Been feeding baby goats that a mama rejected, and having Jonathan and Martha Kent thoughts.
Jon and Martha find the Kryptonian ship in their corn field, but when they open it the baby is not well. He’s traveled light years, and even at the fastest speeds, it was days or even weeks. What fluid was sustaining him has been gone for some time.
They work a farm. They know what a sick baby looks like.
They take the baby inside anyway. It’s far too late for anything to be open, so they break out the milk replacer for the livestock. The bottle they find has had a goat kid sucking on it, but they wash it good, because what other choice do they have?
The baby doesn’t take to the bottle well. He barely eats.
They both know a lack of appetite is a death knell.
“I can’t watch a baby die,” Martha says. She’s done it before. She and Jon struggled to have kids. The closest they got — well. It’s a hard memory for them both.
“I know, love.” Jon’s a good old country boy. He grew up being told it’s a man’s job to take the burden. He’ll take it now. “Go to bed. I’ll stay with him.”
Sure, they both know Martha won’t sleep, but at least she won’t have to see.
Jon takes the wee babe out onto the porch. He tries to poke more milk down him. Rubs his chest, bounces him, pushes the bottle past his lips, every damn thing he can do. The hours are long and hard, but he would never forgive himself if he didn’t try.
The baby continues to fade.
The eastern sky starts to lighten.
“I’m sorry, little fellow,” Jonathan whispers. It’s not long now. He can feel it in his bones. He’s held plenty of animals as they died. He’s waiting for that long last exhale. “Sorry you came all this way and this is your welcome. Can’t even enjoy the sunrise.”
He told himself he wouldn’t cry until the boy was gone. Wasn’t fair, that his last moments would be a man crying instead of comforting him, but Jon does his best to do both at the same time. He cradles the poor little thing even as his shoulders shake.
The sun breaks over the horizon, and light floods the porch. Jon closes his eyes against it and his tears.
It’s a hiccup that is the first sign something changed. Then the wiggling.
Jon nearly drops the baby in shock.
When he looks down, the little boy sure hasn’t died. He’s got this rosy little glow to his cheeks and his eyes are bright. He’s throwing those little hands around like he’s trying to figure out how they work, but he seems to be trying to reach for the sun.
Jon just stares at him until the baby gets frustrated enough with his clumsy limbs that he opens his mouth to tell the world about it.
The baby’s cry is so powerful Jon falls right out of his rocker. It’s a miracle he doesn’t launch the poor thing.
Only thing he can think to do with a screaming baby that’s about to take his eardrums out is shove that bottle right in that open mouth.
The little boy shuts right up and clings to the bottle for dear life as he drinks with a fury.
When Martha comes stumbling out wild-eyed in her jammies, Jon’s sitting on the porch with a grin as bright as the dawn despite the fact his ears are still ringing.
Clark anger flashed through him and almost drawing a growl from his throat. Ma raised a polite alpha, though, so he shoved it down and forced himself to keep his cool.
He could feel the weight of Dick’s gaze on him, those blue eyes as unreadable as ever. He could never tell what the boy was thinking and that scared him more than he had ever thought it would. In the three months that he had been dating Bruce, he had quickly learned that the socialite’s omega children were just as cryptic as him. They played dumb for a camera, giggling in composed, barbiesce laughter and behind shimmering jewels, but they were not. Their minds calculated as quickly as Bruce’s. Their tongues had the same knife’s edge. They were always standing, so elegant and pretty as men toppled around them.
He knew that, and yet he hadn’t hesitated to come into the Rose Garden when Bruce’s eldest asked for a little chat.
“I’ve told you,” Clark repeated, breathing deeply against the part of him that wanted to get angry. “I’m not writing a piece. I’m not trying to get a headline. I’m not one of those other reporters.”
Dick hummed, weight rocking back onto his heels. The diamonds in his ears and on the curves of his wrists glimmered in the moonlight.
“Funny,” he purred. “That’s what she had said too. Of course, all worked out for me in the end.”
Clark could take a good guess at the ‘she’. Dick, Bruce’s oldest, was famous for his sex tape that had gone viral even though he had only been 17 at the time. There hadn’t been much care given to his age, because he had only been three months away from 18, and all the focus had instead went to his ass and ‘flexibility’. In the public eyes, Dick had seemed to lean into it, going on talk shows and gossiping on late night and releasing photo after photo of himself in lavish outfits. Before meeting Bruce, Clark had believed it too. He thought that the whole incident rolled off the boy like water off a duck’s back.
But it hadn’t.
Bruce had warned Clark not to bring it up. The one time that he even dared to try to ask Bruce about it in private, the omega had nearly bitten his head off. ‘Do you really think a child was okay with that?’ Bruce had warned. ‘Do you really believe everything that’s told to you?’
No, Clark thought to himself as he looked at the omega. Everything about the omega’s body was composed into a relaxed stance that was anything but relaxed.
“I am sorry that happened, but I am not her. I don’t want to hurt you.”
The omega’s eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly.
“If you don’t want to hurt me, then what do you want to do with me?”
“I’d like to get to know you,” Clark offered tentatively, trying for a peace offering.
That was apparently the wrong thing to say because Dick’s defenses instantly went up, hardening into steel. His perfect facade cracked and cold fury shown through the cracks.
“Is that what this goody two shoes act is for?” Dick hissed, prowling closer. “Get close just to undercut us when we let our guard down?”
The omega was shoving himself into Clark’s space and Clark’s hands snapped up, going to the boy’s shoulders. The omega looked like he wanted to tear Clark’s throat out with his teeth.
“No! It’s nothing like that. I promise, I just love your—“
The omega leaned in closer, body language changing on a dime. Dick’s fury melted into desire. The pushing closer took on an entirely different tone. The boy leaned his head back, exposing the gland there in a way that could only be described as salacious.
The omega was the picture of lust. A lover caught up with another in the rose garden.
Before Clark could shove him away, there was a camera flash.
A sharp click that echoed loudly between Clark’s ears.
He didn’t need to shove Dick away, because just as fast as the omega put on the act, he snapped out of it.
He peeled his body off Clark’s and shook himself like he had touched something disgusting.
“Did you get it?” He asked, turning towards the direction of the camera.
“Yeah.” That was Tim’s voice, echoing as loudly as the camera click.
A cold washed over Clark as he realised just how much he had been played.
Tim emerged from the foliage, offering the camera screen to Dick for the other omega to view it over his shoulder.
“I, I didn’t… no,” Clark sputtered still trying to fully grasp what had just happened.
“Get over yourself,” said Dick blithely, still looking down at the camera. “We just needed the insurance. I’m outta way out of your league.”
Something sour burn in the back of his throat at the thought that this child had even considered it.
“I wasn’t thinking that. I didn’t want anything like that.”
“That’s just the problem, Mr. Kent,” Tim said, snapping his viewer on his camera shut. “We don’t know what you want.”
“Please,” he said, eyes going to the camera. “Please delete that photo. You know it wasn’t anything like that.”
“It wouldn’t matter,” Tim said, eyes just as hard as Dick’s. Muscles just as tense and wary. They both looked like predators but they also stood like they were looking at a predator themselves. “The photo is automatically backed up and would only be one piece of evidence in our exposure of you.”
Dick was looking down at his nails, pretending to play this off nonchalantly. “You think the photo would be the only thing we’d rely on? We could take a hundred phrases out of context. Hell, I could even fake a pregnancy. We’ve been in this rose garden by ourselves for a while.”
“But why?”
“We don’t know what you want,” Tim repeated. “We are the most powerful group of omegas in the country. Everyone comes to us wanting something, which means we have to have our insurances.”
“Bruce wouldn’t want this.”
Dick’s eyes met Tim’s and the boys smiled to each other. Clark couldn’t imagine how either of them could have even been perceived as idiots.
“Bruce will be expecting you for a nightcap,” said Dick, turning his back fully on Clark and padding out of the garden.
Clark begs asks Zatanna for a glamour spell. At first, she assumes it's for disguise purposes, so it surprises her when he specifically requests to look older.
"Humans age," was Clark's only explanation.
Zatanna gives him a watch. It looks simple, lovingly used, something that could be a century old. Once he puts it on, its features shift just a little; the band changes to a worn, dark leather; the clock face becomes a little more modern, the numbers morph from Roman numerals to Arabic as the face turns from withered brown to aged white. Clark swears quietly to himself that he'd seen Pa wear a watch like this.
"Just turn it forward to look older, and backwards to look younger," Zatanna explains. "Five minutes is one year, and that's human years, so be careful. And press the knob down three times to reset."
"Thank you," Clark says, before bidding her farewell.
He goes back to his apartment first. It doesn't see much use anymore, but he'd insisted on keeping something tying him to Metropolis. Flicking the bathroom light on, Clark peers at himself in the mirror for a moment.
Familiar discomfort pinches in his gut. The man staring back could still be shaking off the softness of youth, looking at home on a college campus. He allows the feeling to settle, then reaches for the watch.
If five minutes was a year, then Clark would need to turn it at least two and a half hours forward. Once done, he takes a breath, and looks back at the mirror.
And sees himself.
Clark Kent, with fifty three years of life brimming in his new wrinkles, his receding hairline, his stripes of gray running from his temples. His face had sunken, somewhat, the skin looser to show the true sharpness of his cheeks.
He adores the permanent laugh lines. He'd never managed a single wrinkle before, proof of his life of joys and fears and experiences. He loves the faint spots dotting his face, hands, arms. He loves the loose skin on his neck, just above his Adam's apple and under his jaw. He has a double chin, now.
A strong rightness settles inside him as he pokes at new pockets of flab across his body.
He can't wait to show Bruce.
In fact, he doesn't wait.
Bruce doesn't turn his way just yet when Clark touches down in the Cave, too focused on the report he types out at speed. Clark waits, crossing his legs midair and floats quietly.
When Bruce finally finishes and saves the file, he turns to ask Clark what he needs. His words halt in his throat, taking in the man who is definitely Clark Kent, but different from the one he saw this morning. Not just physically, either, having visibly aged despite his biology decreeing otherwise. He's... happier?
Clark beams. "We match," he says, pointing to the grey at his temples.
With striking clarity, Bruce suddenly understands why Clark finds an old man like himself attractive. You're not old, he'd say, you're mature.
As gorgeous as Clark always is... this is different. He's beautiful. Most of it, Bruce realizes, comes from the joy and ease with which he holds himself. Had Clark been unhappy with his appearance before? Had Bruce not noticed?
Bruce lets his eyes drag up and down Clark's form, puts just a hint of Brucie in his smirk. "Well well," he says. "Come here often?"
The laugh lines deepen exquisitely as Clark bellows out his cheer.
"Hey... dad," Dick couldn't help the slight shaking in his voice as he spoke into the comm. He had to speak up over the steady pounding on the door and the shake of the metal around them.
There was a deep sigh from Bruce's end of the line. "You only call me dad in that tone when you've done something monumentally stupid."
"Well... its--" Dick's voice was tight and he squeaked as the bandage around his leg was pulled tight. "Ow! That hurts!" he whined to the other occupant of the bunker.
She gave him a flat look, thoroughly unimpressed with his dramatics.
"Will you stop," she said testily. "I've seen you perform summersaults with five bullets inside you. This one little scrape should be nothing for you."
"Hello Miss Lane," Bruce said smoothly. "I see that you've been roped into whatever nonsense Dick has gotten himself into this time."
"Hello Bruce," she said sweetly back. "You should tell your son to stop squirming through medical treatment. He’s making bandaging his gunshot wound hell."
"A problem he's had since childhood I'm afraid," Bruce quipped back.
"Stop talking about me like I'm not here."
Dick was thoroughly ignored by the two more adulty adults.
"Please inform me why my son is shot? I'm assuming that it is minor given all his whining. He's typically the most dramatic when the injuries are the smallest."
Now it was Lois's turn to look a little abashed. "Well, Bruce, I'm really sorry but I may have accidentally shot him."
Bruce was very quiet on the other end of the line and Lois quickly filled the silence.
"Your idiot son--"
"Hey!"
"had the bright idea to drag me to safety in a manner that looked very much like he was trying to kidnap me for human trafficking."
"It wasn't like that."
"During an active battle against both meteors and Luthor's latest rounds of vicious robots, Dick, in all his intelligence and plainclothes, grabbed me from behind and pulled me into one of the building basements."
"I was trying to help. There were rocks falling from the sky."
"There were rocks falling from the sky, but you didn't need to grab me from behind while wearing the most suspicious hoodie in existence."
"It's meant to be a joke."
"It says 'I'm a good guy I swear' on it. So, Bruce, given that I thought I was being kidnapped while my boyfriend was distracted by both meteors and robots. I used the tiny, palm-sized, pistol in my purse and delivered a nonlethal shot as self-defense."
"There's a bullet in my leg," Dick grumbled. "It is nonlethal though. Extremely shallow. Mainly just annoying."
"The biggest issue is that Clark saw me being kidnapped and it now trying to break into the basement that we're stuck in."
Bruce hummed on the other end of the line. "Is that the constant pounding I hear?"
"Yes," Dick answered, looking towards the groaning door. "It's a bomb shelter thing. Lead-lined so he doesn't know it's me. Clark's also very concussed."
"He took three meteors to the head," added Lois helpfully.
"He's doing the Superman equivilent of stumbling and slurring his words so he's not exactly at his A-game. But I please need you to come over here and do your horse-whispering thing on Clark so he doesn't punch me into oblivion."
"Your son's an idiot," Lois said, "But it would be sad to see him go like this."
Bruce did a heavy, heavy sigh. "Alright, give me ten minutes."
Clark’s mind went back to the little ‘Baby-animal-a-day’ calendar on his desk. A white seal had told him that it was October 14th. He knew that it was a day that was in the middle of Bruce’s League vacation, but also that they could contact him through phone or text. He had explicitly said that he should be contacted in case of an emergency.
Getting quotes for one of Lois's pieces wasn’t exactly an emergency, but Clark did have the woman bothering him about it almost every day and it was one of the perks of being best friends with a billionaire.
*Yes*. He texted back. *Are you busy?*
There seemed to be a long pause before he got an answer back from Bruce.
*No. I’m in my bedroom. Come over.*
Clark didn’t hesitate and, after a few moments of making sure he was in his Superman suit so that people didn’t see a mild mannered reporter flying over the Gotham-Metropolis Causeway, he was at Bruce’s bedroom door.
Instantly, he knew why Bruce had asked him about the date.
There was… a smell.
A scent.
Deeply floral and honeyed and so thick that it filled Clark’s brain, triggering something that had never been triggered before. As a Kryptonian, he didn’t have a designation like all of Earth’s humans. He could smell their scents and guess at designations of others, but he truly didn’t understand the emotions beneath them. He had never felt the press of a pack bond, despite how much Ma and Pa tried, or any of the closeness that came from being able to tell people’s emotions by scent.
He had thought that he was completely immune to have scents affect him and yet, here he was feeling something in the wash of Bruce’s heat scent.
*Say your name when you come in,* texted Bruce again. *Maybe that will keep them from biting you.*
He… didn’t really know what that meant, but as he slowly cracked the door open, the snarling was instant.
The kids, he realised after a beat of staring into the dim room and taking in the lump of bodies at the center of an omega nest. Six pairs of eyes were shooting narrow glares at him and filling the room with the sting of something that smelled like battery acid.
Also, underneath the sound, there was a deep, warm hum.
“It’s just me,” Clark said, stepping fully into the room. “I come in peace?”
Growling from two of the kids stopped, though one kept up. He heard one voice snicker about an alien invasion.
“You can come closer,” this was Bruce’s voice speaking from somewhere under the shifting bodies of his pups. It hardly looked like a comfortable position, but Bruce didn’t seem to be struggling. “Tim won’t bite you.”
Clark doubted that, especially as Tim’s snarling seemed to get louder as Clark approached. He knew that all of Bruce’s kids were alphas, except for Damian was too young to be anything more than puppy. Clark hadn’t ever really thought of what all that meant until he watched Bruce try to extract himself from his nest.
“Where are you going?” demanded Tim, still looking at Clark suspiciously.
“Clark wants to manipulate our friendship for journalistic purposes again,” Bruce said, finally standing and stretching his body out with a yawn. “Stay here. I’ll be back.”
“No,” said Tim, more aggressive than Clark had ever heard him be before. “It’s heat season.”
“Clark’s also an alien,” said Dick. The oldest alpha was already relaxing back into the nest, curling towards Jason and closing his eyes. “Designations and scents don’t work on him, ‘member?”
Normally, he would have agreed, but that felt like a huge, huge lie as something about Bruce’s honeyed heat scent seemed to tickle his brain and scratch at something he didn’t think was even there.
Which of course made him feel terrible for lying. Even though, he technically wasn’t. Maybe more like, taking advantage of their pre-conceived notions?
Tim retreated back, allowing Bruce to walk Clark outside and away from the nest. When they were out of the room, away from all the scent-soaked furniture and the stew of smells, Clark’s head felt a bit clearer. Less like he was getting high from a smell alone. Although there was still some weird humming that Clark didn’t know whether his mind was making up just out of pure reaction to whatever Bruce’s scent was doing to him.
(Part of him wondered, what it would feel like to press his nose into the crook of Bruce’s neck. To press his teeth to the warm skin there and bite down hard enough to leave a mark.)
“Sorry about them,” said Bruce with a small, close-lipped smile. “They always get more protective during a heat week.”
The Wayne kids were pretty famous for it actually, ever since a nine-year-old Dick had bitten a socialite’s hand that had wandered too close to Bruce’s waist and the rest of the kids kept a tradition of snapping at anyone that showed too much interest in their omega father.
“It’s fine,” Clark said through his internal panic at trying to figure out what the hell he was feeling, why there was still some kind of weird buzz, and, oh god, was he being manipulative right now? “I’m sorry. I forgot it was a heat week.”
“No, it’s okay,” replied Bruce quickly. “It’s kind of nice actually. Everyone treats me so weirdly during these days. It’s nice to be a normal person for a few minutes and not have someone freaking out over my scent.”
Clark felt like the biggest asshole in the world as he stood there, trying not to treat Bruce weirdly and freak out over his scent.
“Did you bring the quotes?”
Clark had nearly forgotten in his quest to try not to treat Bruce weirdly and freak out over his scent. He scrambled a little before he passed over his phone with the document pulled up. Bruce began reading over them and Clark stared at the small gland on his neck that almost seemed to tease him with how out in the open it was.
Also that weird humming was still there.
Finally, he had to ask. “I, umm, do you hear that noise?”
It was frankly a ridiculous question to be asked by someone with superhearing, but Clark was not exactly thinking the clearest at the moment.
Bruce lifted his head to listen, head tilted a bit before he chuckled. “Oh that’s me. I basically purr through my entire heat week. My kids make fun of me and say that I’m louder than the Batmobile motor. I forgot that you probably hadn’t heard it before.”
Clark knew that he was destined for hell because of all the things that sound had made him want to do to the omega in that moment.
whys everyone wanna get fucked by a monster. i wanna fuck a monster. i'm the hunter, you're the prey. werewolf boyfriend whimpering under a silver gag, bound by wolfsbane soaked chains while i fuck him silly by the glow of the moon. vampire pinned by a crucifix and a parted curtain, the light kissing my back and only my body arching over theirs protecting them from the petrifying sun. eldritch tentacles trussed together with rope and sailcloth, unable to do anything but pulsate weakly as i use them to my own desires. collaring a minotaur, pinning him in the cattle crush and ruthlessly jacking him off while hes gripped by the machine made for livestock. enough helpless humans. the hunter has desires too.
Man to be a scientist tasked with researching and cataloging the details of dangerous creatures. I want to explore every inch of their bodies with cold detachment but after awhile there will be favoritism. One that has pretty scales, bright feathers or soft hole thats particularly receptive during testing. Studying every aspect of their breeding habits, having said beasts grow attached practically seeing me as a mate. Growing jealous when it’s it not their turn for their cum to be collected. Throwing a fit when they smell the other creatures on my lab coat and furiously trying to cover the scent up with their own. Watching them preen and display in hopes of catching my favor, to stay a little longer before going to the next specimen. It’ll be tough not to get involved with the data collection during their ruts and heats, but perhaps if they are well behaved I’ll pet their heads while they nuzzle my crotch pretending it’s me fucking them and not the machine.
Just let me be a funky scientist with their hoard of horny beasts who want lil ol me to fill them up regardless of how compatible we are.
Went way over my ~self-imposed~ word limit on this one cause I thought it was cute and didn't want to cut it down. So, you know, happy holidays to those Alex lovers lol.
Read more Drabbles here!
❄️
10. Snowflake (Alex x GN!Farmer)
The tendrils of steam that rose from the heated pool to caress your face lulled you into a delicious drowsiness. But the slamming of the heavy metal door towards the front of the spa told you it was time to go. You pulled yourself free of the water and made your way to the locker room, drying off and redressing quickly. Not wanting to overheat in the muggy air, you dragged your heavy overcoat and knitted cap with you to the front room, beginning to pull them on as you approached the main door, sighing heavily at the sound of the whipping winter wind howling outside.
Fully swathed in your winter clothes again, you pushed against the door and promptly stumbled forward as it swung open more easily than you had anticipated. A very flustered looking Alex, however, was quick to catch you before your face could hit the icy ground. You glanced up at him with an embarrassed grimace as you straightened yourself, his arms lingering at your sides. His signature smirk played over his lips as a heated flush crept up your chest beneath your layers, but there was something more genuine there too. The two of you lingered over the threshold, the door to the spa still hanging open behind Alex. Your breath caught as his hand traveled up towards your face; time seemed to slow as his fingers gently grasped the lock of hair beside your face.
"Snowflake," he said quietly, his voice almost eclipsed by the wind. He dropped his hand and you saw the melted droplets on his fingers, evidence of the flurries in your hair.
Before you could respond, he had released you, stepping away from you and into the warmth of the spa. You stood there, stunned into silence at how close he had been to you, how quickly he had moved away.
"I think that's what I'll call you from now on," he commented, before tossing you a purposeful wink and making his way towards the men's locker room, leaving you standing in the open doorway, slightly mesmerized and wondering what you were supposed to do with that information.
yes. was this due february. yuh. but that isn’t important rn yoyoyoyoyo. dis is a developing relationship yes yes !!! i think we fear becoming our parents, especially those who have experienced abuse. dis is short >:(( idk what this is bro
chosen prompt ;; “can you stay the night?” + Alex
warnings ;; potentially mild language, implications to past abuse etc, fear of continuing the cycle of abusive parenting and a bit angsty etc
by qtipcottonbuds 2022. do not repost.
𝗔𝗟𝗘𝗫 𝗫 𝗚𝗡!𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗥
(‘Can you, uh, stay the night? Not like that of course- I just-’)
He’s sleeping on the couch, one hand pressed underneath his cheek, easing the weight against the hard material, the other, settling across his stomach.
Well, the keyword being ‘sleeping.’ It’s one of those nights; he’s all too aware of the tiredness in his body, urging him to sleep, yet, he can’t. Too many thoughts. His brain won’t shut up (it won’t ever fucking shut up).
Alex doesn’t regret asking you to stay over; he was mentally patting himself on the back in a moment of impulsiveness when you’d walked with him back to his front door. But, a part of him regrets that he wishes he could’ve taken the opportunity to open up about it. For once.
Not yet, though. He doesn’t think he has the guts yet. But, he will.
In his tiny bedroom, it’s dark, although he can see you clearly from this angle, opposite to where you’re spread out, in a starfish position, on his bed.
Alex isn’t staring.
He’s not.
(That’s just weird).
It’s watching. There’s a difference.
There’s a slight bit of saliva coating a small part of his pillow, in a odd shaped circle, but he doesn’t mind (not when it comes to you), and you’re shifting again once more, this time, your head tilts over in his direction, eyes closed, lips parted, “You ‘kay?”
“It’s nothin’,” he says in return.
“Just watching me sleep?” That’s what you settle for, with a wry smile.
“Yeah,” maybe the confidence rouses from how late in the evening it is, Haley had mentioned once about emotional levels running high at night (or maybe that was from a lack of sleep, he wasn’t listening properly), “just watchin’ you sleep.”
He feels your gaze on him, observing him, quiet. He doesn’t like it (being seen).
You shift, onto your side, to face him; a palm spread open, swiping across the empty bed space beside you, patting down, “I can’t see you that well… Come here?”
And for once, he doesn’t refuse. He welcomes the comfort.
Wordlessly slipping in beside you, he realises how cramped it is. Legs pressed up against one another, you turn to him, still hazy with sleep.
“M’scared of the dark too.”
You say it like you’re almost ashamed. A confession in the dark.
“But, I feel a bit better being in the dark. Together, I mean, then on my own.”
He swallows, unable to say anything, and opts to nod slowly - you’re not as coherent as you were, but you’re finally drifting off - and he’s grateful.
“Next time, we’ll keep the light on, ‘kay?” it’s barely recognisable, the phrasing, but he just manages to get a grasp on what you were attempting to say, your face now pressed into his pillows, neck bent at an awkward angle.
He reaches forward, but pauses, hand wavering mid-air.
Would you mind him touching you? (Like this?). So intimately, almost. It’s you and him, only the pair of you both - and he can’t bring himself to interrupt it, to burst the bubble. The moment is so close, yet still not within his grasp fully - but he opts to reach forward once again, hand sliding behind the nape of your neck, and shifting it into a more suitable position.
You’re dead to the world, all but to the comfort of his own home; leaning into his touch but Alex decides to respond with a silent ‘okay,’ his hand seeking, reaching out for yours underneath the thin covers.
He believes that maybe, just maybe, for once, he can be gentle too. Maybe he can be vulnerable.
☆ tags: alex x gn!reader, he finds something that he never expected to see on your farm, this was going to be angst with an angst ending, but then my sister begged me to not write a sad ending, so have this relieving happy ending instead, LOTS of alex spoilers! ☆
Alex stretches his arms over his head and breathes in deep. In the distance, he hears chickens screaming—a sure sign that he's getting closer to your farm. The walk from his house isn't short, but while his grandparents would complain about the distance, he finds it ideal for cooling down after his harder work-outs. And he gets to see you at the end? He'd say that's a winner winner chicken dinner situation...out of earshot from your coop, at least.
"Hey there! Evelyn's boy!" Pam calls from his right.
He slows to a stop and waves. She sits in the driver seat of her newly repaired bus, window fully open, and takes another swig from her Joja Cola. Immediately, her face scrunches.
"Mornin', Pam!" he yells back. "How's that alcohol detox going for you?"
"Awful." She smacks her lips and holds the can up to her eyes, searching the ingredients for what makes it so fucking nasty. You often joke that it's the bitter taste of capitalism. "I could go for something stronger in this heat. You think the farmer has an extra glass of pale ale?"
Alex's smile tightens. Ever since Pam and Penny's trailer turned into an actual house, Pam's been doing her best to break old habits and he's glad for it—he can finally walk by her without the reflexive gag and hurried steps. You telling me I stink? she used to ask, angry in her drunken stupor, until she remembered why he showed up on his grandparents' steps nearly two decades ago.
She must read it in his expression now because she waves him off with a roll of her eyes. "I'm kidding, kid. Tell 'em I said hi. They're the only one who takes this damn bus anyway. I might as well take a nap." She slides sunglasses onto her face and reclines her chair until he can't see her anymore. "If I'm still here by the time you go home, wake me up."
Classic Pam, he thinks as he continues to your farm. Your dog is already running from the front door to greet him, panting and barking and disturbing your horse's peace.
"Come on, buddy," he laughs, shooing your dog until he can push open the gate. "I was supposed to surprise them."
Alex scratches your horse's ear as he passes its stable. Grape vines twist and sag on the trellises you've set up for the season, the structures nearly bursting with fruit, and he makes a mental note to stop by tomorrow to help with the harvesting. Maybe it could substitute for a work-out. He's helped you ship boxes of produce before and wondered how ripped he'd be after a month of your lifestyle. Between the trellises, the melons are just starting to come in. He doesn't know how long it takes for them to ripen, only that they taste really good when you drop off a basket for his grandma.
He calls out your name. Not in the fields, not in the pasture. Your new greenhouse, maybe? You were muttering something about ancient fruit last night. Or the mushroom cave, something he still can't believe is a feature on your farm. If Demetrius could add that, maybe Alex could talk you into installing an outdoor lifting station.
He walks past your workbench and active machines...
...and walks backwards again, hoping that his eyes are deceiving him. Crystalariums reproducing diamonds to sell, charcoal kilns working double time for enough coal, bone mills churning out fertilizer, geode crushers crunching rocks into pebbles, furnaces roaring as they smelt ores into bars—and right on top of the furthest furnace sits a wrapped bundle he's only seen in his (second to) worst nightmares.
He hears your content humming now, somewhere in the main farmhouse. Under normal circumstances, he would've called it cute, but the sound rings mockingly in his ears as he approaches the darkened flowers. A wilted bouquet. Fuck.
.
.
"Oh, hey there!" Alex called out as you got closer. He tossed his ever-present gridball into the air. "You here to catch fish again? I think you can find salmon in the river this time of year. At least that's what I heard."
Once you came to a stop in front of him, you shook your head, hands still behind your back. "I'm not fishing today," you said. "I actually wanted to give you something."
"Yeah?" His lips quirked into a grin. Another toss into the air. "Wouldn't happen to be a Salmon Dinner with extra lemon, would it? Those are one of my favorites, but I can never catch any salmon myself. Another egg would be cool, too. I've been adding your weekly deliveries to my workout meals."
You only shifted from one foot to the other, unable to take your eyes off his shoes, and a part of him faltered. You weren't intimidated by him, were you? Ever since you found him crying on the beach, he had been a little more flirtatious than usual, layering on the teasing and showing off. Maybe he came on too strong. Haley always told him that subtlety wasn't his strong suit. The grip on his gridball changed as he tossed it higher.
"You okay there? Did I do something...wait, this is—ow!"
The ball bounced off his head and landed in the grass, but he couldn't care less. He pointed to the bouquet in your hands. Not a regular bouquet, but the Bouquet made to order by Pierre. In a place as small as Pelican Town, there was no need for Pierre to have it in constant stock, so when the signature blooms made the rare appearance, they attracted everyone's eyes.
"...you want to get more serious?" he asked, incredulous.
Something in your expression changed, and you drew the flowers back to your chest. "Oh, sorry, did you not?" You gave him a wide smile, already stepping away. "I must've read the signs wrong. My mistake."
"No! That's not—I mean, you read the signs correctly. I, uh, I feel the same way." He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling his face flush. "So I guess we're together now? Should I be asking you out on a date or something? Or wait, are you asking me out on a date? How does this work?"
You laughed, a genuine sound this time. "We can continue the way we were before."
And so you did, but some things changed for sure. He could hold your hand now as you ran errands around the town, carrying half of the gifts you handed out to the townspeople. He could kiss you goodbye at his door in the evenings, though George cleared his throat loudly every time. Alex remembered making some snide comment about his grandpa, who yelled out a gruff I heard that! before being shushed by Evelyn. When It Howls in the Rain was being shown at the town theater, you bribed him to a screening with the promise of Stardrop Sorbet, but as much as he loved the treat, he would've gone anyway—it was one of his favorite movies with one of his favorite people. Good thing he'd seen it before because he spent most of the time staring at your side profile, wondering when he could finally go pro and have you stare at him on a screen.
.
.
Your dog nips at his fingers. He pets it absently. He thought everything was going fine between the two of you. Just yesterday, you came over and had dinner with him and his grandparents. You told them about your mining adventures in the Skull Caverns and, to his horror, showed off your old stitches from Harvey. (George chided your reckless behavior and gave old-timey advice that you nodded along to.) You talked about the new farm you're setting up at Ginger Island—Ancient Fruit wine all year! you told them excitedly. It's a farmer's heaven!—and the Beach Resort you're trying to restore. (Evelyn hummed at your energy, asking rapid-fire questions about the flora there.) You even promised to bring over a season's worth of eggs and leeks as soon as you got your hands on them. (Alex's mind flashed to the old mariner and the mermaid's pendant he could see hanging around your neck in the future.)
So why is a wilted bouquet sitting here, right on top of your furnaces?
No point in guessing when he can just find out the answer right from the source. He takes the flowers and goes to your door, knocking twice. It opens before he has time to second guess his choice.
"Alex! I didn't know you were coming over," you say, beaming at him. He wants to immortalize this version of you: face full of dirt smudges and t-shirt collar soaked through with sweat, yet glowing in your element. Until your eyes drop to his hands. "Oh, that's..."
He sets his jaw. "Can I come in and talk?"
Your expression falters further at his cold tone, but you step back and lead him to the living room. Your dog trots in and settles by the TV, head on its paws, watching with blank eyes. Alex sits in his usual spot and you yours, and suddenly he hates how familiar he is with your space.
It's still silent.
You clear your throat. "So," you start, wiping your palms on your jeans. A nervous tick he knows well. "What did you want to talk about?"
He puts the bouquet on the coffee table between you.
"Right." You pause, likely waiting for him to continue, but he doesn't say anything. "Alex, can you at least be less mean about this? I feel like you owe me that much after all this time together." He says nothing. "Like, tell me what's wrong instead of sitting here stone-faced. Things were okay. Why are you breaking up with me—"
"Why am I breaking up with you?" He barks a laugh. "Baby, I found this outside on your furnace! I'm not going to beg for you to stay, but what the hell is this?"
Your forehead furrows. "What? I wouldn't."
"If it's not yours and it's not mine, then whose is it?"
"I don't know! Alex, I wouldn't—I never even thought about breaking up," you insist. "Why would I lie about that?"
After scrutinizing your stricken expression, his relief comes in waves. He sinks into your couch, hands rubbing at his face.
"Are you okay?"
"I'm fine, just—" He laughs again, the sound mostly air. "Yoba, that scared me. If someone left this here as a prank, I'm hunting them down tonight." He lifts his head to look at you and opens his arms. "Can you come over here?"
You wrinkle your nose. "I'm gross."
"You could be playing in mud with your pigs, and I'd still jump in."
With a roll of your eyes, you hop over to curl into his side and he buries his face in the crook of your neck. You stink, but so does he after a good workout. Now that he thinks about it, he's still in his gym clothes.
"You scared me, too," you tell him, gaze trained on the table. "Not the best thing to see on a Friday afternoon. But now I want to know whose this is. Did you check it for clues?"
"Didn't bother. Thought it was yours." His arm around your waist tightens as you lean forward. "Does it matter?"
But that doesn't stop you. You have the bouquet in your lap now, prying at the blackened ribbon and wrapping. "Look at this," you say, holding it between two fingers. "The ribbon isn't blue, and Pierre always uses blue. The wrap is pretty much disintegrated, but this corner—he always puts his store brand." You suck in a breath. "Oh, duh! Where did you say you found this?"
"The furnaces right outside by the workbench."
"Okay, so mystery solved. This is mine, but not in the way you think."
He raises an eyebrow. "Explain. Don't say you're breaking up with a secret partner because I don't think I can handle a second shock right now."
"I made a wildflower bouquet to put on Grandpa's grave a few days ago, but I totally forgot where I put it, so I made a second one. This one must've been the one I misplaced."
He blinks. "How the hell did you not notice it since?"
"I came back from Ginger Island yesterday and went to sleep right after dinner! The flowers must've wilted from the furnace heat."
"You," he says slowly, pinching your cheek and ignoring your squeak, "are the absolute worst. I can't believe you nearly broke my heart and it turned out to be a whoopsie."
So... don't know if you have this in the works after your last post, but what would it be like with the bachelors going down on reader for the first time? If you're comfortable with it, that is. 👀
!! the bachelors going down on you for the first time
contains ; soooo much smut. i got so carried away mb y’all LOL. nsfw (minors pls dni.) fem!farmer. oral (f!receiving). praise. established & unestablished relationships. fwb!shane. sexual guiding. inexperienced!sebastian. implied height difference in alex’s.
harvey.
- haha.
- i love this man.
- he is so (i cannot stress this enough) so affectionate.
- absolutely infatuated with you and everything you do.
- as a doctor, he has a lot of people he spends time thinking about: but you are somehow always the main thing on his mind.
- like, tell this man that you did something so minor like stubbed your toe, and he’s carrying you around, forcing you bedridden so he can take care of you.
- well, maybe not to that extent but you get it. you’re the most important thing to him.
- so it’s no surprise that translates to sex as well.
- he only cares about your pleasure, and how you’re feeling.
- before you had sex, he was a nervous mess.
- he wanted it to be perfect :,)
- he didn’t wanna plan it ahead, just kinda hoped it’d all come naturally but surprise he spent the entirety of the day thinking about it.
- it was just supposed to be a fancy dinner date, yet he managed to find you underneath him in his neatly made bed, lips already swollen from his doing.
- “have i told you you’re the most gorgeous woman i’ve ever seen?” it’s corny, cheesy, but oh-so true.
- his fingertips feeling your thighs up your dress, burning into your skin.
- like i said, he’s been thinking about how this night would play out for days. he wants it to be perfect.
- what other way for it to be perfect then him going down on you?
- i’m just saying, harvey on his knees, wide, soft eyes looking up and you while his lips press against your thighs and his cheek rests against your knee.
- his fingers reaching up to slide underneath the waistband of your underwear, doing nothing but tug slightly.
- 😇
- “may i? please?” he nearly whispers.
- and the moment you nod, his lips turn into a soft smile like he’s been waiting forever for that simple gesture.
- he wants you to watch him comfortably, so he props a couple pillows against the headboard so you can look at him.
- loves when you get flustered and tries to hide your face.
- he pays so much attention to your clit. knows how stimulating it is, and especially when he sucks it just right and your hips twitch a little.
- deffffffinitely moans into your pussy 🤷♀️🤷♀️
- & ruts against the bed lollllll
- uses his fingers too. he’s so slow, and careful, all the while his movements still make your head spin.
- “please don’t stop, ‘m so close,” you whine, eyebrows pinching, and you hardly even realize your fingers that ravel and tug on his soft brown hair.
- he’s shaking his head, as in a silent way to tell you “fuck, i’ll never stop,” as long as he can hear you moan like that longer.
- he’s SOOO EAGER.
- wraps one of his hands around yours while the other lightly presses into your stomach to keep you still.
- doesn’t even care that u nearly suffocate him when your thighs wrap around his head—if anything, he’s in heaven.
- can’t take his eyes off of u. he might just die from the sight of you alone.
- he has to catch his breath when you finally collapse, head lulling to the side.
- he’s literally so hard it hurts.
- pressing into your thigh when he comes up to kiss you make out with you.
- “y’taste so good, don’t you think? so sweet, can’t get enough.” “you’ll let me get some more, right? please? want you, need you so bad.”
sam.
- he’s blunt.
- just straight up.
- he’ll nonchalantly tell you if you have something in your teeth, and then pick it out for you.
- he’s the type to give you genuine input if you tried on a new outfit.
- like, “that looks amazing on you. turn around?” or “hm, it’d look better if it didn’t bunch up like that in the front.”
- zero shame. you know he’s not doing it to be rude, that’s just how he is.
- so, if he’s just lounging around at your house while you work, occasionally popping up to help you with easier tasks, expect him to be his same old self.
- and maybe even take you by surprise.
- you walk in during the evening, ready to change from your clothes and bathe after a long day.
- “hi baby,” he’s already smiling, greeting you with a kiss on the cheek and his hands wrapping around your waist.
- he doesn’t know what it is, maybe it’s the way your eyes were slightly lowered from tiredness, or the subtle earthy scent wafting off your body—but it made him much more excited to have you in his arms.
- “you always look so pretty when you finish work.” he sighs, his kisses pressing down the other side of your neck.
- “i do? please,” you snort, shaking your head to dismiss him like you always do.
- but this time, he wanted you to know for a fact just how gorgeous you are.
- “why do you never believe me when i compliment you?” he pouts, leaning to bury his face in your neck.
- it’s the way his soft gaze has your heart thumping a little quicker, and the slight tilt to his head makes your throat threaten to close.
- his lips wrap around yours before you can protest his comment, leaning into you to slightly dip your back over your bed until he’s dropping you both along the mattress carefully.
- “can i show you just how pretty you are? will you let me?”
- he can spend hours kissing you all over. if you have freckles or moles all around your skin, i can assure you he’s kissed every single one.
- i’d like to think that, despite him not being super experienced, he’s still a very loving guy.
- he doesn’t overthink, he’s very carefree, so if he wants to eat you out, he’s going to. obviously with your consent ofc.
- he may not be the best at it, but he does know a lot about you, and since he spends a lot of time with you, it’s easy to see what you like and what you don’t.
- he thinks ur cunt is so pretty. probably embarrasses you on accident by just staring at it LMFAOO
- he’s so gentle when he starts. pressing his hands into your inner thighs to keep them spread, and his tongue is the first to touch you.
- fingers your clit so he can really delve between your folds.
- “taste s’good,” he’ll moan into your cunt.
- btw he’s moaning just as much as you are, he can’t get enough.
- tell him what to do. he likes when you whisper, “just…keep doing that for a second,” or “wait move your hand ba—fuck, right there.”
- it makes him feel so good when he’s doing it right.
- another man who’ll rut against the bed, and may i be so bold as to say he might even cum just from eating you out?
- yes. yes i may.
- he’s so obedient too. i don’t think he has it in him to ever edge you, because he finds that he just can’t stop.
- will overstimulate you more then anything.
- when you cum, he’ll probably be panting just as much as you are. his breath against ur dripping cunt, making to shudder while you catch your own.
- cups your cheek to kiss you again, completely ignoring the fact that your slick is all over his lips.
- he’s in love.
- “thank you for being my girlfriend.” GNNNNN.
shane.
- tbh, y’all probably had sex before u even started dating.
- more then once, at that.
- some of which you were both tipsy after a friday night, coming back to your farm to fuck him in every room of your house.
- you guys were definitely fuckbuddies at first.
- he went down on you a few times during these stages.
- but, as a guy who was a little drunk, horny, and honestly just wanted to get his dick wet—it wasn’t the best he could do. just enough to warm you up.
- he was completely fine with your situation, until he started to realize he was actually falling for you.
- that he wanted to see you outside of just hooking up. he liked when you’d stop by on his way to work, talk to him for a minute. he’d actually look forward to it.
- so when he ended up on your couch again, arms laced and kiss marks already littering your neck, he knew he was going to make this time different.
- your dress rode up just under your bra, his lips sucking your skin down your stomach while you propped yourself against the armrest of the couch.
- he was quick to loop his fingers underneath your panties, tugging them down your legs.
- “someone’s eager,” you tease, having no clue that you’re absolutely right.
- he’s almost desperate. like he has to show you he’s better then what he’s done in the past.
- his arms latch onto your hips, teeth gently biting down on your inner thigh to hear you let out a brief squeal.
- “stay still f’me, okay?” he asks, his breath hitting against your cunt that makes your stomach flutter.
- it’s the way he delves between your thighs that has you stuttering a gasp, instantly ignoring his one request so he has to use minimal strength to force your hips still and thighs apart.
- his lips sucking onto your puffy clit, causing your stomach to clench and immediately squirm under his hold.
- you’re looking down at him like you’re baffled behind pinched eyebrows and jaw wide—which is exactly what he wanted.
- so much so, he can’t even hide his smirk as his tongue slides between your folds to taste you properly.
- “o-oh, fuck me,” you breathe, head hanging back.
- you’re squirming so much, and he’s not having it.
- “can’t you listen to me?” he almost groans, hardly pulling away for his words to become intelligible so the vibration against your clit has you arching your back.
- he’s so messy, uncaring about the slick that’s staining his cheeks and chin.
- loves when you hide your face, mainly because it makes his confidence boost, but he’ll fs call u out.
- “nuh-uh baby, eyes on me.”
- he’ll gently nip at your clit if you look away.
- and he’s teasing you so much, you can feel tears prickle in the corners of your eyes.
- he’ll edge you just so he can start all over, and then overstimulate you so you’ll never forget it.
- will literally leave you breathless, collapsed on your bed after cumming for what felt like hours.
- and he has the AUDACITY to ask, “what? that’s all you got? c’mon, you can give me one more…right?”
sebastian.
- spreading the inexperienced sebastian agenda one post at a time.
- he’s never gone down on anyone before. so genuinely, he has no idea what he’s doing.
- well, okay that’s a lie. he’s not an idiot.
- he knows how stimulating a woman’s clit is, and he knows where it is more importantly.
- but he’s never exactly had one directly in front of his face.
- he’s only ever seen pussy eating in porn, and that’s not the most reliable source. so he’s kind of just depending on you to help him out.
- don’t be shy, either. he wants to learn. he wants to make you feel good.
- his goal: to make you pass out, tbh.
- but baby steps first.
- you’ve already had sex many times before he even proposed the idea of going down on you.
- he’s fingered you before, but even then that’s still new.
- needless to say, you were taken off guard when he asks, “can i go down on you?” after a lazy evening.
- you’re both doing your own thing, with him on his computer and you cleaning some freshly harvested vegetables in the sink.
- “excuse me?” you laugh.
- until you realize he’s not kidding.
- “i wanna learn.” is all he says, before you’re grabbing his hand and guiding him to your bedroom.
- he’s gotten good at knowing how to kiss you, that enough has you warmed up pretty well. you didn’t even have to tell him to kiss his way down your neck, to your stomach before he’s spreading your thighs in front of him.
- he wants to start by fingering you, because he knows how to do that, plus he kinda wants to approach it confidently.
- like i once said. long, thin fingers. he also plays the keyboard…he’s skilled w his hands.
- rests his cheek on your thigh, watching the way his fingers disappear in and out of your wet cunt, and the occasional gasp you let out.
- “what do you want me to do?” almost breathless when he asks.
- when he feels bold enough, he subtly flicks the tip of his tongue against your clit, keeping his fingers moving inside of you while his eyes glance up.
- just the way your stomach clenched from that one simple action has him eager.
- wraps his lips around your clit and sucks.
- “s-shit, yeah, like that,” you weakly praise behind multiple stutters and pants.
- he can’t get enough of how your cunt squeezes around his fingers the more he does something your body appropriately reacts to.
- which he loves. it’s like you’re subconsciously telling him he’s doing so well.
- he never realized how much he loves when you tug on his hair until now, mainly because you unknowingly press him against your cunt so he has nothing better then to just lick.
- he doesn’t take his fingers out of you, but he does move them a little so he can finally get a taste of the entirety of you.
- whines.
- he’s practically drunk.
- wishes he wasn’t so nervous to do this beforehand, because fuck you feel so good on his tongue.
- “the prettiest pussy, tastes so fucking good,” he mumbles.
- you probably didn’t even hear him bc he made no effort to pull away.
- stuffs his fingers inside of you, curls them right when you’re about to cum.
- and when you do, he feels on top of the world.
- he’s never seen your body shake like that.
- and now he doesn’t wanna stop.
alex.
- omfffffg.
- he’s a sweetheart, through and through.
- so doting and adoring the longer you get to know him and be with him.
- it’s rare you’ll wake up to make breakfast, or make dinner without his arms wrapped around your waist and his chin resting on your head.
- and he’s a little clingy, but that’s just because he loves you so much.
- ur first time having sex w him was early in ur relationship. probably the same day you made it official i’m ngl.
- but he likely didn’t go down on you until a few times after.
- not because he didn’t want to, but lowkey giving or receiving head isn’t his favorite part of sex. as a man w a lot of stamina, he’s fucking you to fuck you. not just eat you out.
- which is why you were a little shocked when you felt his kisses move down your torso, his hands gliding against the sides of your waist as he moves down.
- he also wraps his arms around your thighs to hold you still,
- mainly to show off his muscles.
- oh yeah, he’s not wearing a shirt btw. he never does.
- kinda laughs when you express your nervousness about him going down on you.
- “relax, pretty. just trust me. i’ll stop if you want me to.”
- kisses your thighs, and once he finally takes off ur underwear he’s suchhh a tease.
- like, to the point where you’re dripping, impatiently rocking your hips into him.
- “what happened, baby? not scared anymore? what’s the matter, hmm?” “all needy and i haven’t even done anything, hah.”
- i hate him (affectionately.)
- once he finally touches you where you need him, he’s so fucking slow.
- eyes on you the whole time, his little snarky smirk on his face watching you nibble onto the back of your hand to muffle your moans.
- he waits a minute before he fingers you while licking your clit.
- he feels so fucking good when you give up on staying quiet, letting your back arch and nearly scream out a moan.
- he’s so quick with it, his nice, thick fingers knowing just where to curl inside of you.
- “cum for me, c’mon, know you can do it.” he pulls away to speak.
- he needs to watch you entirely when you cum, so he replaces his lips with his thumb while he rubs your clit and fingers you until you’re sobbing.
- “i know baby, i know. just let it out.”
- he doesn’t stop just yet, but he’ll slow down until you nearly force him away from overstimulation.
- makes u lick his fingers loooolllllll.
- and he’ll make out with you so hard while you’re still trying to catch your breath.
- side note, i feel like he enjoys putting you in lots of different positions. if you weren’t flexible before alex, then u sure as hell are now.
- …probably ate u out once with u sitting on his shoulders against the wall. i’m sayin.
elliot.
- alright now.
- do i even have to say it?
- HE’S A MUNCH!!!!!!!!!!!
- if u don’t think he’s eating u out the very first time u have sex then ur just lying to urself. there’s no way he’d miss this step.
- if you don’t want him to, that’s a different story. he wouldn’t even dream of pressuring you.
- but if you do…u better believe.
- he’s so gentle and sweet, first of all.
- holding your cheek, cupping your jaw while your lips move so graciously against one another’s.
- he’s absolutely kissing his way down, but he’s taking his time, letting you squirm underneath him.
- “you’re just so perfect darling, look so beautiful.”
- kisses ur clit <3
- he’s so slow and gentle, licking you softly and listening to your quiet gasps.
- he swoons when he can hear your breath hitch the moment he starts to pick up his movements.
- he’ll position your thighs on his shoulders and laces your fingers together.
- he’s super responsive. loves when you praise him / tell him you like what he’s doing.
- especially when you feel so good you can’t really speak, so you end up roping your fingers through his hair and tugging it into a loose bun.
- that’s enough to drive him crazy.
- “nngh, c-can’t, s’too much,” you whine, back arches and eyes squeezed shut.
- but your words mean nothing in contrast to the way your hands press against the back of his head, keeping his close.
- he doesn’t even need to use his fingers to make you cum. his tongue is so skilled.
- sucking ur clit like a pacifier 🫡
- he’s also very vocal. he usually coaxes you through sex using his words, but since he can’t while he’s eating u out, he’s just left to moaning uncontrollably.
- and he can’t get over the vibrations making your body shudder every time.
- he gets so excited when you’re close to cumming.
- how you just kind of go silent, jaw locked in aisle nt scream with an occasional whimper pushing through.
- and how you immediately exhale the moment you finish, body nearly collapsing.
- he’s not stopping lol.
- wants you literally shaking, your overstimulation short circuiting your brain so you just fall weak.
- “i’m so proud of you, my love. did so good for me, tastes so good. think you can do it again?”
I played SDV blind for a bit before delving into the fandom so I was very surprised to see how the fandom saw the spouse I ended up choosing.
I play as a female character and I didn’t even interpret Alex’s lines as sexist (minus the “I’d ask you to play catch but you’re a girl” line, but I got his 2 heart scene directly after that one so I was like aww he actually does want to play catch with me :D).
Or maybe that’s me tunnel-visioning after he called me “farm girl” and asked if I had a bikini, causing me to hold my head in my hands because that’s when I realized he was the one because I love dumb overconfident guys who are absolutely shit at flirting but become sweet and soft when you reciprocate their feelings 😭
- 🍓 (Can I be the strawberry anon if it’s not taken?)
Sometimes you often forgot just how big Jason was in terms of physicality.
He was like a towering monster whose shadow could encase you but it was warm, protective and secure, leaving you feeling like the most safest person in Gotham.
You often forgot how big his hands were until his callouses were pressed against the back of your hand, hiding yours completely from sight as he closed his hand fully enveloped yours whole, keeping them warm from the cold that he knew you had a love/hate relationship with.
You forgot how effortlessly you could burrow yourself into his broad back, big enough to hide yourself behind whenever you felt fear, or just needed to be close to Jason in order to feel something in general as you nuzzled your face between his shoulder blades and hearing his strong heart beat that grounded you from just about anything.
You could hide away behind him and no one would be none the wiser until Jason stepped to the side, which he never did as he always assumed his position as your wall rather seriously, too stubborn to move for anyone who wasn’t you.
Jason has the physique that is told in Greek mythology, his hands were strong, his thighs were sturdy and powerful as his back and chest were nothing to scoff at either. He was beautiful with all his scars and callouses, for he was the most beautiful man to you who never failed to read chapters from his book to help you sleep, all the while he cradled your form against his larger one.
You often forget about Jason’s physical stature because it didn’t matter to you how big he was, or how strong he was because at the end of the day he was your Jason, he was the man you loved so dearly as you kissed his scars tenderly and caressed his callouses with softness as though you’ll hurt him somehow if you pressed too hard.
He was a giant teddy bear with you and you could only see the sweet, literature dork of a man who holds you close to his chest as though you were his personal teddy bear. His stature and physique didn’t frighten you, it reassured you and comforted you in more ways than one.
You forgot about his physique when his personality shone brighter for you to pay more attention to, his big strong arms that held you from behind, pulling you to his chest were merely a bonus as you snuggled into his neck and pressed kisses to under his jaw and making him hum in content. He was your sweet jay bird who always put you first no matter what, his unwavering loyalty left no room for insecurity or doubt within your relationship as you had found the perfect man in Jason Todd.
A man with flaws and errors of the past etched into his skin, but to you he couldn’t be more perfect as he smiled and laughed with you while keeping you close to him, as though afraid you’ll disappear but you’re more then willing to cling on to him in return…even if your hands don’t meet when returning his embrace in due to how big he was in general.
Yet still he was your precious Jason who was perfectly imperfect in your eyes, his towering and intimidating stature was merely a bonus to the awkward but endearing man that laid beneath.
THE PARTY AT WAYNE MANOR WAS ALREADY WELL UNDERWAY, with the gotham’s most privileged citizens mingling in perfect suits and ethereal gowns that sparkled like they held all the stars in the universe. you didn’t really belong here. or at least, that’s what you told yourself as you stood near the edge of the balcony, nursing a glass of champagne and pretending you weren’t keeping an eye on the man who seemed to command attention wherever he went.
bruce wayne. gotham’s billionaire playboy. philanthropist. occasional heartbreaker. you’d known him for a while, though you wouldn’t exactly call yourself friends. he had a knack for being charming in a way that left people breathless, and you? you’d seen through it. or at least, you thought you had.
when he’d started showing interest in you—lingering glances, invitations to these kinds of events that were hosted by him, casual but warm conversation—you’d dismissed it with a wave of your hand and a gentle no, thank you. bruce wayne didn’t date women like you. he charmed them, maybe took them to dinner once or twice and to warm the cold side of his bed, and then moved on to the next glittering distraction. that’s what you’d always assumed about him, and it didn’t help that you were acquainted with one of his exes, a woman who had once rolled her eyes and described him as a man who “likes the chase more than the catch.”
so when bruce’s eyes found yours from across the room tonight, you bristled. it was hard not to notice the way his gaze softened when he looked at you, the way his smile seemed smaller, less performative and more genuine, when it was directed your way. but you couldn’t help but wonder if it was all part of his game. was this just bruce wayne being bruce wayne, setting his sights on some pretty bird for the thrill of it? or was there more to it?
as the night went on, the man found his moment. you were standing near the balcony doors, half-hidden from the crowd, when his smooth voice broke through your thoughts.
“enjoying the party?”
you turned to find him standing a little closer than you’d expected, his hands casually tucked into the pockets of his perfectly tailored suit, the rich fabric complementing his broad shoulders and easy confidence. he looked effortlessly polished, as always, every detail of his appearance considered, from the subtle sheen of his shoes to the faintest trace of cologne that lingered in the space between you. but tonight, there was something different about him, something in his expression that caught you off guard. his stormy blue eyes, always so guarded, seemed uncharacteristically open, revealing an earnestness that made your breath hitch. and there, just beneath the surface, was a vulnerability he didn’t often let slip, like he was holding his heart out to you, unsure if you’d take it or walk away.
“it’s fine,” you replied, the words carrying a certain amount politeness as you swirled the champagne flute in your hand. the golden bubbles rose to the surface, catching the soft glow of the chandelier overhead. you took a measured sip and the crispness of the drink did little to soothe the edge in your tone. “not really my scene, though.”
he chuckled softly. “i had a feeling you might say that.”
“then why invite me?” The question came out sharper than you intended, but you didn’t back down. you’d spent too much time wondering what exactly a man like bruce wayne wanted from you, and tonight you were in no mood to dance around it.
bruce blinked, clearly caught off guard. “i thought—” he hesitated, the usual composure faltering ever so slightly. “i wanted you here.”
“for what?” you pressed, your voice dipping lower, but it carried the sharpness of a blade meant to cut through his carefully built walls. “to add to the collection? to say you’ve charmed another woman into falling for you?”
the words hung between you, heavy and biting, and you could see the faint flicker of hurt that flashed in his eyes before he masked it. still, you didn’t back down. you’d seen this thing before—the effortless charm, the disarming smiles, the way he made women feel special, if only for a moment. you weren’t going to be another one of those fleeting moments, another name whispered in hushed gossip about gotham’s most privileged golden boy. the weight of your words wasn’t just meant to confront him; it was a shield for yourself, a barrier you put up to keep your heart out of reach of someone who could crush it without even meaning to.
but bruce wayne didn’t flinch. instead, he looked at you with an intensity that made your chest tighten.
“that’s not what this is,” he said quietly with his voice steady but threaded with softness. there was no defensiveness in his tone, no quick quip to deflect or charm his way out of the accusation. he didn’t puff up his chest or offer a rehearsed explanation to save his pride. there was no trace of the man who usually walked through conversations with the ease of someone who always knew the right thing to say.
instead, it was just bruce.
you crossed your arms at your chest, your guard still firmly in place. “forgive me if i find that hard to believe. i know your reputation, and i know you don’t exactly have a track record of . . . consistency.”
the man let out a long sigh, running a hand through his perfectly styled hair and glancing away for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts before he let them out for you to hear. when he looked back at you, his expression was different—softer, more vulnerable than you’d ever seen him.
“i know what people think of me. but that’s not who i am with you. you . . . you’re not just some passing interest to me. i don’t know how else to say it, but i care about you. more than i’ve cared about anyone in a long time.”
his words caught you completely off guard, leaving you momentarily speechless. you searched his face for any sign of deceit, any trace of the playboy side of him you’d come to associate with him. but all you saw was sincerity. it terrified you as much as it made your heart ache.
“you don’t have to believe me,” he added, his voice quieter now. “but i’ll prove it to you, if you let me.”
the vulnerability in his eyes was so raw, so uncharacteristic of the man you thought you knew, that you couldn’t help but feel a crack form in the wall you’d built around yourself. maybe he really meant it. maybe this wasn’t just a game to him. you didn’t know what to say, so you didn’t say anything at all. instead, you let your gaze linger on him for a moment longer, trying to piece together the man in front of you with the one you thought you’d figured out. and for the first time, you wondered if maybe—just maybe—you’d been wrong about bruce wayne.
. . . DICK GRAYSON !
DICK GRAYSON WASN’T USED TO BEING MISJUDGED. sure, people sometimes underestimated him—wrote him off as just another pretty face, a charmer with a disarming smile and nothing deeper behind it—but he always found a way to prove them wrong. except when it came to you.
you, with your sharp wit and guarded heart. you’d known him long enough to see past his dazzling exterior, but you also had your assumptions about him, shaped by things you’d heard and what you thought you’d observed. you’d seen him with kory, with barbara, with women who seemed to flock to him effortlessly. to you, he seemed like someone who loved the chase more than the catch, someone who couldn’t sit still long enough to really, truly care. and that’s where the problem began.
it started with a rumor. one of your friends—a casual acquaintance of dick’s—had mentioned his “reputation” in passing, how he’d always been the heartbreaker of gotham’s streets. you’d smiled politely and brushed it off, but on the inside, your walls had risen. and then there were the times you’d seen him turn on the charm with women at galas or events, the way they seemed to melt under his intense gaze. it didn’t help that you were certain he could have anyone he wanted.
when dick started paying more attention to you, your first instinct was suspicion. he’d never been anything but kind, but now, his kindness seemed . . . targeted. personal. he asked about your day, remembered small details you’d mentioned weeks ago, found ways to cross your path more often than felt coincidental. he’d even shown up at your workplace once with a bag of takeout, claiming he was “just in the neighborhood,” though you were sure that wasn’t true. it was flattering and sweet, sure, but it also made you wary. he’d been like this with others before, hadn’t he?
“let me guess,” you said one day, crossing your arms as he caught up with you after a late-night outing with mutual friends. “you’re just doing this for fun, right? another notch on the great dick grayson belt?”
the words stung more than you expected. they slipped out before you could stop them, a mixture of your own insecurities and the walls you’d carefully constructed around your bleeding heart to protect yourself. dick froze mid-step, his easygoing smile faltering for the first time.
“what?”
“you don’t have to play dumb,” you continued, keeping your tone casual, though the tightness in your chest betrayed you. “i’m not one of those girls who’s going to fall for the charming guy.” you gestured vaguely towards him, your hands betraying your nerves as much as your words. “i mean, i’ve seen it all before. the sweet smile, the compliments that sound so personal but somehow aren’t. you’ve got a whole thing, dick. it’s practically a brand.” shifting your weight, your eyes darted away from his for a second before locking back in. “i’ve seen it with kory. with barbara. probably with whoever else came before or after. you walk in, sweep them off their feet with your ‘i’m just a nice guy with perfect hair and a killer backflip’ act, and then . . . i don’t know. you move on. it’s just what you do, isn’t it?”
the words spilled out faster than you could stop them, a mix of defensive sarcasm and the tiniest sliver of insecurity you hated admitting was there. the way his expression shifted, the way his easygoing demeanor cracked, told you you’d struck deeper than you intended—but you couldn’t back down now. not when your heart was hammering against the bones of your ribs, reminding you of all the reasons you’d kept him at arm’s length.
dick blinked, as if you’d just slapped him. for a moment, he didn’t respond, his mouth opening and closing like he couldn’t quite figure out what to say. the hurt in his eyes was almost enough to make you regret your words, but you stood firm, heart pounding.
“i . . . wow,” he finally said, running a hand through his dark locks. the tone of his voice was quieter than you’d ever heard it, stripped of the usual warmth and charm that seemed to come so effortlessly to him. his hand lingered at the back of his neck, fingers pressing into the tension there, like he was trying to ground himself. “that’s what you think of me?” he repeated. his blue eyes, normally so lively and teasing, searched yours for some kind of explanation, some hint that you didn’t mean it the way it sounded. but there was no teasing now, no easy smile to smooth over the rough edges of your words.
for once, dick grayson—always so confident, so sure of himself—seemed completely thrown, like you’d hit a nerve he didn’t even know existed.
in truth, the man was head over heels for you. he didn’t know when it had started exactly—maybe it was the first time he heard your real laugh, or when you’d gone out of your way to help a stranger on the street, or the way you always managed to keep up with his fast-paced banter. all he knew was that you were constantly on his mind, and he was trying everything he could think of to show you how much he cared. but clearly, he’d been going about it the wrong way.
“look, i know what people say about me. i know i’ve made mistakes, and yeah, i’ve had relationships that didn’t work out. but that doesn’t mean i’m—that i’m what you think i am.”
“then what are you, dick?” you challenged, your voice sharp even as doubt began to creep in. “because all i see is a guy who’s used to getting what he wants.”
he let out a breath, shaking his head. “i’m a guy who’s trying to show you that you’re important to me. that i care about you more than i’ve cared about anyone in a long time. but apparently, i’ve done a terrible job of that.”
the raw honesty in his voice caught you off guard. for the first time, you saw past the charm and the confidence to the vulnerability beneath. he wasn’t trying to manipulate you or play games—he was laying himself bare, and it terrified you almost as much as it touched you.
“you could have anyone,” you said quietly, your tone softening despite yourself. “why me?”
dick stepped closer, his hands in his pockets, as if he was trying to give you space while still closing the distance between you. “you challenge me. you make me want to be better. and yeah, maybe i’ve had a past, but none of that matters to me anymore.“
in the silence that followed, you felt your walls begin to crack. maybe he wasn’t perfect. maybe he’d made mistakes. but the sincerity in his eyes was impossible to ignore. he wasn’t just saying what he thought you wanted to hear—he was saying what he needed you to know. you allowed yourself to consider the possibility that he was telling the truth.
. . . JASON TODD !
JASON TODD WASN’T A MAN KNOWN FOR BEING SUBTLE, especially when it came to matters of the heart. his past had been a mess, filled with pain, betrayal, and a long string of failed attempts at normalcy. but despite all the scars, despite the weight of the past, there was something about you that made him want to try, that made him want to be someone better, someone worth your time. yet, every time he tried to get closer to you, it felt like you were slipping farther away, as if you saw him as nothing more than just another guy who wanted a quick fling—someone like the men who had come before him, someone who was only interested in getting into your pants.
it frustrated him to no end.
jason knew he wasn’t perfect. hell, he knew he had a lot of baggage, a lot of things that would make most people run in the opposite direction. but you? you didn’t just run. you were cautious, almost skeptical, like you were holding him at arm’s length, convinced he was just another fool who thought he could charm you with a few clever lines and some smooth moves. the way you looked at him sometimes—it wasn’t with the disgust or anger he used to see when people looked at him, but something close. disappointment, maybe. like he was nothing more than a shadow of someone who could be worthy of your time.
the thing that gnawed at him the most was that you didn’t believe him. you didn’t believe that he was different, that he saw something in you beyond the physical. there were days when you’d look at him, laughing at something he said, a playful smile tugging at your lips, and jason would get this flicker of hope that maybe—just maybe—you could see him the way he saw you. but then there were the other days. days when you’d pull away, your eyes distant, your words clipped, and it would hit him like a ton of bricks. you were still unconvinced.
it didn’t help that you knew his exes, some of the women from his past who had used him or only wanted him for the same thing you feared he wanted from you. and that only made you more guarded, more unwilling to take the chance on him. to you, it was as if he were just another man who came with a history of bad decisions. and to some extent, maybe you were right, but he wasn’t about to let that be the end of the story.
one night, after patrol, jason found himself sitting at your kitchen table. you were cooking ( his favorite ) , focused on your task, and he leaned back in his chair, watching you with a quiet intensity. he couldn’t help but study you—how you moved, how your eyes flickered over the ingredients, how you chewed on your bottom lip when you concentrated. he adored it all. and it pissed him off that he couldn’t just tell you how he felt without the weight of his past overshadowing it all.
“hey,” he finally spoke up, breaking the silence that had been hanging between you. you didn’t look at him right away, too absorbed in what you were doing, but when you did, it was with a look that said you knew exactly what was coming.
“jason,” you sighed, setting the knife down carefully and wiping your hands on the towel. “we’ve been through this.”
his brows furrowed, a frown tugging at the corner of his lips. “been through what?” he asked, trying to keep the frustration out of his voice but failing. “what’s the deal with you?”
you paused, your face softening with an almost sad smile. “what do you mean, what’s the deal with me?” you asked with your voice a mix of amusement and something else—something more guarded. you leaned against the counter, crossing your arms over your chest.
“you act like i’m just another guy you’re trying to keep at arm’s length,” jason said, vulnerable in a way he wasn’t used to. “i get it, alright? i do. i’ve messed up a lot. but i’m not trying to be just some guy who’s after your body. i’m not. i don’t know what else i have to say to make you believe that.”
your eyes softened upon hearing his rant, but there was still hesitation there, that skepticism that had become so familiar in his interactions with you. “jay, you’re a good guy, but . . .” you trailed off, searching for the words. “i’ve seen how things end with people like you. how they use others, and then leave them behind. and i’m not stupid. i can see how you look at me sometimes. it’s the same way you look at everyone else, isn’t it? like they’re just a means to an end.”
jason pushed himself up from his seat, crossing the small space between you in a few long strides. “that’s not how i look at you,” he stood firmly. “i don’t look at you like that at all. yeah, i’ve made mistakes. but i’m not the same guy who was a dickhead in the past, and i’m not the same guy who thought he could just charm his way into getting what he wanted. i care about you.”
you let out a breath, dropping your gaze for a moment, and his heart skipped a beat. there it was—the doubt, the hesitation that had been there for weeks, lingering just beneath the surface. he wasn’t going to let you slip away without trying, not when he knew what he felt. not when it was so clear to him that you were the one person who had somehow gotten through the walls he’d built.
“i’m not asking for anything from you,” he continued, his tone softening as he reached out, gently cupping your cheek with one hand, lifting your face so you had no choice but to meet his gaze. “i’m just asking for the chance to show you. i know you don’t trust me yet. i get that. but please, give me a shot. i’m not just gonna walk away. not this time.”
there was a beat of silence between you two, the air thick with everything unsaid. and for a moment, you just stood there, your eyes locked on his, reading him in a way that made his breath catch in his throat. he was giving you everything in that moment, his heart, his truth, all laid bare in front of you. and for the first time, he wasn’t sure if you would walk away.
but then, something in your eyes shifted. a small smile tugged at the corners of your lips, and you sighed, reaching up to gently take his hand from your cheek.
“okay,” you said softly, voice almost a whisper. “okay, jason. i’ll give you a chance.”
jason’s heart fluttered in his chest, and a grin tugged at his lips as he leaned forward to kiss you. he was a man who had always been wary of letting anyone get close, but when it came to you, he would do anything to prove he wasn’t the same man he once was.
and with that, for the first time in a long while, jason allowed himself to hope.
