divider by: @cafekitsune
word count: 1.1k
synopsis: After a long night on patrol, Bruce returns home to find his wife in the shower.
a/n: This is pure fluff, no smut.
The water was already warm, steam curling lazily against the marble walls as you stood under the shower, letting the heat soak into your muscles. A long sigh left your lips. Finally, quiet. Finally, peace.
Then the bathroom door creaked open.
You didn’t flinch—just smirked. “You better be naked if you’re coming in here.”
There was a soft grunt and the familiar shuffle of armour being stripped away. A utility belt thunked against the counter, followed by the muted rustle of fabric hitting tile.
You heard the shower door open a moment later. Then—
“Oh my god.” You twisted slightly to glance over your shoulder. “You smell like alleyway and sweat.”
Bruce stepped under the spray with a low groan. Water hit his chest, sluicing down over dirt-smudged skin and faint bruises blooming just beneath the surface.
“Active night,” he said gruffly. “You smell like flowers. I hate you a little.”
You laughed, turning fully to face him now, palms braced against his chest. “You’re filthy. I’m filing for divorce.”
He snorted, “Joke’s on you—I already put the mansion in your name. If anyone’s getting left out in the cold, it’s me.”
You grinned, fingers absently tracing the edge of a bruise blooming just under his collarbone. “Good. I’ll sell it and use the money to fund my villain era.”
His brows lifted, amused despite the exhaustion hanging under his eyes. “You? A villain?”
“I’d be great at it,” you said breezily. “Menacing, seductive, morally ambiguous. I’ve got the layers.”
“Please, if anything you’re more like a little thief. You steal my T-shirts,” he deadpanned.
You leaned in, lips brushing the edge of his jaw. “And don’t forget I also stole your heart. Look how far gone you are, Wayne.”
Bruce leaned in, crowding your space with the lazy weight of his body, head dipping low until his nose brushed yours. “Completely gone,” he murmured, voice roughened by the night, but eyes soft and unguarded in a way he reserved only for you. “Hopeless, really.”
Your smirk faltered into something gentler, fingers trailing up to tangle in the damp ends of his hair. “That makes the two of us,” you murmured. “Because it seems I’m hopelessly gone for you too.” You gave him a teasing look. “What other wife accepts that their husband dresses up like a bat and jumps across rooftops all night fighting killer clowns? They’d have to be insane.”
Bruce’s lips curved into a rare, amused smile. “Completely insane,” he agreed, eyes flicking over your face with fond exasperation. “We can share a cell in Arkham together.”
You huff out a soft laugh, resting your forehead against his. “You joke, but at this point I’m convinced we’ve already earned our own padded room.”
Bruce’s fingers traced idle circles at the small of your back. “I call top bunk.”
You snorted. “You would. But I’m warning you now, I’m stealing all the blankets.”
“You already do,” he murmured dryly. “Little thief.”
“So if we’re going by that technicality, that means you fell for a criminal.”
“Explains why I keep coming back,” he said, his voice dropping to a soft murmur as his fingers slipped beneath the curve of your waist. “You’re my favourite kind of danger.”
Your smile faded into something softer, more vulnerable, eyes meeting his in the hazy glow of steam and silence. “And you’re my safest place.”
Bruce didn’t say anything—not with words. He just kissed you. Slow. Deep. Steady.
The spray of the shower beat gently against your back, the scent of soap and heat curling between your bodies as his arms wound around you tighter.
Finally, you pull away, flicking you gaze back up to see his were still closed. “Turn around,” you whispered, nudging him gently.
He blinked open an eye, suspicious. “Why?”
“So I can scrub the grime off you, obviously.”
Bruce arched a brow, but the corners of his mouth twitched like he was fighting a smile. “You just want to feel up my muscles.”
You rolled your eyes. “I’m your wife, that’s my right.” You didn’t even try to deny it. “However, you’re still covered in dirt and god knows what else—and you stink.”
He let out a short snort but obeyed, turning so his back was to you, water trailing down the powerful lines of muscle and scars. You reached for the body wash and squeezed a generous amount into your palm.
Then you began—working in slow, gentle circles, your fingers gliding across his back with practiced care. You didn’t rush. You traced each scar like it was a story only you knew, every old wound and fading bruise a chapter you’d read too many times to count.
Because you had. You knew them all.
Every place Gotham had marked him. Every place he’d broken and healed. Every inch of pain he bore like armor beneath the cowl.
“You’re tense,” you murmured, thumbs pressing lightly into the tight line of his shoulders.
He hummed low in his throat. “You try fighting six guys in a rain-soaked alley.”
“Maybe next time,” you laughed quietly, fingers still digging expertly into the knots along his spine. Each pass of your hands drew out another groan, low and guttural, like the tension was finally bleeding out of him. You felt the weight leave his shoulders piece by piece.
“That’s it,” he murmured, voice rough around the edges. “I’m firing Alfred. You’re in charge of post-patrol recovery now.”
“You couldn’t afford me,” you teased.
“Try me.”
When you finished with his back, your hands slid downward, soft now, reverent, tracing the path you’d just soothed. For a beat, you just stood there—your palms resting flat against his skin, the thrum of his pulse steady beneath your fingertips.
Then, you reached for the shampoo.
You stretched up onto your tiptoes, trying to reach the top of his head, grumbling to yourself as your fingers barely skimmed his damp hair. “Why are you built like a damn skyscraper?”
Bruce let out an amused breath. “You need a stool?”
“Shut up,” you muttered, finally managing to get your hands into his inky locks.
Any teasing vanished the moment your fingers began working gently across his scalp. His eyes fluttered shut, lashes damp, unable to help the low, content exhale that slipped from his throat. He melted under your touch—shoulders loose, body quiet, breath slow.
You finished rinsing the suds from his hair with quiet care, the water rushing gently between you as your fingers combed through the last of the soap. When you were done, you let your arms wrap loosely around his waist, cheek pressing between his shoulder blades.
Then he turned, his hands finding your hips as he gently caged you between his body and the slick tile wall. He leaned down to kiss you again, lips finding yours with the kind of aching familiarity that had your heart skipping a beat.
summary: a glimpse into a slow cozy day with you and your growing little family
word count: 1.8k
content warnings/tags: 18+ only, girl dad!Robby, toddler fic, mentions of unspecified age gap, reader is pregnant, cozy & sweet fluff, husband!Robby & married goodness, introspective moments (thoughts of self doubt and internal struggle), parenting themes, jealous Robby with a splash of protective tenderness, soft domesticity vibes, light baseball discussion
a/n: my first ever fic for the Pitt & I’m so grateful getting to write it for the A Doctor A Day Writing Challenge [ #5 “tell me the truth, am I losing you for good?” + black] thank you so much @letsgobarbs @clubsoft & @ananonymousaffair for hosting this! And a sweet extra thanks to @jolapeno for cheering me on & giving me the push to post this
Robby didn’t believe his days could ever look like this. Soft warm spring light fills a cozy living room. The faint sounds of the Pirates game is on the tv -
And his daughter happily takes his full focus.
Her toys litter the carpet with no regard for any foot traffic and frankly, Robby doesn’t care that much either.
Your little girl is happily engrossed with the toddler hospital checkup playset Abbot got her this year for her birthday. She’s been obsessed with it, barely knows what she’s doing, but Robby can’t tear his eyes away from her.
Especially now as she readily tries to fix her Winnie the Pooh bear lying ready for examination on the pull out countertop.
Her face scrunched up in deep concentration looks exactly like yours as her chubby little hands clumsily put on the stethoscope.
“What’s your diagnosis, doc?” Robby asks her while he slowly sits up to move closer to her.
“Sick.” She quips simply, and his lips twitch amused.
“Did you check his heart? Make sure he’s okay.” He gently touches the center of the stuffed bear’s chest. Immediately his daughter, instead of using the stethoscope, leans down to press her ear against his chest.
Robby can’t help it, he laughs.
“Good, that’s a good start.” He reassures her.
Gently, he moves the colorful child sized stethoscope to sit on her properly. She eagerly roams the diaphragm all around the fuzzy bear’s tummy, diligently searching for something with it.
“Try to find the heartbeat.” He tells her patiently.
Robby then makes the familiar heart beat thump himself with a hum. Her eyes bloom surprised, becoming little bright stars.
She’s so smart, so damn quick. Immediately her sharp gaze flickers up, realizing it’s him making the noise and not the bear.
So stubborn, a trait she definitely inherited only from you and not an ounce from him, his daughter shoves the poor bear away and stomps towards Robby where he sits on the edge of the couch, opposite to where you sleep.
Seven months pregnant again and peacefully napping, lightly snoring even though you swear you don’t, you’re the picture of ease and steal Robby’s heart all over again.
When his little girl eagerly arrives at his side, Robby reminds her to stay quiet to make sure you get to rest.
Bubbling with curious eagerness, his daughter nods then presses her tiny hands against his face, checking for a fever the same way he does when she’s sick.
Robby feels as if his heart just might melt from his ribs.
It seems like only yesterday she was keeping you and him awake at all hours of the night as a newborn, so tiny in his arms as Robby went through singing two lullabies to get her to sleep. Now his baby is readily growing as her own little person, bright and curious.
“Check my heart.” He says with a watery grin while she tries listening to his chest.
Then, as if remembering something, she perks up and scurries back to the playset. His eyes perk up seeing her grab an otoscope and hurry back to him.
A burst of pride swells in his chest.
“Papa, say ah!” Gathering a composed sternness, he holds back a laugh while his daughter uses the toy otoscope, used to examine the ears, to check his throat.
But listening to his little girl, he does as told and she peeks inside examining him with the toy.
Then she makes a face, scrunched up and confused.
“What?” He questions curious now.
As caring and sweet as his daughter is, Robby knows exactly how mischievous she’s becoming. The smirk and tiny giggle she gives, he knows she’s up to something.
“What d’ya find, doctor?” He asks her again. She pays her father no mind and grabs a pack of play bandaids from the kit.
Wearing the most amused smirk she hurries back to him, the colorful stereoscope bouncing against her neck. Determined and with a firm step, his daughter arrives before him.
Patiently she then places one of the bandages on his lips. Her diagnosis? For him to stay silent.
“All done!” She announces bright, giggling proud, like she’s made the most hilarious inside joke.
Robby’s lips fight hard against a grin and the bandaid. He moves to take it off when his daughter spots him.
“Nah uh, papa! Rest.” She says with a firm head nod, he blinks stunned at her.
“Bossy… definitely your kid.” Your warm sleepy voice emerges. Gently you sit up from your nap, shoving away the small blanket.
You look so fucking god in his old black penguins hockey t-shirt, especially with your belly growing more and more. Slowly sitting up, you reach for him. Like you’re the extension of him, effortless and without any question, Robby gently draws you towards his side letting you now rest your head against his thigh.
“Mama!” Your daughter cries happy and loud, sliding towards you on the couch.
“I help papa!” She declares.
“Good job, sprout. You’re the doctor of the family now.” You playfully poke her nose.
She giggles triumphant. Robby then watches his little girl throw her small body over your tummy, hugging you and the baby as much as she can.
“Sissy, I help.” She’s been eagerly announcing everything to her little sister once she learned the baby could hear everything.
You finally glance up at Robby grinning at him. Noticing the bandaid on his lips, you gently peel it away before your daughter notices.
“Yeah you do, baby. You’re already such a good big sister wanting to take care of everyone.” You gently tell her through a yawn.
Robby wonders if this moment could shatter at any moment, like it’s too pure and good for him, too precious to believe it’s his.
But when your hand moves to rub his arm, your touch grounds him.
His eldest daughter suddenly squeaks happily, and you snicker. The baby must have kicked.
“Your baby sister is playing kickball in my tummy. Gonna give us a check up now too?” You offer, sitting up more. You now lean against Robby’s shoulder, and he happily welcomes your warmth.
Your daughter now babbles scurrying to the playset and grabs a random wooden spatula that somehow managed to sneak into her toy collection.
Deeming that important to her care, your little girl scurries back and presses her face against his black shirt.
“Sissy, no kick mama.” She orders.
You burst out laughing, and Robby covers his with a quick cough.
“I think she’s got the making of a good physician already,” you tell him.
“Her bedside manner could use some work.” Robby snorts, and you snicker.
Top of the 5th inning and Pirates are still tied zero to zero against the Astros. His daughter now yanks the playset closer to the couch allowing Robby to examine more of the tools.
He’s always been impressed by this thing. It’s rather accurate, makes him appreciate whoever made it.
“They even got the right buttons on the EKG machine, it’s pretty crazy.” He says messing with the toy set.
“I don’t know what kind of kid would want to be playing with this and not legos or barbie dream house or something else.” He lets the comment slide out a bit low.
Robby’s already torn when he thinks of his little girl’s future - if she’ll end up wanting to practice medicine or not. If that colorful stethoscope she wears will one day match his, black and professional.
A quiet sigh escapes you letting your hand rub his back now.
“She plays with both… plus I think she likes knowing she gets to pretend to be a grown up and help people like you.”
He lets your words sit gently and decides not to keep digging into this tangled topic.
“I still can’t believe there’s even multiple syringe and scissor options.” He chuckles, changing the subject.
“Might as well have included some clamps and blood bags.” Robby adds and then picks up one of the toys.
It takes him a moment to realize he's been rambling out loud mindless thoughts about this damn toy set for the game to be in a new inning now.
You’ve gone quiet now, and his eyes flicker down to you leaning against his chest.
“Alright,” he begins with a sigh.
“Tell me the truth… am I losing you for good?” He means it half jokingly.
Robby still can’t believe how lucky he is to have you, his absolutely gorgeous sweetheart. He’s holding his breath still, waiting any minute for you to wake up and realize you got stuck married to an old man like him.
Hell, just last week Robby had to calm himself down when the cashier had no fucking shame flirting with you, even as you wear Robby’s ring on your finger and have his second baby growing in your belly.
It’s almost as if a part of him is waiting to fully lose you, let you slip away from his fingers.
Your hand curls against his face now, rubbing against his bearded jaw as you draw him closer.
You place the softest kiss on his lips.
“Not at all,” you tell him gently. “If anything you hook me in more and more, Robinavitch. You’re stuck with me.”
A warmth collides in his chest like an unleashed sea.
Robby smirks, humming content as he places a kiss against your head.
“Love ya, kid.” He warmly tells you, sliding his arm around you.
And he does.
He adores you so damn much, didn’t think it was possible to love you any more but you love to prove him wrong.
His eldest daughter, now bored with the doctor's playset equipment, currently sits on the carpet floor fiddling with a colorful whale toy.
The pirates, now up to bat, suddenly hit a home run. Even through the tv, the ball is sent flying with a solid whack.
Robby cheers appreciatively, and your daughter immediately perks up eagerly scrambling to him with excited eyes as she bounces holding onto his arm.
“Papa, good?” She asks, picking up the excitement from the game.
“Yes baby girl, very good.” He grins.
“See,” you pat his leg affectionately, “No need to worry about her.”
“You’re gonna play baseball for the Pirates right, sprout?” You ask your daughter.
“Yup!” She says bright, probably not even realizing what she’s agreeing to as her focus stays on the TV.
That makes him laugh.
He’s never felt older and younger all at once, like a multitude of lifetimes has collided into him a beautiful cosmos shining bright.
All his girls together right before him, and he’s never felt luckier.
Robby wants to carve out this moment forever, letting it crystallize around him and soak in this warmth. One he wants to embrace and never let go.
Summary : Everyone is horrified that Bucky is flirting with a married woman, but then they realise there's a reason why.
Pairing : Thunderbolts!Bucky Barnes x florist!reader (she/her)
Warnings/tags : Secret wife trope. Cursing, Injury. Featuring the Thunderbolts*. Bucky kinda gaslights the entire team. Fluff!!!!
Word count : 3k
Note : The next chapter of spoils of war is almost here, but I just need to go over a couple of paragraphs! In the meantime, enjoy!
The Thunderbolts knew a few undeniable truths about Bucky Barnes.
One: He was grumpy.
Two: He was a private person.
Three: He never, ever let anyone see where he lived.
That last one bothered them the most. They’d pieced together the general area; a quiet neighborhood with old brick buildings, modern cafés, and just enough charm to make it feel… vintage. But no one had ever set foot inside his home, no one had even seen him unlock the door to his sanctuary, since he dodged every casual suggestion to hang out at his place with a variation of “I got plans” or another. And, curiously, every time they stopped for coffee in this part of town, Bucky would mysteriously slip into the tiny flower shop beneath a brick apartment building.
That was odd. No one would’ve guessed that Bucky Barnes even liked flowers.
What was even odder was that this infinitely grumpy, emotionally constipated, “I hate people” supersoldier — would be capable of flirting.
With the florist.
With you.
“Are we seeing this right?” Yelena whispered, elbowing Alexei as they peered through the shop window after Bucky made them wait outside.
They watched as Bucky stood by the counter, leaning in ever so slightly, a charming grin tugging at the corner of his mouth as he watched you wrap a bouquet.
“He’s smiling,” Alexei muttered, horrified.
Inside, Bucky reached for the bouquet you were tying up, his gloved fingers brushing against yours. You playfully smacked his hand away, laughing. He laughed, too, and that was enough to send Yelena spiraling into an existential crisis.
Yelena squinted. “He’s flirting.”
Alexei frowned. “Bucky does not flirt.”
“I know. That’s why I’m freaking out.”
They watched as you handed him the bouquet, and in return, Bucky gave you a wink. And then he turned, walking out like he hadn’t just transformed into a different person.
That was when Yelena, utterly horrified Yelena, caught a flash of gold on your ring finger. She squinted her eyes. It was unmistakable. “Wait a second—”
As soon as he got back to them, Alexei folded his arms. “You were flirting.”
Bucky scoffed. “I was not.”
“She’s married!” Yelena accused, pointing dramatically. “She had a ring! You flirted with a married woman!”
Bucky didn’t even blink. He simply shrugged, tucking the bouquet carefully under his arm. “I didn’t see a ring.”
“She was literally wearing it—”
“I didn’t see a ring,” Bucky insisted, tugging absentmindedly at the chain around his neck— the one that held his dog tags, hidden under his shirt.
Yelena and Alexei exchanged a deeply disturbed look.
Bucky Barnes was flirting with a married florist.
What was the world coming to?
—
Bucky knew he’d fucked up the second he stepped back into Thunderbolts HQ.
Alexie had just looked confused, while Yelena had been simmering the entire walk back, her arms crossed so tightly over her chest it was a miracle she hadn’t snapped a rib.
She lasted exactly two seconds before she exploded. “You are jackass, Barnes!”
Bucky barely had time to sigh before she stomped closer.
“What’s so wrong with what I did?” he muttered, placing the bouquet of flowers in an empty vase
Yelena let out an incredulous laugh, pacing in front of him like a caged tiger ready to strike. “What’s wrong?” she echoed, her accent thickening with rage. “You flirted with a married woman! I should punch you in the face on principle!”
From the lounge, John Walker looked up from whatever government-issued nonsense he was pretending to read. His brows immediately furrowed, his eyes twisting into the signature disapproving dad look he’d perfected. “Wait, what?”
Ava, who had been drinking tea in the corner, raised an eyebrow. “This is scandalous,” she murmured, eyes brightening with intrigue.
Alexei, who was now plopped on the couch like some washed-up, Soviet-era king, said, “If a man had flirted with my wife like that, I would have hunt him down and mount his head on wall.” He crossed his arms, nodding to himself in approval. “As is tradition.”
Bucky scowled. “I wasn’t flirting.”
“Oh?” Yelena snorted, “So you were just undressing her with your eyes for fun, then?”
Bucky rolled his eyes. “That’s just how I look at people.”
Alexie shook his head. “So you look at us like that?”
Bucky opened his mouth. Then immediately shut it.
Yelena’s hands curled into fists. “Yeah. Thought so.”
John’s arms crossed over his chest in that holier-than-thou stance that he was so famous for. “Look, man, I’m married. And if someone flirted with my wife, we’d have a problem.”
“Oh, fuck off,” Bucky groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “You guys are making a big deal out of nothing.”
“Nothing?” Yelena threw up her hands. “She’s married, Bucky!”
“Okay, even if I was flirting,” Bucky turned to her, exasperated— “I didn’t see a ring.”
Yelena’s hands flew to her head, fingers digging into her scalp like she was resisting the urge to rip out her own hair. “You probably chose to look away!”
John sighed like a disappointed youth pastor. “This is unbelievable.”
“No,” Bucky still insisted, “I didn’t see a ring.”
Yelena’s jaw dropped. “It was a thick gold band, Barnes. How could you not see it?”
Ava, who was clearly enjoying the drama more than anyone, sighed. “That is inappropriate behaviour, Barnes.”
Alexei shook his head again, “You should apologise.”
“I’m not apologising,” Bucky scoffed, “Because I did nothing wrong.”
His fingers toyed absentmindedly with the chain that led to his dog tags, and Yelena immediately locked onto the movement. Every person has a tell, a habit they did when they were nervous. And being a super spy, Yelena knew this was his.
She narrowed her eyes. “You are gaslighting us,” she muttered, pacing again like she was mentally weighing the pros and cons of strangling a super soldier.
“I didn’t see a ring,” Bucky repeated, his voice steady.
“You’re lying,” she snapped.
He shrugged, maddeningly casual in all of this chaos. “Guess we’ll never know.”
Ava laughed cynically. “I can’t tell if you’re a complete scumbag or if this is just really fun for you.”
Bucky just popped a beer from the fridge, flicking the cap off with his metal hand. “Why not both?”
He took a long sip of his beer, completely unbothered.
And maybe, he looked a little bit too smug.
—
Three weeks later, Bucky led Yelena and John on a mission to take down a high-scale arms dealer.
And, as always, the mission had gone sideways.
It was too late for any shops to be open, too late for anyone with a shred of common sense to be out on the streets.
Yelena was bleeding, pressing a torn scrap of fabric against a deep gash on her arm. John had a busted lip and a slight limp. Bucky was sporting a few cuts and bruises himself, but nothing he hadn’t shaken off a thousand times before.
“Guys,” Yelena managed a grunt, shifting her grip on her makeshift bandage, “we need to get ourselves patched up before one of us drops dead.”
“We ran out of antiseptics back at HQ,” John reminded them.
Yelena groaned, throwing her head back in despair. “So what are we supposed to do?” She gritted out, “Just bleed out in the street like sad little orphans?”
John scowled. “That’s a little dramatic.”
Yelena turned and glared at him. “Your face is dramatic.”
Bucky let out a deep breath through his nose, running a hand along his damp hair. He glanced around the street, making sure they weren’t being followed before whispering to himself, “Guess we’re doing this now.”
Yelena tilted her head. “Doing what?”
Instead of answering, Bucky turned on his heel and started walking.
John and Yelena gave each other a wary look.
“I don’t like when he does that,” John said.
“No one does,” Yelena agreed, but they both followed anyway.
It didn’t take long for them to recognise the route— It was the neighbourhood where the team usually got coffee.
But Bucky wasn’t heading to the café.
They rounded the corner, and suddenly John stopped dead in his tracks.
It was a closed florist—the very one where Bucky had, allegedly, been trying to charm his way into a married woman’s bed.
To John’s absolute horror, Bucky walked right up to the door and knocked.
“Bucky.” He said, voice strangled. “What the hell is this?”
Yelena blinked. “I don’t think we need to seduce a married florist to get medical supplies.”
Bucky sighed, rubbing his temples like he was already regretting this decision. He turned to them, leveling them both with a look. “Alright, listen up,” he said through gritted teeth. "The secret’s out now, so you two gotta keep your mouths shut.”
John’s brows furrowed. “What secret?”
Before Bucky could answer, the door to the flower shop clicked open.
And there you were, standing in the doorway, wrapped in one of Bucky’s hoodies, looking exactly how he’d expected: exasperated but unsurprised. He knew you’d still be up, cataloguing the latest floral shipment for tomorrow’s arrangements.
The second your eyes landed on a bruised and bloodied Bucky, and flanked by two wounded Thunderbolts, no less—you let out a sigh.
“James,” you said knowingly, your voice laced with fond irritation. “What did you do?”
Yelena and John froze in their tracks.
James?
James?
No one called Bucky by his first name. No one. Not unless they had a death wish.
Bucky, unfazed, just stepped inside. “We ran out of antiseptics, honey.”
Yelena and John exchanged a wide-eyed look.
Honey?
You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Again?”
Bucky shrugged like this was a perfectly normal Thursday night occurrence.
You muttered under your breath, “I should’ve known this would happen when I married an ex-assassin.”
Oh.
Yelena’s mouth opened, closed, then opened again. “Married.” she repeated
John blinked rapidly. “This is why we can never go to your place?”
Bucky could only shrug. Of course it was— they would have seen the evidence of how much love in his home was carved out for just you.
John let out a wheeze.
Yelena pointed between you and Bucky, motioning erratically. “Wait. WAIT. So—so she’s your wife? She married you?”
Bucky nodded. “Yup.”
“Like—actually married?”
“Mhm.”
Yelena gasped, clutching her chest like she’d been personally betrayed. In a way, she had. “And no one knows?”
Bucky thought for a second. “Sam does.”
“And Joaquin,” you added, trying to be helpful.
Bucky nodded. “Right. Joaquin.”
“Oh, and Isaiah and Elijah Bradley.”
“Yeah, they were at the wedding.”
“A teenager knew about this,” John’s eye twitched, “—and we didn’t?”
Bucky could only nod again.
Yelena rubbed a hand down her face, “You gaslit us,” she accused, jabbing a finger at Bucky. “You let us believe you were a homewrecker for weeks—when you were married the whole time?!”
You snorted, glancing at Bucky, who had the audacity to look smug. “Yeah, that sounds like my husband.”
Yelena let out a string of very creative Russian curses.
John looked like he was about to have a stroke.
“All secrets aside,” you said, welcoming the two disoriented Thunderbolts in and locking the door behind you, “It’s good to finally meet you both.”
John still looked like he was buffering. Yelena, on the other hand, was vibrating with adrenaline, looking like she was trying to solve a conspiracy theory in real time.
“This is—this is insane,” she muttered, pointing aggressively at Bucky, then at you, then back at Bucky. “You’re—you’re so normal.”
You laughed, shaking your head. “I’d like to think so.”
Bucky just hummed. “She’s perfect.”
Yelena actually sputtered like an old car engine.
John made a noise that was somewhere between a groan and a strangled laugh. This was all too much.
But there wasn’t time to let them spiral further. Bucky, gently nudged you toward the others. “Take care of them first, darling. They’ve got worse injuries.”
You frowned, wanting to protest—because, really, Bucky should always be your first priority—but your husband was nothing if not stubborn. You knew better than to argue when he had that look in his eyes— you knew that fighting him on this would only drag things out longer, and right now, time was precious.
You turned your attention to Yelena and John, motioning for them to follow you deeper into the shop. The scent of lavender, roses, and freshly cut stems—clung to the air as you led them toward the back, where your little work table stood tucked in the corner.
Years of practice had made you quick. You moved with quiet efficiency, gathering supplies from neat shelves: you cut and split an aloe vera plant for burns, grabbed bandages, and a mix of balms you’d perfected over your time tending to Bucky. It wasn’t the kind of sterile, military-grade first aid they were used to, but it would have to do for now.
You started tending to Yelena’s arm, gently dabbing the wound with fresh aloe. She hissed through her teeth before narrowing her eyes at you.
“So how long has this been a thing?” she demanded. Bucky, now leaning lazily against the counter with his arms crossed, barely spared her a glance. “A while.”
John scoffed, “A while?”
You bit back a grin as you smoothed a bandage over Yelena’s arm, “Three years.”
Yelena’s jaw dropped.
“Three—” She turned to Bucky so fast it was a miracle she didn’t give herself whiplash. “You’ve been married for three years?!”
John let out a long, defeated groan,This was simply too much to process. “Fuck’s sake.”
Yelena shook her head. “I thought you were a loner who hated people."
Bucky only shrugged, unbothered.
You chuckled as you pressed the last piece of medical tape into place on Yelena’s arm. “Alright, you’re done.” Then, glancing at John, you motioned for him to sit. “Your turn.”
John sighed but still plopped down. You took his hand gently, turning it over to examine his bruised knuckles before moving to his busted lip.
Meanwhile, they kept peppering you with questions, barely giving you room to breathe.
“How did you meet?”
“How do you put up with Bucky’s brooding?”
“Does he ever actually smile?”
At that last one, you paused, dabbing at John’s lip carefully. “He smiles all the time.”
John let out a scoff. “No, he doesn’t.”
You glanced over at Bucky, knowing he showed that part of him to you and no one else. “Oh, he does.”
And then, finally, it was Bucky’s turn.
You turned to him, your brows knitting together as you studied the little cuts on his cheek, the dried blood near his brows. He looked a little tired, a little worn around the edges.
Your fingers found his chin, tilting his face toward you as you inspected the damage. Your touch was so featherlight, so incredibly careful. There was no missing the way your thumb brushed over his cheekbone— how incredibly gentle it was.
“You should’ve let me do you first,” you murmured, half-scolding, half-concerned.
Bucky’s lips curved into a small smile, a flicker of mischief lighting his tired blue eyes. “That’s exactly what you said last night, sweetheart.”
John choked.
Yelena groaned, grabbing the nearest pillow from the nearest chair and hurling it at Bucky’s head. “You two are disgusting.”
Bucky caught the pillow effortlessly, giving her a smug grin before setting it aside. When his eyes found yours again, his shit-eating grin turned… lovely. The tension in his brows eased as you dabbed gently at his cut.
For all the blood, for all the bruises, you handled him like he was glass.
And then, without thinking, you leaned in.
It was meant to be a brief kiss— a quick reassurance, a way of saying I’ve got you. But the moment your lips brushed his, you couldn’t help but linger.
Your fingers curled instinctively against his chin. His hand found your waist without hesitation, as if he needed you closer. As if the world shrank down to just the two of you.
John and Yelena exchanged a look, the previous horror of their teammate hiding a secret wife momentarily forgotten because this was… weirdly cute.
You giggled as you pulled away, seeing Bucky looking at you like you hung the moon for him.
“Anywhere else?” you asked, brushing your thumb over his lips.
Bucky hesitated just for a second. Then, a little sheepishly, he said, “Got a cut on my ribs.”
You exhaled, shaking your head. Of course he did. Before he could argue, you reached for the hem of his shirt and tugged.
“Off,” you said simply.
Bucky huffed but didn’t fight you. He lifted his arms, letting you strip the fabric from his skin, and goddamn.
Bucky, half-naked, was unfairly, ridiculously beautiful. Even now, even after all this time, seeing him like this still knocked the breath from your lungs. His body was a roadmap of battles fought and survived, scars carved into the expanse of his chest and ribs that told stories only he could say.
John made a strangled sound, somewhere between “Jesus Christ” and “I need to leave the room,” but you ignored him completely. Yelena let out a dramatic sigh and whispered “they are one second away from sucking each other’s face off,” to herself.
You tuned them both out, fingers dragging carefully over Bucky’s ribs, searching for the wound. When you found a thin jagged cut just below his ribs— you sighed softer this time and reached for the aloe.
“You need to stop getting hurt, my love,” you said, smoothing the cool gel over his skin.
Bucky’s voice came quieter. “Lucky I have someone to take care of me, then.”
And that’s when Yelena finally noticed it.
The thin chain around Bucky’s neck—one she’d always assumed was just for his dog tags—held something else, too.
A ring.
A simple wedding band that matched yours, worn from years of resting against his skin.
She blinked, realisation hitting her like a freight train. Oh.
That’s why he always played with it.
Every time Bucky was nervous, every time he was uncertain, his fingers would move to that chain—not just to fiddle with his tags, but to remind himself of you.
Maybe he wasn’t a complete jackass after all.
-end.
Note: Hope this doesn't bite me in the ass when the movie comes out.
pairing : Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x Reader (established marriage)
summary: Myrna’s being Myrna. Somewhere between the chaos, you and Robby manage to come up for air.
warnings/content: Fluff, Hospital setting, strong language, married intimacy, mild sexual tension(?), bodily fluids (mentioned), chaotic workplace dynamics, Myrna.
word count: 1,767, not beta read.
a/n: I’ve written so much smut and angst lately… felt like I needed a fluff filler. Honestly, with everything Robby’s been through too—he deserves one just as much as I do.
Someone left the remains of a hoagie in the trauma fridge again, and now the back hallway reeks of vinegar, cold cuts, and poor life choices.
The smell hits you as soon as you clear the curtain bay—sharp, sour, unmistakably fermented. You pause mid-step. Behind you, Dana makes a strangled noise in her throat and immediately starts waving a clipboard in the air like it’s going to do something other than stir it up.
“If this is Whitaker’s doing,” Dana says, already pinching the bridge of her nose, “I’m pulling him from patients and assigning him to mop duty and moral reflection.”
You snort. “Pretty sure that’s not in the union handbook.”
She’s already striding ahead. “Then I’ll write my own damn handbook.”
Just ahead, Robby moves through the corridor like a man who’s been paged three times too many. Hoodie sleeves shoved to his elbows, coffee in one hand, a clipboard tucked under his arm, and a look that says he’s thirty seconds from announcing his retirement.
Whitaker’s hustling to keep up, slightly flushed and fumbling with a stack of blank admission forms and a clipboard clearly marked for peds. He’s also holding an empty emesis basin and a bag of saltine crackers.
“I dropped the kid off in Pediatrics like you told me to,” he says, catching his breath. “Then someone threw up on my shoes, I handed over some crackers as a peace offering, and I think I accidentally took this chart on my way out while trying to avoid a loud debate about Paw Patrol and screen time.”
Robby doesn’t even look at him. “Why are you holding a puke tray?”
“Someone in Peds handed it to me. I panicked and said thank you.”
“You don’t work there, Whitaker. You work in emergency.”
“Yeah, well, try telling that to the four-year-old who called me Doctor Crackers and wouldn’t let go of my hand.”
Dana watches Whitaker veer off toward supply, jaw tightening just slightly. “If he volunteers himself into another department’s meltdown, I’m having his badge color-coded for liability.”
You raise a brow. “Is that a charge nurse threat?”
“It’s preventative management.”
Before you can reply, the air shifts—like it always does when Myrna materializes. The low squeak of her wheelchair wheels, the jingle of cheap bracelets, and then—
“Hey, fruitcake.”
Robby slows when he sees her. Not surprised. Not annoyed. Just—ready, in that way he gets when Myrna’s name is involved in a trauma note or a psych hold request.
He hesitates, jaw clenched, clipboard tucked tighter under his arm as he steps in behind the wheelchair—slow and deliberate, one hand on the back like he's guiding a live grenade disguised in costume jewelry.
Myrna is cuffed, of course—standard protocol—but she’s sitting tall like she’s holding court. Her walker is bungee-corded to the back of the chair, and there’s a half-empty Styrofoam cup in the side pocket that no one remembers giving her. She smells like menthols and peach Schnapps. Her lipstick is smeared. Her eyes are sharp.
She cranes her head slightly to look up at Robby and grins with all the self-satisfaction of someone who knows exactly how to ruin your day and plans to do it slowly.
Robby exhales. “Myrna. What brings you in today?”
“I murdered my husband.”
“How’d you do it this time?”
“Meat grinder.”
She shifts in her seat, adjusting the tilt of her chair. When he stops, she immediately starts wheeling herself toward the empty staff breakroom like she owns the place—completely ignoring the Employees Only sign.
“Where do you think you’re going, Myrna?”
“Oh, none of your business, fruitcake.”
His jaw ticks. The clipboard drops half an inch.
“Actually, everything that happens in this department is my business. And you know what? I put up with a lot around here. I take very good care of you. So you can call me Dr. Robinavitch, or Dr. Robby, or you can use my first name, Michael. But I do not appreciate being called fruitcake.”
Dana leans toward you. “He’s two years and one more nickname away from tossing his pager in the East River and moving into a cabin with no electricity.”
You snort. “He can move to the woods if he wants, but I’m not following him into a life of compost toilets and mosquito nets. He’ll be back the second he realizes I’m not coming with.”
Back in the hall, Myrna shrugs.
“Oh, did I hurt your feelings, cocksucker?”
Dana snorts. You press your fingers to your mouth.
Robby takes a breath. “That said, it has a certain whimsical quality I can probably learn to live with.”
“Whatever you say, fruitcake.”
Without missing a beat, she pivots her wheelchair and rolls with precision toward the ambulance bay doors. The automatic sensor doesn’t catch her on the first pass, so she backs up, then rams the base of the door with enough force to jolt the frame—and nearly set off the motion alarm. A “Wet Floor” sign topples in her wake.
Then, slowly, she lifts her cuffed wrists and waves them at the security camera like she’s on parade.
Robby doesn’t move. Just watches her, unreadable.
She pauses at the edge of the exit, half-turned in her chair, chin tilted up like she’s daring someone to try and stop her.
A nurse nearby mutters, “Do we stop her… or let natural selection take it from here?”
You find him later in the breakroom, elbows braced on the table, fingers pressed into his brow like he’s trying to force the day out through his skull. His coffee sits untouched beside a chart he’s clearly given up pretending to read. The overhead light is flickering, unresolved, adding to the static hum that no one has the energy to report anymore.
You slide your coffee beside his and drop into the seat next to him. No words, not yet. Just your knee brushing his under the table—light, intentional, familiar. He doesn’t look at you, but he exhales like you just gave him permission to breathe.
After a beat: “I’m fine.”
You sip your coffee. “Mmm. Then why have you been brooding like a cursed Victorian husband.”
He drags his hands down his face and groans. “She called me a cocksucker in front of the whole emergency department.”
“And you didn’t throw anything,” you say. “Which, frankly, is a win.”
You nudge your foot against his. “Do you want me to fight her?”
His brow furrows. “What?”
“Outside. Ambulance bay. High noon.”
That earns the smallest crack of a smile.
“I’m serious,” you add. “I’m fully within my spousal rights to go feral.”
“Pretty sure that’s not in the HR manual.”
“Pretty sure it’s in the vows.”
He huffs out a reluctant laugh, and you feel the air between you shift. Lighter. Less taut. The corner of his mouth tilts in that way you’ve learned to love—subtle, fleeting, like warmth in a place that rarely allows it.
“Dana probably already has a memo drafted,” he mutters. “Something official—‘Effective immediately, all consults will refer to Dr. Robinavitch as Fruitcake.’”
You grin. “She has. It’s laminated. I signed off on it.”
He shakes his head, smiling despite himself. “You’re enjoying this too much.”
“I’m married to you. I take my entertainment where I can get it.”
He finally leans back, posture loosening. “One of these days, I’m torching this whole department.”
“You won’t,” you say. “You love this place too much.”
“I love you. Everything else is negotiable.”
You fall quiet at that, the kind of quiet that makes room for a hand to reach across the table. Yours. His. You’re not even sure. But they find each other easily, like always.
“You were good today,” you say. “The way you handled her. All of it. You didn’t give her the chaos she wanted.”
“She got under my skin.”
“But she didn’t get a reaction. That’s power. That’s control. I'm proud of you.”
He looks at you. Really looks at you. And for a moment, it’s quiet in a way this place rarely is.
“You’re always proud of me,” he says, voice softer now.
You smile, just a little. “Not always. Just when you deserve it.”
A pause. He huffs, but it’s fond. “You should put that on a sticker.”
“Already did.” You nudge his elbow. “Slapped it on your locker right under the one that says ‘Fruitcake of the Month.’”
He groans. “I married a menace.”
“You married smart.”
“You tricked me.”
You squeeze his hand. “And I’d do it again.”
The silence that settles next isn’t heavy. It’s married silence. Full of the things you don’t need to say because you’ve already said them a hundred different ways over coffee cups and night shifts and shared exhaustion.
You glance toward the hallway, then back to him, voice lower now. “Sometimes I wonder how we’re still standing in all this. You, me. This place.”
He watches you for a long moment, then says, “Because you make it worth it.”
A pause.
Then—
“I’m not kissing you in the breakroom,” he says eventually, eyes still on yours.
“I know.”
“But I want to.”
“I know that too.”
Another small smile. “You’re trouble.”
“And you’re mine.”
The moment hangs there—warm and quiet and stupidly rare. It's the kind of silence that only happens when two people know each other too well to need more words.
His pager buzzes on the table. You both glance at it but don’t move right away. Then, like muscle memory, he stands and grabs his clipboard. You collect the two half-finished coffees and toss them without comment.
When you step toward the door, your hand brushes his—not by accident. He doesn’t take it, not here, not with the door just about to swing open. But he squeezes your fingers once, fast and familiar. It’s not affection, exactly. It’s reassurance. A habit. A promise.
You exit the breakroom together.
The hallway feels colder by comparison. Brighter. Louder. Someone’s calling out discharge instructions. A gurney wheel shrieks as it sticks on the threshold. The ER is alive again, like it never paused.
He walks ahead of you, falling back into his role like pulling on a second skin—focused, efficient, slightly intimidating. But you know that look. You know the weight he’s carrying.
When his hand grazes yours again at the hallway bend, he doesn’t pull away right away.
You don’t hold hands. You don’t need to.
But the warmth lingers.
That’s the thing about marriage in a place like this : there’s never time. So you take the seconds. And when you find each other in them, you hold on.
Summary: Robby has had a really shitty day, maybe he just needs his girlfriend to comfort him
Follows the pacing of the show so minor spoilers if you’re still not caught up
Warnings: explicit sexual content, minors dni, unprotected sex, p in v, creampie, oral (fem receiving), he talks her through it (yes he does and yall can’t tell me otherwise), age gap (reader is 35 and Robby is 50) (ik he’s probably Noah’s age but just bare with me here), established relationship, just vanilla sex really
WC: 6.3k no I’m not sorry
A/N: bahahah nobody look at meeeee. I think I outdid myself with this, I’m never beating the daddy issues allegations. This man just makes me so feral I couldn’t help myself. I’m hoping some of yall have been down bad too otherwise just ignore me (if this flops I’ll cry). Also tagging my bestie bc she has experienced my madness in real time🩷 @wittyjasontodd
You knew today would be an absolutely abhorrent day. You could feel it, the second that dumb clock hit six a.m, you knew. You knew it when you texted him if he wanted to eat dinner at your place after your shift, and he told you that he didn’t know when exactly he would get off his. He was working today and that made you sick to your stomach, a deep sense of anxiety and worry settling in. And you couldn’t shake that feeling all fucking day.
You didn’t want to worry about him, coddle him and suffocate him like he was a teenager, he surpassed you by quite a few years for you to be doing that. Still, you couldn’t not worry about him down there. His day was normally absolutely draining as it was, but having to deal with that today out of all days, it concerned you just how well he could compartmentalize his own issues and the issues of dozens and dozens of other people.
You were tempted to come downstairs yourself and check in on him under the excuse of bringing him coffee and something to eat. But then that would be weird. Then people would know. Well, you had a suspicion people did know by now, it was a bit hard to hide a relationship after two years. Though it was a bit easier considering you were all the way up in the pediatrics ICU and not in the Pitt. Still, you definitely noticed the knowing glances of Perla and Princess whenever you came down for a consultation or if they saw you sneak into the doctor’s lounge.
Dana knew, though you never told her. You didn’t think Robby told her either. You thought it took her maybe a month to figure it out. You prided yourself on how discrete you were about it, and still are. You walk together whenever your shifts align, hands locked and headphones in as you both enjoyed the short time you had in each other's calming presence before you didn’t see each other for twelve-plus hours. And then you went your separate ways, a quick kiss and a hushed ‘love you’ before going through completely different entrances to be extra cautious. You have been doing this since day-one. How Dana figured it out was beyond your extensive knowledge.
You both would like to think other than Dana’s superhuman ability to read people, you had managed to keep things private. It was better that way, doctors were such odd creatures, you almost positively knew that ‘favoritism’ would end up circulating around sooner or later, since, once upon a time where you were a bright-eyed and still a had will to live first-year resident, Robby was your attending. Albeit he was married at the time and you were engaged, you knew someone would find a way to turn it into something it wasn’t.
Today, however, you weren’t quite such how reserved you could be when you knew he was struggling.
You sat on your desk, a long exhale of exhaustion leaving your lips as you ran your hands over your face, enjoying the few minutes of peace and quiet you had managed to find. And then you heard a ping. You sat up, eyes shooting open as you reached for your phone with annoyance. You thought it was the hospital, but when you unlocked your phone you saw it was a message from Dana.
Well, fuck.
Dana: can you check on Robby? The overdose kid is hitting him pretty hard
A long sigh left your lips as you read over the message, heaviness settling in your chest. You had been keeping up with it since earlier this morning, you had hoped maybe the kid would respond to treatment. You guessed things hadn’t been so easy down there.
Me: you don’t think the kid is gonna make it?
Dana: Robby doesn’t think so. Come check on him please. He was gone for a while earlier
Another heavy sigh left your lips. Today was not the day for this.
Me: he doesn’t like it when I make him talk about his feelings
You weren’t entirely exaggerating. Robby wasn’t emotionally unavailable, the opposite, if anything, he was painfully aware of his feelings. He just didn’t like talking about them, especially when they were ER related. He would send you into a psych ward if he told you everything he experienced on a daily basis, he told you. And you respected it, your year in the Pitt definitely wasn’t the highlight of your life, and you admired him for choosing to stay there for so long.
Dana: you’re not. You’re just being a supportive girlfriend. Come, now.
You didn’t have to be in front of her to know she was being serious. You figured if you didn’t come down at some point she would physically come get you herself if that’s what it took. So best not to test the universe today. You had some time before your next appointment anyway. And Dana was right, you wanted him to know you were there, even if he didn’t always want it.
It came as a shock to no one that you ultimately found your way downstairs. It was always loud on your floor, but nowhere near as bad as the pitt. You tried your best to not draw attention to yourself, though with everything going on down here and all the people that came and went, you figured you would blend in for the most part. You hoped to find Dana at her desk, preferably alone, as to avoid awkward small talk and questionable looks since nobody actually called you down here for any medical reasons. You internally thanked the universe when you spotted Dana on her computer.
“Hey.” You spoke quietly, hands shoved into your pockets a bit sheepishly as you glanced around before looking back at her. She gave you a warm smile of gratitude and nodded at you.
“Don’t make that face, it’s not that bad down here.” She teased, calling out your hypervigilant mannerisms and the uncomfortable look on your face. You didn’t mind being here, but only when you had a reason to be, you definitely didn’t want to have to explain you came down here to check in on your boyfriend.
“I know.. But you know..” you gave her a look. But you didn’t have to say anything, she knew what you meant, she just liked teasing you about it.
“South 16 is empty. I’ll tell him I need him for something. Just be quick, we might need the room.” She told you in a hush, resuming her typing away at her computer. You quietly nodded, briefly reaching to lightly squeeze her shoulder as a silent thank you.
You waited a bit anxiously, shooting a glance at your watch. Shit, you had to be back upstairs in ten minutes to check up on a patient. But you didn't want to leave without at least making sure he was okay. Even if he was just going to brush you off and tell you that everything was fine, you at least wanted to see him. You waited another minute, and with a sigh you turned to pull the curtains out, but someone beat you to it. You jumped back a bit, eyes wide for a second before you realized.
He wasn't quite looking at you, or maybe he just wasn't paying that much attention, he thought he was in the wrong room at first.
“Sorry—oh.” Robby glanced behind him for a second, bit confused as he closed the curtain behind him. You smiled lightly as he looked at you both with confusion and relief to see you. Now matter how hectic or chaotic his day had been, how many times he had to chase down his residents, or many patients were a pain in his ass, seeing you always brought him a sense of calmness. He was ashamed to admit he was completely infatuated with you. His racing mind ultimately landed back on you, and he realized; he didn't remember calling you down. Maybe one of the residents did? But they didn't check with him first. “Hey, what uh.. What are you doing down here?”
“Just wanted to check in, I heard you’ve had a rough day.” You said quietly, lightly nibbling on your bottom lip as you stepped closer to him. He looked down at you, a heavy sigh leaving his lips and his jaw clicked lightly as he reminded himself to curse Dana out later. He didn’t want you to worry. He said nothing, so you continued, “The college kid, you don’t think he's gonna make it?”
He tried to hold back another sigh, but he couldn't help it, he squeezed his eyes shut and scratched the back of his head with exasperation. He considered not going into details, giving you the same bullshit answer he gave the parents. He never wanted to burden you with his issues, with the baggage that came with the ER. He always wanted to keep out of the relationship, though he found that to be quite the challenge. When he opened his eyes again and found your pretty eyes looking back at him, with that warmth and kindness that made him want you in the first place. Maybe he should open up, to you at least.
“Uh, no. He’s braindead so there’s nothing we can do.” The words left him like a ton of bricks, heavy and sharp. Your face immediately fell and your lips parted open lightly. You tilted your head at him, but said nothing. He wasn’t quite looking at you as he continued, “I keep ordering all these tests for the parents, but I know. And I don’t know if giving them false hope will make things worse for them.”
You nodded softly and rested your hands on his chest, you felt him exhale unevenly. You gave him a warm smile as you lightly rubbed his chest.
“Maybe they just need more time to make peace with it. Maybe they just need to know you did everything you could to help their son.” You knew how he felt, there had been so many times where nothing you did was enough to help someone’s child, and you had to tell them that. But you knew he did his best, he always did. Though you weren't sure if he knew that.
“Yeah.. yeah, maybe.” You felt him slightly tense under your touch and he avoided your eyes. He slightly angled his head to look behind him, like he was getting ready to sneak his way away from you and get lost in the chaos of the ER. you would let him, in a minute.
“Michael.” Your voice was a warning, quiet, stern. He snapped his head in your direction and looked at you with concern and confusion. You almost mever called him that. Only sometimes, when you were annoyed with him. With that scolding tone of yours. He didn't like it much.
“I don't like that. Why’d you do that?” He tilted his head at you, and you had to hold back a smile at the way he looked at you.
“‘Cause, you’re being difficult. There’s bad days and there’s worse days. Today is a shitty day, and that’s fine. You're doing your best, don’t be so harsh on yourself.” You sighed, running your fingers through his beard and he almost instantly leaned into your touch.
“How come you didn't go into psychiatry?” He commented and you snorted, leaning your forehead into his chest. You felt a slight chuckle rumble in his chest, and with that your deed was done for now.
“Well, I did a minor in psychology in undergrad, did I ever tell you that?” You leaned back, a small smile on your lips, and he had the little wrinkles around his eyes that you found to be so cute.
“Once or twice.”
You shrugged playfully, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek, but he turned his head and caught your lips instead. You were definitely okay with that. A groan of annoyance rumbled in your chest when you felt your phone buzz, alerting you that it was time for your next appointment. You pulled back, much to your dismay and took a glance at your phone, you were definitely going to be late.
“I mean it Robby, I’ll know.” You shot him a playful warning look and he nodded, a tiny grin pulling at the corner of his lips. You leaned up, actually leaving a kiss to his cheek this time. “Love you.”
“Love you too hun.” He called after you as you disappeared behind the curtain. A long sigh left his lips as he ran a hand over his face. If he wasn't the attending he would go after you and would purposely get locked inside an exam room with you for a little while. But alas. He waited a minute, making sure it didn’t look too suspicious before he came out too, back to the madness he went.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Today was just the gift that kept on giving. You eventually came down for the walk of honor. You knew you wouldn’t really talk to Robby, but you wanted him to know you were there. You truly hated to see him like this. Hours on end only for the answer to have been what he knew from the beginning. It was hard to look at the brightside. And then you heard Dana got assaulted and you were absolutely freaking out. You hadn’t been able to come down until the end of your shift, when you were on your way to head home. Robby still had another hour left of his so you were just going to your apartment alone, he almost never got off on time, anyway.
You damn near ran off the elevator and a sense of relief washed over you when you saw Dana sitting at her desk. A long sigh left your lips as you approached her and you nearly gasped when you saw the bruising on her face.
“Dana.” You said quietly, your eyes big. She shook her head at you dismissively, but it was hard not to worry. “They told me a patient hit you?”
“Yeah. Don't worry, I don't have any fractures, just a little sore.” She half smiled at you, but the look on your face never changed, you frowned even deeper.
“It's unbelievable. With all the patient satisfaction bullshit Gloria shoves down our throats you’d think they would invest a little more in making sure the staff is protected. Are you sure you’re okay? It bruised a lot.” You leaned down to inspect her closer and she rolled her eyes at you, but you couldn’t help it.
“Yes I’m sure, Robby made me get a CT and made me take a break, I’m fine.” She waved you off and you nodded.
“Oh, speaking of that pain in my ass, where is he? I’ve been texting him since the walk but I haven’t heard from him.” You frowned softly, adjusting your bag over your shoulder. Dana gave you a look, one that you definitely did not like.
“Yeah, I wouldn’t wait on him too much. Just go home, okay? While you still can.” Now that worried you even more. You knew today had been rough but you didn’t think it had been that bad. It took a lot for Robby to lose it, though you were unsure what exactly happened if that was the case.
“Yeah, okay. I’m glad you’re okay. I was very worried.” You offered her a tiny smile, which she returned and you exchanged goodbyes for the night.
Dana’s words lingered in your mind, and you were definitely more concerned for Robby than you were earlier today. Usually he would text you back, even if it was an hour or two later, but it had been hours and nothing. With a sigh, you started to head for the exit, and as you walked you saw Robby walking out of one of the exam rooms. You debated whether to pretend you didn't see him and to just go home. But that really wasn't the type of person you were.
“Robby, hey.” You called out to him as quietly as you could as you walked up to him. He visibly tensed at the sight of you and he looked like a fucking mess. You narrowed your eyes, your lips pursing at him but you continued. “I uh.. I’m going home. I don’t know if.. If you wanted to come over when, well whenever you get out. I’m picking up food on the way so..”
He was silent for a while, too long for your liking and you were starting to feel a little tense as well. He clicked his tongue, scratching the back of his head like you had picked up he did when he was stressed. You probably should have listened to Dana.
“Yeah, uh, I don’t know. I don’t really know what time I’m getting off, and truly I think maybe I should go to my place tonight.” He said with exasperation, his tone harsh and laced with tension. It almost took you aback how he was talking to you.
You blinked at him, mouth slightly agape. It took you a couple seconds to process what he was saying. You counted to five in your head, took a deep breath in and just nodded. “Uhm, okay. Yeah, cool, I just wanted to make sure you were okay before I went home.”
“Yes, yes I’m okay, why does everyone keep fucking asking me that.” He raised his voice before quickly realizing what he did and his lips fell in a flat line. You stared at him in shock, eyes wide and lips slightly parted. It was almost like it dawned on him that you were the last person in this hospital he should be snapping at. And he did just that. He reached to grab your arm and you backed up.
“No, it’s fine. I got it. Sorry. I’m gonna go home now.” You forced a smile, you could tell Robby wanted to say something, he opened his mouth but you just shook your head at him. “It’s fine, you need space and I get that. Text me when you can talk to me like a fucking adult, yeah?”
You didn’t even give him a chance to reply, you were turning around and hurrying to the exit before he could get a word in. Was that the most mature response you could have given him? No, not really, but you didn't particularly enjoy being yelled at by your boyfriend in the middle of the ER. You knew something else must’ve happened to him, but you didn’t really want to find out when he was that upset. You hadn't seen Robby angry often, stressed? Sure, all the time. But he looked pissed and you didn’t like that whatsoever. He was always so calm, so patient and so collected, it was unsettling to see him so easily ticked off. You tried not to think about it too much, he knew where to find you if he wanted to talk, calmly.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Robby couldn’t stop thinking about you for the rest of the night. He felt horrible for yelling at you, when his problems were not your fault and all you wanted to do was be the loving girlfriend that you were. He always loved how attentive and caring you were, when you asked him about his day and when you would listen so attentively to the little he would tell you. You were the last person on this earth he should’ve snapped at today, and now he had to go home feeling guilty when all he wanted was your comfort. He debated about just going to his place and calling you tomorrow, maybe he would get you some flowers to apologize. But then thought that would be too long. It was so late, he definitely didn’t get off when he was supposed to, but maybe you’d still be awake. You usually waited up for him anyway.
Without much thought, he ended up at your apartment. He had a key to your place, he slept there most nights to be completely honest. He was rehearsing in his head the apology he would give you when the door got stuck.
“What the fuck..” he muttered to himself as he tried to force the door open, thinking maybe it got caught on the rug or something. But no, he looked down to find that the latch was on. You put the latch on. He took a deep breath and clicked his tongue, trying to look into the apartment to see if he could see inside. This was definitely going to be his last straw.
You weren’t asleep, it wasn’t quite midnight yet, but even if it was, you weren’t sure if you could get much sleep tonight. You heard the sound of your front door unlocking along with muffled shuffling. You sat up, confused. You suspiciously came out of your bedroom, only to find Robby’s awkwardly tall frame trying to reach inside to undo the latch. You almost wanted to laugh, you would have, if you hadn’t still been a bit upset from earlier.
“Really?” You called out to him, arms crossed over your chest as you padded along the wooden floors, the floorboards creaking under your bare feet. Robby looked to find you, in an oversized t-shirt and a pair of cozy pants. He always found it endearing how cozy and comfortable you looked outside of the hospital.
“You put the latch on? Really?” He huffed quietly, annoyed that he got stuck outside your apartment, he definitely was not amused by you trying not to laugh. You shrugged.
“You said you weren’t coming over. I put the latch on when you’re not here.” You said like it was obvious, taking your sweet time in walking to the door. It served him right. He would’ve rolled his eyes if he didn’t know you were right.
You stood for a few seconds and made direct eye contact with him as you shut the door in his face, just to make a point, before you unlatched the door and opened it. You took a step back, crossing your arms over your chest again as he quietly stepped into your apartment, closing the door behind him. He dropped his backpack like it had offended him, and he crowded your space. His nose brushed over yours, and you could hear his breath. You were holding yours.
“I’m sorry.” He offered so quietly, so much so that you wouldn’t have heard him if he hadn't been so close. You inhaled sharply, slightly nodding. You threw your arms over his shoulders and he breathed out a sigh of relief. “Yeah? You forgive me?”
You nodded again, as you leaned up to meet his lips. “Yes, now shut up.”
“Yes ma’am.” He chuckled softly, his large hand squeezed your waist as he leaned down to meet your eager mouth. He definitely said nothing after that. God, he had been wanting to do this all fucking day. It probably would have made his day a whole lot less shitty. But he was here now, and he had you all to himself.
You weren't sure when you ended up being carried to your bedroom, or when your back was laid flat on your soft covers. All you could focus on was his lips claiming yours, his lips trailing kisses all over your jaw, down to your neck, and anywhere he could find, really. He wasn't normally this messy, perhaps the stresses of today had finally worn on him.
“I shouldn’t have yelled at you,” he muttered against your skin as he half-assed shrugged his hoodie off his shoulders and tossed it somewhere he would be scrambling for in the morning. You hummed along, only half listening. “Let me make it up to you.”
Confused, you sat up on your elbows as he settled between your thighs. You watched him with big eyes and a heavy chest as he silently pulled your pj’s down your thighs. You held your breath as you instinctively closed your legs. He shot you a pointed look as he pried your thighs open, fingers digging into your plush thighs as he settled between them. You gasped softly at the delicious burn his beard left on your thighs. You loved that you could always feel the tingle of where his mouth had been, even the day after.
He took his time with you, he always did. You never understood how he could stay so calm, so patient. You had no patience, and you knew that he knew. Maybe he enjoyed seeing you desperate. His tongue lapped at your pussy with such calculated movements. From your hole to your clit, circling and sucking before diving back into your walls. Squirming, you were chasing his mouth with your hips, body overcome with pleasure as he worked your walls with his tongue. You felt like such a whore for asking like this, but you couldn’t help it.
“That feels so—ugh—feels so good—please.” You didn’t know what you were pleading for. Mercy? Sweet release? You didn’t know. Robby raised an amused eyebrow at you, wet lips curled up the slightest bit as he moved his tongue back to your clit and he slipped two fingers inside your cunt. He licked and sucked to match each delicious drag of his fingers. The sounds leaving him were just as filthy as the things he was doing to you, groaning and grunting.
It was no surprise that he had you shaking and sobbing, overcome with pleasure, eyes blurry with tears of pleasure, your release rapidly approaching. You latched on to his hair, tugging and pulling at the strands as your pathetic sounds filled the room. You chased his mouth, and he let you, always so amused by how quickly you would fall apart.
“That’s it, just breathe through it.” he hushed, his own breath heavy as he replaced his tongue with his thumb and he crooked his fingers just the right way, knowing each and every one of your tells, each twitch of your body, he had memorized all of it.
Your release was hard and sudden, your loud sounds were almost as overwhelming as the feeling of his fingers scissoring you wide open. Your head was thrown back, eyes rolled into the back of your head. He dug his fingers into your thigh, his tongue slipping into your hole when his fingers left you.
“Shit Robby.” You gasped, your thighs shaking as you weakly reached to grab his face. You ran your fingers along his face, threading through his beard and you silently ushered him up. He complied, in an instant settling between your open legs to find your mouth again. You could taste yourself on his lips, on his tongue, it was all so much for your clouded mind.
“You’re okay, just breathe for me.” He said against your lips, brushing your hair away from your face softly. You breathed out a laugh.
“You should yell at me more often,” you snorted, and Robby shot you a pointed look. “So you can make it up to me.”
“Yeah, well, we’re not done, so.” He pressed another kiss to your lips, leaving the lingering taste of yourself on your tongue before he flipped you over on your stomach. You bit your lip softly, pulling your t-shirt over your head and tossed it somewhere. You heard him shuffling behind you for a bit. You turned your head to look back at him, and with a smile he leaned over your back, leaving a kiss to your bare shoulder. “Hi sweetheart.”
“Hmm hi.” you hummed softly as you braced yourself with your arms in front of you. He pressed his lips to the back of your head, inhaling your sweet scent as he slowly sank into you.
You gasped, your eyes rolling back into your head he sank into you until his hips rutted against your ass. The side of your face was flat on the mattress when he sneaked his hand into your hair and held you there. His pace was slow at first, slow strokes that allowed you to revel in the feeling of his cock in and out of your walls. But as you both began to grow desperate, pathetic sounds leaving your lips and groans of pleasure leaving him, his pace picked up.
“Thought about this all day baby. With the fucking day I’ve had.” His words left him with a groan, and he gave you a particularly sharp thrust that had you sliding up the mattress. “Just wanted this. You're the only thing that isn’t wrong in my life.”
His raspy words in your ear made you moan, and you blindly reached behind you to touch him, any part of him. He leaned down, his chest flat against your back and his lips found yours, pulling you into a messy kiss.
“Mhm, should’ve called me down for a quickie then.” You teased him and he chuckled, his cheek pressed against your jaw, the new angle making him sit so deep you could feel him in your fucking guts. God, you didn’t fucking care that he was so much older than you, the way he fucked you, so passionately and so gently at the same time, you didnt care for anyone younger.
“I don't care for quickies.” he replied with an edge to his voice, despite the sass of your mouth, he could feel the way you squeezed the life out of him everytime he hit that perfect spot, getting you closer and closer to your release.
“You’re such an old man.” you managed to reply, but your witty remarks quickly left you when he slipped his free hand to find your swollen clit, which made you painfully aware of how close you were. But Robby could tell.
“Uh-huh, and this old man is gonna make you come,” There was a bit of amusement in his voice at the way your body twitched under him and the way your face twisted with pleasure. You were so close. “Yeah, thought so.”
“Fuck, I’m gonna come.” you choked out, followed by a silent sob when he hit that one spot and you saw white. You were gasping for air as your whole body shuddered. Robby shushed you softly, slowly fucking you through your orgasm. He left wet kisses along your jaw as he whispered sweet words in your ear.
“Atta girl, you did so good.” He hummed as he left a kiss to the side of your head as you dropped your face flat on your blankets, your breath heavy as your body twitched in aftershock. You gasped softly when he slipped out of you, leaving you empty. You wanted to whine, but he gently grabbed your arm and flipped you on your back, and he settled between your legs with ease.
“Alright, lemme look at you. Just want to see how pretty you look.” He ran his fingers over your face, brushing your hair away from your forehead. It was always such a intoxicating feeling to have him on top of you, his pretty brown eyes watching your every move, his chain a reminder that you were about to get fucked (again). You fucking loved this feeling. You couldn’t even make a sound when he slid into you again, your eyes simply fluttering shut and your body twitching with pleasure.
“O-oh my god—!” The way you sounded so utterly fucked out, cock-drunk, it made him feel lightheaded as he fucked into you. He felt a little bad, with how exhausted you both always were, you never fucked this long, or so intensely. So he knew you were going to be so sore for your morning shift tomorrow. But fuck, with the way you squeezed your eyes shut, lips parted, he didn’t want to stop until you were both spent with exhaustion because you just felt so fucking tight and so goddamn heavenly.
“Mhmm I know, I know hun. Feels good hm?” He panted above you, his chain dangling above your face like a mockery of your current position with each thrust he gave you. You nodded harshly, a string of uh-uh-uh’s leaving your pathetic mouth as your nails dragged down his back.
“Feels so good baby.” You squeezed your eyes shut, his voice shooting straight to your pulsing walls, making you whimper.
He gritted his teeth as he felt your walls squeeze the life out of him, a grunt leaving his chest as he reached for your hand, lacing his fingers with yours. You squeezed his hand so tight as he pinned your hand above your head, and he planted his other arm beside your head, attempting to ground himself.
“There you go sweetheart. That’s it.” His raspy voice grounded you as you spasmed around his cock for a second time. Your sounds were so pathetic, the way you sobbed his name was enough to make him completely lose the very little self-control he was holding on to. He fucked you through your orgasm, gave you two, three more sharp thrusts before he fell into his own release, a breathy fuck falling from his lips
Sounds of exhaustion filled the room, drowning out the still on TV you had in the background, your show being completely forgotten the second Robby was at your door. A thin layer of sweat covered his skin as he ran a hand through his hair. Your eyes were screwed shut, your forearm thrown over your face as your racing heart matched your shuddering breath. He sneaked under your arm and left a kiss to the side of your forehead. You giggled a bit and opened your eyes to find his soft brown eyes staring back, there was a smile there, too.
“You want pizza? I bought some earlier from the place you like.” You spoke eventually, your chest now rising and falling in a steady rhythm as you rested your head on Robby’s arm. He turned his head to look at you and smiled in that way that made the corners of his eyes wrinkle a bit.
“Yeah, okay. I’ll take some.”
Much to the protest of your legs, you threw yourself on your feet, ignoring the way Robby was chuckling at your struggle. You managed to find a t-shirt, you didn’t know whose it was, probably Robby’s but it was yours now. After making a stop to the bathroom, you were in the kitchen for a bit. Getting fucked made you hungry, so you heated up some pizza for yourself.
“Here’s your delivery, and I do require a tip.” You announced as you came back into your bedroom. Robby looked up from his phone, and he had managed to find his black framed glasses that you loved to tease him about. And a playful smirk formed on your lips. “I definitely want a tip.”
He looked at you confused for a few seconds then he realized and he blew out a laugh, shaking his head with disappointment. “You know, after a certain age one just gets really tired, can’t keep up with people your age. Not that I would know about that.”
You snorted as you flopped down on your bed, handing him his pizza and a can of coke because that was all you had in your fridge. “It’s okay, you’re my favorite old man.”
You leaned up to kiss his cheek, bumping his glasses with your nose. He gave you a look out of the corner of his eye that was anything but amused. Which made you laugh even more as you took a bite out of your pizza.
“I hope I’m your only old man.” He chuckled, squinting his eyes the slightest bit as he typed a text on his phone. God he wished he could turn this fucking thing off. He couldn't even be out of the hospital for an hour before he got bombarded with messages. He caught the way you shot him a glare and he gave you a quick ‘sorry’ before he set his phone down.
“I dunno, the chief of peds is quite the catch.” You couldn’t help but snort at the look he gave you, and you just shot him a smile. “Jokes. Totally joking babe.”
You ate in silence for a while, you kew you had to be up again at six in the fucking morning, but you just wanted to enjoy having him all to yourself for just a little longer. There was still a lingering thought in your mind, you’ve had it all night. It never left your mind. Robby was watching whatever you decided to play on the TV when you turned to look at him.
“Robby,” you said softly, he hummed as he turned his head to look at you. “Do you want to talk about today? It's okay if you don’t… I just think you should talk to someone, and I want to listen.”
You saw the hesitation in his warm eyes, the tension and dread from such a shitty day coming back to him. His lips fell in a flat line, and his jaw locked the slightest bit. You offered him a soft smile as you sat closer to him, leaning your head on his shoulder with a soft shake of your head.
“Not tonight, okay? We can talk about it tomorrow.” He sighed out, leaning to leave a kiss to the side of your head. And you nodded with a reassuring smile.
You didn’t know how he was prior to the pandemic, maybe he was worse, or maybe he had gotten better since. But you didn’t mind putting in a little work to break down his walls and help him open. You would do anything, and you were okay with waiting.
I'd like to think that Logan is the best weather detector. His bones are bow metal he just feels when it's about to rain or snow, whenever the fronts change.
“It’s gonna rain.”
“What?” you ask, glancing up from your phone where you’ve been googling the best places to grab dinner. Logan stares at the sky, nostrils flaring just a bit, scenting the air like he’s an animal.
It’s really cute. You have to resist the urge to boop his nose. You don’t imagine he’d be too thrilled at that, though, so you remain strong.
“I can tell,” he mutters. Looking up, the sky seems bright and clear.
“Are you sure?”
“Never wrong about this stuff, bub. I can feel it in my bones.”
He says it with such seriousness that you can’t help but laugh. He turns to you and cocks an eyebrow, and you attempt to swallow your reaction. God, he’s so sexy, you don’t know how you can stand it.
“Okay, well, weather-boy, I’m not too worried. You still wanna go out and eat or what?”
“Sure,” he says in that slightly smug manner where he knows he’ll win out in the end.
Two and a half hours later, well-fed and slightly wine drunk, you’re standing in the doorway of the restaurant, watching the downpour as you unsuccessfully try to hail a taxi.
“Don’t say a word, Howlett,” you harrumph, but his self-satisfied grin is worth a thousand of them. God, it makes you want to slap it off his face. You never would, of course… that is unless he asked you to very nicely.
“Doesn’t look like any of those cabs are stopping,” he remarks, with an exaggerated sigh designed to annoy you. It’s no use. Looks like they’re all taken up by people who also fell foul of the weather… but they didn’t have their own personal forecast machine to warn them against being outside in the first place.
You shiver. You wish you’d taken a coat. You feel really damn stupid right now, and it makes you ache a bit that Logan has to witness it.
Suddenly you’re aware of a heavy warmth around your shoulders. You look up to where Logan’s taken off his leather jacket and wrapped it around you; it smells of cigar smoke and pine, and you bury yourself into it, enjoying the feeling of being totally engulfed in him.
“Thanks,” you mutter shyly. The smile he gives you this time is sincere and affectionate.
“C’mon, we’ll walk. It’s not that far back.”
“But you’ll get wet…!” you protest, feebly. Logan turns back to you and you take him in properly, all 6’2” of him in his jeans and far too tight white t-shirt. Suddenly the image of him absolutely drenched appears in your mind like it was snipped from your dirtiest dream. The way the cotton would cling to his chest, leaving nothing to the imagination…
“Oh no, I’m sure you’d hate that,” he says with a smirk, as if he’s read your thoughts. He holds out a hand to you and you take it eagerly, giggling as he drags you into the rain.
➳❥ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 --- Logan Howlett x F!Reader ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 --- Fluff ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐌 --- X Men ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 --- None! ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 --- Unable to sleep, you seek comfort in Logan’s bed. He welcomes you warmly, and his steady presence and gentle conversation help you relax, allowing you to finally drift off to sleep.
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 --- 772
THE MOONLIGHT FILTERED THROUGH THE CURTAINS, CASTING A GENTLE GLOW ACROSS THE ROOM. The clock on the nightstand ticked softly, each second stretching into eternity as you lay in bed, restless and wide awake. No matter how many times you shifted or how many deep breaths you took, sleep eluded you. Frustration mingled with the quiet night, making the shadows on the walls seem even darker.
Finally, you couldn’t stand it any longer. You slipped out of bed with deliberate care, not wanting to disturb the quiet of the house. The hallway was dimly lit, and you moved quietly towards Logan’s room. As you reached his door, you hesitated, your hand hovering over the knob. The idea of waking him up felt like an intrusion, but your need for comfort was stronger.
Taking a deep breath, you knocked gently before pushing the door open just enough to peek inside. Logan’s room was sparsely decorated, but it exuded a comforting, lived-in warmth. His silhouette was barely visible under the covers, his breathing slow and even.
“Logan,” you whispered, trying to sound calm despite the knot of anxiety in your chest. You took a tentative step closer and gently shook his shoulder. He stirred, groaning softly, before his eyes opened and found yours. He blinked sleepily, his gaze softening with recognition.
“You okay?” he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep.
“I... I can’t sleep,” you admitted, your voice trembling slightly. “I’ve been tossing and turning for hours. I just... I didn’t know where else to go.”
Logan’s expression shifted from groggy concern to understanding. Without a word, he shifted to one side, making space in the bed beside him. “Come here,” he said, his voice low and reassuring. You didn’t need any further invitation. You slipped into the bed, the cool sheets giving way to the reassuring warmth of his body.
As you settled next to him, Logan’s arm instinctively wrapped around you, pulling you closer. You buried your face into his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing. The warmth of his body and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat had a calming effect, slowly erasing the restless tension that had kept you awake.
“Sorry for bothering you,” you murmured, your voice barely audible.
“Don’t be,” Logan said, his tone gentle but firm. “If you need me, I’m here. No apologies necessary.”
You let out a soft sigh, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. “I just... I couldn’t shake this feeling of restlessness. I didn’t want to be alone.”
Logan’s fingers gently stroked your back, his touch soothing and steady. “It’s alright. You’re not alone now,” he said, his voice a low murmur. “What’s on your mind?”
You took a moment to gather your thoughts, finding comfort in the steady presence beside you. “It’s nothing specific, really. Just one of those nights where everything seems to spiral out of control. And then I start thinking about everything I have to do, and it just... snowballs.”
Logan nodded, his hand continuing its gentle rhythm on your back. “I get it. Sometimes the quiet of the night makes everything seem bigger than it is. But you’re here with me now. Let’s just focus on that.
You nodded against his chest, feeling the tension slowly drain from your body. The room was filled with a peaceful silence, punctuated only by the soft sounds of your breathing and the occasional creak of the bed. Logan’s presence was a steady anchor, his warmth enveloping you like a cocoon.
As minutes passed, you found your thoughts slowing down, your mind growing quieter with each passing second. Logan’s gentle touch and the rhythmic beating of his heart created a sense of calm that you had been craving all night.
“Logan?” you whispered, your voice barely a murmur.
“Yeah?” he replied, his tone soft and attentive.
“Thank you. For being here. I really needed this.”
He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, his embrace tightening slightly. “Anytime. You don’t have to thank me. I’m glad I could help.”
The comfort of his words, coupled with the soothing rhythm of his breathing, lulled you towards sleep. You felt your eyes growing heavy, the exhaustion of the sleepless night finally catching up with you. Logan’s steady presence was a constant reassurance, a promise of safety and companionship.
As sleep began to claim you, you could hear Logan’s voice, soft and soothing. “Get some rest. I’ve got you.”
And with those comforting words echoing in your mind, you finally surrendered to the embrace of sleep, finding peace in the warmth and safety of Logan’s arms.
Summary:You are ready for a cozy evening in front of the TV - until Logan discovers something about you.
Warnings: breeding kink (this means unprotected p in v sex) | stereotypical gender roles but in a sexy kind of way | mention of food | use of body weight to restrain someone | rough sex | hair pulling | biting | very slight choking | creampie | a little bit of cum play
Notes: So, I was (re)watching all the X-Men movies in a very confusing chronological order and I couldn’t help but notice how many times people call Wolverine an animal. Paired with his apparently great sense of smell it made me want to write a breeding kink story because Wolverine deserves to be a dad and live a happy life. Big thanks, as ever, go to Dani @alexturner who forced me to do better with this than I had done.
***
The heat of the day is coating your neck in a sweaty sheen, a gust of warm evening air sends a cooling sensation down your spine. You straighten your back and stretch, relieving some of the tension that has been building while you were tidying up the cushions on the couch. The Canadian summer evening is still too warm for manual labor, but you want the house to look pretty for Logan.
🐾 Cat Scratches - [James “Logan” Howlett x Reader]
WARNINGS: lots of fluff, brief mention of neck kisses, some suggestive comments but nothing past PG
CHARACTERS: James “Logan” Howlett (Wolverine, MARVEL/X-MEN)
🐾 .*.. 🕯️
Logan laid comfortably on your stomach, his arms wrapped around your lower back and hips as he buried his face into your abdomen, the bare skin of your tummy visible just slightly underneath your sweater.
Lazily scrolling through your phone, splayed out across his bed with him on top of you, your fingers trailed over his upper shoulders, scratching the fabric of his white compression shirt, rubbing his sore muscles from a long day of training and battle practice.
As your fingers trailed upwards mindlessly on his back, your manicured nails finally reached the nape of his neck, teasing the edge of his hairline.
Scrolling down further through your instagram, you let out a soft sigh of content as your fingers finally buried into the hair on the back of his head, eliciting a low rumble from the back of his throat.
You perked up at this, glancing past the dimmed screen of your device, an eyebrow quirked upwards at his reaction.
“You alright, Lo?”
You muttered out, a small, curious smile tugging at your glossy lips, damp from your teeth gently biting at them out of unconscious habit.
“Mmmh,”
He responded in a low hum, leaning into your fingers as you smiled, a small, amused chuckle leaving your lips at his fingers that slid lower on your back, cupping the backs of your thighs with a slightly possessive grip.
You felt a soft, warm press of his chapped lips against your stomach, just above your panty line, and a small laugh left your lips as he buried his nose further into you, inhaling without hesitation. In response, your legs opened slightly underneath him, wrapping them around his broad midsection with a light squeeze.
Preferring the man in front of you opposed to the celebrities on your phone, you dropped it at your side, letting it become lost in the fluffy, unkept sheets next to your form as both your hands wrapped around his head, burying your fingers into his scalp.
A low, animalistic-like growl left his lips as you scratched through his hair, meeting the place behind his ears, where you knew he was most sensitive.
Tracing over the area where his jaw connected to his ear and neck, you let out a low hum in response, tilting your head propped up on one of his pillows to the side, your eyebrows knitting together lightly in curiosity at his pleasant reactions.
“Feels good, bub. Right- mmh. There.”
Your eyes narrowed at his borderline inappropriate hum, and you nodded, wordlessly continuing to scrape through his fluffy, unkept hair.
“I didn’t take you for a cat, Logan,” You teased quietly, a small vibration leaving your own form, similar to that of the buzz of an old stereo.
“Don’t mock me, sweetheart. Can’t help it,”
He shot back, his furry eyebrows knitting together as he finally shifted, pulling himself up further, allowing his face to move from your stomach to your collarbone, trying desperately not to go full deadweight on you, knowing he’d crush your frail form.
“Plus, ever since you got yer nails done-”
He didn’t finish his sentence as you raked through his head of hair once more, pushing his face into the warm skin of your exposed neck, muffling any protest from him.
“Stop talking, James. Sleep.”
You effectively hushed him, a small smile pulling at your face as he grumbled out something along the lines of ‘mm. Whatever,’ and ‘fine.’
You felt him pepper a few hot, open-mouthed kisses along your neck, his teeth teasingly biting down on your exposed shoulder, before lapping at the new mark with his tongue, admiring his work with your taste.
“G’night, bub.”
You smiled at his subtle acceptance to your demand, your fingers frozen in his fluffy hair and partially in his long side shaves, nodding.
more 18+ LOGAN HOWLETT thoughts bc clearly im a big fat fucking liar
fem!reader, 583 words
Early morning sex is one of Logan’s favourites. There’s no rush, no haste – nothing. The rest of the world quiet, as if it's only the two of you up.
He’d often be cuddling into you from behind, arm like a dead, sleeping weight around your middle. His hand in a protective hold under one of your tits, keeping you there with your back to his burly chest. It’s rather comfortable.
And as his eyes begin to open, adjusting to the dawn sky through the gap of the curtain, he notices something between his legs causing him anguish. Thick, naked cock rock hard against the cheek of your ass, the little sleeping, unknowing motions of you only furthering that agony.
He nuzzles his face into you from behind, chin hooking on the nape of your neck as he presses soft, light kisses into your cheek – trying to ease you awake. And when you inhale, the sound prolonged and sleepy, he only tempts you further: running the scruff of his beard over your bare shoulder, lips pressing faintly into the side of your throat.
“Got something I want you to take care of, sugar,” he whispers, voice low and gruff beside your ear. His hand on your tit beginning it’s gentle kneading, again, like he was trying to coax you. Pushing it even further by saying your name in that deep, manly way he often does.
You nestle your head back into him, humming in a way as if to show your intrigue. Your half-asleep self silently asking him to elaborate. And when he takes the hint, his grasp around your breast loosens, instead moving down to your stomach – large fingers brushing over your warm, bare skin.
The trail continues, his touch moving down to between your thighs, the thickness of his wrist acting like a wedge betwixt your legs. His middle finger instinctively extends downwards, the tip of it running between the lips of your pussy, the action like a gentle, momentary warm up.
And so, he leaves that spot just below your clit, reaching his hand behind you —to the front of him— and to his cock. Fingers wrapping around his base, fist faintly pumping over his dick as if to ready himself – simultaneously guiding his head towards you from behind.
He teases you briefly with the tip as he lines up, swirling and circling himself around your entrance before sinking into you. The remnants of last night’s dirty affairs acting like a natural lubricant.
He stills, using his cock like a plug as if to allow you a moment to adjust – accommodate him once again. But it was like muscle memory, the walls of your pussy stretching and wrapping around him, drawing more of him in.
“Fuck,” he groans, the sound cutting his curse short. He wraps his arm back around your middle, hand finding itself tucked under your tit –like his prior sleeping position– using your body for stability as he begins to slowly rock into you.
Your eyes close as you melt into him, posture softening against his chest, grip loosening around his thick wrist. He inadvertently mirrors you, the tenseness in his shoulders dissipating as he rests his head back on the pillow – relaxing into you the way you do him.
Like it all required no effort. The unrushed, irregular wind of his hips into you from behind letting you both feel just enough, each of you still far too sleepy for it to be anything more than this.
I rewatched DOFP for him last night. massive mistake. cried myself to sleep
✑ tags: f!rich!ceo!reader, bodyguard!sukuna, teasing, begging, light struggle for control, fem-dom, semi public
Scanning Sukuna, scowling while holding two bundles of your bags. Over the past two weeks, he had become too comfortable giving you attitude. Glancing over at the lingerie shop, and musing,
"You could carry another bag, can't you?" He glances over, scanning the scantly dressed mannequins. In see-through lace and flowy skirts. All of which he is aching to rip off of you.
Snapping, "I'm paid to guard, not carry all your shit. But fuck it, what's one more bag?" Grinning, and heading into the large store with Sukuna in tow. Sukuna keeps his stride timed with yours.
Staying behind, scanning the area, and ogling your ass. While the lingering memory of your panties barely holding your pussy makes his cock throb. And unlike before, he can't bring his mind out of the gutter.
Not with the suggestive clothing you're looking through surrounding him. Nor could he stuff his hands into his pants to hide his growing boner. Straining against his pants, smearing pre-cum.
Taking your time shifting through various lingerie. Glancing down at Sukuna's bulge, just aching to be touched. The smugness had slipped from his face. Which is void of expression.
You would have to take it up another notch. With your items in hand, you head towards the back, suggesting to Sukuna, "Let's go to the dressing room. Since you adore being honest, you can tell me how I look in them." The woman standing at the boost holds her hand up, pointing at Sukuna.
She flatly states, "He can't go back there." Shifting your clothes into one hand, pulling out two hundred, and holding it out to her. While explaining,
"He's my bodyguard, supposed to follow me everywhere. I hope you understand." Her lips tug into a smile, and her eyes brighten at the sight of cash. Which she slips into her pocket, as she scans Sukuna behind her.
Her gaze gets stuck on Sukuna's hard cock. "Delicious isn't he? I have ten items." She grabs the number, handing it to you. For you to take before walking into the biggest changing room with Sukuna in tow. Who quickly sets the bags down and sits on the bench at the far side of the room.
Giving himself the best view of you changing in front of the mirror. Sukuna's legs spread perfectly for you to slip in between. The outline of his cock through his dark slacks.
His white partly buttoned-up shirt shows his inked-up chest. While his rolled-up sleeves show tattooed forearms. As it hugs his thick upper arms. Sukuna looked too damn good in a formal bodyguard suit.
His gaze slips down your body, while he urges you, "Give me a show, pretty mama." The imprint of his bulge is mouthwatering. Not bothering to look away, you push your skirt down. Stepping out of it, and turning around, pulling your shirt off carefully.
Setting them both on the bench, which wraps around and ends close to the mirror. Unclasping your bra, slipping it off before turning around. Sukuna is palming himself through his pants.
Pressing your heel against his clothed cock. He grabs your ankle but doesn't push you away. While you grab his soft hair, yanking his head back. Your heels have you closer to his height. Which is giving you a wonderful height advantage over Sukuna while he sat down.
Telling him, "You've been forgetting who's in charge here. Now I don't mind the occasional attitude or how you've been shamelessly undressing me." Sliding the tip of your long nail down his neck. Watching his breath hitch with a smirk, you declare,
"If you want to bust a nut inside my pussy, you're going to beg for it. Otherwise, you can just watch me try these on. Then we can go out to have lunch while your balls turn blue." You can see the conflict in his eyes. As his pride and lust fight each other till the latter wins.
His voice is husky as he lowly groans, “Ride my cock while you're in the red one, need to feel your fat, wet pussy gripping my cock. Come on mama, help me out.”
[summary] wrio missed his wife, and she missed him just as much. two simps in love.
[cws] fluff. fem reader -> wriothesley’s wife. reader is a mondstadt native. kissing.
Wriothesley’s cup of tea pauses halfway to his mouth as there’s a knock at his office door. His fingers tighten unconsciously around the handle, that incessant throbbing at his temples that had been dying out suddenly tapping into its nth life.
He contemplates ignoring it; pretending he didn’t hear it and indulging in his fresh brew, but he’s never been one to shirk off his work, no matter how inconsequential the task.
He sets the cup down rougher than necessary, and the legs of his chair scrape loudly against the floor as he pushes it back from his desk and stands to his feet. Someone better be dead or on the verge.
It was an unspoken rule that Wriothesley wasn’t to be bothered at this time -a quarter after five until six- because it was official tea time, a very, very important time in his day that let the inhabitants in Meropide see his most agreeable side… although he had heard talk from a few gossipy guards and prisoners that his ‘pissy attitude’ this past month had nothing to do with his interrupted tea times, but rather that his wife had gone back to Mondstadt to visit family.
“You know how he gets when he doesn’t see her after a while—downright scary. I’ve never seen a man look so enraged and distraught at the same time.”
“He put me on pipe restoration duty —don’t laugh, it isn’t funny! Worst job in the whole place, I swear— for the next six months all because my wife dropped by with a bento on my break. Apparently no one can be happy when his missus is away.”
“I caught him staring at her picture the other day, y’know the one he keeps in that chain around his neck, and sighing like some schoolgirl. I nearly thought my daughter had somehow gotten herself arrested and thrown down here when I heard all those lovesick sighs.”
It was all hearsay and speculation, of course. Wriothesley could manage just fine with you away - he was a grown man, a weathered man, a man who could function fully without the company of his wife.
That’s right, he thinks to himself. He’s been doing just fine in your absence, a bit quicker to anger than usual, but with the looming threat of being turned into a big, sopping puddle right below his feet, could you really blame him?
The door is wrenched open, strands of black and gray flying back from where they rested against his forehead due to the strong gust of wind he created.
“What is it now?” He nearly hisses out, but he manages to get a reign on it last minute, the words coming out a bit strained instead. He eyes the guard standing in front of him, their eyes flitting between the crease between his brows and the floor. “Spit it out before I—”
He stops abruptly when he hears a voice that he knows intimately well, and had he possessed any shame when it came publicly displaying the love he harbored for you, he would have been a touch embarrassed at the speed of which his frown smoothed out and the throbbing in his head disappeared, a sparkle in his eyes as his shoulders lose a bit of their tension.
“Oh? He has? Thank you for telling me, Sigewinne. I’ll get right on that.” You come rounding the corner with the small doctor at your side, a knapsack in your hands, and had Wriothesley been any less sane, he would have swore that he could feel the rays of the sunshine beaming down on his skin and fresh air filtering into his lungs when you turned your gaze to him, scornful as it was.
You’re fitted in a dress that’s customary for the women in your homeland to wear, and flowers are weaved into your hair, and the ring on your finger seems to shine a bit brighter.
“Wriothesley.” You march up to him, eyebrows knitted together, and push your finger against his chest. “What is this I hear about you acting like a tyrant?”
“You look beautiful.” He breathes out.
“And going to the Pankration ring? You know those poor people don’t stand a chance against you. That’s just bullying.”
“Let me take your bag, it looks heavy.”
“And you haven’t been eating right, either! Look at your face — you’ve lost weight!” He transfers the bag from your hands to his, and when his fingers brush against yours, he finally lets a smile bloom on his face, being met with a huff. “Don’t smile at me. I’m mad at you.”
“Can’t help it, happy to see you.” You falter a bit, corners of your lips twitching, but you hold strong, choosing to save face in front of the onlookers—always put up a good fight, especially when others are looking, is what he had told you once upon a time. “I’ve missed you so much.” It comes out in a low murmur, eyes locked onto yours and refusing to stray, even when you decide that his gaze is a bit too heavy for the setting and avert your own.
“I-well-you…just get inside your office.”
He’s nice enough to hold back a chuckle, instead stepping to the side so that you can shuffle past him and inside. Before he shuts the door, his gaze turns icy and his smile thins out as he lets his eyes sweep over everyone present. A resounding groan is heard, the unspoken promise loud and clear, and then he’s pushing the door shut and turning on his heel.
You’re on him in a second, arms wrapped around his waist as you bury your face into his chest. He returns the hug just as quick, thick, burly arms circling around your shoulders as his head dips down so he can stuff his nose into your hair and breathe your scent in.
Your voice comes out muffled as you try to speak, and he loosens his hold on you a bit, allowing you to pop your head up so you can look up at him. There’s a halfhearted pout on your lips, and his response is a reflex as he leans down to give you a peck once, twice, three times before moving on to place one on the tip of your nose.
“You were supposed to let me scold you out there, birdie. Now everyone’s gonna know that I let you off easy.”
“Let me off easy? I’d say this is the meanest you’ve ever been to me,” he gives an exaggerated expression of hurt. “You haven’t even told me you missed me, or that you’re happy to see me, or that you’ll never leave again because you couldn’t stand being away from me.”
“You’re so dramatic.” You smile despite yourself, and he kisses you again, scarred hands moving to cradle your cheeks. You part with a gasp for air, and its his turn to smile when you stretch up to reconnect your lips, the lack of air not deterring you in the slightest.
“Breathe, sweetheart…” He rasps against your lips, and you suck in a breath, eyes slowly blinking as you tug at the material of his shirt. There’s a rush of emotions that washes over him at the unspoken confirmation that you missed him just as much as he had missed you, and he lets his hands wander down to settle on your waist, fingers flexing as they squeeze at the flesh there through the material of your dress.
“Well, well, well,” he starts, and you blink out of your stupor to don a guilty expression. “Looks like you haven’t been eating right, either, hypocrite.” He lightly pinches at your side, and you squeal out a laugh as you lightly bat at his hand.
“Have I told you that I missed you, and that I’m sooo happy to see you, and that I’ll never, ever leave again because I can’t stand being away from you?” You flutter your lashes up at him, direct that heart-stopping smile up at him, and for a split second he thinks that the primordial sea has broken the seal and reduced him to nothing but a puddle at your feet.
“Careful now, words like that are liable to kill a man, and this place isn’t fitting for a sweet girl like you.”
“Oh? Then maybe I should leave earlier than I intended t—” He quiets you with a kiss, and you laugh into it, earning a gentle nip on your bottom lip. Your teasing smile settles into something sweeter, tender, vulnerable, and it mirrors him perfectly.
Summary: “Simply put, the Duke needs to have sexual intercourse to relieve his tension. After watching the two of you and seeing you interact on both physical and intellectual levels, I determined that you would be ideal partners for each other. So, I invited the both of you to partake in an aphrodisiac made from the herbs you gathered for me.”
In which a simple tea time turns heated, and you get caught up in the consequence of Wriothesley not listening to his doctor.
Content: Smut, Consensual Sex, Oral Sex, Aphrodisiacs, fem!reader
Word Count: 7.9k
Sigewinne is evil.
You would have never suspected that such a tiny, cute body could contain so much malevolence. (Although, Sigewinne would personally argue that you’re confused, and that the word you’re looking for is actually benevolence. But, you digress.)
It all starts a few weeks into your employment at the Fortress of Meropide.
You’d spotted a job listing for a “personal assistant” in passing one day, and had immediately become interested thanks to the very generous salary listed on the paper. Seeing the job was located in Fontaine’s unofficial prison had, of course, caused you to have some second thoughts about applying, but at the end of the day, money is money.
Which is how you’d found yourself down on the ocean floor, waiting with a few other candidates outside the Duke’s office.
You’d be lying if you said that you weren’t nervous—waiting there to meet the head honcho of the prison. That when he stepped out to call you inside for your interview—all tall and beefy and scarred—your heart didn’t nervously flutter inside your chest.
…but to your surprise, he’s actually much softer than he appears.
“So,” he says, sitting down across from you at his desk. He folds his arms and smiles at you. “Why should I hire you? ”
Having been through this process before, you had immediately rattled off your qualifications and experiences. A few of which Wriothesley had proceeded to comment on and inquire about further. But it wasn’t until he asked—
“What benefit will I receive from picking you specifically?”
And you’d responded with—
“Errand girl.”
“What?”
“I can run errands for you. I’m sure the guards can be slow, going back and forth. But if you’re my direct employer, I can do whatever you want. Drop documents off, check in on things…pick up more tea.”
—that Wriothesley finally makes up his mind.
“Hmm. Very convincing.”
The next day, you receive a letter with the terms of your employment, and your official start date.
So, since then, you’ve been working for Wriothesley. Which is actually kind of…nice.
Your job mostly consists of going back and forth between the prison and the surface, so that Wriothesley can stay in the Fortress and better monitor his domain. The autonomy the job grants you is very rewarding, and in the same breath, Wriothesley also feels rewarded by how you take care of things without him needing to ask more than once.
Safe to say, the two of you get along.
…which Sigewinne notices.
You, of course, meet Sigewinne on your first day. Wriothesley makes a point of introducing you and showing you where the nurse’s office is located, in case you get hurt, or need to drop something off.
The human-like melusine enthusiastically welcomes you, and, at first, you see her as…someone sweet, and caring. A treasure of the prison.
However, over time, your opinion of her slowly starts to change.
Because she keeps looking at you. Specifically, whenever you’re standing next to Wriothesley.
“Why is she doing that?” you ask him one day, nudging him gently with your elbow. He immediately looks up from his meal, over to where Sigewinne is waiting in the lunch line, her pink eyes boring into you.
“She’s probably just double checking that you’re healthy,” Wriothesley responds, paying her no mind. “I often catch her staring at me, too. You must be growing on her.”
Despite his reassuring words, you can’t help but feel a little…put off…by the look in her eyes. Like she’s plotting something.
The second weird thing you notice is when you walk into the infirmary to drop off some herbs she’d asked for, and find her drawing. At first, you assume she’s doodling, since she seems kid-like a lot of the time.
But instead, when you lean over her shoulder and look, you see that she’s writing words. A big, black “DO NOT DISTURB”...with pink hearts and a few flowers drawn around it.
“What’s that for?” you ask her, forcing a smile.
“Oh! It’s just for a project I’m working on,” she responds, swiveling in her chair to face you. She happily kicks her feet, her eyes darting to the herbs you’re carrying with you.
“Ah, are those what I asked for? Thank you!”
You hand her the small bundle of dried flowers and grasses, watching as she immediately turns and places them on her desk next to some string, and cheesecloth.
“You’re welcome,” you respond, taking a small step backwards. “If that’s all, I’ll keep working on the rest of the tasks on my list—”
“Wait,” she says, grabbing your wrist. You instantly freeze, your eyes going wide as you turn back to face her. There’s a serious look on her face.
“How do you feel about Wriothesley?”
Her question makes your heart skip—heat rising on your skin.
“What?”
She doesn’t bother elaborating or giving you context, just waits for you to respond. You cough a little, feeling awkward, and wondering what kind of answer she’s looking for.
“Well…I mean. I think he’s a good boss. He’s friendly, and devoted to his job. He runs the prison well.”
Sigewinne nods, but doesn’t comment. Just keeps…staring.
Feeling pressured, you force yourself to think of more to say.
“Um…he’s deserving of his title and the respect he garners. I…enjoy speaking with him? Like when he invites me to partake in tea breaks. I dunno…he just kinda reminds me of a big, fluffy puppy. He looks scary but he’s actually pretty…cute, y’know?”
Finally, Sigewinne smiles. She takes your hand in her tiny ones, giving it a squeeze.
“Thank you for answering my question. You can go now.”
You blink at her dumbly, but nonetheless excuse yourself from the room.
Two days later, Wriothesley invites you to his office for tea. And to your surprise, when you walk in, you find Sigewinne waiting there as well.
“Thank you for coming!” she says as you enter the room. You flash her a smile, taking a seat in one of the open chairs around the table.
“Of course!”
“Sigewinne has a tea she wants us both to try,” Wriothesley explains, a fond look in his eyes as he watches the resident nurse flit around—pouring hot water into the teacups that have been set out.
You nod.
“I see.”
“Although, I don’t know why you won’t just steep the tea in the pot,” Wriothesley complains to her, just as Sigewinne places individual tea bags in each cup. “Are we not all being served the same tea?”
She cutely huffs.
“For your information, no we are not. Your and Y/N’s tea is unique.”
“Oh?” Wriothesley leans forward to look into the teacups as the colors from the herbs begin to bleed into the water. “What’s so unique about it?”
“You’ll see,” she responds with a playful look, one that causes Wriothesley to amusedly raise his eyebrows. However, he doesn’t say anything more—simply waiting for the tea to appropriately steep.
“...are you using the herbs I brought you?”
You can’t help but notice the smell wafting from the cup in front of you is a little familiar. Sigewinne nods.
“Wow! I’m surprised you noticed.”
“Ah, so this must be the reason you wanted me to lend you Y/N for a task the other day,” Wriothesley chimes in, his icy blue eyes once again shifting to Sigewinne.
“Do I get to know what herbs you requested Y/N to bring you, exactly?”
The resident nurse shakes her head, quietly laughing when Wriothesley sighs and deflates back into his chair.
“It’s meant to be a surprise! I want to see what you think about the taste without knowing the ingredients.”
“I suppose that’s fair.”
Folding your hands on your lap, the office descends into silence for a brief moment, the three of you intently watching the teacups in front of you. Then, Sigewinne finally claps her hands and declares—
“Okay, they’ve steeped long enough. Go ahead!”
“Finally,” Wriothesley happily mumbles, reaching forward to pick up the pristine little plate on which his cup of tea resides. He brings the cup to his nose, inhaling deeply, and then takes a tentative sip.
“Hmm…”
He frowns, his brows pinching as he tries to discern the flavors he’s tasting.
Curiosity getting the better of you, you take a sip from your own cup—wincing as the hot liquid accidentally burns your tongue.
“So?” Sigewinne prompts, staring excitedly between the two of you.
“It’s…pleasant,” you respond, clearly not as big of a tea connoisseur as the Duke. “It has a hint of sweetness.”
“It tastes like a Rainbow Rose smells,” Wriothesley adds, taking another sip. His gaze slides to you. “Did you pick some for her?”
You shake your head.
“No, I didn’t. Or…at least I didn’t pick any fresh ones. I did go to a vendor and purchase something in a bottle that looked like crushed, pink dust.”
Sigewinne cutely laughs.
“As expected of you, Your Grace. Yes, one of the ingredients is dried Rainbow Rose petals. Do you like it?”
Wriothesley makes a pleased sound.
“I do. The taste is light, but pleasant—like Y/N said.”
“Good! I want both of you to drink up.”
Sigewinne finally picks up her own tea, and you can’t help but notice the difference in color when compared to yours and Wriothesley’s. She really is drinking something different…but why?
“Aye aye, captain,” Wriothesley responds, which makes Sigewinne laugh. You smile at the cute interaction between them, and have some more of your tea as well.
Together, the three of you engage in friendly conversation—catching up about recent topics while indulging in tea and a few different snacks that Wriothesley had pulled out for the occasion. As you drink, you can’t help but notice you feel…warm. A heat that spreads out from your stomach, and slowly creeps into your limbs.
You’ve never felt this way before but…maybe the tea is just extra hot today?
You glance up to Wriothesley and notice that he’s a little flushed as well. Which is…reassuring? You think. Since you’re obviously not the only one affected.
“Oh! Y/N!”
Sigewinne’s sudden call of your name draws you from your thoughts, and you look over at her. She smiles.
“I forgot to ask, but are you dating anyone?”
“Sigewinne,” Wriothesley gently scolds. He leans forward and sets his teacup on the table, the cup now empty.
His tone practically says “It’s not appropriate to ask questions like that” without actually saying it. Sigewinne pouts.
“Aww, c’mon. We’re all friends here! I wouldn’t ask otherwise.”
Hearing that the melusine considers you to be a friend, you decide to grace her with an answer—ignoring the tingling of the taste buds on your tongue.
“No, I am not seeing anyone,” you inform her with a polite smile. Sigewinne nods happily at your answer, which makes your smile waver.
Is she happy you’re single?? Ouch.
“Okay, good,” she says. “I’d feel a little bad, otherwise.”
You blink in confusion at her words, watching her as she pops off her chair and heads towards the door. Wriothesley raises an eyebrow at her.
There’s sweat beading on his brow.
“Where are you going?”
“Away,” she responds. “To give you two some privacy.”
You and Wriothesley glance at each other, mirroring each other’s confusion.
Your tummy starts to ache.
“Why are you leaving us alone, exactly?”
Stopping just in front of the office doors, Sigewinne turns on her heel to face the two of you. There’s a smug grin on her face.
“This is what happens when you don’t follow doctor’s orders.”
You frown, raising a hand to your chest, wondering why your heart is suddenly racing.
What’s this about doctor’s orders?
You glance over at Wriothesley…only to see that he’s frozen in shock—his eyes wide with realization.
His pants feel too tight.
“Sigewinne, you did not—”
There’s an edge to his voice when he speaks, his eyes narrowing. He plants his feet on the floor and prepares to stand and confront her, but before he can blink, Sigewinne has drawn her pistol—a tranquilizing bullet hitting him square in the chest, where a little patch of skin is showing.
He makes a noise of surprise, and quickly flops back into his chair to avoid falling on the floor—his limbs immediately going numb.
“Sigewinne!” you gasp. You’re not sure what’s going on, but the fact that she’d just shot Wriothesley is…
“It’s okay,” she says with a little sigh. “The effect will wear off in a few minutes. And…I’m sorry I scared you. Let me explain…”
She holsters her gun and smiles at you, trying to calm you down.
“As the nurse of the Fortress of Meropide, it is my duty to look after all residents, including Your Grace. And over the last few months, I’ve noticed him becoming more… irritable.”
“Sigewinne…,” Wriothesley mumbles, but the girl waves him off.
“After observing him for a while, I realized that his stress levels were getting high. And as his doctor, I recommended him a way to manage his stress, but he refused. He insisted tea was enough to soothe his nerves, but that’s simply not true. So…when you started working here, and I saw how well the two of you were getting along, I…got an idea.”
Sigewinne glances over at Wriothesley, noticing how he’s begun to shift his boots against the floor.
Her tranquilizers won’t be in effect much longer. They never work as well on people Wriothesley’s size…
So, she decides to cut to the chase.
Reaching into her pocket, Sigewinne pulls out the DO NOT DISTURB sign you’d seen her making the other day. She holds it in front of her, and beams at you.
“Simply put, the Duke needs to have sexual intercourse to relieve his tension. After watching the two of you and seeing you interact on both physical and intellectual levels, I determined that you would be ideal partners for each other. So, I invited the both of you to partake in an aphrodisiac made from the herbs you gathered for me.”
“You…you drugged us?” you gape, completely thrown by everything she’s just told you. She immediately gets defensive, her cheeks puffing.
“I medicated you,” she corrects. “And in the end, I’m only acting as a doctor. This all could have been avoided if Your Grace had just taken care of his own needs, as I’d insisted. Since he didn’t, I could only logically assume it's because it’s his preference to have a partner, rather than going at it solo. So, if you want to blame anyone for this, please blame him.”
“Sigewinne—”
Gripping the arms of his chair, Wriothesley breathes out a heavy sigh and begins to push himself up. You can’t help but notice his face is much redder now, and you’re not sure if it’s from embarrassment, the effects of the drugs, or both.
Seeing that Wriothesley has nearly regained his strength, Sigewinne hurries to exit his office.
“Anyway! The effects of the tea should wear off in a few hours, but only if you relieve yourselves. Otherwise, it will last much longer. So I suggest you let loose and indulge yourselves. You like each other! Enjoy this time!”
Wriothesley opens his mouth to say something, but his words catch in his throat the second Sigewinne opens his office door. He doesn’t want anyone outside of his office walls to hear him or know what’s going on.
“I’ll hang this sign on the door,” Sigewinne continues, her voice hushing. “So no one comes in while you two are…busy. Just remove it once you’re done, okay? Have fun!”
With a supportive little fist pump, Sigewinne then closes the door, leaving you and Wriothesley alone.
A few long beats of silence pass, then Wriothesley finally sighs.
"I…apologize for this. I never meant for you to get roped in."
You turn to look at him, only to find that he's standing with his back to you, his hand raising to rub at the back of his head.
You can see his muscles flexing as he does so, and you hate to admit that it causes the heat inside you to grow.
"It's…not your fault," you respond, laughing a little awkwardly. "I doubt it's easy to follow directions when your doctor tells you to jack off to rectify your hardass-ness."
Wriothesley glances at you over his shoulder.
"Have I been acting like a hardass?"
"You've been a little snippy at times," you tell him, smoothing your sweaty palms down your legs. Seriously, your clothes are starting to make you feel claustrophobic…
"Not to me, specifically. But I've noticed it towards some of the prison residents."
"Shit," he sighs, rubbing his temples. You continue to watch him, your eyes wandering the expanse of his back. For a second, you don't understand why he won't face you. Then it clicks.
"...are you…hard? Is that why you're not turning around?"
"It's…pretty bad," Wriothesley admits, his shoulder sagging in defeat. "I don't know what all was in that tea but…as an aphrodisiac, it's doing its job."
"Yeah…," you agree, swallowing heavily. You can feel wet arousal pooling on the fabric of your panties. His office has also started to feel like a sauna, but you're not sure if it's the air that's hot, or your body.
However, you're still not willing to breach the topic of "relief" with him. You haven't reached that level of desperation…yet .
So, you think of something else to carry the conversation in the meantime.
"So…Sigewinne said you like me?"
"Ah, you caught that."
He laughs a little, and begins pacing around the room, still careful to keep his back to you. You can't help but notice his stride is a little…impeded.
"If I'm being frank—yes, I do. You've been…a pleasure to have around, since I hired you. Actually, one of the reasons I picked you in the first place was because of how you acted during your interview. Most people are scared of me and therefore talk cautiously. You're certainly respectful, of course, but…you're a bit playful, as well. And I found that quality to be attractive."
"Ah, so I charmed you," you respond playfully. "Remind me to add that point to my resume later. "Managed to woo the Lord of the Fortress of Meropide". That sounds pretty good—"
"And there you go again," Wriothesley laughs. He steps behind the chair he'd been sitting in previously, and then finally turns to face you—the back of the chair tall enough that his lower half is out of sight.
"Although, if I recall her words correctly, Sigewinne stated that we "like each other". So, is there something you'd like to say as well?"
Your eyes go wide, and you feel more blood rush into your head. Wriothesley smiles, wide enough to show teeth.
"C’mon now. It's not fair that I praise you and get nothing in return."
You pout.
"To be fair, I didn't know why Sigewinne suddenly asked me what I thought of you…"
"That’s understandable, but still. I'd like to know what you told her."
Wriothesley maintains his playful demeanor, despite the way his knuckles begin to turn white at his sides—a deep-seated need slowly sinking its claws into him.
You sigh.
"I just…told her that you're a good boss, and are deserving of your titles and the respect you garner…"
You trail off, suddenly remembering the last thing you'd told Sigewinne during that conversation. Wriothesley clearly notices there's something you're leaving out, one of his eyebrows raising.
"And?"
You take a deep breath.
"That you're a cute puppy."
He blinks in shock.
"...excuse me?"
Oh god, you wanna phase through the floor.
"I said that even though you look scary, you're really just like a big…cute…puppy."
For a moment, Wriothesley can only stare at you. Then, he throws his head back and laughs.
Embarrassed, you plant your palms on your thighs and push to your feet, instinctively wanting to run away…only to realize that your legs have gone weak.
With a distraught noise, you flop back into your chair.
Out of the corner of his eye, Wriothesley notices.
He coughs, pulling himself back together.
"Well, I've certainly never heard myself described in such a way before. I can't say I totally hate it, but I'm not sure if I agree with the term "puppy"."
You force an awkward laugh, finally losing steam as the arousal inside you begins to cloud your thoughts. Sigewinne obviously wasn't messing around when making her aphrodisiac…you've never felt so horny before that it has literally hindered your mental and physical faculties.
The office is silent for a few tense moments, but finally, Wriothesley heaves a heavy sigh. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, his shoulders slumping as he hangs his head.
"You may revoke your good opinion of me, considering how inappropriate it is for a boss to even consider such a thing, but…I think my dick is gonna explode soon, so I'll just come out and ask."
You swallow, anticipating his next words.
"Would you be…interested in having sex?"
Your body shivers in excitement at the idea, the lustful part of your brain screaming at you to jump him already.
"I…would," you admit, managing to keep it together. Wriothesley's entire body jolts impatiently at your words, but he’s able to keep himself grounded.
"I don't think I'll be able to survive…this without some relief. And…I trust you. So…"
"So we're in agreement," Wrioslethely supplies, waiting for your confirmation. You nod your head.
"We are."
In the next beat, he's is crossing the space between you, a "thank god" barely making it past his lips before he crashes them into yours.
Immediately, you’re groaning into him—your arms wrapping around his neck and his hands finding the backs of your thighs. He lifts you from your chair easily—your chests pressing together as he holds you close.
You’ve always been acutely aware of how large Wriothesley is, but you don’t think it fully sinks in until now—as he manhandles you with ease, quite literally carrying you with one arm as the other sneaks beneath your shirt and tugs it over your head.
You’re forced to break the kiss as he does so, but the second the fabric has been discarded, you’re tangling your fingers in his hair and dragging him in for another.
Your action evokes a pleased little rumble inside his chest.
“You taste sweet,” he mumbles, his palm roaming over the exposed skin of your back. The warmth of his skin against yours makes you ache.
“It’s probably the aphrodisiac,” you reply breathlessly, a shiver raking your spine when you feel his fingers toy at the waistband of your pants.
“Hmm, shall we posit your theory?”
Before you can even think to ask what he means, the room is spinning—too many things happening at once. However, it’s nearly impossible to miss the feel of your pants being shucked down your legs.
When everything settles, you find that you’re no longer chest to chest with Wriothesley, but rather, face to dick.
“Wh—”
Your cheeks heat up as you finally digest the position he’s put you in—your ass in his face, and his crotch in yours—his body now firmly planted in a chair as he spreads his thighs and makes himself comfortable.
“Wriothesley!” you say in shock, your palms gripping his legs for support as you attempt to turn and face him. However, you quickly realize with the position he has chosen, you’re fairly helpless to do anything—completely at his mercy as he locks his arms around your legs and grips your ass in his hands.
“Hm?” he responds nonchalantly, one of his fingers slipping under the edge of your panties. You shift a little, trying to glare at him, but only succeed in having his clothed dick poke you in the cheek. He tenses at the sensation, and you feel his cock strain helplessly against the fabric of his pants—begging for more friction.
“I’m just testing your theory, like I said,” he continues, a surprised mewl tearing from your throat as he leans his head forward and nuzzles his nose in the damp fabric of your panties.
“If you think it’s the aphrodisiac making you sweet, let’s see if it’s also having that effect elsewhere—”
Before you can protest, Wriothesley is tugging the crotch of your underwear aside—his tongue licking a hot, languid strip between your folds. You gasp at the feeling, your nails digging into his thighs through the layer of clothes that he wears.
Above you, the Duke makes a pleased sound, repeating his previous action—noting the way your body writhes against his hold. His fingers grip your ass tighter, his brows furrowing as he presses his tongue inside your entrance—your arousal quickly coating his taste buds.
“Yep,” he mutters after a moment, his voice tight and his throat bobbing as he harshly swallows. “You taste…addicting.”
His words have your cunt squeezing around nothing, although he quickly dives back in and rectifies that problem—stretching your walls out around his tongue.
“Fuck…,” you pant, your head dropping as your strength wanes. Your muscles progressively start to feel like jelly, thanks to his ministrations. Especially, when he moves his mouth to your clit and begins rolling his tongue around it—a whine escaping you as the desire inside of you sears white hot.
And yet, despite the way Wriothesley presses on—groaning into your pussy as he eats you out—you’d be remiss to forget about the fact that he’s currently affected by the aphrodisiac as well, and has his own needs that need to be taken care of.
So, gathering what strength you have, you manage to push yourself up onto your forearms—your hands moving to the waistband of his pants. You frantically work open the button and zipper of his slacks, and then hook your fingers under the elastic of his underwear, tugging the band down.
…only to have his freed cock immediately spring up and smack you in the face.
Your eyes go wide, and in normal circumstances, you’d expect Wriothesley to laugh at the comedy of what has just occurred. However, too immersed in the way your cunt tastes and feels, and the way your body continues to twitch in his hold, he doesn’t even notice. And, too amazed by the sheer size of Wriothesley’s dick as you finally lean your head back and get a good look at him, you don’t bother saying anything.
No, instead you simply part your lips and take the head of his cock into your mouth—sucking lightly, your tongue teasing at his slit. The groan that’s immediately torn from his throat is involuntary—the sound becoming muffled by your pussy as he momentarily stops to savor the feeling of your mouth on his dick—your tongue flattening on the underside of his shaft as you slowly take more of him into your mouth.
Then, he goes back to eating you out with renewed fervor—your eyes nearly rolling back into your skull when he sucks at your clit.
The room quickly fills with the sound of sloppy and messy oral, your head bobbing up and down Wriothesley’s cock. Saliva drips down his length, his pre-cum smearing against your tongue, and you can’t help but moan.
Everything feels so good—from Wriothesley’s tongue on your cunt, to the way his cock fills up your mouth…
“Fuck,” Wriothesley growls. His fingers move to pull at the folds of your pussy, spreading you open wider. You can feel his hot breath on your skin as he moves his mouth back to your clit, where he then stays—his tongue flicking rhythmically against the sensitive bundle of nerves.
The pace and motion he settles on is one that you know will very quickly damn you, and he figures this out as well based on the way your thighs begin to shake in his grasp. Your body attempts to jolt away from him—trying to escape the onslaught of pleasure he intends to give—but he leaves no wiggle room. He holds you tighter, enjoying the feeling of your mouth on his cock, and how your efforts slowly start to crumble along with your sanity.
“I…,” you mumble the word around dick, trying to warn him of the orgasm you can feel quickly approaching. Your entire body swims with arousal, your head feeling light.
“Keep going, sweetheart,” he pants. “Let’s cum together.”
You feel his cock throb against your tongue, and, dutifully, you do your best to continue sucking him off—your lips once again suctioning around his shaft. Your actions immediately evoke a pleased groan from the Duke, and you feel his thighs tense in your grasp—his own orgasm quickly approaching.
However, despite your best efforts to continue, everything falls apart the second your climax finally crests.
With a cry, you come undone—your body writhing in his hold. You go brainless almost immediately, the strength in your arms wavering, and Wriothesley’s cock stuffing into your cheek—your hot breath fanning over his length.
Luckily, the vulgarity of the entire situation is enough to push Wriothesley over the finish line—his dick painting the inside of your mouth with his cum. And to his surprise, once he’s spent, you actually pull your head back, close your lips, and swallow.
Shit, he thinks.
His dick is just starting to soften, and yet somehow, it’s also already getting hard again.
There’s a few beats of quiet that are filled only with the sound of you and Wriothesley panting. Then, once he’s caught his breath, he says—
“Let’s get you right side up.”
—and the world spins again.
Honestly, the fact that he can manhandle you this easily is criminal.
“You okay?” he asks, sitting you on one of his thighs. He brushes a few stray hairs from your face, staring at you with a hint of concern.
You nod your head, grateful that the carnal desire you’ve been afflicted with is clearly less, now that you and Wriothesley have both gotten off. But…even despite that, you still feel hot and tingly. Like you want more.
You glance down at his lap.
“Mmm. Seems like you’re in the same predicament as me.”
“Think you can handle another round?” he asks. You meet his eyes, playfully raising your eyebrows.
“I’m almost tempted to say no, and see what you do.”
Wriothesley rolls his eyes, his hands grabbing your waist, and in the next moment, you find yourself slung over his shoulder.
“Hey—!” you protest, attempting to look at him, but he only caresses your ass with his free hand.
“If you have that much spunk left in you, you can handle another round,” he says, carrying you down the nearby staircase, to the floor below his office. “But, I’ll be kind this time and make you more comfortable.”
His boots echo against the metal floor as he walks, and for a second, you wonder where exactly he’s taking you. But, soon after, Wriothesley pushes through a nearby door, and you find yourself in a moderately sized bedroom.
It must be his, you realize, feeling a little silly that you’d never pondered before now where the Master of the prison actually sleeps.
“Here we are.”
Wriothesley gently deposits you onto his bed, and then immediately reaches for his tie. You watch him with bated breath, your heart doing a tiny flip as you realize that he’s finally stripping out of his clothes. He opts to leave on the leather belts encircling his arms and neck, instead focusing the bulk of his time on shedding his suit, and undoing the many buckles on his boots.
By the time he’s finished—his erect cock once again sitting heavy between his legs—you’re practically drooling at the sight of him.
His lips twitch into a little smile.
“I’m happy to know that you like what you see. However, in the time I spent undressing myself, you couldn’t be bothered to remove what little clothing you have left? C’mon now, are you waiting for me to wrestle you out of them?”
Still feeling cheeky, you flash him a grin.
“Hm, I’d like to see you try.”
Wriothesley immediately cocks an eyebrow, his eyes glinting at the challenge you’ve just issued, and your attitude wavers, realizing what it is you’ve done. You open your mouth to say you’re only teasing—your hands already raising behind your back to undo the clasp of your bra—but it’s too late.
In one swift motion, Wriothesley grabs your ankle and twists you onto your stomach—his weight settling above you as he kneels onto the bed. You shiver when his knuckles brush against your skin—his fingers swiftly undoing your bra.
“You’re just a little brat, aren’t you…”
He speaks the words fondly, with a hint of amusement, and yet, they still go straight to your cunt.
“Don’t say things like that,” you respond, instinctively raising your hips when Wriothesley hooks his fingers on your underwear and begins tugging them down your thighs. He stares intently at your backside as he does so, an idea popping into his mind.
“Why? Because you like it too much?”
He discards your panties on the floor along with the rest of the clothes you’d both shed, and then grabs your knees, forcing you to spread your legs, so he can properly settle between them.
Another blush rises on your face at his words, your tongue feeling heavy in your mouth. At your lack of response, Wriothesely continues.
“In my understanding, brats tend to like it a little rougher, so…”
His hands ghost up your thighs, to your hips, and he grips you tightly—forcing your lower half off the bed until you’re propped up on your knees—his cock sitting heavy against your ass.
“...what say we continue like this, hm?”
Bracing yourself on your forearms, you turn your head back to look at him—your body tensing as you watch him fist his cock and drag it downward, between the lips of your pussy.
His icy eyes catch yours.
“Any objection?”
“...no,” you mumble, your fingers anticipatedly fisting in the sheets.
Wriothesley nods—
“Good.”
—and then presses the head of his cock inside you.
Immediately, you drop your forehead against the mattress—willing your body to relax for him as he slowly inches inside of you.
His tongue had certainly been enjoyable, but this? Fuck. Nothing compares to the sensation of him slowly stuffing you inch by inch—the girth of his cock positively delicious as he forces your cunt to stretch to accommodate him.
It’s so much that by the time he’s fully seated inside of you, your body is shaking—your breath coming out in quick, desperately little pants.
Seeing your reaction, Wriothesely soothes a hand up your spine, his warm palm settling between your shoulder blades. He decides to start slow—to give you a little more time to adjust to him.
And honestly, he’d love to take his time in general—to really savor the sight of you beneath him, your cunt swallowing his cock so perfectly, but alas. The effects of the aphrodisiac make him impatient with need, and it’s not long before he’s moving faster—little gasps and whines finding their way past your lips as he begins fucking you back onto his cock.
“Ahh…seriously you’re…so fucking tight,” he curses. His fingers dig into the plush of your hip—his jaw clenching, and his racing heart pumping lust through his veins.
Your cunt clamping on his dick seriously might be his personal slice of heaven.
“Wrio, I—,” you can’t even get the words out, your brain short-circuiting. You can’t think straight anymore—not with his cock rubbing you in all the right spots, making a mess of your insides, and quickly rocketing you towards another—
Wait, no, it’s only been a minute—!
“Fuck! ”
You choke the word out, your spine curving and your knuckles turning white as your second orgasm of the night is unexpectedly forced out of you—your pussy spasming around Wriothesley’s dick.
The last of your strength officially drained, you collapse forward onto the mattress, your cheek smushing into the covers.
…however, Wriothesley doesn’t allow your lower half to fall along with the rest of you—his hold on your hips keeping your twitching pussy firmly planted on his still-hard dick.
“We’re not done yet, sweetheart,” he reminds you, his cock continuing to languidly drag between your walls, drawing out the tail end of your pleasure.
You can’t help but whimper at his words, already feeling a bit oversensitive thanks to two consecutive orgasms. Wriothesley does his best to soothe your frayed nerves.
Leaning over you, he gently tangles his fist in your hair—coaxing your head off the mattress so he can kiss you.
The kiss is messy, but sweet—the angle of your bodies forcing his cock deeper inside of you, his hips completely flush against your ass.
“You’re doing so good,” he tells you, peppering a trail of kisses against your cheek, and across your jaw. His praise causes you to whimper, a shiver raking up your spine when his tongue drags across your skin—his teeth nipping at the nape of your neck.
His actions successfully get you to relax—your body becoming more pliable in his grasp as he once again begins to move. And soon enough, the wet sound of sex fills his bedroom once more.
Wanting to help him cum (and to feel his seed fill you), you do your best to help Wriothesley along—purposefully flexing the walls of your pussy as he fucks you. However, in doing so, you accidentally start yourself down the path of yet another orgasm…
Feeling the familiar, aching pleasure beginning to build inside of you once again, you quickly stop what you’re doing. You think that a third orgasm honestly might kill you, but…it’s too late.
Wriothesley has already noticed your growing arousal, and decides that he likes it better when the two of you cum together.
So, he sneaks one of his hands between the apex of your legs, and begins rubbing at your clit.
The garbled, desperate cry that leaves your mouth immediately becomes seared in his mind for a long time to come.
“No, Wrio, I…I can’t. I—”
Your words come out jumbled, tears beading on your lash line.
Momentarily removing his hand from your clit, he once again reaches forward and grips your hair—pulling your head back so he can kiss you. His lips swallow up your worries.
“You can,” he insists, his voice whispering in your ear, and his hot breath fanning over your skin.
“I want you to cum with me, pretty girl. You can do it.”
You give no protest aside from a cute little whine, and that's good enough for Wriothesley.
Releasing your hair, his hand finds your clit once more.
He then proceeds to fuck you into the mattress—pursuing his orgasm with abandon. A groan leaves his mouth at the way your pussy starts clamping on his dick once again—tightening up with each pass of his fingers across your clit—your pussy slick and messy with your own arousal.
Unable to think straight, you can only hold on for dear life—clinging to his sheets like a lifeline. You can’t even process the sounds that are coming out of your own mouth—a damned, desperate symphony moans.
To Wriothesley, it all sounds like a siren's cry—beckoning him closer to the edge.
“Shit,” he pants, feeling his cock throb, and his balls tighten. The motion of his fingers on your clit quickens—your toes curling as the coil of pleasure in your tummy continues to wind—so close to snapping.
Sweat beading on his brow, Wriothesley leans forward, curling his body against yours. His teeth nip at the shell of your ear, his husky voice sending goosebumps across your skin.
“So good for me…,” he breathes, his hips smacking into your ass. His broad strokes deteriorate into needy rutting, and the sensation has you quite literally sobbing—his cock now incessantly grinding into your g-spot.
You can’t take it anymore.
Shoving your face into the mattress, you bite the sheets and scream—your entire body shaking as you cum for a third time, your cunt milking around Wriothesley’s cock.
He curses at the feeling, his face burying in your neck. Wrapping his arms around you, he hugs you to his body—fucking inside of you a few more times before finally joining you in ecstasy.
His teeth sink into you as his orgasms peaks, a heady groan muffled against your skin as his balls empty—pumping you full of his cum.
It’s not until the intensity of his pleasure has died down that Wriothesley ultimately releases you from his hold—your lower half immediately flopping down onto the bed, and his softening cock slipping out of you.
The Duke takes a moment to simply look at you, and how fucked out you are. Your eyes bleary, skin flushed, and the imprint of his teeth engraved in your flesh.
He grunts at the sight, and settles in beside you—his arm curling around your waist as he tugs you back against him. His tongue immediately begins lapping at the bite mark he’d inflicted, attempting to soothe the sting.
After a few seconds, you begin shaking, and Wriothesley immediately pauses, scared that he’s hurt you in some way.
…only to realize that you’re laughing.
“...puppy…”
He props himself up, glancing at you.
“What?”
“You really are like a puppy,” you giggle, your finger lifting to brush a stray tear from your eye. “The way you bit me, and then immediately started licking at it in apology. So cute…”
You break into another tiny fit of laughter, and Wriothesley rolls his eyes, yet can’t help cracking a smile.
“Well, I’m glad to know I didn’t break you, at the very least.”
His hand rubs against your waist.
“...right?”
Finally getting ahold of yourself, you roll onto your back and smile at him, your hand reaching out to cup his cheek. He immediately leans into your touch, and it makes your heart flutter.
“I’m not broken, no. Just…sore. And gross. And sweaty.”
Wriothesley chuckles.
“Well, I think I can rectify some of those issues. I do have a bathroom, with a tub.”
“Wow,” you respond, watching him as he scoots to the edge of the mattress and gets to his feet. He waits a second for you to join him, but you don’t move.
“My…limbs feel like jello,” you admit, raising your arm and flopping it back down bonelessly for emphasis. Wriothesley rolls his eyes, but nonetheless leans over the bed and scoops you into his arms.
You rest your cheek against his chest, admiring for the first time how soft it really is.
“Whatever shall I do with you,” he playfully sighs, carrying you into the adjacent bathroom. He sets you on the vanity, moving over to the tub and turning on the tap for the hot water. You hum.
“Mmm, I can think of a few things you can do. The first of which is helping me into the bath once it’s ready.”
Wriothesley quietly chuckles. Returning to your side, he takes your hand, and brings it to his lips.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Once the tub has filled, the Duke keeps true to his word—once again carefully cradling you in his arms as he seats himself in the tub basin, before positioning you in the space between his legs.
The steaming water immediately soothes the ache of your body, and you sigh in relief—sinking back against Wriothesley’s body. He lightly wraps one arm around your waist, the other resting on the edge of the tub.
For a few long minutes, the two of you bask in silence, simply enjoying the refreshing feel of the bath.
…then, you start to notice something beginning to grow—pressing at your back.
“...really? Is the aphrodisiac still getting to you that much?”
“No,” he admits after a beat, leaning forward to kiss your neck. “I think this one is actually all me.”
You roll your eyes, but nonetheless crane your head to the side—allowing him access to more of your skin as his mouth begins to wander.
“I thought I made it clear that my limbs are jello right now.”
“I can work with that,” he responds, and you feel him grin. His hand slowly trails down your stomach, and between your legs.
“I’ll do all the work. You just get to make pretty sounds and feel good.”
His fingers slide between the folds of your pussy, and you jolt as he passes over your overly-sensitive clit. But seriously…how are you going to say no to him?
“What am I going to do with you?” you sigh, echoing his earlier words. His chest rumbles with laughter, and he grabs your chin with his free hand—turning your head so he can kiss you.
“Mmm, I can think of a few things.”
The next morning, you find yourself in a back in your clothes, standing beside Wriothesley just inside his office door.
“I’ll go first,” you say, to which he nods. “I have some errands to run anyway. You can wait a minute and then come out after me.”
“Sounds good.”
The two of you stare at each other for a second, before you finally square your shoulders, and reach for the door handle.
Before you can twist it, Wriothesley catches your wrist. When you look back at him, you find that there’s a blush on his cheeks.
“So, I’ll…see you later?”
His suddenly bashful demeanor causes you to smile. Pressing onto your toes, you cup his cheeks and softly kiss him. He immediately grabs your waist—deepening the kiss.
“You’ll see me later,” you promise.
With that, the two of you finally separate, and you disappear through his office door.
Wriothesley takes a deep breath at your departure, combing a hand through his hair as he waits for the right moment to make his own exit.
To be safe, he decides to wait a good few minutes. But finally, he opens his door—preparing to venture into the main area of the fortress, and make his normal rounds.
…however, he only makes it a step before remembering the sign Sigewinne had made.
With a sigh, he immediately backtracks and tears the DO NOT DISTURB sign off of his door, crumpling it between his palms.
When he turns back around, he nearly jumps—Sigewinne standing right in front of him.
“So,” she says, a pleased grin on her face. “How’d it go?”
Narrowing his eyes, Wriothesley only stares ahead, and walks past her. She easily follows after him.
“The fact that you’re out and about this early in the day means something likely happened between you and Y/N.”
“No comment,” Wriothesley responds, which makes Sigewinne giggle. They pass by a few prisoners as Wriothesley makes a B-line for the elevator to the production zone. Once there, Sigewinne squeezes herself in along with him.
As the elevator begins to descend, only a few seconds pass in silence, before Sigewinne asks one last question.
“As your doctor, it’s my recommendation that you continue to regularly relieve your stress. So, are you going to be dutifully carrying out my orders from now on?”
Wriothesley makes a little face, glancing away from her.
›› synopsis: whilst on the road, you get your period. astarion, being the loving, caring, supportive boyfriend he is, offers to help. he has no ulterior motives. obviously.
you wake with a start, astarion’s cold arm a comforting weight across your waist. you can’t think what could have possibly woken you up so suddenly, as you listen for any untoward noises around camp. but there’s only astarion’s steady, gentle breathing behind you and gale’s obnoxious snoring echoing from the other end of the clearing.
as you settle back down on your bedroll, however, you become aware of something sticky and wet between your legs. could be that a wet dream concerning your beloved has you in such a state, but you don’t remember dreaming of him last night. no, now that your senses are returning to you, you remember that last night was reserved for another visit from your so-called guardian. so what … ?
you toss your end of the blanket aside and groan, throwing your head back against the pack you’ve set out for a makeshift pillow. doing so earns you another yelp; must have made contact with one of the stems of the many apples wedged into your supply bag.
astarion is on his feet in an instant, startling you; you weren’t even aware he was awake. not that elves ever truly sleep. it always slightly unnerves you to feel him levitating beside you in his meditative state. ❝ you’re hurt. ❞ his voice is rough, thick with inertia. ❝ i swear i’ll find whoever did this and bleed them dry. we should never have trusted that damned cleric; shar this and shar that. i’ll shove her blessed shar right up her — ❞
he’s already kicking his own pack aside to stomp his way out of the tent when you hiss, ❝ astarion! ❞
luckily he’s not too aggravated to stop and give you a glance back so you can explain in a low murmur, ❝ it’s my cycle … ❞
astarion stops short, one pale hand clutched to his chest. ❝ oh … i — ❞ he waves that same hand now toward the opening of his tent. ❝ i thought … ❞
❝ i know what you thought, ❞ you sigh, more weary knowing what’s to come over the next 7 days than you are of him, than you could ever be of him. ❝ but it’s not. so just come back to bed. please? ❞
❝ i thought you’d never ask … ❞ he purrs, back to his normal self.
unfortunately, you’re doubled over in pain before he’s even halfway back.
❝ i knew you were in pain. ❞ astarion’s back at your side in a flash. ❝ just tell me who and i’ll — ❞
❝ i am, ❞ you gasp, ❝ in pain. but … not because anyone hurt me. well, more like mother nature cursed me. ❞
a particularly bad cramp seizes you and your hand flies out, clutching the front of astarion’s silky tunic. you press your fingers in to feel his cold, broad chest. the sensation calms you a bit … until yet another bout of pain rolls through your midsection.
icy fingers find yours, ghosting over your knuckles. ❝ shall i … see if the druid can make you something? ❞
you shake your head, tugging at his shirt. ❝ just lay with me. please. ❞
astarion’s skin is blessedly cool against yours, as it always is. you lean into him, pressing your face against his frigid neck, soothing your burning cheeks.
his glacial hands find the edge of your tunic, and then the small of your back, which helps more than he could possibly know. you shudder against him, pushing, trying to get more of him.
❝ you know … ❞ astarion sniffs, delicate voice very close to your ear. ❝ i have heard of one thing that is guaranteed to relieve moon sickness. ❞
pulling back, you glance curiously up at him.
he has that rakish grin on his face that you’ve come to know all too well in the past weeks. his reddened eyes roll away from you. ❝ come now, pup. you must know what i mean … sex. ❞ your heart jumps into your throat at the thought; you’re sure astarion can feel it beating harder against his own chest.
suddenly, his mouth is just under your ear, teeth rasping against the exact place he’s fed from you dozens of times before. ❝ i can smell it, my love. ❞
you don’t answer immediately; while you can’t deny the thought appeals to you, if for no other reason than to rid yourself of these damnable cramps, you’re also apprehensive. astarion feeding from your neck is one thing — still intimate, but relatively normal by vampire standards. to have astarion feed down there, on that blood, feeding from your womb …
❝ you’re right, it’s a bad idea, absolutely disgusting. i don’t know why i — ❞
❝ do it. ❞
❝ eh … hm? ❞
❝ do it, ❞ you repeat, grasping onto him for dear life as another squeezing, crushing shock of pain settles in your stomach. ❝ please, astarion. i can’t take it anymore. ❞
it’s been many moons since your cycle has been this bad. traveling on the road without proper food or rest may finally be catching up to you, exacerbating things. not much you can do about that until you reach the city, though.
other than letting your vampire lover drink your blood, of course.
laying you gently back without another complaint, astarion slips the blanket off of you and reaches to undo your breeches.
anxiety overtakes you; there’s already blood on your trousers and the blanket, you’re going to have to wash them in the river as soon as you’re able. you can’t even imagine the scene underneath your pants … but you’re about to find out.
gently, astarion prizes the trousers from your legs, then gasps softly. ❝ oh, my love … ❞
prying your eyes from the ceiling of the tent, you finally look down. astarion is there, of course, looking lovely as always. except, however, the lines on his face look deeper, almost carved, and the dark circles under his eyes are darker, his eyes redder.
another spell of panic grips you; bright red blood is smeared across your inner thighs.
astarion looks dizzy as he takes you in, cold hands cradling the outsides of your legs. you’re about to apologize and shove him away, tell him this is a mistake, in fact you will ask halsin to make you something — and that’s when astarion mutters, ❝ you are exquisite, ❞ and dives in to have his first taste.
the feeling of his tongue on your thighs makes you shiver, and the cool night air wafting in from the tent flap isn’t helping. you grab the clean end of the blanket and drape your upper half, canting your hips up to tell astarion what it is you truly want.
because even through all the anxiety, there’s also a bubble of arousal blooming between your legs. astarion can’t tell, of course, not through all the blood down there, but you sure as hell can. you have the most perfect creature you’ve ever set eyes on between your legs; how could you not be aroused?
❝ all in due time, ❞ astarion chuckles, voice muffled against your thighs as he continues to clean you up. thoroughly. too thoroughly.
❝ you always tease, ❞ you whine, knocking one of your knees against his ribcage.
this time when his gaze flashes sharply to you, his eyes are the reddest you’ve ever seen them. it makes you shake.
astarion’s nails dig into your hips, deliciously, wickedly. you tremble, reaching for him. he chuckles and kisses the inside of one of your wrists, which leaves a smear of blood. ❝ always such a needy little pup for me, aren’t you? ❞
you don’t even have time to nod before he dives back in, his mouth exactly where you want it this time. his lips suction around your clit, tongue lapping out lower down to scoop a sizeable pearl of blood into his mouth.
this time, astarion is the one who shakes. he lays his cheek against your still-bloody thigh and shudders. ❝ you’re going to be the death of me, ❞ he sighs, and you can see him skirting his tongue around his mouth, flitting over his lips, savoring you.
you huff. ❝ you’ll be of me, too, if you don’t keep going. ❞
❝ so pushy, ❞ your lover mutters, but there’s absolutely no heat in his words as he obeys your command and buries his face back into your blood-soaked cunt.
for a while you just lie back and enjoy yourself, and let astarion enjoy himself as well. his arms are strong around your legs, holding you in place so you can’t squirm away. it feels way too damn good, you may have been tempted to try. but as it is, you can’t do anything but revel in the silky feeling of astarion’s tongue lapping up everything you have to give him, his fangs catching every so often on your clit, making you see stars.
at some point, you glance down at him and gasp. ❝ your shirt! ❞
you know how much he prides himself on his physical appearance, and now there’s blood staining the front ruffles of his normally immaculate tunic.
he glances down and tuts, frowning. ❝ oh well. it’ll have to go with the rest. ❞ just like that, he rips it off and tosses it with your soiled trousers.
he must be in heaven, you suspect, if he’s willing to discard his cherished clothing for you.
now shirtless, astarion gives one last gentle kiss to your clit and then slowly starts to climb your body. there’s blood dripping from his chin, staining the rest of the blanket wrapped around you. but more importantly, his broad chest is skating up the expanse of your bloody cunt as he comes, and your clit throbs seeing all that red coating his torso.
❝ astarion! ❞ you gasp, and he grins, mouth full of your blood.
❝ i’m loathe to ask you for a kiss, ❞ he whispers, so low you can barely hear him. ❝ just one. i promise. ❞
you swallow thickly, and he waits for you to lean up, pressing your lips to his in the softest kiss you can manage. blood squishes between you, and you can feel it coating your lips as you lie back down.
one lap of your tongue against your bottom lip and you grimace, spitting and rubbing at your mouth with the back of one hand.
astarion laughs heartily as you mutter, ❝ ugh, not for me. ❞
❝ more for me, ❞ astarion says, almost gleefully.
he’s obviously preparing to get back to it, but you keep him close with your hands on his shoulders. ❝ i want you. ❞
brows furrowed, astarion squeezes your waist. ❝ darling, you have me. ❞
❝ inside, ❞ you beg quietly, which you know enjoys immensely.
your next step might be a mistake, but you decide to chance it. bracing yourself with your legs wrapped around him, you thrust up, dragging your wetness along the front of his trousers. you can feel that he’s hard, and now there’s blood all over his pants. you’re hoping he won’t mind, considering his tunic is already ruined for the night as well.
luckily he doesn’t seem to, dark gaze sweeping down over the two of you covered in your blood, and then back up. ❝ i thought you’d never ask. ❞
his trousers quickly follow his tunic, erection jutting up between your legs.
❝ he looks happy, ❞ you giggle, as his swollen head prods at your blood-soaked entrance.
❝ to see you? always. ❞
having astarion inside of you is normally a relief, a release of all the rampant, pent up emotions this journey has bestowed upon you.
tonight is different.
with all that blood flowing south, your womb is aching, you're sore and swollen as astarion’s cock spears through your lips. every thrust sends a fresh flow of blood down his shaft, which earns you a tight growl from the vampire as he takes the backs of your knees in hand and shoves your thighs back toward your chest, eager to get even deeper inside of you.
and you’re eager to have him, nails digging into his chiseled back, the hard marble of his jaw knocking against your shoulder as his lips, slick with blood, find your ear again. ❝ are you feeling better, pet? does my cock soothe that ache inside of you? the ache that raged inside of you, until you met me? until i filled you up in every lovely way possible? ❞
his words make your brain go haywire, knees shaking around his ribcage, toes curling, your mouth rubbing comfortingly at his cool shoulder.
more than that, you do feel better. the more aroused you become, the more blood flows out of you, the less painful your cramps become. until you’re pushing down against him, trying to ride him at the same time as he’s shoving himself inside of you with reckless abandon. until you can’t remember why you started this in the first place, other than to wind up begging for him to finish inside of you.
❝ inside. please, astarion, inside … ❞ it’s hard to even think clearly enough to form words, your mind consumed with the sight of his beautiful body moving atop yours.
you assume he’ll make you beg, as he so often does; he loves hearing the desperate, pleading tone in your voice that tells him all he needs to know — you belong to him.
but he doesn’t. he fucks into you as hard as he ever has, his thick cock gliding against your engorged walls, making your eyes roll back.
and then the talking starts. the words that make you wish you knew whether or not vampires can actually have children. ❝ you want me to get you pregnant, love? want your belly to swell with my child inside of it? i will wait on you hand and foot, i promise. i would love seeing you walk around knowing you hold my heir, that you protected my seed so well that it grew into a child inside of you. ❞ astarion pauses momentarily to laugh, tugging your earlobe between his teeth. ❝ with all this blood, i know you must be fertile. ❞
both of you share a laugh, briefly.
and when you cum, together, he sinks his teeth into your neck with nothing but a quiet grunt, cockhead twitching and spurting inside of you.
you mewl softly, feeling the vampire trembling and shaking as he empties himself into you. your hands pet through his hair, soothe the back of his neck, across the scars circling his back.
the pain from before is nowhere to be found, replaced instead by a warm, fizzy feeling sitting low in your gut. astarion is bracing himself on his elbows above you, with obvious effort.
you pull him down to lay atop you; he’s not exceptionally heavy anyway.
❝ i love you, ❞ he sighs, nestling his face, chin still slick with blood, against your collarbone. ❝ and … promise me we can do that again. ❞
author's note: this is a WIP that i actually finished today haha i started this many months ago and picked it back up yesterday. i apologize if you can tell what's old and what's new 🙈 this is a fluffy modern au where the reader and kakashi are elementary school teachers!
pairing: kakashi hatake x fem!reader
warnings: pregnant!reader, no plot just fluff
Hatake Kakashi leans against his wooden desk, waiting patiently for his young students to calm themselves after they'd returned from their lunch period. He's a laid-back teacher that doesn't mind letting his students socialize a tad more than was maybe necessary at times. He learns a lot about the children this way; he studies their friendships, their rivalries, and even some inklings of a crush in a few of them. It sure made planning the seating chart fun, whenever he decided to change things up.
"Naruto!" He says sharply as the fifth-grader held a pair of scissors to the ponytail of a girl that routinely made it clear she didn't like him. Kakashi wasn't exactly a fan of how Ino would exclude the blond boy, but he surely wasn't going to let Naruto cut her long, beautiful platinum hair. The last thing he needed was screaming, and the calls to the parents, then the paperwork... He shudders at the thought of it all.
Naruto scowls at his teacher and stuffs his scissors back into his pencil box, crossing his arms and turning his head so Kakashi can't see his face. It was enough to elicit a soft chuckle from Kakashi, and by then the class had calmed down and focused their attention onto Mr. Kakashi, as he had introduced himself at the beginning of the school year.
"Oh, is it my turn?" He jokes softly before standing tall, hands stuffed into his pockets. "For the rest of the day, we'll be outside and painting with Mrs. Hatake's class."
The classroom erupts into cheers. The most fun they ever got to have during school was when Mr. Kakashi and Mrs. Hatake teamed up. Kakashi held a thin finger to his nose and lips, indicating to his students to hold it down. He smiles pleasantly when even Naruto collectes himself and hushes up.
"Leave all of your belongings and line up by the door; and be quick! We're already late."
"We're always late." Sakura frowns. Kakashi could only wonder why she was upset; perhaps because a certain black-haired boy is in Mrs. Hatake's class?
"Time is merely made up." Kakashi shrugs before leading the way out of the classroom, each student neatly in line. Not even Naruto was willing to see what would happen if he tried misbehaving while they walked through the school; Mr. Kakashi once said that he had eyes on the back of his head and he certainly didn't want to see them!
The kids cheer when they get out of the building and ran towards Mrs. Hatake's class. The newspapers, the paint, the brushes, all of it was already set up and ready to go. The other students are patiently waiting and chatting generally amongst themselves, whereas you, Mrs. Hatake yourself, stand waiting with crossed arms and an unimpressed eyebrow when Kakashi finally approaches.
Kakashi rubs the back of his head, smiling weakly and laughing nervously. "Ah..."
"Save it." You snort and turn to the students. "Alright everyone, settle down! Before we start painting, make sure to put on your aprons so you don't mess up your nice clothes!"
Sakura and Ino both squeal as they rush to collect an apron and make it back to the table before someone could take the spots beside Uchiha Sasuke, who already has an apron on. Naruto runs and picks up two aprons, rushing back to his friend Gaara, who was generally too nervous to involve himself in a crowd. Gaara smiles and thanks his best friend with a strong hug that Naruto's more than eager to return. They really are the cutest boys in the bunch, in your opinion.
When all of the children are ready to go, you pass out thick pieces of paper, talking as you go. "I want you all to paint whatever you want! Your pets, your friends, your favorite superheroes, anything! Just express yourselves today. As long as you turn in a painting, you get a hundred!"
"Yes!" Naruto cheers. He didn't get many hundreds on anything, so he's quite determined to rock this painting activity.
The kids start their paintings, so you and Kakashi settle in your own spots on the benches to paint your own things. You make eye contact and share a small smile, a fluttering feeling in your swollen belly passing by, before getting started. "So what will you be painting, Mr. Kakashi?" You absentmindedly swipe a hand over your baby bump; in just a few more weeks it'll be time for your maternity leave!
"Hmmm, I'm not sure yet, Mrs. Hatake." He hums softly. He sure loves saying your name. "How about you?"
"Well, I'm going to paint my beloved cat Julian." You grin smugly. Oh how Kakashi despises that cat.
"The entire world, and you choose a cat? And not only that, but the dumbest one in this world?" Kakashi narrows his eyes with a scowl. Julian was a good kitty, he could admit that. It's the idiotic antics that the orange fella got up to that irritate him to no end, and he's gotten worse since you got pregnant. He's a bit like Naruto, if he really thinks about it. But Naruto's definitely smarter than that cat, at least.
"Ehhhh?!?!" Footsteps quickly approach you and your husband.
Kakashi's eye twitches before he dares look at the only student who can get that loud. "Naruto! What's wrong?"
And thus begins Naruto's rant about Sasuke, his rival since kindergarten. You laugh softly and rub your lips together in an effort to hold yourself back, continuing on painting your cat while Kakashi stares blankly at his student and tries comprehending why he's so upset about Sasuke improvising and making purple paint with the red and blue paints, since Naruto had stolen the purple paint just to spite Sasuke in the first place.
Perhaps Julian has the edge on Naruto after all.
Even young Gaara, a student of your own, has his head hung in shame with a palm plastered to his face. At that, you couldn't contain your laughter. "Naruto, honey." You chuckle softly. "Why don't you get him back and see what happens when you mix red and yellow?"
Naruto nods roughly and runs back to his seat, and moments later he cheers for his success in the making of his favorite color. Kakashi smiled and looked at you with gentle eyes. "How do you do it?"
"I just think how he would and then go from there." You shrug and glide the paintbrush over the paper. "It doesn't make him feel dumb and he learns something new."
"You'd be better off as his teacher than me."
"I don't know about that one. You have quite the knack for kids, even if your style is different from most." You wink at your husband and quietly continue painting.
Kakashi smiles to himself and begins working on his own canvas, but with his own watercolor set instead. He took some art classes back in college, so he decides to put his skills to the test with this project. Being with you gives him inspiration like that, when otherwise he would just be lazy and draw something simple, like an apple with a worm in it. There were endless reasons why he loved you and married you; the way you made him feel and the confidence you gave him were very high up on that list of answers.
You check your watch and issue a ten-minute warning to the students to finish up so their paintings can dry before they go home for the day, and that they could have a whole hour of recess after you called time. Little hands quickly hurry their brush strokes and reach for different bottles of paint as they perfect their masterpieces.
Kakashi hums softly, intently focusing on his canvas. "I wonder what they've all made." He continues to focus on his artwork, diligently ensuring each stroke of his brush is perfect. Hatake Kakashi had yet to be bad at something in his life, so you already knew whatever he was envisioning was going to come out onto that canvas exactly as planned.
You allow Kakashi the time to continue his work and take on the task of getting each student cleaned up on your own. At their current age, they mostly were able to keep themselves free of the paint, save for a few dots here and there on their hands.
"Naruto..." You sigh, rubbing your face tiredly. Even with an apron that was bigger than his little body, he managed to get paint on his face, arms, and the shoulder of his t-shirt. You already know his mother, Kushina, would tear into him when his father brought him home from school. Minato picks the boy up every day, ever since the incident with Naruto and the mud pies happened when his mother picked him up... She was still fully deserving of her title as the Red-Hot Habanero that she'd been given when you were in grade school with her, you learned that day.
Naruto pouts and averts your gaze. It seemed he was also well aware of his mother's ire, but he just wasn't able to control himself enough to avoid the consequences just yet. You offer your hand and take him inside to clean up, and when you're done he runs to join up with his friends on the playground. "Don't get dirty again!" It was a fruitless demand, but you at least had to try.
"As if that could ever happen." Kakashi snorts. Seemed he'd finished his task while you were cleaning up Naruto.
"All I can do is try." You sigh with a shrug and start walking around the tables to get a look at everyone's artwork.
You pause in front of Sasuke's canvas. With a deep sigh, your hand absentmindedly moves over your heart, the other coming to rub against where your baby's just kicked you. Sasuke's painted himself with a first-aid kit in one hand and a medical degree in the other, a big smile on his face. His dream is to become a doctor and cure the disease that's befallen his elder brother, Itachi. You were Itachi's teacher as well when he was Sasuke's age, and to think that a bright young boy like him would become too frail and sick to achieve his true potential was enough to bring tears to your eyes. Sasuke is determined to cure his big brother, and you know nothing will stand in his way.
"Hopefully he's given the chance." Kakashi murmurs, looking at the painting from over your shoulder. He presses a swift kiss to the back of your head, snaking a hand around your midsection to hold your body to his, running his hand over your belly in a wide, swift stroke before he continues his journey around the table.
Gaara painted himself and Naruto playing at the beach, building a sandcastle together. Sakura and Ino both painted themselves holding hands with Sasuke, though you could tell they'd sabotaged one another by swirling green paint through each other's drawings of themselves. You sigh and shake your head; you really hope one day they'll grow out of their rivalry that merely exists because of a boy of all people and become wonderful women with their own motivations. And if they don't, they are set to be in for one tough ride with Mrs. Tsunade Senju when they got to high school.
"Choji needs a hobby." Kakashi muses. The boy's canvas reflects a rather delicious looking meal, but then again, that's what he always turns in for artwork projects.
"Eating is his hobby." You snicker, gazing at Shikamaru's work of art, a lazy attempt at drawing the sky. The paper is simply painted blue, with a yellow circle for the sun and puffy clouds outlined in black. He hadn't even filled in the clouds with white paint! "Shikamaru could use some of Choji's inspiration, that's for sure."
"Sure..." Kakashi keeps eyeing Choji's artwork. "Let's go out for dinner tonight." He murmurs.
"Only if you're buying."
Your husband shrugs noncommittally. "It's a date."
You smile and move beside him, squeaking softly when he puts his arm around you and pulls you into his side, a large hand rubbing the side of the swollen tummy housing his child. "'Kashi…"
"Hmmm?" He hums, not taking his eyes off the students as they play on the playground.
"PDA, with the students so close?"
It isn't a secret you two are married. Of course all of the staff know about it; you two married just one year after you started working at Konoha Elementary. You met in and dated throughout college, and now you're heavily pregnant with your first child together. Hell, if the students were astute enough to put two and two together when they learned both of your last names, they could have figured it out themselves ages ago. In every school year there's eventually a turning point where the students realize your relationship; so far this particular set of students haven't figured it out.
"Shhh... Enjoy the moment. One day that'll be our little darling out there. Playing with their friends..." Kakashi's dark eyes are practically swimming in eagerness and pride. He has such high hopes for the baby, and plans to help them succeed in any way possible. Hatake Kakashi had yet to be bad at something in his life, and he won't let insecurities with himself and his relationship with his father cloud his ability to care for his own child.
You laugh softly. "Not for quite some time, 'Kashi. They aren't even born yet!"
"Time is made up, but it passes in the blink of an eye." He mumbles, eyes still carefully watching the kids.
"You do have a point." You hum and keep a watchful eye over the students, allowing them to play without interruption.
After some time, you cup your hands around your mouth. "Alright everyone, let's come and present our pictures!"
The students eagerly run back over and sit in front of their now dried paintings. "You don't all have to present, but those that do want to are encouraged to do so!" You smile sweetly at all those little faces. This bunch of kids are so special. They're so smart and silly and good friends to one another. It's been a while since you liked a class this much.
Naruto leads the charge, naturally, and then various students volunteer to share after. Everyone gets a turn to present, and you rub your belly as you show the kids your painting. "This is my kitty, Julian!"
"He's so cute!" Sakura squeals. You grin and put your picture down, thanking the class as they compliment your artwork.
"Does anyone else want to share?"
"Mr. Kakashi, I wanna see yours! You never share!" Ino pouts, crossing her arms.
The rest of the kids cheer and pout with her, demanding to see what he spent so long working on. Kakashi laughs nervously and runs his fingers through his silver hair, cheeks tinged red. He glances at you and you smile softly, nodding encouragingly. He carefully picks up his watercolor work and holds it up for the class.
"Wooooooow…" The students hum in harmony, amazed at what a great job their teacher did.
He's put extra care into this, that much is obvious. It's of a very pregnant woman holding hands with a silver-haired man, the both of them smiling. You wipe a stray tear from your eye and rub at your belly, gazing at your husband with all the love in your heart.
"Hey…" Naruto cocks his head, perking a brow. "Mr. Kakashi, that looks like you!"
"It is." Kakashi responds simply.
"And…" His lips twist as he puts the pieces together. But ultimately it's Shikamaru that figures it out.
His eyes go wide with shock. "That's him and Mrs. Hatake!"
"How is that weird??" Kakashi holds his hands up, failing to fight his urge to laugh at the accusation.
"You're making it seem like…" Sasuke starts quietly, and Gaara finishes his sentence. "Like you love Mrs. Hatake."
"Well, I do love her. She is my wife, after all."
You, frankly, were not prepared for all of the screaming. Laughter bubbles out of you as the kids crowd around, asking questions a mile a minute and looking between you and your husband like you suddenly sprouted tails. Kakashi can't even hide his amusement and does his best to answer all of the questions.
"We met in college."
"We've been married for five years."
"I did not tell a single lie to you guys. You just never asked my last name."
"Yes, I've heard her fart."
"Thaaaaaat's enough." You scowl at your laughing husband. "Time to head back inside for dismissal."
"Awww…" The kids hang their heads low and pick up their paintings, lining up to go back inside. You and Kakashi lead the way back, your classrooms across the hall from each other.
Kakashi smirks and sneaks in a quick kiss to your lips, which prompts the students to lose it once again. You snort and pat his cheek twice, perhaps with a little more force than normal as revenge, and then move into your classroom.
Kakashi laughs to himself and does the same, his chest light and happy. And once the students have left the building, he meets you in your classroom, leaning on the doorframe and watching you quickly fill in the perfect scores in your gradebook. You glance over and blow him a kiss, which he catches and places into his shirt pocket.
"So, where are you taking me?" You ask, filing away the book and gathering your purse.
"I was thinking ramen?"
"Hmm, I like that train of thought. Might keep you around just a bit longer now."
Kakashi chuckles, stepping towards you with his hands in his pockets and a small smirk on his face. "Just a bit?"
"Might let you stay longer if you rub my feet tonight." You purr with a little laugh, taking his extended hand so you can stand up easier. Kakashi wastes no time in capturing your lips, rubbing your swollen baby bump with both hands and massaging lightly. He's always been clear with his love, but ever since your belly started growing bigger and bigger, he's been unable to stop himself from showering you with more and more love and attention.
"If that's what it takes…" He says against your lips, kissing you for a moment more before he continues. "I'll rub anything you want for the rest of my days."
You smile against him and rub his chest. "C'mon. Get me outta here already; this bra can't come off soon enough."
Your husband smirks and pulls at the clasps through your shirt, somehow unlatching the three hooks. You gasp, affronted at the audacity of that man. Kakashi, however, howls in laughter as his long legs rush him out the room and towards the car, his silver hair falling in his eyes as you're helpless to chase him in your current state. You shake your head with a small chuckle and lock up the classroom before heading out yourself.
That's alright, You think to yourself.
Just for that he's grading all my kid's homework next week!
Gods, she looked beautiful. All in white and soft florals - you couldn’t believe it really, little Hinata who would faint every time Naruto so much as looked at her would now standing beside him as his wife. He scrubbed up well, Naruto, you had gone with him and Iruka to get his wedding outfit fitted and insisted he get his hair cut for the day too. You’d never be his mother, just as Iruka would never be his father. But you two had tried, you had been the one to feed the screeching blonde baby his 3am bottles in between ANBU missions and eventually had taught alongside Iruka in the Academy. Seeing him now, with the sweet girl who’d bring you lilacs every day as a gift with a shy nod, having said their vows and exchanged rings, you had never been more thankful for sacrifices made along the way.
You also felt old. Even though you were only 27.
The reception began in earnest, guests greeting the beaming couple and Iruka standing beside Hinata’s father thanking passers by.
Having taught all of the kids in the academy, being close to Naruto and soon becoming Lady Fifth’s right hand woman beside Shizune - these kids felt just like yours. You’d mopped up their blood, dried their tears as anyone would for their kids.
You had spent so much time with them, made them take their medicine, trained with them, studied with them, mediated petty arguments (Ino and Sakura) and mended broken hearts with them. Of course, there was also the other reason.
The 6ft, silver haired reason standing in the corner. Your best friend since childhood, your Shinobi partner, your partner in crime and the love of your life.
Not that the last part came to light until about 3 months ago, when before the final battle arrived you woke up realising you might die tomorrow. He might die tomorrow. Life was too short, you’d lost too many people to forsake this chance - even though his fear of losing people he loved, and your fear of losing your other half was what kept that unspoken gap between you all these years. How you came to get together after almost 25 years of pining was a story for another day, however, because today was Hinata and Naruto’s day.
You could see Sakura, in the distance - she’d intercepted a messenger bird and pulled the scroll from its foot, and you saw her smile. Only one person can make your Sakura smile like that. Sasuke. On his journey of atonement, who knows where - but still thinking of Naruto, and Sakura. His friends. His family.
Sai stood hand in hand with Ino, a genuine smile on his face and love in both their eyes. A blushing, wait, blushing Temari stood beside Shikamaru - when did that happen? You all knew it was coming, but didn’t know it had happened. Tsunade caught your eye and winked, raising a glass of champagne in your direction. Shino and Kiba were monitoring Rock Lee and Gai who were causing mild havoc and Choji was at the Hor D’Ouvres already. TenTen stood near Kurenai and Mirai. So many loved ones, but too many missing. Neji should be here for this. Jiraiya would be so proud.
You watch the Kazekage make conversation with Kakashi who looks absolutely miserable among so many people, and you decide to save him. You grab Sai as you walk towards the Hokage and Gaara of the Desert.
“Lord Kazekage, thank you again so much for attending today. It means very much to Naruto to have you here with him today. Hinata too, although I suppose I can just call them the Uzumaki’s now! I believe you were speaking about a memorial portrait for your office, Lord Kazakage? Sai here is our finest artist, perhaps you could speak on the matter?” You interject, with levels of diplomacy you only gathered watching Tsunade daily.
“Indeed, I’m grateful to be here to witness a dear friend’s happy day. Sai, would you speak with me about…” Gaara speaks, wandering away with Sai beside him. An odd pair, one you knew would be busy making incredibly strange conversation for some time.
You glance at Kakashi, a wry smile on your face.
“Better?” You snicker, taking your place beside him.
“Infinitely. The second Naruto can string a sentence together without saying ‘Believe it!’ I’m giving him the hat. I hate all this talking.” He grumbles.
“Even to me?” You act offended.
He just gives you that adorable eye smile, lips quirking under his mask.
“Never to you.” He says, voice quieter, softer.
“You really do look very handsome today, Lord Sixth.” You smile, fixing the lapels of his jacket. He rolls his eyes.
“Not even half worthy of standing beside you, sweetheart. Y’look beautiful today, everyday but today - that’s something else.” He smirks.
“Oh hush you, you told me how nice I looked for 15 minutes this morning.” You huff.
“I believe I showed you how nice I thought you looked too, 3 times before we left the apartment.” He snickered, knowing the images of your tangled limbs in the bedsheets making you almost late would infiltrate your mind again, causing a flush across your cheeks.
“Kashi, gods, we were already nearly late - we can’t go sneaking off to a broom closet now and that’s how this will go if you keep talking like that.” You glance at the sky, trying to clear your mind.
You both laugh at the scene in front of you as Gai and Rock begin doing various exercises and TenTen just rolls her eyes. Everyone looks so beautiful, so happy. The aura of calm and peace surrounding everyone is a reminder of why you came back from the war with many new scars. It was worth it. Seeing these kids, who really deserved a better world - actually living it was more than any of you dreamed.
“Did you see Shikamaru and Temari hooked up?” You elbow your boyfriend.
“Finally. I thought his lazy ass would never do anything about it.” He snorted.
“Bets on it was all Temari.” You respond and he shakes your hand to seal the deal.
“Sakura got a message from Sasuke too.” He chimes in.
“Sai asked me to help pick a ring for Ino too.” You remember shopping with him, in awe of how much of a romantic this boy turned out to be.
There’s silence for a moment between you both.
“Who do you think will be next?” Kakashi asks you.
“For what?”
“To get married.”
“Temari and Shikamaru probably. Ino will want to plan a wedding properly, and I think we’re still a while off Sakura and Sasuke. Who knows, maybe Gai will find his partner in the grand spirit of youth?” You respond.
He huffs a laugh, but doesn’t reply.
“Why, was that not who you thought?” You question him.
“Nah.” He shrugs.
“Who do you think will get married next then?” You poke his cheek.
“Us.” He looks at you, unfazed.
You blink.
And blink again.
He just stares at you.
“Is that a proposal, Lord Sixth?” You think he’s joking, so you play along.
“I suppose so.” He nods.
Oh my god, he’s being serious.
“Kashi - are you - do you mean that?” You ask, breathless and grasp his hand.
“You used to say you didn’t want a fancy proposal. Just for someone to say they want to marry you. I want to marry you. The rings at home.” His smile is soft, imperceptible to anyone but you.
You turn to face him, smile bright and lash line glistening with tears.
“You busy tomorrow, Hatake?” You ask, a laugh interrupting.
“Shikamaru can take care of business, you got plans?”
“Wanna get married?”
He just smiles, and glances around to make sure nobodies watching before slipping his mask down and pressing a kiss to the corner of your lips.
“It’s a date.” His voice is wavering slightly.
“Let’s keep it quiet. It’s not our day. Hinata and Naruto leave for their honeymoon tonight.” You whisper to him.
“Tomorrow we’ll ask Gai and Kurenai to meet us at the courthouse. It can be just us four. Then I’ll take Mrs. Hatake home.” He nods, and your heart seizes at the sound of you being Mrs. Hatake within 24 hours.
“I love you, ‘Kashi.”
“I love you too, sweetheart.” He says, pressing a masked kiss to your inner wrist.
“SAKURAAAAA-CHAN! LOOK AT KAKASHI-SENSEI AND Y/N-SENSEI! THEY ARE SO CUTE!” Ino’s voice echoes.
“Some things never change.” You laugh as Kakashi grimaces.
Okay okay, I finally have an idea! Kakashi's love languages: can be fluff, can be smut, or just a mix.
The request is either: what are Kakashi's love languages and how does he show them, or the five times Kakashi showed you his love language through:
words of affirmation
acts of service
gifts
quality time
physical touch
...and that time he received those languages back! Hahahaha enjoy😂💕 Thank you bby 😘
A/N: Heeeey Topsy 💕 ohhhhh okay okay this is interesting I like this idea so for sure I can do this for you lovely. Aha thank you 💕 I did a mix of both fluff and smut!
TAGS: love languages, fluff, smut, under the cut is smut, it got real sappy sweet and deep in some parts, this is very long lmao
CHARACTERS: Kakashi Hatake
WORDS OF AFFIRMATION
When Kakashi is younger he is short and harsh. The only words akin to praise you'll get out of him is something along the lines of 'I guess that was tolerable.' in terms of you holding your own as a shinobi or 'I guess your presence is tolerable.' if you aren't a shinobi.
That's glowing praise from him back then.
As he grows older his words are softer, more meaningfully affirming.
'Good job.' Finds his lips more and more. He finds it doesn't feel so uncomfortable anymore—praising you.
He thanks you for things often too. Kakashi knows all to well that simple appreciation for things can come to late. He always wants to make sure you know he's thankful for you.
My god is he thankful for you.
There's also the more teasing natured strung together moments.
'Yes just like that.' The words are thick and sweet like honey on his tongue. 'You're so good, mmm, feels so good.'
Kakashi spreads his fingers through your hair as you take more of his cock deeper into your mouth.
'All for me.' He doesn't mean to pull your hair so hard but the love he has for you spurs on a wave of possessiveness he didn't know he had. 'All mine.'
It's moments like these, when he's so vulnerable that he finds he can't shut up and the words just spill out.
'You look so good ah—' he grunts and hunches forward, 'so good taking me like this.'
You look up at him through heavy lashes, moaning a little with his cock still in your mouth. The vibrations cause him to shudder and if it weren't for the mouthful you'd be smirking.
Another deep throat and vibrating moan and Kakashi is cumming, words of praise falling from his lips the entire time.
From you the words of affirmation are a must.
Kakashi thrives on them even if he doesn't realise it as first. He can just get so down on himself that it can really bring him to life at times even if he doesn't alway believe it. He needs to hear it.
The first time you told him you love him he doesn't believe it.
The two of you are at your apartment. It's somewhere he can leave because you know sometimes it gets a bit much for him and he needs space.
You're standing in the kitchen together laughing about something and you feel it. You want to say it even if he doesn't quite feel that way yet. You want him to know.
'I love you.'
There's a pregnant pause.
The laughters stopped and you can hear a pin drop the tension is palpable.
Kakashi is frozen like a statue. The one visable eye is wide and you can see the fear behind it. But you had expected this, you knew him after all, it has been this way the entire relationship.
You always took one step at a time, forward and holding your hand out to him to let him know it's safe to follow.
'It's alright.' You say, soft smile across your lips. 'I just wanted to tell you because it's how I feel. I'm not expecting anything.'
His shoulders relax a little and he takes a deep breath.
He takes a minute.
'Sorry.' He finally says. 'I shouldn't need to process that. But—'
'It's okay.'
He sighs, looking toward the balcony door.
'You can go.' You assure. 'I'll be here when you're ready.'
'Sorry.' Is all he says before he disappears into the village.
Later that night when you're tucked in bed you're jolted awake with Kakashi hovering over you, sitting on the edge of the mattress.
'Is everything alr—'
'Thank you.' He quickly says before adding. 'For being so good with me even though I'm so...' He groans and collapses on top of you.
You chuckle and stroke his hair.
Kakashi pushes himself up and stares down at you intently.
'I love you too.' He says with such confidence it overwhelms you. 'I knew it the second you said it, I don't know why I couldn't just say it then but I'm saying it now so—'
You grab him by the collar of his shirt and kiss him.
ACTS OF SERVICE
Kakashi is the kind of person who makes sure you're eating healthy and balanced meals. Will cook for you when he's home. Since he learnt at a young age (cries the angst!) he's had a lot of experience doing it and it makes him happy to cook for more than one person.
Will learn your favourite recipes and foods and incorporate them into his cooking routines.
Teaches you how to cook if you don't know. Is willing to swap recipes and skills if you do know. Likes sharing this with you along with the reasons behind why he had to learn to cook for himself. It takes time for him to share this though.
If he's busy doing missions or Hokage things he doesn't always get time to clean much but when he does get time he likes to surprise you by doing the house cleaning chores.
Will also spoil you every now and again with surprise trips to the hotsprings to give you some time to relax and unwind.
Kakashi is the kind of guy to just do things unprompted anyway. Things like cleaning, cooking, taking out the trash.
VERY BIG on service in the bedroom too. A very big communicator there. Will look for cues to make sure you're getting pleasure but also asks like 'You like that?' and 'Tell me what you want?'
Tell him to go down on you and he will. Sometimes will deadass just do it if you look like you could use the release (with your consent of course). He's the kind of lover who can get you off and be fine leaving it there.
One time he came back from a mission and he went down on you and made you cum three times with his mouth and hands. He ended up cumming in his pants with a little bit of friction from his hand because he was so turned on just watching and tending to you.
With you it's doing little things to help him out when you can.
Getting a lunch to him when he is Hokage whether its homemade or bought because it gets him to stop work and eat BUT it's also a chance to spend quality time together.
Tidying up his clothes and pack after he's just come back from a mission and feels dead to the world.
Helping him wash either in the bath or shower. It's just something to unwind but also if he's exhausted it genuinely does help him clean without the effort.
Doing the laundry for him so it's one thing less to do. It just piles up so quickly.
Cooking extra food on the days you cook breakfast even though he said he would cook dinner just in case he is too tired or comes home too late. That way there's something to eat in the fridge and he doesn't feel guilty. You just know him.
When he's had a long week and you don't have plans tomorrow and he's in the mood? Just pining him down and showing him a good time. Really taking your time and kissing each spot. Slowly dragging out that hand job. Edging him a little. Turning it into a blowjob. Giving him the best orgasm of his life. Then the best sex of his life. And another amazing time with both of you cumming hard.
GIFTS
Kakashi doesn't give gifts often. At least not grand or regular gifts often.
There's the odd lunch here and there in the early days or food item in general. It's always under guise of making sure you're eating healthy too. Which is half true. He did just want to give something to you too.
Honestly he would probably get a bunch of fish half off or something and think it's a great gift to give you some BECAUSE WHAT A STEAL? How could he not share this with you? lmao he's a dork okay he's not some suave guy, I'm sorry.
Probably gifts practical things too. Like tea sets or rice cookers. You don't have a rice cooker? He's getting you one lmao.
If he did get you something though it would be something hand crafted like a braded strap or something that could go around your wrist like a bracelet or neck like a necklace. Something that fit your taste.
Kakashi is also not the best at receiving gifts that aren't of a practical nature because he feels he doesn't deserve them and feels that they ought to be for occassions anyway. Generally prefers inexpensive gifts for himself.
If you give him things of a similar nature of what he's given you then he'll be really happy. Appreciates it a lot.
Gifting him food things is the way into his heart. Home cooked meals really get his heart racing. The first time you gifted him food he thought he was going to overheat he was blushing so hard.
Enjoys a good bottle of sake now and then too.
There was one birthday of his where you spoiled him with food and a trip to the hotsprings. Then when you came home you gave him one last gift which was you. Lets just say he died and went to heaven that night.
QUALITY TIME
Kakashi really likes quality time with you as long as you don't expect quantity time since he is quite busy. When it's just the two of you though he's all about you.
He really relies on spending time with you to ground him.
Quality time with you means he gets to unwind, relax and just be himself without anything else getting in the way. It's when he's the happiest. It's the thing he looks forward to the most.
It doesn't matter what the two of you are doing as long as you're together. He does make a habit of making sure to at least treat you out every now and again. He'd hate for you to feel like you're always stuck at home with him all the time. He braces the village night life and lunch dates for you.
It's how the two of you combined love for food and each other together. Date times out at food places every now and again become a hit. Trying different dishes. Judging whether or not Kakashi can replicate them.
Sometimes it is just spending time at home and taking the time to cook together, bathe together and have some pillow talk together.
Long, slow make outs on the couch while Kakashi tells you about his day. He'll kiss your neck then tell you about what Shikamaru said about some reports. You'll pull his hair, snort and say something back. The ultimate multitasking team.
You make sure to visit him in the Hokage office on days you know he won't make it back home until late. Sometimes you'll just stay there for awhile and help out.
You call yourself his unofficial assistant.
'Where does this document go?' You ask sitting on his desk.
'Hmm?' Kakashi takes a moment, reading the rest of his scroll before looking up. 'Oh those can go on that pile there for Shikamaru when he comes back.'
'Right.'
You sort the document, along with the others of the same category into the pile mentioned.
'When is he coming back?'
Kakashi doesn't look up. 'Hopefully not for awhile. I fear he's going to bring even more documents if he does.'
An idea pops into your head as you swing your legs over to his side of the desk. It doesn't go unnoticed by him. His brow raising as he continues to read through the scroll in his hand.
'Since we're all alone...' You begin, trailing off suggestively.
Kakashi looks up at you uncertain. 'Yes?'
'Perhaps we could...help you relax a little?'
'Oh?' Kakashi places the scroll down and sits back. 'And how are we going to do that?
He looks at you already amused.
You slide down from the desk and place your hands on his shoulders. Inching closer, your thighs shuffling either side of his as you come to stand over him.
'Mmm, I have a few ideas.'
You sit down onto his lap causing him to gasp on impact.
Before he can get a word out your lips are on his. In seconds his hands are on your waist. Instead of pulling you off he's pulling you closer and kissing you harder.
PHYSICAL TOUCH
Probably Kakashi's main love language. A lot of the times words just fail him and he's just seeking out your touch and needs to show you his love through physical means.
Kisses your temple after pulling you by the waist. Kisses your forehead with his hands resting just above your hips. Dragging his lips down your neck when he can't get enough of your scent, he just needs to keep them against your skin.
Then there's those mornings when he wakes up pressed against your back. His nose is in your hair nuzzling and brushing down your back. He presses kisses across your shoulder. His hands find that dip in your waist.
He wonders if your body was sculpted just for him. That all these grooves and contours were specifically put here for him to touch and feel and knead.
Taking your skin between his fingers he grinds against your backside, breathing hot air against your ear.
The pads of his fingers push down and splay out as they move across your stomach and pull you further against him. He can hear you moan as your hand joins his, your body pushing back rutting in time.
Mornings are bliss when you two can just get lost in the touch.
The rest of the world is an afterthought.
Then there's the more innocent touches that mean everything.
Your hand cupping Kakashi's cheek. Your thumb tenderly brushing against the apple of it, gently letting him know that you're there. That you love him.
The way your hand finds his so effortlessly. Whether it's at home on the couch while you read or down the busy streets of Konoha while your browse for produce. It's simple but full of love. It says 'You're mine and I'm yours.'
The way you kiss his lips then bite the bottom one in a frenzy of lust on he knows. The way you taste his blood between his teeth.
Kakashi doesn't mind though. His heart beats for you. His blood is yours too.
As is the way you run your fingers through his hair after a long day. The way you wrap your arms around his core when he walks through the door. Or the way you pinch his cheeks after being salty about something.
Kakashi finds he always craves your touch. Your warmth. Your love. Your arms, your lips and your touch are home.
