lauren ˚. ᵎᵎ

The pillow you threw at him falls to the ground with a dull thud, and you stick your tongue out, softly blowing a raspberry as he tugs your legs in retaliation. He narrows his eyes in amusement and smirks as you shriek, murmuring under his breath something half-hearted about women you don't care enough to dignify. Instead, you turn your sights to Lane's small flatscreen, where the PS3's startup screen begins to play.

"Devil May Cry 4? Seriously?" He stares boredly at the screen, one arm propped on your calf to hold up his chin, while the other traces absent shapes on the skin of your thigh. He can't help but stare at the rim of your shorts, catching the smallest glimpse of your underwear before you shift your legs.

Damn.

He sighs through his nose, leaning over your legs to finish the rest of your beer in a single dramatic chug just because he can.

Silence falls over the two of you, broken only by the sounds of Nero's grunts and the quiet clack of buttons as you aggressively handle his controller.

It doesn't take long at all until his hands start to wander. It's innocent enough at first, just a few lingering touches ghosting across your exposed skin. But then he's skirting around the hem of your shorts, the tips of his fingers brushing beneath the lifted fabric, just barely low enough to be considered decent, but high enough to make his intentions clear.

"Lane."

He shudders at the tone of your voice—the exasperation entwined closely with affection, and how it drips from your lips like sin itself.

God, the way you say his name should be considered a crime with how much he's willing to do to get you to say it again.

He grins at your suspicion with a shrug of his shoulders, the edges of his smile holding the familiar traces of what you've come to pinpoint as desire.

Your eyes narrow when they clash with clouded blue, the undeniable heat behind them sending a shiver down your spine. Trying to close your legs proves fruitless as he slots himself between them like he belongs there, tossing your legs over his broad shoulders.

"What are you doing?"

Fuck, you look so good beneath him with your shirt—his shirt, the possessive part of his brain preens—riding up to expose your stomach, your lips parted as your breaths get heavier, and your eyes beginning to glaze with a hunger only he has the power to satiate. He licks his lips, chuckling lowly when you imitate the action.

His palm travels over the newly revealed skin, resting just where your shorts meet your navel, while the corners of his grin sharpen into the cocky smirk you've grown to look forward to every shift. He leans down to kiss you, deceptively soft, but it's quick to devolve into a desperate clash of tongue and teeth, leaving you breathless when he pulls away suddenly, your lips connected by a thin string of spit that glimmers beneath his TV's blue light. You blink blearily as his other thumb swipes across your lips, eye twitching at his cocksure smile with an almost dejected scoff.

"I'm not doing anything, baby, just keep playing." The way he kisses the bend of your knee doesn't exactly feel like nothing, and the metal of his piercings is cold against your flushed skin, sending cold chills throughout the rest of your body. But still, you turn back to the TV, doing your best to focus as his thumb dips beneath the elastic of your shorts. He pulls experimentally, letting the band snap against your waist whilst he caresses your stomach.

His lips leave wet bruises along your inner thighs. "Tell me to stop, and I will," his voice an uncharacteristically soft murmur against the most recent of his love bites.

You don't look away from the screen once. "If you stop Lane, I'll smother you with a fucking pillow."

He snorts loudly, biting hard enough to draw a yelp from you. "Always violence with you women," he tuts, licking gently at the bruise in an attempt to soothe. You roll your eyes, trying to focus on your input commands while Lane works you out of your shorts and underwear in one smooth movement, tossing the garments haphazardly over his shoulder with little regard to whether you'd find them later.

Your legs try to close, more so out of instinct than insecurity, but Lane's hands pry them apart gently, exposing your glistening cunt to his greedy gaze.

He nearly groans at the sight, using his thumbs to part your folds. "Look at you…So wet, and I haven't even touched you yet. Need me that bad, princess?"

"Fuck you." You hate how pitched your voice comes out, all breathless and needy, just the way he loves it. The controller in your hands nearly cracks in two when he laughs, the heat of his breath telling of just how close he's gotten.

He shifts slightly, settling against the couch when you spare him a heady glance. "Go on," he goads with that godforsaken smirk of his while he rests his cheek on your trembling thigh, "just keep playing. You suck ass, though."

You open your mouth to retort, but the only thing that comes out is a soft gasp of surprise when he licks a slow stripe up your pussy, his lips closing around your clit as he begins to suckle relentlessly. His hands hold you open, arms wound tightly around your thighs with a rare show of strength, leaving you at his mercy as you squirm in his grasp.

Still, you do your best to fight through the hordes of enemies, trying with little avail to ignore the wet squelches of Lane's tongue disappearing inside you. It only gets worse when he pushes his middle finger in, lapping at your swollen clit like a man depraved. The pace he sets is punishing, each flick of his wrist a silent promise of what's to come.

Blindly reaching down, you grab at his hair with a shaking hand, whether it's to pull him closer or push him away, neither of you cares.

"Shit…How are you still so tight? Can barely fit two fingers in you, baby." He groans against you as he pushes in his ring finger right next to the middle one, a snug fit, but the burn hurts so good. You keen at the feeling, dropping the controller completely in favor of tangling your hands in his hair.

"Lane…" The sound of your voice calling out to him so sweetly has him almost rutting pathetically into the couch cushions.

"That's right," he growls between obscene slurps, "say my name." He curls his fingers, deliberately hitting that soft little spot he's had mapped out since your first time sleeping together.

Your whines taper off into drawn-out moans with a vague similarity to his name, the warmth in your stomach spreading to the tips of your toes as your legs begin to close around his head.

"You're close, aren't you?" You can feel the smugness of his grin through the haze of pleasure, making the mistake of meeting eyes from between your legs. His face is flushed red, clear blue eyes crinkled at the edges with his trademark lazy arrogance, whilst you fall apart above him bit by bit. "Then cum."

The snap of pleasure inside of you has your back arching off the couch and away from him, Lane's shirt clinging to your sweat-soaked body like a second skin.

"L-Lane!" You pant, weakly grasping at his wrist, but barely slowing his movements as he cleans up the remnants of your orgasm with slow yet calculated strokes of his tongue. Only when you stop trembling does he pull his fingers out, whistling at the sheen of slick that coats his fingers as he slowly spreads them in front of you. His face fares no better—coated in cum that drips from his jaw onto his graphic tee.

The bastard doesn't even bother wiping his face, cleaning what he can with his tongue before capturing your lips in a disorienting kiss that you can't help but melt into. You feel the heat of him through his sweats as he grinds against you, the weight of his cock alone reigniting the need inside you once more.

He makes quick work of your shirt, shoving down the cups of your bra to palm at your tits. His fingers tweak at the perked nipples, tugging and twisting them in a way that has you arching into the touch, your head thrown back against the couch's armrest.

"You-you're so annoying, you know that?" Your eyes narrow at him, but your lip is caught between your teeth as you bite back another whimper.

"Yeah, yeah, tell me something I don't know, princess. Plus, you're the one who came over to my place," he rolls his eyes, tossing his shirt in the same forgotten pile as the rest of your other clothes, "condom or no condom."

"No condom…"

"Sorry, what was that? You're gonna have to speak up, pretty girl."

You're going to kill him. Right now.

If only you knew how attractive Lane found you right now, maybe then you'd curb your judgment.

"Kidding, now turn around for me, yeah?" He kisses the crease between your brows, not giving you much of a choice as he manhandles you onto your knees, your forearms propped over the armrest. You hear the rustle of fabric behind you, followed swiftly by a familiar nudge against your clit. Lane's hand holds you steady by the hip as you jolt, slowly sliding through your folds before finally pushing in.

"Breathe, pretty." He presses kisses along your back, ghosting his hands up your sides, and down your arms to ground both you and himself. He's trying, really, he is, to let you adjust, but holy shit, you're tight, debilitatingly so. He can feel the control slipping with every passing moment.

An eternity had to have passed before you're calling out his name like a siren's call. Don't you know what that does to guys like him?

"You can move."

And like the love-blinded sailor he is, he answers, first with a shallow grind that makes you push against him, pleading for more—for harder, then he's pulling out and thrusting back into the hilt, tearing a scream from your throat loud enough to have the neighbors looking for new listings.

You feel your knees buckle as your feet kick up, brushing against his thighs as he pummels into you from behind. His hands hold you up, their grip nearly bruising to keep you from collapsing.

He watches you shudder with every thrust with an expression that can only be described as self-satisfactory.

Nobody on this planet could make you feel the way he did.

Especially not that punk ass biker who always acted like he had some sort of weird claim on you. Last he checked, it was his name that you moaned out, and his cock that turned your brain into a fucked-out mess.

"Shit—keep clenching like that," he pants out, head hanging low as his pace becomes more erratic.

His name falls from your lips like it's the only word you've ever learned, woven between a slew of moans and whimpers that's making it substantially for Lane not to bust every second.

You feel the cold press of his nipple piercings against your back when his breath fans your ear, one of his hands falling from your hip to rub deep circles on your clit, which twitches from overstimulation.

"I'm gonna cum inside, alright?" He bites the lobe of your ear softly, pinning you to the couch with his weight. It creaks with every heavy thrust, clearly not built for someone of yours and Lane's libido.

You only nod frantically in response, your breath hitching at your own impending peak. "Lane, I'm close—!"

"I know, baby, I know. Let go for me, I've got you."

What could have only been described as pure ecstasy explodes beneath your skin, setting each one of your nerves alight as you orgasm with a strangled cry of Lane's name. It's not long until tears of overstimulation well in your eyes and blur your vision at the corners as he chases his own high, his face buried in the crook of your neck, and breathing in the smell of you.

The hand that had been rubbing your clit finds one of your hands, intertwining your fingers together tightly when his peak finally crests, filling you with enough cum to leak onto the couch when he pulls out.

He lies back with you on his chest for a moment, allowing his nerves to settle before stalking off with a yawn. He returns with a soft towel and a glass of water, wiping you down with enough thoughtfulness for you to think someone replaced your boyfriend while he was out.

He does not appreciate that comment and deliberately gives a rough wipe to your oversensitive cunt with a blank stare.

You kick him in the chest lightly, and he staggers back like he's been shot. With a fond roll of your eyes, you bend down to pick up the fallen controller as "Abandon All Hope" flashes periodically on the screen. "You're actually the worst, you know that?"

"Yeah, but you love me."

"Unfortunately."

He steels his face, but you see his lips curling up. "You're the most troublesome princess I've ever had the pleasure of meeting," he says, then, without letting you get another word in, he kisses you again.

"Your highness—

A maid stumbles when she sees you pressed up against the wall. For a moment, she simply stares. Her eyes widen, though, when Bruce's body tenses like he's ready for battle. 

"My apologies, my lady," she squeaks, gathering her skirts and fleeing as if her life depended on it.

Bruce's forehead falls against yours. 

"She must be new," you offer. 

He grunts. 

"Still, you didn't have to scare the poor thing," you add, your arms wrapping around his neck.

He tilts his head until his eyes meet yours. To your surprise, there's amusement lingering in them. "I didn't—

Distant voices cut him off. A long-suffering sigh leaves him.

"I heard the king granted the princess a plaything," one of the guards began, his voice carrying through the quiet hall.

Silence. 

"It's him, isn't it? Wayne?" 

Bruce—already knowing you well enough—puts his hand over your mouth to muffle your incessant giggling. 

The other guard speaks up, his voice deeper and older. "Yeah, the bastard probably pissed in the king's goblet."

The other one snorts as their footsteps get louder and louder. Your body shakes, and Bruce tries his very best to keep you quiet, but the guards spot you anyway. 

Their steps slow. The older one reaches for his sword as he takes in Bruce's hand over your mouth. 

"Sir Wayne," he says carefully. "I think it would be wise for you to remove your hand from her highness."

Bruce closes his eyes.

"Her highness prefers it this way." Is all he gives in return before his hand leaves your mouth, and suddenly you're being lifted into his arms, heat blooming across your cheeks at the improper way he carries you away.

"Next, we shall try the gardens," you tell him, cheek pressed against his chest.

Bruce doesn't bother arguing. 

He doesn’t glance over often towards you, your comfortable slump into the covers forcing his mind to focus so he can hurry up and join you and let you press yourself into his side… Damn it, now he’s just distracted again, his eyes wandering over to your figure as you lay comfortably ontop of the fabric.

“You’re staring again, amore.”

“I am.”

It’s a short teasing answer that makes your gaze drag from your book to catch his side-tracked dark eyes, focused fully on you when you shift to stand up and place the book down onto the soft covers.

The report is completely forgotten about when you reach his side, his hands immediately moving to catch your waist to drag you onto his lap, a faint smile tugging at his lips when you roll your eyes with a small quiet question.

“Aren’t you working, love?”

“I was… You’re tormenting me.”

“I haven’t even done anything yet.”

His deep dismissive hum lingers for a second when your lips brush his, his eyes fluttering closed while he enjoys the faint contact of your skin against him, not chasing you. Just feeling.

“If I’m tormenting you. Should I leave?”

“Don’t you dare…”

It’s barely a breathy response before he connects his lips to yours in a slow needy kiss, his fingers trailing up your back until they reach your neck to keep you securely pressed into him with a grunt when you pull his hair. It’s bordering on desperate the way you chase each other when you part away even slightly.

Just for the desire ladened moment to be broken. The light scratch against your skin has you laughing softly into his mouth before you can deepen the kiss, his stubble clawing faintly at you before he pulls away with a lazy grin.

“Why are you laughing, my love?”

“It tickles… Wait, hey! That’s not fair…”

The second your breathless answer slips he pulls away fully with a frown, holding you in place so you can’t lean back into him. His free hand runs roughly against the coarse grey hair framing his face with a sharp sigh at the rough feeling against his skin.

“Sorry, love. Will you just stay here while I finish up this report?”

Your confusion must be obvious enough to drag a small chuckle from him, a large hand resting on your back for a second before he pulls you into his comfortable chest, your fingers curling against the fabric of his shirt pressed between your bodies.

“Ris… Why are you apologising? I didn’t say it was bad!”

“Hm, I don’t want you to break out.”

If it wasn’t ripping his adoring kisses from your grip, you'd be completely happy to stay firmly against him. It's akin to worship the way he strokes your back soothingly with his head resting against yours with a content exhale.

His body is warm and soft under your hands when you run your palm across the light layer of fat resting over his muscles of his stomach with a grumble into his skin.

“Baby, this is torture… I want to kiss you.”

“I’ll shave after I finish work.”

“But I like it…”

He can’t help the way his heart beats just a little faster in his chest under your muffled pleading, his head shifting away slightly when you press lingering kisses against his throat, your other hand moving away from his thigh to graze your nails down his chest under his shirt.

“I can’t work like this… My love.”

“Too bad… Want to… Show you how much… I love you.”

Every break in your reply is another kiss to the column of his throat, stopping just below his jaw when you whisper your devotion into his ear with a grin at his shudder, A deep exasperated groan follows immediately at your distracting touches, his head falling back against his chair dramatically with a sharp exhale.

Only to regret his choice to move when your lips press harder to his jaw and throat with a laugh when he tries to nudge you away with a scolding tease. 

“You’re obsessive.”

“You like when I’m needy… You can pretend you don’t but you can’t lie to me... I can feel your heart racing, baby.”

The light pink on his cheeks deepens in the dimming light of the sun behind his desk, basking you both in a reverent auburn glow. But he doesn’t stop you from pulling away and staring down at his flushed face, his eyes closed in pure relaxation under your adoring touches.

His grey hair is a stark contrast to the red gracing his skin under you, the short locks lightening through his age as the natural colour shifts almost to white.

“Have I ever told you how pretty you are?”

His eyes flutter open lazily with a sweet smile, the deep red and black that so many fear instead leaves you breathless and falling even harder for your husband… Is that even possible after so many years?

“You tell me every day, amore.”

“Not enough. I love you…”

“You want something... But, I love you too.”

Your gaze falls back to his lips for a fraction when you lean back towards him, your smile widening when his focus is dragged fully from his tired bliss and back onto you. Completely.

“Can I kiss you?”

“As if I'd ever stop you.”

You don’t kiss him immediately like he expects you to, your fingers running down the skin on his stomach to rest against his waist with a grin when he jumps, your hands squeezing lightly at the pliant flesh under your loving fingers.

“You’re perfect.”

“I am far from… Y/N!”

His self depreciation cuts off into a scold when you bite lightly at his shoulder before leaving a small kiss to soothe the skin, your thumb tracing a deep healed scar across his stomach before your eyes catch his again with a playful glare.

“Are you calling me a liar, my love?”

Jotaro - 

There’s one thing that distracts Jotaro so deeply, in the most flustering way. 

One thing more than anything.

It's the way your eyes follow him everywhere he goes when he’s working, no matter what he does, no matter how much he scolds you.

You never stop.

He can feel your stare on him even now, a blush pulling lightly to his cheeks while he inspects the deep gashes across a rib bone while he fights the drag in his focus. 

“I’m working, Y/N.”

It’s barely even a snap slipping from his lips, his eyes never straying from the few fractured skeletal remains of a long dead whale.

It’s not something out of the ordinary that he’s examining bones for research… But it always ends the same, him facing away from you while he leans over the table. And your incessant eyes checking him out.

Unashamed.

And incredibly obvious.

“Y/N.”

“Jotaro…”

Your voice is low and melodic with a song of his name, closer than he expects you to be before he can prepare himself or straighten up.

His body stiffens under your light touch when your fingers trail across his hips with a content hum when he doesn’t immediately drag you off and throw you back onto the bed as he often does… Not that it ever deters you from coming right back.

“You’re pissing me off, I’m busy.”

“Mhm, pissing you off… Or am I making you nervous?”

He doesn’t answer for a few seconds when he pushes you off him so he can turn, the small bitten back smile on his face widening at your teasing with a shake of his head.

You don’t waste a second when he turns again to step forward and wrap your arms around his waist… Well, as far around as you can with his muscled frame.

“Shut up.”

There’s no bite in his tone when he leans down to kiss you, a miniscule fleeting peck before he pulls away with a grin when you complain and tilt up quickly to chase him.

He almost doesn’t let you, the temptation to catch your face and make you plead for his attention for distracting him from work… It’s always addictive to watch your desperation over something so small. 

But he doesn’t stop you this time, leaning down to ease your body from having to chase him when he’s so tall, pressing his lips harder to yours before you can realise that it won’t just be a peck this time. 

It’s all consuming. The way his hands slip around your ribs to hold you flush against his chest even when he pulls away with a slow inhale. The small break doesn’t last long when he dips back in before you can catch your breath and dragging a surprised squeak from your throat.

Your hand drops slowly from his back to rest on his waist with a shaky gasp when he breaks from you to kiss across your jaw, dragging his lips lazily across your skin with a groan when your fingers curl into his hair.

“I thought… You wanted me to let you work, baby.”

“Shut up. Let me…”

He doesn’t finish his thought as he nips lightly at your skin before pulling away to look down at your flushed bliss.

Your eyes flutter open when he stops kissing you, your head raising slightly as you catch his intense gaze, his mussed hair falling in front of his face with a grin when you blush harder. A moment he takes for granted with you so dazed and flustered against him.

“I’m so in love with you.”

His low devotion cracks the silence like shattering glass, his lips catching yours before you have a chance to reply to him with your own confession.

Your response chokes into a surprised moan when his calloused hand moves to your jaw to keep you pressed against him for a desperate few seconds before he pulls away, his lips still brushing yours with a low question after you whisper your adoration into him.

“Holy shit… I love you.”

“Can I get back to work now?”

His forehead moves slightly to rest against yours with a grounding sigh when you try to chase him again. His fingers fall from your jaw and ghost across your chest before they curl lightly over your ribs, a hum pooling in his throat when he feels your heart shudder in your chest.

“I wasn’t… Even doing anything.”

“I can always feel you staring.”

“Maybe stop being so pretty then, Jotaro.”

He pulls away slowly with a deep gravel ladened grumble, his eyes lidded and disbelieving when you catch his glare. There’s a sharp beat of silence before he responds, the intensity of his gaze stealing your breath from you and choking another tease before you can speak it.

“You have a thing for old men?”

“Baby, you are not that old…”

“47 is fucking old. I’m going grey.”

Your fingers pull slightly at his messy hair, the flecks of grey nestled amongst the dark locks becoming more and more obvious the older he gets.

Your eyes fall from the top of his head to the doubt in his eyes, a small worry bubbling into his chest that he covers quickly with annoyance. Irritation that slips instantly when you kiss the crease between his brows with a smile when he flushes harder, no hat to hide his embarrassment under your loving gaze.

You'd just take it off anyway.

“It’s hot…”

“Good grief, you do have a thing for old men.”

He doesn’t pull away even through the aggressive fluster you force him into. It doesn’t matter how many times you whisper your praise to him, nor how long you’ve been married for… His heart still speeds up under your gentle confessions every time.

“Only you. Every part of you is beautiful to me, Jotaro. Some grey hair isn’t going to change that.”

His eyes narrow slightly when he smiles, the light creases by his eyes beautiful in the comforting overhead lighting. It's a small change he always notices.

Every tiny adaptation in his body has him slipping further into an anxious worry that maybe you’ll see every flaw that he sees. And maybe you won’t want him anymore.

A thought that chokes before it could ever turn into a blaze under your devotion, smothering the cinders of his doubt with every small kiss and loving reassurance you give to him so freely. Even if he doesn’t ask for it out loud.

Somehow he thinks you know he needs you before he does.

He swallows his embarrassment with a small question, his fingers winding around your wrist to move your palm flush against his plush stomach, enjoying the feeling of you pressing against him and drowning the nervous thoughts in his mind.

“What did I do to deserve you?”

You don’t answer his uncertain question for a moment, your warm fingers slipping under his shirt to drag your nails across the supple skin of his abdomen. 

His breathing hitches as he glances away in his heightening fluster, each small motion and light squeeze of your hand against the fat of his stomach, leaving him blushing deeper when you press your lips once to his throat.

Your free hand catches his jaw to tilt his head back to look at you again, your dilated eyes intense and deeply affectionate through the little space between you.

“You know, I ask myself the same question every day… I wake up next to you, all I can think is “Holy shit, I am so lucky…” Every single day.”

His throat bobs hard when he swallows, your honesty constricting around his neck and coiling tighter with each passing second. Your worshipping touches like an endless violent tide that rips him into you and away from his anxiety.

“Not luck… I’m yours, forever. In every life.”

“You’re so romantic when you’re shy… You are mine, and I'm yours. You can’t get rid of me.”

His smile widens at your teasing whisper, your eyes fluttering closed when you press a loving kiss to his lips… Only for him to pull away with a huff and grumbling small joke, shattering the vulnerability he finds himself trapped in.

“I know... I’ve tried.”

Kira - 

“Darling?”

The quiet question lingers in the doorway to the kitchen when you glance up away from the cup resting on the counter.

Your husband leans against the doorframe slightly when he catches your attention, the tiny pink blush on his cheeks making your head tilt as you turn fully to inspect him. His soft hair is still damp from his shower, the light blond messy and sticking to his forehead slightly as he moves into the room. 

You can’t help the drag of your eyes against his bare chest, his loose slacks hanging low on his hipbones with every step he takes while you stare unashamed at his body... Until he reaches you and covers your eyes with a huff in embarrassment.

But the image of his chest burns into your mind even through the darkness swimming through your vision, a flustered laugh bubbling in your throat as the blush rushes up your neck and settles on your cheeks.

His voice is low and scolding in your ear when you feel his lips press faintly against your temple.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

“You’re the one who’s wandering around half naked, love… You can’t blame me for staring…”

Your fingers curl against his wrist as you pull him away from your face, your eyes fluttering when you hold his consuming gaze. His jaw tenses slightly in fluster when you force him to match your gaze, every second passing slowly as he tries to scramble for something smart to say back to you…

Just to fail dramatically when he stutters, your fingers trailing down his chest to press against his abdomen and distracting him from his comment when you step forwards into his space.

“You’re… I’m not… Damn it, stop it.”

“It’s so cute when you get shy, baby… You wanted to ask me for something?”

He barely hears you over the sound of his heartbeat, the rushing of blood in his ears distracting him completely when you lean in and steal a quick kiss from him before he can answer.

“My shirt ripped… Could you fix it for me, darling?”

Your smile widens when he chases you, his question barely finishing before his eyes flutter closed with a soft hum when his lips press against yours. It’s not hurried, nor is it desperate.

But it seeps with pure controlled passion, carefully held in his grip as he guides you back against the countertop with a light groan when your hands move to rest against his exposed chest. 

He doesn’t pull away until you nudge him back, your fingers twitching against his skin when you trace across the faint dip in his muscles.

The gentle contact doesn't break fully, your noses brushing as you both gasp for air through desperate bliss, your fingertips still trailing against his flesh before he catches your hands in his. It’s rare that you get him so willing to indulge in his desire to keep you against him for as long as you can both handle the lack of oxygen.

“You’re… Was that my reward for helping you?”

His chuckle is quick and airy, the small noise making you dart back in for a soft lingering kiss before leaning away again. And again with a small squeeze of his waist when you finally shift away to let him answer you.

“I’m sorry... I just couldn’t help myself.”

The breathless confession seeps with honesty, his eyes lidded and distracted by you before he snaps out of his need and steps away with a nervous clearing of his throat.

“Never too busy… Please, just do that whenever you want to…”

“Noted.”

You move immediately to find your sewing kit after his sharp reply, leaning down to search in the cupboard you left it… Just to feel the small brush of his hand against the small of your back while he traces your spine, his touch lingering even when you find it and stand.

“You’re not at all subtle, my love.”

“Do I need to be?”

The faint smile on his face makes you roll your eyes, your hand pressing against his chest from how close to you he’s standing, lightly squeezing the fat over his pec with a happy sigh as you pass him towards the couch and grabbing the thin fabric he left draped over the back.

“You need some new shirts? We can go this weekend.”

He doesn’t answer you when he sinks into the cushions by your side, his hand moving slyly to rest on your thigh with a light knead of your flesh while you sew the small rip across the seam. It’s definitely good it's towards the back, most likely invisible when he’s wearing his jacket. Thankfully.

It doesn’t take long to fix, your fingers moving quickly across the light fabric with complete focus before tying it off and making sure it’s secure before handing it back with a sweet smile. 

“Try it?”

His eyes narrow accusingly at your feigned innocent request, the mischief evident in your gaze as you wait patiently and push the material further into his fingers with a grin.

There’s a long few seconds while he debates if it’s worth humouring you… A fake annoyed sigh slips from his lips when he stands, a hand running through the drying strands of hair to push it out of his face when you sit up straighter.

“You’re not subtle, darling.”

He takes your teasing remark from a few minutes ago, turning it onto you when he steps in front of you and grins when your blush deepens, your eyes staring up intently when he slips the green fabric up his arms and over his muscled shoulders. 

It’s dangerously purposeful how slow he buttons the shirt, watching your fluster rise quickly under his amused glare with every passing moment. His deft fingers trailing up the tightening fabric of the now too small shirt hugging his frame as it outlines the pudge of his stomach against the material.

He’s not stupid... Hell, it’s pretty obvious with how often you stare at him to know just how much you like how he looks, clothed or not. For a while he hated getting older, going grey… Losing his physique even when he wasn’t losing his strength. 

Until your pretty eyes drag across his frame and force those thoughts from his mind violently with every shaky inhale you take to force yourself to not touch him.

“See? It’s difficult to move much without… Y/N. Focus.”

Your distraction is ripped from you as your eyes snap from the defined thickness around his stomach, your words coming out quick and jumbled as you try to cover for yourself… Not that you can, or that he cares with the playful tease sneaking into his tone.

“Shit… Sorry, I was just… I’m listening! Keep going, sorry…”

“Don’t apologise.”

You don’t look away even when the embarrassment chokes you, burning across your body quickly when he steps closer with a hum, pleased that you part your legs for him to stand so close that you can feel his warmth, his hand raising patiently for you to give him something… Oh. 

He wants your hand.

His thumb caresses immediately down your fingers when you press your hand into his, his breath hitching slightly as he traces your skin before snapping out of his own delight when he places your palm flush against his stomach, continuing his prior thought while he has your attention.

“It’s hard to move without it straining and I'd prefer not to rip it while I’m working. So I'll call off today. I have been meaning to fix some things around the house too.”

“You want to take a day off!?”

It’s pure surprise that drips through your voice and earns a laugh, your brows furrowing in confusion until he continues with a low hum, his fingers brushing your hair out of your face with a smile.

“I do. I have a few sick days that I never use, they can handle one day without me... Maybe two, hmm?”

You nod slightly in response, his surety easing your worries quickly under his adoring gaze when your hand presses a little harder against his soft flesh. 

You’re almost disappointed you won’t get to see the dramatic stretch of the fabric as it accommodates his figure, the buttons straining just slightly across his chest, making you hope he flexes and rips it more… A dejection he can see evident on your face before you can stop it from skipping even when you smile happily up at him.

“Don’t look so sad, darling. There are plenty of other times I can dress up for you.”

Abbacchio - 

You can hear the soft thrum of music before you ever step into your bedroom, gentle melodies filling the hallway quietly when you nudge the door open and slink into the dimmed room.

The dark fabric of the curtains is pulled tightly shut to blot out every remnant of the sun, not that it works perfectly when the slit in the centre allows some to sneak in. 

Abbacchio doesn’t notice that you’re there. If he’s even still awake, that is… His exhausted figure laying almost perfectly still on top of the light covers, his arm strewn across his face mindlessly as he blocks out the last sliver of the sun.

“Baby… You okay?”

It’s almost inaudible over the music, a breathy question whispered to him when you sink down beside him and run your fingers through his long hair.

He stirs slightly, the muscles in his arm flexing over his head mindlessly with a tired response, not looking up at you even when his tone dips into pure disinterest.

“Mm, fine.”

“You’re a terrible liar… Talk to me?”

You know he wants to push you off the bed right about now, not that he ever has. He would never hurt you intentionally. But his sigh is deep and exhausted, his arm dragging away from his eyes to glare weakly up at you before the grip he has on the irritation slips.

You always look so loving. So worried for him… Even after so long, he doesn't believe he deserves your love.

“It’s nothing. Weren’t you having fun with the others?”

It’s bordering on accusatory, his eves twitching slightly when he sits up and refuses to glace over at you… And freezing when you take matters into your own hands to force him out of his bad mood, shifting immediately behind him on your knees and draping yourself over him.

Your arms rest around his chest comfortingly when you press a lingering kiss to his temple, your fingers rubbing soothing shapes under the straps of his outfit.

“I’d rather be here, amore… You can try to shoo me away, but has it ever worked?”

He doesn’t answer with words.

The dejected sigh ripping from his throat as his head falls back onto your shoulder, all the stress in his body slowly melting under your soft whispering touches. But he still almost lies again instead of telling you what's really wrong. Almost.

“Just a stupid fucking comment from Mista… It shouldn’t bother me.”

“What was it?”

His head lolls to the side to watch you for a second, but you know you can’t face him without your lips brushing... Even when you really want to turn and catch his gaze.

So you settle for slipping your hand back into his hair with a scratch when you reach the top of his scalp. The groan is response to your caress is instant, his eyes fluttering shut when he scolds you… Again.

“Stop it, Y/N. I can’t concentrate when you do that... Shit.”

“That’s the point, amore… Tell me what he said, come on. I can beat him up for you.”

The song clicks as it ends, moving quickly to the next when he leans to kiss your jaw with a muffled complaint into your skin that he hopes you just let go.

“Said that I’m old like I don't already know. He doesn’t need to tell me I’m going fucking grey and getting…”

Your head turns immediately to glare down at him, your nose brushing his slightly as you dare him to keep deprecating himself for getting older.

“It’s fine. Just pissed me… Off.”

His breath hitches mid sentence when you tug his hair back lightly, his mouth falling open in a silent gasp as his eyes flutter closed.

His mind is at war with itself.

Half wanting to push you off for dragging him so deeply into a blissful vulnerability.

And the rest of him overcome with the desire to melt into your touch and let you whisper sweet reassurance to him for the rest of the night. And it’s winning quickly with every drag of your nails against his sensitive skin.

“Finish what you were going to say, Leone.”

His long lashes flicker when he opens his eyes to stare at you, your patience thinly veiling your irritation for how hateful he can be with himself. For getting older of all things.

“Fatter… Don’t give me that look, it’s not like I’m… Fuck, stop doing that.”

He catches your wrist when you claw lightly from the top of his head to the base of his neck, tearing a rhapsodic shudder from him before he shifts away and nudges you off his back.

But the good thing about him getting older, is that he’s gotten a lot more unsuspecting around you... Very idiotically naïve that you'll let it go.

He reacts too slowly when you crawl in front of him, catching his face in your hands with a smile when you take him off guard. You quickly move to sling your leg over his lap and straddle him before he can get up to leave you there, enjoying his small moment of panic when he stiffens.

“So what? You gained a little weight… Does it bother you?”

He doesn’t answer.

But the immediate averting of his eyes tells you all you need to know. It hurts your heart knowing he thinks himself lesser just because he’s aging. Because he’s alive.

“You know what I think? I think you’re perfect.” 

His mouth opens slightly to snap back a denial until your glare turns dangerous, your eyes narrowing and ripping his response from him as he stops and waits for you to continue.

It's barely a second later that your smile slips back onto your face in a horrifying quickness when your annoyance leaves, your voice gentle as you lean closer to him.

“I love your hair… Your stubble…”

Your fingers brush his hair back away from his face with a light kiss to his cheek, slipping your palm under his jaw to inspect the dark grey stubble he tries so desperately to keep shaved. Only for you to complain every time when you miss the scratch against your skin when he nuzzles into you.

Your hand slips across his chest slowly with another brush of your lips against his jaw, your whisper making his heart beat faster with every worshipping touch left against his body. 

“Your chest… God, and the way these fucking straps dig in just a little over your stomach… You have no idea how feral you make me.”

“Stop ly…” 

His snap is cut off violently, your teeth sinking slightly into his chest and making him jump with a startled hiss, his hand catching the back of your head when you kiss against the quickly fading mark. Not to pull you away, but to desperately ground himself through the gentle pleasure.

“Go ahead, call me a liar.”

“You’re fucking insane.”

You push lightly at his chest when you part from his soft flesh, your grin making him blush as he lets you nudge him onto his elbows, watching you with fierce intensity as you trail kisses down his chest and towards his naval. All while muttering breathy praise between every kiss as you go.

“Do you understand… That I can barely keep my… Eyes off of you when you wear this?”

His breathing is fucked already, every inhale catching in his throat when he tries to force his fluster to ease around his rapid heartbeat… But it refuses to uncoil. Not with you nipping at the soft layer of pudge over his muscles and leaving lingering kisses until you get to the hem of his coat with a huff.

“Take it off.”

He’s just as annoyed as you are with the break in your reassurance, wasting less than a second sitting up completely and helping you undo the fastenings and cords across his chest. The warm fabric pools lightly around his waist on top of the comforter, your eyes dragging lower with a groan.

You don’t even let him toss it to the side when you push him back down onto the material with a laugh at his pure surprise, his hair fanning around his head with a breathy chuckle at your eagerness.

“When you said feral…”

“Trust me, this is nothing, amore… Still feeling bad about getting older?”

He can’t fight the smile on his lips when you lean over to rest face to face with him, your nose brushing against his with a teasing question. Your careful fingers pressing against his chest stop him from chasing to kiss you, forcing him to answer before you even think about moving.

“Might need a little more convincing.”

“Good… I had no intention to stop anyway.”

Bruno - 

“... The best course of action is to wait until sunrise and come in from the west. If we can take them by surprise there won’t be any risk of the target slipping out of our grasp again and…”

You know you should be paying attention.

You’re trying to… You really are.

But all you can think about doing right now is dragging your fingers through his greying hair, the sleek bob looking as perfect as ever even with the soft speckled grey interwoven with black... Fuck, honestly it looks even better.

The deep blue of his eyes catches the lighting above while his gaze drags around the room, landing one by one on his team as he gives information about the next mission.

And then landing on you, his mouth opening in a command that you definitely aren’t paying attention to with the faintest hint of a knowing smile.

You notice too late when he quickly pulls the attention in the room back to him, saving you the embarrassment of being so distracted before anyone bar him notices, his faint smile staying firmly on his face while he continues the briefing.

It’s hard not to lose focus again, his fingers drumming against the hardwood desk when he finishes up and dismisses the group.

But from the look in his eyes alone you know he doesn’t want you to leave... The door closes with a loud click behind Mista when he slinks out with a small goodbye, the stunning blue of Bruno's eyes darkening immediately when the commanding tone slips into his voice. It's almost predatory with the way he's staring hungrily at you...

“Repeat it for me.”

Your eyes widen in surprise when he stalks around the table slowly and shifts to sit on the table by your side, smiling lightly down at you when you hesitate.

Your gaze falls quickly from him in embarrassment so he can't tease you further...But you don't get to hide as his hand catches your jaw before you can even dare to fully look away when he tilts your head up to look at him.

“Not even a little?”

“I’m sor…”

“Don’t. You’re not usually so distracted, tell me what’s on your mind.”

The silence is thick.

Every heartbeat loud in your chest while you try to think of any normal response to say to him… But you don’t find anything, not a single reply that doesn't sound insane. Hell, even if you did, you think he’d know regardless.

“It’s just… You.”

His smile rips the air from your lungs, a saccharine grin that splits his face and leaves you blushing more under his adoring gaze.

His thumb traces back across your jaw slowly until his fingers curl around the back of your neck, leaning close enough that his breath ghosts across your face.

“What about me?”

“Your hair…”

“My hair?”

The air between you is stifling, the tension choking you as he waits patiently for you to respond to his low playful question, his eyes almost fully closed when his nose nudges your own.

“Mm, you just look so pretty… It’s distracting.”

“We were in a meeting, amore. You looked seconds away from devouring me… Or killing me, I couldn’t tell.”

It must look less than professional. Your boss leaning almost completely into you from his space on the table, your hands clasped tightly in your lap as you fight the urge to ruin his hair, especially in public… Probably not a good idea... Definitely not a good idea. But painfully templating.

“Stand up for me.”

He straightens back up immediately after the low demand slips from him, your eyes snapping open in shock while he grins down lazily at your malfunction.

It’s not nearly as fast as you want it to be when you finally break from your daze, your brain finally catching up with his order when you finally push yourself up out of your chair and stand in front of your husband.

His legs part mindlessly to let you step closer to him, his fingers twitching lightly as if he wants to reach out and touch you but fighting the want... Even when he knows he could. His breath comes in short fast bursts while he tries to ease the rapid beating of his heart, unsuccessfully.

It’s enticing to look down at his exposed chest. Painfully so…

Almost agonisingly captivating, like a siren whispering in your ear…

Just. One. Look…

That overwhelming desire to glance down and stare at the way the lace presses into his plush skin like it’s too small for him to even wear anymore… Not that you’re complaining in the slightest.

But you're losing your mind... And he knows it.

Your eyes flutter when you catch yourself just before your eyes drop with a nervous swallow when his lips twitch in a knowing smirk. His head tilting while he watches you in a playful curiosity, the soft greying hair falling slightly over his eyes when he takes your hand in his.

His skin is warm under your fingers as he caresses over your palm, following the lines against your flesh before moving your hand to rest over the button of his jacket.

“Just my hair?”

Your confusion shatters you out of the palpable anticipation crackling through the air, your eyes trailing to your hand pressed against the front of his jacket with a frown. Does he want you to... Undress him?

“What?”

“Is it just my hair that you like?”

His voice dips into a devastating flirt with a quick glance down at your lips, his tongue unconsciously darting out to wet his own slowly.

It's supposed to be teasing…

A small playful goad for you to tell him the things you like about him, whether it’s because he just wants to hear it, or because he wants reassurance... You aren’t sure.

But Bruno has never been the best about how his intentions come across with you. Always too flirty. Too intimate...

You can’t stop your rapid blinks in shock when you whisper your question again in a small panic through the devastating silence.

“What!? Amore… We’re in public…”

His eyes widen when he finally understands with a loud shaky exhale, his realisation hitting him like a truck as he covers his mouth with a muffled snort from the pure amusement dripping through his body. His hair falls fully in front of his face while he chokes back his laughing with a gasping quiet reply.

“Shit, it… I didn’t mean… I only wanted to tease you, love… Not…”

“Oh my god! Bruno…”

His flustered giggle is low and nervous when he steps into your space, burying his head into your shoulder as he bites back the small noises slipping from his lips. Not that you’re much better…

The sexual tension shatters like brittle glass between your fingers, your laughs intertwining lightly as you both calm from the gentle moment. 

Your hands move to his waist unconsciously when he leans back again, his smile giddy under your watchful gaze when the silence crawls back into the room comfortably while you hold each other in the empty meeting room.

“Sorry, love… I suppose it makes sense why you were so nervous now.”

“I think my heart stopped for a second.”

His hand sneaks back into yours quickly, determined to salvage the moment and pull it back to his teasing questions, albeit a lot more playful than he intended it to be. His voice dipping quietly when he drags you back fully between his parted thighs, his hand guiding yours to rest back onto his waist with a sweet smile.

“You can look, you know?”

Even if you wanted to, you probably wouldn’t stop yourself from glancing down at his chest. His muscles flexing unconsciously when he leans back onto his hands and lets you inspect him.

A small excited laugh slips from you when he blushes under your immediate flustered gaze. Your eyes never leaving his flesh with every desperate second of you burning how perfect he looks into your mind.

“Like what you see?”

“That was so cheesy… But you know I do. So perfect.”

His entire body jerks in shock when you dip your head to kiss his chest sweetly, your lipstick marking over his supple flesh as your lips trail lazily against the exposed skin. 

Every press of your kisses leaves you more desperate to brand him with your worship, your teeth graze lightly against the fat lining his pec as you try not to leave a bite mark… But god do you want to.

“I hope… You have something to clean this…”

It’s a lot more breathy than he wants it to be, his fingers flitting quickly to your head when you linger just above the lace adorning his skin. He all but moans when your tongue darts out to lick at the colour staining his skin, leaving him a blushing mess as he struggles not to let his head fall back.

"Mm, depends on how long we have."

It would be a terrible position to be caught in. You both know it would…

But the way his fingers curl desperately in your hair to keep you close mixes dangerously with the small gasps that you drag from his lips, forcing every thought that you should stop leaving adoring kisses against him out of your head before they can settle for a second.

You barely pull away when his head snaps up to look at you, his eyes glassy and dazed, his cheeks burning a deep red while he catches his breath through your short break.

His mouth opens to say something before closing it so quickly his teeth click together slightly, his gaze focused completely on your fingers as you undo his jacket with a playful smile when you press kisses across the now exposed skin of his stomach. 

His lip catches in his teeth with a small whine when you suck below the once covered flesh, littering his skin with light love bites just above his waistband and ripping a shaky quiet moan from him.

His fingers grips your hair slightly harder when you nip and suck against his pelvis, grinning when you lean away and see the faint lipstick embossing his body. Your whispered devoted confession breaks apart through every lingering kiss you leave against his plush skin.

“It’s not just… Your hair that I… like.”

"Don't... Fuck, don't wipe those away."

Mista - 

The faint thud of metal against fabric makes you glance up from your laptop, your laugh immediate and loud before you can stop it when you see Guido half upside down while standing on the bed.

His hat is discarded in the middle of the pillows while he shakes stray bullets from his hair before grinning down at you where you sit by the bed reading… Well, previously reading. 

His dark eyes catch yours when he sinks to his knees with a smirk, trying to be sexy before immediately leaning on a bullet with a yelp as he fishes it from under his knee.

“God damn it… I should stop doing this on the bed.”

“You could just let me help, you know?”

His smile only widens when he drops to lay down on his back with a loud sigh, his head falling off the side of the bed and onto your thigh uncomfortably... He could have just asked you to move closer.

“Well, you should hop up here and make up for not helping me today then…”

His hand lazily pats his abdomen and shuts your laptop less than majestically with the other, waiting patiently for you to turn him down with a playful twinkle in his eyes. He hopes you don't just scold him this time, maybe you'll teasingly calling him as a flirt like you always do... He loves when you do that.

Your sigh is laced with exasperation when you tilt your leg to support his neck, curling your fingers into his dark hair and playing with the strands and immediately pulling him into a blissful comfort. Even if it never lasts long with him. 

Maybe his dramatics would have been a little less… Loud, If you’d have gone with him on his last mission.

“Fuck, yes… Baby, just like that.”

“Guido! Stop being weird!”

His content sigh is immediate through your laughing scold, a small panicked complaint following quickly from him when you pull your hand away from his hair. There's not even a second in the lack of touch before his fingers catch your wrist with a pathetic whine when he drags you back into his loose curls.

“Please, I’ll be so good. Promise.”

“You’re never good. Stop moaning… Someone is gonna hear you and assume I’m…”

“Making me feel SO good?”

How he’s always this playful and energetic you’ll never know… But you know he would stop being so dramatic if you were truly annoyed by it. You never are... Even when you pretend to be. You'd never let him believe that you didn't love him even for a second.

You watch his eyes flutter closed while you start massaging his scalp, your hand easing the stress of the day with every passing second in domestic bliss. The curls soft and dark as you brush through the locks, teasing the hair away from his skin and dragging him into pure delight...

Until your finger catches a small knot. The light tangle hooking over your finger as you tug accidentally and drag a pathetic whimper from him that has him slap a hand over his mouth in embarrassment.

You both freeze for a second, the silence deafening as you stare at each other in pure shock before descending quickly into giddy laughing when he sits up, his palm covering your eyes so you can't see the blush rushing to his cheeks through the fluster.

“Baby… It wasn’t that bad!”

“Not a chance, I can’t let you leave this room. That was the most embarrassing thing that's even happened to me.”

“We’re married, Guido. I’ve heard worse... It was cute!”

Even though you can’t see him you can feel the glare he burns into your soul, his other hand finding yours when he slips off the bed and makes you stand up… Without ever removing your new makeshift blindfold. Your other hand rests over his chest to steady yourself, his heartbeat hammering in his chest like a hummingbird and making you smile sweetly towards him.

“What do you mean worse!?”

His hand finally drops from your eyes alongside his accusing tone, pulling you onto his lap when he collapses back on the bed again and dragging you fully on top of him unintentionally.

You realise just fast enough to shift yourself to straddle his waist before he claws you down with him, knowing he's going to... Yeah, you expected that. He's too predictable.

You don’t even attempt to pull away when his arms wrap around your waist, locking you against him with a pleased hum when you sigh and melt into his embrace, burying your face into his throat with a muffled reply to his earlier question... Damn it, he always smells so good.

“You sleep talk, Guido. Last week you kept muttering “It’s hard to believe 10 years ago, was just 10 years ago.” Baby, what does that even mean?”

“It’s pretty self explanatory. If you know you… Hey, you…”

Your fingers tug his short hair before he can finish his playful dismission, your lips meeting his before he can start to complain about you interrupting when it’s ripped violently into a low muffled laugh.

Your fingers trail lightly up his crop top to rest over his thudding heart without ever breaking away, your tongue meeting his for a brief moment before parting with a shudder when his fingers rest over your ass.

He doesn’t even attempt to hide his grin when he kneads lightly and pulls your other hand onto his stomach when he chases you to drag you into another desperate kiss.

It's a lot less sweet this time, his tongue immediately finding yours with a needy groan. Every faint brush of the wet muscle against your own stealing the breath from your lungs and dragging the kiss into pure mind-numbing desire.

Your hands are soft against the plump skin of his stomach, your fingers trailing lightly over his happy trail before gripping his waist with a pleased noise when he shudders at the feeling, your lips finally breaking apart with desperate gasps for air through your almost inaudible question.

“Can I… Do something?”

“Anything... You can do... Anything that you want to me.”

“Guido…”

Your tone is a playful scold while you glare exasperated down at his breathless whisper, his hands settling immediately on your hips when you shift to sit up. His fluster is painfully evident when your gazes meet again, his cheeks flushed a deep crimson when he shifts under your intensity.

There's a dangerously pure focus as you drag your stare from his eyes down his plush stomach and over the hair nestled under his naval. 

Your fingers are so quick it takes him off guard, deft hands dragging him to sit up against you with a giddy grin when he follows your wordless instruction without hesitation. His eyes widening slightly when you pull at the hem of the wool and drag it off over his head with his help and throw it beside you onto the bed.

“Keep your hands to yourself this time, baby.”

His pretty smile makes your breath hitch before you can inhale fully, your heart skipping softly in your chest when he beams happily up at you, even more so when you push him back onto the bed. You hope he listens this time… But he often doesn’t last long before reaching back out to touch you.

His hands curl into the covers to keep them busy when you lean down slowly to kiss his jaw, your hot tongue tracing down across his pulse until you reach his collarbone and earning a shuddering inhale from him as he tries to fight the ache in his stomach.

Every kiss you leave has him spiralling further into the desperate need to at least hold you, but he listens this time... He lets you melt away the stress of the mafia into a gentle warm puddle in your loving hands. 

It's his favourite time when you're like this after missions, so needy to have him lay comfortably while you dote on him... He loves it, every single time.

You don’t stop at his throat for long, your lips trailing across his chest and leaving a harder bite against the skin that you intended to, making him whimper lightly through his blissful relaxation.

“Shit, sorry… I didn’t mean…”

“No... Do it again.”

His eyes flutter open to meet your surprised gaze, his grin widening when he breaks. His hand finally curls into your hair and pulls you closer with a little plea, softer than the last. Breathier. Desperate to feel your lips on him again, so eager to let you nip at his skin.

“Please…”

Your mischievousness spikes hard before you bite down gently into his supple skin over his pectoral, earning a small gasp when his head falls back against the covers with a breathy laugh.

His fingers don't leave your head while you trail lazy kisses down his abdomen, not guiding you but still staying securely pressed to you while you leave soft bites and love bites occasionally against his skin. Hard enough to feel, but not to hurt. 

It’s slow and torturous, every kiss leaving him more flustered than the last while he basks in the feeling of you teasing him. Tormenting him. He’d mutter out a comment about how ‘cruel’ it is to keep touching him so sweetly, if only he wasn’t enjoying it just as much as you are.

“If you ever shave this, I’ll kill you.”

His head doesn’t need to raise to understand you’re talking about his happy trail, your lips immediately pressing just below his bellybutton with a low pleased hum when he replies and shifts slightly underneath your devotion.

“I know you enough to… Know you like it, baby… You’re driving me insane.”

You still don’t stop even when he's completely slumped into the covers, your eyes fluttering closed when you press kiss after kiss down his stomach with dangerous precision for the most sensitive parts of his skin.

Your tongue darts out to leave wet lingering kisses against every scar littering his stomach until you reach his waistband with a grin, his fluster obvious and devastated with his arousal.

"Guido..."

"Ignore it! Please, just keep... Keep kissing me."

It's desperate, the soft want rushing through his veins for you to just keep doing exactly what you have been. He's so cute...

Your smile is sweet when you sit back on your knees and stare down at the fading bitemarks you’ve left scattered across his body. Your lipstick long faded as it stains his throat and collarbone.

And Guido… Your sweet husband.

Completely melted into the fabric of your bed with a toothy giddy smile on his face in pure content bliss.

“You look so perfect.”

He barely cracks his eyes open to look up at you, his blush deepening through your all consuming gaze. Even the tips of his ears are a bright red...

He knows he must look fucked with how long you’ve been toying with him. But he really can’t bring himself to care when you look so pleased with how much of a mess he is from just some gentle worship.

“Can you keep going? Not… Just here, like you’ve been…”

His fingers rest over the fat of his stomach, your eyes immediately distracted by the soft curling hair adorning his abdomen when he brushes through, your face lighting up with a saccharine smile laced with mischief, a look that makes his entire body vibrate with intoxicated excitement.

“Are you sure?”

His nod is immediate, his dark hair bobbing against his forehead when he pulls himself up onto his elbows to watch your careful movements, slow and precise when you press a lingering kiss to his chest.

Just to make him jerk in shock when you bite very lightly at his nipple with a muffled laugh into his skin when he yelps and pushes your head away with a grin.

“You’re such an asshole, Y/N… Wait, actually do that again?”

Diavolo -

He looks almost in pure relaxation like this.

His jaw resting in your hand with his eyes closed, his deep slow breaths tickling the skin on your throat while you drag the razor across his cheek and towards your careful fingers where they hold his face. 

Your heart swells at the thought of him trusting you enough to do this, let alone not watch you. It's taken a very long time to get him so unwary and calm, and every moment of earning that trust was worth it, even if he can still be a little jagged.

The light pink stubble cuts easy with every stroke of the blades against his skin, the once clear water by your side left murky from the shaving cream with each dip in to clean it.

There's a completely peaceful expression settled on his face, a look that he very rarely wears even around you, dripping with calm as his stress melts away under your kind hands.

“All done… Good?”

His eyes barely open with a low agreeing hum, not even glancing over to the mirror when he watches you with a lazy smile before stepping closer and pressing his lips to yours in a quick kiss… Immediately earning a whining complaint about the remnants of cream littering his skin. And now yours.

“Dia! At least… Let me clean... You up… First… Damn it, stop… Kissing me.”

Each attempt you make to scold him is cut off violently with the plethora of brief kisses he presses against you, his lips quirk up into a grin when you complain but make no effort to stop him, even chasing him when he does pull away.

“It’s good.”

“You didn’t even look…”

The small huff that slips from him ghosts gently against your skin when he looks past you into the slightly fogged mirror, tilting his head to inspect his face with a low hum when he glances back towards where you sit on the countertop.

“My answer hasn’t changed.”

His fingers brush yours when he takes the small towel from you, ignoring his own discomfort for a quick moment as he wipes the mess off of your face first with careful hands before cleaning his own. A small kindness that never goes unnoticed by you.

He steps back into your parted legs comfortably, quickly wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you flush into his soft chest, his head burying into the crook of your neck as he enjoys the gentle scent of your body wash.

“You’re so sweet, love…”

The deep laugh into your skin tickles your throat slightly before he pulls away with a faint amused raise of his brows, his tone almost playful even when it holds its dangerous lilt.

“Sweet is not a word most would use to describe me.”

“I’m not most.”

“Mm, that you aren’t.”

The cold of the tile under your socked feet makes you tense when he pulls you carefully off the counter after him, his hands resting on your waist as he stabilizes you with uncharacteristic compassion. His forehead rests against yours for a brief moment of relaxation before he finally steps away to guide you into the bedroom with a nudge for you to sit down on the bed.

“What time are you leaving today?”

Your question makes him hesitate halfway to the closet, not glancing back but thinking for a second before he continues over to pull the doors open with a low dismissing answer.

“Not yet.”

Your eyes trail down his tattoos unconsciously while he rummages around til his fingers brush over the usual lace he wears. He pauses instantly when he tangles it into his fingers, his frown obvious even if he doesn’t even turn to look at you…

You can tell he’s debating not wearing it at all with a mindless brush of his hand through his hair to tug it out of the way and into a hair tie, barely even noticing your interested eyes taking in every movement with an unyielding hunger.

“Tell me what you’re thinking, my love?”

“It doesn’t fit anymore.”

Bullshit… You know it fits him, even if it rests a little closer to his skin than it did before.

He hears you move from the soft pads against the floor, stiffening in surprise for a split second when your hands curl around his waist to rest on his stomach, your lips briefly pressing to his jaw as you coil yourself around him lovingly.

“Prove it.”

“You know it doesn’t.”

“Mm, I know no such thing… Put it on?” 

Your whisper in his ear has him straighten again with an almost shy tense in his jaw when he tilts his head, glaring back at where you rest your chin on his shoulder with a troublesome grin.

If he didn’t know you were up to something before… He knows now.

“If you want something, ask for it.”

“I want to see the way it digs a little into your skin, right here... And here… You’re so beautiful, is it really so bad I wanna see you looking hot?”

His eyes widen slightly in shock at how ready you were to answer him, your fingers caressing over his pecs before your free hand squeezes around his bicep with a grin he can hear so clearly in your confession. The honesty in your voice ripping his breath from him dangerously, opting to clear his throat to regain his composure and tear his eyes away from you. He’s embarrassed...

“You’re a freak.”

“It’s not a kink thing, asshole… I just think you look so pretty, don't you think so?” 

Your fingers trace across the soft layer of fat over his chest while you mimic the way the lace sits across his body with a muffled laugh when he melts mindlessly into your touch with a grumble.

“Fine. Just stop doing that.”

The feigned disdain in his voice makes you smile happily and pull away with a final squeeze of his pec as you shift away to sit on the edge of the bed, waiting patiently and dragging an exasperated huff from him with just how excited you look for something so miniscule.

He feels slightly out of place when he shrugs his shirt over his head and places it on the bed by your side with a shake of his head, the soft pink cascading across his shoulders when his fingers catch the hair tie and pull it from the high ponytail.

His hand immediately pushes the long hair out of his face without ever breaking the intense eye contact with you. It’s ethereal how perfect he looks right now. But what the fuck… 

Why is he performing for you?

“This kinda... Just feels like a strip tease, baby…”

“Are you complaining?”

“Nope! Shutting up now…”

His lips twitch at your immediate backpedalling, your voice urgent and desperate before he even has the chance to playfully tease more. He watches your reaction intently when your gaze drags across his body and onto the gentle tufts of pink hair from his navel to below the hem of his waistband.

The silence is palpable when it fills the room, your eyes wide and delighted when he chooses to indulge you, watching your shoulders fall while you sit completely hypnotised by the intricacies of his body.

“You’re staring. Why my stomach, of all things?”

It’s almost cold with his snipped interrogation, immense curiosity interlacing with his disinterested tone when he steps forward, catching your jaw in gentle fingers as he forces you to look up at him with a deep pink blush rushing to your cheeks.

“It’s just so hot..."

“That I have gained weight?”

The instant quick nod leaves him more bewildered than before he asked, your eyes glittering under the sunlight streaming through the window beside you both.

Mischievous...

But adoring. 

His fingers drop from your jaw after a small caress lingering against your cheek, your lidded eyes watching him step away to drag the lace over his head, settling it against his chest with a curious tilt of his head when he fixes the way it sits against his pecs and around his biceps. 

It’s not uncomfortable in any way… Just strangely present. The plush skin adjusting to the slight pressure and accentuating the thickness lining his muscles. To him, an inconvenience… But to you? Divinity.

He barely has time to regret his choice to put it on to humour you when he glances up to your wide eyed stare, your skin flushing even deeper under his intense gaze as you check him out so shamelessly. Your gaze dragging slowly from the faint pink hair trailing across his stomach up to the lace caressing his chest and arms. 

Your breath hitches violently when he flexes his muscles to see your reaction, pulling a pleased hum from his throat when your eyes flutter and he drags you into a daze.

You should regret your choice to be so honest with him, a disastrous turn that he knows just how much control he has over your thoughts... Something he silently tucks away to test the limits of another time.

Every notion of disliking the way he looks shatters in his grip before he can focus on them, your stare tracing across his biceps with a quick lick of your lips before you even attempt to speak. it's breathless and weak when you question him quietly, your voice choking on your plea when he nudges your thighs apart with his leg.

You sound pathetic...

And fuck, he loves it more than he would ever tell you.

“Can I… Please?”

Your fingers hesitate in the air before you touch his abdomen, your eyes darting up to his and waiting for permission before you reach any further. Your grin widening in a giddy excitement when he rolls his eyes and steps forward into your hand, his gaze never leaving your face even when you begin to trace your fingers faintly across his body.

“I am yours, beloved. You don’t need to ask to touch me."

"Sit down," you say, letting him sit on the toilet lid, looking around at you and all the hair care products.

"What is this about?" Jotaro opens his legs so you can stay up between them.

"You're hiding things from me." You point your finger right in the middle of his chest making his eyebrows furrow in confusion.

"What..."

You tilt your head at him, smiling softly as your finger stays pressed against his chest. "You have curls, Jotaro. Real ones. Why didn't you ever tell me?"

He blinks once, then lets out a quiet sigh. "It's not a big deal. They get messy. I just gel them down."

"But they're beautiful," you whisper, stepping a little closer between his legs. Your hands rest gently on his shoulders, thumbs brushing over his warm skin. "Let me take care of them tonight. Please?"

Jotaro looks away for a second, jaw tight, but you know that expression. He's not mad, just a little embarrassed. He sighs again, deeper this time. "You're going to make a mess."

"I won't. I promise I'll be careful," you say, leaning in to press a ligth kiss to the corner of his mouth. "And if you hate it, you can put the cap back on right after. But I think you're going to like it."

He stays quiet for a moment, then grumbles under his breath. "Fine. Don't take too long."

You beam at him and reach for the spray bottle first, misting his hair gently until it's damp. He closes his eyes, letting you work, though every few minutes he makes a small comment.

"This feels weird," he mutters when you start scrunching the water out with a towel.

"Shh, it feels great," you answer softly, running your fingers through his curls to separate them. They're softer than you imagined, dark and springy, already starting to bounce back into shape.

You move through your routine carefully: a little leave-in conditioner, some curl cream smoothed in section by section, then a light gel to hold everything without making it crunchy. He sighs again when you twist a few pieces around your finger to encourage the definition.

"You're doing too much" he says, but there's a hint of a smile tugging at his lips now.

"Maybe i am," you reply, meeting his eyes for a second. "Because it's you."

The bathroom fills with the quiet sound of your hands working through his hair and the occasional soft comment from him. "That part's always the worst in the morning," he admits once, pointing to the back of his head where the curls usually flatten under his cap.

By the time you're done, you step back and grab the diffuser, gently drying everything until his hair looks full and alive. When you finally turn him toward the mirror, your breath catches.

His curls are perfect. Shiny, defined, falling in soft, dark spirals that frame his face just right. One piece still drops over his forehead like always, but now it looks intentional, romantic even. They catch the light with a healthy glow, bouncy and full of life.

Jotaro stares at his reflection for a long moment, he reaches up, touching one curl carefully scared to mess them up.

"See?" you say, wrapping your arms around him from behind. "They're gorgeous. You're gorgeous."

He lets out one last sigh, but this one sounds different, almost fond. His hand finds yours on his stomach and squeezes gently. "Maybe they're not so bad." He turns in your arms so he's facing you, leaning down to kiss your temple. "Thank you."

a/n: i love love love his curls I LOVE EM a/n 2: do we like this new layout mmmm