FERNOW

“dex,” you had giggled as he all but squeezed you to himself, holding you so tight it felt like he was trying to blend your body into his own.

you raised your hands to his shoulders. he was still clad in his bullseye suit — the dark blue material feeling strangely artificial under your palms.

he smelled of sweat and dust, and you swore you’d noticed a speck of blood somewhere on him when he first came inside, though it was gone now. ever since the two of you had started dating seriously, you’d noticed he always cleaned himself up after coming back from… work. if you could even call what he did work.

he no longer came home covered in grime and someone else’s coppery, crimson blood. he knew you always worried it was his, even if most of the time it wasn’t.

but still, the heavy suit trapped his body heat, and the sweat that came with the adrenaline couldn't be helped.

“what is it?” he grumbled, noticing the way you knit your brows and tried to pull away from his grip. not that the iron embrace he had on your hips would have let you move anyway.

“you smell,” you pointed out, suppressing a laugh at his instantly irritated expression.

all he wanted to do was hold you and kiss you stupid after another successful mission, and here you were — complaining about something he couldn’t control.

“what do you want me to do?” he muttered, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck like a clingy animal. “'s not my fault.”

“benjamin,” you warned, cradling his head as he all but whined. here he was— a grown man, an infamous vigilante who had people shaking in their boots at the mere mention of his name—whining in your arms like a child. “i love you. but please, for the love of god, go shower.”

he sighed, knowing those three words were the exact key he could never resist. he melted every single time you said it, whether it was the first or the hundredth time.

and you were right… he did kind of stink.

so that was how you ended up laying on your bed in nothing but a t-shirt, waiting for him to finish. all the dirt and soot and gore of his day washing down the drain with the hot water.

the door creaked on its hinges as he stepped out, a slight mist rolling out behind him. his blonde hair was damp and ruffled where the water had undone his styling, and he had nothing but a towel loosely wrapped around his hips.

you subconsciously bit your lip at the sight, your breathing stuttering at his appearance. you felt your pupils dilating as your thighs involuntarily squeezed together.

he didn't seem to notice your staring at first, intent on grabbing a shirt and a clean pair of boxers from the dresser.

you admired the hard strain of his back muscles, the perfectly sculpted slope of his shoulders and abs as he turned around, grumbling softly as he sifted through his clothes.

you scooted closer to the edge of the mattress, getting closer to where he stood. up close, he looked even more dangerous, even more gorgeous.

“you’re staring,” he pointed out, and you could hear the smug smirk in his voice.

“is it a crime for a woman to admire her boyfriend’s stunning physique?”

“stunning?” he turned around sharply, a little breathless from the massive grin spreading across his face.

he was still only sporting that towel loosely draped over his hips… if it slipped just a fraction…

“yeah,” you breathed, standing up. your fingers traced over the ridges of his abs, feeling the intense heat radiating from his skin. he tensed instantly under your touch. “stunning.”

you didn’t notice the way dex looked at you with a sudden, dark hunger — you were too caught up in admiring him.

it was one thing for him to worship you all the time, constantly repeating how much he loved you, how obsessed he was.

but it was a completely different beast when you were the one doing it, showing your raw devotion to him openly.

it did something lethal to his brain, cracking open his fragile skull and making his spine tingle right where the scar from his injury lay.

your lips parted as a quiet giggle involuntarily escaped you.

“what is it?” he asked, his voice dropping an octave as he suppressed the urge to shove you onto the mattress and kiss you senseless.

“you’re just so…” your brain searched for the right word. “large. like… in a really good way. it’s hot.”

his mind completely short-circuited at that, your words echoing through his skull like a broken, beautiful record player.

“i like how,” your hands dragged up to his shoulders, “how wide your shoulders are. your chest is so broad… your arms, your abs. your belly.” you spoke of him like he was the most precious thing on earth. like his body was a shrine you were destined to worship. him. “your thighs.”

him, who others feared or viewed as nothing but a monster. a murderer. a tool simply utilizable before discarding. but you… you looked at him like he hung the stars in the sky.

“you’ve been eating more,” you noted matter-of-factly. but before his deep rooted insecurity could surface, you cut it off. “i like that. i like you. i like how you’re…”

you grabbed his hands, pulling his massive frame closer to yours. he made a low, wrecked noise in the back of his throat, every ounce of his self-restraint faltering by the second.

“i like how you have enough muscle for the both of us,” you finally whispered, looking up into his eyes.

and all you found there was purely unfiltered love, adoration, and burning lust.

it made your heart skip a beat. your dex, looking down at you like you were the center of his universe. because to him, you absolutely were.

“you can’t just say shit like that to me…” he whispered, his large hand coming up to cup your cheek. “and expect me to act normal.”

“i never said i wanted you to be,” you shot back, and dex was immediately reminded exactly why you were his.

“show me dex…” you whispered, slipping your fingers between your bodies and carefully undoing the knot holding together the towel. “show me everything you want to do to me.”

you could feel the groan vibrating through his chest as all self-restraint perished and he pushed you towards the bed.

and showed you… he did.

©padmespetal 2026: I DO NOT APPROVE OF MY WORKS TO BE TRANSLATED OR COPIED ANYWHERE WITHOUT PERMISSION.