Xavier had reached a new low.
He was jealous of a plushie.
Not just any plushie—a plushie of himself. Specifically, a mini Lumiere plushie with bright blue button eyes, a cute stitched smile, and a tiny version of his masked hero uniform.
Nana had bought it last week from some pop-up store, squealing about how adorable it was. And ever since, that damn plushie had become her new favorite thing.
She talked to it. "Good morning, mini Lumiere! Did you sleep well?"
She carried it around the apartment. "Come on, let's go make breakfast together!"
She posed it on the bookshelf while she read. "You can keep me company."
And worst of all—she slept with it. Cuddled against her chest like it was the most precious thing in the world.
It was ridiculous. Xavier knew it was ridiculous. He was a grown man, a legendary hero, and he was seething with jealousy over a stuffed toy version of himself.
But that didn't stop the irritation from building every time he saw her kiss its little fabric head or whisper secrets to it like it could actually respond.
Now, lying in bed in the afternoon, Xavier turned his head to look at his wife. She was napping peacefully, the Lumiere plushie clutched to her chest, her face pressed against its soft head.
His eye twitched.
Slowly, carefully, he reached over and plucked the plushie from her embrace. She made a small sound of protest in her sleep but didn't wake. Xavier tossed the offending toy across the room—it landed in the corner with a soft thud—and immediately pulled Nana into his arms instead.
She sighed contentedly and nestled against his chest, right where she belonged.
Not against a plushie. Against him. The real him.
"Much better," Xavier muttered, tightening his hold on her.
But the damage was done. He'd watched her lavish attention on that toy all week. Watched her smile at it, talk to it, cuddle it.
She needed to make it up to him.
---
**Twenty Minutes Later**
Nana woke slowly, blinking sleepily. She felt warm and safe, wrapped in familiar arms. Xavier's scent surrounded her, and she smiled, snuggling closer.
Then she remembered.
"Wait, where's mini Lumiere?" She sat up, looking around frantically.
Xavier's arm tightened around her waist, pulling her back down. "In the corner. Where he belongs."
She looked at him, confused. "Why did you throw him?"
"Because you were hugging him instead of me."
"Xavier, he's a plushie—"
"I know what he is." Xavier's tone was flat, controlled. Too controlled. "A plushie that's been getting more attention than your actual husband."
Nana blinked. Then comprehension dawned, and she had to bite her lip to keep from laughing. "Are you... are you jealous? Of a stuffed toy? Of yourself?"
"I'm not jealous." He looked away, his jaw tight. "I'm just... observing that you've been very affectionate with a piece of fabric lately."
"Xavier." She cupped his face, turning him to look at her. His ears were slightly pink. "You're actually jealous of mini Lumiere."
"Don't call him that. Don't give him a name."
She couldn't help it—she burst out laughing. "You're ridiculous! It's a plushie of you! If anything, you should be flattered!"
"I'm not flattered watching my wife kiss a toy version of me while ignoring the real thing."
"I don't ignore you—"
"You talk to him. You sleep with him. You use that pretty mouth to kiss his fabric head." Xavier's eyes darkened. "That mouth should be kissing me. Not him."
The shift in his tone made heat pool low in her belly. This wasn't playful annoyance anymore. This was genuine possessive jealousy.
"Xavier—"
"You need to make it up to me." He sat up, pulling her into his lap. "For neglecting your husband in favor of a plushie."
"Make it up to you?" She tilted her head, trying to read his expression. "How?"
"However I want." His hands settled on her hips possessively. "Starting with an apology."
"I'm sorry?" She tried, still not quite sure what he wanted.
"Not good enough." His thumb traced her lower lip. "You've been using this mouth to talk to him, kiss him. I want it on me instead."
Oh.
Understanding dawned, and her cheeks flushed. "Xavier, that's—"
"Fair. It's completely fair." He leaned back against the headboard, his expression challenging. "Unless you think a plushie deserves more attention than your real husband?"
"Of course not!" She scrambled off his lap. "Wait here. Let me get you something as a peace offering—"
She rushed out of the bedroom, and Xavier heard her rummaging in the kitchen. When she returned, she was holding a small box of pink macarons—the fancy ones she'd been obsessed with.
"Here!" She offered them with a bright smile. "Your favorite! To say sorry!"
Xavier looked at the macarons. Then at her. Then back at the macarons.
"Starlight," he said slowly, "when I said I wanted your mouth on me, I didn't mean feeding me desserts."
"Oh." She blinked. "Then what did you—oh." Her face turned bright red as understanding finally clicked. "Oh!"
"Yes. Oh." He set the macarons aside on the nightstand. "Now, are you going to make it up to me properly? Or do I need to keep being jealous of that plushie?"
She bit her lip, looking at him with those wide eyes. "You really want me to...?"
"I really want you to." His voice dropped lower. "I've watched you kiss that toy all week. Now I want to feel that pretty mouth on me. Think you can do that?"
She nodded, her hands already reaching for his belt.
Xavier leaned back, watching as she carefully undid his pants. Even nervous and blushing, she was beautiful. Perfect.
And finally paying attention to the right version of him.
When she freed him from his boxers, he was already half-hard from anticipation. Under her focused gaze, he grew harder, and she made a small sound of appreciation.
"See what you do to me?" he murmured. "The real me. Not some stuffed version."
"I'm sorry," she whispered, and this time it sounded genuine. "I didn't mean to make you jealous."
"Then make it up to me." He threaded his fingers through her hair gently. "Show me which version of me you really prefer."
She leaned down, her breath hot against him, and pressed a kiss to the tip. Xavier's breath hitched.
"Good start," he managed. "But I need more than that. Use that mouth that's been so chatty with the plushie. Let's see if it's as talented as I remember."
She took him into her mouth slowly, and Xavier groaned. Warm and wet and perfect—so much better than watching her kiss a toy.
"That's it, starlight," he encouraged, his hand gentle in her hair. "Just like that."
She worked him with enthusiasm if not expertise, her tongue exploring, her lips tight around him. Every few moments, she'd look up at him through her lashes, checking his reaction.
"You're doing so well," he praised, his voice rough. "Much better than kissing plushies. This is where your mouth belongs."
She hummed around him, and the vibration made his hips jerk.
"Fuck—do that again—"
She did, and Xavier had to grip the sheets to keep control. She was learning quickly what he liked, what made him groan, what made his hands tighten in her hair.
But before he could get too close, he gently pulled her off.
"Xavier?" She looked confused, worried. "Did I do something wrong?"
"You did everything right. Too right." He pulled her up and into his lap, positioning her so she was straddling him. "But I'm not coming in your mouth. Not for the first round at least."
"First round?" she squeaked.
"Oh, starlight." His smile was dangerous. "You think one round makes up for a week of plushie favoritism? We're going to be here a while."
He made quick work of her clothes, stripping her bare. When she was naked in his lap, he took a moment just to look at her.
"Perfect," he murmured. "My perfect wife. Much better than any plushie."
His hand slid between her thighs, finding her already wet. "Someone enjoyed having me in her mouth."
"Xavier—" His name came out breathless as his fingers circled her clit.
"I want you to ride me," he said, positioning himself at her entrance. "And while you do, I'm going to give you a percentage."
"A percentage?" She looked confused even as she began to sink down on him.
"Of how much I've forgiven you." He groaned as she took him deeper. "Right now, after that very nice mouth service, you're at... twenty percent."
"Twenty?!" She was fully seated now, both of them breathing hard. "That's barely anything!"
"Then I guess you better work harder." His hands gripped her hips. "Move for me, starlight. Show me how sorry you are."
She started to move, rising and falling in his lap. Xavier watched her face, cataloging every expression, every gasp.
"Better," he said after a few moments. "Twenty-five percent now."
"Only twenty-five?!" She moved faster, chasing both his forgiveness and her own pleasure.
"Mm. Maybe thirty if you kiss me properly. Not like you kiss the plushie. Like you kiss your husband."
She leaned down and captured his lips in a deep kiss, her tongue sliding against his—a perfect French kiss that made his control slip.
"Forty percent," he gasped when they broke apart.
"That's better!" She kept moving, kept kissing him, determined to earn his full forgiveness.
Xavier's hands roamed her body, touching, caressing, claiming. This was what he wanted—her attention fully on him, her body moving with his, her lips on his instead of some toy's.
"Fifty percent," he announced as she clenched around him. "Getting closer."
"What do I have to do to get to one hundred?" she whimpered.
"Come for me. Multiple times. Until you forget that plushie exists."
His thumb found her clit, circling it in time with her movements. She cried out, her rhythm faltering.
"That's it. Show me you're sorry."
She came with a cry of his name, clenching around him rhythmically. Xavier groaned but held back his own release through sheer willpower.
"Sixty percent," he said, not stopping his movements even as she trembled. "Keep going."
"I can't—I just—"
"You can." He flipped them so she was on her back, him above her, still buried deep. "And you will. Because you need to make it up to me properly."
He set a harder pace, driving into her with purpose. His mouth found her neck, biting down possessively.
"Mine," he growled. "Not the plushie's. Mine."
"Yours—oh god—Xavier—yours!"
He made her come twice more in that position before finally allowing himself to follow. When he came, groaning her name, he buried himself as deep as possible.
They collapsed together, breathing hard. But Xavier wasn't done.
"Seventy-five percent," he announced.
"You're killing me," she whimpered.
"You started this with your plushie obsession." He kissed her softly, contradicting his words. "Now you finish it."
He took her two more times—once with her on her hands and knees, once with her pressed against the wall. Each time, he gave her a percentage update, drawing out her desperate need for his complete forgiveness.
By the time they finally collapsed for the last time, completely exhausted, she was a trembling, oversensitive mess.
"Percentage?" she managed weakly.
Xavier pretended to think about it. "Ninety-eight percent."
"Ninety-eight?!" She looked outraged despite her exhaustion. "After all that?!"
"The last two percent," he said with a lazy smile, "comes from promising to pay more attention to your real husband than any plushies. Even cute ones. Even ones of me."
"I promise," she said immediately. "I promise I promise I promise. Real Xavier gets all my attention. Plushie Lumiere is banished to the shelf."
"Good answer." He pulled her close, pressing kisses to her face. "One hundred percent. Fully forgiven."
"Finally," she mumbled, already half-asleep from exhaustion.
Xavier held her close, satisfaction warming his chest. She was thoroughly loved, completely satisfied, and had promised to abandon the plushie in favor of him.
Mission accomplished.
Though as he looked over at the corner where the Lumiere plushie had landed, he felt a twinge of pettiness.
Tomorrow, he was donating that thing.
Or maybe burning it.
He hadn't decided yet.
But for now, he had his wife in his arms where she belonged, too exhausted to even think about stuffed toys.
Perfect.
⭐⭐⭐
**The Next Morning**
Nana woke sore, satisfied, and very much aware of what had happened the night before. She turned to find Xavier already awake, watching her with sleepy contentment.
"Morning, starlight."
"Morning." She stretched, wincing slightly. "You're very thorough when you're jealous."
"I wasn't jealous. I was righteously indignant."
"You were jealous of a plushie."
"A plushie that was stealing my wife's attention."
She laughed and kissed him softly. "For the record, real Xavier is infinitely better than plushie Lumiere."
"I should hope so. I can actually satisfy you. He's just stuffing and fabric."
"True." She snuggled closer. "Though he is very cute."
Xavier's eyes narrowed. "Nana."
"But not as cute as you!" she added quickly. "Real you is the cutest! And the hottest! And the best husband ever!"
"Better." He relaxed slightly. "Though I'm still considering burning that plushie."
"Xavier, no!"
"Xavier, yes."
"It was a limited edition!"
"Then it can be a limited edition bonfire."
They dissolved into laughter, trading kisses and playful arguments. And if the Lumiere plushie mysteriously disappeared from the apartment later that week, Nana decided not to ask too many questions.
After all, she had the real thing.
And real Xavier was definitely better than any plushie.
Even if he was ridiculously, adorably, possessively jealousy.