#I love their forehead kisses but this one was so tender I loved it

[finelinevogue]

start again

summary - you and azriel are going through the mating frenzy [ 18+ WARNING ]

word count - ~1k

🦇•🤎•🦇•🤎•🦇•🤎•🦇•🤎•🦇•🤎•🦇•🤎•🦇

“I-I can’t.” You whimpered as Azriel pulled you up and onto his lap, his cock still snug inside of you.

“You can and you will.”

Azriel tried to sound demanding and strong, but in reality he was falling to pieces no thanks to the mating bond that was alight between you and him.

You panted heavily as your arms wrapped around his neck, scrunching at the wisps of hair on the back of his neck to exert some of the tension your body was feeling.

Azriel’s arms sat tight around your waist, keeping you firmly where he wanted you - together.

“Fuck.”

His forehead dropped to your chest and you felt him breathe in heavily, drinking in the scent of you and the bond. It was utterly overwhelming and completely intoxicating.

Neither of you could get enough of each other - not even for a quick drink or rest.

If you and Azriel died because you couldn’t stop consummating the mating bond then it would be a lovely way to go.

You kissed his forehead as he shifted his hips up slightly. Your mouth dropped open at the feeling of him pushing further into you. This angle was neither new to you nor your favourite, but it felt all too consuming in that moment that you never wanted it to end.

Azriel pushed his hips up again and you started to understand the rhythm and pace he wanted, so you helped him by moving your body in tandem with his.

Your chest glided against his - bodies sticky and hot after being with each other for hours and hours now.

One of Azriel’s hands travelled down to your hip, pushing your body down with force as he moved down.

It was so overwhelming. You felt like you’d lost your mind.

Azrie untucked his head from your chest and nudged your face down to meet his. Your teeth clashed together in a messy kiss, both of you fighting for dominance even though you both knew he’d win in the end.

The room became hotter than it already was, the glow of many a candle burning as hot as your skin.

Your pace increased. You moved up and down quicker whilst your kisses became more and more urgent.

You whimpered as Azriel kept hitting the spot you knew would eventually be your downfall. You didn’t need to say anything for Azriel to know that he was doing things just right and to keep going. He’d learnt everything about your body and continued to with every stroke.

“Mother above…” Azriel muttered, his lips moving away from yours messily and head moving backwards as he came close to his release.

The feeling of your breasts moving up and down his chest was so erotic that you couldn’t form a single coherent thought. It was just pure bliss.

“Az…”

“I know, I know.” He said softly.

Because Azriel knew you so well he knew you’d not be able to reach a climax in this position without a little bit of help - not that he minded at all.

One of his hands moved from your hip to your clit, thumbing over the right spot well enough to make your toes curl and your mouth drop open as you tried to catch a breath.

Azriel noticed how quick your breathing was, his own a very similar pace, and took the opportunity to dive his teeth against your neck to kiss the tender skin there.

He’d already marked a few spots on your neck - bruising them nicely - but there was always room for another. You weren’t present enough to stop him, even though you’d shout at him for it in the morning.

“I’m…”

“Yeah…”

“Please.. Az….”

“I’ve got you. So… good.”

You and Azriel came together.

It was a pleasure like no other. Your body so heightened you thought you might visit heaven.

Azriel was tucked so far inside you, you could feel him come inside of you and claim you once again. The grunting sound he made when he came was so animalistic it almost made you want to come again.

Your body quickly slumped into his as your high started to lessen. Your eyes - which went starry - started to focus on the room again and on him. Your mate.

His arms were still tucked around you, holding you close.

“Will it ever stop feeling so good?” You chuckled breathlessly into his neck, finding home there for now as you came back to life.

“Probably not.”

“You’re literally dripping inside me and I already feel like we need to go again.”

It was Azriel’s turn to chuckle this time, “Fine by me.”

He flipped you onto your back and started kissing down your body ready to - as you put it - start again.

[ladyymiisa]

PINCH ‘EM!

summary: katsuki just loves your cheeks!

tags: katsuki bakugo x fem!reader, fluff, katsuki and reader are still in high-school, katsuki is a tease

author’s note: starting the new year off strong with katsuki fluff!! i luv him sm

if there’s one thing about you that drives katsuki absolutely insane on a daily basis, it’s your cheeks.

those soft, round, ridiculously cute, rosy cheeks that make his brain glitch like an old vending machine. they give him such violent cuteness aggression that he’s genuinely considered throwing himself off a rooftop just to reset. it’s humiliating, really, how much power your dumb face has over him.

but watching you eat? that’s a whole other level of torture. the way your cheeks puff out with every bite, like you’re stockpiling food for winter, makes his eye twitch in equal parts annoyance and affection. he calls you chipmunk, because honestly, you might as well be one. it’s absurd, it’s irrational, and it’s ruining his life. but here he is, still watching, still obsessed, like the fool he is.

“kats—ow!” you whine mid food gulp, flinching as his fingers suddenly latch onto your cheeks like a crab on a mission. with zero warning, he starts squishing and pulling them, treating your face like it’s his own personal stress toy. “what the hell are you doing?”

you manage to gripe, trying to pry his hands off your poor, defenseless cheeks. your words are muffled as he stretches them in every direction, but he doesn’t bother answering. he’s far too focused on whatever weird satisfaction he’s getting from turning your face into putty in his hands.

“try that again,” he growls, giving your cheeks another firm pinch, his fingers digging into the soft flesh. “and i’ll squeeze ‘em even harder.”

you glare at him, your face still trapped in his grip. it’s hard to take him seriously when his smug smirk is stretched across his face like he just won the lottery. however, it’s clear that your discomfort is his entertainment, and it makes you want to bite back, but you can’t seem to muster the energy to do so.

meanwhile, katsuki is having the time of his life. it’s not his fault your skin is so damn malleable, like some kind of stress ball he can just squish and pull at his leisure. with every pinch, your face contorts in the most ridiculous ways, and it only makes his shit-eating smirk grow wider, as if he’s proud of the mess he’s making.

“y’look so stupid,” he mutters under his breath, loud enough for you to hear, though it sounds more like he’s speaking to himself. “stupid chipmunk,” he murmurs, his voice low, almost fond.

before you can even process what’s happening, his face is in front of yours, and with no warning, he plants a big, exaggerated smooch right on your lips. it’s awkward, considering how he’s still squishing your cheeks together, making your lips pucker out like a weird fish, but somehow, you can’t help but find it endearing.

then he does it again, this time a bit harder. and again. and again. each kiss lands wherever he can reach—your lips, your nose, your forehead, even your eyelids—like he’s trying to cover every inch of your face. you feel warmth spread across your chest from the tenderness of his gestures, even if they’re a little ridiculous. despite the absurdity of the situation, there’s something unexpectedly sweet about the way he’s so gentle with you, even when he’s teasing you relentlessly.

you’re about to tease him right back for being such a softie, ready to throw out a playful jab when, of course, he just has to ruin the moment.

“ew, katsuki!” you yelp, your voice high-pitched with surprise as he suddenly sinks his teeth into your right cheek. it’s not hard enough to hurt, more like a playful nip, but it’s wet and the way his tongue shamelessly flickers against the bite mark sends an unexpected shiver down your spine. you try to push him off, but he’s latched onto you like some feral animal,

“seriously?!” you gasp, squirming in his grip, but he remains completely unbothered. “this is disgusting! my cheek’s all wet now!” you cry, twisting and turning in his arms, trying to wipe the saliva off with your shoulder.

“serves you right for biting my shoulder earlier. y’thought i’d forget? hah.” he says with a wicked smirk, leaning back just enough to admire the mess he’s made of your face—flustered, pouty, and still glistening with the aftermath of his attack.

you groan, smacking his chest in frustration, but the bastard doesn’t even flinch. in fact, he looks proud of himself.

“you’re the absolute worst, katsuki bakugo.” you glare at him, half-exasperated, half-amused.

“yeah, i’m fuckin’ terrible,” he grins, clearly enjoying the annoyance in your voice. to emphasize his words—and to annoy you even further probably—he pinches the same cheek he just bit like an overbearing grandma checking to see if you had enough to eat.

yup, katsuki loves your cheeks, especially when they’re all flushed because of him.

[s7nburn]

Gf!ellie Headcannons

- This consist of streamer!Ellie also because I need streamer!Ellie in my life RIGHT NOW

- modern!au

- a/n: sorry this is short, just wanted to post something cutesy. Also I've done some deep digging and I think I'm a lesbian so uh yeah :)

🌿 gf!ellie definitely buys you cute little trinkets, she knows you love them. Whenever she sees anything that's reminds her of you she immediately puts it in her cart.

🌿 gf!ellie who does not know how to cook for the life of her. Sometimes if y'all wanna do a cute little at home date, she'll try to cook for you but ends up burning the food to a crisp.. so y'all just end up ordering take out.

🌿 streamer!ellie who never stops talking about you when she's on stream.

- "Chat y/n would look so hot wearing this" and it's a hot dog costume.

- or whenever you walked into the room while she was screaming she'd play the people cheering and clapping on her soundboard.

🌿 gf!ellie who orders the most basic food at a restaurant. The options are so diverse but she ends up getting chicken tenders and fries, you never quite understand it.

🌿 gf!ellie who's aftercare is magnificent. She's all over you, cuddles, kisses, you name it.

- your head on her chest, one leg over hers. Your light snores fill her ears, she pets and plays with your hair, leaning down to give you a quick peck on the forehead. She couldn't have asked for anything better.

[greengoblinswifey]

New Year’s Gift—Fratboy!Nicholas Chavez x Fem!Reader

summary— nicholas spends New Year’s Eve with you, and after a night of celebration and teasing intimacy, you have your way with each other back at your parents’ house.

warnings— sub!nicholas, lap dance, praise kink, choking, nipple play, oral(m&f receiving), unprotected sex, creampie.

a/n— happy new year my babies <3

The New Year’s Eve party was in full swing at a rooftop bar in your city, the skyline glittering behind you as music pulsed through the air. You were perched on Nicholas’ lap in one of the lounge areas, his arm draped casually around your waist, holding you close. His fingers absently traced the curve of your hip as he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder.

“You smell so good,” he murmured, his voice barely audible over the music.

“You’ve told me that like a hundred times tonight,” you teased, twisting slightly to face him.

“Well, you do,” he said with a shy grin, his cheeks flushing. He hesitated for a moment before adding, “You know, this is gonna be my first New Year’s kiss.”

You raised a brow, feigning surprise. “No way. Not even a random one in a frat house or something?”

He shook his head, looking almost embarrassed. “Nope. Never. Guess I was waiting for the right girl.”

Your teasing smirk softened into a grin. “Well, aren’t you lucky? You’ve got me now.”

The night passed in a haze of laughter, music, and drinks. Your friends cheered you on as you joined the dance floor, swaying to the rhythm, but Nicholas stayed behind, his eyes following you like you were the only one in the crowded room.

When you returned to him, the bass thumping in your chest, you slid onto his lap, giving him a lap dance and letting your ass bounce on him with the beat. Your friends hollered from across the lounge.

“Yes bitch!” one of them called drunkenly.

Nicholas groaned softly, his hands resting on your waist to steady you. “You’re gonna make it real hard for me to behave in front of your friends, you know that?”

You leaned in, your lips brushing his ear. "Who said I wanted you to behave?"

The countdown approached, and you were both on your feet, standing close as the crowd surged around you. Nicholas pulled you to him, his hands framing your face as the crowd began shouting.

“Ten! Nine! Eight!”

“Ready?” you asked.

“More than ready,” he replied, his eyes locked on yours.

“Three! Two! One!”

Cheers erupted as fireworks lit up the night sky, but Nicholas didn’t seem to notice anything but you. He cupped your face, tilting your head back as he kissed you with a passion that stole your breath. The crowd faded away as his lips moved against yours, his touch firm yet tender. You wrapped your arms around his neck, letting yourself get lost in the moment.

“I love you,” he murmured against your lips, his voice soft.

“I love you too,” you whispered back, your hands brushing through the hair at the nape of his neck.

He smiled, pressing his forehead to yours. “Cheers to many more New Year’s together.”

“Many more,” you echoed.

As the party began to wind down, Nicholas slipped his hand into yours. “Ready to head home?” he asked, his tone teasing.

You grinned, leaning in to whisper, “I’ve got that gift for you waiting.”

His brows arched, a curious smile tugging at his lips. “Oh, yeah? What is it?”

You let your hand trail briefly over his bulge that was hard from the kiss, smirking when you felt him tense. “You’ll see,” you said coyly, walking ahead, leaving him flushed and eager to follow.

The two of you stumbled into the entryway of your parents’ house, the warmth of the evening still buzzing through your veins. His lips were on yours before you even had the chance to hang up your coat, his hands finding your waist and pulling you flush against him. His kisses were unhurried but intense, each one deepening as his hands roamed up and down your ass.

You let out a small laugh, breathless as you broke away for a second. “Careful, Nick, my mom’s vase is right there,” you warned, glancing nervously at the antique piece on the entry table.

Nicholas blinked, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. “Noted,” he said, stealing another quick kiss. “We don’t want her to whoop both our asses, right?”

“Exactly, you’re learning,” you teased, grabbing his hand and carefully leading him up the stairs.

The moment you closed your bedroom door behind you, he was on you again, his hands on either side of your face as he kissed you senseless. His usual shy demeanor melted away in the dim light, replaced with something desperate and eager.

But two could play at that game. You gave him a little push, and he stumbled back against the wall, his wide eyes blinking at you in surprise. “W-what are you doing?” he asked, his voice laced with curiosity and a hint of nervousness.

You smirked, stepping closer until your hands were on his chest, feeling the rapid thump of his heartbeat. “Something I know you’ll like,” you murmured.

Before he could respond, you sank to your knees, your hands trailing down his sides as his breath hitched.

“Wait, are you—” Nicholas started, but his words caught in his throat when you looked up at him, your eyes glinting with lust.

“Relax,” you said softly, running your palms over his thighs. “I’ve got you.”

His hands fluttered at his sides before one settled on the back of your head as you freed his heavy, hard cock, his touch hesitant but full of trust. “You’re gonna be the death of me,” he muttered, his voice strained, but the corners of his mouth twitched into a smile.

You grinned up at him, taking your time, reveling in how utterly undone he was by you taking him down your throat. His head fell back against the wall, his chest rising and falling in uneven breaths as your tongue glided along his long shaft, your movements teasing. You stroked the base as you took him in half way, bobbing your head slowly but steadily while you slid your tongue on him.

“God,” he whispered, his free hand gripping the wall behind him as his knees wavered. “You’re too good at this.”

You smiled around his cock and looked up at him, his trembling figure making your head swoon. Your hands went to his balls, gently kneading them as you took him in the back of your throat, bobbing your head faster. Every soft moan and shiver from him made you take him even deeper, gagging on his cock and getting it sloppy just the way you knew he liked it. You titled your head, sucking his balls, licking the base of his cock then back to his balls as he whimpered under your touch.

“J-just like that baby, you’re doing amazing,” he whimpered, fingers tangling in your hair.

You allowed him to guide you on it, deep throating him as pre cum and saliva dripped onto your tits and tears pricked the corner of your eyes. No matter how much you gagged, you took him down your throat, keeping him there as your lust blown eyes stared up at him shaking and practically losing himself.

“Oh God, I’m gonna cum baby. Please let me cum in your mouth,” he whimpered, his head falling back against the wall.

You chuckled softly, your own heartbeat racing as you deep throated his cock and stroked the base and his balls as they twitched in anticipation. His quiet murmurs of your name mixed with breathless praises only fueled your confidence as his load shot down your throat, and the way he looked down at you, like you were the only thing that mattered in the world, made your head spin.

When his knees finally gave a subtle shake, you pulled him out of your mouth with a loud pop, rising to your feet with a smile. “Didn’t think I’d let you have all the fun, did you?”

Nicholas laughed, breathless and thoroughly flustered. He pulled you into his arms, burying his face in your neck as he tried to catch his breath. “You’re seriously gonna be the death of me, now let me return the favor,” he repeated, his breath shaky.

Before you could protest, he swept you into his arms and carried you over to the bed, laying you down with a care that made your heart flutter. He hovered over you for a moment, his eyes tracing every inch of your face.

“Nick,” you started, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Shh,” he interrupted, pressing a kiss to your lips. “Let me take care of you.”

He began a slow descent, his kisses trailing from your lips to your jawline, down the curve of your neck, taking off your blouse and moving lower still. Each press of his lips on your skin sent shivers through your body.

When he reached his destination, he looked up at you with a smirk, his fingers lightly grazing your clit. “You have no idea how much I love eating your pussy,” he murmured, his voice husky.

You felt your cheeks heat up, but before you could respond, he dipped his head, his actions making you gasp. He worked with a kind of precision that left your head spinning, his tongue gliding along your slit both gentle and hungry.

“God, you taste so good,” he murmured against you. His hands gripped your hips firmly, holding you in place as he continued. His tongue explored you with precision, flicking and slurping you as your entire body shook.

Your fingers tangled in his hair as your soft praises filled the room. “Nick, baby, that feels so good,” you managed, your voice shaky.

He chuckled softly, the vibrations sending a new wave of pleasure through your body. “Yeah? Just relax for me, baby,” he whispered, his tone soothing. “Let me show you how much I love you.”

He did exactly what he said. He showed you how much he loved you, practically making love to your pussy. He ravished you, burying his face deep in your core, smearing your juices all over his face. His mouth engulfed you, sucking as you writhed underneath him. His tongue slipped inside your hole, coaxing soft moans out of you then licking back up to your clit and flicking it before placing soft kisses all over it.

Each praise, each flick of his tongue, sent you spiraling further, and when your moans grew louder again, he looked up briefly, his lips glistening with a smug grin. “That’s it,” he murmured, his voice warm and encouraging. “Cum for me. Be my good girl.”

You felt like you were floating, your mind lost to the way he worshipped you. Every kiss on your clit, every movement, was filled with a devotion that left no room for doubt. You cried out, your hands tugging his hair as your release shot through you and you squirted all over his face. When he finally pulled back, his lips curved into a satisfied smile as he leaned over you, brushing your damp hair from your face.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips.

Breathless and utterly disarmed, you let out a soft laugh. “And you eat my pussy so good, baby” you replied.

He smirked, leaning down to kiss you once more. “What can I say? I aim to please.”

You guided him to sit back against the headboard, his chest rising and falling. His hands rested on your waist as you straddled him, your fingers tracing the sharp line of his jaw. The intimacy in his gaze sent a shiver through you, making your heart race.

“You want me to ride you baby? Are you sure you want to do this? Just wanna make sure.” you said, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to his lips.

His grip on your hips tightened, his voice low and steady. “Always. Especially with you.”

As you sank down onto his hard, thick cock, his head tipped back, exposing his throat, and a deep moan escaped his lips. His hands roamed your sides and waist, holding you as if you would slip away from him.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured. “I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you.”

His praise sent a rush of heat through you, and you leaned into him, your hands trailing up his chest before finding their way to his neck. You tilted his head to meet your eyes. “And you’re so good for me,” you whispered, your voice dripping with affection. “My good boy.”

A low noise escaped him, and his hands gripped your waist even tighter. “You have no idea what that does to me,” he muttered, his words edged with desperation.

You smiled, running your thumbs over his jaw. “Oh, I know,” you teased, leaning down to kiss him again, your lips brushing his with deliberate slowness. “I can feel it.”

Nicholas’ breath hitched as you bounced on his cock, your body fitting together perfectly. His hands found their way to your chest, sliding to your tits, his fingers pinching your nipples. Your pussy rose and fell on him, each time you came down he practically hit your cervix.

“You’re so big,” you murmured against his lips, your hands tangling in his hair. His response came in the form of a shudder, his lips parting with a soft moan.

“God,” he whispered, almost to himself. “You make me crazy.”

You leaned in, your lips brushing his ear as your fingers trailed down his chest. “Good,” you said softly. “I want to drive you crazy. You’re mine, Nick.”

He looked up at you, his eyes dark but tender. “Yours,” he repeated.

His hands began groping your tits and you bit your lips looking down at him all needy for you. Cock big and throbbing inside you, hair sticking to his forehead, cheeks red and eyes full of need. You absolutely loved having him at your mercy and it was going to continue into the new year. Each time you bounced on his cock, your jiggled and he replaced his hands on them with his mouth, swirling his tongue over your nipples as your pussy glided up and down his cock. You reached down, rubbing your clit fast and clenching around him, the action making him perch right on the edge.

“Clenching around me so tight, I love your pussy baby. M’gonna cum, please cum with me baby. Cum with me while I cum inside your pussy,” he groaned, his eyes rolling into the back of his head.

His praise awoke something feral inside you, and your bounces grew faster and full of emotion. His hands gripped your waist firmly, guiding your rhythm as his lips found your neck, leaving a trail of kisses that made you shiver.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his voice warm and encouraging. “You feel so good, baby. I’m about to—.”

The room seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in the quiet intimacy of it all as your pussy soaked his cock and he filled you up. Your hands stayed on him, his chest, his neck, his shoulders, pulling him closer inside you.

When you finally stilled, breathless and glowing, Nicholas pulled you close, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“You’re incredible,” he whispered, his hands tracing lazy patterns on your back.

“And you’re mine,” you replied, your voice soft but certain, resting your forehead against his.

Nicholas chuckled, brushing his lips against yours once more. “Always.”

[ar-ghilas-vir-banal]

I can’t imagine what waking up in the Fade is like for both Lavellan and Solas. I feel like, based on the BlueSky response, that them getting to the Lighthouse somehow is a bit of a given.

Solas is badly hurt. Like. I don’t know how he’s standing before they cross over but you can bet he doesn’t last long like that. Lavellan drags that man there. Or. Maybe in a stroke of cosmic kindness, it’s exactly where they find themselves when they step through.

It takes hours to peel that man out of his armor and tend to all the cuts. There seem to be thousands. He’s too weak to stop her and he weeps when she kisses each one, not minding bloody lips. Lots of talking with and without words for them both in that quiet time of mending and reconnecting. But finally, Solas is clean, tended and in his bed, in his home.

Lavellan is finally there to watch over him. She can rest. He’s safe. And she’s with him. It’s a miracle. So she lies down where she can crook her head into his shoulder and not press down on him, and they both sleep.

And then the waking up.

Solas is sure it was all just a dream. A lovely one. Made of his deepest horrors and wishes. Finds himself in the Lighthouse and just “Ah. I became drunk and passed out. Again. *cough*.” But then he hears breathing near his ear, quiet and rhythmic. Someone sleeping.

It hurts but he turns his head and… no. This is still a dream. This is impossible. He’d know that scent on her hair anywhere. Who else would keep a protective hand on his shoulder as they slept? This can’t be real…

Then it’s Lavellan’s turn. She’s pulled from sleep by the sound of Solas on the verge of hyperventilating and she starts awake, terrified that he’s in pain or worse. “Vhenan? What is it? What hurts?”

Only to be devoured by the most tender of gazes. He doesn’t say a word or move a muscle. He’s too awed. Light comes through the window as if by his bidding and sets her aglow with all the heavenly radiance that befits her. And he can only stare.

“S-Solas?” So she leans down to check on him. Is he so weak that he can’t say? Worry and fear claw at her as she touches his chest, his neck, his face. “Talk to me. What’s wrong?”

She can’t know what this feels like to him. Her fingers seem to reach down past the flesh and bone, finding his spirit, mending the tears and rips suffered over the millennia at each careful press of a fingertip.

By the time her hands get to his face, Solas’ eyes are trying to roll back in his head of sheer delight. But then she gives a quiet hum of amusement and presses a kiss to his forehead.

The man is now good and boneless. And Lavellan can only smile, a bit pridefully, at how much he obviously enjoys just the barest touches. Her Wolf. Her Man. Her Heart. She’s wanted for so long to simply be free to love him as much as she wanted to, to protect him. And now she gets to.

“Absolutely nothing.”

“Hm?”

“You… asked me what was wrong, Vhenan. Absolutely nothing is wrong.”

“Then kiss me, as we have both wanted.” And after a smile that Solas can honestly say he never thought to wear again, he does.

[brooklynnbbg]

hiii could i request virgin!luigi x virgin!reader?? i havent stopped thinking about that one anon that said if he cums first he’d be a crying overstimulated mess still fucking into you until you cum too ughhh😭😭

♡ WARNINGS - Smut! unprotected p in v, overstimulation

♡ A/N -  This might be my favorite fic I've written. I'm sorry it goes on so long!! He's so sweet guys I'm melting. Huge shoutout to the anon who submitted the virgin! Lu thought in the first place!! <3

The room was dimly lit, soft shadows cast by the bedside lamp as you and Luigi lay together, a nervous energy buzzing between you. His fingers were trembling slightly as they brushed over your cheek, his brown eyes gazing into yours with a mix of awe and uncertainty.

“You’re sure?” he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “We can wait if you’re not ready.”

You smiled, leaning into his touch. “I’m sure, lu. I want this… I want you. I've never been sure about anything in my life before, but I'm sure about this”

His breath hitched at your words, and he nodded slowly, his lips parting to let out a shaky exhale. “I—I’ve never done this before,” he admitted, his cheeks flushing a deep red. “I don’t want to mess it up.”

“Me neither,” you confessed, your heart racing. “But we’ll figure it out together.”

Luigi leaned down, capturing your lips in a tender kiss. It was unhurried and gentle, his hands exploring your body with hesitant reverence. Every touch was careful, like he was afraid he might hurt you, but it only made you feel more cherished.

Slowly, he worked to remove your clothes, savoring each moment admiring your body.  When you were completely naked,  Luigi pulled back slightly, his eyes drinking you in. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I don’t even have the words, amore mio.”

Your cheeks heated, and you reached out to run your fingers through his soft curls. “You’re beautiful too, Lu” you whispered, watching as his blush deepened.

He settled between your legs, his hands smoothing over your thighs as he positioned himself. His movements were awkward, but there was something endearing about the way he kept glancing at you for reassurance.

“Tell me if it hurts, okay?” he said, his voice trembling. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I will,” you promised, your hands resting on his shoulders. “Just go slow.”

Luigi nodded, taking a deep breath before he pushed forward slightly. The stretch was new, a little uncomfortable, but the way he was looking at you—with so much love and care—made it easier to bear.

“Oh my God,” he breathed, his head falling forward as he slid deeper into your wet folds. “You’re so—so tight. You feel incredible.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you tightened your grip on his shoulders, encouraging him to keep going. He moved slowly, his breaths coming in short, uneven gasps as he finally sank all the way in.

Luigi froze, his forehead pressing against yours as he let out a shaky moan. “F-fuck, you feel like heaven,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I—I didn’t know it would feel like this.”

You were both still for a moment, adjusting to the sensation. His hands trembled where they rested on your hips, and you could see the effort it took for him to stay still.

“You can move,” you said softly, brushing your fingers through his hair. “It’s okay.”

He nodded, pulling out slightly before pushing back in. His movements were hesitant at first, but as he found a rhythm, the sounds falling from his lips became more desperate. He was moaning freely, each thrust accompanied by breathy whimpers and whispered praises.

“You’re perfect,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re so perfect. I can’t believe you’re mine.”

Your own breaths were coming faster, the pleasure building steadily as his hips rocked against yours. But Luigi was clearly struggling, his brow furrowed and his jaw clenched as he tried to hold back.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out, his voice cracking. “I’m gonna cum, fuck, you just feel too good.”

“It’s okay Lu,” you said, your hands cupping his face. “I love you.”

His eyes filled with tears at your words, and he let out a broken sob as he thrust into you again. “I love you too,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “So much.”

Luigi's thrusts stuttered, his body trembling as he buried himself inside you. The warm, wet sensation of his release spread between you, and he let out a strangled moan, collapsing forward as tears spilled down his cheeks.

“I’m so sorry,” he whimpered, his forehead pressed against yours. His breath was shaky, his lips brushing yours as he spoke. “I-i didn’t mean to—I just… you feel so good, I couldn’t hold it. I’m sorry.”

His apologies came in a torrent, his voice breaking with every word as he blinked back tears. But even as he spoke, he didn’t stop moving. His hips rocked forward in slow, shallow thrusts, his overstimulated body shivering with each motion.

“It’s okay, lu,” you whispered, cupping his face to wipe away his tears with your thumbs. “You don’t have to apologize. I love you.”

“I love you too,” he choked out, his voice filled with desperation. “I just—I need to make you feel good. Please let me… let me take care of you.”

He was trembling, every thrust drawing a broken whimper from his lips. His body was clearly overwhelmed, his muscles tensing with each movement, but he refused to stop. His hands gripped your hips tightly, grounding himself in the sensation of your soft skin beneath his fingers as he pushed through the overstimulation.

“God, you’re so perfect,” he murmured, his voice a mix of reverence and raw emotion. “You feel like heaven. I—I don’t deserve you.”

“You- you do,” you assured him, your own voice thick with emotion. It felt good, so good. You could barely get your own words out.  Tears pricked at your eyes as you felt the sincerity in his words, the way he was pouring every ounce of himself into making sure you felt as cherished as he did.

Luigi’s movements grew more desperate, his breaths coming in sharp, uneven gasps as his body strained to keep going. His lips trembled, soft cries escaping with every thrust. “It’s so much,” he admitted, his voice cracking. “I want to make you feel good. I need to make you feel good.”

You could see the tears streaming down his face, the way his lashes clumped together as he blinked rapidly, trying to see you through his haze of pleasure and emotion. His moans turned into soft, breathless sobs, his hands gripping your hips tightly enough to leave faint marks as he tried to maintain his rhythm.

“I love you,” he repeated, his voice breaking with each word. “I love you so much. You mean everything to me.”

His forehead stayed pressed against yours, his tears mingling with your own as you both cried from the overwhelming intensity of the moment. His hips bucked slightly, the overstimulation evident in the way his body shuddered, but he refused to stop.

“I—I’m sorry,” he whimpered again, his lips brushing yours. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to ruin this for you.”

“Didn't ruin anything” you said softly through your moans,  your fingers threading through his hair to hold him close. “You’re p-perfect, Luigi.”

Your reassurance seemed to fuel him, and he let out a shaky moan, his pace quickening slightly despite the way his body quaked. Every thrust sent a jolt through him, his breaths hitching as he fought through the intense sensation.

“I can’t stop,” he confessed, his voice trembling. “It’s too much, but I can’t stop. I need to make you feel good. Please—please tell me I’m doing okay.”

“It f-feels so good,” you assured him, your own tears slipping down your cheeks. “Im close”

His lips found yours in a messy, desperate kiss, his moans muffled against your mouth as he continued moving. The raw vulnerability in his expression, the way his body shook with every motion, made your heart swell. He was giving everything he had to you, and it was the most beautiful thing you’d ever experienced.

When you finally reached your peak, your body trembling beneath him, luigi let out a soft, broken sob. He clung to you, his face buried in your neck as his own body shook with the effort of holding himself together.

“I love you,” he whispered again, his voice hoarse but filled with unwavering devotion. “I love you so much.”

Tags: @nicholaschavezslut69, @ddlydevotion, @italianbabydaddy, @rckerbell, @slavicdolls4mangione, @perfumeaddicted @yeeterang @days12 @v1rtualsalvat10n @bricapellan16 @sleeepytimebear @preiyers @hdh-57jcidm-blog, @mypastdoesntdefineme0

[aventurineswife]

OH sure!! If you'd like <3 but no pressure ! 💕 I just think the chat you made was very adorable but also funny KWDHJSJW ❤️ but if you write it, then make sure to tag me 👁️💕

Lean Down, Lift Up

Summary: In the quiet observation car of the Astral Express, you share an intimate moment with Sunday, encouraging him to set aside his reflective worries. As his ethereal presence softens in your touch, a simple kiss bridges the gap between his celestial grace and his humanity, reminding him of the solace found in love.

Tags: @vivisboutique, @iruiji, @timascorner, @flavishly, Sunday x Reader, Established Relationship, Fluff, Tender Moments, Height Difference, Soft Sunday, Vulnerability, Introspection.

A/N: help why did Fallen Angel by Chris Grey started playing...🧍‍♀️ (Lmao listening to fantastic and got reminded of that one CaitVi(from Arcane) scene ahem... 🫣) enjoy btw! This man needs to get out of my head, he's living rent free here... 🤺

The Astral Express hummed gently beneath your feet, its steady rhythm lulling the silence between you and Sunday. The observation car was empty at this hour, the vast expanse of stars beyond the glass stretching into infinity. You glanced up at him, his ethereal presence lit by the soft glow of the cosmos. His halo shimmered faintly, golden light catching in his hair as he gazed at the stars, lost in thought.

Sunday’s tall frame cast a serene shadow, his wings folded neatly behind him. You smiled softly, appreciating the way his composed demeanor betrayed his subtle vulnerability. His eyes, so often reflective and distant, turned to meet yours. The navy pupils seemed to flicker like a calm sea under starlight.

“Is something on your mind?” he asked, his voice gentle, airy, and tinged with genuine curiosity.

You shook your head, stepping closer to him. “Not exactly. I just… thought you looked too serious.”

Sunday’s lips curved into a faint smile, though there was a hint of weariness in his expression. “It’s hard not to be, with so much to think about.”

“Well,” you said, tugging lightly on his gloved hand, “maybe you need a break from all that thinking.”

He arched an elegant brow but allowed you to pull him down slightly toward your level. “A break, you say? And how do you propose I take one?”

“Like this,” you whispered, leaning up on your toes. You placed a soft, lingering kiss on his lips, the faint scent of sandalwood and starlight enveloping you as his wings twitched slightly in surprise. His halo flickered, golden light brightening briefly before stabilizing.

For a moment, Sunday froze, as if caught off guard. Then his hand rested gently on the back of your head, deepening the kiss ever so slightly. When you pulled away, his eyes softened, and a flush of warmth crept across his usually composed face.

“You could’ve just asked,” he murmured, his voice quieter than usual, tinged with a rare, boyish shyness.

“Well, where’s the fun in that?” you teased, brushing a strand of hair away from his face. “Besides, you’re so tall, I had to make you lean down first.”

Sunday chuckled—a low, melodic sound that you rarely heard. “You always manage to surprise me,” he admitted, his hand lingering on yours as he spoke. “Even after all this time.”

You felt your heart swell at the rare vulnerability he allowed himself to show. Sunday often seemed untouchable, an ethereal being burdened by the weight of his ideals. But in these quiet moments, he was just a man—one who loved and was loved in return.

“I’ll keep surprising you then,” you said softly, pressing your forehead to his. “As long as you promise to take more breaks like this.”

His wings fluttered faintly, a telltale sign of his amusement and affection. “I suppose I don’t have much choice, do I?”

“Nope,” you replied, grinning up at him. “Not when you’re stuck with me.”

Sunday’s smile widened slightly, a flicker of peace crossing his features. “Then I’ll consider myself lucky,” he said, his voice filled with a quiet reverence that made your chest tighten.

The stars continued to stretch endlessly before you, but in that moment, the universe felt small—a little brighter, a little warmer, with Sunday by your side.

[blue-jisungs]

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ MASSAGE 🧸ྀི

summary your bf gives you a massage • wc 600

[ extras ] might be a lil suggestive, reader is said not to be wearing a bra (real); could be read as both (non)idol ji

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ note ! i actually forgot i wrote this one a while ago… man i love jiwoong sm<3 ALSO FIRST WORK OF 2025 WE CHEERED!

jiwoong entered your room, a small sigh leaving his lips upon noticing your slumped posture over a file of papers.

“how’s it going?” he asked, approaching you. the view of all the materials, books, and notes brought him pain – he couldn’t even imagine the effort you poured into studying.

“bad. good. i don’t know. like, on one hand i understand it and i get it… but once im doing exercises without context or notes… i don’t. a blank. and my head is spinning” you rambled, leaning on your chair once you felt his hands resting on your shoulders.

jiwoong hummed. he really wished he could help, maybe explaining or researching. but he couldn’t, sadly.

“my back hurts so much…” you groaned.

unless…

“maybe because you’ve been sitting like a shrimp for the past two hours?” he teased, his fingers gently caressing your skin.

“first of all, rude” you scoffed and raised your head to look at him – and his boyish smile “second of all, true”

“i think i can lend a helping hand for that” he hummed and turned your chair around, moving aside.

“okay. but don’t take too long, i need to finish those notes” you sighed, knowing deep down you need a break. you did feel guilty a bit, after all you got distracted a couple of times. and now another break? you felt like–

“turn off your brain for ten minutes. it shouldn’t be hard” jiwoong scoffed and helped you stand up, only to gently push you in the bed.

“okay… whatever…” you sighed, looking at him expectantly.

“lay on your stomach” he ordered and you did so, resting your head against pillows and plushies.

then, you felt his gentle touch raising your shirt up. he pulled it to the base of your neck, goosebumps already raising in your skin and heat hitting your face. you didn’t have a bra… it’s not like you were exposed but it still made you shy.

“is this okay? you’re all tense” he asked, shuffling closer.

“yeah, just… if i would’ve known, i’d wear something else…” you mumbled shyly.

“easier access” jiwoong shrugged nonchalantly and traced small shapes on your back “i’m gonna give you a massage, okay?”

“mhm” you hummed, not really expecting much. sure, it’ll help you relax and all-

once jiwoong’s calloused hands sturdily started caressing your back, you knew you were done for. he put pressure in all the right places, kneading your skin from top to bottom. stopping by your hips, his thumbs gently rubbed all the soreness away.

jiwoong’s touch was working miraculously, you could feel yourself relaxing. occasionally he stroked your sides tenderly, almost feather-lightly, causing you to let a small giggle from the ticklish feeling.

he didn’t forget about your neck too, massaging the muscles as if his life depended on it. meanwhile, your eyelids began to feel heavy.

the harshness of his palms’ texture brought a feeling of comfort on its own.

suddenly, he moved his hand to feel your vertebrae through your skin. when he started pressing on them, going down one by one, you groaned softly.

“this feels nice” you mumbled, not even sure if he heard you.

before you could realize, you were out like a baby.

jiwoong smiled proudly, his movements halting once he heard your soft snores. only then he leaned away and laid down next to you, pressing a tender kiss onto your forehead. eventually he put your shirt down and pulled a comforter over your sleeping figure.

“rest well, my smart baby” jiwoong hummed and closed his eyes as well, falling asleep next to you.

masterlist !

taglist. @slytherinshua ,, @weird-bookworm ,, @haecien ,, @stryroses

[dreamersworldduh]

HIS HEART

• CLARK KENT x MALE!READER

SUMMARY — The night after Clark's proposal, he's filled with joy and excitement, feeling on top of the world as he basks in your love and the promise of your future together. Proud and grateful, he's eager to share the news with your closest friends and family, wanting them to witness the love that has profoundly changed his life.

WARNING! 18+ MDNI.Suggestive Langauge. Swearing. Violence.

WORDS! 8.6k

AUTHOR'S NOTE! Firstly, Happy New Years, dreamers! Welcome to 2025, let’s have an amazing year. Secondly, this is a sequel to HIS HOME—I couldn’t resist it, I hope you enjoy 😉✨

By morning, the soft golden light of dawn spilled through the half-drawn curtains, casting a tranquil glow across the room. The apartment was quiet, the only sounds the faint hum of the city waking up outside and the rhythmic, steady breaths of Clark as he slept beside Y/N. Everything about the moment felt perfect—still, warm, and filled with the unshakable weight of love.

Y/N stirred first, his eyes fluttering open slowly as he became aware of the comforting press of Clark's chest against his back. One of Clark's arms was draped securely around his waist, holding him close, while the other rested lightly over his hand. The touch of Clark's fingers brushing against the cool metal of the ring now circling Y/N's finger sent a familiar rush of warmth through him.

The ring.

Y/N turned his head slightly, glancing at the simple, elegant band that glinted softly in the morning light. The memories of the night before came rushing back: the flickering candles, Clark's trembling hands, the way his voice had trembled with emotion when he asked the question that changed everything. A breathless smile curved Y/N's lips as he traced the ring's edges with his thumb, savoring the reminder of the love that had brought them to this moment.

He lay there for a moment longer, basking in the glow of last night's joy, until he felt Clark shift behind him. Clark's arm tightened instinctively around his waist, pulling him closer. Y/N smiled as he felt the warmth of Clark's breath tickling the back of his neck, and soon after, Clark stirred fully awake. His eyes blinked open, hazy with sleep, before they settled on Y/N, and his lips curved into a tender, lazy smile.

"Good morning," Clark murmured, his voice low and gravelly from sleep.

Y/N turned in Clark's arms, his heart skipping at the unguarded softness in Clark's expression. "Good morning," he whispered back, his fingers reaching up to brush a lock of dark, tousled hair from Clark's forehead.

Clark's gaze dropped to Y/N's hand, and his smile deepened when he saw the ring catching the sunlight. Without hesitation, he took Y/N's hand, bringing it to his lips to press a lingering kiss to his knuckles. His blue eyes sparkled with love as they met Y/N's.

"My fiancé," Clark said softly, the words carrying both reverence and joy, as if testing the way they sounded. His thumb brushed gently over the ring, his touch sending a familiar warmth through Y/N's skin. "My fiancé," he repeated, his voice softer, savoring the title like it was the sweetest thing he'd ever spoken.

The words sent a rush of happiness through Y/N, who couldn't help but smile. "Your fiancé," he echoed, the sound of it thrilling and new, the meaning settling deeper into his heart.

Clark's grin turned playful now, boyish and full of pure, unrestrained joy. "That's right. My fiancé." His tone was teasing, but his eyes were soft, filled with so much love it was overwhelming. "I don't think I'm ever going to get tired of calling you that."

Y/N chuckled, the sound light and full of affection. "Good," he replied, his cheeks warm, "because I'm never going to get tired of hearing it."

Clark didn't hesitate as he leaned in, capturing Y/N's lips in a kiss that was slow and lingering, each second steeped in the promises they had already made and the countless ones they would keep in the future. The world outside could wait; this moment was theirs alone.

When the kiss broke, Clark's forehead rested gently against Y/N's, and his voice dropped to a whisper. "I love you, my fiancé."

"I love you too," Y/N replied, his voice soft but sure. The way Clark held him—the way he looked at him—made Y/N feel like the only person in the world.

They stayed wrapped in each other's arms, the morning stretching around them like an unbroken promise. Clark's hand slid along Y/N's thigh, grasping it firmly and wrapping it around his waist, pulling them impossibly closer. His lips found the soft curve of Y/N's neck, brushing slow, deliberate kisses against his skin.

The faint green glow of the clock on the bedside table caught Clark's eye, and for a fleeting second, he registered the time: 7:39 AM. They had work soon, and the world would eventually come knocking. But right now, Clark didn't care.

His hands moved with gentle but deliberate strength as he shifted Y/N onto his back, their bodies pressing together in the morning light. The room filled with nothing but the quiet sounds of their breathing and the faint rustle of sheets. Clark's lips never left Y/N's neck, trailing slow, deliberate kisses along his jawline and down to the sensitive spot just beneath his ear. Each touch of his lips sent a shiver down Y/N's spine, his fingers instinctively gripping at Clark's strong shoulders.

As Y/N's chest rose and fell beneath him, Clark's hands slid lower, caressing every inch of skin with an intimacy born from years of love and trust. His fingers found the waistband of Y/N's boxers, his movements patient but full of intent. Y/N let out a soft gasp as Clark slipped them off with ease, the fabric sliding away to reveal him fully. Y/N's dick sprang free, his body already reacting to Clark's touch, his breaths coming a little quicker as Clark's gaze roamed over him with a mix of adoration and desire.

Clark's lips continued their journey, pressing soft kisses to Y/N's collarbone before trailing back up to his neck. His voice dropped to a husky whisper, warm and intimate as he spoke. "You're so beautiful," he murmured, his words barely above a breath but filled with raw emotion. "I love every part of you."

Y/N felt his cheeks flush at Clark's words, his heart pounding as the deep sincerity in Clark's voice washed over him. "Are you... trying to go for round—what?— Five?" he asked, his tone teasing but his voice still trembling slightly from Clark's overwhelming presence.

Clark pulled back just enough to meet Y/N's gaze, his deep blue eyes filled with a mix of tenderness and longing. A playful smile tugged at his lips as he brushed a lock of hair from Y/N's forehead. "Of course," he replied softly, his hand returning to Y/N's thigh, gripping it firmly. "I want to please you... every day, every moment of the day."

The intensity of Clark's words sent a spark of heat through Y/N, and his hands reached up to cup Clark's face, pulling him into a slow, passionate kiss. The connection between them was electric, their breaths mingling as Clark's hands explored Y/N's body with care, reverence, and unyielding devotion.

The warmth between them was palpable, their bodies pressed close together. Clark's hands caressed Y/N's sides, his touch firm yet tender, grounding them in the intimacy of the moment.

Without breaking their gaze, Clark leaned back just enough to reach for the waistband of his own boxers. The fabric slipped down effortlessly, revealing him fully, his dick springing free and already glistening with arousal. The raw need in his expression was softened only by the undeniable love that radiated from his every touch and movement.

Y/N's breath hitched at the sight, his own arousal stirring further as he felt Clark's body move against his. The vulnerability, the strength, and the overwhelming passion in Clark's actions sent a shiver through Y/N's entire body. Clark's hands returned to Y/N's thighs, gripping them gently as he settled closer, their skin now completely bare against each other.

Clark's voice dropped to a husky whisper, rich with affection and desire. "You're everything to me," he murmured, his lips finding the curve of Y/N's neck once again, pressing slow, heated kisses along his sensitive skin. "I want to make you feel how much I love you... in every way."

His words sent a wave of warmth through Y/N, his hands reaching up to thread through Clark's dark hair, pulling him closer. Their breaths mingled, the heat between them building as Clark's movements became more deliberate, his lips exploring Y/N's neck, collarbone, and chest with reverence.

Time seemed to stand still as the world outside faded, leaving only the two of them wrapped in the intensity of their connection. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered word carried the weight of their love—a bond that transcended words and was expressed in every deliberate, passionate motion.

Clark's devotion was undeniable, and Y/N could feel it in every moment, every inch of closeness they shared, as their love deepened and unfolded in the quiet sanctuary of their morning together.

By 8:46 AM, Clark and Y/N began their familiar routine, moving around the apartment to get ready for the day ahead. The remnants of the night and early morning lingered in the air—a soft glow of love and intimacy that neither could quite shake.

Y/N stood at the bathroom sink, toothbrush in hand, glancing in the mirror at Clark, who was leaning casually against the doorframe, his eyes following Y/N's every move. His hair was still slightly tousled, his shirt unbuttoned, revealing glimpses of his toned chest. There was a playful smirk on his lips, one that Y/N recognized all too well.

"You're staring," Y/N said, his voice muffled slightly as he brushed his teeth, his reflection meeting Clark's in the mirror.

Clark grinned, unrepentant. "Can you blame me?" he teased, stepping forward and wrapping his arms around Y/N's waist from behind. His chin rested on Y/N's shoulder, and he placed a soft kiss on the curve of his neck. "I'm just admiring my fiancé."

Y/N rolled his eyes, though the smile tugging at his lips betrayed his feigned annoyance. "We're already running late," he said, spitting out the toothpaste and rinsing his mouth.

Clark hummed in response, clearly unconcerned about the time. His hands slid down to Y/N's hips, pulling him closer, his body pressing firmly against Y/N's back. "What's a few extra minutes?" he murmured, his lips brushing Y/N's ear. "I don't think I've had enough of you yet."

Y/N turned around, leaning back slightly against the sink as he raised an eyebrow at Clark. "Didn't we just—?"

"Not enough," Clark interrupted, his tone playful but his eyes warm and full of affection. He leaned down, capturing Y/N's lips in a kiss that was slow and lingering, his hands roaming up and down Y/N's sides.

Y/N pulled back with a soft laugh, placing his palms against Clark's chest. "Clark, we really need to get ready."

Clark sighed dramatically, his hands reluctantly letting go as he stepped back, though the mischievous glint in his eye remained. "Fine," he said, running a hand through his hair. "But I can't make any promises about keeping my hands to myself later."

Y/N shook his head, his cheeks flushing slightly, but he couldn't stop the smile spreading across his face. "You're annoying."

"And you love it," Clark shot back, grabbing his tie from the counter and tossing it around his neck as he moved to the bedroom.

As Y/N adjusted his tie in the mirror, Clark stepped up behind him, resting his hands lightly on Y/N's shoulders. Their reflections in the mirror showed a couple glowing with happiness, their eyes meeting with shared excitement. Clark leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Y/N's temple before meeting his gaze in the mirror.

"I've been thinking," Clark began, his voice warm and casual, though his eyes sparkled with a hint of nervous energy.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, turning slightly to face him. "Oh? Should I be worried?"

Clark chuckled, his hands sliding down to rest on Y/N's hips. "Not at all," he replied, leaning in for a quick kiss before pulling back. "I just... I was wondering how you'd feel about having my parents and some of our friends over for dinner this weekend."

Y/N's expression softened, his curiosity piqued. "Dinner?"

Clark nodded, his lips curving into a boyish smile. "Yeah, dinner. I think it's time we share the news." He gently took Y/N's hand, brushing his thumb over the ring that glinted in the morning sunlight. "I want everyone to know about us, about our engagement. About how much you mean to me."

Y/N's breath caught for a moment, the sincerity in Clark's voice striking a chord deep within him. "Clark..." he murmured, his voice trailing off as a warm smile spread across his face.

Clark's grip on Y/N's hand tightened slightly, his gaze steady and filled with love. "I want to tell my parents, my friends... everyone who matters to us. I want them to celebrate this with us, to see what we've built together. And to see how lucky I am to call you mine."

Y/N felt his cheeks flush, a mix of pride and affection swelling in his chest. "You sure your mom's not going to cry the second we tell her?" he teased lightly, though his voice carried a hint of his own emotion.

Clark laughed, the sound warm and genuine. "Oh, she's definitely going to cry. And my dad's probably going to give one of his heartfelt speeches." He paused, his grin softening into something more intimate. "But that's what makes it special, right? Sharing this moment with the people who love us."

Y/N nodded, his hand tightening around Clark's. "I think it's a great idea," he said softly. "Let's do it."

Clark's smile widened, his relief and excitement evident. He leaned down, capturing Y/N's lips in a quick but tender kiss. "You're amazing," he murmured against Y/N's lips.

"You're not so bad yourself," Y/N replied with a chuckle, resting his forehead against Clark's.

As they continued their morning routine, the thought of sharing their engagement with family and friends added a new layer of excitement to their day. The idea of their loved ones gathered around the table, celebrating their love and future together, filled both of them with warmth and anticipation.

Clark's hand lingered on Y/N's as they left the apartment, his mind already buzzing with plans for the dinner that would mark the next chapter in their lives.

The hum of activity surrounded Y/N as he worked diligently at his desk, the tapping of his keyboard punctuating the soft murmur of office chatter. He was deep in thought, reviewing a LexCorp report that demanded his full attention, when his phone buzzed on the edge of his desk. Without looking, he reached for it, his focus still on the screen in front of him.

"Hey, love," he answered casually, balancing the phone between his ear and shoulder as he continued typing. The familiarity of the caller didn't require a second glance.

On the other end, Clark's voice came through, warm and steady, though there was a faint undercurrent of strain—something Y/N didn't immediately notice in his focus. "Hey, baby. How's work going?"

Y/N smiled faintly, leaning back in his chair as he gave his full attention to the call. "Busy, as usual. You caught me in the middle of a deadline, but I always have time for you. What's up?"

In the background, Y/N could hear faint noises—odd whooshes, distant crashes, and what might have been a roar. He frowned, his curiosity piqued. "Where are you? It sounds like you're outside."

Clark chuckled softly, though there was a hint of exertion in his voice now. "You could say that. I'm with the League right now... handling a situation."

That was when Y/N picked up on the subtle pauses in Clark's words, the heavy breaths between sentences. He straightened in his chair, concern flickering in his expression. "Clark. What kind of 'situation' are we talking about here?"

There was a loud crash on Clark's end of the line, followed by a muffled shout from someone Y/N recognized as Wonder Woman. "It's nothing to worry about, I promise," Clark said quickly, though Y/N could practically hear him dodging something. "Just a... mystical creature trying to tear apart downtown. But it's under control. I'm fine."

Y/N pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling slowly. "You're calling me... in the middle of a battle? Clark, what are you doing?"

"I'm multitasking," Clark replied lightly, though the strain in his voice was becoming harder to mask. Another roar echoed in the background, and there was a faint crackle of what sounded like magical energy. "Besides, it's important."

Y/N's brow furrowed, equal parts exasperated and amused. "Oh? And what's so important that you're calling me while fighting a mystical creature with the Justice League?"

"Well..." Clark hesitated for just a moment before continuing. "I was thinking about the dinner party this weekend. You know, the one where we're announcing our engagement?"

Y/N blinked, utterly thrown by the sudden change in topic. "Yes, I remember. What about it?"

Clark let out a small grunt of effort, likely mid-action, before responding. "I wanted to know what you're planning to cook. I thought maybe we could do something special. Your lasagna, maybe? Or those little appetizers your mom taught you to make?"

Y/N stared at his phone, momentarily speechless. "Clark. You're calling me right now, while fighting God-knows-what, to talk about dinner plans?"

"I mean, it's an important dinner!" Clark protested, his tone entirely earnest despite the chaos clearly unfolding around him. "I want everything to be perfect for us, for our parents, and for our friends."

Y/N rubbed his temples, shaking his head even as a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Clark, you're ridiculous, you know that?"

"I try," Clark replied, and Y/N could practically hear the grin in his voice. A loud roar interrupted their conversation, and Clark's voice came back slightly muffled. "Diana! On your left!"

Y/N groaned softly. "You're actually fighting something right now, aren't you?"

"Yes, but don't worry—" Clark started, his voice calm despite the clear pandemonium in the background. "Bruce is handling strategy, and Barry's keeping civilians out of harm's way. I'm just... improvising. Like I said, it's under control."

Y/N sighed, shaking his head but unable to suppress a laugh. "Alright, fine. Yes, I can make lasagna. And maybe the appetizers, if you promise me one thing."

"Anything," Clark replied quickly, his voice full of affection even as there was a distant thud on his end.

"Come back in one piece," Y/N said firmly, his tone softening with concern.

Clark's voice turned warm and reassuring. "Always," he promised. "I love you. I'll call you once this is wrapped up."

"Love you too, Clark," Y/N replied before hanging up, shaking his head as he set the phone back on his desk. His heart was full, despite the absurdity of the moment.

And as he returned to his work, he couldn't help but smile, knowing that even in the middle of chaos, Clark's thoughts were always with him.

The creature let out a deafening roar before crumbling to the ground in a heap of glowing embers, its mystical energy finally dissipating into the night air. Clark floated a few feet above the ground, his cape billowing in the breeze as he scanned the area to ensure the threat was completely neutralized. Around him, the members of the Justice League began to regroup, their faces showing a mixture of relief and pride at another mission accomplished.

"That was... something," Barry said, leaning against a lamppost, still catching his breath. "What even was that thing?"

Diana sheathed her sword with practiced ease, her expression calm but resolute. "A creature of chaos magic," she replied. "Not easily vanquished, but we handled it well."

Arthur kicked a piece of glowing debris, his trident resting against his shoulder. "Handled it? More like dragged it down kicking and screaming. That thing was stubborn."

Hal smirked, his Green Lantern ring dimming as he folded his arms. "Stubborn or not, we still showed it who's boss."

Clark landed softly, his boots touching the cracked pavement as he adjusted his posture. His face was calm but his thoughts were elsewhere. As the team exchanged light banter and assessed the scene, he glanced at Bruce, who stood a little apart from the group, his cape pooling around him like a shadow. Bruce was already typing something into a small device on his gauntlet, clearly preparing to leave.

Clark cleared his throat, drawing everyone's attention. "Good work tonight, everyone," he said, his voice steady and authoritative. "I know it wasn't easy, but the city's safe, thanks to all of you."

"Team effort," Diana replied with a small smile, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

"Team effort that I'm starving from," Barry added, rubbing his stomach. "Do we have a Justice League catering service yet?"

Clark chuckled softly, his usual warmth returning to his voice. "No catering service, but I do have something to ask all of you."

The group turned toward him with varying degrees of curiosity. Even Bruce paused his work and glanced up.

Clark hesitated for just a second, then smiled. "Y/N and I are hosting a dinner party this weekend. We wanted to bring everyone together—not for a mission or a battle, but just to share a meal and spend time with the people we care about."

Barry's face lit up immediately. "Dinner party? I'm in. Do you need me to bring anything? Because I'm bringing something."

Hal raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Big Blue hosting a dinner party? This I've got to see. Count me in."

Arthur chuckled, leaning on his trident. "As long as there's plenty of booze, I'm there."

Diana's smile softened, her gaze warm. "It's a wonderful idea, Kal. I'd be honored to join you."

Clark nodded, his expression brightening as he looked around at the team. "Great. It's nothing fancy—just some good food and company. Y/N and I thought it would be nice to spend some time with all of you outside of League missions."

His gaze shifted toward Bruce, who had remained silent throughout the conversation. Clark took a step closer to him, his voice dropping slightly. "What about you, Bruce? Will you join us?"

Bruce's eyes narrowed slightly, his usual unreadable expression firmly in place. "You're hosting a dinner party," he said, his tone flat. "And you want me there?"

"Yes," Clark replied, his voice unwavering. "You're part of the team. And more than that, you're my friend."

Bruce's gaze flicked toward the others, who were all watching the exchange with varying levels of interest and amusement. He exhaled softly, his arms crossing over his chest. "Dinner parties aren't exactly my thing."

Clark smiled knowingly. "I didn't think they were, but it wouldn't be the same without you."

For a moment, Bruce said nothing, his sharp eyes studying Clark. Finally, he nodded, albeit reluctantly. "Fine. But don't expect me to be social."

Clark's grin widened. "I wouldn't dream of it."

Barry leaned toward Hal, whispering loudly enough for everyone to hear, "Did we just witness Batman RSVP to a dinner party?"

Hal snickered. "I think we did."

"Save it," Bruce said flatly, though the faintest hint of a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

With the invitations extended and the team dispersing to return to their respective cities, Clark felt a sense of satisfaction. The hardest part—convincing Bruce—was done. Now all that was left was to prepare for the evening. As he flew home, the thought of everyone gathering around the table, sharing laughter and stories, filled him with warmth.

What they didn't know—what none of them knew yet—was that this wasn't just a dinner. It was the start of something new, something he and Y/N were excited to share with the people who meant the most to them. But for now, he'd let the anticipation build. The big news could wait until the right moment.

The kitchen buzzed with energy as Clark and Y/N worked side by side, preparing the dinner that would soon bring together their closest friends and family. The warm, savory aromas of simmering sauces, roasting vegetables, and fresh herbs filled the air, mingling with the soft hum of their favorite playlist playing in the background. The golden glow of the kitchen lights reflected off polished counters and the dishes they had meticulously chosen, adding to the cozy, inviting atmosphere they'd created.

Y/N stood at the counter, carefully chopping fresh basil and parsley while glancing at a handwritten recipe card propped up against a jar of olive oil. Clark, across from him, was stirring a pot of fragrant marinara sauce on the stove, his movements fluid and relaxed, though his occasional glances at Y/N betrayed his inability to fully focus on the task at hand.

"You're staring again," Y/N said with a soft laugh, not even bothering to look up from his chopping. His voice was warm, teasing.

Clark grinned, utterly unrepentant as he set the wooden spoon down and leaned casually against the counter. "Can you blame me? You're cute when you're focused."

Y/N rolled his eyes but couldn't stop the small smile tugging at his lips. "Flattery isn't going to help you with the sauce. Keep stirring before it burns."

Clark chuckled and pushed off the counter, resuming his task but sneaking another glance in Y/N's direction. "The sauce is fine. You, on the other hand... are a distraction."

Y/N set the knife down, turning to face him fully with a raised eyebrow. "Oh? And how exactly am I distracting you?"

Clark didn't answer right away. Instead, he crossed the space between them in two quick steps, his arms sliding around Y/N's waist as he pulled him close. Y/N let out a soft laugh of surprise, his hands instinctively resting on Clark's broad chest.

"Like this," Clark murmured, his voice low and playful. He leaned down, brushing his lips lightly against Y/N's, teasing him with barely-there kisses.

"Clark," Y/N protested weakly, though his hands curled slightly into Clark's shirt. "We have a dinner to prepare. People are coming over."

Clark's grin widened, and he pressed a kiss to Y/N's forehead before pulling back just enough to meet his eyes. "We've got plenty of time," he said confidently. "And if they show up a little early, I'll just tell them we're... busy."

Y/N laughed, shaking his head. "You're so needy," he said fondly, but there was no denying the warmth in his voice or the way he leaned into Clark's embrace.

"Yet you love me," Clark shot back with a wink before stepping back to give Y/N room to work. He returned to the stove, stirring the sauce with renewed focus, though the soft smile on his face lingered.

The two continued their dance around the kitchen, moving in perfect harmony as they worked. Y/N taste-tested the marinara, offering Clark a spoonful, which he accepted with an exaggerated "mmm" that made Y/N roll his eyes. Clark, in turn, helped Y/N season the lasagna layers, sprinkling just the right amount of cheese while sneaking playful pecks on Y/N's cheek whenever he got close enough.

At one point, as Y/N was plating appetizers, he felt Clark's arms snake around his waist again, pulling him gently away from the counter. "Clark," Y/N started, his tone half-scolding, half-amused.

"I just need one more," Clark said, leaning down to press a kiss to the side of Y/N's neck. "You can spare me thirty seconds."

Y/N sighed dramatically but turned in Clark's arms, resting his hands on his shoulders. "You're lucky you're cute," he said, leaning up to kiss him properly.

They stayed like that for a moment, wrapped in the warmth of the kitchen and the love they had built together. The world outside could wait, and even the dinner could wait for a few more seconds. Right now, this was theirs.

When they finally pulled apart, Y/N gave Clark a playful nudge. "Alright, back to work. If we burn the lasagna, I'm blaming you."

Clark laughed, grabbing a towel to pull the baking dish from the oven. "Don't worry, love. Everything's under control."

As the finishing touches came together—salads plated, drinks poured, desserts arranged on a decorative tray—the two took a moment to step back and admire their handiwork. The dining table was set with care, candles flickering softly against the elegant place settings, the air filled with the comforting scent of home-cooked food.

Clark slipped an arm around Y/N's waist, pulling him close as they looked at the table. "You know," he said softly, pressing a kiss to Y/N's temple, "I think this might be the best dinner we've ever made."

Y/N smiled, resting his head against Clark's shoulder. "It's not just the food," he replied. "It's us."

Clark tightened his hold, his voice low and full of love. "It's always us."

The soft chime of the doorbell rang out, cutting through the gentle hum of conversation as Y/N adjusted the centerpiece on the dining table one last time. Y/N glanced up, his heart skipping with excitement as Clark met his gaze with a reassuring smile.

"They're here," Clark said, his deep voice steady, though there was an unmistakable glimmer of anticipation in his eyes.

Y/N smoothed the front of his shirt, exhaling softly to steady himself. "Let's do this."

Clark crossed the room in a few long strides, his broad shoulders and calm demeanor exuding confidence as he reached for the door. When he opened it, the familiar, smiling faces of his parents—Martha and Jonathan Kent—were the first to greet him.

"Clark!" Martha exclaimed, stepping forward to wrap her son in a warm embrace. She barely reached his shoulders, but her love and pride radiated as if she could envelop him completely.

"Mom," Clark said warmly, leaning down slightly to hug her back. His voice softened as he added, "I'm so glad you're here."

Jonathan clapped Clark on the back with his usual firm but affectionate grip. "Good to see you, son. It smells amazing in here already. You two really went all out, huh?"

Clark chuckled, stepping aside to let them in. "We wanted tonight to be special."

As soon as they stepped through the door, Martha's eyes lit up as she spotted Y/N. "Y/N, sweetheart," she said, crossing the room with open arms.

"Hi, Martha," Y/N replied with a smile, leaning down to hug her. Her embrace was warm and familiar, and Y/N couldn't help but feel a sense of belonging every time she greeted him this way.

"You've outdone yourselves," she said as she pulled back, her hands lingering on his arms. "Everything looks beautiful."

"Thank you," Y/N said, his cheeks flushing slightly. "We're so happy to have you both here."

Jonathan stepped forward next, extending a firm handshake. "Y/N, good to see you," he said with an approving nod. "You've really made this place feel like home."

"That's the goal," Y/N replied, feeling a swell of pride.

Before they could settle in, the doorbell rang again. Y/N exchanged a quick look with Clark before moving to open it this time. On the other side stood his own parents, their faces lighting up the moment they saw him.

"Y/N!" his mom exclaimed, pulling him into a tight hug the moment the door swung open. Her voice was filled with emotion, and Y/N could feel the love and excitement radiating from her.

"Mom," Y/N said softly, holding her close for a moment before pulling back to greet his dad, who stood just behind her.

His dad extended a hand, his grip firm but filled with warmth. "Good to see you, son," he said with a proud smile. "And I have to say, this place already smells incredible."

"Thanks, Dad. It's great to have you both here," Y/N replied, stepping back to let them inside.

As they entered, Clark was already waiting with a friendly smile. He extended a hand to Y/N's father, shaking it firmly. "Mr. L/N, it's great to see you again."

"You too, Clark," he replied. "Though I think you can drop the formalities by now."

Clark chuckled, his easygoing demeanor putting everyone at ease. "Fair enough."

Y/N's mom beamed as she stepped forward to hug Clark. "Clark, it's so good to see you. You and Y/N have really outdone yourselves tonight."

"We're just glad you could make it," Clark replied, his tone sincere as he stepped aside to let them take in the setup.

As both sets of parents exchanged greetings and settled into the living room, Y/N and Clark exchanged a quick, knowing glance. The warmth and joy in the room felt tangible, and seeing their families come together like this was everything they had hoped for.

Y/N busied himself pouring drinks, while Clark made sure everyone was comfortable. Martha and Y/N's mom were already chatting animatedly about the dinner spread, while Jonathan and Y/N's dad swapped lighthearted stories.

Clark crossed the room to stand beside Y/N, his hand brushing lightly against Y/N's lower back. "I think this is off to a good start," he said softly, his voice filled with quiet affection.

Y/N smiled, leaning slightly into Clark's touch as he looked over at their parents. "Better than I could've hoped for."

The doorbell rang once more, Clark smiled warmly, squeezing Y/N's hand briefly before stepping toward the door.

"Ready for the next wave?" Clark asked with a hint of amusement in his voice.

Y/N laughed softly. "As ready as I'll ever be. Let's do this."

Clark opened the door, revealing the arrival of their extended family. Diana stood in the doorway, her presence commanding as always, but her smile was soft and welcoming. She was dressed elegantly, a touch of her Amazonian grace reflected even in casual clothes.

"Kal. Y/N," she greeted warmly, stepping forward to embrace Clark first. "Thank you for inviting me."

"Diana, you know you're always welcome here," Clark said, returning the hug.

She turned to Y/N, her expression softening even more as she leaned in for an embrace. "Y/N, it's wonderful to see you again. And the apartment—this is beautiful. I can already smell the love you two have put into tonight."

"Thanks, Diana," Y/N replied, his smile growing. "We're so glad you could make it."

Behind Diana, Barry appeared, practically bouncing with excitement as he zipped through the door. "Hey! I'm not late, am I?" he asked, his voice brimming with energy as he glanced around. "Oh, man, this place looks amazing! And is that lasagna I smell? Please tell me I'm smelling lasagna."

"Barry, you're early," Y/N teased with a grin, stepping forward to shake his hand.

"Yeah, but I didn't want to miss anything," Barry said, already eyeing the appetizers on the table. "You guys always throw the best dinners."

Hal and Arthur followed next, the two of them laughing as they stepped inside. Hal clapped Clark on the shoulder with his trademark grin.

"Big Blue," Hal said, his tone easygoing. "This setup looks way too fancy for just a dinner. You're hiding something."

Arthur nodded, smirking as he took in the spread. "I agree. No way you two pulled all this together without a reason."

Clark chuckled, shaking his head. "You'll just have to wait and see."

"Typical," Hal muttered, though his grin remained as he exchanged a firm handshake with Y/N.

Arthur gave Y/N a hearty pat on the shoulder. "Good to see you, Y/N. Thanks for having us."

"Wouldn't have been the same without you," Y/N replied sincerely.

Finally, Bruce arrived, fashionably late, as always. His dark suit and composed demeanor stood out against the warm, lively energy of the room, but his presence carried an understated respect that only he could manage.

"Clark. Y/N," Bruce said with a small nod as he stepped inside.

"Bruce," Clark greeted, shaking his hand firmly. "Thanks for coming."

Y/N extended his hand as well, feeling the strength of Bruce's grip as they shook. "It means a lot that you're here."

Bruce glanced around, his sharp eyes taking in every detail of the room. "This isn't just dinner, is it?"

Clark smiled knowingly. "You'll find out soon enough."

As the Justice League members settled in, the apartment buzzed with energy. Diana and Y/N's mom quickly struck up a conversation about the table settings, while Barry and Hal bantered loudly near the appetizers. Arthur found a spot near Jonathan and Y/N's dad, exchanging fishing stories that had everyone laughing, and Bruce, true to form, quietly observed the scene from a corner, though his subtle smile betrayed his approval.

Clark stepped up beside Y/N, slipping an arm around his waist as they watched the room fill with laughter and conversation.

"Think they're suspicious yet?" Y/N asked, his tone light but tinged with excitement.

"Oh, definitely," Clark replied, leaning in close so only Y/N could hear. "But they'll know soon enough."

The doorbell rang again, pulling Y/N and Clark's attention away from the lively chatter filling the apartment.

Clark stepped forward to answer the door. When he opened it, Jimmy Olsen practically bounded inside, his usual enthusiasm lighting up the doorway. His camera dangled around his neck, and his bright grin was as contagious as ever.

"Clark! Y/N!" Jimmy exclaimed, his voice brimming with excitement. "Man, this place looks amazing. You two really went all out!" He peered past them into the apartment, his eyes widening as he spotted the beautifully set dining table and the spread of food in the kitchen. "This smells incredible. Are you sure you're not secretly running a catering business on the side?"

Clark laughed, clapping Jimmy on the back. "Not quite, Jimmy. Come on in. Help yourself to some appetizers."

Jimmy didn't need to be told twice. "Don't mind if I do!" he said, heading straight for the table. "But seriously, this is top-tier hosting. You're going to spoil everyone."

Y/N shook his head, chuckling as he greeted Jimmy with a warm handshake. "Good to see you, Jimmy. I hope you're hungry—we've got plenty."

"I'm always hungry," Jimmy replied, grabbing a plate and eyeing the appetizers with wide-eyed appreciation.

As Jimmy busied himself with the spread, another figure stepped into the doorway. Lois Lane followed with her usual confident stride, pulling off her coat and handing it to Jimmy without breaking her pace. Her sharp gaze swept over the apartment, a small smirk tugging at her lips.

"Smallville, Y/N," Lois greeted, her voice carrying its signature blend of teasing and affection. "Well, look at you two. This setup is downright professional. Seriously, what's the occasion?"

Y/N and Clark exchanged a quick glance, the corners of their mouths twitching with barely hidden smiles. "Just wanted to get everyone together," Clark said smoothly. "It's been too long since we've had a proper dinner with friends and family."

"Uh-huh." Lois arched an eyebrow, clearly not buying the casual explanation. "Sure. You're definitely hiding something, and I'm going to figure it out before the night's over."

Y/N laughed, stepping forward to give her a quick hug. "Always the investigator, Lois. We're just glad you could make it."

Lois's expression softened, and she patted Y/N's arm. "Wouldn't miss it for the world. You know that."

As she made her way into the apartment, Lois paused briefly to admire the spread on the table. "Seriously, though. If this is just a casual dinner, I'm impressed. If not, then I better be the first to know whatever you're hiding."

Jimmy, now balancing a plate piled high with appetizers, chimed in, "I think the food alone is worth the mystery. But yeah, what's the deal, guys?"

Clark chuckled, shaking his head. "Patience. All will be revealed soon."

"Patience isn't my strong suit, Smallville," Lois quipped, though she grabbed a glass of wine and settled comfortably into a seat near Martha and Jonathan, who greeted her warmly.

Jimmy, meanwhile, wandered over to the Justice League members, his camera in hand. "Okay, this is wild," he said, looking between Diana, Barry, and Arthur. "I don't think I've ever seen this many heroes in one place without something blowing up."

Barry grinned, already halfway through a plate of food. "Hey, I'm just here for the lasagna."

Diana smiled knowingly. "It's good to gather like this—without chaos for once."

As Jimmy and Lois settled in, the apartment buzzed with energy. Y/N and Clark moved seamlessly between their guests, ensuring everyone had a drink and was comfortable. Y/N's parents chatted animatedly with Martha and Jonathan, while Lois and Diana struck up a conversation near the appetizers. Meanwhile, Jimmy tried unsuccessfully to get Bruce to pose for a candid shot, earning only a faint smirk from the usually stoic man.

Clark returned to Y/N's side, slipping an arm around his waist as they took a moment to survey the room. "Think they suspect anything yet?" he asked softly, his voice warm with amusement.

"Lois does, for sure," Y/N replied with a quiet laugh. "Jimmy probably just thinks we're trying to impress everyone with the food."

Clark smiled, leaning in close. "Well, the food is impressive. But it's not the main event."

"Not yet," Y/N said, glancing up at him with a grin. "But it will be."

With their closest friends and family now gathered under one roof, the stage was set for the announcement that would turn an already perfect evening into an unforgettable one.

The dining room hummed with cheerful conversation and laughter as the delicious aromas of the meal filled the air. Y/N stood at the kitchen counter, carefully plating up portions of lasagna, roasted vegetables, and golden garlic bread. His focus was on making sure each plate was perfect—every portion generous, every presentation neat and inviting. It was a small act of love, a way to show his appreciation for the people gathered around their table.

Clark stood beside him, ready to take each plate as it was finished. He leaned casually against the counter, his eyes filled with quiet admiration as he watched Y/N work. "You're amazing, you know that?" Clark murmured softly, just loud enough for Y/N to hear.

Y/N glanced up, his lips curving into a small smile. "I'm just making plates, Clark."

"No," Clark said, shaking his head slightly as he reached for the first plate. "You're making this whole night special. For everyone."

Y/N's cheeks flushed faintly, but he didn't respond, instead handing the next plate to Clark. One by one, Clark carried the plates to their guests, ensuring everyone had what they needed. Martha and Jonathan were the first to receive their plates, and Martha immediately beamed at the sight of the meal.

"This looks incredible," she said, her voice warm. "Thank you, Y/N."

Jonathan nodded, already inhaling the aroma. "Smells just as good as it looks."

Clark moved to the next table, setting plates in front of Y/N's parents. "Here you go," he said with a smile. "Straight from Y/N's hands."

Y/N's mom smiled brightly, her eyes crinkling with joy. "This is wonderful. You two really went all out."

"It's what we do," Clark replied with a chuckle, turning to grab another plate.

Barry, seated near the middle of the table, practically vibrated with excitement when Clark placed his plate in front of him. "Finally! I've been smelling this for hours—I'm starving."

"Take your time eating it, Barry," Diana said with a soft laugh, her plate already set in front of her. "It's a meal to savor."

"I'll try," Barry replied, though he was already digging in.

Clark continued handing out plates, moving effortlessly between the tables and flashing warm smiles at everyone. Hal raised an eyebrow as Clark set his plate down, smirking. "Tell me this isn't all Y/N's doing. You helped, right?"

Clark grinned. "I stirred the sauce," he said, earning a round of laughter from the group.

When the last plate was served, Y/N set down two plates on the counter—the ones for him and Clark. He wiped his hands on a kitchen towel, finally stepping back to admire the scene: their loved ones laughing, talking, and enjoying the meal he and Clark had worked so hard to prepare.

Clark approached him, his hand resting gently on Y/N's back. "Ready to eat?" he asked, his voice low and full of affection.

"Yeah," Y/N said with a smile, picking up his plate. But before he could move to a seat, Clark took both plates from him and set them down on the table.

Clark turned to him, his blue eyes shining with warmth. "Come here," he said softly, taking Y/N's hand.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, confused but amused as Clark gently pulled him toward one of the chairs. Instead of letting Y/N sit down, Clark settled into the chair himself and tugged Y/N down onto his lap. Y/N let out a small laugh, his arms instinctively wrapping around Clark's shoulders as he balanced himself.

"Clark," Y/N said, his voice low but full of affection. "There are people here."

"I know," Clark replied with a grin, his arms wrapping securely around Y/N's waist. "But this is our night, too."

Y/N shook his head, his cheeks flushing as he glanced around the table. Martha chuckled softly, sharing a knowing look with Y/N's mom. Lois smirked, raising an eyebrow in amusement, while Barry leaned over to Hal and whispered something that earned him a playful elbow in the ribs.

"You're impossible," Y/N murmured, though his voice was laced with warmth as he rested his forehead against Clark's.

"And you love it," Clark replied, leaning up to press a soft kiss to Y/N's temple.

With their plates in front of them, they finally began to eat, sharing quiet words and laughter as the warmth of the evening surrounded them. It wasn't just about the food or the gathering—it was about the love that radiated between them and the people they cared about most. In that moment, everything felt perfect.

As the meal wound down and the sound of laughter and conversation filled the apartment, Y/N glanced at Clark, who was seated beside him. Their hands brushed under the table, a small but reassuring gesture. Clark turned his head and met Y/N's gaze, his eyes full of warmth and encouragement. This was the moment.

Clark cleared his throat gently, tapping his fork against his glass. The soft chime rang out, catching the attention of their friends and family. Slowly, the room quieted, and all eyes turned toward them. Y/N felt a flicker of nervous excitement, but Clark's steady presence beside him gave him the confidence to speak.

"Thank you, everyone, for being here tonight," Clark began, his voice calm and strong, carrying easily over the room. His gaze swept across the table, lingering on the faces of their loved ones—Martha and Jonathan, Y/N's parents, Lois and Jimmy, and the members of the Justice League. "It means so much to have all of you here with us."

Y/N smiled, picking up where Clark left off. "We wanted tonight to be special because all of you are such an important part of our lives. You've been with us through so many milestones, and we couldn't imagine celebrating this next one without you."

The room fell completely silent, the weight of their words hanging in the air. Y/N's mom tilted her head slightly, her expression softening as if she already suspected what was coming. Lois leaned forward in her seat, her sharp eyes glinting with curiosity, while Barry's mouth hung open slightly, as if he were piecing it together.

Clark reached under the table, taking Y/N's hand in his own. He looked at Y/N, his eyes shining with love, before turning back to their guests. "Y/N and I have been through so much together—laughter, challenges, and everything in between. And recently..." He paused, glancing at Y/N with a smile that could have lit up the room. "I asked him a very important question."

Y/N smiled softly, his voice steady as he continued. "And I said yes."

Clark gently lifted Y/N's hand, revealing the elegant ring that now sparkled in the candlelight. "We're engaged," Clark announced, his voice filled with pride and joy.

For a moment, the room was completely still, the news settling in. Then, all at once, the silence gave way to cheers, applause, and exclamations of excitement. Martha gasped, her hands flying to her mouth as her eyes filled with tears. Jonathan beamed proudly, clapping Clark on the back from across the table.

"Congratulations!" Diana said, her voice warm as she rose from her seat to embrace them both. "This is wonderful news."

Barry practically leapt out of his chair, his excitement palpable as he gestured wildly. "I knew it! I knew it! This is amazing—when's the wedding? Can I bring cupcakes? No, wait, I'm making the cake!"

Lois smirked, raising her glass in a toast. "I knew something was up the moment I walked in. Congratulations, you two—you're perfect for each other."

Y/N's mom stood, pulling her son into a tight embrace, tears streaming down her face. "I'm so proud of you," she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. "And so happy for you both."

Jonathan shook Y/N's hand firmly before pulling him into a quick, fatherly hug. "Welcome to the family, son," he said, his voice thick with pride. "Though you've been part of it for a long time already."

Martha took Y/N's face in her hands, her smile radiant through her tears. "You make my boy so happy," she said softly, glancing at Clark. "And that's all a mother could ever ask for."

Even Bruce, seated quietly at the end of the table, offered a small nod of approval. "Congratulations," he said simply, his tone warm despite its brevity.

As the congratulations poured in, Clark and Y/N stood side by side, their hands intertwined. Y/N's heart swelled as he looked around the room, taking in the love and support from every person gathered there. This moment, surrounded by the people who meant the most to them, felt like the beginning of something truly extraordinary.

Clark leaned in close, his voice low enough for only Y/N to hear. "I told you they'd be happy."

Y/N laughed softly, his cheeks flushed with emotion. "I wasn't worried. Not with you by my side."

The evening carried on with more toasts, stories, and laughter, the celebration of their engagement filling the apartment with warmth and joy. It was a night they would never forget—the perfect start to the next chapter of their lives together.

[thepascalparadox]

Chapter Nine: A Fragile Bubble

Word Count | 3.8k Pairing | General Marcus Acacius x OC F!Reader Chapter Warnings | switch pov, allusions to battle series masterlist

As the haze of sleep begins to dissipate, the world around you slowly comes into focus. Yet, it is not your world, not the familiar warmth of your bed or the gentle breeze from your balcony. Instead, the cushion beneath your head is firm and warm, rising and falling in a steady rhythm. The consistent beat beneath your ear—strong, measured, alive—grounds you in a way that feels both foreign and soothing. A gentle hand moves languidly across your bare back, tracing idle circles, coaxing you to remain in this serene moment.

"Good morning, my princess," comes Acacius’ low, resonant voice, the deep timbre reverberating from his chest to your very soul. You keep your eyes shut, as though by doing so you can prolong the spell of the night before, let the memories linger a while longer before reality claims you. A soft hum escapes your lips as you nestle closer to him, seeking more of that warmth, more of him.

He chuckles, a deep, rumbling sound that vibrates against your cheek. "Didn’t think you were one to sleep late," he teases, his tone light and playful. "But as much as I’d love to stay here all day..." His voice dips lower as he shifts, turning so that he hovers above you, his strong hand capturing yours and pinning it gently beside your head.

"Loving you..." he murmurs, pressing a tender kiss to the hollow of your throat. "Worshiping your body as the goddess you are..." His breath grazes your ear before his teeth catch the delicate edge of your lobe, sending shivers cascading down your spine.

At last, your eyes flutter open, meeting his gaze. And there he is—your husband. The sight of him steals your breath, his dark curls tousled, his features softened by the faint morning light filtering through the tent. How could anyone describe this moment? No words seem sufficient to capture the quiet perfection of it, of him.

"We need to get up," he says, though his voice is tinged with regret. His lips curl into a kind smile, as though softening the blow of the day’s demands intruding on this fragile bubble of intimacy.

You lift a hand, cupping his cheek, and watch as his eyes fall shut at your touch. The faint shadows beneath them catch your notice, a testament to the restlessness of his sleep. Memories surface—his tossing and turning, though never letting you go, always keeping you close.

A pang of longing and concern twists in your chest. Perhaps the ghosts of his battles still haunt him, stealing his peace even in the safety of your arms. The thought stirs something deep within you—a need to shield him, to offer him the same comfort he has given you.

His eyes open again, finding yours. For a moment, the world stills. The storm in your gaze meets his steady calm, and the connection between you speaks louder than any words. How long this exchange lasts, you cannot say. Seconds, minutes, eternity—it all blurs.

Before either of you can speak, you lean up and press your lips to his, a kiss filled with quiet devotion.

"Good morning, husband," you whisper against his mouth, the word feeling new yet natural, like it had always belonged to him.

The term draws a low groan from him, his forehead falling to rest against yours. "You’ll drive me mad one day, you know that?" he murmurs, his voice tinged with something raw, almost pained.

"Have I done something wrong?" you ask softly, your fingers threading through the curls at the nape of his neck.

He pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, his brow arching as though you’ve asked something absurd. "Wrong?" he repeats, almost incredulously. His eyes flick away for a moment as he searches for the right words. Then, with a resigned sigh, he continues, "It's just that... Well, how can I say it... Oh, what am I doing? We are married, after all."

With that, he rises swiftly, as though summoned by some unseen duty. You stifle a laugh at his abruptness, pulling the sheets around you as you prop yourself on one elbow.

"Well, I suppose we are. Now more than ever," you reply, a teasing edge to your tone, alluding to the intimacy shared just hours before.

His smirk turns mischievous as he fastens his tunic. "Indeed. What I meant to say is... now that I have you, I’ve no idea how I’ll ever resist you. It’s as though everything you do—every word, every look—calls to me, beckons me to... Do things." He trails off, his voice thick with emotion.

"If it’s my permission you seek to kiss me whenever you like," you interrupt with a sly smile, "then consider it granted, Soldier."

His eyes soften as he returns to your side, leaning over you. His face hovers mere inches from yours, his breath mingling with yours.

"I’ll remember that, wife," he murmurs before capturing your lips in a kiss that promises all the love, all the passion, all the devotion he holds for you.

· · ───────── ·𖥸· ───────── · ·

The tension in the tent was almost tangible, an invisible weight pressing down upon everyone present. Valerian’s voice cut through the air, sharp and unyielding, as though shaped by the countless battles he had weathered.

"We have every reason to believe Rome is already aware of the princess’s marriage," he declared, his tone as steady as the blade of a well-forged sword. "That is why we must act without delay—bring the war to their doorstep. The General commanding the Eastern legions sent word this morning, swearing allegiance to the late Emperor Antoninus. With both our armies united, our chances of victory grow stronger. Together, we can overthrow Macrelius and restore order to the empire."

Each word carried a sense of urgency that made your chest tighten. The talk of war unsettled you; its grim realities were foreign and cold, a world far removed from anything you had known before. Standing at the edge of the room with Lena, you felt like an intruder in this grim council of men whose lives revolved around strategy, conquest, and bloodshed.

At the table’s center, Acacius sat alongside Valerian and three others, their faces illuminated by the flickering glow of oil lamps. The low murmur of their discussion was steady, measured, and wholly at odds with the storm of discomfort growing within you.

"How many of us against how many of them?" Acacius asked, his voice calm but laced with a sharp edge that betrayed his focus.

"Approximately three thousand of ours against... four thousand five hundred of theirs, my lord," one of the men replied, his words respectful yet tinged with unease.

Acacius leaned back slightly, his eyes narrowing as he considered the numbers. "Doesn’t sound like much of an advantage," he murmured, his voice barely louder than the whispers of the wind against the canvas walls.

Valerian stepped forward, placing a firm hand on Acacius’s shoulder. His confidence radiated like an unshakable pillar amidst the uncertainty. "The men they have lack our experience," he said, his tone resolute. "With the right strategy, there is no number that can stand against us, brother. You know this."

A silence followed, thick with the weight of decisions yet to be made. Then, with a nod, Acacius rose, his movements deliberate and composed. "Then you know what must be done, Valerian," he said, his voice cutting through the stillness like a blade. "Gather the men. Ready them. We march at dawn. Time is a luxury we cannot afford."

As he stood, his gaze flickered toward you—a fleeting glance, no more than a second, yet it sent a strange, bittersweet warmth through your veins. Before you could decipher the look in his eyes, he turned and strode out of the tent, his cape sweeping behind him like the shadow of his determination.

"Must they leave so soon?" you whispered to Lena, your voice hesitant, almost inaudible against the somber atmosphere.

Lena sighed, her expression a mixture of resignation and sorrow. "Just when I thought I would have them together for a little longer..." she murmured, her voice tinged with wistfulness. You watched as she moved to Valerian’s side, her delicate hands resting on his chest as their foreheads met. He cupped her face with one hand, his other rubbing soothing circles over her swollen belly, the silent exchange between them brimming with love and unspoken fears.

The sight stirred something heavy within you, a pang of guilt settling deep in your chest. For the first time, the full weight of your choices crashed down upon you. Every life in this camp now seemed tethered to your actions. Lena’s future, her happiness, and the child she carried—so fragile, so full of promise—were all at risk.

Have I condemned them all without realizing it?

You lowered your gaze, your hands clasping tightly as if to anchor yourself. When you had woken in Acacius’s arms that morning, the world had seemed perfect—blissfully, selfishly perfect. But now, that fleeting perfection felt like a cruel illusion, one that had blinded you to the price others might pay for your happiness.

Have I made the right choice? Or had my desires sown the seeds of ruin for everyone around me?

The questions lingered, unanswered, as the murmur of preparation began to rise outside the tent.

When you entered your tent, you hoped to find Acacius waiting there, but the space was empty. A faint sigh escaped your lips. The absence of servants to prepare your belongings was no surprise; after all, the camp’s resources were directed elsewhere. Resigned, you set about the task yourself.

There wasn’t much to pack—just enough to fit into a single casket shared between you and Acacius. The process was methodical, almost soothing, as you folded the dresses gifted to you since your arrival and carefully arranged the tunics belonging to the General. Among the modest pile of clothing lay the small bag you had carried from the palace, its contents untouched since you arrived.

As you opened it, your fingers brushed against something hard and familiar—the little sac containing your father’s ring. The sight of it sent a rush of conflicting emotions through you. It had remained hidden, untouched, since the day Acacius had become your maritus. You had expected him to take it, to claim the symbol of your father’s legacy and, with it, the throne.

But here it was, undisturbed.

A realization settled over you like the weight of a quiet truth.

He has no intention of claiming the empire.

That is why my father entrusted it to him. He knew Acacius didn’t crave power or glory for his name.

Your thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the sound of hurried footsteps and the sudden entrance of the man occupying your mind.

“Are you ready?” Acacius asked, his voice firm, his expression taut with an edge of impatience.

“I am,” you replied, still holding the folded fabric in your hands. “I was just gathering our things. But... aren’t we leaving at dawn? The sun has barely passed its peak.”

His jaw tightened, and he avoided your gaze, moving briskly around the tent to collect his belongings. “We are not leaving. The army departs at dawn. You, however, are going home—with Lena.”

The words struck you like a blow. “I—what? No. I’m going with you. To my home. Our home. That’s the plan, isn’t it?”

He paused briefly, his lips curling into a bitter, humorless laugh. “What, are you planning to don armor and fight alongside the soldiers? Don’t be ridiculous.”

The dismissive tone ignited a fire within you. Anger flared, sharp and unrelenting. “Don’t you dare mock me, soldier. I am still your princess.”

“And I am your husband,” he shot back, his voice low but laden with authority. “And you will do as I say.”

His eyes finally met yours, and the intensity of his gaze caught you off guard. There was fire there, yes, but it was not born of anger alone. It burned with something deeper, something almost desperate.

“Oh, so that’s what you wanted?” you challenged, stepping closer, your voice laced with defiance. “To tame me? To finally have the right to command me, to boss me around? Well, let me make something clear, husband. I will never—”

“Aemilia, please.”

His voice broke through your tirade, quieter now, laced with something that made your breath catch. His hand rose to pinch the bridge of his nose, his eyes closing as though warding off the weight of the moment. When he spoke again, it was softer, almost pleading. “This is hard enough as it is. Just... listen to me this time. Please.”

You stood frozen as he stepped closer, his hands finding their place on your shoulders, the warmth of his touch a stark contrast to the tension in the room. His fingers moved gently, soothingly, up and down your arms, as though trying to ease away your resistance.

“I need to know you’re safe,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “If I can’t... if I'm not sure you’re out of harm’s way, I’ll lose my focus on the field. I can’t afford that. Not now. Do you understand?”

For the first time, you noticed the raw emotion etched into his features. It was there in the slight furrow of his brow, the heaviness in his eyes. Beneath the hardened exterior was something fragile, vulnerable. He looked almost... afraid.

Your anger softened, replaced by an ache that settled deep in your chest. Slowly, you raised your hands to rest on his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath beneath your palms.

“I’ll listen this time,” you began softly, your lips curling into a faint, playful smile, “But just this once. Next time, I’ll be the one giving the orders. Deal?”

For a brief moment, his lips twitched as though tempted to smile, but the weight of the situation held him back. He nodded slightly, his hands lingering on your arms before dropping to his sides.

“Deal,” he murmured, though the word carried an unspoken promise of something heavier, something that lingered even as the silence between you grew.

The truth was stark and unrelenting: this "deal" would mean nothing if he died. Death, once a distant companion—an inevitable visitor with no known hour or place—had been a concept he had long accepted. As a soldier, he had learned to coexist with its shadow, feeling its cold breath on his shoulders without fear, merely acknowledgment. This was the life he had chosen, and he bore it with unflinching resolve.

But now, something had shifted. Death was no longer his alone to contemplate. The weight of another’s life rested in his hands—a fragile, precious burden. Recklessness was no longer a luxury he could afford; to fall now would mean leaving Aemilia with nothing but sorrow and an unfulfilled promise. And if he dared admit the truth to himself, he found that, for the first time in years, he did not wish to meet death at all.

Not now. Not when he had tasted the sweetness of love, the ache of yearning for a future that seemed suddenly, achingly possible. For the first time, the world held a beauty worth fighting for—a beauty that gazed back at him with a smile that lit the darkest corners of his soul.

He exhaled sharply as he secured the final clasp of the carriage, his hands working methodically even as his thoughts whirled. His features betrayed his inner turmoil: the hard set of his jaw, the furrowed brow, the quiet efficiency of his movements. He knew how he must look—stoic and impenetrable. Yet inside, the storm raged.

You watched him in silence, understanding the rhythm of his moods. Now was not the time for words or levity. Instead, you waited, your hands clasped, your eyes tracing his every motion as if memorizing him just as he was.

"Come," he said at last, his voice steady but heavy with unspoken emotion. He extended a hand to help you into the carriage. You took it, your touch light but deliberate, and noticed the way his eyes shimmered, betraying the tight rein he held over his feelings.

Inside the carriage, Lena sat quietly, her tears falling in subdued streams. Acacius lingered by the door, his grip on your hand tightening as he spoke. "Promise me you'll be careful," he murmured, his tone raw with desperation.

"Only if you promise the same," you replied, your voice a deliberate contrast—light, steady, as though trying to lend him your calm.

A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips, a fragile thing that made your heart swell. "For you, I will," he said softly. "Lumina mea." His lips brushed the back of your hand, lingering, as though he could pour all his devotion into that single act. "May the gods be with you."

"And may they bring us together once more," you whispered, leaning in to seal your words with a kiss.

In that fleeting moment, he memorized everything. The taste of your lips, the scent of your skin, the softness of your hands cradling his face. A single tear slipped from your eye, mingling with his own, and he cursed the betrayal of his emotions.

A soldier must not cry.

He pulled away abruptly, his composure snapping back into place like a shield. Turning to his men, he barked the order to depart, his voice carrying the weight of finality.

As the carriage wheels creaked into motion, he did not allow himself to look back. His feet carried him away, but his heart remained behind, bound to you in a way no distance could sever. And though he refused to admit it, the thought gnawed at the edges of his resolve: perhaps this was the last time he would see you.

But for you, for the promise of what you shared, he would fight the gods themselves if that’s what it took to return to you.

· · ───────── ·𖥸· ───────── · ·

Nightfall was an unusual time for a departure, a choice that would have raised questions among the troops if not for the urgency of their mission. Time was a luxury they could not afford. With the sheer number of men under his command, the march to Rome would stretch over nearly five grueling days—five days that Macrelius would exploit to strengthen his hold on the city.

Valerian, ever the tactician, had dispatched envoys ahead of the main force. Their orders were clear: to weave whispers of hope among the loyalists in Rome while maintaining an illusion of submission. The senate must believe the people were content, that the city’s pulse beat steadily under their rule. Only then would their defenses falter, their vigilance wane.

The plan was bold: to strike under the cover of darkness, freeing captives from the dungeons and spiriting them away before the city could rally. Yet, as the idea unfolded in Acacius' mind, doubts crept in like shadows lengthening with the night.

Would the cover of darkness truly give them the upper hand? Or would it merely announce their arrival, granting the enemy precious moments to prepare?

His thoughts churned ceaselessly, a storm of possibilities and pitfalls. The weight of command pressed heavily on his shoulders, a familiar burden but no less relentless. Until Rome was reclaimed, until the republic was restored and peace reigned once more, his mind would find no rest.

Acacius gazed ahead, the dim outline of the road blurring as his thoughts pulled him inward. Duty demanded resolve, yet doubt whispered insidiously, questioning every decision. He reminded himself that he was not alone in this. Valerian, his brother in arms, was surely strategizing as well.

Three days lay ahead before the soldiers would begin their rigorous preparations. Three days to refine their plan, to turn doubt into certainty, and ensure that every step taken would lead to victory.

The General tightened his grip on the reins of his horse, his jaw set with determination. The night wind tugged at his cloak, a silent reminder of the fleeting time. Failure was unthinkable, not when so much was at stake. The situation demanded his strength, his mind, his very soul. And he would give it all, willingly.

For the glory of Rome.

· · ───────── ·𖥸· ───────── · ·

The gentle sway of the carriage had lulled Lena to sleep, her tears finally spent after what felt like hours of quiet sobbing. Perhaps in her dreams, she found a fleeting solace—a fragile hope for a brighter future. You couldn’t blame her for retreating into that sanctuary, nor had you questioned her silence as you departed. She sat on her side, and you on yours, the weight of unspoken fears pressing down on you both. Two women lost in thoughts of the man you loved heading into battle.

You wished you could sleep too, but peace of mind had always been a struggle. The only true rest you had known in days was the night spent in Acacius' arms, his steady heartbeat lulling you into a rare peace. But now, his absence was a tangible ache, and all you could do was cling to fragile hopes and whispered prayers for his safety.

The carriage shuddered to a halt, jolting you from your restless thoughts. Darkness had deepened outside, and you wondered if you had finally reached your destination or if the soldiers meant to make camp until dawn. Curiosity and unease propelled you forward, your hand parting the curtain to glimpse the world beyond.

And then, it came. The unmistakable metallic whisper of a blade being drawn.

Your breath caught as the sounds of a scuffle erupted—grunts, the clash of steel, the chaos of battle unfolding in the shadows. Your heart raced, every beat a hammer against your ribs. Your eyes met Lena’s, wide and frantic now, her sleep shattered by the same dreadful realization that had seized you.

There was nowhere to run. The confined space of the carriage became a prison, each passing second stretching into an eternity. The hope that flickered faintly in your chest was a fragile thing—perhaps they would pass you by, perhaps the Roman soldiers would dispatch these attackers swiftly.

But then the silence fell.

It wasn’t the relief you had hoped for. Instead, it wrapped around you like a suffocating shroud. Your stomach twisted, dread settling deep within you. The curtain moved slowly, pulled aside with deliberate care.

And there he stood.

A stranger, his expression twisted into a cruel smile, his eyes alight with malice. His gaze raked over you both, and the chill in his voice cut deeper than any blade.

“Well, well… The Emperor will like this very much indeed.”

[r3linx]

⌜char.⌟ park jongseong ⌜synhopsis⌟ reader (and me) just being down bad for jay; just plain, quick and messy rambling about him [sorry for mistakes] ⌜word count⌟ 0.7k ⌜warnings⌟ sfw, gender neutral reader, fluff, pet names [sweetheart], established relationship

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ jay was a great husband material.

no debate needed to convince you otherwise. even just a quick glance at him can tell you the fact, how much of a good person he is. we could say that he is the standard. like right now, he’s so cutely focused on chopping the vegetables on front of him, his gaze fixated on his hands as worked swiftly and with ease.

he decided to be in charge of the dinner this time, he just couldn’t bring himself to disturb you, curled up beside him on the bed, the soft sheets crumpled up under you from all your tossing around. when he turned his gaze towards you, he stopped mid-sentence as he saw your eyelids fluttered close and your breathing calm. a gentle smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, carefully easing himself out of your warm and comforting embrace, his fingers brushing a few stray locks of silky hair behind your ear as he leaned down to plant a sweet kiss to your temple.

now he was in the kitchen, black-rimmed glasses sitting at the bridge of his nose, slipping down a bit as his head was turned down, chestnut-brown hair tickling his forehead. his olive skin shining softly under the cold white lights, making his face sharper and his skin creamier. his always gentle, slim fingers when he touched you, now firmly held the knife handle, wrapping around it as he guided it. his plump pink lips were in a straight line, making his cheeks form that adorable pout he rarely showed. he was like a bright and colorful palette with beautiful colors. all his features, his quirks. made up a color, which made himself, jay irresistible.

you stood at the doorway, just admiring him when his calm voice forced you back into reality.

“-sweetheart? is everything alright? you were just sleeping when i left..” he turned his head towards you now, looking at you through the lenses. his tone was sweet as honey, it soothed your nerves and mind, every single time. you could compare it to light blue, but at the same time, there were times when it turns darker and deeper shade, just as his voice firmer and more demanding, which never failed to make you amused. and his singing voice, so smooth and almost like silk to your ears.

you could list all of these things until hours and would still find facts that you forgot to mention. his eyes so brown, to the point it just seemed black but still, it seemed bright and lively every single time you took a glance at it, full of life and happiness because of you.

and his strong arms, which you didn’t notice until this point that was already around you after quickly wiping his hands off, setting the knife aside, and making his way to you in quick, long strides. muscles defined as he held you in his embrace, one of his palm flat against the small of your back, the other carefully placed against the nape of your neck to slowly guide your head under his chin. his grasp was like burgundy. so fiery, and passionate but still holding the sweetness and the tenderness in it. he was a man filled to the brink with spirit and devotion, but his love was gentle and romantic and not unstable.

it was like he always knew what or how to act and he carried himself with courage and confidence. it resembled to lilac, for some strange reason you couldn’t help but imagine him as shades and colors. he found it absolutely ridiculous, but to you, even colors had personality even if feeling not.

“i’ll finish the dinner okay? you can go lay back..” he mumbled against your hair, his words caressing your ear as his chest gently vibrated against yours.

“i’m not tired, i want to stay…” you replied with a soft smile appearing on your face, pressing a gentle and quick peck at his neck. a faint chuckle escaped from his throat as he gently shook his head.

“then stay.. but i’m doing the work.” you nodded against him, letting go of him and stepping back aside. “you’re doing that again, right? the stuff with the colors.” he asked with a playful tilt of his head to the side but he didn’t spare you even a glance.

“maybe..”

@r3linx II do not steal, modify or translate or repost any of my works. likes and reblogs are appreciated﹗﹗

[capricornlevi]

Can I request a Nanami x fem!reader who’s an artist that loves to sketch/paint him?

cliché as it may seem, you could spend an eternity admiring your husband. just watching him breathe, the slow and steady rise of his chest under his blue linen shirt, knowing there's a heart beating under there and that, to use his words, it's just as much yours as it is his.

oh, you could stay here for hours, just admiring him.

especially in this light -- the warm hues of the setting sun casting a glow over his face, his sharp features softened in sleep as he naps alongside you in the porch swing.

you both had come out to sit here for a breath of fresh air after dinner, with you throwing your legs across nanami's lap and him smiling, placing a tender hand on your thigh and resting his shoulders back against the cushion to 'just close his eyes for a moment'.

that 'moment' was about a half-hour ago.

you don't mind one bit, however, since you keep your art supplies in a box next to this swing. careful to move gently so as not to disturb him, you managed to pull out your sketchbook and some pencils, putting your skills to work by trying to capture the likeness of your favourite subject.

distantly, you hear the caws of seabirds and the sounds of local fishermen hauling their little boats ashore. it's now a familiar sound, one you and nanami have grown accustomed to since moving here a year ago, but you still hope it doesn't wake him.

you glance over; a gentle gust of wind blows some strands of hair into his forehead, but he doesn't stir. you adjust your grip on your pencil and get back to work.

minutes pass and the light starts to wane, but you feel you've finished the outline. you can work on the detailing later, when you can use your watercolour pencils to capture the warm hazel of his eyes, the few streaks of silver in his hair -- the sign of a happy retirement, he jokes -- not to mention your favourite new feature of his, the scattering of freckles across his nose that he's acquired from days spent like this one.

"did you get my good side?"

nanami's voice is sleep-laced but achingly fond. he's smiling, eyes fluttering open to try and peek at your sketchbook, but your brow furrows with worry.

"did i wake you?" you ask. for too long, sleep had evaded nanami, and so any disturbance to his rest sparks a bit of fear inside you.

he shakes his head, "no, my darling," and shifts his hand from your thigh to your waist, pulling you in closer for a slow kiss that melts your worries away.

"so," he says when you finally bring yourself to pull away, gesturing to the paper in your hands. "can i see?"

"it's not finished," you clarify, suddenly a little self-conscious as you glance down at the sketch. "i haven't tidied it up yet --"

you look back up to nanami.

it takes just one look from him, one adoring look that feels more like an embrace, for you to hand over the sketchbook into his waiting hands.

he pauses, surveying the drawing of him in this seat with your porch and your house in the background, and he blinks once, twice, before his smile is back, reaching his eyes and making them crinkle at the corners.

"some day," he says, slow and careful. "some day, i'd love to see myself like you see me. but things like this," his thumb grazes over the drawing before he takes your hand in his. "get me a lot closer."

[jjmbbg]

"New Year"

cw: beau arlen x fem!reader, fluff, suggestive language, kissing, alcohol consume, just cuties.

happy new year guys!!

(pics from pinterest)

The weather was certainly cold, but the interior of your house was a protective blanket that generated enormous peace in the two of you. You smiled softly when Beau slid next to you on the couch, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you closer.

"You want some more?" he offered you some sparkling wine from the bottle, tilting it towards your cup that you also tilted. "Y'know? This is nice."

"Yeah? What's nice?" you chuckled, taking a short sip of your glass, leaning your body on him after leaving your glass of wine on the coffee table.

"This. You and me. This dinner and some sparkling wine," Beau smiled, kissing your temple softly, lips lingering on your skin sweetly. "I could stay like this forever, holding you in my arms."

You raised your head, looking into his gorgeous green eyes with that characteristic mischievous glint, mixed with the love and tenderness that he has felt since he met you, and smiled again, leaning to kiss his soft lips once, then twice, then thrice—and more and more and more times—hearing him laugh at your sweet little kisses.

"Hey, hold on sweetheart, you gonna wear out my lips," he teased you, pulling you to give you another kiss, this one longer, with a not-so-hidden touch of desire. "And certainly you love when I use my lips on ya," Beau wiggled his eyebrows in amusement, one of his hands caressing your thigh gently beneath your skirt.

"Well, not my fault they're calling my name," you teased him back, your hands cupping his cheeks and pulling his face closer, giving him more pecks as if it were breathing. "Besides, you like 'em."

"Yeah, I do."

You both finished the remains of the dinner, then went outside of his trailer, sitting in a small armchair by the door, looking at the starry sky. Beau took a blanket and wrapped it behind you two, arm resting on your shoulders once more, letting you rest your head on his own shoulder.

"Are you the type of person who makes New Year's resolutions and such?" you asked softly, turning your head a little from the sky above you to the green sky of his eyes.

Beau thought about it, scratching his chin a little, but after a few seconds, he shook his head.

"It's the first time I celebrate New Year's in like… years," he laughed softly at its redundancy. "Since Emily spent the vast majority of the holidays with her mom, I stopped celebrating several things, I assume because I didn't want to feel so empty. So, no, I don't feel like I need to make lists of New Year's resolutions, they're all mostly the same."

You hummed in response, understanding his answer. You really did.

"But," he continued, turning his head towards you and gave you the biggest, sweetest smile and kissed your forehead softly. "Now that I'm with you, I wouldn't mind having the purpose of being with you for the rest of the year, and the next one, and the next one."

You giggled at his words.

God. Was this man real? He was a sappy bastard, and he held you in the palm of his hand, with his cheesy lines.

"God, I love you so damn much," you told him, giving him a soft kiss on his lips.

The kiss was interrupted by the music of the radio next to them, then the voice of the announcer, expressing thanks to the community, etc., etc., where what stood out the most was soon the typical countdown.

23:59:52

Beau smiled at you.

23:59:53

You smiled back at Beau.

23:59:55

He cupped your cheek gently with his hand.

23:59:57

You cupped his face with yours.

23:59:58

He kisses you. You kissed him back.

00:00:03

You started a new year kissing each other's lips. His touch was gentle, soft, caring. He still couldn't believe that a woman, beautiful and strong like you, was with a guy like him, boring and with dad jokes ready for every occasion. One of your hands trailed down his cheek to his shoulder as you broke apart the kiss, seeing his face illuminated by fireworks in the distance.

Your heart skipped a beat, his face has always been beautiful, you've seen pictures of him when he was younger, and… God… Beau is just gorgeous, and there aren't even the right words to explain it.

"Happy new year," he whispered, his green gaze fixed on your eyes, his thumb caressing your cheekbone. Oh, fuck, he was so gentle, how did you get so lucky? "Love you, sweetheart."

"I love you too, Beau," you replied back, kissing him once more, deepening it, expressing your love and gratitude for having him with you, for being with him at that moment. "So, so much," you whispered against his mouth, clutching the fabric of his shirt.

This was the way you wanted to start the year, loving the man of your dreams, being in his arms, and never letting him go.

[fawnsflowerbed]

HELLOOOOOOOO!!!!

Carrying over from the previous puppy leon ask, I was thinking about hybrid dog vendetta leon, just finding him on your porch, just laying down behind one of the chairs. He hasn’t knocked on your door to ask for food, he never will. He’s at rock bottom, he doesn’t want to eat anymore, all he wants to do is sleep and listen to your music thats muffled outside. One day you take the trash out and you notice him and he’s too numb to be scared of any potential consequences, expecting the worst out of you, but instead he gets his cheek rubbed and scratchies behind the ears. And then hes being carried into your home, soft praises being mumbled into his ear, and he has a warm bath and a hot meal waiting for him. All the dirt and grime is cleaned off, theres a warmth in his belly again, and he’s laid in your bed. And he just looks up at you with all the adoration in the world. He’s someone’s little angel now, their sweetheart, their baby. It’s too good to be true, one day he’ll be thrown out once you realize how sad and useless he is, he can’t even do the bare minimum of being the happy, comforting dog he’s supposed to be. But it doesn’t seem to matter to you, you call him a good boy all the same and just hold him, kissing his forehead and his freshly washed hair. You’re happy with him now, oddly enough, his curious sniffing and his big eyes staring up at you makes you smile. Maybe you will get tired of him one day (no you won’t), but at least right now there’s someone who loves him. Right in this moment, he’s loved, he’s cared for. That’s more than he’s ever had in the past. And maybe instead of worrying, he should just lean into the affection. So he does. He wraps his arms around your waist and licks your cheek, a silent thank you, and he buries his face into your neck, a wetness soaking through your sweater, and eventually he falls asleep, warm and happy, and at home.

-🌷

OLD MAN DOG HYBRID LEONNNN!!!! SCRATCHES UP MY WALLPAPER!!!!! The way his exhaustion would soak through his skin, he can't even muster a growl as he sits behind your porch chairs in the pouring rain. You frown, and he's sure you're going to tell him to piss off and bug someone else. But instead you seem.. soft. Leaning down to rub his cheek, running a hand over his hair to scratch behind his ear. It's been so long since he'd been touched with such tender care, leaning his head into the scritching with an exhausted sigh. Hardly registering how you straighten him and sling him into your home.

"Poor thing.." You mumble, and he can't help but agree. He's pitiful compared to his younger self. Yet you don't say it as an insult, moreso as a worry. Gently brushing the hair from his face as you carefully shed his clothes and settle him into a hot bath. How long had it been since he'd had a proper bath? With you gently working soap over the dirt caking his skin and combing the knots from his hair. He doesn't growl, or snap, he just stares at the bottom of the tub aimlessly. Only making out the soothing tone of your voice as you wash out and off the suds. "There you go, good boy." Oh, he hasn't heard that in so long.

He's not a fan of the hair dryer, but that's okay. He doesn't bite and nip at the air with an angrily stiff tail, he's grown out of that phase. So he only grumbles mentally at the whir of the fan.

But the huffs stop when he realises the reason you left him alone in the tub for a moment (and he, as a good boy, remained sat and stayed) was because you were washing and drying his clothes. Just a quick five minute rinse and wash in the sink, a fast run through the dryer. It'd been so long since he'd relished in the smell of washing detergent, the softness of clean linen and cotton. His tail swishes, working the fabric over his now clean body before carefully treading downstairs, ears up and eyes wide and nose sniffing. Taking in the aura of your home, the comfort. But he could smell it. Food. Warm, hot food.

When he does make it downstairs there you are, setting a bowl of steaming food down on the dining table with a soft smile. "That must feel better, huh buddy?" There goes his tail again, watching as you pat the seat. "C'mon, you're probably starving."

Even as he snuffles at the food before eating it, even as he wipes his mouth haphazardly with his hand out of habit rather than using a napkin, he looks around the house with curious eyes. Even after his belly is full and his heart is whole, you stay. You don't kick him to the curb after an act of kindness like he expected. Instead you pet over his wet hair, let him sniff at your neck and hands, his tail swaying. You're patient.

And patience is what he needed.

[itscosmicnerd]

reference!

[wildsaltair]

Maximus deserved to be the leading man of a sweet, gentle, romantic story, in which the only bad things that happen are misunderstandings and we're guaranteed a happy ending with him riding into the sunset, alive and well and content. HOWEVER