#LIKE I *TIRED* TO THINK OF A WAY IT COULD BE A FILTER BUT NO. NO THAT HAD TO BE DONE BY HAND.

[the-winter-spider]

Deserve you | Drabble

Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: fluffffff

A/N: Heres the sweet one. 🫶🏻 debating on doing an angsty one lol Happy valentines day 💞

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The first thing you notice when you wake up is warmth.

Not just the cozy kind from the blankets wrapped around you, but a warmth that settles deep in your chest, the kind that only comes from Bucky pressed up against your back, his arm draped lazily over your waist. The slow, steady rise and fall of his breath against your skin is hypnotic, anchoring you in the quiet, golden glow of early evening..

You both got back late or was it considered early from a stake out, not that it mattered.

Outside, the world is still and heavy with fresh snow, the soft hush of it settling against the windowsill. The setting sun filtering through the curtains casts everything in a muted glow, turning your shared space into something dreamlike, something sacred.

You shift slightly, and before you can get too far, a strong arm tightens around you, pulling you flush against his chest.

“Mmm, don’t move,” Bucky mumbles into your shoulder, his voice thick with sleep, gravelly in a way that makes something in your stomach flip.

A soft laugh escapes your lips as you lace your fingers through his, feeling the contrast of warmth and cool metal against your skin. “You say that every time.”

“‘Cause it’s true,” he grumbles. His lips brush against the nape of your neck, a lazy, featherlight kiss that lingers longer than necessary. His smile is slow and content against your skin.

It’s these moments that make your heart ache in the best way, the way he clings to you in the early hours, the sleepy, half-mumbled words that slip past his lips, the way he holds you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.

“You’re warm,” he murmurs, lips grazing the shell of your ear.

“You’re clingy,” you tease, though you don’t move away. You never do.

His grip tightens just slightly, as if in silent agreement. “’S’only ‘cause I love you.”

You feel those words settle inside you, low and deep, like they belong there. Like they were always meant to. No matter how many times he says it, it still sends a rush of warmth through your chest, still feels like something you’ll never get tired of hearing.

You roll over, finally facing him, and your fingers reach up to smooth the dark strands of hair away from his forehead. He looks utterly at peace like this, eyes still heavy-lidded with sleep, but there’s something else there too. Something softer. Something real.

“And I love you Bucky Barnes.”

“Can't believe that, never can.” His lips twitch into the laziest smile, the kind that makes your stomach flip, the kind he only ever gives you. His fingers trace slow, absentminded patterns along your spine, grounding himself in you, in this.

“Stay in bed with me,” he whispers, barely brushing his lips against yours, stealing the words from your mouth before you can say them first.

You pretend to hesitate, to consider it but you both know the answer is already yes.

Because there’s nowhere else you’d rather be than here, wrapped up in him.

And so, you stay.

His fingers trace gentle, meandering lines across your bare shoulder, his touch so impossibly light that it makes your skin hum. He’s watching you again, really watching you. Like he’s memorizing every detail, like he’s trying to commit you to memory just in case this moment vanishes.

There’s something unspoken in his gaze, something heavy beneath the softness.

Then, barely above a whisper “I never thought I could have this.”

Your breath catches.

The words slip out like a confession, like they’ve been sitting on his tongue for a long time, waiting for the right moment to break free. His fingers still against your skin, as if speaking them aloud makes them real.

“Bucky…”

His hand finds yours beneath the covers, his fingers lacing with yours like he’s afraid to let go. A sharp inhale, the kind that makes his chest rise and fall just a little too quickly.

“I spent so long thinking…” He swallows, eyes flickering downward, like he can’t quite bring himself to look at you when he says it. “Thinking I wasn’t meant for this.”

The words are careful, like they’re fragile, like he’s still afraid they might shatter in his hands.

“I always wanted this but after everything I knew, I felt like I wasn’t supposed to have this.” His voice is quiet but firm, raw in a way that makes your heart twist. “The lifetime with Hydra, the things I did… even after Steve got me out, I still felt like—” He exhales sharply through his nose, jaw tightening. “Like I didn’t deserve anything other than what I’d already been given.”

You shake your head instinctively, already about to argue, but before you can, he squeezes your hand.

“Sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice rough around the edges. “Let me finish.”

There’s no frustration, no sharpness, just quiet determination. He needs to get this out.

“You changed that for me.” His voice wavers just slightly, his fingers coming up to cradle your face, thumb sweeping along your cheekbone with a tenderness that nearly undoes you. “You make me feel like I deserve to be here. That I deserve more than just surviving. That I actually deserve you. That I deserve something even after everything that I—he did.”

His voice cracks, just a little.

And then, softer

“But I would endure all of that again in any lifetime if it meant I got to have this with you.”

The air in your lungs disappears.

A single tear slips down his cheek before he can stop it, and for a moment, he looks almost embarrassed like he’s not used to being this vulnerable, this open. But you reach up before he can turn away, brushing the tear away with your thumb, letting your fingers linger on the rough stubble of his jaw.

“Because you do deserve it, Bucky,” you whisper.

Your voice is steady, but the emotion behind it is anything but.

“You deserve all of this. To be happy. To be loved. To wake up in the morning and not feel like you have to fight to exist.” Your fingers tighten in his hair as you hold him closer. “You deserve to be here. With me.”

His throat bobs as he swallows hard, his blue eyes impossibly bright. But he doesn’t look away.

He won’t look away.

“I love you so much,” he breathes, voice barely above a whisper.

A tear slips free, rolling slowly down the bridge of his nose, and you don’t stop yourself from catching it with your lips as you press the softest, most reverent kiss to his cheek.

“I love you too.”

And then you kiss him.

Slow. Deep.

Like you’re trying to kiss away every dark thought, every lingering doubt, every cruel whisper that ever told him he was unworthy of love.

Bucky sighs into it, pulling you impossibly closer, like he wants to breathe you in, like he wants to carve this moment into eternity.

When you finally break apart, his nose nudges against yours, his lips brushing over your cheek, down to your jaw. His breath is warm against your skin as he murmurs, “I know we have that double date with Sam, but… just stay a little longer.”

You smile, pressing a lingering kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

A small pause. A soft, content sigh.

Then, in that same sleepy, gravelly voice…

“Oh, by the way….Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head, pressing another kiss to his lips, just because you can.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Bucky.”

[wvyik]

you wanna?.. d.w. ᝰ.ᐟ

dean winchester x fem! reader

summary; dean’s been acting weird all morning, but you don’t think much of it — until he casually slides something across the table between bites of waffles. And just like that, your whole world tilts.

warnings; mdni!! pre-established relationship, aggressively casual proposal, dean being a menace as usual, fluff so sweet it might kill you!!… eventual smut (because let’s be real, this man does not propose without following through. is skip able though!!). dirty talk, dom! dean, oral sex, praise kink, unprotected sex, after care cause ima softie.

notes; AHH!! had so much fun with this one. tysm for all the support >ᴗ< i appreciate you all!! tbh this is the best thing I’ve ever written in a while. we love dean with a happy ending. ꒰˶  - ˕ -꒱ buckle up for the spicy stuff later!! as always, feel free to drop a comment or yell at me if you’re feeling some type of way about this. i’m here for it.

words; 4420

It’s early. Too early.

You’re exhausted in that way only hunters understand— the kind that seeps into your bones, makes your muscles ache, keeps you in that hazy space between asleep and awake, even with a steaming cup of coffee cradled between your hands.

Dean, of course, looks annoyingly good for someone who barely got any sleep. His hair is a mess, there’s a fading bruise on his jaw from last night’s hunt, but he’s still effortlessly him — green eyes warm with amusement, shoulders relaxed, mouth curling into a smirk as he watches you fight to keep your eyes open.

“You look like you got run over,” he says, the corners of his lips twitching.

You take a slow sip of your coffee, staring at him blankly. “Thanks. You always know just what to say.”

He chuckles, reaching for his own mug. “Just speakin’ the truth, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes but don’t argue. Not now, anyway. You’re definitely too tired for that.

The sound of Dean shuffling around the motel room pulls you out of your half-sleep. You crack open one eye, only to find him already dressed, boots laced up, and pacing with that ‘we’re about to hit the road’ look in his eyes. His leather jacket is hanging on the back of the chair.

You rub your eyes, groaning, and try to keep the sleepiness from spilling out of you. “Do we really have to go now?”

Dean grins, not even bothering to look at you. “You know how I feel about sitting still.”

You roll your eyes again, itching to bargain with him, but knowing if you did, he’d just drag you into whatever shenanigans he had planned for the day anyway. After a couple of minutes, the room starts to feel too small, and the silence is making your head spin, so you sit up. The plan— at least, the unspoken one — was to hit the road after a quick breakfast, and you’ve learned that when Dean Winchester says quick, he means quick.

The car ride isn’t long. Dean’s humming along to the radio, steering with one hand as he swerves around potholes, and you’re trying to ignore how damn good he looks in the morning light filtering through the car windows. Eventually, the sound of the engine and the warmth of the sun lull you into a comfortable quiet. You’re barely paying attention when you both pull up to an old diner on the side of the highway, a place that looks like it’s been around longer than you’ve been alive.

Dean parks and shoots you a look and smirks. “I’ll bet you ten bucks the pie here could change your life.”

You raise an eyebrow but don’t question it. You know better than to doubt him by now.

The diner is quiet, just a few truckers scattered at the counter, the hum of conversation mixing with the low crackle of an old radio playing Blue Öyster Cult in the background. The air smells like burnt coffee and bacon grease, and the vinyl booth seat sticks slightly to your thigh where your jeans have a tear, but it’s…nice.

Comfortable.

It’s one of those rare, normal mornings. No hunts lined up. No immediate danger. Just you, Dean, and a crappy little diner on the side of the road.

You should’ve known he was up to something.

Dean’s been acting weird all morning.

Not in an obvious way. He’s still teasing you, still stuffing his face with an ungodly amount of waffles and bacon, still shooting you that signature smirk every time you make a face at him.

But his knee is bouncing under the table. His fingers keep drumming against his coffee cup. And every once in a while, you catch him looking at you — this soft, thoughtful expression flickering across his face before he shakes it off.

You think about asking. But then your waitress swings by again, and Dean immediately perks up, flashing her a charming smile as she tops off his coffee.

“Another round of waffles, darlin’?” she asks, clearly smitten. You don’t blame her.

You smile softly behind your mug as Dean leans back, cocky as ever. “Wouldn’t say no.”

The waitress laughs, shaking her head. “You got a hell of an appetite.”

“That’s what she said,” Dean mutters under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear.

You kick him under the table. He deserved that one.

By the time the waitress walks away, Dean is already back to his food, completely unfazed. You shake your head, cutting into your own waffle, stealing one of his bacon strips just to be a menace. He lets you.

And then— casual as anything, like he’s commenting on the weather— he reaches into his pocket, pulls out something, and slides it across the table toward you.

A ring.

Just sitting there. Between your plate and the salt shaker.

Your brain short-circuits. You stare at it, then at him. Then back at it.

Dean, the absolute menace that he is, doesn’t even look up from his food. Just swipes some syrup with his fork, chews, and— without a single ounce of drama — says,

“You wanna?”

You blink. Your mouth opens. Closes. Opens again. Because what the hell is happening right now?

Dean finally looks at you, chewing like this is just another Thursday.

“What?” he says around a mouthful of food.

Your heart is slamming against your ribs. You feel warm all over, but you can’t tell if it’s from the crappy diner coffee or the fact that Dean Winchester just proposed to you like he was offering you the last french fry.

“That’s your proposal?” Your voice comes out hoarse, disbelief and laughter mixing in your throat.

Dean tilts his head, squinting at you. “What, you want me to get down on one knee in a greasy diner?”

“You literally just slid it across the table like it was a packet of sugar!”

He shrugs, still watching you, still unreadable in that way that makes your stomach flip. “Ain’t exactly my style, sweetheart.”

Your fingers shake as you reach for the ring. It’s simple— silver, understated, perfect. It feels warm from being in his pocket, the edges smooth against your skin.

Dean’s watching you carefully now. The teasing is gone, replaced by something softer, something quieter.

And that’s when it hits you.

Dean Winchester— who has faced monsters, demons, literal hell — is nervous. Like he’s bracing for impact. Like there’s a real, tangible fear in him that you might say no.

Your throat tightens.

“You really want this?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper.

Dean exhales through his nose, sets his fork down. He leans forward slightly, arms resting on the table, eyes locked onto yours.

“Sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice steady now, sure in a way that makes you melt. “I already got you. This is just making it official.”

Your heart stumbles. Because of course he’d say it like that. Like it was never even a question, like you already belonged to each other. Like you always would.

The ring feels solid between your fingers, grounding. It’s not grand or flashy. It’s him. It’s you. It’s perfect.

And god,

You don’t cry, but it’s a close thing.

You swallow hard, slip it onto your finger. It fits like it was meant to.

Dean watches, lets out a breath like he was holding it for years, and then— because you know him, because you love him— you smirk and say,

“You better get me a pie for this.”

That knocks the tension right out of him. His mouth quirks, the easy grin sliding back into place. “Damn right, I will.”

And just like that, you’re engaged. Not with a big speech. Not with grand gestures. Just this. Just him.

In a tiny diner off the highway, with bad coffee and waffles and the love of your life sitting across from you, grinning like a fool.

You bite your lip, trying to hold back the flood of emotions building up in your chest. You weren’t expecting this. Hell, you didn’t even know you needed it. But now that it’s here, now that he’s here, you feel like your whole world is shifting into place.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” you whisper, leaning your forehead against his.

Dean chuckles, the sound deep and warm. “You’re the one that’s perfect, sweetheart. I’m just lucky.”

You shake your head slightly, not sure how to respond. You’ve been together for so long now, and yet, this moment still feels like a beginning. Like everything that came before— every hunt, every stupid argument, every late-night conversation— it was all leading to this. To this small, simple, perfect moment in a stupid dingy diner.

Dean cups your face, tilting your chin up so you’re looking directly at him. There’s a quiet intensity in his eyes, and for once, you see a rawness that he doesn’t always show.

“You know that’s the thing,” he murmurs. “It’s not about what you deserve. It’s about what you’re willing to fight for. And you—” He pauses, his thumb gently brushing over your cheek. “You’re worth every damn fight, sweetheart. Always will be.”

Your heart stutters in your chest, and you realize you’re not even breathing properly. It’s overwhelming, the way he can say so much with so little. His words hit you deeper than you expected, more than you thought you needed.

“I’m in this. All the way, okay?” he says softly, like he’s reminding you, like he’s trying to make sure you know it, truly know it. “I don’t do half-assed. Not with you.”

“I know,” you reply, your voice barely more than a whisper, the emotions bubbling up.

His lips press against your forehead, soft and tender. And in that moment, you know—you know—that you’re not just his. He’s yours too. No matter what comes next, you’re a team.

Dean pulls back, a playful smile tugging at his lips again, trying to break the weight of the moment. “So, uh, you think I could maybe get a little ‘yes’ out of you? Just a tiny one?”

You laugh softly, your chest full. You tilt your head, looking up at him with a smile that feels too big for your face. “Yeah. Yeah, you could.”

Dean’s eyes light up, a twinkle in them like he’s won the lottery, like this was the answer he’s been waiting for. He presses another kiss to your lips—brief, but meaningful.

And for the first time in a long time, you feel like you can breathe. Like the world, in all its chaos, has paused just for you two. Like nothing else matters except the person standing in front of you.

You know there will be bad days, tough hunts, and fights, but for now, this moment is enough. This love is enough.

And you, you finally feel like you’ve found where you belong.

“Guess we should finish our waffles, huh?” Dean says, the mood lightening again, but his hand still resting on yours.

You chuckle, your heart still racing. “Yeah. But let’s take it slow, okay? We’ve got all the time in the world.”

Dean grins, that cocky, perfect grin you know so well. “Works for me.”

As you both finish your meal— laughing, talking about whatever random thing crosses your mind— there’s an understanding between you two now. You don’t need big gestures or flashy moments to know what’s real.

What’s real is here. What’s real is you two.

And it’s always been that way.

Back in the motel room, the door clicked shut behind you with a soft thud. The dim light from the lamp on the nightstand cast long shadows across the room, the only sound the faint hum of the old air conditioning. The weight of the night pressed in on you— quiet, comfortable, and full of possibilities you weren’t ready to voice just yet.

Dean kicked off his boots and tossed his jacket onto the chair by the door, then turned to face you. There was something different in his eyes now, something deeper, as if the last few hours had opened up a door neither of you could walk away from.

You stood by the bed, your heart thumping in your chest, but your feet seemed glued to the floor, unsure of what came next. His gaze flickered down to your hand, still resting in his from the diner, then back up to your face. That smile— always so effortless, so charming— pulled at the corner of his lips.

“You good?” he asked, voice soft, but with that low, steady warmth you knew so well.

“Yeah,” you whispered, your words barely escaping as your breath hitched. Your heart was racing, but you felt rooted to the spot, unsure if you should make the first move or wait for him to pull you in again.

Dean’s eyes never left yours as he slowly closed the distance between you, his movements slow, deliberate. You could feel the space between you getting smaller, the air in the room suddenly feeling thicker, charged with that same electricity you couldn’t ignore.

When he finally reached you, his hand came up to gently tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. His touch was soft, but there was no mistaking the heat in his fingers, the way they lingered just a little longer than necessary, as if he was trying to memorize the feel of your skin.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, eyes fluttering shut for a second, just to take in the moment. He was so close now. Close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off of him, close enough that the faint scent of the leather jacket he had left behind filled your senses.

Dean’s lips brushed against yours with a familiarity that made your heart skip a beat. This wasn’t the first time— far from it— but each time felt like it was. Every kiss was still a little bit like a spark, each one lighting a new fire. And tonight, there was something different. Something deeper, even though you’d been here before.

His fingers trailed down your arm again, slow and deliberate, like he was memorizing every inch of your skin as if he couldn’t get enough of it. You shifted beneath him, feeling the tension of the moment settle between your legs, but it wasn’t rushed. It never was with him.

“You know what you do to me, right?” Dean’s voice was low, rougher now, but laced with that familiar tenderness. He didn’t need to say it, not really. You could feel it in every touch, every lingering kiss.

You nodded, your lips parting as you leaned up to meet him halfway, pressing your body closer to his. You’d been here before, but that didn’t mean it ever lost its power. It was still just as electrifying, just as sweet.

His hands moved to the waistband of your jeans, pausing for just a moment as his eyes locked onto yours, searching for any hesitation. But there was none. You didn’t need words; your body told him everything. Your jeans met the floor with a slight thud.

With a deep, almost frustrated sigh, Dean pushed your jeans down just enough to slide his hand under them, his fingers skating over the curve of your hip. It was familiar, comforting even, but the way he touched you now felt different. There was a slowness, an intentional care in every movement. Like he wanted to savor you this time.

His lips met yours again, but this kiss was slower, more languid, as if he was taking his time, soaking in the moment. He kissed you like he was letting his feelings pour into every movement, every press of his lips, until the rest of the world disappeared.

“You make me forget everything else, you know that?” Dean’s breath was hot against your ear, his hands expertly undressing you, but it was still slow. As if he was enjoying the feel of your skin more than the outcome of it. You could tell that this wasn’t about rushing, about getting to the end. This was about being with you, right here, right now.

You breathed his name again, a plea more than a whisper, and Dean, ever the attentive lover, responded immediately, his lips trailing down your neck, to your chest, as his hand wandered over you, knowing exactly where to touch to make your breath hitch.

But this time, it wasn’t about the heat of the moment— it was about the slow, delicious build of something bigger. His lips left a trail of soft, lingering kisses across your skin as his hand gently slid down your side, his touch grounding you to the bed. His body moved against yours with that familiar rhythm, but tonight, it felt like it meant more. Like you meant more.

He paused for just a moment, looking at you with those eyes—dark and soft all at once. “I love you, ‘s fucking much. I wanna make you feel so good, baby.” His voice was thick with something deep, something serious, and it made your chest tighten with emotion.

You nodded, pulling him back to you, pressing your lips to his with a fierce intensity. It wasn’t just the physical connection anymore. This was something that went deeper, something stronger than before. And you wanted it. You wanted him.

Dean groaned as you tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer as he moved between your legs. You moan, as he skillfully worked his fingers in you, slowly climbing on top of you— as your head hit the not-so-soft pillows on the bed. You could feel the thrum of his heartbeat against yours, steady and strong.

“Dean…” The word came out like a breath, your fingers gripping his shoulders as you tugged him back up, wanting his lips on yours again. He smirked, just slightly, but there was nothing playful in the way his eyes held yours. It was all raw, all real.

“Easy,” he whispered, voice gruff but gentle as his thumb traced over your lip. “Atta girl, doing so good for me.. Don’t worry bout’ it, we can take your time.”

You nodded, your eyes heavy with desire but filled with trust. “I need you, De..” Your voice was soft, but there was a definite edge to it. The words felt like they had weight, like they meant something. Something more than just this moment.

He exhaled deeply, eyes darkening as his hand slid to your waist, guiding you beneath him as he moved down on you, slipping your panties fully off. The space between you was so minimal now that it felt like you were one.

His mouth lightly sucked on your needy clit, his thick fingers still working their magic inside you. You couldn’t help but let out an almost pornographic moan. You were so close, he could tell.

“Mhm, honey.. let it out, cum on my face,” he whispered against your needy pussy. The stubble on his jaw teasing you even more, as he practically buried his face in your wetness.

Oh, you were a goner. “Dean— fuck, I’m gonna—“ You didn’t even finish your sentence as the orgasm came rushing through you. As dean still worked, still slurping up your juices in his mouth like his life depended on it.

He finally let his face out of between your thighs, kissing you gently— letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

“You’re incredible,” Dean muttered, his voice raw as he pressed his forehead against yours, breathing deeply. “Never forget that.”

You met his gaze, your chest tight with emotion. “I won’t. Not with you.”

Dean’s lips found yours in a deep kiss, and as he slowly pulled back, his hand moved to your waist, gently coaxing your hips up against his. His jeans came off, so did the shirt — the sound of the zipper loud in the quiet of the room, and you felt a rush of heat flood your body again. He was so close, and yet, there was still something in the way he touched you that made everything feel like it was building to something more.

“Don’t tease me,” you whispered, your voice a little breathless, but there was a hint of playfulness too—something you knew he’d pick up on.

He smirked, his lips brushing your jaw as his body settled between your legs. “Me? Tease?” His voice was a teasing mockery of innocence, but there was nothing innocent in the way he touched you, nothing at all.

“Oh, yeah, and this? Off.” He gestured to your shirt, earning a chuckle from you. He skillfully pulled the shirt off of you, unclasping your bra with ease, gently touching up on your breasts.

Dean’s eyes never left yours, that fire still burning in them, but there was a softness there too, a tenderness that made your chest tighten. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured, the words slipping from his lips like a prayer. His lips moved to your neck again.

You looked at him wide-eyed, as he pressed his lips back onto yours briefly, before sliding one hand down his boxers, pulling his hard cock out of its confinements, already leaking with pre-cum. You never get tired of seeing it, really.

There’s a hunger in his gaze, but it’s a hunger you recognize—one that’s been building between you two, one that isn’t just about tonight. It’s deeper, quieter, but oh so real.

“Y’ ready for me?..” he murmured, and you could only respond with a soft ‘mhm’ sound, too turned on to make any proper sentence.

You’re not just the next moment in line for him— you’re everything. His hand on your skin, his body pressed to yours, it’s all proof of the quiet trust that’s been growing between you since day one.

You can feel the way his chest rises and falls with each breath, as he slowly pushes inside of you, his heart beating steady against yours. It’s like he’s giving you all of him, in this simple, quiet way, and you know you have his heart just as much as he has yours

“That’s it— Jesus, sweetheart. You’re still so fucking tight, can’t believe it’” he chuckles slowly, and you whimper when he finally gives all of himself for you. And he waits for your permission to start moving.

“De.. okay— you can move.” You manage to say breathlessly after a little bit. Nothing can prepare you for that moment, though. As he slowly moves in and out you swear you see stars. And gosh, the sounds that fill the room, it’s so goddamn good, you think before biting down the moan.

“Mhm, yeah.. So fuckin’ perfect, angel, you’re doing so well for me.” He almost whimpered. Goddamn you, Dean — And your filthy mouth.

His lips found yours again, and the kiss was deeper this time— full of assurance, of trust, of a promise that nothing could tear apart. You could feel how much he believed in the two of you, in the bond you shared.

His hands roamed your body, confident and firm, like he knew exactly where to touch to make you lose your breath. Every movement was purposeful, a teasing promise of what was to come.

“De— m’ so close, please” you managed to whimper through the moans, trying to keep up with his pace with your hips.

His lips lingered along your neck, kissing and nipping at your skin, his breath hot against your ear. “I know baby, me too. You can come, sweetness, m’ right there with you.” he murmured, his voice a hushed growl that sent shivers down your spine.

As you both reached your climax, you can’t help but smile. After the world-shifting intensity of the moment, you both lay there, tangled up in sheets and each other. Dean shifted just enough to pull you close, his chest rising and falling with a steady rhythm against yours, as though he was grounding himself in the softness of your presence.

His fingers brushed gently through your hair, the touch so tender it was almost as if he was trying to memorize every strand, every curve of you. The warmth between you didn’t need words; it was enough to feel him there, still connected to you in every possible way.

“Are you okay?” Dean’s voice was low, but it carried that softness you’d only hear when the walls were down and he wasn’t trying to hide anything. There was a genuine worry in his tone, an unwavering need to make sure you were feeling just as safe and cared for as he felt.

You nodded against his chest, your hand resting over his heart, feeling the steady beat that reminded you of the calm after the storm. “I’m perfect,” you whispered, your voice still a little breathless, but full of warmth.

Dean chuckled softly, the sound low and comforting, like it always was when he felt content. “Good. ‘Cause I’ve got you, and I’m not going anywhere,” he murmured, pulling you closer, his arm draping over you protectively as if making sure you stayed there, safe in his arms.

He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, the gesture soft and caring, his way of showing that there was more to him than just the physical connection. It was always about the little things—the way his touch lingered, the way his eyes softened when he looked at you, like you were the only person in the world that mattered.

There was no rush to get up, no need to fill the space with words that didn’t need to be said. You both understood each other in the quiet.

Dean’s thumb brushed against your hand in a rhythm that made you feel grounded, like he was telling you he was there in ways that didn’t need to be explained. Slowly, you let your eyes flutter closed, wrapped in the softness of his care, feeling safer than you had ever felt.

He kissed your forehead again, his voice barely above a whisper. “We’re good, you and me. Always gonna be good.”

And in that moment, with the faintest smile tugging at your lips, you knew he meant every word. The world outside the room didn’t matter, not when you had this—this peace, this love, this feeling of being completely and utterly cared for.

taglist; @lieutenantchaos ⊹ ࣪ ˖

tysm for reading pooks! more works incoming @ library. ⊹₊⟡⋆

── all rights reserved © 2025 wvyik | do not repost, copy, translate, or alter my work

[lightbulb-warning]

i used to freehand comics all the time as a child and since the part i liked was the drawing part i would just draw panel after panel because i didn't want to stop drawing to think about icky icky words, plus the story TOTALLY still made perfect sense! to me! and noone else, but 'whoooo caaaaares omgggg its not like comics and sequantial art are a communicative meeediummmm lmaoooooo'. i spent my entire childhood telling myself stuff like "oh pfft I know this story by heart- ill SIMPLY remember the dialogue and write it later" ...and. I can't help but admire baby maiora's (call that a minora ba tm tsk) fucking audacity? hubris? confident wrongness? kid couldn't even remember to finish the comics in the first place? INCREDIBLE levels of unearned self assurance, wish that were me, genuinely- what an icon!!! anyway i think i have forever cursed myself

[southern--downpour]

GOD SPIDERVERSE IS SO FUCKING GOOD

[caramelcoloredkiss]

hello! i saw ur post and im excited to read ur works so i decided to give u a request! hope u dont mind :3

m!reader who is really slim, not to the point he's unhealthy but just think of him having every girl's dream body, and then there's m!reader's bf who wants to see m!reader under all that baggy clothing but doesn't want to be too pushy so he waits until they finally decide to make love and the moment m!reader's bf sees such a heavenly sight, all he wants to mark him inside out!! kinks r up to u but i do would request creampie :3

First request from our lovely anon! Your wish is my command <3

"𝐻𝑜𝓁𝒹 𝓂𝑒 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓂𝑒𝒶𝓃 𝒾𝓉 ٭"

[OC!Malcom x Sub!Male reader]

"You were always avoiding the topic of sex when it came to your boyfriend, but being so stressed over the course of your semester. You just needed something to relieve stress. Luckily your boyfriend is just so happy to give it to you.

Contains: 18+ , sweet -> smutty, body worship, size difference, creampie, praise, insecure+anxiety filled!reader

Let me know if you have any feed back or criticism! Or just how you feel about this~

───────────────────────────

If there were a man that knew how to make you feel loved, it was your boyfriend.

Malcom was infatuated by your very existance. The way you laughed, spoke, and moved— by God it was like you put a curse on him. The smell of your cologne and shampoo had filled his senses; he had always held you close like it was his last.

You knew his love was bigger than anything else, but it always caught you off guard whenever he said it so casually. How were you able to get your hands in a man that had the biggest heart in the world? You weren't so sure.

"It's so unfair!"

You had felt yourself flinch from the sudden declaration; it was your friend, who had been laying on the carpeted ground of the living room in your apartment. She had began to talk about her exe's while you both worked on a document for your college assignment, honestly if you didn't know any better— she probably only came here to vent about more of her failed relationships.

"You seriously wouldn't believe it! The fucking asshole had the audacity to comment about my sex life! Like— if you want pussy that badly go to a prostitute! Or all the other fucking girls who you keep switching between every week!"

She huffed, pressing her face on the pillow she had taken from the sofa to muffle her uncontrollable yelling. Sofie had always been a bit easily agitated, but today was her last straw apparently.

"Why'd you even date him?"

You asked, pausing your typing on your laptop to lean back on the sofa while she rolled around on the floor, kicking her legs in the air. Your friend let out a sigh and took the pillow off her face, she looked extremely tired, did the situation really bother her that much?

"Look man.. He had good dick! But the asshole had something worth bragging and decided it was his whole personality! He was pretty big too so—"

Too much details!

"Okay stop! I don't wanna hear the details of you sex with him."

You shudder at the very thought of it, this girl was shameless, but she was your bestfriend so you couldn't complain about your choices.

"Whateverrr—"

Sofie sat up from the floor and stood up, heading towards your kitchen— your semi-kitchen anyways. She grabbed the caramel pudding that was stashed underneath, it was still so weird how she could just find the snacks Malcom buys you.

" anyways I probably shouldn't complain to you, not when your boyfriend was sent by God apparently. Seriously! He keeps buying you shit, my boyfriends couldn't even buy me flowers!"

"It's because he's nice to me, besides I buy him just as much the amount as he does for me."

Sofie teasingly rolled her eyes and peeled the packaging seal of the pudding, grabbing a spoon to eat.

"Mhm sure. Oh yeah— he dicked you down yet?"

You coughed out loud, choking in your own saliva; caught off guard by her words. Did this girl just wear no filter whenever you were around? Usually she was more shy with people.

"𝘚𝘰𝘧𝘪𝘦! Why are you so sex craved!?—"

"I am not! I just haven't heard much from you about yours, is he that bad?—"

"—well I wouldn't know! "

You both paused, sitting in silence. You didn't mean to say that—it was true but it didn't have to be said!

Closing your laptop, you put it besides you, theirs no way you could work under these way too personal questions.

"Oh, really? I heard Malcolm was pretty good. Did he not want to? Kinda fucked up if so." Sofie said, scooping a spoonful of pudding in the cup to shove in her mouth. Walking back to you to sit on the couch.

You shook your head, it wasn't like he didn't want to have sex with you. It was the fact that you were too scared to even show your body to him, you were slim, yeah it was almost every girls ideal body type— but you didn't even know if it was ��𝘪𝘴. You were already in disbelief by the fact that he even reciprocated feelings for you, sex was the last thing that came into your mind.

But it didn't mean you could avoid the image of his muscular arms caging you while you layed helpless at his mercy, not mentioning the fact that he constantly walked around shirtless in your apartment— You fought your urges every day at that point.

"Well if not, I say you should, we already finished our exams you might as well get some relaxation in your life before our semester is over— we only have to submit a few of our projects left anyways."

You felt your cheeks burn, it was ridiculous. The thought of finally making love to him made you feel completely weak, you weren't even sure if he wanted to have sex with you.

"—He's probably been waiting for you to give permission or something."

You could only hope she was right.

This is embarrassing.

You layed on your bed for what felt like hours, waiting for him.

"Why is he taking so long? Ugh, I might throw up."

Sitting up, you moved from your bed to open your bed side cabinet— you had bought some lube and condoms from the store just a bit earlier, having to go to the counter to purchase the said items made you want to curl up into a ball, for fucks sakes—

Of course the cashier wasn't the only one to witness you buy them!

You were an adult.

You weren't supposed to be ashamed for buying them, or even about sex in general! But you were a virgin, someone who had stayed far away from any form of sexual intimacy for the sake of your own dignity— and now you were offering it to 𝘩𝘪𝘮.

"Calm down, [Name]. If he doesn't want to that's fine, you can just cope with it and move on!"

You felt yourself shaking, dammit you felt pathetic. It wasn't your fault your mom wanted to keep you safe! Maybe this was a bad idea, if he didn't say anything then that probably meant he—

You felt a sudden pressure wrap around your waist, the figure burying it's nose at the crook of you neck.

"Hi baby.. I missed you.."

You made a quick reaction and closed your cabinet, praying he hadn't just seen what you prepared.

"M-Malcom! Hi— did your practice go well?"

Turning your body around to look at him, lifting his face off your neck—you gently caressed his face with incredible amounts of affection. While he had determinely locked his arms around your waist, seemingly needy for your touch.

"It was fine.. Took too long, it was a pain in the ass.. "

You nodded, as he leaned his face against your hand. Malcom had always been a bit clingy when he was exhausted— desperate to touch you and to feel his cold hands on your warm skin.

Malcom was beautiful, he had bronze skin that developed from all the times he bathed underneath the sun, and green eyes that just lit up every time he had something say. His hair was flawless, his sister had always taken care of it; dark brown and with a few strands of his hair framing his face— not to mention the mole underneath his lips. [Name] was desperate to see what else is underneath just his beauty, what would he look like when they were indulging in sinful acts, what would he whisper, what would he do.

—You wanted to know...

But, he looked so tired. Probably desperate to just lay in bed and cuddle, we're you really gonna be selfish enough to take that away from him? You didn't want that, so maybe it was alright to wait a bit longer.

"[Name], I heard from Sofie you wanted to talk to me about something.. "

Malcom whispered, pressing his lips against the palm of your hand while he looked down at you with half lidded eyes, not bothering to break eye contact.

Ah, so Sofie had been out to get you.

"Its— not important, you're probably exhausted right? Let's just go to bed—"

As you were about to pull away from his hold, he tightens his arms. Damn his muscular body!

Malcom was determined to get your words out of you, a tired Malcom wasn't easy to deal with.

"You know I don't like you lying to me, spit it out, hm?"

He kept his body firm and pressed you against his chest, he smelt good, he probably showered before coming here.

"I just— it's nothing."

Malcom sighed, giving you one last look of dissatisfaction. He let's go of your hug, which made you whine a bit, his body was warm! Before sitting down at the edge of your bed, pulling you by your arm to fall on his lap. Fuck, this wasn't the best position for someone who had just been craving to get fucked by the man in front of him. Your face was getting warmer and warmer each time he looked at you, this was gonna be hard.

"Please baby? I just wanna know what's botherin' you.. That's all."

He looked a bit sad, wrapping his arms around you waist once more to pull you closer to him, with your legs in between his hips. This man was seriously not helping you.

You let out a sigh, finally giving up on holding your ground. It wasn't like it was that strong anyways.

"I-Its just that, I noticed how we were both a bit stressed out during the semester.. And it made me think, we hadn't really done much to relieve ourselves... So I thought.. Maybe you wanted to.. "

"Make love?"

You blinked, his eyes were soft, but they looked crazed— like he had been waiting so long for this very moment. It honestly made you feel a bit nervous, you weren't prepared for the reaction he would give.

"Ah— yeah, I wanna make love to you, please.. I wanna feel you." You could die from over heating.

But that seemed to be the words he needed to hear, his lips pulling up to a soft smile.

"You could've just said so, I've been wanting for you.."

Before you could respond, he took your lips.

You held onto his bicep to avoid collapsing into his arms, reciprocating the heated kiss. Your abdomen felt like it was burning, just as you were desperately trying to taste every inch of his mouth. His tongue was dominating, sucking onto yours as your salivas was mixed with the messy kiss, occasional gasps and moans leaving your lips.

"Been waiting..so long— fuck."

"ah.. haa..Malcom—"

He pulled away, before returning for another serving, you could feel your head spin a bit. This much more intense your previous make out sessions.

You pull away this time, the string of saliva showing the previous connection of your lips. The illuminating lamp at the top of your cabinet was the only thing that lit up your otherwise pitch dark room. It has how you could see the look of hunger Malcom gave you, he didn't move his face any farther from just an inch, you could feel his hot breath hit your face. He pressed his lips on your right cheek, giving it a wet kiss before lowering his attention to you other half.

"You're so responsive.. [Name], strip for me, yeah? ."

"I-"

You couldn't believe this, when did Malcom become so blunt.

Despite your thoughts, you grabbed the hem of your sweatshirt, it was pretty big compared to you. If anything all of your clothes were to big for you, hiding your body unintentionally. So when you had pulled it off, Malcom stared. He looked so deeply enamored by how your body was made— how well it was made for him.

"You look so beautiful.. Such a pretty body, been hiding their away from for too long haven't you? [Name]."

He connected his lips to your neck, suckling at your skin as he licked and nipped the same spot, stopping and moving to the next. You let out small moans, which made you bite your lip to silence it, but Malcom didn't seem to appreciate it— pulling his lips away from your awfully sensitive skin.

"Don't do that, I wanna hear all you pretty sounds, I want everyone to know how good you feel.. "

You could only reluctantly nod, and let your whined moans strain— your throat from how intensely Malcom was sucking at your skin.

He lowered his attention each time he successful left a mark, using his calloused hands to rub the side of you waist, lowering his hand to squeeze your ass, which made you bite back a squeal.

"You're so cute [Name], wanna see all of you okay?"

You could only nod again, as he gently pulled you shorts down along with you briefs. Showing the obvious erection that had built up throughout the whole thing.

"Such a cute cock.. "

"H-Hey, stop saying embarrassing things.. "

Malcom let out a chuckle, as he kissed your jaw, letting your clothes fall on the floor. He lifts you up and lays your back on the bed as gently as he could, he supports himself on his knees while pulling his shirt off, throwing it carelessly on the floor along with the others.

"You are so fucking beautiful— [Name]"

He leans down to kiss your stomach, going back up to kiss you cheek. Why was he just so loving?

𝘖𝘩 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵.

"I-I bought lube, it's in the cabinet, s-so it'll be easier to..you know."

Malcom sat back up and reached his hand to slide open the cabinet.

"Came prepared huh, baby. Want we to stretch you out?"

"Y-Yeah.."

Malcom smiles, grabbing the tube of lube and squeezing a generous amount on his hand, spreading it throughout his fingers.

"Gonna slide it in okay?"

"O-okay"

He leans back down to hold you and just as he promised, he slid one of his finger in—fuck his finger was bigger than you thought.

"Hm.. You tried stretch yourself out.."

You nodded, burrying your face in his shoulder while he pumped his finger in and out of your hole.

"M' fingers weren't—ah!— e-enough.."

"You did good, I'll do the rest.."

You gasped and wrapped you hands around his torso, your nails piercing at his back, but he didn't seem to mind, only inserting a second finger in to thrust in your hole. The cold lube and his thick fingers were going to kill you, this was too much of a combination.

Malcom was a lot bigger than you thought, he was practically hiding your body from just how broad his shoulders were, not to mention the tent in his sweatpants weren't going unnoticed by just how— big it was..

"Aah—! f-fuck Mal— why are your fingers so big!?"

You screamed, feeling practically all three of his finger simultaneously out thrusting in and out of your hole. This was unfair, you were going to cum untouched at this point!

"You're just small, baby. S'not my fault you're so reactive.." He grinned, his canines displaying. This bastard!

"You—ahh!— wha—"

He hit your spot, and he didn't stop—curling his fingers to press your prostate, which just made you cry out a moan, your toes curling from the unexpected pleasure. This was too much.

He kept going, pumping his fingers and putting pressure on your prostate.

"M-Mal I'm gonna!—"

You came, squirts of white sticky cum came out the tip of your cock, you were holding on for so long. But Malcom looked satisfied, his smile never faltering as he kissed your tear filled eyes, licking away the salty water.

"You did so well baby, m' gonna fill you up now alright?—you look so pretty while cumming."

He pulled his fingers out of your hole, much to your disappointment. Malcom slid his sweatpants off along with his boxers, pumping his cock a few times before grabbing a pack of condom in your cabinet.

He was big, it was obvious, you knew it was going to be possible— but seeing it is leaving you speeches.

"Like what you see? It's all yours honey."

Malcom tears the condom with his teeth, it was hot. You weren't even going to lie about that, but seeing how he was rolling the condom on his cock made you feel dissapointed— you wanted to feel everything, his cock and his cum. You wanted to know how much he could shove inside you before it was too much.

"Ah... C-Can you not wear the condom?"

He looked back with a bit of confusion.

"Hm? Didn't you but this..?"

"Y-Yeah but, i— I want you to fill me."

Something seemed to have snapped inside of Malcom, he let out a small chuckle and dove back to your lips, giving it a rushed kiss.

"I'll fill you to the brim, don't worry baby.. "

He pulls the condom out his cock, throwing it the the side in favor of lining his leaking tip at your gaping hole. Malcom grabbed your thighs and pushed your knees to your chest, letting your cock lay pathetically on your stomach. You sucked in a deep breath as he slowly pushed his cock in.

You let out a shrilled moan, throwing your head back against the sheets of the bed while Malcom had leaned to connect your lips to his, trying to distract you from the hissing pain that was your asshole.

"Relax baby, it'll be in soon.. "

He kept kissing your lips, as you had wrapped your arms round his shoulders, clawing at his back. You would feel bad if it weren't for the incredible feeling of his cock filling your body, it was big—so big.

After a few minutes, you could Malcom's movements stop.

"It's in— m'gonna move now, alright baby?"

"haa—o-okay.."

Malcom's thrust were slow at first, which made you gasp and moan whenever he penetrated in. After a while his pace began quicker, making his cock go deeper and deeper in you.

"S-Shit, you're tight— fuck, you feel heavenly."

You could only cry out, as his cock moved deeper in, feeling every push that rush all the way to your throat. Both of you sweating, panting, and moaning about how good it felt.

His eyes glued onto yours, never breaking eye contact, his hair sticking slightly to his face as he caged you beneath his arms, this was like a fantasy. His cock was moving in and out as he whispered praises to you.

"You're so beautiful, fuck."

And—

"C-can't believe—shit— you were hiding such a sexy body away from me, hun. Not gonna stop until your filled and full, alright?—"

This bastard, acting like he could just say shit like that without making your heart drum. Malcom had kept thrusting his hips, chasing his climax just as much you craved to be stuffed full of his cum.

After a few more thrusting he came, strings of his thick warm cum filling you— to the point where it leaked out of you. But Malcom kept this thrusting, shoving his cum inside whilst latching his lips into yours.

Along with his cum, you came with him, your cum spraying pathetically on your stomach as it went limp.

And finally— he stops, using his cock to plug his cum inside, preventing it to spill out of you. You were full, the feeling of the warm liquid sitting inside your hole as his cock remained inside, you would die from this if you could.

You were both left panting, trying to catch your breath before he grins back down at you.

"How about another round, baby?"

You sipped the mug of coffee that your boyfriend had left you, even leaving a note as a good morning. He had only left a bit ago but he was planning to stay inside the dorm with you to have a date night. You couldn't wait.

A sudden ringing interrupted your thoughts, you checked to see your phone— it was Sofie.

"I should probably thank her.. "

You answered the call and pressed your phone to your ear.

"Yo, [Name]! Hopefully your fuck session went well, I heard it all the way next door! "

"Sofie I'm going to fucking kill you."

✩꙳I hope you enjoyed that! I had never wrote sex scenes before so I hope I did well~

-> Feel free to request more! Be as detailed as you'd like.

[promptedwordsmith]

Please mayhaps could you write something cute of Mc/Reader falling asleep while laying on their chest listening to their heartbeat 😭

inspired by this dialogue from Zayne I just got 🙈

Love your writing btw, I binge read all your stuff earlier…😭

Aww thank you!

Caleb

The night was quiet, save for the faint hum of the city in the distance. The stars stretched endlessly above you, faint against the glow of streetlights filtering through the window. The air was cool, a soft breeze shifting the curtains, but the warmth of Caleb beside you made the world feel impossibly small, like the only thing that mattered was the space between you.

You hadn’t meant to stay this late.

It had started with a casual visit—an excuse, really. Just an evening spent together after days of missing each other between missions and responsibilities. You had barely managed to steal moments alone lately, both of you too caught up in the demands of your work, your Evols, your duties. And now, here you were, hours later, lying on his couch, wrapped up in his presence as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Caleb sat against the cushions, his black and orange jacket tossed somewhere over the armrest, leaving him in just a simple t-shirt. He had one arm resting lazily behind his head, the other draped across your back. Your body was half on top of him, your cheek pressed against his chest, rising and falling with each steady breath he took.

The sound of his heartbeat filled your ears.

Strong. Constant. Safe.

You hadn’t planned on falling asleep like this. But after everything—after the exhaustion, the weeks of pushing forward without rest—this felt… inevitable. Like gravity pulling you down.

Caleb hadn’t moved much since you’d settled there, just enough to shift comfortably, to make sure you had the space to breathe. His fingers ghosted over your back, absentminded, soothing. He wasn’t speaking, but he didn’t need to. The warmth of his body, the solid presence of him beneath you—it was enough.

You felt his chest rumble slightly as he let out a breath, a soft chuckle you almost missed.

"Didn’t think you’d get this comfortable with me so soon."

You made a small noise in protest but didn’t lift your head. It was too much effort, and you were too content.

His fingers brushed against the curve of your shoulder, warm and slow. "Not that I mind," he murmured.

You sighed, shifting just slightly, letting your body mold more against his. “M’not comfortable,” you mumbled sleepily, words muffled against his shirt.

"Oh?" Amusement colored his voice.

"M’just… too tired to move."

He huffed a quiet laugh. "Right. That’s it."

You didn’t argue. You barely had the energy to think, much less banter with him. The steady thump-thump of his heart was lulling you under, making it hard to focus on anything but the warmth beneath your fingertips.

A few minutes passed in silence, peaceful and undisturbed. Caleb wasn’t one to stay still for long, not with the kind of life he led, but right now, he hadn’t moved an inch. Maybe he didn’t want to wake you. Maybe he just liked this as much as you did.

And then, in a voice quieter than before, he spoke again.

"Feels nice."

You made a questioning sound, but you didn’t open your eyes.

His fingers traced a slow, lazy path down your back. "Having you here like this."

Your heart skipped.

It wasn’t like Caleb to say things outright. Not when it came to feelings, anyway. He showed his affection in actions—through protection, through thoughtfulness, through every quiet way he looked after you. But every now and then, he let things slip.

And for some reason, this moment felt more intimate than any of the ones before.

You swallowed, suddenly more aware of how close you were. His heartbeat, still steady beneath your ear, was the only thing grounding you.

You exhaled. "I like it too."

His hand stilled for half a second, then continued its slow, absentminded movements.

You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that, wrapped up in each other, saying nothing at all.

Time didn’t matter.

The world outside didn’t matter.

All that mattered was the quiet rise and fall of his chest, the way his heart beat for you, with you.

And eventually, before you even realized it, you drifted into sleep, safe in his arms.

Caleb had lost count of how long he’d been lying there, unmoving, just watching you.

You had fallen asleep so easily against him, so naturally, as if you had always belonged there. Your breaths were soft, steady, barely more than a whisper against his skin. And your weight—light but present—felt right.

He exhaled, staring at the ceiling.

He should’ve moved. He should’ve carried you to bed, tucked you in properly, maybe even left the room to give you space.

But he didn’t.

Because some part of him—some deep, selfish part—couldn’t bring himself to let go.

His arms tightened around you, just slightly. He felt the way you shifted in response, curling closer in your sleep, like even unconscious, you knew you were safe with him.

That did something to him.

He had spent so long protecting you, making sure you were okay, keeping his distance where he thought you needed it. But now, here you were—sleeping soundly on his chest, trusting him without hesitation.

And it undid him.

His fingers traced absent patterns against your back, slow, thoughtful. He didn’t know if you’d even remember this in the morning, if you’d be embarrassed, if you’d pull away and act like it hadn’t happened. But he’d remember.

He’d remember the way your breathing synced with his, the way your body had fit against him like it was meant to be there. He’d remember the warmth of you, the way you had melted into him without fear.

And, more than anything, he’d remember the moment he realized—he never wanted this to end.

He exhaled, tilting his head just enough to press the lightest of kisses against your hair. A whisper of a touch, something you wouldn’t feel, something just for him.

"Sleep well," he murmured against your temple. "I’ll be here when you wake up."

And for once, he truly meant it.

Rafayel

Rafayel always ran a little warmer than most, his body heat like an ember refusing to die out. It was comforting in a way that made it difficult to resist curling up beside him, though you rarely admitted that out loud. He’d be insufferable if you did, teasing you with that lazy grin, calling you clingy despite the fact that he was the one who draped himself over you like a heavy blanket more often than not.

Tonight was no different.

It had been a long day—one of those days where exhaustion settled into your bones like a permanent weight. The kind of day where even lifting a hand to wave away Rafayel’s usual antics felt like too much effort. You had barely managed to shuffle into his home, kicking off your shoes in a haphazard heap by the door before collapsing onto his couch without so much as a greeting.

Rafayel, ever the dramatic one, had let out an exaggerated sigh as he flopped down beside you, slouching against the cushions as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders. “You look like you’ve fought an entire army and lost.”

You hummed in response, not even bothering to open your eyes.

That wasn’t enough for him, of course. He prodded your arm with a single finger, then two, then your cheek, then your forehead—until you swatted weakly at his hand, cracking one eye open to glare at him.

“If you don’t let me rest, I’ll—”

“What?” He smirked, all sharp teeth and amusement. “Throw me out? I live here.”

You groaned, rolling onto your side to put your back to him, but it was no use. Rafayel was persistent when he wanted to be. His arm slung itself over your waist, not quite pulling you in, but making sure you couldn’t wriggle away either.

“Stay up with me,” he murmured.

“No.”

“Rude.”

You huffed a small laugh, but the exhaustion was winning. You felt the weight of his arm shift slightly, and before you knew it, he was adjusting, coaxing you effortlessly into his embrace as if it was second nature.

You barely resisted.

His chest was warm beneath your cheek, rising and falling in an easy rhythm, his heartbeat a steady thump-thump against your ear. You listened without thinking, without meaning to, letting the sound ground you in a way that nothing else could.

“Comfortable?” Rafayel’s voice was softer now, lacking his usual teasing lilt.

You made a vague sound of agreement, nuzzling just a little closer.

His fingers skimmed lightly over your back, absentmindedly tracing little shapes into your shirt. “You’re hopeless, you know that?”

“Mhm.”

“You weren’t supposed to agree.”

You smiled sleepily.

Silence stretched between you, but it wasn’t empty. It was full of the warmth of his body, the scent of sea breeze and something faintly sweet, the quiet lull of his breathing.

Thump-thump. Thump-thump.

You wondered if he even realized how soothing it was. If he knew how easily he could lull you to sleep just by being there.

His hand stilled against your back, and for a moment, you thought maybe he had fallen asleep too. But then, his voice—softer now, barely above a whisper—broke the silence.

“You do this a lot.”

You hummed, half-asleep already. “Do what?”

“Listen to my heartbeat.”

Your eyes cracked open just enough to peek up at him, but his expression was unreadable in the dim light. His gaze was focused on the ceiling, his lips pressed together in quiet contemplation.

You shrugged, your fingers absentmindedly curling into the fabric of his shirt. “It’s… nice.”

Rafayel let out a small breath of amusement, though there was something thoughtful in the way he tightened his grip around you, as if trying to pull you just a little closer. “I don’t think anyone’s ever told me that before.”

You blinked sleepily. “Really?”

He tilted his head slightly, as if considering it. “Most people don’t get close enough to notice.”

That made sense, you supposed. Rafayel was not an easy person to get close to. He could charm his way into any room, could captivate entire crowds with his talent and confidence—but when it came to true closeness, true intimacy, he chose his moments carefully. He built walls around himself, kept his distance from the world even as he stood in its spotlight.

But with you…

You weren’t entirely sure when it had changed. When the teasing had shifted into something softer, something real. When he had stopped keeping you at arm’s length.

Maybe it had been gradual, like the way the tide reshapes the shore over time.

Or maybe it had always been there, waiting to be acknowledged.

His fingers resumed their absentminded tracing against your back. “Does it make you feel safe?”

You hesitated for only a second before nodding. “Yeah.”

Rafayel exhaled, a breath that sounded far too heavy for such a simple conversation. But he didn’t say anything else.

His heartbeat continued its steady rhythm beneath your ear.

Thump-thump. Thump-thump.

You sighed, letting your eyes drift shut again. Sleep pulled at you like a tide, warm and steady.

You didn’t know how long you lay there, tangled up in each other, before Rafayel finally spoke again, voice so quiet you almost thought you imagined it.

“…Good.”

And then, as if nothing had happened, his fingers continued their slow, lazy patterns against your back, lulling you further into sleep.

The last thing you felt before drifting off completely was the faintest press of lips against the top of your head.

Rafayel didn’t say anything else.

He didn’t need to.

Sylus

The night was warm, the kind of heat that settled under your skin and refused to let go. The air carried the faint scent of rain from earlier, mixing with the smoky tang of the fire burning low in Sylus’ study. You had been sprawled across the couch for what felt like hours, tossing and turning, trying to get comfortable, but no matter what you did, rest wouldn’t come.

You huffed, rolling onto your stomach, cheek pressing into the cushion. Across the room, Sylus sat at his desk, flipping through a dossier with the kind of effortless focus that made you want to be a distraction. He had been watching you from the corner of his eye for a while now, though he hadn’t said anything—probably waiting for you to admit defeat first.

"You’re brooding," he finally murmured, flipping another page.

You groaned. "I don’t brood."

His lips curled slightly, but he didn’t look up. "You do when you don’t get your way."

Your head snapped up, eyes narrowing. "Excuse me?"

He turned a page with an infuriating level of ease. Smug bastard.

"You heard me," he mused. "Something’s bothering you. You don’t want to admit it, but you also want me to figure it out for you. You’re restless, and I don’t like it."

You scoffed, pushing yourself up. "You don’t like it? Oh no, whatever shall I do?"

Sylus sighed, finally looking up at you, his crimson gaze dark and knowing. "Come here."

You sat up fully, arms crossing over your chest. "No."

His expression didn’t change, but you saw the flicker of amusement in his eyes. "No?"

You smirked, lifting your chin. "You want me? You come get me."

For a moment, he just stared at you, as if weighing his options. Then, without warning, he moved.

You barely had time to react before a shadow loomed over you, arms slipping around you with the kind of effortless strength that made resistance seem laughable.

"Sylus!" you yelped, squirming as he lifted you off the couch like you weighed nothing.

"Problem, kitten?" he murmured, the warmth of his breath brushing against your temple as he adjusted you against his chest.

You kicked your feet, half-heartedly shoving at his shoulder, but he didn’t so much as flinch. Instead, he sank back into his chair, pulling you down with him, settling you against him.

Your back rested against his chest, his arms lazily draped around your waist, as if holding you there was the most natural thing in the world.

"You’re ridiculous," you grumbled.

"And yet," he mused, resting his chin lightly against the top of your head, "you always end up right where I want you."

You huffed, about to argue, but then—you heard it.

The steady, unshaken rhythm of his heartbeat.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Slow. Certain. Unyielding.

For a moment, you forgot why you had been restless in the first place. The world outside faded, the tension in your limbs melting into the warmth of his body. His heartbeat filled the silence, a constant, grounding sound that made everything else feel so small.

You swallowed, suddenly hyper-aware of everything—his warmth, the slow rise and fall of his chest against your back, the way his fingers had started tracing small, absentminded circles against your ribs.

"You’re listening," he murmured, voice quieter now.

You didn’t answer. You didn’t need to.

His heartbeat was so steady, so sure. A deep, resounding thing that made you realize just how erratic your own had been all night. But now… now you were matching him, falling into the rhythm of him.

A breath.

A beat.

A moment.

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his sleeve, gripping just a little tighter.

"...You’re annoying," you mumbled.

Sylus huffed a quiet laugh, his fingers slipping up to cup your jaw, tilting your face just enough for your eyes to meet his. "And you’re a brat," he murmured.

Your lips parted, but no words came.

Because his gaze wasn’t teasing anymore. It was soft. Intense in a way that made your stomach twist and your pulse stutter, despite the slow, grounding rhythm of his own beneath you.

"...Don’t do that again," he said after a moment.

Your brow furrowed slightly. "Do what?"

"Try to deal with things on your own when you don’t have to." His voice was low, serious. Final.

You swallowed hard.

Sylus was not a man who needed anyone. He was self-sufficient, independent, a lone wolf who had built an empire from the shadows. But with you, he let himself be different.

And this? This was him asking you to do the same.

You let out a slow breath, turning your face back into his chest. His heartbeat was still there, still steady, still constant.

Your fingers loosened against his sleeve, your grip no longer desperate, but something else. Something trusting.

"...Okay," you whispered.

Sylus let out a quiet hum, satisfied with your answer. His arm tightened just slightly around you, and for the first time that night, you weren’t restless anymore.

You listened.

To the crackling fire. To the distant city.

To him.

To his heartbeat.

And slowly, carefully—you matched it.

Xavier

The steady rhythm of Xavier’s heartbeat was the only sound you could focus on. A soft, constant thump-thump, thump-thump beneath your ear, grounding and unwavering. It was late—too late—but exhaustion had long since settled into your bones, making your eyelids heavy.

You hadn’t meant to end up like this, curled against him with your cheek resting over his chest, legs tangled loosely. It had started as a simple evening together, the two of you stretched out on the couch, basking in the rare quiet. The mission earlier had been grueling—physically and mentally draining—and you had been too sore to move much, content just to exist in Xavier’s presence.

He had been the one to pull you close, an arm draped lazily around your waist as if it was second nature. And now, as you lay against him, your body melting into the warmth of his own, you realized how easy this felt.

His fingers traced light, absent-minded patterns against your back, the touch featherlight, almost reverent. You could feel his breath ruffle your hair every now and then, slow and even. The city lights outside cast a faint glow across the room, flickering against the walls, but neither of you made a move to turn on the lamp.

"You're quiet," Xavier murmured. His voice was deep, a little rough, the kind of tone that made something inside you settle. "Tired?"

You hummed in response, nuzzling just slightly into his chest. "Mm. Comfy."

A soft chuckle rumbled beneath you, and you could feel his amusement more than you could hear it. "So, you're just using me as a pillow, then?"

You smirked but didn’t open your eyes. "You make a good one."

Xavier huffed, but his hand on your back didn't stop its slow, lazy movements. "Lucky me."

There was no teasing in his voice, though—just something warm, something fond.

It wasn’t often that you got to be like this with him. Unrushed. No missions, no battle wounds, no chaos pulling you in opposite directions. Just you and him, together.

And God, it felt good.

His heartbeat was steady beneath your cheek, a quiet, comforting rhythm that made the exhaustion settle even deeper in your body.

Xavier didn’t push you to stay awake, didn’t urge you into conversation. He just let you rest.

And maybe that was what made it so easy to finally let yourself relax.

At some point, you started drifting.

It was slow, like sinking into warm water, the world softening around the edges. You could still hear him breathing, still feel the rise and fall of his chest, but everything was beginning to feel lighter.

And then—

A soft voice, close. "You gonna fall asleep on me?"

You made a vague noise of acknowledgment but didn’t move.

Another chuckle. "That’s a yes."

You felt him shift slightly, adjusting his hold on you, but he didn’t pull away. If anything, his grip on your waist tightened just slightly, as if anchoring you to him.

"You’re warm," you muttered, your voice sluggish with exhaustion.

Xavier huffed out a breath. "You're barely awake and that's what you choose to say?"

You smiled against his shirt. "Mhm."

For a moment, there was only silence.

Then, softer—quieter—"Good."

You might have imagined it, but his hand moved to cradle the back of your head, fingers threading gently through your hair. A touch so light it almost wasn’t there at all.

You sighed, content, before finally letting yourself fall.

When you woke up, you weren’t sure how long you had been asleep.

The first thing you noticed was that you were still on Xavier’s chest, still curled up against him like you had never moved. The second thing you noticed was that he hadn't moved either.

His arms were still wrapped around you, one hand resting at your lower back, the other still tangled lightly in your hair. His breathing was deep and even, but you weren’t sure if he was actually asleep or just resting.

You shifted slightly, tilting your head to glance up at him, and—

He was awake.

His blue eyes, always sharp and focused, were soft as they met yours. There was no teasing smirk, no witty remark. Just quiet warmth, something unreadable flickering in his expression.

"Morning," he murmured.

You blinked, still groggy. "Is it?"

A small, amused huff. "No. But you’ve been out for a while."

You exhaled, stretching slightly but making no effort to move away. "Why didn’t you wake me?"

Xavier’s fingers ghosted against your back again, tracing idle shapes. "Because you looked peaceful."

You stared at him for a moment, then rested your head back against his chest. "...Still comfy."

This time, he laughed—a soft, real laugh, not one of his usual teasing chuckles.

"You just gonna stay here forever, then?"

You hummed. "Might."

His heartbeat was still steady beneath your ear, his warmth still pulling you under. And God, if it was up to you, you wouldn’t move at all.

You must have fallen asleep again, because when you woke up next, the lights outside had shifted. The city was still glowing, but the colors were different—softer, cooler, as if the night had settled deeper.

You yawned, stretching slightly before blinking up at Xavier again. He was asleep now, his face more relaxed than you had ever seen it.

And something about that made you pause.

Xavier never truly let his guard down. Even when he was exhausted, even when he was resting, there was always something about him that remained sharp. Always aware, always prepared for whatever came next.

But right now?

Right now, he was peaceful. His lips were slightly parted, his expression free of tension, his breathing slow and even.

And you realized, with a quiet pang in your chest, that he had fallen asleep because he trusted you.

Carefully, hesitantly, you lifted a hand to brush a strand of silver hair from his forehead. Your fingers barely grazed his skin, but he didn’t stir.

You swallowed, something unspoken tightening in your throat.

You were safe with him.

And maybe—just maybe—he was safe with you, too.

You smiled, small but genuine, before settling back against him.

"Sleep well, Xavier," you whispered, knowing he wouldn’t hear you.

Then, listening to the steady sound of his heartbeat, you let yourself drift off once more.

Zayne

The world outside had slipped into an almost unnatural silence, the kind that only seemed to happen in the late hours of the night when everything around you had finally fallen still. The air was crisp and cool, but inside, the warmth of the apartment wrapped around you like a soft blanket. You had spent the evening together—dinner, quiet conversation, and some small talk that had faded into comfortable silence. Zayne’s usual stoic nature had softened somewhat, allowing you a glimpse of the ease he usually kept hidden behind the layers of his professionalism.

The clock on the wall ticked slowly as you settled beside him on the couch. Zayne sat with his legs stretched out in front of him, his back straight despite the fact that he had obviously spent long hours at work. His three-piece suit was loosened now—the jacket discarded, the top button of his shirt undone, and his glasses resting casually on the coffee table in front of him.

You noticed the tension in his shoulders, how he unconsciously worked his jaw, as if the stress of the day was still weighing heavily on him. Even after everything he had done, the hours he had put in, he still couldn’t seem to let go.

Without a word, you shifted closer, your body naturally gravitating toward his warmth. Zayne didn’t seem to notice at first, absorbed in his own thoughts, but when you rested your head gently against his chest, you felt him pause.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The quiet in the room was broken only by the soft hum of the city in the distance and the low sound of Zayne’s breathing.

Then, you heard it.

Thud-thud.

His heartbeat.

Slow, steady, and constant.

It was like a pulse that reverberated through his body, steadying your own. You hadn’t realized how much you missed it, how much you needed to hear it, until now. There was something about the sound of his heartbeat—something reassuring. Something grounding.

Zayne shifted, his hand slowly moving to your back, his touch light and hesitant at first, as though unsure whether he should be the one to initiate any sort of contact. But when he felt you settle against him, the tension in his fingers eased.

“You’re tired,” he whispered softly, his voice low and warm.

You hummed in response, not sure if you wanted to admit how exhausted you truly were.

“I know,” you murmured, your voice barely audible.

Zayne’s hand moved slightly, his fingers brushing gently against your back, tracing light patterns across your shirt. There was no hurry in his movements—no urgency, just a simple, soft touch that seemed to say more than words ever could. The rhythm of his heartbeat against your ear grew louder, the thudding echoing in your mind as you closed your eyes, allowing it to lull you further into the moment.

His fingers brushed the nape of your neck, the motion tender, and for a fleeting moment, you felt the warmth of his touch in places you didn’t know you’d been longing for. The affection in his actions, the unspoken connection between you, was enough to make you feel more at ease than you ever had before.

Zayne was never one to show too much emotion, at least not outwardly. His professional demeanor kept him composed, distant even when he cared deeply. But in moments like this, where the world outside faded into a blur, it was as though his true self could breathe, and you could feel the softness beneath the armor he wore so often.

Thud-thud.

It was so constant, so unchanging. A reminder that no matter what the day had thrown at either of you, here, in this moment, things were calm. You were safe.

You pressed your ear a little closer to his chest, your cheek resting on the fabric of his shirt. The steady beat of his heart was becoming something you could depend on, something more constant than the passage of time.

“I’ve got you,” he said after a long pause, and even though it was a simple statement, it was one that carried the weight of his every unspoken promise.

You felt his hand move up, brushing softly through your hair, the action slow and deliberate. It wasn’t hurried. It wasn’t forceful. It was just him, being present. Being there.

“I know,” you whispered back.

The room was so still, so quiet. Zayne didn’t speak again. He didn’t need to. His presence, his heartbeat, was enough to keep you tethered to the moment, to him.

You allowed yourself to settle even further, your exhaustion beginning to take hold in a deeper way now. But there was something else there too—a feeling of peace, of contentment that you hadn’t realized you were craving. His touch was the anchor that kept you from drifting into sleep completely.

When you let your eyes fall shut, the warmth of his body against yours seemed to blanket you in comfort. You could feel the faint rise and fall of his chest beneath you, the subtle movement of his body, and the weight of his hand against your back. Everything about him—the rhythm of his heart, the quiet of his breathing, the soothing motions of his hand—wrapped you in something that felt like home.

“Stay with me for a little longer,” Zayne murmured, his voice a soft plea in the dim light of the room.

You didn’t answer immediately, simply nuzzling closer, breathing in the familiar scent of him—clean, calm, and grounded.

There was no rush. No need to go anywhere.

It was just you and him.

The thud of his heartbeat was all you needed. It was enough to lull you deeper into sleep, into dreams where his presence remained close.

Thud-thud.

The rhythm of his heart.

And in that moment, you knew there was nowhere else you’d rather be.

[peachsukii]

✮ content. fluff! slightly suggestive if you squint. fighting the worst headache but thinking about bakugo helps. 💕 @pixelcafe-network

『 rei’s softie sundays 』

It’s 3AM by the time Bakugo begrudgingly walks back through the door of your shared home, heavy boots finding their place in the closet and keys tossed onto the counter with a clink. He’s moves in silence, careful not to wake you as he rummages around the kitchen for something to quiet the rumbling in his stomach. Not long after, he sneaks into the shower to scrub the grime from his skin, a mixture of sweat, dirt and anything else he picked up on patrol. By the time he’s ready for bed, it’s quarter to four in the morning.

You hear the creak of the floorboards under Bakugo’s feet and stir awake, stretching like a cat under the covers with a soft groan.

“Hey Kats,” you yawn, turning to face him. “What time is it?”

“Didn’t mean to wake ya, sweetheart. S’almost four.”

Even though you can’t quite see him, you know Bakugo’s exhausted by the sound of his voice. He crawls into the bed, slipping under the comforter before you feel his palm finding your cheek through the darkness to pull your face toward his. Soft, slightly minty, lips collide with yours, his chest pressing your back into the mattress as he hovers above you.

“I love you,” Bakugo mumbles against your lips between gentle pecks, each one a moment longer than the last. He always gets lovey dovey after a night shift, too exhausted to have any sort of filter for himself. Normally, he’ll press a kiss to your shoulder, neck, cheek or forehead after he settles into bed, a small way for you to know he’s home without fully waking you. But tonight? There’s a spark in his touch, that large hand traveling from your cheek to your waist, his thumb drawing circles against your hip. Bakugo breaks away from your lips after a deeper, longer kiss, his forehead resting against yours.

“I love you too,” you finally whisper in response, nuzzling his nose with your own. “Why do I get the feeling you’re not tired enough to sleep?”

Bakugo lets out a breathless laugh, the hand on your hip slowly moving down to squeeze your thigh. “Fuckin’ exhausted. Could pass out any second unless you keep kissin’ me like that.” He pauses to lightly nip at your bottom lip, grinning to himself when he feels your thigh tremble under his fingers. “What’s ten more minutes if I get to spend it wrapped up in you?”

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Surprise Marriage

Summary: Logan x Fe!Reader -> When you and Logan receive some...surprising news, it leads to a lot of unanswered questions.

Disclaimer: One or two swear words here and there. Mostly fluff, chaos, little angst, yearning, kissing and a happy ending. Not Proof Read.

The morning, so far, had been slow for Logan. 

Which, thankfully, due to the last couple of years, wasn’t out of the ordinary. Sure, a kid or two might forget to have done their homework or the coffee filter hadn’t been changed. But other than the small, common, everyday mishaps, everything had been pretty normal. 

But somehow, when Logan woke up, something felt off. 

Maybe it was the quiet hallways, maybe it was the fact he hadn’t seen any other professors in the break room or around the school, or maybe it was the fact that when he walked into the Professor's office, everyone looked at him with…worry. 

“What is it? What’s going on?”

“Logan, I think it’s best if you sit down.”

Logan looked around everybody and they all looked worried, too. Not “someone’s dead” worried, but worried enough to make him feel uneasy. 

“What’s going on?”

“Have you seen Y/n today?”

Logan shook his head. “She had a late night. She’s probably still sleeping.”

Professor X looked at Storm. “Go and get her for me, please.”

Storm nodded and made her way out of the door and towards your bedroom. Meanwhile, Logan was still confused. 

“Charles, what’s going on?”

The man took a small sigh and looked at the papers on his desk before looking back up to Logan. 

“Come on, clearly everyone else knows. What is it?”

The Professor went back and forth with himself for a minute before finally looking back up. “I suppose I should tell you. You’re married, Logan.”

Logan laughed. “Excuse me?”

“I received these papers this morning from a law firm in Oklahoma. It seems it took them a while to find an address for you both.”

“Both? What?”

“Here, take a look for yourself.” The Professor pushed the papers to the edge of his desk where Logan took them with caution and a lot of confusion. 

“What the hell? When were these even..drawn up? Better yet, who’s my wife?”

“Well, that would be the other question except-”

Just as the Professor was about to finish his sentence, the door to his office opened and Storm walked in with you not far behind. Everyone looked at you…worriedly. Like they knew something you didn’t. 

Logan looked annoyed as he flipped through a couple sheets of paper but when he saw you, he held the same expression but only for a minute then it turned into…into something else. Something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. 

Then you remembered. 

It had been laundry day. 

And you wore one of his shirts to bed. 

Standing in his t-shirt and some plaid pyjama shorts that you found in the back of your wardrobe, your hair down and slightly messy from having only just woken up, you looked around everyone. 

“What’s going on?”

“Well, Y/n-”

“Take a look at this.” Logan handed you the pile of paper he had been reading, and with a slightly tired and confused look, you read through it. 

What was it meant to be? A news article? A government contract? A kid’s essay who’s handwriting they couldn’t read…again?

But no. 

It was anything but. 

Well, maybe a government contract…of sorts. 

“This is a marriage licence.” You spoke aloud. “Logan, why am I looking at a marriage licence at eight in the morning? Oh my god, are Jean and Scott finally getting hitched. About time.”

“No,” Logan said. “It’s ours.”

“What?”

“It’s ours. We’re married.”

You stopped reading. Even if you had pretended to do so, all the words on the page suddenly became blocks of ink that you couldn’t make out. 

“What?”

Then the Professor started to explain. “We were hoping one of you could explain this to us, though if neither of you wish to, that’s completely fine. What happens between a husband and wife is none of our-”

“When did this even happen?” You asked Logan. 

“I don’t know.”

“A law firm in Oklahoma sent it over. Apparently it’s taken them a while to find your address.”

You thought for a moment. Yourself and Logan hadn’t been in Oklahoma for nearly ten months. And you certainly didn’t get married. At least, not from memory. 

“I need to sit down.”

Logan pushed out the chair beside him with his foot and you fell into the softer leather. You had just woken up and all of a sudden you felt like you wanted to sleep for at least a month. 

“We’re married? Are you sure it’s ours? Maybe they got the addresses mixed up and…I don’t know. Got it wrong?”

Logan leaned back and pressed his hand to the side of his face. “Flipped to the back page.”

And so you did. 

There was your name. And Logan’s. Signed and dated. 

You were married to Logan. 

Logan had become your husband as of ten months ago. 

You had become Logan’s wife. 

“I think I’m gonna puke.”

“You’re not pregnant, are you?” Scott said. Jean hit him on the arm. “What?”

“Hard to not be a little offended at that.” Logan said, half under his breath, half to you. 

“Do either of you know when this happened?”

You shook your head, still trying to read the pieces of paper in front of you. When could this have-

“The library.”

“What?” 

Logan sat up. “We signed for a package. What kind of delivery company has us sign a marriage contract instead?”

“I don’t know but it had to be there. That’s the only time we ever…wrote our names, signed a piece of paper. It could have been this.”

“We would have noticed if it said “MARRIAGE LICENCE” at the top of the page.”

Then the bell rang. 

“We…should pick this up later. For now, let's just try and go about today as normal.”

You could only nod in agreement. And as everyone left, the Professor turned to both you and Logan who were sitting facing each other in your chairs. 

“I’ll give you both some time.”

Logan nodded a small thank you and waited until the door closed behind Xavier before he spoke. 

You were silent. Still processing. Your heart was like rapid fire against your chest and your vision was slowly losing focus on the paper in front of you. 

Logan pulled the paper from your hands and placed it on the desk before shuffling closer and holding onto both of your hands. 

“Hey, hey, look at me.” One of Logan’s hands came to rest by the side of your face. “Just breathe. I can hear your heartbeat from here. Just…take a deep breath.”

“We’re married, Logan.” Your voice was quieter than usual. 

“I know.”

“We’re married.”

Logan nodded. “I know.”

“What are we going to do?”

“That one I don’t know. What do you want to do?”

You shrugged. “What are we meant to do? By all technicality…we’re married. Husband and Wife. According to this piece of paper, I’ve been a fraud to the government by not going by Howlett.”

“So we…we get a divorce?”

“How? Don’t there have to be…grounds for getting divorced?”

“So, we tell them it was a mistake.” Logan offered. “I’m sure we’ll be divorced as quick as we found out we were- are married.”

You could only nod. 

Logan rubbed a thumb over each of your knuckles. “Hey, we’ll be okay. It’ll all be fine. Hey, talk to me. What’s going on?”

“I woke up and found out I’m a wife with a husband. That’s what’s going on. Jesus, are the lights always this bright in here?”

You covered your closed eyes with one hand, trying your best to stop the pounding in your head. 

“How can you be so calm about this?”

Logan shrugged. “Figure you’re freaking out enough for the both of us.”

That made you laugh a little. 

“Come on, we need to get to class. And you need to get dressed. Unless you want to teach in your pyjamas.”

You looked down at yourself. “Oh, yeah. Sorry about using your t-shirt. Laundry day.”

Logan smiled. “It’s okay. Keep it. It looks better on you anyway.”

Hours later, you found yourself in a pair of jeans you fished from the bottom of your semi-fresh clothes pile and decided to keep Logan’s t-shirt on. A, because it’s one of the most comfortable things you’ve worn, and B, it was the only clean top you had. 

And after spending all day teaching classes, you found yourself going through each of your dirty items and throwing them into the washing machine, being careful to make sure there were no sneaky bright or dark colours that made their way into a wash they shouldn’t have been in. 

“Hey.”

You turned to find Storm waiting by the door before walking inside. 

“Hey.”

“How are you feeling?”

“After teaching a bunch of teenagers all day? Exhausted.” You said with a small laugh. And Storm chuckled for a moment before walking around you and leaning on the wall so she was facing you as you unloaded your dirty laundry into the machine. 

“I know that feeling but that wasn’t why I was asking.”

You nodded. You knew that. “I don’t know. It’s just…new information.”

“Have you seen Logan today?”

You shook your head. “Not since this morning. Though he did leave a coffee on my desk when I got back to my classroom after lunch.”

Storm smiled. Between herself and the others (including the kids - though they were yet to find out) Storm thought the best thing to happen was for yourself and Logan to get married. Okay, maybe not in the way it happened. But it was a positive thing. 

They had been watching you and Logan for years, becoming friends, becoming teammates, trusting each other, finding your own…ways together. Like with the coffee. Logan only did that with you. Or how, despite only knowing him a week, seemed to know more about him than anyone else did. 

You were both so close with each other than some of the kids in the school had questioned your relationship status with each other. 

“Have you talked about what you’re going to do?”

“What can we do? The most reasonable, and sensible, thing to do is get a divorce.”

Storm crossed her arms. “Have you talked about maybe…staying together?”

“What?”

Storm shrugged. “It’s an idea. Maybe this is a sign telling you both that there’s something more than just friendship. I mean, going off what you’re currently wearing…that is his, isn’t it?”

You looked down. 

“It’s laundry day. He let me wear it.”

“And are you going to give it back, or did he tell you to keep it?”

You were silent and Storm watched as small patches of blush warmed your cheeks. She had her answer. 

“Look, all I’m saying is, maybe this is a sign. Maybe this is your chance to see if there is something more between you and Logan.”

“If there was, something would have happened by now.”

Oh, how Storm wished that was true. 

But sometimes it was agony watching you both together. Like how at Christmas, you fell asleep against him by the fire and Logan smiled. It wasn’t a big grin, but he smiled. Or how you were the only one Logan would let near him when he had been impaled in his shoulder by a six foot rod. Or how you looked at him. And how he looked at you right back. 

There was more than just friendship. A lot more. 

“Just think about it.”

And with that she left. And you were left wondering. 

What the hell was there to think about? You and Logan were friends, sure, but…more? Sure, when you first met him, it felt instant. Instant likeness, instant trust. And that never came easy for you. Or Logan for that matter. And, yeah, maybe once or twice you had thought something could have happened. 

Like the night in the motel room, funnily enough, in Oklahoma. 

It had been one bed and you had both woken up and turned to face each other. You had both been talking for a good twenty minutes when the conversation lulled and you were both there. You felt something. You couldn’t put your finger on it but you felt something. But everything was cut short when the owner of the Motel came to knock on the door so he could fix the leaky tap in the bathroom. 

Or like the night when you all went camping with the kids. 

Somehow, you had found yourself sharing a tent with Logan even though it had been planned for you and Storm to bunk. 

You teased Logan on how happy he was to be bunked with you and not Scott. And for a split second, you could have sworn you saw him blush. Though it was probably out of embarrassment of your teasing. 

But that couldn’t have been something. It couldn’t have meant anything, could it?

“Couldn’t sleep?”

Logan turned and found the last person he expected to be standing by the door. 

“Scott?”

“Figured you’d still be awake and lo and behold, I was right.”

Logan watched as he walked inside and sat across from him. “Have you come to say something, or just be a dick the whole time?”

Scott chuckled, “Maybe a bit of both.”

Logan raised his eyebrows and took another drink. 

“Have you talked to her?” Logan knew exactly who he was talking about. But he shook his head. 

“Not since this morning.”

“Have you talked about what you’re going to do?”

“What do you want, pal?”

Well, he wasn’t being Logan if he didn’t want to skip the pleasantries. 

“I think you and Y/n should give this thing a chance.”

“Excuse me?”

Scott smirked a little. “Come on, you can’t tell me you’ve not thought about it with her. How close you two are, how you both seem to know what the other does before they even do it. And call it what you want, I think this is the perfect excuse.”

“Perfect excuse?”

“To see if something can actually happen between you two.”

“And why should it?”

“Because you’re in love with her.”

For some reason, that felt like a punch to the gut to Logan. 

“Look, bub, I know-”

“Logan, the way you look at her isn’t the way a friend looks at another friend. I’ve seen the way you look at her. We all have. From day one, that girl has been something else for you, and even if you don’t know it, the rest of us do. You’re in love with her. You always have been.”

“No, I’m-”

“You can’t deny it, Logan.” Scott told him. “Eventually something is going to snap and it might be too late. So, you’ve done the whole relationship a little backwards. So what? You’d only get divorced anyway if it doesn’t work out. But you need to do something about your feelings, Logan.”

Logan had to laugh. “I think I’d know if I was in love with someone.”

Scott sighed. Did he seriously have to paint Logan a fucking picture. 

“You make her coffee every day. You bring her lunch and sit with her every day. She is the first person you go to when you finally want to ask someone for help. And I know for a fact she is the first person you tell anything to. She knows more about you than anyone else in this building does, and that is down to you and everything you have shared with her. Anytime anyone looks in her direction, you aren’t too far behind her.”

“I saw you, that day, when the Mayor and his brother turned up at the school.” Scott continued. “The way his brother was looking her up and down…Logan you were by her side in less than ten seconds and we all saw the look you gave him. That man left the Professor’s office trembling. He also never looked in y/n’s direction again.”

“What’s your point?”

“That you were jealous, Logan. And that, for as much as you can and probably will try and deny it. You love her.”

The conversation lulled for a moment. 

“All I’m saying is at least think about it. We’ve all seen you together. Maybe it’s time you finally noticed yourself.”

Logan didn’t see you until the next day when he caught you folding laundry in your room. 

“Want some help?”

You turned around and saw him. “Sure. You can start with that pile.”

Logan entered your room, a little more awkward than usual, and started folding clothes. 

“How are you…how are you feeling?”

You shrugged. “Like normal, I guess. What about you?”

“Yeah, fine.”

IT was a slight struggle after that but conversation flowed a little easier eventually. 

That was something Logan always loved when it came to being around you. He wasn’t the biggest one for talking to people but with you, it was easy. Probably helped by the fact you could somehow change topics at lightning speed. 

Conversations with you were never, ever boring. 

Even when they were probably meant to be. 

And it wasn’t long before your fear surrounding being married…faded. 

Around a week later, a leak had sprung on one side of the school which meant having to bunk rooms for a while. Of course, all the kids went with their friends. 

But it also meant you had to bunk with someone too. 

“You can bunk with me.” Logan told you. 

You nodded. “Finally sharing a room. Wow, we’re really moving generations in this relationship.”

“After you, wife.”

This became a common theme, until the weight of the words settled down on both of you once more. 

A divorce lawyer had picked up your case. 

It would take a couple of weeks to get all the papers sorted, but yourself and Logan would be divorced by the middle of the following month. 

Like nothing had ever happened. 

Except, it just so happened, that was when something did happen. 

Scott and Storms’s words had been playing on Logan’s mind and yours. Not helped by the fact it wasn’t the last time someone held that kind of conversation with either of you. 

You found yourself in a similar conversation with Scott, whilst Logan had a similar conversation with Jean. 

And then the Professor approached you both, without the other one knowing. 

Except he hadn’t been to sit down and talk to you about it. He just made small comments in passing that left you both questioning more and more about your true feelings. 

And then Logan found you in the library one night. 

“Here you are. You didn’t come to bed so…what are you doing?”

Standing close to the top of the book ladder, you were scanning through different books with a flashlight.

“The main light is too big and the fire’s light doesn’t reach this far back.”

Logan blinked. “That…still didn’t answer my question.”

“I’ve got a new semester of lessons set out. I wanted to get a head start on finding the books needed.”

Logan looked around. “You got a list?”

You looked at him. “Logan, it’s past midnight. Go to bed.”

“That’s not what I asked. Where’s your list? I know you’ve got one.”

Sighing, you reached into your back pocket and held it out. He walked over and plucked it from your fingers. 

“There’s twenty six books on this list.”

“And I currently have three. If you still want to help, any that you find, just place them on the table behind the sofa.”

And so he did. 

By two in the morning, you’d both found twenty three books in total. Just three more left. 

“Is this the right edition?”

“Let me see.”

Logan walked over to where you were still standing on the ladder and handed it up to you. You flipped through a couple of the first pages as you slowly climbed backwards down the stairs. 

“Yeah, this is the right one. The last two should be on a lower shelf.”

As you finally reached the last few steps, you felt your foot slip and your knees crashed against the bars. Except, instead of falling backwards, or rolling with the ladder itself, Logan’s hands steadied you. 

“You alright?”

You took a second to breathe. Having your life flash before your eyes for a couple of seconds really knocks the wind out of you. 

“Yeah, yeah,” you laughed a little. “I’m fine.”

You turned in Logan’s arms and was met with his broad and solid chest as his hands held you at your waist. 

“Good,” Logan laughed a little, too. 

The sound of your life had always been like music to his ears. 

A comfort, even when the moment hadn’t been all that comfortable beforehand. 

And for that moment, time seemed to still. Any silence that had been in the room was slowly becoming defending, until your hearing focused on his breathing. The steady rise and fall of his chest and the quickening of your own heartbeat. 

The flashlight that you had held in your hands had rolled somewhere onto the floor when you slipped on the ladder. 

But you had never seen Logan so…clearly. 

You had known him for so long and had even spent nights and mornings in the same bed together. But for the first time, you were committing him to memory. Part of you felt like these moments would go, once the papers came through. That even if neither of you wanted it, something would inherently change between you both once the papers were signed and delivered. 

But something in that moment was changing too. 

Like how you were realising you never wanted to be away from him. That the best place on this earth was right where you were. In his arms, his eyes on you, and yours on him. 

You found yourself leaning in forward, almost as if, if you didn’t get closer to him, he might disappear. 

And he was doing the same. 

One of his hands came up to your face as he rubbed a couple of strands of your hair between his fingers before he slowly pushed it back and let his gaze wash over you. 

He was committing you to memory, too. 

His eyes locked on yours once more, just as his other hand trailed down your waist and to your hip. 

You fell closer to him. 

Or maybe he pulled you closer. 

Either way, you never wanted to be without his touch. 

What felt like an eternity later, you finally felt his lips against yours and yours against his. 

It started off slow. This was new territory for you both when it came to the other. It was slow, full of mixed feelings and…something else. 

Then it snapped. 

Logan pushed a little harder and you felt your legs hit the back of the book ladder just as his hand and arm snaked around and up your back, holding you flush against him as your own arms pulled him closer to you. 

Logan braced the hand that had been by your face, by the side of your head, holding onto the book ladder, keeping you both steady. 

And he felt your breath hitch as he stepped into you. 

Before you knew it, you were braced against one of the bars on the ladder as Logan’s lips went from yours, across your jaw and down the column of your neck. A small grunt escaped him as your own fingers scratched through the back of his hair and down the back of his neck. 

However, just as his lips returned to yours and his hands slipped under the hem of your t-shirt– his t-shirt, as your own started reaching for the hem of his…a clock went off. 

“W-w-w-w-w-wait. Wait. Stop.”

“Is everything okay?”

You swallowed. “Yes…no. I don’t know. We shouldn’t be doing this.”

Logan wanted to ask “Why? Why shouldn't we?”. But instead, lowered his head. He knew why. 

“You’re right…you’re right.”

Your own temple came to rest against his for a few moments, neither of you wishing to leave the moment just yet. 

“We should go…before someone comes in.”

“It’s two in the morning, who is going to come in?”

“I don’t want to leave.”

“Then don’t.”

You stayed quiet for a long time, feeling Logan’s fingers draw circles over your skin. Eventually, the only sound you heard was his heartbeat and his breath, slowly matching your own. 

But no matter how much of you told you to stay, you tried your best to fight it. 

You and Logan were friends. Friends who were about to get a divorce from a marriage neither of you could remember fully consenting to. 

“Goodnight, Logan.”

Reluctantly, you stepped out of his arms, his light grip on your hand not letting go until you were both too far apart to hold on any longer, and made your way through the school until you came across an empty room. 

It was the smaller quiet space that overlooked the back of the school. Perfect for the nights when too much noise was keeping you up at night. 

Except, it wasn’t noise keeping you awake. 

It was your own mind, relieving the one thing you thought you would never do with Logan. The one thing you wanted most to keep going. The one thing you would never forget. 

When Logan woke the next day, part of him thought it was all a dream. But even he couldn’t have dreamed up anything from the night before and have it still feel so real in the morning. 

Then he didn’t see you for three days. 

Save for one moment when he brought a box of your things from his room, to yours. You opened the door, wearing another one of his t-shirts. One that went missing months ago. One that he had seen on your at least a dozen times since. One that he felt he was truly seeing for the first time, on you. 

The exchange, coming from the both of you together, couldn’t have felt anything more than awkward. 

And then another moment hit. 

You didn’t close the door. 

He didn’t know what to say. 

All he knew was that he wished he was back with you, in the library. 

And you were wishing the same thing right back. 

“I should-”

“You should-”

A small, awkward laugh came from both of you before eventually you shut the door, wishing you had enough confidence to open it back up and call after him. 

Two days later, Logan hadn’t seen you at all. 

And a morning meeting, with Storm going to get you from your bed, led to Logan realising why he hadn’t seen you. 

“She’s not there?”

Logan turned immediately. “What?”

“Where is she?”

“I don’t know. She’s not in her room or any other place she usually is this early in the morning.”

“Doesn’t she have classes to teach?” Scott asked. 

“She doesn’t teach Wednesday and Thursday.” Logan told him. 

And it wasn’t long before Logan heard his name being called behind him by Xavier as he marched his way out of the office and to every room he could think you would be. 

You were nowhere to be found. It was almost like you hadn’t been there for weeks. The books you had taken out – the ones Logan had helped you find – were piled neatly in your bedroom. On your desk, you had a small wicker basket filled with letters and postcards, all arranged in date order, the newest ones being at the front. 

The pictures you had on your windowsill displayed all the people you loved the most. And included a picture from when you had ambushed him on his birthday. He rarely, if ever, took a photo. 

But he smiled, albeit a little awkwardly, with you. 

“Where could she have gone?”

Logan looked around your room. You wouldn’t have just gotten up and left for good. You loved teaching your kids too much, despite whatever else had happened. 

Then Logan saw the framed pictures on the wall, just across from your bed. 

“I’ll check with Cyerbro. She couldn’t have gone far.”

“She could be half way across the world by now!”

Logan shook his head. “But she’s not.”

A lot of them were confused, but Xavier watched Logan for a moment. 

“Do you know where she is?”

“I have an idea.”

With that, Logan reached for the wall and pulled down one of the smaller frames and carried it out with him.

“Hold on, I’m coming with you.” Storm called out to him. 

“You don’t even know where I’m going.”

“Logan, you look like you’re just about ready to punch a bull. I know, right now, even if you are the last person she wants to see, you are the first person she needs. But that also means I know what you’re going to do and, love you or not, Y/n wouldn’t want you to hurt someone or even yourself to find her.”

And Storm was right. 

And she was right to tag along. 

Because just five hours later, Logan had pulled up outside a local pharmacy. They had received a call on the way; they were heading in the right direction, but they needed to go into the town first. Any chance of finding where she was in the mountains lay where she had been all day. 

And it wasn’t long before Storm had to step in to stop Logan from almost killing the cashier. 

He had been dancing around the question, leading them all on different tangents of conversation about the town and the people in it before finally he got to his answer.

The cashier nodded. “I don’t know where she lives, but Connie might. She knows everything in the town.”

“Where is Connie?”

The cashier pointed out of the door. “In the bakery, across the street.”

“Thank you,” Logan told him, swiping the picture back up from the counter and walking outside. Storm stopped short behind Logan when she saw he wasn’t moving off the sidewalk. 

Then she saw. 

You had just left the building and climbed inside your beaten up, old Jeep Wrangler. You pulled out of your parking spot and drove off down the street. 

And Logan followed. 

However, halfway up the road, he started to recognise the place. He’d been here before, except he was going up the way he would come down and out of the cabin. 

So, he took a turn. 

He was at your cabin ten minutes before you were. Storm had stayed behind in the town to call the others and let them know what was going on. 

“You fixed her up well.”

You jumped at his voice and threw a can of pumpkin puree at his head. Though he managed to catch it before his head made a dent in the can. 

“Jesus, Logan.” Then you realised. “How did you find me?”

“You forget that I know you. The pictures on your wall. They’re a lot more recent.”

You didn’t know what else to say so you turned back to your front door and pushed it open, Logan hurrying after you. 

“Why did you leave?” He called out, placing the can on the side. 

“I didn’t leave.” You called back as you unpacked some of your groceries. 

“You disappeared into thin air but you weren’t abducted. I’d call that leaving.”

“I needed a break, Logan. I needed…time.”

“Time from what?”

“From everything. From you, from marriage, from the school, from the library. It’s like I woke up one morning and, quite literally, everything had changed. One day we were- we were teachers and friends…we were us, Logan. And then…we kissed and…I don’t know what we’re meant to do, Logan.” You dropped your head as you pressed your palms onto the kitchen counter.

“Maybe we’re meant to do nothing.” Logan walked towards you. “Maybe we keep things as they are.”

“What? Single and married?”

Logan shook his head, bringing his hand to pull yours to look at him. 

“Married and together.”

Your lips parted for a moment, your eyes scanning his face, waiting for the joke to have its punchline. 

“So, we did everything a little backwards?” Logan shrugged. “So what.”

“Logan…”

“I love you, y/n.” Logan told you, nothing but seriousness and truth in his eyes. “And I think you love me, too. But you’re scared. And so am I. Do you love me, y/n?”

You were trying your hardest to keep your emotions inside you, but something was failing. “Of course I do.”

“Then we start here, just you and me.”

“If something goes wrong, I can’t lose you. You mean too much to me, Logan.”

Logan smirked. “Good job I can regenerate.”

You scoffed and hit him in the shoulder. “You know what I mean.”

Logan nodded, a faint smile on his face. “I know. You’re not going to lose me, Y/n. You couldn’t ever.”

“Promise me.”

Logan nodded. “I promise. Can I kiss you now?”

Logan didn’t have time to finish his question before your lips met his in a searing kiss, your hands pulling him closer to you whilst his own arms wrapped around you. 

Maybe you had done the whole relationship thing backwards, but that didn’t matter. Not anymore.

Not when you finally had each other for life. 

[neverendingford]

.

[hazelira]

love in the details

Jake stirred awake, his eyes blinking open to the soft light filtering through the curtains. He instinctively turned his head to check on the baby and froze. She was lying on her stomach, her tiny face smushed into the mattress, her little body sprawled out in an uncoordinated but somehow adorable position. Her hair was sticking out in all directions, a wild mess from her restless movements in her sleep.

A pang of worry shot through him, his instincts kicking in immediately. “Hey, little one,” he murmured softly as he sat up, careful not to startle her. Gently, he reached over and adjusted her position, turning her onto her side and making sure her face was no longer pressed into the mattress. The last thing he wanted was for her to have trouble breathing.

“There we go,” he said quietly, his voice low and soothing as he ran a hand over her messy hair in an attempt to smooth it down. She stirred slightly but didn’t wake, her tiny lips parting as she let out a soft sigh. Jake felt his chest tighten at the sight—how could someone so small, so fragile, have such a hold on him?

As his gaze shifted downward, he noticed her socks were slipping off her pudgy little feet, one barely clinging to her toes while the other was halfway off. He shook his head with a faint smile, leaning down to adjust them. “You’re a little troublemaker even when you’re sleeping, huh?” he muttered under his breath, carefully pulling the socks back into place.

Once he was satisfied that she was safe and comfortable, Jake sat back for a moment, his gaze lingering on her. The wild mess of her hair, the way her chubby hands clutched at the blanket beneath her—it was all so chaotic and yet so endearing. He couldn’t help the small chuckle that escaped him, the sound soft and warm in the quiet room.

He glanced around and realized you weren’t in bed. Your side of the mattress was empty, but you’d strategically placed pillows around the baby, creating a makeshift barrier to keep her from rolling off. It was thoughtful, something he should’ve thought to do himself, and he felt a flicker of guilt at how much you always carried the weight of caring for her, even when you were exhausted.

The faint sound of movement downstairs caught his attention, and he realized you must’ve gone to make breakfast. For a moment, he debated staying in bed to watch over the baby, but the thought of you downstairs alone made him hesitate. You were still recovering from the fever, and he didn’t like the idea of you pushing yourself too hard.

Standing carefully so as not to disturb the baby, Jake pulled the blanket higher over her small frame, making sure she was snug and warm. He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, the action instinctive and full of affection.

“You stay put, alright? No more wild sleeping positions,” he murmured softly, as if she could understand. He straightened and took one last look at her before heading toward the door, his footsteps quiet as he made his way downstairs.

The scent of breakfast greeted him as he descended, and he found you in the kitchen, standing at the stove with your back to him. You were moving slowly, clearly still not at full strength, but there was a determined set to your shoulders as you flipped something in the pan.

Jake paused for a moment, taking in the scene. You were wearing one of his oversized shirts, your hair tied back in a loose bun, and even though you looked tired, there was a calmness about you that made something in his chest ache.

“Why didn’t you wake me?” he asked, his voice soft as he stepped into the kitchen.

You turned, surprised to see him, and offered a small smile. “You looked like you needed the rest. She kept you up for a while, didn’t she?”

Jake shrugged, leaning against the counter as he watched you. “I don’t mind. She’s... persistent, but I think I’m getting used to it.” He paused, his gaze softening as it lingered on you. “You should’ve stayed in bed. You’re still recovering.”

“I’m fine,” you replied, though your voice lacked conviction. You turned back to the stove, but Jake was already moving.

“Go sit,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. Before you could protest, he gently took the spatula from your hand and nudged you toward the table. “I’ll finish this. You need to rest.”

You hesitated, but the look in his eyes—firm yet full of concern—made you relent. With a quiet sigh, you took a seat, watching as Jake effortlessly took over. It was a small gesture, but it spoke volumes. For a man who was often cold and distant, moments like this reminded you that there was more to him beneath the surface.

As he worked, Jake glanced over his shoulder at you. “She’s still sleeping,” he said, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “But her hair’s a disaster. I think she might’ve inherited that from you.”

You rolled your eyes, but the playful comment made you smile despite yourself. “Maybe she got it from you, Mr. Perfect.”

Jake chuckled softly, the sound light and unguarded. For a moment, the tension between you seemed to melt away, replaced by a quiet, shared understanding. It wasn’t perfect, but it was enough.

my perm taglist<3 <- request here

@seonhoon @dollrincess @ethanatvre @rei4sunoo @shxhdsstuff @jakeflvrz @laylasbunbunny @jiiyen @saphiranishimurashan @lovelycassy @starry-eyed-bimbo @babyboomysweetie @24svnn @pinkglitterpuke @mellowgalaxystrawberry @heavenki

[darkspace7]

Confession: Sometimes I take people’s plastic water bottles when they’re not looking and refill them (never all the way though, just enough to slip under the owner’s radar) with tap water.

That way, when they take a swig I get the satisfaction of knowing not only can they not tell the difference between tap and bottled water but the fact they get a little bit of extra hydration to get them through the day.

[miley1442111]

clingy- a.hotchner

-----------------------

-----------------------

summary: aaron acts quite differently with his wife around, which causes eyebrowns to raise and feelings to start getting hurt.

pairing: aaron hotchner x wife! reader

warnings: mildly suggestive, negative self-talk

-----------------------

You rushed around the corner, only to be met with your brick wall of a husband, Aaron Hotchner. 

“Careful there, sweetheart,” he smiled, his hands circling your waist and holding you to him. 

“Aaron I need to-” you huffed but he cut you off with a quick kiss. 

“You don’t need to do anything,” his hands ventured lower, until he was fully squeezing your ass. 

“Your team will be here any minute,” you sighed. The team had never met you, one of Aaron’s non-negotiables when you two got married, but nothing a year of married bliss and a lot of bribing him with sex couldn’t fix. 

“And everything is ready,” he smiled. “Stop worrying so much.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, well that’s helpful, thank you so much Sherlock Holmes,” you responded sarcastically and Aaron’s smile turned into a full-on smirk. 

“I love you too.”

You wriggled out of his arms with great effort, and a lot of elbowing him, then it was back to your frantic cooking and cleaning. 

-----------------------

The team was in shock. They knew that newly-wed SSA Aaron Hotchner was a lot more laid back then before, but when he was with you? All bets were off. His hands stayed firmly on you at all times,  much like his attention. You were clearly used to it, but to the team, your frequent flirty banter was bizarre. How could Aaron Hotchner be this… relaxed?

-----------------------

You noticed the weird look halfway through the dinner, and kicked Aaron under the table as a way to ask him if he would tune it down. He obliged, albeit confused, and kept his hands to himself for the rest of the night, much to his own dismay. 

Throughout the night, everytime someone made a look or whispered to each other, a sense of dread grew in your stomach. By the end of the night, it got so bad that you just left the room altogether and did the dishes instead. You had a dishwasher, there was no point in hand washing the dishes, but you had to get away from their prying eyes. 

They think you’re weird. They hate that you and Aaron are together. They think he can do so much better. 

Your thoughts were cut off by a hand on the small of your back. 

“Are you alright?” Aaron asked, pressing a kiss to your temple. Usually, his touch would ground you, but tonight it felt like a fire on your skin, one you wanted to put out. You quickly stepped out of his grasp and nodded. 

“Yeah, fine, just tired.”

“Well, people are heading out now, they wanted to thank you.”

“Sounds good,” you mustered up a half-assed smile and followed behind him as the team slowly filtered out of your house in a flurry of ‘thank yous’, ‘see you soons’ and ‘it was delicious’. 

-----------------------

You spent the rest of the night slightly avoiding Aaron’s touch. When you both sat down to watch a film, you decided it would be the best time to paint your nails, meaning Aaron should obviously sit on the opposite side of the couch, right? He did so without question, but not without a quizzical look. Next it was the bathroom, you sat on the closed toilet, brushing your teeth as Aaron stood in front of the mirror, his eye trained on you. 

Now Aaron was getting worried. Had he done something to annoy you? But then you’d surely talk to him, right? You’d never been one to not communicate, so he was left feeling completely bewildered by the predicament. 

-----------------------

In bed, he tried to wrap his arms around you, but you brushed him off, saying you were too warm.

“Did I do something?” He asked, turning back on his bedside lamp. 

“No,” you answered, your back still to him.

“Then why won’t you let me touch you?” he asked, rather blatantly. 

You rolled around to look at him, and immediately regretted it. This was so silly. You were getting upset about what a bunch of strangers (to you at least) thought about you and Aaron’s relationship. Fuck them. You started to laugh, embarrassment kicking in as you hid your face in the crook of his neck. He held you there, chuckling softly as he enjoyed the closeness of you after not being close for the past few hours. One thing you hadn’t expected from Aaron is that he was clingy. 

“It’s so dumb,” you giggled. “So you can’t laugh.”

“I won’t,” he smiled and you mustered up your best stern look. “I promise!”

“I was overthinking about what your team thinks of how much we touch each other,” you admitted. Aaron burst out laughing. You playfully hit him on the arm, but started laughing with him.

“That is dumb,” he chuckled.

“Hey!” You scolded, hitting him on the arm again. “That’s-”

“Do you want to know what they said when you were out of the room?” He offered and your interest was piqued. He pulled your hips and sat you on his lap, straddling him as he began to speak again. 

“They said that you were the nicest,” KISS. “Most lovely,”KISS.  “Most beautiful,”KISS. “Woman on the planet,” KISS. “And they could see how happy you make me.”

Your heart swelled. “So… they liked me then?”

Aaron laughed again. “They liked you a lot. Just like I do.”

-----------------------

criminal minds masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, obx, the bear, marvel, top gun, the hunger games :)

[porcalinecunt]

boothill punishing reader for calling him ‘just a fucktoy’ so he turns them into one :3

𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐀 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐘!

🪽 ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ friendly banter often devolved into mean spirited teasing, but there’s a fine line that you regretfully cross. Or did you?

·˚ ◌༘͙[featuring] ! ˊ 𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐗 𝐆𝐍!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

cw — mean dom! boothill. window sex. degradation. overstimulation. humiliation kink. biting. dumbification(?)

◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ author’s note! : ignore the fact that i forgot boothill cannot curse SHHHHH. but it’s finally done and im too tired to proofread this ;-;

friendly banter was a given in your relationship with boothill. you couldn’t help yourself to the free entertainment as the cyborg was forced to get creative with the troublesome filtering system that was installed in his mechanical body, much to his annoyance. 

every swear word he spat out, every nasty phrase that’d slip off his tongue would become the polor opposite. it’d make you chuckle a bit hearing him call you the sweetest names with reluctance in his voice. 

you on the other hand, often have a whole field day with it. spewing out sarcastic and maybe creative remarks just to rile him up even more, only to burst out laughing at his failed comebacks. it was a constant spit for spat that would last until one of you gave up and ended it with a soft make out session or cuddling in your shared bedroom. however, there’s an invisible line in the sand, one you wished you could’ve seen. 

another back and forth, like usual. as the more aggressive you got with boothill, so does your language. you teetered on the edge of your own teeth, slowing coming at his little fuck up’s like his heavily filtered system and his obnoxious munching of his own bullets. the ranger would shoot back with his own attempts, only passing off sarcastic and subtle remarks about that mouth of yours. the tension in the air only grew thicker and thicker before your words finally cut it in two. 

“I dunno why you should be talkin’ bootie, after all, you're just a fucktoy! ♡”

a cackle bursted from your lungs, as you tried to catch your breath. while you were stuck in a state of victory from having the last laugh, you didn’t quite catch the sudden silence that washed over the room until a chill shot at the back of your neck. turning your head, you were met with an unamused boothill, jaw clenched and eyes burning holes into your skull. your laugh diminished into tiny nervous sounds as the machine promptly marched his way to you, ignoring your babbles and apologies as your back pressed against the wall. you understood quickly that despite the unhinged nature of your verbal play fights, there’s a line that shouldn’t be crossed. 

a raspy chuckle tickled your eardrums. “me? a fucktoy? now look who’s talkin’ sweet thing..” 

boothill, now wearing a hungry grin on his lips, promptly threw you over his shoulder with a harsh smack! on your ass. before you could protest, you were chucked onto the nearest soft furniture he saw, in this case being the couch. 

the window in front of it showing off a dazzling view of Penacony, the perfect place to show you off. it didn’t take long for your clothes to be torn clean off by his metal fingers and discarded on the floor while you whined loudly. something that warranted a palm over your pouty lips. 

“shh, now now doll..i don’t think fucktoys can speak. Now can they?” 

he spoke with faux sympathy traced in his tone, as you could only lie there helplessly while his cold hands traced your delicate flesh. boothill was an unpredictable man, some nights he takes it easy while the others have his more cynical nature leak through, tonight being the latter. you screwed your eyes shut once pleasure crawled through your skin, the ranger prying and poking at every sensitive corner of your body. from his ice cold fingers pinching your hard nipples, to his shark-like teeth nipping at your neck. 

“a-sll this..over an insul–” 

“shut it.” 

you flinched, unable to prepare yourself for what the machine had in store for you. you nearly forgot how hard he can be, until you felt something poking at your thighs. 

seven rounds, and he had yet to stop.

your jaw went slack so long ago, nothing but incoherent words and pleading coming out of your fucked out mouth. the taste of his spit lingered on your tongue which rolled out and is now pressed against the glass with the rest of your naked body.

“Ah..! B-Boothill! T-They’ll see uh—us!”

you whimpered, unable to string two words together without a sharp thrust ripping another sound out of your throat. through blurred vision, you could see Golden Hour in all its glory, praying that nobody spots your ilicit act with the ranger. your knees buckled, already weak from how long you’ve been standing without a break as boothill snapped his hips against yours while his teeth sunk into your shoulder for what seemed like the upteenth time.

“you think i give a crap doll? now keep that pretty mouth shut like i asked.”

he hissed in your ear, squeezing the plush of your thighs that were littered with teeth marks. you mewled, feeling the knot in your stomach snapping once again and throwing you into another intense orgasm. your hand curled up into a tight fist, almost banging itself against the foggy glass as stars filled your vision. a raspy chuckle was all you could hear, courtesy of an insatiable and spiteful boothill. he watched as you lost balance and fell onto his metal chest, breathing heavily between sobs.

“awee..~ tired already, doll?”

he cooed, you just wanted to sock his stupid smirk off his face. instead, you pouted, letting out an annoyed whine as you squirmed from his cock simply sitting inside you without moving an inch.

“maybe watch that tongue next time, hon’. then i’ll go easy on ya.”

he laughs, before pressing your limp body against the messy glass again and snapping his hips against yours with his relentless pace. feeling your brain melting from the overwhelming amount of cock he’s stuffing into you, you could only hang on for dear life as boothill made you eat your own words.

quite literally too.

© porcalinecunt 🪽ᯓᡣ𐭩ྀི do not steal, translate, or use my work and claim as your own.

[missadangel]

The Heart of Rome (Marcus Acacius x OC)

All Chapters List

XIII. The Missing (+18, Smut, MDNI)

I made this picture on psd lol lemme know if you liked it :)

“Amor gignit amorem.”

Love begets love.

Blood. All you could see was blood. It was all over the place. The mountains, the trees, the rocks, even the waterfall cascading ahead – everything was bathed in a crimson hue, covered in blood. The smell of blood filled the air as if it had obliterated all other odors. You tried to run away from this ominous place, but you realized that your feet were stuck in red mud like a swamp. The more you moved, the deeper you sank. You screamed for help, but no one heard, no one came. When you were up to your neck in the mud, you gasped for breath and screamed for the last time before the red mud swallowed you.

“Aurelia?”

The voice you knew so well echoed in your ears and then around you. The voice made mud disperse, allowing you to resume breathing.

"Aurelia?" He called out again, and you opened your eyes.

Marcus's face, beautiful in its own way, was right before you. Once you realized that he was looking at you with his brown eyes, the effect of the nightmare you had seen turned to dust and scattered around and disappeared. Marcus pressed his fingers on your forehead. Were you sweating?

“My love? Are you alright?”

“I am. I think I had a nightmare.”

“I think so too.” He sounded a bit concerned. "Would you like to tell me?"

You shook your head, looking away. Marcus exhaled deeply. "Aurelia, my love, I want you to forget the story I shared about the first man I killed. It's not the same as what you did. You were simply protecting yourself. You didn't have a choice and you did the right thing. However, the man I killed, he was innocent. I was following orders, but that's no excuse. You do understand what I'm saying, do you not?”

He propped himself up on his elbow to get a better look at your face, cupping your chin and turning your face to his. He was dressed in a cream tunic, the moonlight filtering gently through the window behind him and falling on his shoulders and hair.

“I understand and I appreciate that, but it doesn't change the fact that I killed someone."

He took your hand, brought it to his lips, and kissed the top of it. “I'm glad you did it. You saved me and you. Or should I say all three of us?” He put his hand on your belly.

You smiled; it was a relief to hear him saying that.

You were momentarily taken aback to realize you were still in your room in Domus Severiana. When did you arrive? Did you sleep until nightfall? Your memory was hazy. The last thing you remember is killing someone and becoming a murderer.

"What are you thinking about now?" he asked, looking at you. His hair was bathed in the blue moonlight, however you were focused on the cut on his cheek.

“Why are we here?”

"You mean, you don't remember?"

You shook your head.

"Hmm, after... Well, we arrived here. You were a bit tired and looked like you needed a bath, we both were." He smirked.

Right, you both looked pretty clean compared to what you recalled from the last time. That's when you suddenly remembered how he'd undressed you and put you in the bath tube, how he cleaned you up until your body was free of blood and dirt. Then how he carefully dried you, carried you to your room and put you to bed. And how he stayed with you until you fell asleep. But that was it – you didn't remember anything else. So he probably had his own bath afterward. You felt annoyed with yourself for not being able to help him with his bathing and dressing.

“I remember now,” you murmured.

“Are you sure you are alright?” His hand stroked your belly. He was asking about both of you.

You put your hand on his and smiled. “Your son must be as much of a fighter as you are. He's still holding on tight.”

He smiled and kissed you on the belly. “For a moment, I thought I'd lost you two. It was far worse than any kind of torture.”

You put your arms around his neck. "You saved me, you came back to me, and I'm truly grateful for that."

"You saved me too, don't forget that princess. I'm proud of you for using your knife effectually."

You tensed up a little as you remembered that moment. Marcus noticed it straight away and kissed your temple. "There's no need to feel guilty about that. I know it won't be easy, but I'm confident you'll get through this. Do you wish me to tell you how I know?"

You nodded.

"Because you're my Aurelia. You're strong enough to overcome anything, yet you're tender enough to think of everyone you care about."

He pressed his lips to yours. You realised how much you missed his kiss, his voice, his smell, his touch, his sweet words, everything. When he pulled back, you felt your heart ached.

"Why don't you try to get some more sleep? You must be feeling tired." He covered you with the sheet, turned towards you and cuddled up to you, putting his arm around you. You turned your head and noticed that his eyes were closed. You pursed your lips. You weren't tired, you just needed him. However, he must have been quite tired, so you closed your eyes and tried to sleep. But it didn't work. Your body was already burning up. The sweet masculine smell of his skin made things even more difficult. You felt your throat go dry. So you turned towards him. But this caused your breasts to brush against his arm. He opened his eyes and pulled his arm back. You felt your face flush, and you turned the other way. You smiled to yourself, pleased that you'd managed to seduce him without meaning to.

“Aurelia, that's worse.” He whispered.

You soon figured out what he was talking about. You could feel him growing just behind your hips.

"Apologies." You murmured. You moved yourself on the bed a little, trying to break the physical connection between you. But his strong arm grabbed you and pulled you towards him almost roughly. Your back hits his chest. You could hear him breathing heavily, his hot breath hitting your cheek. You giggled mischievously.

"You only had to ask," he said huskily. You gasped as you felt his lips on your neck.

"I thought you wouldn't want to, seeing as you're tired.”

He turned you towards him, in a fairly forceful manner, “Do you really think that's possible my lady?” He shook his head slightly. “I don't think so.” His lips almost touching yours, you've been craving a kiss from him. “Not when I've been thinking about you all the time, not when I've been looking forward to this moment badly.” And then finally he kissed you passionately. Gods! You’d really missed his kiss. It wasn't just him who'd been looking forward to this moment.

His hands, eager as usual, grabbed the end of your tunic and slid it up your legs, helping you out of it. You smiled when you felt his hands on your exposed skin. You bit your lower lip as his lips replaced his hands. You were getting impatient; your body was burning, as if on fire, and your breathing had turned into hot steam. As he planted kisses on your knees before spreading them, you resisted him, trying to make it fun.

He snickered. "Why are you hiding from me what is already mine? Wish to play?" He lifted your legs against your stomach with his strong hands. You were taken by surprise and felt out of breath. He ran his fingers and then his lips over it, from heel to thigh, as if memorizing it, first one leg and then the other. He was careful not to leave any part of your skin untouched, but he did it so slowly that you were sure you were dripping wet by now. It might have been romantic or seductive at first, but it was getting to be too much and your patience was running out. It was good when he was gentle, but it was better when he was rough. He must have heard your inner voice, grabbed you by the legs, pulling you hard against him. You held your breath as he lifted your legs, placed them on his shoulders, and buried his head between them. Fortunately, he was no longer gentle when he used his tongue to enter you and give you unbelievable pleasure. You clenched the sheet as he licked and sucked your most sensitive spot mercilessly like a starving man. He continued his pattern, teased you until you thought you might go mad, breaking it occasionally to suck at your sweet spot or nibble at the folds of you. Meanwhile, he ventured his tongue within you, each time probing a little deeper, until finally he slid as much of it into you as he could and you could not help but cry out at the feeling of it swirling inside of you. Soon, the moans he’s coaxing out of you are only got louder and louder and you lifted your hips up to meet his mouth, your toes curling. Marcus squeezed your hips and increased the pressure of his mouth, tongue, and lips, taking you to the very top of the sky as your loud moans filled every cavity of the large room. Your vision was blurred, your heart racing.

It’s at this moment that he pulled back completely, leaving only the warm air touching you, and you let out a mortifying groan which turned into mewling. Marcus laughed at you and you opened your eyes to see his mouth and chin are covered with your wetness. He kissed you deeply, pushing what he could of it between your lips with his tongue. "You're the most delicious thing I've ever tasted," he whispered into your mouth. "A splendid dessert just for me to taste." You licked his bottom lip, tasting yourself, realizing that he was right. He kissed you again and this time with more passion quickly turning into a feverish lust.

You reached out to touch his tunic, but his consuming kiss was so intense that you failed. He smiled, his warm breath touching your cheek. Then he smirked, spread his arms wide and told you to undress him without speaking. Giggling, you got up on your knees and did as he said, running your hands over his shoulders after throwing his tunic gods-know-where. You frowned as you noticed the new scars on his body, he watched you patiently as your fingers travelled over each one. He put a finger in your temple, then over your eyebrows as if to smooth out your frown and slid it through your hair, running it through it as if combing it.

"You're the only one who can heal,” he murmured. Then he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you towards him. He held you tight, making sure there was no gap between you. You smiled as you realised he was getting impatient between your inner thighs. His glorious length was caressing your entrance and your body already squirming to be his. Thinking he was going to lay you back down, instead, he grabbed your hips and fell backward, pulling you on top of him. Now you were sitting on him, you looked down at him in surprise, and he grinned.

He licked his lips. “Ride me.”

Biting your lower lip with excitement, you placed your hands on his chest, rotated your hips and settled on top of him, slowly taking his length into you. He gripped your hips and guided you into the right position. When you felt him deep inside you let out a moan of pleasure and leaned into him. Your hair was falling in his face, and you teased him with it by shaking your head covering his face completely with your hair. He smirked and gathered your hair and put it over one shoulder as you rode him in slow movements. Then he started to speed up his thrusts by moving his groin. You were completely like impaled on him and it felt like absolute bliss and you never wanted this feeling to end. You leaned in to kiss him feeling the overwhelming pleasure was pushing you dangerously close to the edge. He was grasping and kneading your breasts in a strong and possessive way with both of his big hands as he kissed you passionately and rubbed his thumbs over your nipples. He grabbed your hips in a bruising grip and squeezes as he thrusts into you so hard and powerfully that you scream out loud in shock, like he's some kind of beast and he's almost making you beg desperately for more. He moaned and growled through clenched teeth as he marked you and claimed you and made you his. Your heart was beating so fast that you felt like it was going to burst. You pressed your lips together to suppress your upcoming scream but failed. Everyone in the palace would hear your moans and know what you were doing, but it didn't matter right now.

Marcus hit your sweet spot with each glorious thrust and soon you began to feel your soul leaving your body and your surroundings became hazy and blurry and white lights began to appear, you cried out as the most intense emotion erupted from every nerve in your body and you felt you were flying, weightless and free, the feeling of pure pleasure racing through every part of you. His moans and grunts became muffled as the pleasure overtook you. He pulled you hard against his chest and wrapped his arms tightly around you and you felt him fill you up with his hot liquid, his thrusts stuttering. You were resting your head on his chest while he buried his face in your hair. You stayed like that for a while until your breathing calmed down. Marcus loosened his grip around your body and you felt his lips on the top of your head as his hands travelled slowly down your back. You could hear the sound of his heart thudding against his chest, it soon settled and you felt him soften inside you. He grabbed you round the waist and slid you onto the bed and you snuggled into him. He lifted the sheet and covered both of you, wrapping one arm around you and thus ensuring your usual ritual of falling asleep peacefully.

The morning sun was filtering through your eyelashes, casting a yellow light over your face as you blinked sleepily. Opening your eyes, the first thing you saw was Marcus' beard, his chin, and his lips. Those wonderful lips you couldn't get enough of kissing. His eyes were still closed, his sweet breath caressing your forehead as you watched him sleeping. He was so incredible, so beautiful. You felt a little upset when you saw the new scar on his cheek though, but it wouldn't prevent the perfection of his face. It made you love him even more. It was impossible to describe how much you love him, but "eternity" was probably the closest description.

Just yesterday you hated this big room, but now that he was lying next to you, in your bed, the room didn't seem so bad to you anymore. With his presence, the room had become a safer, more beautiful, and more significant place. After a few moments, you found yourself drawn to his face once more and felt the urge to kiss him. You softly pressed your lips to his. You then pulled back and saw his lips curled into a smile, opening his eyes. His brown eyes were as dark and expressive at night as they were buttery and warm in the morning. They were enough to blow your mind every time.

"Morning," you said softly.

"What a lovely morning this is," he said with a smile, running his hand through your hair.

"It certainly is," you smiled back.

He leaned over and kissed you. His kiss was gentle and passionate. But you were ready for him to kiss you deeper. He slowed his kiss but you tightened your arm around his neck. He laughed between his lips and pulled back, you frowned. He laughed even more at your reaction.

“My lady, I love it when you're eager, but don't you think you should get a little more rest?”

You blushed, batting your eyelashes. "I've really missed you."

“Same here,” he said, placing his hand on your belly and stroking it softly. "Is it alright for the child if we make love this often?"

"He's fine, I'd know if there was anything wrong." You replied. You then grasped his hand, placing it on your thigh. "I need you, Marcus, please."

He smirked. "I think I've raised my wife to be as lustful as I am." He chuckled.

You giggled naughtily. He kissed you roughly this time. Your heart began to beat with excitement. He squeezed your thighs and pulled you closer to him. Since you were already naked, the process didn't take long and he quickly lifted the sheet covering your body and settled on top of you. You had already spread your legs for him. His lips moved to your neck, collarbone and sternum, sucking and licking as he made his way down your body. As you ran your fingers through his hair, you felt him get harder at your entrance. He grabbed your hips again with one hand and entered you easily giving you incredible pleasure. His other hand travelled over every possible part of your flesh. You held your breath as he ran his hot tongue over your breasts. You wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him deeper into you, and he let out a loud moan.

"So needy," he said, his voice low and husky, his breath hot on your nipples. He kept nibbling on your breasts, sucking them with a growing appetite. As you began to feel like you were almost losing your mind, his lips met yours again and turned into a hungry, thirsty kiss. His thrusts fastened and you let out little moans of sweet pleasure as you dug your fingers into his flesh. He broke the kiss to push a few strands of hair away from your face. His intense gaze held yours captive while making you his. Soon he wrapped his hands around you and buried his head into your collarbone. His thrusts deepened, and he increased the pace at an incredible speed. Your back instinctively arched, but his grip was so tight that it was impossible to move. Your loud moans filled the room, and the satisfying sound of your bodies slapping together echoed in.

You screamed his name over and over, he let out a great roar and reached his climax at the same time as you. His lips sucked and nibbled your chin as he slowing his thrusts. You closed your eyes tight, bit your lip hard, curled your toes as you savoured the last moments of the amazing pleasure you were feeling. He released his grip on you and kissed the areas of your skin that had become reddened with great tenderness. You were still breathing heavily and had your eyes closed. Marcus placed his hand between your breasts and was surprised to feel your heart beating fast under his palm.

“My love, are you alright?”

You inhaled slowly and deeply through your nose and then exhaled. “My breathing... has become... much quicker now... It takes me a bit longer to settle.” You panted.

He gave you a kiss on the forehead and pulled out of you, wrapping his arms around you to embrace you close to his chest.

"I should have been more gentle with you," he said, running his fingers through your hair. "I couldn't control myself. Forgive me."

Your throat felt a little dry, so you took a moment to wet it and swallow. "There's nothing to forgive, my love, you are wonderful."

A faint smile appeared on his face.

Suddenly there was the sound of drums, which startled you. Marcus sighed. It would seem that this was an announcement of Caracalla's passing and details of the funeral arrangements. 

“I am the one who killed him,” Marcus said, looking you in the eye.

You nodded. "You did the right thing. I was almost losing you because of him. He tried to take everything from us."

"In a way, he kind of succeeded."

"How do you mean?"

"Villa," he muttered. You felt your chest tighten. Marcus stroked your cheek. "Cato said it was plundered and the slaves were taken which means they must be detained."

"Where could they be?"

"I have a few guesses. We'll find them, but first I must find Geta. Before the funeral-"

"How do you mean you have to find him? Is he missing?" Your voice was louder than you wanted it to be.

"Yesterday, I had entrusted three of my men to protect him. They arrived in the evening. They were certain it was Macrinus. They said: His men intercepted Geta's carriage and attempted to kill him. There was a skirmish between them and one of my men took him into the alleys to protect him, and probably died while doing it so. However, nobody saw Geta die. He is nowhere to be seen though.”

"Gods! Where could he be?”

"That's what I need to find out," he said, kissing the top of your head and getting out of bed. He then put on his tunic. "There may be some concern if the people don't see him at Caracalla's funeral, and if Macrinus is able to convince the senate, which is a possibility. He would then proclaim himself emperor." He turned to look at your concerned face. He sat on the bed, stroking your cheek. You let out a soft moan when you felt pain where he pressed his thumb. Your face was probably bruised where Flavius had hit you before. His eyes were filled with anger. "I should have chopped that bastard's hands and body into pieces." He hissed.

“I'll be alright. You simply find my brother, please."

“I will, I have to.” He was stroking your bruise carefully. “I know you care about him.”

You measured his gaze, “He's my brother, and it seems he's the only one left.”

“I’m aware, but the thing is, I’m not sure if he sees you as his sister.” His gaze had changed. Could it be jealousy?

“Marcus," you objected.

“It's tough for me, sharing you with someone else, even if he's your brother. As if that wasn't enough, there's a man's look in the way he looks at you, which is really frustrating for me.” His voice was sharp.

You took his hand and looked him in the eye. "Marcus, I love you and I am yours. Nothing or no one could ever change that, never."

"I know that my love. If he is still breathing, that is the reason.”

You exhaled, and he gave a faint smile in return. "Anyway, my lady. I must take my leave now." He kissed your cheek and stood up.

"Where's your armour?" you asked, standing up after him.

"It needed to be clean, the slaves were looking after it." He said, holding the door handle, he then eyed you up and down. "What are you doing?"

You looked at your stola in your hand, trying to understand his question. "I am getting dressed to come with you." You replied.

"No, Aurelia, you are not coming with me. I want you to stay in the room and rest," he said in a commanding tone.

You put on your tunic in a somewhat stubborn manner. "Please don't ask me to stay in the room. I was locked in here for days, as I'm sure you're aware."

"If you're going to be safe, it's better that way," he said firmly.

You laughed hysterically while you were wearing your stola. "Forgive me, General, but there is no way I am staying in this room in your absence."

Marcus sighed deeply. "Why are you so stubborn?”

"Please, at least let me go downstairs. The slave girl saved my life yesterday, I really must go and see her."

While you were putting on one of your sandals, you noticed he had fallen silent. He then stepped towards you and bent down in front of you. He was tying the laces of your sandal. "I am truly sorry, my lady," he murmured. You touched his shoulder to stop him.

"Or the girl..." The words got stuck in your throat.

Marcus paused then quickly tied the other sandal laces and sat down beside you, wrapping his arms around you. You couldn't stop the tears, resting your head on his shoulder.

"Many lost their lives, including my soldiers. They were like brothers to me and I lost them. All because of Flavius and Caracalla. I take some solace in the fact that they are no longer alive. Macrinus is next," he said in a stern tone.

"Marcus, what about our family? I can't lose them too."

"We won't. I'll look for them once I find Geta. I'll find them, I promise."

"Let me come with you, please."

He frowned. "Aurelia." His tone indicated that the matter was not up for discussion.

You twisted your lips. "Then don't prevent me from leaving this room." You touched his arm. "Besides, this wound doesn't look good, I should make a herbal mixture. It could get infected.”

"Alright then, but I'm leaving Cato here to look after you. I don't trust anyone else. Not with Macrinus still out there."

You smiled. “Understood, General.”

He smirked, kissed your cheek, and held out his hand to you. "My lady.”

As you walked into the courtyard, you saw Octavius and two other soldiers.  They noticed you and nodded.

"Tell me where Cato is at once." Marcus said to Octavius.

"He's resting, sir. His wound seems deep."

You touched Marcus' arm. "Let me examine his wound," you demanded.

"I believe the palace medicus would have attended to his wound, wouldn't he, Octavius?" Marcus asked, turning to him, awaiting an answer.

"I have learned that Emperor Caracalla had the medicus killed, sir.”

You and Marcus exchanged glances. Even though Caracalla was now dead, he had left behind some unfortunate memories, some of which were irredeemably awful.

"Octavius, I need you to stay here and ensure the safety of Lady Aurelia," Marcus said.

"As you say, sir." Octavius nodded.

Then he turned to the others. "Aris, Felix, you two come with me. We need to find Emperor Geta at once."

"Yes, sir." They both said.

"So you two are here!"

You all turned your heads towards her.

"Can you tell me where my son is, General Acacius? What are you doing here instead of finding him?" Julia asked in a defiant tone.

Right. Now his mad son had finally died, she was free too. You refused to meet her gaze. Marcus too, ignored her and turned to you. "My lady, I need to leave now. Octavius will stay here with you. Please be safe.”

"Do not worry about me, you just find him. I will be waiting for your return." You said with a smile.

"Can't you hear me? I asked you a question!”

Marcus turned to her. ‘'Lady Domna, if you don't mind, I was just about to take my leave," he said in a kind but firm tone. He than gestured for his men to step forward. He looked at you one last time before leaving the courtyard, then looked meaningfully at Octavius, who nodded. Octavius then approached you. From the way he moved and his protective demeanour, you came to know why he and Marcus had exchanged glances.

You ignored Julia's angry glare. "Octavius, take me to Cato, please."

"This way, my lady," he said, pointing ahead.

"Aurelia, where are you going? There will be members of the Senate and their wives coming to pay their respects today. Shouldn't you stay with me?"

You paused, taking a deep breath before speaking. "You're speaking as if you're my mother, Lady Domna."

"I may not be your mother but Caracalla was your brother."

"If you hadn't asked me to kill him weeks ago, I'd thought that you were in mourning right now."

"How dare you? Of course I am!" Julia's voice was loud, but when she realised Octavius was tense, she decided to lower it. "No one loved my son more than me. Whatever I have done was for him. You'll understand when you have a child of your own.”

You sighed. "I don't need your advice nor your lies. You can save them for your guests. Now, if you will excuse me, I have someone to heal." You said in a warning tone. Then you turned on your heel and left the courtyard with Octavius following you behind.

Upon Marcus's arrival with Felix and Aris at the location where Geta was last known to be, it was the hour when the streets of Rome would typically be at their most active. However, a period of mourning had been declared until the funeral, resulting in a notable absence of activity on the streets. Marcus dismounted and conducted a detailed examination of the tracks on the ground, checking every corner and stone in the hope of discovering even the slightest trace.

When he was unable to find any, he ordered his men to spread out and survey the area. He was himself engaged in searching the surrounding area. After walking for a few streets, he had the feeling that he was being watched. He soon found the person who was watching him. However, he did not reveal this to the man. The man was dressed in ordinary attire, wearing a black cloak over it. Marcus entered the courtyard of a house and waited nearby, near the wall near the entrance. As soon as the man stepped through there, as he had planned, he grabbed him and put his pugio to his throat.

“Who the hell are you? Speak!” he barked.

However, the man did not speak, he struggled, but Marcus was stronger and would not let him go. Before long, though, he pulled out a dagger with his free hand and lunged at him. Marcus saw this and grabbed his hand and pushed him hard. The man stumbled and before he could recover, Marcus had already drawn his sword. Since he didn't have a sword, the man was clearly frightened and took a few steps back before running out of the courtyard. Marcus smiled and then gave chase. He followed at a relaxed pace, curious about where he was going. But soon man started to run faster so did Marcus. After chasing him for a few streets, Felix saw them from a distance and ran over to the man and jumped on him. By the time Marcus got there, the man was already on the ground.

"Well catch, brother," Marcus said with a grin. Felix grabbed the man's hands and held them behind his back. The man tried to break free but couldn’t.

"Sir, I also had someone following me, but I couldn't catch him."

Marcus frowned. Were there more men? He looked at the man with a stern gaze.

"Whose man are you? Speak or I'll make sure you never can," Marcus said in a sharp tone, pointing his sword at the man.

The man refused to speak. He was certain that he must be Macrinus' man. A short while later, someone called out to Marcus, addressing him by his title. It was Aris, running towards them, followed by several men, all dressed similarly to the man they had captured. A few more men came from up and down the street, and they formed a circle around them. Marcus put his sharp sword to the throat of the man they had caught. They were outnumbered by eight.  One of them who Marcus figured must be their leader, took a few steps forward.

"Release my man now, General Acacius!"

"Tell us who you are and why you were following us, first.”

The man raised his arms in a friendly manner. "We're on the same side, General. There's no need for all this."

Marcus raised his eyebrows in surprise. "On the same side, you say? Which side is that I wonder? Speak at once!"

"We are also searching for Emperor Geta, as you are. However, Macrinus' men are present in many places."

"So you're saying you're not one of them?"

The man laughed. "No, of course not. I am Lexus, from Leptis Magna, and so are my brothers here. We heard that our elders, our relatives, had been murdered by Caracalla. So we came to Rome on a letter from Lady Domna. We have been keeping an eye on things for some time now."

Marcus narrowed his eyes. "So you're the one who provided her with the poison that drove Caracalla mad, were you?”

The man gave a grin. "You're pretty clever for a soldier, General. I'll give you that. Well, Caracalla was already out of control, so we had to find a way to bring him down. You see, we had to do this because if he was declared a tyrant, all his decisions would be invalidated. However, it is you who killed him, so we must say thank you for that." The man bowed his head. Marcus released the man he had captured. The man ran to his friends.

Now everything was clear. Julia had been planning this since her return maybe even before.

"I assure you that no harm will come to you or your wife, Princess Aurelia. Our only desire is to find Emperor Geta at once.”

Marcus looked at him with a sharp gaze when he mentioned your name. You wouldn't dare harm her anyway, he thought. "If you were monitoring the situation from afar, why didn't you find Emperor Geta by now?"

The man let out a deep sigh. "Macrinus and the commander of the guards were making it difficult. We've lost two of our brothers since we arrived, because of them. Anyway, we will kill the commander and then him. We are simply seeking an opportunity."

"The commander is dead, as for Macrinus," Marcus sheathed his sword with a sharp noise. "I will kill him eventually, but now I must find Emperor Geta, so you'd better stay out of my way while I do so.”

Marcus gave the order to his men to follow him, and they did so without question. The others looked at their leader, who gave them a firm nod to let them go. As Marcus strode away from them and down the street, he saw a boy watching them from the corner of a wall.  The boy immediately turned and ran away as soon as he realised he had been spotted.

"Aris, catch that child!" Marcus commanded. Aris did not hesitate and ran towards him. Marcus and Felix strode purposefully towards them, their footsteps echoing in the stillness. A shrill scream rang out. And when they turned the corner, they saw Aris had caught the boy. He was holding the child with one hand and a very familiar object with the other.

“Sir, I found this on this little rascal!”

It was the bronze crown that belonged to Geta. Marcus ran towards him and took the crown from his hand.

"I did not steal it sir! He gave it to me, I swear, to all the gods!" the boy cried.

Aris shook him, "Don't lie, you little brat! Tell me, where is the owner of the crown?"

Marcus commanded, "Aris, put the boy down."

"But sir-"

"I told you to put him down." His tone was stern. Aris nodded and obeyed. Marcus approached the boy, crouched down to his level, touching his shoulder. "Who gave you this boy? Tell me. We won't hurt you, I promise."

Soon, they heard footsteps and another boy ran towards them. He was older than the other.

"You stupid! I told you!" He shouted at the little boy. Then he looked at them. His eyes widened as he noticed Marcus. "Or, are you General Acacius, sir?”

Marcus stood and smiled at him. "That's right young man, I am General Acacius. But how did you recognise me?"

"Sir, I recognised you by the armour you are wearing, an armour embroidered in gold with the great Medusa on your chest!" he said excitedly, pointing to his armour. Just like in the murals! But the real one is certainly better! Right?" He asked the little boy with a smile.

He clapped his hands excitedly. “Yes! Yes, indeed!"

Marcus smiled at them. "Well, nice to meet you then. Now, can you tell me where you found this crown? I suppose you know who it belongs to, don't you?"

The children looked at each other and then back at Marcus. "He gave it to us himself, but I warned my brother that we should head together. But he did not listen! He always does it to upset me!”

“Slow down boy, slow down.” Marcus touched his shoulder. “Emperor Geta. Did he really give it to you?”

The boy nodded.

“Then where is he? And where were you heading?”

"The Emperor Geta has entrusted us with his crown in case they don't believe us. We were on our way to the Palatine Hill."

"I see now," Marcus said. "You don't have to do that anymore. You just take us to him now, we need to get him home safely, you know what I mean, don't you?" He rubbed the boy's head.

"Yes sir!" He shouted, standing at attention like a soldier.

Marcus smiled. "Good boy.”

When Marcus arrived at the place where the children had brought them, he was astounded. This was the poorhouse. The place you frequented and told him about. However, the place had clearly been refurbished. It no longer looked as shabby as it used to. The children noticed them and ran towards them. They examined his armour closely, their eyes filled with curiosity. Marcus smiled at them, recalling your words about this place. The children were well-fed and now wore proper clothes. He soon recognised Geta by his blond hair. He was sitting at a table with his back turned, next to him was an old woman. She was handing him a bowl of food.

"I'm not eating this, you old hag! Not in this life or the next! Don't you dare force me, or I'll throw up on you like a fountain!”

The woman noticed Marcus who was approaching them. Geta turned his head and his eyes widened. He leapt to his feet. "Acacius!" He shouted with a big smile spreading across his face. But then his smile faded instantly. "Acacius, why in the name of the Gods are you so late!"

"I apologize for the late arrival, Your Highness. Have you been here the whole time?”

"Yes, unfortunately I spent a night in this filthy place. Can you believe it? It's absolutely horrible!" His eyes met those of the people around him, who had heard him but not seem to care.

"My men informed me that there was a fight and the man who was protecting you was murdered. They looked for you afterwards but couldn't find you anywhere."

“Your man protected me until his last breath. After that, I ran into the alleys, but then I stumbled and fell, hitting my damn head on a stone." He pointed to his head, indicating the small wound in the corner of his forehead. "The children told me they brought me here. I opened my eyes and was in a daze. You can not even imagine the shock I had when I saw these brats around me!"

Marcus smirked. "Those brats saved your life. Good thing you're alive. We've been looking for you."

"This is yours, Your Majesty," Aris said as he handed the crown to Geta.

Geta took it and placed it on his head. “Well, we must leave then, I don't want to stay here any longer.” He came over to Marcus, bouncing a bit, clearly in pain. He then put his hand on his shoulder, Marcus sighed but helped him to walk.

"I shall have a very good bath when I get home.”

In Marcus' absence, you spent the day tending to Cato's and Octavius' wounds and preparing herbal ointment for Marcus too. People, including senators and their wives, kept coming by to offer their condolences until dark. Caracalla's body was laid down in the middle of the great hall, open-faced. A white cloth with a gold pattern embroidered around the edges was covering him up to his neck. The priestesses kept on chanting the liturgy next to him, almost without a break, until evening. As Julia greeted the people who came to pay their respects with an incredibly forced expression, you wondered how she managed it. She must have done it many times before; she was like an expert. It was as if she was not the one who wanted to kill him weeks ago. Everyone who came asked about Geta and where he was, and Julia always had an answer ready. Standing with them in the great hall, you hoped Marcus would return with Geta soon. Near dusk, you almost fainted listening to the endless guests and their long speeches. You excused yourself and left the great hall, walking to the other courtyard. It was quieter here, the nausea seemed to have passed for a few days, but your body was weak from all the tension you had been under lately.

You sat on the lectus in the courtyard and put your feet up to relax. You thought about calling out Decima, but she wasn't there anymore. All of a sudden, you felt a bit down, wondering where they were now and what they were up to. You let out a little sigh and leaned your head back. You soon heard footsteps approaching.

"My Lady." A deep, masculine, velvety voice addressed you.

You immediately opened your eyes and turned your head to look at him.

"You're here," you said, your face brightening with a smile. You were just about to slide your legs down but Marcus walked over, grabbed your legs and sat down next to you, resting your legs on his lap. He had a warm smile on his face.

"Or my lovely princess had a rather tiring day?" His hand gently caressed your legs.

"Just a little." You replied with a smile.

"Nothing to trouble you, I hope?" His gaze turned serious.

"Not really, it's just people coming to pay their respects. Some of them were rather garrulous. If you imagine what I mean." You said with a whispering gesture, putting your hand near your mouth.

Marcus laughed. "I afraid I can imagine, yes. Anyway, I returned with good news.’’

"Or did you find him?"

Marcus nodded and smiled.

“Thank the gods,” you said with relief. Then you put your feet down to embrace him. His large hands gently caressed your back, and you felt his lips brushing against your hair.

He took a deep breath, inhaling your scent. “I've only been away from you for a short time, yet I miss you so much.”

You pulled your head back and looked at him. His eyes took over yours with all their seductiveness. He leaned down to kiss you. But before your lips even met, a familiar voice interrupted you.

“Sister!” Geta's voice rang through the courtyard walls. Julia called after him as he approached you with a big smile on his face, ignoring his mother.

You turned your head towards his voice, tried to pull back to stand up, but Marcus' strong arms wouldn't let you. You looked at him, he seemed a bit unsure, but then his arms loosened their grip. As soon as you stood up, Geta came over and gave you a big hug. "Ugh! I've missed you so much! You wouldn't believe what's happened to me!" Marcus seemed annoyed. Julia crossed her arms.

"I have missed you too brother." You murmured.

Geta stepped back to look at you, then frowned. "Gods! What happened to your face?" 

Marcus tensed and stood up when Geta took your face in his hands. You were aware of Marcus's nervousness, of course. You gave Geta's hands a little push away. "It's nothing serious. I've already made some ointment, and if I keep applying it I'm sure it will heal in a few days."

There was a wound on the side of his forehead. You also observed that he was staggering slightly. "What about you?"

Geta just threw himself on the lectus where you were sitting a few moments ago. "I fell. I was very nearly murdered by that cunt Macrinus and his rats.”

"You shouldn't be seen like this," Julia whined, looking at him. "You should bathe and then dress appropriately for the funeral."

Geta sighed. "I agree about the bath, but afterwards I want to sleep with no dress on!"

"There are still guests coming-"

"I do not care! I'm not interested in their fake faces and tears! I need to rest." He then looked at you. "Aurelia, Acacius, join me for dinner, would you?”

“This must be a joke! It is simply not acceptable to enjoy a dinner in the house of mourning! People will gossip until eternity!" Julia yelled.

Marcus took your hand and looked at Geta. "Lady Domna is right, Your Majesty. I will have them bring your dinner to your room after your bath. It would be more appropriate if Lady Aurelia and I retired to our room now. It has been a tiring day for us all."

Geta pursed her lips. "Acacius, I would have chastised you if you hadn't come to rescue me from that awful place. However, you have every right to ask for rest. You may leave now.”

Marcus gave a nod and turned to take his leave, pulling you along with him.

“Good night sister! Rest well!” Geta said loudly after you.

“And you as well!” You waved at him.

As you made your way out of the courtyard and towards the stairs, Marcus let out a quiet sigh. "I am looking forward to returning to our villa," he said. "It might need some repairs first." He stopped at the first step of the stairs and looked at you. "We could stay here for a little longer if you wish, until I find them."

You smiled. "Now that you've found Geta, we will reunite our family."

He moved your hand, which he was holding, to his lips and kissed it. "We will, my love.”

Once you had finished your evening meal, which was brought to your room, you applied the ointment you had prepared for Marcus to his arm. You approached the table to put the bowl down, while Marcus opened the drawer of the other small table.

"My Lady, I believe I have something that belongs to you," he said. He was holding the bracelet you dropped last time when you running away from Flavius. 

"Marcus, you found it! But how?" You smiled cheerfully.

He reached for your arm and placed the bracelet on your wrist.  "I consider myself fortunate. Thanks to this bracelet, I was able to reach you in time." He sat on the edge of the bed and sat you on his lap. You put your arm around his neck. "Maybe the gods had mercy." His fingers traced the bruise on your face. His eyes were dark. "Maybe they knew what I would do if something happened to you and they intervened to prevent it, for the sake of Rome."

You could imagine what he was talking about since you had witnessed his furious side. He wrapped his other arm around your waist and kissed you on the face again and again. With each kiss, your heart was beating faster and your throat was feeling dry. As his breathing also became more rapid, lust began to take over your entire body. Marcus pushed back the hair covering your neck and kissed the exposed skin. You instinctively arched your neck back and wrapped your other arm around his neck. With your waist supported by his arm, he gently laid you down on the bed. Your feet were still touching the floor. Marcus bent over you and gave you a passionate kiss on the lips. His tongue tasted of the wine he'd just drunk – sweet and fruity. His moustache and beard tickled your cheeks, making you kiss him even more eagerly. As he deepened the kiss, he grabbed the fabric of the stola you'd tucked into your belt and quickly released you from both. Once you were left in just your tunic, he sat you down on the bed and quickly undressed you, making it very clear that he loved this very much. He took hold of your legs and waist and pulled you towards the middle of the bed. Before long, he was on top of you. His hands, his lips, his movements were as gentle and careful as he promised. It was beautiful in its seductiveness, yes, but it made you even more impatient. A few more touches and your body was already writhing to be his. You tangled your fingers in his hair as Marcus' marvellous tongue circled around your nipples. He snickered as your fingers then gripped the hem of his tunic.

“Impatient, my lady?”

“Very much so,” you said with a giggle.

He laughed and got up on his knees to take off his tunic. His bare chest never failed to amaze you. It was perfect in every sense of the word. After eyeing his torso, you reached for him, grabbed his neck, and pulled him to you.

Your lips met and immediately turned into a hungry kiss. Marcus smiled crookedly as you spread your legs for him without a second thought. He was trying to be as gentle as possible, but you were trying his patience too much. Now he was as impatient as you were. He gripped your hips and slowly entered your now helplessly squirming walls. A loud moan of pleasure escaped your mouth, causing you to break the kiss. This gave Marcus the opportunity to lick and suck your chin. But your mouths met again. And it turned into a kiss so deep you forgot how to breathe. Marcus was in no rush to speed up his thrusts, determined to be gentle this time, until you raised your hips a little and wrapped your legs tightly around him. He let out a deep, masculine sound that was similar to a roar. He broke the kiss and placed his hands on the bed, on either side of you. You thought he was angry but he snickered. "You are driving me mad you know that, do you not?"

"I know," you giggled, biting your lip. "Marcus," you ran your hands over his shoulders. "I see you're trying hard to be gentle, but there's really no need. Our child is fine." Then you placed your hands on his waist. "And I am perfectly fine." You said seductively.

He leaned in and kissed you, then grabbed your hips and pulled back to thrust deeper. "I'm glad you said that because I was just about to bite the bed sheet."

You both giggled. As if he was waiting for your approval desperately he thrust deep again. You were overwhelmed with the incredible pleasure he was giving you.

"I love how stubborn you are, even in bed," he whispered in your ear. "It makes me want you even more."

You were almost climaxing from his words, if not from his glorious thrusts deep inside your walls. He responded to your loud moans with a satisfied smile, and soon he was feeling close to the edge too.

“Marcus!” You cried out his name.

“That's right, my love. Say it louder.” He purred.

“Marcus!” You could have sworn your voice echoed across the Roman skies.

As you rose into the sky in an explosion of pleasure, you desperately but mercilessly dug your fingers into his back. And he lost it. His big fingers gripped your thighs and squeezed them so hard as he reaches his climax. He pressed his face between your breasts until he was breathing regular again. You felt wet, but it wasn't just his forehead that was sweating - your whole body was too. Your heart was beating fast, your breathing was almost wheezing, but Marcus' lips, moving slowly over your collarbone, helped you to calm down. And soon you laughed as your breathing became regular. Marcus laughed too and collapsed next to you. "This was magnificent. It deserves to be at the top of the list. What do you think, princess?" he asked, panting.

You rested your chin on his chest, looking at him curiously.  "I didn't realise you had a list, General."

He ran his hand down your spine. "Not to make comparisons of course, but to track progress. Anyway, this is a bit pointless since we're getting better every time, aren't we?" He winked at you. You blushed, but it must be invisible since your body is red all over. "Maybe it's because you're so wonderful, so full of surprises, my beautiful wife," he kissed the top of your head. You smiled and involuntarily yawned and he laughed in response. "We should get some rest now tomorrow is going to be a bit of a hard day."

"Indeed, we should," you murmured slowly, your eyelids already closing and you soon fell asleep.

He cupped your head in his palm, then carefully placed it on the pillow, then kissed your temple. "Sleep well, my love.”

As the first rays of the morning heralded a new day in the city, it did not appear to evoke a sense of mourning. As the day began, people appeared to be in good spirits, with some even hoping that the period of mourning would soon come to an end and they could return to their daily lives. Nevertheless, it was an emperor who had passed away, and whatever was required for his funeral would be done, even if he had been a flawed ruler.

As was to be expected, preparations for the funeral began at the Domus Severiana at an early hour.Julia was feeling relieved inside although she looked sad and devastated from the outside. She had been sitting beside her son's cold body in the early morning, waiting in her black stola: For her other son to wake up.

It is not known whether Geta had woken up yet, but you had already opened your eyes. Marcus woke up before you and woke you up in the sweetest way; placing soft kisses on your face. It seems that the room you were in was nothing like a room in a house of mourning.

“I wish we'd never got out of bed.” You mumbled something quietly. “I really miss the early days of our marriage.”

Marcus smirked. "Am I mistaken, my lady, or weren’t you a little bored?”

You looked up at him. “Bored? I don't think so! I don't recall anything like that. Besides, I couldn't be bored with you. That's not possible, General.”

“I feel the same way, my lady. I'd love to stay in bed with you forever. But not in this bed for sure.” He frowned.

You giggled. "In our bed back at the villa?”

“Yes, you might want to make a few changes while the repairs are taking place.”

“What could it be?”

“Anything you wish. After all, it'll be three of us in that room soon, don't you think?” He gave you a wink.

“Oh, that's right.” You said with a grin.

"It might even be four or five. Or perhaps we should tear down the room and make it bigger."

It was appealing to picture yourself with so many children, but also a bit daunting. “How are we going to stay in one room with so many children? Besides, we'll never get any alone time too.”

Marcus leaned towards you. “How about a separate secret room for us to be alone, then? A small room where no one can find us?”

You wrapped your arms around his neck. “Hmm, it sounds very romantic.”

He smirked and kissed you.

And then, you heard footsteps just outside the door.

Geta came bursting in. “Are you two still in bed?” 

Marcus quickly pulled the sheet up to your head and buried you in it.

“Gods!” You yelled.

“What do you think you're doing?” Marcus barked.

Geta crossed his arms, looking away. "It's a habit, I suppose. My mind goes back to the old days." He chuckled.

It's really great that you brought up the old days in front of Marcus, brother, you thought. You couldn't see him, but you were certain Marcus was angry.

"I had no idea you two were busy romancing on the day of the funeral," he grumbled, glancing at Marcus’ naked body out of the corner of his eye. But he looked away because he was staring at him menacingly. "Anyway, get dressed at once. The ceremony will start soon."

He left the room quickly but you had no intention of lifting the sheet off your face. You were a little tense about meeting Marcus's angry face. You gripped the sheet tightly.

"The old days?" Marcus asked.

You swallowed.

"He used to barge into your room like this before too?"

You bit your lip.

"Aurelia, I asked you a question." His tone of voice was definitely angry.

You shook your head but you must have looked pretty ridiculous since you were under the sheet. Marcus surpressed his smile and took the sheet to pull it away from your face. You tried to resist, but you were no match for his strength. You looked down, not wanting to look at his face. "I am awaiting for an answer?"

He put his fingers under your chin and made you look up at him.

"It's Geta, he's always like that."

"That's not an excuse!" he yelled, startling you.

He then let out a sigh trying to control his anger. He got out of bed to put on his tunic. "This is too much! I'll make sure the villa is repaired and we return there at once, or we'll be having another emperor's funeral soon!"

"You're right, we can't stay here." You said, mumbling.

He looked at you, then sighed again, He then sat on the edge of the bed, seemed calmer now. He brushed your arm with the back of his hand all the way down to your wrist. "I shouldn't have shouted at you. It wasn't your fault after all. Forgive me."

You got up on your knees and put your arms around his neck. "Marcus, my love, we'll return to our villa eventually. I am sure that we'll be happier there than ever. So could you try to be a little more patient, please? Also, could you try not to get angry with him? Can you do that? For me?" You ran your fingers through his hair. He didn't seem angry anymore.

He nodded. "Very well. I'll try not to get angry, but just for you. However, it'll definitely be hard to do so."

You traced your lips over his cheek. "Then, whenever you feel angry, simply remember this: I love you, I'm yours, my heart is yours, and no one can change that, not in this life or the next," you whispered.

He smiled and then looked at you in the eye. "I do too, Aurelia. I love you with all my heart, my body, my soul, everything that I have." Then he kissed you passionately, soon turned into another lustful kiss and you were surprised when Marcus quickly took off his tunic.

"What are you doing General?" You giggled. "What about the ceremony?"

He grabbed you round the hips and waist and laid you back on the bed roughly, making you gasp.

"Perhaps we can keep them await a little longer," he grinned.

okay guys im seeing movie on thursday im ery excited about it! then I will have to recover in few days... to keep writing my fic, I need your supports to do that, thank you for everything love you all!!

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[themuseofaphrodite]

know that you and i shouldn’t feel like a crime ✧ OP81

summary: after viewing a series of viral tiktoks, you decide to partake in the “hear me out” cake trend with your very wary boyfriend.

trigger warnings: suggestive & mature content, swearing

word count: 1k

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

One of your most surprising qualities was that you were a TikTok fiend, especially since you were usually down to earth and didn’t use your phone much in public — but for good reason. Your “For You” page was filled with some of the weirdest, wackiest things: dangerous extreme sport challenges, odd filters used on pets for a quick laugh… the list could go on. Each video was a perfect way to destroy your reputation as the effortlessly suave McLaren princess.

You slouched on the creaky recliner next to Oscar Piastri, your boyfriend of almost three years, and sighed loudly, garnering his attention immediately. He was perfectly attuned to your every movement and breath, which was why you liked him so much. Nothing was worse than a nonchalant man, and Oscar was anything but that.

“Hm, darling? Everything OK?” Oscar looked up at you from where he was sitting, pausing the television with a careless flick of his hand. “It’s getting late, maybe you’re tired? You did have a long day.”

You shrugged one shoulder, feigning coolness. “No, I’m fine, I’m not tired. I just have an idea.”

Oscar raised one eyebrow, already on alert. That last sentence always warned him that something was afoot, and nine times out of ten, it was never anything good. “Oh, no. What now?”

“There’s a trend going around” — this made Oscar visibly tense, a vein in his neck going taut as he waited for you to continue. He disliked the viral pranks and never laughed at any of them, to your dismay — “and I was hoping you’d be willing to participate in one of them with me?” You batted your eyelashes, giving him puppy dog eyes, a trick you knew he couldn’t resist.

“If my mates find out about this,” he warned you, waving a finger menacingly at you like a stereotypical villain. “No posting this like you did last time.” You stifled a laugh at the thought of the last prank you engaged in, and the way it had broken the Internet when you posted it on social media. Oscar had not forgiven you, and it had been almost a year.

You shook your head solemnly, extending your pinky finger out to him so he would interlock his own in an unspoken vow. “I promise you I won’t post it.”

“Good.” He pursed his lips, obviously remembering the media disaster that had unfolded last time. McLaren had not been happy with him in the slightest, to say the least. He was still making it up to them even now. “What’s the trend?”

You edged yourself closer to him, tilting your chin conspiratorially and speaking in a low whisper. “Hear me out.”

Oscar’s eyebrows furrowed, clueless. He scrolled through TikTok very rarely, mainly preferring to stick to television, and sometimes Instagram reels, so he had no idea what you were talking about. “Pardon?”

“So, basically,” you explained, your voice bright with mischief, “you have to think of a few characters, or people, that you think are attractive, although others might disagree with you. For example, hear me out,” you started, a moment’s pause between your response. “Bumblebee from Transformers.”

Oscar’s jaw dropped as the name clicked. “The robot? You want to tell me that you find a machine attractive?”

“He’s protective and sweet, and has really good music taste,” you defended, pouting.

“Goddamn, Y/N, starting off strong.” Oscar hummed under his breath, thinking. “Hear me out, Megan Fox but in Jennifer’s Body.”

You groaned loudly, annoyed. “That’s not a ‘hear me out’. Everyone agrees that Megan Fox in that film was beautiful. It has to be something unhinged, like, hear me out” — you clucked your tongue, pondering over the various choices floating around in your mind — “the Goldfish cracker on the front of the bag.”

Oscar made a distinct choking noise, his face flushing red. “An animal? God, Y/N. I should report you to the police so they can put you behind bars.”

You swatted him on the shoulder, barely missing him since his reflexes were superhuman. “Try again, Osc. Really shock me with this next one, please.”

“Hear me out…Belle from Beauty and the Beast.” Oscar waited for your approval, and you sighed, throwing your hands up in the air in surrender. “What? How was that not good? She’s a cartoon!”

“Everyone loves Belle! She’s fierce, intelligent, and stunning. All qualities that are conventionally attractive!” You shook your head. “Come on. Hear me out, a string bass.”

Oscar’s eyes widened to the size of saucers. “What the — Please tell me you’re joking, love. There’s no way you could find an instrument attractive.”

“A bass is tall, deep-pitched, and mysterious. Just what I like in a man.” You beamed up at him. “OK, Oscar. Don’t disappoint me.”

He side-eyed you, tapping his fingers on his lap as he thought. “I have one.” You watched him with bated breath, hoping that he would finally catch on. “Hear me out, Sydney Sweeney, in general.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake. “I give up, Oscar. I should’ve known that this wouldn’t have worked. Lando would be so much better to do this with… Let me ask him if he’s free.”

Oscar rolled his eyes, pulling you onto his lap before you could escape, and giving you a quick peck to your lips. “Sorry, darling. Better luck next time?”

You huffed. “Whatever, Oscar. I forgot you were an inadequate, basic white boy.”

Oscar nudged his nose against your jaw, whispering in a husky, deep voice. “Hear me out, my girlfriend, Y/N L/N. She might be batshit crazy sometimes, but she’s absolutely breathtaking. When she’s underneath me, begging for my cock like a good girl? It’s a fucking work of art.”

You suppressed a shiver, looping your arm and burying yourself against him, arousal dancing under your skin. “Fuck, OK. You win.”

He kissed you again, a smirk dancing on his lips. “Oh, I know. I always do. Future world champion, remember?”

“Arrogant prick,” you muttered, but your curses were swallowed up by a new wave of kisses Oscar pressed against your lips.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

[writingwisterias]

Each Era of Leon finding out about your pregnancy:

Leon Kennedy x AFAB!Reader Warnings: Fluff, Pregnancy, Self- Doubt, Light Angst, Drinking, Alcoholism, Depression,

RE2, RE4R, Infinite Darkness, Damnation, Vendetta, RE6, Death Island

RE2:

You found out before he was set to go to transfer to Raccoon City.

Leon went ahead before you, falling into his old drinking habits making him feel awful. He spent the night in a Motel as he frantically tried to find a living situation for you both before you moved out with him.

Once that was settled, he was due to start his new job, only to be faced with the events of Raccoon City. He spent the entire night thanking the heavens you hadn't come out to him yet.

It was radio silence from him for weeks, he had given you a panicked phone call asking you to move in with your parents and he would try to get back, news slowly filtered into your town about the nuke going off. With the pregnancy hormones, it was a rough first trimester.

You didn't actually get to tell him until he showed up on your doorstep looking different, his eyes were tired and almost looked empty like he was being haunted by something.

He sat you down in your room, talking to you about everything. His head was in your lap as he silently wept mourning the loss of his life he was so sure was going to happen.

You broke the news then, pulling out a box full of tests that you had kept.

He was silent at first. His eyes were puffy and red as he stared at the stick in his fingers.

He wanted to give you an over-the-moon reaction but his fear was justified, he had just seen nightmares...living nightmares and now he was meant to bring in a child to this world.

You knew about his promise to the government to protect that little girl, that is how you knew he was going to be a good dad...was still a good person even if he didn't seen it yet.

Before he was sent off to his training, with a final kiss he promised to come back to you no matter what...back to the both of you. His way of telling you he had accepted his new title and a silent promise that he would do everything in his power to be there for the both of you as much as possible. Even with the circumstances.

RE4R:

You had known Leon for a while meeting him in the office with Hunnigan as you helped her deal with the long night on the Spain mission.

Neither of you had actually made anything official, Leon wasn't in the right headspace for that title. Which is why it was a panic when you saw you were pregnant a week after he came back from Spain.

Apparently in your drunken celebrations of him not dying you both forgot about protection.

Leon was still being thrown into work so the only time you really saw him was around the office or before he was sent away. Yet he still noticed something was wrong.

You were running to the bathroom more often and spent breaks at your desk instead of the break room. Avoided certain foods he knew you loved.

Eventually, he felt the need to ask you. What better way to do that than to send an ominous text about him coming over.

You were nervous, panicking thinking he wanted sex and if you could even keep up with him due to your extreme amounts of fatigue.

He was chill when you answered the door, expression gentle...even smiling compared to the normal brooding look he displayed.

Then came the question 'Are you okay?'

Hormones got the best of you there and it all came spilling out. He took it like a champ bringing you into his body to comfort you. (I like to think after Ashley he became more open to physical affection if he initiated it.)

Suspect he's silent with shock as he tries to process things. Probably making you feel worse. Eventually, he talks explaining that he's happy for it and I think it would be the final push for him to actually commit to you and use titles.

Goes home and feels all giddy inside; he's still young and this just gives him something else to keep fighting for

Infinite Darkness:

He's not given up fully yet with life, still has a spring in his step but he's busy. Really busy.

In what others would say is the height of his career he wouldn't be able to commit to a relationship really, optionally sleeping around instead.

He's hot and he knows it

Ending with a similar situation to RE4 Leon where it's really unexpected. You find out whilst he's there though, I imagine the relationship he has with you is more friends with benefits.

You were going to do it that night anyway he just interrupted. You had taken the test and were waiting for the results when he knocked on the door.

You answered and forgot about the test on the side, both of you getting lost in the TV etc.

He went to the bathroom and saw the test, he saw the results first. However, he doesn't know if you are sleeping with anyone other than him so he doesn't say anything.

It's not until you go to the bathroom that you remember and have your own mini freak out. You come back into the living room, face paled and tears in your eyes.

He offers comfort anyway, being respectful and waiting for you to tell him if you want to.

It slips out anyway.

He's scared at first and goes slightly frigid. I don't think he's really in a place to want the child so he tries to be respectful and working on your terms.

Despite not being ready to enter a relationship I think he would do it for you, every other person is a one-night stand compared to you he comes back for more. Even promises to stop sleeping around.

You try a relationship, ignoring the pregnancy, to begin with until everything sort of clicks in place. When it does he's super excited.

Buying all the books and anything you might need; if he's going to work lots might as well spend it on making sure you and his babe get a good start.

RE6:

I'd say things are where his life really starts to tip. He's a fugitive for months, pretends to be dead etc and afterwards, I think it's where he starts to go downhill.

That being said, you are already in a relationship with him and have been for a while. He's not sure how he got you but he did. It's been about 2 years since you got together.

You know what he does for work and you both try to do what's best for each other and that works well for the both of you.

You find out before the beginning of RE6, meaning when you hear a knock on the door you expect to find him coming home with some corny joke only to be met with the flag and 2 agents.

You fall into a slump, trying your best to keep going for the little one he gifted you before he died; watching the horrors on the news wondering if it's even worth doing without him.

So when you get a knock on the door around 2 months into the pregnancy you are shocked, angry and happy. I'm surprised Leon didn't get whiplash.

You knew it was not his fault, he had no other option and you're very glad he's okay.

But you are mad...very mad.

He hates that he's done this to you, falling heavily into his drinking when you've gone to bed. For the pain he caused you and the events themselves still haunt you.

The relationship would have failed if it wasn't for the baby being in the equation. So he works to keep it under control and you slowly pull yourself out of the depression you fell into.

Slowly you work it out together, moving only forward until you calm down and are ready for the next chapter.

Damnation:

Poor guy barely gets his pussy breakfast with the amount he's still being sent out.

He's genuinely surprised he even made a child with the amount of quick fucks he's had with you instead of the long loving sessions he assumed he would have had should you both make the decision to start trying.

When you tell him at first he's over the moon, probably actually gives you the biggest reaction off the bat out of all the eras.

However, that's until he's left with his thoughts. You're laying in his arms, his hand is resting on your stomach and he starts to doubt himself.

He's thinking about if he would be a good dad, is he going to treat you well, can he commit to you as much as he would want to.

Full-blown panic mode

You noticed, of course you did. Always observant. And you force him to talk about, set aside the bottle and actually voice the concerns allowed.

Then once he's calmed, he'll go back to being happy. Already boasting about it at work.

Vendetta:

Despite this being the worst time period of his life. Where everything just feels too much. I don't think he would react negatively or refuse to accept it in any way.

I think he just thinks he won't be able to be a good dad and it sours his mood even further.

You both took the test together after you raised concerns about your period. He went out and got them, the whole ordeal feeling strange. His stomach is gurgling and swirling but not because of the alcohol for once.

He's so happy to be a dad that he is now just panicking about it but in a way where he's more worried for you. And what could go wrong with you.

At this point you are the one constant thing in his life, the only thing he keeps actually going for. Anyone could reference you when they mention a mission to him and he's all for it. You are the reason he keeps beating and going.

So he goes down the rabbit hole of the worst that could happen. Googling things, reading them in books, the doctors talking.

He's in Colorado not because he wanted to leave you alone but because he just needed a minute.

Chris helps him get up, trust that you'll be okay. And to fight one last fight.

When he does he's fighting for you and the baby, it's so worth it when he comes back. Arms full of things for you.

And he really kicks in to get sober now, to better himself for you and the baby, to ensure he can be the best dad he can be.

Death Island:

He was prepared for this. It's a little later than he wanted, but his life has never really been his.

When you proposed the idea he wasn't keen at first considering himself too old to have children, then he got carried away with his thoughts and he needed to do it.

Like he was insatiable until you were pregnant.

When you were, he was over the moon. Telling everyone the next day; sending you flowers and bringing home treats. You are a goddess now and he will treat you as such.

He's reading all the books and knows more than you at this point.

I feel like he's the type to try and cook food based on the baby's measurements that week and either he's a really good cook meaning it's great or it's just nice he tried.

He's getting all the adverts on Facebook etc about useful products and buying with other a second thought even if they are a scam.

He's already planning out the nursery with you. Like you need to take away his access to money at this point.