#and have his arms wide open into a hug and closes his eyes w that beautiful smile on his face

[sylviewrites]

W h e n Y o u S n u g g l e T h e m

Rafayel × Reader · Sylus × Reader. character dividers belong to @manikas-whims. Pure fluff, very little angst, no warnings.

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It wasn't enough.

You were in his unfairly giant, unfairly comfortable bed, hugging Sylus with everything you had in you. Your arm wrapped around his torso, your head tucked in his chest, and his heart beating steadily against your ear.

But it wasn't enough. A greedy monster overwhelmed you, full of want to just have him as close to you as possible.

You huffed, looking up at his serene expression with defiance. Well, doesn't he look fine and dandy? While here you are, feeling like a inferno had taken over your heart. A fire that won't be extinguished until it gets what it wants.

You exhaled a frustrated sigh and with a twist of your legs, you scooted upwards until you were almost face-to-face with your handsome beloved. You watched him for a while, taking in his long eyelashes, the way his silver hair fell over his forehead, and the way his lips stretched wide that, when aware, form into a sinful smirk.

Something purred inside you, it was warm and consuming. You threw your leg over his hip, slid one arm in the gap between his neck and pillow, and draped your other arm around his shoulder, tucking his head in-between your neck and chest.

The greedy monster was still there, but the fire has shimmered down into embers. It made your forget of your weird dreams, filled with fire and smoke, your hands coated in blood because-

No, you refused to even think about it. Your heart spiked for a second at how realistic the dream was, your arms tightening around him. You don't care if he is one of the most powerful men in the country, you don't care if he's a criminal and supposedly your enemy. You don't care if it means you'll become a tenebra, losing the honour of your noble job.

You will protect him from everyone if you could.

Mine, you thought, taking a deep breath and inhaling the scent of his hair shampoo. Home, familiar. Mine, all mine.

Sylus kept his eyes closed, though they cracked open when you sighed in content, snuggling to him like a cat, a real kitten-person. He almost chuckled at how accurate he was with his thoughts.

It was late morning on a Saturday, a time when Sylus went to sleep and you rose from slumber. It was an hour he hated yet looked forward to the most, because your peaceful sleeping nature had him adoring you in ways he never thought was possible. Still, it slightly surprised him when you made no move to get out of bed.

He felt yours lips on his forehead, a touch so soft and gentle that his heart skipped a beat. He melted against you, groaning in content and relishing the warmth of your skin, his head tilting further into you as your comforting scent enveloped him.

(What was life before, again? He can't remember, won't remember?)

Home? he wondered.

Home, his heart confirmed with a ancient whisper.

"I'm so exhausted," you groaned, plopping to the couch right besides him, your loud groaning muffled by the pillow you buried your face in.

Rafayel chuckled, flipping through the arts' magazine like it was a regular Thursday. "I told you, you shouldn't have done double shifts," he sighed, glancing down at your languid body.

His eyes softened at the sight of dark circles under your eyes, hand reaching out to trace a thumb over the worried skin. "Take a nap, I'll be here when you wake up."

You didn't answer for a long time, eyes closing as you relished the gentle touch on your skin. You snuffled closer to him and turned around on your stomach, coming face to face with your precious siren.

Supporting yourself on your elbows, you cradled his face gently, [colour] eyes tenderly roving over his features. A lovely blush rose on the apples of his cheeks, travelling all the way up to his ears. Meanwhile, his eyebrows furrowed, eyes narrowing.

"Take me off guard with your affection again, and I'll spit bubbles at you," he threatened, voice deepening the longer you kept your lips far away from reach.

"That's okay. your bubbles are always a beautiful sight to behold."

You loved seeing the surprised and flustered expression on his face. You giggled softly, unable to be any louder, and leaned further into him, closing the gap between you two and connecting your lips into a adoring kiss.

You knew all was an act as you felt him smile smugly into the kiss, his arms wrapping around you, pressing his fingers teasingly on your waist. Your hands travelled down from his cheeks to his neck, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

"Welcome home," he murmured against your lips. pecking them endearingly.

"It's good to be back," you whispered, and your foreheads touched in the reminiscence of sculptured yearning lovers, losing yourselves in the quietude at each others embrace.

[wintfleur]

Hi can u write prompt 18 and 14 🪷 and [comfort] 🌷 with lando? With lando being the one who comforts?? Thank u sm I love u and ur works 💗💗💗💗

౨ৎ sleep darling

﹕─┈ pairings ( Lando norris x female! reader )

°. — summary ( a morning with lando after a restless night )

°. — details ( g; fluff, a pinch of angst? w; none that I know of. wc; 1.5k )

﹕─┈ prompt ~ hugging them tight without saying any words when they're having a hard time + they roll on top of you, cradling your head between their hands as they kiss your nose + a tender kiss to provide comfort or reassurance

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( Tysm for the request lovely & the kind words ! I love you too !!! I had so much fun writing this, it was an amazing request !!! I hope you like it, I tried fitting in the prompts together the best I could !!! Please don’t be a silent reader lovely’s, your thoughts are what keep me motivated to write !!! )

1k celly masterlist main masterlist F1 masterlist

Restless sighs and tired groans leave your lips as you roll over onto your side, now facing your large window that gives you a perfect view of the sunrise. Your eyes dropped down to the sleepy body next to you, he was laying on his stomach with both of his arms under the soft white pillow, the duvet being pulled up to his shoulders, protecting him from the breeze coming through the cracked open window. He looked so peaceful as he slept, that made you happy. 

You missed him, lately he's been busy with getting ready for the start of the new f1 season and even though some days he came home early, you were too busy studying to really spend any time with him. For the past week, the two of you really only spent time together in bed, and most of the time lando was sleeping while you laid wide awake. You barely slept and when you did you woke up in cold sweats from the nightmares that plagued your mind. 

The lack of sleep and the intense studying didn't help your mood, but your sweet boyfriend didn't let your mood get to him, he understands. You felt guilty, he was the absolute sweetest and so understanding, sending you sweet texts throughout the day, getting you flowers and ordering you your favorite food; knowing that you most likely forgot to eat. And yet you couldn't even spare the time to spend more time with him. 

You watched as he scrunched his nose in annoyance and nuzzled his face deeper into the pillow as the sun shines on his face. You begin to feel restless as you continue to lay down, your mind not shutting off even though you've stayed up for the whole night. By the time you decided to stop studying, it was way past midnight and Lando was already asleep even though he tried to stay up for you. 

You felt that guilt creep up and you let out a heavy sigh, you couldn't lay down anymore wasting time. You quietly sit up and move the blankets off your legs and move to get out of bed, but you pause when you hear a tired groan accompanied by your boyfriend's groggy voice “Where are you going?”

“To the bathroom, I'll be right back, go back to sleep baby” you spoke softly so you wouldn't pull him too much out of his sleep as you looked back at him. One of his hands was out from under the pillow as if he was reaching out from you to stop you from leaving, and that's what he intended to do, he was just far to sleep to open his eyes. Lando hummed sleepily “Mmkay hurry back . . . wanna cuddle.” 

You leaned down and placed a soft but quick kiss on his forehead, a sleepy smile forming on his lips at the touch of your lips. You quickly leave the bed, knowing that if you stared at him any longer you wouldn't want to leave the bed. You quietly close the bathroom door behind you before turning on the light. You take your time brushing and flossing your teeth and brushing your hair out of your face, you try not to look at yourself for too long in the mirror. You could see that you were exhausted, the past week not only taking a toll on your mental state, but also your physical. 

You can imagine Lando becoming impatient with how long you were taking in the bathroom if he hasn't fallen asleep yet, so you quickly finish up in the bathroom and shut off the light as you leave. You looked at your bed and for a second you believed Lando had fallen back asleep from how still he was, but you're proven wrong when he grabs the duvet and pulls it back for you, wanting you to lay next to him. Cute. 

You fight the urge of wanting to escape to the living room to study and climb into bed, sliding under the blanket and right next to your sleepy boyfriend. You lay on your side, your hands under your face as you look at a barely awake lando. Lando pulls the blanket up to your shoulders and blinks the sleep out of his eyes, his eyes taking in every inch of your beauty. He could see your exhaustion in your eyes and face, but he thinks you're the prettiest girl ever. 

Lando frowns and tucked the blanket under your neck, his thumb softly caressing your chin “You haven't slept.” 

You didn't bother trying to lie, one you were too exhausted trying to come up with a good excuse and you also know it was no use too anyway. Lando knew you better than anyone else, sometimes even better than you. You sigh and break your eye contact before whispering “I tried.” 

“You should have woken me up, I don't like that you were up alone” Lando continues to frown as he looks at you, feeling guilty because he wasn't up to help you. The thought of you lying awake all night made his heart hurt, he wished you woke him up and he wished he wasn't so tired last night and stayed up. He didn't care if the two of you laid in silence all night in each other's arms, because you would have done it together. 

“I wasn't alone, i had you right next to me” you whispered sweetly as you pulled your hand out from under your face and pushed back his messy hair out of his eyes. A grin spreads across Lando's face at your romantic words and a cute giggle leaves his lips as he quickly moves forward, your body moving to lay on your back as he rolls on top of you. He settled comfortably between your legs, cradling your head with a gentle touch, leaning down and placing a soft kiss on your nose. 

You giggle at the sudden change of position and scrunch your nose at the feeling of his soft lips on your nose, pecking it several times; he knew it made you ticklish. Your hands move up to hold his wrists as you look up into his beautiful eyes, your legs wrapping around his waist under the blanket. He holds your face softly, making sure you keep your eyes on him as he tries his best to make his voice sound stern “I’ll always be with you angel, but you need to rest. you've barely gotten any sleep all week.” 

“I ⸺ “ 

“I'll help you study later; I promise. Just take a little nap with me . . . please” he quickly cut you off, his tone trailing off to a slight beg. He already knew what you were going to say, telling him how you desperately needed to study and that you couldn't waste any time. But he had full confidence in you, he knew you would do just fine in your exams, you were just psyching yourself out to an extreme. 

Lando didn't break eye contact with you as he pulled out his secret weapon that always works on you, a small pout with his puppy dog eyes. You sigh as you look down at his lips, knowing what he was pulling on you and there was no way you could say no to those eyes, and you knew he wasn't going to stop until you agree “Hmm fine.” 

Lando grins and kisses your nose one more time as he brings one of your hands down to pat your thigh, you unwrap your legs around his waist and sit up on your elbows as lando drops to your side, your body wanting to reach out for his warmth that you were already missing and craving. Lando lays on his back and opens his arms for you. 

You scoot closer to lando and he pulls you into his arms and into a tight but comfortable hug, your head rests in the crook of his neck while you drape your leg over his midsection. Lando slips one of his hands under your shirt and starts rubbing your back, your eyes fluttering close at the soothing and comforting touch. Lando fights back a yawn and places a kiss on the top of your head before whispering, “I’ll be right here the whole time, i got you okay.” 

You know what he meant, he wanted to let you know that you were safe in his arms, that you had nothing to fear, that he would protect you from your nightmares. Tears well in your eyes, because of the exhaustion or from the strong feeling of love you felt for him . . . you had a feeling it was the latter. You lean your head back, the movement catching lando’s attention and the two of you lock eyes as you spoke softly “I love you.” 

Lando used his free hand that wasn't rubbing your back and gently grabbed your chin, tilting your head up more so he could lean down and take your lips into his for a slow but passionate kiss filled with love and reassurance. The kiss didn't last long but it took both of your breaths away. He slowly pulled away from your intoxicating lips and watched as you laid your head back on his chest, your body melting into his with tiredness. The sound of his heartbeat lulling you to sleep. He whispered breathlessly as his hold on you tightens, his own eyes closing. 

“I love you more, now sleep darling.” 

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( GAWD I HAVE SUCH A WEAKNESS FOR SWEET BF LANDO 😭 AND CONGRATS ON P3 LAN !!! )

°. — taglist ( @iloveyou3000morgan @copper-boom @cixrosie @partyinpitlane @ophcelia @toasttt11 )

[evie-sturns]

ɢᴇᴛ ᴏᴜᴛ - ᴍᴀᴛᴛ ꜱᴛᴜʀɴɪᴏʟᴏ

summary: you're spending the weekend at the sturniolos house, you've never had feeling for matt, but this weekend has been different, he just looks too good, the sexual frustration builds up to the point where you just have to get yourself off, but matt walks in on you..

Warnings: swearing, smut, f!masturbation, caught gettin freaky w yourself, fingering, p in v.

-----------------┗━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━┛-------------

i'm spending the weekend with my best friends, the sturniolos. i've never had any feelings for them, but this past week matt has been looking.. different. he's recently got more tattoos, his facial hair has grown out slightly, giving him a subtle moustache. matt's been wearing different earrings, longer ones, i've never thought about him this way, it weirds me out, but i can't help myself. i've had no privacy for the past 3 days though, constantly with a triplet. i've wanted to touch myself, but i physically cant.

i open the trash can, throwing in me, matt, nick and chris's empty solo cups, which were filled with rootbeer.

"im so fucking tired what time is it." chris yawns, standing up from the dining table.

"1:30am." nick mumbles, rubbing his eyes.

"okay guys, i'm going to bed yeah? gotta be up early for the beach tomorrow" chris says, doing stupid claps with a wide grin on his face.

i scoff, waving him goodbye as he disappears upstairs. nick runs over to me, giving me a quick hug "i'm gonna sleep too, love ya y/n, see you in the morning."

me and matt stand in the kitchen, i lean on the countertop slightly, scrolling on our phones. his face is lit by his screen, highlighting his features. i don't even notice the fact i'm squeezing my thighs together until he looks up at me.

"you okay, mrs. staring problem" he jokes, giving me a smile. my cheeks flush, i uncross my thighs and wipe my face quickly. "sorry." i say, quickly.

"i'm gonna go watch a movie okay? my rooms always open." i say, giving matt a hug.

i get butterflies, why the fuck did i get butterflies?

i feel a heat grow between my legs, i run upstairs, going into the spare room which im staying in for the next few days. i lock the door behind me,

atleast i think i do.

i flop down on the bed, my hand reaches under my waistband, tracing soft circles over my fabric of my panties. "fuck." i whisper before shimmying my shorts and panties down in one motion to my ankles.

im left with my bottom half revealed on the bed, i use one finger to trace my clit in circles. i squirm on the bed, restraining my moans. after a few minutes i plunge two fingers into my hole, pumping in and out.

my mind subconsciously flicks to matt, his tattoos, which crawl up his arms, his hair, his hands, i wonder what they would look like around my neck-

the door opens, my eyes bulge open, me and matt make direct eye contact, i instantly yank up my shorts,

"get out please!" i say, my voice shaking, as i sit up quickly

"oh fuck im so sorry!" he yells slamming the door shut, his face pale.

i fall back on the bed, covering my face with a long groan.

embarrasment.

is the only thing i feel, my heart pounds as i bring my knees to my chest.

after 10 minutes, i hear a quiet knock on the door, i sit up off the bed, walking towards the door and opening it.

im met with matts guilty face, his cheeks are flushed, a few strands of hair stuck to his forehead.

he opens his mouth, nothing comes out execpt for a small noise. he clears his throat "sorry."

"i uh, sorry um, i really shouldve knocked." he says fidgeting with his hand. i stay silent, my cheeks cherry red. "i swear i didn't see much." he assures, i look up at him, raising an eyebrow in a 'really?' way. he stares at me "maybe thats a lie, but i swear ill blank it out of my mind!" he says, his voice frantic.

"its fine matt, i shouldve locked the door okay? lets go watch a movie in your room." i say, giving matt a warm smile. he nods, walking towards his room.

i follow close behind him as he jumps into bed, laying an arms out, i jump in beside him, cuddling close into his side.

my heart beats again, when im nervous words just come out.

"i was thinking about you when i was touching myself." i blurt out, slamming a hand over my mouth. the room goes silent. im frozen in shock.

"what?" he says in confusion.

"not true." i mumble out. my hand glued to my mouth.

matt tenses up under me. "y/n.. you have to tell me right now what your were thinking about.." he says, calmer than expected/

i stay silent.

"y/n." hes cut off by my voice.

"you it was you, i don't know!" i say, my voice trembling from embarrassment.

"what about me?" matt teases, rubbing my shoulder comfortingly

"tattoos, hair, hands" my mouth is moving faster than my brain.

"is that so now?" he says, looking down at me.

i nod quickly, matt sits up on his knees before hovering over me. i look up at him, my eyes submissive.

he smashes his lips into mine, holding the back of my head. "matt" i whine into his mouth. "i know, i know." he says, pulling my shorts down. "can i?" he says, toying with the waistband of my panties.

"please." i beg, lifing my hips up to help him. he leans down and whispers into my hair.

"whats gonna happen is you're gonna ride me, and you arent going to make a single noise, nick and chris are right next door."

i nod, flipping us over, straddling his thighs with my bare lower half.

he pulls down his sweatpants, his large erection springing out. "you ready?" he says, tearing open a condom with his teeth and rolling it on him. "i really like you.." i whisper, hovering above his tip. "you need help sweatheart?" matt speaks, holding my ass.

i didn't, i just wanted to feel his hands on me.

"yes,- yeah please.."

he lowers me down onto him, halfway down. suddenly he drops me, my ass colliding with his thighs, i let out a gasp as he smiles, he lifts me back up to his tip, before dropping me again.

i let out a shaky moan, matt holds a hand over my mouth. "can't stay quiet can you baby?" he teases, lifting me up and down.

i squeeze my eyes shut, pushing myself up and down with my hands on his collar bones. i let out muffled whimpers, his hand clamped onto my lips.

"so good princess." he praises, lifting me up and down faster.

"you're clenching, gonna cum for me?"

i nod frantically,

"go on." he says, i instantly comply, orgasming on his length.

he groans before pulling out of me, his cum spilling into his condom. i instantly collapse on his chest. matt whispers praises in my ear.

i place a long kiss on his neck.

"pretty glad i didn't lock the door." i say in between breaths

—-———-----┗━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━┛------------------

had a shitty day today so i wrote matt smut LMAO

[champagnefountains]

Oh my goodness your Lucifer fic is SO cute! You write him very well! (Exited for possible pt 2) I was wondering since your requests are open if you'd be willing to write something for either Lucifer or Alastor (or possibly both) with a short shy/anxious reader? Super fluffy plz if possible and you're interested!

Hi Anon! Thanks so much for your submission. I hope you'll enjoy what I came up with! I had fun with this one (it got me giggling and kicking my feet or something...)

Word count: 1.2k words. Kinda got carried away, my bad. Genre: (Tooth-rotting) Fluff. Established relationship. Warning: None.

LUCIFER MAGNE with a shy and short S/O:

Lucifer is quite short himself in comparison to a few demons. But, you? Being shorter than him? God, he’ll think you’re the cutest thing ever (plus, it was a massive ego boost on his part). And your timid nature only adds onto it. 

Expect him to be very touchy with you. There isn’t a second moment where he isn’t clinging onto or hugging you. Out in the public or even at the hotel, his arm would somehow always find its way wrapped around your shoulders or waist. He just wants to keep you close to him as much as possible, since you just seem to fit so snug and well in his arms. 

Lucifer loves it so much when you get all shy and flustered around him. His pride just flourishes whenever your face bursts into flames, especially knowing that it was because of him that you’re acting this way. He’ll tease you about it, but not too much because he cares for your poor heart. 

He also knows his million-dollar smile does wonders, so he’ll use it to his advantage. He’ll strike a smile or smirk at you out of nowhere when you would meet eyes, and he’ll revel in the way you’d melt so easily under his gaze. Though, it would be the same for him – his heart would burst with that warm-fuzzy feeling whenever you would send one of your precious smiles his way. This man is smitten and will worship you and the floor you walk on.

Is also super, super supportive of you whenever you get anxious – will do anything in his will to help distract you or alleviate any of your worries, whether it be just holding your hand, talking some nonsense to fill in the silence, or even flying you around to get some fresh air. He'll probably even have a duck-shaped stress ball for you to use whenever you get a bit fidgety.

Additional things I think Lucifer would do: he would give you a lot of forehead/head kisses; HE WOULD TOTALLY SET YOU DOWN ON A COUNTERTOP OR HIS DESK AND KISS YOU FR, OR HE'LL DO SO WHILST CARRY YOU WITH YOUR LEGS STRADDLING HIS WAIST I need self-control; he will shamelessly rant about how adorable you are in front of the others, even if they're all sick of it, 'cause he's just so proud to be your partner!

Lucifer found himself silently admiring you while you were all snuggled up against his chest. After another successful hard day's work, you spent the remainder of the night watching a couple movies together at the hotel’s lounge area.

Noticing a pair of eyes on your figure, you crane your neck up and with a small tilt of your head, you stare back at him in question.

The King suddenly felt his chest swell with so much love and affection for you. You didn’t even know how adorable you looked in his arms right now. Without warning, Lucifer dipped down and pressed his lips against yours, swallowing the surprised yelp that escaped your lips.

As you parted ways, Lucifer grinned widely as your cheeks noticeably began to redden. “W-What was that for?” You pouted.

“Sorry angel, but I just couldn't help it! You looked too cute – I couldn’t not kiss you then.” He stated matter-of-factly. He then leaned once again to press multiple pecks across your face – one on your forehead, on both your cheeks and another lingering one on your lips.

The out-of-the-blue affection had you swiftly burying your face into his chest, a poor attempt made to hide your embarrassment. You could only grumble in defeat as you felt the way his chest shook as he chuckled aloud, evidently amused by your flustered state.

ALASTOR with a short and shy S/O:

Not gonna lie, this man will be so annoying but in an endearing way.

Alastor would tease you endlessly about your height, since the difference would be quite significant – it usually consists of him resting an elbow or his arms on the crown of your head, leaning onto you like you were some sort of personal arm-rest. He personally finds it quite amusing, like a joke that never gets tired. 

Since he isn’t really a huge fan of PDA, he would often give you head-pats. It’s a small, simple gesture but it’s his way of showing affection out in public. He would also often have your arms looped around one of his own whenever you two would walk together, side by side. 

Behind closed doors, I can see him as the type to pull you between his legs, your back pressed against his chest whilst he reads the newspaper or a book in bed. He would then use your head or shoulders to rest his chin on, to peer over you. Sometimes he would even play with your hair, looping them around his fingers whilst he absent-mindedly hums a sweet, little tune. Again, a simple gesture but also very intimate. I'm literally melting just thinking about it. I feel like he would do something similar like this whenever you get anxious – if it helps, he would also make you some tea on the side, and even let you play with his hands/fingers.

Being the huge tease he is, Alastor just loves how shy you get around him. He's the type to say things like: "Dear, do you have a fever? You look a little flushed," or "My, my, your face may be redder than my suit!" just to see you get riled up even more. But if another demon were to talk smack about how shy you were, you will not see them live another day. That's a guarantee.

Additional things I think Alastor would do: he and/or his shadows would help you grab things from high places or would lift you up by the waist for you to grab them; out of pure instinct, he will for sure become extra protective of you; would be the big-spoon in most cases; would tease you by retracting himself using his height whenever you would lean in for a kiss.

Alastor was quick to pick up on a small habit of yours very early on – how you would always hide your smile behind your hands. When he brought it up one day, you sheepishly told him that you were insecure about your smile, which perplexed the deer-demon. 

Just like now, Alastor couldn’t help but raise a brow as you hid your grin behind your palm whilst you chuckled at one of his corny jokes. “Now, now, this won’t do, my dear!” He clicks his tongue, waving a disapproving finger at you, “why must you always hide that gorgeous smile of yours?” 

A blush suddenly breaks out across your cheeks. You unconsciously found yourself looking down, embarrassed by the flattering remark, only for his finger to guide you back up by your chin. He then leans in but stops only centimetres away, his face dangerously close to yours. 

Alastor’s grin only grew wider, seeing how helpless and small you looked – eyes widened like a deer in headlights, and yet filled with anticipation. You looked so, so nervous. And yet, it was so endearing that he wanted nothing more than to scoop you up in his arms. 

“Now, does the ground look much more entertaining than I, dear? I don’t think it can make you smile the way I do.” He teases, his voice intentionally dropping an octave deeper. God, he was going to be the death of you.

[stunie]

hnnngh no thoughts except umemiya dipping those thick fingers inside of you, cooing and adoring you while you keep whining and moaning under his touch 🤤🤤🤤

UMEMIYA HAJIME X F!READER! — nsfw ﾉ explicit smut ﾉ oh my lovely nonnie i will always be so crazy for ume prompts <33 ty sm for sending me this !! i am sooo obsessed w his big hands :>

The very first time Umemiya sinks his fingers into you, you’re a little nervous. Scared, even. He’s always been so big standing all the way at 188cm, and you have such a hard time comprehending how he’s able to pick you up like you’re nothing but a little toy.

He lets you hang on his arm, gives you a piggyback ride without a second thought, and he has a stubborn habit of carrying you around bridal style. He can always walk you home holding you just like that, because “why not? This is so easy! And it’s always better when you’re closer to me, sweet thing. Don’t you agree?”

He always catches you staring at him with that look of pure adoration, dreamy and dazed eyes fixated on the way his muscles bulge and flex with each little movement, and the feeling of them? Even better. He knows you like them when they’re a little slick with sweat, and that you like being under them even more.

“Not in pain, right? You remember the magic word?” Umemiya coos from beside you, gaze fixated on the way your arms are tightly wrapped around his pillow. He wishes he could pause and take in the sight— burn this current image of you in his head forever.

Your eyes are clenched shut as you hide from behind the pillow, perfect thighs spread wide open for him, your cunt soaked and dripping with slick with tears collecting along your pretty lashes, and your mouth’s parted slightly to let out little gasps as he runs his thick fingers up and down your folds.

You look absolutely endearing to him right now.

The noise that slips from your lips when you first feel his digits stretching you out is just music to his ears. He’s planning on taking his sweet time with you, fingers moving in and out with a deliberate slowness as you whine, moans coming out muffled from the way you’ve latched yourself onto his pillow.

“….Sweet girl? Asked you something earlier.”

Your eyes flutter open. “S-sorry,” you try and make your voice come out steady, but fail to mask the shakiness that slips out when your hips instinctively jerk up into his fingers. “Doesn’t hurt…a-ah- it’s just..a lot.”

Umemiya’s lips are tugging into a knowing smile at the confirmation, and he’s suddenly curling his fingers against your walls to test the waters, relishing in the way you loudly cry out at the stimulation.

“That feels good,” you choke out, peering down at his bulging forearms as you hug the pillow tighter against yourself. “P-please keep doing that.”

“Oh yeah? You like that, huh? Feeling good?”

The shy nod you give him is adorable, he thinks. His fingers are curling a little faster now, aiming to find the spot that’ll have you screaming for him, and the way his cock is straining against his sweats is starting to get to him. He’s gotta relieve the ache somehow, so he resorts to rubbing his cock against the side of your thigh, sighing deeply as he takes in the noises you’re making.

All for him.

It’s only when your slick starts to drip all over the sheets beneath the two of you when he thinks you’re finally prepared for the next step. You’re whining as soon as you feel the loss of his fingers, thighs squeezing around his arm to try and keep him close.

“Haji…”

“Don’t you worry, we’re only starting out. Think you’re ready for a second?”

Your eyes widen a bit at the question. A second?

Then it hits you. “T-that was only one?”

There’s a soft chuckle that erupts from his chest, and you peer over your pillow to confirm it, eyes in disbelief as you see that there really was only one of his fingers coated with your slick, but it didn’t feel like one. How would one finger stretch you out that much?

Your fingers never felt anything like that.

“Mmmm yeah, that was only one, my love,” he whispers, and your eyes widen a bit, gasping when a second finger starts to push into your hole, cunt aching and trying its hardest to take all of him- and you wonder if it’s even physically possible to take his cock if you’re struggling this much with just two fingers.

“F-fuck!” you cry out loudly when the rest is finally buried inside, feeling impossibly full as your walls spasm around his digits, and oh- he hasn’t even started to move them yet, but you swear you’re starting to feel him in your stomach-

“Now this is two.”

[ddiidi]

bf!Bangchan x gn!reader (felix mentioned)

Masterlist

When he calls you clingy, so you distance yourself

Previous Pt. 3

Pt. 4

Next Pt. 5 (last part)

!Warnings: angst, reader is confused about their feelings, Chan gets pushed away (no actual harm done!), fake!texts, swearing (lmk if i missed anything)

Side-Note: *does a happy twerk dance bc I actually came up w something even tho my brain is fried rn* No but rlly, I didn't even want to do a 5th part but I had to find a way on making it work between them and this part turned out to be too long☝🏽😞💔💔💔💔💔💔 now I'm heartbroken... ANYWAY ENJOY

It's been 2 days. 2 days and you already miss him. It's not that he doesn't deserve it, but you really just want to hug him right now.

You've spent the last 2 days, crying in your bed and not a single text message from chan. The other members did message you, but you only want one from him...you know you told him not to message you, but it's his fault in the first place.

You stood up and got out of bed. Maybe unboxing my stuff will get me on other ideas, you thought to yourself and made your way to the living room, taking your time unboxing and placing your items on the furniture you bought weeks before.

Everything went well and your mood brightened up till you got to one specific box. The box, filled with Polaroid pics from your date, loveletters and poetries written by chan for you and more. You just stare at them for a while, but then decide to close the box and take a nice warm bath, maybe then you'll relax for a bit and not think of him.

You went to your bathroom, and turned the bathtub water on, taking off your clothes next. You take some bathing salt and a bath bomb out of your cabinet, throw them in the half filled bathtub and step inside. You've nearly melted at the feeling of the hot, but not too hot water on you skin. Since you're together with chan, you've barely looked after yourself, you nearly forgot how good it felt to just spend you time and have no one else around and suddenly, it wasn't that bad that chan isn't around anymore. You actually felt, relived, so you just close your eyes and relax....

xxxxxx

You must have fallen asleep, because when you open your eyes, the water was cold. You've rubbed your eyes, washed yourself, wrapped your body in a bathrobe and left the bathroom. You yawn out and went straight to your room, when you hear your phone vibrate. Someone is blowing up your phone and in the back of your head, you wished that it's the person, it actually is. Chan.

You throw your phone on your bed and walk over to your wardrobe and bang your head against it. What. The. Actual. Fuck Y/l/n Y/n. Why would you possibly ask HIM, to come into your apartment after you told him you wanted space???

You grab some clothes out of your wardrobe, flinching as you turn around, as someone widely bangs open the door to your bedroom.

"Y/n?! Y/N!" chan screams, excited and runs over to you like an excited puppy, just to stop in his tracks as he remembers that you warned him not to touch you, so he stands still in front of you, with a giant smile on his face.

"Get out of my room. Can't you see i'm changing right now?" you coldly reply to him, fighting your inner demons to not jump right in his arms and hug him. His smile drops and he just blinks at you confused, which nearly breaks your heart. How is it possible that he was so mean to you, but is also so freaking cute which makes it so hard to hate him? "I-I don't understand.. why do I have to go out, it never was a problem to you-" "Do you want me to kick you out of the apartment instead?" you ask, as you walk over to your bed.

"NO, no i'll leave.." Chan lowly responds, walking out of the room. You weren't going to risk him calling you clingy again, for changing while he's in the same room, not happening.

xxxxx

After you've changed into something comfortable, you've asked him to come back inside and sit next to you on your bed, with a good amount of space, which Chan stared at with a questioning look, but didn't comment it any further.

"So? Why are you here?" you started asking, "I mean, why did you come to my apartment. If you came to just apologize, you can go again, because what you said needs more than an apology. Just because you'll feel better after apologising doesn't mean-" "-Doesn't mean that it's actually okay, I know baby.." Chan interrupts you, as he stared down at your arms "Can I...hug you?" "Excuse me?" you ask confused. Since when does he ask if he can hug you..? "I mean, sure I guess" you just say and with that Chan grabs you by you waist with one hand, putting his other hand, securingly on your neck, hugging you. You were about to hug him back, but stop midway.

Why did you just stop? Isn't that what you wanted? He's here now so why don't you hug him? Could it be that you're...scared? Scared that he might think you're actually clingy and annoying? Scared of that he'll push you away if you make a move? Or are you...

"You smell so good...i missed you so much..." chan's words pull you out of your thoughts, as you push him off. He looks at you, confused. Why did you suddenly push him off? "Wh-" "You should go." "Wha- But why.." "Please Chris just go." "Can I at least get a kiss-" "GEEZ CHRIS JUST GO!" you yell. You didn't intentionally yell at him, but you needed some time for yourself to collect your thoughts, and he's only in the way.

"Please...just go" you mumble out, and Chan stares at you for a while, before standing up from the bed. "I'll text you when I'm home" he casually says, with a hint of sadness in his voice. He mumbles out a quick and quiet >>I'm sorry, for everything<< out, and makes his way out of the apartment.

What was wrong with you? You've missed him so much so why would you not hug him back? Why would you ask him to go? And why...why didn't you kiss him?... You've loved to do it before....so why not now?..

What....was wrong with you?

Are you really...

As clingy as he said?

⁺˚*･༓☾✧༺🖤༻✧✧༺🖤༻✧✧༺🖤༻✧☽༓･*˚⁺

@stay-tiny-things @finnbbl @emilyywhyy @wolfs-howling @justastraymoa @loveyouamory @muraae @callmekdab @seungquokka @vive-la-v-i-d-a @sunghoonnolgy

[thisonehere]

Csn you write Smoke x fem. Reader about the reader waking Smoke by giving him kisses along his bare back?

I sure csn!

The Sleeping Beauty

Tags: Request, Tomas x fem!reader, MK1, Heat, hugs and kisses

C/w: Slight-smut, body-worship, blue balls

Next part

It was morning time at the Shirsi Ryu's Sunlight poured into Tomas's room from the curtains. Blanketing you in its color, your eyes open and strain at the soft light. You can hear birds chirping You lift your head up just the slightest to look at the alarm, 8 AM. As you rub your eyes, you look over to Tomas, there he is still sleeping soundly on his stomach. Like many times before, you had stayed the night in hid room, and like nights before, it was wonderful. You're honestly surprised you woke up before him. Usually he is always the first to wake up, he lets you sleep in for a few extra minutes as he gets ready. On many mornings he has breakfast that he lovingly crafted just for you to enjoy. Other than the burnt parts, it often tastes almost decent.

A wide smile spreads across your face as you look at him. You take the moment to just admire him and how cute he is. His short hair is messy from the night of tossing and turning to find the right position, drool drips from his mouth, a pleasant smile decorates his face as if he's dreaming of something sweet. Tomas likes to sleep shirtless, leaving his body on display for you. The warm morning light blankets his back, highlighting the many muscles. Muscles he often uses to cuddle you many times during the night. You nuzzle up next to him and take in the warmth of his soft skin. Soon he'll have to get up and leave, so you melt into him as you just enjoy the moment.

Tomas, still somewhat asleep, wraps an arm at you, holding you close, then begins to snore all over again. You feel in such a state of peace, it's a shame in a few minutes it'll all be over. So why not start the morning off with a little fun? A mischievous thought suddenly popped into your head, your content face soon morphs into a sly smile as you get out from under Tomas's arm and hover over him. After trying to hold back a few giggles, you go down and place a kiss on his back. And then another. And another. Up and down his back you pepper one kiss after the other. You get everywhere, along his spine, his shoulder blades, even getting close to his lower back. You worship his glorious body with one kiss after the other.

After a few moments, Tomas begins to stir. First with a slight groan. And then he lets out a confused sound as he comes to. You just continue to kiss the man's back as he moans a little under breath. He lifts his head up and looks over his shoulder at you, "And what are you doing down there?" As he has arches brow and a surprised smile. "Just making sure you woke up the right way." You finally stop as an uncontrollable giggle overtakes you. "Well, that's certainly been accomplished." His face burned red with blush as a fluster expression is on his face. He rolls over onto his back and spreads his arm, inviting you in for a quick cuddle, which you happily accept. You lay your head onto his chest as he wraps his arms around you. "There's a lot to be done today." His voice has a slight serious tone to it. "Honzo?" You guessed, Tomas just nods. "Among other things, I have a full day ahead of me." Tomas groans. The sky smirk returns to your face. "Then why don't we begin it the right way?" Tomas gives you a questionable look, it slowly dawns on him what you mean. The blush gets even harder as he stares at you flustered.

You begin to kiss him. Starting from his lips, going down to his neck, then to his chest, all the way down to his abs. Tomas lays his head back, a smile on his face as he braces to enjoy what you're about to do. You make your way down further his body, being sure to pepper kisses all over his torso and before getting to his belly bottom. Soon, you are close to his pants. Tomas lifts his head up to give you, an excited smile on his face. You reach for his pajama pants, kissing and sucking at his pelvis. You can just feel Tomas's excitement as you slowly undo his pants and pull it back to reveal a part of his groin. "I better go get ready." You suddenly say, lifting head up from his body and pulling the pants back to where it was. "W-Wait, What?" Tomas is quick to sit up in bed. He's confused as he stares at you dumbly as you jump to your feet. You leave Tomas on the bed, flustered and panting mess as you make your way to the door. "Wait," Tomas lifts his pajamas and stares at the problem you've just created. "Y/n, y-you're not going to leave me like this, right?" He asks with a panic as he looks miserably at the stiff monster. You don't answer back and you leave the room. "Y/n?" He desperately calls to you.

[batsovergotham]

(FINALE) Chapter 10 Part 3: Inevitable Ends

"Born in blood, both of us, Angstrom was right. I thought I could change what I am, keep my family safe. But it doesn't matter what I do, what I choose. I'm what's wrong. This is fate."

Main!Mark Grayson x Psychic! Reader

warnings: SMUTSMUTSMUT, death, angst, mark is so supportive, mentions of childbirth, violence, blood

w/c: 14.9k

a/n: i have so many thoughts about this. i love all of you guys, thank you so much for your support <3

It takes you a second.

But then

“Oliver?”

He comes inside gingerly, one hand still grasping the edge of the door.

He’s taller now.

Older.

He looks approximately seven, give or take. But the sharpness in his gaze is evident. He’s observing everything. The machines. Your expression. Mark’s stance. Debbie’s hand on your arm. He’s taking it all in.

He looks more like Nolan than ever, but the tenderness in his expression? That’s Debbie. That’s every gentle minute she put into him while no one else was looking.

Mark turns toward the door.

“Hey, buddy.”

Oliver lights up. Not with a grin. Just wide-eyed happiness, like he’s been keeping it in so hard, and suddenly he can’t anymore.

He jumps across the room and bumps against Mark’s legs, locking his arms around them as tight as he can.

Mark brushes his hair involuntarily, his mouth quirking into something that’s not quite a grin, more like relief.“You got taller.”

“I grew,” Oliver whispers triumphantly, muffled against his brother’s pants. “And I didn’t cry this time.”

Mark crouches and pulls him in for a nice hug. “Good. That’s rough stuff.”

“I still missed you,” Oliver says, softly.

“I missed you too, little man.”

You’re watching the whole thing with your heart in your throat.

Oliver glances to you after a minute, eyes a bit apprehensive.

“Is she okay now?”

Mark follows his eyes.

You meet the kid’s eyes and smile.

“I’m okay,” you say quietly. “Still tired. But okay.”

Oliver nods, as if that’s enough, and strides up to the bed like he belongs there. He lays a hand gingerly on the side of your arm, where there are no bandages or bruises.

His palm is tiny. But warm.

“You were sleeping for ages,” he informs you. “I drew pictures and told you stories every week. Did you hear them?”

You attempt to chuckle, it comes out more like a gasp. “I think so. One of them had a robot built of pasta?”

“That one was my favorite,” he says proudly.

Debbie sits back on the chair near the bed, arms folded gently, smiling warmly at all of you. “He made them memorize your schedule. Wednesdays were storytime. Sundays he drew you something new. He said you needed something exciting to dream about.”

You swallow hard.

“Thank you,” you murmur to him.

Oliver shrugs. “You’re my family too.”

And that’s it.

The room collapses into something still. Not hefty. Not tense.

Just... full.

Like something has snapped back into place.

You’re here.

Mark is here.

Debbie. Oliver. All of you. In one room.

Alive.

Together.

You lay back against the cushions, your hand still resting over your stomach, Mark’s fingers curled softly around yours again.

And for the first time in weeks, maybe months, you feel this timeline could be worth maintaining.

The silence doesn’t stay long.

There’s another tap at the door, this one harsher, more authoritative. You don’t flinch, but Mark glances up from where he’s sat next to you, hand still intertwined with yours beneath the blanket. He sighs.

“Bet you anything it’s Cecil,” he mutters, already straightening his back.

Sure enough, the door glides open with a faint hiss, and in steps William, looking like he’s hardly slept, followed closely by Rex, who looks like he hasn’t changed his clothing since the war, and then last, Cecil Stedman.

Cecil enters the room the way he usually does, with a presence. Not loud. Not aggressive. Just that same deliberate, calculated calm. The room moves a bit, the way it usually does when someone with too many secrets enters into a space packed with others who’ve been broken by them.

“Look who’s finally awake,” Rex says, stepping in with his typical swagger but without the passion behind it. “Took you long enough. I was starting to believe Mark here was gonna lose his mind.”

You smirk slightly. “He already did. Came back with a little bit of facial hair and new emotional depth.”

William gives out a strangled laugh. “Still got it. Jesus, it’s great to see you.” He stares at you like he’s not sure whether he’s permitted to come too close like you could disappear again if he does. “You had us scared.”

Mark stands alongside the bed, smiling at William before gazing back at you. “They’ve been hovering outside the GDA for the last week.”

“Technically I was hovering,” Rex mutters. “Will was stress-baking.”

“First of all,” William responds, “it’s called coping. Secondly, not all of us can punch skyscrapers when we’re worried.”

Cecil hasn’t spoken yet. He stands at the entrance, quiet, unreadable. His hands are in his coat pockets, his posture deceptively calm, yet you can sense the anxiety in him, the silent weight of everything he wants to say but knows he can’t say in front of the others.

That’s when he clears his throat.

“Boys. Clear the room.”

Mark turns to him, eyes narrowing. “Come on. She just woke up. Can’t this wait?”

Cecil doesn’t even blink. “Mark.”

That’s all he says.

And somehow, that’s enough.

Mark sighs through his nose. “You better not piss her off.”

“She’ll be fine.”

Rex and William gaze at each other, then back at you.

“You good?” William asks, a bit more seriously this time.

You nod. “Yeah. Go on.”

They depart without issue, Rex throwing you a two-fingered salute on his way out. Mark hesitates at the door, peering over his shoulder like he wants to remain, like he knows this is something he doesn’t want to be left out of.

But he respects you.

So he leaves.

The door hisses shut behind them.

And now it’s just you and Cecil.

The hush is longer now.

Deeper.

He approaches near the foot of your bed and stops, his gaze roving slowly across your vitals, your face, the gentle glow still remaining faintly beneath your skin like embers in ash.

He exhales.

“Good to see you upright.”

You study him.

“Didn’t think I’d make it?”

He doesn’t grin. Doesn’t flinch.

“I didn’t know what the hell to think. You’ve always been unexpected. But after what you did out there-”

He stops.

Starts again.

“I’ve seen a lot of powerful people in my life. You’re not just powerful.. You’re...”

“Uncontainable?” you offer, voice rough yet steady.

Cecil’s face changes slightly. Not a smile. Just acknowledgment.

“You terrify half of the GDA,” he acknowledges. “The other half thinks you should be running it.”

You don’t react.

He steps closer. Slowly.

“I wanted to be the one to tell you this, and I didn’t want it to be filtered through Mark. Or Debbie. Or anyone else. I wanted to say it myself.”

You blink, waiting.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly.

Your chest tightens.

Cecil Stedman doesn’t say sorry.

Not ever.

Not until it costs him something. “I should’ve protected you better,” he continues. “Back then. When we found you. When we studied you. We tried to label you, contain you, use you. And you were just a kid.” You say nothing.

Because you remember.

You recall the icy flooring, the faint murmurs behind glass, the voices that only called you by your subject number.

“I thought I was doing what was best,” he adds. “For the world. For the mission. But the reality is, I didn’t see you. I saw a weapon. And you proved me wrong.”

You gaze at him.

And for the first time, ever, you see it.

Not weakness.

Not guilt.

Respect.

“After everything,” he says, “you still saved that city. You could’ve walked away. You could’ve burnt it all down. But you didn’t.”

You speak, eventually.

“I didn’t do it for you.”

He nods. “I know. That’s why it mattered.”

The stillness hangs between you for a little longer.

Then Cecil clears his throat and straightens his tie.

“There’s no handbook for what you are now. No protocol. Frankly, I’m not even convinced the GDA has the right to supervise you anymore.”

You raise a brow.

“So what? You gonna cut me loose?”

He meets your gaze. Steady. Clear.

“You’re free.”

The words strike harder than they should.

“I’m not asking you to disappear,” he emphasizes. “I’m not asking you to work for us, either. If you want to go off-grid, vanish for a bit, raise that kid in solitude, you can. If you want to stay, help protect people, we’ll give you every tool you need.”

You gaze at him, shocked.

Cecil takes a slow breath.

“You don’t answer to us anymore. You never actually did. I see that now.”

He turns, going toward the door.

And just before he reaches it, he pauses.

“One more thing.”

You wait.

He glances back at you.

“Whatever you decide… don’t do it alone.”

You nod.

And for the first time in a very, very long time

You believe him.

The door hisses open.

Cecil steps out.

And the future?

The one that used to terrify you?

It finally feels like it belongs to you.

The door hisses open again not even five minutes after Cecil departs.

This time, Mark’s the first one back in.

He doesn’t say anything right away, simply strides in like he’s holding his breath, eyes searching your face as if Cecil might’ve broken something that hadn’t completed mending. His shoulders are stiff. That small wrinkle develops between his brows again, the one that only shows up when he’s overthinking and pretending not to.

But you meet his stare. And you grin.

And he exhales.

A second later, the rest follow.

Rex strolls in with a half-eaten granola bar, William following him, and Oliver jumping forward like the seven-year-old he is, trying very hard to appear like he wasn’t listening the entire time. “Still alive?” Rex says, leaning on the wall with all the grace of a brick. “That’s good. I was about to start drafting your memorial. I had ‘most terrifying badass I’ve ever met’ on the opening line.” William gives him a glance. “Jesus, Rex, it’s been a day.”

“I said she’s alive! That’s positive.”

“I’m alive,” you croak. “Not deaf.”

They all settle in around you like they’re trying not to crowd you but they’re terrible at it. Rex lies at the foot of the bed, Oliver slides up into the chair nearest to your side, and William stands awkwardly with a bouquet of very clearly last-minute flowers.

“They didn’t have a card,” he replies, presenting them meekly. “I was gonna write something, but I forgot I don’t have your last name.”

You blink. “You’ve known me for months.”

“I thought you were just Ace. Like Cher.”

“I thought it was a code name,” Rex mutters.

“It is a code name.” You laugh, before speaking your name. Your real one.

“I thought you were a dream, honestly,” Oliver adds, dangling his legs off the chair.

Mark sighs. “Her last name is hers. Let her tell you if she wants to.”

You raise an eyebrow at him.

“Not that she has to,” he adds hastily. “I’m just saying, never mind.”

They’re ludicrous.

And you adore them.

The room moves again. Not hefty. Not intense.

Just full.

They converse for a while. William informs you about a new movie you apparently have to see the second you’re out of the hospital. Rex complains about Robot making him register every tiny disagreement in the Coalition’s new danger database. Oliver talks about school, how he’s too smart for the new online curriculum and Mark won’t let him skip a grade because “you still act like a six-year-old when someone eats your snacks.”

It’s so commonplace it nearly aches.

Eventually, a nurse comes in to check your vitals and suggests, gently, that you should relax. That you’ll probably be discharged in the next forty-eight hours, maybe less. The regeneration indicators are off the charts. You’re recovering quicker than any basic human should be.

She doesn’t say it explicitly, but she looks at you like she knows something changed in your DNA. That whatever you did to delete Angstrom and reconstruct a city left something new behind in you.

You don’t refute it.

She exits after another scan, and the group starts to break apart.

William embraces you gently and promises to bring something substantial to eat next time. Rex warns, “You better not disappear again or I’ll make Mark cry in public.” Oliver hugs you hard, closer than you think, and says, “I’m glad you’re here,” before running off to join up with Debbie, who’s waiting in the corridor.

When the door closes again, it’s just you and Mark.

The lights fade slowly.

You move to sit up a bit further, and he helps you, one hand braced behind your back.

“You okay?” he says quietly.

You nod. “Yeah. Just… tired.”

He nods too, staring at the blanket bunched about your waist.

“I’ve been thinking about something.”

You wait.

And for once, he doesn’t stall. Doesn’t stutter.

“I want you to move in with me.”

You blink.

Not because you’re startled he wants it but because of how he says it. Direct. No buildup. No dancing around it.

Just Mark.

“I mean,” he continues, massaging the back of his neck, “I want you with me. Not just visiting. Not just when things go to shit. I want us to live together.”

You look at him, heart thudding.

“There’s space,” he says. “It’s not much, but I’ve been working on it. It’s a bit messy. I didn’t think I’d ever be sharing it with anyone but, uh-”

“Mark.”

He stops.

You smile.

“I want that too.”

His mouth expands slightly. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

The stress pours out of him like someone switched a switch.

His shoulders slump. His breath eases.

You grip his hand.

“I want a home,” you say. “Not just a safehouse. Not a hospital. Not a bunker. Just… something we make together.”

He nods, swallowing hard.

“We can get extra stuff for the baby. Whatever you want. I’ll paint the walls. I don’t care if it’s pink or blue or, I don’t even care if we live in the city. We can move to the coast. Or space. Or-”

You tug on his hand gently.

“Mark?”

“Yeah?”

You smile.

“Let’s just start with one room.”

He laughs, actually laughs, for the first time in what feels like months.

You close your eyes, listening to it.

Letting it wrap across your chest like a blanket.

When you drift off again, it’s slower this time. Easier.

Because when you wake up next

You won’t be alone.

They dismiss you discreetly.

No cameras. No headlines. No armed GDA escort.

Just a quick talk, a computerized clipboard signed with a quivering hand, and a nurse giving you a look that says, You terrified us. She doesn’t say it out loud. She doesn’t need to. You see it in the way she checks your vitals twice, even after the monitors affirm you’re steady. You notice it in the way she avoids eye contact as she unhooks your IV and clears the equipment off your side.

She’s terrified of you.

But she’s also appreciative.

Everyone is.

And that’s a type of silence you’re still learning how to sit with.

Mark helps you get dressed. He doesn’t ask whether you want help, he simply knows. He turns around as you change into the comfortable sweater and sweatpants they supplied for you, but his eyes never travel far. His motions are subtle. Gentle. Careful. Like you’re made of something irreplaceable now.

You assume you are.

When you slide your feet into your shoes, slowly, still a touch sore, Mark crouches to knot the laces. You don’t say anything. You merely place a hand on his shoulder while he knots them, steadying yourself, resting yourself in the warmth of him.

Then he stands, holds out your coat.

You let him help you into it.

And for the first time in a month, you walk out of that hospital room alive.

Debbie and Oliver are waiting just outside.

She’s resting against the wall, arms crossed, sipping from a coffee cup she probably hasn’t replenished in hours. Her smile brightens up the second she sees you, warmth pouring across her features, sweet and honest and proud.

Oliver?

He races toward you like a bullet while calling your name loudly.

You hardly have time to brace before he collides with your legs, arms clamping tight around your waist. He clings like you could disappear again if he lets go.

You giggle gently, cringing just a bit from the abrupt touch. “Easy, buddy.”

“No!” he declares forcefully. “You were asleep forever. You’re not leaving again.”

Mark lifts an eyebrow. “Oliver, she’s literally right here.”

“She might leave! Like poof! You don’t know!”

“I mean, technically she could,” Mark mutters, half-joking. “She did bend reality once-ow, okay, okay-”

You pinch his arm.

Debbie chuckles behind her coffee cup. “He’s been wound up since we got here. He drew you four drawings this morning.”

“They’re all cats,” Oliver exclaims proudly. “Because cats never die in stories. They just come back.”

You stoop gently, resting your hand on top of his head.

“Thank you,” you whisper. “I missed you.”

He hugs tighter.

Mark bends down and delicately pries him off you, only a little, and slings a duffel bag over his shoulder. “Alright. Let’s bring her home.”

You blink.

Home.

The word still seems too huge in your mouth.

Too real.

The car trip is silent.

You sit in the rear, huddled in your coat with the window open just a bit to let in the breeze. Oliver refuses to sit in the third row. He slips himself between you and Mark, head resting against your arm, legs folded up. He’s old enough to not need to be babied anymore. But he’s still clutching, like contact is the only way to be sure this isn’t another dream.

You allowed him.

You don’t notice until halfway back that Debbie’s letting Mark drive her car.

You gaze up in the rearview mirror, catching her eyes.

She grins.

She knows.

The city outside is normal. Buses. Streetlights. People crossing at crossings. Nothing looks like it was disintegrating a month ago. Nothing looks like it was wiped and redone by someone who died and came back with something else living in their blood.

No one knows what you did.

But you remember.

And they remember for you.

Mark’s place isn’t huge.

But it seems natural.

Warm. Lived-in. A touch untidy, with a pile of clothes on a chair near the window and an unopened pack of diapers tucked into the corner next a stack of books. The couch has a ding in it. There’s a seance dog blanket hanging over the arm.

You step in and it strikes you like a wave.

This is yours now.

Not just his.

Yours.

Oliver pulls off his shoes and beelines into the living room. “I’m picking the movie!” he shouts. “She needs a comfort movie!”

Mark shrugs. “Can’t argue with that.”

Debbie remains at the door, observing the two of you softly.

You stride approach her.

“I don’t know what happens next,” you reply gently.

She nods, sliding a strand of hair behind your ear. “None of us do. But you’re not alone.”

You hug her before she can hug you first.

She clings on closely.

Then, with a kiss to your temple, she’s gone. Back to her own space. Her own recovery.

Leaving only the three of you.

Mark comes up behind you a little later, arms wrapping around your waist. You lean back into him.

“I meant what I said,” he whispers. “This place is yours too. You can put your stuff anywhere. Move the sofa. Steal the blanket. Take the bed.”

You turn your head toward him. “Where are you sleeping, then?”

He shrugs. “Wherever you are.”

You kiss him.

Not hard. Not urgent.

Just home.

Oliver shouts from the other room, “You guys better not be kissing again!”

Mark laughs against your mouth.

You pull back with a smile. “Guess that means movie time.”

And for the first time in a long time

You let yourself be small again.

Not a goddess.

Not a weapon.

Just someone nestled on a couch between the man she loves and the younger brother who refuses to quit clinging to her arm.

The living room is dim, bathed in the soothing blue glow of the television. The movie is one you’ve all seen before, Seance Dog 3: Grave Mistakes, which means no one’s actually paying attention. The volume’s a tad too low. The popcorn bowl is already half-empty. And Oliver is laying sprawled out across both you and Mark like a human blanket, his head in your lap, feet kicked up on Mark’s thighs, hogging the throw blanket like he paid rent here.

You don’t mind.

Mark doesn’t either.

You’re both too busy taking up the moment. It’s the first time in weeks, maybe months, that life feels like it may be okay. You’re not in a clean white hospital bed. You’re not fighting for your life. No one is asking you to fix the world.

You’re just here.

Soft hoodie. Warm sofa. Mark’s arm thrown over your shoulder, his fingertips drawing lazy circles on the back of your neck. Oliver partially asleep, moaning about how Seance Dog’s sidekick doesn’t get enough screen time.

It’s perfect.

Until it’s not.

Halfway through a scene when Seance Dog banishes a haunting mirror using nothing but sass and theatrical gestures, Oliver stretches and yawns, then blurts out

“So how are you having a baby if you and Mark never kissed before you were in the hospital?”

The room goes silent.

Your body stiffens.

Mark chokes so forcefully on his drink that it sprays over the blanket, his hand slamming against his chest like he’s been shot.

“WHAT?!”

Oliver raises his head slightly, frowning. “What? I’m seven, not dumb. People keep talking about it. Mom made that funny face when the nurse said she was stable and still pregnant, and William said something about miracles, and Rex said Mark ‘got lucky’ and then started laughing like a maniac.”

You gaze down at him, eyes wide.

Mark is still coughing into his elbow.

The TV plays on in the background as if your life hasn’t just erupted in the midst of your living room.

“I…uh-” Mark tries, gasping. “That’s…okay. That’s not…how could…what did Rex say?”

Oliver blinks. “That you two ‘couldn’t keep it in your pants,’ but then he said ‘oh god don’t repeat that’ and walked into a wall.”

You hide your face with both hands.

Mark moans and leans forward like he might pass out.

“Okay,” he breathes. “Okay, yeah, alright. So that’s…that’s a thing that’s happening now.”

Oliver squints at you. “So... how?”

“How what?” you say, voice barely a whisper.

“How are you having a baby? You’re not even married!”

“That's not-” Mark starts, then pauses. “That’s not a requirement.”

“Says who?”

“Everyone in the modern world!”

Oliver shrugs. “In health class they said two people have to love each other a lot and then they-”

“NOPE,” Mark shouts loudly, grabbing a pillow and flinging it over his face. “Nope nope nope-”

You’re laughing now.

You can’t help it.

It starts as a little chuckle but swells fast, flowing out of you in waves while Oliver frowns in total astonishment, and Mark is face-down on the sofa muttering something about requiring time travel and noise-canceling walls.

Eventually, you gather your breath enough to speak.

“Oliver,” you say softly, pushing his hair back, “we didn’t mean to surprise anyone. It just… happened. Sometimes people love each other, and they don’t always plan things, but they choose to stay anyway.”

Mark peeks out from behind the pillow. “Yeah. We, uh... really love each other. Like, a lot.”

You flash him a glance.

He shrugs hopelessly. “What? I’m trying.”

Oliver pauses for a bit, then slowly nods.

“Okay,” he says. “But I get to name it.”

You blink. “What?”

“The baby. I get to name it. I’ve had a list since last month.”

“Why…why would you have a list-”

He sits up, absolutely serious. “Okay so top tier options include, Mecha, Darkblade, Turbo, and... Corn.”

Mark blinks. “Corn?”

“It’s strong and unpredictable.”

You’re laughing again, tears pricking your eyes.

Mark gives you a look like ‘this is your fault.’

You shake your head. “We’re not naming the baby Corn.”

Oliver flops back down spectacularly. “Fine. But middle name?”

Mark leans closer, speaking just loud enough for you to hear “We’re definitely not naming our kid after a vegetable.”

The three of you melt into laughing again, wrapped in a mound of blanket and chaos and love.

The movie plays on. The spirits are vanquished. Seance dog rescues the world again.

And somewhere between scenes, between laughs, between breaths

Mark kisses your temple.

Soft.

Careful.

Like a vow made in the middle of a sofa, with a kid between you and a world still gathering its breath.

You lean into him.

Oliver snores quietly on your shoulder.

And for the first time in forever, you believe in after.

The movie concludes softly.

The titles play over a soothing piano tune while Seance Dog gives a final, poignant monologue about legacy and love, standing atop a haunting mountain as the sun rises behind him.

Mark snores once, loudly.

You nudge him.

“I’m awake,” he mutters, eyes still closed. “I’m just appreciating the…um, the cinematic framing.”

Oliver grins into your shoulder.

You stretch gently beneath the covers, every joint stiff yet functioning. You’re still exhausted. Your muscles still hurt. But there’s something steadier in your limbs now. A warmth that didn’t exist back in that hospital bed.

Maybe it’s the sofa.

Maybe it’s the company.

There’s a knock at the door before it creaks open, and Debbie peers in, holding her keys in one hand, already half-prepared for the protest she knows is coming.

“Alright, Oliver. Time to come home, buddy.”

Oliver moans. “Noooo.”

You watch him deflate, the dramatic droop of his limbs, the way his small face crumples at the corners.

Debbie steps in, eyebrows lifted in that mom face that screams ‘don’t start’, yet her mouth is soft. She’s trying to keep it mild. “We’ve got to get you home. School in the morning. You know the rules.”

“I don’t care,” he mumbles, digging deeper into your side. “I want to stay here.”

You touch his back softly, your voice warm and quiet. “I know, little star.”

Oliver lifts his head, his bottom lip twitching. “What if she goes away again?”

His voice cracks at the end.

Mark sits up straighter. “Hey, hey…it’s not gonna be like that.”

Oliver rubs at his eyes but he’s weeping now, full and silent, the type of tears that don’t come with wailing but simply happen, like his heart’s been waiting for the room to slow down enough for it to be honest.

“I waited forever,” he continues, voice trembling. “You were gone forever, and I kept talking to you and drawing pictures and it didn’t work, and I thought maybe you were gone like Dad, but I didn’t say it out loud because I didn’t want it to be true-”

You reach for him instinctively, arms wrapping over his shoulders and drawing him in close, burying his head beneath your chin. His small hands grip at your hoodie like it’s the only thing preventing him from plummeting through the floor.

You rock softly, your fingers stroking through his hair.

“I’m not gone,” you mumble. “I’m right here. And I’m not going anywhere.”

He sniffles heavily. “But what if…what if something happens again? What if-”

“Then I’ll fight like hell to come back,” you reply, gently yet forceful. “Just like I did this time. Just like I’ll always do.”

Oliver cries a little harder into your chest.

Debbie stands calmly beside the entrance, one palm placed to her mouth, eyes sparkling. Mark doesn’t say anything, he simply observes, teeth tight, the muscles in his arms stiff like he wants to do something but knows this isn’t his moment.

“I’ll come see you tomorrow,” you assure Oliver softly. “Okay? I’ll come over first thing. You and me. All day.”

He sniffles again, pushing back slightly. “Really?”

“Really. Because we’ve got plans.”

He blinks. “Plans?”

“Oh yeah. Big plans. We’ve need to start looking for baby clothes. And a crib. And a tiny toy with stars and planets on it. You think I can do all that without my best helper?”

He shakes his head swiftly, eyes wide. “No. You need my expert opinion.”

“Exactly,” you say. “So tomorrow? You and me. We’ll go shopping, we’ll pick stuff out, and we’ll eat too many snacks and ignore every budget.”

Mark lifts an eyebrow. “I mean, within reason-”

You wave a hand. “Shush.”

Oliver eventually grins, little and crooked and still tear-glossed, but real. He nods, pushing his sleeve to his nose, then looks up at Debbie like ‘please don’t destroy this’.

Debbie comes over gently and crouches beside him.

She combs his bangs back. “You can bring one stuffed animal. Just one.”

He grins and wraps his arms around her neck.

They stand together, and she holds him for a long minute before gently moving him toward the door.

He doesn’t fight it this time.

But before they depart, he doubles back to you. One last hug. Tight.

You cling on just as passionately.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” you mumble.

He nods against your neck. “Don’t be late.”

When he lets go, he leaves a little painting on the coffee table, a doodle of you carrying a luminous baby, Mark standing alongside you in his hero outfit, Oliver flying above you with a cape.

The label written in all uppercase reads ‘TEAM FAMILY.’

Mark walks them out.

You stay on the couch, still nestled under the blanket, your chest both full and aching. The type of aching that only occurs as love starts to settle into something real.

The door clicks shut behind Debbie and Oliver, a soft metallic whisper as the latch catches. You watch Mark lock it, his fingers hesitating for a moment on the deadbolt before he turns, a shadow of something unreadable in his eyes. Tired, maybe. Or nervous. He always looks that way lately like he’s balancing too much in his hands and expecting the whole world to drop at any second. But then he looks at you.

And that flicker of worry breaks, like clouds tearing apart to make room for sun. It isn’t bright, not totally, Mark Grayson isn’t bright these days. He’s bruised and burnt out, stitched together with duty and regret. But when he looks at you, some of that darkness slips. It always does.

“You okay?” he asks, quietly, as if the room might break if he says it louder.

The apartment is quiet now, finally. Debbie has fussed over you until your bones ached in the hospital, from pretending you aren’t exhausted, and Oliver is, well, Oliver. Four months pregnant and still managing to make it through an hour of Grayson family chaos without snapping is practically heroic. But you do it. You always do.

You shift your weight on the couch, hand reflexively sliding over the soft swell of your belly. Four months. It still doesn’t feel real. Not even with the weight of it under your skin, not even with the nausea, the dreams, the shifts in your body that make you feel like a stranger in your own clothes. But the way Mark looks at you now, carefully, like you’re something he has to relearn every day, that is real. “I’m okay now,” you say, and mean it.

His eyes drift to your stomach. You catch the subtle clench in his jaw, he does that every time. Like some part of him doesn’t think he deserves this. Like he still expects to wake up and find all of it gone. You stand slowly. The soreness from your recovery is still there, but it doesn’t matter. You cross the room to him and reach up, letting your fingers graze the stubble on his cheek. Mark’s hands come up automatically, one brushing your hip, the other curling at your back. You lean into him, just enough to feel his warmth, his presence.

“You don’t have to ask if I’m okay every time you look at me,” you say, voice low.

He exhales through his nose, a wry half-laugh, like he knows he’s guilty but can’t stop himself. “Can’t help it.”

“Try.”

You close the distance between you, lips pressing to his before he can answer. Soft, at first, testing the moment, tasting the quiet. He stills for half a heartbeat, but then his mouth opens under yours, the kind of kiss that drags breath out of both of you. Mark kisses like a man afraid of losing time. Always has. Like he’s holding on for dear life, like if he kisses hard enough he can fix everything broken between you.

Your fingers tangle in his shirt, clutching it, tugging him closer. He doesn’t resist. You feel his hands slide lower, one splaying wide over your back, the other careful at your waist. Always careful now. Like he’s scared of hurting you.

You pull back just enough to whisper, “You don’t have to treat me like glass.”

His brows pull together,“You just got out of the hospital.”

You kiss him again before he can finish the thought, harder this time, until you feel his restraint crack beneath the surface. He makes a sound low in his throat, something hungry and quiet and aching. His hands tighten on your body.

“Still me,” you murmur against his lips.

Mark’s breath hitches. You see the way his pupils darken, blown wide, the blue of his eyes swallowed by want. “You’re four months pregnant,” he says, but it’s already unraveling in his voice. “And still me,” you repeat, pressing your hips into him.

His hands finally move like they used to, possessive, certain, roaming your back and your sides and pulling you against him like gravity is just a suggestion. You feel him hardening already, the heat between you both burning off the hesitations. He kisses you again, and this time there’s nothing gentle about it. His mouth devours yours, tongue sliding past your lips, hands gripping your ass through the thin fabric of your pajama pants.

You moan softly into him, and he groans in response like he’s been holding his breath for weeks and you’ve just cracked his ribs open to let the air in. His hand slides under your shirt, up the curve of your side, fingers skimming the underside of your breast before he hesitates again.

“Mark,” you say, voice raw, “touch me. Really touch me.”

He looks at you like you’ve just given him permission to breathe.

Then he picks you up. Just like that. Like you weigh nothing. He still has Viltrumite strength, after all. You yelp and laugh into his shoulder as he carries you toward the bedroom, kissing you between every few steps. Short, hungry things. As if he’s starved for this, starved for you.

The bedroom is dim, lit only by the blue spill of moonlight pushing past the blinds. Mark kicks the door shut with his heel, never pulling his mouth from yours, and you barely notice. You’re too wrapped in the heat of him, his hands firm on your back, the scent of him in your nose, the familiar weight of his body pressing into yours like a home you haven’t realized you’ve missed until you’re back in it. He kisses like he’s making up for lost time. For the hospital days, for the quiet silences when you were watching the movie, for all the ways he’s looked at you lately, gentle, too gentle, like you might break if he even breathes the wrong way. But this… this isn’t gentle.

This is Mark.

And you cling to it. Cling to him. To his warmth, the press of his chest, the scratch of his jaw along your throat as he breaks from your mouth and trails kisses down your neck.

He groans softly against your skin, hands spreading over your hips like he’s mapping familiar territory, though even you know your body isn’t the same. You’re not big yet, not even showing under clothes unless someone knows what to look for, but you know. You feel it. The tightness. The weight. The way your shirts hug differently now, the slight change in the slope of your waist, the tender spots that haven’t been there before.

And for a moment… as Mark kisses the soft skin beneath your jaw, his mouth warm and wanting, you freeze just a little inside.

He feels it. You know he does. He pulls back a fraction, just enough to meet your eyes, his brow knitting.

“What?” he asks, voice low, still breathless.

You shake your head. It’s instinct. Lie first. Explain later.

But he doesn’t let you. He leans his forehead against yours, and you feel that familiar ache behind his voice when he says, “Talk to me.”

You hesitate, fingers still curled around his muscular biceps. He’s solid under your touch, heat and muscle, all the strength he barely lets himself use anymore. You look at him, the sharp line of his jaw, the mess of dark hair falling across his forehead, the bright look of his azure eyes, and something twists tight in your chest.

“I just… I don’t look the same,” you admit. Quiet. Barely louder than a breath.

He stills.

Your hands drop from his arms. “I’m not big yet, but I can feel it. Everything’s changing. And I don’t-”

Mark kisses you hard. No warning, no pause. Just his mouth on yours again like he needs to shut you up with the truth, like words aren’t good enough anymore. He breaks the kiss just long enough to whisper, “You’re beautiful. You know that, right?”

You swallow.

“Even if you don’t see it yet,” he adds, and then, God, he smiles a little, the kind of rare, crooked grin that reaches all the way to his eyes. “I do.”

And before you can say anything, before you can fall too deep into whatever spiral your brain is trying to build out of hormones and fear and post-hospital trauma, Mark drops to his knees. Right in front of you.

Your breath hitches.

His hands come to your hips again, reverent now, as he presses his cheek lightly against your stomach. He doesn’t say anything for a long second. Just closes his eyes and breathes you in. The heat of his skin soaks through your shirt.

You touch his hair, tentative at first. Your fingers thread through the dark strands automatically, and his hands slowly slide down, gripping your thighs, steadying you. When he looks up, his eyes are darker than they were a moment ago. Focused. Hungry.

“Let me take care of you,” he murmurs.

You don’t answer. You don’t need to. The way you stand there, half shaking, heart pounding, shirt clinging to your chest from your own heat, that’s answer enough.

Mark’s hands curl into the waistband of your pajama pants. You lift your hips for him, slow and steady, and he peels them down along with your underwear. The air hits you first, cool on skin that feels overheated, soaked in want. He moves like he’s unwrapping something sacred, something breakable but his. When the fabric hits your knees, he leans in and kisses the soft skin of your lower belly then lower still, lips trailing just above your mound, hot breath ghosting across your clit.

You twitch. You can’t help it.

Then he kisses you there, right there, his mouth closing around your clit in a slow, obscene suck that pulls a choked sound straight out of your throat. It’s not polite, not soft. It’s hungry. A low growl vibrates against your cunt as his tongue slides out and circles you, wide and deliberate.

“Fuck,” you gasp, your knees nearly buckling. Mark grabs your thighs and spreads them wider, anchoring you to the bed. His grip is firm, a little rough, fingers digging in just enough to remind you what it feels like to be wanted without apology.

He groans into you again, like the taste is doing something to him, wrecking him. His tongue licks up your slit, slow and hot, collecting slick like he’s savoring every drop. Then he flattens it against your clit and just stays there, sucking and lapping until your hips are grinding into his mouth, chasing it. No teasing. No hesitation. Just pressure and rhythm and filthy, focused worship.

“God, Mark-” you whimper, hands clutching his hair like you’re afraid he might stop.

He doesn’t. He goes deeper, tongue dipping down to fuck into you, slow at first, then faster, fucking you with his mouth like he wants you to fall apart right there on his face. His nose bumps your clit, jaw working between your thighs, and the mess of it, his spit, your slick, the obscene sounds, makes you burn with it, humiliated and high on it all at once.

You glance down, his face buried in your pussy, eyes half-lidded and drunk on you, his hands stroking your thighs like he’s taming something wild, and the pressure coils sharp and unbearable in your stomach.

“Mark…fuck, I’m gonna-”

He moans like he wants you to. Like he’s waiting for it. And when he pulls back just enough to spit on your clit and suck it back into his mouth, you break. Your orgasm slams into you with no grace, no warning, your thighs shake, your whole body clenches, and your moan rips raw from your throat as everything inside you spills over.

He holds you through it, mouth still on you, tongue dragging every aftershock out like he’s milking you for more. You sob his name. He groans in reply, licking you through every twitch, every tremble, like he needs this as much as you do.

Only when your body finally goes limp does he pull back, lips wet, chin shining with you. He looks up at you from between your legs, chest rising, eyes burning.

“Still think you’re not fucking perfect?” he rasps, voice thick with lust and something softer beneath it.

You laugh through the haze, wrecked and ruined. “Shut the fuck up.”

He grins like a man starved.

And he stands.

Not done.

Not even close.

Your thighs are still spread wide, your cunt glistening, flushed and messy with slick. Mark’s between them again, kneeling at the edge of the bed, jeans pushed low on his hips, shirt long since forgotten. His chest rises and falls like he just ran a marathon, but his eyes, those wide, dark, awe-drunk blue eyes, stay locked between your legs.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he mutters, his voice rasped raw. “You’re still dripping. Still soaked.”

His fingers brush your inner thigh, smearing through the slick that’s smeared all over your skin. He stares like you’ve completely short-circuited him, jaw slack, lips parted. “Did I do that?” he murmurs, almost not even asking, more like wondering out loud if he actually gets to take credit for the mess between your legs.

You nod, breath shaky, cunt pulsing around nothing.

“Yeah,” you pant. “All you.”

And fuck, that does something to him. He bites his bottom lip like he’s trying to keep himself from shaking. But his fingers, those strong, careful hands, are already moving, sliding back up between your thighs, and this time he doesn’t hesitate. His fingertips glide over your slit, parting you gently, then dragging up to your clit in one long, slick stroke.

Your body jolts like you’ve been hit with live wire.

Mark groans deep, watching his fingers stroke you, watching your body react. “You’re fucking soaking my hand,” he says, more breath than voice. “I can feel you throbbing, fuck, I’m not even inside yet and you’re already fucking begging for it.”

He rubs your clit with slow, deliberate circles, watching your hips twitch upward, your cunt flexing, leaking more slick with every pass of his hand. Then, like he can’t take one more second, he shifts closer and pushes two fingers deep inside you without warning.

You cry out loud, gutturalc and he moans right with you, like the way your walls clamp down on him is too much, too fucking good.

“Holy shit, holy shit,” Mark pants, jaw tight, fingers buried to the knuckle. “You’re tight as fuck, fucking sucking me in.”

He starts moving his hand, fucking you slow at first, deliberate, each thrust slick and obscene, his knuckles slicked with how much you’re dripping. He watches like he’s hypnotized, like every little sound your pussy makes when he curls his fingers inside you is rewiring his brain.

Your cunt clenches around him again and he groans, eyes fluttering. “You feel that? You’re fucking pulsing, I can feel your pussy clenching around my fingers like it’s trying to milk them.”

His thumb finds your clit again and he presses down, starts rubbing tight, dirty circles as his fingers fuck deeper. The rhythm’s building now wet, messy, filthy, and the sounds are loud, your breathless gasps, your pussy squelching with every thrust, the bed creaking as your hips grind down into his palm.

“Mark…fuck-”

Your voice breaks and it wrecks him. He leans in, close, mouth hovering over your stomach, your tits, your neck but he doesn’t kiss. He’s breathing too hard, sweating, trembling like he’s barely hanging on.

“Come on, baby,” he groans, voice thick. “Let me feel you come. I need it. Fucking drown my hand, come on, show me how messy this little pussy can get.”

You feel the orgasm coil tight in your gut, every muscle pulling taut, your cunt squeezing around his fingers like it knows what’s coming. You grab at the sheets, nails clawing at the fabric, legs starting to shake.

“Mark! I’m gonna-”

He thrusts his fingers deeper, rougher, grinding his thumb down on your clit like he wants to force it out of you. And it works.

You break.

The orgasm rips through you, brutal and blinding. You scream his name as your body convulses, your pussy clamping down hard around his fingers as you come, slick squirting out around his hand, soaking his wrist, dripping onto the sheets.

Mark groans like he’s coming from it himself. “Fuck yes, fuck, look at that…God, baby, fuck-”

He keeps moving his fingers as you ride it out, slowing only when your hips jerk away from him, too sensitive, too raw. You’re twitching, legs trembling, body wrecked, and he finally eases his fingers out, soaked and glistening.

He stares at them like he’s just been baptized.

Then he brings them to his mouth.

And sucks them clean.

His eyes close. He moans deep in his chest, licking every drop off like he needs it.

And you’re still spread for him, cunt wrecked and leaking, body pulsing in the afterglow.

And then he looks down at you, completely wrecked, still breathing heavy, your legs spread for him, your body hot and ready, and whispered, “You ready for me now?”

You catch his gaze and nod.

Mark bends down again, kissing you tenderly once, then deep, tongue tracing your lower lip before he draws back, lines himself up with you again, and starts to press inside.

Mark pushes into you slow, agonizingly slow, the thick head of his cock splitting you open inch by inch. The stretch is brutal, sweet, the kind of pain that makes your toes curl and your mouth fall open in a gasp. He groans loud at the first squeeze of your cunt around him, fingers digging into the sheets like he’s trying not to lose it already.

“Fuck… fuck, you’re tight,” he chokes out, forehead dropping to your shoulder. “Holy shit, you’re gripping me.”

You grab at him, shoulders, back, arms, anything solid to keep you grounded as he sinks deeper. It feels like he’s everywhere, thick and hot and hard as steel, the pressure building as your walls stretch around him, slick and pulsing. You’re soaked for him, and he feels it, he moans at the obscene wet sound of your pussy swallowing him whole.

Every inch he gives you is fire, and you take it like you’re starved, hips rolling up to meet him, greedy, desperate. Your body clenches, and he gasps again, voice cracking. He’s trembling above you, arms taut, sweat slicking his chest as he fights every instinct telling him to thrust.

“I-fuck, I can’t-” he groans. “You feel too fucking good. I’m barely in and I already wanna come.”

You turn your head, lips brushing the shell of his ear, voice a rasp. “You don’t have to hold back.”

He lifts his head, looking down at you, his hair hanging in his face, blue eyes blown wide with something close to panic. “I don’t wanna hurt you.”

You lock your legs around his waist, arching into him, cunt flexing around the thick base of his cock. “Then don’t. Just fuck me.”

And that breaks him.

He pulls back, just enough for the stretch to hit again, then slams forward, burying himself to the base with a sharp, wet slap. You cry out, eyes rolling back as your walls clamp down hard. He groans like he’s dying, hips jerking once, then again, harder, rougher.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he groans, gripping your hips, slamming into you again. “You’re so fucking wet, so full, you’re taking it. God, baby, you’re taking this cock like you fucking need it-”

And you do. Your whole body is tuned to him, to the drag of his cock along your walls, the sting of every deep thrust. He pounds into you like he’s making up for lost time, weeks of wanting, of holding back, of not being able to touch you the way he needed to. It’s all crashing down now.

The bed rocks under you, frame creaking, the slap of skin-on-skin brutal and constant. Mark fucks you with everything, hips snapping, muscles straining, teeth gritted as he watches your tits bounce with every thrust. His voice is wrecked, raw.

“Look at you,” he moans, driving in deep. “You love this, don’t you? Love how deep I get? How hard I fuck you?”

You moan, high and helpless, cunt fluttering around him. “Yes, fuck, yes—don’t stop—don’t you fucking dare—”

His hands are everywhere, your waist, your throat, your thighs, holding you open, pressing you down, gripping like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he lets go. He leans in, forehead pressed to yours, sweat dripping from his temple as he fucks into you harder, rougher, his cock pistoning in and out of your soaked cunt with filthy, relentless rhythm.

You’re soaked, dripping, loud and messy. The air smells like sweat, sex, like him. The heat between your bodies is suffocating.

“Gonna fill you up,” Mark grits, voice shaking. “Gonna fucking breed this pussy—watch it drip out after—watch it leak down your thighs—fuck—you want that? You want my cum inside you?” “Yes—God, yes—give it to me, please—”

Your orgasm hits with no warning, just a violent, overwhelming wave. Your body seizes, back arching off the mattress as you scream, pussy clenching hard around his cock, milking him. You soak the sheets beneath you, your cunt spasming, gushing around him.

Mark snaps.

He slams in one last time, deep as he can get, and stays there, grinding his hips as he empties himself, cock twitching, thick ropes of cum spilling inside you with each pulsing throb. He gasps your name, over and over, forehead pressed to yours, his whole body shuddering with the force of it.

And he stays. Buried in your cunt, chest heaving, sweat dripping from his skin to yours. He’s still hard, still thick, his cum already starting to leak out around the base of his cock where your pussy refuses to let him go.

He kisses you. Messy. Open-mouthed. Desperate.

Then softer. Softer still.

“You okay?” he whispers, voice frayed, breath catching.

You smile, lips brushing his. “I’m so fucking perfect right now.”

And for once, Mark Grayson isn’t holding up the universe.

Mark stays inside you, still buried deep, breath ragged against your mouth, his forehead pressed to yours. His chest is slick with sweat, his heart pounding like a drum against your ribs. You feel him twitch inside you, softening slowly, but not completely, not even close. Your cunt clenches reflexively, like your body’s refusing to let him go.

There’s cum leaking out of you already, hot and thick, drooling around where he’s still stuffed full inside. You’re sore and used and aching in the best way, legs still wrapped tight around his waist, fingers dragging through the sweat on his back.

He doesn’t say anything for a long second. Just breathes. Heavy. Shaky. Holding you like the second he moves, he’s going to fall apart.

You turn your face slightly and press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “We’re not done yet, are we?”

He exhales, lets out this wrecked laugh that’s almost a gasp, and looks at you. His eyes are blown wide. Not scared now, just undone. You can see it in him, the way he’s gripping you like he’s still catching up to the fact that he gets to have you again.

“I… I don’t think I can be,” he says quietly. “I’ve been trying to do the right thing. Give you space. Be careful. And now that I’ve got you like this, now that I’m… in you-” He shakes his head, voice going rough. “God, I don’t want to stop.”

He buries his face in your neck and groans low when you shift beneath him. Your pussy clenches down again, and he groans, the sound muffled against your skin.

“You feel…Jesus, you still feel so good.”

He’s getting hard again. You feel it. The stretch returns gradually, your cunt welcoming the thickening length inside like it never wanted him to leave. You reach between you, wrap your hand around him where your bodies are joined, slick, warm, soaked in his cum, and you feel the way he swells against your palm.

You murmur into his ear, “We’ve got months to make up for. So go ahead, Mark. Take me again.”

He lifts his head and stares down at you. His face is flushed, eyes intense, jaw tight.

“You sure?” he asks. “I mean… I’m already kind of going again, but if you’re not okay-”

“I’m not breaking,” you tell him. “You need me? Then take me.”

That’s it.

He kisses you, hard. No hesitation. Just tongue and heat and need, like he can’t decide what part of you to grab first. His hips pull back, cock dragging out of you slow, heavy with slick, then he thrusts back in. Deeper. Harder. His breath leaves him in a shudder.

“Shit,” he gasps. “Okay. Okay.”

Mark starts to move faster, thrusting with no hesitation now, no restraint. The bed creaks under the rhythm of it, your body pushed into the mattress with every thrust. He doesn’t pull back far, he stays close, keeps you tight to his chest, one hand gripping your thigh, the other buried in your hair, holding you to his mouth like he needs every inch of you pressed to him to stay sane.

“I missed this,” he says into your skin, voice shaking. “I missed you. I missed being this close. Missed the sounds you make. Missed how your body feels wrapped around me. I just… I didn’t know how much I needed it until right now.”

You moan, loud, legs tightening around his hips. Your nails dig into his back, your cunt fluttering around him, hot and soaked and aching.

“You feel so good,” he says again, groaning as he thrusts deep. “Every part of you.”

Your body is already tensing, your clit dragging against his pelvis every time he drives in deep. Your breath catches. Your thighs shake.

“You close?” he murmurs into your neck. “You’re squeezing me. I can feel it. You gonna come again?”

You nod fast, panting, unable to even get the words out.

He kisses you, sloppy, breathless, and starts to fuck you harder, thrusts sharper, less controlled. His voice breaks again. “Come on. Let go. I wanna feel you. I wanna feel you all over me.”

It only takes a few more thrusts before you’re falling apart under him, your orgasm slamming through you like a freight train. You gasp his name, back arching, pussy gripping his cock tight as the world narrows to nothing but Mark and the heat inside you.

Mark groans loud, hips stuttering as he buries himself to the hilt. “Oh God. Oh fuck-”

You feel him come again, cock twitching, spilling deep. His whole body shakes with it, his breath coming in sharp bursts against your cheek. He presses into you, still inside, still pulsing, like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if there’s even an inch of space between you.

Neither of you speak for a while. Just breathing. Bodies tangled. Skin slick. Hearts pounding against each other.

Eventually, he lifts his head just enough to kiss your cheek, then your lips, and finally your forehead.

“I can’t believe I made myself wait this long,” he says softly. “That I convinced myself it was better to stay away from you.”

You smile, your fingers trailing down his sweat-slick back. “You were scared.”

“Yeah,” he says. “Still am.”

“Well,” you whisper, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, your legs still hooked around his waist, “keep fucking me like that, and I’ll help you forget.”

You feel it. The slow pulse. The twitch.

Mark meets your eyes, his grin crooked, face wrecked and flushed.

Your body is still pulsing around him, slow and deep, every lazy flutter of your cunt refusing to let him go. You’re soaked, skin slick, thighs trembling, your hair plastered to your forehead with sweat. The room reeks of sex and heat and the mess of him inside you, thick and warm and still leaking out in heavy, wet drips. His cum is everywhere, smearing between your thighs, pooling beneath your ass, slicking your folds where he’s still buried to the hilt in you.

You don’t move. You’re too full, too sensitive, and honestly? You don’t want to. You’re locked in his lap, straddling his hips, your legs barely able to hold their own weight. Your pussy is aching, used, stretched open and stuffed full of him and you still feel greedy for more.

Mark leans back against the headboard, still panting. His chest rises hard under yours, and his heart’s beating wild, pounding against your ribs like it’s trying to crawl into your skin. His arms are tight around your waist, one hand still spread wide at the small of your back like he’s afraid you’ll float off if he lets go. But you’re not going anywhere.

You shift, just a little. Just enough to feel the thick slide of his cock inside you. He twitches. Both of you groan, his from the overstimulation, yours from the raw friction across swollen, overstretched walls. You gasp softly. He winces like the sound physically hits him.

He’s still inside you. Still hot. Still thick. You can feel him getting harder again, his cock swelling back to full inside your soaked, cum-stuffed cunt. Your body reacts instantly. Your walls flutter, clench, tighten around him like a reflex you don’t even control.

You pull back just enough to look at him.

His hair is a mess, wild and damp, hanging over his forehead. His face is flushed, lips parted, jaw tight like he’s barely holding himself together. His pupils are blown so wide you can barely see the blue anymore. But it’s the look in his eyes that gets you.

That raw, open need. That helpless hunger. Like he wants to ask if it’s okay to touch you again but doesn’t trust himself not to just do it.

“Still with me?” you ask, breathless, voice wrecked but light.

Mark just stares at you like he’s not sure if you’re real. His voice is hoarse when it finally comes out, and it’s low, honest, unfiltered. “Yeah. I… I’m here. I just…” His breath catches. “I don’t think I’ve ever needed anything like I need you right now.”

You kiss him, slow, deep, mouths open and heavy with the taste of sweat and breath. As your hips start to grind, you feel his cock pulse hard inside you, and you both moan, him from the friction, you from the delicious pressure of him dragging along your raw inner walls. Your body welcomes the weight, the heat, the slow, building stretch.

It’s different now. No tight snap, no sting. Just the deep, aching fullness of being fucked open and used and still wanting more.

You roll your hips forward, dragging your clit against the base of his cock, and feel his whole body shudder. His head falls back against the headboard, jaw clenched, breath hissing through his teeth.

“You’re seriously gonna kill me,” he mutters, voice ragged.

“Not planning on it,” you murmur back, hot against his throat. “Lie back.”

He shifts down the bed, moving slow, careful not to slide out. You feel every inch of him stay deep as he settles. You brace your hands on his chest, solid and warm beneath your palms, heart still pounding fast, and start to move.

Just a little. Just enough.

Your hips grind forward, then roll back, keeping him inside, making him feel every soaked ridge of your cunt, dragging his cock through slick and heat and the slow throb of your body. Your thighs tremble from the effort, but you like the ache. You like the stretch. The soreness. The way you can still feel his cum leaking out with every motion.

Mark’s hands slide up from your hips, slow, reverent, like he’s relearning your body all over again. He palms your waist, your ribs, thumbs brushing the swell of your breasts but not groping, just holding. His eyes don’t leave the place where your body’s taking him again, where your cunt splits open to swallow him whole.

“I missed this,” he says, voice low and rough. “Not just the sex. I missed you. Missed the way you look on top of me.”

You move faster.

You start to bounce, slow but deeper, rising until just his tip sits inside you, then dropping back down and taking him all the way, the slick sound of it echoing off the walls. You both groan, loud and raw, breathless.

The pace builds. Your thighs start to slap against his, harder with each bounce. His cock grinds deep, bottoming out in you again and again. Your clit drags against his pelvis with every thrust, sending sharp bursts of pleasure through your spine.

“Faster,” he breathes. “Please—just—ride me. I need it. I need you.”

You obey.

Your hips slap down, bouncing harder, faster, the sound of it loud and messy and perfect. Mark groans under you, head tipped back, voice gone ragged.

You lean forward again, grab his face in both hands, press your forehead to his. “Look at me,” you whisper, your breath catching. “I’m gonna come again. I want you to watch.”

His eyes snap to yours. “I’m right here,” he says. “I’ve got you. Always.”

You come.

It hits hard, your back arches, your voice breaks, your cunt clamps down around him in tight, shuddering waves. You cry out, grinding down on him, feeling your slick flood around his cock as your whole body seizes up, trembling through the crash.

And Mark falls with you.

His hands grip your waist hard, and he fucks up into you from below, wild, desperate, thrusting as deep as he can go. His voice tears out of him.

“I’m coming—fuck—I’m coming, baby, fuck—”

He slams into you one last time and holds himself there, cock pulsing inside you as he fills you again, thick and hot and endless. You feel it pour into you, the pressure building as his cum spills past his cock and runs down your thighs.

You collapse against his chest, both of you gasping. He wraps his arms around you, tighter than before, face pressed into your neck like he needs to hide in your skin.

Neither of you moves.

You’re both soaked. Still joined. His cock still hard inside your fluttering, raw cunt.

Mark’s arms lingered around you, his hold just strong enough to make you feel confined in the greatest way, like you were something delicate, something precious he couldn’t bear to let go of. His chest was still rising fast against yours, pulse hammering into your face, and you could feel the weight of all three of your orgasms, his, heavy and deep inside you, yours, pulsating and still reverberating through your limbs, settling over the room like heat trapped under the covers.

The air smells like sex. The headboard’s left small dents in the drywall. Your thighs are a mess, and so is the bed. And still, neither of you moves.

You adjust your hips just slightly and grimace at the oversensitive glide of his cock still buried deep inside you. Mark kisses your temple quickly, catching the glimmer of agony in your breath. “You okay?” he asks, gentler now. Like he’s coming back down to earth.

“Yeah,” you murmur, leaning your forehead to his jaw. “Just… really full. And really sore.”

He lets out a breath of a chuckle, nuzzling into your hair. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” You smile. “I wanted it.”

“I think you’re gonna be feeling it all day tomorrow,” he mutters, tracing a hand slowly down your back, fingertips just brushing your spine. You shiver. His cock has softened now, but it’s still thick and warm inside you, tethering you together. He’s not in a rush to move, and neither are you.

The calm stretches. Your cheek rests in the hollow of his throat, eyes fluttering closed. His fingers wander at your waist, up your ribs, not teasing, just present, like he needs the contact to stay grounded. Like you’re his anchor.

It feels nice. Too nice. Like the rest of the world doesn’t exist beyond the rim of the mattress.

But it still does.

“Tomorrow,” you whisper, voice low and warm in the hush.

He hums. “Yeah.”

“We’re picking up Oliver, remember? Gotta take him to the baby shop in the city.” You grin, part amused, part already exhausted. “We promised.”

Mark moans under his breath, not annoyed just resigned. “He’s gonna touch everything.”

“He’s excited,” you say, lazily tracing a circle on his chest. “It’s a big deal for him too.”

Mark nods, his hand slowing on your back. “He keeps asking if it’s gonna have powers. Like there’s a test we can do or something.”

You laugh, quiet and breathless. “What’d you tell him?”

“I said we won’t know ‘til he throws something across the room.” He grins into your hair. “Or punches through a wall.”

You breathe against his skin, and for a minute, you both just lie there, wrapped in the afterglow, tangled in the wreckage of want. The day ahead lingers at the edges. Baby things. Oliver. Appointments. Names. Exhaustion.

Mark’s hand slides down your thigh, where it’s still draped over his hip. “We need a car seat.”

“And a bassinet.”

“And diapers. And bottles. And those… what are they called, the swinging chairs that play that weird carnival music?”

You moan into his chest. “Mark. We’re gonna be in that store for hours.”

He grins, mouth grazing your neck. “You’ll have to stop me from impulse-buying everything cute I see.”

You shift just enough to look at him, his eyes half-lidded, cheeks pink, hair stuck to his forehead. He looks young. Tired. But light. Like some pressure’s finally eased off his ribs. Like you’ve given him breath again.

You lean down and kiss him, soft and slow, lips barely brushing.

“We’re gonna be okay,” you whisper.

He kisses you back, hand settling over your belly, warm, steady.

“We already are.”

The next day starts with a knock.

Just a soft, familiar rhythm on the doorframe, yet it makes both of you pause like kids caught doing something they shouldn’t. For a second, your brain blanks, no ideas, no psychic impressions, just the raw, instinctive scrambling of someone who is both emotionally and physically destroyed and not ready to see anybody.

Mark moans low into your shoulder. He doesn’t move his head from where it's been buried for the previous twenty minutes. His arms are still wrapped around your waist like they’d rather stay there for the rest of time, your naked legs tangled together under the blankets, the air thick with the silent, lingering aroma of last night.

“Do we have to get up?” His voice is hoarse. Sleep-rough and damaged and definitely Mark.

You sigh, pushing your face against his temple. “That sounded like a Debbie knock.”

Another set of taps, more persistent this time.

Mark growls softly beneath his breath and pulls away just enough to peek toward the door, eyes still hazy, hair a disarray. “I forgot we said they could come by.”

You blink up at the ceiling and sigh. “I forgot people exist.”

There’s something absurdly vulnerable about this morning. Not just the fact that you’re both still fully nude and only now realize how painful your thighs are, or how your lips are puffy from the sheer amount of kissing you performed before, during, and after. It’s the emotional hangover. The weight of having grabbed each other like lifelines last night, trying to tell yourselves that you were still real, still here, still living after everything.

After hospitals and near-deaths and muttered apologies between shared breaths.

Now you’re here. Pregnant, four months in. In Mark’s bed. In Mark’s life.

And beyond that door is the boy who’s latched onto you like a newborn duckling since the minute you returned from the hospital, and the lady who looks at you with something like cautious optimism and careful devotion, like she’s still trying to trust you’re not going to disappear again.

You pull the blanket up over your chest and nudge Mark. “You have two options. Get the door and face the music, or pretend to be dead.”

He slumps back down alongside you dramatically. “Option three. Cuddle you until they give up and leave.”

There’s another knock, followed by a voice this time.

“Mark? It’s us. We brought breakfast!”

You wince. “They brought food. We’re screwed.”

Mark groans softly like a savage animal trapped in a net, wiping his hands over his face before forcing himself upright, the sheet dropping down his stomach. You try not to look, but you fail terribly. His back muscles flex as he sits up on the side of the bed, running a hand through his wavy hair, and you realize your heart rate has not, in fact, recovered from last night.

You draw the cover tightly about yourself as he puts on a sweater and sweatpants in record time, feet still bare. Before he goes out, he turns to you, his demeanor softening as he leans down and plants a long kiss to your temple.

“Stay right here. I’ll try to stall them.”

You offer him a weary grin. “Tell Oliver I’m sleeping. Maybe he’ll panic and be quiet for the rest of the morning.”

Mark grins despite himself and slips out the door.

You can hear the muted chorus from the living room, Oliver’s high-pitched voice yelling “MARK!” with frantic delight, followed by the sound of Debbie greeting him and some shuffling that sounds like luggage being deposited on the kitchen counter. The fragrance of something warm and delicious wafts down the corridor, and your stomach rumbles automatically.

Your legs feel heavy as you swing them out from the blankets. The room is dim, bathed in gentle light pouring through the curtains, and you’re still aching in ways you didn’t know were conceivable. But it’s a nice sore. A reminder of yesterday night’s urgency. Of how Mark held you like he needed to memorize the contour of you. How frantic and sloppy and serious he was when he touched you, whispering I missed you, I missed you so much between kisses like the words were sacrosanct.

You put on one of his old shirts off the floor, soft, and slightly smelling of him, and pad your way toward the door just in time to hear Debbie’s voice, calm and softly amused.

“You both look like you got hit by a truck.”

Mark snorts. “Thanks, Mom.”

Oliver’s voice rips through: “Where is she? Did she sleep over? Is she here? Is the baby okay?”

There’s a pause. Then a smaller voice, more hesitant “She didn’t leave again, right?”

That’s enough to make you move faster.

You stroll out into the hallway, and Oliver’s face brightens up the second he sees you. He abandons whatever donut he was carrying and races across the room to slam into you at full speed. You kneel reflexively and grab him, arms closing around the small tornado of a child who’s strangely much more bonded to you after your hospital stay than before.

“I missed you,” he whispers against your shoulder. “I had a dream you turned into a ghost and flew away.”

You swallow hard, softly caressing his back. “I’m not going anywhere, little star.”

Mark looks across at you from the kitchen, eyes heated with something thick and ineffable. His voice is softer now. “She’s staying.”

Debbie watches the whole conversation with a particular gentleness. Her lips are twisted in a knowing smile, yet there’s a spark of something in her eyes, relief, maybe. Or thankfulness. Or both.

You suppose she saw straight through both of you last night when she departed. She’s known Mark since birth. She must’ve noticed the shift. The unsaid connection that settled between the two of you when you sat together on that couch, when you didn’t let go of each other’s hands even after Oliver climbed into your lap.

Now she nods toward the table. “We brought pancakes. Oliver asked if he buy the ones with the blueberries inside.”

Mark rolls his eyes. “He said they were brain food.”

“They are,” Oliver maintains. “She needs them because her brain is psychic. So it’s extra.”

You grin. “Can’t argue with that logic.”

The four of you sit down together, and for a short time, it’s surprisingly normal. Warm food. Casual discussion. Oliver asks a million questions about how the baby eats and whether it can hear him yet and if it will be able to fly.

But behind it all, there’s a delicate, flickering peace. A moment suspended in time.

Mark’s foot touches yours under the table.

You peek over at him. He looks fatigued but grounded in a manner you haven’t seen in a long time. Like last night pulled something out of him and filled it with something better.

He’s not simply surviving anymore. He’s starting to live again. With you.

You lean into his side as he puts an arm around your shoulder, and as Oliver chatters about naming the kid "Laser Arm" and Debbie conceals her giggle behind her coffee cup, you let yourself breathe.

In this small apartment that smells like sugar and second chances, you are protected.

You are adored.

You are home.

Mark insists on assisting you into the passenger seat like you’re glass.

It’s not that you can’t open your own stupid car door, you remind him of that regularly, especially now that you’re four months pregnant and not, in fact, made of porcelain, but he does it nonetheless, every time. And maybe you’re secretly starting to like it. The way his hand creeps over your lower back, delicate and steady. The way he always waits for you to settle before shutting the door, like he’s making sure you don’t vanish again when he blinks.

“Seatbelt,” he whispers as he leans into your open window, voice sweet and seductive.

“You say that like I haven’t been buckling myself in since I was five.”

He bends forward and kisses your cheek anyhow. “Old habits. And I appreciate having excuses to go this close.”

You roll your eyes, but your smile is tough to disguise.

He jogs around the front of the car and jumps into the driver’s seat, and you watch him through the glass as he runs a hand through his curls, sunshine catching in the strands. He looks like himself today. No blood. No bruises. No weight of the world on his shoulders, at least not overtly.

The rear door snaps open and slams shut with an echoing thump, followed by Oliver’s high-pitched voice.

“I get the seat behind her!”

Mark pauses halfway through adjusting the mirror. “Wait, what? I thought you said I’m your favorite.”

“No,” Oliver says matter-of-factly, as if he’s rattling out scientific realities. “She’s is my favorite. You’re noisy and you fly weird.”

Your snort is badly veiled. Mark gives you a betrayed expression.

“Excuse me?” Mark turns in his seat, brows arched. “I do not fly weird.”

“You do! You go like whoosh-” Oliver shows by thrashing his arms like a fish gasping for air mid-air, his face a concentrated chaos of sound effects and fluttering sleeves. “It’s all zig-zaggy. It makes my tummy feel funny when you carry me.”

“That’s called evasive maneuvering!” Mark protests. “It’s for safety!”

“Yeah, well, she floats. She makes the air all quiet and fluffy like a marshmallow.”

You raise your eyebrows, turning to peek at Mark. “He’s got a point.”

Mark throws his hands up. “Unbelievable. Mutiny.”

Oliver pushes forward between the chairs, rubbing his chin against your shoulder like a small dog. “Can I sit behind you?”

You gaze at Mark with mock earnestness. “Are you okay relinquishing your throne?”

Mark grumbles as he starts the car. “It’s fine. I’m just the superhero. Go ahead and steal my family.”

Oliver jumps back into the middle seat with all the assurance of a monarch in a booster seat. He clicks his belt with a triumphant grunt and kicks his small legs gleefully. “Can we play music? But not Mark’s music. He listens to old stuff.”

Mark lifts a hand like he’s swearing an oath. “It’s classic rock, thank you.”

“You’re classic. Like a fossil.”

Mark glances at you, wide-eyed. “You hear this? You hear the hatred in my own car?”

You rest your head against the cool glass of the window, smirking. “I don’t know, babe. The fossil’s got a point. We should play something fun.”

“You’re all against me,” he groans, despondent, as he taps at the console. “What do the kids want these days?”

Oliver hops in his seat and suggests a childish song.

And so you spend the next seven minutes going to the store with a cartoon boy singing about friendship and portals booming through the speakers while Mark looks like he wants to crash the car into oncoming traffic just to escape the chorus. Oliver is yelling the words at the top of his lungs, throwing in theatrical hand motions for emphasis, while you grin behind your palm and try not to allow your own pleasure grow too evident.

But you’re happy. Genuinely. Not in the way you sometimes pretend to be, not in the way you feel when you’re shoving feelings to the side to focus on surviving, no, this is different. This is warm, and lively, and whole.

Mark glances at you when he thinks you’re not looking. He does that sometimes. Like he still can’t believe you’re here. Like he’s expecting to wake up and find himself alone in that apartment again, snuggled up in bed with nothing but your pillow and the ghost of your laugh ringing in the quiet.

When you catch his gaze this time, he grins. Soft. Real.

“Hey,” he says, above Oliver’s manic karaoke performance. “You good?”

You nod. “Better than good.”

And he leans over, squeezes your hand once before letting go.

When you arrive to the store, it’s quite cool. No fans, no pandemonium, no aliens invading mid-shopping expedition. Mark manages to park without accidently hitting anything, a miracle in itself, and Oliver scrambles out of the car like he’s ready to embark on the biggest quest of his life.

“Can I push the cart?” he begs, hopping in place.

Mark lifts an eyebrow. “You can’t even see over the handle.”

“I can if I stand on the little bar!”

You giggle and slip your arm around Mark’s. “Maybe we can both help. It’s your nephew’s cart now, after all.”

“Nephew,” Oliver repeats, testing the word in his tongue like it’s completely new. He glances at your stomach with strained brows. “That makes me important, right?”

“Very,” you remark, pressing your palm to your bump. “The baby’s gonna need you.”

Oliver moves closer, eyes wide with somber duty. “Hey, baby. I’m your uncle. I’m going teach you how to punch evil dudes and eat cereal.”

Mark makes a strangled noise next you, and you elbow him softly in the ribs.

Inside the shop, things are slower. Domestic. You hold the list, Mark pulls the cart (with Oliver supervising), and aisle after aisle, you pick out the parts of your future. Blankets. A nursery set you both keep going back to even though you act like you're not already in love with it.

Mark continues stealing peeks at you when you handle the baby clothing. He never says anything, but his hand always finds yours, grounded, warm. It’s as if he's terrified you'll weep, or vanish, or both. But you don't. Not today.

And maybe it's ridiculous. Maybe it's simply a usual morning. But after everything, all you've gone through, everything you're still suffering from, it feels like something sacred.

The calm delight of simply being.

Of being liked.

Of belonging.

And as Oliver hurls a pack of glow-in-the-dark pacifiers into the cart with a triumphant cry, Mark merely exhales a chuckle and throws an arm around your waist.

“This,” he breathes, chin stroking your temple, “is exactly what I wanted.”

You don’t say anything.

You simply lean in closer.

Because you want it too.

The nursery takes shape slowly. Not all at once, not in some picture-perfect montage of paint-splattered laughter and pristine Pinterest layouts, but in pieces, real, imperfect, human ones. It starts with you sitting on the floor with your legs crossed, sorting through tiny clothes while Mark struggles to assemble the crib. He’s muttering curses under his breath as wooden slats and metal screws betray him for the third time in a row, his hoodie speckled with lilac paint, his hair stuck to his forehead with sweat.

“You’re holding the instructions upside down,” you say without looking up.

He pauses. Then flips the manual in his hands with a sheepish grunt. “Still think we should’ve just hired someone.”

“I told you I could’ve done it with my powers.”

“And I told you I’d rather you not accidentally bend the crib into a pretzel and send it through a wall.”

You smirk, folding a baby onesie with a cute message in blocky letters. “Only happened once.”

“And we’re still missing that bookshelf.”

It’s slow. It’s messy. There are days when Mark has to leave mid-screwdriver twist because a monsters crawling through downtown or the Guardians need him, and he comes home with dirt on his boots and an apology in his eyes. But he always finishes what he starts. And over time, the room transforms.

Oliver helps too. Or tries to.

He draws a crude “Welcome Nephew” sign and tapes it proudly to the nursery door, complete with sparkles, questionable spelling, and what you think might be a rocket ship but could also be a toaster. You keep it anyway. You frame it. He insists on picking out stuffed animals and ends up with a collection of the weirdest things you’ve ever seen, a glow-in-the-dark octopus, a grumpy-looking bat, a sloth wearing a cape.

“Every baby needs weird stuff,” he says. “That’s how you grow strong.”

Months pass like water.

You feel your son long before you meet him. He kicks. He stirs. He shifts under your ribs like he’s dancing to music only he can hear. Mark talks to your belly every night, reading comics and giving dramatic voices to every character, even the side ones. Sometimes he’ll rest his hand over your bump and just go quiet. Not because he’s out of things to say, but because he’s overwhelmed by how much he wants to say.

And Oliver, he grows faster than you can keep up with.

Twelve years old comes too fast. He’s taller, leaner, all limbs and opinions, and his voice cracks when he talks too fast. His hair won’t stay down no matter what Debbie does, and he still manages to look both awkward and heroic at the same time when he tries to help you carry groceries or watches over you like a hawk whenever you get too quiet.

He still insists on being involved in everything.

He pokes his head into the nursery one evening, watching Mark finish putting up the mobile, little plush planets and rocket ships. “So when do I get to teach him stuff?”

Mark smirks. “Like what?”

Oliver leans against the doorframe like he’s been rehearsing this. “Like how to throw a punch and how to hide cookies under your bed without anyone noticing.”

You raise a brow. “Anything else?”

“And… how to take care of people,” Oliver says a little quieter, looking at you now. “I’ll be his uncle. That’s important.”

It lands heavier than you expect. The way he says it. Like he’s giving himself a job. Like this baby already means something sacred to him.

And it does.

The day of the birth is nothing like the movies.

There’s no soft filter over your vision, no ethereal glow or peaceful pushing. There is pain. Unrelenting, blinding pain. There is screaming. And most of it is yours.

Mark has been holding your hand since the contractions started, at home, in the car, all the way into the hospital, but now that it’s real, now that you’re mid-labor with the lights too bright and the nurse asking you to breathe, you turn your fury on him.

“I HATE YOU!”

Mark blinks, wide-eyed, caught between trying to be supportive and trying not to cry. “Okay. Yeah. Totally valid. That’s fair-”

“This is YOUR fault!” you scream through another contraction, gripping his hand with strength that could crush stone. “You did this to me, Markus Grayson!”

“I did. I one hundred percent did,” he says, nodding so fast it’s almost a blur. “And I will never stop apologizing. Ever.”

The nurse suppresses a smile and gestures to Mark. “Keep talking to her. She’s doing great.”

“Doing great?” you snarl, panting. “I’m DYING!”

“No, no, no, you're doing amazing, babe-seriously, you’re like a warrior or, OW, okay, yep, that’s my hand-”

You don’t even hear him. Not really. You’re locked in. Focused on pushing. Breathing. Surviving.

Everything burns. Everything hurts. You feel like you’re being torn in half and sewn back together in the same breath. You scream through the next push like you’re exorcising a demon.

And then

A cry.

Shrill. Piercing. Alive.

Your world narrows to that sound. That single, miraculous scream.

You collapse back onto the hospital bed, sweat-soaked, shaking, sobbing in relief. You don’t even realize you’re crying until Mark’s hands are on your face, his lips on your forehead.

“He’s here,” he whispers. His voice cracks. “He’s really here.”

You can barely breathe. “Is he-?”

“He’s perfect.” Mark laughs, breathless and wet-eyed. “God, he’s perfect.”

They place your son on your chest and the world stops.

He’s tiny. Wrinkled. Absolutely furious about being born. But he’s real. And warm. And his little fist curls against your collarbone like he’s anchoring himself to the sound of your heartbeat. Mark’s touching him like he’s afraid to break him, his thumb brushing along the edge of your son’s damp black hair.

“Hey, buddy,” he whispers. “I’m your dad. Sorry about the dramatic entrance.”

You don’t even have the strength to speak. You just look at them, your son, and Mark, kneeling beside you like he can’t believe this is real. And maybe you can’t either.

There’s a knock at the door. A familiar head peeks in.

“Can I come in?” Oliver asks, voice cracking halfway through. He’s holding a plush dinosaur under one arm and looks like he ran here at full speed. “Is he here? Is my nephew-?”

Mark waves him in with one arm still around your shoulders.

Oliver edges toward the bed, his eyes wide. “Whoa. He’s so small.”

“He’s got lungs,” you croak, voice hoarse from yelling. “And very dramatic opinions.”

Oliver smiles, a little stunned. “Can I say hi?”

You nod.

Oliver steps closer and leans down, placing the stuffed dino on the edge of the blanket.

“Hey, little guy,” he murmurs. “I’m your uncle. Which means I get to teach you all the best stuff. Like how to fake sick to get out of school, and how to pretend to sleep through your parents kissing.”

Mark shoots him a look. “You don’t even go to school anymore.”

Oliver grins. “Doesn’t mean I don’t know the hacks.”

You laugh, genuinely laugh, even though your whole body feels like it’s been hit by a truck, and you look down at your son.

Your son.

Everything that’s ever happened, every scar, every loss, every breathless night and haunted morning, led to this.

To him.

To family.

To love.

[party-snake]

could you make Sebastian from Roblox pressure being touchstarved and praise of smut for his lover female reader that came the shop due to forced of being a prisoners isolated in underwater place and Sebastian just being touchstarved due to being alone along with just seeing random prisoners that visit his shop. As he have a relationship with female reader in his human self before his "death" of turning the monster we know <3 (sorry if my grammar is ass since English is not my first language but love your work <3)

I'll try my best 😅

Okay, what I got from this is:

- Reader and Sebastian had relationship before he got taken away.

- Sebastian is touch starved (poor bb)

- You want smut w/ praise

I hope that's right... anyway. Here we go!

Unearthed~

The request and response will serve as your warning. Minors DNI.

❀--❀--❀--❀--❀--❀--❀--❀--❀--❀--❀--❀--❀--❀

"This isn't a charity you know." Sebastian rolls his eyes. The prisoner in front of him desperately tries to pick the flashlight off his tail. "Yeah... no." He draws out the word, annoyance seeping into his tone. The prisoner huffs and walks over to the table, grabbing the keycard and leaving. He pinches his nose and sighs.

Picking up another file, he skims over it. Trying to kill time between prisoners wasn't always easy, or fun. But what other option was there? He couldn't go scavenging, what if someone showed up? Hm. Files it is then.

-thump-

-thump-

-thump-

The sounds of someone crawling through the vent echos through the room, and he looks over at the vent. 'Another prisoner' He thought. He expected just another expendable who didn't even have enough data for a battery. What he wasn't expecting however, was you. He set the file down on the table.

It had been about 4 years since you guys had seen eachother. Urbanshade had been quite vocal about his so called "death" so you had thought he was dead. You walk over to his tail and look at his items. "W-Welcome!" Fuck. His brain stutters for a moment as his tongue tries to formulate words.

You look up at him and smile. His cheeks would heat up, if it wasn't for the DNA making him cold-blooded. His mouth opens and closes a couples times before gives his formulated response of "I'm not going to hurt you," and, "Help yourself to my items as long as you have enough data."

You nod silently and pick up a blacklight. "Not very many of those left down here." He chuckles. Handing him the data, you turn around for the vent. "Wait." He says suddenly. You turn around and stare up at him expectingly. "Do you... not recognize me?" You tilt your head, a confused expression crossing over your features.

He smiles nervously before spreading his arms out wide. "No?" You say, confused. He shrinks slightly. "Sebastian? Does that name ring a bell?" Studing him for a couple more seconds, realization shadows your confusion instantly. "No. My husband Sebastian?" He nods frantically. You flinch and drop the blacklight. It hits the floor with a crack.

The light is forgotten as you run over to him. He bends down and you collide with him, sending your bodies back into the wall. Warm tears spill down your face as you look up at him. "Is it really you?" He nods. So many emotions are running through your head. The adrenaline making you slightly dizzy.

He leans down and kisses you, putting a hand on the back of your head. Warmth pools in your gut as you kiss back just as feverishly. "Seb... missed you so much." He does nothing but nod again, not wanting to ruin the bittersweet moment. Your arms wrap around his neck and hug him more closely. He sighs, the hole in his heart finally being filled with your presense alone.

"Seb-" He cuts you off with another kiss, his hand traveling down to your hips. "Did someone miss me?" You giggled. A hand comes to his face and he smiles, putting a claw to yours and leaning towards your palm to kiss it. Your cheeks heat up and you laugh.

"Poor baby. You must've been so lonely, huh?" A frown replaces his smile and he nods. "Nons of that love, i'm here now." His eyes close and he sighs, so much emotion pouring out in a single action.

"Please, I need to... can I?" You tilt your head. "Do what?" He whimpers and his hand comes to rest between your legs. The hand makes you flinch slightly but you nod anyway. "Thank you." His claws unzip the prisoner suit and pull it away, taking off your pants and underwear in quick succession.

The belts come next, slipping then down his tail and out of the way. A thump from behind you steals your attention away for a second. The noise being his whale end blocking the entrance to his shop. You return your gaze to him, his eyes holding so much desperation and pure need.

Being alone for so long definitely didn't help. His cock comes into view from his slit, a slick substance coating it. You gasp lightly, he had for sure going... bigger, since you last had gotten intimate. He licks his lips, his eyes staring down at you, almost pleadingly. "Go ahead, gonna be a good boy?"

He shuts his eyes and groans, nodding. His grip tightens slightly, lifting you up and setting you over his length. "Just, give me a minute to adjust okay?" He groans and slowly lowers you onto him. The head of his cock spears you open and you almost cry. You clench around him, desperately trying to adjust. "So... so tight." He grunts, leaning down into your neck.

Your nails dig into his arm, trying to distract yourself from the pain of being penetrated. He makes it halfway and stops, allowing you time to breathe. 'Deep breathes through your nose' you tell yourself, taking in greedy gulps of precious air.

He mets your eyes questioningly and you nod, motioning him to keep going. He continues his previous movements and you hiss. Sharp teeth, ghost over your skin as he nuzzles closer into your neck. Slowly, the pain is replaced by overwhelming pleasure, his long cock hitting spots that cause your vision to go foggy.

"Heh, go ahead Seb." Your voice comes out shakey, the words almost refusing to form in your mouth. He lifts you up and slowly pushes you back down, using both hands to grip your waist. Your eyes roll back into your head, electric pleasure zapping up your spine.

You clenched around him as he repeated the motion, using you as a toy. He groaned into your neck, kissing up the side to under your ear. "Good b-boy Seb, making me feel so good." His tail starts thumping again the vent, making an hollow echoing sound that your sure could be heard outside.

Your back arched as he grinded into you, filling your walls and stretching you apart. The tip of his cock hits all the right spots and you could do nothing but moan against him. His light flickers next to your shoulder. Your core tightens as you reach your end. Fingers wrap around his head, curling in his dark locks.

He grinds into you and the coil snaps, shaking as you cum against him. He groans against your shoulder, feeling your juices coat him. You slump against his shoulder. Exhaustion creeps into your body, your legs sore from the abuse. He growls and reaches his end, bottoming out and cumming deep inside you.

No-one moves for a few moments, snuggling up against eachother. He looks down at you and you return it, smiling softly at him. You peck him on the lips and lay against his chest. "I'm glad you're here love." He says. "Me too sweetheart." Sleep clings to your words.

He had been so lonely. Only seeing a few scientists a day for new injections of DNA. After being taken away from you, he had made a promise. He would do whatever it toke to get you back. He would kill, just be back with you again. Fortunately, he only had to do that once just to have you in his arms.

You hadn't faired much better to be honest. All those nights, lying in your bed and looking at the pictures you had together. Your heart ached reliving the memoried of you guys' happiest moments, knowing you'd never be able to relive them.

Eventually, you'd gone completely mute. The grief and pain had stolen your voice. They taunted you every day, the voices in your head growing louder, and louder, and louder. And it almost destroyed you.

But even through all that, you held out. A spark of hope deep in your soul, kept you going. Like a bonfire in a deep forest, you warmed your hands and sharped your tools. Not knowing what was in the forest scared you, but the fire was eternal.

And man you were glad as hell that you kept going. And so was he.

I hope you liked it! Sorry if it's shit, it's late where I am but I wanted to get this out for you. hope you like ☺️

[sanguineterrain]

Could we please get a drabble in which Jason and his partner have a fight and the partner walks out of the apartment to cool off and doesn't think the fight was something detrimental but Jason is actually terrified his relationship just ended?

anon?? are we sharing a mental connection?? i literally had this thought a month ago 😳 it fits him so well too :(

jason todd x gn!reader. tw fighting, jason thinks you broke up with him, misunderstandings, happy ending.

****

"You're not being fair."

You scoff, and pinch the bridge of your nose.

"Fair? This is what couples do, Jason! God, I'm not saying we have to go out with other couples every week, but can't we do it at least once in a while? What's wrong with going to one wedding?"

Jason scowls from the kitchen. His arms are crossed, jaw tensed. "Why aren't you happy with just going out together? You're not in a relationship with your friends."

"Because it's good to do new things, and you're someone I want my friends to meet. And I want to meet your friends too!"

"My friends are aliens and Roy. You don't wanna meet them, trust me."

"Yes, I do, Jason. Don't tell me I don't. And I know this relationship is new for both of us, but I don't want it to be that we never go out with people, never meet each others' friends. You don't even have a good reason not to go!" you say.

"I do have a good reason," Jason says. "We don't know them."

"I work with the bride! She's not a criminal—"

"We don't need to go to someone's wedding we don't know," he continues. "Too many variables. Too many things could go wrong."

You shake your head. "That is so ridiculous, Jason. It's not spycraft, it's a wedding!"

"I said no," Jason says sharply, like he's handling a Crime Alley thug.

You take a deep breath.

"Okay." You close your eyes. "This isn't going to work. I need some air."

You grab your wallet and keys and walk out of his apartment. The train station is only a block from where you are; you'll go to the city square, have some lunch, and go back after a few hours. Jason doesn't respond well when he's pushed.

****

It's close to 5pm when you get back to Jason's apartment. He hasn't texted you, but you didn't expect him to; no contact is best for a few hours anyway.

You unlock the door. The apartment is dark.

"Jay?" You put your things down on the side table. "Jason? You here?"

Had he gone on patrol already?

There's a bump in the bedroom, then the door creaks open.

Jason stands in the doorway, clothes rumpled. You turn on a lamp, and he squints. His eyes are red; the skin of his lips are chewed up. He blinks at you, shoulders going to his ears.

"Are you here for your stuff?" he asks quietly.

You frown. "What?"

Jason points tightly to his room. "Your clothes and stuff."

"Why would I get my clothes?"

He takes a deep, shuddery breath, then swallows.

"'Cause we-we broke up," he says, and his eyes become glassy again.

Oh.

"Oh. Oh no, Jay. Jay, baby. No, no."

You walk to him and wrap your arms around his neck. He plants his face in your shoulder, hands going from your hips to your back and down again. He sniffles.

"I'm sorry," he says. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. We can go to the wedding."

"Wait, hang on. Jason. Baby, look at me."

Jason picks up his head. His eyes are wide, his breathing is fast.

"Why do you think we broke up, Jay?"

He rubs his eye, pulling the skin so hard it turns red.

"'Cause we fought and... and when I fight with people, that means things are over."

"Things aren't over," you say gently. "We move on. We talk. We forgive."

"Don't deserve it."

"Oh, Jay." You pull him back into your arms. He bends so he can rest his head on your chest. "Sweetie, we're not going to break up over one fight. Certainly not over something like this. We can always talk things out."

He sighs. "I was stupid anyway. We should do normal couple things. You don't deserve my bullshit."

You stroke his hair. He hugs you tighter.

"Jay, being anxious about going someplace new isn't bullshit. And I don't want you to go to the wedding just because you're afraid we'll break up if we don't."

He pulls back to look at you. You're no more than a couple inches from each other.

"I don't want to go to the wedding," he says. "But... maybe we can start with something smaller? Less people? Dinner with another couple?"

"Are you sure?"

He nods. "Yeah, sweetheart. I'm sure. I wanna do that stuff, I just—one day at a time?"

"Yeah, Jay, of course." You kiss him. "Always."

[alastor-simp]

Mates For Life - Alastor x Doe Reader (R18-NOT FOR MINORS)

❥WARNINGS: NSFW. NOT FOR MINORS (SCROLL AWAY IF YOU ARE UNDERAGED)

❥Summary: Charlie's Deer Friend (literally) attends the hotel and helps charlie with her endeavors. Alastor seems quite interested in the little doe and remains close. What happens when she goes into a rut in the middle of pride ring? How will Alastor amend the situation?

❥Tags: Alastor x female reader, rut, doe reader, reader in heat, sex, pregnancy, Alastor develops feelings, vox is an asshole, protective alastor, happy ending

❥Notes: Requested by @ohmylovewhereartthou-blog . Enjoy!

"AHHH, MISSS CHARLIE SSSAVE ME PLEASSSSE!!!" Sir Pentious cried out, running away from a furious Vaggie with a spear in her hand. "GET OVER HERE, YOU SERPIENTE!" Fuming with rage, Vaggie raced towards the poor snake, ready to stab him. Charlie heard the commotion and rushed over, holding her girlfriend back with her arms, while Sir Pentious cowered behind the couch. "HAHAHA, nothing like a bit of chaotic entertainment to start the day!" Sipping on his coffee near the bar, Alastor observed the scene, highly entertained at Charlies attempts to calm down her girlfriend, and the whimpers of the snake. "Vaggie! Calm down please, He didn't mean it." Holding Vaggie tightly, she waited for her to settle. "HIS EGG BOIS BLEW THE CEILING UP AGAIN WITH HIS WEAPONS! I TOLD HIM BEFORE NO MORE WEAPONS!!" Vaggie spat out, as her spear pointed at Sir Pentious, ready to aim it at him. "VAGGIE! IT WAS AN ACCIDENT! PLEASE CALM DOWN!!" After about a few minutes of holding her back, Vaggie's fury had subsided, dropping the spear to the ground. A knock at appeared at the door of the hotel, alerting everyone in the room. "Oh, I'll get that! The two of you continue make up please!" Charlie ran over to the door, while Sir Pentious slowly removed himself from behind the couch, appearing apologetic in front of Vaggie, while Vaggie continued to stare at Charlie before looking back at Sir Pentious, still a bit ticked, but uttered a sorry.

"Awww..how dull. I so would have love to see some bloodshed." Alastor voiced out, as he continued to sip away at his coffee, eyes following Charlie heading to the door. Having opened the door widely, Charlie squealed, causing everyone to turn their heads to the entrance, and Alastor to raise an eyebrow. "Y/N!!!! YOU'RE HERE!!! ITS SO NICE TO SEE YOU AGAIN!!" There was a sweet giggle that could be heard, causing Al's ears to twitch. "It's great to see you to, Charlie!" Having released each other from the hug, Charlie grabbed your hand, allowing you to come inside. All eyes were drawn to you, given your resemblance to a certain deer demon. Small little antlers adorned the top of your head, along with the fluffy brown ears that were moving cutely. Your face resembled that of a humans, yet the little brown nose stood out, along with the small brown tail that was showing out of your little dress

(Credit to pinterest)

"Everyone! This is Y/N, my good friend!" Charlie gestured to you, as you shyly smiled back at everyone, giving them a small wave. At this point, everyone had gathered inside the hotel lobby, including Angel dust and Niffty. Angel dust, knowing his ways, was the first one to mention your look, "Woah! This gal looks a lot like Smiles over here!" His eyes scanned at both you and Alastor before turning back to you with a semi smirk. Vaggie had made her way over, a bit of uncertainty on her face, as she has never come across you before. "How do the both of you know each other?" Crossing her arms, she gave you a bit of a glare. "Oh! Me and Charlie met a few years ago when we were both children. I often times would be brought to the palace with my parents as they would attend meetings with the King and Queen. Since there wasn't much for me to do as a child, I explored the castle and ran into Charlie. We had been friends ever since." Vaggie glare had softened and she was looking at you with kind eyes, glad that you weren't another demon, planning to possibly sabotage the hotel, and happy that Charlie had a very strong bond with you. Feeling your shoulders getting grabbed, Charlie had asked why had you come to the hotel. Smiling, you told Charlie you wanted to help out with her rehabilitation program, since you as well believed that people could be redeemed, which earned you a huge bear hug from Charlie.

"OHHHHH! I'M SO HAPPY YOU ARE HERE TO HELP! Oh before I forget, let me introduce you to everyone!" Charlie had introduced everyone to you one by one, making a note of everyones names. Vaggie, Charlies girlfriend, Sir Pentious, the kind looking snake, Angel dust, the tall pink spider, Niffty, the adorable one eyed demon, Husk, the grumpy cat, and last by not least, Alastor, the radio demon. Having poofed his coffee away, Alastor made his way over to you, smiling widely, microphone cane in hand. "Why, aren't you an adorable doe, my dear!" His glowing eyes held a bit of wickedness, as he bent down at the waist, giving you a polite bow. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance!" His hand arched out for a handshake, which you followed by putting your hand in his, giving it a polite shake. "Nice to meet you as well. I have heard much about you from your radio show." Perking up with interest, Alastor smile had grown almost twice the size. "Ahh, I take it you are a fan?" His face had gotten closer, earning a small blush from you. "Well, not so much the screams of the demons, but I do enjoy the music you play. I do love me some Cab Calloway and Duke Ellington." Oh, Al's smile grew to the point it almost broke his face, as he stood back to his regular height. "HAHAHA! Charlie, I have taken quite a liking to your little friend here!" His hand had placed on your shoulder, giving it a squeeze, no trace of animosity whatsoever in that little gesture. "Oh I'm happy to here that Al. If you want, do you want to give them a tour of the hotel?" Giving Al her best puppy dog eyes, Alastor could not refuse, besides he was planning on showing you around anyway. "I be delighted to! Come along, my dear!

Hooking his arm with yours, Alastor took it upon himself to show you certain areas of the hotel, the kitchen, the rooms of the other denizens, and the lounge room. Walking through the hallways, he looked at one of the windows and motioned to you at the small building attached to the hotel. "That my dear is where I do my broadcasts! I could have you attend one of them, if you would like!" Your eyebrow rose at that, "As a guest or victim?" Turning back to look at you, Alastor shook his head, flicking his hand at you "Heavens no! I would never harm a doll like you, plus I have grown quite fond of you! He had bent down again to lean closer to your face, smiling genuinely for once. "I feel the same." Offering him a soft smile, Alastor perked up at that, causing his tail to start wagging under his coat. He grabbed your arm again, and continued his tour, with you following next to him.

**2 Months Later**

"Lets see, got the chicken, tomatoes, taco seasoning...." You were shopping around a grocery store, getting ingredients for tonight's dinner plans. You had adapted well at the hotel and was able to help out Charlie to the best of your abilities. Vaggie did tell you that it was going to be difficult to bring demons to the hotel, but you were still going to try. Relationships with the others began to form left and right the longer you stayed at the hotel. Everyone adored you, even Husk was in a more cheery mood at the hotel. The closest bond you had was the one with Alastor, which started the day you had arrived at the hotel. He was not lying when he said that he grew fond of you, as his actions around you always made your heart skip a beat. Hand holding, leaving little gifts for you in your room, and showing his true side to you made you fall more and more in love with him. The path to a forming a romantic relationship was in front of you with Alastor, but there were many roadblocks ahead of you, one of them being if he was entirely comfortable and okay with the idea, since he has said to you before he wasn't keen on romance and all that nonsense, but based on his actions around you, maybe? possibly? Shaking away your thoughts, you went to check out at the register and started to head out.

Paper bag of groceries concealed in your arms, your eyes scanned the area, group of demons fighting each other, broken glass all over the place, and the air heavy with filth and smoke, yep just another day in hell. Wanting to avoid some of the chaos, you took a shortcut that allowed you to make it home safely. Venturing further down the path, you noticed the air felt very warm lately, which was strange since it wasn't so hot before. It felt almost hard to breathe, making you sweat profusely. The heat became unbearable, causing you to stop and lean against the wall. Your tail kept fidgeting behind you, like it had a mind of its own. A feel of dread hit you once you felt the heatness intensify in your core. Oh no no no, You were in heat! This was not good, as the times when you went into heat, you were by yourself, alone in a secluded area, as your heat released pheromones that attracted everyone to you. Now that you were outside, you made for a VERY easy target. Trying to bare through the heat, you slowly made your way down the path, holding the groceries tighter to prevent from dropping them, hoping you would reach the hotel first, before you fell victim to the heinous actions of other demons if they caught you like this.

As you rounded a corner, your face connected with someones chest, causing the contents of the paper bag to fly out, spilling onto the ground and the persons chest and shoes, staining them. "Oh I'm sorry!" As you looked up, you felt your heart hit your stomach. In front of you was none other then one of the Vees known as Vox. He was a TV demon, with a head resembling that of a TV. You heard about him a lot from Alastor and listening to his show that Vox was Al's mortal enemy. This was not good, you need to get away from him NOW! His screen face illuminated your back at you, as his red eyes scanned down to look at you, filled with disgust. "Ugh great, I just washed this suit too and now its dirtied." Inching closer to you, his hand had gripped your shirt, pulling you closer towards him, making you gasp, "Hey bitch, how are going to compensate for ruining my....." His eyes widen for a second, before returning back to normal. He wasn't glaring at you, he seemed...almost in a trance. His face continued to glitch in front of you, until his red static eyes had turned into hearts and he was smirking at you. "Wow you smell amazing, deer girl. Why don't I take you to my room in the Vee tower?" His hands had wrapped around you, preventing you from escaping. "N-o Le-t go of m-e!" Your attempts were futile as your heat had rendered you to weak to fight back, only able to struggle in his embrace. Chin risen up to face the tv, he held it up as he slowly began to inch closer, his screen mouth aiming closer for your lips. "Come on, little lady. Lets have some fun."

SMASH!!!!!!

Vox's body was sent flying, as a large tentacle had punched his face, shattering his screen. Your body still weak, began to slump and fall to the ground. Moving your head up, you widen your eyes to see Alastor, smile stretched to show his gums, eyes pinpointing straight at Vox, who was slumped against the alley wall, groaning in pain. Turning his head quickly towards you, Al's glare has lessen, showing you a look of concern, making sure you were alright. Looking back towards Vox, he slowly walked towards Vox, the sounds of his steps echoing and static piercing the air. "Now Vox, my old friend. It is quite rude to touch a fair lady like that......especially when s̑҉̝h̡̲ͥė̶̳ ̑͏͎̤͘b̛͖̪̆̓̕e̛͕̦̿̏͡ĺ͊͠҉̙͙õ͈͒̕͢ͅn̶͔͇ͧ̐̀g̫̯̿́̚͠s̞̼͒͆͘͜ ̫͗̔͜͞ͅt̄͒͏̪̠̀ǫ̤̻͒̋̕ ̥̪̿͟͡m̷͎͋ẹ̌͠ !" Demonic symbols began to appear around Alastor, glowing an ominous red as Alastor antlers began to grow. ""̝ͮĬ̮Ḟ̻ ̝͒Y̙͗O͉͂Ŭ͙ ̱̄E̫͒V̤̐E̥̋R̞ͬ ̫ͤT͍̐O̫̔U͙̚C͍̆H̗͑ ̖͑H̝͌É̦R̙̚ ̝̋A͉̽G̫ͦA̰ͦI̤ͪŃ̞.̜͌ ̺͉͗I̳̳͌'͇͇͆̂L̜̥͐́L̫̱̓̋ ̘̗ͩ̈R̺ͫ̅ͅI̦̬ͩͪP͔͙̓͂ ̙̫͛̿Ò̟̩͛F̦̺̈ͫF̗̟͛͂ ̟͕̌̔Y̯͚ͩ̇O̖̣͒͌U̬͎͑͊R͍̭ͦ̄ ̰͓ͭ͌A̻̯̋͒L̝̭ͫ̋L͕͎̉̄ ̯̻̑̽O̥̼ͥ̃F͇̤̒̂ ̘̝̊̄Ẏ̦̜̌O̳̲͊ͭU̹̱ͩ̉R͚̳ͭͦ ̰̥ͪ̑P̭̩̉ͭA̱̯̾͒T̥͓ͦ͆Ḫ̏̉ͅE͍͉͊͐T̙̹͒ͯI͓̠͑̐C̳͖̾̚ ̯̙͊ͥL͈̖ͫ̓I͇̦͌̉T̩͇̂̀T̩̦ͨ͂L̝̖ͥ̂Ě͎͈ͯ ̜̱̂ͮL̠̫ͥͧI̪̬͗̓M͔̰̾̚B̫̣̏́S̺̯̆ͣ,̗̰̆̆ ̼̘̀͋D̻̗̉̋E͇̘ͬV̟ͭͅO̬͉ͦṲ̗̂R̦̹̒͌ ̠̲͌̀T͎̻̋́H̻̟̾̊E̦̮͆̎M̫̭ͤ͊ ͓͕̇ͭA̬͇̓̔N̫͇ͣͦĎ͙̗͆ ̝̰̄̇B̙͇̋̇R̭̹͊̋Ổ͓̯Ḁ͍̆̏D̜̩ͭͦC͇͈ͥ̌A̗͉ͬ̒S͍̲͌ͭT͚̻͗͂ ̺͚͒ͮṪ͉̝̓H̬̻͗ͤE̬͉ͪͤ ̭͍̐̃S͕̣̐ͬO̰͉͑͊Ủ̼̹̎N̠̖̿̄Ḓ͚̓̉S͙̼̓̅ ͚ͪ̈ͅO͖̼ͫ̔F̭̞͑ͦ ̜̫ͬ̓Y͕̮ͥ̏O̙̬͌̑Ṵ̙̒̎R̦͎̊̚ ̭̅ͬͅS̬̤͂͆C͈͚̈ͤR͉̦͒̂E̩̻ͭ̆A͔̫̓̂M̪͎ͣ̋S̟̗ͨ̊ ͍̪̊ͧṮ̣ͬ̂O̪̗ͫ͋ ͇̳ͣ̉Ǎ̗̩ͪL͈͎̋̊L̥̓ͅ ̳̺̑Ȏ͕F̺̐ ͇́T̩̾H̙ͪĚ̯ ̤ͪS͕͊E͍͐V̼̾Ẻ̦N̜͐ ̰̔R̗͆I̜̒N̙͆G̳͑S͕̀ ̪ͮO͇͗F͎͋ ̥͒H̬̐Ė̥Ḻ͗Ḻͮ!̙͊!͚ͭ"

His form had grown into a monstrous height, black tendrils appearing from his back, and you can assume his red eyes had become radio dials. His whole form bent over, big enough to hover over Vox, as he was whimpering in fear on the ground. Face glitching from the broken screen, tongue stuck in his throat due to fear, he wasn't able to even utter a word, resorting to nodding his head rapidly, letting Alastor know he understood. In a flash, Alastor had turned back into his less demonic form, static dimming down as if nothing had happen. "Good man!" His cheery tone returned, before turning back towards you, leaving Vox cowering behind him. Walking closer to your position on the ground, Alastor bent down to pick you up, holding you like a princess. "Come along, my deer. Let us return back to the hotel!

With a snap of his fingers, Alastor teleported the both of you away from your location, appearing in the middle of your room at the hotel. Alastor had moved closer to your bed, setting you down. Your eyes looked up at him and you can tell he was upset, given how strained his smile was. "What on earth were you thinking, my dear?! I have told you countless times that area of pride is quite notorious for wayward scum to pop up, especially my old pal, Vox. I made it abundantly clear that either me or Husk should go with you, and yet you disregarded my warning. What have you to say for...." Midway through his rant, Alastor took note of your reactions. Your body was trembling, eyes a bit glossy and sweat was evident on your face. The sweet scent soon reached his nose, causing him to step back a bit. Ohhh he knows what is happening, you had gotten into your rut season. No wonder Vox had gotten touchy with you, the aroma emitting from your body was irresistible. He felt his lower regions come to life, painfully pushing against his trousers. Bearing through his desire to take you right here and now, Alastor moved closer towards you, placing his hands on both sides of the bed next to you, caging you in. Through your feverish daze, your were able to notice Alastor actions, looking up at him, eyes filled with both confusion and passion.

"Your in mating season aren't you. I can help you with your predicament, darling, but there are going to be some minor things that must be brought up if we are to do this. One, If we perform this, we will be mates for life, you will be tied down to me for the rest of our lives, and two, you will have my offspring as you are extremely fertile. It is once again your decision if you would like to be my mate." His words were soft, eyes filled with adoration as he explained all of this to you. Mates for life? Yes, YES! Placing your hands against his cheek, you drew him closer to kiss him, soft lips molding against yours, making the both of you moan. Smiling in the kiss, Alastor was glad your answer was Yes, as he continued to kiss you, pushing forward as both of your bodies fell on to the bed. Your eears twitch as you heard the sound of a snap, as the both of you pulled away, seeing that Alastor had snapped both of his and your clothes away, leaving the both of you bare. His glowing eyes scanned over your whole body, hands moving to your pussy, inserting his fingers slowly inside of you, earning a moan from you. "My my, your insides are so hot and moist, darling. It's becoming very difficult not to take you right now!" Licking his lips, he continued to finger your insides, moans spewing your lips.

He only put his fingers inside and you felt like you could burst at any moment. "Please do it. I can't take it anymore. Breed me!" You begged for him, earning a chuckle from him. "Brace yourself, darling." His whole length inserted itself inside of you, earning a groan from both you and him. There was no pain, only immense pleasure when he entered inside of you. Your walls were squeezing him tightly, keeping him locked in. "Groan~, so tight...." His voice was driving you crazy, as you never heard him without his static. The both of you stayed in that position, until Alastor grabbed your legs, raising them up in the air, and began to plow you, making you scream. "Ahhhhhhhh...Al...AL!" Grasping the bed with your hands, you felt your eyes roll back, mind going blank from the ecstasy you were feeling. He was so deep inside of you he could almost hit your womb. Speeding up faster and faster, he was making you see stars from how much he was pleasuring you. Something was coming, it was coming quickly, causing your back to arch of the bed, "Al.....I'm gonn-I'm gonna come!" Alastor smiled at you, bending down to give a kiss on your lips, before moving his head closer to your ear. "Then come" He bit down on your neck, creating the mating mark that would bind the both of you together. A sudden rush hit you, and you screamed out, feeling something exploded out of you, clenching his length tighter, making him moan. He continued to pound you rapidly, as he soon let out a groan, cumming inside of you, seed hitting your womb.

**4 months later**

"My dear~, I'm home~!" Alastor sang out, as he entered inside his bedroom, where you were staying. You were laid out on the bed, book in one hand, and another on your now round belly. After that mating session, the both of you had become a deer couple for life. Al wasn't kidding when he said you were very fertile cause a few weeks after that you realized you were pregnant, with twins in fact. Alastor was over the moon when he found out, picking you up and spinning you around in joy. He had decided that the both of you would stay in his hotel room together , making sure you were comfortable and also providing you protection. You told him there was no need for that, but he had grown quite possessive and protective of you, rather you staying with him then by yourself in your hotel room. "Hi my love! Did you enjoy your stroll?" Smiling sweetly, your eyes watched Alastor make his way over to you, throwing his arms around you in a tender hug. "It would have been better if your presence was with me!" Rubbing his head against yours like a cat, he whined his frustrations out, earning a laugh from you. "Who was the one that said I should stay here and rest?" Quirking an eyebrow at him, you wrapped an arm around his back , giving it a pat. Slowly, Al removed himself from the hug, but placed his forehead against yours. "I am aware, my doe. I just still want you by my side." He spoke sweetly, hearts appearing in his eyes. Who knew the radio demon was such an affectionate cuddlebug? Drawing his eyes towards your stomach, he placed a gentle hand on it, giving it a rub. A sudden movement came from your stomach, surprising the both of you. "Such exuburent behavior! One of my fawns is going to be an excellent dancer like me!" Alastor smiled warmly, hand still caressing your belly. "or a successful radio host." You said, smiling up at Al, as you placed your hand on top of his. Alastor hummed in joy, nuzzling your forehead again, and placing a tender kiss on it. "Je t'aime, my doe!

-END-

Sinners:

@alastorsgoldie @91062854-ka , @delectableworm , @iiotic

@cookiekyo , @demoarah , @danveration , @beebsbea ,

@veethewriter , @forbidden-sunlight , @pinkcrystal44 , @luujjvi ,

@unholycheesesnack , @saturnhas82moons , @jyoongim ,

@aceofcards0-0 , @ghostdoodlen , @yourdoorisunlocked ,

@starshipcookie , @ainsliemac , @aria-tempest , @nobuharashinyao

, @sweet06tart , @blakedbeanss , @ihyperfixatedagain , @ktssstuff ,

@yakultt-art , @mooniee123 , @nightmarenaya , @darischerry ,

@sadnessiscoldtea , @alastorssimp , @imacollasaltitan ,

@dilucragnvindr-my-beloved , @batmanmonstarr , @felice-jaganshi ,

@justchillaine , @crazed-flower , @ohmylovewhereartthou-blog ,

@akiooshizuka , @lokis-imaginary-friend ,

@themysteriousslenderman , @huntlowfan , @futureittomainn ,

@christinaatyourservice92 , , @just-trash-yeah-thats-it ,

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@madam-strawberryrose , @inkslayer , @azazel-nyx , @lixanjewel ,

@artemisandhunters , @thereeallink , @ask-theradio-demon ,

@lousypotatoes @l4zyb0n35 , @midorichoco

@lillylovesalastorsm1 , @alastorthirsty , @yukiinee ,

@daydream-the-demon , @cosmiccoralz @aconstructofamind

@pumppkinlynn @erikaafernns , @silverpaw2 ,

@cosmiccandydreamer

[musette22]

What if, one Avengers movie night at the tower, the team decides to watch Four Weddings and a Funeral because Steve and Bucky have never seen it, and apparently, that's shocking.

Steve has been kind of quiet all evening, not joining in with the usual banter or even munching on popcorn like the rest of them, just watching the screen silently and sitting very still.

Two weddings come and go, and then, it's time for the titular funeral.

"Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone," the pale Scottish man recites W.H. Auden's poem, visibly overcome with emotion as he remembers his deceased beloved.

He was my North, my South, my East and West, My working week and my Sunday rest, My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song; I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong. The stars are not wanted now: put out every one; Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun; Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood. For nothing now can ever come to any good.

The poem's final words hang in the air for a moment, bleak and heavy with sadness, and then suddenly, Steve makes a sound. It's not intentional, he just can't seem to stop it. Like the wave that's been building inside of him, quietly but inexorably mounting higher and higher, finally crests. A sob escapes him, sounding like it's torn from his chest, harsh and incongruent in the heavy silence of the room - and then, he starts to cry uncontrollably.

All heads swivel in his direction, surprised at the sudden outburst, but it’s just Bucky who is up like a shot, immediately reaching out for Steve. Steve curls in on himself, trying to hide his face in his hands, his whole body shaking with heaving breaths and big, ugly sobs.

“Oh, Steve, Stevie, hey." Bucky's hands are on Steve's shoulders; soothing, anchoring. “It’s okay. You’re okay, hey, sshhh.”

The words don't seem to register, bouncing uselessly off the wall of sorrow surrounding Steve, so Bucky wraps his arms around Steve's shaking frame instead and pulls him in, close to his chest. Steve resists for half a second before he melts into it, hugging Bucky back tightly, desperately, clinging hard enough to crack a rib in someone not enhanced.

“You were d-dead,” Steve chokes out, in between sobs. “You were dead and I – I m-mourned you. Bucky, I couldn't... I w-wasn't - Buck- Bucky.”

The last iteration of his name resembles a wail more than a word, heartwrenching, cutting right through Bucky's bones.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky says, inadequately, miserably. “I’m so sorry.” He rubs Steve’s back, over and over, shivering when Steve buries his nose in the crook of his neck, like he wants to burrow under Bucky's skin. Bucky presses his cheek against Steve's hair, trying to give Steve the comfort he's finally admitting to needing. "I’m here now. We’re both here. I’m never leaving you again, Steve. Never again, I promise.”

This time, the words get through to Steve, but instead of calming him down, they just make him weep even harder. He cries and cries until finally, his entire, big body shudders in Bucky's arms and some of that awful tension finally drains from his shoulders.

When his grip on Bucky loosens a little, Bucky pulls back to look at him. Steve’s face is blotchy red and wet, but his eyes are like cut diamonds, deep blue and bright with tears and emotion. He is, without a shadow of a doubt, the most beautiful thing Bucky has ever seen. Slowly, Bucky lifts a hand to Steve’s face, gently brushing his bangs away from his forehead. Apart from the occasional aftershock, Steve stays still, arms still wrapped around Bucky’s waist, their faces only inches apart. Steve's face, usually so controlled, is now wide open, love and adoration and awe all right there on the surface, plain for anyone to see.

Steve looks at him like Bucky hung the moon, like he’s his North and South and East and West, and Bucky feels too small to warrant it all, small but solid like a gem, precious and cherished in the face of Steve’s devotion.

When Steve’s eyes flick down to his mouth and linger there, his gaze rapt, transfixed, Bucky's heart trips. They haven't -- not since Bucky came back to Steve, not in this century, and Bucky hadn't been sure he'd remembered right, but now... Bucky's lips part on a soft, stunned gasp, and then before he can so much as blink, Steve surges up and presses his own lips against Bucky's. Bucky gasps again, arms coming up to take Steve's face in his hands, cradling it tenderly in his palms, metal and flesh alike.

The kiss is as much a thrilling, breathtaking culmination of years of silent yearning as it is the easiest, most obvious thing in the world. It makes everything that's felt just slightly off-balance over the past seventy-odd years finally right itself, pieces falling into place, the red thread of fate untangling itself and smoothing out, stretching taught and vibrant between them.

They're not sure how long they stay there like that, wrapped up in each other, revelling in the feeling of finally being together, being whole again. But when they finally break apart, Steve's eyes are closed and his face serene, finally at peace. He hums softly when Bucky rests his forehead against Steve's and rubs them together, lightly, comforting. The room around them is silent, the TV turned off, everyone else gone.

There'll be curiosity later, gentle teasing and well-intentioned demands for explanations, and that's alright. But for now, it's just Bucky and Steve, and a love that burns as bright and all consuming as the sun, as endless as the moon and stars.

[beenbaanbuun]

hangover w/ jung wooyoung

i am being destroyed by a hangover currently so have this tiny little thing i wrote to make me feel better 🙂‍↕️

——————————————————————————-

“oh,” wooyoung just stands there in the doorway, one hand holding your door open and the other resting gently on his hip. whatever he was expecting to see, it wasn’t this. “my, my! you really are rotting away today, aren’t you?”

you grumble something incoherent from inside your cocoon of quilts, tugging it tighter around your face until your your nose and eyes are on show. it’s warm in there, and that warmth is your only protection from the cold, sad, terrible world outside. the one that wooyoung is so graciously letting in though your bedroom door. if you had the effort to stand, you’d pull him inside, but at this moment in time, you barely have the effort to swipe aside the hair that hangs over your eyes.

“shut up and get in here,” he rolls his eyes at your demand, but complies nonetheless. the door slams, locking the real world outside of your bedroom once more. it’s better that way, you tell yourself, the real world is too cruel and bitter for you to handle right now.

wooyoung takes a few cautious steps across the room, careful to avoid the neat piles of rejected outfits from the night prior. he spots a few familiar items, humming as he sees his favourite top that you wear screwed up and in a limp pile by the foot of the bed. he would’ve liked to have seen you in it last night, finding the way it hugs your chest absolutely mesmerising. the top you wore instead was pretty, sure, but that one? it’s a wet dream come true.

“scooch,” he insists as he parks himself on edge the mattress. you shuffle over a few inches to give him just enough space to lie down. he’ll of course, have to be presses up against you to even begin to feel like he isn’t about to fall off, but maybe that’s all part of your plan. “and give me some quilt! we can’t cuddle properly unless we’re both snug!” as he wraps his arms around your form, forcing a thigh between your own to tangle your legs together, you open your cocoon just wide enough for him to slip inside. he hums gratefully as he enters the warm chamber you’ve created.

“you have far too many clothes on,” you whisper as you slip a hand beneath his hoodie. there’s zero ulterior motives other than the need to be close to him; a motive that is severely hindered when wooyoung seems to have dressed himself for winter. you don’t press the issue, though, simply resting your hand flat against his spine and waiting for him to decide whether to be evil and deprive you of his flesh against yours or not.

“and you have nothing on,” he states the obvious, “i’m sure i dressed your drunk little ass in a hoodie before i left last night,” a finger trails it’s way up the naked curve of your back and you can’t help but shiver. “i told you to take your makeup off too but i guess you were staging a rebellion against me or something?”

you squeeze him tighter, hoping it’ll distract him from teasing you about your drunken stubbornness. knowing wooyoung, nothing will stop him from running his mouth, but you can try! fortune favours the bold, and there’s nothing more bold than trying to stun your boyfriend into silence with a bone-crushingly tight hug and a dream.

he chuckles softly at your behaviour and for a moment, you think it might have worked. as he takes a finger and pushes that one piece of hair away from your face, you’re sure that nothing but fluff and softness will fall from his lips. it’s worked—

“you’re cute when you’re all hungover and messy,” nevermind, “we should drink together more often just so i can see you all grumpy and irritable the next morning,” he presses a wet kiss against your forehead, but you’re far too lazy to wipe it away, “the smeared makeup really adds to how adorable you are, by the way.”

“wooyoung!”

[suskz]

anon ask: Hey pookie 💕 Can I pls request boyfriend Chan while his girlfriend is working on her bachelors project because I’m about to graduate and I’m STRESSED 😭😭😭 Can be any genre you want tbh, fluff, comfort, smut whatever you feel like atm

pairing: Bang Chan x Fem!Reader

t/w: fluff ; clingy Channie ; stressed reader ; reader is not good at taking breaks.

w/c: 1.4k

a/n: I hope you like it! And good luck with your graduation! 😊

When he returns to the living room, you're still sitting on the couch with your computer on your lap and the low noise of the TV in the background.

His hand stops rubbing the towel on his wet hair and he sighs through his nose, looking at you.

He approaches the couch slowly, getting behind you without being noticed. His hand lands under your chin and tilts your head back, gently lifting your face towards the ceiling, where he placed his smiling face so you can look at him.

You're taken by surprise, but you don't startle, you don't have the time.

"It's not good to keep your head down like that for too long." he informs you, observing your upside-down face.

"Nor is it good to keep it like this.” you affirm, easily removing his hand and returning to look at the computer screen.

He huffs, "I just wanted a kiss." He pouts and walks around the couch to sit next to you. And he looks at you.

For a while, you pretend his presence doesn't bother you, but you feel the weight of his eyes on you, and eventually, you give in. You turn towards him and kiss away that cute pout from his lips. "Happy now?"

He smiles at you. Finally.

"No, I want more." He tries to kiss you again, but you move away and don't let him.

"Later," you return to typing on the keyboard, "And you still need to dry your hair."

"I want you to do it for me. I prefer it when you do it."

"Chan, I can't right now, do it yourself." You try to make him leave, but he doesn't give up.

"Pretty please?" When you look at him, you can't resist his puppy eyes.

You sigh, "Bring the hairdryer."

At your words, he smiles widely and quickly gets up from the couch to fetch the object from the bathroom and bring it to the living room to you.

You put the computer aside and plug in the cord while Chan settles between your legs, sitting on the floor with his back against the couch.

You turn on the hairdryer and start drying his hair. Your fingers move through his curls, grabbing and slightly pulling them, while the warmth spreads, slowly returning them to their fluffiness.

His body relaxes at your gentle touch, his eyes close, and his mind empties. He loves it when you touch his hair; he could stay there all day with your hands caressing them.

But everything has an end, and you turn off the hairdryer when his hair is completely dry. When you're done, you ruffle his hair aggressively, affectionately.

His head gently falls back, resting on the couch between your open legs. When you lower your gaze, he opens his eyes and smiles at you, his dimples showing on his cheeks.

Your heart fills with affection. He's so cute and pretty and you just want to kiss him all over his face.

Instead, you smile at him and place your hands on his cheeks, gently stroking his cheekbones with your thumbs.

When he stands up, he steals a kiss from you before bringing the object back in its place. He's cuddly.

Indeed, when he comes back to you and notices that you've already returned to the computer, his face falls and he approaches you.

"Y/n," he whines, sitting on the couch and looking at you, again, "Give me attention." He buries his face in the crook of your neck, hugging your waist, consequently causing you to take your fingers off the keyboard and raise your arms a little to give him space.

"Chan..." you call him, exhausted, "I have to work on the project, you know; I can't get distracted." You affirm.

It's been a few days since you spent some time with him, but only because you have to work on your bachelor project for graduation. You procrastinated, thinking it would be easy, but you regret it because it turned out to be harder than you thought, and now you have so much to do, and you just feel stressed.

"Yes, you can," he says, looking up at you, "Leave the computer for a little while and be with me; I missed you these days." He says the last sentence with a lower tone, pouty.

Guilt washes over you; you didn't want to stay away from him, but you thought it was necessary until this period is over.

"I missed you too, but you know how hard this work is and it takes time." You explain to him, as if he hadn’t already understood.

He sighs. He's trying to get your attention so you’ll take a break. He's not actually good at it himself, but when it comes to you, he knows what’s best for you and he’s always ready to help you understand it. But you didn't listen to him, and now he finds himself having to force you in a way that doesn't make you understand his true intentions.

But you understood. "Are you trying to distract me from the project?"

He keeps his gaze low and he’s silent for a few seconds, and you can clearly hear the thousand thoughts running through his head as he searches for a good answer.

But he doesn't find it. "Why should I?" He asks instead.

"Because you've been trying for days, and you're insisting too much on needing attention, it's unlike you." It's true. Chan can ask for cuddles, but he's never too insistent if he sees that you're busy doing something else.

"Uh... maybe?" Then he groans, "Yes, you’re right." He admits, "Can you take a short break now and spend time with your boyfriend? Please?" He asks pleadingly.

You're ready to say no, but then you stop to look at him. You sigh and chuckle slightly at his desperation.

Actually, thinking about it, you're tired. It wouldn't hurt to detach yourself from the subject that has kept you busy and isolated from the rest of the world for days.

That's why after saving the progress of the work on the document you were writing, you lie down in bed with him.

Your head is resting on his chest, the steady beat of his heart serene and soothing to your ears as he places an arm over your body in an affectionate gesture.

His hand caresses your hair as you gently scratch his still arm.

“You should never forget to take care of yourself, even if you’re busy; it worries me otherwise.” he says seriously, looking at an indistinct point in the room.

“That’s why you’re here with me.” you indirectly thank him, kissing the bare skin of his chest.

“Yet you don’t listen to me.” he disapproves, but it’s more playful now.

“Now you understand how I feel every time you work too much and don’t listen to me.” you tease.

“I’ll listen to you more often from now on.” he promises, but you don’t believe his words. You won’t until you see actual actions, but you know he really wants to try and will do his best.

“You need to keep your word though.”

His legs shift in the bed, rolling to one side and then returning, “I will.”

You bring out your pinky finger from one hand and present it to him. He looks at it for a few seconds, surprised, then crosses his own finger with yours, smiling at your cuteness, “You know it doesn’t mean anything to me, right?”

“But it does to me,” you say, “So commit to keeping the promise.”

“Right now, it’s you who needs to keep that same promise, though.”

“I never promised anything.” you speak the pure and authentic truth, but naturally he doesn’t like this.

You understand it especially when you feel his hand on your hair stop at a point, grab some strands, and pull slightly but enough to cause you pain.

“Ow!” You complain, giving him a light slap on the arm resting on you, then sitting up to look him in the face, “Why did you do that?!” You snap at him.

He gives you a fiery look, “You didn’t promise, but you’ll do it anyway.” He tries to sound serious and threatening, but seeing how cute you look while massaging your head, he can’t help but chuckle and wrap his arms around you in a loving embrace. You always get your way with him, even without trying.

“What, you love me now?” You say, offended, making him roll his eyes and ignore your dramatic words.

“Will you give me those kisses I asked for earlier, now?”

[scarletlizzard]

Valentines Day

Pairing: wanda x female reader

Tags Minors DNI: fluff, tooth rotting fluff, smut, fingering, strap on use (R receiving), oral (W receiving), blink and you'll miss it parent trauma, love ×4, reader being a hopeless romantic

Masterlist

A/N: Happy Valentines Day, my loves!! I hope everyone has a wonderful day filled with love. And if you don't have a Valentine, you do now! ❤️ Just remember you're loved beyond what you think 😊

Thanks for reading! Be my Valentine?

□ Yes

□ No

■ In a delusional relationship with Wanda Maximoff

(I totally understand, you picked correctly)

❤️❤️❤️❤️

Valentines Day was a special day for you.

You loved, love. The idea of being in love, the idea of someone loving you. Every year it came around, you wished you had someone to spoil with love and flowers and notes. To feel the butterflies in your stomach.

Thankfully, love came in many different forms.

10 Years Old

"What's a Valentine?" You hear from across the room a girl ask your teacher. The class was working on Valentines Day cards during art. You quickly looked up from the card to see the teacher walk to the girl.

"Well, you can ask someone to be your Valentine, or someone could ask you," she says softly and leans down over the brown headed girls' desk. "You see a valentine can be anyone special to you. A friend, a love, anyone you admire."

The small girl nods thoughtfully and looks back towards you. With wide eyes, you blush and look back to the card you were working on, coloring in a crooked heart on the front.

"Who's your Valentine?" The boy sitting next to you asks, causing giggles from the classroom.

"My valentine," she thinks for a moment and looks around the room. "Well, all of you, of course!" The class laughs again, and you can't help the smile on your small face.

"And who is your Valentine, Pietro?" The teacher smirks at the boy next to you. He doesn't move or cower, but with confidence, he stands and looks at the table next to you.

"Mary, will you be my Valentine?" Pietro asks a tiny girl with glasses and blonde pigtails. Her face turns red as the class laughs.

You can hear them talking as you continue to work on your card, putting extra care into the portrait inside. To anyone else, it was a child's drawing, but to you, it was your best work. You finish coloring, and with your best handwriting, you sign the card, adding a few more hearts.

Pietro nudges your shoulder, causing you to close the card quickly.

"That was easy! Who is yours?" he smiles and tries to grab your card.

"Pietro, stop!" You groan as you push him away, the two of you laughing as you play. He finally gives up, and you hold the card to your chest.

"Fine, don't tell your best friend.." Pietro says and shakes his head, smiling.

At the end of every day, you meet the Maximoffs out front of school to walk home. Today, you were met with only Wandas smiling face.

"Where's Pietro?" You ask as the two of you begin to walk side by side.

"He's walking with Mary ," Wanda giggles and jumps over a large crack in the sidewalk. You think back to earlier when she asked the teacher what a valentine was, and you stopped walking.

She gives you a curious look as you take your backpack off and set it on the ground, opening it up.

"I um.. I have.. well, here," you manage to get out, handing the card you so carefully made to Wanda. She smiles as she takes it from you, staring at the heart on the front. When she opens it inside, she sees a drawing of the two of you, the words inside:

Thanks for being my best friend

Will you be my Valentine?

To: Wands

From: Y/N

The writing is messy and crooked, as you were a better artist than you were with words. By now, your backpack was back on, and Wanda looked to you with a wide grin.

"Of course I will!" She laughs excitedly and throws her arms around you in a quick hug. A weird feeling in your stomach happens as she does, but you ignore it and hug her back.

Wanda takes your hand and begins walking again, swinging your hands back and forth and holding the homemade card in her other hand.

"Y/N?" Wanda asks as the two of you reach her house.

"Yeah, Wands?" You smile at her and watch as she picks a red flower out of the bush in her front yard. She hands it to you with red cheeks.

"Since we're best friends, we should be Valentines every year." You take the flower and smile.

"Every year?" You ask her. Wanda nods quickly.

"Okay then, Valentine. Every year!" The two of you laugh and go your separate ways.

17 Years Old

You stand at your open locker, switching out books between classes when a person hits their back against the locker next to yours.

"What are your plans tomorrow?" He asks and raises an eyebrow, signature smirk on his lips. You think about the card in your backpack and shrug, looking to the blonde haired boy.

"I don't think I'm doing anything this year," you mumble. Pietro frowns and gives you a confused look.

"I thought you and Wanda always do something?" He asks, and you sigh, looking away.

"She'll probably do something with Jarvis. He is her boyfriend..."

"Oh whatever, the guys a loser," Pietro scoffs and looks at you with a knowing eyes.

"Did you ask anyone else?" He asks, again, knowing.

You shake your head. "Not this year."

You look up at him and follow his gaze down the hall. Wanda stood talking to Jarvis, seeming to have a heated discussion. She rolls her eyes and shakes her head at the boy.

"Hey, I can be your Valentine. I mean, close enough to Wanda, right?" Pietro smiles at you, and you raise an eyebrow, cheeks heating.

"I don't know what you're talking about," you shrug and close the locker. He laughs.

"Oh, you're right. I have no clue that you're in love with my sister, my mistake," he puts his hands up in defense, another smirk on his face. "I'm not as dumb as you two think I am. Certainly not as dumb as her for not getting it...." Pietro puts a comforting hand on your shoulder.

"Is it that obvious?" You groan and rest your head against his shoulder. He hugs you tightly.

"Painfully..." He chuckles.

So there you sat on Valentines Day in your bedroom, for the first year without a Valentine.

Every year you and Wanda would do something together, you would always make her a card. She would always get you flowers. Maybe you would watch a movie or take a walk to the 24/7 dinner that serves your favorite pancakes.

You had two partners before, both cut short due to the fact that your heart belonged to someone else. Wanda also had boyfriends and girlfriends before, but they never stayed together long enough to matter, and she never seemed to have one during Valentines.

You knew eventually it would happen.

Eventually your best friend, who you were deeply, fucked up ridiculously, in love with, would be with someone else. You hadn't told her how you felt, because you didn't want to ruin what you had... you weren't sure if she felt the same way and you couldn't risk the friendships of the two most important people in your life.

So you were trying to be okay with the fact that you were by yourself. You put on a stupid cheesy rom com on your laptop and pulled the blanket up on your chest. Trying not to think of Wanda.

A noise against the window disrupts your train of thoughts. You groan and turn up the movie, but the tapping sound happens again, and again.

Until finally, you hear a 'crack' and sit up quickly. You turn to your right to the window and see a small crack in your window, thankfully not splintering off into more cracks. When you walk over and look outside, you see Wanda down below with her hands on her mouth. You open the window and look down at her with a surprised expression.

"Wanda.. what are you doing here? And why are you breaking my window?" You whisper down to her.

"Oh my god, I-I'm so sorry! I was trying to throw rocks! You know? Like in those movies you love!" She's laughing nervously now, and you can't help but laugh with her. "Can I come up?" She asks, and you nod, waving your hand.

You quickly step back to check yourself in the mirror, running your fingers through your messy hair and groaning at the sight of your red looking eyes. You rub them a little as you hear Wanda climbing into the window.

"That tree gets harder to climb every year," she mumbles to herself and plants her feet on the floor, smiling at you. The two of you stand staring for a moment in silence.

"Hi..." Wanda whispers, coaxing you as she takes a step forward. You roll your eyes playfully and laugh.

"Hi..." You whisper back, looking to her hand behind her back.

"You um, you didn't make me card this year," her voice is soft, tone almost hurt sounding. You look around the room and shrug.

"I wasn't sure if I should." As you speak, she holds out a red rose, the same rose she gave you every year from the bush in front of her house. You take it with a smile, ignoring the butterflies in your stomach as her fingers brush against yours.

"Well, it's okay, you're still my Valentine." Wanda speaks matter of factly and puts her hands in her jean pockets. You raise an eyebrow at her.

"But what about...?" You ask, hinting to her boyfriend. Wanda nods and hums.

"Well, we uh, broke up yesterday."

"Wanda.. why didn't you tell me?"

"Why do you keep calling me that?" She asks back, ignoring your question. You frown.

"Your name?" You raise an eyebrow, confused. Wanda moves to sit on the edge of your bed, resting her hands on her knees.

"You've called me Wands since we were 10 years old. The past couple of months, you haven't said it once..."

And there it was again, the hurtful tone of voice and sad green eyes. Had you really not? The couple of months she's been.. dating Jarvis. You've been trying to hold back, you hadn't even realized.

Instead of speaking, you turn your back and reach for your backpack by your desk, pulling out a homemade card. With red cheeks, you hand it to her, standing in front of her nervously.

Wanda smiles at the front, a detailed heart on the cover. Inside was an intricate penciled portrait of her, down to every detail. The smile lines on her cheeks, the few freckles, that could have formed a constellation, spread on her face. She half gasped half chuckled as her fingers traced the lines, along with the heartfelt words you wrote beside it. At the bottom signed:

Thanks for being my everything

Will you be my Valentine?

To: Wands

From: Y/N

"You know, for such an amazing artist, your handwriting still looks like it did in grade school," she jokes as she looks up at you. You finally break a smile at the comfort of her joking demeanor. You sit next to her on the bed and stare at the rose in your hand.

"I don't think it'll ever get better," you sigh with a chuckle, feeling her shoulder press against yours. There's a quiet moment before she speaks again.

"I couldn't see him being my Valentine," Wanda speaks quietly, turning to face you. You do the same, heart in your throat. "I couldn't see him being my anything, really..." She leans closer, you can smell the scent of her cinnamon gum and vanilla perfume as she does.

"Oh?" You swallow hard as her face is inches from yours. She nods slowly.

"There's really only one person I want... but I don't know if she feels the same," Wanda mumbles, eyes glancing from your lips back to your eyes.

"I'm sure anyone, especially her, would love to have you," you whisper, feeling her arm move around your waist.

"You think so?" A small smirk on her lips makes the butterflies in your stomach flap their wings.

"Definitely..." You nod, bringing a hand up to caress her cheek.

It's when Wanda leans in and closes the space between you, her soft lips moving against yours, that the butterflies inside of you soar.

21 Years Old

Wanda giggles as she pulls you inside her bedroom, shutting the door. She wastes no time pressing your back against it, her lips attaching to the curve of your neck.

"Happy Valentines Day, babygirl..." Wanda whispers against your skin. You smile and grip onto the back of her shirt tightly.

"Happy Valentines, Wands..." You rasp out as she sucks harshly on your pulse point. "Oh! Y-Your card," you moan as her hands find their way under your dress.

Wanda pulls back with a smile, "Y/N, do we really need to worry about the card right now?" You take in her puffy red lips and darkened eyes, the way her hair was already ruffled from when your fingers tangled through the strands. She looked like she wanted to devour you.

"I um guess we can probably worry about that later," you giggle and lean in.

"Thank god," She laughs as she meets you, kissing your lips with the same passion she always did. You can taste the alcohol on her tongue as she slides it into your mouth. Wanda lifts your dress up your thighs, her knee pressing between your legs.

"I'm so glad you wore this pretty dress to dinner," she groans into your mouth, grabbing your hips and pushing them down. You grind yourself onto her thigh, feeling yourself become wetter with every move of her leg.

"Just for you, baby," you moan and hold onto the sides of her neck, fingers brushing against her sharp jaw.

"That's right sweetheart move your hips- just like that, fuck you're so pretty..." Wanda purrs and lets her lips travel back to your neck. You feel the burn in your stomach become hotter, coiling up inside as your clit rubs against the rough fabric of her pants. You can't help the whimper escape your lips as your desperation builds.

"Wands, I need you to touch me please," you beg.

She doesn't waste another minute taking you to her bed, the two of you undressing each other as you stumble backward giggling. You loved that about Wanda, how comfortable she always made you feel in every moment. That even in the most intimate of moments, you could still laugh.

You lay your head down onto her pillow, the tantalizing smell of vanilla and Wanda invading your senses, as she crawls on top of you. She kisses every inch of skin she can, whispering sweet words as she does. Your hands grab onto any part of her that you can, nails scraping the skin of her back.

"Just like that baby?" Wanda smirks as two fingers slip inside of you, pumping in and out at an even pace. You moan at her words and nod, holding onto the back of her neck.

"Y-Yes just like that fuck!" She watches your chest become red, spreading up to your neck and cheeks. Wanda would never get tired of that fucking blush. It only drove her to move her fingers faster, curling them inside of you as she did. Her mouth collides against yours in another heated kiss, the two of you moaning into the other.

She feels you tighten around her fingers and whispers, "Cum for me babygirl. That's it, that's it baby.." coaxing the orgasm out of you.

Wanda gives you a moment to come down before removing her fingers. As she kisses your jaw, you let out a happy sigh.

"Let's try it out," you whisper, nodding your head in the direction of the new box on her end table. Wanda pulls back with a glint in her eye.

"Yeah?" She smiles widely, and you nod, watching her closely as she stood from the bed.

You don't think you would ever get over seeing your girlfriend, bare for your eyes only. She was beautiful, the most perfect woman alive. It doesn't take long for her to climb back on top of you, this time with a strap attached at her hips.

"It might be a little bit uncomfortable at first, but it'll feel so good," she assures as she presses the tip up and down your slick folds, your arousal wetting the plastic cock easily. "Just tell me if it's too much, okay?"

Wanda gives you a serious look, making your heart swell at the care she took in you. You nod, "I will Wands," you whisper and watch as she smiles.

She slides it in slowly, pausing to check on you as she stretches you out. The feeling was new and unexpected. Wanda peppers your face with soft kisses and praises you as you become adjusted.

"You're doing so good for baby..."

"Almost all of it, just a little bit more..."

"There you go, that's it, sweetheart..."

As she bottoms out inside of you, her hips meet yours, a moan leaves her lips at the feeling of the strap rubbing her deliciously. You reach your hands up to move the fallen strands of brown hair out of her face and your arms wrap around her sides. Wandas soft hands move to fold your legs around her waist, you feel her move deeper inside of you.

"You okay?" She asks carefully, looking down at you.

"I'm okay, it-it feels good," you rasp out as she begins to move a little faster.

"Just- fuck -just tell me if it's too much okay baby?" Wanda moans and the look on her face, the pleasure between her parted lips and furrowed brows would be enough to draw out another orgasm.

You lean up and kiss her again. It's a messy kiss as the two of you begin breathing heavier, Wanda finding a steady rhythm as she thrusts inside of you.

"Christ, Wands, it feels so good," you moan into her mouth.

Her arm slides underneath your shoulders, bodies pressing impossibly close as she rocks into you.

"I love you so much, so much," she breathes against your skin, her lips attaching to your neck.

Your fingers dig into her skin, one hand scratching up her back as you hold onto the back of her neck. "I love you - oh god! - so much baby," you stutter out as her pace quickens, another orgasm quickly approaching.

The way she held onto you, the kisses she left on your skin, the whispers of how beautiful you were, you had never felt more loved in your whole life. As Wanda kisses you again with a smile on her lips, you feel the love you held for her swell in your chest, the butterflies in your stomach going wild at the sounds of her moaning your name.

You look over at the alarm clock on Wandas' nightstand, seeing 3am. She has her arms wrapped around you, both of your legs tangled together as you turn back to face her.

"We stayed up all night," you giggle with red cheeks, looking at her peaceful demeanor. Your finger runs across her chest, marking a path from the marks you left on her skin.

"Totally, totally worth it," Wanda chuckles and scrunches her nose. You can't help but lean forward to kiss it. "You know what I could really go for right now?"

She smiles at the way your eyes light up excitedly.

"Pancakes?" You ask.

"Pancakes."

So there you were at almost 4 in the morning at the dinner you had shared many pancakes with Wanda over the years, sitting in the same booth, dressed in one of Wandas shirts and a pair of her sweatpants.

You slide her homemade card across the table.

"For you, my love," you smile brightly at her, watching eagerly as she reads the card and brushes her fingertips over the drawing inside.

"I think this might be your best handwriting yet," Wanda jokes with a smirk, acting shocked when you throw a napkin at her. "I love it so much." She holds it to her chest, meaning it.

"I um, I got you something a little different this year," she says quietly, her cheeks becoming a light shade of pink. You look curiously as she reaches for something in her pocket.

She sets a small velvet box on the table, and your eyes go wide at the sight of it. "Wanda..." You whisper, her eyes going wide too.

"It's not exactly what you think! Its.." She puts her head down and laughs to herself, amazed she still had nerves when talking to you after all these years. "Here," she says and hands it to you.

You open the box to find a gold ring. The band was made of little gold metal leaves and thorns, at the top sat a red gem.

"It's a rose that will last forever," she says as you stare at the ring. "There will be more flowers, and there will be another ring, in the future." She makes clear and reaches out to take your hand, sliding the ring onto your finger. "For my little Valentine, a rose for every day."

Tears well in your eyes at the sentiment, at the way she softly held onto your hand and looked at you with a gentle smile. Her green eyes shimmer in the dim lighting of the old diner, the blue lights that lit up the sign outside highlight the angles of her face.

Looking at the smile on Wandas lips and the blush on her cheeks is enough for the swarm of butterflies to take flight inside you, beating their delicate wings against the walls of your stomach.

25 Years Old

"Please go check on her for me? It'll make me feel better if I know she's okay," Wanda says to her twin, fixing the bowtie that lay crooked on his shirt.

"Sestra, you have nothing to worry about. Y/N is in the other room right now, totally fine," Pietro says with a comforting smile. He leans in to kiss Wandas cheek, stopping at the door before he walks out to give her another look. "You really do look beautiful..." He says softly.

Wanda smiles as she looks in the mirror then to him, her skin reddening under the white lace.

"Thank you, Pietro..." She whispers. He nods, leaving the small room to walk down the hall to yours.

"Alright, Y/N, you ready to -" Pietro stops as he shuts the door behind him. He watches as you look over to him with a sad smile, a few tears falling down your face. You quickly wipe them away.

"Hey, sorry is it time?" You ask with a small sniffle. Pietro raises an eyebrow.

"You aren't walking out on my sister, are you? Cause that will be really awkward for both of us."

You can't help but chuckle at his joke, feeling relief when he steps closer and pulls you into a comforting hug. He gives you a moment to cry on the shoulder of his tux, resting his cheek on the top of your head.

As he looks around the empty room, he realizes the reason for your tears.

"They aren't coming, are they?" Pietro sighs and hugs you tighter as you shake your head no.

"Well, no worries... I happen to be great at walking girls down the aisle." He pulls back, signature smirk on his face.

You wipe your eyes as you look at him, "Really?"

"Y/N, we've been best friends forever, I already think of you as my sister..." He chuckles and hands you a tissue.

As you wipe your tears, you look up to the man, seeing the little boy who grew up beside you all those years ago. The one who teased you about everything, playful fights in the halls. The one who was always the shoulder to cry on. The one who always made you laugh when you needed to smile.

"Thank you, Pietro. For everything." You sigh and hug him again, thanking God for the Maximoff twins.

"Now... I told Wanda you were doing totally fine in here, so we're going to keep that lie going."

You finally smile, and when it reaches your eyes, Pietro grins, holding his arm out to you.

Wanda smiles as her father kisses her forehead, dropping her off at the altar. Although, it fades as she looks beside her parents to see a missing spot. Her eyebrows furrow as she looks for her twin, worry getting the best of her as her eyes search for him.

But when she looks down the aisle and sees the woman who held her heart, arm in arm with the man who was her other half, she can't help the tears that stream down her cheeks or the smile that takes over her face.

"When we were 10 years old, you handed me a card and asked me to be your Valentine," Wanda says and takes your hand in hers, squeezing tightly. "I told you since we were best friends we should just be each others Valentines every year."

Guests around the room chuckle from their seats, a blush forms on your face at the memory and the way her green eyes hold so much love for you as she stares into your own. The world around you blurs, and time seems to stop as the words leave Wandas mouth. In that moment, it truly was just the two of you.

"So I'm saying now, that I want to be your Valentine forever."

The two of you exchange rings, and Wanda slides another band next to the rose ring you already wore.

On this Valentines Day, you say "I Do," and listen to the same two words slip her tongue.

And when instructed to kiss the bride, she wraps her arms around your lower back and pulls you to her, kissing you as if she wanted to convey a lifetime of affection in that one moment. With each kiss, Wanda could feel your love pouring into her a warmth spreading through her body like sunlight on her favorite summer day.

Amongst the cheers and applause of both of your loved ones, you felt the same feeling you always did inside of you when you were with Wanda, a kaleidoscope of butterflies in a storm.

32 Years Old

"Ohh sweetheart, just like that fuck!" Wanda half whispers half moans, her fingers tangling in your hair as you continue to let your mouth devour her. Your hands hold onto her thighs, keeping them spread as you lick upwards and suck on her clit.

A soft sigh escapes her lips, her back arching in response to the sensation. A gentle blush spreads across her cheeks as she looks down to see your eyes were already on her, watching her reaction. You hum against her, the vibrations causing her to surrender to the pleasure.

"Baby I'm gonna cum! Don't stop, please - oh god," she says and feels your hand reach up to cover her mouth.

With each breath, she feels a wave of bliss wash over her, a symphony of pleasure leaving her lips. You moan against her, your tongue lapping up everything she'll give you.

Wanda lets out an exasperated laugh as you finish, covering her face with her hands. You smile up at her, lips wet with her arousal as you chuckle at the sight of her.

"I told you I wanted breakfast in bed this morning," you grin, and she laughs even harder, catching her breath. You grab her hand and kiss the finger that wore her wedding ring.

"Happy Anniversary, Wands..." You say with a cheeky smile. The blush stays on her face as she leans up to kiss you, tasting herself.

"Happy Anniversary, my little Valentine," she smiles into the kiss and wraps her arms around your neck.

"About that..." You say with a joking wince, looking at the confused expression on her face.

"So you aren't going to ask me to be your Valentine this year?" Wanda pouts and gives you her best sad eyes. You kiss her nose.

"Unfortunately, you're going to have to share," you say, and at the realization, Wanda nods. Her heart flutters in her chest as she looks at you with a soft smile.

"I suppose we will have to share, won't we?" Wanda giggles, and you can't help but laugh as you hear small knocking on the door to your bedroom.

The two of you quickly help clean each other up in a fit of giggles and kisses, and as you walk to the door, you both hear the voices of tiny whispering from behind the wood.

"What color is yours?"

"Mom likes red so I did that,"

"But I did red too!"

"It's fine yours is different!"

You open the door to reveal the other set of twins that held your heart, a smile on your face as you see the pair holding a piece of paper each.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" You ask and watch as Tommy runs in the room, jumping on the bed into Wandas arms. Billy just smiles up at you, and you chuckle with a small shake of your head as you lift him up.

"We made you Valentimes Day cards!" He beams at you, his eyes sparkling with pride. Your eyes meet Wandas at his adorable pronunciation of the word, a small silent laugh shared between you as you carry him to the bed.

As the four of you sit in the bed, boasting over your boys handmade cards decorated with crayon hearts and crooked letters of messages with love, you feel the purest form of love.

You look from the twins to your wife, feeling her squeeze your hand as her eyes set on yours. A surge of gratitude and love wash over you.

You think back to all of the Valentines leading up to this one, wondering how you could've gotten so lucky. You felt lucky to be surrounded by so much love, to know what it felt like to be loved.

Wanda leans over and kisses your cheek, seeing the overwhelming happiness in your eyes.

"Our two little Valentines," she says with a chuckle, kissing the top of the boys head.

[judenostopwaitkeepgoing]

Telling Your Villain That You're Expecting! 👶

18+ | Fluff (w/ a teensy bit of Angst) | US-released!Villains x Fem!Reader

You share the big news with your partner, who may or may not be thrilled by the idea of becoming a father...

A/N: Hehehehe Crown confronted with fatherhood let's gooooo! Some of the villains are happier about this than others! Also slight spoilers for Liam, so skip him if you want to go into his route totally fresh. Implied hints about Elbert, Alfons, and Ellis kind of as well? If you squint. Deviates from canon for a few of them. Also sorry Jude's is longer, he's my favorite lol. Enjoy!!

William Rex

his face cracks into a stunningly captivating grin. "what wonderful news!" he says, his entire demeanor taking on a prideful glow. he takes you in his arms and nuzzles his forehead against yours. he's genuinely overjoyed. he can't stop smiling. "a little princess," he murmurs. "or prince," you say, unable to contain your blissful laughter. "or prince," he purrs in agreement. get ready to have every wish or whim that so much as crosses your mind granted! and yet somehow never feel smothered? you are in for one smooth pregnancy with will around. 

Harrison Gray

speechless. the look on his face is so thoroughly shocked, you're almost uncertain how to take it... "...are you... okay?" you venture after a moment. this seems to prompt the news finally registering. he lets out a kind of baffled sigh/laugh, his expression relaxing into a sweet smile. "we're... you're—" you had never seen harry this speechless. it was kind of satisfying. you smiled, taking his hands in yours. "yes, we're having a baby." he can tell by your eyes you're not lying! and... he's mostly shocked by how overjoyed he feels.

Liam Evans

"stop messing around y/n!" your heart skips at the subtle edge to liam's laughter. you had been worried that this might not be exactly happy news... you imagined liam probably had a pretty complex relationship with the idea of being a father, after how his own father had treated him. And you two hadn't exactly planned for this... "Liam," you said his name in the most soothing, reassuring tone you could muster, taking his hand gently in yours. he looked you in the eye, his amused smile slowly slipping away. "y/n..." he said your name and you watched as he slowly came to understand. "liam, i'm so happy about this," you said, seeing him freeze up slightly. "y/n..." the two of you sat close together for what felt like a long moment, you just gently holding his hand. "y/n..." liam said, finally squeezing your hand in return, "...if i'm going to have a child... i'm so glad that child has you as a mother." he lets out a shaky breath as he pulls you into a sudden, tight embrace. your heart pangs, but you're relieved—this is the first step to helping liam see what a great father he will be. 

Elbert Greetia

"you're..." elbert's beautiful ocean blue eyes are wide open in shock, his voice trailing off. "i'm pregnant," you repeat, trying to communicate with your face how elated you are. elbie's eyebrows start to knit, then something quivers in his expression... he seems at a loss for words. "say something, lord elbert," you say, adjusting your face so that you're peering into his eyes. "i'm happy..." you notice that his eyes look almost teary, sending a jolt of tenderness surging through your body. "elbert—" you hardly have his name out before he is pulling you into an engulfing hug. "but," his breath is hot and urgent against your ear, "i'm afraid that—this child will be the most beautiful thing in the world..." the tremble in his voice told you all you needed to know. you squeezed him tighter, and told him in a calm, sure voice, "i'm not worried about that." from here on out, he's gonna be even more glued to your hip!

Alfons Sylvatica

"ah, not to worry," he claps his hands together, his playful demeanor not changing in the slightest, "i know a doctor who can—" "alfons!" you cut him off before he can go further, your glaring eyes sending the message that he'd better take this seriously. he tries to maintain his usual bemused façade, but you notice something glinting in his eyes for the briefest of moments. then, he suddenly steps closer to you. "you know," his tone is smug, but firm, "i hate to be cold, my sweet robin, but if i'm being honest i can't see the point in introducing yet another miserable soul into this tragedy called life." "that soul doesn't have to be miserable," you counter without hesitation. he looks at you for a long moment without speaking, his expression focused until he lets out an exasperated sigh. "while i have no doubt that child would be anything but miserable with you as a mother," you could see his brows tense, "i don't think i would say the same about having me as a father." and thus another bittersweet chapter in your relationship with alfons begins...

Roger Barel

"i knew it," he says, smug smile filling his face almost immediately. "what do you mean 'you knew it?'" you playfully slap at his arm, eliciting a low, sexy laugh. "you hadn't had your period in a while," he said simply. you can feel your face going bright red. "you keep track of my period!?" "of course i do," roger leaned back against the edge of the work table behind him, resting confidently on his elbows. you hated how good he looked, scanning you up and down like you were a specimen. "well... good for you! you already knew!" you couldn't help but pout, slightly deflated by this reaction to sharing the news with him... but this is roger we're talking about so of course your sulking just made him want to tease you more. "i'll let you know when i can hear the heartbeat," he murmurs in your ear, making you freeze up and then playfully swat at him even more. he's glad that you're being so cute and tease-able... because the truth is his heart is hammering out of control with excitement.

Victor

"a baby!?" victor's voice practically breaks the glass in the windows of the dining room. "victor!" you can't help but laugh at his reaction—you were hoping for something dramatic. he immediately drops what he was doing and takes you in his arms, practically picking you up and spinning you around. "oh my darling y/n!" he is over the moon. "i'll start thinking of names! and finding cute little clothes! oh! we should turn the empty room across from your room into the nursery! i'll get some servants to acquire fabric samples. oh, and wallpaper, and—" you can't help but chuckle as you take his beaming face between your hands, bringing his excited babbling to a halt. "yes, let's do all of that." you whisper. the two of you share a loving, tender kiss, ecstatic about your future child.

Jude Jazza

"what?" jude's eyes narrowed, his cold gaze fixed right on you. you knew it was bold to come to his office without notice, but you had to rip the bandaid off. "i'm preg—" you start, but the sudden, loud scrape of jude's chair cuts you off. you flinch slightly as he strides out of the office, slamming the door behind him. you let out a shaky sigh—maybe ignoring you was for the best. plus... you could have sworn you'd caught a glimmer of panic in his profile as he left the room... Is he... scared? But you swatted the thought away before you could even indulge it. That night, you toss and turn in bed. Jude had yet to return. You decide to go find him—searching the castle until you finally spot him in a far corner of the library, hunched over a table in intense focus, surrounded by books, scribbling frantic notes. "Jude?" you call his name softly, but he doesn't look up. You slowly approach his notes, and as you get closer you can see pages filled with numbers and annotations. "what's all this?" you venture. "budgets." he answers, still not looking up from his work. "what are you budgeting?" you decide to try to keep the conversation going. but before you can register what's happening, he's flinging his quill down and taking you roughly by the arm. his grip is quite firm, but he gently pulls you close to him, his face inches from yours and his expression grim. "look, i can't promise much but i can promise this kid ain't ever gonna be hungry because of me, ya got that?" his words bit into you like a feral animal, but you felt an odd sense of relief rushing through you. "got it," you breathed, afraid to move for fear of jude losing it right there, the intensity in his gaze different from any you'd seen before. you decided to let his tight grip sink into your forearm, darkly overjoyed at the future it signaled.

Ellis Twilight

you knew that you had to tell ellis at some point... but even you had neglected to anticipate that he would pick up on something on his own. "you look extra happy lately, y/n." ellis's kind smile filled you with a pang of guilt. how could you tell him such happy news? if he knew that the moment you found out was the happiest you'd ever felt, then wouldn't he... but, maybe that could be your excuse? "i am extra happy," you smiled, making ellis's ears perk up. "but not as happy as i was a few days ago." he looked puzzled. "why were you happy a few days ago?" he asked, his innocent tone making your heart ache slightly. "well, i found out... that i'm going to have your child," you said as matter-of-fact my as possible. but you felt ellis freeze next to you. it was silent for a moment before you looked at him, his expression hard to read beneath his hair. "...ellis?" you hesitated. "y/n," his voice sounded slightly forbidding, but he took your hand gently in his, bringing it slowly to his face, until he was nuzzling into your palm. Only then could you see the heartbreakingly tender look on his face. "I'm so happy..." he said softly, "...does this mean... we'll be bound together forever?" And before you could stop yourself, your lips captured his, and he was right—he didn't let you go for a long, long time...