cactus-frog

[cactus-frog]

james buchanan ‘bucky’ barnes

masterlist • marvel • 05/13/25

˚‧⁺ ･ ˖ · ୨ৎ recs six

one I two I three I four I five

𑣲 friendly banter I @wwinterwitch

sam asks for your help on a mission. you're reunited with him, Joaquín and Bucky. the last one really likes to banter. you think it's just a friendly exchange. it's actually a bit more than that

𑣲 friendly introductions I @/wwinterwitch

bucky unexpectedly shows up at your apartment, and he's brought a few people with him

𑣲 a place for yelena I @eufezco

after disappearing for weeks, consumed by her own darkness, yelena shows up in your house unexpectedly and decides to reach out to you and bucky, her best friends, just to find out that you're pregnant and you wanted her in your baby's life.

𑣲 in the middle I @ama3003

Being caught in the middle is always hard.

𑣲 everything’s just perfect I @/ama3003

You're Bucky's ex-wife and you always seem to be there whenever he needs you.

𑣲 thunderbolts? I @ang3ltine

An unexpected surprise awaits you when Bucky shows up at your house with a group of strangers

𑣲 alone in this shitty world I @starktonyx

After Yelena’s sudden outburst, the group scatters around the streets of New York. And, as if this wasn’t already the weirdest day of your life, you find yourself reaching to comfort the last person you ever thought you'd feel sorry for, John Walker. And Bucky is as confused as you are.

𑣲 small circles I @aquaticmercy

Bucky Barnes is still getting used to modern dating… and hates that you have to work with your exes.

𑣲 interstate love song I @/aquaticmercy

Bucky tells the team he saw his Hydra days in The Void. You are the only one who knows him well enough to know he is lying.

𑣲 meet me halfway I @/aquaticmercy

Bucky has to recruit the love of his life to save New York from the void. He doesn't know if she wants to ever see him again, though.

𑣲 not exactly a secret I @navybrat817

You and Bucky are really good teammates... and more.

𑣲 don’t look or touch I @/navybrat817

Bucky isn't having a good day and John suffers the consequences.

𑣲 hit to the head I @/navybrat817

Bucky doesn't think he needs medical attention after a hit to the head, but he's glad he met you.

𑣲 for better or for worse I @helaintoloki

You want a divorce, but Bucky needs your help for one last mission. Luckily, marriage is all about compromise

𑣲 grumpy!bucky I @lovebugism

the one where bucky wants to kiss you but the rest of the thunderbolts won't seem to let him

𑣲 in the suit?! I @delicatebarness

𑣲 you or nothing I @feathersandferns

when the Thunderbolts enter the void, Bucky goes missing. You take it upon yourself to find him, venturing into his deepest pockets of his shame.

𑣲 midnight confessions I @jobean12-blog

A late night gives you the opportunity to flirt with Bucky and the next night he comes right back for more.

𑣲 drawing the line I @fireinmoonshot

Bucky Barnes has messed up big time ... he just doesn't know it until he sees you and realises he really should've checked his texts.

𑣲 super soldier domesticated I @writingcroissant

Domestic scenes with Bucky Barnes, because Bucky Barnes deserves to be happy.

𑣲 the one that got away I @writing-for-marvel

When Bucky enters the void, he expects his memories as The Winter Soldier to haunt him, or perhaps even death itself, instead, he finds himself face to face with you the night you broke up.

[cactus-frog]

home.

summary: after *yn* loses those closest to her in the battle against thanos, she decides to escape from any reminder of her past life as an Avenger, including Bucky. it was all going to plan, until an unfortunate encounter with a group of outcasts brings her back to him

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

warnings: swearing, angst, fluff, THUNDERBOLTS* SPOILERS!!!

notes: um this is weird. hi. I'm back. please enjoy <3 p.s thank you bucky for making me come out of retirement

A few years ago if *yn* was on a mission, she would have had an extraction team waiting for her, or a state of the art covert getaway vehicle or - if push really came to shove - a hammer wielding god who could pick her up like she weighed nothing and fly her to safety.

Now here she was in the middle of the desert, crouched down in the back of an offensively red limo being driven by a crazy Russian Santa, with a bunch of people she probably would have apprehended during her time as an Avenger all while being shot at by employees of her old boss.

Yeah, this was a new all time low.

"For the love of god please make this hunk of junk go fucking faster!" She shouted as she took a brief respite from firing at the vehicles behind them.

"How dare you. My beauty is no hunk of junk!" Alexei retorted back, his Russian accent heavy as he swerved to avoid a pothole.

*yn* rolled her eyes before poking her head up over Walker's shield and fruitlessly shooting at the windshields behind them.

"Someone better do something or we're fucked." Walker yelled as he curled himself over *yn* and Ava as the front vehicle opened fire again.

"Yelena hand me my vodka!" Alexei demanded as Valentina's men inched closer.

"You cannot be-"

"Vodka! Now!" Alexei roared. Yelena shut her mouth and grabbed the bottle of vodka from the dash.

*yn* watched as Alexei ripped the cap off and took a large swig. She opened her mouth to protest but left it open in shock as she watched him assemble a molotov cocktail and toss it through the sunroof before she could blink.

The limo fell silent for a brief moment as time slowed and the group watched the flaming bottle flip through the air. It landed cleanly on the windshield, flames licking up the sides of the glass.

Just like the flame, she felt a brief ember of hope flicker inside her. But just as quickly as it had emerged, it was immediately snuffed out as she watched the flames begin to sputter out.

"We need another- shit!" Walker exclaimed as the closest vehicle suddenly exploded. It flipped over and crashed in a fiery wreck to the side of the road.

"How is that possible?" Ava asked as everyone peered over the backseat through the shot out back window.

A rev of a different engine answered back.

*yn* felt her stomach lurch at the sight of an all too familiar motorcycle appearing from behind the envoy.

A glint of a metal hand wrapped around the front of the motorcycle caught her eye. The metal led a trail up to a pair of black sunglasses, framed by dark tresses of hair. A chiseled jaw set in a grimace was next to greet her.

Bucky.

"Oh my god it is Winter Soldier! My Russian brother!"

Cheers chorused through the limo as *yn* turned around and sunk back into the fraying seat.

It seemed that things could indeed get worse.

"Bucky come on, can't you see we're the good guys now."

"Yeah come on Bucky let us out of here."

*yn* tuned out the loud voices of the others as they spoke over the top of one another and struggled against their restraints.

Her whole body was throbbing from the impact of the limo flipping over thanks to Bucky's decision to plant a bomb underneath it.

Speaking of Bucky, she could feel his eyes on her as she blinked slowly, staring up at the rusting beams of the abandoned warehouse.

"Why is *yn* tied up anyway, she was an Avenger after all." *yn* couldn't control the visible flinch that contorted her body at Ava's question.

"Yeah, aren't you two pals? You wouldn't shut up about her in Munich."

John's words were all it took to shatter her resolve. Her eyes involuntarily flitting to where Bucky was standing. Those steel blue eyes found hers instantly. It felt like he was staring right through her and rummaging around through her soul.

She swallowed and cooled her features as she quickly averted her gaze from his. Her heart felt like it was about to burst out of her chest.

"I'm taking you all to D.C to testify against Val."

Protests erupted from the rest of the group.

"What, like now?" Yelena queried incredulously.

"Yes, like now."

"You can't. You don't know what Val has done, Bucky." She fired back. "There's this guy Bob who Val is using for something she’s calling Project Sentry and she's turned him into this unstoppable, unstable machine and it's only a matter of time until-"

"I'm sorry, did you say Bob?" Bucky raised a brow.

"Yes, Bob."

"Bob?"

"Bob!" They all confirmed in unison.

*yn* stole a glance at Bucky again to see the disbelief written across his face.

"Listen to them Bucky." Her voice was hoarse as her vocal chords finally stretched out.

His attention was fixed on her immediately and for some reason, when those eyes locked with hers, an unexplainable rush of rage coursed through her.

"Sorry, or is it Congressman Barnes now?" Her tone could not be described as anything but a sneer. Even she was surprised at the vitriol laced through it.

She didn't have a reason to be angry at him, not really. She supposed that she was just angry at the world. At herself.

His face hardened the second the words left her lips. Not too dissimilar to the way his face used to glaze over when he was fighting his Winter Soldier urges, or when a particular memory would come back to him and he tried not to show that he was effected by it. She could always tell when it was happening. And it happened alot.

"I need to talk to you." His tone was firm and authoritative as he marched over to her.

The rest of the group had seemed to somehow make the correct judgment that this was not the time to make a stupid remark. They all watched in silence as he cut through the rope wrapped around her abdomen.

"Alone."

She tucked her chin as she brought her arms in front of her, flexing her stiff wrists and fingers now that they were finally free of the binds. She glanced up at him to see him towering above her. He was studying her, like he was almost expecting her to tackle him.

She knew better than to engage in a fight with him right now, especially in her current condition.

"Fine."

She pushed herself off the floor and didn't spare the rest of the group a glance as she followed him towards another room.

A storage room, she realised as she stepped through the door. Bucky shut the door behind them, encasing the room in silence. It was surprisingly soundproof.

The rest of the group watched them mutely as they disappeared into the room.

"So did they date or what?" John remarked the second the door shut behind them.

"Yes there is much tension there." Alexei chimed in.

Yelena stared at the door as conversations she'd had with Nat climbed back into the forefront of her mind. She had heard about the stolen glances, the pining and the self sacrificing they'd each try and do every time the other was hurt on a mission.

"God those two, they make you want to bash their heads together. But they're kind of cute. You'll see what I mean if you meet them." Nat chuckled as she took a sip of her beer.

"I don't understand." Yelena's brow furrowed. "Why don't they just tell each other how they feel?"

Nat laughed at her sister and shook her head. "If only it were that simple. Not everyone is as straightforward as you, y'know. People are... complicated." Nat sighed as she gazed out the window.

"But *yn* and Bucky-" She cut herself off and shook her head. "I don't know. I'm a cynic, but... it'll happen. It might just take something big for them to see it."

Yelena pressed her mouth together firmly at the memory of her older sister.

"Worse." Yelena finally answered the group.

What was probably only a few moments of silence, stretched out for what felt like an eternity once the door closed behind them. *yn* turned her back to him to look out the grimy window at the sprawling desert that encased them.

"You look like shit."

*yn* snorted at his remark. She turned around to face him, crossing her arms over her chest. His gaze was still steely, his expression unreadable as he studied her.

"Well being in a vehicle when it gets blown up certainly doesn't help appearances."

Their brief interaction had given her a little bit more confidence. Like her body was starting to remember how comfortable she used to feel around him. She was most definitely rusty at this. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a proper conversation with someone since this whole saga started.

Bucky watched her as she took a step towards him.

All it took was for their eyes to lock and he was back at the Avengers Compound, watching her chat animately with Steve on the other side of the living room. Her cheeks flushed and her eyes twinkling as she threw her head back in laughter. He didn't forget the way Natasha nudged him and gave him a knowing look either.

She did look worse for wear, that was true. She was gaunter in her face, her eyes rimmed with dark circles. But it was her eyes that had changed the most. They looked flat, defeated, almost lifeless. But despite all that, she was still just as beautiful as she had been when he last saw her four years ago. It still only took one look from her for his heart to start beating just that little bit faster.

"I didn't know you were in the car."

*yn* was caught off guard by his soft admission.

"I know."

He frowned as he moved towards her. Like he’d just snapped out of daze and remembered where they were. "What the fuck are you doing out here?"

She averted her gaze at his question, her arms crossing back over her chest as if to form a barrier around herself.

"Don't tell me you were working for Val."

Just as Bucky got close enough that he could reach out and touch her if he wanted, she took a step back and angled her body towards the window once more.

"Quite the fall from grace, huh?" She remarked dryly.

"*yn*." This time there was a hint of desperation in his tone.

She turned her head slightly. The sun shining through the window behind her cast an almost ethereal glow around her side profile.

"Where the hell have you been?"

*yn* had no idea how to answer that question. What was she supposed to say? That she'd spent the last four years in a downward spiral, wandering around aimlessly in an attempt to avoid the reality that half of her friends were either dead or had up and left after Thanos. And that when that stopped working, she finally succumbed to Valentina's offer to work for her in a last desperate effort to drive the last few years of her life out of her memory by shooting people and blowing shit up (which she had failed at, miserably).

Because that's exactly what she'd done.

She'd been a super soldier for her own country, raised in a lab and injected with some replica of Erskine's serum. Until she went rogue and Nick Fury recruited her for some secret project he'd dubbed 'The Avengers.'

Earth's mightiest heroes apparently, although they were more like Earth’s mightiest disasters. All of them were damaged in some shape or form, but they'd somehow managed to become a family. A very dysfunctional one, but still a family. The only family she’d ever known. Steve and Nat in particular had taken her under their wing, she'd been the youngest in the team. And that was how she'd met Bucky.

She'd been through Steve's side through all of it, realising Bucky was alive, the battle at the Triskelion, the civil war that his existence started, helping him heal his mind.

She'd been in love with Bucky for as long as she could remember. And there was a small part of her that thought he might just feel the same way.

And then she got blipped.

When she came back, her best friend Natasha was dead and she was thrown back into chaos with no time to grieve or process the realisation that she'd missed out on five years of life. And then Tony died. And then Steve left them, without even saying goodbye.

The family she'd known and loved crumbled right before her very eyes. Everyone else took off, dealing with their own traumas in one way or another, and she was left to try and pick up her own pieces.

And she couldn't.

Someone who was supposed to be an Avenger, who helped save the entire universe, couldn't get her shit together.

She had wanted to go to Bucky. Had thought that maybe in the dusk of all of the chaos, they could build something. Help heal each other.

Sam had told her that he'd been ignoring his messages. She'd elected not to tell Sam that she in fact, had been ignoring Bucky's.

So a few months after Tony's funeral, she'd plucked up the courage to go see him at his apartment. That was when she happened to glance through the window of a nearby restaurant to see him with a woman she did not recognise seated a table and laughing.

A date, there was no doubt about it.

She had felt like such an idiot for thinking that there might have been possibly something between them. That she'd read into all the times she'd caught him staring at her, or the way he would someone manage to appear beside her anytime she was in danger on a mission.

She went home, packed up what she could in a backpack, and didn't look back.

"*yn*." Bucky's gruff voice sliced through her haze of thoughts.

"We should get going. Bob's in trouble." She muttered, moving to step past him towards the door.

A breath caught in her throat as the cool metal of his left hand gently wrapped around her bicep, keeping her in place.

"*yn*." This time his voice was barely more than a whisper. "Please."

She properly looked at him for the first time. Really looked at him. He was more tan since she'd last seen him. It was the same face she had fallen in love with all those years ago, with just a few extra lines that she'd not had a chance to memorise yet.

She pressed her lips into a line, feeling her chin wobble as she tried to keep her composure.

"What do you want me to say?" Her voice was hoarse as she tried to blink back the tears threatening to spill down her cheeks.

"You could have stayed. Could have carried on the Avenger's work."

She scoffed at that and pulled herself out of his grasp and put some distance between them once more.

"And done what exactly?" Her words were bitter as she glared at him. "Got into politics like you?"

"You think this has been easy for me?" His voice inched higher as he spoke. "That I don’t think about what I’ve done and how many lives I’ve taken every single moment of my life, even when I’m asleep?” He marched towards her once more so the pair were nearly chest to chest.

"Because I do.”

His words splashed water over the rage that was building up inside her.

"It wasn't you who did those things." Her tone softened as she spoke.

"Maybe. But it's my face who people remember."

Silence enveloped the pair as they studied eachother. Their minds racing through all of the trauma they've endured on their own and together.

"I'm weak. *yn* admitted after a few moments. It felt almost freeing to say those words out loud. Like she had taken the padlock off a chest that hoarded all of her deepest and darkest thoughts.

"That's why I ran. I couldn't handle it. The memorials, the biographies, the questions about who was going to replace them I-" She shook her head as the first few months after the battle against Thanos flashed before her eyes like a movie reel.

"Fuck I still can't handle it. I can barely even look at Yelena because-" Her eyes welled. Yelena and Nat didn't physically resemble eachother that much, but every so often Yelena would say something or look at her a certain way, and all she could think about was her best friend who never came home.

"Hey." Bucky's voice was gentle. A gloved finger crooked under her jaw and tilted her face up to lock eyes wit his. "You're not weak. You're human."

"They're all gone Buck." She quivered, tears running freely down her dusty cheeks. "And Steve left us without even saying goodbye." Metal fingers brushed her cheeks gently.

"And then you left me." Bucky was so quiet she almost thought she'd imagined it.

She felt her bottom lip tremble as she watched tears begin to pool in the corners of his eyes. Guilt wreaked havoc on her heart. She'd walked away from a man who had only known loneliness and pain for longer than she'd been alive.

"I'm sorry." She took a breath. "I guess I just thought no one would miss me all that much."

Her raw admission made Bucky blanch. He looked down at her in disbelief. How could anyone so radiant ever think something like that about themselves.

"I looked for you." A tear slid down his cheek as his voice cracked.

"For months. I looked for you."

There was a pause.

"Why?" Her voice was barely a whisper.

"You know why."

Her heart hammered in her chest at the way he looked at her. This felt like a fever dream. After years of anguish and pain, she couldn't possibly be about to have something good happen to her.

"No. I don't."

Bucky swallowed nervously as he brought a hand over to cradle her jaw.

"Are you really going to make me say it doll?" A breathless laugh passed his lips. For the first time in years, she felt herself lighten at the sound of his laugh. Even more at the sound of that nickname he’d always reserved just for her.

"Yes."

Bucky paused as he ran a thumb along her jawline, his eyes studied every single inch of her face.

"Because it's always been you." His admission made her weak in the knees. His gaze was unbreakable as he stared down at her.

Another dry chuckle emitted from the back of his throat, "and I'm too old to pine after you in the corner for another six years this time around."

"Bucky." She breathed out.

She was scared. So fucking scared. Because this was real. This meant that she had to open herself up to the possibility of even more pain.

But it was also the most alive she'd felt in years.

"If you don't feel the same way I-"

She leant up on her toes and pressed her lips against his. She felt like her insides were melting as he brought his other hand up to cradle the other side of her face. All those of years of anguish and heartache faded into the background as their lips moved against eachother. She felt warm and safe and protected.

He was her home.

The two pulled away after a few moments, their chests slightly more ragged as they studied each other.

"It's always been you." She whispered against his lips.

Bucky couldn't control the grin that spread across his face as he brushed a thumb along her lower lip.

"If Nat was here, she would be freaking out right now."

"So would Steve." Bucky answered. God knows he had never heard the end of it when he was still here.

"Although, he'd probably be disappointed in me that I didn't take you dancing first." The two of them giggled, their salty tears mixing together as they pressed their foreheads together.

"Guess you'll have to take me dancing after we sort this new mess out." *yn* murmured to him as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Speaking of...do you trust them?" Bucky's eyes looked over her shoulder, landing on the closed door that separated them from the others. She turned in his arms to follow his gaze.

"Well, they're all unpredictable, loud, have dodgy pasts and are incredibly damaged." She remarked. "But..." She trailed off as she turned to look up at him.

"So are we." He finished off her sentence.

She nodded. "So yeah, I guess I do. And Bob's a good person. He's unstable but he's.... he needs help."

The corner of Bucky's mouth twitched up as he studied her.

"You're already attached to them, aren't you?"

"A little bit." She admitted.

God she couldn't believe that in such a short span that bunch had managed to get under her skin. But they had.

She really needed to get some friends.

"Which scares me. I can’t lose more people I care about again."

Bucky eyes softened at her confession.

"I'm with you on this. I'm with you on life. And I'm not going anywhere."

She smiled softly and buried her face into his neck, inhaling that familiar scent of pine and smoke. The pair stood wrapped in eachother's arms, enjoying the feeling of being together before they had to go back out there and face reality.

The pain would always be there, they were never going to forget the friends they'd lost. But this was their chance at a fresh start. To help heal each other and to choose themselves this time.

To build a home.

I apologise if I’m rusty, but I’m happy with how this turned out :) if you had told me a year ago I’d be writing again, I wouldn’t have believed you - but here we are!!! This has really made me realise how much I missed you guys. As always always always, feedback is always appreciated because I thrive off praise. Please give it back here x

[cactus-frog]

Invincibutts

[cactus-frog]

💮A gift to @saku-chann 💮

[cactus-frog]

Invincibutts

[cactus-frog]

Hands exercise :) 

[cactus-frog]

doodles of Amy and Neo Metal Sonic as Lady Nimue and Sir Pelleas from my and my gangs satbk au! Neo's design is also by @mmm-asbestos!

[cactus-frog]

Hiii, is your Batmom stuff in order like where do I start, like I read some here and there and they're amazing so I was wondering if there's a chronological order?

Hey ! …Hum…there could be a chronological order…Ok well, I’m gonna spend my next hour giving you said order eh. On my masterlist blog, the stories are basically in the order I posted them, but I believe I can make a chronological order and a sort of timeline. Here it goes : 

So there’s two kind of Batmom stories. The ones that are connected, the ones that have the same “main” Batmom, and stories unrelated with those, usually one shots. And here we go, let’s start with my “main” Batmom (also a good way to do a list of all the connected stories haha) and a somewhat chronological order : 

There used to be a story where my main Batmom and Bruce met at a charity Batmom was having (she’s a writer that was starting to be famous and had a charity to give easier access to books to disadvantages population in Gotham) but hum…it got accidentally erased. I still remember the story though, so maybe one day, I’ll re-write it. Anyway. This is where it’s suppose to begin. 

The first time he saw you

Making him work for it

“You’re not hard to love, Bruce”

“You made me hide under the desk” (NSFW, 18+, minors don’t interact)

“My last happy birthday was my eighth one…”  

Insecurities shmunsecurities

The Break-Up part ¼

The Break-Up part 2/4

The Break-Up part 2.5/4

The Break-Up part ¾

The Break-Up part 4/4

“The art of taking care of the woman you love” (TW : periods)

Making Bruce Wayne blush

“Can the Batman get flustered ?” 

Smol Dickie and Jaybird

Wedding and pop-corns

“My biggest mistake” by Jason P. Todd 

The Batmom Glare

Ma Broosh !

Silly Bat’

The first time they called you mom

“You have kids ?? And…A WIFE ?”

“Hey Mrs. Wayne !”

Behind closed door (NSFW, 18+, minors don’t interact)

“Just play the damn game with me !” 

Period drama with mama 

Tears

“Self-care is important you IDIOT !”

Pierced 

Fun Fair with the family

The Batkids watching “The Omen”

The Batkids watching “The Lion King”

How terrible it is to love something that death can touch

“Admit it, Bruce” (NSFW, 18+, minors don’t interact)

“Your wife is hot”

“Your wife is hot” part 2

“You’re…you’re Bruce’s father !”

“Mother, it’s your day”

Anonymous Hate

Never piss off a magician

“Mother has been poisoned”

Valentine’s day is a stupid holiday

Burrito Blanket Batmom

How to tame a Wayne

Wild Child

“Jigsaw is coming for me”

In which the batboys fight to know which Hogwarts’ house is the best 

Oh shit, it’s father’s day !

The Last Pit (part ½)

The Last Pit (part 2/2)

My mom is better than yours 

Each tattoo is a story

Short bonus convo : Bruce and Batmom gross out the Batboys

“Did this miscreant hurt you mother ?”

“Are we not gonna talk about the elephant in the room ?” 

“You’re mister J’s new obsession, Sugar” (part 1/3)

“You’re mister J’s new obsession, Sugar” (part 2/3)

“You’re mister J’s new obsession, Sugar” (part 3/3)

“That’s not how you negociate !”

Death, Amnesia, and 4 coffee please

“You’re cute when you’re jealous”

“My parents are gross…ly in love" 

“Where did the coffee table go ?”

“She’ll always be our mom”

“Mom, are you a drug dealer ?!”

It’s Alfred Day !

“Vacations are rare for the Waynes”

Beach Bod’

I’m not drunk, you are

The Batkids watching “The Omen” 

The many times Alfred Pennyworth walked in on his master and his wife making love, and that one time his young masters wished they were blind (NSFW, 18+, minors don’t interact)

“It’s her, but it’s not her !” (part ½)

“It’s them, but it’s not them !” (part 2/2)

“Talk to my son like that again, and I will end you” 

Batbrats

When you’re your husband’s biggest simp

Buttslap ?/Batslap !

Can you be friend with your husband’s ex-girlfriend ?

Early Mornings with the Bat

“Is Father…drunk ?”

A Mother’s love : Burst of Affection

Sick Day

Mama’s boys/girl

Jason Todd(ler)

Operation : retrieving the sex tape

Slice of life : cooking lessons

YOU IDIOT !

“I’m done with you, Mr. Wayne”

“I can be myself around you”

“I want a divorce !”

Alive (NSFW, 18+, minors don’t interact)

How to remove a Wayne safely

The comfort of Loving arms 

#MyParentsAreLosers

“Hopefully, no one will notice” (NSFW, 18+, minors don’t interact)

“She should cut her nails” (part ½ of the League teasing the “batlovers”)

“Bruce…sucks !” (part 2/2 of the League teasing the “batlovers”).

The Talk

“BATMAN IS NEVER JEALOUS”

“You slept with Superman ?”

The List (NSFW, 18+, minors don’t interact)

The wrath of a short woman

Random convo between Batmom and Broosh

I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore… 1/3 (Marvel Crossover)

“I don’t like cats”

Odd socks

Halloween in…December ?!

I’ll always be here for you

Tickles and loss

Happy Holidays

“My last happy birthday was my eighth one…” 

Short bonus convo : Batboys want a sibling

Batman doesn’t eat pie

Good Night Rituals

Baby Wayne

“I’m lost without you…”

“You’re not even my mom !”

Polichinelle

The Great Mall adventure

“Please don’t freak out, but my water just broke”

Master of Diaper

Shaky steps and bad teaching

“Go away, you’re confusing my baby”

Wild Child 2, “We want them back”

How do you make babies ?

The day he understood what Death means

“Mom got lost again” 

Don’t wanna go

And when I’m gone… 

My Mother’s apple orchard

After Batmom’s death

And then all the unrelated stories, and obvs those are not in any particular orders : 

“Bruce, my heart, I think Alfred likes my mom !”

Catching the Bat’s heart 

Sneaky Bastard (NSFW, 18+, minors don’t interact)

A chance to say goodbye

Fate is a bitch part 1/?

Fate is a bitch part 2/?

Relationship headcanons part 1/?

“You could have anyone you want !”

Behave

“I don’t wanna get married”

There is nothing left of him

“Let me get one thing straight…I’m not !”

Three parts of a whole (Batman x Reader x Superman) (NSFW, 18+, minors don’t interact)

Professor Wayne ¼ (Teacher!AU)

Professor Wayne 2/4

Professor Wayne 2.5/4 (NSFW, 18+, minors don’t interact)

Professor Wayne 3/ 4

Professor Wayne 4/4

The single rider line

“Can you be my dad’s girlfriend, please ?” 

“My fake boyfriend is a billionaire ?!”

From enemies to lovers 

“Life is worth it, I’ll prove it” (Battinson)

Never Again (Battinson)

Yeah wow. Most of my stories are the “main” Batmom eh…

PS : I TOTALLY meant to do it by the way, to have a timeline. It was my plan all along to create a sort of universe, with a timeline that makes sense and such. I totally knew what I was doing, definitely didn’t make that timeline up on the spot…Nop’ nop’ nop’. Always meant it. Since day one. Ahem. #whenyourealizethatyoucreatedatimelinethatmadesenseanddidn’tdoitonpurpose

[cactus-frog]

𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐝, 𝐁𝐢𝐠 𝐛𝐚𝐝

𝐉𝐚𝐲𝐜𝐞 𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐬 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

✰⍣..𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐚 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭, 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐥𝐢��𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐬 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐬 𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐮𝐟𝐟, 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐰𝐨𝐥𝐟 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐡, 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐦. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠-- 𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐬 𝐚 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐲.

⇢𝐟𝐞𝐦! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 (𝐦𝐝𝐧𝐢), 𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐰𝐨𝐥𝐟! 𝐉𝐚𝐲𝐜𝐞, 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐲! 𝐉𝐚𝐲𝐜𝐞, 𝐋𝐎𝐓𝐒 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞, 𝐜𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞

𝐚/𝐧: @lvlixy I love u for this request (and i’m sorry it took so long (´-ω-`) )

The forest had always been a whispering thing.

Tall, gnarled trees reached to the sky like fingers blackened by ash, their mossy veins twisting along the bark like secrets. The air smelled of damp earth, bark, and pine—thick with the weight of something wild, something watching.

You didn’t mind it, though. You’d walked this path a hundred times. Basket on your arm, hood pulled up to shield your head from the fine misty rain that always lingered in these woods. A bright, soft red—a small, fluttering flame against the cold hues of the forest.

You weren’t supposed to talk to strangers.

You certainly weren’t supposed to speak to men who lurked on the edges of the path, half-shrouded in shadow, with broad shoulders and golden eyes that gleamed like lanterns in the dusk.

But he’d been there last week.

And the week before that.

At first, he’d just watched. One hand braced against a tree trunk, breath slow and even, the thick swell of his chest rising and falling beneath the open laces of his shirt. You thought he might be a hunter—he wore furs over his shoulders, heavy boots, thick leather straps wrapping strong forearms—it made your face warm just thinking about it.

But then he spoke.

Gravel-rough, like a growl beneath a human voice. “You always bring sweets into a forest like this?”

You had paused. Blinked. Clutched your basket a little tighter.

“…They’re for my grandmother” you’d said gently, voice like the first crackle of a fire on a cold day. “She lives past the glen. I always bring her cookies.”

He’d just stared. Expression unreadable. His eyes flicked to the cloth-draped basket on your arm. You had the strange, fluttering urge to offer him one. So you did.

“Would you like one?” you’d asked, lifting the edge of the cloth with delicate fingers.

His brows lifted like he’d never been asked something so innocent in his entire life.

He didn’t take one.

Not that time.

But he watched you walk away. You felt it—burning into the back of your red cloak like a flame trying to crawl into your skin.

⸻

It was raining heavier this time.

The trees shook with the wind, shivering down silver droplets, but you were already halfway to your grandmother’s cottage—boots soft in the loam, heart warm under your cloak.

He was there again.

Leaning against a tree like it was the only thing keeping him upright. A towering silhouette against the blue-gray gloom. Wet hair clung to his brow, curling into his temples, and the water beaded down the sharp line of his jaw before disappearing into his beard. He looked carved from the wild—unkempt, dangerous, beautiful.

You slowed as you approached. He hadn’t spoken this time. Just watched.

“Hello again” you said gently, voice carrying through the soft hiss of rain. Your hand curled around the handle of your basket. “You’re always out here.”

His nostrils flared. He didn’t blink.

“I live here.”

You tilted your head. A drop of rain slid from your hood down your cheek. “In the forest?”

A grunt. “It’s quieter.”

“I suppose it would be.” You smiled. “Would you like a cookie today?”

He looked at you then—really looked. His jaw twitched like he was grinding down a response behind those lips. And then, slow as a storm rolling in, he stepped forward.

His boots sank deep into the mud. His coat of fur shifted on his shoulders. He was so large up close, you had to tilt your head back to meet his gaze. His eyes glowed faintly under his brow—strange, sharp, not quite human.

You held out the cookie with both hands like an offering.

He took it.

Rough fingers, scarred and calloused, brushed over yours as he accepted it—so warm, so big that your hand felt like a doll’s in comparison. You watched him stare at the cookie like it was a foreign object, some strange, alien thing.

You giggled softly. “It’s just sugar and flour. It won’t bite.”

He gave you a look. One brow arched—bemused. “Shame.”

Then he bit it.

Teeth sharp. It cracked between them. You saw the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth—something between amusement and pleasure. He chewed slow. Deliberate. His eyes never left yours.

You swallowed. Your stomach felt like it had butterflies and bees and something heavier. Something… needier.

“…Good?” you asked, shy.

His voice was low when he finally said, “Too sweet.”

You shrank back a little. “Oh. I’m sorry—”

“But I don’t mind” he added, almost like a confession. He licked a crumb from his lower lip, and your eyes followed the motion without meaning to. His tongue was wide. Slow. Almost… animalistic.

You didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know why your thighs pressed together under your skirt, or why the rain suddenly felt hotter against your skin.

His head tilted. “You’re not afraid of me?”

You blinked up at him. “Should I be?”

“…Most people are.”

You smiled at that. “You’ve never given me a reason to be.”

He stepped closer. So close you could feel the heat of him now—radiating off his chest, his arms, his broad frame. You had to crane your neck just to keep his face in view.

He looked at you like he didn’t understand you. Like you were something soft and sacred and very stupid for wandering into a wolf’s den.

He didn’t say another word.

He turned and walked away.

But his scent lingered—woodsmoke, pine, and something feral. Something male. It stuck in your throat like a taste.

And you knew—next week, when you walked this path again, he’d be there.

Waiting.

⸻

You weren’t supposed to go into the woods after sundown.

Not even with your red cloak pulled tight around your shoulders, not even when you knew the trail like the veins of your own hand. But tonight felt different. The wind was wrong—too sharp, slicing through the trees like a whisper with teeth. The birds had gone silent. Even the squirrels and rabbits had disappeared into their dens.

You should’ve listened.

But something pulled you deeper. Something old and instinctual. A strange tug in your chest—tight, trembling, desperate.

You found him by the trees.

At first, you weren’t sure it was him.

There was blood. So much of it. Spattered on the undergrowth, soaked into the ground. His silhouette slumped near the base of a thick pine, half-hidden by its roots and shadows. His coat was torn, hanging from one shoulder like a broken pelt. And his arm—gods, his arm was shredded. Long, brutal gashes ran down from shoulder to elbow, still bleeding, still glistening red and raw in the moonlight.

Your heart stuttered.

“Jayce?” you whispered, breath hitched.

He looked up.

His golden eyes caught the moonlight like a curse. Pain darkened the hollows of his face, but he still growled when he saw you approaching, low and feral. “Go home” he rasped.

You stepped closer.

He bared his teeth. “I said go.”

But you were already dropping to your knees beside him, skirts soaking in the wet earth. “You’re hurt—oh gods, you’re hurt. What happened?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

You pressed your hand to his chest to steady him. His skin was hot. Feverish. The heat of him burned through your palm like a brand. His heart thumped under your touch—fast, too fast.

“It matters to me” you said softly.

His head tilted, face twisted in something unreadable. Like he didn’t know what to do with that kind of softness. Not from a girl in a red cloak with hands too gentle for this world.

You didn’t give him time to argue.

You hooked your arm under his—ignoring how massive and heavy he was—and with some miraculous combination of coaxing, pulling, and sheer stubbornness, you got him to his feet.

And then you took him home.

⸻

Your cottage wasn’t far. A cozy thing, tucked behind a thicket of trees, hidden from the main path. A crooked chimney, ivy-covered stone, soft yellow light spilling from the windows like a warm sigh.

You dragged him inside. He was breathing hard, jaw clenched, trying to hide the way his legs buckled under him. You led him straight to your little table and helped him sit, his blood leaving smears on the wooden floor as you did.

“Stay” you said firmly. “I’ll get water.”

He scoffed under his breath. “Not going anywhere.”

When you returned with a bowl and cloth, your breath caught.

He had shrugged off what was left of his coat and shirt.

And gods, he looked like something carved from earth and war.

His shoulders were massive, covered in a latticework of old scars—some deep, some shallow, all of them a story. His chest rose and fell with sharp, pained breaths, slick with sweat and dirt and blood. The gashes on his arm were the worst—red and swollen, torn open by something with claws.

“Another wolf did this?” you whispered, dipping the cloth into the water.

He didn’t answer. Just looked at you under those dark lashes, golden eyes unreadable.

You started cleaning the wound carefully.

He flinched when the cloth touched raw skin.

“Sorry” you murmured, “I’ll be gentle…”

He huffed through his nose. “You always are.”

You paused. Looked up at him.

He was watching you.

And not like before—not like the quiet, curious glances he gave in the woods. This was different. Hungrier. Like he couldn’t understand why your hands weren’t shaking. Why you weren’t running.

He looked at you like a man who’d forgotten what tenderness felt like.

You said nothing.

You just kept going—slow, careful, brushing away blood, revealing skin beneath. You reached for the jar of balm you’d made with your grandmother’s old recipe—wild herbs and crushed petals, thick and fragrant. You dabbed some onto your fingers and gently worked it into the torn flesh.

He growled softly—more like a pained exhale than a threat.

Your eyes flicked up. “Does that hurt?”

His voice came out rough. “No. Just… you’re warm.”

You blinked.

His gaze dropped to your hands, still smoothing salve into his arm. His brows drew together like he was trying to solve you. You could feel the heat in the air now—not just from the fire, but from him. From the way he sat shirtless in your little kitchen, bleeding and scarred, looking like he wanted to devour something and didn’t know if it was you or the softness you offered.

“You didn’t have to bring me here” he said finally, voice low.

You smiled. “I know.”

“Why did you?”

You paused. Looked up. Your hand hovered at the edge of one healing gash.

“Because no one else would.”

He didn’t answer.

Didn’t move, either—except for the faint quiver in his jaw, the way his fingers curled into the table edge. You could see the effort it took to hold himself back, to stay still under your touch.

You brushed a strand of hair out of his face. Your fingers ghosted over his brow, the curve of his temple. You didn’t know why you did it. You just… wanted to.

Jayce inhaled sharply.

You pulled back. “I should run a bath for you. You’re still covered in blood.”

“I don’t mind.”

“I do.”

He blinked as you stood, crossing the room to the little tin tub near the fireplace. You poured warm water from the kettle, stoking the fire beneath it, until steam curled from the surface like mist.

He watched you.

Watched as you gathered clean towels, fresh bandages, everything he might need.

When you turned back to him, he was still shirtless. Still bleeding. Still enormous and tense and quiet.

“You’ll feel better once you’re clean” you said gently, nodding toward the tub.

He didn’t move.

“…Do you need help getting in?”

His eyes burned into yours.

You realized what you’d just said. Heat rushed to your face, embarrassment flooding you. “I—I didn’t mean—! I meant if you need to steady yourself, or if your arm hurts, I could—”

He stood up.

The chair creaked behind him. And then he was walking toward you, massive frame moving like a beast restrained. Every step closer made your heart beat louder, faster.

He stood over you, his chest inches from yours, and the scent of pine, smoke, and blood enveloped you.

“You really don’t know what I am, do you?”

You looked up. Swallowed.

His face was close enough to kiss. Close enough to feel the heat of his breath. His eyes flicked to your mouth and back again.

“I don’t care” you whispered.

That stopped him.

Something shifted in his expression—something soft and wounded and wild.

You reached for his hand.

And to your surprise… he let you take it.

You led him to the tub.

The bath steamed gently in the corner of the cottage, curls of mist dancing into the air like ghosts. You tested the water with your hand—warm, almost too warm—but you figured he needed it. The rain had soaked into his skin, and his muscles were stiff with blood and tension. A deep, guttural kind of tension that came from pain… and from something else he refused to name.

Behind you, Jayce stood still. Towering. Silent.

He hadn’t moved since you led him to the edge of the tub, hadn’t said a word. You could feel his eyes on you, heavy and constant. The air between you hummed with something taut and unspoken—something that made your fingers tremble where they hovered above the water.

You turned slowly.

And there he was.

Golden eyes low beneath thick lashes, broad chest rising and falling as he watched you. His massive frame filled the space like a beast barely contained—scarred, wounded, yet still undeniably powerful. He looked… unsure. Like he was waiting for you to change your mind. To finally realize what he was and run.

But you didn’t.

You stepped toward him again, your voice soft. “You can take off the rest of your clothes now… I’ll look away if you’d like.”

He didn’t answer. Just stared down at you for a long moment.

Then his hands went to his waistband.

Your breath caught.

You turned your back—respectful, heart hammering. You heard the shift of leather. The quiet, wet drag of fabric pulled down. A grunt of pain as he moved too fast. The dull sound of his boots hitting the floor.

Your fingers clenched into your skirt.

Then… water.

The soft splash of it. The way it lapped gently at the sides of the tub as his heavy body lowered into it. You imagined it—how his thick thighs would stretch against the edges, how the water would bead on his chest, trickling between muscles and over scars.

You waited a moment before glancing over your shoulder.

Jayce was sunk deep into the tub, arms braced on either side, head tipped back against the wall. His eyes were closed. Drops of water clung to his lashes. His hair, darker now from the damp, curled along his temples and jaw. His chest was still rising a bit too fast, like the heat of the bath wasn’t enough to melt the tension from his body.

You hesitated, then stepped closer with a soft cloth and a clean bowl of water.

“I’m going to clean the rest of your wounds” you said gently. “Just relax. Let me help you.”

His eyes opened. Heavy-lidded. Watching.

“You don’t have to” he said, voice low.

“I want to.”

That made something flicker behind his gaze.

You knelt beside the tub.

His shoulders were so broad your cloth barely covered a third of them at a time. You dipped it into the warm water, wrung it out, and pressed it to his skin. He inhaled sharply.

“Too hot?” you asked, instantly worried.

“No” he muttered. “Just… you.”

You paused.

But then, slowly, you continued—dragging the cloth down over the planes of his shoulder. Over the thick muscle of his arm, his collarbone, the side of his throat. He tilted his head just slightly, exposing his neck to your touch, his jaw tense like he was grinding down something dangerous behind his teeth.

His skin was littered with old wounds—some faded and silver, others fresh and pink. You treated each one with tender care, as if your touch could erase the pain written into them. Your fingers moved with delicate purpose, smoothing balm here, washing blood there. You avoided the waterline of the tub, not daring to glance down too far—though your curiosity itched at you.

You focused on his chest instead.

So strong. So scarred. The water licked at his ribcage, and you trailed your cloth just beneath it, brushing the ridges of hard muscle. His abdomen clenched beneath your touch. You didn’t miss it. You didn’t mention it either.

“You’ve fought a lot” you whispered, wiping along the curve of his shoulder.

“Had to.”

You rinsed the cloth again. Dipped it gently, wringing it out with both hands. “What happened? Tonight.”

He exhaled through his nose. “Another wolf. Bigger. Stronger. He came too close to the edge of my territory. I didn’t like that.”

You stilled.

He hadn’t said it out loud before.

Wolf.

You knew. Of course you knew. The golden eyes, the strength, the scars, the scent—wild and primal and male. But hearing it… confirmed… made your breath come faster.

He turned his head. Watched your reaction.

But you only looked up at him with wide, soft eyes.

“…Does it hurt when you change?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Jayce blinked.

His throat bobbed with a swallow. “Sometimes.”

You touched your hand to the edge of his neck, brushing your thumb along a scratch there. “I’m sorry.”

His eyes darkened.

“You’re not afraid of me” he said, voice a little rougher.

“No.”

“You should be.”

You leaned in, almost without thinking. Your palm was flat against his chest now, just above his heart.

“You keep saying that” you murmured, “but I’ve only ever seen you hurt… tired… kind.”

A muscle in his jaw ticked.

“I could tear you in half.”

You smiled. “But you won’t.”

He stared at you.

The only sound in the cottage was the slow drip of water from the cloth, the soft hiss of the fire. Your hand stayed on his chest, and his stayed at the edges of the tub—clenched, white-knuckled, like he was holding himself back from doing something stupid.

“You don’t understand” he growled, voice barely contained. “The way you smell… the way you look at me. It—it messes with my head. You’re so sweet.”

Your cheeks flushed. “Is that… bad?”

He shut his eyes tightly. “It’s dangerous.”

You pulled your hand back, slowly, fingers trembling. But not from fear.

From want.

“Then tell me to stop” you said softly.

He opened his eyes again. And you saw it—the conflict, the need, the ache swimming there. Like he wanted you so badly it hurt. But still, he said nothing.

So you dipped the cloth again, and continued your soft ministrations.

Because he didn’t tell you to stop.

And somewhere deep down, you knew—

He didn’t want to.

⸻

Jayce hadn’t intended to come back.

At least, not that day.

He told himself he was fine. Told himself that the lingering warmth in his chest would fade, that the memory of your hands on his skin, your soft voice in his ear, would eventually stop haunting him. He wasn’t some lovesick fool. He was a wolf. A creature of instinct and survival. He didn’t need comfort. Didn’t need softness. Didn’t need… you.

But the forest felt empty without you in it.

The birdsong grated against his ears. The river sounded too loud. The wind too quiet. He tried patrolling the edges of his territory like always, but every rustle in the trees made him turn his head, hoping—expecting—you to be there. That stupid red cloak flashing between the trees. That voice calling his name, like you weren’t afraid of what he was. Like you were calling him home.

But you weren’t there.

And gods, it hurt.

By the third day, something in him snapped.

He shifted before he even realized it—skin giving way to fur, spine snapping, hands warping into paws. It wasn’t violent, not like usual. It rolled over him like a wave. Fast. Desperate. Directionless.

And then… he ran.

⸻

You were in the garden when you heard it.

The scratching.

Soft at first. Then harder. Urgent. You looked up from your basket of wildflowers, heart skipping. The sun had just begun to dip behind the trees, painting the sky in swirls of rose and gold. Birds chirped overhead. Wind rustled through the tall grass.

But the sound came again—clawing, just beneath the door.

You knew it was him before you even stood.

You dropped the basket and ran barefoot across the grass, skirts lifted just enough to keep from tripping. Your door trembled on its hinges as the weight behind it grew more insistent—thud, thud, scratch—and when you opened it, heart in your throat, there he was.

Jayce.

In wolf form.

But not the towering, snarling beast you imagined from stories. Not the predator you were warned about as a child. No. He was massive, yes—easily taller than your hip at the shoulder, fur thick and dark, eyes gold and gleaming—but he looked…

Devastated.

His ears were low. His tail tucked. His huge body sagged like every limb weighed a thousand pounds. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days.

Your breath caught. “Jayce…?”

He made a noise in his throat—soft, low, miserable.

Then, he stepped forward and collapsed.

Right there on your threshold.

You dropped to your knees beside him, hands flying to his fur. “Oh gods—what happened? Are you hurt? Are you—?”

He whimpered.

Not from pain.

From something else.

You stroked his head, gentle, soothing. “It’s okay… you’re okay now. You came back…”

His fur was thick and coarse in some places, soft and downy in others. He pressed his snout against your thigh and whined, a sound so pitiful it made your heart ache. You leaned over him, arms wrapped gently around his neck, burying your fingers into the dense fur there.

“You missed me, didn’t you?” you whispered.

He huffed against your leg. Then nodded.

It was barely a movement. Barely even human. But you felt it. The confession. The truth of it.

You smiled softly. “Come in, then. You need rest.”

He let you guide him inside—slowly, limping with exhaustion. He shifted back once the door shut behind you, stumbling into himself, bare and breathless, muscles trembling as he dropped onto your rug. His human form was flushed, damp with sweat, and his eyes… his eyes looked starved.

Not for food. Not even for touch.

But for you.

You knelt beside him once more, reaching up to brush the hair from his forehead. “You came all this way for me?”

His lashes fluttered. “Didn’t know where else to go.”

“Oh, Jayce…”

He looked up at you then, gaze heavy with something he couldn’t say. His whole body seemed to sag under it—this crushing weight of longing and confusion and loneliness he didn’t know how to carry.

You leaned in without thinking, wrapping your arms around him, drawing his big, trembling frame into your lap. He went boneless, head pressed to your chest, the furrow in his brow softening just slightly.

And then you started brushing his hair.

Slow. Repetitive. Gentle.

He shuddered. Not from cold. From the intimacy.

“Good boy” you whispered, stroking through his dark curls.

Jayce whined.

His arms twitched, clutched at the hem of your dress. His cheek pressed harder into your chest. His breath stuttered, unsteady.

“You’re safe here. You’re always safe here” you murmured, still brushing. “You’re so strong… so brave… but you don’t have to be, not with me.”

He whimpered.

You smiled and dragged your fingers down his shoulder blades, over his broad back. The old wounds there were tight with scar tissue, but your touch was featherlight. Comforting. Loving. He trembled again—one big shiver rolling down his spine.

“I like when you come to see me” you continued, your voice soft and playful now. “You act so mean and scary in the woods, but I think you just want to be loved.”

He made a broken noise. Something halfway between a growl and a groan.

Your fingers slid to his shoulders, kneading softly into the muscles there. “You hold so much tension here,” you murmured. “Poor thing…”

“Please…” he rasped suddenly.

You paused. “Jayce?”

His head lifted from your lap, eyes wild, burning.

“Please. I need to—I need you.”

Your heart stopped.

He reached for you, hands trembling, cupping your face with almost reverent care. Like you were something holy. His thumbs brushed your cheeks, and his voice broke.

“I can’t take it anymore” he whispered. “The way you talk to me. The way you touch me. You’re so kind it hurts. I ache for you. I don’t know how to stop.”

You stared at him, stunned, lips parted.

“I don’t want to scare you” he choked out. “I don’t want to ruin you. But I need to feel you. Please.”

Your hands gently moved to cover his. You leaned into his touch.

And you smiled.

“Okay” you said sweetly. “You can.”

He blinked. “Wh-what?”

“I said yes” you whispered, your fingers sliding up into his hair. “You don’t have to beg. I want you, too.”

Jayce groaned, head bowing against your chest again like the strength had left him entirely.

You held him there, stroking his back, whispering his name like a balm, like a spell. The fire cracked softly in the hearth. Your breath mingled in the warmth between you.

And he whispered, “Thank you” like it was a prayer.

⸻

It happened right there on the rug.

The air was warm from the fire, golden light flickering across Jayce’s broad back, catching on the sheen of sweat starting to gather at the nape of his neck. He was on top of you, arms braced on either side of your head, breath hot and shaky as he looked down at you like he couldn’t quite believe this was real.

Like you weren’t real.

His knees were spread wide on either side of your hips, thighs flexed and trembling, and he was barely managing to hold himself back. His cock was hard and heavy, brushing your thigh—twitching whenever you whispered something sweet.

And you… you were looking up at him like he was something sacred.

You cupped his face with both hands, your thumbs brushing the curve of his jaw, the slope of his cheekbones. “You’re so beautiful like this,” you whispered, kissing the bridge of his nose. “So strong. So good.”

Jayce whined.

The sound tore from his throat—unrestrained, needy, like a pup being cradled too gently. His golden eyes fluttered closed, and his chest shuddered as you kissed him again—his cheek, his jaw, the soft spot just beneath his ear.

“Such a good boy” you whispered. “You came all this way to be close to me…”

“I couldn’t help it” he rasped, his voice thick and ruined. “I tried. I tried to stay away. But you’re in my head—I dream about your voice. About your touch.”

“You don’t have to dream anymore,” you breathed. “I’m right here. I want this. I want you.”

His hips rolled forward, just barely, and the head of his cock dragged over your entrance. He groaned—deep and low and guttural—and dropped his forehead to your shoulder, panting like he’d just run through the forest on all fours.

“You’re shaking” you murmured sweetly.

“I’m trying not to lose it” he growled. “I want to take my time—but you’re so warm, so soft—gods, I can smell you—”

You kissed the side of his face, hands stroking through his hair. “Then go slow. I’ll help you.”

And he did.

Jayce sat up, planting his feet wide and low so he could squat over you, hands gripping your thighs to steady himself. His thighs were huge, quivering with restraint, the muscles carved and flexing as he held himself above you like some desperate, starving beast who’d finally been offered something sacred. His cock bobbed between you—thick, flushed, leaking—and you whimpered as he dragged the tip through your slick folds, teasing himself, trembling.

You reached up and stroked his face again.

“Jayce” you whispered, “I want you inside me. Please.”

He whined again.

Then he pushed forward—slowly, carefully, like he was terrified you’d shatter beneath him. His length stretched you inch by inch, the thick head breaching you with a delicious burn. He let out a choked, broken sob of a breath, his mouth falling open, and his hands tightened on your thighs.

“Fuck— you’re so tight”

You held his gaze, breathless. “You’re doing so good, baby. You’re being so gentle. I’m so proud of you…”

His hips bucked sharply at that.

He bottomed out with a guttural moan, the position letting him sink deep, his pelvis flush against yours, chest heaving like he’d just survived something dangerous.

You reached up and kissed his temple, then the corner of his mouth. “See? That wasn’t so scary.”

His eyes rolled back.

“You keep saying things like that,” he panted, “and I’m gonna lose it. I—fuck—I can’t—”

“You can” you whispered. “I want you to.”

And that was it.

Jayce started to move.

Slow at first—his thighs straining as he lifted himself up and sank back down again, groaning as his cock dragged through your walls with aching precision. You moaned beneath him, hands exploring every inch of him you could reach—his chest, his waist, the trembling muscles of his thighs as he squatted low, grinding into you on every downstroke.

“Oh gods, you’re perfect” he gasped. “You feel so good, I—fuck, I can’t believe you let me—”

You ran your hands over his arms, dragging your nails lightly down his biceps, then leaned up and kissed his chest—soft, open-mouthed, reverent. “Of course I did. Look at you… so big and strong. And you’re being so good for me.”

Jayce’s head dropped back and he whined again—softer this time, more helpless. Like he didn’t know what to do with the affection. Like he’d never been praised in bed. Like no one had ever called him good before.

You kissed up the line of his throat. “I love when you whine for me…”

His hips faltered—grinding down instead of thrusting, his cock rubbing perfectly against your sweet spot. He trembled so hard it nearly knocked him off balance.

“I’m close,” he choked. “Already—I—I can’t hold—”

“It’s okay” you cooed. “Let go, Jayce. Let me take care of you.”

His movements stuttered. Then sped up—sloppy, frantic, messy. His thighs burned from holding himself up, and his hands moved to cradle your head, your waist, like he couldn’t decide where to hold on while he came apart.

You pulled his face down to yours and kissed him—tender, wet, slow. Your tongue brushed his, and he shuddered with a moan, spilling inside you with a long, low groan that shook his whole body.

He didn’t pull out.

Just collapsed forward—carefully, shaking, chest pressed to yours, panting into your neck like he couldn’t catch his breath.

You wrapped your arms around him, stroking his hair, humming softly against his cheek.

“You did so good” you whispered, smiling. “So, so good for me.”

[cactus-frog]

If you can’t make kids at home, lab-grown is fine.

…even if they’re growing on accident like mold at the back of a fridge.

[cactus-frog]

somehow only now got into undertale, 10 years late oops

here's some doodles

[cactus-frog]

Every once in a while, when the art block happens, i simply revert to my true form: Undertale Fanartist

[cactus-frog]

Press your space face close to mine, love

Pairing: Mark Grayson (Invincible (2021)) x f!reader

Summary: sweet, clumsy, giggly sex with your best friend

Notes: No use of Y/N, reader is into comics, reader wears earrings, reader is somewhat quiet during sex (not counting talking), reader wears makeup

Cw: cunnilingus, penetrative sex

Tw: mention of (fictional) sex trafficking

“No, it’s just, like, they can’t bring up sex trafficking and let the buyer fuckin’ get away with it?” you laugh incredulously, tracing the outline of the Alice in Wonderland-esque girls on the page of your Robin: Year One comic. You turn the page, re-reading the foreign president’s claim of diplomatic immunity. “Fucking insane. Where’s the justice?”

Mark hums, his chest rumbling slightly from underneath where your cheek is pressed against his clothed sternum. His large, warm hand is settled loosely on your hipbone, his thumb dipping under your shirt and swiping across your skin. The pads of his fingertips have become rougher with the years of superhero work—no longer soft and delicate like in his childhood.

“Don’t you think that’s on purpose?”

You tut, glancing up at him.

“That’s stupid,” you grumble. “Screw Chuck Dixon.”

“It’s not stupid. It’s realistic,” Mark laugh softly, pressing a totally platonic kiss to the crown of your head. “But it’s your own fault. I told you to go for Frank Miller instead.”

“I heard he’s a weirdo,” you counter, rolling your eyes.

Mark snorts.

“What? He’s a legend. He did The Killing Joke.”

“No, he didn’t?” You laugh, shuffling around to grin up at him with your chests now pressed against each other. “That’s Alan Moore, doofus.”

You’re met with a sheepish, crooked grin. Mark shrugs.

“You’re the DC geek, not me. I stay loyal to my GOAT.”

“Oh, Seance Dog, huh?” You giggle, playfully digging your fingers into Mark’s ribs.

He laughs, grabbing onto your wrists with his warm and slightly clammy hands, tugging them away.

“Cut it out,” he says, wrapping his arms around you tightly in a caging embrace. He squeezes gently, ever careful not to hurt you with his superhuman strength, but still enough to immobilize you. “I’ve got you now.”

“Mark!” You shriek, wiggling in his grasp but to no avail. You laugh, dropping your head into the crook of his neck with a huff. “Oh— oh, real funny. Let me go.”

“Nuh-uh,” he teases, blowing a raspberry at you. “Apologize.”

You continue to laugh softly, lifting your head. The tip of your nose brushes against his jaw, then up to his cheek. It’s incredibly unsexy how the overly sensitive pickup of his old record player jumps at your ministrations in bed, making a shuffling noise over his speakers before skipping from the beginning of David Bowie’s Soul Love to somewhere in the middle of Moonage Daydream.

Still giggling, you press a lingering kiss to his cheek alongside a muttered apology.

“No— no worries,” Mark murmurs, smiling softly at you. The moment is quiet, save for the hum of the electric guitar, saxophone, and pennywhistle of the Ziggy Stardust version of the song playing. He reaches up, his fingers gingerly brushing across your brow-bone.

“Is Bowie having an influence on me or are we having a moment?” He asks with a wry smile.

“I think that’s actually the body’s natural reaction to hearing David Bowie and looking someone deeply into the eyes,” you whisper-giggle, nudging the tip of his nose with your own.

“A-ha,” Mark says, smiling back at you. “You’re so smart. Did I ever tell you that?”

“Mhm,” you hum, “but I like hearing it.”

At some point, Moonage Daydream becomes Starman, and you can’t help but let out another laugh.

“That’s you,” you say, still laying half on top of him. “Starman. From the stars. An alien—“

“Comedic genius we’ve got here,” he laughs with a grin, moving you fully on top of him with his hands planted on your ribcage. He sits up, tugging you closer easily and leans in to kiss you. His lips are thin but soft, experimentally capturing your bottom lip. The touch is lingering, and he only lets go after a few long seconds, then awaits your reaction.

Your tongue darts out, wetting your lips as you consider the kiss. It was nice. Really nice. You can’t remember the last time your heart beat this fast.

“You okay?” He whispers, bringing one hand up to your cheek. “We can stop.”

You shake your head.

“I liked it,” you whisper, smiling. “You’re a good kisser.”

He grins cockily, the hand on your ribcage sliding down to the small of your back.

“Oh, baby, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”

You snort, giving him a gentle and playful shove against his firm chest.

“Cut it out, loser,” you laugh before leaning in to kiss him again. “You’re so stupid. I hate you.”

“Uh-huh,” he hums in between soft, tender kisses. “Love you, too.”

He lowers his back onto the bed and you follow, placing a hand down on the bed for support when—

“Fuck!” You laugh, quickly shifting your weight to the other hand now planted on his chest. You scramble for the trade paperback you just crunched underneath your hand. “No! My baby!”

“I thought I was your baby,” Mark laughs, helping you move the slightly creased comic off the bed. “Here, c’mere.”

He lifts you into his arms, his hands planted firmly underneath your ass as he allows you to place the book back into its box set case. Then, as he walks back toward his bed, he trips over a discarded Seance Dog figurine with pointy ears that dig into the sole of his foot. He yelps, stumbling forward but retaining his grip on you as he turn around mid-air, catching himself with the internal center of gravity that allows him to float.

You shriek, laughing as you smack into his chest.

“Careful!” You laugh, kissing the corner of his slanted eye. “You’re gonna drop me!”

“I’d never drop you,” he laughs, turning his face to kiss your cheek. “I got you. Yeah? Always got you.”

He settles the two of you back into the bed carefully with you on your back and him on top of you. Something seems to click in his mind as he suddenly begins to shift your position.

“Sorry, you’ll probably not want me on top—“

“Mark,” you laugh softly, stopping him. “No, stop. You’re overthinking it. I like it.”

“Yeah?” He whispers with a shy grin, sliding in between your legs as he leans down. “Don’t know why we’ve never done this before.”

“Never thought I was your type,” you respond, brushing his inky hair back. “You’ve always gone for, like… cool, capable types. Uh, serious types, I guess.”

He raises a brow.

“Are you implying that you’re not cool and capable? ‘Cause that’s just not true.”

“Alright, alright,” you chuckle, leaning up to kiss him again. “You know what I mean. I didn’t think you saw me as, like…”

“I do,” he says, his smile softening. “Very much. Always have. If anything, I didn’t think you thought I had the potential. I thought you saw me as this annoying brother—“

“Nuh-uh, no way,” you stop him. “Too weird.”

“Understood,” he chuckles, capturing your lips once again. His hand comes up to cradle your jaw as he gently pries your lips apart. His experience isn’t vast, but he makes do with what he has. Warm, fresh blood pumps through your blood vessels as your heart beats faster and you feel flustered. It’s all too much and not enough as he kisses you slowly, only to end up breaking it because he’s unable to contain his smile.

“You are… unbelievably beautiful,” he whispers, peppering your face with soft, almost chaste, kisses. “Not to mention fucking cool. Don’t ever doubt that.”

“You’re awfully sweet,” you breathe out, your chest rising and falling with your quickened breath. “But you always have been, I guess.”

“Nothing compared to you,” he exhales, trailing his lips down the column of your throat. “Sweet girl. Pretty girl.”

He laughs softly against your warm skin.

“Sorry. I’m being corny.”

A weak grin tugs at the corners of your lips, only held back by your breathlessness.

“I like corny,” you whisper, the words softer and more tender than you mean for them to be.

“You do?” Mark asks uncertainly. Something tugs at his heart as he’s briefly reminded of a time long ago when Amber dismissed his attempt at a pet name (baby) (totally reasonable and fair! People have their preferences, but he’d be lying if he said it didn’t bring him down a little).

“Yeah,” you laugh softly, fingers threading through his hair. “It’s sweet. None of that pornified dirty talk.”

“What? You don’t want this big cock?” He asks, slotting himself against your hips and purposefully lowering his voice and pushing his chest out comically. “Bet you’ve never had a real man, sweetheart.”

You snort, exploding in a flurry of giggles as you push his shoulder (gently).

“Shut the fuck up,” you laugh, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Yeah, that’s right,” he continues in the voice. “Choke on my huge fuckin’—“

You laugh, burying your face in the crook of his neck. Mark smiled warmly, unable to contain his own laughter.

“Too corny?” He asks.

“Too porn-y,” you correct him, wiping the mirthful tears that have escaped your eyes.

He laughs, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Okay. Sorry, sorry.”

His fingers dip underneath the bottom hemline of your shirt, splaying out against your skin.

“Hey, can I— can I take your shirt off?” He asks, biting the inside of his cheek. His skin is flushed, tinted red, and he looks down at you with so much happiness in his eyes.

“Yeah— yeah, okay,” you breathe out, adjusting yourself on the bed as he clumsily begins tugging your shirt up. It gets stuck at multiple points—below your back, in your earrings, but amidst both of your giggling, Mark manages to get it off. He glances down at your exposed torso with a small grin.

“Nice,” he whispers to himself, nodding.

“Shut up, dork,” you laugh, tugging on his sky blue t-shirt that fits wonderfully snugly around his biceps. “Quid pro quo.”

“Oh, you wanna get me naked, huh?” He laughs, briefly letting go of you to tug the shirt over his head, only for the crew neck to get caught on his nose.

Sitting up with a laugh, you reach up to help him get untangled.

“My hero,” he sighs blissfully, wrapping his bare arms around you again as he leans in to kiss you. The shirt is discarded somewhere on the floor now, but your focus is solely on the feeling of his warm, broad chest pressed against your own.

Your hand trails down his chest, then further down across his abdomen. The muscles below your fingertips tighten, and Mark smiles into the kiss. You meet the waistline of his jeans, finding the edge of an elastic band peeking out along the periphery. Teasingly, you pull it out and let it snap back against his skin.

“Hey!” He laughs, nipping at your jaw. “I’m supposed to do that!”

“Too little, too late, lover boy,” you snort, pressing another soft kiss to his lips. Your hand still rests on his lower abdomen, your thumb swiping down from his navel and over the beginning trail of dark hair.

He sighs, reaching up with both hands to cup your face as he deepens the kiss. With your bottom lip between both of his and the occasional bump of noses or clash of teeth, he tilts your head back and lets his tongue dart out against yours—briefly, tastefully.

“Hey,” he pants softly, “are we—?“

“Yeah?” You murmur in between kisses. “If— if you want to—?”

“I do, I do,” he laughs, kissing your cheek. “Very much so. Should we discuss the, uh, implications?”

You’re still laughing softly alongside him, nudging his nose with yours.

“I… I like you,” you admit. “If you want more, that’s… great. If not, that’s cool, too. I’m fine either way.”

“Okay,” he says with a smile. “I mean, I… very much would like something more.”

“Great,” you say, your smile widening. “I was totally downplaying my feelings by the way.”

“No, I know,” he laughs, reaching down to tug your bottoms down. “Hips, please.”

It takes you a second to register his request, but then you’re shifting your weight back against your shoulders and pressing into the bed as you lift your hips. With a slight struggle (technical, not physical. He could’ve ripped them off you easily, but he knows you’re fond of your clothes), he manages to shrug them down and leave you in your underwear.

“Cute,” he comments, running a hand up your hip.

“Thanks,” you respond. You hook your fingers into the belt loops of his jeans and tug. “Your turn.”

He grins, fumbling with the button for a moment before unzipping, floating above the bed as he scrambles to get his jeans down past his knees.

“Socks off, too, you freak,” you laughs watching him curl around himself to disrobe.

“I don’t know, I think socks-on is kind of sexy,” he jokes, lowering himself to the bed again as he crawls over you.

You lean up to kiss him.

“Gross. Never ever express your personal opinion again.”

He snorts, giggling as he leans into the kiss. His lips trail down your throat and collarbone, then further down over the curve of your breast. He fumbles to discard your personal choice of bra style before hesitantly glancing up at you.

You nod, smiling encouragingly as you run your fingers through his hair, your nails scraping against his scalp.

He sighs blissfully, capturing your nipple between his lips in a soft, brief kiss before continuing down the underside of your breast. His hand comes to gently press against your other breast, his thumb running over the summit of your areola where your nipple peaks.

Continuing his descend, his lips trail down your stomach all the way down to the edge of your underwear. He shifts in bed, slipping his arms around your thighs as he lowers himself, his nose pressing into your clothed clit as he gingerly mouths at the (slightly) soaked material.

You inhale sharply, tensing up slightly.

“You know what you’re doing?” You croak out in an attempt at being playful.

“Yeah,” Mark responds confidently, then falters and grins sheepishly. “Kind of? I think?”

“You think,” you repeat with a soft, breathless laugh, letting your head fall back against his pillow (which smells just like him; fresh and soapy and something vaguely Mark).

“Just let me try,” he laughs, tugging your underwear down. “Tell me if it’s too horrible.”

“I guess I’ll sacrifice myself,” you giggle, smiling up at the Seance Dog poster above his bed.

“How noble of you,” he giggles before experimentally licking up the underside of your clit. The pressure is weird and sharp even though it’s vaguely pleasurable and you make a disgruntled noise, shifting slightly away.

“Wha—? Not good?” He asks, looking up at you with wide eyes.

“No,” you respond carefully, not wanting to discourage him but also not wanting to lie. “Uh, weird. The angle is… I don’t know.”

“Okay,” he responds, cheeks slightly red with embarrassment. “Okay, no, sure. I can take criticism. I’ll— let me try something different.”

He tilts his head down slightly while moving up, suctioning on your clit but this time from above and pressing down. His tongue swipes side-to-side to the best of his ability.

Dropping your shoulders, you feel your body become less tense. You sink into the bed, sighing as you thread your fingers through Mark’s hair.

“Better?” He murmurs, licking down to your opening before returning his attention to your clit.

“Yeah,” you laugh softly, smiling blissfully. “Maybe you do know what you’re doing.”

“Hey, female anatomy is different on every woman,” he laughs, continuing to kiss your clit while now slipping a singular finger into your entrance. “It’s not like there’s a guidebook, and you’d rock my shit if I used porn as my inspiration.”

“Duh,” you sigh, humming softly. Your eyes are closed, and the only indicator that you’re being pleasured is the warmth to your skin and your slightly labored breathing. “It’s an exploitative business that preys on marginalized women.”

“You’re so sexy when you care about the state of the world,” Mark laughs softly, hesitantly prodding with another finger. “This okay?”

“Mhm,” you hum, wetness lubricating you enough to allow for both his middle and ring finger to slowly slide inside you. The actual penetration itself does little for you, the main pleasure deriving instead from his attention on your clit, but the feeling of having Mark—your Mark—so close is comforting and adds to the sensuality of the experience. You sigh, shifting your hips slightly. “S’nice.”

“Just nice?” He asks softly with a small smile.

“You know what I mean,” you laugh softly, your breath hitching slightly as you feel yourself approaching an orgasm. “Really nice.”

“I aim to please,” he hums, sliding his fingers deeper into you as he licks into your sex.

“When do you not?” You ask breathlessly, smiling down at him. Your eyes meet and he squeezes your thigh gently, appreciating the understanding you always seem to have for him.

He continues to gently but eagerly eat you out, and by the time you’ve hit the 2-minute mark and you haven’t come, you start feeling guilty.

“You don’t have to continue,” you murmur, a foreign shame and sensation of self-disgust and greed hitting you. “We can move on to—“

“Baby, I’ve got a superhuman jaw and tongue,” he says playfully while smiling reassuringly up at you. “I can handle this. And you need to get out of your own head. You’re the one always talking about how male-centered sex is and how misogynistic it is that anything female-centered is considered foreplay.”

You grin softly.

“So you do listen to my rants.”

“Are you kidding me?” He laughs. “I love hearing you talk. And, you’ve got great points. I learn something new every day.”

With that, you allow yourself to be selfishly pleasured. You allow yourself to let the focus, the attention, be solely on you for no other reason than the fact that Mark wants it to be on you. A few moments later, your breathing becomes more shallow, your hips more restless as you buck up against Mark’s mouth, your grip on his hair tightening.

“Mh— ah,” you whisper, brows furrowed together. “Oh.”

Mark grins victoriously, your reaction renewing his energy.

“Close?”

“Yeah,” you breathe out, laughing softly as you raise yourself to your elbows. “Mmh…”

Mark focuses his attention on your clit, a dedicated concentration used as he continues to mouth at you until finally, you inhale deeply, your grip on his hair tightening. You tense up, curling up into his touch and stilling for a moment before shaking lightly, your hips bucking upward a few times. The quietest of whines escape you.

Slowly, you relax back against the bed, your fingers uncurling from his now slightly damp hair.

“How’d I do?” He asks, coming up with a bright puppy-like grin.

“Good,” you exhale, your skin pulsing with the rush of fresh blood throughout your body. “Really good.”

He leans down to kiss you deeply—sloppily this time, less controlled. More saliva is exchanged given his previous excessive use of his tongue which has clearly activated the salivary glands, but it’s sweet and tender nonetheless.

You pant softly against his lips for a few moments, catching your breath before you speak.

“Let me repay the favor—“

“Not a favor,” Mark interrupts, kissing your forehead. “My pleasure. We could also just stop now if you’re not up for more.”

His words are sincere, but the firm outline of his dick against your thigh tells you that he would very much enjoy continuing.

“C’mere,” you murmur, tugging him down for another kiss. You hesitantly bring your hand down to rub over his bulge, amused by how it feels both hard and soft at the same time.

Mark exhales shakily, dropping his head down into the crook of your neck.

“Mmh… that’s nice.”

“Just nice?” You murmur, mimicking his own previous words. You try to get a feel for the shape of him, but as he begins to slowly rock his hips into your hand, a nicer, less teasing side of you takes over and you tug down his boxers.

Much like the rest of him, he’s pretty. Just above average in length, slender, the same fair color as the rest of him but with a reddened, uncut tip. The base is covered in a well-groomed layer of dark hair.

“Don’t stare at my dick, you weirdo,” he laughs, capturing your lips in another kiss.

“You just spent the last five minutes between my legs, I’m allowed compensation.”

He scrunches up his nose, snorting.

“When you put it like that…”

He hooks his hands under your knees, lifting slightly as he hovers above you. He grabs onto his dick, gently stroking it before nudging the tip against your soaked pussy, slowly easing the inches inside.

“You okay? Tell me if you’re not okay,” Mark says softly, worry lacing his tone despite his eager outward appearance.

You nod, feeling the slightest of stretches, though he’s spent so long working you open that it’s little more than a pinch.

“I’m okay,” you whisper, letting out a breathless laugh.

“Good, good,” he laughs softly, groaning as he bottoms out. He takes a second to just settle inside you, his nose pressed into the dewy skin of your neck. He breathes slowly, his hands running up and down your sides. Still not moving, he peppers soft kisses up your neck.

“Wait, fuck!” He laughs, pulling out of you and scrambling toward his bedside table drawer. “Condom!”

“Oh, my God,” you laugh, covering your face with your hands as you giggle.

“Safe sex. Hell yeah,” Mark says, ripping open the package. He fishes out the condom, fumbling slightly as he pinches the slippery tip before rolling it down. “Don’t worry, babe. I got this. Basically a pro.”

“You’re such an idiot,” you laugh, smiling lovingly at him.

“All part of the appeal,” he laughs softly, gently re-entering you. “Still good?”

“Uh-huh,” you say softly. “Babe, huh?”

“Do you hate it?” He ask, cringing. “I can—“

“No,” you interrupt with a soft laugh, leaning up to kiss him again. “No, I like it. I like all the corny nicknames.”

“Yeah?” He asks, perking up. “Cute-pie. Sweetie. Gorgeous. Pretty, pretty girl.”

Steadily, he begins to rock his hips against you, exhaling shakily as you squeeze around him.

You hum softly, curling your hand around the back of his neck as you let him build up a rhythm. Your legs wrap around his hips, your own hips lifting with every slow thrust to meet him halfway. The penetration feels slightly strange, too intrusive and filling, but Mark’s reassuring smile has you smiling back and feeling comfortable. Once again, you don’t feel much pleasure from the friction inside you, but you find yourself enjoying being close to Mark.

He reaches down with one shaky hand, his finger coming down to press firmly against your clit while swiping against it.

“It’s hard to keep the pace actually,” he laughs softly, struggling with his finger. “It’s very slippery.”

“You’re doing just fine,” you laugh softly back, leaning up to kiss him.

Mark continues his pace, his thrusts short and slow as he kisses you back. It’s sweet how he kisses you, entirely focused on the sensation of lips against lips. His breathing becomes shallow and he groans quietly into your mouth.

“You’re so quiet,” he pants softly. “I feel like an idiot next to you.”

“No, no, don’t,” you whisper, peppering his face with reassuring kisses. “I like hearing you. And I feel really good, noise just doesn’t really come easily to me, y’know? But it feels good.”

“Okay,” he pants softly, followed by a whine. “I trust you. I believe you.”

You smile, kissing him again. Turns out you really like kissing him.

Soon enough his hips stutter against yours and he hides his face in the crook of your neck as he groans lowly, thrusting loosely into you as he comes. He stills, though his fingers continue to rub against you until you follow with a quiet, hitched gasp moments later.

You grab onto his hand, pressing it against your sex for another moment until the pressure is relieved and you can stand coming down from the intense stimulation.

Mark slumps down on the bed next to you, fumbling with unrolling the slippery latex around his dick before he can toss it in the trash can.

“Oh, man,” he laughs softly, rubbing a hand across his dewy, pink face. “That was insane. You’re insane.”

He turns, resting on one elbow as he leans over to kiss you.

“You’ve ruined me, I think. Like, permanently.”

You laugh softly into the kiss, reaching up to caress his face.

“There’s that sweetness again,” you murmur.

He grins, kissing the tip of your nose.

“You’re even prettier now,” he says, reaching up to smudge out the mascara stains on your eyelids. “Pretty girl.”

“Pretty boy,” you counter playfully.

“Got nothing on you,” he laughs, wrapping his bare arms tightly around you. While squeezing, he presses slow, languid kisses down the side of your face and neck. “Prettiest girl in the world.”

You smile, relaxing in his strong grip.

“Always got you,” he murmurs softly. “Except for now. You should go avoid a UTI.”

You laugh again, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before reaching down for your shirt.

“As long as I don’t meet your mom on my way to the bathroom, I’ll be fine.”

You stand up, stretching out your limbs before climbing back into your bottoms.

Mark let’s out a teasing purr from where he’s lying in bed, the covers only pulled up halfway across his hips.

“Come here often?” He asks, winking at you.

“I sure hope so,” you say with a soft chuckle, leaning down to kiss his forehead.

Mark smiles lovingly up at you,

“Is it super dorky and loser-like if I say I think I love you?”

“Yeah,” you say with a small grin. “But I guess that’s part of your appeal.”

“Right?” He laughs, locking his hands behind his head as he stretches out.

“I love you, too, dummy,” you laugh softly before slipping out of his bedroom and down the hall toward the bathroom.

[cactus-frog]

SPOILED ROTTEN.

pairing — mark grayson x gn!reader. [ established relationship ]

synopsis — in which you spoil your boyfriend mark with a well deserved warm bath and lots of love ♡ after he comes home tired from a mission, filled with doubts.

warnings — slight cursing. angsty? as in nolan continues to haunt him and his doubts, so mentions of blood. also gets kinda suggestive, mention of reader getting wet because im ovulating okay 0_o mark being babygirl as usual.

w.c — 2.1 k.

a/n — TYSM FOR THE SUPPORT ON MY PREVIOUS POST OMG BSJHJMPS. ALSO THAT FINALE WAS SO GOOD! and i have a final in an hour LOCK INN. again, english is not my first language so apologies for mistakes in advance :D

knock.

knock.

a knock on your window? at this hour? well you know who that is, your beloved boyfriend, the one and only mark grayson or well invincible, invinciboy if you feel like being a little shit :]

as soon as you slide your window open he's on you immediately, almost knocking you down onto the ground as he clings onto you for dear life. his face in your neck and arms wrapped around you tightly almost as if he's afraid.

"baby?" you ask, concerned but slightly amused.

you're met with silence.

so you try again. "love?" a little less amused this time.

he doesn't say anything, breathing you in as he buries his head further into the crook of your neck, as if trying to fuse his body with yours.

then it hits you, ah the fight on the tv.

you can practically feel the tension radiating off of him, he's all tense. you know he's hurt, both physically and mentally. mostly mentally.

he was once again forced into a situation where he had to hurt someone again, badly. he had no other choice, it's not his fault.

"sweetheart, you know it's not your fault right?"

you hear him sigh, he nuzzles his head against your shoulder like a cat, the action making your heart flutter.

you can't help yourself but kiss his forehead, cupping his face gently like you're the viltrumite here, not him, like you'll break him if you're not careful enough, like he's the most precious thing in the whole world, screw that in the whole universe.

and to you he is indeed the most precious thing in the whole universe.

you look into his warm brown eyes which look so unsure, unsure of himself and it breaks your heart. your thumbs lightly stroke his cheekbones while you press sweet soothing kisses all over his pretty face, hoping to take away some of his pain.

your onslaught of kisses and affection does bring a soft smile on his face, he's holding back a giggle as you keep peppering kisses on his face, showing no mercy.

his eyes seem a little brighter now, which is progress!

playfully nuzzling your nose against his, his face still in your hands, you kiss the tip of his nose, laughing when his nose scrunches a little in reaction, god he's so adorable.

"i love you invincib-" you start cheekily.

"don't." he warns with a knowing look, a small smile still adorning his lips. he knows you too well.

"-boy" you're never gonna let that go, are you?

"oh fuck off" he lightly shoves at your shoulder, feigning offense before pulling you in for a kiss.

"love you too dumbass" the banter's back, he's already feeling so much better. how do you do it? he honestly doesn't know.

a few kisses and sweet words later, you're running him a bath. he can't say no to you, you both know this. plus he could really use a nice warm bath right now, he needs to relax his tense muscles.

you put in his favorite scented bathbombs and make sure the temperature is just right before telling him to get in.

he lets out a small bashful chuckle at your whistle when he strips out of his clothes, making a show of flexing his muscles somewhat cockily and almost ends up falling face first on the cold wet marble of your bathroom floor.

he's such a dork.

you can see the way his muscles relax under the hot water once he gets in, the way his face is all blissed out is actually really cute or maybe you're just crazy whipped for mark grayson, a bit of both maybe.

you sit on the edge of the tub, watching him almost doze off, he must be really tired.

gently carding your fingers through his hair, you can't help but admire him.

"my beautiful boy" you whisper, leaning over to kiss his cheek.

the little flustered giggle he lets out has become one of your favorite sounds ever since you've started dating him.

his pupils turn into hearts when you offer to wash his hair for him, you're so sweet, a literal angel.

he doesn't deserve you.

he's killed people.

he has blood on his hands.

he has a part of his father in him.

as you lather your favorite shampoo and work it through your boyfriend's hair, feeling giddy at the thought of his hair smelling like yours, you can't help but think he's being awfully quiet. it seems even the soothing sensation of you massaging his head oh so gently like that isn't enough to drown out the voices.

he's usually rambling about something, well it's either you or seance dog usually but still.

he's overthinking again, you're sure if you close your eyes and focus hard enough you could almost hear it.

"markus sebastian grayson." you say in a playfully serious tone, squishing his cheeks and leaning in a little to peck his now puckered lips because of you smushing his face with your hands, "stop thinking for a bit baby."

"what if i turn out like my father" he doesn't hold back, voice cracking a little.

"mark-"

"no, you don't understan- what if i end up like him? god what if i end up hurting you-"

a beat of silence passes before you speak.

"what if you don't? "

that gets him to stop, mouth agape, his gaze on you. he forgets what he was going to say and the way you're washing his hair, rinsing the shampoo out, your nails softly raking against his scalp just right, the way you put a protective hand against his forehead so none of the shampoo goes in his eyes, it does nothing to him to remember what he was going to say.

"you are not your father", you press a kiss to his forehead.

"just because you're his son doesn't make you him", then a kiss to his cheek.

"you are not undeserving of love because of something your father did, not you", then your lips brush against the spot between his eyebrows, easing the tension between them.

"your father's action have nothing to do with you, my love", you press small kisses to his shoulder, his neck, his chest, over his beating heart.

you hear him suck a shaky breath in at the action, his shoulders slightly shaking, the unshed tears releasing without warning in the form of a small sniffle, it rips your heart in two :(

"because you are you, you are still mark grayson no matter what."

you are going to be the death of him.

your lips gently brush against his before pressing firmly against his soft lips, hoping to convey more with a tender kiss than your words ever will, knowing they don't do your feelings for him justice. your lips move in tandem with his, he pulls you close by the back of your neck, your hands resting on his chest and neither of you want to pull away from this moment.

his grip on you is desperate, the kiss feels searing on your lips, your heart is pounding against your chest, convinced it's gonna beat right out.

you refuse to let go of him, hands sliding slowly up and down his body, almost reverently.

it's intoxicating and dizzying, you feel like you're floating with the way he's kissing you, like an inch of space is going to kill him.

when you do manage to get your gears working, eyes opening up a little, you gently wipe his tears, pulling away only slightly to breathe because you don't want to die- actually, on second thought, that's not a terrible way to go out.

"no- please-" he begs, don't leave him please. he's chasing your lips and slipping his tongue in your mouth, he needs this.

he needs you.

soft moans are muffled between your mouths, his hands are everywhere, everything's too much yet not enough at the same time, his touch leaves a trail of fire behind that leaves you wanting more.

and of course, he ends up "accidentally" pulling you in the bathtub with him.

"mark!" you let out a small squeal, followed by a small laugh from him.

"sorry babe" oh he sounds real sorry alright.

your attention falls on the small, thin string of saliva, still connecting both of your mouths, your heavy lidded eyes lock with his, he's all flushed, lips swollen and shiny.

"that was hot" he sheepishly admits, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, all bashful like you aren't literally going crazy because of him. and now he's looking at you like you've hung the stars and the moon in the sky.

yeah, you're wet and not from the water i'll tell you that.

but that can wait, this night is all about pampering your beloved alien boy!

you see him open and close his mouth a couple times. words fail him, so instead, he grabs your hand and places a kiss to each of your knuckles one by one, a silent confession of the affection and love he holds for you that is downright overwhelming.

his eyes never leave yours, the whole thing feels raw and intensely intimate, no words are exchanged but rather they are felt, the unconditional acceptance from you and his immense gratitude, need no words.

"thank you" the sincerity in his voice is undeniable and so is the look of love in his eyes, that's reserved only for you.

you roll your eyes fondly when he playfully smears some of the bubbles from the bath onto your nose, typical mark behavior right there.

once he's all clean, both emotionally and physically for the night you help him out of the tub after getting yourself out first, trying and failing miserably not to stare at him. more like gawking but oh well that's his fault for looking like that okay.

he drys himself with the towel you gave him, wrapping it around his waist once he's done.

because of his earlier mischievousnes, you also had to change out of your wet pyjamas into new dry ones. his ass is not sorry about that, the annoying little smirk is proof.

the domesticity of it all however warms your heart, the way he's in nothing but a towel around his waist while you're in your pjs, brushing teeth together and giggling over dumb stuff, oh how you wish it could always be like this.

that little glint in his eyes is back again and you couldn't be more happy.

you even help him dry his hair with your trusty hairdryer, sitting him down on your bed as you work it skillfully through his soft hair which now smells like your shampoo, the blissful expression on his face is enough to make you melt right then and there. laughing when he shakes his head like a puppy, he's not beating the puppy boy allegations anytime soon. not that he minds as long as you're the one teasing him about it.

and he may or may not have a thing for you calling him that but you don't have to know that, well atleast yet.

he slips into a pair of sweatpants and boxers he left at your place awhile ago, picking you up easily and tackling you to your bed.

now it's his turn to return the affection, or well as sleepily as one can.

he kisses you like there's no tomorrow, like you're the only thing keeping him sane and alive, which wouldn't be too far from the truth.

good luck trying to tuck him in bed, he's so stubborn, "babe i'm not sleepy!" he says, he almost slept on your shoulder like a baby a minute ago. this fucker.

he's only doing this because he wants to spend more time with you, he still feels guilty, he knows he puts being a superhero over everything else, meaning he barely gets to send time with his beautiful partner.

however all those thoughts are out the window the second you trails kisses down his neck, his eyes flutter shut and he sighs, clearly pleased.

and when you do manage to tuck his ass in bed, a kiss to his forehead and countless "i love you's" are exchanged between you both, he rests his head on your chest and listens to your heartbeat, a firm reminder that you're here and all his to cherish.

he almost lets out a small moan when your nails gently scratch at his scalp and lightly at his nape, he loves when you play with his hair, nuzzling against your comfortable chest. he's in heaven.

soon enough he surrenders himself to sleep and to you, one last kiss right over where your heart is beating which belongs to him and him only, the action making your breath hitch and chest tighten with affection and before you know it, he's out like a light.

he's so grateful to have you. he knows he doesn't deserve you, eventhough you say otherwise but he'll be damned if he ever lets you go.

you're all his.

and he's all yours <3

and yes, he will drool all over your chest like a baby so good luck with that :3

© digitald0rk 2025. please do not steal / repost any of my work! thank you for reading :] want more? click here ★

[cactus-frog]

Its not a competition

A group of Mark Graysons from different realities sat in a rough circle, postured like they were at some kind of interdimensional support group. Except, instead of discussing trauma, morals, or the existential horror of being a multiversal constant, they were arguing over who had the best Reader.

Because apparently, that was the priority here.

Viltrumite!Mark crossed his arms, looking unimpressed. “Mine is obedient and listens to my every command.” His voice was laced with pride, like he was stating a universal truth. "No complaints, no resistance. They know their place."

Sinister!Mark scoffed, leaning back in his chair, his cape flaring dramatically as if the very air respected him. “Obedient?” he echoed, eyes glinting. “That’s boring. Mine created an entire rebellion against my empire.” He grinned, teeth sharp. “I kept them alive so we could fuck in between fights.”

Silence.

Some of the Marks shifted uncomfortably. Mohawk!Mark just nodded in approval. NoGoggles!Mark looked toointerested.

NoGoggles!Mark’s grin was feral, bruises barely healing from whatever fight he just crawled out of. “Mine likes to punch the living shit out of me!” he laughed, tilting his head like a dog listening for a whistle. “She really hates me! Like, actively hates me! It’s so fucking fun.”

Viltrumite!Mark and Sinister!Mark looked at him like he just said he enjoyed getting hit by a truck. Which, knowing him, he probably did.

Mohawk!Mark shrugged, amused. “Mine always has plans to kill me,” he said, scratching his chin like he was fondly remembering an assassination attempt. “Too bad she gets cock-drunk before she can actually initiate them.”

Sinister!Mark snorted. “Pathetic.”

Mohawk!Mark smirked. “Jealous?”

Sinister!Mark glared. NoGoggles!Mark looked like he wanted to fist-bump him.

Mainstream!Mark had been sitting there quietly, arms crossed, waiting for the nonsense to end. Now, he just shrugged and said, “I got mine pregnant.”

Silence.

Dead silence.

All the Marks stared at him.

Then, like some collective, hive-mind realization, their eyes glinted at the same time.

“Yeah,” Sinister!Mark mused, rubbing his chin. “I should do that next.”

“Damn,” NoGoggles!Mark muttered, a lightbulb clearly going off in his head.

Viltrumite!Mark simply hummed in approval, like it was already on his agenda.

Mohawk!Mark clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “Guess I gotta stop dodging those baby traps.”

Mainstream!Mark’s face dropped. “Wait—NO—guys, that wasn’t—”

Too late.

The multiverse had just been given a really bad idea.

[cactus-frog]

˚୨୧₊♱ deer dolly ao3 link

♱; All characters featured in this story belong to VivziePop. This story is a deviation from the canon material. | update: taglist full :(( | my playlist!

MAINSERIES

part i | part ii | part iii | part iv | part v. | part vi. | part vii. | part viii. | part ix. ...more coming soon!

SPIN-OFFS/ONESHOTS

patching him up + making him jealous on purpose

ART

by me! -> dolly I by @shizukaay0 -> dolly I . dolly II . see more on their acc!

ASKS

jessicarabbit drabble + voiceclaim | character inspo | deep dive into dolly's mind

[cactus-frog]

𝑫𝑪 𝑪𝑶𝑴𝑰𝑪𝑺 ☆ 𝑴𝑨𝑺𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻

𝐅𝐋𝐔𝐅𝐅 ⎯๋⎯ׅ ♡ 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 ⎯๋⎯ׅ ♥︎

𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐓 ⎯๋⎯ׅ ☆ +𝟏𝟖 𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐓 ⎯๋⎯ׅ ♱

⎯ 𝐻𝐸𝐴𝐷𝐶𝐴𝑁𝑂𝑁 ⎯⎯۪⎯⎯๋⎯⎯ׅ⎯⎯ׂ⎯⎯ׅ⎯⎯๋⎯ׅ⎯

︵⏜ㅤֹㅤ⊹ㅤㅤ𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐁𝐔𝐍𝐍𝐘ㅤ𝅼ㅤ𖥦ㅤ۫ㅤ⏜︵

¡ㅤ ֗ㅤ ๑ㅤ 𝅼 ㅤ꒰ㅤ𝘽𝙖𝙩𝙗𝙤𝙮𝙨 𝙭 𝙁𝙚𝙢 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧ㅤ꒱ㅤ ۫ ㅤ𑁤ㅤ 𖥧

♥︎ 𝙎𝙔𝙉𝙊𝙋𝙎𝙄𝙎 : 𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘣𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘵��𝘮𝘪𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘺 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨?

︵⏜ㅤֹㅤ⊹ㅤㅤ𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊ㅤ𝅼ㅤ𖥦ㅤ۫ㅤ⏜︵

¡ㅤ ֗ㅤ ๑ㅤ 𝅼 ㅤ꒰ㅤ𝘽𝙧𝙪𝙘𝙚 𝙒𝙖𝙮𝙣𝙚 𝙭 𝙁𝙚𝙢 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧ㅤ꒱ㅤ ۫ ㅤ𑁤ㅤ 𖥧

♥︎ 𝙎𝙔𝙉𝙊𝙋𝙎𝙄𝙎 : 𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘰𝘣𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥?

︵⏜ㅤֹㅤ⊹ㅤ 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐆 ㅤ𖥦ㅤ۫ㅤ⏜︵

¡ㅤ ֗ㅤ ๑ㅤ 𝅼 ㅤ꒰ㅤ𝘿𝙞𝙘𝙠 𝙂𝙧𝙖𝙮𝙨𝙤𝙣 𝙭 𝙁𝙚𝙢 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧ㅤ꒱ㅤ ۫ ㅤ𑁤ㅤ 𖥧

♥︎ 𝙎𝙔𝙉𝙊𝙋𝙎𝙄𝙎 : 𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘰𝘣𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥?

︵⏜ㅤֹㅤ⊹ㅤ 𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐃 ㅤ𖥦ㅤ۫ㅤ⏜︵

¡ㅤ ֗ㅤ ๑ㅤ 𝅼 ㅤ꒰ㅤ𝙅𝙖𝙨𝙤𝙣 𝙏𝙤𝙙𝙙 𝙭 𝙁𝙚𝙢 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧ㅤ꒱ㅤ ۫ ㅤ𑁤ㅤ 𖥧

♥︎ 𝙎𝙔𝙉𝙊𝙋𝙎𝙄𝙎 : 𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘰𝘣𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥?

︵⏜ㅤֹㅤ⊹ ㅤ𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐌𝐀𝐍 ㅤ𖥦ㅤ۫ㅤ⏜︵

¡ㅤ ֗ㅤ ๑ㅤ 𝅼 ㅤ꒰ㅤ𝘿𝙖𝙢𝙞𝙖𝙣 𝙒𝙖𝙮𝙣𝙚 𝙭 𝙁𝙚𝙢 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧ㅤ꒱ㅤ ۫ ㅤ𑁤ㅤ 𖥧

♥︎ 𝙎𝙔𝙉𝙊𝙋𝙎𝙄𝙎 : 𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘰𝘣𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥?

︵⏜ㅤֹㅤ⊹ ㅤ 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐊𝐄 ㅤ 𖥦ㅤ۫ㅤ⏜︵

¡ㅤ ֗ㅤ ๑ㅤ 𝅼 ㅤ꒰ㅤ𝙎𝙡𝙖𝙙𝙚 𝙒𝙞𝙡𝙨𝙤𝙣 𝙭 𝙁𝙚𝙢 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧ㅤ꒱ㅤ ۫ ㅤ𑁤ㅤ 𖥧

♥︎ 𝙎𝙔𝙉𝙊𝙋𝙎𝙄𝙎 : 𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘰𝘣𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥?

︵⏜ㅤֹㅤ⊹ㅤㅤ𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐃ㅤ𝅼ㅤ𖥦ㅤ۫ㅤ⏜︵

¡ㅤ ֗ㅤ ๑ㅤ 𝅼 ㅤ꒰ㅤ𝘿𝙖𝙢𝙞𝙖𝙣 𝙒𝙖𝙮𝙣𝙚 𝙭 𝙁𝙚𝙢 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧ㅤ꒱ㅤ ۫ ㅤ𑁤ㅤ 𖥧

♥︎ 𝙎𝙔𝙉𝙊𝙋𝙎𝙄𝙎 : 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘤𝘬'𝘴 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶... 𝘜𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵... 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢 𝘱𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘺 𝘤𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘩, 𝘰𝘩 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦...

♡ — ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴ “ ᴾᴬᴿᵀ ¹ ᴾᴬᴿᵀ ² ᴾᴬᴿᵀ ³ ”

︵⏜ㅤֹㅤ⊹ㅤ ㅤ𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐍 𝐁𝐎𝐘 ㅤ𖥦ㅤ۫ㅤ⏜︵

¡ㅤ ֗ㅤ ๑ㅤ 𝅼 ㅤ꒰ㅤ𝘿𝙞𝙘𝙠 𝙂𝙧𝙖𝙮𝙨𝙤𝙣 𝙭 𝙁𝙚𝙢 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧ㅤ꒱ㅤ ۫ ㅤ𑁤ㅤ 𖥧

♥︎ 𝙎𝙔𝙉𝙊𝙋𝙎𝙄𝙎 : 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘱𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘺 𝘤𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘩 (𝘰𝘣𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯).

︵⏜ㅤֹㅤ⊹ㅤ ㅤ𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐄 ㅤ𖥦ㅤ۫ㅤ⏜︵

¡ㅤ ֗ㅤ ๑ㅤ 𝅼 ㅤ꒰ㅤ𝙅𝙖𝙨𝙤𝙣 𝙏𝙤𝙙𝙙 𝙭 𝙁𝙚𝙢 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧ㅤ꒱ㅤ ۫ ㅤ𑁤ㅤ 𖥧

♥︎ 𝙎𝙔𝙉𝙊𝙋𝙎𝙄𝙎 : 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘱𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘺 𝘤𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘩 (𝘰𝘣𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯).

︵⏜ㅤֹㅤ⊹ㅤ ㅤ 𝐀 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐋𝐄𝐌𝐀𝐍 ㅤ𖥦ㅤ۫ㅤ⏜︵

¡ㅤ ֗ㅤ ๑ㅤ 𝅼 ㅤ꒰ㅤ𝘿𝙖𝙢𝙞𝙖𝙣 𝙒𝙖𝙮𝙣𝙚 𝙭 𝙁𝙚𝙢 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧ㅤ꒱ㅤ ۫ ㅤ𑁤ㅤ 𖥧

♥︎ 𝙎𝙔𝙉𝙊𝙋𝙎𝙄𝙎 : 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘱𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘺 𝘤𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘩 (𝘰𝘣𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯).

︵⏜ㅤֹㅤ⊹ㅤㅤ𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐁𝐘 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃ㅤ𝅼ㅤ𖥦ㅤ۫ㅤ⏜︵

¡ㅤ ֗ㅤ ๑ㅤ 𝅼 ㅤ꒰ㅤ𝘽𝙖𝙩𝙗𝙤𝙮𝙨 𝙭 𝙁𝙚𝙢 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧ㅤ꒱ㅤ ۫ ㅤ𑁤ㅤ 𖥧

♥︎ 𝙎𝙔𝙉𝙊𝙋𝙎𝙄𝙎 : 𝘙𝘢𝘯𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘍𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘛𝘰 𝘉𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘈𝘴 𝘈 𝘍𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳.

♡ — ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ : ʙʀᴜᴄᴇ ᴡᴀʏɴᴇ, ᴅɪᴄᴋ ɢʀᴀʏꜱᴏɴ, ᴊᴀꜱᴏɴ ᴛᴏᴅᴅ, ᴛɪᴍ ᴅʀᴀᴋᴇ, ᴅᴀᴍɪᴀɴ ᴡᴀʏɴᴇ

︵⏜ㅤֹㅤ⊹ㅤㅤ𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋ㅤ𝅼ㅤ𖥦ㅤ۫ㅤ⏜︵

¡ㅤ ֗ㅤ ๑ㅤ 𝅼 ㅤ꒰ㅤ𝘽𝙖𝙩𝙗𝙤𝙮𝙨 𝙭 𝙁𝙚𝙢 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧ㅤ꒱ㅤ ۫ ㅤ𑁤ㅤ 𖥧

♱ 𝙎𝙔𝙉𝙊𝙋𝙎𝙄𝙎 : 𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘬𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘺...

♡ — ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ : ʙʀᴜᴄᴇ ᴡᴀʏɴᴇ, ᴅɪᴄᴋ ɢʀᴀʏꜱᴏɴ, ᴊᴀꜱᴏɴ ᴛᴏᴅᴅ, ᴅᴀᴍɪᴀɴ ᴡᴀʏɴᴇ

︵⏜ㅤֹㅤ⊹ㅤㅤ𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐋𝐘 𝐍𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐁𝐎𝐑ㅤ𝅼ㅤ𖥦ㅤ۫ㅤ⏜︵

¡ㅤ ֗ㅤ ๑ㅤ 𝅼 ㅤ꒰ㅤ𝘽𝙖𝙩𝙗𝙤𝙮𝙨 𝙭 𝙎𝙥𝙞𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙜𝙞𝙧𝙡 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧ㅤ꒱ㅤ ۫ ㅤ𑁤ㅤ 𖥧

♡ 𝙎𝙔𝙉𝙊𝙋𝙎𝙄𝙎 : 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢 𝘬𝘪𝘥 𝘵𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘣𝘢𝘵𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦...

♡ — ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴ “ ᴾᴬᴿᵀ ¹ ᴾᴬᴿᵀ ² ”

♡ — ᴀꜱᴋ “ᴡʜᴏ ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴄʀʏ/ᴛʜʀᴏᴡ ᴜᴘ/ᴍᴜʀᴅᴇʀ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ɪꜰ ᴘᴇʀᴠᴇʀᴛ!ꜱᴘɪᴅᴇʀ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴛʀɪᴇᴅ ʀɪᴢᴢɪɴɢ ᴜᴘ ᴛʜᴀʟɪᴀ ᴏʀ ʀʜᴀꜱ ᴀʟ ɢʜᴜʟ?”

♡ — ᴀꜱᴋ “ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ʙʀᴜᴄᴇ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ɪɴᴛʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ ʏ/ɴ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴊᴜꜱᴛɪᴄᴇ ʟᴇᴀɢᴜᴇ? ɪ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴛᴏᴛᴀʟʟʏ ꜱᴇᴇ ʜᴇʀ ꜱɪᴍᴘɪɴɢ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ꜰʟᴀꜱʜ ᴏʀ ᴄᴏɴɴᴇʀ ᴋᴇɴᴛ.”

♡ — ᴀꜱᴋ “ʜᴏᴡ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴛʜᴇʏ ʀᴇᴀᴄᴛ ᴛᴏ ʜᴇʀ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ɪɴᴊᴜʀᴇᴅ ᴏʀ ᴅᴇᴀᴅ.”

︵⏜ㅤֹㅤ⊹ㅤㅤ𝐏𝐔𝐏𝐏𝐘 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄ㅤ𝅼ㅤ𖥦ㅤ۫ㅤ⏜︵

¡ㅤ ֗ㅤ ๑ㅤ 𝅼 ㅤ꒰ㅤ𝘿𝙖𝙢𝙞𝙖𝙣 𝙭 𝙁𝙚𝙢 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙭 𝙅𝙤𝙣ㅤ꒱ㅤ ۫ ㅤ𑁤ㅤ 𖥧

♡ 𝙎𝙔𝙉𝙊𝙋𝙎𝙄𝙎 : 𝘑𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘬𝘪𝘥. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘭... 𝘌𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘑𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘤𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘩 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘪𝘨 𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳...

♡ — ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴ “ ᴾᴬᴿᵀ ¹ ”

︵⏜ㅤֹㅤ⊹ㅤㅤ𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋ㅤ𝅼ㅤ𖥦ㅤ۫ㅤ⏜︵

¡ㅤ ֗ㅤ ๑ㅤ 𝅼 ㅤ꒰ㅤ𝘽𝙧𝙪𝙘𝙚 𝙒𝙖𝙮𝙣𝙚 𝙭 𝘿𝙖𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧ㅤ꒱ㅤ ۫ ㅤ𑁤ㅤ 𖥧

♥︎ 𝙎𝙔𝙉𝙊𝙋𝙎𝙄𝙎 : 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘳, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘰𝘯. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘢𝘤𝘤𝘦𝘱𝘵 𝘪𝘵, 𝘴𝘰 𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵. 𝘏𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘥...

♡ — ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴ “ ��ᴬᴿᵀ ¹ ”

︵⏜ㅤֹㅤ⊹ㅤㅤ𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐆 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄ㅤ𝅼ㅤ𖥦ㅤ۫ㅤ⏜︵

¡ㅤ ֗ㅤ ๑ㅤ 𝅼 ㅤ꒰ㅤ𝙍𝙤𝙗𝙞𝙣𝙨 𝙭 𝙁𝙚𝙢 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧ㅤ꒱ㅤ ۫ ㅤ𑁤ㅤ 𖥧

♡ 𝙎𝙔𝙉𝙊𝙋𝙎𝙄𝙎 : 𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘺𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥?

♡ — ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ : ᴅɪᴄᴋ ɢʀᴀʏꜱᴏɴ, ᴊᴀꜱᴏɴ ᴛᴏᴅᴅ, ᴅᴀᴍɪᴀɴ ᴡᴀʏɴᴇ

︵⏜ㅤֹㅤ⊹ㅤㅤ𝐀 𝟏𝟎/𝟏𝟎ㅤ𝅼ㅤ𖥦ㅤ۫ㅤ⏜︵

¡ㅤ ֗ㅤ ๑ㅤ 𝅼 ㅤ꒰ㅤ𝘽𝙖𝙩𝙗𝙤𝙮𝙨 𝙭 𝙁𝙚𝙢 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧ㅤ꒱ㅤ ۫ ㅤ𑁤ㅤ 𖥧

♱ 𝙎𝙔𝙉𝙊𝙋𝙎𝙄𝙎 : 𝘎𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘥!𝘤𝘬.

♡ — ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ : ʙʀᴜᴄᴇ ᴡᴀʏɴᴇ, ᴅɪᴄᴋ ɢʀᴀʏꜱᴏɴ, ᴊᴀꜱᴏɴ ᴛᴏᴅᴅ, ᴅᴀᴍɪᴀɴ ᴡᴀʏɴᴇ

︵⏜ㅤֹㅤ⊹ㅤㅤ𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄ㅤ𝅼ㅤ𖥦ㅤ۫ㅤ⏜︵

¡ㅤ ֗ㅤ ๑ㅤ 𝅼 ㅤ꒰ㅤ𝘿𝙖𝙢𝙞𝙖𝙣 𝙒𝙖𝙮𝙣𝙚 𝙭 𝙁𝙚𝙢 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧ㅤ꒱ㅤ ۫ ㅤ𑁤ㅤ 𖥧

♥︎ 𝙎𝙔𝙉𝙊𝙋𝙎𝙄𝙎 : 𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘩𝘶𝘴𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘥?

︵⏜ㅤֹㅤ⊹ㅤㅤ 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐄𝐑 ㅤㅤ 𖥦 ㅤ۫ㅤ⏜︵

¡ㅤ ֗ㅤ ๑ㅤ 𝅼 ㅤ꒰ㅤ𝘿𝙞𝙘𝙠 𝙂𝙧𝙖𝙮𝙨𝙤𝙣 𝙭 𝙁𝙚𝙢 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧ㅤ꒱ㅤ ۫ ㅤ𑁤ㅤ 𖥧

♥︎ 𝙎𝙔𝙉𝙊𝙋𝙎𝙄𝙎 : 𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘦𝘳?

⎯ 𝑆𝐶𝐸𝑁𝐴𝑅𝐼𝑂 ⎯⎯۪⎯⎯๋⎯⎯ׅ⎯⎯ׂ⎯⎯ׅ⎯⎯๋⎯ׅ⎯⎯๋

︵⏜ㅤֹㅤ⊹ㅤ ㅤ𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘 𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐇 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐒𝐔𝐈𝐓 ㅤ𝅼 ㅤ𖥦ㅤ۫ㅤ⏜︵

¡ㅤ ֗ㅤ ๑ㅤ 𝅼 ㅤ꒰ㅤ𝘽𝙖𝙩𝙗𝙤𝙮𝙨 𝙭 𝙁𝙚𝙢 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧ㅤ꒱ㅤ ۫ ㅤ𑁤ㅤ 𖥧

♱ 𝙎𝙔𝙉𝙊𝙋𝙎𝙄𝙎 : 𝘏𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘴𝘶𝘪𝘵, 𝘴𝘰 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬 𝘩𝘪𝘮?

♡ — ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ : ʙʀᴜᴄᴇ ᴡᴀʏɴᴇ, ᴅɪᴄᴋ ɢʀᴀʏꜱᴏɴ, ᴊᴀꜱᴏɴ ᴛᴏᴅᴅ, ᴅᴀᴍɪᴀɴ ᴡᴀʏɴᴇ

︵⏜ㅤֹㅤ⊹ㅤ ㅤ𝐋𝐈𝐏𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐊 ㅤ𝅼 ㅤ𖥦ㅤ۫ㅤ⏜︵

¡ㅤ ֗ㅤ ๑ㅤ 𝅼 ㅤ꒰ㅤ𝙍𝙤𝙗𝙞𝙣𝙨 𝙭 𝙁𝙚𝙢 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧ㅤ꒱ㅤ ۫ ㅤ𑁤ㅤ 𖥧

♡ 𝙎𝙔𝙉𝙊𝙋𝙎𝙄𝙎 : 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘓𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘓𝘪𝘱𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘔𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘖𝘯 𝘙𝘰𝘣𝘪𝘯'𝘴 𝘓𝘪𝘱𝘴...

♡ — ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ : ᴅɪᴄᴋ ɢʀᴀʏꜱᴏɴ, ᴊᴀꜱᴏɴ ᴛᴏᴅᴅ, ᴅᴀᴍɪᴀɴ ᴡᴀʏɴᴇ

︵⏜ㅤֹㅤ⊹ㅤ ㅤ𝐃𝐀𝐌𝐍 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 ㅤ𝅼 ㅤ𖥦ㅤ۫ㅤ⏜︵

¡ㅤ ֗ㅤ ๑ㅤ 𝅼 ㅤ꒰ㅤ𝘽𝙖𝙩𝙗𝙤𝙮𝙨 𝙭 𝙁𝙚𝙢 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧ㅤ꒱ㅤ ۫ ㅤ𑁤ㅤ 𖥧

♡ 𝙎𝙔𝙉𝙊𝙋𝙎𝙄𝙎 : 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘢𝘴𝘴.

♡ — ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ : ʙʀᴜᴄᴇ ᴡᴀʏɴᴇ, ᴅɪᴄᴋ ɢʀᴀʏꜱᴏɴ, ᴊᴀꜱᴏɴ ᴛᴏᴅᴅ, ᴛɪᴍ ᴅʀᴀᴋᴇ, ᴅᴜᴋᴇ ᴛʜᴏᴍᴀꜱ, ᴅᴀᴍɪᴀɴ ᴡᴀʏɴᴇ

︵⏜ㅤֹㅤ⊹ㅤ ㅤ𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐏𝐒 ㅤ𝅼 ㅤ𖥦ㅤ۫ㅤ⏜︵

¡ㅤ ֗ㅤ ๑ㅤ 𝅼 ㅤ꒰ㅤ𝙍𝙤𝙗𝙞𝙣𝙨 𝙭 𝙁𝙚𝙢 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧ㅤ꒱ㅤ ۫ ㅤ𑁤ㅤ 𖥧

♡ 𝙎𝙔𝙉𝙊𝙋𝙎𝙄𝙎 : 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘒𝘪𝘴𝘴 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘍𝘰𝘳 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘍𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘛𝘪𝘮𝘦...

♡ — ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ : ᴅɪᴄᴋ ɢʀᴀʏꜱᴏɴ, ᴊᴀꜱᴏɴ ᴛᴏᴅᴅ, ᴛɪᴍ ᴅʀᴀᴋᴇ, ᴅᴀᴍɪᴀɴ ᴡᴀʏɴᴇ

︵⏜ㅤֹㅤ⊹ㅤ ㅤ𝐌𝐘 𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐙𝐘 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃 ㅤ𝅼 ㅤ𖥦ㅤ۫ㅤ⏜︵

¡ㅤ ֗ㅤ ๑ㅤ 𝅼 ㅤ꒰ㅤ𝙍𝙤𝙗𝙞𝙣𝙨 𝙭 𝙁𝙚𝙢 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧ㅤ꒱ㅤ ۫ ㅤ𑁤ㅤ 𖥧

♡ 𝙎𝙔𝙉𝙊𝙋𝙎𝙄𝙎 : 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘻𝘺 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘭.

♡ — ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ : ᴅɪᴄᴋ ɢʀᴀʏꜱᴏɴ, ᴊᴀꜱᴏɴ ᴛᴏᴅᴅ, ᴛɪᴍ ᴅʀᴀᴋᴇ, ᴅᴀᴍɪᴀɴ ᴡᴀʏɴᴇ

⎯ 𝑆𝐸𝑅𝐼𝐸𝑆 ⎯⎯۪⎯⎯๋⎯⎯ׅ⎯⎯ׂ⎯⎯ׅ⎯⎯๋⎯ׅ⎯⎯๋⎯⎯ׅ

︵⏜ㅤֹㅤ⊹ㅤㅤ𝐉𝐀𝐘𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐃ㅤ𝅼ㅤ𖥦ㅤ۫ㅤ⏜︵

¡ㅤ ֗ㅤ ๑ㅤ 𝅼 ㅤ꒰ㅤ𝙅𝙖𝙨𝙤𝙣 𝙏𝙤𝙙𝙙 𝙭 𝙁𝙚𝙢 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧ㅤ꒱ㅤ ۫ ㅤ𑁤ㅤ 𖥧

♥︎ 𝙎𝙔𝙉𝙊𝙋𝙎𝙄𝙎 : 𝘈𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘦𝘧𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘦𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘥. 𝘠𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘉𝘳𝘶𝘤𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘯𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘢 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘺. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘢 𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘦, 𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘧𝘵 𝘢 𝘣𝘰𝘹 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘥𝘰𝘰𝘳...

♡ — ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ “ ᴾᴬᴿᵀ ¹ ᴾᴬᴿᵀ ² ᴾᴬᴿᵀ ³ ᴾᴬᴿᵀ ⁴ ᴾᴬᴿᵀ ⁵ ”

⎯ 𝑂𝑁𝐸 𝑆𝐻𝑂𝑇 ⎯⎯۪⎯⎯๋⎯⎯ׅ⎯⎯ׂ⎯⎯ׅ⎯⎯๋⎯ׅ⎯⎯๋

︵⏜ㅤֹㅤ⊹ㅤㅤ𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐖𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘ㅤ𝅼ㅤ𖥦ㅤ۫ㅤ⏜︵

¡ㅤ ֗ㅤ ๑ㅤ 𝅼 ㅤ꒰ㅤ𝙅𝙖𝙨𝙤𝙣 𝙏𝙤𝙙𝙙 𝙭 𝙁𝙚𝙢 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧ㅤ꒱ㅤ ۫ ㅤ𑁤ㅤ 𖥧

♡ 𝙎𝙔𝙉𝙊𝙋𝙎𝙄𝙎 : 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘨𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥, 𝘑𝘢𝘴𝘰𝘯'𝘴 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘢𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥...

︵⏜ㅤֹㅤ⊹ㅤㅤ𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐒 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆ㅤ𝅼ㅤ𖥦ㅤ۫ㅤ⏜︵

¡ㅤ ֗ㅤ ๑ㅤ 𝅼 ㅤ꒰ㅤ𝘿𝙞𝙘𝙠 𝙭 𝙒𝙖𝙮𝙣𝙚 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙭 𝙅𝙖𝙨𝙤𝙣ㅤ꒱ㅤ ۫ ㅤ𑁤ㅤ 𖥧

♱ 𝙎𝙔𝙉𝙊𝙋𝙎𝙄𝙎 : 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘯'𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶.

⎯ 𝐷𝑅𝐴𝐵𝐵𝐿𝐸 ⎯⎯۪⎯⎯๋⎯⎯ׅ⎯⎯ׂ⎯⎯ׅ⎯⎯๋⎯ׅ⎯⎯๋

𝘿𝙄𝘾𝙆 𝙂𝙍𝘼𝙔𝙎𝙊𝙉 𝙄𝙎 𝙔𝙊𝙐𝙍 𝘾𝙊𝙒𝙊𝙍𝙆𝙀𝙍 ⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀♱

𝙅𝘼𝙎𝙊𝙉 𝙏𝙊𝘿𝘿 𝙄𝙎 𝘼 𝙎𝙈𝙊𝙆𝙀𝙍 ⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀♡

⎯ 𝑂𝑇𝐻𝐸𝑅𝑆 ⎯⎯۪⎯⎯๋⎯⎯ׅ⎯⎯ׂ⎯⎯ׅ⎯⎯๋⎯ׅ⎯⎯๋⎯

𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑 𝐓𝐄𝐗𝐓𝐒 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟏 : 𝘉𝘳𝘶𝘤𝘦 𝘞𝘢𝘺𝘯𝘦, 𝘋𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘎𝘳𝘢𝘺𝘴𝘰𝘯, 𝘑𝘢𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘛𝘰𝘥𝘥, 𝘋𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘢𝘯 𝘞𝘢𝘺𝘯𝘦

𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑 𝐓𝐄𝐗𝐓𝐒 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟐 : 𝘉𝘳𝘶𝘤𝘦 𝘞𝘢𝘺𝘯𝘦, 𝘋𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘎𝘳𝘢𝘺𝘴𝘰𝘯, 𝘑𝘢𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘛𝘰𝘥𝘥, 𝘛𝘪𝘮 𝘋𝘳𝘢𝘬𝘦, 𝘋𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘢𝘯 𝘞𝘢𝘺𝘯𝘦

𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑 𝐓𝐄𝐗𝐓𝐒 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟑 : 𝘉𝘳𝘶𝘤𝘦 𝘞𝘢𝘺𝘯𝘦, 𝘋𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘎𝘳𝘢𝘺𝘴𝘰𝘯, 𝘑𝘢𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘛𝘰𝘥𝘥, 𝘋𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘢𝘯 𝘞𝘢𝘺𝘯𝘦

𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐒 𝐓𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒 +𝟏𝟖 : 𝘉𝘳𝘶𝘤𝘦 𝘞𝘢𝘺𝘯𝘦, 𝘋𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘎𝘳𝘢𝘺𝘴𝘰𝘯, 𝘑𝘢𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘛𝘰𝘥𝘥, 𝘋𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘢𝘯 𝘞𝘢𝘺𝘯𝘦

— All Rights Reserved © Works are exclusive to this Tumblr ☆