#beautiful and awful and i love it thank you

[urdreamydoodles]

Hello!!! I just found your page and yes I already I love your work!!

If it’s no trouble, may I ask for X-men characters with a Pregnant s/o headcanons? Like how they would be when you tell them you’re pregnant, how they are when you’re pregnant, and how they’d be during labor! 😵‍💫😵‍💫

Could I also ask it be with: Logan, Scott, Gambit, Ororo, Colossus, and Kurt??

If not it’s totally okay! Have a great rest of your day 💖💖

X-Men x Pregnant!Reader

How they handle your pregnancy

Each X-Man reacts differently to your pregnancy, from initial surprise and joy to unwavering support during labor, reflecting their unique personalities and love for you.

Characters: Logan Howlett, Remy LeBeau, Scott Summers, Ororo Munroe, Kurt Wagner, Colossus (+ my personal addition : Erik Lehnsherr, Wade Wilson, Wanda Maximoff & Pietro Maximoff)

Thank you for saying that, hearing that my work is liked makes me really happy, thank you ♡ And it's not a trouble at all — love the prompt! — Love, Marie, your friendly marvel fangirl

Logan Howlett (Wolverine)

When you tell Logan you’re pregnant, his initial reaction is a mix of shock and silence. For a moment, he’s frozen in place, his gruff exterior cracking just enough to reveal how truly taken aback he is by the news. He’s been through so much, lost so many people, and had so many regrets in his life that the thought of bringing a child into this world overwhelms him. But after a long, quiet moment, his eyes soften, and he gently places a hand on your stomach, the roughness of his calloused palm contrasting with the tenderness in his gesture. His voice, usually gruff and low, is quiet when he says, "I’ll protect both of ya… no matter what."

During your pregnancy, Logan becomes fiercely protective. He’s always been the protective type, but now it’s ramped up to an entirely different level. He doesn’t let you do anything that might risk your health or the baby’s, even if it’s something small like lifting a grocery bag. He makes sure you’re comfortable, constantly checking in with you—though he tries to act like he’s not worried. You often catch him watching you, eyes filled with a mix of awe and uncertainty. He tries not to hover, but you can see how much he cares. The moment you’re uncomfortable, he’s there, ready to do anything to help. His biggest fear, though he never outright says it, is that something will happen to you or the baby, so he keeps an almost obsessive eye on both of your well-being.

When labor begins, Logan is a mess of emotions. He’s usually the calm in any storm, but seeing you in pain makes him feel helpless in a way he’s not used to. He holds your hand, trying to keep you calm, though his own heart races. "I’m here, darlin’. You’re strong. You got this," he murmurs, pressing kisses to your forehead, staying close, trying to mask his own panic. When the baby finally comes, and he hears that first cry, tears fill his eyes. He never thought he could experience something so beautiful and terrifying at the same time. Logan would quietly hold the baby, marveling at the tiny life you both created, knowing he’s going to protect this child with everything he has.

Remy LeBeau (Gambit)

Telling Remy you’re pregnant is like lighting a firework. He’s always been a charmer, quick with a grin and a flirtatious quip, but when the news sinks in, his eyes light up with uncontainable excitement. "Mon dieu… I gon’ be a papa?" he says in disbelief, his signature grin widening as he pulls you into his arms. His hands immediately find your stomach, even if there’s no sign of the baby yet, and he plants a loving kiss on your lips. Remy is the kind of man who loves with his whole heart, and now, the idea of a family with you makes him feel like the luckiest man alive.

Throughout the pregnancy, Remy is absolutely doting. He spoils you beyond belief, making sure you have everything you need. He constantly brings you little gifts—flowers, chocolates, or even things for the baby—and he can’t help but talk to your belly every chance he gets, whispering sweet nothings in French. "Cher bébé, you gon’ have de best life wit’ us," he coos. He’s also incredibly playful, making jokes to keep your spirits high during the more uncomfortable parts of the pregnancy. If you’re feeling tired or sick, he’s quick to comfort you, but he does it with his usual playful charm. "You look beautiful, ma chérie, even wit’ a lil’ bump," he teases, kissing your cheek. Remy’s energy makes the whole experience feel lighter, more fun, and less daunting.

During labor, Remy’s usual calm and collected demeanor falters. He’s still his charming self, but there’s a frantic edge to his words as he holds your hand. "You okay, chérie? I’m right here wit’ you," he reassures, though you can see the worry in his eyes. He’s not used to seeing you in pain, and it shakes him more than he thought it would. As the labor progresses, he stays by your side, whispering sweet encouragements in French and English, never letting go of your hand. When the baby finally arrives, he’s completely overwhelmed, tears of joy running down his face as he holds your child for the first time. "Our lil’ miracle," he says softly, his heart full to bursting with love for both you and the baby.

Scott Summers (Cyclops)

When you tell Scott you’re pregnant, he’s stunned, standing still for a long moment as he processes the news. Scott, being the logical and responsible leader he is, has always thought about the future and the possibility of a family, but hearing it from you makes it real in a way that both excites and terrifies him. "We’re… we’re going to be parents?" he asks, his voice soft with disbelief before his arms wrap around you tightly. You can see the joy in his face, mixed with the weight of responsibility that’s already setting in. He’s already planning everything in his mind—how he’ll protect you, the future he’ll build for the three of you, ensuring that you and the baby are always safe.

Throughout your pregnancy, Scott is incredibly attentive and thoughtful. He’s the type to read all the parenting books, meticulously prepare for every scenario, and ensure that you’re comfortable and healthy at all times. He schedules every doctor’s appointment, makes sure you’re eating well, and insists that you take things easy. He’s also incredibly emotional during this time, though he tries to hide it. You often catch him looking at you with a softness in his eyes, one hand resting protectively on your stomach. "I love you so much," he says out of the blue one night, his voice filled with quiet awe. Scott takes everything seriously, and your pregnancy is no exception—he’s already planning how to be the best father he can be.

When the day of labor arrives, Scott is calm and composed, but you can feel the tension rolling off him in waves. He’s a natural leader, but this is out of his control, and it scares him more than he’ll admit. He holds your hand the entire time, murmuring words of encouragement, but there’s a tightness in his voice that betrays his worry. "You’re doing great, we’re almost there," he says, though you can tell he’s just as nervous as you are. When the baby is born, Scott is overcome with emotion. He’s usually so controlled, but in this moment, tears stream down his face as he holds your newborn in his arms. "We did it," he whispers, looking between you and the baby with a sense of awe and love so profound it leaves him speechless.

Ororo Munroe (Storm)

When you tell Ororo you’re pregnant, her reaction is calm yet filled with quiet joy. She has always been a steady presence, and that doesn’t change even in a moment as life-altering as this. You watch as her eyes widen slightly, and she takes a deep breath, letting it out with a smile that’s filled with nothing but love. "A child," she says softly, as if testing the words out on her lips before she steps closer, pulling you into a tender embrace. She kisses your forehead, her fingers gently brushing your stomach. "We will raise them together with the strength of the earth, the wind, and the skies," she whispers, her voice filled with a quiet reverence for this new journey you’re about to embark on together.

During the pregnancy, Ororo is a pillar of strength and grace. She watches over you with care, making sure you feel supported and at peace throughout. Her connection to nature allows her to sense even the smallest changes in your well-being, and she’s quick to help ease any discomfort you feel. She spends hours talking to your growing belly, whispering stories of the world, of the sky, and the beauty of the elements. Her presence is soothing, and she brings you peace in moments where the discomforts of pregnancy are hardest to bear. At night, she holds you close, her hands resting protectively on your stomach, often saying a quiet prayer to the earth for your safety. "You and our child are my heart," she says softly one evening as you drift off to sleep, her love for you as powerful as the storms she commands.

When the time comes for labor, Ororo is a calming force by your side. Even as the pain begins, she stays with you, her hand in yours, reminding you to breathe, to focus on the world around you. "Feel the wind, my love, let it guide you," she murmurs, her voice steady as she helps you through each contraction. You find yourself drawing strength from her presence, her deep connection to the elements grounding you. When the baby finally arrives, she cradles the tiny life in her arms with such tenderness that it brings tears to your eyes. "Welcome to the world, little one," she whispers, her eyes filled with awe and love. Ororo knows this is a moment of great power, not just in the birth of your child, but in the creation of a family bound by love and strength.

Kurt Wagner (Nightcrawler)

When you tell Kurt you’re pregnant, his first reaction is pure, unfiltered joy. His golden eyes light up, and in an instant, he’s pulling you into a tight embrace, his tail curling around you protectively. "Mein Gott! You are serious, ja?" he asks, his excitement palpable. When you nod, he lets out a delighted laugh, teleporting you both into the air for a brief moment in his excitement before bringing you back down gently. He cups your face in his hands, pressing kisses all over your cheeks and lips, his happiness absolutely infectious. "I am going to be a papa?!" he repeats, as if he can’t quite believe it, but the pure joy on his face shows that he couldn’t be happier. He immediately begins to talk about your future together, about how he’ll be the best father, about how lucky the child will be to have you as their mother.

Throughout your pregnancy, Kurt is an absolute ball of energy and love. He’s always fussing over you, making sure you’re comfortable, making sure you’re happy, and doing everything he can to make you smile. He talks to your belly constantly, telling your baby stories of his own childhood, sharing his love for adventure and his deep faith. "You will be loved, little one. So very loved," he whispers often, his tail lightly wrapping around you as he presses his head to your stomach. Despite his own rough upbringing, Kurt is determined to make sure your child is raised with nothing but love and joy. He’s so excited for every little milestone, constantly asking how you’re feeling, and making sure that you never feel alone or overwhelmed. He even starts knitting baby clothes in his spare time, determined to create something personal for your child.

When labor begins, Kurt is nervous but tries his best to stay calm for your sake. He teleports in and out of the room, fetching things, bringing you water, doing anything he can to help. "You are so strong, meine liebe, you’ve got this," he says, though you can see the nervous energy in him as he paces slightly. When things get intense, he stays by your side, holding your hand tightly, his usual calm demeanor replaced with pure awe at what’s happening. The moment the baby is born, Kurt is overwhelmed with emotion. Tears fill his golden eyes as he looks at the tiny life you’ve created together. "Our little miracle," he whispers in awe, his tail brushing gently against the baby’s tiny hand as he cradles them carefully. His heart is full, knowing that this is the start of a new, beautiful chapter for your family.

Piotr Rasputin (Colossus)

When you tell Piotr you’re pregnant, his first reaction is one of quiet shock. His gentle nature has always been a core part of who he is, but the idea of becoming a father leaves him momentarily speechless. He stares at you for a moment, as if processing the magnitude of what you just said. Then, slowly, a smile breaks across his face, and his massive arms gently pull you into a warm, protective embrace. "We are going to have a child?" he asks, his voice soft and filled with wonder. His metal form, cold to the touch, somehow feels comforting as he holds you close, his hands resting gently on your stomach. "I… I will do everything to protect you and our child," he promises, his deep voice filled with determination and love.

Throughout your pregnancy, Piotr becomes an even more protective and attentive partner. He’s already used to being careful with his strength around you, but now he’s even more cautious, always making sure you’re comfortable and safe. He spends hours drawing and painting, creating art that reflects the love and joy he feels for you and the baby. His gentle nature shines through as he constantly checks in with you, making sure you’re well-rested, eating enough, and not doing anything that could put strain on you or the baby. "You should rest, moya lyubov’," he says softly, offering you a cup of tea or a warm blanket whenever you look the least bit uncomfortable. He talks about the future often, about how he wants to raise the child with the same love and care his family gave him, how he wants to teach them to be strong but gentle, like him.

When labor begins, Piotr is a bundle of nerves beneath his calm exterior. His metal form shifts, and you can see the tension in his usually composed demeanor. He stays by your side, holding your hand gently, though you can tell he’s trying not to show just how worried he is. "I am here, love, you are so strong," he says softly, his voice a low rumble as he reassures you throughout the process. As the labor progresses, he’s there every step of the way, doing whatever he can to help. When the baby is finally born, Piotr is overwhelmed with emotion. He carefully cradles the tiny life in his large, metal arms, his eyes shining with tears as he looks at you with pure love. "Our family," he whispers, his deep voice filled with awe and devotion. "You have given me everything."

Erik Lehnsherr (Magneto)

When you tell Erik you’re pregnant, his initial reaction is one of deep, contemplative silence. You watch as the weight of the news settles over him like a heavy cloak, and for a brief moment, there’s an unreadable look in his sharp eyes. He’s always been a man burdened by the past, his life filled with loss and pain. But then, his expression softens, and he reaches out to touch your face, his fingers trembling ever so slightly. "A child," he murmurs, almost as if he’s afraid to believe it. Slowly, a smile tugs at the corners of his lips, and he pulls you into a tight embrace, burying his face in your hair. "We will give them the world," he promises, his voice low and filled with the intensity that only Erik can bring. Though you can tell the news has stirred up memories of his past, the joy he feels for this future with you is undeniable.

During the pregnancy, Erik becomes fiercely protective, bordering on overbearing at times. He’s always been a man who values control, and now that you’re carrying his child, that instinct is heightened tenfold. He monitors everything, making sure you’re safe, making sure you’re comfortable, and making sure nothing threatens you or the baby. His magnetic abilities become almost a subconscious part of how he protects you, moving objects out of your way before you even realize they’re there, adjusting the temperature of the room without a second thought. Despite his intensity, there’s a tenderness in the way he speaks to your belly, as though he’s already trying to form a connection with your unborn child. "You will be strong," he says one evening, his hand resting on your stomach. "I will make sure of it."

When labor begins, Erik is calm but incredibly focused. He’s been through many battles in his life, but this is something different—a battle of a more personal kind. He stays by your side, his hand gripping yours tightly, though you can see the tension in his jaw as he tries to remain composed. "You can do this, my love," he says, his voice steady despite the worry in his eyes. As the contractions grow stronger, he channels his abilities to make the environment as soothing as possible, dimming the lights, adjusting the metal fixtures in the room to make everything feel more comfortable for you. When the baby is finally born, Erik is silent for a long moment, staring at the tiny life you’ve both created. Then, without a word, he takes the child in his arms, his eyes filled with a rare vulnerability as he gazes down at them. "I never thought I would have this again," he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. "Thank you."

Wade Wilson (Deadpool)

When you tell Wade you’re pregnant, his reaction is, unsurprisingly, over the top. He stares at you with wide eyes, his mouth hanging open comically for a moment before he suddenly breaks into a huge grin. "Are you serious?!" he shouts, throwing his arms in the air and spinning around in excitement. He grabs you and starts bouncing you up and down, all the while chattering on about how you’re going to have the coolest kid in the world. "Oh man, this is going to be awesome! Our little baby Wadelette, or Wadelino!" His excitement is infectious, and though his humor never stops, you can tell there’s genuine love and excitement behind his wild antics. He talks about everything from baby names to what kind of mini-costume the kid will wear, all while being completely and utterly himself.

During the pregnancy, Wade is a chaotic but devoted partner. He’s constantly hovering, making ridiculous jokes to keep your spirits up, and finding the weirdest ways to pamper you. "You’re eating for two now! Gotta keep that belly happy!" he’d say, handing you a tray of the strangest food combinations you’ve ever seen. Wade has a way of making even the most uncomfortable moments of pregnancy into something funny, but when the serious moments hit, he’s surprisingly thoughtful. He talks to your belly in exaggerated voices, telling the baby stories of his adventures and promising to be the best (and weirdest) dad ever. Though he can’t quite stop being himself, you know that beneath all the humor, Wade is completely committed to you and the baby.

When labor hits, Wade is... well, Wade. He’s running around like a madman, alternately panicking and cracking jokes to try and keep things light. "Okay, okay, I’ve got this! I’ve fought ninjas, I’ve blown up buildings, how hard can this be?!" he says, though the genuine concern in his eyes gives him away. As things progress, he becomes a little more serious, holding your hand and whispering words of encouragement between his nervous ramblings. When the baby is finally born, Wade is struck speechless for once in his life. He stares down at the tiny bundle in awe, his usual mask of humor slipping as he gently takes the baby in his arms. "Holy crap," he whispers, his voice barely above a breath. "We made a tiny person." He looks at you with wide eyes, his usual bravado replaced with pure, unfiltered love.

Wanda Maximoff (Scarlet Witch)

When you tell Wanda you’re pregnant, her initial reaction is one of quiet, overwhelmed emotion. You watch as her eyes fill with tears, her hands trembling as she reaches out to touch your face. "A baby?" she whispers, her voice filled with disbelief. For Wanda, this news is a dream she never thought possible, a hope she had long since buried beneath the weight of her complicated life. She pulls you into a gentle embrace, holding you close as she tries to process the enormity of what this means for the both of you. Her powers flicker around her, responding to her heightened emotions, but she calms herself quickly, pressing her forehead to yours. "I never thought I would have this chance," she says softly. "But now… now we can have a family."

Throughout the pregnancy, Wanda is a bundle of emotions—both excitement and worry. She’s incredibly protective, her powers always at the ready to keep you and the baby safe, but there’s an underlying fear that something could go wrong. Despite her concerns, she embraces the experience fully, surrounding you with warmth and love. She spends hours researching everything about pregnancy, reading books, and using her magic to ensure you and the baby are healthy. She talks to your belly every night, using her magic to create little illusions of what she imagines your child might look like. "You will be so loved," she whispers to your stomach, her hands gently resting over the growing life inside you. Despite the fears that linger in the back of her mind, Wanda finds joy in the journey, grateful for the chance to experience this with you.

When labor begins, Wanda is nervous but focused. She holds your hand, her magic swirling around the room in gentle pulses, trying to ease your pain and keep you calm. "You’re so strong," she says, her voice soft but full of conviction. "I’m here with you." As the contractions intensify, Wanda uses her powers to help as much as she can without interfering too much, guiding you through the pain with a steady hand and reassuring words. When the baby is finally born, Wanda is overwhelmed with emotion. She cradles the newborn in her arms, tears streaming down her face as she gazes at the life you’ve created together. "Our child," she whispers, her voice filled with awe. "I can’t believe it… they’re perfect."

Pietro Maximoff (Quicksilver)

When you tell Pietro you’re pregnant, his reaction is fast—literally. He zooms around the room at breakneck speed, his excitement palpable as he tries to process the news. "Wait, wait, wait—seriously? I’m going to be a dad?!" he exclaims, coming to a sudden stop in front of you with wide eyes and a grin that stretches from ear to ear. He’s so thrilled that he can barely stand still, constantly moving from one side of the room to the other, muttering excitedly to himself about baby names, future races, and all the things he’ll teach your child. "They’re gonna be fast, I just know it!" he says, already imagining a little speedster following in his footsteps. His excitement is contagious, and though he can be overwhelming at times, you know that Pietro’s joy is genuine and heartfelt.

During the pregnancy, Pietro is both attentive and hilariously impatient. He’s constantly zipping around, checking on you, fetching things, and making sure you’re comfortable. "You need anything? Water? Snacks? Foot rub?" he asks at lightning speed, already halfway out the door before you can answer. His energy is boundless, and though it can be a bit much at times, you appreciate how much he cares. Pietro is always talking to your belly, encouraging the baby to hurry up and grow faster. "Come on, little one, we’re all waiting for you!" he says with a grin, pressing a kiss to your stomach. Despite his impatience, Pietro is incredibly sweet, and he does everything he can to make sure you feel loved and supported throughout the entire process.

When labor begins, Pietro is a whirlwind of nervous energy. He’s constantly pacing, moving from one side of the room to the other, his speed betraying his anxiety. "You’re doing great, babe, really great!" he says, though his voice is tinged with nervousness. He tries to stay calm for your sake, but you can tell he’s on edge, desperate for everything to go smoothly. When the baby is finally born, Pietro’s world comes to a complete standstill for the first time in his life. The moment they place the baby in his arms, everything around him slows, and for once, he’s not in a rush to go anywhere. He stares down at your newborn child, his usual cocky smirk replaced with a look of pure awe and disbelief. "Wow," he whispers, his voice soft and reverent. "I… we made this." His hands, usually moving a mile a minute, are gentle as he cradles the baby close, eyes wide with wonder as he examines every little detail of their face.

[sixpennydame]

Captain Levi had never planned to fall in love with you, the pregnant widow of a Survey Corps member.

Your husband wasn’t part of his squad, but he’d seen him fall, just seconds too late from being able to save him. He’d found a letter to you in his pocket and delivered it to you in person; it was the least he could do, he thought. You were gracious and thankful to have this last message from your sweetheart but Levi saw the depth of sadness in your eyes, and something else simmering just below the surface.

“I’m pregnant,” you confess. “Three months.”

“Do you have family to go back to?” he asked.

“I have no one.”

And that’s how Levi found himself visiting your house whenever he came into Trost. It was late fall, so the Corps was on hold from any expeditions, and after he picked up his usual cleaning supplies, he’d find himself picking up some things for you and bringing it by.

“There’s some tea there that is supposed to be good for morning sickness,” he says as he hands you a bag of groceries, “and some of my officer’s rations of red meat. I heard that’s good for a growing baby.”

“You’re too kind, Captain. You don’t have to do all this for me.”

You were right, he didn’t, but he couldn’t help worrying about you, a soon-to-be mother, raising a child on her own.

A month turned into two, then three, your belly growing rounder, your features becoming even softer. There was a glow about you he couldn’t describe, almost angelic.

His monthly visits had become weekly; you would cook him dinner and he’d stay until the fire in the hearth was embers, and your eyelids became heavy.

But this time, as he stood up to leave, you took his arm.

“Captain…could you stay? Just for tonight.”

He knows he shouldn’t. You’re still grieving and probably just lonely. But he can’t deny the pull you have on him. You’re beautiful and kind-hearted, witty and spirited. His thoughts drift toward you so naturally now, wondering how you’re feeling, if you need anything.

If you need him.

And so he follows you to the bedroom and lays on the bed beside you, making sure to stay on his side and give you the space you need. You toss from side to side, finally lying on your back.

“The baby’s too active tonight. I feel like I’m a human punching bag,” you sigh out, then you roll over to look at Levi.

“Do you want to feel it?”

You gently take his hand and place it on your belly. For a while, he feels nothing but the pounding of his own heart, touching you in what feels to him to be so intimate.

But then there’s a little bump under his hand. Then another.

Levi’s experienced many things in his life, but never has anything brought him so much awe than those two little movements.

He spent that night with his hand on your stomach as you drifted to sleep, and decided right then and there that he would do whatever it took to keep you and that little one safe, healthy, and happy.

[satellite-evans]

Benedict Bridgerton with pregnant wife reader. With "Oh honey, come here!" and"One more kiss, please!". Fluff and maybe a little spicey👀 Thanks!! :))

One more kiss

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x reader

Summary: Benedict can't keep his hands ( or his mouth ) to himself :)

Word count: 1.1k

Warnings: fluff, kissing, teasing

A/N:

English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, recommendations, vents or questions are always welcome. I love talking to you guys about anything <3

Happy reading xxx

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.

The air in the room seemed to hum, not with silence but with the fullness of life. You were a vessel of creation, the curve of your belly like the swelling of the moon—round, heavy, radiant in its own right. But like the moon pulling the tides, your body pulled at you, each movement a slow dance between discomfort and love.

Your hand rested instinctively over the swell of your abdomen, fingers tracing patterns over the stretched skin, a gentle reminder that life pulsed within you, even as you grew weary under its weight. You had crossed the line from glowing to aching, from grace to a slower, heavier presence. Every breath you took felt deeper, fuller, and yet… your patience was stretched as thin as the fabric that clung to your body.

Benedict had been watching you for some time now, his gaze heavy with the kind of awe that made you both feel powerful and vulnerable all at once. He stood by the door, taking in the sight of you—the woman he adored, carrying the child you had made together. And though you felt cumbersome, ungainly, he seemed to see only beauty, a force of nature incarnate.

The tension in his stare hadn’t gone unnoticed. It had been growing for weeks, ever since your belly had become unmistakable proof of his devotion to you, of his claim over you. He was never far from you now—his hands always reaching, always craving. It was as though the sight of you so full, so pregnant with his child, ignited something primal in him.

"Oh honey, come here," Benedict’s voice broke through your thoughts, low and filled with that familiar hunger. It wasn’t a question—it was a plea. His eyes were dark, focused, as if the weight of his desire was something he could barely contain.

You narrowed your eyes slightly, lips twitching into the faintest smile. You knew this game by now. Ever since you’d started showing, Benedict had been… insatiable. It was as though seeing you pregnant with his child sparked something primal in him. His touch had become needier, his kisses hungrier. And while you adored his attention—most of the time—there were moments, like now, when the exhaustion outweighed your desire to entertain him.

“Benedict,” you sighed, shifting slightly in your seat, trying in vain to ease the pressure in your lower back. “I can’t… I can’t move right now. This baby feels like a boulder.”

He didn’t miss a beat, crossing the room with swift determination. “Then I’ll come to you.” There was a soft chuckle beneath his words, but the look in his eyes was nothing short of feral as he knelt in front of you. His hands, warm and slightly calloused, slid up your thighs with an almost worshipful care, his thumbs brushing circles over the fabric of your dress.

Your body responded in spite of itself, a shiver running down your spine. Despite your weariness, there was something about the way he looked at you—as though he was starved for you—that made it hard to stay indifferent.

"Look at you," he murmured, his voice thick with awe. His hands moved to cradle your belly, his fingers spreading wide across the expanse of your rounded abdomen. "You’re… God, you’re perfect."

“Perfect?” you huffed, shifting again in your seat. “I feel like a whale.”

Benedict's eyes flickered up to meet yours, the corner of his mouth tugging into a roguish grin. “A beautiful, glowing goddess, then. One that happens to be carrying my child." There was a possessiveness in his tone, but not in the way that felt suffocating. It was full of adoration, of reverence. He was proud of you—proud of what your body was doing, what the two of you had created together.

He leaned in, pressing his lips to your belly, and you could feel the warmth of his breath through the thin fabric of your dress. It sent a ripple of warmth through you, despite your fatigue. His hand traced slow, deliberate circles over your skin, his touch reverent and loving, but the heat in his gaze was unmistakable.

“Benedict,” you warned, but there was no real bite to it. You were tired, yes, but the way he touched you, the way he looked at you—it stirred something deep inside, something that made it hard to resist him entirely.

“Just one kiss,” he whispered, his voice deep and rough, filled with a need that made your skin prickle. He pressed another kiss to your belly, then moved upward, trailing his lips along your skin, over the curve of your breast, up to your neck. “One more kiss. Please.”

You let out a soft groan, both from the ache in your back and the ache building between your legs. “Benedict, I’m exhausted.”

He smiled against your skin, his lips brushing the sensitive spot just beneath your ear. “I know, darling. I know. But I can’t help it. I need you.” His hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you down toward him, his eyes pleading, full of unspoken desire. “Please,” he murmured, his voice softer now, desperate. “Oh honey, come here.”

Despite yourself, despite the weariness in your bones, you leaned in, letting your lips meet his. The kiss was slow at first, but it deepened quickly, as though he couldn’t hold himself back any longer. His mouth moved against yours with the same hunger you’d felt simmering beneath the surface for weeks.

You moaned softly, feeling his hands slipping beneath the fabric of your dress, caressing your skin with an urgency that made your heart race. His touch was firm, but careful, mindful of the life you carried, yet undeniably full of desire.

"Benedict," you murmured against his lips, half-heartedly trying to pull away. "I’m… tired."

He groaned softly, his forehead pressing against yours as he took a breath, his fingers still gently stroking your belly. “I know. I’ll be gentle. Just... stay with me for a little longer.” His voice was thick with emotion, his eyes full of longing. “Please. I need to feel you, love. Just one more kiss.”

You sighed, shaking your head slightly but couldn’t help the smile that crept onto your face. "You're insatiable, Benedict."

He chuckled softly, pressing his lips to yours again, this time slower, softer, but no less passionate. “Only for you,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. “Only ever for you.”

And as his hands continued to caress you, as his kisses deepened, you let yourself melt into him, letting the exhaustion fall away, if only for a little while. Because even though you were tired, there was something about the way he touched you—like you were the center of his world—that made you feel alive, loved, cherished. And in that moment, you gave yourself over to him, one more time.

“Fine,” you whispered against his lips. “But just… one more.”

[izvmimi]

“You’ve aged, Morax.”

Zhongli bristles at your words, or perhaps his old name, for a moment, if only a small imperceptible increased tensing to his already stony posture, and you correct yourself.

“I should say Zhongli. I’m sorry.”

You can’t tell if he’s upset now for a few more moments, and something in your belly stirs in apprehension, but he laughs at your poor attempt for a joke, then relaxes his posture finally; you let out a careful sigh and sink to the ground, pulling your knees closer to your chest as you sit, thankful for the slit in your Liyue-issue silk, a welcome change from the ankara cotton you’re used to.

“You don’t look old,” you add for good measure, and he turns to you and smiles.

“I disagree,” he pauses, ruminating over six thousand years in a mere matter of moments. “Admittedly, I would love for it to show more… I do appreciate the ability of humans to grow old, even if they eventually return to dust.”

He shifts his weight from one foot to another, arms uncrossing so that his hands rest in loosely held fists behind his back.

“Gods and humans alike, even if we often claim to share so little with humans.”

A cool breeze cuts through suddenly, blowing in the foot wide space between the two of you as you stand together in the Guili Plains. The mention of dust has you bristling this time in turn, without the stoicism of your companion to carefully mask it. 

Thousands of years ago, his friend died here, dissipating as the finest of dust particles, carried away by the wind. Years pass, and time may heal all wounds, but untreated wounds also fester painfully.

You will never understand what it meant to share in that sort of communion. Not with him. Your understanding of Morax, Rex Lapis, Zhongli is different, having met while pleading for amnesty from as many gods as possible throughout Teyvat in order to protect your people. Morax had appeared surprised by how far you traveled, and how bold (perhaps stupid) you were to request a truce but had chosen to understand your desperation, he’d seen enough of it before, and when tragedy tore through every land, he hadn’t forgotten his promise. Morax then had promised to protect you, offering more than a simple request for nonviolence, and you remained thankful for it, your lands in Natlan untouched with a strong ally, and your friendship had begun ever since, through letters and long-spaced visits.

There’s a clear gradient of power between you that has slowly eroded with friendly affection over time, but at this point, you visit and spend time with each other, but you are not sure where you stand.

Perhaps never as ideological equals, not like the members of the Guili Assembly.

And yet, you appreciate the time spent with him right now. 

Zhongli finally takes a seat as well among the grasses, close to you. The glaze lilies still sway with the wind, their buds closed shut in the sunlight, preferring to bloom under moonlight and shadow. Humble without lacking beauty or the ability to inspire awe.

Like Guizhong. Like Zhongli. 

“Thank you for coming to see me,” he offers.

You don’t turn to look at him immediately because your heart is warmed more than what is imparted by Liyue’s setting sun shining upon you. From your vantage point are acres of sloping hills of green, orange and gold, elegant rock formations bordering graceful seas, and refined architecture. 

The people are kind and welcoming, happy much like your own.

“Thank you for having me again after all these years. Liyue is beautiful,” you praise, and you mean it. You turn to him, grinning. 

“Your people are lively; the lands are prosperous. They should be happy to have you as their god.”

Zhongli chuckles to himself. 

“I think they thrive despite me, and I’m very thankful for it.”

You tilt your head at him to mock his humility, but his smile disarms you. Still, you insist:

“Even if you give up your Gnosis, you’re still you.”

Zhongli turns his body towards you - your hands graze past each other and you quickly pull back, hoping he cannot tell that your heart has skipped a beat. 

You are a minor - rather, lesser - god, and you should be thankful you are even friends, that he is willing to entertain you despite all this time. 

Do not ask for more, you remind yourself again.

“And what am I exactly?”

His eyebrow is raised and there’s a sparkle of mischief in the way he looks at you.

“Zhongli, not Morax. Not one of the Seven, but a consultant of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor.”

“Exactly.”

Zhongli rises again and reaches out a gloved hand for you to help you up. You take it, patting grass off of your dress, realizing he hasn’t let go even though you are both standing.

He doesn’t let go even as he takes the first step and you wonder if he’s forgotten himself. 

“The Yun-Han Opera Troupe is performing tonight. We should hurry back so you can see what else Liyue has to offer.”

He pauses, still holding your hand as you keep up, then smiles at you.

“I hope I can keep you just as enamored…” 

There’s a deliberate pause as if he is distracted, and he clears his throat quickly then continues, “... with this beautiful place during this visit.”

“Of course,” you reply, nodding quickly, following his lead.

And your heart skips a beat, and you wonder if he knows.

But just this, being together with him despite the millenia, is enough - after all, you are the goddess of compromise and second chances.

[averagewriter-inthedark]

Symphony 🎻 | Rhaenyra Targaryen Headcanon

GOT/HOTD Masterlist

note: I wrote this because I want to be part of Rhaenyra's symphony 😩😉

Rhaenyra falling in love with a musician would look like:

The first time the Crown Princess laid on eyes on you was during her name day celebration. The king had called upon the finest performers, artists, dancers, and jesters in Westeros for the eighteenth birthday of the Kingdom's heir. You were part of a traveling music group, where you played the violin and were the lead vocalist. 

Immediately drawn to your captivating presence, Rhaenyra barely paid attention to the others in your group, and when the rest of the performers were brought on stage, her thoughts lingered with you and zoned out the rest of the celebration. Searching the grounds the moment the final performance ended to try and get another glimpse of you. When she finally did, Rhaenyra swore she'd never seen anything as beautiful as you before in her life. 

"Princess!" You abruptly stood from your chair upon realization the young lady was behind you, too emersed in the conversation with your friends until one of them cleared their throat with wide eyes and pointed over your shoulder. "My apologies I did not realize you were there." "Please, do not apologies, I should've announced myself. I was wondering if you'd be interested in talking a walk with me. I'd like to hear more about your music and travels of the country."

For an hour you strolled through the area reserved for the performers and vendors. Tents and stands on every corner. At one point you stopped to see the small animal enclosure with baby goats and cows. Rhaenyra learned you were from the Riverlands, and your family were nomadic. Traveling all over Westeros, from Dorne to Winterfell, at the request of lords and ladies to perform. The most recent journey before coming to King's Landing was High Garden to celebrate the knighthood of Lord Tyrell's son.

There was an evident spark between you two. You felt it. Rhaenyra felt it. The warmth in your chest spread each time you made eye contact, her cheeks flushed when you complimented her. She hung onto every word you spoke, and in return you observed her body language. When someone interrupted, there was visible annoyance where she pretty much pleaded with whoever to leave with her eyes, and dismissed them with a, "Yes of course, tell my father I'll only be a moment."

When the celebration came to an end and it was time for the dinner, the princess asked you to join her table. Of course you were surprised, and a little nervous, "My Princess, my thanks to you for the generous off, but I fear that would be inappropriate. I am employed by your father, not a guest." "Nonsense, you are my guest. I've said it--and it is my name day after all so it shall be upheld. Join me so we can continue our conversation." How could you say no after that?

When the day rolled to the next, you and your group were set to leave after breaking your fast, but as you loaded the carriage a guard rushed with a note and informed you the Princess had requested your group to remain in King's Landing and be the permanent performers for when the Royal family hosted banquets, balls, and tourneys with the promise of payment, lodging, and all the benefits employees of the Red Keep get. 

Yeah, you all accepted that without a second thought. 

To say you didn't miss traveling would be a lie, but you enjoyed living in the Red Keep. You were given food, clothes, money, and a section of the lower levels for your friends to live. The Princess called on you regularly, to play your violin or sing ballads while she either admired you from beside or read her books. Soon you two fell into a routine. Progressing as the weeks go by to moments where you broke fast together, strolled the gardens, accompanied her on trips around the kingdoms. 

Each time you performed, Rhaenyra sat as close as she could to the stage. Staring in awe as your fingers and bow moved graciously across the violin, your beautiful voice so enchanting it'd make the Seven fall in love, echoing against the walls. Eyes full of love, finding each other's with smiles painting your face. 

Unfortunately a union between you would never be approved. Not by the court, the country, or her father--no matter how happy you made Rhaenyra. She was the Crown Princess, the heir to the Iron Throne. It was expected of her to marry a nobleman, bear children, and take her place as Queen. You'd have to remain in the shadows. A secret to the people.

Of course, rumors spread of the tales between the Princess and her close companion. Most of them diminished upon Rhaenyra's marriage to Ser Laenor---which the three of you had come to an agreement that the two would uphold their image to the Court, but in secret Rhaenyra's heart laid with you--but even then, whispers echoed the halls.

She's sneak to your quarters in the middle of the night to hear you play when she had trouble sleeping. You gifted her favorite sweets whenever you went into the city. When she felt the threat of the Greens growing as her father's conditioned worsened, you joined Rhaenyra at Dragonstone. By then your musical group had decided to part ways, many stating they wanted to return to their homes and raise their families.  

Over the course of your relationship with Rhaenyra, you wrote many songs of her and your life together. She'd become your muse, the inspiration for your works. Sometimes you'd sing them for an audience, but there few reserved only for her ears. 

So when the decades passed and you two were lost to the Dance of Dragons, the songs of Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen and her violinist lived on. Passing from generation to generation like the songs of the Conqueror and eventually Jenny of Oldstones. People live and die, but music is immortal. And you had immortalized the beauty and love of Rhaenyra through your art. Making her part of a symphony. 

[madhatterbri]

Opportunity | D.P.

Summary: Reader and Damian are friends and are basically in love, but they don't know it. Damian sees Reader getting harassed by an ex or a fan or whatever and tries to defuse the situation, but ends up beating the guy up lol smut and confessions of love follow soon after?

Author's Note: Happy Monday Night RAW, babes. 🫶

Damian Priest Masterlist

Requested by @eringobragh420

Taglist: @theworldofotps @mrsarcherofinfamy @brideofinfamy @miss-kuki-nz @terrortwinunicorn @magicalbuttertarts @new-zealand-chic @smallestsnarkestgirl

"I don't know, man. We just always have something going on and never seem to take us to the next step," Damian sighed. He was out drinking with some friends. It was true. Now that he and Y/N were single, he thought they would finally take their friendship to the next level. She seemed scared when he asked her about it. The wrestler never dreamed about the reasoning behind her rejecting him.

The archer of infamy was worried when she didn't answer his calls. He could count all the times she didn't answer on one hand. Y/N had told him days ago that she was still dealing with the mess. Once she didn't answer his text or call again, he went outside.

Y/N backed into her car. Her ex stood in front of her. His arms on both sides of her trapped her between himself and the car. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she looked away. The smell of alcohol lingered on his breath. He wouldn't leave her alone. She thought of Damian. Her beacon of light in a world full of darkness.

"You're never going to get rid of me," he threatened. "I will always be watching you,"

Her ex-boyfriend was suddenly pulled off of her. She watched in awe as her best friend, Damian, beat the crap out of him. When her ex started to lose consciousness, Y/N pulled him off of her. The angered man rubbed his black hair.

"How long has he been harassing you, huh? Why didn't you tell me?" He demanded. His heart broke when he saw her shrink back. The look of hurt and betrayal in her eyes burned in his skull. Damian took a deep breath and apologized.

"I'm sorry. Let me take you to my place. We will get your car in the morning,"

The drive was painfully quiet. Silent tears rolled down her cheeks. She was embarrassed. Y/N never wanted him to know what he did to her. She didn't want anyone to know.

When they made it back to his place, he comforted her. They talked about what was really going on in the past few months. The guy was a major asshole. One that she should have never linked up with.

"I just didn't want to feel alone," she admitted.

Damian placed a hand on hers. His thumb rubbed her soft skin. "You had me. You know I would never do anything like that to you,"

"I don't want to lose you, D. What if we don't work? I can't lose you," Y/N confessed. A fresh set of tears rolled down her cheeks. He wiped them away and pulled her close.

"Don't think of it like that. I love you, Y/N. I don't ever want to lose you either,"

"I love you too," she admitted. Her voice cracked.

The rest of the night was spent talking. She started to feel better and apologized for keeping it from him. By the time they went to bed, she had a permanent smile on her face. They confessed they loved each other. Something she thought would never happen.

Y/N woke up bright and early the next morning. She started to make them breakfast in the kitchen. He must have smelled the food because he appeared behind her a few minutes later. She still wore one of his shirts that he lent her.

"Wow, a beautiful girl making me breakfast? How did I get so lucky?"

She smiled and turned around. "Just a thank you for last night. You are the absolute best, D,"

"That's not the only thing that happened last night. Did you mean it?"

"Mean what?"

"When you told me you loved me," he answered.

"I've never been more sure about anything else in my life,"

A smile broke on his handsome face. "I feel the same way. Can I kiss you?"

Y/N leaned in and kissed him. She waited for those words for so long. There was no way that she was going to let a single second pass. His hands explored her body. They rested on the small of her back. He wanted to keep her close. She was never running away from him again.

Finally, the pair pulled away for some air.

"I want to show you how much I love you, Y/N. What can I do to show-"

Damian was cut off the moment her lips found his once more. Her hand rested against his cheek. She grabbed his hand and led him to his bedroom. He kicked the door closed behind him.

His hands reached under her shirt. He slid his hands up. The shirt was removed from her body, exposing her to him. He sucked in his breath. Brown eyes scanned her body from head to toe. She was perfect. Now left in only her underwear, she took a step back. The back of her knees hit against the bed.

She propped herself on her elbows. He removed his own shirt and threw it to the side. Damian leaned down to kiss her. His teeth pulled her bottom lip.

Y/N's body was worshipped by him. Her neck kissed as he praised her. His lips traveled south. Her nipples licked and teased. She squirmed under him. Her moans filled the room. Soft pants and calls for his name filled his ears.

His fingers snuck inside her panties. Her skin felt him smirk when he felt the damp fabric. She called his name when he applied pressure to her clit. His finger circled around her bundle of nerves.

The build-up in Y/N's lower stomach grew. She tried to close her legs, but he held her thigh. His dark eyes watched her facial expressions. She was in cloud nine, and this was all from his actions.

Damian pulled away from her. Fingers hooked her underwear and pulled them down. He tossed them to the side. He stood up. "Are you sure about this?"

"I want you, Damian," she promised. "More than I've ever wanted anyone before,"

Damian stripped. Y/N's eyes took all of him in. He kissed her lips softly and thrusted inside of her with ease. He groaned in her lips. His thrusts were slow at first. Once her pleasured sounds filled his ears, his thrusts picked up the pace. Her calls for his name turned him on more.

The pressure in her stomach grew. It felt like a rubber band about to snap. She wanted to wait until he finished. All this was for her. She resolved to finish last, but other plans were in the way.

His hand found her clit again. She begged him to stop. That he should finish first. He laughed and told her nonsense.

"Be a good girl for me,"

Her whole body tensed around him. Toes curled and sheets from underneath were gripped tightly. Damian tried to fuck her through it, but the pleasure was too intense. He stilled inside of her, his seed painting her walls.

When he caught his breath, he placed his forehead to hers. His breath tickled her.

"I love you, Y/N, and I will never waste this opportunity with you,"

[pretentious-blonde]

meet the parents

pairing: steve harrington x reader

summary: steve didn't expect things to go smoothly when he introduced you to his parents, but nothing could have prepared him for the rage he felt when they turned their comments towards you

warnings: family drama, alcohol, steve feeling inadequate, steve's father sucks here

a/n: idk if i like how this turned out, but I tried my best

You tugged at the hem of your dress, giving your outfit a once over in the mirror for the last time. You had spent ages rummaging through your wardrobe before you found this one, it’s simple but elegant—enough to make a good impression on Steve’s parents. Whom you were meeting for the first time, tonight. 

They had been nagging him since they returned from their trip, one of many, wanting to meet the girl who he had been seeing in their absence. They insisted on inviting you over for dinner, and based on Steve’s reaction, you knew how much this meant to him. You wanted to look your best. 

The knock on your front door pulls you away from your thoughts. You quickly grab your jacket and scurry down the stairs, slipping your feet into a pair of shoes as you go to greet him. 

He is standing on your front porch, hands buried deep in his pockets as he rocks back on his heels. He reverts his attention to the sound of the door opening. His breath catches in his throat as he drinks in the sight of you, his previous nerves are momentarily replaced with awe at your appearance. God, you looked angelic. 

The world seems to still as he unapologetically stares. The gentle curve of a nervous smile on your lips, the dress hugging your figure just right—it takes a great deal of strength on his behalf not to call the whole thing off. To whisk you away for the evening all to himself, leaving his parents to dine alone. He swallows hard as he composes himself, running a hand through his hair as a lopsided grin graces his features. 

“Honey, you…wow.” He begins, any words that entered his mind seemed unable to articulate how beautiful you looked tonight. “You look amazing.”

A blush creeps up your neck at the compliment, it’s endearing how he still gets tongue-tied around you. “Thanks. Thought I should put in a little effort.”

His fingers twitch at his sides as he faces another dilemma. Wanting to reach out and pull you close, push you back inside and be selfish, but he shoves them deeper into his pockets instead. The anxiety he was feeling about the night ahead was overwhelming, he was dreading it—dreading the way his father would most likely find something to dig at, something to put him down. 

But looking at you now, all dolled up for his sake, he hates it even more. 

He hates that you put effort in for this, when it could have gone to something so much more worthwhile. It was the story of his life, trying so hard time and time again to get their approval, only to be shot down over and over again. He didn’t want to subject you to that. 

The drive there is strangely quiet, except for the faint hum of the radio station that fills the car. His grip on the steering wheel is tighter than it usually was, his eyes trained on the road ahead. His thoughts, however, were miles away. Questions filled his mind about what could happen. What they could say to you. If they made you uncomfortable. Each one was worse than the last, the stress made his chest tighten. 

He brushes them off. How could they not love you like he did? When you’re sitting all pretty beside him, looking so damn perfect. In every way that he is not. 

“You seem quiet,” you say, trying to break the silence. “So, are your parents like, super strict or something?”

He chuckles, but it’s nervous. He has told you bits and pieces about what his family is like. Constant business trips that his mother insisted on tagging along to, holidays without him, calling a few times throughout the week. He had failed to mention how much of a dick his dad could be, especially after a couple drinks. 

“Nah, I mean, they’re not…strict.” His fingers tap anxiously on the steering wheel. “They’re old-fashioned. Like, ‘everything has to be perfect’ kind of way, you know?”

You nod along slowly, mood still playful, not quite picking up on the nerves flowing through the boy next to you. “Damn, I should have brought something, or even baked, huh?”

He laughs now, but the tension still remains in his shoulders. “Honestly, you might be their favourite person after tonight if you did that. I’m pretty sure they like you more than me.”

Your expression falters slightly at that, smile dropping as you reach over to squeeze his hand. “Steve, come on. There is no way that’s true.”

He doesn’t respond, keeping his eyes forward. 

She has no idea.

“Well, if they don’t like me, I’ll get them with my dazzling personality. You fell for it, right?”

That earns you a genuine smile. Yes, he fell for it. He fell damn hard and welcomed it fully. That is why he loathed the idea of bringing you home. Of subjecting you to this dinner. 

“Yeah, you got me good, angel.” He squeezes your hand back. “Hook, line, and sinker.”

His raw honesty renders you silent for a few moments, turning your face to the view outside to hide the flush in your cheeks. He always knew how to do that. Say something so nonchalant that made your knees weak. 

“Just a heads up,” he glances over to you briefly, hand still resting in his as you pull into the driveway of his home. “Just if they say anything…weird, don’t take it seriously.”

“Steve,” you pull your hand away to cup his face, big, brown eyes staring back at you as you reassure him. “I’m sure it will be fine.”

He wants to believe you. He wants to believe you so badly, but the feeling in his stomach only tightens more. In truth, he has no idea how this evening will go. And that terrifies him. 

Steve rounds the car to open your door, holding onto your waist as you head up the stairs to the entrance. He opened the door quietly, stepping aside to let you in. He pauses to take a look at you one last time, almost melting at how the entryway light falls over your face, illuminating your tender smile. He quickly moves to help you with your coat, sliding it off your figure with gentle movements and hanging it on the rack. 

“Shoes too,” he whispers, almost apologetic, his hand gently guiding your gaze toward the carpeted floor.

He had never asked you that before. You raise a brow, amused but willing to comply. “I didn’t realize there was a dress code,” you tease lightly, holding his shoulder and slipping out of your shoes.

He chuckles nervously. “Yeah, just… don’t want you getting into trouble.”

You scrunch your nose at him and smile, but there is something else brewing behind those eyes of his—worry perhaps? You just chalk it up to innocent nerves. I mean, who wouldn’t be slightly anxious to introduce their partner to their parents?

Leading you down the hall, you are greeted with the smell of roast chicken wafting from the kitchen. It’s surprisingly homey, comforting. Tonight might not be so bad after all. 

You step into the dining room, just opposite the open plan kitchen, first locking eyes with Steve’s mother. She gives you a warm smile, which you return. She looks just like him, same eyes, same smile, same kind expression that he always gives you. Her hands are busy on the stove but still when you enter. 

“Oh, you must be Steve’s girlfriend!” She says, her voice cheerful as she wipes her hands on a rogue teatowel. “It’s so lovely to finally meet you.”

“Thank you so much for having me,” beaming as you step forward, leaving Steve’s side for a second. “Everything smells amazing.”

Steve’s dad makes himself known, giving you a curt nod. He sits at the head of the table, relaxed with a beer in his hand which Steve spots immediately. “Glad you could make it,” he tells you, his voice low, but not unkind—for now at least. 

Steve returns to your side once more, a hand on the small of your back, gently guiding you to a seat at the table. This is good, he thinks, allowing a small flicker of hope to spark in his chest. You’re being your usual polite self, and so far, his parents seem…normal. He feels relaxed as his mother places the perfectly roast chicken at the centre of the table, letting out a small breath as he sits down. 

“Oh my gosh,” you exclaim, your face lighting up at the spread. “I love a roast! It’s been so long since I’ve had one.”

His mother blushes, clearly pleased by your praise. “Well, I’m glad to hear it! There is plenty here so please, help yourself.” 

You nod as you pick up the plate of potatoes, Steve picking up the greens, locking eyes as you swap them over. You are pleasantly surprised to see his expression, no longer sour with anxiety. 

“Bet it’s nice to have a home-cooked meal, huh?” Steve’s father takes a swig from his drink before gesturing to the boy at your side. “Kid barely knows how to boil water.”

He lets out a large laugh at his joke, oblivious to the way Steve pauses as he sets down the plate. He forces out a laugh as well, trying to shake it off, but he can’t deny how the joke stings. Especially when it was made in front of you. 

“I mean, I can handle the basics,” he chimes in, trying to defend himself as much as he can without insulting his father. “Eggs, pasta…” He trails off. 

You allow your gaze to wander over to him, your smile faltering as you catch the hurt look in his eyes. His father doesn’t seem to notice—or care at all, really. 

He can cook, he thinks as his eyes are trained on his father. He has cooked for you so many times, and you always said how good it was. The first moment you complimented his food he made it his mission to do it more often. It was something he took pride in. He had to teach himself after all, it’s not like they were ever around to do it, and he couldn’t just live off takeaway pizzas every night. 

He never was in the kitchen when they returned home, his mother always took the reigns there. His jaw tightens as he recalls the countless dinners made alone in his house, too used to the silence that always followed his parents’ absence. 

You set the fork down to the side of your place and turn to him, giving him a look of reassurance that does little to help him. You don’t speak up, but the mix of emotions in your expression makes Steve’s heart lurch. He should have said something, warned you more. Or better yet, come up with an excuse as to why you couldn’t make it tonight. 

His mother was equally as oblivious to the exchange as she carved off another piece of chicken. He doesn’t really care about what his family says about him, he has dealt with much much worse. But it still stings. It stings because it is in front of you. 

The conversation flows well as you all settle into the meal. The chicken was undeniably delicious, the familiar setting of the Harrington house helped soothe you as you chatted politely with is mother. 

“So, what is it you do?” She asks you, tone genuinely curious. 

You finish chewing, wiping your mouth with a napkin before you respond. “I just finished college actually. And I recently got an editing job at the local newspaper. It’s helped me get my first apartment too, so it’s a pretty exciting time.”

Steve can’t help but sit up a little straighter as you speak, his chest filling with a sense of pride that this is the woman he is introducing his folks to. 

That’s my girl, my smart girl.

“Well, isn’t that wonderful!” His mother says, clearly impressed. “You must be so proud of yourself.”

Steve smiled at the knowledge that they approved of you. They might not have approved of him, they made that clearly known whenever they had the chance, but seeing how impressed they were with you—that was enough. He reached across the table, taking your hand in his own and admiring how they looked intertwined in the glow of the dining room. His thumb strokes your knuckles, feeling a smug satisfaction rise up inside of him. You’re smart, capable independent. Everything Steve’s parents valued in a person. He might not be what they wanted him to be but he somehow had you to show for it. He was damn lucky to have you here with him. 

A voice cuts through the warmth he was feeling, a sharp edge bringing him down from his high. “Well, good for you,” his father said, his eyes drifting to your hands. His gaze was cold, calculating. “You know, I’ve always said people with drive go far. Funny how some manage to make it whilst others…don’t.” He gasts a glance at Steve, his voice laced with bitter sarcasm, the same voice that had followed him his whole life. “Guess you lucked out, huh, son? Dating someone with actual ambition.”

The comment hit Steve harder than he cared to admit, the jovial tone from his father did little to soften the blow. His chest tightens as he feels the sting of disappointment, but he can’t help but take the words on board. You are ambitious, you have the whole world at your fingertips. You could do anything you set your mind to and he knew that. He just hoped that when that time came, he would be lucky enough to be cheering you on from the sidelines. 

“Yeah, well,” he begins with a crooked grin. “Guess I’ve got the charm at least.”

The shift in his mood is noticeable to you, you can read him like the back of your hand, the way his smile remains on his face for just a second too long. His father's words were not just a joke, not to Steve. He always doubted himself and his abilities, worried about where he would go in his life. But at the end of the day you were there to support him, whatever decisions he made were his and his alone. 

He tells himself that it’s fine, that he can handle it. Just as long as they don’t go after you, he can take it. He has no problem being the martyr, he has been the punching bag for years and has no problem taking a few more hits.

The way he looks down at his plate makes your chest ache, the way that he acts like this isn’t a big deal. It’s obvious how much it bothers him, no matter how hard he tries to hide it. It hurts you to see him like this—reduced to a quiet, tense version of himself, happy to just keep the peace. 

The clink of silverware continued against the plates as the conversation flowed, finishing up the remainder of dinner, the beer in Steve’s father's glass also gone. He leaned back in his chair, the same look in his eyes that Steve was familiar with, inhibitions mellowed and ready to bite. His eyes narrowed as he observed the both of you, amusement dancing in his gaze like he found the perfect moment to strike. 

“Let me guess,” he began, wiping the edge of his mouth with a napkin before tossing it carelessly onto the table in front. “You’re with Steve because you think you can change him, right? Girls like you always think they can fix a guy like him.”

Steve stiffened beside you, his stomach twisting into a tight knot. He opened his mouth to say something—anything—but the words caught in his throat. For a moment, he felt like a kid again, being told off for something he had no control over. Something he couldn’t change. 

Before he even had time to fully process the insult, you were there. Your tone fast, steady, unfazed. There was no way you would sit there and let that comment go. Not when it was the furthest thing from the truth. 

“I’m not here to change Steve,” you said, your tone calm but resolute. “I’m with him because I love who he already is.”

His heart fluttered in his chest at your words—the way you spoke them. With such unwavering conviction that there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that you meant them. 

His father raised a brow, leaning forward in his chair, sizing you up and clearly enjoying the discomfort he was causing. The act revolted you. You were done with playing nice, you were not going to let him insult you or the one you love. It didn’t matter if they were family. 

“Love, huh?” He scoffed. “That’s cute. But, sweetheart, love doesn’t pay the bills. Steve is not exactly rolling in success here, is he?”

You don’t flinch, not even a little. “I don’t need him to be rolling in anything. He works hard and is more successful than you give him credit for.”

His father barked out a humourous laugh, nowhere near close to finished. “Kind? I’ll give you that. But I’m just saying, girls like you—smart, career-driven, their own place—usually go for someone with a little more ambition.”

You narrowed your eyes at the older man, keeping your voice collected. “Ambition isn’t about titles or money. Steve has plenty of it. He has been through things you couldn’t even understand.”

The tension that settled over the room was tense as you locked eyes. Steve’s mother stared at her husband, you wonder if she wished to say something, or if she also was too scared to challenge the older gentleman. You felt no fear, not when it came to conflict over those you care for. You wouldn’t back down. The more you spoke, the more Steve felt that old, crushing weight of his father’s judgement start to lift from his shoulders. 

“Look,” his father said, not enjoying the pushback. “I’m just telling you what I know. Guys like Steve—they’re nice, sure—but they don’t get you very far. Eventually, you’ll want more, and you’ll leave him just like the last one.’

That one hit hard. Too hard. Steve’s hand clenched under the table, unwanted memories of his past relationship springing to the surface, reopening old wounds. He wanted to make a joke. Wanted to say anything that would get away from this topic. His father noticed how withdrawn he got after Nancy, and now he was throwing it back in his face. He didn’t like weakness, and Steve had never felt more inadequate when that happened. 

“Actually, I’m more than happy with Steve,” you say effortlessly, voice low and confident. “He is one of the most incredible people I’ve ever met. I don’t need to ‘want more’ when I already have everything I could ask for.”

His father’s eyes flickered with something—surprise perhaps? He certainly wasn’t used to being challenged like this, feeling at a loss that his tactics weren’t working. He took it as a sign to cut deeper, harsher. He needed to get the upper hand once more. 

His lips curled into a smirk, one that Steve had seen a thousand times before, the one that always made him feel like he was on the losing end of an argument before it even began.

“Are you really gonna let your woman talk to me like this?” His voice heavy and patronising as he stared Steve down. “That’s what you’re doing now? Letting a girl fight your battles?”

Absolutely not. No fucking way. 

Everything was still, you could hear a pin drop in the room. Steve’s anxiety turned to full-on rage, seeping through every vein in his body as he looked at his father. He didn’t care what he said to him, but the vile way he spoke of you was unacceptable. Something in him snapped at that moment. 

“No,” he said, voice holding unwavering clarity. His father looked shocked, not expecting such a firm response from his son.

“No?” His father echoed, leaning forward slightly, trying to intimidate him. “Finally found your voice huh? Took you long enough.”

“No,” Steve repeated with finality. You glanced over and saw the muscles in his jaw tightening as he met his father’s gaze. “What I’m not gonna do is let you disrespect her like that.”

“Disrespect?” His father scoffed, shaking his head, acting as though he knew better. Like he was better. “I’m just telling it like it is. Someone has to, or you’ll go on thinking you’ve actually done something with your life.”

“I don’t need you to tell me how much of a fuckup I am, okay?” Steve shot back, heart pounding in his chest. “I got the message.”

He looks in your direction, eyes softening slightly as he takes in your expression. It held something his father had never directed at him. Pride. You looked proud of him. And that thought alone stirred him on. 

“What I’m not gonna do is allow you to talk to her like that,” He returns his attention to his father, his finger pointing in your direction. “Not when you don’t know a damn thing about her.”

His father bristled at the insubordination, the condescension in his voice was thick. “I know enough,” he said matter-of-factly. “I know she’s playing house with a guy who peaked in high school. How long till she figures that one out, hm?”

Steve’s blood spiked, now more willing than ever to fight back against his father. He had been pushed around for years, if there was any time to rebel, it would be now. “You don’t know anything about us! You’re hardly here!”

His father leaned back, smug. “I know enough about you, Steve. I know you’ve been coasting. First, it was basketball, then this lousy job at the video store—hell—you’re lucky someone even gave you the time of day. A girl like her? She’s going to wake up and realise you’ve got nothing to offer.”

Steve swallowed hard at that moment, his father’s words were getting to him, digging into his skin and refusing to let go. It was beginning to break him, like so many times previously. He was ready to back down, let him say his piece and be done with it. 

That was until he felt a gentle hand on his leg. One that softly ran its fingers against the denim of his jeans. He stared at it. As its presence. He felt the warmth within your touch, reigniting the fire he never thought lit. 

“You’re wrong,” he said quietly, voice cracking slightly but he pushed on. “She is not like that. You say she’s smart? You have no idea. I trust there is a reason she is with me. She sees who I am, something you have never been able to do.”

His father’s eyes flickered with something that resembled surprise, but he quickly masked it with a cold look. “So, what? You think this tantrum is going to change anything? These are facts.  You’ve always been weak, Steve. That’s why you’ll never—”

“No,” Steve cut him off, using the same word he had been repeating for this conversation, filled with a conviction that startled even himself. “I’m not weak. I’m done letting you make me feel like I am.”

The room went still, the sharpness in Steve’s voice hanging in the air that nobody was accustomed to. His father opened his mouth to respond, but Steve didn’t give him the chance.

“I’m not you. If I was she never would have looked at me twice, and I’m damn proud of that.”

Your exit was swift. Steve grabbed your hand and dragged you to the front door, leaving both of his parents in a state of shock. You just about managed to slip your feet into your shoes as he grabbed your coat to the side of your head. Slamming the door loudly as you left. 

The night air was cold, helping in soothing his raging anger, letting a breath out before he turned to you, stare softening with affection. He turned to face you, touching your cheek with such tenderness as he searched your eyes, trying to figure out how you were feeling. 

“Are you alright?” He asked softly, running his thumb along your cheekbone. 

“I’m alright,” you assured him, leaning into his touch. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I—wow,” he was still jittery, letting out a shaky laugh and running a hand through his hair. “I can’t believe I said all that.”

“I can,” you said as you gave him a reassuring smile. “I’m really proud of you.”

His expression was gentle, grateful to actually hear the words that had been denied for so many years. There was another emotion within him as well, a sense of awe. The way you handled yourself with grace, not bending under pressure. He swore he was already head over heels for you, but after tonight? He fell for you a just little bit harder. He shakes his head at your previous compliment. 

“You were amazing in there, sweetheart,” a crooked smile forming. “God, you’re something you know that?”

You smiled as you allowed him to lead you to his car, arm resting on your back as he opened the door for you. He slipped into the driver's seat and started the ignition, fingers drumming on the steerwheel as he tried to gather his thoughts. “I don’t think I can go back there. Like, ever.”

“Yeah, I kind of got that,” you say as you nudge him playfully. “Guess I’m gonna have to move you in, huh?”

He glanced at you as he pulled away from his childhood home, a teasing smile tugging at his lips. “Is that so?”

You laughed and rolled your eyes, pleased that he was making jokes instead of spiralling. The comfortable silence that filled the car was peaceful, but his expression shifted, something tentative, serious settled over him. 

“We could, you know.”

You blinked at his proposition. “What?”

He cleared his throat and immediately regretted saying anything. His nerves now spiking at his confession. It was too late to back out now, the words that spilt from his mouth flowed without thought. 

“I mean,” he started, knuckles turning white as his grip tightened. “I may work retail, but I definitely make enough to rent an apartment. I could contribute, really. I could…”

He trailed off, watching your reaction carefully. There was a sincerity in his words that made your heart melt.

“I mean, I’m not gonna be mad about halving the rent,” you said with a blush forming on your face at the thought of living with him. Of waking up with him, coming home to him. For all of your belongings being mingled together. For everywhere you look his presence is there with you. 

His face broke out into the softest, most boyish smile you had ever seen on him. “You mean it?” He uttered, voice quiet, as if he may have misheard you. 

“Yes, Steve,” you brush a hand through his hair, so in love with the sweet boy next to you. “I mean it.”

[https-milo]

hi u like dont have to but if u still wirte those mha insta things can u do momo x reader shes my girl and i would literally worship the ground she walks on shes the best

i can never leave the mha insta series (/pos)

DATING MOMO YAOYOROZU INSTAGRAM!

details!

instagram posts w/ comments while dating Momo Yaoyorozu!

a/n OBVIOUSLY these are just pictures off of pinterest, reader can be however you imagine!

(a/n momo, one chance. momo please.)

main m. list / instagram m. list

momosgfy/n · 10w

16.8k likes Liked by uravity, meenypinkie, izuked, earjackjirou

momosgfy/n someone pinch me, there's no way this GODESSS of a woman is dating ME.

yaomomo Love, no need to be pinched. I am absolutely yours and this isn't a dream ❤️ momosgfy/n yaomomo maybe not a dream rn, but I've DEFINITELY dreamed about this before yaomomo momosgfy/n you're so sweet, y/n momosgfy/n yaomomo MWAH MWAH!!!

denkaminari Awww such a cute picture! if you look closely, you can see my hanging from a tree in the background!! momosgfy/n denkaminari what a weird way of saying we're a cute couple!!

yaomomo · 8w

21.7k likes Liked by uravity, izuked, denkaminari, earjackjirou

yaomomo my family took a surprise trip to France. Obviously, I had to bring my favorite girl with us ❤️

momosgfy/n IT WAS SO FUN!! Our dates were the best parts of the trip ❤️❤️❤️❤️ yaomomo momosgfy/n I agree wholeheartedly. Spending time with you is never anything less than enjoyable ❤️ momosgfy/n yaomomo 😭I😭 LOVE 😭YOU😭 SO😭 MUCH😭

uravity oh to have a rich gf v4mpt0ga uravity I can rob a bank :3

izuked you guys are so cute together momosgfy/n izuked tysm!! izuked momosgfy/n I have an analysis of your personalities and quirks and how they both strengthen and affect your relationship positively!! you two are crazy compatible momosgfy/n izuked if you were literally anyone else, i'd think that was weird. But I'm taking that as a compliment

redr1ot i just punched a wall :,)

momosgfy/n · 7w

17.4k likes Liked by meenypinkie, uravity, rainyfroppy, earjackjirou

momosgfy/n apple picking with most gorgeous girl in the world ❤️

yaomomo youre so sweet love ❤️ thank you for taking me to that orchard momosgfy/n yaomomo literally anytime. I am at your beck and call. Anything you want from me will be in your hands as soon as I can. I love you so much ❤️ yaomomo momosgfy/n that's a little much, but I appreciate your enthusiasm momosgfy/n yaomomo I'd reckon it's not enough. I need to develop a second quirk so I can teleport at the sound of my name from your lips. I need to be Beetlejuice. yaomomo momosgfy/n that sentiment is beautiful, but I love you just the way you are ❤️ momosgfy/n yaomomo 😭I 😭MISS😭YOU😭 yaomomo momosgfy/n my dorm room is open ❤️

tokofumikage thanks for the basket of apples you two. yaomomo tokofumikage it was our pleasure! momosgfy/n tokofumikage of course tokoyami!!!!!!!!

serophane my body is buried under the apple trees, I died from how lonely I am compared to you. momosgfy/n serophane aw ok! buh bye

yaomomo · 5w

23.9k likes Liked by meenypinkie, uravity, izuked, denkaminari, rainyfroppy

yaomomo she's too beautiful. I hope she can forgive for interrupting our studying to kiss ❤️

momosgfy/n YOURE FORGIVEN. YOU WERE NEVER IN TROUBLE IN THE FIRST PLACE. I LOVE YOU. I LOVE YOUR KISSES. I'M DEEPLY ENTHRALLED WITH YOU!!! yaomomo momosgfy/n you flatter me, sweetheart ❤️ momosgfy/n yaomomo just speaking my truth baby!!! :DDD ❤️❤️❤️

meenypinkie you two are so cute it makes me violently sick. momosgfy/n meenypinkie why does your friendgroup have such weird ways of complimenting us?? meenypinkie momosgfy/n we'll never know!!

momosgfy/n · 3w

15.9k likes Liked by rainyfroppy, izuked, meenypinkie, uravity

momosgfy/n this girl is the love of my life. she's my world and the entire universe. our souls are entwined in such a way I could understand her if she was deaf and I was blind. I love you so much, momo. Thank you for giving me the best girlfriend I've ever had ❤️

yaomomo love, you are my muse and the light that guides my world. You're at the center of my universe. Everything I do is because of how much you've inspired an uplifted me. You're always there for me and that fact alone can never be repaid. You've made my days so much brighter by just being by my side. Thank YOU for giving me the best girlfriend ❤️ momosgfy/n yaomomo I'm crying. I love you so much ❤️❤️ yaomomo momosgfy/n my dorm is open ❤️

meenypinkie alright gang, who has their notes ready!! serophane meenypinkie yes ma'am denkaminari serophane goodbye lonely world redr1ot denkaminari it was nice knowing you k.bakugo denkaminari you're all fucking idiots. earjackjirou denkaminari /redr1ot /serophane /meenypinkie stand up already.

© https-milo. please do not repost, steal, copy, or modify my works!

Thank you so much for reading <3

[horny-p0et]

incelbur blurb part four

the support on this little series has been amazing, i want to thank all of you for the likes, comments and reblogs. that support and exposure encourages me to post more and improve as a writer. so thank you. genuinely c:

also this is the longest part yet and an apology to everyone who was upset y/n didn't kiss wilbur last part lol.

part one + part two + part three

warnings: alcohol, masturbation, noncon somnophilia

wordcount: 2503

dont like, dni. please just block me and move on.

────୨ৎ────

INCELBUR who avoided you for two weeks to punish you for breaking his heart. he was furious at you, but angrier at himself. he wasn't surprised you didn't like him, no one does. and they shouldn't like him, he's an ugly piece of shit. he told his professor he was sick to skip your classes together, he couldn't see or smell you again because he'd get on his knees and beg for the forgiveness he doesn't deserve.

INCELBUR who still kept an eye on your social media, obsessing over every scrap of information he could find. he wanted to know if you were upset, if you were struggling. but you just looked as happy and carefree as you always do. it was like salt in his wounds, seeing you laughing and smiling with your friends, enjoying life in a way he doesn't know how too.

INCELBUR who got a message from you after two weeks, ignoring the notification for a few hours before curiosity got the best of him. its an apology of sorts, reminding him that you care about him. it makes his heartrate increase but he knows there has to be something more, you have to be hiding something. because if you cared about him you wouldn't hurt him like this. you ask if he wants to game with you, and he knows he should say no. he should tell you to fuck off and die, but he doesn't. he says yes. he doesn't know who he is without you.

INCELBUR who tries to put his walls up now that you guys are talking again, bury his feelings in his shoes and just be satisfied with a friendship. but he isn't. he wants you to be his girlfriend, to be owned by him. he'd be happy if you loved him, he knows you could fix him. make him a better man, teach him to love himself, he wishes he deserved your love. he knows he doesn't.

INCELBUR who drinks until his vision blurs when he see's you at another bar, another night out having fun without him. you post a photo of your little black dress and it makes him so hard he thinks he might pass out because of the lack of blood in his brain. all he wants to do is rip it off and explore your body with his hands and mouth, show you what a good lover he could be. he knows he shouldn't but before he can stop himself he calls you, his fingers fumbling on the phone screen.

"wilbur? do you need something?"

".... you. needed to hear your voice, need you to tell me you still like me."

"of course i still like you, wilbur. i've always liked you."

"why? why do you fucking like me? i'm disgusting, and you're perfect and happy. everything i'm not."

INCELBUR who feels like crying when you reassure him he isn't disgusting, tell him that you think he's sweet and cute. you tell him he's funny and way better than you at call of duty, and way smarter than he gives himself credit for. he asks you how you stay happy when the world is so awful all the time, how do you stay so beautiful when everything else is broken.

INCELBUR who doesn't believe it when you tell him you aren't perfect. he can't understand when you open up and tell him you don't feel beautiful, how you hate the way you look in the mirror and aren't happy everyday. how can you be sad? do you not see the goddess on earth in the mirror when you wake up? he hates hearing your insecurities, you shouldn't feel as bad as he does. it isn't fair, you don't deserve that.

INCELBUR who like he's been punched in the chest when you offer to come over to his house that night, ditch your friends to make sure he's okay. he hates that his first thought if you coming over to fuck him, sucking his dick to make him feel better. he knows that isn't what you're offering, you just want to come over and look after a friend. but a man can dream.

INCELBUR who agrees, scrambling to clean his room before you get there. he throws as much rubbish as he can into the bin until its overflowing, shoving his piles of dirty clothes into his wardrobe and shutting the door. he sees the way his sheets are stained and wishes he had time to throw them in the wash, you deserve better than the disgusting man cave he rots in for days at a time. you should have a castle and lush fabrics, not him. anything is better than him.

INCELBUR who thanks god his mum is away on a work conference when you show up, he's embarrassed by the fact he still lives with her in his 20's but he doesn't know how to take care of himself. he can't cook, doesn't know how to save money or do his laundry properly. he apologises for the mess, you tell him it's okay and you don't care. but you should care, he's a slob.

"sorry about coming over on such short notice, i just wanted to make sure you didn't do something stupid."

"i called you when you were busy with your friends, that was pretty stupid."

"well, yeah but you needed some help. there isn't anything wrong with that. you know you can always call me when you need help, that's what friends do."

"... i guess so. i'm just not used to having friends at all. i don't want to make people deal with my shitty existence."

"if i didn't want to deal with your existence i wouldn't have bothered talking to you at all, mate."

INCELBUR who thinks you are an angel. that's the only logical reason you make him feel this good. you sit on his bed listening to some music, and he finds himself opening up about all the things he's kept hidden. his absent father, his insecurities about his body, his paranoia that everyone is out to get him, his innate need for validation and love. you thank him for opening up and put your hand on his bicep, squeezing gently. he hates that such a simple gesture of love makes his dick stiffen in his sweatpants.

INCELBUR who listens when you tell him about your problems. how you worry about the future, distracting yourself with partying so you can ignore that voice in the back of your head that says you're a disappointment. he wishes he could press a button that would make you feel better, even if the button only worked once he would use it on you instead of himself.

INCELBUR who tells you he's a virgin, how he hasn't had a girlfriend or even kisses anyone before. he wants too, badly. any form of intimacy he craves like a drug he's never even had. it makes him insecure knowing how everyone around him did it years ago. it makes him feel like the biggest loser in the world. you remind him there's more to life than finding love but he doesn't believe it. he knows he would be happy if someone loves him, because then maybe he could love himself.

"honestly my first kiss was awful, it was with some guy when i was thirteen at school. if i'd waited for someone who actually cared about me it would have been more memorable."

"i guess, but at least you had someone who wanted to kiss you. no one has ever wanted to kiss me."

"... you sure?"

INCELBUR who thinks this must be some cruel joke when you offer to kiss him. he knows you've been drinking tonight, and you just feel sorry for him and his sad life so you're throwing him a bone. but even knowing all that he says yes, god yes. he can't say no to you, he'd jump off a sky scraper for you. you tell him the kiss doesn't mean anything and it'll help him get over that desire if he just does it, and see's its just a thing. a physical action and not some giant, life changing event.

INCELBUR who forgets to breath when you put your hand on his cheek, he can smell your perfume and the alcohol on his breath and he think's he's suffocating, drowning in you. then you kiss him. your lips are soft, gentle, loving. his hands find your shoulders, his fingers dig into the skin, he can feel the bones and muscles underneath and he knows he's already in too deep.

INCELBUR who could have died when your tongue slides against his bottom lip, gently asking for entry. he lets you, of course. why shouldn't he? he wishes he had brushed his teeth that morning but if he tasted bad you don't pull away, instead your hand moves from his cheek to grip the curls at the nape of his neck and tilt your head to the side to deepen the kiss.

INCELBUR who's cock is so hard it hurts, the outline so clear in his pants but he can't bring himself to be embarrassed. he's kissing you, his first kiss is with the most gorgeous woman on the planet and she's kissing him back. His hands move on his own, moving from your shoulders to your waist, one gripping the fabric of your dress while the other snakes up to palm your breast. he moans into your mouth, his body shaking with anticipation of anything else, of more of you. all of you.

INCELBUR who whines when you pull away, giving him a small smile. you sit back but he doesn't move his hands, he isn't ready to let you go. he asks to kiss you again, and you chuckle. you tell him you're happy to make out some more but you aren't fucking him, he's too drunk. he wants to protest and tell you it doesn't fucking matter if he's intoxicated, if he was sober he would just be drunk on your lips instead. but he stops himself, he'll accept more kisses if it means you stay with him a little longer.

INCELBUR who makes out with you on his bed for what could have been hours or minutes, he can't tell. you grip his wrist to pull his hand away when it tries to sneak up your dress, so he grabs your ass instead. you're lying on top of him, your warmth seeping into his bones. eventually though, it stops and you get off him. he opens his mouth to demand you get back on him but suddenly you're asking to crash the night. now he knows he is dreaming.

INCELBUR who agrees, how can he resist you? he feels like such a slob knowing you'll be sleeping in his gross sheets but you asked, you know what you're getting into. he offers you one of his shirts to sleep in and he can't wipe the grin off his face when you agree. you disappear into the bathroom and when you come out you're just in his shirt and your panties, the fabric hanging around your thighs. his cock pulses, still painfully hard. god, you will be the death of him. he doesn't take his own shirt off, he doesn't want you to see his pasty, skinny body.

INCELBUR who spoons you from behind when you slide into bed beside him, one arm under your neck while the other grips your hip possessively. he leaves some space between his hips and yours, he knows you would have felt his boner when you kissed but he doesn't want to scare you away. you tell him goodnight, and nuzzle your head into his pillow. he presses a kiss to the back of your neck, he wants to tell you he loves you. but he doesn't. he just says goodnight, and thanks you for coming over tonight.

INCELBUR who can't fall asleep with you in his arms. he glances at his alarm clock to see he's been lying behind you for at least two hours, still hard as a rock. you're asleep though, serene and relaxed in his bed. he's imagined how you'd look asleep beside him but reality is better than his imagination. you look beautiful, your face relaxed and lips parted as you breath deeply. you should stay he every night, you look happy here. with him.

INCELBUR who can't resist shuffling forward until his clothes erection is pressed against the cleft of your ass. he bites back a moan at the pressure, he's leaking precum and its pathetic. he knows it's wrong but his hand on your stomach creeps up to your tits again, massaging the globes through his shirt until he feels your nipple harden. he pressed his face into the back of your hair, inhaling your scent as his hips rut gently against the curve of your buttocks.

INCELBUR who is being a creep. he knows that's who he is deep down, and he's desperate. he slides his hand up his shirt to play with your bare tits, his cock twitching with excitement when he feels your nipple against his palm. he wants to suck them, bite them. but he knows if he moves to much you'll wake up and be furious at him, so he keeps his movements and touches subtle. his hips roll in a gentle rhythm, its not enough to get him off but the pressure on his cock is enough to relieve some of his tension.

INCELBUR who presses kisses to the back of your neck and shoulders, sucking on the skin softly. he wants to mark you, to show everyone who belongs to him. he hesitated for only a moment before he presses his teeth into your soft flesh, increasing the pressure until he's confident you'll wake up tomorrow with a bite mark on your shoulder. he can feel the wet patch leaking through his pants from his precum and hopes to god you can't feel the wetness against your ass.

INCELBUR who doesn't remember falling asleep, but when he blinks his eyes open he reaches for you again. but you're not there. he sits upright, his head spinning from his hangover. he rubs his eyes, clearing his vision and scanning his room for you. but you're gone. your shoes and purse aren't there, the shirt you wore sits folded on his desk chair. he's filled with so many conflicting emotions he doesn't even notice the note on his bedside table.

INCELBUR who screams into his pillow, throwing a textbook against the wall hard enough to dent the plaster. of course you're gone, why the fuck would you give him the privilege of waking up beside you? god, he's such an idiot. why did he even think he had a chance with you? it was just some fucking kisses. he's just a charity case, not deserving of anything more than the scraps you give him.

--==--

taglist: @lillyspeakz @multifandomhallucinations @xxvalentinezxx @charlidog @bellelikesmcyt

[sugarushwriting]

lee heeseung is obsessed with you

“night night.”

will this be a one part drabble or more?

not proof read

love the comments, reblogs and likes!! appreciate feedback as well!

i am open to requests and will try to fulfill it or let you know if i will decline 🫶🏽

₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ ₊˚⊹♡

“he’s a little weird, don’t you think?” your friend joy asked.

“he’s not weird, joy. he’s just shy!” you defended the poor guy.

the guy in question was lee heeseung. smart, handsome, funny, and an introvert sadly. he would talk to people, but he was so shy, especially around girls, not typically the one to initiate conversation first.

you have known him for a little while. you had a few classes with him as you shared the same major. just recently you were partnered with him for a final class project. he was shy the entire time you both worked on the project, but so insightful bringing in another point of view to the assignment.

since then, you made sure to always say hi and smile to heeseung.

little did you know, this fed into his obsession with you.

joy gave heeseung a dirty look, as he stared off into space, deep in thought. he was just minding is business, and you found it annoying how much joy was always talking down heeseung, all because he was different than other boys on campus.

as the professor rambled on, you were more than thrilled for winter break to begin. this was your last class of the week, and then you would have 3 weeks off from school until the next semester.

“and that class, is why you should never trust just anyone.” the professor ended his lecture and told the class to have a good break.

you would have him next semester for economics 2 class.

you packed up your things along with joy, looking over to heeseung seeing him doing the same at a slow pace.

“he even matches your pace to make sure yall leave at the same time.” joy scoffed.

heeseung then quickly finished packing his things, leaving the class room and you two back. you turned to joy, raising an eyebrow with an annoyed look.

“he probably heard you bitching.” you sighed. “enjoy your break!”

“yeah yeah, i still have 2 more classes this week.”

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

you walked to the nearby coffee shop to get your usual drink. it was getting colder, and you knew snow would soon fall.

you opened the door, the bell chiming above, and when you got in line, you noticed a familiar figure.

“heeseung!” you greeted happily.

heeseung turned around, his big bambi eyes brightening up at hearing your sweet voice. he nodded and bowed sweetly, with a smile “hi.” he waved shyly.

“next!” the cashier called.

heeseung was next. he ordered his favorite drink and yours. he turned to you, “it’s on me.”

“aw thank you heeseung!” you smiled happily. you don’t understand how people didn’t like this man. he was so sweet, handsome, thoughtful, and kind. and his shyness was honestly attractive to you.

after paying, you followed heeseung to the side where the pickup portion of the counter was.

“wait, how did you know what i usually ordered?” you asked.

heeseung stuttered nervously, “when—when we worked on our project. i remember you ordering it a few times.”

you nodded in realization. “well thank you for paying attention to what i like. more than what my ex ever did.” you smiled rocking back and forth. “and heeseung, no need to be nervous around me, okay?” you said sweetly, and placed your hand on his upper arm.

heeseung blushed in excitement to your touch. he wish he wasn’t wearing a jacket so he could feel your hands on his bare skin.

the barista called heeseungs name, and he gathered both of your drinks. “would you like to sit and drink with me?”

you nodded, “sure!” you chirped happily,

that’s what heeseung loved about you. you always were trying to be optimistic, and happy, even in the toughest times. he noticed how kind you were to others, especially animals, and how you rarely got angry and frustrated unless someone was being rude. you were smart and beautiful. he loved your eyes, your smile, your nose shape, your body shape.

he loved the way your lips turned to an ‘o’ when you were surprised, and wondered if that was what you looked like when—

“heeseung?” you snapped your fingers in front of his face, startling him out of his daydream

“so—sorry, i got side tracked trying to remember if i locked my front door.” he laughed.

“understandable.” you giggled.

heeseung was enjoying your company alone, until a man from the football team walked up to say hi to you.

it’s not like the guy was flirting, no, you actually happened to know this guy since grade school and reconnected freshman year. he was a good friend. plus he had a girlfriend he was loyal to of 2 years.

but heeseung didn’t know that and he didn’t care. he just didn’t like the idea of any man but him near you. near what was his. even though you didn’t know it yet.

you bid goodbye to your long-time friend, noticing heeseungs face turned in a scowl.

“heeseung, are you okay?”

heeseung quickly fixed his face with a smile, “oh yeah sorry.” he sighed and took a sip of his drink. “so who was that?”

“a friend from childhood. we recently reconnected.”

“just a friend?” heeseung asked, leaning in closer.

“just a friend.” you agreed with a nod.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

you were getting ready for bed that night, when you found your apartment colder than usual. checking the thermostat, it was set at the right temperature, so you walked around your small apartment looking for the source.

“why is it so cold?” you asked yourself, rubbing your hands together. you turned the thermostat up a little, and it kicked on.

walking to your bedroom, you shut off all the lights and got comfy in bed ready to watch some television before falling asleep.

except for some reason, something felt off. like you were being watched. you sat up in bed, taking in the environment of your bedroom. nothing was out of place. not even a little bit.

you felt naked and exposed. even though you were dressed in plaid pajama pants and a sweatshirt.

you’ve watched those movies and shows. where a peeping tom hides cameras in bathrooms and closets and random places.

you threw your comforter off your body and quickly walked back to the living area, double making sure the door was locked.

check.

next you checked all the windows.

check.

you checked the small hall closet and any small places.

check. clear.

next, you walked back to your bedroom.

you walked to the window.

check. locked.

however—it felt cold in this area. like a lingering breeze. you never opened this window, you knew that for a fact.

could have someone came in?

impossible, you lived on the third floor.

your brain racked so many ideas and thoughts that you didn’t notice a dark figure come into your room, until you felt a presence.

you quickly turned around, coming eye to eye with those bambi eyes.

“heeseung?”

“can’t have you fighting me, now can i?”

“huh?” you stupidly asked and a cloth came to your mouth, as heeseung smothered you with it.

“night night.”

₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ ₊˚⊹♡

[peachsukii]

Hey beanie babies. Popping in to just be transparent with what’s going on over in Peach city.

From a surface level, you guys have heard me say how September is such an awful month for myself. There’s too much packed into this month that I don’t have the wherewithal to explain right now, but it’s hard. I love fall, it’s such a beautiful time of year, but it clashes with my seasonal (and normal) depression something fierce. On top of the weight of this month, I’ve lost two family members less than a month apart. It all just kind of makes me spiral a bit about life overall (why I have to lose people, etc.) and I try my damndest to shove it all away, or channel it somewhere else. But the clouds are rolling over peach town right now and I’m not sure when it’ll pass.

I’ll be around poking in and out, mostly on queue or whenever I feel like chiming in. I might write? I might not. I’m gonna work on the radio station mood boards to help and answer some old asks to bring me some joy.

All of this to say, thank you to anyone who’s given me an ounce of kindness here and made me feel better, even for a moment. Love you guys. 💗

[crying-fantasies]

still the same person who forgot anonymously thing..I really admire and love your angst lore it make my heart hurt (in a gud way)

Thanks for the ask, don't worry I won't show your account name anon!

SG Mayhem, well, to begin with, it should mean that SG Soundwave finally scored a date with his intended to begin with.

The Shatter Glass universe is a very awful one, as the autobots keep having the script on their favor even in this reality, there's such little time to stop and think about the glee of life itself, even for SG Soundwave, but hey, finding joy and showing it to the others is his job, among other things.

SG Soundwave finds his love for the human race even when humans are anything but bitter towards his own race, in the very few songs and recordings of the same almost lost ones, when the humans get tipsy seems to be his favorite part of the day not because they do such silly things, he loves it because it means his little friends are putting their trust in him, in the decepticons, and he loves when they all start to sing, looking at them with the same adoration a child does to the most strange creature, his weight put on his arms as his pedes kick slowly in the air, chest piece on the floor as the humans sing "The look".

His interest focused, as usual, over his human intended, the world seems to slow down as there's that carefree smile you hardly give in the dark world you live, dancing messily and with a hard body, smiling with your flat, little teeth as the lyrics fall from your lips, hair a mess as you enjoy yourself.

In the most forgotten, rotten, stressed, hardened and sad human being he found your light a beautiful shiny drop in all the bitter of situations even when you brushed him away once and then indefinitely.

SG Soundwave, like any other of his other versions, is anything but perseverant.

His perseverance gets him more than a short hello, more than a scornful glance, soon a truthful ounce of expectancy shows on your eyes when you see him, once he is sure you won't take cover to avoid his presence he finally starts courting you, back in Kaon music was so appreciated, he makes his own version of "The look" as he knows is human tradition to dedicate someone a very well know song, he gives it his own touch to make it his own to some degree, his version and yours.

Some cons and humans look the display, most humans look grossed out of their minds when you take place on his waiting servo, making him feel the most fortunate con alive, some cons looking just say "huh, finally".

And many cons can only say "fragging finally" when some find a tiny but discernable smell in you and the beginning of a pretty mark on the skin where your neck meets your shoulder almost a year later.

SG Mayhem is forged during the time the decepticons take over Kaon once again, for a moment SG Soundwave has a happy family, as he can see you smile sincerely once again holding the protoform, the little one searching for your warm body.

It's a dream come true, one that quickly creates a living nightmare.

The cassettes are with Mayhem and you, SG Soundwave is with High Command before the living quarters are attacked, non combative forces are decimated and Soundwave fears the worst when his spark pulses but he can't perceive your life in the other end, his cassettes return to him with a scared Mayhem.

SG Mayhem is maybe one of the most scarred ones.

SG Soundwave tries to raise his sparkling in the best environment he can give him, he wants to keep your memory alive, but Primus is it hard when all Mayhem does is think about how to kill the autobots better, once Mayhem is old enough he tries to kill SG Sideswipe himself once his body is matured because he was an autobot, things got so bad the youngling wanted answers from SG Megatron himself in how he could leave an autobot, who has murdered thousands, who was part of the same group that killed his carrier right in front of him, be now a decepticon.

SG Megatron, in all his wisdom, reminds the youngling that SG Sideswipe changed alliances long before Mayhem was even online, it was not his fault, as everyone has their own choices, and as hard as it is to say in front of his old friend, you made your decision of giving your life for the ones you loved most.

"Decisions, decisions, decisions. It's all about fragging decisions!"

SG Soundwave looks at the fragment of his own spark and your soul walk away, nothing on him more than a few energon cubes on his subspace, SG Frenzy and SG Rumble each holding a pede of the youngling to try to stop him.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"If Megatron doesn't kill Optimus Prime, I'll do it myself"

Of course, SG Soundwave stops him, a desperate sire holding to what he has left and never wishing war to befall his precious gift, SG Buzzsaw and SG Ravage try to make him see reason as SG Laserbeak can only watch horrified and SG Ratbat cries for everyone to stop shouting, crying out loud "Your carrier would've never wanted this for you!"

SG Mayhem is full of resentment for any autobot, but is all the sadness and bitterness he seems to have inherited from you, such an endless sadness that, even when SG Soundwave tried to stop it, only gave path for an auto destructive rage, if SG Mayhem were to meet the IDW equivalent of his sire, he would hate him because, even if it was only for a short period of time, he was an autobot ally.

[cyn-bot]

DIVERSITY WIN!

the cannibalistic, skin stealing, eldritch abomination ROBOT is a LESBIAN!!!

Oh my! Now this is a LOVELY piece of fanart! The details you added are absolutely stunning! I adore the hearts you added.

You definitely got my good side, dear.

[irisbaggins]

Spoilers, ahoy!

Going off of this post, the idea that Lila and Jaysohn were born in the same Winter that Geoffrey and Tula died is very interesting, thematically. The season of death brought life, yet the season of life brought death. Tula had to wrestle with grief and being undead, whilst everything around her began to bloom and thrive. What had been an idea of joy and pride for Tula and Geoffrey, to get to introduce their children to the outside in the Spring, becomes something bitter and lonely as she must accomplish this all by herself. They were supposed to be together when the snow thawed, but now she's alone, and has to teach their children all on her own. She must teach them to hunt, to hide, to protect, but also to explore, to run, to learn. She has to keep her position in the Warren, has to appease her mother and take care of her sister.

Tula started the season of Winter with joy and life, but all she got by the end was death and duty.

It's fitting, then, that by the start of Winter once more, she has found peace. She finds hope once more, because she isn't alone, anymore. She never was. It's poetic.

[missmungoe]

If you have a moment, you should go check out TricksterMelon on Twitter :) I hope you like it <3

I am speechless

[mintytealfox]

UGHHHHH OMG i was listening to this song earlier (its in tagalog) and I couldn't stop thinking of nortalice during this line

"When I'm with you,

I don't know what to do

To turn away or to gaze

at your beauty?"

I DONT EVEN KNOW WHY AAA maybe the brainrot is real. (Song is dulo ng hangganan btw which means "the end of time")

GASP OH MYY GOODNESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

😭😭🙏

Gosh the image of them both thinking that towards the other ;; Seeing the other in their element and the one watching is just: "wow"

(why-is-this-the-best-I-could-find-oh-my-gosh-searching-for-gifs-on-tumblr-is-so-hard-why-this-works-though-heh)