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mybelovedsylus · 5 months ago

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Okay so I just wanted to write some fluffy fluff. I didn't proofread in the slightest so please forgive me. And if you enjoy it and want to stick around I would love to have ya - also feel free to message me any little ideas you'd like to see. I'm still newer to the game so pardon anything that doesn't feel true to the lore- I'm still playing through it all. I'm sure there will be more drabbles to come. Lastly, the more is just covering a poll I was physically unable to remove via my iPad so pls ignore that. Okay now enjoy.

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He was pissed. No pissed wasn’t even a word that could fully encompass the emotional turmoil raging through his veins. His fists clenched and unclenched over and over again, his evol pulsing in time with it. The excess energy was just ratcheting higher as the moments passed and the front door remained firmly shut. You were supposed to be back from the mission over two hours ago, and somehow you had also lost the tail he assigned to you. As the thought filtered through his mind he looked sharply to the left to throw a glare at Mephisto. What was the point of him if he couldn’t handle the most important mission he was assigned? In fact he was contemplating all the slow, painful ways that he could deconstruct said crow the door slammed open. His head whipped around to catch you stumbling through the door, and he was out of the seat in an instant. Times like this the evol came in handy as he was suddenly by your side, slipping his arms under you and hoisting you into a bridal carry.

“Why do you insist on testing Mephisto?”

“I come back black and blue and you’re more concerned with the surveillance experiment you call a pet,” you groan out, arms holding your middle. You swear at the sign of your discomfort Sylus’ own arms tighten to hold you closer to his body. You can also feel the cool caress of his evol as it slowly takes inventory around your body.

“I figure you would worry more if I started with the obvious concern about you,” he responded in a gruff whisper. Suddenly you wanted to lean into the nickname you were given, and curl up further into the warmth his body was giving off. He rewarded you with his plush mattress, but then tortured you pulling your legs out so you were laying flat on your back.

“What kind of sadist are you?”

“Usually you love it when I get you on your back,” he managed a slightly seductive tone on top of the obvious concern bleeding through. You groaned at that, attempting to roll away from him and burrow into the safe haven of the covers. Sylus simply tsk’d at you, dragging you back to the edge of the bed.

“Not so fast kitten, there are clearly some things that need to be addressed before I allow you the reprieve of sleep.”

“Fine, just get it over with,” you mutter, throwing your arm over your eyes to block out even the muted bit of light coming through. You can hear the soft laugh Sylus lets out at your dramatics. However, not looking meant there was no preparation for the sting of antiseptic in open wounds. My eyes flew open and I sat up quickly, a hairsbreadth away from hitting Sylus in the nose with my forehead.

“Holy fuck, warning?” You gasped out debating how far you would get with slapping the shit out of him- or at least slapping the smirk off his face.

“You told me to get it over with, figured I wouldn’t bore you with the details darling,” he responded with an overly innocent grin pulling at the corners of his mouth. He brushed some of the hair of your forehead gently, and he pulled at the skin underneath assessing the cut that was dripping blood into your brow. That was quick to cause his smile to falter quickly, concern etching into the wrinkles forming along his forehead.

“You know you could have had backup if you wouldn’t be so adamant on shaking the crow,” he tells her, moving to clean the wound and place small bandaids to hold the cut together. The proximity to him dulled the sting. As he worked, she got to take in Sylus up close, the way he bit his lip as he focused, the way his eyes softened as he moved more hair out of your eyes, and how his eyes seemed to glow (without help of the aether) as his gaze dropped to hers. There was a hesitation, his hands coming up to cup your face before he leaned down and stole a quick, soft kiss. He pulled back slowly before leaning back in, a bruising kiss this time as his hand moved to tangle in your hair. His hand grazed against a lump forming on the back of your skull and you groaned.

“Right, not the time. You’ve just had me worried sick all night love.”

“But I got your intel,” I smiled sweetly at him, pulling him in for another kiss. Much softer than the one he stole just now, one that reassured him that I was right here, worse for wear but still here.

“It's a good thing I already have white hair.”

#lads sylus #lads #love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #sylus love and deepspace #love and deepsace fluff #lads fic #lads fanfic #fluffy drabble #sylus is my main obs

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icycoldninja · 6 months ago

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Not sure if you do Nero the Sable or Weiss the Immaculate or any DEEPGROUND character but! Could you do fluff for Nero? If not it's okay!! And if you aren't sure maybe try Vincent<3 Whatever is easier for you!! XD

I know next to nothing about DEEPGROUND and characters related to it, but I am happy to do some Vincent fluff! Hope you like it!

My turn (Vincent x Reader fluff)

"Get off me." Vincent, a man of few words, uttered the first sentence he'd made for exactly 45 minutes. Up until this point, he had been sitting on the couch in silence with you draped across his lap like a large cat upon its owner.

"No," You replied calmly, nonchalantly, as if your conversation was nothing more than a discussion on what to have for dinner. Vincent let out an unhappy grumble at you, but said nothing more for the next five minutes.

"...Please?"

It was hard to believe this word even came out of the mouth of Vincent Valentine, one of the oldest Turks alive and a borderline goth, yet it did, and you were left speechless because of it.

"Well...uhh, ok," You stammered, sliding off of him in sheer astonishment. "Since you asked so nicely." You honestly expected him to get off the couch and stalk off somewhere to be alone and brood like he always does, but you were pleasantly surprised by what he did next. Instead of abandoning his adoring lover on the couch, he stood up, stretched, and then proceeded to climb into your lap the way a child does to a mall Santa.

"Uhh...Vincent?" You mumbled in confusion, as he nestled his head into the crook of your neck, his hair tickling your cheeks as he did so.

"What?" He replied, voice muffled now.

"I thought you wanted me to get off you," You responded with a shrug.

"I did," Vincent told you, throwing an arm around your shoulder and pulling himself even closer to you, if that was even possible. "It's my turn now."

#ff7 #ffvii #final fantasy vii #final fantasy 7 #final fantasy #vincent valentine #vincent ff7 #vincent x reader #vincent x reader fluff #ff7 x reader #ffvii x reader #sorry it's so short #Fluff #fluffy #fluffy drabble #short ficlet #icycoldninja writes #requested #thanks for requesting

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theanonymouscosmos · 6 months ago

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Rook & Lucanis (Spoilers)

A little self-indulgent daydream of mine for Blathnaid and Lucanis. some spoilers within.

This isn’t a good idea. The words had been bouncing around in her head for days. Maker, he’d been so close to her she’d been able to smell everything Lucanis. The warm bitterness of coffee on his breath. The amber oil massaged into his hands. The faintest memory of hickory woodsmoke clinging to his clothes, his hair. She’d thought he was going to kiss her. She’d been sure of it. She liked to think she was an expert on knowing when she was wanted, and the dilation of his pupils and the way he’d leaned towards her had spelled certainty. At least it did, until his expression closed and he pulled away. It felt a little like being woken by having your blanket pulled from you – that same immediate cessation of warmth and comfort. He wasn’t wrong, necessarily. Getting involved with a professional assassin who also happened to be possessed by a spite demon in the midst of a war against ancient elven gods was… Probably not the best idea. She should be afraid of the possibilities. Mildly concerned, at the very least. She was neither.

There’s a fine line between bravery and stupidity, Instructor Woolfe had always reminded her. A good soldier knows when to be afraid. I think you’re lacking that common sense, girl. While she understood the point he was trying to make, she also disagreed with it. Or maybe she’d been born without the proper sensibilities of her species. There were a lot of things missing or not-quite-right in her head, and she was perfectly comfortable with that. On her own personal list of what made a good soldier was improvisation and a good sense of humor. Not that the latter was generally appreciated by the First Warden, who took her refusal to take anything seriously as a challenge to crack down on her even harder. She couldn’t help but wonder if her poor negotiation skills - or maybe the remark about the glare from the First Warden’s shiny dome being the reason he couldn’t see what was right in front of him - was the reason things had gone the way they had. If she’d been able to reach him, if she’d had the gods-damned charisma needed to make him see reason… They might have stood a chance. She was supposed to be some kind of leader. A person who commanded respect and action. In that, she’d failed entirely.

Not that it mattered any longer. The First Warden was dead, and two thirds of the Grey Wardens along with him. Weisshaupt was a smoking ruin, its ancient bones overwhelmed by choking tendrils of blight. The memory of it all, of seeing men and women she’d once called friends as well as comrades dying so senselessly, caused her throat to constrict. She’d been fighting back the grief for weeks, knowing if she faced it she would drown in it. There wasn’t time for drowning. There wasn’t time for anything. Not with the endless onslaught of the gods and their ongoing war hitting Thedas from every angle. Darkspawn swarming in the south. Minrathous overrun by the Venatori. The Antaam maintaining position in Treviso. There were more reports each day, and it was never good news. She might be built like a Taslin Strider, but that didn’t mean she could carry all the weight indefinitely. She was buckling, and she knew it. And there was nowhere she could go where it wouldn’t be seen or heard by some well-meaning twit. She’d rather be eaten by an archdemon than shed a single tear in front of Harding. The former scout seemed to be everywhere all the time, and had a knack for interrupting every single conversation Blathnaid was involved in. She’d taken to looking over her shoulder before speaking, anticipating a clinger.

Okay, so… Maybe her attraction to Lucanis was partly due to a need for distraction. Amidst the Warden ranks, that sort of distraction was a little easier to come by. In the confines of the lighthouse… Not so much. The assassin drank coffee to maintain control, and she wanted to drink the assassin like a fine spiced wine for the same reason. But the stress of running the Veilguard aside, and notwithstanding her dubious methods for handling grief, there were some genuine feelings developing there. She liked Lucanis. A lot. There was a very biased reason for her taking him on so many missions, or her lurking around the kitchen pretending to be hunting for a certain herb or spare mug. In addition to developing selective blindness, she’d drunk more tea and coffee in her life than she’d ever done before. She was developing a rather concerning tolerance to caffeine as a result.

She wasn’t used to feeling this way. Brief liaisons were easy. Predictable. They felt safe. Wardens came with an expiration date, and everyone knew it. The Calling could come at any time, though it tended to be when a Warden was older – and for this reason, and a hundred others besides – she avoided romantic entanglements. Most other Wardens were of a similar mindset. Those brave enough to have families were generally forced to eventually abandon them, either by dying in the fight against darkspawn or succumbing to the blight running in their own veins. It was always there, a part of them that never let them forget the nature of their sacrifice. She ignored it. Brooding gave one wrinkles, and it was difficult to seduce handsome Antivan Crows when one looked like an unhappy prune.

“Maker, I’m all jumbled up,” she said aloud. “Listen to me.”

Her voice woke her companion. The cat at her feet stretched, blinked up at her sleepily, and then dropped her head to resume her nap.

Blathnaid had found the little cat while investigating a series of murders in Minrathous. With her previous owner dead and the entire city in chaos, she hadn’t had the heart to leave the cat alone by her empty dish. That was the hard thing about death. Grown men and women understood it - expected it, even - but wee humans and animals couldn’t begin to understand. They didn’t have the capacity for it yet. Lucretia might have waited by that bowl for days or weeks before giving up, and it was one stone too many in an already overfull bucket. Blathnaid couldn’t fix what had happened. Taking in a lonely, hungry cat was about the only thing she could change. She’d chosen Treviso, and as a consequence of that choice… Minrathous had suffered. Neve would never forgive her, either. The detective might have returned to the lighthouse after a time, but it was clear some part of her blamed Blathnaid for the damage done to her city.

She could accept that. She could also admit to herself that her decision had been influenced by certain factors. Foremost had been the fact Tevinter’s primary industry was slavery, and the second… Well, he was tucked away behind the kitchen enjoying a fresh cup of coffee. What exactly could she have said to Neve? He spent a year imprisoned by the Venatori, tortured and forcibly possessed. I couldn’t let him lose everything again. Not just when he’d gotten some of it back. No. That wasn’t something she could admit to anyone. Not even Varric. He’d probably reason her through it. Don’t tear yourself up about it kid. Would’ve been the same if you’d tossed a coin. It was an impossible choice.

And maybe it was. But that wasn’t a very soothing rationale when she walked by the swinging corpses of dead Shadow Dragons and their supporters in the streets, or knelt in bloodstained mud to drop a few coins in a starving beggar’s cup.

She couldn’t breathe. That was another phenomenon that seemed to plague her constantly. It was as though her armor were too tight, dented-in by a lance and crushing her chest. Except even when she stripped down to her jerkin, the feeling remained. The other day it had struck while in Arlathan, and she’d made the excuse of needing to piss before ducking behind the crumbling walls of an elven ruin. She’d pressed her palms flat to the old stone along with her forehead, seeking comfort in the cool surface while she sucked for breath like a horse with broken wind.

But this was the lighthouse, not a great forest - and she could hear Harding and Taash just down the hall. Knowing the freckled nuisance's penchant for other people’s business, she didn’t feel safe letting her panic take hold. Knowing her luck, there’d be a timid little tap on the door followed by an oddly breathy voice asking if she was alright. No, she needed to get out of here. The only place she could think of that might grant her some peace was the eluvian room downstairs. No one went down there anymore, unless it was to travel. With the network stabilized, Bellara had other matters to occupy her time - like that atrociously arrogant elven archive, whatever it was called. Lucretia ignored her as Blathnaid gingerly extracted her feet from under a furry belly and made for the door. She felt dizzy from not enough air, the feeling of being crushed becoming one of visceral agony. Her Wicked Grace Face must have remained intact enough to avoid suspicion, because neither the orange-haired nosy Nelly nor the Qunari paid her any mind.

Alone in the eluvian room, she allowed herself to gasp for breath. She lowered herself to her knees before the glimmering surface of the mirror and unbuckled the thick belt around her midsection. It felt to tight. It was all too tight, too constricting. She couldn’t breathe. She even unlaced her tunic down to ribcage, hoping the cool air of the eluvian room would help. It didn’t. Nothing did, really. Not even stroking Lucretia’s narrow head or flipping through the illustrated pages of Davrin’s bestiary books. Her breaths were shallow, tight, and her vision seemed to narrow with each failed attempt at drawing in air. She saw them all in her mind, the memory clear and painfully defined. The dead on the ground. The still-dying begging for a merciful sword point. The screams of other Wardens, some distant and some too close. She’d had to ignore them all. She’d had to press on, the archdemon more important than their last few minutes of life. She was a Warden, after all. It was her job to stop the blight.

She hadn’t stopped a gods-damned thing. She hadn’t prevented any deaths, either. What had she done?

Nothing, an inner voice whispered. Nothing.

She couldn’t breathe.

“Rook?”

She was too far-gone to stop it. She couldn’t pretend to be alright. She couldn’t even stand. She tried to say his name but her tongue wouldn’t move, and no word slipped from between her grasping lips. Fingers closed over her right shoulder, and something changed. Shifted within her. Her lungs expanded, contracted. Some of the stars in her vision winked out.

“Lucanis,” she managed to say. “I don’t- I’m not-”

What could she say? I don’t normally fall apart like this. That would be a lie, wouldn’t it? I’m not crazy. Also a lie, given her recent state of mind.

“You don’t have to explain,” he soothed, squeezing her. The gesture brought her a little closer to herself, anchored her to her own body again. “I know. Believe me, I know.”

He did, didn’t he. This must have been how he felt, locked in not only a Venatori prison but also a prison of his own mind. He was sparing with his words when it came to describing his ordeal, but she could see how it affected him. She saw the desperation in his eyes in those moments before Spite took hold, and the frustration and shame that took its place once control had been resumed. She was mired in her regrets, a slave to her emotions… And he was fighting for dominion over his own body. What a pair they were. It was almost funny enough to make her laugh.

“Well this is awkward,” she offered, forcing a smile as she looked up at him. “Not the way a girl wants to approach a man like you.”

“Oh?” He arched an eyebrow. “And how would you approach me?”

“Well, being on my knees is part of it,” she teased, feeling more herself with every second. Flirtation was an excellent distraction, after all. “But maybe I’d have flowers in my hair and something sweet on my skin.”

“Go on.” His voice was pitched low, smoky with interest.

“And a silk dress,” she continued, “Something that shows just enough skin to make men wonder.”

“Ha,” he laughed softly. “I think I prefer you in your battle plates. They suit you.”

Now it was her turn to lift her brows. “Really? Have you got a thing for Grey Wardens, then?”

“One of them,” he admitted, and his fingers lifted from her shoulder to brush her cheekbone.

She was transported back to his room, remembering her back flat against the wall and his hand braced against it. Coffee and hickory and clove, and eyes so dark they made an abyss she wanted to cast herself into. She rose to her feet, suddenly very conscious of her deeply undone tunic and his proximity to her. What she’d give for him to slip that same hand between the laces to caress a breast. This is a mistake. As the self-proclaimed master of mistakes, this was one she could approve of.

“You’re a very distracting man,” she told him.

“It is I who has been driven to distraction,” he answered, and his fingertips brushed her waist.

She leaned into him and kissed him before he could rationalize his way out of this a second time. There was no hesitation. No resistance. He melted into her, and the way his body contoured to hers confirmed everything. He wanted her as badly as she wanted him, and all the unfilled longing had only added to the desperation. Honey and lavender cream, she thought, closing her eyes and wrapping her arms firmly around him. If he wanted to back out of this now, he’d have to break her arms to do it. His mouth was like the rest of him - warm and inviting, capturing her effortlessly. His tongue curled against hers and pleasure ricocheted through her entire body. Everything was forgotten but this. She wasn't displeased when his hands took to exploring her body - Clutching at her waist, smoothing over her hips, sliding over her buttocks and up her back. His curiosity made her laugh against their kiss, and she pulled away with the intention of teasing him gently - and then hesitated.

His skin had a shifting, uneasy hue to it - like reflections of light on a riverbed. When his eyes opened, it was not Lucanis’ eyes she gazed into, but someone else’s.

“Spite,” she greeted him.

“Rook,” he answered in that guttural, rasping voice that was nothing like Lucanis’. “What is this? I like it.”

“It’s called kissing, and I like it too. Especially when it involved Lucanis. I don’t suppose you could hand him back to me, so I could keep doing it.”

“You feel good. Warm and alive. Like firelight.” Two questing hands squeezed her in emphasis.

“I get that all the time. And while I don’t necessarily mind educating a demon on the ins and outs of human intimacy, now’s not the time. This moment is for Lucanis.”

“It’s never the time,” Spite grumbled, but the purple light in his eyes went dim, and color returned to the assassin’s face as he regained himself.

Lucanis blinked slowly, confusedly, seeming unsure of how he’d ended up held in her arms. Then realization took root in his dark eyes, and he twisted away from her in disgust. She knew the disgust wasn’t for her. It was for himself, and his inability to maintain control of his own body.

“Lucanis-” she began, but he shook his head. He was backing away from her like she had blight boils all over.

“Whenever I let my guard down,” he spat, arms outspread and fingers splayed to keep her at a distance. “He’s always there, waiting. He tried to kill Illario. Now he’s violated you. I can’t be around my family. I can’t be around you. It’s too easy to be my old self around you, and that is dangerous. I have to forget who I was. What I am and who I am are two different things. I’m an assassin. I’m the Demon of Vyrantium. I can’t be that as well as Lucanis Dellamorte.”

“Will you calm down,” she said exasperatedly, throwing up her hands. “Nobody was violated. I was enjoying myself. He didn’t change that, I’d just… Prefer it was you. We had a chat and I think it cleared things up.”

“He’s a demon.” His eyes were full of pain and shame, and she hated seeing it. She hated what the Venatori had done to him. Drinking darkspawn blood had changed her, true… But she was still herself. She was always in control. He’d been changed, too, only the thing that inhabited him was a whole other being.

“He’s part of you,” she reminded him. “And I like all the parts of you. At least, the ones I’ve met so far. There’s nothing about you that scares me, Lucanis. I was a little surprised by his visit, but not scared. Not disgusted. Honestly, I’ve faced worse. A demon with your face is a lot more titillating than a hurlock wearing a human-hide skirt.”

Despite himself, he smiled. Then he bowed his head and let out a sigh. “I keep wanting things to go back to normal. I want you to see me the way I’m supposed to be.”

“Normal is highly overrated,” she snorted. “And it’s something that changes. What was normal for you a year ago isn’t what’s normal for you now. Ten years ago, I was sneaking into stables for somewhere to sleep and living off rotten apples even the horses didn’t want. That was my normal. Now look at me. I’m the captain of a ship sailing straight into disaster, and losing battles is my normal. I think I miss the apples, if I’m being honest.”

“You are full of surprises, Rook.”

“You’ve got to stop calling me that,” she grinned. “Varric likes his nicknames, and I don’t mind him callin’ me that, but it’s just weird for you to use it now.”

“How so?”

“I generally prefer people who’ve had their tongue down my throat call me by my first name. Otherwise it’s all just a bit too tawdry, don’t you think?”

The Demon of Vyrantium blushed. How intriguing.

#veilguard #veilguard spoilers #da: veilguard #dragon age veilguard spoilers #dragon age spoilers #lucanis x rook #fluffy drabble

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extinct-fish · 8 months ago

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A little Ryomina Writing drabble.

Makoto awoke to find the skies in a deep silver, the home darker than normal. The open window brought about a fresh scent of autumn showers, the tip-taps of the drops meeting the leaves and a gentle breeze rustling the ochre leaves, the vermillion maple leaves sometimes coming off the tree.

Next to him was a sleeping Ryoji, whose neck was littered in bites from the affairs of the previous night. However, the intimacy of that night was not on his mind, as he simply stared adoringly at Ryoji.

Today is too good a day to do anything.

Of course, Makoto got up and dressed himself in a blue-and-black flannel shirt, Ryoji's black sweatpants, and then headed to the kitchen. Once there, he opened the cabinet to be greeted with two types of things for what he was making: Sobrino chocolates, which are used for Puerto Rican Hot Chocolate, and the packets of hot cocoa mix. After a bit of contemplation, Makoto decided to try the Sobrinos.

He fished in the bottom cabinets for a small pot, finding a decently-sized sauce pan. Makoto moved the sauce pan over to the sink, to which he turned on the water and filled the bottom of the pan only with a small amount of water, the height of the water barely reaching the half-way point of his pinky fingernail. He then moved the saucepan over to the stove and turned it on. Makoto opened the packaging of the sobrino and split a piece off the bar, which is a tough thing to do from experience.

He stuck the piece into the water, then put away the rest of the sobrino. he then opened the fridge and pulled out a jug of milk, which was half-empty due to consumption. Makoto set it on the counter, then went to the cupboard and grabbed two mugs of equal size. He then went to the bag of sugar he had on the counter and scooped out four tablespoons: two for each cup. Makoto pulled out a fork from the drawer and moved the slowly-melting chocolate around, allowing for it to melt quite well.

He then filled the two cups with milk and stirred the sugar around. Once the chocolate was mostly melted, he then poured the milk from the cups into the saucepan, then began to stir. the milk heated from being added to a warmed-up saucepan. Once the hot chocolate was adequately heated to the point of steaming, Makoto turned off the stove and poured the hot cocoa back into the cups. he then put the saucepan into the sink and the milk back into the fridge.

Carefully, he picked up the two mugs and carried them both to his room, where Ryoji was just waking up.

"Morning, my reaper," Makoto greeted with a soft smile.

"Mor'ing, funeral lily," Ryoji yawned.

"how're you feeling?" Makoto handed Ryoji a mug of hot cocoa.

"Oh, miserable," Ryoji said with a smile.

"Good."

The two stayed in bed, enjoying their hot cocoa. Ryoji pulled out a book and began reading, Makoto listening intently. It was a version of the Persephone and Hades tale that the two knew very well. Makoto loved when his dear read stories from Grecian times, hearing each story as long as it was Ryoji reading them. He was never a fan of Greek mythology before he got with Ryoji. Since then, he's become addicted to the mythos of the gods, the tales of muses, heroes, and mortals.

Eventually, the two had finished their hot chocolates and fell back asleep in each others' arms, enjoying the lazy day that the rain brought them. Autumn was their favorite time for this reason.

These are what Sobrinos look like btw

#persona 3 #writing #creative writing #ryoji mochizuki #makoto yuki #ryomina #drabble #fluffy drabble

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g00seg1rl · 3 months ago

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Made To

Pairing: Azriel x Eris Vanserra

Summary: A fluffy Drabble of Azriel and Eris appreciating each other smiling, just 450 words 🤭😘

They’d been laying together for countless minutes, sprawled contentedly in the afterglow of another memorable evening of fucking each other stupid on Azriel’s large bed in the House of Wind.

Eris’s hands were lazily rubbing Azriel’s lower back, trailing up as high as they could without nearing the base of Azriel’s wings; He might have been fucked stupid, but Eris knew he didn’t want to repay his serene dumbification with any unpleasant overuse of his milked-dry dick.

Azriel slowly trailed kisses down the edge of Eris’s sharp jaw, his luscious lips dragging Eris deeper into mindless bliss. He smooched his way into the crook of Eris’s neck, and one particularly light peck tickled madly. Eris tittered.

The Shadowsinger smirked, abandoning his efforts of soft-loving and progressing his delve into evil as he nosedived into the delicate crease of Eris’s neck, causing a shivering, silent wave of laughter at his antics Eris couldn’t have stopped if he had tried.

Shadows travelled like jestering smoke up his ribs to join in on the fun, and Eris– still too lost of his bearings– giggled openly. Tomato-red, Eris’s face broke into a smile, even as he sluggishly tried to stop Azriel’s torment, which only fueling Azriel’s glee.

Azriel excavated his head from nuzzling to peer down at Eris with an equally bright smile. “I didn’t think you’d be so ticklish,” he teased, his tone light and loving.

“I didn’t think you’d be spending your time tickling me when I’d come over,” Eris snarked with a tenth of his typical venom, warmed even further by the invariable expression of joy he still felt gracing his face. Azriel chuckled.It became a full laugh when Eris’s hands travelled down to squeeze the fat of his ass in retribution.

”So pretty when you smile, Azriel,” Eris remarked aloud, though he didn’t intend to. Azriel’s golden-brown skin blushed rosier and his dimples deepened, proving Eris’s point.

“You’re so pretty always,” Azriel, a bit breathlessly, simpered.

“Okay yeah, you’re so pretty always too, but I mean especially when you smile,” Eris explained as if it was to someone far more Neanderthalic than Azriel.

He brought a hand from Azriel’s lower left cheek to rest on his upper left cheek, brushing his thumb towards the joyful concave of Azriel’s sculpted bronze face. “These adorable cheeks of yours make me think you were made for it, smiling and laughing gorgeously,” Eris offered his evidence.

Azriel meeped and hid his redding face in Eris’s welcoming crook, robbing Eris of the lovely sight. For once, Eris chose not to complain, comforted by the reminding ache in his ass and the mental image of Azriel’s bashful, smiling face admiring Eris’s own tickle-induced laugh.

Beta read and author spanked by @the-darkestminds, I thank and love you dearly mami 💗

Azris babes and boo thangs: @astro-h0e-4azris @nus4y @jules-writes-stories @pippsmcgee @mistandmemories @fourteentrout @iftheshoef1tz @missblackstar @irithiadourden @sunstar-drabbles @icey--stars @molcat07 @3xolara @mudandmire @makinglongwordsslutty @wovendreamscapes @neciebee @talibunny30 @chunkypossum @fingerpoppingood @brunetterebel010 lmk if you’d like to be on/off my lil list, two fics for these two coming Very soon 🫡😘

#azris fluff #azris #eris vanserra #azriel #fluffy drabble #they’re just smiling dorks ur honor

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urfriendlywriter · 7 months ago

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specific tropes in romance that always heal something in me that it never broke

like, forehead kisses, soft love confessions, peppering kisses all over the lover's face. promises that are kept, hands those are held with a gentle love, and hugs that engulf the heart too.

or when they rest their head on your chest, or lean on you for support.

"your tears kill me," kinda thing. or when a sunshine character finally cries and bawls their entire life's hurt out into their comfort grumpy character (plus point, if the grump feels guilty thinking if they had done something to trigger this emotional outburst)

communication. no matter hard the topic is, how big your differences are.

listening to the other person yap

admiring their facial features and seeing not just the outer structure but the person that they really are.

them getting angry on ur behalf

cradling each other in hugs basically

feeling emotional walls break when you're with that one person particularly

gentle communication. yearning to do more for your lover (!!!!)

affectionate smiles and eyes crinkling with a smile that's directed specially at you.

finding their laugh contagious.

the feeling of being accepted, despite flaws and all

silent domestic acts like being in the kitchen together, dressing up together, them drying ur hair while u sit between their legs

occasionally stolen kisses

or one deep kiss that just lights your world and fulfills your soul and heart.

sleepily nuzzling into each other!!

reaching for each other despite being asleep, with mumbled endearments and whispers of need!!!

laughter coming easily by their side, like happiness is just another day to day thing (this can also be about self love. when u truly love urself and prioritize your own rights and cherish the fact that you're you. happiness becomes beautiful even in solitude)

their fingers buried deep in yo- OOPS.?! :)

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feralforfrank · 2 years ago

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hi, hope you‘re doing alright!

can you write something for ghost, where he‘s too tired to remove his eyeblack and kinda passes out on the couch.

so the reader removes it gently for him without waking him and cuddles up with him on the couch :))

just fluffy + the morning after

thank youu !! i love ur work

simon riley x gn!reader

cw nothing, just fluff

note thank you for reading my stuff, anon!!! much much love to you! this kindaaaa got out of hand...

The apartment was empty when Ghost entered it. After taking off his boots and balaclava, he dragged his aching feet to the bathroom. The shower was quick, but much to his annoyance, the face paint was still smeared around his eyes and quick. He swore he'd scrub it off after a nap.

The apartment was empty when Ghost entered. He called your name once but decided you were gone for an errand. He wasn't supposed to be back until Friday but was exhausted and had leave days to spare. Simon took off his boots and balaclava, inhaling the sweet scent of vanilla from the discarded pile of freshly washed clothes on the basket.

I'll hang them up later, he promised.

Simon took his clothes off, stepping in the warm water hurriedly. He quickly got out and dressed, for his eyes were drooping, and he was fighting for his life to stay awake. One look in the mirror made him groan. The smeared black paint had stayed intact around his eyes and cheeks.

I'll scrub it off later, he promised again.

He plopped on the couch, his eyes shutting and his fingers brushing away stray hair. He'd just rest his eyes for a while, so he won't look like a ghost when you return. That's what he said to himself. And then he slipped into a much-needed nap.

When you return, you almost have a heart attack. It takes your brain a moment to recognise the hunk of a man snoring on your living room couch. You chuckle when the distinct heavy snore escapes his parted lips.

You approach him, contemplating waking him up. The excitement of his return was about to make you explode, but you knew he was dead tired. You decided to let him sleep and wake him up when dinner would be ready.

You're about to walk away when Simon moves his arm from his eyes. You furrow your brows at the black paint staining his skin. He was probably too tired to scrub it off. It looks itchy and uncomfortable. So, before prepping dinner, you wipe it off for him. The process was quick, and you were as gentle as possible so you wouldn't wake him up. You ended up putting your night hydrating cream on his face so Simon would feel comfortable and fresh when he would wake up.

By the time his face is clean, the towel you've used and your fingers are black, and your eyes are drooping. You were surprised it had taken this much energy out of you, but between trying not to wake him up and your own exhaustion, it made sense.

You contemplated your options. The pile of clothes on the basket called for you to hang them, but your couch and the sleeping beauty of a boyfriend looked much more appealing. I'll just rest my eyes for a bit.

And so it was decided. You sped to your room, switching to your (Simon's) sleep shirt and climbed the tree you called your boyfriend like a koala. Simon shifted and whined but welcomed your weight, wrapping a bicep around you to keep you steady. You smiled and shut your eyes, snuggling closer to him. It wasn't long before you fell asleep.

Simon woke up sneezing. Strands of hair tickled his entire face. His right arm was numb from having squished it between himself and the couch. His face felt...clean. He rubbed his face, realising the face paint was gone. Instead his skin felt like yours when you put that expensive moisturising cream.

He cast his eyes down, a smile overtaking his features. You clung to his body, a leg hanging off the couch. Simon knew your shoulders would hurt from the weird position you slept in. He looked around. The only light source was the rising sun and the small light you kept on in the kitchen at all times. If he had to guess, from the pretty pink colour the sky was, in a few minutes, the sunrise would be seen from the roof of your building.

"Wake up, lovie." You groan. "Let's go watch the sunrise."

"Simon, what the fuck are you on about?" Your voice is bearly audible from where you've buried your face. "Let me sleep. I'm tired, Si."

He shakes his shoulder, pushing your face away and causing you to groan again, still half-asleep. "Don't you wanna watch the sunrise w'me?"

You don't speak for a few seconds, pondering if you should just go back to sleep. But his tone is pleading, and he sounds so cute.

"Ugh, okay." You drag yourself away from the heat of his own, a small smile on your face.

Simon smiles, touching his cheeks. "Did you clean my face, love?"

You nod, snorting. "Zero reflexes. You didn't even move. Military trained, my ass."

"Oi!" he faked insult. "I was jus' tired!"

You leaned to kiss him. "Sure, baby. Just grab a hoodie, might be chilly out."

He obliges, sulking in the process. "You laughing at me, love?"

You gasp, unlocking the door. Simon hands you the hoodie. "Me? Never!" You open the door and turn to him, pointing to the corner of his lip. "You have drool right here."

"What?!"

You're out of the door, before he can catch you, trying to stiffle your giggles at his stunned expression as you run up the stairs toward the roof. Simon doesn't hesitate to follow you, the smile on his face widening.

#simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x you #ghost mw2 #ghost mw2 x reader #ghost cod #ghost cod x reader #call of duty #call of duty: modern warfare ii #cod mwii #simon riley fluff #fluff #fluffy drabble #naewrites #naeanswers

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fromdove · 2 months ago

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you find him in your apartment. again. window cracked. boots still on. jacket slung over the back of your chair like it belongs there.

he’s sitting on your couch like he owns it, flipping through a half-read paperback he definitely didn’t bring. probably something you left lying around — some crime thriller he’s already tearing apart in his head.

“make yourself at home,” you say, dropping your keys.

he doesn’t look up. “already did. your lock’s still crap, by the way.”

“you say that every time you break in.”

“because it’s still true.” he finally glances at you, eyes tired but sharp. “what if i was someone else?”

“then you’d be bleeding on the floor right now.”

his mouth twitches. “cute.”

you toe off your shoes, drop your bag, move toward the kitchen. “what do you want, jason?”

“wow. straight to the point. no hi jay, how was patrol? want something to drink? here, take my couch and trample my boundaries some more?”

“you don’t drink anything that isn’t ninety percent caffeine or eighty proof.”

“true,” he says, stretching his legs out. “still rude.”

you eye him from the kitchen. his holsters are off, but the rest of the suit’s still there — the compression shirt, scuffed boots, scraped knuckles. he’s vibrating under the surface like he hasn’t slept in two days and isn’t planning to.

“you get hit again?” you ask, softer.

he lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “nothing important.”

“so yes.”

“do you want a play-by-play? i can act it out, real dramatic. throw myself against a wall. bleed on your furniture.”

“you already bled on my rug last month.”

“and it really tied the room together.”

you exhale through your nose. grab a glass of water, bring it over. he takes it without comment, drinks half in one go.

“why are you here, jason?”

this time, he doesn’t have a joke ready. his fingers tap the side of the glass, jaw tight.

“quiet,” he mutters. “it’s quiet here.”

you sit beside him. not close. not far.

“you ever gonna just ask to stay?” you ask.

“don’t need to.” he leans his head back, eyes closed now. “you always let me.”

“that’s not the same thing.”

“yeah,” he says, voice rough. “i know.”

the silence stretches. his foot nudges yours, casual, like he didn’t mean to. like he did.

“you gonna yell at me if i fall asleep here?”

“depends.”

“on what?”

“if you do that thing where you mutter weird half-words and twitch like you’re being electrocuted.”

he opens one eye. “that’s called trauma. look it up.”

“ever heard of therapy?”

“yeah. didn’t vibe with being psychoanalyzed by someone who’s never been shot in the face. weird, right?”

you huff a laugh. he shifts a little closer, not quite touching.

“you still smell like gunpowder,” you say.

“better than blood.”

“barely.”

he doesn’t look at you right away. just stares ahead like he’s watching something you can’t see. then, like it costs him, he says,

“couldn’t sleep.”

that’s all he gives you. not can I crash here? not I don’t want to be alone. just that.

but with jason, that’s enough.

you don’t ask. you just nod toward the blanket on the armrest.

“you want that, or are you gonna steal mine like last time?”

“wasn’t stealing. it was strategic heat distribution.”

“you’re unbelievable.”

“you say that a lot,” he murmurs, already leaning back into the cushions.

and still — he doesn’t leave.

not for hours.

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parkers-gal · 2 months ago

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take me home J.B.

pairing: husband!bucky barnes x f!reader

wc: 1.7k

trope: secret wife / secret relationship

warnings: not proof read. rip. i'll edit the mistakes tmr lol. this is another self indulgent piece bye

timeline: idk this is not a canon event but just imagine endgame never happened. i like to imagine him with the metal arm (not the vibranium one) but i think this can be seen with any

summary: the team discovers bucky's relationship with you when bucky searches for you in the hospital after hydra attacks new york

⋆˚✶˚‧⋆｡˚

“we just got the last of them on the east side. does anyone need backup?” natasha’s voice rings through the comms. tony’s response comes within a few seconds.

“air is neutral up here.”

“we’re just about wrapping up here,” steve adds on. “let’s reconvene on fifth and check in with emergency services.” he glances at bucky who stands on his left, stoically waiting for the next command. bucky nods at steve’s silent question, you ready?

they step over a pile of rubble. bucky reloads his gun, placing it back in its holster and starting a light jog as steve leads them away from the scene behind them. hydra had sent many reinforcements after the team had done a recon mission at an abandoned hydra base that was unknowingly more important to them than the avengers had initially realized. new york came to bear the consequences, just as the city always did. something about high populated cities… or whatever steve told the team as they were gearing up a few hours ago.

they turn the next few blocks and see sam land beside wanda and clint, his wings collapsing into his jet-backpack. tony joins them, already starting his updates.

“nypd called in the national guard to detain as many of the human reinforcements as they could,” he fiddles with some tech on his arm. “emt said graybar, seagram, and chanin had some pretty heavy bombings. victims are being relo-”

“chanin?” bucky cuts in. most of his teammates look at him with shocked faces. “did you say the chanin building?”

“yes, tinman.” tony retorts. “victims are being relocated to the closest hospitals in the area.”

“which ones?”

slightly annoyed, tony turns to look at him. “does it matter?”

bucky’s jaw clenches. “yes. it does.”

sam cuts in.“there’s five hospitals within a mile of here, there’s no way you’re going to know where one person went, bucky.”

“i don’t give a fuck.” he’s definitive and it shuts everyone up. “i want to know which hospitals.”

with a sigh, steve concedes and jogs over to the paramedic perched on the end of an ambulance, assisting a woman with a cut on her eyebrow.

bucky decides to make his way over too, only hearing the tail end of the conversation as steve says ‘thank you.’

“well?”

steve sighs again. “he said lagone is the closest, but frank ross hospital and tisch are taking in some too because the influx is so bad.”

bucky doesn’t even reply, jogging off in the direction of the first hospital and leaving steve in the middle of the road, stunned.

clint breaks the silence. “where is he going?”

“to the hospital, i guess?” steve sounds unsure in his response, still watching as bucky gets smaller and smaller as the distance between them increases.

“maybe we should go with him.” wanda suggests. “we still need to debrief and do our write ups.”

natasha gives her a side eye and wanda laughs.

“just following orders.” she exaggerates, teasing natasha and steve for their insistence on following the protocols.

“alright let’s go, then.” tony thrusts upward, sam following him up as everyone else begins to jog in bucky’s direction.

but bucky is fast. they don’t realize how much until they almost lose him two blocks over. they trail behind him as he bursts through the emergency room, charging towards the front desk.

“do you have a patient named y/n?” he begins to spell out your name letter by letter until the desk attendant interrupts.

“sir, i need you to step into the waiting room unless you need immediate medical care.” the room around them is a flurry of crying people, overwhelmed nurses, and helpless policeman who try to reorganize the growing number of patients.

“no, i need you to check if you have a patient under the name of y/-”

the team stands by the entrance, watching the interaction unfold but not quite understanding it.

“who is he looking for?”

everyone turns to steve assuming he knows, but his face shows just as much confusion. “i don’t know.”

“please,” bucky starts again. “do you have a patient register for today’s patients?”

with a click of her tongue, she hands bucky a clipboard with several papers on it. bucky’s eyes scan the names, worry etched on his face when he doesn’t see yours.

“sorry.” he mumbles, leaving the clipboard on the counter and turning around. he stops when he sees the team, but moves past them when he remembers what he’s doing.

anxiety is gnawing at him as he finds his motorcycle parked by the quinjet a few blocks away. he immediately drives off towards the next hospital, worried as ever that something has happened to you. you aren’t answering his calls, not texting him back, and he can’t find your location on the little app you taught him how to use. he doesn’t know what else to do.

the team can barely keep up, trying their best to help the people around them as they trail after bucky. they still don’t know what he’s doing or who he’s looking for.

by the third hospital, bucky is fed up and on the verge of a breakdown. he only has so much patience at this point, and sam is all too familiar with the signs.

“do you have a patient under the name y/n?” it’s the third time in the last hour he’s desperately asked a nurse at a front desk. he does the same thing, spelling out your name letter by letter until the nurse interrupts him.

“you’ll have to wait to check the registry list after all the patients have been attended to.”

“how long is that going to take?” his voice is laced with attitude, and he almost feels bad if not for the pit of anxiety swelling in his stomach.

“sir, you’re wasting my time.”

“bucky, c’mon, let’s go.” steve reaches to hold bucky’s shoulder, but he shrugs it off.

“no, goddammit!” he’s fuming, turning back to the nurse. “i need you to tell me if you have a patient, y/n barnes. i’m her next of kin.” he slams his fist on the counter. steve takes a step back towards sam, in shock at the information.

“does he have, like, a niece?” sam asks. “did he tell you anything about his sister? maybe she had a family after-”

“yes, i see her name listed here. only immediate family can see her.”

“i am immediate family!”

“sir, unless you are a parent or her husband, you need to wait until all th-”

“i am her husband!” he slams his ring down on the counter, gripping onto it like he depends on it, because he can’t risk losing you. “take me to see me wife right now.”

with a nod, she leads bucky down a hallway of rooms, turning left into the very first room. she makes her way back towards the front desk where steve has now approached.

“hi, ma’am. would you mind if-” steve gestures towards the room. the nurse’s jaw drops at seeing the vibranium shield, clint’s bow, and tony stark standing there with a partially deconstructed nano-tech suit.

“go right ahead.” she stutters out, watching the avengers trail after the man with the metal arm. they stop in the doorway, huddled as they watch.

“y/n?” bucky steps towards the hospital bed.

you aren’t even laying in it. you’re sitting on the edge of it staring out a window, back facing the door. at the sound of his voice, you whip around. tear streaks stain your face.

“bucky, oh my god-” you run into his chest, engulfing him in a hug. he sighs into your hair, smelling you and breathing in relief at the sight.

“you’re okay, it’s okay.” he coos, rubbing your back. “what happened? are you hurt?”

you shake your head, still nuzzled into his chest. you peer up at him, “paramedics found me unconscious. it’s just a concussion, but they brought me in anyways. i just have a couple stitches.” you gesture to your calf. “rough fall after i got knocked out, i guess.”

he nods, pulling you in for a kiss. it’s desperate and full of love and every emotion he’d felt in the last two hours.

“i thought- i thou-”

“no.” you cut him off. “i tried to find a phone but nothing was going through. i saw the weird alien dogs coming from a giant truck, and- and the hydra symbol was plastered all along the sides i thought maybe they-” you can’t even finish your sentence, too overwhelmed at the possibility.

“never.” he kisses your forehead, holding your face in both his hands. “they could never take me from you.”

you rest your forehead against his, inhaling the scent of your husband and gripping onto him because you never want to leave him again.

“so..” tony cuts in. “wife?”

“tony!” natasha scolds. “get back here!”

clint tries his best not to laugh but he can barely hold it in.

sam is next to join in. “when did this happen?” he looks at steve with a quirked brow. “did you know?”

“i swear i didn’t.”

“a wife.” sam repeats. “you didn’t know your best friend has a wife.”

“he’s a trained spy!”

“and a former soviet asset.” clint confers. “you’d think you would keep more tabs on the guy.”

steve rolls his eyes, turning his attention back to bucky.

“is she really your wife?”

bucky nods reluctantly, a little sheepish as you hold up your left hand to show them your rings.

“for four years now.”

“FOUR YEARS????”

“sam-”

“and you NEVER SAID ANYTHING?”

“guys” nat pays no mind to sam’s ramblings. “i think we can all agree how hard it is to live life as an avenger. it’s not like clint was exactly honest about his family, either.”

“i thought you were on my side!” he huffs.

“whatever.” sam pouts. “i wish i could’ve gone to the wedding.”

“we’ll cross that bridge when we get there.” bucky smiles appreciatively at steve, who starts moving back towards the exit. “maybe we can talk about this when everything settles down and she gets out of the hospital.” steve looks at you, really looks at you, for the first time. deep down, he’s glad his best friend found the one thing he’s wanted his whole life. “right bucky?”

bucky nods.

“okay,” steve smiles understandingly. “debrief is tomorrow at noon. don’t be late.”

bucky turns back to you as the team leaves your hospital room.

“i guess the secrets out.”

bucky nods in agreement. “i’m really glad you’re okay.”

you kiss him again, “take me home, bucky.”

⋆˚✶˚‧⋆｡˚

bucky masterlist

part two?

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scribbledswans · 3 months ago

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Sighs dreamily . Shedletsky love language being touch. [Headcanon]

I can just imagine this guy picking you up randomly and putting you on his shoulders like nothing... like his build would probably have you fooled into thinking he's not actually that strong but he is actually jacked, ripped, etc.

absolutely adores whenever you come to him for protection and is also #1 meatshield whenever you're too injured. If you have the capability to heal him in some way, he always makes a stupid joke about how you just like to patch him up [you do. you 100% do]. Number one guard dog up there with Guest tbh.

If you bury your face into his chest while cuddling he absolutely fucking melts. Bro is used to love and attention but the second it's from you it's like he's never been loved in his entire life.

Bonus doodles:

#forsaken roblox #shedletsky forsaken #homicidal porkchops #shedletsky x reader #headcanons #swan scribbles #swan drabbles #fluffy #forsaken fanart

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ticifics · 4 months ago

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“𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐭?”

James Potter x f!reader

Summary: His blue eyes shine behind crooked glasses, an angelic smile plastered on his lips, as if he weren’t the one responsible for the state you’re in now. As if he hadn’t been there, just a few hours ago, with his hot breath against your skin, his hands firmly gripping your waist while the world crumbled around you.

Warnings: husband!James, wife!reader, fluff, suggestive, no use of y/n, muggle au, est. relationship, a james full of teasing about last night

The smell of fresh coffee fills the room even before you open your eyes. The aroma is warm, strong, mixed with the buttery sweetness of something freshly cooked. It’s a comforting smell, a homey smell, the kind that belongs to lazy mornings. But as your body begins to wake up, something else takes over—a heavier, lingering warmth that weighs on your muscles, a vivid memory that makes your face flush before you can even stop it.

You shift under the sheets and feel it.

Your body still soft, deliciously sore in all the right places. A faint, lingering ache that makes your stomach twist in a way that has nothing to do with hunger.

That’s when James walks into the room.

His blue eyes shine behind crooked glasses, an angelic smile plastered on his lips, as if he weren’t the one responsible for the state you’re in now. As if he hadn’t been there, just a few hours ago, with his hot breath against your skin, his hands firmly gripping your waist while the world crumbled around you.

He balances a tray carefully in his hands, walking over to the bed with the expression of someone who’s done nothing wrong.

You narrow your eyes.

“Good morning, love,” he murmurs, his voice low, lazy.

You glance at the clock on the nightstand and blink at the time. “Jamie, it’s late.”

He sits on the edge of the bed, setting the tray aside before leaning in and brushing your hair away from your face with a distracted tenderness. His gaze sweeps over you, attentive, lingering, taking in every detail—the tangled sheets around you, his shirt slipping off one shoulder, the warm flush still burning on your cheeks.

The corner of his mouth curves.

“I know,” he replies simply. “I wanted to let you sleep a little longer.”

Your breath hitches when he leans in even closer, his nose lightly brushing against your temple before he murmurs, low and conspiratorial: “You seemed like you needed it.”

The blush spreads even hotter across your face, and you shift, trying to escape that knowing look. But the movement makes your muscles protest, a sharp, lingering ache running through your body in a shiver that escapes as an involuntary sigh.

James notices.

You feel it when he holds his breath for a second. His gaze, which was soft and attentive before, becomes something else. A darker, deeper blue.

His fingers slide over your exposed thigh under the sheets, a light, lazy touch, as if testing a theory.

“Are you okay?” he asks, and there’s something in his tone—a mix of genuine tenderness and shameless pride.

You want to kill him.

“Jamie,” you start, but your voice comes out weaker than it should.

He smiles. And it’s a dangerous smile.

The kind of smile that doesn’t match the man who, now, has prepared such a thoughtful breakfast, as if he weren’t the same one who tore you apart with no patience last night. As if he hadn’t pressed his body against yours, his breath ragged in your ear, his fingers digging into your skin, holding you exactly where he wanted.

But now? Now he’s all tenderness.

His thumb traces a lazy circle on your thigh, a touch so delicate it barely tickles. His gaze is absurdly soft, his voice low and warm when he asks, with a genuine concern that would almost be touching, if it weren’t so annoyingly charming:

“Does it hurt a lot?”

You swallow hard, trying to ignore the shiver that runs down your spine at the way he watches you—as if he’s memorizing every tiny reaction of yours. As if he’s remembering what he did to leave you like this.

James lets out an almost regretful sigh before leaning in, his lips ghosting over your temple, the touch barely there. “You should’ve told me if I was being too rough, love.”

Your face burns.

Indignation rises in your throat, but it dies on your tongue when he chuckles softly, his fingers squeezing your thigh just a little before pulling away, picking up the breakfast tray as if he hadn’t just dropped a grenade in the middle of your thoughts.

James places the cup between your fingers, blowing on the rim of the porcelain as if to make sure the coffee isn’t too hot for you. Then, he breaks off a piece of croissant, buttering it with a care that makes no sense, before holding it between two fingers and bringing it to your mouth.

You frown. “I can feed myself, Potter.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Can you?” His voice slides into something low and slightly amused. “Because last night it didn’t seem like you could do much on your own.”

Your stomach drops.

His laugh is light, satisfied, but it doesn’t last long—because as much as James likes to tease, he likes taking care of you even more. And that’s why, instead of pushing, he simply brushes your cheek with his knuckles, his gaze sliding from your eyes to your mouth.

“Please, love.” His voice is low, velvety. “Do me this favor?”

You sigh, closing your eyes for a second, and open your mouth.

James doesn’t say anything, but his gaze brightens when you finally bite into the bread. He waits for you to chew, to swallow, to take a sip of coffee, before leaning in a little closer and murmuring, his breath warm against your skin:

“Good girl.”

The heat that shoots up your spine almost makes you drop the cup.

James pulls away slowly, and his smile is dangerously close to smug as he sits back down, taking your free hand just to play with your fingers between his. He presses a quick kiss to your palm before saying, casually:

“Now eat properly, love. You’re going to need to rest.”

Your body relaxes for a brief second.

Until he adds, with an undeniably mischievous glint in his eye:

“…for a few hours.”

#james potter #james potter drabble #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james potter x reader #reader insert #no use of y/n #james fleamont potter fanfiction #james potter fic #james potter fanfiction #james fleamont potter #prongs x reader #romance #writers on tumblr #fanfiction #fluffy #aaron taylor johnson #atj #atj x reader

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cashmoneyyysstuff · 11 months ago

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♡ ring pops, chocolates, proposals ! ♡

katsuki loves you throughout the years.

a/n : BOOM !! surprise extra on your foreheads !!! this is basically a lil extra to rpp from katsu n readers pov ! i thought it was cute n i hope yall enjoy it too <33 !! much luv xx

fem reader, slight anime n manga spoilers ! food (candy and chocolate), jealous katsuki, mentions of dicks bc katsuki calls someone one, katsuki n reader are in their 20s, reader loves rain, katsuki does not, proposal, kissinggg, reader likes romance (implied sligthly), katsuki does not (kinda), soft n emotional katsuki bc I LOVE HIM FIGHT MEEE!!! RAAHHH!!!, short n sweet, proposal, lmk if i missed sum else !! <33

"for you."

katsuki, age 6 stands in front of you. no more words are said from him as he looks off to the side, beet red face turned away from you with outstretched hands. and clutched tightly in his hands, a ring pop in your favourite color.

you beam, immediately taking it from him. "thank you, katsu !" you chirp, quickly popping the candy into your mouth. katsuki's shoulders relax when he sees you've taken the offering from him although he doesn't meet your eye fully just yet.

"do you wanna share ?" you ask sweetly, already reaching out your candy towards him seeing that he didn't have one of his one in hand. he furiously shakes his head, pushing your hand back towards you.

"no ! and this one's for you ! i already got one.." he insists, shoveling around in his backpack before the crinkle of a wrapper grabs both of your attention. he pulls out the bag of sweet ring pops and picks out an orange one for himself. showing it to you while his eyes drift away from yours. you smile, seeing that you can both eat candy together now.

"i-it's a ring. so..you're my wife," he states. your big eyes widen at him and his glowing red cheeks. you look back down at the candy you've been eating pressed around your finger. it's bigger than the rings you see on tv.

you like katsuki. he was a little rough sometimes, and he could be a little mean. but he always played with you and shared his coloured pencils. he'd sit in the reading corner with you and hold your hand when you'd go on field trips.

"oh, really ?" your face heats, he nods. "want you to be my wife, cus haruto's always lookin' at you..a-an' you're my friend. not his." he mumbles bitterly. you like haruto, he's nice to you, but not as much as katsuki. katsuki was your best friend.

"does that make you my husband then ?" katsuki gets red to the tips of his ears and his nose is practically pressed into the collar of his shirt but he nods anyways. you beam again, the taste of the flavoured candy still on your lips. " i like that !"

katsuki blinks at you, chubby little cheeks pulling into a smirk and he drops to sit down next to you roughly on the grass. finally popping his own ring in his mouth.

"then you're my wife, yeah ?" you nod and he grins, you hear the candy clack around his mouth. "means you're only ever gonna be with me." and you nod again happily because you like that, you like the thought of only being with katsuki, because he's your best friend ever.

"mhm !"

"..forever." he adds tentatively and when you nod again he snickers to himself.

wait till stupid deku hears about this.

valentine's day was fucking stupid. and white day was even stupider.

besides them being the corniest holidays ever, katsuki finds the whole concept stupid. why do you need an entire day just to grow the balls to tell someone you like them ? and the worst part is that some fuckers have the audacity to try that shit with you.

katsuki remembers when he'd started despising the stupid holidays. it was in his first year of middle school and you opened up your locker to see some chocolates and a hand written note.

it was cheesy. and fucking stupid. but you smiled about it.

you fucking liked it.

the bastard even had the nerve to walk up to you at the end of the day, when you're supposed to go home with katsuki and end up coming over to his house to do your homework together (so he could stare at you) then stay over for dinner and play some video games (so he could touch you, poke your sides to make you trip up and pinch your nose when you end up losing to him) or watch a movie (so he could hear you laugh)

you were supposed to be all his. but instead you reassure him that you'll be back in a second.

and katsuki's antsy and so annoyed his skin prickles, but he swallows it down and drags his feet towards the gates as he waits, like hell he'll leave you alone with some limp dick bastard.

he did feel better when you said you rejected the loser, and he felt much better when you still ended up spending the afternoon with him. but he couldn't stop thinking about it.

valentine's day and such was so fucking stupid in katsuki's eyes. but maybe you liked it ? you never cared much for romance outside of those stupid rom-coms you like, but maybe there was more to it.

katsuki couldn't admit it to himself then, but he hates the holidays because there's a whole day for him to grow some balls and ask you out. and yet he couldn't fucking do it.

until his first year at u.a. and you hand him a box of chocolates.

dark chocolate, you specified. "since i know you don't really like sweets all that much." you said. the slight tremble in your voice made him swallow harshly. it felt different than the chocolates you'd handed out to your classmates earlier (which he was absolutely not jealous about. at all.) and the sheer size of the box compared to the little baggies you'd handed spoke too.

these were different. these were just for him.

his bag feels extra heavy when he walks home that day, and he's never loved chocolate more than the day you'd made some just for him.

"the chocolates weren't bad." was all he'd texted you (he wasn't sure he'd be able to talk to you properly on the phone that day lest you heard the shakiness in his voice.) but he knew what he needed to do.

and a few months later, white day rolls around and katsuki still thinks it sucks. it's a stupid holiday. but he spent the entire day making these stupid holiday chocolates for you. and his ears burn when he tells you that he only made these for you, because you're the only one he cares about enough to make some stupid chocolates for on a holiday he hates.

and you smile, so bright and pretty and so you. and katsuki feels like he's on top of the world when you shyly kiss his cheek, your hand in his grip on your way home.

he guessed he'll have to tell his mom about this..and maybe think about thanking her.

the day katsuki plans to propose to you, it rains.

and not even regular rain, a fucking downpour.

and due to prior experiences and feelings he’s had since childhood, he fucking hates rain.

but you love it. when you were kids you loved jumping in puddles and during morning time, you were drowsier and more prone to falling asleep when it was raining. when you got older, you'd always gasp happily when it started to rain, even though katsuki scoffed every time you did, mean mugging the window. he'd asked you what you liked about rain every year you were together, because it was cold, it made the ground sloshy and slippery and it made his quirk basically obsolete when he was younger and harder to use the older he got. there was absolutely nothing fun about that. and you'd always tell him the same exact thing.

"i like it 'cus i just do." you'd respond simply. he always raised a brow at you, but let it be. he couldn't change your mind about it and that was it.

with his proposal plans down the gutter, you're cuddling bed. you yawn in his arms, the tapping against the window putting you at ease. katsuki can admit it's not ear grating, but he'd much rather it just—not rain at all. and he wishes that so much more now, stupid fucking rain..ruining his fucking plans to fucking marry you..

"why do you like this shit so much ?" he asks you the question he's been asking you for years now as you lay against his warm chest. he doesn't mean to do it, only realising he's been asking you this practically all his life after the fact. and it makes him realise how long you've been together when you calmly respond the way you always have, cheekily smiling up at him.

you stick your tongue out at him "i like it 'cus i just do."

oh. fuck.

katsuki doesn't know exactly why that sets him off. maybe because the fact you've been together for two decades makes him emotional. maybe it's because throughout all these years your answer hasn't changed and you haven't changed and your feelings haven't changed for him. you still smile up at him, you did when you were kids when he'd asked you to be his wife with those cheap ring pops he'd begged his mom to buy. you did in middle school even when he thought you had a crush on izuku for a while and it made him act in such an embarrassing way he doesn't want to remember it, but he does anyway. you smiled up at him when he'd asked you out with the chocolates he'd spend hours working on, making them perfect for you. and when he'd told you to just move in with him because "you're basically here all the time anyway."

you've always been there, and he's always loved you. since the day you'd mesmerised him so much at six years old he had to talk to his mom about you.

katsuki absolutely fucking hates rain, and he doubts that'll change anytime soon, and it ruined his perfect proposal. but he can't hear the rain in his ears anymore when he abruptly flips you onto your back to kiss you. all he hears in the tiny giggles you let out when he smacks three wet kisses onto your lips before diving in for a longer one. i love you, they say. he can only hear your fingers sneaking into his hair and scratching at his scalp and the happy sigh you let out when he runs his tongue across your lips.

"m'breath stinks," you mumble drowsily, katsuki grumbles, pulling away just far enough to tell you "i don't give a fuck." and diving in again. you squeal in surprise. it's all he hears.

"fuckin' love you." he grunts against your lips, you hum, briefly able to pull away to catch your breath to tell him you love him too, and pulling him closer to you, the rustling of your sheets, yours and his, is all he hears.

"yeah ? you love me ?" he whispers, going to nibble at your ear. he's all over you, pressing sloppy kisses along your neck and you giggle, "mhm, love you." you sigh.

"fuck.." he breathes again, bringing his face back up to yours he presses his forehead to yours "fuck—so," he places another kiss to your lips, he gulps "so marry me."

and then you blink at him "what ?" you breathe heavily, softly chuckling. and the rapid beating of his heart is all he hears, but then your eyes go glossy and you whisper, voice broken and wobbly "..what ?"

he huffs to himself, his hands search for yours and intertwine when he finds them. like the day he'd pulled you over to his mom so he could ask her to let you come over to play at his house. like when you'd offered it to him when he took you to prom and you looked more beautiful than he could ever utter. he wonders how you'd look during your wedding. he's thought about it more times than he can count.

he takes a deep breath, not pulling away "i wasn't supposed to tell you like this, fuckin rain.." he scoffs. "but—fuck, i just—you've always been there, always been with me. since i was a snot nosed fuckin' brat and at times were you shoulda left my ass." he's forgotten the shit he wanted to say, simply blurting out what's on his mind. he feels a little bad, because kirishima had helped him with his speech, but his heart beats too hard to care.

"but m'glad you didn't. m'glad you didn't before and i'm glad you haven't now 'cus i love you so fuckin' much." you let out a giggle mixed with a little sob at his constant nervous cursing and it makes him smile lightly too.

"i know there are times where i've been a pretty shit boyfriend but..but i mean it, y'know ?" he sniffs a bit, and you shake your head "you've never been a shit boyfriend, suki. just a bit of a pain in my ass sometimes," you giggle but your eyes are overflowing with tears. he chuckles and fights back tears of his own with a sniffle again.

"yeah, major pain..but even still i—when i told you i wanted you to be my wife back when we were kids, i meant it. an' when that fuckin loser tried to ask you out on valentines day in middle school, i wanted to knock his fuckin' teeth in." he smirks, and you try to hide your laugh with a gasp "wanted to tell him you were mine."

"you're such a baby. i remember how pouty you were about it."

" i wasn't pouty," he rolls his eyes, his smile doesn't disappear. he wipes away a tear about to roll down your cheek before you can get his your shirt sleeve wetter then it already is "you could've just told me back then," you whisper, holding onto the hand on your cheek and pressing a kiss to his palm. katsuki feels his heart swell.

"i should've told you a lot of shit back then," he laments. he remembers when shigaraki put holes in him and the constant flashes of you on his mind. when he woke up in the hospital and you'd been there and he just couldn't tell you those three words. he'd figured that since you were both alive, he could tell you later when shit was less..messy.

except shit kept getting messier, and then when katsuki blew a hole into his heart he'd wished he could've told you how much he loved you.

but then he had gotten another chance, another chance to be with you. to be the best damn boyfriend in the world like he'd promised you he'd be, to make you happy, and he didn't care if shit got even messier, he didn't care to be scared. when he woke up with his mom and dad, a doctor and you. everything else blurred in his mind and despite your runny nose and your mix of how much you'd missed him and how worried you were but also scolding him on how much of a dummy he was, katsuki couldn't help but smile.

his mom still teases him about how the first words that he'd blurted out after waking up from his operation getting chastised by doctors were "fuck, i love you."

"but, i won't regret not telling you shit anymore. i won't wait any longer either," he kicks out of the sheets, reaching for the lowest drawer of his nightstand to pull out a little red box, grabbing you with him and placing you down right in front of him. he kneels down on one knee, like when he used to tie your shoelaces for you because you didn't know how to, and how he does to this day because 'you want to crack your head against the side walk so bad, but i don't wanna see that shit.'

he grabs your hand, and with a wobbly voice asks you "will you marry me ?"

and finally, katsuki stops hearing his own heart beat and hears the gentle tapping of the rain, still pouring, but it puts him slightly at ease when you nod and squeal out a 'yes !'

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