#[[ this will be a learning opportunity for both me and him. ]]

[m-robinavitch]

7 + robby x jack’s sibling

Trope Tuesday! Send an ask with a trope from this list with a character and I’ll make a shitty blurb for you!

Pairing: Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x Abbot!Reader

Trope: Best friend’s sibling

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, age gap relationship

“You should just stay the night man, it’s late and you’ve had a few drinks,” Jack said- pointing to the couch, trying to convince his friend to stay over.

“Yeah Robby, it’ll make me feel better knowing you’re safe,” you smiled innocently. Robby only had those drinks to calm his nerves, because every time Jack left the room or turned- you were on him. Kissing his neck or jaw or stealing his breath from his lips. He tried shoving you off, not because he didn’t want you, no- Robby and you have been fucking behind your brother’s back for years.

You were, what Jack liked to dub as- the accident. You were born when Jack, was in his late teens. A complete mistake on your parent’s part- apparently vasectomies should be checked every year or two. Oh well. You loved your brother. His name was your first word, you crawled into his bed when you had nightmares, you scribbled letters to him while he was deployed overseas, you were the flower girl in his wedding with his late wife, yours was the bed he crawled in when she died because he couldn’t sleep alone and needed to cry- and you never judged him for it.

Only, some years after he became an attending in Pittsburgh- he brought along a tall, attractive man one Christmas. You were home from college and instantly you were enamored with Robby. Jack thought it was cute at first- the way you took up Robby’s time and attention that first time you met. Asking him about being an ER doctor “I’m an ER doctor too? You never care about my experience?” “Jackie I’ve heard enough from you- go help mom in the kitchen” And about places he travelled to. “I was literally deployed all over the map” “This isn’t about you right now Jack” And maybe before he left you worked up the courage that only a delusional girl could have- you kissed him. You and Robby were the last ones awake and he and Jack and your sister in law were leaving in the morning so you kissed him. And he let himself kiss back for a moment- just a second before he realized how wrong it was. You were his best friend’s sister- the forbidden fruit. That didn’t stop the way he let you crawl into his lap and continue kissing him.

The next time was when you went to visit Jack and your sister in law that summer after the Christmas kiss. Jack was working mornings with Robby in the Pitt, and you had spent the day exploring the city by yourself before you made your way to the hospital to go home with your brother. Only he got more busy and-

“Robby can take you home- he’s already done for the day,” instant heart eyes- Robby could feel himself stuck between a rock and a hard place- also know as his dick because he’s been thinking about you since Christmas. He wanted to disagree but then there would be questions as to why so there you sat in some parking garage- straddling Robby in the driver’s seat while kissing along his neck. This was so wrong. So fucking wrong but you grind into him and-

The next time was when you came into town for a few days to explore job opportunities with some college friends. Jack and your sister in law made the guest room up for you but you insisted on spending the time with your friends in a hotel like young adults do. Only you lied to both your family and your friends. You spent those days in Robby’s bed for the first time- learning exactly what sex should be like with someone who cared about you.

And now you’re here, years later- visiting your brother for the weekend because you honestly missed him. And like he always does when you’re here- he invites Robby for dinner. And after everyone says good night you wait an hour or two, practically vibrating in your skin because once you know Jack’s asleep- you all but run to the living room. Robby’s awake. He always waits up for you. Hungrily kisses you while pulling you into his lap- throwing whatever thin shirt you wore to bed to the floor so he can kiss along your chest like he’s come to know you enjoy.

“Missed you so much sweetheart-” his earlier frustrations with you were gone- taken over by hunger and desire now. “Been thinking about this all fucking month-“ since you told Robby you were coming for a visit he’s been eagerly waiting. And as he groans just a little too loud when you sink down onto him- you cover his mouth with your palm while you set a fast pace on his lap. No matter how many times you’ve done this with Robby- it was always a stretch. Always made you tense and whine at the feeling. One day you’ll tell your brother that his best friend has been fucking his sister- just not this time.

[lsunstreakerl]

1.2k tiny gax verse! featuring rb, alphatauri, and a max who would not be able to put the pieces together even if they were labeled for him.

Dietrich is judging him. Christian knows this, standing in front of his slideshow with his fingers crossed in his pocket, trying to maintain his usual air of relaxed indifference.

"Red Bull is not an orphanage, Christian."

Christian is well aware. Somehow, Max has slipped in anyways.

"It's a business opportunity— an opportunity to sell. Think about it. A luxury brand? Red Bull already does things people wouldn't expect, a clothing brand would get people talking."

Dietrich sighs, looking fondly at him.

"And I suppose you have a potential model in mind already, don't you?"

Christian spreads his hands placatingly, relying on the charm he's spent years developing.

"A junior line, Dietrich. Can't you see the money?"

He watches the older man rub at the bridge of his nose, mildly exasperated.

"Christian, let it be known I am not doing this because I think it's a good idea— I'm agreeing because you've done a wonderful job for me over the years, and unfortunately you shine best when I allow you to let loose."

He sighs again, shaking his head.

"I'll have people get in touch with you."

Christian bites the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling too hard, dipping his head gratefully.

"Thank you, Dietrich."

"Get out of my office, Horner."

------

Toto has an eyebrow raised at him. Christian refuses to feel shame about it, watching Max sitting on the pitwall, letting them explain what they're doing. He's bundled up in AlphaTauri, beanie tugged low over his ears as he leans forward, eagerly watching Gianpiero's screen.

He's still in their junior team, but... Christian has high hopes for him. Gianpiero leans back and ruffles his hair through the beanie, laughing loudly as Max ducks his head, shoulders scrunching up. He's like a kitten— a particularly cute, scruffy kitten. The garage has taken a clear liking to him.

"I did not take you for the maternal type."

Toto sounds lowly amused, and Christian shrugs. It's not maternal, he's just...

Cultivating talent.

"He's part of our junior program, of course I'm keeping an eye on him."

Max rocks backwards to shout something, hands waving as he grins, and Christian and Toto both muffle a laugh at the immediate reaction from the pitwall, panicked hands darting out to make sure he doesn't fall.

"Is that why my junior driver is wearing AlphaTauri?"

He sounds annoyed, but not particularly displeased. Christian has spent years learning the difference. It soothes something inside of him, knowing that Max has been making use of all the clothes they've been sending him home with— and it's easy enough to pass it off as something they'd written into the modeling contract.

If there were also some pieces slightly too long for Max's legs, maybe better suited to taller adolescents... it's an easy mistake to make.

"He wouldn't wear it until the other two were taken care of."

"You spearheaded a fashion brand because you were worried he would get cold."

Christian presses his lips together, carefully watching Max and GP talk through something on the monitor. They seem to get along well— something for him to keep an eye on.

"Driver comfort is one of my priorities."

Toto hums, still sounding amused.

"You are like a mother bear."

Christian is so caught off guard his face falters, nose screwing up as he turns to stare incredulously at Toto.

"Excuse me—"

------

It's chilly outside. For once, Max doesn't feel it biting into his bones. They have heat on in the flat, because they can afford it. He's curled up in a thick sweater, a deep olive color, and he nudges a toe out to poke George in the calf.

The other boy has a pair of Max's sweatpants on. They were too long for him in the modeling shoot, but production had told him to take them home anyways, something comfy he could wear around the house.

They fit George perfectly.

George looks up from his book, headband pushing his hair back into a curly halo. He looks stupid. Max has a photo of him looking like that as his contact photo.

"What?"

Max pokes him in the calf again. He doesn't particularly want anything, he's just... bored.

"Nothing."

George huffs at him, tapping the book lightly against Max's foot.

"So you're just bothering me?"

Max shrugs, rolling over on the couch to tuck his head into George's side, feeling his arm drop around his shoulders.

"I'm warm."

It seems so simple a statement.

For them, it's everything.

------

"Max!"

Max hasn't even made it through the door yet, and Alex is shouting at him.

"What!"

He has a takeout bag draped over one arm, and a duffel full of clothes slung across his shoulder.

"Dibs on the sweater from your instagram story!"

He scrunches his nose.

"I just got home."

Alex comes in from around the corner, wiping at his hands with a rag. He must have been doing the dishes— a dishwasher is next on their list of things to get.

Things they never thought they'd get to have.

Max thinks, trying to remember which one he'd been wearing when he posted the silly photo to his private story. Charles had sent a laughing emoji and one other one...

"Oh! The grape one?"

George sneaks in behind him and takes the takeout bag, setting it on the counter.

"Are you talking about the purple one from earlier?"

It'd been a little big for Max, hem of the sleeves landing closer to his fingers, but it had also been soft, heavy and comfortable around him.

Alex nods, helping Max heft the duffel onto one of the chairs. He unzips it carefully, shoving his hand in to try and find the thick fabric.

He passes the sweater to Alex, who pulls it on immediately, smiling wide. It lands perfectly at his shoulders, still slightly oversized but in a way that looks intentional. It looks good.

George is pink. Max rolls his eyes, stepping on his toe as he pulls Alex into a hug.

"That one is communal, jackass. I want to wear it sometimes too."

Alex ruffles his hair, and Max leans into it, deliberately ignoring George's retaliatory pinch at his side.

"Communal purple sweater, got it."

------

Charles blinks at the suitcase Max has opened on the floor. His head swivels from the suitcase to their closet, where the rest of Max's clothes are.

"Do you own anything that isn't AlphaTauri?"

Max pauses.

"Uh. I mean, I have been modeling for them since I was a teenager."

Charles looks weirdly at him.

"Did you get to keep everything?"

Now Max is looking weirdly at him.

"Yes? That is normal?"

"No?"

Charles sounds deeply confused, crouching in front of Max to look him in the eyes.

"Max, that is not normal. You are telling me Red Bull let you keep everything? From every shoot?"

Max isn't sure why this seems so difficult to comprehend.

"Anything I wanted, yes. But I always had to take something. Very helpful for the season drops— sometimes things would not fit me, but they would fit George or Alex. It was nice during the winter especially."

Charles' eyes soften with understanding, and he tugs Max forward gently into a hug, arms clinging tight around him.

"Oh."

Max doesn't know why he sounds sad. AlphaTauri is a nice brand.

"You can always wear some if you want, Charlie."

Charles laughs, sitting back on his heels.

"I don't think Ferrari would appreciate that very much."

Ferrari does not give Charles a complete seasonal wardrobe, so Max doesn't care what they think.

[81pastrys]

Unplanned

Part 4 / 5

Summary— The racing season kept Carlos from experiencing a lot of his baby girls first year and he learns that he isn’t attuned to her needs

Warnings— tiny bit of self doubt from Carlos if you squint

A/N— apologies it took so long

Series List

Main Masterlist

The birth timed beautifully with the winter break. Rosa was born a week after it had started, allowing them time to adjust to the new life. They had settled in Monaco with a nursery and master bedroom completed a few days prior to her water breaking.

Now they had gotten settled back in with the newborn, both of them completely confused on how to take care of her. They were given a plethora of information packets and such but most of it was finding their own rhythm.

“She won’t calm down?” Carlos asked, his wife looked tired, exhausted, and overall not happy at the moment. Rosa had been wailing for nearly an hour at this point. She was fed, changed, rocked, but nothing would calm her down. “Come see corazon.” Carlos cooed, taking the baby from his exhausted looking wife.

Carlos tried just rocking her but obviously that didn’t help. His wife took the opportunity to get some rest, leaving him to figure it out. He read so many articles before on newborns and how to actually care for them before the hospital, just to get a general idea.

He gently moved the little girl around to comfortable position for both of them and pat her diaper while cooing Spanish nothings to her. “Sí, mi corazon, te amamos mucho.” (Yes, my love, we love you very much) He got her to die down the sobs to whines and realized she needed a bit more to calm down.

He sat down on the couch and put her next to him, taking off his shirt and her onesie. He grabbed a soft blanket from the opposite side before lying her on his chest, then draping the soft blanket over them. She whined a little more before sighing and completely settled into his warmth.

“Eso es todo bebe.” (That’s it baby.) He continued to pat her bum to sell the deal and got her calmed down for now. His wife emerged a couple hours later to the sight.

She hummed happily and made them both dinner. She also had time to pump for the newborn. Carlos had rested a little, not too deep into sleep as to know if Rosa began to stir. Once his wife was done with her motherly duties she woke him up, keeping a watchful eye on them both.

“Hola cariño, did you rest well?” He asked. She nodded and caressed the newborns head gently. “Just needed some time with her papa I suppose.” He joked lightly.

The racing season was brutal, she chose not to go to all, just their three home races: Monaco, Britain, and Spain. That way they could stay with family or at their own home and she wouldn’t have to worry about hotels and such.

Rosa was a great flier, maybe even enjoyed it. She also enjoyed all the love from her grandparents. Carlos loved having them at the select races and made the most of it with them.

The garage enjoyed their company as well, she was respectful of their space and knew not to be distracting for Carlos. Rosa did not understand this, not even being 1 yet.

“Schatje! I missed you!” Max said quickly walking over. They had just arrived in Silverstone and they were walking into the paddock. Max had been promoted to the Red Bull’s senior team early on so he didn’t see Rosa in the garage.

She babbled happily as he took Rosa from her mum and he bounced and played around. “How’s your German battle going?” She joked. Max rolled his eyes and smiled.

“He’s more fighting his teammate if you ask me.” Max replied. Carlos caught up to his wife, daughter, and ex teammate before the conversation continued— having Been stopped by a Renault member before he could greet them.

“Hola Max.” He said out of breath. Rosa heard the accent and whipped her head around and reached for him. “Ayy, mi corazon.” He smiled. It was a Saturday and they hadn’t seen him yet. Their plane landed the night before but with Carlos already situated in a hotel— they stayed at her parent’s house. “Mi amor.” He greeted his wife with a kiss.

Rosa whined and curled up in his arms more. She wanted the attention on her. Carlos cooed to her and they walked to Toro Rosso. She clung to him like a koala for the time she could.

When his wife tried prying Rosa away so he could change, she lost her mind. His wife couldn’t get her hand to unclench from his team kit and he realized the severity of the situation. “Mi corazon, déjame ir.” (My love, let me go.) He said soft but strict. She listened because it was her papa saying she wasn’t listening.

“Thank you darling, papa will be done in a few hours.” Her mum cooed. She added a few comforting back rubs and her daughter whined and pouted.

All the races they went to were like this. Rosa would cling to Carlos and fuss until he could hold her again. Once the day was over they went back to her parent’s house, it was easier than to let Rosa’s separation anxiety continue.

“Mi corazon, te amo.” He cooed. It was late, he bathed her, changed her, fed her, and was now getting her settled for bed. He had his finger placed over her pacifier so it didn’t slip out as she sleepily suckled. He walked around the dark room until she knocked out, her hand losing its tight grip on his shirt as she drifted off.

He placed her in the travel bassinet and switched the monitor on. He went back out and ate dinner with his in-laws and wife. “She misses you.” His wife said.

“I know, I hate being away.” He pouted. The night went smoothly, no interruptions and peaceful sleep. The next morning she was still asleep when they had to get ready so they took their time to bask in the time they had just the two of them.

“Te amo, Carlos.” She whispered to him, she was cuddled into his chest. He repeated the words and they heard Rosa stir. “Seems like she’s awake.” She giggled. They got out of bed and Carlos grabbed his little girl.

“Buen dia, mi corazon.” (Good morning, my love) He said softly. She laid her head on his shoulder and sighed, holding her pacifier to her mouth with one hand and the other gripping his shirt near his shoulder as she woke up.

Once the season ended and he was home she settled more. They invited a few drivers and family to her first birthday. She was confused but loved the sugary food that came with the celebration.

The break went well, no trips, just being at home as a little family. Rosa wasn’t exactly familiar with Carlos’s parenting style as much as her mama’s but she made that clear. Whining to show her dissatisfaction and then her mama coming to correct Carlos.

“Carlos, amor, what are you doing?” He was trying to stack blocks with Rosa but ended up stacking them without her help and she just stared at him. She knew how to do it but in her mind she thought he didn’t.

“We’re stacking blocks.” He said casually. He unstacked them and left them alone for his wife to scold him. Rosa quietly stacked them back and clapped, something her mama used to do. He watched her, not thinking she could do it.

“Carlos, she’s one.” His wife laughed at his surprised face. Rosa babbled and crawled to her mama. “Huh darling, tell papa you can do it by yourself.” She cooed.

“Papa.” Rosa cooed and reached back for the Spaniard. He grabbed the little girl and held her high in the air. She giggled at first and then suddenly realized how high she was and began panicking. She whimpered and whined until Carlos brought her back down.

“Lo siento corazon.” (I’m sorry, my love) Carlos cooed. His wife shook her head and returned to laundry. Ross cuddled into his side and suckled on a few fingers. “Ay, no hagas eso.” (Hey don’t do that.) Her lip quivered as he took her fingers from her mouth.

She burst into tears and mama returned. “What’s the matter darling?” She cooed grabbing the girl from Carlos. She repeated the cuddle and fingers to her mouth motion and Carlos once again removed her fingers. His wife swatted his hand away and she went to find a paci to replace the fingers.

“I’m sorry amor.” He apologized. She told him there was nothing to be sorry for and continued her day as if he wasn’t there. He shadowed her, seeing what she does day in and day out.

“Carlos, you don’t have to look over my shoulder all day.” She teased. “Here, go read Rosa a book in her room, she loves picking her own and sitting in my lap in the rocking chair while rocking.” She explained for him.

He nodded and scooped Rosa up. Once in the nursery he set the girl down and she picked a book for them to read. She handed it to him and held sat in the rocking chair, it squeaked from the overuse and he chuckled. “Let’s read a book together.” He said smiling. He put her on his lap and read the book.

He couldn’t even do that right apparently. Rosa liked to linger on pages and look through the scenes that were illustrated. Carlos would read the words and flip the page, without lingering. Rosa pouted as he continued and that’s how her mama found them. Carlos oblivious.

Her mama sighed and grabbed one of Rosa’s favorites before sitting crisscrossed on the fluffy rug. Rosa scrambled to get off Carlos’s lap and into mama’s as she began reading and narrating the illustrations that Rosa pointed at.

Carlos sighed now, deciding to shower and leave them be. He missed milestones and doesn’t know what his daughter even likes to do daily. After his shower he heard giggles and splashes.

“Are you popping the bubbles?” He heard. A small ‘sì’ with giggles that followed and he awed. He didn’t even see it to know it was absolutely adorable. “I think papa is done showering, are you ready to get out?”

“Papa done?” Rosa questioned. Her mama explained again and he heard the tub start to drain the water. After a few minutes they emerged from the bathroom, both with smiles. “Papa!”

“Hola mi corazon, todo limpio?” (Hey my love, all clean?) He asked. Rosa looked a bit confused until her mama whispered what he said in her ear. Then she nodded at him.

“Let’s get dressed and then we can have big, big snuggles in mama and papa’s bed hm?” Usually Rosa wouldn’t sleep with them but Carlos seemed to need that comfort tonight. Rosa agreed and the three of them went to her nursery. Once she was diapered and dressed and well loved, they headed to the master bedroom.

“You get dressed amor, I’ll stay with her.” Carlos yawned. His wife giggled before giving him a kiss and disappeared to shower and get ready herself.

Carlos cozied himself on his spot and Rosa pouted at him from mama’s side. “Mine.” She mumbled. He gave her a confused look until she crawled to lay on top of him.

“Qué es esto?” (What’s this?) He asked chuckling. Rosa giggled while sprawled on top of him. He started ticking her gently and she burst into a fit of laughter. She yawned and then placed her paci in her mouth and scrambled the bed again, seemingly looking for something that isn’t there.

She whined and looked to her mama as she reappeared. “Lobo mama.” She mumbled through the pacifier. Her mama knew exactly what she was referring to and scooped the stuffie into her baby’s hands. A wolf head on a small square of blanket that had Rosa embroidered on it.

“Lobo?” Carlos asked. “Who gave you this mi corazon?” The little girl was too tired to recollect who gave it to her and just laid on his chest again, sighing at the warmth of him.

“Blanca gave it to her when we went to Spain.” His wife answered. “Said you had one when you were little.” Carlos rubbed his baby’s back and kissed her head, wishing her goodnight. His wife joined the bed and Rosa was sound asleep by then.

“She seemed upset that I was lying in my bed.” Carlos inquired. His wife let out a small chuckle and kissed them both.

“That’s her side of the bed when you’re gone amor.” She whispered.

Don’t hate me- part 5 will be a time skip.

@il0vereadingstuff @angelluv16 @pandabiiissh @itznotsophia @justaf1girl @widow-cevans @kallanfiona @angstynasty @san4117 @1dloverrxo @mayax2o07 @celestialend @sol3chu

[morbidlcve]

bucky barnes dating a book girlie (a headcannon):

a/n: this idea came to me scrolling through my fyp.

wc: 0.7k

pairings: Bucky barnes x reader! gf

cw: brief mention of loss, fluff.

Dating a reader girl for Bucky definitely means more downtime. There are days when you would like to go out and do things, but most days/ evenings are spent at home with him filing reports, doing meetings, while you sit reading your book. Bucky, knowing that one of your love languages is quality time, means just sitting in the comfort of each other, whilst each of you do your own thing. Bucky can be watching TV while you are snuggled up to his side, his arm around you, reading your book. He would never admit it, but it's the quiet domesticated life he always wanted. 

There have been countless times where Bucky has come home to you crying over the events that took place in your book. The first time it happened he looked at you for a moment slightly amused before he wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you effortlessly into his lap. He pressed kisses to the side of your head, trying not to find the situation at hand funny. He closed your book, careful to place the bookmark in the page you had been reading before setting it down on the coffee table. “It’s just a story my love, it’s okay.” he would whisper, rubbing gentle circles against your back. Over time, he learns that the human brain is unable to separate fiction to reality. When he does, he's extra attentive towards you

Bucky loves to spoil you. He takes just about any opportunity that he can to do so. He’ll bring you flowers home with him from work every other week, keep your perfumes stocked up, your shampoo, you name it. But he loves taking you book shopping. It’s his favourite pastime, when it's only because he loves seeing your face light up when you spot one of your favourite authors' new releases on the shelves, or talking his poor head off about what books you've read, pointing to them on the shelf, what books you liked and didn't like. He encourages you to get the ones you want, and without batting an eye, he pays for them, knowing that your smile is waiting for him when he looks back at you. There have been times when you have spent hours walking around the bookstore, and he gladly walks around with you. 

Your favourite thing about him, though? Is when you’ve finished a book. He takes his time asking you about it, what your favourite things were, and what you enjoyed. He lets you talk his ear off with your opinions on the story with your legs across his lap, his hand stroking the lengths of your calves. 

One time he walked into the little library room, you didn't outwardly claim as yours since you moved in, but has been ever since. He noticed that all your shelves were full and there were books piling on the shelves and on the floor. You were out with some of your family that day, so he took it upon himself to go to Ikea and buy you more bookshelves in the same make and model of the ones you already have and build more for you. Once he was finished, he laid the homeless books on the floor in front of your new shelves, knowing you like to organise them in your own little way. 

Bucky goes above and beyond for your birthday. There was a time when you woke up to see the exact amount of books to your age all wrapped up (to the best of his ability) waiting for you to open them, along with other book trinkets you had in your basket, which he sneakily screenshotted on your phone and airdropped to his so he can get them for you. 

Having a reader girlfriend means catching you falling asleep with your book in your hand more often than one would think. He could just get home from work and see you passed out in bed, on the couch, on the floor with your book in hand. Careful so you don’t lose your page, Bucky would slide the bookmark in for you and tuck you into bed or better yet, carry you to bed. 

There are also times when you don't sleep. “One more chapter” you would say, both of you knowing damn well that that is a complete and utter lie. It would be morning time when Bucky would wake up and catch you still reading. Later on that evening, you would pass out early with your head in his lap. 

When you can't focus on reading, Bucky will offer to read it for you. Your head on his lap, legs in his lap, head on his chest. He would pick up where you left off and read until you fall asleep or it’s time to do something. 

[beabadoobee-lober]

Foreign land (Based on this req)

Gojoxfemreader!

A/n- not my best work sorry it took so long to come out

Trying to fit into a place where you don’t understand the language is very tricky, so everyone you knew wondered why you would travel from your small hometown where everyone knew each other and go to Japan, where you don't know their culture or language. But to you, this was a fresh start from everything you originally knew; that's why you jumped at the opportunity to go to a college in Japan.

The start of the school year was..Well, it was tough, not knowing the language made it extremely hard to make friends or even communicate; so to save yourself from embarrassment, you decided to distance yourself, which was fairly easy because no one even knew you to begin with. This allowed most of the year to pass peacefully, and it also helped you start learning Japanese as you became accustomed to the environment.

What didn’t make it easy was Satoru Gojo, the snarky frat boy of the school; he would always go up to you for some reason, although you didn’t entertain him, afraid of your lack of knowledge of Japanese.

But to Satoru, he figured you were just a shy girl; someone he could tease and make fun of

You were walking to class as usual, but a little fast-paced since you didn’t want to be late, and find your seat with eyes watching you.

Which was a horrible idea because now you're all on the floor after you accidentally bumped into someone. Shit.

“You ok?” she questions.

English?

“Y-yeah I’m fine, thank you,” you stutter shyly, this being one of the few interactions you’ve had, “Where are you from- sorry that's a weird question..”

She smiles softly and extends a hand to you, and you grab it hesitantly. “Don’t sweat it-” once she says where she's from, you can’t help but get happy; she's very close to your hometown.

“No way, me too!” you exclaim with happiness.

You two babble nonsense and figure out you both have a ton in common.

Secretly, Satoru was hiding in a corner snickering to himself; here he thought she was just shy and had a crush on him or something, guess he thought wrong.

He watches as you leave your last class of the day, and he goes up to you casually.

“Found out your secret,” he grins ear to ear

English?

You didnt know Satoru spoke english.

‘You don’t speak japanese!” he exclaims, you immediately shush him,”How did you fidn out?” you mumble embarrassed.

“I heard you talking with that new exchange student, I didn’t know you weren’t fluent in japanese why didn’t you say anything?” he questions you placing a hand on his hip

“I-i dunno its just embarrassing…” you muttered under your breath

“Nah thats not embarrassing”

“Just don’t tell anyone” you sigh

“Don’t worry your secret is safe with me, but you owe me one” he shoots you a cocky grin and walks away

[letmetellyouaboutmyfeels]

Director: So my interpretation here of the relationship is that Bea and Benedick - oh hey that’s so funny your name is Ben ha ha anyway - totally slept together at one point and Benedick treated it as casual and wouldn’t commit and that’s why they’re like that at each other.

Winter: *stuck on the images THAT immediately gives him*

Jones, face in hands: Could we maybe give my character a backstory that WON’T remind half the county of the times I forced them to dump me because I was too focused on my job?

[ropes3amthoughts]

DunMeshi fanfic authors/fan artists, have Senshi and Kabru cook together and my life is yours

[waltzing-rats]

It seems that merging completely unrelated hyperifxations of mine has become the jist of my art so BEHOLD ‼️‼️ HTTYD GYOMEI

@trippygalaxy

[littleseasalt]

"forever is a bad dad to richa-" SHUT UP!!!!!

[ectoplasmer]

finally made the banana chocolate cookies I kept saying I would make because I legit would’ve gone insane if I spent another day doing nothing and now I’m thinking of baking with luke and raphael,,,, sniffles

[obligatory-name-change]

once again thinking about sunandmoon from hit game fnaf: what if we just got rid of the gameplay loop

[homunculus-argument]

When it comes to high-context and low-context cultures, where one has the expectation of people understanding specific subtle nuances of what someone says, and the other has the expectation that everything needs to be explicitly said to be understood, I've heard plenty of people from low-context cultures ask "why not say what you mean and mean what you say then, why would you have to speak in riddles?" about high-context ones, like people of the latter type are just being cryptic and esoteric on purpose.

But culture does not consist of things you do on purpose, it is just the way things are done where you were raised. And when you were raised in a high-context culture, the thought of needing to explicitly state something instead of using some phrase or expression that you've learned to use comes as a culture shock, too. It's not "fuck you for not correctly understanding my riddles three", but "oh shit, I hadn't occurred to me that I would need to say that out loud."

The first time I went on a business trip to the US, my partner came with me, and we immediately discovered that he does not fare well on long flights. So when my publisher asked me about future trips, inquiring whether my partner would be coming with me, I asked him. He said that he would, if the flights weren't such a problem - he would need to travel in some way where he could get his feet up or lay down during flights, like business class or first class. Being also a finn, I understood what he meant and relayed the message as is to my publisher, not considering that they might not.

To both of our surprise, they started to actually look for first class tickets for us.

Finnish culture is a high-context one, people don't talk much and aren't very confrontational. Being demanding and putting someone else into a position where they're forced to be upfront or demanding is rude. And in finnish, saying "this would only be possible if these entirely absurd/completely impossible conditions were met" is a polite way of saying "no". You are simply explaining why something cannot be done, without either saying an explicit "no" or seeming like you're making up excuses. It offers the other party an opportunity to agree that these conditions cannot be met, so neither party will come off as confrontational or demanding.

Both me and my boyfriend considered it self-evident that the request was absurd, and could not be read as anything but a polite way to decline. It had not occurred to me that an american's natural response to "it would be impossible to do this" is to start figuring out how to do it anyway.

[quitesins]

Under Your Skin

Masterlist | AO3

Tags: 18+, Nsfw, Smut, Oneshot, Female!Reader, Timeskip!Bakugou, Pro Hero!Reader, Explicit Sexual Content Frenemies to Lovers, Sharing Physical Sensations, Phone Sex, Masturbation, PiV sex, Jealousy, 5.8k

When you and Dynamight get hit by a quirk that forces you to share all your physical sensations, you learn a bit too much about the bastard… and yourself.

There’s a throbbing in your head, and your arm, and your neck. And when you finally start to regain consciousness, you feel there’s an even worse throbbing resting on your legs. Something weighted, pressing you down, only when you open your eyes do you finally realise—

It’s Dynamight, Bakugou, Katsuki— whatever. Splayed out so you're trapped underneath the lug of him. He starts to wake, and you see that as enough reason for him to be off, so you kick out and try to stand.

“Oi.” He groans, gripping onto your ankle before you can kick him again. “Stop that.”

“Get off me.” You don’t listen and try to whack him anyway. It’s the wrong response, he just grips harder.

“Fuckin— alright!” Bakugou scowls, his head clearly still pounding as he tries to move.

You pull away from him, shifting against the rubble and attempt to take in your surroundings. 

“Are you guys okay?!” A sudden brightness interrupts your vision, Red Riot, standing over the two of you, practically shouting. 

“Yes!” Both you and Bakugou hiss back, ears ringing at the sudden volume. 

“Took quite the fall there.” Kirishima reaches out to help you stand. Already sensing Bakugou ready to jump, he quickly adds “Don’t worry! We caught the villain. Everything’s fine, just gotta get you two checked up.” 

Bakugou stands on his own, refusing Kirishima’s hand, which the redhead just shrugs at. Instead, you thank Kirishima and let him assist you to the paramedics. 

Though the extra stability helps, your legs still ache and you watch Bakugou try mask a similar struggle. His teeth clench with each hobble and you feel a little bad, reaching out to him in pity… but you miscalculate your own balance and find yourself falling to the ground, scraping your knee against the concrete, hard. And that’s when something odd happens. 

Bakugou hisses out in pain too. 

He actually clutches his left knee, where yours bleeds. Really the pain isn’t anything new, nothing compared to what you’ve taken before, but for Bakugou to react to it.

The two of you lock eyes, for far too many seconds, not saying a word.

Then quickly and without warning, you both begin to hit and punch at your own bodies, looking for something . Kirishima watches, baffled, clearly having no clue at what the two of you are doing. 

“Close your fucking eyes!” Bakugou orders and you listen, scrunching up. “Kirishima hit me.”

Kirishima doesn’t even get the opportunity to challenge as Bakugou demands him again to comply. Before you even hear the noise Bakugou lets out, you feel a hard fist thump into you. 

“I can feel it.” Your eyes snap open and you gasp, raising your left arm. “Holy shit. I can feel it.”

Bakugou stares back at you, eyes equally as wide as yours. 

You both shout simultaneously—

“FUCK!”

After patching you up, the health team run a few more tests, mostly just tapping away at random parts of your bodies and taking notes on your reactions. All it really does is confirm that yes, you and Bakugou Katsuki are sharing an entire nervous system. Down to each breath you take.

And because of that, you’re both given (forced in Bakugou’s case) two weeks off, trusted to deal with the quirk’s effects sensibly, like adults— heroes, should. 

It's quite strange, feeling parts of yourself move in ways they aren’t, but it isn’t the absolute worst. The smaller things, like the action of walking, are easy to ignore. It’s mainly the random pops of his quirk that gets to you, but even then it’s just a little twitch. 

The first time he showers, however, you let out a shriek. It’s completely cold and although you know there’s nothing on you, you feel drenched to the bone. 

You call him instantly and he laughs into your ear. 

“Fuck am I meant to do?” He snorts. “Not shower?”

“You could’ve at least texted!” You huff, shoving your key into the lock. “I was still on the way home, the whole street heard me scream.”

That’s what really gets him going, laughing so loud he drowns out the sound of his shower still hammering down in the background. His laugh is so rambunctious you don’t realise he’s walking back in, until you feel the waves of icy cold water crashing over you, again. 

“Katsuki!!!”

You’re lucky enough that Bakugou is meticulous, obsessive even, with a routine that never seems to waver. You’re quick to follow it, countering his insane 5am showers with your own warm and comfortable ones. 

He did text you once about it though, telling you to “Turn the fucking heat down,” and spamming some jabber about you being a “Damn demon” from the “Depths of hell.”

You also find he’s absolutely restless. When he isn’t pattering about cooking— you assume from the heat, or paperwork— you can tell by the familiarly repetitive motions, he’s exercising. All the damn time. It’s a little condescending actually. While you spend your break how it should be spent, being a lazy fuck, he’s up and doing too many crunches to count. And what’s worse is that you can more than feel the lunges and squats, it actually tires you out. Even though you know you won’t reap any of the benefits, you have to lay down and catch your breath.

The first time you texted him a stern “I’m going to sleep. Don’t do anything to wake me up.” But by the third day it seems he’d figured out your routine and was surprisingly respecting it. 

Maybe you give him too much credit.

Too hot. Everything is too hot. You’re not even awake enough to realise it’s your own skin that burns harshly, blood pumping wildly through your veins. Instead you go to kick off your blanket and attempt to roll out of bed.

And that’s when you feel it. 

It’s fucking bizarre . Although there’s nothing there you can feel exactly where a dick should be. You can feel how his hand slides up and down. You can feel the knot in his stomach. Everything is too real. 

You pray to yourself he’ll remember that his body isn’t just his right now! That you can feel each stroke of his thick fingers moving up and down. But he doesn’t stop, in anything he gets a little faster. 

Then comes the second sensation. The feeling is unmistakable. It’s a warm, wet, human mouth. Around you— or the phantom appendage— sucking gently and that’s when you know you have to stop it.

It's pretty hard to walk, when you’re practically being sucked off, but you manage to grab your phone and dial his number furiously. 

It rings once, then twice, and by the third time you know he’s ignoring you because the mouth stops and he smacks his own thigh, in turn yours .

The mouth resumes, and you’ve had enough. Grabbing your keys, trying your best not to keel over, you’re set on getting to his apartment, which for the first time you’re glad is actually nearby. 

The drive is torturous. Really, you know you shouldn’t be driving at all, not as you have to grip the steering wheel tight, in fear if you let go you’d spasm wildly. Whoever Bakugou had on their knees, was doing a really good fucking job. The bastard was seeing heaven while you were trying your very best not to land yourself in hell, because of the sin of mass murdering late night pedestrians you only just swerve by. 

Even the sporadic pinches to your thigh don’t deter him, instead he returns them with his own. All you can do is curse and hope the ceiling caves in. Or maybe the floor under him opens up— better yet if his dick were to entirely explode.

You’re utterly winded when you do finally reach his flat, knees nearly having buckled on the stairs up. When you get to his front door, you slam down hard.

“Katsuki, open the fucking door.” You knock without restraint, not caring for the neighbors. “I swear to god if you don’t-“ 

The door opens just as you're about to thrash it again, almost having you topple in. You catch yourself, of course, but Bakugou snorts at the sight. 

“You couldn’t wait a fucking week?!” You shout before he can speak. 

You look at him, shirtless, skin flushed and dewy. His sweats hang low, just barely fumbled on, revealing the sharp muscles under his skin, and a little trail of light brown hair that you have to force your eyes to stop following.

If you weren’t so mad you’d probably enjoy the sight. That somehow ticks you off even more. 

“You seriously came all this way?” 

“You weren’t picking up your calls!” You huff. “And it’s not like you forgot about the quirk.” You gesture wildly to your thigh, probably purple from all the pinching. “You prick!”

“And what do you want me to do.” Bakugou gives you a look of annoyance, as if he was the one inconvenienced. “Stop everything because of you?”

“Yes?!” 

Bakugou then takes a step forward, suddenly looking taller. He towers over your form, with an intimidation you’re not often on the other side of. 

“Tough shit princess.” You feel the words against you. “Just ‘cause you’re not getting any, doesn’t mean I’m not.” 

You have to hold your tongue, clench your fists, and tense your arms, just so you don’t push him. Even without the quirk you were sure he could probably sense the anger building inside you. 

But then a thought hits you. 

Without saying a word, you slip your phone out your pocket and dial a number. Bakugou watches, confused but slightly curious. 

The phone only rings once before the call is picked up. Your face lightens animatedly, losing its scowl and turning into something dramatically sweet. 

“Izu…” You practically coo. “Are you free tonight?”

Bakugou’s face immediately drops at the name.

“Mhmm…” You hum. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

You’re sure Bakugou can hear the man on the other end fluster but agree to what you’ve not-so subtly proposed. You give him a smug look before continuing. 

“That’s good to know…” You give Bakugou a smile, just to be dramatic. “I could wear that dress you really-“ 

You’re cut off as Bakugou grabs your wrist, pressing end call and glaring at you. 

“You wouldn’t.” He growls.

“Oh but I would.” You smile back, making sure to bare your teeth.

The two of you come to a standstill, waiting for the other to break the silence. It’s actually Bakugou who speaks first, finally yielding. 

“Fucking fine!” Exasperated, he huffs. “Fuck, I’ll send her home.”

The smug look on your face comes to a quick halt as a realisation dawns upon you.

“I don’t know her do I?” You grab him and ask with genuine dread. “Katsuki, tell me I don’t know her.”

He doesn’t respond for a few seconds, enjoying the sight of you panicked.

“Katsuki!!”

“You don’t.” He waves you off. “Just a hookup.”

That surprises you. “Didn’t know you do hookups.”

“Didn’t know you were fucking Deku.” He spits it out like a slur. You’re not quite sure why though, you could’ve sworn they’d gotten over their childhood beef. 

“I’m not.” You shrug. “But I could.” 

Bakugou runs a hand through his hair, defeated and ready to kick the girl out. It’s a bit awkward now that you think of it. Neither him nor whoever was in his room right now had… gotten their release. 

Not enthusiastic about watching him break a poor girl's heart, you turn to leave, it’s at the exact same time Bakugou goes to return, and brushes his— still very much sensitive— dick against the door. 

“Shit.” You gasp as your legs jelly. It’s like a punch to the gut, sending shockwaves through your stomach. 

Bakugou catches you by the arm before you can fall, then sighs.“Come inside. You can’t drive home like that.” 

You follow him in, not making a fight,  as if you could with the way your legs had weakened. You’ve been to his apartment before, many times, but mostly with others. So you’re not sure why there’s a sudden tension that doesn’t feel like frustration anymore. You just hope Bakugou can’t feel the way your tummy continues to flutter. 

Bakugou returns, and there’s a twitch of something green in your chest when you see the women beside him. You don’t mean to stare, she’s decent at least, but you can’t help it. You try not to acknowledge that one of your first thoughts is to compare her to yourself, and feel disappointed at the lack of similarity. 

You stop mentally analysing her when she shies away from your gaze. She looks guilty. And although, yes the situation is mortifying, you’re not sure why she looks so terribly remorseful. If anything it’s you that should be apologetic— and Bakugou most certainly. 

She squeaks out a quick “Sorry” alongside a “I didn’t know” as she gathers up her stuff. Then she glares straight at Bakugou and flicks him off. That’s when it registers. 

“Oh god no, not his girlfriend!” You correct quickly. “Definitely not the girlfriend.”

You don’t notice how Bakugou’s resting frown deepens. 

The woman looks perplexed, but decides not to question it. You hear Bakugou give his own apology as he takes her to the door, attesting to the fact he wasn’t cheating. Still you feel a little bad watching her leave. 

“Make sure to call her back and explain okay?” You’re a moralist, what can you say.

“Shut up.” Bakugou groans, making his way to his open kitchen. “Catch.” He throws you a bottle of water, still cold from the fridge. “Drink and rest a bit.”

You eye him cautiously. Why is he showing courtesy now.

“Don’t look at me like that.” Bakugou huffs, then turns his head away. There’s an expression you just about catch, that seems kind of… does he feel bad?

And for some reason that just makes you feel sheepish. Enough so that you have to turn away and focus on your water instead. 

“Thought you were asleep at first.” There’s foreign sounding guilt in his voice. “And the quirk should’ve worn down by now.”

“Well it hasn’t.” You scoff, pointing a finger directly at him. “Don’t pull any shit like that again.”

Bakugou keeps to his word. He doesn’t fuck— or half fuck anyone else. Instead, his workouts become harsher, his routine now erratic. You can’t keep countering his cold morning showers, when he’s taking three a day and going straight back to the cardio as soon as he’s out. But you don’t dare ask him to cool it, you were the reason for all his pent up energy after all. 

When your knuckles start to ache due to his new found interest in boxing, he at least has the decency to text you a blunt sorry. 

“Don’t you have any other hobbies you can waste your time with.” With your phone lodged between your head and shoulder, you scold him. “I started cooking— ah !” You hiss as some oil spits at you.

“You’re lucky I’m used to explosions.” Bakugou snorts, amused. “You’re clearly doing a shit job, turn the fucking heat down.”

“Fuck off.” You turn the heat down. “My food’s gonna be perfect!”

“Hah, doubt it.”

“You can taste it yourself!” You say with a pop, licking some sauce that had gotten on your finger. “Already so good! You’ll see.”

You feel him suck in a breath but stay silent on the line. 

“Why’d you call if you were gonna ignore me.”

“M’not.” His words come out a little mumbled. “Just, gonna go take a shower.”

“Oh!” You shove a lid onto your pan. “Let me get in too!”

He kisses his teeth at that. You don’t question why he’s annoyed. 

The water hums comfortably over you. It’s nice and warm— not too warm, rather not risk another spam of texts— and it’s exactly what you needed after a day of dealing with Bakugou’s intense workouts. 

You can vaguely feel his own cold shower under yours, but for the most part, the heat does well to cancel it out. You’re used to ignoring when Bakugou cleans his thighs. Even if you can feel his thick fingers like they’re actually on you. The same way the hot water counters his cold, you clean alongside him, to pretend all you can feel is your own hands. Brushing your fingers through your hair, you go through the rest of your routine. Making sure to thoroughly scrub at all your curves.

He’s out before you are, telling by the way your water suddenly feels much warmer. Your phone flashes from the counter, Bakugou texting you to hurry the hell up, and you take that as cue to finish. 

You’re slow with your moisturising, slathering it on and massaging it into your skin. Bakugou pinches you through himself. You wonder why but ignore it and just get dressed. 

He doesn’t text you again, instead feeling uncharacteristically still. Perhaps he’d gone to sleep? You snap him a picture of your dish anyways, if he won’t taste it he can get a good look at least. You’re about to dig in when a familiar sensation builds between your legs.

He’s— he’s fucking touching himself again—

Immediately, you go to text him, but his contact pops up first. 

Bakugou [work]: It’s okay. 

Bakugou [work]: It’s just me.

Bakugou [work]: Let me have this

You’re not even sure how to respond, but you do end up abandoning your meal and take seat on your sofa. 

Me: it’s so weird 

Me: I can feel everything 

He spits on his hand, the wetness gross. Yet you can’t seem to hate it. 

Bakugou [work]: you think I can’t feel you?

Bakugou [work]: soaping yourself up? Touching your fucking tits?

You’re lucky he can’t see you. You’d be embarrassed out of your mind. Maybe because it was nothing unusual to you, you had forgotten it would feel different to a man. 

His text bubble appears once, then disappears and appears again. Finally he continues.

Bakugou [work]: just go to sleep if it bothers you so much

His hands still stroke himself but a little languidly, as if to give you option to ignore it. You don’t. 

Me: how am I supposed to sleep if you’re doing that!

His hands still, you can just imagine his laugh. 

Bakugou [work]: think of it like a massage 

He starts up again.

Bakugou [work]: I can tell you like it

Your body betrays you and he knows.

Me: you’re an asshole

Just as you send the message you feel his hands thumb his tip and the sharp feeling of pleasure that comes with it. It’s embarrassing that your first thought is so that’s how he likes it.  

Bakugou does it once more before returning back to stroke his shaft. The pace he sets is dangerously addictive. It works him up and in turn you. You’re almost keeling when you send your next text. 

Me: Fuck it

He types again but you pay no mind, shoving your free hand down your trousers and brushing over your clit. You rub gently for a second but with your slick having gathered and spread, you realise it’s not enough. 

A text flashes on screen as you press finger into yourself. You feel Katsuki tense. 

Bakugou [work]: easy pr incess

You don’t go easy. Instead you rub at your clit faster, one finger still dipping into you. Katsuki pinches his thigh, which you ignore and continue.

Then your screen flashes a different image. A picture of Dynamight, ripped straight from your company’s website, his contact photo. 

“Fuck-“ You sigh, picking up the call. “What is it.”

“You complain and then start touching yourself?” Bakugou accuses, not letting up his own pumps.

The faint slick noises in the background of his words, makes your stomach do flips. The sudden image of his cock wet and dripping now at the forefront of your mind. You don’t realise how your own moments get faster, but Bakugou does. 

“Oi.” He pants. “Slow the fuck down.”

“Are you about to come?” You let out a breathy laugh. “So fast?”

The reply you get is a harsh pinch to your nipple, one that makes you arch a little. It feels good. 

“Shit, you liked that?” Bakugou says, in a voice that practically speaks his smirk. He pinches again and this time you really moan.

“Stop it.” you whine, pushing your fingers in again, rutting against your hand. 

“Why?” Bakugou does it again and again, making you push into your hand, deeper. “You— fuck— you really like it.”

“Katsuki.”

You feel a sharp tug of pleasure, from him. 

“Oh…” you giggle. “And do you like it when I call your n-name?”

“Shut—“ he hisses, thumbing his tip, “—the fuck up.”

“Are you sure you want that?” You tease, touching yourself the way you know your body, and his, will enjoy. “Ka-tsu-ki.” 

He only responds with a deep groan, something that edges a whine. You didn’t think you could get more turned on.

“Like you’re not getting wet when I talk to you, princess .”

Now that has your tummy twisting, stomach sinking with growing lust. Your body clenches around your fingers without permission, and you can’t even attempt to hold the moan. 

“Shit,that made you fuckin’ squeeze .” He huffs, hands getting faster. “Ke-keep doing that.” He says as you work your fingers well. “Fuck . Feels so fucking good sweetheart.”

You comply, fully knowing you couldn’t stop even if you wanted to. Each stroke of his, paired with your indulgence, just brings you closer and closer to—

“Kats’— I’m gonna—“

“Fuck, me too [Name], me too .” His breaths are erratic and so are the wet sounds of his cock. 

It doesn’t take long for the two of you to come. Especially with how pent up he, and evidently you had been. It’s sort of magic, how you can feel the exact moment where the coil in him snaps, and how it dominoes onto you, forcing you to come with him. 

So blissed out, it takes a while for everything to catch up with you. The same goes for Bakugou.

“We shoul…” 

“Do you want to…”

You both start at the same time, and stop, embarrassed by what you want to suggest. 

There’s silence that feels like it burns, you’re not used to the heat like he is. You need it gone.

“Can I come over tomorrow?”

As you drive the nerves start to rise. Perhaps it’s knowing you’re going over for sex . It isn’t like the random visits you’ve made before that end in you staying a little longer, this is specific. 

You’re going over to have sex with Bakugou Katsuki.

Standing in front of his apartment you nearly turn back, his door somehow intimidatingly tall, too hard to knock. 

You don’t get to run however, not when Bakugou opens it immediately. 

He stands there, freshly showered, in only a tank and shorts. He looks fucking good.

“You just gonna stand there?” 

“Shut up” You push past him and take off your coat. He watches, entertained by your familiarity and the polite way you take off your shoes and line them up neatly.

“Youre being weird” Bakugou observes. “Its just me”

It ticks you off a little how casual he’s being. As if it means nothing, that the night before meant nothing, that what you’re about to do means nothing. 

“Oi, what is it?” Bakugou is quick to sense your apprehension.

“How are you being so normal about this,” you hiss. “do you even want to…” It’s hard to admit you’re nervous. “Do it…”

Bakugou looks at you, baffled. Which you return with a scowl. It’s like he can see the wheels turning in your head because before you can even open your mouth to speak, he's kissing you. 

His mouth is warm against yours, surprisingly soft for all the venom that leaves it. It’s also surprisingly sweet, he kisses you like it would hurt to pull away. 

“Been thinking about you all day,” he groans with the breath he takes. “All fucking day, Angel”

His hands roam and squeeze and when you place yours on him he almost whines. Mouthing at your neck, his fingers trail downwards, to cup you through your skirt. 

“You think I don’t want this?”

There’s a second where he stills, asking for your silent go ahead, and when you push into his hands he takes that glady. His fingers rub over your underwear, easily finding your clit and pressing firmly. He feels it in him, how sensitive you are, and he has to take a breath to calm down. 

Slowly you feel him pull away, and he has to gently shush you before continuing.

“Why are you teasing me.” You don’t mean to pout.

“M’not.” He hums, lowering down your body with kisses over your clothes. “Just let me taste you.” 

He’s on his knees before you can dispute, pushing his way under your skirt and ripping straight through your underwear. Bakugou just nips at your thigh when you give him a reprimanding tug. 

You’re swollen and wet, pulsing in front of his eyes. Slick clings to your folds and he stares at the way your pussy almost glimmers for him. 

And when you look down, he’s his own sight to behold.

Dynamight, on his knees, flushed with kiss swollen lips. His hair is messy, sticking to his forehead, a debauched reminder of the moisture that clings to him. His eyes are blown out, only a small ring of red circling his glittering pupils. You can see all of desire in him. You think you could stare at him forever.

But Bakugou has never been a patient man, and he doesn’t let you any longer. He attaches his mouth over you without warning. 

There isn’t the soft beginnings of timid kisses and shy licks, he is indulgent. Voracious in the way he eats you out. It’s selfish. He seeks his own pleasure through you. 

 “You like this more than me.”

He winks an eye open and then rolls it.

 “If I knew this shit felt so good I’d do it more.” He murmurs before diving straight back in.

Knowing exactly how and where it feels good, Bakugou had been given the ultimate cheat sheet to a woman’s body. The first cheat sheet he was ever intent on using.

“Kats…” You still hold reservations, not wanting to admit you’re getting close. “If you keep…”

He moans into you. “I know.”

He speeds up, disregarding any of your pleas to slow down. You realise he wants you to come. All over his face, all over him . He doesn’t hesitate in making it clear that he’ll have you coming undone right here, right now.

You can feel it in your own hair, how tightly you pull on his. It's masochistic how that makes the coil in you wind even worse. Katsuki takes that as encouragement to continue. 

It hits you quickly, and it’s embarrassing how you gush all over him. Without shame, Bakugou smiles into your still spasming pussy.

“Fuck.” Finally steadying his breaths, Bakugou groans. Still on his knees, you’re afraid to look down at the mess you’ve made. 

“Did you…” you ask, feeling a little selfish. 

“No.” He shakes his head, scrambling up to stand. “But I gotta be inside of you, now.”

Not another word can be said before he hoists you up onto his shoulder. You can’t even fathom the sudden change in height as he barrages through his flat and throws you, albeit gently, onto his bed. You nearly kick him at the audacity until you catch the darkening reds of his eyes.

Oh he’s going to ruin you. 

Bakugou pulls off his shirt, body overrun with heat, and is on top of you almost instantly. His kiss this time is heavy and hot and everything but gentle. There’s something disgustingly erotic about being able to taste yourself on his tongue. It makes you crave him. 

“In. Kats, in .” You can't even speak full sentences, only one thing on your mind. “In!”

“Yeah, okay— fuck okay” he huffs, pulling his dick out and palming it. Like the rest of his body, his cock stands with a pink flush. You’d call it pretty to tease if you weren't salivating at the sight. Instead you grab at him, to help line him up. 

He holds it there for a moment. Just outside your pulsing entrance. You reach out to rub his arm, hoping to ease his hesitance. 

It’s utterly confusing.  

Feeling him enter you, from both your perspective and his. In fact it’s a little frightening. Neither of you can hide how much it fucks with your heads.Your eyes squeeze shut and you can feel his hands fist the sheet beside you. There's a wetness along your eyelashes, a stutter in his breath. It’s all too much. 

A warm hand upon your forehead brings you back to reality. Katsuki pushes your hair out the way, and brings his lips down to kiss you. If you weren’t already in tears, you’d probably start crying all over again. It’s too sweet of a gesture. A kiss to the forehead. Something hidden begins to warm in your chest. 

“Don’t…” You gasp. “Don’t fuck me like it means something.”

His expression shifts into something pitiful. 

“You’re an idiot.” He says through kisses. “If you can’t see it, you’re an idiot.”

“What.” You whine. 

“You think I don’t care for you?” Kissing a tear away, he explains. “You think I’d do this shit for anyone?”

“[Name]” He kisses off the pout that forms on your lips. “I fucking like you.”

Its like everything stops. Then everything bursts. Fuck . He likes you. The same way you’ve been pretending you don’t this whole time.

“Shit.” Katsuki recoils at the silence. “I shouldn’t—”

This time it's you who cuts him off from spiralling, kissing him and pushing your hips closer. He reaches deeper and though it’s so so much, you wouldn’t trade the feeling for the world. 

The two of you are quick to find a rhythm, intrinsically linked and sickeningly pleasurable. It should be overwhelming, but his hand in yours keeps you grounded. His presence protects you. 

When he hits a particular spot inside you, you jolt in surprise. And Katsuki whines. Actually whines. His voice at a foreign pitch. He doesn’t let you anticipate his next thrust, for he pushes back instantly, hitting that spot over and over again. 

It’s a sticky mess of needy sobs and heavy breaths, bodies pressed together with heavy desire. He doesn’t have to wonder how good you feel, he knows . So when something bubbles up inside of you, he’s quick to chase it. 

“Gonna…” You can hardly get the words out, not that you need to. 

He responds by letting his fingers trail down and over your clit. His circles are impatient, taking, and you’d laugh at how spoilt he was, if you weren’t enjoying it so badly yourself. 

It’s when he brings his lips down to yours one last time, does everything finally topple over. 

It absolutely shatters you. 

One orgasm alone is enough, but having two? Of both male and female? It’s devastating. It whites out your vision, blocks out any sound— all you can feel is the rapture that comes from the two of you. 

It takes a good few minutes for either of you to calm down and unattach yourselves. But even then you cling to him, wanting him as close as possible. He gives in despite his own fatigue, holding you while his fingers run up and down your arm to soothe. You don’t even realise the quirk has faded, your bodies in sync with or without. 

“Could get addicted…” Katsuki breaks the silence first, a small chuckle in his words. “Women are fucking lucky.”

You’re finally starting to notice the way you can no longer feel your own body through his and look at him with sympathy. You give him a pitiful pat— the wonders of the female body, he would never forget it.

You sit in his embrace a little longer, ignoring him shuffle about when your phone starts to ring. The screen lights up to his contact, but before you can question why, he speaks.

“I’m still ‘Bakugou [work]?’” 

It takes a moment for you to understand what he’s talking about and when you do, you laugh. 

“And a picture from the site?” He frowns, pinching your cheek. “Seriously?”

“Bet you don’t even have one for me.” 

“Yes I fucking do.” Katsuki shoves his phone in your face. 

And true to his word, he does in fact have a photo for you. It’s one you’re surprised he even has. It isn’t snagged off a news article, or even one of those fansites that for some reason existed— it’s a picture of the two of you, a candid Kirishima was probably responsible for.

“Why’d you pick that.” You snort, zooming into the photo. “You can barely see me.”

Katsuki shoves his chin down to your shoulder before snatching back his phone. “You looked cute.” He mumbles. “Tha’s all.”

There’s a conversation to be had, even if you’re hesitant. You put on a brave face and ask.

“You really like me, don’t you?”

“Shut up.” 

“Fine I won’t tell you how I really like you.”

Katsuki nudges you with his cheek, and when you peek over at him, there’s a resting pink under his skin. 

He can be so cute sometimes. You wonder if anyone else has seen him like this. 

Then you remember. 

“What about that girl?!” You don’t mean to sound accusatory, but you’re sure the unprompted pout that comes with your words says enough.

“You’re jealous?” Katsuki teases, you feel the smile against your skin. Then it turns into a little frown. “What about you and…” He can’t even say it. 

“We haven’t done anything!” You correct him immediately. “We’ve only made out.” 

“Oh shut up, don’t tell me.” He grumbles, grabbing your chin to guide your mouth to his. “You’re mine now.” He’s asking, begging even, you can tell. “Okay?””

You smile and swerve his next kiss, shaking your head. “Maybe take me on a date first.” 

“I was going to—” He looks a bit scandalised, you didn’t realise he could be so traditional. “Fuck off I was.”

“So what made you wait.” You shouldn’t push, but it’s fun to watch his fluster. “The sex?”

“Could feel you doing everything.” Katsuki rolls his eyes, realising your game. “Like you were under my fuckin’ skin.”

“And that turned you on?” 

He reaches out to cup your breasts. “Of course that shit turned me on. ‘Was like my own hand.” He squeezes. “Cant blame a man.”

You realise only now is he finally touching you on his own. Without your sensations overriding his. You let him have his fascination. You don’t stop his hands from exploring.

Instead you sink into his curiosity, a little interested yourself to see how far it’ll go.

Haiii I hope the concept isn’t confusing, tried to make it make sense 🤾🏽

[xazse]

please can i request hybrid kitten reader being taken in by snow leopard Satoru and panther Suguru. could be something like they both assimilated into regular society while living together and they found reader fending for themselves on the street after being abandoned and kicked out by their owner for misbehaving and being mischievous (she's just playful and needs company it was the owner's fault for leaving her alone at home all the time). could you include brat taming and a threesome between them?

its my first time requesting i love your hybrid works sm 🫶🏻 it scratches an itch i didnt know i had and i even read the ones im not into

Warnings: Hybrids + BratTaming + threesome + smut + manhandling + pussy-spanking + crying + orgasm denial + cumming inside + mentions of pregnancy + SatoSugu are a bit mean in this one. + hybrids

Pairings: CatHybrid!Reader x SnowLeopard!Satoru x PantherHybrid!Suguru

Notes: I hope you enjoy! I apologize for this taking so long! I had fun writing this 😈 I’m so happy to be your first request I really do hope you see this! Please give me a message or something if you do!!

You didn’t expect to be picked up one day, showered, clothed and fed till it looked like your stomach could pop out but it had happened. You went from trudging down the street in dirty garments garnering dirty looks from humans who didn’t understand your predicament, you hated the way they looked at you like you were gum on their shoe. A disgusting spec on the world.

It wasn’t until you met Suguru who found you digging through a trash can in some random alleyway, it was like an angel extending its hand, A very beautiful one, one who probably knew the hardships you had suffered though.

He had listened to your story in that alleyway, spared you his ear and eyes with not a hint of malice or some ulterior motive.

He also shared his story of being a “predator” in this unfair unbalanced world, Suguru held himself in such a way that you couldn’t believe people had even thought he was anything but the kindest man to grace this earth.

Satoru you learn, has his ups and downs but besides he also treated with the utmost respect and care, taking care of you in his own funny ways. Satoru being a Leopard made things easier for you they’re usually upbeat in some way so it wasn’t hard for you to get comfortable in their warm home.

You adjusted very well to the both of them, adapted to their lives and sunk into their company. They think it worked a little too well.

Suguru had asked you to do something very simple, something small, he never really asks you to do much around the house so he doesn’t think anything of it, what he doesn’t expect is you huffing under your breath and waving him off, simply telling him to “get Satoru to do it.” He’s stunned where he stands in the kitchen.

The next issue arises when you’re playing with Satoru, something you do on the regular because you know how much he loves the chase. When he pins you down you take the opportunity to bite him, you’ve already had Suguru and Satoru talk to you about your biting habits, so you know you’re not meant to do that, Satoru is the one left staring at the glaring mark on his arm and when he tries to scold you, you’re already walking into your shared bedroom and plopping on that game. Not even bothering with an apology.

You destroy expensive vases, plates all in the name of fun, scolding you and telling you to stop doesn’t work anymore. It just seems to make your behavior even more annoying.

Suguru is the more calmer one between him and Satoru, he had let the biting incident go rather easily, but Suguru hadn’t, he thinks he’s the calm and level headed one but apparently not. He comes home from a stressful exhausting day he wants to do nothing more than cuddle up with you and Satoru in bed.

When hes a few steps into the apartment, he’s greeted by his couches, his expensive personally manufactured couches scratched up, not light scratches either those were made there with a bad intent, and he sees you laying on that same couch, facing the ceiling, sleeping without a care in the world, he’s fucking livid.

He drops his office gear and beelines straight for the couch, straight for you, he yanks you off of his couch and a sleepy you is extremely confused.

He doesn’t spare you any words, all you see is his broad back dragging you to your shared bedroom, he throws you down in the middle of the bed with a thud and now do you get to see his angry expression, there’s not an ounce of forgiveness in there, it burns red. You know what you’ve done and yet all you want to do is push him further.

You tiptoe over that already small line and innocently ask him what’s got him so worked up.

Satoru unlocks the door and is greeted by noises, noises he can’t quite makeout yet but stepping his clothed foot further into the home he senses it’s you, he makes his way to the bedroom and slowly opens the door.

It’s like it’s straight from a porno, you’re spread out on the bed in all your glory: naked and covered in a light sheen of sweat. Suguru is sat leaned against the headboard as he abuses your poor cunt with a dildo, you’re holding onto his thick arm begging him to slow down just a little, your eyes are filled to the brim with tears and tears that are already dried up on your face.

“s’too much guru… ple-“ you can’t even finish your plead for release because Suguru is slamming the dildo right against your spot directly. Satoru can see bite marks decorating Suguru’s arms, you’ve been uselessly doing that to no avail. Still acting so bratty even during your punishment.

You see Satoru and try to call out for him in the sweetest voice you can muster, you know the leopard has a soft spot for you but in this moment it goes in one ear and out the other. Suguru spanks your swollen clit and scolds you for even thinking Satoru could help you.

Suguru doesn’t notice but Satoru sees the way your cute hole clenches, oh?

You’ve clearly been waiting for one of them to break and Suguru was the first to fold.

Satoru can no longer stare, he’s been grabbing and pawing with his cock ever since he’d seen the way your pussy swallows the dildo with not much fight. The way your wet cunt is practically soaking and dripping onto the bed.

He makes his way towards the bed, discarding his clothes on the way till he’s only in his boxers, his ears stand at full attention, listening to every squelch and nasty noise you and your pussy make.

He knows in the end you probably want cock but looking at an ever so serious Suguru he knows that’s not what you will be getting tonight, so Satoru latches onto your nipples, swirling the buds in his mouth, popping off of them just to slurp them right back into his mouth.

He swirls his long fingers around your clit, furthering your torture.

It’s not until about three hours later, you cockdrunk on the two cocks that sit nicely in your pussy, it wasn’t easy but you’d find it, you’d expected to be praised for such an achievement but nothing from either man had come out, their poor kitty left mewling in pleasure but no release just yet.

You beg to just cum once, just once but they ignore you, they chase their orgasms multiple times that night, filling your already full cunt with more of them, potentially even their little babies, that should settle you down for a while.

[florencemtrash]

Take it Off - Azriel x Reader

Summary: You and Azriel have been friends for centuries... but what happens when he wakes up one day to find that things have changed? And how will he react when you start wearing Cassian's clothes?

Warnings: Angst. Jealous Azriel. Suggestiveness and then some (I don't know what warning to put, but it's spicier than my usual stuff is all I'll say). Cassian is an absolute menace... good for him

Author's note: Did I write this to procrastinate editing SSIB Ch 22 after watching Bridgerton S3?... yes

Is this a fucking game to you?

Cassian grinned over the lip of his cup, raising his brow in a poorly disguised expression of confusion. He’d been playing the innocent fool all throughout breakfast, seemingly oblivious to the daggers Azriel was throwing his direction every time he made you laugh.

Internally, he and Nesta were both cackling. He threw his arm over the back of his mate’s chair, plucking the cream puff she held out for him, and tossing it into his mouth with a shit-eating grin. 

I’ve not the faintest idea what you’re talking about, Azriel. Although it hurts me deeply to see you so upset.

Upset was an understatement. Azriel was holding onto his glass of orange juice so tightly cracks were beginning to form beneath his fingertips. 

You elbowed Azriel in the ribs, brows furrowed as you pointed your slice of toast towards his hand. “Are you ok?” You whispered low and just for his ears. 

The molten anger in his eyes melted away, hazel eyes softening as he took in your concerned expression. You were the first and only one of his family members to watch him so intensely. You could unravel the meaning in every twitch of his jaw, every rhythmic tap of his fingers against his thigh, every flicker of his shadows. You knew when he was upset, when he was happy, and when he wanted to laugh but had trouble expressing it. The only thing you weren’t aware of when it came to Azriel was how unbelievably in love with you he was. 

But that was his own fault. 

You’d watched him fawn over Mor for centuries, watched as he practically crawled on hand and knees for any kernel of affection she was willing to throw his way. Then, when you thought he’d finally gotten over his feelings for her, he’d chased after Elain’s heels like a dog in heat. You didn’t even want to begin thinking about Gwyn and the way she’d trampled over his hopes with the simple phrase, “I love you as a friend, Azriel. Nothing more.” 

No. It was entirely his fault that you’d learned to bury your own feelings for him so deep they’d become background noise — as inconsequential and ever present as the sound of your own breathing. 

Still… you couldn’t help but notice the secrets swimming in his eyes, the hurt and longing there that you could only guess the origin of. Who’d hurt him this time? You wondered. 

“I’m fine.” Azriel whispered, his hands ghosting over your thighs before deciding against touching you there. 

You hummed, clearly unconvinced. You held your toast in between your teeth, tasting the raspberry jam explode on your tongue as you reached over and carefully peeled Azriel’s fingers off his injured glass. 

His heart stuttered at the sight of your lips as they closed around your thumb, licking away crumbs and jam from your fingertips. But then his gaze dropped to your chest and his stomach soured. 

As Madja’s apprentice, you’d acquired a special interest in botany — an interest that had all but shoved you into Feyre’s studio so you could learn the skills necessary to depict all manner of flora and fauna in your field journal. When you’d complained about finding paint and charcoal stains over your clothes, Cassian had jumped on the opportunity to give you his old shirts to use as painting smocks. He had to congratulate himself for the stroke of genius. After all, he and Nesta had been discussing plans on how to get Azriel to admit his feelings for months now. 

Azriel did not respond well to outright suggestions or bullying. If he told Azriel to pull his head out of his ass and ask you on a proper date, the Shadowsinger would only hunker down on his preconceptions that he was unloveable, and that you were far too good for him. If he revealed to Azriel that you’d secretly loved him for decades that would only make him feel even more embarrassment and shame. 

No.

  Jealousy worked far better when it came to Azriel.

You looked comfortable and happy in Cassian’s clothes — a fact that escaped no one’s notice. You had the sleeves rolled up past your elbows, the rows of buttons at your back haphazardly done without wings to accommodate. You’d worn that particular shirt a half dozen times now and replaced any scent of Cassian with your own. 

Still, you were wearing another male’s shirt… and it was starting to drive Azriel insane.

“I was going to get rid of these and thought you might like them for… painting.” Azriel shifted on his feet, holding out the neatly stacked pile of clothes for you. 

You were laying on your stomach in bed, colored pencils and textbooks splayed out around you, but quickly righted yourself and sifted through the piles he handed you.

You held one up for a better look. 

“Azriel, you were just wearing this last week.” It still smelled like him — the scent of the Illyrian mountains at night woven through the soft, cotton material. “I can’t take this. Or this. Or this!” 

“I have more just like them.” 

You huffed, fists balanced on your hips. 

Azriel was a simple male with ample space in his wardrobe. When he wasn’t in his Illyrian leathers he wore the same three outfits on rotation, all of them nearly identical. If there was anyone who shouldn’t be giving away clothes, it was Azriel. 

“I really appreciate it, Az, but I’m ok. I don’t need these. Cassian already gave me enough hand-me-downs to last two decades at least.” 

A muscle in Azriel’s jaw jumped out. “Well I’m glad for that.” He was practically seething. You noticed, as you always did, but you couldn’t imagine that you were the cause of his frustrations. 

“Are you sure you’re alright, Az? You’ve been acting strangely the past few days.” 

“It’s nothing.”

“I doubt that.” 

There were various things on his mind, chief among them you. So he took hold of the olive branch you’d extended him and laid down beside you, talking about everything and nothing at all. But one thing he avoided talking about at all costs was how the gentle scraping of your nails through his hair as he rested his head in your lap made him want to lock the door and never come out. 

He wanted to bury his face beneath your sundress and then tear it to pieces. He wanted to dive under the covers and leave an assortment of marks on your skin. To hold you so close that you began to smell like one another. 

You lay down beside him, leaning your head against his shoulder so he caught whiffs of your elderberry and lemon shampoo. 

“You know you can tell me anything, right? That’s what friends are for.” 

Right… friends. He was starting to hate that word. 

“Yes… I know.” 

How long do you think he’ll last?

Nesta felt Cassian’s soft laugh blow over the back of her neck as they crouched just behind the door of Feyre's painting studio.

Azriel had been undeniably irritable the last two weeks, his patience fraying like a linen skirt with the hem torn off. Cassian was still sporting a bruise on his cheek from this morning’s sparring session after one of his teasing remarks had hit a little too close to home. 

Not much longer. Look at him, Nes. He’s practically vibrating.

Nesta slapped her hand over her mouth, stifling her laughter. 

Azriel was restless, his wings kept opening and closing with agitation and the curve of his ears had long since turned a bright shade of pink. He’d had his shadows knock over a cup of ink earlier, sending its contents splattering over your shirt and staining the fabric beyond repair. But you’d only shrugged and said, “It’s my painting shirt. It’s meant to get dirty,” before going back to your canvas with a soft smile. The moment you’d turned your back to him, he’d silently cursed the ceiling. 

Stupid, stupid, stupid. He kicked himself, too focused on your continuing conversation to think that his meddling brother and sister-in-law might be watching. 

He hadn’t expected his emotions to take over so quickly, least of all with you. You’d been his best friend for over two hundred years. You were a staple in his life, more familiar to him than the childhood blanket he still had tucked away in his drawer. There was no reason why he should suddenly wake up one day and realize with a shock of surprise that he loved you and couldn’t imagine living in a world that didn’t have you in it. 

It had been such a silly moment as well. You’d been getting ready for Starfall, your hair done up and a flush of color spread over your cheeks and lips. He’d come to check in on you and lost his breath when he saw you sitting at the vanity, holding up earrings to your neck to see if they matched the satin of your deep blue gown. And then you’d politely asked him to lace up your dress and he’d nearly swallowed his tongue in surprise, forcing his hands to stop shaking as they brushed against your spine. Gods he’d wanted to throw himself off a balcony that night, if only because you’d be the one tasked with healing him. 

He wanted to throw himself off the balcony now. Let the ground swallow him whole so he wouldn’t have to make a fool of himself in front of you… again. 

I give it another week. Nesta declared.

Cassian smirked. I know my brother. He won’t last another three days.

In the end they were both wrong. 

It only took two days for Azriel to finally snap.

“Take it off.” 

You swiveled around in your chair, tongue pressing against your cheek as you wondered what gave Azriel the audacity to march into your private lesson with Feyre and make such an out-of-character demand. 

“What?” You asked, furrowing your brows. 

Azriel stood as still as an obsidian statue in the doorway. His wings loomed over his shoulders, talons reaching towards the ceiling tense and twitching. 

“Take. It. Off,” he repeated through gritted teeth. He clutched a neatly folded shirt in his hands, knuckles pale and bloodless from the tight grip. You’d been wearing Cassian’s clothes almost every day this past week and he couldn’t stand it anymore. He couldn’t stand sitting beside you at the dinner table or in the library, the laughter in his throat dying when he caught Cassian’s scent drifting off your skin. 

It was maddening the way you didn’t think anything of it. 

Yes, Cassian was practically a brother to you, and yes, he was a mated male but… fuck it bothered Azriel so much to think of anyone else laying claim to you. To think that one day you might actually walk around wearing another male’s clothes because you loved them. To think that that male wouldn’t be him. 

He’d tried to bring up the topic with you in his own round-about way, but you’d shrugged off all his suggestions of wearing something — anything — else. 

“If you want painting clothes, why don’t we go shopping this afternoon? I’m sure Feyre has recommendations. Or we could just walk around the Rainbow until something catches your eye.” 

“I’m not a full time artist, and it seems silly to spend money on clothes you intend to ruin.” 

“Why don’t you ask Feyre or Mor for hand-me-downs then? They’ll fit you better and the sleeves won’t drag so much.” 

“I like it when my clothes are loose.” 

Feyre glanced between the two of you, namely the flare of Azriel’s nostrils and the way he ground his teeth so intently you worried he’d crack a tooth. 

“I’m… going to leave now.”

“Wait—Feyre!” 

The High Lady kissed your cheek, a knowing look in her eyes, before scurrying out the door. 

Don’t scowl so much, Az, you’re making her nervous. She chirped to the Shadowsinger before slipping down the hallway and disappearing. 

She made it all of ten feet down the hall before crowing, “It’s happening!” to the others. 

It’s happening?! Mor leapt out from her bedroom, a robe hastily tied around her waist and soap suds clinging to her hair. “Fey—” she hissed.

Feyre pressed a finger up to her lips, cutting her off. They’re in the art studio now. 

I fucking KNEW IT! Mor squealed in delight, stomping her feet soundlessly into the floorboards as she allowed Feyre to grab her wrist and drag her forward. 

I won the bet, Nes.

You didn’t win, we both lost!

Semantics. 

Why you bas—

Feyre, Rhys, Mor, Cassian, and Nesta streamed into the foyer. There was an air vent here that led directly to the art studio two floors above them and painted over so expertly it may as well have been part of the molding. The sounds traveling through it were muffled by echos and distance, but nothing that fae hearing and magic couldn’t overcome. 

“That’s it!” The chair you’d been sitting in skittered back with a squeak. “What is your problem, Azriel? You’ve been agitated for weeks now. You won’t tell me, or any of the others, what’s wrong and every time Cassian so much as glances in your direction you look like you want to tear his throat out!” 

Azriel said nothing as you stomped forward and dragged him into the room, slamming the door shut behind him. Whiskey eyes flickered down to your hand — the hand you currently had closed around his wrist — and he shuddered. 

You didn’t even want to begin to unpack the hidden meaning of that response as you brought him to the center of the room and let go. 

He dropped the shirt on the nearby desk, hands lowering to the hem of your painting smock with a grimace. 

“I need you to take this off.” He repeated with a frown.

“What kind of person marches into a room and demands that their friend take off their shirt?” 

He flinched at that word — friend.

“Az!” Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and his anger. “What is going on with you?!” 

“It’s nothing.” He growled out, but he tugged at the hem like its very existence was a personal offense.

“Clearly it’s not nothing.”

“Can you just take off your shirt and put this one on?”

You shoved him away. It wasn’t even like he was asking you to get naked, you both knew you were wearing something beneath this, but it was the way he was asking that grated on your nerves — like what he was requesting was perfectly normal and you were the ridiculous one for not listening.

“No.” You folded your arms over your chest with a huff. You were just being stubborn now, but you didn’t care. 

His eyes turned tortured and he clasped his hands together in front of you. “Please?” He begged.

“No! Not until you tell me what’s going on and why you’re acting this way!” 

“I don’t want to have this discussion while you’re standing there smelling like another male!”

That was… not what you were expecting.

You gaped at him, unsure whether to howl with laughter, or slap him across the face. 

“That’s what this is about? You’re upset because I’m wearing Cassian’s clothes?” You gagged at the mere thought of what Azriel was insinuating. 

“Well that was a little hurtful.” Cassian mumbled. 

Mor slapped the back of his head. “Shhhhh. I’m trying to listen.”

Azriel shifted on his feet, color beginning to spread high on his cheekbones. “It’s not about Cassian… not really…”

You tapped your foot on the ground, waiting for him to continue. Azriel felt naked. Stripped back like one of your insect specimens lit up beneath a microscope. Your eyes raked over his every movement. Even his shadows, usually so attention-seeking, cowered behind their master’s back whispering to one another about how Azriel might dig himself out of his own grave. 

“Well?” You snapped. 

Azriel shrank back, “I… I like you, Y/n.” 

You rolled your eyes, “I know, that’s why we’re friends. I like you too.”

“No. Not… not like that.” Azriel groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Oh I’m fucking this up so badly it’s not even funny anymore.” 

“I don’t even know what it is you’re fucking up. I—”

“I love you, ok?” He said in a burst of energy.  “I love you and not in the way that friends are meant to love one another and Cassian’s an idiot and I’m a jealous bastard and I… I…” 

You stared back dumbly. “You can’t mean that.” 

Azriel’s face fell. “And why not?”

“Because I have been here for decades, centuries,” you jabbed his chest with a finger, “And you never once looked at me that way. Never once considered me as anything more than a friend. You’re upset because I’ve been wearing Cassian’s clothes the last few weeks? Well guess what, Az, I’ve watched you walk in and out of those doors for years with your poorly concealed hickies and that lovesick look on your face, and I never made it your problem or anyone else’s.” 

“Well I want you to!” He shouted. It was the first and only time you could remember him raising his voice. “I want you to make it my problem, Y/n. I want you to tell me that you love me and I want you to shout at me for all the stupid decisions I’ve made because I’m yours. I’m yours to shout at. I’m yours to get angry with. I’m yours to love if you’ll still have me and…” Azriel gasped for breath, chest heaving as he came face to face with the fact that he’d just said those words out loud. Those words that he’d kept close to his chest with the rest of his secrets. Those words that proved just how completely at your mercy he was. 

Please say you’ll still have me. His eyes begged. 

When you didn’t move or say anything, he felt a piece of his heart wither away. He lowered his eyes, suddenly interested in a speckle of red paint that had smeared under his boot, “Forgive me. I’m… I’m sorry I didn’t… I shouldn’t have—” 

“You’re a fucking idiot, Azriel.” You muttered breathlessly. 

Then you flung yourself into his arms and crashed your lips into his. 

Kissing Azriel was better than you could have ever imagined. The fantasies you’d constructed late in the night when you were lonely blew apart like paper houses, crumbling in the face of reality. His mouth fumbled for purchase against your lips before slotting into place with a strangled moan. He lifted you in the air and you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist, tightening them until you could feel him harden between your legs. 

His tongue flitted over your lips tasting like oranges and magic. 

But his hands. 

His hands. 

You couldn’t get enough of them as they slid up and down your back, squeezing and pressing into your skin until he’d memorized the curve of your spine. You wove your fingers in his hair, tilting his head so you could stare into his hazel eyes before diving in for another taste. 

He walked you back to the desk, shadows flinging the tins of charcoal and pastel pencils off the furniture so you could perch there instead. Then he surged forward, pressing his hips into the space between your legs so he could feel the heat that gathered there. It sent shivers down his spine.

This… this was everything he’d ever wanted. You were everything he’d ever wanted. Not some unapproachable female he admired from afar but hardly knew, but someone who’d seen every inch of his soul and never flinched. Someone who’d nestled into the hidden corners of his heart and grown there like a willow tree. 

You moved your hands over the wide expanse of his back, digging your nails in to feel every twitch of muscle, every shudder, as he latched onto the side of your neck and slid his tongue over the sensitive skin there. 

He smelled like mountain rain. Like fresh wind and petrichor and sea salt. 

You smelled like lemons and safety. Like maple leaves and lavender and… Cassian.

Because you were still wearing his gods-damned shirt. 

Azriel felt his blood boil, and an instinctual rage took over as he growled low in his throat, bunched the fabric of Cassian’s shirt in his hands, and tore it in two.

You pulled away from him at the sound of ripping fabric, but kept your grip on his solid shoulders as air blew across your skin.

Azriel’s pupils were blown wide, his lips pink and raw as he leaned his forehead against yours in a daze. You continued to breathe each other’s air like you were drowning. He seemed just as in disbelief as you, if not more. 

“Azriel…” You whispered, chest heaving. 

He looked at you with half-lidded eyes full of heat. “... yes, Y/n?” He asked breathlessly.

“I think you ripped through my dress… and my bra as well…” 

“Oh…” He fingered the ruined fabric that fell loose around your shoulders and realized that your back was indeed on full display. The straps of your bra slipped down and the mangled buttons of your sundress clung to their loops by weak threads. “Oh…oh gods.” 

One hand flew up to your chest to keep the fabric in place while the other slapped over your mouth, suffocating the laughter that threatened to burst forth. 

Azriel’s ears and cheeks turned brighter than the sun as he slowly lowered you down to your feet, fumbling over apologies like he hadn’t been shoving his tongue down your throat mere seconds ago. 

“I’m so sorry—” 

“Azriel, it’s ok.” 

“No, I was being an ass and now I’ve ruined your dress and—” 

“You can buy me more.”

Azriel’s shoulder dropped. “I can?” “You can.” 

He shook his head very seriously. “Yes, yes you’re right, I—” Azriel had always been the beautiful one — the one that drew eyes when he walked into a room. The one that had females and males falling out of their seats for a proper look at his elegant features. But right now he looked so helpless, so flustered and unsure of himself that you finally lost it. 

Champagne bubble laughs slipped out of your mouth, light and airy, and sent a shock of warmth through Azriel’s chest. It was infectious the way the skin stretched over your cheeks. The light in your eyes couldn’t be contained no matter how hard you tried. 

He couldn’t help himself. 

He started laughing too. 

What began as one of his reserved chuckles grew into uncontrollable peals of laughter that echoed throughout the studio and had you clutching onto the desk for support. 

Azriel doubled over, one hand holding the stitch in his side together as you howled. 

“Oh gods. I can’t—” You hiccuped. “I-I-I can’t breathe.” 

Soon you were both kneeling on the ground, clutching each other’s arms for some semblance of stability. You gasped for breath, wiping away tears from the corners of your eyes. 

Azriel captured one of your hands, weaving his fingers through yours before bringing your wrist to his lips for a soft, reverent kiss. You thought you’d experienced enough emotions for today ranging from frustration to anger to a joy you couldn’t begin to put into words. But you were certain your heart could handle one more shift in the atmosphere. 

Wordlessly you tugged off Cassian’s shirt, dropping it to the side where shadows caught hold of the cursed fabric and quickly tossed it into the fireplace. The flames crackled with triumph, eating away at the shirt with a vengeance. 

“A little dramatic, don’t you think?” 

“We can agree to disagree.” Azriel murmured, his eyes growing dark and heavy. His gaze drifted down to the soft skin now exposed from your tattered dress, the thin straps clinging to your arms, the gentle swell of your breasts as you breathed heavily. 

His fingers danced over the straps in silent permission, eyes searching yours for any hint of hesitation. But you were open and wanting and desperate for his touch. You crawled into his lap and a faint nod was all he needed before the pale blue fabric of your dress fell down and bunched about your waist. The bra followed, and then you were sitting there naked from the waist up, feeling the heat grow between your bodies as Azriel looked at you with pure adoration in his eyes. 

“Am I dreaming, Y/n?” He whispered, rubbing circles into your hip bones. 

You smiled softly, “Have you dreamed of me before?”

“Yes. Many times.” He kissed your chest, slowly dragging his hands down your ribs as you shivered and fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, and then his belt buckle. “But we never got this far.” 

“Hmmmm, I think we could go a little further.” 

“NOT IN MY STUDIO!” Feyre’s voice echoed oddly through the room, sounding muffled and far away. 

Azriel’s wings flared out, hiding you from view as you yelped and pressed your chest against his. Your cheeks burned with embarrassment about being found in such a compromising position. But the door was closed! And so were the windows!

His shadows finally found the culprit in the air vent.

“Godsdamnit—HAVE YOU BEEN LISTENING THE ENTIRE TIME?!” Azriel shouted. 

A moment passed before Feyre answered, “... No,” in a much softer tone. 

“We missed part of the beginning,” Cassian chimed in. 

Azriel groaned, dropping his forehead against your shoulder as you were stunned into silence. He muttered something beneath his breath that sounded oddly similar to, “I swear I’m going to kill him one day.”

Azriel helped you to your feet and finally, you put on his shirt. 

“Are you happy now?” You teased, arms dropping to your sides. 

The corner of his lip twitched upwards. You looked… very good in his clothes with the sleeves rolled up and a sliver of your dress (now skirt) peeking out from beneath. 

He looked towards the vent, then wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you close so he could whisper, “I would be happier if I saw my shirt and that dress of yours on the floor of my bedroom.” 

His hand slid up your skirt, squeezing the back of your thighs in a way that had you stiffening. 

All at once he was second-guessing himself. Maybe he’d taken things too far. Maybe the lust-filled haze had cleared and you didn’t want him anymore. 

You swallowed and wrapped your hand around his wrist, gently guiding his fingers to your core. You let him know just how much you wanted this. 

A roar of blood sounded in the Shadowsinger’s ears. 

“I think that sounds like a very good plan.” You murmured in agreement and his eyes turned black as night.

He stole another long kiss before scooping you into his arms. 

“Az, where are we going?” You giggled into the curve of his throat as he flew down the hallway and stairs. “We just passed your bedroom.” 

“We’re not going to my bedroom.”

“Well we missed my bedroom too.” 

He didn’t respond.

Azriel skidded to a stop at the top of the staircase, already well aware that his family had gathered at the bottom and were waiting to bombard him with questions. 

Azriel smirked at you, leaned down, and kissed your cheek. “When I take you to bed properly, it won’t be with our nosey family members in the house.” He ran his tongue across the line of your jaw all the way to your earlobe and whispered, “I want any noises you make to be for me, and me alone.” 

“You are certainly a man of poetry, Az.”

He smiled. “Only for you.” 

“Well, well, well if it isn’t the two love—” Shadows flew into his mouth, muffling his words. “HEH! Azz! Whazthf—”

“I’ll see you in a week.” He said to no one in particular, his shadows opening the door of the River House. 

“Where are you going?” Mor asked, her eyes zeroing in on the bright red mark blossoming on your neck. What the fuck? She mouthed at you, giving you two thumbs up as Azriel crossed the doorway with you in his arms.

“None of your business. I’ll see you in a week.” Then he looked down at you, eyes growing soft. “We’ll see you in a week,” he corrected himself. 

Your stomach bottomed out, heat flowing through your body as you heard him make such a declaration in front of... well everyone. You couldn't wait to see where he would take you and where he would take you.

"Ready?" Azriel asked, a sultry smile growing on his face.

"Ready."

You wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your face in the hollow of his throat as he took off into the air. 

[suiana]

yandere! childhood friend who still reminisces about your childhood together. yeah, the two of you may be grown now but he's been your day 1 and he just can't help but think about how you used to cling to him and adore him so much! he wishes you'd still do that but it is what it is. no matter how much he wishes otherwise.

yandere! childhood friend who did everything with you. yeah, that also includes practicing kisses. he's your first kiss, and he's never gonna let you forget that. you said you wanted to get better and who is he to refuse? he can't pass up such a prime opportunity! and it's not like he wants anyone else to take it. god no. that would be a tragedy.

"yeah, remember our kissing practices? hah, we were such kids back then!" he watches as you snicker, feeling a warm flush creep up his spine. god, of course he remembers. young and immature as you both were, you both learned together. that's all that really matters to him. "thanks to you, i can now makeout with my partners with ease. you're the best man." and has he told you how muchit infuriates him that you're using your experience to get with others? to please them with the mouth that once touched his? nah, he really can't stand for it. but he isn't allowed to say anything. he's just a childhood friend after all. not for long though.

yandere! childhood friend who wishes he would've accepted your offer to learn how to fuck as well. but no, he just had to be way too delusional back then and tell you to wait for the right one. he must've thought that you'd feel the same and confess then he'd court you slowly before getting to that stage... that never happened unfortunately. not yet at least. he'll make it happen.

yandere! childhood friend who's still a hopeless romantic at heart. a delusional one but a romantic nonetheless. he brings you out on "platonic dates" or whatever the fuck you like to call it, comfort you after your shitty excuse of a partner dumps you, and treats you like the deity that you are. you only deserve the best and he'll be there to provide. none of these losers can't treat you well. he can. he really hopes it'll help you see him as a potential boyfriend!

"i just," you blow your nose, tears streaming down your cheeks as your childhood friend rubs at your back tenderly. "don't know why he'd want to dumo me! we've been going strong for a year already! it's so out of the blue!" yeah, out of the blue huh... not really out of the blue for someone who's been actively theeatening that poor excuse of a man. that menas him, obviously. why he's been threatening him, you ask? because he's not treating you the way you should be treated, duh! sure you look happy but are you really? probably not, he's sure of it. "hey hey, don't worry... I'm here now, aren't i?" he always is, and he always will. you just need to understand that fact and you'll start seeing him in a different light too. don't worry, he has lots of patience. just... don't go sleeping with other people again.

yandere! childhood friend who may or may not be totally super duper mega in love with you. yeah, definitely not in love with you. that would be weird, right? come on, he's your childhood friend! sure you two might've kissed when you were kids and promised to marry one another but those were kiddy promises! that's all they are! he... totally doesn't believe you actually wanna marry him and be his forever and ever.

"so have you started thinking about your future?" he pauses at your question, rubbing at his empty ring finger. future, huh? funny how you ask that when you two are destined to be together at the end of it all. i mean, the two of your promised it as kids, didn't you? sure you're exploring now but at the end if the day, it's him that you come back to, don't you? even if just as a friend. but that's the present, not the future. "nah, not really. just wanna focus on the current moment, y'know?" bullshit, and he knows it. but he doesn't wanna scare you away. not yet at least. you're still out lookign for others which means you haven't come round to the idea of you two together. not to worry, he'll give you a little more time to see how good he is. how good things could be between you two if you just gave him the chance. "i mean, you're here with me." he chuckles, taking your hand in his before placing it on his cheek. you're warm. he likes your warmth, it's so soothing. "that's more than enough for me." half lidded eyes gaze at you, full of emotion and hidden longing before he hums softly. the teo fo you sit in the park in silence, enjoying each other's presence. in the moonlight, everything seems to slow and engulf the two of you in a quiet embrace. he only wishes you would just love him back already. "yeah, I'm glad to be by your side too, best friend." ...he really hates those words. don't worry, good things come to those who wait. and you will be his in due time. you've already had his heart, now all he needs is yours.