#fluffy prompts fits asks

[minteayoongimakesmewoozi]

[aggressively side-shoves the person in front of me] Hi! Hello, can i get two orders of fluffy and soft pancake couples with extra sweet syruppy moments?

14. "i've been looking for my hoodie-" "my hoodie, you mean."

Tanyame ofc, though this one i would fits *haha* modern au established relationship.

18. "you're cold?" "no? it's super sunny right now-" "take my jacket anyway."

Fujiko and/or Yorichii or michikatsu

Sank 💕

LSDNFEWNOEFO it's okay there aren't many people for u to shove!!!!! but yes i can absolutely do my best to serve up some fluffy pancakes for u!!!!! esp cos we need it, considering what happened in ch116.........

and i will take any reason to write fujiko 🥺🥺🥺 thank u for feeding my fujiko and sengoku era squad obsession as always!!!!!! <3

14. "i've been looking for my hoodie-" "my hoodie, you mean."

(modern!au)

Tanjirou was used to a routine when he returned home from work. He would open the door to his cat greeting him with a meow, followed by his girlfriend meeting him in the genkan with a kiss and a murmured, "Okaeri." That was the signal for the burdens of the day to disappear from his shoulders.

However, there was a shift in routine when he called out "Tadaima!" and was met with silence after the customary greeting by Shirogane.

He blinked, taking in the quiet living room. The lights were on, which meant that Ayame was home from work, but she wasn't heading over to greet him. The kitchen was empty as well; no clanging of pots and pans as Ayame wrestled with the temperamental stove that they kept saying they would replace.

Tanjirou put away his coat, stepping into his house slippers with a concerned sound. Shirogane wound around his legs before sauntering off to do what he did best - napping in the early evening sunlight until it was dinnertime.

"Ayame?" he called out.

There was a thump, then sounds from their bedroom. Ayame appeared, her bun half-unravelled, the loosened curls sitting on one shoulder.

"Tanjirou, you're home! I didn't hear you," she said apologetically, leaning up to press a distracted kiss to his lips. "Okaeri."

His hands settled on her hips before she could draw away. The corners of her lips twitched, her hands resting on his shoulder in return.

"What's wrong?" he asked, thumbs rubbing circles against the worn fabric of her t-shirt. He recognised it; it was his old baseball jersey from high school. "Did something happen at work today, love?"

"No - well, yes," she admitted at Tanjirou's eyebrow raise, "but that's not the point."

"No?"

"I've been looking for my hoodie - "

"My hoodie, you mean."

"Our hoodie," she retorted. "Don't be selfish, Tanjirou."

Tanjirou couldn't help the grin that helplessly tugged at his lips. He shouldn't have been so happy; Ayame had just confessed to having a bad day at work, although it was obvious enough when he saw his old baseball jersey hanging off her frame. She only ever wore it when she needed comfort and he wasn't around to provide it immediately. Her workplace was much closer than his, after all.

"Anyway," Ayame continued, playing with the hair at his nape, "I can't find it. Do you know where it is?"

He hummed, fingers locking at the small of her back so he could pull her flush against his chest. She followed easily, gravitating into his orbit without a complaint.

"Sunshine?"

"Hm?"

Tanjirou blinked his eyes open - he wasn't aware they had closed. He nuzzled the top of her head, humming once more at the familiar scent of her shampoo.

"The hoodie?" she questioned.

Right. The hoodie. It was a hoodie that was about two sizes too big on him, with a green-and-black icihimatsu pattern. He had gotten it as a birthday present from his family when he was fifteen and it had been so hilariously huge that he could still wear it even now that he was well into his adult years. From the moment he started dating Ayame, she was wearing it more often than not. He didn't mind - it looked much better on her than it ever did on him.

"I think we left it at Zenitsu's place," he said thoughtfully.

The last time she had worn it was on their double date with Zenitsu and Nezuko. They had returned to Zenitsu's apartment afterwards, and they'd had another heated games night as usual.

Ayame's expression fell. Tanjirou leaned down to kiss her frown away, helplessly charmed by the way she loved that old hoodie so much.

When they broke apart, foreheads pressed together, she murmured, "We should go get it back."

"Mn, sure." He pressed his lips to hers again, spinning her so she was walking back towards the living room. "But not right now. It's late."

"It's barely seven," she protested, although she allowed him to walk her backwards until her calves hit the sofa. "Tanjirou, the hoodie - "

"You don't need it," he assured her. "I'm here now, okay?"

"You just got back from work."

"It's fine, it's fine."

"You stink. You need a shower. You smell like sweat and sugar."

Her nose wrinkled. She was never very fond of overly sweet things, even though she was dating a pastry chef.

Tanjirou smirked. "Let go of me so I can take a shower, then."

Her arms wound around his neck, a stubborn pout on her lips. Always so contradictory, his Ayame.

"Maybe after one more kiss," Ayame said, fingers sliding into his hair. "Then you can go."

Tanjirou ducked his head down, lips meeting hers. He knew as well as she did that they never stopped at one more kiss. But hey, who was he to tell her otherwise?

He had lost count of how many kisses they'd had when the doorbell rang. He let out a groan, unwilling to move from his spot where he was draped over Ayame as she lay on the couch. He gave her a beseeching look, begging her to ignore it. Unfortunately, the doorbell rang once more, followed by a staccato knock that could only be Zenitsu.

Ayame chuckled, pressing a fleeting kiss to his cheek. "Think this is payback for all the times you interrupted him and Nezuko?" she teased.

"Probably," Tanjirou grumbled, moving so she could answer the door.

It wasn't his fault he hadn't realised Zenitsu was trying to woo Nezuko!

He rolled into the warmth Ayame left behind, finally letting his body settle into the old sofa. He only raised himself on his elbows when Ayame excitedly called out his name.

"Look!" she gasped, eyes lighting up in delight.

He smiled helplessly. "Well, would you look at that."

She was already Tanjirou's oversized hoodie, the too-long sleeves flapping about as she waved her arms. There was a pleased flush on her cheeks, and Tanjirou just felt like he was falling for her all over again. To think she would be so happy over such a small thing.

"Hope I'm not intruding," Zenitsu said - as if he cared if he did.

Tanjirou snorted. "Of course not." He gave his blonde friend a warm smile. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it." Zenitsu turned to Ayame. "Inosuke told me what happened at work today. Must've been embarrassing, ne?"

Ayame stilled. She turned her head slowly to glare at Zenitsu. "Don't."

Tanjirou sat up. His curiousity was piqued.

"What happened?"

"We don't have to talk about it," Ayame answered hurriedly. "Come on, Tanjirou - look! I have my hoodie back!"

"Our hoodie," he muttered under his breath with no small amount of amusement. "And hey, I want to know!"

"Great!" Zenitsu grinned. "Inosuke's coming over in half an hour with takeout. He saw the whole thing."

Ayame scowled. "I hate you guys."

Tanjirou laughed, beckoning her over. She begrudgingly shuffled over, still pouting even as she stood between his legs.

"You love us," he teased, pulling her down by the sleeves for one more kiss.

Her gaze softened when she pulled away. Her hands, buried in his hoodie sleeves, cupped his cheeks before she was leaning back in for another kiss. As usual, one more kiss was never enough.

"I love you," she whispered against his lips.

"Guys, seriously," Zenitsu whined, causing the couple to pull apart. "Look, I'm so happy you guys are a loving couple, but give it a break."

"I'll give you a break, alright," Ayame huffed, glaring at Zenitsu. "Break one of your bones."

Tanjirou laughed into Ayame's stomach. Fingers slipping under her hoodie and shirt, he traced I love you too onto the warm skin of her lower back. Her warm glance told him she knew that too.

18. "you're cold?" "no? it's super sunny right now-" "take my jacket anyway."

(modern!au)

Fujiko couldn't believe her luck.

It had been pouring when she left her house. The dark clouds had dominated the sky before she could blink, and a heavy downpour had dropped right onto her head. Of course, it had to be the one day she had forgotten her umbrella at home. She had to run to the station, glaring out at the deluge that had accompanied her walk.

And now...

"Unbelievable," she muttered to herself.

The sky was a bright blue, the sun shining down cheerfully. A few fluffy white clouds floated amongst the azure expanse.

The journey had only taken half an hour. How the hell?

"What happened to you?"

Fujiko turned at the sound of her friend's voice. Michikatsu was looking down at her still-damp clothes, utterly puzzled.

"It rained when I left the house," she sighed, shaking her head. "I guess the wind blew the storm away from here."

A brisk wind blew past, causing a shiver to wrack through her body. She had thought it was bad in the air-conditioned depths of the train, but even with the sun's warmth beating down on her, her drenched clothes were keeping the cold locked close to her skin.

Yoriichi caught sight of her and immediately coughed.

"You're cold?" he asked, already removing his jacket.

"No?" Fujiko lied. At Yoriichi's bland look, she added, "It's super sunny right now - "

"Take my jacket anyway."

His jacket was shoved into her arms.

Fujiko blinked. She didn't think Yoriichi had ever acted so insistent before.

"Yoriichi, I'll get it wet," she protested, trying to return it to him.

He glanced down at her, then immediately averted his gaze.

"It - It's fine," he insisted. "Just take it - put it on. Please."

"But why?"

Yoriichi winced. "Don't... ask. Just - please."

"I don't understand - "

"Your bra is showing," Michikatsu interjected flatly. "Fujiko, please."

Oh.

... Oh!

It was the middle of summer, so her pale pink blouse was made of a thin material to keep her cool. She hadn't expected the sudden summer rain, and...

Her cheeks heated up.

"That explains why everyone was staring at me," she said weakly. "I'm going to crawl into a hole and hide forever."

Yoriichi laughed quietly, glancing at her as she buried her face in his jacket. "Don't do that. Just put on my jacket and it'll be fine."

Bemoaning her own idiocy, she pulled her hands through the sleeves and zipped it up halfway. The long sleeves fell over her fingers. A warm and spiced scent tickled her nose - the scent of Yoriichi's cologne.

Fujiko sighed. "I look ridiculous."

"It's fine," Yoriichi assured her. "We're going to see a movie anyway."

She peered up at him. "Won't you be cold?"

He shook his head.

With a smirk, Michikatsu muttered, "You guys can always share body heat."

Fujiko reached over to punch him in the arm in outrage. Yoriichi merely reddened and ducked his head.

"Don't joke around like that," she hissed, wishing her ears didn't feel so hot.

Michikatsu gave her a bland look. She didn't know why he was so insistent that Yoriichi had feelings for her. That was the most ridiculous thing she had ever heard in her life. Everyone knew that he was in love with Uta - Michikatsu better than anyone.

"Where's Keichirou-kun?" Yoriichi asked, stepping between Fujiko and his brother before their bickering could escalate.

Fujiko slipped her hands into Yoriichi's jacket pockets, warming her cold hands. "He's waiting for us at the movie theatre."

"Better get a move on, then," said Michikatsu, lengthening his strides.

Fujiko let out an annoyed sound in the back of her throat; he knew she couldn't keep up with him like that!

Thankfully, Yoriichi remained by her side instead of leaving her in the dust. He was silent, which wasn't a strange occurrence, except that this silence felt like he was holding something back.

Fujiko smiled warmly. "Well, Yoriichi? You can say whatever is on your mind."

Yoriichi glanced at her, only to have his gaze skitter away.

"... It looks good on you," he confessed quietly.

"Hm?"

"The jacket. It looks better on you than it does on me."

There was a quiet confession in his voice. Fujiko thought that maybe it was possible Yoriichi might see her as more than a friend.

Maybe.

[jamminvroomvroom]

congrats on 5k queen! you’re writing is so brilliant beyond belief and you deserve all the love and support this site has to offer. can i request lando+angsty smut (the best combo)…prompts along the lines of “i don’t think im ever going to love anyone the way i love you”//“i don’t think i want to love anyone else”

how did it end?

ln x famous fem!reader

in which it ends, until…

i love this fic with my whole heart. thank u sm for this request, anon, and for being so absolutely for gorgeous and kind <3 kicking off the 5k celebration with a big, sad, sexy bang! lemme know what you think, hugs n kisses

songs to set the mood: how did it end? by taylor swift

warnings: 18+!! minors dni!! smut, angst angst angst, fluff, happy ending! exes to lovers, just. a lot going on. sad!lando, sad!everyone, so many feels, r is a big deal model, alcohol consumption, mentions of smoking

4.1k words

one gasp, and then…

“how did it end?” the woman strokes your arm, soothing, tentative.

you don’t know her all that well, she’s signed to the same agency as you, you see her in the halls sometimes and sit next to her in makeup chairs.

you stare blankly at her, registering. news travels fast apparently.

you smile, small, fake, tilting your head to the side. you mumble something about different schedules, timezones, right person, wrong time. she watches your face intently, with sympathy. you want to throttle her. she’s being kind and you despise her for it right now.

“i won’t tell anyone.” she affirms, her fingers still smoothing over the skin of your arm.

yes you will, you think. all of her friends, the rest of the building will know exactly what you’ve told her by the time you get to your meeting. you don’t begrudge her, though, that’s the nature of the industry.

“well, it was good to see you.” you nod, even go in for a quick hug, and then you speed away, beelining for the elevator. the ride is short, your managers office somewhere on the third floor and you shuffle down the corridor, ready to be informed of what your life will look like for the next three months.

fittings, shoots, paris trip.

mhm.

swimwear season, charlotte tilbury, meeting with the vogue journalist.

cool.

week off, few days in london, monaco grand prix.

no.

“what? no.” you splutter. out of habit, you reach for a necklace, frown when you realise it’s no longer there.

“what do you mean, no?” she narrows her eyes at you.

“i can’t go to the race. no.”

“girl, i love you, but did i ask?”

“you know i can’t-“

“you won’t have to see him.” she reasons.

“but what if i do? he’s obviously gonna be there, and the events before and after- no. no.”

“lando norris is not gonna be the end of you.”

you stifle a laugh, one that sounds more like a strangled cry.

what if he already was?

-

look who we ran into at the shops,

walking in circles like he was lost

lando stares at the shampoo.

specifically, the one you use. used. he can’t be too sure anymore, he supposes.

he’d popped out for a loaf of bread, about an hour ago. he didn’t want to acknowledge how long he’d been staring at the women’s toiletries section.

you seemed to live on, everywhere. lando could see you in his apartment, the passenger seat of his car, the back of the garage. even the fucking supermarket wasn’t safe. you were very much alive, moving on with life, and yet you haunted him like he’d killed you himself.

perhaps he had, in a way.

the basket grazes the outside of his leg.

that’s the shower gel he’d buy for you, the one you only used when you stayed with him in monaco.

there’s the tampons you asked him to buy, crying back at home on your- his bed.

oh, and there’s the shampoo that you made him buy, the one that you told him made his curls feel extra fluffy when he was between your legs-

“lando?” a voice calls, drawing lando out of the mist.

“oh, alex. hey.” lando croaks. he hasn’t noticed the lump in his throat until now. he clears his throat, running a hand through his hair.

“what you doing, mate?” alex asks, eyebrows furrowed. he scans lando’s face, puffy eyes, watery.

“shopping.”

“for women’s shampoo?”

“no, no, just… looking.” lando stutters.

“when was the last time you slept?” alex’s voice is laced with concern, apprehensive. he doesn’t know what to say to his heartbroken friend.

lando smiles weakly.

“i’ve been sleeping.”

alex sighs.

“okay, when was the last time you slept properly, then?”

lando’s shoulders visibly sag.

“about a month ago.”

-

we hereby conduct this post-mortem

“we can’t do this anymore.”

the words fall from your lips in a whisper, but they reach him like you’ve screamed them at him. he sits opposite you, in the arm chair, so far away, only a metre or so.

“i know.” lando breathes shakily.

“i don’t want this but…”

“yeah.”

it’s been such a good year. you’re in love. it’s not enough. there’s too much distance, too many outsider opinions, too much longing for someone who’s on the other side of the world.

he’ll be in london. you’ll be in brazil.

he’ll be in australia. you’ll be in amsterdam.

it’s too much.

“i love you, though.” you remind him meekly.

“don’t know how to not love you.” he sniffles.

your heart shatters, the pieces flying over the room, spilling across the floor. they mix with the splinters of his, painting the room red. all you feel is blue.

you cry in his arms when he takes you to bed, his own tears spilling over your collar bone when he buries his head in your neck, licks over the marks he’s left there. to remember me by, he’d muttered dryly.

when you’re both finished, he lays there for a moment, still on top of you. damp with sweat and tears, the taste of one another still lingering on your tongues.

“how is it possible that i miss you already?” he pants, lips grazing just below your ear.

“i get it, lan. i’ve been missing you for a while.”

you’re gone when he wakes up.

and so, a touch that was my birthright became foreign

-

come one, come all

it’s happening again

the empathetic hunger descends

there are about six cameras pointed at you when he asks the dreaded question.

you’re in new york, sat on a talk show hosts sofa, lit by stage lights and his inquisitive eyes. two hundred people sit in the audience, on the edge of their seats waiting for you to spill your secrets.

“so, what happened there, with lando?”

you plaster on the fakest smile to date, crossing your legs anxiously.

“we’re both just so busy, you know? he’s doing amazing things in f1 and i’m all over the place with work.”

“we love both of you over here, it was sad to hear.” he sympathises, adjusting his tie and leaning back in his chair. his fingers drum over the wood of his desk, waiting for more.

vultures. everyone is a vulture.

“and we still have a lot of love for each other. he’s a wonderful person.”

there are tears in your eyes and bile rising rapidly in your throat when you shake hands with the crew, the host, and retreat to your dressing room. you stumble into the en-suite and throw up. then, you fall onto the sofa and cry. you fix your makeup at godspeed and reply to the text from your team, inviting you to drinks at some rooftop bar, promising to meet them there. you punctuate the text with one too many exclamation marks, feigning excitement.

“we still have a lot of love for each other.”

translation: i can’t understand: how did it end?

-

lando watches your interview. of course he does. he watches everything that you do, watches the way you set the world on fire.

he can’t help himself where you’re concerned, like an addict craving the next hit. you look so pretty on tv, glowing. you look fine.

god, why do you look fine?

he hates himself for hating just how fine you look. he is not fine.

“he’s a wonderful person.”

your words ring in his ears. they anger him, because if he’s oh-so-wonderful, why aren’t you here? why isn’t he there with you, waiting backstage? why can’t you just hate him? why can’t he just hate you? maybe you will, if he shows you just how not wonderful he can be.

he gets drunk that night. forces max to hit the clubs with him. sticks his tongue down a pliant woman’s throat. doesn’t ask her name. let’s her invite him back to her place. it has to be her place, he can’t fuck someone else in your bed, the one you used to share. he leaves minutes after he’s pulled out. he’s sure she’s lovely, too good for him and his bitter fucking heart. he feels utterly disgusting.

lando goes home, scrubs his skin red, and then does it again. he doesn’t go to sleep, watches from his balcony as the sun begins to rise over the sea. he hikes to the highest point he can reach in monaco, where it’s quiet and there’s no one to judge him, or worse, sympathise with him.

he stands at the edge of the cliff. screams once, twice. he sits on a rock, and lets himself cry.

the deflation of our dreaming

leaving me bereft and reeling

my beloved ghost and me

sitting in a tree

d-y-i-n-g

-

your stylist is plying you with options.

you can wear the denim with the cream OR you could do the red and white? or we can go full glam! or! or! or! we could-

you drown her out. you don’t give a fuck. not a single one.

what you wear to the monaco grand prix is quite literally the least of the your problems. your biggest problem, of course, is that you have to go to the fucking thing.

visibility is important, get people talking! the words of your manager ring in your ears until you have a dull migraine brewing behind your ears.

you leave the fitting not entirely sure what you’re wearing, but your stylist will be sending the clothes over so you can pack.

when you land in all too familiar nice, there are cameras. when you get to the hotel in monaco, you and lando are already trending on twitter. well, at least he knows you’re coming. when you’re getting your makeup done before your first event, you get a text.

i’ll try and keep my distance.

try.

try is such an interesting word. the fact that he has to try to stay away makes your belly flutter with embarrassing, self loathing butterflies. don’t try too hard, you want to respond. you don’t.

should’ve told you i’d be here you shoot back.

you think i didn’t already know?

of course he knew. he’d probably asked god knows how many brands to invite you. you try and feign an illness but your team drag you kicking and screaming to the event.

-

there are no two ways about it: you’re drunk, on a tuesday night, somewhere in the principality. a few cocktails with a jewellery brand turned into a night on the town, bar hopping with people you hardly knew and barely recognised.

you’re shaking your ass in jimmy’z, pretending to have fun when you see him.

lando stands at the bar, watching you, jaw tensed, eyes solemn. you exit the club faster that his car down a back straight, stumbling into the smoking area. you bum a cigarette from a guy who tries really hard to convince you that he’s the son of a british lord, and sink into the corner, ignoring the people recording you.

depressed model shame smokes outside monaco club because she is fucking pathetic, the headlines will read.

“thought you quit that shit.” his voice washes over your body like you’ve been set on fire, smooth tone, ambiguous accent making you ache.

“i did but then i got forced to come to monaco, so.” you shrug.

“forced?”

“‘m here for work.” you sigh.

“i guess i am too.” he mumbles. you raise an eyebrow.

“you live here, lan.” you tease. lan rolls off of your tongue too sweetly.

“doesn’t feel like it anymore.”

how can it, without you? he wants to scream at you. he can’t, you don’t deserve it.

“how are you?”

you want to touch him.

“shit.”

he needs a taste.

“yeah.”

you put your cigarette out. it tastes like shit, half smoked.

you stand there, stare at each other.

take me home, you want to beg.

come home, he clenches his fists, trying not to grab you and remind you how you’ll always be his, right here, up against the side of the club.

“good luck, if i don’t see you.” you whisper. you linger, praying that he’ll beg you to stay so that you can crumble into his arms, without having to make the first move.

lando ponders his options. his head and his heart wage a war.

logic wins, unfortunately.

“thank you.”

you take that as your queue to get the fuck out of there, and disappear into the night.

-

it’s raining on sunday. the dreary weather seems to perfectly sum up what has been the worst week of your life.

you’ve seen your ex boyfriend more times than you can count, ended up with about four hangovers as a result, and with a pounding head, you have to sit in the paddock club and wait for the sound of engines to split your head in half. it was your own doing, so you’d suck it up, recognising that you were a disgustingly privileged bitch, and there are people who would sell their kidneys to do what you’re complaining about.

you never complain, not usually. but your heart hurts and your body hearts and your mind hurts and it’s just not fair. lando is gorgeous, and you miss him so badly, and your shoes are digging in. who the fuck thinks it’s a good idea to wear heels to an f1 race?

you see him before the race, mouth good luck from afar. he winks. it’s something you used to do before every race. old habits die screaming.

the rain falls harder, the track slick. you say a prayer and take your seat.

“norris has this in the bag, he’s bloody good in the wet.” you hear some old guy say behind you. you are cursed with the knowledge of just how good in the wet he is, and you end up flushed.

he wins. his second one in three races. you pray that no one notices the way you weep. everyone notices.

you make a mistake and rush for the podium, your pass giving you access. he graces the top step and you sob, grinning like a fool, soaked through with rain. the anthem plays, the champagne pops. he finds your eyes in the crowd. your hair falls, stringy and curled, mascara smudged. you are the most breathtaking sight. he stands still, washed with an onslaught of champagne, watching you like he’s scared to take his eyes off of you. his boyish grin and hopeful eyes render you weak - you’re there for him, after all - and he can’t help but bask in that little fact.

dangerous territory. you break, and disappear.

-

say it once again with feeling…

the photographers barely get a second to snap a picture of the top three, because lando is gone. he takes the stairs two at a time, descending from the podium and throwing his pirelli cap and a shaky apology at his pr rep. the adrenaline spike makes his blood rush; he needs to find you and stop you and tell you that he will never be able to stop loving you.

the exit is the natural assumption, and he nearly slips a thousand times as he sprints through the paddock. the ground is wet, but he figures that if his car made it, so can he. the gates are in sight, and so are you, your clothes sticking to your shivering frame.

he calls your name, thunderously travelling towards you, his voice hitting your ears like a sonic boom. you freeze, turn slowly until your facing him. the rain splashes around you, not letting up.

you’re within his reach, and he pulls you in, hugging you tight. you melt into him, clinging like he’s a life force. he inhales you, your scent that he’s missed so horrifically. you crumble, and so does he, pieced back together as one.

“i can’t do this, i can’t.” he kisses the words into the cold skin of your neck.

“no, neither can i.” you choke wetly with emotion.

“miss you too much. it’s too hard, it’s stupid, it’s-“

“wrong. it’s wrong. ‘m sorry.” your breath fans his face, breathing life into him, life that he’d lost four months ago.

he grabs your shoulders, lowering so that his eyes are level with yours. his curls fall over his eyes, sodden from the rain.

“i don’t think, no, i know: i’m never gonna love anyone the way i love you.” lando speaks slow, convincing. your chest is tight.

“i don’t want to love anyone else.” you croak, the lump in your throat making it hard to breathe.

“come back to me.” he mutters, pleading.

“don’t think i ever left.” you breathe, hushed.

your lips slot over his easily, it’s like breathing. the kiss is messy, helpless, and he engulfs you whole, his body wrapping around yours like a blanket. you latch onto his race-suit, drawing him in, and then you both seem to remember where you are.

lando norris caught kissing ex like horny teenager in monaco paddock!

you pull away with breathless chuckle. the air is fresh, and you feel alive. he steals another peck.

“wait for me at home. i’ll be quick.” his hand finds you ass, just for a second and you scold him playfully.

home.

yeah, home.

“don’t make me wait.” you grin.

his brain short circuits.

“do you still have your key?” he splutters, refocusing.

you scoff. “never took it off the chain.”

-

you pace the apartment, taking in the space. it hasn’t changed, but it’s messier, a visual representation of lando since you left. the pit of your belly swirls with anxiety, anticipation. he’ll be back soon, and he’ll kiss you, make love to you, remind you that you’re home and that it’d be stupid to leave again.

you’re still damp from the rain, shedding layers until you’re left in your vest and jeans, ridiculous heels kicked off by the door, your jacket airing over the back of a chair.

he hasn’t taken down the pictures of you together. he hasn’t moved your ugly collection of magnets from the fridge. he hasn’t changed the blinds that you chose, but he didn’t really like. your candles sit on the bookshelf half burned, the teddy he’d won you at a fair sits neatly on the sofa. the L pendant and it’s chain is strewn over the coffee table, right where you left it the morning after it ended. your breathing is heavy.

the front door opens behind you.

you don’t move, your eyes still fixed on the silver chain, overwhelmed by how empty your neck feels all of the sudden. he comes up behind you, his head resting on your shoulder, arms finding home around your waist. you often used to find yourselves in this exact position; while you brushed your teeth, made coffee. the room is deathly silent, breathing and the distant buzz of post race festivities the only thing you can hear. lando follows your gaze.

“kept it. knew that one day, you’d come back for it.”

“i came back for you.”

“and that necklace will stay with you when i can’t be there.”

you nod. he kisses your neck.

“missed you so bad.” you gasp. he licks your skin, bites down softly.

you spin in his arms, his hands pawing at your hips and everything blurs when he kisses you.

-

shaky fingers work over zippers, buttons, clasps, and then you’re both bare. you sink into the mattress that you missed so much, his body moulded with yours when you both tumble into the sheets. this is messy and frantic, utterly lovestruck. the lightning strike of his touch has you keening, sweating beneath him already.

“missed you. missed this.”

“do something, lan.” you cry, quiet against his shoulder.

“missed my perfect girl.” he grunts, lips working your chest while his fingers leave a trail of goosebumps over your inner thigh.

“please.” you sigh when his fingers dip between your folds, sliding over your wet flesh. his lip catches between his teeth, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of you.

he thumbs at your clit, stroking over you in slow, firm swipes, and then he’s sinking a digit into you, slow and steady. your toes curl, tears pricking your eyes at the intrusion, but you don’t have much of a chance to adjust, a second finger joining the first. he fucks you full, the stretch of just two fingers making you whine, one hand threading into the sheets while the other slams over your mouth. you want to hide, the pleasure rendering you a mess across the pale grey linen.

“no, let me look at you.” lando rasps, spare hand tugging at your wrist. you whine, writhing when he curls his fingers. “why are you hiding?”

you can’t hold back the choked cry that sounds from the back of your throat, his palm bumping your clit as he grinds his fingers deep.

“gone shy on me, baby? where’s my good girl gone?” lando coos, moving so that he’s leaning over you. the angle change sends your legs flying, kicking out at the sweet torture. “‘s because you haven’t been fucked right in so long, hm? can’t remember how to behave?” he’s smirking down at you, scanning the changing lines of your face.

“need it, need-“ you stutter, the words dying on your tongue.

“words, pretty girl, words.” lando encourages, false sympathy dripping from his tongue.

“need to cum, want you to make me…” you trail off.

“was that so hard?” he tuts, and everything speeds up.

the sound of him working you so sweetly makes you shake, your thighs clenching tight around his hand. the wet squelch hits your ears and you blush, cheeks coloured deep with embarrassment, awe, desperation.

your mouth drops open, screaming silently when it hits, your thighs slick. you drip down his wrist, his hand covered in your release.

“there’s my girl.” lando sighs, diving down to kiss you hard.

you can feel the damp press of his fingers as they dig into your thighs and you squirm beneath him, finding your way into his mouth.

“fuck me.” you slur, teeth knocking with his. he swallows you whole, groaning into your mouth.

“not so shy now, hm? been dreaming of hearing you beg for it.” lando shudders, shifting between your legs.

you can feel the press of him, thick against your cunt and you wiggle your hips, pushing to meet him halfway. the stretch burns deliciously, and you grab at his shoulders, dragging him in.

“fuck, baby.” he breathes, sinking into you slowly. “feel like heaven.” disbelief coats his voice, like he can’t reconcile that this is real; you’re back here, his, in the bed you were always supposed to share.

“it’s so good. feel so good for me, lan.” you whisper, lacing your fingers through his hair.

“love you so much.” he kisses you like he means it, rocking into you with purpose.

“can’t believe i lived without this.”

“can’t believe you’re all mine.”

the release builds, every thrust reminding you of what you could have lost for good. there was no lack of love, in fact you were starting to wonder if you had loved each other too much before.

“never losing you again. can’t live without you. my beautiful girl.”

your tummy grows tight, and he finds your clit when he feels you clamp down on him. he pulls you through the pleasure, guides you to your orgasm and you blindly follow him. you’d follow him anywhere, you decide.

you tell him you love him when you let go, spilling all around him, warm. he’s panting, kisses your forehead gently. he rolls off of you, and you feel the slow drip instantly, but you curl into his side and he wraps around you.

home.

“promise me something.” he whispers. you feel the way he shakily inhales.

“hm?”

“don’t leave again. you belong here, too. with me.”

your eyes are watery.

“i’m staying. ‘m yours.”

“about that…”

lando springs from the bed, naked, disappearing from the room. you watch, confused, cold all of the sudden.

you can hear his footsteps padding through the hallway, and then he’s back, his figure in the hallway. he runs, jumps, lands gracelessly next to you. endeared, you laugh softly.

“sit up.”

you do, leaning up to sit next to him. his fingers skim your shoulder, pushing your hair out of the way. cool metal dances over your skin.

“back where it belongs.” lando smiles at you, eyes wide and stunning.

you toy with the L. something heals in your chest, right around where your heart is.

“the sweetest boy.” you shake your head in disbelief, grin up at him like a fool.

“bath?”

“you know me so well, noz.”

come one, come all

it’s happening again

-

oh, my heart. there is something deeply wrong with me

-

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[reverie-verse]

Azriel x Reader: The Bond of a Century

An old request that I decided to revamp

Request prompt: Can I request an Azriel x reader where the mating bond snaps for Azriel but not the reader? Kind of like how Feyra didn’t know Rhys was her mate till she was told.

My prompt: A bond forgotten for over a century and a half makes its way back to the forefront. All of it starts with Rhys asking for a favor.

This is a fluffy, steamy, angst-ish fic

I hope you enjoy!!!! My requests are open!!!

____________________________

This was the last thing you thought you would be doing for Rhys. Out of all the things, this-this is what he chose for you to do. Rhys had a sick twisted mind that put you in a situation you had no desire of being in or a part of. You mentally cursed at the high lord, hating him in the moment even though he was your dearest friend. Elain scoured the city for certain pots for her plants, and certain seeds for her garden. Azriel right by her side and you trailing behind them. All you wanted to do was to go back to your home near the docks. It was the first home you had when you first moved from Dawn to Velaris less than a century ago, but with some convincing Rhys and Feyre were able to get you to stay at the town house. It was only then did her sisters arrive, and at some point you were put to the task of keeping an eye on Elain with the occasional visit of Az. Honestly you wished you could train with Nesta, but Cassian was chosen for that task. You wouldn’t have minded living in the house of wind-“ I think I need to go to Day Court or maybe Spring,Oh perhaps we go to Dawn instead. They must have better pots.” Elain speaks more to Azriel than she does you. You were eyeing the various shops, and the people delighted to be around you, each grinning and waving at you. Another beautiful thing about Velaris you’d come to love. People were kind here.

Azriel smiled softly at her “ Of course, if that’s what you want” his voice was tender and sweet. You fought the urge to roll your eyes, turning your attention elsewhere. You hated being there dealing with this shit, but Rhys insisted you tag along, “It’s good for the soul. Get some fresh air” with that insane cat-like smirk. Ooo you shoot daggers into your mind, a deep chuckle echoing in the background.

“ Yes that’s what I want, thank you Az” Elain returned the gesture.

“ Alright then I’ll let Rhys and Feyre know-“ You say as you pinched a flower petal between your thumb and index finger. You looked away from it then back at them. The two watched you with curiosity, you let go of the petal. It was no simple task, an easy reminder of what you needed to do and a simple approval came from Rhys. A gentle poke in your mind causes you to shake your head.“-Let's get this over with” You take steps towards them placing your hands on their arms you effortlessly winnow the three of you to Dawn. The landing was gentle and less sickening, the three of you placed in a Market, one that you were familiar with.. Elain squealed with excitement as she rushed over to an area where she had seen fresh flowers, a few shops down could be seen a pottery shop, the two of you already trailing her.

“ Look at this beautiful bouquet! Y/N? Should we get this for the town house?” She gestures to the bouquet filled with many vibrant colors, various shapes and sizes. You were stumped, she normally doesn’t ask you these questions most of the time they were directed at Az.

“They look lovely Elain, I’m sure they’ll fit anywhere you put them..” You replied not really sure how to respond. Honestly you’ve never really thought about what flowers you liked or didn’t . It wasn’t something that was ever given to you, nor something you found and immediately fell in love with. You didn’t have anything against anyone who knew what they liked, you just-never had the experience of looking forward to your own set of plants. Even when you first attempted gardening most of your plants and flowers died, you simply didn’t have the skill or the eye for it..but that was okay, though on rare occasions it was something you wished you had..

Elain smiles awkwardly “ Well, maybe we can get it, it might brighten up the home. Make it seem more natural..comfortable” She pulls out her coins, handing it to the shopkeeper. The three of you move further heading over to the pottery shop that she explained earlier how she wanted to visit. Your eyes searched the area, checking for predators, anyone who might cause harm to the high lady’s sister, before entering the shop. You had other plans that you needed to attend to while the two looked around, it was in the midst of Elains discussion, mostly to Azriel about the various styles of pottery, that you planned to sneak off. It was only then did a voice capture your attention from behind you.

“ Y/N, I must admit I never pegged as you someone who might be interested in pottery” Thesan, high lord of Dawn, speaks out, the entire shop haunting their work to bow at his presence. He waved his hand dismissing them easily back to work. Azriel positions himself so that he stands near you with Elain behind him, she peers her head out, trying to see who it was that spoke so elegantly. A small smile graces your features at that familiar voice you knew so well as you shifted to face Thesan, who was already grinning. Azriel didn’t miss it, taking note of it.

“What if I was?” You retorted,

“ Then that would be a surprise”

“I hate to burst your bubble High Lord but I’m here on business not for pleasure” You replied, the two of you sharing a small laugh together. Azriel forced his expression into neutrality, Elains eyes sparkled with curiosity and intrigue. Thesan looks behind you for a moment, taking in the Shadowsinger and the woman next to him.

“ Ouch, that one hurt Y/N, I see you brought friends, Shadowsinger” Thesan greets civilly no hate present.

“ Thesan,” Azriel gives a simple head nod in his direction, there was no need for malice, Thesan had always been a great friend of Rhys’s and now apparently yours. Though a feeling crept inside his chest, this odd feeling takes root, Azriel does his best to shove it away, especially with Elain right next to him..

“ And you must be Elain, one of the sisters of High Lady Night.”

“ Yes I am. It’s a pleasure to meet you” Elain smiles with a blush that creeps along her cheeks. She wasn’t sure how to respond being that a high lord, whom she never met knew she existed. The surrealness of the situation becomes a reality, the more she realizes how well known her sister is, how well known both of her sisters are including herself. A delighted yet astonishing experience for her, something she wasn’t used to yet.

“ Same to you, i hope you don’t mind if I borrow Y/N for a moment or two, there’s somethings I’d like to discuss” Thesan offered but secretly it was a meeting that needed to take place. You were in fact here on business, something that Rhys specifically shared with you and no one else. Dawn used to be your home, but when you were moved to Velaris, you became the seg way for Dawn and Night. Your job was to be the emissary for both sides, keeping the courts relationship in even better shape. You missed your home dearly at times, and you missed Thesan whom you were extremely close too, and who you cared about, even with this being only for business there was some pleasure that came out of it.

“ No of course not, I’m sure she could use a break from us, right Azriel?” Elain looks up to him but his eyes were trained on you and Thesan. You were ready to join him without so much as another word, it struck a nerve in him, why? What could possibly be the topic of conversation between you two? Why do you only need to speak with him? Surely Rhys would’ve told him what this meeting was about? Why hadn’t you come to him for advice or as a second set of ears? Why was the meeting a secret?-“Azriel?”Elain calls out to him, you were looking at him suspiciously, your eyebrows furrowed, your eyes flickering across every part of his face and bodily language. Azriel adjusts himself, shielding off whatever thoughts or feelings he harbored in the moment. He blinks, his eyes drift back to Elain then back to you and Thesan “ Go ahead, we’ll be here in the shop if you need us, we leave in about two hours”

“ Alright then I will have my men escort the two of you back to my palace.” Thesan replied, You eased the questioning look off your face, you shift back towards Thesan, the two of you walking out of the shop, the conversation immediately flowed. He could see the smile on your face, and yet again the melodic sound of laughter that left your lips. The high lords' guards remained in place while Azriel and Elain both continued their shopping. However, that didn’t stop him from taking one last look out the door.

When the two hours were up, Azriel and Elain were guided securely to the Palace where he’d find you and Thesan walking along the hall. Thesan stopped in his tracks grabbing your arm, it forces you to halt in place, your body halfway facing him. His mouth moves but Azriel can’t hear what he’s saying, he lifts a hand to your face gently swiping at your cheek. He removes his hand, pulling you gently into a tight embrace. Azriel could see the way you held onto him tightly, as if you dared to let go. The two of you stayed in that position for a few moments until you both eventually pulled away. Why were you crying? Were you hurting? Were they happy tears? Did he say something to you? What was it? There were too many emotions to pinpoint, Azriel’s chest continued to tighten at the emotions he felt. You left Thesans' side offering him one last smile, but that smile fades, when you approach them.

“It’s time, are you ready?” You ask softly, your demeanor changed, a bit relaxed but a heavy weight stays on your shoulders. You roll them back, adjusting yourself. Azriel watches you with such careful eyes, you paid no mind, your thoughts elsewhere.

“ Yes-“ Elain starts but her gaze flickers back and forth between you both. For Elain it was rather odd to see the two of you interact, when she had met you, your relationship with Azriel was already thin, you were distant with him compared to everyone else. Elain assumed that your relationship had always been like that, but now she wasn’t so sure..

“ Are you alright?” Azriel asks you, his hand twitches slightly, part of him restrains himself, the other yearned to reach out for you. But you were quick to recover, offering him a reassuring smile.

“ Yeah I’m fine, let’s go.” You placed your hands on both of them, winnowing them back to the town house. There Nuala and Cerridwen greeted the three of you. Nuala took the pots out of Elains hands, Cerridwen took the flowers and placed them in another vase. Elain begins gushing about the journey to Dawn, how gorgeous it was..You sighed exhausted leaving the space quietly to head to your own room. Azriel was about to follow you when Elain called for his help in the kitchen. Azriel hesitated staring up at the staircase. Why couldn’t he just talk to you? He’s a Shadowsinger, a spymaster, and he can pry details out of anyone but you. All he can feel is your emotions-your emotions... Elain had pulled Azriel from his thoughts as she hugged a pot to herself.

“Az? Are you coming?” She says as she waits for him to follow her to the garden. Again he hesitates but he feels a stirring in his chest. Azriel lifts up a hand instinctively touching it, a sharp sensation could be felt beneath his chest. It couldn’t be? Could it? Azriel’s eyes widen, Elain takes a breath “ I’ll be outside Az when you’re ready-“ Azriel moves his feet faster than his mind could process, he was out of the town house door, his wings pushing him off the ground shooting him into the sky, he needing some time to think..

___

The moons at its highest peak, your curtains flowing with gentle breeze that filtered through your bedroom. The candles and lights burnt out signaling that you were asleep, that was until you heard a creak in the floorboard, and the atmosphere changed, a darker presence filled the space. You were lying on your stomach, your hands slipping beneath the pillow as you grip the handle of the blade you’ve hidden beneath it. You felt the figure stop just before your bed frame, you could hear them bend down towards your face. As they reached for you, you swiftly reached out a free hand grabbing them, you flipped them onto the bed, rolling over pinning them down with your blade tucked against their neck in the most vulnerable area.

“ It’s only me” He whispers, the lights in the room reaching a dim hue, illuminating the area.

“ Jeez Az, I could’ve killed you” You replied tiredly, you pulled back the blade placing it on the end table. Azriel’s eyes followed your movement above him, your hips and legs straddling him, your hair in an unruly nature, from slumber. The candles hue amidst the room, caresses your face, your bare legs, your skin making it appear warm to the touch. You had worn a tunic that wasn’t yours, it hugged loosely around your body frame. The tunic looked oddly familiar to Azriel but then again he wasn’t so sure. All he wanted to do was rip whoevers tunic that belonged to, off of your body and replace it with his.

“I’m sorry, I didn���t mean to startle you-” He apologizes,”-I have one question I’d like to ask you” Azriel whispers, as he watches your facial expression twitch into a sleepy confusion.

“This couldn’t wait till morning?” You sighed as your hand moved to rub the sleep from your face. You remove yourself from him, you slip off the bed but not before Azriel caught your wrist. He shifts himself so that he sits up lifting himself off the bed. He towers over you, the candle's glowing light touches his features in a way that it could come off intimidating, but there was a more intimate, soft, texture that made him appear more angelic.

“ No I’m afraid not.” He admits.

You nod your head” What’s your question?”

“ How long have you known about the bond?”Azriel’s voice low, as if to test the waters but enough to plunge himself. He needed answers and after speaking with Rhys, it was his right.

“ What?” Your face dropped, your skin becoming clammy as nervousness passes through you, sleepiness evades you.

“ You heard me, answer the question” his eyes switch between both of yours, searching and evaluating. He tried to pinpoint every emotion you felt, he tried to feel you through, the only thing stopping him was- you.

“ It's not that simple-” You shook your head, pulling your wrist out of his hold. You weren’t prepared for this, you weren’t ready to unravel all that you worked so hard to ignore.

“ It is that simple” Azriel continued to pry, he didn’t need the bond to notice how uncomfortable and painful this topic was for you-it was news to him, he wanted the truth..no lies no games only the truth

“ No, it’s not. It’s complicated-“ You looked away from him moving to the other side of the room. You couldn't find the words to explain this situation, your reasoning. What if what you told him set him off? What if this ruins everything between your friendships? The alliance that has been created? So many thoughts and questions, never enough answers…but for Azriel you did have an answer to his question..

“ Complicated enough for you to leave.” It was then that feeling in your chest, it builds a thick pressure. A heavyweight on your shoulders, the air almost sucked out your lungs. “ Is that what you told Rhys when you were packing your bags?” You couldn’t breathe, Azriel’s footsteps followed you till he was right behind you. You faintly feel the pulse of his surprise and his anger, as if it was your own, but it had been so long since you’d tapped into the bond. You had spent a century ignoring it, shielding it, and now, it was muscle memory..

“ Don’t make me do this..” You whispered out, a silent plea to move on, to let this go.

“ You knew, and yet you decided not to tell me” His voice held a deep frustration, a deep want and need. He wasn’t going to give up, he had a way with finding out the truth..

“ That’s-not what happened..” You were again stumped with words, torn between giving in or lying, torn between running away or staying..

“ No? Then what happened?” He continues to look down at you, you refuse to meet his gaze. Azriel doesn’t take no for an answer moving towards the front. He stands in front of you. His smell, his faint emotions from the bond slowly consuming you. It surrounds you, his shadows dance along the edges of the room, waiting, watching, whispering.

“ Az-” You warned him, it was another weak attempt to fight him off. But he continued to poke, to pull, to pry, to grasp at anything you’d give him. You were tired, exhausted, hiding your emotions, your thoughts, your protected heart and mind bound to collapse, all secrets were meant to escape..

“ I want the truth, Y/N-”. You took a deep breath, your nerves running a mile a minute. His own anxiousness was replaced with a demanding thirst for the truth. A truth that belonged to him too. You’ve kept this wonderful secret to yourself, he watched as his own family found mates that paired well with them. Watching as their life finds the pieces to the puzzle it was missing. Deep down he wanted that very same thing. He felt as though he may not deserve it but he craved it, to be loved unconditionally… “-You owe me that much”

You sighed, your heart shattering, you gave in, you really hadn’t planned too but the look in his eyes-, “..Before Amarantha began her reign, Rhys made an offer to Thesan to let me stay in Velaris, as an emissary between the courts. It was then that I found out that we were mates… It was then that the deal was made.“

“All these years and you kept this to yourself, why?” His eyebrows furrowed.

“ Because I knew you were in love with Mor. I wasn’t going to take that from you. But I did wait for you, I waited a long time. But when it became an achingly slow desperation, I gave up. I practiced silencing the bond, so I couldn’t feel the emotions you felt when you were around other-women..romantically and lustily I mean. Then Elain came around and it was the same process. I’m exhausted, Azriel. I can’t keep doing this”

“ You didn’t bother to try! You’re running back home because you never thought to ask how I might’ve felt!” His jaw tenses, his head slightly tilted to the side, his frustration grows, at this notion of forcing the information out of you, when you should’ve let it happen, when you should’ve told him..

“ I didn’t because I wanted you to come to your own conclusion. I wanted it to be as natural as possible but you were so invested in Mor and Elain and I’m not one to take you away from that. But I also miss the people I care about, I miss my old home-It’s time for me to go-” You protested.

“ What does Rhys think of this?” Azriel jaw twitches.

“ He was the one who encouraged me to speak with Thesan-“

“ Is that what the discussion was between the two of you?” He presses.

“ Yes but-“ You attempt to defend yourself.

“ Y/N, what exactly did you say to him?” Azriel wanted every detail, every version of this story, of his story, of his mates-his mate.

“ I didn’t- I didn’t say anything. I asked if I could return home, and he told me that I should stay here, that if I truly wanted to come home then he’d considered it.” Your heart leaps into your throat, you swallow it back, the feeling collecting.

“ His answer wasn’t even a Yes” Azriel’s scoffs shaking his head, his hands on his hips as he looks at the floor and then away at the window.

“ Yes- but it’s my decision-“ You looked up at him, watching his movements carefully.

“ No it’s not, you’re not going back there.” He challenged, his eyes find their way back to yours.

“ You can’t decide that.” You tell him, the two of you hurting by the weight of your decision. Azriel’s own heart squeezes painfully, at how easy it was for you to say those words to him. You were his, he wasn’t going to let you just walk away, not without fighting for you.

“ Why not? You’d already decided to keep this to yourself regardless of how I felt” He takes a step forward his arms falling back down to his side.

“ Azriel please listen to me-“ You tried to reason, you tried to find a way to break through, he wasn’t thinking straight, you weren’t thinking straight, neither one of you.

“ No you listen, all those years, all those centuries, you were my friend, and you were someone who loved me. Loved me enough to sacrifice what you felt so I could find happiness. In the depths of my mind I have fought and searched for you without realizing that you were here in front of me..I was too blind to see it. ” His hands flew to your face, your jaw, cupping it, his thumbs grazing your cheekbones. Your hands follow suit as your fingers grip his wrists. His shadows remove themselves from the dark corners of your room, shooting out to tangle around your wrists, not to pull your hands away but to hold you there in place. “ Please don’t run from me” He whispers, his forehead dipping down to rest on yours. His hands slide from your cheeks to the sides of your neck.

“ Az-I can’t stay” You replied quietly, your hands pulling at his wrists weakly at his. You both knew that you could take him down easily, but at this moment in time the two of you were struggling. The tension grew thick in the air. A sort of sharp feeling intensifies, the faded familiarity that was the bond, solidifies. You thought that you had successfully mastered the art of blocking the bond but no. Azriel must’ve truly accepted it, a different feeling takes over, Azriel hums at the feeling. You sucked in a breath.

“ You can’t leave without knowing I’ve accepted the bond” His nose brushes against yours. You shook your head once more, completely pushed Azriel away. Your hands fly to your head, your fingers tangling in your hairs. You wanted nothing more than to curl into yourself, this was too surreal, too overwhelming. You’d spent so long, alone, and working, on occasions waiting. Now you were uncertain, even more than you had been hours ago. Azriel could feel your indecisiveness, he just needed to bring you back to him.

Azriel followed you, he pulled your hands from your hair, one of them he placed on his chest, his heart beating beneath it, you couldn’t look at him. But you could feel the gentleness, the love that flowed through him into you. “ My heart, my soul belongs to you” he tries again. You could feel your body sag at the feeling of comfort. It was so intense and welcoming. You wanted to wrap yourself in it-but you fought it, you were so used to the fighting, the restraint, the self control. “Let go” His voice reaches into the depths of your mind, into your soul, calling out to you.

You placed your forehead on his chest, your hand leaving the area above his heart. Azriel’s wings moved to surround you, his shadows moved to get to you, tangling themselves in your hair, caressing your face and hands. They speak to you wishing you nothing but love and happiness. They bring you comfort, your eyes fluttering shut.

“ Y/N” Azriel calls out. You could feel his hands cupping your face once more tilting it upwards, his breath light. You could feel how close he was, Azriel was right there, all he needed to do-Az’s lips crashed down onto yours, so soft, and yet his kiss held all his desperation, his passion. He couldn’t hold back, not with you, not when he loved you so. You weren’t surprised, in fact you hadn’t realized how much you yearned for his touch, his kiss. Azriel turns his head to the side deepening the kiss, a quiet moan slips out. By the cauldron Azriel loved to hear that sound, he wanted to hear it again, and again, and again. For as long as he lived and breathed.

You were putty in his hands, the feeling of his touch, his thoughts, his emotions was putting you in overdrive. Your mind couldn’t comprehend nor catch up to the pace in which things were happening. Azriel lets go of your lips for a brief moment, allowing you a chance to breathe, a whimper and the need for air also escapes your lips. Azriel had to fight the urge to keep himself from taking you right then and there. You had the urge to let him do it, you placed your hands on his chest pushing him back a step. You couldn’t think with him in your space, Azriel wasn’t going to budge, but with the way you were so caught up and caught off guard, he let you take a second.

“Okay-“ You breathed out. Azriel’s eyes light up, a smile threatens to break out. “ I-um-“ You cleared your throat,”Uh-I-I accept the bond..” you whispered the last part. Azriel’s heart gave a squeeze of joy, his chest filled with lightness, with happiness and relief. All he had ever hoped for had finally come to fruition. A twinkle of mischief sparks in his eyes, a smirk finds its way onto his beautiful features.

“ What was that?” He asks, yet you squint your eyes at him, you know he heard, he knows he heard you, but he wanted you to say it again. “-I didn’t quite hear you” You bit the inside of your cheek still squinting at him. You sighed, your body began to relax, your facial expressions changing to that of a sheepishness. You were struggling to admit it, Azriel waited for you patiently.

“ I-“

“ Yes?”

“ Az” You raised your eyebrows at him, as if to say I’m trying here.

“ I’m sorry, please go on.” He encourages you.

You sighed as you tried again this time “ I accept the bond-” You are much more confident and certain. “I’ve loved you since I’ve known you. You were right, my heart and soul belongs to you-“Azriel couldn’t contain himself much longer as took you into his arms and spun you around. A victorious grin graced both of your features, and for once the weight of the world didn’t feel so heavy in your chests. You gave a light hearted giggle, your heart swooning. Azriel places you back on the ground. You smiled brightly, the twinkle reaching your eyes. “This is happening?” You asked out loud, you searched for clarification.

“ Yeah it is” Azriel let go grabbing your hand pulling you towards the window. You tilted your head to the side, a sweet smile on your lips, a playful yet teasing expression stretches onto Azriel’s face. “Do you trust me?” his hand extends outward.

“ Yes.” You lift your hand to place it into his, this time a new height sense fills both your bodies. The touch feels like a loving hum on your skin. Your minds, your souls, finally resting after all the searching that it had done. You place your hand in his, he guides you out of the window onto the terrace of the town house. You followed him blindly, willingly. Azriel stood taller in the moonlight, and the stars above shining, his shadows nowhere to be found, it was just him. “ Az wait- Elain-“

“She knows, and I’m sure she will be upset with me, but she has Lucien..She doesn’t need me.” He nods. You watch him closely, as you slowly lift a hand to caress his cheek, the touch sweet and warming. Azriel instinctively leans into your touch, turning his head slightly to kiss the palm of your hand.

“ I’m sorry” You whispered, you realized that you may have ruined a friendship for him, a little bit more than a friendship..

“ No I’m sorry” he replies as he takes you back into his arms, the sounds of the city's music playing amongst the trees, the flowers, the plants, the night sky seeming more inviting, more alive. All Azriel knew was in this moment in time he finally understood the accept of the bond, the waiting, the calling, you had always been there waiting for him, you gave him time, space, anything he needed to figure himself out..All those times he spent with other women- then it dawned on him, had you done the same? You chuckled upon feeling that jealous emotion. “ Who’s tunic are you wearing?”

“ Az, it’s yours”

“ What-“ You peel yourself out of his arms.

“ This tunic you let me borrow on a mission we had, remember? Court of nightmares? I was stuck in a brothel, I ended up fighting my way out, my clothes were completely shredded?” You offered bits and pieces of the memory, Azriel’s takes a moment to recollect and it hits him.

“ Yes I remember, you ate a bowl of soup that night at one of the hostels. You hated it,” He chuckled as he remembered the disgusted look on your face. You laughed alongside him. You moved to head back towards your room but Azriel was quick to catch your hand.

”Where are you going?”

“Um-to make you something, we still have to seal the bond.”

“ Not here”

“ Then where?” Azriel grins as he throws one of your arms around his neck, one catches your back the other catches your knees.

“ Somewhere private, where I can have you all to myself, no distractions, just you and me” He whispers to you, his face dipping closer to yours, you sucked in a small breath, the blood beneath your skin singing, practically humming. His arms tightened their hold on you pressing you as flush to him as possible. Azriel looks away and upwards towards the night sky, his wings strong as they help push the two of you off the ground. Excitement filled the air, the night, seemed sweeter, less stuffy, inviting. You guessed that Thesan was right for making you stay here, to reconsider, you were thankful that he pointed you back in the direction of your mate. Azriel was happy that his brother fought for his love, fought for him to find happiness. It was more than just two courts keeping a civil peace, it was about two souls that needed to find each other, even if it takes a century.

[delusionisaplace]

heey! could you please write some fluffy prompts for a couple in a long term relationship?

ty for the ask!! this is just gonna be a little drabble of ideas but feel free to use them :)

𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙢 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙥𝙡𝙚 𝙢𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙨

have fun with these :) | tag me if you use any bc i love seeing what you guys write!!

Knowing everything about each other down to the smallest detail, like a favorite color or food.

Holding hands / touching each other as a reflex.

Being able to sit in silence without it being uncomfortable because they’re already so used to each other.

Not needing to talk because every glance, touch and smile is already a conversation in and of itself.

Knowing exactly how to comfort each other when they’re upset.

Having a ton of inside jokes that make absolutely no sense to anyone around them, but still sends them into fits of laughter.

Making mundane tasks like grocery shopping and cleaning fun just by being around each other.

Recalling some of the most important parts of their relationship, like the day they first met.

Having their own language made up of gestures and looks.

Sharing almost everything with each other, like hobbies or something they found funny.

Perfectly fitting into each other’s routine, and becoming an integral part of each other’s life.

[intoxicated-chan]

Okay, so this is more on the soft angst side, but would you be willing to write a Miguel x F!Reader (or gender neutral if you’d prefer that) where Miguel visits Reader’s universe to check in on them since they haven’t visited the Spider Society headquarters for some time now, and he shows up at her apartment right as she’s in the middle of fixing up her wounds after a massive fight. And so he helps patch up her wounds, and after some intense eye contact between the two of them, they kiss (it should be noted that they’ve been pining over each other awhile now, but neither of them have said anything to the other).

And if it isn’t too much, I have these dialogue prompts you can add as well if you need anymore inspiration (you totally don’t have to use them, I just thought they’d fit perfectly with this scenario).

“Are you alright? Where are you hurt?”

“You don’t have to come over here and take care of me you know. I can clean up my own messes.”

“Can I stay? I'll take the couch.”

If this feels like too much, don’t hesitate to decline this ask! I’m just really excited 😅

I Need You to Stay

✿ฺ Paring ➳❥ Miguel O’Hara x F!Reader

✿ฺ Summary ➳❥ Miguel hasn’t heard from you in weeks, he wonders what’s keeping you so busy.

✿ฺ (A/n) ➳❥ Inspired by “Stay” by Ari Abdul. Thank you for the request Anon! I hope you enjoy it and are taking care of yourself. Have a wonderful day/night!

✿ฺ Word Count ➳❥ 887

✿ฺ Content Warnings ➳❥ Female reader, mention of violence, mentions of death, light angst, fluffy, blood, open wounds, light swearing…

Four weeks. It has been four weeks since Miguel last saw you. Normally, he wouldn’t be so worried, but it’s been four days. Usually, if you couldn’t make it, you’d talk to him through a screen but that hasn’t happened in the four weeks. Not a call, not a text, not even a simple message. Heck, even Lyla hasn’t heard anything from you.

Miguel sighs, “I can believe I’m saying this right now…” He looks at Peter B. “I’m putting you in charge until I get back.”

“Where are you going?” Peter B. asks.

“I haven’t heard anything from (Y/n) and Lyla can’t reach her. I’ll be back soon.”

Gwen pops up from behind Peter B.,“Can I join you?” She asks, pulling her hood up as she walks closer to Miguel, “I want to see the person who has Miguel O’Hara crushing on.”

“Excuse me?” Miguel cocks an eyebrow.

“You heard me!”

“No.” Walking away from Gwen.

“Why not?” And Gwen quickly follows.

“Because she could be in danger.” Miguel begins adjusting his gizmo to the correct universe.

“You saw me in action, I could help.” Gwen retorts.

“And I said…” A portal opens up, “No.” Then he disappeared and Gwen scoffed.

“I told you he wouldn’t listen.” Peter B. laughs with Mayday in his arms and Miles right beside him, laughing along.

Miguel lands on the rooftop of your apartment with a grunt. He takes a moment to look around and see if anything has changed, and something did. It was midnight in your universe and the lights to your apartment were still on.

He jumps down and easily clings onto the wall next to your window. With his other hand, he slowly slides your window open and slips in, closing it behind him.

“I know you’re here Miguel!” You call out from the other room, “Heard you since you landed on the roof.”

He chuckles as he walks towards the sound of your voice, “I shouldn’t be so surprised, your abilities have always impressed-” His eyes widen as he looks at you.

You sat at the table, bloody bandages on the table, cotton balls and fresh bandages. But the blood still dripping from the open wounds on your arm made his stomach churn, not in a good way.

He swallows thickly as he comes closer, taking your injured arm in his hand, “Who did this to you?” He growls.

“I took care of it.” You tell him, but it doesn’t stop him from worrying, “Nothing left but cuts and bruises… That will heal.” You try to sooth his worry.

“Are you alright? Where are you hurt?”

“You’re holding the only thing that’s hurting right now.”

Miguel uses his webbing to pull up another chair to sit. He grabs the disinfectant and pours some of his on a cotton ball, you hiss at the contact as he cleans up the blood.

“You don’t have to come over here and take care of me, you know. I can clean up my own messes.” You speak through gritted teeth as it still burns.

“...How strong were they?” He speaks through the awkwardness.

“It wasn’t because they were strong.” You admit, “I got carried away, distracted.”

“By what?”

“The bastard was wearing colors similar to yours. I thought it was you for a split second, and in the second, I was open for an attack and they took it… I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?” Grabbing the bandages and wrapping up your arm.

“Don’t you remember the first time you brought me on a mission with you. I got distracted.”

“Of course I remember, what kind of idiot throws themself in front of someone.” He looks over the bandages, making sure they’re on correctly and not too tight.

“I thought you were going to die that day, I thought if I could at least save Spider-Man, then for once I did something good in my life.” Your head hangs in shame.

“We cannot save everyone, no matter how hard we try.” Miguel huffs, “At least…” He cups your face, slowly lifting your head to look at him, “I got to save you.”

“Migu-”

“Can I stay?” He asks, “I’ll take the couch.”

“I’m fine, I don’t need someone looking after me.” You pick up the bloody cotton balls and bandages.

“You’re shaking.”

“My arm still hurts and the adrenaline is still pumping.” You lie.

“Please don’t lie to me, (Y/n). You know how much I hate liars.” He comes closer, “Tell me what’s got you so distracted.”

“Everything about you. From your stupid, lovely hair to you entirely.Which is why I stayed away, I didn’t want to be so distracted that I’d cause the team to fall apart.” He cups your face once more and closes the space between you two. His lips falling onto yours.

It made Miguel’s heart beat faster and faster, and for some reason, the pit in his stomach grew even more. But it disappeared when he felt your arms come around his neck, standing on your toes.

He pulls away, “Distracted now?”

“Very.” You mumble.

“Are you letting me stay the night or will we have to go to my place?”

“Are you sure you want to leave Peter in charge for any longer?”

Oh, shit. He forgot about him.

© 2023 Intoxicated-Chan, I do not allow my work to be copied, translated, modified, adapted, or put on any other platform without permission.

[reiderwriter]

I have a hotch request and if you don’t write it I completely understand☺️

So you’re dating hotch for a couple months and you’ve only went over to his house like 5-6 times(so that’s how many times you’ve hung out with jack) anyway, you go to use the washroom or something before you leave to go home and jack asks his dad if you’re his gf and if you’ll be having a sleepover with them (as you’ve never actually stayed there before) and his heart becomes all warm n fluffy

A/N: Hi! I don't usually write for Hotch, but I decided to give it a crack because this fits pretty well for @imagining-in-the-margins KidFic challenge! It was a fun challenge to write, so thanks for the prompt! I changed it up slightly, but I hope you still enjoy it!

Warnings: mentions of anxiety, step-family dynamics, etc.

10 months of casual dinners, midnight strolls, and stolen kisses, and you still weren't ready to accept that you were in love with your boss. 

Aaron Hotchner was a complicated man, and loving him wasn't as simple as your heart wanted it to be. You worked together but rejected any favouritism he may have shown you. You slept together, but you never stayed in his bed. You kissed him, but you never told him you loved him, even though you were sure you did. 

You just weren't sure you were ready to be a stepmother. 

As a child of divorce, you'd been graced with two step-parents growing up, and while neither were story book evil, they weren't exactly the most welcoming either. You'd bounced between your mother and father's houses, trailing duffle bags, afraid to take up too much space for fear of ruining your parents’ newfound and direly earned happiness. 

Jack had the misfortune of being both a child of divorce and having lost his mother entirely too young and entirely too suddenly. 

When you'd joined the BAU, off the back of Haley Hotchner’s death, Aaron had been a man in mourning, a man scarred by circumstance and regret. But he'd been brave, and he'd been loving, and he'd worked so hard to give his son a good life. 

Five years later, and it seemed obvious now that you had at least respected the man from the very beginning, if not pined for him quite openly. 

There was that final hurdle left to cross, though, and you weren't sure if you'd ever be ready to do so. 

A phone call startled you out of your worries as you sat on your couch, dissociating after a long and hard won case. The shrill ring startled you into action as you frantically searched for wherever it was this time that you left your phone. 

“Hello, yes, I'm here, hi,” you said, finally finding the phone abandoned under some couch pillows. 

“Y/N, it's Aaron.” 

“I know, Aaron. Caller ID, welcome to the 21st century,” You couldn't help smiling into the receiver, so smitten with the man your face was just doing whatever it liked. 

“Right. Look, I wouldn't usually overstep like this, but Jessica and I have to go upto Roy's retirement house, he's not dealing too well with the new environments, and all of Jack's regular babysitters are enjoying the spring weather. I'd ask his friends' moms for an impromptu playmate but-” 

“But you'd rather he be with someone you trust? Aaron, it's fine, I'll come over and watch Jack for a few hours.” 

He sighed into the receiver, and after a few more niceties, you ended the call, still grinning like an idiot. 

You were still grinning like an idiot when your earlier anxiety came back and hit you straight in the chest. You'd met Jack before, but you'd not so subtly avoided any kid based conversations and meet-ups for the last 10 months. 

You had no idea how to entertain a nine year old boy, but you decided quickly that you couldn't half ass it. 

The drive to Hotch's house was almost embarrassingly familiar to you now, having been there so often in the past few months. Jack enjoyed regular sleepovers with his aunt and schoolmates so you could enjoy regular sleepovers with his father, a fact that you had to remind yourself to keep private as you knocked on the door. 

“It's open,” Aaron called from inside, and you hesitantly opened the door and stepped in, bag of last-minute toy purchases stuffed under your arm. 

From the door, you could see Aaron in the kitchen, hands deep in soapy water as he washed lunch dishes and pots, sticking his head out to smile at you. 

“Aaron Hotchner, domestic goddess. Who’d have thought?” 

“I'd ask you to keep this to yourself at work.” 

“Of course,” you said, stepping a fraction closer to him. “Anything to keep the mystery alive.”

He leaned in for a quick kiss, and you reciprocated, letting it linger a second as you smiled into his touch. 

Drying his hands on a towel near him, Aaron called across the apartment for Jack. 

“What's up, Dad?” He asked, peeking out of his bedroom door. 

“This is Y/N. She works with me and Uncle Rossi. She's going to take care of you for a while while me and Aunt Jessica and I visit your Grandpa. Come say hi.”

Creeping out of his room slowly, Jack came to stand just in front of his father's legs as Aaron put his hands on his shoulders, proudly showing off his mini doppelganger. 

“Hi, I'm Jack.” 

“Nice to meet you Jack, my name is Y/N.” You stuck out your hand, and he shook it. You noticed how small his hands were, but how strong his grip was. He was confident, but he was still just a small kid, and you were even more motivated not to mess this up. 

“What's in your bag?” He asked, flicking his eyes down to it every few seconds, as if he was itching to stick his nose right into it. 

“Jack, manners, please.”

“It's okay, Hotch. I brought some toys. Your dad mentioned that Santa's gave you a Nintendo at Christmas, and I thought I'd show you a few of my favourite games.” 

His face lit up as he quickly stepped closer to you, hands on the bag as he waited for you to offer it up, now openly ogling the bags contents, knowing it was for him. 

“You didn't have to bring anything, Y/N.” 

“I wanted to make a good first impression.” 

After being dragged to the nearest sofa and sitting through a five minute walk through of all the house rules, urgency exits and remote locations, you were left alone with Jack Hotchner, remotes in hand ready to play Mario Kart. 

“Okay, now all that's left to do is choose the course you want to race on. Which one do you want to play on?” 

Jack had chosen to use Bowser as his character and chosen Toadette for you quite cutely, and you'd quickly finished cart selection, too.

“We should go through them in order, so we complete them all,” he said after a moment of deliberation. 

You giggled at how seriously he was taking it. And then the first race in the Mushroom Cup started, and you were seriously impressed by how quickly he'd picked up this game. Either kids were just better at video games in general, or you had a prodigy on your hands. 

His serious face was a carbon copy of Hotch when he was hunched over paperwork, and he gave you the same quietly disapproving frown every time your character momentarily overtook his. It was adorable seeing the two reflected in one another. 

By the shell cup, you were nearly exhausted, despite having spent the entire time glued to the couch. 

“What do you think about taking a snack break?” You asked, looking over Aaron Jack, who had turned himself upside down on the couch somewhere in the last three matches and was still beating you. 

“Okay. I'll show you where Dad hides the good snacks,” he said, quickly rolling off the couch as if his bones were liquid. 

You, on the other hand, cracked as you stood, the irony not lost on you as you hobbled your way to the kitchen. 

Opening the cupboard under the sink, Jack routed around for a few seconds before returning with a small box of Reeses Pieces, which you gradually accepted alongside a glass of apple juice. 

“You're a good kid, Jack,” you said, ruffling his hair as he playfully swatted your hand away. 

“Yeah, that's what my dad always says.”

“Your dad is a very smart man.”

He nodded and then went back to quietly eating his candy, somewhat lost in thought. 

You weren't sure if you were supposed to ask him what he was thinking about, or avoid the topic and dive straight back into video games, so you just ate your candy, too, standing together in the kitchen, Mario Kart music playing in the background. 

“Do you like my dad?” He suddenly asked, swallowing down one more bite of apple juice. You'd forgotten that kids were the bluntness people on the planet, not yet having learned the necessity of delicately creeping closer to the actual topic of discussions like adults. 

Jack had landed a sucker punch right to your guy, and you were suddenly choking on Reese's Pieces. 

“Umm,” you said, catching your breath again and hoping your embarrassment wasn't plain as day on your face. “Yes, I respect your father a lot, Jack.” 

“But do you like him?” He said again, eyes wide and expectant as he looked up at you. 

“My dad can be a little scary sometimes. I heard some of my friends' moms saying so at Mitchell C's birthday party last week. They said he's scary, but he's so sad and lonely.” 

Your heart sank in your chest as you watched Jack worry about his dad, worry if Aaron Hotchner was lonely or sad. 

“Jack, your dad isn't lonely or sad. He has you, and Aunt Jessica, and-” 

“And you, right? Because you like my dad?” 

“R-Right. He has me, too.” 

“Great. Let's keep playing. The Banana Cup is next.”

As suddenly as it had started, your serious talk with Jack was over and he bounced his way back to the sofa, clicking go on the next race, as you ran to quickly take your place again, too. 

Five hours later, and you were being shaken softly awake, controller still in your hands as you blinked your eyes open. Somehow, it had gotten dark, and both you and Jack had simultaneously fallen asleep on the couch. 

Now Hotch hovered over you, carrying the sleeping boy in his arms as he woke you up. He mouthed ‘coffee?’ and you nodded quickly, sitting up further and grabbing the nearest remote to turn off the Nintendo. 

With Jack situated in bed quickly, you made your way to the kitchen. Aaron joined you after making sure Jack was still asleep, walking up behind you and wrapping two arms around your middle, leaning his head against your shoulder and exhaling. Despite the shiver down your spine, you leaned further into him, enjoying the feeling of him in your sleepy state. 

“How was it?” He asked, a hint of uncertainty in his voice. You were almost sure that he was conducting this conversation from behind as a means of convincing himself not to read into your every movement and expression. 

“It was great. He's a great kid, you know?” 

“So I've been told.” 

“He's worried about you, too. He said the moms at his school think you're scary and lonely. Which in suburban house mom translates to romantic hero, though I don't think he realizes that.” 

You felt the grumble of a laugh behind you, the sound low and comforting as you let your eyes flutter closed again, content in his arms. 

“Jack…misses his mom. Rebecca is great, but he likes talking to the moms at school. Maybe a little too much, I don't know.” 

“You miss her, too.” It was a statement, not a fact. 

“I do,” he said sadly, holding you tighter. “Is that a problem?” 

“No. No, god no. Aaron, I-” your voice broke, and you hesitated slightly, clearing your voice. You squirmed in his grip until he released you enough to face him.

Doing so may have been a mistake, though, as you locked eyes with him and so desperately wanted to kiss him, to claim his mouth with yours, and let him lift you onto his kitchen counters. 

You squeezed your nails into the palm of your hands to ground yourself and took a steadying breath. 

Which was when Jack decided to make a reappearance. 

“Dad?” He said groggily, wiping the sleep from his eyes as you had only moments earlier. 

You quickly broke apart as Aaron smiled disappointedly, almost as if he were expecting the interruption. 

“Hey, bud. Did you sleep well?” 

Jack nodded, tilting his head a little as though still disorientated. 

“Did I fall asleep on the couch?” 

“Sure did. Both of you, actually.” 

Jack looked at you then and smiled sweetly up at his dad. 

“So Miss Y/N is staying tonight?” He asked, suddenly a little excited and expectant. 

“Well, Miss Y/N has her own house, so we can't just expect her to-” 

“Yeah, I'm staying,” you blurted out, cutting off Hotch mid-sentence. He raised an eyebrow at you, but you ignored him and smiled down at Jack. 

“And if you head back to bed now, I'll make some pancakes for you in the morning,” you whispered conspiratorially with the boy, who raced back to his room. 

Before shutting the door fully, he stopped by his dad and tugged him down to whisper level, saying something before yelling goodnight and taking himself back off to his room. 

“What? What was that?” You pouted, pointing an accusatory finger at Aaron. 

“You first,” he laughed back, leaning on the nearby counter. 

“I promised him pancakes in the morning. What did he say?” 

“Oh, nothing,” he said, pulling you closer to him again. “He just said you had an interesting conversation earlier.” 

“Was it the one where he asked me if Mario speaks English, Italian or Japanese, because I couldn't answer that question for sure.” 

“He said,” he leaned down to your ear to whisper the next words. “That you told him you like me. And he thinks you meant like-like.” 

You flushed hot and avoided eye contact. A childish part of you wanted to deny it, to scoff and run away, like you were on the playground and not in a dimly lit kitchen at midnight. But you couldn't.

“I do. But I'd probably say love and not like-like, seeing as though I'm not nine.” 

“I love you, too,” he whispered, noses touching as he descended to capture your lips once more. 

[halfvalid]

Hey! Since your requests are open, may I request opla!Zoro x reader (established relationship) where the reader has a lot of self doubt (not only in their looks, but their abilities and their place in the crew) since it’s, unfortunately, been shoved done their throat by pretty much eveyone they knew, even their parents, that they would never be good enough? Maybe Zoro figures out that they have sort of been spiralling lately and they have a talk about the readers past and the problems they’re facing and he comforts them? Maybe it ends sort of spicy or turns out full on spicy, if you’re comfortable with that!

daybreak

ABOUT

alternate title: some fluffy established relationship hurt/comfort to save my soul

rating: teen & up

characters: live action!roronoa zoro | fem!reader

pairing: live action!roronoa zoro x fem!reader

word count: 2.9k (short; sorry!)

description: zoro notices you've been seeming off recently, and you confide in him your insecure feelings of self-worth. he comforts you.

tags: strawhat!reader, established relationship, fluff, emotional hurt/comfort, kissing, no use of ‘y/n’, soft zoro, ridiculously stupidly absolutely horrifyingly fluffy. 

author’s note: thank you so much for the very lovely request! i hope i did your prompt justice; i ended up not writing any spice at the end (just slightly suggestive) since i didn't think it fit the story but i hope you like it anyway ^^

it feels slightly ooc, but i also wrote it in the span of two hours at 1:00 am so can you really blame me. 

It was morning on the Going Merry, and you were cleaning up the wreckage that had been scattered along the deck in your last battle. The crew had gone up against some other pirates; it’d been late at night, and the attack had come suddenly, what you’d thought would be a peaceful docking turning combative quickly. 

You barely remembered the fight. One moment, the warning bell had sounded, and the next Zoro was rolling out of bed beside you, grabbing his swords and darting out of your bedroom before you could even register what was happening. The fight had gone in the Straw Hats’ favor, thankfully; Zoro, Luffy, and Sanji had fended off most of the threat, and you were back on the open sea, safe from enemies for at least a little while now. 

You let out a sigh as you swept shattered glass into a dustpan, shaking out the collected trash into a nearby empty barrel. None of the men usually bothered to start cleaning up—typical—so you’d pulled yourself out of bed as early as possible to get the ship looking a little more like normal. 

Zoro had left some corpses on the deck for you to deal with, and you’d had to toss them overboard, a grimace tugging at your lips as blood stained the white of your blouse. No matter. You’d finished sweeping, at least; all you had left to do was mop, right as everyone else was waking up. 

You filled a bucket with warm water and soap, and were just grabbing the mop from the closet when you heard footsteps. You glanced up, surprised to see Zoro heading towards you, one hand grasped loosely around his sword handle as always. “You’re up early,” he said, casual as ever. “Woke up and you were gone.” 

“Figured I should get a head start on cleaning,” you answered quickly, not meeting Zoro’s eyes as you dunked the mop into the bucket. His brows creased as he watched you start mopping, pushing the handle along the deck to wipe it clear of bloodstains. 

“How long have you been doing this?” Zoro asked, after a few seconds of delayed silence. You shrugged, dunking your mop again before going for another few swipes. “We can help clean too, you know.” 

“It’s the least I can do,” you protested. You moved past him, trying very hard not to meet his eyes—but Zoro didn’t let you pass, one hand going out to grab the mop rod and stopping you in your tracks. “What?” 

“What do you mean, least you could do?” Zoro asked blankly. 

“I mean—” you shrugged, muscles limp like your entire body was sagging you down. “You and the others were the ones to deal with the pirates, so I figured I could at least—”

Zoro still looked confused, brows pulled together, forehead taut with a frown. “I distinctly recall you throwing a pirate twice your size overboard. Unless I was imagining things.” 

You sighed. “Not what I meant.” You tried to push past Zoro again, but he didn’t let you, hand still tightly grasped around your mop handle. 

“Okay, what did you mean, then?” 

“Nothing. Will you just let me finish cleaning so there aren't blood stains all over Luffy’s ship?” You sighed again, even as you attempted to keep the sound inside—but you couldn’t help it. It was like there was an anchor stuck inside of you, pulling everything from your feelings to your body down, the weight of gravity tugging at your features. 

“Luffy’s ship?” 

You shrugged. “The Straw Hats’ ship. Whatever.” 

“Our ship,” Zoro said. There was a certain twinge of something in his words; still blankness, but laced with a dawning realization that you weren’t sure you liked. “You’re upset.” 

“Nope.” This time you really did manage to get free of Zoro’s grasp, yanking your mop out of his grip and starting back on cleaning the deck. The acrid smell of iron hit your nose as you scrubbed the dried blood off—you’d have to go back in later with a sponge to get all the cracks and crevices, but for now this would be okay. 

Zoro followed you, unceasing with his interrogation. “Yes, you are. I know when you’re upset, and you’re upset. What happened.” It was more of a statement than a question—Zoro didn’t often doubt himself, really, which was one of the many things that’d helped make you stumble into falling for him. “Was it about last night? You know the cook's just making fun when he keeps a counter, right? It doesn’t matter if he brought two or five more men down than you.” 

“It’s not about that,” you insisted. 

“So you admit you are upset.” 

You groaned, finally turning to look Zoro in the eye. He’d stopped walking, the dawning sun glinting hazey gold onto his skin in the early hour. There was still an overcast of blue from the night in the sky, and it made the heavens look ethereal, watery and glittering. 

“Come on,” he urged. “Just tell me what’s wrong.” 

“It’s really nothing you need to be concerned about,” you attempted, but your voice was weak now. Zoro stepped closer to you, gently pulling the mop out of your hands. Your fingers let go easily. “It’s silly.” 

Zoro gave you a look. “Out with it.” 

“I don’t know, I just—” your fingers clenched, like your hand was trying to find something to do now that Zoro had rid you of your mop. “Comparatively I just don’t do much. So I want to help out as much as possible.” 

“Who said you don’t do much?” 

“What?” 

“I don’t think I need to repeat myself,” Zoro said. He let the mop fall to the ground, arms crossing over his chest as he watched you. “Who said you don’t do much?”

“I mean, nobody. It’s just true.” You shrugged, distinctly uncomfortable with the way Zoro was looking at you—all attentive, like he was trying to strip you raw with his eyes, uncover whatever secrets might be hiding in the pores of your skin and the gaps of your teeth. “Luffy’s the captain, we wouldn’t be able to do anything without Nami, you and Sanji are the fighters, and Usopp’s everyone’s favorite. I’m just kind of… filler?” 

The more you spoke, the worse your words got, your tone turning more desperate as the sentences fumbled out of your mouth. Zoro’s eyebrows raised higher as you went on, and you flushed, red prickling all over your skin. 

“First of all,” he started, “Usopp is not my favorite. That’d be you. And—where are you getting this from?” 

You shook your head, trying to backtrack. “Nothing. Nowhere. It’s not that import—”

“Yes, it is, and we’re talking about it.” Zoro pulled a nearby barrel by the side of the ship, plopping himself down atop it and gesturing for you to sit. You didn’t, but you did move over to the railing, hands curling around the painted wood. “Speak.” 

“I have nothing to say,” you tried. Zoro just shot you an unimpressed look, and you squirmed. “Fine. I don’t know. I joined last, so I just figured… you were all kind of already set without me, right?” 

Zoro shook his head. “We’re a crew,” he said, voice strong but somehow still gentle. “You’re part of us for a reason. What, this entire time did you think you were—expendable?” 

You fidgeted uncomfortably, weight shifting from one leg to the other. “No.” 

“Don’t lie.” 

“Yes. No. I don’t know. Last night—I only got, like what, two guys? And you reacted way faster to the situation than I did,” you started, words flailing around on your tongue as they rushed out. It was indelicate, for certain, and you yourself couldn’t make sense of most of the words—but once you started, you couldn’t stop, even as they slurred together. “I was still getting out of bed and grabbing my weapon when you’d already dealt with half the enemy crew.” 

“Don’t compare yourself to me,” Zoro said with a shake of his head. “That’s not fair. I’ve been training since I was eight. It’s different.” 

You huffed out an exasperated breath, trying not to let your frustration get the best of you. “I can't help it sometimes. It’s a bad habit.” You loosened your grip on the ship railing, staring out at the golden clouds hovering over the sky.  “Sorry.” 

“Don’t apologize,” Zoro answered. He didn’t say anything after that—giving you a space to talk, you supposed, in case you wanted to. But his hand did reach up to press against yours, pinky brushing against your finger as he held onto the railing beside you. 

“I guess I just always had these standards back at the village,” you managed out eventually. Your island had always been one of the more traditional places in the East Blue, and there were plenty rules and guidelines abound. One of the many reasons you’d left the place in favor for Luffy and the Going Merry, really. “So I just… always want to do more. It’s not that bad.” 

“Right.” Zoro’s pinky looped around your finger, now, holding it close in a soft kiss of the hands. You sighed. 

“My parents were kind of rough on me, I guess,” you tried, sneaking a glance over at Zoro’s face to see if it satiated his curiosity at all. His expression remained as steel as ever, so you just continued. “They wanted me to be the best I could. But their standards were too high, even when I was little.” You found yourself rubbing circles into the back of Zoro’s hand with your finger, more so to comfort yourself than for any other reason. “Just normal stuff, like being upset about my school grades or my combat training levels being too low. Nothing that terrible.” 

“But…?” Zoro asked, tilting his head up to look at you. You smiled, but the action didn’t reach your eyes—it was all mouth and jaw, cheeks lifting but eyes glinting with the same glazed stare. 

“It just affected me a lot, I suppose,” you answered. “Always trying to get better. Never satisfied. And I guess now—I don’t know. I don’t think I’ll ever be good enough.” 

“For?” Zoro asked. His voice was low, soft, all hollow and empty inside. There was a tinge of roughness lacing it, like he’d forgotten to clear his throat, and the scratch of his vocal chords had surfaced up along with the words. 

“Myself. My parents. Luffy. You.” Your lips tightened into a line. Vaguely, you could feel the warm pinpricks of tears starting at your waterline, and you tried to will them back, letting out a little laugh. “Everyone, I guess.” 

Zoro’s hand had come to hold yours fully, fingers woven in between yours, thumb pressed firmly against the joint of your thumb. Somehow, that one motion managed to force the last of the words out of you—all wet and soft, eyes glued fiercely to the horizon in fear of seeing what was etched on Zoro’s face. 

“We do arranged marriages back at home,” you started, trying very hard to keep your voice from trembling. it worked only marginally—there was a tiny quaver in your tone, but it was soft, not noticeable unless you were really listening hard. “And my mom used to tell me I’d die alone. Because I wasn’t pretty enough, or smart enough, or anything enough for any of the boys there.” 

“Oh,” Zoro said. It was quiet; barely a whisper. You tried for a wry smile. 

“I like helping, though. I don’t mind cleaning up or whatever. It makes me feel more useful.” You tried to tug your hand out of Zoro’s grip, but his fingers tightened, keeping you in place. A nervous laugh escaped your throat. “And I know I’m part of the crew and all of this is just silly. So it’s really fine—”

Zoro tugged your intertwined hands to his chest, causing you to stumble and glance down at him in surprise. His expression was nearly unreadable. It’d darkened, and there was a contemplative gaze in his eyes, lips parted with invisible words perched on his tongue. “Don’t do that,” he whispered, and your stomach dropped, the nervousness that had gathered inside during the conversation tightening up into a hall. “Don’t say it’s okay or that it’s not important. If it’s making you upset, then it matters.” 

“I guess,” you tried, and Zoro’s gaze lifted to fix you with a glare. “Sorry.” 

“It’s okay, I just…” Zoro shook his head. “Look, whatever your parents used to tell you, whatever you have ingrained in your head—it’s not true. And there’s nothing wrong with wanting to do more, but… you don’t have to do it. You’re enough already.” 

Your gaze softened, lips falling open to say something, but Zoro wasn’t finished yet. “You shouldn’t come out here and force yourself to clean up just to make up for your—waste of space, or something. You’re not a servant. And you’re not wasting up any space. I think everyone would agree that you’re a very important and vital part of the crew.” 

“Thanks,” you whispered. Zoro’s hand was warm around yours, and you felt the threatening droplets of tears start to rise up at your waterline, ready to fall at any moment now. Zoro just nodded. 

“You’re a great fighter, and way smarter than what you give yourself credit for,” he said firmly. He raised your hand to his mouth, then, leaning over to press a feather-light kiss to your knuckles. “And the boys on your island have to be blind, because you’re pretty enough. You’re more than pretty enough.”

He whispered the last words, all soft and sacred on his tongue. “You’re beautiful.” 

That was enough to drive your tears over the edge. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to stop the flow as the warm sensation of liquid streaking down your cheeks began. Droplets caught in the crevice of your lips, and at the hinge of your jaw—Zoro brought a hand up to wipe them away. “Are you okay?” he whispered. 

“Yeah, I just, um.” You shook your head, sniffing. “Thank you. That… helped. I think.” 

Zoro bummed out his response. “Of course,” he said easily. “You’re my girl. It’s my job to cheer you up.” He kissed your knuckles again. “And you can talk to any of us. I’m not really the best at this, but everyone else…” he shrugged. 

“You’re doing just fine,” you assured him. Zoro nodded, tugging you down until you finally took a seat on a crate beside him. “I think it’s just been worse lately.” 

“If it makes you feel any better, I think you’re better than the waiter,” Zoro said. You just laughed. 

“I think you’re biased, but thank you,” you said. “Here, I, um, I promise I’ll let you know if I’m feeling down, I guess. If you don’t mind.” 

“Definitely don’t mind,” Zoro answered. This time he placed a gentle kiss on your neck, somewhere at the bottom near the back. “Leave the mopping for someone else. You’ve already done a lot.” 

“Okay,” you whispered, eyes fluttering closed as Zoro kissed the rest of the way up the back of your neck. He placed a final one right below your earlobe. With that, Zoro stood up, sweeping one arm under your legs and hoisting you up. You cracked open an eye to regard him with a blank look. “What are you doing?” 

“Bringing you back to my room,” Zoro answered. “You didn’t get much sleep tonight. And I doubt anyone wants to watch me kissing you on the main deck anyway.” 

That was fair enough reasoning, so you didn’t complain, letting him carry you all the way to his cabin and gently lay you down onto his bed. He leaned over to press a gentle kiss to your lips—you could still taste the saltwater from your tears from before. “Want me to stay?” Zoro asked. 

“You don’t have to,” you said automatically, and Zoro raised both his eyebrows. You let out a sigh. “Okay, I get it. Yes. Please stay.” 

“All you had to say,” Zoro said, shedding himself of his shoes and swords before leaning over the bed to watch you. He didn’t slip under the covers or anything, just propped an arm up on the mattress, kneeling beside the bed. There was tender silence for a few moments before Zoro spoke again. 

“I love you,” he said abruptly, voice rough but somehow still soft. Your heart beat too fast in your chest, ribcage squeezing in on the organ and making it skip. His hand slid along the mattress to find yours, and you took the offer, fingers clasping around his palm. 

“I love you too,” you whispered back. Zoe leaned over, then, the hand not intertwined with yours tilting your jaw over just so to allow him better access to your mouth. He kissed you full-on, tender but firm, mouth working against yours in a way that unraveled you entirely. Your grip on his hand tightened as he deepened the kiss, a soft sound emitting from low in your throat. Finally you broke apart, heaving for breath, exhales mixing together midair. An exchange of souls, you’d heard once, somewhere. 

“Come on,” you murmured, tugging Zoro closer to the bed so he got the hint. He slipped beside you onto it, turning your head again to meet you in another kiss. His hand drifted down to your waist, holding you securely in place.  

“I don’t think anyone should need us for a few more hours, right?” Zoro asked, and you laughed. He swallowed up the sounds with his mouth, tongue licking languidly into you as he rubbed delicate circles into the skin of your waist. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered, and then he was kissing you again. 

You let him siphon the soul out of your lungs, knowing you were getting his right back. 

© halfvalid 2023

[sobfultoast]

•°~* Careful Touches *~°•

Prompt: Touching their demonic features (Wings/Tails).

(This is my first one. It ain't the best, idk. Lol)

Being human, it was only natural that you'd be curious about what makes the brothers different from yourself, like their horns and such.

Whenever they were in their demonic forms, you couldn't help but stare at them with fascination. You just had to say something...

"They're beautiful... Can I touch your wings/tail?"

• ° ~ * ~ ° •

Lucifer

"You want to touch my wings? I always knew you were brave."

Lucifer doesn't just let anyone touch his wings. They must be people he trusts and respects. Out of all three realms, there are only 5 beings who have laid a hand on his wings and are still alive: Diavolo, Mammon, Michael, Simeon, and now you.

Lucifer's wings are dense with soft, fluffy feathers. It's so thick with feathers that you can't see your fingers anymore as you sink your hand. Be gentle with your strokes, while his feathers are as resilient as him, it can still cause him discomfort if handled roughly.

As you pet his wings, he physically relaxes. Letting out a heavy sigh, his composure becomes less strict. He feels vulnerable, but he thinks that he is okay with that. It was an intimate experience for him as he doesn't particularly like his wings. They hold a painful past to him, but you said they look beautiful... Someone can see the beauty in something he can't. Someone can see the beauty in his past, and that means the world to him.

You'll see him letting his wings unfurl more often when it is just the two of you. A cursed record playing in the background, he is working on paperwork with you on his lap, stroking his wings. It's soothing.

Mammon

"Eh? My wings? B-beautiful? Of course, ya think my wings are beautiful! They belong to the great Mammon after all!"

Mammon went bright red, but that didn't matter to him. His human thinks his wings are beautiful! Damn, right! Of course, you can touch his wings, and don't stop until he says so!

Mammom's wings are smooth but rough like leather. He uses a certain wax to make them sleek and shine. He has to look good. He is a model, after all.

As you stroke his wings, he started to squirm? Laugh? He almost pushed you away in a giggle fit. Turns out, he is very ticklish on his wings. It's more sensitive near the base of his wings, and it's the easiest place to tickle him to tears. He has noted to himself to never to let you touch his wings when you have that mischievous look on your face.

He likes using his wings to get your attention, especially now that he knows you like them. He'll walk around the house with his wings out, and he'll try to make it look like he is naturally stretching them, but we all know he's forcing it. He'll wrap them around you more often, using it to guide you closer to him. If you ask him about it, he'll deny it in his tsudere fashion but continues.

He has also bragged about it to everyone. Everyone. "Hey, guess what! My human said these wings are beautiful! Ya hear? What did they say to ya? Nothin'? that's what I thought."

Leviathan

"H-huh?! B-beautiful? You think my tail is beautiful?! Y-you must be lying. This must be one of your normie tricks!"

Leviathan went straight to denial. No way do you like his tail! His tail is such an eye-sore, he tells himself, why can't it be as dangerous as Satan's or as cute as Belphagor's? There is no way— W-wait, YOU'RE SERIOUS?! Once you assure him that you're serious and you'd love to touch his tail, he goes bright red and quiet. Give him a moment, and he'll slowly lift his tail towards you. He looks away, still hesitant. You have a feeling that if you don't stroke his tail now, you might affirm his thoughts and make him cry.

Levi's tail is smooth, and your hand glides over his scales. The scales themselves give his tail a nice and unique texture. It rattles with nervousness, but once you praise it, he'll melt into putty.

Levi is more comfortable having his tail out now, which also means you will be finding that tail wrapping itself around you more, too. It has a mind of its own that always betrays his tsudere act. He'll swear he'll never fall for your normie tactics while his tail is slithering its way up your thigh and waist.

It gets more clingy to you the more you pet and praise it. He still has days where he hates his tail, but you are always there to adore it.

Satan

"I don't think that would be a smart idea..."

Satan's tail is as dangerous as his wits. It has razor-sharp edges that have shown Satan its strength in fights and fits of rage. He hates the thought of hurting you, no matter how much you want to touch it.

Even if somehow you have managed to convince him that he won't hurt you, he is still hesitant. He keeps plasters and bandages on standby as you gently press your finger on his tail. The tales aren't false. A light press, and you can already feel how sharp it is. Press any harder, and you'll cut yourself. It makes a rattle noise when it moves, like two bones hitting each other.

After you pet his tail without hurting yourself, he'll be slightly more relaxed with it. He's still wary, though.

So, no tail hugs like Leviathan or Belphegor. Sorry :(

Asmodeus

"Oh, hon! I know they're beautiful! And of course you can touch them. You don't have to ask, I don't bite. Unless you'd like that~"

Asmodeus' wings are drop-dead gorgeous! Of course, you'd stare at their beauty. You don't ever have to ask to touch his wings as he'll probably ask you to touch them often.

Asmo's wings are soft and smooth, like his porcelain skin. They would have been like Mammon's leathery wings if Asmo didn't dose his own wings with skin-care and wing-care products. A very nice texture to touch. His wings flutter with excitement when you pet them. He just can't help it!

Most times, when you pet his wings, it can quickly take a spicy turn. How can he not when you are caressing him so sensually?! But, he does slightly prefer the more domestic feeling of cuddling with his favourite person (other than himself) with them showering him in affection. The only thing he really ever wants...

He spends so long on his wings' care because he really misses his old wings. They were so pure and beautiful. Now they're dull... To make up with that, he has a 2 hour care routine, per wing, that he does every week. If you would like, he can show you his wing-care routine, and you can help him too! He'd love that! He has 4 wings, and caring for each of them is a time exhausting task. He appreciates that you take time out of your day to help him.

Beelzebub

"Yes. You can. Just... Be careful with them..."

Beelzebub's wings are delicate, despite the rest of him. His insect wings can easily tear, but fortunately, his wings regenerate quickly. It's still painful. Because of this, he very nervous at letting people touch them, but he knows you won't purposely hurt him.

Beel's wings are thin. It's kind of hard to pet them. Doesn't mean you can't have a closer look to something so different from anything else you have seen. His wings make a buzzing noise when he flaps them really fast. The same buzz makes most buffets in devildom have flashbacks.

His wings are too weak to make him fly. Have you seen him? There is no way those thin wings can make that buff bloke fly! If anything, it might let him glide or hover for a short time for sports. He has to buzz them really quick to do that, so when he is attempting to hover, a big gush of wind happens and it is able to send you flying.

Beelzebub is happy you like his wings, but he is sad that you can't really pet them like the other brothers. It is what it is.

Belphegor

"Really? Huh... You're werid. You can touch it if you let me use you as a cushion."

Now you have a lazy demon napping on your lap, and he is not moving no matter how much you try. I mean, a free nap spot and free pets. How can he say no?

The base of his tail is rought fur, and the end is very fluffy, a perfect pillow, but it's really knotty as he is too lazy to care for it. Maybe you can brush it? He'll let you brush it. It saves him from getting scolded at by Lucifer or Asmodeus for not looking after himself because he was lazy. Once you've brushed it, it poofs up and becomes all fuzzy.

Unlike Satan's and Levi's tail, Belphie can't control his tail, so he can't use them as another arm or weapon. The most he can do with his tail is wag it like a cow would do.

Belphie also trips on his tail a lot. When Belphie falls over, he doesn't get up. He just lays there and waits. He waits until one of his brothers or you pick him up. It's the main reason why he carries his tail, not cause it's a fluffy pillow. It being like a fluffy pillow is just a happy little coincidence.

•°~* Have a lovely day! *~°•

[peachsukii]

What if reader was a new classmate and months went by before bakugou even noticed them? Maybe noticed them for the first time while training one day or something and he became infatuated with reader (NSFW please! I <3 your writing!)

oooooh this is a great prompt, thank you for sending it in!! and thank you so much, it makes my day when someone compliments my writing! 🔥✨

Cruel Compulsions

『 ♡ 』  k.bakugo x fem!reader ꒰ senior year of UA | aged to 18 | infatuated & pining bakugo ꒱ ⇢ as a new transfer from a neighboring hero academy to UA, class 3A welcomes you with open arms. you fit in with the class seamlessly, with the exception of one person - katsuki bakugo. he doesn't give you the time of day, ignoring you any chance he gets since he views you as an "outsider." at least, that's what he projects and not how he truly feels.

꒰ tags & warnings ꒱ 18+ MDNI Smut; masturbation, dirty/lewd thoughts, wet dreams, first-time handjob, first kiss (bakugo) | obsessively infatuated, mutual pining, hidden feelings, avoidant but horny bakugo, mean/aggressive toward reader's attention, awkward confession, sexually-forward and comfortable reader, friends to friends with benefits, fluffy ending ꒰ cross posted to ao3 | wc; ~2.4k ꒱ -`✧ katsuki bakugo masterlist

Bakugo's in the school locker room after the day's training sessions, left forearm against the wall of the shower to hold himself upright with his head hung under the water's stream. His mind is swimming in a sea of dirty thoughts as his right hand fists his dick - your body floating in the aforementioned sea.

He couldn't help it, you're gorgeous and beautiful spank bank material without even trying.

───

You surprised everyone when UA announced your transfer so late in the hero course. He immediately had judgements before meeting you. How did you manage to transfer during senior year from another academy? Would you need special privileges to catch up to the classes' progress? You were probably some rich bitch who had daddy's money buy your spot in the program.

That all crumbled the moment you walked through the door of class 3As homeroom, Aizawa introducing you to the class on a random Wednesday in the summer.

"Treat her with respect. She's a top student from her previous academy and can kick just as much ass as the rest of you."

Bakugo's heart stuttered in his chest, hypnotized by the way your bare thighs complimented the uniform skirt you're forced to wear. Your button up didn't leave much to the imagination in terms of your luscious figure, the front buttons ever so slightly strained over your chest to contain your breasts. His face was hot as he ogled you, unknowingly drinking in your features to commit them to memory. The feeling was foreign as he'd never been so attracted, let alone infatuated, with anyone.

It had been months since your transfer and Bakugo couldn't bring himself to have a conversation with you without wanting to explode, no pun intended. His palms would drip with sweat, ready to ignite at the slightest touch if you asked him a question or greeted him in passing. He'd gotten into the habit of averting his gaze, turning his back to you or simply removing himself from your space if you got too close.

"Don't worry about him," Midoriya commented regularly about his best friend's behavior towards you. "He's not much of a people person. He'll warm up to you when he's ready!"

Months of endless wet dreams, steamy thoughts and longing stares. Wherever you went, you clouded his vision and blocked out the rest of the world. He didn't understand why he was so enamored with you. He just...was. He kept telling himself it wasn't an obsession, just a stupid ass crush that will pass with time.

News flash - it didn't.

He - the Katsuki Bakugo - didn't have the courage to ask you out.

───

The training period was at the end of the school day, thankfully, and most of the others preferred to head back to their dorms to shower, leaving Bakugo alone in the locker room. He was free to moan and groan in peace, the steam of the hot water only adding to his shameless delight.

"Nngh, it's...not...fair," he moans to himself, barely above a whisper. His grip tightens around his cock, hand slipping and sliding at a brutal pace, eyes screwed shut to watch the raunchy movie play in his mind. Your lying in his bed, remnants of sweat from sparring across your bare tits and stomach. Your UA track jacket is splayed beneath you, the only other article of clothing being a pair of pink lace panties covering your center.

Why pink? He didn't know, you just seemed like the kind of girl to wear lacy underwear - well, he wished you were the type of girl who wore sexy panties, especially if it was just for him.

Your lips were parted in anticipation, flush creeping up your chest and neck as it settled across your cheeks.

"Katsuki, please...," you begged, fluttering your eyes up at him. It didn't take much for him to crumble, swiping your panties to the side and thrusting deep into your soaked pussy.

Like clockwork, Bakugo explodes, covering his hand in spend before getting to imagine fucking you. He can never make it to touching you in any of his dreams, you're always just out of reach or he finishes, cutting the scenario short. He rinses the evidence down the drain and turns the water temperature ice cold.

───

The next day, Bakugo sluggishly made his way to homeroom, running a few minutes later than usual. He rounded the corner on the third floor when he practically bumps into you, startling himself.

"Oh! Morning Bakugo, how are you?" you ask, a pleasant smile gracing your lips. He stares at them, assuming you'd just applied lip gloss with the way they shine under the hallway lights.

"Fine." Bakugo turns his eyes to the floor, stuffing his hands into his pockets nervously. There's a pause between the conversation and his first instinct is to shove past you and bolt for homeroom, but he doesn't.

"Can I ask you something?" you say as you grab his forearm to take him away from the stairwell. He recoils at your touch, ripping his arm from your grasp.

"Sorry, I shouldn't...forget it."

You're turning to head down the hallway when his anxiety quiets for a split second, allowing him to speak to you for the first time in months.

"No, wait...'m sorry. What is it?"

Bakugo's eyes haven't left the tiles on the floor, but something is telling him what you wanted to ask was important. You don't turn to face him when your shoulders droop.

"You're always running from or actively avoiding me. Did I do something wrong?" There's a sadness in your voice that makes his heart drop into his stomach. He was an asshole for not thinking how his actions would affect you, too focused on running away like a fucking coward instead of treating you like a person.

"No. You didn't do anythin' wrong," he mumbles, tapping his foot restlessly.

"Then why the hell can you not even stand to be around me?! You're the only person in the whole class who acts like I have the plague."

'Shit, shit, fuck! What do I even say?' Bakugo thinks to himself, thoughts racing to find some kind of excuse. The words bubble up in his throat faster than he can stop them from spilling out.

"It's 'cause I like you!"

Uh oh.

You whip your whole body around to face him, eyes wide with an eyebrow cocked in confusion. "...What?"

His mind is screaming 'run!,' but his body won't move.

Shaking your head, you start to laugh, relishing in the ridiculousness of the situation. He liked you, but had a case of the "eww cooties!" bullshit? Oh, if only you knew.

"I'm not gonna talk about this here, I'll come by your dorm after classes today. Okay?"

Bakugo finally meets your gaze, gritting his teeth to prevent any other unwanted confessions. "...'kay."

You give him a wave and head off toward the 3A homeroom down the hall, leaving him with his thoughts.

───

After class, you keep your promise and head to the fourth floor of the dormitories to Bakugo's room. One tap of your knuckles and the door swings open.

"Hey, still free to talk?" You ask, giving him a second chance to shoo you away.

"Yeah, come in." It was taking everything in him not to dart into the hallway and run until he couldn't anymore. He shuts the door behind you quietly. The latch barely clicks when he feels your hand on his bicep, your grip catching him off guard and causing him to stumble into the wall. Your body is suddenly in his personal bubble, chest pressed against his when your lips crash on to his.

'Is this really fucking happening?'

A surprised groan escapes Bakugo between the kiss, his hands flexing at his sides to keep himself together. He can feel the excess sweat begin to stain his palms.

You pull back with a smack of your lips. "Better?"

His mind was completely blank while simultaneously running at mach speed. How do you look so...stunning, all the time? He could feel the stickiness of your lip gloss on his lips - it tasted better than he imagined it would, a faint cherry flavor dancing on his tongue.

"Earth to Bakugooo!" you call, waving a hand in front of his face.

Bakugo violently shivers, his nerves catching up with the emotions flowing through his whole body.

'Don't be a fucking coward, Katsuki. Just do it!' He screams internally, urging himself to make a goddamn move.

"Oh shit, was that your first kiss?!" you yell, not able to fathom that he had never been kissed. "I'm sorry, I assumed -"

He grabs the back of your head, diving in to capture your lips once more. Time slows to a crawl as Bakugo maps out every inch of your mouth, savoring every second of the moment. Your lips are much softer and plush than he dreamed they would be, and if you weren't holding on to him, he was convinced he'd float away into the stratosphere. You can feel the sweat on his palms drip against the nape of your neck, but it doesn’t bother you. It’s warm, a honey-like consistency seeping into the fabric of your uniform.

He breaks the kiss, resting his forehead against your own.

"I would have assumed someone as hot as yourself would have a body count by now," you tease, tracing a light circle over his exposed collarbone.

"Shut up," he whispers shakily. "Was never interested in that shit."

"Fair enough, but right now, your body is telling me a different story."

You let your hand trail down his body, brushing against his clothed erection. Bakugo's entire body stiffens, all the muscles in his body turning to stone at the featherlight touch of your fingers.

"Tell me to stop and I will."

"No."

The answer is immediate, a growl swallowed by your mouths colliding once again. Your fingers trace the outline of the tent in his slacks a second time before mindlessly fumbling with his belt. His hands are occupied with grabbing your hair and waist to pull you as close as possible, all precaution on his side melting like putty in your hands. The adrenaline rush of it all was fueling the fire churning in his guts, practically high off your affection and you’ve barely touched him.

The belt clasp flops to each side as you maneuver your way through the buttons and zipper expertly.

'How the fuck is this happening right now?'

Your hand swiftly pulls at his slacks, enough to allow room to squeeze through the waistband of his boxers, your delicate fingers wrapping around his dick. It's throbbing, painfully so, and burning hot to the touch. Between sloppy kisses, Bakugo gasps as if it’s his last breath on earth, trembling beneath your palm. You thumb over the tip, using the pre-spend to glide your hand over his shaft. The moan that is coaxed out of him is deep and voracious, hungry for more of your touch. A lightning bolt strikes through your core, his ecstasy fueling your own desire as you continue to clash tongues with him.

“Your moans are so fucking hot, Katsuki,” you pant between kisses. “Way hotter than I ever dreamed they’d be.”

Oh god, you used his name. You’ve never said it before. And the first he’s hearing it is…like this? Bakugo’s rocketing toward orgasm at the thought of potentially hearing it again.

And again. And again.

Sparks are flying in his abdomen, an entire Fourth of July fireworks show erupting as he squirms beneath you. He’s interchangeably moaning and whining into your mouth, shuddering uncontrollably.

“Fuck, ‘m-mmph!”

He attempts to silence himself as he spills out all over your hand and in his boxers, endless ropes of white pouring out of him. You remove your hand from his pants, placing a peck to his cheek and walking into his bathroom.

What. The. Fuck!?

Bakugo’s in the afterglow of his orgasm, awestruck as he slouched against the wall trying to catch his breath. His chest heaved and thighs quivered - the fact that he was still standing was a miracle.

───

The two of you sat in silence on his bed, waiting for the other to start the conversation. He took a deep breath, turning to face you with blushing cheeks.

“I…never, fuck, sorry. I’m fuckin’ nervous,” Bakugo begins to explain, trying to compose himself. You tenderly slip your fingers in his, intertwining them in an awkward hold. It calms his nerves enough to continue.

“I didn’t understand this feelin’ at all. You show up outta nowhere and…knocked me on my ass. I’ve never experienced anythin’ like this and I…didn’t handle it well.”

“It’s alright, water under the bridge. For the record, I always thought you were hot,” you giggle, shooting him a wink. “You just kept running and didn’t let me hit on you.”

Of course Bakugo was his own worst enemy in this situation. He could see that clearly now as opposed to his previous blindness by a fierce case of infatuation. He smirked, finally letting his walls come down - brick by brick.

“I settled for kissing Kaminari one night instead.”

Your comment makes him choke on his own spit, sputtering out, “Y’kissed Dunceface?! When?!”

That gets you cackling, removing your hand from his as you fall back onto his bed. You’re holding your sides while Bakugo’s crossing his arms, nose to the ceiling at your reaction.

“Hah! It was months ago and only once. He cried after.”

Now he’s laughing, breaking his stoic facade. He’s somewhat taken aback by his own laughter, silently acknowledging how easy communicating with you turned out to be. You return to sitting upright and sigh.

“I’m sorry, too, for jumping you like that. We don’t have to talk about it, either.”

Bakugo fidgets with the hem of the comforter on his bed. “I said I didn’t want ya to stop, so don’t apologize.”

You smile, a rosy tint appearing on the apples of your cheeks. “I like you, Katsuki. I’m okay with doing this - no labels, fast or slow - while we get to know each other. No pressure, though. We could never talk again if that’s what you wanted.”

“I obviously like you too, idiot. Just be patient with me. ‘S all I ask of ya.”

“Deal!”

Bakugo leans over and kisses you, soft and slow, a way of him saying thank you. He’s unabashedly on cloud nine, glowing with newfound confidence, all thanks to you.

Did that stop his raunchy and taunting wet dreams in the coming months? Not even a little. He just has a better solution to his growing salacious appetite - you.

⋆ ˚ʚɞ — thank you again @bakubae-by for the prompt! 😊 tags; @slayfics

[daddyricsdoll]

1k ✭ Celebration

Thank you guys for 1k!! So as a little celebration I have some prompts most smutty and others fluffy which you can ask for with a driver. Some can be used as both smut and fluff so choose whichever one you would like and I will write you small blurb (under 1k words) with it. 🫶🏽 (Finishes/no more requests by 1st of April)

(The ones I've already written will be under the prompt)

“Give me a little spin.”

Lovely ✭ Max Verstappen

Pretty ✭ Jude Bellingham

“Oh that dress looks great on you, but it would look even better on the floor.”

“Fuck, I’ll make it fit.”

Dress ✭ Logan Sargeant

Strangers ✭ Oscar Piastri

Fit ✭ Daniel Ricciardo

Carino ✭ Carlos Sainz

Eager ✭ Ollie Bearman 

“If your parents weren’t here you’d be on your hands and knees.”

Hands and Knees ✭ Lando Norris

Family ✭ Fernando Alonso

“Let me take your innocence.”

Innocent ✭ Daniel Ricciardo

Perfect ✭ Logan Sargeant

Cause it's too cold ✭ Paul Aron

Carino ✭ Carlos Sainz

Favourite ✭ Charles Leclerc 

Show or tell ✭ Fernando Alonso

Let me ✭ Oscar Piastri

“Kiss me.”

“I’ve waited so long for this.”

“I’ve always wondered what you tasted like.”

Heaven and Hell ✭ Charles Leclerc

“You look so (fucking) gorgeous."

“Don’t make me pull over or I’ll fuck you till you can’t speak.”

Tease ✭ Oscar Piastri

Helmet ✭ Fernando Alonso

Speak ✭ Lewis Hamilton

Favourite ✭ Charles Leclerc 

“Show me what you do when I’m not here.”

“Can I hold you?”

Hold you ✭ Oscar Piastri

Princesa ✭ Fernando Alonso

“... I think- no I am in love with you.”

Playlist ✭ Ollie Bearman

“I could stay in you forever.”

Forever ✭ Fernando Alonso

“Do you ever shut up?” “Only when I’m eating you out.”

Shut up ✭ Lewis Hamilton

Starve ✭ Lando Norris

“I’m stopping myself from kissing you right now.”

“It’s hard to not grab you and fuck you against that wall.”

Captivate ✭ Fernando Alonso

So hard ✭ Arthur Leclerc

Win ✭ George Russell 

“Come here and cuddle me.”

Cuddle me ✭ Paul Aron

I love you ✭ Lando Norris

Cute ✭ Oscar Piastri

Show or tell ✭ Fernando Alonso

“Let’s do this again in the morning.”

“You have no clue how much I love you.”

How much I love you ✭ Ollie Bearman

[minteayoongimakesmewoozi]

So that ask reblog...

4, 14, and 30? 4 feels like a tanjiro+ayame shenanigans while 30 is a perfect zenitsu with anyone. oh and 14 for the boy Inosuke can't forget him, totally can see him stealing clothes from the people he likes.

...if you want to 👉👈

of course i want to, i'm so not normal about fits and the idiots squad that even my best friends are embarrassed to be seen in public with me, considering how much I have both kny and fits on the brain

4. "i don't think either of us are qualified for this but sure, go for it."

Infiltration, as Ayame had mentioned before, was not a strong suit of the Kisatsutai. They were swordsmen and soldiers, first and foremost. They were not shinobi, who were more comfortable hiding behind disguises and fake names; their strengths lay in meeting their adversaries face to face with nothing but their breaths and their swords.

Zenitsu cleared his throat and delicately said, "The gyuus around Tokito-ya are pretty nice. And they never say no to a pretty face."

Ayame struggled not to make a face.

If they wanted a pretty face, Inosuke was ideal, but he wasn't at Tokito-ya with them. Even if he was, he wasn't allowed to speak because his attempts at falsetto were miserable at best - and mortifying at worse.

She drew her eyes to Tanjirou, wordlessly pleading with him. Sumiko had a much friendlier reputation than Ayako. Even if a pretty face wasn't his strong suit, wouldn't he be able to get information just by being earnest? That was why Koinatsu-Oiran had taken to him so easily. It certainly hadn't been anything Ayame had done!

"I can't do it," Ayame said slowly, returning her gaze to Zenitsu, who was looking at her expectantly. "I can't... flirt for information."

Her nose wrinkled. She could barely get the word out of her mouth.

"And," she added, "I don't think the gyuus would know that much. It would make more sense for me to ask the shinzous."

"It would," Zenitsu agreed easily - suspiciously, "but you're not getting very far with them either, ne?"

Damn it. He was right. Getting information from the shinzous wasn't going well; having been raised on Tokito-ya, they were more wary about being loose-lipped around anyone. They were more familiar with how a word spoken carelessly could end a career - and with it, any hope of freedom.

Nonetheless, Ayame found herself turning to Tanjirou with wide eyes. It was obvious what she was asking.

"I can't do it," Tanjirou yelped, cheeks red. "I don't know the first thing about fl - flir - flirt - "

He couldn't even *say* the word. He was far too honest to fake an attraction where there was none.

Zenitsu shrugged. "It was just a suggestion. Maybe we'll get lucky, ne?"

Ayame pursed her lips and shrugged. She knew better than most that luck was rarely on her side.

"If you stare at him any longer, he might combust."

Ayame glanced at Tanjirou as he sidled up to her side. She leaned back around the corner with a sigh.

"But that's the gyuu that hangs around Okami-san and Danna-san the most," she grumbled. She peered up at her partner. "He would know something, wouldn't he?"

"Probably."

They stood in silence for a moment. Zenitsu's ridiculous suggestion swirled in her mind.

"I should probably try," she said suddenly.

"... Yeah." Tanjirou nodded, a frown on his lips. "Of course. For Suma-san."

Right. For Suma-san.

She glanced around the corner again, then shook her head. "I'm not qualified for this."

This being this entire farce of an infiltration. She wasn't a shinobi, and she wasn't trained in getting information out of anyone.

A smile lifted the corners of his lips. "I don't think either of us are qualified for this but sure, go for it."

Ayame scrubbed her face, called up as much courage as she had and squared her shoulders. It was now or never. If it didn't work, then it didn't work. But if it did, then it was for the greater good.

"Wish me luck," she muttered and finally stepped around the corner to approach the gyuu.

She missed the way Tanjirou swallowed nervously, his eyes following her every move as his hand rose to fiddle with an earring.

(It didn't surprise her that she didn't manage to get any usable information. It did surprise Tanjirou - he would have told her everything she needed to hear if she had fluttered her eyelashes at him like that.)

14. "i've been looking for my hoodie-" "my hoodie, you mean."

(modern!au)

Something else crashed to the ground. Inosuke let out a curse, before stomping out of his room and into another once more. He had been doing that for the last half an hour.

Ayame watched him, lifting her mug to her lips to take a sip of her hot tea before replacing it onto the dining table. Zenitsu was lazily watching Inosuke's circuit from the couch, golden eyes trailing after their irate friend.

Tanjirou only looked up from his laptop when Inosuke passed behind his chair for the third time.

"What is it?" he asked, as concerned as ever.

That was exactly what Inosuke was waiting for. He whirled on Tanjirou and declared, "I'm looking for my hoodie - "

"My hoodie, you mean."

At Ayame's interjection, Inosuke scowled and crossed his arms. Tanjirou slowly looked between his friends, his lips twitching.

"The blue one with the seigaiha on the pocket, right?" asked Tanjirou, even though he already knew the answer.

Anyone who knew Inosuke for longer than a week was aware that leaving any of their clothes unattended was just begging to have it stolen from them. He had already stolen a handful of Tanjirou's shirts, not to mention a couple of Zenitsu's cardigans. It was Ayame's fault for leaving her favourite hoodie lying on the sofa.

"Well? Where is it?" Inosuke demanded, finger pointed irately at Ayame's face.

She slurped at her tea loudly.

Then -

"I washed it," she said simply.

"You washed it?" Inosuke repeated, mouth dropping open. "Why?!"

"Inosuke, it was starting to smell. I hadn't washed it in a month when you stole it."

"I didn't steal it." Ayame raised an eyebrow at Inosuke's protest. "And I like it that way! Now, where is it?"

"In the washing machine - "

Inosuke took off running for the laundry room in the basement of their apartment. Ayame was hot on his heels, almost tripping over the mound of shoes that the four of them had failed to put away.

"Inosuke!" she shouted, voice echoing through the halls. "It's wet!"

"It's mine!"

"No, it's my hoodie! You have your own clothes!"

Zenitsu and Tanjirou shared an amused look.

"We should probably go with them," Zenitsu suggested, even as he made no move to leave his comfortable perch. "Before they break something, ne."

Tanjirou hummed, his eyes drifting back down to his notes. "Or," he said slowly, "we could just let them deal with it themselves while we enjoy the peace and quiet?"

They shared another look, then settled down to do their own things. It was just for a couple minutes...

30. "i can hear your heartbeat- why is it going so fast all of a sudden?"

Zenitsu had very good hearing. He knew it, his friends knew it, so they were used to his sudden comments. For example -

"I can hear your heartbeat - why is it going so fast all of a sudden?" he asked, squinting at Ayame-chan.

Ayame-chan jolted from her thoughts, frowning at him. "What? I don't know what you're talking about."

In the silence, Zenitsu focused on his friend. Sure enough, her heartbeat was elevated, drumming rapidly in her chest. he raised his gaze to hers, but her eyes skittered away from his. They wavered, glancing somewhere before settling on something by Zenitsu's ear.

Narrowing his eyes, he followed the path of her momentary glance. Then, an exasperated sigh left his lips. He didn't know why he was surprised.

Tanjirou was speaking to one of the senior Demon Slayers that was in Himejima's station with them. As he watched, Tanjirou laughed once more, his nose scrunching up in a way that even Zenitsu found cute.

The heartbeat next to him spiked once more.

"Seriously?" he asked, somewhat baffled, even though he shouldn't be.

Ayame-chan buried her face in her hands. The tips of her ears were red; he would bet every zeni he had that her face was completely red as well.

A smile tugged at Zenitsu's lips. Ne, Ayame-chan was getting even cuter these days - ever since she could admit that she was in love with Tanjirou.

"You guys," he sighed to himself, "are ridiculous."

Now that Zenitsu was privy to the way Ayame-chan was so effortlessly charmed by Tanjirou, he found himself tuning into the way their heartbeats reacted when they were around each other. He couldn't help but notice that Ayame-chan's heartbeat spiked whenever Tanjirou laughed - but not when he smiled. When his boulder-brained friend turned to Ayame-chan with the corners of his lips curled upwards, her heartbeat seemed to settle and a sweet tinkling sound of a higher-toned major chord would play in her sound.

It was so sweet that his teeth gnashed together. And they still had the audacity to not be together. He was going to scream.

He was so distracted by Ayame-chan's sudden spiking heartbeats that he almost completely missed Tanjirou's reaction.

It wasn't as obvious as Ayame-chan's. Rather than a sudden elevation followed by a serene drop, his heart rate quickened whenever Ayame-chan was nearby. Sometimes, the only way he realised Ayame-chan was near was when Tanjirou's heartbeat steadily accelerated until it was a steady drumming that was uncharacteristic of how languid his heartbeat usually was.

When Zenitsu noticed it the first time, his mouth dropped open in outrage. He was silent as he saw the way Tanjirou's eyes immediately sought out Ayame-chan - it didn't matter if she was speaking to someone else, or if she was looking for them. It was such a subtle thing; it was the sun beating down on you, relentless and gentle.

Gods. It wasn't just one single thing that Tanjirou found charming about Ayame-chan. He was just so hopelessly enamoured with her all the time that his heartbeat was always a little faster in her presence.

This, Zenitsu eventually realised, was the sound of love.

Yeah, he was definitely going to scream.

"Nezuko-chan, look out!"

Despite the ache in his legs, he crossed the distance between himself and Nezuko-chan with a breath. He pulled her small body close, spinning them around so the falling branch didn't so much as graze her. The panic on his tongue was a familiar sensation that he had almost forgotten in the year of peace they had experienced.

His heartbeat was roaring in his ears, almost drowning out Ayame's and Tanjirou's panicked shouts. The couple were quickly dropping whatever was in their hands as they quickly approached Zenitsu and Nezuko-chan. He couldn't understand a word of what they were saying.

Instead, he looked down at Nezuko-chan. Her dark pink eyes were wide, her lips still parted in shock.

Zenitsu glanced over his shoulder, almost sick at how large the branch was. It wouldn't have killed her, but it was still big enough that it would have injured her pretty badly.

"Are," he said through a dry mouth, "okay, Nezuko-chan?"

Nezuko-chan blinked, her eyes finding his. Pink dusted her cheeks as she nodded slowly.

Tanjirou sighed, raking his fingers through his hair. "Thank the gods Zenitsu was here."

"Yeah," Nezuko-chan said quietly. Then, her eyes widened. "But Zenitsu-san - you're hurt!"

Eh?

Now that the adrenaline had passed, Zenitsu realised that his arm was aching and stinging. When he finally looked at his right arm, he nearly swooned at the blood welling up from the scratches on his arm, his sleeve torn.

"That's - ah - A - Ayame!" he whimpered.

"Honestly," Ayame muttered, a fondly exasperated smirk on her lips. "You're ridiculous, Zenitsu. Come on, let's go sit down. I'll see if I can rustle up a first-aid kit somewhere."

Nezuko-chan held Zenitsu up, laughing under her breath. The sound sank into Zenitsu's soul, keeping his heart light and full as they wobbled over to a raised wall. He sat down heavily, calmed by Nezuko-chan's warmth as she fussed over his injured arm.

Now that he wasn't panicking, the pain in his arm really wasn't that bad. He had gotten much worse injuries before; it was just the suddenness that had caught him off-guard.

The roaring in his ears subsided, but there was still a hummingbird heartbeat in his ears.

It took him a moment to realise that it was coming from Nezuko-chan. Even though the danger had passed, her heartbeat was still rapidly drumming in her chest.

And she was looking right at him.

[haunting-venus]

enter, sandman

↳ neteyam x fem!omatikaya!reader

content warnings | smut ( minors dni ), somnophilia, oral ( f ), praise and some dirty talk, desperate neteyam, masturbation ( m ), characters are aged up !

word count: 1886

notes | pretty light on the actual prompt but here is my first submission for romancing pandora ! day one — somnophilia, turned out pretty fluffy but who doesn’t love some pussywhipped neteyam, enjoy friends

na'vi dictionary | syil — meer deer ; olo’eyktan — male clan leader ; yawnetu — loved one / lover / beloved person ; tewng — loincloth

You and Neteyam had been circling each other your entire lives, opposing forces drawn to one another despite all your innate differences. You admired each other from afar for years, skirting looks and kind greetings eventually evolving into shared dinners and stolen touches beneath the eclipse.

It was new and terrifying, having the eyes of the future Olo’eyktan so filled with adoration and lust and hope whenever they laid on you.

When Neteyam finally approached you officially to ask for you to be his—in body, in soul, in life—you were sure the earth beneath you shook with the force of your love. You were euphoric, giddy with the prospect that the man you desired so fully from the time you were children wanted you as well.

Some questioned his choice, though it was always clear to you how well you fit in each other’s lives. You weren’t a skilled hunter or forager, but you had a kind heart and strong mind, making you perfect for teaching the younglings of the clan. Neteyam was a born warrior, a boy made of steel bones and gunpowder. Where he had to be strong and immovable, you could be adaptable and kind, giving each other a perfect balance in life.

Being bonded to Neteyam was a lot of pressure, no doubt. Some expected you to be perfect, while others criticized you for being weak, a never-ending pull at your heart. It was all easy to brush off when Neteyam’s strong hands caressed your shoulders.

It helped too that your chemistry grew indescribably as your relationship progressed. The two of you were crazy about each other, hardly capable of containing the heat and excitement you felt in your newly blossoming relationship.

His hand would often find your thigh throughout shared meals, inevitably ending with the two of you sneaking past the trees and with his head between your legs. You would visit him on his breaks from teaching, stealing kisses and teasing touches away from the eyes of the younger warriors. You were often teased by your friends about how you could not keep your hands from your betrothed for more than a minute.

It was part of what made the time apart so unbearably aching.

You knew he had to leave. The syil, a normally elusive creature, would be gathering for mating season in valleys a few days' ride away. The hunting party had been planned for weeks now, with Neteyam at its head. It was a great stride in showing the clan his leadership skills, the longest hunt beyond the village he would lead on his own. The reap of the hunt would be great, sustaining the clan through many days and providing countless pelts for the cold season ahead. 

It did little to stave the emptiness in your heart or between your legs.

It grew lonely at night, especially in the cold drizzles of the rainy season when the hearth fires fizzled. You tucked yourself beneath woven mats, huddling against the soft fibers for warmth as your body craved the solid weight of Neteyam behind you. After what felt like hours of restless turning and shivering, a lonely sleep crept over your mind.

A heated groan rouses you from your slumber.

Your fingers tighten along the edge of the woven mats, flung to the side to expose you to the night’s chill, cooling against your heated skin. Your hair sticks against the curve of your neck, wet with sweat. There was an insistent nudge between your legs and a weight at the bone of your hip, pressing you firmly into your sleeping mats.

Light of the eclipse shadows across your home, dimly illuminating Neteyam’s face where it lay nestled between your thighs. There was a flush high on his cheeks, pupils dilated to show only a thin ring of gold as he gazed upon you. A small moan rumbles across the sensitive flesh of your folds as he notices you blink awake.

“‘Teyam-what the, oh-” Sleep still reached at the edge of your consciousness, muddling your thoughts as an easy pleasure trickled through you. Your hips move before your mind catches up, rutting towards Neteyam’s wide tongue as you moan. You could hardly think clearly with Neteyam’s tongue on you when you were fully awake, now your brain felt completely like mush.

“I’m sorry, yawnetu, I could not wait. You looked so sweet-'' His voice was weak and breathy, and you vaguely noticed one hand snuck beneath his tewng to palm at his cock.

Fuck, he feels so good and so right between you, but when did he get here? When did this start? Great Mother, why did you like it? You could see him in your mind’s eye, tired and worn from the long hunting trek, overcome with such want for you that waking you barely crossed his mind. In your head, he was needy and wanting, thinking of nothing but how he couldn’t stand to be apart from the wet heat between your legs for another second. The thought made you indescribably hot, legs trembling at the voracious way he gripped your hips as he dipped his tongue down into your entrance.

Your tewng hangs half-off your left thigh, rumbled and glistening with either saliva or your juices. Neteyam’s lips are soft and wet, trailing lightly between your slick folds. You try to gather your thoughts between the jolts of pleasure, bringing one hand down to stroke across your lover’s head. “Y-you’re back early.”

“The rains were too heavy, left early.” His fingers massage the plush of your thighs, trailing back up to trace the line of glowing freckles across your stomach. You squirm at the feather-light touches, inching your hips back to his panting lips. “Haah-such a nice present waiting for me at home, yawnetu, all spread out and waiting. Did you miss me?”

“I-I did, I—shit ‘Teyam—missed your mouth, your cock, please.”

“I know, baby, I know, let me give it to you.” His mouth fell back on you, slow licks on the sensitive skin around your labia, skirting around your hole and dipping into the junction of your thigh before darting against your clit. He breathed heavily from his nose, inhaling your scent as your legs tightening around the sides of his head increased the throb in his cock.

Your moans increase as his wide shoulders bully your thighs further apart, tongue giving wide and strong strokes against your clit before sucking it between his shining lips. You can feel the heat growing and tightening at the base of your stomach, fluttering against the dip of his thumb into your cunt. 

The slick sounds of your arousal weave in between the wet sounds of his moans, hot and yearning as they vibrate through your clit and into your bones. You can vaguely hear the sound of him working his own cock, imagining the way the tip peeks between his thick fingers to leak onto himself as he devours you. He always looked so pretty when he worked himself over, eyes blown and pleading.

The movements of his tongue quicken with the pace of your whining moans, finally moving to rub firm circles over your clit that have you keening into his hot touch. Your fingers card through his braids, using the grip to keep his mouth firm against your mound. As if he had any plans of moving.

“That’s-fuck-feels good, baby, but-want your cock,” You mewl, fingers tightening around the back of his head. Your voice hitches with every labored breath, pussy clenching on emptiness with every beat of your racing heart and it’s been so long, your body craves for him.

“Just wait, yawnetu, soon. I-I need to taste you.” He mumbles the promise into your folds, gasping and panting into you with each tug at his cock. His face is near rutting into you, nose bumping at the top of your pussy and inhaling deep breaths of your sweat and slick. “Thought of it the w-whole time, just like this. Let me.” 

The deep breathiness of his voice has arousal shooting through you. You know neither of you will probably be awake long enough to see through on that promise, but it doesn’t really matter. It’s enough to have him here, now, delighting himself so fully with eating at you that it has him desperate and breathless. His moans rumble through you, whispering praises and encouragements into the wetness of your core as he drives you closer and closer to the edge.

“Fuck, Neteyam.” You have one hand on the back of his head, the other gripped tightly into the woven mats as pleasure begins to crest over you. “I-I’m gonna-”

“Yeah? Come on, yawnetu.” You swear you see a devilish grin at the corner of his lips before your eyes clench shut in pleasure. 

Your orgasm rolls through you with a gasping breath, legs tightening around Neteyam’s shoulders as pleasure runs wet and hot from deep in your stomach to every edge of your body. Neteyam groans against you when you tighten under him, tongue swirling softly against your clit until you’re twitching against him, voice heavy with pants of his name and begging him to just get over here already.

Neteyam’s hand is still gripping at the meat of your hip when you open your eyes, now merely inches from your face as he holds himself above you. His hand moves fast and tight on his hard cock, eyes hooded in pleasure.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty-haah-got me so close, baby.”

His deep blue skin is shining under the eclipse with perspiration and your slick, the little freckles over his cheeks and shoulders glimmering lightly. You let your eyes sleepily rove over his wide shoulders and muscled chest, taking in every inch of how fucking good he looks above you.

Your eyes are glassy with pleasure as you gaze up at him with wet lashes, each brush of him against you sending you twitching in sensitivity. “I want it on me, please Neteyam.”

His eyes are unfocused as he comes apart above you, ears twitching and mouth falling open in wet pants. He burrows his head into the crook of your neck as he gets close, licking feverishly at the junction of your neck, the wet head of his cock bumping against your belly.

You reach behind his head again, bringing his forehead to rest against yours, eyes drawn on his face as he groans with each stroke. Your fingers brush along his largest braid close to the skull before rubbing your thumb firmly against the base. His eyes roll slightly as he gasps into your mouth, hips spasming unevenly as his orgasm wracks through him. His hand tightens on your hip, tip of his cock rubbing against you as he empties himself onto you.

The heat in you is slow and lazy, something that will creep into your dreams to be dealt with in the morning. Your bones feel heavy with Neteyam’s heat cuddling up next to you, mind already fuzzy with edges of sleep.

Neteyam’s face is lax in pleasure, nuzzling into the side of your body and pulling you taut to him. You can already hear his breathing evening out with the beginnings of sleep as he mumbles into your hair. “Missed you, yawnetu.”

“Welcome home, ‘Teyam.”

tags | @tallulah477 ; @eywaite @neteyamsoare

[stealingyourbones]

Submitted Prompts #99

Jazz went to Gotham to finish her degree away from her parents, as their obsession with Ghosts started becoming dangerous to everyone. So, of course, she brought Danny with her, so he's also far away from them and the GIW.

Danny held out a whole year without going out on patrol, just establishing his haunt in the new city. Lady Gotham was very happy to be able to show them to their new place, almost giddy that the little King and his Queen Mother have come to live in her beloved city.

Of course, the first time Phantom floats out of his window and into the night, he has a new suit, made of padded black leather, and a fluffy white cape with a hood (imagine the Lightkin Cloak from Destiny2, but snow white, rather than black and grey), along with a facemask engraved with a fanged design. New haunt, new look, and the new look fit right in with the viciousness of Gotham City.

And, as luck would have it, his first Gotham Rogue was Poison Ivy. Thinking back to his fight against Undergrowth, Pantom opened with his ice, forming a double-sided axe to better cleave her vines apart, and locking Ivy herself down with ice.

To further distance himself from his identity as Phantom, in case the GIW somehow became smart at some point, instead of blasting ice like most ghosts fire ectoblasts, Danny asked Pandora for lessons on fighting with weapons, and Frosbite taught his how to channel his element as an aura, or a freezing breath. He even sat down to listen to Nocturne speak as they wove spells and ectoplasm, and the Personification of Dreams softly taught him how to use his powers through objects acting as catalysts, or as manifestations of his will, rather than throwing his affinities around by brute force.

With his new abilities and look, rather than fight like a feral raccoon, Danny took to fighting more like a spellblade, slinging around ice shard and spells to enhance his physical strikes, controlling the pace of a fight to get the upper hand on his enemies.

Suffice to say, Poison Ivy hadn't expected the Avatar of Icy Vengeance to lock her in a pillar of ice up to her neck while her vines withered into frosty sculptures.

Gotham's newest hero got awarded a new name by the news the next day: Ymir, Frozen Progenitor.

Danny thinks it's too pretentious for a random ghost, or random halfa, like him. Joke's on him, the perception of Gotham's people slowly starts empowering him, slowly enough that the only reason he notices his oncoming Ascension to myth as a Protector Spirit is when a terrified kid begs for his help, and he hears them loud and clear out of nowhere.

The Bats are confused by this Entity. Constantine stepped one foot in Gotham, felt it's cleaner air, the sharp bite of ice in his nose and lungs, and the overwhelming pressure of the new Godling training under Gotham herself to control his new powers, and ran out screaming about not getting paid enough to deal with divine beings. Zatanna is trying to contact Ymir to ask them to join the Justice League Dark.

Jason is vibing with the tall redhead Amazon he's met at Babs' library, and her feral little brother who cured his Pit Rage by biting his arm when they first met. One time Jason is in a pinch after a stakeout gone wrong, Bellona (Ancient Roman Goddess of War) takes the fight to his captors to free him, dressed in golden armor and wielding a spear Pandora and Firght Knight made for her. Nocturne and her brother worked together to imbue a spell into her back to give her wings she can use to fly or fight with. The fact it left a badass tattoo on her back, is just another way Jazz rebels against her parents. It also has Jason weak in the knees when he first sees it.

[vetteltea]

congrats on 500 !!!! you deserve it sooo much 🫰🫰

i know you aren’t really a lando girlie….but since you’re so talented,,,can i request strawberry tea w lando & the napping together prompt ? thank you !!!! 🫶 (and congrats again !! 💞🤧)

☕︎ strawberry tea

LN4 and 'napping together'

He’s home. 

Every triple header you can’t attend gets a little troublesome; the apartment feels lifeless, the walls lackluster of laughter bouncing around. The puzzle the two of you had yet to complete lay dormant on the dining room table; a stark reminder that every meal without your boyfriend was eaten curled up on the modular sofa you’d also been sleeping on, the only comfort being a fluffy blanket, the smell of him already fading. 

The door had clicked, the text messages having faded since he had stepped off the plane, obviously more focused on returning back to you than responding to your questions. You didn’t care, not when you reached the entry foyer and saw him; tired, sore but smiling. His suitcase and travel bag faded into nothingness as a choked sob left your lips, running down the hall in sock feet and leaping at your boyfriend, two strong arms holding you against him, hiding his own head in your neck. 

“I’m home.” He’d whispered between shivers, overwhelmed from feeling your body pressed against his for the first time in over three weeks. Between whispers, in regards to how much they’ve missed one another, he’s pressing kisses against your face, your hands finding and threading through his curls, pleading he wouldn’t disappear without you again, at least not for a week.

Lando is so gentle, he can feel you shivering, probably from the lack of sleep and the realization he’s returned. It takes a few moments, unraveling yourself from one another, letting him link your fingers together, guiding you down the hall and back into the lounge. His heart melts when he sees the blankets cocooned into a makeshift bed like you had done oh-so-often for movie nights. 

“Have you been sleeping out here?” He coaxes, shifting from where you had been standing next to him, clamoring into the modular setup, immediately wiggling out of his shoes and hoodie, leaving him shirtless and oh-so-cozy. Lando didn’t miss the blush that tinted your cheeks, both from his toned chest and heavy question. 

“The bed felt…so empty without you.” The whisper left your lips. You hadn’t slept the first night, reaching out constantly to feel his warmth and shattering each time it hit that he wasn’t there. He’d never admit, but Lando had the exact same problem, having to physically exhaust himself into sleep. It would never come out, he’d never want his sweet girl to worry. Instead, he wordlessly raises his two arms, a signal for you to come and join him in the makeshift bed; he really doesn't have the energy to haul the cushions and blankets back to his actual bedroom.

It takes you less than a moment to react, bundling straight into his arms, both of you soft with giggles and gentle kisses. It’s like fitting a piece back together, your head immediately rests against his sternum, arms encircling you and holding you tighter. He’s warm. Oh, so warm and so comfortable that you can’t help but feel your eyes droop, getting heavier with the sleep debt you had gained. Delirium begins to overtake you both, adamant on napping rather than talking, it happened after years together.

“Do you want dinner?” You’d asked, voice teetering on the edge of sleep, only drawn closer when Lando’s hand reaches out, cupping your cheek and pressing a gentle kiss to the tip of your nose. 

“We’ll order later. Right now I just want you.” He presses a final kiss to your temple, lying back into the blankets and dragging you with him. It’s less than a few minutes before sleep overtakes you both, eyes heavy with only one thought running through you both, that you’re home. 

part of the vetteltea 500 celebration!

[loviingpedri]

one of his girls tonight - hector fort

prompt: he can’t get enough of you.

warnings: cursing, drinking, clubbing, suggestive content, grammar issues, not intense smut (viewer discretion is still advised)

please let me know if more since this is going to be a little explicit.

any italicized texts are lyrics

credits to owners for all images

what else do young adults do in their free time? party, of course.

nothing like a hot saturday night in barcelona when the city was awake as people went out.

“y/n! my sexy girl, let’s go!” going out with your friends at least once a month was a must. meeting new people, kissing strangers, waking up next to someone random.

everything felt like a fever dream. especially that one boy you shared an unforgettable kiss with. last month, you were drunk out of your mind. you met this one guy, he had brown fluffy hair and touched you in the right places. your friends always said you were gonna go home with him and make him yours for the night. until, a random girl walked up to you and slapped you. either you just made out with someone’s boyfriend or someone was a complete control freak over him.

you hoped to see him tonight. some reassurance of what happened last month. and if he’s single, maybe you’ll keep him wrapped around your finger this time.

“alright! i’m ready!” you grabbed your small purse that barely fit anything in it and ran into the uber with the 10 other people in it. “a bit crowded?” you laughed as some people were sitting on each other’s laps.

“anything to save money and not have a designated driver tonight. today’s the day where all hell will break lose.” going out with a group of people was safer, calmer, and more fun.

lately, your life had been hitting every single positive goal in life. you spent your days with the people who brought out the best. little did you know, you would meet the person who would see you inside and out.

getting out the car was a hassle. thanking the driver and running to show your ids to the bouncer. already pre-gamed at your tiny apartment, it was finally time to let loose.

“it’s fucking hot in here.” one of your dearest friends spoke to you as you tried to mingle on the dance floor.

“i just finished my makeup 20 minutes ago and i can feel it melting already.” you fanned yourself to keep composed.

“y/n, that guy keeps staring at you.” looking behind your shoulder. you saw the one and only boy, the one with the best lips you’ve ever felt on yours.

“holy shit. that’s the guy with the crazy girl that slapped me.” you looked at your friend in disbelief. he must’ve went out to the clubs a lot if you continued to see him.

“go up to him. i don’t see her around. ask him what that whole fight was about. take a shot though, you’re gonna need it.” turning around, you could already see his eyes going up and down from behind you. meeting with your friends at the bar and downing shots after shots. finally feeling the alcohol in your system, a new boost of confidence was found.

walking up to him, you spotted different girls surrounding him. as you got closer, he sat up straight and tried to distance himself. sitting down next to him, he sat there frozen.

“hey, aren’t you the guy from a few weekends back?” for a guy who seemed popular around the ladies, he seemed pretty fucking nervous around you.

“yeah i am. sorry about that slap. i don’t know what happened. she’s not my girlfriend by the way. just someone random.” he spoke so fast, fidgeting with his hands. considering you already made out with him, there was no reason for him to be scared.

“you seem very popular. met anyone you like?” he wiped his sweaty palms on his pants. you listened closely to the song in the background as he tried to form an answer.

push me down, hold me down.

spit in my mouth while you turn me on. i wanna take your light inside.

“you. can’t ignore a pretty girl like you.” he began to play into your little game. slowly, you touched his shoulder and sat closer to him in a comfortable position.

“oh yeah? well, this ‘pretty girl’ has to know your name first.”

and i’m screamin’ out. give me tough love.

“my name is hector. yours?”

“i’m y/n. you have a little something on your neck.” spotting a red kiss-mark on his neck, obviously not from you, you smudged it off.

we don’t gotta be in love no. i don’t gotta be the one, no.

i just wanna be one of your girls tonight.

“wishing it was your lipstick?” he give a little grin, trying to rile you up. you looked at him, his way of words trying to get into your pants was working.

“i don’t need to wish.” within seconds, your lips happened to be on hector’s. your legs straddling him while he rubbed your thighs.

he knows how to get the best out of me.

his hands were grabbing your waist as you felt the material of his pants under you. he continued rubbing your thighs, but he slowly made it up to your ass. as you gasped for air, he decided it was a good time to slip in his tongue.

finally breaking the kiss, you hear him whimper for more even over the loud music. smiling at him, you made your way to his neck and jaw. you planted a few kisses here and there, then you could feel his hand start to go under your dress.

“not here, but i know a few places.” making eye contact, you already knew where this was going.

hector wanted to you to be his girl every night.

————————————————

author’s note: author gone wild. imagination got the best of me and i know this is not likely of my stories. let me know if i did good for these kind of storylines!

[sanguineterrain]

Mark Grayson x reader where reader is smitten as hell and just loves giving him a kiss wherever on his face when they get a chance to bc that boy deserves it and deserves nice things- < / 3

short but sweet! this was a lovely prompt - he IS the goodest boy and he DOES deserve nice things. need to chew him like a dog toy, frankly.

mark grayson x gn!reader. fluff, established relationship, physical affection, mark getting loved on the way god intended!!!!!

****

Out of the corner of your eye, you see blue and yellow. Your window latch creaks, and you stand.

The sound illicits a Pavlovian response in you. Ever since you and Mark started dating, he's taken to landing on your roof and climbing through your window instead of going through the hassle of using the door. And as soon as you hear the latch, you're up, body already thrumming with anticipation at seeing your boyfriend.

Sure enough, Mark's crouched outside your window, purposely being slow in his movements so as not to startle you. He pushes your window open.

His hair is fluffy from the wind. He pulls his goggles up over his hair, making it stick up at odd angles. The sight overwhelms you, and you can't wait past him climbing inside.

You're on him as soon as Mark steps inside, cutting off his "hey, baby" with a solid kiss.

"Mmph!" he exclaims as you grab his face and first kiss his mouth, putting your all into it.

His hands land on your waist after several dazed seconds, and he's pliant as you wrap your arms around him and scratch the baby hairs at the nape of his neck.

You pull back for a hot second, just long enough to see how Mark's eyes have glazed over. He often gets like that when you pet and touch him. You suspect it's because he's not used to it, all this physical affection.

You immediately go back in with more kisses, peppering them all over his face. Mark lets you back him against the wall, and you kiss his cheeks, his eyelids, his chin, and his forehead.

"Wha'... what's this for?" he asks after a minute, puppy-eyed as you lavish him with attention.

"'Cause I wanna love on you," you say. "Missed you."

"I was only gone a day."

You hug him hard because you can, because he can take it. Mark squeezes you back gently, practically glowing from the affection.

"Just get really happy when I see you," you say, unable to fit your elation into words. 'Happy' is an understatement of what you're feeling. But Mark seems to understand.

He laughs quietly. "I really missed you too. You're always so sweet to me."

"Because you deserve sweetness," you say, and kiss him on the lips again. "You get all the sweetness in the world, Mark."

He swallows, opening and closing his mouth like you've overwhelmed him. You nip at his jawbone to let him know that it's okay. That he doesn't have to muster up a reply.

"Can we, uh..." Mark clears his throat. "Can we just... cuddle for a while? Is that okay?"

You beam. "Of course it is. I'll always curl up with you, babylove."

The name makes Mark shy. He chews the inside of his cheek and smiles, looking at you.

"'Kay. Be right back."

You get comfortable in bed as Mark takes the sweats he left in your drawer last night and changes, taking less than five seconds to do so. He crawls into bed, limbs heavy with exhaustion and your onslaught of affection.

You lie there and let Mark pick a position. He settles on throwing a leg over you and hugging you with his whole body, head tucked under your chin. You turn into him, hand returning to scratch his scalp.

"Thank you for loving on me. And taking care of me," he says, breathing evening out.

"No thanks necessary," you say, kissing his hair. "'S what I'm here for."