#this is just so fun and fluffy and comforting

[deathbxnny]

Haiiii Can we get like a oneshot of Vi x f!drunk reader? Maybe where reader is like rlly flirty and horny when drunk and wants to have fun with Vi but obviously Vi doesn’t do anything and just tries to take care of her?

Vi taking care of drunk fem!Reader.

This was written by someone who has never touched alcohol, so I hope it's not too bad-

Content: alcohol, reader is drunk as hell, established relationship, SFW

Reader is asked to be afab and uses she/her pronouns!

((Not proofread))

"Damnit... you drank way too much this time around, cupcake..." Vi sighed out with a shake of her head as she hauled you into your shared home after a long night out in Zaun's busy bars. You were just giggling to yourself at her words, finding them silly and untrue, of course. You weren't drunk at all! Far from it, actually. Never mind your inability to see clearly or walk straight for that matter.

"I'm... not drunk! I uh... yeah." Your girlfriend rolled her eyes at your oh-so-convincing argument whilst she made you sit on the couch in your living room. Trying to just get you to bed as fast as possible, she kneeled down infront of you to take your shoes off, eyes focused on her task at hand and yet you were far from interested in resting now. No, you had plans.

Plans that involved her.

"Hey... what are ya' doin'?" You asked, not even trying to pronounce your words properly anymore. Your hands came up to play with her short pink hair before they slid down to cup her face. Glancing up at you, she raised a slight brow. She knew that look in your eyes. But not tonight, she thought. Not when you're literally unable to even sit up right. "Getting you ready for bed." "Oooh... I love the sound of that!" Deadpanning, she fought the urge to sigh in disappointment. Typical. And usually, she'd indulge in your wishes, but again, not like this.

"Nope, not like that. Now come on, let's get ya to bed, pretty." She said, quick to pick you up with scary ease that made your heart flutter and giggle in excitement. Yet that all slipped away when you processed her clear rejection. "Whattttt?? But the bed is right thereee." "Sure is, princess." It was honestly really amusing to see you so needy for her. And whilst she was stressing a bit, it definitely made for good material to tease you with later.

Carefully laying you down onto the bed, she couldn't help but chuckle at the way you began melting into the mattress involuntarily. "Ya look reallyyy good tonight, Vi-" "-Thanks. Drink this water for me, please." She hummed, skillfully distracting you as though she had been through this a million times before. She gave you no chance to argue back either, with the way she simply made you drink a whole glass of water whilst making sure the bed was fluffy and comfortable enough for you to be in.

All you could do was pout and give her a defeated glare that made her smile. "Sorry, but that's just how things are gonna be tonight, alright? Besides, I bet you're really tired." And you absolutely were, much to your dismay. Vi on the other hand, knew that you were going to get a deadly headache once you woke up and went ahead to place some painkillers and a bucket, just in case, at your bedside table. She needed to prepare everything for your approaching doom the best she could, after all.

Her attention was averted back to you when she noticed you having fallen asleep whilst she was taking care of you. A gentle smile rested on her face, your image mirroring in Vi's eyes lovingly as she admired your form. "Well... that was fast. So much for not being drunk, ey?" But she didn't mind it. After getting ready herself, she pulled you into a tight embrace and fell asleep as well, glad to have you safe and sound with her.

And even if you were unfortunately rejected tonight... there is always tomorrow.

[faithshouseofchaos]

franco x reader 'shy' please!

.

Shy — Franco colapinto x reader

Word count — 1500

Fluffy

Tagged — @crispysoup318 @meeel-things @bieberismysoulmate e @dejavuontrack @barcelonaloverf1life @nominsgirl @bluebluesol @chenlesbitxh @ironmaiden1313 @chunkpiboli @kr7-i-know-what-im-doing @alex-wotton

You’d never been a fan of big crowds, which is why you loved the quiet moments in the paddock, far from the chaos of the racetrack. As a member of the team, you often found yourself in the background, keeping things running smoothly behind the scenes. It was exactly where you preferred to be—hidden in plain sight, unnoticed.

But lately, there has been one person who has made it impossible for you to stay in the background.

Franco Colapinto.

The young, charismatic driver was known for his sharp focus on the track, but also for his undeniable charm off it. And lately, he'd taken a special interest in you.

It started innocently enough. A casual smile here, a playful comment there. But today, things were different. You were organizing equipment near the garage when you felt a familiar presence behind you.

“You know," Franco’s voice floated into your ear, too close for comfort, "I’ve been thinking… you really should take a break today."

You froze. You hadn’t even heard him approach, and now his breath was warm against the back of your neck. You turned slightly, peeking over your shoulder. His mischievous grin sent a wave of heat to your cheeks.

“I’m fine,” you muttered, immediately looking back down at your task, desperately trying to ignore the way his eyes never seemed to leave you.

Franco chuckled softly, stepping closer until he was standing just in front of you, blocking your view of the tools you were organizing. His gaze was intense, but there was a softness to it, almost like he was daring you to meet him halfway.

“Always so shy,” he teased, his voice low and smooth. “I love it. But you know... I think you should take a break. Maybe I can take you for a walk? Show you around the track? Or…” He leaned in just a little closer, his breath warm against your ear, “…maybe show you what it feels like to be in a race car.”

Your heart skipped a beat. You were pretty sure the moment his lips brushed near your ear, your knees might give out.

"Franco," you stammered, trying to keep your composure, but the way his eyes twinkled only made you feel more flustered. “I’m… busy.”

“Come on,” he pressed, a bit more persistent, his tone dripping with playful flirtation. “I’ve seen you working so hard lately. You deserve a little fun. What’s a few minutes for me to show you just how much you’re missing out?”

You couldn’t stop yourself from laughing nervously, still unable to look him in the eye for more than a second. You had heard stories from other crew members about his playful nature, how he'd been known to flirt relentlessly with anyone he found intriguing. But you never thought you’d be the one he’d focus on.

“I’m not…” you began, but the words felt stuck in your throat as he reached for your hand with a grin so wide it could rival the sun.

“I know,” he interrupted softly. “You’re not used to this. But trust me, I’m down bad for you, and if you just give me a chance, you might feel the same.”

Your breath hitched in your chest. “You��re…” you began, but couldn’t finish. It was too much to process. He was, in fact, down bad. For you. And for a split second, you almost believed him.

“I am,” he confirmed, winking. “And I think you might like it.”

You hesitated for a moment, the sound of Franco’s voice making it hard to concentrate. You were so used to staying in the background, hiding in plain sight, that the idea of someone as confident and charismatic as Franco Colapinto focusing so much attention on you felt… surreal.

“I’m not sure this is a good idea,” you mumbled, pulling your hand back slightly, but not enough to break free of his gentle grasp. You could feel the heat of his fingers against your skin.

Franco’s grin didn’t falter. If anything, it grew more mischievous. “Why not? You’ve got me all to yourself right now.” He took a small step closer, the tip of his boot just brushing against yours. “And I can’t think of anything better than spending a little one-on-one time with someone who makes my heart race faster than my car ever could.”

You swallowed. Did he just say that? Heart racing? It was hard to tell if he was being serious or if it was just another playful line. But there was a genuine sincerity in his eyes that made you question everything you thought you knew.

“Franco,” you said again, voice a little softer this time. “I… I don’t know what you want from me.”

“I’m being pretty clear, aren’t I?” His smile faltered for just a second, and you noticed how his expression softened as he took a slow, deliberate step back. “Look, I know you’re shy. But I’m also down bad for you, and I can’t help it. Every time I see you, I can’t stop thinking about what it’d be like if you gave me a chance.”

Your breath caught at the way his voice dropped a little, as if the teasing was gone, replaced by something real. Something vulnerable.

It was a lot to process. You’d spent so long hiding away, focusing on your work and avoiding attention, but the way Franco was looking at you now made it hard to ignore him. He wasn’t backing down.

“Maybe... maybe I don’t know what I want either,” you muttered, more to yourself than to him. You finally dared to look him in the eye, and it felt like a challenge—one that made your heart beat louder than the roaring engines outside.

Franco tilted his head slightly, his eyes lighting up. “Well, that’s progress. We can start there. But just know…” His voice dropped even lower, teasing, yet sincere, “I’m not going anywhere. Sooner or later, you’ll give in.”

You felt the butterflies in your stomach flutter uncontrollably, but before you could respond, a voice called out from across the paddock, pulling you both out of the moment.

“Franco, we’re up in ten! Get your gear on!”

He groaned in mock frustration, casting a glance back at you before taking a step toward the garage. “Duty calls,” he said, his eyes lingering on you. “But don’t think this is over.”

You watched him walk away, still a little stunned by the exchange. Your heart was still racing—partly from the conversation, and partly from the fact that for a moment, you weren’t invisible. You were the one he wanted to be with.

The sun was starting to set, casting a warm golden hue over the racetrack as you made your way to the team’s pit area, finishing up some last-minute details before the evening’s festivities. Your thoughts kept drifting back to Franco. His words. His eyes. His teasing smile. It was like your world had been turned upside down in the span of just a few minutes.

You didn’t hear him approach until you felt a hand gently settle on your shoulder.

"Hey there," Franco’s voice came from behind you, his tone lighter now but still teasing. "You busy?"

You jumped slightly, turning to face him. He was dressed in his racing gear now, looking every bit the professional, but with the same playful glint in his eyes. “Not really. Just finishing up some stuff.”

Franco raised an eyebrow. “You know, I was thinking about what you said earlier. About not knowing what you want. And I get it. But I’ve got an idea—why don’t we head out after the race? I know this great place for dinner. Just you and me. No distractions. Just... figuring this out.”

The offer felt like a punch to your gut, but in a good way. You wanted to say no, to retreat back to your comfort zone. But something in you—something you’d never quite recognized before—was itching to say yes.

Before you could respond, he added, “I’m not gonna let you get away this time, you know. I’ll keep asking until you say yes.”

You found yourself laughing despite yourself, the tension easing just a little. “You’re persistent,” you said, taking a deep breath.

He shrugged, a grin forming on his lips. “When you’re this into someone? Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

For a moment, it felt like you were the only two people in the world. You looked at him—really looked at him—and for the first time, you realized he wasn’t just some flirtatious driver. He was serious. He liked you. And maybe, just maybe, you liked him back.

Finally, you took a leap. “Alright,” you said, heart pounding. “Dinner sounds good.”

Franco’s eyes lit up. “Yes! I knew you’d come around.” He stepped closer, as if he couldn’t help himself, and before you could even process it, his lips brushed against your forehead in a sweet, unexpected kiss. "I'll make it worth your while, I promise."

[waiting-for-motivation]

dark red

summary: No matter what, Max loves and supports his girlfriend like a golden retriever would love a black cat.

pairing: Max Verstappen x Goth!Reader

warnings: the sweetest and purest fluff

words: 1022

a/n: daniel will always be part of my formula one fics :) also big thank you to my lovely muse @graveyardcannibal <33

MASTERLIST REQUEST RULES

The thing Max enjoys the most is staring at his beautiful girlfriend. No matter the time of the day, the light always seems to hit her at just the right angle. She could wear a trash bag and still look gorgeous in his eyes. Max really fell head over heels for her.

So it does not surprise (Y/n) at all to see his reflection in the mirror in front of her. He watches her precisely draw her eyeliner. Concentrating on the black lines is hard, when his blue eyes notice even her smallest movement.

“Get a hobby, creep“, she comments with a sarcastic undertone, still looking over her shoulder with a smile on her lips. While Max is already dressed, she still has to finish her make-up and put on the outfit, her boyfriend helped her pick out. Sometimes (Y/n) feels bad for him, keeping him waiting for her, but then she remembers how much he likes to gaze at her.

Max can only laugh at her words, leaning forward to take a closer look at all the brushes, powders and pencils. Although he watches his girl use them on a regular basis he has no clue what they are specifically for. Though one he knows: her dark red lipstick, which she is reaching for right now.

“No, wait before you put that on“, Max almost screams, caught off guard by his own forwardness. With a confused expression, (Y/n) turns towards her boyfriend, the lipstick in her right hand. The moment she opens her mouth to ask what has gotten into him, Max presses his lips to hers. This is explanation enough.

“You smooth bastard!“, (Y/n) exclaims after they part, keeping the intense eye contact with Max. He shows her a cheeky smile, then nods towards the mirror, encouraging her to finish her make-up. The lipstick is the final part. Max watches in awe as (Y/n) places a napkin between her lips to matten the dark color.

Then she turns towards her outfit that lies on the neatly made bed, right next to her boyfriend. (Y/n) gets dressed, so focused she does not notice Max standing up and cleaning up her make-up tools.

“You don‘t have to do that“, she murmurs as she turns around and catches Max inspecting her brushes. Shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly, Max zips up her full cosmetic bag. He simply loves doing everything in his power for her, from smaller tasks to presenting her yet another corset.

"Need any help, schatje?", Max asks, setting the bag aside and reaching for his girl who is struggling to lace up her newest corset. With a huff, (Y/n) turns her back to him so that he can easily tighten the corset, careful not to strangulate her. After tying a bow, Max wraps his arms around his girl and starts kissing a trail from her ear to the collar of her shirt. One of her hands wanders to his fluffy golden hair.

"Don't start what you can't finish, Verstappen", (Y/n) warns her boyfriend, reminding him of today’s qualifying race and the job he has to do. At least, she will be with him on the paddock. For her, it will be the first time there, so she is rather excited and a bit anxious.

Together they leave their hotel room and drive to the racetrack. Again and again, Max throws a glance towards his girl on the passenger seat, actually so often that (Y/n) has to remind him to keep his eyes on the street. They quickly arrive and manage to get into the Red Bull garage without much attention from cameras or reporters.

"Remember you can always go into my driver room if it gets too much. I will find you as soon as possible afterward. Have some fun, schatje", Max tells (Y/n) with a concerned expression, even more nervous about her first day on the paddock than her. Her smile comfort his nerves, the sweet kiss following tells him she will be fine. Then he leaves to do some media stuff with his teammate.

Although the last few days, all (Y/n) could overthink about where the worst scenarios that could happen, the next few hours without Max are rather pleasant. Knowing a few of the drivers already because Max invited them to his home in Monaco, she has no problem in finding someone to talk to. Daniel is very delighted to see her, pulling her into a warm hug and forcing her to do a twirl for him, showing off her black outfit. She even meets some other girlfriends, which mostly compliment her on her make-up.

Before the qualifying race starts, someone from Red Bull escorts her back to the garage, claiming Max wants to see her before the start. There is a whole crowd of mechanics and strategists around him, so (Y/n) waits till he notices her, meanwhile touching up her lipstick.

Max is already sitting in his car, when he waves (Y/n) over with a bright smile. Someone presses his helmet into her hands which she gives to her boyfriend the moment she arrives at his car. He keeps it in his laps, gazing at the gorgeous girl above him. (Y/n) leans onto the car carefully, not wanting to cause a scratch or worse.

“There you are, schatje, wish me luck“, Max murmurs. His blue eyes glisten from not daring to blink. The giggle coming from (Y/n) causes his heart to flutter like a million butterflies. He smiles dreamily.

“Good luck, Maxie“, (Y/n) whispers as she presses a kiss to his cheek, aware of the cameras on them. Taking a step back and watching her boyfriend hide his handsome face under a balaclava and finally his helmet, she catches a glimpse of a red lipstick mark on his skin. She can only smile at this little incident.

Of course, the next day there are a lot of pictures circulating on the internet. Everyone can see the admiration in Max Verstappen‘s eyes as well as the red mark on his cheek, he wears like a medal of honor. He simply loves his girl with every fiber of his being.

[persicipen]

₊ ˙ ⊹ . 𝓖𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝓑𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒉𝒅𝒂𝒚 𝓑𝒐𝒚. WRIOTHESLEY ₊ ˙ ⊹ .

ৎ୭ — · · 1.4k ノ gn reader — sweet intimate celebration of his birthday. subtle flirting (a failed attempt at doing so). established relationship. comforting fluff with hugs and giggles <3

The atmosphere in the Duke’s office is rather light-hearted and joyful, unlike the usual stern reputation of the Fortress. The steady hum of machinery beyond the thick walls buzzes along with the quiet crackle of a small, ornate heater placed in the corner — a luxury in the underwater prison.

The tea table is neatly set, the gleaming silver teapot releasing curling wisps of steam into the air, mingling with the earthy, spiced aroma of Chenyu Adeptea — a new blend being a part of your gift. Though muted in tone, you two celebrate this day with the gentle clink of porcelain teacups and muffled laughter. The sharp tang of the sea breeze and metallic rust replaced with a delicate sweetness that hints at the rare delight.

“Mittens, huh?”

It’s the low timbre of Wriothesley’s voice that breaks temporary silence, testing out the lovely other part of your gift, fingers examining the texture. He takes his time making sure they fit snugly, the pair of fine-woven mittens. Albeit he couldn’t care less about how they look.

“Well, it’s cold here in the Fortress, and the humidity makes it unbearable sometimes…”

“I will make great punches in these.” He says with a note of chuckle at the end, all while testing his grip in the fluffy covers on his hands. “Look at them, my new gloves to punish lawbreakers!”

The very image of Wriothesley imitating boxing punches with the fists wrapped in the softest of fabrics makes you giggle loud. Loud and clear, a sound he adores so much when it reverberates from the stone walls and metal pipes like delicate chimes in the wind. The sound he misses every single minute when you have to return above the sea waves.

His place has never felt this warm before, with the candles flickering on the curved desk, the tea table heavy from the gifts from the staff, and — last but not least — his heart is about to melt, a glowing cauldron of fondness for you. You are simply there, smiling back at him, raising the teacup in a silent toast for his birthday.

For someone who took this post in selfless service to the people and their safety, the fact that they all care so much — but none as much as you — makes him want to serve them twice as much. Maybe working in the Fortress, in this new home of his, isn’t that bad after all. No, not in the slightest. No worse than if he were to restart his entire life on the surface, in the society he doesn’t remember from his early years.

“Do you like them?”

You seem to notice the pause, the thoughtful gaze he shoots at the pair of mittens on his knuckles.

“A lot.” He responds softly, rubbing his thumb against the soft fabric. “They will serve me well.”

Butterflies dance in your stomach with each passing moment of admiring the way his hands seem so much more gentle than they appear to be, the touch not as hard and coarse as he puts it across. Though there is a hint of sadness, a lingering melancholy at the thought of how the roughness of his fingertips was created, the callouses on his palms a result of years and years of fighting.

“I’m happy you like them.” You say, leaning forward. “I was worried it wouldn’t be enough.”

“Enough?!” Wriothesley raises an eyebrow under the tuft of his cobalt bangs, perplexed. “Never in a thousand years could I ever deserve what you give me!” He holds his mitten-wrapped hands up just to make a point. “These? These are cute! I have never received fluffy gloves from anyone before. Not even once. This is so fun! You are the sweetest for coming up with this idea!”

The tenderness of his voice, almost desperate to show how much it all means to him — it’s silly, hilarious even that a small gift can make such a difference — the fondness pouring from his eyes, like he’s pouring liquid honey over your soul. You find yourself moving closer, drawn to him, craving his closeness. Craving to wrap your arms around his waist and find the steady thumping of his heart amidst all other background noises.

“Should we get you a pair for every winter month, then?” You joke, shyly leaning against him, carefully observing his reaction. “Who would’ve thought that the Duke of Meropide is such a sweetheart, hm? A good boy under those scary looks, all giddy over a colourful yarn.”

Wriothesley doesn’t answer at first, fighting off a boisterous laugh. His mind is racing in several different directions, struggling to form coherent thoughts under your touch. He sighs, gently enveloping you into his embrace and letting himself indulge in this feeling just for a little while longer. It is not enough to have these small moments when you visit him here, but he gladly accepts anything you offer him, secretly hoping there’s a chance you will stay with him longer this time.

Anything, a glimmer of hope.

And now you are saying all these sweet things…

“Why would you want to get me more when I can have you wrapped in my arms every winter?” He asks in the same tone you used earlier, with a barely audible chuckle at the end of the sentence. “You’re much warmer, you know.”

“Ah, you and your flirting out of nowhere! Just when I’m least prepared.” You shake your head, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips to shake off the fire running to your face at his comment.

“Are you embarrassed now?” He smiles softly, his eyes glinting mischievously in the candlelight.

“No!” You pout, unwilling to admit how you do melt a little under his gaze. “I can flirt back too, if you wish.”

“Please.” He begs, chuckling as he says that. “Entertain me with your wits.”

He seems amused by this idea. Not in a teasing way, but rather playful, genuinely interested in what you are about to say. And so you give it a try, breathing in slowly to think of something… well, witty. Or at least funny enough to make him smile.

Obviously, as if asked to show your skills on request, your head is empty. This is embarrassing, not funny at all. But you cannot let him see that, trying to appear cool and nonchalant about it.

“Well, perhaps you’re right—” you begin, “you may have those fluffy mittens on your hands, but you will still need someone to warm up your heart.”

“I think I may be infected with a cold by now,” he replies, barely holding it together as he leans in for a bear hug, the entire lump of his large self covering you in hearty embrace. “I might need some extra cuddles.”

You squirm in his hold, pretending to struggle as if your plan is to run away — yet he knows well enough that it’s a playful ruse to get more affection out of him. He snuggles against your cheek, gently rubbing his nose against your skin. There is so much he wants to say, so many things that swirl in his head, and yet no words are uttered. He feels content to enjoy this moment with you.

No interruptions, no reminders that you have to return to the surface soon.

When Wriothesley lets go of you, his eyes fixate on the lines of your face, and your lips curl into a warm smile. His hands cup your cheeks gently, not wanting to ever let go. Your skin is soft under his touch, warm against the wool of the fluffy mittens. He traces the curves of your face with the gentleness of someone who is seeing you for the first time, every minute detail captured and studied. Every subtle feature — the glint in your eyes, the slight twitch of your mouth as you bite back a grin — he’s committing it all to memory.

“You are so beautiful,” he breathes out, his words hanging in the air between you like a thin thread of golden light. “I—”

“I love you more.” You interrupt him, stealing the kiss that was on the tip of his tongue, along with the confession.

Wriothesley lets out a pleased sound, almost like a low purr. The soft blush creeping onto his cheeks makes his face seem softer, somehow less threatening. The Duke of Meropide no longer towers over you like a mountain, but he is the most tender of the men. And you couldn’t have fallen in love with anyone else.

No, only with him.

“Happy birthday, Wriothesley.”

[majoryeager104]

LovEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeee ur writing AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

could i request cuddling hcs for Shigaraki or Keigo?

eeeee ok don’t mind if I do I love writing these sm 👌😭 ill do a lil section for both of em cos I got time to kill

Tomura Shigaraki

He’s definitely terrified the first time you ask for cuddles

“What if I disintegrate you?” Was definitely his first response

He was reluctant as heck

The most important person in his life dying by his hands?

NO. 

He’d definitely argue 

And dramatically gasp when you shrug off his concerns

“Just wear your gloves-“ “WHAT IF THEY FALL OFF AND YOU DIE”

He’s so concerned 😭😭

But when you finally convince him

And he settles in to cuddle

He’s got his gloves on tight

And he’s like barely touching you

He’s all tense too

He aint risking anything

But slowly

As time goes by and he gets more comfortable doing it

He adores cuddles

He’ll totally fight tooth and nail to make sure he gets to cuddle with you

Or else atp he probably won’t sleep

And don’t try to sneak off during the night

He doesn’t care if you need to use the bathroom

He’s offended

“Do I smell bad or something”

“No I just needed to use the bathroom”

“Do you not love me anymore”

With the biggest pout 

But when he needs to use the bathroom

He throws you off of him like a ragdoll

Smh

But then he gets snacks from the kitchen on the way back

And gives you a kiss on the forehead 

And all is forgiven 😌

Keigo Takami

This man is the KING of cuddles

Touya, Tomura and Spinner in my hc’s were all reluctant as heck

NOT KEIGO. 

He’s already in

Zipping under the covers with you before you could say anything

He probably initiated the first time you cuddled

Like “babe babe babe babe babe BABE-“ “WHAT” “cuddles ☝️🥹”

But honestly he’s such a good cuddle buddy

Wraps the both of you up in his wings

Who needs blankets when you got them FEATHERS 😭

And he’s so proud like “you like my feathers? Thanks I like to keep em soft you know” 

Tells you the shampoo conditioners and other products he uses

And it’s a lot. 

Ofc. 

But dayum is it worth it

Especially when he’s laying on top of you with his head on your stomach

Bc he doesn’t like laying on his back bc his wings get in the way

And he’s rubbing your sides and leaning up every so often to shower you with kisses

Bc ur just so fine 🫵😌

And he tells you that REPEATEDLY every time you cuddle

Bc he adores cuddles 

And adores you even more

Sometimes he’ll just use cuddles as an excuse to just love on you

But sadly he probably doesn’t get a lot of time to cuddle 

Being the number 2 hero and all

“Fastest man alive” 😭😭😭 slay ig

But when he does have time for cuddles

He’s like the best cuddle buddy EVER. 

OMG ITS SO FLUFFY IM GONNA DIE ANYWAYS ENJOY IT WAS SO FUN TO WRITE HEHE

[heartowan]

★ WINTER VISITOR : red hood x reader!

( cuss words ) ──────────────── ★

* im not from america so i have absolutely nooo idea how much is -20°c in fahrenheit im sorry 😭 *

You used to enjoy winter so much more when you were a kid. The snow, the warm clothes, the atmosphere, your mom's hot chocolate... everything was so perfect back then. Now, though, you didn't like it as much.

Not because you grew up to be an insufferable grump, but things weren't as easy. At 9, you didn't have to walk on snowy streets from campus to work to your house in a -20°C weather. Freezing your ass used to be fun when it was voluntary.

But, fortunately, the holidays were already coming, so you wouldn't have any more classes during these few weeks, and you'd also get a few breaks from your job at the bookstore. Finally, some rest.

That's what you thought when you approached your porch, pulling out the keys to open the door in a practiced movement, but you stopped when your eyes caught a glimpse of something red. Then you walked a little closer, and you were able to make out the shape of someone sitting down with their legs stretched, hand cluching their side, a weird helmet on their head and a little cropped brown jacket... what a weird combination.

You knew that helmet, though. You lived in his area, after all.

"Can I help you?" Anyone, literally, anyone, would advise you to not speak to him and simply go find some place else to crash for the night until he went away. The thing is, you wouldn't listen anyway.

He raised his head in your direction, the white eyes of that creepy/fucking weird helmet staring at you, sizing you up and probably judging the fact that you were wearing green tights and red shoes. But, hey, who even was he to judge your style choices?

"Actually, yeah." He said, and even with the modulator distorting his voice, you could hear the hoarsness and the faint tireness. "I'm fucked up over here, I'm not sure I can walk anymore."

You furrowed your eyebrows at that and reached for the phone in your pocket. Carefully, you crouched down beside him and turned on the torch to be able to see his wound better. "Let me see." You said, urging him to take his hand away.

He revealed the wound to you, and God, it was nasty. A bloody and very bumpy gash started from the left side of his abdomen to a little bit before the height of his shoulder blade. Absolutely disgusting. Whoever did that was probably trying to split him in half.

"Oh, my God." You mumbled, your eyes widened at the sight.

"Yeah." He added, nodding his head in understanding to your shock. "Can you at least let me in to... I don't know? Clean it up? It just starts bleeding more if I walk, and I don't wanna get an infection."

What kind of stupid fucking little dumbo would let a stranger dressed like that into their house, especially in Gotham?

"Yeah, come on in." You said, your eyebrows furrowing even more at your own brainlessness. They were almost knitted together like a unibrow.

★...

He sat down on your couch like his body weighted tons, and you noticed how his wound did an odd ripple movement. It just got weirder.

"I have a first aid kit in my bathroom." You said, stripping off your coat and your jacket. "I'll go get it. Do you need anything else?" He just shook his head, and you quickly disappeared into the little hallway.

Red Hood used this moment to look around your house, trying to distract himself from the pain and dizziness. He took in how your walls weren't white, but some kind of eggshell color and there was a green wall too, that one covered in framed paintings, pictures and many posters, as well as some hanging plants.

There were just so many plants. Your couch was more comfortable than his bad, and you had a fluffy mat at the center of the living room, between the couch and your bookshelves, which were full of books he could barely recognize in the dim light.

Oh, yes, the lamps. You had little lamps everywhere and one big lamp beside the couch, but they were all warm and barely even illuminated a thing. They made the room very cozy, though.It was so homey, and it looked like you. If he saw you randomly on the street and for some reason he decided to guess what your house looked like from the inside, that would be it. Maybe not as many lamps, but still.

"Okay, I'm back." You walked out of the little hall in hurried steps, a little red box in your hands. You kneeled close to him on the couch. "Fuck, the lights." You mumbled, and he though your annoyed tone was funny, so he smiled a little under his helmet.

After switching on the big, white light, you kneeled again and gently moved the ripped fabric of his shirt away from the cut. He was staining your couch with blood, but you decided not to care at that moment. With some gauze and saline solution, you cleaned the whole thing up, the sides, and what you could reach of the insides, then, you sprayed some antiseptic on it.

"This is disgusting, but I don't think you'll need stitches." You murmured, not looking at him. Your eyes were focused on the wound. "At least not on the whole thing."

"I can manage." It was all he said.

"I'm gonna patch it up so it isn't exposed." He simply nodded at that, and you started covering the extension of the gash with the little pieces of gauze you had, and then, you secured them with some adhesive tape. "All done."

He stayed there for at least forty minutes, and you noticed how he seemed to have fallen asleep at some point. Maybe he was too tired. You didn't care, but you let him rest anyway.

When he woke up from his nap, you had changed outfits into something more comfortable than the jeans you wore before. A pair of gray sweatpants and a very soft brown hoodie on top of your black Iron Man t-shirt.

"You want some tea?" You offered, looking down at him as he seemed to access the situation — probably forgot what the hell had happened for a second.

"Yeah... yeah. What is it?" He mumbled, his distorted voice sounding groggy. You smiled faintly at that.

"It's peach and ginger." You said. "I like it."

You poured a small amount of it in a little mug you had. It was one of your favorites, with little leaves painted all over it.

"I put honey on it, tastes better." You handed him the mug. And then it hit you... how the hell was he gonna drink the tea with that weird ass helmet on? "How do you- oh."

He shut you up when he removed the helmet after one little click at the back of it.

"You wear a mask under your helmet?" You arched one eyebrow, and he chuckled at your reaction.

"It's for the effect." He said and took a sip of the tea. "Very sweet."

You took a moment to look at the exposed parts of his face. He had a few scars all over it, a sharp jaw and slightly plumpy lips, which were rosy from drinking the tea. He also had flushed cheeks, probably from the cold and a seemingly straight nose. You couldn't really tell the shape from that distance.

"Thanks for taking care of that... and for te tea. And for letting me nap on your couch." He said, looking up at you.

His voice sounded so melodic now without the modulator. It was just slightly raspy, not absurdly deep, but not even a little bit high, and just so much more easy on the ears than you'd ever expect Red Hood's voice to be.

"You're leaving?" You asked in a slightly exasperated tone that surprised both of you and put your own mug down. "You sure you're gonna be alright?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine. Don't worry." He shook his head, waving his hand as if to say it wasn't a big deal. You just shrugged at that.

He put his mug down, it was almost empty. So he liked the tea. With his helmet in hand and walking a little more stable than before, he offered you a small smile before stepping over to your door.

"Bye." He murmured. "Thanks again."

You stood there after he left, in your living room, with the big light on, staring at the door. What an unusual night. Your eyes drifted back to the blood stain on your couch, and you groaned internally at the fact that you were the one that was gonna have to clean that.

That only reinforced your belief that vigilantes only brought more and more trouble.

☆

[tokkiwrites]

could you do Javier Pena x f!reader

you two having lots of fun, then aftercare. Javier was sleeping beside you, you woke up slowly that you need some air as you walk through outside and sit in the bench. You were thinking about your mother. As you look up at the sky. You wish your mother was there with you. Few minutes later, you just go back and see Javier was sitting up to turn around to look for you. you couldn’t help it. Just don’t say nothing to Javier. He’ll understand and comfort you *fluffiness*

(hope you will write it, thanks and have a good day)

thank you for this great request, anon! • reqs

javier pena x f!reader, loss of a parent, established relationship.

It was still early morning when you slowly woke up, your body warm and relaxed from the night before. Javier, still asleep, was beside you, his arm draped across your waist. The room was quiet, save for the gentle rhythm of his breathing. You smiled faintly, your heart full of a soft affection for him. But as the sun began to filter in through the window, something shifted in you, a longing for someone else.

You quietly slipped out of bed, careful not to disturb him, and made your way outside. The cool air hit your face as you walked to the bench, taking a seat and letting your legs stretch out. You stared up at the sky, the soft pastel colors of dawn painting the clouds. Your thoughts wandered to your mother. You wished, with every part of you, that she were here with you now—holding your hand, offering her comfort like she used to when things were hard.

For a moment, you let the weight of that absence settle in your chest. You didn’t want to cry—not now, not when everything around you felt so peaceful. But the emptiness was there, quiet and undeniable.

Time passed slowly as you sat there, the world around you waking up. A soft breeze rustled the leaves, and you closed your eyes, taking a deep breath in, trying to center yourself. You thought about Javier—about the way he made you feel so safe, so loved. You smiled through the small ache in your heart, knowing that he would be there when you went back inside.

You stood up from the bench, stretched, and made your way back to the cabin. As you walked through the door, you saw Javier sitting up on the bed, his gaze searching the room for you. His eyes softened when he caught sight of you, his lips curving into a warm smile.

"Hermosa," he murmured, his voice husky with sleep. "There you are."

You didn’t say anything at first. Instead, you moved to him, and he opened his arms, a silent invitation. You crawled into his embrace, and he immediately pulled you close, cradling you against his chest. The comfort of his warmth surrounded you, and the steady beat of his heart was a grounding presence.

You let out a soft sigh, resting your head on his shoulder. You didn’t have to say anything; he understood. Javier’s hands gently ran through your hair, his touch slow and soothing. He wasn’t asking for an explanation, wasn’t pushing you to share what was on your mind. Instead, he simply held you, his voice low and gentle.

"You know you can always talk to me, princesa," he said, his tone soft with affection. "I’m here for you, always."

You just nodded, feeling the tears that had threatened to rise earlier finally ease away. Javier's presence was all the comfort you needed. In his arms, you didn’t have to be strong. You could be soft, vulnerable, and know that he would always be there to catch you.

[signanothername]

If someone had found baby corrupted nightmare and taken him in, raised him, like, say for example, blue, how differently do you think everything would have ended up?

(*COUGH COUGH* totally not just pushing my dad swap agenda nope nuh uh *COUGH*)

i just imagine nightmare sneaking into his room at night to curl up near his bed like a dog, and IMMEDIATELY skedaddling when he senses him wake up.

This poor kid is freshly dead (alive? Born?) he is in Desperate need of comfort 💀 but it's not like he's gonna ask for it outright.

And i horrendously need someone to hold him and give him warm food and new clothes and toys to play with and blankets and tuck him in at night and Hold Him and feed him medicine when he's sick and read hin bedtime stories and rock him to sleep and give him a comfort plushie or blanket or item of sorts and HOLD HIM and-

ahem, so anyway, what do you think? How differently do you think he would've ended up? Cuz i think it'd be a lot different if nightmare was shown care by someone for once and comforted by someone who wasn't a fellow traumatized six year old.

And, yknow, was an adult who knew what they were doing and didn't hate him for no reason 💀

Ooooh :D

Yeah I definitely think he would’ve grown up a much different person, cause he wouldn’t have relied on himself to survive, he wouldn’t experience the constant fear of the many ways he could get hurt or die

He definitely wouldn’t have starved on negativity cause he didn’t know how to balance it anymore

And if he was actually raised by a loving parent that’s actually present in his life to guide him through it enough to find a healthy outlet for the horrors he experienced, as well as help him with his emotional, mental, and physical health a lot better, his life would be a lot easier

I think he still would be a lot more grumpy and a bit aggressive than he was before the corruption, and the Apple incident would still have a great impact on his psyche, he’d still hold a bit of fear inside, but that fear won’t end up guiding all his actions, and it definitely wouldn’t lead to him becoming power hungry, doing whatever he deems necessary to obtain it

Hell, even with how the corruption twists his happiness from something pure to finding joy in the misery of others, I still think with a loving parent raising him, he will find healthy outlets to his emotions, whatever they may be

I think he might eventually tell his parent figure about what happened with him, with his mother, with his twin, maybe even Dream would find himself in a lot better circumstances when he awakens from stone, finding a brother patiently awaiting him, finding himself waking up in warm welcoming arms, I definitely think it’ll contribute to the twins’ relationship being a lot better, a lot healthier

Their trauma would still put a few wrenches in their journey, but it definitely wouldn’t go so sour and bitter, Nightmare would be a lot more open towards Dream’s love and affection, hatred won’t taint his heart and cause their relationship to go so wrong

Generally, I definitely think it’ll be a lot more fluffy and slice of life-ish, which is super wholesome to think about

Now as for Blue specifically being the father figure, only two words, FUCK YES.

But I feel like, as a very traumatized lil child who doesn’t know any better, who had adults hate, hurt and even try to kill him, Nightmare would simply not trust Swap, not immediately

So it’d be really fun to see Nightmare actually warm up to Swap first way before he takes Nightmare in to raise and take care of him, it’d be fun to see what Swap might do to gain Nightmare’s trust enough for Nightmare to even let him within 10 meters without running away immediately or attacking him

May I also present some suggestions for another parental figure that could be really fun to explore? Color, I’d love to see him take care of a little newly corrupted Nightmare dhhdhdhd

Anyway *cough* this is such an adorable possible multiverse *cough*

[camille-lachenille]

Finished my third reading of Old Maggie Took in less than a year and I don’t know what to do with my life now…

[puppyeared]

doodles of my fav sillies

anton belongs to @poicyss

[pixelatedraindrops]

okaynevergivemeaccesstoanyspritearteveragain XD

Yuma after forgetting his rain coat one time.

You know damn well Kanai Ward's rain would utterly wreck him if he didn't have his protective attire on. HE JUST LOOKS SO SMALL AND FRAIL FR

Call 911 or he will die /jk

I had to make a chart for this.

Bonus edits 🤒

[fisheito]

OMG. that means... Cloaca Crew........

WAIT.

✨C l o a c a C r e w✨

[fowlblue]

A fresh coat of paint for my dear Anatome!

I’ve had very little time to draw lately, so I wanted to do something with an OC- kitties are my comfort zone. And what better time for my horror mascot than the spooky season?

[bookwyrminspiration]

rolling up my sleeves as I open my doc before writing another variation of the exact same fic I've written a dozen times before

[welcometogrouchland]

It's not that I find Pretty Woman (1990) particularly compelling (like I understand if you do, I see the appeal, but it's not Gary Marshall's best film imo). I'm more just surprised that I haven't found more fanfics that are tagged "inspired by pretty woman". It frankly seems tailor made for hurt/comfort au fics

[sipsoftea]

I wish I wasn’t such a religiously traumatized coward, I wanna do spicy art. Idek what I’d draw, I just wanna do something ✨scandalous✨ya know?