#straight up giving her heart eyes directly to her face this time

[livelovecaliforniadreams]

1x9 | 2x19

[pucksandpower]

Thawed

Kimi Räikkönen x sunshine!Reader

Summary: the many times throughout the years that only the warmth of his wife could thaw the Iceman

“He’s just so … cold,” your aunt comments, wrinkling her nose at Kimi’s back as he heads to the bar. It’s the first time you’ve brought him to a family event.

You bristle, prepared to defend your new boyfriend. “He’s not cold once you get to know him. He’s just a private person.”

Your aunt sniffs. “Still, he barely said two words all night. And that nickname — the Iceman! I don’t like it.”

You straighten your spine. “Well I do. His thoughtfulness and loyalty outweigh any lack of words.”

As you speak, you feel your doubts about mismatched personalities fade. Opposites attract for a reason.

Your aunt looks unconvinced, but you pay her no mind. You’re falling for the quiet Finn with a heart of gold. And you won’t let anyone’s disapproval chill that flame.

When Kimi returns, you lean up and kiss his cheek fondly. He looks pleasantly surprised. Let them judge. You see the real man inside.

***

“Smash it! Smash it!” The rowdy groomsman chants as you and Kimi cut into your wedding cake.

Other guests take up the chant, clamoring for Kimi to shove cake in your face per tradition. But you had quietly asked him not to — you don’t want frosting up your nose and ruining your makeup on your wedding day.

Kimi’s eyes meet yours, a silent question. You give a slight shake of your head. His expression hardens with resolve.

In one smooth motion, he whirls and smashes the slice of cake directly into the rowdy groomsman’s face. Icing splatters everywhere. The room goes silent.

“Here you go, since you seem to want the cake smashed so bad,” Kimi says coldly.

The groomsman splutters in shock. You have to hide your smile behind your hand.

Kimi winks at you as he licks icing off his fingers. “Now, where were we?”

Heart swelling, you lean in to kiss your wonderful, cake-covered husband. No one gets in the way of your wishes on your wedding day.

***

The paddock is bustling with activity as you make your way through the crowds, weaving between mechanics and engineers going about their race day routines. The smells of rubber and gasoline hang thick in the air. You smile and nod at familiar faces, receiving knowing looks in return.

Everyone here knows who you are — the bubbly, outgoing wife of the Iceman himself. The unlikely pairing has been the talk of Formula 1 ever since you started dating a few years ago. You’re warm and chatty. He’s cool and laconic. But somehow, it works.

You find Kimi in the Ferrari motorhome, sipping an energy drink, game face on. His brows are furrowed in concentration, icy grey eyes focused straight ahead. You know not to disturb him right now. This is business time.

Slipping into the seat beside him, you pull out your phone and scroll aimlessly, letting the comfortable silence stretch between you. The hustle and noise of the paddock fades into the background.

Finally, Kimi drains the last drops from his can and crushes it in his hand. He turns to you, the stern expression melting away. His eyes soften and the corners of his mouth tick upward ever so slightly.

“Morning,” he says quietly, voice gravelly.

You beam at him. “Good morning, love. Ready to go racing today?”

He nods, the hint of a smile still playing on his lips. “Did you sleep okay?”

“I did, thanks to my very comfy race driver pillow.” You wink.

Kimi snorts, the creases around his eyes deepening. He leans in and presses a quick kiss to your temple.

Around you, mechanics and team members try and fail to pretend they aren’t glancing your way, still not used to seeing the Iceman so openly affectionate. But Kimi doesn’t seem to notice or care.

“I’ll see you after,” he says, standing up and giving your hand a squeeze. His face settles back into cool concentration as he strides out to prepare for the race.

You settle in to watch qualifying, heart swelling with pride and love for your Finnish fireball.

***

“Kimi, the stewards want to speak with you about the incident with Perez on lap 37.”

Kimi’s jaw clenches, eyes flashing. “Typical,” he mutters.

You touch his arm reassuringly. “Go on, I’ll wait here for you.”

He nods, striding off to the steward’s office, race suit half unzipped and hair disheveled. You know he’ll be lucky to escape without a penalty. Kimi has never been one to mince words or hide his displeasure with other drivers. You can only imagine the icy staredown happening behind those closed doors right now.

Twenty minutes later, he emerges looking ready to smash a table. You jump up and hurry over.

“Well? What did they say?”

Kimi’s scowl deepens, if that’s even possible. “Ten second penalty. Ridiculous.” He spits out something in Finnish you’re glad you don’t understand.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. You drove brilliantly today.”

He shakes his head and stalks down the hall towards the paddock. You scurry after him, nearly jogging to match his long angry strides.

“Forget it. Not your fault the stewards are blind.”

You slip your hand into his, lacing your fingers together. Immediately you feel some of the tension leave his body. He glances down at you, the hint of a smile breaking through the thunderclouds.

“Let’s get out of here,” you say gently. “I’ll make you your favorite dinner, open a nice bottle of wine ...”

He nods, expression softening. “Okay. Sounds good.”

You smile up at him, giving his hand a squeeze. The stormy Finn may have a heart of ice on the track, but you know better. He just needs a little sunshine sometimes.

***

You pause in the kitchen doorway, heart melting at the scene before you. Kimi sits on the living room floor, your baby niece perched happily in his lap. He bounces her gently on his knee as she squeals with delight, the hint of a smile on his usually stoic face.

“Faster Unca Kimi, faster!” She cries, unruly curls flying.

He chuckles and picks up the pace, eliciting delighted giggles from her. Your sister watches nearby, still looking a bit bemused at seeing the Iceman so good natured and playful.

Finally Kimi stops, feigning exhaustion. “Whew, that’s enough for Uncle Kimi,” he says, lifting her up and pretending to wipe sweat from his brow. “You’re too fast!”

She dissolves into giggles and wraps her tiny arms around his neck in a hug. He hugs her back, looking more content than you’ve ever seen him. Your heart feels fit to burst.

“Who wants ice cream?” You announce, carrying in two bowls.

“Me, me!” Your niece starts to squirm in Kimi’s lap, reaching eagerly for her treat.

He stands, swinging her up easily onto his shoulders. “Let’s go have ice cream on the porch, give your mama a break,” he says. She kicks her little legs gleefully.

Your sister shoots you a grateful smile as Kimi carries her outside. You grin and wink. Who would believe it — the Iceman, a big softie for kids. But you know better. Under that cool exterior beats a heart of gold.

***

The crowds pressing around the circuit are suffocating today. Fans shove programs and merch at you for Kimi to sign. One overzealous teenage boy tries to wrap you in an uninvited hug.

Suddenly Kimi is there, gently but firmly detaching the boy’s hands from your arms. His face is thunderous.

“Back. Off.” The boy stumbles away wide-eyed.

Kimi keeps a protective grip on your shoulder as he marches you briskly from the paddock. Once inside the privacy of the motorhome, he cups your face in his hands.

“Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” His tone is urgent.

You shake your head, still a bit shaken. “Just got grabby. Thank you for the rescue.”

Kimi exhales, pressing his forehead to yours. “I don’t like you getting swarmed out there.”

You smile wryly. “Hazards of being Mrs. Iceman.”

He brushes his thumb over your cheek. “I just want to keep you safe. Those crowds make me nervous.”

You kiss him softly. “I’ll be okay.”

His eyes bore into yours, icy blue melting into tenderness. “Still. Stay close to me out there from now on. So I can protect what’s most precious.”

Your heart flutters under his intent gaze. You lace your fingers through his, feeling infinitely cherished.

“Always.”

***

“Kimi, your phone is ringing again,” you call from the couch.

He doesn’t respond, gaze fixed intently on the TV as he navigates a difficult turn in his racing video game. The phone buzzes angrily on the coffee table.

With a sigh, you reach for it. The caller ID says “Bane of My Existence.” You frown. That’s the third call from her this week that he’s ignored.

“Kimi ...”

“Hmm?” He pauses the game and glances at you, eyebrows raised.

You hold up the phone. “It’s your PR officer again. Don’t you think you should answer and see what she wants?”

His expression clouds over. “No. Told her not to call me anymore.”

“Oh? Why’s that?” You keep your tone light and curious.

He shrugs. “Kept trying to get me to do stuff. Go to parties and all that.”

You bite back a smile, warmth flooding your chest. Your shy homebody of a husband, sought after on the celebrity circuit but wanting none of it.

“Well, I’m glad she hasn’t lured you away yet,” you tease gently.

The corners of his mouth quirk up as he takes the phone from you and sets it aside before pulling you into his lap.

“Don’t worry,” he rumbles, nudging your nose with his. “You’re the only party I need.”

You kiss him softly, heart overflowing. The glitz and glam means nothing to your Kimi. Home is where his heart is.

***

You awake to whispered voices and the smell of something burning. Bleary-eyed, you shuffle to the kitchen doorway.

Kimi stands at the stove, hair endearingly mussed from sleep. He’s scowling down at a frying pan, clutching a spatula like a weapon. Your brother leans against the counter, trying and failing to stifle laughter.

“What’s going on?” You ask through a yawn.

Kimi’s scowl deepens. “Trying to make you breakfast. Not going well.” He prods the blackened lump in the pan disdainfully.

Your brother snorts. “He nearly set off the fire alarm. I got here just in time.”

“I told you I don’t cook,” Kimi mutters, avoiding your gaze.

You pad over and wrap your arms around him from behind, pressing a kiss between his shoulder blades. “It’s the thought that counts. Thank you, love.”

He relaxes back into your embrace. Your brother mimes gagging behind his back. You stick out your tongue at him.

“Here, I’ll show you,” you say, gently prying the spatula from Kimi’s hand. “Just go slow ...”

Soon, the three of you are gathered around the table, eating the pancakes you made together. Kimi’s are a bit misshapen, but edible.

He looks inordinately pleased as you sample his. “Good?”

You beam at him and squeeze his hand. “The very best.”

His rare unguarded smile warms you more deeply than any breakfast ever could.

***

You awaken to the dipping of the mattress as Kimi slips under the covers. The red glow of his bedside clock reads 3:48 AM.

“Everything okay?” You murmur, rolling over to face him.

He wraps an arm around you, pulling you close against his chest. You feel the steady thump of his heart under your palm.

“Yeah. Couldn’t sleep.” His voice rumbles low near your ear.

You nuzzle into him, breathing in the familiar scent of his skin. “Worrying about the race this weekend?”

He exhales, his breath stirring your hair. “No. Just thinking.”

When he doesn’t elaborate, you lift your head to study his face in the dimness. His eyes shine in the faint light, gazing at you with an intensity that makes your own heart skip.

“What is it?” You whisper.

He brushes a strand of hair from your face, his callused fingers infinitely tender. “Sometimes I still can’t believe you’re here. That you’re mine.”

Emotion swells in your chest, words escaping you. You cup his stubbled face and guide his lips down to yours in a soft, lingering kiss.

When you finally draw apart, he pulls you close again, tucking your head under his chin. No more words are needed. You understand each other perfectly in the quiet spaces between heartbeats. Soon his breathing evens out in sleep, and you follow him down, still nestled safe in the circle of his arms.

***

You’re just drizzling the last of the chocolate over the molten lava cakes when you hear Kimi’s keys in the front door. A smile spreads across your face. Perfect timing.

He wanders in a few moments later, hair adorably rumpled, eyes lighting up when he sees you.

“Mmm, something smells good,” he says, crossing the kitchen to wrap you in a hug.

You kiss his scratchy cheek. “Made your favorite for dessert. Now go get cleaned up while I finish.”

He squeezes you tighter, stubble tickling your neck as he nuzzles into it. “Can’t I have you for dessert instead?”

You swat his shoulder playfully. “Go on, you. Plenty of time for that later.”

He steals one more kiss before sauntering off, a grin playing about his lips. You shake your head, unable to stop smiling. After all these years, he still makes your heart race as if you’re teenagers again.

When he returns, you’ve set out the seared salmon, roasted vegetables, and the two perfect chocolate lava cakes. His eyes light up.

“Have I told you lately that you’re the best wife ever?” He asks, pulling out your chair.

“Hmm, I think you could stand to mention it more,” you tease.

He takes your hand, brushing his thumb over your knuckles. His eyes pierce yours. “You’re the best wife ever,” he says solemnly.

You lean in and kiss him, happiness bubbling up inside you. However many times he says it, you’ll never get tired of hearing it.

***

“So, what’s it like being married to the grumpiest driver on the grid?” The reporter shoves a microphone in your face, invasive and smug.

You recoil, blindsided. “Excuse me?”

“Come on, he’s not exactly Mr. Personality.” The reporter leans closer. “Does the Iceman thaw out at home or just freeze you out?”

Humiliation burns through you. Before you can respond, Kimi is there, gently moving you aside. His eyes are blazing.

“Don’t you dare talk about my wife like that,” he growls at the reporter. “You know nothing about our life.”

The reporter withers under Kimi’s icy glare. You feel a rush of gratitude for your protective husband.

Kimi turns to you, face softening. “Let’s get out of here.”

Once you’re alone, he brushes a strand of hair from your face. “Sorry you had to deal with that. He had no right to badger you about our marriage.”

You lean into him, safe in the circle of his arms. “It’s okay. You came to my rescue like a knight in shining racing gear.”

He snorts. “Hardly a knight. But for you, always.” He kisses you tenderly.

No matter what the media says, your life together is not theirs to define. Your love writes its own quiet story each day.

***

You awake in the dark to a loud crash from downstairs. Heart pounding, you shake Kimi’s shoulder.

“Kimi, wake up! I think someone’s broken in.”

He’s up in an instant, alert and poised to strike. You hear footsteps creeping up the stairs. Kimi pushes you behind him and grabs the baseball bat by the bed.

The footsteps reach the landing and a shadowy figure appears in the doorway. Kimi flicks on the light, bat raised menacingly. You both freeze.

It’s Sebastian Vettel, eyes wide, hands raised in surrender. “Whoa whoa, it’s just me!”

Kimi’s shoulders slump as he lowers the bat. “Seb? What the hell are you doing here?”

Seb runs a hand through his messy hair. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I was in town and my rental car broke down outside. I was hoping I could crash here tonight.”

Kimi sighs, shaking his head. “You couldn’t call first?”

Seb grins sheepishly. “Forgot to charge my phone.”

You step out from behind Kimi, laying a hand on his arm. “It’s fine, love. Let’s get some fresh sheets for the guest room.” You turn to Seb. “We’ll figure out your car in the morning.”

Seb’s shoulders sag in relief. “Thanks, I really owe you guys.”

As you make up the bed, you share an amused look with Kimi. Only Seb could turn up unannounced in the middle of the night and get away with it. But then again, that’s why you love him.

***

You’re waiting at the finish line, heart in your throat as the cars scream past for the final lap. Kimi is battling for a podium finish, but has fallen back after a poorly timed pit stop. He’s gaining ground fast, but is he out of time?

The crowd roars as the frontrunners cross the line. P2 … P3 … waiting for P4. Come on, Kimi.

Then you see it, the red and white Alfa Romeo flashing past the checkered flag, narrowly clinching third. You leap in the air, cheering loudly. Kimi did it!

You rush down towards the pits, arriving just as Kimi climbs from his car. His race suit is drenched, hair plastered to his forehead, but his eyes are bright. When he spots you, a grin breaks across his face.

You throw your arms around him, heedless of how sweaty he is. “You were amazing! I’m so proud of you.”

He lifts you off your feet in a bear hug, laughing breathlessly in your ear. The sound sends joy bursting through your veins.

As he sets you down, you cradle his stubbled face in your hands. “I love you,” you say fiercely.

His grin softens to something more tender. He tilts his forehead against yours, heedless of the crowds milling nearby.

“Love you too,” he murmurs.

The cameras flash around you, eager to capture this rare unguarded moment. But Kimi only has eyes for you. Third place has never felt so golden.

***

“Ugh, your wife is so annoyingly positive all the time. It’s nauseating,” the other driver’s girlfriend gripes to Kimi at a race afterparty.

You freeze mid-laugh, stung by her disdainful tone. Kimi’s eyes narrow dangerously.

“I would rather have a positive wife than a miserable cow like you,” he says coldly. “Come on, let’s go.”

He takes your arm and steers you firmly away. You blink back tears, embarrassed.

“Hey,” Kimi says softly, tilting your chin up. “Don’t listen to her. I love how positive you are. Don’t let anyone make you feel bad for spreading joy.”

You give a watery chuckle. “Really? You don’t find it annoying?”

“Are you kidding? Your light balances out my darkness perfectly.” He punctuates this with a swift kiss. “You keep me from being a constant grump.”

You laugh and swat his chest. “Impossible. No one can tame the Iceman’s grumpiness.”

He smiles tenderly and pulls you close. “You do. Don’t change for anyone else.”

***

You pace the bathroom floor, heart racing. The little white stick sits innocently on the counter, but its result will change everything. One blue line for negative, two for positive.

Three minutes have never felt so long.

When the timer finally beeps, you take a deep breath and turn it over with a shaky hand. Two blue lines stare back at you.

Positive.

Emotions swell within you — joy, nervousness, excitement. You and Kimi have been trying for a baby, but it still feels so surreal now that it’s actually happening.

You hear the front door open and Kimi call out your name. It’s time. Clutching the test behind your back, you go to him.

He must read something in your face, because his brows furrow in concern. “Everything okay?”

Your face splits into a teary grin. “Everything’s perfect.” You bring the test out from behind you and hold it up wordlessly.

Kimi’s eyes widen. For once, the unflappable Finn seems utterly flapped. “You … we ...” He stares at the two little lines, then back at you. “We’re having a baby?”

You nod, vision blurring with happy tears. With a joyful shout, Kimi sweeps you up in his arms and spins you around. His excitement is boyish and uncontained.

When he sets you down, he cradles your face in both hands. “I’m going to be a father,” he whispers in awe.

You put your hand over his, overjoyed tears spilling down your cheeks. “You’re going to be the best father.”

***

You fidget impatiently on the exam table, Kimi’s hand clutched in yours. After months of waiting, today is your first ultrasound. If all looks well, you’ll get to see your baby for the very first time.

“What’s taking so long?” You huff. Kimi smiles and presses a kiss to your temple.

“Relax, they’ll be here soon.” His calm steadies you, as it always does.

Finally the technician arrives and asks you to lift up your shirt. She squeezes cool gel over your swelling belly and begins moving the ultrasound wand through it.

The screen comes to life, showing grainy black and white images you can’t decipher. The technician frowns, adjusting some dials. Your heart leaps into your throat.

Sensing your distress, Kimi gives your hand a reassuring squeeze. “It’s okay. Just be patient,” he murmurs.

After a few tense moments, the technician’s face clears. She turns the screen towards you with a smile. “There we are. There’s your baby.”

You gaze in wonder at the little shape filling the screen, tiny arms and legs visibly squirming. Your vision blurs with tears. That’s your child, your little miracle.

Beside you Kimi is utterly transfixed, eyes shining. “That’s our baby,” he whispers reverently.

He lifts your intertwined hands and presses his lips to your knuckles. “Thank you,” he says, voice husky with emotion. “For this gift.”

You have no words. You simply lean into him, his solid warmth anchoring you as joy washes over you both.

***

You stare glumly at your reflection in the mirror. At eight months pregnant, you feel like a beluga whale. Your ankles are swollen, your back aches constantly, and none of your clothes fit over your enormous bump anymore.

Voices sound from downstairs as Kimi arrives home. You feel tears prick your eyes. You don’t want him to see you like this, a beached whale in sweatpants.

Sniffling, you ease onto the bed and bury your face in a pillow. Kimi finds you there a few minutes later. The mattress dips as he sits down and rubs your back.

“What’s wrong, love?”

You shake your head, embarrassed. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

Gently he turns you over, brushing the hair from your damp cheeks. “Talk to me,” he says softly.

A sob escapes you. “I’m hideous like this! I’ve gotten so huge. You must be disgusted looking at me.”

Kimi’s brow furrows. He takes your chin in his hand, forcing you to meet his earnest gaze. “Is that what you think? That I find you disgusting?”

Ashamed, you drop your eyes, fresh tears spilling over.

“Look at me,” he says gently. You do. His ice blue eyes pierce yours. “You’ve never been more beautiful to me than you are right now, carrying our child.”

He places a reverent hand on your belly. “You are giving us the most precious gift in the world. How could I not find you beautiful?”

His words pierce your heart. You cover his hand with yours. “I love you,” you whisper.

He gathers you close, dropping feather-light kisses over your face. “And I love you. Always.”

You cling to him, feeling foolish and so very loved.

***

A contraction rips through you, more intense than any before. You cry out, squeezing Kimi’s hand desperately.

“Breathe, love, breathe,” he coaches, face taut.

You gasp air into your lungs as the vice grip on your insides finally releases. Kimi dabs the sweat from your brow with a cool cloth.

“You’re doing so well,” he murmurs. “Our little one will be here soon.”

Even through the haze of pain, his voice anchors you. Your Kimi, always steady as a rock.

Too soon, another contraction wrings a ragged shout from you. Kimi never leaves your side, letting you nearly crush his hand as you ride out the agony.

“I can’t … I can’t do this ...” you sob.

Kimi presses his lips to your temple. “You can. You’re the strongest person I know. I’m right here with you.”

His faith buoys you, even as your body is wracked with wave after wave of excruciating spasms. Your world narrows to the circle of his arms.

Then finally, miraculously, comes the thin, piercing cry of your child. Your exhausted tears mingle with joyful laughter.

Kimi cuts the cord with shaky hands, eyes shining brighter than you’ve ever seen. When they lay the squalling, pink bundle on your chest, the universe crystallizes to this one perfect point.

Your family, whole at last.

***

You awake in the small hours before dawn, reaching across the cool sheets only to find Kimi’s side of the bed empty. Padding down the hallway on silent feet, you peer into the nursery.

Your breath catches in your throat. Kimi stands over the crib, your tiny daughter cradled against his chest. One large hand gently supports her downy head.

He’s speaking softly to her in Finnish, too low for you to understand. But the love shining through his voice brings tears to your eyes. Your tough, taciturn Finn transformed into a doting father.

As he lays her tenderly back in the crib, you hear him murmur in a whisper, “Don’t worry little one, your isä will always protect you. I promise you that.”

He tucks the blanket snugly around her and brushes a feather-light kiss over her forehead. The tenderness of it makes your heart ache.

You slip silently back to bed before he notices you, not wanting to intrude on this private moment between father and daughter. But the image stays seared in your mind.

When Kimi joins you a few minutes later, you turn and press your face into his chest so he won’t see your tears of joy. His arms come around you reflexively.

“You okay?” He rumbles.

You nod, a lump in your throat. Your family is so very blessed.

***

The paddock is bustling with activity as you push your daughter’s stroller through the chaotic maze of the paddock. She’s only six months old, wide-eyed at all the commotion.

Mechanics pause to coo over her, their grease-smudged fingers surprisingly gentle. PR people stop to fuss and take photos. Word has spread — the Iceman’s baby girl is here.

Kimi strides over, stooping to drop a kiss on your head and tickle his daughter’s tummy. His race suit is on, grey eyes intense and focused.

“Sure you don’t want me to take her while you concentrate?” You ask.

He shakes his head, a corner of his mouth quirked up. “I need to see my two favorite girls before I drive.”

Your heart melts. Kimi scoops her up, and she clutches at his nose and gurgles. Nearby, you hear shutters clicking madly. The Iceman undone by a baby — it’ll be all over the press tonight.

But Kimi only has eyes for his daughter, face soft in a way it never is before a race. With a deep breath, he cuddles her close and murmurs something in Finnish before handing her back to you.

You kiss his cheek. “Go show them how it’s done, Daddy.”

He winks and strides off towards the pit lane, determination in his stride. Your daughter waves a chubby fist as he disappears from view.

No matter how many races he wins, now his best trophy waits for him at the finish line. His family.

***

“Must be lonely married to a man called the Iceman,” the reporter says slyly. “He’s not known for being warm and affectionate.”

Anger flashes through you. How dare this stranger imply your marriage is lacking.

“You couldn’t be more wrong,” you reply sharply. “Kimi is very attentive and loving in private.”

The reporter raises her eyebrows. “But his public image ...”

You cut her off. “That’s all it is — an image. Kimi deserves more respect than tired old stereotypes.”

Your voice softens as you glance to where Kimi is chatting with fans, his body angled protectively towards you.

“There is no one kinder or more loyal than my husband. He cherishes our family greatly, he just doesn’t flaunt it to the world.”

The reporter looks taken aback by your fervent defense. You almost feel sorry for her. She’ll never truly know the man behind the Iceman legend. But you do and you won’t tolerate anyone maligning him.

[allfearstofallto]

PLS CAN YOU FEED US MORE hero of the nation knight!childe ON MY KNEES I LOVE YOUR WORK SO MUCH AND I SEARCHED EVERYWHERE FOR A FIC LIKE THIS

This took FOREVER to write, but here you go!!

Blessings Be to The Hero of the Nation

Historical AU

Yandere Hero of the Nation! Childe x Fem! Reader

TW: yandere themes, stalking, minor character death, blood, threatening, forced marriage/engagement

He kept one of your hair ribbons wrapped around the hilt of his sword. It billowed in the wind constantly and would draw watchful eyes to it. That pastel pink fabric didn't match a single thing on his brutish, usually bloody exterior, but he still kept it regardless. You tragically didn't give it to him in a blatant display of affection and well wishes for him on his journey, instead, he found the little ribbon after it'd blown off your head and up to the wind. A little pout formed on your lips realizing you'd lost it, but you decided against retrieving it. He didn't though. He picked it up and placed it in his pocket, taking it home to clean off the dirt and grime.

That same ribbon was clenched in his hands when he arrived at the gate of your manor, along with a few other gifts that he would give to you. He'd just slayed the dragon, the wretched menace that was terrorizing the nation, now and only now did he feel worthy to ask for your hand. Cleaning off all the blood and gore that was on his armor, polishing it into light metal that could blind anyone who looked directly at it, he was certain that this would charm you off of your feet.

When he was invited into your home by your parents who were surprised to see the hero himself at their door, he didn't care about the tea or the cakes. The praise meant nothing coming from them. He skipped the pleasantries and went straight to the point. He wanted your hand in marriage and he wanted the wedding to be soon.

A skittish expression crossed your father's face as he gritted his teeth, “We've decided to leave that decision up to her.” Childe smirked, that was even better. He'd never met a woman who wouldn't fall for his charms.

You were called down from your room, eyelids heavy and half open, still in your thin sleeping gown with a robe over it. You were rubbing the tiredness from your eyes as you walked down the stairs, your other delicate hand gripping the banister. And when you saw him, you bowed. A deep traditional bow, given to those of a respectable higher status.

He kneeled down on one knee before you. The male kneeled for only one person, the queen herself. His sword pulled from its sheath, he laid it flat against his palms, offering it up to you. That knocked the sleepiness from his body and suddenly your eyes were wide open. Genuine shock was making your body stiff as a board and you looked back and forth to your parents who didn't say a word.

“Your visage has danced around my heart non stop since the first time I laid eyes on you. I wish to use this sword only to fight for you. Won't you please do me the honor of becoming my wife?” Words spoken in honor, with him meaning every bit of it. You were meant to take the sword from his hands, tapping it gently upon each of his shoulders, but you didn't. You just stood there, lips trembling, but not saying anything.

A marriage proposal via a letter was easy to ignore or reject, you didn't have to see their reaction. But never had you had someone be so bold as to propose to you in person. And not only that, the very hero that saved the Kingdom. Rumors told you he'd be marrying the first princess, she obsessed over him before he became the hero and those feelings seemed to only grow stronger after he waltzed into the city with the bloody head of the beast. Yet here he was at your feet, patiently anticipating your answer which he was positive was going to be a yes.

“I-'' you began, trying to think of the easiest way to let him down gently, “I fear that I'm not ready for marriage yet.” You said hurriedly. That wasn’t entirely a lie. You spent countless hours looking at the list of marriage candidates and scoping them out at balls and parties, but quickly realizing that none of them suited your tastes in that way. The entire idea of being wed barely satisfied you. You wanted to push it off for as long as possible.

“I'm willing to wait for you until the world crumbles. I'd even accept being your fiance until the day we die, as long as I can say you're mine,” he was persistent, you'd give him that.

You fiddled with your fingers nervously. Time felt as if it had stopped and this moment would never end. No matter what you did, he was still going to be there, “I thought you were to be wed to her highness, the princess?” You questioned him.

A scoff fell from his cherry pink lips, eyes looking you up and down, drinking in every inch of your body in that thin nightgown, “She does not interest me. Not the way you do.”

“There is really nothing interesting about me,”

“Won't you let me be the judge of that?”

Your shoulders slumped as you looked to your parents. They seemed as surprised by his persistence as you did, but weren't going to step in to help you, they always affirmed that it was your decision, they wanted you to be independent.

“Forgive me, hero, but I can not accept your offer,”

For just a split second you saw that princely expression slip. His eyes grew dark, lips in a deep frown, a rage you'd never seen before. But he was back to his usual expression in less than a second, that charming smile forming on his lips again as he stood from his knees and sheathed his sword a little too slowly.

“You wound me, my lady,” he'd mutter softly, hands still conveniently tight around the hilt of this sword, “Won't you please accept my gifts? And if you are to begin considering marriage, I hope that my proposal will be remembered fondly.”

Childe showed himself out, a little too quickly, but you didn't dare tell him to slow down. It was only once he was out those large double doors, did the air in your home feel breathable, you finally felt safe again. You watched his carriage leave from a window, watching as his eyes went dull again, losing all shimmers and feeling like a hollow mimicry of what humans were supposed to look like.

You were quite embarrassed to say you fell in love after that. Not with Childe, of course. You mentally tried to push the man from your mind after the way he startled both you and your family. Instead, your feelings developed for a commoner boy. You found yourself eyeing him when he'd deliver produce to your home, his face being one of pure beauty despite his messy exterior. As months went by, you'd catch yourself stealing bashful glances at him, locking eyes only for both of you to look away shyly. When the engagement was announced, Childe was one of the first to hear about it.

You twirled around the house in your wedding dress. Something plain and basic, but it was what your family could afford, and quite honestly, you loved it. You didn't want to take it off. Your fear of getting it dirty lessened as the days went by, until the wedding was only a week away.

“A guest for you, my lady,” one of your maids had said. Typically, when the employees of the house saw you dressed in your white gown, they'd smile at you, overjoyed as well. But she didn't. She looked worried, even a bit tense as she made the announcement to you.

“I hadn't arranged to meet anyone today,” you said a bit quietly, going to you closer to pick out something to change into, “Please tell them to wait in the day room.”

She stood stiffly for a second, then opened her trembling mouth to speak again, “I tried to, my lady. But he insisted on seeing you right now. He's just outside the door,”

A part of you wanted to ask who it was, who would be so disrespectful as to barge right up to a lady's room without her permission. But you already knew. There was a sense of unease sinking into your stomach. Unease and recognition. All the gifts and letters he'd sent weren't enough, were they? The man you were ignoring just had to come see you in person.

“Let him in,” you told the maid. She seemed confused at the ease at which you allowed such a thing, but still opened the door, revealing Childe who stood still in the hallway. He stepped past her, eyes only trained on you, “You're dismissed,” you said quietly, with a reassuring smile to the maid. Hesitance danced across her face, looking back and forth between you Childe, but she still did as told, bowing before leaving.

“You look lovely,” he said breathlessly, taking in the sight of you in that pure white dress.

“Thank you,” was all you could think to say back. Now that he was here before you, your mind was growing blank, all the things you wanted to say suddenly getting lost in fear. You tried not to notice the tension in the room, the way he was eyeing you like a predator about to pounce on a rabbit, but even your tough exterior was easy to see through.

“My heart aches for you, my lady,” he speaks softly while taking slow steps towards you. The terror of this situation made you move backwards, until your feet had made you press your back against the wall, “I fear that my haste might've made me do something…irrational.”

His dominant hand seems focused on the sword at his hip, making you look at it. It was only when you saw the red speckles all over his hand, hilt of the sword, and the oddly familiar pink ribbon he kept tied around it, did that coppery smell fill your nostrils.

With a trembling voice and a fake smile, you tried to assure him, “Any mistake is fixable, Sir Childe.”

“Not this one,” his hand continued to hold the hilt of his sword, squeezing it a few times as of testing the weight of his blade, “Do you know the best part of being the hero? The dragon slayer?” He asked, waiting for your response which was just a slow, forced shake of your head, prompting him to continue, “It's not the riches or the praise. It's not even the women.” As he speaks, one of his hands slides down from your cheek, to your neck, to the bodice of your dress. Tearful eyes look down to see him smearing that red liquid, that blood onto you white dress, staining it.

“I don't understand,” you mumbled, but your words fall on deaf ears.

“The best part of being the hero, is the freedom to do what I want. With no prosecution. Who in their right mind would stand up to the man who saved our failing nation? The answer is no one. Not the king, nor his workers, and especially not your weak little fiance,”

The sight and smell of blood, Childe's deep, hollow blue eyes, the way your heart felt as if it wanted to lurch out of your mouth. All things you tried to focus on as his words pounded their way into your skull, understanding washing over you like a wave that was trying to drown you where you stood.

“Wh-what did you do?” Your voice, so high pitched and breaking as the weight of the words forced through your body.

His hand, cold, soft, wet with blood rubbed your cheek, while his face never faltered, those dead eyes never changing, he had no remorse. It made you sick to your stomach, images of your fiance flashing through your head as you tried to imagine what he looked like, the hopeful ones saying that he was at least still alive.

“I'm going to ask again, nicely this time,” he began while pulling a ring from his pocket. Much more intricate than the one your fiance had given you, seeing as he had the hero's budget. But that didn't make you feel any less light headed when it was slipped onto your ring finger, freezing cold against your warm skin, “Will you do me the honor of becoming my bride?”

[shares-a-vest]

Eddie rushes down the narrow hall of the trailer, his cereal bowl still in hand as he chuckles away at whoever has awakened a grumpy Steve from his beauty rest by pounding on the door at 7am.

He opens the front door to find an equally frustrated Dustin Henderson, all prim and proper, dressed ready for school. Dustin practically shoves a large cooler bag into Eddie's hand, giving him a split second to hold his cereal bowl at arm's length so as not to spill it.

"What's this?" he asks, frowning.

He attempts to peer into the bag but can only see the tops of at least two plastic containers at the angle his full hands have forced him into.

"Lasagna," Dustin informs - though it's more like a droning deadpan.

"Goody," he beams, bopping up and down on the spot as his young friend rolls his eyes.

"Dusty!" Claudia chides from the car. She spots Eddie looking directly at her and switches to a motherly smile, "Oh, hi Eddie, darling."

He waves, "Thanks, Claudia."

"Come on, Dusty, we have to get over to Steve's or I'll be late for work."

"Okay!" Dustin calls over his shoulder a little too sweetly. He narrows his eyes as he conjures up his most threatening tone, "You know who doesn't get any lasagna because of you assholes and your cartoon cat-like appetites?"

Eddie grins, "Stevie isn't home, Dustybun!"

"Eddie!" he stomps his foot.

He cackles in the face of the kid's annoyance. And maybe also because Steve is literally here in the back room, likely still grumbling away with his cute-as-hell bed hair as he tries to go back to sleep.

Dustin turns back to his mother, "Mom! Eddie said Steve isn't home."

"He isn't?" she asks so innocently, Eddie's heart swells. Bless this woman, "Well where - oh," Eddie can see her clutching her proverbial peals, "Well, never mind. I'll just keep it in the fridge at work for the day."

He smirks for a moment before he turns his attention back to Dustin, who looks like he is trying to telepathically channel El's superpowers so he can smoke him to smithereens.

Eddie blinks and feigns interest, "Oh, I'm sorry, who doesn't get any of Claudia's mouth-wateringly delicious lasagna?"

He rocks back and forward on the balls of his feet as he bats his lashes waiting for a, surely deafening, response.

"Me!" Dustin screeches, "Mom is so busy making you guys food all the time that now when she makes lasagna, saying, 'Oh, this is for the boys' that doesn't include me - her son!"

"Well you'd better learn how to cook some for your hungry wittle self," he teases. If his hands were free, Eddie would lean forward and give Dustin a condescending pat on the belly. But alas, he has to settle for wiggling his fingers through the bag's straps as he smiles, "Toodles, Dusty."

He only just catches Dustin's gaping stare for a split second before he closes the door on him completely like he's poor Kay Corleone. He cackles away as he heads for the kitchen. Steve, though hard of hearing - especially when he's all bleary-eyed and half awake - must have heard at least some of it because he calls out a smile-filled, "Eddie?".

"Coming, pretty boy!" he calls down the hall.

He sets his bowl down on the bench and makes quick work of dividing four servings of lasagna between the fridge and freezer, both spaces crowded thanks to Claudia's cooking.

"Guess what we are having for dinner..." he coos as he makes a beeline straight for Steve once he heads back to the bedroom.

Meaning, he jumps on the bed and tickles his boyfriend silly.

"Whaaaaat?" Steve whines as he attempts to duck under the blankets before settling shoving a pillow over his head.

"Lasagna!" Eddie shouts to the heavens, fist-pumping while he's at it.

Steve slides the pillow off his face and stares at the ceiling with absolute dread.

"Oh no, not her lasagna!" he dry-sobs, clutching the pillow to his chest.

Eddie drops his hands in his lap, offended.

"You don't like Claudia's lasagna?" he recoils, clutching his own nonexistent pearls.

Steve shakes his head, looking both worried and apologetic as he admits, "It's just too much food, man. Like, it's a kind gesture. And I love Claudia and all but, it's only me at home. And the servings are huge!"

"Oh, please!" he scoffs, "You practically inhale food."

"Not that much!"

Eddie flops back onto the mattress, narrowly missing Steve who is totally crowding the single bed. He places his hands over his own belly, rubbing at it as he hums contentedly.

Steve props himself up on his elbow and slowly quirks his brow as he looks Eddie over with a worrying level of amusement. He watches as Steve's eyes flit to the Garfield plushie sitting at the foot of the bed - a gift he had forced his boyfriend to buy him in commemoration of their first weekend away together in Indy a few months back.

Steve pinches his nose and mutters, "Jesus Christ."

"What?" Eddie asks, genuinely curious.

Wait.

"I'm dating Garfield!" Steve exclaims before falling face-first onto him in a fit of giggles.

[wannaeatramyeon]

Seongji Yuk x Reader: Travel

G/N. Fluffy but a lil bittersweet.

"I was reading about Paris today." You say, breaking the silence and poking the fire with a stick.

Yeonji continues to stare into the flames, you think he might not have heard or is just ignoring your small talk until a full minute later, he asks if that's in Europe.

"Yep, France. It's meant to be really romantic. I wanna see it for myself."

You feel his eyes turning to you at your comment and your face flushing when he tilts his head, trying to work you out.

.

.

"Apparently nothing prepares you for the scale of the Grand Canyon," you mention during another night. This time with the full company of the Cheonliang gang.

"It would be cool to visit." You add, as Mary gives you a questioning look before her gaze then flickers to Yeonji.

"Sounds boring as shit." Vin snorts.

You snap "Nobody asked you!" at the same time as Yeonji responds with "I don't think so."

.

.

"Do you think we would make it all the way across the Great Wall of China?"

Seongji momentarily pauses skewering the fruit, his prep for tanghulu, to consider your question.

"I don't see why not."

.

.

"What do you think about Jeju Island?" You ask as Seongji prepares kimchi, surrounded by tubs of cabbage and seasoning paste.

He looks up and gives you a small shrug, "I don't."

You roll your eyes at his answer. "Well, do you want to visit together one day?"

It's the first time you've asked him directly.

All your talk about other countries and sights is fanciful at best and delusional at worst. But somewhere like Jeju is much closer to home. Somewhere penniless students and dropouts are more likely to make a reality instead of it being wishful thinking and hypotheticals.

Yeonji doesn't answer you straight away, there's very few things he answers straight away.

You know he's considering his life in Cheonliang, the home he has made for himself on the mountain. How difficult escaping this wretched place would be and how sweet freedom would taste.

Daunting, however.

Overwhelming to think of an entire world outside of this cult.

He settles on asking you a question back, "Is that where you want to go?"

You think of lush greenery, beautiful beaches, sand between your toes and eating delicious tangerines with Seongji by your side.

It sounds like heaven.

"Well I'd go anywhere with you," you avoid looking at his face with your admission, "but Jeju would be nice."

Oh.

Oh.

Seongji feels his heart pounding, and it’s nothing like when he has to calm himself down with a cocktail of pills to prevent himself from losing control.

There’s a warmth that spreads from his chest, a fluttering in his stomach.

He wants to grab your hand but focuses on his task instead.

"Ok."

Nevertheless, you catch a small smile settling over his face as he rubs the kimchi paste into the leaves.

"Ok." You agree, beaming.

Maybe visiting this summer will be nice, or more realistically the next. There’s an escape you need to plan and money you need to save.

But you’re in no rush. As long as you're with Seongji, you don't mind waiting.

[ataraxiaspainting]

The Country of the Blind.

Yan Blade x GN (Stellaron Hunter) Reader. 

Synopsis: You had one job. You already hear Kafka’s scolding from several galaxies away.

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, hostage situation/forced servitude, descriptions of corpses/violence, and manipulation.

Word Count: 1k.

*~*~*~*

“You were supposed to guard the cargo.”

Blade doesn’t move his legs a single inch toward or away from you. He continues to wipe the blood off his sword with two of his fingers, silent. You were used to violence and death at this point of your life; hell, you grew up surrounded by it all the time.

But… this… this is…

Unnecessary, and against the protocol Kafka had told both of you before setting you off on this hijacked ship. No bloodshed unless one of the employees acts up, and even then you two keep it to the bare minimum it takes for them to get back to work. We still need them.

“Do you have any idea what this means for me?” You glare, crossing your arms as you look down at the mush of what used to be a human at your feet. 

“Mm.” Blade murmurs.

“What the hell is all of this then?”

“You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

“Yes, I do,” You huff.

When Blade looks at you, you feel your heart drop to your stomach. He’s reverting from being mara-struck again, but the unnatural light in his eyes is still there, watching you.

Will… you be next?

No.

He wouldn’t.

“I told you back then, [First]. I’ll repeat it as many times as I need to.”

He crouches a bit – slowly, but uncaring of the corpse he steps on to get closer to you.

“You are no Kafka. You can’t control the mara.”

Those words hurt more than they should. But they are true. You’re no Kafka… but you are [First].

“So what? Those orders came directly from her. I am supposed to be your retainer. Stop forgetting that, Blade.” He stands back up, and you can swear your legs are about to give way to the bloodied floor below.

“The point still stands,” With a heavy stomp and a loud squelch, what is left of the worker’s skull is reduced to wet dust.

“It does-”

“However, I don’t forget you’re my retainer, [First], but… it seems you forget who I am, not the other way around.”

You look behind him, to the other poor worker frozen in terror who was supposed to be cleaning this shared room of yours.

“Room service can never be so bad that it would make anyone want to murder someone who makes bare minimum wage.”

“They messed up your order,” Blade rebuttals. “And they forgot to wash your sheets.”

“The point still stands.”

“It doesn’t.” His fingers go back to wiping his sword.

“You’re ridiculous.” You sneer. No response.

A silent warning to shut up for now. Kafka warned you of this when you first followed Elio’s path. Your ‘destiny’ as she and him like to call it. 

*~*~*~*

“All of us are each other’s destiny. Your hands are my hands. Your words are my words. We lend out our hearts and souls and gain unimaginable joy in return.”

Kafka smiles. You continue to bow to your superiors. Only four wanted to introduce themselves, but you’re aware that there are more. 

“You can stop bowing, [First],” Firefly says after a few moments of silence.

Thinking of it as another order, your spine is a straight line as you salute to her. “Yes, ma’am.”

“You… really don’t have to call me that.”

“Do you prefer sir?” You ask, your face and tone still fierce. 

“Just… Firefly, please.”

“Understood.” 

“The same for me. Just Silver Wolf is fine, feel free to give me a nickname though… if you’re good at Kaihon that is.”

“Pardon?”

“Sigh… another NPC…”

“I’m sorry, I am not following.”

“She’s talking about Blade,” Firefly points to the man staring from the far corner of the room.

“Bladie,” Kafka croons. “Come a little closer.”

*~*~*~*

“The tea just came with oat milk and not soy,” You grumble, crossing your arms. “It’s not a crime-”

“It’s their job to listen to directions.”

“No. That’s your job.” You correct. The janitors came just a few minutes ago once you rang the service bell. One of them fainted while another vomited. A fair reaction, all things considered. Not only are they forced to be on this ship per Kafka’s idea to make it easier to enter this planet’s underwater cities, but your partner just had to act up at any minor inconvenience. 

“I disagree.”

“Sil’s right. You’re… just… so selfish.” You spit out the last two words as if you were choking on sand. Perhaps even small remnants of shells, with how you couldn’t breathe for a fraction of a millisecond. 

“That is part of the job, is it not?” Blade asks. He turns his head to the side. The confusion seems genuine, so you decide not to use an insult as an answer this time around.

“We as Stellaron Hunters follow the Path of Finality. We… fight our destiny, yes. But we still look out for each other.” You rest your bandaged hand on your collarbone area. Blade’s eyes widened at the sight. You aren’t sure why, you had had this injury for a few system hours. Unless…

Unless… he didn’t notice?

Was… he really that distracted with gutting that servant and fantasizing about making swords out of their bones?

You decide not to think about it for now. Partnering up with Blade guarantees a path to the top, but how bumpy and perilous that path is is up to him and him alone. So, you keep quiet. Sip after sip of the chamomile tea, Blade’s breathing gets louder. Wait. No. Slower.

“They cleaned up the mess,” You say, looking out the window to see the beautiful coral reefs all around the ocean floor. “Their family is onboard this ship too, per Kafka’s orders. I’ll attend the cremation tomorrow if they would let me. As for you…” Blade looks at you no further, staring down at his unwashed, red hands. “Just please… guard Silver Wolf’s virus.”

He just nods.

Well.

That ends that, right?

[harryistheonlyoneforme]

Babe!! Can we get some Cheater H smut where he’s at the gym and he’s fucking Reader and then his wife comes in but he keeps going and she doesn’t notice? I need that so bad OMG

I Don’t Wanna Talk To You*

warnings: smut, cheating, dry humping, unprotected sex, praise, dumbification, lil bit of exhibitionism, creampie

pairings: cheater harry x reader

masterlist | harry styles masterlist

~

“Harry?” YN calls, closing his front door behind her as she steps out of her shoes and makes her way further inside. She takes a peek at every room inside on the first floor of the house, frowning when she doesn’t see him in any of them. His car is definitely in the driveway and his location definitely says he’s home, so she heads up to the bedroom to see if he’s there. She finds the bed unmade but his slippers are still there, so she’s left to believe he must be in the basement.

She quickly jogs quietly down the stairs, the sounds of grunts and pants leading her directly to where he is. She steps inside the open door of his home gym, and lo and behold, she finds Harry in all his glory, in the middle of a drop set of deadlifts. His muscles are on full display, his back flexing with each rep. He hasn’t noticed her yet, so she takes the time to admire, subconsciously squeezing her thighs together at the thought of him making those sounds because of her; straining above her the way he is now.

The grunts haven’t stopped, the noises only fuelling her crude thoughts about the man she’s been dating for a year now. It only continues for about three more minutes, and then she’s watching him as he walks over to the wall nearest him and places the dumbbells down, squatting down to take a sip of his water. Everything he does ignites a fire in her that’s unexplainable. Her thighs are beginning to ache with how hard she’s squeezing them together, and they damn near snap in half when he finally turns around and notices her, his eyes lighting up and a dimpled grin covering his face immediately.

His eyes trail over her body as he strides toward her, and her heart is beating so fast she thinks she’ll pass out right then. He doesn’t even try to hide it when his eyes linger on her chest before trailing down to her thighs and he’s smirking when he sees how tight she’s clenching them. The sight ignites something in him as well, his cock stirring slightly in the loose shorts he’d chosen to workout in, but he forces it down. When he reaches her he leans down and intentionally presses a sweet kiss to her lips, moving away before she can deepen it. It pulls a needy whine from her lips as she chases his with hers, and he gives in immediately, wrapping one hand around her throat as their lips meet again.

She’s shifting on her feet and moaning into the kiss, nearly melting into the floor when his tongue starts to explore her mouth. With his free hand he reaches for the front of her tube top and frees her breasts, making her groan as the cool air of the gym begins to harden them. He begins to roll one between his thumb and forefinger, separating their lips and pressing their foreheads together to gauge her reaction.

“M’glad you’re here, baby,” he coos, rubbing a thumb over the hardening bud. She smiles brightly at his words, thinking he’s finally going to give her what she’s literally craving right now, but he doesn’t. “Need a spot for these bench presses, my love. Can’t be getting stuck,” he finishes, a cheeky smile playing on his lips.

Her smile falters just a bit as he grabs her hand and leads her to where he’ll be working next, and then he’s climbing onto the bench. She’s just standing there sort of awkwardly for a moment, unsure of what he wants her to do. “Cmon, hop on top,” he teases, chuckling as her eyes go wide, but she does as he says.

As soon as she’s comfortable, he goes straight into his sets, and he can’t even lie and say that he doesn’t exaggerate his grunts a little bit because he knows what they do to her. The fact that she’s sat right atop his abs isn’t helping either, she can feel each and every strain of his muscles whenever he goes to push the bar back up. The thin grey biker shorts she’d worn today and forgone panties with don’t stand a chance with how wet she is, and when she feels his abs graze her swollen clit it takes everything in her not to cry out in pleasure.

Harry just acts as if he’s none the wiser, continuing his set like he doesn’t feel the small amount of wetness she’s left on his stomach, or the way she throbs each time his abs flex against her. It takes all of his restraint when he feels her give into the temptation and start to rock her hips down onto his abs, but he has absolutely none left when she just begins to moan shamelessly at the pleasure she’s experiencing.

He places the bar on the rack and moves his hands to her hips, helping her to move along his abdomen. Her moans have picked up so loudly that they’re echoing throughout the small room, and his cock has become rock hard in his shorts. All he can do is ignore the throbbing and watch YN as she’s in absolute bliss above him, her head now thrown back as she gets closer to her orgasm.

Deciding to make the experience even filthier than it already is, Harry speaks up. “Such a dirty girl,” he rasps, watching with hooded eyes as hers meet his. “So desperate f’me you’re just grinding on my tummy, poor thing. Just couldn’t wait, hm?” his teasing does nothing but urge her toward the edge, and she’s nodding with all her energy, unable to find the words to express what she’s feeling, but he knows. “I know, darling. Cum f’me. Cum all over me and I’ll give you what you need.”

Those words are all the encouragement she needed to cum, her hips stilling and her legs shaking slightly as her orgasm wracks her body, a loud cry of pleasure leaving her. She cums so hard tears form in her eyes and start to fall down her face as Harry helps her ride it out, gradually slowing the movement of her hips until she’s grounded.

She eventually comes around breathlessly, her chest heaving. Harry doesn’t waste another moment and he helps her off of him before he’s easing her onto the floor and on her back, climbing on top of her to bring their lips together. The angle provides him with the perfect angle to slot himself between her thighs and press his throbbing bulge against her, bucking his hips slightly at the feeling of her wetness beginning to leak onto his pants.

The action makes him graze her clit slightly, and she whines a bit in overstimulation before he’s pulling away to look down at her. He groans out loud and his cock twitches at the sight before him; her little grey shorts are absolutely drenched from her orgasm, the dark patch in the middle glistening in the fluorescent lighting of the gym.

He can’t help but bring his hands to her waistband and begin helping her out of them, and he becomes absolutely feral when he sees a string of her wetness connecting her to the shorts. Bringing them down past her ankles, he takes just a moment to admire how beautiful she is, and any other time he’d simply eat her out until she passed out, but he’s too desperate to feel her.

So he frees himself from his pants and immediately lines himself up with her, pressing his tip into her swollen pussy. Her eyes flutter closed at the stretch, and when he just slowly pushes in until their hips meet, she wraps her legs around his hips to press him as deep as he can go. They’re both already wrecked, so close to cumming and he hasn’t even started to fuck her properly. He gives her a bit to adjust before he pulls out and plunges back in just as deep as before, setting a punishing pace from the beginning.

YN’s moans and the sounds of their skin meeting are loud in his ears as the pace surprises her, and she can feel the light dusting of hair on his pubic bone grazing her clit, making the feeling that much better. Placing her hands on either sides of his head, she brings his lips to hers and moans against them as he literally fucks her like it’s their last time together. She can feel her orgasm burning deep in her belly, her back beginning to arch until they’re interrupted.

The sound of a phone ringing on the floor next to them disrupts the little bubble they've formed, and when Harry pulls away to look down at it, a dark smile takes over his features as he realizes it's his wife FaceTiming him. He flips it around to show YN and her eyes widen when she realizes he hasn't slowed down even a little bit. She goes to ask him if they should stop but he speaks up before she can, pressing himself inside of her as deep as he can, making her choke on a moan.

"If I answer this call, will you be a good girl for me and keep quiet until I finish?" he asks her, reaching up with the hand that's not holding his phone and pressing his thumb into her mouth, a satisfied hum coming from deep within his chest when she nods enthusiastically, immediately closing her mouth around the digit.

He's still pressed deep inside of her their hips flush as he swipes the button to answer, turning his camera off as the call begins to connect. The moment it does, he can't resist the urge to roll his eyes as he sees his wife sitting at the fanciest brunch restaurant in the city, sipping on what he knows is the start of her bottomless mimosas. He can't even imagine the hit their bank account has taken, because he knows she loves to go shopping with her friends to show off and they always end up at the expensive restaurant they reside at now.

"Harryyy baby. I miss youuu," she drawls, the way she says his name making his nose scrunch up in disgust as she gets closer to the camera and forms her lips into a pout. He resists the urge to gag and decides to take his mind off of it, pulling his thumb from YN's mouth and bringing it down to her swollen clit and pressing down firmly before he begins to rub slow circles right on the head.

He watches YN in pure adoration as she brings her lips into her mouth in an attempt to keep quiet, and he decides to make things even harder by pulling out of her until his tip is resting at her entrance before slamming back into her. He thinks he'll cum right then when her eyes roll back into her head and her hands flail around to find anything to ground herself, a small broken whimper leaving her lips from the sensation. He’s brought back to earth, though, by the annoying, high pitched sound that is his wife’s voice.

“Do you want to say hi to my friends, they really want to meet you someday. I was thinking maybe they could come over to the house today?” she questions, her voice hopeful. But Harry couldn’t care less, all he cares about is making YN cum again before he literally explodes inside of her without warning.

"No, I'm busy actually, about to eat. I'm gonna have to call you back when I'm done, okay?' he asks, not really waiting for an answer before he ends the call and tosses the phone to the side. He thinks he hears her call out an ‘I love you’ but he brushes it off quickly, picking up his pace and basking in the sound of YN's cry of relief at being able to moan as loudly as she wants. "Fuck, did so well for me," he praises, trying to stave off his orgasm until she cums, his mind turning to mush at how perfect she is and feels. She's just babbling wordlessly beneath him, the intensity of everything that's just happened only aiding in the building of her orgasm.

He’s fucking her so deep she feels like she can’t breathe, no thoughts in her head as he just continues to wreck her, his hands nearly bruising her hips with how tight he’s gripping them. He can feel her start to flutter around him a bit, making him groan at what’s to come.

“That’s, it, baby. Gonna cum for me?” he coos condescendingly, and all she can do is nod, making him chuckle at how wrecked she is beneath him. “My dumb little baby, hm? Can’t even think when I’ve got my cock in you,” he teases.

YN’s eyes are just squeezed shut at his words, her body going completely numb before tensing, her pussy locking down on him so tightly he struggles to move as her orgasm finally washes over her. The orgasm moves through her body in what feels like waves, small shocks causing her to twitch lightly. Seeing and feeling her in so much pleasure actually triggers Harry’s orgasm as well, and he buries himself so deep inside of her, his jaw dropped as a broken sob leaves his lips, his balls drawing up so tight he swears they’ll explode. Then the tension is leaving his body and he practically screams as cum starts to spurt from his reddened tip and deep into YN, painting her insides with his orgasm.

~

Thank you guys so much for reading! Feel free to leave any feedback you have, and as always, requests are open. Love you!!!

[theuntoldstorythatneedsawriter]

Disappointed 💣💧

Misa Rodriguez x reader

warning: angst 💣💔 (good ending ❤️‍🩹)

(my first language isn't english nor spanish, sorry for any grammar or spelling mistakes)

Summary :

Disappointed after a lost, Misa redirects unintentionally her anger on you and realises what she's done, only once you're gone.

These past few weeks were tense, to say the least, Misa had been training hard for her future game against Barca. Anxiety had been eating her up, and you could see right through her, how her shoulders were tense even sleeping, the sour mood she put up. You, of course, tried to help her relax, but all your tentatives were stopped by rude "leave me alone." You understood why she was so distance but that didn't stop it from hurting you.

As the final whistle blows, you could see her face filled with disappointment. 3 Goals had gone past her and you could feel how angry she is with herself. Misa ran straight into the changing rooms after a small talk with Mapi, visibly angry and disappointed.

Waiting for her in the parking lot, like you usually did, you saw Olga, one of her teammate, run towards you. You knew her cordially but never built a friendship, not seeing her really often outside of Misa training. Out of breath, she breafly explained how she absolutely needed you come take care of Misa. Panicked about what could be happening to her, you followed Olga into the stadium.

Head in her hands, sniffing, body shaking. This sight of your girlfriend made your heart ache. You were used to seeing her disappointed after a lost game, but never to this point.

My love ?

Your voice fulled of worry, you took her hands in yours, allowing you to see her face covered with tears. You softly kissed her head, putting your forehead against hers, whispering praises. Only to get pushed forcefully away of her, her eyes full of anger.

Déjame en paz, eres inútil.

Leave me alone, you're useless

You knew she didn't mean it or at least hoped she didn't, but after weeks of suffering through her attitude, it was just too much. You got up quietly, Misa face reflected a mixed of confusion and anger. You turned away from her and walked to the exit, stopping by the door, you let out a soft, almost whisper,

Te dejaré en paz si eso es lo que quieres. Me voy a Alexia a pasar la noche.

I will leave you alone if that's what you want. Im going to Alexia for the night.

Before closing it after you, you took a deep breath before going back to the parking, calling Alexia to come and get you. Alexia and you have been pretty close ever since Misa introduced you to each other, having many points in the comment. Misa would often joke about you leaving her for Alexia, which wouldn't be possible either way since you loved Misa to much and Alexia already had Olga and wasn't up for sharing her with anyone.

Alexia knew something went wrong, your face was red from tears, you talked the less possible, responding with yes or no. You went directly to bed, not eating dinner, which worried the woman even more.

By the time you woke up the next morning, your phone was fulled with missed calls and text from Misa. Knowing you couldn't escape the situation for eternity, you quickly left after breakfast, thanking Alexia and Olga for the hospitality of giving you a bed for the night and a delicious breakfast.

Your appartement door in front of you, though spiralling about if you should go in or not. You were cut off by the door slowly opening in front of you, Misa was looking down at the ground, tears on her cheek.

Alexia me llamó, lo siento muchísimo. Sé que no debí haber sido tan grosera contigo. Lo siento, mi amor, lo siento muchísimo. Te amo tanto que no puedo perderte, por favor, mi vida, haré lo que sea.

Alexia called me, i am so so sorry. I know i shouldn't have been so rude to you. I'm sorry, my love, im so sorry. I love you so much i can't lose you, please my live, i will do anything.

The only thing you could do was hug her and cry with her, her body against yours, ears filled with sniffled apologise as you comforted her.

She made it a point to show you how sorry she was for the next couple of days, preparing you breakfast, lunch, dinner, making all the house chores, taking you shopping, watching your favorite show 7 time in a row.

She wasn't perfect, but she tried, and that was more then enough for you.

[murdrdocs]

INTERVIEW 010

with. rafe cameron and jj maybank

includes. ghostface!rafe and jj, DUBCON, fem!reader, knife play, breaking and entering, unprotected p n v sex, mean!rafe and jj (obvi), reader isn't aware of their identities

→ kinktober masterlist

The knife that reflects the low light, pointed directly at you, should cause alarm. It should at least be the cause of the spike in your heart rate, instead of the two masked men who wield it. It should make your mouth dry, instead of increasing saliva production. 

You should be worried about your current position. About your current predicament. 

Kneeled on the carpeted floor of your childhood home, hands politely, and voluntarily, placed in your lap, your entire body lax and complacent even with two imposing figures looming over you, masked and dressed in all black combat gear. 

They stare at you, silent, calculating, eyes invisible beneath the ghost face and the black cloth that covers the oblong eye slits. The last time they spoke to you, – the first barking a hard command of “get on your knees” and the second cooing a condescending praise of “that’s it” when you did as told – you heard their voices through a modulator, designed to disguise possibly the most telling aspect of them. 

The distortion of it shouldn’t have turned you on as much as it did. But nothing about this situation should have been as arousing as it is. 

Two masked men, completely unidentifiable, breaking into your home and holding a knife pointed at you with intent to use, shouldn’t be attractive. But between your legs is soaked, gray panties housing a dark gray patch right in the center of them. 

You didn’t have the thought to slip a pair of pants on after your shower earlier, leaving you in a tiny tee and your underwear, no bra to cover your hardening nipples from the perpetrators that stand before you. 

They notice it, you can tell they do, it’s impossible not to notice. Yet they don’t say anything. 

Instead, the one on the left, the taller of the two, leans down and raises a gloved hand. You flinch, but there’s no reason to, his hand raising to your chest instead of your face. His thumb and pointer finger single themselves out, closing around your pert nipple. He squeezes, as if he’s testing you, and you hiss. When his thumb grazes over the area instead of pinching it, you don’t know if it’s a gift, if you’d passed his test or not. 

You’re still unaware of your status when the other circles behind you, hand coming to your front view to cup your chin. You watch the glove come into view, eyes instead going up when he pushes your head back, making it so you look straight at him. The blank stare of the mask menacing, yet you’re not afraid. 

Instead, you shuffle on your knees, rubbing your thighs together in a pathetic attempt to receive some sort of friction. It doesn’t work, but you succeed in getting their attention, two pairs of snickers sounding from either side of you. 

“Give her what she wants,” the one behind you suggests to the other, the words lacking the harshness that an order should. Instead, it’s a simple suggestion, one you hope the other decides to take.

When he does, getting what you want has never felt so good. 

Not even the pain in your knees could dull this feeling, skin scraping along the rough texture of the overpriced rug your parents love so much as you attempt to hold yourself up. One of your hands digs into the black fabric of the denim jeans that one of your assailants wears, the other pressed flat into the harsh fabric beneath you. 

Your hand placements does nothing to steady you, though, not when the masked figure behind you is fucking you like this. Raw, something that only concerned you for an astonishingly brief second before you let your thoughts go in favor of reveling in the pleasure. Pleasure which multiplied once the figure in front of you had his cock down your throat. 

The living room is a mixture of sounds; the deep groans from the one behind you mixed with his insistent praises that degrade you all at the same time, the almost-whimpers from the one in front of you as he holds a hand at the back of your neck to force you to take more and more, and your pathetic garbling as you don’t bother attempting to muffle your own sounds while you take it all in. 

You’ve never been more full, nor have you ever been more fucking aroused. You can hear your own arousal over your slurping, pornographic squelches of bare skin abusing your gummy walls. You can feel it dripping around you, the skin of your inner thighs wet and warm. 

In a risky move, you shakily raise one of your hands to bring it between your legs, running your fingers over your clit with a touch that has your eyes rolling back. 

“Look at her. She’s really getting off to this, huh?” The voice behind you is distant as you start to rub a little faster, tight circles clearly intended to get yourself off. 

“Gonna make yourself cum, sweetheart? Hm? Getting off to two men breaking into your apartment and having their way with you.” He’s mean with it, and you’re sure the words are spoken to put you down, maybe fill you with shame and make you falter a bit. 

Instead, they do the opposite, sending you over the edge in an orgasm that has your legs shaking, body practically collapsing to the floor. 

They follow you to the ground, because although you may be done, it doesn’t mean they are. 

[takusan-no-ai]

You need a lollipop

PAIRING: Ellen x Male Reader (Romantic) (Fluff)

SUMMARY: (Y/N) is a workaholic, and his girlfriend Ellen will force him to take a break.

“I saw this one SUPER cute nail polish online yesterday!” Ruby said while walking with her friends around campus. It was break time and so the four friends, Ruby, Monna, Lynn, and Ellen, decided to just walk and talk outside.

“Really? Send it to me later…,” Ellen replied. Monna and Lynn were having a mini convo of their own, and everyone was happy. Key word, was.

A large group of boys, likely in the track team as Ellen noted, came gunning straight for them. The girls were able to dodge, but the boy in front of them with his face in a book didn’t. And so he crashed right on top of Ellen, who was too tired to dodge again.

They both rubbed their foreheads, while Ellen’s friends were giggling in the background. She looked at them confused for a moment, and then she looked at the boy straddling her; (Y/N), sits in the seat at the front of class, voted most likely to be an overachiever. She also kinda liked him. Not a lot. Only a little. Really, just a little…

Her friends were aware of this, and only helped her up after the poor boy started freaking out about it. “Don’t worry, it’s those jocks fault, not yours. Besides, everyone else is fine.” Moona calmed the situation down naturally.

Ellen didn’t make eye contact with (Y/N), her face starting to get too warm for comfort after the whole ordeal. And she just knew her friends would tease her endlessly; the thought alone made Ellen puff out her cheeks.

Some days had passed since then, with Ellen’s eyes always drifting over towards (Y/N) during class. It wasn’t until she saw him especially tired that she grew worried of his health. Though she’d never admit it directly.

He was sitting at his desk, eyes heavy with bags, hair messy, and the tips of his fingers red from the hard grip of his pencil as he scribbled down unintelligible notes. Ellen walked over to him, her tail swaying slightly back and forth. She looked around the room, making sure her friends weren’t watching.

“Hey.” She said

He shook slightly, immediately turning around to look at her. “So-sorry. How long have you been there?” (Y/N) asked. Ellen rolled her eyes and handed him a lollipop. He made a confused expression.

“You clearly need one.” She thrusted it into his hand and walked away. Before she could flee the scene he grabbed her hand and forced eye contact with her.

“Thank you. My name’s (Y/N), what’s yours?” He asked, letting go of her.

“…hmm…Ellen.”

From then on the relationship progressed smoothly, and before Ellen knew it (her friends already betted on it happening) they both started dating.

Of course, Ellen still took note of his constant over working habits; she honestly never understood it. Why didn’t he sleep more often? Sleep is great. It recovers energy, can give sweet dreams, and lets you skip hours of the day. What wasn’t there to love about it?!

So, to keep him from being in an early grave, Ellen took it upon herself to graciously expend her own energy and keep him away from work. Karaoke, skipping class, listening to concerts, even just sleeping. It didn’t always work, but she did notice a change in habits with (Y/N).

He was more willing to take breaks, and would often text Ellen about his excitement to spend more time with his girlfriend.

“Hey pup, ready for a movie night?” He asked cheerfully; his eyes were burning bright, appearance clean enough where he could be mistaken for a celeb, and a cute smile to boot.

Ellen puffed out her cheeks, this was getting too much. Love was too energy draining, especially with (Y/N); her heart kept pounding every time she’s with him, which makes her exhausted, but she likes it so she stays, which makes her really exhausted. It was a never ending cycle. And yet she still loved it.

Ellen sat down next to him, placing her tail on his lap so he could hug it. “Yeah, movie nights are only fun when I’m with you.”

- Fin

[elliespeach]

no chances | ellie williams

˗ˏˋ"scared yet?" ´ˎ˗

pairing: ellie x afab reader synopsis: you and ellie are on rival volleyball teams and your dangerously competitive nature gets the better of the two of you. warnings: 18+, foul language, sexual descriptions, men (the coaches), eventual smut (ellie n reader) i changed the rules a bit, ik liberos have rules tehy gotta follow but to hell w that for the plot author note: the name comes from the twenty one pilots song!! i lowkey had sm fun writing this, i watched womens volleyball as i did and yall....volleyball ellie has my heart fr. this is gonna be a series n im excited to see where it goes wordcount: 2k ishhh

ellie pressed her feet flat to the floor, eyes locked on the other side of the net. she was behind her usual middle blocker, her arms raised up to align themselves with her stomach, her hands interlocked and her thumbs pressed together. she waited patiently, the sweat dripping off of her eyebrow and down to the gym floor. 

she sized up the team in front of her, ellie’s team played them often as they were rival colleges, especially for women's volleyball. her eyes scanned the team, the coach called a player in from the back row, the girl placed herself on the bench with a solemn look expression. that’s when ellie saw you emerge from the far side of that same bench, once previously blocked by standing bodies. she sighed heavily and muttered “fuck.” to herself as she watched you approach your coach. a pep in your step, and ellie rolled her eyes. you took the place of the previous girl in the back row, grinning ear to ear.

ellie was hoping you weren’t playing today, the amount of times you two had gone against each other was uncountable. both of you being exceptional liberos caused a rivalry of it’s own between the two of you to manifest over months. she couldn’t stand you and it was because you were just as good and just as passionate as she was but she refused to admit it, even to herself. despite your fierce competitive nature with ellie turning sour, you thought it was funny to taunt her. her expression would change in a heartbeat, and you knew it got to her before she composed herself. but you’d be lying if you said she didn’t get to you either because she most definitely did. 

you caught ellie’s eye and waved teasingly to her, mouthing a slow and pronounced, “good luck.” and ellie darted her eyes away, not wanting to be distracted by you. she shook her head from the thought of you and heard the familiar smack of the serve from your team. the ball went up and over the net flawlessly. her team kept the ball up, passing it back over with ease and ellie glanced at you while you stared down the ball with focused eyes. your setter mistakenly hit the ball at an angle which sent you diving to the floor to keep it up, shooting it straight back into the air and the outside hitter sent it back to ellies team. 

it went on like this for a while, sending the ball bouncing between the two sides of the court. the score quickly became nearly tied at twenty-two points. for a quick second, ellie caught you staring at her and her head cocked to the side, feeling her competitive nature step forward. “scared?” she mouthed tauntingly, a fake pout splayed across her face. focusing back to her team, ellie turned with the surge of confidence flowing through her, the ball came directly to her from the setter and she took her opportunity. from the back row, ellie jumped straight up, her hand connected with the ball with a hard slap, sending it flying right at you as if on purpose. she had distracted you well enough, you fumbled, the ball bounces off your hands and to the floor.

her teammates shouted in triumph, giving her several highfives and she looked back at you through the white net as they cheered, “sorry.” she mouthed again, her shoulders coming up to shrug dramatically. your face turned into a snarl, determined to do the same back to her. ellie’s team served next, shooting the ball up and over the net and it somehow went directly to you. you set the ball to your outside hitter beside you, and ellie heard you shout “back! back! back!” indicating to return the ball to you. with this ellie lowered herself, readying for a strong spike towards her head, she didn’t know much about you but she knew you didn’t miss. 

as you jumped up, your arm swung back furiously but as your hand came in contact with the ball, you hit it lightly, barely tipping it over the edge of the net. ellie’s team was caught off-guard, missing the ball and letting it fall to the floor. ellie bit her bottom lip in frustration, resetting her stance and glaring at you up and down. your uniform was form-fitting, of course your black shirt standing out among your teammates making it all the more easy for her. you didn’t meet ellie’s gaze once while your team celebrated their small victory and that upset her more than if you had.

there had been times during previous games that you two had gotten in arguments across the court, resulting in sitting out for the rest of the game. “you did that on purpose!” ellie would shout, her finger pointed directly at you accusingly, stepping towards the net. “only because you did it first!” you would scream back, your teammate holding you back from approaching the net while ellie egged you on, shouting obscenities that you so kindly returned to her.

 it was always childish arguments like this, and your teammates could feel the tension building on the court as the game went on, everyone was competitive but you and ellie took it to another level that made people uncomfortable. “pretentious bit–” ellie’s coach would approach her, cutting her off in fear of being disqualified. “oh, i'm pretentious?” you would bypass your team, walking up to the net furious. “you’re a fuc–” your team pulled you back and kept you quiet for the same reasons. 

nearing the end of the game, ellie was sweating hard, her auburn hair sticking to her forehead from the hot gym. she watched as you readied yourself, your arms moving up swiftly and you flicked your head to the side to remove the hair that was plaguing your face. she was staring for a little too long, stuck in some kind of haze, her ears rang and her vision went fuzzy. her teammates moved in a blur around her as the ball landed on her side of the court and she snapped her head, regaining her focus quickly, moving her hands to set the ball. it fell short and ellie threw herself forward on her stomach to reach it. she managed to bounce it but not anywhere near where she had to, her teammate fell short to get it and it fell to the ground. 

ellie cursed under her breath, bringing herself to her feet. she earned a look from her teammate beside her and she shrugged, annoyed. a dangerous look plastered on her face she scanned through the net for the black shirt. she spotted you fist-bumping the girl next to you and as if you felt ellie’s eyes on you, your head turned caughting her gaze. you smirked, a confident gaze settling over your eyes that ellie could see from afar. her tongue pressed against her cheek, trying to keep her cool like her coach instructed her to do. but as you two stared into each other you mouthed a steady, “scared yet?” a dumb look on your face as you mocked her. 

ellie bubbled over, her hands balled at her fists and she stormed up to the net. her cheeks were on fire and her chest felt extraordinarily heavy. her coach was on his feet, but he couldn’t reach ellie in time before she opened her mouth. “you know what? fuck you!” she shouted, making sure you heard her. 

you did, loud and clear. you practically fought your teammates to get to the net, only a few feet separating the two of you. your chest was heaving between the anger that filled you and the game you’ve been playing. ellie’s white libero shirt piercing your eyes compared to her team's mutual black shirts. “i didn’t do anything you didn’t fuckin’ do!” you yelled back with such aggression that it made your voice hoarse. 

you watched as ellie’s coach grabbed her arm but she didn’t break eye contact with you, her hateful stare intensifying. her coach dragged her away and you turned, your heart beating even faster than before. “you’re out of the game, williams!” her coach tells her sternly, ellie tried to rebut but he told her to sit on the bench. she groaned, rolling her eyes and sitting down with a huff. 

you watched as this happened a small smile crept onto your lips as she sat down, ellie never looking in your direction. your head turns to your coach who is approaching you. “you too, go!” the coach says with conviction, pointing his finger to the bench on your side of the court. your smile disappeared within an instant. 

“i didn’t say anything!” you try to defend yourself, but your coach just shakes his head and repeats for you to leave as well. you throw yourself onto the seat, not daring to look at ellie for the rest of the game, and ellie avoids your gaze too.

the game didn't last much longer, within thirty minutes everyone was loaded on the buses to head back to their campuses. as ellie’s team waited for a few more people to show up on the bus, she sat in her seat to go home, wanting to desperately just forget this whole day so far despite her team ending up winning – just without her. the panging feeling of her bladder became too strong to ignore anymore and the bus ride back was over an hour. as her team celebrated from the seats, she snuck by and off the bus back into the building where they had just played. 

she practically ran down the hallways to the nearest bathroom, pushing the door open and going straight to relieve herself. she heard someone in the stall beside her, it didn’t bother her until she was washing her hands and you came out of the stall. you stared at her in the mirror while approaching the sink next to her, remaining quiet.

you were wearing a large gray hoodie, similar to one that ellie has tucked in her closet somewhere. your hoodie came down below your shorts, hiding them. ellie felt strange seeing you this way, your usual hard exterior being present in your uniform. but looking at you now, all comfortable and sleepy, ellie felt a pang in her chest and before she could stop herself her mouth opened. 

“sorry ‘bout that.” she spoke calmly, even though her stomach was turning over inside of her. you glanced at her, her usual black shirt replaced with a gray windbreaker and black sweatpants though her hair remained in the same half up half down style, her demeanor felt different but with your team losing, especially since you couldn’t even do anything, you were still angry. 

“sure,” was all you said in response, turning back to the sink to finish washing your hands. ellies expression hardened, her arms crossing over her chest. 

“really? you can’t just accept my apology?” her voice raised in defense, pivoting her body towards you. 

“i don’t wanna,” you said, keeping your gaze on your hands in the sink, over washing your hands by a mile. 

ellie shoved your shoulder, not hard but enough to make you look at her. “fuck you, dude!” 

you shoved her back, your face growing hot because of her yet again. “no, fuck you, dude!” you mocked, your patience going thin and your heartbeat rising in your chest, heaving you pointed a finger in her face, continuing your rant. “you’re too fucking competitive.” 

ellie scoffs and reaches up to grab your hand, lowering it down between you two. her breathing was getting aggressive with her anger, she moved her face closer to yours, not letting go of you. “me? have you met you!” she all but shouted in your face. you noticed just how close she was to you, breathing heavy and a daring look in her eyes. butterflies erupted in your stomach instantly, feeling so much anger towards the girl in front of you it felt overwhelming but this time you felt it between your legs. ellie could see your chest pounding up and down with force and in a weak moment she glanced at your lips. 

when her eyes darted back to yours she found them bouncing between her eyes and parted lips. without thinking she quickly let go of your hands and brought them up to your face, pulling you into a deep, messy kiss. 

the kiss intensified as your hands found her hair in a frenzy and you both exhaled through your noses loudly. ellies hands left your face, wrapping around your back to pull you against her. your body smashed into hers as she parted your lips with her tongue, slipping it in roughly. for a reason unbeknownst to you, you rolled your body on hers and ellie grunted into your mouth, though it sounded like she was stifling a moan. 

she pushed your back to the wall, her tongue still flicking around your mouth furiously. her hands roamed your body, slipping beneath your sweatshirt. her warm hands planted themselves firmly around your figure as your fingers still danced in her hair. ellie bit your bottom lip softly, resulting in a moan escaping from your mouth and she gripped down on your skin. 

the sound of the traditional goodbye honks from the buses separated the two of you fast. you looked to ellie with an unreadable expression who forced her eyes to be anywhere but on you. the realization slowly hit you and you jump past her. ellie turns her body, watching you run out of the bathroom and into the hallway. it only came to her then that the buses were leaving and she cursed before running after you. 

you exited the main doors, throwing them open and not bothering to hold them for ellie who smashed through them only a few seconds after you. ellie came up beside you, panting from all the exertion and watched as the buses turned onto the street, leaving the both of you alone. “all my stuff is in my seat, fuck!” ellie remarked, her voice rising ever so slightly. 

you sigh beside her, your tone filled with anger, “me fucking too.”

part two

[norizz-nation]

Hi can you do a Carlos x French reader smut I want the dynamic to be daddy and baby girl but can you don’t do directly the smut like can you explain before what happened to have them in bed if you can example what they were doing before🥹🫶🏻thx you’re the best🥰💓🫶🏻

Thank you so much sweetheart and I hope I can reach your expectations ❤️

My little angel ❤️

Summary: your parents finally allowed you to go abroad on a vacation and you decided to go to spain where things took a quick turn

Warnings: nsfw, 18+, daddy kink, size kink, choking, praise kink

“Please mum! Im 22 now! I can go out alone” you stated to your mum as she kept saying no for quite a few times. You then let out a frustrated sigh as your mum said “well just dont do anything illegal and dont get in trouble okay?” you then rolled your eyes and couldn’t help but laugh at what she just said. “Aweh mum dont worry” you said as you hugged her tightly.

Honestly you were loving Spain, the weather, the people, the atmosphere everything was so different than what its in France. It has been 2 days since you’re here, loving your sweet little trip. After roaming around in Madrid for a while you wanted to go to this museum although you didn’t like museums that much.

As you went there you sort of felt lost because you didn’t actually see the museum map before going inside which ended up you wandering here and there. All this time there was this man who was examining every move of yours from distance. You suddenly bumped to a man when you turned around and apologized immediately as you looked up at him who was looking at you with a smirk on his face. “You look like youre lost in this town, lost in this museum. Do you need help baby girl?” He asked, his tone was so polite and gentle. “Baby girl?” You asked as you furrowed your brows and crossed your arms together. He then chuckled at your question and started nodding his head. “I mean, you look really young and innocent. May i know what your name is?” He asked as he looked at you straight in the eye. “Im y/n not baby girl” you said as you rolled your eyes at him and he smiled. “Im carlos by the way. But you dont seem like you’re from here. Are you?” He asked as you shook your head. “No no im actually french” you said. “Wow that’s interesting, i can show you around baby girl” carlos said as he pointed at the main gate to signal you to leave with him and you just smiled.

The whole evening was fun with him, every little jokes he cracked made you laugh so hard. Teaching you a little bit of spanish in between your conversations with him. Everything just seemed great with him. But the “baby girl” nickname just stayed there. “Why do you keep calling me that? I have a name” you said as you laughed a little. “Because you are a baby girl. So beautiful and innocent for this world” he said as he got closer to you. His lips just a few inches away from yours as you started to feel the heat rush through your body. Somehow his presence was so powerful that you could just give yourself to him. You parted your lip a little as you tried to lean in but Carlos grabbed your face and snapped you back to reality. “Oh, you try to be so wild in front of me but inside you’re just a sweet little angel, so naive and sweet” he said as his thumb started to caress your lips as the need inside of you grew much more than before.

“Youre so innocent baby girl. Oh the things I would love to do to you, right now” he said that was just like a whisper in your ear. “Like what?” You asked as you looked up at him with doe eyes. “Oh you’ll know soon, you’ll know” he said as he came more closer, letting your heart beat faster than before. Your whole body stiffened as he felt him pull away and smirk just inches away from your lips, teasing you to the point where you couldn’t take it anymore as you let out a frustrated sigh. “Being frustrated wont help baby girl, come with me” he said as he turned around to look at you with a cocky smile on his face.

The fragrance his house had was so warm and welcoming as you sat on the couch and carlos brought a bottle of wine and placed it on the table. After a couple of drinks you started to feel carlos’ cologne more in your nose. You just wanted to wrap your hands around him. The tension grew stronger between you two.

Carlos then came closer to you as he placed his huge hands on your thigh chuckling at the sight that you are so small. "Fuck baby girl, you're really small for me. But dont worry im gonna make it fit in your hole. All your holes" he whispered in your ear as shiver ran down your spine and you rubbed your thighs together. "God, look at you. Already needy." he said as he looked down and looked back at you as he came closer to lips and brushed his lips with yours causing you to open your mouth a little but that didn’t help. You then whined and groaned as you looked at him with puppy eyes. “You really think youre gonna get what you want from me just by whining? Not at all angel. Use your pretty little mouth of yours” he said as his hand wrapped around your neck, choking it lightly first then tightening the grip as you gulped at the sight in front of you. He then pulled your t-shirt up and dropped it on the floor as he wrapped his hands around your waist to lift you up and position you properly on your back, as he groaned at the fact that his hands fit perfectly around your waist. “God, even your waist is smaller than my hands” he said as he trailed his finger down your lower abdomen as you started to squirm in his touch again.

He then tucked in your pants and you tried to push it down by grabbing his hand but he was strong enough to stay still and not push it down. “Use. Your. Words” he said, his tone so cold as you whined out. “I-i want you” you managed to say. “No its not good enough baby girl. Tell me properly” he said as he unzipped your pants slowly. “I want y-you to fuck me. P-please” you said whining as you ran your hands over his chest. “Yeah thats more like it” he said as he grabbed your hand and kissed it. He then pulled your pants down along with your underwear and did the same with himself.

Carlos brushed his tip at your entrance that made wet sounds from your pussy as a string of slick connected with his dick to your pussy as he groaned at the sight. “Fuck baby girl, your pussy is so small for me. Can you take it like a good little girl you are? Take it all for me?” He said as he caressed your face and you nodded impatiently. He then went inside of you slowly and stayed still for a moment until you started to rock your hips against him. At first his thrusts were slow and gentle but he went deep inside of you every time. “Fuck carlos, stop teasing me” you said as you bucked your hips up. “Beg for it baby girl” he said as he smirked at you. “F-fuck me harder daddy p-please!” You pleaded as he choked you again and kissed your ear before saying “daddy huh? youre that needy?” you just nodded as he went faster and you dig your nails in his forearms. “Fuck fuck f-fuuuck yes!” You screamed out.

Carlos then pulled your legs above his shoulder and kissed your ankles as he continued to fuck you. The heat between you two, the intensity, everything was just too much to handle. “You look like an angel baby girl” he said as he groaned. “My little angel” he threw his head back as his breathing got heavier. “Daddy i-im gonna c-cum so bad, fuck” you said as your back started to arch uncontrollably. “Me too baby girl, me too” he said breathlessly. You both got down from your high when carlos kissed you, so softly that it made you melt. His kiss was so sweet and gentle.

“Wanna watch the stars?” He asked out of nowhere as he kissed your forehead. “Yes” you said that was like a whisper. You both then went to the terrace as you snuggled in his arms and watched the stars. His finger twirling in your back as he rested his face on your head. “When are you gonna go back to France?” He asked softly, his voice sounded like he wanted you to stay there forever, with him. “Tomorrow evening” you said as you looked up at him and saw his face froze as he said nothing. You sat back up with a concerned look on your face. “I can come visit you again if you want carlos” you said as you cupped his face and his face started to fall. His eyes begging you to stay. “Or maybe I can go visit you” he said, his voice started to break a bit. You smiled and nodded. “Yeah exactly” you said. “Promise me you’ll come back again” carlos said as he came closer to you. You then hugged him tightly “i promise carlos” you reassured him as you felt tear in the corner of your eye.

A/N: requests are open! feel free to ask what you want me to write! luv you ❤️

[itsabouttimex2]

Platonic Yanderes

(Endeavor, Hawks, Best Jeanist)

Enji Todoroki:

His own child, whom he previously spurned.

He regrets it. God, he regrets it so much. The memories seethe inside him like an angry scar, pulsing in pain.

“I made dinner, Dad! I knew you’d be out late, so I stayed up to make sure you had something to eat!” He doesn’t sit down to to eat or say thank you. He grabs the plate from your hands and stomps off to his own room to eat, casting a baleful glare to you as he does. At least you’re good for something, he thinks.

He doesn’t think like that anymore. Do you know that, Y/N? You are worth so much more than he ever let you know.

“Hey, dad. You wanna go out jogging? Fuyumi grew out of her old tracksuit and gave it to me, and I wanted to see if-“

You cut yourself off when he glares at you, a withering look on his face. He stares down at you, a sneer turning the corners his lips. “You wouldn’t be able to keep up with me,” he snaps at you, walking away and slamming the door as he exits.

But you never actually thought you’d be able to keep up. You knew you’d fall behind. You just wanted to spend time with him, didn’t you? He’ll spend as much time with you as he can from now on, Y/N.

“Do you want to train with me? I’d be happy to put up some targets for you!” You smile, tiny bits of ice sparking on your hands. That smile doesn’t reach your eyes anymore, not when you’re talking to Dad. “There’s nothing you can put up that I wouldn’t melt right through. You don’t have the skill.” As expected, he turns on his heel and leaves.

He wonders how long it’s been since the two of you talked. You were there, reaching out a hand to him, trying to get through to his heart. You made offer after offer, and he struck them down without hesitation. Even without a scrap of love of affection, you kept trying to help him become a better person.

“Why didn’t I let you help me?”

He asks himself this question again and again, looking down on you. He always looked down on you, for being weak or sentimental or distracting.

Now he’s doing it in a more literal sense, staring at your feverish form on the bed.

Your severe sickness had been the perfect excuse to squirm back into your life. He comes in with nearly a dozen grocery sacks held in his arms, a steely and determined look in his eyes. Before you have a chance to slam the door in his face (not that you strength to do so right now) he walks into the house, heading straight to the kitchen.

“What are you-“

“Hush. Not a word, Y/N.” He’s dressed in his own expensive and tailor-made version of casual, not that it makes him any less intimidating. He places the bags on your table, and walks directly towards you, his hand moving to cover your forehead. He grimaces.

“You’re burning up, Y/N. Get to bed. Now.”

“You need to-“

He grabs your shoulders and spins you around, marching you to your room, checking the rooms one by one as he walks with you. Once he finds it, he pushes you towards it and pulls back the covers. “Get in.”

You’re frozen stiff, caught off guard by the sudden turn of events, your estranged father busting in with groceries and literally marching you in around your own home, room by room. That pause gives him the chance to push you onto the mattress, tucking the blanket around you. “Good,” he says, sounding satisfied. “I’ll make you something to eat. Don’t move.”

He pulls the top off of a can of microwaveable soup, dumping the contents into a plastic bowl. He had wanted to just buy you something gourmet and professionally made, but Fuyumi had talked him out of it, saying you’d be better off with something simple and easy to eat. That you would be better off with him.

So here he is, a giant man trying his best to not break a tiny spoon as he pushes it to your lips. Now that you’re actually lying down instead of trying to work in your weakened state, your body finally gives out, entirely sapped of the energy you’d need to get up or tell him off for coming in unannounced and uninvited. With nothing else to do and a body that won’t listen to your commands, you let him him feed you.

It’s a tiny step forward, the first of so many to come. And he won’t stop until you call him your father again.

——

Keigo Takami:

A young and innocent member of the League of Villains.

“I really appreciate you stopping by, Mr.

Hawks.”

You slide him a drink, sweet and fizzy and non-alcoholic. You’ve never actually served him anything with alcohol, not even by accident. He refuses to drink it, keeping himself sober and fully focused at all times.

You appreciate it, because it means one less grown man to babysit, one less puddle of vomit to mop, one less fight to break up.

And he appreciates that you don’t ask questions or try to convince him otherwise, because it means that he can do his job much easier.

“Did you make me something new, kiddo?”

“Yeah, I did! Club soda and cherry syrup and whipped cream!”

“Looks delicious, kid.” He takes a sip, and damn, it’s actually pretty good. “And tastes even better than it looks,” he praises, buttering you up in a way that aren’t used to. The other members, the real members of the League aren’t so kind. You’ll get an errant compliment or two, but mostly you gets nods, grunts of approval, and impatient demands for refills.

But Mr. Hawks is relaxed and charming and actually talks to you outside of ordering drinks. It’s easy to trust him.

“Got any news for me, kid?”

Maybe a little too easy, with the way you spill out all the gossip you’ve overheard, bits of information that you would’ve never considered critical or even important. And all the while, he grins and sips his drink, listening very, very close.

You’re betraying your own teammates, and you don’t even know it, he thinks to himself. And why? Because you’re just a good kid, a lonely kid? A sweet and polite kid, in spite of being surrounded by literal killers and remorseless criminals.

More than anything, he feels bad for you.

Especially when he catches you drinking.

You sniffle, a red handprint outlined on your cheek, and bruising from a rough hand encircling your wrist. You tip the shot glass back, trying to take a another sip.

But something soft blocks your lips, soaking up the alcohol before it can enter your mouth. You set the shot glass down, opening your red-rimmed eyes. A feather, hanging midair, separating your lips and the glass.

“You’re still a bit young for that kind of coping, kid. Give it a few more years, and then you can start.”

His voice is soft, and he takes your wrist to turn it over, looking at the outlines left behind by rough, grasping fingers.

“Who was it?”

A flash of something fierce and angry, protective and nurturing. His eyes sharpen and then that sharpness fades, gone in an instant. He switches to laid-back and unaffected in a moment.

“C’mon. Just one word, and I’ll make sure they don’t mess with you again. Can’t have my favorite bartender making my drinks with a bruised hand, after all.”

You give him a name, fighting back tears. You aren’t supposed to cry. You aren’t supposed to break. You need to be strong and useful or you’ll get thrown out, nowhere to go and no one who wants you.

No one who wanted you until you met Hawks, that is. He’s sure you’ll know that soon, when these villains are brought to justice and he takes you into his personal custody, under the guise of rehab.

He hooks an arm around your shoulders and when you lean into his side, starved for warmth and comfort, he slips a feather into your pocket. A sign that he’s there, that you aren’t alone.

You won’t be alone again.

——

Tsunagu Hakamada:

A shy, insecure UA student who performs well at the Sports Festival.

You aren’t the usual kind of student he’d take under his wing. You stumble and stutter and whimper and then you crumble and hide yourself away. You have no self-esteem, no confidence, no sense of personal worth.

But your fighting prowess is impossible to deny or ignore. You might not have any self-worth, but you’ve got enough skill to make up for it.

“Fifth place”, he starts, while combing through your hair, “Is very impressive, especially for the school in question. You went up against skilled and varied opponents, and beat out all but four. Be proud.”

He doesn’t see the need to use Fiber Master on you. One single command of “sit” had you on the stool, holding as still as you could while he fixed your unruly hair, swept and tangled by the wind. You are certainly a well-behaved student, listening closely to his words, blushing at his praise.

“I was scared,” you mumble, in a sudden show of honesty. “I thought I was gonna mess up in front of everyone. With all those cameras. And everyone watching.” He’s won you over quickly, his unshakably calm yet supportive and patient personality providing you with the comfort you need to open up to him.

“And you did not. That is admirable.”

You blush a little deeper. Clearly, you are receptive to praise and positive attention. Building you up as a properly confident student and hero-in-training becomes one of his priorities.

He finds himself enjoying your presence. Something as simple as children running up to you to ask you about the sports festival, asking you to show off your Quirk for them has you looking up to him for approval, for his consent. He gives you a nod, carefully regarding your actions. You do decently with people when someone is behind you with a supporting hand on your back, it seems.

Then it’s teenagers, some classmates, some friends, occasional newfound fans. Every now and then, an outright admirer. Usually, you hide behind him, eyes down, arms wrapped around yourself. He interferes personally on the last ones, politely but firmly rejecting them on your behalf, nudging you along to continue your patrolling. You mumble a thanks, staying close beside him.

For adults, it’s two drunkards who laugh and sneer and shout obscene things about what they’d do to a shy schoolgirl like you if they got the chance. One whips out his phone to take a picture of you, only to drop it in his drink when the cuff of his sleeve tightens around his wrist like a snare. Tsunagu ushers you to a bench, draping his jean jacket around your shoulders gently. “You need not worry. I will be right back.”

He’s a dreadfully powerful man, in terms of both influence and Quirk. In seconds, both men are bound tightly by their own clothes, and in a matter of minutes, police officers are stepping in to take them into custody for sexual harassment.

He clicks his tongue in distaste, watching them get carted off. “Some people simply have no moral fiber.”

The way you look at him right then reminds him of why he became a hero. Not only to save lives, but to instill peace and hope into the hearts of those around him.

And he starts to like being around you. You look to him, not only for safety but for guidance and even for comfort. He offers it to you, watching closely as you fall deeper into the web that he weaves, one where you are safe and secure and utterly oblivious to your own entrapment.

And the longer you stick around, stumbling after him like a newborn fawn, the tighter and thicker those bonds grow. You can’t ever leave him.

But why would you ever want to leave him?

[sugarlywhispers]

the fall | b.katsuki - prohero!reader goes undercover

☆– warnings; heart breaking ANGST, a bit of comfort, not a happy ending or well, it is, just not the one you expect, vulnerable!Bakugou Katsuki.

☆– a.n; i don’t know how many times i have deleted, rewritten, deleted again and rewritten again this piece lmao i consider it a win the fact that i just finished it xD also, i don't know if this will have a continuation… thou there’s a high chance that it does because i loved the way it ended lol enjoy <3

If Bakugou Katsuki could be properly honest he would openly admit that being a Pro Hero sucked , approximately eight times out of ten. Mostly it wasn't for the times injuries went worse than expected or felt worse as time progressed and the getting old finally settled in the bones. If he could be entirely open about it, the worst part was when a hero had to take undercover work.

Bakugou hates it. He hates it so much, he could quit. And that was a realization that unsettled him, because this was what he had dreamt about since he was a shitty brat kid: kick shitty villains asses from left to right.

But he got to actually accept and admit this particular annoying, and again, shitty fact, his resentment about that specific part of the job, when it was your turn. When you had to go undercover, and so deep into it, that it had been two years… two fucking years, since he got any news about you.

How fucking dared you. He was–is your best friend, right? Then why not send him even a simple 'I'm okay, still alive' message. Not even a quick phone call where he could at least hear your breathing; he would know it's you, because he knew everything about you. Well–not everything as he would like to. But he was your friend, you had confided in him plenty of times, you had been his partner since you were a little brat from UA doing your internship and he was the newbie Hero in charge of you. You have been through good and shit together. Was it too difficult to just let him know you were fine, fucking alive? Were your new surroundings too dangerous for you to not give any signs of life to any of your friends? If it was dangerous, why the fuck haven't him, or Red Riot or even shitty Deku, been sent to help you?!

Bakugou took another deep breath, face laying over the stinky bar table, hand holding a glass of something he couldn't fucking remember Ejirou said it was. Probably a shot of tequila with lemonade, given the strong flavor in his mouth. Fuck, he wished it was something way more stronger, like firewisky or some shit like that.

"Mina was right. You do look like trash," shitty hair smiled, knowingly and even mockingly at him, which infuriated Katsuki more.

"Shut up, ass." He wasn't drunk, but he wished he was. Katsuki couldn't get drunk because he had patrols to run that same night, he was not an irresponsible asshole, no matter what and no matter who.

But he did wish he could drink himself to sleep. He hadn't been sleeping quite well lately– or more like over two fucking years. Katsuki sighs. He knows he is exaggerating. He knows you. You don't need him to worry about you, you can definitely take care of yourself and he has witnessed how capable you are of it plenty of times already. Damn, you once even kicked his ass for being a jerk– he won't admit it, but that was the day he actually started seeing you more than just a friend. Coincidentally, it was three days before you had to go undercover. What a bitch of luck.

"Todoroki said they were going to scout some of us to go look after her," that brought Bakugou's attention back, sitting up straight and looking directly at his best friend's serious expression on his face.

"I'm in."

Kirishima sighs, "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Fuck you. I'm going..." Katsuki begins his protest but Ejirou doesn't let him continue.

"Katsuki!" Both friends look at each other's eyes for a moment without saying anything. Until Kirishima confirms out loud, "You love her."

The blond stays silent, not admitting or denying it, looking at his best friend's eyes that turned completely professional and determining.

"I will go." He presses firmly and with no room open for discussion, which makes Kirishima sigh.

The red head looks down at the glass he is holding with his drink, a cocktail that had a bit of ron and orange juice, as he plays for a moment with his fingers around it. He takes a sip of it, and after he puts the glass back on the table, he looks back at Katsuki's eyes and says, "I'm not here to invite you to go. I'm just being your fucking best friend in letting you know about this."

Bakugou growls looking elsewhere but his best friend, annoyed that he lost the discussion. He knows by Kirishima's stance and words he is not fucking going, and it innervates him.

He really doesn't want to think about it now. He doesn't want to think about you . He doesn't want to worry yet all he does is worry . For you. For your wellbeing. For the situations you probably have gone through, alone. Not with him around to take every blast he could for you. Not with him to kick some sense in that stubborn head of yours, and vice-versa.

Fuck. He worries so fucking much it is already affecting his head, his performance in battles, his everything. Katsuki had even taken more work than he should trying to keep his mind busy to not think about you.

Kirishima knows. He had known all the bullshit Katsuki was building up inside him for a while now. He always knew when something was off with his best friend. So he invited him to have some light drinks so they could talk a bit, even though that is the least thing Bakugou would ever do. Especially about his feelings. However, Kirishima knows. He has always known.

And he was not letting his friend alone to drown in his feelings.

Bakugou looks at his friend when he feels his hand grab his shoulder. The intensity in Ejirou's eyes makes Katsuki's throat tighten.

"I will bring her back."

"I'm-..."

The explosion makes the ground tremble, and it was enough to sober Bakugou and Kirishima up.

They don't hesitate to run out of the bar and towards the place where it came, where also everyone seemed to run away from. It took them less than three minutes to arrive and both of them sigh in relief when they see they aren't the only heroes at the scene, as even Deku was already there in his costume, holding at least four villains under him. Uravity was close, she had at least ten floating in the air with her Quirk, and was setting one by one on the ground again as another hero would catch and restrain them, before guiding them towards the police cars. The scene is pretty much under control, so that makes Katsuki relax a bit.

Ejirou moves to action, offering help wherever he could. Him and Katsuki walk towards Deku, helping him with the four under him that are struggling forcefully.

Deku smiles thankfully to his friends.

"There's the bitch," says the one Ejirou is holding from the back of his shirt.

"She's fucking dead," threatens the one Katsuki is holding, which makes him angrily manhandle the scum.

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Fuck you, hero!"

Katsuki doesn't have time nor the patience for this, so he doesn't care when he pushes the villain inside the car way more forcefully than he should.

Deku comes running to them as the cars take their way, and he says hopefully, "Have you seen Y/N?"

Katsuki's entire being ignites at the mention of your name. The thought of just seeing you again makes something move inside his gut that is annoyingly satisfying.

"She's back?" Katsuki hates how hopeful his own voice sounded.

"Y-yes?" Izuku frowns, "Wait, you didn't know?" He looks at both friends perplexed.

"Know what?" Ejirou asks this time.

Izuku sighs. "This villain group was a big one that settled in America, where Y/N went undercover. They were planning to attack this base intending to rob the machine that scientists were creating that apparently could send someone to the past. This group wanted to go back in time to erase the source of Quirks, so they could control everything."

An unpleasant chill went down Katsuki's back.

"Y/N has been undercover all this time, working and proving herself so she could get in… She even got in the higher ranks so they would trust her and she could fakely guide them here, where there's nothing but a handful of heroes hiding in this abandoned building ready to catch them."

Deku sounds proud, which Katsuki could comprehend. Not that he would admit that out loud. But wait, that means…

"How do you know this?"

"She hasn't been in contact directly with me, Kacchan, but my agency has been in this case since the beginning and there were loops where she could send information. She couldn't be close to anything or anyone from here or she could have been in a huge danger. But one of my sidekicks has also been undercover with her. He was the loop. From what he told us, she climbed very high; with a Quirk like hers, I'm not surprised she was the only strongest in there. I wonder if-..." Deku went on and on with his mumbling in fascination with Quirks.

Katsuki rolls his eyes. He really doesn't have time to listen to him. He wants to find you, so he simply walks away in search of you.

Two years. It had been two years.

He ends up running towards the entrance of the building, looking around, eyes searching desperately for a sight of you. Heroes and villains around made it a bit difficult, coming and going, running and catching.

Until he finally sees you at a distance.

You are standing there, on the side of the scene, watching as every villain gets taken by some hero and put into custody of the police. The wind around is making your hair float to the side. You have dyed its color, which makes Katsuki think that no matter the color, you still look beautiful. You are beautiful, end of sentence.

But the expression on your face isn't the one of a Hero enjoying victory.

The villains were shouting stuff, and it isn't until he actually pays attention to what they are saying that makes him groan in anger. Why? Because they were shouting swears and threats at you.

And you simply stand there, not responding and receiving everything they throw at you. That makes Katsuki frown. You have never been that cold, that quiet against villains. Where was your fire? Your hatred towards those scumbags-good-for-nothing?

But then your head faced forward, in the direction towards where he was standing. Bakugou's entire being is shaking in anticipation, hoping, thriving for this reunion. Then he sees your eyes. Eyes that were colder than ice. Eyes that showed only a glance of how broken your soul was. And it hurts Katsuki's own heart to see you like that.

Your eyes didn't seem to recognize him at first. Like you were seeing a very distant and almost forgotten thought, a memory that had been pushed to the deepest part of your mind and now just watching him made your brain hurt while trying to figure out the memory.

You then realize it's him , your eyebrows shooting up in surprise and you smile slightly. A smile that doesn't reach your eyes. It is the kind of smile that means "cool to see you, but not very happy about it".

Your eyes go back to the scene, smile wiped from your face and the stoic, cold expression back on your whole being.

"It's The Fall," Deku suddenly appeared next to Katsuki, making the blond jump a little, which he faked it like he was just changing the weight of his body from one foot to the other.

"The fucking what?" Katsuki asks, a bit pissed that he got caught off guard.

"The Fall. When heroes go undercover, they have to pretend to be somebody else," Katsuki rolls his eyes exasperated.

"I fucking know what undercover means, Deku."

"You're not listening, Kacchan!" Deku turns to him, looking quite serious. "The Fall happens when the hero has to return, has to stop pretending to be someone else. And then, they find themselves with the question of whether whomever they were pretending to be was their real self or not."

Katsuki gulps. "I didn't-..."

"Of course you didn't, Kacchan. You have always been you. Fight or die. Hell, I even didn't, because I have always only wanted to be a Hero. But not everyone-..."

"Oh fuck," the blond swears, finally realizing. 

You are in a limbo. In trying to remember who you were, who you are and not; what you should do and not. The Fall was winning over you, as you suddenly moved to help a woman that apparently was on your villain team.

Katsuki doesn't waste time. He runs towards you, picking you up by the waist and walking away from the scene, towards the small alley next to the building, as Deku recaptures the other woman.

"Y/N!" He tries to reason with you as you start to kick him, arms and legs swinging in the air to try and catch him, hit him with all your might. "It's me! It's Bakugou! Katsuki!" You are screaming, not stopping to struggle, as he drags you away from everyone that could see.

"LET GO OF ME, YOU FUCKING HERO –..."

You stop every movement and scream as you realize what you just said. He finally gets to circle his arms around your chest, yours trapped under his big ones. Katsuki is breathing heavily. Fuck, he had forgotten how strong you could get.

"Hero," he repeats in your ear as you settle and relax a bit in his arms. Your back pressed to his chest, his arms holding you strongly. "I'm a Hero, Dynamight, Ground Zero," he said, "Great Explosion Murder God," he tries to joke, his throat tight and almost closed with emotions he was trying to hold back –this is not the moment for them–, saying whatever he could to help your memory remember him, "It's me, Y/N, Katsuki … Your 'Tsuki."

Sillence. Only your rapid intakes of breaths are heard between you two. Still, he doesn't dare to let you go. He feels like if he does, you will slip from in between his fingers like liquid, droplets of water impossible to tame or hold back. If he let you go, you are going to fucking disappear, like smoke impossible to catch, and fly very far away from him to never return.

Bakugou Katsuki is not willing to lose you again.

Your body starts to tremble as you sob, as you cry with all your might in Katsuki's arms. And his heart breaks for you.

"Shh , it's okay. I've got you, love. I'm here…" He soothes you, hands and arms holding you tight against his chest as you cry loudly. His hands start to caress the skin of your arms as he kept whispering into your ear.

Your cries are so intense and painful to hear for him, breaking every piece of his heart for you. He can feel your legs giving up, so he kneels with you on the dirty ground, not letting you go from his arms for even a second.

You suddenly turn in his arms, facing him. Yours surround Katsuki's neck and you hug him strongly, " Katsuki," you cry in his neck, and he wishes he was able to physically take the pain you're feeling right now and throw it very far away. Or even if he had the choice to trade it with you, he would. He would carry your pain, your sorrows, your everything, for you.

"I'm here. I'm here," he repeats as you cry, softly caressing your back with his hands.

Katsuki doesn't know how much time you waited there –now sitting on the ground, his back against a wall while you sat all curled up against his chest and in between his legs– but he notices everything is done and over when Deku peeks from a corner, holding his thumb up in sign that probably everyone had gone from the place. The blond nods, and Deku takes that as a sign that he could get close. His movements slow, careful to not startle you, put you still tense in Bakugou's arms when you hear footsteps.

"It's Izuku, love." Katsuki doesn't know where he learnt to be this careful and cozy with people, he thinks it's your fault. You have been the one who taught him so many things, that it actually doesn't surprise him when his big ass hands caress carefully and softly your head, reassuring you on that touch that it's okay to let go of him a bit. "Midoriya Izuku?" He tries his friend's real name, the one name he is sure you would be glad to hear–apart from his. But you simply respond by grabbing Katsuki harder, not letting go. "Hero Deku? Or… shitty Deku," he feels his chest puff in satisfaction when you try to hide your smile against his chest.

"Ha. Ha. Funny Kacchan…" Deku says, sitting on the ground right in front of you. Very different from you, Katsuki can not hide his own smile –not that he would even try to, which makes Deku roll his eyes and also smile. "How are you feeling, Y/N-chan?"

You exhale deeply; the long, tired sigh being answer enough, but you still say, "Like… all of this is a dream. Everything feels… surreal .” You gulp, finally pulling away a bit from Katsuki. He simply let you, hand still caressing your back in confort. “Like I’ll wake up any moment and be laying on the mattress on the floor in that one room apartment I live–used to… live.”

They both notice your slip as you frown and slide a hand through your lock in a clear frustrated sign.

“I don’t know… what’s fact and what’s fake anymore… I…” The tears fill your eyes once again, your hand now grabbing the beginning of your hair. Katsuki immediately grabs your wrist trying to make you let go. “I feel angry and sad… I feel devastated by what happened… But I also feel relief, and– I don’t know what’s the correct way to feel. I don’t fucking know who I am anymore!”

Katsuki hugs you again, rocking from side to side and hushing, whispering that everything is going to be okay.

He feels Izuku’s eyes on him, on both of you. And even if the fucker hasn’t said anything yet, Bakugou knows. FUCK. He fucking knows what his best friend is going to do. So he closes his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. Fighting his own tears back.

But he can’t hold them longer after he opens them and sees Aizawa standing at a distance. Waiting patiently. Katsuki hugs you tighter.

“Y/N-chan…” Izuku says, his gloved hand pressing on your shoulder to get your attention. “You need help. Until everything settles back into you, you need someone that can help you with this. Do we agree?”

You nod, crying and sniffing as you pull away again, and this time is Katsuki’s turn to not want to let you go. His arms grab you stronger for a moment as he hides his face on your neck.

He doesn’t want to let you go. He just got you back. He has so much to say and do and prove. He doesn’t fucking want to let you go again.

Katsuki is in denial, he knows. And he also knows he is the most selfish bastard alive for not wanting to let you go so you can properly heal. But everything he has gone, without you, and now having a little taste of getting you back, whether that be even half of you… FUCK! He definitely sounds like the most egotistic, selfish motherfucker of all.

When he’s about to finally let you go, he feels your hand tangle in the back of his head in his hair. And when his eyes find yours, he sees it. He sees the need you have of him, the sadness, the joy, the kindness, everything… He sees the want, the care, the despair . So many emotions it’s even difficult for him to maintain eye contact.

And he sees it. The love…

“If there's something I haven’t forgotten is how I feel about you. But you don't deserve the me of right now…” He shakes his head in denial, his hands holding your face and cleaning your tears with his thumbs. “I will get better… I will come back for you.”

You smile at him, and a simple action hasn't hurt so much as this. Like someone stabbed him with a knife on his chest, right where his heart is. And he’s left there, bleeding towards his death as you caress his cheek delicately one more time and stand up and walk crying towards your old teacher.

Katsuki knows it is for your health and wellbeing, but who’s going to convince his heart that this isn’t again the last time he sees you? That you will come back, that you will look for him in your return.

He brings his knees towards his chest, arms hugging them and hiding his face there. And Katsuki cries. Like a child.

He feels Izuku’s movement to sit next to him as one of his arms surround his shoulder, and he has never been grateful enough to the nerd for being the fucking best friend he has ever had.

Bakugou Katsuki doesn’t look at you parting, walking away from him. He can’t.

But he wishes he had.

[ddejavvu]

could you do a spencer x daughter reader comfort for grade stress? my grades are a lot lower than normal and i feel awful :(

you’re an amazing writer much love <3

'$20 and a completely unabridged gossip session about my love life if you can hack into my school's system and change my grades...'

'Baby genius!' Penelope scolds, in response to what you personally believe was a very fair and enticing offer, 'I can't! I don't do bad hacking anymore, I only do the good kind :)'

'It would be good for me to not have these grades.' You type back, smearing an exasperated hand over your face. You swear you nearly drag your skin right off, and you consider attempting to do so, maybe you wouldn't have to go to school anymore if you were just a skeleton-face.

'I'm sure you're freaking out over nothing, wonder baby,' Penelope responds, full of all of her usual optimism that sickens you now, 'You of all people don't need to be worrying about your grades.'

She's wrong. Now you do, now your grades have inexplicably taken a nosedive, dropping into uncharted territory. With a father that attended college at the ripe age of twelve, you feel severely disappointing. You're not following in his footsteps, you've lost the outline of his sneakers and you're traipsing through mud trying to locate them aagin.

You don't bother responding; you're not even sure what you'd say. You don't even consider the ramifications of her saying no to your scheme, being that the world's biggest gossip knows you're upset about your grades and she's not bound to confidentiality by any suspicious illegal activity.

Which means that when your dad gets home, he heads straight for your room.

"Hi, angel," Spencer leans down to hug you over the back of your desk chair, dropping a kiss to the crown of your head. It's the same kiss he's planted on you every day since you came into the world, "Penelope said you're having school trouble?"

Your stomach drops and you groan, "That snitch."

"Hey!' Spencer scoffs, "She's the one that always spoils your birthday presents 'cause you give her puppy eyes. You use her poor secret-keeping abilities to your benefit just as much as the rest of us."

"It's nothing," You're still glancing blankly at your homework, keeping your eyes away from your dad so that you don't have to see his face. You try to brush him off before he directly asks what your grades are, "I'm just having a bad week or something."

"A bad week doesn't impact your grades that much," Spencer hums suspiciously, "And your teacher doesn't even put in grades until the week after you submit assignments, so this week being bad wouldn't have changed your grade yet. What's really going on?"

"I don't know," You confess, and you're glad he understands it's the truth and not another half-hearted excuse. He catches the wavering in your voice and knows you're being honest with him, and he can practically feel the cartoonish crack running down his heart, splitting it in two.

"Alright," He soothes, setting a hand on your shoulder and squeezing at its tense muscles lightly, "We'll figure it out. I'll help you, okay?"

"I don't want your help," You lament, tears stinging painfully at your eyes, "You- you know everything, and I don't want to hear how many times you have to correct me. I don't want to see what I should be while being reminded that I'm not."

There's a long bout of silence where your dad's hand lingers on your shoulder, the only reminder that he's still there. It's like he's stopped breathing altogether, air caught in his throat as his brain tries coming up with a solution.

"I don't want you to be like me." He confesses, and the tears stay in place at the corners of your eyes, waiting for a cue to fall.

"I'm... It was hard growing up and being different. It's hard now being different. Morgan still scoffs whenever I talk too much, and we've been friends for years. JJ cuts me off every time I go on a tangent. People aren't nice to anyone who's different."

"But that doesn't matter," You whimper, hands flying to your face to push against your eyelids like you could squeeze your tears back inside, "You aced classes, you got into college super young, you got a high profile job, you're successful, and-"

"-and if I had to choose one thing about my life to carry over into the next, none of those would be it." Your dad cuts you off, moving to pry your hands away from your eyes. He smooths his thumbs over your eyelids, softening the sting from your aggressive touches.

"Y/N," He starts, honey-colored eyes dripping with love as he stares at you from his spot perched on your bed, "All the knowledge in the world doesn't make you happy. Knowing what chemicals are attributed to love doesn't mean you feel it. Knowing what poets have written about love doesn't mean you get to experience it for yourself. I don't want you to know everything," He explains, drying a tear with the cuff of his shirt sleeve, "I want you to be happy, to be loved. And you are smart," He promises, "-just because you don't understand the material you're getting, or you aren't doing your homework, or you're overloaded with assignments so that your grades drop doesn't mean you're not smart."

"Dad," Your face crumples, your eyes squeezing shut tight as tears drip from their corners. He guides you into his embrace with a hand on the back of your head and you let him control where your weight lands, slumping into his stomach pitifully.

He rubs down your back with his free hand, letting the one shelter your face against his button-up.

"I love you," He murmurs, and you can feel the vibrations of his voice through his chest. You press your ear into it, so your brain soaks up the words, "Even if you're having trouble memorizing the..." He peers down at your paper, "-amendments to the Constitution. Okay, well, you really should know those. We'll work on it, honey."

"Okay," You can't help the weak laugh that shakes your shoulders at his reaction, and he smiles sweetly down at you when you break away, not an ounce of judgement in his eyes that are twinkling with fondness instead.

"Now," He pats your back, straightening up from where he'd been slightly hunched over to rub soothing circles into the fabric of your shirt, "Let's talk about how you're encouraging Penelope to commit cyber crimes for you."

"Uh," You grimace, glancing back quickly at your revision sheet, "I plead the... fifth?"

"That's-" Spencer looks away, biting his lip to conceal his laugh, "That's good. That's bad, don't do that. But that's good. You know number five. That's a start."

[cloudjr]

‘tease.’ || ffvii

scenario: how they react to you teasing them.

characters: cloud, tifa, aerith

contents: a lot of blushing, flirting, fluff

CLOUD STRIFE

the group was taking a brief break from travelling to stretch their legs. cloud thought to use this time to walk around, preferably by himself.

when he feels something on his hair, he instinctively turns to see what it is, prepared to wield his blade. he's surprised to see you standing in front of him, looking a bit taken back at his sudden movement, but immediately going back to touch his hair.

he closes his eyes and lets out a small sigh, both in relief and slight annoyance.

"your hair," is all you say as you knead strands between your fingers.

"yes," cloud opens his eyes with what he hopes is a neutral face, "what about my hair?" he asks, and you pull your hand back.

"how do you keep it like this all the time?" you don’t look him directly in the eyes when you speak, keeping your eyes on the blonde's hair with a curious gaze.

cloud merely furrows his brows at the sudden attention before looking away and shrugging. when he looks back momentarily, you're much closer than before and back to touching his hair, making comments cloud doesn’t even bother acknowledging anymore.

cloud interrupts your comments with his own, gently pushing your hand away from his head.

"sorry, i don't really do anything to it." cloud gives you a deadpan look, and you put your hands up immediately in defense.

“hey, i never said it was bad thing,” you grin at cloud's utterly confused stare. "it just amazes me how it always just... stays in that shape?"

"what?" is all cloud can get out, confused by your words.

"i mean, a lot of people take their time to make themselves look this good, but all you do is wake up and you look,” you let a smirk pass over your lips and give cloud a quick once over that makes his heart jump at the sudden action. "effortlessly handsome." you finally finish.

you lift a hand to brush some hair away from his face, and cloud has no words as he feels his pulse quicken at the feeling of your fingers brushing against his forehead to pull his hair away.

he can feel a heat climbing up the back of his neck to reach his face, and your smile widens a bit before giving cloud a wink, leaving and making your way to the others.

it takes everything cloud has in him not to crumple to the ground in a flustered mess.

TIFA LOCKHART

you circle each other tentatively, both watching each other strategically.

tifa opens with a jab towards your midriff. you manage to avoid the attack, spinning round into a kick, which tifa dodges with ease.

you continue to spar for the next several minutes, moving in some kind of dance of space and awareness and strikes forceful enough to hurt, but careful enough to not bruise.

tifa notices as you carry a small smile, face a little flushed and sweat sticking a few strands of hair to your forehead and she could trace, with her eyes, the lines of your arms and the dip between your collarbones and the smooth skin of your shoulders.

"staring, lockhart?" you questioned, a small smirk on your face, and tifa felt herself flush.

"um, n-no. just... looking for an advantage."

you raised an eyebrow. "worried i'll beat you?"

"well, uh..." was what came out instead, clearly thrown off by your teasing comments, nearly as embarrassing as her last excuse.

you grin, directing a spinning kick straight at tifa's ribs. this time, the hit makes contact, knocking her fully off-balance.

still slightly dazed, tifa forgets sparring etiquette and reaches out thoughtlessly, grabbing onto you to try and right herself, but your centre of gravity was still off from the kick, and you both ended up falling to the ground.

tifa doesn't breathe. part of that being because you had just landed on top of her, physically knocking the breath from her lungs, but mostly because you had just landed on top of her, bodies pressed together, your face against her neck.

you quickly push yourself up on your forearms, taking a little of your weight off tifa.

you stare at her for a second with a look in your eyes she can’t quite decipher yet. tifa's breath hitches when she sees your eyes flicker to her lips, gaze lingering on them for a while.

"pretty," you whisper, lowly, as your face unconsciously moves closer to hers, and in that exact moment, her brain stops working.

around you there was complete silence, with your breaths and the subtle sound of your heartbeats being the only sounds heard.

tifa's eyelids close slowly when she feels you lean in towards her. she shudders as she feels your nose brush hers.

it isn't until she feels you turn her head slightly and peck her on the cheek, that she opens her eyes, staring at you, an expression filled with confusion and desperation.

"i'd rather kiss you when i'm not covered in sweat and gross," you say, getting up and bringing tifa's hand up, placing a soft kiss against her knuckles. "for now, this'll have to do." you say simply, offering a cheeky smile before heading back and leaving a bemused tifa by herself.

AERITH GAINSBOROUGH

it's late in the evening when there's a rhythmic knock at the door, and you can instantly tell who it is.

"come in, aerith." you smile softly at the brunette as she walks into the room, humming a tune you don't particularly recognise.

aerith shuffles to where you sit and stands there for a second. you notice how her hair was down, no accessories or anything tying it up, and your heart flutters at how beautiful she managed to look at any given moment.

"can you braid my hair?" she asks, a pout on her lips as you raise an eyebrow. "pretty please?"

you look down and see a brush and hair ties in her hand, along with her signature bow wrapped around her wrist, and you can't help but titter at how prepared she was.

her hair is damp—she must’ve just gotten out of the shower—and she wears a white t-shirt paired with light pink shorts.

she looked to be ready for bed, you realise. her eyes look tired.

"of course," you stand up and go to turn on the bedroom light as aerith sits down, clapping her hands in rejoice.

you walk back over to aerith, who was setting down the hairbrush on the vanity desk. you stand directly behind her and begin the braiding process.

"you better make me look cute when it's done!” aerith teases, earning a soft snicker from you.

"you don't have to worry about that. you always look cute," you say, and aerith's smile only grows wider as she nudges you, calling you "such a flirt".

you take the brush in one hand and some of aerith’s hair in the other. you begin gliding it through the damp locks, weary to avoid pulling it. you delicately brush out the knots and begin sectioning the hair off.

as you start to braid her hair, you notice how aerith stared straight into the mirror, seemingly not at herself, but at you.

you decide to do some teasing of your own this time.

"so," you speak, snapping the brunette out of her trance. "why'd you decide to have me braid your hair tonight?"

she blinks a little bit, internally debating on what to tell you, then smiles brightly. "just wanted a reason to spend time with you." she says, confidently.

you feel a warm feeling creep from your neck to your cheeks, and it doesn't go unnoticed by aerith, and you can't help but feel slightly defeated.

"aww, did i make you blush?"

"shut up."

now, you're determined to get her back.

a few minutes pass of the both of you just talking as you continue to work your fingers through her hair, and you run a single finger down the complete braid when you finally finish.

"there," you hum, sliding your hands down to cup her face in your hands, tipping her head back so she’s forced to look up at you. "all done, pretty girl."

if it weren’t for the way your palms were pressed to her cheeks, you wouldn’t have been able to catch her reaction.

but since they were, you get the experience of feeling her face heat up beneath your hands by the second, and you can’t help the smile that finds its way to your lips.

"aww, did i make you blush?" you coo, a laugh bubbling out of you as aerith attempts to bury her face in her palms.

you move in front of her and kneel down to gently take her hands off of her face, giggling at her now red-tinted face. "do you like it when i call you that, my pretty girl?" you tease further, enjoying her reaction.

"mhm," she nods without hesitation, arms wrapping around your neck, a wide grin stretches across her lips. "definitely."

"good." you mirror her smile as she leans in to give you a toothy kiss.