#as requested

[lucabyte]

sometimes everything just sucks real real real bad

[missingpucks]

he's giving snow white

[criticalyasha]

C3E65 「 Imogen & Laudna 」

[nadianova]

[6esiree]

They Help You With Your Period Pains

Imagine Alastor, Lucifer, Husk, Vox, and Adam help you with your period pains? …you’re not in a romantic relationship and there’s a sprinkle of plot in every one of them 🤍 NSFW, btw!

Alastor:

Two days—that’s approximately how long Alastor managed to withstand the sweet scent of your monthly cycle before he found himself dropping to his knees, your lips parting with a pleasured gasp as he pulled your panties down, unfazed by the sight of your pad. He dove headfirst into your messy folds with a desperation that had your knees trembling, his slender tongue slithering into your entrance and exploring each and every inch of your warm, wet, gummy walls.

You were supposed to be friends, but between his filthy slurping and his sharp nose rubbing deliciously against your swollen clit with every twist and turn of his head, it was hard to remember that. And as for Alastor, it was hard to remember that he was supposed to satiate his cannibalistic thirst for blood in exchange for alleviating the never-ending cramps wracking your core, especially with his cock straining almost painfully against his slacks.

“Oh, Alastor, just fuck me at this point,” You unashamedly whined, feeling somewhat jealous of your mattress as he subtly rolled his hips in an attempt to relieve himself. “You already pushed past the boundaries of our friendship with…this, so fucking me won’t make any difference.”

Alastor hesitated—but when he accepted the truth behind your statement, he gave your cunt one last good lapping before unbuckling his belt and stepping out of his slacks, a gratified moan reverberating through your chest as he pushed your legs back, displaying your fluttering hole. His tongue traveled across his lips, and while you couldn’t tell whether he was cleaning himself of your blood or savoring the sinful display beneath him, you were still eager to accommodate him.

“I suppose you are right,” Alastor admitted, the head of his weeping cock pushing past your folds at such an agonizingly slow pace that you clutched onto the lapels of his coat, bringing him in. “Now, now, darling,” He let out a sigh, “I’m not—ha—going anywhere.”

That’s what you hoped as Alastor began to slide his cock in and out of your cunt, his pelvis kissing your swollen clit with every delicious roll of his hips. But you eventually found yourself whispering ‘Promise not to?’ against his temple, your hands traveling underneath his dress shirt, eliciting a static-like groan from his throat that had your gummy walls clenching around him. Alastor already felt weak for getting on his knees for you, but he found himself agreeing anyway.

“We can do this every month,” You said between bouts of moans, clutching tightly onto his back as he brought you closer to the edge. “To indulge our separate needs,” Alastor tentatively added, “Correct?” You nodded, knowing perfectly well that he was simply trying to justify it.

Lucifer:

Life after Lilith’s seemingly endless sabbatical became a bleak affair for Lucifer, so when he met you, he instantly latched onto you—much like he latched onto your aching breasts as he pushed his cock past your folds, the heavenly embrace of your cunt and your pleasured gasps soothing his loneliness. But the two of you were friends, friends who found themselves tangled in the sheets religiously every month with the excuse of alleviating the cramps that wracked your core.

Lucifer assumed that there was nothing past your little arrangement in your mind, even when you sought him out and unashamedly crawled onto his lap with a whimpered ‘I need you right now, Luci,’ seeping past your lips. As soon as he had you chanting his name, however, his forked tongue fluttering against your swollen clit as his fingers worked dutifully inside of your warm, wet, gummy walls, he stopped thinking about that entirely. In the moment, he felt like you were his.

“Does this feel better, honey?” Lucifer pulled away from your nipple to ask you, a trail of saliva dribbling down his chin. You feverishly nodded with an ‘Mhm,’ as he relentlessly drove the head of his cock against that velvety spot inside of you. “Good—that’s what I like to hear.”

This all happened because half a year ago, the painkillers Lucifer so graciously supplied you with strangely stopped helping your cramps; and in one last ditch effort to get close to you, he sheepishly suggested what a certain someone used to enjoy during her monthly cycle. While you didn’t want to ruin your friendship, the offer was simply too tempting to decline, especially with the way your aching cunt throbbed at the mere thought of Lucifer being in between your legs.

“Fuck! I’m so, so close, Luci,” You whined, threading your fingers in his soft hair, scratching affectionately at his scalp before pulling him into your chest, encouraging him to latch onto your breast once more. “Always making me forget the pain—mmph!—thank you s’much.”

Lucifer watched your eyes flutter shut and your mouth fall open in a series of desperate pleas that had his cock stiffening inside of your cunt. But he focused on lathering your pebbled nipple with attention rather than chasing his own release, alternating between teasing kitten-licks and actual suckles, only allowing himself to cum when your walls clenched around him. It was always disappointing to feel you finish, but at least Lucifer could pretend you were his next month.

“Well, I guess that’s that, huh?” Lucifer sighed as he looked down at you, his cock softening inside of your cunt. “Mm, no,” You shook your head, but it was what you told him next that had his heart fluttering. “Oh, and I think it’s about time that I told you that the painkillers still work.”

Husk:

If there was anybody you could seek out when it was that time of the month, it was your dear friend Husk, his skilled fingers effortlessly coaxing orgasm after orgasm out of your aching cunt. Unfortunately, he avoided using his tongue and especially his cock in fear that his barbs would worsen your cramps—and not just because he realized that he hadn’t lost the ability to love the one time he penetrated you, the way you had moaned out ‘Baby’ making his heart rate pick up.

So, Husk made you lay on your stomach this time around, a strong hand holding you down by your nape as he feverishly worked away at your cunt from behind, his pupils dilating at the mixture of slick and blood cascading down your thighs. You tried to warn him that such a position would be messy, but he assured you with that oh-so-addicting baritone voice of his that he couldn’t give a fuck—and that’s when you tried to suggest he use his cock again.

“Shit, doll, don’t ya remember how long it took ya to adjust?” Husk gruffed, his fingers twisting and turning inside of your warm, wet, gummy walls, desperately searching for that spot that would shut you up. “This is about you, not me—so just relax and let this old man take care of ya.”

But if you were fine with feeling each and every second of Husk’s barbed cock stretching you, then how could he say it wasn’t about you? He had filled up your cunt to the brim after you moaned out ‘Baby’ instead of his name that one time he fucked you, a ghost of a bite still present on your shoulder blade; and now that the memory had infiltrated your dreams and filled most of your mornings with slick-drenched panties, you wanted his cock so, so desperately.

“Do ya still need it, hm? Look at how ya fallin’ apart with just my hand, doll,” Husk chuckled as he finally located that velvety spot inside of you, abusing it. “I don’t need it—mm, fuck, baby!—I want it,” You cried out, your legs trembling as he brought you closer to the edge.

And there it was again, that dreaded term that had Husk’s heart picking up as fast as his hand pulled out of your cunt to unfasten his pants, his weeping cock throbbing in anticipation. ‘Yes, yes! finally!’ You gasped as he pushed past your folds without any warning, your walls eagerly accommodating him. Husk supposed that he could drown out his feelings with some cheap booze later, refusing to consider the possibility that maybe, just maybe, you wanted him too.

“Uhh, shit, so fuckin’ tight,” Husk huffed, lifting up one of your legs over the bed, spreading your glistening cunt for him. “It’s all for you, baby, only you,” You moaned. “Only me?” He leaned in and rolled his hips into you, purring with an unmistakable gratification as you nodded.

Vox:

Pity, just pure, utter pity—that’s what brought Vox to your door without failure every month, ready to alleviate the cramps that wracked your core despite the countless painkillers you had taken. He couldn’t recall how he had approached you with such a proposition in the first place, or at least not while he pushed his cock past your messy folds and replaced your pained groans with relieved moans, your squelching cunt almost making him short-circuit.

Still, Vox savored every little reaction he elicited from you as he held your legs apart instead of some shitty, uninspired pornstar named Rocky, the head of his cock abusing that velvety spot inside of you which had your eyes fluttering shut, your brows knitting together, and your plush lips falling open in a series of desperate pleas as you arched up into him in such a natural way. In short, the sight was nothing compared to the usual performances Valentino invited him to critique.

“If it weren’t for you, I would have—ha, yes!—quit a long time ago,” You unashamedly admitted, fueling his already inflated ego. He pushed your legs back onto your nude chest, plunging his cock into you at a new position. “Nobody knows how to—oh!—fuck good in the porn industry.”

No, but at least he did, Vox thought to himself as he drove his hips against yours at a feverish pace, his pelvis rubbing deliciously against your swollen clit. It had been six months worth of this, and your cunt had yet to grow tired of swallowing his cock in a warm, wet, tight embrace, just like he had yet to grow tired of your slick and blood alike staining the slacks hanging loosely around his hips, including the way your breathy moans fogged up his screen. Why? …he didn’t really know.

“You know, sweetheart,” Vox started, releasing one of your legs to fondle your breasts, a hiss seeping past your lips as he rolled one of your pebbled nipples between his thumb and his forefinger. “Unless you’re bound to Val via your soul—fuck—I could give you a job myself.”

You couldn’t help but feel fortunate as Vox coaxed an orgasm out of you, your cries of ecstasy somehow getting drowned out by the grunts and groans you coaxed out of him with your fluttering cunt. If he hadn’t showed up at your door the day you thought about quitting, you never would have been presented with such a tantalizing job opportunity by the same individual you could depend on to fuck you until your legs were virtually useless.

“Yes, please! I’m tired of Val’s bullshit,” You sighed as Vox pulled out and collapsed right next to you, the bed creaking with his added weight. “Good, I needed a new assistant,” He said, the excitement that bloomed in his chest making him realize that he was no longer fucking you out of pity.

Adam:

Having sex with Adam had never, ever crossed your mind until he caught you in the middle of a series of gut-wrenching cramps, no painkillers in your system. The way he barged into your office and asked you why you hadn’t finished the stack of paperwork that was due in less than an hour made you snap. You were his assistant, so he had the right to discipline you—but right now? Every single damned syllable that seeped past his masked lips only served to exacerbate your pain.

Adam was your boss, but he was far from professional, filling the entire work day with fleeting touches and an incessant amount of ‘Whatcha doing, babe?’’s and the occasional ‘Soooo, when are ya going to let me take you out?’ In short, you knew it was okay to stand up from your swivel chair and push him back onto the loveseat in your office, straddling his hips and unashamedly guiding those big, heavy hands of his underneath your blouse.

“Holy shit, babe, what’s gotten into you?” Adam asked, confused, until you bunched up your pencil skirt and showcased the imprint of your pad against your panties. “Oh, never mind,” He chuckled. “I gotcha—fuck yourself on me and I’ll take good care of these for now, alright?”

You were relieved to know that Adam wasn’t grossed out by the blood as you slowly sunk onto his cock, your warm, wet, gummy walls eagerly accommodating him despite his impressive girth. While you adjusted to him, he quickly discarded his mask, diving down to wrap his lips around one of your nipples, his heavy hands gripping your hips with a force that would surely leave your skin bruised. But how could you complain when you felt so, so much better?

“Mm, babe, that pussy of yours is clenching around me so fucking tightly,” Adam groaned against your breast, your fingers weaving into his hair as he thrusted up into you, the head of his cock kissing your cervix. “Y’know, I would just love to—fuck—take care of you every month.”

Oh, the thought was tempting, especially as he fucked up into you at a feverish pace and the filthy sound of your squelching cunt, his relentless suckles, and your stifled moans bounced off the the walls of your small office. Anybody could walk in on you, and that’s what fueled the two of you to chase your releases, eliciting a curse from Adam as you plunged down on his cock and swirled your hips, your swollen clit rubbing deliciously against his pelvis. But he ended up touching you himself.

“I meant it when I—fuck, yeah, keep moving like that—said I’d take care of you,” Adam huffed, his fingers lathering your clit with affection, making your cunt flutter around him in no time. “I only fucked you because I had no painkillers on me,” You said, but you eventually muttered a ‘Fine.’

[the-ominous-owl]

Agatha All Along | 1x07 | Death's Hand In Mine

[samgirard]

└the tkachuk family celebrates matthew winning the stanley cup | stanley cup finals: fla vs. edm | 6.24.24

[sweetdayspng]

Nighty Night Vintage Lace Dollhouse

[hiraethwa]

˚₊ ˚ ‧ — catch me if i fall

pairing: iwaizumi hajime x reader, best friend!oikawa tooru x reader a/n: hurt/comfort as requested by @daisy-room i think i don’t understand what fluff means… and i went too hard on the plot 💀 enjoy! word count: 2.8k

“tooru!” you pout at your best friend who is currently being swarmed by his group of fan girls vying for his attention. 

the brunette almost takes too much pleasure in sprinkling little bits of affection to each of the girls, flashing his to-die-for dreamy smiles and cute lines to keep them hooked. unlike them, you know oikawa well enough, too well, one could say, to fall for his boyish charms. 

you resort to smacking him on the back of his head. 

“oi, y/n-chan! that hurts,” he pouts back at you, rubbing his head. you almost regret your decisions as a few girls stare back at you in displeasure. his little group of fans is scary, you think. 

“i said, iwaizumi’s waiting for us.” you spare a glance back at the girls, shuddering at their intensity for their idol, no more than a normal human being like everyone else, but talented and insane. “and stop messing with them, you’ll regret it one day.” 

he sticks his tongue out at you childishly before turning back to them and flips his personality a complete 180 with a sheepish smile, apologizing to them in a gentle voice. ack, he gives you the chills whenever he is around his fans. 

once you successfully pry him away from his fans, he follows after you like a lost puppy, curving around buildings to get to the school entrance. “y/nnn,” oikawa drags out the last syllable of your name. he slings an arm across your shoulders, leaning onto you with his full weight as if he didn’t weigh anything. 

you stagger a step and push back against his warmth. “oi, you’re heavy.” 

“so mean!” he exclaims at your jab and eases off you but still keeps his arm around you. 

the cool autumnal breeze nudges your figures from behind, reminding you of the change in seasons that is bound to come soon. it tugs at your hair, sending strands of them flying in your face. you frown at it just as oikawa runs his hand through your hair, coaxing the stray ones back in place. 

he hums in appreciation as you lean into his touch, savoring the one thing you are deprived of with iwaizumi, but given freely by him. “there,” his slender fingers tracing down the side of your face, tipping your chin up towards him. 

“you’re evil,” you whine, burying your face in your hands. he knows. this fucker knows what he is doing, showing his affection through physical touch, after teasing iwaizumi about it, and making him freeze up and hesitate whenever you try to initiate any type of skinship with him. 

you understand though, since you barely even started dating, it’s normal that iwaizumi is not that comfortable with you yet. unlike oikawa. sometimes you wish he is more like oikawa, doing whatever he pleases without care for your feelings. 

oikawa lifts an eyebrow at you, as if questioning what could he possibly be doing that is evil. you elbow him in the hip, relenting, “best friends?”

he cracks a wide smile at you, a genuine one at that, not one of those that he flashes at his fans to charm them. “was that so hard?” you could barely hear his words, being smothered by his chest and his arms wrapped around you. you smile into his shirt, nodding your head in pretense to be annoyed at him. 

oikawa tightens his arms around you, cherishing the warmth of your body in his embrace, just as something in his chest tightens. your words from earlier echoes in his head – you’ll regret it one day.

a polite throat clearing from behind oikawa has you breaking away from his touch. “izumi!” you beam at your almost boyfriend as if he hangs the sun in the sky. 

oikawa swallows thickly, glancing down at you as his hands drop to his sides. no, not one day, he already does. 

iwaizumi smiles at you, ruffling your hair as you basically bounce out of your skin excitedly at the affection he is showing you, rambling about your day so far. oikawa thinks he almost regrets talking to his best friend about you before they left practice today, but how could he when iwaizumi’s simple touch brings the most dazzling smiles out of you? 

you look back at him in delight and a hint of curiosity, a question in your eyes at iwaizumi’s newfound affection. what did you tell him? oikawa only shrugs, cracking a crooked smile at you, an answer in itself.

you’ve only become friends barely a year ago when he had found you at practice, thinking you’re one of his fans. he had mistakenly asked if you wanted his autograph, and you laughed in his face, unfazed by his pretty boy act. and he had been curious, of who you were there for, so he made his second mistake by asking you. you had only waved a hand at him as you took your leave. “maybe you’ll find out another day.” and that was that. 

his third mistake was finding out who you were and trying to be friends with you. his charms did not work on you, and you were just polite enough to tolerate his playboy presence. but he kept trying, pulling a chair over to your desk during lunch breaks and coming over to talk to you during breaks at practice. you only started warming up to him when he dropped his flirty act, behaving like a normal high schooler.

“so, are you going to tell me who you keep coming to our practices for?” you look up at the tall brunette, surprise evident on your face. you thought he would have figured it out by now, thinking you were not so subtle with your staring, but… you guess not. 

you debate whether you should tell oikawa about your not so small crush. perhaps he could help you out. or perhaps it was doomed and you had zero chance with him. he certainly acts like he hates you, a frown marring his handsome face whenever you were near, and curt answers to your polite questions

“oikawa.” speaking of the devil, iwaizumi strides up to the two of you, a scowl on his features as soon as he notices your presence. you look away, a sigh escaping your throat. it’s hopeless.

but oikawa notices the way your face falls whenever his best friend comes near, his sourness like an unwanted mistress intruding on the atmosphere. and he realizes. oh. oh.

“if you keep frowning, you’re gonna have it etched onto your face permanently, iwa-chan,” he teases, walking back to practice. 

iwaizumi glares at oikawa’s retreating figure, reluctantly following him, but not before shooting a dour look in your direction. he does not trust you. that much should be clear from the way he treats you. he does not know what your goal is, gaining oikawa’s fervent interest and becoming close friends with him in the short span of several weeks. 

you could be playing hard to get to manipulate oikawa into taking an interest in you, but for what, he could not think of. so iwaizumi keeps you at arm’s length to protect his best friend, who’s too trusting and confident in himself, even if he has had a crush on you since the first year of high school. 

oikawa resorts to leaving the two of you alone whenever he has the chance to. what can go wrong? (just about everything) he invites you over to his house when iwaizumi is over, and takes an intensive amount of time to make tea for his guests. he asks iwaizumi to walk you home, using the excuse that he needs to stay back and practice his serves more. but he can't help but feel that he is making another mistake, and he hates that he is secretly relieved that his best friend doesn’t seem to be able to stand you. 

you break first, tired of your crush treating you like shit when you did nothing to warrant such behavior in the first place. the last straw being iwaizumi smiling and talking to a stranger who was asking for directions when all he did for the last few minutes was scowl at you. 

“alright, spit it out. why do you hate me so much?” you cannot help but taste the bitterness in your mouth as you asked iwaizumi the question that has been on your mind for a while. 

“i don’t—” iwaizumi frowns again. 

“you fucking do. you look at me like i’m no better than dust under your feet, and you reserve that frown only for me. you talk like—scratch that, i get the sense that you wish you don’t have to talk to me at all.”

“fine, you want to do this? let’s do it. why are you getting close to oikawa? i’ve seen girls like you do the same thing for their own ulterior motives. oikawa may be too blind to notice it, but i am not.” he challenges. 

“girls like me? what is that supposed to mean? why don’t you ask oikawa that since he’s the one who refused to leave me alone?”

“if you’re playing hard to get so that he falls for you, you’re not the first one to do that. he could be an idiot, but he isn’t going to fall for your tactics.” but even iwaizumi isn’t sure of that himself, oikawa has never shown such a strong interest in anyone before. “and stop showing up at practices, you’re distracting him.” and me. 

“you—you don’t even know me, and that’s what you think of me?” you wipe your tears off roughly with your sleeve, frustrated with iwaizumi’s perception of you. “well guess what? i’m the fucking idiot here because the one i like is you!” 

you didn’t care what he thought. or what he was going to say in response to your sudden confession. nothing good, surely. you could imagine him scoffing at you, stomping on your heart like it is nothing to him, and you could not bear it, that pain in your heart that felt so real, so you ran. 

you stop showing up to practice like he requested, and iwaizumi stops seeing you around school as if you actively tried to avoid him. good, he thinks. good that you didn’t have any ill intentions for his best friend, but… you liked him. and he liked you too. and he also broke your heart. why would you still like him after the awful things he said to you that day?

iwaizumi frowns as he notices your absence at practice for the third day in a row. did he break something so precious that it will never be whole again?

“y/n’s not here again and she’s avoiding me. i suppose you had something to do with it?” oikawa stops next to iwaizumi, also looking at the usual spot you lounge at on the bleachers during practice. 

“i think i messed up, oikawa.” 

“how bad?”

“i thought she has an ulterior motive in getting close to you, but she likes me and i—” iwaizumi swallows thickly. “—i like her too.”

“you’re an idiot.” oikawa’s face is unreadable. strange, iwaizumi thinks, unable to figure out if he is upset or disappointed in him. “fix it.”

iwaizumi knows he should, oikawa is just stating the obvious, which is uncharacteristic of him, being the one to frequently speak in metaphors that confuses the shit out of everyone. but he has to admit, saying that he will fix it is easier than actually doing it when you’re turning around and going back towards the direction you came from whenever you catch sight of him. 

especially when you’re stomping out into the pouring rain even if you didn’t have an umbrella the moment your eyes land on him. 

“what do you want, iwaizumi?” you snap at him, not caring that you’re drenched from head to toe in that moment. 

“it’s hajime to you.” he shields you with his umbrella, fully aware that it wasn’t large enough for two, that his left side is getting soaked. 

“why? you basically told me to stop showing up in front of you.” you are walking at a fast pace, eager to get home, away from the boy who shattered your heart carelessly, but iwaizumi keeps up with your long strides easily. 

“you never gave me a chance to say anything that day.” his steps are in sync with yours, not even losing a breath. damn him and his volleyball stamina.

“what, so you could humiliate me further?” you huff, hurrying your steps. 

he yanks your wrist, snapping you around to face him. “because i like you too, y/n. i’m sorry for saying those things to you, and for being an asshole to you. so please, would you forgive me?” without pausing for a beat, he frowns at your state, worry shining through his warm brown eyes. “you’re gonna get sick like this.”

and then he had walked you home without room for protest, making sure you took a warm shower and changed into clean dry clothes before leaving. it wasn’t until he left that you realized you never gave him a reply. 

but you never got the chance to revisit the confession, because the next time you saw iwaizumi, he was busy kicking oikawa’s ass for flirting with his fans instead of focusing on practice. 

you made a double take when he greeted you by name for the first time then, offering you the cold drink you always get from the vending machine, even though half the time it was sold out. he had smiled at you. and walked you home voluntarily. and took the time to talk to you during practice breaks. and gone out of his way to get your favorite bread from the bakery before school each day. 

weeks had gone by, neither of you bringing up the topic, until the realization hit you: this is iwaizumi’s (whom you had started calling izumi instead of iwaizumi or hajime, settling for the compromise between the two) way of courting you. 

it had been a song and dance of polite touches and gentlemanly gestures, shy smiles and conversations that never seemed to end. but today feels different than before, as if whatever talk iwaizumi had with oikawa had changed something between you two. 

instead of going home after he walked you back to yours, iwaizumi had asked to come in to your home. 

he sits on the floor, leaning back on his arms, strong muscles rippling with each small movement, and pats the space between his legs. 

“who are you and what did you do to my izumi?” you can’t help but tease, surprised by his forwardness, making his cheeks color as he realize what he was doing. 

regardless, you plop down between his thighs and he circles your waist from behind, leaning his chin on your shoulder. “is this alright?” 

you only hum in agreement, enjoying the physical affection from the boy you like, memorizing the shape of him against you. 

“so i asked oikawa today if he liked anyone.” 

“does he?”

“no, i—” iwaizumi gulps, “—i thought that maybe he liked you.”

you laugh at the notion that oikawa, the notorious ladies’ man could fall for someone as plain as you. “izumi, hell would freeze over before that happens.”

“i know,” he whispers. “it’s stupid but i needed to hear it from him.”

you sense that there could be something more beneath his words, some deeper reason as to why he chose to tell you this. so you ask him, curiosity peaked, “why?”

it takes him a moment to think about it before he answers, “because a part of me thought that you would rather be with him if he liked you, everyone does. i mean, why wouldn’t they? he’s more talented, more driven, more charming, more. and i was afraid that you would be too.”

“i like you, iwaizumi hajime.” you turn around in his arms, holding his face with your hand. “and i’ll keep telling you that until you get it into that thick skull of yours.”

he buries his face into the crook of your neck, tightening his hold around you. you thread your fingers through his hair, rubbing his scalp gently while returning his hug. 

“i’m sorry. i don’t deserve you, especially with how i treated you like shit before.” he mumbles into your skin. 

“too bad that’s for me to decide, isn’t it? you can redeem yourself by smothering me with physical affection. death by love sounds romantic, doesn’t it?”

he lifts his head, finally meeting your eyes with his red-rimmed ones. “would you do me the honor of being my girlfriend?” he blurts, eyes widening like he didn’t plan on asking you right then and there. 

you grin at him. “i like you too, izumi.” 

“fuck, i had a whole date planned and everything.” he buried his face in his hands, too embarrassed to look at you again.

“that’s a yes, in case you are wondering.” you giggle at him as you pull his hands and lace them with yours. 

between the weirdly cute noise you just made and that sun-like smile of yours, iwaizumi hajime thinks that he is a goner. 

looking for more? browse the library

[basement-buddy]

[hufflepuffwritingstuff2]

Hi! Do you think you can write a story where hero accidentally hurts villain with their powers and they have to take care of them?

Hi Anon! I think I can! Thanks for requesting this, and for your patience, here you go!

Frostbite and Firelight

Hero had really screwed up this time. Villain was supposed to dodge, darn it! But they didn’t, and now they were currently shivering in Hero's arms, their torso marked black and blue from the crime-fighter's ice beam.

“I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry,” Hero repeated over and over again as they ran.

Villain's shivering became more violent.

“It's gonna be okay, I'm gonna get you to the hospital and-"

“N-n-n-no,” Villain's teeth chattered, “h-h-h-hospital.”

“But Villain-"

“P-p-please, no,” Villain begged.

Hero sighed in a frazzled sort of way, then turned on their heel and started running to their little townhouse.

…

Hero laid Villain on the couch, hastily throwing old logs in the fireplace and lighting it for the first time ever. It was the dead of summer, and even if it wasn't, being cryogenic made Hero extremely sensitive to high heat. Not that they were thinking about that right now though.

They threw blanket after blanket over Villain's shaking form.

“Okay okay okay okay okay,” hero muttered, “no problem no problem, well big problem, but a problem we can handle, right? Right. Uh, Villain?”

Villain cracked an eye open. They were so cold it burned.

“I need your help here,” Hero said, “can you make any fire?”

“Hero,” Villain grunted, “there's no need to panic.”

Villain lifted their suit. Their skin was already shifting from black-and-blue to reddish-pink.

“Huh?” Hero asked, wiping cold sweat from their brow.

“Hero, fire cancels out ice, you should know that,” Villain laughed weakly, “but you did do a number on me for a minute there…”

“Oh.”

Hero swayed, then lurched to the side. Villain quickly slid off the couch and caught them. The fire roared behind them, crackling and popping.

“But it would seem ice doesn't exactly cancel out fire, huh?” Villain asked knowingly.

“I- didn’t know what else to do…”

“Hm. Well, as much as I'm enjoying the warmth, I don't really need it anymore. Let's get you cooled down.”

Villain took a jug of water and doused the fire out. Hero sighed in relief now that the heat wasn't burning up their back.

“Thank you,” Hero sighed in relief.

“Yep.”

Villain hoisted Hero to their feet.

“Nice place you've got,” they remarked.

Oh puddles. Now Villain knew where they lived.

“Relax,” Villain laughed, “I'll only pop in every now and then~”

“Are you sure you're okay?” Hero asked.

Villain looked at Hero thoughtfully. Then an idea flashed behind their eyes.

“You know… I'd probably feel even better if you…”

“Yes?” Hero asked instantly.

“…If you and I got coffee after this?” Villain smirked, “you can have the iced stuff, I want something hot.”

Hero blushed. They opened their mouth then closed it several times, unsure why the words weren't forming.

“Yes?” Hero squeaked.

“Perfect,” Villain smiled.

They left the room and went to the front door, Hero trailing behind them without realizing it.

“I'll see you at the café in an hour?”

Hero nodded mutely. Villain smiled, then opened the door.

“And Hero?” they asked.

“Yeah?”

“You can freeze me anytime if it means I get to come over afterward~”

Villain left at that, closing the door behind them and leaving a very flustered Hero standing there, cheeks as red as Villain's fire.

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