#have some nefarious plans with this in mind…

[whump-is-love-whump-is-life]

“I remember everything.”

“Everything? I doubt that, otherwise you’d be on your knees begging for mercy.”

[whirlybirbs]

— CAN'T WE BE SEVENTEEN? ; shoto todoroki ; 焦凍

summary: he's loved you since he was seventeen. pairing: f!reader x pro hero!shoto ; reader was a 1-A student tags: mutual pining, heavy make-out, thinly veiled sugar daddy shoto, reader does not go pro, touya might be a dick but he's a hero now, shoto is bad at feelings wordcount: 5.6k a/n: i do not fucking know what came over me, enjoy your food my little todorokinas. yes the title is what you think it is. no i will not elaborate.

You never did go pro.

Truthfully, you thought there would be more pushback when, in your senior year, you announced your plan to pursue a degree in early childhood education with a focus on non-conforming quirk development. 

The War changed a lot. It changed you, your classmates, and the world. But, through it all one thing stuck with you:

What if someone helped Tenko Shimura?

How different would his life have been? How different would history have spun? 

You graduated at the top of your class and joined the faculty at Chiba Prefectural Preparatory School for Quirk Specialties two years ago. 

Chiba Prep was opened eight years ago in response to a societal cry for more infrastructure around what was dubbed "non-conforming quirks": a nice way to say quirks that can injure, maim, or kill. Maybe even all three on a bad day. Some parents still see their child being labeled as a non-conforming quirk user in the national database as akin to social suicide. 

You see it differently.

Your quirk allows you to manipulate emotions — anger, sadness, betrayal, love, hatred. If you can feel it, you can sink it into another's psyche deep enough to drive them to act. You can even imbue things with feelings. For example, a cup of warm milk can transform into more than just a simple comfort, now it can hold the feeling of home and safety, or even exhaustion strong enough to put even the biggest foe to rest. 

You could easily use your quirk with nefarious intent. 

You could steep hatred in someone's bone so deep it drives them to harm themselves. You could sew fury so solid into someone's mind it drives them to violence. 

Just a touch and you can control others with something so intrinsically personal it only exists within themselves: their feelings.

What makes you any different from little Asuke, a shy little girl with a quirk that allows her to see people's greatest fears, and then manifest and control them? You're convinced she can use this for good, if only with practice. In your mind, her future is bright and glimmering. Perhaps she will become a therapist, focusing on exposure therapy? Or, maybe the most prolific horror novelist in their time? 

Or, bright and sunny Tao — a transplant whose parents sought out Chiba Prep's specialized education — whose heteromorphic quirk makes his bodily fluids, namely saliva, eat through nearly anything but his own biologics. A sneeze is quickly the most dangerous thing in the world for the cheery, lizard-bodied class clown. 

He's just a boy given a quirk that needs more care. 

He isn't a villain-in-training. 

None of them are.

It's important to teach them that young — and as their teacher for Year 3 of their elementary schooling, you aim to hammer that in as much as possible. They deserve to feel normal. To feel loved and supported. They aren't scary, they're children. 

So, you take it upon yourself to insist on pushing for privileges like field trips. There aren't many public spaces that welcome the classes of Chiba Prep with open arms. Over the years, there have been plenty of incidents. But, a day trip into the city to visit Tokyo's Hall of Heroes is green-lit with bubbling excitement from both faculty, the children, and their parents. 

You usually keep your history as a graduated member of Class 1-A quiet. 

After all, you never did go pro.

And even still, Shoto Todoroki never stopped thinking about you.

He remembers that weekend everyone moved back in for their last year before graduation. He remembers you smiling at him, and helping him drag up a duffel of luggage from the common room to his dorm. You made a joke about how you're sure he got taller over the summer, and how his hair is longer now. You said you liked it. 

It was the beginning of the end, then.

His crush was a silent, smothering thing. It made it hard to think. Shoto had enough on his plate thanks to Touya's acceptance into the Villain Rehabilitation Program and his father's insistence on staving off retirement. Not to mention his parent's divorce — no matter how amicable, it was still a separation. Add on training, tests, studying, finals, and j-term classes... And a desperate, writhing, burning crush on the nicest girl in class? 

Touya's elbow digs into Shoto's side.

It drags him back to reality — to the stifled quiet of the historical Hall of Heroes. 

Suddenly, the doors to the wing squeak open, and a tour guide ushers in the elementary school class. The buzzing excitement and wonder are visible on each of their faces as the attendant — one of the HoH's lead tour guides — excitedly explains the newest, in-progress addition to the Hall:

Endeavor's wing. 

There's a whisper of awe that ripples through the children as their teacher and co-teacher follow, and as the class moves through the large, open space. They're staring up eagerly at the gilded statue in the center of the room. It's larger than life and intimidating. Years ago, Shoto might have had to fight the odd tremble in his knees at the reminder it brings: to be small in his father's shadow again. But, things are different now. 

Very different.

Touya scoffs. "I thought this wing wasn't open to the public yet."

"They're just children," Shoto hums, turning his back on the gaggle across the way to inspect the large mural winding along the back end of the installation, "I'm sure it's—"

"Oh, ho, no way!"

Shoto quirks his brow at his brother's outburst. His elbow digs into Shoto's ribs again. 

"Ain't that the pretty girl you never got the balls to ask out your senior year?" comes the rasped drawl of his older brother's voice. Touya is clearly amused, his white hair hanging in his eyes as he leans forward to squint, "She is cute, Sho'—"

"Shut up," Shoto grits, turning his head over his shoulder; he tries to bite back the flurry of nerves that ignite in his gut, "Stop talking."

It is you.

You look... good. 

Happy. 

You're crouched by a small, timid girl in the back of the crowd. Your hand is in hers, and you're pointing upwards at the large paneled screens replaying Endeavor's most historic fights. You're explaining something to her, your knees bent as you squat. You look... the same. As if in the six years since they graduated, you sat still in time. 

For a second, it's like he's seventeen again.

It's his senior year, and he's stuck at the corner of the gym's edge with a half-empty glass of punch in his hand. The lights are low, and there's slow music playing. His tie feels too tight. Bakugo keeps telling him to 'ask her to dance already', and Kirishima is considering bashing his head through the wall. Even Midorya is trying to persuade Shoto. 

"It's prom, man! C'mon, this could be your last chance—"

Touya is about to be a real pain in the ass — his favorite pastime — and make some comment about your ass, but when he turns to lob the one-liner at his baby brother, Shoto's gone.

Shoto is on the move.

The crescendo of gasps draws your attention first.

Then, the cry of "WOAH, IT'S SHOTO!" leaves you dumbfounded. The rippling murmur of excitement bleeds into the children as their eyes — and the eyes of the tour guide — widen at the sight of the approaching Pro Hero. 

Shoto Todoroki.

He looks... good. 

Really good.

He's a bit older, and a bit more filled out than when you were both teenagers. You can see the strength in his arms and shoulders — it's a distant echo of his father's physique, though Shoto is so much more elegant and much... prettier. He's always been.

For a second, you're seventeen again.

It's your senior year, and you're sprawled across Momo Yaoyorozu's bed.

They had finally wrangled out of you who your crush was: something they hadn't been able to do in all their years as classmates.

There's a sticky, Miss Midnight-themed face mask clinging to your expression as you try to flip through the large magazine in your hands as nonchalantly as possible. Mina's voice, as she paints Ochaco's nails a bright pink on the floor, is sweet and saccharine as she looks up at you.

"I think you and Shoto would be, like, the cutest couple ever." 

You're still crouched when the tour guide nervously — like she was caught doing something naughty — introduces The Pro Hero Shoto to the already-aware crowd of elementary school students and their teachers. It's like igniting a match; the uproar of excitement leaves you laughing as three of your boys push forward to bombard him with questions about his quirk. 

Asuke is smiling shyly, now. That's a small win. She's intrigued by the appearance of a real hero, not the "scary statues" — and her big, fat tears stopped rolling the moment you laid a gentle hand on her to quell her anxiety over the new environment with a push of comfort through your quirk. She unhooks her pinkie finger from yours as you guide her towards your co-teacher. 

"Boys," you call with a crisp air of authority as you stand and lead Asuke toward the bulk of the field trip group, "What have we learned about personal space?"

"It's fine, really, Insight," comes Shoto's voice; as warm and placid as you remember. 

"Insight?" mutters your co-teacher at the presumed hero-name; a look of confusion plasters itself on her face, and her big, feline ears perk up. She leans in to whisper in a way that borders on conspiratory, "Do you two know one another?"

"Old classmates," you confirm, not daring to get into the finer details.

Shoto's attention is entirely rooted in the way you manage the kids. There's something beautiful about the ease with which you handle the bouquet of students; you quell the excitement into a manageable decibel like it's as easy as breathing. 

"Shoto," you start as you gesture to him, "Has a very special quirk — Toyamai, he has ice like you. And, fire like Tojiro. He can regulate his temperature. Can anyone tell me what that means?"

There's a wave of hands shooting up, a few me, me, me's rise from the gaggle. 

You're using him as a teaching moment.

Shoto's smile is soft.

You nod at Ogomi, excitedly nodding as the reserved child speaks up. Normally, he hates public speaking. But, recently, he's started working with the speech pathologist during lunch. The boy bounces a little as he answers. "He doesn't g-get too hot, or too c-cold."

"Exactly! Isn't that cool?" you grin at the lazy attempt at a pun, "This is why it's important to learn about our quirks as much as we can!"

Touya thinks this whole thing is just too cute. 

You're different than he remembers — but, granted, things were sorta different last time he saw you. He was a little too busy tryna kill his old man and lil' Shoto. He's different now, too. A changed man! A real licensed hero. Support items and all. 

He hangs back. 

He... I mean, he is a jack-ass but he isn't gonna ruin this for Shoto. 

...It's kinda cute.

Just about as cute as Fuyumi said it was. 

Apparently, Shoto had opened up to her and Natsuo about his feelings after graduation — about how he regretted not doing anything about it. Fuyumi then told their mum, who then off-handedly mentioned it to Touya... and well Touya dug in because, duh, he is a whore for good gossip. He might be the family's black sheep, but Shoto is the glue that binds. 

And he deserves to be happy.

Your co-teacher is ushering the kids to the next installation — a viewing of All Might's Legacy, a new documentary following the retired pro's teaching career. It will be a good wind down for them, in comfy seats and the dark. It's hardly the sort of content an elementary school student would find riveting, but it is All Might. And they love him.

You hang back. 

Shoto's heart is hammering in his chest.

"Hey."

"Hi," you greet back, closing the door to the theater and stepping forward as you weave your arms around you, "Long time no see."

"Yea," Shoto breathes, his hands in his pockets as he meets you halfway across the museum's marble floors, "I... I see you're teaching."

His eyes are as pretty as they were back then. Slate grey and piercing turquoise. "I'm in my second year," you confirm softly, fiddling with the material of your sweater, "Congrats to your old man."

You gesture up at the statue, then wave around to the rest of the installation.

Shoto inhales, then nods; he's staring at your face, blissfully realizing you're just the way you were all those years ago. Kind. "I'll pass it along."

"How's he handling it?" you ask, your eyes raking across his expression and trying not to stick to the sharp slope of his jaw, or the bob of his Adam's apple, "Retirement, I mean."

"He's happy, I think. Touya and I are working together and... things are...  good."

Last month, Endeavor finally retired. He cited his age, and his dedication to passing his legacy to his two sons: Shoto and Touya. Shoto has planted himself firmly within the Top Ten in the last year or so, and shockingly, Touya isn't far behind. People love an underdog's redemption story, you suppose. 

And the underdog in question can read a room. 

This is getting a little too sexually tense for even him.

"Heeeeey, girl," he rasps out, staggering backward with a thumb over his shoulder, "Nice t' see ya. I'll let you two catch up, yea? I'm gonna go pop my head into the theater, see how the kids are handling the snooze fest on screen—"

You jump.

How long has he even been there?

"Hi, D— Touya," you strain, wincing a little; the rehab'd villain doesn't seem to mind.

"Hi, teach'. That cool with you?" he asks, wobbling his thumb and quirking a pierced eyebrow; it's comical, like he's trying to disarm you with humor, "Don't want you thinkin' I'm corrupting your youths—"

"It's fine," you breathe, ignoring the sting of age-old mistrust. You know better. Shoto wouldn't be here, with him, if Touya Todoroki hadn't changed. Endeavor wouldn't be entrusting his legacy to the ex-League of Villain member if he didn't believe in his capacity for good, "Just don't be disruptive."

Casting judgment on someone whose life was nearly destroyed by his own non-conforming quirk would go against everything you taught the kids anyway.

"Touya's whole thing is being disruptive," Shoto grits as his oldest brother slips silently through the doors, "I apologize for him—"

"No," you wave him off, laughing a little, "Don't. It's... nice to see you two together."

Shoto's expression is soft as he wanders a little closer. "It took time — and a lot of therapy — but we've all managed to come out the other side."

"That's great to hear, Shoto," you breathe, your eyes flitting across his face, "I'm really happy for you."

There's a long silence, then — and you can't help but ignore the roil of butterflies in your stomach. The eye contact is heavy with some unspoken thing, and both of your tongues are weighted by secrets-never-turned-confessions. 

It's like finally this dance you've been doing around one another for years breaks — and the two of you throw caution to the wind at the exact same moment. 

"Would you like to—"

"Are you free—"

Hesitant, slow grins bloom on both your faces.

"Dinner?" is all he manages after a sweet moment of soaking up your soft smile, "If you're available...?"

You make yourself available.

Yaoyorozu almost dies when you call her that night — winded from tearing through your entire wardrobe. You explained you had nothing to wear a-and you needed something nice, and you only have an hour to get ready, because Todoroki — yes, stop screaming, Todoroki — is picking you up at 8pm.

Little bro is nervous. Touya can tell. 

From his spot on the sofa, the white-haired ex-degenerate scoffs. Natsuo is digging around for some cufflinks in Shoto's dresser.

"Seriously, Sho'? A suit?" 

"It's a nice restaurant," his brother says tightly, adjusting the collar of the black button-down, "I booked the upstairs dining room for privacy." 

"Who the hell told you t' do that?" Touya quirks a skeptical brow.

"Father was the one who suggested it."

"...That old dog." 

Natsuo rolls his eyes at the exchange before throwing his hands as he emerges from the closet. "Do you have any links that aren't emblazoned with U.A. High School's crest?"

The ones in Natsuo's hands have his graduation year on them.

Shoto winces.

"Want me to ask dear ol' dog of a dad?" Touya snarks from the corner, his posture becoming less and less upright as he scrolls on his phone.

"Already did," comes the soft voice of Fuyumi; she's smiling, padding into Shoto's room with a velvet box, "He offered up his nicest pair. He also says not to screw it up with Insight. He likes her."

Of course, he likes her. You worked under Endeavor for a brief work-study period during your third year. Shoto remembers hearing grumbled praise over dinner one night about your talent for de-escalation.

"You told him who I was seeing?" Shoto asks incredulously, taking the box and working the cufflinks on. He's starting to feel exasperated.

Fuyumi nods, popping down beside Touya. 

"He asked. I'm not gonna lie to him."

"Did y' tell ma?" Touya rasps, peeking up over his phone to inspect Shoto's outfit. Not half bad, honestly. He looks good in all black. A man after his own heart, "M'sure she's gonna be real excited—"

"Yes," Shoto grumbles, "I called her earlier—"

"Chiba Prep is a really good school, y'know," Natsuo buts in as he tries to find a tie that matches Shoto's outfit. Ultimately, though, the middle brother decides against it and tosses the options over his shoulder, "They're, like, on the leading edge for quirk therapies."

"Hey, nerd? Quiet down. The big kids are gossiping," Touya shirks, turning back to Shoto, "What did mum say?" 

"She wants me to call her after—"

"One, you're gonna call mum the morning after," Touya raises a finger, "Because if you don't get laid, I'll be so fuckin' disap—"

Fuyumi slaps Touya's chest. He lets out a pained yelp at the solid smack.

"Uh, ow," he rubs his sternum. "An' two, take a deep breath. You look like you're gonna shit yourself. Those are my pants and they're expensive."

Shoto lets out a long breath. 

Fuyumi's smile is sweet like honey. "Aw, Sho'! It's gonna go great. You two have known each other for such a long time, and catching up is going to be amazing. Just be yourself! Confident and kind—"

"—Hold the door open for her, and pull her chair out," Natsuo adds as he adjusts Shoto's collar for him, "Car door, too—"

It's Touya's turn. He's dead serious. "—And do not chicken out on kissing her at the end of the night. I swear to god."

Easier said than done.

You never did go pro.

Those years of hardened battle instincts have lost their edge. You try to remind yourself this is just Shoto, not The Shoto — but you're a little lost in the whole celebrity of it all when he picks you up in a very nice, sporty little car with ENDVRplates. 

You answer the door and he forgets how to breathe.

He has flowers for you. They're blue and blooming and beautiful. 

Fuyumi's contribution. 

You settled then you were going to kiss him at the end of the night.

The restaurant is... nice. Really nice. The sort of nice you could never aspire to experience on your teacher's salary. Even the valet is a concept that has your head spinning. But, Shoto handles it all with cool ease. The entire time, his hand is settled on your lower back. 

It feels like you've been lit on fire.

You're glad Momo was able to create a dress fitting for the occasion. It's sleek and black. Comfortable, too. Not much can be said for your heels on that front, but it's fine. 

Somehow, Shoto managed to book the entire upper floor of this place in all its glimmering glory — it's just the two of you alone in a sea of tables. 

The waiter is pouring you a glass of the chef's suggested pairing of sake.

You thank him, smile, and take a sip as Shoto unbuttons his suit jacket and watches you. 

For a second, you're seventeen again.

Sero and Kirishima were always in cahoots when it came to parties back then — somehow, between the two of them, they always managed to smuggle enough booze onto campus to obliterate any semblance of promised sobriety from even the most stoic members of 1-A. 

You remember one night, after a lot of hounding, you finally gave in and joined a few of your classmates on the back lawn for a few drinks. 

A few beers turned into a cup or two of wine, and then another big gulp of whatever deranged jungle juice concoction Kaminiari managed to cook up. It tasted terrible, but you were too drunk to really care. Shoto was no better. He was nursing his fourth drink of the night — a rarity he was even drinking at all — and seemed completely fine with the way your arms brushed as the two of you sat close in the grass. 

He was always so nervous around you. Now, he just seemed... happy. 

"I can't believe there is only one week left until graduation."

Graduation day was the last time you saw him. 

Until this morning, that is. 

You smile into your drink. 

"What?" you ask when his eyes never leave your face.

His fingers twitch towards his own glass. Shoto blinks, then rolls his jaw. He was caught staring. He clears his throat, looking a bit shy. "Nothing."

"Nothing?" you press playfully, cocking your head to the side.

"You..." he starts, then bawks. You're stunning, and it's making it hard to even think straight. He thought these feelings might have mellowed out over the years but seeing you again has just reignited everything. He feels like a hormonal teenager again, "You look beautiful."

Your expression falters into something lovesick. You chew your lip. "You're not so bad yourself, Todoroki."

He manages a half-smile. "Touya had me worried the suit was a bit much."

The idea of Touya offering him advice on his outfit strikes a chord in your heart. It makes you smile even bigger than before. "Well, you can tell Touya that I like it. A lot."

You rake your eyes up and down him. On purpose.

He notices.

Shoto's face feels hot. 

He tries to shake the bone-deep want that has swept his entire body up in its grip, but it's difficult when every single word out of your mouth reminds him just how in love he was with you back in school. You explain, excitedly, why you chose to teach at Chiba Prefectural Prep and catch him up on where you've been living since graduating. He's pleased to learn you're still in the area, living in the city, and decidedly in love with the commute to the school. 

Shoto's always been a good listener — but you can see how much he's changed when he begins to speak about his career. He seems so much more sure of himself than he was all those years ago. It wasn't that he was... unsure... but, no. He was shy. Quiet.

Now, less so. 

It's adorable. 

Dinner comes and goes with conversation over sushi that is far too good for you to even process. It's easy talking to him. It was easy talking to Shoto back, then, too but... Things are different. You're both different. Not in a bad way, but in a way that feels like coming home. 

While you both wait outside for the valet, Shoto shrugs his jacket off and puts it over your shoulders without a single word. Suddenly, you're cradled in a warmth that's very Shoto — his cologne clings to the collar and you bury yourself a little deeper into it. 

Shyly, you step closer and steal his hand. It's calloused and warm. He laced his fingers with yours as if practiced. You bite back a grin. You give his hand a little squeeze when you spot the car coming around the corner.

His silence is calming — and he squeezes your hand back. When you look up at him, you realize he's already looking at you. 

His face is close. It's so... intimate. Very. Nearly better than a kiss. 

But, you've wanted to kiss Shoto Todoroki since you were seventeen. 

The valet driver interrupts the moment with a respectful call of Shoto's name and offers the keys with a shake of the hand. With a little bit of hesitancy, Shoto remembers the thing Natsuo said — the car door, too — and moves around the passenger side to open the door for you. 

It's sweet.

Really sweet. 

The car ride back to your apartment is punctuated with easy conversation — you ask him about Bakugo and Midorya, and you're pleased to hear they're both doing well. He asks about Momo, and if you still keep in touch with Mina and Ochaco. He smiles to himself when you admit you did call Momo for help with an outfit. 

"She did a beautiful job," Shoto breathes, a palm moving from the gear shift to brush over the dress' fabric on your thigh.

His hand settles there. 

Your stomach does a flip. 

You chew your lip, swallow down a sudden burst of nerves, and let your hand rest over his. You squeeze it. Shoto tries to focus on the road. His gaze drifts for a moment at a red light, his heterochromatic eyes dancing across your figure. 

Keep it together. 

He isn't seventeen.

He's twenty-five. He's a Professional Hero. One of the Top Ten in all of Japan. He's more than capable of keeping it together in the face of physical touch from the woman he's dreamed about for years. 

...Right?

Green light.

His hand is still on your thigh when he pulls up to your apartment. 

The touch is relinquished in favor of putting the sports car in park. 

It makes your chest ache.

Shoto swallows thickly.

Do not chicken out on kissing her at the end of the night.

He'll never forgive himself. But, admittedly, he's bad at this. He's not good at reading body language, or even knowing himself enough to realize he looks mildly terrified as you blink up at him in the passenger's seat. His heart is hammering a mile a minute.

What if you don't want to kiss him?

When would he even kiss you? Now? Or at the door?

Why does he feel like he's going to die?

"This was really... Shoto, are you okay?" you ask as you unbuckle your seatbelt; you pause, your brows knitting tightly. 

"What?" he asks, blinking back to the present moment. The look of fear disappears, "Sorry. Yes. I'm fine."

You're working his jacket off your shoulders, gently leaning to fold it neatly in your lap. Your voice dips low, into something playful. "You didn't look fine..."

"I—" Shoto clamps his mouth shut as he leans an elbow on the center console, "Sorry. I suppose I'm just nervous."

"Nervous?" you grin, a little giggle punctuating your words as you wriggle in the red, leather seat, "Why?"

Your expression makes his expression crack. He ducks his head as he huffs out a laugh. You continue to egg him on via expression alone. "I... Stop it."

"Stop what?" you push some more, your back pressed to the door as you face him in the car, "You're the one being weird—"

"I'm not being weird—"

"Then what's wrong, Shoto?" you tease in a sing-song voice.

"I'm nervous because I want to kiss you."

His words are punctuated by a slow look that takes in every inch of your face. Butterfly wings kiss your stomach walls. And your knees. You feel a little tremble in your chest. 

It feels like someone has sucker punched you square in the sternum. Shoto's no better. He isn't entirely sure what the expression on your face means. Is that... good? Are you happy?

Your voice is a little quieter now. You duck your head and fiddle with his suit jacket as you lean back against the seat, a little closer now. 

"You don't need to be."

Shoto's breath catches at that.

So, he makes his move.

His hand comes first — his calloused palm settles nicely against your face, his thumb brushing your cheekbone as his pointer finger brushes the underside of your jaw. Shoto is slow. Methodical. It's like he's trying to ground himself in the moment. 

Truth be told, he thinks he might be blacking out.

Your eyes flit up his wrist — a dark leather band around his wrist with an expensive watch face, a dark dress shirt with glimmering cufflinks, strong arms and a broad chest, and you can see the dip of his collarbone where the top two buttons of his shirt remain undone. 

He looks so damn handsome with his sharp jaw, pretty eyes, and his trademark white and crimson hair. Even his scar is beautiful. 

The touch pulls you in like he's got his own personal orbit.  

Your elbows are braced along the center console, your eyes flicking across his face as his fingers continue to brush along the soft expanse of your cheek. You wring your fingers together. 

Then, his eyes stick to your lips.

"Can I kiss you?" he whispers, his breath fanning across your face. 

You never did go pro.

But, Shoto did. 

It shows. 

Because, at this moment, all you can do is nod feebly before you're swept into the sort of kiss people go to war for. It's the sort of kiss that sticks to your ribs, that feels like warm, fresh food. It's the sort of kiss that would drive you to the brink, that would make you nod and agree sure, let's get married and have three kids, let's name one after your father, and paint the house blue like your mother's favorite flower—

His mouth is eager, but not in an overbearing way. It's gentle. Slow. As if he needs to remind himself this is real and not some midnight fiction that leaves him aching and alone. Shoto reminds himself to be tepid, pliable, and easy, which is easier said than done when somewhere deep inside of him there's a seventeen-year-old screaming in victory. 

It's better than anything he could have ever imagined. 

And then you whimper. 

It's a sound tied between bliss and relief and it's muttered against his mouth as you lean in and let your fingers brush the fabric of his dress shirt. The tips of your fingers brush his abdomen and he flexes, the feeling foreign and warm. It warrants his other hand to drift to your face and you break for a breath; he doesn't care that there's lipstick smeared across his mouth. He's kissing you again — this time a little bit more feverish, a little bit more aching. 

You melt against him, this time your hands trembling to grip his wrists.

He needs to slow down.

He is not having sex with you in his father's car.

That's shameless.

He needs to slow down.

He has to, or he'll lose himself in this and he refuses to fuck this up. 

Shoto's breath is ragged when he finally peels himself away, his lip parted and eyes half-lidded. His grip on your face is still so soft, so gentle. It's very him. 

You're glad you didn't do this when you were seventeen.

It would have permanently altered your brain chemistry, you're sure of it. How could you ever kiss someone else again after that? 

He's rubbing your cheek with his thumb. You swallow, and try to level out your breathing. It's hard when he's still so close, when he's so... perfect. 

"I've wanted to do that," he murmurs against your cheek, "Since our last year at Yuei."

A well-kissed smile breaks across your face. You reel back, your nose wrinkling as you shake your head in disbelief. Shoto is smiling. A real smile. The sort that's so rare you can count on one hand the amount of times you've ever seen it in person. 

"Are you serious?"

"Very," he says, chastely pressing another to your other cheek as he leans back.

"Me too," you admit shyly, "Can we... do it again sometime?"

Shoto's eyes widen incrementally. Then, his smile eases back onto his face. 

"Are you free this weekend?"

"I can be," you reply easily with a honeyed look, "And I will be. For you."

"I get off patrol on Saturday around seven," he explains before asking timidly, "We could... do dinner again?"

"Works for me," you breathe as you move for the handle of the car door, "After all, I never went Pro. Weekends are free."

Shoto scoffs. 

Then, as you open the door and swing a leg out:

"Oh, and tell Touya I thought the suit sexy."

Shoto's laugh is dry. You leave his jacket on the seat and scurry into your apartment with a lovesick wave. He swears he sees the silhouette of a familiar ponytail greet you at the door, but he doesn't dwell on it. He waits until you're inside and the lights to the front door are shut off.

Then it hits him. He has another date with you this weekend. 

Not so seventeen anymore, Shoto Todoroki. 

[devotion-disorder]

be careful what you wish for...the village Killian's from is having a bit of a population crisis right now, and having a nice little human come by could be just what they need...

Oh noooo....I'm just a naive human lost in this big forest with no one waiting for me...would be a shame if some beautiful elves whisked me away and brainwashed me into thinking I'm their pet/breeding machine and only need their "love and devotion". That would be terrible /silly

- 🩵

wdym the beautiful elf men do not, in fact, have my best interests in mind and were planning something nefarious from the start </3 I was just gonna write down some quick thoughts but it kinda got out of hand LOL

Content warning for: implied drugging (hypnotics, aphrodisiacs), dubcon/ noncon touching (nothing explicit though), manipulation, slight obsessive/ yandere themes, general elven condescension?

Imagine that you’ve accidentally wandered too deep into the forest and lost your way, your shoes hardly holding up in the rough terrain, and the last remaining rays of the setting sun are snuffed out by the overgrown foliage…

To make things worse, you walk right into some sort of trap - a stumbling step is all it takes to activate the runic trip switch, and a suffocating cloud of purple gas is the last thing you remember before things fade to dark…

How clumsy of you! Good thing Priest Killian happened to be on his evening walks when he spotted your pitiful form twitching and writhing in the hunting trap he’d set up; carefully he scooped you up and went his way back to the village. Only the most observant would be able to discern that the Priests’ unmoving smile seemed a bit wider than usual.

It was a trap the elves set up for hunting animals, he’d explained. The poison was almost enough to be fatal, had he not been there in time to save you. It’ll also take a bit for all the toxins to be out of your system. No worries though, because Killian offers to take care of you in his quarters until you’re up on your feet again. 

You don’t even remember if you’d managed to give a response, what with lead-heavy limbs and relentless migraine pulsing in your head. Luckily, Killian treated you with utmost care. 3 meals a day (along with the antidote treatment) brought to your bed (well, his bed), and spoon-fed to you because you were too weak to even sit up. He massaged your stiff muscles and brushed your hair. He ran warm baths and washed you – and even then he never opened his eyes – so at least there was some comfort in that.

Under Killian’s care you gradually regain your strength, save for the occasional dizzy spell and fatigue. But he saved your life after all! Feeling indebted to him, you offer to stay longer in the village to help around. While Killian’s expression is ever-unreadable, you can’t help but sense a bit of…amusement from him upon your suggestion. Regardless, he agrees – so long as you agree not to wander too far outside the village, because it’s very dangerous out there, he said.

And of course, he maintained a watchful eye over you, shadowing your tottering form as you went around introducing yourself to the other villagers. How cute.

You worked whatever odd jobs the elves had for you. which isn’t much at all. Mostly just menial tasks, or perhaps relaying messages. Things that they could’ve easily done themselves with their magic, but it’s fun watching an over-enthusiastic little human do it instead, so eager to please. You would say they are…endeared, perhaps. Or maybe they’re just looking out for you, what with your unfinished recovery. Anyhow, the elves are charmed by the newfound presence in the village.

Killian gifts you a new set of clothes, made by the local tailor (you don’t remember visiting a tailor for measurements at any point though, strange). To help you feel more at home, he said. It's pretty, a delicate garment that flutters cool against your skin in the warm summer heat, with an unmistakably elven style of elegance. It is a little short but, well, elves are known for being tall so maybe they're not used to human proportions? The white silk is a bit sheer in places, and you tried to ignore how it clung to the contours of your body when you sweat…

You hadn’t expected elves to be so openly affectionate. Being a long-living race known for their high culture and intelligence, it made for the perception that they were maybe a bit prudish, engrossed in their endless pursuit of finer things to care about lowly desires. But you suppose the elves are as curious of you as you are of them. You got to know some of them quite well, and soon it was routine for them to envelop you in their embrace. They pet your hair and nuzzle into your neck (Killian said something about how common skinship is in elven culture), at times slipping their digits beneath your clothes…sometimes you don't really remember, because the medicine still made you a bit sluggish. But it's ok! Their affectionate nature is a surprise but one you welcome. You think. 

During all of which, your treatment continued. Just a little longer, Killian promised. The side-effects seem to show no sign of waning, if not worsening at times. Sometimes you struggle to recall what has happened and what has not. The elves didn’t seem to mind, gladly cradling your tired body when you are overcome with sudden bounds of weakness. You poor little thing, they cooed, one hand combing through your hair to distract you from their other that wandered along your body.

Some days the medicine leaves you feeling more flushed than usual, and a strange feeling you can’t quite place invades your senses; a deep, frustrating kind of yearning that throbbed in your core. You assume it's the side-effects of advanced elf sorcery/ enchantment in your antidote treatment. It’s a tad embarrassing, but you can’t really do anything about it when the elves (if not the Priest himself) check in on you so frequently. 

Your only reprieve comes when Killian slots himself snug against your smaller form at bedtime. Were you always this close? You’re not sure if you recall, trying desperately to suppress the suggestive thoughts flooding your brain. His cool hands trail over your body, and it feels way too good against your overheating skin, so good that you can’t even think about resisting as his lips come crashing on top of yours, when he slips his arm underneath your waist to push you closer, closer against him.

Stumbling out of Killian’s quarters in the dead of night, confused, and your vision blurred by hot tears, all you can think about is getting away from him, from this godforsaken place. The other elves stepped out of their houses from the commotion. It was as if something in the air shifted. Their friendly, curious pretenses have dropped completely, leaving a ravenous hunger and unyielding need in their place. The way they leer at your body, the disheveled elven outfit failing to provide much cover, makes your hair stand on their ends. The elves close in on you, their concerned voices laced with something unmistakably sinister. You’re trapped.

A gentle hand on your shoulder snaps you out of your stupor.

“Now, now, I’m sure we’re all very excited about our little one here, but everyone will have their turn sooner or later.” Killian explains. He leans close to your ear, whispering in a volume only audible to you. “Look at you getting everyone so riled up already. Aren’t you such a needy little pet?” You’re paralyzed in fear, but his husky voice in your ears is still setting your nerves alight. 

“I’ll give you two choices. Either you let me 'take care of you' back at home,” his arms snaked around your body again, lithe fingers fanning across your thighs. “Or we’ll give everyone a show, and maybe let them get...a preemptive taste, as well. What’ll it be?”

[sweetfwr]

WILD UNCHARTED WATER ˒˒ yjw

as the son of the nefarious pirate king, jungwon's sole duty is to capture you, the only daughter of the very royal family that threatens his livelihood and his home. however a few ship raids, late night ventures, and exchanges of hate (love?) letters later, it seems that you have captured him instead. body, mind, and soul.

or, once the pirate prince catches wind of your engagement, he’s perched on your window demanding an explanation.

pairing) pirate!jungwon x princess!reader

tags) fantasy au, forbidden love, enemies to lovers

wc) 2.7k

warnings) mentions of death and killing, reader & won are literally evil, making out

to say that your relationship with the pirate prince didn’t start in the healthiest of ways was a grave understatement.

before the clandestine correspondence, the whispered meetings in the shadows of the imperial palace, and his weekly and scandalously unauthorized visits to your rooms in the dead of night, there were flames. 

they engulfed your royal ship, swallowing the screams of your loyal crew as they burned alive, their charred remains scattering into the cold winds of the night. the air was thick with the stench of smoke and sea salt, drowning out everything except for the cackling of pirates as more and more stormed aboard the ship, all under the command of one man. and while the screams of agony broke your heart to pieces, you remained unbent and unbroken.

you refused to bow your head to the pirate prince, as he did to you. 

his eyes twinkled with mischief as he crouched before your kneeling form, your hands bound by thick rope behind your back as he brushed a stray hair out of your face with a gloved hand, face only inches away from yours. the firelight flicked over his features, casting him as the devil and your savior in the same breath. 

“your daddy would pay a pretty penny to have you back.” 

this man was no stranger, yang jungwon was the son of the pirate king—the very man who had made a name for himself as he robbed, slaughtered, and terrorized the citizens of your kingdom as he pleased. you should have known he’d send his pretty son after you on the voyage home from a diplomatic trip. and though you supposed he was quite sharp to have successfully planned and executed a raid on a royal ship… you were sharper. 

“you gonna hand me over, then?” you sneered, eyes never leaving his own, and you noted they were just about as dark as the night sky hanging over your heads. “sell me to whichever lord is the oldest and the ugliest to feed your fleet for a measly half a year before they’re back to starving again?”

he gave a humorless laugh. “smart girl, but not quite. why keep you alive to feed my crew for that measly half a year when i could serve your royal head on a platter to your father’s enemies for double the amount?” 

“a measly year, then.” you said nonchalantly, and his eyes darkened further than you thought possible. 

“choose your next words carefully.” 

paying no mind to his previous threats, you shifted uncaringly, straightening your back despite the ash filling your lungs and the blood staining your gown of silk. “clearly, the great pirate prince is ill aware of how much my head is worth spouting what i know.”

“and what’s that?” jungwon challenged you, raising a brow. 

“information,” you said simply, a glint in your eye that made even the stomach of the pirate prince churn. “names. wealthy, powerful names of hidden allies that would prefer to see you rise to the throne of the tideborn once the lard that sits on it is dead. they all sit on the table in my court.”

“you’ve got some nerve,” the pirate laughed mockingly, something telling you that you’d captured his full attention. “a royal hostage is negotiating terms while her ship burns and her men become fish food. who’s to say that i’m not loyal to my father?” 

you remained still, expression unwavering. “because you wouldn’t be standing here trying to impress your princess if you weren’t.” 

“i am not trying to impress you.”

“then why haven’t you slit my throat yet?” 

the silence that followed after said enough, and it was time for you to act now before you could no longer do so, heart hammering in your chest. slowly, you rose to the balls of your feet and took a careful step forward towards the unmoving pirate, the harsh winds whipping strands of your hair across your face. 

“you want it so bad, don't you?” you whispered, pretending not to notice the way jungwon’s shoulders subtly tensed as you slowly circled around him like your surroundings weren’t in flames and your hands weren’t bound behind your back. “you want the tideborn seat, and you’ll stop at nothing to get it. i can give it to you, yang.” 

when he looked you straight in the eye, looking like he was deciding on whether to gut you or kiss you, you knew you had won. something in your gut told you that you’d be sleeping soundly in your own chambers tonight. 

“…untie the princess,” jungwon spoke, and his men immediately came forward to cut the rope that bound your wrists together with a machete. just like that, you were free. 

“you’re offering to give me the seat of the tides?”  the corners of his mouth twitched upwards, like a babe being given candy for good behavior. 

“i’ll make you king of the sea,” you nodded, smoothing the material of your dress with your hands like this entire situation mattered little to you. “i’ll surrender all those who uplift your father’s reign and oppose yours to you. as long as you continue to do the same for those who contend for my throne, as i do for yours.” 

that must’ve got him, because the pirate prince stepped back and raked his eyes over your bloody appearance like he was reassessing all of you. 

“i’m impressed,” jungwon grinned, and it was the first time he had done so genuinely in front of you, you noted, trying your best to not be entranced by his dimples. “you’re dangerous. i thought you’d beg for your life.” 

you smiled, and in the eyes of the future king of the sea, the flames surrounding you only added to your appeal. 

“i am my father’s daughter.” 

and so, your agreement ensued. the price of his tideborn throne for the price of your crownseat. correspondence delivered via jungwon’s white raven—who you soon learned was named maeumi—turned into your men meeting down at the coastline to exchange information at dawn every fortnight disguised as unsuspecting fishermen.

when information was more sensitive, too precious to be passed to one another by bird or by proxy, the sneaky pirate would come to you himself, evading palace guards with alarming ease. 

he would come to you in the still of night, having scaled the stone walls in absolute discretion. you’d find your windows unlatched and jungwon perched at the ledge and staring up at you smugly, winds whipping at the curtains as if it were its own entity. sometimes, you’d come back to find him knelt down on the polished floors of your chambers, giggling and affectionately rubbing the belly of what was supposed to be your loyal guard hound. much to your disdain, it welcomed the intruder, wagging his tail in the air as soon as the sound of your window latches coming undone filled the room. 

his visits were brief at first, although he never went without leaving you the most precious gift of all: intel. whether it was a word, a map, or a name, the pirate personally ensured you were never empty handed, even whenever you fell short of your end of the deal. 

as the space between you grew smaller, his visits grew longer. he began to linger, like vermin, not only in your rooms but in your heart as well as your mind. he’d run his fingers over the dusty spines of your book collection and sit at the foot of your bed while you brushed your hair on the other end, a rarity for whenever your resolve became soft from exhaustion. intently, almost gently he listened to whatever information you had to offer him that week. 

and then he would leave again, but not without intel turning into the charred ships of rival houses and mysterious, unexplained deaths of your every enemy. sometimes you commanded it, sometimes you didn’t.

either way, blood spilled, and you learned to stop asking from whose hands it came from. 

once, jungwon showed up to your chamber with a gash below his ribs, breathing erratic as he clutched his wound with a bloody hand. “a skirmish,” he had explained, though not before jokingly reminding you that not even a barrel to the head could make him miss a meeting. you rolled your eyes, but stitched up his gash without wasting a second, mumbling incoherencies about stupid, reckless pirates while he smiled down at you almost affectionately. 

after that night, the pirate prince started to bring gifts. small and careless, but material ones nonetheless. vintage bottles of wine that you had no doubt came from ship raids, seashells for you to wear in your hair, and once, a ribbon belonging to a noblewoman you despised. you almost smiled, before harshly reminding yourself that he was the enemy of your house, and the man that threatened your life not many fortnights ago. 

you would find a way to double-cross him one way or another, make him feel a betrayal of a lifetime and undo him in ways that nobody else could before he could do the same to you. or at least, that’s what you told yourself as you snuck kisses in the shadows of your castle and called on him when you could confide in nobody else. yang jungwon of course, came running like a hound every time. 

by the time autumn leaves gave way to icicles and snowflakes, your guards began to stop asking questions about the sounds of unlatching windows and creaky floorboards that seemed to only ever occur at night. 

and you? you no longer bothered to lock the windows. 

it’s past midnight when the chill of the outside air nips at your neck and travels down your spine, but you’re far too busy undoing the braids in your hair to look back. after all, you already know who’s perched on your window ledge like a hawk before his boots even hit the floor. 

“you’re late.” murmur, still facing the mirror as you remove the gold earrings tugging at your lobes. 

“and you’re engaged.” jungwon says, voice low and venomous. your body becomes rigid in response, like you’ve been caught committing an unforgivable sin.

you shift your gaze to meet his eyes through the reflection of the mirror, and to say that the pirate looked unhappy was an understatement. brown eyes stormy and jaw clenched tight, he inches closer to where you sit in front of your vanity until the smell of sea salt mixes with the perfume on your collar bones. 

the expensive one, he notes, having smothered you in the bed inches away from you until the fragrance faded one too many times before. one that you had imported from the faraway islands in the east to impress your fiance, no doubt. against his better judgement, the thought only enrages him further.

“congratulations,” he laughs bitterly, blowing his bangs out of his face in frustration. he purses his lips in such a way that allowed you a glimpse of his dimples, and you almost coo. “who’s the lucky man? one of your daddy’s simpering lackeys?” 

you don’t answer and it seems to enrage him more than any words could have, so he speaks once more. “i threw my lookout overboard and into the seas last week for a lesser betrayal.” 

you stand abruptly, turning to face him with the same venom in your tone. “you hold no claim over me.” 

“i don’t,” he snaps. “yet i was the one burning cities for you while you remained here, writing your dainty little letters to me about who you wanted dead and when.” 

“you think i owe you because you did what you were told?” you sneer defiantly, trying your hardest to not be consumed by the inches of distance between your faces. “don’t mistake your usefulness for something more.” 

“that’s rich coming from the girl who near threatened to gut me if i didn’t kiss her silly while her father’s name day feast was going on outside.” he argues, hands cupping your shoulders and gaze peering into your soul as if he was begging you to just see him. 

“you need me. just about as much as i need you. all of you.” 

you shake his hands off your shoulders, taking a few steps towards your billowing curtains to maintain a distance between you and whatever the seven hells you were with jungwon. 

“say something,” the pirate prince pleads, something you never thought you’d live long enough to see him do. despite your consciousness screaming at you to not give him the satisfaction he sought so desperately, you cave. 

furiously, you whip your head towards where he stands and let go. “do you think i enjoy being sold off like a bartering chip when i was promised my own throne?!” you snarl, nails digging into your palms at the thought of being forced into a marriage forged in paperwork. “you think this engagement means anything? that i chose park sunghoon myself? 

“then say no,” jungwon scoffs, staring at you like you just twisted a dagger into his heart. to him, you might as well have done it and it would pain him far less. 

“just say the word, and i’ll kill him myself. i’ll burn the entire damned court to ash and all you have to do is say no.” 

you stare at him, eyes wide and chest heaving like he hadn’t meant to say it– not out loud. 

“you’d start a war,” you say, voice barely above a whisper. “stop pretending that you’re doing this for anything but your father’s piracy.” 

he steps forward without a word, the tension in the room so thick that you feel like it could descend and suffocate you at any moment. at least then, you’d be free from this torment. 

“i was,” jungwon’s voice drops. “and then i started seeing your face in the sea at the dead of night and wondering when i could come home to you next.” 

the pirate didn’t say it, not directly, but you hated him for saying anything that could even be remotely related to love first. you should have slapped him, scorning him for thinking he could ever be anything other than the enemy you entertained to save your own life. 

but instead, your fingers dig into the collar of his heavy coat. 

and you kiss him. 

there’s no softness in the way your lips move against each other, just months of tension, arguments and correspondence that could never satiate either of your appetites. he tastes of caramel candies and smells of smoke and sea salt, everything you hate about him down to your very core. and yet, your body continues to betray your mind as you loop your arms around his neck and his hands find your waist as if they belong there. 

when you finally break away from each other, you're breathless against his chest as jungwon wordlessly holds you close to his rapidly beating heart. “you’re the most awful man i know.” 

“you wait for me nightly regardless, princess” your pirate murmurs, and you hate that he speaks the truth. 

for a split second you wish that you could let yourself stay in his warmth forever. you wish that ending your engagement was as simple as saying no, and you know to yourself that the man holding you close wishes the very same. 

then, reality comes creeping back like the cold air billowing through your curtains. you shove him away. 

“go,” you say, face void of any previous emotion. “before i do something i regret.” 

for once, jungwon doesn’t have a sly remark. he backs away from you slowly, the expression on his face unreadable. 

“i’ll be back,” he says, and you know it’s a promise. 

and then he’s gone, swallowed by the darkness of the night and the sounds of the sea lapping at the coast like he always was, his final words to you ringing in your ears like a melody. 

you latch your windows shut, though not before sending a prayer to the heavens to ensure his safety. 

after all, he was your weakness, as you were his. 

taglist: @won1yoiz @dreamiestay @wonys-won

© SWEETFWR

[oh-no-its-bird]

This is a stupid one so gear up for that, but;

The Akatsuki celebrate Christmas with some sort of secret santa / gift swap thing.

Deidara gets Tobi, and is really mad about it because he'd gotten Tobi last year and ended up being mocked for his shitty gift giving skills (among other things)

This leads him to basically go, "shit ok fine. I will give this motherfucker THE best gift. A gift so good he will have no choice but to shut the hell up and just say thank you"

And so he's agonizing over what to give him, because also Tobi is a fucking weirdo and it's so hard to predict him. Deidara could spend hours of time thinking something up and then and hundreds of ryo actually getting something and the freak would make fun of it somehow, but if he got him a misshapen snail shell off the side of the road he might lose his mind in gratitude.

So this is like, a whole puzzle really

Then, he has it. Isn't there some Konoha nin the guy is not so subtly obsessed with...?

So yeah, Deidara kidnapping Kakashi (possibly roping someone else into helping him) as a surprise Christmas gift for Tobi.

This is about to be the worst most humiliating thing to ever happen to Kakashi.

We're going the itadei route because I love itadei, Deidara somehow ropes Itachi (and Kisame) into helping him kidnap Kakashi.

Deidara originally goes for Kisame for help thinking smthn up to get for Tobi, since they seem to get along, and Kisame is the one to mention his Kakashi obsession.

Deidara is like, "oh fuck???" And announces his new plans

Itachi is within earshot and makes a comment on how that's a stupid fucking idea, and seeing as Deidara couldn't even take him down, he'd count his chances with Kakashi.

(Which. Is a bit of an odd scale but don't think ab it too long)

Deidara is like "bitch??? So you can do better?? Huh???"

And Itachi is like "not that I would want to throw myself into such a useless fight. But yes, I could do infinitely better than you. In a lot of aspects in, frankly."

So this devolves and basically Itachi ends up tripping and falling and accidentally volunteering himself to help kidnap Kakashi.

Which, by the way, is not really something either he OR Deidara wants. But he's here now, so.

(*Itadei noises*)

Kisame also possibly ends up coming along for the ride too

So anyways, these guys head off to kidnap Kakashi !! Good for them.

Umm skipping through the entire adventure, Deidara and Itachi bicker (Deidara much louder than Itachi) Kisame treats this whole thing like it's a free comedy show, things (inevitably) get blown up, and, of course, Kakashi is ambushed

So like. Akatsuki, right? Terrorist organization with a goal of doing nefarious things to Jinchuriki. Obviously, Kakashi is kidnapped by them and assumes the worst.

He's a high ranking jonin, ex ANBU captain, close to multiple Hokages, and they were clearly directly targeting him. So yk, he's on guard. Tries to escape several times over, till Itachi dumps him head first in a genjutsu

(one that he loosens when it's Deidara's turn to keep watch, to give him someone to actually watch over so he can "feel useful" (and to annoy him)) <- this is also very disorienting for Kakashi

But instead of torturing Kakashi, when they arribe at their base they ?? Wrap him in ribbons ?? Like a fucking Christmas gift ???

Kakashi has no idea what is going on.

And then they dump him in what is clearly some guys bedroom ???? Without much else security ?????

Kakashi has no idea whats going on.

They do share a bit, and like, Kakashi picks up on what's happening pretty quick (though it makes the entire thing no less insane)

Apparently one of the Akatsuki members is... really into him...? Which, actually, is incredibly valuable information to have.

In general this entire thing is super educational for Kakashi— Deidara doesn't give a fuck what Akatsuki secrets he may let loose, Itachi is checked out from all of this and doesn't care enough to stop Deidara from running his mouth, and Kisame is somewhere in the realm of "as long as they don't talk about anything of our mission, it's probably fine?"

So like. Kakashi is learning things rn. Valuable things. Names and dynamics and whatever the fuck is happening in Itachi's corner of the world (that last bit he's especially interested in, both bc Konoha defect, Sasuke's older brother, and also just. Hey, he helped train that guy. Team ro nostalgia or whatever. There's something there)

They don't... seem to be interested in harming him...?

So for now, even as they leave him in a room he could maybe escape from if he tried to, he kinda self assigns himself a lowkey infiltration mission. A classic "get into their camps via being a prisoner but spy on them from the inside, since that position sees more than the outside anyways."

Which is to say: he doesn't try to escape.

Instead, he buckles in to wait and see where this takes him

So anyways then Obito gets back from wherever he's been off screen. Doing terrorism, probably. And he's also just in time for the akatsuki Christmas party, yippie

And Deidara is like, swanning around, nose in the air, "oh Tobi you'll NEVER guess what gift I got you... really you'll never guess... but it is GREAT and I am winning Christmas FOREVER after this"

And Obito is kinda curious but not too optimistic (he's like 80% sure it's gonna be another clay sculpture that blows up in his face like last year. Though maybe this year it'll be shaped like something he likes...?)

But he's in Tobi mode so he's giggling and going "omg senpai I can't wait <33 I hope you got me a cool stick teehee"

And then Deidara guides him to his own room, and they have a bit of an audience just from how fucking loud Deidara has been bragging about this (also multiple people at this point know what he did and they want to see the reactions)

And Obito opens his door.

And it's.

Kakashi.

In his room.

On his bed.

In an Akatsuki uniform. Wrapped in ribbons.

And they make eye contact. And Kakashi goes, "Maah, I don't suppose you're—"

Obito closes the door.

Obito opens the door back up again.

"That was a little rude, don't you—"

Obito closes the door.

Obito crouches on the floor, just, head in his hands. He might be hyperventilating a little bit.

Deidara is directly over his shoulder going "Huh? Huh? What do you think? Are you speechless or what? Hey, where's my thanks? Do you know how hard this was to do? I had to deal with fucking Itachi to do this, you know, so—"

And Obito, not in his Tobi voice but in his real, much deeper normal voice, interrupts him with, "I need you to shut the fuck up right now"

Deidara does shut up, actually. Miracle that that is. For all of like 10 seconds and mostly out of shock.

But then he's very much NOT shutting up as he puts his hands on his hips and starts going off about how this was SUPER HARD TO DO and Tobi BETTER BE FUCKING GRATEFUL !!!!!!!!!!

Obito is still crouched on the floor with his head in his hands going through every emotion known to man at once.

Kisame and Itachi are directly behind them eating popcorn w some other misc Akatsuki

Obito finally finds his words, which are "you KIDNAPPED KAkAshi??????!???????"

And Deidara is like "YEAH BITCH SINCE YOURE SUCH A SAPPY LITTLE PUPPY DOG FOR HIM I THOUGHT ID GO ABOVE AND BEYOND AS YOUR SENPAI !!! BUT IF YOURE GONNA BE UNGRATEFUL ABOUT IT THEN MAYBE ILL JUST GIVE HIM TO SOMEONE ELSE THEN!!!!"

and Obito is like "YOU CANT JUST G IV e HIM TO PEOPLE !!! HES— HES KAKASHI—!!!" and then quickly corrects himself with, "I MEAN— HE'S A MAN!!!!!"

and Deidara is like "ILL GIVE ANYONE TO ANYONE I DAMN PLEASE!!!!" and whirls around and points at Kisame and goes "YOU. DO YOU WANT HIM?"

And Kisame, who doesn't want him but thinks this whole thing is very funny, just goes, "he's cute."

Which sets Obito off in an entirely different direction, bc now he's screaming about how NO ONE IS GETTING KAKASHI because they are going to PUT HIM BACK IN KONOHA WHERE HE BELONGS

And Deidara is fully screaming too now because he went through SO MUCH FUCKING WORK TO GET THIS MAN HERE!!!! DO YOU KNOW HOW HARD HE WAS TO CATCH!!!! DO YOU KNOW HOW HARD IT WAS TO SUBDUE HIM!!!!! AND HE HAD TO DEAL WITH ITACHI THE WHOLE TIME!!!!!!! THE WHOLE FUCKING TIME!!!!!!!! HIS SMUG ANNOYING ATTITUDE!!!!!!!!!

Itachi continues to eat his popcorn.

Obito and Deidara continue screaming at eachother till Deidara finally goes MOTHERFUCKER YOU ARE NOT WASTING MY HARD WORK and pushes Obito into the room then locks it.

Kakashi, who has heard absoloutley every word that was screamed directly outside his door, and also now feels a lot more safe and secure about his current situation (even as he has come to the tragic conclusion that he was kidnapped by idiots), gives a little bit of a wiggle and goes,

"I don't suppose you could untie me?"

Now. Obito could technically escape, either way kamui or just shifting through the walls

But it would require giving away one of his his trump cards to Kakashi. And also he... well. He does want to, to be clear. He is crawling out of his fucking skin with the desire to be anywhere but here

But at the same time, he... doesn't want to waste this opportunity to just be looked at by Kakashi

Not hiding in the shadows, invisible.

So anyways Obito and Kakashi like, talk idk. Maybe they kiss, who knows.

Kakashi is now fully aware that this guy is apparently a freak about him (and a stalker??? The others mentioned him knowing things he should not know about Kakashi, which is worrying) and he will use this knowledge to his advantage

Obito is not immune to Kakashi taking advantage of him somehow, nor is he immune to potentially letting Kakashi take advantage/trick him somehow, while pretending to be ignorant and keeping that supposed ignorance as a shield to justify to himself why it happened at all

What exactly happens in that room and what happens next is up for the readers to decide, have fun with that

Anyways. Next Christmas Deidara gets Itachi and is, yet again, really fucking mad about it.

He gets way overly invested in giving him the "best" gift, seeing it as an opportunity to "make that bastard be humble and say thank you"

And then because apparently all Deidara seems to know how to fucking do is kidnap people, (tho to be fair, "kidnapping people" is like one of the core foundations of the Akatsuki) he decides a great gift would be kidnapping that little brother of Itachi's for him !!!

He can kill him, torture him, whatever— Deidara doesn't care, he just wants the credit. Man, he's such a good gift giver.

Obviously, handing over the "present" (a terrified Sasuke) goes about as well as Obito's own Christmas gift the previous year. Possibly worse. Itachi is losing his fucking mind but quietly (the most dangerous way to lose it) and on the inside (there are nuclear explosions happening in his brain)

Sasuke is convinced he's about to be murdered and Itachi now has to think of a reason why he can't do that and also hopefully get Sasuke back to Konoha. But also if he just lets him go like he wants to, Deidara will legit lose his fucking mind, which would be annoying.

Hmmm. Torture his brother (again) or deal with Deidara potentiallg throwing a fit because no one ever "appreciates" his hard work in gift giving. What a difficult choice.

Anyways in another world, instead of fucking kidnapping the man, Deidara just made a vaguley horny Kakashi figurine for Tobi and had Sasori help him paint it.

Which ended up getting Obito to spiral and custom commission several more pieces of vaguley horny Kakashi merchandise, till he had a room full of it and could no longer deny the fact he's a certified freak

Umm then Itachi and Deidara make out sloppy style the end

[ramblings-of-a-chaotic-neutral]

Here's a continuation of my "Arthur becomes Emrys's familiar" au since that's what won the poll!

You can find part one of this au here!

A quick recap if you didn't see my previous post: the basics of this au are that Arthur performed a ritual with the help of the druids to lift a curse that was placed on Camelot by Morgana, but in doing so, he bound himself to Emrys, the god of magic, as his familiar and servant. Because of this, Arthur can now physically see Merlin's magic as strands of golden dust and can hear messages telepathically given to him by Merlin. Merlin, meanwhile, tried to stop Arthur from performing the ritual and is now just desperately trying to keep his magic a secret from Arthur, who misinterprets the magic he sees swirling around Merlin as a threat from Emrys to keep him complacent.

Alright, now that I've finished the recap, onto the new stuff!

After Arthur spent a few months in Camelot under Emrys's control and seeing the threat of magic everywhere around him, he felt like he was on the verge of a mental breakdown. Emrys still hadn't even told him what his plans for Arthur were, which led Arthur to believe that the god no doubt had some heinous plan that would be torturous for Arthur. After all, what other plan could the god of magic have for the king of the land that had eradicated his worshippers for decades besides pain and death?

The longer Arthur waited for Emrys to reveal anything about his plans or to give Arthur some terrible order that would set in motion Camelot's downfall, the more nervous and paranoid Arthur became. Because did it seem like the buzzing in his head was getting louder each day, or was that his imagination? Was Emrys slowly taking control of his mind without Arthur even knowing?!

All Arthur knew for certain was that Emrys wanted him alive to do his bidding. Now that Arthur could see Emrys's magic, he could see how the golden dust strengthened his armor, enhanced his weapons, and attacked his enemies. On certain occasions, it even protected Arthur's loved ones.

(Arthur swore that he was never as close to a heart attack as he was when he saw those golden strands of light bind themselves around Guinevere and roughly pull her from her chair. Arthur had thought for a terrible moment that Emrys had found some fault to punish Arthur for, and the horrible god was taking it out on his wife. However, Arthur was relieved beyond words when he saw an arrow hit the back of Guinevere's chair, where she had been sitting only a second before. Emrys wasn't punishing him through Guinevere, he was saving Arthur's wife. Why would he do that though? Did the god also need Guinevere alive for his plans?)

Merlin had also been acting strangely after the ritual. Arthur could see that Emrys's magic curled itself tightly around Merlin, like a large snake poised to strangle its prey. Arthur knew that this was a ever-present threat from Emrys, that if Arthur took one step out of line or disobeyed in any way, Merlin would be the one suffering for it.

Since the ritual, Merlin had been even more fidgety than usual, if that was even possible. It was like something was causing him an unusual amount of anxiety. Arthur just knew that Merlin's constant state of discomfort was because of the magic surrounding him, perhaps Merlin could sense the danger that was always around, even if the other man couldn't see it? Still, Arthur didn't want to tell Merlin about the magic constantly surrounding him, it would give poor Merlin a heart attack! His loyal manservant always looked scared, just for a split second, when magic was even mentioned, and Arthur didn't want to give Merlin the fright of his life by telling him that he was now being targeted by the god of magic because of Arthur's actions.

Emrys truly was a wily and devious god! Of course the nefarious god of magic wouldn't put Arthur's burden on Arthur's shoulders alone. No, it was the way of magic that it targeted the innocent, threatening people that had nothing to do with the ritual in the first place! This curse was Arthur's to bear alone, but of course Emrys would not abide by that!

Arthur tried to keep his cursing out of the god in his own thoughts to a minimum, just in case Emrys could hear his thoughts, which was entirely plausible given their mental connection. Eventually, it all becomes too much for Arthur. He fears that he'll be ultimately used as a tool to aid Emrys in the destruction of Camelot, so he makes plans to secretly give the crown to Gwen and resign all of his power. He still has to physically stay in Camelot, who knows what evil Emrys would rain down upon the kingdom if he realized that his pawn had left, but at the very least Emrys couldn't manipulate Arthur into ruining Camelot of Arthur wasn't in charge of Camelot.

Merlin, having spent ten years convincing Arthur that he's a great king and will lead Camelot into the golden age as its king, hearing that Arthur is planning on abdicating the throne in order to foil Emrys's plans: YOU FUCKING WHAT?!

Merlin, during all of this, has been using his connection with Arthur as sparingly as possible. He knows how much of a toll this who "familiar" thing has been for Arthur, and he wants to make it as small of a burden as possible, only giving Arthur life-saving and non-invasive commands.

But Merlin absolutely will NOT allow Arthur to give up his throne, to throw away their destiny, over a threat that isn't even really a threat! So, with a heavy heart, Merlin decides to use his "Emrys voice" to give Arthur a stern talking-to.

Merlin was hoping for his mental lecture to come off as a parent gently guiding a child away from making a terrible mistake, but on Arthur's end, he has a pissed off and sleep deprived deity shouting at full blast inside his mind about "abandoning his destiny" and "not trusting in fate".

For Arthur, it's the most terrifying thing he's ever experienced, and he can see the golden threads around Merlin flashing brightly around him when his manservant comes to wake him the next morning. Arthur gets the message: he has displeased Emrys, and Emrys is only going to give him one warning before Merlin bears the punishment for Arthur's disobedience. And however much Arthur wants to ensure that Camelot is protected from Emrys's plots, he cannot lose Merlin. So, Arthur calls off his plans to abdicate, in accordance with Emrys's commands.

(Arthur hates it like nothing else in the world. Not even following Uther's orders made rage and frustration flare up in his chest as it did now. Emrys knew exactly where to apply pressure to make Arthur break, and the villainous god had done exactly that.)

However, Arthur's attempt at abdication and Emrys's subsequent rage still did not answer Arthur's question: what plans did Emrys have for him? For what purpose did the evil god need Arthur alive and on the throne for?

Arthur wouldn't get any answers until the next battle against Morgana. Arthur's army was poised to battle against Morgana's Saxon hoarde in the morning, but Arthur couldn't get any sleep. Arthur knew that it was imperative for him to lead from the front lines as a strong and noble king, fighting alongside his loyal knights. However, Arthur couldn't shake the doubts rising in his mind. He was the familiar to the god of magic now, how did he know that he would not be forced by Emrys to betray Camelot in the heat of battle? Surely Emrys would be favoring Morgana in this battle?

So, in the privacy of his tent, Arthur knelt down and prayed for the first time since the ritual. Arthur had tried every other possible way of communicating with Emrys, but their mental connection either seemed to be one-sided or Emrys was ignoring all of mental messages for him. However, Arthur knew that Emrys couldn't possibly resist hearing what made a Pendragon so desperate that he would humiliate himself in such a way to the god of magic.

That night before the battle, Arthur prayed for Emrys to please help him protect his home and his knights. Arthur told Emrys that regardless of Emrys's feelings toward Arthur, his knights were good men who deserved to live to see another sunrise. Arthur begged for Camelot's innocent citizens to be spared from Morgana's wrath.

To Arthur's shock, he heard Emrys respond through their bond. His voice was softer than Arthur had ever heard it. In fact, the voice was so soft and gentle, Arthur swore that it sounded like Merlin's voice for a split second: I will be with you.

Arthur felt only slightly comforted by that. It could have been a sly trick from Emrys to get Arthur to lower his guard before the battle, but for some reason, Arthur didn't think that it was.

During the battle itself, Arthur is surrounded by complete chaos. At one point, he surrounded by at least eight enemies, having been cut off from his knights. He readies himself to either cut down his opponents or go down fighting when, all of a sudden, the strings of golden dust that had been knocking enemy soldiers off their feet rushed towards Arthur. Arthur braced himself, but when the light touched Arthur, it simple diffused itself into his skin, like it did at the end of the ritual that landed Arthur in this whole mess.

However, this time, the golden light that clung onto Arthur's skin didn't simply fade. Instead, it grew brighter and brighter, nearly forcing Arthur to close his eyes against the luminosity of it! After the light had grown to a blinding glow, it flew off of Arthur's skin with a blast, violently knocking away any Saxons that it hit. When Arthur's sight cleared and he looked around, he could see that all of Morgana's front lines, encompassing at least a thousand fully-armed Saxons, had been decimated by the blast.

Arthur stood alone, still separated from his men, and looked all around him with awe and horror in equal amounts. He could still feel the golden light on his skin, a slight tingling sensation that made the hair on his arms raise. Did... did Arthur just perform magic?! Had he blasted away all of those soldiers?!

Oh god, this was Emrys's plan all along, wasn't it! To turn Arthur into some power-hungry sorcerer corrupted by magic!

As Arthur's panic worked its way deeper into his chest and up his throat, Emrys spoke to him once more: That was my doing, Arthur, not yours.

With hysteria still gripping his chest, Arthur tilted his head to the heavens and shouted: "Give me more of an explanation than that for once you bastard! I need answers!"

And, shockingly, Emrys responded to him: I merely used you as a conduit for my magic. I was channeling my power through you. Be at ease, young king, for you are no sorcerer.

(Merlin, hidden nearby, mentally gives himself a pat on the back for both sounding sufficiently god-like and successfully channeling his magic through Arthur to make it drastically more powerful for the first time, since he was saving that particular ability for a real emergency, like that Arthur getting surrounded by angry Saxons. He'd wanted to avoid freaking Arthur out with that ability, but he'd take a panicked Arthur over a dead Arthur any day.)

After they return to Camelot victorious, Arthur is morose once more. How can his loves ones even be safe when they're in the room with him if Emrys could turn him into a living magical weapon at a moment's notice?!

(And one time skip and a dramatic magic reveal later, followed by a tense and emotional confrontation between Merlin and Arthur, Arthur would be pissed beyond words that he'd been made into a servant FOR HIS OWN DAMNED SERVANT!

Once Arthur works through his anger towards Merlin, he realizes that the whole ridiculous situation does make for some fun banter though.

And if Merlin's able to save Arthur from a fatal wound after Camlann thanks to their magical connection, then the prophecy would just say that they were truly two sides of the same coin: each a king and a servant to the other.)

Phew! That was a long post! Well, I hope that everyone enjoyed this au idea! I'll see you all again soon!

And, as always, thank you so much for reading through my ramblings! :D

[bluewolfangel01]

How the brothers make sure you're safe in the Devildom: Older Bros edition

Lucifer

Papa Luci mode activated

He has to know where you are or where you're going if you want to go out

It doesn't matter to him that you have 7 of the most powerful demons under your command or that you're training under humanity's most power sorcerer

You are required to have someone with you when traveling anywhere in the Devildom

If he doesn't know where you are, for some reason, he while be doing everything he can just to figure out your location

Of course he isn't going to panic just yet mind you, he'll first ask his brothers if they know where you are

Ex. he makes Levi track your phone or asks Mammon to locate you via crow familiar

If none of them know, then he's going to ask the dateables and side characters

And if they don't know?

He (and the everybody else of course) are going to tear the Devildom apart to make sure that you're okay

And if you are not? May Father have mercy on whoever dared to lay a finger on you cause Lucifer won't

If he starts getting on your nerves about always having to know a general area of where you are, don't hold it against him to much

He just doesn't want you to get hurt, cause if you were you'd have a very said and pissed off Luci on your hands

Mammon

Two words: Crow familiar

Around when you made a pact with him, he gave you a crow familiar

He claimed that it was to make sure he didn't have to deal with Lucifer's punishment if you ever died or even got hurt

Don't let him fool you, that man just wants to make sure you're safe cause he cares about you so much

He has so many crows he sadly can't keep track of ALL their names, so he let's you name yours

The crow will of course love you to bits and do things for you because of his connection to Mammon and cause you treat them so nice

Pls have some seeds on you, the crow will adore you even more if you do

Whenever your out the crow will follow and watch you from a distance or maybe even close by depending on how big the crowds are

If you're ever in trouble and can't handle it (or even if you can) the crow network is put into use to alert Mammon

The second he is told he drops whatever it is that he's doing and he's rushing to get to you no matter what

He'd take out the threat so fast, you blink and it's gone and in its place is Mammon

He's smiling at you and saying how he just so happened to be in the neighborhood

Whatever the threat was seems to have disappeared and Mammon leads you away saying how he wants to show you something he wants to buy nearby

But if you listen closely, you can hear a series of loud caws coming around the area you were just at

Simp

Levithan

Although he doesn't go out of his room much, that doesn't mean that he can't protect you from the outside

Like previously mentioned, there's a tracker on your phone (all the brothers have the same on theirs, don't feel bad)

The only reason he checks it is either because Lucifer asked him or it's been a bit since he's seen or talked to you and wants to know that you're okay

The other way he protects you is checking online and keeping a lookout for any potential threats or nefarious plans against you

He won't intervene unless said people seem to be very serious or actually putting their plan into motion

If such a plan is in motion, he warns the rest of his brothers

No matter what arises if he either ends up stopping or warning the others about there's always the same result

Anything they want online, somehow they can't find it anywhere

They want to simply look about the internet? They best be prepared for all the pop up adds and bugs imaginable

Levi is making sure they never even think about hurting you ever again

This turned out longer then I originally thought it would be.... I promise to write about the other brothers!

[heresmyfiddlestick]

The Story and the Engine. I'm so relieved I gave my friends a rundown via PowerPoint presentation of the Doctor Who Is a TV Show Theory before this season began because we just keep winning. when I saw it was Inua Ellams and a barbershop I knew what we were doing - it's about communal storytelling as a means of keeping a community and culture, specifically African and diaspora culture. if you don't know about Ellams' play Barber Shop Chronicles, read up about it

holy shit is it delightful to see 15 in Africa. he is chumming it up in the market, he has a secret handshake with Omo. the Blackness of this episode was refreshing and inspiring. Ellams specifically addresses the differences in attitude the Doctor has experienced having changed his skin tone-- which is a really nice mirror to last year's episode 5, which didn't say it outright but really made you feel it along with him.

i'm really amused by Belinda just hanging back in the TARDIS. what was she planning on doing? she doesn't have a bedroom, and this console room doesn't have chairs. love that the TARDIS is helpful to her, though. she probably has some sympathy for Belinda, and we know she had a thing for the previous nurse passenger...

then of course we've got the whole conceit of the barbershop. we're telling stories to power some nefarious machine. an enigmatic man with a goatee and a weird little handheld doohickey and a pseudonym is holding people hostage. he's the Master. an exceptionally gorgeous but nonetheless mysterious woman walks in and the Doctor can't quite place her... no wait, she's the Master. oh wait, they're talking about gods-- it's another Pantheon thing?

NOPE! and thank god for that, too. it was great that we were able to have so much talk about real-world gods and not get dragged into the multi-season Pantheon arc. good to have the distinction between Doctor Who gods (ineffable and terrifying) and real-world gods (MCU fans)

(speaking of: i watched on Disney+ and that Endgame namecheck really added another layer of meta)

to be honest, the ultimate explanation of what The Barber is up to left me a bit cold. i really love it with my {{esquivalience}} hat on: we are unraveling the relationship between stories and storytellers, between original creators and the work that exists separate from them, between what stories are valued more than others (The Barber doesn't stop Abby while she is braiding the Doctor's hair, even though she is telling a story about why he should). this is all great and juicy and full of the language of rope. but there was just something that felt a bit uneven about it. a bit abstract, maybe. part of why i'm thrown is that... The Barber is an immortal human? and this was not really touched further on. not that we need to stop and explain everything that happens in our sci-fi show...

back to the ramble

how did the Doctor know that story about Belinda? i don't think she will have had a moment to just stop and chat with him about this one shitty shift. maybe he spoke to the woman she saved while he was looking for her? good to see Mrs. Flood get a look-in. mighty sturdy fourth-wall on this show, with the amount of people trying to bust it down

i loved the Fugitive Doctor jumpscare. i love leaving her as unexplained as possible. i love her existing in the back of the Doctor's mind

The Barber's first little beginning of the Nexus... that's a loom, right? that's looms? #loomwatch

oh and one last thing. Nigeria in the real world is where several formerly-lost 60s episodes have been found, notably The Enemy of the World and most of The Web of Fear in 2013. nothing in the story about that, but it is another great echo in the echo chamber of the TV show theory, especially with the recent literal depiction of film being burned this season

great ep. great season.

[trivia-yandere]

trivia-yandere's valentine's day masterlist

a collection of short stories - please be mindful that this is a yandere based account and some of the fics (maybe not all) posted on here would have smut, yandere/dark themes, dub-con/non-con scenes/moments, etc. each fic will have their own warnings - please do not skip! some fics will be posted on explicit-tae

2025

beast of busan: (jungkook) you’re the only reporter who wasn’t scared of documenting the valentine’s day crimes of jeon jungkook - notorious serial killer known as the beast of busan. yandere (02.01)

survival: (jin) you apply to a dating show in hopes of winning the heart of a millionaire. what you didn’t know was that you would be competing to death for the heart of one man while those on the dark web watched. yandere (02.04)

hard: (taehyung) it’s valentine’s day and even though your (arranged) husband has spent thousands on gifts, all you can think about is who he spends the other 364 nights with. (02.06)

family matters: (yoongi) the only way yoongi, your brother-in-law, would agree to be your sperm donor is if he could be the one to fuck said sperm into you.  (02.10)

ungodly hour: (jimin): It's your turn to make jimin your "bitch" during taehyung's 'hallow-tine's day' party. (02.14)

2024

payment plan (jin) - your husband and you find yourself bankrupt and dead broke thanks to his gambling problem. his younger brother - successful businessman kim seokjin - offers a helping hand free of charge. unbeknownst to his brother, you would be the one paying seokjin for his charity. yandere | completed (02.01)

dilemma (yoongi) - being single and broke on valentine's day is not what you expected- especially when your dealer is waiting for his payment. completed (02.03)

love you [just a little too much] (hoseok) - you're brought down memory lane. yandere | completed (02.05)

with love, k.nj (namjoon) - your valentine's date with namjoon was a success - too bad you don't know who he truly is. yandere | completed (02.07)

bad decisions (jimin) - you're getting married on valentine's day - but somehow, you allow a stripper to fuck you in front of your bride's maids and maid of honor. completed (02.09)

v-day special (taehyung) - you ask your ex - who you're still close with - if he's willing to come on your cam-show for a valentine's day special. completed (02.12)

nefarious (jungkook) -a look back into your and jungkook's fatal attraction - before the marriage, kids and the detachment. yandere | completed (02.14)

little doe (hoseok) - an alternate world in which predator shifters are the top of the shifter hierarchy. it's valentine's day and you, a prey shifter, decide to help a predator through their heat. completed (02.15)

[hyoninnuri]

i need a fanfic where superman and batman know each other and have worked together for a bit but they aren't exactly friends or know each other outside of batman and superman. they might've met as bruce and clark briefly at some event or another and know each other enough to know their secret identities, but bruce has always just kept his distance.

clark on the other hand, started to realize he was actively listening for bruce's heartbeat, it happens on a team up, maybe, he doesn't realize he's slowly just attuning to this guy. all the while, bruce is come to learn that he can trust superman, but he sticks to gotham and superman sticks to metropolis and unless there's an insane event, never the two need cross.

brain rot under the cut:

batman wants to crack down on a drug ring that's supplying gotham streets with something nefarious, but the suppliers/movers are onto him and know exactly how to run the supply under batman's nose. so batman decides that the only way he can get any info on this drug, is to get some as bruce wayne.

which means going to one of the places that he knows people are getting it, but also, bringing bruce's persona of playboy rich guy to sweeten the pot, and really, who wouldn't turn away someone who could afford to be hooked on a neat new drug?

he doesn't ask for it, ofc not, because that would give away his whole plan, so he asks for the girls, the bottle service, the night out for a guy who wants to spend money and relax and maybe fuck.

the club is dark, the music is loud, he's taken to a private room above it all where a couple of beautiful women help him relax and party. boundaries are set in a flirty manner as things usually do, how much is too much, what do you want us to do, etc. he says he's open to anything but his safe word is 'superman' and even that is spoken in a flirtatious way, as if implying he'd never need a safe word. as if it's a joke. (also because what better way to get out of any sexy situation than instantly killing your boner saying superman?)

the girls giggle and the night goes on. ofc bruce is only half interested in the woman in his lap; he's keeping his ears peeled for the voices outside the door, the ones that are all business. she's undoing his collar, he's allowing it, until the other woman comes over and places something on the tongue of the woman he's holding.

he realizes he doesn't recognize the drug.

she kisses him, transferring the drug through the kiss. (this is the part that i am really fixated on, honestly, and what sprung my need ahaha)

he asks, because ofc he asks, what it is, and the women are coy at first, telling him it's a service and that if he wants more later, he can ask for it. instinctively he knows this is the drug he's been looking to expose as batman. he just needs more info.

another few kisses, things start getting a little headier, but he plays it off and pretends to be enjoying himself, asking about the drug again. the girl not in his lap tells him thinking his interest is because he'll want more and pay more. his body is starting to feel the effects and distantly he's aware it's only been 10 minutes. The girl is definitely feeling it, but the altered state is causing batman to not be enjoying himself at all.

he's sluggish in a way that feels like reality is peeling off of him, and that sends dangerous alarms ringing in his head. the woman in his lap is trying to undo more buttons on his shirt, to move her hands lower on his body, but he can't allow it. there are scars there that a playboy rich guy can't explain away, but a masked vigilante could.

he stops her from continuing and she takes the dismissal for what it is, with a flirty pout she slides off his lap, and the movement intensifies the 'reality peeling away' feeling.

she lays herself across the couch luxuriating in the feeling batman's mind is trying to run away from. the other woman is asking if he's okay. distantly he thinks he might be emoting, but he's bruce wayne now, he's allowed.

there are hands on him, he's not sure why there are hands on him, they can't put reality back.

he stands, he fumbles, the floor is not the floor, the walls are not walls, and the woman is looking at him with pity because she knows the drug has taken effect and all will be good soon, just relax and go with it. he mumble/stutters 'superman', the safe word. the safe word. the safe word.

he makes it out of the room and back into the club with undulating masses and loud beats, someone might be calling for him, someone might be pushing into him, the floor might be opening up under his feet for him to fall through. it doesn't matter, reality is gone.

fresh air hits him in the face like a punch and he collapses outside in the establishment's alleyway, outside of prying eyes and spectators, but before his body even hits the ground, he's caught.

by superman.

it's the last piece of reality that escapes him.

lol

then i need him to wake up in his own room back at the manor, completely like how the hell did i get here? make his way downstairs to see alfred in the kitchen, surprised to see him up, and clark. sitting at the breakfast counter with a cup of tea. having a pleasant chat with alfred.

clark.

not superman, just plain old clark.

because unknown to batman, superman brought him back to the manor, helped alfred bring him to bed, monitored his state for a bit whilst alfred did his thing, and then when alfred thanked him and said he could leave, superman asked to stay.

and alfred let him lolol (master bruce needs friends after all)

i need it to be slow burn like from here on out clark does try to get closer because yeah batman needs friends but also because seeing that bit of vulnerability really drove home the point that bruce is remarkable. bruce wants to know why superman came to his rescue and clark simply says because he called him.

he spoke and clark heard, and yeah; maybe knowing that makes bruce's heart flutter weirdly in his chest. metaphoric fluttering, ofc, he's fairly certain he's got his physiology back from its drug induced un-reality.

he really needs to stop that drug from being spread around.

lol pls help me find something like this.

[imaginedreamwrite]

love on the brain but with 141 please!!!

Maybe it’s Gaz or Ghost who first finds their omega being threatened into a matchup with dangerous and mean alpha’s (perhaps even Graves as a villain) and they come up with a solution as their own pack

There’s a sense of dread that settles over you when you when you receive the letter. The series of alpha’s listed in this organized pack that you were assigned to were all nefarious in one way or another. You knew it, you could sense it within your bones, that these alpha’s you were going to be given to were horrendous.

You had doubts even before you showed him, the charming and good natured alpha who was your neighbour and friend. Kyle Garrick had heard you speaking anxiously about the upcoming matchmaking date you were given.

The population of omega’s was vastly outnumbered by the population of alpha’s. The government arranged matchmaking services to bind packs of alpha’s to a single omega to prevent fighting between alpha’s. Your matchmaking date was almost three days ago, and the letter had finally arrived.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do.” You were hunkered down on his couch, in his apartment across the hall from your own. “What am I going to do? None of these alpha’s are…”

They were terrible.

“I know this fucker.” Gaz tapped his finger against the paper, his eyes narrowed in particular when one familiar name popped up. “This asshole tried to kill us all in Mexico.”

“What?” You raised your head, your eyes following Gaz as he stopped pacing. “Kyle what-”

“This can be avoided if you register with the government that you have a pack of your own. The tests they put you through determined you needed 4 alpha’s right?” Kyle moves toward you, his beautiful brown eyes sweeping over you, a plan forming in his mind. “I have a solution, sweetheart.”

“I don’t have an alternative pack, I don’t have four alpha’s-” Kyle moved toward you, crouching down before you as his hand extended to cup your cheek.

“I do. I’ll handle it okay?” Kyle offered you a smile, a solution for a problem that you were anxious about. “Just relax, okay? Everything will be fine.”

His comfort brought you rest, and you drew yourself further into the couch. Gaz handed you a blanket to curl up with while he made calls. Your calmed state led you to sleep, sleep led you to a state of feeling rested until the intrusion.

“Oi, bonnie.” A gentle hand shook your shoulder, an accent belonging to a voice you’d never heard before stirred you. “Got’tae get up, now.”

Your eyes were heavy and you blinked twice, trying to focus your attention on who was above you. Your eyes registered a set of blue irises that belonged to a man with a mohawk hairstyle, and a five o’clock shadow. His lips were pillowy, pressed together in a firm line before a grin broke out.

“There she is, mornin’ darlin’.” He stood back up, and your eyes trailed along the room, to the other two unfamiliar alpha’s in the room.

“I said don’t wake her up,” Kyle appeared in the living room, carrying tea and some oatmeal in a bowl for you, “fucking prat-”

“Dinnae get yer knickers in a twist, Gaz-” the Scotsman gruffly rebuffed Kyle’s statement with a brief snarl and a roll of his eyes.

“Enough, both of you.” Another alpha stepped up, this one with blue eyes and a style of beard you hadn’t seen outside of period piece television. He was clearly the oldest and most experienced of the alpha’s, the one who was in charge. “Y/N, yes? In order for this to work, you’ll need proof you have an alternative pack and are already mated.”

“This is your solution?” You look at Kyle, your heart lurching in your chest while he remains calm.

“I trust them with my life, so should you. They’re good alpha’s love.” Gaz sets the tea and oatmeal down on the table, and then rests his hand upon yours. “You trust me?”

“You know I do.” You look into his eyes, searching his as you lean in closer to him.

“Trust them.” Kyle leans over, he presses his nose to your hair to inhale your omega scent. “This will work.”

“You need to go into heat, you need at least three marks to convince the government.” The leader of their pack continues, slipping his hands into his pockets and pulling them out again. In his hands are two glass vials, medication to induce heat cycles—mostly used for omega’s who experience irregular heats.

“Once this start, there’s no going back.” It was a warning but also a solution.

You looked at Kyle for reassurance and then back at the lead alpha. There was no other choice. You outstretched your hand, waiting for the vial to be placed in your palm.

This was the only solution.

[acowardinmordor]

Steve has powers, specifically of a Doesn’t Stay Dead variety. He knows theirs a limit on how many times he can come back. Let’s go with eight. Aka he has nine lives. He knows there’s a cap, and he has some kind of mark on his body that counts down. He lost one as a kid, doing something like riding his bike too fast, and crashing over a hill. Nothing nefarious, just a bad accident.

He drinks himself unconscious freshman year, and wakes up in vomit, missing a marker.

He survives the demogorgon.

Billy kills him though. So does the Russian beating.

The kids realize after Starcourt that Steve really was killed by the Russians, but don’t realize there’s a cap. It makes them feel safer if they think that Steve will always be there for him.

He doesn’t tell them that he died twice. The only reason he knows about the second is because he woke up the next day missing one of the marks. He never went to the hospital, so doesn’t know why or how, just that he’s used six of his eight chances.

Definitely drowns getting dragged through watergate, and barely revived before the others reached him. Only one left.

Eddie survives, barely. Steve learned his lesson from Starcourt and goes to the hospital, takes the antibiotics. Takes it easy, tells himself that it’s all over. So it’s fine. And he still has one spare.

Gets close with Eddie as they recover and wait on the Feds. And Eddie loves stories, knows fairytales and immediately declares that this infinite life glitch is fake. There’s no way it’s Infinite. He assumes that Steve doesn’t know that, and isn’t going to tell him. They get close enough that Eddie sees the marks on the back of Steve’s neck, sees seven faded, sees one left. He freaks out for a while. Tries to talk to Robin about it, but even she doesn’t know, and he doesn’t know how to tell her this secret that doesn’t belong to him.

Steddie is not quite together, but everyone knows it’s an any day now thing. That’s when Vecna comes back.

Steve goes down protecting the kids. But he gets up a moment later. It’s the first time they ever saw it happen, and it cements Steve as the coolest dude ever. He’s invincible.

Something something, they have a plan that needs someone to take on a very dangerous bait role. Obviously, to the kids, Steve is the only possible choice. And since it doesn’t matter, Steve wouldn’t let anyone else do it anyway, there’s no reason to tell them. Either he’ll survive or he won’t.

Eddie though? Not having it. Informs the group that he’s going with Steve. No one likes this plan. Eddie has vivid, vicious scars from last time. Steve can come back to life. It’s just stupid for Eddie to risk himself.

They’re both self sacrificing idiots, and when shit goes down, they’re both determined that THEY will be the one to die and save the other.

Luckily, they cancel each other out. Neither dies during the fight, and the others find them fast enough to get them to the hospital. It’s not until Eddie wakes up from the surgical anasthesia, and frantically asks about Steve that the secret comes out. He’s drugged out of his mind, and rambles his fears and the marks and how he knows that Steve won’t survive another one.

Unluckily, the kids and Robin were clustered around Eddie’s bed - around the bed of the guy they thought was at risk of dying and staying dead, because they knew Steve would be okay no matter what - and they hear all of it.

So it’s a horrible thing as they look at the other bed in the room, at Steve, still not awake, still critical, and have to grapple with that fear, even as they try to count, and learn all the times and ways that Steve has died before. Praying that it won’t happen again

[multificimagines]

Fandom: Love and Deepspace

Pairing: Rafayel x reader

Description: The thud of his heart beneath your hand would betray him—but it doesn’t have to. He looks at you with such devotion, such devastatingly lovestruck eyes, as he places his hand over yours

Notes: this has been sitting in my drafts for SO long now so I’ve decided to finally free it from draft hell

Warnings: vague spoilers for mc and Rafayel’s backstories/myths; a tiny bit suggestive if you tilt your head and squint a little

You sit in Rafayel’s lap on the couch in his studio, legs straddling him and you don’t really remember what led to this, too distracted staring at the vision of him, illuminated by the light from the window and a light pink tint on his cheeks as he takes in the sight of you in much the same way.

You hesitate a moment, your hands so close to his face you swear you can feel the barest brush of your fingers against his cheek. Rafayel doesn’t let you hesitate for long—he leans into your touch, and you can’t help the teasing smirk spreading across your lips. He’s so desperate for your attention. He had been earlier, when he kissed you like a man starved, and he was now, as he adamantly keeps you from staying apart from him for too long.

You love it.

You have no idea what has made him so pliant today, but oh, you’re going to have your fun with this. It’s not every day you have him so completely and willingly at your mercy.

You lean closer, and Rafayel is the one to close the distance and capture your lips again in a kiss. When you break from the kiss, you gently tip his head to the side instead and kiss his cheek, where once upon a time you saw ocean-colored scales glimmer in the moonlight. You trail your kisses down his cheek, his jaw, his neck. Your hand moves further still, until it reaches his chest and you gently push him down onto his back on the couch.

You hear Rafayel’s breath hitch, and where your hand still presses on his chest, you swear you feel the tell-tale racing of his heartbeat, the pulsing becoming faster as the flush on his face becomes more prominent and gods, you love him. It’s all you can think as the setting sun’s light filters in the window, painting him in colors that make him look like one of his own masterpieces. You trace the outline of a heart over his chest, an absent-minded action as you soak in the image, memorizing every detail of him in this moment.

Rafayel laughs, the sound soft and amused and somewhat disbelieving. “You want my heart, is that it? You have some evil plan to seduce me, and take advantage of my weakened state to carve it out and use it for your own nefarious purposes?”

The idea is ridiculous, of course, but you’ve always enjoyed humoring Rafayel’s dramatics. “What if I do?” You hum, tracing the shape again. And again. And again. “It sounds tempting. The heart of a sea god, in the palm of my hands…”

The thud of his heart beneath your hand would betray him—but it doesn’t have to. He looks at you with such devotion, such devastatingly lovestruck eyes, as he places his hand over yours, flattening your palm over the steady rhythm. “It already is,” he says, softly. “It always has been.”

You give in. You kiss him, tired of drawing out this game, and you suddenly feel just as ravenous for his attention as he had been for yours moments earlier.

When you briefly part from him to catch your breath, you swear you see lifetimes’ worth of love shining in his eyes, and you feel it in the depths of your soul—this is where you belong. Here, in his embrace, in this life and every other that has been and any that ever will be.

Maybe it’s not that you cradle his heart in your hands—maybe it’s that his and yours are one and the same. It’s easy to believe it in this moment, still drunk on your overwhelming affection for the man before you and the feeling of his lips on yours and the sound of your heart, beating in time with his.

You laugh, still breathless from the kiss, as the realization settles in you. “Don’t worry,” you say, and you take his hand, placing it over your own racing heart, just as he did to you moments ago. “I’ll keep it safe for you.”

[jadeyarts]

Separate from that other anon I for one would personally love to hear your Peri and Harbinger/Foxglove headcanons

OMG YAYYYYY. I HAVE QUITE A FEW ♥ (for my own convenience i'm referring to them by their og series names for reasons)

the events of timmy's secret wish are what first planted the seeds of genuine, fully positive feelings and fondness for poof in foop's mind and heart... maybe even a puppy love crush. he seriously thought "well, dying in poof's arms wouldn't be so bad" and hoped that wouldn't awaken something in him. it did.

in a lot of episodes they often have differently colored eyes - foop has a darker shade of purple. i think poof's noticed, and i think he even likes the look of those darker eyes.

given how foop would cry out for poof to protect or save him, i think that poof grows to be incredibly protective of foop… poof will square up for his square!!!

hes the one telling cashiers that foop asked for no pickles, imho ♥

at some point poof stopped intervening in foop's nefarious schemes so i've kind of interpreted poof as just... not caring anymore. he can't stay mad at foop for long, and he finds himself not even bothered by whatever damages he ends up causing anyways. i think he might even find his antics amusing.

after the events of certifiable super sitter, foop actually feels comfortable with admitting that poof is his best friend-

it'd take a few more years to admit it to poof's face, though, it's too embarrassing for him! he'll gush to chloe constantly, though - she knows he's in love with poof before either of them does.

foop's first boyfriend was actually their mutual friend sammy sweetsparkle in high school, while poof had kind of an on-and-off puppy love situationship with goldie... until he kind of flipped out on her about constantly getting foop's name wrong in the middle of a jealousy induced break-down. foop was actually thrilled to hear that poof let his dark side show over wanting to be with him.

sammy and foop ironically broke up on good terms because sammy's best attempt at understanding the fairy/antifairy situation is that they must be soulmates and he didn't want to stand in the way of true love. he's their second biggest supporter.

technically poof confessed first but his confession was literally just screaming IF I DONT SPEND THE REST OF MY LIFE WITH YOU I AM LITERALLY GOING TO BLOW SOMETHING UP!!!! at foop, which was a love confession that would only appeal to foop.

chloe TRIED to plan the "perfect" first date for them but it was horribly awkward and not to their tastes. so instead their first REAL date was poof taking foop to a kelly clarkson concert where they got matching "my life would suck without you" t-shirts.

poof actually buys - WITH HUMAN MONEY, IN A HUMAN DISGUISE - every kelly clarkson album as it releases for foop.

they nearly elope several times but got caught by wanda every time. wanda doesn't really like the fact that poof is with foop but doesn't wanna turn into mama cosma about it so she comes to terms with it. she doesnt want them to just run away and get married when she doesn't think they're ready yet either, though. timmy has to be the one to appeal to foop's desire for attention to convince them to have a big wedding after they graduate. poof doesnt care whether he has a big wedding or just elopes - as long as foop is his. if foop wants a big wedding, that's what they'll have.

whenever people ask how long they've been together they tend to go silent because their first instinct is to say "about 50 years" even though they're only about 22-24, and they've only officially been a couple for about 6 or 7 years. foop's second instinct is also to say "from the very first moment i drew breath" like the dramatic weirdo he is. which isn't even accurate and they both know it.

literally so specific to my own little homebrewed post-canon that you can't even pretend it works with anw:

in my elaborate fanon after AC and AW abandoned foop in season 10, poof begs wanda to find someone who would be willing to take foop in. luckily, wanda knew just the fairies for the job.

after getting adopted foop changes his name to foxglove thimbleplight - poof changed his last name to thimbleplight when they got married so he becomes periwinkle thimbleplight. :3

they still call each other poof and foop - usually in the form of embarrassingly cheesy affectionate nicknames. we're talking "smoopy-poo" level cheesy usage here.

(actually that one still works with anw but the art i drew is clearly my own designs and not the anw designs and it's exceedingly cheesy so)

poof convinced foop to go to the fairy academy with him - initially foop was hesitant because he… wants to… but… antifairies cant become godparents, right??? poof was willing to do literally anything it would take to keep foop by his side though. he initially considers manipulating some poor unsuspecting godparent to quit on their godkid just so he can hijack the ensuing fairy idol for foop to win and take their job… it's devious, and he knows foop would have loved that he did something so malicious just for him, but in the end he just gets into a fight with jorgen and the fairy council about it. he argues that technically foop is legally a fairy now since he was adopted by fairies, so he should be allowed to become a godparent. they end up agreeing.

their relationship was kind of a controversial issue in fairyworld for a few years because of poof's high profile status - while they're not the first fairy and anti-fairy couple, they're the first recorded instance of a fairy coupled with their own counterpart in eons. the media did get bored of them eventually though.

they already wanted to get married after high school but they agreed to postpone the wedding until after they graduated from the fairy academy so they had enough free time to make it as over the top as foop wanted it to be. poof actually proposed to foop AGAIN with a diamond ring after they graduated from the fairy academy, even though they were technically already engaged - with the intent of being as over-the-top dramatic and annoying to the rest of their classmates as possible.

^ which is similar to what cosmo and wanda did as teens though details differ. cosmo is literally the only one who seems to realize this and audibly goes "WOW, DEJA VU..." when this all happens.

while wanda had to get used to poof and foop together, cosmo accepted it pretty much immediately. mostly because sometimes they reminded him of himself and wanda. (<- actually canon)

[clownyclaushoe]

art the clown x reader 🔞 | i taste blood and it's turned into an obsession series

part two | bruises on both my knees for you

part one | part three | part four

reader sucks art's cock 😫 | i planned on also including reader getting railed by art, but this was getting really long so i think there'll now be a part three for that 🙈😓 chapter title is from bad guy by billie eyelash (sorry i couldn't help myself 😄 i'm a fan of miss eilish 😌) cause yet again i could only think to use the most obvious lyrics since we're dealing with a blowjob 😂😂

---

you were still dazed from the two orgasms art had given you as you stood, determined to reciprocate to the mysterious clown that turned your life upside down. you had wanted to suck his cock for way too long, the ache present in the back of your mind every moment spent with and without him. it had only worsened since you had seen naked a few weeks ago when you both returned from the day's antics. he'd immediately stripped down in order to clean his costume, revealing he was wearing nothing underneath.

art didn't feel things such as modesty - and to fair, he didn't have a reason to considering the length of his dick. the sight instantly made you wet, your pussy throbbing and clenching around nothing, wishing it was wrapped around his girth. you had to tear your gaze away, wondering how art would've reacted had he noticed your staring, though he seemed not to.

the visual aid only added to your fantasies. you'd spent countless nights at your apartment using your bullet vibrator while imagining art fucking you. there were moments while you were in the throes of pleasure, it seemed art could see you, as if powered by the supernatural forces surrounding him - a telepathic bond created between you two where art, wherever he was, whatever he was doing, could see you, could hear you calling his name; and you felt his intense leering eyes, could clearly envision the way his mouth set with a smirk as he took in the sight of you making yourself fall apart every time.

the thought of him watching you intensified each sensation, sending sparks of ecstasy throughout your body, moaning and whining for him, begging him to finally take you however he wanted, willing to give yourself to him for his (and your own) pleasure.

would he have stopped whatever nefarious actions he was in the middle of to jerk off? what little you did know about art, you knew at some time in his existence, he was a just mere man - mortal and fallible as everyone else. maybe that human yet primal part of him remained, that was interested in a good fuck, in coming so hard until his balls were emptied, drained dry of every drop of cum.

you wanted so badly for him to use your mouth and pussy as his own personal fucktoys, needy little cumdumps waiting impatiently for him to spill his hot loads of cum. and with his enthusiasm at your suggestion of returning the flavor earlier, as well as his large, hard cock bulging against his pants, it seemed he felt the same.

you walked around him, unzipping his costume and watching him tug it down, revealing again the expense of skin you dreamed of touching, basking in the sight of his large but lanky body. he kicked off his large clown shoes and tossed aside the costume. your fingers gazed over his back, his skin unusually warm, making you wonder if that was a result of being an underling for the evil that resurrected him, the man coming back as a demon heated by the very flames of hell.

you stepped to face him, touch moving along his smooth chest. you could swear you felt him shiver under your touch; you were curious how long it had been since someone had touched him like this, with gentleness, consideration, and possibly even love.

it seemed unbelievable you could get such a reaction from this beast that brought terror and fear to nearly everyone that crossed his path.

your hand trailed down to wrap tightly around his cock, stroking him, intently watching the shifts in his expression, his eyes slowly blinking closed, the twitch of his mouth, his tongue darting out to lick his lips.

"you need my mouth wrapped around your thick clown cock, hmm?" you drop to your knees, suckling at the flushed, swollen head, flickering your eyes up to watch his head fall back, mouth opening with a silent moan.

"though i like it sweet sometimes" you twist your hand over the ridge of the head, tonguing precum from the slit. "i expected you to be rougher with me, art." you sink down halfway, loving the weight of him in your mouth, heavy on your tongue. you drag your teeth over his shaft as you pull back, something you'd been careful not to do with past boyfriends and hook-ups, but you knew art would like it. and he seemed to as indicated by the dominating way he put his hands on your head, keeping you still.

you grabbed under his balls, taking his shaft all the way this time, nose pressing against his pelvis as his hold on your head tightened. his hips moved, thrusting his thick cock forward and back in your mouth. you blinked back tears, trying to relax your throat, mouth widening as you fought against your gag reflex, chorus of "guh-guh-guh" sounds filling the otherwise quiet room. you were determined to make him come harder than he ever has.

he continued like that for what felt like minutes until his grip mercilessly loosened, allowing you to pull off with a gasp to catch your breath. you palmed over the slit, stroking him quickly, motion slick from your saliva and his precum. you stared up at him, noticing his hat was lopsided on his head. you giggled to yourself, kissing the slit, and down the underside.

"fuck, your big clown cock is so hot, artie."

art chuckled silently, his body jostling, clearly smug with the effect he had on you, as if the two times he'd made you squirt weren't enough justification for him to be self-satisfied with his abilities and attributes.

you take his swollen balls into your mouth, sucking hard, continuing to stroke him fast, that slick slapping of skin-on-skin you'd always adored filling your ears. your free hand moved to his trembling belly, signaling he was close. you went back to bobbing around on his dick until he spilt in your mouth, pulsing fat hot streaks of cum down your throat, shaft jerking repeatedly as you milked it of every drop, until his dick began to soften. all the while you watched as his mouth opened into a wide teeth bearing grin, almost appearing like he was taunting you. the next time you touched yourself you knew thinking of that expression would push you over the edge.

you sighed as you pulled off, pleased with yourself, especially seeing the way his cock was already hardening again. it seemed it was going to be a long night. you stood, turning to lean on art's work bench, pushing your ass out and swaying it teasingly from side to side impatiently.

"i need your clown cock in my pussy, NOW."

---

another cliffhanger, sorry! 🙈

hope all enjoyed! 🖤❤🖤❤

[thelittlestoflives]

Burning for You

this quite literally came to me in a dream soooo i had to write it!! just a lil silly drabble about the sweetest fire boy (not proofread IM SORRY)

afab reader, uses of YN

portgas d ace x strawhat!reader

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

it's pretty steamy so i'm gonna say NSFW MDNI but it's not tooo explicit

wc: 1.5k

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The building exploded, bricks and debris flying through the air and smashing through anything in its path. You barely had time to gape in disbelief before you saw your crew scattering in different directions. Of course, this is how the ‘stealth’ plan went. 

Luffy’s brother, Ace, was staying with the crew for a while and the two of you had most definitely been making eyes at each other when you thought the other wasn’t looking. You were staying on an island when the crew had discovered some nefarious goings-on, and would you really be the Strawhats if you all didn’t try and right these wrongs? The plan was to sneak into the suspected building, scope it out, and then figure out the intricacies once you all knew its layout. The plan was not to blow the damn building up.

“Quick!” Ace sprinted past you, grabbing your hand and pulling you behind him. 

“Was that you?” You yelled at him, referring to the building’s demise.

He flashed a grin over his shoulder at you, confirming the answer as you both ran through the unfamiliar streets. 

Eventually, you stopped in an alleyway, breathing heavily.

You threw a glare at him. “I don’t recall ‘blowing up the building’ as the course of action, Ace.”

He simply threw a smile your way. “But didn’t that make it much more fun?”

“Oh, okay. So your idea of fun is, I don’t know, terrorism?” 

“Pfft. They deserved it. The bastards inside were up to no good. It’s not exactly my fault they had highly flammable objects in there.”

You groaned and pinched the bridge of your nose. “I can’t believe we sent Fire Fist himself into a flammable building. I guess we have nobody to blame but ourselves for that one.” You looked up to see his incredibly (cute) smug face brightly beaming at you.

“Exactly. So really, it’s all your fault,” he teased. 

“You really are Luffy’s brother,” you remarked, unable to stop your mouth from turning up. 

His smile grew. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Sure.”

You both began to walk out of the alley and back into the city as the fire brigade and island’s police ran past you to the inferno in the centre. You tried to look as nonchalant as possible as Ace walked without a care in the world beside you, arms up behind his head.

“I see you staring at me, you know,” he said. 

You splutter. “Sorry?”

“You don’t need to apologise.”

“No, I wasn’t-”

“I see you staring because I’m staring at you,” you didn’t have to see his face to know exactly what kind of smile he wore. “You’re pretty damn cute.”

You could feel the heat rise to your cheeks. He stepped closer to you and draped an arm over your shoulders.

“And while we wait for the smoke to settle, if you’ll pardon the pun, I think we might as well enjoy the time we have alone together, don’t you?” 

“You’re shameless,” you manage to say, head spinning due to the close proximity. 

He laughed. “Maybe. But you’re too gorgeous to pass up on. What do you say, YN? Shall we make the most of it?”

You grumble at the compliment, and the butterflies in your stomach intensify. “What, uh, what did you have in mind?”

“Grab a drink somewhere? Get to know each other?” 

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

“Great!” His arm moved from your shoulders and you found yourself missing the warm contact, but only temporarily as his hand found yours and your fingers interlocked. “I want to know how you ended up on my brother’s crew.” 

The bar Ace picked wasn’t one you would have chosen - slightly too ‘old man pub’ for your taste - but the drinks were cheap and there was hardly anyone inside, so you couldn’t complain too much. You both sat in a booth in the corner, shielded from any eyes that might look your way. The conversation flowed just as easily as the drinks you both threw back, and soon you were leaning over the table clutching your stomach in fits of laughter.

“You’re something else,” you choked out as you wiped the tears of laughter from your eyes. 

Ace had a wicked grin on his face. “You love it though, don’t you?”

“Presumptious.” 

“But true.”

You lean back in your seat and look at him only to find he was already looking at you. 

At some point in the conversation, Ace had moved closer to you, dangerously close. You could feel the heat radiating off his skin. 

He lifted his hand to hold your cheek, fingertips in your hair. 

“If you don’t want this to go any further, you have to say now, princess,” he murmured. “Because I don’t know how much self-control I’ll have.” 

“I… I don’t know, Ace,” you whisper. “I don’t normally do this sort of thing… I don’t want to just be some notch on your belt.” 

“Oh no, no, no, YN. You’re much more than that. I don’t do this sort of thing either. I’m not some hotshot ladies’ man who sleeps around whenever he can.” He moves his hand to brush over your lips to silence your response. “I know that’s what you think of me, it’s okay. But I need you to know that’s not who I am, yeah? You’re… breaking my resolve, that’s all.”  

Your eyes flutter at the closeness, the intimacy. “But, I’m on your brother’s crew. We couldn’t… I mean, we can’t…”

He raised an eyebrow, a cheeky glint in his eyes. “Says who?”

Oh, fuck it.

His lips were close enough that you barely had to move to crash yours against them. He grunted a little in surprise, but wrapped his arms around you, pulling you impossibly close. Your mouths moved in tandem, the kiss getting deeper and deeper. Your hands move to tangle in his hair, his hat now off his head and hanging by the strap around his neck. His skin was on fire underneath your touch, and he groaned slightly as your tongue entered his mouth. He pulled you onto his lap so that you were straddling him, neither of you caring that you were in some random bar. His hands clutched at your waist and grabbed at any part of you they could. It was desperate, messy, passionate. You could feel the hardness in his shorts under you as you began to gently grind on him, the kiss now sloppy as he panted into your mouth. Thank god the booth you were in was hidden. 

“YN…” He groaned as you pulled away to kiss his jaw and neck, sucking and nipping the skin lightly. “You’re teasing me.” 

“Want me to stop?” you whisper, biting his ear softly. 

He pulled your face away and held it in his hands, his pupils blown and cheeks red. “Not here, not like this,” he said lowly. “Something as beautiful as you needs to be devoured slowly, and not in some gross bar.”

You flushed at the compliment which pleased him greatly.

“Your room, tonight. We’ll finish what we started, yeah? Properly this time,” he pulled your face back to his and kissed you deeply. 

The two of you finished your drinks, in between kisses and touches, before slipping out of the bar and dancing through the streets, hand in hand. 

By the time you and Ace returned to the ship, it was dark out. He pressed some kisses to your face and you giggled, swatting him away as you didn’t want the crew to see.

When you pushed open the door to the kitchen you were immediately crashed into.

“YN!” Luffy’s excited voice called as he wrapped himself around you. “I’m so happy you’re my sister!”

For the second time that day, you splutter. “W-what?”

You didn’t miss the mischievous grins on your crew behind him. 

“Well, you and Ace are together, and he’s my brother, which means you’re my sister! Welcome to the family, sis!”

Ace burst into peals of laughter at the redness of your face. You glared at your crew behind Luffy, as this was obviously their doing. Once you and Ace failed to return to the ship when everyone else did, they put two and two together. 

“Oh, no, Luffy, I’m not… We’re not… It’s not like…”

Ace slung his arm around your shoulder and kissed the side of your head. “Yeah, welcome to the family, YN.”

You grumbled, but couldn’t find it in you to actually be mad. It was rather sweet after all. Whoever told your Captain about you and his brother would suffer your wrath eventually. For now, you indulge in silliness and love and count down the minutes until everyone is in bed and Ace can come to yours.