#no you dumb fuck that's just a skin for league LMAO

[azurityarts]

3 for your GTI and PSMD teams?

3. Team names? What inspired them?

GTI duo is Team Lagoon!

With most of my PMD teams, I try to give them names that match them as a duo! I think combining typings as a name is a fun and cute way to go about it, and I somehow ended up on lagoon as a term? In retrospect the water connotation is there, but I'm not so sure where the dragon part comes in LOL-

PSMD duo is Team Misfits!

Slightly deviating from the typing theme and into the duo's personalities; Reese and Phoebe are both misfits in opposite ways! Softspoken and outgoing problem kids respectively :>

I might have unintentionally been influenced by Marriland's PSMD team actually; I remember watching a bit of it before stopping myself to experience the game blind ahnsdgdhnf

[silvergyus]

Congrats on 500! Well deserved 😊

I have an obsession of txt's noises so::: Most to least likely to be the loudest in bed and what do you think they sound like? 😀

omg I can't believe this took me this long to get to this! if I think about txt's noises too long I have to sit down and drink a glass of ice water with a big fan, cartoon style lmao. I hope that this furthers your obsession🤭

MOST

YEONJUN

when he feels good his brain just slows down and he's just stream of consciousness saying what he feels. the ideal man (imo) because he's just talking the whole time. "yeah, you like that?" and "ohhhh so pretty for me" in the span of two seconds. when he's in a clear headspace he'll def talk you through it, but when he starts feeling really good he's just kinda blabbering. whines when he gets close. isn't one to outright moan so often, but whines and yaps please be loud for him too. likes hearing you moan and whimper and cry out his name. loves hearing how good he makes you feel

BEOMGYU

has two modes: soft quiet baby boy and motormouth menace. when you have soft sex he is the sweetest baby, quiet and gentle. soft sighs falling quietly from his pretty lips. the sounds of your kisses louder than any noise he makes. but when the two of y'all are fucking, that's a whole different story. runs his mouth telling you what to do, how he likes it, how good you feel. when he gets like this you'd better hope no one else is even on the floor because he doesn't care who hears you likes hearing you but also loves making you stay quiet. quickies in the dressing room with his hand over your mouth. fucking you into the mattress when he knows soobin and kai are in the living room playing league

HUENINGKAI

isn't really loud on purpose but makes so many pretty noises that they add up. lots of soft "oh"s and "mmmh"s when you take off your clothes or make him feel good. please please please run your nails across his back when he's fucking you. lets out the prettiest hiss of breath when you do and fucks you faster. always tries to bury his face in your neck or chest when he cums because he can't help the sounds he makes. completely dead silent if he's being a brat or trying to punish you, but if there aren't any dynamics at play he is just a sweet boy who can't help the sound he makes

SOOBIN

doesn't really say much because his head goes dumb when he feels you on his cock, but he has lots of involuntary noises. boobie lover soobin will let out a soft groan when you pull your top off, a sharp intake of breath when you let him touch them, and a loud, embarrassing groan when you let him put his face in them. whines if you tease him but if you're being nice expect heavy breathing and soft moans against your skin. moans loudly when he cums- head falling back, eyes squeezing shut- but gets shy after (what if the other boys heard?)

TAEHYUN

will talk you through it on occasion, but is generally more of a soft sighs and quiet grunts type of guy. the kind of guy to not say much but will whisper a "you're so beautiful" in the middle that makes you melt gets off on your noises though. part of why he's so quiet is that he wants to hear every sound you make. if something he does makes you moan or whimper, he'll keep doing it until you cum again and again. anything and everything to hear you

LEAST

[hoe-imaginess]

vanilla | dabi

very alpha!Dabi x fem omega!Reader 

summary: Dabi isn’t aware that the LoV has an omega up for grabs, not until he accidentally comes across you in heat. 

word count: 11.7k

contains: dub-con elements, scent kink, humiliation, masturbation, hella dirty talk, mentions of blood/burns, Dabi being an all around bastard

a/n: commissioned by K to share part of my ABO fic. Most ABO stuff makes me squeamish so I leave out token tropes (aka knots) another private fic that I didn’t plan on posting so it’s kinda uhhhhh bad lmao. will possibly post more but idk. 

DON'T let the title mislead you ok Dabi is anything but vanilla 

⤰

When he found the safehouse, Dabi knocked at the front entrance.

For a long time there was no response, and he tried again, louder this time and with more exasperation.

“Coming,” he heard a shout finally, muffled across the steel door.

Dabi rubbed his eyes to put some pressure behind them, in hopes it might too take that same pressure away from the sting in his nose.

Some heady omega in the area was in heat, and a bad one; the entire neighborhood reeked of the tantalizing aroma.

He groaned, jaw tensing, and with practiced composure put the fire down in his body. He had enough of it running under his skin every second of the day in the form of his quirk. He didn’t need any more. But it was getting worse the longer he waited there with that smell tiding in the air.

He didn’t even know why he was there, doing such a chore, in the first place.

Maybe it was because this League of Villains business was a promising crusade; he’d heard good things and seen for himself some profit in the affiliation, even despite how profusely he disliked the weird hand-guy, or how awkward the black fog in a suit could be. 

The other recruit, Toga—who he found as equally disagreeable as the rest—had all but blindsided him that evening as he exited the dainty bar which they called headquarters.

Could you do me a favor, Dabi? she’d entreated with an attempt at innocent, girl-like charm: a tactic which, as it usually did, failed. The manic grin on her face had only made him want to be away from her company all the sooner.

No, he’d said, and pushed past her.

But she’d skipped after him, steadfast. 

Tomura had asked her to run an errand in one of the more dangerous parts of the city, she’d said, but she wasn’t sure what to do. She was just a girl, after all. Couldn’t Dabi do her this one favor and take the responsibility off her hands? She was too nervous to take a trip like that, and so late in the night.

Bullshit, he’d said, but instead of protesting in defense of herself, she’d just giggled like a lunatic, dropping her pretense.

Still, when she said it was a delivery which needed to be made to you, the only member of the League he had yet to officially meet, curiosity pinched him.

Indifferent as he was to comradery, he was undeniably interested in unearthing the particulars of this would-be villainous syndicate, which included being at least somewhat familiar with his allies. He knew you had been an original member even before he and the psycho schoolgirl came into the fold; but little else. 

You needed a delivery to be made to one of the League’s safehouses? Well, maybe he could oblige, if only to snoop around. Shigaraki was particularly fastidious with the information he willfully shared, and Dabi would take any opportunity to filch information under the boss’s nose in stride.

After all, if Toga, a new—and undoubtedly incompetent—recruit was being tasked with these deliveries, why not Dabi? Why not Kurogiri, who could make the shipment with ease given his quirk?

What was going on behind the scenes that Dabi wasn’t seeing?

Underwhelming as his first task as a newcomer would be, he saw it as an opportunity. He could be a good and useful asset to the League just for the night, he’d decided, when he told Toga he would do it. He was headed to that side of town anyways, he’d said. 

So there he found himself, his foot tapping impatiently on the ground as he waited outside the safehouse. 

That goddamn scent that wafted around the building... Why did he feel as though he’d smelled it before? And why did it smell so… sickeningly sweet?

He tried to distract himself by musing over what might have solicited these late-night deliveries, for example: what was in this suitcase he was meant to give you. 

Toga had handed it to him with such a twisted, giddy smile on her face that he was half-convinced it was a bomb ready to blow and scatter him into pieces for her sick delight. Once he’d found it locked, he’d given up on guessing the contents after he shook the thing and the rattling inside gave no indication of the secrets it held.

More distraction, he entreated himself. 

He thought of the itch of his staples, the uncomfortable tingle on his ridged skin when the air brought heavy wind against it. He thought of anything that might take away from the smell of raw heat in the area, but it was an instinctual pull that left him fidgeting where he stood.

He was about ready to leave the suitcase at the door and hit the road, when there was a commotion from across the threshold.

The aroma that burst from the opening door completely smothered him, made every bone in his body feel like smoldering steel; made lightning shoot down his veins and a low breath catch in his lungs.

You blanked when you saw him there, your pupils blowing wide with shock, then, if he read it correctly, fear.

He sniffed hard, his body scrambling for a source to the scent that begged his alpha inclinations to go wild. The inhalation sent pinpricks of warmth down to his feet. The smell was overwhelming now, almost dizzying.

And it was coming from you.

“Fuck,” he spat, and covered his nose with his arm, backing away from the door.

You slammed it shut, your heart racing.

“What are you doing here?!” you demanded.

“Came to give you this goddamn shit,” he snapped, throwing the suitcase at the door. It landed with a violent thud. His limbs jerked with frayed nerves, like the sun was heating his skin and crawling down to his center. “Are you an idiot!? You know I’m an—”

“I do that’s why I wanted Toga to bring it—”

“She had me do it,” he shouted, and backed himself against the opposite alley wall, a hand clenching and unclenching against his clothed thigh.

Goddamn your smell. Goddamn it. Like vanilla. Horribly sweet. So fucking potent.

He threw his head back against the wall, ignoring the throbbing pain it kneaded into his skull, and breathed hard.

He wanted to bust down the door. His legs twitched at the impulse; fingers tensed and flames licked their tips.

It would be easy. Kick it down. Burn it down. Burn the whole goddamn place down if need be. He wanted to force his way in, wanted to claw at your clothes and shove himself inside you—

Instead he took another deep breath, and loosed it on a shaky sigh.

He’d handled omega heats before, why was he like this now? Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. This was too much.

“You need to leave,” you muttered from the other side of the door, so resolute and aggrieved that he would have never guessed you were keeled over on the floor, legs shut tight and body shivering. His alpha smell was nauseating you; it was strong and dominating and demanding that you open yourself to him. “Now.”

“Yeah I’m goin',” he snapped angrily, storming off down the alley once his legs restored their loyalty to his head, and not what was between his legs. “Fuck."

⤰

Dabi stroked himself hard and fast and rough, nose pressed into his sleeve, breathing in the sweet tang of vanilla that lingered between the fibers.

He growled out his next breath, and it sputtered off into a wobbly sigh as he closed his eyes and thought of you: those perfect tits he was sure you were hiding under your clothes; your ass, which would look like nice, he knew, with his handprints burned onto the skin; and then your cunt—fuck, he could almost imagine how tight it was, how hotly it would grip him and milk every last fucking drop of his cum—the mere vision of it pink and twitching and spread out for him was like an explosive punch to his gut.

He came in thick, hot spurts, some rolling over his knuckles as he quickly twisted his fist over the cockhead, others staining the brick wall in front of him with ropey, white streaks.

“Fuck,” he panted, chest heaving, limbs trembling. A hand shot to the wall and braced himself there for balance, kept him upright while his quivering knees threatened to fail him.

When was the last time he’d even had to rub one out like this? In a dirty fucking alley? And least of all because of some stupid omega?

Goddamn you, he thought.

⤰

“Dabi!” Toga squealed when he returned to the bar later in the morning. She sniffed the air, breathed in his smokey scent, and flashed a hungry smile, tongue dipping out to wet her eager lips. “You smell so strong. Are you worked up?” Then her eyes were bright and thrilled. “Oh? Oh?! Did you see _____-chan? Did you?"

“Yeah, you crazy idiot.” Dabi slammed the bar door shut behind him. "You just forget to mention that she was in heat?”

Shigaraki, who’d been previously uninterested in the debacle, now looked up from his game. “What?”

Toga giggled. “Oh yeah, I forgot about that. Did you smell her? Oh, it’s so nice, isn’t it?” The girl’s eyes twitched and rolled back loftily in ravenous remembrance. “_____-chan smells so sweet. So sweet—”

“You caught her in heat?” Shigaraki asked, accusative but curious. “Are you stupid?"

Scowling, Dabi jerked a thumb at Toga. “Dipshit over here had me take some stuff over to that safehouse you got. I didn’t fuckin’ know."

“You dumb girl,” Shigaraki snapped, turning on her now. “Are you brain dead? Or do you really not get why omegas hide from alphas during heats? Why do you think we have a beta like you go do deliveries now?”

“I know what happens!” she contended. “I thought she could use some company. She smells so delicious. Was it fun, Dabi? Was it fun and romantic and—”

“Try infuriating,” Dabi spat, then set his anger on Shigaraki. “You’re no better. Either of you.” He nodded his head at Kurogiri behind the bar. “Would’ve been nice to know you had an unmated omega in your group.”

“Thought you’d noticed by now,” Shigaraki replied, now somewhat subdued, and tending to his game again. “What, your nose doesn’t work?”

“It works fuckin’ fine. Just didn’t realize that scent you got around here all the time was hers.”

In recollection, he put his sleeve over his nose. The sweet smell had vanished, but the memory of it still haunted his senses, made every nerve in his body flutter with excitement. It was driving him fucking insane.

“How the hell do you two work with an omega?” Dabi asked. “That gets heats like that, no less.”

“We’re not animals,” the leader replied. “Some of us can handle it.”

“My ass. Guessin’ that’s the reason she’s never around, huh? You don’t seem very disciplined. Bet you catch one whiff of that slick and go completely ape shit.”

Shigaraki scowled, affronted.

“It was our mistake not warning you,” Kurogiri conciliated the blame, clearly nervous, and possibly displeased by the crass talk. “We were under the impression that you knew. We’ve taken steps to lessen the risk in our years together. We are somewhat… desensitized.”

“Good for you,” Dabi muttered. “I ain’t. A heads up would’ve been nice.”

“Now you know,” Shigaraki said, scratching peevishly at his neck. “Stop complaining. You’ll get used to it.”

Dabi tsked. “Yeah, you better hope I do.” Then he stalked off.

“Did you do that on purpose?” Shigaraki asked Toga once the other alpha had departed.

Toga keened happily, still enamored with Dabi’s untamed scent. Alphas were so delicious when worked up.

“I forgot,” she insisted dreamily. “Honest, I did.”

“That was a very risky mistake,” Kurogiri was saying, black vapors flitting nervously about his frame. “As a beta, you may not be aware of the risks that both alphas and omegas face when it comes to positions of power–”

Toga pouted and whined, like a child whose gleeful imagination had been thwarted. “I don’t get it. I was just doing them both a favor. Alphas are supposed to take of omegas in heat, aren’t they? What’s the big deal?” She had a stupid smile on her face again, rapt with thoughts of desire. “It must be so nice as an alpha, getting to take any little omega you want… they’re so needy.”

“The big deal, you damn idiot,” Shigaraki started, “is that a guy like that is too selfish to put our objectives before his prick. There’s a reason we don’t mess with that heat and rutting crap here. Complicates things. Makes everyone go crazy. Like you.”

She tittered like a lunatic, proud of her indignity. “She smells so good, Tomura. It’s not fair. Not fair at all.”

⤰

After your heat, once you’d returned to the bar, you ignored Dabi to the best of your ability.

At first, he seemed content enough to reciprocate the caution. You both treaded carefully: any eye-contact made would be swiftly curtailed with averted gazes; you cleared a room whenever he entered, and vice versa, he acted as though you were invisible to him.

It would be fine, you’d told yourself. You’d dealt with the ugly dynamics your omega lifestyle wrought countless times. You could do it again. Dabi was a new recruit, after all. Promising—albeit coarse—according to Tomura. His contribution to the team far outweighed the plights of your personal struggles. You would be fine. It would be fine.

But those lofty self-reassurances were short-lived.

You were sitting in one of the bar’s empty rooms when he sought you out. You smelled him before he rounded the corner, and fear gripped you when the alpha bouquet invaded your senses. But then something else came to seek your submission: an instinctual calling on the wisps of his scent, bringing an anxious and conflicting nostalgia back to you.

God his smell had followed you for days: a smokey aroma, but something so fresh underneath it, like cold mint. You’d never been so enthralled by a scent before, never been so tempted to give in to carnal desire and offer yourself to a being nature had designated as your superior: an alpha.

He stood in the doorway of the room, just looking at you; you stared back, frozen, and made yourself small in hopes that you might avoid whatever confrontation was to come.

“Your heats always that stupidly strong?” he asked.

You blanched and took a deep breath to quell your unease. You wished to anything that the world would swallow you and take you away from what was undoubtedly going to be one of the worst, most uncomfortable confrontations of your life.

“Yes,” you said. “That’s why I have to go away.”

“Why? I mean, most omegas do it. Usually to work it out themselves, right? Bet that little delivery I made was a bunch of toys, wasn’t it?” 

“No,” you said, feeling embarrassed by the mere speculation. “It was a suppressant. They don’t usually work on me... I’m trying to find the right one.”

The broad smirk that shifted his scarring tissue made you shift uncomfortably. “Suppressants are useless if your heat is too strong. That shit was bad. The smell is ridiculous. You clearly ain't doing somethin' right if it’s always that potent.”

You shivered at the mention of your scent. It was always what they mentioned—the alphas. They always raved about your scent: like sweet candy, some said. Most often, vanilla. The sniff of it on your very nose was nauseating after so long: an inescapable quality that put you in the crosshairs of nearly every alpha you’d met, made you frightfully easy prey to their predator.

“I’ve...” Shit, should you be sharing this with him? Normally you did, with most alphas you were acquainted with. Especially those you trusted. But you didn’t trust him. You barely knew him. “I’ve never... been rutted properly. So, they’re stronger. The heats.”

“Never been rutted through a heat?” he asked, scoffing. “Sounds miserable. You’re all backed up, aren’t ya? That’s why you struggle with your scent so much.”

You were quiet. You met his interrogation more confidently than you previously thought possible, given how successfully he’d intimidated you up until now. But your fear was draining away slowly, giving way to some sense of adeptness.

Memories of his scent had haunted your every bodily cell since the moment you’d first experienced it. Although facing it again now was overwhelming, you’d steeled yourself since then.

It would be okay, you reminded yourself. Conferring with allied alphas was only a necessary tack if you were going to keep the peace.

“I have, obviously,” you answered. “I’ve been rutted through a heat. But, it’s not the same if it’s not with… well—”

“An alpha?” he finished, and couldn’t help the surprise on his face. “You’ve never been with an alpha in your heat?”

You shook your head. And then there it was, the returning frailty so thick that it seized the room. Why were you so humiliated to speak your truths? They were truths, after all, under his harsh gaze or not.

“…I’ve never been with an alpha at all.”

He actually laughed. “Nah. You’re lying.”

“I’m not.”

“Never even fooled around a bit?”

“No."

A wry, callous grin stretched his staples. He tilted his head and hummed curiously. “You afraid? Of alphas?”

“No.”

“Yeah, you are.”

“I’m not.”

“Omegas are normally dyin’ to get laid when they’re in heat. Especially when they’re surrounded by alphas they actually know, like you are. Would be one thing if you were locking yourself up to hide from strangers, but you’re not. Gross as that hand-guy is, he seems like he’d rut for ya."

“I just don’t... want it.”

“Nah. You’re scared. I can tell. Should’ve seen that look on your face the other day, damn near terrified—like I was gonna jump on you any second.”

You bristled with agitation, frustration invited back in full bloom now that your confidence was weakened. “Sorry if I don’t trust you,” you returned with grim sarcasm. “You’re not very… decent, to put it plainly.”

“Decent? Nah, I’m not. Alphas aren’t supposed to be. But that’s why you’re all nervous, right?”

“I don’t…” You shook your head, thoughts tripping over one another. “My quirk makes it difficult,” you admitted, and bit your tongue shortly afterwards.

”Your quirk?”

You swore it was his pheromones making you talk, clouding your judgment and wringing admissions from you. “Alphas and omegas dealing with ruts or heats… it compromises their quirks sometimes, I’m sure you know. Makes them uncontrollable and disorderly. I don’t want that to happen to me. Heats are bad enough on their own. Actually getting rutted through one…” You shrugged, vulnerable to be sharing your fears. “I don’t know. I heard it can go wrong. It would be too much.”

“Oh.” He snickered. “Afraid you’re gonna get too horny and flip out or something?”

Heat primed your cheeks in a blush. “No. I mean… In a way. But, thats not what I really meant–”

“So you just run away whenever you’re in heat? ‘Cause you don’t know how to handle it? That’s sad. Bet you wouldn’t be such a stuck up mess if you just let someone rut you through it, at least once. That’s what you’re supposed to do. Forget suppressants. Not just that,” he snickered, and smirked slyly, “it’s awfully unfair of you to be such a prude when you’ve got a bunch of alphas around."

You shivered, not simply noticing, but feeling his eyes pore over you. “They’re not interested.”

“Fuck that. Don’t know if you heard sweetheart, but omegas are made for us to fuck and breed.”

“No,” you said, almost indignantly, “they aren’t.” To be reduced to something so primitive and incidental put anger in your veins. It was a sore, but inevitable topic you were unfortunate to suffer so often.

“Yeah. They are. Don’t know how that hand-creep hasn’t tried to jump your bones yet. I sure as shit would have, by now.”

Then, considering his words, he made a curious frown. “Unless you hide to keep away from that guy.” As he thought of these depraved illustrations in his head, put pieces of his own mused puzzle together, the grim smile returned. “Yeah. I can see that. Putting your own sanity on the line because you don’t wanna provoke your boss. You’d rather scurry off than deal with that guy. You really are scared of alphas, huh?”

“No,” you spat. “Tomura is…“ God, you hated this, hated how his smell was driving you crazy, making you pliant. “Tomura doesn’t need distractions. He’s not very… well-equipped to handle these sort of things.”

You wouldn’t mention how the visual of Tomura’s hands gripping you with alpha-driven need, unwittingly cursing your skin with his quirk, obliging your flesh to break away under his clutches and slowly split you open was a terror that kept you awake some nights.

“I stay out of the way for both our sakes,” you said, shaking the fearsome thoughts away. “Everything works out fine the way it is. We want it this way. We know how to focus on our mission and that only."

He shrugged, unconvinced. “Sure, gotta keep the peace or whatever. Don’t wanna turn the League into a rut fest. Puttin’ the greater good over their alpha needs, over what’s in their pants."

You frowned at him, displeased with the vulgarity.

He snickered to see it. “Commendable of them and all that. But…” He pushed from the wall he’d leaned against and came towards you. You inched away, heart beating fast at the sudden approach. “I’m a little more radical about this stuff, I guess you could say. I think you’d be much more useful if you weren’t so pent up.”

When he crouched down in front of you, you backed into the wall that you sat against, but there was no room for escape. He wasn’t smiling now, only perusing you with expressionless intensity. You tried to suppress a shiver when his eyes rolled down your body.

“Never really been all that concerned with this sort of stuff, not gonna lie. I’ll rut when I need to. Otherwise shit starts getting complicated and I can’t think straight.” He shrugged. “But in case you haven’t noticed, my body ain’t all that suited for frantic ruts. I try to take it easy, if possible. But… I always thought it was a little dumb that we’re engineered to think with what’s between our legs, most of the time.”

And so saying, his warm had slid between your partially opened thighs, which shivered at his touch and clamped together quickly to deny him.

But he wasn’t deterred, and shoved against the resistance, slipping the invading hand under your skirt.

“Stop,” you demanded, breath automating into nervous pants. In sudden fear of being happened upon by the others, you glanced around feverishly, your feet shuffling on the ground to push you back against the wall.

“Stop, now.” Your hands were on his arm, trying to push him away. “Dabi,” you insisted, trying to sound firm. But it did little to deter him.

“See? Bet if you weren’t so damn skittish you’d be putting up a real fight.” His hand finally broke through the tight resistance of your thighs, and his fingers pressed against your underwear. They were damp to the touch.

He laughed, and stroked over the wetness with his knuckle, making you keen and try to pull away.

“Ridiculous,” he muttered, looking down between your trembling thighs. “Unless you were playing with yourself before I got here, I’m guessin’ this is because of me?”

He took the wet fabric between his two fingers and rubbed together. “And what’d I do for you to get like this? You’re not even in heat. And I’ve barely got a scent on me right now. We’re just talking, ______. You really that hot for me, sweetheart?”

At the sound of your name coming from his mouth, gravelly and low, you shuddered, and put an arm over your mouth to keep in a stammering moan. But his other hand came and pulled the limb away.

“Please,” you stuttered out. “Stop.”

“Am I the first alpha who’s touched you like this?” he asked, ignoring your plea.

Your thighs tightened around him again, and one of your hands went to his collar, squeezing into it in meager resistance.

That too he ignored, and looked at you with plain impatience. “Am I?”

You whimpered and nodded, unable to form words when your lips were stuck harshly bitten between your teeth.

“Yeah, thought so.”

Then his thumb worked its cruel intentions and circled your clit. The pathetic gasp he received in turn made him chuckle.

“Nah. See, this isn’t supposed to happen.” His thumb pressed harder and your head knocked back against the wall. “I’ve seen some pretty slutty omegas, but this is plain stupid.”

“I’m—” You practically hiccuped through a whine, and squeezed your eyes shut, your quirk threatening to reveal itself, answering the calls of your panic and ready to defend against his assault. “I’m not a slut—”

He brushed up on your clit hard and you whimpered, defense all but surmounted.

“Okay, fine. You’re not a slut. You’re just damn sensitive because you’ve never given your body what it needs.” He grinned his wicked grin. “An alpha.”

You shook your head. “No—”

“Yes.”

You shook it vigorously now, and your hands came back to life, pushing at him. “No.”

“Yes, _____,” he breathed, laughing. “I thought you were supposed to be smart. Alpha, omega, whatever—those instincts make your brain all mushy if you don’t get it under control. You’ve got some dissonance going on in your head. You’re really letting yourself go because of it. You wanna be a good ally for your boss, but you can’t, because you’re too scared to—"

“I’m not,” you insisted, eyes wrenching themselves open to look at him. He was amused, depravedly amused, but still remarkably composed for how ruthlessly he was teasing you. “I just don’t want it–”

He snorted loudly, and you were sure the sound would echo and bring someone upon the spectacle. “You don’t want it? Seriously? Now you’re just in denial.”

His fingers coiled around your panties and shoved against your bare skin; your pussy was wet and warm to the touch.

“I can smell your slick, holy fuck,” he muttered. For the first time, though everything up until this point had been cruelly entertaining but not entirely stimulating, he felt his cock twitch, and his mouth water. He hummed. “Bet you taste like vanilla, too, don’t you?”

“St-stop,” you stuttered, face going hot with embarrassment, hiding it against your shoulder as if it would help mitigate the fluster.

He let go of the arm he’d been restraining, put a hand on your knee, and tried to push your legs open. He was surprised when met with resistance; you kept your thighs locked together like a vice, making it substantially more difficult to move his fingers on your clit the way he wanted.

He scoffed.

“Open your legs,” he demanded of you, and felt your body twitch at the command.

He looked at you, and was pleased to find you staring back, wide-eyed and jolted. His blue eyes narrowed autocratically.

He spoke his command slower, but with more authority, “Open them. Now."

And when you did, he let out a breathy laugh of satisfaction, and admired the mess of wetness between your thighs. “See? See how easy that was?”

One hand gripped the soft flesh of your thigh—shit, the skin was practically begging for his teeth to sink in, to make you bleed, to mark you—while the occupied continued its ministrations, fingers jerking quickly over your pink clit.

"What if I were some enemy tryin’ to get some information out of you, huh? You’d probably spill everything about the League to another alpha the second he gave your pussy any attention. Shit,” he laughed, head cocking curiously as he played with the folds of your cunt, “I’m just teasin' you a little and you’re already dripping, for one. For two, following my every command like a good little whore.”

You shook your head, wordless in your denial. You thought you could taste blood in your mouth from your own lips, teeth digging in harshly to give your body any sensation to distract from the burgeoning pleasure. Your nerves were trampling over one another, all of them somehow alight with fire, but numb all the same.

“Imagine what I, or any other alpha, really, could get you to do with a cock inside you. Ever think of that? And if you were in heat?” He scoffed. “Forget it. You’re pretty much a liability at this point. Don’t know why the hell your boss keeps you around. It’s pathetic.”

Bracing both hands on his shoulders, you loosed a strangled moan of frustration, fingers biting into his clothes, pressing against the lean muscle beneath. He didn’t seem to care, too focused on the pink, twitching flesh now turning red from his fingers' abuse. He swiped his pointer and middle across your clit in a dizzying pace, until the tendons in his wrists burned and his knuckles ached. But your scent… fuck, the fucking scent—

He prided himself on his practiced fortitude against alpha instincts; his body, wracked by the toll of his quirk, was vulnerable as it was. Willpower was necessary to stave off the feral hunger that often made him forget his own fragility and indulge the fierceness of ruts and heats. It always ended with loose staples and bloody rivulets along his skin. Self-aware as he was of his own limitations, he so rarely let himself indulge his body’s desires.

But fuck if you weren’t testing him.

You were close, you knew, your body spasming and breath catching in every interval. You panicked, tried to fight it, but it was as though his fingers had caged your volition somewhere in the back of your mind, and instead propagated all senses to pleasure.

“Fucking tease,” he muttered under his breath, but you barely heard him above the frenzied din in your brain.

Just as you felt something in you stirring irrevocably, both his hands left you, and he stood to his feet.

You nearly toppled over, and spilt over yourself awkwardly to try and catch yourself on the ground. The wet slide between your thighs was horribly palpable, and horribly embarrassing.

You panted as you gathered yourself, looking up at him in flustered awe as you shut your thighs and protectively shoved your skirt back into place.

He was admiring his fingers, the wetness coating them, and when he noticed your gaze, waved them at you teasingly. “See this?”

So wet, you thought, humiliated, as a sticky strand started to spill from his finger. You shivered, your face sweltering and flushed.

“This is your body’s way of telling you that it’s beggin’ to be filled.”

You shuddered, and held yourself miserably, trying to fight the unsatisfied heat in your veins with calming breaths. “You’re horrible,” you whispered, your mouth dry.

“Nah. I’m being a nice guy. The only smart one around here, too, looks like.”

He licked at his fingers, a shudder going down his spine when he tasted the sweetness. It was unreal. “This is ridiculous. You wouldn’t have to worry so much about scurrying away from alphas if your smell wasn’t so strong. If you’re heat wasn’t so strong. And none of it would be, if you just did what you were made to do. You’re repressed. Backed up as hell—”

“I wasn’t made to do anything,” you argued, frustration returning.

“You can keep sayin’ it, but it doesn’t make it any less true. You’re more trouble than you’re worth, honestly. Got everyone jumpin’ through hoops for you because you’re so damn sensitive. I ain’t gonna do that.”

You sat there in a heap, fidgeting uncomfortably and fighting for any sense of self-determination you could. He’d said his scent was scant, but you swore it was filling the room, pulping your thoughts and dizzying your nauseous head.

“Clearly you’ve been stuck with some pretty underwhelming alphas until now,” he said. “So I’m gonna do you a favor. Next time you’re in heat, find me, and I’ll do something about it.”

He wiped his dirtied fingers on his shirt, then left you there.

⤰

A month later, Dabi got a call.

“What?” he answered curtly, thinking it was Shigaraki from a burner number. The boss did that sometimes, despite there being little need for throwaways. It was theatrical and annoying.

“It’s me.”

After a pause of non-recognition, you sighed, “It’s ______.”

“Oh?” You could hear the smile in his voice.

In the alley, Dabi admired the burning body he’d just finished off, the corpse kindling his blue flames nicely as it crumbled to ash.

He laughed lowly. “Yeah. Been about a month, hasn’t it. You had some time to think sweetheart?”

From the other end, you bit your lip. “I have rules.”

Something seeped into his blood and swelled within him. Like a breeze carried from somewhere far off, he got a whiff of your sweet scent, just a ghost of it, and licked his lips.

“Seems a little over the top,” he said. “But I’m listening.”

There was a sound in the alley behind him, and he glanced over his shoulder.

You took a deep breath on the other end, nervously playing with the hem of your shirt. “I’ll be at a different place tonight. Another safehouse, down by the docks. The first rule is that when you get here, you have to—”

Dabi heard the cocking of a gun. The disdainful comrade of the dead, scorched man had the weapon raised and trained on him, spouting some threatening nonsense of vengeance. The flame-wielder huffed in annoyance.

“Can’t really talk right now,” he spoke into the receiver, his hands brightening with his quirk. “I’ll find the place. Better not get cold feet.”

“Dabi—”

But he hung up before you could say more.

⤰

You waited for the better half of the evening shot to pieces with doubt.

You’d gone over the situation a dozen times, and twice that number decided the uncontrollable confusions weren’t worth second-guessing; dictating right and wrong left you light-headed when your body was already a frenzied playground of sensation thanks to your heat.

You started to text him the address when midnight rolled around, just in case he’d gotten lost—then thought better of it. The uncertain doublet came again: You couldn’t do this. It was dangerous. You hadn’t witnessed Dabi’s brutality firsthand, but the hearsay was worrisome enough. He would break you. It would end horribly. Your quirk, or even his, would lash out—

Then the other half of the fretful analysis: Yes. You could do this. It was natural. It was true what he’d said, about you neglecting your body’s desires, and in turn leaving room only for self-sabotage. The thought of him drove you wild with uncertainty, but so did the notion of not doing this; your body was raging at the absence of touch. One which he was apparently willing to give.

Finally you called him, nerves scattered and patience thinned, deciding that whatever he had to say to you on the other line would determine whether or not you should carry on with your plans.

Almost as soon as you heard the ringing from the other line, so too did a chirpy noise come from right outside the safehouse door: a phone.

You blanched. Before you could make toward the door, the metal lever twisted with a creak and opened. He was there on the other side with his phone in hand, and lifted it teasingly when his eyes found you in the dim room.

“If you’re callin’ to give me directions, waste of time,” he said as he slunk inside. “I can smell you across the damn street.”

You shivered, smelling him, too: he radiated a warm scent, then that icy undertone which always perplexed you in the most enticing way.

He shut the door behind him, locked it, and inspected you. He huffed in amusement to see how nervous you were.

“You said you had some rules,” he started, coming towards you. Your heart started skipping. “Sounds like a lot of bullshit, so I wasn’t gonna remind you. But I guess if it’ll stop you from chickening out halfway…”

His hands were on you in an instant, at your sides, squeezing and kneading the flesh underneath your shirt. You froze. The dumbfounded look on your face had him smirking.

“Not that you’ll be able to once I get started,” he went on. “Or even want to. Probably gonna forget you even had rules once I stick it in you.”

The hands went down, gripped your ass, and brought your bodies together. You braced yourself against his forearms, stuttering when he wasted no time and pressed his face into your jaw, licking, kissing, teasing you with teeth.

Your eyes fluttered closed, mouth hanging open as he traveled down. At his touch, your mind slowed to blind submission. The excitement was stroking a fire in you that you hadn’t even known was there.

Fuck, it was too much. Already, too much.

“You gonna tell me?” he asked between kisses. "Or you already forgot?”

As he moved to your neck, he inhaled sharply through his nose. The sweet scent stirred a frenzy in his gut.

“Fuck.” The hands at your ass squeezed so hard that you gasped. “Goddamn girl,” he laughed breathily, grinding against you. “That shit’s good.”

“I—" You choked on your next words when he spread your thighs apart from behind, fingers curling under your skirt to feel for your panties. “The rules, I—”

“You better spit it out,” he warned, coming up to look at you, eyes fixed with hunger. “I’m not a patient guy. I’m really gonna pounce on you in a second if you don’t get on with it.”

It struck apprehension into you. You breathed out the words hurriedly, “Don’t mate me. Don’t give me a mating mark—”

He laughed in your face, making you blush, then went back to kissing at your neck.

“Didn’t plan on it. Don’t want a mate. Probably never will.” He kissed hard at your neck, breathed in your scent again with a hum. “Besides, even if I did, you’re not bad looking and I know your cunt’s gonna be nice and tight, but you’re not worth mating. You’re high-strung. It’s annoying.”

You bristled with anger, but his warmth was making every other sense dull to you. When his teeth teased the skin at your shoulder, you were wrangled back to focus.

“No marks,” you warned, just as his teeth sank in, and nudged away gently to dissuade him. “Don’t leave any. Kurogiri and Tomura can’t see–”

“I don’t give a fuck who sees,” he replied harshly, coming up to look at you. “Who cares? They were dumb enough to leave you unmated and practically dyin’ for a fuck, so forget them. I’m doing you a favor here, remember that. You can have some rules, but I’m doing whatever the hell I need to do.”

His fingers rubbed hard at your panties; they were wet to the touch. "Not like you’re gonna run out now. You’re fucking soaked.” With a pleased growl he went to your neck again, biting hard.

You squealed, but before he could start sucking at the skin, you reeled back and moved away from him. You pushed at his forehead with a hand, and he smacked it away.

“Then no,” you sighed out shakily once you’d gotten his attention. "We’re done here.”

You spoke it with such confidence that it actually earned you his consideration. He stared at you, half-impressed, but mostly, furious.

“If you can’t listen to me,” you muttered, braving his piercing eyes willingly, "then… then fuck off.”

He was scowling at you now, and without warning his fingers pinched your clit.

You gasped sharply and raggedly at the feeling, melting into his touch with weak legs. He had to hold you upright to prevent you from collapsing, and against your ear, he huffed angrily.

“That’s what I fucking thought, stupid slut.”

He shoved you down onto the mattress at your feet.

You were too dizzy to make a protest when he climbed over you, and had no voice on which to loose it when he ripped—literally ripped—your shirt apart and attacked your chest with harsh bites and licks. Your nipples got the worst of it: he went for them with a growl in his throat, claiming the peaks between his teeth, biting down so hard you squealed and kicked.

“You really don’t have a goddamn clue how this works, do you?” he was breathing out harshly. “What an alpha does to an omega?” He looked up at you. Your eyes were watery and trembling as they gawked down at him. “What I can do to you?”

His lips went down, and he shoved your skirt off of your legs, the panties going too. You had enough sense in you to shut your thighs, which made him scoff, and yank them apart painfully.

“Don’t you fuckin’ try it. This is mine right now. You and your little cunt, mine. Like it’s supposed to be.”

He knew even as the words came from his mouth like venom, that your scent, coupled with his long-unreleased pheromones, were pushing him to a point of brutality. He’d never been so prone to complete and utter dominance like this. And now looking between your thighs at the pink, swollen, shaven pussy twitching for him, he knew there was no chance you’d be getting any mercy.

“Look at this shit,” he muttered, dropping to his knees, and as a protest died on your lips, his own pressed against your wetness, breathing in your scent as he did, growling loud and wildly in his throat.

His hands went to your thighs and pulled, bringing you closer against him, ignoring the fingers in his hair that feebly tugged. A shaky whimper came on every one of your breaths, your mouth sputtering through frail pleas he didn’t understand and didn’t bother trying to.

He indulged one harsh, long, angry suck on your clit, and released with a wet smack. You cried, actually cried when he went back in and dug his tongue harshly against you.

“Dabi, Dabi—no, please–”

Your scent made him light-headed, made him forget for a split second where he was, made him forget the constant and residual pain from his quirk, the itch of his staples—made him forget it all.

You came on his tongue without warning, a loud screech dying in your throat as you arched off the mattress. He was too shocked to lick up the sweet cum that received him. His eyes shot open and he looked up at you; you were an absolute wreck: flushed, sweating, shaking, and seized with pleasure.

He tried to count in his head. How long had it been? A minute? Barely? Fucking ridiculous.

He sucked and sucked until you were writhing. He wanted to punish you, wanted you to see how fucking weak you were, how badly you needed this.

“Dabi—” you sobbed out, tears itching your eyes and rushing down your face.

He pulled off finally with a loud breath, smacking his lips, then went back down to lick up your pussy one more time to clean you with his tongue. You jerked and twisted miserably. Then he was climbing over you again, forcing you to face him.

“You see?” he panted. "See what I just did to you? See how fuckin’ quick you were to cum for me? That’s what you’ve been missing. You’re not in the position to be making demands or rules here, _____. This is what you deserve. This is what you need. You need an alpha, you need me, you need this—”

He took your hand and forced it to rub between his legs. You stuttered a pitiful breath when you felt the bulge there, so hot, so inhumanly hot, waiting for you. Under your touch it twitched, greedy to be inside you.

You shook your head, unable to keep your eyes open; the blinding pleasure made a transit to numbing warmth, and your lids were heavy with drowsiness.

Your lip trembled. “Please, I need a minute, please—"

“No. Fuck no.”

He shred his clothes quickly, pulling his jacket off, kicking his shoes off, clawing at his belt and throwing that off too—but getting no further than shoving his pants down his hips so his eager cock could spring free. He didn’t have the time for anything else. He didn’t have the fucking time.

“I was gonna go easy on you,” he muttered. "Just a little."

Manhandling you to a spread position beneath him, he was almost ready to shove into you—then he had an exhilarating idea, and flipped you over, slapping your ass hard and making you yell in surprise. He wanted to take you like this: dominating, and utterly primal.

He forced your hips up, ass out, pussy spreading for him. He took his cock, flicked the head mercilessly against your clit until you were keening. A firm hand on your hip prevented you from squirming away.

“Please,” you sobbed again, gasping, body trembling. The heat. The heat. It was too much. Your skin crawled with euphoric pinpricks of fire. You needed it. You needed it. “Please, Dabi—”

“Please what?” he snapped, fire in his veins, vanilla flooding his head. “There’s no way in hell you want me to stop, so you’re beggin’ me for more. Use your words then. Say it.”

Your shook your head, mouth dry and gaping. “I can’t—”

He smacked your ass again and you jolted, unable to stop from curling into yourself as you orgasmed; the scent of your slick invaded his nose and he realized what you’d done. A dangerous, slow, ragged laugh bubbled from his throat.

“My god you’re so fucking pathetic. Look at that.” He kneaded his hand hard into your ass, pulling and stretching the skin, keeping your pussy fleshed out for him. “Look at this shit. It’s dripping. I want you to admit how pathetic you are.” He started to jerk himself hard, precum spilling over his fingers in messy streams. “Say it.”

You shook your head, pressing it hard into the mattress below. His hand went for your hair, yanked it backwards, and a tight yell tore out of your throat.

“Say it right now or you’re not getting my dick. I can shove it in your throat and get off just fine.” Oh, but how fucking badly he needed to put it in your cunt... “Say it. Say you’re pathetic, and that you need an alpha cock. Say it.”

“Dabi, please—“ Your hips arched upwards, begging, completely overrun with need. He shoved you back down, dismantling your sanity with every second went without feeling him inside of you.

“Say it now or I swear I’m gonna leave you here, _____.” He yanked your hair tighter, his hand flying on his cock. Everything felt so good. Too good. Too fucking hazy. “I’m gonna use your mouth or these tits to get off, and then I’m gonna leave you here, dripping and fucking pathetic and alone. Alone in your heat like you always are, you stupid whore.”

The thought made you whimper despairingly; in turn, he groaned loudly as he worked precum out in rapid strokes.

“Say it. Now. Now.”

“I’m—” Needy sobs wracked your voice, your hands clutching the mattress. “I’m a—I’m pathetic, I’m pathetic—”

“Fuck,“ he moaned loud and heavy, pinching the base of his cock to hold off release, then going back to stroking again, unable to go without stimulus. “What else? What else, _____?”

“I’m pathetic and I need your cock!” you cried out, too desperate for pride, too desperate for anything else. “I need an alpha cock, I need it—Dabi, damn it, please!—”

You practically screamed when he rammed into you, a loud shout tensing out of him as he let go of your hair. He put both hands at your hips to hold you in place for his violent thrusts.

Your mouth was open in vacant stupor, eyes rolling, feeling another orgasm ripping through you almost instantaneously.

“Fuck… fuck,” he breathed, feeling you tighten around him. He growled angrily, biting his lip until the burnt, abused skin swelled and bled. “You fucking—fuck—” Your slickness was in such abundance that little specks flew with every one of his thrusts, making his cock spear in and out perfectly and without restraint.

Every muscle in his body screamed for release, so soon, so quickly. His balls ached for it, spittle flew from his mouth with every ragged breath he took. Your back arched so nicely underneath him. You were such a perfect fucking omega he almost couldn’t stand it.

He shut his eyes tight, hand going to fist back into your hair and wrench upwards. You didn’t protest, didn’t even let a sound leave your throat despite the pain it brought. It didn’t take away the pleasure; nothing could. Nothing could ever take this away: the stretch of his thick, long cock pounding into you, hitting that spot over and over again until you came once more, then twice, then a third time.

He was breathing so raggedly that it branched pain into his lungs; his fingers dug into your hip so harshly that blood spilled from beneath his nails.

“Fuck,” he breathed, almost like a whisper: an angry, desperate, hissing whisper. “Oh fuck, _____...”

Everything was too much: your scent, the sight of you, your perfect cunt gripping mercilessly with every thrust. He bent forward, stuttering his hips into you as his orgasm approached. Copper met his tongue when he bit harshly into your back.

Beyond his control, his quirk joined the fray of pleasure, blue flame flickering faintly along his palms and burning you. But fuck, it didn’t matter. Nothing fucking mattered but the wet slap of his hips ramming into you, the painful bite of his belt at your thighs, his teeth at your back, sharp alpha canines digging in.

He felt the flames on his face rising; along his jaw, in his hair, they had a mind of their own. He had the sense, just a sliver of it, to back away from you, saving you from the heat that licked parts of his face, even as his hand burned char into your hip.

His rhythm was going; he was close. It hurt. It fucking hurt. He needed to let go. Needed to give you his cum. Needed to pump it in your eager little omega cunt.

“I’m—shit,” he choked, swallowing the dryness in his mouth and moaning long and low. “Tell me you want it baby girl,” he panted. “Tell me you want this cum. Tell me.”

“I—” You coughed miserably, body beyond your muscles’ command. “I want it—”

“What? What do you want? Say it, sweetheart—fuck, tell me—Tell me you want my cum and I’ll fucking give it to you—” You squeezed him tight, too tight, and he keeled over with a grunt. "You feel so damn good. Fuck I’m gonna give it to you, gonna fill this tight pussy come on, come on—”

“I want your cum!” you sobbed, tightening around him as if on instinct. He grabbed your hips with both hands, fucked into you primally now, an angry, seething growl in his throat that was far from human.

Flames on his back, on his arms, on his neck. The skin where his hands held you steamed and you moaned in agony, or maybe pleasure—maybe both. He didn’t care. Neither did you.

“Fuck!” he shouted, just as his hips stuttered and fire shot up his spine. He threw his head back, tendons on his neck flaring, arms and legs shaking as he came inside. “Fucking shit—”

He panted for air, felt staples pulling in places all over him, felt his balls burning with pleasure and heard your mangled cry as he gave you what your body needed, what it had always fucking needed.

He didn’t stop fucking into you until his body couldn’t physically answer his brutal needs, and he bent over you, one last and hard thrust sending you flat against the mattress. His searing body pressed flush against you, met your nipped skin in an overwhelming contrast and forced a whimper from your throat.

He bit into you wherever his mouth could reach, claimed you in any way he could without irrevocably mating you. Lost in the heat of it all, in the pleasure that burned up his spine and gave him vertigo, he wanted nothing else but you: to dominate you, make you submissive, fucking own you until you knew nothing else but him and his cock and his seed inside you—but he couldn’t mate you. Wouldn’t. 

Maybe not yet. 

His flames subsided on their own, leaving smoke to rise all over his skin like overworked geysers; a steaming form on top of yours. The pungency of the expelled fumes would have surely made you nauseous any other time, but your senses were dulled to discomforts and pains alike.

You panted heavily beneath him, quivering under his weight. He lay his head against your back and breathed.

Wanting to push himself upright he twisted a hand into the cushion next to your head, tried to work himself up, but unable to with the debility of his worn muscles.

“Goddamnit,” he rasped, then, forcing strength into his limp limbs, pushed up on a shaky arm and righted himself dizzily. He had to close his eyes, reclaim his vision from the black spots encompassing it, then blinked the room back into focus.

You made some mousy noise beneath him. Then you squirmed, tightening around his oversensitive dick and making him grunt.

He pulled out of you carefully, slowly, every inch dissuaded by the tight squeeze. Wetness made a sleek mess of it all, slick streaks down to your knees, on his own skin, too; splattered against his pelvis, dripping down his balls and his thighs. He shivered. All of this, all of this mess for him, because of him.

His seed spilled out of you when his cockhead, red and twitching, released itself. His cum was hotter than what should have been normal. As it dripped down your thighs it felt like a simmering stream.

The mess, primal though flattering as it was, was quickly something of an agitation on his sweltering skin, and he wanted to be rid of it. A hand was at your back to steady himself, and he pushed at it again to keep his balance—that was when he noticed the full scope of the burns he’d left on you. The burns, the bruises, the blood. He looked upon the violence he’d done with careful regard. He knew from a simple glance, and from experience, that the burns were so severe they would be beyond full healing. You’d have them there forever. A token of his brutality, of his lust.

He closed his eyes and breathed out a sigh to steady himself.

“Oi.”

He pushed at you, and your limp body moved jointlessly beneath him. He wet his mouth to alleviate some of the dryness. His heart raced and his ears felt stuffed by warmth.

“Oi, you bring a towel? Something to wipe this mess up?” Your cum on his skin was cooling uncomfortably. “Oi.” He shook you a little harder when you kept to your silence, and a quiet whine answered him. “C'mon.”

There was a tiny movement: you attempting to push on your arms. But they were utterly useless to the command of your body. A raspy sound came from your throat, like you were trying to speak in murmurs.

He leaned in. “What?”

You tried again, to little betterment. He tsked, impatience entering his body again despite how languid it felt, and smacked your ass lightly, making you jump.

“I can’t hear you dummy, speak up."

You gave up, and trying to muster what little forte you could, moved a shaking arm and pointed to a bag off to your left. He understood, reached for it, his muscles screaming at him in ache, and set about cleaning himself with a towel he found inside.

He thought better of doing the same for you, but was again drawn to the wounds he’d left on you. Provoking an alpha-like possessiveness in him as they did, they were unsightly, and some far away part of him regretted what he’d done. He cleaned you carefully, in the smallest form of apology he was capable of evoking.

When the rough towel wiped over your sensitive clit you shivered miserably, and he huffed a quiet, weak laugh, his eyes heavy-lidded.

“Such an omega.”

He tugged his pants back up his waist and sunk down into the mattress at your side. He’d mastered his breathing again, though there was a heat in his lungs, like smoke, which made every breath feel powerful and choking. The smoke had all but gone from his skin, however, extinguished by his mind returning to lucidness.

But there was still a trace of the ferocious alpha in him there, his legs and depleted cock twitching when he breathed in and smelled you, a warmer vanilla now: something changed and unpure now that you’d been rutted. And he knew, possessively, with a shot of primal instinct going down his spine and making fire roll through him, that he’d forever changed you.

He looked over at you, realizing for the first time that you’d been completely inanimate. You barely looked to be breathing; your inhales came in irregular, heavy intervals, as if each breath taken succeeded a reminder that you were still alive, awake.

He knew it was the adrenaline still rushing in his veins that made him do it, but he reached out, pushed at your head gently so you would look his way, and brushed the matted hair from your face.

Your skin was flushed with sweat. A damp spot in the mattress must have been tears, and probably drool. It wasn’t particularly nice to look at, but it stirred something in him nevertheless. You were a mess. An utter mess. His mess.

Your eyes were closed, pupils fluttering beneath the lids like shaking leaves.

“Open your eyes,” he said, for no particular reason.

But they shut tight at the command, and your breathing picked up, as if you were debating between obeying or not.

“Open them,” he told you again, no firmer, but apparently, it was persuasive all the same. Tears slipped from your ducts when you complied, eyes shining and trembling.

He ignored the part of him that ached to fall into his greedy impulses again. It was alluring. Not just because you were an omega, but because you were you. And he’d fucked you. He’d taken you. He was your first alpha.

Without further instruction to do otherwise, your eyes started to close again, and the hand that still held your hair from your forehead tugged lightly, entreating your eyes to stay trained on him.

“Nuh uh, wake up. Talk to me a little, before you pass out.”

You hummed groggily in response, your mouth open but too dry to form around words. You sealed your lips together, swallowed the dryness.

“Can’t move,” you managed raspily, staring at him, looking exhaustedly vulnerable and knowing you did, too.

He watched you, debating leniency, and decided he’d give you some, just for good measure.

You made an uncomfortable whine when he took your forearm and dragged you to him. He didn’t try to hold you, or keep you against him. Instead when you curled into your little ball against his side, moaning as you did at having to stretch your body’s abused muscles, he let you. What he didn’t deny of intimacy, however, was the arm he draped over you leisurely, just to feel you as he lay on his back and stared at the ceiling.

His thumb brushed over the flesh of your hip, and felt the corrugated, slowly cooling flesh there. The sensation made him grimace. It was so like the gnarly, repulsive texture of his own skin. Not as severe by a long shot, but nevertheless, unpleasant to the touch.

“Hurt?” he asked.

You blinked lazily, his voice sounding like a waning echo to your numb ears. “What...?”

“Your hips. Look at them.”

You forced your eyes open; they rolled themselves into nausea when you shifted to look. When you noticed the pinkish, creased wound on your burned skin, you froze, then started to shiver in your dismay.

“You… I…” Your unsteady hand moved, a finger traced over the rough, still raw skin. Clearly, the pain was lost on you, lust granted. But the sight had your stomach twisting, its emptiness sloshing uncomfortably at the sight of your own damaged flesh; you could even smell it, strong and sickening like cooking meat.

“You’re lucky that’s all I did,” he muttered, selfishly flippant. “And you’re lucky I did it there.”

You took a shaky breath, and shut your eyes, resigned to your body’s lethargy. “Asshole.”

He humphed. “It’ll heal,” he lied. “I’ve had worse, clearly. Done worse, too. It won't get infected.”

You were quiet afterwards, volitionally so, barely keeping your hostility in check. He was more than aware of your chagrin, and didn’t particularly care. If you started feeling it later, he’d go get you meds for the pain. But he’d known omegas to be particularly resilient in their heats. There was very little that registered above the natural pleasure of being filled by an alpha.

“I’m…”

He glanced down at you, saw your mouth opening and closing in determined hesitation.

“I’m not a whore,” you managed croakily, and irritably.

He started laughing. “You gonna hold that against me?”

“I’m not a whore.” You scowled, resentful of his carefree ribbing. “And I’m not”—you sputtered, breathing hard through a phlegm-choked cough–“a slut.”

His laugh subsided into a low chuckle in his chest. You didn’t see the wry grin on his face, but heard it.

He shrugged. “I say shit when I’m high on fucking. Don’t take it so personally.” But he couldn’t stop now that the warmth of craftiness was twisting in him. “Besides…” The arm draped over you shifted, found your ass, and gave a generous squeeze. You whimpered in objection. “You basically are my whore, now.”

You shivered with frustration. Despite the wild—incredibly wild and earth-shattering sex, you were conceiving a poorer and poorer image of him the more he gloated. With renewed strength, you rose on your arm and pushed his hand off.

“I’m not,” you insisted testily.

“I get you don’t know how this shit works,” he started, “so guess I’ll explain it to you.”

There it was again: the possessive, ravenous wildfire in his veins that coaxed his arm to reclaim its spot at your back, bring you closer to him. Adjusting his position, he let your head rest on his stomach; your legs curled comfortably around his own for comfort. He watched your head rise and fall as he breathed steadily.

“May not have mated you,” he went on, anticipating your griping, "but I’m your alpha now.”

You tensed at the declaration, he noticed, but no more than that.

“And it’s gonna stay that way unless you let some other one take you in a heat, which I don’t see you doing. Unless you’re just so dick hungry after this that you let any guy fuck you.”

One of your feet dug opposedly into his calf and he snickered. “Didn’t think so. To the last part, I mean. Trust me…” His hand smoothed over your ass again, and he smirked when you moaned quietly. “You’re gonna be hungry for it.”

“I can’t handle anymore,” you muttered, breath puffing against his stomach. Even those giddy times you’d imagined your first alpha taking you, envisioned a night of passion that would end in ardent nurturing, wrapped under your dominant’s embrace, protected and warm and wanted—you now balked the indulgent, cherished ideal of it. This was not what you had expected. Dabi was not what you had expected.

“I can’t,” you started, lacking the confident breath to loose your doubts on. “I don’t even… feel it. It’s gone.”

“You’re still in heat. It’ll pop back up when your body’s ready. I’m hoping you don’t need a biology lesson for this shit, but point of a heat is to get you knocked up. You get that, right?”

“Obviously.”

“Obviously,” he mocked. “And obviously since I’m not tryin’ to make you a mother, I didn’t do that. Your body’s gonna keep beggin’ for it until I give it to you, and I won’t. So you’ll get your heat back once your junk down there realizes it’s empty and wants to try again, except it’s gonna be a lot crazier this time, since you’ve finally had a taste. Told you that you were only hurting yourself by holding out this long."

You started to follow the logic. It wasn’t anything you hadn’t heard before. But to hear it fleshed out like this, by the alpha who had taken you, felt somewhat like a hazardous warning.

“I just… “ You shook your head against him. “We did it. You said that would be enough. That it wouldn’t be so bad, now…”

“You thought one fuck would fix it?” he asked, condescension taking an amusing slope in his tone.

You didn’t answer, and he grinned.

“You got a lot to learn, sweetheart. Gotta get you through the whole heat, first. Life would be easy for you omegas if one fuck could take care of your problems.” He hummed. “No, you’re gonna be dyin’ to get bred up until your heat is over. I’m not gonna do that, but I’ll fill you up for a little relief.” Something about his own words made him twitch in anticipation, and he put a hand on your head, pinched a handful of hair gently in his fist. “Until you need it again. And again.”

You heart was beating fast. He felt it against his side. “We don’t have to,” you said.

“Don’t have to what?”

“I’m too tired,” you insisted, feeling your body lag into the mattress. “I won’t want it anymore. I’m done. This will be fine. I don’t need you.”

He laughed with such smugness that your cheeks went hot.

“Now you’re just being dumb… But fine. Think what you want. Give it a couple hours. You’ll be clawing at my dick before morning.” He picked idly at the drying blood under his nails, frowning to see it, but too amused by the prospect of your ignorance to regret his violence anymore. “And now, I’m gonna make you work for it.”

“I won’t. You got what you wanted. And I… you made your point.” You shoved off of his body, pushed away from him scornfully on limbs that were seconds from giving out, and sat yourself upright.

Your spine curled and straightened enticingly as you arched up; he watched with covetous appreciation, then saw the red blood drying on your back. He tried not to put out a spiteful laugh.

Let you find the mess he’d made later, he decided. For now, a more urgent matter was making sure his dick didn’t get too hard before you were ready to go again. But you stretched so nicely like that, reminding him of how your body had dipped so obediently for him when he’d bent you over and fucked you cross-eyed.

“You need to leave,” you said.

Snorting, he went back to picking at his nails. “I’m stayin’ right here. Even if I didn’t still have a job to do, this is a nice bed. Better than the couches at the bar, ya know. Nice little nest you’ve made for yourself."

“Then… I’m leaving.” You tried to stand, and failed, legs sliding out from under you and giving your body back to the mattress beneath.

“No you ain’t,” he snickered. “Even if you could find another place to wait off the heat before it came back again, you’re gonna run back to me.”

“I don’t need you,” you insisted decisively, angrier now.

“Yeah, you do. I’m your alpha now, remember?” He saw your shoulders rise with a heavy, angry breath. “You said it yourself. You’re pathetic, and you need an alpha cock. And right now, that’s mine."

“…Fuck you.”

He cackled patronizingly, like it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard, giving no stock to your anger at all.

Indignation compelled you to your feet, wobbling, a hand going between your thighs to feel the hot throbbing there.

That was when you noticed the blood, and some of the bruises. You shook your head, infuriated with yourself, and with him.

“You’re… sick,” you muttered. “I can’t believe I let you… You’re a sick bastard."

He chuckled dismissively, and stopped himself from reaching out to grab you like he wanted to—that attitude of yours made you really fuckable.

Instead he rested back into the mattress, forcing his hands to keep busy on his nails, on his staples.

“Keep it up sweetheart,” he muttered. "When you’re wet for me again in a few hours, I’m gonna remember you said that."

“Fuck you,” you said again, too disillusioned to think carefully on the foreboding, and found your clothes.

Then, forgetting he’d torn them, you threw the tattered garb at him.

He ignored you, unfazed, flicking the ineffectual shirt off his chest as you rummaged through your bag for a new one.

You pulled it over your head, then, with a final glare of indignant reproval, walked off.

He didn’t bother asking where you were going. He knew you would be back.

[emblemxeno]

I remember seeing this theory that Ionius might have been in league w/ Those Who Slither well before Edelgard was experimented on and when he failed at consolidating power the Slithers killed/replaced Arundel to get ahold of Edelgard and experiment on her to create the ultimate emperor to topple the church (and that Ionius was compliant in this and just lied to Edelgard to help form her into someone to topple the church bc if he couldn't have all power over Fodlan then he'd leave an heir who could)--this theory suggested the other noble houses were threatened by the Slithers (which is...somewhat backed by Hubert and Hanneman's supports if you're generous with the interpretation); I'm not doing the theory justice, it was written in much clearer words, but that was the gist and like, it almost explains the uh...utter mess of Edelgard's family and whatever the fuck is going on with her writing, but as you're analysis of her family and the compare/contrast w/ the Nohr siblings shows, 3H's writing is just...a mess. I love deeply analyzing game writing and lore, esp. when there's so much potential for a deeper and interesting thread behind the narrative, but w/ 3H sometimes I have to step back and remember that the writing really is just sloppy and that things were added in last minute or not at all (the translated interview with some of the writers gives me a headache, as a creative, bc why would you be that careless with your own writing). Anyhow, I admire your continued analyses of all things FE, despite the bad writing of some of the games.

That's another theory I can get behind! Because unless Ionius is fucking blind (or some foul play happened along the way) Lysithea says that "pale skinned mages" were sent by the Empire to conduct experiments on the Ordelia household. So he might have been working with them and lied to Edelgard. God, I want the writers to do another interview or release some notes or something to untangle some of this mess. I might look for that theory soon.

And yeah, it's just... 3H is in such a weird position for me. I love the character writing for starters (I think supports are the best written part of the game) but the story writing, logistics of things and basic foundation puts me through a rollercoaster.

I've said enough about the game's Show vs. Tell problems to last a lifetime. I hate that Rhea is put on a bus in 3 of the routes when she's supposed to be an extremely important character. 2 of the routes which explain the true history of Fodlan have the explanations come in the form as lore dumps at the final chapters and lore dumps are just bad, especially since it gives no characters besides Claude the chance to react to the reveals. Characters we're told are important but are never seen, and unlike the writers, I don't think it makes the world feel bigger, I think it's almost comical (and dumb) that the party keeps just missing Count Bergliez and Holst for example, and that gets worse when we do get to see/meet NPCs who are little more than bit players in the grand scheme, like Annette's uncle or Baron Ochs.

Edelgard's Brady Bunch family is just another layer of "What?" on top of it all, and what gets me is just how ludicrous it is. I can suspend my disbelief for a lot (just look at how much I brush aside Valla's magic plot stuff lmao) but the idea of 10 royal children being killed/disease ridden/rendered crazy and no one else seeming to know about it or give a shit with no clear explanation as to why is personally too much for me to let go. Especially coming after Fates and Echoes which both did similar plot points but the former had clear reasons why the concubine feuds were kept out of public eyes and the latter had the general public aware that Lima's heirs died and executed.

3H just has so many details that should be important-and sometimes are treated as such-but are left weirdly ignored, even against all reason. The game needed a few more months in the oven IMO, if only just to sort out things like that. If I remember right, in the interview they said the game became it's own beast of sorts? And I'll never forget them saying something like "there's not even one person among the team that knows everything." Like... that's not impressive to me, that's a sign that the plot seems to be getting out of control.

[ijenoyou]

Out of my league.

kun x reader.

summary; he always admired from afar but not this time.

requested. send one!

warnings; none haha i mean it includes mentions of gummy bears lol fluff and humor.

notes; sooooo i’m sorry this took so long to finally post (˃̣̣̣̣︿˂̣̣̣̣ ) but i was quite busy with school (it’s kicking my ass lol) anyways remember english isn’t my first language sooo ignore the mistakes if you see one lmao

Kun was always the one between all his friends that only admired girls from afar. Of course not in a weird way, he likes to admire the beauty of each one of them and later on forget about it.

But he couldn’t forget about you.

You were a new transferred student who happens to be best friends with his own friend, Lucas.

Kun first saw you at the mini gathering Lucas was doing at his apartment. When he entered his friends home he saw you sitting next to Sicheng, talking about which color of gummy bears tastes better.

“Yellow is the best one.” You said while taking one of the bag you were holding.

“You’re crazy! They taste so bad, red ones are the winner here.” Sicheng defended his posture on the argument making you roll your eyes faking annoyance.

You were about to speak again until Kun interrupted you.

“I think the yellow ones are tasty.” He softly spoke making you and Sicheng turn towards him.

He didn’t know what overcame him to speak out like that. He was always sitting in silence while hearing his friends talk, but not this time.

When he didn’t get any answer he started to regret his decision until you smiled.

“See? He knows about good taste.” You pushed your friend with your shoulders and stood up from your sitting position. “I’m Y/N.”

Kun made sure his hands weren’t sweaty before taking yours in between his.

“Kun.”

Sicheng watched the whole scene with a weird expression on his face, he turned his head towards Lucas who was busy playing tetris on his phone, he pinched his arm to get his attention.

“Ow! What was that for?” Lucas answered and started to rub his arm, trying to calm the burning he felt from Sicheng’s fingers.

“Look at them.” He whispered and nodded towards you and his quiet friend.

“What about them?”

“What about them?! Kun never talks to girls out of the blue and Y/N never smiles to boys like she just did with him.”

After saying that, Lucas’s eyes widened. He snapped his head upwards and searched for the both of you. He found you next to Kun at the kitchen counter, making a drink that included those disgusting yellow gummy bears you liked so much.

“Oh god.” He whispered to Sicheng. “I’ve never seen her like that.”

“I know!” Sicheng answered with excitement.

He knew you way before Lucas, you and him were neighbors since baby’s and stayed friends all this time. So he definitely knows how you react around other guys.

You always tried to be polite but never gave them a single smile or stuff like that. You only did that with Sicheng and Lucas since they were practically your only friends alongside your roommate. They always joked about how you hate men and that the day you smile at one for real that will be because he’s the love of your life.

“I didn’t know Kun has a girlfriend.” Xiaojun said making Lucas and Sicheng flinch.

“Yeah, they look cute.” Ten answered and placed his hand on Xiaojun’s back.

“How did you guys get in?” Lucas questioned with surprise.

Ten pointed towards the other couch in the room, Hendery was playing red hands with Yangyang.

“Yang opened the door for us.” Ten said while taking one green gummy bear out of Sicheng’s bag.

“But how did they got in? They weren’t here before!”

Before anyone could say anything a strong laugh could be heard in the whole place. The six boys turned their heads and saw you and Kun laughing loudly at something he was showing you on his phone.

“Okay! Why don’t we play a game while waiting for our food?” Lucas asked everyone, grabbing your and Kun’s attention.

And that’s how you ended up almost choking Ten for hiding his uno cards by sitting on top of them so he could win. Two hours went by and it was time for you to leave.

“Damn i’m so full.” Hendery spoke while trying to keep his eyes open. “I’m getting food coma.”

You patted his head. “Good luck with that.”

You stretched your arms and decided to start putting your shoes on.

“Well, it’s was nice but I have to go back to my place, Wendy needs help with a project.”

You said goodbye to everyone and before you could say anything to Kun he decided to speak first.

“I’ll walk you.” A blush spread on your cheeks and the boys didn’t fail to notice it but said nothing about it.

“Don’t worry Kun.” You smiled and placed the hood of your hoodie on your head. “I live a few flats from here but if you one day want to come by just let me know.”

“Sure.” Kun tried to suppress a smile and nodded.

“Okay then, I’ll see you tomorrow guys!” That was the last thing you said before leaving.

The whole place was silent. Until Kun turned and saw all of his friends holding each other trying not to scream.

“What?” He asked.

“You like her!”

“She likes you!”

“I’m going to cry, our Kunnie finally spread his wings out.”

He couldn’t understand a single thing his friends said and decided to ignore them.

————

You first day at your new collage was great so far. You didn’t see any of the boys at all since all of them were majoring in different things. Expect for Kun.

“I didn’t know you were into law.” He spoke behind you.

You turned surprise and smiled.

“Hello there.”

He sat next to you, putting his backpack on the floor and took out his laptop with the rest of his materials for the class.

“Why didn’t you tell me about your major?” You asked while pressing the ‘on’ button of your laptop.

“You never asked.” Kun playfully answered and you softly punched him on the shoulder.

After that, the class started. Two long hours and Kun couldn’t be more surprised by you.

Since you were new, the teacher had his target on you. He asked a lot of question to you to see if you were capable of answering, which you did gaining a good response from the teacher.

Kun knew you were smart. At the reunion everytime you spoke you did it with such a smart input, like you had all of the right words.

“We have free class right now, so... vending machine?” He asked and you nodded.

Weeks went by like that. You and him spending most of the time together.

You study with him, eat with him, laugh with him.

The boys were surprised that at this point you and him haven’t kissed at least.

“Not even a tiny peck?” Ten pinched his fingers together while asking.

Kun shook his head and the boys groaned.

“I don’t want to make her uncomfortable.” He softly said and started to play with his fingers, a nervous habit he developed with the years. “And we don’t know if she even likes me like that!”

Sicheng gasped.

“Are you dumb?”

“Not even close, why?”

“There’s no time for jokes!” Sicheng’s dramatic voice appeared. “trust me with this dude, she likes you.”

Kun sighed and rubbed his eyes with his knuckles.

“Y/N is way out of my league.”

————

“How come your roommate is never here?”

“Uh, Wendy usually sleeps at his boyfriends.” You answered while searching a show to watch on netflix.

You decided to lay your head on his shoulder and he decided to place his on top of yours. You decided on watching Twilight again and he groaned making you poke fun at him.

“Again? We’ve watch this like a million times!” He expressed his annoyance.

“And? It’s good so shut it.”

The movie began, it was making him sleepy. He could tell you the whole scrip even in his sleep. That’s so many times you’ve made him watch it with you.

“Are you tired?” You asked and took your head off his shoulder to look at him.

“Yeah, I was busy so I forgot about the essay Ms. Kang gave us, I finished it up in one night.”

His ‘busy’ meant going with you to this art exposition about candy in which they were selling a giant gummy bear, he got you the yellow one and he couldn’t forget they way your face lit up with happiness when he gave it to you after a few days.

“Why don’t you sleep here? You can have my bed and I’ll sleep in Wendy’s”

He nodded at your proposal and sighed. Too tired to even say anything. He was about to continue watching the movie but he couldn’t keep his eyes off your lips. Shinning bright because of the grenade chapstick he gifted you the other day.

The conversation he had with the boys kept on replaying on his mind.

Fuck it.

He pressed his lips against yours. You let out a tiny gasp in surprise but soon after decided to relax.

You tilted your head to the side so you could return his kiss while placing your hand on his cheek. It was a quick kiss but the softness and love was there, and it made you feel for the very first time, full of love.

“I’m in love with you.” He said in a whisper.

You caressed his skin with your fingers, admiring his features under the artificial light that came from the TV.

“I—“

You couldn’t think straight. Too in love with the idea of love. So instead of saying anything, you took him by the back of his neck and drew him close to you, reconnecting your lips with his.

“Be mine.”

————

The boys couldn’t believe their eyes.

“W-What? W-When?” Lucas stuttered.

“Wow, he finally made a move.” Hendery said while sipping on his coca-cola.

A few tables away from them, you and Kun were eating a small cake, feeding each other and sharing sweet kisses.

“Woo! Go Y/N! Go Kun!” Ten shouted to make them feel embarrassed.

You tried to hide your face in your boyfriend’s chest and stuck out your hand with direction towards Ten, folding your fingers except for the middle one.

Kun laughed at this antics and pressed a peck on the crown of your head.

He also was in love with the idea of love.

[2dmenenthusiast]

Fire's Cool, Revenge is Better

Aizawa x Villain Reader, Dabi x Villain Reader

Listen I know I write for Aizawa a lot but I just love him :( But there's some Dabi in here to add a lil somethin somethin. ALSO I kinda kept this open in case ya'll wanted a part 2? There's no guarantees, but if enough people want it I might consider it

Summary: Meeting Shouta on rooftops was always fun and games until he thinks you're going to set him on fire.

Word count: 2.9K

Warnings/Other Info: Swearing, sexual themes, very small mention of assault, age gap, reader used to be his student but that was years ago and the reader is an adult in this so don't worry lmao, reader is kept gender-neutral, reader's quirk is spontaneous combustion (they can set things on fire just by looking at it)

This fic is intended for adult audiences, so minors DNI

The breeze felt good against your face, eyes gazing at the night sky as you sat on the edge of the roof of some random corporate building you couldn’t remember the name of. You briefly looked down at the street below, watching pedestrians walk along the sidewalk as cars drove by, and you idly swung your feet as you rummaged around in your jacket pocket before pulling out a pack of cigarettes. The sound of traffic at night was always relaxing to you, having lived in the city most of your life. You didn’t know if you’d ever be able to sleep without the distant noise of a car honking. The idea was honestly kind of unsettling, and you thought maybe a part of you liked it because the bustling of the city was comparable to the constant racing of your thoughts.

Letting out a huff, you checked the time on your phone as you placed a cigarette between your lips, looking at the end of it and feeling a slight pressure behind your eyes before it suddenly lit up and you took a drag. He’d be here any minute now, having memorized the schedule for his patrol. You’d been thinking about what you should say to him when you finally saw him but realized there was no point. There was no “preparing” when it came to Shouta Aizawa. You knew whatever you wanted to say would be thrown right out the window when you saw his piercing gaze, so you decided you’d just wing it. Not like that was unusual for you. You’ve been winging it most of your adult life, purely acting on impulse.

You heard a soft rustling behind you, smirking as you knew exactly who it was by how quiet they were. If you hadn’t committed his habits to memory, you probably wouldn’t have heard him. You heard him take a few steps towards you before suddenly stopping, and you let out a soft chuckle as you took another drag from the white stick, blowing the smoke into the air and watching it slowly fade.

“Took you long enough. Almost thought you wouldn’t show,” you said, a playful lilt to your voice as you stood and turned to face the erasure hero.

The city lights illuminated his shocked expression, eyes slightly widened as he took you in before his gaze narrowed.

“Y/n… what are you doing here?” he asked, the low timbre of his voice sending a pleasant feeling up your spine.

You shrugged, that familiar mischievous look in your eyes as you swiveled on the heel of your boot and began to pace. “Oh you know, just thought I’d get some fresh air, get a good look at all the pretty lights.” You paused, eyes hooded and a smirk tugging at your lips as you glanced over at Shouta. “Meet up with a certain hero.”

He audibly sighed, clearly not interested in whatever game you were playing, and you couldn’t help the grin that spread over your face. You didn’t meet up like this often, but when you did, it was always fun getting underneath his skin. It had been almost a year since you saw him last, and you swore he always looked different when you would see him. Maybe it was the circles under his eyes getting darker, or the new scar he acquired between visits, but you knew none of it mattered. This was still Shouta, a man you grew close to during your years at UA. Though, it all seemed like a distant memory now.

“So, how’ve you been, Sho? Still catching bad guys and putting ‘em behind bars and all that?”

“I have half the mind to do the same to you.”

“Oh, we both know you wouldn’t. You like me too much to see me locked up,” you said, taking a few steps closer to him as he stared at you with a pointed look. “You know, it wouldn’t kill you to smile when you’re around me. You don’t always have to be so stoic and brooding.”

“What reason do I have to smile when being around you always gives me a headache?” he said, voice void of any emotion as you winced and placed a hand on your chest.

“Ouch, Sho. That actually kinda stung. I thought my presence was quite enjoyable.”

“You need to stop this, y/n.”

You raised an eyebrow, only a foot of distance between you now as you reached forward and lightly tugged at his capture weapon, feeling the fabric between your fingers before he swatted your hand away.

“Stop what? My general villain tomfoolery or annoying you?”

“Both. We both know you’re better than this.”

“Am I?”

You looked at him for a moment before letting out a scoff and taking a step back, shifting your gaze from him as you took one last drag from your cigarette. Throwing it on the ground, you stomped on it with the toe of your boot and turned to move back to the edge of the building, arms crossing over your chest.

“Fuck, hate it when you make me think about all this dumb, sappy shit. Can never let me have my fun, huh?” you huffed, tongue poking the inside of your cheek. “‘You’re better than this,’ fucking christ. If I had a damn dime for every time I heard that I’d be fuckin’ rich.”

You heard him sigh again. “Y/n-”

“Don’t ‘y/n’ me!” you yelled, spinning around as you felt your anger flare up, and your eyes landed on a red-eyed Shouta, his black hair floating in the air.

You both just stood there, gazing at each other until his hair eventually floated back down to his shoulders and his eyes stopped glowing, and you let out a humorless chuckle that eventually turned into a full-blown laugh, clapping as you doubled over.

“Oh, Shouta!” you cheered, arms out at your sides as you backed up towards the edge of the roof. “How glad I am to know that you have so little trust in me. What? Thought that I didn’t have my anger under control?” You took another step, heels peeking over the edge. “Thought I was gonna blow something up?”

“Y/n, don’t,” Shouta said, fists clenched as he stepped towards you.

“Don’t what, Sho? Jump?” You looked over your shoulder down at the street below, knowing that a fall from this height would certainly kill you. “Why not, huh? One less villain for you to deal with, right? One less inconvenience for you.”

“You really think that little of yourself? You think I want this?”

“It’s what everyone else believes. What the media spews out daily without any fucking semblance of the truth. The League… those guys are messed up, but they’re still people. People that society abandoned when they gained some gross fetish for heroes. You’re just their pawn, you know? They don’t give a shit about you.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said through clenched teeth.

“Maybe not,” you shrugged. “Maybe I’m still that naive student in your class, dreaming of being a big-time hero one day just like All Might.”

You moved your foot back, feeling nothing but empty space underneath it as you slowly let yourself fall back, your heart jumping up in your throat and your stomach in your chest. Your other foot was almost off the edge until you felt something wrap around you and you were pulled into a sturdy chest, and you looked up to see Shouta staring intently at you. Something between concern and confusion in his eyes, or maybe a combination of both. The corners of your mouth twitched up into a sad smile, reaching up to lightly trace the scar under the hero’s eye with the tips of your fingers.

“You’re not like them, Sho. You’re so much better. You don’t let the bullshit and lies cloud your judgment. You’re just… you. In all of your cynical and stubborn ways.”

Your hand moved to his stubbled cheek, feeling your eyes begin to well up with tears. He looked so tired, constantly burdened with the responsibility of being a hero and a teacher, dealing with rambunctious kids all day. And there then there was you, that same student that ran away all those years ago, just giving him more trouble than he needed. Maybe it was time to end this little “game” once and for all.

“I suppose I’ve never made things easy for you, have I? Always causing trouble in school… guess that attitude carried into my adult life, huh?”

It almost made you cringe calling yourself an adult in front of him. You half expected him to laugh in your face and remind you that you were just a kid, but he remained silent, gaze softening when he noticed the moisture build up under your eyes, and he removed his capture weapon from around you.

“I… I just wish I could run away sometimes,” you whispered, both hands holding Shouta’s face as a tear rolled down your cheek. “There’s nothing here for me. Though, I don’t think I’d be able to when you’re here.”

Despite how confident you were earlier, you felt like crawling into a hole at that moment. Your confession made you sound like a stupid love-struck teenager, which is the last thing you wanted him to see you as. It didn’t really matter what he was thinking, though. The way he was looking at you already made you feel like he was judging you. You sniffled and pulled away, arms wrapping around yourself as Shouta reached out for you, your name on the tip of his tongue. You shook your head.

“Don’t, just… I know I sound dumb. And I know it was stupid of me to think that…”

You sighed, memories of being in his class flooding your mind. You weren’t always so troubled. You had a few friends you got along with, but other than that you usually remained quiet. That excluded your outbursts, though. Something or someone would set you off, making some off-hand comment about how you didn’t belong in UA, and you would just vibrate with so much rage that something nearby would suddenly burst into flames, and it only made them tease you more.

That was until Shouta took you under his wing. He began teaching you how to control your quirk and use defensive techniques that didn’t involve setting anything on fire. It was the first time in your life that you felt like somebody cared about you. You were on your way to becoming a great hero. That all changed when you saw how corrupt hero society really was. Your mother worked at a pro hero’s agency, working her damndest to put food on the table for your family until there was an incident at her work with her boss, and his pro hero friends covered it all up to protect him. You remember how upset you were, blowing up the tv when you saw his smug face on screen talking to the press. It got so bad you almost destroyed a whole city block. You ran away before the police could find you, packing a bag and promising your mother you’d avenge her before setting off on your own, leaving before you could finish the second half of your third year at UA. Then the League eventually found you and took you in. No, you weren’t interested in destroying heroes like Shigaraki and his crew, but you were determined to expose them. Uncover all of the dirty truths they had all kept hidden away from the media so that they could keep their perfect image and have their fans worship the ground they walk on. It all made you sick, getting so angry and upset that you could practically feel the vomit wanting to crawl up into your throat you would get so nauseous just thinking about it.

Despite your different goals and his hate for pretty much everyone, Dabi and you got along quite well, surprisingly. Maybe it was only because of the similarities of your quirks, but regardless, you were glad to have a companion. While UA taught you how to control your quirk, Dabi helped you unleash it, realize the full potential of your powers, and your face would glow with wonder and exhilaration as you set the world ablaze. You ended up kissing him one night, so full of adrenaline and desperate for some sort of outlet for all of it that you found your lips firmly planted on his, and he was more than okay with it, gripping you tightly against him as he pried your lips open with his eager tongue.

You thought that’d be the end of your little transgression, but you were wrong. On more than one occasion, one of you would end up falling into the other’s bed, and you would be nothing more than a pair of tangled limbs and desperate touches as you both tried to feel something. You didn’t really view each other romantically, simply using each other when you needed a release. But despite that, you thought Dabi was beautiful. He would laugh whenever you told him that, saying you were too fucked out to think properly. But you meant it. Every time. Whenever you’d lay your head on his bare chest and lightly trace the edges of his scars, muttering those simple words into the air, and they would weigh heavy on him. You didn’t know, but he’d think about those words well after you’d retreat to your own room, puffing on a cigarette and trying to banish every and any thought of you. Besides, he knew your heart belonged to someone else.

You looked up at the sky, feeling Shouta’s gaze still on you before meeting his eyes with a smile, but there was no joy behind it. “I suppose you think I’m pretty pathetic, huh?”

“I think you’re troubled, y/n,” Shouta said, taking a step towards you. “I think you need help. Guidance.”

“There is no helping me, Shouta,” you muttered. “I don’t think I can believe in being a hero anymore after what happened.”

“I’m not asking you to. But believe in me. Believe that I want the best for you.”

His words made you pause, swallowing the lump in your throat as you shook your head. “I do believe in you… I just don’t believe in the society you represent.”

Shouta sighed, lips pressed tightly together as he regarded you with an almost unreadable expression, but you knew what that look was. It wasn’t disappointment, but regret.

“It wasn’t your fault, Sho. You were the only one who was ever really there for me, and you were the only person who went looking for me when I ran away. You cared about me. And that’s the only thing I could ever ask for. I know you might think that you failed me, but you helped me. You taught me how to control my abilities,” you paused, letting out a short breath. “but someone taught me how to use them. And until people know the truth… I won’t stop.”

Shouta looked like he wanted to say something when you heard a shout from below, walking towards the edge of the roof and seeing the League waiting for you on the sidewalk. Toga waved excitedly when she saw your face, and you smiled and shook your head before going back over to the older man. You reached forward hesitantly, hand brushing over his chest before bracing yourself against him as you leaned forward and pressed your lips to the corner of his mouth. When you pulled away, you swore you might’ve just given everything up for him at that moment. He looked so vulnerable, so open like you could reach right into his chest and rip his heart out and he wouldn’t care. But with another distant shout of your name, you were snapped out of your reverie and you moved away from him.

“Don’t come looking for me, Sho, and don’t try to stop me either. I don’t wanna hurt you, but if you get in my way, you’ll leave me no choice,” you said, giving the hero one last look as you turned to walk away, but stopped when you heard him call out your name. You glanced back at him, a brow raised in question.

“You’re making a mistake. This won’t change what happened.”

You hummed, slightly nodding as you smiled bitterly. “You’re right. But maybe I can stop it from happening to other people.”

Sparing him one last look, you took a deep breath and jumped from the roof. The ground rushed to meet you as the wind hit your face, and before you could hit the pavement, a pair of arms caught you and gently placed you on the ground. You looked into those electric blue eyes, letting out a small hum as you lightly punched Dabi’s shoulder.

“Thanks, sailor,” you said with a wink, and you playfully bumped your elbow against Shigaraki as you walked between the two men.

“So, how’d it go with lover boy?” Dabi asked, his hands shoved into his pockets, and a bitter taste filled your mouth as you thought about the mentioned hero.

“I don’t think we’ll be seeing him again anytime soon.”

If Dabi saw the way your jaw clenched or the flash of anguish in your eyes, he didn’t say anything, just simply threw an arm around your shoulders and let you stumble into his side. You didn’t know when or if you’d ever see Shouta again. But if you did, you wanted him to give you everything he got.

[bisexualsforprompto]

I Wish It Was You

My take on the angsty MariBart MLB x YJ idea

Tw: death

Thank @ethelphantom and @persephonebutkore for this lmao (plus the Maribat discord server)

—————

“Run! We can still stop this!” Marinette cried to Adrien, who was wide eyed with fear.

“M-Marinette.” Adrien crumpled to the ground.

“What?!” Marinette shrieked. Bart was on Adrien’s side in an instance. “Adrien what happened?! Don’t tell me you got-“

“I got hit.” Adrien said before coughing up a small spurt of blood. He motioned to a hole in his leather Chat Noir armor that was covered in blood, “I-I didn’t tell you before. I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to slow down for me.”

“You dumb cat!” Marinette yelled as she cupped his head between her hands, “You're gonna be fine okay?! We’ll go back to the past and get a doctor for you.”

“Whatever you say Bugaboo.”

Marinette didn’t yell at him for the nickname. She smiled softly and picked him up in her arms.

“Mari?” He hacked. “B-Bart?”

Bart ran quickly to Adrien and placed his hand in Adrien’s, “You’re gonna be fine. I promise. We’ll get there, it’ll be crash.”

In the distance an explosion went off, causing the ground to shake violently.

Adrien nodded, “Mari, here.” He took off his ring in an instant.

“Adrien, no.” Marinette said firmly, shoving the ring back to him.

“Please, take it. The Reach already has the miracle box. If you only have the Ladybug and fox miraculous you won’t be able to do much.”

“Stop talking like you’re not coming with us. Let’s go to the time machine now, I’ll carry you.”

Adrien gave her a knowing smile. Still detransformed, he slipped a small item into her yo-yo before she noticed. Marinette hiked him up bridal style and yo-yoed off. Bart ran behind her.

It didn’t take long to reach the machine, and they were already so close that Marinette and Bart had newfound determination that moved them faster.

Bart shoved the door to the machine open with reckless abandon. Marinette was just about to place Adrien in when-

“Hero scum.” Scoffed a voice, a familiar one at that. Marinette turned around to see Blue Beetle.

“Get in.” Marinette said, gritting her teeth, as she pushed Adrien into the machine. Bart and Marinette stood in between the machine and Blue Beetle.

“Protecting your friend. How sweet.” Blue laughed, “Too bad you’ll all die anyway.”

“No!” Adrien exclaimed just as the Blue Beetle began to fire up his weapon. With the last remaining strength he had Adrien pushed out of the machine, shoved Marinette and Bart in while they were distracted by Beetle, and shut the door.

“ADRIEN!” Marinette screamed. Adrien looked back at her with a small smile.

“Now is not the time to be a hero!” Bart sobbed as he pounded onto the door of the time machine, trying to get it open.

“I trust you two to bring me back.” Adrien said with a wink. He faced back to Blue Beetle.

“How touching.” Blue said, shedding a mock tear.

Then he fired.

Marinette gagged as she saw Adrien being completely blown to bits. She felt tears streaming down her face as Adrien fell to his knees and to the ground.

Dead.

“No! No! No!” Bart yelled pounding on the door again. The machine fired up, likely started by Adrien before he left it.

“Adrien.” Marinette sobbed into her hands.

They sat in stunned silence for a while, neither dared to say anything. They just cried silently, not willing to seek comfort from the other.

“He’s not dead.” Bart whispered. Marinette glared at him. “I mean...we can bring him back.”

“I’ll bring him back. This is my responsibility, you’re not doing anything.” Marinette hissed with searing anger, “It should’ve-“

“Don’t you start with that ‘it should’ve been me’ bullshit, Marinette! You always make it about you!”

“It shouldn’t have been me!” Marinette yelled, shoving a finger onto Bart’s chest, “It should’ve been you.”

“What?” Bart depanned.

“You and I both know that hit Adrien took was meant for you.”

Bart sat in shock. His face hardened, “Fuck you Marinette. The only reason I ever agreed to go with you was because of Adrien.”

“Likewise.”

They glared at each other.

Bart felt his anger flare up again, “I can’t believe-“

“I wish it was you.” Marinette chuckled. Then tears started falling down her face, “I wish it was you instead of him.”

“Then the feeling is mutual.” Bart muttered, “I never wanted you here.”

“Good.” Marinette said indignantly, “I’m saving Adrien. Sticking to my plan. Don’t help me, I can do it on my own.”

“Are you kidding?! No! I’m just as much a part of this as-“

Marinette and Bart’s argument was interrupted by the machine as it crashed into the training room of a certain mountain.

Marinette pushed open the door and jumped out, she tried to slam the door on Bart and trap him, but he was too fast.

“What is your problem?!” He yelled, sweeping her legs out from under her.

“My problem is you!” Laying in the cold metal floor she used her yo-yo and squeezed it around his legs to send him flying to the floor like her. “The so-called fastest man alive couldn’t even save the one person who he needed to!”

Bart was on his feet in an instant, as was Marinette, “Like you’re any better Bugaboo.” He spat.

“Don’t you dare call me that!” Marinette screamed as she sent a roundhouse kick aimed straight for his face.

Bart grabbed her leg before it could meet its target and pushed her, face first, to the ground.

Wiping the blood from her mouth, Marinette stood up, “Lucky charm.”

A spotted red and black knife fell into her hands. She laughed, “At least I know what to do with this one. And there are many ways to skin a speedster.”

“That’s enough!” A new man boomed as he pulled Marinette away and sent her flying into the wall. A blur of red and yellow did the same to Bart.

Marinette groaned, then she saw Superboy, who had thrown her, and Artemis, who was holding her bow in front of Marinette’s face.

“Talk.” Artemis said, narrowing her eyes, “Who are you?!”

“My name is Ladybug.” She said calmly, “I’m not here to hurt you, I’m here because in the future a catastrophic event causes the Reach to take over Earth. Your team and the Justice League fail.”

Artemis was taken aback as she withdrew the arrow from her boy. Superboy narrowed his eyes and cracked his knuckles, “Why were you fighting Kid Flash junior over there then? And how are we supposed to trust you.”

“I was fighting Impulse because of some differences that came between us while we got here.” Marinette stated, trying to keep Adrien’s lifeless eyes out of her mind, “And you can trust me. I’m willing to take any tests you want to perform on me.”

“Good.” Nightwing said, appearing from the shadows, “In the meantime we have some questions for you and Impulse.”

“You’re taking this better than I expected.” Marinette noted.

“Oh, no.” Superboy said, “We’re all furious, but we also want to get to the bottom of this. And make sure you’re who you say you are.”

Kid Flash ran over to join Superboy, Artemis and Nightwing, “The kid calls himself Impulse. Says the little one here is Ladybug.”

“Matches what she said.”

“He says he won’t talk to her though.” Kid Flash continued.

“Of course he did.” Marinette scoffed, “I think I’ll do the same.”

The team shared a look.

“Okay.” Nightwing said, “Let’s get started then.”

[feistypaants-archived]

Between The Pipes [Chapter 7]

Rating: M Words: 2060 Pairing: Kristanna Summary: When a new owner takes over the Arendelle Ice Breakers, Kristoff isn’t sure about his future with the team. That is, until a PR nightmare throws the newest member of the media team, who also just so happens to be the daughter of the new owner, right into his arms. Kristoff and Anna can’t even stand the interviews they have to do together… how on earth are they going to fix this mess? Hockey!AU.

[Chapter Index]

Where To Read: [AO3]

Notes: hopefully kristoff is a bit more sympathetic in this one lmao. He was a massive dick in the last chapter, but he just is dumb and doesn’t know how to handle himself. Sooooo anyway. :^) 

Enjoy!

Why couldn’t he stop doing that?

Kristoff sat for almost two hours, wondering if she would come back, and not wanting to be the dick who left her stranded if she did. He figured it was the least he could do, considering how he spoke to her. 

Why couldn’t he stop doing that?

It wasn’t like she had done anything, and he had genuinely gone into this lunch with the mindset to be nice . But he didn’t expect her to start trying to get to know him or put him on the spot. He felt his whole body tense with the desire to stay hidden, stay secretive, to make sure that she knew as little about him as possible. Something deep inside of him was wailing to get out and open up. He let something slip. He mentioned his father . The only person who knew about his father was Sven. 

Sven and his real parents. The ones who took him in when his father was too busy playing hockey to care about his young son.

He wasn’t ready for her to know about it. He wasn’t ready for the media to know about it.

He wasn’t ready for the media to know that he was the son of Leif Sørensen, a powerful defenseman in the Super League who was more focused on making it to the NHL than caring about his family. Leif Sørensen, who wanted nothing more than to be the best player in the world and didn’t care when his wife left him and his newborn baby. Leif Sørensen, who would leave his son alone for weeks on end and didn’t even seem to mind when his child got taken away and was sent to live with a new family.

Leif Sørensen, who died young from a heart attack, who never made it where he wanted to, who practically sighed with relief when his son was adopted officially and moved to America.

Kristoff wished every day that his father could see him now - wished that his father knew that his son accomplished what he couldn’t.

But he didn’t want anyone else to know about it.

So when he slipped, mentioned the tiniest little thing about it, he panicked. He threw on the worst attitude he could muster and shut her down. 

But she kept poking at him, wiggling her way into the tiniest crack he had shown, getting deeper and deeper under his skin. That was when he had to shut it down. He had learned from the best how to drive people away. As much as it panicked him, it helped that she did what he suspected she would and threatened to tell her father about it.

Spoiled little rich girl.

He sighed and finally stood, checking how much Anna had left and decided it was only right to try and give it back to her. It wasn’t her fault that this went to shit.

Sven was going to have his head.

—

“What the hell is wrong with you!?”

Kristoff tried his best not to wince when Sven actually punched him in the arm. He deserved it, he knew, and just let Sven continue on his rampage. His cheeks were red, brows low and eyes narrowed as he practically bared his teeth, ready to attack. “She was just trying to get to know you, was just trying to be nice and what did you do? You’re a complete asshole .” 

Sven leaned back, arms crossed over his chest as Kristoff tensed under his glare. He mumbled out something that he knew his captain wouldn’t hear, and grimaced when he felt Sven’s fist collide with his shoulder again. “I’m sorry!”

“No use in telling me that.”

“Look! She…” Kristoff threw his arms above his head with a groan and slumped further. “Something about her makes my stupid head want to open up and I can’t , okay? I’m not…”

Sven softened for just a moment. Kristoff struggled to find his words, mumbling a few non-starts before he finally came up with something he knew would convey all that Sven needed to know.

“She got me to mention my dad. No one knows about my dad.”

“ Dude ,” Sven whined, clapping his hands on top of the slightly taller man’s shoulders. “Isn’t that a sign, though? Your subconscious is literally screaming at you to let her in.”

“I don’t know her… I don’t trust her.”

A scoff, a quiet “you’re an idiot,” and then his hand was practically cupping Kristoff’s cheek, an action he wasn’t sure he was so comfortable with. Then he patted it hard enough to almost be classified as a smack, and Kristoff felt himself relax.

“You can’t get to know her if you keep treating her like this.”

Why was Sven always right?

He swore that he’d apologize the next time he saw her. Sven nodded as if it were good enough, and left him alone. 

Unfortunately, Anna hadn’t shown up to the rink in a few days, and Kristoff could feel the panic rising in his chest like acid with every passing moment. Had he been bad enough that she quit? Or, worse, was she going back to see her father and make him do something about the disrespectful goalie? She had threatened it… but was she really that kind of person?

It would be easier, he thought, if she were. 

He went through the practices, jumping at every person or sound that he thought could possibly be her, frowning when she didn’t come around the corner. He wanted to apologize, genuinely, but her not showing up was making that rather difficult .

But it was a Monday and it was still early, and he hoped that maybe there was a chance of her still showing today. He jumped at the puck that hit the glass behind him, and looked up just in time to see Mattias stalking towards the ice. 

“Bjorgman, my office, please.”

Oh god damn it fucking shit no.

—

Coach wasn’t patient today, so Kristoff just stripped off his padding and jersey before heading to the office. Walking around in compression shorts and a tee-shirt weren’t out of the ordinary, so he hurried onward and hoped it was good enough. He had gotten a low chorus of Oooo ’s as he skated off the ice, and when Coach silenced them with a loud bark of a shut up and practice , Kristoff knew it was serious. 

So he moved quickly, padding down the halls, and frowned when he heard multiple voices coming through the closed door. Knocking tentatively, Kristoff pushed open the door and felt his heart start beating faster when he saw a familiar head of red hair, neatly arranged into two braids, her cheeks red and expression shameful.

She fucking didn’t.

“Kristoff,” another voice said, pulling his attention away from her. Gerda, he thought he remembered her name being, the head of Public Relationships and Media, was standing in front of him, her hand extended. When he shook it, she gestured at the empty chair beside Anna and smiled. “Please, sit.”

He felt like a school kid again, getting scolded for cheating off an exam. 

Kristoff forgot his size for a moment and frowned when Anna’s arm retreated to her lap after his own brushed against it. Was she really that repulsed by him? Was he really that terrible of a person that just his arm brushing against hers made her recoil like that? 

There was an unfamiliar itch on the back of his neck, one he rolled his head to try and get rid of, frustration growing as it just got worse and worse . “What’s going on?” He started, lifting a hand to scratch at the back of his head. It didn’t help.

Mattias sat at his desk as Gerda lowered herself to perch on the edge, arms crossing over her chest. 

Now he really felt like a school kid again. Come on.

“I’m sorry, did…” her voice was meek as her eyes glanced to him for just a second before focusing on the gray carpet beneath their feet. “Is something wrong?”

Gerda smiled and shook her head, and Kristoff almost laughed as he and Anna breathed out a simultaneous sigh of relief. This still didn’t make sense, though. He leaned forward, bracing one hand on his knee as he did, elbow popping out to the side. “So what’s going on, then?”

“Well.” Mattias’ voice was powerful as ever, as he leaned forward on his arms and sighed. “Kristoff… It’s come to my attention that… you haven’t been doing so well with the media side of things over these last couple of seasons.”

What ?

“We’d really like it if you could make an effort to stick around for interviews, and show up to all of the charity events…” He shrugged. “And the fan events.”

Kristoff stiffened, frowning deeply. “I’m here to play hockey , coach.”

Mattias gave him a nod, but shrugged. “Well, unfortunately… part of being in the NHL is giving back, and part of being on this team , is participating in these events.”

He was balking now, his eyes wide and his hands gripping the edge of the desk as he leaned forward. “Come on .”

“This is non-negotiable, Bjorgman.”

He threw himself back into the chair with a groan, arms crossing tightly over his chest. He was too busy pouting to notice Anna sit further forward in her own seat, hand meekly raised in the air. 

“So… why am I here?”

Gerda dropped her hands into her lap with a nod. “We’d like you to be the primary reporter in charge of covering and interviewing him. 

And, in sync, “ What ?”

She let out a soft laugh and sat up straighter. “Anna, I’ve been impressed with how much effort you’ve put into just your first two weeks, and I’d like for you to have a chance to make a name for yourself. Richard quit, and we need an on-the-ice interviewer… so I would like for you to give it a try.” 

Kristoff tried not to be distracted by the movement of her throat as she swallowed, and turned his attention back to the two sitting in front of them. “There’s no wiggle room here?”

Mattias shook his head. “None. You do this, or you’re benched.”

Shit.

Anna still seemed to be processing the information when they were excused, and Kristoff had to slow down his steps to stay in stride with her. “Hey,” he started, trying not to laugh when she jumped as if she hadn’t even noticed he was walking beside her. “I…”

She stopped, looking up at him with those pretty blue eyes, and Kristoff felt his face flush. “I wanted to apologize for the other day.”

He saw a change in her, when she stopped being overwhelmed by the news and was back to hating his guts. Anna crossed her arms and looked up and down his body, her hip cocking to the side. “Go ahead.”

“What?”

“Apologize.”

Kristoff’s eyebrows furrowed, his shoulders rising with confusion as he continued to stare her down. “I did .”

“No,” she dragged out, her lips forming a perfect o as she leaned slightly forward. “You said you wanted to apologize.”

“Isn’t that the same thing?”

“No!” Her arms dropped to her sides, tense and frustrated as she turned and continued to walk off. “You’re unbelievable!”

He was genuinely confused, tripping over his feet as he spun quickly to keep up with her long, angry strides. “Okay, okay! I’m sorry!” She stopped suddenly and he almost ran her over as he did his best to halt his steps. Kristoff took in a deep breath, blowing it out in one slow sigh. “I’m sorry.”

“All right.” Her voice was softer now, as if that was all he had to do to make her give him another chance. She looked down at her feet, suddenly bashful as he towered over her, arms braced on his hips. “Well,” she risked a glance up at him and scrunched her lips to one side. “If we’re going to have to work together, we… should probably figure out how to be civil.”

Kristoff felt a weight lift from his chest as he nodded. 

“I can be civil.”

She laughed, and he flushed again. Even her laugh was pretty. 

“I doubt it, but I guess we should give it a try.”

[bnhavibes]

Y/n goes out on a late-night run to get out some nervous energy and ends up running longer than expected. Since their still not tired they decided to call their best friend Shinso to ask if they can come over for a bit. You can decide from there, thank you b.

announcements!!

requests can take a while, i’ve decided to start writing a fic 🥰 but i haven’t chose who to pair with my OC so im going to have you vote in my asks!(or dm me on discord if u want to make certain requests too!

do you want reader insert with (y/n) or should we just name the OC? (side note: whats an alluring name?) <answer a for (y/n), b for (your suggestion).

should it be bxg, bxgxb, or gxgxb? <answer a, b or c>

who would you like to see in this pairing(s)? <answer a, Katsuki Bakugou, b, Shouto Todoroki, c, Izuku Midoriya, d, Ejirou Kirishima, e, Denki Kaminari, f, Momo Yayaorozu, g, Jirou Kyouka, h, Hitoshi Shinsou, i, League of Villains (insert up to 2 members unless you’ve picked a student or hero), j, any other options besides Endeavor, Aayoma, Tokoyami, Asui, Shigaraki, and anybody who’s personality i cannot portray lmfao)

Shinsou, Hitoshi x Reader

(request)

(NSFW) warning!

cussing, some heavy makeouts with descriptive characteristics

not actual penetration

but enough steam to keep it: moisy

College aged upUA! (so basically ua is a college lmao)

18+

this one is gonna be long since i pushed it off so far sorry bb😭

“Hey, you up?”

you: (typing) So I’ve been running for way longer than I thought, stuck thinking and overthinking about my life and I found myself by your apartment and wanted to stop by to get some advice? I know it’s pretty late but you’re always saying if you need me at 2am |

“Fuck, no, I can’t say that!” You growl in frustration before erasing the dumb text. Twiddling your thumbs above the screen as your hands laced the back of your device, you pace around, frantic about how you were gonna tell your old best friend that you were outside his apartment and desperately freezing. (it was like the middle of the night, and yet you were out in a crossed-back tank top, with a windbreaker and loose running shorts.

You and Shinsou have known each other for as long as you remember. You weren’t on good terms for a while; The first time he announced that he got his Quirk, you were out sick, and all of the kids in your class teased and picked on him. He essentially blamed you for not being there and defending him, but you guys didn’t see each other between the end of middle school and middle of high school. Now that you both go to UA, and are at the mercy of pros, you have to deal with working together for the sake of the citizens (even if you have bad blood between you). But you didn’t expect him to be so relieved when he saw you at school. And the two of you got along so well, it was like he was never even mad at you. He did bring it up, once, but he has only ever been nothing but kind to you when you started studying with him.

Then you started hanging out with him.

More and more.

More boundaries being pushed.

More times you’re together than not.

More things to study for? Hah, typical.

Then you’re having sleep overs.

Where you sleep in his bed.

...And he spoons you.

..........Weird.

‘Thats weird, right?’ You think to yourself the morning after. Nobody should be in the same bed with other people if they’re not together right? Shouldn’t it feel weird that you went to bed with another adult? That’s just your friend?

you: Are we just frien—

You stop yourself before even finishing that idiotic question, groaning in frustration. “What the hell do I say to him?” You tell your device more than yourself, at this point, just looking for answers.

New Message: Shinsou

Your eyes bulge out of your head and your hands almost drop your phone at the sudden vibration in your hand.

Shinsou: yeah, im just up doing dumb shit on my computer anyways

you: you mean like beating off? ewwww tmi Shinsou Hitoshi 🥴

Shinsou: fuck you (Y/f&l/N) 😂

Shinsou: if you want me to beat off before you get here, i can tho

you: i mean you’ll have enough time do it, i just so happen to be walking in to your apartment complex 😂😉

You giggle as you head up the stairs to his small student apartment, knowing the way all too well by memory.

Shinsou: wtf? 🤨 why were you all the way over here.

you: i couldn’t sleep, so i decided to go jogging

you: turns out i was drugged

you: kidnapped

you: and returned nearby because i kept annoying the shit out of the dudes

Shinsou: figures. 💀

Shinsou: i would’ve dropped you off at the loony bin tho

Shinsou: we’d probably both have to sign in tbh😂😂

you: 😒 come open the door ya punk.

The warm smell of freshly cooked— or reheated— pizza filled your nostrils as the door was opened for you. Stepping in and removing your shoes, you glance around to see if anyone else was over.

“Sorry, I know I said I would clean it.” He mumbles, thinking you were looking at the mess of a living area he made this morning. (because building forts is cool, okay?)

“No, you’re good,” You chuckle as you remove your jacket, “it IS your house anyways. Not like i can tell you what to do.”

A pregnant pause filled the air before you realized he had went and disappeared to his room and you were still by the door. Shaking your head at yourself, you follow him, building up courage to confront last night’s cuddle thing.

When you got to his room, however, he had laid out a towel on his bed and was looking through his closet. You dropped your shoes and looked around to seethat his shower was running, and there was the hair brush you lost on his desk (with a sticky note that said ‘Text (y/n) you found it. Reminder #251’). There was still rummaging behind you when you look at him in the reflection of his computer.

When he pulls out a shirt of his that you always compliment him in.

And a pair of exercise shorts that he hadn’t worn yet.

You blush when you realize he wants you to shower in his bathroom.

And then put his clothes on.

“Hit—Hitoshi-san?” You questioningly squeak, squeezing your eyes shut once you hear how cringey it sounded to be calling him by his last name again.

He notices the change, though, blinking softly at you with a shirt in hand. “I—... I just thought you, m-maybe wanted to shower. Cause you’re sweaty and stuff. Plus you might be able to fall asleep better.” He defended himself, putting his hands up.

“N-No, I know, I just...” You face him, avoiding his gaze. “I have to.. um...” You couldn’t do it. You were backing out.

“Tell me, what’s on your mind? I’m here if you need to talk.” He says, trying to catch your eyes as he steps toward you.

“Hito-sssh-hitt. Ugh! Why is it so hard to tell you!?” You curse your tongue for letting you sputter so embarrassingly in front of your best friend. You pace toward Shinsou, but turn back, groaning as you face palm repeatedly.

“You’re acting weird, (Y/N). Since when were you calling me by my last name, you know you can call me pretty much anything else. I swear if you say some dumb shit about another prank I’m gonna—

“Are we just friends or what?” You spat, slapping a hand over your mouth as soon as the words slipped out.

“What?”

The look on his face was so.... precious?

His eyes widened a little, mouth agape with loss, and shoulders cringing a bit at his sudden nerves. You removed your hand slowly but turned it into a fist as quick as it landed at your side.

“Y-You heard me. Are we just friends or, is there m-more... between us..” You trailed off, not noticing how close you’d gotten yourself when he was talking to you.

“More?” He asked, his voice seeming to be hung on to a thin string of hope. He inhales sharply before speaking softly:

“I— I thought... Well, to be honest these last few months with you have been awesome b—

“—But you don’t have feelings for me right?” You interrupted him, looking up into (what felt like to him) his soul.

So it was just you? You started to leave, his hesitation enough of an answer for you.

“No, I- Hey, wait!” He was confused, the poor boy, as to how you took his words. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“It’s okay, Hitoshi-san.” You say, smiling back at him with a hand on his bedroom door knob.

“S-Seriously! I— Uhm..” He stopped you from opening the door with his hand over yours, pushing the door closed all together when he tripped over a loose shoe and against your body.

You gasp at the sudden fall, but can’t help but worry about him.

“Are you okay?” You ask, helping him stand up straight. “Sorry about the shoe— Mmmph?”

He kissed you so softly, you’d think it was a ghost. His hands cupped around your head, fingers laced through your hair as they almost support your movements. Instinctively you’re kissing him back, letting his body tower over yours and press you harder against the wall. His lips were like soft pillows, and his tongue flicked at your lips, teeth, and tongue so well that you couldn’t help but pull him in closer and closer; the longsleeved sweatshirt he had on was bunching up from your grasps, and you could feel his skin just barely grazing your own. You’re subconsciously tracing designs on his sides with your fingers, slowly running them along the hem as it lifts up when the feeling of heat in your stomach (and face) brings you back to your realitive plain of existence.

You’re currently making out with your best friend.

And you can feel how much he likes it.

“Sh-Shinsou, I—I’m sweaty.” You say, pushing him back a little.

He raises an eyebrow at you. (is that really gonna stop him? shusoskfkdjd)

Then he’s back on your lips, picking your legs off the ground and pulling them around his hips; pressing you back into the wall and grinding himself so deliciously against you. Soft moans escape your lips as his own travel to your neck, hands creeping up your shirt this time. Instead of touching you, however, he only lightly grazes your skin with the lads of his fingers up your torso until hes able to lift your shirt off (with help from you of course). Once it’s off, he’s back at your neck, leaving sloppy kisses before grabbing you by the ass and walking to his bathroom.

He set you down on the sink counter, ridding himself of his shirt and lowering himself down to his knees; His hands at your hips, fingers teasingly looping the elastic waistband of your shorts. He looks up at you with those eyes— The ones that ignite the flame in your core, those piercing, desperate eyes. He’s leaning his head into your thigh as he looks up at you, a smile smirk shows that your reaction to his wherebouts must be entertaining to him. You can feel your core tremble as he lays kisses on your legs, occasionally taking a nice long drag of his tongue along the sensitive skin of your inner thighs and stopping at the hem of your shorts. Letting a tiny gasp slip, you place your hands on his to stop him. He looks up at you for a second, but his worries wash away when he sees your hardened nipples and flush skin.

“You look so cute like this.” His voice breaks the tension in the air before he kisses your thighs again. “So flustered and confused.” He bites down gently on your skin, causing you to stifle a moan. He sucks slowly, his teeth just grazing you enough to leave a mark, but not enough to make it hurt. You gasp when his head moves to your centre, the heat of his exhales sending chills up your spine.

“You’re just... so naughty, aren’t you (Y/N)?” He whispers onto the thin cloth before laying his head back down on your leg, pulling your shorts down painfully slow. “You’re absolutely soaked, huh? I can smell you from here.” He looks at you, cueing you to lift your legs up, pulling your shorts off completely before returning to his position between your legs.

“No panties, huh?” He chuckles, scooting you to the edge of the counter by your hips. “You’re so god damn beautiful.” He whispers on your lips, your mouth just slacked enough for him to take advantage of, slipping his tongue straight past your teeth and directly brushing against your tongue. You feel yourself pooling over the counter, soaking against his boxers when he starts to take them off.

“Tell me what you wanna do.” He says against your collarbone, fingers still looped around the edges of his boxers.

“I, I need to sh-shower.” You squeak.

“You’re so fucking cute,” He says after chuckling. “I meant me, kitten, now do you want me or not?”

“Y-Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“I — I want you, Shinsou. I want all of you.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, (Y/N).”

“I’m not, I promise— but, ugh, can you just fuck me already?”

The boldness of your words cracks a shit eating grin you only knew from that class 1-A asshat onto Shinsou’s face.

“Get in the fucking shower then.”

[teatitty]

here’s some of my HalBarry HC’s both as separate people and as a ship~~

Bartholomew is one of the shortest JL members. Hal constantly teases him over this and it’s normal to see him using Bar’s head as an armrest. He gets elbowed in the gut a lot. Flash doesn’t have abs like most other JL members: given how high his metabolism is and the fact that most of his time is spent running he has a very sleek and lean build though it’s widely accepted (for obvious reasons) that he has the best thighs in the League. He’s also genderfluid! The only real way to tell when to use female pronouns is during the times she wears a bright red lipstick. On days that Flash presents herself as a woman she doesn’t go by the nickname “Barry” and instead uses “Bea/Bee”. 

Hal has a darker skin tone, partly from tanning and partly from his mixed-race background. He doesn’t burn easily, if at all, which is something Barry absolutely despises him for. He’s very flexible and used to be a gymnast in school. He likes to show off those skills whenever possible so it’s normal to see him doing stupid stunts while flying around. Great at flirting but if you genuinely show him affection he’ll get choked up and his voice will crack. Congrats he will now Die For You.

Barry actually needs glasses to see but wears contacts instead. Hal thinks this is adorable and tries to get Barry to wear glasses more often. Hal has the most scars because Barry’s fast healing doesn’t really leave any scars behind. The only one he has is the one he got from the accident that gave him his powers; basically he has Lichtenburg Scars all over his torso, branching out from his heart.

They invade eachother’s personal space a lot and most of the time don’t even realize they’re doing it. It’s gotten so bad that Oliver has an ongoing bet with Dinah that one day they’ll end up just sitting in eachothers laps at a meeting. IT TAKES YEARS OF DUMB PINING FOR THEM TO ACTUALLY CONFESS AND IT’S PROBABLY DURING THE HEAT OF BATTLE OR SOMETHING AND THEY BOTH GET REALLY EMBARRASSED ABOUT IT. Stupid dorks. 

Barry has a habit of taking on too many tasks at once and then forgetting to eat and sleep so whenever Hal is back on earth (or just. whenever they’re together in general) he makes sure to keep an eye on Barry’s health. Hal isn’t above physically forcing Barry to sleep by restraining him with his ring and then knocking him out lmao. 

Hal gave Barry his jacket once and his soul acended instantly. RIP Harold you fucking foolish bisexual. 

[didsomeonesayventus]

ESSAY TIME I love a ship please come hang out w/ me on this dinghy or like. dont because fates is awful and I can’t blame u for dodging that bullet but i just wanna scream because i love them and they’re the fixation rn so 321 GO

i cant blame anyone for not really seeing this because their support is. Ok. Its alright. Not amazing, it’s serviceable, better options are out there in fates I'll concede. Corrin has like. At least 3 other love interests who feel more canon LMAO but this isn’t about them

It's more from elsewhere in their characterization that really made me adore them and, as I mentioned in tags, a lot of this comes from how I write them which. Is largely filed under rp stuff right now but more ramble time on how i write them i guess dont forget to mark your free bingo space for throwing out large swaths of fates canon and writing.  Also we're scooting their canon support gently to the side because it’s ok it’s not the most offensive writing this nightmare scrap heap of canon has to offer but a massive missed opportunity.

PART 1- One (1) Corn, With a Side of Emotional Neglect

*makes vague gesture at Disney's Rapunzel* Corrin would have been so much better recieved if the devs just took some notes from you instead of writing such a flat character i swear.

Corrin in particular with how I write her is getting a pretty massive rework in the emotionally stable department because honestly I don’t believe she would be. like. She's not dumb, but she is naive, important distinction, and it ends up coloring her views a lot and I have a ramble on that over here on the inverse graph that is Corrin’s confidence but to dissect where her attitudes came from:

Her family was limited to visits, and she has been directly/implicitly blamed for this for roughly a decade and a half, at least a decade, by not being an insane king's definition of strong enough to be with them. Bad memory makes her frail, swordsmanship isn’t up to par, doesn’t seem to offer much else in terms of skills unlike Xander, a Certified Badass(tm), Magic-oriented Leo and Elise, and Magically gifted but just plain ruthless Camilla. She’s held at arm’s length from her family, and while her siblings may have always loved her and expressed that love as often as they could, they’re not always there or a good yardstick to measure her progress with, and she had to always watch them go and likely wonder when they would come back, or if they even would.

As for our beloved butler and maids, being surrounded by servants was probably her most constant and consistent source of contact, and she does love them, but it can be very easy to wonder if they love her because they do or because it's their job to.

Corrin's faith in everyone around her and unwavering trust is there because any sort of doubt is basically redirected to. her. Because she is the dumbass who's still figuring the world out. She's hyper aware she's still learning and making naive decisions and she overcompensates that with "well what do I know" and not feeling really all that worthy to be Special Protagonist. She doubts herself before almost everything else.

Brief mention of Dragon arc because fates was dumb and neglected an entire arc for dragon feelings beyond chapter 5 and foreshadowing for Dad(tm) but I also write in an arc of the Dragon Is A Metaphor For Loving Yourself Faults And Trauma And All Love Yourself And You Can Control Yourself Dammit.

*Corrin hurt herself in her confusion!*

The way I write Corrin is not nearly as put together and confident as Canon™️ Corrin is, at least for a good chunk of the plot. She fakes it till she makes it because she is a leader and being mopey will not get things done but she’s also very self critical and mopey on the inside and quite paranoid that people don’t actually like being around her and just. ball of stress and anxious hidden under Many a uwu that she doesn’t want to talk about because why should she complain her childhood wasn’t That Bad and if she’s mopey how can she set a good example and people don’t like debbie downers and look its fine its fine lmao

PART 2- Mr. Perfect

As for Mr. Subaki he puts a lot of time and effort into looking perfect. I emphasize that because he may very well have natural talent, but honestly it feels like a large amount of his perfection is just. Stressing himself out by planning for and rehearsing everything possible! God this anxious idiot I love him!!! He's sociable and agreeable, but I think with basically everyone it’s. Skin deep. He’s charismatic Enough, and he digs a bit into the other’s history and personality if he’s interested, but he never really lets the other reciprocate like a magician never revealing his fraudulent secrets.

Biggest problem with that is he can't open up and vent because that is to admit a flaw and no no cant have that we cannot have that so he's just. Not sure who to turn to and has trouble being emotionally honest- even to himself. He just! Doesnt let himself have fun or relax; all perfect all the time baby. There’s basically no one who he could consider a close and trusted friend who can love him flaws and all. The closest would be Sakura and Hana and welp. gotta keep things professional and it’s not like Hana really expresses a sense of understanding and patience when they’re fiercely competitive with each other.

There’s probably a lot of muttering to his pegasus while he’s cleaning her hooves or braiding her mane, or staying up late thinking about how narrowly disaster was and wasn’t avoided that day but he. Also doesn’t really vent and also feels that imposter syndrome of “I’m honestly awful how did I even make it here.”

and it stinks because I think at his core he is a very sweet and caring guy and a massive dork, but he just plops himself on the edge of a pedestal and gives himself no room to be himself or anything less than perfect and is likely on the cusp of impending burnout.

you dumb anxious idiot i have S-Ranked you every fucking time I open this godforsaken game I didn’t even fucking plan for this

PART 3- (Patrick Warburton impression) “Oh yeah, it’s all coming together.”

So our characters and stage are set. We got FE Fates (I’ll default to Rev), we got my views when writing these two, so what next? What is the general plot I imagine since we’ve gently scooted aside the canon support chain?

The dumbasses-to-be think they’re out of each other’s league.

For Subaki, it is plot-irrelevant background character falling in love with the protagonist, which yields the exact sort of pining you’d imagine: man you are super cool and hit all my standards but I’d be dreaming if you felt the same about me. She’s sweet, she takes charge, she can fight for herself well enough, has he mentioned she’s sweet? He can actually relax a bit around her which is really odd but I guess that’s what happens when your personal skill is literally called “Supportive”. Oh yeah and also his Lady’s older sister which oof. Sakura? In law???? Hinoka in law???? Takumi in law?????????? ryoma in law oh gods.

For Corrin, it’s Mr. Prince Charming right there and he’s very nice and Sakura is saying so many nice things about him but wow she’s. a princess from a country that has consistently terrorized his and on top of that might a well have been raised under a rock!!! And she picks up details and nuances in people remarkably well, but she overthinks them. She can pick up that Subaki- while very polite and friendly -isn’t being entirely forthcoming about what he’s thinking or feeling, but she can’t pin down exactly what it is, and makes the educated guess that he's just being nice because she’s Sakura’s sister or something.

And they’re friendly. They help each other out a bit. There’s tension, sure, but no one really comments on it (except for everyone making bets in the bg). They don’t really yield on their internal messes because Corrin knows she’s a leader and can’t really do that and distracts herself with believing in everyone around her, Subaki just flat out would rather do literally anything besides admit he’s messed up anywhere or open up. So feeling are put on a low simmer for awhile.

Of course they fall in love, and it almost gets messed up because when Subaki requests to talk with her in private to confess, she immediately assumes he’s going to tell her that he’s not interested. Her simmer roars into a boil because she’s been under Protagonist Stress ON TOP OF having a crush she’s confident won’t be reciprocated, so she snaps quite a bit because that has all been shoved in a bottle and she just wants to get the mess over with if he’s just going to tell her very nicely that her company is lovely but hes not interested it hurts a lot to think that but its fine you don’t have to settle.

But the thing is being emotionally vulnerable like that, pointing out she’s scared too of always not being enough and living up to expectations, to finally get that off her chest, spurs him into it, too. Because she gets it. She honest to god gets it even if she bought into the lie he’s perfect she understands. Oh, yeah, she also reciprocates feelings that’s really excellent too. Like Subaki probably makes a lot of fuss about a bunch of ultimately meaningless details and having “standards” and yadda yadda gods help whatever poor soul asks him to pull out the list of traits of his ideal partner, but I think at the end of the day if he’s looking for love most of all, like a lot of people he just wants someone who he can just. be himself around. Who likes it when he’s being himself!

And they both learn that yeah maybe they’re more flawed than they’ve been lead to believe, but it starts to not matter at all because they still try really hard and everyone makes mistakes. They’re both here to say it’s ok your best is enough, YOU are enough. They both think they’re amazing regardless of their mistakes and love to see each other smiling and succeeding and just make. a nice little bubble of comfort. They’re stubborn and supportive, they learn how to poke and prod the bad moods away be it making a nice cup of matcha and talking it out or laughing at a tiny, meaningless mistake and repeating it to keep that feeling of dread away. Also they both spoil their partners regardless of who they end up with you can’t @ me on that they both do it which means guess what mega spoil time. And long hair on both just means they can braid each other’s hair no problem... waaaaaa.... Also early rise Subaki and late rise Corrin so there’s always a sleepy fight in the morning because UGH this is early you keep saying i’ll get used to it but im not i need a kiss first if you want me to be up this early. Subaki is better at logic and planning than Corrin, and Corrin keeps things optimistic and has a good gut for when to take an improvised risk. They’re always swapping places on who’s holding the other back from a fight that isn’t worth it because some asshole insulted the other, they mediate each other and will fight anyone who even harms a hair on the other’s head. They give and they give back and they work together perfectly.

And when it comes to the kids that bubble expands and they make sure they all have the tools to just take a deep breath and remember it’s okay Mama and Papa love you so much and you’re going to be amazing no matter what you do. Corrin’s got the best stories to tell and Subaki tucks the blankets in just right. They’re good parents with a lot of patience and plenty of mental health wisdom which is good because, as my mom would say, “bad brain chemistry is my bad”.

Like UGH I love them. I love them a lot. A good chunk of this is me making canon better thank me fates devs

Part 4- Katie All of This is Out of Your Noggin What About Canon

(DBZ abridged vc) WHAT ABOUT CANON but ok here have some canon quotes

“The two spent the rest of their lives together. Corrin ruling as the wise Queen of Valla. Subaki adapted quickly to royal leadership and became a great source of support for his wife. “ - Revelation route ending

“I feel like the pressure's off when I'm with you. I don't have to be perfect.” “You'll never be lonely as long as I'm around. Just call me and I'll come running.” - Friendship bonding quotes but also consider waaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

“This might sound corny, but I think you're my soulmate.” - What he says when he is married to you and yes that is corny and its perfect

hot spring is dumb fanservice BUT if you can get the good RNG to get them both in there   “A shared bath warms not just my bones, but my heart as well.” “I-I suppose so...I just wonder if it's right to be so happy...” (emphasis mine) IT ABSOLUTELY IS BE HAPPY AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

also one of his quotes when u stop by your quarters is  "Ah, welcome home, dear. Kick off those shoes and relax. You're with me now!" and you absolute himbo your wife doesn’t fucking wear shoes!!!!!!!!!

Part 5- I’m done I’ve yelled into the void good night enjoy a ship please be excited for the fic I have on the backburner that I will get out there one of these days but I want it to be perfect so RIP me I guess

[clarkewilliams-blog]

     hey lads!!! i’m reese ( 21, est, they/them ) and this here is clarke. i’ve played too many versions of him but i’ve revamped him a bit here to make him a slightly better player so he can have the contract that would let him fit somewhat into this rp lmao. all you need to know about me is that i fucking love hockey and my og team fucking sucks so all i’ve done for the past five years is love on prospects and watch them develop and ( sometimes ) make it to the nhl. so i apologize in advance for going absolute ham on the details of clarke’s path to the nhl no one cares abt. clarke’s a mix of some of my fav nhl prospects and players which i’ll list at the end if anyone cares. also i don’t really know anything about the rangers besides lundqvist being the king and how to properly pronounce skjei so bear with me here.

     i’m always super excited to play clarke, so let’s get to it!!!

          gregg sulkin. male. he/him.  ／  clarke williams just pulled up blasting high hopes by panic! at the disco — that song is so them! you know, for a twenty-four year old nyr defenseman, i’ve heard they’re really -private, but that they make up for it by being so +easygoing. if i had to choose three things to describe them, i’d probably say cold lakewater against sweaty skin, the cool shadows around a spotlight, and an easy smile captured by an unnoticed camera. here’s to hoping they don’t cause too much trouble! ( reese, 21, est, they/them)

THE STORY

--- clarke williams was born on the coldest day of december in a snowstorm, it was only fitting then he would love the cold like nothing else. he fell in love with skating long before he did the sport of hockey : he loved how it made him feel, how exhilarating and freeing it was. when he was eight, he picked up his first hockey stick ( a little LATE by some standards ) and fell in love again.

--- he ascended beyond his peers quickly, driving the game from the blue line even at a young age. his high school made a bid for the coveted state championship TWICE : once his freshman year and again his sophomore year. they never did make it all the way and that’s something he wishes he could have experienced. despite not winning it all, he was noticed by scouts and invited to the tryout camp for the us national team development program. he made the program and finished his last two years of high school with the ntdp in ann arbor, michigan with the u17 and u18 teams, respectively.

--- after his graduation from the program, he was selected in the second round of the 2013 NHL draft, 49th overall to the san jose sharks ( IRONICALLY, that draft pick was originally from the rangers ). he was scouted by the university of north dakota, quinnapiac, and university of minnesota; ultimately, he committed to north dakota, the first school to offer him a scholarship. his freshman year he was selected to team usa at the 18u world juniors where they won gold (2014 u18 wjc), and again his junior year to the 20u world juniors where they won bronze (2016 wjc).

--- the end of his junior year he chose to sign his entry level contract with the sharks instead of finishing his final year at north dakota : they made the frozen four all three years of his tenure, finally winning it all in 2016. it seemed like a fitting time to move on. waiting out the full four years of college and going to free agency had never been on clarke’s mind, the sharks were the ones who’d seen something in him, drafted him, and believed in him — he was always going to sign with them. he finished the 15-16 season on a professional try out with the sharks’ ahl team, the san jose barracuda.

—- the next season (16-17) he played for the barracuda and was called up at the end of the season when injuries plagued the team. he played well during the playoffs but was held to no points and the next season despite his best efforts, he was sent down to the barracuda halfway through training camp. that season (17-18) he was called up in january, once again the sharks made playoffs and he played in them, building upon his progress from the season prior. he entered the off-season feeling like he was in a good place and ready to work through the season, determined to make the big club in october.

—- however, that off-season brought chaos. he’d already flown into san jose for training camp when his agent called with news of a trade. clarke was sent to ottawa as one of the many pieces in the erik karlsson trade. but it didn’t end there, he was still packing when news of a second trade hit : he’d been flipped to the new york rangers in exchange for a third round pick.

—- he arrived at rangers training camp with something to prove, determined to show not one but two teams they’d made a mistake in trading him. he still didn’t make the team straight out of camp, but he played a mere three games with the hartford wolfpack before an injury hit the rangers and he got the call to join the big club. determined to not let this opportunity slip through his hands, he played his heart out on the ice, having an impressive breakout season and establishing his place as a talented two-way defenseman. he did not get sent back down that year (18-19).

—- this past off-season, the team took a gamble and signed him to a lengthy contract instead of a bridge deal, 6 years 4.5 AAV. he starts the first year of this contract this upcoming season.

MISC

—- clarke spends his summers in minnesota at his family’s lake house. he 100% has that dumb minnesota energy and posts videos of him wakeboarding all the time. when he’s not training and preparing for the season or playing in da beauty league ( a summer minnesota hockey league ), he’s probably on a boat. he’s most likely just returned to new york very recently.

—- very calm off the ice ; very easy-going and likes to keep things light. it’s his way with dealing with stress and pressure : just pretend it isn’t there and it won’t affect you.— he’s a hella private person but kinda not in an obvious way?? like he doesn’t share much about himself, esp what he’s feeling or even when massive things happen in his life; even his mom doesn’t know a lot of things that happen/happened to him. however, at the same time he’s extremely personable and friendly, which makes it not super obvious to his friends that they don’t really know a ton about him until they really think about it.

— “tough as a junkyard dog” ; “an absolute beast” ; will play injured ( i don’t condone this and no one should but i can’t stop him… ). there’s this large blotchy thing on his neck that kinda looks like a hickey or rash but it’s actually a three a half inch scar he got when he was 16 when a skate slashed his neck. he’s very lucky it didn’t hit his main artery. it runs from about his adam’s apple and extends toward the side of his neck.

—- he lives in an apartment with two of his teammates during the season, it makes the rent a little more reasonable.

—- ain’t no lie, baby. bi bi bi. ( but on the DL obv ).

—- hockey may have been in clarke’s blood; however, his mother knew the merit of clarke being a well-rounded athlete : he ran cross-country and track, played baseball, and lacrosse. he especially excelled at baseball, but he absolutely hated the practices, so his stint with it did not last particular long. but he had a tough competitive streak, doing well in xc and track, and even lacrosse to a degree ( it certainly helped spades with his hand-eye coordination ). he started focuses more on hockey once hitting high school.

—- SEHNSUCHT : it’s a german word that roughly translates to a yearning for the future, and can maybe be considered a rough antonym for nostalgia. it’s rooted in a belief of constant improvement and that perfection is impossible to achieve ( but that it doesn’t mean you shouldn’t strive for it anyway ). it fits will very well ; he’s not one to dwell on the past and is constantly working to improve himself and his game.

—- he really likes being high up, not because of any sense of ego but actually being high up and looking down at things helps him keep things in perspective ( everything is just a small part of each other ).

—- he hates when people worry about him which is real ironic since he worries about everyone else too much ; be it his team, his friends, or family. it comes with being extremely loyal. on the ice he hates to see teammates pushed around and pretty much will always do something about it.

—- he was raised by a single mother and he appreciates her very much #doubleshifting. it’s given him a humble outlook on life and for a while, he worked as a line cook in a diner to help pay for his hockey equipment. he never wanted to make the nhl for the money or fame, he just wanted to make a living playing the sport he loved. the most he’s made the tabloids was when he briefly dated a model/singer ( possible wc??? ) — they broke up after three months: she couldn’t cope with his schedule and said he was distracted from her.

—- he studied aeronautics in college because besides going into the nhl, the one thing he wanted to be was a pilot.

—- there’s this video of brock boeser where he says “y’know” 45 times in a three minute interview and that’s clarke trying to do media. ( like i said, dumb minnesota energy ).

—- PLAYING STYLE : clarke is an excellent two-way defenseman. his most prominent skill is his ability to skate. he’s very quick and evasive and very good on his edges. he’s good at defensive zone exits and capable of jumping up in the rush, and his speed allows him to get back quickly if he needs to. his slapshot finds its way through traffic and he’s looking to get more minutes on the second powerplay on the point. he can throw big hits when necessary and doesn’t hesitate to sacrifice his body to block shots. he’s good muscle on the ice when scrums break out.

—- 6’3” 201 lbs.

—- PLAY COMPARABLES: brendan guhle ( skating ability and speed ), seth jones ( two-way game ), jake mccabe ( physicality ).

—- PERSONALITY COMPARABLES : brock boeser, will borgen, casey mittelstadt ( just... dumb minnesota energy )

if you actually read all that... i’m very impressed and we definitely need to plot. i’m not one for listing wc’s mostly because i’m bad at them. i’ll be back later after my family thing to read intros, plot, and get interacting with you all!! 

oh also fun fact, i also wrote most of this without brady skjei in mind until i went on campfriendly to find contract comparables and i lowkey kinda accidentally made brady skjei huh.