#petty crook au

[reignpage]

Basketball Captain!Toji

Detroit Pistons: reaching for the ball

Warnings: 18+ minors and ageless blogs dni, bts of a modern au!smau (part 2 of Toji's series), can be read as a standalone but makes most sense with the context, cursing, mentions of blood and violence, general stupidity at a party, just one long foreplay really, not proofread

You really shouldn’t be here. 

Not a party full stop, not trying to enact petty revenge against your shitty ex, and certainly not with Toji Fushiguro, captain of the basketball team, and resident fuckboy. 

He’s taken you by surprise at every given turn. You hadn’t expected him to ask for your number from his friend, you hadn’t expected him to reach out just to complain about his placement on the List of the hottest men on campus, and especially did not expect him to let you into the gym just because it was raining, though he did shrug off your incredulous look with a nonchalantly delivered jab. 

“Y’ were ruining my view with y’r ugly crying face.”

And somehow, you had let him convince you to use him to make your ex jealous, to show him what he was missing out on. 

Now you, the girl who never drank, never wore short skirts, never stayed out too late, followed every rule to the letter, is now sitting firmly on Toji’s lap, slotting in perfectly like a puzzle piece, at a frat party. 

It’s like you’ve somehow ended up in an alternate universe or woke up in someone else’s body. Maybe you’re in a dream. Except the searing brand of a heavy hand on your bare thigh is disproving any of those theories. 

“You enjoying yourself?” His voice is low and gruff, you feel it vibrate against your body, lulling you into a sense of comfort. The rough denim of his jeans is warming your skin, his solid chest keeps you grounded, and his thick arms have you all wrapped up, balanced securely and protected from the night air.

You nod, head buried in the crook of his neck. Once in a while you inhale his musky aftershave, relishing in that freshly showered scent he always had. “My sources say Gojo throws a party at least once a week.”

“Guy likes to party,” is all he says.

There have been flashes of his white hair around the large house, disappearing among the crowds and into different rooms. He had greeted you when you first walked into the garden to make your way to Toji with a beer in hand like your partner in crime had instructed you. 

Gojo was nice, very friendly, a little loud, but you knew that already. As the writer for the gossip column, you know every thing there was to know about everyone worth knowing. Which is ironic since you’re nobody and you knew none of these people personally. But the frat president knew you. He had greeted you like you were long time friends and pulled you into a tight hug.

“Hey, look who it is! My favourite person in the world.” He slung an arm over your shoulders and cheered with everyone else, seemingly oblivious to the heat rising on your face. “Thanks again for putting me top of the List. Nice to know people have taste.”

And then Toji was grumbling and wrestling you out of the rowdy guy’s grip to a quieter part of the house. He told you to explore the place, get familiar, freshen up your makeup ‘or whatever else chicks need’, and to text him if you find your ex first. 

Now, here you are, making yourself comfortable on his thighs, goosebumps rising along your skin at the feel of his long fingers creeping up your leg and just teasing the hem of your ridiculously short skirt. 

Some people would come over, once in a while, to talk to Toji. They’d say hi to you but they were mostly interested in knowing how the captain feels about the upcoming games. A few girls would stumble over, giggling and twirling their hair but they leave pretty quickly once they see Toji’s eyes fixated on you. 

You have got to give him credit; he’s totally committed to the bit.

Perhaps a little too committed with how he’d frequently whisper right in your ear, warm breath trickling your neck. 

“You look damn good tonight, ma.”

The way he says it, the low groan that he teases you with, makes you press your thighs together. It’s a completely inappropriate reaction; you really should not be feeling tingly from his flirtations. He doesn’t mean them. Toji is just playing the part, trying to goad your ex into a fight so he can ‘ruin the vibe’ at Gojo’s party. 

Because, for whatever reason, Toji had beef with the man that seemed completely one-sided, if the hug the frat president tried to throw to the basketball captain was anything to go by. 

You stutter out a ‘thanks’ and ignore the heat rising to your cheeks. 

Toji huffs a laugh, tightening his hold on you before he leans back in the patio chair, taking you with him so you’re resting on him. Your skirt’s definitely ridden up your ass by now, but his large hand wraps around the flesh there like second nature. 

Despite the chill in the garden, you’re content in his arms. The man runs hot.

It’s easy to get lost in his body; the man is built like a Greek god, all muscle and strength, carved straight from marble. And it’s precisely because he’s so firm and hard beneath you, that you forget your ex is just a couple metres away, leaning against a brick wall with a red cup in hand, glaring at you two. 

“Dunno why Gojo let that guy into the frat when he’s so fucking ugly,” Toji grumbles. 

You laugh. 

Once upon a time, you thought you were lucky to be with him. That he was the catch and you were punching up; he certainly made you feel that way. Always reminding you that he could have any girl on campus, that the barista at your local coffee shop had given him her number with a smiley face, and that as a member of one of the most influential fraternities in the country, he could have any job he wanted. 

But as you throw a glance at him, you realise all of that was false bravado. A Napoleon Complex, most likely. 

And not once, since Toji picked you up, have you felt less than. He compliments you so frequently, so spontaneously, and so earnestly you can’t help but believe him. 

“Why do you hate Gojo, by the way?”

The captain glances down at you, a slow smirk emerging on his face and you gulp at the sight of that scar stretching. You want to know more about it, simply because you’re a journalist, it’s in your nature to be inquisitive, and definitely not because you want to trace the skin there whilst feeling his voice rumble through his body and into yours. 

With a shrug, he lifts his beer to his lips, and admits, “Don’t really hate the guy. Just wanna knock him down a peg or two.”

“I stalked Gojo for about two weeks just for a statement one time, y’know.” You stare at the people hooting and hollering over a table of beer pong, watching their jumping bodies, so light, so free like there isn’t a whole world of problems beyond the frat house’s territory. “When I finally cornered him after his lecture, he laughed and said I didn’t have to do all of that. I could have just texted him.”

Toji huffs an amused laugh. “That’s what’s annoying ‘bout the guy. He’s nice. Real fucking nice. But — and this is off the record, doll — guy’s got problems. And yet he’s always smiling. Just pisses me off, sometimes.”

And to that you just nod. You get it. There are some people out there who just seem to have it all, and you resent them for it, but they never hold it against you, and you resent them even more. 

“How did you become friends with him anyways?”

“Just kinda happened.”

If you have to hazard a guess, you’d probably say it happened through the fact that they all run in the same circle. Big personalities like him and Gojo and Sukuna, are hard to miss. They’re the kind of people want to be around. Everyone knows Sukuna and Toji have been roommates since first year, allocated on a random basis at first, and they hit it off instantly, opting to room together since then. 

With a sweep of the backyard, you enquire, “Where is Sukuna?”

“Somewhere, I’m sure. Guy doesn’t really like parties, actually.”

You gasp. “But my sources say he attends most of them.”

Toji places the bottle in your lap and you cradle it like it’s a treasure. He runs a hand through his hair and leans his head back with his eyes closed like he’s soaking up the moon’s rays. Earlier, you had told him you felt bad you were holding him back from enjoying his night, but he just patted your ass and said ‘it’s good to slow down, sometimes.’

“He does, but I think guy just likes to know all the drama. Likes to cause them too, the prick.”

You poke his chest. “Sounds like someone I know.”

He peeks at you with one eye, small grin on his lips.

“We’re a match made in heaven, doll.”

The conversation fades and you just rest your head on his chest, listening to the steady thumping of his heart and desperately trying to ignore the shiver that threatens to wrack up your spine with the graze of his thumb against that sliver of skin between your skirt and top. 

Toji’s holding you like he’s been holding you since the dawn of time. There’s no awkwardness, no uncomfortable shuffles to accommodate your weight, and he doesn’t even look the least bit bothered that sometimes people will point and whisper at the star basketball player and some nobody cuddling up in the corner on a swinging bench. 

You sense movement in the corner of your eye and spot a girl cozying up to your ex. He looks at you with a smug face. 

“How did you know my ex would care?”

You stifle a gasp from the sudden clench of his hand over your waist. It was forceful but gentle, invoking flashing images of him towering over you, wrangling you into position. He could easily bend you over and take what he wanted. Toji is big and muscular, yes, but he’s also an athlete. There’s no doubt in your mind that he has the stamina and endurance to go all night and not break a sweat. 

Shaking your head slightly, you bring the beer to your lips absentmindedly, taking a swig that leaves you blanching. How anyone could drink this, you’d never know. 

“No guy wouldn’t care that his ex moved on pretty quickly. Plus, insecure little shits like him need to think that they got the better end of the deal. He needs to know you’re all sad and stupid over him so he feels important.”

Wise words. 

It surprises you slightly. 

Of course, most students at Eden are smart — being one of the top universities in the world means having high standards. But no one would ever go to a frat-party attending jock for advice, much less dating advice, and expect insightful revelations. You feel guilty for underestimating Toji. He’s actually pretty smart. 

“Look, he’s got a girl on his arm and yet he keeps looking at you.”

It’s true. 

You can feel his leery gaze sweeping up and down your body, and it makes you want to throw up. So you shuffle closer to Toji, impossibly closer, and he lets you. 

“You look hot, doll. Just gotta own it, yeah?” His breath fans over you and it sets your skin ablaze. One hand rubs at your thigh, relishing in the soft, smooth skin and the other is gripping your hip. And beneath you, there’s something you’ve been giving your best shot constantly to pretend isn’t there. 

Toji Fushiguro is hard. 

And big, by the feel of it. 

You already knew that, of course. You get lots of anonymous tips through your ‘Insider’s Line’, as you like to call it, voicing in exhilarated pants about recent escapades. It’s a hotline anyone could call. You’re the only person who has access to the voicemails that get left behind. And it’s never usually a tedious process to sift through the prank calls and the boring confessions to get to the juicy details about the ongoings on campus. 

Many of those voicemails are to do with Toji. Whether that was about how he ‘so hot’ they could just ‘die or, like, combust’ or variations of ‘oh my god, that dick is fire, for real.’

You are not a prude. 

You have too much exposure to much more graphic descriptions of people’s adventures to be shy about sex, not to mention, you’re an adult. A virgin, but still an adult with friends who are not shy about their sex lives, to put it mildly. In fact, you’ve got a certain art student friend who loves to rant all the ways she’d like a certain vandal to ‘paint’ her with his ‘artistic essence.’

Whatever that means. 

And yet, despite all your pieces on the wildest, most inappropriate topics like ‘the hottest sex position right now’ and ‘is six inches really enough?’, you find yourself blushing at the realisation that the captain of the basketball team is sporting a boner that he doesn’t care to hide. 

You clear your throat and with a whisper, you say, “I hope I’m not making you…uncomfortable.”

You wince at the awkward wording. What are you? A child?

Toji grunts. 

“You referring to my boner, ma?” When you nod embarrassed, he taps your thigh with two fingers. “It’s your fault so you gonna lend a hand or what?”

If he was anyone else, literally anyone else, you’d be outraged. No man should talk to a lady like that and insinuate that they have a responsibility over someone else’s bodily reactions. It’s backwards and uncouth!

But…

Toji Fushiguro is not anyone else. 

You know he’s joking; he doesn’t seem to have any qualms in making stupid jokes with you because he knows you write filthier things. He’s tested your boundary many times in the past couple days and you’ve grown accustomed to his humour. 

And even if he isn’t joking, you have no problems with taking the opportunity. 

You shouldn’t.

You just got broken up with the other day and it’s unwise to get personally involved with a person you write so frequently about. Bias must not be tolerated is your mantra. 

Yet, your thighs are pressed tightly together, your nipples are poking through your top and you know he can see them, and if you were to slide a hand between your legs, you’d likely find wetness that is unbecoming of a lady. 

Wait. 

Among hundreds of voicemails, didn’t you receive one about how a guys likes girls sitting on his lap so he could feel their pussy?

Can Toji feel your pussy clenching, moistening and fluttering on his thigh?

You tilt your head up with a panic and you’re aghast. He’s already looking down at you with a challenging raise of his brow and a smirk playing on his lip. He knows what you’re thinking and he sees the question in your eyes. 

Toji flexes his thigh in an answer, pressing it harder against you, and the friction is delectable. It leaves you reeling, hand clutching his chest for stability. His arms tighten around you, and he’s sitting up, no longer lazily lounging, but now drawing closer, muscles tense despite his calm expression. Green eyes flicker up and down your face, settling on your lips with a hunger you surely match. You’re entranced. He smells clean and fresh with a hint of something burnt, a maturity you want to explore. His scent is filling your head, washing away the smell of cheap liquor and weed. 

Then, a foghorn like whoop pierces the mist. 

Some guy had climbed the balcony and is threatening to jump into the empty pool. Everyone crowds around, laughing and cheering. 

The moment is lost between you and your new friend, but he doesn’t let you up. In fact, he isn’t even looking at the idiot — not like you are, thinking about piece you could write about party culture — but rather at his stupid roommate, who stands on the other balcony, leaning against the railing as he looks on at everyone in disgust. 

Perhaps it’s the sheer fact that they’ve been friends for a while, and so he knows Sukuna’s inclination for inciting violence and general nonsensical behaviour for his own sick satisfaction, that makes Toji so damn sure this is his doing. Or maybe it’s the fact that he knows his roommate has developed a fascination with pushing a certain someone’s buttons. 

And when his phone pings and he receives a text from his pink-haired teammate, he knows it’s both. 

If the fucker stains Gojo’s pool with his blood, you think he’ll complain to the Prez?

Toji doesn’t bother answering, he just pockets his phone again with a tsk. He’s totally gonna hide the guy’s car keys in retaliation later for ruining his moment. He was so close to getting a taste of a certain gossip columnist and the opportunity was gone and excusing herself to go inside for a blanket. 

When she disappears from sight, weaving through the crowd still egging the loser on, the captain groans into the sky, squeezing his throbbing cock to adjust it. It’s gonna be a long night, he thinks, but then smiles to himself when he notices your dumbass ex still glaring with as much hate as the little guy can muster, and he knows he saw the whole thing. 

Now, all he can think about is you returning as quickly as possible so he can pick up where he left off. He’s gonna push all three of you as far as possible tonight: the ex will know he’ll never be man enough for a woman like you and that’s why he couldn’t get you wet; you’ll learn to let go, trust the pleasure and embrace it; and Toji?

Well, Toji’s gonna learn that the quietest girls are usually the ones with the most to say. 

[hurlingdown]

LET MY FINGERS DO THE TALKING — TOP MALE READER X TRAFALGAR LAW

synopsis. law can't figure out why you're ignoring him. yeah, he's aware that the both of you are in the middle of a party, in public, but he's drunk n' horny as fuck and he wants you so bad. it'll just be cruel not to give in to his demands! wc. 2.1k

tags. sub! ftm! law, service! top! reader. reader secretly fingers his pussy in public, exhibitionism, nothing too hardcore, established relationship, modern!au, some dirty talk, begging, dry humping, fingering law’s pussy: the fic

Parties could be tolerable, Law reluctantly admitted, if your boyfriend wasn’t currently ignoring you. 

The bar was filled with rowdy chatter, shitty college kids without any regard for their organs drinking themselves silly (cough cough, a certain red-haired money-loving witch and a one-eyed swordsman), dancing to some lacklustre pop song that had made a hit back in the late 2000s and never since. Law couldn’t even recall its name—it was a testament to how wasted he was. 

Anyhow, a party wasn't his usual definition of entertainment, but it was good enough of a distraction. Tolerable, per se. 

What the un-fun part of parties was, aside from his poor tolerance of alcohol, was that they distracted something else. You.

You had been intentionally ignoring him for the past twenty minutes, too absorbed with talking with your friends and having fun without him. And the worst part was, you were the one who invited him to this in the first place. Frankly, he wouldn’t care to be here if it wasn’t for you, and yet you weren’t even talking to him.

“Prude. Jerk. Bastard,” he cursed under his breath, downing his seventh cup of watered-down beer and crunching up the plastic before stalking over to where you were sitting. 

“Hey sweetheart.” You raised your head, greeting him with a smile, but that was all the acknowledgement he got before you turned back to your friends and started laughing about something Law was sure wasn’t more important than he was. 

Law was fucking pissed, drink and temper-wise. You were going to pay for your ignorance. 

Then again, climbing into your lap and whining into your ear wasn’t exactly the best way to get your attention nor execute his petty revenge, but Law was drunk and horny and anything but rational right now. 

He slung his arms around you, starting to kiss your neck wetly. “Y/n-ya,” he whined. He made sure to be quiet, loud enough for you to hear him over the music, but not enough that anyone else around you would. He smirked as he saw the tips of your ears redden, but that was all the response he got. 

Not giving up just yet, he moved to kiss and lick at the sensitive spot behind your ear, deliberately moaning softly as he did so, and that succeeded in making your breath stutter. 

Much to his displeasure, however, you placed one hand on his hip, squeezing lightly as though to express your disapproval. He frowned, wriggling to get closer to you on your lap. 

“Are you ignoring me?” he griped, slapping his hands on the sides of your face and forcing you to look at him. “Why are you ignoring me?” 

“Law,” you murmured, pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek. “Not now.” 

He shook his head stubbornly, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck as he started to grind down on you. “But I’m horny now,” he cried out. “Want you now.” 

“Later,” you whispered to Law, trying to keep him still, but he only bucked his hips against you harder. 

You blushed furiously, shooting your friends a pleading glance for them to leave. Thankfully, they got the memo, but they didn’t leave without making kissy faces and wolf whistles, to which you scowled at. 

Law, however, was too out of it to even register their departure. 

“Pleasee, y/n-ya.” He sucked a hickey onto your neck, trying his best to press every inch of himself against you. You seized in a breath, still pretending to be disinterested, but it was clear that your dick wanted something else with the way it strained painfully against your trousers. “Please, okay?” 

You were about to refuse again, but then his hand tightened around your wrist, guiding it to his crotch. You gave him a questioning look, but then he pushed your palm against his clothed cunt, rubbing it over the damp fabric, whining softly to let you know just how much he wanted this, needed this. 

You cursed under your breath, dizzy from the amount of blood rushing to your face. “Law… we can’t. Not here.” 

“Just a little bit,” he bargained, “I’ll be so good, y/n-ya.”  

You wanted so badly to just bend him over the counter and have your way with him, but you had the decency to remind yourself that you were currently in public. There were people all around you. Sure, most of them were too drunk out of their minds to notice or care, the music was blaring and it was dark enough to hide whatever would happen between the two of you, but that didn’t make this okay. 

You froze when you felt him slowly roll his hips, letting out little whimpers as he started to ride your hand.

“Mmpfh, ah, y/n-ya… y/n-ya,” he chanted your name between moans, one hand gripping your shoulder for leverage while the other crammed your hand against his pussy, using it like a sex toy. Law was looking at you with an obscene expression, eyes glazed over with pleasure and want and he looked so fucking good. 

Just a little, you found yourself thinking. Just a little would be okay, right? Right? 

“Pleasee,” Law whined, tears forming in his eyes, “I need it so so bad.” 

It wasn’t fair. No, it wasn’t fair at all. How could you ever say no to him when he was begging you like this? 

You were almost embarrassed by the way you felt your resolve crumble completely in a matter of seconds. “Okay, okay, fine. But you have to promise to behave. If we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it my way, yes?” 

He nodded dumbly, now moaning and whining quietly into your ear, mimicking the noises he would make in bed while you fucked him into the mattress. His hips shifted forward until he planted himself right on top of your hard-on, continuing to grab your hand and rub your thumb against his clit. “I want you inside me,” he gasped. “Wanna feel your hard cock inside—”  

You clamped your free hand over his mouth, heart going overdrive, and it was a miracle at this point but no one had overheard. That, or they were pretending not to have.

“I thought you were going to behave,” you hissed. “Just my fingers, and then I’ll give you anything you want when we get back home. Can you behave for me now?” 

Law whined a yes, pulling back to lick and suck at your fingers lewdly while you pulled down his zipper. His panties were drenched with slick—a clear sign of his arousal, and you stroked his entrance through the cloth, lightly dipping a finger inside.

“You’re so wet,” you breathed. “Does this turn you on? Doing it in public?” 

“No, no… ‘s all for you,” he moaned around your digits, “y/n-ya. S’wet only for you.” 

You exhaled shakily at his words, having not expected that. Drunk Law was dangerous, you realised. 

“Keep saying shit like that, and you’re going to get us caught,” you muttered, pushing his panties aside to reveal his soaked cunt. Fuck, he was so pretty, above and underneath. 

You rubbed your thumb in slow but meaningful circles on his clit as he whimpered and shuddered. “Don’t tease, hnn, just put it in already…” 

“Be patient.” You pushed a digit past his folds, the glide smooth and easy with slick coating his walls. You crooked your finger to loosen him up, sliding another one inside to feel out the filthy stretch. 

“More,” he demanded, rocking his hips to try in a futile attempt to take your fingers deeper. 

You pulled out the fingers he was sucking on with a wet ‘pop’ while continuing to scissor him lazily with your other hand. You reached under his shirt to fondle his chest, rolling his nipple between your spit-soaked fingers before giving it a sharp pinch.

“Y/n-ya…!” He jolted in your lap with a startled whine, head falling to rest on your shoulder. “Hngh, not so sudden…” 

You ignored his protests, murmuring into his ear, “Lower your voice or you won’t be getting any more than this. That is, unless you want them to hear.” 

Law shook his head, eyes blown wide with lust, and he stuffed the front of his shirt into his mouth to muffle his moans. He could be good for you when he needed to be.

Pleased by his reaction, you started to pump your fingers in and out of him. You set a slow yet consistent pace, and he tightened his hold on your shoulders every time you curled them. His thighs were trembling with the effort of holding himself back, trying his hardest not to grind back against you—it was almost cute how the threat of taking away what he wanted gave you so much power over him. 

“So good, baby,” you praised. “I think you deserve a reward for that. Do you?” 

“Yes,” he whined through the makeshift gag. “Please.” 

You grinned. He was being so obedient today, you couldn’t help but spoil him a little. Hand trailing down to grip his waist and hold him in place, you suddenly flicked your wrist upwards with your other hand, crushing the pads of your fingers directly against his sweet spot. 

Law jerked violently in your lap, sobbing out a profanity. His shirt had slipped from his lips, but you continued to rub incessantly at the same area, hearing him let out broken whine after whine through clenched teeth, legs shaking from the overstimulation. “S’good,” he slurred, “don’t stop, please, please—”

He wasn’t exactly being quiet and good like he promised, but seeing Law lose all semblance of control from being pleasured just by your fingers was such a turn-on that you couldn’t bring yourself to stop—the prospect of being seen only added to the excitement.

You started to pump your fingers faster, your other hand reaching down to play with his clit, pinching and massaging the nub as he wailed out. 

You were about to warn him about his volume, but then a sharp pain on your shoulder made you seize up—you realised he had bit you to smother his desperate noises. His walls were spasming around your fingers with every thrust, and even if you couldn’t see his face, you knew exactly how much of a fucked-out mess he looked like right now, had seen him lost in pleasure way too many times to count that the sight had engraved itself into your mind. 

Fuck. This was so hot.

“Are you close?” you asked, and he whined a yes, biting you harder in response. “Good. You’re so good. Kiss me, baby.” 

He complied, reeling back to clumsily press his lips against you, letting you kiss him wet and rough and hungry, swallowing his needy moans. “Close, close,” he panted, and you fucked your fingers into him harder, tongue slipping into his mouth as he responded to the kiss sloppily, drool trickling down his chin and neck. “I’m gonna cum, y/n-ya, please—” 

“Cum for me, Law.” 

Law shivered at the authoritative tone at the same time as you rammed your fingers into his sweet spot, hard. With a muffled cry, he clamped up tight, cumming all over your fingers. Warm milky liquid gushed out from his abused hole in a flood as his nails dug into your shoulders so hard you were sure they were going to leave crescent-shaped scars, and you groaned out as well.

You continued to rub his clit roughly, milking him throughout his orgasm while he twitched and spasmed, letting out a sobbing keen of your name as his pussy gave another weak spurt of cum. 

Exhausted, he slumped down into your arms, stretched cunt clenching around nothing. “Y/n-ya…” he panted.  

“Was that okay?” you murmured, worry creeping into your chest. It wasn’t your first time fingering him to completion and your sex life wasn’t particularly vanilla, but doing it in a public setting was still new to you and adventurous for your standards. 

Law gave you a tired look of disbelief. “I can’t feel my legs. Was that okay?” 

You laughed at his snarky tone, kissing his cheek as you zipped him back up. “I’ll carry you home and then I’ll make it up to you, yeah?” 

“Mm… you better.”  masterlist!

[anton-luvr]

hii could u write abt how riize would react to you avoiding their kisses as a prank? like the tiktok challenge! tysm i love ur writing!!

# WHEN YOU AVOID THEIR KISSES ; 7riize.

⚝ bf!riize x gn!reader | fluff | bf au, prank au ⚝ note ; this is perhaps my favorite request... tysm for requesting anon!!! hope u like it and thank u <3

# SHOTARO. - the smile on his face instantly falters. he freezes for a while, trying to process what just happened. softly, he'll mumble "why'd you move away? come back here :(" and tugs you back by your arm so he can kiss you. once you burst laughing and tell him it's just a prank, his signature smile is back on his face as he kisses you.

# EUNSEOK. - petty mode: activated. the moment you dodge his kiss, he'll go "oh so you don't wanna kiss me? okay, fine don't kiss me then" and he'll saunter away with a scoff. when you run after him to tell him it's just a prank, he'll huff and fold his arms, grumbling about how "it's not funny". but once you kiss him, all pettiness melts away and he attacks you with tickles to make you promise not to do that again.

# SUNGCHAN. - he'll be in absolute disbelief. like did you just turn away??? from his kiss????? when you ask for them almost 24/7?????????? he instantly knows there's something up, and he'll chase after you to kiss you, your laughter echoing across your apartment. when he finally catches up to you on the sofa, he'll pin you down and smother you in kisses till you're breathless and your stomach hurts from laughing.

# WONBIN. - bro is confused™. he's oblivious at first, and he'll ask you if he has something on his face. but when you shake your head no and move away from him when he tries to kiss you again, he gets even more confused. he'll whine a "then why won't you let me kiss you?", and you can't help but laugh and give in to your lovely boyfriend.

# SEUNGHAN. - he instantly thinks he did something wrong, because you've never declined his kisses before. he'll apologize so so so gently, voice full of so much love and care for you. he didn't even do anything wrong but it's so sweet, and you kiss him and tell him it's all just a prank with a smile. he doesn't even care about it, because "as long as i still get to kiss you at the end of the day, i don't mind."

# SOHEE. - you have officially left him #heartbrocken. like the drama queen he is, he'll gasp and screech "do you not love me anymore?" before clutching at his supposedly wounded heart. even when you laugh at him, he keeps the act up. "are you laughing at my suffering?!" he wails, groaning in false pain. needs plenty of kisses and cuddles for the drama to go away after you tell him it's only a prank.

# ANTON. - he wants the ground to open up and eat him alive. he gets sooooo embarrassed and will literally turn and run away from you to hide himself, face bright red. when you stop him to tell him it's just a prank, he gets even more embarrassed. he'll whine a "not funny, don't do it again." while he hugs you, hiding his face in the crook of your neck.

© anton-luvr, 2023.

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[kray-zay]

@heartsandsparksshipweek day 3 mermaid au, yipee

The basic sorta plot setup ↓↓↓

Tracks had always been curious about the surface. He heard interesting things about it and saw the strange artifacts that floated down. He was always warned about going up there, it wasn't uncommon for a mer to visit the surface to never be seen again. he intended to just take a peek at what the surface has to offer and not get too close to land, but after seeing the strange light on the shore, he swam to get a closer look he never seen anything quite like it before, while he getting closer he accidentally gets himself tied up in fishing wire and beaches himself under a bridge. Raoul is a punk, a petty crook, a graffiti artist, and currently in debt to the Geddis Brothers, doing jobs for them to hopefully pay it back. He jumps a fence to do graffiti under a bridge, finding a weird fish man tied up and injured, and ends up cutting him free, helping him the best he can. Tracks is stuck in the stinky New York Bay until his wounds fully heal since most mers live in very deep parts of the ocean and the changing water pressure could make his Injuries worse, so he can't go home for the time being, his only company being when Raoul visits. The plot sort of follows Raoul, and Tracks keeps getting closer while at the same time getting into deeper and deeper trouble. Raoul gets more entangled in organized crime while Tracks unknowingly finds himself the target of a certain research group looking to capture and study him.

I have a few ideas about how this story ends, but it really depends on how I develop it. yeah, I will probably never write this fic since I'm busy focusing on other stuff, but if you like to use anything here to make a fic, go for it. I have a lot more ideas for this au, but it would be a mess of scattered notes if I tried to explain it, but you guys can send me an ask if ya want to know more.

The nice thing about New York is it actually does touch the ocean and a bay, I don't need to relocate Raoul for the AU to work, but no beautiful tropical Scenery like most mermaid aus, only stinky, polluted New York trash water.

[byhees]

calling them ‘bro’ trend.

엔하이픈 ・ female reader + word count 700 genre fluff established relationship non-idol au warnings not proof-read kissing skinship petnames — more

a/n. requested and scheduled— plagiarism notice

heeseung would do an instant double-take, his head snapping towards you; starts to question his own hearing abilities, because there’s virtually no way you just called him that— bro? bro?? is what would go through his mind; “baby. not bro”, he’d sound out, leaning forward to close the space between your faces, his body towering over yours— there’s a little pout on his lips, and it’s undeniable that his brows are lightly furrowed in adorable insistence…

jay would not mind too much, thinking that it’s just a little slip-up; but when those three letters fall from your lips once more, he’s sure that you’re playing with him; “love, did you just.. call me ‘bro’?” and when you tilt your head to the side, gawking at him with faux confusion, he swears that he’s mirroring you; would pepper you with kisses afterwards, mumbling cute petnames in between each one— “babe. i’m your babe, okay?” he’d say, lightly sulking in the process…

jake would gawk at you in disbelief; “bro. bro?? do ‘bro’s do this, hmm?” he’d start, leaning close to press a long kiss on the swell of your cheek; and when he hears you reply with “i don’t know, bro”, he leans forward, closing the proximity to plant a kiss on your lips; “i’m not your bro, i’m your boyfriend”, he’d continue, a playful tint shining in his narrowed eyes; won’t hesitate to pepper you with as many kisses as possible— as long as you know he’s, one-hundred percent, not your bro…

sunghoon would gape at you, because how in the world did ‘baby’ become ‘bro’?; honestly ponders if he’s done anything to upset you— “did i.. do anything wrong? you can tell me if i did, love”, and he’s just looking up at you with his pretty pair of glistening eyes; and of course, to make up for it, you shower him with tons and tons of kisses; “baby. baby. baby— that’s my name..! well, it’s actually sunghoon… but that’s not the point..!”, he’d mumble, burying his face in the crook of your neck to hide his reddened cheeks…

sunoo would look offended beyond belief; even the mere recollection of that nickname has him shivering— he’s your… bro? definitely one to get all sulky and pouty; his arms would be crossed over his chest, and his head would be whipped to the side; refuses to speak another word until the familiar petname, ‘love’, falls from your lips; “that’s much better. i’m your love, your boyfriend, your lover”, he’d say, tugging you close for a hug, his little frown still lingering on the corners of his mouth…

jungwon would unknowingly ignore you, because you never, ever, call him ‘bro’; “bro, why aren’t you responding back?” he’d hear you say, a finger of yours tapping on his shoulder— and then, it hits him; his eyes would widen in an instant, lips parted in mortification. “s-sorry, could you repeat that?”, he’d ask, and when the word falls from your lips once more, his hand is flying up to slap over his agape mouth; “i knew jake was a bad influence..! it’s ‘love’, ‘sweetheart’, ‘baby’, anything but bro”, he’d say, emphasising the last word; would pepper your face with kisses, just as a little reminder that he is, in fact, not your ‘bro’…

riki would play along with you, adding the nickname in his response; “what do you wanna eat, bro?” he’d hear you ask, and he’d reply with a short, “i don’t know, bro”; instead of throwing him off guard, you’re the one fumbling because did he really just reverse-bro you? would be so petty about it; uses it throughout the day, often times pouting a tad whilst doing so; drops the nonchalance the moment you shower him with kisses and hugs, a sulky frown tugging on his lips— “‘bro’ is such a bad nickname. i’ll take.. i don’t know… ‘baby cakes’, or even ‘sweet cheeks’..! over that, any day”, is what he’d mumble; would probably sulk over said petnames the following day…

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[songmingisthighs]

[12:14] boxer!san × nurse!reader

⇀ he's your favourite outlaw and it's not because of his rugged charm, surprisingly it's because of how tender he actually is

⇁ bouncy killed me istfg

⇁ happy sannie day ❣️❣️

genre : boxer!au, romance, outlaw!ateez

wc : 1.8 k

It didn't take much for you to recognize him.

Even with his body sitting down and leaning on the stairs as he faced the floor, you could easily recognize that it was him.

You wanted to greet him as you usually would, but as you got closer, you noticed something weird about him. His back was moving in a rhythmical manner like how he usually would when he was breathing but it was slower than usual. The closer you get, the more you realize that he had cuts on his arm and some bruises.

"Oh my God, San," you called, rushing to his side as quickly as you could, your fatigue from 12 hours shift suddenly went away at the sight of his bloodied tank top. You knelt in front of him and peeked up to see that he had his eyes closed and eyebrows furrowed but he wasn't responsive. Usually, at the sound of your voice, the flirt would throw you a lazy gaze and a Cheshire-like grin that would make you blush and sputter. But seeing him in this unresponsive position actually scared you. You genuinely felt like something was wrong and knowing that he was an underground fighter makes the situation even worse for you.

"San, can you hear me?" you asked as you made an initial assessment, hands brushing his bangs out of his eyes to look at his face. From the get-go, you could see that he had a bruised cheekbone, a busted lip, and possibly a concussion. You can only imagine what his body must be like. And you meant that as in the bruises on his torso and not how it must look. Because you know damn well it's sculpted as fuck from the many times he walked past you and intentionally flashed you his abs.

You tried lifting his head up but he let out a grunt and shook his head. "Too bright," he complained.

Understanding this, you nodded and moved to sit next to him closely as you brought one of his arms and rest it on your shoulder. "I need to take you to my apartment so I can properly tend to your wounds. Do you think you can move?" true to his mannerism, he chuckled and leaned his head to the crook of your neck like a feline seeking contact, "How 'bout you give me some sugar first? That might help me gain some strength." You automatically rolled your eyes at his remark but you had to admit his words made you feel better because at least you know that he was fine. "Okay big guy, we're moving you," you stated as you started pulling him up and leading him to the elevator. "Big guy? Have you been checking me out, pretty?" he teased. You kept quiet thought because a. yes, and b. he needs to shut up.

The elevator ride up was thankfully not that hard as San was holding his own weight for the most part, you just guide him so he wouldn't sway or even fall down. He also stayed quiet which concerned you but you were just glad that he was still moving. Sure, he stumbled slightly as he got into your apartment, but other than that, he settled down on your couch easily and even respectfully towards your cat.

You rushed to get the first aid kit that you always kept stocked in your bedroom, knowing that San and his roommate, Wooyoung, would sometimes come knocking in after a night of fighting be it in the ring or in an alley with people they messed with. So it wasn't really a surprise to go back to your living room to see your tabby cat, Taco, splayed on San's lap looking like he just found the comfiest bed ever. You obviously wouldn't mind trying but for now, you just wanted to make sure that San was alright.

"Taco, move away from Sannie, mommy needs to clean him," you called out as you sat next to San. But Taco, in all his absolute pettiness, simply lift his head up and stared dead straight into your eyes as if challenging you as he fluff up San's thighs with his pudgy paws. You couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at your hellraiser with equal challenge, letting him know that he was not the boss of you. When he didn't move his chubby butt, you were forced to deliver the last blow, "Or else no snacks." That seemed to speak to him on a profound level as he jumped off after giving you one last dirty look and retreated into your bedroom. "Sorry about him," you grinned sheepishly, taking San's hand into your lap as you began cleaning the first wound your eyes fell on. San couldn't even feel the pain of his wound getting cleaned anymore, so instead of worrying over the result of the last night's fight, he focused his eyes o you, "No worries, I like him. And I love the fact that you called me Sannie to Taco which leads me to believe that you might have been talking about me to him a lot," he teased.

Your eyes widened at his (very accurate) assumption and you wanted to believe that he didn't notice the blush that bloomed on your face, an absolute testament to what this man could do to you without doing much. "So," you cleared your throat, "What happened?" you asked, changing the topic before he could tease you more. "What else do you think? I won," he boasted, proud that he made bank from his hard night's work.

Though it was a good thing that he won, you couldn't help but sigh in disappointment hearing that he went rounds upon rounds to secure his achievement. "I worry about you," you blurted out, turning around to get betadine and a cotton pad to dress his wound properly. Though San had a confident look on his face, he could feel his heart skipped a beat at your confession. "Why so?" He asked, hopeful. Without lookinf up at him, you answered casually, "Because I don't like seeing you getting hurt like this," but even in that tone, San could sense that you were being genuine.

In all honesty, San teased you because he thought that was the only way he could get your attention. Sure he had hoped that the the spare glances you threw at him were actually sincerely from your heart but he can't convince himself that someone with a legitimate career like you would want to have anything to do with a bloodied bastard who beat people up for money. So San settled for the lowest expectation because that's what peope always expect of the underdog anyways. But your words were shaking his belief down like a stickhouse in an elephant stampede, which goes to show how strong San's resolve is towards you and it's bad. He was down bad. Part of him was glad that you seemed to want to keep an arm's length from him but part of him want to be in your lap at night, having your fingers card through his hair softly as you told him again and again how glad you were that he was able to come home in one piece. Because that's what he actually want, a home.

San's mind was snapped back into reality when he noticed you were snapping your fingers in front of his face and calling out his name. "San??" You called out again with furrowed eyebrows, "Shit, I think you're having a concussion," you muttered, moving your position so that his body was straight, facing forward. "Eh?" San blinked confusedly with a slightly tilted head, looking so much like Taco whenever you brought a jinggly toy near him. Thankfully you were too busy making sure San didn't have brain damage to blush and sputter, trying to do your job as best as you could for him. You situated yourself at a fair distance, not to close yet not too far and you put both of your hands between you and him and held out a finger each. "Can you see my fingers clearly?" With your best effort, you tried to suppress the fact that you were very much worried about him because it wasn't your time to show emotions and ended up having him worry over you instead. Looking at your fingers, San did a double take before his relaxed-confused look turned into disbelief-confused, "Are you flipping me off?" He scoffed. Almost immediately you let out a sigh of relief before straightening up and nodded, "I had to get a reaction out of you, you were mumbling about a parrot talking about chilli peppers when you were zoning out, I had to know if it was concussion or perhaps you took something."

Just as you were about to turn around to get a damp rag, San pulled you with his powerful strength, causing you to yelp and freeze when you realized that you had fell into a particularly compromising position. Your hands were on his strong, broad shoulders with your left leg bent and resting on the outside of San's right thigh and the other in between his spread legs while San had one hand on your wrist and the other on your waist with a confident, lazy smile on his face. God how much you want to wipe that grin off his face. With your own lips.

"Baby, why would I take drugs when a moment with you gets me high for days?" And of course he had to make your stomach flip by pecking you gently on the nose. Your breath hitched and a small squeak escaped from your clamped mouth, not knowing what to do other than stare at him with wide eyes. San seemed amused at how you reacted however, pulling away and leaning back against the couch with arms spread wide, the confident bastard.

For a moment you sputtered, eyes darting everywhere but San's face before remembering what you wanted to get merely moments ago. You somehow found the strength to stand on your two feet and turn to the kitchen but not before tripping on your feet slightly and almost falling. You didn't even have to turn to know that San was looking at you amusedly, delighting in how affected you were by him but this time it wasn't because he just wanted to see a reaction out of you. He was seeing you in the light of someone he had a chance of having normalcy with. So while you were cursing yourself for being a klutz, San was enjoying the domestic fantasy in his head.

That was until loud knocks were heard from your front door that was followed by a very familiar screeching voice that made Taco jump out and hiss at the direction.

"CHOI SAN YOU LITTLE BITCH YOU LEFT ME IN THE DUMPSTER!!"

So much for domestic peace.

network :

@cultofdionysusnet @kflixnet

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[monakisu]

akira can see ghosts horror-comedy AU in which he gets a moment alone to talk to the crooked woman always looming over goro and finds out she's not a malicious spirit but simply an overprotective, overly attached mother. mamakechi is just as petty and annoying as her son, but also a very very enthusiastic wingman.

[loviestyless]

Shadowed Starlight*

Summary: Odile Einar has one purpose: kill the fae king and prevent the prophecy from coming true. the only thing that stands in her way is their deep rooted history.

fantasy au! king harry x assassin oc

Warnings: murder, violence, blood, smut: dom!harry, thigh riding, choking, praise kink, breeding kink

The shrill echo of a sharpened sword dragging against concrete announced the arrival of the lone warrior, stirring the ripples of shadows curling through the throne room and fuelling the whispers of terror warning her not to venture further. Night followed in her wake as her bloodied weapon etched stars in the dark, marbled floor of the building built off nightmares, the very essence of her power rolling off her body as rage coursed through her bloodstream at the sight of the figure sat atop his throne. Waiting.

Dark stories of the High Fae surrounded the golden throne, the ornate and intricate paintings shone through the shadows - depicting the cruel suffering his ancestors had inflicted upon the unfortunate common folk of Eroda. Every war, every rebellion and every battle for power the royal bloodline had successfully won filled all four walls of the gigantic room - embellished with gold to serve as a reminder to the unfortunate souls unlucky enough to kneel before the king that they never stood a chance.

The Fae King draped himself casually atop the ancient throne, his shadows humming through the walls, clawing at their invisible shackles in an attempt to strangle the woman for approaching the King so brazenly. But he remained unbothered, a lazy smirk tugging at his lips as his emerald eyes soaked in her appearance. Everything about his demeanour was the least bit regal, as if he was merely a young prince playing up to a title, he would one day inherit, even his crown lay crooked atop his mess of curls. He maintained slouched against the throne while she approached, almost as if it burdened him to be cursed with such beauty his entire immortal life and the warrior scoffed at such petty vanity the King harboured.

But despite such a relaxed demeanour, the woman knew of the horrors that lay behind those gorgeous green eyes. This man was lethal, his shadows alone could smother the entire room in seconds, killing her instantly if she let her starlight dim under his watch.

Sweat and blood smeared across her dark skin, twinkling like stars as the rows of candles flickered in the breeze that swept through the building upon her entrance. Every slow, confident step forward made it harder for her to keep control of her power, tendrils of night eager to land a lethal strike.

"My, my, aren't you a sight for sore eyes." He purred, his sharp gaze dragging down her body to take in her blood-soaked armour with amusement. Swirls of shadows snaked their ways around his forearms, summoned silently by the King as a reminder of his potential power and to intimidate the Fae assassin refusing to bow at his feet.

It had been years since she had seen his face and as much as she hated to admit it, he still looked just as beautiful as when she'd left. His thick curls were shorter, no longer dusting the tops of his shoulders but sat messily atop his head in a way that emphasised his sharp jawline. Her brown eyes flared with specs of starlight as she forced herself not to succumb to his beauty - it was how she'd gotten tangled up in this mess in the first place and she couldn't afford to let him charm her again. Not when the fate of the entire kingdom rested upon her shoulders.

The shadow's whispers seemed to fall silent while the King taunted the warrior, waiting with bated breath for her to react to his cunning words.

"The little assassin returns." Harry mused softly. His legs swung over the arm of the chair so that he swivelled around to sit properly, his knees parted as he leaned forward with a sinister smirk. "I must admit, twenty years to seek out an oracle is a little excessive, is it not Odile?"

Every sentence that rolled off his tongue was meticulously planned, specifically chosen to tempt her into giving in to the rage he could see flowing through her bloodstream. The assassin felt her grip tighten around the handle of her weapon, a deep breath rattling her chest as she refused to let him affect her. The King chuckled lowly, emerald eyes darkening slightly they flickered over her body once more.

"And no babe in your arms, either." He mocked, shaking his head condescendingly as he stared at Odile's tense form, "What a wasted journey."

Odile fought the urge to stiffen at the reminder of the past, of her old self who was so foolishly naive and trusting in the Fae King that she wandered blindly into the forest twenty years ago seeking confirmation of a life she thought she wanted. But the answers she found were not what she expected. And judging by Harry's proud smirk, he too knew the prophecy that was handed to her instead - one that had changed her forever.

No longer was she a shy, timid woman that remained blindsided by the true extent of the King's powers. She was Eroda's assassin and she was here to kill the treacherous bastard that had reigned for far too long.

"Look at you, burning with rage." A deep chuckle rumbled in Harry's chest, only making Odile's power ripple with anger. Tendrils of night rolled off her body, inching their way closer to the throne where speckled starlight waited to strike the King's shadows. "I think I like this new you, it's more...enticing."

Honeyed words dripped off his tongue and Odile had to force herself to keep her eyes locked on his, resisting the urge to glance down at her feet under his intense glare. He knew exactly the right thing to say to charm people, to get them on his side and that was the exact reason she was in this position in the first place. But she refused to fall for it any longer, he was a brutal murderer and she wouldn't let him continue the vicious cycle for centuries to come. The prophecy would end here today. By her hand.

The Kingdom of Eroda shall fall by the hands of darkness if not stopped by the light. Centuries of bloodshed and corruption will end when stars and shadows join once more and create shadowed starlight. The palace will stand tall among the ashes, ready to rebuild a world that was lost to evil- a world where the stars will shine anew.

"You deserve to die for what you've done." Odile's voice was steady and confident, revenge dominating every inch of her body and making her eyes darken with deadly intent.

"What I've done?" Harry snickered lightly, no sense of remorse at all. "I think we should start with what you've done, darling."

The ripples of shadows swirling around his hands slowly drifted towards her, snaking their way around her feet and up her legs as the King took in her bloodied appearance. Crimson soaked her leather armour, splashed across her skin and drenched her locs but not a single drop of it was hers. Odile was untouched, unharmed and standing tense as the shadows settled around her neck - the ghost of Harry's touch taunting her with the possibility of what he could do.

A chill ran down her spine as her breath caught in her throat at the feeling of his power calling to hers, her inner starlight singing to the shadows and threatening to give in to him once more. She had felt these shadows brush against her skin many times before, but she refused to give in to their touch - not when the prophecy rang clear in her mind.

"Your governors are dead by my hand. They serve Hel now." She announced coldly, allowing her eyes to flare white with starlight so the King could see the threat she posed to his position on the throne - reminding him she was no longer the timid woman he knew twenty years ago. She felt his shadows squirm slightly as her power surged but the King remained relaxed. "You are next to join them."

"Well, you have been busy, haven't you?" He mused, sitting up straight in his throne and finally taking this seriously. It appeared the threat on his life was something to worry about.

No doubt he had heard whispers of the assassin rampaging through his lands the past two decades, training in the woods for the mission of a lifetime before hunting down every corrupt government official that served under the King. All of them were attacked when they least expected, brutally murdered and their bodies hung outside their houses as a warning to those that remained.

No longer would the poor be squeezed for every piece of copper they owned, no longer would the King's guards turn a blind eye to crime and no longer would the black-market fuel the underworld of illegal drugs and fighting rings. Eroda could go back to being the beautiful land, enriched with magic and beauty like the history books had once reported to the world.

All that was left was for the King to fall and the prophecy would be changed.

"I applaud you for your success, my darling. But I must address the little fault in your plan."

"If you intend to beg for your life then you underestimate my power." Odile's hand gripped the leather handle of her sword and carried a certain lightness in her feet as she prepared herself for the attack. Her best bet was to keep him talking, his ego was his downfall and all Odile had to do was catch him when his guard was down.

She was going to slit his throat where he sat and sit on the throne soaked with his blood as the Queen of Eroda - ready to rebuild the kingdom to its former glory.

"Not at all, Odile. I have always known what power you possess; you were just too blind to see it." His words were cocky, full of confidence that he shouldn't have in such a moment before his death. For many, it would be unnerving but for Odile it only made her all the more determined. "I simply intend to ask how you think the prophecy will play out when you kill your mate."

Odile felt her heart lurch at the reminder that the beautiful man in front of her was in fact her mate, the person fate decided was her other-half for all eternity - the person that completed her soul. When she had first met him twenty years ago, their bond snapped into place the moment their eyes locked and everything in her life seemed to fall into place. She was given a purpose, a lover and someone that mirrored her level of devotion.

Her love had blinded her from seeing what a despicable man Harry truly was, that was until the Oracle allowed her to see what she had been oblivious to the entire time. The bond still hummed within her, urging her to embrace his love after such time apart. The pining had almost driven her mad at first, unable to block out her power calling out to him at all hours of the day. Her magic needed him and his shadows needed hers. It would bring such pain to her heart to live on while her mate was killed - their bonded souls torn apart for the rest of eternity.

"You may be my mate and my husband, but I reject anything that binds me to such a cold-hearted leader as you. I would live with such pain knowing I had saved thousands from your blighted power."

Suddenly, bright starlight flooded the throne room, Odile's light bouncing off the golden accents of the entire room and blinding the King in an instant. His shadows recoiled with a hiss, leaving Harry unprotected long enough for the assassin to spring into action. One minute she was standing tall in front of the throne, the next she was straddling her mate's lap, pinning his shoulders against the back of the throne with the bloodied blade of her weapon digging uncomfortably into his neck.

Stars melted around them, revealing the rage filled warrior to the King so he could truly see her now. Honey brown eyes had darkened with anger, tendrils of night snaked up Harry's arms and pinned him in place so he could do little to overpower her.

Blood smeared against the King's face as Odile's left hand gripped his jaw, bringing her face so close to his that their lips almost touched.

Harry's pink lips curled upwards at the closeness of his wife, the twenty years of silent pining for her return finally silenced under her touch. Albeit because she was holding a sword to his throat and threatening his life. But he wasn't worried, he knew she still loved him dearly and had felt the same hollowness in her heart while she was away.

"I am not the man you think I am."

"It is your shadows the prophecy speaks of; you are the dark hands that have tainted this kingdom with corruption." She spat, starlight fizzling off her body and landing in sparks on the floor around her. Harry's eyes drifted down to glance at her lips before meeting her intense stare once again - he'd be lying if he said this new side to her wasn't turning him on.

"You are my lover and with your death Eroda will finally be free."

"I have protected this kingdom for five-hundred years, darling. You truly haven't worked it out yet, have you? We're supposed to save Eroda together. Why do you think I sent you out to the Oracle that day?"

No matter how much she tried to hide her confusion at her mate's words, there was little she could do to suppress the frown that tugged at her brows.

Harry had not sent her to seek out an Oracle, she had done that herself. She had thought she was pregnant and went to ask for confirmation that she was carrying the future heir to Eroda's throne. Secrecy was key if she truly was with child, the last thing she wanted was for rival kingdoms finding out and putting her and her baby's lives in danger. Odile hadn't even mentioned anything to her maid before she slipped out of the palace under the cover of darkness - how Harry had found out she had no idea.

"I never told you I thought I might be pregnant. You didn't send me anywhere."

"You think those books about royal bloodlines just appeared on my nightstand out of nowhere? You think the fact you overheard the royal reports about an Oracle causing havoc in the forest was a coincidence?" Harry's demeanour shifted for the first time since Odile had returned, no longer teasing her but completely serious. "I planted that idea into your head, Odile. I knew what the Oracle would tell you and I needed you to hear it. Because you held the power to save Eroda."

Harry shifted slightly under Odile's thighs, straining against her power and glancing down at the sword pressed against his neck uncomfortably.

"Darling, you already saved us. The darkness has been eradicated." Harry explained softly, making Odile's restraints falter long enough for him to free his hands, his warm touch ghosting her thighs as he rubbed them slowly. "Please, put the sword down.

"Y-you're the darkness. You rule over the kingdom, it's your fault corruption has plagued these lands. This room itself lays testament to the centuries of pain you and your family have inflicted on people."

"Odile, I've always wanted to be different from my ancestors, it sickens me to be surrounded by the monstrosities they carried out under my family name. I have dreamt of a kingdom that was filled with magic and laughter since I was a boy but that was not the plan of my father. He changed the laws of the council so I would not influence their decisions over my people, I became a King by title but with no power." Harry's voice carried a sense of vulnerability within it that Odile had only ever heard when she was with him. To others he maintained an air of arrogance within himself but with her, he was completely different. "I sought out the Oracle two hundred years ago, hoping for a way to save Eroda and that is when I learnt of the prophecy. Of you."

Odile's mind was reeling. She had spent twenty years with only the words that the Oracle had told her to understand the gravity of the situation thrust upon her. She had asked for an explanation, some kind of guidance but little was given outside the prophecy recounted throughout history. Hate had been forced to fester in her heart towards her husband - her mate - and that kind of pain was almost impossible to cope with.

"How can I believe you?"

Harry's lips twitched upwards slightly with a coy smirk, his eyes darkening in the way Odile recognised far too well. His touch grew stronger against her thighs, trailing closer to the place he knew she wanted him but was too stubborn to admit. He could sense her arousal from the moment she'd straddled his lap, no doubt fighting the memories of being in such a position countless times before.

"Because you're my mate and I know in your heart you feel this is right." Harry whispered lowly, leaning in slightly so that his lips ghosted against hers. The sharp blade of her sword dug harder into his skin, no doubt leaving a mark but he didn't care, not when he finally got to touch his mate after pining for her these past twenty years.

Odile gasped slightly in surprise as his lips finally met hers, warmth flooding through her body as she let her husband kiss her with as much love as he physically could. Their lips moved in sync together, the blade at Harry's throat slipping slightly as Odile let her focus drift to how perfect this moment felt. Her heart was thumping erratically in her chest, finally at peace after being torn apart by such distance for so long.

Misted shadows curled around the pair, ghosting touches along Odile's soft neck in a way that made her moan in anticipation while Harry's palms continued to tease the tops of her thighs, occasionally brushing her warm arousal over the top of her fighting leathers. Gods, she'd missed this. No matter how much she'd tried to hate him the last twenty years, she'd always drift into the land of dreams where his touch would be waiting for her. She'd dream of riding his cock once more, hearing his grunts of pleasure ring into the night as she pleasured herself until years of pining was eventually satisfied.

"Look at you, giving in so easily. I knew you'd see sense." Lustful amusement hung off every word that escaped Harry's lips. "Let me fuck you, baby. Ride my cock and claim your throne."

And then it suddenly hit Odile - this was what the prophecy had spoken of this entire time.

The Kingdom of Eroda shall fall by the hands of darkness if not stopped by the light.

She had been the one to murder the corrupt governors and her starlight had sung her victory every time. Nobody was left to rule over the kingdom and so the laws were now irrelevant, all power was now reinstated to the crown. Harry was free to be the ruler that Eroda had desperately needed for thousands of years.

Centuries of bloodshed and corruption will end when stars and shadows join once more and create shadowed starlight.

Odile had previously thought it meant the final death must be Harry's, a final test to eradicate the plague of shadows over the kingdom before she could build Eroda from scratch. But with how things were currently playing out, it appeared to be referencing the passions of reunited lovers, perhaps about to conceive the first heir to the new world she had secured for the future.

The palace will stand tall among the ashes, ready to rebuild a world that was lost to evil- a world where the stars will shine anew.

The loud clatter of metal against marble echoed about the throne room as the weapon finally tumbled from Odile's grasp to rest at the foot of the throne. Harry groaned in relief, rolling his head back slightly to stretch his neck out now he was no longer restricted, the harsh red mark of the blade standing prominent against his skin. Odile's hands cupped her lover's cheeks, smashing her lips into his as she ground her hips into his with a breathy moan as she gave in to her desire.

This was what she wanted, just her and Harry reunited once more and ready to rule Eroda by each other's side.

"Make me your Queen, Harry." She panted breathlessly, barely pulling apart from the King as she spoke her final demand. "Knock me up, give yourself an heir."

Harry's eyes darkened as his powers rumbled with desire, a lustful smirk appearing on his lips as he took in Odile's demands - his mind running rampant with all the possible ways to pleasure his mate after so long apart. He'd dreamed of the day he'd once more feel her wet cunt around his heavy cock, gorgeous tits bouncing in his face while her screams of pleasures rang out through the entire palace.

"You gonna be my good girl, yeah?" He breathed out, hands already trailing upwards to claim her body as his. Brushing her long, bloodied locs over her shoulder, Harry's lips met the exposed skin of her neck, sucking gently as his palms squeezed her heavy breasts. Odile squirmed in his lap in desperate need of some friction against her aching core, revelling in the feeling of her mate's hard cock brushing against her cunt through the layers of clothing in the way. "Bet you're dripping for me, aren't you?"

Odile whimpered at Harry's voice so deep and oozing with seduction, frantically nodding in agreement as she felt his hand slip down the waistband of her leather pants to confirm what he already knew. A soft hum of satisfaction vibrated against her skin as Harry continued to mark up her neck, his fingers toying with her wet folds while Odile was rendered breathless with desire. Speckled starlight flickered from her fingers as she tugged at her husband's curls, head tipping back slightly as she allowed him to take his claim over her body.

Her mind was a blur, uncontrollable whimpers escaped her lips as she rocked against Harry's fingers - chasing the pleasure that was already building in her core.

"Undress, Odile." The King's demand was clear, his fingers quickly removed from Odile's trousers as he pulled back to watch her carefully. The assassin let out a frustrated groan as the building wave subsided, her fingers desperately tearing at her leathers to obey her husband's instructions. The quicker she acted, the better behaved she was, the sooner she'd get to ride his cock. "Need you naked on my lap."

The moment her top hit the floor, Harry's eyes flicked downwards to take in her bare breasts, free from blood and tempting him with their perfection. He watched silently as they bounced slightly as Odile unbuttoned her trousers, lifting her hips off of Harry slightly so she could pull them off completely - exposing her naked cunt for him to admire. Ripples of shadows snaked up her body, teasing her hard nipples before settling around her pretty neck, waiting for the command to choke her just the way she liked and Odile let out a soft moan in anticipation, knowing Harry was going to fuck her senseless at any moment.

"Look at you, my pretty Queen." He hummed softly, dark emerald eyes sweeping over Odile's naked body as if he was committing it to memory.

"If I am your Queen, I shall need a crown." Odile stated boldly, her hands already gripping the golden halo framing her husband's curls and lifting it from his head. A subtle moan rumbled deep in his chest as he watched her place his crown atop her locs.

His cock stiffened even more in the confines of his trousers at the sight of his wife wearing nothing but the golden crown on her head, desire overtook him and he knew he couldn't drag this out like he'd originally planned.

"Now fuck me, my King. Show me how much you missed me." Odile gripped Harry's jaw, her brown eyes locked onto his green with such intent in an attempt to get him to submit. But that was not Harry, he did not submit to anyone - not even his mate. He smirked playfully as she felt his shadows squeeze her neck, restricting the air just enough to make her head go the perfect amount of fuzzy.

"You want my cock, then take it, sweetheart. It's all yours." Settling back against his ornate throne, he watched as Odile set to work unbuttoning his trousers and freeing his length from the confines of his pants. She didn't care he was still fully clothed, all she cared about was finally getting to fuck her mate after years of pining after this exact moment.

He hissed softly as she took him in her hand, tugging slowly at his cock just enough to tease him with pleasure as she ground her pussy against his thick thigh. Wetness seeped into the material of his trousers, leaving a patch of arousal as she continued to get herself off before taking what she really wanted. Breathless pants filled the air as the pair of them got lost in pleasure, blurts of precome collected on the dark skin of Odile's hand like sparkling pearls while Harry's shadows created a necklace of darkness around her pure neck.

Harry's mouth suddenly enveloped Odile's left nipple, teeth grazing softly over her skin as he sucked at her breast perfectly positioned in front of her face. The rhythm of her hips became uneven as she whimpered with sensitivity, already feeling herself hurtling towards the edge after such a long time of nothing.

"H-Harry..."

Stars and shadows snaked around the throne as both their powers were released from its confines, the bond between them growing the further Harry and Odile fell into their pleasure and healing their shattered souls.

"So, close, sweetheart. Such a good girl f'me." Harry mumbled breathlessly, obviously struggling just as much as his wife to last much longer. "Come on my thigh, darling. Let go."

And that was all it took for her to tumble over the edge, hips stilling as she came all over Harry's thigh. Her head tipped back as a loud moan escaped her lips, bright stars filling the room and almost blinded Harry as he watched her gorgeous features scrunch up in pleasure - a sight he had only dreamed of for twenty years. His own release followed almost instantly, spurting up his clothed torso as Odile's pretty moans filled his ears like his favourite melody.

"Fuck-" He choked on his own moans, unable to talk properly as he struggled to stop his power from clouding his mind and rendering him completely speechless. "Perfect girl, so perfect, sweetheart."

Slumped against her husband's body, Odile peppered gentle kisses along his exposed, sweaty collarbones - delicate fingers trailing over the inked swallows that were left on display after the material had fallen open in all the pleasure.

"Made a mess all over me." He chuckled lightly, running his hand over her thighs as he took in the wetness on his trousers. Instead of blushing with embarrassment, Odile simply raised her hand that was covered in her husband's come and made a show of licking it up with a satisfied smirk. The sight of her tongue dragging along the back of her hand, savouring the taste of his release made Harry's cock twitch once more as he felt himself grow half hard with every lick.

"And you." She hummed, "Just as desperate, darling. You're not kidding anyone."

Her hips began to grind against his both of them still sensitive to touch but neither caring. Odile needed to sit on Harry's cock and feel him fill her up for the rest of eternity - she'd been empty for too long and now she needed to satisfy her hunger.

Taking him in her hand once more, Odile lifted herself up just enough to position him at her entrance. Hungry eyes watched her eagerly as Harry waited for the bliss of feeling her tightness envelope him completely - both of them sighing with pleasure as their hips joined once more.

Shadows curled around Odile's wrists, forcing them upwards so that her hands tangled in Harry's messy curls in a silent demand before settling around her neck to choke her. Her head was spinning with lust at the feeling of Harry's power constricting the amount of air she could take in, all while revelling in being full to the brim with his aching cock. Their lips smashed together, tongues dancing in each other's mouths as she began to ride her husband with an eager rhythm, hands tugging at his curls just as the King liked it. Deep moans escaped his lips, filling the air as his hands gripped her butt tightly, helping her to grind harder against him for both their pleasure.

"So tight, so wet, sweetheart." Harry panted into the kiss, bucking up into her pussy to hit the sweet spot inside her. "Missed this perfect cunt."

"Harder, make me scream!" Odile pleaded as a dull ache settled in her thighs with all the effort it was taking to ride his cock with such energy. She needed him to take her, to fuck her so hard she saw stars and he was more than happy to oblige - but not without a little teasing first.

"Knew you wouldn't kill me, darling." He chuckled slowly in between trailing sloppy kisses along her collarbone towards her heavy breasts. His thumb teased her clit, rubbing slow circles to add to the building tension at her core that made her such a moaning mess. "Need my cock too bad, don't you?"

A sharp snap of his hips timed perfectly with her hips bouncing down on his cock filled her even deeper, causing a loud moan to echo about the room unexpectedly, only proving Harry right.

"Who else would fuck you this good, leave you screaming like I can?" He smirked against Odile's skin as her sounds of pleasure continued to ring out across the room, allowing his shadows to ghost over every inch of her body and enhance every delicate touch he was giving her. "You'd miss the warmth of my cock for all eternity."

"Uh-huh, you. Only you, baby." She replied breathlessly, unable to focus properly as her hips began to stutter. Sweat sparkled like glitter on her dark skin, making her appear like starlight itself, all gorgeous and addictive. Harry's cock ached at the sight, his chest heaving with desire as he let his shadows tangle with the stars rippling from her body, both their releases rapidly approaching with little warning.

"Look at you, so full of me." The King grunted with each powerful thrust upwards, his fingers digging into her hips so hard as he helped guide her cunt onto his cock there was no doubt bruises would be left in their wake. "Taking me like a good girl."

"All yours, belong to you!" Odile whimpered, her vision going blurry as she was practically blinded by the tight coil of pleasure that was threatening to explode at any second. With Harry's shadows wrapped tightly around her neck, his sharp thrusts timed perfectly to hit her g-spot and his ghosted touch on her clit, the woman could barely sit up straight - her forehead resting on Harry's shoulder for support as he helped her reach her peak.

"Harry-" Her moan was immediately cut off by another sharp thrust from Harry's hips, the King recognising all the signs that she was seconds from toppling over the edge. Her hips bucked frantically as she chased the rising feeling in her core, heavy pants filling the air between them as the pair turned animalistic in chasing their high.

"I know, sweetheart. Come for me darling." Harry demanded; his voice thick with lust as he felt ready to burst. "Soak my cock, milk me dry."

Shadowed starlight tore through the room as pleasure peaked in perfect waves, slamming into the walls and crumbling the dark paintings into tiny pieces. Their pleasured moans mixed together in a delightful tune as they rode out their highs, Odile collapsing into Harry's arms as her body felt weak after such a powerful orgasm. Soft kisses were pressed against her sweaty forehead as Harry's soft touch rubbed her shoulder soothingly.

Wrapped up in each other's warmth, with his cock still buried deep within his mate, Harry finally felt the peace he'd dreamt of since taking the throne five hundred years ago.

Centuries of terror and bloodshed was over. It was time to start anew.

[looptroupe]

HI GORGEOUS!!!!

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE TELL US ABOUT YOUR WIPS AND AUS IM REALLY INTERESTED 🙏🙏🙏

Foams at the mouth

I’m in the middle of writing up a whole HC post for someone asking about a highschool AU but I’m gonna take this opportunity to sidetrack the conversation towards something I’d love to genuinely see from the series… a HEAVY (film) noir lean. Think: Bogart, Framed, Gilda, Vertigo… probably pushing the era back 40’s, 50’s way (Maybe even some 30’s lean in there, if I could get away with it) instead of the general 60’s vibe Lupin has going for it.

I think there’s a TON of potential there. I mean, I’m aware something like this was pitched (and never picked up, sigh…) so there IS sentiment there, and the idea has been thought about, but instead of TWCFM’s ‘serious Lupin’ I’d love to see a true noir ‘serious Lupin’. I think you can put these characters into a serious setting without making them straight up evil, and I’ll be honest, I think it would be way more appealing than the stuff they’ve been releasing lately (besides Zero. I have to admit that I loved Zero).

I’d want the gang to actually feel like criminals, though. Cutting shady deals in illegal bars, Lupin running his mouth to big players about whatever new heist he has up his sleeve. I’d take them back to being Miyazaki-esque ‘living paycheck-to-paycheck’ rather than ‘insta-rich Lupin funding his hedonistic spirit’ because I think that would work better in this universe: Lupin is constantly getting them in hot shit with the big leagues because he can’t keep his mouth shut. Jigen has shot ten guys this week who have come knocking at their hideout’s door looking for trouble. Goemon’s sick of digging graves and is antsy to finally be who he dreams of being. Fujiko’s got her eyes on a bigger prize, like always.

Zenigata’s an underpaid beat-cop-turned-inspector who has been trying to climb the ranks for a long while. He’s ambitious, but a little too soft for his own good: he’s hopeful in a way that most of the guys in his squad aren’t, and that makes him the perfect candidate for when the commissioner has to shill a shitty 9-5 case on an unsuspecting worker. A file lands on his desk, and he flips through it with this eager fire, like he’s just been asked to take on the world, and Lupin and his gang smile up at him from the pages.

Lupin is a crook, he learns. Part-time petty thief, full-time smooth-talker: a man with a legacy to live up to and not a whole lot to show for it besides a reputation as a lady-killer and a particularly long unpaid tab at the seediest bar in town. His sticky fingers have landed him in more trouble than they’ve gotten him out of, and recent reports say that he’s managed to get under the skin of the most notorious once-criminal-now-film-director in town… the very criminal that underhandedly paid Zenigata’s boss to start an official investigation in the first place.

Jigen is a gun-for-hire. Babysitter, bodyguard, hitman… whatever you need, he’ll do, however begrudgingly. He’s not a guy you mess with: and his reputation is actually pretty good in criminal circles. He’s well-respected and well-liked. Or, he was, until the monkey-faced man at the bar implicated him in a crime he didn’t commit. Now, he’s babysitting without pay, and he’s starting to get a little sick of having to put bullets into the faces of old friends who decide his bounty is worth more than his loyalty. Figures.

Goemon’s a man slightly-less-out-of-time. A famous Japanese-American film star, he’s known world-over for starring in Samurai flicks alongside his leading lady, Fujiko Mine. The thing is, Goemon is classically trained in swordslinging, and when Lupin offers him an opportunity to be the very person he’s been portraying on screen, he’s more than happy to throw his reputation away. He never cared much for fame, anyway. There’s just this one little hitch: he’s enamoured with the sword he last used on set, and he won’t take no for an answer when he asks Lupin to retrieve it for him.

Fujiko has her eyes on a prize a little more exciting than Zantetsuken: the film empire she’s helped build herself. The tabloids can’t get enough of her, and she knows that a marriage to the most famous director the world has ever seen might just secure her a place in history. The thing is, the man she’s trying her best to seduce has stopped paying her attention since his beloved priceless-antique-turned-prop-sword went missing, and she’s determined to get it back for him. Because what would make him fall quicker? Ah, there’s just one catch: Lupin is kind of charming, and the life he’s living is… exciting. Tempting. Fujiko likes playing with fire, but she’s starting to get a little too close to this one particular flame. The heat has her cheeks burning… Or maybe that’s Goemon’s doing.

They’re a strange little bunch, the Lupin Gang. But man, do people have a habit of underestimating them. Zenigata included. Because what he thinks to be a simple case of theft soon turns into something more sinister as the layers of movie-magic veneer begin to peel away. Maybe Lupin was onto something, targeting this guy, and maybe this hotshot director isn’t quite as reformed as he says he is.

He went to court recently, after all. Say, how much did he pay the judge to overturn that guilty verdict? Zenigata would like that sum as a pay rise once this has all blown over. That, and some fresh smokes.

((Mmm someone should hop on board and help me develop this I think. Could be a fun little exercise on the side… if it’s up anyone’s alley >:) ))

[ugh-yoongi]

the dogs of war | ksj

pairing: seokjin x reader

genre: politician au, lite enemies to lovers; crack, fluff

warnings: use of US political positions & terms, swearing, bickering, alcohol, a lot of bad jokes, unedited because i think i've kept these requests waiting long enough. if there's anything glaringly bad, though, lmk.

wordcount: 2.3k

had a few seokjin requests in my inbox from the valentine's day drabbles, so i decided to combine them into one fic:

bare — as they get undressed, the sender gently places a soft, tender kiss against the receiver’s bare shoulder.

"i really don't know if this is a yes."

"you need to stop doing that." / "do what?" / "that little eye thing you do when i walk into the room."

You’re not even sure what this gala is for.

The hospital? No, the last one (two?) had been for the hospital. Needed pretty, important people to dress up in pretty, expensive clothes to raise money for their new wing (board members’ salaries). You know it’s not for the police union, because you wouldn’t be caught dead at one of those, and you’re almost certain the gala for the animal shelter was the one you’d shown up late to last week.

So, yeah—you’re stumped.

Not that it really matters. You’ve fulfilled the requirements and paid the ticket price. Poured yourself into a dress that is, admittedly, a size too small; a dress you will probably have to cut yourself out of later on. Got your hair and makeup and nails done real nice. Rented jewelry three times your annual salary. There isn’t a person in this place that has taken dress pretty, look prettier more seriously than you.

Well, until.

“You need to stop doing that.”

You roll your eyes. Pluck a flute of champagne off a passing waiter’s tray and down it in one go. “Stop doing what?”

“That little eye thing you do when I walk into the room,” Seokjin answers, crooked fingers moving to work at his stupid bowtie. “You can’t possibly expect to be the best-looking person in every room, especially when we’re forced to attend the same events.”

You huff. Privately, because you’d be better off dying than letting Seokjin know he’s successful at getting under your skin. “I can and I do.”

“Well, we all have a tragic flaw.”

“What’s yours, then?”

“Let me rephrase: most of us have a tragic flaw. Not me, though.”

There’s still forty minutes until dinner. Forty minutes until you will once again be forced to sit next to Seokjin and watch as he effortlessly charms the entire table. Watch as people foolishly trip over themselves to get on his good side, laughing at his stupid jokes, complimenting his perfectly-styled hair and his flawless skin and his suits that cost far too much money for a person who claims to be a socialist.

“I’m voting no on your most recent proposal, by the way. Figured I’d get that out of the way early.”

Seokjin sputters, chokes on a hors d'oeuvre someone had probably bent over backwards to hand-deliver to him on a little plate. “What? Why? I specifically wrote in all those stupid provisions you requested.”

“I’ve changed my mind.”

“Fuck you,” he whispers, “I spent months—”

“That’s politics, baby.”

“You’re gonna be the only one,” he accuses, borderline seething, as if you don’t already know this. “Min Yoongi and Jung Hoseok are finally on board, so you’re gonna be the lone dissenter. Might be really embarrassing for you.”

“It won’t be,” you assure him. You might be petty and spiteful (you are in politics, after all) but you’re not an idiot (you are in politics, after all, so maybe that’s not true). “Section nine, subsection twelve. That’s my get out of jail free card.”

“That’s the proposed redistricting map. The one you wanted.”

You offer up a smile, pinch at Seokjin’s cheek. “Exactly, and you spelled one of my town’s names wrong. Therefore, I cannot, in good conscience, vote for it. What would my constituents say?”

“You’re tanking this entire thing over a typo? I’ll call Namjoon right now and have him fix it.”

“The Namjoon that’s currently at the open bar going shot-for-shot with Jimin? Looks a little green? Good luck. At least I hired a Chief of Staff who can hold their liquor.”

Steam practically pours out of his ears. He certainly looks to be on the verge of a mental break, what with the angry flush that’s taken over his entire upper body. “Have you forgotten we’re on the same side here? What happened to party loyalty?”

“Oh, Seokjinnie,” you intone, “there’s no loyalty in gerrymandering.”

He scoffs. Grabs so forcefully at his own flute of champagne that he knocks the poor waiter completely off-center. Now he has no flutes of champagne and the floor has ten.

If looks could kill, this would be your funeral instead of whatever this gala is for.

As luck would have it, you do get seated next to Seokjin.

He’s usually the life of the party. Is usually cracking jokes left and right, wrapping every laterally-important person around his finger. He’s always the first person everyone looks to for a reaction—if he laughs, it’s all good; if his jaw clenches, everyone treads lightly. Either his phone or his checkbook is always out, but tonight there’s nothing more than the proverbial storm cloud over his head.

“I worked on that for months,” he tells you for the fifth time in the span of an hour. “I cannot believe you.”

You take a delicate bite of your dinner. Smile for the camera that leaves stars behind your eyes when the flash goes off. “Uh-huh.”

“This is just so typical,” he continues, seemingly uncaring who can hear him. “I bend over backwards to give you whatever you want, and you stab me in the back the first chance you get. You’re no better than the Roman senate.”

“You want me to start calling you Seok-julius? I’ll be honest, it sounds pretty bad, but if that’s what you’re into...”

“Fuck you,” he says again. “You’re a traitor of the highest degree.”

Jimin shoots you a concerned look. You respond with a roll of your eyes and mime throwing back a drink. Jimin responds with an eye-roll of his own, jerking his head in Namjoon’s direction, then he nods. Him, too, he mouths, then promptly turns his attention back to the older woman beside him whose husband is the head of some important committee. Thank god Jimin’s here to do all your schmoozing for you (and that he can hold his liquor).

“You’re the worst.”

“Okay, Seokjin.”

“I’m getting another drink. Do you want anything?” You stare at him in disbelief, blinking slowly. “I don’t know if that’s a yes.”

“It definitely isn’t. Haven’t you drank enough?”

“No,” comes his immediate response. “My current level of inebriation is disproportionate to the amount of suffering you have bestowed upon me this evening.”

“I don’t know if that’s true. Your eyes are all glassy and your face is really red. I’ve certainly retaken the lead in the best-looking contest—”

“You are insufferable.” Then, because the alcohol has loosened his lips and he can’t seem to help himself, he says, “You are always the best-looking person in any room. Fuck, I need another drink. Namjoonie, get me another drink, please. I regret to inform you I am, in fact, too drunk to leave this table.”

Inexplicably, Namjoon looks at you. Looks like a deer in headlights, but turns to you nonetheless, and you feel your jaw drop. “No,” you tell him, “I’m not dealing with him. He’s your chief.”

“But it’s your fault he’s this drunk,” Namjoon argues, because he’s a shithead who majored in pre-law in undergrad. “He won’t make it to the big speech, at this rate.”

“What are you, five? Then take him home,” you hiss. This is rapidly spiraling out of control. Seokjin, at Level Zero Inebriation, would never compliment you, so he must be very far gone to concede the best-looking title to you.

It makes your stomach hurt.

Jimin’s still busy charming the pants off the committee wife. Min Yoongi and Jung Hoseok are deep in conversation and only loyal to one another, so they’ll be no help. You could probably wrestle Seokjin’s phone out of his hands to call one of his lesser staff members, perhaps his driver, but he’d almost certainly cause a scene. Start squawking at you in that tone of his that’s liable to break sound barriers, and that’s the last thing you need.

So, with all the decorum you can muster, you shove the last forkful of risotto in your mouth and fire off a text to your own driver.

Ten minutes, comes the response.

You show the text to Jimin, who merely nods and tells you good luck. You hate that you’re going to need it.

You don’t know how much Seokjin weighs, but you’re certain eighty-percent of it is in his shoulders.

Thankfully Jungkook, your driver, is much more buff and far less considerate than you are, because he’d just thrown Seokjin over his shoulder and deposited him on your couch, uncaring of his protests and warnings of impending vomit.

“Not my house, not my problem,” was his response.

“Wow, rude,” was yours.

Before anything else, you fetch a bucket and a sleeve of crackers. “Eat up,” you tell Seokjin, who unsurprisingly gives you the finger in turn. “Very mature. Don’t forget you’re only here as the result of your own actions.”

Seokjin mimics you under his breath, and you have half a mind to dump a glass of water on him. But he looks so… helpless. Simultaneously green in the face and pale, looking far from the man with the million-dollar skincare routine; suit rumpled, jacket thrown carelessly over the arm of the couch, shoes untied but still on his feet. You don’t have any pets because you’re never home and are woefully inept of taking care of anything, but something about Seokjin in this moment kicks some long-forgotten nurturing gene into high gear.

So you fetch some water and a blanket. Busy yourself making coffee, because it’s not even nine p.m. and you’re usually never home before midnight, let alone tucked into bed. And those stupid gala entrees are small, so you rummage through your kitchen for something to snack on.

“Did you make enough coffee for two?” you hear from the living room.

“Yeah,” you call back. “How do you take it?”

“Preferably not from my sworn enemy’s kitchen, but I suppose I’ll have to make an exception.”

“I’m gonna spit in it,” you tell him. An overexaggerated gag comes from his direction.

“Never mind. Can I take a shower?”

If you thought getting him out of the car and in the front door had been difficult, it’s nothing compared to helping him into the shower.

Which you shouldn’t even be doing, considering he’s insistent on not showering in his briefs but also isn’t capable of undressing himself, so it all feels clandestine. Now the two of you are crammed in the bathroom attached to the guest room—the one with the bog standard shampoo and conditioner and body wash, because you don’t trust Seokjin not to pour all your expensive stuff down the drain out of spite.

“Help me help you,” you beg, righting him for the nth time. It’s those goddamn shoulders of his. He’s too top-heavy; makes him susceptible to tipping over sideways into the wall.

“Can’t,” he responds. Barely manages to pop the button on his suit pants before he tips into the wall again.

A frustrated groan escapes you. You’ll never get him into the shower at this rate, and you really want to eat that snack. Not to mention the coffee’s going to get all bitter and gross if you leave it in the carafe too long. “You’re really inconveniencing me, you know that?”

“Sorry.”

You huff, turn him forcefully so he’s facing you. Start working at the buttons of his dress shirt. Tom Ford. Black silk. Probably cost a fortune, because it’s also been perfectly tailored to accentuate his waist, which is… not great for your mental well-being. Doesn’t help that his heady cologne is still stubbornly clinging onto the fabric.

“Did you mean what you said earlier?”

“You’re gonna have to be more specific,” he answers. “I say a lot of things. Don’t usually mean most of them, no.”

“Definitely a politician, then.”

He sighs. Tips his head back, puts that horrible neck on full display. You cover your whimper with a cough. “I thought it best not to fight the inevitable,” he says. “I’m charming. People want to give me things. Might as well use my powers for good.”

“Yeah, sure,” you reply distractedly. Only three buttons left. Thank god he’s wearing an undershirt. “Makes sense.”

“Well, I try to. Hard to do that when someone votes against the proposals I’ve spent months drafting.”

“Uh-huh. Hey, turn around, I think your shirt’s caught on something in the back.”

Seokjin obliges. Blocks your view of your bathroom with his giant shoulders. You’re so glad he can’t see the look on your face, because it’s already pretty pathetic, but then he says, “I did mean what I said, though. About you.” He clears his throat, the flush creeping up his neck again. “Being pretty.”

Your hands tremble as you get his shirt unstuck. As you untuck it from his pants and push it off his shoulders. As you fold it carefully and place it on the counter. As you see a scar on his shoulder and trace your fingers over it. “What’s this from?”

“Assassination attempt,” Seokjin deadpans.

“Can’t imagine why anyone would want to murder you.”

“Me neither.” Then, quieter: “Got it when I fell out of a tree.”

“How old were you?”

“Nineteen.”

You snort your laughter, feeling a little brave with Seokjin’s back to you. “You really think I’m pretty?” you ask, and when he nods again, you throw caution to the wind entirely.

Press onto the tips of your toes. Press a soft kiss to the scar on Seokjin’s shoulder. Smile again at the soft gasp that escapes him, the way he tips over again and expects to bang into the wall, except you’ve turned him all around so there’s nothing to catch him. He tries grabbing onto the shower curtain but it’s hopeless, so he goes toppling into the tub.

“You’re really falling for me, huh?” you ask, extending your hand to help him up. He’s groaning in pain, but he takes it anyway, pulling you in with him. Can’t say you didn’t expect it. Seokjin’s a shithead before he’s anything else.

His arms snake around your waist immediately. “If I say yes, will you change your vote on my proposal?”

“I guess we’ll see.”

[b4mpyre-k1zz3s]

Dating Vampire!Bam HC’s! + Fic

Bam Margera X Gn!Reader

Warnings: Suggestive content, crude language, jealousy, unwanted flirting, biting, blood, petty disagreements

An: I had this idea a while ago and I’m sort of seeing if anyone would want to see more content for Vampire!Bam. I am also using this to test interest in a more extensive Au for the guys, so let me know if you would be into that!! If you were wondering why this is coming out outside of my usual upload schedule, today is actually my birthday, so consider this a very self indulgent present to myself ;)

Normally, dating a vampire would be a dream come true to you. You could even get past the Not going out during the day and the whole drinking blood thing because, in your eyes, the positives outweighed the negatives

But unfortunately, while your boyfriend was a vampire, he was also Bam Margera.

The sleeping arrangements were probably your biggest complaint

Even though vampires are classically night owls, Bam would still cuddle up to you at night while you fell asleep because A: he had a job to be up for the next day and B: he was a good boyfriend

But the next morning there about an eighty percent chance you find him hanging upside down up in the rafters.

“Bam! Not again!”, You groaned. It was always such a pain to try to get him down

Speaking of jobs, his Jackass career wasn’t all that disrupted by the fact he wasn’t, you know, human. I mean, he was already pretty damn pale and he stayed up late most nights partying anyways

Whenever you were on set with him and they needed to film any water stunts outside, he’d always be sitting off to the side in his sunglasses and trunks, lathering up in SPF 500

“Hey, Y/N. Think y’could get my back for me?” Since you were more than eager for an excuse to feel up his muscles, you jumped at the opportunity

And of course Bam would thank you with a hug, finding it hilarious how angry you got when he messed up your clothes

But if there was one thing that entertained you to no end was how passionately your boyfriend hated vampire drama shows,

Especially Buffy.

Still, you would spend your weekends on the couch hate-watching it with him, laughing at every groan or eye roll from him

“I’m just sayin’- if I was there,” Bam picked a popcorn kernel out of his fangs, “I would rather starve than drink from an otter. I’d sooner suck on Steve’s neck than that thing!” Snickering, you gave him an ‘oh sure’ nod, turning back to watch the tv

Another perk of dating a vampire was the scary dog privileges you got whenever you went out to bars together

Bam was always pretty possessive of you, but he could be downright territorial

So while your boyfriend wasn’t one to go around flaunting it, he had no problem pulling you close by your waist and flashing that impressive set of fangs at whatever creep was annoying you at the bar

But those fangs- god, he could not keep them off of you!

No matter if Bam was hungry or wanted your attention or was just plain bored, he always had some excuse to get his mouth on you,

All day, Bam had been getting on your nerves so you decided it was time to put your foot down. “Nope.” Crossing your arms, you turned away from your boyfriend, “I’m not letting you today.” He was confused at your reaction- okay, maybe he didn’t ask you first, but wasn’t the ten minutes he spent kissing and licking your neck enough? Nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck which was already full of hickeys, he murmured “C’monn…”

Bam’s lips made a popping sound as they left your neck after you pulled him off by his hair, “I’m serious!” Groaning like a child who didn’t get what they wanted, he sat back, “Fine…S’not like I need it to survive or anything…” His resistance lasted for about five minutes until you heard his stomach growl.

Begrudgingly at first, Bam mumbled, “M’sorry.” After another five minutes went by, he saw you didn’t relent as quickly as he though you would and Bam was all too eager to grovel, pushing aside his pride. “Okay, I was being a dick earlier! I’m sorry! Just- please?” His neediness pleased you and, unable to resist from cracking a smile, you waved him over with one hand. Your all too excited boyfriend just pounced on you! Clinging to your side, Bam cuddled up to you as he eagerly sucked from your neck in total bliss, moaning softly. You didn’t mind that much when he bit you, but you were kinda curious as to how he would react to being told no (for once in his life). After he had his fill, the only sounds in the room were his occasional hiccups as he lay next to you, content. Reaching over to him, you ran your fingers through his dark curls, thinking about how pretty he was when his mouth wasn’t ruining everything.

[jessicas-pi]

📙 📕 please?

OOOO ok since you sent two I'm gonna give you two AUs--a short one and a long one!

the short AU idea is one I call Hi, You've Reached The New Republic. How Can I Help You?

It's based on the premise that, at the end of TRoS, Ben doesn't die. He lives and joins the good guys! But he did a lot of bad stuff, so he's going to be punished. Originally he gets sentenced to death, but Rey is sad about that, and so Poe and Finn step in because Rey Cannot Be Sad. But, also, they understandably resent the bad stuff he did, and they're allowed to be a little petty, as a treat. So they suggest Ben be sentenced to a fate worse than death.

And by "fate worse than death," I mean customer service.

So now Ben works for the New New Republic, answering phones, and he has to deal with all the garbage that customer service workers get, and at this point, Rey's Not Mad Just Disappointed face is the only thing keeping him from turning evil again. Force Ghost Anakin Shenanakins optional.

the other AU I have in mind is a crossover based on Crooked House, which is an Agatha Christie novel! It's long so i'm putting it beneath a cut.

SO, when I read Crooked House, I got like half a chapter in and was absolutely OVERWHELMED by the sabezra vibes from the main couple. It's like, guy meets girl, guy is in love with girl, girl reciprocates, guy goes off to war for a few years, guy and girl are reunited. also, girl has an absolutely insane family where literally anyone could be a suspect in a murder.

ANYWAY i immediately came up with an AU, as one does. I call it Crooked Clan.

I haven't decided if I want this AU to be set in our world in the past, in the canon star wars universe, or in a star-warsy-yet-vintagey universe that is different from canon. I'm thinking the third option probably.

So, the idea is that Sabine's clan isn't ruled by her mother, but by her grandmother, who also owns the Darksaber. Sabine and Ezra are friends in this AU--which happens in a universe where Order 66 was never a thing--despite Ezra being a Jedi and Sabine being Mandalorian. They've known each other since their teenage years, like in canon, and they're very close.

When Sabine is about 22, her grandmother dies under mysterious circumstances, and Sabine asks Ezra to come help her. Ostensibly as moral support, but she actually suspects there was foul play. Ezra agrees immediately because he would do anything for her.

it becomes clear soon that there WAS foul play. The obvious suspect is Gar Saxon, Ursa's distant cousin, who invited himself into their home and is known to be ruthless with a dislike for the Wrens. And due to a technicality, he would become ruler of Clan Wren unless the previous Countess specifically left it to someone else. And the will Sabine's grandmother supposedly made is missing.

But, one-by-one, it becomes clear that everyone in Sabine's family is suspect.

As follows:

Ursa, Sabine's mother, who was supposed to inherit rulership of the clan

Alrich, Sabine's father, who would willingly do anything for his wife

Tristan, Sabine's brother, who was ruthlessly bullied by his grandmother and openly hated her

Eris (an OC), Sabine's aunt and Ursa's older sister, who was disinherited less than a month ago for her supposed "madness"

Bo-Katan, a family friend who turns out to have previously been associated with a terrorist organization known as Death Watch

and finally, Sabine herself becomes suspect, when her grandmother's will finally resurfaces, and she learns that the rulership of the clan--along with the Darksaber--was left to her.

I haven't worked out ALL the details yet, but I have a LOT of vibes in my head, and... yeah, that's the ramble! There may be more someday! But I make no guarantees!

Thank you for the ask!! :D

[loopspoop]

Hehehe Chapter 2 for Snowmon AU has arrived >:3 I’m putting the poor guy through the wringer!

TW: hypothermia, post drowning symptoms

“Are we there yet?!” Lupin called as he glanced at Jigen, pulling Goemon closer to his chest.

“Stop askin’ every 30 seconds!” Jigen called back, white knuckle gripping the controls.

It had been three hours and Goemon wasn’t improving. He was dry but the shivering hadn’t subsided, it seemed worse actually. His body temperature was low and the energy his body was using to try to stay warm was draining enough to keep him barely conscious at the best of times.

“Can’t this damn thing go any faster?!” Lupin snipped, glancing down when the samurai nuzzled into the crook of his neck.

“I’ve got it full throttle, damnit!” Jigen glanced back, frowning. “How is he?”

“Not great! We need to get him somewhere warmer!” Lupin pulled the blankets closer around their bodies.

Frowning, Lupin checked Goemon over again anxiously. It seemed like they were doing well to stave off frostbite, but the other symptoms made him more nervous as the minutes ticked by. He cringed as the samurais breathing caught again, holding him tightly as Goemon gripped his arm as firmly as he could in his weakened state and doubled over to try cough up more seawater.

“I’m right here, you’re okay, you’re okay.” Lupin’s hands were shaking, he could feel it despite Goemon’s violent shivering.

He was sure Goemon wouldn’t notice how panicked he was in this state, though Lupin was sure that Jigen could hear the stress building in his voice every time he asked the gunman how much longer until Perth. He was worried every time Goemon tried to clear his lungs, every hitched breath making his heart jump in panic. Every pained noise, every grasp at warmth, it made Lupin more and more worried.

“C-Co-old-“ Goemon gasped through rattling breaths, grasping at Lupin as a few stray tears made their way down his face from the effort of trying to breathe.

It broke Lupin’s heart. Goemon’s efforts to try to get even a smidge of warmth into his freezing body by seemingly trying to crawl into Lupin’s skin..and the thief couldn’t do anything more than hold him and try to help him breathe easier. Biting his lip, Lupin wiped the tears from Goemon’s face as tears of his own began to well up. He was so worried that Goemon would slip away before they managed to get to Perth…all of this over some stupid diamond. Why hadn’t he done more to make sure this was safe? Jigen had said it himself…what was keeping any petty thief with a plane from stealing the diamond before they did? What kept anyone from planting a fake with a motion sensing explosive? He didn’t think it through like he should’ve and Goemon was paying for his mistakes.

“Jigen!” Lupin called, voice shaking. They needed to be faster!

“Lupin, I swear, I’m goin’ as fast as I can make the plane go!” Jigen called back, pushing the throttle further anyway in a desperate attempt to get even a bit faster.

“‘S..’k-ka-ay..” Goemon slurred, squeezing Lupin’s arm slightly as he tried to focus on the thief through hazy vision. “‘S…’s..’ka-kay..”

“Goemon..” Lupin held onto him tighter, breath catching as tears ran down his face.

He was still trying to assure him that things were okay…even barely conscious and freezing, Goemon was ever loyal and trying to focus on him and Jigen. Lupin swore to himself, once they got to Perth he was going to show Goemon how much he meant to them.

~~~~~~~

“Hurry, hurry, come on!” Lupin urged, carefully letting go of Goemon as he stood.

He cringed at the sound Goemon made when he moved away, the way the shivering picked up with the lack of Lupin’s body heat. But it had to be done. They had to get him to the hideout and warmed up to an acceptable level. Wrapping the blankets around his shaking form, Lupin gathered Goemon into his arms as best as he could before meeting Jigen at the planes door.

“Fuck, Lupin, he needs a doctor.” Jigen frowned, helping the them get to the getaway car they had stashed nearby.

“We can’t just waltz into a hospital, Jigen! Pops will be all over us!” Lupin snapped, sliding into the back as he pulled Goemon close to his chest.

Jigen frowned, choosing to ignore the thief’s tone as he got into the drivers seat and made for the hideout. “Well we can’t just leave him like this either.”

“I know that!” Lupin frowned, chewing his lip as he fixed the blankets around Goemon. “I’ll take care of it!”

The gunman huffed quietly, focusing on the road as he sped up. Lupin brushed the hair from Goemon’s face as he looked at him anxiously. His breathing was still just as slow and rattling as before, making him worry about pneumonia or some other chest infection or even dry drowning. He could do more research at the hideout for treatment options and get into contact with someone who could treat Goemon under the table..they just had to get there first.

Ever thankful for Jigen’s ability to evade traffic at high speeds, Lupin bailed out of the back seat with Goemon as soon as Jigen had stopped outside their hideout. All but breaking the door down, Lupin quickly laid Goemon in the loft bed and covered him up as he removed the damp blankets they had used from the plane and managed to at least get some boxers on him. He knew Goemon preferred more traditional clothing but he had to work with what they had on hand. Heart pounding faster at the sound of pained discomfort coming from the samurai, Lupin quickly grabbed all she spare blankets they had stashed around the hideout and piled them on top of Goemon in a hasty attempt to replace the lost warmth.

“What do you need me to do?” Jigen called from the doorway as he secured the locks. He didn’t need any unwanted visitors trying anything when things were this bad already.

“Shit, uh, check the bookcase for any first aid books while I check the computer!” Lupin called back, going to the desktop computer as he frantically searched online for answers.

Jigen rifled through the books before pulling one off and skimming it. Finding the section he needed, Jigen read it and reread it before hauling ass to the kitchen and grabbing water bottles from the cabinet. Turning on the hot water in the sink, Jigen placed the bottles in to warm them.

Lupin huffed, shutting the computer off as he quickly went back to Goemon. “Find anything, Jigen?!”

“I’ve got it! How is he?!” Jigen called back, checking the water bottles before drying them off.

Lupin frowned, checking on the samurai anxiously. He seemed less shivery with the additional blankets and warm apartment but his breathing was still concerning and he wasn’t super conscious but he seemed a bit better. Making sure Goemon was situated on his side so he wouldn’t choke, Lupin glanced over when Jigen made his way up the stairs with his arms full of water bottles.

“Put these under his under his arms and between his legs. They’ll get his blood warm.” Jigen dumped some on the bed as he carefully got to work putting them against Goemon

Lupin frowned, helping Jigen get the bottles against Goemon. He wanted to warm him up as soon as possible. He was worried about the long term and what would happen to Goemon if he was cold for much longer.

[sonicasura]

You know what be a fun AU idea?

Making Barbara Lake an actual threat to her enemies and the only one aware of it is Jim.

We all know that she will throw hands with God for her son. Like Barbara literally just goes off on Strickler, Angor Rot, a Gumm Gumm and fucking Merlin. She would put on the bloody Fierce Deity Mask if given the chance whilst not giving a damn about the mysterious god stuck inside. LET HER WREAK HAVOC.

I think it be even more chaotic if she looks human but actually wasn't. Whether she used to be human or had Jim in this state is a toss up. It make an interesting hybrid Jim as a side.

One example involves one of my favorite Digimon, GranDracmon.

Barbara essentially makes a deal where she becomes the vessel of the Dark Area Ruler's power. No strings attached as the woman can do whatever her heart desires. Barbara, of course, just continues life like normal. Maybe disposing any petty crook or a certain awful husband.

Oh yeah, that would make Jim is half human/Digimon since this deal was made before he been born. Barbara's human form is now an interactive mirage. RIP James once he realizes just what he divorced on her son's 5th birthday. 🤔

Barbara take Strickler's attempt at the life bond spell as a cute joke since she's essentially undead. Can't really bound your life force to a dead person. Avocado man revealing his true appearance be like:

Barbara: You are so cute!

Strickler: C-c-cute?!!! Are you nutty?!

Barbara: *reveals her GranDracmon visage* Batty is more accurate. 🧛

Strickler: Oh my 😳

Also extra rip Merlin if he manages to gaslight Jim into doing the spell. Wouldn't that make him half GranDracmon/Troll or a third of each? It be an ultra pain in the ass if he hadn't awaken his Digimon side so now he has extra issues moving his new body.

Jim barely making it to his home on shaky legs while the beast like heads, horns, tail, and wings way him down. Barbara WILL hurl Merlin through the walls at the sight of what he's done to her baby. He realizes that he practically fucked over a literal demon lord's whelp as she stares him down with vile fury.

What worse way to explain to your friends and allies about not being fully human. If Jim hadn't told them or at least his best friend. Also Eternal Night? More like Eternal Hell cause Barbara got a humongous advantage.

Only powerful light can kill a GranDracmon so they essentially just added curtains to a crystalline massacre. I won't be surprised if she just crystallizes Gunmar and Morgana then use their bodies to fix the Primordial Heartstone.

Gotta love my insane brain sometimes.

[sewers-headmates]

Hi!! Could we get tweekXcraig alters! With alot of basically everything! Do whatever youd like! We feel super super connected to them lately and think you guys would be the best at doing it! Can basically make whatever you want use an au anything! go ham:DDD

another one thank you /lh /nsrs i would gladly do more anything south park haha. any au? hummmm i’m petty and enjoy making them so you’re h3ll p4rk creek. btw the only way these two will be problematic is the fact the people behind this au HATE this ship it seems. my conspiracy theory is this au was started out of spite for it lol

Name: Tweek Tweak

Age: 17

Gender: demiboy

Pronouns: he/him, they/them

Sexuality: gay

Species: imp, transHuman

Source: h3ll p4rk, south park au

Roles: anxiety holder

cisIDs: blonde, imp, wings, tails, horns, crooked teeth, tics, anxiety, GAD, OCD, ADHD, addict, fangs

transIDs: transDPD, transHuman, transForcedHarmful, transPTSD, transLegPain, transCaneUser, transRedEyes, transMethAddict, transPillAddict, transWeedAddict, Starwberryscentic, transDead

Paraphiles: biophilia, odaxelagnia, jeuliephilia, haemotophilia, masochist, masquephilia, autonecrophilia

Other Labels: ambiamorous, very very clingy

Appearance:

Name: Craig Tucker

Age: 18

Gender: trans male

Pronouns: he/him

Sexuality: gay

Species: human

Source: h3ll p4rk, south park au

Roles: stabilizer, soother

cisIDs: human, black hair, depressed, mixed, exhausted, piercings, freckles, ASPD, antisocial, asocial, white, mexican

transIDs: transHeterochromia (blue-brown), transWelsh, transOCD, transDimpels, Blueberryscentic, transPhoneAddict, transWeedAddict

Paraphiles: necrophilia, odaxelagnia, haemotophilia, sadist, masquephilia

Other Labels: ambiamorous, mainly just stays around Tweek

Appearance:

thank you for giving me the chance to make h3ll p4rk creek hehe >:3 they are so cute and the fandom hates them so much it’s unreal. no one understands the greatness of creek in this au!

-estella

[solitaire-sol]

Sunday Snippet

Thanks to @groundzero-v for the tag! This is a bit from one of two Victorian Prongsfoot AUs in my WIP folder (well, the other might end up Regency, we'll see). This WIP, unlike the other one, is also a Muggle AU.

Sirius paged idly through the letters, the once-pristine stationary yellowed by the passage of time; the flickering firelight hardly made for the clearest illumination, but no matter. He had read those lines often enough to know them by heart, memorizing each stroke of ink, charting the way that the letters began as a neat but childish scrawl and slowly straightened, loops and whorls coming to stand at attention like a line of soldiers. They had started out as nothing more than a child's ramblings, little stories about the woods and the fields around Welspryng Grange and crooked sketches of the view from James' windows, and over time the content of the letters had shifted, easing into open words of fondness and veiled words of love. The last few letters, postmarked after Sirius' departure from England, were pleading and furious and remorseful by turns, until the last letter of them all, which contained only a handful of lines and a final farewell. 'I should have burned them,' Sirius thought, knowing even as he thought it that he could never bring himself to do so. 'I should have let that be the end.' It had been his intention, at the time, overflowing as he'd been with heartache and the righteous outrage of betrayal; Sirius had enough money that he could permanently set up house on the Continent, if he cared to do so, and never set food on England's gloomy shores again. Yes, he should have burned the letters and he should have stayed away, and yet, he had done neither. Perhaps it was some lingering sentiment from the boy who had devoured those silly little stories about chasing rabbits and splashing in brooks, from the youth who had eagerly awaited the end of the holidays and the return to school and to James, from the young man who had pressed those lines to his lips and longed for the chance to bestow such kisses on the hand that had written them. Perhaps it was cruelty, a malice born of a soul-deep wound, that had driven Sirius' return to England and his violent intrusion into James' proper little life. If the latter, then the embers of that bitter fire now burned low, for Sirius could no longer find it within him to take pleasure in his manipulations, and James had changed as well. He no longer resisted Sirius' provocations, but that impossibly honest gaze was no longer clouded with conflicting emotions: The violence of their coupling had diminished, though the vigor had not, and there were times when those clear hazel eyes were laden with such unspoken tenderness that Sirius was forced to look away. Sirius could lie to anyone, except to himself, and Sirius knew that it had never been about revenge, about the petty amusements with which he could so offhandedly ruin other peoples' lives. It had always been about James, about James and Sirius and the innocence that they had lost when the world had intruded into their humble London apartments, when Sirius had believed that the return of the luxuries lost when his family disinherited him would ease their life together, not bring it to an end.

I once again have no idea who to tag it always makes me feel like I'd be bothering people??? so an open invitation, I guess!