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uncouth-the-fifth · 3 years

Note

imagine damian and the reader at the wayne gala. he gets jealous when he sees her flirting with someone else. he ends up pulling her into a bathroom and fucking her in front of a mirror while saying that other person can’t treat her like he does

and that’s how the reader finds out damian has feelings for her. all this time he acted like he hates her because he’s in denial

Title: More Than They Ever Said

Paring: Robin!Damian (18+) / Canary!Reader

Tags/Warnings: semi-public sex, oral (f receiving), vaginal sex, bathroom sex, slight underage drinking (reader is like 20 lol), mentions of golf.

Word Count: 7150

Notes: sooooo.... this def evolved beyond a drabble lol. the way gala sex kills me every time 😭 I was a little mushy w Dami here bc I miss his sweet side. This also sounded a lot like goldenspecs12's request from Wattpad, so I hope you don't mind that I meshed the two together 😚 I leaned toward Damian liking the reader more than being in denial, but that’s the only thing I sacrificed between the two requests. This one is my fluffiest and most romantic yet 💖

"can I request Damian w a Queen reader, like she's Oliver and Dinah's child? say the reader is a hero but not very active, like she comes in when her parents can't. so when she and Damian meet, they hit it off. The main request is that they sneak away at a gala held by Oliver and the reader and Damian have sex."

Ask to be added to my taglist for future posts!

The party was more fun than you thought it would be.

Benefits were usually chalk-full of old, wealthy people that thought they made good conversationalists. The board members of Queen Industries were tired of Oliver trying to escape their claws, so you’d been recruited in his place. While your dad got to play minigolf in the penthouse’s massive party floor, you were confined to the lounge, playing up what an intelligent, capable business partner you’d be when you were CEO. Fellow businessmen gruffed about their plans with you while their wives cooed and drank, pinching your cheeks.

You thought that you’d hate it, but the attention and the praise was nice. It made you feel like you were helping your dad and your family’s company, which was constantly criticized and judged for it’s choice in CEO. Everyone called your father a lazy silver-spooned idiot, but he was one of the only men in Star City who actually cared. By the time you had Q.I’s biggest donors laughing out of their seats, Dinah’s hands slipped over your shoulders and you were kissed on the side of the face. Thank you, she mouthed, and your position as family support-beam was covered.

Since most of the benefit-goers were at least forty years your senior, you gravitated to your dad. From the penthouse’s upper balcony, you could see his friends circling around the tiny green mats they were using as a makeshift golf course. Usually, Ollie made sure his public persona’s aim was as garbage as his taste in drink was. But tonight, he played as Green Arrow, who never missed. Not once. Especially when it came to Bruce Wayne, who’s golf game was abysmal at best.

But like Oliver, Bruce was a new man tonight. It looked like he was ready to break out the batarangs any minute now. The two men were barely civil about the viciousness of their competition, and if the view of the game from the balcony was interesting, then from below it must’ve been the greatest show of fragile masculinity ever displayed. You had to make fun of them.

The only opening in the circle of men, who all had their hands on their chins as Bruce lined up his next shot, was by the floor-to-ceiling windows to one side of the game. Just one man stood there, hands in his pockets. You slid next to him, unbothered, and squinted at the game.

Everyone in the crowd was dead silent. Bruce was lining up his golf ball so it would roll into a mug a couple of feet away, so you helpfully provided, “A little to the left, Mr. Wayne.”

Your words overlapped with someone else’s. Where you had said Mr. Wayne, they had said Father. Then the man next to you was his son, but...

You would have never guessed it would be him.

Reasonably, you knew that Robin was Damian Wayne. Oliver could be a little loose-lipped at times, and by his judgment you’d been a teenager just a year ago - what could a twenty year old do to Batman’s secret identity? Not much.

Until you saw Robin without his mask.

Damian was achingly beautiful. He was your age, but he stood and talked like he was much older. There was an angle to his shoulder that made him seem astute and sexy. His eyes fixed on you when you spoke at the same time, and they were a surprising mossy color that jumped out against his tan skin, like plants flourishing out of rich soil. There was just enough blue in them to make him seem haunting. Any moment, you felt like he was going to corner you and whisper your future throatily in your ear.

Looking into them, those piercing eyes, for longer than a second made you want to blurt, “You’re much prettier without your mask.”

But that would expose his secret to every golf-loving idiot in earshot, so Oliver had been wrong. A twenty-year-old like you could do fatal damage to Batman’s secret identity, but for Damian, the short-tempered, snappish leader of the Teen Titans, you would risk anything.

Damian stared, and you stared. He squinted, wet his lips, then turned back to the game. This was your only acknowledgment that he recognised you. His voice was deeper, smoother, than you remember it. “Queen.”

You shifted in your shoes, almost laughing in shock. “...Wayne.”

The game grew boring and Damian didn’t say anything else, so you said nothing too, sneaking glances at him. The last time you’d spoken to Robin had been in costume, when he’d thanked you for assisting with a mission. He’d really been thanking you for standing up for him. You didn’t team up often with the Titans, but when you did, you found that they were unusually snappy and mean with their leader. Not necessary on purpose, but you could tell that Damian couldn’t take as many bites as he pretended to. Standing up for him had been a simple thing. The good thing to do. Now, with that look in his eyes, it almost felt like he still thought about it.

He must have, because the kiss you shared at the end of that mission had glowed with heat. To be fair, you both may have believed you were going to die (before the team pulled through and saved you), so it could’ve been a heat-of-the-moment thing. But this was Robin - if he didn't want to kiss you, he wouldn't. And yet he did.

You’d kissed. And the energy of that kiss lingered between you now, drawing you closer together, putting tiny smiles on your faces. He was cute. Cuter without that mask on.

You stood in the stupid golf silence, feeling foolish. Flirting with boys was much easier in fishnets. It didn’t help how fine Damian’s profile was. He had soft, feathery lashes that occasionally touched down on beauty marked cheeks. His lips were even fuller from the side, forever drawn in a curious line. And those eyes, when they caught yours and danced away again, were much too nice to hide behind a mask. You couldn’t get that thought out of your mind.

When Bruce finally made his move, you leaned in to whisper something to each other at the same time, accidentally knocking shoulders.

“I - apologies,” Damian flushed.

“Oh, um, my bad,” you rubbed awkwardly at the spot where you’d collided. “...You were going to say something?”

Damian’s eyes flicked to your fathers, then to you, unimpressed. He lowered his voice so only you could hear. “They’re awfully hypocritical, don’t you think? Father snaps at me everytime I use my skills in public, and yet he’s putting with perfect aim like it’s not the very same.”

Chuckling, you rolled your eyes and scooted closer, ducking your voice into the bubble between your bodies. “My dad’s the same way. Don’t aim in the house, he says, unless it’s him trying to beat Bruce Wayne.”

Your company’s shoulders turned sideways, leaning into you. His breath ghosted the hair on your neck, standing it on end, and again that silky voice sent tingles down your spine. Damian must change his voice as Robin, because he never spoke like this then. So huskily, so low.

He shook his head. “Unbelievable.”

You watched him. He watched you. You ran your tongue over your teeth, and Damian subtly adjusted his slacks from his pockets.

At the same time, you asked each other, “Would you like to get a drink?”

Your hiding place was a loveseat in the lounge, between more businessmen and their ditzy heirs. The bartender was your family’s, so he smiled and turned down your request for a drink, courtesy of your dad’s strictness. Luckily, he didn’t recognise Damian. You watched him order it at the bar, his rings catching the light, the muscle in his arms peeking out from under his blazer.

“I think he suspected I wasn’t of age, so he only gave me one.” He took the place next to you, propping his ankle on one knee and lounging out like a panther. Damian offered the cocktail to you, once he’d decided the coast was clear. It was a cute gesture. “Is that acceptable?”

You fished a five dollar bill out of your purse. “Only if you take this for paying. Don’t think I didn’t see you try and sneakily get that past me.”

Damian scrutinized the bill, then you, somehow managing to be a smartass without opening his mouth. Instead of thinking about how nice it would feel to kiss the slight crease between his brows, you traded hands with him so the bill was in his and the drink was in yours. The gentle brush of you palm to his knuckles put way too many butterflies in your belly.

You talked about everything and anything. About home, family life, your cities. The best of it was when Damian dipped his head so only you could hear him, keeping your secrets close and your bodies closer. This was the only way he talked about Robin, so you circled back to any vigilante subject you could think of just so Damian would keep purring into your ear like that. Better yet, he was smart. Talking to him was engaging, and within minutes he'd entranced you, so you sat there talking for more than an hour. Around you, the party rotated and went on.

At one point, you took a drink of the cocktail and passed it to him to share. Damian placed his lips right where yours had been, licking up the cocktail salt and gulping it down slow, adam’s apple bobbing, like it wasn’t the taste of the vodka he was savoring.

Eventually, your bliss was broken. Damian was called over to his father, again, to discuss business, and he left you with your remaining cocktail and the memory of that mission. You couldn’t find a reason to move from your seat. When you’d realized that you and Robin had been led into a trap on that mission, it’d been too late, and your efforts to escape became more and more futile. All you could do was pray the Titans got to you on time. Robin had offered you his glove as the walls closed in, and you’d watched up-close as he assumed you were both about to die. The fear in his eyes was strange - like it was familiar to him. At the same time, you cupped his neck and he held your upper back, and you’d kissed fervently, sweetly.

Damian had put his forehead to yours, and promised even as the trap shrunk around you, “You were excellent. More excellent than they ever said.”

In the big picture, it was a strange last remark to make, and afterwards you’d been too happy about surviving to think about it. But in the moment, you understood. You were understood. Somehow, Damian had reached into your soul and gouged out the words you’d been dying to hear, from your parents, from anyone, and uttered them to you with burning conviction. Maybe it was the adrenaline, or maybe he meant it. Damian found you excellent. Someone, somewhere, didn’t think you were a failure.

Odd, how you’d never seen the face of the man you thought you’d die with (until now), and yet he saw you so easily. You watched him follow his father into the party crowd now, wondering. The Titans had saved you before you could ask what he’d meant. More importantly, before you could tell him the same. He was excellent.

Once you’d finished off your drink, you left it at the bar and grinned evilly at your family bartender. He rolled his eyes and slyly delivered you another, which, on your superhero schedule, would not have you drunk yet. Another heir to some big company was seated at your right, ignored by his father enough to look for some small talk with you.

He was one of the cute, nerdy types that were usually in awe of you. Girls, available girls, were typically rare at these kinds of parties, so he took you not having a boyfriend as permission to flirt with you. Unfortunately for him, your seat gave a perfect angle on Damian across the party floor. He was impressing the wives of Wayne business partners, who flocked around him like they’d flocked around you, pinching his cheeks. You could almost read their lips enough to guess what they were saying. What a handsome young man you are! Oh, Bruce must be so proud.

“...and then my father flipped over his kayak! Would you believe it? Two thousand dollars, thrown right in our family’s lake.” Your company snickered, howling at his own story.

You circled the rim of your glass, watching how Damian tried to teach some of the women phrases in Arabic. Unknown to them, they were some pretty funny swear words. It threw you into a bout of giggles, and the man next to you kept talking, spurred on by the noise.

The flock of hens around Damian receded, and his shoulders slouched in relief. That was cute, too. It wasn’t often that people understood how draining these parties were, but for people like you and Damian, it was a racetrack of endless, boring circles. Everything was a formality. Few things were genuine. Damian turned, and you caught his eye to let him know you were going to meet him. He nodded toward a side hall, his mouth a curious line again. If you looked at it long enough, it felt like a smile when he mouthed, escape?

Your company was still talking. He stopped when you grabbed his tie and planted a pity-kiss on his cheek, waving to him as you bounced away. “Sorry, kid. Not my type.”

You planned to bring Damian to the secluded balcony on the second floor to unwind, but instead, you were taken by the wrist and maneuvered into an empty powder room. It was colder than the steaming party air and smelled like champagne, with couches to sit on and mirrors to powder at. For a bathroom, the lights were warm and low. The noise of the party went quiet the instant the door was shut, like you and Damian had entered your own little world. No more circles. No more back and forth.

“Here,” Damian said, noting the mirrors. He tilted his head as he asked, like he was nervous, “Is this acceptable?”

“It is the ladies powder room, but I’ll give you a pass, since you’re cute.” You joked. Damian didn’t make a move to relax on one of the couches yet, hanging in front of you like there was more he wanted to say. There was more you wanted to say, too, but no good words came to mind.

But the silence wasn’t awkward. Again, Damian stared, and you stared. The glass he brought with him was set down. He put one fist on the counter beside the door, and like honey had been poured on your nerves, you realized how easy it would be for him to push you up against it. Kiss you senseless. Heat drooled off of him this close, and you wondered if he’d still lean in to whisper to you even if you were alone.

The lack of words drew to a point where something had to be said, anything, but his eyes felt so good on your skin and it was interesting to see him nervous. Something strange told you that Damian liked the silence, too.

You wet your lips with your tongue. Damian cleared his throat, and took a sip from his glass. “Was I interrupting something?”

“Between me and that guy?” You smiled gently, like you were reassuring him, and laughed to yourself. “Oh, man, you should’ve seen it, Damian. Poor kid really thought I was flirting with him. He’d totally convinced himself, it was hilarious.”

His profile was tense in the mirror, which you stole glances at to watch how the amber light played on his handsome skin. When Damian swallowed his drink, his throat rolled in the sexiest way, and immediately your mind fed you with visions of suckling, kissing, tonguing his neck.

“Why’d you ask?” Your eyes sparkled. Damian drew a step closer, and you used the opportunity to swipe a drop of alcohol from the corner of his lip with your thumb. “You jealous?”

It was the touch or the suggestion that made Damian pause. He didn’t stutter, but lagged over what to say, eyes vast and wanting as they raked over your face. “I don’t get jealous,” he clarified, “but… I do intend to be the only man to kiss you tonight.”

Damian’s hand took your chin. Your belly exploded with instant arousal, hitting you like a bullet of liquid lust. “You’re the only man who’s kissed me like that,” you whispered, taking his tie in hand. “I hope that’s always true.”

His voice had gone throaty. “May I kiss you again?”

Again, he reminded you.The two of you had kissed before, and it had been spectacular, terrifying, and excellent.

“Please,” you said, and Damian rushed to your aid.

Not a moment more was wasted. Curling his tie into your fist, you drew him in, slow and deep and wonderfully. Damian’s cologne hit you before his lips did, and both made your core throb for friction. Two broad hands slammed your hips into the door. His fingertips smoothed up the fabric of your dress, pressing you back and squeezing you in until you could feel his belt buckle against your belly. Damian was a sweet, magnetic kisser, chasing your lips like he was on a crusade to save them. Each time they met, he swam deeper. The point of his nose bumped against your cheek. You hummed your laugh against his lips, and Damian groaned as he pulled away, readjusting, twisting, testing the limits of the kiss. And you followed him at every step or more, revelling in his taste.

You didn’t want him to think you wanted the kiss to end, so you drew the hands braced under his blazer around his neck. Soon, that didn’t feel close enough, so you cupped each side of his face and pecked Damian until you were breathless. He brought you in until your arms were flat to his chest, the kiss almost vertical in its intensity.

He groaned when you parted, gasping and blinking just inches from your face. Your mouths were still connected by a thick string of drool, which hung until it split and clung to Damian’s chin and fell, marking a wet strip down into his collar. You panted, watching it go.

Damian left your waist to hold your wrists, keeping your hands around his face. He settled warmly into your touch, basking in it, and the pure enjoyment on his face made you smile. You wondered if anyone else had cared for him like this. If Damian had ever felt someone hold his face and treasure it. The thought gave you a strange urge, so you followed it.

You brought Damian’s brow level with your mouth and sweetly kissed his forehead. Then his nose bridge, then his temples. His face was so quickly warm that you giggled. In the most unsubtle way possible, Damian drew back his hips so you couldn’t feel the heat there, and closed his eyes, begging you to continue.

“I want you,” you whispered against his jaw.

Damian shivered. “You have me.”

You shifted one hand to his shoulder, giving yourself more room to nuzzle and kiss his neck. The line of drool was still there, so you cupped his skin and tilted his jaw up, and in one stroke, licked all the way to his earlobe. Damian’s moan poured from his mouth like a growing flood. You even felt his thighs press together between you, and pleasure tingled in your throat when he choked at the glide of your tongue.

He released your wrists, reached beside you, and locked the door with an audible click.

Then, Damian devoured you. Both hands hooked around your back, arching your chest into his, and finally, bringing his bulge between your hips. You clung to him for dear life, helpless as his teeth pressed into your neck like a vampire. Damian fed like one, too, suckling the skin there like he was starved. Your panties were so wet that you were desperate to get out of them, grinding your core against his.

Damian retreated, gasping. He licked the spit off of his lips and glared into your eyes. Bluntly, he said, “I want to eat you out.”

Once more, you kissed him, delirious with excitement. Your lungs burned for air, but your core burned harder for him. “Take off that suit and you can do whatever you want to me.”

His eyes gleamed. “I plan to.”

Quickly, you shoved your hands into his sleeves and pushed them off his shoulders, giving you a crisp glimpse at his carved shoulders. Damian's fingers blurred from button to button, but he saved the last for you on purpose. You worked in tandem and with little thought. If he could, Damian would steal a kiss, and you would bite his lip and chase him into more. When that last button was popped, his white button-down parted for a gorgeous plane of hard-earned muscle. His abs, ribs and pecs were pockmarked with scars, shrapnel marks and in some places, bullet holes. You stopped.

At your staring, Damian pressed his lips together.

“It's.. not appealing, I know,” he monotoned.

“No,” you disagreed, palming his stomach, “it’s impressive. All these do is show how strong you are, how long you've survived. You're so… built...” you didn't hide your thorough examination of him, “...I mean, we have to be to do what we do, but still… It suits you. It's sexy.”

You worried you'd ruined the moment with your babbling, but he glimmered under your praise. Damian brightened in the way only Damian could, smirking devilishly and towering over you like a supervillain.

“Sexy?” He pressed his naked chest into yours, whispering hotly in your ear. You could feel his silk tie pinned between you. “Does that mean I'm your type?”

You rolled your eyes. “Eavesdropper.”

“Temptress,” Damian replied, just as easily.

To claim your title, you found Damian's belt and pulled on it until the clasp gave. It made a satisfying whipping noise as you ripped it off of him, shouldered into his space to grab his waist in one hand, and cupped his throbbing boxers in the other. Damian's sigh came hoarsely and wanton from his mouth.

“Fuck me,” you demanded, grinning with delight.

Instead of wasting time on a response, Damian fell to his knees, a faithful worshipper. He did the gentlemanly thing and helped you kick off your heels. The tile was icy on your bare feet, but it only mattered until Damian ran his hands up your thighs. Sliding his fingers underneath the fabric, he bunched it up your middle, peering up at you smugly through his lashes. You could feel the debauchery of it - Damian, on his knees, tie hanging still from his neck, pinning you to the door. You, your legs spread and wanting.

Damian sucked in a breath. Your panties had an obvious wet patch, put there by him. He thumbed it carefully, watching your brows tense and your eyes close, basking in your initial whine. All of it enchanted him. You were soaking because of him, trembling because of him, marked because of him. There was not one place he would rather be than here.

Damian collected your sweetness and sampled the taste on his thumb, trapping it behind his smug smile. He ran his tongue over his teeth, spreading the flavor around his mouth, savoring it. As Damian rolled your underwear down your legs, his cock twitched in his open fly. You were beautiful. Oh, he was going to enjoy this.

“Put your leg over my shoulder,” Damian ordered, smirking, “I want to taste you.”

Warmth exploded in your cheeks. “G-go ahead.”

Gradually, you situated your leg across his back, pussy tensing at the touch of the cooler air. This didn't matter for long. Damian's warm lips nuzzled and kissed the thigh closest to him, painting messy reflective circles on your skin with his kiss. Even that made your legs tense wildly, so Damian shoving his wet, blazing tongue into the folds of you cunt pumped moan after moan from your mouth.

“Damian!” You yelped.

Oh, he definitely liked that. Damian pinched your ass and used his mouth so passionately that his head shook back and forth. He darted right for your clit, sucking it until his cheeks were hollow and humming smugly between your legs with every squeal. Parting your folds with one hand, Damian kissed your core just as dirtily as he'd kissed you. The dangerous glint in his eye never faded. He plunges his tongue inside you in earnest, slurping obscenely, purposefully. There's no need for Damian to shoot you cute looks or put on a show - his skill was the performance, because that skill was unbeatable. Your pussy was already tender, fucked nerveless by Damian's filthy mouth. He vibrated your cunt with a deep groan before he drew away, face dripping with slick like a pornstar’s.

“You're suitably wet,” he said, matter-of-factly, “would you like me to use my fingers?”

All the strength you had went into a weak, pleading nod.

Damian was polite enough to grant you your bearings first, letting you grip his hair and squeeze the counter before he resumes. You give him the sweetest, most precious whine when Damian licks you open again. He wisely starts with one finger and builds from there, earning you with pumps and curls of his digits. Damian's talents quickly become a currency, one that you exchange with mewls and pants of praise.

“So good,” you whine, “oh, fuck - fuck, just like that…”

Damian smirks between your legs, jamming his fingers faster into your sore pussy. Lust sizzles low in your gut, ramped up again and again by his thrusting. It’s so powerful that you roll and buck off the door, your hips in his face. You want him - want him more than you want anything.

“You're ravaging,” Damian hums between licks. His eyes are closed, but that only gives the way he touches you more meaning.

It’s so surprising from his mouth that your hold on his hair slips, setting Damian free. He pants, catching his breath, and it’s easily the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen in your life. The effort has slouched him from his knees to his calves, further spreading his legs and opening up the fly of his pants. A solid bulge has formed and spilled out there, straining to escape his briefs like an arm in a sling that’s too small, way too small, for someone of his size. Three of Damian’s fingers are still twisting inside of you.

Slowly, Damian tipped back his head and hung down, arranging himself beneath your cunt. “So beautiful.” His free hand splayed where your leg met your hip. “May I touch you?”

“I-I get it’s the gentleman thing to do, to - to keep asking, but fuck, Damian,” you cursed, “you can do whatever you want to me.”

Damian’s intense jade eyes were so dilated that you could barely make out the color. He dragged his cheek against your thigh, fingers still circling inside you, and grinned like a shark. It was probably a bad idea to give the heir to the Demon’s Head that much power over you.

His other hand squeezed your skin, slow to passionate, from your belly to your breasts beneath your dress. It’s clear by the way Damian looks at you that he loves what he sees. The texture of his veiny, calloused hands feels good on your waist and ass, dragging you closer to him. He chuckles when your back arches, when your nails press into his hands, his back muscles, throwing himself into his task. Damian’s nose prods your folds as he licks you clean, tongue dipping and sliding against your sore clit. It’s like he’s done this for you before, in this exact way. Though he utilizes his tongue the most, his lips too are brutal, matched perfectly to fit your pussy lips.

But that tongue - how Damian’s jaw isn’t tired, you don’t know. He parts your folds and latches onto your clit, flicking his tongue at superspeed until drool and cum bubbles from your sensitive core. Your back winds tighter at every vibrating lick, paralyzing the muscles in your legs with glorious pleasure. It’s so exquisite you start to melt to the floor like warm clay, only to be bolstered back up by Damian, both hands viciously squeezing your ass. He keeps going not for you, but himself, sucking down every last drop of your juices.

Shattered, you twist hopelessly into his mouth, chasing the strained feeling like it’s the last you’ll ever glimpse. “Fuck, fuck - D-Damian, ah…”

“Did it feel good when I made you cum?” He teases, “It certainly tastes good. All those filthy little noises you make for me…” Damian shakes his head at himself, like it’s too fantastic to indulge again. He leaves your clit with a satisfied kiss. “Beautiful.”

Once more, the words are surprising to hear from him. You always considered Damian the prude type, but here he is, on his knees for you, mouth and chin glittering with your juices while he teases you in low, sexy tones. At your surprised look, Damian has the gall to blush.

With his ring finger in his mouth, he ponders, “If a man has never said that to you before...” pop, “consider me surprised.”

“Never while finger-fucking me, at least,” you admited, legs still trembelling. “It was sweet. You… you meant that?”

It was hard to imagine Damian Wayne finding anything beautiful. Even you, who was pretty enamored with him, figured he would judge by quality or skill, not beauty. The words tasted new on his tongue.

Slowly, Damian stood and stretched, his shoulders tight after staying in the strange position for so long. Lifting his arms coincidentally let his waistband sit lower on his hips, flashing his green boxers your way while showing off the huge, carved muscles of his arms. Truly, Damian’s subtlety was unmatched. You didn’t mind his miniature bragging fest - not when he had so much to brag about. Eating you out had put an excited shimmer in his skin, so the gold-toned lights of the room reflected sexily off his sweat, already accenting his kissable tan.

“I did,” he told you, moving on to his sucking middle finger. His other hand played on your thigh, stroking it. “I’ve always been… drawn to you. Every mission we’ve had together. I have a profound feeling that we are very similar.”

You laughed. Not at what he said, but the timing of it. “Would you believe me if I said I felt the same way?”

Damian made a face like his heart was doing jumping jacks. “A few hours ago? No. But now…” he barricaded you against the door, first with his hands and then his hips, closed in so tightly that you had to look past your nose to meet his eyes. “Your crush is adorably obvious. I’m annoyed that I didn’t see it before.”

Your rounded your hands against Damian’s shoulders, then his tie. It twisted nicely around your fingers, silky and cold in comparison to your flushed skin. You were tempted to fix your dress, but nothing, not even the world ending, could make you leave this room.

“My crush is obvious? Damian, all you’ve done for the last two hours is sneak me drinks and imply how much easier it is to be around me.” You grinned, “What’d you say earlier? There you are, Queen. Finally, someone intelligent enough to speak to me.”

Damian shrugged. “It’s true. Your knowledge of bioluminescent ocean life is fascinating.”

“I can’t believe you said that after giving me head for ten minutes.”

“It’s actually been closer to twelve,” Damian smirked.

Playfully, you pinched Damian’s cheek, then pulled him by the tie into a starved, energetic kiss. He must’ve been praying for your permission to continue, because the plan he’d been forming is quickly put into action. You’re hugged, arms scooped under your back as you kiss him. Damian surrenders his mouth to a bit of revenge tonguing while undoing your dress. No amount of kissing will pull him from his task, but your hand is a special case - it smooths down the front of his boxers and Damian melts.

“Y/N,” he groans.

Damian petulantly resists the temptation to close his eyes, but your touch is soft and sweet, demanding him to yield. Your lips suckle on his neck and Damian’s knees buckle. If getting his mouth between your legs didn’t turn him on, then this will finish him for sure.

“I missed you. Kissing you.” You purr into his throat. “One could never be enough for me.”

Is this what it’s like to be wanted? Damian asked himself. The only possible answer thrilled him, and he found himself pouring even more passion into the kiss, into you, wanting to share that rush of affection. You respond to his every touch with vigor. Damian’s heart stalls each time your thumb strokes his face, each time the other strokes him through his slacks.

“Me either,” he rasped, and helped you out of your dress. His tone was shy, but his words held too much depth to be meaningless. I want a wealth of them. I always want to kiss you, was what he wanted to say, but Damian was too embarrassed to raise the words. This moment was too special to ruin with his hopeless romanticism. He kissed you again and again, and to his amazement, you kissed him right back.

“Fuck me,” you begged him between breaths. “Right here. I don’t care if we’re caught.”

I don’t care if we’re seen together. I want to be seen with you, I’m not ashamed of you.

Damian cupped your face and almost knocked you both over with the strength of his kiss. Nose-to-nose, eyes closed, he commanded, “Bend over the fucking counter.”

In a blink, Damian turned and there you were, open and waiting for him. The sink was hip-level, so the bend was nothing but perfect - Damian could fuck you from behind and watch your lust-blown reflection without issue. Your perfect pussy drooled leftover cum down your legs, making your sex shine in the light.

In the mirror, you watched Damian’s eyes darken in delight. His pupils followed the line of your ass to your back, appreciating it like an artist would, like he intended to paint you later and needed to memorize the greatest shapes of your figure. The marble was icy against your hard nipples, which Damian had exposed when he’d impatiently shoved down your bra. Now, he cupped one of your breasts as he bent over you, kissing and suckling his way down your back.

“Perfect,” Damian hissed.

Shyly pressing your butt back against him, you buried your face in your arms and bit your lip, waiting for him to open you up. Damian’s shadow came to hover over you, and in the mirror his eyes were vicious, pools of circling sharks. “Are you ready?”

“Mhm,” you nodded. “Take your time.”

Though you weren’t being sarcastic, Damian took it that way and pinched one cheek of your ass. “With you? I will.” Then, with the same smoothness, Damian asked, “Condom?”

“Pill,” you replied, and Damian nodded his approval.

His pants rustled as they fell down his legs. Where you couldn’t see, Damian committed the sight to memory - his cock in hand, your pussy spread open, all for him. You squeaked when his hot tip touched your cooling clit, and squeaked again when it glided down your pussy and tested your opening. He knew he’d found the way when you winced.

In an unsurprising moment of compassion (for those who truly knew him), Damian kissed the top of your head and offered you his hand. “Would you like to hold it while I…?”

You took his hand and squeezed it to your chest, squeezing him closer in the process, too. “Thank you. Go slow, for this part…”

Damian complied. His sweat-sticky chest hovered warmly over your back. Even if Damian was big, you were wetter than you’d ever been in your entire life - any pain would quickly slide into pleasure. He braced himself with a deep inhale, and a hot, sharp sensation told you that he’d entered you. Where you choked in a needy gasp, Damian poured out his version of a whimper. You both held it. Then, breath by breath, you were struck with the realization that you’d been dying to feel this for weeks, for months, and only now was that heat being satisfied. Damian’s tongue and fingers had come close, but this is what would cure that aching emptiness - his big, girthy cock.

The deathgrip you had on Damian’s hand loosened. “You look perfect,” he murmured into your hair, instantly making your core flutter. “Oh,” he chuckled filthily, “you like that? Funny, how badly that idiot at the bar wanted to be in my place right now…but it’s me who gets to pound into—”

“Damian,” you warned.

He smiled smugly against your neck. “Nothing.”

Dutifully, Damian withdrew his hips, taking all of the heat with him. When he rolled back in, a hot, tingling sensation roared over all of your senses, and you let the moan at the top of that tsunami loose. It was clear that he couldn’t fuck you like he wanted to with one hand fished down at your side, so he glued both to the base of your back and started to thrust in earnest.

“So full...” You mewled, and Damian became a human pile-driver.

Your head seemed to roll off your shoulders with every crazed, rhythmic slam, so you grabbed the faucet and held on for dear life. Every slap was so loud, so powerful, that you prayed this one random bathroom in the penthouse was soundproofed. Anyone walking past would know you were getting railed out of your mind. You tried to compensate by moaning and squeaking quietly, but with force came volume. It didn’t matter how silent you were, Damian’s hips, your ass, the squelch of him inside you - each noise filled the bathroom, echoing off the tile.

The only way you could think to describe him was filling. First, there was the hot, cinching tension of his hands fused to your waist. Then there was his cock, which begged to be squeezed more and more with every pass. You responded to each throb with a mighty clench, which bent Damian over you like an animal, gasping for breath. His balls were painted with your slick. The closer you came to orgasm together, the closer Damian came to you. His hands migrated to higher on your sides, then up by your shoulders, then around you, where Damian kissed your back and rubbed your belly while he made love to you. He talked more than he moaned. Your ear was filled with sweet nothings, with vicious promises of what he would do with a whole night alone with you.

Damian’s reflection was wild with lust. He met your eyes as he fucked you, whispering how beautiful you are, how good you take his dick. His deep green eyes were so dark you couldn’t make out the brown in them anymore. The long muscles on his arms drew taut with each thrust, making his biceps bulge and pin your hips to the sink. Soon enough, a bruise would form from the pressure. One of many treasures from tonight - you would be thinking about Damian in his crisp suit for months to come, and the mess he’d become with you now even longer. Your pleasure built and built and built, like a nail struck further into the ground with a hammer. A very, very big hammer.

“M’ cumming,” Damian husked, slowing his plowing to a sloppy glide. Even his endurance was spent, and you were glad he’d spent it all on you. “Where d’ you…?”

You braced your hands on the counter, then on one of Damian’s. Together, you smoothed his digits down your stomach and between your soft, abused folds. “Inside me, please, please please—” you begged him, “fuck, a-as deep as you can go.”

As a test of your flexibility, Damian turned in and kissed you. Just as he parted your lips with his tongue, he parted your folds with his fingertips, overriding your clit as his cock throbbed inside you to the hilt. He took the invitation as a command. Damian pressed in until you could feel his abs mold to your ass, then stuttered his hips in quick, agonized dips to get himself there. With his fingers and his cock putting stars in your eyes, you finished first.

The white marble counter fizzed in your vision, until all you could see was that powerful, endless white, humming in your mind’s eye. Still, Damian wasn’t finished yet. You bumped your temple against his chin and hummed, “Cum for me, baby… fuck, a-ah!”

Your pussy’s throb raced and raced until it spilled over, pulling Damian right under the current. One clench and he was done for, so the velvety, periodic squeeze of your cunt emptied his store. You hung there, spasming in unison, until that overwhelming heat spurted in a ring around Damian’s cock and flooded out of you. Only then did his fingers stop on your clit, and you settled warmly in each other's arms and tried to remember your names and who you were.

Damian pulled out, then snuggled back in. He would’ve been nervous any other time, but he’d just put his dick inside you, so a little instinctive cuddling could be forgiven. On shaky legs, you turned around and sunk into him. You could tell by how he was eyeing the sink that he was desperate to get clean again, so with one kiss (on the cheek), you set Damian loose.

In companionable silence, Damian cleaned up and you collected the clothes abandoned on the floor. Staring at the corner where you’d just had the best sex of your life put an embarassingly pleasant warmth in your chest. Interesting, how one terrifying moment could become something as special as this. Fascinating, how you’d felt like you’d known him all your life.

“You know… I think you’re excellent, too.” You told him, finishing off the knot for his tie.

Damian dipped his head to hide his smile, but something so bright was impossible to hide.

#damian wayne smut #damian wayne #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne x reader smut #damian wayne x you #robin smut #robin #dc smut #dc comics #dc #user uncouth

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apocalypticgargoyle · 3 years

Note

Gene... My baby mama... I need... More alt!dream... Whatever you got fr. I just need more I'm.. I love him (probs not as much as you) but I love him

You're in luck bc I'm running on rip fuel for him. [ALSO I WROTE THIS BEFORE EVERYONE DID THE TECHWEAR STUFF FOR HIM I'M SORRY. I'LL GET IT IN NEXT TIME. I PINKY SWEAR.]

𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐄𝐃. ♘ 𝐚𝐥𝐭!𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 (𝟏𝟖+)

pairing: alt!Dreamwastaken x fm!reader

warnings: smut (18+), language, semi-public sex, light mentions of needles, domination

previous part ♘ fanart that i can't stop crying over

recommended listening: Hi Frequency by Vague002

The bus swayed slightly, your grip on the cool bar tightening to keep you from knocking into Clay as it turned. The dark city outside the windows bustled with sparkling lights, catching your eye every few seconds. As more people filed into the cramped space, Clay grabbed your hand, looping your arms around his waist and smugly grinning as you fought not to blush. He brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. “Will this be your first time in a parlor?” He asked, voice low and raspy as he whispered to you, not wanting to disturb the other members of society who just wanted to get home after a long day of work.

You nodded your head, making him chuckle. You knew it would be a different experience, mainly because it was taking place during the tattoo shops “after hours,” which Clay had only briefly explained the benefits of attending. “What are you getting done again?” You asked, moving so your hands were holding onto his arm instead, fingers brushing against the exposed skin peeking from beneath the cut-up shirt under his dark jacket.

He shrugged. “I couldn’t decide. Why don’t you pick?” He joshed, smirking at the way your eyebrows raised.

“I don’t want to be responsible for a mark on you,” you murmured, making him snort.

He hooked his fingers into the neckline of his shirt, stretching it down enough to reveal the litter of hickeys peppering his skin that you had left the night before. Your eyes widened as you swatted away his hand, looking around carefully in hopes that no one had seen them. He looped an arm around your shoulders, loving the fact that you were so worried about the crowd when all he wanted to do was fluster you.

He pressed his lips to your cheek, the warmth of his body encompassing you. “I love it when you get all blushy,” he teased. “Seriously though, you should pick. I won’t look at it if I don’t like it,” he snarked.

You groaned lightly. “Clay, come on.” He brushed his lips against yours.

“I trust you, sweetheart,” he cooed almost mockingly, his nose moving to press into your hair.

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, trying your best to remember what was already on his body. You thought about the impending reality that whenever he saw the new tattoo, his mind would linger on you, and for some reason, heat traveled to your ears at that thought. “Um… what about a bird?” You asked, voice uneasy as if on eggshells.

His face twisted into a pleased smile. “A bird?” He repeated. You shrugged beneath his arm, making him chuckle. “I like that. George likes doing bird tattoos too, so you might just make his night,” he added, his praise and approval making your stomach fill with confidence. He pulled you closer, his lips brushing against your shoulder. Your mind began to forget what the two of you probably looked like to the other people as his scent invaded your senses. “Will you hold my hand while I’m in the chair?” He joked.

You scoffed. “Are you gonna cry?” You teased, making him chuckle.

“No, I’m just clingy,” he answered without skipping a beat. Your grin was hidden in the soft corduroy of his jacket.

The tattoo parlor was nothing like you had expected. The door was locked behind you after a bouncer let the two of you in, the man leading you two up a staircase and into a dimly lit room. The sound of heavy metal music and the buzz of tattoo guns swirled together, echoing off the dark brick walls. You slipped your hand into Clay’s as he talked to the receptionist, your eyes attempting to focus on one detail instead of letting the atmosphere overwhelm you.

The thick layer of smoke above your heads made you scoff, realizing it was coming from the opposite corner of the shop, a hookah lamp sitting on a coffee table like an outstretched octopus. The people around it seemed to be discussing something rather intense, their haircuts sharp and defining almost as if they stepped out of some kind of alternative fashion magazine. There were three tattoo artists, each with a white lamp focusing on their work as they carried on to the beat of the music.

Clay’s description of the place flashed into your mind, making you realize just how off the cards the parlor actually was. Clay took a toothpick from the receptionist’s desk, taking it between his white teeth before being waved down by a shorter man with dark hair across the floor. You followed closely behind him as Clay greeted the man; you quickly realizing that this was the famous George.

As Clay shrugged out of his jacket, George pulled out a binder, standing beside you as he flipped to a page with scattered drawings of different flight poses of birds. Your eyes drifted away from the page as Clay’s arms came into view. His old t-shirt with the sleeves ripped off was doing wonders for his biceps. Before you knew it, the two of you agreed on a mix of a few designs resembling a crow and Clay was laying on his back with his hand tucked behind his head. The spot he was filling was in the dead center of the flesh of his upper arm; a spot that George had grumbled about being awkward to reach, especially on someone as large as Clay.

You watched closely with curious eyes as George began to tattoo the design on Clay’s arm. Clay’s other hand was wrapped around the back of your elbow as you leaned on the chair at Clay’s side. His finger pads drew circles into your skin as you asked George about how he got into tattooing, making small talk here and there.

You liked George, mainly because he was quiet until he conjured up some kind of relentless backhanded comment. His tattoos revolved around a giant tree stretching from his back and down his arms. You wondered how long he had to sit for it and what the healing process was like. As he worked, his teeth played at his snake bite piercings, his dark eyes focused intently on the work in front of him.

Clay switched his toothpick to the other side of his mouth, his hand tightening around your arm with a small groan as George reached a sensitive spot. “Don’t be such a pussy,” he grumbled, continuing his work. He stopped, cleaning off some of the sprayed ink and filling a new cap with grey. “You have any work, pretty girl?” He asked you, voice low and charming.

You shook your head, earning a small tsk from him. “This is the closest she’s been to a tattoo gun,” Clay prided, making George sarcastically raise his eyes.

“A total virgin, huh?” He joked, winking at you. “Dream’s not corrupting you, is he?”

You chewed the inside of your cheek trying not to blush. “I’m trying,” Clay leered, smirking at you with his smug ego hinting at his lips.

George bit back a laugh. “Don’t get horny in my chair,” he muttered, eyes trained on the lines he was scaring into Clay. “Speaking of, I heard you got busted up by Punz, and by the looks of it… seems right,” he commented, gesturing to Clay’s eye that seemed to have started fading finally.

Clay let out a dry laugh. “His ribs are still healing,” you added, making George smirk with a shake of his head.

“You know what all that’s about right?” George asked you, taking his foot off the pedal to grab more paper towels from his desk. You looked up at Clay whose jaw tense as he chewed on the toothpick. After you shook your head, George continued. “Punz’s sister is stupidly in love with Dream,” he plopped back in his seat, swiveling his chair, and drawing a hand through his locks, revealing the bleached undersection. You had the fleeting mental image of him tying his hair back to reveal it.

He pulled on a new glove. “Madly in love, huh?” You pried, twisting your chair closer to Clay’s shoulder. Clay rolled his eyes at the fact as if he had been bugged about it for years. “You didn’t tell me you had a girlfriend, Clay,” you teased, and he looked up at you with a tired expression, making you bite back a giggle.

After George finished, you followed Clay through the door, breathing in the fresh air; or as fresh as it could be in the midst of the city’s industrial square. Clay’s fingers knitted together with yours as he led you down an alleyway, flicking aside the toothpick. You chewed on your lip in anticipation before he pinned you against one of the walls. His devious grin sent shivers down your spine as you looked up at him.

You swallowed. “Shouldn’t you take it easy? Let your arm heal a bit?” You asked, voice coming out in a soft whisper as his lips pressed against your neck. “Won’t it hurt a bit with your ribs, too?” Your heart hammered in your chest at the fact that someone could turn the corner and catch the two of you.

He chuckled against your skin, slipping his hands beneath your skirt to grip your ass. “I like the pain,” he mused, tongue grazing against your skin as he pulled your hips against his. He kissed you hungrily as if not being able to press his body against yours for that hour was too much for him. His hand dropped to wrap around the back of your knee, moving his own leg to prop your thigh up against his hip as your hands dug into his hair.

The friction from his jeans made you moan into his mouth as his hand moved beneath your shirt, fingers fitting beneath your bra to palm your breast. He mumbled praises against your lips at how good you made him feel and how beautiful you were.

He turned you, your hands planting against the coarse brick as he ground his hips against you. You bit your lip, trying not to be loud enough to draw attention to the two of you, which seemed to be the last thing on Clay’s mind as you heard him unbuckle his belt behind you. You could practically picture his cocky grin, controlling eyes set as his hand gripped onto your hips, shoving your underwear to the side. “You were so much fun to show off tonight,” he chided darkly, lips brushing against your shoulder. “Such a good girl.”

As he pushed into you, one of his hands moved to knot into your hair. He moaned at the feeling of you clenching around him, tugging on your hair as he pulled your hips back against his. A low grunt tumbled from his lips as he set his rhythm, basking in the fact that you were secretly ready for him to ruin you as soon as you stepped into the parlor.

His fingers moved to wrap around your neck, the thought of his tattooed hand tightening around your pristine skin sent shivers through your body and heat flushing your cheeks, the tension in your body tightening. As he pressed you closer against the wall, you thought about the power he had over you; his height and build would make it easy for him to break you if he wanted, yet even as he pounded into you like he wanted you to forget your own name, the restraint he showed was enough to send you over the edge if you let yourself divulge in the thought.

Clay pulled out of you, only to turn you, your shoulders hitting the wall again with a soft thump as he hoisted you up ever so slightly, thrusting up into you as his hand dig into your thigh, the other resting against the brick beside your head. Your arms looped beneath his jacket, raking down his skin as you held onto him.

He groaned as your thighs tightened around him, making his hips stutter as if he were trying not to let himself finish too early. He dug is face into the crook of your neck, burying his teeth in your neck to stifle his grunts of your name. Your head tilted back against the brick, hand moving to tighten around the wrist that was beside your head for some kind of anchor.

His hand wrapped around your waist, driving himself deeper into you, brushing the part of you that needed him the most. You moaned, carding your fingers into his hair as he pressed his lips to yours roughly, wanting to taste your pleasure as it washed over you from his movements.

You tugged on his hair, making his cock throb inside of you, him finishing inside you with a low groan, his hips snapping against yours to stimulate a reaction from you. The feeling of his sloppy pleasure as his movements lost their rhythm sent your hips grinding against his, his teeth marking your shoulders as a reminder of his work on you.

Your toes curled, finally reaching your orgasm as he murmured dirty expressions of him ruining your pretty clothes against the wall. As he pulled out of you, your knees felt weak, threatening to buckle beneath you. You tried not to give off how much he had trashed you, but the warmth snaking down your thighs and your bliss-ridden mind proved otherwise.

Long story short, the bus ride home was rather interesting.

Dream Taglist: (follow this link to be added :))

@karlkitten @pluto-dizzz @more-like-reyna @honk-izzie-was-taken @marrymetheonott @froggyy06 @ghoulandghost @savingpluto @marshmallow-babe @drunkpumpkincake @unstableye @tinyegg @behzzyboo @darphobic @twist3dtinkerbell @sparkletash @lindsayhunz @shroomieissmall @mintmochiii @clubfairy @aroyaldarknessblr @camerondiaz48104 @madsbbg @victory-is-here @rat-poisin

#dream x fem!reader #dream x reader #alt!dream #alt!dreamwastaken #dreamwastaken imagine #dreamwastaken smut #dreamwastaken fanfic #dream smut #dream imagine #dream x you #mcyt fanfiction #mcyt x y/n #mcyt x reader #mcyt smut

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realcube · 3 years

Text

how they use their quirk during sex

navi | masterlist | taglist

thank you to anon for this request

characters ♡ bakugo, kirishima, kaminari, dabi & tamaki

content warning ♡ slapping, electrostimulation, fire play, masturbation, mentions of voyeur, choking, oral (giving + receiving), blood kink, mention of knife play, unconventional organism eating & vagina-having reader - minors dni

katsuki bakugo

♡ he likes to ensure that his slaps leave a mark

♡ just so everyone knows that you’re his

♡ just seeing you all marked up from his explosions and hand just gets him so hard tbh

♡ also, he loves squeezing you - it makes him feel powerful and dominant - so sometimes he just grabs a handful of your tit, squeezes it then proceeds to make you yelp by setting off a lil’ explosion in his hand

♡ he’s no villain, but he definitely wants to hear you scream in pain or pleasure - either or both works

♡ so whenever he is hitting it from behind and you feel a zing through your body after he spanks your thigh, mentally prepare yourself for trouble in regards to sitting down - for the next week or so

♡ it’s a hard thing to do though because he needs to be 100% that he won’t seriously burn you or harm you, or else he literally wouldn’t be able to look himself in the mirror for the rest of...his life

♡ so yeah, if he’s not completely confident in the fact he’ll be able to smack you without burning you, he just won’t do it

♡ also, the little crackles and pops from miniature, involuntary explosions going off as he approaches his climax not only entertain you, but they also drown out his moans

♡ not that he’s ashamed of the sounds he makes - he’s loud and proud - it’s just that the explosions help balance out the noise so it’s not just his grunts echoing throughout the room

♡ plus, they add ambience

eijiro kirishima

♡ he hardens his back to avoid getting scratches on it lol

♡ it’s not that he doesn’t like getting marked up by you or anything, it’s just a hero instinct tbh

♡ but honestly, you like the feeling of your nails digging into his back then suddenly, the skin becomes sniffer around your fingers

♡ sometimes he accidentally employs his quirk while he is choking you because he gets so into it

♡ or just as he is about to slap your thigh/ass

♡ he also has a bad habit of hardening when you are trying to give him hickeys

♡ so yeah, you’ll probably be left with bruises, hand prints and bite mark scattered across your inner thigh and torso after sex with kirishima and he leaves unscathed

♡ also, idk if this is apart of his quirk but his pointy-ass teeth definitely come in handy - especially if you have a blood/biting kink

♡ kiri is willing to go full vampire for you <3

♡ also, you don’t need knives to do knife play with kiri - he is the knife (well, his teeth are)

♡ he says sternly that he doesn’t enjoy knife/blood play but then he gets oddly aroused when drawing blood from your thigh or nibbling at your slit while he eats you out

denki kaminari

♡ i am so sorry but i can’t stop thinking about kami playfully zapping you during sex AAAA

♡ like if you are into electrostimulation- kaminari is basically your sex soulmate

♡ also if you aren’t like super into electrostim but you give consent for him to lightly zap you from time to time, he will take advantage of that

♡ like just as you’re approaching your orgasm, he’ll shock you slightly so your moans are even louder and your pleasure is escalated

♡ or sometimes during the foreplay, when he is just fondling with your breasts, he’ll give it a lil’ zap so you perk up and whine for him

♡ he just loves seeing the way your whole body juts in reactions and how your nipples erect at the shock

♡ whenever he slaps your thigh/ass, it’ll always send somewhat of a current through your body, which arouses you even more

♡ tickles your clit with electric sometimes just to add some flare

♡ he might make you beg for his touch if you’re needy enough, then simply run his charged hand over your body teasingly

♡ but if you’re into full-on electrostimulation, he’s extreme picky about the times he is able to utilise his quirk bc now he’ll have to send larger currents (instead of just lil zaps which i assume are easily to control) so ofc he needs to be in the right headspace or he could potentially harm you and obviously, that’s the last him he wants to do

♡ so yeah, he probably trains his quirk extra to ensure that he can produce exactly the right amount of electricity for you

♡ omg and he is probably into mutual masturbation/voyeur !! bc you are like his goddess so ofc he gets off to seeing you touch yourself even if he isn’t the one providing the pleasure. also it really brings out his inner perv

♡ so if you like to use toys when you masturbate, literally do not worry about any of them running out of charge/battery while you’re pleasuring yourself, kaminari has you covered bb 💅

♡ also, outside of sex he probably playfully zaps you all the time - like if he is standing behind you, he’ll tap your shoulder followed by a little electric shock. which makes you jump and turn around to see him standing, whistling and averting his gaze unsuspectingly

♡ ‘what, kami? and ouch.’

♡ his eyes widened as he inhaled sharply with an offended look on his face, ‘eh, what?! i didn’t do anything!’

♡ you blinked rapidly, ‘who else has an electricity quirk nearby?’

dabi

♡ he mostly uses his quirk during the actual act of peneration

♡ he rarely uses it during foreplay

♡ maybe just to set the mood by using his finger to light the candles on his bedside table or sumn

♡ or, if you’re into fire play, he’ll drag his glowing finger across your chest to trace your curves while leaving a pale marks behind, shooting an erotic burning sensation through your body

♡ or LORD he (lightly) burns his name into your skin !! so everyone knows you are his >:)

♡ i believe that - unlike the other boys - dabi is able to control his quirk pretty well all throughout sex, no matter what mood he is in

♡ so angry make-up sex with added fireplay isn’t completely out of the question

♡ though, he is a bit cruel so if he’s got your ass in his hands while he’s approaching his orgasm, he will purposefully burn marks into your skin

♡ however, everything comes with a price

♡ so although he can control his quirk at almost all times, he does not know how to deal with the aftermath pffft

♡ he’ll look at your bright red ass and how you are struggling to sit down and be like ‘put some aloe vera on it idfk 🤷‍♂️’

♡ anyway, just expect there to be burn marks on every part of your body that dabi touched

♡ the most painful ones are probably the ones he leave on your hips, while he holds your pretty figure in place and drills into you from behind

♡ or perhaps the ones he makes on the back of your head as he forces you take more of his cock into your mouth

♡ then again, the burns on your neck once he has finished roughly choking you like a slut while pounding into your cunt, were also problematic

♡ but the handprints he leaves on your torso as he feels around the bulge his massive cock makes in your stomach also hurt quite bad

♡ god knows, but you’re just generally in pain after sex with dabi tbh

tamaki amajiki

♡ suneater more like pussyeater amarite

♡ this might be a lil bestiality-esque bc he is like a human who develops features of an animal but like..he is still a human, after all, so he can consent

♡ but anyway, tw for anyone who doesn’t want to read anything of the sort !!

♡ ok, so, let’s get this out of the way first - tentacles 😍 KJVDKFVZDI

♡ he uses them exactly how you imagine he would; he simultaneous holds you down, massages your breast, covers your mouth, chokes you, slithers one up your cunt and one up your ass - just..everything...

♡ like if the tentacles are out, you know you are getting overstimulated that night

♡ also sometimes - if he’s feeling especially bold - he’ll slip one of his tentacles under your skirt while in public then just watch as you desperately try to stifle moans from how good he feels squirming inside you

♡ you both like it a little more than you’d like to admit tbh

♡ also, one time he ate goose just so he could manifest wings and try fuck you mid-air lmao

♡ that would’ve brought a whole new meaning to ‘flying fuck’

♡ unfortunately, it didn’t work as well as he had hoped as his wings couldn’t support both of your weight so it was more like him hovering over the bed while drilling into you from above

♡ it was definitely a new angle though, so you couldn’t complain

♡ he’ll pinch your clit and squeeze your tits with his lobster claws but that’s about it - he generally doesn’t tend to manifest those during sex

♡ one of his dirtiest secrets is that one time, he paid crazy money for a dish with elephant meat in it, in hopes that he’d get a monster cock

♡ (no, the thought never occurred to him that perhaps horse would be a better, cheaper alternative)

♡ bc he highkey has a size kink but you’ve already kinda gotten use to his size so he needed to amp it up...

♡ but no- all he got was a trunk 😭

♡ however, it wasn’t all bad bc at least he made good use of that trunk-

♡ (he shoved it so far up you, he hoped to see it come out your mouth 🥰)

♡ anyway, rapid-fire round:

♡ he once ate rabbit so he could develop bunny ears and a tail so he could be your cute lil’ bunny boy 🥺 while you peg him

♡ buffalo wings get him riled up tbh - only top energy after he has buffalo wings

♡ honestly, the beak he manifests after eating chicken lowkey destroys your cunt-

♡ the leathery skin he gets after eating crocodile makes him feel badass

♡ oh! and the sharp teeth too- like kirishima, he will go full-vampire if you want him too

♡ his quirk is so versatile, just let your imagination run wild lmao ✨

♡ plus, he is pretty whipped for you so he's basically down to try anything

1K notes · View notes

sugamamacustard · 3 years

Text

Rut

Pairing: Alpha! Tetsuro Kuroo x Omega! Reader, Alpha! Atsumu Miya x Omega! Reader, Alpha! Kiyoomi Sakusa x Omega! Reader

Genre: NSFW

Request: Hi, custard💕 your writing is soso wonderful! Can I request headcanons about alpha!Kuroo, alpha!Atsumu, alpha!Sakusa (separately) going into rut with his fem!omega!S/O?

Summary: You and your alpha have been through so much together, but how are the reacting when their rut hits?

Author’s Note: Holy wow guys, going through my requests, there’s a lot of Sakusa ones. So I caved and decided this is a good a place as any to start with him! And thank you so much!

I’m vibrating bc I just got accepted into Uni and just-

Requests: Open!

WARNING: Smut, Daddy Kink in Atsumu, slight bondage in Sakusa’s. Please give me some daddy kink asks

Tetsuro Kuroo

➵Ah yes, thirst asks. One of my favorites- even if I try keeping up the innocent writer façade. I’m not. My other blog has some filthy smut on it.

➵ Anyway, moving on.

➵ Kuroo is a rough lover as is. He teases, he drags you along a long, long road for you orgasm, pounding you into the mattress. and drawing all sorts of pathetic mewls out of you.

➵It’s okay to drool.

➵It’s just his alpha instincts that make him want to mark you from tit to toe.

➵He, on a normal basis, bites you and claws your hips anyway, but when his rut hits?

➵He’s feral.

➵ There will be bite marks littered up and down your spine and bruises practically imprinted on your hips.

➵You better believe you are not leaving your nest until his rut is done. You are stuck.

➵Though he’s always ears open incase you need to tap out, his alpha always always putting you first.

➵But if you stick through it?

➵He is rough and feral and pounding into your poor abused entrance until your sobbing.

➵ You most likely have to plan for his rut two weeks in advance

➵Which is hard between dancing around his pre-rut symptoms and prepping yourself for what is sure to be a week of pure, filthy sex.

➵Okay let’s side bar into Pre-rut bc I don’t think I went into a lot.

➵Tetsuro’s Pre-rut isn’t terrible. He mostly just sticks around as often as he can, growling at anyone who steps too close to you, feeding you his lunch, scenting you constantly.

➵Definitely one of the better ones to have during this time, I tell ya.

➵But of course, he makes it a little difficult while your trying to discreetly stock up on easy grab snacks and water jugs.

➵Kenma helps out a lot though, he honestly is probably your best friend is your dating Kuroo.

---

The hand around your throat kept you pinned to the plush bottom of your nest. Your mewls and moans were muffled but at this point you couldn’t hear them, even if you wanted too, through the blood rushing through your ears. Your hips hurt with how hard Tetsuro was gripping them, pulling you in time with his thrusts.

“Fuck kitten.” His growl had you gushing slick around his cock, making him, in turn, growl lower. His hips were moving at such a rapid pace, you couldn’t see them, even if you wanted to. All you could do was feel his cock drag in and out of your gushing hole, pleasure wringing your stomach like a wet towel.

“Alpha- Alpha, gonna- gonna cum on your- your- holy FUCK-” You turned your head to bite the pillows beneath you, feeling yourself tighten around Tetsuro. He sunk his teeth into your mating mark, making you gasp as you came with a loud whimper, pushing back onto him as he continued fucking you within an inch of any actual thoughts.

Just your alpha and how good he was making you feel.

You felt his hips still as a warm load of cum shot into you, filling you to the brim and making you hum in bliss. Tetsuro chuckled, unlatching from your neck and lapping at the pearls of blood poking through. He allowed you to catch your breath before pulling you to sit on his thighs, cock still buried deep inside of you-- his knot just barely staying out.

“Good kitten. Now, let’s see if I can fuck some pups into you.”

Atsumu Miya

➵Alright, let’s set the seeds of how I imagine one of the Miya’s in bed.

➵Atsumu absolutely adores the earth you walk on.

➵Even if he had to fight Osamu for you in the beginning. It was all worth it.

➵He treated you well, worshipping you in bed. There is never a time he hasn’t had you quivering because of his tongue.

➵He, however, is also such an asshole in the bedroom.

➵Like yes, he’s pulling you to sit on his face, but yes, he’s also edging you until your sobbing and grinding your self against him.

➵If your riding him, he’s suddenly holding your hips down and making you cockwarm him while he does some sort of shit on his phone.

➵If he’s holding you missionary, he can just as quickly can pull you into a mating press, locking your arms between your chest and knees, absolutely pounding into your poor entrance.

➵ So while Atsumu can be generous and can absolutely worship you, he also can and will be a huge asshole.

➵His rut doesn’t make it any better.

➵He just gets worse.

➵He either makes you sob with pleasure or beg for something.

➵Like, you thought Atsumu would be the horny, needy, whiny one?

➵You thought wrong. Atsumu knows exactly how to turn his hormones against you, make them work for him

➵Side bar once more: Atsumu’s pre-rut? SUCKS-

➵Sorry not sorry.

➵This man prolly doesn’t realize his rut is approaching until you pop into the gym, excusing him from practice for the week.

➵He doesn’t care about it before that. Sorry man.

---

“Is your alpha’s cock not enough for you?” His voice was silky as he hissed at you, fingers clawing at your hips, keeping you perched just above his knot. “I thought I was the horny one.”

You whimpered above him, hands clawing his shoulders as you struggled to hold yourself up. You didn’t want to disappoint daddy, did you?

A harsh smack to your ass had you yelping, throwing your head back as you cried out a mix between a chirp and a moan.

“Answer Daddy when he’s talking to you.”

“I’m sorry Daddy- so sorry! I promise to be good. Be good for Daddy. Patient and good. Daddy’s cock fills me so nicely-” You yelped when another smack stung your ass cheeks, making you shut your mouth.

Atsumu grumbled into your chest, loosening his grip ever so slightly before pulling you up, quickly slamming you down before repeating the process. He ignored any protest you gave, instead chasing his own release. Slick dripped between your thighs, coating his own thighs as well.

“Is my prince(ss) making a mess of themselves?” He snickered, keeping his pace as you built up to your orgasm. You nodded wildly, trying to keep up with his brutal pace.

“Just for daddy!” You yelped, throwing your head onto his shoulder. “Daddy- gonna-gonna cum!”

You nearly cried when he stopped, feeling him chuckle into your chest.

“Not yet, sweet cheeks. After all...This week is all about daddy.”

Kiyoomi Sakusa

➵Sakusa, Sakusa, Sakusa. Where do I begin with you sweet prince.

➵ You know what, we’ll start with our sidebar.

➵It’s not you prepping. It’s him. He like- hardcore- nests. Like he’s the alpha, yeah, but there’s so many things he has to prep.

➵Like your nest? All the blankets have to be sanitized and re-scented and the pillows have to be washed and re fluffed-

➵His room (Where you keep one of many nests) has to be cleaned and reorganized and he has to restock your snack stash and purify the water jugs-

➵God he just has so much to do okay-

➵Sex itself is just a lot of work for poor Sakusa.

➵He’s come a long way though.

➵Only for you though.

➵I can imagine Omi being super into Toys because less... ya know...

➵He’ll still fuck you until your knees wobble and knock together, but he’s also into the little bullet vibrators that he can hold onto your nipples or clit (Dependent)

➵His rut makes these unacceptable. His alpha won’t allow it.

➵He can pleasure you just fine without the use of toys,

➵I can also imagine he’d be super into, like, face to face positions so he focus on your beautiful features instead on the mess below you guys.

---

Your wrists were bound above your head with your knees pressed to your chest. The smell of alcohol was pungent under the stench of sex, making your nose scrunch. Omi was keeping you pinned, thrusting in slow, calculated thrusts, grinding against you with ever pull.

You were whimpering with every pull and push of Omi’s cock against your walls, teasing you in the most aggravating, but delicious, way.

You could see the way he eyes your every reaction, beautiful eyes blown with lust tracing every facial feature of yours. Watching every reaction you gave him. Watching you.

He grunted when your walls clutched him a little too tightly, slowing his thrusts a little more. “So good to me omega, letting me use you any way I want. “

He hissed when the praise seemed to do nothing but clutch him tighter, teetering him even closer to the edge. He wouldn’t give in, pulling out completely, instead replacing his dick with his fingers and teasing your sweet spot (He could practically pinpoint it at this point).

Slick coated his fingers, making him smirk as you withered against him. Turns out, you were just as close as he was, if not closer.

“Now, let’s see how good I can be to you.”

2K notes · View notes

roger-that-cap · 3 years

Text

wildest dreams

witch!wanda x reincarnated!reader

summary: wanda had walked around the earth for centuries with no magic and hardly any soul left after losing her soulmate. she thought that her lover would never return and that the only reunion they would have would be in the afterlife, but a run-in with bucky changes everything after he insists that he met the long gone y/n at a fountain in the park.

yet another au by me...

word count: around 6.5k?

imma tag one person bc she gets upset when she isn’t tagged- and idk if anyone else would actually be interested?

@teenwonder

also this picture is not mine, and the dividers are by @firefly-graphics !!

without further ado, it’s almost 6 in the morning but i give you this!!

She held you tight, fingers digging into your skin as she trembled above you. The rose bushes were rustling in the wind next to you both, the sweet smell of the flowers contrasting with the moment. You were halfway gone already, eyes far off but trying to swim back to the surface, wanting to look at her one last time before the inevitable happened.

“S…” you tried to say, but she hushed you immediately, tears falling down on your face and mixing with your own. You shook her head at her as hard as you could, begging for her to let you continue. “Say you’ll remember me,” you ground out, fingers tightening around her hand.

“What?” Wanda asked, voice already thick with grief as she tried to decide whether or not it was better to keep the knife lodged between your ribs inside of you.

“When I come back-” you cut yourself off by coughing up blood, and Wanda didn’t even wince when it splattered on her cheek. “Back for you, promise that you’ll remember me.”

“Darling,” Wanda whispered back, her voice cracking as she bent over and rested her head on your stomach for a moment, hiding her sob. She could feel her magic tingling inside of her; under her skin, in her bones, dancing on her fingertips. “I wish I knew- I wish I just knew how-”

“Please.” You said, a desperate look in your eyes as you halted her words, already knowing what Wanda wanted. But natural magic was nothing to mess with. She sobbed again with her lips pressed together, no sound escaping her. You squeezed her hand tighter as the sun started on its routine descent, basking the two of you in an orange glow that you would have stopped to admire in any other moment in time. But Wanda would grow to hate that shade of orange with every breath in her. “Please.” It would always remind her of the sound of your begging, voice reaching for something that she couldn’t see.

Maybe it was the desperation in your voice, or the way that she just knew that you were well within your last moments, because she looked up at you one last time. “Of course I’ll remember you, darling. I couldn’t even dream of forgetting you.” There was a wheezing sound that came from your chest as you cracked a bloody smile, and then you gave one last squeeze before you looked away from her, your soul settling in the afterlife.

Wanda Maximoff would never forget it. Suddenly, her previously irrational fear of losing her magic became real, but that feeling didn’t even come close to the one she got when you grew lifeless in her arms.

Ever since you knew what a normal person was supposed to be like, you had identified that you, in fact, were not the normal person that you were probably supposed to be. Normal people didn’t daydream to the point where it felt like their bodies weren’t in the present anymore. Normal people didn’t have birthmarks under their ribs that aced and burned. Normal people didn’t feel out of touch with their world, like they weren’t even meant to be in the century they were in. Normal people didn’t feel like they were searching for something tirelessly, something just under their noses. And normal people surely didn’t dream of the same set of hands, same pair of eyes, or the same voice over and over again, a new setting every time, but always the same, faceless person. You either drew the same faceless person or rose bushes, and every sketch book you ever had was full of them.

At first, you were sure that you were going insane. Every time you closed your eyes, you would see a flash of reddish brown hair, or the same set of eyes, or the same pair of pale hands. You kept seeing this person without ever seeing a face for nights at a time before you went to see a therapist, who just ended up telling you that worrying about it was only going to make it worse, whatever it even was. But eventually, you learned to get used to it.

Acceptance turned into expectancy. You went to sleep knowing that there was going to be a pair of hands accompanied by the same slender fingers as always before you, sometimes intertwined with your own. You knew that there was going to be a set of eyes on you, watching you intently with no ace to go with them. You knew that you would hear whispers of the same voice, speaking so clearly in a language you didn’t even come close to understanding, and soon, you were craving to see and hear those things. And wanting to see them led to something that you never told your therapist; drawings.

You drew nearly every day under the sky, trying to find different park benches to see the sun rise and set at different angles for inspiration. You loved the sky, moon and stars alike, but there was something special about sunrises and sunsets. Sunrises and sets both meant new beginnings to you, out with the old and in with the new, and each rise and fall filled you with a strange feeling of nostalgia. You were watching the sunset on a park bench by yourself, a sketchbook sitting on your lap as you held an idle pencil, still thinking about the way you wanted to draw the hands. The birthmark between your ribs started to tingle, letting you know that it was about to burn again. That damn birthmark. You dropped the pencil and scratched at it, trying to beat the annoying feeling at its own game. You cursed the mark, but your eyes didn’t leave the sky, and you noticed your heart swelling in your chest, faint despair in the pits of it, churning around like the middle of the deep sea.

You shook your head and put your pencil in your hand again, brain not even having to work hard at all to see the features of the faceless person who was in your every dream.

Even before she ever met you, Wanda didn’t sleep well. She would toss and turn for at least an hour before she finally found some temporary, flimsy form of peace. Her sleep was always light and she hardly ever had dreams, which was customary for a woman like her at the time- an un-blossomed witch.

It was hard for her to remember the time where she didn’t have magic, but that time certainly existed. It lasted nearly thirty years. She never aged a day past twenty one, time moving past her without a care in the world. She was stuck right there, no magic except for the little bit in her bones that was keeping her young. And then she met you.

You were the person that kicked her magic into gear. You were her kindred soul, her other half and the power to her magic. Meeting you had flung her right into the world of magic and spells, things that she only watched others do, but even as she was introduced to an entirely different world, she could remember only really wanting you. Her heart and soul called to you far louder and stronger than spells called to her eager mind. When she met you, it all fell into place. It was an easy love, one that was never going to be disputed or questioned, and loved it. She was prepared to move heaven, earth, and the gods for you, if she had to. Your arrival into her life had caused her to finally blossom.

But now, she had bloomed and flourished and wilted all the same, and she was just waiting to decompose.

“Have hope,” was all that Bucky, a warlock who had been tortured enough in his own way, would tell her. “Have hope that something good will come to you, and it will.”

She never had the heart to tell him that good things hardly came to those who waited. He himself was a product of waiting, and it had served him well. Before he met his other half, he was taken by a rival clan and experimented on with spells that were so far past illegal that they made the casual witch shudder. Eventually, he was broken out and the rival clan was defeated, but he returned to them as an empty shell of a man. But then, Steve came, and then the man was nothing but a ball of light. His magic grew to be strong and so did Steve’s, and together they became known as some of the strongest practitioners of magic in the world.

But what did Wanda have to hope for when you were gone? What did she have to wake up for and smile at when she knew that she had buried you hundreds of years ago? It wasn’t even about the magic. She couldn’t care less about the way she felt the energy leave her- and it was dramatic- leaving in a singular burst of light the second you left. She only knew that you were gone, and that was the only thing that mattered, and it seemed to be the only thing that she even really felt.

Well, she did feel one other thing. Exhaustion. Exhaustion caused by the lack of you by her side. And exhaustion was exactly why she assumed that she was hallucinating when she felt a small tug at her heart, in a part of her brain that had been dormant for years and years. She shook her head and tried to take her thoughts away from you and the nagging feeling in her gut.

“Oh, no…” you exclaimed, voice tapering out into a whine as you watched the ruined paper sink deeper and deeper into the fountain, a fist clenching at your side in disappointment when you realized how many hours were lost, just like that, and then even tighter when you realized that part of you wasn’t even truly upset about the time spent on the ruined art. You were mostly upset that you lost the only vision of the hands that you had during the daytime.

You were on your knees, sleeves still all the way down as you reached into the water frantically, causing the paper to move even further away. You weren’t even worried about your sketchbook that had fallen open onto the pavement, more focused on the rapidly deteriorating piece of paper. You hardly even noticed the man who knocked into you talking, trying his hardest to make the situation better. “Oh, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, is there anything I can do?”

“I mean,” you breathed out, taking the nearly disintegrated paper from the water and grimacing. When you realized that the man was fumbling to say something from behind you, celery apprehensive over the fact that you were upset, you took a short breath and turned around, giving him a small smile. He had dark brown hair that was cut short and crystal blue eyes that were striking, but you knew that they held thousands of stories by looking just once. He was holding your sketchbook, and by the way he was gripping it tightly, you could tell that he had flipped through it for a second. “It’s just a drawing. I guess I can make another one.”

His eyes widened. You saw his jaw slacken and his neck stretch out, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He blinked three times, and his parted lips trembled for a second before he slammed them shut. You cocked a brow at him, your sadness about losing the drawing being replaced by a weak feeling of uneasiness. “Sir?”

“Knew it.” His face was clear from any type of emotion as he watched yours, and when you opened your mouth to ask him if he was okay, a grin spread across his face. “I’m Bucky, what’s your name?” You furrowed your brows at him, asking what the hell had just occurred without saying a single word. “I’m sorry, you just looked really familiar.”

Just like that, you smiled. You knew that feeling, you felt like you got deja vu far too often to be normal. You hated when people made you feel strange for it, you always had, so you tried your best to ignore it with him. “You’re fine, don’t worry. I’m Y/N.” You extended your dry hand for him to shake it. He stared at it for a moment, and then with an eagerness that made you smile, he shook your hand.

“‘I’m Bucky.”

For a moment, you could have sworn that you had done more tha just seen him before. Could have sworn that you had shaken his hand, met him before, been at the receiving end of his blinding yet somewhat shy smile. It flashed through you warm and bright, and you cleared your throat before pulling your hand away and realizing you had held it for too long. You cleared it again when you saw something flash in his eyes, a weak smile lifting on your lips.

“It’s not her.”

Wanda was furious. She was insulted more than anything, really, angry that Bucky could even mistake the light of you for someone else. She knew that you would never grace the earth with your presence again, and she was so used to the fact that she was going to have to die before seeing you again. And for one of her closest friends to try to convince her that you were back?

“She would have already found me.” And Wanda believed that with her whole heart. You had asked her so long ago that you remember her, like she could ever forget. Your scent was so flowery that whenever she walked past a growing garden that she smelled you, your smile was so bright that she saw it in the way the rays of sun came down on the earth. She heard your laugh in the chirping of the birds every morning, and she saw your playfulness in the running waters of the stream by the cabin. She could never forget you, because everything was traced back to you. And you would never return without finding her.

“I don’t think she even knows it yet, but she is looking for you.” Bucky insisted, stepping forward and receiving Wanda’s burning glare while Steve stepped to the side and let it happen. “I bumped into her and she dropped her sketchbook. I saw her drawings- she drew your eyes.”

Wanda’s heart skipped a beat. “What?”

“She dropped the drawing of hands in the water, but I saw she had drawn eyes that looked just like yours, hair the same shade as yours, even drawn the necklace you used to wear. She draws roses, too. I swear to everything above, it’s her.”

She could feel herself getting warm, the sort of emotions stirring inside of her that had the potential to turn into a singular weapon. The thought of a rose bush made her sick to her stomach. “It’s not her.”

“You forget that I knew her, too,” Bucky stated, and Wanda’s desolation was replaced by some ancient feeling of possessiveness. “I could never forget her face, and that was it right there. That was her face, without a shadow of a doubt, And her voice-”

Wanda’s face curled into a snarl. “Stop talking about her.”

“Hey, Wanda, take a deep breath,” Steve cut in, ever the mediator, but Bucky was hardheaded. If he thought something needed to happen, he was the one to push for it to happen, and he needed her to see.

“She looks the same as she did the day she left.” Wanda let out a choked noise. For a second, all she could picture was her lover dying by the blooming rose bushes in the sunset, ruining two of the most beautiful things in life at once. The third (but first) was you, but not even your horrible death could taint Wanda’s memory of you. You would forever be the brightest and most beautiful thing to grace the earth. “I got her number, we’re meeting at a coffee shop a few blocks away.”

“Leave her alone.” Wanda said through gritted teeth, tears welling up in her eyes. When she saw the brunet’s eyes widen and his mouth drop open, she spoke before he could get a word in. “Just stay away from her, Bucky.”

All she could think about was your death. The way you choked on your own blood. The way you cried and looked up at her, but still managed to smile. And as she was consumed by rage and memories, the only other thought in her mind was that she was yours and you were here, and that she couldn’t save you then. But she was surely going to preserve your memory from Bucky’s mouth.

“I know you feel it coming back. You haven’t felt it in so long, but it’s warm, right? It’s powerful. You always were the strongest, and you’re not dormant any longer. Stop lying to yourself and depriving yourself of love, Wanda. You know Y/N-”

She saw red. Red as red as the fires that burned in the magma underneath the ground, as red as embers in a fire. “You don’t get to say her name.” She saw so much red, so much hot anger that hardly covered her sadness, that she didn’t even see the way that she had her hand out red coming from her palm as she lifted Bucky right off of the wooden floor of their shared home. “You don’t get to talk about her.” There was a warbling noise in her ears, whispers that sounded like her name, getting louder and louder until she finally realized it was Steve trying to get her attention.

“Wanda.”

Instantly, she dropped her arm and watched Bucky fall to the ground, landing in a crouched position. She watched him catch his breath on the ground. She opened her mouth to apologize, to say that she felt terrible and that she had no idea what happened, what took over her, but she was stopped by the brilliant smile that came onto Bucky’s face.

“You used magic.” He said, slowly and steadily, not a hint of hesitance or animosity in his eyes or voice. Instead, he seemed more proud than anything. “You can’t deny this now, Wanda.”

She was hyperventilating, the pain in her chest intensifying as she tried without any results to get the right amount of air in her lungs. She felt her knees hit the ground before she knew that she did, her hands covering her face as she sobbed into herself. Her heart ached, tugging in so many different directions as her brain fought to rationalize what everything meant. She had used magic, and that meant that you were back, in one way or another. She was in disbelief. She was in despair. She was in shock.

“I know you do, I know you do,” It was Steve’s arms around her, and Steve’s voice in her ear, and she realized that she had been saying I miss her, I miss her, over and over again until the words jumbled. “We know you do, Wanda. We miss her too.”

But he didn’t understand. He hadn’t lost Bucky since he had found him. He hadn’t walked the earth for centuries after losing the only thing that mattered to him as an empty shell of the person he used to be. He would never understand, but that wasn’t his fault. In fact, she prayed that he would never understand.

“I’m sorry I approached you like that,” Bucky said, crouching down and hugging her just as Steve was, enclosing her into a hugging circle. They were coven, related by magic, and just being around them made her tears subside. “But you know that I would have never said anything like that unless I was one thousand percent sure. I would never do anything to hurt you, Wanda. All I want is for you to be happy. And I know that I found her.”

And how could he want anything but the best for her? He knew her just as much as Steve did. Just as much as she probably knew herself. He and Steve were the ones who stormed the coven that took you from her by her side, and they were the ones that helped her send them to their graves. They supported her through thick and thin, through revenge and peace, and mostly, they loved you almost as much as she did. Why would Bucky lie?

Wanda blinked, staring down at her hands in fear and wonder as her heart beat started to get away from her. Steve’s warm hand landed on her shoulder, and she flinched from the sudden touch after such a rush of power.

“I think you should go with him, Wanda.” Her heavy breathing was all that filled the air for a moment. “Just take a look at her from outside so you can leave if he was wrong without anyone knowing, but you should at least try. I think Buck’s right.”

Wanda’s breaths were still labored. Her hands trembled as she moved hair from her eyes, and her lip quivered before she found the strength to mutter a few words. “Will she- will she remember?”

“I think she will,” Steve said softly. “But she’s probably just a human. It may take more than just seeing you for her to remember everything.”

Her eyes were wet with tears, and her heart was so big with warmth and need that she was scared that it would burst open at the seams. But she was even more terrified to lose the idea of you. Slowly and shakily, she nodded, her head bobbing up and down as she sealed her own fate. “I’ll go.” She saw Steve give her his fatherly and supportive smile, small yet full. “I’ll see her.”

You didn’t know how you were gently swindled into giving Bucky your number. You knew that it was nothing but friendly, but he was so charming that you felt like you could never not know him. In fact, it felt like you already did know him. He said something about maybe commissioning an artwork of yours, and of course that excited you. You were going to meet him at a coffee shop, in a public place even though you weren’t the slightest bit afraid of him. But something felt different.

It started once you got into your car. You were driving to get to the shop when tingles came down your spine, and bumps raised on your arms, like someone was whispering against your skin. You started to feel warmth come and go in waves, brushing against your mind and then retreating again. You shook off all of the strong feelings as you turned your car off, parked in front of the coffee shop while the music from your speakers filled the silence, soft piano music that was perfect for the weather.

It was drizzling, the kind of weather that you liked to call a “lover’s drizzle” because of how often it was seen in romantic scenes. Scenes of confession, of reunion, of desperation between two lovers- more often than not, they had the mild rain to stand in. You turned the music down before shutting your car off and then stepping out, closing the door and locking it immediately before walking briskly to the entrance of the coffee shop with your recent drawings in hand.

Bucky wasn’t there when you arrived. In fact, hardly anyone was there besides the few employees, who smiled at you when you entered but otherwise fell back into conversation amongst themselves, which was fine with you. There was one beefy blonde man who was sitting with a laptop and a ball cap on. He glanced up for a moment and then took a double take, blinking hard at you with a star struck look on his face, and then he shot his gaze back down and went back to typing.

You sat down at a table for two, the only type of table that was there besides the long, awkward study tables that they had set up in the center of the room. You would much rather take the intimate setting of a two-seater than to sit in the middle of the shop, so you did just that. You flipped through your work, looking at it closely now that you had the time. He had mentioned something about possible portrait work for a friend of his, so you naturally brought most of the drawings that you had done with hands, arms, eyes, hair, nearly everything that was the closest to your heart. You rested your palm on top of them and watched your fingers trace the slender ones that you had drawn in what felt like by memory at the time, like you were just remembering the way an old friend’s hands used to look. You peeled that one back and looked into the eyes, the strangest and prettiest light green color that made your heart pound every time you looked at it. You took a deep breath in.

“That’s gorgeous.” You jumped in your seat as the chair in front of you pulled out from under the table, and there was the charming brunet that you had met by the fountain, giving you the same welcoming smile that he first granted you. You smiled back without hesitation, your heart warming at the sight. “You sure can draw.”

“I try,” you joked, your grin nearly splitting your face. “Do you drink coffee?”

“Nah,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “But I like tea, though.” You gave him a thoughtful look.

“Are you into herbal healing?”

You could have sworn that there was some sort of excitement in his eyes, but you weren’t sure enough by the time he opened his mouth again. “Yes, actually! What, does it look like I’m into it?”

“No,” you answered, and it was true. Bucky was huge. He had the kind of build that intimidated other guys at the gym, the kind that made athletes jealous. He looked like the typical meathead, but he was sweeter than you could have imagined. But he looked nothing like a man who would be into herbal healing. “Just a guess.”

“Pretty good guess,” he mused, and you grinned back. Your head was in the clouds of some strange deja vu when he asked you if you wanted something, and the entire exchange of whether or not you were going to pay was on the back burner as you sifted through your thoughts. By the time he came back, you noticed that you must have told him that you liked hot chocolate, and that he must have paid. You scolded him before he sat back down, waving you off. It was silent for a few moments as you looked out of the window, the rain still steadily working through the atmosphere. The cup was comfortingly warm.

“Can I ask you something?”

With any other man, you would have immediately told him no, or at least have your guard up. But there was just something deep down, so buried that it was faint, but it was there, that told you that he was nowhere even close to being a threat. “Yes.”

He nodded, taking a sip of his tea and then putting his cup down gently before giving you an intense look. “Who’s the girl?”

You frowned. “What girl?”

He raised a singular brow. “The one you draw.”

Your breath hitched in your throat. You blinked twice, and then tilted your head to the side. “I don’t draw just one person,” you said slowly, the lie dragging its way out of your mouth and through your teeth. “They’re different people.”

“Oh,” he said, but the smirk on his face told you that he knew you were lying to him and to yourself. You sipped your drink and something tugged at you, telling you to look out of the window and into the rain again, just one more time before you spilled your guts about seeing things- and then something caught your eye. A flash of a familiar reddish-brown. You turned your full body to look that way, and once you did, you nearly dropped your cup.

There was a woman staring back at you, eyes wide and full of so much emotion that the artist in you wanted to rush to make an unworthy attempt at capturing it. Her lips were parted in pure shock, but you were watching them tremble even from far away. She was getting slightly damp in the rain, but she stood there like it didn’t even matter, just locking eyes with you and sending your heart rate through the roof. When your eyes finally came back to hers after looking at her for what felt like the quickest eternity, you gasped. You knew those eyes.

If you weren’t so deep into gazing at the woman stuck behind the glass, you would have noticed the pleased and content look on Bucky’s face, and the look that he gave the big blond sitting with a ball cap on all by himself. You would have noticed the way that the blond man was turning his body towards your table, watching with the same amount of anticipation as Bucky was. You tried to understand why she looked so familiar, why she was scratching the part of your brain that always tried to convince you that you were much older than twenty something- and then it hit you.

You had been drawing this woman. And you had been thinking about her ever since you knew how to think. It was just the first time you were ever seeing the full picture. “I-” you muttered, eyes stuck on her and the way she looked like she was about to topple over from emotions. The words got stuck in your own throat as you weakly tried to get your mind to take you back to the conversation. “I- excuse me. I have to- I’ll be back- excuse me.” Your chair made a loud noise as you stood from the table in a haste, pushing the door open and walking towards the woman who was still standing on the sidewalk, dumbstruck.

Before you even knew you were outside and into the rain, you were standing not even four steps away from the woman, who was now looking at you with an incomprehensible look on her face. You couldn’t even feel the rain on you. All you could feel was her gaze and the warmth that was settling in your stomach and chest, and the same intense familiarity that was hitting you when you looked at Bucky. But it was so much stronger.

“I-” you frowned, taking a step closer and resisting the urge to reach out and touch her. “Do I know you? Have we met?” You had to have met. You had seen her in your sleep, in your daydreams, in your sketchbook. And still, you never could have imagined how beautiful she was.

She was silent.

“I know this is random and that I just bum rushed you, but, did we go to school together or something?” You were embarrassed. You had never begged someone to remember you before, but this woman was different. She hadn’t said a word to you, and you didn’t even know her name, but you were enraptured. You swore you knew her. You swore you saw her eyes glaze over for a second.

“You really don’t remember, do you?” Her voice struck something familiar in your chest, something warm and comforting. It was so familiar, so far back in your memory that it felt like home. Her accent, her inflection, the way she spoke slowly yet deliberately. It was all there in your mind, but you just couldn’t figure out how you knew it so well. “You don’t remember who I am?”

That had you closing your mouth. You tilted your head to the side at what could have been a hostile question, but her tone made it sad. Did you forget a high school friend? “Oh, um, I know you from somewhere, but I can’t really-”

“Think.” The desperation in her voice made your knees shake. If she were anyone else, you would have told her to go away, but you couldn’t. You didn’t want her to go away. But you couldn’t quite place her either, even though your own heart was screaming at you to remember.

“I’m sorry,” you said, a hurt expression on your face. You braved yourself to leave, taking a deep breath and giving her a weak smile that embarrassed you even further. “This was weird of me. I’ll just-”

She was reaching for you. Time started to run slower as her pale arm extended towards you, long fingers that you had committed to memory and to paper a thousand times outstretched. Your mouth dropped open ever so slightly as you stood in place for a second, body still until you subconsciously leaned forward, your nerves buzzing under your skin.

For a second, the only thing you could do was look at the point where her skin touched yours.

You had seen magic before. You had seen it in movies and at theme parks and when miracles happened, but nothing ever like when her skin touched yours. You swore that the warmth that your body had been feeling kicked in even stronger, surrounding you in comfort. Her hand was wrapped around your arm, gentle yet begging, firm yet wishing all the same for something you couldn’t quite see yet. You looked up and into her eyes, the eyes you had drawn and seen so many times, and then you saw it.

You saw it in more than flashes. They were coming in at the speed of light, but somehow you were able to catch every moment and every feeling that came along. You heard her voice as clear as day, ringing with laughter. You saw the two of you attempting to skip stones. You saw her enchanting your stones behind your back to make you think you had actually done it. You saw her mouth brushing over your cheeks, your mouth, your forehead. You could feel her hands on you, holding you, protecting you, cherishing you all the same. You could remember the way that you felt when you saw her standing in traditional witch’s clothing, being inducted into her coven as a blossomed witch. You saw everything and nothing, and you remembered it all.

Wanda.

A strangled sound escaped your body, so feral that it scared you, but you didn’t care. You pulled her forward, your head clashing against her chest. You could feel her shaking, like she wanted nothing more than to hold you just as tightly, but she was hesitating. “Wanda,” you called out, hugging her tighter, and then, like something in the universe stretched too far and then snapped right back into place, she was returning the embrace.

“I thought I had lost you forever,” she said, her voice hollow yet so full, so expressive. “I lost you, darling.”

The memories were all there, like all it took was a touch, but you were still coping with the knowledge. You had been murdered. Murdered by witch hunters, way back when witches were known and feared. That had to have been hundreds of years ago, you knew it. But still, your focus was on Wanda. It always would be on Wanda, forever and always. Just like hers was on you.

“You didn’t,” you managed to say, your own voice thick with emotion as you buried your face into her neck, finally feeling the texture of the hair that you tried so hard to get right. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere ever again.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, suddenly sobbing in your arms. You had no idea how you weren’t being interrupted in the crowded streets, but when you took a look back inside of the cafe to see the men who you so clearly remembered as Steve and Bucky, you knew it had something to do with them and their fulfilled smiles. “I wasn’t able to save you. I let you die, and I’m so sorry, darling. I’m so sorry.”

Her words brought you back to the present. “Wanda, no. No, no, no.” You wanted to pull away and look at her face, but the second you started to, she held onto you even tighter. You leaned your head back onto her chest. “It wasn’t your fault. There was no way any of us could have known, and no way that you could have saved me. It was beyond us.”

“Nothing should have ever been beyond us.” She argued softly. “I’m so sorry.”

“But it was,” you said. “And now it’s behind us. Don’t apologize, Wanda.” You wiggled around and got free enough to look up at her teary face. “I may not have recognized you, but now that I do, I can’t believe that I ever forgot you.”

“A new life will do that to you.”

“Is it really a new life if I remember everything?” You said softly, the rain long gone as you stood with each other, bodies nearly molded together with how close you were.

She pulled away to look down at you, her eyes and overall expression tense, and then there was a look that you recognized from a long time ago. It was a look of sweet desire. You closed the cap between the two of you, pressing your lips to hers in a way that proved that you were both two lost souls who had wandered their way back to their other halves.

“It can be whatever you want it to be, darling.” Her lips brushed your again, soft and tender and eager for more touch. “As long as you let me be in it.”

#wanda x fem!reader #wanda maximoff x female reader #my fics #witch!wanda #marvel au #witch!au #scarlet witch #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff #no idea what to tag this-#wanda x you #lgbt marvel #lgbt

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violettelueur · 3 years

Text

RYŌMEN SUKUNA || LITTLE CAGED ARTIST

| featuring : ryomen sukuna ft. itadori yuji

| warnings : mention of emotional abuse and murder as well as grammar errors

| form : imagine

| word count : 1691

| published : 22 december

| request : Hello, idk if your request are open but feel free to ignore, but just, imagine another reencarnation au (those imaginw of yours are my favourite) where the reader was a painter and Sukuna's personal favourite so he took her and kinda abused her psycologicaly to the point where she would just draw him and only him and he loved that, and in the future she's still an artist that draws Yuuji bc theyre friends but when she sees the tatoos she again draws Sukuna and he feels guilty for the way he treated her and her art in the pastIf It's angst i would apreciate but it's not really necesary

| barista’s notes : hi there~ i apologies for the extremely long wait for your coffee order but now it is there ╲ʕ·ᴥ·　╲ʔ right now it is nearly 5am in the morning and i have no idea why the hell i am awake, but oh well ʕ ᵒ ᴥ ᵒʔ DONT WORRY THOUGH! after this, i am going to sleep and rest up since today it is Fushiguro Megumi’s and Kageyama Tobio’s birthday today ʕ≧ᴥ≦ʔ but other than that, i hope you enjoy your order of a cup of classic black coffee (jujutsu kaisen request!) and i hope you come back soon! ʕ •ᴥ•ʔゝ☆

“Sukuna….please leave me alone...leave the village alone, I beg of you please,” you whimpered to the man that was standing tall and proud with a sadistic smirk painted on his face, while you were on your knees tightly holding onto his large wrist - somewhat slightly covering the black ring marking - as if your weak physical strength could do anything to stop his raising them up and giving a rain upon hell to the people that was residing in the small town you lived in.

You have no idea how you had managed to catch the attention of the most feared curse to both humans and jujutsu sorcerers nor did you know how you managed to become acquainted with the man in front of you. All you knew right now was that the situation you were in at this current moment and time, was not ideal to anyone at all.

You were just a simple artist. A simple village girl artist that was blessed to be hired by the nobility and aristocracy to paint their family portraits with the finest colours that they would offer you, for you to be then paid so you could provide for your village. However, as luxurious as it sounded, you were in love with the idea of just placing a sharped piece of charcoal on a piece of paper or cloth you could find anywhere and sketch your heart designed.

“Leave you alone?” Sukuna questioned you in his deep voice, before slowly crouching down to become face to face with you. “I could never leave you alone, not when you have caught my attention with your craft little one,” Sukuna then stated, as he gently placed a hand on your cheek before using his thumb to caress the soft skin he was touching.

Ever since Sukuna had caught sight of you delicately painting a portrait of a noblewoman with such care and gentleness, he couldn’t help but wonder how your hands were so carefully and how patient you were to make sure every stroke was perfect to your desire. Slowly, he began to wonder what it was like to be the subject of one's view. A subject that someone desired to recreate on a simple piece of paper. However, compared to his past sightings, you were the most talented as well as the most beautiful he had ever seen and once he was able to gain a clear view of the noble woman that you were illustration, he was surprised at how much detail you were able to encapture in your work and just like the noble woman’s reaction, they both were extremely happy with the result of the final product.

“How about this?” Sukuna suddenly asked, causing your head to suddenly shot up leading you to meet eye to eye with the King of Curses, “if you come with me and draw me and me only for the rest of time, I would leave this little village alone as well as the people residing in it. How does that sound, little one?”

‘Come with him? Where? Why? What’s going to happen to me?’

“If you don’t accept this deal, every single person here will die. Burned, stabbed, slashed, any way possible I can. Men, women and even little children’s lives will be gone, and it would be all your fault.”

‘My….fault? But-’

“You know I’m not a patient person little one, I might as well start my massacre while you take your time to think, it will be-”

“NO PLEASE! DON’T, YOU CAN TAKE ME, JUST LEAVE THE VILLAGE ALONE, PLEASE!” you screamed in desperation, as you tighten the grip of his wrist that was within your grasp to keep him down, as you didn’t want to risk him getting away from your sights for the safety and protection of the people within the little town you had lived in since the day your life had started.

With a large cruel grin, Sukuna had somehow managed to pry his wrists free from your tense grip before sliding an arm under your knees as well as an arm around your body lifting you up in a bridal position, while you were just expressing a face of shock and fear, confused and fearful on what you had just accepted in exchange for your life. Where were you going? Was this the end? Were you going to die? How much longer have you had left?

“Don’t worry, I won’t kill you, you’re too precious to be slaughtered little one,” Sukuna answered - as if he knew what you were thinking - before placing a ghostly kiss upon your temple leading you to freeze still, petrified on what he would do with you had moved a single inch.

This was your life now.

A caged artist.

ꕥ

Here you were, sitting on a wooden platform outside with a sharpened piece of charcoal that Sukuna had kindly given you, in order for you to sketch a portrait of him. The second you placed the charcoal upon the paper, Sukuna couldn’t help but stare at the light movements of your hand as you lightly stroke a few lines to create an outline before watching your hand suddenly pause, causing the King of Curses to switch his view from the sheet to you, only to find your look at him with such a frightened look.

“I’m sorry…..I shouldn’t look at you, should I? I apologise deeply,” you softly muttered before quickly turning back to the portrait that was right in front of you - you didn’t want to do anything wrong in his eyes, you knew he could go back on his words and harm the people that you cared about. However, it seemed like Sukuna didn’t care at all, he had managed to trap you into his life and had the power to demand you to draw him every time he would mention he could go back to your little village and burn it to the ground. He relished in the idea of being the subject of your attention.

This is what he wanted.

His little caged artist.

ꕥ

1000 years later and here you were.

Here you were sketching a picture of your best-friend Itadori with a picture of him that you had managed to capture on your phone. Itadori first came into your life shortly after you had enrolled into Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Techincal College around the same time as your other classmate Kugisaki did.

You have no idea what drew you into the boy with the pink hair, but something within you pulled you towards him causing the blooming and somewhat hilarious friendship to start, even causing Fushiguro and Kugisaki to wonder what was going on in your mind to somehow relate to the boy - yet, they didn’t mention their questions since they didn’t really think you knew the answer yourself, and they were correct.

However, as you continued to smoothly glide your pencil across the page, applying different pressures to construct some definitions as well as shadows within the photo you were copying from, you began to suddenly realise that you were starting to draw marking upon his portrait. Markings that were so familiar to the ones the person within him had.

Ever since that day at the Eishu Detention Centre, the sight of Sukuna standing in front of you with his shirt ripped off showcasing his black marking caused a trigger of unknown memories to suddenly flood into your mind, causing excruciating pain that was so unbearable, you thought you were going to pass out from the intense pressure, maybe as even close to dying from the immense pain.

From what you could even recall from the sudden flood of blurry images that appeared in your mind, there was a picture of you drawing with a piece of charcoal with the infamous King of Curses seating right beside you, watching you draw will whispering in your ear the threats that he would bombard you in order for you to make sure that you were only drawing him and him only.

Slowly but in a shaking manner, your drawing hand continued to sketch in Sukuna’s markings that would appear on Itadori’s body as you were somewhat extremely afraid of what the King of Curses could do to you if you didn’t - just how you left 1000 years ago.

Although unknown to you, your best-friend Itadori was standing right behind you, having a clear view of what was happening to you as well as the drawing right in front of him. Seeing your shaking figure with slow but clear teardrops landing on the sketch book as well as the drawing evolving from him to the curse residing inside of him, made him realise how damaging Sukuna was to not only him but also to the people around him. Carefully, Itadori placed a hand over your hand that held the pencil, causing you to flinch before finally noticing that it was your friend that was holding it and not the special grade curse.

Within his Innate Domain, Sukuna also had a clear view on what was happening to you and slowly but strangely began to feel something drop to his stomach with the feeling of his throat closing up at the sight of you slowly breaking down into a small state of insanity. This isn’t what he wanted. He didn’t want his beautiful little one to become lifeless and paranoid like you were now.

Even after 1000 years after your death, your incarnation was carrying the feeling of fear, despair and numbness that you were weighed upon the second you had given your life away to the King of Curses for the sake of your village. Even though you had more freedom then you did then, you still left trapped and lost within the metal cage that Sukuna had enclosed you in. Even with the small hint of guilt that was manifested within the cruel curse’s heart.

You were trapped with no escape out.

You were trapped forever with no key to open the door that was clearly right in front of you.

Forever his little caged artist.

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azenkii · 4 years

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A Long List of Trash Fire Lord Zuko Headcanons

...that i couldn't get out of my head:

(warning: SUPER LONG POST i havent figured out how to trim posts yet)

he's the one who unchains azula despite iroh's protests. she doesn't even try to fight him, just cries into his shoulder and keeps mumbling about how father's going to be so disappointed in her. he takes her to her rooms and has her drink a sleeping draught, then stations the best guards he has left outside her chambers.

his first council meeting takes place literally a day after sozin's comet. he hobbles into the council chamber shirtless with his entire torso covered in bandages and every council member just looks at him like '...what'

he does NOT sleep for like,,a week after sozin's comet and then another two weeks after his coronation. katara, aang and suki try to persuade him to sleep and he doesn't listen. eventually sokka, toph and mai team up to literally drag his ass to bed and tell him he's not allowed to get up until he sleeps (does mai pin him to the bed with her knives? yes. is it kinky or sexual in any way? definitely not.)

he drinks So. Much. Tea. at this point it's practically tasteless to him but he drinks it anyway because he just needs something to do and tea is something familiar. he keeps iroh on his toes because he's constantly asking for new tea blends, uncle, i think i actually tasted the last one,

he flat-out refuses to grow his hair for at least a year after ozai's defeat. the second it starts getting close to his chin he shears it off himself, with his knife, and his stylist has a heart attack every single time

when he's tired he'll occasionally jump up when one of his guards moves. it stops after a bit, but for the first month and a half or so he's really twitchy. when sokka asks, the only explanation he can come up with is that he's not used to having people stand behind him silently and not want to kill him, much less want to protect him (sokka immediately takes him out for a shopping trip and makes a point of walking behind him the entire time, but only on zuko's right side, where he can clearly see it if sokka moves towards him)

when the healer declares azula mentally unstable and in need of an institution, he shuts himself in his office for the rest of the night. no one's allowed in, not even iroh. he finally emerges in the morning, eyes red from crying and sleep deprivation, and tells the librarian that he'd like a list of the best mental institutions in the country, please, the best in the world if you can get them

he loves theatre (is this even a headcanon?). unfortunately it practically died out in the fire nation along with the rest of the creative arts, leaving nothing but small troupes like the ember island players. one of zuko's personal goals (meaning things he wants to accomplish that aren't as important as restoring his country) is to bring back theatre; he finally manages to do it after about eight months or so of being fire lord, along with other arts like dancing, music and sculpture

he establishes a national day of mourning, on the first day of autumn every year, to commemorate the genocide of the air nomads. from 100AG onwards, every calendar printed in the fire nation has it marked. at first it was called the day of repentance, but aang persuaded him to have it changed (by arguing that he didn't want guilt to be a literal staple of fire nation culture)

he introduces literally So Many educational reforms, plus a mandatory class that teaches students about the cultures of the other nations (air nomads included) and how some of their traditions overlap

he turns down the offer of having a statue put up of him in the capital. toph ignores him and does it anyway.

he visits azula regularly, makes sure she's (relatively) comfortable and well-fed, and sometimes just sits down outside her door and tells her about everything that's going on right now ('some of the far colonies have developed their own standardised writing, azula, you wouldn't believe it, and i've asked the fire sages to come visit more often—but you never liked them, did you? oh, well; i'll make sure none of them go into your chambers by mistake')

(he doesn't know it, but when he does this azula sits by the door and listens. she wonders what kind of writing the colonists have developed, and whether or not the fire sages have taken on some new recruits.)

he hates being above anyone else. never sits in the throne if he can help it, nor does he sit on the dais in the council room. when he talks to people shorter than him, he finds himself stooping a little bit to talk to them on their level (the exception to this rule is sokka, who he mocks for being shorter all the way up until sokka grows taller than him, the bastard)

the first time he visits the earth kingdom, the earth king's ministers call a toast. he ends up being the only one who has to sit out, because he's too young to drink by earth kingdom law

once his servants figure out he won't kill them for talking to him, they start becoming a lot more bold, telling him off when he doesn't take care of himself. at one point, they force him to let them take care of him so much that he literally just bolts into the gardens and hides there until the staff rope in mai and ty lee

when he needs to escape, he does one of two things: (a) he dresses up as the blue spirit and does some parkour until he calms down, or (b) he goes to work at the jasmine dragon. (b) happens less often bc the jasmine dragon's in ba sing se, but there's been a few memorable incidents when an earth kingdom diplomat walks in and yells, 'LEE?!' when they see the fire lord

the first court artist who draws him also happens to be the one who drew azulon and ozai. he draws zuko without his scar. zuko takes one look at it and tells him, very calmly, that he'd like him to leave, please.

zuko burns the portrait. he doesn't fire the court artist, but he never calls on him again unless he has to. a second court artist is called, and can't help but be a bit confused when the fire lord tells him to be sure to include the scar

he forgets the crown. a lot. sometimes he walks into council meetings in his sleepwear with his hair tied up in a messy ponytail and a bunch of scrolls tucked under his arm. none of his councilmen have the guts (or the heart) to tell him that this is not, in fact, formal council wear

he goes to feed the turtleducks when he's stressed. he thinks he's being subtle. he's not. the entire palace knows, and they consciously give him space when they see him in the turtleduck garden

most of his staff are older than him, so they look at him and see this teeny tiny fire lord who is So Small and who Must Be Protected. the day after zuko's coronation, the head chef holds a meeting where they commence Operation Do-Not-Let-That-Boy-Turn-Out-Like-His-Father (subsection He's-The-Only-Good-Thing-We-Have)

one night he wakes up to find suki sitting in his room, decked out in full kyoshi warrior garb and makeup, and just about screams blue murder. suki tells him there are suspicions of an assassin in the palace, and would you please stop yelling it's very distracting, we won't be able to hear anyone coming over that racket

zuko gets very, very paranoid of random spirits after that. yeah, suki looks like a possibly malevolent spirit when she's wearing her makeup, what about it? (when he tells sokka he's highkey terrified of spirit shenanigans, sokka just looks at him and says, 'man, the stories i could tell...', and THAT'S when zuko remembers sokka spent like six months more than he did travelling with the avatar)

on his first visit to the southern water tribe, he removes his boots and leg guards, rolls up his pants and kneels barefoot in the snow. even though chief hakoda immediately starts trying to pull him up, he's stubborn as hell and stays kneeling for the entirety of his very long, very sincere apology-on-behalf-of-the-fire-nation speech. he nearly loses his toes to frostbite after that, and both sokka and katara never stop giving him shit for it

the first time he grows a 'beard' is completely accidental. he's stressed over some trade miscommunications with chief hakoda, hasn't slept in a few days...and then when sokka arrives as water tribe ambassador to help smooth things over, he takes one look at zuko and says 'man, facial hair does not suit you'

zuko: facial what now

he checks a mirror to find that he's got stubble covering his chin, dark enough that it almost looks intentional, and holy gods how the fuck did he not notice this before

'UNCLE WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME' 'i assumed you were doing it on purpose' 'WHEN HAVE I EVER DONE ANYTHING ON PURPOSE'

he shaves it all off immediately, of course, which prompts a lot of teasing and rib-poking from sokka until zuko finally snaps that he's scared it'll make him look like his father. sokka stops after that.

(the day after sokka leaves, zuko finds that a mysterious someone has scribbled all over ozai's royal portrait, giving him a frankly ridiculous beard and moustache that literally CANNOT be grown in real life. oddly enough, he can't bring himself to care about the defamation of royal property. he's too busy laughing.)

his paths cross with toph and sokka more than any of the others, because sokka is ambassador and toph is technically still a beifong. most of the time, at formal functions, he ends up sequestered in the corner with toph and a hoard of snacks, and they talk and swear much more than they usually do (zuko's ministers once heard him when he was drunk with toph, and the servants swear the older ministers' ears started bleeding)

he restores fire nation cultural festivals, and in doing so subjects himself to learning a lot of complicated dances

during one memorable week, he wrote so many letters and drafted so much legislation that he ran out of paper. he had to go visit the nearest school and ask for some

he keeps up with his firebending and sword training even though it's hard to fit into his schedule. his ministers refrain from reminding him that he has guards to protect him now; it's still hard for zuko to trust his safety with anyone but himself (team avatar is the exception).

he started sleepwalking about two months into his reign. no one knew why. one time, he nearly sleepwalked right off the edge of a balcony, and one of his guards had to grab him by the back of his robes.

the sleepwalking stopped after around a month and never happened again. at this point it's practically palace legend.

after freeing the war prisoners, he went around collecting every single earthbender-proof wooden cell he could find in the capital and surrounding areas. when he'd gotten most of them, he gathered them into a huge pile in the city square and set fire to them with his own hands.

unfortunately he couldn't do that with the waterbender metal cells but he did get toph to come in and bend them all into pretty shapes (well, toph thought they were pretty shapes. everyone else thinks they're meaningless squiggles)

he learned how to write with both hands at the same time out of sheer necessity (he refused scribes until it became clear that he'd be putting some people out of a job; that was when he started letting scribes write very, very minor things, but all important documents/drafts/letters are still written by him)

he once put the wet end of an ink brush in his mouth instead of the wooden end by mistake. didn't even realise until he bit down to keep it in place and ink went oozing everywhere

when his guards rushed in to find him coughing and spluttering black liquid all over his desk they thought he'd been poisoned but no he's just stupid

on his 17th birthday, his first one after being crowned, he got tackled by team avatar in the middle of the ballroom and ended up at the bottom of a cuddlepile for like ten minutes

this cuddlepile happened at an event that was very much public and very much formal. it was a scandal for weeks

just. fire lord zuko, guys. so much potential

#holy cow this ended up so much longer than i intended #atla #avatar #zuko #firelord zuko #headcanons

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problematicfavesareproblematic · 3 years

Text

NSFW Alphabet- Joe Toye

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Ok, so here’s the 411- Joe gives it his all when y’all are fucking. He’s flipping you around into different positions, he’s gripping whatever part of your body he can get his hands so he can reach deeper faster harder better, Joe is fully prepared to do all the work.

That being said, the boy’s EXHAUSTED by the time he’s done with you. You’re lucky if he doesn’t collapse on you in a sweaty, sleepy mess. But after he’s had a second to regroup and rally- he’s totally down for some pillow talk.

WARNING: it’s going to be in that sexy husky voice of his, which means round two is imminent.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Ok, so our Joe’s hot. Like, really hot. He is fully aware of how good he looks- sometimes to the point of arrogance. If he had to pick just one part of himself, it’d probably be his arms. He likes knowing that he can always fight his way out of a sticky situation, but what he really likes is how your hands feel when they clutch at his biceps while getting sexy. (He also really gets soft when you run your fingers up and down his arms/forearms while sitting around and talking with the guys shh shh shh)

On you? Your hands- this boy never thought of hands being sexy until he watched yours dance across a map while discussing plans of action. His eyes followed their motions like a moth follows a flame- and when they touched HIS HAND for the first time? Boner city. Population: this guy.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

MESSY BOY. OH MY GOD.

He’s BIG into marking you, and if you gave him the ok (he always checks first) he’d gladly paint you in it (he gets very caveman when it comes to marking you as his ffs what a horndog).

But if you aren’t into that? Not a problem. Simply seeing his cum on your hands (which we’ve established he’s super into) is enough for him. Inside of you works too, FYI. He’s very accommodating.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He once secretly got off in class while watching you disassemble and reassemble your rifle. Your fingers moved so fast and confidently that he couldn’t help but wonder what ~other~ confident things they could do (his mind instantly pictured you fingering yourself and he’s only a little bit sorry about how depraved he is). He’d kneaded the heel of his hand against his cock under the table and to this day he has no idea how he wasn’t caught.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Experienced is a good way to describe Joe, bc in cruder company he’d be called a fuckboy. He’s had more partners than the average Joe (lol sorry) but not nearly as many as someone like Tab or Nix or Liebgott have had. He just lived a full-ass life and, due to him being a stud, he’s never been wanting for company.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Anything with him on top is his comfort zone. He likes feeling in control, and he really likes being able to see how good he’s making you feel.

Bonus points if he can grip your neck a lil bit.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Joe is goofy in the sense that he likes to tease you, maybe antagonize you a lil. He knows that you get off on it- that you like when he points out how good he’s making you feel, or lightly chastising you for how quickly you’re going to cum. He doesn’t mean it, and if you were ever to tell him to back off he’d be totally down.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Dark, curly, trimmed but not ~groomed~, you know?

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Personally, He seeks to establish intimacy during the afterglow, curling around you once the sweat has cooled and your breathing has evened out. Face touches, greedy but sweet kisses? Joe Toye’s your guy.

HOWEVER!: If he thinks you could use some during the act, he’s game. If you ask for it? HE’S WHATEVER MORE THAN BEING GAME IS. Get over here, hot stuff.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He does it whenever he feels the urge. It’s not a huge deal for him.

He’d prefer sex with you obviously, but if you’re not feeling it or it’s not a good time then he’ll take care of himself. In a perfect world, you could both do some mutual masturbation. He absolutely thinks of you while he does it, tho.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Choking kink. Wow wow wow. Nothing extreme- he doesn’t feel comfortable cutting off your airflow or anything, but a hand around the throat certainly adds a nice primitiveness to the experience.

If you choke him, however: different story.

Joe finds that EXTREMELY hot. Oh my God. It plays into his weird obsession with your hands/touch. It reminds him that you’re just as into him as he is with you, and he is a big fan of you getting a lil rough with him now and again.

Pin him down by his throat as you ride him? He’s done for.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Any time, anywhere- as long as he can be sure that you won’t be interrupted. There are exceptions to this (see Risk).

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Little touches from you can really get him going. Lacing your fingers with his as you both ride in a truck from location to location. Your eyes finding his as you talk business with someone else. The gentle scratch of your fingernails through the shorter hairs at the base of his skull. You also get a certain look in your eyes when you’re feeling frisky, and the moment he sees that, sexy with you is all that he can think about.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Doing anything to you that leaves more than a bruise. Hickeys? Awesome. Speckles of bruises on your hips from where his fingertips dug into your skin a bit too hard? Hot.

Deep shadows around your throat left behind from him holding you a little too hard? NO NO NOPE THAT’S NOT OKAY.

It reminds him too much of violence, of someone trying to escape the touch of another and being denied freedom. Once, a German soldier had tried to choke you out so you wouldn’t alert anyone of his presence and Joe. Fucking. Lost it. His brass knuckles were nearly fused to his skin by the time Joe was done with them.

Tl;dr- deep marks on his girl? He’ll kick someone's ass. He’ll kick my ass. He’ll kick his own ass

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He’s a fan of both! When he’s going down on you, he’s all about results- what will get you off the quickest and hardest. Overstimulation King (but in a good way).

When you go down on him and make a point to draw the process out as long as you possibly can, he just about cries with need. He’ll beg you to give him more so he can finally cum, but secretly he’s hoping that you’ll keep edging him bc dear god you’re so beautiful and evil and wow your nails scratching down his stomach feels good.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

FAST. Like I said before, he’s all for getting you off quick and hard. He likes the feeling of his muscles trembling with exhaustion as he pistons into you with ruthless speed, likes the way it makes your body shake and bounce and sheen with sweat. He really likes being able to just fall asleep with you afterwards, so his goal is to tire out the both of you.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Ok, so here’s the thing- before you, most of his sexual history could be considered quickies. He didn’t like the idea of lingering too long after doing the do, so a quick fuck in the closet of a bar was his bread and butter. Remember: the quicker the better.

But since you, he’s decided that he’s good with both quickies and...slowies(?). If he’s feeling frisky while you both are out or just about to go out or in any sort of time crunch, he lets you know by coming up to stand behind you and wrapping his arms around your torso, gently pulling you back until you can feel his hardening cock against your backside.

If you rest one of your hands on his forearm and squeeze it- then you’re not feeling it rn and he backs off (or excuses himself to take care of it bc he’s practical like that). If you lean back into him or turn your head to the side so he can kiss your cheek- it’s go time. Meet him in the bathroom, bc someone’s about to get their world rocked.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

JOe is fine with public sex as long as he knows/can predict who or what could possibly figure out what the two of you are doing. And even then, it’s going to be sneaky. You sitting on his lap with his dick in your pussy? Nice. pretending to lean over and whisper something to you while sitting at a booth (but actually fingering you? Dope.

He’ll basically go as far as you let him, but his big thing is not letting the two of you get caught by someone who will hold it over your ehad. Do’t fuck with his girl.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Two and a half rounds- he always starts with getting you off with his hands, thigh, tongue (that’s the half round), then he cranks out the next two fast and unwaveringly. Ideally, the outcome for him is two orgasms for him and three for you. Bonus points if he can wring four out of you, but he’s not going to push it.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Probably didn’t own any of his own, but if you have a vibrator or something he’ll definitely use it on you. Would probably consider letting you use it on him, but only once he’s used it on you a couple times.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Not very much in terms of edging teasing, but verbally he can be very antagonistic.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Loud and proud, but tries to keep the sounds in for as long as he can. You can always tell when he’s close by how vocal he’ll become. Huge whiner whenever you suck his cock or give him a handjob, bc you are so perfect and wicked that it literally overwhelms him.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Has at least one copy of the Kama Sutra. Bill gave it to him as a joke gift but Joe absolutely uses it for inspiration.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Average length but girthy. He’s pretty proud of it.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Pretty high, but something he can control. He knows it’s unrealistic to be able to fuck you whenever he wants (bc otherwise, you’d never leave his bed), so he’s able to channel that desire into anticipation for the next time he gets the chance to fuck you.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

SO FAST, OH MY GOD. But he doesn’t sleep long- it’s more like a power nap and then he wakes up and helps you clean up/cleans you up himself and then gets cuddly. Then he sleeps again. What a nerd.

~ ~ ~

taglist: @sunsetmando @ricksmorty @now-im-a-belieber @tvserie-s-world @holdingforgeneralhugs @mrseasycompany @itswormtrain @mrsalwayswrite @happyveday

#band of brothers imagines #band of brothers x reader #joe toye x reader #joe toye imagines #problematicfavesareproblematic

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yinses · 3 years

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college au! headcanons

gojo satoru, geto suguru & nanami kento

rqst: college au for nanami, geto and gojo?

a/n: so i divided it into three categories to help keep my head straight. honestly almost straight kicked gojo out of college bc i couldn’t decide on a major for him. the jjk discord server is heaven sent for my sanity. ty everyone again 🌺

last time i should have to post these. hoping everything is fine now.

gojo satoru

MAJOR

—he starts off undecided for a long time. the fact that he’s on scholarship allows him to be more flexible with his classes given that he’s not responsible for costs. he grew up with expectations from his family but university is suppose to be his opportunity to spread his own wings and grow from his experiences.

—so he tries a bit of everything- sciences, music and social studies- anything to prompt a spark. (took a business class once and made a point to sit next to nanami everyday just to annoy him) by his second year he’s getting as frustrated as his counselor because if he doesn’t decide soon he’ll be a potential 5th year senior.

—he’s overthinking it but gojo wants to invest in what he believes will make the most significant impact to his ability. his counselor takes those crumbs and runs with it.

—he gets steered towards political science and actually excels at it (that advisor gets a raise). surprises most of the class with his analytical skills because they thought he was just a pretty boy- surprise he’s beautiful and smart.

—develops a vested interest in governmental policies. might run for president one day idk. brings donuts to his early am class. doesn’t share.

SOCIAL

—he’s not the jock per say, but as the star athlete of the basketball team, the school likes to take advantage of his image to draw in sponsors.

—his face is plastered all over the auditorium whether they’re in season or not. sometimes it’s not even to promote basketball, gojo is pretty and they’re not afraid to use it. which also makes him one of the most recognizable faces on campus.

—due to his student athlete contract, he’s not allowed to sign autographs freely in the event they’re attempted to be sold as quick cash. but yikes, he can barely walk to class without someone stopping him for a picture. to the best of his ability he tries to laugh it off, poster boy image and all, but it gets pretty fucking old and annoying quickly. especially when it makes him late for his next lesson and the instructor shows no sympathy.

—his height didn’t only help him get into basketball, but its also convenient when it comes to shouldering politely through the student masses. his golden rule is don’t make eye contact. the busier the crowds the easier it is for him to pretend like he could’t possibly have heard them.

—gojo doesnt scout fraternities, fraternities scout him. but he’s not interested in the slightest. as an athlete he already gets into any social circle he wants without the additional effort. that and he doesnt think he could tolerate an alpha male trying to exert his dominance without barking back.

—loves to show up to parties but always arrives late enough to the point where they don’t think he’s coming. it helps him slip in when he wants too. he’s a connoisseur of all alcohol varieties and a master of beer bong. he’s not necessarily the life of the party but his presence is kind of hard to miss.

RELATIONSHIPS

—he gets too much attention to date casually. most potential suitors are in it more for the benefits they receive than him anyway. he’s got enough on his plate with career indecisiveness and games to try to pursue anything serious before third year.

—he’s not completely celibate though. he tries to keep the same partners as long as he can. not only to keep himself clean and safe but because he often goes into an agreement to keep it casual. sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t. either way he gets coined as a ‘heartbreaker’ before the end of his freshman year. frankly the rumors obscure most of the truth and give him more freedom. people always expect that he’s with someone even when he’s not, which helps keep his invasive teammates off his back.

—gojo can easily graduate without securing something tangible but there is still a window for potential.

—you’re both his consistent classmate and occasional friends with benefits. its the former title that keeps bringing him back around. he cant exactly avoid you without subjecting himself to 8am classes. it helps that the sex is good too.

—he can text you an offer to study together for the next test and roll over after an hour and wreck you for the rest of the week. its hard to tell who gets addicted first but he does appreciate the way your skin looks when youre wearing his marks.

geto suguru

MAJOR

—he’s a STEM kid, particularly interested in bio-genetics to improve overall health. he believes that simply becoming a physician just keeps the issue at bay and his goal is to eradicate the problem at its source.

—since high school he’s been cataloging different programs across the country before deciding what he wanted and putting all his efforts into it. so it’s no surprise when he gets in.

—geto doesn’t need counselors but they’re required so he listens to them prattle on about using university as an opportunity to explore. this man came in with more college credits than most sophomores, he knows what he wants.

—always on-time to class and never misses an assignment. also that kid who goes above and beyond, even on the simple stuff. he rarely gets teased about it, not even behind his back. geto straight up scares some people even when he’s smiling.

—not afraid to correct teachers when they’re wrong. in fact he lives for it.

—he’s the one who graduated early and starts his master’s program before most of his age group declare their own majors.

SOCIAL

—he tends to frequent the same circles- handpicking his acquaintances out of class rosters, clubs and honor lists. he’s less in it for the friendship and more so to scout for potential research partners.

—met gojo in one of his science electives and literally carried him through the class. they somehow end up friends but only really hang out at each other’s places- bunch of chill movie nights and pizza.

—there is no interest in fraternities, but he does join university funded clubs that allow him to further his research. they give him unique access to labs, take him on trips to different conventions and have an alumni list a kilometer long for future collaborations.

—the man does not party but he will occasionally slip into quieter bars to ease some of his frustrations. he actually enjoys karaoke thursdays , not to sing for himself but the drunken antics of others bring him some amusement.

—smokes weed occasionally, but only his own product. it helps him relaxand fan out the stress. he never sells it but sometimes gojo nicks some of his stash. given that he gets drug tested often, geto doesn’t know how the athlete never gets caught.

RELATIONSHIPS

—not interested in seeking out relationships in the slightest. the man has a plan and he’s already married to it.

—he’s not completely immune to sexual advances though and occasionally splurges but none of the friends with benefits crap. he’ll hit it once and stay celibate for the rest of the year easily.

—you might be able to squeeze in as his fellow lab partner. remain invested in the work and not him and he’ll start noticing the little details of your company- the way you subtle perfume lingers on his lab coat hours after you’ve adorned for the day, how he knows you have to keep your hair up for safety precautions but he thinks about running his fingers through it daily and your mind, damn, he wonders what else you can come up with when he has you laid out on his sheets.

—if he’s interested, geto won’t hesitate to broach the topic. he’ll ask you out for coffee and when you try to bring up research he’ll be upfront about his attraction. ultimately if you start dating the two of you are an absolute unit- not that you weren’t before.

—you’re the one variable he didn’t plan for but he’s glad to have added you to the equation.

nanami kento

MAJOR

—he was made for the business world, brought by a CEO who raised him to inherit the company. administration major marketing minor.

—takes initiative in all his classes and is often coined as group leader for projects. mostly keeps to himself and only speaks up when prompted or disagrees with something.

—he takes the earliest sessions possible because it means less people more often than not. doesn’t really care if its in the front, middle or back but always sits near the edge.

—doesn’t really want to but it looks good on his resume so he joins the marketing team where they present mock business plans for competitions. they win a lot. nanami honestly doesn’t care. but again it looks good.

—it only took him a brief summer internship to learn that he found nothing satisfying about board meetings and macro management.

—he decides to invest in law school to handle the company from a legal standpoint instead.

SOCIAL

— sort of like geto, only wants to make friends on a need be basis.

—he would rather keep to himself but knows the benefits of socializing so he interacts with his frequent classmates when he can- through study groups or car pooling to seminars.

—he does join a fraternity, its the same one his father did (and uncles, cousins, whatnot. its a generational thing). its geared towards bettering future leaders. they focus building resumes, charity events and run the organization like a proper business. nanami gets elected president by his third year and runs two terms.

—the only parties he attends are networking events- full of wine and fancy horderves. wine is plentiful but he’s always nursing a scotch on top of his headache. if one more person squeezes their stocks into a conversation he’s going to personally take down the whole market

—zero interest in college party life. spends some of his downtime at the campus theater watching old time movies and classic plays.

—he’s the coffee shop hoe. he wakes up early sometimes just to sit by the window and read some casual literature. has his own thermo that gives him free refills to cart to class. do not talk to this man before he’s had his caffeine.

RELATIONSHIP

—he probably has a high school sweetheart that he’s still clinging too, whether on the same campus or long distance. it helps him because he can’t really see himself pursuing a relationship while focusing on school.

—he’s been with you long enough that you understand his ambitions and won’t feel bested by them. the two of you have a system- starting the day off with sweet ‘good morning’ texts before class and ending the day with long conversations as you digest the last 12 hours.

—nanami is independent but he is thankful to have you to rely on when classes start to overwhelm him. the two of try to escape briefly for the weekend when you can. often going to near by reservations just to get off campus

—other times the two of you will cuddle close on your dorm bed, his long fingers combing through your hair while he reads over some notes for class.

—sometimes you have to be the one to tell him to take a break and to enjoy life while he can. even if that means dragging him the events and concerts hosted on campus. he resists at first but you can see the tension ebbing away as the night comes to a close.

—the two of you start living together in your senior year just because you can. he insists on buying a house. not only because he can afford it because it can be rented out after graduation. always the business man.

#gojo satoru #gojo x reader #geto suguru #geto x reader #nanami x reader #geto suguru x reader #Jujutsu Kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo blessings #gojo satoru x reader #geto blessings #nanami blessings

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babiesdreams · 3 years

Text

+18 (Adult content)

The devil’s choice +18 00 line sixsome

Warnings: Sixsome ofc, oral (g and r), degradation, deep throat, praise, hard dom shit, overstimulation, anal, idk what else.

Reposting bc Tumblr flagged it.

“Let’s just get the assignment done alright?” You shout, stopping the mess going on by the boys surrounding you. You loved your friends but sometimes they could be a pain in the ass. They were just too messy god. “They started it” Donghyuck spits out, but Renjun gives him a look. “Excuse me, should we talk about last night?”

“Don’t you fucking dare” Hyuck replies glaring at him with a serious look. “Why?? I’m sure Y/n wants to know” The boy replies teasingly. “Dude, stop it” Jaemin says grabbing renjun’s arm trying to shut him up. “What would I want to know?” You ask innocently and Yangyang, who’s been sitting next to you the whole time, caress your knee saying a soft “It’s nothing”

“No, I wanna know” you say getting up. Everyone looks at you with a weird expression “What’s it?” You scream, wanting answers. “We talked about...” Jaemin starts saying “Dude shut up” Jeno stops him inmediately. “They were arguing about who would fuck you better” Yangyang spits out.

“THEY?” Haechan screams at him. “I remember you being so enthusiastic about it as well” Jaemin says teasingly, pointing at Yangyang. “And what was your conclusion?” You say looking at Haechan who instantly tsks at you. “It was obiously me” He says proudly, and at first you think he’s just being full of himself as usual, but when nobody protest, you chuckle.

“Oh my god y’all are soooo wrong” You say walking away from everyone towards the kitchen. “Hey, he was basically begging to win, what did you want us to do?” Jeno explains farther more as you dissapear through the corridor.

You start searching for something to eat while you hear a new chaos forming in the living room. You take your time as you think everyone’s going crazy with the fight. “I know Hyuck wouldn’t be the best one” Renjun whispers to your ear as his body gets closer to yours. You can feel his bulge against your butt, slightly hard.

“W-what?” You stutter, feeling the boy’s hand around your waist before he turns you around, forcing you to look at him. “I know I’m the best match for you in here” He whispers getting closer to your lips. “R-renjjun” You whisper trying to get off his hold.

“Hey, get off her, you pervert” Jaemin screams from the door frame and Renjun walks away from your figure, kind of leaving you with some weird neediness. You whimper unconciously by the sudden emptiness the boy leaves you with. Both of the boys’ gazes turn to you, analyzing what just happened.

“Did you just...?” Renjun starts asking and Jaemin looks at him confused “Did she just...?” You turn completely red and shake your head. “Let’s go to the living room” You say walking fastly pass the boys.

When you arrive to the living room the other three boys are standing right next to each other, arms crossed and waiting for you to come back. “We decided that we are gonna let you choose” Jeno says and you start laughing. “What is this Fuck, marry, kill?” You ask confused.

“Kinda” Haechan says flirtly. “I’ll kill Haechan then” You say sipping on the drink you grabbed from the kitchen. “And who would you fuck?” Yangyang asks right away. You choke on your drink, laughing out loud right after. “You guys are so needy, you need to get railed” You say jokingly.

“Said the whinning girl. Bet you’re craving for all of us to fuck you now” Renjun says teasingly. “WHAT?” Haechan asks confused. “She literally whimpered when I got off her in the kitchen” Renjun explains. “That’s true” Jaemin admits.

“No it’s not. And y’all need to calm down” You shout at them, already done with the conversation. “Just admit it” Renjun shouts back, making you back up a little. “I do not-”

“You could have just told us if you were so needy baby” Jaemin says getting closer to you. “You’re so dirty that you want a sixsome? I couldn’t have guessed that, miss innocent” Yangyang spits out, making you blush. “Okay, fine stop” You say, making everyone freeze in their places.

“I-I may be down, but-” You were about to set some rules, but Haechan grabs you before you can say anything. His lips shut yours up, making you unable to protest as his hand travels down your hips. His body direct you to the bedroom, where he lets you fall onto the big bed. You can hear footsteps following you, though you’re unable to tell who they are from, as you keep your eyes closed, getting lost in the kiss.

You eventually feel some hands over your body, but you’re unable to tell who they’re from. “Let me taste her too” You hear Jeno say. Haechan gets pulled away from the kiss by Jeno’s strong arms. The younger boy’s lips get replaced by Jeno’s, who kisses you deeply and heatedly.

You can hear hyuck’s protests mixed with some belt tingling. Someone’s hand starts getting your clothes off, letting you feel the cold air of the room against your warm and wet cunt.

You moan inside Jeno’s kiss when you feel some fingers inside of you, and someone’s tongue pressed against your clit. “She’s so wet, dude” Yangyang says, revealing his position.

On your upper body, you can feel two people sucking on each of your nipples, each one following a different pace and technique. The sensations are overwhelming to say the least.

Jeno gets off the kiss with a heavy breath, allowing you to get some air as well. The view is even more overwhelming. Renjun was the one licking your clit and the two other boys were on eash side of your body licking your breasts. Yangyang looks at you while he fingers you, winking teasingly at your desperate expression.

You let your head fall back, while you feel Jeno’s tongue drawing paths on your neck, in between whispers that you are not quite able to understand. “Who do you want to fill you in first?” Yangyang ask looking right into your eyes. You moan softly, unable to make any sense of your thoughts.

“I’ll be last” Renjun says, stopping his actions for a split second and then coming back. “That’s not fair” Haechan says leaving your nipple with a wet pop. “Let her decide” Yangyang says angrily, stopping his fingers for a moment.

“I-I, Yangyang” You manage to say, just wanting the discussion to be over at last. The boy smiles at your words, getting his pants and boxers off. You close your eyes, not wanting the view to overwhelm you farther more.

You soonly feel Yangyang’s tip against your entrance, concentrating on the feeling of his length stretching your walls, even if the rest of the sensations are not easy to ignore. His veiny dick hits every little spot inside of you, not leaving a single empty space.

“Fuck, she’s so tight” He growls out. You get distracted by Jeno’s whispers on your ear as he says “Good girl, you’re doing great...” And a whole bunch of sweet nothings. You’re too driven by his words that you don’t notice how Yangyang’s thrusts speed up fastly.

Renjun, had climbed out since the boy entered you, getting to your belly, drawing wet paths with his tongue and then repeating them with his fingers. Haechan and Jaemin had stopped sucking your nipples long ago, as they were already too redish.

They were now competing on who leaves more hickeys along your breasts and neck. You are not looking, but your skintone cannot be seen anymore as the purpleish marks are covering your it completely.

Yangyang’s moans mixed up with your own, forming a nice harmony that fills the silence in the room. His dick twitches inside of you, hinting you on how close he actually is. You can also feel a wave of arousal coming, as all the different sensations mix up in your brain.

Before you notice, your walls are completely painted in white, as Yangyang gets out of you. Everyone praises your exhausted self, and caress your body in different ways and parts. After you calm down from your high, Hyuck and Jaemin position themselves.

Jaemin gets behind you and hyuck on top of you. Both of their tips hit your entrances. While hyuck enters inmediately, Jaemin lets his fingers play inside your butt, prepating yourself for the incoming painfully satisfying sensation.

Hyuck starts with a fast pace, as he’s aware of how overworked your body may feel and he doesn’t want you to. Jaemin finally enters you, after a long foreplay with his fingers. And it still feels somehow painfull, even though pleasure brushes the pain away. “Fuck, you’re so tight and so good for me baby” Hyuck moans out, while his sweat makes his skin glow down the lighting of the room, making a perfect picture on front of your eyes.

Both penetrations coordinate and uncoordinate at different timings, making you confused for determing who’s inside of you at the moment. Jeno, has taken his pants and boxers off as well, making you suck on his dick. Though your movements don’t really make sense as your brain is really unable to think anything.

Hyuck cums first, letting his cum mix with yangyang’s as the both come out of yous insides slowly dripping down the mattress. You shake out of pleasure at the warm feeling. Jaemin is also close, though he makes you cum first, drawing circles on your clit as he thrusts into you faster and deeper.

He hits places you didn’t know that existed, making a second climax brush over your whole body. He cums right after with loud yet low moans, filling your ass with his white hot cum. You lay down, heavy breathing, taking another break from the situation. They all repeat their praises, including Jeno, who gets his dick out of your mouth, to let you rest for a bit.

After some minutes, you collect yourself and sign the boys to continue their actions. Jeno drags you to the floor, getting you into a kneeling position. He grabs your hair strongly as he guides you through his length, hitting the back of your throat with his tip.

You gag everytime he does, and it seems to somehow motivate him, as he keeps doing it faster and deeper. Precum starts coming out of his tip, mixing up with your saliva as it drips down your mouth. The view is quite something. Everybody is just watching in awe at how beautiful you look like that.

He finally cums inside your mouth, making the dripping even messier as it falls down the floor. He pulls out of your mouth, letting you breathe after you swallow his cum. His hand caress your cheek, making a soft gesture after his brutal actions.

“You did great babygirl” He says placing a kiss on your soft lips. Your whole body shakes due to the overwork and the new neediness Jeno worked out on you. But still you smile at him, eanting to give back some of the love he was giving you.

“Are you too tired?” Renjun asks kind of tired of waiting. You shake your head at him, blinking slowly as you collect yourself once more. Renjun’s eyes are fixed on your figure, analyzing the truth behind your words.

He stands up getting closer to your kneeling figure. His arms grab you in the air, letting your legs surround his waist. He drags you back to the bed, putting you down as he does. Your body gets hug by the nice texture of the bedsheet’s fabric.

The softness of the sheets drives you in as you get lost in the feeling of his hold around your body. His tip enters you as soon as you fall into the mattress. His length enters completely getting the rest of the boys’ cum to move in your walls.

Everyone stays aside as Renjun’s posture is basically not allowing them to be nearby, so they are basically forced into watching how he fucks you senseless.

His hips move fast as he thrusts you, his hands wiping the sweat off your forehead. Tears start falling down your cheeks as pleasure overwhelms you. His fingertips wipe them off. “Look at you, crying for my dick, how pathetic” The sudden degradation makes you blush, and the boy notices right away, getting encouraged by it.

“You have just been craving for my cock all day huh?” He growls out as he speeds up. Your moans leave your lips uncontrollably. “That’s right, I’m the one who fucks you the best after all, aren’t I?” He asks teasingly and you simply nod. “SAY IT” He shouts at you, rubbing your clit in fast circles.

Your whole body shakes as his moves drive you crazy. “You are the best, renjun” You manage to say in between desperate moans. He stops his fingers, keeping his pace steady on you. “You fucking love this don’t you? God you’re such a whore” He growls, getting closer to his own climax.

“Cum for me, baby, let them know, who’s the best” Renjun says under his breath and shortly after you cum again, losing count of your highs. He cums shortly after, but unless the rest of the boys, he stays inside of you, caressing your neck, collarbone, chest, belly, and all the way back up, while you calm down.

“You did an amazing job Y/N, he says kissing every spot his fingertips already touched. The rest of the boys keep praising you as well, getting closer now. And just like tha in between soft touches and kisses you fall asleep peacefully.

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Masterlist –requests open– How to request? Check out your score.

#nct scenarios #nct imagine #nct smut #nct reactions #nct dream smut #sixsome #kpop scenarios #kpop imagine #kpop reactions #kpop scenario #kpop smut #wayv smut

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realcube · 3 years

Note

hi bestie bokuto and saiki anon is back with another request,, idk what to call myself bc i love ur blog and love requesting random hcs to you bc i love your writing sm :( anyways i was wondering if you could do hcs where bokuto’s and saiki’s s/o just got acrylics and they try gently scraping their long nails they recently got against their scalp/thru hair and along their back? 🧍 ily

GIVING HIM A MASSAGE

characters ♡ (multi-fandom) bokuto, sakusa, daichi & saiki k

tw ♡ fluff, gn!reader, reader wears aryclics. mentions of death, timeskip! sakusa (suggestive) & mentions of spiders

a/n ♡ AAAA you came just in time!! i’m changing my tags :)) would you like to be 🔮lovely or 🦉lovely??? (crystal ball represents saiki and the owl is bokuto-) unless you have another emoji in mind!

KŌTARŌ BOKUTO had a deal with you; he’d pay for your nails in exchange for a massage and kisses. the kisses had been delivered already and he sat on the carpeted floor in front of the couch — where he’d usually sit while you massaged him so y’all could watch a show on the tv while you worked — with an expectant expression, making grabby hands at you as soon as you entered the living room. you cocked a brow, about to play dumb but you didn’t even get the chance as he began to chant, “relaxing time! show me what those pretty nails can do.” wow, couldn’t he be a little bit more stubborn? you sighed, approaching the couch and swinging your leg around his shoulder to take you usual seat behind him, “it’s not the nails, bo. it’s my fingers that do the work.” his lips parted to form a small ‘o’ shape as he fumbled with the remote to put on the show you guys have been watching, “really? maybe i should start paying for your nail removal, then. if i did, would you give me another mas--” “no.” bokuto let out a dramatic sigh of defeat, at least he tried. then, a small smile tugged on the corner of his lips as your fingers laced through his hair, pads of your fingers rubbing his scalp in such a way that made him hum in pleasure..

(minors dni) KIYOOMI SAKUSA was tense and refused to get a massage from a professional masseuse because he didn’t want to strip and have a stranger touch his body so intimately; the mere idea grossed him out. however, the knots in his back weren’t going to be fixed by even more over-exertion and poor posture, hence you took it upon yourself to help him.. after you got your nails done, of course. so as soon as he came back from practise and entered him bedroom, he was greeted by you standing next to your shared bed with an intimidating expression, “take off your clothes.” you commanded, gesturing to the bed. happily obliging, sakusa tossed his clothes into the laundry basket and was about to pull you into a heated kiss but immediately frowned when you swerved his advances and pushed him face-first onto the mattress. then, you began to run your cold fingers up his flushed back, rubbing deep circles into his skin which resulted in involuntary sighs of satisfaction escaping his lips. despite the fact this wasn’t the stress relief he was expecting, it was much better than he could imagined — it was as though he had ascended. however, he was so lost in the pleasing feeling of your cool nails tickling his skin, he hardly noticed how rough you were being and this was only brought to his attention the following day when atsumu’s nosy-ass inquired about the marks on sakusa’s back in the changing room, accompanied by a comment that made kiyoomi scowl.

SAWAMURA DAICHI smiled as you showed him your nails with such enthusiasm, “they look beautiful, (y/n).” your experience at the nail bar was all you had been talking about since you arrived at his house — which was only like three minutes ago — and honestly, he wasn’t opposed, he loved hearing you talk so passionately about something. he parted his lips to inquire about the price but before he could utter a single word, you stepped behind, kneading his broad shoulders with your palm which resulted in a shiver running down his spine, “what are you doing?” he chuckled, crouching slightly so he didn’t have to arch his back for you to reach. “tryin’ to give you a massage, does it feel alright?” you replied, chopping across his back with the side of your hand like the masseuses in movies do. “yeah.” there was no uncertainty in voice — that you could pick up on, at least — which brought a small smile to your face. your pointy nails dragged along his back, absentmindedly drawing letter and symbols that you thought daichi wouldn’t pick up on as he laxed expression and low murmurs of satisfaction suggested he was too engrossed in the feeling to notice, but you were proven wrong as you finished tracing ‘i ❤ u’ onto his skin. you were only snapped out of your thoughts when your boyfriend let out a hearty chuckle, “i love you too.”

KUSUO SAIKI was on defence. being a psychic who’s powers rivalled those of god, he never would’ve thought that he would be caught out by confidant — who was also his romantic partner — and a set of devilish claws. to think, he was originally foolish enough to think of them as pretty since they were complementing colors and nice shapes. plus, he had no reason to believe they were dangerous. until you began sneaking up behind them and using your nimble fingers to mimic the movement of an insect on his back. the first time you pranked him, he almost energy blasted you straight to hell. fortunately for him, you took the hint and felt extremely bad for taking advantage of his fears like that, offering to give him a massage as an apology. despite the fact he made it painfully apparent that he didn’t want to be near you until you got those wicked talons removed, here he was; sitting crossed-legged with his head rested between your thighs as you gently ran your hands through his hair, down his neck and across his shoulders. and the worst part was, he was actually enjoying it! the feeling of your finger working expertly at every knot in his neck and lifting what felt like the world’s weight of his shoulders left him helplessly melting into your touch. plus, his previous concerns about your hands in his hair were proven irrelevant as you make it a point to be extra careful around his clips. “thank you, (y/n).” he hummed, voice muffled slightly as his cheek was pressed against your thigh. “and sorry for almost killing you earlier.”

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plus-ultra-oof · 3 years

Text

Pretty | SakuAtsu | Haikyuu!! | Tickle Fic

A/N: Ok hi so I wrote this a little while ago bc my SakuAtsu brainrot never stops and I figured I might as well share it. This is my first time posting a T-fic so please be kind lol. Also, sorry if the formatting is a mess I am on my phone.

Disclaimer: This takes place post timeskip so minor spoilers for Haikyuu! It’s nothing to major other than some vague things mentioned in passing. Also includes swearing and centers around tickling within a romantic setting (all sfw).

Summary: Sakusa’s stubborn as hell, but Atsumu is more than willing to get his boyfriend to go to sleep by whatever means necessary. Especially if that means he gets to see that pretty smile of his.

——————————————————

“Ya know, yer hair is really soft Omi,” Atsumu said, breaking the calm silence that had settled over the room. It was actually Kiyoomi’s room in his apartment this time. Atsumu was lying on his bed, running his hands through Kiyoomi’s dark curls as the other man laid across the bed, head placed conveniently in the setter’s lap as he attempted to read a book. He was far too tired to do so, in Atsumu’s professional opinion. The way his eyes kept falling shut for longer between blinks and how his grip on the hardcover kept shifting until he was barely holding it open where it lay against his propped up legs supported it too.

“You already- said that,” he replied, trying for flat and uninterested but the cute yawn that interrupted his sentence completely contradicted his unbothered persona.

It’d been a long practice for everyone, but especially the spikers. Both Bokuto and Sakusa had to run an insane amount of cut shot drills on top of their usual work. Just watching it had made Atsumu tired, so he could only imagine how Omi was feeling. The man had been practically dead on his feet when they’d gotten back to their complex, so the way he had melted into their bed upon finally brushing his teeth was unsurprising. His attempts at staying up were though. Atsumu blamed that on his insistence on keeping his routine no matter what.

The stubborn bastard could barely keep his eyes open, but sure, making it through a whole chapter of that thick ass book was totally plausible.

“It’s true though,” Atsumu was quiet for a moment and then, when he got no response he added on, “and it’s so pretty too,” For that he received a half hearted glare that was dampened by the way he could feel the man leaning into his touch as his fingertips scratched lightly again his scalp. The twin smiled, his boyfriend really lost his filter when he was this tired.

Gone were the biting remarks and cold expressions, leaving him far more pliant than he would ever admit to. Hell, here he was, letting Atsumu play with his hair and letting out little sighs of contentment. His eyes were even gradually falling closed as he relaxed into his boyfriend’s touch.

The harsh lines of his face were softened by the low light in the bed room, and with his brows uncreased by any worries and his hair pooled around his head like a dark halo, he looked almost angelic. Like something out of one of those fancy paintings.

“Yer so pretty Omi,” Atsumu murmured absently, the words falling from his lips easily. It was a statement to him. A simple truth of life.

The sky was blue, volleyball was the best, and Atsumu’s boyfriend was a damn masterpiece.

This was only proved further when his cheeks began to warm, the pink flush only complimenting smooth skin and pouty lips, twitching down into a petulant frown despite his flustered state.

“Shut it,” he mumbled in reply, unable to come up with a proper comeback in his half asleep state. Atsumu smirked. Another thing he loved about sleepy Omi was his inability to disguise any of his reactions. It always made messing him even more fun.

“Omiiii, Yer so cute m’gonna dieeeeee,” he teased, leaning down to admire his expression more closely. The new angle let him see the minuscule twitch of the corner of his lips, a sign that his adorable boyfriend wasn’t really as grumpy as he was trying to appear, “Aw is that a smile I see?” Said boyfriend had abandoned all hopes of reading his book in favor of moving off of Atsumu’s lap and onto his side of the bed, laying back and closing his eyes.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about Atsumu,” he stated, his voice still managing to stay level and unaffected, a true testament to Sakusa’s insane amount of self control, “Now its late, let’s go to sleep,” Too bad Atsumu was too much of an asshole to let him be. And, he knew him well enough to chip away at that carefully crafted mask until his boyfriend was puddy in his hands.

Miya pouted and moved closer, letting his right hand come back up to rest in his curls again and the other land at his back, rubbing slow circles into it the way he knew Sakusa liked.

“Oh c’mon baby don’t be like that, I just want ta see that gorgeous smile of yers,” he let his chin rest on Kiyoomi’s shoulder, pressing close to his back as his arm trailed down to wrap around his waist. He placed a light kiss against his boyfriend’s temple. The first in a trail that led down his cheek to his jaw and then took a detour down and up his neck to reach his ear again, earning soft sighs and hums as he went. Atsumu smiled, his Omi really was sweet like this: All peaceful and relaxed and unassuming, “Do me a favor and lemme see it?”

He shifted from kissing at his neck to mouthing lightly and letting his lips graze the expanse of soft pale skin at his disposal and the reaction was immediate, even if Sakusa tried to hide it. Sure, he stayed quiet, but Atsumu could feel the shivers that ran through him when he started and how his shoulders began to shake the longer he went on. He felt him jump when he let the fingers at his waist trace lazy shape into his toned stomach.

“Atsumu-“ His name was rushed out in a breathy way that only Atsumu got to hear.

“Yes Omi?” He purred, directly into his boyfriends ear, savoring the little squeak that came from the man shaking in his arms.

“N-no,” he whined, actually whined, shaking his head in an attempt to rid himself of the tingly sensations that were quickly perforating his sleep addled mind and making him want to give into the bouncy feeling rising in his chest.

“Why not Omi? M’just tryin ta kiss ya?” He followed his movements easily, continuing the playful torment of his boyfriend.

“You- you know exActly whehy not!” The squeak was louder this time and Kiyoomi even let a few titters loose as Atsumu started using his other hand to lightly scribble at the other side of his neck while simultaneously blowing into his ear.

“Ooh was that a giggle there Omi? What’s happenin’ baby? Somethin’ funny?” Atsumu knew that if he could, Sakusa would be griping about the teasing and how this whole thing was immature and unfair. For now though, he was too busy trying (and failing) not to devolve into a ticklish mess, so Miya was content.

“Nahaha stahahap yohuhu bahahastard!” He forced out through his giggles. The sound was light and filled with gasping breathes and squeals. Kiyoomi hated it, but it was one of Atsumu’s favorite sounds. Especially when he knew he was the cause of it.

Whether it came from unraveling him like this or timing a sarcastic joke just right, he savored it each time he got to hear it, so he didn’t appreciate it when both ungloved hands flew up to muffle it.

“Hey what’dya do that for?” He asked, his own pout forming on his lips as he leaned up to see his boyfriend’s face. His eyes were squeezed shut again and the flush was even brighter now. What was really captivating though, was the way his whole face seemed to brighten, even with his open mouth smile covered up.

Atsumu couldn’t help but stop and stare for a few seconds before remembering the task at hand. To see that pretty smile for real.

“C’mon Omi, just pull yer hands away or m’gonna haveta resort to extreme measures,” Atsumu increased his effort at leaving barely there kisses along Kiyoomi’s neck, feeling his heart race against his lips when he reached the pulse point. This got a cacophony of muffled squeaks and giggles before he finally gave into instinct and moved one of his hands away to push at his face.

As soon as it came up, Atsumu saw his chance and took it.

The hand that was drawing shivery patterns over sharp hip bones immediately skittered up Sakusa’s side to find its mark just above his ribs, sending the arm crashing right back down with a muffled shriek.

“Pffft phmp uff,” Came the dampened response as the other hand stayed stubborn in its quest to deprive Atsumu of his happiness. He decided to take it up another notch, because despite his tiredness, his Omi-Omi was still able to put up a good fight. He wouldn’t have him any other way: As headstrong as he was talented.

“Fine, don’t say I didn’t warn ya,” Atsumu leaned back just enough to leave some space between himself and Kiyoomi’s back. For insurance and safety purposes, he threw a leg over his waist to make sure he would fall off the bed.

Then all bets were off.

He started actually scratching at his armpits in tandem with leaving sloppy kisses along his spine and shoulder blades and any other part of his back he could reach at the moment, and the reaction was instantaneous and oh so satisfying.

“Mmmmphhhuhuhuck AtsuhuHU! NaHAHA STAHAP!”

“What babe? Somethin’ wrong?” He made sure to speak against the skin of his back, his words sending ticklish tremors through Kiyoomi as his worst spot was attacked.

“NOHOHOT THEHERE AHATSUHU!” Something seemed to switch off in his brain as his arms finally fell limp at his sides and he threw his head back against the pillows, laughing fully now. When they did, Atsumu immediately toned it down, abandoning his underarm in favor of leaving feather light scratches down the sides of his boyfriend’s back, making him shiver and keeping him caught up in his giggles without torturing him too bad.

Omi could never say that he was anything but nice about this....Well at least at this particular moment. Sakusa definitely kept a dated list of the times that his boyfriend had ruthlessly abused this specific weakness, but that was besides the point.

“Ahatsuhuhu,” Atsumu looked up at the sound of his name falling from upturned lips and found himself mesmerized by the sight.

Now that Kiyoomi had given up on stopping him he’d shifted to flop down on his stomach, bracing his head on his arms as he tried to contain the shaky laughter still spilling easily from his mouth. His hair was tousled from the struggle and his eyes were teary from laughing so hard and he was in an eternal state of flushed and fuck he was beautiful.

Too pretty for his own good. And Atsumu’s. At this rate, he was gonna die before he got to the Olympics.

He could just see it now: Miya Atsumu, beloved son, brother, boyfriend, and teammate. Cause of death: Seeing his godlike boyfriend laugh his heart out.

Shit, ‘Samu was right, he was whipped.

“Tsuhuhuhumuuu, m’tired,” Whiny giggles followed by a familiar yawn brought him out of his thoughts and he let his fingers slow to a stop, moving up in the bed to be beside his still giggling boyfriend. He turned him over onto his back before placing his book onto the nights stand and turning out the light.

“A-asshole,” Sakusa groaned, through breathy pants, giving him a half-hearted shove as he turned to face the blonde.

“But ya love me,” he teased moving in closer to lay his head on the dark haired man’s chest, listening patiently as his heartbeat finally started to slow down.

“You suck,” he murmured in response, his tone empty of any real malice. Plus, the way he was snuggling closer and lacing their hands together across Atsumu’s waist contradicted his words anyway.

Atsumu smiled and took a final look at his boyfriend before closing his eyes to follow him into sleep. And as a man of a limited vocabulary when it came to most things other than volleyball, his last thoughts prior to drifting off were as simple as they were true: Omi’s so pretty.

#sakuatsu #ticklish!Sakusa #haikyuu! tickle fic #tickle fic #tickle #tickles #tickling #fanfiction #haikyuu!!#thanks for reading

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deliasqueen · 3 years

Text

Soulmate Alphabet

Summary: So this is soulmate headcannons, but through the alphabet.

Character: F!ReaderxCordelia Goode

A/N: I am so excited for this. XD I hope y’all like this, and I really want to do it with all of sarah’s ahs characters so please let me know. :) Also big shoutout to @winters-witch-bitch for giving me motivation bc this would have never been completed.

aging (stops at 18 until you find your soulmate so the two of you can grow old together)

You were 15 when you met Cordelia. Your parents had dropped you off at the academy to learn how to use your magic. You both felt this strange connection to each other, but neither ever mentioned it. Cordelia being a year older, had her 18th birthday first. The day of everyone teased her because this could be her last birthday for a very long time. You two had grown very close in the time but you were both too scared to bring up the soulmate topic. The next year Cordelia realized she was still aging, so confusion filled her. Everyone at the academy immediately looked at you. Realization shot through you so with this huge amount of courage you grabbed Cordelia and kissed her in front of the teachers and students. Immediately you both knew you were each other’s soulmates. All the students, and Myrtle, started cheering and a few girls started passing around money because they had started a bet that you two were each other’s soulmates.

body art (doodles that a person draws on themselves appear on their soulmate’s skin)

One Saturday, you were relaxing watching a movie on your couch. You were reaching into your snack bowl when you saw a blooming flower tattoo appear on your wrist. At first you were a little panicked but quickly realized it was from your soulmate getting the tattoo.

For Cordelia, you have always been the type to do random doodles on your skin with a marker or pen, so as Cordelia would be teaching random stars, flowers, and hearts would appear on her skin. The girls would always tease her about it saying things like, “Oooo someone has a future Van Gogh.”

colors (aka the standard soulmate au where the world is black and white until you meet your soulmate and see colors)

You had seen the video Cordelia made about recruiting witches, so you decided to head to New Orleans. You went because you were a witch who could definitely use some guidance but there was also something about her that just drew you in. When you did get to the academy, you were walking into her office when you both made eye contact. Immediately something in the air shifted. You both cringed at the splitting headache that came with finally seeing color. The beauty of color rushed both of your visions, and then the realization that you two were soulmates hit. An awkward excitement filled the room because you two realized you finally found your person.

damage (done to a person also translates into their soulmate’s body-cuts, bruises, and all)

When Cordelia got attacked by the witch hunter, it was bad for both of you. You were at the mall with your best friend when Cordelia was attacked. The second the hunter threw the acid on her, you felt it too. You had fallen to your knees and cried out, similar to Cordelia. Your best friend immediately panicked and called for help. When you got to the hospital, they told you that it was because your soulmate was attacked with acid. The fact that your soulmate got acid thrown in her face was concerning, but once you two were together you understood what had happened, and it broke Cordelia’s heart that you got so hurt too.

Being a skater, you were constantly falling and getting scrapes and bruises. Cordelia would wake up and find random bruises and scrapes on her shins and elbows. It always made her so curious as to what you were doing.

empathy (soulmates can sense one another’s presence and feel each other’s exact emotions even when miles away)

One time when your mind was being especially awful, Cordelia could feel it too. Cordelia has dealt with similar feelings, but she knew it was more than her own mind. It would always make her heart hurt knowing her soulmate was out there hurting and she couldn’t comfort you.

first (the first thoughts your soulmate thinks when seeing you are written on your skin)

When you had first met at the coven, the first thing Cordelia thought when she truly looked at you was, “This gorgeous woman is my soulmate.” So that was what appeared on your ribcage, and honestly you loved it so much. The first thing you thought when you looked at Cordelia was, “Holy shit this lady is mine.” So whenever you see that on Cordelia you cringe, blush, and want to hide, but Cordelia will always laugh and tell you how much she loves it.

guardian (it is said that the person who saves you from a near-death experience is your soulmate—drowning, car crash, etc.)

A couple days before your interview at the academy, you were walking down Bourbon Street in the evening. You were exploring the city when a drunk driver ran a red light, unbeknownst to both of you who you two were, Cordelia had used her powers to swerve the car around you. You looked around in shock but couldn’t figure out who did it. Cordelia just saw someone about to get hurt, so she saved you. When you two had realized you were the two in that situation, everything made a little more sense about your love.

heartbeats (the soulmates share the same heartbeat—when one feels panicked, shocked, etc., the other can feel it too)

When Cordelia had lost Misty and was panicking trying to find her, you were too. You were at work when the panic hit. The previous week you had been feeling uneasy, but it was never too bad. You were talking to your boss when suddenly your chest felt tight and extreme worry clouded your mind. Your boss had grabbed a chair for you to sit in, but she was thoroughly confused as to what was happening. Once you had gotten your emotions in check, you had to awkwardly explain to your boss why you just started sweating and panicking from practically nothing.

identifier (a word or symbol which is imputed to your soulmate is somewhere on your body)

You have a pentagram on your wrist that you had gotten from your grandmother. Cordelia had always had one on her back by her left hip, but she never knew why she had it until she met you. She had always assumed that it was from her soulmate, so it made her think that you were a witch or had some sort of magical ability.

juxtaposition (your soulmate is the exact opposite of you, yet you find yourselves complementing one another)

Cordelia is a responsible, powerful, confident, soft spoken, methodical, put together leader while you are this free spirited, shy, anxious, loud artistic mess. While you can be self-deprecating comparing your differences, Cordelia always stops you and tells you how much she loves your talents, mind, and personality. You two really challenge each other sometimes with the drastically different personalities, but it is one of the ways your relationship is constantly growing.

keys (and locks are randomly dispersed to soulmates on chains when they are born. when in proximity, the lock and key will act as magnets and bring the two soulmates closer together until the key is placed in the lock and a gratifying click is heard, unlocking the chain)

You were sitting in a little café in the French Quarter enjoying a coffee when you felt your seat move. You had started to be pulled closer to the front of the café when you realized what was happening. Excitement and nervousness filled you as you were trying to guess who your soulmate is. You had finally been pulled to the door when Cordelia’s key was inserted into your lock. Instantly you pulled her into a hug and melted into her arms. You were completely blown away by her beauty and so incredibly excited to have found your soulmate.

last (the last words your soulmate says are written on your skin)

Prior to Mallory resetting the timeline, Cordelia had died. You wanted to stay back with Madison and help distract Michael, but Cordelia wouldn’t let you. She wanted you with her, so you went with her, Myrtle, and Mallory into the room with the tub. Cordelia didn’t want you to watch her die, so she had used her magic to hold you in the room with the other two witches. You were panicking because you didn’t want her to die but you couldn’t beak her hold. Myrtle had told you it was no use fighting it, so you just accepted it and fell limp in her magical hold. As you were sobbing, the hold broke and suddenly words appeared on your arm as Myrtle cried out Cordelia’s name. You looked down to see “Satan has one son, but my sisters are legion motherfucker” written onto your right arm.

marks (marks or stains of the color black are somewhere on your body (palm of your hand, knuckles, knee) until you and your soulmate finally make physical contact. once the mark is touched, it fades to be consistent with the person’s skin color)

You always had this black smear on the palm of your hand; it looked like you rubbed your palm with black acrylic paint. People with less visible marks loved to point it out, so you were ready to get rid of it. Once you had met Cordelia you immediately took her hand in yours, and when you pulled away the mark had faded to match the rest of your hand.

Cordelia’s mark was on her shoulder. So later on in your relationship when you two had started to love and trust each other, she had asked you to touch it. You ran your hand over her shoulder, sending a shiver down her spine. As soon as you lifted your hand, the mark had faded away, being replaced with the color of her pale skin.

nurse (the touch of a soulmate can heal you from affliction and vice versa)

Even though you were both witches, when one got hurt you two didn’t need to use magic. Because Cordelia is the Supreme, she only ever got headaches, nothing like papercuts or bruised knees from banging into a table. So whenever she isn’t feeling well, you have her lay her head in your lap and you rub her head and lightly comb your fingers through her hair. This always makes her headaches go away and leaves you with a very sleepy girlfriend.

In your case, being as clumsy as you are, Cordelia is constantly having to come find you to heal your wounds. Whether it’s a broken beaker in the greenhouse that cut your hand, or you burned yourself practicing pyrokinesis, Cordelia always rushes to your side to heal you. The girls think it’s ridiculous because any one of them can heal you immediately with their powers, but you only want Delia to heal you.

opportune outfit (soulmates will eternally color coordinate, even if they have not met one another yet, and often times have similar patterns in their clothing)

You and Cordelia have always worn white, black, light pink, and navy-blue colored outfits. Sometimes you would both wear a floral print outfit. Once you had moved into the academy, you two were adding your clothes into her closet. You both quickly realized how similar your outfits were. It was like looking at the same aesthetic board twice. While you aren’t really big on dresses, your button up shirts matched her dresses. Your favorite outfit to match with Delia was her light pink blouse and your light pink button up. Loving fashion, you are always so happy to see your similar outfits.

passion (when soulmates meet, one of their passions blend into the other person)

You had soon realized after meeting Cordelia you had this intense need to garden. Never being the flower type, usually the one who can’t keep a plant alive if it was your last job on Earth, this was really confusing at first. Then you quickly realized it was because of Cordelia. You told her about it and her eyes lit up with joy. She rapidly transmutated the both of you to the greenhouse, and you spent the entire evening learning about flowers, spells, and different ways to tend to the plants. Now you two spend your time in the greenhouse together tending to the different greenery.

One day when Cordelia was in her office, she got this sudden urge to paint. It wasn’t just a little oh I want to paint someday, it was an I need to paint a huge canvas right now. So she went to find you, and to her luck, you were working on a painting. She had walked up to you and wrapped her arms around your waist, “Hey baby can you show me how to do that?” You were a bit taken aback by her question, but you would never deny her of anything especially something you love, so you showed her. You put the paintbrush in her hand and guided her wrist around the canvas. The painting hangs above the fireplace in your bedroom, and every Friday evening you paint together.

quizzes (revolving around one’s personal aspects, skills and ambitions are given to every person once they turn 18, and the results read who your soulmate is based off of your collective answers)

You had answered your quiz with your life goals, hobbies, interests, knowledge, and general information about you. You knew how the quizzes work; you get your soulmate based off opposite answers. Like people always say, opposites attract. You had turned your quiz in over mail a few days after your 18th birthday. About a week later you got a letter in the mail with the name Cordelia Goode and how to contact her. A few days later you had finally built up the courage to reach out to her. A part of you was hesitant because she hadn’t reached out to you either, but you just settled on the fact that she was nervous. Once you had called her, you were so happy you did. Your assumption that she was nervous was correct, she was shy and you found it cute. You two had hit it off, so you both planned on meeting up later in the month.

red string (bonds two soulmates together for a lifetime and all come in varying lengths—imagine the trouble of only being able to walk certain distances or having to sleep on the edge of your bed)

You had always wanted to travel to the other end of your string. Your parents had told you not until you turned 18, so the day it finally came you were over the moon. You could never travel too far west, so you knew you had to go east. The week after your 18th birthday you set out on the road. The most exciting part to you was she could be anywhere. After hours of driving, you finally ended up in New Orleans. The string didn’t have too much tension, so you knew you were getting closer to her. You followed it until you landed at Miss Robichaux’s Academy for Exceptional Young Ladies. You were extremely excited and unbelievably nervous to just walk in there. You realized how your soulmate might not be ready for this, but it was too late to turn back now. Cordelia had realized her string was becoming less tense by the hour, so she knew you were coming. She was nervous because she wasn’t prepared at all. She had spent the few hours she had getting as dressed up as she could, like she was preparing for a date. You finally gathered the courage to walk up to the door and knock. Cordelia knew it was you at the door so she transmutated downstairs to get the door before anyone else could. Once the door was open, you realized this beautiful girl in front of you was the other end of your string, and you were already so in love.

songbird (any songs a person sings will get stuck in their soulmate’s head for the duration they decide to sing it)

There was this one month in particular where you had WAP by Cardi B stuck in your head. Much to Cordelia’s displeasure may I add. It wasn’t that she didn’t like it because it was a woman singing it, it was just too vulgar for her taste. Cordelia is a very proper woman, so constantly hearing the lyrics of WAP in her head when she was teaching or in a meeting with other witches was distracting to say the least. For a few nights she made you sleep on the couch because she wanted the song out of your head. But being real, you found it hilarious.

For you, whenever Cordelia was working on paperwork or taking a shower, she always lowly sings Fleetwood Mac songs. So you would be going about your day when suddenly Rhiannon or Never Make Me Cry was playing in your head. It always warmed your heart to know Cordelia was in a good mood.

timers (are set on the wrist of every person once they are a certain age, slowly counting down until the day they meet their soulmate)

On Cordelia’s 30th birthday a watch was set on her wrist, and it read 730 days. It filled her with hope she was beginning to lose. Even though 30 is not old, she felt as if she was running out of time to be with her soulmate. Once the watch had hit seven days, she was so incredibly excited to meet you it was becoming a distraction. She was slacking off at work because she was too busy imagining your meeting. Once the day had come, she didn’t know what to do. She was stressing out in her office when Zoe asked her to run into town with her. Little did Cordelia know she would quite literally run into you at the grocery store.

undying (you and your soulmate must meet in order to end life—die—together. as long as you have not met them, you will continue aging yet remain immortal)

You had lived your entire life believing you were never going to be able to die. You have seen the lost people who wander, hundreds of years old not able to get the sweet relief of death because they haven’t found their soulmate. One day you met this beautiful witch in Los Angeles. You were both there traveling, and something about her just lit a fire inside of you. This fire that was fueled by the want to know everything about her. You two had exchanged numbers and kept in touch after you both went home. Soon after, you realized how much you missed her, and you knew you needed to be with her. You booked a one-way flight to New Orleans, and never looked back. You knew she was the woman you were going to go out with.

valiant (when one person is in danger the other will do anything to protect them)

One day you were partying with Madison when a guy tried to force himself onto you. Immediately Cordelia knew you were uncomfortable, so she transmutated to where you were. The second she saw you she protectively wrapped her arms around you and asked if you were ok. After reassuring her you were, she smashed a glass on the guy’s head with her powers and pulled you out of there.

writer’s choice (do whatever you want)

I feel like Cordelia would be the type to get dolled up and ready for her soulmate. She would be the type to be so unbelievably happy to have her soulmate. I picture her as a complete romantic type, so I feel like she would give her soulmate flowers and jewelry. She would of course be cautious because of the safety of her girls, but let’s be honest, Cordelia would immediately be head over heels for her soulmate.

xtra (add on to a previous headcannon)

One day you were walking out to the greenhouse because Mallory had wanted to work on some incantations. When you got about halfway there, the words “Satan has one son, but my sisters are legion motherfucker” appeared on the inside of your right arm. Thoroughly confused, you asked Mallory what the hell just happened. Worry rapidly shot through Mallory when she saw your arm, and she ran to see where Cordelia was. Now you were lowkey panicking because Mallory got freaked out and went looking for your girlfriend. You ran after her and found her in Cordelia’s office. Mallory then had to very awkwardly explain the old timeline because Cordelia was not letting up, she wanted to know the truth. As Mallory told the stories, everything started to come back to you and Cordelia. Tears had pooled in your eyes because you remembered the fear of when Cordelia had died. But at the same time you realized that you all saved the world.

yellow fellow (colors of your vision changes depending on your soulmates mood. yellow is optimistic, green is envious, blue is upset, etc.)

One night you and the girls had convinced Cordelia to go to a club with you all. You went to the bar to get drinks when this lady in a very revealing dress started talking to you. You two were talking, but you thought it was innocent. She had put her hand on your forearm when your vision turned green. Almost choking, you decided to toy with Cordelia. You kept talking and did the signature laugh, look up and down while you flip your hair back. At that moment you knew you went too far because the green switched to red. That night Cordelia definitely made sure to let you know to never do that again.

zzz (in which soulmates first meet each other and share memories in their dreams before meeting each other in person—sometimes difficult to accomplish as dreams are hard to remember)

You had always seen this blonde woman in your dreams. She was always wearing a flowy, white dress, and she was surrounded by beautiful flowers. You could never make out her face, but she had this magic glow to her. You knew you had to find this woman; you just didn’t know how. One day you were watching the news when Cordelia Goode made it public that she ran a school for witches. The moment you saw her, it was like the dream came to life. You knew exactly where you had to go. You and Cordelia loved to talk about the dreams you two had had of each other before meeting.

Taglist: @sapphicsarahpaulson @winters-witch-bitch

#cordelia goode x reader #cordelia foxx x reader #cordelia goode #cordelia foxx #ahs x reader #ahs #ahs apocalypse #ahs coven #soulmate #soulmate au

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