#but NO i mean either the ''they deserve better'' or ''this goes against my brain'' or ''we are so different'' or whatever else trope
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My fav part of fictional romances is the "we are friends in love but we aren't sure if it's mutual so it's a dance of looks and touches and words but never confessions out of fear of breaking our hearts" phase. If this phase is long I am happy and having the time of my life
#i've seen people saying the opposite of a slowburn is a will they wont they but NO!! I HATE THE WILL THEY WONT THEY!!!#by which i mean that confession is out but for some reason the characters are doing nothing about it#or they are dating other people or pretending they arent in love or whatever#but NO i mean either the ''they deserve better'' or ''this goes against my brain'' or ''we are so different'' or whatever else trope#just.... not expecting to be loved while loving passionately.... that's my shit that's my shit RIGHT!!! THERE!!!! A#*opposite of a slowburn is instalove i guess but if we're talking long term romances then it's will they won't they#eernatalk#there's a reason why a romance becomes 10 times better to me if a character says ''i dont expect them to ever love me it's ok''#the selflessness.... the care.... the knowledge that love and affection are enough of a reward because no one is obliged to love you... aaa
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(Sorry, brain dump ahead)
I need to tell y’all something, but I feel like only my older followers will understand what I’m talking about
When I was writing my informative paper on proshipping and anti shipping, including all the arguments for and against each side, I realized something very important.
I have family that I live with. I have friends with their own families. I have pets. I have a job now with coworkers who I care about. And while none of these things give a shit about fiction and internet morals (hell, I’ve had conversations with just about everyone I know about this stuff, and we all agree for the most part), I would give a shit if I was doxxed and put the people in my life in danger. I realized that if I post that document, and the right people saw it, I would put them in danger. I’m not willing to be a martyr for fandom drama. I’ve seen what antis are capable of doing, I’ve seen how they’ve indirectly killed people and how they’ve directly ruined lives. I don’t want that. I care about, not only my own well being, but also the people who I care most about. That’s not to say that anti harassment and anti censorship aren’t important to me, by any means. But my real life takes precedence over my internet life.
If there’s one thing I learned from that paper I wrote (but didn’t post), it’s that the internet is cruel and unjust. It’s that I could never feel comfortable with myself if I labeled myself as an anti. I made it clear that I’m proship, and that paper I wrote is the reason I’ve come to this conclusion. I did my own reaserch, form an unbiased standpoint, while choosing to side more with antis, and I came out of it as proship. My tastes in fiction have not changed. But my understanding of the topic did change. That paper has nearly a year’s worth of research put into it, and it would piss people off. It would, more importantly, piss off antis. I’ve seen what happens when antis get pissed, and I’ve been on the receiving end of the mild version of it. Many times. I’m not willing to go through the version where they don’t hold back. My paper included many documented examples of it, and since the time of writhing it, there have been so many more. I’m not going to be another one of those people who have their lives ruined over stupid fandom discourse.
It’s more than just internet drama to me though, regardless. I know that this is more than just fandom. At its core, it’s all forms of fiction and what is and is not acceptable. It’s about bullying and harassment, and how it keeps getting worse as time goes on. Not just internet harassment either. It’s happening in the American school system every day, people I knew when I was in high school were forced to drop out, get their ged, or do online schooling because of the real world harassment they were receiving. The way that my generation, and the generation bellow me, views other people is appalling. Bullying is just “funny”, and I can’t stand it. The internet is at the core of this issue, of course. It’s taught impressionable minds that other people are like npcs. Cancel culture has taught us that if you step out of line, even for non-issues, then you are the scum of the earth and deserve what’s coming to you. And if you see someone who steps out of line, you need to be ruthless. It’s better to attack other people, so long as the negative attention isn’t on you. Even the older generations are affected. This isn’t something we should be ignoring, but we are. Antis in fandom spaces might seem like it’s not a big deal, but it’s a rabbit hole that runs deeper than people realize.
My paper made me realize this, it made me realize that society sucks, the government sucks, the internet sucks, and I’m pro-freedom to do whatever you want so long as it doesn’t hurt real people. At the end of the day, I’m not going to be a martyr. I refuse that role. You shouldn’t want to be a martyr either. Be kind to people, that’s what’s important. Create spaces where people know they are safe to do whatever the hell they want so long as it doesn’t hurt real people. Stand up for real people who are being hurt by others. Stop harassment, stop hate. I’m tired of seeing people hurt each other over fictional characters who don’t exist. Don’t put yourself or others in danger. Block people who spread hate, and don’t give them a platform to be hateful.
I’m rambling, but for me, there’s no real good outcome unless people suddenly realize that being hateful because of fiction is dumb. I’ve become tired of trying to explain to antis why it’s dumb, there’s no way to talk to many of them. I also can’t risk the safety of others for an issue that only I’m focusing on. There’s other problems in the world, and in my personal life. I just want to be kind, at the end of it all. And I want others to feel the same. But then again, just being kind to others would solve a lot of the worlds problems if everyone followed that rule.
I need to shut up now though, sorry for the dump lol
#rambles#proship#profic#anti anti#profiction#comship#anti censorship#anti harassment#fandom discourse
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Silco Headcanons 🦈
Silco headcanons because Crime Shark Dad is gnawing my brain with his sharp teefs again. Beware horribleness. Slight tw: for covert narcissistic features, I guess?
A flair for both writing and oratory. Definitely of the Angry Young Man persuasion. The pen is mightier than the sword - and he ain't afraid to stab a bitch with it. (Literally, once).
Contrarian to the core. He is That Asshole™ who enjoys playing devil's advocate just to learn his opponent's triggers - then pushing for the sadistic satisfaction of seeing them explode.
Arguing with him is an exhausting endeavor akin to getting arrested. Everything you say will be weaponized against you. Better to zone out and engage as little as possible until he grows bored and leaves you alone.
Rage levels on par with Vi's pre-betrayal. Rage levels on par with Jinx's post-betrayal. Either way, that's a loooooot of rage. He's learnt to flick it on and off like a switch - but it's always there, beneath his surface sophistication, bleeding into all of his choices.
Different types of alcohol bring out different sides of his nature. There is a story behind each glass of whiskey on the rocks (keeps him mellow), highball of red wine (makes him nostalgic), shotglass of tequila (makes him belligerent), snifter of bourbon (makes him downright murderous before he blacks out.)
Excellent at chess - but loses to Jinx because she makes wildly unpredictable moves with no pattern for him to second-guess and plan ahead.
Neptune in Gemini, for all y'all astrology lovers.
Keeps his salon appointments like clockwork. Enjoys haircuts and manicures, and the overall sensation of being served. Reminds him of the privations of his youth, and how the Undercity deserves better.
Not that he's sharing, mind you. Charity is not in his vocabulary. Janna helps those who help themselves.
His laugh is nearly as creepy as Jinx's. One time they both burst into laughter at an awful joke - and every lackey within earshot thought the Drop was possessed by poltergeists.
Surprisingly good dancer. Snappy footwork and a keen sense of rhythm. Also executes a mean hitch kick.
His wardrobe costs more than his entire family could ever make in ten years. Every so often, he remembers this. Then he goes out and buys another suit.
Talks during sex. You’ll get a running commentary of all your best and worst attributes. Rip.
Has a weakness for Jazz music. Billie Holiday, Sinatra and Miles Davis leave his mood sentimental, upbeat or brooding, respectively.
Master of the backhanded compliment.
His style of seduction is negging you until you’re in tears. You’ll wake up in his bed the next morning, wondering Wtf just happened?
When he and Vander were teenagers, they hotwired an Enforcer's patrol-car and crashed it at the edge of the Sumps. Ranks as one of his five happiest memories.
Oral fixations. If there's no cigarettes in range, he will gnaw pencils, straws, ice cubes, chicken bones. Younger, he used to chew his own fingernails, and learnt to wean himself off the habit because it telegraphed insecurity.
Those crooked teeth are sharp af.
Code-switches seamlessly. His Piltie accent and mannerisms were acquired after spending time in Piltover’s academy on a Fissures’ scholarship. But if he’s drunk, angry or sleepy, the coarseness of the Lanes resurfaces in his speech patterns.
Uses diminutives as a way to put people in their places rather than as a show of affection.
Speaking of affection - he grew up with little patience for physical displays. Then he met Jinx, and realized that a cuddly child climbing into his lap was maaaaybe not so bad. He'll indulge in it, but only up to a certain point. He's a busy man with a hundred things to do.
His love language is quality time + words of affirmation. He is also adept and welding them as weapons to get what he wants.
Can cook. i.e. can make edible food out of inedible food. Never particularly cared for fancy cuisine; he eats to live, not the other way around. Jinx changed that. Her horror at the blandness of his daily menu (fry-up for breakfast, boiled mutton for lunch, slurry mulch for dinner) motivated him to diversify his palate. Now he can whip up the spiciest stew and ice the cutest cupcakes. Sssh. It's the Undercity's best kept secret.
He enjoys being near bodies of water. Regularly goes to the Pilt - sometimes with Jinx, sometimes alone - to wade through the waters that nearly claimed his life.
Still capable of roof runs. Sadly, he's not as swift as during his youth. The injury to his eye has also screwed with his inner-balance; narrow spaces give him a queer sensation of vertigo.
A natural storyteller. Knows almost all the urban legends and folkore of the Undercity. He’d use them to entertain or soothe Jinx if she was upset.
Vander taught him to throw punches as a boy - same way Vi used to share her moves with the other sumpsnipes. The lessons still exist in his muscle-memory. He's deceptively spry and can pack a nasty right hook.
He also fights insanely dirty.
Consummate showman. Has an entrepreneur's fire in his belly and can charm you into forking over cash for the shittiest object - simply with how he dresses it up with his words.
A confrontationist with authority figures. As a teenager, he’s gotten into trouble with Enforcers on multiple occasions. Older, he's no different. He's simply traded his belligerence for a finely-concealed contempt. Also: bribes.
His favorite color is blue (because: Jinx).
#arcane#arcane netflix#arcane league of legends#arcane silco#silco#arcane meta#silco meta#silco headcanon#silco my beloved#arcane headcanon
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Prompt List
Prompt week is HERE! Pretty simple just in which prompt you want from any category for the character of your choice. (Erik, Namor, Shuri, or T'Challa.) You can even mix and match 2 different ones. I will be working on requests all day today so send them in! This goes all all week ending Saturday. Some may be short but that depends on what comes out my brain. Now for the prompts
Fluff
Palm kisses
Sitting next to someone, hands in one’s lap, leaning against them and kissing their shoulder
A kiss on the temple
Randomly while holding hands bringing joined hands together to kiss the back of the hand
Topless and face-down, a kiss on the shoulder blade
The playful kiss on the tip of the nose
Laying on someone’s chest and kissing their sternum
Kissing the crown of the head
"I’ll give you a ride"
Behind someone who’s sitting down, leaning over to kiss the forehead (and potentially block their eyesight with hair falling in their face)
Kissing scars either shortly or long after they’ve healed
Standing behind someone, hugging them around the arms or the waist, and kissing the top edge of the shoulder
Kissing someone to stop them blurting out a secret/something they’ll regret
"I can’t regret mistakes that led me to you"
Leaving notes everywhere for them to find
"Is that my shirt?"
"Home sweet home
"How about a kiss before I leave?"
"You remembered."
"Come here, let me help you."
Smut
“Let me give you a reason to stay in bed”
"They're mine"
“I want you now”
“Use your tongue”
“You can get louder can’t you”
“Don’t cum yet”
“I wanna fuck you right against the glass so everyone can see how good you take it”
“Stay quiet"
“I told you to stay still"
“I promise I’ll be good”
“If we weren’t in public right now I’d have my head between your legs”
“Don’t pretend to be so innocent”
“I bought a few pieces of lingerie. want me to model for you?”
“Don’t worry I’ll make you feel really good”
“Don’t give me that look”
“Take it off slowly”
“Don’t be so rough there can’t be any marks”
“Don’t worry I’ll take of you”
Friends with benefits
“We’re in public you know”
Angst
"Their blood is on your hands."
"Everyone I’ve cared about has either died or left me. Except for you."
"You mean nothing to me."
"Do you remember when we first met?"
"We’ll see each other again."
"Why does it feel like this is goodbye?"
"You’re the one good thing left in this world."
"It’s okay. You can let go."
"You’re as beautiful as the day I lost you."
"I can't lose you again!"
"You were dead, I saw you die."
"I'm real. I'm here."
"I never meant to hurt you"
“I guess we weren’t as compatible as we once thought.”
“I gave you so many fucking chances, yet you kept fucking them up. And I’m done. I can’t— I don’t want to do this anymore. I deserve better than whatever bullshit you’re giving me.”
“I will always love you, but just not in the way I wish I still could.”
“I’m done trying with you.”
“We had a good run, didn’t we?”
“You’re a mistake I’m never going to regret.”
"Why can't you let anyone in?"
Prompt credits: @onewhoturns // @rainysoot // @nightprompts // @sultrypotter
#blurb prompts#black panther#black panther imagines#black panther prompts#shuri#namor#erik killmonger#tchalla#fluff#smut#angst
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Ok ok, so I have a (possibly bad) theory that isn’t really a theory but more my brain trying to figure stuff out
So, ever since Kingdom Hearts III, I’ve kinda been wondering, in the back of my messy, messy mind, why Ephemera helped (? I’m guessing he was the one leading the fallen kids, at least) Sora at the Keyblade Graveyard.
I mean, I get why, big heartless storm, xehanort being xehanort, xehanort being Ephemera’s descendent (that was kinda confirmed right? I don’t remember for sure) which kinda makes him his responsibility a bit, yada yada yada.
It’s more like, why didn’t he do it before. Like, it’s not the first confrontation against old man Xehanort chronogically in the series. Why didn’t Ephemera help at the confrontation at the end of BBS? I mean, Ven was his friend, surely he’d want to help him not, you know, die or even just get turned into a weapon of mass destruction? (I gotta mention: Vanitas gets helped by the fallen kids’ keyblades during that confrontation iirc, so was that because of the darkness? Because he used to be part Ventus so he kinda counts as a union leader? Why wasn’t Ven helped by the keyblades then? Did Ephemera try to help Ven but accidentally chose the wrong one (oopsie teehee, oh well, better luck next time)? Anyways that’s weird and has always bothered me ever since I knew whose keyblades those were)
One of the explanations I can see for Ephemera no helping then is that Xigbar was running interference or something. I guess he didn’t interfere in KH III because of the Book of Prophecies or something, idk. Maybe Ephemera also didn’t act because of something in the Book of Prophecies, idk, I’m just trying to find some explanations
(Actual theory under the cut ahah)
But yeah, anyways, my bad theory
It came to me, as I was eating tortellini in the dark at 11:30 PM after taking a longer-than-planned 5 hours nap, what if… Sora was Ephemera’s reincarnation? Ok ok that’s a really shaky theory, I’ll admit it, but I don’t control was goes on in that brain (ahah, Brain) of mine
In any case, back to what I was saying, tortellini, 5 hour nap, Sora is maybe Ephemera’s reincarnation, ok, right, yes, back on track. So, Ephemera totally, very definitely died, right? It’s been like, a couple of centuries most likely, so he is either super dead, some kind of ghost just haunting the Keyblade Graveyard, or he’s the world’s oldest grandpa. From what we’ve seen in khux, when someone dies (or at least a keyblade wielder) for realsies (kingdom hearts death tends to be, ha, ephemeral), they either become a dream eater or they go in the reincarnation cycle or whatever (from what I remember at least, it’s been a minute). So either Ephemera turned into a cute colourful animal that 100% deserves a pet, or he went on to reincarnate, ya know?
(He could have also said ‘fuck you rules of the universe, I never liked you anyways’ and created a third option for himself out of sheer will. If anyone could, it would be him)
But yeah anyways, that could explain why he only shows up, cool red scarf swaying in the wind anime style, to Sora. Like, maybe a small tiny part of his soul (heart?) remained
It could also explain why Sora’s heart healed Ven’s at the beginning of BBS. There’s the reason that Sora’s heart was a newborn one of course, but if he was Ephemera’s reincarnation, then it’s not hard to believe that he would be drawn in by Ven’s presence.
Also, Ephemera has an association with the color red due to his scarf. You know who else is usually associated with red? Sora (and Lea, whose entire existence is red, but this ain’t about him)
(I have also thought of the possibility that Sora is maybe Ephemera’s descendant instead, but that would mean that he’d be related to Xehanort which is wild, but I do think that that theory is even more shaky than the reincarnation one. Tbh, I think that Riku being Ephemera’s descendant could be more likely, which, again, would make him related to old man Xehanort. Omg i just had an idea for an AU where Riku is actually Xehanort’s son/grandson, but that’s a story for another day i guess)
So, yeah, here’s my bad and unlikely theory. This is my first time making a post of this kind and I still don’t know how tumblr works so I’m very sorry if this looks like an incomprehensible mess. Thanks for reading though :)
#kh ephemer#kh sora#kh ventus#ventus#khux#bro i do not know what tags to put here AAAAAAAAA#oxi rambles#might as well create that tag for the future#Oh my goodness this post is LONG
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Y’all call me like batshit crazy or whatever but like I’ve wanted to share this with y’all-
So like these are my top kins rn:
Kyojuro Rengoku (Demon Slayer)
Arataki Itto (Genshin Impact)
Lord Diavolo (Obey Me!)
They’re all hot and I want them to dom me I mean what
ANYWAYS
I feel like they all kinda share the same energy, goofy, loud, and too fine for my own mental sake. I can see them as buddies tbh.
Asking y’all, should I do like a crossover thing that’s centered in the Genshin universe- actually no-
Demon Slayer universe THEN if y’all like this idea I’ll do a Genshin universe version. And maybe I’ll even do a version in the Obey Me universe if y’all treat this well.
So here’s what I’ve put together in this horny and unhinged little brain of mine.
Say all three of them are Hashira. (Roll with me on this okay? 😭) You, the darling reader, are a new Hashira. Let’s say you befriend the others fairly quickly, including these three.
You’ve found that you spend lots of time with them, not that you mind though. All three of them are awesome friends. But, little do you know, there is something going on behind the scenes you are blissfully unaware of.
Diavolo wishes to take you to a far away place every time you meet. To a secluded place, to either absolutely ruin you or treat you like the goddess you are. After all, you deserve it. Don’t you, honey? No one else has captivated him like you do. And he will stop at nothing to get what he wants.
Rengoku wishes to have you all to himself. No one else can have or claim you. He can’t help it, though! Oh, but he knows it’s wrong to want you like this, but it’s not his fault. Poor man is just so lovesick. It wouldn’t have gotten like this if you weren’t so desirable…now we have a mess, don’t we?
Itto wishes to have your body on his. Doesn’t matter where, when, or how. He could take a risk and fuck you in the next room over after or before a Hashira meeting. Something deep, something primal in Itto is chanting in his mind over and over and over again, “Breed. Breed. Breed. Breed.”
You’ve noticed a change in their behavior, how could you not?
Whenever you get together with all three of them, something just seems a little odd. The three of them roughhouse a little bit more than usual, friendly punches or elbows on the arm turn just a bit more harder or meaningful. The quick death glares thrown at each other when you get close to one of them.
The slightest eye twitch when you went to hug Itto, ohhhhhhh you best believe Rengoku was not pleased about that. Diavolo wasn’t too jovial about it either, he was just better at hiding the murderous rage jealousy dwelling inside him.
You swore you say the wood splinter on an armchair when you were at your estate and had invited the three of them over, and you had “accidentally” fallen into Diavolo’s lap. (Unbeknownst to you, he had purposefully tripped you.) They way Itto gripped the arm rest of the chair was a sign that he was trying to control himself somewhat.
When you had gone out for lunch together and Rengoku offered to share some of his Tempura with you, feeding you it with his chopsticks. Itto could’ve choked on his food because of the smug grin he gave the two of them when you weren’t paying attention. Diavolo just about snapped his chopsticks straight in half.
You didn’t think much of it, you assumed it was just the three of them being guys and messing around. Oh, how sweetly naive you are! So pure and innocent. So painfully oblivious to the fact the three of them are fighting over you! That only made them want you more.
The three of them competing to see who would be the one to corrupt you first. The three of them seeing who could win your heart the fastest. All of them going directly at each other’s throats to try to win. Everything goes when it came to you. After all, it’s a race against time, isn’t it?
Finally, Rengoku, being the better out of the trio, called them over one day for a discussion. About you. Oh, just what were they going to do? They had to sort this out somehow! One was just as obsessed lovesick as the other…
They couldn’t let just one of them have you. Oh no no no no no darling! That surely would not do! They could put their live for you aside? No. Absolutely not, out of the question!
Hmmm…how about this?
A compromise.
They all share you. You know, sharing is caring, isn’t it? They’d try not to overreact when you catered to one of them over the other two, and maybe…just maybe…if they could get you over to one of their estates with the the other two as well, they could have a friendly dinner. With “dessert” afterwards.
~❦~
So like….thoughts on this?? (please please please tell me I’m not crazy 😭)
@peachdues what do you think bbg? 👉🏼👈🏼
-C
#demon slayer#obey me#genshin impact#kyojuro rengoku#lord diavolo#arataki itto#charlotte’s a lil delulu#here she goes#she’s rambling again#charlotte rambles
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I finally finished cyberpunk 2077 and a good chunk of it I've spent in a bad brain fog and not dealing with my health issues very well, so I didn't pay as close attention to some of the dialogue choices. I had no clue how important it was in the pistis sofia to tell Johnny if you would take a bullet for him or not. So I got V to tell him he would, and honestly it made sense for his mindset at the time.
(rambling under the read more because I have so many feelings)
But then V makes connections with more people and, most importantly, met Kerry, and that went out the window. Suddenly, he has friends, a found family, someone who loves him, even if it is still very early on. It gives V hope and a future to envision, a life worth living. But that also means going back on his word to Johnny.
It's interesting, the whole time in this playthrough, V and Johnny have never been on the same page about V's future. At first, Johnny wants V dead and V wants Johnny gone. Then, V learns how bad of a situation he's in, goes into a deep depression and is grieving for Jackie and now himself, and is just so tired. Maybe it would be better for Johnny to take his body. Yet Johnny is beginning to like V because despite what people have told V about Johnny, despite V seeing his memories and how shitty he could be first hand, he's still nice to him and cares about him. Johnny doesn't want that on his conscience, taking time and life from someone like that. As much as he is a gonk.
And then, in Mikoshi, Johnny still wants V to live, but damn is he hurt when V goes back on his word. Because even though he feels he doesn't deserve it, he wants a second chance. He doesn't want it necessarily at the expense of V's life, but V's already been soulkilled, and V had said he wanted Johnny to have his body. A man's word means a lot to Johnny and it feels like a betrayal when V goes back on his, no matter that Johnny's mind has been changed and that he wants V (well, V's construct, to be precise) to live out the rest of his life his way.
On the other hand, he understands that for once in his short but chaotic life, V found some happiness and he doesn't want to let that go so soon. Could you really blame him, jumping for a second chance like that even when the odds are against him? Johnny would be a hypocrite if he did.
It's like a dance between these two, both initially wanting their own lives and hating each other, to becoming closer than they'd been with anyone else and practically begging each other to take V's body and live. When he chooses himself at the very last minute, V breaks away from that dance and leaves Johnny wondering whatever happened to him wanting Johnny to have his second chance. It's the decision Johnny wanted him to make, the decision he had been hyping up this entire fucking time in hopes of changing V's mind, but damn does it feel like abandonment in its worst form now that V agrees with him.
Worst still, he doesn't hide his feelings. V knows Johnny well enough that he didn't have to be so obvious in his disappointment, but Johnny can't help it. But he won't say anything in his own defense either, doesn't want to put that extra amount of pain on the kid, because at the end of the day V doesn't deserve it. He didn't ask for any of this. That doesn't stop his disappointment from haunting V when he leaves Mikoshi.
It doesn't help that he feels he's disappointing Kerry in not spending enough time with him even though he's fighting to find a way to have more than 6 months with him. He's aware he might not make it back from the Crystal Palace and might be ruining their chance to have whatever time he has left to be with each other, but the chance to have a lifetime with the man he loves is impossible to ignore. He has to try or he'll hate himself for letting himself fade away.
"Never stop fighting," Johnny had said, and yet fighting for his life hurt the two most important people in his life.
#i would love to actually write this as a fic but i dont have the spoons for that so here's my rambling#i also am fascinated at the fact that an alive V is soulkilled no matter what except for the devil ending i believe#like that just adds to the identity crisis V goes through this whole game because how would he know how similar to his original self he is?#would he even know? would he recognize it? would others notice a difference in him? did he die and come back wrong?#mike pondsmith explained that johnny's memories are messed up due to the radiation and the soulkilling process so how accurate are#V's memories?#i imagine more accurate bc no radiation but how would the brain trauma from relic malfunctions play into this if at all?#would V question any of this or would he just not notice anything or not question it? so many questions#i havent seen a lot of people talking about this concept either and i find it so fascinating#cybperpunk 2077#sun ending#dont fear the reaper#oc: vincent vale
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WIP game
Rules: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it! And then tag as many people as you have wips. (You can make your own post or reblog this one!) I have deemed that this isn’t just for writing either. Sketch titles? Comics? DND campaigns? If you have an unfinished project, it counts!!
Tagged by @deathcomes4u
okay, this feels like a call out post alskdjfldsjf i'm only doing DP again because since the last time i did this in april?? my wip count has grown exponentially and that's already too much. (literally i think i did this in april and i only had like 29??) i'm gonna split it between au series and non au series stuff because i do have other ideas!! i just never write them
the world is having more fun than me (tonight) wips
we're going in chronological order because that's how i have them organized
mateo's jealous of tony - literally exactly what it sounds like. i was rereading "college is a time of firsts" and i wanted to expand on that because honestly i didn't pay enough attention to it at the time, and i think mateo deserves to be a little jealous, as a treat
morning adrenaline rush - a scrapped chapter from "i'm not okay (i promise" that i think works as a standalone. i'm just polishing it up at this point
cape - stupid fucking work that i haven't named and i can't seem to fucking write. it's supposed to be right before "longer than the song of the whippoorwill" to provide some context but i haven't written it!! so it wallows
quit telling everyone i'm (permanently) dead! - working on the last chapter after invisobang
INVISOBANG - i can't wait to share this one 😈
by all means, i'm getting mad (that don't mean i don't feel sorry for you) - danny visits dan in prison and things are fun and not at all angsty!
intermediary winter break fic & ectober 14 - literally what it says. ectober 14 i think is the one where i have nikau arrange a ringtone for danny and it's the show's theme
heaven's grief brings hell's reign - more smut! this time with even more angst! this is the end of the [invisobang] arc.
clockwork post IB fic - i want to write out some clockwork stuff as a "prequel" to IB, but it's gonna go after, i tihnk. timey wimey stuff.
mateo post IB fic - i have a scene i want to write from mateo's pov that i don't have time or space for in IB, so it's going here, probably!
first date fic - spring semester! new arc! danny and mateo are going out on their "first" date to the boardwalk and their friends are being more emo about it than they are (might become rated E, not sure yet)
big date fic - a series of dates i wanted danny to go on with tony before i deicded tony was a shitty person and these are better dates with mateo anyway. will probably write them all in the same work but then mark where they go in the timeline in each chapter
mateo gets interrogated by vanessa - this one has IB spoilers but it's gonna be fun. they're relationship is gonna develop nicely
you're the best thing to happen to me - a oneshot i wrote on tumblr a while back that i'm gonna polish up and post
sin francisco - i want to finish this SO BAD but IB has taken every brain cell i have
fishin' in the dark - mateo comes to amity for their first summer together and danny shows him what it's like to be a kid out in the middle of nowhere. bonfire party turns into skinny dippin, all set to nitty gritty's fishin in the dark.
anything you say can and will be held against you (so only say my name) - another smutty fic, this time it's pure smut. dunno where it goes yet, mostly because i just have the smut, i don't have the story around it built yet, but it lives here for now
with every sin i still wanna be holy - dan realizing he's tired being shitty and alone, and he would like to be a better person now pls. (also known as dan goes to therapy)
the weight of living - another dan centric fic where he gets out on parole and immediately starts causing problems for the specter squad. he's doesn't remember what it's like to live as a human, let alone a halfa, so there are some growing pains. angsty and comedic
jr/sr antics - a catch all for the last two years of their school. atm i think there's a couple of funny snippets that are now anachronistic because of IB things, but thats it
danny and mateo coreplay - uhhhhh i don't have an explanation for this one except blame the server
so shall it be - the beginning of the once more with feeling arc. angsty. sad. heartbreaking.
once more with feeling - emrys accidentally makes a wish and now the whole campus is stuck in a musical - and danny and mateo aren't handling it well
where do we go from here? - the end of the once more with feeling arc. angstier. sadder. heartbreaking-er.
here comes goodbye - the actual end of the once more with feeling arc and a recent addition. graduation! but make it heartwrenchingly sad!
hey there, shadow - the beginning of the kneel to the crown arc. smut. the kneel to the crown arc is basically just smut. i can't explain it, i don't make the rules.
misery loves my company - this may be a standalone or it may be part of "hey there, shadow" i haven't decided, but spectra gets her claws in mateo
my wish for you - danny makes a stupid wish and mateo suffers th econsequences - and when he finds out? he's livid. he and danny work out their anger. in ways. >.>
kneel to the crown - the culmination of the series that has too many spoilers so i can't even tell you what's in it. but it's a rom com. and it'll be great.
ghost king danny welcomes mom home - a phic phight fill i never finsihed that i want to work on
[anachronistic atm] - a series of friend date fics that mirror "such a big, big world" where danny spends time with the squad and i get mroe time to develop them
[anachronistic atm] - the haunt - sam wasn't kidding about opening a bronze style club in amity. that's all i've got so far, but i'll come up with something soon i think
non series au wips
danny grave fic or j13 origin - based on the song "johnny" by american murder song, it's either a "danny had to bury his body" fic or a johnny 13 origin fic, which i've already kinda started
danny stripper identity reveal fic - gray ghost fic, exactly what it sounds like lmao
dp as syfy's alice - this is based on this post by dreamwraith, actually, about the fallout from reign storm and the weird ambiguity of who was supposed to be king after. vlad takes it for himself (making him the queen of hearts) and the asserts his hold on the world, taking maddie as his king of hearts, making Jack the Carpenter... i have the whole character list written out now. it was originally gonna be everlasting trio but now i'm thinking it'd be a nice pitch pearl au. phantom as hatter?? sign me the fuck up
floral collab - paulina brings blood blossoms to class and danny's reaction causes him to reveal himself. one of a few reveal fics i have that i've just never finished
perfect - an angsty fic based on the song perfect by simple plan. i have a fic already titled after this song, but i want a truly angsty one where danny's reveal to his parents doesn't go so well...pitch pearl
tuck everlasting au - FUCK am i so excited to work on it. dark ages raised immortal phantom, plucky and naive danny, a tragic lovestory... i need invisobang to be over so i can work on this NOW
primeval crossover - british tv show from the same era as DP, deals with anomalies in time that bring them dinosaurs. the anomalies are actually portals in this au and the villain from primeval is the big bad danny was chasing that landed him and team phantom in london surrounded by men in black pointing guns at them. probably gonna be everlasting trio, which is new for me! i have dynamics written out, but that's about it
TUE but it happens bc danny says fuck - mostly crack but kinda wanna write it...
ghost light stripper au - danny is a stripper in this one and the specter squad takes mateo out for his birthday. pretty sure the plan is for this one to end in a one night stand that has them both addicted and suddenly they're kind of but not really dating while their friends just stare at the ceiling and pray for a braincell
ghost light ABO au - this one is also the servers fault. no i will not be taking questions at this time
in the shadow of your heart - my ghost light atlantis au 💖 it's already started and been posted, but i had to stop working on it for invisobang. i can't wait to get to work on it again. i've done so much work to make it logical to find the ghost zone and keep the atlantis bit of the au still close, it's gonna be great, promise
and they were history project partners UFS version - i wanted to turn one of my series au phic phight prompts into a UFS version because ti was there and if i hadn't already decided it was part of my au, i would've gone full fledged. (this one is red's fault 💖)
i'm not tagging 44 people, sorry, lmao but i will tag some of my favorite people 💖
@dreamwraith @cheezygoddess @pennerjones @i-think-in-metaphors @ectoplasmicsoda @redead-red @jadenoryuu @floralflowerpower
also u guys should totally send me asks about these because i love talking about my writing and i feel like i haven't gotten a chance lately with non-IB stuff 👀
#HOW DID MY WIP COUNT GO UP WHILE I WAS WRITING THIS#DEATH THIS IS YOUR FAULT#the world is having more fun than me tonight series#danny phantom#wip game#tag gam
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it didnt change anything. it didnt save anyone. there were just too many forces against it. but it still matters that the love was there
LOVESAVED - a private, very selective, and low activity study in love or the lack of it, being too stubborn to die, grief and it's many shapes, light as a seed and the darkness the dirt, and the love behind a haunting. multimuse. neglect and a slew of other triggers are present - please follow at your own risk. completely switched to beta editor. iconless for the time being! loved by ALEX ( 21+, she / they, pst )
please read: carrd, dni list
MUSE LIST & TEMP RULES UNDER THE CUT
CURRENT MUSES
g.rishaverse: harshaw quinn, fedyor kaminsky
comics: peter quill, jason todd
twilight: bella swan
the d.arkest minds: mason marks*, liam stewart*, vida bautista*, jude steele*
the magnus archives: jude perry, julia montauk, trevor herbert, emma harvey
stranger things: 010/eddie munson, wayne munson
film: edward scissorhands, tommy slater (fear street)
* - means muse is a minor as their default verse
RULES
some of my muses are minors so i have a very low tolerance for Weird Shit. I WILL use the block button freely.
be patient? i am an adult with depression, autism, and a full time job. this is my second blog, so sometimes i just won't be around much. i have a tendency to forget things, so if your ask never goes answered, i promise you have done nothing wrong; its down to me and my swiss cheese brain
i take my dni list pretty seriously and i will either hardblock or softblock solo blogs for the listed fandoms and characters without warning.
don't be a fucking freak. you know the vibes. racists, homophobes, transphobes, antisemites, islamaphobes, trump supporters, etc can roll over eat shit and die <3 I am not the least bit friendly to people who rp incest, rape/"""noncon""", and pedophilia. you don't deserve rights or kneecaps and better block my ass
for my comfort this blog is mutuals only and I ask that you softblock or hardblock me if you would like to break mutuals. no hard feelings or anything, I just would rather avoid confusion in the future! 💙
my name is alex (she/they) and I promise I'm a lot friendlier and not as intimidating as these rules probably make me seem! i am 21+, a white nb lesbian, and work as a caregiver in california. i do a lot of art and make jewelry on the side and my dream is to have my own tiny house and that is coming along slowly. i have another blog over @pyreshe
please tag things like suicide and rape
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"I... might go to prison," Fang suddenly stated, still feeling a little bit traumatised from her supposed lucky day, which turned into one of the worst ones ever. "Tho, cute girls shouldn't be charged for murder," she concluded, and smiled for a second, till looking more sour again, burying her face into one of the Doujinshi, she had bought. Also filled with rude but hot guys, which would also say mean things, but in a more different way, that could make a girl like Fang blush.
UNPROMPTED ASKS. » always accepting!
"...I mean, not to be all 'I told you so' on you or anything, but I did try to warn you three dimensional men were disappointing," Vivian points out before letting out a long sigh, clearly quite affected by Fang's mood. Honestly, despite her words, she really couldn't help feeling for her... after all, she was no stranger to being rejected by men herself. Why, Vivian wanted nothing more than to give her a friend a hug, but alas, she had no idea if she would appreciate being touched that way by her, so she'll keep her arms firmly attached to her sides while finally allowing her gaze to soften.
"It sounds me that Kobato guy was totally into you... though, considering his position, I don't blame him for keeling under the pressure; still, if I were him, I would have verbally chastised him and ditched him for you 'cause that would have been the way manlier thing to do in my opinion... but I guess he wasn't willing to get fired just for one girl," Vivian goes on to remark while shaking her head. Granted, she didn't exactly understand why Kobato continued to work for someone that unpleasant, but at the same time, she supposes trying to understand how the brains of real men worked would be a huge waste of time. ...Either way, Fang sure didn't deserve to be called dumb.
"...Instead of you murdering him, how about I go kick his ass for you?" Vivian then finally questions in an attempt to make her feel better. "Besides, I'm sure that Ryuto kid has nothing on me." And as if to further convince her, she would proceed to flex the non-existent muscles of her left arm... though, whether or not she would actually win against him was another thing entirely.
@badheart
#badheart#║▌ ⧼ ⸢ ʚɞ ⸣︳m̲o̲d̲e̲r̲n̲. ⧽ ― ENTER THE MANLY HEROINE OF JUSTICE.#⸾ ❖︎ ⸾ ( PUBLISHED ) ⤹ •• 𝕒𝕤𝕜𝕤.#⸾ ❖︎ ⸾ ( QUEUED ) ⤹ •• 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕝𝕚𝕓𝕣𝕒𝕣𝕪.#[ FEEL FREE TO CONTINUE THIS INTO A THREAD IF YOU WANT ]#[ but yeah vivian is willing to totally throw hands for fang ]#[ cause as far as she's concerned that was such a jerk move on ryuto's part ]
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A/N: If there’s anything I learned from doing this, it’s that vampirerry is an utter WHORE. Good for him!!!! As for myself, I’m done with the semester and my term projects and finals left my singular brain cell fried, so this was a nice way to get back into writing again. I hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! Thank you to the anon that suggested it, this was super fun to do! :D
read you’re someone i just want around here
word count: 6k
A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)
Harry is very attentive when it comes to aftercare with Y/N. The sex they have is often rough and includes toys, degradation, and multiple rounds, so he believes aftercare is non-negotiable. Rough sex can be fun, but if it’s not followed by a lot of communication and post-performance support, it can take a hard emotional toll on a person. Even when intimacy isn’t meant to be inherently sentimental, there has to be a certain level of connection and etiquette surrounding it, or it could end badly for both parties involved. He always checks on her immediately after they finish, simply to gauge her headspace and how her body is responding, and after he’s made sure she’s alright, he goes into his usual routine of skin-to-skin contact and gentle coddling. Reassurance and praise is just as important afterwards as it is during, because it’s good to let a partner know that your appreciation runs deeper than just the physical need felt in the heat of the moment; everyone deserves to feel valued beyond their body.
Harry proceeds to clean Y/N up after every session, because it’s the least he can do since she’s usually the one getting the brunt of the work. He’ll fetch a clean towel dampened under warm water to wipe her clean, or he’ll offer to help give her a bath or a shower— whichever route she prefers. Harry dresses her, and changes the sheets if need be, and tucks her into bed to ensure she’s nice and comfortable. If it’s been a particularly intense session, he’ll go the kitchen and bring back a snack and a drink— a granola bar and a Gatorade, or some chips and her favorite juice, or if she’s feeling especially hungry, he’ll happily go out of his way to prepare her an actual meal— and he insists on feeding it to her bit by bit until she’s come to enough to handle it on her own. If she’s not hungry, he at least brings her a glass of water and urges her to drink it; better to be safe than sorry. After that, more cuddling is the status quo, which normally ends in Y/N falling asleep in his arms, and Harry has absolutely no problem with that at all.
B = Body Part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
Harry’s favorite body part of Y/N’s is probably her chest. Yes, he likes it for sexual reasons— obviously— but there are innocent reasons for his fascination, as well. He likes how responsive she gets when he touches her there— how he can get her going just by groping her the way she likes it, or by using his mouth to tongue across her nipples until she’s writhing in pleasure and whining for more. He loves leaving hickies all over her tits, probably more than she likes receiving them. It’s just so fucking hot seeing himself marked all over her, especially when she’s putting on a bra and he can see all of the dark bruises scattered across the cleavage spilling from the undergarment. Filth aside, he also enjoys loving all over her chest. Absentmindedly cupping them while they’re snuggling, nuzzling his head between them while they’re watching television, massaging them under her shirt with his large palms as she sits back against his chest, sipping a glass of wine and chatting away, unwinding after a long day. It’s a form of intimacy; it provides a type of closeness nothing else can.
As for his own favorite body part, it’s a tie between two different areas. He loves his thighs— they’re one of his most prominent features. They’re thick and meaty and sensitive, so they’re the perfect sweet spot to touch when he wants to get riled up. Given his previous response, it can be easily deduced that he likes to get hickies there, as well. The marks look great peeking out from under his briefs (for the short amount of time they last, anyways) and they make a great accessory to the large tigerhead tattoo along his left thigh. It’s artwork, really; a proper Picasso.
His other favorite body part...well, take a lucky guess. It’s likely not that far off— literally, considering it hangs right between his thighs.
C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)
Harry’s personal preference is cumming inside. He adores feeling the way Y/N tightens around him when he finally orgasms (she’s just so warm and soft and unbelievably tight; it’s like she was made for him), almost as much as he loves seeing her reaction. Her body will immediately start to wriggle and her back will arch as she releases broken little whimpers, clinging to his shoulders with her nails and begging him to fill her until he’s milked his worth. Hearing her ragged breathing and feeling her sweaty chest stutter against his is enough to do him in, but when she goes as far as to gnaw on his ear and whine a soft little, “Want it all, baby. Want you dripping out of me when we’re done.” Well, that’s enough to kill him all over again.
Of course, there are times when Harry likes seeing himself all over her, too. On her outstretched tongue, or smeared across her pretty face and plush lips (she looks particularly cute when it ends up all over her eyelashes), or streaked over the valley of her tits, or pooled at the center of her tummy. If he’d been taking her from behind, then he likes seeing it run down the backs of her thighs, or splattered across the dip of her spine. And if she’d been giving him a handjob, then seeing himself dribbling down her fingers is just as good. Why? Because those fingers usually end up in her mouth, which means he ends up all over her tongue, and so the cycle comes full circle. How poetic.
D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
Did Harry suggest wearing a matching set of a vibrating cock ring and buzzing bullet to do grocery shopping once? Yes. Did he drop three glass jars of peach preserves by accident as a result, causing them to have to book it out of the bread aisle while trying to look as unsuspicious as possible, which failed horribly because they were literally hobbling like a crippled elderly couple? Also yes. Did they end up fucking in a Target fitting room? Definitely.
E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)
A lot of experience. Tons. Immense amounts. Insane amounts. Two hundred years of the same seven continents just means two hundred years worth of sex across every single one. And it gives you plenty of time to find the clitoris, as well as giving you a chance to learn the female anatomy like the back of your hand. That being said, Harry doesn’t doubt he could make Y/N cum with his wrists tied behind his back and a blindfold strapped to his face. In fact, he’s made her cum just by using his thigh, so that in itself is enough credibility to last him several more lifetimes. The toy chest in his closet and the fact that he’s well-endowed are bonuses— he knows more than enough tricks to keep her satisfied with just his tongue. Not to mention his fingers— they’re long for a reason.
F = Favorite position
Funny enough, Harry doesn’t have one. He’s spent so many decades cycling through every possible position in existence, it’s gotten to where he can’t pin-point a preference; all positions are unique, and they each have their own appeal. Reverse cowgirl is nice because he likes watching the way he stretches Y/N open with every plunge of her hips, and it also gives him the luxury of marking his rings across her ass in the process. Regular cowgirl is nice, too— having her chest bouncing in his face is nothing short of a divine miracle, in his opinion. Doggy style is a staple, and there’s always different add-ons he can apply to spice it up; for example, taking her from behind with her wrists tied to her ankles, or bending her over the kitchen counter with her face pressed into the marble, or fucking her against his glass wall with her hands and chest flushed to the cool surface as their breaths fog the floor-to-ceiling window.
Missionary is a tried and true option, and just like it’s prior counterpart, it can be enhanced with a variety of extra tricks. Bondage is a good condiment, against the wall is always a nice touch, spread-eagle never goes wrong, and just having her legs wrapped around his lower back is more than enough. However, he does have two favorite variations of the position. The first is when he mounts her legs onto his shoulders or along the inside of his elbows to open her up more, and then just ramming his hips down at a very specific angle that hits her g-spot just right, pounding her into the bed so hard she tears the sheets off the mattress. The second is a cowgirl-missionary hybrid: he sits back on his heels and uses the steep downward slope created by his thighs as elevation, pulling her ass onto his tilted lap and swinging her legs over either side of his hips. He gropes her waist with his palms and yanks her forward, bouncing her against his cock and watching her completely dismantle as he nudges all the right places with as much speed and force as she deems fit.
And then there’s fucking from the side, but that’s a whole other extensive conversation he doesn’t have time for.
Actually, maybe Harry will entertain it for a minute or so. He usually throws one of Y/N’s legs over his neck to get a deeper range, manhandling her roughly onto her side and yanking her closer to his body by her waist, grasping it with stern vigor and holding her down against the mattress, grunting out a gravelly, strict command along the lines of, “Stay fucking still.” He’ll drill into her at a brutal, consistent pace, staining his fingerprints along the curves of her torso and sponging damp kisses onto her ankle, smirking into her skin as he watches her fist at the duvet in a futile attempt at maintaining her bearings. It’s pretty evident that she can’t, though; the way her eyes lull around their sockets from his harsh stride does a terrible job at hiding her lack of self-control, alongside the fragmented curses she gasps out whenever he nudges her g-spot with the head of his cock.
“Oh, that was such a pretty noise. Did I hit that little spot you like?”
Her response will be begrudging, as always, which he thinks is ridiculously useless considering he can see her burying her face into the pillow to hide how her jaw drops open in sheer rapture. “No.”
“No?” The vampire leans forward, stretching her leg towards the headboard and preening at the garbled squeak that escapes her gritted teeth, plunging deeper as he lowers himself to her level. He knots her hair around his knuckles, tugging sharply until her face is tilted back enough to meet his fiery gaze. “Then why are you starting to shake?
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
It depends on the mood, honestly. There are definitely serious moments, but Harry enjoys the humorous ones just as much. He already adores making Y/N laugh and smile on a regular basis, and that desire only grows when he’s buried between her thighs, simply because she just looks so fucking cute laughing with her hair splayed around the pillows in a messy halo, her sounds of glee stuttering due to how sharply she’s jolting against the bed. He loves feeling her giggle into his mouth as he cracks sarcastic jokes and makes stupid witty comments that break the intensity in the air, especially because she’s usually clever enough to return them with some of her own. Then they both end up snickering like idiots as he tries to keep a solid pace, which eventually tapers to a messy, haphazard stride as their laughter drowns out their goal to the point where he has to take a genuine break to collect himself. There’s tons of examples— how could there not be? Sex is hardly ever perfect, so awkward moments are not only expected, but guaranteed. What better way to handle them than with a bit of humor?
There was an incident once where Harry accidentally knocked their foreheads together so hard, they both bruised (which he responded to with, “I’m pretty sure this isn’t what Cosmopolitan meant when they suggested matching couples tattoos.”). Another time, he got so into the moment he didn’t realize he was jack-hammering the top of her head into the backboard until she brought it to his attention (and made a comment saying it sounded like a sped up version of the beat to We Will Rock You). A bad case of the hiccups. Y/N burping right in his face halfway through his orgasm. A random leg cramp that made him think he was going to need amputation to survive. Accidentally rolling off the bed or couch onto the ground and nearly dislocating both of their spines in the process, getting his cross earring tangled in her hair and nearly ripping off his ear trying to get it out, and the unfortunate collapse of a pillow fort he’d spent over an hour building. He even sneezed in her face once, and when she instinctively went to shove him back, she wound up slamming her palm into his nose so hard he nearly passed out. Nose bleeds aren’t necessarily sexy, per se, but he just dug blindly through her nightstand until he found two new tampons somewhere in that black hole she calls a drawer, shoved them in his nostrils, and kept going. No one can ever accuse him of being unresourceful.
Queefing. Lots and lots of queefing, which he usually starts mimicking with his mouth, and then she responds to that by whining and telling him to cut it out, and then he takes to mocking her whining instead. It normally finishes with them laughing so hard that Harry’s cheeks hurt from smiling so big, but it’s a good type of pain. The best type of pain.
H = Hair (how do they groom?)
Harry likes keeping himself neat and orderly, but he doesn’t enjoy going bare, so trimming is his grooming preference. There’s just something so unappealing about a completely smooth dick— it looks like raw chicken and it’s fucking disgusting. He doesn’t have anything against a good bush, but it tends to get unruly and he’d rather not have to overcomplicate his shower routine. And honestly, he can’t trust himself because last time he had a full front yard going, he got shitfaced and tried to braid it on a dare. Keeping the hedges trimmed is the ideal landscaping option, and it just looks way hotter— a uniform dusting of hair is a good accessory and it just makes everything look more cohesive, given that he also fancies keeping his happy trail thick. It’s all about aesthetics, isn’t it?
I = Intimacy (the romantic aspect)
It’s no secret that Harry’s been somewhat detached from intimacy for the last two hundred years or so. Intimacy is reserved for genuine romance, and that’s something he hadn’t entertained since before the lightbulb was invented. But now that he has Y/N, intimacy has crawled its way back out from the deepest recesses of his subconscious, where it had been shoved into a bottomless pit with the rest of his trauma. He likes it— he likes opening up to her in any way he can, because sharing those obsolete parts of himself with someone again is more fulfilling than he ever imagined. He likes kissing her randomly when she’s halfway through a sentence, just to feel her words die off abruptly in her throat as she gives into his gentle gesture, a delicate smile spreading across her satin lips. He likes whispering sweet phrases of encouragement into her hair when they’re tangled amidst sweaty limbs and rumpled sheets, reminding her of how much he cares for her and how beautiful she looks when she’s so far gone and how she makes him feel like his entire body has been set alight. He likes sponging soft pecks across the stretch marks along her thighs and across the dimples on her belly, her skin candy and velvet on his tongue as she releases a watery sigh that lets him know he’s doing all the right things in all the right places. He just likes letting her know she's special to him, in any and every way he can.
Intimacy forges timeless bonds, and he reckons that assumption is unarguable, considering he knows a thing or two about eternity.
J = Jack Off (masturbation headcanon)
Harry likes to jack off, obviously. Who doesn’t? It’s why he has an entire section of his toy chest dedicated to self-pleasuring tools. Vibrating cock rings, an array of lubes that range from temperature-changing to sensation sensitivity, and a few pocket vags that get the job done whenever Y/N is out of commission (usually because of work). His favorite one is an electronic sleek black model that is made of a premium silicone material and has a variety of massage settings, suction strengths, and internal textures. It’s designed to make the session feel more real, and yes, it was expensive, but self-love is always worth the splurge.
The beauty of living on his own is that he can get off wherever and whenever he wants, without having to stress about someone interrupting an important step in his pampering routine. He usually does it in his room and on his bed, simply because Y/N’s pillow is close by and the experience is heightened when her scent is swimming around his hazy, bliss-drunken mind. If Harry is feeling particularly needy, he’ll ditch the toy all together and just hump one out against the mattress or cushion. If it’s a particularly restless day, he’ll take a toy downstairs and lazily play within himself on the couch while browsing through Netflix. Those instances usually average a few tamer orgasms rather than a single large one, but he’s not complaining; his stamina comes in unapologetic waves that stem from a never-ending supply, and he certainly has the time to kill. If Harry gets the sudden urge in the shower or while he’s relaxing in his jacuzzi, he won’t bother fetching a trinket; he’ll just stroke one out with his hand, using the cool metal of his trusty lionhead ring to tease the tip until he brings himself to orgasm. It turns out daylight crystals have more than one use.
There is one common factor amongst all these different choices, though: Y/N is present in every fantasy. And if the vampire is feeling especially bold, he’ll grab his phone and take a video of whatever he’s doing to himself, and then she’ll have a nice little gift waiting for her once she gets out of the café for the day. That usually leads to him receiving a present in return later that evening, and then he’s dialing her contact before the clip is even done playing, and then what he does during his alone time doesn’t require him being so alone anymore.
K = Kinks
Harry has tons— in fact, he has so many, he can’t really keep track. And he also has the sneaking suspicion that if he were to ever jot all of them down, he’d end up locked in some type of sex addict rehabilitation center. Bondage is a big one, so he’ll start there. He’s great with ropes, given that he learned his way around them ages ago. Chains are nice, but they can be a pain to set up without the right equipment; he’s thinking of getting a reinforced metal hook installed into his ceiling, like the one in his storage closet, which he uses to keep his punching bag secure. Handcuffs, obviously— velvet-lined, straight metal, fuzzy coverings, he’s got it all. Dominance, degradation, Daddy, Sir, choking, brat-taming, spanking, flogging, slapping— impact play in general, to be honest— spitting, wax, praise, begging, masochism, branding (mild stuff, no molten metal shit), collaring, discipline, dirty talk, edging, exhibitionism, face-fucking, face-sitting (with him on the receiving end), giving oral (is that a kink? It is now.) gagging (both the action and using the actual object itself), breeding (he hates that term but that’s the official name, unfortunately), teasing, voyeurism, role play, and… he thinks that’s it. Oh, and blood, but that doesn’t really count for apparent reasons.
L = Location (favorite places to do the do)
Y/N’s couch is sacred, at this point. Their entire relationship started on that lumpy, worn excuse of a sofa, and it’s seen them through their progression from strangers to friends with benefits to lovers to more. It’s comfortable enough, the dark color hides any explicit stains, and the cushions always smell of her signature mixture of honey and lavender combined with Snuggle fabric softener. It’s finicky, but irreplaceable. His kitchen counter is a close second. It’s provided a lot, taken a lot, been through a lot— through a lot of Lysol wipes, to be specific. If it wasn’t marble, it likely would have been reduced to chunks and rubble by now, courtesy of his enhanced strength gripping the edges as he slams her against the smooth surface. The backseat of his Cadillac is consecrated, as well; there’s just so much erotic appeal to fucking in a car with rock music blaring in the background, muffling the obscene sounds of bodies connecting and a mixture of fever-pitch moans. The couch, the counter, and the Cadillac— the Unholy Trinity.
The jacuzzi is nice, too, but for the sake of his clever little “c” alliteration, he’ll leave that one as an implied token.
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
As much as Harry claims he likes full submission in bed, he can’t deny that he loves being challenged. Delivering punishment and coaxing out an orgasm is so much more satisfying when he has to fight for it; it’s so fucking hot watching his girlfriend try to best him in a power struggle, especially when she finally— and undeniably, since he always wins— caves under his will and winds up begging him for what he otherwise would have gifted her freely. That’s where the brat-taming kink comes into play. He likes it when she mouths off and makes snarky digs, and he enjoys it even more when he tries to set her in place and she amps her disobedience as a result. There’s nothing more attractive than a battle of wits with someone who is a perfect match in every way. And when she channels her attitude into physical gestures, it riles him up beyond compare. For example, when she smirks and rolls her eyes, despite the fact that there’s trails of tears staining her cheeks and mascara smeared all over her waterline? Christ, he could go feral.
N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
No feet, no feces, no beastiality. There’s probably more, but those are the ones off the top of his head.
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
Receiving oral is great— he highly recommends it, solid ten out of ten— but giving it is so much better. Harry’s always been a giver, even when he was young and barely knew his way around a woman’s undergarments. The stereotypical expectation for a person who is beginning to explore their sexuality is that everything they do, they do for their own gain. It’s a selfish realization, yes, but it’s a primal type of selfishness that no one can truly be blamed for. It’s a simple concept: when you start having sex, you want as much personal benefit as possible. It’s only natural. But from the second Harry became sexually active, he came to find that providing release to his partner outweighed the bliss he could get from letting them pleasure him instead. It’s not direct pleasure, but rather cognitive, which more often than not translates itself physically. And when it comes to Y/N, that euphoria manifests tenfold.
Nothing compares to having his face buried between her legs as she tugs and yanks at his hair desperately, her chest heaving and jaw falling open as he uses his tongue to unravel her from the inside out. Spitting sloppily onto her folds and hearing the raw gasp of aroused shock that escapes her sore throat, which causes his swollen lips to spread into a dirty grin as he latches onto the sensitive bud at the thick of her core, fiddling with it until her legs are trembling uncontrollably around his sturdy shoulders. Watching her features go slack as he bobs his neck fervently between her thighs, swiping the bridge of his nose across her clit over and over until the entire bottom half of his face is drenched in her excitement. Fucking his tongue into her and feeling her buck against his jaw as she holds him in place with her fingers tangled in his curls, whimpering his name repeatedly in a voice so shattered, he could probably build a mosaic with the fractures. Feeling her drip down his chin and into the collar of his shirt, savoring how sweet she tastes as he pins her hips down against the bed and groans feverishly into her cunt, his ego idolizing the image of her so disheveled under his influence.
A measly blowjob is hardly any competition to that. Harry could very well cum just from eating Y/N out. In fact, he has, and that in itself is all the proof he needs.
P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
This is one of those other factors that depends on the mood. If Harry has been waiting all day for it, his impatience bleeds into his rhythm, which means he settles for fast and hard. It means he settles for bending her over the back of his couch with one palm around her throat and his other fingers in her mouth, pounding into her with so much force, the sofa starts shifting across the ground. If Y/N has been teasing him endlessly for a decent amount of time, it’ll be rough and deep, but not fast; he’ll drag it out for as long as possible, just to make her regret acting like such a spoiled brat. That’s when he brings out the paddle, or the crop, or just manhandles her across his lap and spanks her until she’s apologizing profusely through her whines. If he’s in a soft, romantic headspace, it’ll be slow and sensual, with lots of gentle caresses, giggly kisses dusted across eager lips and droopy eyelids, and penetrating strokes that make his toes curl and tummy clench.
Pace is relative, but the message behind it is all the same: I want you more than anything, and I’m going to show you just how deeply I mean it.
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
Quickies are fun, Harry will admit. They’re filthy and messy, and they show just how far gone two people are for each other to the point where they can’t wait to feel one another at a later time; that they need to be together now, or they’ll go absolutely insane. Quickies are saved for when the urge strikes at random times. For when he’s out with Y/N at a park, sitting under the shade with his head in her lap as she combs his curls out of his eyes and thumbs over his chin affectionately, and the sun filters through the tree canopy just right to where it illuminates her lashes and the suppleness of her cheeks in a manner he deems ethereal. For when they’re at the mall, walking hand in hand and licking at ice cream cones as they survey the shops, and she reaches over to wipe a bit of Rocky Road off the corner of his mouth, replacing the stain with a soft stipple of her lips instead. For when they’re out eating dinner and playing footsie under the table like immature teenagers, and she’s trying to steal a French fry from his plate but he keeps fighting her off with his fork because, “I told you to order your own, but you wanted those disgusting potato skins instead!” And she’s laughing so brightly and unapologetically, giving him a look that so obviously tells him she can’t wait to get him alone, and nothing seems quite as flawless as that fraction in time, then and there and nowhere else.
These simple but memorable moments cause him to get love boners, which he jokingly refers to as “sniffy stiffies,” where “sniffy” has to do with being sentimental, and “stiffy”...well, that one is pretty self-explanatory, no? It always ends with them shagging in the car, or in the family bathroom of a diner, and in the case of the park, in an obscure area of the forest that lines the jogging trail.
Quickies are just that— fast, but meaningful nonetheless, because they come from a place of genuine emotion. They’re fleeting, but unforgettable. Sniffy stiffy quickies, if you will.
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)
Taking risks is the norm in Harry’s life, especially when it comes to his sex habits. He’s proven time and time again that he has no problem riding along the seams of a dare and just barely making it out unscathed, so experimenting outside of the bedroom is just another day in the life. Fingering Y/N in a music room in an antique shop, getting road head during a two hour drive back to Los Angeles, ripping his girlfriend’s panties out from beneath her dress at one of California’s most prestigious restaurants— the list is endless, really. Harry likes to think he has a gift for coming up with inspirational quotes on the spot, so he’ll lend his expertise here and now: “A life without risks is a life that isn’t worth shit.” It even rhymes, so he knows sorority pledges will have a ball putting it in their Instagram bios. A bit of charity work for the bird-brained.
S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
Endless stamina. Literally. Vampires don’t stay tired for long, so he could be ready to go again within seconds. And he can last long, as well; his stubbornness and pride depend on it, and he likes making his partner cum first as an ego boost. He can go as many rounds as Y/N can and more, though he won’t push it. He doesn’t want her to end up in the ER with a bruised cervix.
T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
Harry could run a sex shop from his closet; Y/N doesn’t take the piss by calling him “Fifty Shades” for no reason. He uses them on himself, he uses them on her, and he got high once and tried to sword fight Y/N with a dildo, so it’s safe to say he definitely uses them quite a bit. If his Lovesense Lush 3 vibrator could talk, he’d be drawn and quartered for excessive debauchery.
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
Harry loves teasing, that’s no mystery. Winding people up is one of his most practiced skills, so of course that would channel into his intimate life. He’s mastered it, though it’s not like it’s hard. A drawn out blink here, or a feathery touch there. An inch of space between his and Y/N’s lips to establish some tension, or squeezing her inner thigh with his palm hard enough to draw a tiny squeak from her chest. Touching her through her clothes, or leaving a trail of wet kisses down her throat and stopping right at her cleavage. Biting the sensitive skin along the inside of her knee, or dragging the tip of his cold nose down the center of her twitching tummy. Lapping slowly at her nipples until they perk up, or sinking a single long digit inside her and keeping it there just to feel her clench around it needily. And once he gets a pattern going, teasing molds into edging, edging molds into begging, begging molds into praise, and before he knows it, he’s hit four of his kinks with one roll of the dice.
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
Harry is very vocal in bed, and he’s not ashamed of it. He knows for a fact that Y/N loves it, and if him being loud gets her worked up, then he’ll let his throat go out in the process. He’s noticed that in different situations, he has an arsenal of sounds for each. If he’s being rough and dominant, he tends to groan, grunt, and growl. If he’s being desperate and needy, he turns to whines and whimpers to communicate how he feels. If he’s too zoned into the moment to distinguish all his emotions, broken moans and stuttered mewls are his default. No matter the circumstance, they all take the same route: they start low and soft, and escalate in volume proportional to the intensity of the moment. So what if half the building is hearing him orgasm for the third time as he mocks his girlfriends sobbing pleads and calls her his “dirty fucking whore”? Let’s be honest, it’s probably the highlight of their week. He has a great voice— a sultry, deep baritone that compliments his English accent nicely— and anyone would be lucky to hear it spew the filth it does. He’s yet to get many complaints, so he doesn’t intend on stopping.
W = Wildcard (random headcanon)
An honesty hour moment seems interesting, so he’ll confess a few tales from his past. The first time Harry ever went down on a girl, it was against a tree in a garden and he nearly asphyxiated under all the layers of her gown. A couple of years later, he ended up getting oral from a reverend’s daughter against a tree, too, for the morbid irony and associated religious revenge. And to drive the point home, oral was only the beginning of what she gave him. His first decade as a vampire was definitely his pettiest.
X = X-Ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)
It’s not uncommon knowledge that Harry’s well-endowed. He remembers how insecure he was the first time he had sex— a shocker, he knows; he was insecure?— and how he knew barely anything regarding sizing and how to use his assets accordingly. But it’s been ages since then, and now he definitely knows his way around his own body (let alone his partner’s), and he most certainly knows that he’s above average not only as a person in general, but when it comes to what’s in his trousers, as well. Harry won’t specify inches— he loves how speculation drives others mad— but it was big enough to give Y/N a decent pause the first time she pulled down his pants, and it’s big enough to leave her absolutely fucked every single time, without a single miss. If that’s not credibility at its finest, then he doesn’t know what is.
Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)
Harry’s sex drive is insatiable, to say the least. His vampirism combined with his narcissistic tendencies makes the ideal cocktail— cocktail— for the constant fuse that’s always burning under his skin. He’s ready to go at all times; Y/N just has to say the word and he’s pulling on a pair of sweatpants as he grabs his keys, hopping down his complex’s corridor toward the elevator on one foot as he tries to get his last shoe on the other. Lazy morning sex is probably his favorite; he’s come to find it’s when he’s most pent up, usually after a sleepless night of feeling Y/N’s body heat radiating through all of his cold limbs. It also sets a great tone for the rest of the day, and he just loves seeing Y/N wake up to him lying on his side with his temple resting on his fist, his elbow propped against the mattress as he poses the other on his hip in a theatrical diva stance. He’ll smile at her giddily with all his pearly teeth, dimples twitching as his lashes flutter dramatically, dirty intentions written clear all over his face (“Good morning, hon—” “Wanna have sex?” “Harry, it’s ten in the morning.” “Is that a yes? Because it’s not a no.” “I haven’t even brushed my teeth!” “That’s fine, I’m gonna stick my dick in there anyways.”)
All in all, his libido is insane, and he’s lucky that Y/N’s is up to par or else he would have worked her into an exhaustion-induced coma by now.
Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
Harry just...doesn't. Maybe once every few weeks, but definitely more often now than before he had his girlfriend. Sleeping just comes way easier when he has someone he cares about resting beside him, their inherent warmth thawing the stiffness from his muscles and putting his racing mind at ease. He feels safe enough around Y/N to let his guard down— both literally and metaphorically— and that seems to help with his supernatural insomnia; it sedates that nocturnal hyper-instinct in his brain that demands he be aware at all times, muffling the animalistic part of him that has been manning the reins for the better half of the last two hundred years. He doesn’t need to be so on edge anymore when everything he needs is just an arm-length away. Especially when she’s usually willing to lend her chest as a pillow, and who is he to neglect her wishes.
#ysijwa#harry styles smut#vampire!harry#harry styles x reader#harry styles x y/n#harry styles x oc#harry styles x you#harry styles dirty one shot#harry styles mature#harry styles dirty fanfiction#harry styles fanfiction
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thank you for infecting me with total naoya brain rot, nat. can i request a breeding kink scenario with him and curvy, thick reader that he thinks looks perfect for bearing him an heir 👀 feel free to make him as nasty as you want, i love to read about this absolute trash fire of a man
Covet - Naoya x Fem!Reader (3.6k)
Naoya wants something from you - you see a chance to get something you want too.
warnings: afab reader, fem pronouns. breeding. power imbalance (reader is a maid at the zen’in estate). talk of pregnancy, knives, misogyny, fingering, coming inside/creampies. the mandatory warning that this fic is about naoya.
You are fairly certain that Naoya Zenin does not know whether you exist. If he has ever noticed you attending to your duties, so much lower and less important than he, he probably doesn’t like you.
At least, you did not think he liked you before this moment. Even now, with his hands on your hips and your body pressed flush against the wall outside his chambers, you’re not certain – there’s a weight to the way he’s holding you, a twist to his lips that you can see from where your cheek has met cool wallpaper. He looks like he’s considering you; sizing you up.
Your cheeks burn as he sizes up your lower half, eyes tracing your hips and ass and thighs without even a hint of remorse, as if it’s his god-given right to look upon you like this even though you’ve barely ever spoken more than a cursory polite; ‘I brought you this, Sir’. That’s what you’ve been taught to do.
Be respectful, stick to the shadows, do what you’re told. It’s an honour to serve the Zenin clan, it’s an honour to be here in the estate – it’s an honour to get a brief moment of any of their time, even if they’re just making demands on you. You sometimes hate yourself, for not being born one of them - you want, you want, you want, like a physical ache. The luxury. The nice treatment. People to think that you merely blessing them with a look is an honour--
It’s an especial honour to be worth Naoya’s time – everybody knows that he’s going to be the next leader. There are always rumours buzzing around the grounds about him; about his power, about his temper, about his personality . . . about which pretty young woman he’ll make his wife and have beside him to rule the clan.
You’re brought back to what’s currently happening by his hands sliding down from where he is clinging onto your hips, generously tracing the curve, admiring just how broad they are.
“Pity you have to hide beneath that,” he says, smirking. Your cheeks are hot. “You’re pretty, you know. At least. . .” One hand moves from your hip, thumb and forefinger squeezing your cheeks to turn them more thoroughly towards him. He looks entirely unruffled by the situation, every inch of him at ease that you will bend to what he wants. “Your body is pretty.” Eyes scan over your face, and you’re suddenly aware of every imperfection, every feature you’ve ever scrutinised. “Hm. Not bad either.”
“I . . . I don’t understand,” You find yourself breathing. He raises one elegant eyebrow. The hand that’s on your hip moves, tracing the plush of your ass through fabric, his lip curling into a smirk. He presses a little bit forward and you feel something stiff press against your other cheek (the one not occupied by his hand) – and your throat goes dry as you realise precisely what he means.
Oh.
Oh.
You should run. Good girls do not do what Naoya wants you to do. You have duties to attend to! You have things that must be done, lest your seniors sigh and tut at you and punish you for neglecting your work. But your throat is very dry and your heart is pounding and there is suddenly a strange twist of heat low in your gut, as Naoya Zenin looks down at you with the air of a man who will devour you if you let him.
You can’t deny it’s thrilling to be wanted – more thrilling to be wanted by someone like him.
“I’ll give you ten seconds,” he says, and his tone is patronising. “If you don’t want me to take you to bed and fuck you, I suggest you make yourself scarce.”
He says it so openly, so brazenly – you suppose that’s what comes of being born into this family. He has nothing to fear in these walls. Not like you.
You imagine yourself underneath him for a second, his hair in disarray, hakama abandoned, his perfectly composed face twisted in pleasure. You should not go to his bed. But . . . you want to. And don’t you deserve something you want, when you’ve spent your entire life watching other people enjoy it?
“You don’t need to,” you breathe, swallowing. Naoya pulls back in amusement, his eyes darkening. He seems so much taller and stronger than you. Even swathed in fabric, it’s clear that there is muscle and strength beneath the clothes. He has been trained to within an inch of his life since the day he was born. He makes a considering noise in the back of his throat. A thumb trails over your cheek.
“Are you sure about that?” The smirk in his voice says that he knows you are. “I won’t be gentle with you, you know. I don’t have all day to romance you. I just want to get you on your back . . .” His thumb slides over your jawline, past your earlobe, until he’s taken a hank of your hair and yanks it back roughly, exposing your throat and making you gasp. “And fuck a son into you.”
He must see the look on your face, because he laughs, the sound cruel even to your ears. He’s still pressed so close to you. Nobody who walked down this hallway would mistake the embrace the two of you were currently in for anything clandestine. You suppose he has nothing to worry about – but your reputation? He’d ruin you for marriage.
“Come on,” he murmurs, chuckling. “Have you seen yourself? You’re made for bearing a child, sweetheart.” The pet name is almost mocking, but your heart skips a beat anyway. “Don’t worry too much. You don’t think I could take care of you, if you carried my heir? You’re a servant, right? You already know how to behave.” His smile is like a wolf. “So, I give you my word that if it takes, I’ll take care of you. Sounds fair, huh?” He jerks on your hair again. “Ten seconds,” he reminds you. “If you want to get out of it. You don’t think there are girls lining up around the block to have me?”
(Judging by the whispers about him, you actually don’t think there are – but judging from Naoya’s eyes, he certainly thinks so.)
He lets go. He steps back. His eyes are still on you, but he raises his arms either side of him as if to show you that you’re free to go. And you do consider it – you let the possibility of running flicker through your head. It’s quickly replaced by the thought of Naoya on top of you, an end to the aching between your legs, and the knowledge of just how you might be treated if Naoya did succeed in his mission.
It’s fine to want nice things, every once in a while.
“Five,” he says, warningly, but his eyes are dark with hunger. “Four. Three.”
You turn towards his bedroom door and grasp the handle, and he laughs, the sound very loud.
“Oh,” he says, “so you’re going to be fun.”
The minute his bedroom door clicks behind him, Naoya wastes no time on being on you. He’s full throttle, immediately – hands pulling at your clothes, rough, his mouth on your neck. He avoids your mouth, like he doesn’t quite want to kiss you – but as you bite back a moan as he nips at your throat and he groans in response at the noise, you realise that he wants to hear you.
Figures a man like that wants the reassurance that you’re enjoying yourself. Figures he wants to crow over every whimper that drops from your lips. Hands pull at your kimono, almost ripping it in his hurry to have the fabric out of his way and on the floor. You barely even notice he’s been pushing you across the room until you’re pushed hard down, and your back meets pillows and sheets instead of the floor.
The way you fall makes a perfect tableaux; the material of your outfit pooling around you, your body in the middle of it, clad in only your underwear. His light eyes rake over you hungrily.
“Fuck,” he says. His hands immediately go to your hips, thumbs pressing hard into the soft flesh. You barely fit in his hands, the curve of you dramatic. “You’re going to be perfect for this, huh? Look at you. It’s a fucking shame you’re not knocked up right now--”
Your body reacts to his touch and his look, though you can’t help but be embarrassed by it – it’s one thing to be entranced by someone pretty, you think, but it’s another thing to be entranced by the idea of how pretty someone will look when their stomach is swollen and their breasts have swelled and their hips have filled out because they’re bearing your child.
He doesn’t bother with unclipping your bra. He reaches into his hakama and panic flashes before your eyes when he pulls out a knife, but he uses it merely to slice the gore between your bra cups, right between the cute bow adorning them.
“I—I liked that,” you say, but your voice sounds very wobbly in the room, under Naoya’s gaze, under his hands. He snorts.
“I like you better without it,” he says shortly, as if your likes and dislikes are not a consideration to be taken into account. For him, you suppose they’re not. “Besides.” Hands travel from your hips to cup your breasts, squeezing the meat of the mounds so that you groan and arch your back, desire pooling between your legs. “I wanted to see these. I wanted to touch them.” He grins. “I wanted to imagine how nice they’re going to look when they get bigger.”
He squeezes the point of each of your nipples, so hard that the pleasure almost becomes pain.
“I think I’ll leave marks on you,” he says, conversationally. He pulls an arm back and suddenly has slapped you, your breast stinging, a brief imprint of his hand showing on your skin. He admires how your breast moves with the force – you’re too surprised to even make a noise of pain. “Good girl. I want you to remember how I feel when we’re done.”
You don’t think you could forget. You definitely can’t forget the sting of the second slap, this one making you moan – it hurts, but part of it feels good to be marked by him. You definitely can’t forget his thumbs hooking into your underwear, dragging it past your thighs – the way that he drinks in the wet patch on the fabric. You definitely don’t think you’ll be able to forget the chuckle that leaves his mouth as he spreads your thighs and sees your sex for the first time, already slick.
“You like being treated rough, huh?” He asks you. There’s that grin again; a predator, a man who has never been told no, a man who doesn’t know what it’s like to not have everything he has ever wanted at his fingertips. “Good. I like playing rough.”
He still doesn’t kiss you. He dives his head down, though, his teeth once more nipping at your neck, at your breast, tongue lathing across your nipples. One of his hand delves between your legs, spreading the plump labia, fingers briefly stroking your clit and sending a hot bolt of lightning all through you.
“That’s right,” he murmurs, as he pushes a finger inside of you. You’re slick and tight around his digits, hot and silky – one of his fingers alone is like a vice. You’re going to feel so good. He doesn’t much care whether his cock hurts you or not – but he wants you to be so fucked out by the time he’s come inside you that you don’t care about him leaving your legs propped up so not a single trickle of come leaks out of you. He doesn’t want a whimpering little bitch in his bed – he wants someone who’ll lie there, patiently, prettily, and let him make sure it takes.
You’re going to be good for that, he knows it. With a body like that, and eyes like that, and a clear longing for something better than the shitty hand you’ve been dealt? Oh, yes. You might not know it, but Naoya likes you immensely.
That you’re a servant, who’s been taught your place - that you’ll look at the ground respectfully and walk behind him and agree to whatever he says, like women should? Even better. Perfect. Fuck any of those snooty young women of a clan who think that just because they were born with a name, they were somehow more than a cunt for breeding--
Two fingers. This one gets a cry from you, almost too full – Naoya clicks his tongue against his teeth. He’s not patient, but he slows down, scissoring you open. One of your hands seems to flex out as if going to grab his bicep – but thinks better of it, clutching for purchase on the bed instead. Cute.
He can’t help but watch his fingers dive in and out of you, already coated in your liberal slick. They already look so good – he can’t even imagine how good his cock will look, hilted so deep in you he’s all you can feel.
Three fingers. You’re making soft little noises, circling your hips – there’s a coil in your belly that Naoya’s fingers are stoking in a way you didn’t expect, one that you feel like you’re so close to getting to spring forth – he slides his fingers out of you as he feels you tightening and tensing around him. If you’re close enough to come on his fingers, he reasons, you’re close enough to take his cock.
He didn’t expect to be so entranced by how pretty you looked, all curves and soft on his bed – but there’s time for that later. Right now, his cock is driving a hole through his own underwear. The thought of fucking his seed into you, of having you coming around his cock . . . you moan in frustration at the lack of stimulation as his hands busy themselves peeling off his own clothes.
“What’s the matter?” He asks you, a little breathless. You don’t notice that – good. He hates people witnessing weakness. “You need to be filled up?”
“I—” your teeth dig into your bottom lip, and Naoya has the urge to kiss you that he pushes back.
Not now. Not yet. Not while you’re still scum. He can transform you, and maybe you’ll be worthy of that – but right now, you’re an empty shell, and Naoya needs to mould you into something fuller and better before he’ll lower himself to brush his lips over your own. That’s too intimate. That’s too much.
“You don’t need to use your words,” he purrs. “You’re soaking wet.”
You urge your thighs further apart as Naoya’s clothes slip off of him and you see his cock jutting proud against his stomach. You haven’t had much experience to know whether it’s a nice cock, whether he’s big – but Naoya grins when he sees you looking, ferocity sparking in his expression.
“You may as well look at it,” he tells you, “because it’s going to be buried inside you in just a moment--”
He’s on the bed, his body on top of yours. His hands are clinging to the hips he’s admired so much, his grip tight enough to mark. His face is close enough that you can see the sculpt of his lips and the fan of his eyelashes, the dark pupils. The wet head of his cock smears precome on your thigh as he positions himself at your entrance – and as he sinks inside, your body welcomes him.
He hisses in fluid pleasure as his cock descends inside of you inch by slow, inexorable inch – the stretch, the burn, the slick fluid pleasure. This time, one of your hands does find purchase on his shoulder – but Naoya is enjoying the feeling of your walls kissing his cock, embracing him tight and deep, too much to snap at you for being such an insolent thing. Your nails leave little crescent moon marks in his shoulder that he decides to forgive. After all – you’ll have bruises in the shape of his handprints tomorrow, he knows it. He doesn’t have a single crumb of shame about it.
If he gets his way, you’ll have more than just those as a mark of tonight. He hilts inside you, his skin pressing hot against yours. You’re so full – he feels so very deep, buried as far as he can go. All of your breath has been knocked out of you.
Your eyes meet his for just a moment.
“Better hold on,” he tells you. “I told you I wouldn’t be gentle.”
The first pull out is swift, immediately thrusting back inside you with such force that your body rocks on the bed. He wasn’t lying about not being gentle; his hips quickly establish a punishing rhythm, helped along by the slick glide of your channel, the wetness leaking around his cock. He pulls you a little with every thrust, the hands on his hips assisting him being able to watch his cock drive in and out of your sex. It’s a mark of the strength he has that the only sign that you weigh anything at all is a huff of breath in between his thrusts – you’ve never exactly felt delicate in your life, but something about Naoya’s way of handling you makes you think that he could break you in half if he tried.
That is, if his rough thrusts in and out of you don’t split you in two first. You give up trying to do anything other than hold onto him, your mouth dropping open in a series of wordless wails and moans.
(Naoya prefers quiet women, he has to admit – but there’s something endearing about you giving up in bed, giving yourself to him in voice as well as body. Perhaps he doesn’t mind a loud woman, as long as the reason she’s loud is because he’s fucking her silly).
His skin slaps against your skin. The sound mixes with your own whimpers and gasps, Naoya’s quieter breathing, the embarrassingly wet sounds of his cock plunging in and out of you. The release that was denied to you earlier with his fingers is creeping back up on you again, all hot pleasure and tight tension. With every thrust, Naoya is hitting a spot amongst your plush walls that has your eyes rolling back in your head and your body all hot and needy. He doesn’t care if you come, really – this isn’t about you – but . . . just another of those things he supposes he could get used to, as the ball of pleasure inside of you finally unravels and you feel yourself come.
And oh, he could get used to that feeling too – how your walls pulsate around him, pulling his cock tighter inside of you, practically milking him. His hips just get faster, snapping against you like a man possessed – heh. Isn’t that funny?
Your chest is heaving, but he’s enjoying the feel of your hips too much to play with your tits again. When they’re all swollen with milk and bigger and rounder, he’ll probably fuck you again, slower . . . and then, he’ll get his feel of touching them. Just like he’ll get his feel of your thighs even plusher, your stomach rounder, your hips even better in his grip--
It’s those thoughts that push him over the edge. Your body softened and rounded with his child – his son, his heir. You’re fucking perfect for it. He groans, his hips snapping and driving so deep inside you that you think he’ll break – and then, he’s groaning, and his cock is pulsing inside you as the sensation of his come painting your walls hot and thick overtakes your senses.
He pumps his cock a few more times inside of you after the initial release, as if he’s trying to push his seed even further within you. You’re shuddering, exhausted, your body aching – and so, you don’t argue beyond a soft noise of pain at the unpleasant prickle as he pulls his cock out of you. You don’t argue when he slides a pillow beneath your hips and says;
“Keep your legs bent like that.”
Naoya takes a moment to admire you. Your pretty cunt is darkened from his aggressive fucking, clit swollen, slick with your own desire-- he frowns as he notices a drop of something whiter and thicker. That won’t do. Two fingers roughly push his come back into you, pressing it deeply, making you groan and your hips weakly thrust against them.
It’s cute that you’re still welcoming to his fingers; that your sex still sucks them in as if it’s greedy to be fucked again. Your eyes are half-lidded, glassy – your lips bitten dark. He thinks he could fuck you again and you wouldn’t even complain.
Yes. He grins at you. Give it a little while, to make sure his come takes – and then, he thinks, he will fuck you again. There’s no harm in being thorough, right?
#not sfw#naoya x reader#naoya zenin x reader#naoya zenin x you#jjk smut#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#jjk posting#afab reader#fem pronouns#misogyny for ts#knives for ts#breeding for ts#writing#Anonymous#jjk writing tag
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I was reading through your tags and you mentioned at some point the kazuscara roommates finding your onlyfans and I think I completely combusted—thus i present to you my brain rot of late: you attend the same school as them but you’re not actually friends, all you know about kazuha is that he’s the friendly regular at the cafe you work at, who makes polite conversation every now and then but otherwise is nothing of note. In reality he’s been stalking you for weeks ever since your first encounter, and is dead set on the idea that you’re this innocent, weak thing that needs to be protected (maybe he stepped in when you had a bad customer and your meek reply helped fester his delusions?). Scara, on the other hand, is only aware of your presence since you’re his favourite cam model that he recently found. (Since he’s a harbinger he’s probs loaded) Weeks of funnelling money towards you cause him to feel this unwarranted possessiveness, believing that since he’s been providing so much in your “relationship” that it’s time you reward him in turn. However, despite the unbridled interest they have toward you neither are aware of each other’s feelings for you— that is, until you happen to run into the both of them heading to your class. While both are known for maintaining their stoic masks, they’re friends for a reason— and instantly can tell the attraction their roommates have towards their own “lover”. After kazuha finds your onlyfans he’s certain that you’ve been coerced and wants to save you, while scara thinks it’s time that he’s stopped letting other plebeians look at his possession—so, despite their initial reservations, come together to form the ideal plan. When you find yourself waking up groggy in a room you don’t recognize, all they can do is look on with glee whilst planning their next course of action with their new belonging. They’re friends after all, and good friends share though, don’t they?
This is v long srry lol you can ignore this ofc!!
AAAH, ANON!! YES!!! <3 I couldn’t resist writing more on this concept. orz They make for such a terrifying pair when they work together!
(cw: yandere, stalking, nsfw, implied kidnapping/drugging, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, delusional thoughts, savior complex, implied violence)
What if Kazuha and Scara were just acquainted with one another and actually became closer through their mutual obsession with you? Yes, they’re roommates and ought to get along because they’re living together but they haven’t exactly clicked yet. They talk every now and then and know little things about each other. Nothing too special. They don’t really hang out outside of their dorm either, what with their class schedules being vastly different. And Kazuha’s always out of the dorm doing who-knows-what. Most of his time is spent at a café, where he’ll write and read and stare at you while you work. On the other hand, Scara prefers to stay inside if he doesn’t have a good reason to go out. He likes his alone time. Although he has enjoyed going to the library every now and then to study.
So maybe they need to find some common ground. Maybe they need a push in the right direction before they get closer.
Kazuha likes to stare. Talking to you is great, but he worries he’ll say too much and then he’ll be a nuisance, or you might not want to talk to him at all since you’re working. But you always regard him with a warm smile, happy to scribble his name on the plastic cup because you remember him. Because you recognize his familiar face and soft, gentle eyes. He’s the one who saved you from that rude customer, after all, and he’s a polite regular. Why wouldn’t you know him? You might look like you can handle those types of situations, but what Kazuha saw that day was something entirely different. You were nervous—so soft-spoken and scared. He absolutely has to protect you from those kinds of people now, doesn’t he?
And he does exactly that. He’s your second pair of eyes—your valiant knight in shining armor—who sees and hears all. Sometimes he goes to the café with the intention to simply watch over you and make sure no one’s bothering you. He can recall one time when a customer was speaking rudely about you because her drink hadn’t been prepared in a ‘timely manner.’ In reality it’s impossible to make a drink within a few seconds, especially when you’re already preoccupied with making another customer’s drink. She must’ve woken up on the wrong side of the bed, or maybe she’s just a hateful person in general. You didn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of such fiery insults, though.
Her eyes just can’t see your perfection and therefore she does not deserve to see out of them.
Kazuha’s willing to wrestle with all of this darkness if it means you’ll stay safe, oblivious, and pure. You’re like a defenseless kitten, unable to protect yourself from the scary world. He writes about you a lot in his journal; you’re his muse—someone who constantly shows up in poems and short paragraphs where he tries to describe what your dream date might be or what type of wedding you’d prefer. Things get darker the deeper you delve into his writings, where you’ll find entries in great detail. Kazuha writes a lot and he doesn’t even mean to. He just has to get all of his thoughts on paper before they abandon him and he’s left with emptiness.
Everything you do is pure; you’re almost an equivalent to a holy being. Your smell is pure. Your body is pure. Your actions are pure. Your smile is pure. Even when you’re on the verge of crying from harsh customers or when you’re turning down a confession, you’re still pure. And Kazuha likes that about you because it’s special. There aren’t many people in his life who are completely pure. He’s been through a lot of rough things and has seen firsthand how impure people can be. It’s only fair that he gets a chance to protect purity itself.
He might have some impurities, but that doesn’t deter him from watching over you. As gentle and unassuming as he is, there are times when even he loses his composure. Not many are privy to these dark emotions of his. His smiles are sharp and venomous and his eyes fill with a gloom so dark it can swallow you whole. You’ll never see this side of him; he won’t allow it. Instead you’re treated to his sweet, calm side, where he feigns perfection in hopes of catching your interest.
As for Scara… He doesn’t really care about Kazuha in the beginning. He’s just someone he has to live with. It’s not a big deal and as long as he doesn’t try to make lots of pointless conversation everything will be okay. He prefers the peace and quiet, considering he’s acquainted with people who are far from peaceful and quiet. Scara’s relieved that Kazuha leaves the dorm so often because it gives him an opportunity to watch his favorite cam star’s most recent video. He’s your most loyal follower—someone who’s paid lots of money just to have access to the highest tier of rewards and such. He even got a private video where you addressed him and moaned out his name with lustful thoughts of him. Having lots of money comes in handy.
When he finds out that you go to the same school as him, he’s a little shocked. He didn’t expect you to be so close. You’re practically within touching distance. If only he knew your schedule. If only you were in one of his classes. It’s really annoying that he only knows your online presence and not who you might be in your personal life. The last thing he’s going to do is consult Childe, that popular athlete who knows literally everyone in the school for whatever reason. Surely he knows you. But he’ll die before he ever asks Childe for a favor.
Scara loves you out of every other cam model because you’re different. You’re not just trying to get fast cash. You’re genuine. You listen to your subscribers and their feedback. You do your best to improve and do even better streams than the previous ones. All of your hard work is overlooked by the other fools who watch your streams, but it isn’t overlooked by him. Scara appreciates your attention to detail and the way you’re able to hook him with your breathless voice alone. You’re very skilled at what you do, so it’s only fair you get paid for it.
But buying your services isn’t enough. It’s not a real relationship, but it certainly feels like it when he buys preferential treatment. Private shows, special requests, odd favors—you do it all because he pays for it. But this relationship isn’t going to be one-sided forever. You’ll have to pay him back in full eventually. Scara likes to think he has patience and that waiting is fine. It gives him more time to plan his next move—to figure out what he should do to finally have you all to himself. So that those private shows he watches through a screen can finally be real.
Scara finds the journal sitting innocently on Kazuha’s bed, its maroon cover and maple leaves pulling at his curiosity. He might not know everything about Kazuha, but he’d recognize this journal anywhere. His roommate almost always has it on his person. Scara wouldn’t be surprised if he slept with it. To say he’s curious would be absolutely correct. He can only wonder what Kazuha writes in that thing. Perhaps it’s just notes for a class. That’s what anyone would think, right?
Scara opens it and flips through the first few pages. They’re normal for the most part. Just a bunch of haikus and other useless scribbles. When he skips over some pages, he starts to find things that are far more interesting than poetry and doodles of cats. He finds the majority of the journal is comprised of information. More specifically, there are facts and other knowledge about you—the cam model he’s been obsessed with ever since he stumbled upon your onlyfans. He reads through as much of the journal as he can and instantly learns so much: your address, your roommate, your workplace, your friends’ names, names of any potential exes. The list goes on and on.
Scara doesn’t have anything against Kazuha. His first impression of him wasn’t anything groundbreaking. He thought he was a pushover at first. But now that he knows what this journal holds… Well, it sheds an entirely new light on his roommate.
Just days before Scara took a peek inside his journal, Kazuha discovers your secret online life. He snoops through Scara’s laptop when he steps out, having left it open and unlocked. He’s just trying to find what could have caught Scara’s interest, as he’s almost always glued to his laptop on specific days at specific times, with his headphones on and his gaze unyielding. He doesn’t intend to find the file of one of your private videos—something that was meant only for Scara’s eyes.
He clicks on the video out of interest. He’s not sure what he was expecting to see, but it definitely wasn’t this. Kazuha sits there and stares at the sight before him. You’re dressed in skimpy lingerie and you’re muttering the dirtiest things while coating your fingers in lube. And your hands are stroking a thick toy and you’re addressing Scara and you’re lining it up to your hole and— He shuts the laptop before it can get even more explicit than it already is. He’s so conflicted, fraught with a betrayal so strong it weighs his heart down.
Why would he have this sort of video on his laptop? Did you give it to him? Did he make you do this? Are you in danger? Are you still pure?
Kazuha can’t kill on campus. It’s way too risky and he’d be one of the first suspects if Scara’s body is found. Besides, it’s not like he has the full story. He doesn’t know whether or not Scara’s done something that’s worthy of death. You could just be in a tight spot. He knows how easily you give in when you’re under pressure. Maybe you’re just doing this because you feel like it’s the only thing you can do. Not to worry; Kazuha will save you before Scara can ruin your purity with his twisted fantasies.
They confront each other when the time feels right. Kazuha struggles to keep a smile plastered to his face for the sake of politeness, while Scara holds in his raging temper so that he can bear some semblance of cooperation. Neither of them is happy to hear that the other went through their stuff, but they force themselves to make up because a more pressing issue is at hand: their connection to you.
Kazuha says he’s your secret admirer. Scara says he’s in a relationship with you. There’s no way you’d ever date someone like Scara—Kazuha knows this for a fact. Yet he falters at the confidence in Scara’s tone. That can’t be the truth, right? Despite this, Kazuha still strikes up an offer: If they work together to get what they both want, they’ll be unstoppable. With Scara’s riches and his influence and Kazuha’s charisma and clever thinking, they can easily get their hands on you. Of course this means they’ll have to share, but it’s not a big deal when they’re already in so deep. They both know the other’s secret; now they’re swearing to keep it in the pursuit of having you all to themselves. And luckily Scara agrees to the deal, but that doesn’t give Kazuha a reason to lower his guard.
However despite how well they work together when it comes to planning the kidnapping and actually executing it, they both have their own reasons for wanting you. Scara wishes to make his relationship with you a reality—to toss aside the screen that once held him back and finally do all of the things he could only do in his dreams. Kazuha seeks to protect your fragile heart, lest you crumble under Scara’s intense way of doing things and cling to him for salvation. You can’t do those sorts of things with Scara; he won’t allow it. Your purity is meant for him and no one else.
But sharing is caring and some have to learn that the hard way. It definitely brings Kazuha and Scara closer together, even if neither of them will admit it. If they look past their desires, they can be friends. And soon enough they’ll have to accept this new friendship if they want to avoid any unnecessary complications.
However there are times when they’ll cooperate in order to do things with you. They’re a packaged deal you can’t get rid of.
#chit chat#yandere#yandere kazuha#yandere scaramouche#kazuscara roommates#ty for feeding me anon orz#i like the idea of them being friends on the surface#but beneath that they're willing to abandon the other in order to meet their desires#but when they come together they're a force to be reckoned with#aaah i could go on and on with this concept#but i don't want to ramble#ANYWAYS TY AGAIN ANON <3 YOUR BRAIN IS SO LARGE#🧸 anon
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Hi love, I adore your writing so much! And as you just asked for some ideas/concepts here’s mine for Jack Grealish from prompts list 2: fluff #11 where he’s asking her (she’s his best friend) to go for a walk cause there’s so much going on in his life and he just needs to talk. fluff #36, angst #31 and a happy ending please? Basically a Best friends to lovers thing as I’m a sap for that…thank you!! xx
Fluff #11; “I know it’s 2 in the morning but do you want to…”
Fluff #36; “because I fell for you, isn’t it obvious?”
hope I did this justice for you!
Fell for you
“Jesus god,” you grumbled with hands aimlessly palming across the mattress for the blaring sound of your phone from its place charging somewhere on the bed. Your next move is an elongated “Ahhhhh,” sound, fatigue still holding tightly onto your body in a way that seals your eyes shut even as you try to shut off the sound your phone was deafening your with. In a wakened state, you might’ve noticed that it was your ringtone that had interrupted your sleep. However as tired as you were you ruled it as your alarm right away and moved yourself into seated position with the duvet still wrapped tight around you and your eyes still shut.
You were suspended in that space between being asleep and being awake, still sitting up when the offensive sound came screaming through your phone once again.
This time, your eyes snapped open in fright and the fatigue-blurred letters of Jack Grealish’s name popped up across the top of your screen.
“How is it morning already?” You protest down the line, a heavy sigh passing your lips to follow. Jack’s chuckle can be heard through the line, “It’s not.” He replies simply, prompting you to pull your phone away from your ear to hold out in front if your face.
02:17am
“Then why on earth am I up?” You mumble, a question more posed to yourself than the man on the other end. “Wait, why are you up? And why are you calling so early?”
“I’m outside your door.”
“You’re what?!” You throw back your duvet and swing your legs over the side of the bed. You’ve hung up the phone already by the time you reach the front door at a tired shuffle. His hair is tousled when you see him, like he’s been running his hands through it over and over, you imagine that he has. He does that when he’s stressed. You have to squint against the street lights and his car headlights outside, still on as it sits running on the street. “Can we go somewhere?” He asks, his voice as desperate as his eyes look when he speaks, begging you to agree. Not that he would need to beg. You’d do anything for that man. Even if it did mean dragging yourself from your bed at 2 in the morning.
“Course.”
No question, no pressure. He loves that from you. He knows you’ll ask him later and when the time is right you’ll force him to tell you of course. Now is not that time yet and you’re nowhere near awake enough to do so much anyway. “Let me just grab my-“
“I have a hoodie in the car and your shoes in my boot.” He cuts in, tugging your arm gently out the door of your house. He knows you better than any other person in this world, so he knows full and well that there’s not much you are going to do in the way of protesting when you’re so soon out of sleep. He’d often teased with layers of worry deeper beneath that he genuinely worried for you living on your own. You open the door to people far too easily, and he will not fail to bring that up sometime tomorrow. For now, he steps into your doorway where you had stood moments before, grabs your keys from the cabinet and pulls the door closed behind him with a click of the latch locking behind him.
The cold paving stones beneath your feet make you shine in protest, shifting your weight between each one to ease the chill. In was in that cold that you look down and make the realisation, or rather come to remember the fact that you don’t have any pyjama bottoms on. “Jack!” You yelp, “I’m not wearing trousers!” You suddenly feel very exposed and rightly so, standing outside your home suddenly very awake in only a long claret and blue shirt that only extended down to the middle of your thighs. “Eh?” He whips around, “You what?”
It’s only now he really takes you in with rosy cheeks from embarrassment, your hair messed up from your sleep. His frantic eyes soften and his heart stops thundering in his chest finally. The sight of you there calms him. You’re there. Right there. His (y/n) is right there in front of him.
“What’s the rush, Jack? Is everything okay?”
Your gentle words and tired eyes bring him back to the ground, the flurry of his racing thoughts only now finally calmed. He often acts on impulse, but you are always able to slow his brain down a few paces. His sits heavily, "I know it's two am but...do you think we could go somewhere. My heads fuckin'... I don't even know." He dips back down to run that hand through his hair once again. His words stoke a bit of a worry in you, head tilted to the side in question. Jack doesn't tend to be the kind who gets himself panicked and all wound up like he has right now. That's more your half of the friendship. You did the worrying, he did the easygoing.
"It's okay, Jack. Of course. Come on then, let's go." You nod your head and he goes around the back of the car to get the shoes and socks he promised you. You very nearly choked up a lung when he presented you with a brand new Balenciaga box. "What the fuck, Jack?" You all but wheeze out, head whipping towards him climbing into the passenger seat.
"Got you a present 'cause I'm leaving soon." He shrugs with a jaw-dropping ease. You list open the lid and inside sit a pair of sliders that cost nearly £400. You physically gawp. "Oh my god."
"What?" Jack asks, drawing out of his parking spot on the street, "Heard you telling your mum you needed new sliders for the summer, do you not like 'em?"
His nerves would be clear in his voice if you hadn't been in such a ferocious level of shock. You're glad you weren't eating anything because it surely would have choked you to death. Of course you had seen Jack wearing brands like Balenciaga, Gucci, Versace and the likes, but you had never owned such an expensive piece of clothing. "I mean of course I love them, J but I meant from Primark or bloody amazon, you shouldn't have spent al that money on me." You protested, but Jack really pays it no mind. In fact, the suggestion that you don't deserve everything luxurious that this world has to offer offends him more than it does anything else. You should know that you deserve everything good that this world can give and he has the means to actually give that to you. He'd count himself an absolute fool not to.
"Gonna pretend you didn't say that." He mutters, eyes kept carefully on the empty road ahead of his car. Your eyebrows are furrowed, a part of you brain still very much trying to a) wake up and b) process the expensive of the gift he handed to you so casually. "Not arguing about it either." His voice cuts you off the second you open your mouth to speak, shutting down your protest before it even leaves you.
As the fatigue of your sleep wears off, your mind continues to be just as boggled as it had been the moment his name popped up on your screen at 2am, if not more boggled now.
"You're acting so weird, Jack. What the hell is going on with you today?" Your insistence is careful with your pressure. It's enough to try to open him up but not enough to make it sound like a confrontation. Neither you nor Jack like confrontation especially with each other. The words make him chew on his lip as he careens the large white range rover through a turn that leads up a gravel road that crunches beneath his tires. The stops when he's met with a with a large gate that prevents cars but a little slot for people to walk through. Jack leaves his door open when he leaves the car with a curtly mumbled "Stay here" as he does. He pushes open the gate with ease before he gets back in the car and follows the path up the hill further.
He stop abruptly in a very small gravel car park without any parking lines to abide and steps out, slamming his door behind him like he absolutely always does; you swear that man couldn't be quiet if his life depended on it. Which was another reason why you were so surprised by his silence. You clamber out after him with that same fear of falling flat on your face that always fills your mind each and every time you leave his car. But Jack is where he has been every time you step out the Range Rover since the first day he got it; standing by your door to hold your hand so you can jump out without a trip onto the gravel beneath. He shuts the door behind you and hands you a spare pair of his loose fitting track pants.
On an average day you might've teased the reason he hasn't worn them was because they wouldn't have squeezed the life out his legs. Today wasn't one of those days, so you slip them on without a word. Followed up by his way too big for you socks and the brand new black slides. Even wide awake, this confuses you to no end. Jack was never quiet and never elusive. He was boisterous, loud, open and confident.
The second you turn around, you realise why he brought you here.
The view of the stars, the sky completely clear. There wasn't a street lamp in sight. The moon provided the kind of spotlight hue that you kind of thought only existed in the enhancement of Hollywood movies. "Woah," you breathe, words stolen by its beauty.
"Yeah," Jack laughs, "Now you know how I feel every time I look at you."
You head turns to him so fast it sends your head spinning a little, or maybe that's just the shock of his words. You couldn't tell.
"What?"
He shrugs his shoulders, scuffing his feet along the gravel to meet up with where you stand. But he freezes before he gets the chance.
"Why are you wearing that?" He asks, a very sudden cold change in his tone that actually makes your body feel colder. "Wearing what? This?" You gesture to the claret and blue shirt you had thrown on in a haste to get to him standing at your front door a short while ago. You turn to see his unhappy scowl and the firm discontented cross of his strong arms. "Yeah that," he grumbles, "And where'd you even get it." He adds with a flare of his nostrils. He looks adorable angry like this, like he's trying so hard to look angry when his emotions lie truly elsewhere.
You look down at the shirt with furrowed brows, before you shift your shoulder forward, crane your neck and pull the material around to view the back as best you could. "What's wrong with it?" You ask finally, attempts to defy the natural state of your body failing to allow you to see your back.
"It's Ginny's." Jack states as if its the most obvious thing in the world. You just look at him bewildered. "And?"
He huffs as he takes a few more heavy steps up to you, looking like he had a lot of things to say without any way of being able to get them to coordinate from his brain to his lips. "Why do you have Ginny's shirt though?"
You breathe a little bit of laughter at him, shaking your head softly. "it was just a joke. I saw him after a match waiting for you so I jumped out at him and pretended to be a fan for a video and he signed it and gave to me as a joke. I just threw it on when you showed up at my door in the middle of the night. Wasn't exactly a fashion statement."
Jack still grunts in dissatisfaction at your answer, refusing to meet your eyes. "You have plenty of mine to wear though, don't need his." His argues in a disgruntled grumble. You raise and drop your arms down by your side with a sigh. He was really testing your patience now. "Hm, last time I checked you couldn't give me yours anymore because your ex didn't like it." You protest with a wag of your finger, making him turn his head downwards with something like a shudder running through him at the mention of her name. "Yeah well there's a reason she's my ex innit." He mutters under his breath.
"What the hell is the problem with you today Jack?" You exclaim, his eyes jolting to you in surprise. You don't often snap.
"First you show up at my door in the middle of the night and drag me out of my house and then you won't actually speak to me and now you're picking a fight about John M fucking Ginn?" You snap, the anger and confusion he had stirred up showing in your emphatic hand gestures that only come out when you're telling him a passionate story or going off your head at him. "He's your best mate, why would that even bother you?!"
"I'm sorry, I-"
"I'm not done, Jack!" You yell, holding out a hand. "You haven't even spoken to me all week. I found out you made the England call up on fucking twitter Jack, twitter! And your mum told me about you dumping your girl and I can't even get through to you and now you're buying me gifts and bringing me here? I don't know if I'm coming or going here Jack, you have to give me something. We're meant to be friends." You voice breaks on the last syllable and a lump forms in Jack's throat that he can't just swallow away. Any pain, any hurt and any slight sadness of emotion that appears in you shatters his heart. He thought that was a normal reaction until two weeks ago when he realised it only happens to him when its your upset he witnesses.
"I'm sorry." He says, his voice thick and wavering with the same level of emotion. "I really, really am." He stands right in front of you now, so close you're basically chest to chest, faces merely inches apart.
"And I'm scared." He admits, sending a pang through your already aching heart. "Scared because I'm leaving and I can't take you with me." His words tickle your lips as they leave his, clouds of air puffing above the two of you as his hot breath meets the cold night air. "You've done it before, J. It'll be fine." You soothe, hands gently raising to reach up and brush the hair out of his face. His let's forth a content sigh of relief at the feeling of your touch. "That was before though." He confesses with a slight shrug. He watches that furrow sow itself back into your brows.
"Before what?"
"Dance with me?" He suggests, his arms finding their way around you with ease, much less fumbley than you remember from your high school prom. Your head tilts in that adorable confused way that makes a grin form on his cold lips.
"Why?" You query, eyes slightly narrowed in suspicion. He laughs softly. "Because the music is slow and the sky is gorgeous and because I love you."
Before you get the chance to recognise, process or even understand what he said, he's swaying you around the gravel under the stars.
"Because you what?" You squeak, your eyes desperately searching his as you look for any reason this might be some kind of a joke or one of pranks that makes you want to throttle him. He just smiles at you with those crinkled eyes and the love shining right there in his eyes for you to see. Your stomach flutters like the teenager you were when you fell in love with him. His lips dip down to capture yours in the best kiss that your being has ever felt, his hands ringing your hair, stroking down over your cheeks with those warm hands of his.
"Because I've fell for you, isn't it obvious?"
#jack grealish imagines#jack grealish imagine#jack grealish x reader#jack grealish prompt#jack grealish blurb#england national team imagine#england national team#footballer fics#football fics
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Alrighty for Bakugou fluff, can I request a scenario where he wakes up but he's still REALLY sleepy so he actually thinks he's still dreaming so he goes downstairs for breakfast in the dorms, kisses the reader and hugs them while getting food, just the two of them. Only the reality is he never confessed to his crush yet, the bakusquad is there and he burns his tongue on his coffee thus waking up and grasping what he just did. EMBARRASSMENT GALORE
LUCID DREAMING
— bakugou katsuki was one of the few people who experienced very lucid, very life-like dreams. usually, he was pretty good at telling when he was dreaming and when he was awake. usually.
PAIRING: Bakugou Katsuki x Reader
WORD COUNT: 1,099
WARNINGS: second hand embarrassment, bakugou swearing, distressed denki noises
A/N: HELLO THIS WAS THE FUCKING FUNNIEST THING OF MY ENTIRE LIFE i seriously could not stop giggling over this for a solid 5 minutes !! anon i am BEGGING YOU turn on your location, you deserve all the recognition for this HILARIOUS prompt nhfdsjklhgkjfds
You were in the kitchen, preparing another round of coffee for the squad. It was Sunday and you all agreed to do nothing except indulge in caffeine and watch shitty movies with shitty snacks. Bakugou had yet to weigh his opinion on the matter, but considering he was still in bed - at the righteous hour of 8am, no less - he had waived his right to an opinion.
“Think I should make Bakugou one?” you called out.
The resounding “NO!” from every single person stopped you in your tracks.
“Bakubro is really particular about how he likes his coffee,” Kirishima explained, leaning back over the couch to look at you. “It’s so manly.”
“You mean insane!” Kaminari corrected, voice high in distress. “Have you actually seen how he makes it?”
“It’s a crime against coffee,” Shinsou added sleepily. “He doesn’t even use real coffee.”
“Jokes on you, buddy, but Y/N isn’t using real coffee, either,” Sero teased.
“Y/N doesn’t burn the shit out of it, though,” Shinsou shrugged. “Speaking of which, can you hurry up? I’m gonna pass out over here.”
“Be grateful!” Mina snapped, lobbing a pillow in Shinsou’s direction. “Y/N, don’t make his anymore! He doesn’t deserve it!”
“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll take that back right now, Pinky,” Shinsou snapped.
You laughed at the squad’s banter, tuning it out as you continued to prepare coffee for everyone. Shinsou included, since you didn’t have a death wish. Excluding Bakugou, since Kirishima was right. He was picky when it came to what he put in his body. You doubt he would appreciate the gesture if you fucked up his first coffee of the day.
Speaking of the blasty boy, he finally made his appearance. You’d never seen him look so exhausted, you were actually kind of concerned about him. He was always the first one awake, banging on your door to drag you down for morning training. Sometimes he would try Kirishima, and he knew better than to try getting Kaminari up early. Shinsou was a lost cause. Having him practically drag his feet across the room was a sight you never thought you’d ever see.
He paid the rest of the squad zero attention as he made his way into the kitchen with you. “Good morning, Bakugou,” you greeted, though even to your own ears it sounded like a question. “Did you... sleep well?”
He grumbled as he dragged himself over to you and— wait, what!? You flushed red instantly as he slung an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. You were compliant since you didn’t know what was going on. Why was he—
Your brain shut down when he planted a sleepy, sweet kiss to your cheek and said, in a gravelly voice, “mornin’ babe.”
He pulled away as if everything was fine, as if kissing you like you were a couple was a normal thing to do. Sure, you might have harboured a secret crush on the guy, but you were friends first! He never showed any indication of liking you back, so you never pursued anything. So... what the fuck!?
Should you say something? Was this a thing that was going to happen now? You wouldn’t exactly be unhappy if that were the case, but... it wasn’t supposed to work like that!
The rest of the squad looked on in stunned silence. Of course, they’d seen.
(Unbeknownst to you, the squad had managed to wrangle some of Bakugou’s more personal feelings from him, several months back. It had taken a lot of bribing, and he only ever said it once. That Bakugou Katsuki had a crush on you. They’d all been sworn to secrecy, lest he turn to villainy to murder all their asses.)
No one knew what to say. No one dared break the silence. It was so surreal, it felt almost dream-like in the absurdity of it all.
You just watched as he milled about in the kitchen, making his famous shitty coffee with nothing but boiling water. You’re sure he forgot to add something cooling. Before you could warn him about scalding his entire tongue off, he tipped his head back and took the most daring chug of boiling bean juice you had even seen.
It ended up exactly how you’d imagine it would. He sputtered it all out with a series of curses, nearly throwing the offending mug across the room.
And then he froze. Abruptly, as if he hadn’t even been aware of his surroundings, he looked around to see the squad all leaning off the edge of the couches, to see you standing there entirely red faced.
His face went deathly white for a second before all the blood came rushing back, his face flushing even redder than yours in undeniable embarrassment. “Holy fuck, I’m awake.” He sounded so mortified, wide eyes flying to you and then locking onto your friends.
The silence lasted exactly three more seconds before Kaminari burst out laughing. “So bold, Kacchan!”
“That was so freaking manly!” Kirishima praised with a tear of pride.
“It’s about time Bakubabe made a move,” Mina squealed with excitement.
“Bakugou really is an all or nothing guy, huh,” Sero nodded, vaguely impressed.
“I’m never going to get my fucking coffee,” Shinsou groaned, curling up on the couch and burying his face into the cushions. Through some other worldly powers, he was out like a light, fast asleep despite the ruckus going on around him.
The squad roared with laughter. There was no stopping their whooping and hollering, both cheering and teasing Bakugou.
“Shut the hell up!” Bakugou shouted, hands sparking off. That just made the idiots laugh even louder. He felt embarrassed, he felt humiliated, and he wanted nothing more than to blast the smug faces off his dumbass friends but you were there, looking at him with a mix of your own embarrassment, confusion and concern. It was enough to pull him back from his murderous rampage.
“Bakugou...” you started, but he interrupted you.
“Don’t make a big deal out of it, Y/N. I thought I was dreaming.”
Wrong choice of words. Your face turned sweet, your smile like sunshine. “Aw, you dream of me? Bakugou, that’s so sweet!”
If it were even possible, he went redder in the face. Your group of friends laughed even louder.
Feeling bold, you decided to tease Bakugou just a little more. You stepped up close to him, mimicking his moves on you earlier, placing a chaste kiss to his cheek. “You could have just said you wanted a kiss, Kacchan.”
#bakugou katsuki#katsuki bakugou#bakugo katsuki#katsuki bakugo#bakugou#katsuki#bakugo#kacchan#bnha x reader#mha x reader#bakugou katsuki x reader#katsuki bakugou x reader#bakugo katsuki x reader#katsuki bakugo x reader#bakugou x reader#katsuki x reader#bakugo x reader#kacchan x reader#my hero academia#boku no hero academia#fanfiction#bnha fanfiction#mha fanfiction#handsoffmyfriends#bakusquad#anon#ask#bnha#mha
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Kara Danvers x Reader : Behave
Summary: Only good girls get rewarded.
Genre: 18+ Smut Includes(d/s dynamic, choking, edging, spanking, bondage, temperature play, overstimulation)
Request: Yes / No
Word Count: 3,104
* * * * * *
Blazing blue eyes watch you from across the apartment. A deep dent rests between light brown eyebrows as pink lips press together.
This is the third time you’ve bent over to show your ass to Winn and James and there’s no way they weren’t looking with the way you’re dressed tonight. That plus your shameless flirting with Lena.
Kara trusts that none of them will do anything but that is far beyond the point.
When you raise up you make direct eye contact with your girlfriend and she catches the glint in your eyes. She’s seen it a million times and knows exactly what it means, that doesn’t change a thing for her.
The second you step away from your shared group of friends into J’onn’s dining room, she’s grabbing your hand and pinning you to the wall around the corner. Her thumb and fingers press into either sides of your neck, the palm of her hand against your throat. When you swallow you can feel the slight pressure of her palm.
“You are testing my patience little one.” She speaks in a lustfully menacing tone that sends a shiver down your back straight to your core.
The way you raise your head and look down at the blonde could be taken as a challenge from anybody else but Kara knows it’s your way of exposing yourself to her, in the only way you can at the moment. More of your neck is laid bare before her eyes, a just barely noticeable vein there that Kara stares at, she could just lean forward and leave a perfect mark right there. You’d walk away from here with everyone knowing you’re hers.
“I’m sorry, did I do something wrong?” You feign innocence.
With the way she narrows her eyes you just barely fear that she’s going to hit you with her laser eyes.
Her jaw clenches and you swear you can hear it click.“ You do a lot of cute things, but playing dumb isn’t one of them.” Kara keeps her voice low which just adds to the faint throb between your legs that you’ve been feeling since you saw her putting on your favorite strap earlier.“ If you behave for the rest of the night, you can get the reward I had planned for you after your punishment.”
Knowing that your girlfriend will hold true to her words you nod. And you do in fact behave for the remainder of the night.
You’d gotten the exact reaction you wanted from her so you have no reason to dig a deeper hole, even though there are times where you like to push the limits.
By the time everyone is heading out, your anticipation has reached its peak. You can barely keep your expression neutral as you hug J’onn goodnight and walk out with Kara. The blonde wastes no time securing you in her arms and shooting across the sky to her apartment.
In a matter of seconds, she’s setting you down in the living room, her hands gripping your hips,“ go strip and wait for me.” The swat on your ass is hardly enough to even warm you up for what’s to come but it does make you jump a little.
“Yes ma’am,” you say teasingly, making sure to look back at her when you pull your bottom lip between your teeth.
Inside the bedroom you make quick work of shedding all your clothes off, neatly folding them and setting them on the dresser, before placing yourself on the edge of the bed.
There isn’t a single noise that gives way to what she could be doing and it slightly worries you. However you trust Kara. This is far from the first time something like this has happened so you know she won’t hurt you or do anything you’re uncomfortable with.
When she finally steps into the room she comes to stand in front of you. With a teasing slowness, she removes each article of clothing without taking her eyes off of you at all. You swallow at the sight of her completely bare in front of you.
The number of nights you’d gotten off on just the sight of her and your own touch plays in the back of your head, only fueling the flames that are growing inside of you.
Reaching out, Kara curls a finger under your chin,“ what’s our word little one?”
“Jumanji.”
Despite the intensity of the situation, a smile cracks on both of your faces. Your safe word never fails to amuse you both. It was oddly fitting when you’d chosen it, both of you being movie buffs, also what better phrase to use to stop something you can’t handle or don’t want happening.
The smile wipes from her face quickly.“ Good girl,” she stands up straight,“ lay back and put your hands over your head.”
You do as she says, scooting up the bed and crossing your arms at the wrists above your head. Patience chips away as you wait for her but you remain silent, there’s no need to worsen your punishment. What it’ll be tonight you don’t know but Kara never disappoints.
Your beautiful girlfriend returns from her trip to the closet with an all too familiar cloth in her hand. Made from the same fabric that her cape is, makes this particular cloth perfect for the current situation. Bullets couldn’t pierce her cape so you both know there’s no way you’re getting out of it when it’s tied perfectly around your wrists.
Ever loving, Kara tugs on the perfect bow and glances down at you,“ too tight?” You shake your head in response.
It truly is a sight to see the woman throw her legs over your body, sitting her ass back on your thighs as she runs her hands up your sides.“ I’m proud of you for behaving,” she speaks softly,“ but I can’t disregard how you acted at the beginning of the night little one.”
She doesn’t miss the way your breath seems to hitch when her fingers brush under your breasts.“ You gonna be a good girl for the rest of the night?”
“Yes.”
“I know.” Dragging her nails down your side ever so slightly, she raises up enough to spin you around.
Her chosen punishment is a spanking, made incredibly clear when her hand lands on your ass, much harder than it had earlier. The shock of the first hit always sends you pressing into the bed, a near silent hiss slipping through your teeth.
Each hit gets progressively harder and makes you all the more aroused. The magic number is twenty but you can feel the slick coating your thighs at ten.
“Oh you’re enjoying this aren’t you?” She pauses,“ you love when I mark this little ass up don’t you?” The next smack tells you she expects a reply.
A sigh of yes falls from your lips, the struggle of not squeezing your thighs together growing by the second.
She tsks,“ but this is supposed to be a punishment baby.” Before you can even reply she spanks you harder than she has all night. A mix between a cry and a moan leaving your lips.
The light throb on your backside is welcomed as it accompanies a wave of arousal.
But you know, as pleasuring as you find this, it won’t be enough to douse the fire in your belly.
When she delivers the final smack you swear you can feel it all over. It’s possible she put a little more power behind that one, enough so that you never forget but not enough to truly hurt you. Letting you calm down, she straddles your back, hands slipping around to your front. The instant her fingers pinch your nipples you know the break is over. It never lasts long.
Just as she had before, she turns you over. You can now feel her core against your abdomen. Her slightest movement spreads her slick across your stomach along with a light brush from the harness of the strap. The thought alone of her being so turned on is enough to make you moan, the sound starting deep in your throat.
Soft fingers brush your now pert nipples, one of the appendages replaced by the warmth of her mouth. Her tongue swirls around your nipple, teeth gently biting into it, tugging up to leave a tingling sensation.
You swear you were about to say something, possibly ask that she speed up just a little, but the words are snatched from you mouth and brain at the suddenly cold feeling on your had been warm breasts.
A glance down shows her mouth still wrapped around you which draws the conclusion that she most certainly just used her ice breath on you.
It’s an odd sensation at first, completely out of left field, but she repeats it. The cold goes away, she warms you up, and the cold comes back. You can feel the goosebumps rising across your skin as you arch up into her.
Kara places one featherlight kiss on your abused nipple before moving to the other. More than anything you wish to thread your fingers into those golden curls and the inability to do so frustrates you.
Growling lowly makes blue eyes flick up to you, a brow quirking in curiosity.
She pulls her mouth from you with a quiet pop,“ getting impatient are we?” Puckering her lips, she blows down on your breast, cold air bursting over your nipple.
“Please let me touch you.” You beg, for the first time tonight.
Her head tilts, fingers running down your jaw,“ you think you deserve to touch me little one?” You nod frantically. You need to touch her. For a split second she looks like she’ll let you, only to shake her head,“ not yet.”
With still cold lips, she kisses your neck. Your heated skin clashes with the temperature of her lips and your toes curl with yet another shiver.
“Kara…” you groan when those kisses press to your hip bones and pelvis. Just a few inches south and she’ll be exactly where you need her to be, where you crave her touch.
Instead of her mouth though, you feel the digits of her fingers run through your folds.“ Oh you’re absolutely soaked baby.” She whispers against your pelvis, breath no longer cold.
Collecting your juices on her fingers, she trails them up your folds to your clit, light circles drawing around the bundle of nerves. Your hands clench into fists above your head, hips pushing up in search of more friction. If you weren’t experiencing such pleasure you’d frown at how easily she allows you to get it.
Her fingers press tighter circles into you, loving the occasional throb she feels, before she moves them back down to your entrance. With ease she slips both digits inside of you, dragging them across your walls and expertly curling against that perfect little spot in you.
You say her name like it’s a prayer and her need to keep hearing it drives her to finally wrap her lips around your clit. However you aren’t expecting her mouth to be cold again.
“Oh fuck,” you sigh, body unsure whether to run from the sensation or embrace it. Your back arches into the bed, running from it, while your hips jolt up in search of more.
She swirls her tongue and curls her fingers like she was put on this earth for the sole purpose of pleasing you. Your moans bounce off the walls and Kara knows her neighbors can hear but she doesn’t care one bit, not when silencing you means stopping. You taste like honey and Kara laps at everything you have to offer like it’ll save her.
The coil in your belly wounds tighter and tighter. Kara can feel how close you are, your walls fluttering around her fingers, clit throbbing more with each lick. Just when she feels you about to let go she pulls away.
“Kara!” You whine, body slumping into the bed dejectedly as frustration runs over you.
“It’s only what you deserve little one.” A teasing smirk forms on her lips as she bathes in how needy you are for her. She’d love to say this is only part of your punishment but she’d have done it anyway. It’ll be worth it in the end and she knows that, almost better than you do.
Pushing your legs even further apart, she kneels between them, blue eyes taking in the mess you made of the sheets. Gods if she didn’t already have plans she’d eat you like you were her last meal, cause there’s nothing better than you coming on her tongue.
“Kara,” the softness of your voice draws her eyes up. Her eyes widen a little at the look in yours, she isn’t sure she’s ever seen it.“ Please fuck me.” You beg for it so sweetly that she couldn’t say no even if she wanted to. Those eyes reveal your need for it even more than mess between your legs does.
Moving up to hover over you, she raises a hand to cup your cheek, and pull you into a kiss. Your lips mold together perfectly. The taste of yourself on her tongue as she slips it into your mouth elicits another moan and your, now free, hands rests on her back, nails lightly scratching the skin there.
The hand on your cheek slips down your body, smoothing over your breast and ribs and then away. Tracing the tip of the dildo through your folds, deliberately running it against your clit, she covers it in your slick, before thrusting into you.
She gives you a second, a literal second, to adjust before taking you with a brutal speed. The nails on her back dig in harder, nowhere near breaking skin. Your legs wrap around her hips, bringing her closer to you.
Every moan and gasp that slips from your lips travels straight to her ear and only fuels her ministrations. But she can’t help but feel like it’s not enough. Her head leans down to bury her face into your neck, seconds later she bites and sucks marks into your skin.
You could feel that flame that had been inside of you, licking every inch of your skin. The toy drags across your walls perfectly and every angled thrust causes it to hit your gspot.
If she weren’t a kryptonian you’d swear that her superpower was fucking you so perfectly.
Feeling you close again, Kara snakes a hand between the two of you, fingers wrapping around your throat. She just leaves it there for a moment, the anticipation enough to build you to that perfect point. Just when you arrive, she applies the slightest bit of pressure to the sides of your neck.
A whimper falls from your lips, so pathetic that if it weren’t Kara causing it embarrassment would’ve killed you. Your eyes screw shut, lip getting trapped between your teeth. With how hard you’re biting it she knows you're fighting hard not to come without permission and you’d already received your punishment.
“Come for me little one.” She whispers against the shell of your ear.
Your legs tighten even harder around her and she slows her thrusts. She feels the pressure of your nails on her back increase and it drives her mad. There will never be a sight more beautiful than watching you come undone.
Her hand unwraps from your throat and you breathe easier, chest heaving from your orgasm and lack of air.
When she sits back on her calves, still softly rocking into you, the purpose for her trip to the bathroom is revealed. Two vibes seemingly appear in her hand out of thin air. She clicks one on, slipping it behind the harness to no doubt rest against her clit based on the moan she releases, and the other, she sends it to its highest setting and presses it to your swelling clit.
The instant vibrations makes you throw your head back into the pillows, fingers now clenching the bed sheets as your back arches.
Just when you thought it couldn’t get any more intense, she sets an even more brutal pace than before. Her hips slam into you at an ungodly speed, going deeper than she had before.
You know the vibe plus her thrusts are going to send you over the edge long before she does and she’s hoping for it.
Pressing the vibe even closer to your clit pushes you over. It seems as though your body adopts the vibration of the little toy. Your thighs quiver as you come but she doesn’t stop.
With the next one, you feel as your juices nearly explode from you, soaking Kara and the bedsheets. A loud cry leaves your lips as your fingers wrap around the wrist of Kara’s hand holding the vibe.
“Please, I can’t-” breathless words spill from your lips and Kara clicks the vibe off, stilling her hips and removing the vibe away from her own swollen bud.
Blue eyes search your form as you breathe laboriously. Her hands rest at your hips, gently rubbing from them up to your sides in a soothing manner.
It takes a long minute for you to finally breathe evenly, your chest now rising and falling in a less concerning way.
Kara slips the dildo from you, your pussy clenching around nothing at the now empty feeling. She leans down to kiss your thigh,“ you did so well little one,” her lips ghost over your skin,“ look how much you came for me?” Sitting back, she allows you to look down at the large damp spot on the sheets, you felt it on your thighs, but seeing it on hers and the sheets makes you realize just how hard you truly came.
“Well fuck,” you mumble, head falling back against the pillows,“ this is my favorite set.” Both of you chuckle at the little joke.
Having tossed the toys aside, your girlfriend moves to rest beside you, her elbow allowing her to prop her head on her hand.“ Are you okay?” She asks softly, combing her fingers through your unruly mane.
You nod, kissing the palm of her hand when it lays against your cheek to back up your words.
“Okay,” her thumb strokes your cheek,“ I’ll run a bath.”
She rolls out of bed and your head lolls to the other side to watch her naked form head to the bathroom.“ If this is what I get for misbehaving,” your words make her stop at the door, gaze catching yours over her shoulder,“ I might have to do it more often.”
* * * * * *
Taglist: @owloftheshadows @zhellas
#kara danvers#kara danvers imagine#kara danvers fluff#kara danvers smut#kara danvers x reader#dcu#dcu imagine#dcu x reader#reader insert
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