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sadesluvr · 6 months

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Opposites Attract

You’re a self-obsessed sorority girl. He’s an enigmatic film freak. What more is there to say? (Mickey Altieri x Reader)

A/N: My first full Mickey fic! It’s loosely based off of my headcanons (linked HERE), but ofc it's not necessary to read first :) I LOVE him and this has been in the works for a while, so I hope you enjoy it! He is Ghostface in this, but it's only alluded to…

Word count: 2.7K

Tags: SMUT / Enemies to lovers / Oral sex, fem receiving / Flirting + Sexual tension / Safe sex! / Doggystyle / Spanking / Light choking + Asphyxiation / Allusions to murder / Relationship goals, kinda

You and Mickey Altieri couldn’t have been more different. He was a ‘Tarantino obsessed film freak’ from a seemingly regular (if not a little shady) background with a small group of friends. You, on the other hand, were a peppy architecture student; one of the top girls in your sorority from a rich family with a lawyer father.

In theory, nothing about the two of you should work - Mickey thought that ‘people like you’ were phoney and self-obsessed, whilst guys like Mickey were essentially ‘nothing but trouble’. Still, it didn’t stop the two of you from being ‘frenemies’, even to the point of culminating in a secret relationship.

Even though you absolutely despised each other, there was something intoxicating about how you’d bicker; how Mickey would roll his eyes and smirk whilst you would get frustrated and brush him off, annoyed yet giddy on how you got under each other's skin.

This was one of those times.

You’d smuggled Mickey into your room as the two of you were off to join your respective friends at a party. He claimed he ‘hated’ being around posters of boy bands and unnecessary anthropomorphic stuffed toys, but there was something in his intense, greedy stare as he watched you preen and accessorise that told you otherwise. Of course you knew he wanted you. You wanted him too, but you refused to give him anymore gratification outside of that one night —

“Pink is so not your colour,” he scoffed, shaking his head as you fixed your bolero.

“Unfortunately for you, Mickey, I don’t care about your opinion,” you said sweetly, and you could hear him mutter under his breath. You always loved to get the last word.

“I prefer the baby blue,” he continued. “It brings out the pearls,”

You shrugged him off, fixing the string of beads around your neck. Everyone in Windsor knew that pearls were your signature accessory; the fragile beads sat elegantly around the base of your neck year round, as if you were a regular Jackie-O. Mickey always teased you for wearing them (like he did with practically everything else), but he couldn’t deny how beautiful they looked on you. There was certainly something to be said in the contrast of you; the ‘righteous, innocent’ being, just like your necklace signified, being with him, a guy with a deep, dark pastime. He wondered what the pretty jewels would look like covered in blood; not necessarily yours (at first), staining the priceless material for good so that they were forever soiled. Your daddy would probably flip.

Good. He hated lawyers.

“…Why do you need to wear pearls anyway?” Mickey said, his voice low as he got up from where he was sitting, stalking over to join you at your dresser. “This is a college mixer, not Breakfast at Tiffany’s,” he finished, eyes locked on yours through the mirror as he stood behind you, his hands placed firmly on your waist as his fingertips threatened to travel elsewhere, likely towards your ass.

“Because they’re pretty,” you said quickly, gathering yourself as you pushed him off slightly, spinning to face him as you leaned against the surface. “Daddy got them for me on my sixteenth birthday. I love him…” you finished wistfully.

“You love the things he gives you,”

“No. I love him,” you insisted, rolling your eyes as you clipped in your earrings. “He’s a very hardworking man, putting freaks and freeloaders like you in jail,” you said pointedly.

Mickey scoffed.

“I’m a freak now, hm?” he mused, leaning over you. He was tall, and you could feel his breath on your neck, lips grazing the sensitive skin ever so slightly. “Then why are you with me?”

“Obviously due to some kind of terrible head trauma,”

Mickey rolled his eyes for what felt like the billionth time that night, instead focusing his attention on your neck; his canines brushing against your collarbone as he nipped at you, his love bites turning into soft kisses. You fought your hardest not to fall apart under his touch as he pulled you into him, hands exploring your waist and thighs as you felt his hardening cock against your ass. His cologne; though likely nothing more than retail store bought, was intoxicating, and you forced yourself not to lose yourself into his touch. There was just something about him that was insatiable…

It certainly helped that he was a little dangerous.

Sighing, you pushed him off you to face him yet again, fixing your clothes as you flashed him a sultry look.

“How do I look?”

He paused, eyes raking you up and down.

“...Like a girl with a stick up her ass and a cock in her mou —“

“Don’t say that!” You cut him off, slapping his chest lightly before you picked up your bag.

“What?” He snorted. “That ‘Daddy’s Little Princess’ facade doesn’t fool me. You’re a slut,”

“I am not!”

“Are too,” he retorted, following you like a chihuahua. “Don’t you remember that night at the Halloween party? You were in that slutty little cat costume and you were very generous to me under the stairs —“

There was a distinct smugness in his voice, and it took you right back to the hazy-liquor induced moment; from the sloppy kiss that had united the two of you, to the cool metal of his belt on your hands as you undid his trousers, and the salty taste of his cum as he held your head to his base. A beautiful moment, yes, but one you’d agreed to never speak of again.

“And here you are hoping for round two,” you sighed sarcastically, pouting your lips and patting his cheeks affectionately. “Give it up Mickey, it’s never gonna happen,”

“Your call, Princess,” he shrugged, walking to your door and beginning to open it. “Just try not to go all ‘Single White Female’ on me when one of your little sorority sisters wants it more,”

You froze. You never considered yourself to be the stereotypical jealous girl, but as a spoiled only child you were definitely not used to sharing. Katie Lewman was one of the girls in your sorority who you knew had a definitive crush on Mickey, and had even gone as far as trying (and possibly succeeding) to hook up with him. You knew she couldn’t compare to you in the slightest, but Mickey was definitely a player and would sleep with someone if he pleased…Or to get under your skin.

Mickey’s smirk was visible from the corner of your eye, and you slowly pushed the door back in, making sure it was locked.

You frowned.

“I hate you, you know that?”

Your lips were on each other’s in an instant, with Mickey pulling you in hungrily by your neck, barely giving you any time to breathe.

“I know…” he grumbled, voice broken as he came up for air. His gaze was focused intently on your lips, and his beautiful eyes made contact with your own, taking a moment to ogle your body.“ ‘Drives me crazy…”

Your hands found the sides of his slender waist, drawing him in closer so that you could feel his wanting cock against the thin material of your dress. Given that he wasn’t the typical ‘submissive’ guy, you were surprised when he teased you back, beginning to stumble back towards your bed.

Still kissing, you landed on top of him, and he wasted no time in assuming his position above you, hands pinned to either side of your body as he held your lower half in place with your own. He stopped and cocked his head at you, admiring the way your chest heaved and your eyes were wide. Apparently he could still surprise you.

Good to know.

You propped yourself up on your elbows, watching as Mickey began to strip. It was undoubtedly a godly sight, but you hated the way he made your pussy ache and stomach flutter with the smallest of movements.

“Why do we keep doing this?” you whined, and he grinned, baring his teeth as he stalked over you, taking your jaw in between his hands as he angled your head to stare at him.

You always looked so pretty beneath him.

“I like the chase,” he uttered, and you began to make out once again, this time with you peeling off your bolero, and hiking up your dress so that it sat by your knees, unsure of how exactly he was going to take you. Mickey was a natural freak, and was always down to experiment when it came to sex…It was one of the many reasons why you liked him.

“Keep the dress on,” he whispered in your ear, nudging you so that you lay flat on your stomach. “Get that pretty ass in the air…” he finished, leaving a love bite on your neck before he pulled away, rubbing his hands along the curve of your spine, teasing you with what was to come.

SLAP! A red, stingy feeling ran through your lower half, legs peppering with goosebumps as the sensation settled in. Eyebrows furrowed, you gasped and turned to Mickey, who only gave you a shit-eating grin in response.

“Ass. Up.”

“You assho—“

SLAP!

“Ass. Up.” He repeated simply, staring at you knowingly. Glaring, you hiked your ass up in the air and he assumed the position behind you, pulling the material up over your thighs to rest on your waist. The thin material of your panties left your hot, aching cunt exposed to the cool air of the room, a sensation that was soon replaced with Mickey’s tongue.

He had quite literally buried his face in your ass; hands spreading your asscheeks apart as he delved into your folds, tongue lapping eagerly at your folds as he explored your pussy. You gasped, beginning to moan as you bunched the bedsheets up in your fists, subtly trying to fuck his face back, causing him to stick his face deeper into you.

You could practically see his smile from behind.

“Little Miss Sorority likes having her pussy eaten, hm? What would a girl like you know about giving?” he sneered, spreading your right cheek further and massaging the skin in his hands as the other remained firmly in position.

“S-Shut up —“ you whined, balancing yourself on one hand as you tried to pull him in, desperate for some release as he found your clit.

“Nuh-Uh, Princess,” he smirked, swatting your hand away. “You don’t get to touch me,”

You groaned and resumed your wringing of the sheets whilst Mickey revelled in your audible pleasure, adding to your stimulation as he stuck his middle and index finger inside you, beginning to move them in and out. Your juices coated him instantly, and he took a moment to lick them up, savouring the unique taste.

He had to have you.

Retracting his face from your privates, he smacked your ass again, admiring how it immediately warmed in his hands.

“…Why’d you stop?” you whined, pouting your lips.

“Because I’m gonna fuck you,” he responded, taking out his cock and stroking it languidly. It was just how you remembered; peachy with a good five and a half inches in length. “This is real life, Princess, we don’t always get everything we want…” he admonished, beginning to line himself up with your entrance. His tip teased your cunt, head smearing dots of precum along your lips, threatening to penetrate.

As much as you needed it, you couldn’t let him win.

“Speaking of not getting what we want…You better wrap your shit up,”

Mickey pulled away and scoffed, his shoulders slumping in annoyance.

“Come on, Princess…” he said knowingly. “You know it doesn’t feel the same…”

You hummed in amusement, beginning to push down your skirt and gather yourself together when you heard Mickey groan, a weight slowly lifting off of the bed as he made his way over to your dresser.

“You are such a spoiled brat,”

“Then come over here and teach me a lesson,”

He slid the condom on in a quick motion and made his way back over to the bed, grabbing your neck as he kissed you, arching your back in the process. The pressure pushed the pearls of your necklace deeper into your skin, a telling reminder of who you were. Social hierarchy may have technically been dead, but the Romeo and Juliet romance would forever thrive.

With a spank of your ass, he wasted no time in entering you from behind, barely giving you time to adjust. As he began to move, you heard him mumble to himself, hands holding onto your hips as he focused on daggering you, your tight walls stretching perfectly over his cock.

“What’d I say?” Mickey teased, another hand coming down on your ass as he watched your skin slap against his. “Doggystyle. Classic slutty position…What would Daddy think if he saw you now?”

“Fuck…” you whispered, grasping the edge of the bed as your legs tingled from the pressure and your back was being stretched out perfectly. Mickey always ran his mouth. Always. But he was so fucking good at it.

“M-Mick —-“

“That’s it, Princess. Say my name…I want the whole fucking house to hear—“ he growled, utterly feral at the way you moaned and whined for him, to the point of you being speechless. He ran his hands from the curve of your spine and up to the back of your neck, smirking to himself as he forced your face into the duvet, bringing your ass higher into the air.

His fingers played with your pearls, hooking them under his middle and index finger and tugging on them, causing the hard beads to press against your windpipe. He could’ve fucking choked you to death right there and then, and subsequently drowned himself in your screams and moans of pleasure and pain before indulging in your tight, wet cunt; burying himself to the hilt as he’d come. Sex with a condom just wasn’t the same.

The skin of your ass bounced against his thighs, every bit of contact driving him to thrust deeper, wanting to hit the deepest parts of your core. He let go of your neck, snickering to himself as he heard you let out a desperate gasp for air, and began to rub your pussy as he fucked into you.

“ ‘Can’t believe you’re this wet for me,” he sneered. “Hm, if only you could see yourself!To think, this is one of the rare times I don’t have my cam…”

Your cunt clenched at the idea, and he let out a throaty chuckle. Mickey carried his camcorder everywhere; and the idea of immortalising your illicit affair on a tape filled with your sleazy, steamy antics was enough to send you over the edge. If it ever got out, you’d probably be kicked out of the sorority…Maybe even college. Whilst your father would certainly hate the infamy, there was no doubt Mickey would love them fame.

Mickey groaned as you came around his cock, your walls tightening as he began to reach his own release. Desperately wishing it were your raw pussy, he shot a healthy load of cum into the condom. His grip on your ass tightened as you teased him, grinding your hips against his pelvis so that his slowly softening cock revelled in the wet, spongy sensation.

After a few moments he pulled out of you, placing his hands on his thighs as he admired your aching, satisfied cunt. Smirking, he slapped your ass a final time before collapsing next to you, stroking your pearls and kissing you. This one was slightly different - sloppy, yet gentle. Affectionate, even.

“Whaddya say we stay in tonight, hm?” Mickey perked up, staring at your ceiling. “I’m not going to a party with this —“ he looked down at himself, “— On my dick. How about we rent a movie and get pizza…?”

Cocking an eyebrow, you turned to look at the brunette curiously, propping yourself up on your elbows. It wasn’t explicit, but you knew that this was Mickey’s way of asking you for a date - And to be fair it didn’t even bother you. You were the life of the party, it was likely that it’d be boring without you.

“Sure,” you smirked. “But I am so not paying!”

#a sex tape fic with mickey? YEAH 👀#florence writes!!#mickey altieri x reader #mickey altieri smut #timothy olyphant #mickey altieri #ghostface x reader #ghostface smut #scream x reader

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thief-of-eggs · 2 months

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Some Sero headcanons because I don’t see enough of my boy in canon-

- He’s a skater kid, 100%. His quirk helps him pull off cooler tricks, and he’s been at it since he was young. He isn’t boastful about it though. In fact, hardly anyone at UA knows he skates at all

- He floats the most between friend groups and doesn’t truly consider himself a part of any of them. He hangs with whoever he feels like. He’s quiet enough that no one objects, but comical enough that they enjoy his company.

- He likes computers and tech stuff. If hero stuff didnt work out for him, he’d pursue support/gadget making.

- He’s an amazing listener, and knows more secrets than anyone in class 1A. It’s because he’s so unassuming and easy to talk to- everyone assumes they’re unique for going to him for someone to talk to. And he never divulges anyone’s secrets.

- He and Izuku have potential to become best friends, but both boys are too passive to really be the first to seek that friendship out. Sero admires Izuku though, and Izuku admires him right back.

- He took dance lessons and gymnastics as a kid, but stopped once his quirk developed further. They ended up helping him be more aware of his body and provided him with a good base to build upon, allowing him to easily learn how to flip and fly through the air

- He’s terrified of bugs. Absolutely terrified.

- He loves romantic comedies, and as such, the girls invite him to participate in movie nights. None of the other guys know (some would probably lose their shit if they did)

- He collects cool shaped rocks and shiny bits of gems and glass. He has a whole collection, though most of it’s at home.

- He loves plants. Again, most are left at home, but he truly has a green thumb. He finds peace in tending to greenery, in helping coax life from seeds and soil.

#fuck it- develops a character myself #sero hanta #mha #my hero #bnha #mha sero #hanta sero #boko no hero academia #sero headcanons #mha headcanons #bnha headcanons

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morsmordream · 10 months

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my random HP family headcanons that i firmly stand by

(not canon compliant)

creature blood was remarkably common in the older family lines that existed before modern-day laws. it is rather rare that these families produce true creatures themselves, even half-blooded creatures, but the blood can often manifest into family gifts. for example, creature blood is how the slytherin line have their ability to speak parseltongue.

the black family are world-renowned in various fields. they’ve produced countless scholars, and some of the finest duellists of each generation. but the family specialty, that everyone learns, is curse-breaking and it’s inverse. there’s a terrible item in the family vault that could kill you if you touch it? contact the blacks. you need an object enchanted to persuade someone into supporting a wizengamot bill? contact the blacks. expensive as their services may be, it’s always worth the money. customer satisfaction guaranteed.

the black family have held their reputation for dabbling in the darkest of arts, even black magic, since their very beginning. their family name comes from their reputation of practicing black magic. this is separate from dark magic, and is a dead art today. whilst books exist in the darkest corners of very few family’s vaults and libraries, the sacrifices required have deterred anyone who picked them up for centuries. a branch of black magic involves the summoning of beings from beyond our world, ‘demons’ as they are often referred to. the summoning of a shape-shifting demon, and subsequent procreation with, is a potential reason why only the black family have metamorphmagi in britain today- though this claim is unproven, and no longer proudly claimed by the family itself.

the malfoys have veela blood, especially these days. it was a rather scandalous affair when abraxas malfoy married a french witch, amelie bonnacord, who had been adopted into a notable pureblood family and happened to be a veela. the malfoys already had distant veela ancestry, making abraxas resistant to the veela allure. their children, lucius and lydia malfoy, were therefore half veela, and her grandchildren, including draco malfoy, a quarter veela. the veela allure seemed to work differently with men, and little was known about it as men born to those with veela blood was rare. the malfoys spend most holiday seasons in france, visiting family, and all speak fluent french.

the potter family never have been, and never should be seen as, a sparkling beacon for light magic. as necromancers by blood, no matter how much time passes since their amalgamation with the peverells, they naturally lean towards darker magic to facilitate practicing the art. not every potter has dabbled in their family gift, it’s not a requirement, but the ancient books in the family vault cannot be destroyed and will always return to the vault after a necromancer passes.

a few centuries into the past, the potter family migrated to india before a couple of branches returned to britain in the early 20th century. fleamont potter and his cousin, charlus potter, were the first potters to be born on british soil for centuries. fleamont potter married euphemia patil, a half-indian british witch, and had james potter. james potter, upon marrying lily evans, had harry potter- who was half indian.

the lupin family have a long history of naturally born werewolves, hence their family name. as time went on, and laws changed, werewolves born into the family would assimilate into packs instead of living as wizards with a dark secret. with time, fewer and fewer werewolves were born into the family, and the werewolf blood appeared dormant. remus lupin became a werewolf through an attack from fenrir greyback- the first werewolf in the family in several generations. his condition did not pass onto his son, but it is possible that remus being a werewolf may awaken the possibility of future werewolves in the lupin line in generations to come.

the weasleys hail from an old irish clan, one which they no longer practice the traditions and magic of- deeming them outdated in an age where they are deemed ‘blood traitors’ for their love and acceptance of muggleborns. the family magic is largely based around the elements, and is only really practiced by bill and charlie- though fred and george dabble in it from time to time. due to turning their backs on tradition, the weasley manor wards refused to grant entry to those in the family who did not practice their family magics- which is why they live in the burrow instead.

the weasleys fall from grace is infamous in pureblood circles. before the first war, they were actually a rather wealthy family. arthur weasley’s auror wage was enough to live off with two less children, and their vault was plentiful. molly added to their income by authoring books on household charms and tutoring pureblood daughters in etiquette. unfortunately, molly encouraged arthur to funnel money into the order of the phoenix to help with the war- they were not active participants, rather financial backers. by the war’s end, the family vault had been halved, they had two more children, and molly had quit authoring books to raise the children. she soon quit tutoring too, turning her back on other pureblood families due to her paranoia that anyone who hadn’t aided the order in the war were all dark and thus contributed somehow to her brothers deaths. soon after, arthur left the aurors and moved to head the misuse of muggle artifices office at molly’s insistence, due to her persistent paranoia- this time that something horrible would befall him as an auror. this caused another significant drop in the family’s finances, gaining them their reputation of being a poor family with more children than they can clothe.

the nott family are descended from viking clansmen in norway, and the majority of the family are still based there today. they’re very proud of this heritage, and every child born into the family is trained extensively in hand to hand combat from a young age. the nott family additional pre-schooling education also includes the language of old norse, nordic history, ancient runes, and runic magic. the england-based branch of the family add norwegian on to this as well.

the gaunt line, and subsequently the slytherin line, are only extinct in britain (the cursed child is not canon to me idc about delphini). a branch of the family, descended from one ominis gaunt, live on in france and have long abandoned their practices of inbreeding. the branch or branches of the family that remained on british soil rapidly squandered all that remained in their vaults by the turn of the 20th century, leading the family to financial and societal ruin with only their heritage and a few heirlooms remaining intact.

the lovegood family are rather notable as one of the few remaining seer lines in britain. pandora lovegood, upon marrying xenophilius ollivander, found her own seer ability passed down to her daughter luna. many overlook their seer lineage and focus more on the family’s eccentricity, forgetting that true seers rarely speak in plain language- they cannot always just speak the truth of what their visions show them, they must relay what they have seen in a way that makes others search for the answer. it’s not that hard to understand when you actually try it.

#harry potter #hp fandom #hp headcanon #dark harry potter #hp drabble #harry potter headcanon #harry potter drabble #harry potter fandom #the ancient and most noble house of black #draco malfoy #luna lovegood #house of gaunt #weasley family #remus lupin #theodore nott

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vaguely-concerned · 2 months

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Garashir ficlet, PG, context is that Garak is about to go do… Something on his own (specifics very much ????? but probably something foolhardy and secretive and doomed ala Improbable Cause) and Julian is Not Having It this time. Probably fits into some of the later seasons vibes-wise.

Julian said tightly: “My Kardasi might still need some work, but — ”

“Oh, no at all, considering how recently you started your studies your efforts are downright impressive, if, ah — charmingly archaic at times. If that’s to be laid at anyone’s feet it should be mine, probably, remind me to recommend you something written within the last few centuries sometime soon.”

Giving this attempt at diversion exactly as much consideration as it deserved, Julian completely ignored him and finished his own line of thought: “ — but at this point I have a veritable doctorate in Garakese. There’s something you’re not telling me.”

“Many things, I’m sure. If I’d known you had any interest in the optimal soil composition in which to grow Lovalan roses, I would have gladly shared my insight. All you had to do is ask, my dear. In the spirit of cross-cultural knowledge exchange, I always stand ready to chip in and do my par — ”

“Elim.”

That made Garak blink, just that split second too long, even as his face remained perfectly still and smiling around it. It was subtle enough that an unaugmented eye might not have caught it, but Julian’s did.

No longer bothering to hide his own desperation, Julian pressed on: “Elim, please. You’ve got me worried with this. I want to help in any way I can, and — and I don’t like to think about what might happen if I can’t.”

There was a moment of silence between them in which Julian could hear his own quickened breathing too loudly in his ears.

“That’s… characteristically kind of you, Doctor,” Garak said eventually, voice slightly hushed, like someone trying not to wake a sleeping child in another room. “But there is nothing to worry about. Really.”

“Brush me off if you really feel like you have to, but please, at least do me the courtesy of not going out of your way to insult my intelligence while you’re at it,” Julian snapped. “How stupid do you think I am? How do you expect me to just close my eyes and sit back like nothing’s wrong while you — ”

Garak sighed. “You’re right, that was unworthy of me. Please, put it down to old habit, not a lack of respect. Very well, then let me rephrase what I was trying to say slightly, in order to be more precise — whatever might or might not be going on, there’s absolutely nothing you can do, and I really would rather you stayed out of it. Knowing you to be safely out of the line of fire would provide me with infinitely more comfort and utility than anything you could actively do to help. Which, again, is nothing.”

“But — ”

“Julian. Please.”

Julian would have been thrown less off-balance if Garak had punched him square in the jaw. “Oh, that’s a dirty trick,” he said, unsteadily.

“And here I thought ‘turnabout is fair play’ was a guiding Human principle,” Garak said, and his tone was light but his eyes were soft and very sad. “I see I have been misinformed.”

The idea that Julian’s initial exposure to the Cardassian language leaves him speaking it like the equivalent of a Regency era novel or something to contemporary Cardassian ears in the beginning is a headcanon that is so dear to me

#garashir #star trek #star trek ds9 #ds9 #julian bashir #elim garak #my writing #god. I just started a new fic this evening. I've got 5 proper wips on the go now not just this style of fragment nonsense. help

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siriusblack-the-third · 1 year

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Hey I absolutely adore your Indian James headcanons can you do some for Harry too please <33

Okay this got too long so it's only Harry's first year at Hogwarts. At some point I might do the rest of his years but yeah. Here you go, i hope you like it :)

The first time Harry noticed his skin was darker than the people on Privet Drive was when he was four. The first time he noticed people sneered at him for it was when he was five and a half. He didn't understand it; why did they think the colour of his skin meant that he was inferior to them? He heard the words chee-chee and brownie thrown around like Dudley threw his food, and quietly pulled his shirt tighter around himself.

When Harry is eight, Dudley and his gang throw him in a ditch and throw dirt and soil on him till he's coughing and tears are running down his face. "You blend right into the mud," Piers laughs at him. The next day, the boy turns up to school with black skin. Harry sits in the corner and turns his face away, a secret grin playing on his lips.

He comes to Hogwarts, and there are so many colours. He is approached by Parvati on the second night, and she asks him if he's excited for Ganpati Chaturthi. He stares at her, and then says, "I'm sorry, but I don't know what that is." She gets offended, but they haltingly talk it out, awkward and stilted like most eleven year olds. When she realises that he's been kept from his heritage and his magic, she flies off the rails with anger. "That's it," she says, "we're friends now. No arguments."

Harry loves talking to Parvati. She's the one that tells him his father was from India. She's the one that tells him the names of his grandparents, that tells him of the importance of heritage in the magical world. They talk about religion and food and all sorts of things, and within two weeks Harry is asking her to teach him Marathi. It's hard at first; the grammar structure is more like French than English, the alphabet sequence is weird and complicated and has too many letters, but he keeps practising his svar and vyanjana and kana and matra. He will do this, he tells himself. (He doesn't tell Ron. He wants this for himself, he thinks. His family, his heritage. He wants to learn before he shares, and so he doesn't tell Ron. For now. He will, when he knows enough.)

Slowly, he starts talking to other Indian kids at Hogwarts. Padma, a seventh year Slytherin named Aarzoo who's Muslim and always has the prettiest hijabs, Gryffindor Kalyani from fourth year and Hufflepuff Rushabh from the third. Kalyani is from Maharashtra just like the Patil twins and Harry, Rushabh is from Gujarat and Aarzoo from Punjab. Harry finds it fascinating that India has so many different cultures and religions, and demands knowledge from them. Aarzoo laughs, and tells him he should have been with the 'Claws.

Harry disagrees. He was supposed to be in Slytherin, he knows, but he is in Gryffindor, where his family had been. His family had been Indian. He wants to know everything about it. If he couldn't have his parents, he would have that which had been a major part of his father's life. And so he reads and observes and studies and asks questions— hesitating at first in case they yell at him (Aunt Petunia hated questions and he feared these people would be the same), but slowly he asks more and more. He talks for hours with Kalyani and Rushabh, and they tell him about Garba and Dhol Tasha, Ganpati Chaturthi and Diwali, Eid and Gudi Padwa. They talk about the languages of India, and Harry immediately asks Aarzoo to teach him Urdu and Hindi. She laughs, and says he should focus on Marathi first. He pouts, but nods.

The Mirror of Erised shows him his father, and he can't take his eyes off. James Potter is a tall man, bulky frame covered in muscles and warm brown skin that seems to glow with happiness. His eyes are light brown, and the bold black lines drawn under them make the green specks stand out. He's dressed in what Harry knows is called a kurta, white and gold threads woven to form images of peacocks and elephants and other intricate designs. The next day, Harry asks Padma what she lines her eyes with, and she promptly hands him a little round metal box and a tiny wooden stick. "It's called kajal." She tells him the differences in pronunciation between Hindi and Marathi, and shows him how to apply it. Harry wears it everyday. It makes his eyes look bright, brighter than they already are, and he falls in love with it. Kalyani presses a kajal covered finger behind his ear every morning. "For good luck," she tells him, a grin playing on her pretty lips. Harry flushes, and smiles back shyly.

For Christmas, Aarzoo gives him perfume. It's chandan and mogra with hints of rose, she says, "and your grandfather made it. His name was Fleamont Henry Potter, and he was an exceptionally talented potioneer." Harry wears it religiously. Padma and Parvati band together and get him books on the Potter family and their historical importance, and he almost cries. Rushabh promises to teach him how to play Garba, and Kalyani gives him a cookbook for everyday Indian foods— breakfast and lunch and a few fancy stuff. Harry hugs it to his chest and thanks her with shining eyes. (he may have a bit of a crush on her. He can't help it— she's really smart, and she's pretty.)

Throughout the year, all of them work to introduce him to Indian food. At first, he thinks it will be easy. It is not. There is no such cuisine named Indian, Parvati tells him sternly. There is Punjabi, South Indian, Mughlai, Maharashtrian, North Indian, Bihari, Bengali and so many more. "The food in India changes with every twenty kilometres of travel," Aarzoo says when he mock complains about it. "It's never the same, and that's what makes it so special." He agrees.

The end of the year arrives, and Harry is still weak from his tryst down the trapdoor. When Ron and Hermione aren't present, his friends from home (because that's what India is, isn't it? His home. The home he never got to see, but is no less a part of him.) crowd around his hospital bed and have long talks with him, filled with banter and laughter. His Marathi is so much better now than it was in September, and he blushes when Kalyani compliments him on it. Rushabh winks at him, and Harry throws a pillow at him, feeling the blood rush to his cheeks at being caught out.

On the last day of school, he hugs Aarzoo around the waist and cries into her stomach. It's the first time he calls her "Aarzoo Tai", and she smiles widely, her own eyes dripping tears. "You will write," she says sternly, "okay? This might be the end of my Hogwarts years, but you are my little brother." He cries harder and nods, refuses to let go until the very last minute.

Harry goes back to Privet Drive with a heavy heart and a proud smile. He isn't inferior to the people there, he knows. He's special. He's Indian. He's James Potter's son, and he's going to live up to it.

#harry potter #desi harry potter #indian harry potter #desi james potter #desi potters #a fuck ton of OCs #the golden trio #harry potter headcanon #harry potter and the Philosopher's Stone #kid harry potter #headcanon #this got so long holy fuck

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wisteriagoesvroom · 7 months

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unnecessarily specific headcanons for college!AU f1 drivers, part 1

charles

- major: marine biology

- always asks you to save you a seat at the caf and watch his bag then disappears for an hour and a half. when you have to run to your next class you find him on the quad and he’s made four new friends and is playing football and is super apologetic that he forgot his bag. you only forgive him because he’s so charming

- dorm room is a bit of a disaster. sports and pop culture memorabilia everywhere with no particular regard for look or feel, it’s just vibes

- makes music in his free time tho is not above making people listen to his lofi mixes on ableton

- has a t shirt tan from always being out doing fieldwork

- doesn’t make a big deal about studying but is constantly on JSTOR and tops classes rankings all the time. knows the librarians on a first name basis. crosses over with max in a lecture and ends up debating him every lesson about some soil degradation minutiae that runs way beyond class time

- often forgets to call his family, but when they do speak, the conversations last hours

- flirts with anything that moves. knows he can cash in the relationship capital at some point but it’s not malicious, just strategic

- is close friends with Pierre. they constantly speak rapid fire French to each other and gossiping about people in front of them when they think nobody understands

- definitely gets caught by the local paper for climbing the historical bell tower on the last day before graduation

max

- major: geography

- writes a shockingly good first year thesis. so good that he fucks over the bell curve for everyone else and thus alienates most people

- blatantly abuses the open office hours to go argue with the profs about pedantic points from their seminars. they actually fear him and respect him in equal regard

- will talk about the geographies of war and peace in such unnecessary detail that most people at student parties know to avoid him so as not to get maxsplained at the fruit punch

- knows only how to make 5 dishes and keeps making the same few (one of them has potatoes and raisins in it. his dorm mates do not know how to feel).

- is all about efficiency. definitely abuses a 12-in-1 shampoo and this is a detail he will never live down even when everyone graduates. at one point he resorts to eating “prepacked food” until someone (probably his TA Daniel) points out that those are army rations that you normally heat up in like, the desert

- spots a statistical error in one of the papers in year end finals, and correctly challenges their prof wolff on it. prof wolff doesn’t like that one bit.

george

- major: finance

- head of student union and will not shut up about it

- won on a platform that de-emphasised radical politics in favour of “real hard hitting issues that affect our campus welfare” including alumni fundraising

- is in fact very close with the alumni. so much so they find him annoying but will still donate every time he asks them to open their pockets for better decor in the dorms or whatever

- will one day end up running the regional arm of a Fortune 500 investment bank, before he runs for political office because someone told him he couldn’t do it and he wanted to prove a point

- gets too drunk one day and ends up running half-clothed around the quad singing adele very off key. will pay a PR specialist a huge sum when he’s older to have this scrubbed from the internet

- his friend Alex teases him about his swottiness constantly. alex is not part of the student union but somehow everyone on campus knows him anyway and loves him

alex

- major: maths and statistics

- is such a nice dude that the cafeteria workers actually smuggle him secret (and more ethnic) food on the side

- will quietly put his hand up in a lecture and say “respectfully, this is why the combinatronics sequence should be…” and is usually right

- one of the very few members of the overwhelmingly white college campus who can dance, and meets his partner lily at the ballroom dance club or something. has waltzed with George when drunk too. (Alex leads. George is not really happy about it)

- keeps a running excel sheet of who wins the drinking games at the silverstone dorm, where the gang regularly meets

- got in on an aid scholarship and never brags about it. but everyone is aware and knows he is one of the best people ever.

- posts a lot of BeReals about his cat who he misses dearly

I could do more of these but i will stop for now because I don’t know who else wants to read these extremely self-indulgent brainrot thoughts 🤷🏻‍♀️

(i was self indulgent. part 2 here.)

#lestappen #galex #f1 rpf #f1 fanfic #just some thoughts rattling around my head like loose change #now that it’s winter break #it’s only day 1 #and here lies the proof that I am extremely mentally ill #delulu is the solulu #f1 imagine #charles leclerc #max verstappen #george russell #alex albon #3316 #cl16/mv33 #1633 #6623 #wiz.HCs

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prideofcelestia · 2 years

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❝ when you compliment his eyes ❞

« characters - lucifer, belphegor, solomon »

« gender neutral reader »

« headcanons »

« pairing - romantic »

LUCIFER

You cup his face and make his gaze meet yours. The crimson hues have charmed you. Your reflection dances in his irises before he checks his feelings and averts his gaze.

They say that eyes are the window to the soul and Lucifer says that he doesn't have one. How far from the truth indeed!

"Like grand rubies, your eyes shine brighter than the fiery sun.

Like a soft petal, they look at me with tenderness.

In the flame of your gaze, I can live and burn.

Only for my love to be reflected in your face."

The eyes in question widen at your confession before his face relaxes as per your wish. It's stupid to try and hide behind a facade now. You're his, aren't you? It's only fair that he offers himself to you too. Especially his devoted gaze that only lingers on you~

BELPHEGOR

"In the sleepy depths, stars twinkle,

Touched by the soothing aura of periwinkle.

A dreamscape of vivid emotion;

The mischiveous gaze that requests devotion."

Despite being the owner of beautiful amethyst eyes, you can seldom look into them because he likes to keep them closed in slumber. At your compliment, they widen in surprise and childlike wonder before his lips curve up in a smile and he puts his cheek against your hand. If you cup his face, he'll get close to you so that you can see the entire galaxy in the depths of his eyes.

Sometimes you question if Belphegor is real or a dream. More often, you think if the imagery you witness in his presence is tangible or if your mind is in a limbo created by the Avatar of Sloth. Either way, it's beautiful in a way that no mortal should be allowed to behold. No mortal other than you for you're the beloved of the one who commands the stars in your sky.

SOLOMON

"The chocolate in your gaze makes me melt.

The curiosity makes your ingenuity felt.

Fresh as tender soil after bountiful rain;

Amidst the chaos, you keep me sane."

He shuts his beautiful brown eyes at your word as a broad smile plays on his lips. When they open again to fix on you, there's genuine adoration in them. The softness of his gaze showers you in all the love of the world. It holds a promise to pluck stars from the sky and decorate your path with them. They assure you, or rather threaten you that if you stay his, he'll feed you his cooking soon while his eyes will memorise your reaction to it.

His eyes hold secrets that you're safer not knowing but they can hardly contain excitement on seeing you so you're the only one caoable of reading him to some extent. He promises that his eyes will be the first object you behold when you wake up in the morning for the rest of your life if you give him the chance to call you his.

#obey me #obey me x reader #gender neutral reader #obey me x mc #gender neutral mc #obey me!#obey me headcanons #obey me lucifer #obey me solomon #x mc #x reader #x you #obey me fluff #shion script #obey me shall we date #obey me one master to rule them all #obey me belphegor

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violettduchess · 11 months

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A/N: Cyran and Gilbert tied for second place in my poll. I was originally going to put them together in one headcanon but the styles were too different and it felt very disjointed, so they each get their own little fic.

Suitor: Gilbert, prompt: strawberry

An entry for Aqua and my Summer Days Sultry Nights CCC

WC: 854

Oh how excited you are, running through the dark stone halls of Obsidian, your treasure cupped in your hands. An angel on a mission, flying on invisible wings. Up the winding staircase you go, heart hammering, breathless with anticipation at showing him your miracle.

You burst through the dark Mahogany doors of his study. He’s at his desk, black quill in hand. You can tell by his posture he’s been here for hours: the tired roundness of his shoulders, the lax lay of his left hand beside the parchment he's perusing. The sound of your entrance turns his head and the sight of you is like the warmth of a sunbeam through glass on a cold winter’s day. He sets his quill aside without a second glance, holding out his arms in invitation.

“My Häschen comes bearing gifts,” he murmurs as you slide onto his lap, hands still cupped protectively. He anchors you against his body with one arm, bowing his upper body to rest his forehead against your shoulder, breathing in your scent like it’s as essential to him as oxygen.

“Look, Gil.” Although he could stay curled against you for eternity, he raises his head to look down at what you have brought him. Slowly you open your hands to reveal the riches you’re holding: A single, large, perfect strawberry. It still glistens from the water you washed it with, its size and ruby red color speaking volumes about the abundance of flavor it carries. He also knows the other reason you are smiling so brightly.

“It…..is from here?” You nod eagerly. You have been experimenting with gardening, working hard to try and find a way to get crops to grow in the arid Obsidian climate. How many nights has he come to bed to find you asleep, surrounded by botanical treatises and guides and lexica. Determination drove you and now you have managed to unlock the soil’s secret to provision. At least for strawberries.

“For you.” You hold it up in offering but he tilts his head. “Have you tried any yet?” Your silence confirms his suspicion. He reaches for the precious fruit, plucking it from your palm with deft fingers. “Seeing as how this is the first one, I believe the one who devoted so much time to its care should be the first to taste, oder?”

His eye is an even richer red than the strawberry and all you can do is smile in sweet defeat, knowing he won’t take no as an answer. Your gaze never leaves him, as if you were nothing but a speck of iron drawn by magnetic force. Not even when he raises the strawberry to your lips. “Open,” he commands, although his voice is practically a purr, soft and near the edge of rough. Your lips part and he holds the fruit to them. He watches, a man hypnotized by the white of your teeth as they sink into the flushed, succulent fruit, pale red juice immediately running from the broken flesh, over the curvature of your lips, across your tongue.

“Mmmm,” you sigh as you’re hit with the full-bodied taste of the strawberry. It’s the sweetness of summer, of sunshine, of long days and warm nights. It’s cool wind and cooler water. Shoeless feet tickled by green grass. It's fireflies and full moons. It's bare skin and sweat. Your eyes close as you savor the sensation. Gilbert watches your face, the euphoria that has your body going lax in his arms, the way your eyelids drop, stealing your gaze away from him. Your soft exhale of pleasure. Something hot and jagged suddenly bolts through him. He doesn’t want you looking like that, sounding like that, for any reason other than him.

He takes the half-eaten strawberry and sets it on his desk, rising suddenly, with you lifted into his arms. Startled, you cling to his neck as he carries you over to the large black velvet couch. “Gil?” Ever so slowly, he lays you down on your back, his expression alight with sharp intent as he leans over you. “I will have my taste now.”

You’re about to tell him that he left the strawberry on his desk when his body drops to press you into the softness of the sofa, his hands sliding up to hold your face as he lowers his head, his mouth capturing yours with all the swift resolve of a triumphal conqueror. He licks the leftover juice from your lips languidly, leaving not even a millimeter of them untasted. You gasp as he guides you, tilting your head so he can plunder your mouth, devouring you until he has lapped up every single essence of strawberry that lingered there. He is merciless, chasing that ghost of summer flavor until you are left breathless beneath him.

He breaks contact for a moment to look down into your face, now painted in shades of want and yearning and red-hot desire. And he smiles, satisfaction riding the blistering current of pleasure that rushes through his body.

Much better, he thinks. And then your hungry hands are in his hair, pulling him back to you and all thought is abandoned, much like the poor, half-eaten strawberry.

Tagging: @aquagirl1978 @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesrose @ikemen-writer @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @aria-chikage @redheadkittys @tele86 @dear-mrs-otome @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny @rhodoliteschaos @kpop-and-otome @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @otomefoxystar @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight @queen-dahlia @aceuuuuu @scorchieart @bubblexly @joiedecombat

#ikemen series #ikemen prince #ikepri #gilbert von obsidian #ikepri gilbert #ikemen gilbert #summer days sultry nights ccc #ikemen fanfiction #ikemen fanfic #violettwrites

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dogwoodreams · 1 month

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during the year pyrite will open the farm up to the public and allow them to pick strawberries and pumpkins. he uses the fields away from his house to ensure no one gets close to the cottage and wards the place to deter anyone from approaching.

#secrets in the soil : headcanons

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helloescapist · 7 months

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Let's Go | Akaza + Headcanons

The Request: “I have a request, could u possibly do a Hashira Akaza x demon reader, like when he finds her scared, he takes her in? Plus reader has a bamboo muzzle like Nezuko”

I hope you see this, and it meets your expectations <3

Word Count: 3222

Setting: Akaza x fem!demon!reader

Content Warnings: mentions of gore/violence, horror, abuse, cult behaviors, rituals, bound reader, some themes may be triggering for some readers.

Summary: the lure of perfume, the temptations of a blood art that drew him to this damned place, and the circumstances behind the art had not been what he had expected, nor the responsibility that would follow.

A/N: It's giving-- the cat he didn't want, but cannot abandon either.

Aged stones crumbled beneath his feet, cracked with every step he took. The touch of wet stone beneath his callous feet, the indigo dipped toes that pressed against each step, wandered from soaked bolder to moss swept stones. Vines that had long since claimed the path and dug out the history of the mountain.

Moss, and the skitter of inferior lifeforms that danced across the ground to flee his steps. Puffs of clouds painted in hues of slate gray, and the shadows of the nights crept amongst the hills. Rolled over the edges and whispered the depths of unheard secrets. Faint figures evading his sight, drew from shapes unknown. Structures unfamiliar, faint as the ghost that wandered amongst abandoned buildings. Robbed of life and offering only glimpses of the life that had once been through the shambles of ruins. The stillness of the night lingered amongst his skin, the touch of mist that struggled amongst the loss, the empty void of purpose. Structures, abandoned baskets, and rice ponds overrun by evasive vines. Stagnant air that threatened to suffocate his lugs, crush the coos of his senses, the touch of gold kissed citrine eyes that scanned his surroundings all too aware of the distinct pull upon his senses. The nagging way he could not draw himself away, tugged closer and closer each attempt that he dared to deny its siren’s song. The warmed amber notes of vanilla that warmed his soulless body, whispered embraces despite the blood that puddled at his feet, soaked into the earth and drenched the crops around him. Devoid of the sharp metallic scent that often accompanied the evidence, replaced by something sweet, and tempting. With only the wanning moon to guide his path, the grit of his teeth drew Akaza’s fist closed and clamped over the skull of his opponent. Each step matching the growl that blossomed at the base of his throat, the snarl that greeted the night air as he advanced towards a trembling monk. Wretched in blood, soiled in his own vomit upon witnessing the decapitation of his own friend, unworthy of brandishing the title of Sohei. Rattled his teeth that met the chatter of his jaw, the widening of his pupils horrified and spewing verses that meant little to the Upper Moon. His cowardice muddled over the pad of bare feet against stone and pebbles, his footing guided by his own revolt. The beads at his ankle were a mere mirror of the prayer beads clasped between the fingers of the Third Moon’s next target. The fold of the man’s pitiful body, mulled over on bent knees uttering bullshit of mercy, the weapon at his side abandoned lacking the bravery required to yield it, let alone flee.

The etched emblem baring his ranking danced across his cornea, Akaza’s eyes caught on the damning markings of the would-be warrior smeared in horrendous vows. Blood draw from the outer corner of the pretend devotee cut across his cheeks, trailed down his jawline, marred by the tears of his sniveling whimpers that elicited no sense of empathy from the demon, rather the insisting bemoaning only excited his wrath. All too aware of the bubbling at the pit of his stomach, and the gnaw of his lower lip unamused of his would-be opponents. The path behind him littered with bodies of the lesser creature’s comrades that neither thrilled, nor animated his senses, each baring the telling depictions of gore upon their faces. Movements that fell into dances, prayers that felt incomprehensible to the Upper Moon despite his familiarity with Buddhism. A warped religion, strayed from its original purpose, sacrificed amongst the denied followers, and accumulated from the blood of unsuspecting travelers. The voyage had betrayed the foul practices of the temples, morbid displays of carcasses strung amongst the trees, dripping blood to the soil, and hummed of talismans that bore no translated significance. Each step led Akaza up the mountains, the gravitational pool leaving him heedless, and defiant. Unable to escape the invisible threads that guided him up the abandoned steps, coated amongst the mist. A macabre game of hide and seek born of an invisible scent that beckoned his attendance, and the pests that dared to stand in his way, unable to even offer him a bit of entertainment. An annoyance at best, he had met with little restraint, the scent warmed his senses, cooed sweet nothings that Akaza could not describe. The break of spring nights warmed against his skin with only the moonlight to immolate the markings depicted across his skin, the glint in which his eyes caught the fading moonlight, clung to the grotesque symbolism depicted in corroded rust at the flesh of his cheeks. “I will not repeat myself. Where. Is. It.”

The depths of his voice revealed the severity that lurked beneath his surface. The amusement devoid, robbed of all satisfaction. Lack luster scuffles that could not pacify him, and the distinct fragrance of vanilla and peaches that robbed him of the distinct metallic scent of iron, and the rush of blood upon his fingertips had muddled his satisfaction. Drew his ire, a blood art had drawn him to this damned land, forgotten by buddha, and abandoned by the kami, drenched in the blood of victims, and worships of a false god. Its blood painted across worshiper’s face, masks delineate of religion. A numerous pulls of deviants dressed in monk clothes that had captivated the mountains, infested the surrounding area as termites harvest upon a fallen tree, etching away at the core of its being until there is nothing left but a carcass. Their mere presence, painted figures that loomed amongst the foliage, dripping in the blood art’s scent drawing him up this forsaken path. Lulled, and whispered begging, the horrified mumble of trembling bottom lips as the man before him trembled and wreathed. As though his tongue had suddenly been cut from his mouth, the erratic shaking of his eyelashes clenched at the tears that began to form, the pop of knuckles, guided forward in a single gesture. A path carved from foliage, broken through weeds, and trembled branches, snapped at the weight, and drawn upon the depths of the inner sanctum of the shrines. “T-There.” Quivered beneath the Upper Moon’s etched eyes, death that followed the sound of dripping as blood puddled from his superior’s severed head puddled beneath the demon’s feet. Painfully aware of the agonizing leap of his heart as the creature loomed forward. Akaza’s somber expression traced amongst the symbolism, the left-over residue of fingerprints utilized to mark the man’s skin.

“Very well,” dry as the night air, crackled upon the silence of the man’s shivering. The tips of blueberry flesh, fingers that captivated the faithless monk’s scalp, gathered at the remainder of hairs that had begun to grow as he followed his deceitful path, te force of a thousand men bend in a moment’s notice. The sickening crack of bones, splintered fragments torn from flesh. Asunder, wrecked from the axis, just above the transverse process at the neckline. Snapped, child’s play between his fingers, the rattle of the mandible finally seizing its insufferable chattering of misplaced winter, fear forever captured upon the victim’s face, and the wrinkles that creased upon Akaza’s brow as he discarded both craniums with little remorse, nor a second thought. Useless, and lacking any fighting spirit, an unworthy snack for one of his standards. Tossed over his shoulders as his feet guided him to the inter sanctum. Each step drawn upon his own annoyance, the familiarity in which he had been toyed with, drawn to this location unsavory. Far too similar to the antics of the Second Moon, and as the revulsion began to seep into his stomach, the scent had begun to flourish into heavy notes. Suffocating tones of peach. Earthen leaves left to the wind, unwashed vanilla. Breath drawn into his lungs, seared upon his senses. Robbed him of thoughts, claimed his waking conscious. Drew out quiet memories, something sweet, and tender, yet dared to rob him of his senses. Threatened to consume him, to rob the oxygen from his longs, to clasp its nails into the taunt skin of his neck, digging into the flesh until there would be nothing more, not even a single breath, and the distinct cry of a woman.

Help me, please.

It had not been what he expected, the blood art had surpassed his expectations, but the details had been blurred. The enticing waves of ambered vanilla touched on the desires of comfort, and security. Tender notes of peaches, sweet and alluring. Temptations that could lure any man within the radius of its reach, tempt women to wander in the dead of night at the scent of spilt blood. Tossed caution to the wind and abandon sense with heedless doubts drawn to the sweet allure of cushioned promises wrapped in sweet sentiments. Such a deceptive blood art had led Akaza to believe that the source would be nothing more than a Cretan that roamed the depths of scum along side Doma. Delighted in folly that followed the devastation of others around them, danced to a tune unheard by others as victims threw themselves at their feet. Enamored with suffering, and savoring the flesh of innocent who were heedless to the dangers they had roamed in under the guise of religious calling—unsuspecting and little mor than sheep to the slaughter. The depiction of a throne built on the bodies of worshippers, snacking on the pearls of agony. A sloth of pleasures, and unbothered by the ways of the world, nor having any shred of dignity. No, this had not been what Akaza had expected in the slightest.

The would-be worshippers had taken a turn, embedded in chants and prayers that fell on the screams of the bound. Bowing repeatedly between fallen words, uttered in hums and the rubbing of palms. Heads bowed low to the ground with each dip of their spines. Desecrated holy robes, staunch with fresh blood, and the grotesque markings upon their cheeks. Stale eyes that neither followed the trace of the Upper Moon’s steps, unphased by his presence, sacrificed to the falling of words at the bow of their backs. Entranced with a ritual that churned his stomach and raised his eyebrow. A display worthy of the Second Moon was depicted before him, reeking of perfume and blood. Drawn out upon a fallen altar, chains coiled and wreathing in each movement. Blood staunched, spilt across aged stone. Cracks that had surmised into the boulders it had been built upon. Bodies littered to the side, varying in ages and sizes. Finest silks shredded and stripped of jewels, to the thin of bones of travelers robbed of their coin purses, left over straw hats and baskets of farmers and gathers among the mix evidence of their wares taken from corpses, the sacrificed of wanders lured by silken scents. The faint of painter, coated in blood and distinguished markings of some perverted holy talismans bound and coiled amongst the chains that withered and wreathed. Forced upon the strips of bamboo, the very altar of holy worship encased in a pit of sharpen black bamboo, with only one path to fall upon its worshipers. A monk at the center of the altar, his arms raised above his bald head, and the draping of the finest silk kimonos wrapped across his body revealing the depths of his deception. Prayer beads crafted of the precious stones caught amongst the lanterns, sparkled in each of his movements at the dagger glinted not the flame. The blade fell upon spilt blood, and the scream that followed the blooming scent of peaches and vanilla. Fresh as the blood that tarnished the ground beneath your knees. Cries of agony muffled by the bamboo forced between your lips, and the tears caught upon your hair. Lavish robes, hung upon your bones, an embellished deity, little more than a puppet of religious plight. The dip of his fingers drawing Akaza’s immediate ire, his body betraying his sense. His movements one of a possessed man, the callous of his hands the paint of indigo at his finger tips at the pull of hair in one fluid movement. Ripped the skull from the priest’s body, the tumble of its bones rolled from the altar. Popped upon the rocks with each fallen chant of worshipers, unresponsive to the gore before them. The quiver of your eyes captivating his senses, bathed in the scents of the night, faintly aware of the acts to follow.

Only brought back to the state of mind upon the bodies that had fallen to his feet, the quiver of your body, and the lavish scent that had been snubbed from the night, the cut upon your cheeks healed as such shallow wounds prevent little implication for any of your kind. The small jerk of your body, recoiled from his touch met at the unsure clench of his teeth. The depths of a conscious he could not connect with, reminding Akaza of his unfamiliarity and uncertainty of interacting with a woman. The clip of his brow revealing the small annoyance, small slips of a memory that he could not grasp, nor the melancholy it burrowed into his soul before crushing the chains that bound you between your feet. The fold of feline ears pinned to the base of your skull, tucked backwards and skittish with each of his movements. The tuck of a tail, no perhaps two burrowed into your kimono, as your eyes traced him warily, the small touch of a canine mirrored as you regarded him. The pulls of citrine gleamed, ambered honey shyer than he would ever admit meeting your own gaze. The shiver of your body and pull of your muscles. Frail and tender, far too much time spent as a false deity, tortured, and inappropriately cared for. The Upper Moon’s small quip of his brow, and tug of his lips. Eyes that fell upon the bodies of the slain, faintly aware of the blood bath he had elicited, nor the way it clung to his clothes. Pondered if feeding you such spoiled products would be enough to give you the energy to flee from his sights, fully aware of the wary state in which you regarded him. He didn’t blame you. Something small, something that touched upon his memories, shy eyes that looked away from him… Women were like this, were they not? His lamenting drawing him to the conclusion, that what little strength that remained in your bones would be enough to seize you from this place, if only given the time, or resources which he had… well provided unintentionally. The spoils of such disgusting creatures at his feet nothing to appease his appetite, nor tempt his own hunger. Perhaps, you only needed the time… to regain yourself.

Such horrors… Ah, I scared her.

The pad of his feet, drawn upon the steps, falling in line wordlessly. Not so much as a parting word, fearful of the fragile state of your body, pondered upon if such parting of his words would shatter you. You had already been through… Ah, no he didn’t wish to think of it, nor consider the implications his own actions had had upon you. The beads of his ankles trembled with each step, and the grit of his fingers as the folded into fist. Uneasy as the moonlight that caught upon his raspberry-kissed hair. Knotted his stomach and made his skin crawl…. It had been so many years since he had felt this way, the melancholy of a life he could not remember ebbing at his conscious and drawing one step after another, unable to find the will to run from this place. Morning would come soon, the touch of coils, the shuffle of fabric across the ground. Caught at stones, and trembled with unbalanced steps. Life devoid upon your bones, malnourished and struggling to bear the weight of the lavish kimono. Embellishments, and the peek of kitten ear posed forward, no longer bound to your locks as your eyes traced him curiously. The peek of you behind his shoulder quick to dismiss as the mere need of escaping this area before any utilized your blood art for personal wealth once more. Yet, as he descended the mountain shrine steps he became faintly aware of the phantom tracing his every movement. A delicate dance of small steps that mirrored his own, and the silhouette that ducked behind trees and boulders when he would dare to peek over his shoulder. Akaza’s own confusion, whispering reassurance that it was merely coincidence that you had opted to follow this very path. The occasional snap of a twig, and attempt to catch you peered over, still as the moonlight. Perhaps attempting to remain out of his sight with the stillness of your breath before slipping between the trees. Oblivious to the peek of your tails flickered amongst the branches. Akaza far too aware of the feline eyes that traced his movements, uncertain of what game you were playing, or if perhaps it was all circumstantial--- women were not prone to following him around after all, and he certainly did not invite such interactions.

The final steps before the stones washed away from the path, corroded into abandoned forests, and the village he had wandered amongst, the reclamation of foliage, and the forest captivated upon the frays of abandoned houses, the small rustle of leaves, and yowl in the base of your throat, remained muffled by the bamboo placed between your canines. Your clear agitation, and duress providing him with the ample courage to finally turn back to regard you. The slip of your kimono, entwined upon the branches and revealing the touch of thighs that ignited the highs of his cheeks. The annoyed huff of air as his eyebrows drew together, met under the curses of his breath and bitter confusion. Turned his back, and dared a step forward, before letting out his own growl before turning back to you. His steps thundered across the stone and drawing the blades of your shoulders up, and arched. More catlike than predator as his fingers drew the slip from the branches, untangled the furrowed cloth and met your eyes with frustration. “You can go,” he instructed, releasing you from the foliage. Content with this being the last of your interactions, except for the draw of your ears. Once again, pinned to your hair, the lavish state of your apparel ridiculous to the environment, and any hopes of voyage. The bend of his knees bearing his weight, and the intentional scowl of a display before relinquishing his back before your eyes. The usher of his fingers at his back, ushering your weight onto his back. Neither of you would make it very fair in such wear, and with daylight approaching, he did not have the time for this. The haughty huff of his breath that drew at the heat of his cheeks, and the small touch of a growl as he uttered, “Let’s go.”

Taking You In Headcanons | Akaza

He doesn't want to do this.

He REALLY doesn't want to do this.

Akaza has a natural aversion to women-- and if you do not know his background, there's a very valid reason as to why he's not one for harming, nor seeking out a woman's company.

However, for the very same reasons, I just can't see Akaza outright abandoning you either, but let's be clear, he really doesn't want to do this.

I really feel like you become that cat that he does not initially want, and does everything he can to send you away. He considered biwa woman to take you in.

Accepted that for whatever reason (his conscious) that he could not just leave you to her, and accepted that... it's only a matter of time before that bastard Second hears of this.

Caretaking, is not what he has spent his life focusing on, and in some ways, it could hinder his actions. He'll debate back and forth of leaving you to your own devices-- and as time goes on, and the Upper Moon Three is confident you can take care of yourself, he's going to.

I mean, he'll check in, but for the most part, he will take advantage of your new found independence to seek out scuffles.

Akaza cannot sit still, and he will NOT take you with him. If you choose to remain by his side, you will have to accept that there will be long periods in which he travels, and you will remain behind. What you do in the mean time is of little concern, as long as you remain faithful and honest. Any attempts of insincerity, or manipulation will sever all bonds.

Remember, clingy is by no means attractive to him.

Until that time comes, I think Akaza would begrudgingly under take the tasks of taking care of you, and nurturing you back to your full potential.

In fact, I think physical needs come fairly natural to him, and may even be a pain if you're seeking out a physical relationship because he will not be openly engaging in emotional wellbeing.

No really, such open vulnerability will take him quite some time to approach, and it will be done out of a bit of spite. He'll do it, but he's going to complain.

Taking care of you was not a decision, or a commitment he took likely, and Akaza does not make rash decisions. While he may be quick to seem engaged, and curious, he does not make a commitment without being sure of himself, and his capabilities. Whether it's a long term relationship, or temporarily caring for a wounded cat.

Because of this, you will have to understand he will not be quick to meeting any emotional damage you have sustained in the duration of your capture, nor will he grasp the depths of damage that PTSD can inflict on another person. He can't even face his own trauma

In fact, he can be down right insensitive.

First call to action will be that he will secure suitable clothes for you. One in part because you reek of that damned place, and he cannot cope with that. It's like being stuck with Doma, he's not doing it. There is also the realities that this outfit, is just not realistic. Let's be honest, he's not going to seek out outfits that are revealing, or offering a lot of exposure. In fact, I think he would stick with traditional, and modest clothing, but with the ability for you to work, and move across the terrain.

He doesn't like the idea of you fighting, and will do everything he can to avoid placing you in such circumstances, but he is well aware that, you need to be able to defend yourself. The world is cruel to women. He will keep this in mind in securing your clothes.

He'll seek out the opportunity to sponge out all of this perfume. yes, he understands that it is your blood art, but you reek, and because of this, I can expect he will drop you off at a waterfall/pond fairly routinely to keep the reminiscent of your blood art to more maintainable quantities.

Not to mention he's worried about you luring something big in while he's away.

in preparing you for your routine scrubbing, I imagine the moment will come that he will attempt to remove the bamboo muzzle. If you do want it to be removed, he will happily do so. Likely uttering a number of curses to the perverts who have done this to you.

But if like Nezuko, you have opted to remain this way, he will say nothing other than inquire about how you intend to eat. It's just not practical. This however, will be the end of this discussion. He has no desires to force you into anything, nor will he even attempt to dispute your choices.

No really, think about it. He asked Rengoku for CONSENT to become a demon. I just cannot imagine Akaza forcing anything on anyone.

Rather, I imagine that every little thing will need consent.

Consent to touch you.

Consent to help brush out your hair.

Consent to enter the room when you've finished changing.

Everything.

Realistically, his next step will be to feed you, and it's one that he takes high importance on. if you have selected a proper diet for a demon, he will be particularly choosy about what he feeds you. He's not feeding you women or children, don't get your hopes up, but I can imagine him selecting worthy food. A nice husband, perhaps a kabuki artist that has just began to take the stage. Nothing dirty, or tainted.

However, in the event that you have opted for a demon-vegan life style, I can foresee him struggling. Nothing crude or agitated, but genuinely concern that is appearing as anger. He's not going to press the issue-- but are you getting enough sleep to meet your needs?

Akaza is by nature not the sort to have plush bedding, nor anything really fussy. He's always on the go, that I imagine that more often than not he opts to rough it, but if you have selected your substance to remain from dozing, I imagine that he would go to great lengths to figure out what you would need to receive optimum beauty sleep.

If you get past his prickly ill-ease with women, you'll find that he's actually a snuggler and not one to argue with you crawling into bed with him. I dare say, he secretly enjoys it.

Akaza is upfront, and honest with all of his intentions, and because of this, he told you upon taking you in what his expectations were. for you to one day, care for yourself.

He is natural at reading people, and because of this all of your physical needs will be met with little hesitation. In fact, more often than not you will find yourself wowed by some of his gestures. such as the way he brought a hair tie charm in your favorite color despite never being told it was so.

As I've said, he's not one for emotional conversation, and things that dip far too deep into his surface will likely leave him bruised and prickly. In part because, he doesn't want to recall his life as a human, and even more so, Akaza is aware that he is one of the few unable to recall.

Is it a sore topic for him?

Yes.

But he doesn't know why, and that is enough to ensure he doesn't want to dig deeper into it, and he doesn't want you to either. To the same extent, he will assume you have no desire to dig deeper into your own needs. Akaza is also not certain he can meet them. Nightmares in the middle of the night of your captivity.

Will not be met with talks and comfort. Rather, they'll be met with uncertainty before he just folds his arms over you, and beckons you to bed. Hoping that the press of his body is more than enough to reassure you that those days are long gone.

Really, these slips of insecurity, of raw emotion leaves him anxious and uneasy. It's out of his element, and nothing that he feels secure in exploring. In fact, he's probably a terrible listener because he is imagining any scenario that will get him. out. of. here.

More so, Akaza will naturally be more protective of you than he will ever admit, or hint to. Really, aside from the Upper Moons and the Master, none will be aware of the depths of his safeguarding he has over you.

So much so that you will delight in how attentive he can truly be.

#demon slayer x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #kny x reader #🍡tsuyospeaks #akaza x reader #upper moons x reader

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azakal · 22 days

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Alright well, some people liked my last post so I'm back with some more thoughts.

We are aware of 7 of the witches stations right now (World's Heart, Wind & Stars, Wild Hunt, Woodland Green, Waning Moon, Watching Fire and Wide Sea), but iirc we know that they were up to 13 at one point. Which means we're missing 6 witches domains... This isn't speculation or headcanon in any way but I tried to come up with some more and I had fun, so I thought I'd share !

Witch of the Whispered Words - secrets, conspirations, etc. Maybe has an affinity with the idea of promises and always holding up your part of a bargain ? A classic black cat familiar sounds appropriate.

Witch of Waltz and Song - Music, poetry and dance. Always talk in rhyme or cryptic haikus. I'm thinking lyre bird for familiar.

Witch of the Weather's Rage - Storms, rain, thunder, hail... Always followed by gray clouds. Can't decide what to pick for her familiar, maybe a monitor lizard, maybe a giant African snail that's just constantly on her shoulder ?

Witch of the Warren's Embrace - Earth, soil, and the warmth of a home. I don't know why these two feel related to me, I've always found earth and dirt comforting. Might just be a me thing. Huge rhinoceros beetle familiar.

Witch of the Wound's Tending (not 100% satisfied with that name but English isn't my first language and I can't quite find the right wording for that one) - Healing, medicine, treating illnesses and injuries. Rosy maple moth familiar, maybe normal moth size (cute) or maybe human face-sized (terrifying and also still cute).

Witch of the Warrior's Might - I haven't had a deep look into the mechanics of the Witch class so I don't know if there are some viable martial options, but I think it'd be fun to have a witch whose whole thing is courage and strategy (and perhaps has a big-ass sword) while still using witchy magic in the way she fights. Silvery white Newfoundland dog familiar.

#worlds beyond number #wbn #the wizard the witch and the wild one #twtwtwo #wbn spoilers #wbn: www #wwwo #witches #witch of the world's heart

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sitp-recs · 9 months

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Very late on this but following tradition here’s a birthday rec post to celebrate our kind, brilliant and inimitable @lqtraintracks! It’s not a secret that I’ve loved LQT’s works for over a decade and am beyond grateful for everything they’ve done for the fandom, for Drarry, and for my fave rare pair. I love using any excuse to rec LQT but after many lists and recs it was a challenge to come up with something I hadn’t done before. Since they’re impressively prolific (how lucky are we?!) I thought of bringing together new gems recently posted and beloved old faves, Drarry and rare pair galore as it should be! So come and feast on another self-indulgent and slutty Liv list, my specialty 😌 Thank you my friend for being a steady, joyful, welcoming presence in the fandom, for gracing us with so many brilliant reads, for introducing me to my favorite rare pair (my whole heart belongs to your Hardy) and for bringing to life the perfect Teddy Lupin - your characterization remains my ultimate headcanon for him even after all these years. I hope you’ve had an incredible day!!! 💜

5 new rare pair fics to read:

🚗 destination unknown (M, 1.2k) - Teddy/James

They’re taking a trip together; they’re falling in love, or already there.

🧨 ballroom, close hold: five, six, seven, eight (E, 1.4k) - Fred/George

If there are two things that don’t go together, it’s sex pollen and going into heat. Or maybe they do go together and it’s just a matter of perspective.

📷 collarbones like a bow, skin an arrow to the heart (E, 4k) - Ginny/Pansy

Gin’s adjusting the lighting for their next shoot when in walks the new model Luna was so enthusiastic about, and that’s when they know they’re in deep shit.

🧹 Like Love Itself (E, 5k) - Albus/James

Albus has spent his whole life chasing after James. It never occurred to him James might want to be caught.

🐾 Eyes Gone Golden Like Coins (E, 5k) - Harry/Teddy

“Wish I could knot you,” I hear myself say. His eyes flash golden, like Galleons fresh from the Gringotts mint. When we’ve finished and we’re lying all tangled up, he asks softly. “You can… can’t you?”

5 Drarry faves to reread:

💔 A Pain of Our Choosing (E, 6k)

It’s 8th year and everyone’s still a bit messed up. Harry and Draco fall into being messed up together.

🎯 check this hand 'cause I'm marvelous (E, 8k)

Harry's had a crush on Malfoy for months now. But it will take a bar full of his friends, some Firewhisky, wagers made on his behalf, and Malfoy himself to get him to act on it.

🎁 Touch Me Fall (E, 23k)

Malfoy was such a ponce. And he was a complete snob. And he was so fucking fit Harry wanted to jump him where he sat. It would be too easy to forget his objective tonight: to really, really, really get Malfoy out of his system.

🐉 Blood and Fire (E, 45k)

Harry has spent the last twelve years in Romania, not returning to England as often as he knows he should. It's complicated. But when Ginny asks him to be her best man and help her plan her wedding, he can't say no. Having a reckoning with his choices, with himself, won't be easy. To say nothing of seeing Draco again.

🎲 Right Hand Red (E, 73k)

Harry felt Malfoy's breath on his lips as they came together over the bottle, hands firmly planted on the floor as though they each needed their familiar soil, refusing to cross into enemy territory. Except that Malfoy no longer felt like his enemy. Malfoy felt inevitable.

Bonus: Liv’s angsty PWP picks 🔥

🥃 Afterimage (1.7k) - Ginny/Ron

Ron comes home drunk (again); Ginny takes care of him. Again.

🌙 Beneath a Foreign Moon (2.7k) - Harry/Teddy

Harry visits Teddy in the middle of the night.

🪞 Slip Free of My Grasp (3.4k) - Harry/Sirius

I don't want to be bad for him. I want to do bad things and still be, somehow, inexplicably, good.

👠 Rogue Waves (6.5k) - Ginny/Pansy

A story of living with the trauma, fucking who you want, and maybe finding a little solace.

🎸 like the lost lyrics of a song suddenly remembered (11k) - Teddy/Bill, Teddy/James

Teddy Lupin, aging rockstar, is making a comeback after his life and career were nearly ruined by an illegal potions habit. Everyone's out to support him tonight. Including the man he's always tried so hard not to love -- as well as the man he's always turned to instead.

#happy bday lqt!!! 🎉🎉🎉#a fandom icon honestly #so happy and grateful that I get to share this space with you #hp recs #drarry and rare pairs

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gr00vyminibus · 10 months

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Maria rambeau / NSFW headcanons ☆

Warning: smut, just filthy smut.

Taglist: @zeezeecave @mybonafidefeelings @masterajoy314 @xenaizogie @blacksapphhicmaddonna

[A/N: @mybonafidefeelings u wanted it I gotchu ♡]

At the start.. ♡

☆ When you both first started getting intimate Maria held back, which is strange because she appeared to be a sweet bottom on the surface that loved getting praised and cared for. WRONG!

☆ I mean she still loves those things but the more you two got comfortable with eachother the more you realized she could be an actual brat, foreplay was definitely her strong suit.

☆ she could string you along, even tease until you got frustrated so you could flip the roles like a coin and have your way with her until she physically and mentally could no longer defy you.

☆ but, its never easy. "Faster, faster~" your wrist could be cramping but you thrusted into her pussy quicker than you thought possible "That fast enough, baby?" She hummed a disagreement but you held her face tightly making sure she was looking at you. Truth is, her misty orbs exposed that she was bluffing and about to cum.

☆ When Monica isn't around Maria is free to walk about in a towel and drop it if she chooses.

☆ You often get distracted and watch her reach for things in the cabinets, sometimes she drops back on her toes which causes her ass to jiggle in the loose wrap of her towel. Crystalline drops rolling down the top part of it and dissapearing to God knows where..

Spanking ♡

☆ She loves when you spank her, its just the way you bring it down and grip the skin after while you massage it. The action doesn't only apply to her ass, it applies to her sex too.

☆ Maria has a very plump pussy so that aspect exposes her to a lot of sensitivity. Getting spanked on her clit when its throbbing or targetting her quivering entrance can easily push her to cum in a minute.

▪︎

Show off ♡

☆ Maria loves to put on a show when she's riding you, her hands wander all over her body as she carresses her sweaty chest. Her hips smoothly moving back and forth as her stomach tenses in between when brushing against her g-spot. You love it too no matter how much of a tease it is.

☆ She doesn't like for her hair to be pulled because she's quite tender headed but her throat? Of course.

☆ Maria likes to cum when she's short on air the most, it makes orgams a thousand times better.

☆ She enjoys being bound and restricted. It mostly happens when she's being punished. Maria likes to think of it as being wrapped in ribbon, like she's your gift. She adores when you claim her body that way.

☆ Maria does a thing, a marvelous thing where she lowers between your legs and takes a hold of your strap, she initiates an intense eye contact and does an expert suck on almost the entire length. Her manicured hand pumping shortly at the base. You can't feel her actions but they affect you greatly just by pure observation

☆ After, Maria pulls off the silicone appendage and coats her hand in some lube before finally sinking down on it, its become a secret why she does that sometimes and you're torn between maria wanting something down her throat or just wanting to make you extra wet.

+ 1! Lingerie ♡

☆ Her lingerei game is offfff the charts. Baby has impeccable fashion sense and according to you, "Uh uh, slide em back on." you whispered in her ear as your eyes remained locked. Maria pouted slightly as she lifted her hips to fit back on the soiled panties she came on multiple times.

Switch-up! ♡

☆ she could catch you by surprise anytime. Maria doesn't always bottom.

☆ When she pleases you, you have to be respectful to your kid and the neighbors next door. Practically begging for her to slow down since your oragsm is racing to catch you.

☆ "Mean what you say, you really want me to?" Your head turned into the pillow as you panted out and soon shook it from side to side. Stuttering out a series of low moans.

"Mh, you're so pent up babygirl.." Maria knew this because you were stubborn to finish but your will couldn't stretch any farther than it already had.

☆ Your expressions are to die for, her free hand often squeezes your face as she ghost her lips over your parted ones. Smiling at the sound of your whimpers and mindless incoherence.

Motivation ♡

☆ You both can turn your favorite methods of exceressing into a session of pleasure.

☆ Maria can't even finish her damn sets properly because you found a way to have your hands in her leggings, too delighted to find out she wore no panties this afternoon. Her thighs shook when she pressed the metal plates outward and swore she couldn't do it but, "yes you can, finish one more. For me."

☆ You would be on a mat on all fours, watching the yoga video on that flat-screen as Maria silently watched your body bend. At times she dug her hand into her pocket when you got into perfect position and pressed the button. The toy inside of you buzzed just below the maximum level and she enjoyed watching you squirm.

☆ "Breathe honey, breathe." She would tease, knowing damn well.

👭🏿

Huge turn on(s) ♡

☆ Maria is driven delirious everytime you taste her. Her pointed feet tend to tap againt your back repeatedly because it just feels amazing. When you reach for her clit while your toungue slips in out her it can bring her to tears. You intentionally slurp loud so she can hear the cause of why you're putting in so much effort.

☆ If Maria's feeling super nasty (in the sexiest way possible ofc) she's the one to lick up the column of your glistening throat. When you throw your head back it gives the perfect opportunity so why not?

☆ If you reassure Maria by saying you belong to her, she'll be in utopia. It'll happen when she's fucking you so good that you nearly reach that point of not being able to communicate. But you breath those words "I'm yours." so close to her lips that she can't help but smirk and lick at them. "Glad you know that."

☆ Not to mention, Maria will not miss a chance to verbally dom you as she is physically.

☆ You're obsessed with every inch of her, especially her stomach and thighs. Its so biteable and easy to target when you want a giggle or two.

☆ The phone calls she gives when you excuse yourself from something important that somehow isn't as serious as what your wife has to say. Spoiler alert she shamelessly gives details about what she wants and how much she needs you to come home so you both can partake in unspeakable activities.

☆ Morning sex, Maria always craves it but understands you both can't always reach the goal of having an orgasm every morning (even though her day will feel incomplete without having her mouth messy with your essence at least once). You know having a kid and being to work on time, all that good stuff.

☆ Is at her peak joy when you both manage to do it until sunrise, you two just melt onto of eachother like ice-cream and kiss until your lips are sore and your conscienceness finally clocks out.

☆ Soft and soothing sex, where neither of you feed into a dynamic and would rather just fuck absent-mindedly with only one motive, to please one another. Its like drifting into a void with clouds and a warm blue sky, naturaly you both whisper to one another during times like this.

☆ You favor your bathtime with Maria because when you wash eachothers bodies it feels therapeutical enough, she likes to take it an extra mile anyway and instructs you to relax against the edge of the tub as her wet hand glides down your chest and down to your core. It was unspoken but, its a reward for being such a wonderful partner to her and such a supportive parent to her child.

☆ Speaking of bathtime, the moments you two have had in the shower are just a blur of steam and glass squeaking, loud spraying and constant pleas. Maria will be planted on the ground before you as her toungue runs across your clit, the additional force of the shower head making buck your hips uncontrollably.

☆ When Maria praises you from her subbing role it turns you more than she can possibly imagine, "Oh shit, baby right there! Yeah, yeah–" she continued to rant and ramble about how satisfied you made her feel. "Treating this pussy so good, mhh you make it cum- so fucking much. You know that?"

☆ Her hands are so gifted, they can cook, write, fly, work, lift, and most definitely pleasure you. One of her favorite moments in having sex with you was when both of were on your knees on the bed, comfortably settling on your calves. You layed your back into Maria's chest as she fingered you steadily.

☆ You both are suckers for breasts, Maria is obsessed with yours especially though. There so oval and soft like pudding. Her mouth will always be a proud visitor to your mounds and nipples.

Airplane mode ♡

☆ Maria definitely takes the private jet on some date nights, she cuffs her sleeves on purpose because she knows you love watching her forearms flex as she controls the aircraft. "You better keep that hand right there or you're gonna make us crash." Maria glances at you knowingly. You would just smile and take your hands back for yourself. (Deciding to plot instead)

☆ The connecting headphones you both wear to hear each other stays on sometimes when either of you are giving head. Think about that one lol..

✈︎

Aftercare ♡

☆ Throughout the journey of your sex life, aftercare of course is very important and though its dreadful to think about since you both practically fuck yourselves to exhaustion, the moment you both sink into warm water or catch your breath while the other wipes the tired person up, thats just as heavenly as an orgasm.

☆ "I'm done." You smack the air as both of your chests heave under the sheets, Maria turns her head to you and chuckles. "Not before we take a bath and get rid of these sheets?"

☆ you raise your brows, "oh- cool, so you can run the water, start us off?" Maria opens her mouth and tilt your chin her to hear what she has to say.

☆ "Five minutes, five minutes." You laugh, "But, Ms. Suggestion I thought-" Maria runs her hand over your face to shut you up as she amusingly scoffs. Both of you just dwell in the silence and then grudgingly get up to fix yourselves and your surroundings.

_♡♡♡

#maria rambeau #black wlw #maria rambeau smut #maria rambeau fic #maria rambeau x black fem #maria rambeau x fem #lashana lynch #captian marvel #lgbtq #black queer women #lesbian

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likeapro42 · 1 year

Text

The Forgivenshipping/GreenFlower Language of Flowers AU

(Where I become incredibly self-indulgent and mash like 65% of my headcanons into a single story)

In which Brad was a tad more open about his love of plants to Lloyd. Lloyd isn’t all that interested until Brad reveals the language of flowers. When Lloyd learns about how plants can be used as a secret code, he starts getting into plants, too. Then, Brad and Lloyd start exchanging origami bouquets to talk to each other (because paper is easy to get your hands on; flowers will get you in trouble). Also, they develop mutual crushes, but both don’t know it yet (they’re like ten or eleven).

And then Lloyd gets kicked out. Brad secretly misses his old roommate (can’t get emotional at Darkley’s, or you’ll get eaten alive) and his friendship with Gene gets strained because of how indifferent Gene seems (he isn’t indifferent but, again, Darkley’s. Gene just doesn’t know how to express the warnings of getting too emotional without belittling Brad for being so emotionally open)

Durring Lloyd and Pythor’s joint-attack on Darkley’s, Lloyd places a bouquet of flowers on Brad’s bunk, complimenting the other boy platonically. However, the meanings of the flowers can also be read as romantic. After the attack, Brad reads it as romantic and immediately starts blushing.

Brad definitely presses/preserves those flowers and hides them in a floor board under their shared his bunk

Meanwhile, when Lloyd is adopted by the Ninja, Lloyd immediately wants to create a garden. So, while no one is watching him (due to the Ninja vs Samurai thing), he starts sneaking soil, fertilizer, and seeds on board, in the back corner of a storage room that gets lots of sunlight.

Wu figures this out almost immediately, and he only confronts Lloyd after a few weeks into his stay onboard the Bounty. However, Lloyd is embarrassed (he was taught that liking flowers was shameful all his life, after all), so Lloyd tries to lie about it until Wu start complimenting it. Lloyd finally admits to the garden being his and asks if he can continue taking care of it. Wu agrees, even giving Lloyd money specifically for his garden.

Nya finds out about a week later and asks him about it. Lloyd feels extra defensive and uses his knowledge on Nya being The Steel Samurai to blackmail her into not saying a word. Nya isn’t really intimidated (he’s too small and floofy and addicted to candy to be), but realizes he’s terrified of other people finding out. So she agrees, but only he promises not to say anything about The Steel Samurai in return. They strike a deal and Nya will occasionally help Lloyd out when the boys are gone.

A few more weeks pass and Kai starts to get suspicious. The runt keeps unexpectedly leaving from the boys room in the middle of the night. He must be up to something nefarious!

So Kai using his super ninja stealth to follow Lloyd one night, but instead of an evil plot or a horrible prank, it’s a tiny garden filled with all sorts of flowers and veggies and herbs and-

That’s around the time Lloyd realizes Kai is there and belatedly tries to hide the garden. Lloyd eventually realizes it is futile and Kai asks why Lloyd is hiding such a thing. Lloyd explains (in a manor that is very horrifying, and even worse Lloyd thinks this behavior is normal).

Kai tells Lloyd that the others won’t think less of him for having a garden. Lloyd doesn’t believe him and makes Kai promise not to tell the others. Kai agrees.

When they’re alone a few days later, Kai asks what got Lloyd into gardening in the first place. Lloyd explains with a blush on his face. Kai figures out Lloyd’s crush, but doesn’t let Lloyd know, assuming Lloyd already does (and Lloyd already shared something he viewed as embarrassing to Kai. No need to make it worse by teasing the brat about his super obvious crush).

Maybe throw in a a few instances where the ninja and/or Nya feel crummy (before they know [besides Kai and Nya, of course]) and the mysterious bouquet that appeared on their bed or pillow. Wu translates the first bouquet which leads to everyone rushing the flowers to him in a translation. They start to try and figure out who is leaving the bouquets, but never suspect Lloyd because he’s, well, Lloyd.

A few weeks later, Lloyd gets kidnapped by the serpentine. Kai, after a lot of research, (and enlisting Wu for help,) starts taking care of Lloyd’s garden until Lloyd is found again.

In the process, he bumps into Nya, who is doing the same, and they do the Spider-Man-pointing meme before working together on the garden.

Over time, the other ninja, one by one, stumble upon the garden and Kai swears them all to secrecy (after explaining everything and trying to convey Lloyd’s fucked up thought process. And Kai’s efforts to gain Lloyd’s trust so he can hopefully settle in and be more comfortable/open with everyone else).

That person then also starts helping out with Lloyd’s garden.

Once the last person discovers it, Kai gives up and it’s no longer a secret, so they work together to maintain he garden. Well, until Wu returns with Garmadon.

Kai is already pretty protective of Lloyd due to the unexpected bonding pre!kidnapping, so he makes sure that Garmadon doesn’t even come anywhere near Lloyd’s secret garden. (Kai knows Lloyd looks up to Garmadon [it’s all over his clothes for Pete’s sake!], and Lloyd would be crushed if his father insulted the kid for it. Kai wasn’t about to take that chance.)

Lloyd comes back (like in canon) and, while coming to terms of being the prophesied Green Ninja, he sprints to his safe space: his secret garden. He is immediately in awe of how much all of plants have grown, the expansion of the garden’s size, and all of the new additions.

The ninja and Nya all go to find him and comfort him (after talk of the Fangblades and what to do next), immediately heading to the garden. They reveal who did what and why they helped to take care of the garden. (“Because it’s important to you Lloyd, and your family. Which makes it important to us”). They also thank Lloyd for the amazing bouquets from before and how much it meant to them.

Lloyd cries and they have a huge group hug.

When the group hug breaks, Jay ruins the mood by demanding to learn about the language. Lloyd agrees to start teaching them (he doesn’t really get around to it until Season 2)

When the Ninja head off to steal back the Fangblades, Garmadon finally stumbles upon the garden (thanks to Kai, he thinks that is where some of the ninja’s secrets/weaknesses are hiding) with Lloyd taking care of it.

The two have a heart to heart about how Lloyd isn’t pathetic and how Garmadon will always love him, Green Ninja or not, etc., etc.

(Which makes the stealing of secrets thing that more heart wrenching)

When Garmadon goes to leave, Lloyd begs for him to stay a minute and rushes to the garden to pluck to few flowers to apologize for his outburst earlier as well as saying farewell. Garmadon actually stays (they need a tad bit more closure, TOMMY) and promises to treasure it.

(Lloyd doesn’t know it, but Garmadon presses the bouquet and stores it in a picture frame, now hanging in the old house Garmadon, Lloyd, and Misako used to live in.)

Maybe have a short introspective moment either during “The Day of the Great Devourer” or afterwards, Lloyd’s grief over not only the only home he’s ever known, but the amazing garden he had.

The ninja find out why he’s so upset and promise to help him set up an even better garden that is 10x better in a more permanent location.

(They don’t make good on the promise until after S2)

When they finally move into the crummy apartment: Lloyd buys a few pots and has a small assortment of tiny plants that sit on the windowsill.

As the ninja train Lloyd, Lloyd teaches the ninja the language of flowers.

(He also sneaks a few more pots into the Mojo Dojo)

A few months pass and the Lloyd gets invited to Darkley’s. Lloyd freaks out (but for more than one reason this time), and starts going through his entire collection of plants to debate on which one to give to Brad.

Gene became Brad’s new roommate sometime during S1, btw, because he’s still a bit of a troublemaker and Brad would keep rein him in (the staff doesn’t know that Brad is also a harbinger of chaos and sometimes helps Gene cause trouble). After Brad hears Gene crying at night over missing Lloyd, Brad confronts Gene. They argue, they fight, they emotionally break down, they help each other pick up the pieces, they hug, they forgive each other, they have a better understanding of one another, and the two become besties

When Brad greets the ninja, there is a lot more blushing and stuttering between the two (Brad is a year older and has shot up in height and his voice is deeper and smoother; Lloyd hasn’t grown much, but he has definitely gained some muscle mass)

(Unbeknownst to the two, the ninja are storing the knowledge for later and definitely going to tease Lloyd about this)

(And, unbeknownst to the everyone, part of Gene’s ploy to turn Lloyd back to the “evil” side is to tempt Lloyd with Brad. Gene even makes Brad look his best and forces the kid to greet the Ninja when they first arrive [not that it was that hard to convince Brad]. After all, Gene put together that his two best friends are down bad for each other AGES ago)

When the ninja are packing up to leave, Brad catches Lloyd. Brad gathers some courage and (while blushing profusely) shoves his confession bouquet in Lloyd’s arms. Brad compliments Lloyd for being so brave and pecks Lloyd in the cheek. Brad then quickly thanks Lloyd for believing in him before scurrying away.

Lloyd freezes, putting a hand to his cheek, and that’s when it clicks where he’s in love with Brad. He’s the reddest he’s ever been and walks in a daze back to the others who start teasing and congratulating Lloyd.

Lloyd sends Brad a letter with a couple of pressed flowers and the two awkwardly flirt while talking about hilarious pranks and hijinks the two have in their day to day lives

Unfortunately, Lloyd never has a chance to really act on his feelings because he suddenly finds himself half a decade older and far more responsibilities on his shoulders.

Add a scene where the baby!ninja prove who they say they are by shouting out flowers names which roughly translate to (trust us, we’re your friends, just younger)

Lloyd tells Brad this through a letter, so the two remain friends (while secretly mourning what could’ve been)

From here on out, it’s training, training, training for Lloyd with a smattering of interruptions in between of:

Letters between Lloyd and Brad that are much more stilted and platonic

Lloyd dealing with speedrunning puberty

Lloyd dealing with the stress of the situation via frantically planting

Brad definitely sneaks out of Darkley’s (with a reluctant Gene) to give Lloyd a send off to the Dark Island

The rest of the story I have “plotted out” is just an assortment of moments here and there that aren’t super cohesive and coherent yet. Just know this is a MEGA slow burn. Like the slow burn of the century, folks. (Legit, from my obsessive planning, I figured out they won’t get together waaay until after March of the Oni because Harumi trauma). And when the story isn’t focusing on Brad and Lloyd, it’s found family fluff from both angles of the city (Brad and the family he’s building at Darkley’s and Lloyd and the Ninja).

(Also, I’m sorry Sally fans. I wrote a majority of this AU before Crystalized came out. I’ll figure out how to work her in eventually. But she’ll definitely be one of the boys at Darkley’s and will have a mini coming of age arc in the background of her realization of being transfemme and bisexual [because that’s the only explanation my brain will accept about how a girl ended up in an all-boys school. Because she didn’t know she was a girl to begin with, which: mood])

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