#Kory x reader

[invincibledc]

||BEING THE LITTLE BROTHER OF STARFIRE AND BLACKFIRE HEADCANNONS||

Pair: slight robin x reader and beast boy x reader

Running from home to land onto the planet earth, finding your big sister Starfire! You’re happy, you’re overwhelmed with joy! Your big sister blackfire had lied saying that Starfire had basically died. But now you know it was all a lie.

Speaking the native language of Tamaran, the team was just looking confused. Starfire then pointed to Robin. You nodded with a smile and kissed the boy wonder who seemed shocked. He felt shivers go down his spine when the kiss ended. “Hello friends! I am Y/N!” Robin, still in shock while the others introduced themselves.

It took some time for Robin to observe you, a Tamaranean male who looks similar to Starfire herself. Your outfit was either the same like Starfire’s but masculine or a mixture of whatever you were wearing. Either way, he set you up for a test to see how far you can go. Starfire was so happy to see her friends liking her little brother. She immediately showed you the condiment of mustard, telling you it’s amazing. Robin and the others weee disgusted seeing the alien siblings drink mustard with a happy smile.

Robin is easily impressed by your powers just like Starfire’s, he knows he couldn’t be impressed. But the way you use your powers was just something he couldn’t help but smile.

Robin doesn’t mind you being around, with months going by he still ask how you are doing on earth and how you are.

Robin stares, memorized whenever you pull off a trick you learned yourself

Beast bro is sometimes seen as a small animal on your lap, you let him and coo. Making him rub himself against your body with a goofy smile.

Beast boy jokingly calls you “Prince, my Prince, my majesty.” And such, all because you are also Royal like your sisters. Though he couldn’t help but blush when you kiss his cheek in gratitude for making you laugh.

He’s definitely gonna buy a joke book.

You and Starfire mixed together are a dangerous combo, especially with Tamaranean fighting tactics.

It’s been months with you staying here, Robin didn’t want to immediately make you an official member of the team. But with how you showed your loyalty and love for the team and team members. He pulled you aside, a soft smile on his face as he puts a communicator with a T on it.

You were officially the newest member of the team!

[zyhkoo]

౨ৎ hey everyone!! my inbox is also open for blurbs and asks 🥹🙏 my reqs are open too of course, i’m still new to social media and i want to talk to people, currently doing some reqs and fics so please feel free to fill my inbox 🥰 all the tags i have below are some characters that i really want to do :) im sticking to dc for now, i might add some fandoms soon

[whore-ibly-hot]

THROUGH OUR LORD AND SAVIOR @yanderereblogs THE FACULTY HAVE BEEN FOYND AND RETURNED TO US! PRAISE BE TO REBLOGGERS, SUPPORT YOUR LOCAL ARCHIVISTS!

Yandere Boarding School Part 2, (Faculty)

18+ Minors DNI

Warnings: Multiple yanderes, non-con touching, dub-con, perverted thoughts, obsession, bullying, masturbation, aphrodisiacs, general perversion, dry-humping, voyeurism, controlling behaviors, typical yandere stuff, breeding, smoking, horny posting.

(AN: Part Two has been reuploaded after a takedown, godspeed @yanderereblogs for saving it! Mmmmmm, old men. Everyone pictured as a student is OF LEGAL AGE TUMBLR MODS HOP OFF MY DICK.

Background: Thinking about a Headmasters Son or Daughter!Reader at a private boarding school. For a Fem!Reader, perhaps you're just visiting daddy for the season while he's running the school, or maybe you've been bad, and need more supervision. For a Masc!Reader, it could be the same case, however, with Ridgemoore Academy being an all male school, this makes it easier to imagine a world where reader is allowed in the school. Now, let's focus on the faculty...

◇ Mr. Joel Murphy, who teaches the majority of the 'life skills' classes at the school. The school being all-boys is very traditional, and teaches things like game hunting and orienteering, which is why they hired a manly-man like Joel. If only they knew what a bitter grump he is. An ex-sheriff of the nearby town, he decided to leave the force after realizing there was no real crime in the small, privileged town, and decided to take up an easy job at the school. Unfortunately, he realized his love for camping and hunting is warped into what he considers 'frilly shit for rich little boys'. He's gruff, barking out orders and easily been exasperated at the sheer incompetence of the boys.

"Shoot one quail, and these boys act like they killed a bear..."

He thought about retiring from yet another job, as living on the ritzy campus just doesn't feel like home to him, and lord knows he's not fond of his job. However, things change when you arrive. Whether you're a delinquent or a little more sweet and obedient, he likes you. If you're a delinquent, he likes seeing a little hell-raiser kick up some shit at the fancy school. If you're sweet or shy, he gets protective. Nice youngins' like you shouldn't be thrown in amongst these spoiled weasels.

He's sure to help you if you need it, a gentle hand on your back as his burly chest presses against your shoulder blades, adjusting your position against the butt of a rifle. Standing by while you're on hands and knees trying to light a fire, making sure none of the boys are trying to get a look at your assessts. Not that he isn't going to, but he justifies it to himself as just making sure your school shorts/skirt is regulation. He's protecting your modesty. After class hours, come to him with any issues, or shit, even his room. He'll put on some coffee and ask you to help him create a curriculum that 'reaches the kids', as your father instructed him to. It's cozy, the fancy school adnorments thrown away for medals and plaques, national parks posters and a few old family photos. He'll keep you tucked in on his warm couch while he strays from curriculum talk to stories of his time in the scouts and on the force. Tells you about how much he loves just... laying out under the stars with somebody special, to sit around a campfire with friends, then slyly ask is you've ever had somebody to do that with. He knows you're younger than him, and he struggles with the idea that you won't want him cause of it, so for now, he'll bask in the feeling of seeing you curled up in his room, keeping the idea of picking you up and having you accept his cock to himself. If you can get pregnant, his fists his cock to the thought of that too. He's not some horned up boy, he wants you in the long term.

He looooooves the yearly orienteering final, in which the students in the class are made to go on an actual camping trip. It's possible a tent will 'accidentally' go missing, leaving you to bunk with him. Don't worry, nothing bads gonna happen while you've got this burly bear of a man practically spooning you, warm gut from his dad-bod pressed against you as he tries his best to make sure he doesn't scare you.

"Sorry those damn boys left your tent back at the school, kiddo. I... wouldn't be suprised of one of them did it on purpose, little bastards." He grumbles, hoping you'll take the hint to separate yourself from those immature preps and stick to being with a man who can treat you right. "Remember that lesson from a couple weeks ago, on body heat? I know it's awkward, but we've only got one sleeping bag. You feel like you can trust this old man to keep you warm?" Unfortunately for his ego and trying to keep down his urges, the trees aren't going to be the only wood in the morning.

◇ Mr. Paul Burton, head of the arts department. He's so over this, a once decent artist who dabbled in pop art and theatre only to stop getting gigs and be black-listed after offending several more famous artists, calling their work 'sell-out chic', he's now a burn-out who smokes and ignores his students all class. He's passionate about art, but frankly he doesn't want tow aste his time teaching when he knows these rats are taking his class for easy credit. He's only teaching here to utilize the facilities and studios so he's not living in a van in the Walmart parking lot. A mix of hippie culture, live and let live and cynical burnout, he's so. Fucking. Done. But... maybe you change that for him.

You're interesting, a headmasters child who doesn't fit in to your fathers perfect mold? Maybe a rebellious student who goes against the grain of this perfect school. Or a blooming ray of sunshine in this dark den of privilege and conformist curriculum for the future lawyers of the world. Either way, he's found a new muse. See him after class.

He'll be thrilled if you're into art, let him guide you. Tell him your favorite artists and he'll tell you when he threw up on there shoes by accident in his hey-day. Gossip about a student you don't like, he'll listen while he smokes and tell you about how that guys mom hit on him. He loves to gossip, but he loves to watch you create more. The way your hands shape a vase or brush across a canvas light a fire in him he hasn't felt in a while. He's more willing to forgo the age gap between you, while it's never something he considered before, he knows he's not gonna let go of the one thing that makes him feel like he lives again. Besides, he's always been unconventional.

He'll have you stay after class, maybe he'll have you pose nude for a painting, assuring you it's fins, it's platonic, it's just for the love of art. He chooses and extra large canvas, it lets him paint while he relieves himself as you explain you're getting cold. He'll put on some artsy, silent, black and white film from the 30s, and while you watch and slowly realize it's pornographic, He'll grin to himself while he watches you flush. He'll ask you all sorts of questions about your thoughts on the film, the actors, what they're doing. He really wants to figure out how experienced you are. "What do you think of the composition? It's really carnal, you know?" He puts out his cigarette. "I'm glad I can show this to you, you'll actually appreciate it. You're not giggling like an idiot when some guys penis is out on the screen." He groans, thinking of his other students.

He does actually like one student, though they make an odd pair. Joseph's easily spooked and shy personality clashes with the brash older man's, but he's glad to have someone he can think of as a protege. Someone who loves art as much as him, but get isolated for it. He was doing a portfolio look over when Joseph accidentally turned in the wrong folder. Joseph feels like he might die as Mr. Burton, a man he admires, flips through nude pictures of the object of his affection, and at a distance no less. A part of him wants to rip it away, but he needs this scholarship.

"Please, please, sir! I-I'll never do it again, it was just a phase, I didn't mean for you to see-"

"They're good." Mr. Burton flips through the folder. "Real good. You could really get somewhere with these, maybe not in the fine art scene, but... tell you what." He adjusts his glasses and leans forward on his desk. "We'll do a special session, you and me, yeah? I'll get your friend here, and I'll vouch for your integrity so you can take some less-" he purses his lips. "Stalker-ish pics- Jesus, kid, is that taken from a tree?"

☆ Anatoli Sidorov, probably the best paid staff given how they got him here. He's a Russian coach for a former Olympic Russian swim team, and he joined the prestigious American school to escape shame after he 'resigned' post a doping scandal which he swears he wasn't involved in. (Whether he was or not is your choice.) Still, he's led the boys swim team and track team to nationals several times, and he's a legend among the wealthy benefactors of the school. He's outwardly very serious, hard on his team but respectful of them. He doesn't put up with any unruly or unsportsmanlike behavior from his boys, at least not what he can see. He's very nice deep down, intellectual and funny, though he still struggles with American humor and English.

He adores you when he meets you, milking about with the other students before class. You seem genuinely social, and wanting to fit in. The idea someone could be so welcoming warms his heart. Deep down, he misses his home, and he misses the friends he once had. You're warm, and he likes that. Not to mention, you're a looker. He's embarrassed, especially if you're male, seeing as he never considered swinging the other way, and much less with someone younger. But he can't help but stare when your pretty tits bounce as you run, or the way those jogging shorts hardly conceal your bulge. He even pulled you to the side one to scold you for not wearing regulation gym clothes, before realizing they were and awkwardly sending you back into class. That was a moment of self-reflection for him.

He's not necessarily outwardly softer to you, you might even think he doesn't like you, given that he has you stay late to run or jump rope, or constantly pulls you into time out mid-game. It's all for your own good, trust him. He doesn't like the way some of the boys were looking at you, and he could tell Evan was a only a play away from trying to practically hump you while trying to 'get the ball'. He's made Harrison, who he loves as a player, run laps for talking to you for only a few minutes. He hates feeling like a jealous boy, but he can't help it. You make him feel young.

He establishes a private locker room area for you, since you're the headmasters kid and not an official student. Besides, you're clearly being harassed by the others! So, he's got a nice little closet for you, with a not suspicious air freshener that's not a hidden camera, and a private key only you have access to. (Technically that's true, he just has a bypass key for himself.) He'll snatch a pair of boxers or some panties, slipping them into his track coat for later. Eventually, he'll tell you he's worried you aren't able to catch up to the others, given that you arrived later and started the gym curriculum later than the others. He'll start having extra 'make-up' workouts with you, starting with stretching. One leg uo on the bar, you'll have to excuses his cold hand running along your thigh, or stroking over your chest as him just admiring how your strength and flexibility is evolving. He relishes the feeling of your body on his, groping you under the guise of training and resisting the urge to just slip aside your gym shorts and veg you to take him.

"Little star, part 'dem a little, there ve go." He keeps your legs parted as he works you into a position on your back, against the rubber mats the tumbling team had laid out. He lays just over you, pushing your legs back a little further with his arms, just far away enough to keep you from noticing his hard on, but enough to lightly press it against the plush swell of your ass. Good, let's just- fuck- hold. Let's hold."

☆ Kory Koffman, English teacher and part time librarian! The school outs so much effort into sports, both admin and students seem to forget about him. Hell, the library is used so little they fired the librarian, and he took it upon himself to try and care for the building himself. He's a sweet, shy man, who just wants to share his passion for literature with others. However, unlike Mr. Burton, he was never popular or famous, so he's content to keep to himself, but the loneliness does get to him.

When you wandered into his library one day, maybe looking for a book or seeking refuge from a hoarde ofadmirers, he was happy to welcome you into his little safe haven. He'll give you some warm tea from the little coffee machine he has set up, and sit you down. Let him help you find a book, or tell you about his creative writing class? He'd let you join, even late in the semester! It's not a very full class.

For the first time in his life, he finds himself craving the attention of another, of someone else's company, other than his books. He hasn't felt that need for connection since he was a boy, after his momma passed. He'll do anything to keep you there, and if reading isn't your thing, much to his chagrin, he'll add a DVD section to the library, but only good films and classic for you! No Adam Sandler, those movies are to overstimulating for poor Mr. Koffman.

As his feelings turn romantic, he's ashamed. You're a student, and he's a lonely old man, you deserve someone better, someone your age. However, the thought of you being with any of the many students who mock him in the halls or disrupt his class, the thought of hand you over to those-those imbeciles, hurts him. He wants you, and he's ashamed at the way his trousers go tight when you bend over to get a fallen book, or when you hand him his glasses after he misplaced them (again), the fact he just stares at your finger prints for awhile and refuses to clean the lens. He's not had sex in a long, long time, but he finds himself masturbating more than he ever did when he was younger. He'll watch library security footage openly, moaning and whimpering at his desk with no fear anybody will stop in, no one ever does but you. He wants you as his spouse, you already make his library, his home away from home seem brighter, imagine what you could do for his actual apartment.

"Oh, hello! It's good to see you, it's been a bit." He's a little bitter at that last statement, but adjusts his glasses and continues. "Just remember to stop by often, okay? I'd really, really hate to impose the late policy on you..."

☆ Atticus Critch, the schools latin instructor and head sponsor of student body, (not to mention the man in charge of detention), is a strict disciplinarian. He takes no nonsense from anyone, and despises the behavioral pardons given to boys like Evan or Harrison simply because they are athletes. Peter is obviously his favorite, and when he catches wind of the ways the boys around campus are speaking about you, he decides to take it upon himself to remove the distraction, by having Carter trail you and give you detention for minor inconveniences. Carter isn't particularly thrilled at always having to send you to detention instead of extorting you to get his rocks off, but he's hoping maybe he'll get to 'monitor' detention one of these days.

Initially, Mr. Critch has you doing small tasks, writing lines or organizing things, but soon he starts to see the appeal. If you're a good student for the most part, he's determined to keep you good, and away from all the vermin in this school. If you're bad, he's had plenty of experience in taming brats. He's open with his sexual desires, it his growing affection for you that makes him struggle.

If you've stayed out too late and broke curfew, you can spend detention on your knees, suckling his cock into the late hours. Maybe you've been running around with Tyler. He'll make you lay down on his desk and deny you your climax over and over again, asking 'if not making you cum' is what that boy does to you, never fully satisfying you. He'll make you beg to finish, and to promise you'll be good from now on.

"Come on, repeat it. Tell me you'll be good now, that you won't bother with BOYS-" He annuciates with a thrust, "When you have a man right here, whose willing to take time out of his day to discipline you!" One the amorous session is over though, he definitely softens, trying to prove he's more than a boy in many ways, including good aftercare. He'll dress your limp form back up in your uniform and walk you get you a cup of water from the fountain. "Only ten minutes till your detention is over, dear. Just sit there, take some time to reflect on how you got here." His tone is demeaning, but as he pets your scalp, his touch is so feather-light. Don't expect is to last into the next day though.

[maryjayden]

men WILL get pregnant. #KeepPounding

[sleepingdiaryzzz]

I loved your defiant darling for your nightwing x reader x star fire series

Can I request maybe a darling who after being kidnapped starfire maybe tries to do their makeup or their hair because they think their depressed after being kidnapped

ᴘᴀɪɴᴛᴇᴅ ʙɪʀᴅ

ɴɪɢʜᴛᴡɪɴɢ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ x sᴛᴀʀғɪʀᴇ (ʏ)

I shall return 🙌

ᴍᴏʀᴇ ʜᴇʀᴇ!

The room smelled like vanilla and something floral, sweet in a way that clung to the air, thick as honey. It wasn’t yours. You didn’t own anything that smelled this soft, this saccharine. Your things smelled like detergent, like soap and the fleeting ghost of fresh air from when you could still crack open a window and decide how much of the world you wanted to let in. Here, the air was controlled. Stagnant. Even the artificial light was curated, warm enough to feel like a sunset but never dim enough to invite the comfort of darkness.

It was a prison dressed in soft linens and foreign perfumes, and Kory had the audacity to hum while she rifled through her little acrylic containers of makeup.

“You are looking most sad,” she said, eyes flicking to yours in the mirror, half-lidded and unreadable. “Dick worries.”

It wasn’t a question.

She picked up something small and glossy—a tube of pinkish-gold—before setting it down and reaching for something darker.

“I do not believe the sadness is good for you,” she continued, tone light, like she was discussing something as inconsequential as a rain forecast. “Your body is unhappy. Your shoulders are tense. Your lips are dry.” Her eyes flicked back to the mirror, assessing. “This shade would be very nice on you, I think.”

You didn’t respond. It was easier not to. Easier to stare at the mirror with the kind of dull resentment that made your bones feel old, aching under the weight of fury that had nowhere to go.

Dick had tried to talk to you earlier. He had that damn patience, the kind that stretched and stretched like old elastic, never quite snapping. He’d sat on the couch, all loose limbs and easy charm, something bright in his eyes that never matched the sharpness of his mind. He had always been too good at talking. Always been too good at getting people to listen.

“You can be angry,” he had told you, voice softer than you wanted it to be. “But you have to understand that we’re doing this for you.”

And Kory—Kory, who was strong enough to tear through metal like paper but touched you like spun glass—was here, running a warm hand over your temple, brushing a stray strand of hair away before pressing something cool against your cheek.

Foundation. Or concealer. Some liquid thing meant to even out your skin tone, to smooth over imperfections, to make you presentable.

“You will feel better when you see how beautiful you are,” she assured, her smile unwavering, her fingers too gentle, too warm. “When you look good, you feel good, yes?”

The laugh that tore from your throat was sharp and humorless.

“Kory,” you said, flat and dull, staring past her to your own reflection. “I’ve been kidnapped.”

Her expression didn’t change. Not really. A flicker of something, maybe. Something too brief to catch before it smoothed back into certainty.

“I know,” she said, voice still light, still sweet. “That is why you are sad.”

Not because your freedom had been stolen. Not because Dick had taken away your phone and Kory had melted the lock on the door and their eyes were always on you, tracking your movements, patient, unwavering, like you were something fragile.

You let out a slow breath, something cold curling in your chest. “I’m not playing along with this.”

She hummed again, pressing her thumb against your jaw, tilting your face a little more toward her. “You do not have to. I will take care of it for you.”

The thing in your chest coiled tighter.

Her grip was light, but you knew, in the same way you knew how fire burned and ice numbed, that it didn’t have to be. If you jerked away, if you tried to move, she could hold you still like it was nothing.

But she wouldn’t.

Because she thought this was love.

Because she thought she was taking care of you.

Because she thought sadness was something that could be brushed away with mascara and foundation and the careful sweep of blush over your cheekbones.

Kory was still talking, something about color palettes and how your undertones suited golds and warm shades, and you wondered if she actually believed this would help or if she just wanted to make you easier to look at.

You let your eyes drift back to the mirror, to the way her fingers moved, precise and delicate, like she was painting something that belonged to her.

The air still smelled too sweet.

And when the door creaked open and Dick stepped in, blue eyes scanning, assessing, always watching, the thing in your chest curled so tight it hurt.

[caelivir]

Um um.....Miya atsumu Long way 2 go -- Casie

And and trope- enemies to lovers??

Also I love your writing👾👾

now playing: long way 2 go by casie

atsumu? this song? enemies to lovers? i think you just sent me to heaven. i don't think you understand how hard i'm geeking right now. i keep whisper screaming "YOU'RE A GENIUS". and thank you!

content. rich boy!miya atsumu x fem!reader, atsumu’s lowkey a downbad loser, tension (at least i hope it is) | wc. 905

atsumu thinks he's hot shit. you know of plenty of guys his type. how could you not? your school is full of them. they think their good looks and endless pockets let them get away with anything. there’s so many of them, but out of all of them, the one you despise the most is atsumu.

you’ve never met someone with an ego so inflated that it rivaled the size of earth. there’s no one who makes you want to tear out your own nerves out more than him.

atsumu is well-aware that you loathe him. he hates you just as much, but instead of ignoring you like a normal person does, he discovers new ways to tick you off. he's like a bacteria who's always finding a way to invade your system.

and now you’re stuck with this damn vermin in a tight, janitorial closet, and it’s his fault.

“be honest. are you an imbecile? like were you dropped as a baby? how do you miss the sign that said, ‘lock broken. leave door open if inside.’?” you fume in the dark.

“do ya ever shut yer mouth?” you don’t need to see atsumu to visualize the harsh glare he has. you can hear his hands fumbling around, searching for any kind of light switch.

you scoff. “oh that’s loaded coming for you. thanks to you, we’re missing class right now!”

at that moment, you hear a click, and a warm light fills the room. you never realized how close atsumu actually was. his body is nearly pressed against yours, his arm hanging above from when he pulled the cord of the light bulb down.

atsumu’s eyes are just as wide as yours, and he backs up, even if it’s only a mere step before his back crashes into a shelf of cleaning supplies that clatter upon contact.

you wince. “do i repulse you that much?”

atsumu doesn’t give you the grace of responding, narrowing his eyes at you as straightens his back, rolling back his shoulders in the limited space he has. when he loosens the tie of his school uniform, you stare at the hand tugging it down, veins prominent on his skin.

the action was… hot… to say the least. your hand twitches like it wants to slap you for ever thinking that.

“you don’t.”

“what?”

atsumu looks annoyed at the fact that he has to repeat himself but he does anyway. “you don’t… repulse me.”

“not true. you actively try to make my life hell every single day. no sane person does that unless they absolutely despise someone.” you correct, chuckling without humor.

“i…” the sentence crumbles in his throat. you see a blush creep up on his neck. the rosy pink reaches the tips of his ears. he turns his head away as if he were ashamed.

you laugh. now this is a sight, miya atsumu actually being embarrassed. you want to push this, see how far you can go.

“what is it, miya?” you tease, taking a step closer to invade his space. “cat got your tongue?”

atsumu backs up even further into the shelves. you’re sure it’s digging into his back. he gulps at the sight of you.

“do i make you nervous?” you trail your finger on his tie. atsumu follows the motion until it leads his back up to your eyes.

he burns a brighter red. “like hell i do.”

it hits you then.

oh.

oh.

“you hate me.” you breathe out in a whisper. “and you like me.”

atsumu tenses like you just caught him in an act, like you just announced it to the entire freaking world. you wrap your hand around his loose tie. once. twice.

“you’re so pathetic.”

it’s the last thing you utter before you’re tugging him by his tie, pressing your lips to his. atsumu’s reaction is immediate, resting his hands on your hips, bunching up the skirt of your uniform.

he wants more. you can sense it by the way his hands are slipping down to your thighs, and because of it, you pull away. atsumu chases after your lips, but you slightly pull your head back. you see the annoyance in his eyes.

you pull him again by his tie again, this time bringing his ear by your mouth. “don’t get it twisted, miya. you still piss me off, but i’m a firm believer of thinking that things can change. you want me? work for it. earn it. ‘cause the way you are now you’re still a long way from having me.”

the door to the closet swings open suddenly, flooding the room with a light brighter than the one shining over your heads.

“damn kids,” the janitor grumbles. “what the hell are you doing in here? you’re here at best school in the country and don’t know how to read, even skipping class. unbelievable.”

you smile, unraveling your hand from atsumu’s tie. “sorry for the inconvenience, sir. my friend here will pay you for the trouble we caused. consider it a token of appreciation for keeping our prestigious school so clean and beautiful, if you know what i mean.”

the janitor is practically bubbling with joy the moment he comprehends the meaning behind your words. atsumu glares at you like you’re unbelievable. you only wink, waving goodbye and blowing a kiss as you saunter down the hall, the fire of atsumu’s lips still lingering on yours.

[gunslingrr]

Toji being an EATER. I’m talking face deep in it, sloppy, and munching like it’s this man’s last meal on earth.

He’d def have a grip on your thighs to keep you pinned so you won’t move from his relentless action. He’d mumble something like “quit movin’.” But he words are muffled cause he’s quite literally tongue deep in your cunt.

And trust me, you’d be there for a while. No matter how many times you cum he’d still keep going until he’s had enough.

After he’s had enough, he’d press kisses on your shoulders, face, and neck while telling you how good of a job you did.

I need him so bad.

© gunslingrr . do not copy, translate, modify, or reupload my work.

[anxiousnerdwritings]

DC Comics Masterlist II

Headcanons

Yandere Barry Allen (general) [coming soon]

Yandere Bruce Wayne w/ Sibling!Reader He Adopted Himself (platonic)

Yandere Bruce Wayne w/ Ex-Wife!Reader (romantic) [coming soon]

Yandere Clark Kent w/ Kid!Reader who doesn’t like him (platonic) [coming soon]

Yandere Kory Anders/Starfire (general) [coming soon]

Yandere Ra’s al Ghul w/ Damian’s!Twin!Reader (platonic) [coming soon]

Blurbs/Imagines/Fics/ect

Entrapment [Yandere!Bruce Wayne w/ Ex-Wife!Reader](romantic/NSFW)

💕Love Letters💕

Yandere Damian Wayne to Jokerized!Twin!Reader [coming soon]

[gilverrwrites]

Can I request dickkori throuple shenanigans? Them hearing/seeing you, who's fairly shy around them so they've never really gotten a solid feel on if you're romantically interested, say something absolutely heinously horny on main while you don't realize they are right there watching/hearing you embarrassing yourself. "I have a thirst that can only be quenched by sucking the sweat out of Nightwings jockstrap after a particularly active patrol" level thirsting. "Can I just have a SIP of Starfires bathwater. Please God I'll never ask for anything else ever 🙏🏽" while you're too shy to ever say anything to their faces but they're right there tittering to themselves just out of your line of sight hoping you'll keep going about how you want to sink your teeth into the both of them

𝓣𝓻𝓾𝓽𝓱 𝓸𝓻 𝓭𝓪𝓻𝓮?

DickKory/Reader, ≈ 900 words, ft. Arsenal A/N: If you saw this posted without any text no you didn't. I defo did not accidentally his 'post now' instead of 'save' while editing, so I had copy paste the ask into my inbox and re-edit all my colourful lettering again. Nope. It's also totally not like my 3/4th time doing that lol. Also, hey Starfire anon, was this you?

“Truth.”

“Chicken.” Arsenal eyes you judgmentally over the rim of his non-alcoholic beer. “Nightwing or Starfire?”

It’s telling to everyone in the vicinity that you don’t even wait for context before you groan petulantly; “What? Just one? That’s an impossible choice!”

Normally, you’re not so forthcoming, but Arsenal seems to have lucked out on catching you in a chatty mood. The perceived privacy of the towers' rec room at 1 AM, and your choice of drink probably have something to do with it too.

“I mean, have you seen them both? Like Nightwing, have you seen him after battle? I swear, just looking at him evokes a thirst in me that can only be quenched by sucking the sweat out of his jockstrap.” Self-consciousness trickles the back of your psyche as the words leave your lips but the memories of Dick post-fight; emboldened by victory as sweat causes his dark hair to stick to his face, his body shaking from exhilaration, is enough to keep you from shying away from your statement.

The look on Arsenal’s face has shifted, from judgment to intrigue. His brow arches, a cheeky smile on his lips as he probes for more, a chuckle underlining his words. “Yeah? An’ Star?”

“Heh, Star? Fuck.” You sip at your drink, parching your dried lips as you search for the words to describe your team's very own warrior princess. “Earth doesn’t make them like that.”

“Noooo, they don’t.” Arsenal agrees. Briefly sharing that same, dreamy, far-off look that adorns your face. “I’d be a dead man after one day on Tamaran, that’s for sure.”

“Same. But if I’ve gotta go, I wanna be drowned in a tub of Starfire’s bathwater. It’s the only way I would die happy.”

Laughter fills the room, Arsenal letting out a contagious full-belly chuckle that infects you, but your head is too full with thoughts of Starfire; naked and relaxed, her sunset skin gleaning in a pool of soapy bubbles, how she might sound humming in delight as she eases her muscles under the hot water, to notice the sound two more voices not to far away.

It’s Arsenal whose demeanour changes first. The smile on his lips shifting from humorous to mischievous as he cocks his head to the side, turning so one ear it closer to the door. Your smile, on the other hand, wavers to an open jaw as you mimic his actions and register the familiar sound of Nightwing and Starfire tittering between themselves.

For a moment, you’re able to delude yourself into believing that they’re simply laughing among themselves over something else, something related to whatever conversation they were having on their way over here. But as you shift to face the door, you see them both through its crack. Starfire, with her big, shining green eyes, stares right back at you, her pointed fingernails pressed to her full lips in an attempt to stifle her smile.

Nightwing is right beside her, his lips pressed to her ear, making no attempt to hide his conceited grin as he leans up to whisper something conspiratorial in her ear.

A flush is already seeping through your body as you come to terms with the situation, but then Nightwing turns his gaze to you. His eyes are concealed by his mask, but his intentions are as bright as Starfire’s aura, made apparent by the provocative way he bites his lower lip beneath his left canine. The combined heat of their attention, especially after what you’d been caught saying is enough to set your skin completely ablaze, from the tips of your ears, right down to your toes.

In a panic, you stand, almost spilling your drink in your frenzy, but managing to catch it at the last second. “I- um- haha- That… that was… I think it’s time for me to go to bed. Good night, Arsenal.” Feeling awkward and unsure of your actions, for some reason, you bow to your truth or dare buddy instead of giving him the nod you’d intended.

It’s not until you turn your attention back to the door that you realise you have to pass by the very subject of your humiliation in order to make your exit.

“Hey! You never actually answered my question.” Arsenal goads as you hesitate, feet scuffing against the polished stone flooring.

Though it adds to the pit in your stomach, that last poke to the fire is what you needed to kick you into gear again. With a deep breath to steady yourself, you march through the door, drink still in hand as you tell Arsenal to “Shut the fuck up!”

“Goodnight, Star, Nightwing.” You offer the couple a stiff farewell without making eye contact, before continuing down the hall.

Each footstep makes a deafening echo as flee, but the sound is not nearly as heart-stopping as the melodic sound of Starfire calling your name. You don’t have the courage to turn around and face either of them, but you come to a standstill and wait apprehensively for her to continue.

“Do you wish to take a bath before bed?” The playfulness in her tone is subtle, but undeniable. “If so, we would not want for you to drown in it. Perhaps you would appreciate our assistance.”

[gothamhappiness]

Jason *starting his skincare routine before noticing Dick entering his flat through the open window*: What do you want, Dickhead?! I'm busy right now.

Dick *about to say something but starting to laugh instead*: Wait, do you have a skincare routine or something??

Jason: And so what, asshole?

Dick: I just... didn't picture you like that kind of guy. But I'm glad you're taking care of yourself!

Jason *shrugging*: You know, that way Y/N has a nice place to sit on.

Dick:

Dick: Fuck, I need to do the same for Kory.

--

Taglist for all my work <3

@blublock404

@wind-canoe

[invincibledc]

||STARFIRE X FEM! TWIN READER OF ROBIN/DICK GRAYSON||

imagine female!reader who is also a sidekick for Batman, being a team with the teen titans. Being second in command by her twin brother dick Grayson Aka Robin. As reader goes on with her life in the teen titans tower and missions. She fails to realize that a certain Tamaranean female is certainly crushing on her. Starfire is amazed at how brave the female Robin is, always facing danger with a smile and always making sure the alien girl is okay.

Starfire always wraps her arm with reader’s arm. Dick teases reader that Starfire is basically reader’s girlfriend. Reader denies this out loud, making Starfire frown. Reader tries to talk to Starfire after this, Starfire only walks away with sadness. Battles with the team don’t go well, as Starfire can’t help but look at reader and immediately frown thinking about how their relationship with each other is going.

Robin forces his twin sister to go talk with the alien girl. Reader sighs and goes to Starfire, Starfire had her head in her pillow, frowning. That was before the knowing voice of the girl who basically rejected her called her name. Starfire tries to ignore the voice, but she misses her girl. She opens her door and there is the female Robin holding flowers. “I’m sorry. I…I hope you would forgive m—” the female Robin didn’t get a chance to apologize as Starfire kisses the female passionately. The female Robin’s eyes are blown out wide. Starfire then breaks the kiss. “I am thankful for the flowers and your admiration.” She says softly, taking the flowers from the shocked Robin. She then closed her door at the room, she couldn’t help but smile and smell the flowers

[kisses-for-you]

pref: they accidentally hurt you

titans characters x fem!reader

characters: Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Gar Logan, Conner Kent, Hank Hall, Kory Anders & Donna Troy.

Dick Grayson:

You and Dick had gotten into an argument and it was getting heated. He was risking the team's life by making stupid and reckless decisions, or at least that's what they were in your opinion.

Without thinking, you yell, "You don't have to risk everyone's lives just because Jason died and you think it's your fault!"

SLAP!

Dick's hand makes contact with your face as he slaps you in a fit of rage. The room seems to freeze as Dick's eyes widen with horror at the realisation of what he's just done. Your hand instinctively reaches to your cheek, the hurt in your eyes making your boyfriend feel even more guilty.

Dick immediately recoils, his expression shifting from anger to deep regret. "Fuck. Y/N, I... I didn't mean to," he stammers, his voice filled with remorse. He takes a step back, grappling with the weight of his actions. His eyes search yours, pleading for forgiveness, but the pain in your gaze is palpable.

Dick takes a hesitant step forward. "I didn't mean to hurt you. Y/N, I'm so fucking sorry," he murmurs, regret etched across his face. He reaches out to cup your cheek, however, fear grips you, and you instinctively shrink back, avoiding his touch.

"I need some space," you finally manage to say, your voice trembling with a mix of fear and sadness. He nods solemnly, understanding he fucked up badly.

-

Jason Todd:

You and Jason were training and since you were still fairly new to the team, you thought it'd be nice to train with Jason as you're the closest with him.

You're meant to block his hits but as the bo staff heads your way, you hesitate for some reason and react too late, resulting in Jason accidentally hurting you as the staff strikes you. It's just a small mistake and it doesn't hurt too badly but he immediately rushes to your side.

"Shit. Babe, are you okay?" His concerned expression mirrors his regret. You give him a small, reassuring smile, saying, "Yeah, I'm fine. It's probably just a small bruise anyway. Let's just get back to training."

He shakes his head, still looking guilty even though it wasn't his fault. "No, let's just finish here. You shouldn't keep training if you're hurt. We can always train tomorrow," Jason insists, genuine concern in his eyes. You know there's no point in arguing with him, so you just sigh and nod.

-

Gar Logan:

You and Gar were alone in the Titans Tower, where Gar was struggling to stay in his human form. He was incredibly upset (you didn't know why) and his intense emotions were causing him to shapeshift into an animal, which he was trying to prevent.

"Y/N.. You need to.. go," he whispers, his voice strained as he tries to fight against the transformation. Concern etched across your face, you refuse to leave his side. You assure him, "Gar, I'm not leaving you alone like this."

You try to reach out to touch his trembling hand, but before you can make contact, Gar involuntarily shifts into a green tiger. In his tiger form, Gar loses control and accidentally swipes at you with his claws. The scratch isn't too deep, but it's enough to draw blood and sting, causing you to step back in shock. Gar, now more distressed, manages to regain control, turning back into his human form as he apologizes frantically.

"Fuck, Y/N, I'm so sorry. I- I lost control. I didn't mean to hurt you," he stammered, rushing to your side, panic etched across his face.

You assess the scratch on your arm, trying to downplay the pain, not wanting to make him feel worse. "Gar, it's okay. It wasn't your fault. Besides, it doesn't even hurt that bad."

Gar, tormented by guilt, searches for a first aid kit in the Tower. As he tends to your wound, you insist that it wasn't his fault, attempting to calm him in his distressed state. While Gar is patching up your wound, you notice a mixture of guilt and fear in his eyes. You gently take his hand and reassure him, "Gar, accidents happen. Don't blame yourself." Despite your comforting words, Gar remains visibly distraught, haunted by the fear of potentially causing you harm again.

-

Conner Kent:

Conner had just returned from a mission with the Titans. He looked exhausted but relieved as he walked through the door. You greeted him with a warm smile, knowing how tiring his superhero responsibilities could be.

As Conner hugged you, his thoughts wandered to what happened during the mission. He started to get lost in his thoughts, and his strength momentarily slipped out of his control. He squeezed you too tightly, causing you to wince as the force of the hug became too much. You were left in a little pain, and probably with a bruise. Conner looked concerned as you pulled away, realising what he had just done.

"I'm so sorry, Y/N. I don't know what happened. I started thinking about the mission and then I just..." Conner rambled, trying to explain and apologize to you. But you interrupted him and said, "Conner, it's okay. I know you didn't mean to. Don't worry about it." No matter how much you try to reassure Conner, however, he still feels guilty and blames himself for hurting you, even if it was accidental.

For the next couple of weeks, he's extra careful around you and way more gentle. He also tries to find ways to make it up to you; he doesn't need to though because you know he didn't mean to do what he did.

-

Hank Hall:

You and Hank had been watching a football match on TV together, enjoying the rare day off. As Hank headed to the kitchen to grab you both a drink and some snacks, an idea sparked in your mind. You decided you were going to scare him; it was a fairly innocent idea.

Within a couple of seconds, you start to tiptoe after him, planning to playfully surprise him. You just wanted to see his reaction so you could make fun of him if he screamed like a girl (you never know, he might). As you reach the kitchen door, you take a deep breath, preparing to unleash your surprise.

However, as you sneak up behind him and scream, Hank's reflexes kick in. In an instant, he spins around, his combat instincts taking over. Before either of you can even realise what's happening, his hand shoots out and strikes you right in the face. A gasp escapes your lips as you feel the sudden impact.

Time seems to freeze for a moment as you both register what just happened. Hank's eyes widen in shock and horror as he sees you wince from the unintentional blow. Concern fills Hank's eyes as he drops whatever he is holding in his hands, rushing to your side. "Oh fuck, babe, I'm so sorry! Are you okay?" he blurts out, panic evident in his voice.

You hold your nose, pretty sure you have a nosebleed. "I'm... okay." As the initial shock wears off, you can't help but let out a nervous laugh. "At least now we know that your instincts are top-notch," you quip, trying to lighten the mood despite the pain you're feeling. You move your hand away from your face, revealing a trickle of blood from your nose. Hank winces, guilt written all over his face.

He quickly grabs a tissue from the nearby counter, handing it to you with a mix of concern and remorse in his eyes. "I didn't mean to... I just thought..." Hank stammers, struggling to find the right words to express his regret. You take the tissue and give him a reassuring smile, realizing it was just an unfortunate accident.

"It's okay, Hank. It was my idea to scare you like that so if anything, it's my fault," you say, dabbing at your nose. Despite the pain, you can't help but appreciate the genuine worry in his eyes.

-

Kory Anders:

You and the Titans were preparing for another battle against an intimidating villain who was threatening the city of San Francisco. You were standing by Kory's side, your heart pounding with a mix of fear and excitement. Tonight, the stakes were higher than ever before. The villain, known as Mother Mayhem, was ready to unleash chaos upon the city. Kory's eyes were glowing with determination as she walked towards the impending threat. You followed closely, aware of the danger that awaited you.

As the confrontation continues, Mother Mayhem launches a devastating attack that catches both you and Kory off guard. In a moment of panic, Kory's powers surge uncontrollably, and a burst of energy erupts from her, unintentionally striking you. The impact sends you flying to the ground and pain radiates through your body.

Kory's eyes widen in horror as she realises what just happened. She rushes to your side, leaving the rest of the Titans to deal with the threat. Her concern is evident in every step. "I-I'm so sorry," she stammered, kneeling beside you. "I didn't mean to hurt you." Despite the pain, you manage a weak smile, reaching out to reassure her. "It's okay, Kory. Accidents happen. Besides, we have a more important matter at hand," you say, referring to the villain you're currently fighting.

"I promise, I'll control my powers better next time," she vows, gently cradling you in her arms. She then stops to think, unsure of whether you should get back to the fight in your condition. "Are you sure you want to fight? I don't think that's the best idea for you right now, Y/N."

You nod, determination flickering in your eyes despite the pain. "I'll be fine, Kory. Just a little shaken, but I can still help. We need to stop her before things get worse." Reluctantly, Kory lets you go, her worry etched across her face. She stands up, taking a moment to make sure you're stable before rejoining the battle. 

-

Donna Troy:

You and Donna were strolling through through the dimly lit alleyways of the city. As you turned a corner, a group of menacing thugs emerged from the shadows, surrounding you both. Donna's grip on your hand tightened instinctively as she stepped forward, ready to defend you from the impending threat.

Donna's eyes narrow, her instincts kicking in. She swiftly reaches for her lasso, the golden glow illuminating the dark alley. But you find yourself in the line of fire without even noticing. A sudden movement from one of the thugs causes you to stumble, and in an attempt to protect you, Donna swings her lasso with lightning speed. However, the unexpected jolt of the situation results in her accidentally striking you instead of the intended target.

Time seems to slow as the golden rope wraps around you, the energy coursing through your body. A surge of pain shoots through your veins, and you gasp as the unexpected impact takes you by surprise. Donna's eyes widen in horror as she realises her mistake, immediately releasing the lasso. The thugs seem to take this as a chance to run and escape. Stunned and in pain, you stagger backwards, clutching the area where the lasso struck you. Donna rushes to your side, her concern evident in her eyes. "Fuck. Y/N, I'm so sorry," she murmurs, her voice filled with regret.

As Donna checks on you, you assure her that you're okay, though the pain still lingers. The two of you decide to go back to her apartment to assess the situation and tend to your injuries. Donna's guilt is palpable, but you understand it was an accident in the heat of the moment. Together, you make your way back, Donna keeping a protective arm around you.

-

[whore-ibly-hot]

Y'all remember Kory Koffman that soft English Teacher? Dawg, I don't know if I should hug and squeeze the air out of that or give him the most sloppiest slop ever. Either way, I love men like that.

"I appreciate this, so, so much you couldn't possibly understand..." He whispering out rambling statements. The occasional moan that slips from his lips he always manages to stifle by biting down lightly on his index finger, hands gripping the hard mahogany desk behind him.

He wants to make eye contact so bad, but he knows the sight of his perfect favorite student on their knees, suckling at his cock, would make him blow immediately, ruining the experience he wished he could make last forever. "Its been a long time." He admits. "A really long time since I've gotten to do anything like this; since anyone's done anything like this to me." He chuckles weakly, removing his fogged up glasses and setting them on the desk. "Being cooped up in here all day, as much as I love it doesn't leave me a lot of time to go out and pursue... other things." He admits.

A sudden hollowing of your cheeks makes him grian, failing to stifle it this time. "God, this is so good, shit, whew-" He's trying to keep it down. "I'm getting close, if you w-wanr me finishing elsewhere you have to pull off now." He warns, and the glance up you give him, pretty wet eyes, your refusal to move, make his cock twitch. It's over for him, and he lets out not a moan, but the most pitiful little squeak you've heard. "Shit!" He yells, immediately slapping his hand over his mouth as he bucks against your mouth, trying his best not to gag you.

He can't even bare to look as you swallow, he's sensitive, he doesn't want to go again but he knows if he sees that it'll all rush back to his now limp cock. Closing his eyes, a bead of sweat rolls down his forehead. "Thank you, tha k you again." After a moment, he's hears a shuffling fabric. He winces momentarily at the idea you're already getting up to go, when he feels a pressure on his chest. Fumbling for his glasses and sliding them on, he sees you leaned on him, arms around his waist in a soft hug.

He's worried at first. "Oh, my dear, oh no..." He strokes your back out of instinct. "Did i hurt you, or bruise you, I really didn't mean to; what do you need, what do you-"

You just look up at him, not hurt or crying "Tired." You mumble. "I'm tired, just sleepy." You explain.

He nods in understanding, releasing a breath in relief. "I see. You want me to move you to the couch by my desk. No one comes in at this time of night, I could let you rest while I finish up some work-"

"Wanna stay here." You mumble, yawning into his chest and muffling your sounds against his thick sweater vest. His face goes red, somehow more embarrassed by this than the public act of intimacy from earlier. He smiles, its giddy. He slowly lifts shaky hands to press you closer into him.

"Yeah. That can be arranged too."

[harlotistic]

I didn’t want to hijack that puppy girl post with my foolishness so here I am!!

when zayne first got his puppy girl, he took a few days off so she could get acclimated to her new living space. so now he has to go back to work, zayne doesn’t show it but he is nervous about leaving his pup all alone but she promises to be on her best behaviour.

He ends up coming home later than he expected. he’s expecting his pup to be in her bed, fast asleep like a good girl, she did promise to be good and they always go to bed at the same time.

but as soon as he unlocks his front door, he’s greeted with a huge mess. Her plushies all over the floor. Multiple cups of milk tea on the table (she can only have 1 per day!), open bags of snacks that she started eating but gave up in the middle of it. Zayne even meal prepped for her and she still only ate snacks!

he doesn’t expect his pup to greet him at the door, so he heads to her room first to check on her. her bed is empty. she wasn’t in the living room. he checks the kitchen, no pup. he checks outside, knowing how much she loves that porch swing, no pup. the only other place she can be is his room.

which she was. his pup was in his bed, chewing on his pillow. she missed zayne so much she was taking out her anger on his belongings. zayne doesn’t like getting mad, heart disease or other illnesses blah blah blah. but when zayne takes off his glasses and pinches the bridge of his nose, it’s clear he’s just a bit… frustrated. His dirty hamper pushed over on the floor, his dirty clothes on his bed. his pup def chewed on his boxers because she liked the way smelled. 

zayne’s like “what are you doing?” There’s stuffing all over the bed, the pillowcase is torn. Her ears perk up as she hears zayne’s voice and she immediately rushing towards him, trying to jump into his arms and give him puppy kisses but zayne places his hands on her shoulders to maintain a distance between them—even if he is happy to see her too. 

“no kisses. you made a mess.” for a minute, her ears droop. and her little pout tugs at his heartstrings because she’s just too cute to be mad at. 

but zayne knows he has to nip this behaviour in the bud. zayne’s scolding her about the mess she’s made, all he gets in return in twitchy ears, head tilts, and a tail that just won’t stop wagging. she’s definitely playing dumb because she knows zayne won’t punish her. 

and it’s so hard to stay upset when she looks so cute. and maybe it’s not a really big mess. and maybe his pup didn’t know what she was doing… zayne finally ends up relenting, falling back on the bed and letting his little puppy give him all the kisses she wants. after all it’s been a long day and all he wants to do is cuddle with his sweet girl and relax. 

(post) i saw your notif in my inbox and had the biggest most diabolical grin known to mankind 👹 thank you for feeding into my love for hybrids hehe (sighing zayne's name dreamily. he is the bestest soft dom ever. also sub but that's for another day) consider this a gift extension of love and freakyness whimsy before i go on smut break.

#1 puppygirl dad

cw. puppy hybrid!reader, use of daddy, size kink, smut, oral, fingering, tba

i definitely see zayne being the softest puppy dad ever as much as he is a neat freak, he is also the softest when it comes to his little puppy girl. you. but he is a man of discipline and restraint. which meant that after cuddles and a good sleep, you were going to have to fix your mess.

zayne would help you get dressed in your cute dress with the apron and hand you a broom, stifling an instinctive heart melted smile at the way you pouted up at him. always pushing to make him tick and relent into that soft smile he reserved for you and your antics.

"come on pup, you know what to do after making a mess. it's only fair that you help dad to clean up."

he'd tell you as he ruffles your hair and heads to the chair to check on the morning news. well...he tried to but the sight of your tail swishing and making your skirt sway, showing the soft cotton of your panties as you busied yourself grumpily was making him feel stuffy. he loosened his tie and ran his fingers through his still slightly mussed from sleep hair. you were so cute and smaller than him. although that was pretty much a given for most people. he worked out, after all. a neat freak, a health freak, and a very much infatuated with you freak.

so, after what felt like a hellish 15 minutes of you wiggling your hips to pick up chewed through laundry and sweeping up after your mess, he decided to help out so that he can sit you on his lap. the place you truly belonged. and there you sat once all was done. you exaggeratedly wipe off the barely there sweat from your brows as if you had done the most toughest of labours. he shook his head, face slightly furrowing in a mix of amusement and annoyance. you were the best at making messes and getting under his skin.

"was it really that exhausting, pup? if i recall correctly, i cleaned up most of it."

"i cleaned up the most, dad!"

you did your best to stifle that bratty smile, he'd give you props for that. the smile that knew what he'd do to make you balance the troubles you've caused him. minutes later, you'd have the hem of your dress bunched and stuffed between your sharp canines, his sleeves rolled to his forearms as his fingers buried in the sticky wetness of your cotton underwear. you were whimpering at the feel of his strong dextrous surgeon fingers rubbing shapes and circles that made you see stars while his other hand held your hips in place as he ground his bulge against you. you could see the scars on his arms and the veins flexing with each move and you swear you would've drooled through the fabric of the dress in your mouth.

"look at you making more messes for daddy to clean up. you're a really mischievous puppy you know that?"

he'd chide against your fluffy ears, nipping at the edge with his teeth. you'd bounce all desperate on his lap, so close to the edge until his fingers would pull away. he'd hover his slick covered fingers in front of you, your sticky juices dripping all shiny down his wrist.

"i'm supposed to be resting on my off days. you know this."

he tuts, pressing the pads of his fingers together to emphasise just how much your pussy had drooled on his hands.

"daddy hff please- i p-promise to be good! please...please let me cum pleaseee!"

you'd whine pathetically, drool absorbed fabric of your dress' hem sticking to your thighs. he'd laugh softly as he peppers kisses on the side of your neck.

"since you've promised...daddy will help you out, hm?"

he cooed, shifting to move you off of his lap and onto the couch. you could see your stains on his lap but he didn't seem to care. the flecks of hazel and green in his eyes swallowed almost entirely as his large palms pressed your thighs open. his face lowers and he licks a line up your drooling cunt, sucking the tip of your puffed up clit.

"let daddy clean this mess for you, sweet pup."

[sleepingdiaryzzz]

Yandere dick and yandere kori x adrenalin junkie reader?

ʙʀᴇᴀᴛʜᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ ʙᴜʀɴ ✬

ɴɪɢʜᴛᴡɪɴɢ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ x sᴛᴀʀғɪʀᴇ (ʏ!)

omg anon I am so sorry for the late reply you were deep inside(🤯) my inbox😭 ilysm anon dear so sorry for making u wait and making dis short boring ass reply💗😢

ᴍᴏʀᴇ ʜᴇʀᴇ!

There’s something about the moment right before impact. A razor-thin stretch of time where gravity abandons you, where air turns solid, where your body sings with the promise of a fall. It’s the kind of sensation that makes your pulse hammer against the cage of your ribs, that makes your fingers twitch, that makes you feel alive.

And they know it.

They watch you like fire watches a wick.

The three of you sit on the edge of the rooftop, the city stretching far beneath your feet. It’s an old, crumbling structure—one you had to shimmy up a drainpipe to reach, one that swayed ever so slightly in the wind. The kind of place that would send lesser mortals scurrying for safer ground. But for you?

You tip your head back and laugh, staring up at the sky, heart hammering as the air thins. You feel the weight of their eyes before you turn to meet them.

Kory’s gaze is molten, bright and all-consuming. Not in the way fire burns recklessly, but in the way it chooses what to devour. It’s worship and hunger wrapped in one, barely softened by the way she smiles, golden hair glinting under the neon haze of the city. Her legs dangle over the edge beside you, completely at ease, yet you can feel the tension in her muscles—ready to move, ready to save you if you fall, even if she has to burn down the world to do it.

Dick, on the other hand, is all restraint. He leans back on his palms, casual, like this is just another night, just another thrill. But you’ve known him long enough to see through the act. His fingers curl against the concrete, tapping out a rhythm against the rooftop—one-two, one-two-three. A habit. A tell. He’s measuring something. Calculating.

"You're thinking about it, aren’t you?" His voice is smooth, teasing. He already knows the answer.

You glance back over the edge. The streets below seem distant, the flickering streetlights turning everything into a distorted dream. Your grin widens. "Maybe."

Kory hums, tilting her head. "Would it be fun?"

"Absolutely."

Dick exhales through his nose, amusement laced with something deeper. Something darker. "You really want to give me a heart attack, don’t you?"

Your lips part to answer, but then—you move.

The wind howls in your ears. The world tips sideways. Your stomach twists into a sharp knot of weightlessness, and for a heartbeat, there is nothing but the drop. The rush. The moment where your body isn’t quite sure if it should prepare for impact or revel in flight.

But, of course, they catch you.

They always do.

Kory’s arms close around you first. A streak of fire, the heat of her body pressing against yours as she lifts you, her grip as unshakable as the stars. Dick is right behind her, the familiar coil of his grappling hook pulling both of you back toward the rooftop. They move like a unit. A force. A gravity all their own.

The landing is rougher than necessary. Not enough to hurt, but enough to remind you—they didn’t appreciate that little stunt.

Dick is on you in an instant, fingers digging into your waist, his breath sharp. Kory doesn’t let go either. Her arms remain wrapped around you, a lock of gold falling over your cheek as she leans in, forehead brushing yours.

"That was reckless," Dick murmurs.

"You do reckless things all the time," you counter, breath still uneven.

"Yes," Kory agrees, her voice warm. "But we are not willing to watch you fall."

You should be annoyed. You should roll your eyes, brush them off, tell them you had it under control. But there’s something in the way they look at you that makes your heartbeat stutter. Not anger. Not frustration.

Something deeper.

Something like devotion.

Dick’s thumb drags against your jaw, featherlight. His expression softens, but it does nothing to hide the storm behind his eyes. Kory’s arms tighten around you, pulling you close enough to feel the warmth of her skin through your clothes.

"You don’t get to scare us like that," Dick says, and there’s something final in his voice.

"Not ever," Kory whispers.

The way they hold you—it should feel suffocating. But instead, it feels like gravity.

[caelivir]

for your event, can you add fwb!atsumu and sweet boy by malcolm todd to the aux please !!

thank uuuuuu

now playing: sweet boy by malcom todd

first tsumu req of the event hehe. this song was lowk hard to figure out i cannot lie ‘cause it’s lowk angsty but i took one of the verses and tried to weave something cute from it. i hope u enjoy 🤗.

content. miya atsumu x fem!reader, fwb (he’s lowk in love tho), hint of jealousy, insecurity, communication, little suggestive | wc. 880+

three whole days.

miya atsumu has had this gut feeling that something’s wrong for three days, and it has to do with you. you’re not missing or anything terrifying like that. you posted a selfie on your instagram story just a day ago.

you guys can go without contact for a few weeks at a time, but this silent is different. it nags at him like spidey-senses telling him something’s not the way it should be.

that’s why he’s here, outside your apartment, even though his flight landed just two hours ago. he forced his manager to take care of his luggage and got the first taxi he could find to take him straight to you.

when you swing open your door, you blink, staring at him perplexed before you nearly shut it in his face. atsumu is barely able to wedge his foot before it completely shuts.

“oh come on.” atsumu huffs as he overpowers the strength you’re putting into trying to shut the door. he allows himself into your home when you give up.

you scowl, an expression he loves seeing you make when it’s not directed at him. “what are you doing here?”

“what? can’t see my favorite girl, now?” atsumu winks, trying to play things off as if his nerves are knotting into a tight coil in his gut. it results from a scoff out of your mouth as you shut the door.

you roll your eyes, crossing your arms. “sure, miya.”

that makes him stop dead in his tracks. atsumu whips his head towards you. the surprise is etched across his face, expressed through his raised eyebrows and dropped jaw. “miya?”

sure, atsumu’s annoyed you before, and to that you’ve called him a jerk. a dickhead, but not once has he ever been called miya. he doesn’t give a shit if others call him that. however, it’s different when it comes to you. a lot of things are. being called miya by you is wrong, illegal. it goes against every law of nature. atsumu can be anything to you, anything but miya.

he must’ve fucked up. severely.

he stalks closer, which in turn forces you to take steps back. this shuffle continues until your back presses into the back of the door. his face is dangerously close to yours, and he can tell it makes you nervous. it’s not obvious, but he sees it. your eyes waver every so slightly.

“back up.”

“not until ya tell me what i did.”

“who says you did anything?” you narrow your eyes, challenging him. always so stubborn.

“‘cause yer callin’ me miya. ya never call me that.” atsumu shoots back. that shuts you straight down. your eyes wander, looking at anything but him. “tell me what’s wrong.”

you scrunch your nose, feeling guilty. “sorry, tsumu. it’s- it’s stupid.” you mutter.

atsumu hates how dejected you look. he hates the frown on your pretty features. he hooks his index finger under your chin, forcing you to bring your eye up to his face. “hey. nothin’ ya say to me is stupid.”

“it’ll fuck everything up.” you whisper, genuine fear coating your voice.

“tell me anyway.” he assures you, lightly stroking your chin with his thumb. the silence overtakes. he waits, waits until you’re ready.

“i saw the pictures.” you admit quietly. “and the article.”

the ones from paris, atsumu realizes. so that’s what this is about. he gets it now.

“i just-” you pause, pursing your lips, weighing your next words. “i know we’re not together. we’re not anything really. i know. but i- seeing those pictures, reading that article… i hated it.

“but again, what right do i have? i mean you’ve got everything ahead of you, y’know? we don’t even see each other often. you’re all over the world. you’re bound to get all this attention, especially from girls that look like her. you deserve that. so i- i was just thinking that maybe-”

“no.” atsumu shuts that idea down before you can even get it out. he knows. he knows what you’re trying to do, and he won’t have it. he won’t even dare to entertain it.

“just listen to me.”

“not gonna.” he reaffirms with a hint of tease.

“(y/n), i don’t care about ‘em. i don’t care which model tries to throw herself at my feet. i like what we have. i’m not throwin’ that away for anyone. it’s you. it’ll only be you, ‘kay?”

however, you still don’t look convinced. he sees it in the way your frown dips slightly deeper. atsumu doesn’t like when people doubt him, but doubt is fuel. it tells him that there’s more he can do. that means there’s more he can do for you.

atsumu brings his face closer to yours, pressing a featherlight kiss to your cheek, another one to the tip of your nose, one on your jaw, before crawling up to peck the corner of your lips. he drops his hand from your face, navigating them to your waist where he slips them under your baggy shirt to feel the heat of your skin.

atsumu presses his forehead to yours, his lips hovering over yours. “i can prove it to ya. let me prove it to ya. let me show how much ya mean to me.”