A/N: Nolans a very neat character but like I tend to crush on characters around my age and look at that Nolan but exactly my age! I am a little salty that they didnât call him nowl-ahn but whatever Iâm just a dweeby comic fan. I feel like a lot of these overlap with my viltrumite Mark headcanons but like father like son I suppose.
Summary: Young Nolan x reader who heâs trying to kill lol + some generalish headcanons. I may do a viltrumite reader later
WC:882
Honestly probably takes a bit more effort to get him to fold than current Nolan I think, especially fresh off the scourge virus big big viltrumite loyalty there. Itâs probably just as easy to get him to like you but even worse suppression of his emotions.
Dare I say heâs good with kids? Listen listen he could have immediately crushed that little girlâs head for hesitating but he didnât isn't that sweet? Plus those viltrumite soldiers when he was in jail were like âIâd looked up to you since I was a child,â there's probably worse viltrumite teachers right? Heâs pretty squishy for a viltrumite, I think his dad went pretty easy on him (not sure how much parents actually raise their kids though).
Canonically I don't think he was doing any colonizing for a good bit, mostly dealing with threats to viltrumites, so perhaps you were on a planet with one of those viltrumites don't seem like the type to resort to diplomacy so maybe you are said threat. Itâs his job to take you out for the safety of the empire but whoops youâre pretty hard to kill so heâs at it for a while.
Nolanâs goal is obviously to kill you but for the sake of convenience and writing maybe youâre a little more merciful, you want to live probably and the guy is probably just causing problems on your planet in general so you do want him gone but itâs just the one viltrumite.
After long enough of trying you start to actually get to know each other, memorizing attack patterns and general fighting style. If youâre the chatty type then a lot of it is pretty one sided, he might shoot back with something short in an attempt to shut down your yapping but if that doesnât work heâd give up on that.
I think heâd probably start to get frustrated at not being able to kill you, heâs used to getting bodied by other viltrumites but you are not a viltrumite, youâre not supposed to compare. Switches to fighting more aggressively and less strategically which doesn't work and only serves to make him more mad and makes him fight even more aggressively and less strategically, you get the loop.
You were the only viable threat on the planet and viltrumite forces were spread thin so he was here on his own meaning everytime he got got he was left to screw off wherever to heal on his own, you probably could have killed him during any of those healing periods if you felt so inclined. You could also pull up and continue talking at him if youâre feeling particularly obnoxious.
Any form of interaction with something that isn't combat or whatever adjacent is totally foreign to him so itâd probably break his brain if you found him while injured and didnât immediately end that.
Would probably start trying to kill you even harder once he starts to like you, heâs there to eliminate threats to the empire you fit the bill and now heâs starting to want to not do that. How dare you tempt him away from his duty? He is unfortunately starting to want to kill you less but he wonât admit it.
Would end up looking forward to the brawling a bit, gives him an excuse to see you how sweet. Maybe even switches to being more defensive than offensive, because heâs starting to feel bad for hurting you.
Obviously because of different circumstances he wouldn't intentionally court you like he did Debbie but he would still be an awkward loser about it. Silently lingering around you instead of jumping you at every opportunity. Maybe even leaves you stuff thatâs probably not actually that useful, weaponry or rocks from far off planets, viltrumites don't really give gifts so heâs not used to it but thought that counts right?
I think his favorite form of like affection is just quietly hanging out, any sort of actual romantic stuff is weird and unfamiliar and Nolan just doesnât know how to react or return it. Just hanging out without purpose is also unfamiliar to him but he can deal with it better, no expectation to react or anything. Itâs really nice to be near someone else without having to be prepared to fight for his life, even if he has to force himself to not be prepared for attack.
Holy tsundere batman!! Weâve all seen him with Allen after he got on the whole redemption thing so imagine that cranked up to 100. âIâm only associating with a weaker species so I can eliminate you, stop getting ideas,â he complains while actively snuggling against you. What a loser.
This does either end with you dead, or if he really likes you, in hiding. No outright betrayal of the empire is coming from Nolan so young, he might like you, if you try hard enough he might admit he likes you but at the end of the day he is a viltrumite loyal to his people. It would hurt though, he has to constantly remind himself of the whole difference in lifespan (since viltrumites age slower as they grow the years and years of life are probably still beyond his comprehension, likely still being under 100 here).
How would Mark and his variants react to you having a stalker�
Main!Mark has a different reaction depending on what time in his life this is. Pre-Angstrom? Heâs much calmer about it. He doesnât want to jump to any conclusions, and heâs so wrapped up in trying to figure out the kind of hero he wants to be that quite frankly the matter falls to the back burner. Post-Angstrom? Broâs ending shit quick. Heâs not taking any chances. He wonât kill the stalkerâmurder is never something that comes easy for Markâbut heâs not above making absolutely terrifying threats. Heâs dangling the bastard over the edge of a high-rise and promising next time will be the last time. For anything. Period.
Viltrumite!Mark is a busy man, but you are always his top priority. The minute he realizes whatâs happening heâs postponing everything else. Viltrumite!Mark is usually very level-headed and is mindful to not let emotions get the best of him. But when he sees it with his own two eyesâsome creep stalker leering at you from behind a tree? Bitch, itâs on. His hand is punching through the thick tree trunk like tissue paper, and itâs not stopping there. Heâs pulling the now-dying stalker closer to him, his fist driven through his chest, and wishing him no honor in the afterlife.
Lensless!Mark is your stalker LMAO. But okay, if someone else was doing the creeping? I mean, heâd be kind of into it. Heâd notice the stalker even before you did, and for a while heâd let it become a game. Heâd start to keep track of when, and why, and how the stalker moved. Heâd never tell youâitâd ruin the fun, because he knows youâd immediately insist he does away with the problem. Lensless likes for the games to last. Heâd draw the line though on a night when you tried to show him something intimate; be it emotionally or physically. If itâs meant just for him, then itâs just for him. Heâd ask you to hold on just a second, vanish, then suddenly be back with a splatter of blood across his face that you strategically choose not to question (good call).
Sinister!Mark takes a while to realize it, and honestly? You do too. Heâs conditioned you very tightly to only be aware of him. Heâs made it clear that he is the only thing you ever need to concern yourself with and eventually, you completely internalize that. So, some time will go by where thereâs just a creeper lurking on you and both of you are none the wiser. Then one night, after a particularly veracious session of heat, heâs laid back in the bed with you on his chest and he sees it: eyes peeking from behind a bush. A tidal wave of emotions washes over Sinister that he canât quite articulate, and he takes action in the only way he can think to: letting you fall off his chest while he goes to handle the intruder (spoiler: a lot of torture ensues).
Omni!Mark is arguably the most efficient of them all. He clocks it immediately, and he deals with it instantly. But the situation lingers in his mind for a long time, and he canât let it go. He starts to realize all the ways he hasnât properly secured you, all the weak points in your house, in your job, in your daily routes. He knows he canât be with you 24/7, so he decides the best and most logical course of action is to teach you better situational awareness and self-defense tactics. And trust, this isnât up for debate lmao. When people try to approach you in public he doesnât entertain it at all, and the shadow he seems to cast is typically more than enough to keep most people at bay.
Shiesty!Mark is just waiting for this to happen. In fact, heâs counting on it. You are undeniably top tier goods in his mind. Of course motherfuckers are going to be trying to steal looks at you! And honestly? Heâs letting it happen. To a certain degree at least. He kind of views it like paparazzi. A little ogling never hurt anyone. But if the stalker crosses a lineânamely, if heâs trying to get it inâthen the whole operation is getting shut down. Heâs shirtless, hard, and irritated, appearing behind the stalker with a snarky line (âYou sweet on me? Tryna look at the package? Sick fuck.â) before snapping his neck like a wishbone.
Prisoner!Mark sees stalkers everywhere. Or at least, he thinks he does. He is so on edge when it comes to you, his high-priority alert system is constantly going off. It gets to a point where you start to become vigilant of his vigilance, and are constantly having to assure him that the threats he thinks heâs seeing are really just regular people living their lives. âŠuntil of course that stops being true. When he sees what is unquestionably a creeper following you home from the store he canât help but fall into his most primal mode. He doesnât let you see it happen, but the stalker is handed a death that would make even the most hardened killer blush.
Mohawk!Mark is surprisingly quite observant, and notices the problem long before you do. He loves his easy, fun moments with you so he tries not to pay the annoyance too much attention, but after a while it starts to consume his mind and he just canât ignore it anymore. He asks if youâve noticed the stalker, teases you for being so oblivious, then assures you heâll be right back with some obviously fake line about having to take a leak. After that he disappears in a flash just to form a crater with how hard he lands in front of the stalker. The trash talking and belittling that ensues (âaww, pathetic little man canât get any on his own? Needs to daydream about what another man has? What a little bitch.â) is almost as ruthless as the way he lets their skull crack between his palms.
Retro!Mark is disgusted by it all, but truthfully heâs also a little smug. Of course his perfect lover is attracting the obsession and wandering eye of others. He doesnât let the problem linger, however, and ends it with a condescending remark about how pathetic their life is. Then heâs coming to you to figure out why you didnât notice the stalker sooner. You arenât just you anymore, donât you know that? Youâre an extension of him. That means you need to represent yourself accordingly, which includes being so untouchable another person wouldnât even dream of looking at you for more than a passing glance. He claims you that night in a way that is hard to deny: you are unquestionably his.
Emperor!Mark is tweaking about it. Who the hell is this ugly, pathetic motherfucker daring to step to what is so clearly his property?? The insane verbal assault that comes first honestly should be documented for history textbooks. Emperor!Mark is unintentionally the king of roasts and he is absolutely not holding back in this moment. When itâs all said and done though, the stalker is losing their eyes, but not their life. He wants them to live, blind and horrified by the memory of what happens when someone acts out of line when it comes to whatâs his. He doesnât bring it up to you because if he does, he knows the nasty language will follow, and he doesnât like exposing you to that if he doesnât have to.
Full-Mask!Mark is almost exhausted by it all. Thereâs a level of desperation he has for the situation to not be what it clearly is. He doesnât want to be the murderer anymore. He doesnât want to be the bad guy. He just wants to be your lover. Your boyfriend. Your husband. He wants nothing more than to spend his afternoons with his head in your lap and the warm afternoon sun dappling through the living room window across his skin. But alas, the horrors of humanity keep dragging him back in. And Full-Mask handles business the first time with resigned fatalities. Heâs probably saying to the stalker, âWhy did you have to come around here?â then snapping his neck in his grasp like it was nothing more than a stress doll.
that man is so Dog you cannot convince me otherwise there are floppy ears hiding in that blonde hair of his i swear
/
if you were to tell anyone that grand master varka was more akin to an oversized puppy than a wolf, the whole of mondstadt might wonder if you've had too much to drink. and you might have agreed, if you didn't have such glaring evidence.
your first piece of evidence is his response to your calls. while he will always respond to varka (it is his name, after all), he responds better to "husband", "my love", "honey", amongst others. there's a visible difference in his response, the most notable difference being the way his head instantly snaps to your direction, his blue eyes sparkling, before he quite literally drops everything to sprint to wherever you are. you swear you could almost see floppy ears hiding in his blonde hair and a tail wagging so hard it might make him airborne.
the second piece of evidence is the way varka never fails to look like a kicked puppy when you scold him for his reckless behaviour. getting drunk is normal, sure, but getting so drunk he tries to fight a tree?! venti may have been laughing, but you certainly weren't. suffice to say, he was sent to the dog house for the next week (but his puppy dog eyes convinced you to let it go by the second day. sue you for being weak for your husband...).
the third and final piece of evidence is... well, just look at him and his demeanour. does everything about him not just scream dog-like? blonde hair like a golden retriever, personality like an overeager puppy, and an unshakeable loyalty, just like a dog.
but you're not complaining, not at all. whether your husband is more like a dog than a wolf or the other way around doesn't change varka's deep and pure love for you, just as it doesn't change your love for him.
and you're all the more happy to continue compiling this list of evidence, especially if you're the only one who will ever know about it.
if lying is a skill, varka is a natural. your entire relationship is built on deception. all the delightful memories, the beautiful conversations, the endearing late nights--destroyed and ruined. thrown straight out the window.
varka thinks you're overreacting. of course he does, he doesn't understand the important fact.
for ten years, an entire decade, he has kept an enormous secret from you.
Golden retriever Varka with black cat physician or hexrei witch reader who he begs to have as a dedicated healer.
Im talking he will walk all the way to your home, bleeding, panting and loosing breath just for you to scowl and scold him. Already complaining about the blood getting on your rugs and wood floors.
But do you heal him? Yes, otherwise his knights will be praying to the anemo archon for their lovesick Grandmaster who will put himself further in harms way just to see his favorite doc/witch. This sweet fool will just smile dreamily(the blood lost and lack of iron does the trick) as you scold him for his lack of awareness, and how this is "another scar" he's going to develope.
Oh and do not even get him started on any sicknesses. Everyone will be at your door on his behalf. "Please take him in! He's dying!" (He isn't, Varka just messing around to miss paperwork and to see you. So his acting skills will shoot through the roof)
And if it's even slightly raining after you treat him? Oh! That's a storm (it's not) ,I guess you have to let him stay(he can walk, and brave the rainfall), perhaps dinner? Some wine(where did he the bottle pull that from?)? He has time, I mean he can cook it too, you did care for him despite how much you complain....
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âË âżïž”âżïž”âżïž”àšà§ · · ⥠· · àšà§âżïž”âżïž”âżïž” Ëâ
[Gachiakuta] Rudo Surebrec, Zanka Nijiku, Enjin, and Riyo Reaper transparent renders
If it has a white curse/bg, you can download them here:
Google Drive Link
Discord Server
âË âżïž”âżïž”âżïž”àšà§ · · ⥠· · àšà§âżïž”âżïž”âżïž” Ëâ
ă»Free to Use, Free to Repost + Credit (For crediting, just @kintrea-transparents !)
ă»DO NOT steal, claim, or profit from my renders as if they're your own!!!
ă»Credit when using is not needed, but greatly appreciated!
ă»Reblogs + Likes are much appreciated!
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âF-fuckâslow downnnah,â he whimpers, breathy moans escaping his throat as you repeatedly slam down onto his thick cock, a mix of your cum and his nastily squelching and echoing off your bedroom walls.
Your poor expensive bathing suit bottoms now ruined, pushed to the side, too hasty and needy to ride the cute pool boy you hired. Your bathing suit top discarded on the floor along with his swim shorts. Your pussy grips him like a vice, sucking him in, milking him for his life, aiming to make him cum for a third time now. âGod, your cock feels so good! I just canât stop!â You smile down at him, sliding your hands up your waist and to your heavy tits, groping them in your hands. âCome on,â you pout, âjust one more?â
His eyes are glazed over, slowly blinking up at you through white lashes, drool pooling at the corner of his mouth. âNnngh! Youâre milking me dry! Howâhow are youâah!â He lets out a high pitched moan, voice cracking when you slam your ass down on him, his tip bumping against your cervix. âFuck, fuck, fuck!â He swallows thickly, mouth dry.
âCanât you keep up?â You say in a mocking tone, cocking your head to the side, licking your lips. Slowly, you grind your hips back and forth, clenching around his throbbing cock. âMmmph!â You bite down on your lower lip, dragging your nails down his chest to watch him squirm underneath you. âDonât be embarrassed if you canât,â you giggle, craning your neck downward to press soft kisses against his neck. âIâll just teach you,â you whisper in his ear.
A blissful sigh falls past his lips, breath shuddering under your every touch and word. His eyes roll back as you slowly lift your hips and sink back down on his cock again, just perfectly edging him so he canât cum too quick. Itâs absolute torture what youâre doing to him right now, but it feels so good. He was supposed to come here, clean your pool and head to his next job, but seeing you in that bikini made his mind wander places they shouldnât have. Now, youâre using his cock like a personal dildo.
âIâmâIâm gonnaâahâbe late!â He croaks, brows furrowing in pleasure when you lick a stripe from his neck up to his ear.
âJust say you were stuck in traffic, yeah?â You lightly bite on his ear, sinking back down on his throbbing length and grinding your hips in small circles. âItâs justâŠI really, reallyâahâcanât stopâŠfucking you.â Your sultry voice sent shivers down his spine, his entire body felt like it was on fire and ready to explode. You were a complete vixen. âPlease,â you beg, pressing a complementary kiss to his lips.
How could he say no? How could he say no when you were fucking him this good? When your pussy felt like it was molded perfectly for his cock. The way you were fucking him stupid, making him cum over and over without stopping. And when you smile down at him so prettily, that controlling, hungry look in your eyes. The way your tits bounced in his face, so tempted to suck and lick at your nipples. He knew he couldnât say no.
âOkay, okay,â he breathily said, nodding his head. âJust keep using me like Iâm your toy, mommy.â He looks up at you with pleading eyes, his hands inching their way up your waist, a bruising grip on your skin.
âAwe,â you giggle at the name, âhow cute.â His cheeks burn pink as he realizes what he said, but knows that all of his shame went out the window as soon as he laid eyes upon you. âDonât worry, mommy will keep using you however she wants.â
you came to draw a man, not accidentally unlock his secret shrine-level portfolio that proves heâs been mentally married to you since day one.
wc: 1.3k ushi makes a return!!
the pencil isnât even touching the paper yet and your heartbeat is already behaving like a malfunctioning washing machineâvibrating, rattling, threatening to fling its screws across the roomâbecause there he is: ushijima wakatoshi, sitting in front of you like some kind of divine sketch-model carved from olympian stone and agricultural devotion.
âthe audacity of him to just exist like that,â you think, your fingers already twitching, your sketchbook opening with its usual crackle. youâve drawn him so many times you could probably render him with the lights off, hanging upside down, while skydiving. every line of his jaw is in your muscle memory at this point; his eyelashes probably occupy 70% of your brain capacity; you could write entire essays on the dips and shadows of his collarbones.
âyouâre staring,â ushijima says, not accusinglyâjust a calm statement, as if heâs merely noting that the sky is blue or that volleyball requires teamwork.
you jolt, clutching your pencil like itâs a tiny lifeline. âiâm⊠observing.â
he nods once, the faintest curl of warmth touching his eyes. âi like when you do.â
you swear the temperature of the room skyrockets by at least twenty degrees. someone could fry an egg on your cheek.
you try to focus on your page. really, you do. but you canât stop glancing at himâhis steady posture, the gentle way he watches you, the patience woven into every breath he takes. heâs so overwhelmingly him that your chest feels like itâs stuffed with glitter and static.
youâve been sketching him for weeks. months. maybe lifetimes in alternate universes. and youâre not subtle about itâyour friends joke that your âushijima art arcâ has lasted longer than most tv show seasons. but he never complains. he sits for you when you ask, unbothered, composed, as if being immortalized by you is the most natural thing in the world.
today is supposed to be like any other drawing session.
except itâs not.
today ushijima brought a backpack.
and that backpack is suspiciously full.
you notice it only when he shifts, the zipper glinting. âwhatâs that?â you ask.
âmy sketchbook,â he replies plainly.
your heart stumbles. âyou draw?â
âyes.â he says this as if itâs common knowledge that the powerhouse wing spiker also happens to dabble in fine arts.
you blink. âwhat do you⊠draw?â
âthings,â he answers, which is unhelpful but also, weirdly, makes your stomach flip.
your pencil trembles. âcan i see?â
âyes.â
he reaches into his bag with the same casualness someone might use to hand over a napkin. but when he places the sketchbook in your handsâthick, heavy, edges worn like itâs been opened a thousand timesâsomething tingles down your spine.
because this is not a casual sketchbook.
this is a personal sketchbook.
you look at him for confirmation.
he nods once. âgo ahead.â
you open it.
and your brain malfunctions so violently it basically bluescreens.
page one: you. sitting under a tree, headphones on, smiling softly at nothing.
page two: you. leaning over a table to reach your water bottle, strands of hair falling forward.
page three: you. laughing so hard your eyes are squeezed shut.
page four: you. frowning at your math homework.
page five: you. holding an orange, looking at it like youâre about to debate its existence.
page six: you. sleeping during lunch, cheek squished against your arm.
page seven: you. eyes shining in a way youâve never seen captured before.
and it continues.
every page is you.
not always flattering, not always perfectâsometimes messy hair, sometimes weird angles, sometimes mid-blinkâbut all impossibly tender, drawn with a sincerity that roots you to your seat.
these arenât sketches of a casual interest.
these are sketches of someone who looks at you like youâre the axis he rotates around.
you flip another page.
and your breath completely leaves you.
itâs a full-body sketch. detailed. reverent. youâre sitting in the sun, your expression soft, dreamy. it looks like love trapped in graphite.
âushijimaâŠâ your voice cracks.
âyes?â he asks, watching you carefully. heâs steady, but thereâs something fragile beneath his toneâlike heâs bracing for you to run, or laugh, or fold into dust.
âthese are⊠all me.â
he nods. âi draw what holds my attention.â
your lungs forget their job. âthis isâthis is a lot. i didnât even know you liked drawing.â
âi like drawing you,â he says simply.
and that does it.
your soul leaves your body, pirouettes in the air, and re-enters upside down.
he shifts slightly, hands loosely clasped. âyou draw me often,â he continues, softer. âi thought⊠it would be fair.â
you stare at him, your heart doing aerial acrobatics. âfair?â
âyes,â he says. âbecause you look at me with so much focus. i wanted to show you that i look at you the same way.â
your entire existence melts into a puddle of emotional goo.
he leans inâslowly, always giving you spaceâand his gaze dips to the sketchbook still open in your hands. âdo you not like them?â
ânoâI mean yesâI mean i love themâi justââ you press a hand to your face. âi didnât know you wereâŠâ
his head tilts. âwere what?â
the words trip out of you, bare and shaking: âso gone for me.â
he doesnât flinch. âi am.â
you exhale a shaky laugh. âthat was very direct.â
âi donât want to hide it,â he says. ânot from you.â
and then he surprises youâreally surprises youâby reaching out and gently tracing the corner of the sketchbook with his thumb.
âi draw you because i think about you,â he says, voice warm and low. âi think about you because i care for you. deeply.â
your heart does the emotional equivalent of combusting in confetti.
âwakatoshi,â you whisper, unable to stop yourself from saying his name like itâs both a prayer and a punchline.
âyes?â
âcome here,â you murmur.
he does. immediately. like he was waiting for permission to breathe.
you place your palm on his cheek, feeling the warmth of him under your hand, the steady weight of him leaning into your touch like itâs instinct. âyouâreâŠâ you laugh softly, overwhelmed. âyouâre unbelievable.â
he closes his eyes for a moment, like heâs savoring the sound of your voice. âi want you,â he says quietly. âi want to be near you. i want to know everything you feel. i want to be someone you reach for.â
your throat tightens. âyou already are.â
his eyes openâbright, earnest, disarmingly vulnerable. âgood,â he murmurs. âbecause i donât plan on going anywhere.â
you cup his jaw more firmly. âwakatoshi?â
âyes.â
âkiss me.â
he does.
and itâs devastating.
not rough, not rushedâjust full, grounding, steady. like heâs pouring every line heâs ever drawn of you into the shape of his mouth, like heâs memorizing you in a whole new medium.
your fingers curl into his shirt. his hand comes up to cradle the back of your neck. he kisses you like youâre something precious and warm and necessary.
when you part, both slightly breathless, he rests his forehead against yours.
âyou can keep the sketchbook,â he says, voice low.
you laugh, soft and dizzy. âthereâs no way iâm keeping this. itâs practically your heart in paper form.â
âthen,â he says gently, âshare it with me.â
you blink up at him. âshare it?â
âyes. you draw me. i draw you. we keep doing that⊠together.â
your breath catches.
your smile blooms like sunrise. âyeah,â you whisper. âiâd like that.â
and he smilesâtiny but real, his eyes soft enough to bend galaxies.
âgood,â he repeats, thumb brushing your cheek. âbecause i already have more pages waiting.â
and for the first time, you realize something:
maybe you didnât come here just to draw him.
maybe you came to find the place where you fit between his lines.
and you found itâright here, in his hands, in his sketchbook, in the steady devotion he gives you so easily.
the pencil rolls off your lap.
neither of you reaches for it.
n: iâm finally working on my requests again. iâm still kinda mourning my relationship like a loser đ
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