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hom3landr · 4 months

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Homelander has a very merry Christmas

18+

Homelander shakes his head in disbelief as he lounges in his chair at the head of the Seven table. It’s been a year…a whole year since the day you entered his life. He still has the ribbon from that first package, tucked discreetly into his waistband. It’s frayed now and soft from running it through his fingers. He’ll touch his hip softly sometimes, right where he knows it rests, when his ears ring and his eyes begin to burn. Countless lives have been saved just from a little piece of fabric. It was the first gift he’d ever truly been given that didn’t have dozens of corporate strings attached. He wonders if you’ll bring him more candy, now that Christmas is right around the corner. He can still perfectly remember the taste a year later.

But your hands are empty when he sees you, and there’s a nervous stiffness to your shoulders that he’s not sure he enjoys. You’re fiddling with your fingers as you approach. He’s disappointed, he really was looking forward to some candy. But you give him a shy smile and he pushes down the sullenness rising in his chest. You hop up on the table in front of him, a bad habit you’ve picked up ever since that day you brought him the cake. He supposes that’s on him for encouraging you. He ignores the urge to tug you into his lap instead.

“Sooooooo…I don’t have anything for you today but I did want to ask you something.” You look down at your hands before pausing, trying to spark the courage to continue. He tilts his head and waits, somewhat impatient and still annoyed at being denied. He doesn’t like the way you don’t meet his eyes. Surely your fingers can’t be more interesting than him. You take a deep breath.

“IwaswonderingifmaybeyouwantedtocometomyplaceforChristmas?” The words come spilling out uncontrollably and you stiffen up a bit once they’re out, bracing yourself for a denial.

Homelander’s heart stops.

“I know you’re probably really busy and you have plans and other people you’d rather be with.” He doesn’t. “But I was going to make gingerbread and watch some Christmas movies. I don’t have any family close by or…or friends really, so I usually spend Christmas on my own. It won’t be anything fancy but I’ll let you lick the spoon.” You let out an awkward laugh, obviously insecure about the simplicity of your plans. After all, how can your humble apartment compare to Vought’s glitz and finery? How could Homelander be content spending Christmas with a nobody like you?

If you only knew how much the offer wiped away any of the disappointment he felt about the candy. If only you knew how much he’s been longing to join you in the sugar-sweetness of your kitchen. He wants to leap up and take you in his arms. He wants to agree and whisk you away to start the holidays early…and privately. He’s never had a proper Christmas before. Just Vought’s pretty, sterile, fake, holiday bullshit. He found it cruel the way they’d let him watch movies on Christmas when he was in the lab. He still can’t watch A Christmas Story without feeling sick with want. But maybe…maybe this year will finally be different.

But reality sets in. He has the Vought Christmas party. He can’t skip it, as much as he’d love to. He’s been dreading it honestly. She’d always been there before, guiding him, leading him, making sure he got through the event with his shiny grin firmly in place. But that was gone, ended by his own hand. The last fucking bit of Christmas cheer he could have possibly had. He clenches his fist and he watches you shrink back, mistaking his grief for anger at your boldness. He wants to say yes…but he can’t

“We have the company Christmas party, remember? Surely you wouldn’t want to miss that. I get the honor of lighting up the tree” He beams, hoping it assures you that you are not the target of his ire. Sure he’d prefer to be tucked away with you but the party won’t be too bad if you’re there. If you’re there then her absence won’t matter.

But his hopes are quickly dashed.

“Oh I’m not high enough up on the totem pole to be invited, for business or pleasure.” You shrug, clearly not bothered by the corporate snub.

“Well…I can’t exactly miss it.” Your face falls at his reply and the words tumble out before he can stop them.

“But if you don’t mind staying up a little later, then maybe I can swing by real quick after to grab a cookie or two.” He reaches out to lay a hand warmly on your knee

You return his grin despite the disappointment in your eyes.

“I’ll wait up for you then”

~~~~~~~

It’s late by the time he’s finally released from his shiny decorated prison. He’s sick to death of Frank Sinatra and mistletoe. He barely resisted crushing the hand of every asshole who felt entitled to his attention purely due to the holiday festivities. He gritted his teeth while he was forced to kiss the asses of board members and politicians. He barely avoided lasering A-Train’s head clean off his body when he wrapped his arm around him for a photo op. He’s so overloaded that he’s halfway to his penthouse for some much needed rest when he remembers your offer.

He pulls aside some tipsy asshole for the time, annoyed that no one seems to have remained sober. It’s not long until midnight and he worries that maybe you’ll already have given up waiting. He worries that he’ll get to your apartment to find you already snug and sleeping in your bed. He reminds himself that he can always wake you up. After all, he’s seen you bake until the wee hours of the morning. He remembers when he’d watch you bake till not long before you’d be needing to rise for work. Surely…surely, you haven’t forgotten to wait for him.

The night is frigid as he flies towards your apartment. The cold doesn’t hinder him but it isn’t exactly pleasant as the sharp wind stings his cheeks. He’d always wave away Maeve’s complaints but he reluctantly admits to himself that she had a point about freezing over the Atlantic. Luckily it’s a far shorter path to your apartment building. So he ignores it. The thought of you keeps him warm anyway.

What he can’t ignore is the distinctly human shaped figure waiting on the roof. He knows your form intimately and he’s clocked you the moment he sees you. You’re shivering, wrapped only in an old threadbare bathrobe over some red pajamas. It’s far too cold to be loitering without winter wear and an exasperated concern grows in his chest. Couldn’t you at least have grabbed a jacket? It wouldn’t do for you to catch hyperthermia before he even gets to celebrate Christmas with you. You haven’t seen him yet and he makes sure to land behind you as quietly as he can, lip twitching mischievously.

“Are you cold? You look like you’re freezing” He calls out from the other side of the roof. You leap into the air and stumble a bit too close to the edge for his liking so he rushes to steady you. Even through his gloves he can feel how chilled you are. You look back at him, disbelief on your face but surprised delight in your eyes. You shake in his arms and before his brain consciously makes the decision to, he swiftly detaches his cape to wrap it warmly around your shoulders. Your cheeks heat despite the chill and he’s deeply pleased by the way you look and the way his scent mixes with yours.

“I’m alright. I was waiting for you! I was worried that you wouldn’t be able to make it.” You clasp his cape tighter around you, teeth chattering. He pulls you closer so some of his heat can seep into you. He realizes that you may have been too focused watching for him to realize how chilled you are. He tuts at you, both flattered by your devotion and annoyed that you were so careless with your health.

“Would it have killed you to grab a coat?” He rubs your frozen hands between his gloved ones. Your answering smile is sweet and he’d blush if he could (He can. He did.)

“Are you worried about me?” You tease him lightly, eyes soft.

“I was promised gingerbread. If I’m promised something then I expect it to be delivered” He gives you a stern glare that’s tempered by the slight twitch of his lip as he fights a smile.

“Well, I can’t possibly deny you, can I?” Your lips quirk into a cheeky smirk. Your lighthearted words settle warm and heavy in the pit of his stomach. Suddenly, you feel so beautifully fragile in his grip, a small precious light that he keeps warm between his palms. You’re his. You’re so wonderfully his in this moment and deep within him, so deep he doesn’t even realize it yet, he’s become inescapably, completely, ineffably, yours.

You gesture for him to follow you down the fire escape to your floor. He follows behind as though he doesn’t have the way to your apartment imprinted in his mind. But your legs are stiff from the cold and after you slip slightly on the slick metal of the fire escape, he scoops you into his arms. You cling to him, stunned at the quickness and ease at which he gathered you up against his chest. You’re disoriented and wrap an arm around his neck to steady yourself.

“Don’t drop me!” you squeak and he laughs in response. You’re light as a feather to him and he’s not hindered by you at all. He would never, could never drop you.

“I won’t let you go, ever.” He reassures you and you relax against him, trusting him. You tuck yourself into the crook of his neck, and all of a sudden he has a sharp regret that his collar rises so high on his neck. He longs to feel your softness and your eyelashes brushing against the sensitive skin of his throat. He can’t resist leaning his head against yours as he climbs effortlessly down the thin and rickety steps.

When he reaches your apartment, he assists you in finding your footing and guides you inside. You don’t question how he’s able to navigate your apartment with ease. Stepping into your kitchen is like getting reborn into another life, a life that he had been cruelly denied. You’ve decorated every inch. False snow lines the top of your cabinets and it charms him to see tiny figures and miniature buildings tucked into the fuzzy winter wonderland. Mismatched bowls of ingredients line the counter, and deep red liquid smelling strongly of spice is steaming on the stove. It smells heavenly. It’s the same scent he normally loathes, the artificial scent burning his nose and giving him headaches, one of the few pains that he can experience. But there is nothing faked or imitated here and the rich smell makes his head swim pleasantly. His mouth waters and his jaw aches at the sweet spicy deliciousness in the air. It’s lovely and warm and you immediately shake off the shiver as you enter.

He blinks back sudden tears at the sight of a brightly lit tree twinkling merrily in the corner of the living room, a yule log crackling on the television. It’s perfect. Your tiny crumbling apartment that he would have scoffed at in any other time, is suddenly finer than any palace. His chest tightens almost painfully.

“It’s not much but I did my best to make it festive! The cookie dough is chilling in the fridge and there is as much eggnog and mulled wine as you could want. Help yourself.” You nod at the pot on the stove, hands on your hips, looking as confident as he’s ever seen you now that you’re in your domain. It’s not normally the response he gets when someone sees him in their home. He takes a brief scan of your fridge.

“Just milk for me, thank you.” He responds and you shrug and take a glass out of the cabinet. You fill it up full and hand it over. He takes a big chug. 2%

Perfect

“Well, I’m gonna have myself some mulled wine.” You grab another glass and fill yourself up a healthy serving. A tiny sip has you sighing deeply in pleasure and he wants nothing more than to lick the remnants off your lips. Your temperature is rising by the second and when he’s satisfied that you’re sufficiently warmed he relaxes a bit, wandering around your kitchen to look at everything.

You busy yourself taking a large bowl of dough out of the fridge and lining the counter and a baking sheet with parchment paper and a light dusting of flour. He’s distracted looking through all your cabinets. Nothing of yours is very fancy and it’s all a bit mismatched which he finds charming in a quaint kind of way. He rifles through your dish towels, smelling them to see if your scent still lingers. Then you tap him on the shoulder. He turns to find you with your head cocked and your arms wrapped around a large bowl, eyes shining and bright

“I promised gingerbread but first you have to help.” You wink at his baffled expression before turning around to begin scooping out the dough onto the parchment paper. “And take off your gloves! This stuff can get sticky.”

He’s still standing there frozen when you hand him a rolling pin. He frowns at it disdainfully before raising a skeptical eyebrow. This is so…beneath him.

“C’mon, let your inner kid out a little. I promise it tastes better when you’ve helped make it.” You shake the rolling pin at him.

Inner kid

You don’t have a single fucking clue.

He grumpily removes his gloves. He feels naked without them. He feels so raw, the Christmas cheer welcome but also a painful reminder of everything he was denied. He wants to be here but he feels unsure how to exist in a space when there are no expectations, no predetermined role he can play. Shedding the gloves feels like shedding a layer of skin but he can’t deny you when you look at him like that. You’re still wearing his cape around his shoulders and a sharp possessive pang runs through him.

His

He reaches out to grab the rolling pin.

“Normally people avoid giving me heavy blunt objects” He remarks dryly, although he quickly regrets it. It doesn’t seem to phase you though. You’ve heard the stories.

“You are a heavy blunt object capable of plenty of damage so I don’t think handing you a rolling pin is going to make much difference. Now get to work while I preheat the oven” You reach out to gently push him towards the dough.

He stares at it, frozen.

The dings from the oven ring in his ears.

It’s not that he doesn’t know what to do. The mechanics of a rolling pin are not difficult to fucking grasp. It’s just…none of this feels real. It feels like he’s still back in this lab and this is some cruel dream that will fade away into empty white. It’s like making one wrong move will shatter everything

He can’t lose this.

“Here! The recipe says ⅛ of an inch so you’ll need to roll it like this.” Your breath is hot on his ear as you lean in behind him.

Your hands rest tenderly on top of his as you gently guide him.

fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck

Your touch burns and a ravenous monster wakes in his chest. It howls and wails against the prison of his ribcage. He can smell you, hear your heart racing, practically taste the heavy scent of your soaking cunt into the air. The wood creaks under his grip as your thumb brushes against his. His cock is hard and leaking into the tight spandex of his pants. The ribbon on his hip is like a brand; like your hands are on him there too.

Fuck the cookies

The throb of his cock urges him to devour your brown sugar pussy instead.

But as strong as the sudden rush of his arousal, it pales in comparison to the prickling sting of tears at such a kind touch. The last person to touch him like this was…

Fake

Just like everything else

Except you

Except this.

A quiet sob escapes him but if you notice then you don’t acknowledge it. You just keep pushing your palms against his hands in a steady rhythm, the dough easily giving way. Your body rocks against his and the softness of you warms him to the core. He sees the flutter of his own cape out of the corner of his eye.

His

You’re his.

The whole world narrows down to only the two of you.

He could stay here forever with you. Life with you could be like Christmas for eternity. He’d never be alone. You’d never be alone. Just gingerbread scented air and mulled wine, and your body pressed to his forever.

“Alrighty! That just about does it. We just need to get out the cookie cutters and we’ll be good to go.” You pull back.

Something inside him snaps and he turns and grabs your shoulder, tugging you into him. You blink owlishly at him. He opens his mouth but nothing comes out. He reaches out to caress your cheek, relishing the warmth against his bare hand. You lay your hand over his although you make no move to pull away.

“I…” His breath catches.

“Can I kiss you?” You ask breathlessly

You don’t wait for an answer before shyly pressing your lips to his. It lasts barely a second before you're pulling back with a smug little smile. You point up and he barks out an incredulous laugh.

Mistletoe

A sprig of fucking mistletoe is attached to the ceiling.

“I thought you always spent Christmas alone.” He remarks, lips still burning. He’s dreaming. He’s…this can’t be real.

You chuckle.

“I’m not alone this year.” You respond before giving him another sweet kiss that he eagerly returns.

You taste exactly like brown sugar.

He giggles into the press of your lips

Merry fucking Christmas.

#homelander #homelander x reader #x reader #homelander headcanons #merry christmas to all who celebrate!!!!#baker verse

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bejeweledblondie · 7 months

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Johnny “Soap” MacTavish Headcannons

A/N: I’m very happy y’all are enjoying these!

Warnings NSFW

• Y’all met while you were on a study abroad program

• You had been returning from a night class & decided to go to the local pub for a pint & some food

• It was another soldier that pointed you out initially but he caught your eye

• “Oi, what’s a wee lass like yourself doin’ all alone in the corner?” (It definitely didn’t come out THAT clearly)

• it took you a minute to process what the hell he had said since his Scottish accent is so thick

• You spent hours chatting in that bar, about your home life, studies, etc. Johnny was limited in what he could tell you about his profession

• The two of you exchanged numbers & on your first date he took you to the Scottish countryside

• The view took your breath away, & he explained the history of his homeland to you (he’s very patriotic)

• You’d FaceTime, call, text etc. once you had to return to your home country

• He was so proud to see you graduate (he knew how hard you worked towards obtaining your college degree)

• He told you he couldn’t go to your graduation due to work (it was a lie)

• He planned out a whole secret proposal with your parents over FaceTime

• imagine your surprise when you saw him after the ceremony

• He proposed in private in your childhood house’s backyard

• You initially got married in the states to be able to live with him due to his military service & start receiving housing

• Y’all had a ceremony & reception at a castle in the Scottish countryside complete with a hand tying ceremony

• Yes, you had a bagpiper at the wedding

• He wore a kilt (are we even surprised?)

• Your garter had his last name on it & was in tartan plaid that matched his kilt (yes you had a garter toss & he was in shock when he saw the garter)

• Y’all got a gorgeous little cottage by the sea & ofc a sheep dog to go with it

• He 100% would be hosting for football matches

• And if you’re American y’all would definitely host a Super Bowl watch party

• I feel like he’d love reality tv (especially 90 Day Fiancé & the Kardashians)

• He has commentary too for every scene

• “what a fooking idiot.”

• His favorite Kardashian is Kris Jenner

• Since he can barley keep his hands off of you, he knocks you up only a month after your wedding

• Since he was deployed you mailed him ultrasound photos of the bean

• For a man who is incredibly intelligent it didn’t click that you send multiple photos of the same ultrasound

• He thought he was having quints at first & nearly had a stroke

• “You’re having five of ‘em?!” “No that’s the same fetus just different photos”

• He kept the ultra sound photos in his plate carrier

• Tactical baby gear is a must (also it’s a real company which is awesome)

• Hear me out little baby kilt, Simon gifted it to y’all

• You nearly cried when you opened the gift d

• Simon is 100% the godfather of your baby, if you trust him with Johnny’s life you can ensure if anything happened your baby would be taken care of

• Johnny was lucky that he was able to be there the entire time you were in labor

• He almost fainted when he saw the epidural (I don’t blame him)

• You guys had a little boy

• Unfortunately while you were in recovery he got called back into work for a mission

• Before he left he held your son just incase it was his last time holding him

• You sobbed when he left & one of the nurses had to console you

• Thankfully it was just a hostage rescue so he was back within a few days & ready to help out with the baby

• He carried your son around in one of those baby carriers that your strap to your chest

• Your baby boy is so giggly just like his daddy

• He will constantly be making his son laugh with silly faces, hand motions, anything

• Whenever the boys come over to watch a match your son will be passed around like a hot potato one moment he’ll be sitting with Price then next Simon has him

• As your son gets older he gets interested in what his daddy does, & he’s infatuated with being a soldier

• He’ll play pretend soldier with Soap all the time

• You’re constantly picking up Nerf darts

• When Soap is away on a mission, your son will crawl into bed with you because he misses his daddy

• He draws photos of him & the Task Force to send to overseas

• I also feel like y’all’s son would be incredibly helpful around the home especially when you’re expecting baby No. 2 & after baby No. 2 is born

• Baby No.2 is a little girl

• He’s definitely very protective over his little girl

• “She’s just as beautiful as you, Bonnie”

• Y’all’s son would also enlist or commission to the British Military but I think he’d actually be a King’s Guard for a bit

• And I feel like your daughter would be incredibly creative, she’d use those talents to be an artist

• I do believe Soap is a die hard family man & that’s one of the many reasons why you fell in love with him

✨NSFW✨

• He’s definitely a cheeky bastard & will not hesitate to smack, grab, or make comments in public about you

• He’s 100% dominant in the bedroom & loves to be called “daddy”, or even “Johnny”

• He fucked you right before y’all walked into your wedding reception, perks of wearing a kilt

• This man loves your legs & especially your thighs

• He loves to watch you squirm when his hand trails your legs all the way leading up to your pussy

• He’s not quite during sex whatsoever, he’ll full on groan, moan & tell you good you feel

• He’s a sucker for flexibility

• You take up yoga to improve your flexibility

• I definitely believe y’all wouldn’t even make it through the front door when he comes home

•He’d either fuck you on the hood of the car or the damn back seat in the parking lot

• He loves it when you wear his old PT shorts & no panties easy access

• He definitely loves you & your body & would know how to take care of you

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blindmagdalena · 4 days

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Guilty Pleasures ( chapter four )

18+ 5.2k homelander x plus size f!reader. office romance, stalking, voyeurism, office sex, cunnilingus, cream pie, breast play, flight sex, lite overstim, riding. nebulously takes place post s1. part 4/4. AO3 link. CH I CH 2 CH 3

Homelander takes what's his, and you get what's yours.

welcome to the final chapter! thanks so much for reading. i really enjoyed the dynamic between these two, and i hope you do, too. 🖤

Homelander doesn’t hold it against you that you take him up on his suggestion to be absent the following day. He leaves a little peace offering in your office to say as much: a mug for your collection that reads simply, You’ve Been Mugged. He adjusts it seven times on your desk before he finally leaves it alone, surveying your office a while before letting himself out.

The thugs he lasered down in the alley don’t garner much attention, but it’s enough to warrant a statement on the truth of what happened. With them dead, the truth becomes whatever he makes of it, and his truth is that two vagabonds were assaulting a cherished Vought employee before he put a stop to it.

It’s precisely the kind of hero story the public loves.

“I acted on instinct,” he tells the newscaster. He relives the moment as he tells it, recalls only to himself how fierce you had been. How determined you were that if you were going to die, you would die fighting. “They were going to hurt her. I like to believe any good citizen in my position would have done the same.”

Madelyn taught him that conviction without contrition would always read as arrogance, so he speaks firmly but with a furrow to his brow, and he closes his eyes when he inclines his head to accept praise. No matter how dead she is, her voice remains an echo in his mind: follow the script, and you’ll be fine.

They use his words to segue into a discussion of gun control, and Homelander’s mind drifts somewhere distant, hearing without listening to the petty squabbles of humans crying about their little toys and laws. He supposes this is how God feels when humans pray to Him over every minor inconvenience. Bored and painfully above it.

While it’s easy enough to keep himself distracted during business hours, Homelander’s life comes to an abrupt halt alongside the end of the working day. Like the equipment that broadcasts him, there’s little use for him once the cast and crew goes home. All around him the employees commiserate at the end of their work day and pass around invitations to the bar.

He receives none.

Not that he would accept them if he did.

Seeking both council and companionship, Homelander finds himself in Noir’s apartment, seated in the chair Noir keeps for him. It’s the only one the hero owns, what with his interior design being deeply steeped in westernized ninja nonsense. The place is half dojo, half living quarters.

He laments his situation to Noir, explaining his patience in courting you, the lengths he’s gone to endear himself to you on a personal level, and the bitter sting of your rejection.

“See her,” Noir writes in his sketchpad, sitting on the floor on the other side of the low table. “If glad to see her, good. If not–”

Homelander snorts at the series of knife sketches that follow. He has no doubt Noir would put an end to anyone for any reason Homelander gave. Simplicity has allowed Noir an unwavering loyalty to Vought, and as an extension, Homelander himself. Luckily for you, he has no interest in that happening. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Noir,” he muses, clapping his hands on his thighs before he stands up. “You’re right. I’ll go see her. Thanks, buddy.”

Noir offers two thumbs up. A true uproar of approval.

Under the cover of darkness, Homelander returns to your house, the flight path a familiar one now. He lands silently on your roof this time, cocking his head. He’s not confident he’ll be able to resist your siren pull if he approaches now. He folds his hands behind his back and peers through each layer between him and your bedroom, stopping when he can see you.

You’re nestled deep in the splay of your blankets, lips parted around shallow breaths. He bites his own bottom lip, remembering how badly he’d wanted to feel them. Taste them. He’s certain now that if he allowed himself to be close enough, he would. Denial, for as much as it stung in that moment, has only made him hungrier for you. Fuck, the way he’s craved you from the moment you first brushed him aside.

He watches you shift in your sleep and his eyes narrow, honing in on a familiar flash. His stomach flips–it’s his cape, the fabric pinned between your blanket and your body. You really are sleeping with it, the star spangled blue fabric tucked up under your chin. Do you smell him on it? Homelander groans softly. Like your underwear in his bedside drawer, you sleep with a trophy of your own.

“Fuck,” he says, aching. His heart, his mind, his cock–all of it at once a cacophony of vicious yearning and impatience. The urge to peel the roof like a sardine can and carve his way straight to you nearly knocks the wind out of him, has him preemptively reaching for the shingled surface.

Only the lingering wound to his ego gives him pause. He’s been bitten once, leaving him shy to instigate, but this revelation feels like progress. You’re aching for him as much as he is for you. He’s sure of that now. It’s time that he made you feel that ache. Feel his absence. Then you’ll realize the foolishness of your coy game.

Clenching his jaw defiantly, Homelander lifts up into the sky.

He’ll be benevolent when you come to your senses.

The next day, Homelander keeps himself scarce, preoccupied. Ashley is perkier than usual, thrilled–if not suspicious–with his easy participation in whatever inane business she brings to him. It helps distract him from the endless feeling of waiting that he’s enduring.

He sticks stubbornly to his schedule, fantasizing about the torment his avoidance has surely wrought. He’s tempted a time or two to break, but each time he remembers the mortified Oh! you uttered before he kissed you, he refocuses himself.

You’ll come.

Not before lunch, but that is the perfect opportunity for it. He makes himself more available then, tapping his fingers against the armrest of his chair.

No sign of you.

He gives you the benefit of the doubt. A meal to embolden you.

Then you’ll come.

He waits.

Lunch long since over.

He waits.

The day is winding down.

He’s fucking tired of waiting.

Where the hell are you? He’s given you the entirety of the day to seek him out, ample opportunity to come thank him for his gift, to address the aching thing ruminating between you. You’d be a fucking liar to say you don’t feel it, too. By midday, he’s seething with impatience and hurt. There’s no chance he’s going to let you stand him up.

It’s precisely the wrong time for Ashley to rear her head back up. “Okay! That’s that, now regarding the amnesty for–”

“Ashley!” He snaps, a harsh and throaty sound. “Would you shut the fuck up?”

She stops in her tracks, staring wide-eyed. Of course it was too good to be true.

Homelander all but leaps to his feet, pushing out of his chair so hard that it flips backwards and into the wall in a heavy clatter. She clutches her vPad to her chest and quickly back steps out of his way, watching in frightened bewilderment as he storms from the room, making a beeline towards your office.

He doesn’t bother knocking this time. Still, his restraint is undeniable when he pushes your door open. He barely catches himself from pushing the damn thing clean off the hinges.

Your head snaps up from your computer, eyes wide. He hears your heart jump and he savors the alarm that shoots through you. Payback for the awful misery you forced him to endure in the hours since he last saw you. Still, the sight of you disarms him. For all his seething anger, there is something small in him that retreats it when your eyes are on him.

There’s a heaviness to your gaze that his strength can do nothing to alleviate. No incredible feat of his can wrench away what it is he wants from you. What he needs. It’s something you have to give him willingly, and that alone is enough to temper his rage. The familiar fear that you won’t.

He marches to the front of your desk and levels an accusatory finger on you.

“You like me,” he hisses, bending to brace his opposite hand on your desk.

You blink owlishly, lips parted. That clearly wasn’t what you expected him to say. He’s not sure it’s what he meant to say. “Homelander–”

“No,” he says, voice pitched low, a warning. “No, no. No games, no workarounds. You like me. You do. And I like you. So,” he abandons his point to make a vague encompassing gesture, but he doesn’t know what to say next. He didn’t think this far ahead. All day he had practiced the calm benevolence he would show when you approached him, chastised and yearning. He has nothing to back up this frenzied play for.

You stand. Homelander rises to his full height with you, jutting his chin out. He watches you with all the wariness of a wounded predator as you circle around your desk, your hand gliding along the wood like you would flank a horse so as not to spook it.

He can’t determine the intent behind your gaze. He angles his body towards you, facing you head on. You look like yourself again, in your element and free from the fawn fear of the alley. He can’t entirely decide which way he prefers you. When you were in his arms, he was your hero. In your office, his position feels more precarious.

The silence stretches on for hours–or seconds, it’s impossible to say–before he can no longer stand it. Sucking in a breath, he–

You kiss him.

Homelander goes shock still, hyper aware of your lips pressed feather light to his, your breasts against his chest, your hand on his forearm. He doesn’t know when he closed his eyes, but he senses when you begin to pull away.

In a flash he cups your face in his hands and pulls you in deep, inhaling sharply, like he’s only just remembered how to breathe. He kisses you, kisses you, kisses you as if he can trap you in the cycle of it. You don’t resist, you don’t tense. Instead, you sigh an angel’s breath against his lips. Only then does he break to look at you.

“I don’t understand,” he says, bewildered, flushed.

“I do like you,” you say, eyes glassy.

His brows pinch. “But… That night–”

“Wasn’t right,” you interrupt. “I wanted to kiss you, but not like that. Not then. Not because you saved me, not because I was in shock, not because of…” you rock your head side to side. “Whatever other bullshit… You let me down that night.”

“Let you down?” Homelander echoes, taken aback. “By saving your life?” He asks, his temper a perpetual simmer ready to flare. He’s immediately tempered by your hands taking his wrists, squeezing. You hold his gaze and your expression is gentle, but there is a firmness in your stare that he finds intoxicating. Not an ounce of fear, even when his anger emerges.

Good. You shouldn’t be afraid of him. He saved you.

“I was shaken. Badly. My date was an entitled asshole, those men, they tried to…” You shake your head, holding his hands to your face. “I didn’t need you to be a man. I needed you to be a hero. I wasn’t ready.”

A light in Homelander’s eyes flicks on. You just weren’t ready. He’d been right after all. He fixates on that, choosing to forgive you for that, at least.

“Well, why didn’t… You could have said something,” he says, feeling like a deflated hot air balloon, all slack expansion and heat with no purpose.

“I would have,” you say, your cheeks soft and round in his hands, lips slightly puckered from his hold on your face. “But you ran away.”

“What? I–” He laughs incredulously. “I did not run away.”

“Flew away,” you say, pushing in to kiss him again. He screws his eyes shut. Fuck, fuck. Oh fuck. He’s been dreaming of this, aching for it. To feel you against him, wanting him as much as he wants you. “Pretty fast, too. Looked like you shot straight up to the moon,” you say, breath hot and sweet on his lips.

“I…” He swallows, hands slipping down to either side of your neck, thumbs tilting your chin up. “I’m sorry. I wanted you,” he says, trailing his parted lips along your jaw, kissing and breathing you in the way he’s craved to. He can feel your skin growing hot against his lips, hear the uptick of your pulse as your heart begins to race.

“Do you still want me?” You ask, voice lower now. It sends a delicious hot pang all the way through him.

“You have no fucking idea,” he murmurs, nipping at the lobe of your ear, desperate to test the give of you under his teeth, the feel of your soft and yielding flesh branded into his memory the moment his lips touched your skin.

A knock snaps his attention away from you, but it isn’t at the door. He looks down and sees that it’s you knocking on your desk. “So take me,” you say, voice laced with heat. His lips split into a wicked grin. He snatches the edge of your heavy wooden desk and effortlessly tips it backwards until everything slides off of it, clattering to the floor. He lifts you up, relishing your delighted little yelp, and places you down on the cleared surface like a doll, stepping in between your legs.

He kisses you again. Let me in, demands the press of his tongue. You yield to him, but it’s far from a surrender. Your tongue meets his eagerly, tasting him as much as he does you. Tasting you. That’s what he wants. He wants to map every inch of you with his tongue.

Homelander slips his hand between your legs, pushing your skirt up out of the way. He presses his fingers to the heat between your thighs, rubbing through the thin fabric of your panties. You sigh that same seraphic sound against his lips, slipping your hands up into his hair, already taking a handful of it to tug gently.

He breaks the kiss and takes his fingers from you after the barest tease of pleasure. The impatient sound you make goes straight to his cock, as does your flustered expression. He brings his fingers to his lips and drags his tongue over the leather of them, sliding them past his lips to give a quick suck. It’s not enough, too slight a hint of you. He needs more. You watch him with rapt attention, giving his hair a demanding little tug.

“You can pull as hard as you like,” he tells you with a smile, tilting his head against the grasp you have on his hair. “Tells me I’m doing a good job.”

“I’ll tell you when you’re doing a good job,” you rasp, giving his hair a sharp pull and then a downward push. That sends a shiver down his spine.

Fuck yes.

Homelander sinks down onto his knees, lifting each of your legs up over his shoulders. You give a little gasp when he yanks your ass to the edge of the desk, giddy with the way he manhandles you. He swallows, mouth dry, thirsty for the wet, heady smell of your pussy. He maneuvers his head under your skirt until he’s close enough to drag his tongue up the soft cotton of your panties. Your breath hitches and your grip in his hair tightens while you egg him on with sharp little rolls of your hips.

He closes his eyes, giving a rumbling moan for the taste of you, even through the fabric. He laps until the fabric is soaked, clinging to your skin, and he can feel your clit swollen and stiff on his tongue through your panties. He closes his mouth over it, sucking you through your underwear while you writhe above him, keeping yourself quiet.

That won’t do.

He wants to hear you.

He wants the whole fucking Tower to hear you.

Hooking the crotch of your panties with his finger, it only takes one sharp little tug to tear them, exposing you to him.

“Homelander,” you moan. The sound of it lances a spear of heat through him, leaves his cock throbbing needily in the rigid confines of his cup. He groans into you, rocking his hips against the empty air. The only proper answer is to dive in, to close his lips around your clit and finally suck the rich nectar of your cunt without the filter of fabric between you. You taste even better than you smell, like salt and sex and sweet ripe fruit. It overwhelms his senses immediately, his eyelids flickering.

The more he laps at you, the silkier your pussy becomes. Between circling your clit, he drives his tongue deep into you, drinking you down noisily and messily, a parched man gulping from an oasis. Your thick thighs are tight on either side of his head, your pulse pounding in his ears. He moans low and wicked for the taste and feel of you.

Your grip on his hair tightens sporadically, sharp little tugs that match the staccato cadence of your breaths. “F-fuck, your tongue feels-feels fucking unreal,” you moan, grinding down against it. The strength of it, the slight thrum of restrained power that courses through him, and the sheer relentlessness of his stamina is driving you wild against his mouth. “Fingers, use your fingers,” you tell him. He loves the rawness of your voice, the authority and desperation in your demand.

Removing one of his gloves, he moves his bare hand to the sweltering wetness of you, teasing his finger just below where his tongue is rubbing your clit. His index finger slips easily into the slick mess, and he savors the quiver of your velvet walls around it. He lets you ride his finger, stays all but still while you greedily bounce your hips, both hands fisted in his hair. You use him for your pleasure, and it makes him delirious with want.

Homelander's gaze flickers up. He peers through the layer of your skirt to catch a look at you, to watch you while you cannot watch him. You’re losing track of yourself, lips parted, eyes glazed with pleasure, shivering with each flick of his tongue and dive of his finger. Euphoria looks good on you.

Christ, he has been patient. He would chastise himself for waiting so long to touch you, to taste you, to feel you, but he can’t bring himself to. The wait gifted him with this exquisite hunger, and he proved something important; you both yearn for the other. You crave him. He can see it in your hazy eyes, taste it in the spill of your sweet cunt.

You belong to him. He needs only to take you.

One finger becomes two, and then three. Your heels dig into his shoulders and fuck yourself down on them, moaning recklessly now, not caring who hears you. It’s music to his ears.

“Fuck, Homelander, I-I’m coming, I’m-don’t stop, don’t stop,” you beg prettily. You don’t need to, but he enjoys the song anyway. He laps at your clit in quick upward pulls of his tongue, lips creating a seal around it. His brows furrow tightly, his own neglected arousal pounding through his body like a wardrum, but he doesn’t touch himself, too focused on you.

Your whole body locks up tight when you come, breath caught in your lungs, your clit fluttering delicately. He presses his tongue to it, savoring the taste of your euphoria, how it floods your system and changes the flavor of you. Your pleasure grows his hunger into something monstrous, something demanding, but there is satiation at least in bringing you this, in showing you all the things he will be for you.

You’ll never want for anyone–or anything– else ever again.

Homelander doesn’t stop. You begged him not to. He finger-fucks you through the aftershocks, lapping up every drop of your pleasure, stroking you inside and out while your cunt squeezes his fingers. He doesn’t stop until he feels you pushing him away, your sweet songbird moans sounding more like whimpers, oversensitized. He withdraws his fingers, giving one last noisy slurp before emerging from beneath your skirt. His face is shiny and wet with your slick, his pupils blown black. He's panting, looking every bit like a beast lifting its bloodied head from the belly of its kill.

Crawling up your body, still predator hungry, he rests his knee on the desk between your legs. He cups either side of your face, fingertips digging possessively into the back of your neck. He meets your eyes, pinning you with the intensity of his gaze, wordlessly drilling into your mind that this moment, this feeling, this tingling warmth in your body is him.

I did this to you, his expression reads. You’re on my lips, he says by pressing them to yours, kissing your own taste into your mouth, his body throbbing, desperate for an ounce of that same relief. You’re mine.

To his amazement, your eyes mirror his own savage hunger. You kiss him hard, shamelessly licking into his mouth, huffing shallow breaths from your nose. “Lie down,” you tell him, voice as sweet and coarse as raw sugar. “I’m going to ride you.”

Homelander doesn’t need to be told twice. Exhilarated, he rolls over, flipping you with him and steadying you above him in a fluid motion. The desk isn’t as long as he is tall, but it doesn’t matter. He’s already half suspended in the air with his own excitement, helping you with overly eager hands that fumble alongside yours with his belt, which falls to the ground with a distinct thud. He gives a little jump at the voracity you rip his zipper down with, grinning.

Together, you shuck his pants down to his thighs. You grip him through his red briefs, a fractured moan falling from his lips.

“Cute underwear,” you coo. His cheeks flush to almost the same shade. You flatten your palm over his cock and he bites back a whimper, teeth sinking into his tongue. You give a light squeeze, fingers curling around his cock through the fabric, and he lets out a rough breath. “You feel close,” you tell him, stroking him in a loose fist, your hand warm, the fabric soft.

He nods fervently, the friction and your voice already teetering him towards the edge. He makes a sound of both anguish and relief when you release him, his eyes snapping up to meet yours. You tug his underwear down, his cock bouncing free, engorged and dripping precome.

“Don’t move,” you tell him, bracing one hand on his chest and sliding forward, your other hand moving between your bodies to steady his cock against the rapturously hot press of your soaked cunt. His hands fly to your hips, fingertips biting into the softness of your body. You allow him that, focused entirely on the act of taking him into you. The fat head of his cock it slips inside, evoking a sweet little gasp from you, and Homelander fights not to slam in the rest of the way.

Both of your hands fall to his chest, your eyes meeting his. He holds your gaze, mouth twitching around silent sharp breaths. He watches you sink slowly down the length of him, engulfing him in such sublime rapture it’s a wonder he doesn’t come right then and there for the feel of you alone. His grip on your hips flexes and he gives a sharp little thrust up, forgetting himself to the divine feel of your pussy.

“I said don’t move,” you remind him breathlessly. God, you’re beautiful like this. The fluorescent light behind your head haloes you, giving you the look of a debauched angel he plucked from the heavens to have and keep as his own. He expects you to move, to bounce yourself on his cock like you did his mouth and his fingers. He wants to watch your tits bounce, see your face clearly when you come on his cock, but the only part of you that moves is your hand.

His gaze drops and quickly darkens, watching intently as you stroke your clit. The initial contact alone makes you jerk, makes your pussy spasm and squeeze him so good he almost chokes on it. Your only response is to sigh, tipping your head back and spreading your legs a little wider, taking him deeper. He wants so badly to fuck you, to slam you down and rail you until your desk cracks in half.

“Mmmm, fuck,” you moan, rubbing yourself in circles, the lewd noise of it loud and irresistible to his ears. “Fuck, fuck–ah, god,” you start to pant, head falling forward, brows tightly pinched. You’re so sensitive after the assault of his mouth, the flavor of you still fresh on his tongue. The faster your fingers move, the closer he feels you get, the clench around his cock steadily tightening. He wants to thrash, but you keep him pinned in place with your look of expectation and pleasure. You’re getting off on him as much as you are your own fingers, on the swell and throb of his cock inside you, on the sheer power you hold over a god.

You’re loud when you come, nails clawing into the chest of his suit. Homelander’s eyes roll back, lips parted on a soundless cry of his own. The spasming heat of your release is too much and he loses himself to it, eyes flaring up with crimson light as he comes with you, every shudder of your climax stroking and milking him of his own, flooding you with his own wet mess.

His restraint breaks with the dam and he sits up abruptly, startling a noise from you, which he swallows with a hard kiss, cupping the back of your head. He holds you still and he fucks you, lifting from the desk entirely so that he alone supports your weight, driving you deeper onto his cock. Your legs tighten on either side of him, shaking.

Out of his mind with pleasure, he tears your blouse open with his teeth, diving in close to lick, suck and bite at your chest. He buries his face between your breasts, holding you tightly as he fucks you both through your respective orgasms, the slap of flesh against flesh echoing obscenely in your office.

Hitching your legs properly around his waist, he bounces you on his cock until the pleasure borders on pain and a secondary shock rolls through him like another orgasm, stealing his breath. Only then does he finally slow, mouthing languidly at your chest until he sucks your nipple into his mouth. He moans against you, grinding to an eventual halt. You comb your fingers through his hair and goosebumps erupt across his body, which shivers in the euphoric aftermath.

He loses track of how long he stays suspended like that, lost to the overwhelm of sensation. Your legs go slack while his angles slightly upward, his face pressed to your chest, your head resting atop his. He nuzzles at you, bleary eyed and slack with pleasure. He kisses a trail up to your clavicle, your throat, your jaw, smiling in the loose, easy way that only a good fuck can never make him.

“Wow,” he says after a while, voice thoroughly frayed.

You giggle, groggily lifting your head. He adjusts until you can relax against his chest, fold your forearms across it and settling your chin atop them, admiring him. He touches your face with his ungloved hand, stroking your cheek with his thumb, then the curve of your bottom lip. His smile widens when you kiss the pad of his thumb.

“Wow indeed,” you say, swinging your legs lightly. “Can’t say I’ve ever been fucked mid-air.”

“One of the many benefits of dating me,” he purrs, caressing your cheek with his knuckles. He kisses you again, drifting slowly back down, unhurried.

Your brows lift lazily. “Who says we’re dating?” You ask, but your smile keeps his hackles from rising.

“Me,” he says, eyes crinkled at the corners. He lands gently on the desk, helping you to it. “You and I are officially going steady.”

You give a thoughtful hum, carefully untangling your limbs from his. You slide off of the desk while he puts himself back together, your knees trembling faintly. “Fairly sure asking someone out requires a question mark. You know. The asking part. You didn’t even buy me dinner.” You attempt to button up your shirt, but it’s obviously a lost cause.

He exhales a quiet laugh, pulling you back into his arms. “Well, I certainly ate.”

“God,” you laugh, rolling your eyes, but they don’t stray from him for long. There’s a sparkle to your gaze that he wants to capture in his palm and never set loose.

“Will you go out with me?” He asks, lips brushing yours.

“Mmmmmmmm….” You hum once more, drawing it out, feigning a great deliberation. “There’s something you should know first.”

He quirks a brow. “What’s that?”

“My guilty pleasure,” you say, nose bumping his.

Intrigued, he inclines his head to prompt you to continue. Can’t be worse than mine.

“Superheroes,” you say conspiratorially. “Can’t get enough of them. Loved them my whole life. Especially this one in particular…”

He breaks into a frayed, charmed laugh. “Let me guess, name starts with an H?”

You suck in a breath through your teeth, lips curved downward in a mock grimace, and nod subtly. “ Total fangirl. Embarrassing, right?”

Homelander shakes his head. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never felt guilty about pleasure. Where’s the harm in it?”

The harm inflicted on those thugs couldn’t count. They had it coming.

“Harm to my pride, my ego, my reputation,” you list, tapping his suit to punctuate each one. “I made a pretty big fuss about not liking you. I had myself convinced that my Homelander only existed in my fantasies, and you were just the guy who plays him.”

My Homelander. The words stir an unexpectedly sentimental surge of emotion that wells up from somewhere deep in his chest. He clears his throat lightly. “What’s the verdict now?”

You sweep him with an appraising gaze. “Still deliberating.”

He clicks his tongue, nodding. “I don’t suppose I could arrange a meeting with the jury?”

“They’re available for dinner tomorrow,” you say, the tilt of your lips sly.

“It’s a date,” he murmurs, brushing the tip of his nose against yours. You kiss him, pressing your smile to his. He doubts he’ll ever tire of the softness of your lips, or the easy way you melt against him. He wraps his arms around you, content to let this moment pass only because he knows there will be more to come. He’s determined to make every one of them better than the last.

All of the pleasure, none of the guilt.

#homelander x reader #homelander x you #homelander fanfiction #my writing #x reader #yandere x reader

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soap-ify · 4 months

Note

can I ask for some general fluff headcanons for our soapy boy?

AT YOUR SERVICE ANON!! i don't usually do hcs but i wanted an excuse to ramble about him. so i present you soap hcs that start off as general but gets oddly specific!

cw — very fluffy and mildly suggestive at some places.

˙ᵕ˙ (not so) general soap hcs !

the most widely known thing is that johnny is clingy as hell. annoying but you really wouldn’t have it any other way. he is always holding onto you tight, never letting you go even if you’re desperate to get out of the bed for a shower or some breakfast. the only time he’d sometimes let you go is when you’re running late for work. he likes having his arm around your waist all the time, nuzzling his head into your neck and smothering you with kisses without any shame in front of others, especially the taskforce. is this his weird little way of marking you? maybe.

very open about how much he loves you. he’s always speaking his mind, telling you about every single thing he loves about you, all your quirks and habits.

can’t imagine this man ever being a cheater. i imagine him being raised by his mother quite well, and god forbid if he ever cheats, his mother is going to be so angry. he has been taught to treat his lovers in the best manner possible. and so he does. even if he is very playful and just awful at courting, always too eager, he still buys you lots of flowers and takes you on dates, giving you all the love that he has.

he likes hugging your leg. like actually. you’re laying down? he’s beneath you, arms wrapped around your legs, hugging it tight while his face is resting on your upper thigh. he can’t even explain why he does it.

he LOVES it when you press kisses on his crows feet. the same thing with the scar on his chin!

this man watched blade runner 2049 once and had an identity crisis for a whole week. you were concerned.

there is this very specific type of french fries that he likes with certain toppings that he can’t really find in any other fast food place and it annoys him to hell.

he begs you to match with him. it can be from watches that come in pairs for couples or maybe keychains! just match with him or else he’ll be pouty for the whole week.

once when johnny was drunk, he showed you his huge art journal. you weren’t even surprised to know that more than half of the pages were just drawings of you.

johnny loves having strangely deep and philosophical conversations with you late at night. sometimes he just can’t sleep, feeling too active and energetic. if you are luckily awake too, be prepared to question the meaning of life and the existence of everything around you both with him.

he is so disgusting when it comes to sending gym pics (you love it). all flushed and glistening with sweat, he’d be sending your mirror selfies while flexing his muscles, a proud happy grin always adorning your looks.

has a mole on his inner thigh and on his right shoulder! you love kissing them so much.

he bites. hide before he bites your tummy.

he loves taking you to snowy mountains and showing you around his homeland! expect to be attacked with lots of snowballs by him, he really doesn’t show any mercy.

loves drawing on your thighs if you’d let him. he would grab a marker or a paintbrush, drawing pretty things on your skin, loving the way you would giggle at the ticklish feeling. he might accidentally touch your other ticklish spots too just to hear you laugh.

i am a firm believer of johnny having sisters and being the only son in the family! he’d take you to meet his family once, and his sisters showed you all of his childhood pictures while telling you of his silly actions, all while johnny was in the back, face all red.

he can knit! learnt it from his eldest sister. he likes knitting you sweaters or gloves, always choosing your favourite colour.

#anon im sorry if i overdid it I HAVE SO MANY THOUGHTS ABOUT HIM!!#he has a whole house in my head at this point #he lives there permanently #soap x reader #john mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #john mactavish #john soap mactavish #soap mw2 #cod x reader #cod fluff #call of duty #ruru mail

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kneelingshadowsalome · 5 months

Note

Hey i just read some of your fics and i can’t lie..IM. IN. LOVE!!!! I absolutely adore your writing style too! When i saw you wrote something that included Roman Empire I screamed lol.

I was curious tho how would König from that au would’ve react to his lover being tired and pregnant carrying his heir. (Pregnancy kink alert) and their sex life looks during pregnancy 👀.

(This is not a *fic* fic, I just love to do these cute little moodboards! lmao)

Roman!König gets so fussy when his little fairy gets pregnant 🥺

Their new hut is barely even built before she notices that her moonblood no longer arrives. When she tells König the good news, he's already the happiest man in the world but now he's about to burst from joy. All his dreams are finally coming true!

König is so proud of his queen, but he's also proud of himself. He’s been working hard every day – as a man should! – hunting and fishing and building their new home and making love to his woman, basically toiling from sunrise to sunset. Now that there's a baby on the way, he can finally catch his breath and concentrate on taking care of his wife and finishing the roof for their new house ❤️

And lovemaking! There's lots of it in the first months, but when the baby starts to grow, König refuses to "bully" her before the child is born. Says that in his homeland people believe that it can hurt the baby if a man tries to get an already pregnant woman pregnant again. As much as he would love to do his daily duties, he can't risk the health of their child so it will simply have to wait.

Man starts to talk to her belly before even a month has passed, and in his own crude language too. Doesn't see how his fairy queen is rolling her eyes at this – even a mighty warrior turns into a simpleton when they've managed to get a woman pregnant, it seems.

She’s not jealous, per se, she just thinks he’s being a bit silly :/ König likes to ramble to the baby even more than he rambles to her these days, and the baby bump is not even visible yet! And when it is, gods, he gets even more silly. Every morning König gives her a kiss, then goes down to her belly and gives the baby a kiss too, then says Guten Morgen with a wide, cheerful smile.

It’s nice to see that at least someone here is happy, because she’s not having it easy; her back and knees hurt all the time, she wakes up five times during the night, her feet are always sore, she has to pee constantly, and her appetite is gone. König isn't really helping: he tries to feed her all the time “to make the baby strong” and gets worried if she doesn’t eat enough.

So it's a good thing that König has his little building project going on, otherwise he would go mad :/ Man is working hard to build the animal pens before winter, hunt the food, and do some carpentry such as make them a sturdy enough bed (...) that he dozes off in the evening after eating three large bowls of stew. These two lovebirds are soon sleeping under a pile of furs, with König's large hand protectively over Fee's tummy while the embers in the firepit offer them warmth through the night ❤️

And if Fee was treated like a queen before, now she's almost like a goddess. Barely gets to prepare the food because König doesn't want Fee to exert herself. The only thing she's allowed to do is weave (they have this cute little vertical loom), and if she ever looks tired, König will order her to rest and comes to pet her head or massage her feet.

Starts to excitedly talk about how he will teach the child how to run and wrestle and hunt and fight, be it boy or a girl. He has to teach their little wolf cub to fend for itself if need be, right? When Fee cuts in and says that if it’s a girl she can always marry a strong husband, König looks at her in shock. His baby girl, marrying some ugly, big brute who just wants to force his head under her dress?? There's no way he’ll let that happen!

#roman!könig #Roman AU #historical au #roman!könig is a bit of a girl dad

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zepskies · 1 year

Text

SOLDIER BOY MASTERLIST

(**Notes 18+ only and/or smut) Stories are Soldier Boy x Reader unless otherwise noted.

Checkerboard** You’re not a supe. You’re breakable. Soldier Boy sometimes forgets that.

In the Dark You and Ben have tackled the insurmountable together, but no one said the recovery would be easy.

Love Actually** Ben gets in late on Christmas Eve with a Grinch-like attitude, but you’re determined to force some holiday cheer into his system.

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 - Complete

Strong As Blood** After you accidentally break through a solid wood table, you know there’s something wrong with you. You begin to have your suspicions, but can you keep it from Ben long enough to find out?

(In other words: This is the story of how you and Ben discover that you’re pregnant.)

Part 1 || Part 2 - Complete

Until Morning A quiet moment between you, Ben, and your newborn daughter.

Green** Ben spends the day alone with his daughter, to varying degrees of success. When you get home, it prompts a serious conversation.

Calculated Risks You and Ben argue about your commitment to being a working mom. When a rogue supe gets loose at Supe Affairs, mayhem ensues, putting not only your life at risk, but your daughter’s as well.

Break Me Down**

You’re a private investigator by trade, but now you happily sit at a desk — leading a surveillance team at Supe Affairs. After managing to end Homelander in New York, Soldier Boy escapes custody. You are recruited for the manhunt, joining Butcher’s team.

Truly, you joined the S.A. for the right reasons. But after you become his accidental hostage, Soldier Boy will break down every single one of them.

Series Complete

Wake Me Up** - COMING MAY 5/03! A few weeks after you and Ben celebrate your first Christmas together, he is returning from another mission with the Supe Affairs team. When he discovers that you’ve been taken, he’ll do whatever it takes to find you. And then, to help you heal.

Soldier Boy & Halloween 🎃😈 What would Soldier Boy be like on Halloween with his girlfriend?

Repaying Soldier Boy for a job well done. 😏 How he would react to his girlfriend randomly slapping his ass.

Ben gets a little payback. 😌 How you react to your boyfriend randomly slapping you on the ass.

Taking Ben to a 90's themed club.** 🕺🏻 He doesn't want to go, but you encourage him to "loosen up."

Getting jealous.** 💚 Ben needs new clothes, but the shop girls think your boyfriend is fair game. (BMD-verse)

Ben’s reaction to his girlfriend on her period.❣️ How he takes care of you. (BMD-verse)

Playing with Soldier Boy's hair. 🧔🏻 This "head"-canon includes soft!Ben.

Soldier Boy dating a supe with siren abilities. 🧜‍♀️ He underestimates you. You give him a reason to think twice.

The way you love Ben's hands.** 👌🏼 Headcanon includes comparing hand sizes, Tarzan & Jane-style.

Headcanon:** How Dean Winchester, Beau Arlen, and Soldier Boy (Ben) would react to seeing your breast reduction scars. ❤️‍🩹

Ben loses you. 💔 Includes a "twist" ending... (BMD-verse)

Talk to Me 💞 In the wake of his vivid nightmare, you confront Ben about his fears and get him to open up. [Sequel to "Ben loses you."] (BMD-verse)

Headcanon: How Dean Winchester, Beau Arlen, and Soldier Boy (Ben) would make up for pissing you off. 😤

Sample the Menu 🤤 What happens when you interrupt Ben while he's cooking?

Headcanon: How Dean Winchester, Beau Arlen, and Soldier Boy (Ben) would react to you teasing him under the table. 😉

Headcanon: How Dean Winchester, Beau Arlen, and Soldier Boy (Ben) would react to you getting "morning" sickness during pregnancy. 🤢

Soldier Boy getting jealous... 💚🇫🇷 Of your past relationship with Frenchie.

The Boys Masterlist

Main Masterlist

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mysteriawrites · 5 months

Text

Ice Skating with Them

Ft. Luxiem

An: I’ve never ice skated before so these will probably be very short.

Luca Kaneshiro:

As expected Luca will mainly try and goof around on the ice.

He’s a pretty athletic guy so I imagine he has a good sense of balance and control over his body. Therefore I don’t think skating will be that hard for him to learn if he doesn’t already know how.

If you know to skate then he’ll mainly just skate around you and try to do funny tricks to impress you.

If you don’t know how to skate he’ll teach you the best he can. He’ll be very gentle and patient, taking it slow so you don’t fear falling and having complete faith and confidence in you.

Once you get the hang of it he’ll be very proud of you and congratulate you but still will try and stay near you incase you fall.

Shu Yamino:

Despite not being one to touch grass much, Shu is one of those people that’s just good at everything so I think he’s also good at ice skating or at least decent at it.

If you don’t know how, he’ll skate in front of you holding both your hands and giving you words of affirmation and encouragement.

It’s kind of like when a parent or older sibling is teaching someone to ride a bike for the first time and yet he doesn’t make it feel condescending at all.

If you do know how to skate he’ll mainly watch you and ask you to show him some moves.

He’s mainly just here to chill cause you wanted to go and he’s down for doing anything you want to do.

Ike Eveland:

It’s actually canon that Ike knows how to skate. Not only is he Swedish, but he was also a pretty athletic person before arriving in this time period despite his nerdy aura.

He’ll be very excited to skate with you. For him it’s like sharing a part of his childhood and activities from his homeland with you.

If you don’t know how to skate he’ll be more than happy to teach you. Like Shu and Luca he’ll ne calm and patience and share words of encouragement, but I also feel like he’d be a bit more demonstrative and precise.

Demonstrating exactly how you have to move your body and positioning your in the best stance to not fall. Very hands on if you know what I mean ;).

If you know how to skate then he’ll be thrilled and it’ll turn into a romantic montage of you two skating and having fun on the ice before heading home and having hot coco in front of the fire.

Mysta Rias:

Does not know how to skate at all. He’s even slightly afraid to. He flails around like a clumsy foal.

If you don’t know how to skate then unless you two plan on clingy to each other for dear life the whole time or got dragged into going by a friend, then you probably wouldn’t go.

If you do know how to skate and managed to somehow convince him to come with you, then expect to have a screaming fox clingy to you the whole time.

You can try to teach him how to skate, but I don’t imagine it’d go very well…

Yeah you guys are probably better off just building a snow man or something.

Vox Akuma:

I feel like Vox would act like he knows how to skate to impress you, but when it actually comes down to having to skate he looks like a baby giraffe learning to stand for the first time.

He’ll have the idea in his mind of you guys romantically holding hands and skating gracefully across the ice, but instead he’s clinging to the wall for dear life.

If you don’t know how to skate, then that makes him feel a bit better and less embarrassed. Either he’ll suggest you two learn together and you’ll have a lot of fun laughing and falling over, or he’ll suggest y’all just go home and do something else.

If you do know how to skate however, he may be a bit pouty and embarrassed. He will let you teach him though so he can impress you and sweep you off your feet in the future.

Goofy demon man is trying his best.

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kotir-propaganda · 10 months

Text

Mossflower has so much going for it, like I’m not even being biased because my blorbo is in it. I will die on the hill of it being Best Redwall Book for several reasons.

-It’s as early Redwall as you can get without actually being Book 1. As such, it avoids a lot of subjects and patterns that would later become repetitive tropes... but it also avoids the Book 1 jankiness of horses and human structures and the implied existence of Portugal. The world as we will come to know it feels more or less fully realized here. The abbey’s not here yet, but its foundation literally is- and we also get our first look at Salamandastron and the extent of Mossflower Wood as a whole.

-It has some of the most solid protagonists around. The legendary hero Martin is here, but he’s at a low point for most of the story and has to work his way up to that legacy! And this is where he does it, this is what future Redwallers remember him for, not the events of Martin the Warrior. Also, Gonff is here? Hello? Maybe the single most charismatic character in the series? Not to mention Dinny, how often does a humble mole actually get to go on a quest in these books?

-This isn’t even getting into how badass all the rest of the woodlanders are, too, but... they absolutely are. This is a small band of rebels that’s been driven from their little houses, they don’t have the luxury of those huge sandstone walls to protect them, but they’re still fighting like hell and outsmarting their enemies to boot. Some of them are seasoned fighters, but some of them are just ordinary families, all banding together to take back their homeland. And they keep it up the whole time! They’re not just waiting around for a guy with a sword to tell them what to do!

-The villains are probably the most nuanced in the whole series. Seriously. There are four whole wildcats here (don’t forget Sandingomm!) and only ONE of them is unquestionably evil. It’s absolutely implied that Verdauga was a fearsome warlord in his day, but if nothing else, he raised ONE kid who turned out to be about as Lawful Good as you can get, and he actually scolds Tsarmina for being mean to her brother!! I wish we could have spent a little more time with Verdauga, honestly, I have so many questions for this man.

-There are a decent handful of morally grey characters here, actually. Chibb spies for the woodlanders, but he’s not the most dependable and is motivated by payment more than sympathy to their cause. Snakefish allies with our questing heroes, but he minces no words in warning them that he’ll just as soon eat them if it comes down to it. Even Argulor is really just out here looking for a bite to eat and can you really blame him, because ashleg is a snack

-Tsarmina herself is irredeemably cruel, but even still there are multiple facets to her. On one hand, she’s scary- big and powerful and ready to rip into anything/anyone with her bare claws. At the same time she can be a clever strategist when she wants to be- poisoning her father and framing her brother, and later manipulating two of her obstacles, Argulor and Bane, into taking each other out. And still yet it can be kind of funny to watch her in action, as she gets humiliated by the resistance on multiple occasions. And maybe there is even a little pathos there, as we see her mind start to slip, and get some glimpse into the deep fear and paranoia that completely overtake her at the end.

-There are just great supporting characters on both sides. Mask is amazing, Fortunata is fantastic. And yeah, Blorbo Supreme Ashleg is here, and I don’t NEED to write a whole essay about him to promote Mossflower as a whole but... having him here is nice! It helps!! May we all follow his example and pursue happier lives for ourselves!!!

-Mossflower laid the foundation for so many events and characters of later books. I mean yeah, it’s a prequel. It’s there to support the first book and by extension, everything that comes after. But so many other great titles in the series have a direct line to Mossflower, from Outcast to Long Patrol to Lord Brocktree and more. Did you enjoy those books? You’re welcome. The threads were already there, just waiting to be expanded upon.

-at one point a wooden leg gets used as a projectile weapon and if you don’t think that’s the best thing ever, I don’t know what else to tell you buddy

#redwall #mossflower

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z3nitsusgf · 2 years

Note

Homelander-soulmate angst coming your way! There is nothing better than when a villainous character gets a taste of regret, remorse, and sadness.

I can imagine Homelander going a bit too far one day to keep his soulmate in line one day after a misunderstanding makes it look like they were trying to run. He responds by pushing them back- which has the reader flying across the room. The breath is knocked out of them and they’re unconscious. HL panics as he realizes just how much he loves them (re: relies on them) and doesn’t want them to die. He also is regretful because the reader wasn’t trying to run at all.

They wake up in a hospital bed, and HL is all teary eyed and remorseful - trying to get the reader to forgive him so that they can “move past this.” He goes from not caring what they want or think, to being overly doting. He gets stressed out when he sees the reader doing things for themselves, and insists they should be recovering.

He is also experiencing his own angst at having his soulmate flinch every time he reaches for them. And he’s not sure whether he wants to make them a supe or just take them away from society, in a secret house somewhere.

Reader isn’t sure how long it’s going to last and can’t escape the feeling that there’s something else going on, especially when HL spends a long time talking to their doctor, and Vought scientists.

Bonus points if the reader loses their empathy after the head injury 😈

gripping my hair, this is so &*@^($*(

I was just thinking about what would happen if he accidentally killed his soulmate because let's face it - he hurts you, whether by accident or on purpose. He's unstable, and after Madelyn and Ryan, he just can't help himself. So you know what it's like to have to go to Vought nurses, you know what broken wrists feel like. You know what his burn marks can do, the scarred scorched flesh on your shoulder proves it.

But I do think if a misunderstanding happened he'd be more irritated than anything. Why didn't you just tell him you were going out to get dinner for him? It’s your fault for acting so suspicious, he was only trying to keep you in line - protect you from the real bad guys out there. He didn’t mean to slam you so hard, you’re just so weak - all it takes is a mild-mannered shove and you’re crashing into the glass table. It’s so forceful and powerful you think your lungs cave in on impact. Flashes of him gripping your throat fade into your bleeding mind, but to be honest you don’t remember much from passing out because of the pain.

Of course, when you don’t get up there’s a panicky feeling in his throat. He’s looking down at you and his fingers twitch, why aren’t you getting up? You look so soft, crumpled on the shattered glass and with rings of bruise-shape fingertips on your neck, he can hardly hear your pulse and that makes him want to vomit. But it’s so clear to him when the bag of food rests on the counter, his favorite sitting in the small styrofoam container. His lips tug down and he bites his cheek, you’re so sweet to him even when you shouldn’t be.

He tries to rationalize it in his head after while he sits beside your hospital bed (provided by Vought of course, we can't have the public knowing he battered nearly killed his soulmate). Hands smoothing over his face as he stares at your body, hooked up to wires and IV, he’ll feel that pinch in his chest. I think at that moment he realizes how truly fragile you are. Delicate like a baby bird, brittle bones and paper-thin skin that splits so easily if he applies too much pressure.

When doctors tell him you might not wake, or that you might be scatter-brained from the head injury - he rages. Tearing apart his apartment and flying out into the city to cause havoc. He burns down the restaurant where you got the food. It’s the first time ever he’s ever felt like he could lose.

Homelander acts uncanny when you open your eyes for the first time. Kneeling next to your bed and pressing peppered kisses on your face, he’s muttering things like “You’re okay, I’m here.” and “I thought you weren’t gonna come back to me.” While cupping your face and nuzzling his cheeks to yours. It’s not until he feels you trembling and gasping with unrestrained sobs that he realizes how truly fucked he is.

Your heart is pounding, pulse racing so widely he’s worried you’ll have a heart attack. Not even him shushing you or caressing your face makes it better, in fact you squeeze your eyes shut to avoid looking at him. You’re whimpering, “please, please don’t hurt me again.” While salty tears stream down your face, your hands trying to shakily push him back. Homelander usually revels in it, the intoxicating smell of fear. But this time, he’s clenching his jaw at the way you wail and try to climb out of the bed and away from him. He knows exactly what he’s done and it doesn’t feel good this time.

When nurses rush in and gently move him out of the way, he watches as they sedate you. Listening to your pulse slow and your breathing go back to normal. The doctors voice is like static in his head, he doesn’t pay attention to anything she says.

He just hopes you can “move past it” at some point. And if not, that’s alright - he’ll be there for you regardless.

#he’s so horrible I hate him #soyboyantics. 💌#valeries mailbox 📫#homelander x reader #homelander x you #the boys x reader

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crow-stars · 4 months

Text

❝LET'S GO ICE SKATING❞

❦summary; ice skating can be such a fun time, though that may depend on whether you're new to the rink or have a bit of experience under your belt. ♪the characters in this story; savannaclaw; leona kingscholar, ruggie bucchi, jack howl, gn!reader ✎word count; ~626 words ❀what do the ghosts say?; ambiguous, school trip to an ice skating rink, falling chatacters, first times on ice, mentions of climates in respective twst characters homeland, fun times ☛the author's notes; nothing to note... ☪look at the catalogue?

❛LEONA KINGSCHOLAR❜

❀ Leona would not come on the ice willingly

❀ Convince him please

❀ It would be really hard to get him onto the ice because he does not want to go ice skating

❀ If you do manage to get him on the ice, congratulations! Now you have to convince him to move.

❀ No, I’m serious, even if he gets onto the ice, he won’t be moving.

❀ Like, he’s just standing there, hands in his pockets and that usual stare on his face

❀ Now, I don’t think Leona has ever really encountered ice since he lives in the Sunset Savanna

❀ Though it does get really cold at night in savannas I think, so he would be used to the cold

❀ Leona would be the type of person to wear short sleeves during the cold seasons and say it’s not cold enough

❀ Anyways, I think he’d hate ice skating

❀ Leona would definitely prefer to be inside than out here on the ice

❀ You will have to drag him along with you to get him to actually move around on the ice

❀ And after like thirty minutes he says he’s tired and will get off the ice with you in tow

❀ You wanted to keep skating?

❀ Too bad, you’re going back to the dorm home with Leona and will be drinking a hot cup of hot choccy

❀ But I think that would be nice too

❛RUGGIE BUCCHI❜

❀ Okay, I think he’d enjoy ice skating actually

❀ I think Ruggie would actually kinda like ice skating

❀ Like, he’s going so fast, look at him go!

❀ Half the time he’s like “look at me!” and tries to do something, and fails

❀ He doesn’t take it against him and he’s quick to get back up to try again

❀ I think he’d be one to try to encourage you to join him as well

❀ It’s cute, to see him being all giddy and stuff.

❀ Please watch him, he’ll get so happy and a happy Ruggie is adorable.

❀ I think he’d actually really like ice skating due to the fact that he didn’t have many opportunities for leisure back home and it doesn’t snow in the Sunset Savanna

❀ Imagine him rambling about wanting to take the kids from his hometown ice skating oh my gosh

❀ Ruggie would definitely want to come back again, but this time somehow manage to bring the other kids to mess around on the ice

❀ He wouldn’t mind going one on one, but Ruggie would probably wanna bring others along

❀ And, afterwords, you can treat him to hot chocolate, hehehe

❛JACK HOWL❜

❀ Like Trey, he knows how to ice skate

❀ Except, this time, he does it not only out of necessity but for himself as well

❀ He has two younger siblings, so he has to make sure that they aren’t breaking their noses on the ice

❀ But I think he also wanted to learn from like an exercise standpoint

❀ Like, I don’t know what bones or muscles you exercise during ice skating, but Jack definitely wants to exercise those

❀ I looked it up, you’re exercising your legs

❀ Anyway

❀ I definitely think that ice skating would be a nice freetime activity for Jack when time and weather permits

❀ So Jack is pretty stable when it comes to being on the ice

❀ Even Ace won’t be able to drag him down

❀ I like think that Jack would like pick one of his friends up and skate around with them in his arms

❀ Picked up from under the arms and held up like a cat

❀ Jack would probably be off doing his own thing on the ice

❀ Though if you or any of his friends are having trouble on the ice, Jack would probably skate over to help

❀ He would definitely give tips on ice skating if you want

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hom3landr · 11 months

Text

Martyr Complex

18+

CW: CNC and Painplay

Homelander x Supe Reader

“If you were in my position, what would you do to you?”

You asked for this. That’s what you tell yourself as you sit alone in the pitch black room. Your wrists ache from where they’ve been tied to the chair, some special Vought invention wrapped around your wrists to suppress your abilities. All the buzz that normally overwhelms your mind is eerily silent. Everything you feel is you. Which means you’ll have no edge when he finally comes to you.

You test your restraints but they remain as unyielding as ever despite your superhuman strength. You’re not sure how long you’ve been in this cell. You’re pretty sure it’s been over an hour but time seems to move funny in the dark. You’re sure he’s laughing as he watches you squirm. For all his power, he loves to play mind games, loves to pick away at someone till they are weak and exposed. You’re a perfect target.

Heavy footsteps echo outside the door and your body breaks out into a cold sweat. Your suit sticks uncomfortably to your damp skin and it only adds to the sensation of being trapped. You hadn’t expected to be so rattled but the reality of everything makes you realize what you’ve gotten yourself into.

You asked for this

You wince in pain as the door opens, causing the room to be flooded by the residual fluorescent light of the hallway. Your eyes need a moment to adjust so all you’re able to make out is a menacing blur in the doorway. You don’t need to make out any features to know exactly who decided to join. Homelander has finally arrived.

The anxiety from before remains but the sight of Homelander’s stern face and rigid posture cause heat to pool between your legs. It’s a confusing juxtaposition and your body doesn’t know whether to attempt an escape or beckon him closer. Not that you’re currently able to do either. You’re chained and entirely at his mercy…if someone like him even has mercy. He tilts his head appraisingly and you try to swallow past the ever-growing lump in your throat.

He’s terrifying.

He raps sharply on the edge of the doorframe three times and that’s when you know the game has begun.

He flips a switch, lighting up the room with more of that fluorescent glare. The room is plain and the white walls give it a clinical atmosphere that sets you on edge. Your eyes are finally starting to properly adjust but you think you’d prefer the comfort of the dark. At least then you wouldn’t be able to see the cold way he stares at you, as though you’re simply an annoying rock in his shoe. You feel so small in his presence. With your mental powers dimmed, you only have your strength to protect you. You know that won’t be enough. You grasp the icy metal arms of the chair you’re bound to until you feel it start to give under your fingers. It’s not enough to release you but the effort helps steady your mind. You desperately need some stability now that he’s closing the both of you off from the outside world. The gentle thud of the door closing causes you to jolt slightly.

“Fancy seeing you here!” He exclaims with a smile that bares a little too much fang for your comfort. He’s talking to you like he just ran into you on the street. It’s scarier than if he went right into the meat of things. He’s pacing around the chair, causing you to twist painfully if you want to keep him in your field of vision. Who knows what he’ll do when he’s out of your sight.

“It’s such a coincidence. It’s not like you had Noir shove my head in a bag and hide me away or anything.” You spit out. You’ll play the game. You’ve come this far, even though the way his cheek twitches makes your chest tight.

“I just brought you here to have a little chat. Teammate to teammate. After all, It’s my job as your captain to make sure your performance is satisfactory and I’m sorry to say, you’ve fallen just short of the finish line” He tuts at you like a disappointed parent.

“Are you going to tell me what I’ve done wrong or do you wanna continue to play coy?” You shift in your seat as you try to ignore the anxious flutters in your stomach from being the focus of his undivided attention. There’s an intensity to him that makes even casual exchanges feel charged and this is far from casual. You’re at his mercy and you both know it.

“I hand picked you for the Seven. Did you know that? You had such…promise. I’m reluctant to admit it but we’ve had some weak links make it into the Seven. But you…you were supposed to be different.” He finally settles behind you, resting his hands heavy on your shoulders. “I mean…your powers?! Being able to predict everything that will happen within a short timespan? Pretty useful if you ask me.”

“Yet I’m still tied to a chair.” You grumble, looking down at the innocuous silver bands that have robbed you of your ability to know what’s coming. You’re unnerved that Vought either had them laying around or Homelander got them specially made. Neither of those options are reassuring.

“Look, nobody is perfect. Except maybe me but certainly not someone like you. I expect a few mistakes now and then but leaking confidential information?” His grip on your shoulders tightens as he lectures you. You’d have bruises if you weren’t a supe. Now that you know the angle he’s going with, it’s easier to relax into the role. The anxiety is still there but you have your bearings

“I didn’t leak shit!” You reply angrily, trying not to flinch away from him when he leans down. You can feel the warmth emanating from his body and you break out into goosebumps. There’s always been something about his scent that makes you feel a little wobbly. You remember your first meeting where he shook your hand and the subtle smell of his cologne made your knees shake. The sudden shock of arousal amidst the nervous pounding of your heart makes you lightheaded.

“Watch your language, Dear. You don’t want me to lose my temper.” He practically growls in your ear. The most delicious chill goes down your spine and some of your initial terror is being replaced by the hot aching pulse between your legs. Not knowing what’s coming next is freeing even while you’re still restrained. It’s like the first time Homelander took you flying.

“I’m pretty sure it’s too late for that. So just get on with torture. You won’t get anything out of me!” You snarl at him. He stiffens and you brace yourself for what comes next. You’re surprised when he chuckles darkly, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. One gloved hand leaves your shoulder to wrap around your throat from behind, he’s not cutting off your air yet but the pressure makes you dizzy regardless. Your nipples perk up under the thin white spandex of your suit and there is no way that he doesn’t notice.

“I think I will. I think you’ll be begging to reveal all your dirty little secrets once I’m done with you.” He growls.

Your stomach drops like you’d just crested the hill of a rollercoaster. He’s scary. He’s scary and it almost scares you with how much you like it. You find yourself taking deeper breaths, just to feel the press of his hand. You almost forget that you’re here to play a role.

“Do it then. Get fucking creative because I can’t tell you things I don’t know.” You retort. His grip on your throat doesn’t tighten but he adjusts so his thumb is pressed directly over your pulse. It’s a silent reminder of how truly vulnerable you are, he doesn’t need to use strength when simply the knowledge of his power is enough to set your heart pounding. His other hand finally leaves your shoulder to roughly pinch your hardened nipple. You squeal at the unexpected assault and flush when you feel the way your suit now clings to your needy cunt.

“You asked for it, I don’t want to hear you whining later when my creativity is too much for you” He’s fucking purring while you’re squirming and dripping all over the shiny metal of the chair you’re bound to.

He leans down once more to nip at your pulse, making sure you feel the graze of his teeth against the tender skin. He’s starving for it. He can’t fucking wait to show you just what he’s capable of.

“Tell me, if you were in my position, what would you do to you?”

You know exactly what you’d do.

“Spank me and send me to bed without supper.” You scoff, despite the way that you’re trembling. He snorts, nuzzling against your temple as if he wasn’t already scheming about how to punish you. He rubs gentle circles around your still tender nipple.

“That’s what you want? You want Daddy to spank you? Hmmm. I’m sorry, I just don’t trust you to be a good girl while I put you over my knee. Any other suggestions? I’m all ears.” He chuckles while your own ears go up flames at his bold statement. He’d never called himself that before and it makes you feel all hazy and uprooted.

“I thought you were going to be creative? It looks like I’m doing all the work.” Your voice trembles more than you’d like. He doesn’t answer right away, he just hums as he continues to toy with your nipple. His hand finally leaves your throat, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear almost tenderly.

“Did you know that historically when children were naughty, it was common to make them pick their own switches for their punishment? See, it wasn’t the punishment itself that was anything novel. It was the anticipation of being complicit in your own destruction. So you will tell me how you should be punished and when you’re begging for mercy, you’ll have no one to blame but yourself.” His voice lowers to a growl and fuck, You really underestimate how clever Homelander can be when he really sets his mind to something. You don’t have to look at him to picture the smug curve of his lips and the dark twinkle in his eye.

FUCK

You’re gonna have to choose, aren’t you?

“I want you to spank me” You spit out through gritted teeth. Shame twists in your gut despite the fact that he’s definitely spanked you before. But something about this feels different…dirty.

He hums, taking a moment to straighten up. Every slow footstep as he walks around to the front has you fighting the urge to flinch. He stops, arms held imposingly behind his back, erection straining against suit, and softly smiles as he takes in your vulnerable state. Despite still being fully clothed, you’re still completely bare before him. People joke that they feel like someone is undressing them with their eyes, but Homelander literally can.

“Are you sure? I think you can do better than that” He clicks his tongue as he looks down his nose at you. You swallow thickly.

“Please, I want you to spank me. I…I want you to spank till I behave.” You plead, face all prickly and hot. You cringe at your own begging, especially when Homelander throws his head back with a throaty laugh. You don’t miss the way his cock twitches at your pleading. He’s practically bursting at the seams but he seems perfectly content to drag out your humiliation.

“You’re gonna have to ask really nicely if this is what you want.” He smirks, eyes roaming your body. “How can I trust you to behave when you can’t even remember your manners?”

You flinch once you realize what he’s getting at. You test your restraints one more time but once more all it proves is that you are helpless to his whims.

“I want Daddy to spank me” You whisper, the heat building low and syrupy in your stomach. There’s a dark twinkle in his eye that twists your insides into knots. It’s the same one he has before he fucks someone over. It’s the same one he has when the person on the other end should expect to have a very bad time.

Fuck

You chose wrong

You resist the urge to flinch when he cocks his head. You reach for your powers, desperate to feel that familiar warning prickle, that peek into the future that allows you to stay ahead of any opponent. Instead, there’s just ominous silence and that ever present aching throb between your legs. It’s both freeing and smothering at once. The cold metal suppressing your powers is both torture and salvation. Homelander is the cruel judge who will decide which way the scale will lean. You’re the sacrificial lamb, your weeping cunt anointing the altar upon which your fate will be sealed.

“Thaaaaat’s better.” He croons, his voice soft and condescending…and poisonous. “Only I think you forgot one teeny tiny detail. I don’t trust you to be a good girl while I put you over my knee. So I guess this will just have to do”

Before you have time to process his reply, he crouches and rips a hole in the crotch of your suit with all the effort of someone tearing wrapping paper off of a present. You gasp as the cold air hits your wet, vulnerable, sensitive cunt that is now the focus of his conniving gaze. Your breath starts to catch in your chest with every exhale. You can’t squirm. You can’t hide yourself from him. Time slows to a stop and when Homelander finally moves, it seems to happen in slow motion as he raises his hand.

SLAP

You wail

He brings his gloved hand down once more upon your smarting clit and the sound it makes is obscene. The hot burning sting only increases as he presses his palm against you, the leather soft as you sob at the intensity of the sensation. You know he’s holding back his strength but it doesn’t feel like it. His strikes were ruthless and calculated. You struggle to catch your breath as he pulls back to administer another harsh slap.

“Awwww I made you cry…and here I thought you wanted me to get creative.” He chuckles at the tears beginning to stream down your cheeks. He’s so mean as he gives you exactly what you asked for. After all, it’s not his fault you didn’t specify where you wanted him to spank you.

The most humiliating part of this whole ordeal is not the indignity of the act but rather how each strike sounds more and more wet. Despite the pain, your clit is swollen and desperate under his touch, craving anything he is willing to give you. He alternates between short precise attacks on your clit and open palm smacks on your dripping hole. He chuckles at the way you start to lean into the pain despite how red and inflamed your cunt has become.

One spank, not even a particularly ruthless one, pushes you to your breaking point and you come, writhing helplessly in your bonds. It hurts so bad but fuck. There is a nasty part of you that loves being used like this. You’ve forgotten that you’re playing a game, too strung out on his touch.

You’re pulled out of your haze by Homelander holding his hand in front of your face. The leather is dripping and despite how far gone you are, your face still burns sharp and hot at the pure obscenity of it. Homelander’s cheeks are the tiniest bit flushed but you know better than to assume it’s out of exertion. He’s feeding off of you, soaking in your pleasure like a drug. It belongs to him and he thrives on that ownership. You wouldn’t be surprised if he’d already come in his pants just from spanking you.

“You’ve made a mess. Clean. It. Up.” He demands, pressing his wet palm to your mouth until you begin to lick your own come off his hand. You close your eyes as you taste yourself, whining pitifully. You’re so engrossed by your task that you don’t see the way his eyelids flutter as he fights to stay in control instead of ravishing you the way he wants. He can tell by the way that your eyes have glazed over that you’ve long lost sight of the role you’re supposed to be playing. It’s unprofessional but he supposes that he can indulge you. He’ll just have to make sure to give you a few acting lessons before Vought inevitably gives you a film of your own.

He taps your cheek roughly three times. You blink hazily as you are distracted from your task.

“How are you holding up Champ? We’re just getting started” His smirk is wicked but his eyes are serious. He waits for you to get your bearings and makes sure your eyes have regained a bit of focus before he raises his eyebrow in an unspoken question. You aren’t quite capable of coherent speech yet but you tap your foot three times in reply. He nods and just like that, the game is back on.

“I’m not…” You have to take a pause as your mouth catches up to your brain. He’s giving you a breather but his expression tells you he’s far from finished. “I’m not telling you anything.” You hiss.

He smiles, in the way that a chimpanzee bares its teeth as a sign of aggression. Isn’t that fitting?

“Whoah Kiddo! I gotta say, I can respect the can-do attitude. It’s that gumption that made me want you for the Seven. The fact that you turned into such a disappointment truly breaks my heart.” His voice drops to a low growl as he unbuckles his belt with a loud clink. “Well if you don’t feel like talking…I’ll just have to find another use for that mouth.”

He pushes his pants down just far enough to free his swollen cock. It’s dripping and flushed painfully red. He bounces slightly on his heels in anticipation of finally giving the poor thing some attention. He was hard from the start but seeing, hearing, smelling you come was almost too much for him. But despite your own growing hunger, you clamp your mouth shut and glare at him.

He clicks his tongue at you before reaching out to pinch your nose, patient enough to wait till you had no choice but to gasp desperately for air. He gives you a second of reprieve before shoving his cock into your open mouth. He’s very aware of how much you can take and he groans as he slides himself into your throat. He nestles your nose against the hair at the base of his cock, luxuriating in the feeling of your hot mouth wrapped around his cock. You’re well and truly trapped. You can’t even grasp onto him for leverage as he begins to throughly fuck your face. He’s not gentle. He doesn’t ease you into it. He’s going to give you exactly what you asked for when you approached him with this depraved little game. After all, he’s The Homelander, isn’t he supposed to serve the people?

A thin line of spit connects your mouth to his cock when he pulls out, and your face is on fire at how lewd you know that you look. He swipes it with his thumb before sucking the saliva off his glove with a satisfied grunt.

“Y’know, all this effort has caused me to work up an appetite.” He smirks before effortly breaking the bonds that held you confined to the chair. You bolt, dashing for the door in a mad effort to free yourself. But you only have half a second of hope before he wraps his arm around your waist and yanks you back against his unyielding body. You squirm but you can’t escape as he rips the rest of your suit into tatters. He cruelly pinches your nipple before shoving you to the floor and crawling over you.

His balls rest heavily on your forehead, still slick from the mess you made with his cock down your throat. He doesn’t have to force your mouth open, one slow lick to your raw clit has you groaning, his cock slipping back in as easy as anything. You have no choice but to take what he gives you, head firmly bracketed between his thighs.

Homelander is ruthless with his mouth, sucking your swollen aching folds until you’re practically screaming around his cock. It hurts but you can’t help but melt into the wet heat of his mouth as it both soothes and ignites. You come against his tongue before you can even comprehend doing it but he doesn’t skip a beat, driving you further and further into insanity as he feasts on you. He groans at the taste and you can feel him throb ominously against your tongue. You gag wetly around him and he shudders, nipping at your thighs as he fights to regain control. He’s close but he refuses to give you a reprieve until he makes you come again.

You wrap your arms around his waist, needing that support as he fucks you stupid. You come again, feeling him smile around your throbbing clit as he continues to suck rudely on the swollen bud. It addles something in your brain and when Homelander comes, it doesn’t even register that he’s so far down your throat you can’t even taste it. You come again and even while riding his own waves of pleasure, he can’t help but giggle at how thoroughly you belong to him.

He holds himself there, despite the orgasm beginning to fade into overstimulation. He only retreats when he hears three quiet raps against the floor. He sits up, softening cock leaving your lips as you cough wetly. You look thoroughly used and debauched. He watches you closely but you haven’t said the word yet. So he waits.

Your voice is raspy when you repeat your safeword, signaling the game has officially run its course.

Homelander takes quick action, scooping you up into his arms. He quickly grabs a blanket that you just now notice was folded up in the corner. He wraps you up tight, the soft fabric both comforts and conceals you from any eyes that might spy the two of you as Homelander carries you back to his penthouse. A warm feeling blooms in his chest as you snuggle into him, dispelling some of the building anxiety that maybe he went too far. He places a gentle kiss on your forehead as he opens his door with one hand. There is a nervous energy to him that you know won’t truly fade until you’ve assured him that you enjoyed every single thing he did to you.

He lays you on the bed, uncaring if you dirty the sheets. He quickly unlocks the metal around your wrists that suppress your powers and you sigh at the returning buzz. People think you can see the future but that’s not true. You are simply capable of processing vast amounts of surrounding data at once in order to make accurate predictions about what will happen next. In fact, you can feel the warmth of his hands several moments before he rubs the stiff muscles of your neck. You can hear his voice rumble seconds before the words leave his lips. It’s comforting but also what drove you to this point.

Once upon a time, Homelander was the one person you couldn’t predict. He was intimidating and exciting. Your life was mind numbingly boring until he came along. So maybe you became a little obsessed with him. You adored not being able to predict what would come next. But you fell hard and so did he, and with love came understanding, with understanding came knowing, and with knowing came the buzz. You don’t regret the loss of novelty but you couldn’t help but miss the thrill. So you asked for it back and he gave it in spades.

Now the buzz is a soothing comfort as he rubs away your aches. If you happen to foresee some cuddles and sweet talk in your future? Well, who are you to complain about that?

#homelander #x reader #homelander x reader #You ever have the writer version of post nut clarity?#supe!reader #definitely the longest thing I’ve ever written #and it’s pure FILTH

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dozing-marshmallow · 4 months

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CHRISTMAS WITH TOTAL DRAMA CHARACTERS(CHRIS, DUNCAN, HEATHER) SCENARIOS

Merry Christmas everyone! So sorry I couldn’t post something Christmas themed sooner, I hope everyone’s been having a wonderful day with family and friends whether you celebrate or not!🎄❤️

CHRIS

Despite the Christmas events he hosted for many networks, Chris didn’t feel he was really celebrating it until he went over to Newfoundland.

Before dinner, you joined him on this tradition that his homeland calls “Mummering” where it was basically Guess Who and Trick or Treat combined.

Needless to say, every neighbour you visited guessed who he was correctly.

He was reluctant to complete the family secret Santa. Originally, you sucked your teeth, thinking he was just being arrogant. However, from that event, you got an insight on the nature of a lot of his relatives- opportunistic.

“Could you lend me a few thousand dollars? What’s a guy like you to lose?", "Could you be the best nephew in the world and pay for the wedding of my best friend’s daughter?", "Could you help me pay off my mortgage?"

No wonder why your husband was barely enjoying himself at the dinner table! These people didn’t see him as a human; they saw him as a big shot wallet.

“Tell me, Chris... Is this how every Christmas goes for you?” you asked when it was just you and him, sitting next to him on the guest bed.

He was as sombre as ever. Sombre!,“Yeah. Told you the rest of the family weren’t important. I only bother to put up with them for my mom. I wish they all drop dead soon though.”

Not on Christmas Day... You couldn’t end the evening like this,“Okay... Is there anything you want to do together to cheer you up before we go to bed?”

“Hm...” the exhaustion shifts in his eyes as he smugly commands,“Tell me how good I look.”

You sigh in annoyance. That, you could do any day,“Really, Chris?”

“Fiiiiiine.” his moping tone of voice settled back,“I suppose raiding the leftover desserts wouldn’t hurt.”

“That...” is an oddly simple request coming from him,“Yet you’re implying you never did it?”

His attention is caught by the room’s door,“I didn’t have anyone I wanted to do it with.”

And unlike the fall of snow, his festive misery had vanished all at once.

“ᴬˡˡ ᴵ ʷᵃⁿᵗ ᶠᵒʳ ᶜʰʳⁱˢᵗᵐᵃˢ ⁱˢ ʸᵒᵘ!”

DUNCAN

Duncan’s dad was very pushy about Church this time around.

And he always found in his best interest to not go anyway.

This time though, you were there with him. So he decided, he’ll go this year.

He was also forced to join the local youth choir that would sing on the streets to raise money for those in need.

As long as he got to wear a mask...

“Not happening.” his dad sneered.

Okay, it wasn’t actually as bad as he thought it’d go.

Though he didn’t want to give his dad that satisfaction so he played sour about coming home. His main motivation was to steal some plates worth of food, give his mother her Christmas present and stuff the stockings of his cousins with bars of coal.

If anyone asks, you didn’t see anything.

His mom knitted him a Christmas sweater in return so obviously he wore it.

He visited his friends back in juvie with you.

It was quite heartwarming, seeing these teens who had done wrong in the past still have tenderness to friends and family, making you wish them a good future post leaving prison.

Besides, if they were Duncan’s friends, they had to have some morals.

Walking back, it was clear that he had room left for mischief and wanted to fill that space by stalling so you would be in front of him and turn around in confusion to not be met with Duncan, but his snowball.

“Hahaha! Nice makeup!”

You brush the snow off your face and feel your own devil inspire.

Let’s give him a taste of his own medicine.

You bent down and rolled up a snowball. Let the fight begin!

“ ᴼ ᶜᵒᵐᵉ, ᵃˡˡ ʸᵉ ᶠᵃⁱᵗʰᶠᵘˡ, ʲᵒʸᶠᵘˡ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʳⁱᵘᵐᵖʰᵃⁿᵗ!”

HEATHER

She scrunches her nose at the arrival of Christmas, that season that’s “nothing but noise and shallow junk.”

"I got you a present." you held it out for her.

“Buying my favour when it’s not my birthday, huh?” she looked inside the bag with no anticipation until she saw designer clothes neatly folded. She raised a smile and an eyebrow as she glanced back at you,“Okay, I guess it’s not that bad.”

Seeing her house made you wonder why she auditioned to come on the show.

To her displeasure, you were having fun cutting snowflakes, painting ornaments and decorating gingerbread men with her younger brothers and sisters.

Even more so when you helped her parents prepare the meal.

“We could never dream of Heather helping us out in the kitchen!” her mother claimed, wearing gloves over her manicured hands and a long apron over her expensive attire,“This is a nice change!”

“For sure! (Y/N) should come every year! Maybe our Heather Feather could learn a thing or two from you!” her father would then add on, with a hopeful smile.

With that, she dragged you out of the kitchen by the ear lobe.

“Let’s get out of here. I want something to drink.” she demanded, all ready in her outside winter gear.

Why come home if you’re not going to enjoy yourself?

You’re about to pay for the cozy drinks, but Heather interrupts you.

“I’ll do it.”

After an opening sip and staring at all this pure white showering from the sky, you smirk at Total Drama’s first villain,“So she does have a giving heart!”

Her answer was as cold, but her face was soft,“Don’t make me spill this on you.” the steam from her cup should be the only thing your eyes made contact with,“I just felt nice today. Don’t get used to it.”

“I won’t, I won’t.”

Something about that clarification made her tighten her grip on her cup for a small moment.

Seems like she wanted to give home a chance to fix her a reason for being...this. Generous.

A reason to like Christmas.

However, being with you, peacefully drinking with her, not disgusted or intimidated, was a reason on its own.

“ᵀʰⁱˢ ʸᵉᵃʳ, ᵗᵒ ˢᵃᵛᵉ ᵐᵉ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵗᵉᵃʳˢ, ᴵ’ˡˡ ᵍⁱᵛᵉ ⁱᵗ ᵗᵒ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵒⁿᵉ ˢᵖᵉᶜⁱᵃˡ,”

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blindmagdalena · 11 months

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Hello, I have a request for Homelander x fem reader. The two of them having a skin care routine night. I've seen TikToks of couple doing their skincare together. I feel like Homelander would enjoy the feeling of the readers hands gently massaging his face. (He does have smooth skin when I watch the show.)

Initially, Homelander’s curiosity about your nightly routine manifests as mocking. Each night, while the two of you are getting ready for bed, he likes to pick up the array of tools you keep in your vanity and invent uses for them.

“You cannot tell me this isn’t a cock,” he says, holding up your facial roller. He gestures to the end of it. “C’mon, it has balls.”

You laugh, snatching it out of his grasp. “Stop it! It’s for your undereyes,” you insist. He likes the broad way you smile at his juvenile teasing, how it emphasizes the lines in your face that you spend so much time and product on minimizing.

Homelander’s relationship with the passage of time has become a complicated one. He doesn’t mind seeing signs of you aging, seeing the way you’ve changed. It’s an indication of the time he has spent with you, and you’ve only grown more beautiful the longer you’ve loved him.

On the other hand, the thought of how much time you have remaining fills him with an awful dread. Similarly, the same lines he admires around your eyes, he prods at in his own reflection, dismayed. You’ve brought an uncomfortable awareness to his mind regarding both of your ages.

Regardless, watching you take the time to pamper yourself has become one of his favorite parts of the evening. He lingers in the doorway or leans against the counter while you both talk about your respective days. One day, you pop open a new product, and he leans in, taking a sniff.

“Smells good,” he comments offhandedly.

“Wanna try it?” You ask, holding the jar out to him. He stares skeptically at the goopy mixture inside. It isn’t as though his skin gets damaged, per se. He’s sensitive, but not to irritation. He supposes it couldn't hurt to give it a try.

So begins your new shared routine.

Days later, Homelander’s not entirely sure how exactly it escalated to this point–his blonde hair held back by a fuzzy pink headband–but he’s not going to complain while your knuckles are massaging soothing circles on his cheeks, pushing back towards his jaw and temples, slick with some kind of new serum. He doesn’t pay much attention to the products, if he’s being honest, but he likes listening to you talk about them nonetheless.

“Apparently vitamin C hydrates, helps with collagen production, and reduces hyperpigmentation,” you say, rolling your thumbs gently along his under eyes.

He hums noncommittally. “That sounds like words.” He opens his eyes just in time to see you playfully roll yours.

“You’re lucky you’re pretty,” you tell him, kissing his nose.

He wrinkles it in turn, huffing a laugh. “Oh, don’t I know it.”

Next, you swirl your finger in a lip balm that comes in a tin. It seems to him an exceedingly awful way to package a lip product, but he’ll accept it in exchange for the intimacy of your index finger placing the product onto his lips, your face close to his, your other hand tilting his head back while you focus on applying the balm. Your own lips are shiny, parted in concentration.

“Alright, all-” you begin to say, but Homelander cuts you short with a kiss. He waited for as long as he could, but the rapt way you focus on him in these moments is too much to bear without tasting you for himself. He needs to feel you.

“Have I told you how sexy you are when you’re pampering me?” He asks between kisses, hands settling on your hips, pulling your body flush to his.

“Mmmmhm,” you hum, smiling with such warmth, such love, he thinks he might burst from it. “I don’t mind hearing it again.”

“You’re sexy when you’re pampering me,” he purrs obligingly, kissing you long and slow. You push your fingers into his hair, knocking the headband loose, wringing a low moan from the back of his throat as your nails drag along his scalp.

“I love you,” your murmur, the words familiar yet no less wonderful against his lips.

“Love you,” he gives back, deciding he will spend the rest of the evening etching it into your skin with every touch, precisely the way you have taught him to.

#anon this was so cute you IMMEDIATELY sidetracked me from what i was doing #thank you i loved writing this!#homelander x reader #homelander x you #ask and you shall receive #darling anon #my writing #fluff

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pigeonpeach · 1 year

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Yandere Genshin men

Content warning: kidnapping, drugging, lots and LOTS OF MANIPULATION, lots of mentions of murder including of reader in some cases. Also this is a yandere post ofc shits disturbing please proceed with caution

Characters included: Scaramouche, Childe, Diluc, Kaeya, Ayato

Kaeya: Manipuulator

Lets be honest Kaeya wouldn’t be the typical kidnapper and basement yandere unless it was REALLY the ONLY option. But any freedom he gives you is pretty much a illusion. He’s a charming man, he’ll find a way to sweep someone like you off your feet and wrapped around his finger. He’ll always try to come off as the most capable and smart between you two. He won’t demand you stop seeing a male friend he doesn’t like. He’ll find some way to get said friend to slip up or fall out of your good graces. Framing, blackmail, whatever. Last on the list is murder. Which of course he’d get away with. He’d plant seeds into your head that as a captain its his duty to protect, he knows this game so you could at least listen to him. Celestia could not save you if you were a anxious or shy type. He’d play into your fears to the point you would willingly stay home all day with no need for chains or shackles. He has no need to immediately dive into extreme actions but he has nothing really stopping him from doing so completely. If someone poses a threat to his charade, they will be cut down. They won’t get the chance to utter a word.

Scaramouche: Scared

He actually does love you. If he can love at all that is. He however has never experienced a healthy permanent love. He’s certain you’ll leave one day. He doesn’t like hurting you. He likes controlling you. Because surely then he could keep you from leaving right? If you ever do want to leave you’ll have to fake your death if you really want to. And even so could bear hearing his cries. He’s not that much of a crier but he had foolishly hoped he could keep you at least that. He was a fool to think love could give him the heart he seeked. Never let him find you again after this. Because he will probably just kill you. After the fake out he come to the conclusion his love was s waste of energy he will be more eager to rid himself of his obsession than he will be to keep you alive. So if you stay instead you’ll have to drag him to some therapy.

Childe: Hunter

Oh boy. Arguably the worst so far. He’ll drag you to a cabin in His wintery hell homeland and let you experience the cold with nothing to aid you. Only to swoop in to save the day before you can die. So you’ll know to leave his home is death guaranteed. He’ll put you through hell til it feels like heaven. You’ll learn to crave his affection doting side. The caring husband. You’ll learn to cling to him. You won’t have a choice. If he has to he’ll drug you. Some kind of love potion perhaps? Whatever it takes. He however does want to love you. He does want nothing more than to just let you be a stay at home partner waiting on him to visit. Guarded by fatui soldiers with hearts as cold as a blizzard. To come home to you and a couple kiddos. He’ll be a loving father to them and you. He just has to… break you in a little before he can safely believe in you.

Diluc: Protector

Well at least you won’t be totally alone. Or totally trapped. You’ll be watched by the maids and locked in the mansion you’ll be allowed to go outside only when he’s there. With his hand tight around your waist, having already cleared any camps of monsters or treasure hoarders miles away. He’ll do everything to make you feel more comfortable here. He can’t afford to lose you. And really he does have a point when he says the world isn’t safe for you now. You’re the lover of Diluc, enemy of the Abyss Order and the Fatui. There is no way they wouldn’t take advantage of you. There is no way they wouldn’t snatch you away within a instant. He could never live with himself if he let that be the case. You’ll never be bored if you’re good. He’ll get you art supplies if you wish, any books that you would like. Even pets if you would like. Perhaps if he was really really in a good mood he may just maybe take you into town. Probably on a more proper date. He’d be easy to trick at least. You need only to kiss him on the cheek or perk up whenever he enters the room, to curl yourself into his body at night, hold his face gently and lovingly and he’ll become pure putty in your grasp. Its really just Adeline you gotta watch for she’s not blinded by the desperation for affection that Diluc is. You will have to put on quite the show to convince her too. And even if you did find a way to escape, you might find Diluc was right when he said the world isn’t safe for you anymore. What organization wouldn’t be able to capture a mere mortal to use as a bargaining chip for their most hated enemy. So maybe, you really should stay.

Kamisato Ayato: Spoiled

Ayato is a prized bachelor of high society. He could have anyone with a mere point of his finger. No family would resist him. No parent would deny him. So why do you? Why do you insist on playing hard to get when he’s already got you by your ball and chain? Truly you must be blind or damaged if you think being with him is so bad. He no doubt has you observed 24/7. Eventually one day a masked man tries to attack you and who should come to your aid but the very man who holds you hostage. He’ll hold you while you tremble muttering nonsense as he whispers sweet reassurances into your ears. Every moment without him seems to be terrifying all of the sudden. You’re left alone most of the time as you refuse to be obedient and suddenly you find you’ve become insanely paranoid to the point you start begging and pleading for ayato to come. Anyone will do you just can’t be alone. You become so needy for his affection never noticing your daily drink of water in the morning is a tad bit salty. He’d definitely drug you but more or less to get you to associate him with comfort and safety so that you’ll come to love him. But if he has to keep drugging your water then that’s fine too. Whatever he wants he gets and he will have you.

#yandere childe x reader #mild yandere themes #yandere genshin impact #yandere #yandere scaramouche #yandere kaeya #yandere diluc #yandere ayato #yandere tartaglia #genshin imagines #kunikushi x reader #wanderer x reader #diluc ragnivindr x you #childe #diluc x you #diluc x y/n #kaeya x reader

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