#and the basis of the romance was pretty good! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

themeraldee · 3 months ago

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The Lucky Winner

[Masterlist]

18+ Only | 8.5k | Homelander x fem!Reader | Pre-season 1. Voice kink. Oral sex. Unprotected sex.

Summary: You're a huge fan of Homelander but you always feel too awkward to ever meet your hero at a meet & greet or similar events. Your friends enter you into a Vought competition, where you've got a chance to win a phone call from Homelander himself.

Author’s Note: My first Homelander fic! Also, this is the first time I’m publishing my work. Obligatory English isn’t my first language so apologies if there are any strange turns of phrase but I happily take on criticism so feel free to correct me. I want to get better! I’m also not very good with sticking to the right tense. This is very self-indulgent so read with caution.

You can’t decide whether to hug or strangle your friends. They’re trying to be nice, you get that. But this goes against everything you’d ever do! Lovely as they are, they’ve entered you into a competition to meet your hero. To meet Homelander. The thought alone makes your head spin, your heart pound and stomach twist on itself.

‘It was just 20 bucks, what’s the worst that can happen? You win?’ Reads your friend’s message. You roll your eyes, hearing the teasing tone in your head. They know about your not-so-hidden obsession and at the end of the day they just wanted to brighten their friends day.

And sure, you are a fan. Okay, fine. You’re a big fan. Obsessed even. Every-wall-of-your-bedroom adorned-with-posters-and-promotional-materials obsessed. But you don’t want to appear like that. Last thing you’d want to come across as to your idol, you hero, is an annoying screeching fan begging for his attention.

You don’t want to be part of the crowds pawing at him, inching as close as they can just to graze his uniform with their fingertips. You don’t want to look like a feral fan. You have manners. You don’t want to be just another face, just another adoring fan begging for him to look your way. It’s hard to admit to yourself that you’ll never be more than a fan. So you don’t go to meet & greets. You don’t go to premieres. You don’t pay exorbitant fees just to meet your hero.

You’re a romantic at heart. You always imagine the first meeting to be one for the books. Maybe he saves you from a burning building flying you down, his stars and stripes billowing in the wind as he looks at you with concern etched into his handsome face, his piercing blue eyes scanning you for injuries as he talks to you with a soothing rumbling tone that sends shivers down your spine. You can clearly imagine him going, Are you okay miss?, as he descends to the ground. Or you just happen to bump into each other but he catches you with his strong arms and fast reflexes and just like that it’s love at first sight. Scenarios after scenarios. All varieties of ‘meet-cute’s play in your head on a daily basis. You spend your time getting lost in your head, dreaming of the day when it will be your turn to be the protagonist of the story. When will you be the damsel in distress? But you sigh and move on with life, because this isn’t a romance novel.

Or at least, that’s what you tell yourself (and others) when people ask you why you haven't tried to meet your hero.

Oh I just don’t want to be a weird obsessive fan. Plus it’s expensive!

Meeting heroes is technically easy. Vought gives people many opportunities to see their heroes for a pretty penny. They parade their heroes around like exotic animals in a zoo on a daily basis.

For you the reality is that you simply can’t handle seeing your hero up close and personal, let alone talk to him. How are you not meant to get flustered in front of what you considered to be perfection? How are you meant to find your words or even come up with words worthy of being uttered in his presence? You’re meant to look into his eyes, tell him how much of a fan you are and not fluster and burst into tears from the anxiety coiling in your gut as you wait your turn?

You don’t want that. You don’t want to be just another babbling fan. You want to stand out. You want him to remember you. You want him to think about you. But you’re also a realist and you know that at most he’ll think you just another annoying fangirl if he even grants you a passing thought. So you spare yourself those hurt feelings and you avoid meet & greets, you avoid all the fan-targeted conventions, events, promotional campaigns or competitions.

Or you always have. Until now it seems. You again scroll up in the group chat where your friends surprised you with an entry to the newest competition Vought advertised. It was presented as a fundraiser. All proceeds are planned to be donated to Samaritan’s Embrace. A simple $20 entry that would grant you a chance to be one of five lucky winners to get a personal phone call from Homelander.

A fat chance of that, you thought when you first saw the competition announced on both Vought’s and Homelander’s twitter accounts. With a competition that invites Homelander's country-wide fanbase, there really is no chance of you winning. You half-comfort yourself with that thought. You don’t know where you’d even start should you win. Part of you thinks that maybe ‘meeting’ him over the phone could be bearable as he wouldn’t be able to witness just how badly you’re holding it together.

But then you think back to all the videos you’ve watched. The reels and the tiktoks you’ve saved. The podcasts and interviews that at this point you play almost religiously. He's perfect in every way but you're particularly fond of his voice just rumbling in your ear when it gets nice and low as he talks in lengths about the upcoming movie or his most recent save. A while back you bought yourself a decent set of noise-cancelling headphones with great audio quality and suddenly it felt like he was right behind you just purring into your ears. Very few interviews record with good enough microphones to capture how mesmerising his voice is but those that do get saved and played on repeat sending shivers down your spine, following you to bed and invading your dreams. So no, maybe a phone call wouldn’t make the experience any easier on your poor heart.

You calm down after the initial panic reaffirming yourself with the reality where there’s no chance that you’ll get picked anyway. You text your friends again, kindly thanking them for thinking of you as you shook your head with an amused smile. That’s that done and forgotten about.

Or so you think. Few weeks down the line the mental discourse has long left your mind. The conversation moves on and your friends don’t mention anything since. That’s why it’s no surprise when you pick up the unknown call after the third ring with ease, casually answering with, “Hello, Y/N speaking.”

Homelander looks through the list of winners Ashley brought to his desk with a scowl on his face. He’s grumpy, having to jump through everyone’s hoops is grating on him, slowly chipping away at his showmanship armour. This is just another nail in the coffin. Now he has to make private phone calls?

He wants to be revered, loved. With people bending over backwards just to get his attention. Sure, that’s right up his alley. Get the crowds to scream his name, be grateful for his divine presence. What he isn’t a fan of is making others think they’re special. He’s the special one. Where does Vought get off thinking that he’s got the time to call and visit his fans one-on-one.

He rolls his eyes looking through the unimpressive line-up that Vought carefully curated. One of each demographic, trying to hit all the targets Vought wants him to improve his numbers with.

Each candidate has a sheet of talking points assigned to them, things to highlight, mention or even promote to each one of the fans. Normally Homelander would throw Vought’s carefully crafted response straight back to their faces but right now he’s not in the slightest interested in being clever or the fans' idea of ‘authentic’ so he’d rather rattle off a few lines from a curated list of party lines. At the end of the day he doesn’t care for this. Talking to five individual fans doesn’t help him in the grand scheme of things. This isn’t happening in public, there’s no one here to witness his generosity. Nobody to witness a god, looking down and gracing his followers with his benevolence.

Vought believes the individual approach will be worth it in the long run. That apparently fans will come running to any future events and competitions seeing as real people they might know have won in the past. All Homelander sees is at most five twitter mentions from a few nobodys.

He’s got about an hour in the calendar to get through all of these. Though he's banking on this taking a lot less time. There are many more important things he could be doing instead.

He flips through the files again, each profile is filled out with a name, number and a photo, deciding on the least painful order. A young boy, an elderly woman, a middle aged comic enthusiast, some punk teenager and you. Homelander looks at your profile with mild interest. You’re the only one who Vought didn’t manage to find a good quality recent photo of. Clearly you don’t do social media. Yet the quality doesn’t take away from the intrigue your profile inspired. You’re easily the most interesting in the list but that’s not that hard to do. Still, Homelander puts yours at the end of the list. Saving the best for last.

“Hellooo and congratulations! This is Homelander and you’re one of the few lucky cookies who get to have a little chit chat with me.” All air gets sucked out of your lungs and the ease with which you picked up the phone is gone. Your eyes widen, breath caught in your throat only coming out in confused little stutters. This isn’t real. It can’t be!

Whether it’s a particularly vivid dream or your world is actually turning upside down you’re glad this happened at home. Your knees buckle, your ass landing straight on your bed, your legs trembling with nervous energy as you sit down.

“W-what?” You manage to blurt out, more breathy than not. Your heart is pounding like never before. You wouldn’t be surprised if he can hear it over the phone, it feels loud to your ears.

“The competition? You entered, right?” His voice. His fucking voice was right in your ear and you felt like melting into a puddle of goo. Anything to spare you the embarrassing words that are surely about to come out of your mouth one way or another.

“Oh… um…” You are blowing it. There’s no other word for it. Totally embarrassing yourself. Not able to say a word, still trying to calm your heart down.

“Are you not a fan? Have I got the wrong number–?”

“N-no no! No…I mean yes. I mean sorry…fuck.” You are totally losing it. The hand holding your phone is shaking with nervous energy.

“Hey hey hey…. Come on now. Take it easy. Now take a deep breath aaand relax.” His voice is rich and sweet like honey, just like you’ve heard on TV but here it feels intimate. Just for you. He’s not talking to anybody else. As he hears your stuttered intake of breath and a mildly calmed exhale he coos again. “That’s it. Breathe with me. Now in.” If only he knew that this is making things so much worse for you. “And out.”

“I’m so sorry. I meant to say, I am a fan but I don’t do this.” Your voice still trembles with each word but you’re a little more composed.

“What? Call people?” You can hear the smirk in his voice, he's clearly pleased with his little joke.

“No.” You can’t help yourself but chuckle, your lips spreading in a wide grin. Your heart is still pounding but it’s more excitement than embarrassment. You’re actually talking to Homelander. And you have already embarrassed yourself beyond belief but he’s still here! He’s still talking to you. He doesn’t even sound upset. “I mean I don’t meet you guys. Heroes. I don’t really know how to do this. I mean I pretty much live on your doorstep and I’ve never met either one of you.” Now that he calmed you down, getting you talking, you can’t stop talking.

“Really? Some fan you are.” Were you of a sound mind you’d hear the joke but now all you could think is that you’ve upset him. And you can’t have him think that. Sure you’ve always wanted to stand out but not in a negative way! You take it to heart and you apologize.

“I’m so sorry. I don’t mean to offend. At all! Really! It’s just, you don’t need another person begging for an autograph that they can brag with to their friends or sell online for a quick buck.”

He exhales a little breathy laugh that has your whole body flush hot. “Oh, aren’t you adorable.” The panic that was inflating in you like a hot air balloon finally fizzled out. Instead it’s replaced by a throbbing heat in between your legs and you place your free hand over your heart, almost trying to will your body into behaving normally. “You know if you want I can send you some, would be a shame for such a sweet fan to not have anything personalised. I’ll sign it with your name.” He offers, a nice gesture, really, but you are currently having a whole body meltdown to even appreciate it for what it was.

“O-oh,that isn’t—You don’t have to—”

He continues nonetheless.

“Y/N, is it? Beautiful name.” Your name rolls off his tongue perfectly, all soothing and sweet. And there you go, melting into a puddle just for him.

“You don’t have to be nervous. I don’t bite. At least, not over the phone.” You let your hand trail down your body. He’s just talking. He’s just making jokes. He’s just trying to strike up a conversation to make such a freaked out fan of his a little calmer and there you are getting your rocks off on this.

“Sorry. It’s hard not to be. I’ve been a fan of yours for a long while. I didn’t expect I’d ever get to talk to you. It’s kind of you to do things like this for us fans. I’m sure you’re busy. Thank you for taking the time.” You distract yourself from the throbbing that’s just calling for your hand to settle heavily in between your shaking thighs.

“Oh no problem. Wouldn’t be where I am if it wasn’t for all my loyal fans, right?” You should really stop moving your hand down your body. But you can’t help the effect he has on you, you’re not acting normal!

“I don’t know. I don’t think it’s the fame that makes you special. It’s you.” You breathe you all dreamy before realising this isn’t just one of your fantasies. No. You really are talking to Homelander. You cough a little, pretending like you had something stuck in your throat.

“It is?”

“I think so. Change into civilian clothing and I’m sure you’ll still be turning heads.” You speak normally now but you bite your lip at the end, your hand now just above your pubic bone.

“Sounds like you’ve thought about this plenty.” Oh, of course you have. Your body is screaming at you to take the plunge, to slip your hand down your panties, and make yourself feel like this is more than just a friendly fan call. But your mind is, correctly, telling you that this is beyond inappropriate.

“Ah no! I just mean that you’re perfect at what you do. There’s nobody like you. Noone could take your spot. So it’s more than just fans.” You’re surprised you’re still carrying on. You feel like your brain is turning into mush with each word he’s saying.

“What can I say? I take my job very seriously.” He goes on to talk about being a leader of the Seven, you guess he’s just trying to fill space seeing as you’re such a blubbering mess. Even with all his efforts at making this normal, your brain turns all the innocent words into the filthiest dirty talk.

“Look, I’d love to talk to you some more but I’m afraid I’ll have to end it there. I’m late for a talk show interview.” You retract your hand as if it got burnt and instead you grab onto the comforter you’re sitting on, stopping yourself from doing anything impulsive.

“O-of course.” Your heart rate is elevated again, something about the thought of him leaving and you never getting the chance to speak to him again makes you want to scream.

“Tell you what, I don’t want to be unfair to you. You hardly got your prize. I’ll call you later. You free in the evening?”

“Y-yes.”

“Perfect.”

Perfect. You’re fucking perfect. Homelander can’t stop the way his lips stretch into a predatory grin. You are exactly what a fan should be like. Swooning over him. Grateful that he’s even bothering to grace you with his presence. You were practically kneeling, bent over before him on the floor, kissing his feet as he gave you a taste of his divine presence. He has half a mind to take care of the uncomfortable hard-on pressing into his rigid suit. He couldn’t help himself when you were being such a sweet little thing. He feels no remorse at having rubbed himself through his suit as you were there on the other side of the phone, undeniably shaking in excitement, all flustered and tense and most certainly aroused. But no, he wants to wait his turn. He needs the real thing. He’s not planning on letting you go that easy.

Originally he was pissed that most of his time on the phone was taken up by the elderly woman who was talking his ear off. Now he’s thinking about sending her a gift basket. He has a real excuse to see you.

When Homelander wants something he’s like a hunter, doing everything he can to lure his prey into his trap. In this case he abuses his powers to get the Crime Analytics team to dig up your address and in the meanwhile he sits through a mind-numbingly boring interview at a low-tier talk show he really shouldn’t need to waste his time on.

The only thing that keeps him going is the thought that you might be watching. You seem like a big fan. You surely wouldn’t dare miss out on his live appearances. The thought alone gives him enough drive to not laser through the talk show host everytime she asks a stupid question and instead he imagines he’s speaking straight to you.

When the show is over he takes off before his team can steer him towards another boring chore. No, he has more pressing matters to attend to. Like any good predator he observes. He waits until it’s the right time to strike. That’s why he’s perched at the top of the building that’s opposite yours. He’s got a clear line of sight to your apartment but he’s careful in making sure you can’t see him.

He watches, his grin reappearing every damn time he sees you reach your phone, checking if your ringer is on for the tenth time. You are an easy target, he can swoop in anytime and sweep you off your feet but he wants it to be perfect. With sick fascination he keeps watching you, your behaviours and patterns as you pace around your room trying to preoccupy your mind with mindless thoughts. He knows that nothing you do can now fill the void that he left behind. What else can replace the purr of his voice in your ear, soothing and exciting you at the same time. Nothing. There’s nobody like him. You said it yourself.

An hour of self-indulgent watching later he decides to end your misery. You just look so upset and disappointed and he knows you’ll just melt in his presence. He needs to be close to you. He got a little sprinkle of what you're like over the phone and now he’s got a craving for the real thing. He needs to feel you, smell you, hear your poor heart trying to keep up with the excitement right in his ear.

So with a quick drop he descends.

The day has gone by torturously slow for you. You spend every minute checking your phone in case your ringer randomly fails you and you won’t catch the second call from Homelander. Just thinking that makes your thighs quiver. The thought of having him purr into your ear any longer wets your panties all over again. But over the coming hours your enthusiasm deflates. It’s getting late and your chances of ever getting a call back are low.

You emerge from the bathroom, fresh and clean, in your pyjamas ready to sleep today’s rollercoaster of emotions away. Or you would be if it wasn’t for a knock at your balcony door interrupting your thoughts and making you flinch in surprise. The flash of red and blue still so vibrant and colourful against the midnight sky has your breath catching in your throat. What the fuck?!

You open the balcony door in shock, and if you had the strength to do so you would have ripped it off its hinges with pure eagerness. There he is in all his patriotic glory. Homelander. A wide grin on his face, posture ramrod straight as he clasps his gloved hands behind his back, puffing his chest out.

“H-Homelander?!” Your voice quivers at the proximity, your heart picks up speed again and you feel your entire body flush both in embarrassment and excitement. Your first thought goes to how you currently look rather than questioning his motives or how he even found where you live in the first place.

Trying to regain your composure you shake your head, blinking as if he was just a figment of your imagination. Maybe your devout obsession with him is finally damaging your mental state, making you hallucinate.

“Good evening, Y/N.” God, how does he do that! The way your name slips off his tongue so easily, with such familiarity makes you clench and part your lips with a gasp. Any sort of composure you’ve regained crumbling to dust. Now you are just awkwardly gawking, in awe at the unreal figure in front of you, in the flesh. Homelander doesn’t wait to be invited in, strutting into your modest apartment like it belongs to him, the confident strides of his red boots loud and heavy against the creaky floor of your apartment. He takes up the living space confidently, somehow making you feel like you don't belong in your own space. His presence took priority, anything else secondary—you included.

“How did you—” Your question of how he found where you live doesn’t even get fully asked, let alone answered. He cuts in, not actually caring about your justified worry over having your address handed out willy-nilly.

“Our call was a bit too short to my liking. You don’t mind a little late-night visit, do you?” You feel disarmed. His voice turns gravelly, lowering with each word. His tone teasing as if he was telling you a secret, so unlike his television persona where he’s all American apple pie values and open arms with clear intentions. Here, he grinned widely—all teeth with his sharp canines bared to you like the predator he is. Like you’re his next meal. “Ohohoo, would you look at this. Maybe you are my biggest fan, huh?”

You are distracted by his voice, his presence, just him that you fail to notice his eyes wandering around your apartment. Your face flushes red in embarrassment as you see him assessing your safe space, or what felt like your safe space before this ambush, all with an amused grin on his face.

“These are all limited edition. Must have cost you a small fortune.” Holding a breath you watch him take his gloves off one by one, placing the leather on your table with a soft thwack. It feels forbidden, not meant for your eyes. The public doesn’t get to see Homelander as anything other than perfect. His image manicured, perfected to the tiniest details. Seeing his surprisingly elegant bare hands, this up close feels intimate yet threatening like he’s unsheathed his sword, revealing one of the many hidden weapons he can use against you.

You watch as he brushes his fingers against limited edition action figurines, box sets, posters and trinkets featuring his likeness or the logo emblem Vought associates with him. If it was anyone else you’d tell them to keep their paws away from your most prized possessions but it's Homelander. Who else gets the right to touch special limited edition merchandise of his own likeness?

You watch as he paces the room with an unreadable expression. The embarrassment you feel transforms into an apology, heavy on your tongue as you force your mouth open, letting your shame out into the world. It’s hard not to feel overwhelmed in his presence.

“I-I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” He turns his head over his shoulder with a curious expression. A swoop of his blonde hair handsomely falling into his face. He puts down one of the figurines he picked up earlier as he scouted the area.

“All this stuff.” You wave your hand around, the grand display of what can only be described as the Church of Homelander, a shrine dedicated to his divine existence. You see how it looks, how it makes you look like a rabid fan. Though you’re anything but. “I know it’s a little strange. I don’t want to make you feel like a museum piece. Or-or-or a circus animal! I just admire you. A lot.”

“You do?”

“I do.” Your breath catches in your throat as he turns around fully, facing you head on, one slow step inching towards you at a time. You gulp, feeling like you’re left in the dark regarding his intentions as you hopelessly struggle to read him. On the opposite spectrum you’re there, an open book, your heart on your sleeve, your every thought written so clearly on your face you may as well give him your diary to flip through. “More than anything.” Breathlessly you add, meeting his eyes as a challenge. You’re devout, as loyal as it gets. You’d do anything for him if he asked.

Homelander rises to your mental challenge with a grin so sharp you feel the metaphorical bite coming before he even opens his mouth as he steps closer. He’s so close now. Any ordinary man could feel the thud of your heartbeat, but to his keen senses it’s a war drum and he’s marching to a battle he’s already won. His bare, elegant hands make their way to your jaw caressing it with a surprising gentleness. You flinch. Even though you watched it happen with wide eyes, you didn’t expect his hands to leave you unmarred. You almost expect your skin to sizzle, unworthy of his divine touch.

Homelander’s grin disappears, his tongue gliding along his teeth as if he’s cleaning them before he devours his next meal. All that leaves you is a little whimper before he pulls you in, his hands thrumming with incomprehensible strength as he kisses you. He kisses the air out of your lungs as if you could survive without it like he can. As if you could meet him in the middle. But dammit you do your best to. He’s a passionate kisser, incapable of sticking to soft kisses. No, he devours. He licks your lips open, his tongue gliding along yours. You brace your hands against his chest, already feeling weak in the knees. The heat of his breath and the wetness of his tongue in your mouth is nothing compared to how hot and wet you feel in your panties.

It doesn’t help that he’s vocal. You kiss him harder anytime he growls or moans into your lips, his voice vibrating against your lips just possessing you more. And soon it turns into a game of who can dish it out harder. Each devoted kiss makes him hum and purr which in turn melts you into a pile of goo, making you kiss him harder. Your lips feel hot, swollen from the ferocious kissing. You’re nearing the limit of what your lungs can manage without resurfacing for air.

Homelander pulls away but he doesn’t give you any time to recover. As if you could. How do you recover from that? Instead he’s adamant about making your heartbeat hit record heights. His hands glide down your body, featherlight touches that make your skin break out into goosebumps as he settles on your hips, trailing the waistband of your pants. His pink wet lips spread into another predatory smile and before you know it he leans closer to your ear, practically purring, “Tell me, if I take these off will I find you wearing Homelander panties too?”

Flustered squeak escapes you as he laughs wholeheartedly at your embarrassment. You know he knows. He’s teasing you for a reason. “They’re comfortable.” You eventually grumble, pouting like a child getting caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

“I bet they are.” He sinks down to one knee, his hands taking the waistband of your pants with him as he pulls them down over your thighs, letting the fabric pool by your ankles. He pats your ankle, prompting you to step out of them. You comply, kicking the fabric away earning a little word of praise from him. “Attagirl.” You’re visibly trembling as he kneels in front of you, his eyes locked on the sight of your blue panties with his emblem and name right across the middle in gold, all accentuated by a red trim. It would be far from sexy in any other circumstance but he purrs at the sight. All pleased like the cat that got the cream. “Got my name across your pussy all day long?”

Before you could react like any other person would, he hooked one of your legs over his shoulder. You yelp, losing your balance trying to grab onto his head or shoulders for support but he puts his arm on your back, sliding it right under your top keeping you straight and secure whether you want it or not. You’re not leaving until he says so. “Might as well fucking taste it seeing as it’s already mine, don’t you think?” He gives you a hungry look licking his lips before hoisting your other leg over his shoulder, standing up with ease. He walks you back against a wall as he eagerly inhales the scent of you, his head perfectly in between your warm thighs.

“Woah!” You stabilise yourself, finally having more surface to lean against. The fabric of your top glides along the surface of the glossy posters he has you pressed against. Making you the centerpiece, surrounding you with his likeness. You finally process what the fuck is happening as you feel his nose pressing into the soaked fabric of your panties. “Homelander! Y-you….ohh…” You whimper, your hands automatically finding comfort and safety in between his golden locks.

“Fuck you smell good.” Homelander growls, his hands now on your ass, holding you in place as he sticks his tongue out, pressing it wetly over your soaked panties. The taste of you already coating all his taste buds.

“O-oh fffuuck. OH god…yes…yes please.” You don’t stop yourself from moaning freely, the time for embarrassment long gone as Homelander lifts one hand from your ass, impatiently pulling the fabric of your Homelander panties to the side, his tongue already slipping in for a taste before his hand even makes it back to squeeze your ass. “Taste just as fucking good.” His voice strained, uttering filth in between your thighs.

His thick tongue pushes through the slit of your weeping pussy, lapping up what you’ve so graciously prepared just for him. And as you watch a mop of blonde hair greedily slurp at your wetness like he’s parched, you think back to the fantasies that drove you to orgasm after orgasm as the imaginary Homelander ate your pussy.

Well, for one the real thing is a lot more enthusiastic than you ever imagined him to be. He is sucking on your clit in rhythm that has you throb harder, making your toes curl. “Ohhh, Homelander!” You reward him with a loud moan of his name, like a prayer on your lips. And you repeat it with each masterful lick around your clit that has you squirming in his hold, legs quivering around his head, fingers tugging at his hair.

The second thing you never considered was how much his powers would come into play. Here he is with a deathly strong iron grip around your ass, easily holding you up on his shoulders against the wall while pushing you as close into his face as he can. The thought of not being able to escape his grip exhilarates you as much as it terrifies you. His lack of need for air makes him a perfect devout lover. Because this is pure devotion except it seems he forgot who was meant to worship who.

You’d be embarrassed by the obscene sounds you two are making if it didn’t feel so good. You moan for him prettily as he licks up all the wetness he’s coaxing out of you. You breath hitches as you feel your orgasm building. He's consistent, giving you just the right pressure. Homelander looks up at you, eyes glassy and blown back with lust before he swiftly repositions you, needing just one arm to make you feel weightless yet secure in his hold as he takes his free hand plunging two fingers into you revelling in the feeling of your cunt clenching around him.

“Oh there there there! Ahhh!” You guide him, his fingers pumping into you and with his tongue still working magic on your clit you whimper out, “oh fuck, I’m gonna, I’m gonna–.” You fall apart in his arms, cumming on Homelander’s tongue like you’ve imagined many times over. With you thrashing around you rip the poster right behind you unaware of the mess you’re leaving behind. He licks you through the waves crashing through you. He’s smug, you can feel the smirk against your pussy as he gives it one more kiss before easily slipping you off his shoulders, preening with satisfaction. “Mhmm you did so good.” His voice purred and even in your post-orgasm haze you flush with fresh heat at the praise.

He gives you time to compose yourself but you don’t want it. You want him. You need him. Your legs feel like jelly so you immediately sink to your knees, nuzzling your face into his crotch. Too eager to wait. Homelander cooed at your enthusiasm, “Look at that. Didn’t even have to tell you.” He chuckles, voice thick with lust, his lips and chin still glistening from the way he feasted on you.

Wobbly and out of your mind, you reach for his belt, unable to figure out how to unclasp it, your dexterity not quite there either to be able to wiggle the hem of his pants underneath it and pull them down.

You look up at him with the face of a kitten that’s not getting what it wants. Pouting and pleading for help.

“Christ, let me help you with that.” Homelander unclasps his belt, letting it hit the floor with a loud and heavy clang and the thought of it denting the cheap flooring doesn’t even graze your mind. He unzips his pants and the hiss alone makes your mouth water. He pushes his pants a little lower and you stare wide eyed at where his thematically red briefs are tented, his cock throbbing and leaking pre-cum into the thin fabric.

Okay, this you can do. Your hands slide up his thighs, getting a little feel of the bare skin of his thighs. Unmarred, smooth and hot. Your hand briefly squeezes around his cock through his briefs, forcing Homelander to hiss through his teeth. You pull down his briefs, bunching them down with the thick fabric of his suit.

You try not to stare and drool but you’ve imagined his cock in your dreams and fantasies so many times that seeing it in real life just kind of blows your fucking mind. It’s perfect. A bit longer than average but especially nice and thick. You lick your lips in anticipation. His hand rests on the back of your head, giving your hair a tug.

“You gonna keep staring or will you put those pretty lips to work?” His gruff tone tears you from the haze.

You blush, being caught staring. Wanting to please your hero you apologize, “sorry, it’s just so perfect. You’re perfect.” You breathe out in pure adoration.

“Come on then, be a good girl and open up for your hero. I want my cock wet before I slide it into that needy pussy.” He looks down at you with a sharp smile, his other hand rests on your jaw before moving up squeezing the hollow of your cheeks, forcing your mouth open. Not that he has to, you’re more than willing to deliver. You open wider, making his hand withdraw as you take matter into your own hands. Literally. You grip the base of his cock, feeling how hefty and hot it feels. It hits you in that moment that you’re holding Homelander’s cock. Fuck. You’re gonna be dreaming of this moment for years to come.

You look up, giving him one more doe-eyed look before you stick your tongue out easing the swollen red head in between your lips. The salty, musky taste of his pre-cum on your tongue makes you whimper, your eyebrows furrow with concentration as you focus on banking the memory of his taste in your head. Eagerly you get right into it. Down and dirty. You focus on him, coating him with an ungodly amount of saliva until anytime you pop off him you’re followed by strings of it connecting you two. His grunts and heavy breaths just urge you to do better. So you take him deeper, slurping around the saliva you've made for him, bobbing your head up and down.

You nearly lose your rhythm when he lets out such a needy wanton moan, making your pussy throb.

“Thaaat’s it, come on—fuck!—deeper, yeah yeaahh you got it sweetheart. God fuck that’s fucking it.” He’s nearly whimpering, so lost in the sensation. And you're eating it up. Each whimper and word goes straight to your pussy and at this point you wouldn't be surprised if you were making a puddle on the floor.

His hand forces your head down deeper and you gag, choking around him as for a second your nose bumps the neat thatch of hair above his cock. He's not easily dissuaded and he pushes again, a little softer this time. You almost feel the tremble of his hands, he's so close to unravelling. Just for you. The swell of pride pushes you forward and you take him deeper. He takes the chance to push both hands into your hair as he starts fucking your face.

“Take it. Take it.” He grunts, his voice more and more broken with every thrust. You're just about to push his thighs back, attempting to fight against his unyielding force but his hips stutter and he groans, letting out broken moans as he spills on your tongue.

As if on command you swallow and he pulls out, wiping the residual dribbles of cum on your lips. Now that he’s done you realise just how fucking badly your jaw aches. You whimper at the ache of your jaw and the ache between your legs.

You’re still kneeling on the floor, a picture of pure devotion, with your mouth messy and lips swollen. He grumbles at the picture in front of him. He pulls you up by your hair, kissing the taste of himself out of your lips. You can still taste your pussy on his lips and tongue as he shoves it into your mouth. “Bed?” He's somehow more than ready to continue and mentally you add his extraordinary refractory period to the list of his many talents.

You nod a broken, “y-yeah, this way,” the taste of him still heavy on your tongue as you lead him to your bedroom.

He lets out a little chuckle at the state of your bedroom, just as decorated with his brand as was the rest of your apartment. “Fuck me, you really are my biggest fan.”

You’re about to apologize, again, and he can read you like an open book already shushing you. “Shh, don’t say it. C’mere, take this off instead. Want to see you.” He tugs at your top, wanting you to take it off. Like unwrapping a present. You let out a few breathless ‘okay’s and pull the top over your head baring your entire body to him, save for the panties that were still uncomfortably pushed to the side. He clearly wants you to keep them on and you’re not sure whether that’s his narcissism or possessiveness talking. You don’t dare comment on the fact that he’s still fully dressed. You’re not gonna start demanding things from the Homelander now are you?

With a step closer he purrs, pushing you to the bed intensely watching as your tits bounce when your back hits the comforter. He follows as he lays over the top of you but he doesn't look at you. He picks up the grimacing Homelander plushie he sees on your pillow— the one that's predominantly advertised to kids. He holds it up for you to see with a raised eyebrow, the look almost condescending. “What? They make no other official plushies!” You defend yourself.

“Is there anything you don't have?”

You don't know what possessed you to answer, “yeah, you,” but Homelander eats it right up as he grins at you.

“Cheeky slut. Well you're about to. On your side.” He says sliding off you to rest on his side looking you up and down hungrily. You’re clearly surprised at his choice of position and he grumbles with annoyance as you take forever to move the way he wants you to. His impatience gets the best of him and he effortlessly manipulates you to your side, slotting right behind you. Homelander grips your inner thigh lifting your leg a little higher, as he nestles his cock right against your wet cunt.

You sigh with partial relief, feeling him solid against you feels good. Feeling him inside you would feel even better. “Jesus, you're still so fucking wet.”

“It's all your fault.” You whimper trying to wiggle in his unyielding hold. He just tuts at you gripping you tighter, cusping on pain.

He pulls you close, his cock sliding in between your slit, immediately getting the top of his cock wet. His lips trail up your jaw until he reaches your ear. He growls, low and sexy, nipping at the sensitive skin of your ear. Your heart skips a beat, your pussy throbs as the sound of him just ripples through you.

“Maybe it is. You know, I've been thinking. You're such a nervous little thing.” He grinds his hips into you, dragging his cock back and forth, teasing you. His voice got quiet, dropping a register lower. All slow and drawled out he continues rumbling in your ear clearly aware of what it's doing to you. “You were beside yourself when I called you. So there I am thinking nobody gets that nervous, not unless they’re trying to hide how fucking turned on they are.” He keeps fucking talking and talking, making you shiver to the point where you feel goosebumps rise all over you. Your breath ragged, your eyes fluttering shut.

You're starting to understand why he was particular about this position. After all, he could read you like a book from the get go.

“At first I thought it was just me because you're such a big fan.” He coos in a condescending tone. He licks the outer edge of your ear and you shriek, thrashing in his uncompromising hold. “But no no nooo. It's not that. Because everytime I spoke, your heartbeat sped up. You know, I was worried about you there for a minute. Then there was your pussy. You get so wet the air is thick with it. I can't even fucking breathe without tasting your sweet cunt.” You let out a broken sound, close to a sob, you pussy throbbing so hard he must feel it even without being inside you. You didn't even consider that his senses can easily sniff your secret out.

He’s still rubbing his cock in between your folds, sliding the whole length of it up and down. It’s slick and loud and so good and holy shit your clit is burning from the way his head catches on it with every thrust. You're so close and your body is on fire. You so desperately want to cum with something inside you but he’s cruel. He's not gonna give it to you just yet. “And look at that, you're still getting wetter. They do say it's always the unassuming ones.” He chuckles into your ear, low and vibrating against you.

“Is that it? Do you get off to the sound of my voice? Do you watch videos of me, listening to interviews while you finger your little pussy?” He's going harder, the wet sound of your pussy slicking his way in between your slit is deafening, embarrassingly loud. “Tell me.” The little command growls in your ear and you force your lips open.

“Y-yes! Yes….I-I find your voice sexy.” You admit to your little shameful secret. You admit that one of the reasons you never met him was because you didn't want to get sopping wet in a crowd full of screaming fans. “Don't stop, please.” You moan out, quiet and broken, your embarrassment making way to pure pleasure. Now that it's out in the open, what is there to hide?

“Do you even care what I say? Huh? I could be reading out the fucking phone book and your pussy would still get wet. Greedy little thing. What’s it gonna be? You gonna cum to my voice or are you gonna be difficult?” You're burning hot, your body so so tense, the leg he's hitched up a little trembling against his strong grip. His cock is still hitting your clit in the perfect fucking way and you're so so so close.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop! Oh fuck, Homelander—don’t—ahhh!” The dam bursts, a wave of pleasure sweeping over you as you scream. Homelander pulls back and with one deft stroke he slides his cock inside you. He doesn't move. He growls at the feeling of your cunt just pulsing against him. He's so thick inside you, stretching you wide, filling every crevice.

He whimpers and you feel how tense he is holding off the orgasm threatening to burst inside him.

Just as you think this must be the end of it, your mind just a buzzing noise, he pulls out moving back and he pushes you on your back.

You never expected him to be so active in bed but he's already in between your legs, his hands clamping down on the clammy flesh of the back of your thighs and he spreads you open. He's on his knees, his hands slide and curl from the back of your thighs to the top as he pulls you in, slowly sliding his cock into you in one push.

He doesn't wait for anything. He just fucks you. Hard and fast, really getting himself off more than you. Surrounded by posters and merch all carrying his likeness while he plunges into you again and again. Your hair is plastered to your forehead as you watch your hero utterly ruin you. You're sweaty, absolutely spent and tired while he's pushing into you without breaking a sweat.

This round isn't for you yet it's gonna be a memory you'll frequent the most. The look on his face, pure lust and torture as he's fucking you with as much strength as he allows himself.

With how he's got your hips propped up he's managing to hit all your best spots as your overstimulated nerves light up, giving him one last finish, your pussy’s quivers pushing him over the edge as well.

Then there's a little hot spurt of him inside you but you're surprised when he pulls out shooting most of his load with a few strokes of his fist all over your panties and stomach.

“Ahh fuck. Look at that, finally got your first autograph.” He snorts, amused, admiring the sight in front of him. His cum has already soaked into your panties, the ‘Homelander’ text changing into a darker colour as both his cum and your slick from the previous round drench the fabric.

You flush hot red and you shake your head, amused by his antics. “That's disgusting.” But strangely, you're charmed.

“I should take a picture. You look great like this.”

He notes as he slides off your bed pulling his briefs over his finally softening cock, tucking himself back into his suit.

“Stay?” You say softly, offering him the space for his benefit more than yours. Even though you'd like him to stay for a cuddle you know you'll be out of it in a minute.

“Can't do I'm afraid, duty calls.”

You nod, understanding. “Thank you, I really feel like a winner.” You snorted, thinking back to how the day even started.

He looks at you almost fondly, but your orgasm-hazy brain might just not be working anymore.

“Until next time.” He says as a goodbye and you end up tucking yourself into bed. The last thing you hear is the click of his belt he picked up from the living room, the creak of the leather gloves he slides back on and the sonic boom of him flying away.

And you know that when you wake up if it wasn't for your ruined panties, your throbbing cunt or even the ripped poster in the living room you wouldn't believe any of it was real.

You sure hope there will be a next time.

[Part 2]

Taglist (you can add yourself to be notified anytime I publish a new Homelander story)

#ahhhhhh it's done #I'm so pleased with myself for finishing this #homelander x reader #homelander x you #homelander #homelander fanfiction #my writing #the boys fanfiction

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orikiys · 11 months ago

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✿ ✿ 〞 domestic acts of love with skz

✰ pairings : ot8!skz x fem!reader

✰ genre: romance, fluff

✰ warnings: mentions of kissing, fluff, lemme know if there’s any!

✰ word count: 1.3k + words

౨₊ৎ chan — always makes sure your seatbelt is put on right

lately you’ve begun noticing the not-so-little gestures he does. the two of you would be randomly singing songs when you would feel him lean in and adjust your seat belt. this has happened not once, not thrice but on a daily basis. it’s his way of saying that you’re one of the most important persons in his life. it might also be the way he is constantly worried and can’t stop himself to check on you even when he’s the one that dropped you of. it’s sweet. it’s also heart fluttering. one might think that he’s going to stop at some point, but instead the list of these little gestures keeps increasing. just like his love for you.

౨₊ৎ minho — sitting on his lap

you would just be standing in front of him and he would swiftly grab you by the waist before making you sit on his lap. be it a bad day, a good day, a could be better day, this man won’t hesitate to not make you sit on his lap. he loves it when you sit on his lap especially when he’s watching tv or when he’s playing on his pc. he finds that with you by his side, days seem to be a lot more merrier. he loves to give you kisses on your shoulder as he watches the tv. he would absentmindedly trace his fingers on your lower back and mutter sweet things to you. he takes pride over the faint touch of red that spreads over your cheeks and your little giggles when he accidentally tickles you. he finds it all too adoring. you, your laugh and that stupid little grin on his face that spreads every time you’re on his lap.

౨₊ৎ changbin — puts your hand in his pocket when it’s cold

changbin loves the way your soft and tiny hands feel against him. he often grabs your hand randomly and brushes his thumb against yours, tracing shapes and leaning down to give soft kisses on your knuckles. he would stare at your hand intertwined with his and smile to himself every time he gets reminded of the fact that you chose him. when the temperature would suddenly drop he would immediately grab your freezing cold hands and put it the pocket of his puffed jacket. he knows that you catch cold pretty easily, which is why health is a priority. he would rub his hands around yours or blow into them in hopes he’s doing a good job al making you feel warmer. he would tuck you with blankets, ensuring that no cold enters and would even often to stay up for a while just to make sure you don’t catch a cold. changbin also loves the way you link your pinky finger with his while walking or when you would compare hand sizes with him. it’s cute, he thinks. it’s an amazing feeling, he thinks. it’s the sigh of love, he knows it very well thanks to you.

౨₊ৎ hyunjin — opening car doors for you

be it the way he started it after seeing a video online or the way he finds that the most precious part of your dates with him is when he would open the door for you. there’s a shy smile on his face everytime he does it. hyunjin would make sure that if you’re wearing a long dress, the fabric doesn’t get stuck when he closes the door. at times when you are tired after a long day, he would carry you in his arms, slowly and carefully lifting you out of the car and making his way to your home. it’s also the way that he would open not only the car doors, but also doors of restaurants, stores or anywhere in general. he truly believes in the phrase ‘ladies first’. there’s a teasing smile on your face each time he does it just like an inside joke. it’s funny how he would low-key be embarrassed when he’s around his friends and he opens the door for you out of habit. he knows very well that he’s going to be teased, but what matters is that the habit should not be abandoned.

౨₊ৎ han — lends you his clothes ( very ) often

jisung once found out that you love wearing his clothes as much as he loves seeing you in them. from that day onwards he would purposely leave a few hoodies at your place knowing very well that you would wear it more than once. but he would feel disheartened when you return his clothes, washed and clean. with no scent of yours. he would keep more clothes at your place and the cycle continues until you finally expose him. with an embarrassed smile, he would cover his face and mumble how he likes your lingering scent on his clothes. and so the pact started. he would lend you his clothes and in return you would give him your perfume so he could spray it on his pillow covers just to make it smell like you. so that it reminds him of you, every time he goes to sleep.

౨₊ৎ felix — bakes for you

felix is like your personal mood detector. he knows when you’re feeling like not doing anything, he knows when your mind is elsewhere, he knows the way you bite your lower lip when you feel sad, he knows it all. which is why he tries his best to make you smile, sincerely. he would ( not so ) secretly bake brownies early in the morning and even though you heard the ding of the oven, you would play pretend. other times you would just stare at him baking and admire his features along with his own little masterchef series where he pretend to be the chef and tell you the ingredients and walk you through the recipe. but most importantly, he would eagerly watch your expression as you bite into the brownie. and of course, it turns out great! he couldn’t have been happier upon seeing you dig in impatiently. it’s like all his hard work really did pay off.

౨₊ৎ seungmin — doesn’t leave or let you go out without a peck

it’s no longer a secret to you no matter how he tries to hide the way his nose would scrunch up in disappointment every time you forget to give him a kiss. making it a mental reminder you would instantly rush back to him, grabbing him by his collar and pressing your lips against his before hurrying out. you know the soft smile that’s on his face everytime he gazes into yours for a couple of seconds before pecking your lips. it’s like a good luck charm. and when something bad did happen throughout his day, he would blame that the kiss ended earlier. it’s silly how this one habit of his has stuck along from the first few months into your relationship to now. it’s like a special way of saying bye to him. even when the two of you needed to head somewhere or go on solo trips, kisses would still apply! it’s a priority and. the proper way into kim seungmin’ heart.

౨₊ৎ jeongin — gives you hand-written letters

it started with the way he confessed, like a high-school sweetheart you got letters in the mail, outside your apartment, in little bouquets, around the house and most frequently, handed personally to you. you wouldn’t even think of complaining as you would be lying if you said the letters didn’t make your heart flutter. it was a feeling and you could see the amount of dedication and love that he put into each one of them. you kept each one of them, carefully wrapped up in a box and re-read them whenever you felt like it. it was not often that you didn’t receive his letters, so you grew worried when you didn’t receive letters for a week just for him to come to your house and give it to you. ever since, the two of you were inseparable.

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dpimagines · 3 months ago

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Blind Date

SYNOPSIS: Wade is set up with a friend of Ellie's and Yukio's. It goes better than anyone expected it to.

Warnings / Notes: Mentions of past bullying, Deadpool being Deadpool (But His Sweet Side, so Mildly OOC) / I'm super open to writing a continuation of this! This is uncharacteristically fluffy of me, so I'm craving the smut or angst we could get out of this. Shoot me a request if you have any ideas!

Yukio squeals. Wade’s used to her giddy noises, squeaks and giggles and the like. Ellie still cringes like it’s the first time she’s ever heard it, but she still looks at Yukio like it’s the first time she’s ever seen someone so beautiful every time she looks at her, so it balances out.

“What is it?” Ellie asks, stirring vegetables around a sizzling pan. Wade somehow managed to invite himself to their fajita lunch, and smelling the food makes his stomach growl.

“Y/N!” Yukio exclaims.

“Where?” Ellie says, looking around.

“No, silly, we should set Wade up with Y/N!”

“Why? Are you mad at her?” Ellie remarks.

“She literally cannot help but romance Hancock on every Fallout 4 playthrough. Seriously.”

“That’s your basis? A crush on a fictional character?” Ellie asks, and Wade could spot her amused-bordering-on-pissed expression from miles away. You must be special to her in some way.

“Well, she… Y’know, she’s different.”

“You think she should settle for him just because of her mutation?”

“No! No, not at all! I meant her personality! She’s so sweet and patient and stuff!” Yukio quickly says.

“So why would we torture her by sticking her with him?”

“Y’know, you girls haven’t even asked me if I’d be interested. What if I think she’s a total butterface? What if I talk about my ex-fiancée the whole time? What if she’s too pretty for me? What if-?”

“You asking those questions means you’re interested,” Ellie cuts him off dismissively. “Fine, Yukio. You win. Go for it.”

“Texting her now! Yeah, she’s interested. Just let me know what you’re planning and I’ll tell her when and how to dress.”

“Oh, uh… Maybe a movie?”

“That’d be good,” Ellie says quickly. “That’s a really good idea.”

“She’s ugly, isn’t she?”

Ellie glares daggers.

“Never mind, not a movie. Dinner… At De Luca.”

“De Luca?!” Yukio exclaims.

“Uh, yeah? That’s a place people go for dates around here, isn’t it?”

“It better be your treat, that place is expensive!” Ellie demands.

“Well, duh. You guys seem to forget that unaliving people pays incredibly well. Anyways, what’s wrong with her?”

“Nothing,” Ellie insists.

“If he doesn’t know, he might hurt her feelings,” Yukio insists.

“He can ask her himself. Let her say it in her own words, share what she wants to share.”

“Oh, yeah. I’m gonna fuck this up,” Wade already knows. “But at least she’ll get a free meal out of it. How about tonight? The anticipation is already killing me.”

Yukio texts, before looking up and nodding.

“What time?” she asks.

“Can she meet me in the foyer at five?” he suggests. She types some more.

“It’s a date!” she cheers.

“And lunch is served,” Ellie declares gloomily.

“So, what’s the deal with you and her, then?”

“Ellie dealt with some bullying when she first got here,” Yukio explains. “It was mostly light-hearted teasing, but it was just too soon, and with some people, it kinda got out of hand. Y/N was a senior at the time and stood up for her. From then on, she’s admired her and is always looking for opportunities to repay the favor.”

“That is so fucking cute I could die,” Wade coos. “I’ll take good care of her, I promise.”

“Hearing that coming from you, I’m more concerned,” Ellie grumbles, pushing a plate towards him. “Just eat. And be respectful. Now, and then.”

“Aye, aye, captain!” Wade replies before digging in.

A few hours later, Wade invites Yukio to give him one last once over before he meets you at the door, and her shadow has trailed along diligently. Yukio gives him some helpful pointers while Ellie sulks in silence, still not a huge fan of this idea.

“Lose the mask,” Ellie finally contributes.

“Lose the- No! If I’m paying this much for food, she better be able to eat it!”

“You didn’t seem to mind the price earlier. Besides… She’s not like that. Yukio had a point earlier. Your face works in your favor, this time around. It’s everything else about you that you need to tone down a little,” Ellie argues.

“Fine. But when she throws up, I’m calling you down there to clean it up,” Wade retorts, taking off the mask. He feels naked without it despite his suit and loafers. This is the nicest he’s dressed since his mother’s funeral.

“There we go,” Yukio says with a beam. “Perfect. Now, go! It’s almost time.”

“Thank you, my fairy godmothers. Wait, it’s not offensive to call you guys fairies, is it? ‘Cause I didn’t-”

“Go,” Ellie insists. He scurries downstairs. You’re not there yet, but there’s a young woman lurking around down there. He hesitantly joins her, and she looks at him with surprise before smiling. Wow, she’s gorgeous, so pretty that he starts to question if she’s a figment of his imagination.

“Wade?” you ask. Your voice sounds like Negasonic’s, so much so that it’s weird, but he brushes it off as best as he can.

“Y/N?” No way, you’re stunning in a flowy knee-length dress and mary janes, your hair styled in an effortlessly pretty way. You might just be the most gorgeous woman he’s ever seen.

You nod, offering your hand to him. Your eyes say, “Shall we?” He hesitantly takes your hand. Your smile widens. He leads you outside. You trail alongside him to the car, letting your hands swing together, though not too much.

He lets go of your hand to open the door for you. You get seated, and he closes it, quickly making his way to the driver’s seat.

“Sorry it’s kind of a beater, I can’t be driving anything too showy for obvious reasons.”

You shrug, but he can tell it doesn’t bother you.

“Not much of a talker, huh? I guess that’s why our friends thought we’d work. I talk, you listen, very cutesy…But I need someone to feed off of to be funny, so you better be up to the challenge.”

You giggle, covering your mouth.

The drive to the restaurant is in awkward silence. He really doesn’t know what to say. He could ask you about yourself, but that might make you uncomfortable considering how little you’re willing to speak. He could start talking about himself, but that has the potential to put you off for more than one reason – either you’ll be disturbed by his life story, or he’ll come across as self-absorbed.

The two of you enter and despite a wary look from the hostess, you’re seated relatively quickly.

You’re brought ice water and bread.

“Damn, this place is fancy…” Wade remarks as you sip your water. You smile sheepishly. “Hm… You seem normal. I was told there was something different about you. In fact, when Yukio had the idea to set us up, Ellie accused her of thinking you should have to settle for someone like me because of your mutation. I was expecting, I don’t know, snakes for hair, Silly Putty for fingers, something. I’m gonna start guessing if you don’t come out with it.”

Your sweet smile changes into a devilish smirk as you challenge him with your eyes. He realizes it’s more entertaining for the both of you if he does attempt to guess, so he gives it a shot.

“Acid spit?” he asks. You shake your head. “Hiding a third boob in there?” he wonders, lifting his head and looking down for it despite your somewhat modest neckline. Your face scrunches up with amusement as you shake your head again. “Damn it. Can’t blame a guy for hoping. What about another face on the back of your head, Voldemort-style? That would be kinda cool.”

You shake your head once more, though you’re clearly amused by his attempts to figure it out.

“Wait,” he says, lowering his voice to a whisper: “Does your vagina kill people? Like that one girl on American Horror Story?”

“No,” you finally say, laughing. “It’s my voice.”

“Whoa,” he murmurs.

“Yeah, I can only speak words I’ve heard before exactly as I heard them last.”

“That’s why you sounded like Ellie earlier, when you said my name. She was the last person you heard say it.”

“Exactly,” you reply.

“Well, that’s not so bad.”

“Most of the time,” you agree. “But I can’t always control my TONE!”

You slap a hand over your mouth as your fellow guests give you brief glances of concern and confusion.

“Tone,” he says in a normal volume.

“Tone,” you echo with a look of astonishment. “They call me Spirit Box.”

“Like the things ghost hunters use, right? That’s so cool. You must be great for espionage. Just bring you along as a secretary or assistant or whatever, then slap some headphones on you and turn up some instrumental music all the way ‘til you can get to a recording device and repeat what you heard.”

“I suppose so, but honestly most of the time I just hang out. I have some martial arts training, but when someone can choose between that and a human bomb, WELL, it’s not really a choice,” you explain.

“Well,” he says for you. “I think it’s super cool. Normally, I get bored listening to other people talk. I doubt that’ll ever happen with you.”

“I might as well warn you- Damn it,” you swear. It’s in his voice.

“What is it?”

“If I say this word I’m going to end up yelling it.”

“Uh, wanna type it out on your phone? I can read it.”

You blush, shaking your head.

“Sounds are the same way. Even when I laugh it’s not MINE.”

“Mine,” he repeats, as you seem to appreciate it. “I don’t understand why I’d need a warning for- Oh. Gotcha.”

“I may be an alright… Talker to you, but I doubt you’d want to hear a man’s voice during sex!” Your eyes water as they avoid his in shame. Someone said that to you, and harshly.

“I hope you don’t mind if I don’t repeat that,” he murmurs, reaching for your hand. You give it to him, your hands resting together on the table. “Besides, I’m pansexual, so, honestly… It’d be kinda hot. Best of both worlds.”

“No kidding,” you reply. It’s all Ellie. “That’s great!” you chirp in Yukio’s voice.

“You’re pretty good friends with those two, huh?”

You nod.

“Keeping a small circle helps with consistency,” you add. “But I’m a TV addict, so…”

“Me, too. That totally makes sense. Oh, we should look at the menus. I’ll order for you, if you want.”

“Please,” you moan, swiftly retracting your hand to cover your mouth once more as your cheeks flush. He laughs.

“I’m not repeating that, either. Hot,” he teases you.

“You’re mean,” you reply with a laugh, his laugh.

“Please,” he says. “Forgive me.”

You smile in response before looking over the menu.

“You haven’t said anything about my face,” he realizes.

“Oh, sorry. You’re very handsome.” You don’t even look up, still looking for something appetizing. “No prices. Yikes. What are you getting?”

“Uh… Seriously. You don’t wanna ask?”

“I think you should tell me when you’re ready. I meant it, though. I think you’re very handsome.”

“Thanks,” he mumbles, feeling heat rise in his cheeks. “I think I’m gonna go with the seafood alfredo.”

The rest of the date goes swimmingly, the two of you conversing on various topics: TV shows and music you both like (and exchanging recommendations,) he shares his story (you fawned over him, maybe a little too much,) your careers (you transcribe classes at Xavier’s for students who are Deaf and/or have learning disabilities, he’s a…freelancer. You giggled at that. He doesn’t care whose sweet little giggle that is, it’s yours now,) and more.

All good things must come to an end, though. Once dinner’s over, the two of you head back to the school. He walks you all the way to your room.

“This was really nice,” you tell him. “Thank you.”

“It was,” he agrees. “Can I see you again? Maybe you could come up with a list of words for me to say for you, and I can say them for you over lunch.”

“That’s so sweet, Wade. I’d really like that, but I feel bad. Is there anything like that-” you cover your mouth again at the unmistakably pornographic tone, but he removes your hand gently with an amused smile.

“Keep going,” he encourages you. “Like that.”

“Is there anything like that I could do for you?”

“Well, you wanted to go on a date with me after seeing my face, so, you kinda already did.”

You open your mouth, but close it quickly.

“What is it that you’re needing to say?” he asks quietly, like he’s trying not to embarrass you in front of someone else despite the two of you being alone in the quiet hallway, the only sound besides you both being the ticking on an old grandfather clock. You raise your hand, touching his lips. “You want to kiss me?”

“Yes, I want to kiss you.”

Wade grins before taking your cheeks in his hands and uniting your lips with his for the first time. Neither of you wants to pull away, but air is an unfortunate necessity.

You take your phone out of your purse, tapping around before presenting it to him on the Add New Contact screen. He eagerly types in his name and contact details, adding in the notes: “Just FYI after the whole Weapon X debacle I am hung like a horse and have an incredible refractory period. I only mention the refractory period because I’m pretty sure I’d explode if you even looked at it. Seriously, you are MAJORLY hot”

He passes the phone back to you, and you look. You turn red before nodding in understanding.

“Goodnight, Wade.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

#deadpool x reader #wade wilson x reader #deadpool fanfiction #deadpool imagine #wade wilson imagine #x men x reader #x men imagine #marvel x reader #marvel imagine

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nimthirielrinon · 11 months ago

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I need to talk about Gale’s insecurities. For all his noted overconfidence, this is a man whose entire self-worth is based on his prowess with magic.

He was a “gifted” kid whose abilities started out well advanced for his age, just to begin with. He very much thinks of himself as annoying, which you learn in the Durge playthrough after the dead bard incident, when he says that if being annoying we’re reason enough to kill someone, he’d “be dead 1000 times over!”.

If you romance him and convince him not to take the Crown after the second romance scene in Act 3, he mentions how he’s used to being seen as over-confident and even self-deluded regarding his abilities, which I think would only make him posture even harder as a defence mechanism.

I think for a long time, his relationship with Mystra was likely something he used as a flex on other wizards who had been cruel or mean to him, based on how he brings it up, when he does.

But what gets me is his utter relief whenever he isn’t rejected by Tav. When he first opens up to you, he has pretty much already prepared himself to be kicked out of the party. He’s even got a plan for when his bomb goes off, to do the least amount of harm he can, and when he says “Even I’ve grown tired of the sound of my own voice” I swear his voice cracks and he sounds like he could cry.

If you romance him, when he tells you he’s in love with you, if you say “I love you too” instead of going straight for a kiss, he’s once again relieved. Despite the fact that you’re there with him and have been romancing him, he still has a doubts that you would return his feelings.

It’s no wonder he made the mistakes he did. This is a man who’s been told his entire life that he’s annoying. Though he’s had other mortal lovers (and we don’t know how those relationship were, only that they clearly ended), he is clearly primed for rejection. And then his ex-girlfriend, the goddess of magic herself, tells him she’ll only forgive his transgression if he kills himself.

Like I said at the top, his precocious talent for the weave is the entire basis of his self-worth, unless and until Tav assured him that he has value beyond his mastery of the Weave. It’s no wonder he felt like he had to “prove” to Mystra that he loved her enough. As long as his self-esteem was based on his magical abilities, he was never going to feel like he was good enough, especially for the goddess who is all magic. He was never going to be able to feel as though he was loving her well enough.

I guess what I’m saying is that his “ambition” and his hubris make so much sense when you consider the hinted-at reasons for his insecurities, his clear desire for friendship and affection (he summoned a Tressym who became a lifelong companion and a lava mephit or something with whom he is still in touch; he even says he didn’t have friends growing up), and his main talent/special interest.

I think he’s a superbly-written character, and I definitely feel like he deserves neither death nor godhood, but a good and comfortable life surrounded by a loving family who encourage him to be his best self.

#bg3 spoilers #long post #gale dekarios #bg3 #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios of waterdeep #bg3 gale #blorbo from my games #been rotating him around in my head #like a rotisserie chicken #character analysis #the wizard of waterdeep

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y13evie · 1 year ago

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Hi so I saw that you are open to write for house md and I'd like to ask for a chase fic. Like reader is house's kid and either works at the hospital too or gets admitted there but also knows chase and is in a relationship with him. Plot can be fluffy, smutty and/ or angsty I don't really care but I'd like to know how house would react if he sees them interact etc.

Idk if you see this or like the idea but I wish you the best and I really like your fics

hiiiiii anon!! i love this idea sm and i LOVE ROBERT CHASE WITH MY WHOLE HEARTT. dad house is so sweet and cutesy. i tried my best for u

tags: robert chase x houses kid! reader, one use of y/n, house is stubborn but loves u, just fluff

this is embarrassing. never in your twenty-five years of life would you imagine yourself in the hospital that both your father and boyfriend work at. yet here you are, with a 4 cm laceration on your right hand. the triage nurse had just sent you off and notified you that a doctor will be with you shortly. from your room window you could see dr foreman patting a familiar face on the back, probably saying something along the lines of “this case is yours bud”.

as soon as chase read the report he hurriedly rushed into your room. you shot him a sheepish grin and lifted up your hand to reveal the gash.

“my god, y/n”, he sat down next to you and took your hand gently into his gloved one and inspected the wound. he looked up at you, as if asking for an explanation.

“maybe i shouldn’t garden alone. i picked up this clay pot. the way it was sitting had been bothering me for a couple days now. i’m guess i’m not as strong as i thought i was because i dropped it and as it shattered, it cut me up pretty good.”

chase sighed at your stubbornness, something that had drawn him into you since early in your relationship. he took one of his gloves off and gently stroked your hair. he rambled on about how you should really be more careful and call him if you needed anything too laboring done. you weren’t listening. you were staring into those blue eyes. you weren’t into all that cheesy romance stuff but god, those eyes are stunning. your moment was quickly put to an end when harsh tapping could be heard from outside your window. you knew that sound from anywhere.

“you decided to be the one to doctor on MY kid”

house, or dad as you call him, hastily shuffles into your room and gives you both a judgemental look. robert rolls his eyes,

“foreman gave me the case first, i'm just doin’ my job”.

house hobbles over to check your vitals even though it’s a minor issue compared to what they deal with on a daily basis. you know your dad loves you and cares but he’s not the best at verbally expressing it. you knew he would probably just sit there and observe, so you turn back around to your extremely, worried boyfriend.

“soooo” you drag out the ‘oh’ sound, to show him you’re not worried. “whatcha doin after work handsome?”. chase runs a hand through his blonde hair and lets out a long, exasperated sigh.

“i was planning to go on a cute and sweet date with you, but instead i’m gonna be dr. chase for another 12 hours”.

he sounded tired but you knew he was more than happy to care for his darling. just as you two were planning out your evening, your father and robert’s pagers began harmonizing. chase gives a quick but passionate kids to your temple. house makes his gag be known, sticking a finger in his mouth for dramatic effect.

your dad lingers in the room for a moment, giving your shoulder a squeeze. it’s still gonna take time for him to adjust to the fact his child is dating his co-worker. but you’re not his little baby anymore and he knows it.

when he heads out his parting words are,

“i’ll have someone stitch you up kid, stay put”.

you lean back in the bed and continue to add pressure to your wounded hand. a few minutes pass and your sweet boyfriend stops by again. and takes a seat at the stool beside your bed. he has the tools to stitch up your hand. to distract you from the pain, chase sparks a conversation.

“your old man..” he chews the inside of his cheek. you know exactly what he’s gonna ask. “does he like me? and not as a co-worker. does he think i’m a good fit for his kid?”. your heart sank at the thought of robert thinking he’s not enough. truth is, your dad did like him. though he would never admit it, the fact robert makes you happy, makes your dad happy. he’s real bad at showing it, but you know it’s true.

“he’s a grump, chase. he likes you. he might never admit it. but the fact he hasn’t beaten you to death with that cane of his really says something.”. you can tell your reassurance helped. you loved robert, and he loved you too. before you knew it the stitches were finished. he pulled out a sling from a cabinet so you won’t irritate the stitches too much.

“hey, i’ll get your discharge papers. we’ll have you out of here soon”.

chase pressed a kiss to your lips this time, and he stayed there for a minute. hand on your jaw to keep you steady. you moved your lips in unison, running your free hand through his hair. a sharp pain stabbed your hand and caused you to pulled away and gasp. he reminded you to take some pain medication once home.

before he headed out the door, robert whips around and sternly demands,

“i don’t ever wanna see you in here again.”

#house md x reader #house md #robert chase x reader #robert chase #robert chase x you #house m.d.#house m.d. x reader #reqs open #i love robert chase #he’s so baby girl i love him #this idea is so cute anon

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celestie0 · 10 months ago

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gojo satoru x reader | college au [18+]

kickoff ch. 4 a day in the life of a hot soccer player

ᰔ pairing. college au - soccer player! gojo x film major! reader

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is the most popular guy on your college campus. he's tall, funny, hot, not to mention he's the most talented soccer forward the school has seen in years. but he's also a frat dude, which puts him in a world very different from your own, as he spends most of his nights partying & drinking while you spend most of yours working on your annoying film major assignments. but when he reaches out to you for a favor, you realize that helping him out might have something in it for you too.

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fem reader, fluff, angst, smut, college au, fraternities, sororities, partying, drinking/alcohol, mentions of weed, romance, jealousy, pining, slow burn, opposites to lovers, friends to lovers, she falls first he falls harder, gojo being an idiot

ᰔ chapter. 4/x (probably 12)

ᰔ words. 3.4k

a/n. yay for gojo pov chapter! i originally tried writing this from reader's pov but it wasn't really working for some reason so i switched it up.

nav. masterlist

☾·̩͙꙳ moodboard no.1

♬.*ﾟplaylist

Gojo Satoru was never really the type of guy to be serious to just one woman. He had a sort of rotation of women that he'd go through every couple of weeks. Now wait, before you think he's an asshole, he once tried to have a serious girlfriend in college. But he quickly realized that it's really difficult to coordinate down time. When he's taking an exam, she's calling to ask if he's free. When he's off practice, she's got work. Once a week ended up being all he could really see her. And for a guy with a sex drive as high as his, that just wasn't enough. But having multiple women meant more chances of at least one of their schedules lining up with when he’s free, and bam, he was getting laid on a consistent basis. Okay, now you can think he's an asshole.

He knew he was a bit of a slut, a manwhore, a player, whatever the girls in his Instagram comments liked to tease him about. But it felt good to be those things because for some weird reason it gave him confidence. It was just a stupid, primal, egotistic, caveman feeling that's probably carved into the DNA of every man out there. He can't help it.

Turns out he just really likes it when people rely on him. He likes it when his teammates entrust him with the winning goal during the final moments of a match, he likes it when women put their pleasure at his mercy during sex, and something within his stupid, primal, egotistic, caveman mind really liked it when you had that intent spark in your eye asking him to help you achieve something for your dreams.

Gojo lay in his bed, ankles crossed and rested up on a pile of folded laundry at the end of the bed. One of his hands was tucked behind his head that was resting on a couple of pillows, and his other hand was scrolling through his phone.

This weekend’s party was a bit more exclusive with each member of the frat only getting two invites for the list. There were restricted parties like this in the past, and Gojo very rarely used his plus-ones/twos. Most of his friends were already from the frat, and most of the hot sorority girls would be invited by other dudes anyways. But this time, he was considering inviting you.

His mind wanders to that first night he met you at that party. You looked slightly different in person compared to your photos, a bit edgier than the soft persona captured by the candids on your social media that your friends took of you. Gojo scoffs at himself when he remembers how worked up he got over the belief that this random girl he Instagram DM’d was insinuating she would be down to fuck that night, some arrangement where he shows her a damn good time as a reward for bringing her roommate to his friend. It was a pretty sexy scenario in his head. Despite the hindsight he has now, for Gojo that kind of thing wasn’t an insane thing to assume. Excuse him for sounding a bit arrogant, but women tended to blatantly throw themselves at him pretty much everywhere he went. And besides, you were cute, so maybe a part of it was just his wishful thinking, too.

You were like a deer in headlights at that party. He watched as you looked around the room at one point in the night, searching for something before you disappeared into a hallway. When he finally had you alone to himself in the kitchen, and he realized all you wanted to drink all night was water, the prospect of a casual hookup seemed to be slipping further and further away from his grasp.

But his chest filled with a different, unfamiliar feeling when you mentioned what you really wanted from him, and he’s been chasing that feeling ever since.

Right now, he just wanted to see you again. He hated how you seemed to just abruptly leave any time the two of you were together, which has only been twice so far, but still. He wanted to see you in something that wasn’t just a plain t-shirt and jeans (although that was definitely his favorite clothing on a woman most of the time). He wanted to know what you were like when you were a little bit tipsy, maybe even a little bit drunk. Were you talkative? Emotional? Touchy? Flirty?

Gojo’s thumb hovers over the Instagram chat that had your name on it. He should really just ask you for your number at this point.

When Gojo clicked on the chat and used it to go to your profile, he noticed you posted some more photos. Just a slideshow of your life recently. Some pictures of flowers you spotted on what looked like a bike ride judging from the shadow, a cake you baked recently for a friend’s birthday, a snapshot of a cat running away in an alleyway. The last picture was a black and white photo looking through a soccer goal net towards a tree in the distance, and Gojo quickly recognized it as the one on UTokyo’s practice field.

His thumb double taps the post and then he’s back to the page with your messages. He had reached out to you again after Monday's practice saying that the team was doing another practice match on Thursday, which was yesterday, but you mentioned you were busy working on something for a club you’re in.

An iMessage notification pops up at the top of his phone from one of his frat brothers.

|| 3:12pm ryota the GOATa: gotta finish sending out qr codes. you got the names/insta handles for your invites tonight? or you just not gonna invite anyone like usual?

He sighs, wondering what to do, when he ultimately decides against inviting you. You were probably busy with something anyways, and he didn't want to experience the disappointment of you saying you can't come if he does ask, fearing that there might be a reason that didn’t have anything to do with an accumulating pile of class assignments. It’s a bit of a cop out, he knows that, but whatever. You very clearly told him that the two of you weren’t friends.

He types out a message that reads yea my homie @ThePope, pls. Also, your mom to which Ryota replies fuck off.

Even though there was no practice today, Gojo felt like he just needed to get out of the house for a bit. There were too many thoughts in his head, most of them about you, and he didn’t like it. He wants to be smooth-brained Gojo that just thinks about soccer and partying. He slides his legs over to the edge of his bed and sits up, inhaling and exhaling harshly, before standing up in resolution and heading to his closet. He pulls his soft cotton t-shirt over his head in favor of an athletic long sleeve and pulls on a pair of sweatpants over his SpongeBob boxer briefs (don’t make fun of him, please).

When Gojo opens his door, he’s hit with the smell of food cooking and with the noise of two of his roommates, probably Sota and Hide, yelling profanities with video game sound effects in the background. He walks downstairs, pushing his left arm through the sleeve of his shirt.

“Hey, where are you going? We don’t have practice today,” Geto asks from the kitchen as he flips his quesadilla on the pan, spilling a bunch of its contents everywhere. “Shit.”

“I know we don’t,” Gojo says, tilting his neck from side to side to loosen it up. “Just going for a run.” He extends his right arm across his chest, holding it in a stretch, and grunts a little.

“Ah, yes, our star player,” Geto muses as he wipes the counter down.

Gojo twists his torso to stretch out his back and releases a slow exhale from how good it felt. “Gotta keep that stamina up,” he says, “for more reasons than one.”

Geto lets out an annoyed sigh from where he’s washing his hands at the sink. They both watch Hide almost chuck his controller at the TV before Sota stops him. By the entryway, Gojo slips on his running shoes and puts his airpods in his ears, then he’s out the door.

The weather is nice. It’s pretty sunny, a bit hotter than Gojo was expecting, but he wanted to work up a sweat anyways. He taps at his smartwatch and realizes his running app isn’t working, so he shrugs and just decides to guess what running six miles feels like.

As he’s running, his mind wanders to you again. The last time he saw you out on the field, you had a strange expression on your face. It seemed like you were in a rush to leave, which is fine, but it was like you refused to make eye contact with him. Was it something he said? Or something he did? It probably was, he had a habit of fucking things up with people sometimes, but he doesn’t really know what he could’ve done for you to avoid him. Your messages back to him have been pretty curt and weirdly polite, too.

Somewhere lost in his thoughts, six miles turns into twelve and he’s drenched in sweat by the time he makes it back to the house at around 6PM. Taking two steps at a time up the stairs, he gets into the shower and gets himself fresh, then throws on a black t-shirt, some black joggers, and non-cartoon-related underwear.

He finally checks his phone for the first time after coming home from his run and sees a bunch of new DMs and messages but none were from you. And the fact that he was still thinking about you after running nearly half a marathon had him annoyed. Which is why he’s grateful for the party tonight. Alcohol and sex typically made most things better.

When Gojo runs into Geto in the loft and asks him about his plans tonight, Geto says he’s got an essay to write so he’ll leave for the house party probably closer to midnight. Gojo calls Nanami, who says he’s not going until Geto gets there because until then there would be no one to buffer Gojo’s fucking idiocracy throughout the night (his exact words). Apparently, Chosou’s still sick with food poisoning. When he checks with Hide and Sota, they say they’re going to go but only after pregaming at a sorority party, which Gojo has no patience for. Todo says he’ll be there from dusk ‘til dawn, of course. He sees a bunch of texts in the fraternity group chat that he has muted, as well as a lot of DMs from girls, asking when he’s going to show up but he doesn’t respond to anyone and decides to just go whenever he feels like it.

He ends up leaving home by himself at around 11pm, the walk to the host house taking eight minutes. He walks by some other houses that were having incredibly crowded parties, probably for the people that weren’t invited out to this one, and the smell of weed in the air causes him to scrunch his nose. When he walks up the driveway of the house, he sees Ryota at the door, scanning people’s phones and ushering them inside.

“Hey, man,” Gojo greets Ryota with a solid grab of his hand and slap on the back.

“What’s up, dude.” He returns the greeting.

“Did your mom make it?” Gojo asks.

“Just get the fuck inside,” Ryota says, pointing to the entrance behind him with his thumb.

When Gojo enters the house, the flashing lights temporarily blind him until his eyes quickly readjust. The DJ had the bass-boosted all the way up to where Gojo could feel the music in his bones and his lips curl up into a smile at the excitement running through his veins. It was mostly dark inside, except for the sporadic lighting from the couple of light fixtures near the DJ’s console, and people seemed to move in slow motion as they were briefly illuminated every other second.

Gojo hears some people call his name, but he makes it straight towards the back where he knows the drinks are and downs a couple of shots of tequila before he even considers talking to a single person.

“Yo, dude, you’re here,” he hears Sota say from behind him and he turns around. Sota and Hide are both barely standing up straight with their arms around two sorority girls each. It seems somewhere along the night the two of them had lost their shirts. “Did Geto come with you?”

Gojo shakes his head, making eye contact with one of the girls that was tucked to Hide’s side. “Nah, he’s still working on his essay.” Sota mutters something like lame and Gojo notices the girl miming an obvious blowjob gesture while looking him straight in the eyes. He ignores it and turns around to face the drinks table again, working on mixing himself a drink. He was clearly not shit-faced enough to deal with anything right now.

There’s people yelling in the backyard and Gojo spots Yuuji through the window doing a keg stand outside. He’s about to make his way over there to bear witness too until someone’s grabbing at the back of his shirt.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Gojo fucking Satoru,” he hears a voice call and he sighs, turning around.

Shoko’s standing in front of him, wearing an extremely cropped shirt and a denim skirt, with a couple of her friends by her side.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Shoko fucking Ieiri,” he mimics her with a smirk on his face, “oh, and, uh, friends? Never met you two before.”

One of the girls beside her rolls her eyes. “We’ve fucked like twice,” she scowls, crossing her arms, and then she looks up at the ceiling to ponder something before looking back down at him again, “actually, I’m pretty sure three times.”

“You’re not the only one with a busted memory, sweetheart,” he says and he’s about to continue towards the backyard when Shoko walks in front of him, putting a hand on his chest and pushing him backwards a bit, the movement causing some of the drink in his hand to spill. She’s standing up on her tiptoes and then clenching the fabric of his shirt in her hand, pulling him down towards her.

“You in the mood to make out tonight?” she asks him, biting down on her lip, and Gojo’s eyes are quick to watch the action.

“Sure, but later,” he says casually. Again, not quite shit-faced enough to deal with any of this yet. He grabs her wrist and pulls her hand from his shirt then makes it to the backyard, exchanging greetings with some of his frat brothers on the way there, and makes work of the absolutely horrendous cocktail he’s mixed up for himself as he watches Yuuji entertain the masses.

The night goes on, Gojo getting progressively more alcohol into his system until he’s worked up a steady buzz and finds himself about ready to do a backflip off the patio roof in front of a bunch of cheering people when Geto has to convince him to get down.

“Dude, I’ve literally been here for two minutes,” Geto grumbles.

Gojo slings his arm around his best friend, half in camaraderie and half for support. “I missed you, man, where have you been?” Gojo drawls in Geto’s ears, clearly a bit drunk, and Geto doesn’t even bother answering him as he’s walking him back inside.

When the two of them spot Sota and Hide by a beer pong table, they make their way over. Gojo sobers up a bit when he realizes Todo isn’t there.

“Yo, where’s the king of beer pong at?” Gojo asks, his speech slightly slurred.

Nanami, who had his arms crossed and was leaning back against the wall, shrugs slightly. “He said he’d come later.”

“But he said he’d be here from dusk ‘til dawn!” Gojo’s whining loudly near Geto’s ear and the dark-haired man winces at the volume.

“Alright, let’s sit down,” Geto says and the two of them make their way to the set of couches in the center of the living room where some people were chatting, some were (hopefully) sleeping, and others were getting handsy.

Gojo slumps down on one of the couches, relishing in the comfort, and when he spots Chosou next to him he’s convinced he’s hallucinating. “What the fuck, aren’t you supposed to be sick?”

Chosou shrugs and glances up at Gojo from the screen of his phone, leg bouncing up and down impatiently. “Nah, I was never sick. Just had an exam to study for and had to get out of practice somehow.”

Gojo’s about to get angry at him but instead he just sinks further into the couch and throws his head back to look up at the ceiling, a sudden wave of melancholy washing over him. He was at this party, alcohol running through his veins, yet there was this feeling inside of him that he just couldn’t shake. It was some type of disappointment, an emptiness, like despite everything going on around him he was still missing something.

“This seat taken?”

He tips his head back down and sees Shoko in front of him. His line of sight follows the direction of her pointed finger until he sees that she’s gesturing to his lap where he was very obnoxiously man-spreading.

“Nah, but I was saving it for you,” he says with a grin and she’s rolling her eyes as she takes a seat on his thigh. She seems a bit tipsy herself, giggling at the pinch he gives her at her hip. Ah, yes, Gojo realizes the emptiness he was feeling was probably from the fact that he has yet to get laid tonight.

“Satoruuuu, take me upstairs,” she’s purring in his ear and he shakes his head.

“Jesus, Shoko, relax,” he hisses, already feeling arousal building up inside him. But he himself had no interest in putting any of this on pause.

The details are irrelevant, but she’s gotten him up on his feet, her hand wrapped around his wrist, and dragging him along with her upstairs. Somewhere in Gojo’s hazed and horny mind, he swears he hears a familiar voice downstairs, one that makes his heart skip a beat in his chest, but Shoko’s busy pulling him into the dark hallway upstairs and eventually into the bathroom.

Gojo closes the door behind him, watching as Shoko quickly hops up onto the counter, and it’s not long before she spreads her thighs for him to take his place in front of her and start kissing her. Her hands grab onto his shirt, impatient with the fabric, and he starts trailing kisses down her neck as she wraps her legs around his waist.

“Hey…” she sighs when his mouth reaches her collarbone, “d-did you lock the door?”

“Huh? Yeah, think so,” he mumbles against her skin, hand playing with the hem of her top.

Those were Gojo’s famous last words when the two of them suddenly heard the door open, hinges creaking, and in his periphery he sees that it’s opened almost half-way when the movement stops.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry,” a voice squeaks out and Gojo’s blood runs cold. He turns his head to face the entrance of the bathroom, and then he sees you.

You, in your plain t-shirt and jeans, standing in the hallway with your hand wrapped around the doorknob, blinking as the recognition of his face registers in your mind.

Gojo Satoru was never really the type of guy to be serious to just one woman. Yet for some reason, when he sees you staring at him with wide eyes, and with the faintest hint of hurt in your expression, what he was doing suddenly felt so wrong.

a/n. thanks soooo much for reading!

➸ take me to chapter five!

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crypt1dcorv1dae · 4 months ago

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Ok but hoshina, while being a pretty laid-back guy, still usually keeps a tight control over himself and how he acts around others, but Kafka CONSISTENTLY makes him lose that control and act like a doofus because of/around him, he doesn't seem to act so... Immature? Around anyone else, just Kafka, and I think that's honestly the basis of why I like them together so much??

Cus like... Kafka makes him feel comfortable to act like just a GUY, to be silly and carefree and joke around more than he usually does, he breaks down his defences without even trying to because Kafka is just... Such a good, genuine, person that ... He just... Makes people feel safe. Including hoshina!!!!

Like hoshina wouldn't rely on him to like, physically protect him, not with that 1%!!! But he's drawn in on a personal level, he says it himself, he was taken in by his charm and actually totally forgets to suspect him of anything because, well, he's Kafka... Kafka is just Kafka!!! How could anyone assume he's a threat?!?

But I also just like to think of that like... Lowering of defences applying in other ways too, like hoshina typically being a very confident, sure of himself person, and I don't think he tends to care much about romance or anything, but if he wanted to flirt with someone, he would be very confident about it... But something about KAFKA just makes him... Lame and goofy. He is no longer suave he is no longer cool he just keeps breaking out in goofy grins and giggle fits cus Kafka is so fucking CUTE all the time and where the HELL did his power go he is so weak in the face of Sweet Genuine Himbo

Like he's still THE MORE SUAVE ONE of the two, Kafka is a bumbling fool who doesn't know how to flirt to save his life, but he DOES keep saying and doing things that have absolutely no ulterior motive but are accidentally super charming and cool by just... Being himself. But just know if he is flirted with, or TRYINF to flirt, he's a total failure kabdksnsksjs

And yeah the breaking down defenses, making hoshina more... Genuine and real and rawly HIMSELF applies in... Other situations too. ;) I think his tendency to keep In Control of himself and situations definitely bleeds over into his private life, which honestly with how he talks to n.10 is pretty much canon... I think Kafka makes him wanna just Be Himself and just enjoy the situation for what it is without trying to like... Be anything, do anything, keep himself In Line.

#hoshikaf #kafhoshi #kafka hibino #soshiro hoshina

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megxplryxb · 2 years ago

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Roommate Romance

Pairings: Roommate!Steve x Reader

Notes: Apologies for the long delay, I've had some personal stuff going on lately so thank you all for sticking with me! <3

Disclaimer: Not my gif

It was a little after 9pm on an uneventful Saturday evening, Steve was lying across the shoddy leather couch in the small but cosy living room in nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants he had put on after his shower. He groaned in frustration as he flicked through the channels trying to find something interesting to watch, having long given up on reading some boring ass book that Eddie had given him when he heard a key turn in the door of the apartment he shared with you and Robin.

The latter had left to stay in Vickie’s house twenty minutes ago but Steve assumed Robin had forgotten something and come back for it 'cause he wasn't expecting you home for another couple of hours at least. He flinched a little when he heard the door open and close with a louder than usual bang, hearing heels click through the hallway and towards the kitchen. He knew it was you immediately, the scent of your jasmine perfume filling his nostrils as he pushed himself up from the couch to follow you down the hallway to make sure everything was alright, noting he hadn't heard a second pair of feet follow you inside.

Earlier at the video store, Robin had told Steve about a date you were going on that evening with a guy you’d met while waitressing at Enzo’s during the week. Steve had tried his best to hide his jealousy when Robin began to describe the guy, tuning out her ramblings once she mentioned that he was a “total babe”. She knew that Steve had a crush on you, noticing his attempts to flirt with you on a regular basis but she had made him promise that he wouldn't make a move on you, because she didn't want things to get awkward with you all living under the same roof. But fuck, he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t tempted to bend the rules from time to time and sometimes, he even thought that was exactly what you wanted him to do too.

Steve leaned his shoulder against the doorway of the small, compact, kitchen, watching as you unsuccessfully reached for a wineglass on the top shelf of the cupboard over the sink. He bit on the corner of his lip as your tiny black dress lifted ever so slightly, about to reveal parts of you that he knew he shouldn't be staring at and if he didn't look away now, he didn't know how he would explain the tent growing in his pants when you eventually turned to face him.

"Need a hand?" He smirked, as you let out a small yelp, not expecting Steve to be home already and definitely not expecting to see him standing there in just his sweatpants.

"Jesus Christ, Steve! You almost gave me a heart attack!" You pant, placing a hand across your chest, trying to look away from his bare chest.

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you. God princess, you're in heels and you still can't reach." He teased as you shot him a glare.

"No shit Sherlock, are you going to help or just stand there staring at me?" You questioned, rolling your eyes at the boy.

"I mean honestly, it's a pretty good view." Steve flirted, while you began to feel the heat rush to your face, hoping you had enough make up on to cover your flushed cheeks.

"Will you just quit being a perv and help me already?"

"A please would be nice." He replied, still smirking at you.

"Harrington, I swear to god..."

"What? It's just one little word, it's not even that hard to say." Steve laughed, knowing he was getting under your skin and you were in no mood for his jokes.

"Forget it, I'll get it myself." You stated, turning back to the sink, one knee on the counter top as you began to pull yourself up.

"Hey, hey, what are you doing, are you trying to break your damn ankle?" Steve entered the kitchen, his hands rushing to grab your waist and pull you back down again.

"STEVE!"

"Relax sweetheart, I got it.” He whispered, setting you down, moving behind you, one hand on your shoulder, his toned chest pressing lightly against your back and you prayed he didn't feel the shiver that went all the way down your spine as he reached up for the glass. You had to remind yourself to breath with the feeling of him so close to you, his skin touching yours. You could smell his cologne, the shampoo from his still damp hair and his usual boyish scent that was nothing other than Steve.

"All yours princess, you're welcome by the way." Steve teased, finally handing you the wineglass as your lips pulled in to a smile. You secretly wondered if he knew the effect he had on you, cause you just couldn’t stay mad at him for long. Not when he looked like that, staring at you like he was challenging you to make the next move.

"Why are you home anyway, weren't you working tonight?" You asked, shaking your thoughts away, leaning against the counter, letting out an instant sigh of relief once you removed the heels you'd been wearing all evening. Steve swallowed hard hearing the little moan of pleasure fall from your mouth with the feeling of the cold tiles under your sore feet as you tossed the shoes in the corner.

"Uh, Keith let me go early, the store was pretty dead." He answered, rubbing the back of his neck.

"That doesn't sound like Keith." You replied confused, knowing Keith wasn't that nice of a boss.

"Well, it might have had something to do with the new porno movies being delivered to the store tonight. Think he wanted first dibs." He chuckled as you scrunched your nose in disgust. “Yeah, that sounds more like Keith."

"Anyways, wasn't expecting you home for a while either, Robin mentioned you had a hot date tonight." Steve teased, folding his arms as you let out a sarcastic laugh, moving by him to take a bottle of wine from the fridge.

"Yeah, I thought so too. Turns out, not so hot." You reveal, pouring yourself a drink, taking a quick sip as Steve kept his eyes on you. Selfishly, he was glad that your date turned out to be a bust, because the thought of you being out with some guy that wasn't him had been driving Steve crazy all evening.

"Wanna talk about it?" He asked, before you walked back to the fridge grabbing a beer and offering it to him. "Wanna get a little drunk first?"

"Y..yeah, sure." He nodded, trying to take the bottle from your hand but you pulled it back, smirking at your friend. "Not so fast Harrington, go put on a shirt, then you can have this."

"Why, am I distracting you, princess?" Steve winked, heading to his room, throwing on the first t-shirt he could find before following you towards the living room.

Of course he was distracting you and you cursed Robin for making you promise never to cross that line with her best friend all those months ago when you decided to live together. You liked Steve, a lot, more than Robin even realised. He was everything you'd usually look for in a boyfriend and more but since nothing could ever happen between you, you'd made it your mission to find someone else and forget about Steve Harrington. That turned out to be easier said that done when he walked around shirtless on a daily basis.

An hour had passed and you and Steve were finally starting to feel the effects of the alcohol you had been consuming. When you couldn’t decide on a movie to watch, he played some music from the pretty expensive stereo his parents had given him as a house warming gift when he moved out. Steve was slouched on one side of the little couch while you occupied the other half, lying length ways so your feet were slumped across his legs, a pillow resting on your tummy for comfort, still wearing your dress.

It was nice to have a night with just Steve, it was never just the two of you with Robin, Vickie, Eddie or the kids usually hanging out with you both too.

“So come on, tell me, what happened with your date?” Steve asked, bringing the beer bottle to his lips as you groaned.

"I don't think I'm drunk enough yet." You muttered, pouring more wine in to your glass.

"Was it really that bad?" He asked as he watched your face change. "It was worse than bad, Steve."

"Worse than Cassie Peterson throwing up on me in the movie theatre?" He questioned as you widened your eyes in shock, almost spitting out your wine. "Oh my god! You never told me that?"

"I didn't tell anybody! It was so embarrassing, the whole place was staring at us." He explained as you laughed out loud.

"Is that why you never called her again? Robin was dying to know what happened between you." You teased as he began to explain himself, running a hand through his brown locks.

"She ruined my favourite sweater! Of course I never called her again.” Steve responded, taking a swig from his bottle of beer.

"It's not like she meant to throw up on you, Steve. I bet she felt way worse about it than you did." You giggled at your friend's childish behaviour.

"Hey, I was a total gentleman. I got her some water, made sure she got home safe, all while stinking of vomit I might add! I could've just left her there, I mean she literally barfed all over me." He joked but you knew Steve would never actually do that to anyone.

"She must have been mortified!" You cringed, placing a hand over your face from second hand embarrassment.

"Oh that wasn't even the worst part, she actually leaned in for me to kiss her goodnight when I dropped her home!" Steve revealed as you tried hard not to gag.

"Oh Steve, please tell me you didn't..."

"Of course I didn't! I lied and told her I had a coldsore, then ran back to my car." He chuckled, opening another beer as you threw your head back in hysterics. "Wow, I feel sooo much better about my date now.” You sighed, sipping your wine.

"I swear to Christ if you ever tell Robin that story, I’ll never give you a ride to work again.” Steve threatened, smiling at you.

“I cross my heart Harrington, I’ll take it to the grave with me.” You say sweetly as he rolls his eyes. “Please, we both know you’re gonna tell Robin the minute she walks in that door tomorrow.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” You smile as he shakes his head.

"Anyways princess, enough about my horrible dating life, time to hear about yours.” Steve clapped, while you sat up on the couch, pulling your legs under you, taking a deep breath.

“Ok, so I met him a couple of days ago in work, he came in to pick up lunch for his Boss and he seemed totally nice, y'know? Very handsome, good dresser, nice hair..." You said as Steve began to cough, looking overly offended. "Not as nice as yours Steve, don't worry." You reassured, patting his head.

"Just making sure, princess."

"Anyway, we got talking, flirted a little and he eventually asked if he could take me to dinner. So he picked me up for our date here, gave me a bunch of flowers, opened the car door….”

"So far, he sounds like a real asshole." Steve smirked sarcastically, before pressing his lips to the bottle of beer.

"Guess where he took me for dinner?” You said as Steve tried to read your face. “I dunno, some fancy restaurant with valet parking?”

“He took me to Enzo's, Steve, the place I work five days a week, on my day off!" You whine as Steve started to chuckle at your reaction.

"Maybe he was trying to be nice y'know? Like, maybe he thought you'd feel safer going there with him because you didn't know him and....”

"He took me there because he thought they'd give us a discount." You interrupted, folding your arms. "Did they?" Steve asked as you shook your head.

"Of course not, it wasn't expensive anyway, we didn't even make it past the appetisers." You revealed, drinking the last of the wine in your glass.

"He was just that irresistible, huh?" Steve joked as you playfully nudged him with your foot.

"Totally, I just couldn't wait to rip his clothes off. All that discount talk was too much of a turn on.” You gagged, sticking your tongue out.

“It could’ve been worse…” Steve stated as you wagged your finger at him. “Oh it was, I’m not done yet.” You giggled, pouring more wine in to your glass.

“This elderly couple came in a couple of minutes after us and his whole demeanour changed when he saw them.”

“Parents? Oh Jesus, did they join you for dinner or somethin’?” Steve questioned as you placed a hand over his mouth to stop him from speaking again.

“They weren’t his parent’s. They were his parent’s neighbours and when the lady came over to say hello to him, he introduced me as a work colleague.”

“That’s weird.” Steve said, raising a brow.

“Right? So, I asked him why he said that and he said that she likes to gossip and he’s very private, I accepted that, I’m pretty private too. But then! He left the table to go to use the restroom and the lady came over again and….”

“Did she want a discount too?” The boy joked as you threw a pillow at his face. “Steve! I’m trying to finish my story!” You hiccuped as he held his hands up, holding back another laugh. “I’m sorry, go ahead princess, tell me what happened.”

“She asked me if I was really his work colleague so, I said no because obviously something weird was going on right? Then she told me that he’s already in a relationship and had only proposed to the poor girl two months ago!” You revealed, watching the shock form on Steve’s face.

“You’re fucking kidding me?” He said as you shook your head. “I’m totally serious.”

“What did you do?” Steve asked, hanging on to your every word. His blood starting boil as you continued your story, all his instincts telling him to go find the guy and kick his ass.

“I thanked her for telling me, ordered them an expensive bottle of champagne and told the guys to charge that asshole for it!” You smiled proudly. “Man, what a creep! How did he think he was going to get away with something like that in a small town like this?"

“Honestly, I have no idea. He even came after me, telling me we could finish the date somewhere else!” You shivered as Steve scoffed in disbelief.

"Why didn't you call me to come pick you up?" He asked, looking at you a little more seriously than he had been all night. “I thought you were working.” You shrugged, pulling a strand of hair behind your ear.

“You could’ve called the store, you know I would have come for you, right?” Steve says softly, placing his warm hand on your knee while you nod your head. “I know you would have, Steve." You blush, noticing that he hadn't moved his hand away, still looking at you intently.

"Anyways, cheers to no more bad dates!" You tease, raising the almost empty wine glass to clink with Steve's bottle as he lets out a small chuckle. "Honestly, I don't think I could handle going on any more bad dates.”

"We should totally make a pact, you know, like if we're both still single by the time we're thirty five, we'll just marry each other!" You jokingly suggest as Steve shakes his head.

"Thirty five huh? That's over a decade away sweetheart..." He huffs.

"So?" You laugh, shrugging your shoulders.

"So, that's a lot of sex to be missing out on having with you." The boy admits, eyes widening when he realises what he's just said.

"Oh really? And what makes you think I'd have sex with you?" You challenge, raising a brow at the boy who smirks confidently at you.

"Well theoretically speaking princess, you'd be my wife, so I'd kind of hope that if you were having sex with anybody, It'd be with me."

"You're so cocky sometimes, you know that?" You roll your eyes as he finishes the end of the bottle. "Come on princess, like you never thought about it before." Steve teases as your cheeks begin to flush.

"Thought about what?" You question trying to play dumb. You knew exactly what he meant.

"Us." He answers, eyes completely focused on your reaction.

"I can't say I have." You lie and Steve knows it , because he moves closer to your side of the couch, brushing strands of hair out of your face and he swears he hears a little whimper from you when he touches your cheek.

"So, if I said I wanted to kiss you right now would you let me? Cause I'm not sure I can wait until I'm thirty five for something to happen between us." Steve whispers as you clench your thighs, biting on your bottom lip.

"Steve we can't, I want to, I do, but I promised Robin I..."

"She made you promise too huh?" He smirks as you nodded a yes. "She said she didn't want things to get complicated." You whine while Steve presses his forehead to yours, pulling you in to his lap.

"Sweetheart, I think we're already there, don't you?"

#steve harrington imagine #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington angst #steve harrington stranger things #steve harrington fanfic #king steve #steve the hair harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington one shot #stranger things smut #steve stranger things #stranger things

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jade-len · 10 months ago

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so today i tricked my very straight male friend into reading svsss.

okay look, i wasn't planning to at first and it's not like it was completely my fault. he wanted to read it!

i was showing him how badly they fucked up mu qingfang in the donghua by comparing it to the english novel design (he said that mu qingfang went from looking like a soft dilf to a predator registered on the epstein island list). and then, i showed him how different some of the other character designs were like gongyi xiao's ("he looks like he'd be a genshin character" -friend, to eng novel design) and luo binghe's ("lowkey, he kinda gives airbender vibes" -friend, to bunhe eng novel design)

so that was all i was gonna show him, nothing else. but after seeing them, he goes, "these designs actually look hella cool. what's the book called?"

now, do i:

A. tell him the name, eventually revealing that it's a danmei when he looks it up?

B. just straight up tell him that it's a danmei?

C: don't tell him the name just yet, spill the summary, get him interested, and tell him to not search anything up about it because there's heavy spoilers and it will reveal them the moment he types it up on the search bar

i go with C, obviously.

me: so, basically, some guy named shen yuan transmigrates into an incel harem male power fantasy novel where the protagonist, luo binghe, has hundreds of wives. thing is though, the guy pretty much took over the body of binghe's teacher he had when he was a teenager, who turns out to be a really scummy dude. and now he has to be nice to him so that the protagonist doesn't rip off his limbs and put him into a pickle pot in the future to suffer for eternity.

friend: that sounds hilarious and horrifying at the same time.

me: yes it is, and you should read it. it's like. my favorite novel at the moment. but don't search up anything about it because people spoil that shit. i'll let you borrow my novel

friend: nah don't worry, i'll just pirate it

friend: wait. does it have pictures?

me, my plan coming together: yeah, it has pictures. buuut, when you pirate it, it doesn't. trust me dude, i tried and was severely disappointed. plus, the physical copy is so much better

friend: fuck yeah ok thanks

me: hold on though. i'll text you later to see if my friend who's borrowing it rn is done reading it

he's hyped. he's excited. he craves a good book and a good transmigration interpretation. he's especially happy about the fact that it takes place in a chinese setting with cool powers and an actual good main character. "this sounds so good, god i wanna read it so bad."

i tell him that binghe is actually adorable, too. that it's pretty much found family! my friend then asks if shen yuan adopts him and becomes a father figure or something.

and i said "yes". you know, like a liar. (the father figure part probably isn't a lie though)

now i'm gonna give him the novel tomorrow! of course, i'm gonna cover the chapter 2 bunhe sexual awakening scene with washi tape and say that my baby cousin (sorry baby cousin, you would never <\3) scribbled all over that paragraph with her markers, and since i'm a neat book freak, i put washi tape and just wrote the scene! i don't know if that's really all too believable, but he didn't seem to care that much. just a simple "if my baby cousin did that to my book i would punt them into the sun"

i think what'll be more hilarious is the fact that you can't really tell that svsss is a BL. especially not volume 1. there's like, only a few lines indicating, but if you remove the baby binghe sexual awakening scene then you probably won't be able to know (...if you don't really read romance or anything. idk he's kinda dense anyways). so let's hope he gets attached and has a slow descent into the homo before i drop svsss vol 2 on him!

ok anyways i'll update you guys later with a reblog. maybe in about two or three days lol

(also don't worry, we already fuck around with each other on a daily basis like this. he's already tricked me into reading some manga i was unprepared for, and i thought that it'd be funny to mess around with him using svsss this time lol)

#greatest prank ive ever donee i think #manipulation 100 fr #absolute tomfoolery #am i a bad friend for this? perhaps. is it hilarious? definitely.#this is truly the most moment of all time #svsss #mxtx svsss #the scum villain's self saving system #luo binghe #luo bingmei #shen qingqiu #shen yuan

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nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos · 1 year ago

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Your resident Crawling Chaos, back with more OPLA headcanons.

Another huge thanks to everyone who's been sharing and liking and following. You're all just amazing. I'm working on getting through these headcanons alongside an ask request, that latter of which I'm almost finished with and may be up tonight.

Without further ado, it's headcanons with everyone's favorite green-haired swordsman, Zoro!

Whoops, wrong gif.

I'm SORRY I COULDN'T RESIST.

I mean it's totally normal to pick at the people you love.

So, headcanons. Like Mihawk and Shanks, ranging from total fluff to spicy, and very much NSFW.

LA!Zoro X Fem!Reader

A— Through —Z(oro)

A — Afterglow (How are they have sex?)

Considering how much effort he exerts training on a daily basis, he's going to fall asleep pretty quickly.

But you're not going anywhere.

Not with his arms curled around you, holding you against his chest.

Even if he's already asleep, his grip is going to tighten around your waist, keeping you close.

He hasn't been close to many people in his life, and he's pretty starved for physical affection, so your warmth is positively addictive to him.

B — Backrubs? (Do they like them? Like giving them?)

Looks at you like you're speaking another language if you offer him one.

"Wha...why?"

But he's not going to turn it down.

And he's never going to turn it down again after the first time.

"O...oh. Oh—that feels—oh shit yeah..."

He thought that "sore" was just the default state of anyone who spent the vast majority of their time physically active.

He'll try to return the favor if you want one. He's a little clumsy about it since it's not exactly something he's used to doing, but his hands always feel nice and he takes instruction well enough.

It's not long before his hands are wandering, though.

Not that you're complaining.

C — Cuddling (Do they enjoy cuddling a lot or only at certain moments?)

Zoro likes having you close, but mostly in private.

He loves to bury his face in the crook of your neck while you comb your fingers through his hair.

Wrap his arm tight around your waist and just breathe you in.

D — Dance (Are they good at it? Do they enjoy it?)

Says he has two left feet, but he's never realy tried.

He'll let you try to teach him, but he's going to complain the whole time.

"Come on, what's the point in this? Can't we just spar instead?"

And probably blush a little about how close you are.

And definitely never admit out loud that he actually enjoys it.

E — Extravagant Gestures (Things they do to make you feel loved)

Zoro is pretty new to this, so you're going to have to bear with him.

He's spent the entirety of his life focused on his career as a swordsman and never taken any time for romance before.

Doesn't really think much about doing anything extravagant.

But he will literally put his life on the life to keep you safe.

Even if he knows you're pretty strong yourself, he goes completely ferral if he sees you've been hurt.

F — Fighting (How do they hand arguments/apologies?)

He has to always get the last word in.

Turns into a bit of an overgrown toddler, honestly. Slamming doors and being in general grumpy about the whole ordeal.

Refusing to talk about the problem for a while, then feeling guilty after the fact.

Approaching you later when no one else is around, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Look, I probably...could have handled that better. Not really used to this, but—y'know. Sorry."

If he sees you've been crying he's instantly gutted.

G — Going Out (What do they do for dates?)

If you have anything specific in mind, you're going to have to do the planning.

It's not that he doesn't enjoy spending time together—he just doesn't really understand what constitutes a "date"

Gets a little awkward about asking.

"Hey, ah—you know, I'll probably get lost if I leave the ship by myself so...wanna go do something?"

H — Heartache (How would they handle it if you broke up with them?)

He's going to do everything in his power to act like he's unaffected.

But everyone notices it.

Snapping and being more short-tempered than usual.

Spending more and more time training and napping.

Deflecting when anyone asks about it.

Unable to get you out of his head and working himself to the point of overexertion just to try to ignore his thoughts.

I — Intimacy (When are they intimate with you? And how often?)

Mostly in private.

Will probably curl his arm around your waist when you stand close.

Straight-up blushes when you kiss him in front of the rest of the crew at first, even on the cheek, but he gets used to it over time and starts returning the gesture.

In private, it's a miracle if he's not holding you.

He absolutely loves it when you lay across his chest with your cheek at his shoulder.

J — Joker (How do they make you laugh)

Not really one for cutting jokes, but his sarcastic one-liners are an art form.

Especially when he gets into an insult-match with Sanji.

Even if you are typically the one who has to break it up before comes to blows.

K — Kissing (How good? How often?)

He honestly loves kissing you, and he's going to take any chance to pull you aside to do so.

He's starved himself of physical affection for the vast majority of his life, so he savors every second of it.

Pulling you against him by your hips and wrapping an arm around your waist.

Or walking you back into the wall and leaning over you with his hand over your head.

Slow, deep kisses when you wake up in his arms are his weakness.

L — Lay down (How do they sleep with you? Are they a cuddler or do they prefer their space?)

He has to have you against him.

Laid across his chest with an arm around your back.

If you wake up before him, you're not going anywhere until he's ready to move.

If you're too busy to nap, he's going to wait until you're not.

Absolutely refuses to lay down without you at any given time.

M — Making babies (Do they want to settle down and have kids?)

Yeah, no.

At least not for a very long time.

His dream of being the world's greatest swordsman takes precedence right now. Having a kid would make that borderline impossible.

N — Nervous? (How confident are they when it comes to romance?)

As confident as Zoro is about everything else, this whole romance thing has him pretty out of his element.

Had a few one night stands and flings during his time pirate hunting, but never anything serious.

He would never admit that he's nervous, but he's more obvious than he thinks.

Trying to act aloof but stumbling over words.

Getting legitimately surprised when you do the simplest little things for him.

O — Oral Fixation (Giving or recieving? And how good are they?)

Your mouth makes him weak.

Shivering when you wrap your hand around his cock and trail your tongue up the length and wrap your lips around the head.

Gripping your hair with both hands, alternating between laying his head back and watching you.

He's pretty sure he'd go crazy if he watched you the entire time, especially with the way you gaze up to meet his eyes.

Holding your head still when it gets too good to hold back and thrusting back to your throat.

"Oh fuck I love it when you gag on it—"

He's definitely returning the favor.

Picking you up and setting you on the nearest surface—a bed, a hammock, a table, anywhere he can tug off your panties and pull your legs over his shoulders.

Slow and sensual, but not teasing—he just loves hearing your little moans and whimpers, feeling your thighs trembling.

Pushing one or two fingers in and out of you so he can feel you tighten up when you come.

P — Pet Peeves (Things they don't like in a partner)

Nagging. You asked him to do something and he's going to do it, don't get pushy about it or it's going to take him even longer.

Lack of communication—he is new to this whole relationship thing, you can't expect him to know everything you want all the time if you don't tell him.

Flirting with Sanji. Just don't. He can and will murder that shitty waiter.

Q — Quiet Time (How much alone time do they need, or do they want to be with you 24/7?)

He's always been a solitary person, and it surprises him juat how much time he wants to spend with you.

Doesn't want you glued to his side or anything, but he'd rather be with you than not be with you.

Especially in a new place. He knows you can handle yourself, but still gets worried something might happen to you and takes it upon himself to act as your personal body guard.

And let's face it, he'd get lost if he went off on his own anyway.

R — Romance (How romantic are they? Do they have to force it or does it come natural?)

For not having much experience, he's honestly incredibly sweet when you're alone together

Playing with your hair.

Foreheads touching just so he can look into your eyes.

Slow, tender kisses and gentle caresses.

"You're way too good for me."

Gets absolutely flustered if anyone walks in, and you giggling about it doesn't help.

S — Spending Money (How much do they like to spend on you?)

To be fair, he doesn't really have much money. None of you do.

But he's pretty insistent on paying for both of you if you go out together, even if that's all he can do right now.

He wants to buy things for you, and if the crew ever strikes it big, he plans on making up for it.

T — Trust (Are they trusting of you? Jealous?)

Zoro has a lot of trust issues in general, but he's pretty trusting of you.

You haven't given him any reason not to trust you.

He still hasn't told you everything about his past, but he's getting around to it.

U — Underwear (What kind do they wear, and what kind do they like on you?)

He's not very particular about his own underwear.

Definitely comfort and maneuverability over looks, but if you have a preference he's fine with it, as long as it's not thongs or something.

Don't even ask, he's not.

But he loves seeing you in a thong. The skimpier the better.

If he can reach under your skirt and feel your bare ass, he's going to be absolutely ferral for you in an instant.

V — Vulnerable (How vulnerable are they with you? Is it easy for them to open up to you?)

He's more vulnerable with you than he is with anyone else.

Still doesn't exactly wear his heart on his sleeve, but he's trying.

Used to handling everything himself so it's a steep learning curve.

Tries to voice things that bother him, even if it comes out a little forced and awkward, but he makes the effort, and you're proud of him for it.

W — Wine and Dine (Do they prefer meals at home or going out with you? Who does more of the cooking?)

A cook Zoro definitely is not.

He'd rather take you out and not have to deal with Sanji, but money is an object.

He loves watching you cook. He might even offer to help, but you probably shouldn't let him.

He could burn a pot of boiling water.

X — X-Rated (How good are they in bed? What do they like?)

Very passionate, and a little playful.

It drives him crazy when you tease him.

Bend over in front of him in a skirt and he's going to be dragging you off somewhere private in seconds.

Pushing you up against a wall and pushing your skirt up your hips.

Kissing you hard enough to bruise and pulling you against him by your ass so you can feel him get hard.

Shivering, kissing and growling against your neck when you rub him through his pants.

"God, you're such a little fucking tease..."

And he absolutely loves it.

Not wasting any time in pulling your shirt and your bra off so he can feel every inch of you.

Teasing your nipples with his thumb while he grips your ass harder to grind against you.

Wrestling out of his shirt when you get on your knees in front of him.

Tangling his hands in his hair and groaning when you wrap your lips around his cock.

Losing control fast and holding your head still to fuck your mouth until you're gagging on him.

Letting you go when you dig your fingers into his hips and pulling you back up by your hair, picking you up by your ass and kissing down the column of his throat while he catches his breath.

Laying you down on the nearest surface and kissing down your body.

Trying to get himself back under control so he doesn't cum within two minutes.

Pulling your skirt down and flinging it away, before giving you a grin and tugging your panties down with his teeth.

Pulling your thighs up over his shoulders and tugging you to him by your hips, immediately pushing two fingers inside you and sucking your clit.

Rolling his tongue in slow, firm circles, keeping his pace steady while you grip at his hair and arch your back and moan.

Giving a little purr/growl when you come, gripping your hips.

Absolutely craving you now, shifting up to lean over you, rubbing your thighs and thrusting into you before your orgasm is even over.

Going hard and heavy right from the first stroke.

Gripping at your thigh and your hair and groaning into your neck while you cling to him.

Reaching between you to rub your clit, bringing you right back to the edge in minutes.

"Come on, baby. Come for me again. Come on my cock."

Watching your eyes roll back and swearing under his breath when he feels your walls tighten around him.

Losing it immediately when you cry out and arch your back under him.

Pulling out and tugging on you by your arm until you lean down and wrap your lips around him again.

Pulling your head forward and groaning, holding you in place by your hair while you suck the cum out of him.

Collapsing into bed with you and pulling you onto his chest, kissing your neck and your forehead, telling you how good you are while you both catch your breath.

Y — Yearning (How long will they pursue the person they're interested in before losing interest?)

Not very long, honestly.

He'll shoot his shot a couple times, but if you're not interested he's not going to press it.

He respects your boundaries completely, and he doesn't abide the whole hard-to-get game.

If you decide you're interested after that, you're going to have to approach him.

Z — Zen (What do they do to wind down and relax? Do they prefer to do it alone or with you?)

As much as he trains, he needs a lot of downtime.

And he definitely wants you there for it.

Holding onto you like you're his teddy bear, having a beer or two with you, nuzzling into your hair.

He never really considered the possibility that he'd be as close to someone as he is to you, and doesn't want to waste any time being away from you.

He's still pretty reclusive, but you're the one exception to that rule.

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