#homelander x chubby reader

[cupidkenji]

If you think I'm pretty

Now playing: if u think i'm pretty - Artemas won't you give that shit a rest? Pairing: Homelander x afab!reader CW: fingering, praise, slightly OOC homie, threats of captivity (he says hes gonna keep reader in the penthouse that's it I promise it's not genuine), cursing, sub!reader, porn without plot (I think this is applicable), they're in a relationship before this, reader says 'John' cause moaning homelander is funny as fuck Summary: Being a perfectionist, you're unsatisfied with a recent test score. Homelander has a cure for that. Disclaimer: reader is always thought to be chubby/fat but there are no physical descriptors here, just an FYI WC: 1,955 Genuinely idk I'd like to apologize for this. I fell out of my Criminal Minds hyperfixation like months ago and haven't written since so I'm really rusty. This is 100% a self-insert but reader is gn and not described other than the fact that they're AFAB. Also this was only proof read once so please point out typos if you see them <3

Your mother used to scold you for being too hard on yourself. Her face is virtually the only thing you can picture as your screen burns your eyes a bit. It’s too early for the high brightness of the device, having woken up before the sun could reintroduce your eyes to light. You’d set yourself up to wake slightly after midnight, intending to check the score of a huge test you’d taken months ago and simply go back to sleep in a matter of minutes. A rather stupid plan, in hindsight. You were questioning now if you knew yourself at all. Your phone had nearly been in your hand when you felt the cold burn of anxiety in your lungs. This test was a huge fucking deal. You were a hardcore perfectionist on top of that, trying with countless futile attempts to surrender your idea of the model score. You just needed to pass, not get your professor to memorialize you in marble for your pure genius. You’d gotten up instead of turning on your phone, brushing your teeth and making your bed before pacing the room slightly while you thought. Essentially, you were just allowing the mantra of ‘cope’ to bound back and forth between your ears for a couple minutes. You weren’t sure if you wanted to cope with the disappointment of a lesser score, or you were telling yourself to come down a couple pegs and be happy with getting by. The repetition of the word soothed that icy-hot feeling that had festered from your lungs to your fingertips, and you checked.

You were fine. Not the score you wanted, but you were fine. 

Mentally you writhed against the slump of your shoulders, but the weight of this self-inflicted shortcoming hit harder than you were capable of defending yourself from. The long sigh you let out was all frost as the tension left your airways. How underwhelming. You laid down on the bed you’d made not ten minutes ago, hearing the window slide open a few seconds into your pity party. You normally left it unlocked for him, knowing if anyone else attempted to enter your home, he wasn’t far. He told you himself that he seemed to have tuned into you specifically; swearing he’d be able to hear you on the other side of the city if you needed him.

“It’s way too early for you to already be having a bad day. The sun’s not even up.” He was closer now, fully sealed into your space and approaching you with comfortable footsteps. You never fully got over the irony of seeing America’s greatest hero flying through your window in sweatpants. “What’s wrong?” You always noticed the subtle way he changed how he spoke around you. In every interview or interaction you’d ever witnessed of his, he’d spoken like a character. For a man who hated having his words scripted, he spoke the same as every cookie-cutter movie he’d starred in. He didn’t talk that way with you, something you hoped was subconscious. A demonstration of the safety he felt around you.

You shrugged in response to the question. You acknowledged the trivial nature of your feelings, knowing you probably reeked of sadness to him but attempting to downplay it anyways. “Bad test score.”

He sat down next to you on the edge of the bed, allowing you the space to remain sprawled out. “Doubtful.” He laughed slightly as he said it, shaking his head and smiling. He looked at you, his eyebrows furrowing minorly. “What’d you get?”

“A four.”

“What were you hoping to get?”

Your voice was barely audible as you spoke, knowing he would pick it up but also trying to spare yourself the rush of immaturity hearing yourself speak would bring. “A five.”

He sighed - a sigh full of endearment that his eyes reflected as he looked at you. You told him once that his eyes were the first thing you’d noticed. It was sunny the day you’d met, and they looked practically ethereal. You’d seen such chaos reflected in them even from day one. The masses called him ‘soulless’ often, but you couldn’t understand such an accusation from anyone who had ever seen him. His eyes were practically overflowing with soul, every time you looked at him it was all you saw. They were capable of incredibly dangerous things but they were so entrancing. He was so fucking enticing. 

You broke the eye contact, but he nudged your leg and moved his head to try and follow your eyes. “Hey-” He called for your attention, so you looked back at him. “You know that’s a good score, right?”

You smiled small at him. “No- I know. I’m just…I don’t know- strict with myself.” You found it hard to put into words. You knew you’d done well, but the ability to feel pride felt withheld from you. Like your eyes bore into it but your mind refused to distribute the feeling it brought to something tangible.

“I think you’re just too much of a fucking perfectionist.” His hand was splayed across your upper thigh from where he sat. No matter which part of you he touched, he had a grip that made your head spin. He was so sure of himself, the strength demonstrated from such an unassuming form never lost the novelty that it’d held when you met him. “Can’t let yourself admit when you did good.”

You tried to be dismissive, but it was hard to fake anything with a man like him. “As if you aren’t, John.” His jaw got the slightest bit tighter at the use of his name. Such a miniscule action that easily dodges the eyes of people who aren’t looking. You couldn’t really imagine not looking at him.

“I’m serious.” His face was still relaxed, but the expression in his eyes had shifted. His pupils dilated and his full attention was on you. “You did good.”

The only con of being with somebody with abilities such as his was the lack of secrecy. You used to laugh with your friends about how grateful you were for the discrete nature of arousal when living without certain body parts. That went out the window when you started seeing him. He knew the second anything shifted within you. He had every perversion you’d ever dreamt about practically categorized by the time your two month anniversary had rolled around. One of his favorite pastimes was casually working a turn-on into conversation and just watching you squirm.

You fought the urge to pull away from his hand, feeling your stomach drop slightly at a declaration like that. “Thank you.” You looked away from him again. Something you knew he didn’t really like but choosing to try and save face over anything else. 

“Yeah…I don’t know.” You could see his focus on the topic increasing by the second. His disposition was happy, but he held serious and almost threatening undertones. He tightened his grip on your thigh and you looked at back to him, hesitantly following the silent command to keep your eyes up. “I think you should say it.”

“John-” His assertiveness was starting to get to you, it always did. You sat up on your forearms to be a little more level with him but he moved his hand from your thigh to your stomach and pushed you back down. The thought of having to lay there and explicitly state that you did well on your test felt like a kid having to write in repetition on a chalkboard in detention. 

He was looking down at you, the eye contact making you slightly dizzy. His face was kind, it almost always was when he was around you, but the conversation was derailing. “I just think it’s important that you understand this.” He was so good at making you want what he thought was best.

You inhaled, swallowing your pride and licking your lips. “What do you want me to say?”

That familiar, condescending smile was starting to creep onto his lips. “Just tell the truth.” His eyebrows raised slightly in a silent prompt. “Say you did good.”

His hand was descending from your stomach, making it’s way to the hemline of your underwear. You hadn’t bothered to change out of what you were sleeping in, only now realizing the vulnerability of it. You held your tongue for a moment, breathing out a quiet “I did good.” 

He tore the only fabric between his hand and you off your body as easily as ripping a sheet of paper and leaned in a little more. “Say it again.”

“John-” You said it as barely an exhale as he skimmed his hand over you. You hadn’t even registered just how sensitive or how wet you’d gotten in the few minutes you were talking to him.

“I don’t know why you act so fucking noble. You should be running Ashleys around in circles or giving interns your coffee order. Not any of this testing bullshit that you’re too good for anyway.” His tone elevated to that mocking, cocky tone that swept into the most shame filled crevices of your mind and tugged the most deprived parts into the driver seat. He thumbed at your clit while he spoke, increasing and decreasing the pressure whenever he felt like it and effectively snatching any remaining ability to form coherent thought from your grabbing hands. “You’ve been chosen by a God, honey. You can do anything, I can give you anything.” He got breathier as he spoke, seemingly soaking up the desperation you were excreting and matching it in a tenfold.

You felt two of his fingers enter you effortlessly and you couldn’t stop yourself from gripping his arm. You always felt the power imbalance most in times like these. A feeling like pulling an angel away from heaven just for yourself, combing through it’s wings with your fingers or trying to lap up a fraction of that status in a wildly inappropriate disregard for the natural roles of nature. He was so much more than you, but he just wanted you to feel good. You swore under your breath as he started circles on your clit. He never got hand cramps, never got tired. He would go until you couldn’t anymore.

“That’s it.” He had barely said it, more just exhaled the assurance under his breath. You were close, you’re sure he could feel it. “Gonna move you to my penthouse. Keep you braindead and needy.”

 It shouldn’t have hit you the way it did. Considering who he was, he could easily fulfill that promise with nobody at Vought even thinking twice. It was the way he said it, the way he acts. Always needing control and always right. The most powerful man alive spent his time fantasizing about control over you, and your stomach twisted in disgust at how badly it got you off.

He slowed his movements as your high declined. He was breathing heavy, but your heart was beating like a drum. He had the smallest smile on his face like the sound gave him a sense of satisfaction. You rose to your forearms, this time with no protest from him, and watched him stand up. He held the back of your head with the hand that wasn’t nearly dripping and kissed the top of your head. It was chaste and quick, but the domesticity of it made your throat ache. He uttered something about getting a towel to clean up, stating he’d be right back before exiting the room. 

You rushed the words out before he could leave. “But you didn’t-”

“Next time.” He just waved you off. “I just thought you deserved a little reward.”

[mostlyghoestly]

LISTEN i’m coming out of the woodworks to write fluff for “the boys”

LITERALLY EVERY CHARACTER.. OKAY maybe not HER but good enough.

I JUST NEED MORE THE BOYS FICS IT SEVERELY LACKS (not for SB tho :( )

SHOOT ME AN INBOX FOR WHO, And if you have ideas thank youuuu

[dream-a-little-bit-longer]

Homelander x Fat! transmasc reader

Ao3 link

I love you like an alcoholic

go ahead read it you know you wanna

[queenmayor23]

I started writing a story about Homelander milking a chubby male reader like the cow he is but I don’t remember where I put it.

[sillyswriting]

: ̗̀➛ forsaken

ㅤㅤ     ㅤ  ₊✩ˎˊ˗ highlander johnny 'soap' mactavish x princess reader

01 : am pòsadh

cw : mention of sexual assault, gore, violence, death, chubby reader, historical facts and inaccuracies, (johnny wearing kilts, yes, it's a warning of its own) words : 6,8k

ㅤㅤ     ㅤ  collection - prev ⋆ next

bold - french italic - gaelic

In the year of our Lord 1688, your life was torn apart.

You had been sent away to England, leaving behind the quiet French countryside where you had spent your childhood. It was no surprise—your entire life had been a preparation for this, molded by lessons in English manners and language. You were born into an era of war between England and the United Provinces of the Netherlands, with your homeland standing beside its allies. Yet, in a fleeting moment of peace, destiny was sealed: a French princess was to wed an English prince.

Leaving France had been heartbreaking. Under the reign of Louis XIV, royalty had flourished like never before. You had visited the Great King many times with your family—at the Louvre or in the gardens of Versailles—dreaming of a life of splendor for yourself. And such splendor could never be found across the sea. 

Your family held enough power for you to be chosen as a token of peace between the realms. Jacques II, the cousin of your king, saw fit to unite the nations. His pro-French policies unsettled his people, making your arrival unwelcome. You had arrived with maids and knights, all there to serve you. This was seen as an insult, as if your family—and by extension, France—did not trust England to provide assistance and protection. 

Furthermore, you were a Catholic princess. Even with a Catholic king on the throne and the Declaration for Liberty of Conscience proclaimed just a year prior, you could still feel the deep-seated resentment of the Anglicans. Anti-Catholic sentiment ran high, and despite King James II’s efforts to promote religious tolerance, many viewed Catholicism as a threat to England’s Protestant identity. Your future husband was also Catholic, and your impending marriage was denounced as unholy by most Anglican clergy, further fueling the unrest. 

All of it had been a mess from the beginning. 

As your maids placed the last pin in your hair, you gazed into the mirror. You wore a simple white dress—nothing too extravagant, for fear of being accused of bringing French excess and debauchery to England. Had you been married in your homeland, you were certain your mother would have insisted on finding the finest tailors and the richest fabrics for your gown. It would have surely been crafted by the royal family's own tailors, and you would have had a true princess’s wedding. But England was different. The threat of war loomed once more, leaving little room—and little money—for luxury. 

Watching the lively city through the window of the carriage, anxiety gnawed at you. All your life, you had dreamed of your wedding day. In those dreams, your mother and sisters were by your side, their presence a constant comfort—one that was lost to you today. Instead of an English ceremony, you had envisioned marrying a French nobleman in the royal chapel, with your king himself blessing your union. But reality had rewritten your fate.

Quiet tears ran freely down your cheeks, your only comfort the necklace clasped around your neck—a token from your mother, a symbol of her love. You were the only one of her children to be sent away. All your sisters had married noblemen from your province, and your brothers served as knights for the King, never more than an hour’s ride from your family’s lands. But you, the youngest—though already older than most brides—had been saved for the Brits. Their kings had to be bound by blood to yours, and so, duty had torn you from home.

You were pulled from your thoughts by your knight, Ser John, as he silently handed you a handkerchief. He was another source of comfort. From the moment you were old enough to venture outside alone, he had been your personal knight—an unwavering presence throughout your childhood. Always near, never overbearing. A quiet protector. Learning he would accompany you on this journey had eased your nerves, if only slightly. In a world of uncertainty, you had longed for something familiar, and in this, God had answered.

Now, as you waited in front of the chapel, something felt off. Ser John stood by your side, the father figure entrusted with giving you away. At a glance, he appeared composed, but you knew where to look. His grip on the hilt of his sword was tight—too tight—betraying his unease. His sharp eyes swept over the room again and again, scanning for unseen threats. His posture was rigid, more so than usual, and a single bead of sweat traced its way down his temple.

If one looked closely, everything about the knight spoke of discomfort. He was tense, coiled like a hunting dog straining against the leash, ready to strike at a moment’s notice.

September was a dull month for a wedding, yet here you were. Your hand rested inside your knight’s arm as he guided you down the aisle. It was a small ceremony in the royal chapel—you still deserved the finest location, just not the finest funding. As you glanced around, you noticed unease etched onto some of the guests' faces, mirroring your own anxiety. The tension in the air was palpable, unnatural. Guests were never meant to look this nervous—unless…

Stopping in front of your future husband, Ser John bowed respectfully before stepping aside to join the other knights. The king stood before you, prepared to bless the union before the priest began the ceremony.

As the king spoke, you stole a glance at your betrothed. He was… acceptable, you supposed. Not to your taste, but that hardly mattered—this marriage was a means to an end, not a matter of personal desire. His hair was cropped short, though his hairline was already receding despite his youth. His beard had been trimmed neatly, yet it still looked rough, as if he hadn't put much effort into grooming. His reputation preceded him—not unclean, but undeniably careless.

Your mind drifted back to the noblemen of France—all the gentlemen you had met throughout your life, each more handsome than the man you were now bound to. You could only hope that your future children would take after you and your family, rather than him.

Just as the king stepped aside, a commotion erupted outside the chapel doors. It was not unusual for crowds to gather during a royal wedding, but this sounded different. The distant hum of voices grew sharper—screams and insults echoing all the way to the altar, sending a chill down your spine.

This was no celebration. It was anger. Hatred.

A revolution.

Without warning, something warm and wet splashed across your face. Was the priest already blessing you? Confused, you turned—just in time to see a sword slicing through your groom. Your breath caught in your throat as your gaze dropped to your dress, now speckled with red.

A chilling scream pierced the chapel, and only then did the horror truly sink in.

Traitors among the guests had turned on the true attendees, clashing violently as they fought to strike down the royal family. Chaos engulfed the chapel, swords clashing, bodies falling, and desperate cries echoing through the sacred halls.

Amid the turmoil, a man with fury burning in his eyes spotted you, frozen at the altar—too shocked to move. To him, you were not a bystander, nor a foreign princess. You were simply a Catholic woman, an enemy, a symbol of everything he despised. And to serve his cause, you were a sacrifice worth making.

Bolting straight toward you, dagger poised to strike, the attacker was met with Ser John—one of the finest swordsmen in the entire French kingdom. The heathen never stood a chance. The moment he lunged, your knight intercepted him with ruthless precision. Without hesitation, Ser John seized your hand and led you swiftly toward the back rooms of the chapel—the passage that granted access to the royal castle.

Escaping through the main doors was impossible. The chaos outside had already breached the chapel, and the royal guards lay lifeless on the ground, their duty fulfilled in death.

Scanning the room frantically, you searched for the king—but he was nowhere to be seen. Panic tightened around your chest as your gaze dropped to the lifeless bodies before you.

Your betrothed lay in a pool of his own blood, his once-sloppy appearance now eerily still, frozen in death. Not far from him, the priest had collapsed, his lips parted in an unfinished prayer, his glassy eyes staring at the heavens he had tried to reach in his final moments.

Your maids had been slaughtered as well, and when you turned your head to where they had once stood, you were met with a sight so vile it made your stomach churn. Men were upon them, defiling their lifeless bodies as if they were nothing more than common whores. The sacred walls of the chapel echoed with your screams—of agony, of terror, of suffering beyond words. The horror of it all burned itself into your mind, a nightmare you would carry for the rest of your days.

The air reeked of iron and incense, an unsettling blend of the sacred and the profane. The chapel, once a place of holy union, had become a slaughterhouse.

Blasphemy. Savages—the lot of them—desecrating the house of God.

You had heard tales of war, of the cruelty that consumed men when they felt threatened—but you had never imagined witnessing it with your own eyes.

Tears streamed freely down your cheeks, showing no sign of stopping, as you let your knight—your only chance of survival—lead you through the twisting corridors of the royal castle. He moved with purpose, unwavering, cutting down anyone who stood in his path. In this moment, everyone was a potential threat to your safety, and by extension, to him.

His only goal was to reach the stables, find a horse, and ride north—far from the fallen city, now in the hands of the enemy. Ser John had heard of clans in the distant north, ones who owed allegiance to neither king nor queen. They would help you return to France. And if they refused—he would find a way to make them.

The task at hand was far more difficult than expected—the savages had planned well. They had attacked the chapel and the castle simultaneously, using the fury of the masses to swell their numbers, making it easy to breach the palace doors. Now, they were everywhere. And in your white wedding gown, slipping by unnoticed was nearly impossible.

But Ser John didn’t care. He was better than any of them—better than any royal guard this country had to offer. One by one, those who dared to face him fell, slaughtered with ease, their blades barely leaving a scratch on his skin. And even if they did, it didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was that your skin remained untouched. 

As you let your knight drag you wherever he willed, your numb body was in stark contrast to the frantic pace of your mind. Thoughts raced, but all you could see was death—everywhere. Screams filled the air, women wept, children ran aimlessly, only to be struck down without mercy. The castle was burning. You couldn’t see the flames, but the acrid scent of smoke and ash told you enough—they were erasing every trace of the Catholics.

You had no idea if the king and his family had escaped. Surely, if they had, Ser John would have taken you to them. But he hadn’t. And that could only mean one thing.

Little did you know, your knight had no intention of rejoining the royal family. He had assessed the risks, and staying with them was far more dangerous than fleeing north in search of foreign allies.

As you reached the stables, you were met with yet another horrific sight—men slitting the horses’ throats. Surely, it was to ensure no one could escape the castle grounds. The gruesome scene startled you so much that a sharp gasp escaped your lips. At once, the men froze, then turned, their eyes locking onto you and your knight.

As gently as the situation allowed, Ser John pushed you behind him with the hand that wasn’t gripping his sword. Five against one—an unfair fight, but one he could handle.

He had the advantage of age; his enemies often mistook him for an old, weary soldier. But here, they didn’t know his reputation. In France, these men would have fled the moment they saw him, unwilling to cross swords with Ser John Price.

Good. John had missed the thrill of battle.

His exploits on the battlefield were the very reason he had been chosen to protect you, the princess. Nearly twenty years had passed since he first swore his oath, and though he had come to appreciate the quiet days spent as your knight, the rush of combat was something he had missed—more than he had ever realized.

The smirks on the men's faces told John everything he needed to know—cocky bastards, convinced he was just an old man. A smirk of his own crept onto his lips. He would enjoy this. The only thing that soured the moment was knowing you had to witness this side of him—the side that craved violence, that thrived in the chaos of death.

To you, he had always been the gentle knight, the steadfast protector shielding you from harm. But now, you were beginning to understand—the dangers back home had been nothing but illusions, fleeting worries of a sheltered life.

This was real danger. Life-threatening. Merciless.

You didn’t know what you had done to deserve Ser John, but never in your life had you been more grateful for him.

There were no soldiers like him, no men with his unwavering loyalty. Most knights would have fled, abandoning their oaths the moment the battle turned dire. But not Ser John. He lived by a code—one he would uphold until his dying breath.

As you watched the men close in on your knight, you could see the wicked intentions flickering in their eyes—the vile things they dreamed of doing to you once your protector lay dead at their feet.

You knew, without a doubt, that John could take on all five of them. He was stronger, faster, deadlier. But a shadow of fear crept into your heart nonetheless. What if, by some cruel twist of fate, he lost? 

The thought sent a shiver down your spine, for you knew that if Ser John fell, the fate awaiting you would be far darker than death itself.

The first man who lunged at Ser John lay dead as swiftly as he had attacked. A ripple of shock passed through the remaining four—you saw it in their eyes, the brief flicker of fear. They had realized, far too late, that they had gravely misjudged the man standing before them.

John had moved so quickly, so precisely, that they had barely registered his strike. As their fallen comrade choked on his own blood, the others came to a silent agreement. Four against one.

And they all attacked at once.

Even though the fight was over quickly, with your dear Ser John emerging victorious, the men had not gone down without a struggle. They had managed to land several blows, cutting into John's arms and leaving multiple wounds that would need tending. You were certain he would refuse your help, stubborn as he was, but you had to try—if he didn’t let you tend to him, the blood loss alone could bring him to his knees.

You didn’t know much about medicine or treating injuries, but you knew one thing for certain—blood was meant to stay inside the body.

Just as you had expected, John gently dismissed your attempt to tend to his wounds.

“Nothing I haven’t endured before, Your Highness,” he said softly, guiding you toward the back rooms of the stables.

Inside, the stable boy laid dead, slaughtered like the horses.

As if your body had been waiting for a brief moment of safety, you lurched forward, retching near the boy’s lifeless form. The horror, the blood, the stench—it was all too much. John’s gentle gaze fell upon you, filled with quiet sorrow. He had no way to shield you from the death and destruction surrounding you. He wished he could, but it was far too late for that now.

Letting you have a moment to yourself, John took a linen sheet from the bed and gently draped it over the boy’s lifeless body, offering him a small shred of dignity in his senseless death. He let out a quiet prayer, asking God to guide the boy’s soul safely home. Once finished, he turned away, swiftly searching the cabinets for anything useful for the journey ahead.

He had to be quick—time was not on your side.

Once he had gathered some food, water, and spare clothing, he turned back to you, offering a change of garments. Your wedding dress, once meant to symbolize a new beginning, was now a grim reminder of the massacre. Stained with blood and far too extravagant, it made you an easy target. You needed to disappear, to blend into the shadows. John couldn’t risk you standing out—not when danger lurked around every corner.

You were left alone as Ser John stood guard outside, granting you the dignity of changing in private.

It was a far more difficult task than you had expected—having been dressed by maids your entire life, you struggled with the intricate ties of your wedding gown. Frustration mounting, you finally tore them apart, the delicate fabric ripping under your fingers. You didn’t care. The dress was nothing more than a relic of a life that had been stolen from you. And time was not a luxury you could afford.

The clothes John had gathered felt foreign against your skin. Trousers—something you had never worn before—clung awkwardly to your legs, making you feel strange and exposed. The oversized shirt drowned your figure, erasing every trace of the woman you had once been. If not for your long hair cascading freely down your back, you might have passed for a boy—a poorly dressed, disheveled boy.

You hadn't even realized that the elegant hairstyle your maids had carefully crafted was gone, undone by the chaos of the night. Now, your hair flowed wild and untamed.

Making your way outside the room, you found Ser John tending to the last remaining horse. Despite your misery, fortune—or perhaps divine intervention—had granted you this small mercy, a sign that you were meant to survive.

You noticed that he had also attempted, albeit poorly, to tend to his wounds. He had wrapped them in cotton to stop the bleeding—at least that was one less thing for you to worry about.

One look at you, and John knew he had to do something you would hate him for. Moving slowly so as not to startle you, he acted swiftly.

"Forgive me, Your Highness," he murmured softly, just before you felt him seize your hair. A moment later, long strands lay scattered on the floor, severed by the dagger he had concealed as he approached.

Long hair—a symbol of refinement, a silent testament to your place among the fallen aristocracy. It marked you as someone who once belonged to a world of luxury and status, a world that no longer existed. Now, it was nothing more than a dangerous reminder of who you were—a reminder you could not afford.

As quickly as he had approached, John left your side to tend to the horse once more. You stood frozen, staring down at the strands of hair. It wasn’t the loss itself that saddened you, but what it represented. Your old life was gone. Ahead lay the unknown, and with it, the weight of trust—you were placing your fate in the hands of your loyal knight. 

As he helped you onto the horse and urged it into a sprint toward an uncertain future, you couldn't help but long for the familiar French countryside you knew so well. You wished you were back in your well-kept garden, lying in the soft grass, without a single care in the world.

That life was long gone, but God had a new path laid out for you.

After a long week on the road, you realized that Ser John had no intention of taking you back to the royal family. He had only explained himself when you asked—never before. At first, his secrecy had angered you, but in time, you understood his reasons. You were already reeling from the massacre that had taken place; he had simply wished to spare you further distress.

When he spoke of the clans high in the Scottish mountains, you grew wary. Trading one group of bloodthirsty savages for mountain men, so far removed from civilization that, though they were under the English crown, they answered to no one. You had no idea why they, of all people, would agree to help you. The knight had explained that the Highlanders were also enemies of the English crown, and in a common enemy, one could find an ally. Though you represented another throne, France was once again at war with England.

Those conversations had taken place months ago, yet you had still not reached the fabled Highlands. Months on the road had done nothing to ease your sorrow. Your sleep was plagued with nightmares, and you spent your days in constant paranoia, fearing that someone would recognize you. But there was no way—you were too far from the fallen city, too far from any Frenchmen who could identify you. 

A few weeks after your escape, Ser John had settled in a small town north of the English kingdom, staying long enough to earn some coin for the journey ahead. It was then that you learned you had been declared missing. Rumours said you were killed by the English forces who had taken the castle that day. Furthermore, you learned that the former king had made it safely across the border and had joined his cousin, your king, in France.

Upon learning that the English monarch had made it back to your homeland, a storm of anger and sorrow overtook you. Had your knight taken you to the royal family, you would be home by now—safe in your mother's arms, far from harm and death. But fate had decided otherwise, and you remained on the road, searching for a foreign land that might not even accept you.

By then, it was already too late to turn back. You had wept and screamed at Ser John that day. The moment he stepped into the small room he had rented for the two of you, you confronted him with everything you had learned from the villagers. Of course, he had known all along. One of his greatest regrets was taking the road north that day. But the damage was done, and there was no use longing for a path God had not chosen for you.

Something awaited you in the north—something that would lead you back home. You felt it deep within you; you were destined for something greater. And so, you forgave your knight. It was easy—he had been a constant presence in your life, a father figure in all but name. At the very least, you loved him as one.

Your own father had played little role in your life, too preoccupied with his sons, leaving his daughters to their mother’s care. In the space your father had neglected, Ser John had taken root, becoming the guiding hand you had always needed.  

Now, sitting by the fire he had prepared, you were pulled from your thoughts by the very knight himself. He was adding more wood to the flames, watching you expectantly. When he realized you hadn’t been listening, he let out a slow chuckle.

"I don’t think we’re far now," John repeated, nodding toward the mountains that loomed around you. "The terrain is getting rougher, the air colder, and the people…" He paused, searching for the right word. "Harsher?"

"Their accent is definitely harsher," you replied, pouting slightly as memories filled your mind.

A few days ago, you had stopped in a small village to buy food and warmer clothing, as the temperatures continued to drop the farther north you traveled. It had been a shock to see how little the villagers had—only a handful of shops remained open, and the markets were nearly empty of anything truly nourishing. The cost of war. When you asked the villagers about it, their thick accents had surprised you, making them difficult to understand. Some even spoke a language you had never heard before—those were the ones who eyed you with suspicion.

Even though you had practiced English for most of your life, your strong French accent easily gave you away as a foreigner. The same went for John, though it was even more noticeable—especially since you had been the one teaching him English. He did his best to make himself understood, and so far, it had worked.

You had always taken pride in your ability to learn English quickly, but as you crossed the borders between England and Scotland, you realized your English had been very much capital-based—suited for understanding royalty and the so-called 'enlightened' people, but not the villagers of the northern kingdom.

They had mocked you in their own tongue, speaking slowly in English as if you were a child. It had been humiliating—no one had ever treated you this way. If they had, your father would have had them imprisoned. But that time was long gone. You were no longer a princess, just a simple Frenchwoman lost on the roads of Scotland. That was how they saw you—nothing more.

Shaking off the embarrassment, you looked up at your companion. His small smile told you he knew exactly what was on your mind. That only made you press your lips together in annoyance. You might have lost your titles while being on the run, but you certainly hadn’t lost the attitude that came with them.

Being on the road, you had grown accustomed to sleeping outside—and, surprisingly, you had come to love it. You took pleasure in admiring the night sky, scattered with countless stars. It was a sight you had once taken for granted back home, but after everything you had endured, you had learned to appreciate the little things. The night skies, the sunrises, the small kindnesses of villagers, the softness of animal furs—every tiny detail that once seemed trivial now felt like a gift from God, a reminder that you were still alive.

And so, without saying a word back to John, you settled for the night. The air was cool, but it was still manageable. You dreaded the first day of winters that approached quickly, you prayed you'd find those clans rather quickly, not really wanting to freeze to death after escaping it all those months ago. 

Once again, your night was plagued by nightmares—dreadful echoes of that day, imprinted in your mind, twisting and distorting your dreams. And like most nights, you woke in the dead of night. 

It had become routine—rising from restless sleep, your heart pounding from lingering nightmares. Most of the time, you would get up, seeking solace in the quiet presence of your horse, Espoir. It meant hope, and you thought it suited her perfectly. Her steady breaths and the warmth of her soft fur soothed your frayed nerves, grounding you in the present. Only then would you settle back down beside her, hoping for a few more hours of peace.

Tonight, however, you were startled to hear a voice as your nightmare jolted you awake. A voice you didn’t recognize, speaking in a language unfamiliar to you.

"That’s a very pretty horse. You’re a good girl, aren’t you?" the stranger murmured.

How had this not woken Ser John? You knew him to be a light sleeper. In the early days of your escape, he had always stirred at your restless nights, waking to soothe you through your panic. After a few weeks, you had told him not to trouble himself—that you could handle it on your own. It wasn’t out of shame, but guilt; you couldn’t bear to deprive him of sleep.

He had listened, though you knew he still watched over you. Sometimes, you would catch him observing from a distance as you stood beside the horse in the moonlight. He still woke when you did, if only to make sure you were all right before allowing himself to drift back to sleep.

Had the man killed him? Was that why Ser John hadn’t woken to attack?

Fear settled deep in your bones, your breathing quickening as you fought to stay silent, not daring to make a sound that might reveal you were awake. If this man had wanted you dead, surely he would have done it already.

Unless… he was toying with you, waiting for you to awaken to the sight of your knight slaughtered. Your mind raced with the most dreadful possibilities, imagining the vile things the stranger might do to your defenseless body. A wave of nausea rolled over you, and you had to physically restrain yourself from emptying your stomach right then and there.

"Don't bother, Knight. I know you're awake," the stranger’s voice called out, louder this time. It was directed at you. You still didn’t understand the words, but you knew, without a doubt, that this time he was speaking with intent—waiting for you to respond.

As if a flash of lucidity passed over the stranger, he spoke again, this time in words you could understand. "I’ve taken yer sword, and I see ye've gone for yer dagger. But dinnae fool yerself, knight—ye’ll no’ be winnin’ this fight."

His thick accent made it difficult to decipher his words, but one thing was clear—Ser John was still alive. The stranger hadn’t been speaking to you all this time, but to your knight.

Slowly opening your eyes, you were met with the sight of a rough-looking man, crouched by the horse. His hair was oddly cut, with a longer tuft running down the middle while the rest was cropped short. His body was massive—broad like a soldier’s, yet hardened like a laborer’s. He was dressed strangely, his clothing covered in tartan, likely the symbol of his clan. 

John had once told you Highlanders were easy to spot, and he hadn’t been wrong. 

He was wearing a skirt. You were sure that wasn’t the proper name for it, but to you, it looked the same all the way. It exposed his muscular hairy thighs—you had never seen a man like him before. 

He was as fascinating as he was terrifying.

"We 'ave nothing to offer you, Highlander," Ser John said, his French accent thick as he broke the heavy silence surrounding your small camp. His heavy accent was a stark contrast to the stranger's fluent English.

You heard movement behind you—John had sat up. You could almost feel the tension crackling in the air as the two men sized each other up. Watching the Highlander, you couldn't deny the sheer strength he exuded. If he was even half the soldier Ser John was, his sheer size alone might give him the upper hand in a fight.

"Nothin' tae offer me, aye?" the stranger mocked. "Then how come ye’ve been skulkin’ aboot the villages, askin’ after the Highlands?" His tone was edged with caution. His sharp gaze flickered to you, and he raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. It was his way of letting you know he was well aware you were awake.

John had been asking around about the Highlands? He never told you that. So much for being careful and discreet. He had led one of them straight to you, and even though the stranger didn’t seem threatening for now, you wouldn’t put it past him to eliminate anything he perceived as a threat to his people.

Sitting up, you noticed the wary way your knight was watching the stranger. He had told the truth—John's  sword lay beside the horse, just a few centimeters from the intruder. Yet the man seemed unbothered, still gently stroking the sleeping horse as if he had all the time in the world. You had always believed animals sensed things humans could not, and Espoir's calm demeanor eased your nerves—if only slightly.

"We are… how you say… survivors of the Wedding Massacre," John said quietly, his gaze never leaving the stranger. He did not look at you, his focus locked onto the man before him. "We ‘ave come all this way for ‘elp. I was told the Highlanders, they bow to no crown."

Your breath hitched as panic surged through you. He had chosen to reveal the truth. You knew it was part of his code of honor—John saw the stranger as another warrior, a brother forged in battle, and to him, that meant lies had no place here. But why he had placed his trust so quickly, you didn’t know. All you could do was pray he hadn't been wrong.

"We've nae king, that much is true," the stranger said calmly. "But if she is who I think she is, then ye serve a crown we dinnae answer to either."

"The enemy of my enemy is my friend, no?" John said quickly. When the stranger only shrugged, he pushed on. "The French kingdom... they would owe you much, you and your clan, if you make safe passage for her."

At those words, the stranger let out a scoff. He turned his head toward you once more, his entire body so relaxed it was almost unsettling. The soft glow of the dying fire cast shadows across his rugged features, highlighting the harsh angles of his face—a perfect match for his powerful frame. His beard was well-trimmed, and though he appeared clean, there was something in his eyes, something raw and untamed. A primal edge that sent a shiver down your spine, like a predator watching its prey, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

"I dinnae speak for me clan, Knight," he said, his gaze drifting back to the sleeping horse.

You had never been one for politics, but you were quite certain this was not how deals were supposed to be made. Not in the dead of night, and certainly not between a knight and a man who barely looked older than twenty-five.

The stranger's entire demeanor was unusual. Calm and cocky—two words that set your nerves on edge. His relaxed confidence felt almost deliberate, as if he were toying with you both. You stole a glance at your knight, searching for reassurance. Though outwardly composed, you could see the subtle signs of his discomfort—signs only someone who knew him well would notice. To the stranger, however, Ser John likely appeared as if he were merely weighing his next words.

Ser John was about to speak again, when he was interrupted by the stranger. 

"I can take ye to them, if that's truly what ye want," he offered, a faint smile playing on his lips. His eyes flickered to you once more before settling on the knight beside you.

"Will they hurt us?" your knight asked bluntly. He had realized the stranger was playing a game, but for what purpose, he did not yet know.

The stranger’s only response was a slow, knowing smirk and a casual shrug. He was toying with the knight, taunting him, daring him to take the risk of trusting a stranger. His entire demeanor oozed confidence, as if he held all the power in this exchange—like he was enjoying watching Ser John wrestle with the decision. 

Once again, his eyes landed on you, and that primal glint flickered back to life. There was something unsettling—almost intoxicating—about the way he watched you, sending a shiver down your spine. It made you want to press your thighs together, though you couldn’t quite understand why. It wasn’t just his gaze; it was the way he carried himself, the effortless confidence, the quiet danger in his smirk. He looked at you like a predator sizing up its prey—like he wanted to devour you whole.

No one had ever looked at you this way before—it was utterly improper. And judging by the way Ser John cleared his throat, he didn’t appreciate it either. When the stranger didn’t immediately turn his gaze, your knight had to clear his throat a second time, more forcefully, finally drawing the man’s attention back to him.

It was only then that you realized your palms were damp with sweat. Rubbing them discreetly against your trousers, you tried to steady yourself. He made you nervous—unsettlingly so. You told yourself it was fear, the instinctive wariness of a potential threat. But deep down, a part of you knew there was another reason.

When you looked back at your knight, he was watching you intently, a silent question in his eyes. What other choice did you have? You had spent months on the road searching for exactly what the stranger was now offering.

Letting out a quiet sigh, you gave a small, hesitant nod.

Nodding at the stranger, your knight extended his hand. "Ser John Price," he introduced himself before gesturing toward you and stating your name.

"Johnny Mactavish," the stranger replied, clasping John's hand firmly in his own. "Ye and the bana-phrionnsa best get some more rest—the night's still young for strangers tae be crossin' these lands."

With those words, he settled himself by the fire as if he had always been part of the journey. 

Crossing his legs, the only thing shielding his modesty was the plaid of his skirt. Despite yourself, your eyes were drawn to his thighs—thick, powerful, unlike anything you had ever seen before. Truth be told, you had never truly looked at a man’s thighs in the flesh. But even without comparison, you could say with confidence that Johnny Mactavish was strong—ungodly so. 

Forcing your gaze away, you turned to Ser John. Confusion clouded his face as he watched the stranger warily. There was something unsettling about Johnny’s ease—how he settled in as if he had always been there, as if he knew exactly how much power he held over you both. And in truth, he did. Neither you nor your knight had any idea how to find the clans that could help you. He had appeared like a mirage, not exactly offering help, but rather a passage to an uncertain future.

Nodding discreetly, your knight motioned for you to come closer. You attempted to move subtly, shifting as if merely trying to find a more comfortable position. But the Scot saw right through it, letting out a low chuckle at your feeble attempt. His eyes tracked your every movement, not with suspicion, but with something else entirely.

"What is wrong with him?" you whispered to your knight in French, ensuring the Highlander remained unaware of your words.

John let out a weary sigh, his grip gentle yet firm as he pulled you closer. "He is Scottish, your Highness. I have heard that is simply the way they are." His voice was laced with both exasperation and caution, making it clear he was just as unsettled by the stranger’s demeanor as you were.

"You'd both be lyin' in a pool o' yer own blood if I wanted ye dead, ye ken that?" Johnny said casually, a grin tugging at his lips as he laughed through his words.

You let out a small gasp at his gruesome remark, muttering under your breath, "Savages," as you finally settled down, though the tension in your body remained. Clearly amused, he let out another quiet laugh, the sound low and rough in the stillness of the night.

"Should we thank you, then?" John retorted, clearly growing tired of the Highlander's smug demeanor.

Johnny merely smirked. "Naw, just sayin’." His hands hovered over the fire, strangely close to the flames, as if the heat didn’t bother him in the slightest. 

The flickering light reflected off the rings adorning his fingers, casting glimmers against his rough skin as his fingers danced idly above the flames.

[homelandersbitch]

⏝⠀† ݁ ⠀ ⏝∔⏝ ⠀ ݁ †⠀⏝ ݁ †⠀⏝

—➤ BE A DOLL . ₊ ⊹ 18 + Homelander x fan + Chubby ! Fem ! Virgin ! Reader . ONESHOT (?)

𓈒 ♰ ˖ NSFW . . 18+ WARNING FOR EXTREME SEX + VULGAR LANGUAGE + SPICY TIME WITH HOMELANDER .

𖤐reader key : 𖤐

Y/n - your name

Y/h/c - your hair color

Y/s/k - your skin color

Y/e/c - your eye color

Author note : this is a warm up practice once shot for me coming back and writing more , if this reaches 100 likes and 50 reblogs ill make it one of my homelander x reader series. ♡

Warning banners are not mine I will link them all in pinned post ♡.

⋆⋅Dni if the following kinks make you uncomfortable. ⋅⋆

Daddy kink , choking , pain , worship , ownership , God complex , marking , biting , cum play , slapping , con - non con , taking of virginity .

And from here our story continues.

Meeting Homelander was like a dream come true for y/n . She had always wished to meet Homelander and even had some of his merch and cosplayed as him for Halloween and won the costume contest for her collage but today she was finally going to one of his meet and greats and she couldn't wait for this moment to come faster . Y/n had gotten herself dressed in a black and red dress with black knee high heels on before she got her make done , classic black eyeliner and red lipstick combination that matched her y/s/t perfectly as well as fixing her jewelry before she grabbed her purse and headed out the door and straight to the vaught event .

Soon she arrived at the vaught meeting as she took a glance around and looked around as she saw fans all over her wearing merch from starlight to the deep and noir as she smiled to herself , finally she was home at last . She had on her homelander jacket over her dress as she hummed to herself as she walked twords his table , most of the other girls she saw going to the homelander area as well definitely were skinner and much better looking in her opinion compared to herself but she had been self conscious about herself but she tried to ignore the thoughts as she hurried herself about.

Once she got over to booth there he was , the one and only homelander , God was y/n in love with the God like man , he just made her feel like she could trust him and he would be there for here even if they didn't know each other . Y/n stepped closer to the booth as a girl then tapped her shoulders " You better not be one of those ' lovesick yandere crazy ' fat chick's or else I'll end you . Homelander will be in love with me ." Y/n stared at the obviously crazy one . " nah..I'm just a big fan , I don't think he'd even be in love with me so...-" " Good . You better not be ." The crazy girl interrupted as she then walked away from her and up to the table as well .

Y/n waited her turn in line , looking around as she saw ashley ushering people alonge and bring water to starlight and atrain and often getting into a fight with starlight about something stormfront had said about her online , the security guard said " Next ." And she was up next , taking a breath y/n walked up and was greated with a kind but tired smile from home lander . " Hello there , and what's your name pretty lady." He said , y/n couldn't help but blush and be speechless but quickly she caught her voice . " Y-Y/n , it's very nice to meet you sir...you're my idol ."

Homelander stared at her as he then smiled sweetly . " That's very nice , I'm glad I could inspire you . Hopefully in good ways of course ." He chuckled as ashley walked over to him in a hurry . " Homelander I need to speak with you , emergency right now. " homelander then looked at her slightly annoyed , he was actually enjoying meeting y/n and didn't want the conversations to end just yet . " But I just started talking with her come on ashley. " ashley sighed in annoyance. " Sir ... its serious ." Homelander sighed and turned back to y/n. " I don't want to cut out meeting short , but as this is important and needs my attention . Why don't you wait in my office . I can meet with you after and we can have a private meet and great . Yeah?" Y/n was in shock that this was happening but quickly she nodded her head as ashley stared at homelander with confusion but then looked at her .

" I guess ..follow me then ?" Ashley then showed y/n the way to the seven tower and y/n couldn't help but be excited , she gets a private meeting with homelander ? This has to be a dream and now is the time she wakes up as she pinched her hand softly and slightly winced , nope . Not a dream .

Once her and ashley got into the tower ashley took her up to homelanders grand office where she gasped at the size and how nice it was and how it smelled just like him and she loved it , now sitting in one of the chairs ashley sat a ' Liquid Death , The Deep ' version of the sparkling water and a tray of cookies " Complements of homelander , welcome to the tower lucky lady. " ashley said as she walked out , closing the door as y/n happily took a bite of one of the cookies as she looked around homelanders office .

Soon enough, the man of the hour opened the door and shut it quickly as he locked the door with a sigh . " I'm sorry about that, sweetheart . Someone, I guess, is being a little bit of what do you say.. ' a hater ' and is tweeting for people to start anti homelander and vaught riots over the city... I swear.. People really are foolish . Now then where were we.." homelander said now walker over to y/n as you sat up in your seat as homelander than sat on his desk infront of her as she involuntarily looked up and down his body . Those abs showed through his suit , his perfect hair , the way his skin practically glowed in the sunlight just perfect .

" Would you maybe ... want to do me a favor, hon ? " She quickly looked at his face as he stared at hers and scanned it , his blue eyes scanning her y/e/c ones as you spoke " Yes , homelander , what is it ?" He chuckled as he took a step closer to her . " Be a doll , and suck my cock..please I need it after this fucking day I have , and all the stupid blonde bitches begging me to fuck them when I'm not attracted to them at all , but you...you've caught my eye all day pretty girl . "

He awaited her her response and happily she complied and gave him a nod " Yes sir...I will suck you off . " his lips curved into a devious smirk as he chuckled and fully got his suit off as he pulled his throbbing cock out . " Good girl , open up. " he then shoved his throbbing cock into her mouth as she gasped slightly but took his large length into her mouth as she gagged and sucked on him as he thrusted into her mouth and groaned out at the feeling of y/n sucking and deep throating his thick cock .

" Fuck..you're going to..make me bust.. y-y/n fuck..." Homelander grunted out as she sucked on his cock and kissed on his tip as she wanted to be a bit of a tease . " Call me your fucking daddy , slut . Worship my cock like the god i am.." he moaned out as y/n gulped but spoke " You're a god homelander , I want you to fuck me and make me swallow your load all night long daddy .."

Homelander grunted as he felt himself getting closer as he grabbed a hand full of her hair and shoved his cock down her throat as he moaned out softly as he shoved her head up and down on his cock as it throbbed in her mouth " Suck it ..you fucking slut..I own you .." he slapped her head softly as she gasped but loved the feeling of him being aggressive and dominate with her . His cock throbbed more as he soon let out a deep groan . " I'm gonna ..." before he could finish a thick , creamy load shot down her throat as he groaned out as he kept himself in her mouth as y/n began to lick him clean .

" Good job...girl but we're not done just yet..." Homelander pulled himself out of her mouth as he then lifted up y/n's dress and noticed that her panties were soaked and yes all from this , he chuckled as he quickly ripped off her panties as he licked her dripping and wet cunt , chuckling . " all wet for your god already , aren't you .? I like that . " he chuckled before he sat onto his desk again and pulled y/n onto his length as she moaned out .

Y/n didn't have to tell homelander this is what she wanted , he knew and she knew that she wanted him since they locked eyes at the booth and he finally was getting want they both wanted , homelander trusted up into y/n as she moaned out his name as she felt his cock hitting her walls as he chuckled and placed his hands on her belly as he squeezed softly . " God you're so perfect...I love feeling you against my finger pretty girl..chubby girls are my go too. " he moaned out softly and growled as he thrusted into her and used her dumb and tight cunt , he could smell she was a virgin and god it felt good to take that away from her and claim her sweet pussy as his .

" Mmm get ready pretty girl ..." he growled into her ear as he moved a hand to her throat as he began to choke her . Y/n gasped as she felt herself climax around him as she moaned out loudly as she squirted over his cock . He continued to thrust up inside of her until he began to cum and fill her up nice and full of his cum as he groaned out in pleasure . Keeping himself inside of her as he rubbed over his bulge in her stomach , chuckling . " You are definitely my little toy , I like you already y/n . "

Homelander chuckled softly in her ear as he kissed on her hair , as he hummed a bit before taking himself out of y/n , cum dripped down her thighs as he then got himself up and grabbed a towel from his shelf and handed it to her. " Clean yourself up and we can have that... ' meet and great ' now . "

The end .

⏝⠀† ݁ ⠀ ⏝∔⏝ ⠀ ݁ †⠀⏝ ݁ †⠀⏝

[yanderejustforyou]

Short and Sweet

Playlist

Day 1 - Baking || Vanilla, sprinkles, and chocolate-flavored kissesPairing: Katsuki Bakugo x Reader

Day 2 - Frozen Lake || Cold hands, Scarves, and Snow Pairing: Katsuki Bakugo x Reader

Day 3 - Hot Chocolate || Marshmallows, Warm Hands, and Soft Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Harry Potter

Day 4 - Cozy Cabin || Patterned Rugs, Soft Blankets, and Warm Baths Draco x harry

Day 5 - Fire Places || Fuzzy Socks, Soft Rugs, and Hands IntertwinedPairing: Joker x Reader

Day 6 fort - peter parker x reader

day 7 Catching a cold || Tissues, savory soup, and cuddles Sofia Falcone X reader

Day 8 - Snowed In || Candles, Snow Drifts, and Quiet Pairing: Submissive Yandere Jock Izuku Midoriya x Reader

Day 9 sledding - Kuroo x reader

Day 10 Winter Market || Murmuring Crowds, Rows of Stalls, and the Smell of Food Pairing: Kuroo Tetsurou x Reader

Day 11 Snowball Fight || Heavy Breathing, Footprints in the Snow, and Warm Hugs Pairing: Jason Todd x Bruce Wayne

Day 12 - Lonely || Gloomy skies, soft blankets, and a warm fire Pairing: Dean Winchester x Sam Winchester

Day 13: Snuggle / Book / There Was Only One Bed Fandom:The Penguin (2024) Pairing: Victor Aguilar x Oswald Cobb

Day 14: Mistletoe / Hands / Fake Dating Fandom:The Penguin (2024) Pairing: Victor Aguilar x Oswald Cobb

Day 15: “Seriously, I told you that you would get sick going out like that.” Fandom:The Penguin (2024) Pairing: Oswald Cobb x Victor Aguilar x Reader

Day 16: “What do you mean you don’t want to go sledding?” Fandom:The Penguin (2024) Pairing: Sofia Falcone x Reader

Day 17: Cookies / Mug / Love At First Sight Fandom:Supernatural Pairing: Sam Winchester x Dean Winchester

Day 18: Soup / Memories / Next Door Neighbor Fandom:My Hero Academia Pairing: Katsuki Bakugo x Shy Izuku Midoriya

Day 19: Cider / Moon / Matchmaker / Matchmaking Gone Wrong Fandom:My Hero Academia Pairing: Dabi x Reader

Day 20: Shiver / Warm / Old Enemies Fandom:My Hero Academia Pairing: Yandere Katsuki Bakugou x Chubby Reader

Day 21: Merry / Explore / Save Me From a Bad Date Fandom: My Hero Academia Pairing: Shoto Todoroki x Female Reader

Day 22: "No more holiday movies. Please." Fandom: My Hero Academia Pairing: Kirishima x Reader

Day 23: "Your hands are freezing!" Fandom: My Hero Academia Pairing: Mezou Shouji x Reader

Day 24: "What are you doing with that mistletoe– oh." Fandom: My Hero Academia Pairing: Shoto Todoroki x Reader

Day 25 Home for the Holidays Babygirl 2024 samuel (harris Dickinson x Reader)

Day 26: Sales/ Sparkling/ Opposites Attract Fandom: Babygirl 2024 Pairing: Samuel x Reader

Day 27: "Wait, did you spike the eggnog?" Fandom: Babygirl 2024 Pairing: Samuel x Chubby Reader

Day 28: "Heater/Sunrise/Sleepover" Fandom: The Boys Pairing: Homelander x Hughie

Day 29: "Dance/Fireside/Frozen" Fandom: Babygirl Pairing: Samuel (Harris Dickinson) x Shy Reader

Day 30: "Scarf/Flu/Hurt/Comfort" Fandom: The Boys Pairing: Homelander x Hughie

Day 31: "Midnight/Kiss/Forced Proximity" Fandom: Babygirl 2024 Pairing: Samuel x Reader

Bonus

Day 6 ❄️ Present ❄️ Making a new Christmas tradition - blood play = dean x sam

Day 3 ❄️ Accelerated heartbeat - Izuku x Katsuki

[plasticfangtastic]

American Royalty. Ch. 7

A Homelander X F! Reader/dadlander fanfic

A/N: if ya like to be included in the taglist plz leave a request comment, prev. chapters can be found in my pin post and the link below... i'll be updating my pin post after chapter 8 or 9 so they're not so scattered-- thanks to all readers hope y'all like it. I have officially finished writing this story so I should be posting them more regularly.

tags: mild gore, angst, slow burn, fluff, OC characther, child neglect, dadlander, romance, toxic relationship... a bit of spicy in this chapter.

Chapter Seven

Sharp.

One of the men who looked to be a scientist– and who seemed completely detached from the situation, caught your attention.

“The V. Homelander.” he said, hiding his irritation poorly.

“The kid returned them to me. I left them at the gymnasium. Dropped some. The matter is sorted.” He spat, not giving him a second look, his gaze solely focused on you.

The man swallowed heavily slowly turning towards you, as you stared blankly back at him you noticed the chubby man had been carrying your daughter's sparkly backpack.

“Your daughter. I need to speak to her.” He said hastily.

“You don’t need to” Homelander blocked his vision, standing between you two enraged that he wouldn’t leave you alone.

“Is… Is okay…” Your hands were shaking as you pushed him out the way– my daughter did something really wrong…” You turned to Nigel, your voice wavering as you tried to muster the courage to speak– I am so sorry… I… I’m sorry” You choked.

You had no choice but to take her out of Vought, you knew you could never dream of paying off whatever damages your daughter had incurred on your name, V had to cost a couple hundred-thousands to millions if you had to take a guess, and whatever strange feelings you had a second ago were buried deep with the violent onslaught of anxiety assaulting you– you knew you would be back on the streets if not in jail by the end of the week.

You clutched at your hands feeling your whole body trembling, a sudden jolt traversing across your body as Homelander wrapped an arm across your shoulders trying to contain your relentless shivering, his far away voice told you to take a deep breath, whispering to you words that your ears didn’t quite catch, patiently instructing you to tranquilize to no avail.

“Your daughter, she wrote this.”

The man mustered all his bravery to take a notepad out of her backpack and approach you with it not caring that Homelander was holding you posessively, you looked up towards the item, taking it in your hand– lots of formulas and calculations, her handwriting blocky and messy, but every page was filled with more and more things that you could frankly not decipher– it might as well been hieroglyphics.

“Sorry I don’t understand this.” You were hesitant to hand it back.

“Your daughter managed to do this!.” He went to a particular page of the pad, flicking it in your hands– this… this is a revised version of a new product we had been developing… a new version of V… Your daughter is not in trouble… quite the opposite we would like to extend an olive branch– am so sorry security handled this so poorly.”

Both you and Homelander had matching expressions, both confused as to these sudden changes.

Nigel gasped in relief as Elmo came running towards his father dragging Helena behind him. The man could have hit the child if you weren’t there, he took his son in one swift sweep, holding him tight trying not to sound upset as he kissed him, looking down to find Helena panting behind, the kid hugged his father but didn’t cry–  simply turning to see if Helena was still there.

“Don’t look at me like that.” She replied before the kid rolled his eyes– those guns were loaded y’know.”

“Won’t hurt me” The kid muttered– hurt you lots tho.”

She scoffed and rolled her eyes, before finally acknowledging your existence. Peeking at the mess around her and the decapitated head on the other end of the hallway that Elmo completely ignored, she bit her cheek letting a loud ‘Tch’ spit out.

“Before you scream at me– The chump had nothing to do with it, I simply asked for his services in exchange for candy. Second…” A bubble pop above her hand dropping a half-used vial of Compound V– here” She threw at the scientist.

“Is almost empty!”

“I used it, duh” She wasn’t apologetic in the least– now you can scream at me.” she gestures to you to procceed.

You dropped on your knees pulling her into your arms in a vicious and desperate embrace, your heart beating so hard she could feel it thumping against her white sweater, you tried not looking at the empty stare of the decapitated head on the other side of the hall… it was your fault that man had died, you thought. Yet you were glad Homelander had killed him. Glad he had done one right thing for her.

“You have a lot of explaining to do.” Homelander said without actually caring, he was glad to see her unharmed, seeking for any scuff marks or bruises with his X-Ray vision.

Your daughter looked at the scientist then at her belongings.

“I fixed it… your C.V24… in theory of course. Technically you were on the right track with V25 but my formula should reduce the side effects by 76% percent not 67%… would be down to 85% if I had more time.” She strokes your back in circular motions to fake reassurance– sorry for acting like a kid… I did a stupid.”

The man clenched his jaw then looked back at the notes, the formula in theory could be the pathway to finding a solution to all their troubles, Homelander mouth dropping in disbelief.

“What do you mean you fixed it?” He asked.

“Your original formula is a death trap… a shit dilution of V– all bark no bite… your stabilizing was the issue… V is a beast with a mind of its own… even your current serum is a mess… you could even program it to dictate a power if your men used their brains for once– so I decided to do that… now Elmo can fly.”

Nigel's eyes widened.

“You… You experimented on your friend?” You asked, your voice scratchy and hoarse.

Your daughter's eyes blip blue as she gives you a discomforting smile, you didn’t know if you should hold her or take a step away.

“I was thinking of administering the new serum as a pill or like an LSD sticker.” She wriggled away from you and towards Elmo as his father took a step away from those shimmering blue eyes– show him Elmo.”

Elmo nodded obediently with a light push he wiggled upwards and floated close to the ceiling.

“I was aiming for laser or pyrokinesis but again I only had a couple weeks to come out with the formulas… had I had more time.” she grumbled.

“You gave him V25?” Homelander asked, plucking the kid by the leg down to eye level– how…?”

“Nah I gave him my new V serum… I gave it to him like two hours ago… I was working on the V.C 26 on paper but I was messing with V… altho if the mices I worked with are any indication– he might still explode in three hours give or take”

Her nonchalant tone was matched by a small kid who seemed far too exhausted with her, Elmo dropped to the ground. Homelander was mostly in awe that the kid could fly after only two hours and based on her heartbeat she wasn’t telling the truth entirely, but he kept it to himself for the moment.

“He could explode! You could’ve killed him already!” The scientist spoke on your behalf looking at the child horrified.

“Maybe you should’ve kept him in the labs instead of dragging us here… bit rich for you to care considering you experiment on people all the time without their consent…. Sage Grove, Elmira… Godolkin… should I keep going? Great timing to grow a conscience, clown.” 

She took her bag off his hands, and her pad.

“Left you a sample if you'd like to test it out… hope you copied it because I ain’t giving it to you for free”

“That’s Vought property!” He tried taking the notepad from her hand, she jumped back lifting her chin for a thick invisible wall to divide the space– you little–

An invisible force maneuvers him flat against the wall, his cheeks pressed comically against the translucent sheet.

“Am I in trouble?” She looked at her father.

“Can you squeeze him flat?” He asked, looking curiously at the scene.

“Can hold back a thousand gallons… what do you think?” 

“Let him go. Get the kid under observation and let’s see what this nerd wants.” He said with a jovial tone.

It was like a scene of a bad movie, you were simply forced to watch as they both bonded over their mutual awfulness– the rest of the evening became a blur, your body had moved but you weren’t piloting it, sounds measly echoes as you followed them around, occasionally catching Nigel and now presumably his husband Sven talking as he had joined the party by the time you noticed you had arrived in the labs… unsure when/how you got here.

Your body observed as Helena dragged the scientist and now a small posse of coated men to discuss her work, you left to sit alone in one of the rooms.

The lights were low, and at some stage Homelander had come in– it was painfully silent until he arrived, but you were just there, half-alive.

“What are you looking at?” Homelander said in a hushed voice as he touched you with a naked hand– can you tell me?”

“There’s a scratch on that metal panel” your voice is so quiet it scares him slightly.

His hand was so light on your shoulder, as if it was hovering instead of being there, he took a chair and pushed it to your side, you both sat together as you scrunched up his cape once he offered you the tip, your hands unconsciously picking up the fabric– the texture like thick culderog.

“We took the kid to Disneyland then the kid acted like they were at Disneyland and we got upset about it.” He said, Homelander’s hand atop of yours as you fidgeted– is okay, daddy has taken care of it, you are not in trouble, baby.” his voice was slightly mocking but it was trying to crack a bad joke– not to insult you.

He leaned against you, feeling the sharp metal edges of his eagles against your shoulders. You started to blink harshly trying to push away the fog with this discomfort, his arm on your hip as he rested his chin atop of your head– he was pulling you into a side-hug, meeting no resistance to his surprise.

“You don’t have to worry 'bout anything.” His voice is warm– am a hero, remember?”

“That kid is going to die…” you whimpered.

“Elmo Cripple is perfectly fine.”

“She didn’t care.” Your voice, starting to crack once again.

“She’s a very confident young lady.” he grimaces– a tad too confident if I say so myself… but you should hear her talking to those guys right now, is incre— I have no idea what she’s saying.”

“Welcome to my life” You nuzzled yourself against him, he was so warm, you could remember the heat– I… I don’t know what I am going to do with her?” You sobbed lightly.

“Let her pursue her dreams while supervised so we don’t have to deal with potential murder charges.”

He tried to make you laugh with his tone but all you could muster was staring back at him with a furrowed brow, your tears staining your cheeks already.

“‘Phantasma and Poltergeist’ I don’t how I feel about our kid being in a team-up… even if the competition isn’t steep– It’ll get difficult as she gets older but then again I don’t want Ryan to compete directly with her for the spotlight, its two different markets with completely different appeals.”

“I don’t want to talk about her being a superhero when we haven’t even handled this…” you said, holding back a sob, trying to clean your face against him.

“... ‘we’?” His hands gave your side a squeeze as his other took your hands more gently making sure to rub your dried knuckles– I think we can handle this, Y/N… we can keep a short leash on her… from now on– rely on me… you deserve that."

Staring back at her happily explaining her process, enjoying seeing the group of Phds feelings of inferiority coloring their faces, it was obvious that she shouldn’t even be in the 10th grade, simply staying behind for your well-being, but just how big was her IQ– how much more smarter was she? 

Homelander wanted to see his bouquet of peonies set as the centerpiece she was meant to be, to let her shine as she deserved.

You pulled on his wrist wanting to be held more, it didn’t matter if it was your shitty ex-boyfriend or not, you wanted affectioness, longing for empathy and gentleness.

You already had been kissing– in public no less! He had plans of holding you hostage until you agreed to play house with him, Homelander already testing the waters by making your children play together. Maybe it was your survival mechanism ill-timing but your mind desperately demanded a distraction, your lips were still able to taste peppermint, so your mind wandered south– possibly because that golden belt buckle was perfectly in your sight.

Frankly the last time you had a date was when Helena was five, they were cute, visited Lucci a couple times before asking for your number, the dates were great and the last time you had sex was with this guy before he dumped you, you thought they’ve potential and your wrist had taken enough abuse over the years– if anything you had given up your womanhood, too tired and focused with rearing lil’ Einstein to notice your needs, sleeping with this cutie wasn’t terrible but the moment the word “Freak” was uttered in reference to your kid– you were throwing their shit out the window. 

For the first time since she was born you found yourself not alone and supported, your friends had seen you like you carrier of pestilence affecting their jobs by virtue of association, your inability to find employment quickly burdened your friends and relatives, your family and yourself had not seen eye-to-eye for years, your relationship cracking deep enough to touch the abyss once you came home pregnant with no man behind you, then it was out the door after a couple weeks, even the kid didn’t appease them later down the track.

Could he really be relied on? Money was but a gesture of good will– covering for your kid for stealing maybe millions of dollars of god’s own spunk, and potentially getting your daughter acquitted for murder. Now that might be worth a blowie.

And he hurt your jaw quite graciously.

You looked up straight into his face, he had been talking for god knows how long without you noticing, and took his face.

Tasting like spearmint and iron, he was hesitant at first unsure if the timing was good but quickly relented as your tongue got more demanding, his hands now had no clue where to sit or what to touch but he let you take the lead. 

You tousled and pulled on his hair, wanting to get him close to you, to feel something good from him for once.

He pushed you lightly as he heard your daughter's steps encroaching, he stood up with a light blush on his ears as he pointed at the door, you looked up wanting to say something but there she was with a big grin on her face and her chest bouncing with excitement.

“You proud of yourself?” Did you ask her or yourself, there?-- If your friend dies…”

“Elmo won’t die… not on a microdose of V. for fuck sakes this company sold diluted V for a G-Fuel collab!”

“You say that but you had never actually worked with V until now! Do you have any idea what you were doing!?”

She looked at the desk nearby, the little GP office setting in this room sort of amusing.

“No. Got a little too eager when I found the playground, it’s sort of a cruel joke for me to be able to make myself invisible, and be in the same building as all of this” She gestured to her surroundings– just because I'm smart doesn’t mean I have the emotional intelligence of an adult to match… So?”

“Do whatever you want Helena… I can’t… I can’t with you… just–

Homelander turned to you, concerned at your tone, it was harsh. Where you giving up on her? He though.

You buried your face beneath your hands, trying to calm down.

“I won’t kill anybody, I'm not interested in that.”

“So what are you interested in?” You argue smacking your back flat on the back of the seat– please enlighten me!?”

“Vought.” Homelander interjects– oh you’re clever…”

He picks her up, poking her nose, there’s an air of comfort in his gesture, as if he always had done so.

“You're a scheming little munchkin.” he squeezes her cheeks jokingly– this isn’t Game of Thrones, darling. Daddy will take care of you”

“You mean the shareholders will take care of me once they realize you can re-open Stan Edgar’s plan to get into the US military… then the police force. Thanks to me.” She gives him a peck on the cheek– but don’t forget I’m not an only child.”

Homelander was blindsided by such a gesture, between you two he was in a tight spot.

Still he was entering heaven as his heart skipped a beat or two, feeling his daughter clung to him, feeling how dangerously light she was, how cute she was, how perfect she was.

Your daughter and yourself stayed silent during that drive home, the radio louder than usual, only when you reached your home did you act, stopping her belt-buckle from coming undone.

“You asked me to play a role in your game without a script– had to improvise.”

“Don’t give me that. You did something horrific Helena! I can't even believe you!” you snapped, your daughter frowned in return as you smacked your palms on the steering wheel– just admit you wanted to do it!”

“I did. I wanted to explore those labs. I like looking at things at Vought– it's stimulating! you want me to get “dad” to love me, no? He loves Vought! I'm just his bastard competing againts the son he’s loved for longer! so I show interest in the one thing he loves other than himself to have an advantage!”

“You went too far!!” you snapped.

“I am not sleeping in a car ever again, Y/N!!” She turned to you with rage in her sight– we are not going back! So you do your thing and I do my thing.”

You let go of her belt buckle.

“You hurt people.” you whispered, pain palpable in your lips, trying to not scream, to not slap her, to stay calm as your daughter heaved angrily, as her eyes glowed intensely.

“I haven’t– Elmo Cripple is alive… so far the only one that’s been hurt is me!!”

She gritted her teeth, the air growing thin inside your old station wagon.

“What is ‘Poltergeist’ getting out of this? He’s not like you.” You didn’t want to argue with her, afraid you would forget she was a child and not a woman– What have you done to him?”

“He’s a dog… don’t worry… he understands I have a vision– I need you to get Homelander to publicly acknowledge me as his daughter.”

Helena hopped off the car slamming the door on her way out.

Your daughter and yourself didn’t speak for the rest of the day, she silently did her thing with only the sounds of the television filling the gap, until bedtime– you sat outside with a cup of hot chocolate in your hands, you glanced at the potted trees and the smooth gray walls of your homely prison, large windows framing your reflection allowing you to catch the blue and red coming down in the glass unsurprisingly.

“You want some hot chocolate?” You asked, lifting your cup.

He looked disgusted at the idea.

“She’s sleeping… I am calling in sick tomorrow… I need a day off…” you muttered as he landed before you, he pushed the metal chair scraping the grass, to take a seat by your side.

“How are you feeling? They will be trying her formula, so she will be there under Dr. Park vigilance… talk about cool after-school activities-- beats being a girl-scout!.” Homelander was clearly not that interested in you tonight– I kept an eye on Poltergeist. All his vital signs are fine.”

You seemed a little relieved.

Gawking at him, his bleached blonde locks, those sharp features and beautiful thin lips, you felt a tingle in your chest.

You wanted to forget about today, to not think of Helena’s actions.

Your smile was sad but he hadn’t noticed.

“Wanna fuck?” You put the cup down with a huff.

Homelander gave you a double take, this was the easiest way to wash away today’s events-- Helena's words creeping back at you... you had to to bind him to you... like this you could rid of these strange sensations simmering within, as you stared at his pretty blue eyes, and his belt, you threw away rationale.

“My battery ran out.”

His nervous smile was cute, you stood up… him still in the chair– turning around once again as you opened the door, inviting him to enter your domain.

Homelander was still so handsome it was infuriating to acknowledge that. Compared to your dull exhausted skin– he was still so fine. It wouldn’t be the worst you’ve done, you missed the attention, and he wanted yours so why not? You scratched your head as he simply stood frozen on the spot, shrugging your shoulders as you closed the door behind– only for his hand to keep it open, his breath ragged and the blush in his cheek matching the faint light of his eyes.

“Are… Are you sure?” he asked nervously.

“John” You tap his chest with your knuckles– take it off.”

Bells rang inside his brain, a shimmering perturbed gaze burning directly at you– a dog awaiting orders.

He followed you into the living room ditching his boots and tights on the way to that terrible couch, he watched you closely as you took a blanket and threw it on the ground alongside the cushions, licking his lip as you took your shirt off revealing your bare breasts.

He was quick to take you into his arms, kissing you intensely, your hands reaching after his neck, fingers harshly caressing his undercut, as he slid down your bottoms.

“You miss me?” His hands were so needy as he bit into your neck leaving trails of hickeys, his tongue savoring that spot where he had marked you as his own, the dents in your skin and the sunken discolored flesh left by his bite mark– it tickles…” 

In the heat of the moment he had bitten you, feasting on your blood as pleasure and pain intertwined, your mind blank as he made love to you, fostering a hatred for mirrors after it all ended, feeling him kiss his signature made you anxious, not wanting to relieve the bitter memories in this moment.

“Mommy…” He whispered as he returned to kiss and lick your neck– "It's been so long, mommy.” he said breathlessly.

“Is been long for me too, my sweet boy.” He moaned into your skin, his maws needy, eager to taste you, his breathless soughs turning you light as he brought you down onto the floor, holding your head as he kissed your neck and ears– you promise to make mommy feel good just like I taught you, baby?” Your voice is sickly sweet making his eyes flare up.

“Can… Can mommy show me again?” His voice gravelly and low as he cupped your chest.

You wedged your legs from under him with a cheeky smile.

“I’ll be extra-thorough then, so pay attention, sweetie.”

He liked that tone in your voice, he liked it even more when you commanded him, how long had it been since you lead him? Too long... too long to bare another moment without it.

Unsurprisingly he had no need for a refresher.

Taglist-- @fromforeigntofamiliarity (hope you had a nice snack for this chapter :), @demodemo909 @immyowndefender

[gatorbites-imagines]

hi !! if you’re cool with it, could we get an inbox check ? /nf ! i was just wondering if tumblr ate my ask. thank you ^__^ !!

hi anon, ive never done an inbox check before but ill try my best, check under the cut 🐊🌈

jason todd x cold hearted assasin male reader

dick grayson x soft dom reader

clone of anakin skywalekr x officer male reader

dick grayson getting eaten out

roronoa zoro and portgas d ace + sounding

moon knight boys x summer-like reader

slashers with a reader whos more out of pocket than they are

yandere mark grayson headcanons

sinister invincible being obsessive/lovesick with top reader

nolan grayson or allen x small but strong reader

rex splode x gnc trans male reader

sukuna x small and chubby ftm reader

mark grayson x john constantine-like reader

immortal x immortal reader

platonic shopping trip with the mauler twins (ftm reader)

nsfw alphabet with mark grayson

more bane x transmasc reader headcanons

homelander reacting to his partners self harm scars

lazy morning sex with roronoa zoro (ftm reader)

mark grayson sparring with his superhero partner

nolan grayson relationship headcanons

[0rah-s]

Is it ok if you do a oliver aiku x black chubby reader friends to lover sorta thing pls🙏

*•° falling for a womanizer?

*•° Poor you...

*•° You're in for a ride.

*•° You both probably where in some shop at the same time and there he saw you for the first time.

*•° He was absolutely smitten.

*•° you were absolutely gorgeous??

*•° In all you form and essence you were perfect.

*•° As you were about to check out your cart, he rushes to you and pays with his contactless before you have the time to process anything.

*•° "?" Was your exact face at that time. But who could blame you - this random (cute) guy rushed half the store to pay for your shopping and was now leaning on the counter with a satisfied smirk.

*•° "May i take this lovey one out?"

*•° Now you posed: this guy payed for your shopping so you could go on a date with him as a thank you, but you didn't ask for him to so he isn't entitled to anything from you.

*•° After 2 second of reflection you came to the conclusion that you'd give him a date *he's cute af why wouldn't you?

*•° You kindly smile at him.

"Sure"

*•° He didn't show it outside but he was overjoyed - the cutest person on earth agreed to go out with him! It's as if he had forgotten that he could have gotten anyone be wanted.

*•° On the date you realised that you had much more in common that expected: you shared similar world views yet had such different perspectives to bring to one another; you liked similar baked goods and restaurants. You both enjoyed the quality conversation so much so that you decided to stay friends.

*•° you quickly lost nicesties and got comfortable with eachother, and got on a first name basis with eachother. He'd lend you his oversised clothing which all coincidentally fit like a glove, and you'd bring him food from your homeland.

*•° You were there for eachother when times mattered and had the healthiest relationship could be.

*•° Until one caught feelings...

*•° He did. And how could he not?

*•° The adoration in his eyes when your skin glowed under the kisses of the sun. The butterfly in his stomach when your lips would form a half crescent when smiling. Just that feeling when you're near him.

*•° But he kept it in, he didn't want to ruin the relationship he had built with you. For the first time he had a genuine friendship with a person he was attracted to, someone so sweet, he couldn't ruin that.

*•° You liked him too, if that wasn't obvious enough.

*•° eons of pining later changes happen...

*•° You start overthinking the relationship, he was sending in so many mixed signal you were beggining to lose yourself. You desided to get it out, regardless of how this will affect your friendship with Oliver, you simply didn't deserve those sleepless night pondering on an answer.

*•° You call him over to your place in a serious tone, you made him anxiously

*•° Then the confession.

*•° ??

*•° His face btw

*•° He couldn't belive you liked him too, its as if the fact that he was a famous, rich and handsome footballer had be ejected out of his mind.

*•° After the happy news, he doesn't waste a second to hold your hand and bring his face close to yours.

*•° Stupid grin plastered on his face.

*•° He laughs in the crook of you neck and hugs your form tight ever so exited at the new stage of your relationship.

*•° You officially got together and wether or not you decided to make it public (taking the risk of beinf desimated by his fans or hated by his ex's) or private, this bundle of flirt will respect his decision.

*•° You're both a great fit for eachother, keep him on earth will you?

[blindmagdalena]

Hello I hope you’re doing well but I do have a quick question, I haven’t been on your blog in like forever but I remember you were/are writing like a 3 part fic of homelander x chubby reader nd I can’t find it

Jst wondering! And again hope you’re doing well!!

hi darling! sounds like it's Guilty Pleasures you're thinking of. 🖤

i'm sorry to everyone who has been waiting for part 3. my mental health hiatus from writing has been entirely unwitting, and i desperately hope to come back from it soon.

[mostlyghoestly]

ANYTHING WITH HOMELANDER PLEASE!!!!!!!

I'm seriously so desperate for him...

I'm just a girl guys, but I WANT THE WALKING RED FLAG

Buy you it all | Homelander

Summary: Homelander is willing to spend anything for you to be happy. Basically Sugar Daddy!Homelander

You never imagined that one day, you’d be living the life of luxury—courtesy of the world's most powerful, and undeniably dangerous, man.

It started innocently enough. A dinner, an invitation that you couldn’t refuse. Homelander had noticed you at some gala, and that was enough. He was intrigued, and you were swept up into his world of decadence, a world that most people could only dream of.

At first, you didn’t understand why he chose you. He had countless admirers, fans, and even a few competitors. But there was something about you that kept drawing him in. Maybe it was your refusal to fawn over him the way most people did, or perhaps it was the genuine smile you gave him—one that didn’t mask fear, but rather curiosity.

“Do you like it?” Homelander asked, standing in the doorway of your apartment, eyes glinting as he surveyed the room. It looked like something out of a high-end magazine—everything tailored perfectly to your taste. Expensive art, top-tier furniture, and every luxury you could imagine. It was all there.

You blinked, still trying to wrap your head around it all. “John, I… This is insane.”

He shrugged, walking over to you, his boots clicking against the polished floors. “What’s the point of being the most powerful man in the world if I can’t spoil someone I care about?”

Your lips parted in surprise. “Care about?”

He smirked, a dangerous, yet alluring look crossing his face. “You heard me. You’re mine now, sweetheart. I’m going to make sure you never want for anything.” A part of you wanted to argue. To tell him that you didn’t need his money or his extravagant gifts. But then you looked at the diamond necklace sparkling around your neck, the designer clothes in your closet, the bottle of rare wine sitting on the counter, and suddenly, you couldn’t bring yourself to complain. You’d never known luxury like this, and it was hard to resist when it felt so intoxicating.

“I didn’t ask for all of this,” you said softly, feeling the weight of the situation settle in. “I’m not some gold-digger.”

Homelander smiled, his voice smooth like velvet. “I know that. But I want to give you everything. You deserve it.”

You swallowed, the intensity of his gaze making your stomach flutter. “But you don’t have to keep doing this,” you protested weakly.

His smile only grew more smug. “Oh, but I do. It’s not just about the money, sweetheart. It’s about making you feel special. About making you feel... powerful.”

You took a step closer to him, trying to maintain some semblance of control. “Powerful? How does buying me a bunch of stuff make me powerful?” John's expression turned serious for a moment, and you could see the intensity in his eyes. “Because I’m giving you a taste of a life most people will never know. And that’s just the beginning. I’ll spoil you with everything, but remember, it’s not just about the gifts. It’s about me. I’m all you need, and you’ll want for nothing as long as I’m around.”

You bit your lip, half in awe of his confidence and half in disbelief that this was your reality now.

“I don’t need everything, John,” you said, your voice quiet but firm.

“Maybe not everything,” he mused, tilting his head. “But I’m going to give you whatever I want, and you’re going to let me. Because, trust me, you’ll never be able to walk away from me once you’ve had a taste of all this.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you found yourself unable to look away from him. His power, his confidence, the way he seemed to know exactly what you needed even when you didn’t understand it yourself… it was intoxicating.

Weeks passed, and it wasn’t just the expensive clothes, or the fancy dinners, or the lavish trips to private islands. No, it was the way Homelander made you feel. The way he made sure you had everything you could ever desire, even if you didn’t ask for it. It was the way he treated you like the most important thing in his world.

It was like you were his world, and he’d created this bubble where nothing and no one could touch you. No one could compete with him. He was your protector, in his own twisted way. And you couldn’t help but feel the pull, the intoxicating mixture of his affection and his control.

One evening, you found yourself at his private penthouse, surrounded by candles and soft music playing in the background. The room was elegant, luxurious—everything Homelander touched turned to gold, it seemed.

“I thought you might like something a little more... personal tonight,” he said, his tone smooth, seductive. He walked over, handing you a small, velvet box. You opened it slowly, revealing a delicate bracelet with a custom engraving that read: “Mine.”

Your eyes widened. “John… I—”

He gently placed his hand under your chin, raising your eyes to meet his. “It’s just a little reminder. I give you everything. And in return, you give me your loyalty. Your trust.”

You could feel your heart pounding in your chest. There was something dangerous, yet irresistible about him. He was the most powerful man on the planet, and he was choosing to give you all of this. Spoiling you. Protecting you.

He wasn’t just buying your affection. No, it was deeper than that. He was tying you to him, with every gift, every word, every lingering touch. “I’ll never need anyone else,” you whispered, the realization hitting you as his lips brushed against your ear, his breath hot against your skin. Homelander’s smirk widened, and his fingers slid into your hair, pulling you closer. “Good. Because no one could ever treat you the way I do.”

[dream-a-little-bit-longer]

Call for beta readers! If you're a homelander fucker and you happen to be trans masc and also super mentally ill I call apon thee!

I've got a fic in the works that needs to be beta read, I already have one beta reader but I need an Xtra one

[adrianasunderworld]

​Housewardens X Chubby!reader

This has been sitting in the drafts for ages. But for all my fellow Plus size Twst fans out there. 

This isn’t light hearted in tone like the Obey Me one, but even so, I hope you enjoy.

Just like with the Obey Me one, I do mention body insecurities concerning weight. 

Riddle

Riddle is the one who has a lot to unpack. With his moms obsessive calorie counting and portion sizing, I wouldn’t be surprised if she had instilled in Riddle the idea the being over the average weight=the worst thing you can be. Riddle may not be rude to your face about it. But you can feel the judgment.

After his Overblot and realizing he was wrong and needing to mellow out a bit, is when he realized how horribly he had misjudged you. If you had been purposefully avoiding him so as not to deal with his bullshit, Riddle will apologize with you the first chance he gets, because who knows when the next chance will be? 

Over all Riddle has come a long way since coming to NRC, and he is your #1 defender. He will not hear any rudeness towards you. It is off with the heads of anyone that wants to make a comment about your weight or anyone else who is also plus size for that matter. 

Leona

In his homeland it’s actually viewed as a good thing to have extra weight. A bit of a hold over from the olden days of famine when people still lived off the land. Caring more weight meant you were taken care of and nowadays it’s a cute trait. So Leona does not mind at all, and has no qualms telling you he likes it.

You will be a pillow for this asshole. If you find him napping somewhere, you will be dragged down and have him lay on your stomach. 

Pretty much all of the guys from the Sunset Savanna are in the same boat as Leona for the as mentioned above reason. So they’re all cool, and if anyone ever bullies you for being plus size, you can call up one of them. 

Azul

Azul is the one that well and truly gets it. When you vent or recount a story about how the store carried nothing in your size. The times you felt the judgmental eyes of others. Or when you had to get off a ride because the seatbelt was a touch too small to buckle. It’s been a few years since Azul had been in your position, but that fat kid he was never truly left him in the back of his mind. Sure some of the other housewardens may be sympathetic, but Azul is the one that really understands how horrible it can all feel.

It’s one of two things with Azul. Either you are someone like him, who is self conscious and wants to loose weight, he’ll help and share tips on what helped him. (For a modest fee of course) On other hand, if you are comfortable and confident in your skin, Azul has a level of respect for you, and even a bit jealous. Your prior surroundings had not been cruel enough to you where you had endure the mockery he did. And if you were bullied for your weight, you didn’t allow it to break you. That quality alone is something Azul admires in you. In a way it makes him wonder how he would have been if his environment had been kinder to him.

Azul will not tolerate anyone who is rude to you for your weight. Even if it doesn't matter to you, it does to him. He’s not projecting, what? You’ll find minor annoyances like that start go away after awhile. If you ever comment on it he’ll simply go, “Oh really? I hadn’t noticed. But it so much nicer without people like that yapping away when they're not wanted?”

Kalim

It has genuinely never occurred to Kalim. Well, not occurred but rather it’s not something he thinks about. Like he knows you're chubby, but he doesn't pay it much mind. If you’re some who is on the shy side, he has a knack for making you comfortable. If you’re more extroverted, you’ll get along with him phenomenally.

Kalim unabashedly adores you. He gives his affection you, whether that be platonic or romantically, without any thought. You’re one of his favorite people. 

If Kalim did have comment about your chubbyness, it is always positive. Boy loves to hug and cuddle you, he loves it. Give him all the snuggles.

Vil

Despite how Vil will diet at at the slightest sign of weight gain, he doesn’t expect that of you, that is just what he puts on himself. Unless you are part of something liek the VDC training camp, Vil will never impose his strict diet or routines onto you if that is not what you want, and you will never hear him comment on it either.

Vil doesn’t really care about you being on the plump side, what he does care about is whether or not you are making any effort. You know he doesn’t take sloppiness. If you tell him you have trouble shopping for your size, Vil will find something. 

Overall, despite being in a very vain industry and the rigid beauty standards he hold himself to, Vil has met many talented and gorgeous people of all shapes and sizes. So he views you in that same regard: Someone wonderful that he cares about dearly.

Idia

Let’s be honest, Idia does not care. If anything you guys are on opposite ends of the spectrum, you’re chubby (and if you’re short too like me, welcome to the club) and then you have this tall lanky mf. If anything Idia wishes he could gain a little weight so he can stop being called a radish sprout. 

 If you and Idia are romantically involved in some way, expect your thighs to be his new obsession. Even if you are not together and it’s just a crush on his part, he’s going to be thinking about it. He would like very much to have to have his head in your lap please. 

Unironically calls you “Thicc AF”. I will let you decide for yourself if that is an endearing quality or not.

Malleus

Like Kalim, Malleus Doesn’t really care nor think about it. Fae don’t really have the same concept of fatphobia or body image issues like humans do. Plus a some very famous fairies are also on the more plump side. Malleus doesn’t really care. If you are self conscious about being chubby or tell him that other people are, this is all news to him. 

But it’s one of those things that, once you bring it to his attention, Malleus finds he likes those qualities about you. Whether that is in general or jsut because they are your traits remains to be seen. But Malleus finds he enjoys holding you, or laying on your stomach, lap, or chest if you will allow it. (Romantically or if you guys are just close like that.) 

If people gave you crap about your weight, you will find that is no longer a  problem, because no one wants the ire of a dragon for bullying his child of man.

[callsigncrash]

Callsigncrash’s Masterlist!

This is just some rules and whatnot for requesting plus my works themselves. Enjoy!

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Tokyo Ghoul

Naki

Yamori and Naki HCs

Small Boyfriend HCs

S/O Feeling Depressed HCs

S/O Drawing on Them

S/O Spoiling Them

S/O Who’s Taller/Protective

Sleepy S/O

Birthday HCs

Moomin HCs

Mimicry HCs

Unorthodox Affections

Drunk/High S/O

Buggin Out

Bloody Lovely

Choreographed Dance HCs

The Profanities Mean I Love You

S/O With Piercings

Deceivingly Strong S/O

Matching Hair HCs

Your Closet is My Closet

OCD HCs

Autistic S/O

NSFW HCs

Nightmares

Anxiety Disorders

Hot Days

Barbie or Oppenheimer

Silk Dancing

CCG S/O

Yamori (Jason)

Oomori HCs

2am Fic

Yamori and Naki HCs

Yamori with a TransMasc!Reader

Small Boyfriend HCs

S/O Feeling Depressed HCs

S/O Drawing on Them

S/O Spoiling Them

S/O Who’s Taller/Protective

Sleepy S/O

Birthday HCs

Moomin HCs

Mimicry HCs

Unorthodox Affections

Romantic Avoidance

Cosmic Darling

“Mother of pink!”

“Can you repeat that?”

Chubby S/O Getting Picked Up HCs

Lasting Experience

Drunk/High S/O

Buggin Out

Bloody Lovely

Choreographed Dance HCs

The Profanities Mean I Love You

Crystalline

Deceivingly Strong S/O

Matching Hair HCs

Your Closet is My Closet

OCD HCs

Autistic S/O

Nightmares

Hot Days

Silk Dancing

CCG S/O

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The Boys

Black Noir

Supe!Reader

S/O Drawing on Them

Birthday HCs

Moomin HCs

Mimicry HCs

Chubby S/O Getting Picked Up HCs

OCD HCs

Barbie or Oppenheimer

Homelander

S/O Drawing on Them

Birthday HCs

Chubby S/O Getting Picked Up HCs

Buggin Out

Deceivingly Strong S/O

OCD HCs

Autistic S/O

Nightmares

Hot Days

Barbie or Oppenheimer

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The Ice Cream Man/Art Brut

Please refer to my other blog @lactoseandsuffering for those.

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Community

Abed

Mimicry HCs

Barbie or Oppenheimer

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It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia

Ben

S/O Drawing on Them

Barbie or Oppenheimer

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Murder, She Wrote

Grady Fletcher

S/O Spoiling Them

Birthday HCs

Deputy Floyd

Jeff Ogden

Woody Perkins

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Mononoke (2007)

Sasaki Hyouei

Unorthodox Affections

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The Exorcist

Father Francis

Father Francis HCs SFW/NSFW

Anxiety Disorders

A Day Off with Father Francis

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Rules!

I try to be pretty lenient but here’s what I have so far.

Requests: Open!

What I won’t write: Weird kinks (i.e “bathroom stuff”, ddlg, and things of that nature), character x character, underage, noncon, and just things that I’m not comfortable with.

What I will write: I can do nsfw, platonic or romantic things, marriage, maybe pregnancy stuff (no birth things), bloody stuff, and just about anything else. I’m not too crazy on restrictions.

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Taglist!

If anyone wants to be tagged on specific fics feel free to ask!

[prismatic-starstuff]

My brain has immediately gone blank uhhhhhh uhhhhhh uhhhhhhhhh it's a tossup between Mohg, Morgott, and Godfrey but I have exactly zero (0) scenarios in the brain rn so go ham with whatever I guess, I love everything you write so no matter what you do it'll be good :D

Warriors.

— gender-neutral!Reader x Godfrey/Hoarah Loux.

The ringing of metal against metal, your greatsword against his axe, is almost loud enough to deafen; drowned out solely by the pounding of your heart in your ears. The weapons strain against each other, neither side giving even an inch, before the two of you are finally pushed back by the sheer force of your strength.

His eyes are devoid of grace, yet they shine radiant as they meet yours; with passion, with fervour, with the pure thrill of battle.

You can't help but feel a smile tug at your lips.

How good it feels, to clash with a fellow warrior at last.

------

Hoarah Loux is a formidable fighter, that much is undeniable; but after your initial meeting on the battlefield, you found that he was also a most charming fellow... and a most wonderful partner. As his arm rests comfortably around your shoulders, his expression warm and tender, there is no sign of your past as enemies to be found.

"She looks to be healthy," he says of the sleeping infant in your arms, his free hand raising to so gently rest a finger against her chubby cheek. "Uninjured, as well."

Your breathing has finally slowed to a regular rate, and your body leans into his own, seeking the comfort of his warmth. Defending the village from attack had been fair and well... but when you'd realised there was a baby left alone in one of the houses, and the raiders were heading straight for her, the fear had kicked in immediately; and even now, it hadn't quite dissipated fully.

Gazing down at her sleeping form, her head so easily cradled by Hoarah's hand, you feel your heart swell with pride in the little one.

To survive such an ordeal and sleep so soundly after... She, too, must be quite the warrior.

------

Nepheli is sparring with the other children, her skills with the wooden sword truly admirable for her age. At your side, you catch a glimpse of Hoarah's fond smile; an expression of parental pride that perfectly matches the feeling blooming in your heart.

Attacks on the village from rival groups still come as frequently as they ever did, and people of your own former homeland still come now and then to make a useless attempt at convincing you to return. Every day, the sun rises with the ominous potential of danger from any angle; a threat that's felt infinitely weightier ever since your daughter came into your lives.

But, as you see the pride in your partner's eyes, and the strength in your daughter's strikes... you know you'll all make it through.

You are warriors, after all.