#rising from the dead to bitch again | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

darlingdekarios · 2 years ago

Text

no place like home.

rating: explicit. 18+ only. length: 17,578 content: The Homelander x f!reader, dead dove do not eat, dark themes [kidnapping, dubious consent], Homelander is very much so Homelander, controlling behavior, smut [masturbation - public for Homelander, fingering - receiving, oral - receiving, unprotected p in v], kink(s) [breeding, semi-public]

Homelander doesn't just want to be loved by everyone, he needs to be loved by everyone...but most of all, he needs to be loved by you.

“Homelander saves the day once again.”

“Homelander is our hometown hero after another heroic weekend.”

“Welcome home, Homelander!”

One of his favorite things to do when he returned home was to flip through the news channels, swimming in the sea of compliments all for him…for whatever they’d scripted for him to do this time. He often found himself wishing he could drown in this sea - if he weren’t so fucking good at everything, maybe he could. This was always his favorite way to pass the time. The high he felt from the various phrases of approval for him would give him enough gratification until the next time he was let loose to do exactly what he was created to do. Your voice flooded his ears on a particularly cold mid-October afternoon, yet the sweet sound only provided poisoned words.

“Homelander - Hometown Hero or Homegrown Hoax? On this episode we’re-”

A hoax? Despite the chill of the day, Homelander found his body immediately surged with heat at your selfish words of disapproval. Not that these petty chores were any real risk to him, but there was no law that he had to help people. In fact, he could choose to never help a single person ever again with his gifts, and there was nothing anyone else could do about it. Who was strong enough to stop the Homelander from doing exactly what he wanted? And yet, here you were, with a voice entirely too sweet to be saying such ugly things about him – about the one true god of this sorry planet.

Failing to drain out your words, he found himself turning his attention away from the news channels on his tv praising him, and instead focusing on the laptop in front of him – on pulling up the video for your silly little podcast. He had to see what the woman who dared speak of him this way looked like – to see who such a sweet voice could belong to. And he was quite possibly the furthest thing he’d ever been from disappointed when his eyes finally saw you for the first time.

You were so beautiful, so tempting and delicious, and yet you were tarnishing all of the perfect things you presented about yourself by speaking so poorly of him. Who were you, with your insignificant podcast, to sit here and pass judgments about anything he’d done? Who were you to threaten to expose the things he deserved to do – the things that were his right to do? You were nothing, and yet right now, you were everything that consumed him as he wrapped his mind around your words, as he tried to process the hatred you felt you could so freely spout for him.

The half an hour show felt like an eternity as your words washed over him like fire. He was red hot by the time the show wrapped up and he found himself breathing heavily through clenched teeth. Pausing with his eyes glued to the frozen image of you the ending video had left on his screen, he found himself rising to pace the room, eyes never leaving the screen. He’d saved an entire bus load of stupid kids tonight, and this is what he came home to? To this entitled little bitch talking about the things you thought he did wrong? Right or wrong – it didn’t matter, because it was what he wanted to do.

He found himself unable to rest. For the entirety of the day, it seemed, he worked his way through the archive of your work – from the beginning, desperate for any mention of his name falling from your negative lips. Episode after episode took up hour after hour of his night as he set out on his treasure hunt, becoming desperate as years worth of cookie-cutter journalism flooded his ears. But there was nothing. No comments about The 7, no comments about Vought, no comments about him…he almost found himself wishing to hear his name slip from your lips dripping with hatred rather than he wished for you to ignore him completely.

His efforts were not rewarded until he reached a podcast dated November 07 of one year prior - the last episode uploaded until about a month ago. It almost made him giddy to hear his name on your lips again, and the feeling didn’t falter as the story of the short-than-usual episode took place – you were sorry you hadn’t updated the channel in a while, and let your loyal followers know that you would be taking a break from journalism to work through some personal trauma. The trauma was that in October of last year, Homelander had been told “no” a few too many times and decided to throw a tantrum to get his point across – laser beaming into a building full of innocent people without regard for their safety…without regard for their lives. Amongst the dead that day was a young man, the one with whom you’d planned to spend your life with.

This wasn’t the story Vought told, of course – they could never tarnish the shining reputation of their golden boy who simply needed to learn how to accept disappointment sometimes. The story that capitalistic cunt-filled company twisted into the media for themselves was that Homelander had tracked an extremely dangerous group of gun-wielding terrorists to the building and taken the route with the least amount of damage by using his laser eyes to take out the terrorists (and half of the building with them in a tragic loss). He’d rehearsed the speech the company had written for him enough times to where his apology sounded sincere, though you seemed to see right through that little façade, according to your podcast.

He could feel the hollowness in your voice as he watched you speak about how the last couple of weeks had been for you - about how you’d been feeling since you lost Adam. Homelander found that every time the name Adam fell from your lips, every time you mentioned how good of a man Adam had been , his eyes gave an involuntary roll. I mean, honestly, he worked in some totally unspectacular building on an unspectacular street - how special could he honestly be? This nobody was good enough for you to speak so highly of on your podcast, yet Homelander wasn’t worth an ounce of that attention? Who the fuck cares about Adam when Homelander exists?

The first episode you’d uploaded since then was from a month ago, and Homelander had to admit that the anger forming in your features as you spoke about him made you look so deliciously pretty. To his absolute pleasure, you hardly seemed to even mention Adam by name all this time later, but Homelander fell from your lips like a symphony…no matter how angry it was. He could listen to you say his name laced with every emotion for hours, and he desperately wanted to hear how you’d sound saying his name with praise.

But you had no words of praise for him, not a single one. Every good thing Homelander did was scripted, and you pointed that out frequently. The real Homelander was the one who threw tantrums and killed innocent people. A hoax. You’d called him a hoax a lot over the last month across several episodes, and that word was not particularly pretty when you were saying it about him. You hated him. He was “everything wrong with being a superhero”, and a “mockery of the word hero”...blah, blah, blah. The feeling surged through him like fire and he swiped the laptop from his desk, sending it crashing into the nearest wall and snapping. No one talked about him like this. No one dared speak his name alongside such negativity, alongside such open anger. He was outside and landing on the roof at Vought in almost no time at all, making his way down to crime analytics - to Anika. He knew she could never refuse what he demanded. Dropping an image of you he’d printed on her keyboard he placed his hands firmly behind his back. “I need an address for her,” he snapped, tone serious enough to let Anika know the man wasn’t in the mood to wait today. “If an address isn’t possible, I need somewhere to find her. Today .”

All Anika could do was swallow and nod as she immediately began her work, searching for a trace of this poor woman who, for some reason, had Homelander’s attention. He never gave a backup option without her suggesting one, and the fact that he suggested anything other than an address meant he was desperate. Anika – and everyone else in the room – could feel the tension dripping from the dangerous Supe as he waited. Anika almost regretted handing over the information he asked for, but dared not to deny him what he asked.

It was a genuine joy when he found himself outside of your meek apartment, gazing into the privacy of your home. It was getting late, well after 8pm now, and yet you still weren’t home. Just as the possibilities began swimming in his head about what could be keeping your attention this late at night you walked through the front door, dropping your keys in a bowl on the counter and immediately walking to the bedroom. He gulped down as you pulled your shirt over your head, reaching behind yourself to unclasp your bra. You lived high enough up in the building to where you felt safe enough to do this – to undress in front of an open window, free from the prying eyes of the streets. But you weren’t free of him now. You’d probably never be free of his obsession again.

You wiggled your hips as you worked your jeans down the curve of your hips, your thighs, dropping to the floor and giving Homelander a glance of what you had to offer him – though with your back to him, he still couldn’t see what he wanted the most. Still, the view was enough to make him begin to tent his pants despite the cool evening air on the rooftop. You let your hair down from the messy updo it had been in all day and run your fingers through your hair as you walked to the kitchen to pour yourself a glass of wine in your underwear. Taking in a big drink you turned to walk back to your bedroom, and Homelander couldn’t help but push his pants down, face cold and emotionless as he watched you parade around your apartment looking delicious for him.

You walked to a record player and began an old jazz album before walking to the bathroom to run some water for a bath, right as Homelander grasped his cock in his fist, hissing at the feeling into the dark night. You swallowed another large drink of your wine and walked back into your bedroom, grabbing a vibrator from the nightstand and laying back on your bed. You would be sick to your stomach if you knew you were on complete display for him like this and the thought made his cock twitch in his hand as Homelander began working an orgasm from himself right as you ran the toy along your folds. He had never been more thankful for his sense of hearing than the moment he heard a moan fall from your lips.

Groaning at the combined visual of the vibrator slipping into you and the beautiful sounds you made (which he felt was a much better use of your pretty mouth than your little podcast), he began to pump himself faster and harder, eyes briefly rolling back into his head before he pulled himself together again. His eyes needed to stay glued to you right now – needed to watch you pleasure yourself. Clearly your life wasn’t so fucking miserable, after all.

Homelander didn’t last long before he came into the air, not giving a single thought as to where it would land as it fell from the building’s roof, nearly yelling out a groan as you moaned once more. Allowing yourself a moment to come down from your high you then slipped the toy from your sopping core before throwing back the rest of the wine and walking your way into the bathroom to finish unwinding from your day. When you disappeared into the bathroom where Homelander could no longer see you he took this as his opportunity to return to his own home.

It was infuriating for him…wanting you to adore him as everyone else should, knowing you despised him, and witnessing how fucking hot you could be. It was obvious your life couldn’t be so bad considering you appeared to have a job, an apartment, and enough drive to pleasure yourself the moment you got home. For a moment Homelander wondered if you had been with a man who couldn’t please you tonight, so you finished the job yourself when you returned home – but he pushed the thought from his mind when he felt the anger boil within himself again.

It just wasn’t fair. He should be allowed to have whatever he wanted – he was a god, and god didn’t have to ask for things. They shouldn’t have to convince anyone to love them. Fear and respect for those superior should come naturally to everyone, and yet here this weaker non-super powered human was having the audacity to say such horrible things about him…having the audacity to ruin his homecoming this way. All he’d been able to focus on since he got home was you and your hatred for him when he should’ve been masturbating on his couch to all of the beautiful things people had to say about him. A journalist in his city as beautiful as you who only had negative things to say about him? That wouldn’t do, and he would get you in line no matter what he had to do. He would do anything to hear your praises, including putting in a phone call to an old acquaintance for a favor involving kidnapping his pesky journalist to get a point across – and he didn’t even have to ask nicely.

And so as you slept that night a nightmare came true as a stranger crawled through your window to do Homelander’s bidding.

There wasn’t much to decipher about your current situation, and as day after day passed you began to lose that fighting spirit you usually displayed with pride and the pit in your stomach seemed to grow. You were fairly certain you’d been on this concrete floor in a windowless room for at least 3 nights now, and you were beginning to come to terms with the horrible facts about your situation – you probably weren’t going to like whatever came next, whether it was trafficking, or worse. You hadn’t heard another human voice in the time here, despite the fact someone – a man – stuck his arm in through the door to hand you food and water. It wasn’t exactly comforting to know that he was trying to keep you alive.

The time passed slowly in isolation and only seemed to pass slower as new aches and pains sprang forth everyday from the harsh concrete beneath you. It felt like every couple of hours you were crying again, desperate to be home and in your bed, desperate to feel the sunshine on your face, desperate to hear someone, anyone talk to you. But reality was often cruel to you and now was no exception. Fortunately for your breaking spirit, the third sleep would be your last. There was no way to discern what time it was when crashing sounds could be heard above you, startling you and immediately sending you into a panic attack. Whatever it was upstairs sounded horrible – like the tossing of furniture, yelling, loud thuds – and you were certain this could only mean bad things for you.

As the door to the small prison you found yourself in was ripped off its hinges you felt the tears flow down your cheeks faster than they ever had, a sob leaving your lips as you buried your face in your knees, fearing for the worst. The sound of boots came closer and it felt like your heart was going to stop before that voice filled your ears – a voice you knew well, and often wished you didn’t, but right now it was the best sound you’d ever heard.

“Uncover your eyes, ma’am,” his overly-confident voice slipped into your ears, his tone even and soothing in all of the uncertainty you’d been feeling. “You’re safe now.”

You uncovered your eyes from the curtains of your shaky hands and they found their way to his outstretched hand before settling on the two sapphires that embedded themselves as eyes in his skull. You reached out one of the hands to his, which he used to firmly, yet surprisingly gently, lift you to your feet, pulling you against him to steady you as your legs began to give out. You hadn’t gotten to do much moving the last couple of days, and the concrete had done your muscles and bones no favors.

Supporting your full weight against his solid frame with an arm around your waist the strongest man in the world helped you outside, failing to push the thoughts of how your body felt against his from his mind to try to be the best hero he could for you right now. When the cool, fresh air sucked into your lungs for the first time in days the tears came harder. Your mind continued to go into hyperdrive as the sirens surrounding you flooded your ears and the cameras of far away yet too close news vans. Your chest began to rise and fall faster as a sob fell from your lips, your lungs desperately attempting to find stability.

He turned to you as your breaths became more desperate, your eyes darting around at all of the different people, all of the noises,��everything happening , frantically trying to make sense of things you didn’t understand – that no one should have to understand. His hands reached to cup your cheeks in his hands and he turned his head down to look at you fully, eyes burning like ice into yours. His thumbs brushed themselves over your cheekbones lightly as his voice dropped so only you could hear him.

“Hey now, miss,” his voice was gentler, less arrogant yet still confident as he tried to bring you back to Earth. For the first time you understood how so many people could find comfort in this Adonis of a man – this close to him the world didn’t matter because there was nothing that could ever hurt you, because there was nothing that could come close to him. “I need you to breathe with me. Deep breaths, right with me. I know you can do that.”

He was so reassuring, and hearing this man that could truly do anything instill confidence in you being able to do something with him gave your brain a moment of clarity. You nodded your head in his surprisingly soft hands and found yourself incapable of looking away from his eyes as he began to coach you through deep breaths, your body relaxing as the oxygen settled within you and thanking this man by relaxing into the safety of his grasp. When your breathing steadied enough you clenched your eyes closed, tears spilling onto his hands. At another time, in another place, he’d have licked the salty liquid off to sample what you had to offer, but here, in front of these cameras, he was intent on being your perfect hero.

“Thank you, Homelander,” you managed out with a shaky, unused voice that caused his eyes to close, his fingertips to sink into your skin at your cheeks just a little deeper before he remembered himself and stepped away, swallowing a whine at the loss of warmth beneath his hands. His eyes opened again to meet yours and he gave you his best smile, one that you couldn’t deny made your heart skip a beat, despite where you were and what you’d lived through the days prior.

“I need you to go to Vought to file a report…to have photos taken of your condition…before we can get you home. The best doctors in the city will take care of you if anything is wrong,” he spoke dutifully, like he had done this a million times because he had , but this time it was more important to him than ever to ensure his words carried weight. To ensure that you felt the safety of him. He dropped his voice lower to continue, “I will be there to take care of you every step of the way.”

All you could do was nod and relinquish yourself to this man – this man who you knew was so dangerous. The reasonable voice in the back of your mind was screaming at you to remember your hatred for him but the horrible, terrified part of your soul that longed to be cared for latched itself onto him, anchoring into the act he was putting on display for you. He steadied you against his frame just as he had before to escort you to a black suv, helping you into the backseat before leaning against the roof to speak into the car to you.

“These drivers will take good care of you,” his voice was soft, reassuring, coaxing you into relaxation you craved as you felt the first soft surface against your body in days. He noticed how your features relaxed and a light smile played out on his lips briefly. “I will meet you at the Vought medical center when you arrive. I’ll arrive before you.”

“N-no,” your voice was louder than it had been before, desperate to silence the plan he had in mind. Your hand reached out to grab anything you could on his suit, and when the fabric wouldn’t give your hand found its way to his shoulder, grasping like he may disappear at your fingertips at any moment. “Please.”

You were tired and it was all you could manage, but he didn’t need to hear more than those two words from you to understand what you wanted of him – what you needed of him. Your eyes were once again widened with worry, and he found himself slipping into the backseat of the car next to you, shooting a look to the cameras as he went. He didn’t know why he did it – perhaps it would make him look good to be with a victim every step of the way, gain him more points with women. Deep down, however, the supe knew that the real reason he found himself riding in a fucking car to Vought for the first time in so long was because you had choked out the most broken, desperate ‘please’, and he just couldn’t bring himself to refuse you what you wanted.

It wasn’t long into the drive that Homelander was rewarded for his desperate ploy for your attention when you succumbed to the comfort of the vehicle, falling asleep with light breaths cascading from your lips as your head rolled from the headrest to his shoulder. He’d never felt more justified in his actions than in this moment. He started dreading moving you away from him prematurely, and instructed the drivers to take a longer route. He deserved this moment to last as long as he wanted it to.

When he was content with the length of the drive, content with the way you seemed to melt into his side as your sleep deepened, he allowed the drivers to return to Vought, where he gently reached a hand up to touch your cheek, voice gentle as he spoke your name to bring you back to consciousness. Forgetting your safety momentarily you jolted awake, hand shooting out to grab his where you clutched it against your face, eyes finding his and realizing yourself again. His hand melted against your cheek and he didn’t mind your grasp around it in the slightest – it’s not like you could ever hurt him or stop him if you really wanted to, and your hands were soft.

Giving you a moment to center yourself and taking obvious, deep breaths beside you, in this proximity he enjoyed the flecks of color in your eyes and the freckles that formed constellations across your nose and cheeks. He hadn’t noticed these smaller details about you before, and he wondered how many more small details he could find decorating your body, but he once again pushed the thought down before he became too eager. His performance of the day was far from over.

He released your face from his gentle hold and exited the vehicle first, shooting a look over to the crowds of people holding cameras and phones to see their favorite hero do what he did best. As the door opened you heard the noise from the building again and your breath seemed to catch in your throat again. The bewildered, frantic look returned to your eyes that reminded Homelander of an animal stuck in the path of a predator, and he exhaled deeply, turning back to face the crowd and analyze the best way to address this situation. He’d never turn cameras away from capturing his glory, but you needed to be taken care of by him.

He offered his hand to you again to direct you to exit the car. You hesitated, unwilling to feel crushed by the weight of the world around you outside of the vehicle, but ultimately slipped your hand into his and allowed him to assist you off of the comfort of the soft seat. His eyes flickered down into yours as he kept you between the car and himself, blocking you from the cameras that awaited your arrival. What a world you lived in where you couldn’t be rescued from being kidnapped without your image being everywhere.

“We’re going to have to walk past them,” he spoke low and direct, leaving no room for a counterargument to his plan. All you could do was stare up into his eyes, surrendering to the fact that you would ultimately listen to whatever he asked of you, not that he really asked. “If you trust me, I can make it more comfortable for you.”

Your head bobbed in a nod before you really thought about what you were agreeing to, unsure still due to the lack of details until he pulled you under his arm, keeping a firm hand around your shoulders as he used his other hand to reach down and wrap his cape up to cover you, shielding you from the harsh world. He smiled his most dashing smile for any cameras he could, all the while speaking soft praises about how well you were doing as the two of you walked toward the building. Several times he declined to stop for a selfie with those who asked, stating that he had a more important job to focus on right now.

This was definitely why millions of people loved him. This is why people had spent the past year relentlessly attacking you online, saying you had no idea what you were talking about when it came to your criticisms of him. You had said so many horrible things about him and yet today he ripped a door from its hinges from you, and now he was ensuring you made it into the privacy of the building without slipping into another state of panic. He was a hero. Right now he was your hero.

Once inside he released you from under his cape and spun you back around to face him, his hand resting on your shoulder as his eyes met your face again, scanning for any sign of discomfort. The two of you were immediately joined by a team of people, primarily medical professionals and the Vought equivalent of detectives who started to maneuver you into an elevator. You desperately reached for his forearm, not ready to let him go and relinquish the safety net that he had enveloped you in. He was happy to oblige your need for him and he stepped next to you, mentally noting how your fingernails sank into his skin. He could get used to that.

He stayed next to you for the majority of the day after that. While you were being examined he’d gone to get you water – a whole 32 ounces of electrolyte balanced water and he’d asked you so nicely to drink it. After the medical examination and clearance (you had some bruises he definitely wasn’t privy to or happy about, but that could be addressed later), he’d gone to fetch you some wet wipes and a change of clean clothes, wishing for once that he had a real shirt to provide you with. Of course, he’d stashed your underwear in his suit instead of turning it in with the evidence…surely someone would ask, but it could be covered up. It could always be covered up for him.

You’d been offered many places to stay tonight other than your own apartment – Maeve’s spare bedroom, Starlight even jumped in to offer her bed (she’d take the couch), Vought offered to pay for a hotel room after being urged to by Homelander. You’d passed on every offer, insisting that you wanted to sleep in your own bed, that you needed to use your shower. You did have one, simple request, however.

“I…would feel better if you came with me, Homelander,” you’d barely spoken above a whisper, your voice still coarse undoubtedly from the screaming you’d certainly done throughout your ordeal. He couldn’t stop the light smirk that fell across his features at your request, his ego feeling the boost of your desire for him. “If you could check my doors…and windows.”

And so he had escorted you home, once again joining you in the back of an SUV and once again enjoying the heat passing between the closeness of your bodies. Walking into the confines of your apartment punched him in the face with the overwhelming scene of you everywhere, all around him, and he had to close his eyes in the doorway to pull himself together before he set off on his final job of the night – making you feel safe in his absence.

The door was checked twice, and he pointed out that he would have the locks changed the next day. Each and every window was inspected top to bottom, locked and pulled on, and checked for any cracks before he returned to where you sat on the couch, curled into the corner with a glass of wine in your hand, staring at nothing, your mind actually miles away. He moved to the side of the couch and crouched down, reaching out to touch your arm gently to coax you from your trance. With another jump your eyes found his and a relieved breath passed through your lips.

“Everything is locked tight…no one is getting in here. I put my phone number on your nightstand…just in case,” he was choosing to act so nonchalant but in actuality his insides were marveling at the way you seemed to be holding on to his every word. Your eyes found his again and he could see the conflict in them, and briefly considered asking you to stay with him, to allow him to protect you…but he knew you’d say no. Staying with him would be too much on top of the last four days. “Try to sleep tonight, your body needs it.”

You nodded and finished the glass in one swift drink, setting the glass on the coffee table before turning your head to look back up at him again, contemplating the questions in your mind that you weren’t entirely ready to face. As you attempted to stand your knees gave out, muscles caving to the pain from sleeping on the concrete floor and from walking the most you had in days for hours. Luckily your hero was there and he had the best reflexes on the planet, and he only had to reach out one arm across your waist to stabilize you, pulling you close to his chest in the process to ensure you didn’t actually fall. As he looked down at you his eyebrows furrowed so quickly a camera would miss it in a genuine show of concern for you.

“If I leave here tonight, are you going to start falling all over the place?”

You couldn’t help the light laugh that left you with a huff of breath through your nose, and you shook your head, rolling your eyes at his light humor. Laughing at him and enjoying his attention felt wrong, but the part of you that craved his protection shoved the guilt down. “Maybe you can just help me to bed? I probably won’t move once I’m there.”

With a nod he faced you forward and took his place by your side, wrapping an arm across your lower back to steady you as he took you to bed, head swimming with the many different ways he’d rather be carrying out this task – but to truly win you over, he needed to be kind. A gentleman. A true American hero – and he had practice. Once you were comfortably laying against the familiarity of your own bed you released the most delicious, pleasured breath from your lips and Homelander’s heart wrenched at the sound, filled with the desire to work those sounds from you himself. He kneeled next to the bed, face close to yours, eyes serious as he wished you a goodnight in the best way he could while playing this role.

“I will catch the man that did this to you,” he assured, and noted how your eyes seemed to melt at his declaration of intent to seek justice for you. “And I will make sure he can never hurt you again.”

It had been four days since Homelander had left you alone that night. You opted to stay home, only leaving the walls of your apartment to meet delivery drivers for food. Going to the grocery was not something you were quite ready to tackle. To your surprise, Homelander had not returned (to your knowledge, at least – in actuality he had returned every day, sometimes twice a day, just to peek through that wide open window and hope to see a glance of you) since he’d brought you home that night. While you repeatedly reminded yourself that he was likely trying to capture whomever had done this to you.

Even still, you found your mind frequently wandering to him – wondering when you’d see him again, swallowing the disgust you felt toward yourself for wanting to see him again, thinking about how safe it felt to be held against him. This fourth night was particularly difficult – you were lonely, yet weren’t ready to face the questions of your usual friends or leave your apartment, for that matter. As you settled yourself onto the couch for yet another old black-and-white film, a knock at the door caused your heart to jump and your stomach to sink. Standing and walking toward the door cautiously, you decided to use your voice before unlocking the new locks that had been installed three days before. Just because Homelander hadn’t been around didn’t mean he wasn’t upholding promises.

“Who is it?” You tried to sound intimidating, you really did, but the fear was rising in your torso and settling in your chest and you suddenly felt like you weren’t breathing enough at all. You tried to suck in a steady breath, remembering the way Homelander had taught you to do so just days before, as the voice you most wanted to hear sounded through the door.

“I wanted to let you know I found the man,” he stated simply, ignoring the question you’d asked altogether. You didn’t need him to answer it, anyway – the moment you recognized the familiar ring of his voice you were unlocking the doors, and were soon face to face with him. You gulped as you realized this must have been recent, as he was covered in dirt, and a mixture of blood and sweat painted his face and caused pieces of his hair to cling to places it normally didn’t. He continued as you opened the door and his eyes met yours, “he fired a gun at me, so I had to eliminate the threat. He won’t be bothering you again.”

You released that breath you’d been trying to focus on and leaned against the door frame, closing your eyes to take in the news for a moment. Maybe you could go outside again. Maybe you didn’t have to be so afraid. Maybe you’d never meet another man like that again – one willing to create this fear in you. Maybe Homelander would always be around to protect you now.

And he would. Mentally he knew that now. He couldn’t stay away despite any effort he put into the task. Yesterday he’d told himself he would only stop by your apartment once to check-in on you, needing to put some distance there, needing to get over this infatuation he had. Instead, he’d shown up at your apartment four times that day, finding himself rubbing his cock fiercely and coming over a photo he’d printed of you and him – it had printed in the newspaper and was of the day he rescued you, with his hands cupping your face as he reminded you how to breathe. He was trying to stay away from you, from this human who had created such a response in him, but he couldn’t help himself any longer. He needed your attention, he needed your gratification, he needed to hear you praise him…he needed you to need him.

And so he’d done what thousands of other men have done in history: he murdered a man to impress and win a woman. He reached out a gloved hand to you to lightly tap your chin, asking you without words to look at him. He needed you to look him in the eyes – he needed to see how you flushed under his attention. You granted his wish and he noticed the tears in your eyes, tears that appeared not to be from sadness, but from gratification. Of relief. Of sheer joy. And it was all because of him.

“Thank you. I don’t know what to say other than…thank you,” you were bashful under this intense gaze from him and tucked a loose piece of hair behind your ear, feeling heat rise to your cheeks as he gave you a smile somewhat different from his normal – somewhat genuine. Somewhat natural. He couldn’t stop himself from catching the tear that fell from one of your eyes on his gloved finger, and he fawned at the way your lips fell open at that simple gesture. His mind could only wonder what your reactions to more serious actions from him would be. Ignoring the thick tension between you he leaned slightly closer, his arm resting above yours on the door frame, towering over you.

His eyes met yours as he spoke, the smell of him entering your senses – the sweat, the dirt, the blood, but something else there…something alluring. You had to swallow the thought down as his suddenly unscripted, unpracticed, uncalculated words slipped an invitation to hell with him into your ears. “To thank me…you could come to a Vought fundraiser. Tomorrow night. It’s short notice, but I want you there.”

Your lips parted in that way that made them look so kissable again, and he had to resist the urge to dip his head down and sink his teeth into that tempting bottom lip. You seemed to accept that you were in no position to deny him, in no position to question anything he could ask when he’d proven to be your hero, proven to keep his word to you…you would never be able to say another bad thing about him again, and you knew that. He had ensured that the world knew he was your savior, and truthfully, you didn’t mind. He was your hero. He had righted the wrong that was done against you.

You nodded and tucked another falling piece of hair behind your ear, breathing in the scent of him again and beginning to feel slightly warmer than normal under this intensity of his gaze. “If you have someone send me details, I’ll make sure I’m there. Since…you asked so nicely,” he smiled again as you spoke and you couldn’t help but swoon at these genuine smiles he was giving you so freely right now, wondering how many other people got to see them. “I’ll give you a call tomorrow to…make sure I know what to do?”

You’d call him. The words repeated themselves in his head as he nodded. They repeated themselves for the hours that passed before he spoke to you in the morning. A dress would be at your apartment that afternoon. A car would pick you up for the event at 5:45. The event started at 6:30. And so the hours passed as both of you prepared for the event, both of your minds occupied with the possibilities an evening like this could hold – both of you unsure what these thoughts you were having meant.

Homelander had followed through and sent you everything you needed – including a dress that felt far too expensive for you, shoes, and a necklace that had the most beautiful, unique white gemstone cut into its center. It was all far too expensive – far too nice – for you, and you elected to opt out of wearing the necklace, feeling a bit overwhelmed by all of the extravagant gifts. It was easier to collect yourself, to remember the stance you’d had on him for over a year now, when you weren’t frozen in his gaze. If you knew the truth of the desecration that went into Homelander’s chosen attire for you – that he’d rubbed the dress all over his body to cover you in his scent and that the unique gemstone was actually his cum encased and designed to look like a gem – the grand gestures would seem so wholesome and kind. In his mind, however, this was affection…or at least a form of affection he could provide.

He, of course, arrived at the event far before you did, far before most people did, but immediately began his waiting game for you, itching to see how you looked in the dress he’d chosen for you. When he caught a glimpse of someone’s watch, his jaw briefly clenched, despite the mask he was trying to present to the world right now.

Where were you? He couldn’t pay attention to whatever this dumb whore was talking about because his mind was burning with questions – were you just running it dangerously close to being late, or were you not truly coming at all? Just as the rage started to bubble in his stomach a new heartbeat entered the room and his head immediately turned to find its owner. When he saw you, he couldn’t have taken his eyes off of you if he wanted to. He gently moved shoved the woman who had been trying to work for his attention out of the way so nothing was in the way of your view of him as you made your way further – closer to him.

It wasn’t that he was particularly stylish, but he understood what made people look good, and that fact was proven once again by the way that the dress he’d chosen for you made you look tonight. The thin, metallic gold fabric clung and flowed around your body in a way that mimicked liquid. The v-cut line gave enough away to inspire Homelander to drag his tongue across his lips and stand a little taller, but kept enough up to the imagination that he didn’t feel the need to rip the heads off of every man who looked at you.

But you got closer and more of his senses kicked in, and he soon realized his earlier actions had been rewarded and you smelled so deliciously like him , mixed with the sweet scent of you. As the scent consumed him his cock twitched in his pants and he had to force a smile to cover the real things he was feeling, though anyone would be a fool to think he, or anyone else for that matter, would feel differently looking at you right now. You moved so gracefully, so lavishly as you made your way to him, a small smile dancing on your lips despite your best efforts. It wasn’t often you held the attention of the most famous man in the world.

There were too many eyes on you that weren’t his own and though there was comfort in the delicious mingling of your scents, he needed the room to know you looked this way for him tonight. You wore this dress for him, you’d clearly had your hair done for him, you were wearing the perfect shade of red on your lips for him…it was all for him. You were all for him. Maintaining what slight composure he could hold over himself when you looked like this, he covered the distance between the two of you and looked down at you over his nose, his blue eyes sparkling with something sinister as you looked up at him.

“I was beginning to worry you weren’t going to show,” his confession caused you to still, your mind still not quite able to process these niceties from him, unable to comprehend that you may have been wrong about him. Giving you his best smile he enticed you to fall deeper into his trap, like a bee clumsily finding her way into a venus fly trap. He offered his arm to you and despite the parts of your brain screaming no you took it, wrapping your hands to clasp together around his bicep. His gloved hand found its way to your lower back, where the dress dipped to right above the curve of your ass, and he made a mental note to himself to take his gloves off at some point in the evening. “You didn’t like the necklace I sent you?”

Your cheeks burned red as you started walking with him, highly aware of all the eyes on the two of you as you made your way to the front of the room where a small stage awaited, surely, him. You shook your head and glanced up at him, voice still soft and timid since your ordeal. It only made him make another mental note – to find a way to make you be louder later. “Oh, it was lovely, I just…”

“Didn’t appreciate it?”

It was, in some ways, the same arrogant tone that he always used and yet different – insecure, questioning, maybe even a little frightened, and certainly much quieter than usual, much more intentionally for you alone. Your eyes glanced up to his face to find him facing forward, jaw set in a harsh way you hadn’t seen on him in person yet. He always looked so happy, so pleasant, so perfect around you…but now, he looked like a man fighting his own battles like everyone else.

“I loved it. It was so lovely. Everything is so…lovely,” fell from your lips in a desperate plea for his face to soften, for him to lighten the tension passing between the two of you. His features faltered slightly and his eyes glanced down at you briefly before r eturning to his hardened position. You lowered your voice to ensure only he could hear you. “Everything smelled so…good…when I opened the box from you earlier. That was a nice…touch.”

His lips parted slightly as his head turned down to look at you, shock written clearly across his face from your words of praise for him, in front of all of these people. When he remembered the surrounding guests he closed his mouth but immediately smiled, turning his eyes forward again to lead you abruptly to the right, away from the crowd. Sucking in a deep breath and releasing it slowly, Homelander chuckled softly, shaking his head slightly.

“You have no idea what you just did to me,” his voice was low, rumbling, and yet dripping with desperation as he led you away from the event. Finally reaching an elevator he dragged you inside, pressing the button for the floor he needed. Waiting for the elevator to rise for a moment he connected his fist with the emergency stop before turning to face you, placing your body between the wall and him. His eyes dragged down you so slowly as he leaned forward to inhale deeply, allowing a quiet groan to slip through his lips as he exhaled. “You should smell this way all of the time.”

Your body seemed to reach a boiling point immediately at his words, at how close he was, and how he felt like he was staring straight into you, examining exactly what made you tick – it was the only explanation for how he seemed to know exactly what the worst parts of you were crying for deep within. Pulling a glove from one hand he reached out to drag his fingers along your clavicle before flattening his hand at the base of your throat, sliding it up to grasp your jaw and tilt your head back to look at him fully. As he slipped his hand around your head and into your hair he dropped his voice again, “who do you look so gorgeous for tonight? Who made you show up looking so delicious?”

“You,” the affirmation came out as the saddest, most desperate moan that had ever passed through your lips and he smiled, his fingers gripping your hair at the back of your head and bringing you closer to his face. His eyes darted across your face, paying particular attention to your lips, as his free hand reached behind to start the elevator again. “Where…are you taking me?”

“Wherever I want,” was the reply that came from his mouth, quickly dismissing any idea of argument you had in your mind. He leaned his face closer to yours and breathed in deeply, groaning when the elevator door opened. Stepping away from you he gestured for you to exit ahead of him. “Through the door down the hall.”

For a moment part of your brain that was probably correct told you to refuse, to stay on the elevator and take it back down to the event you were here for, to avoid whatever Homelander was shepherding you toward. Your feet, and the embarrassing heat growing in your stomach from how he’d touched you and groaned for you betrayed your brain and delivered you exactly where he’d desired – The Seven meeting room.

Ignoring the door entirely and closing the distance between you when the realization hit he grabbed you by the back of your head again, voice quiet as he spoke, “why can’t you say nice things about me all of the time, hmm?”

His hand that wasn’t tangling fingers into your hair snaked its way down to your side, pulling you flush against him to which you both released a strangled, breathy moan. The room was on fire and you felt like your skin was melting as he walked you backward toward the table, forcing you to sit on the surface when you got exactly where he wanted you. Leaning over you fully he gave you no time to protest as his lips sought yours in desperation, releasing another groan at the feeling. Everything about him was pulling you in, anchoring you into him further and further and you couldn’t stop yourself from returning his kiss – from giving him what he wanted.

He didn’t ask to slip his silver tongue into your mouth but you didn’t deny him it either as his hand slid from your hip up to your left breast, squeezing firmly and moaning into your mouth once again. You pulled back, desperate for air right as his fingers pinched your nipple through the fabric of the dress he’d given you, and the most earnest of moans slipped from your mouth as your eyes rolled back, desperately grasping the edge of the table with your fingers. His voice was hurried, flustered, needy and yet so commanding, so precise as he leaned forward to speak in your ear, “you need to take this fucking dress off right now before I tear it to shreds. And I will.”

Your heart skipped and you felt how he huffed out a laugh against your neck briefly before pressing his lips against your neck, eliciting another moan from you. This was all it took from him to make you come undone? He chuckled again as he dragged his lips lower, to that tender spot where your neck and shoulder met where he dragged his teeth lightly, breathing in deeply. Your voice could hardly reach you when you managed out a hurried, “I…I’m not sure if…if this is okay, if we should…be doing this.”

The sound that left him was nothing more than a growl as he stood back over you, narrowing his eyes and shaking his head. His eyes had become the ocean on a stormy night and he looked so dangerous, so much like a predator as he looked down at you, releasing his hold on the back of your head and sliding both hands to your hips. His voice was low, matter-of-fact and offered no hint of compromise as he repeated himself, “you need to take this fucking dress off. Right now. Before I tear it…to little…tiny…shreds. And I will.”

Your hands had already found the zipper at your side before he finished speaking and you lowered it, trying to shimmy the tight fabric down your body as you sat, unwilling to tell him you needed help. He was more observant than that and saw your struggle, lifting you to your feet and effortlessly lifting you up, smirking as the dress fell down your body. Sitting you back on the table he took a step back, drinking in the sight of you on his fucking team’s table. He crossed his arms, raising a hand to rest his chin on it as he looked at you in adoration before continuing with a lighter tone. “That’s better. We just have one thing to talk about.”

As your mind instantly went into a state of mild panic at what he could possibly want to talk to you about he moved to run his hands to your thighs, giving them a squeeze. You couldn’t help but moan quietly and found yourself unable to voice your protests as he used his knee to bump your legs apart, running the hand that remained gloved to your core, slipping it into your panties. As the gloved finger found your clit he pressed firmly, earning another desperate cry from your lips as your eyes widened up at him. He smiled his false innocent smile and rubbed that same finger in a circle, pausing when exactly one circle had been completed.

“You have said so many mean, ugly things about me on that little podcast of yours,” his voice was laced with disappointment, with genuine anger and a whininess you weren’t aware he could speak with. He rubbed another circle and finally took direction from the gasp that fell from your lips to slip his gloved middle finger down and straight into your pussy. You momentarily clenched at the intrusion but when the sweetest whimper fell from your lips he smirked, and removed the finger all too quickly. “I think I have been the perfect gentleman to you, and I would appreciate it if that depressing podcast could be erased. All of it.”

He reached to switch hands and slid his ungloved hand into your panties, immediately slipping his index finger into you as his gloved hand reached your mouth and he stuck the finger that had been inside you moments ago into your own mouth, groaning at the dumbstruck look that formed on your features as you tasted yourself. Keeping his finger in your mouth he forced your head to nod by placing his thumb under your chin and he looked so proud of himself as he added a second finger and began pumping them in and out of you, cherishing the flustered sounds of mild protest that came from your lips.

“That’s right, just agree. There’s no use telling me no,” his voice was teasing, low and laced with a sinister tone as he began pistoning his fingers in and out of you, looking down to watch how the digits disappeared within your tight, slick cunt. When he curled his fingers to rub the spongy patch deep within you the moan that left your mouth around his fingers was your loudest yet and he smirked, the blue pools eyes flickering back up to yours. “You sound so fucking pretty for me. Tell me how it feels.“

He removed his finger from your mouth so you could have free reign of your responses now, and he slid that now free hand back to your chest. He cupped a breast in his hand as his head followed the pursuit, leaning to slowly flick his tongue across your nipple, earning a gasp from both of you. You knew if you didn’t respond to his orders he was just going to get angry. “God, Homelander…your fingers feel so good. You’re so good at that.”

Your words of praise went through him like a knife and with a wanton groan his mouth attached itself to your breast, suckling your nipple and flicking his tongue across the sensitive nub as his fingers continued their assault. His fingers pumping in and out of your cunt were causing the most downright pornographic noises from your body as you continued to grow impossibly wetter, your body preparing for the sweet high of release. When his thumb connected with your clit and began rubbing rushed circles he removed his mouth from your breast to look deep into your eyes.

“I want you to come for me before you take my cock,” was his simple statement as his fingers inside you curled again, hellbent on discovering what made you come undone for him. He could feel your clenching walls around his fingers and the moans falling from your lips told him he’d have you under his spell. “I want you to tell me you’ll delete the podcast, and I’ll let you come, and then I’ll reward you with my cock.”

You couldn’t stop his name leaving your mouth as a moan which only pushed him further — only made him want you even more. With a low growl the speed his fingers were moving picked up as he connected his lips to your neck again, sucking softly at the skin over your pulse. If they didn’t know already, everyone downstairs would certainly know who you belonged to when you returned with his purple masterpieces covering your neck, chest, and shoulders. As the building feeling deep within you reached the point of no return your walls clenched around him and you whined as his fingers left you fully, his eyes glancing up expectantly at you. He wasn’t going to continue without you giving him what he wanted.

“P-please don’t stop,” were the desperate words that left your mouth as you planted a half kiss against his lips, your breath still leaving you in gentle pants. The heat inside your core was too much and being on the edge wasn’t enough — you needed him to push you. “I’ll delete it. You can delete it, we can delete it just please let me come for you.”

You weren’t coming for yourself, you were coming for him, and your confession earned his fingers entering into you again as he groaned, leading you toward your orgasm as he reached to work his cock free from his pants. With a cracking moan your walls clenched impossibly tighter around his fingers as your orgasm washed over you, panting breaths falling from your lips as the world seemed to melt around you. There was no time to waste (he did have a speech to make, after all) and the moment your orgasm finished you found his fingers exiting to make way for the head of his cock slipping into you. You’d hear the grunt that fell from his lips into your ear for the rest of your life.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he praised, his eyes never leaving the sight of inch by inch of his cock disappearing into you as you moaned again, your hands grasping his shoulders in an attempt to steady yourself. If there was any point in arguing you’d tell the man he had to wear a condom, but you knew giving him orders would be futile. His thumb still attached to your clit rubbed a circle again, his lips meeting yours in a gentler kiss as he bottomed out within you, groaning as the head of his cock pushed at your cervix. Surprisingly, he did still to allow your body to adjust to his impaling. “Tell me how it feels.”

His words were desperate, pleading against your lips as one of his hands gripped your waist impossibly hard, surely leaving more purple in their path. The feeling of him stretching yours wall combined with this being the first you’d felt an unprotected cock inside of you had your chest tight, your heartbeat fluttering as you searched for the words he deserved. The words left your mouth in a pleasured sigh. “You feel perfect inside of me, Homelander . Please, please move.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. No longer needing to see how your face reacted to him claiming you, he forced you to flip on the table, your stomach against the cold material as he began to thrust in and out of you, his hips finding the pace that worked for you both almost immediately. His groans were damning and your moans only matched his sin as you pushed back into him, coaxing him to use your cervix as a punching bag.

One of his hands maintained its position at your waist as the other slid to connect with your neck, moving it to loosely wrap around your throat. The gasp that fell from your lips at the slight pressure of his hand told him to move faster and he did, plummeting into you like this was the only time he’d get to claim you. Without words the two of you knew that would never be the case. You were his now.

“That’s a good girl,” he purred out as he leaned down to connect his lips to your shoulder blade, sucking a mark in the spot for good measure. You took his praise as scripture and pushed back into him again, earning a deeper angle that resulted in a groan to erupt from his chest again. “That’s my good girl. My golden girl. Are you going to come for me again?”

You could only moan as his hand that had been on your hip slid south to reconnect a thumb to your swollen clit, beginning to rub relentlessly against the nub as his cock continued to be milked by your cunt. It was a good thing you had an implant, because convincing this man to spill his cum anywhere other than deep within you would have been pointless. To him, the best reward he could give you when you were being so good for him was his hot load deep within you. You should be so lucky to have his seed inside you.

“Yes,” you managed to breath out, your words hinting at your desperation for another release. His grasp on your neck tightened and despite that you fought to coax him toward his own finish alongside you. “You feel so good. You fuck me just right. P-please give me your cum, Homelander.”

The sound that erupted from him was probably best described as a roar as he picked up his pace, trying to remind himself not to break you but unable to stop the ferocity at which he began pounding into you. As the world shrunk to only this room and the two of you in it the euphoric state began to wash over you once again and you felt your walls clench around him, his name leaving your mouth as a scream. Hoping that everyone downstairs could hear you, hear what he was doing to you, he gave another harsh thrust before painting your walls with his cum, his movements becoming sloppy as he worked every last drop out of himself.

When he was certain he’d finished he removed himself from you, tucking his cock within his pants and grabbing your panties from around your ankles and raising them to their rightful place again just as his seed began to leak from you. His hand found its way to your cheek and his thumb brushed a gentle line across your cheekbone, his lips lowering to yours in a kiss. His words showed no sign of tiredness from his time with you.

“You’re going to keep those panties on and my cum is going to stay in them all night,” he placed another kiss to the corner of your mouth before continuing. “We’re going to go downstairs, we’re going to be the perfect couple for these fucking ingrates, and then you’re going to take me to your apartment so we can delete that podcast.”

As you re-entered the elevator with him your eyes connected with the smashed emergency stop button before drifting back up to him, soaking in the proud look that covered his face as he leaned against the elevator wall. A realization washer over you as your eyes cling to him like a sculpture in a museum — you were completely fucked.

Fucked, as it turned out, was a slight understatement. The moment the elevator doors had opened and the two of you stepped out he had wrapped an arm securely around your waist, holding you against him as he made his way back to the center of the room where a round stage was awaiting him. The event had gone on in your absence and the room was full to the brim with Supes and people kissing their asses.

There was no rush to his step as he proudly displayed you to everyone who could see, stopping to say hello and make pleasant, drawn out introductions to seemingly anyone who asked. His arm maintained its hold around your waist the entire time, his fingers occasionally pressing harder into you. The purple hickeys decorating your neck and shoulders went unnoticed by none.

By the time you made it to the center of the room it was time for him to give his speech, and he made sure to give your side a brief squeeze before leaving you next to The Deep…one of the only idiots he still felt he truly had control of. His eyes connected perfectly with camera after camera as he monologued for several minutes about the honor it was to protect New York City. When it was clear he was wrapping things up he stepped to the edge of the stage in front of you, his eyes meeting yours once more as he tapped your nose.

“Mostly, I have to say the best part about the job is getting to save the beautiful people of this city,” he practically cooed, his gloved hand cupping your face in a gesture that caused the cameras around you to flash and several voices to "aw."

There were immediately noticeable perks to being this close to Homelander, and even you couldn’t ignore him. People were more respectful to you, and consistently prepared to shower you with compliments at his prompt – “Doesn’t she look so lovely tonight?”. Men kept their eyes anywhere away from anywhere that wasn’t your face, afraid what offering true appreciation toward you would bring unto them. You were constantly brought snacks on trays to choose from and had three glasses of champagne before he decided to cut you off.

“I don’t need my golden girl sloppy for me tonight,” he tutted quietly, leaning from behind you so his mouth nearly connected with your ear. You could hear the smile in his voice that formed when your heart rate picked up and goosebumps decorated your skin. “I hope you haven’t forgotten that I’m not done with you.”

It was only a mere two hours before he decided it was time for the two of you to leave. It took a considerable amount of back and forth between the two of you before he conceded to allow you to take a car back to your place. As he helped you into the back of the SUV with a hand on the small of your back he pressed a firm kiss to the side of your head, leaning in to buckle you into the seat. His voice was once again lower, free of the light lilt he used to be camera ready.

“You know,” just those two words dripped with sarcasm and you knew whatever was to follow would match. “You’d be safer flying with me than driving around in these big metal death boxes. Some junkie could hit you with a truck…and what, you really think I’m going to drop you?”

A soft laugh fell from his lips before he pressed a final kiss to your forehead, withdrawing from the car before taking off into the sky. Finally alone you released a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, laying your head back and closing your eyes as you soaked in these moments alone, processing the evening. The more familiar your surroundings became the more your worries grew, remembering what he had promised to do. Your heart was pounding by the time you stepped out of the car, the cool air sending a chill down your spine.

From the sidewalk you could see the silhouette of Homelander standing on your rooftop, awaiting your arrival with his arms crossed firmly behind his back. You were certain he could hear you as you made your way inside, leaning against the wall of the elevator and preparing yourself for what awaited you – not that anything could really prepare you for what awaited you. When you exited the elevator and rounded the corner toward your apartment you nearly froze at the sight of your door wide open, his star-spangled back waiting for you in the doorway already.

When you approached the doorway yourself he finally turned, his eyebrows pulled together and his mouth set in a hard line. The annoyance in his voice was evident, and now that you were truly alone his voice was free of any mask. As you closed the door his right hand raised, the necklace he had sent to you dangling from his fingertips, his gloves having been placed on one of your counters.

“I wished this was on you all night,” his voice rumbled in your ears as he stepped closer to you, circling around you much like a predator. As he stepped around behind you he brushed your hair away from your neck, placing himself right up against your backside. “Hold up your hair so I can see how perfect you could have looked.”

Your cheeks burned hot as you reached behind yourself to lift your hair into your hand, your fingers shaking lightly with the nervousness of the situation. The metal of the necklace was cool against your skin as he placed the delicate chain around your neck, fastening it with little fuss. His hands slid across your shoulders and down your arms before turning you to face him, his eyes eagerly dragging downward toward your chest.

His hands reached to grasp your hips, pulling you forward toward him with a hum of approval as he soaked in the experience that was you wearing exactly what he wanted and already covered by purple hickeys from him. Lowering his head he crashed his lips into yours, grasping you tighter as if he feared you may try to stop him – not that you could. Your lips were still tender and lightly bruised from your earlier kisses and yet you pushed yourself to return his kiss, unwilling to leave him feeling rejected.

As his tongue worked your lips open one of his hands slid to work the zipper to your dress, eager to see you on full display for him again. As he tasted the remnants of champagne and chocolate on your tongue the dress fell to the floor, making up for you removing your heels by lifting you to his height with ease. As he pulled away from the kiss he released another hum of approval at the warmth of your body even through his suit – but it wasn’t enough.

Taking a few steps further into your apartment he placed you on the kitchen island, spreading your thighs when you instinctively closed them. His voice was firm, commanding, and somehow laced with desperation as he took a few steps away from you, beginning to remove his suit. “That bra and those panties better be off by the time I make my way back over there…” he huffed out, his eyes now cloudy with lust as he watched your fingers immediately set in on the task.

When you released your breasts from their restraints and tossed the fabric to the side you noticed how his hands faltered, his breath catching at the full sight of your breasts accompanied by the necklace hanging just above them. Running his eyes down you again he removed his own boots, lifting the torso of his suit up and off with slight hesitation.

He hadn’t been barred to you this way before and he caught the way your breath caught in your throat and your heart rate skipped momentarily at the sight of him. The way your body responded to him was a sweet compliment, but it wasn’t enough to satisfy the need he had to hear everything you were thinking. It was impossible to mask the desperation in his voice as he barked out another order to you, his voice slightly breathless.

“Tell me what you think,” he begged, his blue eyes meeting yours as he worked his boots off, kneeling as he did so. It ended up being the perfect height for him to receive the beautiful view that was presented by you removing your panties and tossing them across the apartment. “About how I look without the suit.”

Feeling self conscious about how exposed you were to him as he stood up and dragged his eyes across your body you moved to play with your hair, aware covering yourself would make him angry. His hands moved to work his pants free from his body as you bit your lip, your cheeks heating up as he truly started to just look like a normal guy, albeit an incredibly attractive one. His eyebrows beginning to pull together again was your cue that you were taking too long to respond.

“You’re…a very attractive man, Homelander,” you breathed out, an unfamiliar tone of submission filling your voice. His pants dropped to the floor at your words and his cock sprang free, giving a slight twitch at your compliment. Your eyes met his and with that simple look you knew what you’d given wasn’t enough. At the same time, you found yourself unable to give more, unsure what words would be enough for him and still figuring out how to navigate around him.

Resorting to a more universal language you beckoned him forward, your hands seeking out the firm muscles on his biceps to pull him closer to you as you placed a soft, experimental kiss to his chest. Tilting your head barely backward, your eyes sought his to find his filled with hunger, his hands finding your shoulders to hold you closer. Leaning downward he placed a firm kiss to your forehead which instantly buried your worries that you weren’t doing enough, only to have them reignited as he pulled you from the counter, carrying you across your apartment. You assumed he was headed toward your bed, but as he approached your desk and sat your ass against the cool glass top you were quickly reminded of his real reason for being here.

The podcast.

Sinking into the chair you’d spent so many hours of your life in he clicked your computer to life as his eyes scanned every inch of your torso that he was granted access to earlier in the evening. Keeping his right hand on the computer mouse he reached his other hand lazily to your chest, cupping one of your breasts and rubbing his thumb over the nipple as he pulled up various websites – your website, your YouTube channel, Twitter, and the DropBox you kept everything stored in. Once satisfied he had everything on the screen he needed he pulled you closer to the edge of the desk, sliding the chair to the side to sit in front of you.

He hadn’t gotten the proper opportunity to showcase to you exactly how much he appreciated your breasts, and decided the podcast could wait just a few minutes longer while he took this moment to do so. His hands – almost lovingly – slid up your stomach to eventually cup both of your breasts, an appreciative hum rumbling in his chest at the feeling of the soft tissue beneath his fingertips. Satisfied that he couldn’t fit them in his hands fully he began to knead into them lightly eyes seeking yours again.

His mouth pressed hot and wet kisses down the space between your breasts before he turned, eagerly taking your already hardened nipple into his mouth and circling the nub with his tongue. With a moan he began suckling, rolling your other nipple between his fingers in his other hand. He continued his attention on your breasts for a few moments before pulling his mouth away, dragging your nipple between his teeth as he did so. His voice was desperate, unhinged, and a tone you had only heard him use for you – in a way, it was special, and you recognized it as such.

“Come here, you remarkable little -” he tried to purr before he cut himself off, forgetting his intended term as he chose to suck a purple mark into the side of your breast, easing the brief pain with a light brush of his tongue across the skin.

Grasping his cock in his hand he motioned for you to come to him, which you found yourself almost eager to oblige. Climbing into his lap to straddle him you found the head of his cock slipped into you almost with ease as you were already embarrassingly wet from the attention he had been providing you with. A sinful groan slipped past his lips as your walls welcomed him in again, both hands grasping your hips to steady you.

“So fucking tight,” he practically whined, lowering his face into your neck to make an attempt at covering such a pathetic noise. As you accepted inch by inch of him again another whine left his chest and his teeth brushed against the hollow of your neck before you’d taken all of him, his well-trimmed curls brushing against your clit. When he was completely inside you he reached behind you to press play on one of the podcast episodes, using his other hand to hold you still. He chuckled at your feeble attempt to move your hips against his, forgetting for a moment who was holding you. “I wish I could fuck you, sweetheart, but…we have to take care of this podcast first, don’t we? I wish we didn’t, but we do.”

You whined and stilled your attempt at movements as your eyes met his, a small nod giving him enough of a response at the current moment. Bringing your hands up to his shoulders you clutched to him, prepared to raise yourself off of him at his instruction. Another chuckle left his lips as he shook his head, his hand holding you down to him. His voice, while still low and desperate, was now full of affection and adoration as he spoke to you.

“Oh no, baby…you’re staying right here, with me inside of you…feels too good,” he breathed out deep, leaning forward so your foreheads connected in a moment of what at any other time would be considered intimacy. Now, however, your own voice was filling your ears from the speakers of your computer, an episode of the podcast you’d made months ago playing in the background. “But you’re going to apologize for all of these mean things you’ve said about me.”

Almost on cue your voice from the past said words you remembered saying well – “Homelander is everything wrong with superheroes.” His eyes were pained as he heard the words once again, his head shaking. To his surprise, he didn’t even have to prompt the words from you.

“I’m sorry, Homelander,” you breathed out quietly, closing your eyes tightly and anticipating an explosion from him as he withdrew his forehead from yours. With firm and swift movements he pushed your head against his shoulder, his fingers lacing into your hair to hold you against him as he focused his attention on deleting content.

It went on like that for over an hour, with him inside you, holding you closely and playing clips of your own words while you apologized to him with words, gentle kisses, and soft caresses. Eventually, there was only one episode left – and you recognized the episode from the title alone when he read it aloud.

“This is what confuses me, darling,” he stated plainly, pulling your hair slightly to tilt your head back to fix your gaze on his. His other hand pressed play as his icy eyes met yours once again, his eyebrows furrowed in genuine confusion. “In parts of your podcast you say some really intelligent, hard-hitting stuff.”

“If there’s anyone on this planet who is a bigger fraud than Homelander it is Stan Edgar himself, who should absolutely be looked at for a litany of legal and ethical issues – yet somehow manages to live above everyone.”

“I was so proud of you the first time I heard you say that,” his words were genuine, the look in his eyes matching the tone as he brought one hand up to cup your cheek. He paused the podcast for a moment to brush his thumb across your cheek, his movements slow and intentional. “How could you possibly say something so intelligent, so brave for someone with no powers…only to follow it up with something as cruel as this.”

He didn’t need to press play for you to know the words you were about to hear from yourself.

“I do have to say that some days I just feel bad…because Homelander is definitely the result of someone who wasn’t hugged enough as a child.”

As soon as that phrase was done he pressed delete, removing the last of the official evidence of your podcast from the internet. His eyes stayed on yours and you noticed how his features twitched involuntarily, a trait that seemed to happen when he was attempting to cover an annoyance. Was there an apology that could suffice for that one?

“Homelander, I -”

“Shut up,” it was firm, unquestionable and even slightly threatening as he stood from the chair, keeping his hold on you steady so his cock remained buried in you as he made his way to your bed. To your surprise he laid on his back, allowing you to straddle his waist and lean over him. His eyes immediately went to your breasts, his tongue darting out to slicken his lips. “Do you want to apologize to me?”

“Yes,” your response was pathetically fast and little more than a whine, eager to do anything to take the edge off of his voice again. You would have never guessed his next words, nor would you have expected the dripping desperation in his tone.

“Use my cock to come,” he whined, his hands now eagerly grabbing for your breasts to pull you closer, his mouth seeking the soft flesh of your breasts again. His face was mostly hidden by the flesh of your breasts as he ran his tongue over one of your nipples, his voice barely audible as he begged in a way he had done for so few in his life. “Please, take what you want just…tell me how good I am.”

Finally free to move as you pleased you immediately ground your waist down into his, moaning at the feeling of him finally moving inside you slightly. With a moan of his own he took the nipple he’d yet to pay attention to into his mouth, suckling eagerly and stealing a glance up into your face. As the two of you reached orgasms together, his eyes rolling back as his hands grasped your hips in an impossibly hard grasp, his hot seed painting your inner walls like his own personal art display. Finally releasing his mouth from your breast he whined quietly as his head leaned against your chest, soaking in a true moment of comfort. He had only experienced a few moments like these in his life, but this one was the most authentic, the most unscripted, and Homelander resigned himself to having at least a thousand more moments like these.

You had a new routine to get used to over the following weeks, and by the time December came around there was no leaving your apartment without the flash of cameras or strangers pretending they knew you. It was often too much, the attention and niceties you were paid everyday by people who weeks ago would never have paid any mind to you overwhelming you and making you wish for a moment to yourself. If you were lucky, Homelander would show up in these moments and instruct those around you to “stop their fussing”, adding another entry onto the perks of being with Homelander list.

In these beginning weeks he was being kind enough to allow you your own space still, and you had continued to sleep at your apartment, though it was seldom alone. Which is why when he told you that you’d be alone for two weeks while he accompanied a politician to Europe, it was almost panic-inducing to think about 14 days without him, and what that would mean for you. It wasn’t surprising when he instructed you that you’d spend the time in his apartment, which you had only briefly stopped into once thus far. He promised Ashley or The Deep would check-in on you daily and that you’d have everything you needed (except for him).

The night before he left he had displayed a moment of fear and weakness for you again, this time choosing to act out the frustration by fucking you so hard on his couch you’d be forced to stay in Vought Tower for at least a couple of days. For the first three days he was rewarded for his efforts during your nightly calls to hear that you’d really stayed in his apartment thus far, lounging on the couch and whining that he’d bruised you with his “super dick” – you could hear the smile and pride in his voice at your words, though you hardly meant them as a compliment. On the fourth day you were in better spirits, and had apparently invited The Deep to stay around for dinner – it was the first time Homelander had been forced to feel jealous over you.

“Well, I guess you don’t need me to come home, then,” he tried to cover the pain in his voice with indifference, though at this point he couldn’t get away with that with you. Still, his pride insisted he try. “I guess you prefer The Deep’s company, hmm? You replaced me quickly.”

“There is no replacement for you, Homelander,” you’d cooed, instantly soothing over the insecurity he felt and reassuring him that he had truly won you. There was no fighting the smile that spread on his face as you giggled, continuing with your kindness toward him. “As if The Deep could ever compare to you – as if anyone could come close to you.”

That particular phone call had stretched out to over an hour of you giving into his need for reassurance, filling the passing time with compliments and wishes that he would come home – filling the passing time with whatever he needed. Thus far, you had mostly managed to avoid driving him too far to anger, and he did reward you lavishly by ensuring you continued to want for nothing. The phone call ended with you confirming you were still sore from your last morning together, which had made his cock twitch in his pants.

After a week of you still feeling sore he was beginning to worry that he may have taken it a bit too far, and had even nearly expressed such when you whined on the phone to him once again, but insisted that you would be fine. For one of the first times in his life Homelander was genuinely worried about someone, and opted to call you on the ninth day much earlier than he had thus far. He expected you to sound surprised, yes, but he didn’t expect you to not be in his apartment – and he especially didn’t expect you to not be alone.

The voice he heard in the background of the phone call was clearly a man, and he was telling you he hoped you’d feel much better now. Despite the fact that Homelander desperately wanted to hear your voice he had hung up the phone immediately, leaving the boring, old ass building he was stationed in for the remainder of his trip to launch himself into the sky, his only focus returning to you – Vought and the entire U.S. government be damned. Seeing as you couldn’t get Homelander to answer your return call, you figured he must have gotten busy and had returned back to his apartment once your afternoon of errands was complete, intent on finally relaxing.

When he landed on the main balcony attached to his own apartment the sun had set, and yet none of the anger boiling within him had subsided. He stilled for a moment, focusing his ears on the sounds he could hear from inside. On the surface there was enough going on for him to know you were inside – a record from the 50s he recognized from you playing it before, the sounds of water filling a tub…you were inside relaxing in his apartment after having the audacity to betray him. Focusing deeper, he finally heard your heartbeat – alone – and the soothing rhythmic beat he’d grown to recognize and adore over the last few weeks nearly calmed him. Nearly.

Forcing the door open he stepped inside, his anger nearly faltered once more at the lingering smell of you overwhelmed him. Hearing the broken door had caused you to rise from the filling bath, turning the water off and clutching a towel around yourself as you walked with wet feet into the dark hallway, calling out a soft ‘hello’ into the night. You weren’t greeted with words – instead, from the darkness emerged two glowing red lights, and as they approached closer you backed yourself against a wall.

The red glow against his features, all of which were hard set in clear annoyance and anger, made you remember the horrible things he was capable of, none of which you were equipped to handle. When you realized there was nowhere left for you to step, you closed your eyes, holding a deep breath as you prepared for whatever was to come. When you felt him in front of you you were certain your heart would burst, until you felt his hand on your cheek, and heard the pain behind his voice.

“Who is the man you were with today? And don’t you dare fucking lie to me,” his fingertips dug into your skin lightly, your eyes still closed tight for fear you’d be met with glowing red. “I’ll know if you’re lying to me. Look at me.”

With an elevating heart rate you slowly forced your eyes open, and despite expecting your own pain, instead you were faced with his. His blue eyes were wide, contrasting to the harsh line of his mouth, and tears were threatening to spill down his cheeks. Where you had expected to find anger and harshness you were faced with the broken pieces of him, which only raised a further question – which was worse between his red-hot anger or his jagged, broken edges?

You began to raise your hands to his shoulders tentatively, your fingers shaking as your brain screamed at you to just stay still and answer him. Honesty, however, was not the only thing Homelander needed – he needed love, and the look behind his eyes proved it to you. This was him – the real him. The realization that you were wearing his necklace had helped level his head somewhat – but the sternness in his features let you know you needed to answer, quickly.

“The man you heard in the background was the pharmacist,” your voice was soft, hands settling on the sides of his neck lightly in the hopes that skin-to-skin contact would settle him further. “I went to the gynecologist this morning because I was still…sore. From the morning you left.”

His features noticeably softened, a new look of curiosity forming on his features that pulled his eyebrows together slightly. So far, he was content that you were being honest – but you weren’t giving him enough information, either, and the annoyance that lingered was evident in his voice. “Did the doctor have an answer for you?”

Nodding, you hesitantly reached up to lace your fingers in his hair with one hand, your eyes cautiously watching his every reaction. Still, you held strong and continued your commitment to answering his questions – despite the fact this was information you had initially planned to keep from him.

“I…we…you,” you breathed out carefully, choosing the words for your explanation carefully. “You…broke my birth control implant…probably that morning based on when the pain started. It had to be removed and so…they prescribed pain medication for a few days.”

It was impossible to miss the hunger that flashed in his eyes, or the low rumble to his voice. “And did they replace it? The implant?”

“No.”

His hand left your cheek and he took a step back from you to drag his eyes down your body. Aware that meant he was likely being invasive and using x-ray vision to see for himself you suddenly felt incredibly embarrassed, and your cheeks burned red to emphasize the fact. When his eyes met yours again he was pulling the gloves away from his hands, tossing them to a nearby surface so he could step close to you again and cradle your face with his bare hands.

For a moment his eyes expressed only conflict as they burned into yours, his fingertips digging a little too deeply into your skin as he analyzed the conversation – as he thought about his feelings. Moments of silence passed before his emotions seemed to land on entirely new territory – new territory for you, at least. His thumbs tenderly brushed along your cheek bones, his grasp lightening as an almost sinister smile spread across his face.

“So exactly what is going to stop me,” he started, leaning forward to brush the tip of his nose against yours lightly. You were keenly aware that he was being entirely too nice. “From getting you pregnant?”

A shaky breath slid past your lips as he placed a light kiss to the corner of your mouth, sliding one of his hands down to take hold of the towel that was wrapped around you. Your voice was embarrassingly small. “I guess...you’ll have to…to use a condom or pull out?”

A deep laugh burst through his chest that rumbled against your own torso now that he was flush against you, his lips kissing a small trail to your ear where he pulled the lobe between his teeth for a moment before growling out a quiet, “No.”

One swift movement from his hand and the towel was on the floor, goosebumps immediately forming across your skin at the cool air. With a hum of approval at your lack of covering now he turned his head, connecting his lips to yours in a starved kiss. It was nature now for your lips to part for him and allow his tongue entry, and the two of you shared a heated kiss until you were breathless as he carried you to a room you’d yet to see, as you had spent your time in his apartment in a guest room – his bedroom.

“You were supposed to be gone for five more days,” you breathed against his lips, working some of the few buttons on his suit that you’d grown to understand. Pushing you onto an oversized bed with satin sheets, he began to work at his own suit, a cocky smirk covering his face.

“If you think I’m going to stay away when I hear another man in the background on my girl’s phone…you must not know me very well,” he shook his head as his boots were kicked to the side, his movements a little more desperate and uncalculated than they’d previously been with you. When his pants were pushed to the floor he continued. “You’ve got another thing coming, doll.”

His torso took too long to free and by the time he was climbing onto the bed with you he was starved, desperate to devour any part of you his mouth could connect to. His lips pressed firm and intentional kisses along the insides of your thighs as he made his way to your sweet core. Running a stripe through your folds with his tongue his eyes searched for yours as his hands reached to caress your breasts, a quiet hum vibrating your skin as a moan left your lips.

It was truly as if he hadn’t eaten for days, his tongue thoroughly swiping along every inch you had to offer, savoring every drop of arousal that came across his tongue, alternating to suck your clit softly. He hadn’t been this hungry for you until now, and it took him no time to cause a rising heat to build in your core. Your fingers found their way into his hair and you threw your head back as he began to fuck into you with his tongue, moaning in appreciation at the noises you made for him.

His way of thanking you for not needing the instruction to come against his tongue was to slip a finger into you, curling it right against your tender spot deep within as you threw your head back for him. “ Oh, god… ”

Sucking your clit into his mouth once more with a sinful noise his eyes found yours once more as he leaned back, grasping his cock in his hand. “No, not god,” he breathed, beginning to stroke himself in preparation for you. He leaned down to press a tender kiss to your lips, his eyes closing as he rubbed the head of his cock against your opening. His voice was hardly above a whisper against your lips as he began to slip inside of you. “Not god, not Homelander…John.”

You moaned out his name for the first time, and he clutched to your sides as he forced himself to behave tenderly and slowly with you, aware that you must still be sore. Burying his face in your neck to place soft kisses he eased in inch by inch until he was fully within you, finding the comfort that only you could bring him. For a moment he stilled, enjoying the feeling of simply being encompassed by your warm walls, before he slowly, lazily began dragging his hips back and forth.

He hadn’t been rhythmic like this with you before, his movements always thought out well in advance for the maximum impact. Now, however, his movements only aimed to bask in this moment with you, this moment where he could truly claim you for the first time in his mind. Lifting your hips and wrapping your legs around his waist to beckon him deeper you found yourself unable to do little more than moan his name and claw at his back.

Trying impossibly to push into you deeper he held you against him, leaning down to suckle one of your nipples into his mouth as his movements picked up some speed. As he flicked his tongue over your nipple his blue eyes gazed adoringly up into your own, grinding against you to hit that perfect spot deep within you. You rewarded him for his effort by moaning out his name again and clenching your walls ever-so-slightly tighter, but he was greedy for everything you had – and he needed more.

“Please,” was all he could beg you for, his hands grasping at your hips as he tried to do anything he could to pull you closer. His lips reached for yours in a wet, heated kiss which he cut shorter than he truly wanted to await your response.

“I missed you inside of me so much,” you whined, meeting a couple of his thrusts by raising your hips at the same time, moving one hand to the back of his head. Pulling your head back slightly you were able to take in the sight of his sweat-slicked, messy hair and the way his lips were parted slightly. Seeing him this way, in a way you knew could only truly be for you, added a new depth to the dynamic between the two of you – and though for you that could go unspoken, for him, hearing it was everything. “Want…want you like this every day.”

His fluid movements were coaxing another orgasm from you and your words could hardly leave as more than strangled whines, but you had given him everything he needed and in a sign of appreciation he picked up his speed. Normally, he only restrained himself enough to not completely break you, but tonight he was truly making an effort to reign in his strength and make sure his thrusts were enjoyable for the both of you, and you could tell.

His grunts confirmed that this worked for him, too, and it wasn’t terribly long before your legs were shaking around him, a second orgasm rushing through your body. When he felt your walls tighten around him as you rode out your high by thrusting sloppily up into him he could barely restrain himself, knowing that his own release was chasing yours.

“Tell me…tell me that you want my cum,” he moaned, burying his face in your neck in preparation of being unable to hold back anymore. All you could manage in your fucked-out buzz was was a quiet ‘yes’ and a kiss to the top of his head as his orgasm rushed through him, painting your inner walls white with hot ropes of cum.

When he was certain both of you had finished your orgasms he slowly removed himself from you, laying on his side next to you to keep his gaze transfixed on your bliss-filled face as you returned to earth. With your eyes closed, you had no visual warning when his fingers slipped back to your core, his middle finger pushing the cum that was leaking from you back inside. When your eyes flew open in question he leaned over to place a soft kiss to your lips, leaning his forehead against yours in a moment of intimacy.

When he was satisfied with the amount of times he’d repeated this motion he left only long enough to get a towel for you, tenderly wiping your legs and discarding the towel before crawling back into the bed next to you. Laying his head on your chest he closed his eyes as you began running your fingers through his hair, enjoying a rare true moment of peace. Eventually, he pulled you to roll you to your side, his hand finding its way to your cheek again.

“I would like…” he started, clearly having been deciding on his words for several of the quiet moments that had passed between the two of you. Sliding the hand that was on your cheek back into your hair and running his fingers through the strands gently he continued on, his normal confidence wavering slightly. “I would like for you to call this home.”

masterlist.

#the homelander #homelander #homelander x reader #homelander x you #homelander smut #homelander fanfiction #the boys smut #the boys fanfiction

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moonpascaltoo · 2 months ago

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DARYL DIXON ╰┈➤ 18+ none of these stories belong to me! this is a masterlist of all daryl dixon stories i’ve read and reblogged! just thought it would be nice to have them all in one spot! (if your fic is on here and you wish not to be, let me know <3)

MASTERLIST • THE WALKING DEAD • 11/30/24

@nervoushottee ✰ it happened quiet What you and Daryl have is a soft quiet love. ✰ night shift You keep Daryl company on a night watch

@xoxo-sarah ✰ my wife

@mvth3r ✰ untitled 5 times daryl feels your affection down to his core and the many 1 time he unconsciously returns the favor ✰ drabble thinking about daryl giving you a nickname…

@r6eduss ✰ listen before i go Daryl leaves with Merle without thinking how it would affect you.

@optimist-pine ✰ bodyguard You need a bath, but there's no way you're going alone ✰ eloquence

@lunajay33 ✰ migraine You get frequent migraines but they’ve been mia since the apocalypse but even since you got to the farm they’ve returned but you didn’t wanna bother anyone until Daryl finds you balled up on the floor in pain

@hidtired ✰ poison for some Your deathly allergic to nuts and dinner in the prison leaves you running for medicine. Your abrupt departure confuses everyone, until your partner Daryl remembers of your allergies. Now it was 24 hours and you were no where to be found. ✰ miles away A last minute trip leaves you separated from your fiancé when the world ends. Years of travel inevitably returns you to him. But years out in the world causes change.

@daryldove ✰ shower thoughts, water falls

@secretlovezz ✰ kiss me while you and Daryl are out on a run feelings are disruptively revealed

@holdmytesseract ✰ approaches When Andrea mistakes Daryl for a walker and shots him, you are here to take care of the injured archer; causing the both of you to get closer...

@maggie-atwood ✰ last night on earth During your time with the Atlanta Camp, you form an unlikely friendship with the younger Dixon brother. When the group finds their way to the CDC, you feel safe enough to push past the lines of just friends.

@darylssunshine ✰ caring

@mystic-writings ✰ ink on skin daryl gave up on the concept of soulmates long ago, even with the words marked on his wrist. and then he found you.

@dixons-sunshine ✰ no-nonsense ✰ i found you When the dead started to rise and the world went to hell, Daryl got seperated from you, the love of his life. After over a year of searching for you and finding no evidence of your survival, Daryl was beginning to give up and count his losses. One day, Carol stumbled upon a wounded woman while out on a run with Glenn, and the two of them decide to accept you into the prison. Little did they know, that would end up being one of the best decisions they could've ever made.

@metanoiahh ✰ get off my back A great fascination for the youngest Dixon took over you ever since the Quarry. Daryl notices and in fear of reciprocating your feelings, he continuously pushes you away. After Andrea shoots him, you don’t leave his side with the excuse of keeping an eye on him.

@collecting-stories ✰ bitch You throw some choice words Andrea’s way as she heads out into the woods with Daryl, partially because you hate her and partially because you’re jealous.

@emswritingsstuff ✰ home at last After being left on the roof with Merle, you're separated from Daryl. ✰ quite badass

@theteasetwrites ✰ soft spot part 2 Daryl finds his lady love injured in the woods after being separated, and everyone is surprised to find not only that Daryl has a girlfriend, but that he's very, very soft for her. ✰ protector A one-night stand with your brother's best friend, Shane, proves to be more trouble than it was worth when he develops a bit of a worrisome obsession with you, and your friend and confidant, Daryl, isn't too happy about it.

@violettwrites ✰ the fall daryl loses you during the start of the apocalypse, and then he finds you again.

@daryltwdixon ✰ request A drunk Daryl grows uncharacteristically shy around you, forgetting for a moment that you're together.

@weretheones ✰ to the bone You can’t stop shivering and Daryl can’t sleep.

@d1xonss ✰ pretty when i cry

@cultofdixon ✰ shot in the dark Andrea shouldn’t have been on top of that RV and shouldn’t have fired. She asked for what happened next ✰ i found yea, bunny Never did he think he’d find anyone to love him, then when someone did. The world ended ✰ vocalize whats inside Risking your life countless times for someone who doesn’t notice, only for you to realize it was never one sided ✰ falling for you...wasn't meant to hurt The two of you grew close because the universe thought you were meant to be. But Daryl agreeing to let you help him find Carol’s daughter, he didn’t expect anything bad to happen

@multific ✰ a new start Daryl loved the nights, this was the only time he could see you again.

@sukunasbow ✰ childhood friends in which you reunite with your childhood friend, only for him to underestimate your value in the current state of the world.

@magicalqueennightmare ✰ back me You and Daryl form a friendship at the quarry camp

@darylsgirl ✰ there ain't no competition darlin reader has feelings for Daryl. And one Day Daryl brings an injured girl from the woods to the prison and becomes really close with her, which hurts the readers feelings. Also make the ending of your choice

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon twd #daryl dixon walking dead #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon fic recs #the walking dead #twd x reader

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saturnxlust · 9 months ago

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Age Gap

Van der linde gang x Fem!Reader

Dutch Van Der Linde

He def goes for younger girls

He looks like the type

You caught his eye with your outfits

Hes 44 but i feel like he wouldnt want a age gap over 10 years

If you got the courage to make the first move he would admire that about you

Definitely sweet talks you about being a smart girl

Lord the amount of praise this son of a bitch would give you could boost even arthur ego

Def a sugar daddy, before the events of black water

After he would try his best but he left most of his money behind in his old house

Arthur Morgan

He isnt that old but he def wouldnt go over 5 years

He finds it odd and repects his women too much

This is the man to go to if you want a sugar daddy

He will gladly spoil you with all the money he loots from dead O’driscols

He also gives out praise but thats just the man he is

If hes not complimenting you and how stunning you are 24/7 he feels like a awful person

He would so totally call you his “sweet baby” or “babydoll”

If you wear pink dresses he’d definitely be wrapped around your little finger

If not and your more of a streatwear person he’d loose his mind at low rise or cami tops

Again you’d have him wrapped around your finger immediately

John Marston

Hes definitely not old and would NOT go under 4 years😭

This guys only 26

Hes not a sugar daddy

Sorry babe

But he thinks your cute

He def likes girls with a attitude

Just look at abigal for christs sake

He was married to her😭

He would try to be good for you

Wanting to take you and run off into the sunset, but he couldnt leave dutch like that

Not after everything dutch had done for him

You would have to get along with jack to even be on johns radar (sorry🥲)

He wants you as soon as your motherly to jack

He talks to arthur about you

He calls you “sweet girl” and “doll” in that gravily voice

Hes incredible, really

Hosea Matthews

Okay well hes old😅

Def a sugar daddy

I mean have you seen him?

He goes for at least 10-12 years younger 😍

After bessie he really didnt think he’d fall in love again but when you came in twirling you hair and giggling he’d be a teenager all over again

You could ask him to shoot the man next to him for no reason and he’d do it

Hes quite literally wrapped around your finger

I say that because he would not leave you alone

Constantly holding you and treating you to gifts and fancy things

He once bought you a diamond necklace in saint denis

Whether you protested or not is up to you

He doesnt let you out of his sight and will not stop rambling to dutch about you

Dutch is too tired and crazy to deal with hosea and sends him your way to obsess over you😊

Sean MacGuire

The belief is hes mid 20’s so im gonna say 25

He definitely is like john and goes for 3 years younger

But i see him as the type to like older women cough cough mary cough

He likes the contrast of him being a stupid asshole and you being a sweet little thing

He trys his best with money but like john has very little so if he buys you something its usually something small

Though he never really feels accomplished after he gets you something small

So he saves for a long time and buys you something a little bigger like a silver necklace or a nice bracelet

His accent gets in the way of things sometimes but he will call you “sweet thing” though it sounds more like “sweet ting”😭

Love him though

Javier Escuella

Another baby of the gang🫶🫶

Hes 26 so he goes for the same range as john

He also doesnt have much money and buys you small things

But he makes it up by calling you endearing nick names

“Mi amor” “dulce nina” “Querida”

You get the point

“Ojalá pudiera comprarte más mi amor pero debes saber que esto es de mi corazón”

I love him sm

He would sugar daddy you if he could

Probably gets upset when he cant buy you things

If your family is rich he refuses your offers of giving him money

It doesnt feel right to have a sweet girl like you give him money when he should be the one providing

It gets him upset to see you want something he knows he cant afford

Has lowkey thought about robbing a very rich man cough cough braithwates cough to buy you things

When on the boat if you go with them he keeps an eye on you

Not liking the scene already, older predatory men being all around you made him extremely uncomfortable

He doesnt want to tell you what to do he always wants it to be your choice but it scares him that he cant really do anything to protect you

Though if it was dire enough he woukd throw the whole plan down the drain to cut open a older guy that got too power hungry and grabbed you

“No te lastimó, ¿verdad, querida?.”

Charles Smith

Hes not as young but doesnt go for under 5 years

Hes got some money to buy small things every now and again

He calls you “baby” and “little girl” alot no matter the age gap

It could only be a few months and he still would💔

He shows you how to hunt and stuff as bonding

He sees killing a deer together and bringing it back to pearson as romantic

But he still takes you on dates

When he can

Hes usually on watch duty as he is literally a unit of a man

This kid is huge

Around 6’6 and 240 pounds

Dwarfs even the biggest of guys, yes even arthur😭

Josiah Trelawny

Trelawny the man you are😍

Hes definitely rich

He has a house with his wife in saint denis

He is quite old so I imagine no more then 10 years difference

He calls you “darling” and “sweet girl” in that trans Atlantic accent

He definitely spoils you rotten

Only the best for his sweet girl

He takes a lot of time to take care of you as well

He doesnt spend time with the gang and only pops up when they need him for things like stealing from rich people

He never lets you pay

Are you kidding

He’d rather die then have you pay for something

Thats a little dramatic but i know he would never feel good about himself ever again if he got to a point where you had to pay

Like what do you mean he doesnt have enough money

No no darling put yours away papa trelawny will have a sweet little chat with the man trying to embarrass him infront of his woman

“YES I HAVE ENOUGH MONEY ARE YOU INSANE, no dear its okay you dont need to pay. BACK TO YOU DONT YOU EVER-“

Obviously there are ones i didnt put in here like micah, pearson, uncle, lenny ect. I dont know enough about them nor do i like most of them (except for lenny i love him sm)

#red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #dutch van der linde x reader #hosea matthews x reader #sean macguire #charles smith #javier escuella x reader #josiah trelawny #john marston x reader

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autumnmobile12 · 4 months ago

Text

Ambush Simulation: Final War

“I swear if we die before laying a scratch on him, I’m going to rise from the dead again.”

...

Finally the full view of Touya's hammer, elaborated in this post here. He doesn't use it in The Summer Camp Ambush Simulation fic nor have I actually written anything where it is in use, so I don't actually know when, or if, the hammer will even make an appearance.

All I know is they both look ready to smack a bitch.

Also, super thrilled with how the fire turned out in this one. Tried a new a technique and definitely looks better than my earlier attempt in the original comic Ambush Simulation.

In further evidence that I never fully left the Castlevania fandom, this one is inspired by one of my absolute favorite fighting dynamics/animations of all time: The coordination and cooperation of Slogra and Gaibon. They’re one of the first boss villains you face in the Symphony of the Night video game and I was hella stoked with the Netflix depiction of their iconic fighting style. There's a lot of animation studios that do badass fight scenes, but nobody does fight scenes like Powerhouse Animation.

#my hero academia #dabi #hawks #touya todoroki #keigo takami #dabihawks #castlevania #slogra and gaibon #inspired #boku no hero academia #bnha #mha #castlevania netflix #powerhouse animation #ambush simulation #alternate universe #support gear #final war

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kumkaniudaku · 17 days ago

Text

Amen

Summary: Terry and Patrice learn more about their love through life changing news on New Year’s Eve.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: Mentions of Death

Inspired By: Ask #1 + Ask #2

MASTERLIST

Grief was a bitch.

A mean, ugly, unwanted bitch that had settled beside Terry as an unwelcomed guest just when he thought that he'd banished it out of his life, never to return. Over two years of joy that he'd fought tooth and nail to maintain came crashing down once grief came strolling into town without warning.

Mike was dead. He knew that. He'd reckoned with it, talked himself through the anniversary of his death once before, sent well-wishes to his aunt every time he could, cried in the shadows, mourned, lashed out, and sat in silence with the knowledge that his little cousin would never come through the door again. Mike wouldn't see another birthday. He wasn't around for the wedding or Christmas. They'd never see another football game together. Mike would never meet Nyla.

That fact came as a sobering realization while Terry watched his only daughter's chest rise and fall as she slept peacefully in her crib for the first time all day. A cold running through her daycare had finally latched on to her fresh immune system, turning his usually jovial baby into a shell of herself. He told his higher-ups that he needed to take the day to care for her in his mother-in-law's stead, but what he really needed was time alone to deal with his uninvited guest.

Leaning over the sturdy walnut railing keeping his little girl safely inside her crib, he watched her with the ghost of a smile on his lips. Mike would've loved her. Terry was sure of it. He'd make his way to Fayetteville at any opportunity and cause havoc, probably irritating Patrice but definitely doting on Nyla in a way that only he could.

Tears that had been fighting to see the world all day pricked Terry's eyes yet again. He almost let them fall but found himself blinking them back once Patrice pushed open the door and poked her head inside.

She smiled despite work wearing her thin and waved with her fingers. "Can I come in, or would that be too much?"

"Of course, you can," he answered, trying to put on a brave face to hide the true turmoil inside.

Seeing her stand there, her bright smile directed at him like he was the sun, moon, and stars, was the first time he'd felt anything other than the weight of regret. He needed her to come into the room.

Tiptoeing, Patrice approached Terry and peered over the crib's railing to look at Nyla. "How was she," she whispered before softly touching her forehead to check for heat. "Doin' any better?"

"A little. I got her to eat and play for a bit before the medicine kicked in. She should be out for the night and good enough to sit with your mom by the ceremony on Monday. But, we'll see."

"Good. Thank you for taking the lead. I know she was happy to have you around." She took a second look at her pride and joy, then focused all her attention on Terry. Worry and sadness had found a home on his brow line as they remained furrowed in thought. She leaned her head on his forearm and looked up at him. "And what about my other baby? How was he today?"

The date wasn't lost on Patrice. She noticed when Terry slowly retreated into himself the week before. She saw him looking at Mike's Instagram when he thought she wasn't paying attention. She heard the conversation with his aunt when he promised to come by and see her the next time he could make it to Baton Rouge, even though she knew that time wasn't coming. Every shift in his demeanor and thousand-yard stare showed that he was reliving a hellish time she couldn't protect him from.

No amount of soothing could pull him out of his rut. But that wouldn't stop her from trying.

Terry continued to stare down at Nyla as he answered. "I'm okay. Not too up, not too down."

"You need anything?" Terry didn't respond with words once he finally tore his eyes away from their daughter to look at Patrice. He only shook his head. "Can I give you a hug at least?"

His first dose of physical affection for the day felt like the wind was gently placed back into his lungs as Patrice pulled him closer by his shoulders. His hands found her waist first, giving the spot a short squeeze before allowing his arms to fully encircle her body.

"I love you. You know that?"

"I know." That was the one thing he was sure of. His heart and mind were splintered into a million pieces, but he knew Patrice was there to help him put each one back in their proper place. His lips found her temple for a lingering kiss as he closed his eyes to ward off the sadness, still trying to take center stage. "I, um…I... didn't have a good day today…" Terry struggled with the words, opening and closing his mouth in hopes that something would come out while Patrice listened to him try to articulate his thoughts. A deep breath and closed eyes helped him settle before he spoke. "I could use some time together. Whatever you have tonight, I'll take it. I know you have to be up early tomorrow, so even an hour is –"

His words were cut short by a simple kiss on his cheek. Patrice pulled back to look at him and flashed a reassuring smile. "Give me a few minutes to get changed, and you have me for however long you need me. I'll stay up late and everything. Dasia will understand if I cancel my hair appointment for tomorrow."

"I don't want you to do that."

"We'll play it by ear," she answered to douse the early flames of a disagreement. "Twenty minutes. You can time me."

Terry nodded in understanding and silently agreed to let Patrice out of his sight when he needed her most. Whether she was gone for 30 seconds or three days, the time away felt slow.

Terry tried and quickly tired of distracting himself in Nyla's nursery before quietly slipping out and taking the trek to wait for Patrice like a lost puppy.

He settled into the plush velvet chair in the corner and sighed with the weight of the world on his shoulders. Closed eyes heightened his sense of hearing, giving him full access to Patrice's singing in the shower.

Mike would've loved the Patrice he heard so much about. He'd call her 'big sis' and annoy her the way little brothers do. They'd argue endlessly but still find time for secret handshakes and inside jokes. He'd finally have someone on his side to pester Terry and receive sound advice from when the going got tough. They may have taken him in as their overgrown first child. They could've worked together to get him on the right path and save his life.

Unfortunately, Terry would never know. The not knowing left the door wide open for sadness to creep back in.

He breathed deep and tried to will grief away with Patrice's voice as a lullaby in the background. And for a moment, it complied. The dark, heavy cloud slipped off his back and down to his feet with every exhale, lightening the weight on his arms and shoulders until he felt close to a Terry who was safe, sound, and far from the troubles of his past.

Mike would want that. He'd like to know what Terry had going on as the last person expected to settle down into a family man. He'd probably poke fun at his older cousin for attending birthing classes and fawning over ruffled outfits in Target when what he knew of Terry was brooding, reserved, and quietly menacing. Mike had seen his cousin kick up dust with the worst of them. Seeing Terry as a man who wouldn't so much as cough too loud if his wife or daughter was around would be a sight.

As grief slowly packed its things and headed for the door, his comfort emerged from the steaming bathroom, looking like a lighthouse in a raging storm.

Patrice's humming paused once she noticed Terry sitting in the corner. "Missed me," she teased, drawing a small, dry chuckle from her husband as she made her way to their dresser. "You could've joined if you wanted."

"That's alright. I know you need your time to decompress.” He gestured toward the garment in her hand. “Need help with that?"

She could've put her clothes on with no assistance, but Patrice knew that Terry wouldn't have asked if he didn't need the distraction. She granted his covert request for her attention by quickly plucking matching pieces from her sleepwear drawer and placing them in his outstretched hands.

They spent time in comfortable silence while he slid soft cotton up her legs and then helped her into her shirt, kissing random spots of exposed skin along the way. "I didn't ask about your day. I'm sorry. I got a lot of…other stuff on my mind. How was work?"

"It was work. Nothing too important. Glad it's the weekend. Two more days, and I get to see my first graduating class of freshmen that I taught. Isn't that crazy? I'm getting old, huh?" She laughed by herself.

Terry avoided eye contact despite his faint smile, preferring to tie the drawstring at her waist in a neat bow like she preferred. "Never old. Only better."

"You're too sweet." Patrice cuddled him close when he was done and rubbed a spot at the nape of his neck to soothe him into closing tired, heavy lids. "I know it's tough, but I promise you'll be okay, babe. The sadness isn't gonna go away, but you'll learn to live with it. You'll learn to make space for all those feelings inside you at once. And I'll be here when you need someone else to hold some of them, too."

Terry sighed. "I'm not tryin' to be a burden for you, P. We have enough going on as is."

"You're not a burden, Terry; you're my husband – my friend."

To be accepted with all of the muddy waters traversing his mind and heart felt like too much to ask for in Terry's mind, especially from someone who'd spent so much time wading through all his bullshit without complaint. He owed her his life, the full weight of his love, until the day God deemed their time together but a beautiful memory forever etched in boxed trinkets and old photos.

He wanted to give her the moon as she stood stroking his pain away with her fingertips but settled for kissing his way up her sternum on the way to her lips.

One day, when other emotions had dwindled, and he was feeling more like himself, Terry would lay his head on Patrice's lap and tell her about the atrocities that had shaped the time before they reacquainted. That day wasn't today, and all he could think of was pouring his gratitude for her graciousness into making sure she was satisfied in the one area he could control.

Shorts that had only been on her body for mere minutes found a new home on the floor alongside her top. Patrice was weightless in Terry's arms as he carried her to their shared bed, his lips attached to hers for needy kisses that felt more like life rafts to keep him above rough waters than affectionate gestures.

Patrice questioning if he was sure about his actions fell on deaf ears, and soon, all of her inquiries became lost whispers in a room swirling with the sounds of desperate lovemaking. Terry left his mark on her neck and chest while he worked himself out of his clothes.

His voice came in gravelly against the shell of her ear. "I fuckin' love you, Treece. Don't ever leave me." He was pleading and caught somewhere between raw desire and tremendous despair. "Please, don't ever leave me."

"I'm not going anywhere, baby," Patrice reassured without hesitation.

Terry left soft kisses and big, salty tears on Patrice's cheeks once their foreheads met. "Please. I need you, Patrice." Grief was back and taunting him in his ear with its partner in crime, Doubt. She'll leave, just like everyone else. You don't deserve her. Lies filled his head with no shut-off valve in sight. The tears turned into sobs he couldn't ignore with breathing techniques or a change in his thought process. "I'm sorry. I just need you. I can't do this by myself. Don't leave."

Patrice quickly cast amorous feelings aside to wrap her arms tight around Terry. "Woah, woah, TJ. I'm here! I'm right here."

Grief was a bitch. Even when he threw his best punch at it, grief always hit Terry back with a haymaker that left him staggering and woozy in defeat.

The moments after his heaving, hyperventilating meltdown became a blur of Patrice's soft-spoken instruction, lavender bubble bath, and candlelight. When he came back from a mental trip to Shelby Springs to live out alternate realities, where he emerged victorious with Mike by his side, he found himself nestled between his wife's legs, surrounded by fresh hot water and scented white foam.

Patrice moved behind him, plastic crinkling as she peeled the back off of something he couldn't see before bringing her wet hands around to his face. "These'll help with the puffiness," she declared like an experienced esthetician informing a client. "I used to use this every other day in grad school. Cry all you need. No one will ever know by morning."

A 'thank you' tried to rise from his throat, but Terry quickly found his voice too hoarse to say anything worth a damn. Patrice didn't mind, though. She was content to press another cold patch underneath his eye before grabbing the shampoo rinse cup resting near the baby monitor at the edge of the tub.

Terry closed his eyes as the warm water washed over his short curls, sitting neatly behind a sharp hairline and tapered sides. His hair glistened under flickering lights provided by small flames in glass components. Patrice used her acrylic nails to work magic against his scalp, turning shampoo into a mountain of suds to cleanse the pain.

"I swear every time my Nana and mama scrubbed my head, I felt like a new person after. One time, I was going through the worst friend breakup I've ever had, and by the time Mommy finished with me, I didn't even know that girl's name. Didn't even matter anymore."

"What happens after the scrub, though? You just…go back to normal?"

Patrice chuckled as she ran another stream of water across his head to start on a second lather. "Hell no. That's where the patches come in." Terry allowed himself his first genuine laugh all day, taking a stone out of grief's stronghold. His fingertips ran back and forth over the wet skin on Patrice's legs as he sat with his eyes closed in a battle for his sanity. They let the quiet ripple of water around them fill the humid air in the room, preferring to enjoy the feel of skin on skin over extraneous conversation until Patrice began running conditioner through each of his thick strands. "I love when you wear your hair like this. The haircuts are nice, but when it's grown out, it reminds me of young you."

"Hot-headed, couldn't buckle down enough to work through being mad at not getting scholarships to still go to college me?" Terry scoffed, finding the notion of a younger, far less polished him being someone worth missing.

Patrice shrugged. "I didn't know that Terry," she confessed. The stories of his anger felt like fables to Patrice. The only Terrence Richmond she'd ever known was sweet as homemade banana pudding after Sunday service and a whip-smart boy with the world at his feet. "My Terry and his little fro was always kind. Always noble and lending a helping hand. And now he's got a baby girl in the other room with a head full of her daddy's curls after she looked like Charles Barkley for three months." Terry smiled at the mention of Nyla and how she'd inherited at least one part of him after taking her mother's entire face. Patrice watched him reach for the monitor and bring it closer to his face for a look at his second favorite girl before she continued. "My Terry is who Mike loved. I never met him, but I know he saw the best in you. We all do, baby."

More silence sat heavy as Terry wiped away fresh tears gathering at his waterline. Of course, they'd see the best in him when he couldn't see the best in himself.

Grief came knocking again with Doubt in tow, but Terry ignored them to slide deeper into the water and rest his heavy head on Patrice's chest before speaking. "Mike and me…we used to get in a lot of trouble at my granny's house."

"Yeah? Two badass kids, huh? Tell me about it."

"One time," he started, already smiling at the memory. "We got her beagle, Satchel, sick because we kept feeding him shrimp out of the gumbo. He threw up all over the back porch, and Mike got so scared that he told on us, thinking we wouldn't get the switch if we were honest."

"Did y'all?"

Terry laughed and nodded. "Wore our asses out. I hated that damn dog for the rest of his life. It wasn't his fault, but I was just a kid."

"You knew better, though."

"Whose side are you on right now?" Terry asked, looking up at Patrice with faux offense on his face.

She giggled back. "Okay, my bad!" A final round of water cascaded down Terry's shoulders and back, washing the ugly soot of regret off of his grief to reveal the love making up its inner parts. Patrice kissed his wet hair and held her lips there even as she spoke. "Can you tell me more about Mike? I wanna know him through you."

The invitation erupted a dormant volcano deep within his Terry's heart.

He told stories of his cousin and their time together until the lavender-scented bubbles evaporated into tepid bath water. Until grief felt more like gratitude for memories made. Until Patrice's stomach ached from laughter. Until the clock struck midnight, and tears started to roll again. Until Patrice had wiped his entire face with her delicate fingertips several times over without a single inkling of exasperation or judgement while they lay face to face beneath cold sheets. And until she finally closed her eyes from exhaustion and turned her back for some shut-eye.

Then, he talked to God. A long list of thank you's emerged from his heart. A thank you for keeping him alive, one for time spent with Mike, one for his daughter, and another for the only person keeping him afloat when all he wanted to do was drown.

Terry looked at Patrice and smiled. Light from the television illuminated her face, highlighting her knitted brow and slight frown as she lay in the throes of a dream he could only imagine was vivid enough to evoke such a clear expression of disgust. The thought alone produced a genuine smile.

Clicking the power button, Terry found himself in complete darkness, fighting for the words to finish his prayer. He sighed and looked back toward Heaven. "She's perfect, God. Even when she isn't. If you never give me anything else, thank you for Patrice."

"Hm?"

Patrice's groggy response to her name being called made Terry roll over on his side to calm her back into sleep. "Nothing, baby," he spoke into her shoulder before pressing a kiss on her skin. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer, earning a content sigh. "I was just praying for you."

She smiled without opening her eyes. "Well, amen to that."

Tears tickled Terry's waterline, this time filled with overwhelming gratitude. A blessing like no other.

"Yeah. Amen to that."

-----

Reply if you'd like to be tagged in future work!

TAGS: @planetblaque @wvsspoppin @thatone-girly @avoidthings @slutsareteacherstoo @eilujion @amyhennessyhouse @yaachtynoboat711 @jenlovey @pinkpantheris @blowmymbackout @onherereading @becauseimswagman1 @thiccc-c @hrlzy @urfavblackbimbo @blackburnbook @ashanti-notthesinger @xo-goldengirl @ariiijestertheklown @blyffe @tvchi @wabi-sabi1090 @blackmoonchilee @flydotty @aldrigmer444 @ash-ketchumzzz @nayaesworld @ms-mosley-ifunastyyy @writingsbytee @teddybeerz @trippyscotch @theogbadbitch @ghostfacekill-monger

#aaron pierre #terry richmond #terry richmond x oc #rebel ridge

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boredpotate · 22 days ago

Text

Happier Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I do not own Arcane or any links. I only own the concept idea to this story and the story itself.

Concept: Isekai Fem Reader turns back time to fix her timeline, but it has unforeseen consequences.

Reader Pov

"MMMMPPPHHH!!!" I let out a muffled yell of pain. One of my kidnappers stomping on my braced leg; the leg brace being broken a while ago with some of the parts being bent or broken off.

I tried to escape, I really did, but that blow to the head really isn't me doing me any favors. They snuck me back down here to the deep end of the Undercity and once far enough away, they started their "payback" in some fucking dead end alleyway. Taking turns punching, kicking, slapping and just overall beating me to a pulp.

"Hey! Remember not to mess her up too much. We won't get paid if you break the merchandise" The woman who I determined as the boss of the rest of the group.

"Oh c'mon! We did this to get payback didn't we!?" one guy says as he kicks me on the ground as a heave for breathe.

"Yes, we did. We also all want to make an actual pay from this right?," their boss says and I can only guess the others agree, "Then we can't fucking kill her! We fuck her up, let her have what has been coming for a long time and then get paid. After that we can start making big moves down here, especially after this bitch is stuck in recovery." she says as she grabs my hair and lifts my head up to show them my state before throwing me back into the dirty alleyway floor.

"Fine. Still gonna have our fun though." Someone says kicking me in the back, the bruises that were already beginning to form from earlier assaults making the pain much worse.

I feel emotions rising again, but I don't shed tears for them. That would just make them happy. Instead I hold out and hope for this to be over soon; for the pain to just stop already. But a part that I try to bury down still sticks to my mind. A part of me that fears that this won't end, that they won't stop, they'll get carried away or change there minds.

'What if I die here?' the thought runs through my head as someone else decides to join in and get their hits in. The pain not getting any better, and only escalating as I scream out from behind my bindings.

"AAAAMMMMMPPPHHH!!!"

Powder Pov

"So what is it you wanted to talk about?" Ekko asks as we dance together as the music plays and people party and mingle around us.

"Two things. First, Y/n and I talked and she said some things that really touched me and open something up in me. So, I want to present the power cell with you. As partners, like you said you wanted to; before I walked off on you like a bitch. Sorry about that by the way." I say, feeling a little guilty now that I think back on when Ekko first asked me and I got upset at him.

"Really!? That's great! And you don't have to apologize for being upset. You were going through some things. We all do. But are you sure? You really want to do this with me?" he asks which makes me smile.

"Yes. I really do. I-I don't want to be stuck. I was scared of messing it all up and screwing things up for you too. I thought I would fail at it all..... but then Y/n talked to me. I'm still scared, but if I fail, I want to work through it. I wanna push forward and keep trying. I want to do that with you, Ekko." I admit, and he smiles and we lean into each other and have an intimate moment together on the dance floor.

Ignoring a random whistle and comment towards us from someone who is probably drunk as shit, even though the party just started.

We pull apart and continue dancing; holding each other close and I feel a weight be lifted off my shoulders. Finally feeling..... free.

"You don't know just how happy that makes me Powder. I promise you won't regret it," he says with determination in hus voice making me smile at his steeled resolve, "And the second thing?" He asks, making me a little nervouse.

"Right. So y'know how we said we would talk about our "thing" with Y/n tomorrow?"

"Yeah. Why?" he asks as he furrows his brows.

"Well when Y/n talked with me she said some things that were really touching and meaningful and then something inside me was just like 'Oh shit. I love her,' sooooo I may have kiiiiiiisssed heeer" I say as I shrink back slightly, afraid that he will be mad.

"......Okay." he says casually which makes me stunned and we stop dancing.

"Wha?"

"Okay. Surprisingly, I'm not mad."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Usually I would, but this is Y/n we're talking about. We both know we have a "thing" for her, and I honestly don't mind," he explains making me relax more as I hold his hands, "Is that weird?" He asks and I take a moment to genuinely think on it before answering.

"No, at least, I don't think it is. Even if it were the other way around, I don't think I would be mad either. As long as it's her," I say as I think back on those beautiful words that Y/n let spill from her lips. Her soft lips, "She makes me feel a certain way. Just like you. She brings something out of me that I didn't know was there." I say, and I hear Ekko chuckle.

"I know. She's also kind." "Caring too." "Loves Isha." "Always wants to help." "Cute too." "More like hot as fuck."

We bounce off of each other as we list the things we have grown to love about Y/n in just a month of knowing her. I smile and think back fondly on all the times we spent with Y/n and Isha. Just living life happily together.

"I love her, Ekko."

"I love her too." He says and we both stand there, two idiots in love with someone and wanting to bring her into our lives.

"You think.... You think she might feel the same way?" I ask him with hope in my voice.

"I don't know. You're the one who kissed her. You tell me." he says with a laugh.

"Well she didn't push me away, but she also didn't kiss back, although I think that's mostly because she was in shock. You should have seen her face."

"I got a glimpse of it when you two came back. Looked like her brain was fried" he says and we both laugh a little at that, "Since we're on the topic; how was it? The kiss?"

"It wa-"

"Hey you two!" I am interrupted by being pulled into a tight hug by none other than my sister Vi.

"Hey sis." I say in a strained voice.

"Happy you made it." Ekko says, his voice also strained and I see Cait shaking her head over Vi's shoulder.

"Of course we made it! This is a big night! Sevika's here too, but she went straight to the bar for a drink." Vi says as she somehow squeezes us tighter.

"Sweetie, you're gonna kill them if you hold them any tighter," Cait says, making Vi let go and take a step back, "You two looked like you were in a good mood. I'm guessing the energy cell was a success?" Cait asks.

"You know it. I already have it on display and ready for Powder and I to present to investors and the judges." Ekko says, making Vi perk up at the mention of my name.

"Together?" Vi asks, and both she and Cait look towards me expectantly so I give them a nod, making them both brighten up more, "That's great! Amazing! So are you two are going into this as partners?" Vi says excitedly making me smile at her encouragement.

"Of course. It's like what Y/n said. We're gonna rattle the stars." I say as I think back on those beautiful words that reached and touched such a deep part of me.

Suddenly I feel something ram into my lower back, almost throwing me off balance, begore quickly turning aroundto see Isha in a new frilly dress. Looking very happy.

"Isha! Look at you! When did you become royalty?" I ask as I kneel down to get a better look at her and she does a twirl to show off her dress to us.

"I didn't know Isha was a princess. Cupcake, why didn't you say anything?" Vi says jokingly and get's a pinch on her arm.

"I'm not a princess, and my family isn't royalty. We just collected a lot of influence over all of the years." Cait defends herself.

"So, basically royalty then." Ekko says, making the rest of us chuckle as I pick up Isha, and Caut sighs in defeat.

"Ekko! Powder! There you guys are, I've been looking for you two," I hear and turn to see Mylo and he does a double take at Vi and Cait, "Oh, hey! Good to see you two made it."

"What did you need?" I ask.

"Just wanted to let you know there's already some high profile looking people eyeing your energy cell, if you wanted to leave some early impressions on some investor's before the competition. Claggor is already showing off our plant. See?." he says as he points in a direction and we see Claggor showing off their invention to some people.

"Shouldn't you be with him?" Ekko asks and Mylo burshes it off and blows a rasberry.

"That's more of Claggor's thing. I'm better off mingling with the ladies." he says smugly and obviously eyeing at Gert on stage.

"You're such an idiot" I say as I shake my head, before feeling Ekko grab my hand as Vi tries to give him some advice on what not to do with women.

"Wanna make an impression?" Ekko asks and I look at Isha who nods her head happily.

"That looks like a yes. But first; hey sis! Cait!," I call to them and grab their attention, "Can you ask Y/n to meet us at Ekko's display? She helped us make it too, so I want her to be there when we show it off. That's fine, right?" I ask Ekko and get a nod.

"No problem! Where is she amyway? You four Are usually always hanging out together." she says with implication in her voice.

"She was sitting at the bar the last time we saw her. She should still be there," I say before adding on more thing, "And if she looks like she's in shock or contemplating something. That's fine. Just send her our way." I say we start walking away to where I would presume Ekko's display is.

"Don't worry, we'll find her." Cait says reassuringly before we start heading to the power cell; it already having people inspecting it.

"You ready?" Ekko asks me and I nod.

"Always."

Caitlyn Pov

"Can you believe it, Cupcake? Powder is gonna present with Ekko! She's finally gonna get out there and show off to the world." Vi says excitedly. Which I understand completely considering all the times I've heard about Powder holding herself back.

"She looked happy. I wonder what made her so confident to try now?"

"I'm willin' to bet it's her and Ekko's latest eye candy," Vi says with a smirk, "Those two are lovesick if you ask me." she says as we look for the girl in question around the bar area.

'Who would've thought an investigation would lead to a new addition of our family and friends.' I think back to just a month ago when we first met Y/n in this bar. I was slightly scared of her then, but afterwards she showed a much mofe gentle side of her. One that cared and laughed.

"Vi! Cait! It's good to see you two made it!" Vander calls out as he finishes serving a handful of people.

"Of course we made it. We wouln't miss such a big night." Vi says as we approach the counter.

"I saw you two lookin' around the bar. Somethin' wrong?" he asks sounding concerned.

"Nothing at all. We were just looking for Y/n. Powder and Ekko want her there with them to present their power cell, and said she should be here. Probably in an unusual state too, but Powder said that's fine." I explain to get rid of his worries.

"Oh, good. Don't need trouble on such a goon night. Last I saw she looked freaked out about somethin' before going out the back door for a breather. Though I don't know where she went afterwards, Silco and I got busy once the party started kickin' up."

"Thank you. We'll go check to see if she's still out there." I say as I glancs at Vi and nod towards the door, before making our way there.

Once outside and in the alleyway that the door leads to, we do a quick scan around to see if she's here.

"Damn. Not here either. You don't think she got drunk and wandered off do you?" Vi asks me with some worry in her voice.

"No. Vander would have told us if she drank. I also don't think he would have let her out here on her own is she was drunk."

"That's true. He wouldn't risk that on any of us." She says as she goes deeper into the alley to see if she might be nearby, and I head the opposite way towards the main street.

As I walk, I suddenly hear a small wet sound when I take a step.

'It didn't rain today.'

I take a step back and look down before kneeling to get a closer look. My eyes widen slightly at what I knew was blood. My shoe making a print of it and some drops of it surrounding the area I stepped

"You got something over there Cupcake?" Vi asks, but I don't respond. Trying not to panic.

'It could be from anything.' I thought before spotting something familiar laying near a trash bin.

"Cupcake? You okay?" Vi asks now behind me, but I get up and quickly walk towards the object and pick it up. My eyes widening.

Y/n's helmet. No doubt about it with the bunny ears Isha drew on it. It's dented in the back and I turn back to Vi, her now leaning down inspecting the blood before looking up at me and her eyes widen in fear just like my own at the helmet before looking into my eyes. We have a wordless conversation through our eyes before rushing back inside.

Y/n was in danger.

Powder Pov

"With this, it should produce a much more effecient power cell. Both for long-term use and energy efficiency. We...." Ekko continues to explain to people that have shown interest in the energy cell. It's been going great. Isha seemed to like the attention when we mentioned how she along with Y/n helped us with putting it together. Speaking of.

'Where is she?'

It shouln't be taking this long for Vi and Cait to find her. Unless Y/n herself didn't want to come, but they would have told us if Y/n refused.

I take a glance around the bar and try to see if I can spot her when I see Vi and Cait rushing in through the back door, not caring to close it. I see them rush over to the bar and immediately grabbing Dad, Silco, Sevika and Benzo's attention, as I see fear on their faces. My heart starts beating faster at their expressions and only get's worse when I see the other three's expressions go from shocked to fear.

I hold Isha closer at that and tighten my hold on Ekko's hand and give it a tug to the side.

"Um, could you give us one second?," Ekko asks them before stepping aside with Isha and I, "Powder, what's wrong?" he asks and I only nod towards the bar and he looks to see what I see. Isha noticing as well.

We move forward to try and get a better look at what's happening through the crowd, and I spot something in Cait's hands. Something I recognize immediately as we get a better angle.

"Y/n's helmet." Ekko says for me with with worry in his voice.

I see a dent in the back of it and look up and see that Cait has spotted us. She doesn't need to say anything for me to know what happened. I can see it in her eyes.

Y/n was attacked, and by her absence took also her.

'Someone kidnapped Y/n.'

Something inside me awakens at that thought. I don't care. Y/n was taken away. We need to get her back.

I need her.

We need her.

Reader Pov

How long has it been? Minutes? Hours? I don't know. All I feel is pain and exhaustion as I lay limp in a dirty alley. I tried to grt away from it all and dissasociate, but the pain is too much. My throat feels strained from all the yelling and screaming.

"Alright! I think that's enough. We gotta move before someone finds us here," Their boss says, but I feel a foot apply weight on my braced leg. I only groan in pain as I am too tired and in too much pain to scream, "I said enough! Anymore and you'll kill her."

"And!? This bitch has had this coming for a long time!" The man from earlier yells out.

"Because then we can't get paid, remember? We got our payback; now we get paid." Their boss says again.

"I say we off her here and now. Bitch deserves it." A different woman says and I hear some murmurs of agreement from the others.

"Are you guys crazy!? We do that and the enforcers will come down on us harder than they already are now!" Their boss says, trying to regain authority, but it doesn't sound like it's going well.

"She's the reason why they're hitting us as hard as they're in the first place! What happens after she recovers and comes for us!?" the other woman says, getting more murmurs of agreement.

"I say we send a message." I hear the guy from earlier say. I start panicking as I see someone hand him my shovel that was taken off of me and start walking towards me.

"Hey! This is not the plan!," Their boss tries to step in front of me to stop him, but is blocked by others and moved aside, "Are you guys serious!? If you do this we're fucked!"

I try to get up to run or fight. To at least do something, but I'm too tired and in too much pain. I can only hardly push myself up with my arms before being stomped on my back.

'This is it? Dead in a fucking alleyway?,' I thought as I am kicked to roll over on my back. The others all cheering the man on as he steps over me, 'Maybe this is the cost? Time letting me face the consequences of my actions,' I barely stare up at the man as he lifts my shovel high over his head. Ready to bring it down onto me, 'As long as they live.' I try to accept, but then the memories come running back to me.

Talking with Vander, Silco and Benzo.

Listening to Heimerdinger play toons on the street.

Messing around with Claggor and Mylo.

Having tea with Cait and Vi.

Sevika showing her tough love.

Going out with Powder, Ekko and Isha.

Talking, laughing, caring and living.

'I want to live.'

I move my head last second and the shovel imapcts the ground next to my head and I use as much strength as I can muster curl up and kick him away. I use the force of the kick to roll over onto my feet and try to run in the confusion, but don't make it far. Someone manages to trip me and I fall down again.

"Damn! She still has some fight left in her! Not enough luck though!" The guy says with a laugh as I try to get up, but I get stomped on my leg.

"Stop! If you do this we're done for!" their boss, or maybe former boss, tries again to stop him but is stopped.

I can only look over my shoulder as the man with my shovel stands over me again and raises it high.

'At least I tri-'

*BANG*

"AAAGH Shit!" The man yells as he drops the shovel and blood spills from his hand. I look forward and see Cait and Vi there.

"Drop your weapons now! Or else!," Cait yells out orders, but no one moves. She shoots near one's head and only barely misses, "I'm not asking again! Drop! Them!," she commands them and they follow orders this time, "Back away from her to the end of the alley! Now!" she says and I glance back to see them continuing to follow orders.

I hear Cait and Vi get closer to me and I can only make brief eye contact with Vi before they move to stand between me any kidnappers. I hear people running from where Cait and Vi arrived and look forward again.

"Cait! Vi! What happ-......" I feel a wave of relief go through me as I hear Powder's voice and see Ekko next to her with Claggor and Mylo behind her.

They rush over and untie my restraints before gently turning me over after seeing my state. Powder gently lifts my head to lay it on her lap instead of the cold floor and brushes some hair from my face. I can't help but let tears fall now and cry. I turn myself into her and she holds me close; not too tight because of my bruised body.

"Someone get her gun." Vi says and Ekko is quick to respond and get's it from the floor and brings it back to Powder and I. Handing it to Powder to hold onto.

"Kids! What's goin' on!?," I hear Vander's voice now, rushing towards us and I peak out from my embrace with Powder to see him, Silco and Sevika. Vander is wearing his old gauntlets. They give me concerned looks before staring down the alley at the thugs on the other end, "What happened." Vander says, sounding more like a command than a question.

"They were going to kill her. We got here right before that guy was about to cave her head in." Vi answers and I feel Powder stiffen at that. I feel her hold on me only tighten a little. Not too much to hurt me, but just to have me closer.

"Ekko." She says and no other words are exchanged. He looks over at the thugs, specifically at the one bleeding from his hand before he picks up my shovel from the floor.

He walks forward and before the guy can step back Ekko swings the shovel at him, knocking him to the ground; the others backing away from the sudden outburst.

"Wait! Wai-" he's cut off as Ekko doesn't stop. He keeps beating on the guy on the ground. No one tries to stop him. Not even Cait; who keeps her rifle aimed at the other thugs.

"Wait, he doesn't ha-" I try to protest through a strained voice, but Powder just cradles my head closer to not see what's happening.

"Shhh. It's okay. Don't worry about it. Everythings okay now." she says as I hear the guy's yells and screams and Ekko beating him senseless. I hear bones break, blood leaking and more screams.

"Stop! He's had enough!," I hear their boss say, but Ekko doesn't stop. He ignores her and keeps going. I feel one of Powder's arm loosen and peak out to see the woman go step forward to grab Ekko, "Sto-" *BANG*

I hear a familiar gunshot. Not from Cait. Powder's arm with my gun in hand is extended out towards the woman. Powder shot her. The woman drops dead and I stare in shock at her corpse, before Powder wraps her arm around me to hold me close again. Ekko continuing to beat a man to death; his screams and yells getting weaker. I hear the breaking of bones and blood being spilled. No one stops him.

"Wh- Why did you....."

"It's fine. They deserve it." she says in a certain tone that sounds too familiar. Too much like Jinx.

I'm overwhelmed by emotions. Too much happening for me to know what to do. Eventually Ekko finally stops and I can hear his labored breathes.

"We-We won't resist arrest. We'll go to Stillwater!" I hear a thug says and getting no protests from the others.

"Vander. Y'know what needs to happen right?" I hear Silco ask, "They hurt one of ours. They were going to kill her." he continues in that cold tone I know all too well.

A few seconds goes by before I hear Vander's heavy footsteps walk forward towards where I know Ekko is.

"You're done here, Ekko. Kids! Take her home."

"What!? Dad, they were going to kill her! If Cait and I di-"

"There might be others who might try something Vi. Take her home," Vander says again as Ekko walks over Powder and I, "We'll handle the rest."

"What!? We'll turn ourselves in! We won't bother he-" the voice is cut off by a loud impact.

'What are they doing!?'

"Come on, let's go home." Ekko says as he picks me up gently and I can only get a peak over his shoulder at what is happening. I see another dead body in front of Vander, there head looking like it was caved in. Powder runs a hand through my hair before gently coaxing my head to lean into Ekko.

"Don't worry about them Y/n. Get rest." she says as if there isn't a massacre about to happen.

As we leave Vander, Slico and Sevika in the alley with the rest of the thugs, I can feel my exhaustion taking over. The screams and yells being left in the distance. My eyelids grow heavy before I have no choice but to sleep. Too tired and hurt to fully process anything that is happening.

"It's okay. You're safe now. Just rest. Isha is waiting for you back home." Powder says softly before I finally drift off into sleep.

Hope you enjoyed. And hopefully 2025 is a good year for everyone. Sorry for any grammar mistakes.

#arcane au #yandere arcane #yandere arcane x reader #yandere claggor #yandere ekko #yandere mylo #yandere powder #yandere silco #yandere vander #yandere vi

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hazbinwhoree · 1 year ago

Note

Ok SOO THE NEW EPISODE JUST CAME OUT RIGHT, I was wondering if you could do a part 3 of the Adam x sinner fic where the sinner finds him in the aftermath of the fight and brings him back to their place. And like yk how sir p was redeemed, what if Adam comes back as a demon‼️ u write Adam so well, thx💜

Adam’s Sinner

Part 3/3

A/N: “Adam is dead” Nuh uh.

When Adam had told her about his plan to attack the Hazbin Hotel, (Name) had told him it was a dangerous idea.

As he lay dying, Adam realized she’d been right. He was alone now, his exorcists having flown back to Heaven and Lucifer and his bitch daughter and her friends had left him to go take stock of the damage the fight had caused. Until suddenly, he wasn’t alone.

(Name)’s face appeared in his line of sight. For a moment he thought he was hallucinating, but he could never imagine the scream of pure agony she let out.

“Adam,” she sobbed, pulling his head into her lap and placing a gentle hand on his cheek. Adam closed his eyes and leaned into her touch. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

“This is the first time I’ve ever seen you without your mask,” (Name) realized through her tears. Adam smiled weakly. “Like what you see, babe?” He coughed up blood and (Name) cried harder.

“You can’t die, you can’t, please Adam, please,” she rambled through tears. “I think my fate is sealed. I’m sorry. I love you.” He closed his eyes and completely stilled, his chest no longer rising and falling. “NO!” (Name) screamed. “ADAM!”

She shook him gently but he was gone. Through heavy sobs, (Name) gently put his head back on the ground and threw herself across his body. She lay there crying for a few minutes before kissing Adam’s forehead and rising to her feet.

Adam’s body disappeared in a flash of gold before her eyes. At least she wouldn’t have to bury him.

With a heavy heart and tears still flowing, she made her way back to her apartment. When she opened the door, someone was standing in the middle of the living room.

“Welcome home, sugar tits, did you miss me?”

Adam had two spiral horns protruding from his hair on the top of his head, his wings were black, and he had a tail, but it was Adam. Without a second thought, (Name) rushed him, throwing herself into his arms.

“You’re here,” she cried. “You’re alive!”

“Reincarnated as a demon,” Adam agreed.

“Thank fuck,” (Name) sobbed into his chest. He smiled, holding her tightly. When (Name) pulled back, she looked up at Adam with an indiscernible look. “What?” he asked.

“Your face,” she said softly, reaching up to hold it. Adam melted at her touch. “Your real face. My handsome boy.” Adam blushed. “Shut up.”

(Name) just smiled. Adam leaned down to press his lips to hers. Her lips tasted salty from tears. She ran her fingers through his hair while they kissed.

“I love you,” she breathed when they pulled apart.

“I love you too.”

Adam lifted her up so they were face to face and reconnected their lips. (Name) kissed desperately, like Adam may disappear at any moment. When they finally pulled apart again, they rested their foreheads against one another.

“You’re here,” she whispered. “I’m here,” he confirmed. “Now we can see each other every damn day. Hope you don’t get sick of me.” (Name) hadn’t even thought about that. She laughed happily. “I could never.”

So it turned out that while Adam had reincarnated as his least favorite species, the pros heavily outweigh the cons.

He was happy.

#hazbin adam #adam x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin angel dust #hazbin charlie #hazbin husk #hazbin vaggie #hazbin vox #x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin lute

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pascals-doll · 1 year ago

Text

like you mad at me

javìer peña x reader

🫧 lovely gif by @ilovejavierpena ! (took me a min to find the post again 💔)

🫧GO ON STRETCH THAT COOCHIE OUT LIKE U MAD ATTA BITCH 😩 sexyy red been stuck in my head!! based on all those sex scenes in narcos, I KNOW THATMAN FUCK LIKE HE MAD

🫧 pedro pascal speaking spanish ouuuu voy a llorar hasta que se me caigan los ojos

🫧 spanish keywords for my non-spanish speakers

-mirame: look at me

- lo adoro: i adore it

- bebesita/cielto: heaven/baby

- gatita tan linda: such a pretty kitty

-dentro de/ de que hablas: inside of / what are u talking about

🫧 description: literally just smut, slutty smut, angry sex, dom!javier, husband!javier, sub!reader, rough sex, backshots!, unprotected p in v sex, hair pulling, face grabbing, mentions of spanking kink, reader speaks spanish, mentions of putting a baby in reader at the end!, little bit of breathe play (if u squint frfr), javier is stressed and angry, no use of y/n, use of pet names (cielito, bebesita, good girl) javi just desverves good pussy

you knew being a DEA agent was not a very easy job, especially with the rise of colombian drug dealers.

he needed to come home to blow off some steam, it was just human.

in fact, you even encouraged your husband of an idea you’ve had in mind.

one night you knew your beloved husband, Javíer came home because the slamming of your front door rung through your shared home.

you knew it must’ve not been a good day, you get up from the couch.

you began to walk, turning the corner once you reached it turning towards where the front door is.

there he was, running a hand through his roughed up hair tucking away his gun in the drawer he always leaves it in.

he looked up at you with dead eyes, a tense broad frame, and furrowed eyebrows.

you came up to him, you open your arms to him causing him to lean in slightly as you immediately embrace him.

he cursed under his breath, you knew it was from his frustrations ”mi amor, how about we release some of that stress and anger” you whisper in his ear. you could tell by his face he was confused.

“de que hablas?” poor javì, he was just so tired. you gave him a soft smile.

you began to massage his broad shoulders, finding his muscular pressure points. you made sure to put slight pressure and squeeze.

“fuck me like you mad at me, baby”

ever since then, he does exactly that.

you were sure your neighbors hated you, they had too by now.

but the both of you could give less of a fuck.

you were too busy screaming into your pillow as javìer pounded into you.

his hand keeping your head down as he fucks you doggy-style ruthlessly.

your face was so far into the pillow, feeling his grip on the back of your neck. you had completely drooled all over yourself and the pillow as your moans and incoherent words were muffled.

you reach your arm back, giving him two taps on his hip signaling him that you couldnt breathe.

he pushed your face into the pillow once more before grabbing you by your now disheveled hair.

“how does my cock feel-” Javìer began, leaning down to connect his sticky back to yours.

“fuck!-dentro de ese gatita tan linda” his vile accent spits out as your hands reach up to claw at the headboard of your shared bed.

Javìer’s cock was fucking in and out of you at a devilish pace, his hips not halting; not even for a second.

“J-Javi! fuck!” you cry out, literal tears streaming down your face at the feeling of his cock hitting you as his hand burned into your hair was mind-boggling.

he had his other hand on your hip, using that one to scoop you up against him by your stomach; bodies completely pressed together.

you were completely encaged by him, one hand still in your hair and the other wrapped around your stomach as his cock continues to pound you.

the sound of skin slapping just got louder throughout the room.

“such a good girl. the most per-perfect-letting m’use this sweet pussy” he praises, almost moaning out himself as your wet warm cunt clenches around him.

“g-god! f-fuck! s’fast!” you babble out as you try your hardest to keep your head up, Javìer lets go of your hair, his other hand now going to your neck.

he let his hand rest there softly as his hips began to stutter, his hot breathy grunts ringing through your ear.

Javìer detaches his chest away from your back momentarily, his dick moving from inside you aswell.

“i adore you.” such a sweet sentence being spit out so harshly; slamming his cock back into you.

you cry out “oh my! Javí!” his lips peppered kisses throughout your sticky neck and shoulder; not caring.

“i adore your soul. i adore your body. everything you do-lo adoro” he grits out, the hand that was around your stomach now going down to slightly lift your leg; causing you to arch down more.

he was fucking you in such a mean way while being so loving.

the new angle he was pistoling his dick into you from had you seeing stars as he stretched you out more as if that was possible.

you could hear Javíer’s grunts and groans turn rougher and into deep short breaths.

your pussy took him perfectly, loving the way his hips slapped against your ass so meanly, his hands gripping your hips and ass, sometimes even spanking you till your ass turns cherry.

your hands claw at the bedsheets as you slightly spread the leg he was holding, engulfing him completely; to his balls even feeling his bush against your juiced up cunt.

the action caused his hips to stutter, signaling he was close.

the hand that was resting on your neck, now goes up to grab your face: slightly gripping your jaw.

Javíer’s hips continue to thrust into you as your voice goes hoarse, turning your yelps into just above-silent squeals and pleas causing you to shut your eyes.

“mírame.” his low tone sends your shaking body shivers. you open your eyes but the overstimulation being too much to keep them open.

“dije-mírame!” he grunts out loudly, you force your eyes open; never leaving his.

you admire his mouth slightly agape, his hair and forehead glistening, the way his mustache looked, and his deep eyes concentrated on your face; just as much as he was taking you in.

“ay! ay-mph! gonna cum!” you moan out, your mind barely hanging on to any conscious-sense.

“c’mon, cielito, c’mon” Javìer encourages, getting close to his release aswell.

you share the room as you and Javíer take it over with the sounds of both of your moans combining as the sound of skin-slapping dies down.

once he pumped you full of his warm white load. he fell onto the bed, bringing you with him.

“how do you feel, amor?” Javíer asks you, one hand massaging the hair he was once pulling while the other loving fondled your breasts as your legs interlocked.

your mind was still beyond processing and answering.

you gave him a weak nod which caused him to give you a soft smile.

“i’ll ask in the morning bebésita, lets hope i fucked a baby into you.”

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leviackermanscleaningbuddy · 1 year ago

Text

SKZ DRABBLE-Minho

Part III of Mafia!Minho, bitches. Saddle up. A/N: I know this isn't SKZ!Pack, but it's been in the works for a looooong time and I wanted you to have it. <3

Tags: SKZ, Stray Kids, Mafia!Minho, Lee Minho, Lee Know, Minho, Y/N, FemReader, SKZ x you, SKZ x reader, Minho x you, Minho x reader, Mafia AU, Part III, Skz imagines, Skz reactions, SKZ scenarios, Fluff, Angst

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Light Smut

Warnings: Mafia Shit-guns, death, illegal dealings, daddy issues and misogyny, allusions to sexual assault and rape, loss of viriginity, blood. Mentions of previous pregnancy loss, miscarriage, current pregnancy. Breeding Kink, kinda? You'll see. Minho's just REALLY in to pregnant reader. 😂

"He's dead."

His blunt, cold words ricochet around the inside of your head, like a round fired too hastily from a gun, sloppy and dangerous, wounding everything they touch.

There's no way. There's no fucking way.

You say as much.

"That can't be true-"

His face contorts in anger, and he leans down to pinch your chin in a vicious grip that makes you wince, yanking your head back to meet his gaze, hot and pinning.

"It is true. Would you like to see the pictures, girl? The reports from Lim? His blood splattered across the wall?"

You sink to the floor.

Not JinYoung. Not your brother. Fuck, it can't be-

He straightens, releasing his iron grip on you and straightening his suit, glaring down at you with little more than cold disdain in his dark, narrowed eyes.

"He's dead, and you're worthless." He growls out, stuffing his hands into his pockets and considering you with something akin to disgust twisting his features.

Hot tears fill your eyes, and your fists clench in your lap, twisting the fabric of your dress.

You bite your bottom lip hard enough to taste blood, and will yourself not to let a tear fall for him to see.

He scoffs, reaching down once more to take your chin in pinching fingers, making you whimper.

His eyes darken at the sound, as if he's a predator that has sensed weakness in his prey.

"You're worthless to me until you're wed." He hisses out, teeth clenched, muscle in his cheek bulging. "Remember that. You are nothing without a man in this world, girl, nothing."

He releases you without another word or look in your direction, whirling on his heel and stalking down the hallway, slamming the door to his office, probably already on the phone yelling at some poor inferior for killing his son.

You let your chin drop to your chest, and squeeze your eyes shut as you take several harsh, shuddering breaths, clenching and unclenching your fists.

It was his fault JinYoung was dead. His fault you were now all alone.

There was nothing you could do about it, not realistically, but you hated him for it all the same.

********************************************************************************

"You're thinking too much again."

You jump slightly at the sound of Minho's voice, still husky with sleep, his fingers finding the warmth of your bare skin beneath the blankets.

You sigh, wanting to be irritated at his perception when it comes to you, but can't quite manage, not when his fingers are tickling your sides.

"How did you know?"

"Mm." Minho hums beneath his breath, pushing himself up behind where you lie propped on your elbow in the big bed, staring out the window at the slowly rising sun.

His fingers trace up the curling lines of the snake that wraps your spine.

"I know everything about you, princess." He replies in a murmur, fingers still slowly ticking their way up your spine. You hear a slight smile enter his voice. "Well, that, and your thoughts are so loud currently that I feel like you're speaking audibly."

You give another sigh, this one conceding, and feel Minho brush a light kiss across the family crest that marks your shoulder.

"It's going to be okay, princess. I promise you."

You feel panic well into your throat at the surety behind his words.

"It wasn't okay before." You blurt out without really considering, hand tracing down beneath the blankets without thought to rest on the small swell of your belly.

It's normal not to feel any movement yet, you know that, and yet-

Minho's soothing, firm voice sounds in your ear, his warm breath brushing across your cheek, grounding you.

"That was before. This is now."

The surety is still there beneath his words-strong and constant-and yet, the acidic taste of panic is still slowly filling your mouth, making it hard to breathe.

"Princess." Minho says in a low tone, taking not of the rapid rise and fall of your chest. "Look at me."

His hand snakes around the front of your throat, and he gently squeezes with his fingers, angling your head back until you're staring up at him, his gaze serious and dark.

You drink him in like you're parched and he's the only water source-the soft curve of his lips, the upper fuller than the lower, the tan sheen of his skin, the sharp angles of his face, the dark wave to his tousled hair, the black ink trailing across his upper chest and arms, teasing at his throat, the pink, fading scars littered across his otherwise flawless flesh.

Minho is the only thing in this moment that's keeping you sane, and you hold onto that thread with a desperate fervency that frightens even yourself.

The corner of his mouth curves slightly as he stares at you, one hand around your throat to keep you in place, the other slipping beneath the blankets to cover your own where it rests on your bare belly.

You glance down, and the sight of his inked fingers covering your own calm the hammering of your heart.

"It's going to be okay." Minho repeats softly, firmly. "Whatever happens, princess, we're going to be okay."

You stare up at him and force a shuddering breath from your lungs, your fingers intertwining with his own.

"Okay." You whisper back with finality, because whatever happens, with Minho here, you're going to be okay.

********************************************************************************

You pause, hand splayed on the cool, carved wood of the door, and glance behind you to where Minho stands, several feet back, lingering in the mouth of the darkened hallway.

"You're not coming in?" You question softly, hesitantly, sudden butterflies swarming in your stomach.

Minho arches a brow, leaning against the wall, his expression unreadable.

"Do you want me to go with you?" He queries back, voice low and neutral.

You hear the quiet chatter of men's voices from beyond the door, the clink of glasses, and a shudder of fear goes down your spine at the thought of facing them alone.

"I don't know-" You stutter out, staring at him, trying to get a read through your suddenly mounting panic. "I just thought I need-"

You.

You don't finish the sentence, the words dying in your throat, and Minho's expression shifts slightly, his eyes darkening, his lips pulling into a serious line.

"Princess." He steps toward you, reaching out, and his fingers creep beneath your chin, tilting your head back to meet his gaze.

His features soften slightly, and he takes in a slow breath.

"I will always stand beside you, I will always be here whenever you want me, but let me make one thing very clear-you do not need me."

You stare up at him, words thick on your tongue, and the corner of his mouth quirks into the hint of an amused curve.

He lets a finger stroke along your chin, his voice dropping slightly even as his eyes grow fiery.

"You do not need me-or any other man-to make you powerful. You are powerful entirely on your own, and it is a beautiful sight to behold."

You take in a shuddering, sharp inhale, his fervent words settling into your bones, and let your fingers slide beneath the cuffs of the expensive suit he wears, tracing the ink you know is hidden there.

Minho smiles. "Who do you think runs the criminal world, darling? It's not the men. We're the face, yes, but behind every great man is an even greater woman."

He tilts your chin once more, and you let your head fall against the door behind you, staring up at him openly now.

He reaches out, and brushes a stray hair from your forehead with gentle fingers.

His skin is warm, and you lean into his touch, as he presses his lips to the flesh just below your ear, brushing a kiss there as he utters beneath his breath, for only you to hear, "Women mask lethality behind femininity, and it is their greatest weapon. You are not powerless, princess, no, far from it. You do not need anyone, because you are the queen."

He presses another kiss against your throat, right above your fluttering pulse, and pulls back.

You stare at him for another moment, and then straighten the gown you wear.

"You're right. I have the power here."

A smirk flickers across Minho's lips, his eyes heating with admiration as he watches you.

He jerks his chin toward the door and the voices beyond.

"Yeah, you fucking do. Remind them who's the queen. Give them hell, princess."

********************************************************************************

"Yeong-ah." Changbin whines, stamping his foot impatiently where he stands beside the island, a dramatic pout on his face. "You're taking too long!"

Yeong-Ja giggles at his antics, glancing up from pulling on her second shoe. "I'm almost done, Uncle Binnie!"

You hide your smile behind a sip of coffee, as Chan appears, tossing the car keys to Changbin-who catches them easily- before crouching down to finish helping Yeong-Ja with her shoe.

"Thanks, Uncle Channie!" Yeong-Ja beams, bouncing to her feet beside him, as Chan grins and straightens, patting her head.

"You're welcome, Yeong-ah." He straightens the bow in her hair, before he glances to Changbin, already standing in the door way, keys in his hand. "Now, let's get going huh? Your mom and dad have a very important appointment today, and we have puppies to see."

"Okay, Uncle Channie!" Your daughter's face lights up at Chan's words, as she slips her hand into his, her tiny fingers curling around his own, dark with black ink, reminiscent to Minho's.

It never ceases to amaze you how gentle and loving all these big mafia men are with your daughter.

"Oh, fuck me." Minho grumbles beneath his breath at Chan's statement, brow furrowed in a sour expression, as he leans against the counter beside you and takes a long gulp of his own coffee.

You hide another grin behind the rim of your cup.

Chan glances up at Minho's muttered curse, ever sharp, ever alert, and gives your husband a crooked grin, brow arched.

"What do you say, boss? What color of puppy do you want? Brown or Black?"

Minho levels the other man with a glare, as Yeong-Ja bounces excitedly beside him.

"I could not care less, Christopher."

Changbin grins broadly from the doorway, enjoying the little goading match from afar.

"Ah, c'mon. Don't you want a matching set?" He motions with a jerk of his head toward Suwon, currently sleeping under the large kitchen table. The black Doberman barely raises his head at the commotion.

Minho takes another drink from his coffee.

"The only matching set I want is you and Chan's heads on sticks."

"Sorry, boss!" Changbin calls, ignoring Minho's dark threat entirely, a grin slipping across his lips as he twirls the jangling keys around his finger, turning toward the door. "Can't hear you. Gotta go."

"Okay, on that note-" Chan clears his throat, coughing over a chuckle, as he herds your daughter toward the door. "-let's get going."

"Bye mommy, bye daddy!" Yeong-Ja calls over her shoulder with a little wave, before she disappears, dwarfed between the two large men.

Changbin throws one last amused, knowing look over his shoulder in Minho's direction, giving a cheeky little wave, before they all leave from sight.

"Fuck." Minho swears vehemently beneath his breath and promptly moves around the counter to dump the rest of his coffee down the sink.

********************************************************************************

"He's going to ask to see her again, you know."

Minho glances up from his phone to meet your gaze from across the backseat of the car, his expression darkening slightly at your words, and the open worry etched across your face.

He tucks his phone back into the pocket of his suit coat, and slides across the seat to sit beside you, hand coming down to rest on your own.

"And my answer will be the same as it always is." He replies back in a hushed, but dangerously serious, tone, his fingers squeezing your own. "When he comes to see her as his granddaughter, and not just as an heir to a massive criminal empire, then he can meet her."

You take in a shaky breath and glance out the window.

The roads are becoming familiar, you're close to your father's estate.

"Princess."

Minho's cool fingers tilt your chin back to him, making you meet his gaze. The corner of his lip curls into the hint of a smile.

"You do not reside on your knees for him any longer. He has no power left to lord over you."

You take in another breath, and will the butterflies to soothe in your belly.

You give Minho a small, shaky smile, and squeeze his hand. The metal of his rings are cold, grounding, against your palm.

"I know."

"If anything-" Minho glances past you as you pull into the long drive, your father's opulent mansion rising quickly in the distance.

He gives you a smirk and an arch of his brow as you turn into the gate.

"-now that you have myself and all my resources at your disposal, he should be absolutely terrified of you."

The car comes to a stop, and Minho slides out, straightening his jacket and offering you his hand.

You take in another steadying breath, holding onto his arm as you walk toward the entrance of your childhood home.

The door swings open as you approach, and your father appears, stepping onto the top step of the staircase, watching the two of you with a penetrating gaze.

You resist the urge to shudder under that look you know so well.

Minho pulls you up the stairs with him, his steps confident, and you try to borrow some of his courage, stiffening your back and shoulders as your father steps to meet you both, a fake, overly large smile sliding into place across his pale, thin lips.

Of course he would greet you personally, no butler was good enough for Lee Minho, not when you were trying to keep up appearances.

"Ah, there he is, my son-in-law, man of the hour." Your father extends a hand, and Minho shakes it, though you can see by the slight tic of the muscle in his jaw that he doesn't enjoy the contact.

To his credit, your husband does a hell of a good job putting on a front, his slight smile in your father's direction much more believable than the man's who raised you.

"Boss Park. A pleasure, as always."

Your father doesn't even glance in your direction, motioning for Minho to follow him into the cooled, dimly lit air of the front entrance hall.

You can hear a record playing from somewhere farther within the mansion, probably your father's office.

"Now." Your father waves away an approaching maid, and she scurries to grab an empty tray, headed for the kitchen. He turns, that same sickly smile on his face, and rubs his hands together gleefully. "Shall we get straight to business then?"

"You know I don't enjoy small talk." Minho inclines his head to your father, who takes that as a yes to his previous question.

"Of course." He motions for Minho to move down the hallway, his arm extended. "I'll have Maria bring us refreshments in the parlor. Shall we?"

Minho's hand moves to the small of your back, warm through the thin material of the dress you wear, coaxing you forward with him as he moves to step past your father.

You're thankful for the support, you worry the trembling of your legs will give you away.

"Ah, ah, ah." Your father holds out his arm, stopping your forward motion, and for the first time since you arrived, his eyes flit to you, the corners of his lips curling up into something akin to a disgusted sneer. "You know the rules of my household, daughter. Women are not allowed in business meetings. You can wait here. Catch up with that little maid and the old household cook you were so fond of growing up."

You swallow, your mouth suddenly dry, and something triumphant flashes across your father's dark gaze.

He knows that the cook you were 'so fond of growing up' was executed-shot in the garden while you were made to watch-on his order.

Can't have your daughter getting too close to the help now, can you? Not when secrets could be spilled, reputations dirtied.

Minho is talking, his voice fuzzy through your panicked memories, and you blink, focusing in on what he's saying, staring your father down with a serious, almost deadly, expression.

"I'm sorry, Boss Park, but when your daughter married me, she became my wife, and where I go, my wife goes. Those are my household rules. You understand."

Your father's lips part as his gaze flicks to you once more, as if he's thinking about disagreeing with Minho, but the flash of threat in Minho's dark eyes must convince him otherwise, because he plasters a strained smile onto his face and laughs, throwing his hands out.

"Of course. My apologies. Right this way then."

Minho glances at you, giving you a small reassuring smile, before he squeezes your hand, and you fall into step behind your father.

********************************************************************************

"Try to relax, (Y/N)."

Your doctor gives you a kind smile, the ultrasound wand posed and ready above your bare belly, the screen tilted toward the bed.

You swallow hard and nod, trying to focus on relaxing the tense muscles of your entire body one by one.

Minho squeezes your fingers where he crouches beside the bed, keeping up the pressure until you glance at him, your bottom lip sucked between your teeth as you worry it incessantly.

He reaches out to free the raw skin from your hold.

"Breathe, baby." He admonishes quietly, inked fingers stroking your knuckles in a reassuring pattern.

"Ready?" Your doctor asks, glancing between the two of you, lowering the wand slowly as she waits for your go ahead.

You stare at the blank, dark screen behind her, and try not to vomit.

"I'm scared." You admit to Minho in a whisper, hand tightening around his own, your breath coming slightly erratically now.

Minho pushes himself to his feet without a word, releasing his hold on your hand, and you almost reach out to grab for him again, before you realize he's sliding behind you on the bed, tugging you back against the warmth of his chest, his arms going around your shoulders protectively as he tucks your head beneath his chin.

"What did I tell you before, princess?"

You swallow again, gaze darting to your waiting doctor, and the screen beyond her shoulder.

"That it's going to be okay."

"Mm. Good girl." Minho hums a sound of approval in his throat, and you feel his lips brush across your forehead. "And it's going to be."

You take in a shuddering breath, and then give a little, jerky nod.

Minho's fingers find your own once more, and you feel him lift his chin from your head, glancing at the doctor.

She must see what she needs to in his gaze, because with a nod of her own, she finally touches the ultrasound wand to your belly.

Your body tenses at the contact as she begins to move the wand around slowly, her gaze laser focused on the screen.

Minho reaches his hand around to the front of your throat, his fingers finding purchase beneath your chin, and you don't resist him as he tips your head back, guiding you to meet his gaze.

"Just look at me, baby. Deep breath."

You force your chest in and out-once, twice-and Minho gives a nod of approval, leaning down to kiss your forehead once more.

"Good girl."

There is quiet, you don't know how long it's been since the doctor started her exam, and you feel your stomach twist, bile burning your throat, the longer the oppressive silence drags on.

Fuck, shouldn't you have heard something by now?

What if-

"Ah, there we go." The doctor murmurs, almost to herself, and suddenly, the sound of a heartbeat-fast and fluttering, like a hummingbirds wings, echoing the frantic pace of your own-fills the room.

Minho grins down at you, and you see the relief flash across his eyes as the heartbeat continues, strong and steady. "See? Nothing to worry about."

Your body sags with relief, and you glance at the screen beyond the doctor's shoulder-no longer dark-a shimmering, spiking line flickering constantly across the monitor in perfect time with the rapid heartbeat.

"Baby sounds perfect." Your doctor continues, smiling up at the two of you, as she moves the wand around and the heartbeat heightens a little. "Right on track."

"Oh my god." You breathe out, putting a trembling hand up to your mouth, sudden hot tears filling your eyes. "Fuck."

Minho laughs a little, leaning over to press a lingering kiss to the crown of your head, his arms squeezing you protectively.

His next exhale comes out more than a little shaky.

"Fuck indeed, baby. Fuck indeed."

************************************************************************

There is blood.

Blood smearing the inside of your legs, blood pounding hard in your ears, blooding staining the disgusting cock of the man looming over you, leering.

You glance to the door where your father had disappeared, giving his men free reign over you, some sort of lesson, and you know, deep down, that there is blood on his hands too.

But unlike the crimson marking you and the man creeping in, it's not the visible kind.

There is blood.

Dripping down between your fingers, coating your palms in slick red, so thick and so ingrained that even the running water is not enough to wash it away, not completely.

You scrub frantically at your hands, but the crimson only seems to multiply, filling the cracks and seeping into the edges of your vision.

You are hyperventilating, your chest heaving, tears streaming down your cheeks, and without your bidding, your gaze slides back to the man on the floor.

Dead.

Lying in a quickly congealing pool of blood and slaughter, your bucket and rag left hastily beside his blown out head.

The rag is already wet and sopping with blood, even after only one quick stroke across the cement.

You lean over the sink and vomit.

There is blood.

You can feel it, pooling beneath your hips, but you're too scared to look beneath the covers, too sure of what you'll find, your heart already shattering in your chest.

You feel sick to your stomach, and the cramping is worsening.

Rolling to your side, you curl your body into the safety of the fetal position, and try to drown out the low murmur of the doctor's voice from the other side of the room.

Screwing your eyes shut, you keep it all inside, and scream with rage where no one will hear.

There is blood.

Flecked across the tawny skin of his cheekbones, spattering the front of his white dress shirt, his prized shoes, congealing and blending with the dark ink that flows across his knuckles until they are almost one.

He steps toward you, and you run to him without a second thought, terrified enough that the breath in your lungs refuses to leave, not until you've got your hands on him and made sure he's all right.

Your bodies collide, and Minho holds you up as a sob tears from between your lips.

You reach up and put your palms on either side of his face, the crimson splatters, sprinkled across his nose like morbid freckles, accentuating the gold flecks that flash in the dark recesses of his eyes.

Minho's lips twist into the hint of a smile.

"It's not mine, princess. Don't worry."

You feel your lungs collapse, your chest caving, and you throw your arms around him violently, never willing to let him leave your grasp again, at least for tonight.

************************************************************************

There is blood.

You step around the puddle on the floor with nothing more than a disinterested glance, your sneakers squeaking on the concrete.

Behind you, Felix makes a muffled sound of disgust in the back of his throat.

"God, they really need to clean up down here."

You glance over your shoulder at him, as he steps around the bloody puddle on the floor with an open look of horror on his face, a grin breaking free from your lips.

You wait for him to catch up to you, and link your arm in his as you continue down the long hallway.

"C'mon, Lixie. I think it's charming."

He gives you an arch of his brow, and you laugh a little.

The interoggation rooms built beneath the mansion serve a purprose-regardless of how dark-and honestly, you're grateful Minho had thought of them.

It's a way to keep the men you hold dear close enough that you know they're not in danger while they do their jobs.

Plus, hearing the screams when you come down here can be therapeutic in a way.

"Besides-" You reach the end of the hall and stop in front of the door there, glancing over at the man beside you as you reach for the knob. "I guarantee, when they come down here, cleaning is the last thing on Changbin and Chan's minds."

Felix rolls his eyes. "Savages."

You grin once more, and roll the door knob in your hand, pushing the door inward easily.

"It's why we love them."

You step into the room, Felix close on your heels, and as the door shuts behind you, your eyes flicker around the small chamber, taking everything in.

Chan is standing against the far wall beside Changbin, muttering something to him rapidly in a low voice.

There's a wall of instruments on the north side, anything from clamps to syringes, all used to get enemies talking.

And in the center of the room, a hunched form of a struggling man, bound to a chair, face covered with a sack.

You can just make out the muffled swears coming from beneath the rough fabric.

You take a step into the light that beams down on the man, encircling him in the gloom, and Chan and Changbin push up from the wall as one, their chatter ceasing immediately.

Changbin grins at you dangerously, as Chan rolls his head from side to side, waiting for your instructions.

Felix, silent as a ghost, leans against the door behind you, watching.

You tilt your head toward the man.

"Show me his face."

"Gladly." Changbin's teeth gleam sharply, as he leans forward and rips the cover roughly off the man's head.

The man looks around, disoriented, his long, gray hair wild, eyes wide and white with fear, the gag held between his teeth stained with spittle.

You feel a spark of fear light in your stomach at the sight of his face-older now, lined, but still recognizable-but force it back down with a long breath, stepping closer calmly, until the man's frantically roving eyes land on you.

"Take off his gag."

Chan steps up silently now, untying the gag at the back of the man's head, and as soon as it's loose enough, the man spits it out, licking his dry, chapped lips, as he glances between you and the men surrounding him with fury in his eyes.

"What the fuck is this? Who do you think you are? I could have you thrown to the bottom of a lake so no one would find your bodies, you know-"

You tsk your tongue in disapproval, and the man halts his tirade, his eyes narrowing, his weaselly features sharp.

"Empty threats." You sigh, stepping toward him, cocking your head as you study him.

He's shrunk after all these years, his skin almost paper thin, his hair greasy.

The eyes are the same though.

Hungry, predatory, evil.

His lips lift into the start of a snarl, revealing yellowing teeth.

"I don't know who you think you are, you bitch, but I assure you-"

Changbin's hand tangles into the man's stringy hair, yanking his head back roughly, shutting him up.

"Shut the fuck up, old man. Watch your tongue." He growls, glaring down at the man, his eyes blurring with tears as Changbin tugs once more on his hair painfully hard. "Or else I'll make sure that what she does to you will feel like mercy when I'm done with you."

He shoves the man's head forward, and he sputters, trying to catch his breath, his chest heaving, spittle flying from his lips.

Chan steps around the chair and holds out a knife toward you, his brow arched.

You take it without hesitation, and play with the razor sharp tip for a moment, ticking it off your fingertips as you study the man, lost in thought.

He glares up at you, his eyes full of hatred.

You almost laugh.

Oh trust me, not as much hatred as I hold toward you, Wu Chen.

You sigh, a long suffering sound, and address the man sitting, still now, before you.

"Do you recognize me, Mr. Wu?"

His dark eyes flash with something full of anger, but no recognition crosses his murderous gaze.

"Why should I?"

You cluck your tongue in annoyance, glancing up from the gleaming knife held in your hands.

"You took something from me once."

A brief flash of confusion swirls with the fury, and then his jaw clenches, his features going hard.

He gives a humorless laugh.

"I've taken things from a lot of people." His eyes glint with the predator, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he lets his gaze fall down the length of your body. "Quite a few of them delicious, mouthy little cunts such as yourself."

He's trying to unnerve you.

It's not working.

You've given him enough fear for one lifetime already.

No more.

You step forward, and lean over him, your hand going on the back of the chair, the knife held alert between the two of you, dangerously close to his jugular.

His eyes flick down to the steel, and you don't miss the way his throat bobs with a swallow.

"You took something. Long ago. Took something from someone who couldn't fight back. Something that was never yours to begin with. Do you remember what that was, Mr. Wu?"

Your voice is quiet, steady, but venomous and deadly as a viper waiting to strike.

His eyes meet yours, and when it's clear he's not going to respond, you sigh, sliding the knife up the column of his throat slowly, watching as the crimson appears in the shallow cut you leave behind.

He flinches, but remains quiet.

"A girl." You continue, voice dropping to nothing more than a deadly murmur.

Something like recognition flashes in the dark of his eyes, and suddenly, the man sitting bound before you looks a hell of a lot more nervous than he did before.

You let a small smirk flick the corner of your lips, as you lean back, taking the knife away from his throat.

"She wasn't strong enough to fight you back then. But she is now."

You lift your chin at Chan, and he steps around in front of your prisoner, leaning over to rip open the closure of his suit pants.

"What, what are you doing?" He splutters, immediately writhing in the chair once more, as Chan proceeds to easily tear his pants open, baring thin, scarred legs to the cold air of the room.

Changbin steps up as Chan finishes and goes around the chair, back to his side, holding the man still with firm hands on his shoulders as you approach once more.

You lean over, and easily shred the boxers he wears with one quick flick of your wrist that holds the knife.

The man before you screams and struggles, as his shrunken, shriveled cock springs free for all to see.

"Mm." You hum in your throat thoughtfully, staring at the man and his member with consideration. "It's a lot smaller than I remembered."

Changbin leans over the man's shoulder to get a look and grins, his eyes glinting.

You glance back to your prisoner, and a smirk curves your lips as he cries out in terror, fighting against his bonds and the hold of Changbin's hands.

You step closer and hold up the knife for him to see, the metal glinting in the overhead light.

"No, no, please-" He flails, begging pathetically, but you ignore him, angling the knife expertly as you close in.

The smirk doesn't leave your lips, as you arch a brow and stare down at the writhing, pathetic excuse of a man before you.

Your voice is steady when you speak, rising above the sound of his pleas.

"You took something precious from me, Mr. Wu. Now it's time for me to take something from you."

************************************************************************

You hear Minho before you see him.

The door to the bedroom sounds, and the room is immediately filled with curses and general angry lamentations as he struggles to get through the crack he's made in the door without letting the dogs on the other side in with him.

You can hear him yelling all the way from the ensuite bathroom.

"Get back, you hairy fuckers!-Jesus-Suwon, don't do that, you damned beast!-fuck-and you! Fucking bane of my existence!-ow-Give me back my fucking shoe and go find a ball, you damned fucking demon hound!"

The door finally slams, and you hear rapid paws head down the hall on the other side, Suwon and the new puppy, probably in search of Yeong-Ja.

Minho appears then in the doorway of the bathroom, looking frazzled, a lone dress shoe held in his hand, his lips smashed into a thin line of rage.

You try to hide your smile, glancing at him over your shoulder, as you continue to ready to get in the already running shower.

"Have a bit of a struggle, Boss Lee?" You query innocently, eyes wide as you regard him, like you haven't just heard everything that occurred.

He swears under his breath and tosses the chewed shoe into the trash, reaching up to swipe a hand through his disheveled hair with an agitated rake of his fingers.

"Fucking dogs. That fucking puppy is even worse than Suwon was."

You grin now, turning toward him, and his eyes trail down your naked body, catching on the prevalent bump that now takes up your midsection.

"Baby, Bohoja will learn, just like Suwon did. You won't be stuck with ruined shoes forever."

"Mmm." Minho hums something like distracted agreement under his breath, his eyes still on you, as if he's lost his train of thought and is no longer thinking about the hellhounds that roam the halls. "He had better. Or I'll have Chan's head on a stick." He takes a step toward you. "But that's not what I came to talk about."

You arch a brow, playing innocent for awhile longer.

"Oh? What did you come to talk about then, husband?"

His eyes darken predatorially at the lilting tease to your voice, a challenge, and he growls, closing the space between you, his hand going up to grip your chin.

Your bare chest brushes his through the material of the dress shirt he wears, and you can already feel his arousal, long and rock hard against your leg.

It makes you want to shiver, even though the steamy bathroom is more than a little warm.

His eyes trace up your body once more, and then flick to your face, catching on your cheekbone, before he reaches up with his free hand to brush something on your skin.

You lean into his touch, brushing your lips over the inked skin of his knuckles.

"You have blood on your face, princess."

You arch a brow. "Does that turn you on?"

Minho's eyes flash dark, dangerous, and his lip curls up to reveal a flash of his teeth, his voice a husky growl in the back of his throat.

"Incredibly."

You smirk, and he stares at you for another moment, hunger clear in his eyes, and you think maybe he'll give in and take you right here, against the bathroom counter, but instead, he sighs, and lets his free hand tangle into your hair, tilting your head back so your gaze meets his.

"You found him then."

It's a statement, not a question.

You nod. "Yes."

Minho's brow arches, and the corner of his mouth lifts into the start of a smirk.

"And?"

You sigh, pulling from his grasp as you step away, turning back when you reach the waiting shower.

Minho hasn't moved, watching your every move.

Eyes locked on his, you step backward into the flowing water, and it immediately coats your skin in hot rivulets, making everything slick.

You arch a brow, watching the predatory look come back into Minho's eyes as the water wets your skin, pooling in streams down between your breasts, your thighs.

You cock your head, as if considering, and then say without preamble, "And I cut off his pathetic excuse for a dick. I gave it to cook. She's going to make a fancy pate out of it and feed it to the dogs."

Minho breathes out, you see it in the way his chest rises and falls and then he's striding to the open air shower, ripping his tie off as he comes, stepping into the stream of water in the rest of his clothing without a second thought.

He takes your chin in a bruising grip with one hand, and snakes his other hand down between your thighs.

Your breath hitches as he touches the wetness there, just for him.

"God, you're so fucking beautiful, princess." He grits out, tilting your head back so that he can look into your eyes while he finger fucks you.

"So you tell me." You try to give him a teasing smile, but the expression is lost as your mouth parts and a gasp escapes your lips when he curls his fingers.

"No, I mean-" He backs you against the wall with his body, the water drenching the shirt he wears, you can see his tan skin and the ink across his chest through the wet material, and lets his gaze travel appreciatively down your length once more. "-you're always fucking beautiful, but god-"

He groans gutturally , leaning into you, mouth open against your own, as he hits a spot that has you gripping onto him, keening audibly.

"-there's something so incredibly fucking sexy about you when you're pregnant."

His words send a thrill of heat straight to your core.

"Take this off." You practically beg, pawing uselessly at his shirt, and he pulls his hand away from you to undo the buttons, tugging it open impatiently, as you reach down to free him of his pants.

You're eager for him to take you, to claim you, but instead of immediately finding purchase inside you, Minho drops to his knees in front of you, and runs his hands reverently over your swollen belly, glancing up at you through the streams of water.

His hair is dark, dripping, and you bury your fingers into it.

"I put this here. You, carrying my kid, princess-" He takes in a deep breath, his fingers still caressing your skin. "Fuck, now everyone knows who you belong to. Everyone knows you're mine."

You stare down at him, this man on his knees for you, this man who has given you everything-and you smile.

"I don't think there was ever any doubt about who I belonged to, Lee Minho. It's always been you."

Minho surges to his feet and covers your mouth with his own, your tongues tangling instantly, your body melting into his, his fingers finding you once again right where he left off, making you jolt against him and gasp in pleasure.

"What do you want?" He asks, voice husky, gravely, against your lips.

"You." You breathe back, hand already trailing down between your two bodies to find him. Your fingers close around him, and Minho shudders. "All of you. Always."

"You have all of me, princess. Always." He repeats in a hoarse voice, before he sheathes himself fully inside of you without warning, making you both cry out.

And you know he means it.

************************************************************************

"Ow." You huff beneath your breath, shifting on the chaise, as Yeong-Ja looks up from playing with the puppy on the floor in front of the fire.

"What's wrong, mommy?"

You give her a smile that's more like a grimace as the baby kicks you strongly again, foot sinking up under your ribs.

"Baby brother is just kicking me, that's all, baby. I'm okay."

Yeong-Ja immediately turns back to Bohoja, teasing him with a rope toy.

"'Baby brother'?" Minho queries, leaving his desk and sliding in beside you on the sofa, his arm going around you as he pulls you close.

You smile, glancing up at him. "Just a feeling."

Another kick, another curse under your breath.

"Fuck. Minho. Tell your son to behave please."

Minho chuckles, burying his nose in your hair and breathing you in, his hand sliding down to rest on the apex of your stomach.

"Sorry, princess. You know how we Lee men are."

The baby kicks again against his palm, and Minho curves his fingers along the curvature of your belly, as if holding the unborn baby close from the outside.

You sigh, and snuggle back into him.

He presses a kiss to your forehead.

"Well-" You acquiesce, stifling a yawn as you lean your head on his shoulder, and watch Yeong-Ja playing happily with the puppy, Suwon dozing near by. "-I'd better get used to it then, because I wouldn't have them any other way."

You feel the warmth of Minho's breath as he buries his face once more in your hair, holding you close.

"I love you, princess. And the murderous little creature currently growing in your womb."

You grin and kiss his chest through the thin material of his dress shirt.

"I love you too, Boss Lee."

Love.

There is so much love.

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