#the last one was just WAY too similar down to his appearance

[teddybeartoji]

me and toji me and toji me and tojiiiiiiii...

we started out as neighbors but it took us like three months to even propely meet lmao,, it takes me a while to get used to new places so when i first moved in i just stayed at home like a lot. a lot a lot. i literally only left to go to the grocery store and then to the park down the street and that's it. and toji is a big homebody too, so he didn't go out all that much either, just work and then the bar with a friend every once in a while. we just didn't happen to move at the same time, despite living right next to each other.

after about a month, i found myself a third place and slowly but surely grew more and more comfortable there – the cinema (nobody is surprised). i always liked to go during the day, as early as i could, just to make sure that there wouldn't be too many people. always in the last row, always in the middle seat. this is the mickey way. anyway, after creating a bit of a routine for myself, i felt more free to observe my surrounding some more too. felt more comfortable to start people watching. and that's when i saw him. mostly dressed in darker clothes, hoodies and big jackets. sometimes with a cap on, sometimes without it. it's not like he was always always there at the same time as me but when he was, he always sat in the last row but instead of fighting for the middle seat, he always sat at the very end of the row. obviously i thought he looked very handsome – we had made eye-contact a few times while buying popcorn by accident and let me tell you, that was enough to have my heart racing ok i am very weak. but i'm not bold enough to strike up a conversation like that so stolen glances and shared movie experiences were all we had. we btw have a very similar taste in films so we did end up seeing each other a lot there lmao

aaaanyway i just had a silly little cinema crush but never did anything abt it bc i'm a pussy ok😔😔 (he's literally the same). okay but so, one day i was coming home from whereever, just stepped into the elevator when a hand stopped the doors and HE appeared. i was very confused. he.. looked confused too lmao,, but now........ loookkkk.... no matter how handsome he is..... he's still a stranger, and a man too at that. a man who seems to be where i am multiple times a week and is now suddenly where i live. yes, i freaked the fuck out okay. don't judge me. he didn't press a floor button either yk so i really did start to spiral over the fact that maybe he's stalking me or smth..... and he saw that. he saw me tense up and he isn't stupid – he knows he's a tough big guy and it did seem like he could've been stalking me. so he immediately backed away a bit, trying to make himself smaller bc he obviously didn't want to make me any more uncomfortable. and then he just blurted out with his raspy voice that he lives here. it definitely cracked the tension a bit. he cleared his throat and slowly pointed at the floor buttons, saying that he lives on the same floor (btw i need everybody to know that he has a bit of an accent in my head it's very very important to me he speaks english very well but his accent still shines through and i love it very very much<33333). he even showed me his keys lmao and i did feel way more safe after that buuut we still didn't really introduce each other or anything. i guess the air still felt just a bit weird.. the doors opened and we both walked to out apartments in silence (it wasn't actually awkward or anything though it was just . silence) and then looked at each other with silly faces when we realized we literally live Right next to each other lmao that was funny. i just said that i moved in like two months ago and that was it. we went our seperate ways.

for a day.

bc you have no idea.. how awful i felt abt that elevator thing. oooooooh my god. IT'S NOT HIS FAULT HE'S SO BIG SO IT'S SO MEAN FOR ME TO ASSUME THAT HE'S SOME AXE MURDERED YK well it isn't but i still felt really really bad esp since he tried to immediately make me feel more comfortable and tried to reassure me that he was not, in fact, stalking me lmao but yeah idk it just weighed really heavily on me i couldn't help but keep thinking abt it soooo i ended up baking a batch of brownies the very next day. and i went to his door (still in my hello kitty pyjama pants mind you)(i forgot to change them) aaand then started rambling and STUTTERING BTWW while apologizing and he just stood there like ???? like he didn't even understand why i was apologizing in the first place lmao he felt it was a very understandable for me to have that fear and to think the way i was thinking (he actually felt a bit bad abt the whole thing inside too he just didn't really know how to express it). aaaanyway so he was just there staring at me with like a veeery faint smile bc at a point it got a bit ridiculous bc i really did start just rambling abt the whole thing lmao it was uhhh just a bit embarrassing (the fact that he's hot didn't help either thank you very much). he thought it was cute how i was there trying to apologize for smth that he should've been apologizing for himself lmao he tried to say no to the brownies at first and i shoved them at him so hard they all almost fell.. aaand i think that's exactly where he decided that hm. mickey . yes weird little creature i am intrigued i want to know more yk?

btw we still didn't exchange numbers or anything at that point, that happened later after i came knocking at his door at twelve am bc there was a big spider in my room but i'll talk abt that some other time:33333333 thank you for reading abt the miji lore i love you . and i love him. sooooso much he means the world to me<3333333333333333

[dreeeve]

another character has hit my kin list

[reshinless]

Can you write kinich x reader smut

──── i w'na ride?!

𝜗𝜚 synopsis. whatever position he wants >_o

𝜗𝜚 pairings. kinich x gn!afab!reader(?) see this however u want cuz in som of the bullets i use boobs or discreetly mention chests (kinich is also a lowk perv)

𝜗𝜚 director's notice. i'll explain why he'd like this trust me, !!nsfw content ahead!!

inspired by the moments where he kept hitting the pose where his hands behind his head plus the one scene where he sat in a tree with his hands behind his back (or maybe i'm imagining things.)

kinich who reluctantly visits the beach(es) plus hot springs in the toyac springs region because mualani says you both need it, seeing as how much you both work beside each other, you'll definitely need a nice bath! especially the rumors of the heated conditions the springs seem to excrete.

kinich who no matter how long you and him have met each other, he'll never get used to seeing you in a bathing suit. even when you both were still kids fooling around on the beach with mualani. the atmosphere back then has almost never changed, walking along the sandy coast, feeling each little particle fall over your toes, the sun roughly about to set, the scenery was a sight to behold!

now that you both were older.. he would be lying if he said he wasn't attracted to you, your way of fighting, your appearance, how well you compliment him, it was almost like a corrupt addiction. even ajaw mentions how cheesy it is each time he sees kinich looking at you, whether it be lust or love in his green eyes.

mualani was overjoyed to hear that you've never gone out to swim, especially in the temperature she's usually in. kinich decides to tag along, totally not because he definitely wouldn't mind seeing you in different swimsuits/trunks.

kinich who you didn't mind letting him stay outside the changing room while you put on different suits while mualani actually help you choose (unlike someone who just kept ogling his eyes at you)

mualani who chose something that revealed more than appropriate portion of your skin (which was a lot, and imagine this similar to the one lumine wore!!), kinich who couldn't stop eyeing you up and down, ajaw teasing with digital sunglasses over his face; "y'know sunglasses help cover up what you're tryna look at!"

cue kinich smacking bro away again :pray:

you only got more attractive in his eyes. watching how you walk up to him, holding out a bottle of sunscreen to him, asking if he'd put some on your back before you'd go surfing on mualani's shark.

kinich didn't wanna admit but he was a little more than just turned on while spreading the lotion over your shoulders and back down to your back, his calloused hands feeling you up and down..

kinich who felt a little guilty but couldn't help but always slowly let his view dip down to your ass. shit he could already imagine what it'd look like without that last piece of clothing. too bad he can't rip it off you right here and now.

kinich who ran his hands around your chest, your sides, every curve that you wouldn't suspect him from.. he could already feel the tent in his pants rise.

kinich who couldn't resist looking at your pretty body through the blurriness of the water, almost forgetting to swim back up from being a little more than distracted. only coming back up after mualani mentions he's the winner of holding their breath underwater challenge.

a sigh of relief.. or maybe pleasure rather remembering yesterday on how close he got to be to you, palming his erection with hurriedness, thinking of how soft you felt under his fingers, only a thin layer of sunscreen that wouldn't make it weird between you both, kinich catches himself moan your name quietly in the changing room before he goes back out to you and mualani for day two of your summer break of 5 days in total.

sitting under the comfortable shade of an umbrella he brought, putting sunglasses on to rest for a bit before going in the water, or at least that is what it looks like. in all real reality, he was taking sneaky glances at you from less than appropriate angles, he would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy it.

kinich could barely hold himself back for the next 2 days, wherein you all toured around mualani's hometown (for the sixtieth time, but then again it never gets old seeing a different culture every now and then!)

on the last day of your adventures with mualani, she offers for you both to finally bask in the warmth of the hot springs! the natural wonder of her home! kinich was reluctant at first, but agreed seeing how you were just oh-so happy to oblige.

this time, mualani got you a different swimsuit, one muuuuuchhh more revealing this time. it's clear now that she knows kinich's little crush on you, and now she knew that you liked him back.

mualani who coincidentally forgot the milk, and silly snacks she baked earlier that morning, oh would you look at the time! i guess she has to go get them... kinich who lowkey panicks, he already is a little flustered from your new look (but manages to quickly cool himself down)

kinich who is gentle while letting you slowly dip your feet into the water, this wasn't his first time here but he knew it was yours, stepping into the water first while holding your palms softly.

you two finally both sit in the springs comfortably, right in front of him, talking about whatever you and mualani did while he sunbathed (under an umbrella). building sandcastles and such.

"ahhh... kinichhhh! you should've been there. i would've wanted you there at least, dunno about mualani-" it felt like almost immediately his trunks tightened.. maybe he got the wrong size?

oh but the sound of you verbally saying you needed him definitely is a huge turn on. well you didn't necessarily say 'need' but you definitely wanted him there, good enough.

kinich who already has you straddled on top of him, directly on his boner, fuck he could feel it already. his hands are already on your hips letting you grind over his erection, this felt better than he could've ever fantasized of!

kinich who lets you ride him, the water you both were already surrounded only made it sound all the more dirtier. it didn't help that the sly little smile on your face, all he could do was bury his face into an arm of his own, looking away from you.

kinich whose hands were in his hair, intertwining with every little strand, the flush on his face only worsened each time you bounced on it, he could barely make eye contact with you, not because he didn't want you.. ohh it was because he thinks if he did he'd come immediately!!

kinich who holds you close as his climax comes closer as well, holding you tight in his embrace, he could feel your warmth, your skin, your everything, all he could was quickly drift his calloused palms back down to your hips, making sure no drop of cum was waaaasssttteeedddd

you could see how good you made him feel, even with just a sneaky, yet lustful glance, yet plop plop plop is all you can hear echoing throughout the cave, your hands propped up on the wall as kinich pushed against your back, his grunts only getting louder, eager to please you. seeing how your eyebrows knotted

kinich who felt intoxicated as hell in your scent, almost breathless as his head fits into the empty slot right beside your collar, fire pooled down inside your abdomen as you slowly reached your peak, watching how beautifully your eyes rolled back, feeling warm semen shoot up in your stomach. holy shit were you a beauty to see.

the musky scent of sweat mixed with the warm water below you both, kinich could still feel you clench harshly on his cock, even after release, fixed & still processing what you both had just done.

kinich who brings you out the bath, wrapped in a towel, bridal style and all, before mualani can come back with the milk and snacks- "hey what is that white stuff mixed in the water- what did you two do?!"

kinich who holds your hand while you both stroll throughout the shops opened up at nighttime, the constellations in the sky connected like it was used to it, the fresh scent of grilled fish was clear in the air's aroma, filling everyone's noses, mualani couldn't just give all this fish just to you two anyway!

kinich who fully confessed his feelings to you, no sex no lust, just him wanting you to sense how much he's been longing for you, in hopes you'd reciprocate it. in which you did with open arms!

m: "aha! i knew it! you both finally told each other you like each other didn't you!!", k: "no need to shout.", y/n: "i suppose!"

mualani will stop teasing for now, and let you two be, just with each other as the stars reflect off the light you've shone into his life.

kinda cringe might delete :100:

[lovebugism]

do something with king steve who secretly likes female/shy/reader

hope u like it xoxo — the one where king steve keeps his best girl a secret (shy!fem!r, secret relationship, fluff, 1.2k)

bug's one year celebration ♡

“Boo!”

You jump when a figure appears suddenly behind the door of your opened locker. They’re wearing bell bottoms and a sparkly clip in their strawberry curls. Carol Perkins giggles when her attempts to scare you work. Tommy Hagan follows just behind her, laughing louder until his freckled face scrunches together.

The only reassuring thing about seeing both of them together is knowing Steve isn’t too far behind. He’s got his tongue in his cheek, and his arms crossed over his chest, visibly unamused.  “What are you guys— three?” he scoffs, pushing the sleeves of his sweater up to his elbows.

“Yeah, three inches deep in your mom,” Tommy retorts with a boyish chuckle.

Carol squints her made-up eyes at him. She deadpans, “That’s not the comeback you think it is, Hagan.”

You turn to Steve with a panicked glimmer in your eye. You’re so used to being the butt of all their jokes that being in their proximity now fills you with something close to ice-cold dread. You peer at the boy beside you with pinched-together brows, knowing he’s the only one who cares about you past cheating off your homework.

“What’s going on?” you wonder quietly, for only him to hear.

Steve grins, brows raised and eyes twinkling. “My house is gonna be empty tonight. ‘Cause, you know, my dad’s got a work conference or whatever, so… No parents. Big house—”

“A total recipe for disaster,” Tommy interjects with a laugh.

“You’re throwing a party?” you ask, voice trembling. There’s little more that scares you than crowds — well, crowds and loud music and drunk people. Parties were never your scene. Steve knows that better than anyone.

He corrects you quickly, stammering over himself because he never wants you to feel uncomfortable. “No! No, not a party. It’s gonna be lowkey. Just a— a get-together, you know? Just the four of us.”

“Ooh,” Carol croons from behind you. “So no priss?”

“Shut up, Carol,” Steve snaps.

“I’m just used to you following her around like a lost puppy, that’s all.” Carol and Tommy laugh about it together. ‘Cause that’s all they’re really good at — making stupid jokes and cackling like supervillains.

Steve rolls his eyes with an annoyed huff and turns his attention back to you. You take it from him wholly, every ounce of his focus. 

There was something ethereal in your vagueness — in how softly you spoke and how pretty you looked when you weren’t even trying. You’re quiet and mysterious and hidden. Steve desperately wants to be the one that deciphers you.

“Are you in?” he asks in a low, honeyed tone.

Your gaze falls to the tile. “I don’t know…” you murmur.

“C’mon,” he croons and steps closer to you. His sneakers enter your vision until you look up at him again, peering at him from beneath your lashes. His grin is pink and pretty and lopsided. “Don’t leave me with these assholes all night.”

“Dick,” you hear Tommy scoff from behind you. He sounds much further away than that ‘cause all you can see now is Steve. And his pretty hair and his pretty eyes and his stupid pretty smile.

You cave instantly. 

You never really stood a chance, anyway. Not with the way he was looking at you.

“I’ll think about it,” you mumble and turn back to your locker. You switch your English textbook for a History one and cradle it in your arms. Steve grins, knowing he’s forgotten his on purpose just so he could sit next to you all period.

“Good,” the boy hums.

“We’re finally wearing Wallflower down,” Carol muses, giggling to herself.

Tommy knocks you too hard on the shoulder. “You’ll be one of us in no time,” he grins.

You grimace as they walk off down the hall. That’s the last thing you’ve ever wanted. The thought of there being an ounce of similarities between you and them makes your stomach ache.

“I’ll see you later, yeah?” Steve tells you, smiling quietly when you nod. 

He reaches into the pocket of his jeans and passes you a folded-up piece of paper. He doesn’t look back at you when he follows his friends down the corridor. You don’t open it until he’s gone.

West wing chem lab, he’s written in chicken scratch. Come find me. 

—————

The hallway at the west end of the school is dim and empty. The floors are untouched, and the lockers are sparingly opened. The air is thick and noticeably stale. You open the door to the old chemistry room with a high-pitched squeak that sounds like something out of a horror movie.

Steve waits for you in the dark classroom, lit only by the natural sunlight streaming in through translucent curtains. He sits at a table in front of the window and toys with the burner at the end of it. He turns the thin blue flame on and off and on again, silently wishing he’d plucked a cigarette from Tommy before he left.

His honey eyes flit to yours when you walk into the room. He grins at the soft smirk on your bitten lips. “What’s that look for, huh?” he teases, turning off the burner and sliding off the desk.

You shrug. “Nothin’…”

“I missed you.”

You scoff when he wraps his arms around you. His wide palms smooth over your back. “You just saw me.”

“It doesn’t count when I’m with Tommy and Carol. I need you all to myself…”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he murmurs lowly, ducking down to kiss you. His plush lips lock with yours, tasting of nicotine and chewing gum — a near-lethal concoction. He smiles against your mouth when you melt further into him. He parts from you with a gentle smack.

“They’re starting to like me, I think,” you mumble, smoothing your hands over his chest. “Tommy and Carol.”

“I think so, too.”

“It’s awful.”

“Absolutely disgusting,” he concurs, grinning wide when you giggle.

“But, you know, maybe we wouldn’t have to hide anymore,” you stammer, gaze falling when it becomes too hard to hold his. “If they don’t think I’m, like, the lamest person on the planet.”

Steve’s brows furrow. “What do you mean?”

“Well, that’s why you don’t want them to know about us, right? ‘Cause you’re King Steve, and I’m… fish bait,” you conclude with a forced laugh.

“No,” he answers instantly. “What? No. That’s not— That’s not why.”

“Oh.”

“I don’t want them to know about us because they’re assholes,” Steve confesses. “I mean, they were awful to Nancy when we were together. ‘Cause they’re miserable, and they hate when other people are actually nice. I just don’t want them to… ruin anything, that’s all…”

You muss with a rogue thread at the neckline of his sweater and smile quietly to yourself. “I thought you were scared because you accidentally fell in love with the Wallflower instead of the Prom Queen.”

Steve scoffs. “I didn’t accidentally fall in love with you, first of all.”

“No?” you murmur, brow quirking in disbelief. 

“No, it was very intentional.”

“I don’t believe that,” you argue with a lighthearted chuckle. You think it’s easier than saying, I don’t believe you because there’s no way you love someone like me because you want to.

Steve’s palms squeeze your sides reassuringly, like he can hear all the mean thoughts swirling in your head. “Well, you didn’t make it any easier on me,” he tells you, a crooked smile tugging at his pink lips. “You started talkin’ all smart in Ms. Click’s class, and I started melting.”

“That’s when you knew you liked me?” you scoff. “After I gave a presentation about geopolitical tensions in China?”

He exhales sharply through his nose, licking his lips with heavy eyelids. “See what I mean? That’s hot.”

“God, you’re such a boy.”

[dclovesdanny]

Dead Serious

4/4

Danny had made peace with the fact he did not have a soulmate. He had! After several years of no response to the countless drawings and writing notes on his skin, he had grown resigned to the fact that he was part of the 5% who did not have soulmates. He was fine with that.

(Dash would tease him about how no one would ever love him, adding salt to an already irritated wound. His parents were soulmates, and he remembered when he was drawing on his father’s arms and watching as it appeared on his mother’s. Jazz had been drawing and writing to her soulmate for years. Her soulmates name was Jason, and she always talked about how he was with her. She was one of the few people who comforted him when he stopped drawing or writing to soulmate. )

Damien taught at an early age that there was no use for soulmates. They were only distractions. He knew grandfather had no soulmate, and his mother had never responded to her own. He never responded to the drawings on his arms notes the notes in English on his (and he didn’t try harder just because he wanted to read his soulmate writing that would be ridiculous.)

Damien never told his family about having a soulmate. Even as he slowly got used to the differences between them and slowly learned how his grandfather was he could never bring himself to respond to the slowly lessening drawings and messages.(He couldn’t bring himself to respond because deep down he knew he didn’t deserve a soulmate. He was a monster, a demon. He didn’t deserve it.)

Danny stopped trying so desperately to contact his soulmate at age 11(the age he held his sister as she cried, her soulmate’s last message scribbled in desperate frantic writing on her arm. He never resented his parents so much when they didn’t even leave the lab for two days, not paying any mind to their sobbing child on the floor above them.)(it was the first time he didn’t envy having a soulmate.)

He was fourteen when he started drawing on his arms again.(it was shaky, much more than the older drawings, but even if he didn’t have a soulmate, he wanted to leave them a mark, just in case, the same way Jazz wrote quotes from different books on her arms.)

(When he found out Vlad didn’t have a soulmate, he refused to acknowledge another similarity they shared. He refused to think about how Vlad’s desperation made Danny think of his own desperate writing for his soulmate. Soulmates were a topic he never spoke of, and Vlad must have known, must have found out about how Danny didn’t have one, but he never commented on it. (It was the only boundary that was never crossed.))

(Damian wasn’t disappointed when his soulmate stopped writing to him. he didn’t trace over his arms, wishing that he had the confidence to write back. He didn’t spend hours wondering if his soulmate was gone without knowing Damian had seen him. He didn’t trace over the drawings his soulmate made with awe after four years of silence.)

Damian always covered up, so he was the only one who noticed when his soulmate started writing to him again. Never sentences never notes like they were before, but shaky drawings appeared on his skin. They were less detailed than before, almost shaky, as if the person drawing them couldn’t hold a pencil, steady, but they were real. Damian never said a word.

It was October 15 when Damien saw something on his arms that made his blood go cold. A message that he read over and over while commandeering the plane and ignoring the rest of his family yelling for him to explain himself. He desperately calibrated the jet while staring at the words, praying to a God he did not believe in that he would not be too late.(Unaware that Todd was following going in the same direction with the similar message written on his arm from a girl that Jason had deemed too good for him.)

Dear soulmate, even if you aren’t there. Everyone in Casper high is writing on their arms and I might as well try to warn someone. I am from Amity Park, Illinois, and we are under attack. The GIW have cut all outside communication. We are currently hiding in Casper high school, barricading the entrances, but it will not last long.

According to the government, we are not legally sentient or human. The agents outside want to dissect us, citing that we are scum. I don’t want to see my classmates die at the hands of my parents. I don’t want to see my friends and my sister die.

I don’t know if you are there, or if I really don’t have a soulmate, but I don’t want to die (fully) without leaving some sort of note.

My name is Danny. I love you. I’m sorry.

[jiyascepter]

Caught You | 18+ Only

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Loki x F!reader

Words: 4012

Warnings/Content: SMUT; Avenger! Loki & Avenger! Y/n, Themes of dub-con, dark-ish Loki??, dom!Loki, pervy!Loki, possessive, jealous loki, use of loki's magic (in a lot of sexual stuff), restraints, bondage, biting, licking, aggressive, pissed loki, praise, slight degradation, there's a tattoo on y/n's thigh (for the plot!), other mcu characters also make an appearance, clit licking, fingering, overstimulation, p in v.

Please lmk if I missed anything! Loki is a bit of red-flaggy in this one, please keep in mind this is only a fanfiction.

Summary: When you make fun of Loki's magic, he "demonstrates" how his magic can be useful. In many, ehm..ways. What did you expect?

A/n: i moved the title in the corner so that i can keep seeing tommys's sexy face in the middle 😮‍💨 im trying to make my fics dirtier but it's not quite coming down in my works, like it's in my mind but it's not easy to express??? im trying & hopefully it'll come soon

The cavernous, dimly-lit warehouse echoed with the sounds of clashing metal and grunts of exertion. The Avengers were locked in combat with a band of mercenaries armed with advanced weaponry.

Tony was in the air, repulsor beams lighting up the darkness, while Natasha and Clint worked in tandem, their movements precise and deadly. Thor’s hammer, Mjölnir, was a blur as it struck down the enemies with thunderous force.

In the midst of the chaos, Loki stood with an air of detached amusement, casting spells with flicks of his wrists. His magic sent mercenaries flying, created illusions to confuse their ranks, and conjured barriers to protect the teammates. But Loki's magic, powerful and unpredictable, was also a bit reckless tonight.

Maybe it was the leather suit you were wearing today.

"Loki, for the love of—watch where you're aiming!" You shouted as you narrowly avoided being hit by a stray spell meant for an enemy.

Your eyes flashed with annoyance as you shot him a glare. "Are you trying to get us all killed?"

Loki smirked, eyeing you up, not taking you seriously. "Perhaps if you were more attentive, you wouldn't find yourself in such precarious positions, darling."

You scowled and ducked under a swipe from a mercenary, retaliating with a swift punch that sent your opponent sprawling.

Ugh, you hated how he always carried that stupid smirk.

"Maybe if your magic was actually useful, we wouldn't be in precarious positions to begin with!"

Loki's eyes narrowed slightly, a spark of irritation flashing through his otherwise calm demeanor. "Is that so? I seem to recall saving you from a similar predicament just last week."

"By causing it in the first place!" You shot back, dodging another mercenary's attack and taking him down with a well-placed kick. 

Loki rolls his eyes and runs in the other direction. With a flick of his wrist, he conjured an illusion, making a group of mercenaries see each other as Avengers.

Confused, they turned on one another, giving the team a moment of respite. But the spell was too potent, and soon the illusion spread, affecting even the teammates. 

Chaos erupted as friends and foes became indistinguishable. 

"What the—" Tony exclaimed while flying over the scene. 

"Damn it, Loki!" You screamed, ducking, as Natasha took a swing at you, mistaking you for an enemy.

"Enough!" Thor bellowed, his hammer smashing into the ground to create a shockwave that knocked everyone off their feet and dispelled the illusion.

The mercenaries, now disoriented, were quickly subdued.

The flight back home was quiet. Everyone was either tired, tending to their wounds, or just rethinking what happened back there. 

Once you landed, the rest of the Avengers stepped down the Quinjet and walked into the building to their rooms. 

"Loki, wait." Steve calls out and walks towards Loki in the lobby.

“About today—”

“Nobody died, Rogers.” Loki replies. 

"That is not an achievement," You murmur to yourself loudly on purpose for him to hear while taking a sip from your favourite grey-coloured sipper. 

Loki and Steve both glanced at you, with Steve carrying a hint of a smile on his face while Loki scowled and turned back to Steve.

You could tell he was not impressed. 

A win for you.

Steve clears his throat, turning serious once more. "Look, what happened today was not good. We cannot work as a team if we don't know half of your tricks."

Loki grins. "Well, that's the fun, isn't it? A surprise for everyone.”

Steve raises his eyebrows. "But it isn’t helping, Lo-"

"Helping? His magic is useless half the time."

Loki shoots an eye at you when you say that, and you could tell the God wasn't pleased.

"He's showing off in front of everyone, like the arrogant ass he is." You go on, while Loki watches you with his grave, sharp eyes.

Why wasn't he replying with his usual snarky comments today? 

Steve gives a light chuckle and pats Loki's shoulder as if feeling sorry for him, "Be careful next time, that's all I ask," and walks away through the corridor, leaving you and Loki to yourselves.

While waiting for the elevator, you silently stand in front of the doors, waiting for it to arrive.

Until you feel a hard pressure against your back.

The sensation is unmistakable—a solid, unyielding presence, warm and firm. Loki's chest. His closeness sends an involuntary shiver down your spine. You can feel the steady rise and fall of his breath and subtle heat radiating through his clothes.

You stiffen, unsure whether to move away or stay still, the elevator's arrival feeling like an eternity away.

You decide to say something to break the uncomfortable silence.

"Ego broken, Loki~?" You say his name in a sing-song voice.

"Do you enjoy testing my patience, mortal?" he says, leaning down to your ear.

"Someone has to keep you in check," you reply, your voice steady despite the proximity.

The elevator reaches your floor, and with a little chime, its doors open. You proceed to take a step forward to enter the elevator when his hand grabs hold of the back side of your neck and pulls you back to him.

"Careful," he almost whispers, his breath ghosting over your skin, "your tongue is going to get you in trouble one day."

You pause for a moment, feeling the tension thicken in the air, before you turn your head out of his hands to look at him. "Oh, I'm sorry, did I hurt the big bad trickster's feelings?" You taunt, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Maybe if your magic wasn't so unreliable, we wouldn't be in these messes. Or do you need Daddy Odin to give you some pointers on how to actually be useful?"

Loki's eyes flare with fury, and in no time he grabs your neck once again and strides into the elevator, pinning your head to the panels. His body pressed against yours with a force that left little room for doubt about his intensity.

His frame, tall and lean yet undeniably strong, exerting a commanding presence as he pins you against the cool metal of the elevator wall. You can feel the heat emanating from his body, a stark contrast to the chill of the metal against your cheek. 

He was so close to you, you could smell his sultry, intoxicating smell on him.

"You think my magic is useless, don’t you..." He whispers, his breath ghosting on your skin. "I’ll make sure you regret saying that."

"I don't "think", it's a fact." You try to push him back with your elbow. “Let me go, Loki.” You say it firmly. 

"Not yet, vixen." He says so, and the elevator doors shut by themselves. And with one flick of his fingers, the front chain of your tight leather suit yanked open down to the end of your belly.

Did he just–

"I’ll make sure to demonstrate how useful my magic can be." He says and looks down to notice you were not even wearing a bra underneath.

He grins at the sight, licking his lower lip. "Naughty girl." He coos in your ear while his fingers work their way to your belly. 

His fingers, though possessing a hint of coldness at first, quickly warmed against your skin as they made contact with your belly. Each touch sent a jolt of electricity through you, igniting a fire that danced just beneath the surface. 

"Let. Me. Go." You say, trying to stand your ground, but your attempts are futile. 

"Told you no, darling." He says while his fingers trailed up to your nipples, sending a shiver down your spine as goosebumps rose in their wake.

It was a sensation that left you feeling exposed and vulnerable, yet strangely exhilarated by the raw intensity of his touch. 

He slides down your suit from your shoulders, proceeding with a graze of his tongue on your skin. 

"Mmm…sweet," he murmurs, sucking on your shoulder, "unlike those words you use."

"FUCK. YOU." You reply with a gruff.

Loki chuckles darkly against your skin, his breath hot and tantalizing. "Oh, darling, you will," he murmurs, his voice dripping with seductive menace. "But not before I teach you to respect a God."

He pulls down your suit lower, his lips kissing the back of your neck, followed by melty little kisses down your bareback. Despite your discontent, you couldn’t help but feel turned on by him.

As Loki pushes down your suit to your thighs, his eyes catch sight of a small tattoo etched on the inside of your thigh. The ink reads the name of your ex-boyfriend. Loki's eyes darken with a mix of curiosity and possessiveness. 

He paused, his brows furrowing as he read the name inked there. "Well, well, well," he murmured, his voice a mix of curiosity and disdain. "So that’s what your little skirt was hinting at the meeting a few days ago..."

He traced the tattoo lightly with his finger, sending a shiver through your body.

So this bastard was always watching you?

You grit your teeth, anger and embarrassment flushing through you. "It’s none of your business, Loki."

He tightens his grip on your neck slightly—not enough to hurt, but enough to assert his dominance. "I know."

"But this mark... it irks me. An insignificant mortal claiming a part of you." He pinches your thigh, and you try to jerk away your leg but cannot. 

You squirmed against his grip, but he held you firmly, his eyes dark and intense as they bore into yours. "Let it go, Loki," you demanded, trying to maintain your composure.

He leaned closer, his lips brushing against the tattoo. "Why should I?" he whispered, his voice a dangerous purr. "Why should I let some forgotten lover's mark go unchallenged?"

He gives you a rather harsh bite on your shoulder, trailing his lips to kiss your neck, which makes you whimper, which makes him grin.

He pulls away a bit, and with the flick of his wrists, an invisible force pins your arms above your head, securing you in place against the elevator wall. You struggle briefly, but the bonds hold firm. Loki steps back, his eyes raking over your exposed form with a predatory gaze.

Before you could retort, he bent down, turning his body against the elevator and facing you from below. He kissed the tattoo with deliberate slowness, his lips soft and maddeningly sensual.

The act was both possessive and teasing, with his tongue swirling repeatedly on the same spot that was making you crazy. You gasped, the sensation overwhelming, and a part of you hated how your body responded to his touch. 

"Shh, people can still hear us, darling. Even if they cannot enter." He says placing pecks up and down your thigh, evaporating your steady facade away.

"Now, let's see what other secrets you're hiding," he murmurs, his hands sliding down to your hips. He hooks his fingers under the waistband of your panties, slowly pulling them down and exposing you completely.

You saw his eyes almost sparkle at the sight, placing a kiss on your mound, making you flinch against the metal. Where and when did your suit disappear? You didn’t know.

He leans close and starts exploring your already wet clit with his tongue. Holding your waist in his hands, he kept stealing glances up at your aroused form, watching your expressions while you gasped every time his warm tongue darted on your needy pussy.

The god had a talent for his tongue. The silver tongue. 

"Are you still with him?" He murmured, pulling away his face from your pussy, making you let out a complaining whine.

He holds up his two fingers to caress your folds. "Answer."

"N-no…" You answer, your voice quivering in pleasure.

"Then why isn’t it off?" He says this, glancing at your tattoo.

"I never…Loki-"

He pushes two fingers in. "You never what?"

You shudder as Loki's fingers push inside you, his question hanging in the air, demanding an answer. Your mind races, caught between the intense pleasure and the need to explain yourself.

"I never... had the chance," you manage to gasp, your voice barely steady. "It didn't mean anything anymore. I just...fuck-forgot about it."

Loki's eyes narrow slightly as he studies your face, his fingers moving slowly inside you, curling and stroking in a way that makes coherent thoughts nearly impossible. He doesn't seem entirely convinced.

"Forgot about it?" he repeats, his voice low and dangerous. "Or perhaps you wanted a reminder of something you couldn't let go?" 

"No…" You moan, writhing against the panel with your hands above your head, your fingers aching to dive into his hair. 

He starts to pump his fingers in and out of you with a deliberate rhythm, his thumb circling your clit with maddening precision. You squirm, your faint moans echoing the elevator.

"Good," he murmurs, his voice a seductive purr. "Because I don't share, darling. And I don't like to be reminded of what once was."

You moan, your body arching against his touch. His words send a thrill through you, and the possessiveness in his tone both intimidating and exhilarating.

"You know I can just turn you into a pretty mannequin for me so I can do whatever I want with you…but I want to feel you squirm... to mewl... like a little prey." He says watching your face while feeling your pussy start to clench around his fingers.

"Now, let's make sure you never forget who you belong to, hm?" Loki whispers, his lips brushing against your thigh as he speaks. His mouth returns to your clit, his tongue flicking and sucking with a relentless intensity that drives you wild. 

"Yeah, that’s right, just keep on making those little sounds for me." He says it with a satisfied smile curling on his lips, and he resumes his ministrations with renewed fervor. 

The combination of his fingers inside you and his mouth on your clit sends you spiralling into a mind-shattering orgasm, your body convulsing with pleasure as you cry out his name.

As the waves of ecstasy subside, Loki slowly withdraws his fingers. He stands, his eyes locking onto yours. He releases your binds away and turns you to him, and his thumb caresses your lower lip as if studying it for a second before he holds you against the wall, cupping your cheek, and kisses you almost fiercely. 

And gosh, you needed that. You needed that and more.

"Y/n, is that you?"

Both of you freeze to your seats when you hear Thor’s voice outside the elevator. 

Loki's eyes narrow in annoyance, and he quickly glances towards the elevator doors. "Shh," he murmurs against your lips, his voice barely a whisper. "We wouldn't want to get caught now, would we?"

He continues exploring your mouth, and the kisses start spreading to your neck, tongue, and teeth, making their wild appearances every once in a while. 

Until you couldn’t help it and let out a moan.

"This door is not openi- Y/n??" Thor repeats again. "Wait, let me call Stark.-" 

Your heart races when Thor calls out again because of your moan. Loki’s eyes narrow, and he pulls away. "Are you doing this on purpose? Just another one of your games so we can get caught and you can have your fun?"

He gives your pussy a little slap, and you whine a no. 

In a swift motion, he wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you tightly against him. You barely have time to register the shift before the air around you shimmers and the familiar confines of the elevator vanish, replaced by the opulent and dimly lit interior of a room unknown to you.

The room is a stark contrast to the sterile metal of the elevator. Rich tapestries line the walls, and candles flicker, casting a warm, golden glow. A large, ornate bed dominates the space, its dark, luxurious linens inviting in a way that makes your heart race. 

Loki wastes no time. He sweeps you off your feet, carrying you to the bed with an urgency that sends a thrill through you. He lays you down gently, his gaze intense as he takes in your still-naked form. His hands trace over your skin, as if committing every inch to memory. 

The air is thick with the scent of sandalwood and something uniquely Loki—intoxicating and alluring. "Now, where were we?" He purrs, his fingers tracing a delicate line down your spine, sending shivers through your body.

You can barely catch your breath; the intensity of the moment overwhelming. "Loki, what if Thor—"

"Thor won't find us," Loki interrupts, his voice a low growl. "This is my domain. No one enters without my permission."

"Now," he whispers, his lips brushing against your ear, "let us continue our little magic demonstration." 

The silken sheets cool against your heated skin, and with Loki's hands everywhere—caressing, teasing, exploring every inch of your body—his touch both gentle and demanding, leaving you breathless and craving more. 

"So beautiful," his voice dripping with seductive menace as he conjures a binding spell that secures your wrists to the bedposts. 

You gasp, your body arching against the restraints, as Loki's mouth finds your breasts, his tongue swirling around your nipples with maddening precision. The sensations are overwhelming, and your mind is lost in a haze of pleasure and need. 

Loki's mouth moves with deliberate precision, his tongue tracing intricate patterns over your breasts. Each flick of his tongue sends jolts of pleasure through your body, making you arch and writhe against the silken sheets. The restraints on your wrists keep you firmly in place.

"Loki…"

"Mhm," he hums, enjoying your squirms. But he wanted more.

He uses his powers to amplify his touch, making your nerve endings sing with heightened sensitivity. You gasp and moan, the intensity of his magic overwhelming your senses.

You can feel the magic pulsating through you, heightening your awareness of every touch and every kiss. His lips move from your breasts to the sensitive skin just below, his tongue flicking out to taste you. The combination of his mouth and his magic almost too much to bear.

His free hand trails down your body, leaving a path of fire in its wake. As his fingers reach your inner thighs, you feel a new surge of his magic, more potent and concentrated. It wraps around your thighs, making your muscles quiver with anticipation.

Loki conjures small, delicate tendrils of magic that wrap around your nipples, gently tugging and twisting. The sensation is unlike anything you've ever felt before—a perfect blend of pleasure and pain that leaves you gasping for breath. 

He moves lower, his mouth leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses down your belly. The tendrils of magic follow his path, amplifying every sensation, making you feel as if your skin is on fire. You can barely think or breathe; your mind consumed by the overwhelming pleasure.

As he reaches your hips, his fingers part your folds, and you feel a rush of cool air against your wetness. His mouth hovers just above your clit, his breath hot and tantalizing. 

"Tell me, darling," Loki whispers, his lips brushing against your most sensitive spot, "how does it feel to be at the mercy of a god?"

Before you can answer, his tongue flicks out, teasing your clit with delicate, precise strokes. His magic enhances every touch, making you moan and writhe against the restraints. You can feel your orgasm building, the pleasure coiling tight in your belly. 

"Loki I-" He sees your upcoming orgasm and pulls away quickly, enjoying your needy, complaining moan for him.

"Not so easy, darling."

And with another display of his magic, he completely gets rid of his clothes, his disrobed body turning you on even more, the heat of need between your legs almost unbearable.

He brings his already-hard cock near your lips. "Kiss it." and you do, the light hum of satisfaction he makes making you want to absolutely suck him out rather than just a little kiss.

"My filthy little vixen," he says, eyes blazing with hunger as he positions himself between your legs. His grip tightens on your hips, holding you in place as he teases your entrance with the tip of his cock, the sensation sending shivers of anticipation through you, "get ready for your god."

He lets out a low growl, a dark and seductive sound, before slowly pushing into you, his length stretching and filling you completely. The feeling is exquisite, with every inch of him sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

"You feel so perfect," Loki murmurs, his voice husky with desire. "Every part of you was made just for me."

He begins to move, slow and deliberate, his thrusts deep and controlled. Each motion designed to draw out the maximum pleasure to make you feel every inch of him. The binding spell keeps your wrists secured to the bedposts, preventing you from reaching out to touch him, to claw at his back as the pleasure intensifies.

Loki's eyes never leave yours, the connection between you palpable and electric. He leans down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth with the same intensity as his thrusts. You respond eagerly, your moans muffled against his lips, your body arching to meet his. 

His magic continues to amplify every sensation, making your skin hypersensitive, every touch sends sparks of pleasure through you. The tendrils of magic around your nipples tighten and twist, adding to the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your body.

"Loki," you gasp, barely able to form coherent words. "I can't... it's too much..."

He smirks, his eyes dark with lust. "You can take it, darling. You will take it. You will take everything I give you."

His pace quickens, and his thrusts become more urgent and more demanding. The bed creaks beneath you, the sound mingling with your moans and the wet, slick sounds of your bodies moving together. The pleasure builds rapidly, creating a coiling heat in your belly that threatens to consume you entirely.

Loki's hand moves between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing in tight, precise circles. The additional stimulation pushes you closer to the edge, your body trembling with the effort to hold back your impending orgasm.

"Come for me, darling," Loki commands, his voice a low, seductive growl. "Come for your god."

His words are your undoing. With a cry, you shatter, the orgasm ripping through you with an intensity that leaves you breathless and shaking. The pleasure is overwhelming, your vision going white as wave after wave of ecstasy crashes over you.

Loki continues to thrust through your orgasm, prolonging your pleasure, his own release imminent. His movements become erratic, his grip on your hips tightening as he chases his own climax.

You can feel him throbbing inside you, his breaths coming in ragged gasps as he finally lets go, his own orgasm ripping through him.

With a final, powerful thrust, he spills into you, his groan of pleasure vibrating through your body. He collapses on top of you, his weight comforting and grounding as you both catch your breath, the aftershocks of pleasure still coursing through you.

For a moment, there's only the sound of your ragged breathing, the scent of sex and sweat heavy in the air. Loki's hand comes up to gently cup your cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray tear of overwhelming pleasure. 

"Fuck, you drive me wild." He murmurs breathlessly. 

"Did you like that, darling?" Loki murmurs against your skin, his voice a seductive purr. "My magic can do so much more." 

You breathlessly chuckle while he traces patterns on your skin. His fingers caress down to your thigh, where he glances at your tattoo.

"We can’t have that." He says in a low voice and grazes his hand over your skin, and the tattoo vanishes.  Loki’s touch lingers on your thigh where the tattoo once was, his magic leaving your skin smooth and unmarked.

"And now you’re mine."

┈➤ Taglist in the comments! Lmk if you want to join or just click this 𖹭

[selineram3421]

Well I just read you newest story about y/n being Husker's younger sibling. Especially how much focus there was on Al just wanting to piss him off.

So if I might suggest: Alastor with a y/n who's Charlie's sibling/Lucifer's child. Seriously we saw him already losing it when all claimed to see a daughter figure in Charlie...Al flirting, etc. with a different child might actually kill him.

Anyway I love your work, keep it up ^-^

- 🖤

*cackles like an insane person*

Royally Pissed

Prologue

Alastor X Morningstar Reader

Warnings ⚠

⚠ reader is blonde for obvious reasons, cussing, mention of depression, angry short King ⚠

Lucifer treasured his children.

Of course he messed up at times, not every parent is perfect. Though he does regret not seeing his children all that often.

Charlie was doing something. Somewhere.

Shit, that sounds bad.

And you would come by and check up on him every so often.

While Charlie looked like him, she had her mother's height. You looked more like Litlith..but had his shortness.

Of course you were adorable!

His littlest one, born a few seconds after Charlie. Twins that came out like opposites in looks but similar in some ways.

He gifted you a rubber duck for every birthday. One that had a tutu, one that had multiple eyes, one that had a built in music box, one that had a jester hat, one that honked like a goose, one that-

Ok, it was a lot.

But you loved his duckies! You even had bookshelves just for them!

Currently you were with him in the castle. Or more like you being in the other room while he was working on another duck.

Then he got a phone call from Charlie.

"Daughter. Daughter calling!", he said in surprise.

After talking about Heaven and a bit about the hotel, he got excited when she said for him to come see the hotel for himself.

"My daughter wants to see me~!", he sang before pointing at a duck on the floor. "Take that depression!"

"Dad?", he heard you call out, finding you opening the door. "Do you want lunch now?", you asked.

Lucifer cheered out your name and grabbed your hands before twirling you around. "Charlie called! She invited me to her hotel thingy!"

"Oh, that's nice.", you said. "I hope you have fun."

"You can come too!", he stopped the twirling. "We'll all get to hang out again!"

You smiled and agreed.

"Great! We've got to be there in an hour!", he says before letting you go to skip out of the room.

Staying put, you glance at the rubber duck filled room with slight worry.

"It wasn't this bad last time.."

.

You stood behind your father as you both waited for the doors to open.

It's been a while since you last saw Charlie, it being around a few months. Looking around you can see she cleaned up the building quite well. It was more broken down when it first appeared on the news when she pitched her idea.

I'm glad she's doing well. You thought before hearing the door.

"Charlie!", your dad said with a wide smile, holding his arms open.

"Hey Dad.", your sister waved before getting glomped with a tight hug. "Uh..it's uh, good to see you too Dad.", she said before having to push him off to breathe.

Then she noticed you, saying your name in excitement.

"I would have done more if I knew you were coming to visit too!", she said and brought you into the hotel by your hand.

"No, you don't have to worry. I'm sure what you have is enough.", you reassured as you followed her in.

From the corner of your eye, you saw two demons right next to the door. On your right there was someone in red and turned your head to see a tall deer demon. Looking to your left, you saw a woman with long white hair and an X over her eye.

"Hello..", you waved with a shy smile.

.

Alastor glared down at the King as soon as the short man barged into the hotel.

How could that be more powerful than me? He thought as his eye twitched.

Then Charlie pushed her father off and excitedly greeted someone outside, grabbing their hand to bring them in.

His eyes widened at the smaller version of Lilith.

"Hello..", they waved shyly at everyone in the room.

And then the little cat that the Princess had walked over to greet the two.

"Kiki!", the two blondes kneeled down to pet the one-eyed feline.

After walking around, Lucifer commented on the bar, so Alastor teleported closer before speaking up.

"Just some of the renovations we had done!", he pointed at the bar with his microphone staff. "Adds a bit of color! Don't you think?", he said before facing the King.

He teleported even closer to the Kind and introduced himself after the monarch questioned who he was, shaking the apple cane instead of the King's hand.

As soon as the deer demon let go, he wiped his hand on his coat.

"You are much shorter in real life.", he said pinching his fingers a bit, emphasizing how small the blonde man was.

"Who is this? Who is this?", Lucifer asked and turned to his daughter once seeing her walk over. "Is this the bellhop?", he asked her.

"Aha! No!", Alastor said before fixing his bow. "I am the host of the hotel! You might of heard of me from my radio broadcasts."

"Hm. Nope!", the King pretended to think before dusting off his sleeve. "Maybe it's why Charlie calls it the HAZBIN hotel! Ah ha ha!", he nudges his daughter with his elbow.

"Ha ha ha!", the deer tilts his head at every short laugh that left his mouth before looking at his claws with a knowing smile. "It was actually my idea."

"Ah haha! Well it's not very clever!", the blonde replied leaning forward a bit.

"Ah ha!", the Radio demon laughed loudly before leaning down to meet the King's gaze. "Fuck you.", he said very clearly, static only in the background.

"OK!", Charlie pushed the two away. "Ok! Anyway!", she said as the two looked away from each other. "Dad!", she turned to her father.

While the two were occupied, he saw the small Lilith looking Morningstar talking with the others, wearing a bright smile as they laughed.

He focused back on the conversation when the Princess said his name.

"We wouldn't have been able to pretty it up this much.", she said and the two blondes turned to face him.

"Charlie has a very unique vision!", he said with his usual smile as he walked over. "I am happy to fulfil her bizarre requests!", he places a hand on Charlie's shoulder.

"Thank you Alastor.", the blonde smiled, feeling happy.

He noticed the way Lucifer hated it, and calmly smiled.

"Quite an impressive young lady.", he said and tilted the Princess's head up a bit with his hand before moving his claws back to himself. "We're all very proud of her.", he says and places an arm around her shoulder, pushing her a little close.

Having enough, the King cleared his throat.

"Charlie! Dear.", he said before pushing between the two, getting them separated. "Why don't you introduce me to your OTHER friends!", he pointed towards the group with his end of his staff.

"Oh! Yes, of course!", Charlie said and began introducing Vaggie to her father.

Then someone got his attention with a tap on his arm.

Snapping his head towards the person, he saw the Lilith look alike move their hand back.

"Oh, I apologize. I called out to you but got no response.", they said with a bit of a frown. "I didn't mean to upset you."

"Upset?", he questioned, still wearing his smile.

"Yes, you furrowed your brows a bit when I tapped you.", the small blonde gestured with their finger.

How observant..

"No, I am not upset at all!", he gave a quick closed eyed smile. "And your name is..?"

"Oh, I'm-"

And then they were interrupted when the chandelier fell.

This was supposed to be a oneshot but then I remembered how detailed this would have to be.

~Seline, the person.

Part 1

Taglist@

@ducky-died-inside @scary-noodlesblog @c4rved-pumpk1n @stolas-thebirb @naelys-the-aster @biromanticboba @kiraisastay @pooplyface1423 @lbcreations-blog @gallantys @117s-girl @spiderlegsling @alastorsgoldie @repentant-repeller @kcsketches @lofasofabread @kotaleee @im-coolrat @superzombiewho @speckle-meow-meow @jammcookie @dilucragnvindr-my-beloved @trashbin-nie @koioli @fatherlesschild2 @mmik3yy @just-here-reading @nealeart @hudiexiaoying @crystal-multiplefandomlover @glowinggoldfish0 @tiredgamerhere @fluffy-koalala @valenfawkes @+?

ML II for Alastor🎙 | RP ChL 👑

[eddieandbird]

Elevator—

After breaking up with your boyfriend, Steve unexpectedly swoops in to be your rebound.

a/n: this one was in the drafts for a min and i finally made it! enjoy! -bird

cw: smut | 3.5k words | f!reader | fuckboy!steve | protected | oral f! + m! receiving | fingering | pinv

————

The electric hum of the fluorescent lights seemed to taunt you as you made your way to the elevator door. You had been so raw with emotion for hours that you stood motionlessly as if any sudden moments would have you fall apart completely. Even the gentle ding of the elevator car arriving made you jump.

Steve Harrington was already inside when you practically limped in. Faint rings of makeup surrounded your eyes and your hair was carelessly tossed into a low ponytail. He chuckled, assuming you were having a similar morning to his.

A charming smile appeared on his lips as he said “Taking the ol’ walk of shame, huh? Me too-”

“Steve, please shut up. I just got dumped,” You interrupted him before he said anything that would humiliate you further.

His thick eyebrows connected as he processed what you said. “Oh damn. I’m sorry I just thought-“

“It’s fine, I’m fine. I just want to move on with my day,” You said shakily, brushing off any fake sympathetic bullshit you assumed he was going to make.

You and Steve had a few classes together and passed by each other quite a bit due to your now ex-boyfriend staying in the same dorm building, but nothing more.

Steve's smile dropped and was replaced by a pout as you cut him off. He stood up straight, leaning back against the wall of the elevator and crossing his arms over his chest as he let out a low whistle. "Damn. Sounds like it didn't end so great,"

He looked you up and down and felt a pang of sympathy in his chest. He was never good at comforting others, but he wanted to cheer you up somehow. He stayed silent for a moment before eventually blurting out "That boyfriend of yours sounds like a tool."

You snorted in response to his comment.

“Yeah, he was the fucking worst,” You laughed at yourself for having such a cold demeanor when you walked in. “I’m sure I saw something good in him in the beginning, but I’m not going to stick around for a guy who can’t figure his shit out,” You shook your head.

Steve chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest. "I think we all go through that phase," he reassured you. The corner of his mouth tugged upwards in a slight smile as his brown eyes flickered with mischief. "So, am I right in assuming you had a sleepless night? I can only hope he at least gave you a good send-off,"

You scoffed as you turned to look at him. “Are you asking if I had break-up sex, Harrington?”

You took slight offense to his insinuation, but what did you really expect from the jock with half a brain. You decided to take it lightly and not deck him in the face at this moment.

Steve raised his hands defensively, letting out an exaggerated gasp that turned into a laugh as he smirked back at you.

"Just asking the important questions, sweetheart. No need to get all fired up."

He leaned back against the wall of the elevator, cocking an eyebrow in a teasing manner. "I take it that means no, then?"

You bit your cheek, contemplating if you wanted to divulge that information.

“No, we didn’t have sex last night,” You admitted in a frustrated grumble.

A smirk threatened to creep up on your lips as you thought of how ridiculous this conversation was. You weren’t the type to share the gory details of your relationship, but here Steve was, somehow charming his way into talking to you more.

The elevator dinged and you walked out first. Steve couldn't help but let out a low whistle in response to your answer. His smirk grew a bit wider as he followed you out of the elevator. His eyes scanned over you for a moment before he spoke again.

"Damn, what a waste of a night."

He fell into step beside you, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he glanced over at you. "So, you must think I'm heartless now, huh? I'd be pretty surprised if you didn't think that, at this point,"

“I do think you’re kind of being an asshole. I did just get my heart broken and all,” You scoffed teasingly.

You were headed back to your dorm, not sure how to shake off Steve. Of course he was being incredibly insensitive, you didn’t expect much else from guys like him.

Steve chuckled, throwing out his hands in a defensive manner as he protested, "Hey, I'm just being honest here. If you want some sensitive bullshit, go find a guy with more depth than a puddle. I'm just giving my two cents,"

He walked right alongside you, keeping pace with your stride as he glanced over at you. He took note of your destination and smirked a bit. "So we're heading back to your place, huh?"

“No,” You said, shaking your head rapidly. “I’m going back to my place and you’re just following me around like a creep,”

You had a sarcastic smile as you walked a bit faster with your arms folded on your chest. Every few steps you’d look back to see Steve’s shit-eating grin.

Steve chuckled as he followed after you, his long legs easily keeping up with your pace. He matched your expression with a smirk of his own, enjoying your attitude even if you were trying to kick him out.

"Oh come on. Don't be like that," he sucked his teeth. "I'm not being a creep, I'm just making sure that you get back safely. Isn't that what a gentleman does?"

You rolled your eyes as you finally got to your dorm. You unlocked the door and said “My hero. How else was I supposed to travel to the building next door, in broad daylight, on a very private campus?” You stepped inside and closing the door halfway.

You poked your head out once more. “Thank you, Steve. I’ll see you around,”

Steve leaned against the door frame with a sly smile on his face. His eyes sparkled with mischief as he looked down at you, his arms crossed over his chest.

"You could at least invite me in, after I've been such a good chaperon, making sure you got back safe and sound."

You groaned before you swung the door open. “Fine. Would you like to come in, Harrington?”

You knew you shouldn’t let him in, but he was too persistent and irritating. You thought if you wasted enough of his time, he’d eventually get bored and get out of your hair.

Steve's smirk widened as you finally relented and opened the door wider. He sauntered in as if he owned the place, his eyes scanning the room with an almost predatory look.

"Don't mind if I do."

He flopped down on your bed, propping his arms behind his head like he was right at home, and winked at you.

You crinkled your nose in disgust as he lay there like he was expecting something out of you. You took a seat on your floor, studying him with a tilted head like he was a zoo animal in its enclosure. Steve watched take a seat on the floor, his eyes taking in your appearance without an ounce of subtlety.

"You just gonna watch me lay here, or...?" he teased, arching an eyebrow in your direction.

“Yup. Just waiting until you’re ready to leave,” You smiled with a fake innocence.

You brought up your legs, resting your chin on your knees with an unamused look. You were cursing yourself for even putting yourself there in the first place. If only you kept your mouth shut on that stupid elevator.

“I know you want me to stay a while," he teased, his voice low and sultry. "We're all alone, in your room just the two of us,"

You nodded and laughed briefly before your expression soured. The way he shamelessly checked you out annoyed you like nothing else.

“Steve, I’m not sleeping with you. I literally just got out of a relationship,”

Steve rolled his eyes, a mocking pout appearing on his face as he let out a low huff.

"Well, a guy can dream, can't he?" he retorted, his tone playful. “You know it might do you some good to get over that loser. I can guarantee you'd have a better time with me."

You sharply exhaled through your nostrils as you let the idea dance in your head for a minute. You hadn’t cried since Steve showed up this morning. You hadn’t even thought of your ex really since Steve showed up. You knew you were going to have to get a rebound sometime and he was already here in your dorm room, practically begging to fuck you.

“Alright, fuck it. I’m game, Harrington,” You said bluntly, almost harshly.

In two fluid motions, you tossed your top off and unzipped your skirt that fell to your ankles.

Steve's eyes widened as you started to undress in front of him, his cocky expression replaced with a look of pleasant surprise. He let out a low whistle

"Damn, you don't mess around," he stated, his eyes roaming over the expanse of bare skin. He swallowed, licking his lips before speaking again. "You sure about this, sweetheart? I don't want you to do something you'll regret."

“Oh, now you’re suddenly concerned about how I feel about this situation?” You rolled your eyes and scoffed. You rummaged through your nightstand drawer and tossed a silver sachet at Steve’s chest.

“C’mon Stevie put your money where your mouth is,” You teased, growing excited with the shift in the room.

Steve let out a low scoff as he caught the sachet in one hand, his eyes glancing down at it for a moment before returning to you. His smirk grew as he saw the excitement in your eyes and he sat up on the bed, his gaze trailing down your body once again.

He leaned forward and patted his lap, his usual cocky smirk returning to his face. "Come here then, sweetheart. Let's see if you can handle me." he quipped, a hint of amusement in his voice as he placed the condom onto the bed.

“Oh please, do you think that’s the first time I heard that?” You giggled.

You sauntered over to him with your hands behind your back, then loomed over him for a moment as he sat just a foot in front of you. “Don’t get shy on me now. Whip it out, Steve,”

Steve chuckled at your comment, his eyes flicking down to your hands behind your back. He raised his eyebrows in anticipation, his gaze following you as you approached.

"Not shy, sweetheart. Just making sure you know what you're getting into," he teased, his voice low and seductive.

He reached down and began to unbutton his jeans, his eyes never leaving yours. You broke eye contact first as he drew his pants and boxers down with an uncoordinated tug. As his length unfurled in front of you, you swore you heard it thump on his muscular thigh. Your mouth hung open involuntarily. You picked it up as you covered your mouth, preventing your giggles of pleasant surprise from leaking out.

“Woah… good for you,” was all you managed to get out.

Steve chuckled at your reaction, letting out a low laugh as he leaned back on one hand, his confidence fully returning as he watched you stare at him.

"Like what you see?" He was clearly enjoying the fact that he had managed to catch you off guard, his smirk widening as he saw your eyes widen slightly.

"Don't just stare, babe. You're more than welcome to touch too," he added, gesturing towards himself with a tilt of his head.

You scoffed humorously, re-tying your ponytail before crouching down on the floor before him. You fit yourself in the space between his legs, still admiring him in his bare glory.

“You know you don’t have to talk like we’re in some bad porno. I already agreed to this,” You muttered.

You bit your lip, concentrating on his form. His cock bobbed with excitement as you softly dragged your fingertips down its length. A moan rumbled out of Steve, bringing a wide grin to his face. Steve chuckled, his smile widening as he watched you approach him, his eyes following you as you shifted into a comfortable position between his legs. He tilted his head back for a moment, his eyes fluttering closed before opening back up to watch you.

"Sorry. Just trying to set the mood," he mumbled through a low breath, trying to keep his cool but losing it quickly.

It was another answer you would easily roll your eyes at, but you couldn’t even think about right now. You could only think about touching him. Your fingers slowly found themselves around his girth, feeling the weight of it as you held his cock steady.

“Is this okay?” You asked in a choked breath. Slowly your fingers rolled against his length, squeezing gently with every stroke.

His size was something you weren’t going to forget anytime soon. You studied it, wide-eyed, wondering how you were ever going to fit it inside you. Steve let out a low moan, his head tilting back for a moment as his eyes fluttered closed again.

"God...yeah that-that's fine," he assured you, his voice low and rough as he spoke.

He lifted his head back up to watch you explore him, the look you had, only making his ego grow. He sat back, propped up by his arms. His happy trail of hair led up to his abs, led up to his broad chest, led up to his gorgeous face that was contorted in pleasure.

You leaned forward from your heels and fit as much of him as you could, your drool coating his dick thoroughly. Steve's eyes widened in surprise as he felt your mouth envelop him, his arms almost giving out as he let out a low, guttural moan. He kept his eyes trained on you as you took him deep, his breath hitching in his throat as he felt the warmth of your mouth.

Your hands adventurously found their way to the tops of his thighs, finding another point to steady yourself as you let his length part your lips and slip into your mouth. Wet smacks of spit sang in harmony with Steve’s moans.

“How was that?” You asked breathlessly as you bobbed your head back up to see him.

Steve’s eyes were hazy with lust and his chest heaving as he tried to steady his breathing. He'd never had someone blow him with such eagerness and enthusiasm, and he couldn't help but be in awe of you.

"That was incredible," he mumbled, his voice rough and breathless. "You're a natural."

You tried not to grin so hard from pride, but you could tell he was genuine in his compliment due to the hue of pink on his cheeks.

“Are you sure you’re not just saying that?” You teased, already knowing his answer. “You don’t tell that to every girl you hook up with?”

You pushed up on his thighs, bringing yourself back up to eye level with Steve. Your gaze flicked between his eyes and lips with an intense hunger.

"Oh sweetheart, I don't have to lie. I’ve got no reason to," he replied with a cocky smirk, his eyes roaming over your chest before meeting yours.

"You’re not like any girl I’ve been with." He leaned forward slightly, his hands reaching out to grab your hips, pulling you closer to him, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “And I’m definitely not like anything like your dog shit ex-boyfriend of yours. Want me to show you?”

What you would’ve done to get even an ounce of the attention Steve was giving you without a second thought. At a dizzying speed, he encircled your waist with his arm and spun you around, causing you to fall back on your bed.

Giggles caused your body to bounce against your mattress. Those laughs combined with soft whimpers filled the air as he lifted your legs a bit, planting your feet flat on the bed. He then took your previous spot on the floor, down on his knees, and draped over the bed with his body nestled between your legs.

“What are you doing, crazy?” You asked with a breathy tone.

Steve’s hands were firm but gentle as he maneuvered your legs.

"I'm gonna show you just how much better I am than that loser ex of yours," he stated matter-of-factly, a cocky smirk on his face as he knelt in front of you.

He ran his hands up your inner thighs, pressing soft kisses along the sensitive flesh as he moved closer to your center.

Curiosity caused you to tilt your head down to see him and you were instantly met with those giant brown eyes of his. You felt a puff of air fan your entrance as he chuckled against you. You were just getting used to the sensation before he replaced a slow, prolonged lick against your folds. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and your head followed down to the bed.

His mouth worked away at you, making obscene and messy noises as he lapped and nipped at your throbbing clit. The overwhelming rush of pleasure was causing your legs to close in on him and your hand to grab a fistful of his shaggy chestnut hair. You rolled your hips into him, which he only encouraged with the way he was devouring you. Two fingers swiped back and forth over your eager hole, each motion applying more pressure than the last until they slipped right in.

“Shit… Steve,” You could only manage to whisper his name as you squirmed underneath him.

With every sound that managed to escape your lips, Steve only worked with more enthusiasm. He was fully enjoying this, feeling proud of himself for the reactions he was getting out of you. He expertly kept a steady rhythm with his digits, pumping in and out of you.

“I think… I think I’m going to-”

Your peak was just seconds away from being yours but was suddenly ripped away from you as he reluctantly pulled away. You were about to let him hear it. A letdown like that has never happened to you. With your body propped up by your elbows, you investigated what was the reason for your nearly-ruined orgasm.

“Something wrong, baby?” Steve’s smirk distracted you. Before you could let your anger make a mess of things, you looked down to see that he had rolled the condom over his achingly hard cock.

“Oh you impatient little thing,” he hummed as he pressed a hand down on your lower stomach.

A languid thrust brought the entirety of his length to slide inside of you. You could see stars in your vision as you felt him fill you. His body molded to yours as he was grinding down into you. He could barely stay coherent himself, but he managed to tell you “Shit, I don’t think I can go slow anymore, babe. Will you let me take you?” he asked in a gruff voice.

“No, please. I want it,” your voice had a similar hoarse quality to it.

“Let me just-” Steve muttered as he slipped his arms underneath you, hooking over your shoulders as he pressed his body into yours.

It was almost too easy with his feet still firmly on the floor. He lifted his heels to push himself repeatedly and at the same time, his muscular arms pulled you onto him. His forehead was on the mattress as he rutted against you repeatedly. With his ear right beside your head, it gave him the perfect spot to hear every filthy moan that slipped out of your mouth. His thrusts felt endless as if you would be stuck pulsing over his dick for the rest of your life, each one building that familiar feeling you were previously chasing.

“You’re getting tighter. Are you close?” He struggled to get out.

“Yeah, almost there,”

“Oh fuck,” Steve whimpered, the sounds getting higher in pitch as he climaxed.

The desperate pumps had you following right after him. The animalistic growls that escaped him completely overpowered your whines. He then collapsed onto you, his hot breaths covering your neck. Both of your delirious giggles filled the room as you combed through his sweaty hair. He lazily lifted his head, revealing his bright red face.

“Well, that was fun,” You mused as you traced your thumb along his jaw.

“See? And you weren’t going to let me in,” Steve kissed your cheek, making sure the noise from it was obnoxiously loud. “Your ex is a goddamn idiot for letting you slip away,” He mumbled into your collarbone.

[starsinthesky5]

quarterback || joe burrow x reader

description: joe is back to doing what he does best, and you cannot get enough of it ;)

a/n: seeing him back out there is a literal dream!! here’s a little something inspired by all the football content we’ve gotten over the past month 🤍 and good lord he looks FINE as hell.

fair warning, i struggled to write a part of the smut (wink wink) so i really hope it isn’t too cringe because it took me a second to write that

warnings: language, smut

word count: 5.5 k

—————————————————————

The sound of Joe’s alarm blared throughout your bedroom early Monday morning, causing you to turn over and pull your covers over your head. It was currently 6 AM, meaning it was too early for anything. You let out a little whine as you felt Joe’s arms snake around your waist and pull your back into his chest. You lifted the gray comforter off your head and turned your head to face him. You were met with his gentle eyes and messy bedhead, looking absolutely precious this early in the morning.

“Joee, it’s early,” you whined. He moved the covers down a little more so that your shoulder was uncovered, pressing light kisses to the soft skin.

“It’s Monday,” he said in between kisses. You were a little dazed and rubbed your eyes to snap the drowsiness out of you, realizing that it was in fact Monday meaning today was Joe’s long-awaited return to being a quarterback. 

You turned around onto your side to face him and took a long look at him, taking in every little detail. He was now lying on his stomach, his muscular back on display along with his messy hair. “Back to football,” you smile lazily while raking your hand through his hair, which he had been growing out since the start of the year. It was one of the few changes to his appearance, and you were loving it. It was getting longer in the back and the front, almost mullet-like (similar to what he had in college), but you didn’t say that to him because you didn’t want to jinx it. 

You loved Joe’s hair. You loved it at the beginning of the past season even though it ended up looking like a wet mop by the end of the game, and you loved his hair during the end of the season as well, referring to it as ‘prince hair’. This hair might just be your favorite, referring to it as ‘prince hair volume 2’. You loved when he grew his dirty blonde hair out, partly because you loved running your fingers through the strands, but mostly because you loved playing with it during sex. 

“Back to football,” he sighs, the smile on his face fading. 

“Not excited?” You question. 

“Oh, I am, 100%. I miss being out there,” he says as he slides his hand gently across your shoulder. 

“Then why do you not look excited?” You softly ask.

“Nerves,” he responds, turning his face into the pillow to hide his telltale eyes. His eyes could always tell you the emotion he was feeling at the moment, thus the reason why he was trying not to let you see. There was no way you were going to let him get in his head again. He’d already done that enough at the end of the last season into the beginning of the off-season and it did not do anyone any good. 

“Joseph Lee Burrow,” you begin to lecture. 

“Uh oh, full government name never means anything good,” he jokes. 

“You have absolutely no reason to be nervous. You have worked your ass off to get better these past few months. I’ve seen it, the public has seen it, the fucking aliens have seen it,” you lecture as you hear a soft laugh come from his lips. 

“You came back from what could’ve been a career-ending injury and have killed it in rehab and recovery. You were ahead of all their timetables, no surprise there, but you did that all on your own,” you add, moving your hand to his bare back, sliding it down his muscular frame. 

“I’m just nervous about really getting back into it, you know?” He says as he takes his head out of the pillow. “I know I’m better for the most part and I’ve been throwing for a little over a month, but getting back out there with the guys means it’s time to face reality,” he says. 

You stay silent as you let him vent to you, which you had ensured he did while he was injured. “I just don’t want things to go south again, this season means a lot. I know what everyone’s been saying and I’ll be playing with a chip on my shoulder. I just don’t wanna lose it,” he says, referring to his reputation, accomplishments, and goals. 

“You’re not going to lose it, Joe. If anything, the public and the league will lose their minds over how fucking amazing you are after such a devastating setback. You’re going to kill it today, the next day, and every day after that. Now you know that you need to listen to your body more and not push yourself, which will make a huge difference in how you feel,” you smile. 

“I’ve seen you throw and in my unprofessional opinion, it doesn’t look like anything even happened. The team is ready for you, I mean you have 2 giants that are going to be on both sides of you and a whole new class of rookies that I’m sure are ecstatic to be around you,” you giggle. 

“It’s time to be quarterback again. You’re ready, trust me, Remember that you are Joe Fucking Burrow,”. 

Joe smiled at your little speech. You always knew how to get him out of his head and back down to earth and this was just another example of that. “Have I ever told you how much I love you?” He mumbles as he turns onto his back and pulls you on top of him, making you let out a little squeal. 

“Many, Many, Many times,” you say, moving a little so you were straddling his waist. His hands find their way to your waist, pulling you down so that you are just inches from his face. “Well, I love you,” he says again before pulling you closer and seizing your lips in a slow kiss. The grip on your waist tightens as he starts to rock you back and forth. The soft fabric of your shorts was grinding against his black boxers, your core was throbbing with each movement. 

“Joe,” you whimpered into the kiss. He pulls you closer while his right hand slides under the fabric of your tank top, his warm hand sliding up and down your bare back. His perfect lips were devouring yours as if he had been starved for days and had just gotten his first morsel of food. He pulls away from your lips and presses open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, eventually moving down to your neck and sucking on the soft skin. 

“Mmm,” you moan, feeling Joe’s growing erection and slick lips all over you. You knew where this was leading, and if it were any other morning you’d let it happen. But not today. 

You carefully pull away and move off of his hips before it could go any further, he has a look on his face that a child would have if they got candy taken away from them. “Baby, Come back,” he whines.

“Nope. Not right now,” you innocently smile. “You have to get up and get ready and I’m not trying to tire you right before your first day back out there,”.

Joe gets up from the bed and sits upright, “It can be my warmup,” he shrugs, his full bare chest on display sending chills down your spine. Another one of the physical changes Joe had gone through was an increase in weight and muscle, and boy did it pay off. The result was Joe being way bigger than he was before, once again similar to how he looked in college. Not only did it help him with training and recovery, but it also made you even more insatiable around him.  

You stare at him for a few seconds, wanting to jump into bed with him more than anything, but you shake your head and snap out of it. “Maybe after you come home,” you tease. 

“So like a reward?” He asks.

“Precisely,” you say. 

He lets out a dramatic sigh, “I guess I can wait,”. He moves out from the covers and stands up, walking over to you. 

“That’s my man,” you smile, wrapping your arms around his neck and placing a gentle kiss on his lips. 

You quickly freshen up while Joe gets his things ready, and then you let him take a shower while you pack him a few snacks. You pack him his favorite protein bar, an Orange Mango Body Armour, and a Greek yogurt protein powder muffin you made last night. You open the kitchen drawer, searching for a notepad. You find one and grab your pen, etching a note onto the paper.

I’m beyond proud of you, and I mean it. You have been killing it since you started training again and it’s finally time to remind everyone who the hell you are, and this is step 1. You are amazing in every single way possible. Keep your head up, 9. I love you more than life itself <3

You hear his heavy footsteps descend the stairs and quickly put the note and snacks in his bag and back on the couch where he left it. 

You spin around to face him, “You want something to eat? I can make an omelet or something?”. 

“It’s okay, I think I’ll grab something at the Facility,”.

“Missing those nasty green smoothies aren’t you?” you chuckle.

“Yes, and they are not nasty,” he says raising his eyebrow as he grabs his water from the fridge. 

“Thaaat’s debatable,” you drag out as you stumble towards him. It was almost time for him to head out and you deep down didn’t want him to. It was nice to have him around more than usual and now it was time for him to go back to doing what he does best, which you were obviously excited about. But you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to curl up on the couch with him for hours doing absolutely nothing productive.

He looks over at the time and sees that he has to head out soon, a little frown appearing on his face. He places his water on the kitchen island and throws out his arm to pull you in for a tight hug. “Mmmm, I don’t want to leave,” he groans. 

You wrap your hands around his waist and pull yourself closer to him, “I know,” you mumble against his warm chest. “But the day will pass by and before you know it, you’ll be back home,” you say as you lift your head off of his chest and meet his starry eyes. 

“Back home with my mouthwatering girlfriend, hopefully too exhausted to get up from bed because of our extracurricular activities,” he smirks. 

“Are you always horny?” you scoff as you pat his chest.

“You left me hangin’,” he says while tilting his head. 

“Sorrryyy,” you say, feeling bad as you hide your face in his chest again. 

He laughs as his hand moves to the back of your head, softly placing his hand on it. “It’s okay, as long as I get my reward when I get back,”. 

You lift your head again from his chest and meet his eyes which were now dark blue and filled with desire. “You got it,”. 

Hours Later 

You were sitting on the couch reading one of your favorite books before you saw your phone light up. You placed your book down on the couch and grabbed your phone, seeing that it was a text from Joe. A smile creeps up your face as you read his message.

Joe: Thanks for the snacks, I was starvingggg and those muffins are the best things I’ve ever had to date. But most importantly, thank you for that note. Seriously. Your words are so important to me and I don’t know what I would do without your constant encouragement and love. I love you I love you I love youu

You blushed at the repetitive “I love you’s” at the end of the text, and then remembered what you and written on the note to make him act like this

“He must be doing good,” you whisper to yourself as you type up a response, getting a reply from him instantly. 

You: I love you ❤️ How’s practice going by the way? 

Joe: Really good. Been throwing around a lot today with the guys and worked through some other stuff. They took a bunch of videos for media stuff so that’s something to keep an eye on if you want a peek 

You: Is it finally time for more football thirst traps? 

Joe: You’re funny

You: Hey? Can you blame me? The increased muscle and the flow you got going on is about to break the internet for the 2nd year in a row. My boyfriend is the definition of sexiness and when he puts on that jersey… Whew, someone has to restrain me 

Joe: You’re lucky I’m not at home right now 

You: Oh really? 

Joe: Yes really. 

You were about to type up a teasing response but you got a notification from the Bengal’s Instagram and immediately switched over to see what it was. It was a compilation of Joe throwing today at practice. 

You watched as he moved around in slowmo, throwing the ball around to the guys, his luscious hair flopping with every movement. The jersey he was wearing and the compression sleeve showed off his large muscular arms, arms you wish were wrapped around tight you right now. You paid attention to the grip he had on the football, the grip you wished he had on your thighs as right now as he took you to heaven. God, he looked so good right now. 

“Fuckkk,” you whispered to yourself, squirming around in your seat, feeling a little horny at the sight of him all sweaty and footbally. He looked mouthwatering and you were regretting letting him leave without a little quickie this morning to satisfy both your cravings. His throws were absolutely amazing in the video, managing to make each one hit his guys perfectly. He really was doing amazing and you couldn’t be more happier to see him back in his true element. 

“Ooh, that’s new,” you laughed as you watched him do a backhand pass to one of the guys. The smile on his face made you incredibly excited and at peace, he was going to be just fine. 

You switch back over to your texts with Joe, finally typing up a response after taking a few seconds to snap back to your senses.

You: Saw the video and you’re killing it ;) You feel good?

Joe: Oh, I feel greatttt. I’ll feel even better by the time I’m home. Got a lot of energy today 

You let out a shaky breath, feeling the tension through the screen. You needed him badly and this conversation was not helping the situation. 

You: I hope sooo. That video has me feeling some feelings that need to be cared for in more ways than just one. Maybe needing some gentle care, maybe a little rough care? Still trying to figure it out.. I think I need some help figuring out what it is 

Joe: I’ll be home in an hour

You: Drive Safe ;)

You turned your phone off, throwing it to the side as you threw your head back into the couch pillow. “He’s going to be the death of me,” you giggle before covering your face with your hands. 

An Hour Later 

You’re sitting at the kitchen island after taking a shower, making sure to scrub everywhere and anywhere with your new Rose Body Scrub, and scrolling through your Instagram feed until you hear the sound of the garage open. 

You felt heat rise up your body as you realized he was finally home. You turn off your phone and stand up as you hear the door open and close. Joe walks in, bag in hand, wearing his black sweat shorts and a loose sleeveless white workout shirt. You watch as he places his bag on the floor, takes his shoes off, and walks over to you without saying anything. 

He pulls you into him, hands wrapping around your lower back, and lips crashing down onto yours. His lips move against yours at a slow and needy pace, telling you everything you need to know without actually saying anything. His tongue slides into your mouth as his hand moves down to your butt. Your hands slide down his back and under his shirt, running your manicured hands across his soft back. Suddenly, he pulls away and meets your eyes. His eyes are dark and intense, filled with lust and desire once again. 

“Do I get my reward now?” He whispers as his hands slowly cup the flesh of your ass. 

“Mmm, I don’t know,” you tease as you break away from his grip. “I don’t know if you were quarterback enough today,” you lie, earning a scoff from him, knowing he absolutely was in every single way possible. You slowly walk over to where he dropped his bag on the floor, bending over slowly to grab it and making sure he was watching, and oh he was. 

“You and I both know you’re lying through your teeth,” he says as he walks over to you. He picks you up, causing you to let out a squeal, and throws you over his shoulder.

“Put me downn,” you laugh, patting his back. 

“Nope. If I remember correctly, it’s time for my promised reward and you apparently are feeling something that needs gentle and rough care. Time to kill two birds with one stone,”  he smirks as he walks over to the stairs, still holding onto you over his shoulder, and carrying you up to the bedroom. 

He enters the room and gently throws you down onto the silk sheets before ripping his shirt off so that his bare chest is on display. Your eyes move down to his chest, taking in every little detail of his upper body. His big muscular chest was tan from all the sun he’d been getting, his strong veiny arms on display, and that little blonde treasure trail that led down to one of your favorite features of his. 

“Like what you see?” He teases as he leans down to hover over you. 

“More than you’ll ever know,” you smile as you reach up and pull him down for a kiss. You kiss him hungrily as he starts to fiddle with the strings of your shorts. He unties the knot and slips his fingers into your panties, immediately going down to your wet heat.

“Mm, Joe,” you moan into the kiss as you feel his fingers tease your folds. He continues to kiss you as his fingers enter your core, slowly pumping in and out while his thumb toys with your clit.

You break away from the kiss and throw your head back into the pillow as his fingers pick up the pace, moans, and whimpers leaving your lips as he pushes you towards your pleasure. “Right there,” you moan as he hits your sweet spot. Just as you’re about to reach your high, he pulls his fingers out of your shorts.

“Why’d you stop,” you pant as you lift your head up.

“Because I don’t want you to cum yet,” he nods as he licks his fingers clean of your essence. He pulls down your shorts and panties all in one go and then starts to pull your tank top off, you lift your arms to make it easier for him. 

“I wanna take my time,” he says. 

“Shouldn’t I be the one making you feel good since this is your reward?” You ask as you unclamp your bra, freeing your breasts as Joe’s eyes travel down to them. 

“You are my reward,” he growls, pushing you back down. His lips wrap around your breast, sucking on your nipple. You move your hand into his long hair, pulling at the strands as he continues to suck on your breast. A few sighs leave your lips as he swirls his tongue around the bud. He pressed a few kisses in between them as he moved over to your other breast. His tongue swirled around your bud and the wet kisses sent shivers down your spine. 

“You smell so good,” he says in between kisses. 

“Joe,” you whimpered as you pulled his head back up to your face. You crashed your lips onto him as you hooked your leg around his body, pulling him closer to you. You could feel his boner through his shorts, only getting bigger by the second. 

“Let me take care of that,” you say as you pull away from the kiss, slowly moving you both up. 

“But I wanna taste you,” he mumbles as he presses kisses around your collarbone. 

An idea suddenly pops into your head. You hadn’t done it in a while, and when you did do it, you both absolutely enjoyed it. 

“Wanna kill two birds with one stone?” you echo his words from earlier as you run your fingers across his thigh. He pulls his head out from your neck and looks like he’s seen a ghost. 

“Are you sure?” he asks, searching your eyes. 

“Hell yes,” you giggle as you move out from under him, your body sizzling with desire and anticipation. 

A few minutes later, both of you are laying bare against each other. You move yourself further back and he grabs your hips, pulling you right to his face. 

“Ohh,” you whimper as you feel his warm tongue lick a stripe across your folds. 

You lean down and run your tongue across the tip of his cock, lapping up the pre-cum that was pooling at the tip. You feel Joe groan into your core, sending vibrations all throughout your body. Wet slurping sounds were coming from behind you as breathy moans escaped your lips. 

You wrap your soft lips around the tip of his cock, slowly sliding your mouth down, taking him inch by inch. You begin to bob your head up and down as Joe moves to suck on your sensitive clit.

“Joe,” you moan as you pull away, sliding your tongue along the prominent veins. You felt his warm mouth lap at your folds as he rhythmically sucked on your clit, sending you straight to heaven. You took him in your mouth again, this time sucking harder and setting a quick pace. 

“Y/N,” he moans against your core. You both are caught up in the heated moment for what feels like hours. He continues to eat you out like a starved man, and you continue to suck him into oblivion. His grip on your hips tightens and you feel him start to buck his hips, a sure sign he was close. You felt tension building in your belly as you felt his tongue slide into your core and his thumb rubbing circles around your clit. 

A few seconds later, the tension in your belly snaps as you feel a gush of wetness release from your core prompting you to moan around his slick cock. You hear Joe whimper as he laps up your juices, inching closer and closer to his release. You wrap your hand around his cock, sliding it up and down along with your mouth. A few more sucks later, hot spurts of his cum fill your mouth. 

“Fuckkk,” he moans behind you. You slide your lips around the tip of his cock, and then licking the sides, lapping up his release before turning around and sitting up so you were straddling him.

“That was so hot,” he smiles as he takes in your disheveled appearance. He runs his big hands along your sides, sliding down to your thighs. 

“So hot,” you echo as you move some of his hair out from his eyes. 

“Sooo, now that I got the gentle care out of the way, I think it’s time for the rough care,” he says as he flips you over, a squeal leaving your lips. 

“Was that not enough,” you giggle as he kisses down your body. 

“I think I quarterbacked pretty hard today and deserve a little more than that,” he says moving back up to your face.

“I guess you’re right,” you playfully tease. He presses a kiss to your nose and then to your lips, slowly sucking on your bottom lip as he teased your slick core with his cock. He slowly pushes the tip in, still attacking your mouth with his lips. 

“Shit,” you moan into this kiss at the increased pressure down below. 

“F- Fuck,” you whimpered as he slid all the way into your core, completely stretching you out with his big cock. He started thrusting into you hard, not giving you a second to collect your thoughts. Your cushiony walls felt like home to him and he couldn’t get enough of it, he needed you. 

“You feel so good,” He groaned as he pounded into your heat. He moved his head to the crook of your neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses along the side and softly sucking on the skin. He moved deeper and deeper into your core with each thrust, sending your hips further into the bed. 

“Joe, I-” you begin to say but are interrupted by a moan as Joe’s cock grazes your G-spot. “Ohhh,”. 

He uses his hand and lifts one of your legs, causing your knee to bend, and allowing him to thrust deeper into you. “Joe!” you screamed as you felt him hit your G-spot.

“Right there?” he smirked.

“Yeah,” you moaned as you closed your eyes, the pleasure becoming too much for you. “Right there,” you whispered. You felt as if you were floating on a cloud as your boyfriend continued to pleasure you in every single way possible. 

“You’re so wet,” he groans as he continues to thrust into you. Sounds of your skin slapping against his fill the room, a pleasant sound that signifies that whatever was happening inside the room made you both feel good. 

“Joe, Fuck me harder,” you whimpered as you opened your eyes, your arms flying to the side as you were being pushed into the mattress. He was balls deep inside of you right now, and you were loving every second of it. 

He drops your leg and grabs your hand, lacing your fingers together as he thrusts into you faster and harder, causing your breasts to shake with every thrust. Joe leans down and licks a stripe across your nipple, sending chills down your body at the cool air hitting the wet skin. 

“Baby,” you moaned as the pleasure was building in your belly. 

The intense pleasure you were feeling right now was your favorite feeling in the entire world. Joe was so good to you and you were so good to him. The sounds that left your mouth and the feeling of you beneath him would often send him into overdrive. All he wanted to do was make you feel good, and you wanted to do the same for him. He was the only man that would ever see you like this and you were all his. He grinned at the moans and little noises leaving your lips as he sent you to heaven. 

You begin to buck your hips up into his, matching the pace of his quick thrusts. He moves his hand down to your waist, gripping you tightly, a bruise surely to form there later. His thrusts start to become more erratic, a sign that he was close. 

“Y/N..” he moaned. 

You moved your hands to cup his back, helping him move against you and guiding his thrusts. Each stroke hits every pleasure point, causing ecstasy to course through your veins. “Baby, I’m close,” he groans. 

“Fuck, me too,” you whisper. Your legs were starting to shake from his thrusts and your body started to become sore, but the pleasure in your belly only getting stronger by the second. A few well-placed and rough thrusts later, you felt the warmth of his release fill you, his head dropping down to your neck as he panted sweet nothings into your ear.

"You're so good. Fuck, I love you," he panted.

“Mpmh,” you whined as you were so close to letting go, your hands scratching the soft skin of his muscular back. Joe lifted his head from your neck, realizing you hadn’t come yet, and went back to snapping his hips against yours. How was he not tired yet? I mean, it really shouldn't be surprising considering his stamina. He can go for hours and hours if he feels like it.

He moved one hand down to your incredibly wet lower half and played with your clit. “Cum for me baby, you can do it,” he said as he pounded into you. The pressure in your belly was building up, but it was a feeling different than any other orgasm. This one felt strong, and a little painful, but also caused your stomach to flutter. “J- Joe, I-” you moan as you start to arch your back. “I- I can’t,” you whimpered. 

“Yes, you can. I’ve got you,” he soothes, moving down to press a soft kiss to your lips. 

A few seconds later, you felt the band in your belly snap hard. The result was you releasing all over the lower half of both your bodies and onto the bed. 

“Oh my god, Joe,” you moaned as you fell back against the sheets, throwing your head to the side, a smile creeping up on your face as you felt your extreme high. Now you really felt like you were on a cloud and the room was spinning. He uses his hand to turn your face to meet his, and his lips crash down onto yours in a delicate yet passionate kiss. He pulls away, a huge smirk on his face as he was taking in your fucked out expression, feeling satisfied that he could make you feel like this. 

“Now that was hot,” he laughed.

“It’s been a minute since that happened,” you pant, your eyes fluttering as you were trying to regain your senses. 

“I’m so glad it did,” he chuckles as he slowly pulls out of you, both of your releases dripping down your inner thigh. You hiss at the loss of contact but Joe presses a kiss to your cheek to ease any discomfort. He walks over to the bathroom to grab a towel and makes his way back to you. He cleans you up before picking you up and placing you on the comfy chair next to the windows so he can change the sheets. Then he walks into the closet and hands you one of his big t-shirts to slip on while he slips on a pair of shorts. He then digs through the drawer and pulls out 2 Tylenol tablets and a bottle of water from the mini-fridge for you.

You smile at his sweet gestures as you slip on the comfy shirt. Only he could be so soft and affectionate after completely re-arranging your guts.

A couple of minutes later, you both are back in bed, lying against the fresh sheets and wrapped up in each other’s arms. 

“Was that gentle & rough enough for you,” Joe teases.

“Oh, 100%. I don’t think I can move, you beat it up gooood this time,” you lazily giggle. “I’m surprised you’re so awake right now. You weren’t kidding about having a lot of energy today,”.

“I feel good. Hell, I feel fucking amazing,” he says, squeezing your shoulder. “Today was really good and being back out there feels incredible,”.

You look up at him and see his hopeful and excited facial expression. You felt so proud of him and so happy that things were going back to normal. The past few months were tough, but today, by the sounds of it, felt like a fresh start for him. 

“That’s really great Joe. I’m so proud of you,” you say as you press a kiss to his bare chest.

“Thanks for the reward by the way,” he says.

“Please, even if you sat out today or missed all of your throws, I still would’ve pounced on you. Nothing can keep me away from my own personal 6’4 bundle of sexiness,” you teased. 

“Good to know in case things go south again. At least you'll still want me if I fail,” he jokes.

“Hey, that is not funny,” you say, looking back up at him with a solemn face.

“I’m just playin’. I think we can save the repeat of your speech from this morning for another day,” he laughs. 

“Good. I’m too tired to lecture your ass,” you sigh. 

“I’m feeling it now too,” he yawns.

“You should be. You did most of the work tonight,” you say as you hook your leg over his hips so that you are straddling him again. His arms wrapped around your lower back, holding you close against him. You tuck your head under his chin and let out a content sigh.

“And that’s perfectly fine. I owe you for all those times when I couldn’t move my wrist because of that big ass cast,”. 

“Well, I’m just glad that we don’t have to ever deal with that again,” you say.

“Tell me about it,” he mumbles as he presses a kiss to your head. “Wait, you still didn’t answer my question from earlier,”. 

“Hm?” you question. 

“Was I quarterback enough today?” he asks.

You turn your face to look up at him. “Absolutely. In every single way possible. From the jersey to the thirst trap pics, the throws, the smile on your face, not to mention that stamina in bed. Yeah, you were quarterback enough today,” you smile.

His deep blue eyes were filled with love as he listened to you talk. Everything was going as planned now that he was back on the field, and he could see how relaxed and happy that made you. 

“I love you,” he says, hugging you tighter. "So, So, So, Much," he says, pressing a kiss to your head each time he says 'so'.

“I love you, quarterback,”.

–The End–

[themeraldee]

The Lucky Winner

[Masterlist]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“O-oh,that isn’t—You don’t have to—” 

He continues nonetheless. 

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

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

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

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

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

“It is?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y-yes.”

“Perfect.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So with a quick drop he descends.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I-I’m sorry.” 

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

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

“You do?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is there anything you don't have?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can't do I'm afraid, duty calls.” 

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

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

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

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

You sure hope there will be a next time.

[Part 2]

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

[oceantornadoo]

ex husband price x f!reader

some drunkenness, heavy jealousy, this is a bit long

—

“another round!” you shouted to your new friends, smiling at the sounds of everyone cheering. you turned away and drunkenly maneuvered yourself to the crowded bartop, grin plastered on your face. you were so excited to go out with your new coworkers, people who didn’t know you were one year into your divorce and absolutely miserable. people who wouldn’t spew bullshit about moving on and exciting new chapter! or why did you guys break up in the first place? people who’d just let you be.

you pushed through to the front, raising your hand to signal the bartender. she looked poised to take your order, but the light in her eyes changed, a small smirk emerging as she tracked a figure who’d appeared next to you. “what can i get you, handsome?” you rolled your eyes, the alcohol bringing out emotions you normally hid in public. obviously, go her, but you really wanted to do these shots before going to the bathroom. “whiskey, neat.” you froze, shoulders bunching, heart beating, palms sweaty. you eagerly brushed your hands against your jeans, praying you had heard wrong. you turned away to sneak to the bathroom, but a hand shot out and grabbed your waist, pulling you into his side. “an’ a water for my wife.”

instinctively, you rolled your eyes at how the brows of the bartender shot up. it was always like this with him, people surprised he could be with you. one of the worst feelings in the world. “i’m fine, john.” you pushed at his hand, his viselike grip not budging from your waist. “you’re drunk.” you scoffed as he handed you your water. “that’s the point, john. to be drunk and have fun.” you’d said the last part a bit too harshly, covering your embarrassment by chugging your water. you still hadn’t dared to look at his face, too afraid of what you might see. you left the cup at the bar and turned away, determined to go back to your friends. he let you but kept his hand on your back, powerful strides mocking your slightly-more-sober ones. his presence always sobered you up, but you were determined not to let john stop your fun.

“hey guys! sorry, tender wouldn’t serve me, said i was too drunk.” you ended your quip with a grin, earning a similar one from your coworkers. “it’s fine! think i’m gonna head out soon, anyways.” said your favorite coworker, turning to you with a smirk. “looks like you caught yourself something interesting.” her eyes flicked up to john, his hand now settled on your hip, and then back to you. “he’s just my fuck buddy.” you stage whispered, loud enough so he could hear it. his hand tightened on your waist, the intended insult hitting its target. “love that for you, babe. be careful, he has a ring.” you looked down at the hand on your waist, at his ring he’d never taken enough, even when you left yours on that kitchen table. “it’s fake.” john was tugging you into his torso, the welcoming scent of cinnamon and whiskey settling you. “time t’ go, sweetheart.” you said your goodbyes to everyone, choosing to pick your battles and not fight with your ex-husband in front of a new group of friends. thankfully, most were too drunk to notice the menacing captain behind you. wordlessly, you made your way to the exit, eyes locked on the ground as john led you to his apartment, walking distance from the bar.

“always havin’ to take you home.” you could hear the grin in his voice since you were still too scared to look into his eyes. the walk was sobering you up, your steps becoming sure again. “well excuse me, price, but no one asked you to come out. don’t be a fucking gaslighter.” he sighed, hand rubbing up and down your spine as if to calm you. “don’t call me that.” he wasn’t about to tell you that he still tracked your location, still watched it for his nightly entertainment. how he had notifications for when you went to bars, just in case. “can call you whatever i want. we’re not legally bound anymore.” that one hurt, more than the fake ring comment. you could sense it in the air, how his hand had paused on your upper back, your delicate truce broken.

john was berating himself, unsure about you for the first time in his life. did you not feel the same connection he did, the same ache in your bones when he was away? he knew you were meant for each other, obviously, but this…he didn’t know what to do if he wasn’t bound to you anymore. “i’m sorry, john. i didn’t mean it.” your apology was quiet, words sacred in the dark of the night. you had moved a bit closer so his hand slid to your shoulder, moving up and down, cupping the back of your neck. “‘s ok, sweetheart. you’re still drunk.” you both didn’t acknowledge how even when you were drunk, your tongue and mind were always sharp and truthful. how he knew that because that’s how you met, drunk insults flying in the back of some pub five years ago.

you blinked and you were at his door, watching his back muscles move as he unlocked it. you took in the jeans, the untucked shirt, realizing he wasn’t as put together as you thought. like he had run out the moment he’d sense you become drunk, like some angelic protector. he guided you in as you both took off your shoes, eyes squinting at the sudden light of the lamp he’d turned on. finally, in the safety of his home, you had enough strength to make eye contact.

“john!” your eyes were suddenly filling with tears, voice breaking on the last syllable. fuck, he’d wanted to wait until at least the morning for this conversation, dread piling up like stones in his stomach. “‘s nothin’, baby. go have a shower.” you shook your head vehemently, dragging him to the sofa near the lamp, settling yourself in a straddle on his lap. “you’re hurt.” a tear was threatening to fall and he couldn’t bear it, one hand pushing you down on his lap while the other wiped it away. “just a bruise now. i’ll be ok.” you shook your head at the sight of the absolute shiner on his face, the print of a fist on his jaw. your hands were shaking as you lifted them closer, careful not to hurt him. “you didn’t tell me.” practically pouting, you couldn’t control where the sudden burst of emotion came from. your man was hurt and he still came for you, even if you hadn’t wanted him there. “didn’t want you to worry.” his other hand dropped down to your waist, pulling you closer, the seam of your jeans touching the seam of his own. “i always worry about you, even when i don’t want to.”

he was too old for this, the emotional push and pull draining him more and more every week. the way you still clearly cared for him but refused to get back together, to live under one roof. he didn’t need to remarry you anymore, just wanted you like this, his pliant sweetheart and her sharp tongue all to himself. "what if i want you to? want you to worry about me." you gave him a watery smile, tilting your head to look at him better. your eyes, wet and wide. your skin, sticky from the bar but smelling like his favorite perfume all the same. your chest, heaving with the effort of holding back your emotions, breasts threatening to spill out. and finally your legs, jeans stretched over thick thighs as they accommodated his own. fitting together like long lost puzzle pieces, always meant to find each other again. "what if we got it wrong, john? what if, what if it's all been for nothing?"

that had been your mantra for the past year. what if, what if. what if you had been able to weather his long absences better? what if he had said no to a mission every once in a while? what if he hadn't missed christmas and new years and valentine's day? what if you hadn't had to take that pregnancy test alone, hands trembling at the negative sign, emotions swirling like a tornado inside you? he was nuzzling you now, that favorite facial hair of yours scratching the side of your neck as he inhaled your scent. "go'on an' shower, baby. meet you in bed." your hand curled from his neck to his head, scratching his scalp. the low moan he gave you reverberated in your bones, settling some unknown question deep in your heart. "shower with me. i don't want to be away from you anymore." he kissed your collarbone once, twice, then pulled his head back to meet your eyes. "we're not doin' anythin'. you're drunk." you were already scrambling out of his lap once he didn't say no, tugging him into his much-too-small bathroom. "help me shower since im so incapacitated." you and that tongue were back. "alright cheeky."

you pulled the bathroom door closed, then turned to face him with a twinkle in your eyes. your shirt had a zip in the front, something that had been taunting him all night. slow like molasses, you dragged your hand from collarbone to chest to the top of the zipper, unzipping the shirt with a grin on your face. john was zeroed in on your chest as you took the shirt off, having been deprived of your naked body for months. "don't get shy on me, love. keep goin'" you turned backwards, shimmying out of your jeans, giving him a show of the lace underneath as you tugged it down after. "did you miss me?" your mask was slipping, a struggle to keep it up as john started undressing as well, showing off all the muscle he'd maintained, even more after the divorce. he might have been preparing for this moment, who's to say. "more than words can say, love. c'mere."

he tugged you into the shower, turning on the shower. it sprayed out cold water and you slapped his chest with a yelp. "give me a warning, john!" he chuckling, kissing the back of your neck as he turned you to face the spray head on. "tha's for all the trouble you caused tonight, duckie. gave me a right headache." he hadn't called you duckie in years, some half-baked inside joke you'd both made one late night. "you're insane. only one who caused trouble was you." he hummed a non-reply, too busy reaching over your shoulder to grab the makeup remover in your favorite brand. his hands ghosted over your waist, turning you around so he could clean off the mess on your face. you closed your eyes on instinct, john's hands unbelievably soft on your face, treating you like some precious thing. he switched to body wash, taking his time with your shoulders, breasts, stomach, cunt, thighs. never doing anything suggestive, only acting with absolute reverence.

john had almost forgotten how magnetic your body could be, how pliant you were when he touched you. the sight of healed scars, stretch marks, moles, birthmarks - all made a constellation of perfections on your skin. he nosed at your cunt on instinct, inhaling his favorite scent in the world before tugging himself back. still drunk, old man. don't fuck this up. he turned you back around to wash everything off, making sure all suds were gone before turning off. your eyes were still closed, your silent compliance palpable. he finally gave you the kiss he'd been yearning for, hands coming to cup your face as his naked body enveloped your own in the steam filled room. you moaned at the feeling of him, wrapping your arms around his thick neck. you bit his bottom lip just to make sure it was real, it was him, that he still liked how you kissed. he answered you with a moan. john's strong hands lifted you up around him, opening his eyes only to maneuver you both out of the bathroom and into his bedroom, laying you on top of the sheets, wet and wonderous.

“john, i need you.” you practically whined, hungry at the sight of him laying you down on his bed. “not fuckin’, love.” you pouted, reaching for his shoulders. he came down easy, tucking you into him. “i’ve been miserable without you. and i hate you for it. but i want you so badly.” the truths were bitter on your tongue, coaxed out by the safety of being in john’s arms. “never lettin’ you leave again, sweetheart. with or without my ring, you’re mine.” he punctuated his words with kisses to your shoulder, your neck, your collarbone. without my ring might have been a lie, but what you didn’t know wouldn’t hurt you. “will you sleep with me?” he nodded against you, possessiveness placated by the need in your voice. john pulled out of your arms, ignoring your whines, and messed around in his dresser, pulling out boxers for himself and a shirt for you. he pulled you up gently, pushing the shirt over your head with practiced ease. “c’mon.”

when you opened your eyes again, you were on top of john under the mostly-dry covers. one leg draped across his lower half with an arm on his chest, your head on his heartbeat. “this doesn’t mean all is forgiven.” he hummed something unintelligible. “and i’m not running to the courthouse with you tomorrow.” he chuckled at that. “sure, lovie. whatever you want.” you sniffed. “one more thing. i know you track my location. you can’t come bursting out of the woodwork whenever im having fun.” well that wasn’t happening, but he let you believe it. “time t’ sleep, duck.” he turned off the light, drowning you in peaceful dark. “‘m glad you’re back here.” here, in his arms. here, in his space. here, in his heart where you constantly lived. “me too, john.”

and when you woke up the next morning with your wedding ring slid back on your finger, well, you pretended to throw a bit of a fit, biting back a smile the whole time.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Jamil Viper: A Web, Tangled

Aaand here we go with the Relaxing in Room line of birthday cards :v d ehebkwjw It’s so funny that they chuck pillows to attack??? (By the way, congrats to this Jamil card overloading and crashing the JP server 😂)

For this series of birthday ficlets, I’ll focus on writing each birthday boy preparing to walk to school with the reader (since the duo partner barely appears in the vignettes). Can be read platonically or romantically, whatever you prefer~

Rise and Shine!

You lingered by the doorway, your eyes glued on Jamil.

He was preoccupied with glimpsing himself in a mirror set on a table. Before him were various accessories from a jeweled box. (Judging from the gaudiness of the massive rubies on it, it must have been a gift from Kalim.)

Loose tresses the color of dark chocolate tumbled down his back. When Jamil ran a brush through them, the sun caught and his hair tempered, turning lustrous.

You’d seen him massage his scalp with oil-slicked hands before—and again, he diid it, followed by some sort of a cream. The routine left his head moisturized smelling faintly of jasmine. Jamil never compromised when it came to hair care.

You often had to remind yourself that he was not a princess, entrancing as he was. The sway of his hair, the snap of his steps. Each movement, close to a part in a mysterious dance.

Jamil produced his magical pen. The magestone laid in it was as clear as a cloudless day, and the color of blood that had been left out for a little too long.

Now came the spectacle, the very highlight of your entire morning.

Jamil raised the pen as if he was a conductor waving his baton. A hush fell over an imaginary audience, a collective of breaths held in anticipation. This is it, this is it.

He flicked his wrist, and the magic flowed.

A trail of scarlet light emanated whenever Jamil drew his wand. The accessories laid out on his desk floated up, compelled, in a neat line. A band with a feather dangling from it, narrow golden bangles, flat beads that clinked like coins.

His dark locks lifted, dividing themselves into even sections, then into even smaller ones. They carefully twisted over and under each other, weaving into tight braids. Accessories slid on, effortlessly fitting themselves at his direction.

His intricate hairstyle assembled quickly, as if arranging the pieces of a familiar puzzle.

The red sparkles faded into a fine shimmer and then into nothing at all. As the last traces of magic settled, you bursted into applause.

“Bravo, bravo! Great show as always,” you said appreciatively.

“… That wasn’t a performance,” Jamil corrected as he set his magical pen down.

“It might as well be! It takes some serious skill to pull that off every morning.” You gestured to him. “And so fast!“

“Anyone could accomplish it with enough time and practice.” His words choice was humble, but there was a hint of a smirk in his tone.

A rare moment of triumph for him.

“Not just anyone. I think you’ve got a natural talent for this kind of thing,” you grinned broadly, “like a spider!”

Jamil’s neutral expression splintered, leaving jagged edges exposed. His left eyes twitched, pupils pinpricks.

“Excuse me? In what way do I remind you of a vile bug?”

“Hey, don’t knock spiders! You guys have similar skills. The braids, the webs. You make’m well, all nice and strong. No strands out of place.”

“That doesn’t reassure me,” he groused, a hand on his hip. “I’d prefer if you didn’t compare me to them. It feels wrong.”

Jamil shivered. Not from the cold, but with repulsion.

You gave a laugh—soft against the rising morning sun. “Really? But you’re so alike in other ways too.”

His eyes narrowed into suspicious slivers. Mildly offended, perhaps.

“Elaborate,” he commanded.

“They’re hard working and important but under-appreciated,” you pointed out. “Without spiders, there would actually be a lot more bugs around. We should be more grateful to have spiders’ webs.”

There was a pause, deliberate. Then a gentle prompt.

“… Remind you of anyone?”

Jamil scoffed. It was as loud as a thunderclap in his suddenly cavernous bedroom.

“Maybe.”

Two syllables, clipped. An acknowledgment.

“Jamil-senpai…?”

He hurriedly looked away, staring at the wall for likely longer than what was deemed appropriate. Any more, whether in length or in intensity, and he might have burned a hole in it. His face, hotter than the Scalding Sands.

Your brows shot up. “… Ah. Could it be that you’re feeling embarrassed?”

“What? No, don’t be ridiculous. Something like this couldn’t possibly ruffle me.”

You craned your body, attempting to meet his gaze. But he wrenched away, denying that to you. “Then why aren’t you looking at me when you say that?”

“I need to get ready for class,” he replied dismissively. “So close the door and wait outside while I change out of my pajamas.”

“Now you’re just changing the subject!”

“Well, we’ll both be running late if we continue to dawdle,” Jamil warned—a tactful evasive maneuver.

His hands found their way onto your arms, steering you into the hallway. You turned back, mouth opening to protest, but Jamil had already sealed himself off.

Banging and calling out to him was no good. Kicking resulted in you gripping onto your poor foot and whimpering. You were left in a sorry state, back to the door as you rested on the floor.

On the other side, Jamil was surely having a little laugh. Cheeks still burning from the praise showered upon him, basking in the afterglow of it.

You sighed.

A spider makes its web to deceive flies into getting stuck in it. Jamil-senpai can be just as tricky.

[bug-slappy]

sharing my opinion here about serizawas design inconsistencies over time (spoilers for mp100 ending) i feel like in each new rendition of serizawa weve seen in official art ever since the start of S3 something feels off in a different way with every new merch release

lets start here ⬇ serizawa looks like,, himself. accurate to how hes drawn since his first anime appearance

⬇⬇⬇ and then slowly,,, things start to look off. his jawline is slowly getting slimmer, his eyes look wider (same with mobs too)

AND DONT EVEN GET ME STARTED ON THESE. especially the one on the right my god. who is that

every new promo art that comes out just feels very careless. I think you could say so for all the characters (mobs giant eyes, reigens waist getting skinnier/pointier features. the PROMO art of dimple that was literally FULLY TRACED OFF OF A TEMU PIRATE HALLOWEEN COSTUME. they all look bad here)

it just feels a little depressing how little they seem to care anymore, like theyre just trying to pump out merch without bothering to use a character reference.

i notice the changes the most with serizawa. every promo art looks like theyre playing a game of telephone. each version of him is based on the last, instead of his initial design (shown below)

at the end of S2, when reigen cuts serizawas hair, he still looks like himself. they did a great job of showing "how serizawa would look underneath his moustache and big hair". In S3 it feels like they've lost that mentality completely. like he's no longer based off of his original design, but an entirely new reference of his salary man look. some comparisons between S3 vs S2 and OVA down below

I find that the line weight in S3 is much heavier and unfocused. but what bothers me most of all is that... Serizawa looks different in nearly every scene... as if they're undecided on what he should look like. the shape of his nose and jaw, his hair all change depending on the episode entirely.

The art style change for S3 was meant to be "more accurate to the manga", but I find that it had the opposite effect. especially how serizawas and ritsus eye shapes changed. ritsus large pupils and serizawas more almond shaped eyes were more reflective of their manga designs there are plenty of inconsistences in S1 and 2, but they're clearly done with purpose to reflect on ONEs art style (my beloved). I feel like the thinner lines allow more room for detail and extreme facial expressions that truly hold a candle to ONEs insane talent for capturing emotions.

these ^^^ compared to..

erm.. this.. ⬇

just felt very underwhelming... and serizawa certainly does mellow out once he starts working at S&S, but that doesn't mean that there's less opportunity for detailed expressions !!

the yokai fight scene was beautifully made i have no qualms.. but the amount of serizawa lore and dialogue in the manga that got cut from the anime just made him look like a cardboard cut out standing behind everyone. lots of funny and interesting moments cut to make room for the moefication of serizawa katsuya..

I feel like there's a lot of important moments that were cut, (reigen "i hope i can become a partner like that" arataka, serizawa "ive had a similar experience myself" katsuya )

or sad, intense scenes that were made lighthearted (the body improvement club trying to help mob, mob and ??? dialogue being cut, reigen removing his shoes in the final arc made to be meant for better grip rather than... his passively suicidal tendencies )

i think the people at bones are very talented dont get me wrong, i just felt like S3 could have been adapted better. this keeps me up at night its like 1am :) anywhosies thank you for listening to my ted talk i love you

[pricelessemotion]

poltergeists for sidekicks | E.M.

summary: [2.3k] the kids drag eddie to the halloween store where you happen to work.

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

warnings: fluff, pining, eddie being a lovestruck idiot, r wears big prescription glasses and is described as having messy hair

a/n: happy halloween! here’s something i’ve been working on for ages just in time for the end of spooky szn! xoxo

masterlist

Eddie doesn’t hate Halloween. 

He used to love Halloween. He likes autumn. He likes watching the leaves change colors. He can appreciate the novelty of a hot apple cider and a hay ride. Hell, ever since he was old enough to go trick or treating, he reveled in it. Free candy and all he had to do was put on a costume and say three magic words? Sign him up. 

As he got older, he started to like Halloween for a slightly different reason. Don’t get him wrong, he still liked the free candy, but he liked the excuse to be someone else for a night. He liked how he could throw on a Michael Meyers mask and go door-to-door and be greeted with glee and sweets. 

It does a funny thing to a kid’s self-esteem, being treated better when he’s wearing the face of a fictional serial killer. 

Now, though, Eddie Munson is decidedly too old for trick or treating. He’s resigned himself to spending the holiday like it was any other day by spending the night in his room, playing guitar, and coming up with new campaign ideas. 

Which is exactly what he was doing when three freshmen started pounding down the door of the trailer demanding entry. Within moments, they are practically on their hands and knees asking, nay begging, for the older boy to take them to get last-minute Halloween costumes.

“Aren’t you guys too old to go trick or treating?”

“This is why we need to go to the store! If we wear masks, no one will be able to tell how old we are, hence extending our years of candy collecting.” Dustin explains, matter of factly.  

Eddie sighs, leaning back into the sofa, steepling his fingers together. “What’s in it for me?”

The three boys huddle together, conspiring in a manner that is not dissimilar to the way they plan their counterstrikes during Hellfire. They nod in sync, turning around so that Lucas is standing front and center, flanked by the two other boys.  

“That one girl you like is working there.”

Eddie remains stone-faced, quipping sarcastically, “That’s very specific.”

Mike lets out an exasperated groan, threading his fingers through his hair before yanking at the ends in frustration. “Y’know, the weird one. Coke bottle glasses, messy hair, always holding a book?”

Lucas’ eyes widen. Dustin smacks Mike on the chest and the hollow sound rings out through the empty trailer. They all start talking over each other, with two of them berating the third for A. being insensitive and B. expecting a good outcome from said insensitivity. 

Eddie wants to make a comment that your hair is not messy, it’s actually more voluminous. Besides, his hair is messy and he likes to think it makes him look badass. The glasses comment was a little unfair. Sure, the frames are a similar shade to the iconic green of the bottles of Coca-Cola. But the magnification was endearing, leaning more towards doe-eyed than bug. Unfortunately, Eddie did not consider that while he was observing you, someone might’ve been observing him. 

The assurance of your presence is how Eddie ends up here, parked outside of a hardware store turned seasonal shop. He’s helping his friends. He’s supporting a local business and therefore contributing to the local economy! You being here is just a bonus.

A bell rings above them as he swings open the door, the motion setting off a scratchy pre-recorded cackle. He’s gotta hand it to whoever is running the store. They’ve gone out of their way to transform the dingy overhead fluorescents and worn-out linoleum into something that actually resembles an eerie boutique. 

“Welcome in! I’ll be right witch you!” Your voice lilts out from the depths. 

You appear out of the darkness, expertly weaving under fake cobwebs and pushing aside fanciful drapes that have no doubt been strung up precariously around the store to add to the ambiance. You’ve got a witch’s hat on, tall and black and pointy, which further explains the pun you greeted them with. 

“How can I help you?” You smile brightly, adjusting your glasses. 

The younger boys barely spare you a glance, just a chorus of we’re good! before running off to the other side of the store, where all of the costumes are located. 

You barely blink at their rudeness. Whether that’s indicative of your experience in customer service or due to your generally sunny disposition, Eddie isn’t sure. You turn your smile and magnified gaze at him, “What about you?”

Eddie startles only slightly. He begins to peek over his shoulder as if there’s somebody else in the mostly deserted store that you could be talking to. What about him?

“Oh, I don’t need anything. I just came here with–” He gestures vaguely in the direction that the boys wandered off to. “The little shits that left me in the dust.” 

You bark out a laugh, a small smile settling on your lips. “It’s sweet of you to help them out.”

Eddie only blushes in response, murmuring a quiet it’s nothing, scratching the back of his neck like he might find a switch that’ll make him remember how to talk like a normal human being.   

“Well, if you change your mind, let me know.”

You pick up a clipboard and a pen and start leisurely strolling down the decor aisle, making inconsequential markings on the paper. Whenever you come across gaps in the shelves you reach back into them, pulling the products to the front edge with a concentration that is quite adorable. 

He’s definitely staring by now. Feigning interest in a skull-shaped candy bowl, Eddie scrambles for something, anything to keep the conversation going. “I’m surprised you’re not busier.”

“You just missed the afternoon rush.” You say, straightening a pair of plastic tarantulas that have gone askew. “Not too many people came today, though. I guess they realized that it’s so close to the holiday that the shelves would be picked over.”

“Really?”

You shrug, “I think by October 30th, most people figure if they’re gonna dress up, they’d rather just pull together something from their closets than spend money. We’re actually busier the day after Halloween because everything gets marked down and people want cheap candy.”

“Makes sense.” He nods. “So, I take it you’re a big fan of Halloween?”

Your smile is apprehensive as if you’re not sure if he’s making fun of you. Your fingers brush the brim of the witch’s hat. “What gave me away?” 

He falls into step beside you, clasping his hands behind his back and puffing out his chest. “I just had a feeling.” Then, feeling much braver than usual, he adds, “I like your outfit.”

You look at him again, clutching the clipboard to your chest. For once, your eyes are leaning more towards bug-eyed. The black velvet dress has draped sleeves and a skirt that swishes with every step. Orange and black striped tights protect your legs from the inevitable chill that comes with October in Indiana. “You do?” 

“I do.” He insists, “It totally adds to the magical vibe. If you told me that you were an actual witch and this was just something you do to pass the time I’d one hundred percent believe you.” 

All apprehension has slipped off your face, replaced by a genuine smile that cracks open his chest. “Thanks…” You trail off.

“Eddie.” He supplies. 

“Well thank you, Eddie. I’d tell you my name but I’m guessing I don’t have to.” You say, rubbing the plastic name plate on your chest. 

Eddie does know your name, but it isn’t because of your name tag. He was far too proud to ask around for your name, and far too afraid of rejection to ask you himself. He’d been lucky enough to get a library book right after you. He’d pulled the weathered paper from the slip, seen your name at the bottom of the checkout card, traced the loopy letters with the pad of his fingers. It had definitely been more than a little pathetic. 

Eddie coughs, clearing his throat, trying to maintain any semblance of nonchalance. “Do you have any plans for Halloween?” 

Your face slowly lifts from the clipboard, twirling your pen between swift fingers polished in a deep burgundy. Directing your gaze at him, you peer through dark lashes and Eddie’s never been more thankful for the inventor of coke bottle glasses. The magnification allows him to see the spark of intrigue dancing across your pupils. 

“I was just gonna stay home. Maybe help my mom pass out candy.” The implication of the last sentence seems to hit you. You look down again, scrunching up your nose. Eddie finds it endearing how your first instinct is honesty rather than anything else. 

“Cool. That’s cool,” Eddie says in a manner that is decidedly uncool. He fiddles with his rings before shoving his hands into his pockets. “Actually, I was wondering if—” 

Suddenly, Eddie feels stupid for getting lost in your eyes and not paying attention to his surroundings. Maybe then he would’ve noticed how the linoleum got ever so slightly softer under the soles of worn-out boots. He would’ve seen the cloaked figure looming in the alcove, waiting for some unwitting soul to step on the pressure plate.

Unfortunately, Eddie did not see any of those things. The poltergeist, or ghost, or whatever the fuck it is swings out. He stumbles backward, releasing a shriek that is so high-pitched, that he wonders if he should start tapping into his upper range. Maybe it would add more texture to Corroded Coffin’s Tuesday night sets. 

Instinctively, his arms fly backward, as if to protect you. He stumbles right into you, and he’s sure that if you didn’t grab his waist from behind, you would’ve fallen right over. Unfortunately, the movement has both of you careening back into a shelf, sending bags of overpriced candy and shitty Halloween decorations tumbling to the ground in a cascade of all things creepy and corny. He quickly spins around.

“Shit, are you–”

“I’m so sorry!” 

“I should’ve warned you–”

At that moment, chests heaving and hearts racing, you both seem to realize that your hands are still grazing Eddie’s waist. You spring apart, scrambling to clean up the display, haphazardly grabbing the fallen items and placing them back in their rightful places on the shelves. Among them is your hat, another casualty of the calamity. 

“I should’ve warned you,” You say again, slightly out of breath. “That thing nearly scares me to death every other day.” 

“It’s fine. I should’ve paid attention to where I was walking. It just added to the whole spooktacular experience.” He picks up the hat from the floor, dusting it off. “I think this belongs to you.” 

You give a bashful smile, but instead of putting the accessory in your outstretched hand, he gingerly places it on top of your head. Your glasses have slid down your nose from bending over to clean up his mess, and his thumbs gently push the joints of the frames until they’re sitting in their rightful place. 

“There,” He punctuates his statement with a resolute tug on your hat, making sure it’s securely on your head. “Perfect.”

You preen at him, eyes sparkling, before you cast them down at the floor. Dustin comes running around the corner, closely followed by Mike and Lucas. All of them are carrying armfuls of miscellaneous Halloween supplies, obviously alarmed at the clamor, but not alarmed enough that they didn’t take their sweet time coming from the opposite end of the store. Eddie takes advantage of your bashfulness and distinctly shoots them a look that says get the hell out of here. Dustin’s eyes dart between the two of you before they widen and his mouth forms a small oh. He sends Eddie an exaggerated wink, walking backward in order to not interrupt the private moment, dragging his two friends along with him.

“Thanks,” You smile at him. “For protecting me. I know who to bring with me if I ever want to walk through a haunted house.” 

He gives a lopsided grin, “My pleasure.”

“Ahem.” You clear your throat, “Anyways, what are your plans for Halloween?”

This is it. This is the moment that Eddie has been waiting for since he put down his guitar and his notebook and opened the trailer door. 

“That depends.” He clasps his hands behind his back, jutting his chin up in the air. “Are you working tomorrow?”

“I get off at four.” 

“The Hawk is doing this continuous horror movie marathon. Maybe you would want to go?” Eddie’s fingers are practically vibrating with excitement. He nearly forgets the most important part. “With me? I mean— Only if you like horror movies, I just figured because I’ve seen you walking around with that Stephen King novel. NOT that I’ve been watching you or anything!”

You let out a small giggle. The fact that you’re laughing and smiling is a good sign, even if it is slightly at his expense. He decides to lean into self-deprecation, hoping it’ll seem more charming than desperate. 

“I’d say I don’t scare easily, but I think we’d both know that’s a lie by now.”

You scribble something near the bottom of the paper on the clipboard, delicately folding it and ripping it off before placing it in Eddie’s palm. 

“Well, I’ve heard horror movies are less scary if you have someone to hold your hand.”

It doesn’t even matter that a ghost animatronic essentially acted as his wingman. The note with your number on it sits heavily in his pocket, thumb tracing over looped ink. Even though it’s cold as shit, he embarrassed himself, and signs of the spooky season decorate every corner, Eddie has a smile that rivals even the best of jack-o-lanterns. 

As Eddie turns off towards the dirt path that leads to Forrest Hills Trailer Park, the smile still hasn’t faded. 

For once, the streets of Hawkins seem a little less haunted. 

likes are appreciated, comments and reblogs are cherished ♥️

[themultifanshipper]

Hello.

I have a question to ask. Are you up for a honeymoon fic Landoscar? With a lot of spicy things, hehe.

<3

When Oscar and Lando had woken up severely hungover that first morning after getting married at the Vegas GP, they knew they had made the right choice.

The only problem was how the hell they were going to go on their honeymoon without arousing suspicion.

Gonna go waterboard myself in holy water now brb

Warnings: Lando makes Oscar cry, but in a sexy way, sunburns, handjob, that’s it that's the plot, under negotiated everything, edging, Oscar being in denial, cum, facial, they're both fucking freaks

They got married on 20/11/2023 at 4:12 AM in the little Vegas Chapel after the Grand Prix. It was perfect (they barely remembered it) and the only people there were Alex and Logan (the best men) and the priest (who they had to track down later and make him sign an NDA).

All in all a brilliant night.

And the proof of consummation was… well, all over them and the sheets when they woke up.

How fucking romantic.

It was now a year on from that and they still hadn't been on their honeymoon.

They were determined though. But being in the public eye made any vacationing together quite hard.

So they decided to wait. Wait long enough that if they were seen, it would be reasonable to assume it was just a mates trip to a private Island.

They were currently on said private Island one morning, limbs tangled on a sunbed, sipping some pretty strong cocktails.

“What do you want to do today?”

“I don't care as long as I'm with you”

They giggled and a slap resounded on the empty beach.

“I hate you”

“That's not what you were saying last night when I had you-”

“Okay okay! I get it!”

Disgusting.

After another hour of lounging around, Lando untangled his limbs from Oscar's and got up to get more drinks.

“You want anoth- holy shit Osc!”

His eyes widened as he turned and took in his husband’s (he'd never get tired of saying that) appearance.

“What?” Oscar sat up, confused.

Oscar’s front was a similar shade of red as a lobster, the contrast in skin between his front and back making him look like a vanilla strawberry ice cream.

“Oscar you-” Lando couldn't contain his laughter “you forgot to put cream on again!”

Lando put his hand on Oscar's thigh and Oscar gasped in pain.

“Shit baby we need to go put something on that, let's go”

Oscar ended up laying on his back while Lando straddled his midsection and rubbed Aloe over his face and chest.

“Ah!” he hissed as a hand went over a patch of particularly red skin “careful where you put your bear paws!”

Lando laughed and squirted some more cream on his hands.

“Sorry baby, but it needs to be done. Besides you love my bear paws, especially when I put them on your-”

“Jesus, do you ever shut up!” Oscar laughed and Lando gasped at his meanness.

“Don't be mean to me when I'm helping you out!”

Oscar’s hands came up to cup Lando's ass over his shorts and squeeze lightly.

“You love it when I'm mean though, don't lie.”

“Oh yeah?” Lando smiled playfully “I can be mean too you know”

Oscar couldn't help the snort that escaped him. “Yeah right, I'll believe that when I see it, you’re just too sweet”

“I am not!” he tried to defend but Oscar just laughed at him “You just haven't seen my bad side, yet”

Oscar cackled and shot a look of disbelief at Lando.

Lando raised his eyebrows in challenge and shuffled backwards onto Oscar's thighs, making sure to rub against his crotch on the way.

“Shut up and let me finish putting the cream on” he scowled as he squirted a load straight onto Oscar's hot skin moodily.

“Aw… are you getting stroppy now because I laughed at you, baby?” Oscar cooed, hands reaching for Lando but he slapped them away.

“Touche me, or say another word, and I stop completely, understand?”

Oscar nodded, eyebrows almost fused with his hairline at Lando's harsh tone.

“And we'll see just how fucking mean I can be” the older man growled.

Well shit.

Lando quickly rubbed cream over Oscar's burns, before sitting back and ordering him to take his shorts off.

“Pardon?” Oscar wasn't used to being ordered around.

“If I have to repeat myself then I'll take them off, and I’m not going to be gentle”

That's a point, Oscar thought. He didn't want to take any chances with the burns so he peeled them off himself, making sure to give his skin a wide birth.

Once settled back into the sheets, Lando grabbed more cream and started rubbing it around Oscar's crotch, which was unnecessary given that the skin there was free of burns thanks to his shorts. But Lando apparently decided to turn this into a massage, because he was digging his thumbs into Oscar’s flesh, hard enough to make him groan at the feeling.

Then he dug his thumbs into Oscar's adductor muscles and the younger man yelped and stared daggers at him.

“What's the matter, baby?” Lando asked mockingly, “Am I going too hard for you?”

His eyes were inviting him to a challenge, one he knew Oscar wouldn't back down from.

Oscar shook his head, remembering Lando's warning from before, and quickly settled back down.

This was a new side to Lando. And it was getting Oscar a bit hot and bothered as his husband just carried on massaging/torturing him. The idea of being at his husband's mercy was turning him on enormously.

His dick twitched against his stomach and Lando chuckled.

“Careful Osc, one could think being submissive is turning you on” his voice was full of mirth but Oscar refused to acknowledge him, and stared at the ceiling while shaking his head.

“No? Must be mistaken then”

He continued along Oscar's groin, massaging the cream in and rubbing him in all the right places.

When Lando cupped his balls and pressed on his perineum at the same time, Oscar let out a strangled gasp.

He was dripping, he could feel it. But he refused to give Lando the satisfaction of asking him to touch him.

“You want me to stop Osc?” Lando had a teasing lilt to his voice. Oscar shook his head.

“If you want me to touch you all you have to do is be a good boy and say ‘please”

But Oscar, by some twisted sense of ego, refused to give in so he didn't answer.

Lando laughed softly and ran a finger up Oscar's cock, making the younger man shudder and his hips buck up of their own volition.

“That looks painful, Osc”

“Then fucking touch it”

Lando’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Not until you say please”

“Please” Oscar huffed out.

Lando tutted. “That wasn't very convincing, Osc.” His fingers ran along the tip and back down over his balls, but Oscar just about managed to stay impassive. He looked right into Lando's eyes.

“If you want me to say please you're going to have to do better than that”

Lando grinned like a Cheshire cat.

“Oh honey, I'm not going to stop until you're begging”

The look in his eyes was predatory and Oscar almost caved then and there.

But on principal, Oscar did not beg.

Cut to about 30 minutes later and Oscar was whimpering into his arm as Lando placed kitten licks on his dripping tip.

“Still not desperate enough to say please?”

Oscar just growled “nope” but it was so strained Lando barely heard it.

“Fine, maybe I need to try a different approach, then”

Oscar looked on as Lando grabbed the cream and squirted some straight onto Oscar’s cock.

Oscar hissed at the cold, but it was nothing compared to the feeling of Lando's large hand engulfing his cock and immediately starting a fast, tight, pace.

Oscar was writhing at the sudden intense pleasure after so long being teased, and he was having trouble getting air in his lungs as he hurdled towards an orgasm in record time.

His toes curled and his back arched as he felt the orgasm creep up his spine.

But just like that the feeling was replaced by a very tight hold around the base of his cock, the release his body craved ripped away from him.

“No! Lan-”

“Shhh, baby” Lando cooed “It's okay, I’ve got you”

While Oscar slowly came down from his almost-release, Lando reapplied some cream to make the slide as wet as possible, then proceeded to start stroking Oscar at the same pace as before, this time adding extra pressure.

Oscar was openly whining now, hands gripping the sheets so hard it’s shocking they weren't tearing.

“Now, I'm going to do that over and over again until you’re a good boy for me, okay”

Oscar couldn't contain the whine that came out of his mouth. He was getting close again and his eyes were filling up with tears at the white hot pleasure.

“Please” he let out a broken sob as his thighs started clenching with his impending orgasm.

“Oh you can do better than that, Osc” Lando’s pace didn't falter.

“Fuck- please Lan, I'll do anything. I need to come so bad, please, please. Please don't stop…” he was openly sobbing now, tears running down his cheeks as he took shuddering breaths.

He was so beautiful and pliant like this, Lando was unbelievably hard. He took pity on him and allowed him to come, other hand going to massage his balls for good measure.

“Good boy, Oscar. You can come now, go on.”

Oscar screamed as he came, hot spurts of his come landing over his abs and all the way up to his chin.

The sight of him, covered in his own cum, flush deepening the red of his burns, gasping for air, almost made Lando come on the spot.

He shuffled over to Oscar's head and pushed his shorts down to jerk himself off furiously.

“Open your mouth, tongue out” he ordered, grabbing Oscar’s jaw and aiming for his tongue.

It took him no time at all to come, and most of it landed on Oscar's cheeks and chin. It was absolutely sinful, the way his face was streaked with come, tongue hanging out, eyes unfocused, he looked like a sick man's dream.

Fortunately, Lando was a sick man.

“Shit Osc, I can't believe it took me this long to find out you’re a good little slut when you want to be”

Oscar took a long time to reply, trying to regulate his breathing.

When he finally did, a low growl came from his side of the bed.

“As soon as I get the feeling back in my legs, I'm going to fuck you until the sun sets, and I'm not giving you any breaks, no matter how many times you come”

Lando glanced at the clock.

It was only 1 pm…

Shit.

[pretentious-blonde]

turning pages

pairing: steve harrington x reader

summary: making the most of the beginnings of autumn, steve takes his girl to a bookshop. only problem is, he is clueless as to what she is talking about.

warnings: none, steve being insecure?

a/n: today feels like the first day of autumn so I wanted to write something for steve being obsessed with his girl <3

The crisp autumn morning was a blessing after the oppressive heat of the summer. The wind carried with it the scent of fallen leaves and the familiar smell of burning wood, probably from a distant bonfire. Steve took in the beauty of the morning as he walked with you, practically glued to your side, matching your every step with his own. 

The sun shone bright above the pair, but did little to heat the two of you. Instead, it covered the trees in a warm orange glow, complementing the leaves that continued to fall. The colours only added to it—crimson reds and burnt oranges, scattered across the pavement you strolled down, giving a satisfying crunch as you both walked. 

Wrapped up warm next to him in her oversized jumper was his girl, clad in an old winter coat that looked like it could swallow her whole. Her cheeks were flushed from the chilly breeze, making her features appear even softer. He didn’t think that was possible. 

She took a sip of her hot chocolate, something she was so excited to finally have now the weather had cooled down. He was more of a coffee drinker himself, but he wouldn’t let her know that, especially when her eyes lit up as she ordered one for him too. Giddily handing it to him and watching as he took his first sip. 

For her, it would be his new favourite. 

He watched the way her breath came out in small clouds, the morning light illuminating her face and a few strands of hair that framed her perfectly. 

He couldn’t hide the smile from his face even if he tried; he thanked the coldness for hiding his own reddening cheeks. Everything about her mesmerised him, even more so today—the peaceful look in her eyes, the way she looked so snug in her layers, radiating warmth despite the dropping temperature. She had to fight him off that morning after he insisted on wrapping her up more, offering up his jumper collection for her comfort. Eventually, she gave in and didn’t fight when he draped his scarf around her neck, tying it up and tucking it into her jacket. 

He wanted her to always be comfortable. Always be happy. 

His own hot chocolate helped to warm his fingers, every sip reminding him of the sweet girl next to him. As the two of you walked, you could feel his gaze wandering to you, your eyes wide and sparkling as you talked about everything and nothing. Your laughter rang aloud at something he said and his heart leapt in his chest, he felt lucky for being the cause of it. 

Every now and then, he’d reach out and gently brush a stray leaf from your coat or adjust his scarf as you tell him off for fussing too much. You do it all with a small grin, he knows you secretly love it, and all he is thinking about is how he’d do anything to keep that smile on your face. 

As you continued to wander along the street, he felt you pause next to him before grabbing his arm with excitement. He chuckled as you dragged him in the direction of the bookshop, just happy to be in your company. 

“C’mon, I didn’t know this was here!” You tell him, practically skipping towards the entrance. 

“Neither did I, honey,” he says, keeping his tone upbeat so as to not dim your enthusiasm. This was not exactly his comfort zone and the last thing he wanted was for you to think you were dating some kind of fool. 

As you pulled him inside, he was hit with the cosy smell of old parchment, similar to the one that filled your apartment. Probably due to your overflowing bookshelf. The lighting was dim and inviting, flowing over your form as you began to wander down the aisles. He watched from afar as your brows furrowed in concentration, carefully inspecting each new book you spotted. It was clear you were in your element. 

The boy tried to act casual, leaning against one of the shelves, tucking his hands in his pockets. But internally, he was nervous. He knew nothing about books. Years of trying in class but failing miserably, his skills were more social ones, not academic. His mind started overthinking the entire situation. Maybe you liked smarter guys, men who could recommend you something, knowing immediately what you would like. Someone you could drink hot chocolate with and exchange reading materials while talking about obscure authors and their works. 

“This place is pretty cool, angel,” he said while pretending to look around. 

You tore your gaze away from the book in your hand, your smile bright. “I know right? I can’t believe we have never seen it here before.”

You carried on perusing the shelves, this time taking Steve with you, picking up a few classics that you have read previously. You held up a second-hand copy of Pride and Prejudice, your eyes glinting with excitement. “This is an absolute favourite. Elizabeth Bennet falls in love with Mr Darcy. He is so misunderstood in my opinion. It’s all about social class and personal growth—I love it. Real old school romance.”

He nodded enthusiastically as he listened intently to what you were saying. Mr Darcy, Bennet…right. Got it. His small smile never fell as he tried to keep up with your rambling. “Yeah, sounds great, honey. I mean—if you say it’s that great—I believe you.”

You laughed and shoved his shoulder teasingly. “My opinion is always correct. Okay, let me show you…” you scan the shelf to try and find another title. “This one,” you hold up a book with the author Shirley Jackson printed on the bottom. 

“This one is a bit of a psychological thriller. It’s about two sisters living in isolation, and it’s got this eerie, unsettling vibe. You’d probably laugh if I told you it’s a bit of a horror novel. I mean, I don’t exactly see you reading ghost stories.”

“I’m sure it’s super creepy. I’ll take your word for it.” He tried to sound convincing, but his mind was elsewhere. What’s a psychological thriller again? Fuck.

You continued to talk about books, stopping to tell him what you loved and what you didn’t about each one. Steve found himself more focused on how adorable you looked when you were passionate about something. Your hands gestured animatedly as you described the plots and characters, and he couldn’t help but be completely enchanted by your enthusiasm. His smart girl. 

He wanted to ask questions to keep you talking, but he was worried about saying something that might seem stupid. What if I ask the wrong thing? He didn’t want to seem clueless—god—if only he had paid more attention in English class. Maybe then he could at least try to humour you better. 

Instead, he just kept nodding, offering encouraging smiles and the occasional, “That sounds really cool.” Just hoping it was the right thing to say, wracking his brain to find a more exciting adjective than ‘cool’.

As you continued to browse, Steve’s eyes caught sight of a familiar cover on a nearby shelf, The Great Gatsby. He hadn’t thought about that book in ages, but he remembered reading it—pretending to read it—a while back in class and tried desperately to remember something—anything—from the plot. Trying to act casual, leaning over you as he pointed at it, your senses suddenly filled with the smell of bergamot and amberwood. 

“Hey, Gatsby. I, uh, liked it.” He ran a hand through his hair, an action that you quickly learnt he did when he was stressed or unsure, you could hear the hesitation in his voice. Steve regretted speaking up immediately. Everyone had read it, or at least studied it back in school. It was hardly impressive. He just wanted to contribute somehow. Wanted to share something with you that you were passionate about. 

You turned to him with a warm smile, clearly seeing through his nonchalant facade. “You’ve read The Great Gatsby? I love Fitzgerald’s work.”

Steve’s face turned a pretty shade of pink at your reassurance. God, you’re too sweet for him. 

“Yeah, I remember it being pretty good. I mean, it’s definitely one of those books that, like, sticks with you, right?”

You chuckled and gave him a playful nudge, the action alone making his chest tighten at your innocent touch. “Definitely. I’m impressed you remembered it. You’ve got good taste.”

Steve’s smile widened, his eyes filled with adoration, your response made him feel like he was doing something right as relief washed over him. He reached out, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. “I’m just happy I’m with you, honey. I like you telling me this…stuff. You make it all sound so interesting.”

You beamed up at him, your eyes shining. “Well, I’m glad you’re here. As long as you’re ok with me talking your ear off.”

Please, he thought. He would listen to you ramble all day.

When you had finally finished looking around, you had narrowed it down to only two books you were going to buy, clutching them both close to your chest. Steve walked up beside you, grabbing the slightly battered copy of Pride and Prejudice along with the Shirley Jackson novel you’d had gushed to him about earlier. You glanced at him in surprise as he added them to the stack at the counter.

“Wait, why are you getting those?” you asked, tilting your head as he reached into his pocket, handing the cashier the cash. 

Steve shrugged casually, brushing off your question. “Because you like them, and I’m gonna read them,” he said with a confident grin, holding the door open for you as you both stepped back into the cold air outside, books in hand.

You blinked up at him as you stopped walking, shaking your head at the thought of inconveniencing him. “You really don’t have to, you know. I wasn’t trying to make you read them.”

He stopped when you did, giving you that soft, classic Steve look that always made your knees go weak. 

“Nonsense,” he replied, his voice full of affection as he held a hand up to your stressed face. “If you like them, angel, I’ll love them. Plus, I kinda want to know what you’re talking about when you get all excited next time you bring me here.”

Your heart melted on the spot. “You’re too nice, you know that?”

His confident expression faltered, now looking more bashful. He slipped his hand into yours as you continued your walk, not wanting it to get cold. 

“Only for you,” he said, giving your fingers a gentle squeeze. “And I’ll read anything if it means I get to hear more of what you gotta say.”

You glanced up at him, a playful smirk playing on your lips. “Oh, really? Gonna give you a pop quiz and everything once you’ve finished them if that’s the case.”

Steve chuckled, feeling the pressure already with your teasing threat. “Quiz me? Uh, maybe let me get through a few chapters first, honey.”

“I’ll make flashcards for you and everything. You’ll be an expert on Austen when I’m done with you.” You giggle. 

He laughed, shaking his head at your antics. “If I suddenly become a literary genius, it’s all thanks to you, angel.”

You leaned closer to him, taking your hand away from his so he could wrap a strong arm around your shoulders. 

“I like you just the way you are.” The words fell out of your mouth with ease.

Steve rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide how he felt after hearing you say that. Your words would be replaying in his head for weeks to come. “Keep sweet-talking me, and I might even start quoting Pride and Prejudice just to impress you.”

“Oh, I’d love to see that,” you teased. “You as Mr. Darcy? Perfect.”

“At your service, Miss Bennet.” He said, giving you a small bow, he hoped he remembered names right from earlier.

You burst out laughing, feeling warmer thanks to the sweet boy next to you. He pulled you closer, pressing a soft kiss to your temple as you continued down the street together, tucked under his shoulder, hot chocolate now cold in your paper cups. Not that it mattered, he would buy you as many as you liked as long as he was with you.