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blindmagdalena · 4 months

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Guilty Pleasures

18+ 3.3k homelander x plus size f!reader. workplace harassment, stalking, voyeurism, masturbation, lite humiliation kink, sublander flavored. nebulously takes place post s1. part 1/4. AO3 link. | CH 2 | CH 3 | CH 4

Homelander is on top of the world. He can say or do whatever the fuck he wants, and the sycophants around him will bend over backwards to make his word law, with few notable exceptions.

He never expected you to be one of them. When you put him in his place after a workplace incident, he becomes fixated on the promise of a firm hand alongside a soft body.

It’s Thursday, which means Homelander is currently bored to tears less than ten minutes into Vought’s weekly digital marketing meeting. These monotonous discussions of percentages and trending graphics gradually begin to feel like a drill pushing slowly into each of his ears, but they’re a necessary evil if he wants to have input when it comes to his image.

He taps his fingers impatiently on the armrest of his chair. The tapping pauses, however, at the appearance of a new presenter.

You.

You’re a far cry from the dime a dozen jackass in a suit that had been presenting before you. He’s sure he hasn’t seen you before, which means you’re new. His gaze drifts from your round face to the sensible cut of your blouse, the garment buttoned nearly to your throat. Anything less would be considered lewd given the size of your breasts. He wets his lips absently, adjusting himself to sit a little straighter.

He’s completely lost track of what you’re talking about in favor of watching the way your hips sway each time you walk from one end of the board to the other, tactfully engaging each observer. You have a resonant voice, commanding attention without sounding harsh. With a rack like that, you must have to fight to have a word you say heard by anyone with even a passing interest in a good pair of tits.

Not that the cheap fabric of your bra is doing them any favors. Silk would be better. He’s always liked the shine of it. Softer, too. It wouldn’t scrape against your shirt the way he can hear that cotton blend you’re wearing is doing.

Curious, he focuses his vision to peer through your blouse. Your undergarments are plain and sensible. Boring. Still, it elicits a distinct pang between his legs. His mouth waters slightly. Even from where he is, he can smell you, fresh and clean, slightly sweet smelling–like vanilla. Your clothes may be pedestrian but at least your perfume is nice.

Letting his gaze slide lower, he admires how the curves of your body flow into one another. He can tell just by looking at you how soft you would feel against him, under him. How good you would feel to grip and hold in place, sink into and lose himself in. Your voice has a soothing quality to it that lets him easily imagine you’re breathlessly singing his praises instead of rattling off bullet points in a presentation.

Fuck, he’s getting hard, his cock throbbing lightly against the cup of his suit. It’s the only thing that allows him to fantasize as freely as he does. The best part of it is that he’s fairly certain he can sense something warm and wet throbbing between your thick thighs.

He suspects he’s not the only one fantasizing.

The room is quiet for a second too long, and Homelander abruptly tunes back in to realize you’re staring directly at him, expectancy in your gaze. He pulls a blank, realizing he hasn’t processed anything you’ve said. “Say again?”

There’s a flicker of irritation in your eyes before you tightly school your expression back into polite professionalism. His lips slowly split into a devious smile that he consciously fine-tunes to be more neutral. How close you came to some sort of heated response was kind of… cute. It makes him want to give your proverbial pigtails another tug just to see what else he can evoke.

The thought of pulling your hair is good. The thought of you pulling his hair is better, though.

“I asked if you have any feedback for our campaign leading up to the premiere,” you say, though Homelander finds himself more interested in the flash of your tongue he gets as you run it along your teeth afterwards. Your temperature is up a notch, too. You must not be used to such direct attention from someone like him.

“Nope,” he says glibly, turning on one of his patented knock-out smiles. “Looks good to me.” At that, he pointedly looks you up and down, meeting your gaze with a quick wink.

Judging by the slight tic at the corner of your mouth, you aren’t charmed by his response. Still, he waits in preemptive satisfaction for you to appease him by returning his smile.

You don’t.

Instead, you say nothing more than a terse “Wonderful,” the singular word barely passing for civil, let alone professional. You move on, and Homelander finds himself taken aback. You don’t meet his eye for the remainder of the presentation, and while that gives him plenty of opportunity to ogle you, it bothers him.

Towards the end of your time, he clears his throat. Everyone looks at him.

Everyone but you.

“Thanks so much for your time,” you say to the committee, smiling, finishing your piece with a small incline of your head. You go sit, and there’s a slightly awkward pause before the next presenter takes center stage.

Homelander sits in stunned silence. The idea that you, some fresh faced nobody, think you’re in any position to blow him off is laughable at best. Who cares if he didn’t pay attention to your little presentation? That’s not his job. You’re lucky he’s even here, lucky that someone like him would think to give you time out of his day.

By the time the meeting concludes, you haven’t spared him so much as a glance. Indignation builds hotly in his chest. He’s had more than enough of being snubbed lately. He’s not going to tolerate it from the likes of you.

You should be on your hands and knees begging for his attention.

He watches a handful of your peers congratulate you on your first presentation, though plenty of others cast him wary glances and decide not to approach you. They know better. They know who’s really in charge around here. Naturally, they all skitter away like roaches when he strides towards you.

“Not bad for your first presentation,” he tells you, his smile toned down into a thin, lopsided smirk.

You look around yourself, no doubt taking note of how the other little insects around you have scattered. Maybe now you’ll realize your mistake.

“Thank you, sir,” you say, your body angled slightly away from him, as if you’re ready to bolt at any second.

“Got a lot on my mind, though, so I don’t think I absorbed as much as I could have,” he says, laying on that boyish charm a little thicker than usual. “Would really appreciate it if you could stick around and run that by me one more time.”

Your gaze flickers away from him–he wishes you would stop doing that–to the others who’re filtering out of the room, slowly leaving the two of you behind. “As I said during the presentation, all the documents will be available online,” you say, finally looking back at him. You actually have the audacity to look annoyed that he’s talking to you.

“I don’t have a computer,” he replies, his own voice beginning to flatten.

“I’m sure someone in IT can help you with that,” you say, undeterred by his attempts to corner you.

His smile tightens minutely. “Do you have some kind of problem with me?”

Your heart jumps. He finds satisfaction in that, at least.

“No, sir,” you say sharply, a barely discernible hitch in your voice. “What I have are deadlines. If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to meet them.” With that, you manage to squeeze by him. Despite the steady confident tap of your shoes against the floor, your heart races rabbit-like in his ears.

He contemplates you as you go, momentarily stupefied by your flagrant disregard for him. You weren’t entirely unaffected by his presence, though. If you’d had less of an avenue for escape, would you have been so flippant? He continues to focus on the beat of your heart as your steps carry you further from him. It doesn’t slow. You’re still full of adrenaline, the scent of it lingering alongside your perfume. He inhales a slow, deep breath, the leather of his gloves creaking as he curls and uncurls his fist.

Homelander finds himself wondering what your agenda is, what makes you so desperate to break from the norm and catch his attention. It’s clear to him that’s what you want. Why else would you be so stubborn where anyone else would yield? He scoffs to himself.

God, it’s so obvious in hindsight.

He has no doubt that your brazen attitude would shatter if he pressed in closer, if you felt the heat of his breath on your lips. He could part your soft thighs and paint the face of God on the ceiling above you with his tongue inside you. You couldn’t dismiss him so easily then, could you?

You’re so determined to be noticed that it’s almost pathetic. He shouldn’t reward this kind of behavior, and yet he feels strangely inclined to commend it. What you’ve done is brave in a way. Insolence and sycophants he can’t abide, but a touch of bravery? Well… That can be rewarded.

Your heart thunders in your ears as you make a beeline for your office. You can feel a terrible burn crawling up your chest and into your cheeks, the reality of what just happened finally allowed to sink in. You had spent all morning preparing yourself for presenting your work in front of not only your new peers at Vought, but in front of the world’s most prolific superhero. You were solid, you were ready.

Until you felt the gravity of his gaze on you. The weight of it made you stutter where you shouldn’t have, lose your train of thought mid-sentence. Every time you dared to look at him, he was looking at you like he was going to swallow you whole. Never have you felt more acutely aware of yourself than you did beneath his stare, feeling the way he was picking you apart as keenly as you would feel his hands undressing you.

It left you as furious as you are flustered.

That arrogant bastard!

You close the door behind you with a rough breath, closing your eyes. You can’t even sit, you have to pace your office instead, shaking your hands out as you walk. You know you weren’t imagining it. He confirmed as much for you when it took a solid eight seconds of silence for him to tear his gaze up from your chest, smiling as wickedly as any devil and caught elbow-deep in the cookie jar.

You couldn’t look him in the eye after that. It was humiliating to be reduced so thoroughly and obviously in front of your peers. Worst of all, he seemed damn pleased by it.

Though that isn’t the only reason your heart is still racing. You’re not quite ready to address that yet. You’re fairly certain if you’d been forced to speak to him any more than you had, you would have said something that would cause you to lose your job. You just need space to breathe, to collect yourself, to–

There’s a brisk knock at your door. Great. What now?

“Just a m–” You’re stopped dead in your tracks by a familiar flash of red, white and blue as Homelander lets himself into your office, closing the door securely behind him.

“Howdy,” he greets. He looks cartoonishly wide and brightly colored against the neutral colors of your office, even more larger than life than he’d seemed in the conference room. He has a smile that looks like it belongs in the mouth of a shark about to take a bite of you. It sets you off kilter completely–not that you’d been much on it to begin with.

You gawk a moment before managing to close your mouth. “Homelander,” you say, your voice curt in your own ears. You have no idea how to address him, still frazzled from not only the presentation, but your interaction that followed it. You should ask him what he needs.

“What’re you doing here?” That came out ruder than you meant it to. Not that he doesn’t deserve it. Still, you’re trying to keep this job.

“Are you always this pleasant?” He asks, cocking his head slightly as he comes to a stop in front of you, his arms held behind his back beneath his swaying cape. “Or did I catch you on a bad day?”

Is he serious?

“Your conduct today was inappropriate,” you say flatly, settling your hands on your hips.

Homelander scoffs lightly. “Oh, relax. You gonna ‘#Metoo’ me over a wink? Christ, you’re done up tighter than that blouse of yours,” he says, his gaze dipping. A chill rolls up your spine as you watch his tongue roll along his teeth. He’s like an animal anticipating a meal.

Your jaw drops, cold shock settling in your gut alongside that blistering heat. Of all the things you had prepared yourself for before coming to Vought, Homelander being a misogynistic sex-pest hadn’t been on your list.

Well. Not the sex-pest part, anyways.

You point to your office door. “Get out.”

He blinks, zero comprehension in those deceptively charming baby blues. His smile turns incredulous. “I’m starting to think you don’t understand what’s happening here,” he says, his tone taking on a precarious edge. He lets out a breathy, mirthless laugh. “You know, most people in your position would be begging for my attention.”

There it is.

You suck a noise through your teeth, nodding slowly. "Oh, I understand exactly what’s happening here,” you say, shifting your weight like you’re winding up for a pitch. “I know you think you're special because you're famous, or a supe, or both. I know you think I should be grateful that you’d even look at someone like me, but you’re not special, and I’m not grateful. The reality of the matter is I can get dick whenever I want it–good dick–and I can get it without being humiliated at my job.”

The silence in the room is deafening. Homelander looks stupefied, but you decide that you’re not done.

“You're not blessing me by making entitled passes and crude remarks while I'm trying to work. You’re being a nuisance,” you say, your heart beating in your throat. “So please, would you kindly leave?” You ask, voice firm despite the friendlier nature of your phrasing.

Finally, Homelander is the one left gawking. He looks like a fish with the way his mouth keeps opening and closing, but it’s the dismissive, aborted little scoffs he makes in between that really sell his wounded bewilderment. You can see tension lurking just beneath the surface, an anger that skulks in the creak of his leather gloves.

Fear begins to creep up the back of your throat, burning like bile, but you hold steady as he seems to be deciding what he’s going to do with you. The longer the quiet stretches on, your focus entirely on the subtle spasms in his expression, the more sweat begins to prickle at the back of your neck. You refuse to fill the space, you refuse to back down.

For all his power, he’s still just a man.

Eventually, he swallows. “Okie-dokie,” he says, his tone unlike anything you expected. He sounds confused–a little dazed, even. He walks to the door, and after one hesitant look back at you, he leaves.

The door closes with a soft click that still makes you flinch, the sound of it loud in the silence of the room. You blink several times, the abruptness of his departure making the whole encounter feel like some sort of fever dream.

What the fuck just happened?

You’re not special.

The impact of those words struck Homelander’s ears like a loud, painful ringing that follows him as he walks out of your office. He feels off balance, each step leaning slightly to the right.

It’s a ludicrous statement. Objectively wrong. Who in the fucking world could be more special than him? He’s a literal god, and you’re no one. A faceless, nameless cog in Vought’s mechanism that hoists him to the top of it all. That’s your job. To elevate him. Worship him.

Instead you spoke to him as if he were nothing. He could have cut you down where you stood for that. He could have put your head through your office window, snapped your neck, held your skull and burned your eyes out of–

He shakes his head sharply, swaying. He all but stumbles into the bathroom, surprising one of the worker drones washing their hands. “Get out,” Homelander says gruffly.

“Uh, sir–”

“Get the fuck out!” He snaps, startling the man so badly he immediately rushes off, fumbling with the door on his way out. Homelander slams it shut and lets out a ragged breath, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes, then his temples as he paces the bathroom. His reflection taunts him from his peripheral vision.

He hasn’t been able to look himself in the eye since he snapped his Doppelganger’s neck while he knelt before him.

That’s what he wants from you, isn’t it? Mindless desperate praise and worship. Why, then, does the thought od it make his stomach churn so violently he can taste the burn of bile? He tugs compulsively at his suit collar, the press of it against his skin uncharacteristically hot and itchy.

“I can get dick whenever I want it–good dick.”

He shamefully palms himself through his suit, confusingly hard amidst a swirling turbulence of contradicting thoughts and feelings. He could be good for you, too, if you’d fucking let him. He knows he could make you crumble, take apart that carefully constructed demeanor of professionalism and make you see him for what he is. He can prove himself to you. He will prove that you’re wrong about him, and then you’ll show him the love respect he deserves.

Hurriedly, he unzips his pants. His eyelashes flutter as he shoves his hand into them, roughly grabbing hold of his cock. He braces his forearm against the bathroom door and lets his head drop forward, watching his crimson glove pump the leaking head of his dick. His mind bounces between scenarios. He imagines himself in your place, fully on display for you to ogle. He imagines you’re watching him even now, staring him down with that unaffected look of indifference, of irritation, of disgust.

He bites back a whine, gritting his teeth. He wants so badly to imagine his face buried in your soft tits while he fucks the plush space between your thighs, but he knows you won’t let him. Not right away. You’d make him earn it, wouldn’t you? You’d make him watch you please yourself before he ever got so much as a taste.

The glassiness in his eyes begins to sizzle, the moisture burning away as crimson light flares up in them. Would you laugh if you could see him now, or would you scold him for touching himself without your permission?

Homelander comes hard, tipping his head back with a loud moan as he paints the bathroom door with ribbon after ribbon of come. He barely manages not to blow a hole through the ceiling, the light of his eyes flaring and softening in time with each euphoric wave of release. He pants through it, head falling forward and thunking lightly against the door, resting there while he catches his breath.

“Fuck,” he exhales eventually, sighing. He wipes his hand on the wall and then carefully tucks himself back into his pants, his mind swirling hazily on the best high he’s had since…

Clearing his throat, he puts himself back together before leaving the bathroom. Clearly, the thing that he’s been missing is a challenge.

Luckily for him, you’ve kindly volunteered yourself.

( chapter two )

#part two of this fic is mostly finished. i'll probably post it next week!#homelander x reader #homelander #homelander x you #my writing #homelander fanfiction #plus size reader #i've had this in my wips since early december and i just really wanted to get something posted

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eshithepetty · 1 year

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Vote mob in the @autismswagsummit and support this emotionally repressed, academically challenged and terrifyingly powerful autistic 14 yo and his gaggle of overenthusiastic friends today..!!! (Or. Today as in when the voting starts again ig)

[ID: three drawings of Mob from Mob Psycho 100 interacting with one character in each concerning the autism swag summit.

The first one is a comic of him and Ritsu. In the first panel, Ritsu is clutching his phone so tight it's shaking, the screen showing the result of the Donnie vs Kris poll wherein Donnie had won. The background is a purple gradient, and he says "no..." The next panel, the background a darker purple with wavy swirls, shows Ritsu hunched over, hair falling over his shadowed eyes, teeth grit as he continues "no- this can't be...! I won't allow it, no, no-". He gets interrupted with "Ritsu, are you alright-" and the final panel brightens to a pastel peach, Ritsu looking back, distraught, at Mob, yelling "YOU'RE GONNA LOSE AT AUTISM NII-SAN". Mob, who is simply standing there, in his gym shorts and a half tucked in pink shirt, holding a glass of milk, replies "h?"

The second image is one done in red and green tones, of Dimple and Mob. Mob sits at his desk with a tired expression, one hand curled to his temple as he does his homework, Dimple hovering over him with his fists balled, as he says, "Do you want me to go beat that guy up?". Mob replies, "No, Dimple." Dimple continues, "I follow you 24/7 so I know more than anyone how much you should win this." Mob replies, "That's creepy. Just help me with my maths homework, Dimple."

The third is of Reigen and Mob. Mob has a finger raised, his aura coating his hand, as he looks back tiredly at Reigen, who has one hand on his hip and the other on Mob's shoulder, smiling cockily and sweating slightly. The background a simple light yellow, the both of them colored in pastel pinks and illuminated by a teal light that comes from Mob's power. Reigen says, "It's okay, Mob, no matter what, you're still my #1 autism." Though the annotation beneath his words, pointing to him, clarifies, "has no idea what's going on." End ID.]

#autismsummit2023 #mob psycho 100 #mp100 #kageyama shigeo #kageyama ritsu #dimple mp100 #reigen arataka #ekubo mp100 #art #comic #described #tumblr polls #my own art #my own post #alternate caption: vote mob or ritsu is gonna cry and sob and bite someone .probably /j #auuuu i have more art i want to do for this.... a whole 4 page comic actually that im taking way too seriously most notably jdgdjnd #i just. dont have the time to finish it in time before the next round starts. thatll be for part two i guess #desperately hoping mob is still in next week so i can post it as propaganda for the final round #also. i knowwhw ive barely been posting anything else. augh #ive simply been having a Time and this is a thing that actually is. somewhat time sensitive?? so im determined to post about it #its not the only thing on my brain i promise jdgdj #in fact i have been getting into. fucking danny phantom of all things recently for some reason???#anyways #im rambling sorry. brain mush. ill stop now lmao have good days n nights everyones #oh also o7 to the donnie supporters #i geniunely really fear you lol. you lot are. Very determined #so much propaganda gosh...#honestly i wouldnt be that dissapointed if donnie won over mob ig? cause donnie is very pog too and i know hes important to a lot of you #just like how mob is important to us. even if ive not yet watcher rottmnt #and yeah hes. good!!! also!!! still supporting my son mobbles tho. may we meet fair and square and respectful in the battle field

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turtlecleric · 19 days

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Rise!Leo anyone? [Doesn't wait for an answer]

CWs: Implied non-consensual drugging and dubcon/somno-ish activities; to be clear, Leo is not a good guy in this

You can't sleep.

Again.

When you call, Leo answers immediately. There's amusement in his tone when you ask if he might come over and keep you company. A chuckle that has goosebumps running along your arms when you ask him to bring some of that tea that helped you fall asleep so easily last week.

“Of course, hermosa.” There's something in his tone that you can't read, but… you're far too tired to care. You're sure he would tell you if you really needed to know. “I'll be over soon.”

Moments later, he's walking through the portal that sparks to life in your living room. Pulling you into a hug that has you melting against his plastron. He sighs, tightening his arms around you as he holds you for far longer than necessary - surely a sign of his concern, of his care for you.

When he pulls away, you smile up at him, and he smiles back before moving to the kitchen, pulling you along behind him without a word.

The tea is ready in just a few minutes. The warmth of the cup seeps into your hands nicely, the pleasant, herby aroma that fills the air already making your eyelids droop a bit more.

“Drink up,” he murmurs, watching you intently.

All it takes is one sip for you to feel the effects. Thoughts turning to smoke, muscles relaxing… it's truly amazing, this tea that he's willing to share with you. It must really be something special for it to work so well. Though, to be honest, you're not 100% sure that it isn't just…Leo. His presence, helping you finally, finally relax. Quieting those thoughts that keep you awake, soothing the anxiety that never really goes away.

Leo pulls you to the couch. Puts something on the TV. You can't really focus on it, though. You can only focus on the feeling of his hand, gently rubbing your nape. His solid presence beside you. The way he not only lets you relax into him but actively encourages it, pulling you closer.

Everything seems to blur. You're vaguely aware of the fact that he carries you to bed. That he's petting your hair, whispering soft words into your ear.

“Just relax,” he says, his hands trailing down to grip your hips softly.

And you do.

Tag list: @yorshie @thejudiciousneurotic @khayalli @mxalmighty @justalotoffanfiction @luckycharms1701 @thelaundrybitch @shakeyourtrees

#turtlecleric scrolls #rise!leo #she lives! for now #part two coming later this week probably #somno #non con #mind the warnings!!

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stuckinapril · 4 months

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There will not be a single moment next week in which I’m not running around doing something

#full time studying / volunteering at the refugee center / volunteering at two clinics #literally ab to have a meeting ab shadowing a doctor who’s researching ftd dementia in like 50 minutes #organic chemistry research 5 days a week bc ur bitch is trying to get published #hitting the gym 6 days a week. I’ll probably have to move it to mornings soon #meal prep #trying to snag a lowkey part time job #trying to read 30 minutes before bed #somehow have 2 fit a social life into this #I’m excited bc I finally feel like my time budgeting abilities are being put to the test BUT holy fuck .#studying will be my no 1 priority always. literally catch me doing anki cards in any pocket of free time I have #but I better live up to the challenge of juggling everything else too #ik I got this. and these are all things im choosing to do. not things I have to do #and I love being busy so it’ll be so fun #just had to be in awe for a second bc I used to admire girls who’re like this. and I am officially about to be one of them #p

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puppyeared · 6 months

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its so hard to watch time pass when things like careers and assignments exist. what do you mean im supposed to take that seriously

#I have an assignment that was due a week ago and I really really dont want to do it. I have to but i dont want to #im probably making it worse because my brain has built a wall around it so now i can’t do literally anything else until thats done. but #because I don’t want to do it I’m just kinda stuck. turns out this is what they meant when they said emotional regulation is part of #exec dysfunction.. I’ll have a thought like if I get a little bit of it done now i can get it over with. I can just submit something #and then not even 5 minutes later itll be like ugh but I have to draw all the assets out. I have to write things and make spreads ugh #and its just flopping between those two things. i hate it when ppl are like well how much time do you need to work on one thing #because BOY id love to know too. I’d love to know exactly when my brain wants to cooperate with me and work around that but I cant #even my period can’t decide when it wants to punch me in the stomach. which is kinda funny in the grand scheme of things but still #its so weird im just lying on my bed thinking abt all this like damn.. the time will pass anyways no matter what I decide to do.. damn….#if I submit that assignment now and take the L I literally won’t die. it’ll just be a deduction on an assignment nobody will ask me about #I know this but I’m still stressing myself about it so my thoughts aren’t really connecting to my body. weird #maybe its because Im having a hard time looking forward to things. theres definitely a lot I should be living for but I don’t really feel #a strong attachment to it I guess? it’s been like this for a while with holidays and meeting with friends so I just don’t #I kinda figured its because im pretty passionless and its more like passing interest. but it’s not very fun when it feels like I’m going to #be living distraction to distraction for the next 70 years or so lol #idk it kind of feels like slowly bleeding out. which is funny because I actually did experience blood loss this week #had a 30 minute nosebleed and literally could not stand. also it felt like someone was pinching the back of my brain which was interesting #yapping #does this count as vent #vent #Ive just been making an oc carrd and contemplate changing my blog header for the past 3 days honestly

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moeblob · 2 months

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I am really tired of a situation rn.

#fe three houses #felix hugo fraldarius #me using felix on my angy days because he is my angersona? you bet!#anyway if you want to try to get someones money or something bc you hurt your own car banging into mine #can you try to be a bit more timely with it buddy come on you hit me on feb29 !#why am i getting your insurance company calling me today !#also i would like to point out i didnt do it and neither of us were hurt and i filed a claim with my own insurance comp #and also filed a police report bc he didnt even suggest calling the cops to the scene #so like yeah hey man maybe you and your insurance company can move a lil faster or smth #literally everything that happened the day of is - according to my dad - an intimidation tactic #i look like im 15 and he probably thinks he can take advantage of a new driver but ya know! tough luck!#im just really tired and stressed over multiple things not negative so getting this on top of it was like #bro .................... anyway my phone didnt pick up for some reason so i called back and then nothing got resolved #cause the person who actually called me wasnt around to connect the line to from the guy who answered #idk man just its a lot despite my v minimal energy #got a job interview on monday tho ! and then also next week is an eye exam #and you might be thinking isnt that a good thing to get your eyes checked? you are correct but i am horrified #there are two body parts that give me absolute anxiety and eyes are one of them #and i know my eye sight is declining and im just v anxious #its fine im going to be fine i just have to be anxious about it

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osamusriceballs · 3 months

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The Accident - Part XVII

Atsumu x fem reader

Warnings: Making out

Words: 1,5 k

About: Back to Onigiri Miya <3

Part I II -> Next Part

"Finally. Took ya long enough."

Osamu rolls his eyes when you both enter the shop. You apologetically smile and wave while uttering a greeting. "Hey, Osamu. Sorry for being late." Atsumu grins widely, simply ignoring Osamu's comment while you both move to the counter, where Osamu is working. You notice that he looks a bit tired after moving closer, the bags under his eyes proof that he probably only slept a few hours before he had to open up the shop again. Yet, he still professionally forms Onigiri with his hands, everything looking as flawless and clean as the last time you had been there.

Osamu finally looks up to you both when you reach him and suddenly raises his brows when he sees how tightly your hand is held by Atsumu's. His mouth opens slightly, as if to comment on it, but he closes it silently without saying anything before he diverts his attention back to the Onigiri in his hands, now with a small smile adorning his lips. Your face warms up and you mentally thank every deity for making Osamu the more tactful and considerate twin. You're quite certain that Atsumu would have commented on that, if he had been in Osamu's place. Such a tease.

You clear your throat and let go of Atsumu's hand, but his grip around yours is so tight that it doesn't make any visible difference. "Samu, I'm starvin'—could eat the whole menu today. Gimme that please." Atsumu points towards the filled plate in front of Osamu, who just groans as a response and rolls his eyes. "Yer only here for five seconds and I already wanna kick ya out."

You blink in surprise when Osamu simply pushes the plate towards Atsumu and then turns around to open the fridge. "I prepared somethin' for ya. Take it before I change my mind." He hands you another plate with dishes that you remember from the last time you had been there, and you hastily pull your hand out of Atsumu's death grip to take it. "That's—amazing! Thank you." Your stomach clenches at the sight of the food, and you become painfully aware of the fact that you haven't eaten anything since last night, and it's around 4 pm at this point.

"I'll make sure to tag ya in an Instagram post, Samu." Atsumu grins and places one hand at the small of your back to direct you towards a free table. "Here." He quickly places his plate on the table and moves back to the counter. "I'll get us something to drink." You smile and nod while you try to calm yourself down. Your heart starts beating faster when you think about what has just happened with him in his apartment. How he had kissed you and held you. How he was laying on top of you and grinding against you- so needily and desperate. How your hands had been buried into his hair, desperate for him to deepen the kiss—and he did.

But it all came to an end when you had moaned against his lips, the sound so breathless and lewd that your eyes shot open—and he pulled away with a curse. "God, y/n. I can't—we shouldn't—gosh, fuck. I want you so badly." You could see his clenched jaw, his flushed cheeks, and feel the hardness in his pants without a doubt. You knew he wants to go further- but the wetness between your legs was also evidence of how much you wanted him, and you were quite certain that he could feel your warmth and wetness through his pants at this point. But you knew it's not right. Not now, not so shortly after all that.

You had taken a deep breath and then untangled your legs around his body. "It's probably for the best if we stop right now." You smiled a bit strained, your body wanting nothing more but to stay here forever and let him have his way with you, but your mind told you to slow down. You didn't want to ruin this by starting something like this too soon. He had simply nodded but still leaned down to press a longing kiss against your lips. You had melted into the feeling of his lips against yours and reached out for him, only to have him grab your wrists a little clumsily while he pulled back from the kiss and pinned your hands to the bed. Your eyes widened at your vulnerable position under him—and a throb of need rushed through your body.

His eyebrows shot up and his lips curled into a smug grin at your reaction. "Oh? Ya like that? Seems like we're in for a good time then." You swore you could have exploded any second, especially if he kept looking at you like that, and you simply released a shallow huff at his words. "Yer really testin' me here, wifey." He closed his eyes for a second and then pulled back. "Imma take a quick shower and then we can grab somethin' to eat at Samu's. Is that alright with ya?" You had simply nodded, too flustered to form words, and he pecked your cheek one last time before he headed to the bathroom.

After that, you wobbly made it to the other bathroom, quickly washing your face and getting dressed again, trying to distract yourself from the fact that you were this close to giving in and begging him to sleep with you. You have never felt like this with someone else; Atsumu just elicits feelings and actions from your body that you would never have thought were possible. He's a great kisser, and judging from the way he had been grinding his hips against yours, you were quite certain that he will be equally as good in bed. Your face had heated up again at the thought of sleeping with him, and you had quickly grabbed your stuff and go back to the bedroom. You both quickly took your things and made your way towards Onigiri Miya, but not without making out heavily in the elevator.

"Here ya go." Atsumu places two drinks on the table, and you get pulled out of your thoughts. You try to look calm and composed with a smile and thank him while he takes his seat, shortly admiring him in his simple, yet very attractive outfit. A white shirt and a pair of jeans—nothing special, but when Atsumu wears it, it just looks that appealing.

"Don't worry, these are alcohol-free. I'll stop drinking for a while for sure." He scratches the back of his head bashfully, and you laugh softly. "I figured so. But aren't you training like crazy now? Isn't it bad for you to drink anyway?"

A faint pink hue covers his cheeks at your words. "True that. I'm gonna stay away from alcohol for a long time." He shakes his head and then looks away. "Can't believe it's just a few more weeks till the Olympics. Time is running but- oh, let's start with the food already. Can't wait any longer, I'm sorry." He takes an Onigiri off his plate and eagerly digs in, and you're quick to join him, amused by his cute expression while he's chewing. He must have been starving for sure.

"I feel so much better already." He grins, and you nod while you eat a spoonful of your meal, enjoying the taste of fried rice. "Me too. I love Osamu's food." Atsumu nods and pretends to think for a second and then smugly grins. "Seems like yer fallin' for all the Miya's. We're a talented family after all."

"I'm not falling for all the Miyas!" You weakly protest, but the food could definitely make you consider Osamu as a possible partner. "Just kiddin'." He chuckles but suddenly yawns while he reaches for another Onigiri. "I'll drive ya home after that. I'm way too tired for anything more." He does look exhausted now. You don't know how he manages to even hold a proper conversation in his state, his eyes closing every few seconds before he almost violently pulls them open again.

"That's okay." You smile sympathetically and reach for your drink. He got your favorite, and you feel a sudden warmth running though your body at this realization. "I'm also exhausted after last night. But uhm..." You hesitantly fish for your phone and unlock it. "Do you maybe want to give me your new number?" You feel a faint blush creeping up your cheeks, but you're too afraid that you'll forget about it later- especially when he can barely keep his eyes open. "Oh? Sure." His eyes light up, and he quickly wipes his fingers on his tissue before he takes your phone. "Here ya go. I'll make sure to text ya every day."

"You don't have to text me every day." You snort but smile at the thought of always waking up to messages of Atsumu. "I will. Don't worry." Something about the way he says that makes you believe him, and break the intense eye contact when you take the phone with slightly shaky hands and look at the screen.

There it is, your new contact:

Husband

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cheeriecherrymain · 11 months

Text

Your Room [Viktor x fem!Reader][Part 1/2]

Pairing: Viktor x fem!Reader Rating: E (18+) Chapter Content: fingering | Viktor has a filthy mouth | he calls you a whore (affectionately) | sexy stuff in a semi-public setting (but you guys are alone) | dirty talk (kind of) Proofread: not a chance in hell

---

You’ve known Viktor for a couple of months now: almost an entire year, if you were to be specific. And in that period of time, you’ve learned three main things about him.

Firstly, his intelligence isn’t just limited to the subjects of science and machinery. His entire thought process is as quick as a whip, in every aspect of his life. At times it almost seemed like his mind was on fast forward, moving at a pace that the rest of the physical world couldn’t keep up with.

As such, his sense of humour is startling. As proper and calm as he appeared on the outside, he was often capable of making deadpan quips that would have your sides aching in seconds.

No one could make you laugh the way he did.

Secondly, you’ve learned that despite his ability to logic his way out of any situation, Viktor was a deeply emotional man. You’d had your doubts at first - never being able to get him to emote beyond a slight frown or smile, in the beginning.

But the more you’d gotten to know him, the more you’d realized that yes, he really did have feelings. And a lot of them, at that.

He was just guarded when it came to matters of his heart, and for good reason. Growing up as a lonesome boy in the Undercity couldn’t have been easy for him, so you’re not really surprised that he’d come up with all kinds of ways to protect himself.

But you’ve always been a patient woman.

You’d taken your time getting to know him, listening intently when he spoke to you and asking questions all throughout. You’d opened up to him about your own life, about your desires and fears - showing him that not only did you enjoy the things he had to say, but you also trusted him with your own issues.

And, like you had desperately hoped, he’d eventually begun to trust you in return.

Which leads to the third thing you’ve learned about Viktor.

For all his skills and capabilities, and his attention to detail when he works, he is…not a subtle man.

He knows his way around technology better than anyone you’ve ever met, and he’s an above average partner for conversation. He’s insightful and clever, and kind, and funny, and…

…and he lacks so much tact, that at first you’d thought he was doing it on purpose.

Perhaps the shirt you’d been wearing that day had been too low cut, and he’d been to awkward to say anything about it. Maybe he’d liked the colour you’d chosen, and hadn’t known how to compliment you. But whatever the reason, you’d noticed him, on multiple occasions now, unabashedly staring at your chest.

The first time it had happened, you thought maybe he was trying to make some kind of point to you. Something about dressing appropriately for the lab, yadda yadda. But he’d never made any kind of silent acknowledgement to you - as if he wasn’t even aware of the fact that you’d caught him ogling you.

As if he wasn’t even aware of the fact that he was doing it.

And you…aren’t sure what to feel about it.

On one hand, if you pulled him aside and spoke to him about it, you’re fairly certain he’d combust in some aspect. At the very least, he’d be embarrassed about his actions, and would avoid you to an extent: at the worst, he’d end up having some kind of internal crisis which would undoubtedly lead to your entire friendship falling apart.

Neither of which you wanted.

On the other hand, you’re not sure you mind the way his attention always seems to fall to you.

You’d never seen him act in such a way with anyone else, even with the people you yourself would consider pretty. He’s professional, and keeps most others at a distance, and…honestly, it makes you feel special. It makes you feel desirable.

Which has raised the question: what do you want from him?

Were you happy to be the apparent recipient of his attraction?

Or did you want more?

Did you want to go on dates with him? Did you want to fall asleep next to him, and wake up with his hair in your face and his arms around your waist? Did you want to traipse into the lab without so much as a warning, and kiss him good morning? Did you want to hold his hand as you wandered around together? Relax with him in the bath after a long day, tenderly soaping him up as you dig your thumbs into the many knots all over his back, letting your hands wander across his skin-

You take a deep breath, and pull yourself away from the thought before you get too carried away. It’s strikingly obvious what you want, now that you think about it.

Now you just needed to figure out how to approach him.

—

You wander into the lab the next morning with your bag slung over your shoulders, and a tray of coffee in your hands. It’s later than you’d usually show up to work, but given the fact that you’d brought some much needed treats, your friends let it slide.

Jayce wastes no time in fixing himself a cup, briefly squeezing your shoulder in thanks before heading back to his desk.

Viktor, on the other hand, remains seated. Engrossed in whatever he’s working on, you’re fairly certain he hasn’t even noticed your entrance. It would sting a little, were you not already used to such a behaviour.

It also means he hasn’t noticed the clothing you’d decided to wear that day.

You bite back a smirk as you prepare a cup for him, dropping in an obscene amount of sugar and a dash of cream. You’d decided to go with the blouse he’d first ogled you in - it’s gotten a little tight over the past couple months, but that, in your opinion, only serves as better bait.

It hugs your form better than it had before, and had made it so you’d had to leave the top couple buttons undone. Paired with the fitted skirt you’d chosen, and the gartered stockings that peeked out from beneath, your entire ensemble was perfect for showing off your figure.

Entirely unprofessional, you’re aware, but necessary.

“You should take a break,” you say sweetly, as you set the cup of coffee down on Viktor’s desk. You make sure to lean well into his field of vision, with the excuse of making sure the beverage is away from the edge of the table, but you can feel the effects of your actions immediately.

His gaze, darting up from his work to look at what you’ve gifted him, only to trail over your body in the most obliviously lecherous way possible.

“I- hm?” he replies smartly, blinking out of his momentary stupor.

You bite back a laugh.

“I said you should take a break,” you reiterate. “You’re so focused, I don’t doubt you’ve already been sitting here for a couple hours. You should give your eyes a rest, and have something to eat.”

He makes a noncommittal noise, and slouches back in his seat.

“I’m almost finished,” he tells you, though you hardly believe him.

You carefully set your hands on the arms of his chair, leaning forward so that you’re at eye level with him and can fix him with a disapproving pout. He swallows hard, and at such a proximity, you can see the way his pupils widen - hear the way his breath comes in short draws, as you lock your gaze with his.

“Take a break,” you say again, and this time, he nods in agreement.

—

You continue like that throughout the day. Touching and teasing him in ways that would seem innocent to any onlookers - a hand on the shoulder, your lips by his ear, or your chin on his shoulder while you watch him explain something to you.

But each time you find yourself in his personal space, you can feel his resolve slipping. He’s realized by now what you’re doing, and he knows that you know. But he’s yet to say anything about it.

It’s maybe a little bit selfish of you, but you want to see him crumble, and you mean it in the kindest and most loving way possible. You want his stubbornness to be washed away by desperation - you want him to be incapable of resisting you.

It takes most of the day, but eventually you make it to that point.

Eventually, after Jayce bids goodnight to the two of you and the room is cast into silence.

You lean quietly against the edge of his desk, affectionately watching him while he tries in vain to ignore your eyes on him, attempting to finish his work.

“Viktor,” you murmur.

His hands tighten around the tools he’s holding.

“What are you doing?” he sighs. Finally addressing the tension.

Slowly, oh so slowly, you reach towards him. Sliding your fingers tenderly along his jaw, reveling in the way his pulse thumps quicker the moment your skin makes contact. You carefully tilt his face towards you, drawing his attention away from the trinket laying in front of him.

And guilt immediately flickers in your stomach, the moment you see how he’s looking at you.

Wholeheartedly, entirely, and terribly frustrated.

You stroke your thumb over the curve of his cheek, watching as the prettiest shade of pink begins to rise in your wake.

“I’m trying to get your attention,” you gently tell him. “You’ve been staring at me for weeks, and you haven’t done anything about it.”

Worry rises up in your throat, the longer the silence lasts between you. Fear. You’d been absolutely certain that he’d been showing an interest in you, in a way he did with no one else. But what if you’d been wrong? What if you’d completely misinterpreted his actions, and had now made a complete and utter fool out of yourself-

The soft press of lips against your palm draws you out of your spiral.

Viktor’s lips, specifically, his breath warm on the hand you’d laid upon him.

“I had hoped you wouldn’t notice,” he mumbles, swiveling in his chair to face you. “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, or make myself appear rude or…unsafe. I had hoped that admiring you from a distance would work well enough, and that our friendship would be able to continue unchanged.”

You scoot closer to him, until you’re all but sitting in his lap.

“Why would things change?” you wonder, letting your cheek come to rest against his shoulder. “We’ll still always be friends - just now with the added benefit of…you know. Romance.”

You lay a kiss to the pulse point on his throat, smirking at the way it jumps beneath your touch.

“Among other things,” you tack on.

Slender arms snake around your waist, then, pulling you impossibly closer. Until you’re pressed firmly against his body, with your legs spread and hooked over the armrests of the chair. You can feel the way your skirt has ridden up, revealing more skin than you’d intended, though Viktor hardly seems to mind.

Once you’re resting comfortably against him, his hands begin to wander. Slowly walking his fingers down your body - pressing into the curve of your hips, and dipping over the exposed meat of your ass.

You know he can feel the way you shiver when he touches you, if the self-satisfied smirk he wears is anything to go by.

“Other things,” he huffs, sliding a single finger beneath the band of one stocking. He keeps it there for a couple seconds, sliding around to the back of your thigh, where he pulls away and draws the elastic taut.

“Is that what you came here for, today?” he asks, feigning innocence. “Did you dress up all pretty, hoping I’d bend you over my desk and have my way with you?”

His breath is hot on the soft skin of your neck, until he digs his teeth in.

And lets your stocking snap sharply back into place.

“Viktor,” you whine, squirming in his lap.

“Poor thing,” he murmurs, as he dips a hand between your legs, stroking the pad of one finger along the obvious damp spot on your panties. “You’ve been throwing yourself at me all afternoon, like some kind of common whore.”

You whimper, when he pushes the wet fabric to the side and immediately starts drawing lazy circles on your clit, already slick with desire.

“Even now, spreading yourself open for me, in a place where anyone could walk in. I bet you’d let me fuck you like this, wouldn’t you? You’d let me use your slutty little cunt however I pleased, and you wouldn’t even care if you made a mess - you’d let me stretch you open and fill you until I’m satisfied.”

You’re humiliated by how quickly he manages to bring you to the edge. Sliding two slender fingers into your dripping hole, he curls them and spreads them so perfectly within you, grinding the heel of his palm against your puffy clit all the while.

“Would you like that?” he wonders, though it’s hardly a question. “Ridiculous - of course you would. You’re already dripping all over my hand, and clenching around my fingers. Are you really about to come? Even though I’ve barely touched you?”

You nearly sob as he continues to work you closer and closer to the edge, crying out in desperation when he slides another digit in with the first two. You don’t think you’ve ever been spread so wide by someone’s fingers before, the stretch burning in the most delicious way.

Closer and closer, your orgasm approaches, your breath coming in short gasps as you tremble bonelessly against him.

“Please,” you whine, nearly begging. The obscene squelch of your dripping pussy echoing through the room.

“Please what?” he teases. “Please take my fingers out? Is three too much for your poor little cunt? Or please give you another one?”

You wail when he stills his hand.

“Please let me come,” you sob, your voice catching in your throat. “Viktor- I want to come- please-”

Blessedly, deliciously, he slips a fourth finger in, and begins his ministrations anew.

“Look at you,” he sighs, almost dreamily. “You’d look so perfect split open on my cock. I know you’d be able to take it - you can take most of my hand, after all. But it would be tight.”

You nod along with him, barely able to form a coherent thought, orgasm so close you can practically taste it.

And then, like a monster, he stops.

“No- no no no don’t stop-” you cry, rolling your hips in an attempt to grind down on his fingers, only for him to pull them out of you completely, leaving your hole empty and clenching around nothing.

“I’m not fucking you in here. And I’m not letting you come until I’ve filled you up,” he says plainly, and the statement alone makes you want to start weeping. However, he tilts his face down towards yours, nudging his nose against you until you find the will to stare sadly up at him.

Your eyes meet, and you’re entirely started by the sheer desire that shines within his pretty, honeyed gaze.

“Unless you want this to be a one-time thing,” he says, his words catching briefly, as if the thought itself pains him. “If you don’t want…more…then I’ll let you come now, on my fingers, and there will be no hard feelings. Our friendship will remain unchanged, and we’ll never speak of this again.”

You frown slightly at the idea.

“But if you do want more from this,” he continues, “If you do want a relationship, if you want to be mine…then come back to my room with me. Let me take my time with you, let me feel you, let me bring you pleasure in every way I know how - my fingers, my mouth. Let me love you.”

You don’t bother with a verbal answer, choosing to instead bring your lips to his in a hurried frenzy. Your breath mixing, his tongue sliding tentatively against yours, until your chest is so full you’re gasping for air, knitting your hand in his hair to briefly pull him away from you.

Even so, he tries to chase you.

You stare at each other for a couple seconds, chests rising and falling as you calm yourselves and gather your wits.

And then, sweetly, you ask your question.

“Where’s your room?”

#viktor x reader #viktor arcane x reader #arcane x reader #part two sometime this week probably

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