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5eraphim · 1 year

Note

on my knees desperate for heavy smut i beg i beg i need to be manhandled by him

Ok, for this one I wanted to try something a little different, so this one isn’t exactly canon compliant. Hear me out though- So Imagine a scenario where instead of Heavy’s mother and sisters isolated in a cabin in the wilderness, what if they were sent to safer land, something like a communal living safehaven and Heavy is the one stuck fending for himself in the Russian wilderness. Also, this wound up far less "aggressive" than you might have wanted, he's not nearly as brutal as he could be- so I apologize for dropping the ball there-

Summary: Reader is a traveler seeking shelter after getting lost in a storm, and as night swiftly approaches is almost certain she won’t live to make it through the night. Risking it all, she strays from the path home after seeing another's home in the distance, praying whoever lived there would provide shelter for the night. Her prayers are answered when she's seen and brought in from the cold, but now in the abode of this new guardian angel. And the fear of death becomes the fear of something much less certain.

Character: Heavy 🐻 (Team Fortress 2)

Rating: X (MINORS DNI)

Content Warnings: hurt/comfort, forced intimacy, dubcon, yandere, canon divergence, thigh ridding, unhealthy relationship, handjob

Word Count:

Master List

Tip Jar

(Song Insp)

"Is this where I die?"

The one thought you tried so hard to keep in the back of your mind now pestered you more than ever. You had no idea how long you'd been wandering alone or when exactly you strayed from your predetermined path, but you knew you were unquestionably lost. Not strayed, you made sure to stay on the trail, but at some point, you got turned around and were completely thrown off your bearings. It wasn't yet nightfall, but the shadows brought by twilight were already stretching into nightmarish figures shifting and following you out of the corners of your eye. By now, you felt as though there was nothing left to protect you from certain death but the dwindling light of your lantern. A pitifully weak beacon of light, you held as tightly as you could in your numb, trembling hand.

Earlier that morning, when you set out on your trading expedition, you knew it was dangerous to travel through unknown territory alone, even more so with the rumors of an oncoming storm were true. If only you listened while you had the chance. Your father, who earlier that week came down with a terrible fever which showed no signs of letting up any time soon. While your family wasn't one of high birth or wealth, his job was vital all the same, and if he wasn't there to transport his goods to the trading post by the end of the day, his reputation as a merchant would be tarnished forever. As the eldest in your family, you knew risking going out at a time like this could kill or otherwise send your father out of commission, so you volunteered to transport the goods yourself.

It was a choice between his weakened condition and your lack of experience, a tough gamble, but eventually, you were granted permission to strike out on your own and deliver the goods. The mission was successful, but the route back began the real challenge.

The snow fell much heavier and sooner than anticipated, blocking out crucial sunshine and diminishing visibility with a stinging swill. The path you thought you knew scrambled beyond recognition. You move as fast as possible while trying to conserve as much energy as possible. Still, once the panic set in, you could not focus, navigate or think rationally. Things were going from bad to worse with no clear end in sight.

"Why am I still moving? It's only a matter of time."

Time felt as though it were standing. Still, you were sure by now your mind had long since begun to give way to delirium, and there was no hope of living through the night. Without the sun's light to guide you had a bad feeling you were now walking in circles, waiting for exposure to take over. Or perhaps a wild animal attack, whatever it might be, it was all the same for you in the end. The air felt so thin and bitter against the sliver of your face, which peaked out from under your hat and over your scarf. It was almost impossible to breathe, much less to continue walking. Finally, with a final pathetic stagger, you found yourself on your hands and knees, mustering up the last of your strength to keep the lantern upright. For a moment, you just sat there numb and stunned. You'd have broken down in tears if only you still had the strength to cry. But looking up a little, you swore you could see something in the distance. A structure almost totally hidden by the dense trees surrounding you, but you could've sworn you saw smoke rising from a chimney top in the distance. You needed to move, if you didn't get up, you would die, but you were so tired and overwhelmed by agony that you could only hobble a short distance before losing your balance again.

The wind whistled deafeningly overhead. You tried to scream for help but knew no one was close enough to hear. In a matter of hours, you would lose consciousness. In a matter of days, your body would be picked apart by the wild animals of the forest. These were your final moments alive. Mentally you called out for your family, called out to God, with dying breaths begging for someone to save you.

In your last moments of coherency, you could've sworn you saw a figure drawing nearer in the snow, one unmistakable silhouette strikingly clear among the swill and heavy snowflakes which clouded your vision. Before you blacked out, you hardly had time to wonder what was encroaching. In your final moments, you tried to absorb any warmth from the lantern, curling your body around the light in the fetal position, feeling as helpless and scared as an infant, alone in the wilderness.

"Am I dead?"

The world around you was all black, and you were vaguely aware you were still curled up in the fetal position, though you couldn't hear the wind blowing around you as you remembered. No, it wasn't that you couldn't hear the wind blowing, but it sounded so much further away now. You could feel your body shivering involuntarily, your mind too hazy to comprehend much of anything. It was too hard to move, but you managed to control your shivers just enough to consciously begin breathing a bit steadier than before. Taking weak, quivering breaths through your nose while you felt your still-freezing body shiver weakly. Your senses were all numb, but you were subconsciously aware of something so soothingly warm beside you. A tremendous thing you found yourself trying to nestle closer to. Something warm and soft, so comforting and soothing, if you were dead, you must be in heaven now. Never before had you felt such calming warmth or such delicate touch. It took you a moment to realize you were curled next to another human body. You were vaguely aware the other body was breathing, and the sound of another heart beating so close hypnotized you back to slumber like a lullaby.

With a gentle hum, you shifted a little in your sleep, slowly moving your wrists and ankles with circular movements and stretching out your limbs after being tense and rigid for so long. Little by little, you felt your senses returning to you, the dull throbbing of your head, the smell of another person's body so close. The uncomfortable dryness of your mouth and congestion in your nose and throat from so much time spent out in the cold.

Despite your body's pain in protest, you tried to force yourself to sit up a little, only to realize you were held firmly in place by… something? You weren't quite sure where you were or what was happening, but the confusion did nothing to help the dull pain of your headache. Focusing hard, you did your best to open your eyes and understand where you were. Not to say you were in too much pain or anything. You just felt disoriented above all.

With a sickening realization, it fully hit you. The soothing presence you found continuing to lull you back to sleep was the beating of a heart and the slow rise and fall of a chest, your cheek resting against the naked flesh of a man's chest. With a start, you jolted a little, instantly scared of the current situation, only to feel your body firmly in place, two strong arms wrapping around you effortlessly, keeping you as close as possible to their owner.

You tried to say something to protest, but given how dry your mouth was, you could manage nothing more than a weak noise of protest. Struggling, you looked up and were met with the relaxed face of the most massive man you'd ever seen. His eyes were closed, but his strong features and heavy arms caused you to freeze up instantly. Looking around, you realized you weren't home in your own warm bed as you thought, but in the bed of a stranger, or rather, in bed with a stranger.

A fire burned in the corner, a silver kettle and tall pot on an antique stove, bearskins piled on the floors, and the curtains were drawn over the windows, but you could feel your skin crawling hearing the whistling winds blow outside. You could smell the spice of tea and something bubbling in a pot over the oven. All things considered, the scene around you was pretty cozy and charming, but given the circumstances, you were far from at ease.

The fear of the situation caused fresh goosebumps of fear to prickle along the length of your skin as you couldn't help but try to push yourself away again. Of course, your body was unbearably sore from all you'd endured, but still, you were too scared to stay still, though the feeling of one of the plump arms tightening around your body caused you to squeak in fear before forcing yourself to remain still.

"Stay still. Your body it's warming up. Stay longer."

You didn't say anything but nodded. His eyes were half-lid as he stared at you.s feeling somewhat suffocated in your current position. It was too intimidating to look the stranger directly in his eyes, so you kept your gaze fixed squarely on your hands as you rubbed them together, as though to buffer away the memories of the awful stinging you felt moments ago when the coldness overreached the wool of your mittens, leaving you frozen to the bone.

You wanted to speak and say something, but this was all so overwhelming, and you were too scared to say the wrong thing. Doing anything which might incur the wrath of your "savior" and once again returning to the awful cold and darkness outside.

"Tea is warming. Will you drink?"

It wasn't wise to say yes, but better to accept any offerings he had rather than have him force you to oblige. You nodded but couldn't help but ask,

"Who?"

Was the best you could manage to ask. Hearing your voice made you realize how hoarse and weak you sounded. He looked down, somewhat surprised to hear your voice.

"I am called Heavy."

"How did you…."

You trailed off, but the question was understood. It was dangerous to ask your "benefactor" how you got here or say anything to provoke ire and risk being cast out again, but thankfully he merely nodded.

"I saw your lantern light. You fell. I took you here. You've slept hours."

It terrified you to think about what would have happened if you'd lost your lantern earlier or if it burnt out before you could be saved. It was a miracle you were alive. The thought of every terrible thing that could've happened to you caused tears to brim as your mind was filled with visions of your cold, lifeless body torn apart by wild animals or your blue-frostbitten body being blown about endlessly in the snow. So many miserable ways to go, and you were alive now, but why were you still so scared?

"Don't cry- you are safe now. Heavy will protect you."

You didn't do anything to stop the older man when his massive hand found your chin, tilting your head up so he could entirely focus on your lips. Nor did you so much as flinch at the feeling of his face making contact with your own. He was shy, a bit stiff, but warm. Despite his initial silence, you could hear him humming softly against your mouth, and from your place resting on his chest, feel his breath in his lungs as he nuzzled his face closer to yours.

"Still too cold. Skin to skin will warm you up faster."

Nodding feebly, you realized with discomfort that you had been stripped of your clothes from earlier that day. You weren't too broken up about this. However, the idea of putting on those soaking wet, frozen clothes back on made your stomach churn. You tried to keep your fear under wraps as you felt the stranger running his hands over your bareback.

"It's ok, just relax, let me warm you, little one."

Swallowing your nerves, you felt his hand on your bareback under the blanket, his fingers smoothing against your soft skin, gently ushering your naked body to lay against his. You must've fallen asleep on his chest, your sleeping body wanting to crawl as close as you could to the hypnotic warmth of his body. With a few deep breaths, you allowed your arms to slither away and felt the admittedly pleasurable sensation of skin-to-skin contact. He had the body of a beast yet moved gently against you, but you knew the moment you tested him or tried to resist, he would show you his real might. You lay bare-chest-to-bare-chest against Heavy, resting your head against his chest.

"I can move to the side if I'm too heavy for you- I wouldn't mind, really, I'm not that cold anymore-"

He laughed heartily at your protest, running his hand up your thigh to rest comfortably on your ass, giving the flesh a gentle squeeze in mock assurance.

"You are nothing! The weight is good. Too long now, I've been alone. Prayed for companionship, and now you are here. You will not be leaving again."

He spoke with such a light-hearted voice, but his words still chilled you, and you didn't like his implication. Kissing the top of your head, he hummed lowly as you felt the reverberations deep in his chest. You didn't know the melody but were sure you'd heard the song somewhere.

"Kiss again?"

You could've sworn you could feel the slight increase in his heartbeat, as though simply holding you in his arms and a shy peck on the lips was enough to excite him. His hand left your back to find your jaw again, though he took a moment to stroke the side of your face, feeling the pulpy skin of your cheek under his calloused fingertips.

"I've been alone for so long- too long. I pray to God to send company, and tonight, I bring home an angel."

He kissed the top of your head sweetly, and your breath hitched as you felt him sitting up in bed, effortlessly pulling you to sit on his lap. Both his hands resting on your waist, looking down lovingly at your flushed skin and bare tits, you could feel he grew aroused quickly and would only remain so gentle for so long. He pushed you up a little to meet his lips with your own, shyly suckling at your bottom lip, wanting to pull you closer and closer. You used his broad shoulders to keep yourself balanced, hesitantly returning the kiss, having no idea what the man had planned for you next.

"H-heavy, will you please tell me where I am?"

"We are home."

He was about to press his lips to yours again, but you pulled away, just a little, but enough for him to hesitate, his eyes flicking up to meet yours. While Heavy was irritated by the delay, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of pity for you. He wanted to hold you close, kiss you, and show you how safe you were under his roof, but he understood why you were too shaken to give in. He wanted to help you relax. Clearly, you were timid, not ready for such close intimacy in bed.

"Tea is still hot, I'll get it for you."

Nodding in response, Heavy allowed you to slide away, giving him space to get out of the bed to the kitchen, leaving you in a nest of blankets, noticing the absence of his body heat immediately. You couldn't help but watch with slight paranoia as you stared at him intensely while he fixed the drinks.

"No sugar rations left. Can you drink it black?"

"Black is good."

When he returned to the bed, he held two mugs of steaming tea in one hand, holding something in the other you couldn't quite make out. You sat on the edge of the bed to take one of the cups in your hands as he set the other on the bedside table. In his other hand, he revealed an old-looking little glass bottle labeled in a worn print you couldn't quite make out.

"Medicine for your head. You'll need it."

Hesitantly you accepted as he handed you the bottle. It looked legitimate and, from an outside perspective, looked exactly how you'd expect cold medicine to look. You knew the bottle being unsealed was a major red flag, but other than that, it appeared precisely how cold medicine should be. He watched you, clearly not going anywhere until you took your medicine.

"Just a few sips. It's strong."

Your mouth felt dry, and the longer you looked at the little bottle, the more confident you were something was wrong. Still, despite your better judgment, you raised the bottle to your lips, letting the thick elixir pour into your mouth as you forced yourself to swallow quickly before the taste made you hesitate. After successfully doing a decent amount, you only realized the taste was much sweeter than expected. But artificially so, in a way that made your teeth hurt. Satisfied, Heavy took the bottle back, patting your head with his chubby palm.

"There is hot water for a bath. I'll draw one now."

You lay back, sipping a bit at the bitter tea to help wash the sickeningly sweet taste of the medicine out of your mouth. You let your eyes drift shut, feeling the drug begin to kick in. The pain in your head easing away into a lighter, becoming more bearable, and if not for Heavy returning to your side to let you know the bath was drawn, you could've quickly fallen asleep right there.

Guiding you by the hand, you walked with a slight unsteadiness, swaying, needing to support yourself against Heavy even at such a slow pace, especially up the stairs. Eventually, he led you through the open door into the bathroom, where he shut the door behind him. Instantly putting you back on edge, not exactly understanding why he decided to step into the bathroom with you, the feeling intensifying when he pulled off his shirt.

"I think I can take it from here. Thank you for this, but I-"

"No. I will stay."

You flushed slightly at his resolution and how unbothered he appeared now, standing topless before you.

"Oh! I'm, I'm so sorry, it's just… I'm not sure how I feel about, uh, this? I can wash by myself. No need for you to worry about me!"

You had a bad feeling about this, and you could already tell by how intently Heavy looked down at you there was no way you could talk your way out of this. You reasoned with yourself that it'd be safer to appease him this way than trying to refuse the bath and invoke his wrath. Your discomfort was hardly softened with this rationalizing. For some reason, though, you had trouble imagining Heavy hurting you. He was intimidating; anyone could see that, but the way he touched you so gently.

It was hard to undress in front of him, but he had an undeniable charming innocence. Something about how he wasn't awkward or flustered helping you out of his clothes, like he didn't look at you with lust but with a pure desire to help.

The bath felt instantly soothing, and you were thankful for Heavy's hold on you as he gently lowered your body into the hot water. You were so sore from what happened the night before that you couldn't help but sigh, sinking into the tub. The hot water felt so comforting, easily more soothing than anything you'd felt before. However, it was hard to fully let go of your modesty, and you couldn't help but curl into a ball, trying to hide as much of your body as you could.

It took quite a while before you truly relaxed and let the larger man soothe your body. You were simply too tired to feel insecure anymore. The longer Heavy stayed by your side, leaning over the side of the tub, warming his hands with the bathwater, rubbing little patterns into your skin. Eventually you uncurled yourself from the fetus position, leaning back and resting your head against the outer lip of the tub. The water felt so much better once you allowed the tension to leave your body.

As unsettling as the situation might've been, you couldn't help but feel so protected under the stranger's care. He was bigger than anyone you'd known before but only touched you gently, the caresses loving and tender but with an element of restraint, as though he feared you would shatter under his touch if he weren't careful.

Once again, you felt yourself drifting off, knowing Heavy wouldn't let you drown. Sure enough, when he noticed the way you were falling back asleep, he spoke softly to you.

"Back to bed with you."

You were helped out of the tub, your legs unable to support your weight. You allowed Heavy to support your entire weight as he pulled you up, trying not to get distracted by the feeling of your body so hot and sensitive against his bare skin. He wrapped a towel around your body, carrying you back to bed. Your body limp and sore, your mind drifting through a haze. You felt Heavy tuck you into bed, pulling the damp towel from your body before pulling the covers over your body, kissing your forehead before pulling away to get into bed himself. Heavy undid his pants, stepping out, he left them in a heap on the floor before crawling up beside you, shuddering slightly at the feeling of your bare skin up against his, especially when you mindlessly curled closer to his body.

For what felt like hours, you could feel your body drifting in and out of sleep, unable to fall asleep in the foreign place. Not to say you were uncomfortable, just restless given such a radical change. In a dreamlike state, you could feel the warmth of another body beside you, a body almost hypnotically warm. You felt as though you couldn't help but want to draw closer. The stranger's body was massive, and the bare flesh felt comforting. You rolled onto your side, sliding one leg around his as you curled closer, wrapping your arms around his forearm. His was so large you felt like you could spoon it. You nuzzled against him, running the side of your face up and down with complete bliss. Burrowing your face into the side of his body, unaware of how intently he watched above. He dared not try to move the arm you were clinging onto to push you closer for fear of waking you up. But the moment he felt your lower body grinding against his, he knew he couldn't remain still any longer.

He tried to be strong. He really did. But after being in isolation for so long, even the tiniest provocation from you turned him on. He grit his teeth, breathing through his nose, and he could not stop the growing arousal between his legs. It was so wrong, you weren't aware of what you were doing, and to take advantage of you now would mare his conscience forever, but you made him feel so weak and so virile at the same time. He knew he wasn't strong enough to endure the temptation, mentally praying for forgiveness for what he was about to do.

He pulled your body from laying on its side to an upright position without breaking the contact between your hips and his thigh, supporting the weight of your body with no trouble at all. Just the feeling of your hips sliding from the side to the top of his leg sent a shiver of pleasure down his spine. While you might not have been entirely of sound mind, you were awake enough to keep your head from falling back. Unfortunately, moving you like this caused you to awaken a bit more as your bleary eyes fluttered open. You momentarily looked aware of being upright and, with your dizziness, were almost sure you would fall.

"Be calm. I have you, don't fear."

You felt ashamed realizing what you'd done, but Heavy looked at you with such love. You felt unable to stop grinding. You simply weren't awake enough to understand the situation, likely thinking all this was some erotic dream brought about by the cold medicine and delirium. Heavy was lying down, his upper body propped up a little by the pillows, he couldn't exactly watch your lower body grinding on him, but the sight of your face, in a haze of pleasure, was all he needed. He'd fantasized about something like this before, not even he had the willpower to ignore his carnal desires altogether, but now that he had the real idea before him, the pleasure felt more incredible than ever before. Yet still, he needed more.

You slouched forward a little bit, your hands pushing against his gut to support yourself and roll your hips a little harder than before. All the while, you giggled to yourself, mindlessly pawing against the softness of his gut, giddy and delighted, feeling your fingers sink a little into the thick layer of fat. His chest wasn't too hairy, much smoother than you expected, and his thick skin felt so comforting.

By now, Heavy was sure he was at his limit. He could feel a wetness where you were grinding but watching you mindlessly feeling him up really sent him over the edge. He groaned in frustration as he rolled his hips upward, knowing you were too far away to provide any friction. But still, he didn't want to interrupt your hands against him. But by now, his erection was almost painfully swollen, and he needed release. He, ever so gently, so as not to startle you, took hold of one of your hands, curling it into a fist as he brought it down lower.

You didn't try to stop him. Hell, you were hardly aware of anything, so you didn't tense up or retract your arm when you felt Heavy bringing your hand down to rest over the straining fabric of his boxers. He let out a low moan when he felt your fingers curiously groping at the material, not entirely aware of your actions, not an issue as Heavy took the initiative for you.

Taking your hand on his own, he guided your hand to wrap around his shaft, not yet moving but wrapping his hand tighter around yours, his hand covering yours entirely. Even without moving, Heavy could feel a bit of precum leaking from his tip as he edged painfully close to his release. And with a deep breath, Heavy used his other hand to pull his boxers down. He couldn't help but sigh in relief, finally freeing the sensitive skin from the uncomfortable confines of fabric. Not waiting another moment, he used your hand in his to begin pumping away, using the precum as a lubricant, helping your hand move up and down with no resistance. You lazily ground away against his thigh, squeezing tighter. Despite not being all there, the feeling of the big guy under you moaning in pleasure turned you on.

Heavy knew using you like this was dangerous, it was wrong, and desperate, but all morality was forgotten as he felt more and more desperate the closer he came to his climax. By now, he was bucking his hips against your touch, tightening his hold on your hand to the point of pain. But the pain in your body failed to reach your mind as all you could think about was how good it felt to lay down beside this comforting stranger, feeling so warm and held beside him, everything melting away as you felt him moving your hand. You couldn't move your fingers much in his firm hold, but you knew how hard it was to fully wrap around his shaft, given the size of the thing. Heavy wanted to make the moment last, to make this first risque encounter with you feel genuinely intimate, but he didn't last much longer. The touch of your smaller hand trapped in place as he used you to pleasure himself while you numbly chased your own pleasure. Heavy at last came, his head falling back as he panted and moaned, feeling the strongest orgasm he'd ever known rush over him.

In truth, you weren't sure if you came or not. The delirium of hunger and the sleep-like brain fog made the events that transpired feel like an out-of-body experience. As though you weren't truly in your own body, but were not taken by sleep either, drifting around between the two as you felt another in control. You still get a tingling pleasure lingering between your legs, perhaps an afterglow, but you allowed the pleasure to take over as your body slackened in Heavy's hold.

He pulled you back under the blankets, carefully supporting your neck and back with his enormous hands as he settled you in a comfortable position o top of his body. Your head on his chest, listening to the slow hammering of his heart, almost inaudible given the immense fat and muscle surrounding it. Something about the position felt so right. Like the two of you were one in this bed, soothing one another with a warm body to help the other drift off into sleep. Smiling softly, you kissed the bare flesh where your head lay, feeling drowsier and drowsier by the second. You had no idea Heavy wasn't as loopy as you were and could feel everything, even the feather-light kiss and the way you were so relaxed and at peace. Heavy began to hum gently, the reverberations profoundly soothing, the last thing you heard before you allowed sleep to claim you.

Heavy felt a bit of pride in this. He knew nothing about you before today, but something about seeing you so frail and vulnerable in the harsh wilderness, a dying light moments away from being snuffed out. Or how even in the warmth of his abode, you trembled, the cold still shilling you to the bone. Your poor body is so fragile compared to Heavy, and it hurts him to see something so small in pain. But now you are out of the cold for good. He was the one to give you warmth, pleasure, and peace; merely knowing this gave him great pride.

Heavy was always so protective of the ones he loved, and he knew he couldn't ever let you go now. Not after the world had mistreated you so cruelly. He watched your breathing begin to slow as you settled into a deep rest, and while he wished you were awake and holding him back consciously, he knew this was for the best. Furthermore, Heavy had been up for hours taking care of you and ought to put himself to bed, but he wanted to hold on a little longer. But he was fading fast. Being on his own for so long had made him lonelier than he realized.

He stopped humming, gently murmuring to your unconscious body.

"I thought I'd seen the last of my family. Thought I'd be all alone. But you give me a second chance. To start over a new life, a new family. To share with you."

Heavy had no idea what the next day would bring, but he allowed himself to hope for the first time in what felt like forever. To honestly believe a better future was coming, and he held the key to his fate right here in his own hands.

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dollmoth-productions · 7 months

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Hi i really love your plotonic yandere mental family and i want to request where the reader goes to mabye extra classes after school or something like that and once reader left extra classes and went home reader got hurt by like a bunch of really bad people im talking death threatening head injury and then reader had to walk home like that and the fam only finds out once reader gets home

⚠️ABUSIVE BEHAVIOR AND DRUGGING AND FORCED KISSING STOCKHOLM OBSESSIVE BEHAVIOR STALKING POSSESSIVE BEHAVIOR STOCKHOLM SYNDROME MANIPULATION ABUSIVE BEHAVIOR AND DRUGGING AND FORCED ITS NOT HEALTHY ⚠️

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

🙂 glam was the one that was worried the most for you when you finally came home all injured, he was the one that was patching you up

🙃 he didn’t say anything he was just grimacing the entire time he wanted to make sure that you were OK, but yet he couldn’t control his content for those people

🙂” you just relax until Vicky comes home OK?” he says to you gently placing you on the couch and leaving you with one of your favorite snacks.

🖤 when they came home and saw you injured, she was pissed glam was the only person I could calm her down somewhat, but she was pissed

🖤 oh, boy, she was cursing up a storm trying to find her baseball bat or some thing else to beat those guys heads in

🖤 she couldn’t even think of anything nice to say so she just grumpily hugged you

🩵Dee was the only logical person there. He probably knew that person, mostly because he attaches an AirTag to almost everything that you own, and a device that can hone in on audio so he tries to find out where they live and deal with him.

🩵 although he’s not much of a touchy person, he does give you a nice brotherly shoulder pat to make sure that you’re OK

🩵” we will deal with it” he said

💚 heavy was pissed off but because he still a kid can’t really do much so he just played video games with you to call me down

💚 he genuinely does care about you, but because of how young he has, he can’t do much he did buy you an energy drink to make you feel better though

💚” come on let’s go play some dead by daylight you always like that”

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

I am back!!

#fanfic #yandere imagines #yanderexreader #yandere scenarios #platonic yandere #platonic yandere imagine #yandere family #yandere metal family #yandere glam #yandere Vicky #yandere Dee #yandere heavy #tw yandere

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fatgumsurpremacy-remastered · 1 year

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(5eraphim) ok so- your choice of characters and how many, but who do you think would be the scariest when their jealous?

RATTI! I have actually wondered the exact thing. I’m assuming you meant yanderes so I’m actually really excited for this.

TW: Jealousy, Guns, breif mentions tourture, blackmail.

It’s in alphabetical order, I’ll specify ranks after entry. (MLA has screwed me up.) Sorry if it wasn’t too long, feel free to ask me to expand if you’d like!

Demoman: Tavish only really gets sassy when he’s jealous. He’s more likely to give his S/O the quiet treatment when jealous. If someone were trying to make him jealous however he’d use a well placed mine to get the message across. It’s nothing scary at all unless you don’t like being ignored. 3/10

Engineer: Engie is the guy who seethes in quiet. He doesn’t let a single person know his next move, much less what he’s thinking or feeling. He’s more than willing to put a peaceful resolve on an issue if he can but he doesn’t shake grudges. He gathers information, and could decimate a man’s entire image in one strategic move. It’s safe to say that Engie is rational and won��t jump to conclusions, but it he suspects you to be trying to make him jealous he’s terrifying. 8/10

Heavy: I can’t see Heavy instigating anything, his intimidation comes from his stature and that’s really what he uses. Misha hurts quite a bit when he feels jealous but the most it will translate to is a shove or another. It’s just enough to get his point across, but it’s not violent. At least not infront of his S/O. He might not be so forgiving if they’re not around. 6/10

Medic: Medic doesn’t even realize he’s jealous until his rhythm is thrown off, so it’s a bit of an emotional curveball. Medic will act spontaneously, but when he does it’s a punishment on either end. The one who made him jealous and his S/O. His punishments can be brutal and mentally scarring, those who made him jealous never make it out in one piece. 9/10

Pyro: Pyrovison be damned this man gets livid. Pyros intentions are clear from the moment he feels that pang in his chest. It’s not a sense of entitlement with Pyro. Its the need to protect, his S/O will not be hurt but god save the poor souls who made him feel like this. His approach is anything but friendly and is more akin to a predators stalking. Out of each of the mercs with their emotions Pyro is much more feeling of his and it definitely shows. 10/10

Scout: Scouts a very loud jealous person, and this comes across as looking cocky. He’s violent to the jackass who made him jealous and pouty to his S/O for ever giving that person the time of day. He’s whiny all around and won’t leave that argument without bruises, But each time hes made up his mind to kill the dude who did this. 5/10

Sniper: Chances are that it wasn’t even close to being intentional. If Mick is jealous he hasn’t ran off with you yet. But when he’s jealous mundy is the source of constant anxiety in his victims, making their life hell. That shot sure could have been a bulb going out, but do you think a normal person would take that risk. Mick relies on his position to invoke fear into his targets, but he wouldn’t injure them till he’s made up his mind. 8/10

Soldier: Soldiers jealousy is known to everyone on the base and he will attack out of the blue. He can be standing next to the person that made him jealous and will just pull out a gun to shoot them. His unpredictability has his teammates and those in public with a brain walking on eggshells. His fearsomeness comes from delusional and erratic behavior which makes him 7/10

Spy: While spy has had a lot of practice keeping his emotions inside, he’s also very passionate. Passionate to the point of confrontation and if that doesn’t work he’ll pull you from each and every person you hold dear. Long enough to get his point across, if this doesn’t work he places suspicion upon them for your abscesses. Effectively keeping them far far from you. He’s the second to last to resort to anything physical to prove himself. 5/10

#yandere Demoman #yandere engineer #yandere Heavy #yandere medic #yandere Pyro #yandere scout #yandere sniper #yandere soldier #yandere spy #yandere tf2

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yanderes-galore · 2 years

Note

Heavy platonic who is overprotective of his little sibling S/O, they could be like heavy but with light weapons

I feel like Heavy, no matter the team, would be pretty great with a sibling Darling. He's a family man :)

Yandere! Platonic! Heavy with Sibling! Darling

Pairing: Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Manipulation, Threats, Overprotective behavior, Breaking bones mention, Murder mentioned.

- Oh, he'd be so protective and affectionate towards you.

- You're his little sibling!

- He's your big bro!

- Why wouldn't he be protective over you?

- Honestly, Heavy may be very against you being a merc alongside him.

- You should stay home instead, where it's safe-

- Nevertheless, despite what he thinks, you're hired onto his team.

- Your class is similar to his except you use lighter weapons.

- Expect Heavy to scold you once you join.

- Nothing much can be done now that you're here but Heavy's determined to keep you safe from the other team.

- "You should've stayed with mother...."

- "But I wanted to come with you, Misha! I miss you at home-"

- Heavy essentially becomes a bear around you.

- If any of the other mercs are around you they need to be careful.

- Anything as small as hurting your feelings or as big as getting you hurt will set him off.

- Demoman may offer you a drink, only for Heavy to cut him off, for example.

- "(Y/N) too young to drink...."

- "I'm literally of age-"

- "Too young."

- You will not have too many freedoms as Heavy still treats you as a kid even though you're an adult.

- That's part of him being the big bro.

- He's somewhat on edge around his own team when you're with him.

- He's not letting you anywhere near the other team, even during cease-fire.

- "They could hurt you."

- "Aren't you being a bit overprotective?"

- "No."

- "Sure...."

- Heavy's incredibly strong, so if someone does disturb you they will have something broken.

- Even if they are on his own team.

- Just because they are the same team color as him, does not mean he can let them hurt you.

- It's possible for Heavy to calm his violent behavior, luckily.

- He will still be a very caring brother towards you even if he is overprotective.

- Expect bear hugs, affectionate ruffling of the hair, all that.

- He loves to be affectionate to you even if the others see.

- This is not their business anyways, just two siblings hanging out.

- He understands you can be independent but he'd rather you two didn't stay away from each other for long.

- What would mother say if he let you get hurt?

- He will slowly go from hating you joining merc work with him to enjoying it.

- He's happy as long as you're safe.

- Although if you get injured, he's asking Medic to lock you in the medbay until things are okay again.

- He wants you in good care, if Medic fails at his job, Heavy will be livid.

- "You WILL keep (Y/N) safe."

- Now, if you plan on starting relationships at base?

- May Heavy have mercy on them....

- They will be intimidated and scared off as Heavy feels it's for your own good.

- Even if you asked him to tone it down a bit...

- Overall, Platonic! Heavy is your standard overprotective sibling, even if Yandere.

- He just isn't afraid of breaking a few bones or murdering a few men to keep you happy.

- "Have good day, (Y/N)?"

- "Yeah... just Scout broke his leg today and won't say way."

- "I'm sure baby man is fine, now come, let's have lunch."

#yandere team fortress 2 #yandere tf2 #yandere platonic tf2 #yandere platonic tf2 heavy #yandere tf2 heavy #yandere heavy #yandere platonic

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bunnygirllover45 · 24 days

Text

"You'll never be satisfied with just normal 'love', won't you? then let me give you exactly the type of twisted affection you crave."

♡ another cg done for the vn. Naoya being the protagonist doesn't mean he's not going to get his own cgs ;]

#probably the last one I'll show bc I don't wanna spoil #there's at least another 5-6 cgs I need to make #This is a very illustration heavy vn lol #male yandere #yandere oc #yandere vn #visual novel #something rots vn #♡ something rots devlog

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emotionalmessss · 1 year

Text

Plaything

A/N: sukuna one-shot after my small hiatus from writing. I'll be looking over my requests and changing up my rules a bit, but enjoy!

Synopsis: studying with Yuji doesn't go as planned when sukuna decides to make a surprise appearance.

Warnings: heavy non-con, humiliation, slight yandere, slight violence, all sorts of bodily fluids, angst I guess, forced, size difference, sukuna is an ass. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.

Word count: 6.7K

“Yuji!” I called out from the living room. “Yuji!”

I fiddled with the pen that was tucked between my fingers as I waited for any sort of answer. I couldn’t think of a worse person to teach than Yuji. He could barely sit still for more than a few minutes before his mind wandered and he grew fidgety. I was previously enjoying my Friday afternoon at home, and alone, before Gojo called to inform me that my plans were going to change.

Not that I entirely cared, I could use the company from-

My thoughts were interrupted when I heard a slam coming from the adjoined room of my apartment.

“Fuck.” I groaned and caught the pen in my palm, giving it a tight squeeze before glancing up at the doorway.

“Get your ass out of the kitchen now!” I demanded, raising my voice since my previous call to him was ineffective.

My legs folded awkwardly beneath my body as Yuji came rushing out of the doorway - a bag of chips and cookies tucked under his arms as he watched me with widened eyes. My eyes glided over his face with a look of disapproval, my lips pulled straight as he jumbled the contents in his hands.

“Are you done raiding my pantry?” My lips shifted into a sarcastic smile. “Food can wait.”

“Training was hard! Maki had us working overtime today.” He pouted as he began walking towards the couch. He dropped the cookies onto the table, but gripped the chips like he thought it was going to be his last meal.

I reached down for the papers and shook them in his face. “That doesn’t mean you can slack off on your school work!”

He flinched, his hands shooting up to block his head from my banter. “I can’t think on an empty stomach!” Yuji gave me a nervous smile, his eyes closing as he chuckled.

I tossed the papers onto the table. “You can’t think regardless.” I poked playfully at him.

“Hey!” Yuji pouted as he ripped open the bag of chips. I watched as he fished a handful out and shoved them into his mouth. Crumbs fell from his lips and onto his black slacks - I guess he changed back into his uniform after working with Maki and Panda.

“It’s true.” I fully turned to look at him, adjusting myself on the couch. “Not all your learning can be done in the field.” I watched as he dug his hand into the bag again and leaned over towards the textbooks and papers in front of us.

“Yeah, yeah. I know.” He grumbled, his lips pulled back into a frown as he looked down at the work he fell behind on. He squinted for a moment before looking back up at me. “Oh! You know what would be great?” Yuji quipped, seemingly attempting at stalling.

“What would that be?” Another heavy sigh came out.

“Some tea! It could help us relax and -”

I cut him off with a laugh, swatting the back of his head gently. “I’ll make some tea after we finish the first page.”

Yuji let out a small groan of annoyance, his mouth pulling down into a frown. I watched patiently as his head tilted down in acknowledgement. Another smile pulled at my lips as he situated himself on the couch, hunching over slightly as he read over the pages. I had met Yuji a few months back, along with Nobara and Megumi. We all got along well, and had frequent missions all together. But I grew closer to Yuji than I did with everyone else. His mannerisms were often like a child, always smiling and giddy. I found it difficult to remind myself that he is the vessel of a thousand year old curse that has a taste for blood and chaos.

Ryoumen Sukuna. The King of Curses.

I glanced over at Yuji slowly, watching as he worked through the readings and questions at a decent pace. He’d be faster if he didn’t second guess himself so much. He was smarter than he let on. He hadn’t even asked me for help yet - too stubborn to seek help from others.

Yuji trained almost every day with Gojo and Maki, upping his strength and keeping Sukuna at bay. I was astonished at his drive to succeed and rid the world of curses. He seemed to be unfazed by the monster hidden deep within his subconscious.

Megumi told me about the first time he met Sukuna, through Yuji’s body of course. He told me that he felt like he couldn’t even breathe, like all of the air was suddenly sucked out of the air by just being in his presence. His cursed energy was on a whole other level, even when he wasn’t in his true form. Megumi explained that it was one of the few times where he didn’t know what to do. Should he exercise the boy who impulsively consumed one of those wretched fingers? Should he call for help? Should he run? I couldn’t even begin to imagine what that must’ve been like. I didn’t even want to.

Thinking about it made my stomach churn and my mouth dry up-

“Y/N?” I heard his voice call out.

My vision came back into focus as I turned to glance at the salmon hair coloured boy. “Hm?”

“You kinda zoned out there, are you okay?”

Oh, nothing really. Just lost in thought about the blood thirsty curse hidden deep in your body that liked to come out at the worst of times. Nothing much, you know. I monologued to myself, keeping my expression blank.

“I was just thinking of making us some tea now.” I forced a small smile and brushed a stray hair out of my eyes. I didn’t want to concern Yuji with my own paranoia, he faced enough of it from the Elders and everyone else that came into contact with him.

He watched me, carefully studying my facial expressions to see if I was hiding anything.

“I have this new one that I just bought, I think you’d like it.” I pushed myself up from the couch, not wanting to cause Yuji to worry more than he already did. I carried myself over to the doorway and paused for a moment to look back at him, “you’re doing great with your work. I was watching the entire time.” I flashed another smile, which caused Yuji’s expression to mirror my own from the praise.

“Thanks, y/n.”

I gave a small nod before disappearing into the kitchen. I needed a minute to myself, and couldn’t understand the sudden anxiety creeping up inside my subconscious. It’s not like I was in any danger being around him. I spent more time with Yuji than I did with anyone else, he almost spent more time at my apartment than his own dorm.

Still, with all the reassurance that I engraved into my head, I couldn’t help but feel a gnawing anxiety in the back of my head. Christ, what was going on with me?

As I waited for the tea to brew, I peeked into the living room.

Yuji leaned over the table, pen in hand, and his free hand coming up to scratch the back of his head. His brows furrowed in concentration as he worked through his readings and questions silently. He huffed slightly and I realized that he was probably stuck somewhere and that I would need to guide him.

My attention focused back on the tea, which I now poured into two glass mugs. The liquid steamed and smelt wonderful. I balanced them both in my hands and made my way back over to the living room. Yuji still sat in the same position, frowning deeper.

“Stuck?” I asked, placing down the mug beside him and plopping back onto the couch.

“Yeah, I don’t understand this.” He pointed down.

I leaned over beside him, pulling my skirt further down my legs as I did so. “Oh, that’s easy.” I began walking him through the readings and explaining the questions a little deeper. He seemed to be getting a hang of it pretty quickly. He was definitely smarter than he let on.

“You’re smarter than you give yourself credit for.” I muttered, sipping at my tea.

Yuji turned to look at me, a small blush creeping up at his cheeks as he let out a nervous chuckle. “You’re just saying that. Besides, there’s no way that I could get this done without your help.” He reached for his mug, taking a small gulp before grimacing.

“What is it?” I asked before it dawned on me. “Oh right. You like honey in your tea.” I jumped off the couch before he could say another word, rushing off to grab the jar from the cupboard.

I reached up for the little jar that was tucked away behind the other cans and nonperishables. As soon as I grabbed it, my ears caught the noise of a small clattering coming from the other room. I dropped flat on my feet and glanced over in the same direction.

“Yuji?” I called out, walking towards the noise. “Are you okay?”

I peered around the corner slowly, sticking just my head out. “Yuji?” I looked over at the now empty couch. His papers and snacks were sprawled out everywhere and his cup of tea was knocked over, dripping onto the floor.

My attention drifted over to the front door, which was still shut and locked from earlier.

“Yuji, quit messing around.” I stood in the doorway now, my eyes searching for any sign of him. Was he trying to freak me out? He usually fooled around like this, but he was so engaged in his work; jumping out and scaring me seemed like it would be the last thing on his mind.

My fingers tightened around the jar of honey, frowning as I saw the mess left behind. It almost looked like there was a - oh god. My legs started to move towards the front door, before I even had time to process everything. I couldn’t explain the feeling, but whatever this was, it was telling me to get the fuck out, and fast.

The tips of my fingers grazed the cool metal of the handle, shaking heavily as I fumbled with the lock.

My body froze completely when the sound of a throaty, deep chuckle reached my ears. Much to my dismay, my movements halted and I could no longer control my body. My back was turned away from the eerie sound, my heart trying to convince me that it was all in my head.

Heavy footsteps followed when I made no attempt to react. The beating in my chest amplified, my hands loosening just enough for the jar that I still held to fall and shatter against the flooring beneath me.

“Leaving so soon?” The deep voice asked, still sounding like they were behind me, only a few feet back

A small squeak slipped from my lips as I finally managed to gain control over my body. Although, I did not turn to face that ominous voice. Instead, I glanced down to the broken jar at my feet; the sticky honey pooled at my toes, pieces of glass reflected back up at me.

My hand was still wrapped around the doorknob, debating on my options. Could I unlock the door, open it, and run down the hallway and outside before they reached me? Would I have time to scream for help? Would anyone actually come? My thoughts were running a million miles per second and I couldn’t keep up.

Another laugh echoed behind me, this time it sounded amused. I twisted my head back to finally make eye contact, only to feel my last shred of hope disappear when I noticed who - no what, was behind me.

A shaky breath fell from my lips as my eyes focused on His face. The black markings spread down from beneath Yuji’s bright eyes, reaching all the way to his chin. Another two marks stretched across his nose and on his forehead, solidifying my previous fears. While it was technically Yuji’s body, it didn’t really look like him anymore. He seemed to grow a foot taller, while his training outfit strained under new muscle mass.

Sukuna. Fucking Sukuna.

The expression on his face almost sent me into a panic attack. He watched me like a predator stalking its prey, head tilted ever so slightly while his lips pulled back into a smirk. He knew. He fucking knew. My pupils were blown wide as I gripped the handle tighter, attempting to use my thumb to unlock it as I maintained eye contact with the curse that adorned my best friend's face and body.

The air in the room felt thick like glue, wrapping around my chest and choking me out. Was this what Megumi felt? Constricting and suffocating?

Sukuna’s eyes moved from mine and floated down my body, lingering slightly on my chest and waist before shooting back up to read my expression. As much as I wanted to cringe at his prying eyes, I managed to keep a straight face. I wanted nothing more than to run down the hallway and find Gojo, but I knew that was exactly what he wanted.

His wandering eyes caused a rush of heat to flow through me, unsettling my already flipped stomach. No. He couldn’t possibly-

Megumi’s stories lingered in the back of my head. He’s on a whole other level, Y/N. You can’t take him on yourself. If he ever switches with Yuji, you run and find Gojo or me. He would tell me whenever Yuji wasn’t around. I guess he didn’t want to make Yuji feel even worse than he already did, as he was the vessel.

“Well?” Sukuna spoke again, the deepest of his voice startling me to jolt straighter. “Aren’t you going to run?” He sounded bored, almost like he was annoyed that I wasn’t reacting. I knew that he wanted me to react, whether it was to run, scream, cry, or beg him to switch back with Yuji.

I swallowed hard. “No. That’s exactly what you want and I don’t want to give you the satisfaction.” I fully turned to face him, letting my hand drop from the handle.

My body buzzed with adrenaline to escape, but I knew there was no way that I could outrun him. I had to play this smart. Yuji was almost certainly fighting for control, but he must be exhausted and weak from all of his training. It was going to take him longer. I just had to stall a little bit. Despite the pep talk that I mentally gave myself, I still felt horrified. My breathing stunted unconsciously, restricting the access of air into my lungs.

Sukuna’s arms crossed over his chest and he grinned, flashing me his unnaturally sharp canines.

“Have it your way then.”

Before I could fully process his words, he dove towards me. I gasped and leaped out of the doorway, narrowly escaping his sudden attack. Fuck. So much for stalling. I stumbled over my own feet as I threw myself over the back of the couch, landing on my unsteady feet. My body spun around in an instant, focused on keeping him within my sight. Sukuna watched me as I took a small step backwards, but remained on the other side of the couch.

“Stay the fuck away from me.” I took another hesitant step back, eyes darting back to the door. No more stalling. Yuji wasn’t going to come back out for a while. It was time to get the fuck out of here and fast. I had limited options on where I could go. Getting to the front door meant that I would have to run by him, which certainly meant he would capture me. Running to my bedroom wasn’t smart either, as there was nothing to barricade myself in with. Instead, I focused on keeping the distance between our bodies.

Sukuna’s eyes brightened when he watched me stumble back, enjoying the fear that he was pulling from me. It was sick. My every move was being studied by his crimson eyes, anticipating what I would do next.

“You’re just as annoying as that brat.” He laughed, referring to Yuji.

Once again, the unnerving sound of his laugh startled me into stepping backwards at a quicker pace. It was silly. I knew that retreating would not allow me an escape from the sickening sound of it. But I stepped away all the same, hoping that some distance from the Curse would grant me freedom.

My eyes left him for only a moment, and when I looked back, he was out of my line of sight. I snapped my head from side to side, remaining on edge while I looked around the small room. Where did he go?! I bit down on my lip, and without thinking, I dove forward towards the front door again, only to be stopped. I felt a pair of hands grab my shoulders and yank me backwards. Behind? How?!

I expected to land on the ground, but my back hit something just as hard and knocked the wind out of my lungs all the same. I let out a sharp groan at the feeling, kicking and throwing my elbows back and in attempts to get free from his hold. My attacks did very little as his large hands moved from my shoulders and down to my waist. His grip was strong and sharp, digging into the soft flesh of my torso.

“Let me go!” I trashed about, screaming and fighting furiously.

I felt the rumble of his chest as he laughed, planting my back harder against his chest. The sudden movement surprised me, and I gasped before resuming my fight. He hummed in satisfaction, sending another wave of vibrations down my spine.

“That’s the spirit, slut.” He growled, giving me another tight squeeze.

I huffed, stalling my fighting. “What the fuck do you want?” My voice was low and hoarse.

“Isn’t that a stupid question coming from a sorcerer?” He mocked, leering down towards me. His body was oddly warm, warmer than I ever thought it would be.

I opened my mouth to respond but before I could, I felt my body being slung forward to the ground. My hands shot out and I let out another surprised cry, bracing myself for the hard fall. My knees and hands slammed against the ground, landing on all fours. Before I could stand up again, Sukuna’s foot planted on my back and pushed me onto my stomach. I let out a gasp of strangled air as I collided with the hard floor, Sukuna’s foot grinding me harder against the cool surface before retreating.

I gritted my teeth in anger and flipped myself over clumsily. Sukuna glared down at me, his smug expression taunting me into fighting back. Instead, I started to crawl backwards, attempting to distance myself. He matched my movements and followed me backwards at a slowed pace, until he dropped over top of me. I screeched, half expecting his full weight to crush me, but he caught himself, hovering just above me.

His red eyes focused down on mine, drinking up my quivering form. My heart felt like it was going to explode from anticipation, fearing his next movements. A sob of both fear and helplessness left my lungs as I watched those red eyes drift over my body.

“Yuji…” I muttered softly, turning my head to the side.

Sukuna must’ve heard me because he snorted, but chose not to respond to my helpless plea for Yuji to return. He had control in this situation, and there was no way that he was going to willingly switch back at this moment.

The tears I fought back pooled at my lower lash line, slipping down the sides of my flushed cheeks as Sukuna gleaned over me, lowering himself closer to my face. I shut my eyes tightly and cringed back. This was it. I thought. He’s going to tear my throat out with his sharp teeth. I was going to die, choking and sputtering in my own blood. I braced myself for the pain, preparing myself for death that awaited me for open arms. Yuji…Nobara…Megumi…

I felt nothing but warmth. Was this death? My eyes snapped open when I realized that this feeling was not my blood seeping out of my throat; it was his tongue. My shriek of fear turned into disgust when I felt his tongue press flat against my jawline and lick up my cheek and over my eye.

“Urgh… wha-” My cheek damp with his spit as I looked up at him. He wasn’t going to- no. He wouldn’t… No.

His face retreated back from mine, a feral look of satisfaction painted across his features. My face twisted back up in disgust when I realized, causing him to chuckle. Before I could scramble away from his intentions, his arms wrapped around the back of my thighs and he pulled me against him, draping them over his own. My skirt rode up around my hips as he placed himself flush against my core, grinding against the thin fabric of my panties.

My gaze widened and I shook my head, squirming against his grip. “No! Not this! Just kill me!”

Sukuna laughed again, “You sorcerers really are stupid, huh?” His nails dug into the soft flesh of my thighs, parting me further open for him.

My hands flew to meet his, scratching and pounding against them with a new sense of urgency. Shock took over my expression as I fought with a newfound strength, but it proved to be fruitless.

“You can’t!” I cried, kicking and twisting my body.

Sukuna bellowed out from a laugh, my frantic eyes meeting his half lidded ones, his head cocked ever so slightly to the side as he watched me. He looked as if he wanted to devour me, his tongue darted out again as he licked his lips. Sukuna felt an overwhelming sense of pleasure as I struggled in his grip. There was a deep, dark primal instinct embedded deep within him that made him enjoy forcing submission.

“I can and I will, slut. No one is coming to save you. You’re all mine.” His hands moved faster than I ever thought as he ripped the shirt of my uniform, the cool air hitting against my already erect nipples and eliciting a sharp gasp from my lips. My chest heaved up and down as my hands flew from his and over my chest, trying to shield my body from his lustful gaze.

Sukuna grinned, prying my hands away. He groaned, staring at my tits that were on full display. He looked hungry, as if he hadn’t eaten in years and I was the perfect meal for him, served up on a silver platter. My mouth parted when I felt something wet and slimy fall on the swell of my breasts. My eyes blew wide when I saw the glimmer of saliva slide down to my collarbone, pooling there. Drool. He drooled.

“Oh god. You’re sick.” I cried, wanting the feeling of his skin off of mine.

“Your God can’t save you now. Take it like the good little slut I know you are.” He wiped his chin with the back of his hand before lowering it down to my cunt, which clenched around nothing. With my skirt bunched around my hips, it provided an ease of access. Sukuna looped his finger through my panties and tore them off in one swipe.

“No!” I tried to push his palm away futilely.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure Yuji can see everything.” He oozed, his voice hitting me like a ton of bricks. “Maybe then that brat will stop jerking his cock to the thought of you.” He snickered, his fingers prodding against my dry folds.

I squeezed my eyes shut, somehow hoping that his words would be blocked out by this. “Stop, this isn’t right.” I didn’t want to believe the things he was saying, but his taunting would not let up.

“What’s not right? That you’re a little cock tease or that Yuji fucks his fist picturing you bent over and screaming for him?” He sneers, his fingers make work on my cunt, spreading open my folds but never reaching for my clit.

His words felt like a vice, tightening inch by inch with every mocking word that dripped from his mouth. Despite looking like my best friend on the outside, there were no similarities on the inside. Sukuna was sadistic, cruel, and demeaning. He enjoyed the chaos he caused, having zero regard for the lives of anyone but himself.

My reaction must’ve drawn out some pleasure from the monster above me because he spoke up again, suddenly. “You know how many times I had to listen to that brat moaning out your name?” He taunted, glimmering teeth on full display. “It’s only fair that I get a taste.”

I felt his fingers pull away for a moment, while another shaky sigh came from my parted lips. That loss of contact only lasted for a few seconds, and then came the sense of familiarity when that warm wetness returned. My breathing stuttered as my eyes shot down to my core, immediately noticing the second mouth that formed on the palm of his hand. My mouth slacked open as I watched the thin muscle poke out and lick a stripe up my cunt.

“Urgh-” My head fell back against the floorboards, feeling the heat begin to accumulate between my legs.

Sukuna hummed in satisfaction, his free hand moving towards my face. I flinched when I felt his surprisingly soft hands grab my chin and turn my attention back towards him. “Eyes on me or I’ll rip them out of your pretty head.” His nails dug into the sides of my cheeks as he pinched them together.

His tongue dragged down, gathering up the slick that quickly bloomed at my entrance before pulling back up and drawing out slow circles on the tender nub. He repeated this movement a few times, licking up and down at an agonizingly slow pace. I could hear the lewd noises that my cunt was making, his spit and my own slick mixing together into a sticky mess. As much as I fought against the feelings he was providing me, I could not fight the soft mewl of desperation when his tongue slipped into me.

“So wet already, pathetic.” As much as I wanted to look away, I enjoyed having my eyes still in their sockets.

Sukuna groaned at the sensation of my cunt clenching down on his appendage. He had not tasted something so good in over a century, so sweet and warm, dripping out all for him. It felt even better since he could hear Yuji crying out in the background of his mind, shouting obscenities and begging the Curse to stop his assault. Sukuna did not. His tongue dove deeper, licking and slurping like a wild animal at a feast. This was a feast.

My reactions only spurred him on more, watching gleefully as my legs twitched and toes curled at the sensation. He watched as my eyes rolled back lazily and my hips swayed against his palm. I could feel my eyebrows pull together in a frown, desperately fighting against the feelings he was giving me.

His tongue curled upwards and my body spasmed. Sukuna chuckled and slammed his palm on my hip, pinning me to the floor to stop my writhing. “Desperate little bitch.”

My eyes rolled back and I felt my hips jerk involuntarily forward, seeking pressure against my unsatisfied clit. My thighs squeezed together as I tried to drown out the pulsating that grew into a gnawing feeling of pain, wanting a release.

“Ah, ah, ah.” Sukuna tutted, retracting his tongue and pulling away. “Did I say you could come yet?”

Another whine came from my lips from the loss of contact. While I fell down from my built up high, so did my pride. Lazy lidded eyes met mine, hints of annoyance lingered behind them as he watched my paled face twitch, snapping back to reality. My hands slammed against the floor and I tried to scoot out of his hold; reality hitting me like a fucking truck. Sukuna followed closely as I scampered backwards, making quick work to grab onto my ankle and tug me back in place.

“Where do you think you’re going? We’re not finished here.” He growled down at my shivering form, legs turning to mush from a single glare. He enjoyed watching me try to retreat away, but also felt a pinch of annoyance at the back of his head. I watched as his eyes squinted and he smirked, an expression that could only be described as terrifying in this moment. I returned with a look of pure fear as I stared into the eyes of the beast.

“Please! Don’t! I can’t do this any-” I cried when Sukuna flipped me onto my stomach, my chin knocking against the ground before I could finish my sentence.

“You’re right. I’m getting bored of this.” Before I had a chance to crawl away again, his hands were pulling at my hips, angling me so that my ass was perched up and pressed into his groin. He must’ve guessed my next moves because his hand moved to hold my back down, keeping my chest pinned to the floor.

A puff of strangled air left my mouth and I craned my head to look back at him, my eyes pleading for any sense of mercy hidden within him. I felt regret seep into my nerves as I watched Sukuna lick his lips at the sight of my ass, which was on full display for him. His hand pressed harder against my clammy skin, his gaze finally reaching my own.

“Don’t panic, I’m not fucking that hole.” He traced soft patterns against the globe of my ass. “Not today, anyways.” He chuckled, pleased with himself as he shuffled around with Yuji’s shorts. My throat tightened when his cock sprung free, large and thick, dripping with precum at the tip.

I bit down hard on my lip and tried to scurry forwards, my blunt nails digging into anything that I could catch. “No. You can’t. You’ll rip me apart-” Sukuna let out a groan of annoyance and pulled me back down. His fingers raked through my hair and tugged it back, guiding my head back towards his direction.

“I’m going to fuck you whether you want it or not. Fighting back will only hurt you worse.” He grunted, his hand moving back and forth down his shaft, smearing his precum all over until it glistened. He positioned himself at my entrance, slowly guiding himself inch by inch inside of me. My jaw slacked open and my eyes squeezed shut at the burning sensation that shot up my entire stomach.

“Sukuna, please. Get off.” My hands tried to pry his out of my hair. “It hurts.”

He said nothing when he slammed himself completely inside me, his nails digging painfully into my skin. I had not been prepared nor adjusted for his size, so when his cock was fully seated inside me, I screamed. The searing pain erupted and traveled up to my throat, making me feel like I was going to throw up.

“Fuck.” Was all Sukuna could say, still frozen still. He felt like he was being suffocated by the tightness of my cunt, which clenched tighter when I screamed. His eyes closed for a moment, savoring the terrified expression on my face. “You’re so tight.” His hips moved slowly, dragging himself out before slamming back in.

I screamed again, back bowing down to the ground and clawing harder at his hand. “Too much! I can’t-” Sukuna dragged my head up and slammed it down onto the ground, silencing me immediately.

“Shut up. I could care less if it hurts. I’ve satisfied you enough.” He spoke low and with no regard for my well being.

Sukuna’s hips began to move at a steady pace, while the pain of his cock buried inside me still lingered, it was overshadowed by the throbbing at my temple. My vision was spotty and I felt myself swaying, struggling to remain in this position. Sukuna must have noticed this because he let go of my hair and grabbed my hips, whether it was to steady me or to get better leverage, I didn’t know.

With my slumped form pressed tightly against his groin, it became easier for Sukuna to plow into my cunt, which clenched tightly as a last resort to fight off the intrusion. This only seemed to please him further and he let out a dark laugh, relishing in the feeling.

With my arms pinned awkwardly beneath my body, I had very little range of motion, which only made it easier for Sukuna. His hips snapped against my ass, filling me up to the brim as his cock slammed into my cervix. My mouth hung open in a silent scream, eyes wide but only able to see dark patches.

I managed to tilt my head towards him, noticing that he kept his gaze on his cock stuffing me full. My breathing was sporadic, unable to get air in without hiccuping and sobbing. The dark spots in my vision only grew bigger and my head swayed.

“I’m gonna pa-”

Sukuna slowed his pace, but it wasn’t for my own mercy. “Tch. Stay conscious. I’m not going to fuck a corpse.”

My teeth gritted at his words, but his slowed pace allowed me to control my breathing.

“I’m going to kill you.” I mumbled, eyes watering with fresh tears, clumping my thick lashes together.

Another booming laugh filled the room again, and this time Sukuna paused. “Oh yeah? The big bad sorcerer acting all tough now?” I was yanked upwards, my back slammed against his chest as he leered down to my ear. With this new angle, his cock reached a whole new depth inside me. My teeth caught my bottom lip, not wanting to let out a sound.

Sukuna trailed his hands along my waist before squeezing my clammy skin. “You’ve got more balls than that brat.” He whispered, his breath hitting the shell of my ear. “Want to know what he’s doing right now?” He asked, which seemed more rhetorical than anything, his tone hinting at something much more sinister than I expected.

“What are you talking about?” I hissed back, jerking my head away from the heat of his mouth.

His hand wrapped around my throat, not enough to cut off air but enough for me to shift back closer to him. “Ah,” his hips jerked upwards, causing me to suck in a sharp breath. “He’s watching.” Sukuna taunted, making sure that I was balanced on top of him before reaching round and grabbing my tit. “Jerking himself like a fucking pubesent child.”

A wave of nausea hit me in my throat, his words cutting deep. Was this true? Was Yuji enjoying this…? How much could he see? Sukuna tweaked my nipple hard, marveling in the pliable flesh between his fingers.

“Let’s give him a good show, yeah?” He chuckled, flipping me round so that my legs were on either side of his waist and I was now facing him directly. I straddled him awkwardly, perched upon his legs. My hands flew up to his shoulders so that I wouldn’t fall backwards. Something told me that he wouldn’t care if I fell and slammed my head into the ground again.

“Don’t say that.” I snarled, glaring up at him while he watched me with half-lidded eyes, too concentrated on the feeling of my walls squeezing around him. “You’re repulsive.”

“Don’t be all coy with me now. I don’t mind sharing my playthings.” He sneered, his hips snapping upwards while I was caught off guard. My head snapped back and I gasped, feeling the pleasure as he hit a spot hidden deep within me. “That’s it. Let the brat hear you scream for me.” He hit that same spot that made me see stars, my eyes fluttering shut at the sensation.

I lost control of my emotions, and now was beginning to lose control of my own body. My nerves sent off waves of pleasure as my cunt milked him, clenching tightly every time he buried himself inside me.

This was wrong. So so wrong.

Over and over, Sukuna hit that spongy spot. I could hear just how wet I was everytime Sukuna thrusted his hips. So much so that it gathered at the base of his cock and seeped onto his thighs, making him grin ear to ear. “What a good little sorcerer.” He cooed, edging me on. “Look at you now.” A dribble of drool slid down my chin, soft moans coming from the back of my throat.

“Ah- there!” I squealed, my nails surely breaking skin and drawing blood, but Sukuna didn’t seem to mind. He was enjoying seeing me like this. As much as he loved hearing me scream and beg for mercy - this, this was something else. Seeing my will break and take his cock like this drove him mad. Seeing my eyes roll back and pouty lips open wide for him made him want to stuff it.

Sukuna’s hand quickly covered my opened mouth, his mouth returning on his palm to shove his tongue deep into my throat. “Hmmph!” I gagged slightly, not expecting the sudden intrusion.

“Don’t bite me.” He warned, keeping his pace as he glared down at me.

His tongue swirled around my mouth, invading my senses and driving me even closer to the edge. With his palm flat against my mouth and tongue shoving against my own, it was harder to breathe. My breaths come in short sporadic gasps and mewls. Excess saliva spilled out of my mouth and coated his hand, but he didn’t seem to mind. “Swallow it all and I’ll let you come.” He ordered. “I’m feeling generous.” I eagerly swallowed every last bit of his spit, knowing that I was close to coming any second now.

“What a desperate little slut.” His eyes narrowed down on my frame, watching my tits bounce at his quickened pace.

I moaned against his tongue when I came, squeezing his cock harder than ever. My eyes were wide open but I could barely see a thing, only focused on the feeling on release. “Fuck, you’re gonna push me out.” Sukuna groaned, gritting his teeth as he realized that he was about to come too.

“N-not inside…” I moaned, slowly coming back down from my high.

Sukuna must’ve heard me but chose to ignore me, because his hands moved back to my waist and he pushed me down on his twitching cock, making sure that I couldn’t jump off. He let out a deep moan as he filled me up, heating me up from the inside out.

I squeaked at the feeling, trying to pull away. “No!”

His cock was still buried deep inside me while his come leaked out of my overstimulated cunt, the aftershocks of my orgasm clenching around him. He shuddered before releasing my hips, allowing me to skitter off and away from him. The feeling of his come inside me made my body convulse, my body trying to squeeze it all out. I watched as it dripped onto the floorboards and slid between my asscheeks.

Sukuna sighed, his head raising up to meet my petrified gaze. His chest rose and fell quickly as he watched me. “I’ll see you again, Y/N.”

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blindmagdalena · 6 days

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Guilty Pleasures ( chapter three )

18+ 7.3k homelander x plus size f!reader. workplace harassment, stalking, voyeurism, assault (not perpetrated by HL), violence, smol murder, manipulation/gaslighting, hurt/comfort. nebulously takes place post s1. part 3/4. AO3 link. CH I CH 2 CH 4

Homelander will do whatever it takes to convince you that he's the hero you need.

hello, friends! hopefully this chapter being longer than the first two combined makes up for the fact it took me three months to write it. as you can tell, it sort of spiraled out of control from being two chapters, then three, and now four. the good news is that chapter four (the last one! i promise!) is complete, and i'll be posting it next week. i hope you enjoy it! 🖤

It’s shortly after one o’clock when Homelander knocks a whimsical melody against your office door, deciding he shouldn’t be precisely on time, lest he look as eager as he feels. He can already smell your perfume wafting through the doorway–the same scent he feverishly pumped his cock to the night before–as a teaser of what’s to come.

“Come in,” you call from the other side.

Homelander takes in a deep breath, squaring his shoulders. He screws his eyes shut, pinching his expression in a tight squeeze before he replaces it with a flashy grin, squaring away his anticipation in favor of his showman persona.

“Goooooood afternoon,” he drawls, strolling in with the same feigned level of confidence he’s entered every other moment of your life since stumbling across you, whether you knew it or not. He’s taken aback almost immediately, slowing in how he closes the door behind him.

You look nicer than usual. Your hair is styled with more conscious effort, and he’s been in show business long enough to recognize the makeup on your face. The shine of your blouse is a quality silk blend, and he can’t hear the scrape of cheap cotton underneath it anymore. No, you’re wearing something nice below, too. His lips slowly spread into a self-satisfied smile.

You dressed up for him.

Homelander takes the seat set across from you, sweeping his cape to the side with a flourish. He watches you tuck an empty container–your lunch, presumably–into a side drawer of your desk. His eyes closely track the way you lift your thumb to the corner of your mouth and swipe residue from it, sucking the mess from your digit. A distinct pang of arousal hits him just watching your cheeks hollow.

Imagine what she could do with that mouth.

“And good afternoon to you, Homelander,” you respond, straightening up in your seat. His gaze briefly dips to the swell of your breasts as you adjust yourself, casually dusting away any remnants of your lunch. Saliva gathers on his tongue at the instant memory of you scantily clad in your sleep wear, nothing but a thin sheet of worn fabric between you and his hunger. His eyes snap back up before you can take notice of how they wandered.

Lucky for him, you’re busy splaying out the folder he brought you the day before, scanning over the list of bullet points he’d slapped together for the sake of having enough talking points.

“I wanted to start with your concerns regarding the marketing for your upcoming miniseries,” you say, glancing up at him.

He clicks his tongue. “Wow, alright. Straight to business then,” he says, absently rolling his palms over the ends of the armrests on either side of him.

“I’m very bad at small talk,” you say. Probably to diffuse any notion that you were being rude on purpose.

“Ch’yeah, I’ll say,” he says, smiling thinly. “Lucky that you’re good at your job.”

“Shockingly, I was actually a personality hire. I don’t know what any of this means,” you say, matching his thinly veiled snark while gesturing to the spread of documents in front of you. He snorts softly. You have a knack for using that sharp wit to diffuse, but he doesn’t feel manipulated. You actually are funny. “I was hoping you’d explain your concerns.”

Smooth segue, he thinks, his eyes narrowing appraisingly. He’s worked enough interviews to know when he’s being led, but he takes the bait anyways, widening his smile.

“Sounds great.”

Homelander knows that you’re sharp, good at your job, but he needs to needle you into giving him what he wants. He wants to understand you, and the stack of his films he found hidden in your apartment. What he gets in the meantime is ample taste of your silver tongue, parrying his every jab with an equally sharp counter.

He can’t keep the smile from his face.

Gradually a level of familiarity slips into the air between you. He can see some of that tension in your shoulders easing. He’s steadily wearing down the walls you’ve managed to construct.

“I still think audiences will be confused,” he says, feigning a profound concern, stretching out the time of your little appointment.

“Well, audiences are a lot like celebrities,” you say, the hard candied shell of your professional exterior thinning with every back and forth, poised to crack at any second. “They’re smarter than we think they are.”

“Oohh, ouch,” he purrs. “Nice backhand you got there.”

A twitch at the corner of your mouth. He knows you’re fighting a smile of your own, and pride blooms warmly in his chest. He likes sparring with you, but he likes pleasing you even more.

“I disagree about market confusion. Your diehard audience will already be up to speed, your broader target audience will show up for anything with your face on it, and anyone more casual than that likely won’t have seen the miniseries anyways, so there’s nothing to confuse it with,” you say, scanning down through one of the pages of the document he gave you.

Perfect opening.

“And which audience is it you fall into, exactly?” He asks, cocking his head a degree. “I mean, given your position, I have to imagine you’ve seen my range of film and television.”

“I’ve done my due diligence,” you say vaguely. You’re good at answering without answering. Normally it would irritate him, but your forced aloofness combined with your closely guarded–and inexplicably secret–veneration of him makes it into tantalizing bait begging for the sharp sink of his teeth.

“So you’ve seen all my movies, then?” He extrapolates, setting a line of his own.

You chuckle, gaze flickering to him before back down to the pages. Too brief a glance to even come close to satisfying his hunger. “I didn’t say that.”

He scoffs lightly. “But you’re a fan of mine?”

“I definitely didn’t say that.” He can sense he’s hit a vein, and like any good predator would, he’s eager to bite into it.

“C’mon. Don’t tell me you’re shy,” he continues to prod, leaning forward slightly in his seat.

You inhale a breath that you barely prevent from sounding too obviously irritated. His grin remains untarnished by the scrutiny of your unwavering stare. There it is, that’s what he wants. The weight of your gaze upon him, evaluating, taking him in fully. He doesn’t care how he gets it, he just knows he wants it.

“You are shy,” he accuses, knowing you aren’t.

“I’m not shy, I’m a professional,” you say curtly, the scratch of your pen scathing while you write notations on the document.

Good, he thinks. More likely to slip up now.

“Jeeze,” he laughs. “You’re wound up tighter than my fictional manager in Darkest Day.”

“You didn’t have a manager in Darkest Day, that was Origins,” you correct. After a beat, your hand stills.

Homelander’s gaze slowly slides to meet yours. He watches your face fall and clicks his tongue. He positively relishes how your mask of indifference slips into subtle dismay at your misstep. Such a simple bit of trivia, and yet it spoke volumes.

Got’cha.

“You do watch my movies,” he said, tone dropping to a near whisper. He revels in the quiet way you groan, leaning back in your chair.

“Only the ones I was paid to,” you say, straightening up in your chair, but he can hear the defeat in your voice.

“Liar,” he says through his perpetual grin. “Don’t be embarrassed. How long have you been a fan?”

“Stop,” you say, burying your face in your hands. Oh, this is good. Was he your first crush? Your favorite hero? He must be still, judging by the flush of heat moving through you. All that pretense, all that haughty glowering, and beneath it all you’re a fan girl. He almost laughs at the thought of the face you’d make if he called you that.

“Which was your favorite?” He asks, burying the knife deeper, eager to cut through flesh and muscle and bone to get to the heart of truth beneath. “Bright World? Rise of a Hero? Justice Dawning?”

“I despise you,” you say melodramatically, digging your thumbs into your temples. “Also, Justice Dawning was cheesy, I’m offended you’d even offer it.” You try not to smile, but it happens anyway, and as soon as that secret little smile sneaks onto your lips it brightens Homelander’s eyes, reflecting your amusement back to you. Not just that, but amplifying it.

“You’ll learn to love me,” he tells you with confidence. You drop your hands, looking at him with subtle surprise. He holds your gaze. The earnestness of his words seems to dispel your mortification and replaces it with something more difficult to define, but he likes the shine it brings to your eyes.

The taste of your defeat is sumptuous. He’d prefer licking it straight from your tongue, but he’ll settle for this for the time being. An easiness settles into the air between you, deeper even than before your hackles rose with the lurking reality of your hidden opinion of him. It’s like a bubble has popped, dissipating uncomfortable tension, replacing it with something warmer.

He has every intention of turning up the heat even further.

The meeting moves forward. You work your way through his folder, and during a natural lull in conversation, he finally broaches the topic that’s been plaguing him since he stepped into your office.

“So,” he begins, interlacing his gloved fingers in his lap. “Gonna tell me what you’re all dressed up for?” He asks, wearing the same smile and speaking in the same tone he had when he baited you into admitting your secret love affair with his cinema.

He wants to hear you say that it’s for him, but he’ll settle for a flustered deflection. They’re as good as the same.

“Oh,” you huff with an airy little laugh, the sound like silver bells chiming. “I have a date tonight.”

You say something else, but Homelander doesn’t hear it over the tidal-like rush in his ears. He watches your pretty lips form words that he can’t understand. Everything falls out of focus as he tightly reins in the white hot rush of furious jealousy that floods his gut and erupts up the back of his throat like bile. He swallows the burn of it, jaw tight, and manages a tense smile.

“Great,” he barks, not realizing–or perhaps not caring–that he interrupted you. “First date?”

“First date,” you confirm, your tone less conversational than it had been a beat ago. The walls are going back up, but he’s too fixated on what feels like a stabbing betrayal.

“Exciting,” he says, adjusting his tone and mannerisms until they once more resemble something genuine. Something civil, despite the hostility in his gut. “Someone you know? Going anywhere special?”

“No, and not really,” you say evasively. He loathes how withdrawn you’ve become. You should be pleased he’s put off. Gloating even. It’s proof he cares, isn’t it? “It was his suggestion.” His. The leather of Homelander’s glove creaks subtly in the fist he makes. “I forget the name of the place,” you say, avoiding his gaze.

His right cheek tics. Liar, liar, pants on fire. People always underestimate his ability to read them.

You’ll learn not to lie to him.

“But you have an out if you need it, don’t you? Someone to bail you out in case he turns out to be some kind of freak,” he says, huffing the word with a lick of venom. It takes significant effort to keep the disdain from his face to imagine you as you are now sitting across from some nobody schmuck, lit by candlelight and smiling sweetly for them instead of for him.

“I always do,” you say, smiling thinly. He curates his own tone often enough to hear it in yours, and it pierces his ears like a thistle. He taps his fingers on his thigh, scrounging for something, anything else to needle you for, but your responses don’t give him much to work with.

“Well. If you did need someone–”

“I’m a big girl,” you interrupt, surprising him. He’s rarely interrupted. “I can take care of myself.”

At that, a thought strikes him. The slack line of his lips curls into a thin smile, and his hands relax on the armrests of the chair.

“I’m sure you can.”

Shaking off the aftermath of your one-on-one with Homelander proves to be more difficult than you’d anticipated. You replay it nearly moment for moment in your mind while freshening up after work.

Homelander has an uncanny knack for moving through demeanors as though he’s trying hats, determining which one best suits the situation. One moment he’s a slick carnivore licking his chops in anticipation of his meal to come, and the next he’s every ounce the hero they market him as. He’d been relentlessly charming during the meeting, his charismatic smile becoming one you’d wanted to earn again and again.

Then came the news of your date, and all at once Homelander possessed the ominous calm of a sentient statue. The moment still sends an eerie chill down your spine, even in recollection. How radically his appearance can change with mood or thought alone. You’d hate to ever see him truly angry.

“Get a hold of yourself,” you say to the bathroom mirror. You have a date tonight, and the last thing you need is to bring this kind of nervous energy to it. Powers or not, the commonality of man is easy to rely on, and you’ve developed the tactical mindset of an aloof cat. Never beg for what can be given freely. Never give more than you get. Never settle. “Be the cat,” you tell yourself affirmatively.

A directive which, unfortunately, winds up being exceedingly easy to follow through the course of your date. James, bless his heart, struggles to wring more than the occasional piteous chuckle from you. Conversation with him is akin to drinking seltzer water–he is neither offensive nor particularly exciting, being only a step above plain water.

Perhaps James’ blandness isn’t entirely his own fault, but rather the basis of comparison he is subjected to. Throughout the night, you find yourself critical of the way he looks at you–or rather, the way he fails to look at you. Your thoughts keep drifting back to your meeting with Homelander and the way he looks at you. The intense ocean-blue caress of his eyes summons a blush to your cheeks even in hindsight.

He looks at you in a way that no one else does. It's as if he's trying to memorize the smallest details in your skin, to uncover every secret trapped behind your guarded gaze. He has a stare determined to lay you entirely bare to him.

James’ wine dulled ogling could hardly hold a candle to that. Looking into his eyes, you see only the planning for whatever dullard comment he was going to make next.

Still, it’s not until the end of your date–an exceptionally long two and a half hours thanks to a mishap with your order–that James displays a behavior unsavory enough to elicit a truly unpleasant feeling in you. He’s quite clingy after a few too many glasses of wine. He walks you out of the restaurant with an arm around your waist, and more than once you have to bat his hand away from the seam where your blouse is tucked into your skirt.

“You in the parking garage or the back lot?” He asks, smiling in a way he must mean to be salacious, eyes half-lidded like he’s lost control of them.

“The back lot.” Parking was a nightmare with how late you arrived after work. “Is that where you are?” You ask, hoping it isn’t.

“No, no, I actually took an Uber in,” he says, and you know immediately by the way he starts tapping your hip with his index finger why he chose to do that.

“Want me to wait for you here until your Uber arrives, then?” You ask, turning out of his grasp to stand face to face with him outside of the restaurant. It’s late enough now that the streets have calmed some, at least by New York’s standards.

James’ expression falters, but he tries for a recovery with a hopeful smile. “Well, you know, I was sort of hoping we might continue this elsewhere,” he says, slipping his hands into his pockets. Is he trying to look suave?

“Oh, no,” you say, putting forth your very best sympathetic head tilt, matched with a well placed brow furrow. “No thank you.”

This time his expression doesn’t recover. His hands lift from his pocket and he makes a helpless gesture with them, very nearly pleading. “Really? I thought we were having a nice time.”

“And I’m so glad for that,” you say, and even you can hear the corporate edge sliding into your tone, which doesn’t seem to soothe him any. “But it’s for the best that we part ways here, James. Thanks for your time.”

“But–” Your inarguable dismissal staggers him. He gropes for recourse. “I paid,” he blurts out, which proves to be his final mistake.

Your polite facade drops. “For what?“ His booze addled panic shifts into confusion. “F…For dinner, but I didn’t mean–”

“And that entitles you to fuck me?” No sense in mincing words now.

His expression morphs again, this time into mortification. “No! No, but–”

“You thought this would be a transaction? God, and here I was thinking your gravest flaw would be how mind-numbingly boring you are. But to be boring and stupid?” You scoff, waving a dismissive hand. “Goodnight, James,” you say, the kindest dismissal you can muster. You turn on your heel before he can sour the evening any further, and luckily for him, he doesn’t pursue you further.

Unbelievable. As if you hadn’t offered to split the check. As if he expected it to be a transaction that he cashed in your bed. As if the cost of dinner was worth anything more than a polite smile from you. As if.

New York doesn’t sleep, but it does grow very, very dark. You’re on a narrow street, not an alley exactly, but not a main road, either. Still riled up, you bring up the parking app on your phone as you walk, swiping through to get ready to pay for your crummy back lot space. A clatter brings your attention up, and that’s when you see them—two men. One wearing a black leather jacket, the other with a kerchief slung around his throat.

You stop walking, caught between turning around, which would mean putting your back to the men up ahead, or continuing forward, which would mean passing within arm’s reach. They haven’t noticed you yet, or at least they’re pretending not to, but now they look right at you and smile.

The men don’t look dangerous, not like they do in the movies, but you know that means nothing—plenty of the worst people in the world looked safe. Yet the longer you stay put, the more you sense the ill intent wafting off of them like cheap cologne. “Hey, baby,” says one of them, moving toward you. “You lost?”

“No,” you say curtly, taking a step back. “Not lost. Excuse me.”

“You sure? We’re real good with directions,” says the second man, leering. Your eyes snap between them, phone clutched tight in your hand. “Y’look like you could use some.”

“No,” you say again, louder. How loud would you need to be for anyone to hear you over the sounds of the streets? Panic swells in your throat.

You don’t know how they got so close so quickly, but as you turn to run, a hand catches your collar. The guy in the leather jacket wrenches you back against him, one arm wrapping around your shoulders. Your phone clatters to the ground.

“Hey now, what’s the rush?” He asks, yanking you backwards. “Get off me,” you snarl, but he’s squeezing you tightly across the chest, making it hard to think, let alone breathe. You struggle until you feel something hard dig into your hip. A knife? No. You realize coldly that it’s a gun, the handle of it jutting out from his waistband and digging into you. In a desperate bid, you twist in his grip, trying to grab it.

“Careful,” says the other one, moving in front of you, closing in. “She’s got spirit.”

You kick out at the other guy but he jumps back, laughing at you. They’re both laughing, relishing in your fear. Your fingers skim the gun, but you can’t quite get it.

The first man’s breath is hot and sour on your cheek. “Come on, now, let’s have some fun.” You slam your head back into his nose—or try to, but you only manage to clip his chin. Still, you hit bone, hear the crack of a tooth, and just like that you’re free, stumbling to your hands and knees as the man reels. You hit the ground hard, the shock of landing lancing pain through your arms and legs. The gun tumbles from his waistband. Without thinking twice you lunge for it, fingers successfully closing around the grip right before one of the men grabs your ankle and pulls.

The street bites into your elbows and scrapes your knee bloody as you twist around and raise the gun, barrel leveled at the man’s heart. “LET GO!” You scream, heart hammering against your chest. “Oh shit,” says the man in the kerchief, eyes wide at seeing you armed, but the other one sneers at you, blood spilling from his mouth. There’s fury in his eyes, and the unmistakable intent to hurt you. “You ever held a gun that big, baby?”

“Let go,” you say again, voice firmer than the tremble of your hands. Your finger flexes on the trigger.

“You even know how to use it?” He asks, using his grip on your ankle to pull himself over you, his other hand falling to your thigh. He gives a pointed squeeze as he lifts himself up to tower above you. He reaches to take hold of you again, but you won’t let him. Can’t let him.

“Yes.” You squeeze the trigger as you say it, bracing for the recoil, the bang. It’s always so loud in the movies.

Nothing happens. You panic, looking at the weapon in your hands in dull shock. The safety isn’t on. You pull the trigger again, but the chamber rings hollow. It isn’t loaded. You look up at the man as his shadow falls over you. He bares his teeth at you, painted an ugly dark red with the blood spilling from his mouth. The man laughs, a short barking sound, and knocks the gun from your hands with a harsh slap. It goes skidding away.

“Stupid bitch,” he says, raising his boot as if you were an oversized bug, something to crush. You close your eyes and scream as he brings it down hard.

Or at least, he started to, but his leg locks up halfway, and then he topples, a single horrifying sound leaking from his clenched teeth. Your eyes open just in time to see his body hit the ground, a smoldering wound smoking from his chest. An instant later, the second man falls. This time you see the flash of crimson light that drops him.

Homelander’s cape billows in the wind with all the majesty of the flag it’s designed after as he descends from the sky. He lands in front of you, backlit by the distant street lights that give him an artificial glow. He’s beautiful, a perfectly manufactured angel delivered straight from some market tested Heaven.

“Hey, you hurt?” He asks, reaching for you.

Awestruck, all you can do is stare at his outstretched hand. Tears well in your eyes. Shock is setting in the aftermath of all that adrenaline in your veins crashing your system. Through the blur of your tears, Homelander’s expression shifts from concern to that of determination.

“It’s alright, I’m here now. They can’t hurt you,” he says, bringing your arm around his neck while he slips his own around your waist, effortlessly lifting you from the ground. Before your gaze can drift to the corpses–whose burning flesh you can smell mingling with the acrid city air–Homelander rotates, taking them from your line of sight.

With a flourish, he unhitches his cape from his shoulders and swings the fabric over yours. It settles on you heavier than you expected it to be, and impossibly warm. Moving back in, Homelader readily takes you back into his arms. He cradles you in his embrace, one hand cupping the back of your head, the other drawing lines up and down your back.

You try to choke out a sound, to ask him, how? How did he find you? How did he know you needed him? But none of the noises you make form any actual words. Your throat is too tight, and your tongue feels too big for your mouth, gnarled silent by panic. Everything is just too much. Your breaths only grow sharper as tears burn hot streaks down your face.

“Sssshhhhhhh,” he shushes by your ear, lifting you just enough to keep you on your feet, but take the weight of your body from you. His hold is compressive, but not oppressive. It takes everything you have left to lift your other arm around his neck while the sobs overtake you. He continues to hush you, whispering a menagerie of honeyed assurances in your ear, the core sentiment always the same.

I’ve got you. You’re safe now. I won’t let anyone hurt you.

You cry harder, coiling your arms tighter around his neck. He lets you cling to him, lets you sob away your makeup and soak the collar of his suit with the mess of it.

You don’t know how much time passes in your addled state of panic, but eventually your breaths begin to even out, though your heart continues to thunder. Your body isn’t convinced that the danger has vanished yet, eager to turn to flight now that your fight has gone.

“That’s it, just like that,” Homelander praises. “Breathe. Breathe. Good… Light as a feather now, okay? Like you can fly,” he tells you. The weightlessness you feel in his arms helps the idea, helps you to feel like you aren’t being crushed by the terrible weight of such a moment of horror. That’s all it had been, a moment–two at most–and yet the torment of it had felt hours long. Exhaustion falls over you in the wake of adrenaline, and you’re glad for Homelander’s arms around you. You doubt you’d be standing without them.

“Home,” you manage to croak. “Please.” You can still smell the man’s sour breath, the memory even more powerful than the stench of reality.

“I can take you home,” he coos, maintaining that same soothing tone of comfort. “Is that what you want?”

You nod, focusing instead on the vetiver fresh smell of him. You’ve never been near enough to him before to notice it, but now you fixate on it. Anything to drown out the stink of the alley. He smells so much cleaner, like fresh linen drying over green grass in the summer sun.

His arms flex around you before he adjusts them, lifting you smoothly into his arms. Your stomach flips the way it does when you go down a hill in the backseat of a car, gravity loosening its hold on you. You can feel the motion all around you, the wind ghosting over you, but Homelander himself feels motionless against you.

Flying. He’s flying. And so are you.

His cape shields you from the night air bite, pulled snug around you and secured where your bodies are pressed together. You haven’t felt like this since you were a child, cradled with such care and strength that feels beyond your comprehension. Homelander serves as both place and person–somewhere safe, someone kind–and you tuck yourself closer into the sanctuary of his arms, hands fisted in the protective fabric of his cape.

“I’ve got’cha,” he assures you, voice warm in your ear.

Without a shadow of a doubt, you believe him.

Homelander doesn’t need to ask where you live. It’s an easy detail to brush off if you question him. He doubts you will with the way you’re clinging to him, though. You feel good in his arms, settling so naturally against the contours of them he might convince himself you belong here. He doesn’t mind your weeping when it comes with your arms around him, fingertips brushing the nape of his neck.

A small shiver rolls down his spine.

Of all the ways Homelander expected the evening to unfold, he hadn’t properly anticipated you. While he cradles you, he replays again and again the moment you were snatched. You fought without hesitation. You wrenched the gun free. The fierceness in your eyes as you aimed it had been exquisite. The resolve in your gaze as you fired it even more so.

He’d known you were confident, but that kind of clawing survival can only be learned of a person in action. He’s known many supposedly strong people–supe and human alike–who walk as stone giants, but shatter like glass when faced with any real danger.

You couldn’t have known that you weren’t in any real danger. You couldn’t have known that he’d told those thugs to scare you, but not hurt you. You couldn’t have known he’d ensured the gun wasn’t loaded. You fought as though it was for your life, and it enthralled him.

He hadn’t planned on killing them in front of you. They would have been loose ends to tie up after his heroic rescue, but somewhere along the line that stupid bastard lost the thread. He hurt you, bloodied those pretty knees of yours, and he moved to strike you. To grind you beneath his heel as if you were the vermin instead of him. For that–and for so flagrantly going against Homelander’s own direct order–you witnessed his downfall.

As far as he’s concerned now, everything happened precisely as it needed to. You’re in his arms now, and he’s still half hard from witnessing you choose fight when your instincts kicked in. You’re too fragile to choose it so readily. Your bones feel bird-like compared to the scope of his strength. Hollow and brittle. You would make for a hell of a supe, though.

Still, he won’t break you. He’s spent his entire life learning what it takes to snap bones like party favors, and more crucially, what it takes not to. Yours are safe from him. In fact, you’re the safest person in the whole world now.

Homelander glides down to a soft landing on your driveway. Your car will be an issue for another time. For now, he walks you to your front door before gently placing you on your feet.

“Believe this is you, young lady,” he says, leaving space for plausible deniability. If it occurs to you to interrogate him about it, it doesn’t show on your face. With hands still softly trembling, you fish your keys out of your purse. He watches you fumble with them for only a moment before he steps in behind you, one hand gripping your upper arm to steady and pause you while the other covers your shaking hand, helping you to slide the key into the lock and turn it.

Your hand fits nicely in his.

“Thanks,” you whisper. It’s the first thing you’ve said since asking him to take you home. He takes the liberty of opening the door for you while he’s at it, swinging it wide to allow you in. You grab his forearm, and he thinks you’re only balancing yourself, but when you don’t let go he steps with you, letting you lean on him as you guide him into your home. He closes the door behind the two of you, smiling to himself.

He may not need an invitation to enter, but it’s charming to have one.

Your movements are stiff, a slight limp to your gait. You fell hard, and the delicate flesh of your knee had ripped apart against the concrete when you were dragged. You hesitate at the stairs, but Homelander doesn’t. You inhale sharply when he scoops you back up into his arms with ease and starts up the stairs. He keeps his gaze ahead, but he can feel yours on him.

“Thanks,” you say again, the word barely more than a hiccup, adjusting his cape over yourself like a blanket.

“It’s what heroes are for.” He smiles. It’s a party line, one he’s said a hundred thousand times before, but you make him mean it. This is what heroes are for. To be worshiped and loved, understood deeper than pop stars and false idols like them. There’s a reverence in your stare that transcends the vapid starstruck way most people look at him. You understand now. You know how much more he is.

He brings you to your bedroom and sets you on the edge of the bed, adjusting his cape back up over your shoulders. You’ve scarcely let go of it since he wrapped you in it. Will you sleep with it tonight? He bets you will. The thought sends a pleasant tingle through him.

“Alright, let’s get a look at those knees,” he says, crouching in front of you. There’s blood running down your left shin. He lifts the edge of your skirt hem just enough to catch a glimpse of shredded skin. It looks rough, dirty and embedded with bits of debris. He blows out a breath. “Got a first aid kit?”

You nod numbly. “Under the bathroom sink.”

It’s odd to see you so subdued. He forgets sometimes that you humans can be as emotionally fragile as you are physically. Surely the death of two measly thugs isn’t enough to break you.

Rising, he moves to your bathroom. He feels slightly unbalanced without the sway of his cape behind him, the garment as integral to his physicality as any limb. He rummages through until his hand lands on a bright red fabric pack with a zipper. He gives it a little toss and catches it, bringing it back to you, alongside a wetted towel. He gives the pack a victorious little shake.

“H’okay, down to business.” Homelander kneels before you, splaying open the kit and placing it on your lap. He’s never used one of these before, but he’s pretended to do it on set. How different can it be? He cups your leg, thumb absently smoothing back and forth on your skin while he uses the towel to gently wipe up the blood, dirt and debris from your shin and knee.

You flinch, tense a moment before you relax. “Homelander, you really don’t have to–”

“Am I doing a bad job?” He asks, glancing up at you through his lashes. There’s a playful lilt to his voice.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” you say, the smallest hint of exasperation in your voice. He’s pleased to hear it. Perhaps you’re less wilted from the encounter than he thought. “I just mean that I can–”

“I know you can,” he says, and this time he definitely sees a flare of annoyance. You don’t like being interrupted any more than he does, but you don’t protest further. He smiles, triumphant, and focuses back on the task at hand, petting you the same way one might soothe a wild animal.

There’s a novelty in doing this for real that he hadn’t anticipated. It’s entirely unlike wiping away congealed red corn syrup from an actor. Your skin is sweeter, softer. He suddenly resents his gloves for the barrier they provide, despite his usual reliance for that very thing. He’s meticulous in flicking out the little stones embedded in your skin, spotting each one with ease.

Next, he tears open the alcohol wipes with his teeth and uses them to disinfect, rubbing at the sores. You flinch, sucking in a loud breath through your teeth. “Oopsy-daisy,” he says, switching to gently patting. He has no real concept of what you’re feeling right now. He’s never had a scraped knee before. The scientists at Vought had to get much more creative in order to gauge his capacity for healing.

He imagines they were disappointed to realize that, once damaged, he healed as slowly as a human.

“How’d you find me?” You ask, snapping him out of his unpleasant reminiscence. Your shock seems to have worn off entirely. You look more present, alert to his every move.

“Heard you scream,” he answers simply, unraveling a roll of gauze. That much is true.

“But how? How did you know where I was?” You push, watching him wind the white material around your knee.

“I didn’t,” he lies smoothly. He’s followed enough scripts in his life to do so very well. “If I’d known exactly where you were, I would have been there sooner. I was minding my business on 5th Avenue when I heard you. Familiar voices can…” He makes a vague gesture. “Cut through the din. Voices I want to hear.”

He thinks he catches you flush at that. Just a touch. He bites back a smirk, pleased with himself. Does it matter if it’s true when it makes you look at him like that?

“I didn’t know your hearing worked like that,” you say, fidgeting with the hem of his cape.

His gaze flickers up every so often to watch your finger pick at the seam, inexplicably charmed by it. “Well, there’s some things not even a super fan can glean,” he teases, securing the gauze with tape. He expects to see a familiar indignation in your expression, but when he looks up, he’s caught off guard by the unmistakable fondness in your eyes.

“I was over the moon when I got my job at Vought,” you say quietly, like you’re whispering in a confessional. “I always wanted to work with heroes.”

“With me?” He pushes, lifting his brows.

Very slightly, you smile. “Yeah. With you.”

“Busted,” he says, his own voice equally soft.

You give him a little nudge with your foot. “Gauze won’t stay by itself. Need to use a roll of self-adhesive wrap,” you say, plucking the beige roll from the kit. He likes the shy warmth in your voice. He would have done much worse to see this side of you. Have the intimacy of your pain, fear and relief all to himself. This glowing affection you’re so full of. He feels drunk on the cocktail of it all.

“Right, obviously,” he says, taking the wrapping from you. “I knew that.”

“Probably should have put a gauze pad under it, too,” you continue, eyes heavily lidded, expression soft.

“Everyone’s a critic,” he laments, affixing the textured bandage around the gauze. You laugh, and the sound of it feels like a space he could belong in.

He checks your other knee, your elbows and your palms, but nowhere else on you calls for anything more than some antiseptic and a few bandaids. With the wrappings secure, he shuffles the mess of supplies haphazardly back into the kit, zipping it up much more bulging and misshapen a state than he found it in. He pushes it under the bed with the towel atop it, standing.

“Good as new. Or close to it,” he says, making a small show of dusting off his hands for a job well done.

You stand, letting his cape slide off of your shoulders for the first time since he put it on you, the fabric pooling on the bed. You step forward, and of all the things he expects in this moment, you blow them out of the water by suddenly wrapping your arms around him, the soft curves of your body slotting against his in a way that trips something primal and needy in him. He puts his arms around you the second the shock wears off, holding you with the barest fraction of his strength.

Tension drains from your body. Were you nervous he wouldn’t reciprocate? It’s an endearing thought. He gives a deeper, brief squeeze. He can’t remember the last time someone held him.

“Thank you,” you say after a long beat, drawing back. He reluctantly loosens his grip, but not by much. He’s loath to relinquish you so soon after he’s gotten hold of you. “It’s not enough, but I don’t know what could ever be.”

I could make a few suggestions, he thinks, but he doesn’t give voice to the lewd thoughts that follow.

“I’ll never forget what you did for me tonight,” you say. Your face is so near to his, it makes it difficult to focus on anything other than the curve of your lips as you speak.

Instead of responding, Homelander leans in, eyes falling shut.

“Oh,” you say sharply, your soft body suddenly going tense in his arms, stopping him in his tracks. Both of your hands are braced against his chest now, creating a distance that feels craterous.

He blinks, brows furrowed in confusion. “What?”

“I’m really tired,” you say, tone shifting to mild diffusion. It reminds him of the way you spoke to James, and his ego stings with both the rejection and the comparison. He’d laughed listening to you reject that pathetic, simpering man. It seems less funny now.

He scoffs an incredulous little huff. But I saved you, he thinks, indignant panic flaring in his chest. To his dismay, however, the thought doesn’t sound like his own voice. It sounds like James’.

But I paid!

Repulsed, Homelander swallows the thought like bile. If the comparison comes so readily to his own mind, there’s no way you won’t make the connection yourself. He feels his skin prickle like there are fire ants crawling beneath his suit. The memory of James’ pathetic begging is the only thing that keeps his composure together.

“Of course you are,” he says tightly. His smile is forced, slightly too wide. “You should sleep. Rest up. Take the day off tomorrow,” he says stiffly, rattling off lines like they’re pre-recorded. Only then does he surrender his hold on you, hands moving to his hips instead. You take a step back, and he stands straighter to disguise the sting of rejection.

“Thank you,” you say, tone indecipherable. It’s full to the brim with something, but nothing Homelander can parse in his current state. “I–”

“No need,” he dismisses, jumping on the opportunity to end the conversation on his terms. “Really. Just doing my job,” he says, tossing you a little two-finger salute off of his brow, already moving towards your balcony door. You don’t move, watching him from the foot of your bed, arms wrapped around yourself.

“Catch you at the office,” he says. He knows he’s speaking too quickly, but it’s all he can do to keep himself in check. Anger and misery broil in him like vinegar and baking soda, the caustic brew threatening to erupt.

“Okay,” you say, which isn’t particularly what he wants to hear. He turns his back to you, and his smile drops, his ego violently stung. With a force that billows wind through your bedroom, he takes off into the night sky.

You just weren’t ready, he tells himself, gritting his teeth. It’s easier to be angry than embarrassed. He wants to make as much distance between himself and your rejection, flying higher and higher until frost begins collecting on his lashes. He flies until there’s no sound, no oxygen, no life but his own. He flies until gravity releases him and he can finally relax, suspended by cold, vast space.

The earth glows beneath him, reflecting the light of the sun where it illuminates a distant portion of the globe.

Closing his eyes, he tips his head back.

He’ll fix this.

( chapter four )

#heavy breathing #icb i actually did it #tysm to everyone who let me scream and cry at them about this fic as i wrestled nonstop with it #homelander x you #homelander x reader #x reader #homelander fanfiction #yandere x reader #my writing

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2-dsimp · 6 days

Note

What if Lynx was with a fem harpy!reader and he found out she had taken in a lone egg? Kinda wanna see his reaction to that...

『Featuring your yandere Harpy getting rid of unwanted competition』

——;———;——-

Cw: Territorial Lynx, HEAVY angst, violence, gore, no adopting eggs for you since it’s gotta be his baby chick and his alone.

——;———;——-

The famous pop star is always so attentive when it comes to his mates needs. He’ll shower you in expensive gifts and luxury items to show his affection. And preens in delight at seeing how you hoarded said presents within your precious nest.

But one day while perching upon your resting spot he saw an egg. An egg that wasn’t his nor yours laying upon your silken covered nest. And the harpy’s plumage spiked up in an alarming manner, his eyes dialated with a snarl breaking from his lips. Bristling as he stalked towards the innocent hatchling that’s yet to be introduced into the world.

Lynx’s instincts are going haywire since this could only mean that you’ve adopted this lonesome orphan. But that can’t be right, if you wanted eggs he could’ve easily made it so you could pop out a whole batch from his heartfelt efforts alone. Maybe you were too shy to ask which is why you had this parasite invading your, his home with you in the first place.

Well no matter, it’s no use to dwell on it since the infestation will be gone out of sight and out of mind. Raising his sharp talons he stared down at the egg for a moment. An empty emotionless expression crossing his otherwise bright features.

“Sorry buddy but there’s no room for you and my chicks to coexist. Blame your mother who’ve abandoned you for this”

Before abruptly curbstomping it indefinitely ending the hatchlings life prematurely. Hearing the egg crack and crumble alongside the squishy feeling of the stillborn vermin crush in between his taloned feet.

This has to be done, for all you know it could’ve been a cuckoo egg. So he was doing you a favor saving you from being taken for granted. And you were his mate, so you shouldn’t even have been showing away another egg that’s not his.

But being the generous person he was he’ll forgive you. After all you’re his precious muse.

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jokingmisfit · 3 months

Text

Never Again.

Platonic Yandere Metal Family x Reader

Prompt- “It’s midnight! Where the hell were you?”

Notes- Reader is Dee’s twin. No gender mentioned that I remember. Heavy is 13 as in canon and Reader and Dee are 16

Warnings- Reader is injured, Reader was stabbed, Victoria yells at reader, Victoria and Heavy torture people in the living room but we don't talk about that, reader is scared of being seen as weak

The red head ranted and threw items across the room. You didn't pay much mind to the words because you knew whatever you answered wouldn't matter.

Finally the woman, your mother, hovered over you fuming. “It's fucking midnight! Where the hell were you?! Huh?!” She looked expectantly while crossing her arms.

The floor seemed more interesting than the anger or at least that's what you pretended was the case.

“I lost track of time at the library, that's all.” You exasperated.

Finally your father who stayed quiet spoke up. A menacing smile and a tilt to his head. “The library closes at 9.”

Sighing you look up. “I'm friends with the librarians kid she let's us stay as long as we stay in one spot and keep it clean… Normally she let's is know when it's closing time but she got busy and we all forgot.”

“Heh, and you expect us to actually believe you?” Your mom sneered.

“Why wouldn't you?” You asked nervously. “I've never done anything like this, I don't skip school, or get in trouble, or talk back… I made a mistake and I'm sorry.” Your hands shook lightly as you held yourself up. Only glancing at your parents as the seem to boil.

Nothing you said seemed to matter though as you spent the next hour be berated by both your mom and dad. On top you're grounded. 2 weeks. School then home then school then home. Nothing else, nothing more.

It was 1:13 when you finally got back to your room. It didn't make much sense to you how your twin or little brother acted out but you do something wrong once and you get banned from living a life.

At least they didn't find out the truth. Maybe they knew you were lying and that's why they really punished you, but it didn't matter as long as they didn't know what really happened.

Because what really happened will haunt you, and you refuse to let them know how weak you truly are. You would always pride yourself in being independent. While Dee and Heavy leaned on their parents you distanced yourself from them.

You had a job, you had good grades, and as long as no one noticed, you had good health

But of course that's what the big problem was. Bruises from where the men hit you rose across your body. And blood spilled onto your clothes where they slashed at you. The room was dark and your parents didn't see anything, but there were bruises forming on your face.

You were exhausted and you knew if you went to sleep now you might be woken by someone else and they'd see the mess that's been made of you.

You laid for 2 hours in that alley. That's enough sleep right?

Dee opens your door and slinks into your room. He thought you were pouting. He knew you got into trouble last night, but didn't expect what he saw.

If only you could have stayed up.

~~~~~~

You were sitting slouched on the floor book loose in your grip. You had tried staying up, but it clearly didn’t work. Bruises dispersed against your wrists, arms and face. Your tanktop bunched up slightly by your slumped form showing off the bandages delicately wrapped around your midsection.

Dee had made a decision at that moment to let you rest and to figure out what the hell happened to you.

You woke up to chaos. Your eyes were still heavy and blurry. The noises still didn’t quite reach your ears yet. It was the warm palm on your face that had you trying to wake yourself up. Your body was weighed down with pain.

Blinking quickly, large blue eyes and a frown were the first thing you were met with. “Dad?” you choked out, “What- what you doing?”

Your throat burned slightly, but it was nothing compared to the pain in your side. You couldn’t comprehend the fear of your family finding out what happened, you were too drained, too hurt.

“I’m putting you in your bed. You fell asleep on the floor.” Your father says smoothly.

It was disturbing hearing this voice so early. His normal pitch was lowered several octaves and his smile was nowhere to be seen.

You tried to help by standing, but you were quickly tutted and moved into his arms. Of course you wanted to try, you still didn’t want to seem useless. It was concerning, you could hear your mother hollering in the background.

The worry was overwhelming. Was she angry with you or what happened? Will this change how they see you forever? Are they disappointed? What were you supposed to say?

Breathing deeply you were still held to your dads chest. It took a moment to realize he was in the bed with you. Holding you close to him as you lay on your non injured side.

“What’s happening?” you rasped out. As nice as it was to be held, your mom was upset and he should be with her.

Your dad let out a breath. “Your mother is taking care of some things while I take care of you.”

Humming acknowledgement to him you rested your eyes again.

Of course Glam kept it simple. He didn’t need to tell you he already stitched your side. He didn’t need to tell you that Dee hacked the library cameras and found the men who hurt you, or that the “things” Victoria was dealing with were the men that harmed you. He didn’t need to tell you that Heavy was so upset that he offered to help Victoria deal with these men. He also didn’t need to tell you that Dee was handing in the paperwork to the school for you to be homeschooled and a letter telling the librarian you won’t be coming back.

All you needed to know was you were safe.

And you’ll stay safe no matter what your family has to do. This will never happen again.

#metal family x reader #yandere metal family #platonic metal family x reader #platonic glam x reader #platonic dee x reader #platonic heavy x reader #platonic Vicky x reader #yandere metal family x reader

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yandere-metal-family · 3 months

Note

Could you do something with heavy? I don’t really know what he’s just my favorite and there’s not much for him.

Of course!!!! I have tons of other requests, but I love Heavy so much, because he's a sweetheart and you're right there isn't much for him, because people only like Dee >:( So, for you here are some headcanons!

youtube

He had made a stupid joke during a lecture [Probably one making fun of the teacher] and you had laughed, causing you both to land in detention

You didn't know each other very well. The only words exchanged were him asking you for a pencil or a piece of paper because he didn't have any

So, the two of you were only acquainted as peers/classmates, but now you had made him a sworn enemy in your mind. You had never been in trouble before, but now here you were, sitting in Detention over a joke that wasn't even that funny

He kept turning towards you to get a look at you. You were giving him a death glare and it kind of freaked him out

He had a crush on you, so he was a little disappointed that you now seemed to dislike him

Tries talking to you next day, but you completely ignored him. He had ruined your good reputation and you were mad

Wants to prove that he's a good guy, so he'll try and get you something you'll like to apologize

Being a class clown is the only thing he really has going for him, so for you to not like the one thing is good at, well it bothers him

He eventually invites you over, which you reluctantly agree to, to maybe try and get on your good side

You notice he has a guitar and asks if he plays

His face practically lights up. He was practically a prodigy when it came to music

"Yes! Yes I do," He quickly stands up and goes to his guitar, before sitting on the edge of his bed and looking at you

You stare back, confused, wondering why he's staring at you

"Do you want me to play a specific song?"

"Oh!" Your face lights up, "Ummm... Do you know Perfect Girl?"

He doesn't but he doesn't want to say that. He just shakes his head, "Yeah, let me look it up, so I can get the chords."

You're impressed by his abilities and Heavy is practically shining with pride

You keep popping out songs and he plays each one relatively well

You click over your enjoyment for music

He's just happy to please you and finally be friends

#metal family #yandere metal family #metal family x reader #yandere metal family x reader #yandere heavy x reader #yandere heavy #heavy x reader #metal family heavy #heavy #heavy schvagenbagen

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5eraphim · 1 year

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yandere alphabet for demoman or heavy would be perfect 💕💕 your medic hcs are amazing!! preferably f!reader. have a good day!!

I am so sorry this took me forever to respond to! I originally wanted to write for both Heavy and Demo, and I'm so sorry for letting you down if you were really looing foreword to them both, but I kept pushing this back and I needed to get this out before it sat in the W.I.Ps folder forever. I'll still do this for Demo if anyone wants to see it, but here's Heavy in the meantime! Thank you So much for the request, and for your patience anon, I hope you enjoy!

(Medic's Alphabet here)

Character: The Heavy 🐻 (Team Fortress 2)

Trigger Warnings: Yandere themes (obviously), toxic relationship dynamics

Rating: T

Word Count: 2.6k

Requests are currently open <3

Attachment, how do they become obsessed?

Heavy is the definition of hard on the outside and soft on the inside for those he loves. In general, he's very attracted to people who want to get to know him better and don't write him off as a brainless brute. As well as people who are likewise misunderstood in their own way. He's usually somewhat reserved around new people, but seeing you, someone so much smaller than himself, struggling, he can't help but feel himself soften up and offer to help and is somewhat flustered by your gratitude. Nothing better than feeling helpful to those he loves, a simple ambition, but a powerful one, nonetheless.

Brutality, how vicious can they be towards a rival?

While he may have a soft heart, this doesn't make this exterior any less threatening, and he is more than ready to use this to his advantage. He knows how most people see him, and if that means he can use it to keep other people away from you, all the better. If you were to become suspicious of his actions, he could easily prevent you from grilling him on it by playing the "You don't hate me, like the rest of them, do you?" card. He may feel remorse over lying to you like this, but if it means keeping his comrades away from you, it's all worth it.

Caring, how well do they take care of their obsession?

Very similar to how he cares for the rest of his family, his foremost concern is your physical health and wellbeing before he bothers with his own in exchange for companionship. Though, if you offered to dote on him in private, he would never turn you away. While he may be apprehensive about being cared for in front of others, it can be sweet and intimate if shared just between you.

Depraved, do they have a shrine? (If so, what's on it?)

Tough to say for sure. Heavy's known to detest others touching his things and is likely paranoid about others finding his collection or messing with it. Also, Heavy isn't really the type to steal from you. It's one of the few times his guilt would get the best of him in a situation like this. But if you were to give him something, no matter how small, he would treasure it forever. Heavy believes it's better to share things with you rather than steal what you discard. However, little handwritten notes he can conceal and carry on himself are his favorites.

Erratic, how unpredictable are they? How quickly are their mood changes?

Wildly rides the line between a tender, soft, and misunderstood soul who only wants to protect and a kill-crazy war machine ready to enact violence at the drop of a hat. Unfortunately, given his remarkably stony exterior, it only makes him all the harder to get a read on. Fortunately, Heavy isn't the type to change drastically depending on the hour, but more likely will enter several days-long periods of sullenness followed by levity. It only takes one of his truly bad days to make you fear him.

Fun, what do they do to keep their obsession entertained?

Overall, given how physically demanding his job is, if he does have downtime to spend with you, Heavy would prefer to do something more relaxing, something he doesn't need to exert himself much for. However, if you were interested in learning some of his native tongue, he would love to teach you! He would also love to teach you how to properly clean some of his weapons and wants you to know how much he trusts you by allowing you to touch his guns. He may not be able to use his Ph.D. in Russian literature in his job, but it would mean the world to him if you let him read some of his favorite stories aloud while you listened.

Good, do they reward their lover for good behavior?

Heavy is all about tough love, but he's also happy to reward good behavior when he sees it. He also knows it's essential to keep you disciplined to keep you from getting too comfortable or thinking you're the one in charge here. Heavy's big brother instincts usually tell him what to do in situations like this, and he's generally fair about treating you to some time alone if you'd been well-behaved in his company before now.

Hysterical, how quickly would their facade break?

It would take a long time for you to realize precisely how lovesick he really was. After all, Heavy never seemed to have much interest in romance, at least in comparison to his other priorities. Additionally, any of his hostility towards other close friends of yours could be misconstrued as his general icy demeanor. He'd have to be very direct and upfront for you to eventually catch onto why he acted so strangely around you. In other words, while you always knew Heavy was a strange guy, it wouldn't be until it was too late for you to know just how deranged he really was.

Intimate, how intimate are they with their obsession?

Heavy does enjoy expressing affection physically and receiving in kind. More in an innocent sense than anything else, his preferred intimacy mode lies in hand-holding or cuddling up. He really loves knowing he can keep you warm when you are cold and keep you safe and sound when you sleep. Something small like this can calm him down after going too long without seeing you or if he suspected you were up to something.

Jealous, what makes them the most jealous?

Heavy isn't nearly as suspicious as many other yanderes, nor is he the type to worry about you leading him on, though he's far from perfect. Heavy can act very childish and petty when he sees you spending more time with his comrades or if he worries you care more about them than him. He wants to believe he has nothing to worry about, but it's hard not to get competitive around others. Hates to see you asking other people for help before asking him, no matter how trivial the task.

Kindness, so they think what they're doing is kindness?

Completely. Heavy is very confident in his place as the most competent and the best man suited to be your protector, and he knows what he is doing, whether you want to admit it or not, is well within your best interest. Even if you were to try and convince him what he was doing to you hurt you, or if you were to beg for him to let you go, Heavy simply wouldn't understand what you mean and wouldn't falter in what he believes to be his vital obligations to you.

Lust, what is the most beautiful thing about their obsession?

In truth, Heavy may be a bit sheepish in thinking of you lustfully, at least in the way some other yandere might. Mostly because he wants to preserve this idea of you as this innocent, sweet little thing to protect, and if he were to defile you in thought, that could be just as immoral as violating you in person. Though, if he's brutally honest with himself, Heavy's always had a thing for a size difference, and he can't hide how his heart flutters when you curl up beside him or if you hold his hand. (You know when a little child holds their parent's hand and can only wrap their little hand around one of the grown-up's fingers? That is the kind of thing that causes Heavy to absolutely MELT.) From his perspective, he loves the way you look so small beside him and knowing how the two of you appear to others.

Makeout, what are their kisses like?

Bless his heart, Heavy is doing his best to come off as sweet, romantic, and desirable, but he simply can't help but come off a little, well, heavy-handed. It takes a lot to psyche himself up for moments like this, and it's hard for him to hide this! He'd need constant reassurance that what he was doing felt good, and even then couldn't help but come off a bit stiff and awkward. Primarily due to lack of experience, he would constantly worry if he's making you feel undesirable because of his nervousness. However, he loves when you two can rest together, your head against his broad chest, his arms wrapped around you, practically smothering you while you trail soft kisses along his neck and cheek.

Never; what is one thing they would never do to their obsession?

While He would like to think he would never hurt you physically, sometimes his raw strength can get the best of him, and Heavy may just forget he's not on the battlefield. Although Heavy would say that no matter how enraged he may be in any given situation, he would never lay a hand on you, this may not be true. Though this only extends to the very, very rare outburst of anger, Heavy would never dream of using one of his weapons on you. He wants to see himself as your benevolent protector, and it's only at times like this he might forget himself.

Outrage, what makes them furious?

In Heavy's mind, your place is waiting for him back home, and if he were to hear about you putting yourself in harm's way, no matter how justified you may think you are, he would be beyond furious. Not only is this insanely dangerous behavior on your part, but he also worries about you not seeing him as good enough to be your guardian. While he may see himself as the only one strong enough to protect you, he doesn't like to be challenged on this front and will ensure all threats to his position are eliminated.

Pleasure, what is something they love making their obsession do?

Again, related to his significant size kink, Heat can't get enough of holding you close to him. Tucking you under his chin, close to his chest, when he falls asleep? Heaven on earth, and nothing less. Hope you weren't planning on going anywhere while he was resting because Heavy is notorious for his vice grip even in sleep, and you aren't going anywhere until he lets you go. No one gives hugs like Heavy, and you'd have to be crazy to risk waking him up to escape one, not that he rouses readily anyhow.

Quick, how quick are they to figure out escape plans?

Sure, Heavy may not be the brightest, and he's far from the most emotionally intelligent, but when it comes to the people he loves most, he's hypervigilant. And he's much quicker than you'd think to pick up on any of your changes in behavior and what they might entail than you'd think. Not to say he has a suspicious nature, but the better he knows someone, the better he can read them. Unfortunately, it's a skill many fail to see in him until it's too late.

Romantic, how romantic can they be or try to be?

Heavy will try, and he'll do his best regarding just about anything when it comes to you, but unfortunately, emotional intelligence isn't something that comes easily to him. Though this is certainly something that can be improved over time, as Heavy feels more comfortable around you, the easier it will be for him to express himself and understand your needs in kind. He's more the type to see romance in small, mundane acts, little parts of everyday life, rather than grand gestures or dramatic displays of affection.

Self-indulgent, how possessive are they, if at all?

Much more physically possessive than he might realize. As mentioned before, he's very uncritical about his yandere behavior and tendencies. He doesn't worry about how you may begin to grow fearful over spending time alone with him or question the way he seems to follow you wherever you go, and he doesn't see any of this as self-centered as long as you're kept safe. He might even try to convince you this is a good thing. After all, who wouldn't want the strongest fighter on base as their own personal bodyguard?

Trust, how much information about themself would they grant their obsession?

More So than most. Heavy is a straightforward man, and he doesn't see the need to overcomplicate life by keeping secrets or by wondering who has ulterior motives going for them at what given time. He finds it's easier to let himself believe you are as kind, loyal, and loving as he wants to think and not worry about anything beyond that. Not to say he would tell you precisely what happened to the last guy who tried to ask you out on a date, but he wouldn't lie if you asked how he felt about you.

Unattractive, what is their most unattractive trait besides being a yandere?

Heavy can be very childishly cruel and petty when fighting with others. Off the battlefield, he can be hard-headed and undignified when dealing with personal problems or with other people. Overall, he's never found working with others to be his strong suit.

Viscous, how viscous can they get?

Completely and without mercy or remorse. While he may see you as his angel and the light in his life, which makes the hardships worth enduring, it only makes the cruelty and bloodshed in your name all the more rewarding and satisfying. You might wonder if he's using this infatuation with you as an excuse to be cruel to others, though you ought to know better than to ask him about this face-to-face.

Weakness, what is something they can't resist?

Nothing hurts more than choosing between his loved ones. His loyalties to you and his blood relatives are unmated. He would do anything to ensure everyone was safe and sound. If he is worried someone is conspiring against any of you, Heavy will not hesitate to obliterate the possible danger at all costs. Heavy doesn't care if this means risking his own safety or that of others. All that matters to him is the people he cares for the most live to see another day.

Xenodochial, how fast would their obsession cut them off after an escape?

It would be hard for you to cut him off entirely. Despite all you'd been through and all the misery he'd brought your way, it's tough for you to believe Heavy is a bad guy. He's done so much for the people he loves and would do anything to support you. How could you cut him off so coldly? Especially considering without his help, his mother and sisters would've died in the Gulag. It would be tough for you to reconcile with yourself over doing something you know would destroy a man who did so much good for so many others, and if anything were to happen to them because he wasn't there to protect them. Could you deal with the fact their blood was now partially on your hands?

Yearning, how much do they pine for their obsession?

While Heavy adores you, it's hard to say he's the pining type, not due to a lack of love, but more considering he's a rather blunt, upfront kind of person. If he loves you so much he can't get you out of his head, why not just go up and tell you how he feels? Why bother playing mind games like this and longing from afar? The only times he would find himself pining for you would be because of the lack of nerve to tell you how he felt, not from a desire to love from afar.

Zealous, how devoted to their darling are they?

You are absolutely one of his greatest motivators. It's only natural after Heavy's been forced to endure much pain and misery. How could he not do everything possible to protect the little love and happiness he finds in life? Surely you weren't so heartless as to fault him for that?

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