FEATURING : homelander , the deep , a train , starlight , black noir i , black noir ii , stormfront , queen maeve , firecracker , sister sage .
— reader has been a supe for a long time, reader has met all of the supes above, reader does not have ‘zuko’, reader was exploited/groomed (referring to azula’s past with her father) at a young age just like everyone else, readers appearence is not stated, reader is gender neutral but made with female readers in mind 🫶
homelander, at first, sees himself in you. he thinks that you two can relate. but thats only at the start. more time you two spend together the more you irritate him. how can you not be scared? he is america’s best so why dont you fear him? there are times where he wants to kill you himself but he cant. as irritating as you are, you’re still useful. formidable.
best part about you is that you dont lie to him like everyone else does. you merely just distort the truth. its a good asset against enemys, but he hates it when that same distortion is placed upon him.
queen maeve doesn’t interact with you as much, its not that she hates you. she just doesnt like the supe industry, overall. maeve sees how easily you walk over people like ashley and the deep, she has taken notice of the perfectionist inside of you. somehow, she hasnt said anything about it despite you criticizing her for her alcholism every now and then. to you? it shows her disgust lack of self control.
stormfront really liked you, appearance aside. she liked the ‘fire’ (no pun intended). the way you carried yourself, your confidence, your power. what really upset her was how you were more focused on voughts hirearchy rather than her own ideologies. if you shared her mind you’d be absolutely perfect. though, her internet obsession is a little very strange to you.
a good friend of yours would be black noir i , the silence is comforting after all. he does not fear you, nor does he like you. you’ll talk to him and notice the subtle squeeze of his hand. this amuses you. theres not much more to say about him.
when it comes to the fastest man alive, it seems like you already know everything. a-train knows you know about all the shit that went on with popclaw, his past addiction to the v. you mentioned it from time to time just for the sake of getting a rise out of him. everytime a word comes out of your mouth, he holds his breath.
like a leech, the deep was all over you first time you two met. he tried all of his pathetic advances only to get a burning hot blast nearly hit his face. from there did he realize that you had no interest. the idiot didn’t even recognize the fact that you missed on purpose, he assumed he was lucky and dodged it in time. definitely calls you a bitch behind your back while simultaneously shivering at the sound of your voice.
starlight is your personal favorite, you love to pull her into the hallways and whisper all the horrible things you could do to hughie if she doesnt play along. she cant believe how a person can be so horrible. homelander grew up in a lab, so what was your excuse? after all, you always denied any sort of trauma everytime she tried to one up you.
the moment he walked into the room, you immediately knew this wasnt the original. black noir ii irritated you. you’ve complained often about his narcolepsy, not caring about him not being able to control it. you also made references to his acting side hustle just to see the tense change in his positure. it was entertaining for you. you happened to be one of the many people that told him to shut up whenever he spoke.
firecracker was a bit jealous. she often compared her abilities to your own, completely ignoring the vast power gap. she relies on truthbomb, her conspiracies were so stupid it was funny. safe to say that she did not like you at all. you weren’t afraid to point out her insecurities and refer to her past as ‘sparkler’.
the only person who could see right through you was none other than the smartest person in the world, sister sage. once sage first met you, she instantly knew you were just a spoiled little child that was groomed into being that way by all the adults around you. you hated that. she knew you were smart, but definitely not as smart as her. obviously.
wow hah i love ts. zuko!reader with the boys next probably idk yay. i want ice cream sobs. im too lazy to add all the tags. i constantly reread this and edit it. im dyslexic guys im sorry. also i wrote this originally at 2am
FEATURING : the deep / kevin moskowitz , a-train / reggie franklin , starlight / annie january , firecracker / misty tucker gray .
THE DEEP - KEVIN MOSKOWITZ :
this man has NO sense of tmi whatsoever, if he’s thinking about something he will say it out loud no matter what.
he probably has undiagnosed dyslexia and gets really offended if someone asks him if he has it because he assumes they’re indirectly calling him stupid.
laughs at his own jokes before telling them.
always asks someone else on their opinion on something before developing his own.
really bad at card/board games, you will be catching this guy looking over your shoulder and cheating during a game of uno.
cannot take care of anything for the life of him, has probably killed a bunch of house plants from overwatering.
A-TRAIN - REGGIE FRANKLIN :
he probably doesnt like sharing his food, traumatized from the ‘just one bite’ trick from his older brother where one bite turns into half of it missing.
takes cold foods/drinks way too fast and ends up getting really bad brain freeze. when is comes to hot foods, he burns his tongue because hes too impatient to wait.
was really scared of cussing when he was younger because his brother would snitch to his parents and get his ass beat, only ever curses under his breath/in whispers.
really bad at making friends, he can contribute to a conversation but can’t continue or start one.
STARLIGHT - ANNIE JANUARY :
used to hide bugs in the bags of other pagent contestants when she was younger to sabatoge them.
^^ sent long apology paragraphs to all the girls she could remember once she was older (firecracker was not one of them, sobs)
used to have a bad habit of biting her nails.
hates keeping her hair down, doesnt like having it in her face 24/7…
probably really good in english and math at school, every teacher loved her.
FIRECRACKER - MISTY T. GRAY :
was one of starlights bug victims, also just so happens to be terrified of bugs. refers to them as ‘gross creepy crawly things’.
cant shut up during movies, will talk the entire time during a film in a cinema.
actually really enjoys dark chocolate, conspires that white chocolate is the cause of 20% of the world’s diseases.
probably was way more open minded as a child. dated someone that was the spawn of hell and she never recovered from ther ideologies…
cant tell if she’s yelling or not, naturally has a loud voice.
are some of these headcanons just me projecting onto my favorites? maybe….dontr judge……not really x reader but oh well. i have one x reader kevin short and one reggie short up coming anyways so. hah first post kinda nervous. who fw me #curious
A/N: first post in a long while!! so sorry if this is ooc, i tried my best. gonna rewatch the show and hopefully i’ll get some fic ideas. let me know if you have any or any tips to improve the characterization. i love u all mwah x
𝖉𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖉𝖊𝖊𝖕 𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖈𝖆𝖓𝖔𝖓𝖘
♡ it is certainly not your intention to be won over by this man, nor is it his intention to win you over. (not at first.)
♡ it starts off like it does working with most of the seven. he’s cocky and ignores you, only wanting your feedback if it’s positive.
♡ he does not respect you. he’s gloating to you constantly, he doesn’t care about disrupting your work or inconveniencing you, and he does not spare your feelings at all. he will blatantly tell you if he finds you attractive or not completely out of the blue. his misogynistic and borderline creepy remarks are a constant.
♡ this guy has a tier list of the most ‘smashable’ employees ranked by his preferences. he is not interested in romance in the slightest. not outwardly at least. deep down he craves affection and acceptance, but he doesn’t believe he’s capable of receiving that. not from humans at least. he does all he can to bury that desire— after all, that’s **so** not manly of him. what would homelander think? homelander wouldn’t tolerate a needy pathetic loverboy. the seven needs ruthlessness! besides, he’s got all the money, fame, and chicks at his feet that he could ask for.
♡ the more time you spend working with him (or trying to… he’s infamously terrible to work with) he becomes increasingly more annoying, trying and failing to hide the fact that he’s genuinely desperate for your approval. if you give him even the slightest bit, he is greedy. like a stray dog being fed scraps, he always returns, more eager than the last time.
♡ he’ll try to play it off by saying that you work together and you haven’t quit or been fired yet so it only makes sense to get to know you, but he’s around you wayyyy more than the job requires him to be.
♡ he knows you probably only listen to his rants because you have to, but he’s happy that you’re listening regardless. the others just walk away or shut him down.
♡ with all the random sea knowledge he has, you can’t help but gradually become interested. for someone so shockingly stupid, he sure is knowledgeable and passionate about this one subject.
♡ it’s strangely endearing to you how when you begin to ask questions and remember his sea friends that his face lights up with delight. when he’s not being gross, he’s actually kinda pleasant to be around.
♡ once you’ve shown him that you somewhat listen to him, he’s already attached himself to you. he’s searching for you in the building. he’s showing off in front of you. he’s begging you to meet his sea friends or come with him to the pool so you can watch his new trick (and you better clap and tell him good job or his mood instantly drops. if he doesn’t get visible or verbal approval, if not both, he has failed you and is overthinking it with all 3 of his functioning brain cells)
♡ he has to show you his aquarium and do a formal introduction for every single specimen that’s in there. and you best believe he had a long talk with them prior about what he should do and say to woo you.
♡ he likes to give you things. a pretty shell he found. a sand dollar. he will take you to the beach and make the sea creatures perform a spectacle for you. he’s very into gift giving, acts of service and quality time.
♡ once you agree to date him, he is ecstatic. everybody has to know. he’s going around the tower, forcing you along and embarrassing you by proudly announcing to everyone that he has a hot partner and you match his freak his so well. he’s probably gonna get clowned later, you can already tell, but it’s a sweet gesture and you’re glad he’s so devoted.
♡ he is intensely jealous. you better not speak to any other guy for too long or he will become insecure. you need to constantly tell him that you love him and he’s handsome and he’s doing great. he won’t ask directly, but he’ll hint at it so much that it becomes routine for you.
♡ he’ll try to stand up for you. no one else is gonna give you crap. he’s gonna find a way to make someone else do your work so you can follow him around all day.
♡ when you start dating him, you help him fall in line, which makes homelander slightly less hostile to you. if he has an issue with deep, he’s telling you and he fully expects you to fix it. for some reason things only stick in deep’s head if they come from your mouth. plus, you keep deep occupied and away from him. if homelander could make connections, you’d be his favorite person, too, for getting deep out of his sight.
♡ despite all that he’s done, you have the power to make him a better man, and you do. he truly loves you. :)
i saw that you were taking reqs for the boys and i have this like very vague concept of a deep x reader fic where the reader is a marine biologist and idk i think itd be cute😭😭 idk tho!
~♡ꜝꜞ ❝ 𝒲onderful ❞
────── · · The Deep x fem ! marine biologist ! reader
a / n : more content for this pathetic little thing
character/s featured. kevin moskowitz/the deep .ᐟ
rating: fluff.ᐟ
requesting rules. masterlist.
The fluorescent lights of Vought Tower's marine research wing hummed with their characteristic sterile buzz, a sound that had become as familiar to you as your own heartbeat over the past eight months. You were bent over a stainless steel examination table, your brow furrowed in concentration as you carefully documented the tissue samples from a rescued harbor seal that had been found entangled in fishing nets off the coast of Maine.
Your lab coat was slightly too big, the sleeves rolled up to your elbows to reveal the delicate silver bracelet your grandmother had given you. Your hair was pulled back in a messy but functional ponytail, a few stubborn strands escaping to frame your face. You were so absorbed in your work that you didn't hear the distinctive wet footsteps approaching from behind.
"Whatcha doin'?"
The voice was impossibly close, right next to your ear, and you startled so violently that your pen went skittering across the table. You spun around, hand pressed to your chest, to find Kevin Moskowitz—The Deep—standing approximately three inches from your personal space, his head tilted at that particular angle that made him look like a confused golden retriever.
"Kevin!" You laughed, the sound genuine and warm despite your racing heart. "You scared me half to death. I thought I locked that door."
"I have a key, remember?" he said, dangling the key in his hand before putting it on the desk. His voice had that particular quality it always got around you: slightly higher pitched, slightly breathless, like he was perpetually on the verge of saying something important and forgetting what it was.
"Of course you do," you said, shaking your head with an affectionate smile. "Because knocking on the door like a normal person is apparently beneath you."
Kevin's face split into that goofy, wide grin that made him look approximately twelve years old, despite being a grown man in his thirties. His eyes, those big, earnest, eyes, were fixed on you with an intensity that would have been unsettling coming from anyone else.
"I wanted to see you," he said simply, as if that explained everything. "I was talking to the fish on my room's tank and they said you were down here working late again and I thought- I thought maybe you'd want company? I can be good company. I'm excellent company, actually. I've been told I'm like, top-tier company. Right up there with, you know, penguins. Penguins are great company. Very social creatures. Not that I'm comparing myself to penguins, because I'm obviously a human, but also-" He was rambling now, his words tumbling out faster and faster as he seemed to realize he was making no sense. "I brought you something."
He held out his hand, and you noticed for the first time that he was clutching something in his palm. It was a small, perfect scallop shell, its surface gleaming with an iridescent sheen that caught the fluorescent light and scattered it into rainbows.
"Oh, Kevin!" you breathed, reaching out to take it from him. Your fingers brushed against his, and you watched with fascination as a visible shiver ran through his entire body. "It's beautiful. Where did you get this?"
"Found it," he said, puffing up slightly with pride. "Down in the deep part. The really deep part. Like, deep deep. Where it's all dark and creepy and stuff. I was talking to some anglerfish, they're honestly such gossips, you wouldn't believe, and I saw it just sitting there on the ocean floor and I thought of you."
"You thought of me?" you repeated, turning the shell over in your hands. It really was exquisite, the ridges perfectly formed, the colors shifting from pearl to lavender to deep rose.
"Yeah," he said, and there was something almost vulnerable in his voice now. "I kinda always think of you when I see these type of things, like- pretty things, i mean."
Your heart did a little flutter. It was such a sincere, uncalculated compliment, the kind Kevin gave without even seeming to realize he was giving it. In the months since you'd been assigned to Vought's marine research division, you'd grown increasingly fond of the strange, awkward, deeply insecure man who seemed to have latched onto you with the desperate intensity of a barnacle.
"I'll treasure it," you said, and meant it. "Thank you, Kevin. That's really sweet."
He beamed at you, practically vibrating with pleasure at your approval. Then, as if unable to help himself, he stepped even closer, his body angling toward yours in a way that was almost, but not quite, invasive.
"You know," he said, lowering his voice conspiratorially, "I could show you where I found it sometime. Take you down there. It's really beautiful once your eyes adjust to the dark. And I'd keep you safe, obviously. Nothing would hurt you while I'm around. I'd make sure of it. I'd—I'd protect you from everything. Every shark, every giant squid, every-"
"Kevin." you interrupted gently, touching his arm. "That's very sweet, but I'm perfectly happy staying on dry land, thank you. I prefer my marine life safely on the other side of glass."
"Oh," he said, deflating slightly. "Right. Of course. That makes sense. You're a scientist. You like, you know, studying things. Not being in them. In the water, I mean. Not—not being in things. That came out wrong. I meant-"
"I know what you meant, Kevin." you said, laughing again. God, he was ridiculous. Absolutely, completely, utterly ridiculous. And somehow, impossibly endearing.
"You're laughing at me." he said, but there was no accusation in it. If anything, he seemed pleased, as if your laughter was some precious gift he'd managed to earn.
"A little bit," you admitted. "But in a good way. You're just—you're very.. you, Kevin. I like that."
His entire face transformed. It was like watching someone step into sunlight after years in the dark. His eyes went wide, his mouth dropped open slightly, and a deep flush crept up his neck and into his cheeks.
"You like that?" he repeated, his voice cracking on the last word. "You like—you like me?"
"of course I like you, Kevin." you confirmed. "You're one of my favorite people here. You always make me smile."
He made a sound that was somewhere between a gasp and a whimper, and for a terrifying moment, you thought he might actually cry. His eyes were definitely glistening, and his hands were twitching at his sides like he wanted to reach for you but didn't quite dare.
"I-" He swallowed hard. "That's—that's really nice. That's really, really nice. You're really nice. You're the nicest person I've ever met. Like, ever. In my whole life. And I've met a lot of people. Some of them were even nice. But not like you. You're like—you're like a sea otter. But prettier. And with better hair. Not that sea otters don't have good hair, they're actually very well-groomed creatures, very meticulous, very-"
"Kevin," you said, gently cutting off his ramble. "Do you want to help me finish cataloging these samples? I could use an extra pair of hands."
"yes!" he said, so quickly and loudly that you actually startled back a step. "I mean- yes. I would love to. Help you. With the things. The—the marine things. That you're doing. With your hands. And your—your brain. Your very smart, very beautiful brain."
He was practically vibrating with barely contained excitement as he scrambled to your side, positioning himself so close that his shoulder brushed against yours every time he moved. He didn't seem to notice (or if he did, he didn't care) and you found yourself smiling down at the top of his head as he peered intently at the samples you'd been working on.
"So these are from the seal?" he asked, his voice taking on a more focused quality. "The one with the net stuff?"
"The one with the net stuff," you confirmed, handing him a pair of gloves. "I'm trying to determine if there's any long-term tissue damage from the entanglement. If the necrosis has spread too far, we might need to-"
"Amputate the flipper," he finished, nodding sagely. "Yeah, I saw that once. Really sad. The seal was really sad. But then it got a cool prosthetic and it was really happy again. It was on a TV show. A nature show. With Morgan Freeman narrating. His voice is so calm. Do you think my voice is calm? I've been trying to make it calmer. More soothing. Like ocean waves. You know, 'whoosh, whoosh.'"
"Your voice is perfect," you chuckled absently, reaching for a pipette. "Don't change a thing."
Kevin went very, very still. When you glanced up, he was staring at you with an expression of such naked adoration that you nearly dropped the pipette.
"I-" he started, then stopped. Swallowed. Started again. "My voice is- you think my voice is-?"
"Perfect," you repeated, smiling at him. "Now hand me that scalpel, would you?"
He handed you the scalpel with shaking hands, and if you'd been paying closer attention, you might have noticed the way he watched your fingers curl around the handle, the way his breath caught in his throat, the way his entire body leaned unconsciously toward yours like a flower turning toward the sun.
But you were focused on your work, and Kevin was content, more than content, ecstatic, to simply bask in your presence, absorbing every detail of you like a sponge in water.
Two weeks later, you found yourself in a different section of the marine research wing, this time working with a consultant from the Oceanographic Institute named Dr. Marcus Webb. He was tall, conventionally handsome, with the kind of easy confidence that came from years of being the smartest person in every room he entered.
He was also, as Kevin had noticed with growing horror, very, very interested in you.
You'd been working together on a project about deep-sea thermal vent ecosystems, a subject you were genuinely passionate about, and Marcus had been impressively knowledgeable and engaging. He'd made you laugh several times and had suggested getting coffee together to "continue the discussion."
None of this escaped Kevin's notice.
He'd been watching from the hallway, he looked like a child looking into a candy store, except instead of candy, the thing he desperately wanted was you. He'd come to find you to show you a particularly interesting piece of coral he'd discovered, only to find you laughing at something Marcus Webb had said.
Something ugly and primal clawed its way up Kevin's throat. It was jealousy. Hot, acidic, all-consuming, and it made him want to do things that would probably get him in a lot of trouble with Homelander and Vought's PR department.
But he couldn't just leave. Leaving meant letting Marcus Webb have unfettered access to you, and that was simply unacceptable. So Kevin did what any reasonable, well-adjusted adult would do in his situation:
He went to find you and insert himself into the conversation.
"Hey!" he called out, his voice carrying that particular whiny quality it always got when he was feeling insecure. "Hey, you! My favorite marine biologist! The prettiest one!"
You looked up, and your face lit up in that warm, genuine smile that made Kevin's knees feel weak. "Kevin! I didn't know you were here."
"I'm always here." he said, and immediately cringed at how desperate that sounded. "I mean- I'm here a lot. Because I like it here. Because of the—the water. And the marine life. And the-" He gestured vaguely in your direction. "And stuff."
Marcus looked at Kevin with the kind of tolerant amusement that made Kevin's blood boil. "The Deep, right? I've seen you on TV. You're the one who talks to fish."
"I don't just talk to them." Kevin said, bristling. "I commune with them. It's a profound connection. Much more significant than—than whatever you're doing, which is probably just, you know, reading about them in books or whatever. Like a normal person. Who doesn't have superpowers. Which is fine. It's totally fine. Nothing wrong with being normal."
"Kevin," you said gently, and just the sound of your voice was enough to soothe some of his frayed edges. "Dr. Webb is actually one of the leading experts on deep-sea thermal vent ecosystems. He's been incredibly helpful with my research."
"l bet he has." Kevin muttered under his breath, then immediately regretted it when you shot him a questioning look.
"Did you need something, Kevin?" you asked, and there was no frustration in your voice,just patience, that infinite patience you seemed to have for him and his particular brand of ridiculousness.
"I-" He'd forgotten. What had he wanted? Something important. Something he needed to show you. Something- "Oh! The coral! I found this amazing coral. It's bioluminescent, and it's really, really beautiful, and I thought you'd want to see it because you like beautiful things, and you like marine things, and you're beautiful, and-" He was rambling again, he could hear himself rambling, but he couldn't seem to stop. "I mean, obviously you're not a marine thing, you're a human thing, a very pretty human thing, but you also like marine things, and this is a marine thing, so I thought you'd like-"
"Show me," you said, cutting through his ramble with a warm smile. "I'd love to see it."
You turned to Marcus Webb with a pleasant expression. "I'm sorry, Dr. Webb, but I'm going to have to take a rain check on that coffee. Maybe another time?"
Something bright and triumphant flared in Kevin's chest. You'd turned down Marcus Webb. For him. For him.
"Of course," Marcus said smoothly, but Kevin could see the flash of irritation in his eyes. "Perhaps we could schedule something for next week? I'd love to continue our discussion about the chemosynthetic bacteria."
"We'll see." you said diplomatically, and Kevin had to physically stop himself from doing a victory dance right there right then.
The moment Marcus Webb was out of earshot, Kevin practically collapsed toward you, his voice dropping into a desperate whine. "I don't like him."
"Who, Dr. Webb?" You looked genuinely confused. "He seems perfectly nice."
"He's not nice." Kevin insisted in a hiss, following you like a lost puppy as you gathered your things. "He's- he's got a smug face. And he was looking at you weird. And he touched your arm. I saw him. He touched your arm like three times. That's- that's excessive. That's inappropriate workplace touching. I should report him to HR."
You laughed, and Kevin's heart did that weird flip-flop thing it always did when you laughed. "Kevin, he was just being friendly. He touched my arm twice, and I think one of those times was an accident."
"It wasn't an accident." Kevin grumbled. "It was deliberate. Premeditated. He's got a plan. I know his type. He's one of those—those smooth guys who thinks he can just waltz in and—and—" He couldn't finish the sentence. Couldn't bring himself to articulate the fear that had been gnawing at him since he'd seen you laughing with another man.
"Kevin." Your voice was soft, and when he looked up, you were watching him with that gentle, understanding expression that made him feel both completely seen and completely exposed. "Are you jealous?"
"No." he said immediately. "No, I'm not- why would I- I'm not jealous. That's ridiculous. I'm not jealous. I'm just- I'm observant. I notice things. That's all. It's a- a marine thing. Marine creatures notice patterns. It's how we survive. Not that I'm a marine creature. Obviously I'm a human. Mostly. Technically. According to my birth certificate."
"So you are jealous." you repeated, humming.
Kevin deflated like a punctured balloon. "Tch- well, maybe." he admitted in a small voice. "A little. But only because- because he was touching you, and you were laughing, and you looked so pretty when you were laughing, and I wanted to be the one making you laugh, but he was making you laugh, and that's supposed to be my job-"
"Kevin." You stepped closer to him, close enough that he could smell your perfume, something floral and sweet that made his brain go fuzzy. "You make me laugh all the time. You make me smile every single day. You're my favorite person in this entire building, and probably in the whole city."
"Really?" His voice cracked on the word.
"Really." you confirmed. "Now stop being jealous of Dr. Webb and show me this coral you found. I'm genuinely curious."
Kevin nodded, his expression shifting from desperate jealousy to eager puppy in approximately point-three seconds. "It's this way. Come on. It's really amazing. It's got these little tentacles that light up, and when I touched it, it changed colors, which I thought was really cool and you'd probably have a scientific explanation for it because you're so smart-"
He was babbling again, but you didn't seem to mind. You just smiled and followed him, letting him take your hand- oh god, you'd let him take your hand, and lead you through the winding corridors of Vought Tower toward the bioluminescent coral he'd discovered.
Kevin's heart was pounding so hard he was certain you could feel it through his palm, but he didn't let go. He would never let go, he decided. He was going to hold your hand forever, and if anyone tried to take you away from him, he would- he would-
He didn't know what he would do. But it would be impressive, he decided. He would do something very impressive and heroic, and you would look at him with that warm, admiring expression, and he would finally feel like he'd earned the right to bask in your presence.
"You're staring." you said, and Kevin realized with a jolt that he'd been staring at you for the past thirty seconds.
"Sorry," he said quickly. "I was just- you're really pretty when the light hits your hair like that. Actually, you're pretty all the time."
"Do you ever run out of things to say?" you asked, but you were smiling, so Kevin counted it as a win.
"Not really," he admitted. "My brain just kind of… goes. Especially when I'm around you. It's like all these thoughts just start happening, and they all want to come out at once, and it's really hard to filter them, which is why I probably sound really stupid a lot of the time, and I'm sorry about that, I just-"
"I don't think you sound stupid," you interrupted gently. "I think you sound like someone who cares deeply about things. That's not a bad thing, Kevin. It's actually quite endearing."
Kevin made a sound that was somewhere between a squeak and a whimper. "Endearing?"
"Very." you confirmed.
And just like that, every ounce of jealousy he'd felt toward Marcus Webb evaporated, replaced by a warm, glowing certainty that you were his, and he was yours, and nothing and no one in the world was ever going to change that.
A/N: this has been on my mind all week... and deep isn't even my favorite character!! i hope this reaches some of his fans though. please enjoy!
Tags: headcanons, dub-con, overstim, p in v, coercion, oral (m receiving), slight watersports, choking and breathplay
Wordcount: 1k
Porn-brained Deep who refuses to ever use lube.
He doesn't believe in it, thinks it's a crutch, that it's insulting. "We don't need that, babe. I can get you wet enough by myself," he would say, giving your clit a smack. He would spit all over your pussy, just like they do in the dirty films he loses himself in at night.
When he finally aligns himself with your cunt and shoves his way in, he groans at the resistance. "Give it a second," he would say through clenched teeth, eyebrows pinching together. He fucks into you anyways, ignoring your pained whines. Once you adjust to his size and give up on trying to get him to stop, your body relaxes just a bit and your pussy forms a precious little creamy ring around his cock, slicking him up nice and good. "What'd I say, huh? Always getting wet for me."
Porn-brained Deep who grows obsessed with the idea of choking you during sex.
The girls in the videos he watches love it, so he tries it without warning. At first, his hand just wraps around your throat enough to hold you in place, keeping you anchored against the bed while he pummels his cock into you.
Unfortunately, he did zero actual research on safe breathplay and pushes down further on your throat, nearly crushing your windpipe. He sees the way you squirm and assumes it's because of how much you love it, so he adds his other hand, stupidly unaware of how strong he actually is.
"Fuck, your face is getting so red, baby. Must really like this." He shoves his tongue into your breathless mouth, stealing what little bit of air you have left. "Didn't know you were such a freak."
Porn-brained Deep who is personally offended when you can't squirt for him.
He takes it as a slight against him, as if he isn't fucking you well enough. He thinks squirting is just the female equivalent of ejaculating, so when you tell him you came but he didn't see you squirt, he thinks you're lying to save his feelings and he doesn't like that one bit.
He's folded your legs to your chest, pushing them the farthest they can go. One hand is planted on your lower belly, pushing down on where his cock is hitting, and the other is abusing your clit. "I'm not fucking pathetic, I don't need you to lie to me. I can make you cum whenever I want," he would say, mostly to himself, as you are a lost cause—nothing but a sobbing mess at this point.
"Can't do it anymore," you managed to shriek, feeling your eighth orgasm creep down your spine. It's not enough for him. It's not real if he can't see it. "Please, no more! F—fuck!"
He clamps his hand over your mouth to shut you up and lifts your lower body up with his other hand. This angle lets him hit even deeper, abusing the spot that aches for him. He's also managing to hit your bladder, too, though, and with each thrust, little sprays of piss leak out of your sore cunt.
"That's it," he would goad, pulling his dick out and smacking it against your sopping pussy. "You're gonna keep fuckin' squirting for me until I'm done. You've been holding out on me."
Porn-brained Deep who treats you like a doll.
He moves you in any position he wants, pulling and shoving you like you're weightless. If he wants you face down and ass up, then that's how he'll maneuver you. He rips your legs apart without a care, sliding himself between your thighs like it's his rightful place.
"Take it," he would coo. "Every inch, now. Don't squeeze me out."
He's rooted behind you, gripping your hips hard enough to bruise, slamming into you at a murderous pace. When you try to catch your breath and lift your head, he smothers your face back into the pillow, using his foot on the back of your head.
He degrades you physically and praises you verbally, giving you whiplash and keeping you dizzy, drenched, and dumb on his cock.
Porn-brained Deep who doesn't let you swallow his cum.
When you blow him, he refuses to let you swallow. That's too clean, he wants you messy.
Sometimes, he makes you slowly drool it out so he can watch it pool down your neck and chest.
Sometimes, he wants you to blow bubbles with it, drooling over his balls and slicking them up with his own diluted cum.
Sometimes, he kisses you right after and steals his own cum from your mouth, swishing it around with his saliva before spitting it back out onto your face with a dazed smirk.
Most of the time, though, he takes hold of your hand, brings it to your own mouth, and tells you to spit. He lets go of your wrist and nods. You know exactly what to do.
You bring the messy hand to your cunt and smear it all over, coating your folds with his cum.
"Don't forget—yeah, good," he would hum, watching you shove your cum covered fingers into your hole. "Good girl, that's right. Fuck it back inside."
Porn-brained Deep who forces you to watch videos with him.
"See that? Don't you wanna be a nasty girl just like her?"
Cum funnels, gangbangs, anal, double penetration, all of it. Anything sick, perverted, or icky is his holy grail.
He slowly pets your pussy, mentally taking note of which scenes make your panties wetter and which ones make your clit throb under his touch. When a video of a woman tied up to the bed pops up, a vibrator assaulting her helpless cunt, he feels your pussy twitch.
"Yeah?" He looks over at you, an eyebrow raised. "You like that?" He rubs you more purposefully, focusing on your swollen clit.
"I guess my baby's getting to be just as gross as I am, huh?"
A/N: my first purely deep centered fic... i don't talk about him a lot but he is one of my favorites. hope you all enjoy, comments + reblogs are always appreciated!! <3
Tags: dub-con, age gap, p in v, coercion, intoxication, manipulation, drunk reader, prone bone, kinda sweet deep if you can look past all the rape-y stuff <33
Wordcount: 1.1k
Your friends fucking sucked.
You were, unfortunately, too blinded by your desire for on-campus friends to see it, despite the glaring red flags right in front of you. You were pregaming with them for a rager at your rival college, drunkenly navigating the streets with your group.
When you passed the beach, they had convinced you to wait for them while they called a cab at the nearest payphone. They had waved off your concern by telling you that you were simply too drunk to walk any further. Inebriated beyond recognition, you agreed and walked down the boardwalk, hopping off the ledge to stand in the cold sand. They were only going to be gone for a few minutes, they said, promising to come back as soon as the taxi came.
They had forgotten you. You realized it after thirty—or what your drunken brain perceived as thirty—minutes had passed. Realistically, you should have been angry, or at least afraid, but you were too drunk to truly care.
Besides, the waves looked beautiful at night. They crashed gently against the shore, just kissing the coast. Before you knew it, you had kicked your heels off and stood near the water, just letting the freezing water lap at your feet. Then you sat down, pulling your short dress up and hitching it around your waist to keep it from getting wet.
You had never felt this calm before. Maybe it was just the cheap liquor in your system that had suppressed your nerves, helping you forget about finals coming up, but it was nice to not have to think so much. The sea was eerily calm too, the tide barely moving. You crawled a little further into the water, craving a better view.
Clearly, a huge mistake, as the second you went deeper, the water lurched forward and trapped you under a wave. You instinctively gasped and inhaled enough water to nearly choke yourself. You tried to keep your head afloat, but your limbs were heavy and useless under the weight of the water, and so you sank deeper and deeper until you swore you were dying. When you felt darkness creep into your vision, you accepted your fate, slowly feeling your body give out on you.
Then, just as suddenly as you were doomed, you were saved. A strong pair of muscular arms wrapped around your torso and hoisted you above the water. You felt your body be placed against the sand, hair splaying behind you.
“You alright, there?” a man asked, standing over you, blocking what little night the moon provided in the night. “The ocean nabbed you awfully quick.”
You blinked slowly and sat up. Water gushed out of your ears and soaked hair, which was less than ideal, but you were alive! You thought you were going to die and had prepared your final prayers, hoping they were good enough to land you in heaven. Thanks to your hero, who you couldn’t quite make out with how blurry your vision had gotten, you lived another day.
“Sorry, I—” you paused after wiping your eyes and looking back up. “Holy shit.” The Deep. A member of the illustrious Seven had just saved your life, and not only that, but he looked good even after doing it. His hair was perfectly wet and his suit clung to his muscles in the best way, fabric straining over every inch of him. “You’re The Deep, aren’t you? Oh my god, you saved my life—thank you so much!”
“Guilty as charged,” he said, flashing you a smile that showed his flawless teeth, “and no need to thank me. All in a day’s work, right?”
“You saved me,” you said through a soft cough, still feeling residual water trapped in your throat as you pushed yourself to your feet. “Of course I’ve gotta thank you!” You wrapped your arms around him and pressed an innocent kiss to his cheek. Too forward, perhaps, but you were tipsy and just happy to be alive. Who could blame you?
Deep chuckled softly, placing his hand on your lower back and rubbing a small circle against it. “Nah, it's a pleasure to save pretty girls like you.”
He got a whiff of the alcohol on your breath and felt his chest tighten. He was hoping to score out of this and you being in a malleable state would only make it easier. Having some random broad drift into the water was annoying at first, but when he caught the outline of your body in that tiny dress float up then sink further away, he knew he had to take his chance.
Besides, you had already proved you were willing to show your appreciation physically. How much more grateful could you be? The idea went straight to his dick and made his suit’s crotch grow uncomfortably tight.
“But…” he said, dropping his hands lower to grope your ass, practically reaching under your dress, “maybe we actually could find a way for you to pay me back."
“I bet you’re real popular with guys at school,” Deep said through gritted teeth, pressing your body deeper into the sand. He was so heavy, keeping you pinned under him with his larger frame, and his strokes were so mean. “Lucky me.”
Sex had never felt like this before, for sure. Guys on campus were never so vocal and they definitely weren’t as strong. The way Deep’s body felt against yours reminded you of how you felt under the water: unable to save yourself and sopping wet.
You felt him pull your hips up slightly, arching your back. That only made him hit deeper and when he found the spot that made you cry out the loudest, he abused it with a breathy laugh, caught between amusement and arousal.
“Gentle,” you pleaded, barely audible. Your mouth was basically full of sand at this point, forced to moan with your face against the ground. “Can’t take anymore.”
Deep threaded his fingers through your hair and tilted your head to the side. “Sorry, babe, no can do. Feels too good, you know?” He gave you a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss as compensation and his cock twitched at the taste of your mouth. Your saliva was basically rum and he felt his own sort of high come as it trickled down his throat. “F—fuck.”
He was bullying your insides with each thrust, but he spoke so sweetly to you, and what little was left of your logical mind told you that you owed him this. Even if it hurt. At the very least, you knew you were going to cum any second now. That was more than guys at your school offered, most times.
“You can go and tell every girl we fucked if you wanna.” He smacked the fat of your ass with a soft groan, eyes darkening at the red mark he left. “Make ‘em jealous that you got yourself some supe dick. Right, pretty girl?”
