#‘no. that doesn’t mean i can’t help. and doesn’t mean i won’t.’

[fancyfeathers]

Imagine being Yandere!Dick Grayson’s pretty little wife…

Yandere!Dick Grayson who meets his darling while leaving his apartment in Blüdhaven to run some errands, she lives in the building next door and was leaving herself to go to work.

Yandere!Dick Grayson whose darling runs right into him, spilling her coffee all over the both of them because she was distracted. She feels horrible and starts sputtering out apologies but he is to distracted to hear a word she is saying, he was absolutely beautiful, unrequited love at first sight.

Yandere!Dick Grayson who sits by the window of his apartment that faces her apartment that is across the small alleyway between them. He sees her come home from work, absolutely exhausted and crashing out almost immediately after she closed the door, she didn’t even make it to bed or make dinner for herself, falling asleep on her couch.

Yandere!Dick Grayson who watches her every night before he goes off on patrol, half the time she sleeps on her couch and the other half of the time she goes to bed without dinner and that just won’t do. When he is about to leave on patrol, he goes over to her apartment first, breaking in as Nightwing, changing her into her pajamas, and tucking her into bed when she falls asleep on the couch and she looks so adorable all curled up like a baby.

Yandere!Dick Grayson who runs into her while walking Haley and inviting her out to dinner since Haley seems to like her and he knows a dog friendly restaurant just a block away. He is absolutely buzzing with excitement when she accepts because he is starting to get tired of sneaking into her apartment when she didn’t eat and trying to get her to drink soup or a smoothie in her sleep.

Yandere!Dick Grayson who just happens to run into her over and over again, walks with Haley, stopping in at the restaurant she works at as a waitress and getting seated in her section, or just happening to be driving by when she is walking home from her university night classes and he offers to drive her back to her apartment.

Yandere!Dick Grayson who finally asks his darling out when they end up on their accidental walks together and she accepts, so he doesn’t have to sneak into her apartment to take care of her, he’ll have a meal in tupperware waiting on her kitchen counter when she comes home with a cute little note on it and then he’ll call her when she is about to fall asleep and talk to her about her day and just happen to remind her to fall asleep in her bed since the couch is bad for her back.

Yandere!Dick Grayson who tells her that he is Nightwing after a year of dating, and that is fine until she practically becomes the Lois Lane of Blüdhaven with Nightwing swinging down and sweeping his darling off of her feet when she was almost mugged or Nightwing knocking on her apartment window for everyone on the street to see, or Nightwing seeing her during a fight and he smiled and waved at her.

Yandere!Dick Grayson whose darling can’t break up with him because she needs him to protect her because now she has a target on her back because of the amount of times she has been seen with the original Boy Wonder. Though she is tired of her life being at risk of being killed when she is just trying to get by at her crappy job and get her university degree, but Dick has a solution…

Yandere!Dick Grayson who helps his darling move into his apartment with him, and by help I mean he carries everything inside by himself and then when his darling asks what she can do he asks if she could make lunch so they can eat when he is done.

Yandere!Dick Grayson who sits down with his darling after one time where she nearly got shot at work and asks her to quit, it’s too dangerous and he can’t bare the thought of potentially loosing her.

Yandere!Dick Grayson who slowly shuts down his darling’s social life, pulling her out of in person classes and making her do school online, locking the front door of his apartment and not leaving her a key so she can’t get out…

Yandere!Dick Grayson who finds a positive pregnancy test in the bathroom trash when he is about to get ready in the morning. Haley was acting off the last week or two, always near his darling and her head on her tummy, and now he knows why, his darling is pregnant.

Yandere!Dick Grayson confronts his darling about it, still acting all happy about it and…

“I get it baby, you wanted to surprise me and-“

“Dick, I can’t go through with this pregnancy.”

Yandere!Dick Grayson who completely shatters when she says that, especially when she tells him that she thinks she wants to break up with him.

Yandere!Dick Grayson who ties up his darling while she is asleep that night and gags her, before moving her into the closet where he set up a little room for her until he can figure out a long term solution because anyone could hear her scream here and the apartment is no where big enough for a baby.

Yandere!Dick Grayson who starts conditioning his darling once she realizes there is no way out of this. She gets to watch a movie if she sits by Dick while he makes dinner or she gets to go on a walk with Dick and Haley if she lets him pick out her outfit, soon all her life is a series of ultimatums.

Yandere!Dick Grayson who gets his darling stuck with a ring on her finger and pregnant with his child.

Yandere!Dick Grayson who knows animals can sense people’s emotions, so whenever his darling is sitting on the couch, Haley is sitting next to her, her head resting on her lap, both of them are sad.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yandere Eldritch Ex-Husband ///////

Your now ex-husband is incredibly surprised when the authorities are dispatched to your new house when he enters. Thinking nothing of it he broke the knob of your new home, thinking after all that time talking with the judge over some foreign topic you’d both be settling into the new place. Turns out this ‘divorce’-thing and ‘restraining order’-stuff meant something after all. That he couldn’t be with you and the baby.

“Wait, the dee - force means I don’t get to come home? What–?”

“Sir, if you give me trouble it’ll only hurt your chances of seeing your kid more.”

“Wait I can’t see him? (Y/n)! (Y/n)-honey, please!”

“Sir, please put your hands behind your back.”

The only reason he doesn’t suck their brains out through their noses+ fight more is because he’s so devastated as he thinks about how in the dark about cruel-human-practices. Only now does it register that when you were oh-so cutely crying about leaving, you weren’t talking about a late night run to the store to satisfy your cravings. That the word he had dismissed as something you wanted to buy was actually an action. An action that meant he’d be deprived of the most important person in his life.

“Hello?”

“......I did not understand before….but I understand now.”

“Kilton? You know a restraining order extends to calls, right?”

“IM nOt LetTInG yOu go—”

Click.

“Creep.”

As he reluctantly uses the resources proposed to him, to argue for custody he has time to think about when you first mentioned the word. But the more he replays those heavenly moments with you he realizes how often your brow was scrunched and a vein was popping from that kissable forehead. It’s then that your ex-husband begins to realize just how little he was actually listening to you. Ashamed, he’s realized that while he finds all your actions absolutely irresistible it didn’t mean you were happy. And he really had no one to blame but himself.

“Hello this is Kilton (L/n) if you have a message leave it at the tone….beep.”

“Hey I hope I got the right number but I need your help with the baby….there’s stuff going on that I have no idea how to deal with. I won’t call the police or tell anyone..I just need….some help. And you're the only one who can give it to me.”

“OF COURSE i’LL BE RIGht oVER!”

“Wait you never set up your voicemai—”

When you left your husband, you were tired of being so confused all the time. Your husband, your best friend was keeping you in the dark for a long time now. Starting from the occasionally odd behavior you’d witness him do, that he’d brush off as if it were nothing. Like the doors in the house that have begun to open to alternate dimensions (that’s what you believe but your husband will not explain in any way) ignoring your concerns and calling you being ‘silly.’ It was annoying but you hadn’t died yet so it wasn’t that bad…until you got pregnant.

“How can this be?”

“Yippee I told you, that one took!”

“No, I literally can’t.”

“Of course, you can babe, you already are look at your little bump.”

“No like I literally can’t this is unbelievable.”

Whether you physically can and were vigilant in prevention or you physically should not be able to conceive matters not. You are pregnant. Or you were. And while dealing with the intense hormones and birthing pains and gravity-defying phenomena happening in your home, your ex-husband would explain nothing. Doing nothing but smile wistfully at you while you demanded to know why the fridge was inching closer every time you turned the corner. Any sane person could only handle so much of his pretend assurances that you were just losing your mind. 

But hindsight 20/20 you should’ve known you couldn’t get rid of your eldritch ex-husband with your eldritch baby. 

“Hey you left the door unlocked, so I let myself in. Babe, you can’t be doing that it’s really unsa–the furniture doesn’t look at all like it did before.”

“Of course it doesn’t! Because your son has decided to rearrange it with his humming!” 

“That’s not a hum, Love. He’s singing a hymn of Utter Chaos–”

“I DON’T CARE WHAT IT IS MAKE HIM STOP.”

As you suspected the root of all the inexplicable happenings in your life were because of your ex-husband and by extension the little bundle that has been doing all sorts of things a normal baby shouldn’t. Like humming the ‘utter chaos song’ or making supplies float over to you while changing him or how at the end of his bath the water turns red and evaporates in an echo of screams. It’s just a little alarming.

“Where is the baby?”

“In that other dimension.”

“Excuse me?”

“Isn’t that something familiar to you? Every now and then he just goes into this other dimension that let’s his laugh morph the walls a little.”

“Oh my. That’s new for me too.”

Surprisingly despite your husband’s now-confirmed-eldritch-heritage he’s not an exact expert on everything his son does. Apparently no one from his world/dimension/atternate plane of existence does everything your son does and is blissfully writing off as something from your side of the family. He’ll shrug and use the opportunity to listen to you list the observations you’ve made about your darling offspring and maybe compliment you on your vigilance as a new unfortunately single parent. Don’t worry it won’t be that way for long!+

“So the blood water thing. It happens whenever he interacts with water.”

“Oh I know that one it’s an old habit of mine, for storing water for later!”

“What about the metal-eating?”

“Metal eating? With no teeth? Beats me must have gotten a taste from all those utensils you’re so fond of. By the way parenthood looks good on you have I told you that?”

As he becomes more of a constant presence in your home, there's a startling change in your baby boy’s behavior. It doesn’t stop but it’s a lot less destructive. Finally, you could have the delivery crew enter the yard without them being swallowed by the portal to your son’s crib. Finally, you can afford to have a couple-hour meet and greet with your family without anyone inexplicably sprouting horns. So reluctantly you let him back into your life with very specific conditions.

“You can’t stay the night.”

“Aww but aren’t you worried about me going home in the dark?”

“I know you’re not just some helpless human, so no. Second rule no kissing or lovey dovey things with me.”

“Got it. So vague I can work with that.”

“And finally–”

“EEEKK! WHAT DID HE DO TO MY BABY!?”

“Oh guess someone’s up from their nap.”

“I’ll distract her with a ring to her doorbell, you change back the dog.”

“As always, please try to turn down her invites for dinner this time. I don’t think I can spare her if she upsets him again.”

“No promises!”

Kilton realizes that what he has with you doesn’t mean he’s equally let back into your life, especially since so many other couples ailed by this (dee)force co-parent more or less the same so he’s got his work cut out for him. He’ll have to finally get over his listening issue while worming his way back into your heart! And don’t worry he definitely will!

[melanchoire]

i love your writings smmm ughhhhh😩 wish u wrote anythinggg on njz minji 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 like imagine minji giving you a head and eating u outtttttt for her own pleasure through overstimulating u..💔💔 clit slaps😵‍💫 and then guiding u to fuck her with pretty 9 inch strap on and provocatively sucking your strap😭 minji degrading u and calling a slut😩 and cuddles in the end with now cutest bear min

i absolutely NEED to write more for minji because she is so boyfriend and handsome and EVERYTHING anon if you have more ideas for minji my inbox is always open 👀

cw: cunnilingus, degradation, edging, fingering, hair pulling, use of strap on.

minji looks like she gives you the best heads 😵‍💫 yes, she has such beautiful and kissable plump lips, but they look even better when they wrap around your clit and suck on it 🥰

have you seen those boyfriends who usually wear a hair tie from their girlfriends on their wrist to show that they’re in a relationship? well, from the outside it may look like minji is using one of your hair ties as a bracelet and showing that she is not available because she already has a girlfriend that she loves too much, but really, it’s mostly because she wants to be prepared in advance if the situation arises where she finds a moment to tie up her hair and start eating you 😭 and she looks so attractive when she has her hair tied up in a messy bun… she would tie her hair in front of you in the most sensual and slow way because she knows the effect it has on you, or other times she likes it when you’re the one who ties her hair while she is eating you 🫠

the feeling of your hands in her hair makes her sooo wet that she could cum just from the feeling of your fingers in her locks, one of the reasons why she sometimes prefers to have her hair down while she devours you. maybe it can be annoying because the strands tend to fall on her face, but she loves it when your hands run through her hair and pull on her soft locks, feeling much better than when her hair is tied up

minji has big, somewhat masculine hands that she makes the most of when you give her the chance to use them. it doesn’t matter if you have plushy thighs or slimmer ones, she can make her whole hand surround your whole thigh and always applying a pressure that leaves a mark of her fingers that will be there for days 😵‍💫 she uses this to her advantage to completely open your thighs to the point your legs are spread obscenely wide or push your thighs up until your knees are pressed against your chest and she commands you to hold them in that position

but just as her hands please, they also punishes! so imagine how a slap in the pussy feels from someone with big ass hands 😥 it would all start with you moving your hips, maybe up to fuck her face or trying to push your cunt away from her mouth by pushing them down into the mattress. minji would try to brush it off at first, pausing for a moment to furrow her thick eyebrows and gives a glance from beneath her eyelashes. she would let it go if it weren’t for the fact that you repeat the same mistake, and given her short temper, she suddenly moves away from between your legs and her palm lands on your pussy, giving you a sharp slap that makes you scream and your pussy turns a little red :( there are times when minji has less patience and gives you three or even five slaps in a row, pissed off on the outside but inside she is enjoying watching your pussy get swollen and get a reddish color 😣 she is so mean… but she can’t help but make you moan or cry

THE STRAP PART. you’re used to the fact that if you’re the one using it, she is on top or, as in most cases, that she is the one fucking you, but your girlfriend has needs too and you’re willing to fulfill them! even if you know it won’t end well

omg i know she gives the best head of her life to the strap, saying “we can’t use it dry, right?” looking up at you from below as she gets on her knees 🫠 and minji sucks the cock like it’s real?? first teasing and kissing the head to tease, but a few seconds later she already has more than half of the strap in her mouth while one of her hands caresses the base as if it were real… you can’t feel anything, of course, but the image of her so into her task and committed to fulfilling it that sometimes makes you wish you had a real cock just to experience this every chance you get

you worry about her because the choking noises are so obscene and she is drooling so much on the strap that her drool starts to drip down her chin 😭 but if you try to move away, her hands will go to the back of your thighs and use them to push your body towards hers, causing the tip of your cock to hit the back of her throat and her nose to now be against your tummy…

and degrades you while you fuck her even if you’re giving her a fuck that will leave her in bed the whole next day. she knows how to contain her moans, suppressing them by biting the lower lip and covering them with shaky laughter. she doesn’t want to give you the satisfaction of knowing that you’re making her feel good, but not before making fun of you a little

“c’mon babe. fuck me properly.”

“is that all you got? aww sweetie… it seems that even after so much time in a relationship, you still don’t know how to please a girl.”

your energy may be starting to run out and you’re starting to feel tired, but that’s no excuse to give up just yet! you still have one task left to do: make minji cum

but you end up being so submissive and pathetic 😭 hugging her waist tightly and starting to fuck her at a speed that makes the bed creak beneath you two 😋 minji at this point doesn’t feel like joking around anymore because she feels so overwhelmed, so she wraps her legs around your waist and pushes your face into the crook of her neck, muffling your whimpers and moans because you were starting to get frustrated but feeling needy too :( pleasing minji always ends up causing this because her teasing always makes you so wet

and when you collapse on the bed after she cums on your strap she is the one who takes care of the aftercare because you always end up lifeless on the bed 😞 but kisses and cuddles with min are >>>

[sylussweetie]

“CALL ME BABY”

Desc. What kind of fathers the LADS men would be. The kinds of kids they have. The brief dynamic amongst the children.

Featuring. Xavier, Zayne, Sylus, Rafayel, & Caleb! All x Reader/MC (separately)

w.c

A/N: Not me making problems for children. Also, the break my nuts game is a real game. My auntie was watching over some kids that were friends of a friend and they were jumping off the couch onto a firm triangle cushion trying to “break their nuts” crazy work btw, 10/10 parenting somehow

Xavier. He get’s a boy and a girl as twins. The older one I see taking on his more stoic and responsible attributes. The second kid, taking on his sleep everywhere traits but is a bad bitch on the down low. Second kid’s just unmotivated and unbothered.

Imagine it like this, if they were to grow into a high school setting, the archetypes of the first kid would be a student body president or have a role in the student body (they’d be arguing with Zayne’s kid for that role). Then the second kid would be just a “average” student with extra brain cells but wouldn’t want to put them to use. As they’re much more content with going to sleep and not exhausting as much energy as possible but when it comes to being relied on, end up being very reliable.

They def bicker a lot but not as much as Rafayel’s kids (Which we will get to later).

Xavier def treasures those kids. They would take on his hair but your eyes and have features that mostly resembled you with his cosmetics. He and second kid would get along fine and would cuddle together growing up because of how much they SLEEP. Imagine second kid clinging onto Xavier when he has to go to work. All like “daddy no! Don’t go!” Grumbling and gripping onto Xavier’s shirt.

Xavier’s oldest and him bond over simple talking, quality time in… cooking for you.

“But you’re banned from the kitchen.”

“Says who?”

“Mom.”

“She won’t even notice.”

“She will if the house is gone by the time she gets back.”

“I wasn’t aware the house could teleport. It must have been an oversight when I bought it.”

“Dad.”

Oldest kid loves practicing against Xavier with the sword. Second kid gets too dejected easily and does not truly want to do Xavier gets his fun out of oldest child. Teaching his oldest kid all the tricks he learnt and if anyone tries to get too close at school he gives them permission to defend themselves. If you know what I mean.

The oldest kid inherits Xavier’s light evol. They def train together. The second kid doesn’t care but they’re like a naturally talented and gifted sort of genius who doesn’t have to try. I’d say they’re really good at the sword with bad evol control or have skilled evol usage with a lack of effort or skill in sword fighting. One or the other.

The kids ask about how you and Xavier fell in love and Xavier’s always so sentimental when he tells the story. His rendition. Something you haven’t heard from him before but did now. First kid is sitting obediently at his side and looking up to the face of their father listening intently. While second child is lazing with their head on Xavier’s thigh as Xavier brushes their hair.

Zayne. Zayne feels like a girl dad or a boy dad, but with only one child. Honestly if he has a girl first, it’s a single child. If he has a boy first, then he has a young girl right after but when the boy is 5-7 so they have a pretty decent age difference.

Girl dad Zayne loves his baby girl. So, so much. She’s taken on your features, your hair, your eyes. I guess the only thing she has of his is the cold personality. Though not really cold, just shy and then with your chipper excitement whenever she lights up at anything she loves. Is also a lover of dessert. You have to yell at them both when they sneak away extra macaroons.

Zayne knows it’s wrong but can’t help it when she gives him the puppies of eyes.

Zayne’s son has almost all of his colors save for his features. He’s inherited the eyebrows for sure but the other features are yours. Sculpted soft nose and cushy cheeks. When he was born, Zayne couldn’t help but ghostly pinch at the chub of his newborn son. Almost looking akin to that cheery little seal he would always craft out of his evol.

Zayne’s daughter loves her big brother so, so much. She walks to school with him while holding his hand and skipping with the biggest, toothiest smile on his face. Whenever you give her candy she always saves a piece to share with her older brother and loves to tease him with sticky candied fingers. She adores being twirled around by him in the air and it always ends up with you having to warn them to be careful not to fall. She’s the only one she has such an easy time showing emotion with (besides you guys).

When she gets older she stops trying to be so reliant on him. Especially in public, she’s so independent and self reliant to everyone else, but at school she gets all embarrassed and shy when her big brother comes into class to remind her that she forgot her water bottle. Or that mom told her to eat all the veggies packed in her bento. Her classmates all awe at him and how cool her big brother is.

Zayne’s son is hardwired to look after his wittle baby sister. He can’t help it, she’s so cute. But also as he grows older he begins to wish for time to himself and independence from having to be an older protective brother. With so much weight on his shoulders he begins to act out and at some point claims that his dad only cares about his baby sister and that he doesn’t love him. (He’s a pre-teen give him a break).

All is resolved of course after a talk and that Zayne assured him he loves him, and pinching his cheeks.

Zayne’s son being the cool VP that hangs around and lets the kids chill from the rules while Zayne’s daughter in her generation is the president and is def more strict.

They both inherit Zayne’s snow ability but to your Evol versatility. Zayne’s son specializing in more imaginative moving creatures while Zayne’s daughter specializes in ice in the form of intricate and sturdy sculptures.

Rafayel. Rafayel has a girl, and a younger boy. No questions asked. Only like 3-4 years apart. The older girl is a sassy version of him, if not sassier. She has his hair, and his eyes. Although the big bug eyed version of them where it feels like she’s constantly staring into your soul. Constantly has them tied in adorable little pigtails at the side of her that swish back and forth when she shakes her head “no” especially when she was a toddler, a little pout on her face, lower lip jutted out as she crosses her arms with watery eyes peaking up at you both.

She is in fact a daddy’s girl, but very much still loves you. When she was younger she’d fight you over who got to cuddle dad in bed until Rafayel just tucked himself in the middle and cuddled you both. When she’s older she’s much more content with just you, and in fact finds her dad’s possession of your time to be really annoying. She wants to go shopping with you, for you to do her hair. For you to bake with her.

If anything, she kinda feels bad when she was younger for preferring her dad over you and wants to remind you that she loves you, too. Especially when you had her brother. Who took up most of your time. This was when she truly noticed the loss of your attention.

She kinda bullied him a lot too lol. But not too harshly, usual sibling banger of chasing each other around with a knife and threatening death. Then consoling and begging not to tell mom or dad. With her is the only time he’ll ever fight or argue back. But in a shy “leave me alone!” Kid sort of way. They bicker and banter back and forth. “Go climb a tree! Bug eyed freak!” “I hope the sharks eat you! You’d taste better than the grass!”

Rafayel’s son is much shyer. With one eye the color of Rafayel’s gradient hues and the other one of yours. He’s quite different than the both of you since you’re both so bold, especially with each other. He’s sensitive, and very shy. When he was younger, he’d often liked to be held by you and would bury his chubby face into your neck. He likes hiding behind Rafayel’s leg in public when he has his art galleries cause he still likes to see the pretty art his papa makes.

He loves to paint, Rafayel and him bonded that way. Rafayel somewhat got him out of his shell when his son was gifted the most talented artist award in kindergarten. In middle to highschool, Rafayel’s son gets pretty famous for being such a talented artist (but often gets compared to his dad and how he can’t live up to the original). Oh well, guess that’s why his older sister is there to beat them all up.

Younger son has evol doing with painting. The elements he paints come to life for a momentary period of time. He’s still learning to use it. Older sister has Rafayel’s fire evol. She’s more of a fighter though like her mom rather than a “dainty” artist. However, she fights with a force and grace of that of a well practiced and skilled dancer.

Sylus. Twins. Two girls. One boy. Just a five year age gap. His little girls are fierce and bold. Just as daring, sly and cunning. He spoils them SO much. They come back from weekend shopping trips from different parts of the world, sometimes richer in fashion and sometimes richer in mind. He definitely takes them to explore other cultures and they bring back souvenirs from their travels.

His girls love to hang onto Sylus like little monkeys. Very adventurous. If one of them is climbing his leg, the other one is hanging off his arm as he holds it up like a branch. Even as they get older to beg him for something they use this tactic.

As for his son, Sylus likes to sit with his son. It’s kind of strange cause the little boy is so quiet. Sylus likes to clean his guns with his son. Having the little child sit on the couch just staring blankly at his father reload and clean a gun. Of course, safety first.

His son inherits his animal loving trait. Horses? Check? A strange forest water creature? Check. A beaver? Strangely yes. Cats? Especially cats. If he goes outside expect him to come back with at least one cat that managed to follow him home.

“Who is that?”

“That’s Mochi and Miles. They’re brothers, Mochi is really nice but Miles is really mean.”

He looks up at you with those puppiest eyes, “Can we keep them?”

Before Sylus was more adept as a parent he had Mephisto watch over the twins in the crib. He had a special crib made with a perch sturdy enough to hold between two cribs so the crow could look over them all at once.

After you found out you scolded him, “what is a bird going to do if they’re in danger?”

“CAWCAW.”

“He’s going to do that.”

Luke and Kieran love the girls. Twinsies!!! They play house with them, feed them, albeit they’re both very clumsy in trying to feed the stubborn kids. The oldest is definitely very impatient and eats as fast as possible to go play, a choking hazard. The second one is patient and eats slow while transfixed with the TV, also a choking hazard with how distracted she gets. They both are very worried, very paranoid, very protective.

On the playground a little boy comes up to give Sylus’s second daughter a flower, all blushing and unable to meet her eyes as she’s more confused rather than thankful. But take it anyway. Luke and Kieran watching the whole thing interrogated the poor kid.

This kid is someone in Second daughter’s class that always remains behind the scenes throughout the years. In middle school he’s a pimply nervous kid and gets a completely glow up in high school that has every girl blushing but he only has eyes for second daughter.

Kieran and Luke refer to the son as little monarch. Throw him up in the air and like to shadow box with him. They’ll come out from the shadows and as Sylus’s son is throwing a punch, they’ll dramatically toss themselves backwards and groan in pain.

First daughter is chatty as FUCK. Wanting to know everything about her baby brother while second daughter watches and observes.

“Mommy, what does he eat?”

“Milk.”

“From a cow?”

“No.”

“From your nipples?”

“Whe-where did you learn that?”

“Did we drink from your nipples too?”

“Sylus!”

Sylus’s son is much more deadpanned, reserved, less excitable than the girls but just as adventurous if not more bold because of this personality difference. He gives off little shit energy. He’s a menace who does what he wants and loves to piss off his older sisters.

However, he’s a mommy’s boy. Prefers to spend days with you whether it be action based, training in the ring or relaxing, spa based. He loves both because he wants to spend time with his mom.

Very often it’s Sylus showing you PDA and all three of the kids BLEGHING at the sight. Although they acknowledge that they’re very lucky to have healthy, loving parents.

The oldest twin and son takes on the more physical attributes of both their parents. They both love boxing. While Sylus’s second daughter is more elegant and dancer-like. She’s more nimble and lean. Definitely took acrobatics when she was younger.

Second daughter takes on Sylus’s evol but in a ribbon leverage sort of manner. Kind of like Spiderman in movement and functionality but with evol strings. Son takes on mother’s attribute of physical combat with Sylus’s build. Think of the “BEAT HIS ASS” audio and that’s the vision you get whenever he fights. He grows to be way taller than his sisters. Older daughter is a combination of both, a master of none but a jack of all trades. She’s got skilled abilities in fighting, and evol manipulation but it’s her father’s manipulative eye that she’s got the most handle over out of the three.

Caleb. Caleb would have twin boys, one girl. Six year age gap. He’s hoping for a kid to look like you, but the twins share his resemblance. It’s extremely uncanny. The only thing they’d have is your nose bridge and eye structure. Otherwise it’s those beady lavender’s staring right back at him.

Metal arm Caleb is especially careful of holding the kids, definitely letting his more fleshy one being the one to hold his kids. Especially before they can even crawl, open their eyes, etc. He really wants to hold both kids in both arms, he’s strong enough to but is too afraid of hurting them. As they grow older they get used to their daddy’s “robot arm” and begin to ask questions about its origins and how other daddy’s don’t have robot arms.

They’re also very mischievous. Grabbing each other’s hair, especially as infants who can crawl. The youngest in retaliation always grabs the oldest’ hair and never lets go until he gets a toy. Or as they grow older, throwing dirt in the other’s faces, stealing a portion of their food but never taking each other’s portion of dessert because that’s sacred. Not as bad as Rafayel’s kids but 100% more physical.

They’re also both sort of manipulative. In the cute little shit way and less of the egotistical man sort of way. They want simple things like candy, not world domination (yet). They both also fight over your attention, and fight their dad for your attention. Caleb makes it very well known his little shits can’t have you at night but you will most certainly tuck them in.

The kids always BLEGH whenever he calls you pipsqueak or anything super endearing. With such love in his voice and heart eyes, a hand around your waist and leaning down to kiss your forehead. Such a love they cannot fathom just yet as they repulse is disgust at the affection.

“Momma we can kiss you way better than papa can.”

“Yeah, papa’s icky right now. He’s got cooties and germs all over him.”

“Your momma loves my cooties just fine.” He teases them with a flick to both their foreheads.

He loves flying paper airplanes for them, especially when they were toddlers. The way the two of them would toddle after an airplane mid flight with wide soft lavender eyes. Caleb also regales to them old “war stories” about being on the fleet.

They think he’s the coolest when he’s telling them these types of stories. They also try to play fight with him, all about how their evol is way stronger cause they’re younger and he’s a sad old man. He obviously beats them, never lets them truly win and it’s only after about three times does he let them succeed in “defeating” him.

The boys are just menaces, playing dangerous games like jumping off the couch like a ninja or climbing on each other’s shoulders. Jumping from the couch onto—albeit—soft cushions to play the “break my nuts” game they made up on a whim.

You and Caleb are both exhausted but happy. Yet there’s just one more thing he wants…

When Caleb gets his daughter she looks just like you. His hair but your eyes and your features. He loves her so much, adores her. The very first day you gave birth to her he wouldn’t put her down. His finger presenting itself to her tiny soft grabby little hands as she grips onto his larger finger tightly. She can’t open her eyes yet but her mouth is agape with the tiniest and most adorable little “o” as if she’s perpetually yawning. His mini pipsqueak.

The boys are rough players, and very loud, very destructive. You both cannot have nice things for long. You wonder how they’ll be.

When Caleb presents to them their baby sister they become quiet. Unknown with the little creature that sits so small and quietly in their father’s arms.

“Why is she so wrinkly?”

“Why is she so small?”

“She’s shaped like a potato.”

“She’s wrapped in a blanket, and you were small and wrinkly once like this too, y’know.” Caleb teases with a small grin.

The second oldest talks at normal voice level—loud—and Caleb has to shush him for fear of waking up the baby. They don’t think it’s much of an issue but after that they have to deal with crying in the night at fuck who knows hours and second oldest is a light sleeper so he definitely hates having the little potato around.

The boys hate how they have to tiptoe around her for the longest time while she’s this size. They’d get to a point where the oldest decides to rebel and the second son follows his lead and they both start screaming and hitting pots and pans. They’re such menaces.

Poor little Caleb’s daughter, with her baby ears and sensitive sleep schedule. He obviously yells at the boys and makes it very clear they can act like this again when she grows older.

They sort of resent her for a small period of time but grow to become fond of her when she’s a toddler. She cries less and sleeps through the night. Through exposure she’s gotten attached to her big brothers and sits by them whenever they’re watching a movie or follows them whenever they erratically walk around the house roleplaying as far space pirate.

They’re both very attentive and aware of what will hurt her, albeit not because they were taught to be Caleb but because they’ve learned to care about her safety over time. She fell down the stairs once? Her crying broke their hearts. Oldest kid kicked the stairs in anger and started crying because he hurt his foot. Second kid kicked the stairs for hurting both his older brother and baby sister, also started crying because he stubbed his toe. All in all, don’t kick the stairs.

As she grows older the boys tease her and kind of leave her out of things when they play together. They’re not exactly mean or cruel but they grew up together and prefer their boy time with one another. However, it doesn’t mean that they don’t feel bad about preferring playing sometimes without her. After they’re satisfied they also return to her with an apology and promise of the new big adventure the three of them will be on together.

When her hair’s longer, Caleb takes extra care to brush it, style it and takes care of her like he did for you when you were both younger. His little princess.

Don’t even mention boys or the possibility of her dating, it’ll break his heart knowing no one is good enough for his little girl. Not to mention the way the twins would erratically and immediately be threatening death if that boy were to do their sister wrong.

The twins inherit his abilities of gravity manipulation evol and the third inherits your abilities.

[eternallyordinary]

“He Belongs to You” - Part 5

hope you’re all enjoying the fic. this is my first one—i’ve been a longtime reader and finally decided to give writing a shot. just finished the boys, so you could say i’m a little obsessed right now.

i’d love to hear your thoughts, and if you enjoy it, reblogs mean the world to help more people find it. feel free to message me with any requests. xo

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・

Part 1<3

Part 2<3

Part 3<3

Part 4<3

Part 6<3

Part 7<3

Summary: After a whirlwind 24 hours, Homelander’s obsession with you only grows. What started as desire has become something darker, more dangerous. But when he realizes someone hurt you before, his need for control turns to vengeance—and whoever’s responsible won’t live to regret it.

Warnings: Possessiveness, power dynamics, strong language, mature content, smut, violence, sexual content, mentions of sexual assault/rape, foul language, murder, yandere (if i forgot any pls let me know <3)

The morning light filters through the window, casting a soft glow over the room. You stir slightly, still curled up in Homelander’s lap, his fingers lazily running through your hair. He hasn’t moved all night. Hasn’t slept. Not once.

He just watched over you. A silent guardian against a threat that doesn’t exist—at least, not in this moment. His body should be exhausted, but it isn’t. Just being near you keeps him alert, wired, as if you’re the only thing keeping him tethered to this world.

A small yawn escapes your lips as you stretch, blinking up at him. “Good morning.”

His hand stills in your hair for a moment before resuming, a faint smile playing at the corner of his lips.

“Morning, doll,” he murmurs, voice low and rough. “Sleep well?”

You nod, sitting up and shifting in his lap until you’re straddling him, your legs curling around his waist. “I did. Did you even sleep?”

Homelander exhales, shaking his head. “No. I didn’t.” His grip on your hips tightens slightly. “I couldn’t. Just wanted to make sure you were safe.”

You smirk. “You know I’m a supe, right?”

It’s meant to be teasing, lighthearted. But the playful glint in his eyes fades almost instantly. His grip tightens—not enough to hurt, but enough to make a point.

“I know,” he mutters, voice dark. “But you’re not as strong as me. You’re not untouchable.” His jaw clenches. “I have enemies, and if they knew what you meant to me, they’d come for you. You think I’m gonna let that happen?”

You try to lighten the mood. “I mean… I do pilates.”

A short laugh escapes him, but his hands move up, cradling your face between his palms, forcing you to look at him. His amusement vanishes.

“I’m serious.”

Your expression softens as you study him. “Who wants to hurt you?” you ask. “Who would want to hurt me?”

His blue eyes darken, full of something unreadable. “Anyone who hates me,” he says simply. “And there’s a lot of them. They’d do anything to take me down—including hurting you. And I won’t let that happen.”

His grip is unrelenting, his words heavy with promise.

You don’t answer—not with words, anyway. Instead, you reach up, threading your fingers through his golden hair before leaning in, pressing your lips against his.

He responds instantly. There’s nothing soft about the way he kisses you, no hesitation. His hands slide up your back, pulling you tighter against him, like he can’t get you close enough.

But then you pull away, laughing breathlessly as you cover your mouth. “Ew—sorry. I should’ve brushed my teeth first.”

Homelander chuckles, the tension in his body easing. “Don’t worry about it, baby,” he says, voice low and teasing. “I don’t mind a little morning breath.”

Before you can protest, he reaches up, gently pulling your hand away from your mouth, his grip firm.

“And besides…” His eyes flicker with something dangerous. Something possessive. “I like it when you’re a mess.” He smirks. “Makes me want to ruin you even more.”

“Ruin me, huh?” Your voice is teasing, but there’s a nervous edge to it as you trace the rigid contours of his suit, your fingertip gliding over the perfectly etched lines of his abs.

Homelander’s eyes darken, his grip on your hips tightening. “I will ruin you,” he murmurs, his voice thick with possession. “But only for me. No one else will know how bad you are—just me.”

Your heart pounds against your ribs. Sometimes, being around him feels so natural, like you’ve known him forever. But then there are moments like this—moments where the weight of his intensity makes you hyperaware that your life is entirely in his hands.

His gaze locks onto yours. “There’s something else you need to know,” he says.

You swallow. “What?”

His expression sharpens, deadly serious. “I can’t think about you with other people. And I don’t want to. If I ever hear about you with someone else—before me—I’ll have to hurt them. Probably kill them.” His voice is disturbingly calm, like he’s stating a fact, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “I don’t care if it was a fling. I don’t care if it was your first kiss back in grade school. There’s only before and after me now. Anyone who’s ever touched you will wish they hadn’t.”

Your breath catches. His jealousy is suffocating, terrifying—and yet, it sends a thrill down your spine.

“Well…” You hesitate, avoiding his piercing gaze. “You’re the only one who’s touched me.” You pause before correcting yourself, voice barely above a whisper. “Well… the only one I wanted to touch me.”

Homelander stiffens. His grip on you doesn’t falter, but something in his expression shifts. You regret speaking instantly.

Shit.

His blue eyes search yours, and without a word, he reaches up, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. His touch is surprisingly gentle. “Such a good girl,” he murmurs, his voice softer now, almost reverent. “It’s like you knew to wait for me.”

But he doesn’t miss the distinction in your words. The only one you wanted to touch you.

Who the fuck touched you without permission?

Names. He needs names.

A muscle in his jaw twitches, his mind already conjuring a thousand different ways to make them suffer. To make sure they regret ever laying a hand on you. To make sure they never touch anyone again.

He imagines tearing them apart, one by one, making you watch as he erases them from existence. Their names. Their families. Their homes. Everything they’ve ever loved—gone.

The thought makes his whole body tense. He shifts, readjusting himself as the dark, possessive hunger coils inside him, tightening like a vice.

But he can sense it—you’re not ready to talk about it. Not yet.

That’s fine.

You’ll tell him when you’re ready.

And when you do, he’ll make sure you watch as he destroys them all.

A knock at the door shatters the moment.

“Come in,” Homelander says smoothly—like this is his apartment, like he’s the one in control here.

Your head snaps toward him. What the fuck? You barely have time to adjust, sitting in nothing but a tank top and panties, the thin fabric of your shirt doing nothing to hide the way your nipples peek through. The door swings open, and of course, it’s Ashley.

Your boss.

Not his. He’s his own boss, you’ve come to realize.

Ashley stops in her tracks, her brows shooting up as she takes in the scene. You. Straddling him. And he—looking smug, satisfied—makes no move to let you go. If anything, his grip tightens, holding you in place like he wants her to see this. Hell, maybe he hopes she takes a picture, sends it straight to the top brass at Vought. Let them all see who you belong to.

“Hi… you two…” Ashley starts, hesitantly. She clears her throat, eyes darting between you and Homelander before settling on you. “Access Hollywood wants to do a piece on your journey to the Seven. I know people your age don’t really watch it, but it’ll be good for pulling in ratings from the 35 to 50 demographic.”

Homelander bristles. “Why the fuck does she need to pull from that demographic, Ashley?” His mind immediately goes to older men. The ones who’d watch the segment. The ones who’d look at you. They’d be his age, sure—but it’s different with him. Any other man, twice your age, interested in you? Fucking perverts.

Ashley falters. “Just, uh… covering all of our bases, sir.”

The tension in the room is suffocating. You force a smile, desperate to salvage some semblance of professionalism after the chaos of the past twenty-four hours. You don’t let Homelander speak.

“Okay. Great. I’ll get ready now,” you say quickly, trying again to lift yourself off his lap.

His hands keep you locked in place.

Fine.

You shock him with your fingertips.

“Ow! Fuck,” he hisses, just enough of a sting to loosen his hold. You smirk, tossing a blanket around yourself as you slip off him and head toward the bathroom.

He watches you disappear behind the door. The second it clicks shut, he stands, towering over Ashley.

“Why the fuck are we worried about whether forty-year-old perverts are interested in her?” His voice is low, dangerous. “Who gives a shit about ratings? She’s not doing it.”

Before Ashley can respond, a new voice cuts in.

Sage.

Standing at the door, watching the whole damn thing. Apparently, everyone is making themselves at home in your apartment.

“He’s obsessed with her,” Sage says bluntly, arms crossed. “It’s not healthy how possessive he is.”

Homelander turns, mock surprise on his face. “Oh, hi, Sage. It’s me, Homelander. I’m right fucking here.”

Sage doesn’t blink. “Let’s talk about your ratings. They’re already dogshit. You think screwing a twenty-something-year-old with a baby face is gonna help?”

His smirk fades. She knows she’s hit a nerve.

“You think I care about ratings?” His voice is sharp, seething. “She gives me something I need. Something I’ve never had before.”

Sage scoffs. “What? A tight hole? Get a grip, Homelander. You brought me onto the Seven to help you. To guide you. This? This is a stupid fucking mistake.”

His jaw tightens. He doesn’t make mistakes.

“I don’t need you to tell me what is or isn’t a mistake,” he snaps. “You work for me, remember? I make the decisions here. Not you.”

“She’s young. She’s new. You’re putting a target on her back.”

Ashley. Finally speaking up.

He barely acknowledges her, but she pushes forward.

“You have to see how reckless this is. It’s dangerous for both of you.”

Homelander clenches his fists. “I know the risks,” he grits out. “But I can protect her better than anyone. I won’t let anything happen to her.”

Ashley sighs, rubbing her temples. “By not sleeping? You look like you didn’t sleep at all last night.”

His eyes darken. “I don’t need sleep.”

“You do.”

Homelander stares at her. The audacity—speaking to him like this. But there’s no malice in her voice, just exhaustion.

“People will notice,” she continues, her voice softer now. “Just… please. Get it together.”

The room is silent.

Finally, he exhales sharply.

“Fine,” he mutters. “I’ll try to sleep.” A pause. “But I’m not letting her out of my sight.”

Sage and Ashley exchange a look—two women always at odds, finally agreeing on something.

Neither of them speak as they turn and leave, shutting the door behind them.

Homelander lowers himself onto the couch, his mind still tangled in the conversation with Ashley and Sage. Their words should mean nothing to him. But they linger.

The sound of the shower running pulls his attention away. His thoughts shift instantly—away from strategy, away from arguments—to you. Naked. Wet. Warm water cascading down your body.

His pulse quickens.

He stands. Walks toward the bathroom. His hand hovers over the handle, hesitating for only a second before pushing the door open.

Steam greets him, curling around his body as he steps inside. The air is thick with heat, fogging the mirror and the glass of the shower. But he can still see you—your silhouette blurred, water glistening on your skin.

His breath catches.

Slowly, he sheds his suit, letting the fabric fall in a careless pile on the floor. He moves toward the glass, watching you, savoring the sight. Then, without a word, he pulls the door open and steps inside.

You gasp, your arms moving instinctively to cover yourself.

He chuckles, amused. His eyes darken, his lips twitching into a smirk.

“Don’t hide from me, baby,” he murmurs, voice rough, thick with something dangerous. “I want to see all of you.”

His hands are on your wrists before you can react, pulling them away, pinning them above your head. The warmth of the water does nothing to cool the fire in his touch. He leans in, capturing your lips in a kiss—slow at first, then deeper, his tongue pressing into your mouth, claiming every inch like it belongs to him.

A soft moan escapes against his lips, and it undoes him.

Something dark, something primal stirs inside him—something he’s barely been holding back.

His grip tightens in your hair, fingers tangling at the nape of your neck as he tugs, tilting your head back. Forcing you to meet his gaze.

Blue eyes, sharp and predatory, lock onto yours. His chest rises and falls, his breath ragged. He drinks in the sight of you, wet and vulnerable beneath him, completely at his mercy.

And god, he likes it. He was ready to fuck you, to devour you. He puts his cock against your clit, rubbing small circles with his tip. He feels the way your body tenses beneath him, the shift so subtle yet impossible to ignore.

And then your words echo in his mind— You’re the only one who’s touched me.

Something dark in him—something selfish, something monstrous—wants to take, to claim, to make you his without hesitation. To ask for forgiveness later, not permission now.

But the part of him that needs you, that aches for you in ways he doesn’t fully understand, knows better.

You deserve more than that. More than him at his worst.

Your first time should be something close to heaven.

And for you, he chooses restraint. He exhales sharply, jaw tight as he pulls back, shifting himself away from your center. The need inside him rages, demanding more, but he won’t let it win.

Not with you.

You exhale, your breath finally steadying—but the moment you do, his voice cuts through the steam, firm and commanding.

“Lay down.”

He doesn’t reach for the faucet, doesn’t bother turning the water off. The warm stream continues cascading over both of you, soaking his hair until strands cling to his face, his eyes dark beneath them.

He watches you, unblinking, unmoving—his presence overwhelming in the small space.

Slowly, you lower yourself, your back meeting the wet tile, your hair fanning out around you, heavy with water.

His eyes drink you in, his voice thick with possession as he commands, “Open your legs for Daddy.”

He lowers himself onto his knees, his gaze sweeping over you with an intensity that makes your breath hitch. He studies you like a masterpiece—something rare, something fragile, something that belongs to him. He gently opens up your pussy with his fingers, slowly massaging the hood of your tiny clit.

You moan without restraint, your body reacting instinctively, back arching in ways you never thought possible. He continues to rub your clit, then he sticks a finger in.

Then 2.

Then 3.

Each thrust is slow and deliberate, a silent reminder that every part of you belongs to him. Then, with effortless strength, he lifts your legs, draping them over his shoulders, your head tilting back as pleasure overtakes you.

He aggressively kisses and sucks your clit. He’s like a rabid animal—hungry, insatiable. If he could devour you completely, he would.

He continues to suck your clit, feeling it harden. He begins to stroke his cock with purpose. Effortlessly, he uses one hand to keep you upright, his grip firm yet controlled, as if you weigh nothing at all.

“Please don’t stop, baby, please,” you beg, your voice trembling with desperation.

Homelander’s grip tightens as he looms over you, his eyes dark with possession.

“Tell me who you belong to,” he commands, his voice low and unwavering.

“You—I—I belong to you!” you cry out, your body trembling as you surrender completely to him.

Suddenly, your body tenses, a wave of pleasure crashing over you as you reach your peak. A rush of warmth spills into his mouth, and Homelander doesn’t hesitate—his lips part, tongue hanging out, greedily lapping up every drop like a man starved, as if he’s been waiting his whole life just for this. He strokes his cock with more determination—he releases a low growl and lets his cum paint your backside.

Both of you exhale. He gently releases your legs from his neck. Keeping your legs spread, he uses his cum as a lubricant to rub your clit even more.

“One day, this will be inside of you. You’re going to be such a good mommy,” he whispers, his voice dark with promise.

Your breath hitches as you sit up, hands finding their way to the nape of his neck, pulling him closer. His fingers continue their slow, deliberate movements, drawing another soft whimper from your lips. Foreheads pressed together, your breaths mix, shaky and uneven.

You come undone once more, trembling in his grasp.

“Good girl,” he murmurs against your lips, his tone dripping with satisfaction. “That’s it. Always so good for me, you know that?”

His mouth finds yours again, kissing you deeply before pulling back, allowing you a moment to breathe.

The two of you sit there on the shower floor, water cascading over your tangled bodies, the heat between you rivaling the steam filling the space. Neither of you speak, just taking a moment to absorb the weight of what just happened.

“That was…” you murmur, still breathless.

Homelander presses a kiss to your forehead, his grip on you possessive yet tender. “Come on,” he says, voice softer than usual. “You have to get ready.”

You blink up at him, confusion flickering across your face. Just a moment ago, he was adamant about you not doing the interview. What changed?

As the two of you stand, rinsing off the remnants of heat and indulgence, you finally ask, “What did they want earlier?”

Homelander doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he pulls you against him, his grip firm, his lips crashing into yours like he needs to make a point. His kiss is deep, hungry—like he’s claiming you all over again. His hands find your wrists, pinning them against his chest as he devours you, breathing you in like you’re the only thing keeping him grounded.

When he finally pulls away, his expression is unreadable, torn between frustration and something far more dangerous.

“Ashley and Sage,” he mutters, jaw tight. “Being nosy. They think I’m too obsessed with you. That I’m making a mistake.”

You smirk against his lips, tilting your head as you press another slow, teasing kiss to his mouth, letting your tongue flick against his.

“You are obsessed with me,” you whisper, your words a challenge.

Homelander growls low in his throat as you tease his lips, his grip tightening on your hips. You’re right—he is obsessed with you. Entirely. Uncontrollably.

He pulls you flush against him, pressing his body into yours like he needs to mold himself to you, like he wants to brand his presence onto your skin. His hands roam with purpose, tracing every curve, memorizing every inch.

“I am obsessed with you,” he finally admits, voice thick with an emotion he barely understands. “And it scares the hell out of me how much I need you.”

You tilt your head, your gaze steady. Don’t be scared. I won’t hurt you.

His grip loosens slightly, his expression shifting—not soft, but vulnerable, if only for a moment.

“I know,” he mutters, almost like he’s reassuring himself. “That’s what scares me. I don’t… I don’t need people. I never have. But you?” His fingers flex against your skin. “You’re different.”

You smirk, your playful nature creeping back in. “You know that’s normal, right? Well… maybe not this,” You gesture between your bodies, naked and pressed together after barely a day of knowing each other. “Never mind.” You giggle.

Homelander chuckles, shaking his head, his grip steadying you against him. “No, doll, this isn’t normal,” he agrees, smirking as he brushes wet strands of hair from your face. “But I’ve never liked normal anyway.”

He kisses you again before turning you around, his hands threading through your hair as he massages shampoo into your scalp. His touch is slow, deliberate, almost too gentle for him. He works through your hair with a care that’s foreign to him, his hands sliding down to knead your shoulders, rubbing away whatever tension lingers.

You let out a sigh, tilting your head forward. That feels so good, you murmur.

Homelander hums in satisfaction, fingers kneading deeper. “You have no idea how good it feels to touch you like this,” he mutters, his voice dipping lower. “To have you completely at my mercy.”

You glance back at him, studying his face through the steam.

“You like knowing you can hurt me, that you can end me… don’t you?” You ask. “It’s okay. You can tell me.”

His hands still for a fraction of a second. He absorbs your words, his jaw clenching, his blue eyes darkening with something unreadable.

He doesn’t deny it.

“Yeah,” he finally murmurs, his voice rough. “I do.” His fingers brush down your spine, barely touching. “I like knowing I could crush you if I wanted to. That I have all the power.” He leans in, his breath hot against your ear. “But I don’t want to hurt you. I want to protect you.”

Homelander kisses you again, slow and deep, but his mind is already elsewhere. Somewhere darker.

Your words haven’t left him. They won’t. They cling to his brain like a parasite, infecting every thought, twisting his stomach into knots of rage he hasn’t felt in a long time.

“You’re the only one who’s touched me. Well… the only one I wanted to touch me.”

His fingers twitch against your skin, his muscles tightening as he fights the urge to demand their names right now. He pictures them—whoever they are—small, pathetic, unworthy. He doesn’t need details. He doesn’t need a reason.

He just needs to hear you say the words.

Tell him who they are.

Tell him where they live.

Tell him how they did it.

And he’ll take care of the rest.

He imagines their faces caving under his fists, teeth splintering like cheap glass, their pitiful screams cutting off with the wet, sickening squelch of his fingers ripping their tongues straight from their throats. He’ll tear them open, gut them like livestock, string them up in a place only he can see so he can admire his handiwork when he’s feeling nostalgic. Maybe he’ll fly them so high the oxygen thins before dropping them—make them fall for miles, long enough to know exactly when they’re about to hit the ground, long enough to understand they’re about to die before their bodies splatter like meat against pavement.

It’s what they deserve. It’s the bare fucking minimum.

But not yet.

Not yet.

He needs to be patient. For you.

So instead of demanding answers, instead of forcing them from your lips, he just pulls you closer, pressing another soft kiss to your jaw. You don’t notice the way his fingers dig into your skin a little harder, or how his breath turns just a little more ragged. You don’t see the violent, vicious promise buried deep in his eyes as he whispers against your skin.

“One day, baby… you’re gonna tell me who they are.”

You swallow hard.

They.

You thought he forgot.

Oh, silly girl. A man like him? He doesn’t miss anything.

Homelander watches your reaction, soaking in every twitch, every breath, every slight shift in your expression. His grip on your waist tightens just enough to remind you—he’s still in control. He always will be.

His smile lingers, slow and knowing, a predator savoring the scent of fresh blood.

“I see that look, baby,” he murmurs, his voice smooth but laced with something sharper, something hungry. His fingers slide up your spine, his nails ghosting over your skin like a warning. “You didn’t really think I’d let that slide, did you?”

You don’t answer. You can’t.

Your heartbeat pounds so loudly in your ears it nearly drowns out his voice, but he hears it. Of course, he does.

He likes it.

Loves it.

Because it tells him everything he needs to know.

“Mmm.” He hums, leaning in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, his breath warm against your damp skin. “Don’t worry, sweetheart.”

His tone is soft, almost gentle, but it carries the weight of something final. A promise. A death sentence.

“I’ll take care of it.”

His lips curl, pressing a lingering kiss just below your ear as he breathes in deep—like he’s inhaling your fear, drinking it in, letting it settle deep in his lungs.

He smiles, a slow, dangerous thing.

Homelander lets the words hang in the air, heavy and absolute.

“And believe me… once I’m finished with them? They’ll beg for death.”

He says it so casually, like he’s talking about the weather. But there’s something in his voice—glee. The kind of twisted, unhinged satisfaction that sends a chill down your spine.

Your stomach knots. You should stop him. You should say something. But the way he’s looking at you? That wild, feverish glint in his eye?

It’s too late.

His mind is already painting the scene—rivers of blood, splintered bone, screams so raw they tear through vocal cords. He wants them to suffer. He wants them to hurt. To feel every ounce of pain they inflicted on you a thousand times over.

And when they’re on their knees, their bodies broken beyond repair, gasping through bloodied lips for mercy?

There won’t be any.

“I’ll make sure they remember your name,” he purrs, dragging a thumb over your bottom lip. “Right before I carve it into their fucking skulls.”

You swallow hard, your breath shaky.

He smiles. Oh, he loves this. Loves the way you react, loves the fear, the hesitation—because it confirms what he already knows.

They’re dead.

They just don’t know it yet.

[rizzoreads88]

You know what I love? Azriel didn’t have to go and save Gwyn from the blood Rite because he knew she could take care of herself. He trained her so he knew. He saved Elain because she was weak and defenseless and a damsel and sat in a tent and waited for someone to save her. And guess what Gwyn did in the Blood rite? Actually made an effort and helped and even stayed up in the tree. That was her SPYING!!!!!!! Who’s to say Azriel didn’t give her any tips during the time he went over dagger handling? Gave her tips on how to spy? It’s great foreshadowing from S.J.M!!

And I cant wait for Azriel to gift Gwyn a dagger so she can name it Silver Majesty. S.J.M gave us that for a reason. At least she’ll accep it. Unlike Elain who gave back TruthTelller. Gwyn sees Azriel’s love for daggers and it is seen in the bonus. “A comfort for every growing child.” I can’t wait for them to have a child (this was foreshadowed with the above line) and they can have bad ass warrior parents.

The next book is taking forever because S.J.M got bored writing Elain’s book so she has changed it to Gwynriel. I can’t wait for their endgame and for the rest of the Elriels to finally leave our space. Gwynriels have been here longer. It’s time for others to go now who can’t accept Gwynriel is endgame.

I don’t like people pinning Gwyn and Elain against each other but since you wanted to come in my anons doing so let’s go through all your points from canon. Both Gwyn and Elain are great characters and are strong in different ways. But now that I’ve read your fanon theories let me respond with some canon.

whether Azriel believes in Gwyns abilities or not that man cared more about his enemy Eris than when she was drugged and kidnapped by multiple men…. Is that how mates act? not according to Ruhn!

Ruhn glared at her as Hunt continued to glow and menace. It means that he’s going ballistic in the way that only mates can when the other is threatened. It’s what happened then, and what’s happening now.

Azriel may not have been able to go to the blood rite but that wouldn’t have stopped him from showing emotion around his friends if he actually cared anough to. In acowar we see azriel is full of rage and is the first to notice Elain was taken. So he will show emotion like that over Elain but not his supposed mate? lol …...it’s funny you guys try to talk around azriel not really reacting to gwyn being kidnapped to the blood right by saying “it’s bc he knew she could handle herself!” Yet cassian was there and knew Nesta could handle herself and he was still freaking out. Cassian still showed concern over Emerie and Gwyn too.

“Gwyn was spying”. So I guess everyone in the blood rite are spys now?! It’s funny Emerie and Nesta watched their enemies at times too but no one credits them to being a spy. You guys can try and claim Gwyn is a spy blahhhh but SJM doesn’t compare Gwyn to any spy tactics at all in the books. But ya know who she does? Elain. You know who they wonder if azriel is training w spy techniques? Elain lol

She scanned Elain from head to toe, wondering if she’d been taking lessons in stealth either from Azriel or the two half-wraiths she called friends.”

“Elain was again at my side. I hadn’t heard her steps. Hadn’t heard any sound for moments.”

“Elain stepped out of a shadow behind him”

“Elain was the only one who guessed. She caught me vomiting two mornings in a row.” She nodded toward Azriel. “I think she’s got you beat for secret-keeping.”

You know who’s good at keeping secrets like a spy does… Elain. You know who’s not? Gwyn lol Nesta tells Gwyn how they are looking for the trove and not tell anyone at all and what does Gwyn do? Tells Merrill

“At least gwyn would keep the dagger” In Acowar Azriel never gave Elain his dagger to keep. He lent it to her. For a side that screams Elriels have no reading comprehension I would think you’de understand this by now… the I won’t be using it today line means she can use it FOR THE DAY not keep it. So of course she gives it back after she’s done w it.

“This is Truth-Teller,” he told her softly. “I won’t be using it today—so I want you to.”

The emphasis SJM puts on the truth teller scene is that Azriel has never let anyone else touch it ever and he still lends it to Elain.

Cassian gawked at Azriel, and I wondered how often Azriel had lent out that blade— Never, Rhys said from where he finished buckling on his own weapons against the side of the wagon. I have never once seen Azriel let another person touch that knife.

It’s pretty telling how Azriel has been training Gwyn(and the other ladies) for months w daggers, has even had at least 1 private dagger lesson with Gwyn but hasn’t let her even touch truth teller ….. but sureeeee she’ll get silver majesty or gray bullet or whatever other name yall want to make for truth teller other than it’s actual name in the books.

“Elains weak Gwyn is stronger!!” First of all both ladies are bad ass. Yes Gwyn did some really cool things in the blood rite and helped fight to stay alive alongside Nesta and Emerie, but Elain killed a evil king.Fought Hybern beasts w her bare feet, and this is without any actual training. Elain has badass powers and has put them on to finding Vassa, the suriel during the war, and looking into Koschei. And let’s see what Azriel thinks of Elain.

Elain’s brows twitched toward each other. “The queen—with the feathers of flame.” The shadowsinger angled his head. Lucien murmured to me, eye still fixed on Elain, “Should we—does she need …?” “She doesn’t need anything,” Azriel answered without so much as looking at Lucien. Elain was staring at the spymaster now—unblinkingly. “We’re the ones who need …” Azriel trailed off. “A seer,” he said, more to himself than us. “The Cauldron made you a seer.”

When everyone else thought there was something wrong with her and she was going crazy… Azriel was the one who knew she didn’t need anything. Azriel was the one to figure out she was a seer. Azriel was the one who realized they needed her.

I have no idea what your going on about in that last paragraph. I’m going to read whatever SJM writes because it’s not that serious. In fact most elriels say regardless of who ends up together they will continue reading the books. It’s a lot of the gwynr/els who post about how they won’t read a Elriel book blah blah blah. But trying to say Gwynriels have been around longer? You’re funny w that one. Seeing how gwyn is only in 1 book yet elriel has been being foreshadowed since acomaf. There’s been elriels around since then.

[girl-lostconnection]

Peter smiles at you — grin so wide it’s unnatural, feverish blue of his eyes glimmering with phantom heart-shaped reflections. Like your existence alone is reason enough to be ecstatic.

Peter is always there, somehow, miraculously he’s nearby and yeah, the town sure is small, what a coincidence that is, don’t you think, darling? At least he can reach for you the higher shelves in the supermarket and help when your bag gets torn and give you a ride home (he gets you back and you don’t realise until later that he didn’t ask for your address).

Fate sure is mysterious, isn’t it, love?

Peter who doesn’t tell his name immediately, his giggles so girly it would be endearing if he didn’t tower over you at all times, fingers twitching to reach out and touch-touch-touch.

Hug and hold you, sink long thin fingers in your soft giving flesh, get knuckle deep in the wet heat of yours, get handfuls of you in both palms.

The urge so strong he has to actually take a step back, smile a little wider, eyes a little more manic. Thought pounding inside his skull like someone forces a nail down. Touch-touch-touch.

Just this once, just for a moment, just a little bit.

But he never does. Can’t seem to eager, can’t make bad first impression, can’t he?

Should keep himself in check or he risks slipping a little too early and then you won’t be going anywhere.

He simply won’t be able to let you go, that would be impossible, darling, he just can’t, okay? You gotta be careful too or you risk meeting the side of him you may be not ready to see.

Peter brings you bouquets and single roses, his fluency in flower language layering every his gift with hidden meanings and hidden meanings of hidden meanings because the language is dubious at best but somehow he seems to be getting his point across perfectly.

Peter who is there when your dates stand you up, when they leave you waiting and never arrive, not even bothering with “sorry, change of plans”. He is gentle and sweet — candy floss melting on your teeth, his eyes melting you.

Peter is soft taunts and high pitched giggles when you finally laugh, your eyes crinkling in the corners and oh, this is bad. He’s in too deep.

Peter whose hand gets draped over your shoulders, lips pressing a small kiss to the crown of your head, jokes a little darker, smiles a tad more relaxed.

“— He asked me to come to the garden and then, next thing I know — he’s nowhere to be found. Can you imagine? I never found him there.

— Have you tried to dig, darling?”

His joke sits in your head for the next few weeks, his joke an ominous warning you will remember in the next few years because Peter is not going anywhere.

Peter fills up every available space in your life, soaking through your routines, slotting himself inside of your existence.

He’s there for college graduation and internships, for work and grocery shopping, for rent payments and dinners and movie nights and amusement park rides and bookshop dates and—

Peter is everywhere and all at once, he’s the new best friend, best guy, best emergency contact.

Best boyfriend. Your boyfriend, darling.

Peter whose existence cancels out everyone else’s, who takes so much time there is not much left to anyone else. These people should be more understanding to you if they want to be your friends, darling.

The rope around your neck tightening with every executive decision he makes, memory of his dark joke that doesn’t leave you no matter what.

Have you tried to dig, darling?

Peter who’s there for birthdays and Christmas celebrations and independence days and Valentines and 8th of March and everything else.

Every day, every hour, every your breathing moment he slowly fills up until there is nowhere else to go.

Until you notice that you haven’t been out with anyone but him in months, your friends no longer texting, no one checking in with you, some contacts simply vanishing, chats getting deleted.

You know, darling if there is no more space to go he’ll have to make some.

After all, what’s so wrong with pushing few unnecessary people out? He’s all you need, he’s everything you would ever want, isn’t he, darling?

Peter who smiles and kisses you in the mornings, his hands now always on you, his fingers intertwined with yours — he hooked and sank you before you realised he was dragging you down, water filling your lungs, his eyes — feverish blue with heart-shaped reflections.

Have you tried to dig, darling?

Peter never leaves and never lets you leave, sending you Pinterest boards with wedding ideas and measuring your ring finger. Winter or spring, darling? He bets you would look gorgeous no matter the season but the future spouse surely has to have a say in the matter.

Peter doesn’t see need for big guest lists because after all he is there and you are there. No need for too many people and too many eyes and too many chances to lose you in the crowd. That just won’t do.

Peter is sweet candy floss on your teeth, sugar grinding you down, rope tightening until you can’t breathe and can’t scream. Trap clapping shut, his ring shining on your finger, his eyes crinkling with excitement.

You are his forever. He is yours always.

You come back to the same fucking garden your years-old date never came to. Same garden he picked you up from, always so conveniently close, always on the periphery of your life until you loosened your guard and let him in.

There is a new bush in there — lilies blooming so hard your eyes water from intense cloying smell.

Lilies that never were there before, old dark joke pounding from inside your skull, Peter’s hands wrapping around your waist as he grins down at you. Like you two share a secret no one else knows about

Have you tried to dig, darling? Would you like to start now?

[sirius-crowley-immortaltwinks]

Taxi

Taxi -March 1 @rosekillermicrofic wc: 610

cw: mentions of vomit and implication of bad family life (not directly mentioned)

“What do you mean you won’t let me use my phone to get an Uber?” Barty slurred. Regulus had taken his keys and phone long ago, knowing his best friend long enough to know that the bastard would try to drive home himself or use his phone for some ungodly reason that is best left to the imagination. 

“Because Barty, you are completely wasted. If you want to keep your head, you can’t use your phone.” Regulus responded, trying to be the voice of reason. Both have been on the receiving end of their parents' wrath for sullying their "good" name for causing problems while 7 or 8 or 9 drinks under. “I’ll get a taxi.” 

Successfully flagging down a taxi was no difficulty for the two heirs to the Crouch and Black fortunes. Everyone recognized them, therefore everyone stopped. A taxi stopped and the two (with much struggle on Barty’s part) slid into the back seat. 

“Where you two headed?” The driver turned to look at the two males and Barty was speechless. Even though his vision was loopy and he was pretty sure he had lost a contact lens at some point, this man was the picture of beauty. Well a picture of beauty and danger. He looked dangerous. He was built like a brick wall. That much could be seen through the man’s shirt. His eyes were the most gorgeous eyes Barty had ever seen. 

“Barty Crouch Jr.” Barty introduced himself, holding out his hand. “Enchante.” The male raised an eyebrow, while Regulus looked at Barty mortified. 

“Rosier.” The driver responded. “And there’s no way in hell I’m kissing your hand.” 

“I am so sorry about that.” Regulus said, pulling Barty’s hand back. “Black tower.” 

“Hey man, it’s alright.” Rosier said to Regulus. “Your mate isn’t the first one I’ve picked up tonight who’s had a few too many.” 

“I have not had a few too many!” Barty exclaimed. “I can hold my liquor just fine, thank you. And I am offended you would suggest otherwise.” 

“Barty, you need sleep.” Regulus groaned, checking his watch, taking note of the time. 3 AM. Seriously regretting letting Barty talk him into going out tonight. The two of them both have multiple meetings to attend tomorrow and he hardly doubts his brother would be willing to go to them in his place. 

“No, what I need is some action.” Barty said with finality. “We need to find a club.” Then he directed his attention to Rosier. “Take us to a club. Doesn’t matter which, just one of them.” 

“Do not even think about it. I will pay you extra for a straight ride to the building.” 

“Don’t worry Mr. Black. We’re almost there.” Rosier responded. And with that the cab pulled in front of Black Tower. Reg quickly got out of the car but was too late as Barty vomited all over the back of the cab and Regulus.  

“BARTY!” Regulus shouted then turned to Rosier who was laughing his ass off in the front seat. “I am so sorry for my friend. He is a fucking moron. I’ll pay to get this cleaned up.” 

Rosier just waved him off. “Don’t even worry about it.” Regulus handed him a wad of cash then started to help Barty into the building when a whistle caught his attention. 

“Hey Mr. Black!” Rosier shouted, out of the open window of the cab. “Give this to your friend. Tell him to give me a call.” 

Regulus took the piece of paper with a messily scrawled set of numbers, with a promise to give it to Barty before helping the intoxicated male into the building.

[holylulusworld]

SHG for killers (3) - The second meeting

Summary: 6 men meet up to talk about their problems. They soon realize they need someone to help them solve their problems. This person is you. Whether you like it or not.

Pairing: Steve Kemp x fem!Reader, Lloyd Hansen x fem!Reader, Robert Pronge (Mr. Freezy) x fem!Reader, Andy Barber x fem!Reader, God, the bounty hunter x fem!Reader, Ransom Drysdale x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, hostage situation, language, kidnapping, plot twist

A/N: Please consider Steve Kemp is not a cannibal in my story. This is an AU. All men are serial killers, killers, or hitmen.

SHG for killers (2) – You (the reader)

Self-help group for killers masterlist

“What do you mean?” Lloyd is in Barber’s face. He growls profanities before pushing the lawyer out of his way. “That’s the woman on your phone. And I can tell, you have a fucking lot of pictures on your phone of her. Even some in her bathtub.”

“She’s not my therapist,” Andy argues while stepping toward you, sitting in the middle of their fucked-up self-help group.

You assisted your boss more than once with groups like these. Usually, they are middle-aged women or men who are unhappy with their mediocre lives.

They nag about their sex life, jobs, and even food only to feel better. Most of them never had real problems or even got close to having problems.

You on the other hand just got kidnapped by a group of crazy guys, and one creep. Andy Barber, a first class creep, second-class lawyer.

“F—er,” you growl behind the gag and glare at Andy. He got you into this shit show, so he can get you out of it. “L—go.”

“No letting go of you, Cupcake,” the guy with the mustache, Lloyd, says. His bruised balls don’t seem to stop him from getting cocky and being an asshole.

“She’s not his therapist, for fuck’s sake,” Robert steps in. “Do you want me to get rid of her? I can make you a good price.”

Whimpering, you try to scramble away from the scary-looking guy. He smirks while getting a gun out.

“What did we say about weapons at our meetings?” Ransom sighed deeply. “Last time, you almost stabbed God’s eye out, only because he wanted to eat the last donut.”

“It was a cronut, but this doesn’t matter now,” Robert brushes Ransom’s comment off. “She won’t be helpful so, we are going to get rid of her, one way or another.”

“Christ, we won’t kill her!” Andy barks now, making you flinch. “How could you kidnap her, Hansen? You see one picture of a woman and decide to go out there and kidnap her? You burned her place down too. Do you honestly believe there won’t be consequences?”

“He’s not wrong,” Kemp brings in. He watches you cower on the ground, feeling a little more excited. “The cops will ask questions. When and where did you take her? Did you check for cameras? What about her home? Did anyone see you?”

Lloyd turns toward the doctor like in slow motion. He growls his name before tackling him to the ground. You giggle when they start to wrestle because it seems tackling people to the ground is Lloyd’s thing.

“What’s so funny?” Ransom grunts. He sneaked closer to you to poke your arm. “They are going to kill you.” The bastard in a baby-blue sweater says. He looks familiar, but you can’t remember where you have seen his face before.

“Ransom, leave her alone,” Andy finally steps toward you. He grabs you by your waist to haul you up, making you groan. “Whatever happened here, is not my fault. I want you to know that.”

“Cr—p,” you grunt behind the gag. The men stop fighting as Andy helps you sit on one of the chairs.

“HANDS OF BARBER!” Lloyd is back on his feet to push Andy away from you. He removed the gag, hoping you’ll forgive him if he brings you somewhere safe.

“SHUT UP, HANSEN! Andy bites back. “You can’t even kidnap the right woman. No wonder you had to find a self-help group. You get nothing done on your own.”

“Oh yeah?” Lloyd cocks his head and flips Andy the bird. “Please enlighten me, Mr. Barber. How are you going to help me?”

“I will delete the footage,” Andy begins. “I bet you waited for her at the underground car park. Did you check on the cameras at her apartment complex or the one on the other side of the street?” He chortles when Lloyd blanches. “I guess not. Good thing the boring lawyer is here to take care of your ass, isn’t it.”

Andy pats Lloyd’s cheek, earning a growl from the man kidnapping you. “Get your fucking hands off me, Barber.”

“What are we going to do now?” God finally asks. He glances at you, humming as you size him up. “She’s pretty, and I like her hair. Can we keep her?”

“We are not going to keep her,” Pronge and Kemp grunt in unison.

“I wouldn’t mind eating a cookie of her coochie,” Ransom eyes you like his latest meal. “I bet she makes naughty noises when getting tongue fucked.”

“Fuck off, Drysdale,” Lloyd is in the arrogant-looking man’s face. He pushes him around, roughing him up a little until the man raises his hands in surrender. “That’s my Cupcake, and I’ll eat it.”

“No one will eat shit,” you finally found your voice. “You sick weirdos will bring me back home, or I’ll scream until your ears are bleeding. And believe me, I can get on your nerves so much that you will lose your mind.”

Andy grins. Your temper and cockiness were the reason he got obsessed with you. “Y/N, they are not as nice as I am. How about you do not threaten a room full of killers.”

“Losers,” you huff and glare at Andy. “You better not think I do not know about all of your little problems.” You drop your eyes to his crotch. “How long since you had an erection? Months, years?”

Ransom is having a blast watching you dismantle Andy. He’s munching cookies, chuckling now and then as you throw insults at the lawyer.

“I saw you snap pictures of me more than once, you fucking creep.” You curl your upper lip.

“I was bored and,” Andy sighs deeply. “It was wrong of me to take pictures of you, that’s true but…” He looks away and fakes a whimper. “You were the first woman I was interested in since my wife died.”

“Man, you are using your dead wife to get laid,” Kemp snorts. “That’s a new low, Barber, even for you.”

“Says the guy fucking his dead partner’s wife,” Andy snaps at Steve. “Who is a creep here? Don’t think we do not know it was you killing him.”

“Everyone knows you have a tiny wiener in your pants,” God throws in, not looking at one of the other men in the room.

“What?” They suddenly all say.

It’s seconds later that they all start to argue. Punches get thrown, and they start to scream at each other.

“Guys…” You roll your eyes as they won’t stop arguing. “GUYS!”

They stop fighting each other to look at you. You cock your head to look at Lloyd. “I’m not his therapist but I studied psychology. I just never graduated. I could try to help you with your…problems, though.”

[cryingatwindermerepeaks]

Yellowjackets Agere Hcs and Moodboards

Lottie: she regresses very young 0-5 mainly, but even when she is feeling a bit older it’s harder to tell because she doesn’t talk. She likes being called “sweetheart” but also any kind of animal themed pet name like “doe” or “baby bear”. A lot of the time when she’s little the others will call her “Lots” and under no circumstances can anyone call her Charlotte. Very quiet bub, almost entirely nonverbal unless she’s alone with Nat - her primary cg. She knows a few basic signs in ASL but not enough to properly communicate and the other girls don’t really know anything but figure out what she means eventually. The only things she will say is like “mama” or the equivalent for different characters and usually she’s not even talking to them just babbling to herself. Unless she’s having a particularly bad episode of visions or thoughts she’s a very happy baby. She is giggly and smiley and just happy to play with anyone or help out with chores. She LOVES story time with Van and sometimes if she’s feeling extra brave she’ll whisper story requests in Van’s ear. She has one of those blankies with a stuffie attached from when she was growing up, it’s pink and soft on one side and floral on the other… at least it once was, now it’s very tattered and faded but she always carries it around with her. The stuffie is a cat, it’s called Daisy. That’s the one toy no one else is allowed to touch. She also has a paci which she uses pretty much constantly. She’s the queen of parallel play and is sooo happy just to sit and mind her own business next to anyone. When she is having a bad day she becomes sniffly and clingy and very panicked. She hates having scary thoughts and sometimes turns to less than helpful coping mechanisms but the others are quick to catch on and Nat can always calm her down. After a particularly bad episode she almost always regresses and spends a few days just lying around with her stuffies. Nat never ever leaves her side during this time and will give her soup and cuddles till she feels better. Nat will slowly coax her outside to sit on the porch for some fresh air and it always helps. She’s definitely still a klepto when she’s small but she only ever does it because she thinks it’s funny. Someone will notice something small (like a spoon or a cup) has gone missing and then look up to see Lottie poorly hiding a giggle and holding something behind her back. She does learn very quickly not to take anything that belongs to Shauna. She loves playing tea parties and she’ll set them up and then drag whoever is nearby over to play. I like to think they make paints out of rocks and water and Lottie loves to make paintings. She follows Laura Lee around a lot when they are both little - Laura Lee is very good at knowing what Lottie is trying to say without her having to say anything. *when she’s not little she loves taking care of Laura Lee <3*.

Laura Lee: regresses 1-5 but unlike Lottie is always very articulate. She’ll talk to herself, she’ll talk to Leonard, she’ll talk to Lottie even when she knows she won’t get a response. She loves reading and Van is always very patient and sits with her and helps her read. Leonard obviously never leaves her side. She takes him on walks and tells him what she can see. Sometimes during story time Van will put Leonard on her lap and use a silly voice to pretend he’s reading. She’s the happiest baby 99% of the time. She doesn’t get irritated when Lottie quietly follows her around all day or upset when Shauna is having a tantrum so she can’t play with the toys she wants to use. She does get upset sometimes but tries to hide it because she doesn’t want to be a bother. She’ll go off and cry into Leonard’s fur but Lottie is insanely in tune with Laura Lee’s emotions and she’ll go help her out or if Lottie’s feeling too little she’ll make sure to find someone (usually Nat) who can. Usually she gets darling, sweetheart, sweetness or flower when she’s small. Van always calls her ‘clever little one’ and it makes her feel so proud. She’s super content with all of the cgs and doesn’t really have a favourite but she does spend a lot of time around Nat because she spends so much time around Lottie.

Van: cg!!! I don’t think they have a specific little but all of the littles love Van. They love story time, they love the silly games van comes up with and van can always make everyone laugh. I think cg names vary for van - nothing really gender specific but a lot of them have taken to calling her bubby !! Will always hold a little on their lap during story time (especially if one of them has been having a particularly bad day) and rock on the rocking chair. She has the best voices for all the stuffies when she plays with littles or reads stories.

Nat: usually a cg, mainly just because regressing generally isn’t very pleasant for her. It really takes a lot for her to regress - I think in s3 e4 she’s feelin’ pretty small. when she does regress I’d say anywhere from 3-6. when she’s big she is the most patient cg in the world. everyone thinks nat is tough n everything but she’s really so gentle with the littles, especially lottie who struggles to communicate her emotions. and she’s all smiley when the babies are smiling. she can calm anyone down. mainly the littles call call her ma or mama depending on how little they are feelings. I don’t know what it is about Nat but whenever any of the littles find something super cool like a rock or leaf they run up to show her.

Misty: regresses around 4-12, she’s definitely older and loves getting to take care of the younger ones (especially if it means the cgs praise her for being helpful). Shes usually very happy when she’s small and wants to play with everyone but if some people don’t want to include her in their games *cough cough* little Shauna and Jackie *cough cough* she will throw a fit. She tends to gravitate towards Nat when she’s upset because she knows Nat won’t take sh*t from anyone and will make sure she’s included in the games. She loves to sing and dance and put on little performances for everyone. Jackie I think also LOVES starring in these performances. She has this vintage baby doll called Clarissa which she adores and treats like a real baby but it creeps out everyone else (except lottie).

Jackie: regresses 3-7. She’s the most energetic little, she always wants to play tag or climb a tree. But she’s also such a princess about it. She refuses to get her hair messy or touch mud. Her regression is very deeply connected to Shauna’s they are almost always together if one of them is regressed. She can be very headstrong and if Jackie wants to play a game then they are playing that game. Other than Shauna she is very hesitant towards any cg figure at first, eventually she eases into it though. She has definitely tried to start a bunch of clubs, most of which have required cg intervention because she was being a bit controlling. She’s literally a fairy princess who rides horses in her ballgown and has a sword and single handedly battles off armies of evil goblins. She’s a big fan of pacis, she has plenty and she uses them regardless how old she’s regressed to. Sometimes she gets a bit shy about it because not all of the littles use pacis and if so usually only the younger ones, but Nat in particular is very good at calming her down about it. She loves doing everyone’s hair!!! She tries her best to be a good friend to everyone all the time, even if she doesn’t always know how. She has a toy bunny called Peter. She HATES chores. She’ll do them, but you can bet she’s going to be whining the whole time.*if she’s big and Shauna is little she’s the biggest enabler ever and will indulge Shauna so much*

Shauna: regresses 3-7, same as Jackie. They are usually very in tune with their ages and often called ‘the twins’. She’s equally as rambunctious but couldn’t care less if she gets her hands dirty. She wants to make mud pies and make fake swords out of sticks. This is where being close with Melissa really comes in handy because Melissa is always happy to roughhouse a bit more than Jackie is. She’s a biter, obviously, and spends a lot of time in timeout for biting or taking a game too far. Shes looooves teethers and has heaps - sometimes she forgets to use them but the second someone notices her getting worked up they’ll just hand her a teether. She’s extremely jealous - especially of Tai and Jackie. If Tai is sitting curled up with Van, Shauna will wiggle her way in between to get cuddles from her Mama. If Jackie is playing with someone else Shauna will get pouty and grumpy and throw a fit. Jackie is equally as jealous so they even each other out. She loves story time with Van and sometimes she gets to help Van write new stories for the littles to read. If Shauna is getting really worked up Van will distract her by asking if she’s had any story ideas. She’s super attached to Tai. She’s always trying to hold Tai’s hand or babbling to tai about anything. Tai is the only one who can get her in trouble - she will literally just ignore the other cgs if they tell her off. She has a stuffed dog toy called Rupert. He’s a German shepherd and is best friends with Peter, Jackie’s bunny. They have a treehouse and Shauna loves to pretend she’s the guard. She gets called pup and kiddo a lot. She often gets baby from Tai but only Tai or Van can call her that. *she’s extremely good with Jackie when Jackie is little and she’s big, she’s super patient with her*

Tai: Shauna’s mama <3 she loves taking care of everyone but is especially good with Shauna. She loves making shadow puppets for the littles on the wall to act out whatever is happening in Van’s stories. Amazing for cuddles and the littles like to pile up on her. Tai gets extra scared about hurting the littles when she’s sleepwalking and gets super anxious about it. Definitely always the voice of reason and mediator for any arguments. The littles love to do drawings or paintings and show them to her because she always tells them how proud she is. Obviously they don’t have a fridge to hang the artworks on but they dedicate a small wall of the cabin to all the little’s artworks.

Travis: regresses 3-7. He doesn’t regress a lot and when he does he’s super shy about it. If Nat’s regressed and not super distressed they play a lot together. In fact, the only time Nat really regresses happily is when they go out for a hunt but end up spending the day chasing each other through the forest. He loves playing with little wood carved animals. I don’t think he regressed at all before the crash, hence why he’s extra hesitant about it.

Coach Scott: he’s everyone’s papa <3 peak girl dad. all of the littles adore him. They are always rambling to him about their games or their stories - they really want him to be proud of them. He’s amazing for hugs, they’ll curl up in his arms and he gives great bear hugs. Laura Lee sometimes begs him to go on walks with her because she gets worried about him being cramped up in the cabin and she’s super patient with how long it takes him. Jackie likes to decorate his crutches with flowers and vines she finds. He learns how to plait and in the morning the girls take it in turns to sit on the floor in front of him so he can braid their hair. He teaches them how to skip rocks and they all have competitions to see who’s can go the furthest.

Melissa: regresses around 5-8. Loves playing with Shauna and they have sword fights all the time. Loves getting called Champ or Buddy. Has a stuffed toy frog called Gregory. Gravitates towards Tai and Van as cgs. Built a rope swing out of rope and a branch hung around a tree and looooves to play with it. (idk how to explain it but I had one growing up and it was the most fun ever… also causes a lot of bashing into trees). Doesn’t like to sit still at all.

[ancha-aus]

Bitty Surprise - Chapter 3 - Pov Nightmare

It is Sunday! and that means the weekly chapter update! We are back with the bitties <3

Third Chapter!

First Chapter: [Here] AO3 link: [Here]

*---------------------------------------------------*

Nightmare chuckles as he looks at the list Cross and Killer gave him.

Cross rubs his hands together as he stands by the exit “And remember slow movements. We have only just managed to get him to agree to some soft pets after all these weeks. And first the fruit! Only after he ate some fruit some cookies. And make sure to leave double the amount so he can put some aside for his friend and-”

Nightmare puts a hand on Cross’s shoulder and he immediately stops. Nightmare gives him a reassuring smile “I know Cross. I have helped set up the routine remember? And this is not the first time I visit him.”

Almost two months had passed and they had settled into a nice rhythm. Throughout the week Cross and Killer would manage to visit Axe, they had managed to come to an agreement for the nickname after about two weeks, at least once or twice a day. Sometimes the two go together and they then spend quite some time in the shop. Some days they can only manage a short visit. Other days they can’t go together and then one goes in the morning and the other near the end of the afternoon.

Nightmare wishes he could spend more time with their bitty but he has his work to help the balance still, not to forget his responsibilities for the universes he rules. Through ruling is a bit of an overstatement as he mainly just owns the property. Either way, usually the balance doesn’t need a lot of maintenance. Normally it goes well but some days it shifts into either direction. It helps that Dream is now also actually alert and aware and helps with the balance.

Even if Nightmare wishes Dream would stop looking at him with only regret in his soul. Even if he wishes Dream would just be willing to see his side instead of just believing himself to be correct as he is trying to increase positivity.

Well it isn’t something he can fix. Dream won’t ever be able to accept that this is who Nightmare is now and not that he is just some corruption from the apples. Nightmare has peace with it…

It doesn’t matter.

What matters now is his new… family. Cross and Killer are his family now and he is happy they decided to stay with him. Nightmare is honestly not sure what he would do with himself if they decided to leave.

Yes he knows it is slightly sad how dependent he is on the two but neither seem to mind and both seem to actually enjoy living with him.

But he is getting off topic. Today is an unusual day as it is Nightmare will be the one who visits the store alone. Nightmare had finished all of his work earlier this week and Cross and Killer had agreed to do the maintenance for their tenants. All just to enable Nightmare to spend some quality time with their bitty on his own.

He truly appreciates both of them more than he can express correctly into words.

Which means that today it will just be Nightmare and Axe. Nightmare is actually looking forwards to it. He has packed the food for Axe and a good book for himself.

He is going to spend some time interacting with the bitty and when it seems like Axe is done Nightmare will go to the park to read until it is late enough to try again with Axe.

Killer pulls on Cross’s arm “We are going to be late. It is fine. Boss got this, he kept us both alive after all.”

Cross blushes and sputters before shooting Killer a glare.

Nightmare chuckles “Have fun on your mission.” Then as an afterthought “If you find any interesting books please take them along.”

Killer grins brightly “Got it boss!” and he pulls Cross with him “Say hi to Axe for us! And tell us what he thought about the present!” and Killer tugs on Cross’s arm.

Cross huffs as he takes out his blade. He shoots Nightmare one more look but visibly relaxes when Nightmare nods at him. Cross makes a slice in the air and a portal opens. Nightmare watches them go through together and the portal mends itself shut again.

The castle is immediately too quiet.

Nightmare quickly grabs the bag he had prepared; holding the food, presents and his book, and leaves himself.

Nightmare arrives early in the neutral universe and he takes a breathe of relieve. Isolation isn’t as tempting and reassuring as it used to be.

It is very early still but Nightmare doesn’t mind. He quickly finds the same bakery as before and enters it. A quick conversation later and he managed to place an order for some fresh cinnamon rolls for Killer and some of those cube croissants for Cross. All of which Nightmare will be able to pick up later on his way home. Nightmare also takes a fresh assortment of macarons, he has taken an liking to them himself and Axe seems to enjoy them.

Nightmare is rather picky about his food. He does not enjoy the activity of chewing and most textures. These work as they are rather light but have strong flavours for him to enjoy.

With that done he makes his way to the park to read the first chapter of his book. It is an interesting tale about someone having lost their memories and going on a mission to retrieve them. Nightmare reads for some time until the sun has risen far enough to imply the store would be open.

Nightmare packs up his book and makes his way to where Axe lives. He hopes all has been going well for the bitty. There have been people in the store before that said rude things about the tall bitty and his wounds.

Nightmare can admit he is curious himself but aside from the first time that Axe pointed to the wound he hasn’t referred to it again. So none of them had mentioned it either. Nightmare knows how annoying the questions about his tendrils get and won’t subject Axe to similar questions. He will tell them when he wants to and that is fine.

He gets to the bitty store and opens the front door.

Lambert, the child of the store’s owner and future owner, looks up from a list they are making. They smile brightly at Nightmare “Nightmare! It is great to see you again!” a curious look over his shoulder before their emotions turn hopeful “You… are alone today?”

Nightmare nods “Indeed I am. I was hoping to spend more time with Axe. I brought a few things we thought he might like.”

Lambert smiles brightly as they lay their list to the side and rush to his side “Of course! Honestly I am so surprised with how quickly you are bonding with him.” they walk towards the right cage together “It is amazing to see!” Lambert plays a bit with their wool as they keep glancing at Nightmare.

Nightmare still isn’t used to having others be… happy to see him. Much less the very specific interest Lambert feels near him. Nightmare tries not to encourage it, he isn’t interested in such things… At least not from Lambert.

They get to the right cage and Nightmare feels himself smile “Hello again Axe.”

Axe sits in his usual spot near the window but does fully turn around, still sitting cross legged as he stares at Nightmare. A small smile starts to grace his face but then Axe sees Lambert and Nightmare feels the familiar annoyance and irritations return.

Nightmare turns to Lambert “I got it from here, I wouldn’t want to keep you from your work. If I have any questions I know where to find you.”

Lambert stares before blushing and smiling “Of course! Yes! Obviously!” they wait a moment longer before pointing over their shoulder “I should… do my job… have fun!” they smile brightly at Axe “Have a good day and be good little guy!” and Lambert leaves.

Nightmare turns back to Axe and chuckles at the insulted look he aims at Lambert. “Do they still annoy you?”

Axe focusses on him and takes a moment before shrugging as he looks down. He is holding a small piece of very soft wood and an even smaller needle of some kind.

Nightmare pulls over the barstool they had moved into this corner and sits on it, it makes sure he is still on eye level with Axe but now he doesn’t have to stand “What are you doing?”

Axe blinks up and raises his two hands. Showing the wood and needle, or is it a very tiny knife? Nightmare studies it. It seems parts have been carved away, interesting.

Nightmare nods as he focuses on Axe “Are you wood carving?” Axe nods and Nightmare smiles “A present of your friend? Renegade?”

Renegade had been a name that Killer thought of for Axe’s mysterious partner in crime, as Cross called him. None of them had actually seen the second bitty but tiny presents kept being exchanged between the two and all the food was being eaten so they knew the other bitty was visiting. They had decided on the name Renegade because this bitty was someone wild and rejected the way things used to be for bitties. Or that is how Killer had explained it. Axe hadn’t shown any objection to the nickname for his bonded and so they kept it up.

Axe shoots him a look at his question but nods.

Nightmare smiles “That is very thoughtful of you. What are you making at the moment?”

Axe feels unsure and embarrassed for some reason but eventually pulls over an old looking cut out of a bunny. And now that Nightmare can see the reference he can see the ears starting to take shape. Nightmare nods and tells Axe as much.

Axe looks away and a tiny blush appears at the comment.

Nightmare frowns “Did no one compliment your carvings before?” the movement is practised and skilled. There is no way that Axe hasn’t done carvings before.

Axe shrugs and points to the window. Meaning that Renegade did.

Nightmare smiles “Well, I am sure that with Renegade liking them that is all the proof necessary to prove they are good.”

Axe dugs his skull even more and more embarrassment fills the air.

Nightmare can’t help but chuckle as he turns to his bag and searches it “Talking about you, your friend and presents.” He pulls out two tiny presents. Carefully packed by Cross. He turns back towards Axe. He raises his hand towards the cage opening and pauses “May I?”

Axe looks curious at the packages before nodding. Nightmare slowly opens the cage and lowers the two presents inside. Once the packages are down he returns his hand. He doesn’t lock the cage again as he is still planning on giving food and snacks later.

Axe keeps a careful eye on him until his hand is all the way back by his side before he rises to his feet and walks over to the two presents. Axe frowns at the packages before looking back up at Nightmare.

Nightmare smiles “The one with the red ribbon is yours. The one with blue is for Renegade but we all understand if you want to check his present beforehand.”

Axe frowns but grabs Renegade’s present first and opens it carefully. Taking great care to not rip the paper or the ribbon. He folds away the paper and sliders open the matchbox they had used to conceal the present.

Axe stares in shock as he pulls out the bright blue hoody. And afterwards some pants and a warm red scarf.

Nightmare makes sure to keep his voice quiet as he speaks “We weren’t sure what size your friend is so we went for the standard size. If it is too small please tell us so we can switch it. We also figured Renegade would like some clean clothes with him roughing it up outside.”

Axe rubs the soft cotton carefully before folding it back into the matchbox and closing it, after which he takes the time to fold the packing paper back around the present and tying the ribbon again. It isn’t the same quality as it was before but it is still damn good.

Axe stares for a long time at the present. He feels confused and Nightmare is unsure about what exactly. Axe then turns to the his own present and opens it. Again with the same careful and controlled movements.

It is strange to see someone this tiny move with the care that Axe is, as if he is afraid of breaking something.

Axe finishes unpacking his present and retrieves the outfit they had picked out for him. Nightmare had notices the Axe always wore the same dirty shirt. They wanted to give him a comfortable, warm and clean outfit. Something nice to wear.

They didn’t go for anything too complex or restricting. The jacket they picked for Axe is a neutral blue, matching with the one for Renegade but instead it was filled with pure white fluff to isolate the material and keep him warm.

Nightmare knows that a headwound messes with one’s ability to regulate their warmth and with it becoming autumn they just want to make sure Axe is warm.

Axe studies the new outfit before quickly disappearing into this small hideout. Nightmare watches him disappear inside before he turns to the food he brought along.

Nightmare takes out the cut strawberries and bananas. He takes care to carefully open the cage and leaves the offering inside before removing his hand. Best to give it now before Axe returns, this way Nightmare won’t stress him with moving his hand into Axe’s space again.

Axe returns wearing the new clothes and Nightmare smiles “It fits you very well, you are a very handsome bitty.”

Axe blushes again and hides his skull in his little hood now.

Nightmare chuckles “I am happy you like it. I brought strawberries and banana today. I also brought some macarons but only after your fruits.”

Axe pulls a face and rolls his eyes. Familiar annoyance but he walks over towards the food and starts to eat, only after he carefully separated the offering into two different portions.

Nightmare watches him for a moment and Axe just ignores him. Nightmare waits until Axe is finished before asking a question that has been nagging him “Does Renegade not find enough food outside?”

Axe pauses before shooting him a frown. He shakes his skull before tilting it. Clearly confused.

Nightmare frowns “It is just. You always make sure to have a portion for him ready. I was wondering if that was because you thought he wasn’t eating enough or afraid he didn’t get enough.”

Axe frowns as he looks down at the food he prepared. Then he shrugs. Probably unable or unwilling to answer the complex answer.

Nightmare watches him for a moment before smiling “It isn’t bad in anyway of course. It is sweet you try and help him and take care of him. I am sure he appreciates your efforts a lot. I was just worried myself, that is all.” he doesn’t want to accidentally make Axe doubts his actions.

Axe waits a moment before nodding again. Afterwards he gets up and starts moving the dish with fruits over to the window spot along with the present for Renegade.

Nightmare watches him work for a moment before pulling out his book and picking up his reading again. It is nice to just have someone living and moving nearby as he reads. It is why he loves having the other skeletons in the castle as he works.

Makes him feel less alone.

A small tap on the bars and Nightmare looks over to see Axe right by his side. Axe notices he has his attention and points at the book. Nightmare blinks as he looks at it “It is a new book I started. I am still early in the story. It is about a person who lost all their memories and is on a journey to reclaim them and learn who they were. They have found another person to travel with who is looking for history on a tragedy that happened to their hometown. They are now traveling towards a mysterious labyrinth that is supposed to hold the answers.”

Axe looks considered and nods before looking away.

Nightmare frowns “If you want to, you can read along.”

Axe looks up, thinks for a moment before nodding. The next move surprises Nightmare as Axe just scales the side of the cage and uses just arm strength to get to the cage opening. He hangs on one hand and arm and pushes his hand between the bars and unlocks the small locking mechanism from the inside before holding the bar with both hands. Next he swings back and forth and just kicks the door open and afterwards he swings himself through the hole and climbs out.

Axe stands next to Nightmare, on the outside of his own cage, looking at him and waiting.

Nightmare blinks “I… I didn’t realise you could do that.”

Axe blinks and looks back at the open cage before shrugging. He takes a few steps over and sits on the side of his cage, his little legs hanging off the side of it before looking curiously at the book and back at him. Just waiting.

Nightmare changes the hold on the book a bunch and waits until he gets some kind of sigh that Axe is comfortable reading. Nightmare ends up getting a thumbs up.

The two of them read like this for a while. Nightmare taking a long time before turning each page as Axe just gives a thumbs up each time he is done reading. Axe is a slow reader but Nightmare isn’t surprised. He doubts the bitty gets a lot of chances to read things as books are slightly too big to just have in his containment. Maybe Nightmare can get some kind of small reading tablet for the bitty. Make it easier for him to read in peace.

Nightmare makes a mental note of it.

It is nice-

“Oh no! Wait! No!” Lambert rushes over and grabs Axe. Axe hisses and immediately bites which Lambert ignores as they place Axe back into the cage and locks the mechanism.

Nightmare frowns “What was that for? He was comfortable.” He places the book to the side and looks Axe over.

Axe just sits on the ground of his cage looking very annoyed as he glares at the ram monster. He feels unhappy and annoyed but luckily he seems unharmed.

Nightmare glares at Lambert “What was that for?”

Lambert looks up and rubs their hands “It is just Bitey- sorry sorry Axe tends to scare some of the other bitties if he is out and about. Not to forget that he very quickly gets a headache if he strains his eye too much and that happens with reading. It is better if he just… doesn’t you know?”

Nightmare frowns and he feels disappointment and more frustration from Axe. Nightmare tilts his skull and makes sure to look unimpressed “I hardly see the issue. Axe is very capable and seemed to enjoy the light reading we had been doing. He was also still on his cage and not anywhere closer to the other bitties than he has been.” A glance confirms that Axe looks up hopefully at him.

Lambert frowns as they look over before rubbing their hands “It is just… okay. I think I need to share a few details about Axe.”

Axe freezes and glares at Lambert. Very very unhappy.

Lambert doesn’t seem to notice “It is… about his skull situation.”

Nightmare frowns “It seems rude to talk about someone else’s health. If Axe wishes to share what happened to him he can share it when he is ready. I am not in a hurry to learn.” He is not going to betray the fragile trust he, Killer and Cross had been building with Axe.

Lambert looks apologetic “Sorry but… well… my dad said you kind of have to know so… if you can just come with me please?” they rub their hands “I figured it could wait a bit longer but if you are going to remove him from his cage you need to know.”

Nightmare thinks about telling Lambert about the fact that Axe can get himself out but thinks better of it. If Lambert doesn’t know that it may be because Axe doesn’t let them know.

Nightmare looks over at Axe “I am sorry, I will be back real soon.” He puts down the bag on his stool “Do you mind keeping an eye out on my things while I go with them?”

Axe looks up and nods his acceptance.

Nightmare follows after Lambert and they go to the counter. Nightmare frowns at Lambert “Yes? What did you need to share?”

Lambert thinks for a moment before taking a deep breath “Axe isn’t from this facility originally. He, and we think his bonded, were from a terrible place. Some cops busted the place and freed about fifty bitties all in terrible health and conditions. The exact numbers didn’t match with the numbers we got but we always figured that some went to other safe houses and recovery centers.”

Nightmare frowns “I assume his skull got injured there?”

Lambert shakes their head “No… that came later… it is just… Axe was brought to us with about ten other bitties. To rehabilitate and heal from their abuse.”

Nightmare frowns “Then I don’t see the issue?” Axe was clearly healing and getting better. Especially if his past abuse was by humans or monsters and he was now willing to interact and be near Nightmare.

Lambert rubs their face “He was always… bitey and aggressive which we knew why. The thing is, he had always been locked away and alone. We thought he didn’t have a bonded.”

Nightmare blinks “Wait, his bonded wasn’t with him?” Renegade hadn’t been with Axe?

Lambert sighs “Even the police reports never spoke of having a bitty near Axe. We thought he wasn’t bonded and so, after some time to heal and relax we gently introduced him to other bitties as that is what normally has to be done. It had looked promising at first! Axe would mostly just… ignore other bitties. He just didn’t bother with interacting with other bitties. But…

He would hoard food.”

Nightmare frowns still not seeing the problem. Axe still did that.

Lambert sighs as they look down “The other bitties didn’t like it… we hadn’t… we thought it was fine. We just gave more food and all the bitties ate enough so we didn’t think it would be a problem that Axe had a small food pile he would defend. We figured he had been starved a lot and just wanted him to feel secure…”

Lambert looks into the direction of the larger cage with many bitties.

“There was one night, and there was a loud commotion. Bitties screaming and yelling.”

Nightmare frowns as he turns fully “But they hardly ever make noise?” Bitties would normally talk to normal sized monsters and people but Nightmare had noticed most of them preferred to be quiet. Past abuse would also explain why Axe was quiet, his past owners probably didn’t allow him to speak or communicate.

Lambert nods “It is how my dad and I knew something was horribly wrong. We rushed downstairs and found a horrible scene. Axe was on the ground of the bitty housing, his skull cracked and bleeding, a large needle stolen from somewhere in the store nearby. And… another bitty, one wearing a piece of cloth with a tie used to cloak the bitty. The bitty had been stabbing another bitty repeatedly in the chest, neck and head. The other bitty wasn’t moving anymore.”

Nightmare blinks but listens.

Lambert rubs their face “We immediately removed Axe to get him to a healer and tried to catch the wild bitty, but he was slippery and immediately managed to twist out of our grip and made a run for it. We never even got to confirm what type of bitty he is.”

Lambert sighs “After returning from the healer we moved Axe into a solo container to not risk hurting him anymore and we looked at the security cams and found something shocking. Axe had been asleep and the bitty that had been killed had been the one to initiate the attack. She had climbed out of the cage and stolen a needle from our tools. Then she had climbed back in and gone straight to Axe and stabbed him through the skull.”

Lambert crosses their arms “The thing is… in the background, the whole time, you could see a tiny figure near the window, watching the other bitty go about the store. The second she got a weapon he had been working on unlocking the top window near the ceiling to get inside.”

“As she had stood over Axe he had gotten inside and went straight for the cage. He was only seconds too late to stop the attack.”

Silence around them.

Nightmare frowns “I don’t see the issue… Axe was attacked and his bonded tried to save him. Seems like rather good partner behaviour to me.”

Lambert raises their voice “A bitty was killed!”

Nightmare crosses his arms “It was a form of self-defence. Especially if they went through hell together and have been bonded since their last imprisonment. Or, Axe was only imprisoned and his bonded was still wild but still went to spend time with him.” a thought “Where were they originally from?”

Lambert thinks for a moment “A country over.”

Nightmare nods “So either, they were a bonded pair from the same hellish place… or, Axe’s bonded is a wild bitty originally from a completely different country, who willingly followed Axe all the way here to still be with him.” he tilts his skull “That are the two most likely options I see at this moment and to me that just tells me how much they care about one another.”

Lambert groans “Axe being out of his cage makes all the other bitties nervous! He caused the death of one of the bitties!”

Nightmare shakes his skull “No. The bitty who died attacked first. She started a fight with a sleeping unaggressive opponent.” He crosses his arms “She would have killed Axe if she had the chance.”

Lambert crosses their arms “I know it is just-”

Nightmare continues “And just because she was already popular in the bitty settlement and Axe wasn’t it would have gone over well. She would have probably not even received much punishment would she? It would have been seen or written off as her trying to defend her colony and community from a food scarce. All while ignoring she killed a hurt and traumatised bitty that should have not been thrown off the deep end or been left in a container with bitties that seemed to dislike him.”

More silence around them.

Nightmare stares Lambert down “I will continue to help Axe and make sure he is healthy. His health, both physical and mental is my concern foremost.” And he nods “Thank you for the information but it hardly changes anything.” And he turns away and walks back to Axe.

He gets to the cage and his stool and takes a seat. He doesn’t see Axe right away and that is fine. “I apologise for taking as long as I did.” He looks into his bag and concentrates on his magic. Axe feels insecure and ashamed. The poor guy no doubt heard most if not the full conversation.

But more curiously.

A curiosity not his own, from very high.

Nightmare keeps his face aimed downwards towards his bag but lets his eyesight find reflective surfaces.

He is very lucky.

Because he can see a very tiny cloaked figure near the top of the window. Near the ceiling window, a similar one to the one that Lambert had spoken about.

Nearby and guarding his partner it seems.

Nightmare thinks for a moment before taking his chance “Lambert told me how you got your wound.”

More shame and frustrations from Axe and clear worry from Renegade.

Nightmare makes sure to keep his voice calm “I am sorry that happened to you. That after you got to a seemingly safe space that you were hurt, especially after showing so much trust by sleeping and resting near them.” he considers his next move before going through with it as he feels his first set of words positively affect both bitties “And, I am happy to hear you have such a good bonded who immediately moved to defend you when you needed help. Those type of people can be rare to come by. I am happy you both have each other.”

That seemed to have been the right words as he feels disbelieve from two sources before Axe rushes out of his hiding hole and stares hard at him. Still distrusting and nervous and in shock but so hopeful.

Nightmare smiles “I mean it. I understand that you both are worried, especially after all that happened. But if either of you need something you can ask us and we will do our best to get it to you.”

Axe keeps frowning at him before nodding and disappearing back into his shelter. It seems like that was it for Axe for today. Nightmare risks another glance towards the ceiling window but it seems that Renegade wasn’t there anymore.

Nightmare ends up opening the cage to leave a few more macarons before rising to his feet “I will be gone for a little while but I will be back in the afternoon again.”

A small chirp answers him that he was heard and Nightmare walks out of the store for now.

Today had already been very successful.

--

“…”

“… Do you think he was serious?”

“I don’t know… He seems truthful…”

“…”

“I don’t like you being outside…”

“I don’t like being near big ones…”

“I know… sorry…”

“It isn’t your fault…”

“…”

“… I… I would understand…”

“…?”

“If you… wanted to be… with them…”

“Bunny…”

“I know… they would be good for you…”

“Bunny.”

“and they like you…”

“Bunny…”

“I just don’t want to… ruin this…”

“You won’t.”

“…I always do…”

“You won’t… please meet them?”

“…”

“Only if you want…”

“I don’t know… I just… I don’t know…”

“It is okay…”

“…”

“I love you…”

“love you more.”

[sweetfuchsia]

situationships & scandals ft. itoshi rin , namey name

locker room gossip . ✦ . series masterlist

summary

rin is never a part of online drama and scandals. he won’t let some girl change that.. or will he?

notes:

mostly written parts aside from the text screenshot <3 btw, i’m kinda using tifa as like.. a fill-in for reader pics because i love her so much !! BTW BTW!!! this doesn’t rlly follow most of the bllk plot so like.. it’s just… blue lock facility and games and stuff but none of that is really roo important .. meow

click on the screenshot and the full img will pop up !

to say that rin was confused is an understatement. he woke up just like any other day, yawning softly to himself as he sat up.

but when he opened his phone, he was met with the sight of a notification— not like that’s uncommon, but what is uncommon is some girl sending an angry message.

he sighs, figuring that you’re probably just attention-seeking. rin doesn’t even bother looking at your profile— to him, you’re not important. he has other things to do.

but when he hears his name pop up in the changing rooms before training paired with something that sounded so familiar, he really couldn’t help but listen in.

“yeah, name’s like, really hot.”

“yeah.. but i heard she’s into rin or something. people say she’s copying his workouts or whatever.”

“come on, that’s the dumbest thing i’ve heard all day!”

“i dunno.. what if she’s trying to flirt with him?”

“too bad. i think i’ll send her a message..”

what the fuck are these idiots on, rin thinks to himself. he shakes his head, closing his locker with a ‘slam’! before turning to his teammates.

sometimes, he wonders why he stays in blue lock if he just has to deal with a bunch of braindead monkeys every day.

“i can hear you.” he states, narrowing his eyes at the group. they weren’t even trying to hide the fact they’re talking about him— and… name, was it?

“you haven’t said anything about it, though.” isagi notes, tilting his head just slightly. he can’t lie, he’s pretty curious about this. “have you even heard of what’s happening online? dude, you’re literally at the centre of it right now.”

centre.. of.. what?

“what do you mean?” rin blinks, eyes widening a fraction. “..i’m never a part of drama. they must have the wrong person he adds with a scoff, turning his head away from the group.

“no, no. apparently some girl’s copying your workout routine!” bachira says, popping up like some sort of mole from a carnival game. he’s just like that sometimes. “apparently she’s into youuuu . . !” he teases, leaning closer and raising an eyebrow.

“oh.” rin mumbles, plucking his phone out from his pocket. he pulls out the messages, narrowing his eyes at the name on the top of the screen— and sure enough, it’s you.

name.

“her?” rin mutters, flipping his phone to show bachira who just nods excitedly, a grin stretching across his features as he snatches the phone from rin.

“look! they’re flirrttinnngg,” bachira exclaims, waving the phone around like a madman. i mean, it’s not his phone so why should he care? “he totally like her!”

“lemme see, bro—“ isagi tries, a hand reaching out in attempt to take the phone from the fidgety bachira. “give it!”

“my phone’s not a damn toy.” rin huffs, grabbing his phone and tugging it away. “we weren’t flirting and i doubt that she’s into me.” he states firmly, turning his phone back off and stuffing it into his pocket.

otoya grins, “so i can message her—“

“no.”

extra : next chapters will probably be longer <3

[dreamerdrop]

Could you tell us more about the WIP called Zebras?

Zebras is an episode related little what if based on If Wishes Were Horses, wherein Julian falls asleep reading medical notes about Bajoran war orphans and finds himself dreaming about his own childhood, and thus wakes up to a small imaginary version of himself pre-augmentation.

I need to rewrite the bulk of it, but here’s a snippet from the ending without any further context.

Julian doesn't really want to be around people, but he does want to drink until he blacks out, so he finds himself sitting in a corner at Quarks, tossing back synthehol like his life depends on it, when Jadzia approaches him, looking uncomfortable.

“You know... What I meant was, does this mean you have a secret yearning to be a father,” Jadzia says softly, almost whispering so that nobody else will hear. “I was… trying to joke about you maybe having a pregnancy fetish or something, and… maybe that was why you liked the idea that I already had a worm in my belly…?” she sits across from him, her smile is very contrite.

Julian grimaces. Of course, that had been what she was trying to joke about... Leave it to Jadzia to phrase it in the most awkward way possible, and for Julian to interpret it as incorrectly as imaginable.

They really did make quite a pair.

“So… who was he?” she asks, and Julian had so very much been dreading when that question would finally come up. His throat feels dry.

“He was… a friend. I knew him a long time ago…” he finds himself staring into the middle distance, several memories playing through his mind.

“What happened?”

Julian breathes slowly, trying not to get lost in the flood of thoughts and emotions that he feels like he might as well be drowning in.

“He died. He was... He was sick. His parents, they… it was difficult for them. Looking after him, because he was… they… they wanted to help him, to fix him, to make him…” Julian chokes on the words, crying. His face heats with shame.

“He was stupid. He was stupid, and annoying, and nobody liked him, and his parents…” he doesn't mean the words at all. He’s not sure where they’re coming from, but he can’t seem to stop them. Jadzia is looking at him in almost horror.

“They took him away to fix him, but… he didn't come back. I think... I think his parents were happier without him,” he says quietly. Jadzia shakes her head, opening her mouth to protest.

“They were. They had another child. I heard… I heard them telling their new child how much better he was. How much smarter, and easier to handle he was. They… I… They didn’t miss him at all…”

Jadzia isn’t stupid. Julian knows she can tell there’s more to this than he’s willing to admit. Julian knows he’s giving away too much. He knows he’ll regret this one day. Right now, the image of watching Jules die all over again is fresh in his mind.

“Sometimes, I think… I might be the only one who misses him at all.”

Jadzia reaches a hand out and squeezes his shoulder. She lifts her own glass and clinks it against Julian’s.

“We can miss him together, at least for tonight,” she says.

The burn of synthehol doesn’t warm him as much as the genuine kindness in Jadzia’s eyes, nor does it sting as much as the still-present pity.

He supposes that one day, she’ll look at him normally again, but just for tonight… he’s grateful that someone else can feel sorry for Jules. He’s glad he won’t be the only one to miss him anymore.

END.

I’m not quite sure what to do with the rest of it in the lead up to that yet though, since I’ve been puzzling over the character voices for a while for this… I think I’ve got Julian being too much of a jerk and being sort of too… idk, softboy-ish? Rather than like… himself. And I think it makes zero sense for me not to have Sisko and Miles more involved as well, since y’know, they’re both parents and here is Julian with a tiny kid.

Anyway, it’s been a WIP since maybe November last year and I come back to it occasionally and hopefully one day I will finish it. Hopefully. Maybe. We’ll see!

[kikyoupdates]

Made to Destroy ⭑˚💎⭑ 𝑛𝑎𝑚𝑒𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑒𝑥𝑡𝑟𝑎

bnha x op!reader

op!reader, my hero academia x fem!reader, reverse harem, over powered reader, f!reader

You are the product of a series of twisted experiments, an anomaly that shouldn’t have ever existed in the first place. Thankfully, you are taken into the arms of a hero and given a new purpose in life. But as you soon discover, it isn’t easy to deny your true nature, especially when you were made to destroy.

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Aizawa feels bad about bringing you to the hospital again. It goes without saying that it’s not a fun place for a kid, but if the doctors are concerned, then really, what choice does he have?

“Am I sick?” you ask him. “I don’t feel sick, so why am I back here?”

He offers you a sympathetic smile. “It’s just in case. Sometimes, we need to do a lot of tests to make sure that your body’s healthy. It’s better to be safe than sorry.”

As always, you go along without much protest. Aizawa appreciates that you trust him so much, but it actually makes him feel even worse about jerking you along like this. You’re a good kid, and truly, you deserve better than the unfortunate circumstances you’ve found yourself in.

Dr. Iwase examines you, does a few more tests (Aizawa holds your hand again when they take another blood sample), but all in all, it’s clear that nobody has any idea what’s going on.

“She seems perfectly healthy and functional,” Dr. Iwase frowns. “Which is why... it just doesn’t make any sense. The numbers we keep getting don’t add up. Perhaps it has something to do with her Quirk? You mentioned before that she has regenerative abilities. Perhaps that might be affecting her blood cells and overall constitution. But even so, it’s still rather strange...”

If a doctor can’t figure out what’s happening, then Aizawa sure as hell won’t be able to either.

He spares a glance at you. You’re sitting on the exam table and happily swinging your legs out, seemingly without a care in the world. No part of you strikes him as being sick or unhealthy. Scientific data aside, as long as you don’t feel any discomfort, that’s what matters most, right?

“Can I take her home now?” Aizawa asks. “I’d hate to keep her here too long. Especially if you say she looks fine.”

“Yes, I suppose. Sorry for the inconvenience. A child’s wellbeing is at stake, so naturally, I couldn’t afford to be negligent.”

Aizawa nods. “Of course. I’m just glad she’s okay. As you’re probably aware, I don’t have much medical knowledge, but at the very least, I can keep an eye on her health and look out for any concerning signs.”

“That would be much appreciated,” Dr. Iwase smiles. “Thank you, Aizawa. So long as you monitor [Name]’s condition, I feel confident that she’ll be just fine.”

Well, that concludes yet another hospital trip. Aizawa doesn’t much care for the harsh smell of antiseptic and the constant beeping of medical machinery, but he supposes he’ll have to get used to it. If it means keeping you safe, he’ll take you to dozens, no—hundreds of hospitals to make sure you’re in good health.

“So, I’m not sick,” you hum, looking rather pleased with yourself as you hold onto Aizawa’s hand. “I told you, Aizawa. I told you I was feeling just fine.”

“I know,” he chuckles. “Like I said, this is just to be safe. Adults are very meticulous about these kinds of things. We like to test things a bunch of times just to be sure that we’ve gotten it right.”

You smile. “That’s okay. I don’t mind coming back here again if it helps everyone believe I’m not sick. And since I was a good girl and listened... that means I get a burger, right?”

Man. You really, really love burgers.

Not that Aizawa minds. Quite frankly, that smile of yours is so cute that he’s ready to risk everything for it.

“One burger coming right up,” he muses, affectionately ruffling your hair.

Your smile gets even bigger. “Since I was extra good today, can I maybe have two burgers instead?”

“...let’s not push it.”

He’s convinced that if you ever do get sick, it’ll be from a burger-induced food coma.

You’re a kid. Being a kid comes with its fair share of troubles, it seems. Troubles that are only amplified by the fact that you have virtually no lived experience.

While it’s true that kids are generally ignorant about most things, yours is a different case altogether. Certain things you instinctively pick up on, thanks to the knowledge Dr. Garaki imbued your brain with, but others, you can only learn by experiencing them firsthand, and what may seem incredibly obvious to most people often needs to be explained to you in great detail.

Aizawa still hasn’t been able to figure out what the deal with you is. The police have yet to find any leads, and there are absolutely no records of you anywhere they’ve looked. Almost as if you never existed in the first place.

Whatever the case, it’s clear that his guardianship can hardly be called ‘temporary’ anymore.

For the foreseeable future, you’re here to stay, and that means that he needs to make sure all your needs are properly seen to.

This, of course, includes education.

“School?” you blink, visibly confused. “What’s that?”

As always, your response catches him off guard. Based on a rough estimate, you look to be about five or six years old. You claim you don’t know your birthdate, which is plenty horrifying in its own right, but he chalks that up to the obvious gaps in your memory. Still. To have forgotten about something as fundamental as school? It’s messed up, and it makes him tremble just imagining the horrible man who must have tormented you all this time.

You’ve been through a lot, which is all the more reason why you need to start living normally, the way other kids do.

“School is where people go to learn all kinds of things,” Aizawa explains. “I’m sure you’ll really enjoy it. And there will be plenty of kids your age there, so you can make some friends too.”

Friends...

You like the idea of having friends. Hopefully, you can meet more nice people like Izuku. That would be great. Just the thought makes you ridiculously excited.

“I want to go,” you insist. “I want to make tons of friends!”

Present Mic laughs. “You’ll have to learn too, kiddo. That’s kind of the main focus of school. Well, you seem like a smart kid, and you’re good at following instructions, so you've got all the qualities of a model student.”

Your face flushes with pride. School hasn’t even begun yet, and you’re already being praised. It seems like a rather promising start.

And so, while you eagerly await your first day of school, Aizawa and Present Mic attend to all the bureaucratic details. They’re able to find a good public elementary school in the area, and thankfully, after explaining your unique circumstances, your enrolment is approved.

That’s how you find yourself equipped with a cute cat-themed backpack, lips parted in awe as you stand in front of the school gates.

Aizwa pats your head. “How are you feeling? It’s okay to be nervous, but just remember to take a deep breath, and everything will be fine—”

“I’m so excited I can barely stand still!” you exclaim. “I want to go in, I want to go in, I want to go in!”

Well, then. He had a whole speech prepared in case you were getting cold feet, but this certainly saves him the trouble.

“I’m glad you’re looking forward to it so much.” Aizawa crouches next to you and smiles. “Mic is busy with hero work, so he couldn’t be here to drop you off, but he wanted you to know that he’s rooting for you.”

“I know,” you beam. “Even when you guys are busy, I know you’re still thinking of me. Just like how I always think of you.”

Goodness. Aizawa is convinced you must be a tiny little angel that fell out of the sky. Perhaps that’s why most things are so foreign to you.

He chuckles weakly at the thought. No, of course not. Your past is far too grim for that to be the case. Still, it’s nice to dream.

“Have fun,” Aizawa encourages, patting your head one last time. “Make sure to listen to your teacher and you’ll be just fine. And play nice with the other kids. I’m sure they’d love to be friends with you.”

You hesitate before trickling past the gates, where the crowd of other kids is passing through. Aizawa wonders if you’re finally starting to feel nervous, but before he can pose the question, you jump into his arms and give him a big hug.

“Bye-bye, Aizawa,” you say. “I’ll miss you while I’m at school. And you’ll miss me too, right?”

He blinks in surprise, but it doesn’t take long for him to wrap his arms around you.

“I will. I’ll miss you a lot,” he mumbles. He’s not just saying it for show, either. As he holds your tiny body against his, he realizes that he’ll miss you like crazy these next few hours.

It’s strange how he hasn’t even known you for very long, but already, you’ve become so deeply ingrained in his life.

He finally waves goodbye to you, and you scurry off excitedly, following behind the rest of the students. Aizawa could have easily walked with you all the way to your classroom, but you insisted that you wanted to figure it out yourself. You’re a big girl, and you want to prove to him that you’re plenty capable on your own.

Thankfully, the school isn’t terribly big, and you’re able to find your way just by copying where most of the other kids are headed. Your eyes scan the signs above the doors, searching for the classroom that you were assigned to.

Ah. It’s that one!

You grin proudly. Look at that. You figured it out just fine, even without Aizawa’s help. Of course, it’s not like you have any qualms about relying on him, but it’s nice to do something on your own every once in a while.

You step inside the classroom and take a few moments to assess your surroundings. So, this is school, huh? There are desks and chairs all over the place, there’s a blackboard at the front, and the walls are covered with all sorts of educational posters; mainly catchy slogans or words of affirmation. There’s a map of the world too, and a big clock.

But best of all, the classroom is bustling with excitement. There are kids everywhere you look. So many of them! So many potential friends! You’re itching to go up to them and introduce yourself right off the bat, but before you can, someone beats you to it.

“[N-Name]?”

Huh? That sounds like...

You whip your head around, and sure enough, there he is. The nice curly-haired boy you met not long ago, and who you quickly hit it off with.

A grin spreads across your lips.

“Izuku!”

You bound over to him and take his hands in yours, despite the fact that it makes him yelp out of embarrassment. You’re too excited to take note of how violently red his face is. You just can’t believe how lucky you are, to have met him again on such short notice. And best of all, you’re classmates now, which means you’ll get to see each other all the time.

“Yay, Izuku’s here!” you beam. “I’m so happy to see you again! I didn’t realize you went to this school too. It’s my first day, and I was already excited, but now that I get to see you, I’m even more excited!”

The poor boy’s head is spinning. He’s so flustered that he can hardly keep up with what’s happening, and the fact that you’re still holding his hand in yours doesn’t help in the slightest.

You frown a bit, having finally picked up on his embarrassment. “Hm? Izuku, are you okay? Your face looks kind of—”

“No way is this happening right now.”

Ah. There’s yet another familiar voice.

Except this isn’t one you’re all too thrilled about.

Katsuki grits his teeth. “I can’t believe it. You seriously have the nerve to show your face here, after all the crap you said to me? You really must be an idiot. You made a big mistake coming to this school.”

He balls his hands into fists, an act which is clearly meant to intimidate you, but all the while, you just stare at him without uttering a word.

Then, you blink.

“Sorry, what was your name again?”

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[swirlyyygal]

Dirty Perv Shiu ♡

F!Reader! This is my first time uploading something so dirty (and uploading anything at all)!! AWAHHHHH!!! (///-﹏-///)

CW/tags: Minors plz DNI!! Sleazy kinda behavior, panty sniffing, degradation, sorta dumbification, cigarette smoke play, no specified age 4 reader (can be age gap or not!!), calf/thigh/shoehumping, spanking

DirtypervShiu who you kinda imagined would be a sleaze, just one who kept it under wraps. And you were right, he knew how to keep stuff quiet, even if he wanted to let it out. He was calculated, whether in your mind that’s good or bad, it definitely was helpful when you wanted to be inconspicuous.

DirtypervShiu who keeps your panties in his pockets wherever he goes, whether you know it or not. At the store? Panties in his pocket. His job? In his left so when he’s writing he can just reachhhh down and get a whiff. Even at home you’ll catch him when he’s supposed to be doing the laundry, sniffing away at your panties. Leaky cock in one hand while the other grips the soft fabric. Granted it embarrasses you to see him smell those, but you can’t deny it is a bit hot.

DirtypervShiu can’t really jerk off to anyone else BUT YOU. He used to be able to just jerk off to whatever but now it’s to only just you. Believe me he’s tried. So now what does he do? Obviouslyyy he films you guys! That shitty vintage camera quality just making it even better. Makes him feel old though when you say it looks vintage. Thats all he ever needs to get it off on long nights or when you’re away. It’s like he just gets to constantly relive the moment over and over again when he watches the film. He’ll always give you an outfit with the occasion too. A maid dress, nurse look, playboy bunny, baker, or on simpler occasions just something reveling and slutty. He likes to dress up his doll, make her all pretty for him. He’ll even do your hair if you really want him too.

DirtypervShiu who can’t be bothered to hang up the phone whenever a client, or Toji, calls him up. Asking him for whatever the hell they need. Doesn’t matter if you sucking him off, or grinding against him, even while he’s deep deep inside of you he won’t hang up. Hand covering your mouth so your lips are pursed as he puts on that customer service voice. All the while your DYINGGGG on his cock, trying your very very best to keep quiet for him. He can trust you with that, can’t he? If not he’ll just make you bite the silk pillows. Watching as a spit stain is left in the middle. Or his office chair, although, dealing with confused looks from the deep teeth marks on the leather can be a bit awkward.

Speaking of clients!! DirtypervShiu will keep you down straight in his lap during a meeting with those damn clients. Didn’t matter if it was a guy, or a girl! He would make SURE you were well rested in his lap. Napping, staring, taking notes, grinding on his thigh, or even taking it inside right so it reaches your womb. He really couldn’t care less if it embarrassed you, or the client. He knows the client would shut up and ignore it, and he knows you’d rather shut your mouth too. “Sign here, here, here.. Oh and, I get my girls pretty but you can atleast look at what I’m givin’ ya..” He would scoff as his clients leaning eyes would stroll over to you. And when the client is exiting the room he’ll smack and grab a handful of your ass. “Well, pleasure doin’ business with ya’” stupid customer service voice as his larger than average hand is making your cheeks spread.

DirtypervShiu who’s no short of mean when it comes to degrading you. Of course, he knows you both like it beforehand before he gets cruel with it. You’ll be happily giving him a blowjob, when he manages to rumble out. “Look at just how damn nasty my girl is?.. Looking like a whole idiot while taking it down her throat.. Maybe that’s why you can take it huh? Because your mind is so gone that you can’t even register your own gag reflex?..” Truthfully, he can go on for hoursssss when it comes to talking to you like that. It’s just like the words flow outta his mouth.

DirtypervShiu likes just a bit of public play. He hated the idea of fucking you infront of everyone at a party like, that’s just nasty to him. But when you and him are all alone in his office, he likes to pin you to the windows of the highrise. Shirt off so your boobs are pressed against the cold glass. You feel like you could fall if not careful enough. “Look at all those people down there doll, they don’t gotta clue what I’m doin’ to ya right now.. Maybe someone from the company across will see, just think. They look out the window and try to admire the city but all they see is me just drillin’ into ya..” You have to admit. His dirty talk does get you even wetter than you could ever be.

This bitch is always smoking cigarettes, so why wouldn’t he be into bringing them into your life and sex life! DirtypervShiu will take a loooongg drag from his cigarette, the smell filling his office as you are playfully sprawled across his lap. The side of your body resting on his front as he clicks his tongue. It was like a stupid dog command when he did that… But you listened! He would wait till you were directly looking at him and then he’d blow it all in your face. Giggling you playfully took it, and he laughed too. Or when he’d take a drag and kiss you deeply. Blowing all the smoke into your mouth, you can’t say you enjoyed the taste, but it turned you on to no end when he did it.

DirtypervShiu while in the middle of fucking you, will take out that shitty ass camera and a wad of cash. Smirking he’ll wave it around and tease. “Ya want it dolly?.. Ya? Then pose with it f’me, then you can have it allll..” He’ll laugh as you grab onto it and gleefully pose. Sticking out your tongue and sticking a dollar bill onto it. Might press the wad between both of your boobs, making sure it stuck out in the vision. Or once you finally got lower, you would place 3 to 5 dollar bills all in a fan structure and use it to cover your pussy that was getting destroyed by him. All this caught of video and picture. “You always give me such good material to work with, don’t ya?”

On moments when you feel just soooo desperate to get your rocks off, but DirtypervShiu is just so incredibly busy with his clients? What is the poor man to do? He can’t just leave his dolly alone, no no that would be bad, and he’s not a bad man :(. So what does he ask of you? To just hump him. For you to use his body like just another surface for you to grind on. If you’ve been good that day, you’ll get to ride on his thigh. The fabric of his nice, clean pants being crumpled and even a bit damp from your indecent and constant pace. His free hand would rest on the curve of your hip while the other worked tirelessly at his documents. “Aren’t you just such a lucky girl, even when I’m busy I let you get off.. Such a spoiled thing..” He’d chortle while kissing your cheek. Or if you were bad that day, he’d make you rest underneath his desk . Clothed pussy just grinding on that fine leather of his loafers. It felt so dirty when you did that, but so good. “Maybe if you hadn’t been all moody, I’d let ya up on my thigh.. But since you’re still my girl, I can’t just leave ya hanging can I? That would make me all neglectful and I would never do that to my angel...” His words laced with truth, and condescension if that makes sense.

To go off of you being bad, sure you can get a bit moody.. But it’s nothing a good ol’ lesson can’t teach!! And DirtypervShiu was great at those lemme tell you that much. He’d lift you up and place you over his knee. Your skirt bunched up so your bare ass was just faced with the cold. He’d raise his hand up, preparing for what was to come. “Count f’me, Kay? Maybe we’ll beat your record..” He’d cruelly joke before landing the hard slap on your ass that would make you jump. And the process would repeat. A harsh slap, followed by you counting it out, then followed by him kneading the skin. Maybe even add in a few pussy slaps just to mess with you. And the process goes on and on and onn until you just can’t take it anymore (╥_╥). You could feel the sting and burn while your vision was glossed over from tears. Bottom lip pouting. Shiu would sigh and lean down, kissing your forehead softly while his hand grazed your sore cheeks. “There there.. Don’t cry.. Let’s get ya sum ice packs, Kay?” He always made sure to treat you softly after, soften the blow. ♡

DirtypervShiu who will randomly slip Korean into his daily vocab. It’s not even on purpose, it’s just happens at random times and he can’t really help it. Tried to suppress it, but he doesn’t wanna. “Loo-ook at youuu 공주님!… (princess) All pretty for my eyes..” Sweet tone on his lips as he’d watch you in your new outfit. Or the occasional “씨발!.. (damnit)” When his cock is placed down your throat and you’re achingly gagging on it. You find it endearing honestly. And when he found that out, he knew it had to abuse it. And of COURSE it’s gonna be in the bedroom. You’ll be in the middle of you bouncing on it crazy style and he’ll slip through groans, “귀요미.. (cute)” He knows it drives you crazy. And you know that it’s on purpose this time. Half the time your actually spent trying to remember what it means rather than relishing in the compliment.

DirtypervShiu who is weirdly into eating you WITH the panties on. It’s not even a punishment he just really likes doing it. I mean, he already likes sniffing them, so why wouldn’t he like to eat them! And he goes CRAZYYY TOO. He knows that you can just barely feel the wetness of his tongue, and how the fabric rubs against your clit, GUHHH. He likes to taste the fabric too oddly enough. He likes knowing that just below it, is his own prize but he can’t just go in Y’know. So much so that he once tore a hole through the lace fabric. Eh. He’ll just buy you a new one. And a few more just in case..

A/N: AGWAHHHH IM GOING CRAZY I LOVE SHIU I LOVE HIMMMM!!! ( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡ Hope u liked and sorry this is real short, im kinda new to this!!

[eternallyordinary]

“He Belongs to You” - Part 4

Part 1<3

Part 2<3

Part 3<3

Part 5<3

Summary: A tense night takes an unexpected turn, blurring the lines between control, desire, and something far more dangerous.

Warnings: Possessiveness, power dynamics, strong language, mature content, smut, violence, sexual content, mentions of sexual assault/rape, foul language, yandere (if i forgot any pls let me know <3)

Homelander stands in the lobby, hands in his pockets, waiting for you. He looks every bit the Hollywood superstar, dressed in an impeccably tailored Armani suit. The staff and even Ashley stare at him, wide-eyed, surprised to see him actually dressed up.

“Quit staring,” he snaps, voice sharp. “I’m capable of looking presentable.”

Despite the irritation in his tone, he keeps glancing at his watch, his gaze flicking toward the elevator doors, anticipating your arrival. Ashley studies him carefully, her brows furrowing. Something is different. She can see it in the way he holds himself, the subtle tension in his shoulders, the rare sign of nervousness in the way he shifts his weight. She knows Homelander is possessive, but this? This is something else.

Then, the elevator doors slide open. The entire lobby stills.

Homelander’s breath catches in his throat, his gaze locked onto you as you step out. Even Ashley—who rarely reacts to anything—is stunned into silence, her mouth parting slightly as she takes in your appearance.

Every muscle in his body tenses, his instincts flaring to life. He sees the way people turn to look at you, the murmurs passing through the room. He doesn’t like it. He steps forward, jaw tight, fighting the urge to fly you the fuck out of here.

“Okay, so, your first interview on the carpet is fifteen minutes after arrival,” your publicist reminds you, flipping through a clipboard. “MTV is first—you’re really winning them over. Let’s keep it that way.”

You nod absentmindedly, but your focus is on him. He stands nearby, watching you intently, smug and satisfied that you’re so distracted by him. He can’t help but smirk. Your publicist keeps rattling off information, but you barely process it. Instead, you catch Homelander’s gaze and, subtly, mimic a blowjob gesture—fist pumping at your mouth as a way to say “I’m so fucking bored”.

He actually laughs. A real, genuine laugh. It’s low, rumbling, the kind of sound that sends a shiver down your spine. He shakes his head, amused.

He approaches with a smile. “You really have a way with words, sweetheart.”

The publicist pauses, eyes flicking between you and him. She clearly wasn’t expecting this.

“Homelander, can we chat?” Lindsay, your publicist, cuts in.

His expression immediately shifts, guarded.

“What is it?” His voice is gruff, irritated that she’s interrupting.

“Alone.”

Homelander’s eyes flick to you. He doesn’t want to leave your side. Not now. But he knows Lindsay won’t let this go.

“Fine.” He grits his teeth. “Make it quick.”

Lindsay folds her arms, walking a few steps away from you. Your expression remains firm.

“Word travels fast. It’s her first day in the Tower and she’s glued to your side. What’s your endgame?”

Homelander’s brow twitches.

“She was brought onto The Seven for Gen Z appeal,” Lindsay continues, unfazed by his glare. “And I mean this with respect—because I know you could laser my fucking head off—but you two have totally different audiences. So tell me… what’s your goal with her? If it’s something unkind—if you’re just using her—I need to know. Not because I’m her publicist. Because I’m a mother. And she—”

She gestures toward you from across the room, her expression softening. “She doesn’t have one. She has no one looking out for her. So, I figure I should. Does that make sense?”

Homelander stares. For a moment, he doesn’t say a word.

He wants to be pissed that she’s questioning him. Who the fuck does she think she is? But instead, something in him pauses. Because he gets it. He knows what it’s like to have no one looking out for you.

His jaw clenches. “You think I’m going to hurt her?”

Lindsay exhales. “I’m saying this because I care. And I know damn well you could kill me right now, so bear with me and just be a fucking human for a moment.”

Her voice lowers. “Your track record isn’t great, Homelander. She’s young. She’s vulnerable. Remember when you were that age? Fresh on The Seven? Of course, you were always the most powerful. But do you remember when you were trusting? Timid? Do you really think you have her best interest at heart?”

His nostrils flare.

He doesn’t like this.

He doesn’t like being confronted with memories he’s buried.

He doesn’t like the implication that he isn’t good for you.

“I…” He swallows hard. He doesn’t do vulnerability. But the words slip out before he can stop them.

“I do care about her.”

Lindsay holds his gaze.

Then, she nods. “Just don’t prove otherwise.”

She pivots on her heel and walks away, offering you a bright, easy smile like she didn’t just challenge the most dangerous man on the planet.

Homelander watches her leave, his mind racing.

He hates that she got under his skin. He hates that she forced him to admit something even to himself. But most of all—

He hates that she’s right.

You approach him, sensing the tension. “Do I look like a total poser in this?” You smooth your hands down the sleek fabric, feeling slightly out of place in something so fancy.

Homelander’s expression softens instantly.

His lingering frustration vanishes.

His gaze roams over you—slowly, deliberately. His breath hitches slightly, his fingers flexing at his sides as if he’s physically restraining himself from touching you.

“You look…” His voice is low, rough. “Absolutely goddamn perfect.���

You look down, smiling shyly. “Don’t leave me tonight,” you say, voice soft. “I feel awkward as fuck.”

Homelander steps closer, towering over you, crowding your space. He lifts your chin with two fingers, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

The way he says it—so final, so sure—sends warmth through you.

You hesitate for a moment, then reach for his hand.

His entire body stills.

The weight of your fingers in his hits him like a punch to the chest.

You know what this means. The media will talk. Vought will talk. But you don’t care.

You feel safe with him. And for some reason—Homelander feels safe with you, too. His grip tightens—possessive, unchallenged.

The weight of a thousand stares settles on him, the murmur of whispers creeping around them like static. The media. The Vought execs. The cameras. He doesn’t give a single fuck.

All that matters is your hand in his.The warmth of it. The trust it implies. It feels right. Like this is exactly where he was always meant to be.

As you step onto the red carpet, the energy in the air shifts. All eyes are on you.

The Vought execs? Pissed.

This wasn’t a part of the branding. This wasn’t a part of the plan.

Too bad.

A reporter wastes no time pushing forward, mic in hand, eyes wide with interest.

“Well—this is unexpected,” she says, forcing a polite smile. “Can we get a comment on this sudden… pairing?”

Homelander parts his lips to respond— but you cut him off.

“Yes, thank you so much!” you say smoothly, smiling for the cameras. “I’m so happy to be here and to be a part of The Seven. I’m honored Homelander put his trust in me!”

You don’t answer the question.

His jaw tightens.

You deflected. Smart. But that’s not what he wanted.

He grits his teeth, fingers flexing against yours, gripping just a little tighter. The reporters eat it up, the execs continue seething, and Homelander?

He just stands there, holding back the urge to grab your face and make things very, very clear.

The reporter hesitates, waiting for more. But you don’t give her more.

Instead, you smile, a polite, closed-lip expression, and turn away. “Thank you.”

“Alright, you need to take some solo shots in front of this,” your publicist cuts in. “Excuse us, Homelander.”

Homelander follows anyway.

Like a shadow. Like a protector. Like someone who isn’t ready to let you go.

You’d think he was the rookie, following your lead.

You step in front of the cameras, striking pose after pose, effortlessly stunning. He watches, arms crossed, expression unreadable—but inside?

He’s fucking losing it.

Pride. Jealousy. Desire. It all collides at once.

The flashes go off like fireworks, illuminating every inch of you, and he hates it.

Hates how much he wants to rip the photographers apart. Hates that the world gets to see you like this.

Hates that you aren’t his.

“Take a photo with Homelander! Take one with Homelander!”

The reporter’s voice snaps him out of it.

His gaze sharpens.

“Take a photo with Homelander!” she repeats.

Fine.

He steps forward, his arm immediately finding your waist.

His grip is firm. Possessive. Not aggressive, but unmistakably territorial.

You barely react, maintaining your poised expression for the cameras.

But he feels it.

The tension. The silent awareness between you.

The cameras go off. Click. Click. Click.

“Do you ever get used to this?” you ask, smiling for the cameras.

Homelander glances down at you, the hint of a smirk curling at the edge of his mouth.

“No,” he murmurs, voice low and rough. Honest. “You never fully get used to it.”

His grip tightens around your waist as he pulls you just a little closer, like he’s daring someone to try and pry you away.

He can already hear the whispers. The hushed murmurs, the scandalized gasps from the Vought execs. Good. Let them talk.

Inside the theater, the seat assignments are already set. Your name is next to The Deep’s. Homelander takes one look at the card, then at Ashley.

“Oh, fuck no. Switch it.” His voice is quiet, controlled. That’s how she knows he’s not asking.

Ashley barely swallows down her exasperation, quickly adjusting the seating chart before she can even process why he’s acting like this.

“Of course, Homelander.”

The Deep sighs, slumping back into his chair. “Didn’t wanna sit next to you anyway, psycho bitch.” He mutters under his breath.

Before he can blink, your knee slams into his crotch.

His entire body seizes up as he wheezes like a deflated balloon.

Homelander? He just smirks. Watches with amusement as The Deep folds in on himself like a house of cards. Normally, he’d step in—but you? You handled it yourself.

“You’re making quite an impression,” he murmurs, eyes gleaming with something almost affectionate. Pride, even.

But that pride shifts quickly to something else entirely.

The lights dim. The director makes his introductions, saying all the same predictable garbage.

Then—the real mistake.

“Homelander, would you like to say a few words?”

Homelander rises.

Slowly. Powerfully.

The room falls silent before he even reaches the podium. The weight of his presence alone is enough to demand the world’s attention.

“Thank you, thank you.” His voice carries effortlessly through the theater, low and controlled—calculated. “Tonight, we celebrate something much bigger than a movie. Bigger than entertainment. Bigger than Vought.”

The audience leans in.

Here it comes.

His eyes scan the room—but they keep landing on you.

“You see, real power isn’t just about strength.” He tilts his head, voice dropping to something almost conspiratorial. “It’s about legacy. It’s about stepping forward and shaping the world into something better, something stronger.”

The cameras pan to you.

You sit rigidly still, your smile frozen in place as you begin to understand exactly where this is going.

“We all remember what happened last year.” His tone darkens, the weight of his past lingering in the air. “We all saw the cracks, the division, the betrayal.”

A flicker of unease passes through the crowd. The execs shift in their seats. No one dares to interrupt.

“But Vought was built on something greater, wasn’t it? Hope. Leadership. The right people for the job.”

And then, his gaze locks onto you.

Unwavering. Unrelenting.

“And that’s why we’re here tonight.”

Your stomach twists.

“This woman right here,” he steps down from the podium, each step slow, deliberate. “Is the future.”

“She’s what we need.” His voice grows stronger, more emphatic. “A fighter. A leader. Someone who will take us into the next era. And I, for one—” his hand extends toward you, palm up, demanding you take it— “will be standing right beside her.”

You have two choices.

Leave him hanging in front of the cameras.

Or take his hand.

The air thickens.

And before you can even think—your fingers are already lacing into his.

His grip tightens instantly.

Possessive. Unyielding.

“This woman—” he lowers his voice, slow, intentional, drawing out every syllable, ”—is mine.”

The weight of the words crushes the air from your lungs.

The whispers start immediately.

The Vought execs? Livid.

The team? Livid.

A-Train leans over to Black Noir, whispering, “What the fuck is he doing?”

Black Noir shrugs. “Bro, I don’t know. I can’t even see in this mask.”

“Stop talking,” A-Train hisses. “You don’t talk. Remember?”

Homelander ignores them all.

All he cares about is your face.

And your expression? Not what he was expecting.

He expected flushed cheeks. Excitement. Something akin to gratitude.

Instead—he sees the tears picking up in your eyes.

Something in his chest pulls.

He hesitates, his grip loosening just slightly. “What’s wrong?” he asks, voice quiet, just for you.

You keep smiling, because of course you do. Because everyone is watching.

“Everyone is watching,” you murmur through clenched teeth. “Can you just—finish whatever the fuck this is?”

Homelander’s smile drops.

Annoyance flickers across his face, but beneath it? Something else. Something closer to uncertainty.

This was supposed to be a moment. A declaration. But instead…

You look trapped.

He forces out a tight-lipped smile, stepping back toward the microphone.

“Right.” His tone is less certain now, like he’s recalibrating.

He speeds through the rest of his speech, still booming with confidence, still commanding the room, but there’s a sharp edge now.

Like he’s pissed off.

Like he expected more from you.

The second the movie ends, you stand up and walk. Not looking at him. Not hesitating. You’re not going to the after-party. You need to breathe.

Homelander watches you go. For a split second, he almost follows. But then, something inside him shifts.

He stands near the exit, his jaw clenched, hands buried in his pockets as he watches you disappear.

He lets you go—for now. But that doesn’t mean he likes it.

The rest of the night is nothing but fake people and fake bullshit. Forced smiles. Pointless conversations. Vultures.

“Where’s your little protégé, Homelander?”

“Did she run off already?”

“Should we expect a big announcement soon? She’s quite the media moment for you.”

He forces a laugh, the perfect picture of charm and amusement. But beneath the surface?

He’s imagining peeling their fucking skin off.

The way their voices would break in terror. The way their bodies would snap like twigs in his hands. The way their smug, condescending grins would disappear in a spray of red.

“Oh, you know how it is,” he chuckles smoothly, his eyes dark. “Young girls. So emotional. So fragile.”

They laugh along with him, oblivious to how close they are to death.

He hates them.

But mostly? He hates that you’re not here.

You sit on your couch, curled up in your pajamas, flipping through channels without actually watching anything. You should feel relieved that he didn’t chase after you. That he respected your space. But you don’t. You feel unsettled. Like something is missing.

And as soon as you have that thought—

Tap.

Your breath catches.

Another tap, tap, tap against the glass door of your balcony.

You turn your head slowly, and there he is.

Standing outside your window.

Homelander, with his arms folded behind his back, staring right at you.

Your stomach tightens. He’s so still. Not knocking. Not speaking. Just watching you.

The moment stretches until, finally, you push yourself up and slide the door open.

“Did you really have to fly up here?” you mutter, turning on your heel. “We live in the same building.”

Homelander steps inside. His boots land heavily against the floor, his presence instantly filling the room.

“Would you have let me in if I knocked?” he counters, voice tinged with something unreadable.

You roll your eyes. “I’m surprised you didn’t just force your way in. You have no problem not asking permission.”

Homelander tilts his head. Just slightly. The shift in his expression is immediate.

Something flickers in his eyes.

He takes a step forward.

And then another.

He closes in, until he’s standing right in front of you.

Any other person would be terrified. But you? You just cross your arms and stare up at him.

“What was today?” you demand, your voice sharp. “Did you treat me like you were interested just to give that speech and rack up points for your ratings? What a fucking coincidence—Homelander claims the young new member of The Seven. That’ll look great for the shareholders, huh?”

Homelander’s nostrils flare. “Is that what you think?” he scoffs, stepping even closer. “That this is all for ratings?”

His voice is cool, but you can feel the frustration coiling beneath it. “You think I’m just using you like some PR stunt?”

“I don’t know. You tell me.”

Homelander’s jaw tightens. His muscles coil like he’s ready to snap. But then—he exhales sharply, shaking his head.

“You wanted to prove yourself, huh?” His voice is lower now, rougher. “You think I don’t take you seriously?”

He moves even closer, towering over you.

“I’m the reason you’re here.” His voice is like a growl, his fingers twitching at his sides. “I chose you because I know how serious you are.”

You laugh. But it’s not a nice laugh.

It’s sharp. Cold. Mean.

“Yeah. A serious fuck is what you thought.”

And then—

You push him.

It’s not hard. It’s not violent.

But it’s deliberate.

And for a moment?

Homelander looks genuinely stunned.

Because no one does that.

No one dares.

You see the flicker of something dangerous in his face. Something unhinged.

But just as quickly—

His expression changes.

Dark amusement replaces his shock.

His eyes flash. He leans down, voice dropping to a low murmur.

“Watch yourself, sweetheart. You push me? You’ll regret it.”

You roll your eyes.

“That’s it?”

You turn your back to him, walking over to the couch, completely unfazed.

Homelander watches you go.

And he’s never been more sure that you were made for him. You’re just like him, and you don’t even realize it.

He sits beside you, his posture still coiled, tense.

“You have a lot of nerve,” he mutters, voice tinged with irritation. “No one lays a hand on me.”

You don’t even look at him.

“And yet, you’re still here.” Your voice is calm. “And you haven’t killed me yet.”

Homelander stares. Something in his expression shifts.

“You really think I’d kill you?” His voice is softer now. “That I’d ever hurt you?”

And that?

That throws you off.

Because he actually sounds—offended.

Like the very idea of hurting you is something that he’s never even considered.

You sigh. Exasperated. “You don’t even see what you did wrong, do you?”

His patience snaps. “Wrong?” He scoffs. “What did I do wrong?”

You lift your head, eyes locking onto his. “You took away my choice.”

Homelander stiffens.

You shake your head, a bitter smile on your lips.

“I like you, Homelander. I do.” Your voice is quieter now. “I had fun with you today.”

For a second—just a second—he softens.

But then—

“But why couldn’t you have given me some time?” You shake your head. “Now I’ll never be taken seriously. I’ll always just be your arm candy. A mindless woman. Isn’t that what you called them?”

Homelander’s lips press into a thin line.

He doesn’t answer.

Because for once, he doesn’t know what to say.

You see it in his face—the conflict, the moment of hesitation. He doesn’t regret claiming you. But for the first time, he wonders if he should have waited. If it would have been different.

Your voice is barely above a whisper now. “Now they might never see that.”

Your eyes glisten. Homelander notices immediately. And for the first time in a long, long time—he feels something strange.

Guilt.

He reaches for you—but you’re already moving, slipping away before he can touch you.

Heading for the kitchen. Putting space between you.

Homelander watches you go, jaw tightening. The way you dismiss him so easily—it grates on him. You won’t even give him the satisfaction of an argument, of a reaction. But he’s not letting you walk away from this.

He rises to his feet, his movements eerily smooth, controlled. He follows you, where you pause, hands gripping the edge of the counter.

He steps in behind you, so close you can feel the heat radiating off him. His presence is suffocating, a force pressing down on you.

“You think you can just ignore this?” His voice is low, edged with tension. “That I’ll let it go?”

You turn, lifting yourself onto the counter so you can meet his gaze. A challenge. A question.

“I don’t even know what you want from me,” you say, exhaling sharply.

Homelander’s eyes darken, the intensity of his stare almost unbearable. He leans in, placing his hands on the counter on either side of you, effectively trapping you in. His breath brushes against your skin, his lips hovering just above your jaw.

“What I want is one thing,” he murmurs, voice thick with something dangerous. His nose grazes your neck, his fingers tightening against the counter. “What I need? That’s you.”

Your breath hitches.

He presses closer, his body heat consuming you, his control fraying at the edges. You let out a soft, involuntary sound, and the shift in his demeanor is immediate—his grip tightens, his muscles flex, his breath stutters for just a moment. Then, he loses the last thread of restraint.

Homelander buries his face in your neck, dragging his lips over your skin, his teeth grazing the sensitive curve. His hand snaps forward without thinking, gripping the countertops quartz edge—too hard. The stone cracks under his fingers, breaking apart like it was never meant to hold his strength.

His lips move against your ear, voice thick, raw. “There she is,” he murmurs. “Letting go.”

His mouth trails along your jaw, reverent and possessive all at once. “You knew the second you walked into that tower,” he whispers, his grip tightening. “You knew you were mine.” 

“I’m… I’m nervous…” you whisper, barely audible.

Homelander hears it anyway. Of course, he does. His eyes flicker, scanning your face, reading every microexpression, every unspoken thought. He can feel the way your breath hitches, how your pulse flutters beneath your skin.

But he’s not deterred. If anything, it only feeds something deeper inside him. You’re hesitant. Cautious. Not like the others—never like the others. And that’s what makes this different. What makes you different.

For once, he doesn’t mind restraint. Doesn’t mind the slow burn of patience, the thrill of coaxing you forward instead of taking what he wants. He’s always been good at everything—faster, stronger, unstoppable. Maybe that’s why nothing has ever truly satisfied him. But this? You? You make him want to work for it.

He presses closer, his body firm against yours, the cool countertop at your back, the heat of him in front of you. His hands skim the edge of the counter, caging you in without force.

“There’s no need to be nervous, baby,” he murmurs, his voice a mixture of control and indulgence. The promise of patience, but only for you. “I’ve got you.”

He places a hand on your inner thigh, inching closer to the outside of your panties. Rubbing slow circles, he teases your pussy. “Already wet for me,” he says with pride. You moan, arching your back as you grab onto his strong shoulders.

“You like that baby?” You nod your head and grab onto his neck, maintaining eye contact. He knows you don’t like it. You love it. You tried to avoid his advances all day, tried to pretend you weren’t interested. Tried to pretend you didn’t care. But here you are, melting into him. Giving him all of the power. Just like he knew you would.

Without saying a word, your body language gives him permission to pull your panties to the side. “Is this okay?” he finds himself asking. You nod, running your fingers through his blonde hair. He begins to rub your clit with his thumb, placing his mouth over yours just to taste the air you breathe out.

“Fu-fuck Homelander-I-I-”

“Yes baby? Say it.” 

“I love the way you-“ 

“You love the way I what, baby?” 

“The way you tou-touch me,” you moan. 

“Only I can touch you,” Homelander whispers, “If I find out anyone else has touched you, I’ll fucking kill them. You understand, right?”

“Ye-yes sir,” you answer with bated breath.

“Do you want daddy to put his fingers inside you?” Homelander asks.

“Yes-but-pl-please be gentle,” I say as my eyes roll back in my head.

This is heaven for him. Ecstasy. Watching you let go. Watching you let him take control of your body. He moves his fingers to your mouth, gently placing two inside. This takes you by surprise. You begin to suck on them, maintaining eye contact with him. You can tell he likes when you look at him. He begins to explore your mouth, sliding his fingers around your cheeks. It takes all of his strength to not slide his fingers down your throat and watch you gag and choke on your own juices. He removes his fingers before he has that thought again.

“He places his hand back on your pussy, rubbing your clit with his thumb again. “Now, what does my good girl need to say to daddy before he finger fucks her?” Homelander asks.

“Pl-please?” I whimper.

“Good girl,” he says with praise, slowly putting one finger inside your tight hole. You let out a moan. Or was it a cry? He isn’t sure, but the thought of you crying for him makes his cock throb with delight. His finger pumps in and out of your pussy. He makes sure to start slow, feeling your walls clench around him. 

“Baby, you are so tight. Is this hurting you?” He asks, with genuine concern.

“N-no,” you whisper, “you feel so good.”

He loves seeing you like this—completely unguarded, free. No tension, no hesitation, just you, surrendering to the moment. This is how he wants you always—at ease, trusting, his.

You begin to pick up the pace. Grinding harder against his hand, fucking yourself against his fingers. Your head knocks against the cabinet, splitting it clean in half from the sheer force—but neither of you react. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is you, and the way he’s intent on giving, not taking. On worshiping every inch of you like you deserve.

“You can put in another finger,” you say, almost pleading.

He lets out a low laugh. “Baby,” he says, “one finger will barely fit. Let’s take it one step at a time,” he whispers, kissing your forehead.

He begins to curl his finger inside of you, pumping it harder against your walls. He rubs your clit as he finger fucks you, never breaking eye contact. You start to close your eyes - he knows your close.

“No, don’t close your eyes. Look at me,” he demands.

You open your eyes. The feeling is overwhelming - you feel like you’re about to explode.

“That’s it, good girl. You’re such a good girl for daddy.”

“Daddy?” you whimper.

“Yes, baby?”

“I think I’m going to cu-“

“You’re going to what?”

“I-I-I-“

“Say it now, or else I stop,” he demands, placing his freehand over your throat.

“I’m going to cum!”

“There you go. Cum for me sweetheart. You earned it. You’re so good for daddy, letting him stretch you out like this. Come on baby, let go,” he encourages.

You release, moaning and screaming his name. The whole tower can surely hear this. Homelander doesn’t give a fuck. Actually, he welcomes it. Let them hear the noises you make for him and only him. If they weren’t aware you were his, now they fucking know.

The wetness of your pussy, the sounds. The way your clit and your insides throb instantaneously is better than anything he’s ever felt in his whole entire fucked up life. He lets your clit continue to thump against his fingers, kissing you until you finish your orgasm. You recover, feeling a bit exposed. A bit nervous, a bit embarrassed. But also really fucking good.

“Did you like that? Couldn’t really tell,” he teases, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he presses kisses along your neck. His arms stay locked around you, holding you close—like letting go isn’t an option, like you might disappear if he loosens his grip even a little.

“That was… amazing.” You whisper.

Normally, Homelander never gives without expecting something in return. If you were any other woman, you’d be on your knees getting skull fucked. He wouldn’t care if you came, hell, he wouldn’t even care if you were aroused. But this… this was different. You were different. For once, his own satisfaction didn’t matter—because in a way, it already had been. Seeing you like this, knowing he could unravel you, knowing he could give instead of just take—it was enough. After the way he hurt you, whether he fully understood it or not, he just wanted to make you feel good. And that realization? That almost scared him.

And you were waiting for it—the inevitable moment when he would ask for more. When the generosity would come with a price. Because men didn’t just give. Not without expecting something in return.

You knew all too well. Your mind rewinds like a VCR tape—taking you back to when you were 15 years old, passed out on a bed after drinking too much. The boys at the party put their dicks and their fingers and their tongues inside of you. They didn’t care that you woke up with bruises. They didn’t care that you couldn’t sit down without feeling pain on your private parts. Men take. Boys take. They all take. Until women have nothing else to give.

You snapped yourself out of your trance and waited for him to say “my turn”. But he didn’t ask. He just held you, kissed you, like it was enough. Like you were enough.

And in that moment, you knew—you couldn’t lose him. No matter how fucked up he was, how self-absorbed or overwhelming. You had only known him for a day, but it didn’t matter. There was no before, no after. Just him.

Breaking the silence, you wrap your arms around his neck. “Can you just stay with me tonight? Lay with me?”

Homelander’s expression shifts. The possessive fire in his eyes dims just enough to reveal something else—something softer, more uncertain. He watches you, sees the vulnerability in your face, the unspoken plea for comfort. And it stirs something inside him. A need he isn’t used to.

His hand comes up, cupping your cheek with a gentleness that surprises even him. “Of course,” he murmurs, his voice quieter, less commanding. “I’ll stay. I’ll hold you all night.”

You share a slow, lingering kiss. Then, you pull back just enough to smirk. “So… do you sleep in that ridiculous suit too?”

Homelander chuckles, shaking his head. The tension between you eases, just a little. “No, sweetheart,” he says, amusement threading through his voice. “If I did, I’d probably overheat and drop dead in my sleep.” His lips twitch into a smirk. “I do have pajamas, though. You better not laugh.”

You kiss him again, pulling him toward the couch. Settling in, you turn on Netflix, scrolling until you find some ridiculous reality show you know he’d never watch on his own. But tonight, he doesn’t complain.

It’s easy. Normal.

You fall asleep like this, your head in his lap, his fingers lazily threading through your hair.

But he doesn’t sleep. He doesn’t want to.

He watches over you instead, his mind never fully quiet. He knows the illusion won’t last, that the world outside is cruel and dangerous. That there are people who will try to hurt you just to get to him. Maybe he should have hidden you away, kept you to himself. But it’s too late for that.

One thing is certain—whoever tries to take you from him will pay the price.

He watches the soft rise and fall of your breath, the way you look so unguarded, so safe in his arms. He’s always questioned his purpose. Always wondered why he was made.

It wasn’t for America. It wasn’t to be their hero.

No.

The answer became clear the moment you walked into the tower: He was made to love and protect you.