#FUCK I FORGOT HES IN THIS I HAVE TO WATCH IT

[theemporium]

i know lukey went back to mich for the break but could you do a smutty blurb on him and his girlfriend having the place to themselves and she’s still trying to stay quiet as he goes down on her but he’s just telling her she can be as loud as she wants?

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

.

It was pure instinct. 

You were sprawled out on his bed, gripping the sheets between your fingers and fighting the urge to arch yourself further into his touch. He was nestled between your legs, arms locked around your thighs and hips grinding down into the mattress as he ate you out. It was truly a sight to see, with his cheeks flushed and curls falling in front of his eyes and the noises he made against your cunt.

It was really fucking hot, you couldn’t not react to it. 

It was a pure driven instinct from the many times you had found yourself in this position before to smack a hand over your mouth, to muffle the noises that were threatening to escape. You twisted your head, prepared to nuzzle your face against your pillow like you usually did before Luke made you came. 

However, instead you found yourself blinking your eyes open in confusion as Luke stopped everything he was doing and lightly pinched your thigh to get your attention. 

“Luke,” and you weren’t even embarrassed to admit it was basically a whimper. 

But Luke didn’t seem to acknowledge it as he frowned at you. “Why did you do that?” 

It felt like a herculean task to fight through the fog in your brain to process his question. “What?” 

“Why did you do that?” Luke repeated, still between your legs with his lips and chin glistening under the soft light of his bedroom.

Your confusion grew. “What are you—” 

“I am making you feel good, right?” Luke asked with an expression on his face you had never seen before. 

“Yes,” you answered instantly before sitting up a little until you were on your elbows. “And I was kinda hoping you would make me come too but—” 

“Then why aren’t you letting me hear how good I’m making you feel?” Luke retorted, watching the way your lips parted a little at his blunt words. “No need to hide, baby. There’s no one but me and you.” 

“I—” You cleared your throat a little. “I forgot.” 

Luke’s smile turned wolfish as he squeezed your thighs until they were pressed against the sides of his head. “S’okay, baby, you can make it up to me. Tell me how good I’m doing.” 

You huffed out a laugh. “You athletes and your insatiable praise kinks.”

Luke didn’t respond, not with words at least. Instead, there was a glint in his eyes (something quite like determination) as he leaned his head back down and kept his eyes locked on you as he wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking noisily and obscenely just to watch the way your body arched off the bed.

“Oh, fuck,” you cried out, a choked out whimper escaping between the words as he tugged you closer to him. “Shit, fine! Deserved praise kink! Fuck, Luke, just like that.” 

You swore you could feel the fucker smiling against your cunt, but considering he was making you come minutes later, you decided against calling him out on it and instead utilised the empty apartment.

.

[sturnioz]

hiii! i love your fratboy!chris and shy!reader prompts and i have an idea for one!!!

okay so i was thinking, chris comes over to reader’s house to spend the night but while reader was in the shower, he was being a little nosey and looking at the different decorations and stuff on her side table and he opens the drawer to find a vape or something similar but its not buns vape its one of her friends and they just probably forgot to grab it or something but chris is so angry because he thinks its hers. and you can think of the rest!!!

changed this req up just a bit to fit the characters !! i hope you dont mind <3

you knew chris was coming over, so he doesn't make his presence known as he walks through the front door, barely sparing a glance at bee—who's sprawled lazily across the couch, scrolling on her phone—as he makes a straight beeline toward your room.

he hears the water running in the shower in the bathroom, but as always, he doesn't hesitate to make himself at home. he pushes the door to your room open and he lays across your bed, settling back against the headboard.

his nose wrinkles almost immediately when one of your jellycats brushes against his foot, and with a sharp kick, he sends the stuffed animal tumbling to the floor, hearing the soft thud as it hits the ground.

chris exhales sharply, adjusting the cap on his head and pulling the brim lower over his eyes before he lifts his hips, reaching into the back pocket of his jeans to pull out his phone, only to scoff with the screen refuses to light up.

he tongues the inside of his cheek in irritation as he leans over the edge of your bed, his eyes scanning the floor for your charger. when he fails to find what he needs, he sits back up, his gaze shifting to your beside table, pulling open the drawer and rummaging through it.

his fingers graze over something, and he pauses.

pulling it out, he stares at the object resting in the palm of his hand. a vape. his eyebrow arches as he turns it over between his fingers, inspecting it like it's some artifact he's never seen before—even though he owns a few himself.

utter confusion flashes across his face for a brief moment, but it's quickly replaced by his usual blunt scepticism. you don't smoke. he knows that, or at least he thought he did.

why the fuck would you have this tucked away? seemingly hidden in the back of your drawer? chris leans back against the headboard, the vape still in hand, his expression unreadable as his eyebrows pinch together.

when he hears the bathroom door creak open, his sharp eyes flit toward you, watching as you step into the room wrapped in a fluffy towel, water droplets trailing down your damp skin and onto the carpet.

"since when d'you vape?"

your eyebrows pull together in confusion as you glance at him, the corner of your lips tugging downward. "i don't.."

"riiiiight..." he drawls, dragging the word out as he lifts the vape into view, letting it dangle lazily between two fingers. "'cos uh, this was just randomly hidden in the back of your drawer for no reason, yeah? a'ight, kid. whatever you say."

"it's not mine," you say softly, shaking your head as you pad over to him.

his eyes track your movements, watching your every step and when you reach out for the vape, chris pulls his hand back, his fingers curling around it tightly.

"what flavour is it?"

chris blinks at you, his eyebrow raising in disbelief. "the fuck does that matter for?"

you try again, reaching for the vape, but chris is much quicker than you. he shifts back, extending his arm further away, and before you can get even closer, his other hand darts out, curling firmly around the front of your towel to keep you at bay.

you repeat your question, and chris huffs, rolling his eyes as if you're testing the last of his patience—which you are—and he turns the vape over in his hand, staring at the label.

"watermelon ice." he mutters flatly.

"oh, it's kittys!" you exclaim, your face lighting up with a smile as you explain. "she must've left it here when she stayed over the other night. oh—i should probably tell her. i don't want her to be worried..."

you trail off, already turning your head to look around for your phone. chris doesn't move, but his silence speaks volumes as his lips part slightly, and his eyebrows knit together as he watches you.

he doesn't say a word, just stares as you spot your phone sitting on your desk across the room. barely noticing the way his hand is still gripping the front of your towel, you give it a light tug to free yourself from his hold, and chris loosens his fingers, though his gaze lingers on you as you move across the room.

he shifts once again on the bed, slowly putting the vape back down in the drawer, only for his attention to turn back to you when you stumble, your foot catching against something on the floor.

"oh," he hears you mutter softly as you lean down to pick up the jellycat he'd kicked earlier off the bed. holding it in your hands, you frown slightly, brushing it off carefully. "what are you doing on the floor?"

dividers credits. @issysh3ll

[scho17]

watching Flash (TV 2014) and Time Wraiths have insane potential for DC x DP crossover 

(Time Wraiths hunt time anomalies/time travelers who are shaking things up a lil Too Much for main time line continuities liking.)

CW: Oh yeah I forgot I let those things loose   BARRY 'was being hunted by fucking time dementors' ALLEN: Forgot? I'm sorry, you - you FORGOT?? CW: Yes, well, the meaning of the word Forgot hasn't changed in the last 400 years in your dimensions time has it? DANNY, blinking tiredly in all his prince of the infinite realms glory because honestly the time wraiths are not the scariest thing he's dealt with this week: This is at least marginally better than that time Box Ghost let loose Pandora's Box BARRY: Oh God, that things actually real?? I know I deal with the impossible every other tuesday but actually what the fuck. Cisco's gonna flip.

[gummydummy19]

No one else

Summary: You see Price again for the first time after he went on mission…and after you slept with him months ago

Content Warning: mentions of smut, angst, age gap

Pairing: John Price x reader (NO GENDER/LOOKS SPECIFIED)

A/N: short, sweet and angsty, folks! this has been in my drafts for a looooong time, enjoy <3

Word Count: 1100+

“I…I haven’t...been...with anyone else, you know?”

“What?”, He looked down at you, your head resting on his sticky chest, listening to his heartbeat.

“Since you left…I uhm….I haven’t slept with anyone else.”

It had been months since you last saw him.

You and John had been friends for years. Sure, he was a little older than you, but you never cared. He was handsome and smart and kind and he always knew what to do.

He was the one you called when your car broke down on the side of the road. The one who took you for a drink after a long day at work.

And last summer, he suddenly became the one who made you cum so many times you forgot your own name.

It was a one-time thing. A moment of heated passion between two friends. The fact that you'd had a crush on him for over a year played no part in the matter.

Besides, you didn't have much time to dwell, because the next morning when he got called into work, he was told that he was needed for another mission.

Well it turns out, that did actually leave you lots of time to dwell. Six months of it.

It had gone by incredibly fast and agonizingly slow at the same time, but there he was, back home, taking sips of his beer on your couch while you cooked him his first decent meal in half a year.

You'd been eyeing each other all night. Small talk paired with small touches. After dessert, when there were no more dishes to be washed, no more stupid questions to be asked, nowhere left to hide, he kissed you.

And that left you here, in your bedroom. Tangled in the forest green sheets, sweaty and satisfied. His rough hands drew gentle shapes on your shoulder until you opened your stupid mouth.

“I havent been with anyone else…”

Price was quiet, with an expression on his face that gave little away.

The silence grew thicker by the second. An uncomfortable feeling settled in your stomach and you started to regret even saying anything.

You were about to mumble out an excuse, apologize, tell him never mind, and that it was silly. Your mouth opened but before the first sound could fly out of your throat, he broke the silence.

“Neither have I.”, he stated dryly.

“You haven’t?”, you sat up a little, getting a better look at his face.

“You thought I had?” He raised his brow a little, you could tell it was a reflex. He almost looked…annoyed.

"Yeah, I mean...no....I don't know", you babbled.

"Well, I didn't."

"You could have."

"I didn't want to." he replied with just a twinge of irritation, “Did you want me to?”

“No I just…I wouldn’t have been mad…if you had.”

His brows twisted in what can only be described as a dumbfounded frown.

“What the…” he grumbled, sitting up fully too. “So if I would have fucked some other lass, you would’a been totally fine with that?”

Your eyes darted around nervously as you tried to figure out how to answer that question.

“I just…you can do what you want. You don’t have any responsibilities towards me. I would have understood if you had…if…if you’d…”

The thought of him with another woman made you sick to your stomach, but you knew you couldn't have expected that of him. That he'd stayed loyal to someone he'd slept with once.

Well...twice now.

"Alright then, good to know how you feel," he said as he got out of bed, quickly grabbing his boxers off the floor and pulling them on.

"W-, Price, where are you going?"

"I clearly got this all wrong, that's on me."

"No wait, please! I...I'm sorry I just...I..." you babbled. Your chest felt tight, that familiar feeling of panic settled in the pit of your stomach as you watched him grab his stuff off the floor.

“Can you please just hold on a minute? Please?”, you pleaded, “John!”

That got his attention. His eyes locked with yours as he stood there brooding like an angry bear.

“I thought…” he started, you could tell he was trying to keep himself composed, “I thought we had something. I thought we were something. A thing. The pair of us.”

You sat there on the bed, with your thin sheet wrapped flimsily around yourself, staring up at him.

“John…I”

“I know we didn’t exactly have a conversation about it…but after what happened I just sort of assumed…and I shouldn’t have.”

“No! God, I’m such an idiot…I'm just expressing myself all wrong…", you tried explaining, “I wanted you to know I hadn’t been with anyone else…because I don’t want anyone else…but I also know we didn’t talk about it so I would have no right to be mad if you…if you had…”

“Screwed someone else?”, he damn near barked.

“Yeah…", you visibly flinched at the thought this time. "Can you please sit back down? Please?"

He obliged. The mattress dipped a little as he sat down on the edge of the bed, his back toward you. The room was quiet again. You didn't really know what to say or do...you had missed him so much...all you wanted was to be close to him, that was all you had wanted for months.

You were staring at the freckles on his back and you couldn't help but lean closer, your lips carefully brushing against the skin and pressing a loving kiss there. You felt him tense up, yet he remained quiet.

"The thought alone makes me sick..." you started, hoping he would get what you were referring to, "but I would have understood, you were gone for a long time and you didn’t make any promises to me”

You felt him tense up again when you said that last part.

“M'not angry at you sweetheart, I'm just angry at myself ", he turned around, his sweet, blue eyes gazing at you with nothing but love and affection.

"I promised my heart to you a long time ago, I was just too dense to tell you about it..."

"Oh, John..", was all you could muster, you reached out and gently put your hand against his bearded cheek. He leaned into your touch, placing his own hand over yours.

"I should have at least made it clear how I felt, sweetheart, instead of leaving you wondering if I was fucking someone else for six months. Because I wasn’t. All I wanted was to be with you. There’s no one else I want, love.”

You were at a loss for words, so you settled for a kiss. Not that he was complaining, because he immediately maneuvered you onto his lap, mumbling praises and apologies.

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[miyaz6ki]

i might let you make me juno ✰

synopsis. literally the title, each are just small drabbles though :)! 1 kink i think they would have, as well as something they'd dislike(?), idrk what I'll put since I make these before I write 😭

the blade has spoken. i forgot to post yesterday :sob: rb for pt 2 ORR FOR MORE OF MY SUPER DUPER SICK CONTENT!!

pairings. albedo, alhaitham, capitano, childe, wriothesley, diluc, neuvillette

warnings. NSFW, mdni please!! sex :pensive:, although some are fluffier than others!, lwk hatefucking in alhaitham's (academic rivals to lovers), corruption kink (capitano's), vision play w diluc (not rly my main point), cockwarming,

albedo, who already has you placed right in front of him, legs spread as he kneels before you. although he glanced at the beauty in front of him, his eyes would tell a million words, the ones he couldn't speak. in general, whatever you were into, so was he.

the alchemist, delving his tongue into real delicacy for the first time, had himself on a chokehold, every now and then gazing back up to the figure he loved the most, pleasured by what he was doing. fuck he loved you so much. the taste had him hypnotized, he could probably do this forever.

every minute that passed, he felt himself falling in love over and over again. holding your thighs closer to the sides of his face, he could feel how much pleasure he gave.

alhaitham, who has you pinned to the wall, your chest pressed up against the surface. he held both your wrists in one of his hands, and the other on the left side of your waist. rocking his hips into yours, archons he was so fucking in love with the way you clenched against his member.

as much as he hates you, or says he does, it's really the opposite. he's never met anyone who could get him as mad as he is right now, not anyone could piss him off. he loved it so damn much.

he loved watching your eyes roll back in pleasure, no one else could get him boiling, but no one could ever be this deep inside you like he does, right? he better be. or he'll spend the next nights trying to prove himself right to you. so at least for once he'll win.

capitano loved to absolutely break you. corrupt you. he wanted to make sure you were indefinitely all his. and no one else's. he loved seeing those cute little tears of yours roll down your cheeks, whining about how you can't take it when both of you know you can!

you're all his, right? hopefully, and rightfully so, because no one as big as him would ever please your little hole now. but he supposes that something should make up for the pain you feel whenever he enters, it should be the pleasure, and somewhat comfort he can attempt to give.

so he lets you pick whatever position you wanted, and honestly, his favorite while letting you choose was whatever position he could see you the most in. especially when it includes your pretty little face. he wants to see how good he makes you feel <3

he always has his hands on you it feels so dirty. but childe has no excuse for himself, his only purpose is to make sure others know how to fuck off from what's only supposed to be his, it's not your fault, nor his, but he just has the indefinite need to show you off. whether it'd be how the marks all over your collarbone would be the prettiest!

he knows it hurts, but for now, just endure it, and he'll make sure to take care of it later. he makes sure to kiss it all away anyway, no matter how deep inside he might be, you're his reason to fight, his reason to live and come back home for another day with you.

oh well, he dreams of starting a nice little family with you. coming home to you and your two.. maybe three children? you'll both figure it out later. after he finishes inside you, his rough hands, which bruised your hips with small, little crescents ingrained into your skin. oh he's already planning the names!

wriothesley is generally turned on by any position he could see you in. similarly to capitano, but the thing is... he much prefers seeing how his cock imprints itself in your stomach.

sure your expressions are pretty cute, but nothing better than seeing you throw your head back, trying to ride his big member when you know you need help from him! all you have to do is say please...

if you didn't, he'd simply watch the show. watch you trying to take him all at once, and only hurting yourself more by trying to take what you can't (without his assistance). and in which he simply.. takes control himself, and helps you slowly sink onto his shaft instead. of course whole holding your hand!

diluc who uses his vision to his advantage, his hands already over your chest, as the temperature of his palm rises slowly, while letting you cockwarm him.

whether it's while he's writing, and signing away paperwork for the wine business, and his other hand over one of your nipples, or if all his attention is focused on you, watching how you react with a VIP seat, which would be taken literally as you sat on his dick.

a teasing touch from one of his fingers would rub against the spot where his cock was snug inside you, infused with a bit of warmth with the help of his vision.

neuvillette who's instincts get to him, as he watches your reaction through the pristine, crystal mirror in front of you both. it was a gift from his daughter figure—furina.

dear archons, please do forgive him for using her gift in such a.. filthy way, but nothing gets him going like seeing you stare at yourself be pleasured so well by none other than himself. his head fitting in the crook of your neck as he only turns himself on more, only reaching even deeper with his shaft inside you.

and wow he couldn't even wait for the main course tonight, for someone who's very knowledgeable on the taste of water from every region—he much preferred whatever substances you could make.

[imsaunteringvaguelydownwards]

part 5 of shit my friends and I have said as dc characters bc I have an eternal supply of oddly quotable moments

————

(watching arcane season two)

(Tim has seen it before, dicks watching for the first time)

Jayce: shows up in ep 5

Tim: so see i like his redesign but i know some people don-

Dick: OH HES HAIRY NOW EW

Tim: bursts out laughing

Dick: oh you would like big hairy men

Tim: DICK WHAT THE FUCK???

————

Roy: oh fuck I forgot I made chai tea

Jason: SAY THAT AGAIN???

Roy:UHHHHH I SAID CHAI LATTE NOT CHAI TEA I DONT SAY TEA TEA I SWEAR

Jason: OH

Jason: NO I THOUGHT YOU SAID “I forgot I have HIV”

Roy: WHAT

Roy: NO

Roy: I THOUGHT YOU WERE HATING ON ME SAYING CHAI TEA

Jason: NO I DO TOO ITS A FORCE OF HABIT

Roy: EXACTLY

————

Jason: wait wtf do you mean pepto bismol is illegal in France??????

————

Wally: yeah but Bruce birthed Jason

Roy: oh yeah true, Ethiopia? What’s that? Catherine? Dunno her.

Roy: there’s only bruce

Wally:Sheila who

Roy: never heard of her, nope nope

Roy: Bruce was pregnant trust

Wally: yeah with his own genes so Jason’s a clone

Roy: you get it

————

dick to Tim: after I finish helping Damian with his homework I’d like to watch an episode of cocaine- wait

Tim: ???? Hello???

dick: ARCANE I MEANT ARCANE, never heard of a show called cocaine but I bet it’s a hell of a fast ride

Tim: how did you even get to cocaine there

dick: ar-cane co-Caine i don’t know leave me alone

————

Jason (after finding out abt dicks time in jail during the Titans show s2): Dick is stronger than me if I were in solitary confinement I’d spent every waking moment annoying the shit out the guards with off key phantom of the opera

Jason: He was out here doing a moral check

————

Dick: i hate skibidi toilet so much as if its not gen alphas charlie the unicorn

Dick: which i quote almost daily

————

[milessunflowers]

This came to me in a dream but imagine.

Max Verstappen x MotoGP!male!reader. They're very similar, both started very young, they both have four championships and they're both Dutch. But Max is well, Max and reader is an absolute sweetheart and cinnamon roll.

Thank you!

just read all abt motogp and didn't realize how fucking cool it was until now so ty for that! gonna start watching it this season!

max verstappen x motogp!male!reader

synopsis: two racers, both alike in dignity, in fair motorsports, where we lay our scene- you and max are very similar in a lot of ways yet so different that you guys just make it work

author's note: motogp, i was not familiar with your game. but srsly i have to start watching bc just reading and researching on it had me so pumped up at 11:45 last night bc i forgot to rest up 😅 worth it bc AHAHAHAJDLLWWN <- that's how im feeling abt motogp. hope you like it!

you guys are so similar before you even knew each other

you both started around the same time, being the youngests to ever race in your respective sports

fans were quick to point out the parallels between the two of you

you won a good set of races (even if it's hard to do) and max was dominating the f1 world

plus you guys were both dutch

so everyone's all like "what the hell do they feed those motosports kids in the netherlands?"

you guys meet in like some random gp, maybe yours maybe his but either way a random gp

im thinking cota lowkey before daniel was booted (rip king)

so like daniel sets you guys up practically

turns out you got along amazingly, followed each other on instagram and like added each other on whatsapp and stuff

like you guys really hit off

you talk and get to know each/build a stable friendship for like a year and half before you ask him out

he says yes of course, claiming he was just about to do it and you stole his spotlight

you don't care because you are just happy to have date with someone you've come to care a lot about

you go on this date, probably to the beach because you still aren't sure what he wants to eat and when

you guys start being official shortly after

skip forward and you have won your second championship and max as one so far so you guys are out celebrating and stuff

fans spot you, ask for some pictures and notice how drastically different your personalities are

like you seem all cheery and happy all the time while max only seems to enjoy himself when he's with you or other people he likes

but they also realize how perfect you guys are and how much you counter balance each other

like one gets too overwhelmed the other is taking them home and obviously vice versa

and you guys are so so supportive

like if your bike decides not to work and you have to quit mid-race, max is there to support whether actually at the circuit or over facetime

if max has a particularly bad race, you are supporting him in anyway you can to make sure he knows how talented and amazing he is

you guys don't fight a lot, but when you do you guys are both lowkey overdramatic and realize like ten minutes later how stupid the argument was and then make up/make out over it

anyways

anytime you guys can, you support each other

like if there just happens to be the races on the same day, you make sure to tell max before and after your race how amazing and proud of him you are and max makes sure everyone knows what an amazing boyfriend you are

also championship celebrations are insane

like drunk asf, waking up sire the next day

you guys are just happy you got to celebrate them together

even if max is a little overprotective

not as much as you though, because some guy looked at max the wrong way at a bar one time and you just about punched out his lights

look, you're sweet and all but you love max and don't want people to judge that

plus you are a max defender til the day you die

you tried getting max to ride your bike that you have a home, but he almost broke his arm and you almost got berated by horner

but horner's opinion doesn't matter to you because he's horner—pretty self explanatory i think

you guys will sometimes go karting together but max always wins (you jokingly accuse him of cheating to win but he just has a cheeky smile)

its always fun because you guys really just like to battle on track

though you are less aggressive both in your motogp driving and on the kart

max, well, you guys know how max's driving is

also i feel like you would drive him around, if that makes any sense

like he screams passenger princess to me and i don't really understand it but you know what, fuck it we ball

TAGS! (if you want to be added, lmk!)

@op-81-lvr-reblogs, @koalapastries, @justaf1girl, @ghostking4m, @spoonfulofmilo, @seonghwaexile, @alex-wotton, @raizelchrysanderoctavius

[burningcheese-merchant]

That which says my name three, gets me summoned thee

Redeemed spice:

(There watching tv here btw) (ps.this whole thing was heavily based off of a scene from sonic 3)

Yandere spice:

(P.ps. those are burn marks on cheese)

God... The fact that I forgot to answer this... The fact that I let this gem collect dust in my inbox... Forgive me, BurningCheese nation, for I have sinned

unknown3doors, you are peak. You are so peak that the snow on Mt. Everest turned green looking at you. You have blessed us all with these comics. If I knew how to repay you, I most certainly would. I mean I guess I could try to draw you something in return but uh. My skills are limited haha

Also the fucking Sonic 3 reference 😭 That scene fits them crazy well, it's nuts. (And the Yandere Spice hypocrisy 😭😭😭 "not a prize to be won" as he lays beside the woman he's obsessed with and seems to have kidnapped. The audacity smh. Beat his ass, queen, it's not like it'll upset him anyway lol)

[louilies]

All that talkin’ on the net, I’m the one that got him pressed.

rapper!reader x cheater!chris (one time only tho) but pt2?

You find out through the internet first.

Not through Chris. Not through a friend. But through some random girl’s Instagram story, where she’s flexing a bracelet that looks a little too familiar—because you fucking bought it. For him.

And just like that, everything clicks.

The late replies. The half-assed excuses. The way he always had his phone facedown when he was with you, always acting like he was so damn busy but still had time to be outside with every girl but you.

You scroll through the comments under her post, and it’s like the whole world already knows. Like they’re all in on the joke, and you’re the only one who didn’t get the punchline.

“LMAO ain’t that Y/N’s man?”

“Guess not anymore.”

“Oh, she’s bold as fuck for this.”

Yeah. She is. And now? You’re pissed.

And when you’re pissed? You make sure everybody knows it.

—

Chris doesn’t even get the chance to explain when you pull up.

He barely gets a word out before you’re already going off. “You’re fucking with her?” You laugh, shaking your head. “That’s embarrassing. Not for me, though.”

"Y/N—”

“Nah, don’t ‘Y/N’ me,” you cut him off. "You must’ve lost your damn mind if you thought I wasn’t gonna find out."

Chris sighs, dragging a hand down his face. "It’s not what it looks like."

You scoff. "Oh, so she just accidentally posted your bracelet? Just randomly started talking about how ‘fine’ you are and how y’all been ‘kicking it’ for weeks?"

He stays quiet. Because he knows. He knows there’s no talking his way out of this one.

And honestly? You don’t even wanna hear it.

You shake your head, stepping back. "You did me a favor, though." A slow smile creeps onto your lips, but there’s no warmth behind it. Just amusement. "‘Cause now? I get to have fun with this.”

Chris frowns. "What does that mean?"

You don’t answer. You just pull out your phone, open up your notes app, and start typing.

—

The song drops a week later.

And you don’t hold back.

You name-drop. You call her out. You call him out. You talk about the bracelet, the lies, the way he was begging for you back just days ago—while she was out here thinking she won.

And the internet? They eat it up.

Chris is in shambles. His DMs are flooded, his comments are a war zone, and all he can do is sit back and watch as everyone clowns him.

And her?

Oh, she's pissed.

Posting subs, trying to act unbothered, but everybody knows the truth. You got her mad. You got her pressed.

And you? You’re sitting pretty, watching it all unfold, laughing. Because they really thought they could play with you.

But they forgot—

You don’t lose.

You win.

And you make sure they never forget it.

taglist: @ishasturnz

[hypernova-writes]

I forgot if I asked this one, but Engineer with baby fever?

YES YES YESSSSS GIVE THIS MAN A BABY STAT—

*coughs* excuse me, that was out of line but yall don't know how bad I've been for this texan man recently, like WHOO BOIIIII.

Baby Fever [Engineer x Reader]

It all started when you and Engie had a mission together.

The two of you had been dating for around 2 years now, and while you were returning from the mission you decided to stop to a store.

Engineer had strayed away from you to get some drinks for the road and a little snack or two just in case you got hungry when he heard you laughing.

He searched through the aisles looking for you until his eyes landed on you casually talking with a younger woman, while holding what he assumed was the womans baby. You were cooing to the little one, giggling as they tried to pull at your hair. You were smiling as you bounced the little one in your arms.

That just sent his heart racing.

It didn't help that when you got back in the car and headed back on the road that you were talking about how cute the little one was, and what you would do if you had a child on your own.

Now Engineer was a semi rational man, I mean having a child while the two of you were active mercenaries would be a questionable decision but he thinks you two could manage.

Besides, having his own little one running around the base, someone he could teach skills to, and someone to call him Papa..

But now here he was, watching you bend over his desk reaching for something in the workshop, and all he could think about was dropping those pretty shorts he bought you and fucking you til a baby swelled in you.

"Suga'..I was thinkin'.." He starts off as he walks up to you, you chuckle in response, still looking for whatever you were searching for.

"And what is that, HoneyBee? New invention?" You ask as you found what you were looking for, but you were still leaning over the table as now you were examining the object.

You then gasp one you feel your boyfriend press himself up against your behind, his hands going to caress and feel your hips, you bite your bottom lip before sitting up straight. “Honey?..”

“sorry darl’..been thinking..thinking real hard..” He starts as he trails his hands along your body.

“Been thinking about pumpin’ you full of my babies..”

You jolt as but, your face heating up as you turn in his arms. "O-oh?..and what brought this on?.."

Engineer tilts his head. "Seeing you with that baby earlier, it unlocked somethin' in my brain..seeing you be all maternal..wanna see you be like that to our own kids."

He backs you up until you had no choice but to get hiked up onto the work desk. You wrap your arms around his neck and give him a small smile.

"Well..i mean..we could try..?"

Engineer chuckles as he leans close to you, making you lay back on the work desk

"..oh darlin'..you're not gettin' up from this desk til' your fuckin' full of me.."

Hope you enjoy!!!

[xmads-omensx]

thinking about how tomorrow is pancake day for us and making pancakes with noah, from scratch because he insists that he can do it, meanwhile you've already secretly stocked up on the premade ones with the different fillings

Pairing: Noah Sebastian X Reader

CW: food, fluff, idiots in love

Hello I completely forgot about pancake day what the fuck it’s like my fave day EVER

HAVE A GOOD PANCAKE DAY MY LOVE

Sidenote had to make this into a full thing bc I’m craving fluff so bad

Tags: @shayeanna-ashlie @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @supersquirrel1996 @tosoundlessdarkistare bloody-spades @klutzy-kay24 @heyyoplayer @lacy1986  @dominuslunae @collidewiththesav @kenjipepsi1 @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @chey-h @thisbicc @fadingangelwisp @overmydeadbodysblog @illmakeyousaywow   @dsireland86 @missduffsblog  @littlebear423 @blade-dressed-in-red @rumoured-whispers @dontwantthemoney @eclipseeetop @xxkittenkissesxx @theanarchymuse95 @blackveilomens @lilgarbitch @lil-garbitch @concretejunglefm @museonfilm @death-ofpeace-ofmind @xxkatsatwatwafflexx @kissestomyomens @flowery-mess @athenexe

Noah was insanely determined to make the pancakes himself, even though he has literally never made them before.

You were more or less certain that he wouldn’t be able to do it.

Of course, you were right.

Pancake Day rolls around and Noah cannot get a single pancake right.

Flour is all over his shirt, his face, his hair, on the… ceiling?

You watch him for a few more minutes until he huffs in defeat, his head hanging low in his usual dramatic fashion as you enter the kitchen, pulling some pre made ones out from the cupboard.

“Here baby” you offer gently.

“Pancakes?” He asked in a defeated yet hopeful voice.

“Yes baby. Pancakes.” He smiled brightly as if he was looking at bars of pure gold instead of packs of pancakes.

He’s a strange man. But he’s your strange man.

He sits at the dinner table happily eating the pre made pancakes and blissfully ignoring the mess in the kitchen that he will inevitably have to clean up.

He is still covered in flour, but he isn’t letting that stop him enjoying his pancakes.

He smiles at you happily, mouth full of pancake.

He’s adorable.

[eternallyordinary]

“He Belongs to You” - Part 9

spotify playlist<3

Part 1<3

Part 2<3

Part 3<3

Part 4<3

Part 5<3

Part 6<3

Part 7<3

Part 8<3

*:・ﾟ✧*:・ﾟ✧✧・ﾟ: *✧・ﾟ:* ˚₊· *:✧*:

Summary: You push Homelander to the brink, and yet… you’re the only one who can save him.

Warnings: violence, smut, yandere, control, age gap relationship, self harm, cutting, knifes, guns, aggressive behavior, harassment, foul language (let me know if i forgot any<3)

*:・ﾟ✧*:・ﾟ✧✧・ﾟ: *✧・ﾟ:* ˚₊· *:・ﾟ✧*:・ﾟ✧✧・ﾟ:

Vaught had given you barely twenty-four hours to breathe before forcing you in front of the cameras. You had to remind yourself you weren’t doing it for them, you were doing it for the people. For Mrs. Lieberman, even if her husband was a piece of shit. Was he even a piece of shit? While you may be one of the good supes, you are a diamond in the rough. You’ve heard stories of supes hurting others, taking and never giving. Maybe he was right in what he said. Maybe he had every right to puncture you so deeply, and you’re not even referring to the stab wound-you’re talking about the puncture it left in your chest, the heavy feeling of sadness it left on your heart. Vought on the other hand had its agenda, and it didn’t include your feelings.

“He was a piece of shit,” Homelander reminds you. “He deserved to die.” You snap out of your trance. Does he fucking read minds too? He gives you a “tsk tsk” look, coming up behind you and grabbing your waist. He can’t read minds, he just already knows you so well.

Homelander insisted on taking you up to your bed and taking care of you. You guys settled into bed and watched another dumb reality show. While yes, the shows are dumb, it’s nice to watch normal people being normal and doing normal things. He watched as you fell asleep - stroking your hair and taking in your scent. The next morning, you could tell he didn’t sleep at all, again. While you understood he didn’t really need sleep to function, you couldn’t help but feel bad he was so restless and you were the reason why.

Your makeup was sprawled out on the counter. One thing that hasn’t changed about you since taking compound V is your lack of organization, your messy side. Sometimes putting stuff away neatly felt to overwhelming. Homelander looked at the mess on the counter and couldn’t help but laugh. Moments like these he was reminded of your age, the youth in you that still exists.

“Why don’t you just have them do your makeup?” He asks. “I like doing it,” you say. You loved zoning out to some music or a good podcast and making up your face. “You don’t even need it,” he says. You roll your eyes. “That’s corny”. He pinches your side and tickles you. “I mean it!” You let out a laugh. It feels good to laugh and forget about the events of yesterday, even if it’s just for a second.

You sit on the bathroom counter, your feet in the sink. You slowly put on your makeup, as if slowing down would help you avoid this god forsaken interview. You examine your neck. A faint raised scar sit on top of it. You were still not used to the way your body healed so quickly. When you first were injected, you wanted to try everything, testing yourself to the brink. You slit your wrists so deep you swore it was the end, but marvelously, you lived. You never told anyone this. A lot of things you have kept to yourself - maybe one day you could tell Homelander. You feel like if anyone, he’d understand.

—

Homelander sat next to you in the sterile, white-lit CNN studio, his presence towering even in stillness. The host, Mark Davidson, was the perfect embodiment of corporate news—polished, rehearsed, the kind of man who probably voted against the Equal Rights Amendment but smiled on camera and called female colleagues “kiddo.” You could tell this was true just based on his appearance, but his demeanor was another story. He addressed Homelander immediately, kissing his ass as if they were longtime pals. Does he know who he’s trying to impress? Like Homelander would give a fuck. He eyed you up and down, sizing you up and taking in every inch of your curves, looking at the way your suit squeezes your ass. Maybe you should’ve got longer shorts like Homelander suggested. You find yourself pulling them down. Homelander doesn’t miss a beat, he notices this exchange and his face falls. Here we go.

The segment started smoothly, fake smiles and empty pleasantries. Until it didn’t.

“First off,” Mark began, leaning slightly toward Homelander, “let me just say—what a remarkable display of heroism from you yesterday. The way you handled the shooter, the way you neutralized the threat—truly, an inspiration,” Mark gestures to you, “This one is lucky to be able to shadow you the way she did yesterday. Not a lot of supes, especially women supes can say they’ve had that experience. Truly once in a lifetime, kiddo.” He gives you a fake smile. Ew.

You stiffened.

Oh. Here we go.

Homelander’s face didn’t change at first. A slow blink. A twitch of his jaw. A subtle shift in energy, but you felt it. That coiled thing beneath the surface.

The interviewer kept going, oblivious. “The people of New York—and the country—owe you their thanks. It’s moments like these that remind us why you’re America’s greatest hero, Homelander.”

Ashley, standing just off-camera, was already rubbing her temples.

And then—

“I wasn’t going to do shit.”

A silence so thick it seemed to suck the air from the studio.

Mark Davidson blinked. “…I’m sorry?”

Homelander leaned forward, his voice deceptively smooth. “Come on Marky Mark. You’re not that old… you have a toupee but your hearing is still intact, right? I said, I. wasn’t. going. to. do. shit.”

The words were sharp, like the edge of a blade being slowly pressed to someone’s throat. He gestured toward you. “I’d like you to apologize for treating her like an idiot. Because she’s the one who ran through the crowd. She’s the one who stopped bullets with her hands. I was simply enjoying the show. I got to say, watching my girl in action like that really made my cock hard.” Homelander grabs his junk, and then gives an evil, smile. Your eyes widen. You’re praying to God your dad isn’t watching this at home.

Mark opened his mouth, then closed it again.

“And what’d she get for all the work she did?” Homelander’s voice darkened, the weight of it pressing into the room. “Some incel with a tiny dick shooting her in the chest. And then an ungrateful prick stabbing her in the fucking neck. And then, you, an old geezer with balls that probably hang down to the floor as soon as your pants drop, treating her like nothing. God bless America, am I right?!”

The camera operator hesitated, looking toward the producers. Should they keep rolling?

Ashley, off to the side, looked like she was about to vomit.

“Cut it! Cut the fucking cameras!” She pleads.

Mark forced a chuckle, shifting slightly in his seat. “Well, of course, we—”

“Oh yeah,” Homelander continued, flashing that too-perfect smile, “I killed him too. Both of them. Didn’t I, baby?” Homelander puts a possessive hand on your leg. “And I’d do it again.”

Ashley squeezed her eyes shut.

The host paled. “Right, but—”

“Say you’re sorry.”

A second of pure, suffocating silence.

“Did I fucking stutter? I said, say you’re sorry.”

“I-I’m sorry.”

“Now say it like you mean it. And I want you to look into the camera while you say it. So the viewers at home, the wonderful citizens of America know how fucking sorry you are.”

“I….. I’m sorry. I am really sorry.” Mark says.

Ashley frantically gestured to the control room, Cut it. Cut it now. The segment’s lead producer hesitated—Vought wouldn’t like this, but ratings. The feed stayed live.

Mark cleared his throat, visibly uncomfortable.

You exhaled, keeping your posture poised, but the moment was spiraling. You needed to smooth this over before Homelander decided to go completely off the rails.

So you leaned in slightly, brushing your fingers against Homelander’s wrist—a tiny touch, barely noticeable, but he felt it. His muscles twitched, but the edge of his rage dulled just a little. You knew he’d appreciate it.

“Look,” you said, keeping your voice calm, even. “At the end of the day, we’re here to protect people. That’s the priority.” You glanced at Mark. “And I think what Homelander is saying—passionately—is that it’s easy to put people like us on a pedestal. But we’re still…” You hesitated for half a second, choosing your words carefully. “We’re still people. We have families and friends and people who love us. Some of us didn’t even choose to be this way. And yet, we continue to fight for all of you.”

Homelander’s lip twitched, amusement flickering through his irritation. How did you pull that out of your ass? Nice save.

Mark forced a tight smile. “Of course. And on that note, let’s take a quick break.”

The second the cameras cut, Ashley grabbed onto her assistant, also Ashley.

“Oh my God,” she whispered through gritted teeth. “Does he ever stop talking?”

Homelander grinned, hearing her. “I don’t appreciate the way he spoke to her.”

Ashley closed her eyes briefly, muttering something that sounded a lot like fucking kill me before inhaling sharply. She approaches the two of you with panicked strides.

“Okay. Fine. Whatever. We have another sit-down with Cameron Coleman, and—”

“No.”

Ashley blinked. “No?”

Homelander smiled. “We’re done.”

She opened her mouth—then shut it. Not worth it.

She turned to you instead. “Can you at least—”

“I’d like to take a day to recover after being stabbed in the neck,” you said simply. “If that’s okay with you, Ashley.”

Ashley groaned, throwing her hands up. “Great. Perfect. Fantastic. I hope you two are very happy together.”

—

The second you stepped out into the crisp New York air, Homelander turned to you with a smirk.

“Dinner tonight?”

The shift was so abrupt you almost laughed.

You raised a brow. “We’re just ignoring all of that?”

“What’s there to ignore?” he said smoothly. “I defended my girl on national television. Very romantic, if you ask me.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t protest.

“And you… you liked it.” Homelander said.

It’s true. Yesterday, you would’ve torn him a part for claiming you on national television. But this time? It was hot the way he defended you, the way he treated you as an equal and made sure the man said sorry. It turned you on, to be honest.

You give an innocent little smile and decide not to say a word. He knows that look, a naughty girl trying to hide how naughty she really is.

—

Dinner felt… normal. Or at least, as normal as things could be.

You both traded in your suits for something more relaxed. Homelander wasn’t good at wearing “normal clothes”. To be honest, he didn’t really own any. Never had a reason to wear them. While you had other clothes, you didn’t love dressing up. You preferred comfort. You threw on a baggy pair of low rise jeans, a cashmere sweater, and some loafers. You hoped this would be good enough for wherever you two were headed. You had a feeling he would appreciate more skin, but that’s just not who you were. It confused him as during the photoshoot, you had no problem wearing a bikini, sexualizing yourself. But that’s different. That was you taking your power back. Right now, you just wanted to be cozy.

The restaurant was intimate, warm candlelight flickering against polished wood.

Paparazzi lurked outside, but neither of you cared. For the first time in days, you let yourself relax. You figured you’d get home to thousands of tweets criticizing the fact you two went on a date after a mass shooting. You didn’t care. For a moment, you felt like you could finally breathe.

You even caught yourself laughing at something stupid he said. The bill came, but you both wanted to Basque in the normalcy a little bit longer.

And then—

“Let’s get another drink,” you mused.

Homelander smirked. “Is that a request or a command?”

You grinned. “Neither. A suggestion.”

“Then I suggest we do it.”

—

The bar was dim, humming with quiet conversation.

He ordered an old fashioned, you ordered a dirty martini. His fingers drum against his glass, slow and methodical, as he watches the amber liquid swirl inside.

You sip your martini, savoring the briny bite of it as you glance around the bar. The low hum of conversation, the clink of ice in glasses, the faint melody of jazz drifting through the air—it all feels normal. Comforting, even.

For the first time in a long time, you feel at ease. The tension in your shoulders loosens, the ever-present hum of anxiety in the back of your mind dulls. You’re not waiting for something to go wrong. Not looking for a fight.

But then, like clockwork, the universe delivers.

“Homelander, oh my god, it’s really you.” Two girls your age swarm him like he’s some kind of messiah. They’re draped in tight dresses, teetering on sky-high heels, cleavage spilling out as if they’re on display. It’s obvious they pregamed before heading to the club—something you’ve never had the slightest interest in.

“Hi, ladies,” Homelander greets them, his voice dripping with amusement. Forty-eight hours ago, he would’ve dragged one of them into the bathroom, fucked her raw, and left Ashley to clean up the PR mess. Now, he actually tries to feel something—lust, arousal, that primal hunger that used to come so naturally. But it’s gone. That doesn’t mean he can’t have a little fun, though—just enough to get under your skin.

One of the girls clings to his arm, eyes wide with curiosity. “Where’s your suit?” she asks in that unmistakable Kardashian-esque drawl. Homelander places a hand on her lower back.

You fume. Electricity crackles through your veins, invisible to the naked eye. Jealousy. Fantastic.

“Well, you see, this one here is a little too humble—made me come out in Tom Ford,” he smirks.

You swirl the olives in your martini, forcing a smirk of your own as you glance up at the group. You don’t want him to know this is getting to you, though he doesn’t need to hear your heartbeat twice to know it is.

“Well, this is pretty hot too, I won’t lie.” The girl giggles, flipping her hair, and Homelander humors her with a charming smile, pretending to care.

“Isn’t it?” you chime in, standing from your chair. “Told you it would turn you into a looker. I was right.” You turn to the bartender, raising a finger. “Hey, when you get a minute, how about a round of shots for everyone in the bar? On Homelander. America’s hero!”

The girls cheer, mistaking your pettiness for generosity. Homelander’s smirk falters. He started this to make you jealous, to get you hot and bothered. But in true stubborn fashion, you had to take it a step further, didn’t you?

“Can you take a picture of us?!” the ringleader chirps, holding out her phone.

“Oh my gosh. Of course! I would love to.” You take the phone, pretending to snap a hundred pictures. In reality, you’ve just wiped it clean with a factory reset, just to make her life difficult. I mean, it’s better than lasering her face off.

“Y’all have so much fun,” you say sweetly, handing it back. “I’m gonna see if one of those Columbia boys over there wants to fuck me.”

The glass in Homelander’s hand shatters. One of the girls shrieks.

“We’re leaving,” he growls, grabbing your arm in a vice grip. That’ll leave a bruise.

—

He drags you outside, around the corner, into the shadows. He towers over you, chest heaving, eyes searing into yours. His hand twitches, moving toward your throat—but then he remembers your voice from the other night.

“You choked me,” you had whispered, wide-eyed and fragile.

He clenches his jaw, then slams his fist into the brick beside your head, cracking it. He wouldn’t hurt you. But he has to release the monster somehow. Why did you have to pull it out of him?

“What the fuck was that?” he demands.

You tilt your head, lips curling. “Me playing your game.”

His nostrils flare. “You want to be fucked by some young college kid? Someone your age? They won’t know how to touch you. They won’t know how to make you feel the way I do. How many times do I have to tell you that you’re mine?”

“Oh, come on. I was just trying to piss you off. You knew what you were doing, flirting with those girls in front of me. I thought tonight was supposed to be normal. Just me and you. But there’s always a game. Always some fucking twist.”

His fists loosen against the brick, his gaze softening—just a fraction.

“You’re jealous,” he murmurs.

“No, I’m not. I just think it’s really fucking immature to—”

“You’re jealous. Just admit it.”

“I’m not fucking jealous,” you snap, shoving him with more force than you knew you had. Blame it on the martini.

A low growl rumbles in his chest. His cock throbs. Oh, how he wants to take you—hard, rough, make you feel it. He thought you were too fragile. Maybe you’re not.

You stare at each other, the tension thick enough to snap, and then—you collide.

Mouths crash, hands claw, bodies tangle. Your legs wrap around him as he lifts you effortlessly, lips dragging over your throat, nipping, teasing.

“My sweet, jealous girl,” he taunts against your skin, voice dark and dripping with intent. “Daddy has to punish you now.”

Before you can react, you’re airborne, the wind rushing past you. Minutes later, you crash through the balcony doors, swallowed by the dim glow of the room, breathless, wild.

“Turn around,” he orders, rough, commanding. “Hands and knees.”

You obey without hesitation. Fabric tears. His grip on you tightens.

“I told you I had to punish you,” he murmurs, kneeling behind you. His palm comes down—hard. A sharp gasp escapes you, your body jerking forward at the sting. It hurts. It burns. But fuck, it feels so good.

Then he stills.

His hands remain on you, warm and trembling. His breath is ragged, chest rising and falling in quick, uneven movements.

And that’s when it hits him.

You’re innocent. His sweet girl. His delicate thing.

He had forgotten. Again.

A violent war rages inside him. The instinct to take, to claim, to devour you whole—it burns like an inferno. But you—you aren’t meant for that. You’re trusting him with something no one else ever has.

And that trust? It’s both his salvation and his undoing.

His hands, once gripping your hips like a vice, loosen. He exhales sharply, like he’s forcing himself back into his body, back into control.

Then, gently—so gently—he turns you over, onto your back, caging you beneath him. His forehead presses to yours, his fingers trembling as they trace your jaw. His touch is different now. Not punishing. Not possessive. Just… reverent.

“I—” He stops himself, shaking his head, struggling for air. He needs a second. He needs to reel himself in.

Your hands slide up his arms, fingers curling at his shoulders. Your pulse is fast, but not with fear. With something else.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he rasps, voice wrecked. “I can’t.”

You reach up, brushing his hair back from his face, grounding him. Soft. Slow. Steady.

“You won’t,” you whisper.

His chest tightens. His jaw clenches. He wants to believe you, but God help him, he knows himself too well.

“You don’t know that,” he grits out, still hovering over you like he’s afraid to lay his full weight down, afraid to lose himself in you completely. “You don’t know what I’m capable of.”

Your fingers skim his jaw, tilting his face toward yours. “I know you.”

That stops him cold.

You should be afraid. You should run. He wants you to. It would make this easier.

But you don’t. And you won’t.

“Let me have you,” you whisper, voice shaky but sure.

His breath stutters. His eyes—those impossibly blue, piercing eyes—search yours, looking for hesitation, for uncertainty. But there’s none.

“Baby…” he exhales, shaking his head like he’s still trying to fight it.

“I want you,” you say, firmer now, fingers tightening in his hair.

A low, pained groan rumbles in his throat. His forehead drops to your shoulder, his grip on you ironclad as he breathes through the chaos in his head.

Then—finally—he lets go.

He kisses you slow, deep, like he’s surrendering to something greater than himself. His hands map out your body, skimming your waist, your thighs, treating you like something precious, something he’s never deserved.

And for the first time in his life, he’s careful.

His lips linger on yours, moving with aching slowness, memorizing the taste of you. His touch softens, no longer gripping, no longer taking.

Because this isn’t about him. It’s about you.

His forehead presses to yours as he exhales, trying to settle the wildfire raging inside him. He should be the one in control—he always is. But now? You’re the one keeping him steady.

Your fingers skim up his back, tracing the hard lines of muscle. “I trust you,” you whisper.

Three simple words. But they hit him harder than anything ever has.

His hands still. His breathing stops. He wants to say you shouldn’t. He wants to say he doesn’t deserve it.

But he can’t.

Because he needs to believe you.

His lips brush against your temple, his hands skimming lower, resting on your thighs. He spreads them slowly, carefully, settling between them.

“Tell me you still want this,” he murmurs, voice rough, unsteady.

You nod, but he shakes his head. “No. Say it.”

“I want this,” you breathe, cheeks flushed. “I want you.”

His restraint nearly snaps in half.

A strangled groan escapes his throat, his fingers digging into the sheets instead of your skin. He drops his forehead to your stomach, inhaling sharply before pressing a lingering kiss there.

“You have no fucking idea what you’re doing to me.”

But you do.

And you love it.

Homelander drags his lips back up your body, trailing slow, soft kisses along your skin. Taking his time. Worshipping you. Letting this be more than just a claim.

His hands frame your face again, his thumbs stroking over your cheeks as he leans in. “I’ll go slow,” he murmurs against your lips.

It’s not a question.

It’s a promise.

You nod, exhaling shakily as he positions himself at your entrance, teasing, just barely pushing inside.

Your body tenses instinctively, nerves curling tight in your stomach. But instead of pushing further, he stops. Waits.

His lips ghost over yours. “Relax, sweetheart,” he whispers, voice warm, steady. “I’ve got you.”

You let out a slow breath, unclenching, willing your body to trust him the way your heart does.

And when he feels you loosen beneath him, he pushes in just a little more, watching your face, searching for any flicker of discomfort.

The stretch is overwhelming. The heat. The way he’s everywhere all at once.

He stills, barely halfway in, his jaw clenched so tightly it looks like it might crack. “So fucking tight,” he breathes, gripping the sheets beside your head.

You shift slightly, adjusting, and a strangled groan leaves his throat. His hands fly to your hips, holding you still.

“Don’t move,” he grits out.

You bite your lip, looking up at him. His pupils are blown wide, his expression wrecked, desperate.

You lift a hand to his face, brushing your fingers over his cheek, grounding him. “It’s okay. I trust you,” you whisper again.

His breath shudders.

And then, with one slow, deliberate motion, he finally pushes in completely.

A gasp rips from your lips, your fingers clutching at his shoulders, your body stretching to take him. He stills again, pressing kisses to your jaw, your throat, whispering something soft, something only you can hear.

“Are you okay?” His voice is tight, strained.

You nod, swallowing hard as you breathe through the sensation, letting yourself adjust.

Then, after a moment, you shift, a silent invitation.

His fingers tighten on your waist.

“Fuck,” he mutters, dropping his forehead against yours. “You were made for me.”

And then, slowly, carefully, he starts to move.

And for the first time in his life, he doesn’t take.

He gives.

His movements are slow at first—achingly slow—like he’s still holding onto the last thread of his control, afraid to push too hard, afraid to lose himself completely in the heat of you. His hands grip your hips, not to claim, not to take, but to anchor himself, to keep from unraveling.

He watches your face, his eyes searching—always searching—for any flicker of discomfort, any sign of hesitation. But all he sees is you, lips parted, cheeks flushed, your breath coming in soft, uneven pants.

And fuck, you’re so beautiful like this.

A low groan rumbles in his chest, his forehead pressing against yours as he exhales sharply. “You feel so fucking good,” he murmurs, his voice strained, wrecked. “I don’t—baby I—I don’t deserve this.”

You whimper softly, shifting beneath him, testing the way he fits, the way your body stretches around him. The sensation is foreign, intense, overwhelming in the best way possible. It aches, but not in a way that makes you want to stop. If anything, it makes you want more.

You reach up, fingers threading into his hair, pulling him closer. “You can go harder baby,” you whisper, breathless. “Just take me.”

His body shudders against yours, and for a moment, he just looks at you—like he’s trying to burn this into his memory, like he knows he’ll never feel anything as real as this again.

And then, finally, his control snaps.

His hips roll forward, slow but deep, pushing in just a little further, dragging a soft, breathy moan from your lips. He groans, his grip tightening on your hips as he starts to move, a steady rhythm that sends warmth curling deep in your stomach.

“Fuck,” he breathes, dropping his head to your shoulder, his breath hot against your skin. “You’re so—so wet for daddy.”

Your fingers dig into his back, nails dragging over the hard lines of muscle as you arch into him, inviting him deeper. He obliges, sinking into you fully, groaning at the way you squeeze around him.

“You’re taking me so well,” he murmurs, lips brushing over your jaw, down to your throat, where he lingers, breathing you in. “Didn’t think I’d be able to do this—be gentle—but fuck—”

He cuts himself off with another roll of his hips, just enough to make your breath hitch. You grip his shoulders, gasping softly, overwhelmed by the sheer size of him, the way he stretches you open, fills you completely.

“You okay?” he rasps, his voice edged with restraint, but there’s something else beneath it—something almost soft.

You nod, swallowing hard, your chest heaving. “Yes,” you whisper. “I—I just… I didn’t know it would feel like this.”

His lips curl into something like a smirk, but there’s no arrogance behind it, only warmth. “Yeah?” he murmurs, rolling his hips again, slower this time, dragging out the friction. “How does it feel, baby?”

You don’t have the words. All you can do is whimper, gasping as pleasure starts to curl through you, replacing the ache, melting the last remnants of tension from your body.

His smirk falters, his breath catching at the sound. “Such a good girl,” he mutters, but he’s barely holding on.

His pace quickens just a fraction, his hips pressing deeper, moving with purpose now, with intent. His mouth finds yours, swallowing your moans as he thrusts into you, each roll of his hips measured, precise.

“You really were made for me,” he groans against your lips. “Look at you—taking me so fucking perfectly. You are such a good girl, waiting for daddy for so long.”

You shudder, back arching, heat coiling tight in your stomach. You don’t know if it’s his words or the way he’s moving inside you, but it’s building, growing stronger, a pleasure so intense you don’t know what to do with it.

He feels it. Sees it. The way your body trembles beneath him, the way your fingers tighten in his hair.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, voice low, coaxing. “Let me feel it. Cum for me baby.”

And you do.

The pleasure crashes over you like a wave, white-hot and blinding. You cry out, clutching at him as your body clenches around him, pulling him deeper, drowning him in you.

He groans, burying his face in your neck, his rhythm faltering as he chases his own release. His hips snap forward, thrusts turning erratic, desperate, until finally, with a rough, shuddering breath, he breaks.

His body goes taut, a deep growl tearing from his throat as he spills into you, holding you tight, as if letting go would shatter him completely.

For a moment, neither of you move. The only sound in the room is your uneven breathing, the steady pound of your heart in your ears. His weight settles against you, warm, grounding, his forehead still pressed against your shoulder.

Then, slowly, gently, he lifts his head, his fingers tracing lazy circles over your hip.

His eyes find yours, something unreadable flickering in their depths. He swallows hard, his jaw tightening.

“Mine,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you.

You smile sleepily, still dazed, your fingers brushing over his cheek. “Yours,” you whisper.

His lips press against yours, slow and deliberate, like he’s grounding himself in the feeling of you.

He always thought he was a god—but there must be another one who brought you to him. Maybe he’s human after all.

*:・ﾟ✧*:・ﾟ✧✧・ﾟ: *✧・ﾟ:* ˚₊· *:・ﾟ✧*:・ﾟ✧✧・ﾟ:

[neiacrockets]

silly ass eltingville club oc self insert!!

i just now decided to interact with eltingville fandom holy shit i remember watching the pilot in the summer of 2023 or 2024 its such a shock for me not gonna lie

neia (nene) perez!

general info

i haven’t made much lore for her yet but heres go nothing “nene” (neia perez) is addicted to fighting games and gambling game currency on gacha/lootbox things, she is usually seen at a nearby arcade thats close to joe’s comics and she wastes her allowance on getting the highest score

also i forgot to add that shes 5’1”

relationship info

neia despises bill but she personally finds it funny to annoy him, probably one of the few people who don’t take him seriously (you know she beats his ass at the new major violence fighting game) also based off this info alone i feel like neia and jane would be mutual friends

neia finds josh to be weird but he is her most favorite person to annoy and lie to for fun, she would claim to have something he wants (money, a collectible random figure, etc) and somehow here & there he falls for it

neia would stand at least 5ft away from pete, she personally feels like something is off with him like the first thought she has “how could one be just soooo into horror stuff…”

neia has the most ehh relationship with jerry, its not as entertaining for her to annoy him so at most she asks him annoying questions or beg him for quarters

neia is one of the few people who is nice to willoughby, when she meets somebody for the first time she makes it her mission to be nice to them! they both hang out sometimes due to similar interests

her pilot intro card thing

SHE CAME OUT SO GOOD

ignore the skullgirls sneak i have a big hyperfix on it right now pretend its some thing major violence related i don’t fucking know

i have nothing else to talk about so heres some concept art and her in the comic art style (i tried)

anyways folks uh see you in my next post!

[infinityandmore]

Doomsday | S.G.

I only feel alive if I'm in pain....so here's some angst :)

I made Satoru into kind of an ass sorry :(

The silent pitter patter of the rain only worsened my mood, almost like Tokyo knew what I was thinking and decided to set the scene like this was the climax in a rom-com, except this one won't have a happy ending.

It was exhausting dating a sorcerer even more when he happened to be Satoru Gojo, constant missions and trips only seeing him briefly in passing, things worsened when Geto betrayed him, and he inevitably had to kill his best friend to save the future of the world, what I didn't expect was the backlash, the endless nights of guilt-ridden tears and misplaced anger, in short I had become the equivalent to an emotional punching bag.

I hoped he would get better, with time and patience and a soft kind of love that even the most bitter person would break under, but it was never enough, Satoru would always take and take whispered sweet nothings in the blanket of night turned into venomous words in the jarring daylight, so that left me sitting in our shared apartment a packed bag containing my clothes and half my self-respect waiting at the door the last fight from a few hours ago replaying in my mind like a broken record.

"You wouldn't understand" His gaze falls on me, impossibly bright blue eyes digging into the deepest parts of me almost like he was looking for more ammunition.

"Then help me understand 'Toru" I look at him my eyes desperate, he came home in one of his moods the kind he only gets in when he's stuck between a bad decision and a worse one.

I walk up to him reaching for his arm, but he steps back almost like my touch was filled with some flesh-eating disease.

"I can't, you're nothing but a bakery worker, you wouldn't understand what it takes to be me." the blow lands exactly where he aims it, my chest deflating, I turn scoffing slightly my eyes welling with tears I refuse to shed.

"I've been with you for six years, and somehow you only have a problem with me being a non-sorcerer when it's convenient for you." I turn to look at him his gaze hard, he had come into my bakery, a new shop I had worked myself down to the bone to open up, with a smile that didn't reach his eyes and penchant for something sweet, I found him coming in daily until he asked me on a date.

"Yeah, and maybe, it was a mistake asking you out" I rear back as if he slapped me, blinking eyes looking into blue ones searching for a hint of doubt but only finding resolution.

I turn holding onto the cold marble counter, feeling for something to tell me this is real, that this was the killing blow in a year's long battle, he breezes past me, a muttered 'I'm going out' and the slam on the door nailing the last nail in the coffin that was our dead relationship.

The lock clicks, a soft jingling of keys signaling he's home, I turn watching as he gazes down at the packed bag, it was night now, I was expecting the soft whispers and half-assed apologies as he thrusted into me until dawn.

"You don't mean it" His voice is merely a whisper, and I stand willing myself to take whatever resolve I have left and take the first step out of this toxic cycle.

"I do" I drop my set of keys on the marble counter, his eyes meet mine swimming with hurt like I was the one that pulled the trigger in this fucked up series of events.

"You're just giving up? Just like that?" He steps forward and I step back, his face falling knowing he didn't have me under his thumb anymore, I pick up the bag the weight whispering for me to put it down and take whatever he's willing to give me.

"This ended a long time ago Satoru, don't make it hard" I walk past him, he scoffs grasping at straws to rein me back in like I was an animal that forgot its training.

"I love you, I'm sorry" those five words stop me, the combination something he used before to placate me, I turn to him my eyes tired of putting up a fight.

"Take care of yourself Gojo" I close the door behind me, making my way out of the apartment building that held me captive for six years, stepping out into the rainy night, somehow, I felt both half dead and like I just started living at the same time.

'Doomsday is close at hand, I'll book the marching band to play as you speak, it's only the death of me'

[fruit-fight]

Oh shit sorry that anon was me! Lmao! I forgot to sign like I usually do, so I get a notification for the corresponding blog. Oops. I was actually distracted while I wrote that, don't remember what I was doing tho.

First of all, hi~ I'm honored to be speaking to you and even more honored you liked my random ass thought. I fucking love your art style, keep it up! You want to use my dialog? Go for it! Just tag me in the update so I can read asap.

Second, omfg YES. KIDS DESERVE CRASHOUTS. I don't see many aus like this, and I thought it'd be an interesting turning point in the kids' relationship with MK, if not the plot. Wukong would be CRUSHED if he witnessed this, but you said shadowpeach's turning point would be after dealing with lbd. So, I thought it would help the kids process the transition in dynamic by starting a little earlier with the problems that can be fixed.

These are all things he needs to hear from his Dad, but listening to MK go on and on about how much Wukong loves each and every one of his kids helps, at least a little. This stranger is just so sincere in how amazing he thinks he is with evidence he'd only know if Wukong told him. If his Dad bragged about him. If there's one thing I know, parents who love their kids like nothing else don't. Shut. Up. I wouldn't be surprised if Wukong, despite not wanting to get close to MK himself at first, can't not slip in to rambling about his kids once MK knows they exsist and unconsciously labels himself as a non-threat to them.

Mk gets to sit through hours of training where Wukong is making comments and bragging about his kids without realizing. "C'mon, kid, ____ had this stance down like two months after they first started, don't tell me you have less balance than a wittle 100 year old" "I'm only 21-" "And mortal. I thought you guys were faster at this whole learning thing." "UGH!" "None of my cubs complain this much either. Even when they need to eat [insert food they equally hate]" He's insufferable. Makes MK's own insecurities flare-up sometimes but in a way that's indigant on the cubs' behalf like, if they're that great, why are you training me???

And now he gets to watch the result of a kid who misses the times with their father that Wukong talks about ALL THE TIME. Knocks down MK's hero worship a couple healthy pegs while they're at it. Monkey King is awesome, but holy shit his mentor is stupid as a dad if he let his cub get to this point. His dadsy and papa never let him feel like less or unloved, let alone get to the point hes taking it out on others, even though Mk was just a random kid that walked into their life back then, too. Makes him feel even worse.

A heart to heart that helps the cub start to understand that neither he nor MK has stake in this conversation and it's entirely the stubborn adult monkeys that need to figure out themselves but until then the kids have each other and need to remember that their parents adore them. Mk assures them that his door, arms, or ears are always open. He's a friend, not a rival.

"You could never be Shadow the Hedgehog" IS A WICKED LINE, especially coming from a kid who's mom is literally your hero and mentor's Shadow(the Hedgehog)! Also unlike MK, this kid isn't running around with "motherless" behavior like a HOOLIGAN LMAO. Fr tho MK do you own no other clothing? You dress in the same thing every day, even train, work, and chill in the same outfit, like a damn cartoon character. 🙄

Wonder how he'll react when he finds out MK actually comes from a loving home with two dad's. Is free noodles actually married in this au? That'd be the Icing on the fucking cake. "Motherless² ass nerd" or more jealousy bc his dad's can't get their shit together.

I feel a potential child of divorce crash out stewing. "You already have your dad's. Why are you stealing mine!? Why are you ripping them apart more! Papa doesn't love us anymore, and it's all YOUR FAULT!(because if it's not, then we're not good enough- I'm just not good enough)"

Monkey in the middle ass kid

That last paragraph really did hit me like oh god what have I done to this poor kid😭

I was gonna say they can all have complicated dads who should be in a relationship but are not, but bro those last liners? They changed my mind real quick

Yes free noodles are married and happy, MK has a happy family

Now let’s have him watch this 13 year old crash out with the impending sense of guilt that he helped that happen

(Don’t mind me as I write down that dialogue,,, anon on what crack were you when you wrote that good job fr😭😭)

Can you imagine MK trying hard to convince this crying kid that his dad definitely, full heartedly loves him, that his dads may not be together but they’re not together because they’re dumbasses who everyone can tell love each other but are too stubborn to see it

And above everything this kid, this kid who keeps curling in on himself making him look even more smaller and vulnerable, IS GOOD ENOUGH, no matter what anyone thinks, he has always been enough and his worth is not dictated whether someone loves him or not, but just him being here and alive makes him enough.

I’m crying at the club gang

Also

I’m definitely using Motherless^2 ass nerd at some point😭

[dragonpyre]

Young Justice au where post canon, Ra's decides to finally just dump Jason in the pit for whatever reason and now he has a screaming teen/adult on his hands that he kind of didn't prepare himself to deal with it