#Pandering is not a good look for you

[allycat75]

After all of this civic intrigue and its dedication to the Spirit of Service, I wondered what A Starting Point was sharing with the young people.

Nothing about Biden, the Supreme Court or Project 2025. But if you wanted to know about whether DC should be a state or information about the Olymics- in 2028 in Los Angeles, you were in luck!

This is what I imagine the ASP office looks like:

[gameringgungke]

edit 2: leak is FAKE everyone, go home

so of course i'm keeping up with the pokemon leaks and

I KNEW IT

I FUCKING KNEW IT

I SAID THE KANTO FAVORITISM STARTED BECAUSE OF BW'S BACKLASH AND WAS GOING TO MAJORLY STAGNANTETHE SERIES FOR YEARS AND NOBODY BELIEVED ME

update 113 notes later: might be fake, idk

[bishopony]

trusting audience reviews for media is a cardinal sin

[mx-paint]

.

[vimbry]

it's pretty interesting how marvin's defining characteristics in pop culture are the blowing up earth to see venus motivation and 'where's the kaboom' "catchphrase", both things that come from and occur only once in his very penultimate appearance of the golden age era. but in addition to that, are more associated with his initial green/red design, not the gold/green palette actually used for those final two shorts.

what Does also contain that green/red design is duck dodgers and the 24th 1/2 century, one of the two marvin shorts included in the bugs bunny/road runner compilation movie, which also named him and uses a new illustration with the "classic" palette, and I'm guessing that's what embedded those elements into newer generations' public perception and later marketing. I dunno I just think seeing what factors are picked up most by pop culture surrounding classic media is neat!!

[harpygon]

I‘m just thinking about german movies I actually like?? All quiet on the western front was good (but it won an oscar so that‘s no surprise), I liked the Felix Krull movie, …. I like thinking about the Bibi and Tina movies, but do I want to rewatch them?? (maybe listen to the music but not more). Systemsprenger was interesting and hard to watch and good i guess??

[andsheoverthinks]

as a black woman i need black women to stop freaking out and acting crazy every time a man says something nice about black women like it's a collective win. take off the goggles and kick that fucker off his undeserved pedestal. come on, we're better than this.

[twinklepuzzle]

I feel like there was another long thread going around a while back about how the current designs for trucks and SUVs (being taller and larger and having a flatter/more vertical front end rather than a sloped/pointed one) were more dangerous for pedestrians?

Like even aside from the mindset of the drivers. Even someone who was very mindful and was a good driver was more likely to kill a pedestrian, because the front end of the vehicles were at chest-to-head height. So if one hits you it's running directly into your very squishy and vital organs, as opposed to shorter vehicles, which are more likely to hit your legs (still causes injury, but it's more likely that they'll be survivable).

And the sloped fronts of most sedans (a word I'm using here as a catch-all for non-truck and non-SUV vehicles, for convenience) would allow the person to roll up and off of the vehicle, whereas the flat fronts of trucks and SUVs would push the person to the ground and/or under the vehicle, causing further injury.

And that's without taking into account how the design of trucks and SUV reduces the driver's visibility of the area immediately surrounding the vehicle and the actual pavement of the road (being higher up allows them to see over other cars, and therefore see more of the condition of the "road", here meaning traffic/ other cars, not the surface of the road itself).

I can't remember if it was real or just perception, but there's also the idea that the passengers and driver of a truck/SUV are safer in a collision than they would be in a sedan, which makes people want to buy them, especially with there being so many trucks and SUVs on the road. It's easy to look at and SUV and a sedan and think "if these two vehicles crashed, the sedan would be destroyed/the sedan would 'lose' and the SUV would 'win' the crash", so it feels like you're on more even footing with other drivers if you also get a tall car.

So trucks and SUVs become more popular due to the perception of personal safety (the safety of people outside your vehicle be damned), which leads to other people buying the tall cars to level the playing field, but it also leads to car manufacturers making more of the tall vehicles, and offering fewer sedans.

With fewer options for sedans, people are less likely to find one that they like, and more likely to look into SUVs. So even more people buy the bigger cars, and even less people buy the sedans, so car manus lean even harder into making more tall cars and fewer short cars.

It becomes a cycle, and the sedans are straight up disappearing.

And *that* isn't taking into account that, being larger and (often) having more features than sedans, manufacturers can charge more for an SUV/truck, so they make more profit if they sell more big cars. So there's even more of a financial incentive to produce more trucks/SUVs than sedans.

So even if you aren't one of the people with a "run the fuckers over" mindset, it's easier than ever to get a car that you're more likely to kill someone with (even in the case of a genuine accident), and harder to get a more reasonable and safer-for-the-public vehicle.

[seilon]

“group interview” occurred. not sure how it went really but I guess that tends to be how these things go

[yuri-is-online]

Why So Rude? (Or Yuu's BF Asks Crewel for their Hand in Marriage and What Happens Next Will Shock You)

For legal reasons, this is a joke. I have been dealing with a health issue of sorts (i am not dying so no worrying ok? just v annoyed) so writing longer stuff is escaping me at the moment, enjoy some crack while I take a breather. More can be found on my masterlist here.

NO (FLOYD, Rook, and Malleus)

Crewel has been in denial about this "relationship" since it started. Not that his disapproval is really going to stop Floyd, but Crewel 100% refers to him as "Yuu's ex boyfriend" much to the confusion of... everyone who hears that. They do find some common ground in their shared interest in fashion, but Crewel has never forgiven him for his behavior in his class OR his "stealing" Yuu's heart.

Rook on the other hand he didn't have too much of an issue with until he realized just how familiar he seemed to be with his home for someone who had supposedly only been there to visit you. The twenty page letter he wrote to confess his feelings to you didn't help either once he saw the few lines where Rook wrote about the beauty of your finger prints, but he knows his disapproval means very little to someone as obsessed with romance as Rook.

Malleus... is the King of a country genuinely hostile to humans and Crewel thinks he is a little too obsessed with Yuu for his own good. He is also not a fan of how condescending Malleus is towards his disapproval, but it's an issue that will be worked out eventually. They are fighting out of love for the same person, your safety and happiness is all they really care about at the end of the day.

No, but as a joke (Sebek and Jack)

I don't think he has anything against him really, he just wants to see how important tradition and the opinion of his elders actually is to him. When Sebek begins to plead his case because he does not wish to put a wedge between Yuu and their father figure, but cannot deny his feelings for Yuu Crewel's more than happy to "change his mind." He knows you will be happy and well looked after.

Jack is a solid partner, and he is a wolf beastman who speaks of Yuu as his soulmate, his one and only, his eternal life partner and- well. Crewel just can't resist a bit of teasing, he's always been so serious and easy to fluster about these sort of things. The sheepish look on his face when he realizes Crewel has been teasing him makes it very worth it.

I can't stop you can I... (Leona, Kalim, and Rollo)

While Crewel has faith that Leona has what it takes to save his home- he lives in the Sunset Savannah. That is really far away from the Queendom of Roses ( ; ω ; ) have some pity on your poor father he can't travel that far all the time it's bad for his skin. The pressures of being the partner of royalty is something he worries over, but a smug promise from Leona to protect you soothes his worries somewhat.

The flippant way Kalim talks about the assassination attempts is not the way Crewel wants to hear about attempts on your life or heaven forbid your death. Kalim is very sympathetic to this, he has no real argument against how ignorant he was in the past, but he isn't a child anymore. Just filled with a childlike love for the world and determination to make it better. It is hard to say no to that.

Rollo is too much like Trein. His request for your hand in marriage feels like something that the old man would cry tears of genuine joy over, so of course he hates it. Unfortunately he also knows how much this teen grandfather matters to you or whatever so the answer will be yes. At least he has an excuse to visit Fleur City more now.

Give me one good reason. (Azul, Jade, Idia, and Lilia)

Azul was such a good student that he should have zero complaints that you started dating. But he also isn't blind and dislikes being pandered to, which is very much what Azul is doing here. He does wonder briefly if this is a cultural thing and he is being insensitive, but he is still exasperated enough to not immediately say yes. The strange twinkle that comes to Azul's eyes at the prospect of negotiations makes him wish he had though.

Speaking of not being blind, what does the Leech family do and is it legal? Survey says probably yes, but Crewel remembers dealing with Jade's parents while he was in school and has no desire to feed his child to the shar- err eels. Jade immediately begins to sniffle, oh how could Crewel say such bad things about him? A poor innocent eel and blah blah blah. If Jade wasn't such a good partner he'd be cooked.

Crewel understands and appreciates the effort Idia has put in to his personal growth and he has no desire to shit on that... but S.T.Y.X. and the secrecy around it is no joke. He wants to continue having a relationship with Yuu and as soon as Idia reassures him of that he has no more objections.

Lilia is an old man, a war criminal, and a father. Of course Crewel has seen how he was able to live as a student while at NRC but his own credit as a father would be under fire if he didn't object mildly. Lilia has some fun with it and has a bit more respect for him for objecting. So long as the eventual answer is yes.

Yes (Riddle, Trey, Cater, Ruggie, Jamil, and Epel)

While Crewel does have some red flag concerns concerning Riddle's mother, he has no real objections to Riddle himself. He is a perfect gentlemen and the correct amount of nervous to be asking the question. He gets full marks, as if there would ever be any other outcome.

Trey is that sort of solid option that parents really love, but he also has that tight personal relationship with Crewel from his Science Club days. He lives in the Queendom and is tight with his own family there are few better places for Yuu to be.

While Cater isn't Crewel's favorite student, he doesn't hate him or the Shaftlands. He is also not entirely unconvinced that him asking is for a magicam trend but! He has no real major objections. He is more than ready to have two kids, as soon as Cater is willing to admit he could use a stable father figure.

I don't think that Ruggie would even suggest marrige unless he's obtained that stable, high paying job he so baldy wants and has moved his Granny out of the slums. It's the perfect time to ask for permission to propose, and while the Savannah is still super far away (r.i.p. Crewel's skin) he is much more supportive of the two of you and how far you've come.

Similarly to Ruggie, I don't think Jamil would propose to Yuu unless his personal issues with Kalim and his position with the Asim's had been sorted. He wants to actually travel on his honeymoon, and Crewel is very willing to suggest the Queendom of Roses. Jamil's ego is absolutely stroked by how Crewel had zero objections but your adoptive dad doesn't get to see how smug it makes him, Jamil saves the smirks for when you say yes.

I think that Crewel seems to like all of the first years, and Epel is no exception. Sure, his request starts out well put together and polite but devolves into a dialect that leaves Crewel with no idea of what he's saying, but he has a general idea. Of course Epel has his blessing, Harveston sounds like a lovely place for Yuu to live their life in Twisted Wonderland and Epel a perfect person to keep them safe and happy.

He already planned the wedding (Ace, Deuce, Silver and Vil)

I know what you're saying. Crewel approving of Ace? Of course he does! He was in his homeroom class, and Crewel has a soft spot for trouble makers from the Queendom, he was one after all! Sure he might have had some problems with him when you first started dating, but now, when he is deathly serious saying he wants to spend the rest of his life with you? Crewel has been waiting for this since he fist saw carrot head yanking your chain.

Deuce is a much easier sell, Crewel was always a bit harsh on his intelligence, but only because he ran a tight ship and wanted him to reach for the stars. Well he has, and he has you to support him through it, Crewel is so proud of both. He and Dilla have absolutely been hypothetically planning this for years.

While Silver's curse did not endear him to Crewel for his first two years of schooling, he really grew on him when you started going out. He's glad that you've found someone who loves you as much as Silver does, really he is. Unfortunately this means he has to plan a wedding with Lilia, something they both have been doing since you started going out and never talked about. Don't worry! They only intend to fight a lot little bit.

The instant you started dating Vil Crewel entered his mother of the bride era. The permission asking was less Vil wanting to be polite and more him coming up with a way to distract him and convince him to focus on designing the clothes. Thankfully it works and no one other than his dogs have to know just how insane the prospect of his two favorite students marrying made him.

[kalforhelp]

honestly? i think this is a good thing. it may have even been the goal. because i dont think this movie was made to be "good." it wasnt made to get awards. it wasn't made to make a bunch of snobby critics swoon.

it was made for us.

it was made for the fans.

it was made for scott.

it was made to explore the story in a new format, expand on the lore, and maybe give a little fright

they put in cameos that wouldn't turn the average person's head, but would make the fandom froth at the mouth

a lot of love went into this movie. not to make it a bestseller, but to appeal to the people who already love it, who already care a great deal about this world

fnaf already has a thriving fanbase, it's already gotten an insane amount of profit and recognition. it didn't need a movie. scott probably didnt need the money. he did this for us.

and i wouldn't have it any other way

It’s insane how out of touch movie critics are.

[lizzyiii]

Can I make a request? Homelander falling for a reader who is completely unaware of it. Not because he's good at hiding it but because, they genuinely can't fathom the thought of someone being that intense with their feelings about THEM of all people👀 but their the only person who's genuinely kind to him.

I'm sooooo sorry this took so long

Love and Devotion

pairing | homelander x supe!reader

word count | 5.8k words

summary | homelander becomes increasingly obsessed with the new kind and unsuspecting supe, and fixates on her as his perfect match, believing she belongs to him. his possessiveness reaches new heights after discovering intimate details about her powers, pushing him to claim her as his own, regardless of her obliviousness to his feelings.

tags | canon homelander??? obsession, possessiveness, season 4 timeline, major fluff, tell me if you think it ooc homelander, lactating kink

a/n | first homelander fic, this was sooooo fun to write and yes I did rewatch season 4 for this

likes, comments, reblogs are always appreciated ���

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

You were perfect from the moment he laid eyes on you.

"Her?"

Homelander’s voice dripped with disdain as he watched Firecracker spewing her rant about family values and patriotism, all while waving her hands around. She reminded him of a third-rate talk show host. He grimaced, turning to Sage.

"Yeah," Sage responded, standing at his side.

"Really?" he sneered, barely able to mask his disgust.

"Mhm," Sage hummed in affirmation.

"Seems like she fell off her Jet Ski one too many times," Homelander muttered, his lip curling.

Sage, unbothered by his sarcasm, simply shook her head. "No, now that Starlight’s back leading the Starlighters, we need someone like her."

Homelander raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Mm. And that’s gonna shut them up?" He knew exactly what "them" meant: the endless critics, social media commentators, all the noise that clawed at his mind.

"No," Sage replied, her voice low and cryptic. "She’s going to make them louder."

He shot her a look. "You gonna trust me or not?" she added before he could question it further.

Rolling his eyes, he turned his gaze elsewhere. He was growing tired of these briefings, the endless parade of new supes Vought was parading through. But then, his eyes landed on you.

You were surrounded by a group of eager reporters, microphones pushed into your face. Unlike Firecracker, who couldn't stop her loud, brash performance, you were different. You weren't reciting hollow slogans or pandering to anyone. You stood there with an almost serene composure, answering each question softly, with a gentle smile. There was something…sincere in the way you spoke, like you actually cared about the answers, not just the headlines they’d create.

"And what about her?" Homelander murmured, his gaze locked on you as if he were seeing something unexpected for the first time.

"The Pink Dahlia," Sage said, repeating your supe name as though it was obvious. "She’s going to be the new Starlight."

Homelander frowned, feeling a flicker of confusion. The new Starlight? That seemed impossible. No one could ever replace that bitch's popularity, her…adoring fanbase. But Sage seemed to sense his thoughts, elaborating with an almost bored tone.

"The only reason Starlight is liked is because of her sincerity. Her kindness," Sage explained, nodding towards you. "Pink Dahlia is going to be America’s next sweetheart supe."

Homelander hummed, though his mind was elsewhere, distracted by the sight of you. Sage was talking, but he was no longer listening. Instead, he watched as the cameras captured your every move. For a moment, you glanced in his direction. Not out of fear or awe, but with that same quiet softness you gave to everyone. It unnerved him how unaffected you seemed by his presence, by who he was.

He wanted to look away, but he couldn’t.

Sage dragged him into yet another pointless debate, but his attention was only half there. He knew she’d eventually let it go once she realized his disinterest, and sure enough, she did. He was quick to pass her along to the vultures—photographers desperate to get the next "supe girl" in their lenses.

As Homelander turned, his gaze landed on Ryan, sulking in one of the chairs at the back of the room. Frustration boiled inside him. He couldn’t stand seeing his son like that, so withdrawn, when the whole world was theirs.

But then, his brow furrowed. You had walked over, leaving the cameras behind. Quietly, you sat beside Ryan, the two of you almost invisible in the flurry of the room. He watched as you offered your hand to Ryan, a gentle smile on your face. His son, who had been lost in his own thoughts, blinked in surprise before hesitantly shaking your hand.

For the first time in hours, Homelander saw the tension leave Ryan’s shoulders. His usual sulk was replaced with something lighter. He listened to whatever you were saying, nodding slowly. Homelanders listened carefully to your sweet words, and watched how they were clearly having an effect on Ryan.

Interesting.

Homelander had too many fucking things going on for his mind to keep circling back to you. It irritated him, gnawed at him like an itch he couldn’t scratch.

First, the rage that boiled up every time he saw those goddamn Starlighter protests. He could hardly walk outside without hearing people chant for Starlight’s bullshit message, waving their signs, spewing their anti-Homelander garbage. It infuriated him. Then there was the constant frustration in dealing with Neuman. She was slippery, always too clever, too calm, and it made every negotiation with her feel like wading through quicksand.

But every time his temper cooled, his thoughts went back to you. You. That sweet, unassuming smile that you flashed so casually, like it wasn’t the most perfect thing he’d ever seen. And then there was your body—tight and perfect in that small pink and green suit, looking like you belonged on a magazine cover instead of here, in this hellhole with people like him.

It made him furious.

How could he let himself be distracted by you, when everything else around him was crumbling? He was supposed to be in control, but instead, he was falling apart. First he let that fucking loser Hughie get away. Then, Ryan—his own son—had the nerve to run off to see Butcher after everything Homelander had given him. After all the time and care he’d put into Ryan, after showing him the world, how was he still not good enough?

It made him sick.

And then... and then there was the other thing. His reflection. The part of him that never shut up, that always knew where to strike. His other self had looked at him and sneered. Told him he was weak, that he was a joke. That no matter how much power he had, no matter how feared he was, he was still nothing.

And maybe it was right. Maybe he was losing it.

So he decided to visit home. The lab. Where they had made him. Where he had been molded into the strongest supe to ever walk the earth. He’d slaughtered every single one of the scientists who had "raised" him. He stood in the sterile halls, the faint hum of the machines still active around him. The silence made him feel grounded, like this was the only place in the world where he could truly be himself.

But it wasn’t enough. Not anymore.

Not when the image of you—your smile, your soft gaze, your kindness—kept seeping into his mind. You were a weakness he couldn’t afford. And that filled him with even more rage.

And yet the moment he saw your face, all that rage he had been holding onto evaporated like steam. The blood, the anger, the frustration—it all seemed distant as he took in the worried expression on your face.

He had strolled back into Vought Tower like nothing was wrong, though his suit was still soaked in the blood and viscera of the scientists he’d butchered in the lab. It didn’t matter—he was Homelander, after all. No one would dare question him. But fate must have been laughing at him because, of all people, he ran straight into you.

You froze when you saw him, your eyes widening in pure shock at the sight of him covered in carnage. Anyone else would have been horrified, would have run or screamed, but not you. Instead, your lips parted and, with that same quiet softness he had come to expect, you said, “Would you like some help?”

Homelander just stared, his mind slowing to a crawl as the words sank in. He was a god, covered in the blood of men, and here you were, offering help. Something inside him shifted in that moment. He nodded, feeling strangely empty and vulnerable, like a child waiting for instructions. In the back of his mind, he realized this was the first time you had actually spoken to him directly.

His chest tightened as you stepped closer, your eyes flicking up to his with cautious concern. You reached out and gently placed your pink-gloved hand into his red, blood-stained one. Homelander nearly closed his eyes, focusing intently on the warmth of your touch. That warmth—it spread through him, melting away the sharp edges of his anger. No one touched him like that, without fear or calculation.

You led him silently into the elevator, your hand still in his, guiding him like he was something fragile. He couldn't help but glance down at your hand in his, his mind spinning as he tried to commit the sensation to memory. The touch wasn’t just physical—it felt like a lifeline, something pulling him out of the darkness he had been sinking into.

As the elevator doors slid shut, the quiet hum of the building surrounded them, and Homelander found himself focusing solely on you. You didn’t flinch. You didn’t recoil. You just held his hand, gently, as if leading him somewhere safe. He didn’t feel like a monster in that moment, not in your presence.

The elevator dinged softly, and you led him down the hall to your floor. The sight was unlike anything in Vought Tower—lush greenery, vibrant pinks and soft petals blooming everywhere. It felt alive, warm. This was your power after all, to bend nature to your will. And it was a reflection of you, full of life, soft but powerful. He was surprised it was even still Vought Tower.

He hadn’t expected you to bring him here. You could’ve taken him to his own floor, left him in one of the pristine, sterile bathrooms of his suite. But no—you’d brought him to your space, a sanctuary. It was so unlike the cold, artificial world of Vought. And so much like you.

Slowly, you guided him to the bathroom. The plants trailed along the walls, the air fragrant with the scent of blooming flowers. You looked up at him, blinking those wide, soft eyes of yours. A single word entered his mind: Fawn. You looked like a fawn, delicate and innocent, standing before something dangerous without any idea of what it could do to you.

“Do you want me to leave?” you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

He shook his head, unable to find the words to speak. Still entranced by you, he wondered how you could be so kind, so gentle, to someone like him. Anyone else would have left him to clean himself up in cold silence, but you…you stayed.

You nodded quietly, as if you understood, then turned to the bath, filling it with warm water. He watched you bite your lip in thought, and all he could think about was biting your lip himself. His gaze lingered on your mouth, and for a split second, he imagined pulling you close, feeling that softness against his own. But instead, he remained silent, his breath heavy as you carefully and gently began to undress him.

He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had touched him with such care. You didn’t fumble or stare, didn’t sneak a lustful glance as you removed his suit piece by piece. You were entirely respectful, your touch light, focused on the task. And when you led him to sink into the bath, your hands still guiding him, he realized that you weren’t treating him like Homelander. You weren’t treating him like a god. You were treating him like…a person.

The warm water surrounded him, washing away the blood and grime. But what made him feel truly clean was your touch. You knelt by the tub, peeling off your pink gloves, and began washing him with your bare hands. He could feel your skin against his, the warmth of your palms gliding over his body.

He had to fight to keep from shivering. The sensation of your skin on his—bare and vulnerable—sent a wave of euphoria through him. It was unlike anything he’d ever felt. This wasn’t lust. This was something deeper, something far more dangerous. He was intoxicated by you, not because of what you were doing, but because of who you were. The softness, the care, the genuine kindness…it was all so foreign to him.

And as you worked in silence, cleaning away the blood, he realized with a start that he never wanted this feeling to end.

Homelander couldn’t take his eyes off you as you washed him. Every gentle stroke of your hands sent a ripple of pleasure through him, and though his eyes begged to close, he refused. He needed to see you. To watch you, to take in every movement, every touch. Your fingers slid through his hair, and for a moment, he almost gave in—almost let his eyes flutter shut and just melt into the sensation. But his gaze stayed locked on you, intense and unyielding.

You could feel his stare, that much was clear, yet you didn’t say a word. You just kept working, silent and serene. And it started to bother him, gnawing at him. How could you be so quiet, so unaffected by his presence? He needed to hear your voice again. He craved it, like a drug, something to soothe the irritation building inside him.

“Talk to me,” he said, the words slipping out in a petulant tone he hadn’t meant to use. But he didn’t care. He wanted your attention, your words, your everything.

Your eyes met his, wide and curious, like you were studying him, trying to figure him out. You tilted your head, and once again, the thought struck him—fawn. That was what you reminded him of. A fawn, delicate and gentle, standing before a predator without realizing the danger.

You pursed your lips, thinking carefully about what to say, and for just a second, Homelander finally closed his eyes. He wanted to focus solely on your voice. Nothing else mattered. Just you.

“I named myself Pink Dahlia because my favorite color is pink,” you began, your sweet voice filling the room like music, “and dahlias symbolize love and devotion.”

His eyes snapped open.

Love and devotion. The words echoed in his mind like a gunshot, shattering every other thought. You kept talking, explaining something about flower meanings and other potential supe names you’d considered, but Homelander didn’t give a fuck about that. None of that mattered. All he could focus on was love and devotion.

It was a sign. It had to be. You were made for him. There was no other explanation. How could it be a coincidence that the one person who treated him with kindness, who looked at him without fear, had chosen a name that embodied exactly what he wanted from you? Exactly what he needed. Love and devotion.

His chest tightened with the realization, his mind spinning with the possibilities. You would love him. You would be devoted to him completely. It was inevitable. Fate had brought you into his life for a reason.

As you continued to speak, your voice soft and calming, he stared at you, consumed by the thought of it—how perfect it would be. You, by his side, loyal and loving, filling the void that no one else could. The world would bow before him, but you…you would worship him in the way he craved, in a way no one ever had.

You were starting to seriously piss him off. The way you acted, pretending like nothing had happened between you, like the connection between you wasn’t so strong it practically vibrated in the air. You carried on as if the two of you didn’t share something deeper, something unspoken but undeniable. It was infuriating.

Then again, if you had acknowledged it—if you’d brought it up and confronted him about it—he probably would’ve blown a fucking gasket. His control was fragile enough as it was.

But trying to talk to you? That was a whole other level of frustration. Every time you looked up at him with those soft, gentle eyes, and gave him that sweet, unassuming smile, all the words in his head vanished. Just gone. Like you had some kind of power over him that even he didn’t understand.

So, he did the only thing he could think of to get you closer—he forced The Deep to move, ordering him to sit somewhere else, so that you could sit right next to him. He wasn’t subtle about it, either. He didn’t care if anyone noticed. As long as you were close, that was all that mattered.

Then came the Vought V52 Expo, and Homelander could feel the agitation building inside him. He needed to talk to you, to make you see what was right in front of you, but the timing was never right. On the bright side, things were going well with Ryan. He was bonding with his son, teaching him to stand up for himself, to say no when he needed to. It felt…good, like he was finally getting through to him.

But by the time they got to the V52 Expo, the agitation had grown into something much sharper. His eyes tracked you across the stage, watching as you announced your new environmental awareness project—the Dahlia Project. Fans were cheering for you, screaming your name, and you looked so damn perfect up there.

You were smiling, waving to the crowd, talking passionately about your cause, and the noise of the crowd was deafening. But all Homelander could think about was how you hadn’t even looked at him once. Not a glance. Not a dedication. Nothing.

He watched you with cold, calculated eyes, trying to keep the growing frustration in check. You were good at this, at drawing people in, making them adore you. But how could you not see that you already had him? That no one else in the crowd mattered compared to him?

And as the fans continued to cheer, his grip tightened around the milkshake he’d bought for you. He needed to speak to you. To make you understand. And the longer you went on, the more he realized—this wasn’t just about getting closer to you anymore. It was about making sure you knew that you belonged to him.

Homelander was standing with Ryan, guiding him through yet another lesson in asserting control. Ryan had been eager to "help" people, to really understand what that meant. So, when Homelander saw an opportunity, he called over Adam—the Vought employee who had been making his assistant visibly uncomfortable with inappropriate advances.

Ryan’s eyes narrowed skeptically, his young face twisting in uncertainty as he looked at the assistant. “Um… is he making you uncomfortable? You can tell me. You won’t get in trouble.”

The assistant bit her lip nervously before nodding, her voice hesitant but honest. “Kind of… yeah.”

Homelander raised an eyebrow, turning his attention to Ryan. “Ryan, what do you think we should do about that?”

Ryan hesitated, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. He still hadn’t fully grasped the power he held, and Homelander could sense his uncertainty, the hesitation that made his own patience wear thin. With a sigh, he glanced away—only for his eyes to land on you, walking past with that usual air of calm about you.

“Dahlia,” he called, his voice a little sharper than he intended. “Come over here.”

You looked up at him, eyebrows raised in that sweet, expectant way that only made him more agitated, and walked over without hesitation, your eyes scanning the scene as you assessed the situation.

“What’s up?” you asked simply.

Homelander smiled, the kind of smile that didn’t reach his eyes, and gestured to Adam. “Adam here has been making some inappropriate advances toward his assistant. What do you have to say about that?”

Even Ryan turned to you, waiting for your response. Homelander watched you closely, studying the way you furrowed your brows in genuine concern as you looked at Adam.

“I think,” you said carefully, “that there’s no excuse for making someone else uncomfortable. And it’s even worse when you know you’re doing it.”

Homelander’s smile widened at your answer. It was perfect—clear, direct, and moral, just like he expected from you. There was a subtle pride in the way you spoke, and it fed into his own sense of approval. You were playing right into his hands without even realizing it.

Your words seemed to be the push Ryan needed, as he turned to Adam, his voice gaining confidence. “Apologize,” Ryan commanded, the hint of authority in his tone surprising even himself. When Adam hesitated, Ryan’s jaw tightened. “Now.”

Adam stated an obviously insincere apology, and Ryan, growing bolder by the second, looked at the assistant. “I want you to slap him.”

Homelander’s gaze snapped to you, watching intently for your reaction. You didn’t flinch. Instead, you seemed to consider the situation with a quiet thoughtfulness, your expression showing no sign of discomfort. You didn’t object or look shocked—in fact, there was a hint of agreement in the way you nodded lightly. You understood the need to make a point, to assert control.

Homelander couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride. Not just in Ryan, but in you. The way you navigated the situation with clarity, how you stood by his side and reinforced his lessons without even realizing it—it only confirmed what he already knew.

You belonged with him.

The moment his resolve truly snapped was at Tek Knight’s party. Everything had already spiraled out of control. A-Train and Firecracker were nowhere to be found, MIA at a critical time. And when it was time for the big speech to the GOP donors, Sage was acting as if she’d had a fucking lobotomy, leaving Homelander to take over.

The minute he started speaking, they questioned him. Him. They criticized him as if he wasn’t the most powerful man in the room, as if he wasn’t Homelander. His hand twitched, and he was one second away from lasering through every single one of those smug, entitled bastards. But then Neuman stepped in, pulling the conversation back on track and rallying the support he was seconds from obliterating.

He stalked away, seething. And that’s when he saw it—him—one of the donor’s sons talking to you. But it wasn’t just talking. He recognized the look in that guy’s eyes, the casual leaning in, the way his hand brushed against your arm like it was nothing.

Homelander’s chest tightened with a slow, burning jealousy, the kind that clawed at him from the inside. His grip on the glass tightened, but for the moment, he held himself in check. Barely. When that loser touched your arm, though, that’s when it snapped. His entire facade shattered.

In his mind, that small touch was a violation. You belonged to him. Whether you knew it yet or not, it was already decided. And this idiot was crossing a line no one should ever have the nerve to approach.

His reaction started subtly—at first. His smile stiffened, his eyes narrowed with an icy focus. He moved toward you with the kind of charm that made people believe he was still in control, but inside, he was already a storm waiting to break.

Homelander slid smoothly between you and the man, a calculated smile plastered on his friendly. “Everything alright here?” His voice was polite, but there was an edge, a tension simmering just beneath the surface.

You blinked up at him, surprised but unsuspecting, nodding lightly. “Yeah, of course. This is Jason Wilson, the District Attorney’s son. We’re just talking.”

Just talking. Homelander’s smile grew tighter. Logically, he knew that. But logic had no place here. The jealousy gnawed at him, irrational, violent, and all-consuming. Without hesitation, he slipped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer in a way that left no room for doubt. “We wouldn’t want things to get inappropriate, now would we?”

Jason froze, his eyes widening slightly, clearly unnerved by the sudden shift. Homelander’s stare bore into him, a silent warning not to take another step, not to even breathe in your direction. Jason stammered an awkward excuse and quickly retreated, leaving you and Homelander alone.

You frowned up at him, clearly confused by the sudden shift in his mood. “What was that about?”

Homelander didn’t answer right away. Instead, his grip on your waist tightened, enough that you’d feel the strength behind it—enough that you couldn’t pull away easily. He quietly steered you toward a more secluded corner of the room, away from prying eyes. His voice dropped to a low, dangerous tone, his lips close to your ear. “You shouldn’t let people touch you like that,” he said, barely keeping his rage in check. “Not when you’re with me.”

You blinked, utterly confused, your brows knitting together in that way he both adored and despised. “I don’t understand. I’m not… with you.”

His jaw clenched. The words stung, hitting him harder than any physical blow could. You didn’t understand yet. You didn’t see what he saw, didn’t feel what he felt. But you would. You had to.

Homelander let out a hollow chuckle, raising his hands in mock surrender. “You don’t understand. It’s fine, I’ll forgive you for that.” His tone dripped with condescension as if he were talking to a child. He then pointed between the two of you, his expression hardening. “You and me—we belong together. Which makes you mine.”

You stared at him, completely lost, your mouth opening and closing like a fish gasping for air. The confusion in your eyes only seemed to amuse him further. You were so oblivious, so innocent, and it both frustrated and thrilled him. Finally, you managed to speak, your voice soft and uncertain. “I thought you were interested in Firecracker.”

Homelander’s face scrunched up in pure disgust, his lip curling as if you had just said something vile. “What? No. Ew. No.”

“Oh,” you mumbled, looking around as if there were hidden cameras capturing this bizarre moment, half-expecting this to be some kind of elaborate joke. “Oh.”

Then you turned back to him, your wide eyes filled with genuine surprise, lips pouting slightly as you asked, “You… like me?”

The way you said it—so innocent, so utterly unaware—made his chest tighten. Like wasn’t even close to what he felt for you. He needed you. You were everything he’d been waiting for, the one pure thing in a world full of filth and betrayal. But the fact that you couldn’t even comprehend why someone like him would be interested in you… It only made his obsession stronger.

He smiled, soft and almost tender, his previous irritation and jealousy melting away in the face of your cluelessness. “Like doesn’t even begin to cover it,” he murmured, his voice lower now, dripping with an intensity that sent a shiver through the air. He stepped closer, his gaze locking onto yours with an unsettling focus. “You’re perfect. You’re everything.”

He reached out, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear, the gesture intimate but laced with possessiveness. “You just don’t see it yet. But you will.”

You blinked up at him, still dazed, still confused, your mind struggling to process what was happening. But in his mind, it was already decided. You were his—had been from the moment he laid eyes on you. And soon enough, you’d understand that too.

Homelander cupped your face as though you were the most delicate thing in existence, his touch surprisingly gentle for someone capable of such monstrous strength. His heart raced as he leaned in, finally close enough to taste the softness of your lips—something he’d craved for what felt like an eternity. He could already imagine how perfect you’d feel, how right it would be.

But before his lips could meet yours, your hand quickly covered his mouth. "Wait," you said, eyes wide with sudden embarrassment.

His eyes snapped open, irritation flashing in them, his impatience barely concealed. "What?" he grunted, his voice muffled by your hand.

You hesitated, biting your lip nervously, avoiding his intense gaze as you finally explained, “My lips… they’re poisonous.”

His brows furrowed in confusion, and you removed your hand, looking even more embarrassed. “They contain a toxin,” you said softly, as if confessing a dark secret. “It gives anyone who kisses me a high, raises their heart rate until they get a heart attack… and die.”

A heavy silence followed as you waited for his reaction, expecting rejection or disgust. But Homelander’s eyes gleamed with something entirely different. Instead of pulling away, he just shrugged as if the danger you posed was trivial to him. "Fuck it," he muttered with a smirk, his hands tightening around your cheeks.

Before you could protest again, he pulled you into a kiss, his lips crashing against yours with a hunger that bordered on madness.

The moment your lips met, Homelander let out a low, primal groan of pleasure. The sensation of your mouth against his was everything he’d imagined—and more. He could feel the toxin you had warned him about seeping into his bloodstream, but instead of fear, it only fueled the euphoria rushing through him. His tongue forced its way into your mouth, deepening the kiss, his desire consuming every rational thought.

The high from your poison made him feel invincible, like every dark, twisted part of him was being set free. The world outside—its chaos, its disappointments, its endless betrayals—faded into nothing. All that mattered was you. He felt light, weightless, as though he could fly to the edge of the universe with you in his arms.

And as the toxin worked its way through his system, the sensation of bliss became all-consuming. He didn’t just want to kiss you—he wanted to devour you, to possess you completely, body and soul. Every kiss, every taste of you, made the thought of losing you unbearable.

He deepened the kiss, his grip on your face tightening, every muscle in his body screaming with pleasure. He didn’t care about the risk, didn’t care that you could kill him. In that moment, he belonged to you, utterly and completely, and he’d die a thousand deaths for this feeling. The darkness inside him surged, but for once, it didn’t feel like a curse. With you, it felt like freedom.

Homelander had never been high in his entire existence, but if this was what it felt like—well, it was fucking spectacular. Every nerve in his body buzzed with euphoria, his muscles relaxed in a way that felt almost foreign to him, and everything around him suddenly seemed amusing, even absurd. He laughed—really laughed—as he flew the two of you back to Vought Tower, the wind whipping through his hair as if the world itself couldn’t touch him.

When he landed on your balcony, a wide grin stretched across his face, a rare glint of pure joy in his eyes. You looked up at him, bemused, as he stumbled slightly, his usually poised demeanor replaced with a boyish charm. He couldn’t stop smiling. “How long does this last?” he asked, his voice light with the toxin’s effects.

You chuckled softly as you led him inside, your touch warm and steady while his hands wandered over you, unable to keep still. “Max? Maybe two hours before the average human dies,” you murmured with a teasing smile.

He let out a breathless laugh, his hand still brushing against your waist, intoxicated not just by the toxin but by you. “How many people have you done this to?” he asked, voice low as he buried his nose in the curve of your neck, inhaling your scent deeply. It was almost possessive, his need to absorb every part of you.

You leaned back slightly, a soft sigh escaping your lips. “Two… high school boyfriends.”

Homelander’s hands slid over your body, but then something caught his eye—a small jar on the kitchen island. His gaze sharpened instantly, curiosity piqued. “What’s that?” he asked, tone suddenly playful but underlined with a dangerous edge as his fingers drifted toward the jar.

He could feel the tension in your body before he even turned to face you fully, sensing the shift in the air. His smile twisted into something more predatory as he turned to you, eyes glinting with amusement and a hint of menace. “Look here,” he started, his voice low and smooth, “since we’re now officially together—”

��Officially?” you murmured, your eyes slightly hazy from his intoxicating presence, a dreamy smile playing on your lips.

He scrunched his nose in a mock expression of annoyance. “Yeah, officially. And there’s one thing you should know about me—I hate secrets. Can’t fucking stand 'em.”

You flushed, your face heating with embarrassment as you shifted on your feet, clearly reluctant to answer. “It’s… nipple cream,” you mumbled.

Homelander raised an eyebrow, his expression uncharacteristically patient, though the intensity in his eyes never wavered. “I can see that,” he said, his voice slow, almost mocking. He leaned closer, a smirk tugging at his lips. “But why do you need it?”

You hesitated, then looked away shyly before finally answering, “I lactate.”

For the first time in a long time, pure shock crossed Homelander’s face. His smile faded, replaced by an unreadable expression as your words sank in. Lactate? He couldn’t process it at first, the information almost short-circuiting his mind. “What?” he asked, his voice lower now, the question almost a growl.

You swallowed, explaining softly, “Just like how some plants and fruits produce milk… ever since I got my first cycle, I’ve been producing milk too.”

Homelander’s throat went dry, his eyes dropping instinctively to your breasts as his thoughts spun wildly. “Only during your cycle?” he asked, voice barely a whisper.

“No,” you admitted, your voice softer still. “Every single day since I got my cycle.”

A long pause hung in the air between you, the weight of your revelation settling in. Homelander’s heart pounded, and for a moment, the effects of the toxin couldn’t compare to the sheer awe and hunger he felt. His gaze drifted back up to meet yours, and something primal flickered in his eyes.

“Oh,” he murmured, a slow smile creeping back onto his face, but this time, it wasn’t just euphoria driving it. No, this—this was something deeper.

Somehow, impossibly, you had just become even more perfect in his eyes.

Reader's Aesthetic

(only her supe name is Pink Dahlia)

Hope you enjoyed!

[moyazaika]

squeaky clean; yandere. non/dub-con. heavily implied nsfw. mdni.

“i’m sorry– m’sorry, please! swear i won’t–!” your thighs ache, pressed painfully against the edge of the bathtub, held in place by cold, firm hands that refuse to relent, despite your very best efforts. “i won’t do it again. promise.”

“oh, yeah?” you feel the tug of his lips; a cruel smile against your bare shoulders, which shake with sobs that wrack your whole body. he can feel them, you know he can. he’s got your back pressed right up against his chest; he just doesn’t care. “how sorry are you, baby?”

“very very sorry, i swear!” with wide teary eyes, you turn to face the apathetic man behind you. he only looks down at you levelly, appraisal in those eyes, crinkled with amusement despite the facsimile of a loving, if not remorseful, boyfriend’s expression on his features–when he is anything but. 

not loving. not remorseful. and certainly, if the way he keeps you all locked up and confined to the halls of his home serves as any indication of how little your opinion of his unwanted, unrequited affection matters; not your boyfriend.

and yet, you bend over backwards in an attempt to keep him satisfied. how unfortunate it is that all your efforts were undone by a single moment of carelessness; the cathartic release of a convoluted, complicated rage; hard work and pandering and pliant disposition rendered void by a few stupid tumbling past your lips before you could stop to just fucking think.

but you don’t voice any of that to him. it’s not what he would want or care to hear. “i didn’t mean to–to be so rude. please, please, please don’t make me do this…”

a noncommittal hum; “you can do better than that, surely.”

“i’ll never do it again–promise, promise i won’t.” your pleas inevitably fall on deaf ears, breathy voice echoing within the vast, bleak bathroom you’ve ended up in; awaiting the punishment your captor intends to dole out, begging in a lovely little futile attempt for a compassion that the both of you know he does not possess. “i didn’t mean to, i swear! m’so sorry, i’ll be good from now on. i-i love you. i love you.”

lithe fingers dig into your jaw almost painfully, as he kisses his teeth in mock sympathy. “oh, baby. you poor thing, i know you're sorry.”

hope, unfurling in your chest as you allow yourself to let out a relieved sob, mercy—

“but it’s just no good now, is it?” 

you freeze, rooted to the spot. your heart physically drops; a weight that sits low in your belly, alongside the fear of how he’s going to make you pay for your mistake.

“should’ve thoughta that before ‘ya called me ‘psychopathic bastard' you wish would 'do the world a favour by dying.'” he recites your words gleefully, a light and playful tone that contrats his far more forceful hand, as he angles your face forward; the hand that was at the back of your thighs reaching out, muscles taut, you realise–terrified all over again, with restraint. “but no matter. we can fix that.”

you shake your head, curl away from the soap; and right back up against his hard chest. “please don’t”

“hush now, sweet thing. i’ll show you what happens next time you run your little mouth like that later. first,” he reaches for the silky pink bar of soap that rests on the bath caddy, and you hear the sound of mellifluous laughter, low in the back of his throat. “let’s wash that dirty mouth of yours out with some soap.”

“i’m sorry.” it’s a pathetic, useless apology that carries no weight. you know it as much as he does, and yet, you're still a mess of nerves before him, "i love you."

“you weren’t so sorry and sweet when you told me to go ‘suck a dick.’” he grins cruelly. “now how ‘bout you quit whining and get some of these suds in your mouth, so you can think twice next time ‘bout tellin’ me what to put in mine.”

and you've always been good; so why should this time be any different?

it's the oddest thing, though; even after the mortifying ordeal, the overwhelming aftertaste of the soap doesn't make you feel cleaner, so much as it makes you feel dirtier than before.

even more so than when he will place something far less sweeter against your lips hours later, repeating your own words back to you whilst you look up at him helplessly through long lashes, weighed down by your tears.

"'ts not there to stare at, baby. you wanna prove just how sorry you are?" he runs a hand through your hair when you only nod in response; words failing you, mouth squeaky-clean. "good. you've already shown me what a dirty mouth you have today..."

"now," he mockingly taps the side of your face with a single finger, looking down at you a pleased little smile that has lingered on his lips since his fingers were in your mouth, hours ago, forcing the bar of soap onto your tongue. "let's see you put it to work."

[princessbrunette]

if u ever got mad at rafe he'd def leave ur pussy sore asfk and make it up to you by giving you his card i'm so in love w him

because he’s an assholeeeee and i love himmmm 😔

he’d had enough of you stomping after him all day in your little kitten heels with your voice all whiney and face all screwed up, so of course you end up with your knees pinned beside your head, his cock bruising your cervix. “that what you needed? shit. can’t do right by you, huh? gotta take time outta my busy schedule to pander to you.” he hisses, strings of arousal connecting everytime he pulls back to thrust back in. he’s got a busy day ahead of him, and letting you tag along had already made his morning hell. he had to make sure you were out for the count for the day, so that later when he gets up to more dangerous activities you’d be waiting back at the house for him like a good little girlfriend and not getting in the way.

he looks so good, knelt above you, shirt tucked beneath his chin, abs flexing as he thrusts his hips up against you. you whine, reaching to stroke down the sculpted muscle of his stomach. “just needed you, daddy.” you whimper pornographically. you were certain topper, who was told to wait only in the next room whilst rafe, as he puts it, “handles you.” could hear everything but you didn’t care in the moment.

he takes your wrist and pins it to the bed, floppy hair a little stuck to his forehead and pink in the cheeks. “so fuckin’ take it then.” he pants.

when you’re all done— that’s when he gets soft, panting into your neck after making a mess between both of your releases. he presses a long sloppy kiss to your jaw before squishing your cheeks with his fingers and turning your face towards him. “have fun? yeah?” he asks breathlessly, but gently this time — like he’s actually checking in on you.

“mhm.” you hum sleepily, staring at his lips before he plants a wet one on yours, and then dots some more around your cheeks.

“mm. good.” he slaps your ass affectionately before slowly sitting up and stretching. “gonna be a good girl today and let me handle business?” he gets up and stretches his arms, flexing his back until something clicks. you pout, nodding anyway — the blankets a mess around your ankles and skirt still bunched at your waist. he nods in approval, lips parted in thought as he digs around in his khaki pocket, pulling out a sleek black card.

he walks around the bed, placing it on the bedside table next to you. “take this n’do what you want today.” you sit up against the headboard a little and he then bends at the waist, large hand cupping your cheek and pressing his slightly clammy forehead to yours briefly. “sorry. ‘kay?” you know he means for the way he spoke to you earlier. rafe doesn’t move until you nod and give him a small smile before he plants a kiss to your forehead.

he walks out the room not sparing you another glance, running a hand through his slightly roused hair. down the hall slightly you hear him pull his zipper back up, a muffled “top, the fuck are you? i’m ready to go.” sounding.

[chrolloluvr]

Plsplspls do Adam and Mammon with a reader who behaves like a lovesick puppy and is always battling her eyelashes at them and gets all flustered when they flirt plsss 🙏🏻

Adam and Mammon w/ S/O who is lovestruck with them.

Note: I LOVE RJIS IDEA!!! ALSO WITH MY TWO FAVORITE MEN BY VIVZIE LIKE HELLO??

Female!Reader

Warnings: Touching, not proofread, but other than that nothing rlly!

Mammon 🕷️:

He would use this to his advantage. If he wants something from you, he had you wrapped around his fingers.

"Hey babe, yeah, so I need something from ya. You'll do this for me right? Aw, your such'a good girl."

He is so aware that his speech and accent give such a feeling to you. He finds you adorable.

But other than the obvious exploitation, he thinks its cute. Obviously, millions of other girls in Hell feel the same way as you, but he chose you.

But other than that, he loathes in the attention and innocent looks you give him.

He will physically flirt with you. He likes to ruffle your hair, play with your cheeks (both ass and face), ,and his favorite, forcing you to look up at him. He knows his affect on you is dangerously crazy, so he uses that to his advantage.

You feel butterflies in your stomach whenever you're around him, and his loud, obnoxious self. You love how dainty and feminine he makes you feel. You are like his princess, and he is your king. (technically that is true lol)

Because he isn't a traditional man per say, but he has a traditional view on women.

He will mentally flirt with you. He gives you a certain look:

He only does this when he wants to get you weak in the knees for him. Because he knows it works.

He will always tease you. He gets into your head like no other. When you are with him, it feels like no other man matters, it always circles back to him.

He loves the fact that you are obedient and behaved. He loathes in it. He thinks of you like a cute little puppy (that makes him no money whatsoever, but oh well.).

Verbally flirts with you. Well not necessarily always flirting, but thats what it feels like to you. Here are some things he will say to you:

"Hey babe, c'mere and sit on my lap, hurry up, we dont got all day!"

"Well don't you just look sweet, yeah? Are you tryin' to impress me or somethin'?"

"Cutie, go fetch daddy his wallet, yeah? Good girl, you deserve a little treat later, huh? You'd like that, would'nt ya'?"

Adam 🕊️:

Always brags about it. When talking to Lute or something, he will be like:

"Oh yeah fore sure. but y'know, y/n can just do that for me or whatever. Shes just like that."

He likes that you are obedient, but sometimes it crept him out, at least in the beginning. You were willing to do almost anything for him. He liked the premise, but it make him weary how much control he had over you.

But now? He uses it against you. He will have you do things for him, like paperwork, helping him clean himself, dressing him, kissing him on the cheek, etc.

He cant get enough of how you pamper him.

Praises you. He will call you a good girl, say your his princess, etc. In a way, they way him and Mammon praise you is very similar. The only difference, is that Adam is more reserved when it comes to praise in public, while Mammon is shameless. This is because he cares about his image in Heaven, and cant do too much under watchful eye.

Also gives you a face:

This man has such a devious grin, especially when he gets his way with you.

He does this face when he wants to rile you up. He knows he will too, since you are very compliant towards him, since he basically treats you like you two are married.

Also verbally flirts.

"Hey wifey- you look different today... did you do your hair or something? Looks hot."

"Hey babe can you do a favor for me and fetch me some water? Your the best babe, god."

"Aww you get embarrassed when your hubby pokes fun at you? Your such a snowflake babe, a cute little snowflake."

Touches you. He likes to tease your shy, pandering nature. So he likes to blow on your ear, come up behind you and pick you up, or just the occasional slap on the ass.

He loves how shy and embarrassed you become, so he will definitely enjoy continuing his antics.

[retroaria]

Oliver Aiku NSFW Alphabet ∘°∘♡∘°∘

summary: NSFW alphabet headcanons for the sexiest man that’s ever walked this earth

warnings: NSFW (MINORS DO NOT INTERACT) FEM!reader, I skipped some letters bc I got lazy mb yall, dom/sub play, choking, hair pulling, spitting, mentions of hitting, oral (m+f receiving), light voyerism, handcuffs, use of mommy/daddy, unprotected sex

BLUE LOCK M.LIST | enjoy my little freaks 🤍- aria

ꨄ︎ A is for Aftercare

Oliver does very simple aftercare. He’ll always run a shower for himself afterwards and invite (beg) you to join (potential round 2 if you say yes). Depending on the time of day/overall vibe afterwards he’ll always ask if you’re hungry or if you just wanna go to sleep. He’s not pandering to you in the aftermath but he’s definitely acknowledging that it’s now time to relax and just enjoy each other’s company. Just wants to make sure you’re comfy!!

ꨄ︎ B is for Body Part

Contrary to popular belief, Oliver isn’t full of himself, he’s just a confident man! He knows he’s attractive. his favorite part of himself is probably his arms/shoulders or his torso. He keeps up with his physique and puts a lot of work in for his sport of course and he likes looking a certain way for himself and the ladies. Oliver is 100% an ass man. He’s always resting his hand on it or on your lower back. As much as he loves looking at your pretty face when he fucks you he’s just a sucker for gripping you from behind watching is cock sink in and out of you.

ꨄ︎ C is for Cum

Oliver isn’t too into the concept of his own cum unless it’s inside of you. Doesn’t like cumming on your face bc how could he defile such an adorable fucked out face. He’d much rather watch it fill up your mouth and throat (slowly dripping out the corner of your mouth) Cumming on your stomach feels blasphemous to him bc why would he do the extra step when he could’ve just fucked all of it inside you??? Nonetheless he’s a respectful boy and will pull out if you ask him. Loves when you cum first and he can see it coating his cock around the base (even better if it’s his cum combined with yours after multiple rounds) (would make you suck it off after).

ꨄ︎ D is for Dirty Secret

Not really a secret but Oliver likes to record himself fucking you whenever he can to save for his own personal collection. He of course can and will always get off to watching you touch yourself or photos of you in cute lingerie, but nothing beats watching you get fucked by him. It’s like he can remember the feeling when he watches the videos, every sound you make reminding him of the corresponding grip of your tight cunt around him, how good you felt as he fucked you through every orgasm. He gets off on the fact that he did that to you and you let him.

ꨄ︎ E is for Experience

Before you and Oli started seeing each other he had his fair share of other partners. Truthfully, he’s a bit of a man whore. What can I say he loves to fuck and, now that he can, he especially loves to fuck you. the both of you have shown to be rather appreciative of his past experience bc now all those well learned skills get to be used on making you absolutely weak for him.

ꨄ︎ F is for Favorite Position

It’s either your legs thrown over his shoulders as he locks his lusty eyes with yours, gripping your thighs and ruining that pretty pussy, OR he’s ramming into you from behind, death grip on your hips, smoothing his hands over your ass, planting a soft slap every so often, pulling you up by your hair so he can turn your head and see your pleading eyes begging him not to stop.

ꨄ︎ H is for Hair

He keeps himself trimmed, close to the skin, overall very well groomed. Doesn’t like when it grows out and gets too thick. Would 1000% not give a fuck if you’re shaven or not. Bald or full bush, pussy is still pussy and he’s gonna love it every time. He’s really into the little heart thing that some girls do, thinks it’s hot asf. Would actually prefer some sign of hair over completely hairless bc he likes women and women have hair lol. A simple man truly.

ꨄ︎ I is for Intimacy

As much as he loves using you like a fuck toy he’s a sucker for long foreplay sessions, classic missionary, medium pace, constant eye contact, deep kisses, all that. He likes knowing that no matter how he fucks you he can still ruin you. Wants to savor you whenever he can, even if he’s being rough, he likes to take his time with you and make his top priority to have you flushed in absolute pleasure.

ꨄ︎ J is for Jack Off

As mentioned previously, he loves jerking off to you. He spends an unfortunate amount of time away for games and training but he relishes in the peace of being able to go back to his hotel room and remember how good you felt wrapped around him.

ꨄ︎ K is for Kinks

Not the MOST kinky boy out there but he’s into basic dom/sub stuff. He is almost always the dominant one but he can’t deny the few times he’s let you ride him with your hands around his throat still cross his mind when he’s yearning for you. thinks calling you mommy is hot but you calling him daddy is even hotter. Likes choking, hair pulling, biting, and spitting on the giving or receiving end. keeps an open mind in the bedroom and likes doing whatever you think will get you off the most. Would let you even go as far as to handcuff or blind fold him, it gets him all excited. Wants to be a vessel that can consistently bring you pleasure in whatever form you need it.

ꨄ︎ L is for Location

In most spaces he’s probably already thought about how he could get away with fucking you there (horny bastard). Won’t ever push you to do it anywhere you aren’t comfortable but will go absolutely feral if you told him you needed him right then and there. You don’t even have to think about anything he’s already got you up against the wall in some closet he scoped out or bent over a bathroom sink. doesn’t care if it’s at someone else’s house or someone else’s bed even. Really likes fucking you in the car (enclosed space = more sweat = more pants and moans from you that make him want to cum on the spot)

ꨄ︎ M is for Motivation

His sex drive is unstoppable, he doesn’t even need motivation. If you wanna fuck he has no other choice what else is a boy to do?? He’s got a lot of different turn-on’s but at the top of that list is any piece of clothing/outfit that makes your pussy easily accessible. He loves tearing your clothes completely off but the idea of simply having to lift your dress and pull your panties to the side in one fell swoop before he gets to fuck you makes him feel like he can really have you whenever he wants.

ꨄ︎ N is for No

As said before he keeps an open mind but he’s still not a super kinky guy and he’s got some big no-no’s. Sorry for all my bratty boy tamers in the chat but Oliver would not let you peg him. The thought actually scares him a bit. not into any crazy bondage that wouldn’t allow you to tug on his hair, scratch up his back, or wrap your legs around him. Handcuffs are hot but that’s about it. He also doesn’t like to hit you at all unless it’s to slap your ass. Even if you asked him to bc you wanted it he would say no, it just wouldn’t feel right for him.

ꨄ︎ O is for Oral

Loves going down on you but can’t go for super long bc it gets him way too worked up. Always makes you taste yourself after he pulls his fingers out of you or he’ll come back up from between your thighs and push his tongue into your mouth while it’s coated in your wetness. Unless it’s a quickie, sex isn’t complete unless he’s sucked on your clit at some point. Will literally never deny a blowjob from you or any chance to fuck your pretty face. He’s also not above asking you for them, although it’s never really the first thing he wants to do with you. Likes having you do it after he’s fucked you. Goes nuts if you offer to suck him off in public.

ꨄ︎ P is for Pace

He likes to pay attention to your reactions during sex and base his pace and thrusts off of that. Whatever is bringing you closer to the brink is the way he wants to go. But sometimes he wants it his way and can’t help but fuck you hard and slow or fast and sloppy, depends on how he’s feeling.

ꨄ︎ Q is for Quickie

Oliver loves quickies. As a human being with free will he uses his right to fuck you whenever and wherever. If you happen to finish getting ready with an outfit on that he thinks would look better on the floor, it’s over. Likes to make it a challenge sometimes to see how fast he can make you come. Enjoys the thrill of fucking you before someone else is supposed to show up to where ever you are. “Stop it Oli your team will be back in here in ten minutes!” “I could make you cum at least twice before then, just relax baby”

ꨄ︎ R is for Risk

As stated in Q and L, he gets off on knowing he’s got you in a bad situation while making you feel so good. The embarrassment riddled across your face and the way you try desperately to quiet your staggered moans and whimpers drives him crazy. He’s got an effect on you that proves to be almost uncontrollable and he loves to watch you struggle.

ꨄ︎ S is for Stamina

Oliver’s stamina is very dependent on what his day consisted of. No matter what his want to be inside you will always prevail over any tiredness he may feel, but no promises he’ll stick out for long. At peak energy, 3-4 hours is his max, if he’s tired from practice or other work stuff, you’re lucky if you get 30 minutes but he’s still gonna have you a moaning mess in that short amount of time. (3 minutes with this man is all I need tbh let me in the ring)

ꨄ︎ T is for Toys

Oliver definitely has some toys but I imagine them just being for you. Like he’s got a few vibrators, definitely a pair of handcuffs, I don’t see him as the kind of guy to own a dildo. “My dick is already free use for you why do you need another one???” He has a fleshlight but doesn’t use it anymore bc it just doesn’t feel like you.

ꨄ︎ U is for Unfair

Oli is a tease. When he’s really into his dominant role in the bedroom he makes it his mission to drag you out as long as he can. He wants you seeing stars, blabbering nonsense, drooling his name, begging him for some sort of release. On the flip side he’s also a beast and wants to see you on the verge of tears after your 8th orgasm that night. He’s either overstimulating you or treating you like a little brat.

ꨄ︎ V is for Volume

AHHHH ok this man moans. Hear me out! He would honestly cry if he fucked you and you didn’t make a single sound and he imagines that you would feel the same way too so he really doesn’t hold back when it comes to moaning, groaning, even whimpering, whatever sound you’ve drawn out of him, he wants you to hear it. When you come around his cock and your pussy clenches down on him through your waves of pleasure he really loses it. No words could be said by him during this time just incomplete breaths and strangled moans. Don’t even get me started on when you suck him off. (He loves sounding dirty for you)

ꨄ︎ X is for X-Ray

Oliver is definitely above average in terms of length. He’s standing at about 8.5 inches, 9 on a good day. His cock isn’t too girthy but it’s proportional to his length. He curves slightly upwards and his veins are rather prominent.

ꨄ︎ Y is for Yearning

Oliver is always yearning for you sexually and emotionally when he’s away and he can’t be with you. Even if he isn’t away and you’re just busy doing work or something he is so bothersome to have around bc he constantly wants to be touching you (running his hand up your skirt) or kissing you (all over your body).

ꨄ︎ Z is for Zzz

Sex doesn’t wear him out too much. One of his favorite parts about fucking you is actually the part where you guys are done and you’re laying side by side holding each other talking until you both fall asleep. He loves the sound of your tired voice as you tell him about your day and the intimacy of the skin on skin contact. He holds you like a little baby kitten, with gentle caressing, smoothing his hand down your sides or along your back, carding his fingers through your hair or resting his hand on your face rubbing his thumb on your cheek (which very heavily contrasts the way he was digging his fingers into your hips as he fucked the life out of you just minutes ago)

My god what a trip. This is actually my first time writing anything NSFW ever!!!! So sorry if it’s kinda ass :( either way I needed to write something to fill the oliver aiku shaped hole in my heart. Love you guys, stay safe :)