#TAGGING THIS AS

[cannimochi]

finally my first finished drawing for parkcivi and its this fuck ass scene ISIGV

ik hes like standing on the chains in the actual scene but i think this lines up wiht the scarring people like to give him more also it looks cool >:)

[cygnus-is-tired]

I went to a flea market/antique shop today and I found, what I believe to be, the best worst thing ever in the history of instruments

Here she is in all her glory, the steampunk violin

She’s completely functional but does not come with a bow

[paracosmicka]

can yall watch them while i go smoke

[picmurasaki]

That OPMeg scene in S3 Earthspark tho.🥺💜

[lillaberry]

I do NOT have a daddy k*nk but for reasons this clip of Spencer Reid is saved on my phone

[neferirk-art]

My magnum opus. Very proud of it, to be honest. Also, lineart under "Keep reading" you should click that. You can even print the lineart out and colour it yourself. You have my permission.

Normally I go for very natural, logical shading but this time I decided to just. Follow the rule of cool. So bisexual lighting (on accident) it became.

Optic detail because this was actually the initial idea for this drawing.

And lineart because I normally don't do tidy lineart so you need to appreciate it.

[dubiousculturalartifact]

Not infrequently when a famous creative person gets exposed as a bigot, abuser, etc, there's the inevitable comments of 'can we all finally admit their work sucked?'

Which leads to immediate backlash, claiming that anyone saying this is a smug, sanctimonious asshole, disingenuously shitting on the incredible creative output of [Person X] in order to falsely claim a moral high ground, or make themselves feel better, or make some grand statement about how moral purity and creative talent are inseparable....

And sure, “[Person X] is an dickhead, ergo their work must suck” doesn't add a lot to the conversation, maybe. But I suspect that pretty often what’s actually being said there is something a lot closer to “Yes, they were famous and beloved, but not everyone may have loved their work, and claiming otherwise is giving their legacy more than its due, at the exact time when they deserve less praise, not more. Their work had flaws (whether merely aesthetic, or ones that pointed towards the same attitudes that fuelled their real life behaviour) that I never felt safe talking about due to their fame & the fandom/cult of personality around them. I’m frustrated by how they were shielded from ANY criticism, no matter how small, prior to this. Allow me to vent that for a second.”.

When we put creatives on such a pedestal that people will send death threats based on someone criticizing them on like, their writing of a specific character, or their grammar, or something… Exactly how safe an environment do you think that creates, for anyone who might need to speak up against them, about something more serious?

[rick-ety]

Drew them as those objectum caution signs… they’re my everything

Original references belong to @//beebfreeb!

@lyn-ne 🥱🥱🥱

[claracatwhisper]

Oh dear Octavia you deserve a better show

You deserve better writers than the ones who call you a cockblocker.You don’t deserve the hate the fanbase and writers give to you. You don’t deserve to villainized by the show or the fandom.

You deserve better in general

[per1w1nkl3]

when the trope is they might not be lovers in the traditional sense but they have and always will be there for each other, they come as a pair even when they are physically apart, they're always in each other's thoughts and they'd choose one another over any friend, partner or family member

[saintclarkegriffin]

romantic relationships: ❌

platonic relationships: ❌

relationships that constantly tip-toe the line between platonic and romantic without fully committing to one or the other: ✅✅✅

[mishantics]

Boy with(out) a fairy

[lafiametta]

I don’t care how unrealistic it is, I want Anora to get her trip to Disney World. Igor will go with her, of course, and buy her a pair of hot pink sequined mouse ears that she wears in every selfie she posts on Instagram. (Seriously, so many selfies in front of Cinderella’s castle.) She makes fun of the fact that he’s wearing fucking gopnik track pants the whole time, but to make up for it she’ll thread her fingers through his as they wait in line for the Haunted Mansion and whisper in his ear all the things they’ll do once they get back to the hotel room. At the nighttime fireworks show, she starts shivering a little in her tank top and short shorts, so he silently slips his hoodie over her shoulders and pulls her tight into his arms. Her cheek presses against his shoulder and she breathes in traces of cigarette smoke and his aftershave as the fireworks light up the sky, the moment like magic she wants to hold onto forever.

[attyrocious]

doffy has been a wip since august so yknow what lets make it a kinda diptych

[themeraldee]

Anywhere, you're mine

[Masterlist]

18+ Only | 2.3k | Homelander x female!Reader | Exhibitionism. Mild dub-con but tagging just in case. Frottage. Overstimulation. Messy mixed POV.

Written for cozy corner kinktober prompt #2: Exhibitionism

It’s not the first time Homelander takes you flying but it’s the first time he has you questioning his intentions. 

It doesn’t feel like the first few times he’s flown you up and around New York. That time he was just excited to share his most celebrated superpower with you. Gathering you in his arms, slowly flying over the skyline, showing you a view nobody else gets to see.

This time there’s a tension in his jaw you’re unfamiliar with. As if he’s biting back from saying something or doing something too early. He still flies at a slower speed, knowing your human body isn’t capable of handling the speeds he considers leisurely.

He still holds you in a bridal carry. A carry he’s particularly fond of as he gets to hold you close and tight and you have no choice but to wrap your arms around his neck, seeking his warmth and support. Just how he likes it.

He slowly lands on top of one of the Chrysler building gargoyles. Presenting a view that adorns many postcards. It’s the all-too-familiar skyline that you already get to see from the floor to ceiling windows of his penthouse, but now you’re right in the middle of it.

“We’re here?” You ask, still holding tight onto him, unwilling to stand on your own feet. Just the thought of being one wrong move away from your demise has your stomach rolling with anxiety.

“Yup. What, not impressed?” He chuckles, retracting his arms from underneath your legs.

“That’s not—Wait wait wait! I’m gonna fall.” Your heart drops when you no longer feel his steel grip around you and you’re forced to stand your feet on the structure underneath you.

For a second that to you feels an eternity long you’re barely breathing or moving, getting the sense that any odd breath will make you fall off.

Heights aren’t usually an issue when you fly with him but suddenly being responsible for your own survival feels a lot more nerve wracking.

“You’re not gonna fall.” He turns you around, your back flush against his chest, his steel grip back around you again as his arm wraps around your middle, grounding you in that secure hold.

“There ya go. Come on now, don’t worry. You seriously think I’d let you fall?”

“No! Of course not. There’s just not a lot of space here.” You let out a nervous chuckle. Your voice quivers just like your legs do when you look down. Your feet are only a few inches away from the edge and instead of admiring the view in front of you, you’re laser focused on keeping them as far away from the ledge as possible.

“Well you better keep close then. Wouldn’t want anything to happen.” And like the asshole he is he shakes you in your place with his arm still securely wrapped around you. That doesn’t mean it stops you from shrieking loud and shrill at the feeling of losing the security you were just thinking of getting comfortable with.

If you were anywhere else, you’d be swatting him across the chest for his cruel move but here your legs feel like jelly and your lower body feels like it’s gotten off a theme park ride. Your gut is in knots and you only feel it untangle itself when he’s comfortingly rubbing the bare skin of your arm up and down all while nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck.

With the warm summer day having just passed you’re still sporting the same dress Homelander gifted you, but with the drop in temperature in the late hours you already feel the goosebumps appear with each shiver. The cold leather just makes it worse as the goosebumps become more pronounced and you let out a full body shiver right against him. You would have changed if you had known about this impromptu night adventure but he scooped you up and set off into the night without as much as a word.

“It’s cold up here.” You look down at the bustling city still bursting with energy at this hour but little of its sound travels all the way up here.

“Hmm, don’t worry, I’m gonna warm you riiight up.” He rumbles right in your ear.

And before you question it he does. He unzips the side of your dress, leaving the zipper open where it ends by your hips. His gloved hand slides right in, getting a handful of your right breast. The shock of the cold leather on your skin is quickly replaced by the heat creeping up your body to the tips of your ears.

“Homelander! Wha-what the fuck?!”

“What’s the problem sweetheart? Look at that, you’re already warming up.” He hums and shoves his hand underneath the cup of your bra, moving it askew. The leather pinches around your nipple forcing a squeak out of you.

Just like that you feel like you’ve been put on display for the whole world to see. Your body may not be exposed but you doubt anyone wouldn’t be able to put two and two together and realise Homelander really just took you out here for some adult fun.

“P-people will see.” You say in a hushed whisper as if anyone could hear. All the potential onlookers are too far to see what’s going on yet you feel like you’re surrounded. The quiet hum of the city below suddenly feels overwhelmingly loud. Your eyes move back and forth between buildings, streets or windows as if your ordinary human eyes could make out anything but the lights dotting the skyline.

“Hmm, lucky them.” He sounds as smug as can be and you feel the tension he’s been carrying dissipate and if anything, transfer itself onto you. Your legs are shaking. Not from fear. Not from the chill in the air. The embarrassment has your body responding in ways you’re not used to.

“Ooor do you not think they'd be lucky to see you like this?” You feel his sharp grin against the soft skin of your neck as he’s messing with you. He’s nipping at it, kissing it sweetly, knowing exactly how to get you to melt into his embrace when he wants you to do things you’re reluctant to. He knows you’ll enjoy this. He’s doing it for you, really. With that he adds. "I know I feel pretty lucky."  

“We—ah—really shouldn’t be doing this.” You do your best to dissuade him from exposing you in public but he’s set on what he’s come here to do and you’re not one to easily say no to the man. 

“Babe, I can do whatever the fuck I want. We can do whatever the fuck we want.” He pulls his hand out from underneath your bra cup. Instead he pulls up the fabric of the back of your dress up, pinning the bunched up swell of it above your ass and in between both of your bodies.

Unable to resist he greedily squeezes your ass with the hand that’s not holding you stable, groaning into your neck. You feel his hot breath and the wet lick of his tongue when he draws a line from the base of your neck to your ear earning himself a delightful moan. It's those natural sounds you make that make him harder than anything else. When you squeak out your little whimpers and whines or when those pretty moans spill out freely from your lips it’s like you’re serenading him a song you wrote just for him. 

And fuck, he can’t wait any longer. 

His hand lands on the waistband of your underwear and he squeezes the dainty lace fabric in his fist. 

With a quick snap of his wrist he pulls at the fabric, ripping it off your body and throwing the tatters of it into the wind.

You yelp in shock, both of your hands landing on the arm he has wrapped around your middle as if clutching onto him for more support. You don’t try to catch the ruined panties when he throws them, caring for your life more than the embarrassment of some stranger stumbling across your ruined underwear once it lands somewhere in the city. 

It’s not that, neither it is the feeling of him rubbing up against you that makes you clutch your pearls. You usually only get to feel the hard shell of his suit anyway. No. It’s the familiar hiss of his zipper that beyond your comprehension invokes a pavlovian response in you, already wetting your cunt, rolling the heat from your gut straight to your throbbing clit. 

He can smell this change in you, inhaling deeply as if he finally got a breath of fresh air he’s been so desperate for.

“There’s my girl. I knew you’d enjoy this too.” You don’t have to turn around to know exactly what kind of pleased, self-assured face he’s pulling. You’ve seen it each time he’s introduced you to all the kinks of his you’ve ended up loving. Sometimes even more than him. It’s clear he’s hoping this to be another one.

You feel him pull out his cock, pushing it right against your ass. Albeit not new the feeling still makes you blush. Being out here, potential seen by anyone with a keen eye sends a strange thrill down your spine now that you’re not the only one who’s exposed.

While he’s got your mind occupied with the arousing feeling of his cock against your bare ass, he slips his hand down the front of your dress. He graciously keeps the front of you covered from too many prying eyes, though it’s not hard to tell what he’s doing when he squishes himself closer. His cock sitting warm and snug in between your cheeks, his head resting right on your shoulder and the hand he’s not holding you with is already toying with your clit in a way that has your knees buckle.

“Don’t stop, don’t ssstop.” You hiss with pleasure and for a moment you forget where you are and that the breeze comes from being 300 metres high in the air. The familiarity with which your body responds to him is comforting. You let yourself sing for him freely as he rubs your clit expertly, his teeth nipping at your ear when he’s not whispering how he wants you to cum for him. How he wants you to cum all while anyone can catch a glimpse of your unravelling. 

And with the precision of a man who’s spent many hours with his hand in between your legs he rubs you into an orgasm. The peak of it has your legs shaking to the point where he lifts you up a little, giving you the chance to really just relax into the way your body quivers and tingles from the mouth watering climax. 

And just when you think he’s happy and done after having debauched you for the whole world to see he puts you down, pulling his hand back, bending a little in the knees so he can slide his cock right in between your thighs.

The surprise of it strangely has you moving right against him rather than away. Your thoroughly soaked cunt finds its happy place right on top of his cock, coating the top of it with a generous amount of slick.

And just like you typically sing for Homelander, he has his own tune made just for you. He whines needily, not even trying to hold back as he pulls you closer. One hand on your hip, the other still securing you around your middle while he drags his hips back and forth, the wet slide of his cock deafeningly loud. 

His cock rubs the whole length of your cunt, the tip of it poking at the fabric of the front of your dress each time his hips are flush with yours.

The head of his cock catches on your clit with each slide, normally an incredibly pleasant and warm sensation but now it’s piercing hot as it stimulates your burning clit to lengths you’re not used to.

A whine breaks out past your lips in desperation.

“It’s too much, too much, p-uh-please, Homelander!” 

“Just a little longer, you can do it for me. Can’t you?” He sounds just as wrecked as you. His voice quivers, his thrusts stutter. You know he’s not gonna last long. A fact you’re partially grateful for as the force with which he douses your clit with furious friction is making you lose your mind.

You let out a little affirmative sound that resembles a sob and you let him use you how he seemed fit. The unrelenting pressure you can’t seem to escape is nothing you’ve ever been able to achieve yourself.

The novelty of it catches your body off guard and the burning feeling spreads all the way down your limbs as you orgasm on his cock, giving in to the intense sensation one more time. And while he can’t feel your cunt pulsating around his cock like he’s used to, he still feels you convulse and throb against him. 

Which is more than good enough for him to reach the finish line.

Once you collect your thoughts again you watch as he thrusts a few more times in between your thighs. His cockhead pushes against the fabric of the front of your dress each time, now wetting it with long dribbles of cum.

You watch as the fabric takes on a darker colour where it’s soaked in his cum. If you weren’t out of your mind with your own pleasure you might have reflected on the debauchery you just partook in but instead you blankly stare at the droplet of cum that lands on the surface you’re standing on. You’ve got half a mind to crouch and wipe it down with your already ruined dress but you don’t feel like tempting fate with a fall to your early death.

Surely the rain will get it. And at this point you couldn’t care less. All you want to do now is get flown back home and wrapped up in your hero's arms. 

And per usual, your hero is more than happy to oblige. Just like you’ll do anything for him, he does the same for you.

Taglist (you can add yourself to be tagged anytime I publish a new Homelander fic):

@infinetlyforgotten @rafecamsgirlll @nervoussystemss

@hom3landr @mrsdesade @nommingonfood