#a very lovely fic đ„°đ„°đ„°đ„°
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He makes himself lighter as he mounts Hob, letting his legs rest on either side of him, barely sitting on Hob's slightly propped-up legs. From here, he enjoys the view, taking his sweet time studying Hob's face.
On AO3: Haunt Me in My Sleep (tumblr) by @staroftheendless
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cw: consensual somno
#dreamling#hob gadling#dream of the endless#the sandman#abyssalcryptidart#nsft#staroftheendless#a very lovely fic đ„°đ„°đ„°đ„°
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let me see you stripped down to the boneâŠ
- stripped by depeche mode
congratulations! youâve been hired as homelanderâs entire glam squad! what an opportunity! now letâs try real hard not to let the fumes get to you, okay?
pairing : homelander/afab reader
word count : 5.6k
warnings : homelander in and of himself, toxic workplace environment, something akin to stockholm syndrome, fingering, smut. 18+, mdni
special thanks to @blindmagdalena @sehtoast @homeb0ys and @clockworkzeppelin for letting me scream at you about this!
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Homelander is an asshole.
That doesnât bother you much. Youâve dealt with plenty in this field, which means youâve learned how to make life easier for all parties. That particular learning curve includes when to stand out and blend in, at times concurrently depending on what variety of asshole they happen to be.
As a whole, the makeup artists and hairstylists at Vought take care of The Seven and go where theyâre needed. And as a cosmetologist, you were hired to provide both services for Homelander and Homelander only, which you consider to be one of the most prestigious stamps one could add to their professional passport.
Before you became official, you were colorfully threatened by a Ms. Ashley Barrett, who, after the fact, had no qualms throwing you into the lionâs den to figure your own shit out.
In no uncertain terms were you told that if you fucked any part of this up, your sparkling resume would look best as something to sit her smooth, bare ass on while getting fucked on top of her desk. No lube or protection. It would then be tossed exactly like her salad.
Not an image you could have ever predicted crossing your mind. Honestly, you should have stopped her right there and walked your happy little ass out of her office toward pastures that might have not been greener (you were being handsomely compensated), but certainly not as toxic. While the red flags were a color you couldnât quite ignore, you were also curious about why they stood out so much more than they did regarding previous employers.
None of this is to say you live under a rock. Anyone who has access to the internet is ambushed daily by these Supesâ personal lives. Homelanderâs track record as far as choice in partners went hadnât been ideal, so you understand that made him less popular at the time. That of course has nothing to do with you or your capabilities.
You opt to wear gray-colored glasses, seeing everything with a neutral blend of black and white. As much as possible anyway.
Nevertheless, curiosity killed the cat. But hopefully not your career.
The first day was awkward to say the least. Immediately, you knew you werenât going to like your coworkers.
Glints of sympathy changed how they perceived you. A target, whether they intended for this to happen or not, was nailed to your forehead, and it made them buzz around you like avid, greedy wasps keen on seeing how rapidly the honeybee will be brutalized. You didnât much care for going cross-eyed while staring at that target whenever you crossed paths. They didnât know you, yet because of who you were working under, deemed you helpless. They didnât give you a chance to establish yourself before branding you a victim.
Why should you respect them?
Small talk wasnât entertained either, as their judgment tarnished any future encounters. They ostracized you once you showed no interest in engaging with them. That didnât disappoint you. You werenât here to make friends.
You do wonder how those before you fared: if they were jaded when they arrived or if they couldnât help but succumb to the pressures of being at the top rung of a very unstable albeit sought after ladder.
Ms. Barrett quickly introduced you to Homelander, her parting gift before leaving the two of you alone.
You werenât completely nervous in his presence. He wasnât any different to you than the other celebrities youâd worked on, except he could rip you in half like a piece of paper if he was so inclined. But heâs the hero of this countryâs story, so really, you should have nothing to worry about.
His demeanor, you noted, suggested arrogance, annoyance, and boredom. All things youâre used to. So you offered your hand to shake, which he eyed with a slightly upturned nose before grabbing, told him it was a pleasure to meet him and got straight to business.
Looking back, he was clearly expecting more out of you. Maybe not a display as excessive as getting on your knees and professing your undying love, but close enough. Somewhere in the middle, perhaps.
Part of you believes he might have also counted on fear. To you, heâs not anything or anyone unknown. Another big name in a fancy suit with impossible demands.
You were given a routine to follow and products to use. You did as you were instructed and found the process to be simple and, as Homelanderâs expression revealed, uninspiring.
While you were utilizing a face brush to apply powder, he must have decided he was done enduring your lack of enthusiasm, because he suddenly asked, âWhat are you wearing?â
You stopped for a split second, no longer than, and continued. âThe name of my clothing designer, you mean?â
He scoffed, waving his gloved hand at you, almost knocking the applicator you held to the ground. âNo, your perfume. What are the top notes?â
You laughed and that seemed to confuse him. âWhy, you want a bottle?â
âI donât like it.â He sniffed sharply and cleared his throat. âSmells like you should be on the corner selling your used body parts.â
Ding ding ding. Alarm bells and red flags galore. You enjoy a challenge, however, and are a bit of a masochist, so you persevere.
âWell, what doesnât smell like a cheap hooker to you? Iâll start wearing that instead.â
He cocked a brow, studying you. Trying to figure out if you were being serious or mocking him.
âItâs your first day.â A warning. âAre you on your best behavior, or can you do better?â He leaned forward in his chair, forcing you backward. âYou should be working harder to prove yourself. Prove your worth.â He sat back again and shrugged. âOr maybe you really are worth as much as that dumpster juice you doused yourself in.â
At this point, he more than likely envisioned your happy little ass getting offended and storming out of the room. Breaking down, sobbing. Questioning why he was being so rude. One of those or, better yet, a nifty combination.
Youâve heard worse, unfortunately for him. Not always directed at you, but that doesnât matter. You can handle it.
âYouâre absolutely right,â you stated calmly, folding your arms across your chest. He looked at you with pretentious, petulant intrigue. âIt is my first day, and I want to make a good impression. Which is why Iâm asking you what you would like me to wear so I can continue to keep that good impression intact and, as our professional relationship develops, stay on top of it.â
Homelanderâs mouth twitched. He sighed deeply and slouched in his seat, staring at the wall to the left of him. Then he deigned to cast his gaze back at you, resting his cheek on his index and middle finger. He tapped the arm rest with his other hand.
âUgh, fine. Whatever.â A pause followed that lasted longer than necessary. Were you meant to guess? âJust wear something, I dunno, less. If you would have done your homework like a good little peon, youâd know I have super senses. Highly developed. Can you even imagine what that entails?â
Finally, he freed the canvas you were nearly finished with, and you flicked the soft bristles across the bridge of his nose. You smiled, more to yourself than him.
Felt rather on the nose, as the saying goes.
He didnât comment on your grin. You didnât give him time to. But he did huff like you were being obtuse on purpose.
âI can try. And my imagination is giving me some less-than-ideal scenarios,â you replied. Another pause. At least he was letting you do your job again.
You donât know what compelled you to keep going, but something about his lack of a real answer made you carry on. âDo you have a favorite flower or baked good? Maybe a spice?â
Homelander almost glared up at you. You say almost because, for whatever reason, it didnât seem like he was directing that harshness at you, though former words and actions proved otherwise. Something inside, perhaps. Or outside of this enclosed space.
âI already told you what to wear. Donât make me repeat myself.â
You took the hint and remained quiet the rest of your session. Soon, you were done.
As you were packing and tidying up your station, he took it upon himself to stand behind you. He lingered over your shoulder, watching the scene play out like he was director and star and you were barely an ant on the sidewalk he acknowledged before squashing.
The heat radiating off of him was impossible to dismiss, a wall of it barricading your backside. He clasped his fingers underneath his cape and inched closer. You thought he was as close to you as he could get without touching you. He was that warm.
When you glanced up, he was staring at you through the mirror. As absurd as it was, you managed to get chills. Goosebumps broke the surface of your skin.
âFresh chocolate chip cookies. Straight out of the oven. Like mom used to make.â He flashed an unnerving smile before turning to exit.
From there on out, even after you bent to his will and found a gourmand scent that matched what he described, Homelander tested you. Your work ethic, clothing choice, eating habits, and most of all, patience.
Your parents would ask how you were liking your job, how it was working alongside the Supes- not to mention the most famous of all- and youâd lie through your teeth. You felt you had no choice, Ashleyâs threat ringing in your ears.
Resume, bare ass, tossed salad...
Oh yeah, itâs going great! Theyâre all super flexible. I couldnât be happier!
At least that pun made you feel a little better about hiding the shame of what youâve allowed yourself to take on.
This was all in the first few weeks. It started to get a little easier after that, which is surprising considering more was added to your to-do list.
You should have moved on before starting. But, for whatever asinine reason, you didnât.
Every time you go back to your apartment and assess your appearance in the bathroom mirror, you wonder whoâs making who up here. Heâs changing your looks more than you are his. Youâre like his human doll.
Youâve put up with a lot over the years, but this takes the cake and shoves it in your face. As fucked as it is, the flavor is growing on you. Like a fungus. Growing, nonetheless.
You canât stop thinking about him.
Itâs innocent enough, you try convincing yourself. Making sure you have the right outfit laid out the night before, the right lunch (no onions or fish or anything âfreakyâ!), etc. He is your superior, after all. You shouldnât be viewing him in any other light.
Heâs the most frustrating aspect of your existence these days, but heâs also the one youâre around the most. His penchant for workplace gossip and how unintentionally funny he is tends to make him palatable, which has regrettably become an understatement.
Months go by. Youâve witnessed how alone he truly is. How he has nothing outside of performing his tricks on Voughtâs all-encompassing stage. And when he begins asking for your input, starts doing things for you that are so blatant itâs perplexing, you find your stress and vexation melting into cumbersome fascination.
Itâs embarrassing. You donât have the courtesy of enough time to dwell on your feelings toward the situation either, from beginning to whatever end you might be met with. You suppose that could be beneficial in the long run.
It also hits you when you least expect it; when you really donât want it to.
Your body doesnât wait until you finally have a moment alone. It decides, while youâre helping Homelander with his skincare routine that he insisted upon because you know more than these vacuous corporate douche-bags, to heat up without warning and slither from your head to your heart until it grasps you unfairly between your legs.
You try not to step into momentary paralysis. You understand to what extent his powers reach. Itâs not like he doesnât go on and on about them. About himself.
Whatever he notices, itâs not right away. A palpable tension fills the air between the two of you eventually. But it takes a more significant amount of time than you would have anticipated to permeate the natural flow of things.
Fuck, you canât even be safe inside here, where your thoughts, whatever they may be, are yours. You canât even have yourself. He has every part of you, and you are willingly relinquishing that control.
Your evening, once you can have it, consists of combing over every decision youâve made leading up to this strange, disorienting space you find yourself occupying. All it does is leave you exasperated in a much different way than before and with an unsettling observation (or hallucination):
Was that the tail end of the American flag outside your window?
You are unacceptably late.
Rushing around, you throw on the first top and bottoms you see from your closet and spritz some perfume on your neck and wrists. You donât check your phone. Youâre afraid of what will pop up on your screen. And, frankly, you donât have the time.
Your only option for transportation is the subway, as youâre sure the special vehicle from Vought is long gone. Why would they wait for someone like you, even if youâre practically Homelanderâs personal assistant? One of his only friends. You doubt he has more than Black Noir, and that isnât as perfect as it appears to the casual viewer.
You dread what kind of explosion youâre without a doubt walking into once you show your miserable ass up. Youâre going to smell like everyone on this train. Heâs going to go ballistic.
The question remains: why are you continuing to put yourself through this? Itâs not your circus, yet somehow, the monkeys have become your liability.
You know, deep down, what keeps you going back. Itâs simply too ridiculous to admit aloud.
Making your way past security, hurriedly presenting your badge, you realize you forgot to brush your teeth, or at the very least, gargle some mouthwash. You thank your lucky stars when you open your purse to a pack of gum tucked away in one of the compartments.
It will have to do.
When you open the door to Homelanderâs dressing room, you see a couple of employees standing near the counter where the bag of supplies has been opened and rifled through, looking like they might soil themselves, a frantic Ashley, and an extremely pissed off Homelander in the middle of it all.
Reflexively, you cringe. You attempt to wipe any trace from your features, but itâs too late. Ashley is glaring daggers at you and Homelander can hardly bring himself to look in your direction. The others donât matter to you. They never did.
âIâm so sorry Iâm late. I know thereâs no excuse-â
âYouâre goddamned right, thereâs no excuse! I donât give a shit if god and his whole fucking choir of angels came down from heaven and divinely called you to give them a makeover! What were you thinking?!â
Youâre about to answer, though you comprehend her query is more or less rhetorical. She interrupts your slightly open mouth while gesturing wildly, proving your point.
âOh, thatâs right! You werenât thinking at all, were you?! But I do believe youâve thought long and hard about whatâs at stake here. And you know damn well we at Vought donât tolerate this kind of sloppy behavior. Not to mention the way youâre dressed! Itâs adding insult to injury!â Her hand swipes at the air, the length of your outfit, and you glance down, recognizing how comically mismatched you are. Her correct observation affects you more than it would have months prior, stinging your ego- one of the many things thatâs been shelved in order to accommodate the person who wonât even grace you with a glance.
A dramatic groan cuts short any further commentary from the redhead, perpetually stretched thin between her absurd duties.
âJesus Christ, Ashley, why are your big fucking horse gums still flapping?â Homelanderâs booming voice slices through your mind like a jarring, dense migraine. He pinches his brow between middle finger and thumb, eyes closed. âI want you and Tweedledee and Tweedledum tâget the fuck out. Now.â
Ashley is plainly dumbfounded, struggling to see where she went wrong (a pattern when it comes to dealing with the volatile leader of The Seven), mouth agape. She shakes her head. âBut sir, are you-?â
âYou donât know what the fuck youâre talking about or doing. Clearly.â
Ms. Barrett turns a shade paler, staring at Homelander and blinking owlishly before snapping herself out of her stupor. She hurries her lackeys out of the room, shooing them along like a pair of misbehaving toddlers. She doesnât give a final look, no further warning. She merely shuts the door behind her.
You also hear it lock.
What the hell does she think is going to happen?
You should have stopped this while you had the chance. You should have never taken this job. You should have stood up for yourself and walked out. You should have you should have you should-
âWho the fuck do you think you are?â
His caustic tone sends shivers down your spine. Itâs unlike anything youâve heard come out of him. And youâve heard enough.
Again, you open your mouth. It fills with blood, thick and metallic and more potent than the mint from your gum. Youâre silenced by it.
He stalks toward you and grabs you hastily by the shoulders, swiveling you around so youâre face-to-face with the choices youâve made. Your mirrored image is reflected back at you, exhausted and searching for any last shred of who you might be beneath his heavy palms.
âLook at yourself! Do you even recognize whoâs staring back at you?â No.
âWhat kind of game are you playing, hmmm? Is this⊠humiliating spectacle youâre putting on for the money? Your pathetic career? Like itâs goddamned rocket science to pick up a can of hairspray and use it. Monkeys have hands.â He makes a noise thatâs akin to a snorting horse, exhaling forcefully past his nostrils. âI mean, did you really think you could pull a fast one on me?â He clutches your jaw, squeezing it between middle and thumb. Every muscle in your body tenses, your heart picking up rhythm.
âSpit that fucking gum out. Donât think I canât hear you grinding it between your molars like a dumb animal. You arenât a mama bird, are you? Yâdonât have cute little baby birds tâforce-feed your regurgitated leftovers, do you? Eugh, gross.â
You take a deep breath and exhale through your nose. It presents you with a false sense of security. You do as youâre told, and it lands on the floor in front of your shoe, saliva dangling on a thread as withered as your sanity.
Suddenly fresh breath seems like the most insignificant issue, when Homelander himself once made it out to be something earth-shattering.
Youâre such a fool.
He leans in and sniffs your throat. Your fingers lengthen and bend.
Youâre so many things at once. Confused, angry, nervous, scared. And, to your dismay, warm. God youâre so fucking warm. Heâs heating you up from the inside out. You clench your jaw, still held in place by a firm bind.
âGet rid of those ugly clothes. I donât care what you have to do. I canât stand the sight or smell of them.â
You shut your eyes. When you open them, all you see is red. The other emotions are smothered in favor of that brand of heat. What happens next is a blur. You temporarily leave yourself.
âFine. Have it your way, Homelander. You always do.â
Breaking free of his fluctuating hold, you start tearing at what youâre wearing, tossing everything- including your bra and underwear- to the ground. Your shirt winds up with the gum sticking to its loose fabric. You even take your shoes and socks off, not paying any heed to where your belongings go. Just that theyâre gone.
You donât process the glaring fact that you made yourself naked in front of your boss. In front of the most powerful man this country, and possibly world, has known. You donât care that things have escalated this far. That they shouldnât have. They shouldnât have. But guess what? They did. And these are the consequences you both have to deal with.
âYou wanna know what game Iâm playing?â You turn around, forcing him backward. âItâs funny, I thought youâd be able to answer that for me, considering all the hoops Iâve had to jump through to not only save my ass, but make sure you had someone to talk to at the end of the day! Who on your team can you say goes above and beyond like that for you?!â He blinks at you now, eyes wide. Features fall to the floor where your clothes reside. You have his full and undivided attention.
An impressively dangerous thing to have.
âWhat more do you want from me, Homelander? I practically live with you without any of the benefits that usually includes! Youâre really going to stand here and berate me like I havenât given you fucking everything youâve ever asked me for? Because I made one mistake? I gave up my entire world, which I know doesnât mean shit to you. But it does to me.â
You fold your arms over your chest. Nothing covers it. You have to know before you lose all dignity. So you ask once more, hoping it wonât get lost in this bizarre mess.
âWhat do you want from me?â
Nothing. He canât stop staring at you. You arenât aware enough to be ashamed, but you are aware enough to be upset.
His infuriating silence compels you to bend down and gather what was a barrier between the two of you. You are no longer needed if he canât do what he does best, which is spout off, leaking bottled words everywhere like a broken faucet. Itâs a pretty simple question, you think.
Thatâs when the glass behind you shatters.
You flinch, pause what youâre doing and slowly stand. Cautious in whatever your next approach will be.
Surveying the aftermath, youâre relieved to find that youâre far enough away from the mirror so no injuries were inflicted.
When you finally lock eyes with the source, you see red. The atmosphere surrounding you heaves like the distended belly of a rotting corpse; hisses like an overflowing tea kettle; pierces you like lightning.
Homelanderâs expression is rigid. His jaw quivers. Irises are a bright, shining scarlet. If you try anything rash, you might be next. But, having been around him for so long, youâre more inclined to believe heâs having trouble processing his own emotions. And that might have been one of the only ways to release them.
You drop the top and pants you managed to reclaim. Your brain hasnât fully recovered from the constant devastating hit itâs taken, so you donât want to put a name to whatâs pushing you forward. You donât stop until youâre directly in his line of vision.
Swallowing, you carefully extend your hand. The ruby color begins to crumble and give way to the vast ocean you might have drowned in one too many times. You lost track, blocking what you could out. Too real and intimate to accept for a realm that thrives off of inauthenticity and misfortune.
Homelander inhales harshly and you retreat, pupils hooking themselves to his. Searching for any sign you shouldnât be right where you are.
Of course there are several; unfortunately, you are currently blind to them. Blind to everything but him.
Thatâs how itâs been for awhile, hasnât it?
He has a habit of not granting you the luxury of time.
Quickly, he snatches your wrist and brings your palm flat against his cheek. He exhales, eyelids fluttering, nuzzling into you.
Itâs so simple, yet it disarms you in ways you arenât accustomed to.
Homelander basks in this chaste display of affection, and so do you, in awe of how enraptured he appears. Soaking you inside of his pores.
In turn, your cognizance reappears. You nearly topple over, realization infiltrating every part of you.
Youâre not wearing a stitch.
A knock at the door startles you both. You glance over in that general direction and hear from the other side, âYouâre on in fifteen, Homelander, sir!â
Gazing back up at him, you witness that same fire expand at a rapid rate. You use your other hand to bring him back down to reality, to ground him. It rests against his chest, delving into and cracking his ribs, flaying him open.
What strikes you is how vigorously his heart is beating. How you can feel it through his uniform.
This is how much you affect him. (Can you fathom that youâre only privy to a fraction?) Having evidence of the tiniest reciprocation drains you of any unwanted discomfort.
His fury subsides. You breathe out. He does, too.
âGo sit in your chair. I came here to do my job, after all.â The tenderness with which you speak seems to ease him further, his shoulders deflating with each word.
That aside, youâre playing with a lit match. Youâre unsure whoâs going to set who ablaze, but youâre willing to go down with this entire building to find out.
He does as heâs told, watching you the whole way like a mutilated mixture of a snarling cornered animal and a man fervently in love. He almost trips into his seat, not an ounce of grace in his gait.
Sacrificing his entire image just to get a glimpse of you.
Whipping his cape to the side, he sinks into the cushion. You get things ready as you typically do, your movements a bit jittery from the adrenaline sending haphazard jolts to your limbs. Despite this, youâre focused. You are more focused than you remember ever being.
You work efficiently, keeping in mind the limit thatâs been put on your time.
Homelander bores holes through you. He doesnât need lasers for that. Youâre exposed and vulnerable and he pries what he fostered apart until itâs distinguishable by no one else but him.
You relearn his perfectly manufactured features. Different lights shape shadows you either havenât seen before or feigned ignorance of. You commit to memory how he looks, smells, feels, the side of your hand grazing his cheek and hanging on.
Heâs invigorating, your excitement building to a crescendo you canât neglect. The heat in your core disperses, most of it congregating low in your belly and behind your expanding rib cage. His pupils drink you in, urgently and violently.
Your arousal is heady. He licks his lips. A hint of a whine caresses your ears and it makes you dizzy.
How could you have ever denied yourself?
You decide to take further control, testing the waters to a greater extent.
Itâs your turn to watch him the whole way down. You straddle him, easing yourself atop his taut thighs.
After a few moments of humoring yourself, of pretending to concentrate on your work, dusting his nose with powder, you straighten. Eye contact has not been severed.
You motion toward his hands, balled into tense, repressed fists at his sides.
âTake off your gloves.â
Initially, it feels like maybe you said the wrong thing, or said it the wrong way. He doesnât budge. Youâre patient, however, so you wait like youâve always done, the warmth from your cunt mingling with the hardness beneath you. Your mouth waters.
At last, Homelander nods and removes his gloves, tugging on the index of each. He places them on the armrests and transfixes himself to you once more.
âDo you want to touch me?â you ask, voice and body staying impossibly still in spite of your nerves.
Immediately, he shakes his head, âYes,â the first time heâs spoken since your outburst, and without hesitation, reaches for your chest. You close your eyes, falling into his snooping lifts and tugs and squeezes, giving yourself permission to become possessed by the inhibited imaginations of how selfish, how rapacious his touches might be. How smooth his bare hands are, how ardent each digit is.
Leaning into you, he sucks one nipple into his mouth and palms the other, moaning and vibrating against your flesh. He digs his fingers into the pliant softness of your hip, steadying you with disciplined pressure. You squirm, attuned to every minuscule shift.
The lit match is tilted toward you now, swift and stunning. Your fingers release the brush youâve been holding. It aligns with the slit of the cushion, forgotten and purposeless.
You wrap your digits around the hand on your curves and guide him toward your throbbing center. He doesnât fight you. Doesnât stop your movements. Doesnât scold or challenge you. Instead, he curls his fingers in a way that makes you unabashedly moan, cupping your folds and pinning his thumb to your clit, adapting to your anatomy.
Your wants.
It seems like breaking away from you is a daunting task, but he does for a moment, brow furrowed, more engrossed and invested than youâve ever witnessed.
âFuck.â The curse sounds downright edible, your new favorite flavor. Your name tumbles from his lips like heâs been practicing, a sweet, rich icing on top. You gasp, his tongue adhering to you again, swirling around your peak before lightly biting it.
Rocking your hips back and forth, side-to-side, you grind hard into his palm. He strokes you like heâs studied what pace you prefer, how much friction you crave. Youâre so wet, even youâre thrown off by it.
Once heâs finished with your chest, heâs back against the seat, unable to peel his gaze from you. Your full, swollen, glistening breasts.
His mouth hangs open, obscene, desperate whimpers slipping from it. Pupils are like whirlpools that drive you under. Drive you mad.
Homelander adeptly slips two, three digits inside your sopping cunt, unrelenting in his intentions to make up for lost time. The voracity of his actions propels you forward, balancing against his chest. He grasps and pulls at your other hip, groaning loudly in your ear, confirming his approval of how close you are to him.
Itâs still not enough.
Pulling you even tighter to his blinding sun of a body, he encloses his free arm around you and desperately bucks his waist. âI want⊠I want⊠I wantâŠâ he chants. Your nails drag up his neck and along his scalp, overwhelmed by his warmth, his scent, him. Your lips ghost the sliver of skin above his collar, making him growl.
You anticipate and dread and yearn for whatâs been building for so long. You clench and release, clench and release, clench and release, body chanting with him.
Youâre intuitively thankful for the chairâs sturdiness; however, if it would have collapsed, youâre honestly not sure you would have noticed. Or cared.
You hear him come first. Feel the temperature rise temporarily. Itâs so sudden and all-consuming that you naturally follow, his name an instinct you canât help but divulge. You havenât come down from the turbulent emotions rushing through you earlier, and that combination catapults you over the edge.
Your orgasm draws more deliberate, vehement grunts and sighs of satisfaction from him, as if your pleasure is inexplicably the same or worth more than his.
You canât crumple into a boneless heap like you want to. You just canât. You have to look at him. Look at his bliss; the glazed, barren-yet-so-full-of-you expression, of what these months of working in close quarters have done to him.
What you uncover is not what you were picturing. Thereâs a mixture of that haze with something almost apologetic below the teeming surface. Clouds of red to skies of blue. Destructive in and of themselves.
Sliding his fingers from your wetness, he wraps his lips around each one that was inside of you and spreads them apart. Your slick sticks to his glossy skin and stretches between digits, a generous amount. You whimper at the loss- the emptying, hollow feeling- and watch, mesmerized and delirious as he savors you.
Swallowing you whole, Homelander sweeps his knuckles across the apple of your cheek and presses his lips hard against yours. He wastes no time inhaling your gasps and moans, licking your mouth and the faint taste of mint, stealing it from you. You ingest what you can of him as well, exploring what was open to you longer than you realized.
He then seizes your wrists. Itâs a rough gesture that evaporates into gentle circles along your pulse points. Still, you know youâre going to bruise where he turned the key and locked you into place: wherever he is.
A visible sheen coats his lips.
âI want you to tell me Iâm good. Great. The best.â
His breathing is labored. So is yours.
He kisses the inside of the wrist smeared with perfume, your fluids, his saliva; ends with your hand and rests his cheek against the slope of it.
âI want you to be mine. All mine. Mine alone.â
Youâre shaking. He moves forward and pets your hair, twirls it; grabs your nape and holds his thumb to the front of your throat. Securing you. Keeping you there.
âYou have to stay. Be mine and stay.â
You thrum with an ache he forced upon you. Heâll claim you were starving and he was the only one who could satiate.
You nod. You were never going to leave to begin with.
Homelander made you his. And you thanked him for it.
#homelander#homelander x reader#the boys#antony starr#my writing#let me see you stripped down to the bone#oneshot#god it feels so good getting this out#iâve been going through a painful writerâs block so đ„č#thank you everyone who helped and anyone who reads#this is my first full-fledged homelander fic so iâm a bit nervous but! very excited đ€#love you all đ„°
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âTo whom,â Alfred rasps, pausing to clear his throat and establish his sense of decorum, âMay I ask, to whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?â
The creature stops, blinks its owlish eyes at him, and lets out a bark of laughter.
âForgive me,â it says, still chuckling lightly, raising a hand to rub at the back of his neck. Alfred is suddenly struck by the feeling that this creature is not as timeless, nor as old or as wizened, as it wished to present itself. âI am making a terrible first impression. My name is Phantom, current High King of the Infinite Realms.â
Contractual Obligations by me!!!
I couldn't get the image of Ghost King Danny out of my head, so here he is!! Acrylic on canvas, and I'm so happy with it - he came out a lot better than I thought he would đ
#danny phantom#dpxdc#ghost king danny#phanart#dpxdc big bang#dcxdp#ahhhhh here he is!!!!!!! it's king phantom ahhh!!!!!!#i didnt add his aurora halo and i feel like a fraud đ but it wouldnt have fit and also im very scared of adding it#and he has a massive honking stonker of a nose đ€Ł sorry my boy by the time i realised i couldnt change it#this is... my first fanart#(and its of my own fic - thats bad isnt it haha)#i hope you all like it!!!! its not something i normally do but i couldnt get it out of my head#hey uh... hey.... what do i do with a 30x40 canvas of danny phantom fanart?#like. what do i do with that? is he just gonna float around my room for a while?#probably#ALSO my mum showed my dad and he said 'you did that? that's amazing' and im pretty sure thats the most amount of praise hes ever given me#which affected me way more than it should#he took a picture of it and mum was like 'he's going to show that to everyone' and i dont know how to explain to them its fanart#of a cartoon that aired 20 years ago đ€Łđ€Ł#anyway!!!!!!!! hope you all like it!!! please read the fic and then give some love to my wonderful artists#they went above and beyond for this like wwooooaaaaahhhh#art that I will never forget đ„°#love you all goodnight!!!!!
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@hereticcryptid I appear to be slowly but surely developing an entire series about how Hensheng and Baxia apparently get fed up with their owners' inability to express their feelings and take matters into their own hands...
#mdzs#jin guangyao#nie mingjue#jgy#nmj#nieyao#very sincerely this is a concept i keep coming back to and spinning around in my head#i find it unreasonably funny i want these swords revealing every tender feeling that these two are categorically incapable of admitting to#really i just want to bring the concept of e'ming and the general embarrassment hua cheng feels for his sabre at all times and throw it#into the mdzs world#can't quite bully the concept into an actual fic but i do love thinking about it and drawing art related to it#i assume nmj nearly went completely feral the first time hensheng shot out at him#like yup! he knew jgy was a snake! he's trying to attack him while his guard is down!!! well nmj is gonna deflect this fucking weak attack#and then SKEWER jgy and there's no way lxc can hold it against him!#except rather than deflecting hensheng baxia is a horrible traitor about it and instead he ends up getting cuddled by a touch-starved sword#0/10 nmj is having a horrible day he would genuinely have prefered jgy try to kill him (jgy would have ALSO prefered that as it happens)#(nhs on the other hand is having an AMAZING day when he sees it)#my art#THANK YOU EVERYONE THAT SENT ME PROMPTS!#this seriously helped get me through the day and made my evening so much better#i shall continue to go through them tomorrow after work as well đ„°đ„°đ„°#hensheng
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a little tomarry fighting snippet/warmup :)
"Oh please," Harry begins dismissively, "What would you know about friendship or kindness? All you do is lie and manipulate people."
Tom steps forward, an angry snarl on his face, his emotions far too unclouded. "Maybe, Potter, people are loyal to me because they actually like me, something you wouldn't be accustomed to."
And Harry can't help it. He laughs, and it's mean and cruel and childish and every bit of anger he's felt towards Tom Riddle since the moment he's gotten here.Â
"You think people like you, Riddle?! You think anybody in this school actually fucking likes you?!"
The anger and bitterness in Harry are building up to such a boiling point that it releases in an awful, spiteful, flood. His manic grin is directly in Riddle's face, but nothing is funny.Â
"The people who follow you are only there because you lied to them! You promised them fame and power and immortality and where do you think they'll go when you inevitably fail?! Because that's not loyalty, Riddle!"
Their argument has escalated so loudly that the entire hallway has stopped, instead staring at both of them, but Harry is too incensed to stop now.
"You know nothing about loyalty or friendship or anything worthwhile because you're such an egotistical maniac, that you can't even fathom the idea that people don't fucking care about you as much as you think they do!"
Over the whispers and mutters of the crowd, Harry can only hear his and Riddle's own heavy breathing. The hall seems blurry around them. There's only his furious screaming truth, and Riddle's look of angry shock.Â
But underneath Riddle's expression is something Harry is all too familiar with. A slight look of fear and worry, some insecurity that's lived inside of him since he stepped into Hogwarts. Even without legilimency, Harry knows exactly what Riddle is thinking.
What if he's right?
#yayyy i love writing screaming matches i love writing angerđ„°đ„°đ„°#if u like this maybe check out my fic..#anyways i needed a warmup and the idea of harry being like NO ONE LIKES YOU is very funny to me#tomarry#tom riddle#tom marvolo riddle#harry potter#harrymort#voldemort#lord voldemort#đ€.txt
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@tes-summer-fest 24, day 4: thief and enamoured
Ah yes. You're not a thief. I know this, and I love youđ©·
A little gift for @hannah-heartstrings and her lovely Thiefguard đ
#tesfest24#day 4#prompt: thief#prompt: enamoured#tes#oblivion#hero of kvatch#lecrinn#friend's cute ocs#garrus darelliun#thiefguard#tesblr#it's inspired by hannah's fic âwhat's your sign?â i'll reblog below#they're very in love đ©·đđ„°#they're very in love but they'll occasionally be silly
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god supplements
#porter cliffbreaker#jace stardiamond#jorter#i guess?#fantasy high#i dont actually want to seek out fic or art of them but theres something very silly about them#like these are the two most benignly evil people :) i think they should fall in love đ„°đ„°đ„°#<-benignly evil in the sense there are no dragons or dead gods irl but theres plenty of abusive teachers
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I know I talk a lot about smut but honestly no fic dynamic beats gen T-rated found family T^T my og my darling my blessed.
#currently eating a very good loki-and-the-avengers fic of the 'loki gets rehabilitated in the tower' variety#and my god I love fics where people just gradually learn more about each other and develop alongside each other đ„°đ„°đ„°
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đ€đ«đč
#this is a very very soft announcement bc it might change (as you know me smh đ)#as some might remember i said like 1-2 months ago that id see how i feel about tumblr after cmi11.5 and see whether i want#to stay or close that chapter of my life! and i've been thinking about it a lotttt these days and i keep going back and forth#but i think depending on how everyone likes Entertainer it might be my last fic on here đ€#which again.. can change depending on my mood n motivation.. im also not saying this to get attention etc but to inform you where i stand :)#writing is just a looooot of effort and tumblr has been vvv quiet (i also think my blog has lost some relevance but that's okay!! things#move fast)#i have soooo many wips i love lol đ but im not sure if i have the energy to write 20-40k stuff when nobody's around anymore :(#but let's see how you like Entertainer bc im vvv excited for it!! đ„° keep spreading love until then <3#love you guys sm đ€#might delete since it's an unsure post.. just wanted those who see this or care to know đ«
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fanart might be slower bc i can do this againđ«¶
#when I finish this Iâm going to sketch up the next illustration for my fic (ch 4)đ„°đ„°đ„°đ„°đ„°#and when it gets dark write the oneshot of clumsy#ummmmm I actually love it my hopeless romantic is coming outđđ„čđ«¶#I hope you guys like it too !!!!!#tomorrow im have a VERY stressful immigration appointmentđ Iâve been waiting in constant stress for 2+ yearsâŠ.#that sort of stress takes a lot out of a girl I just want to be silly and carefree lol#well after tomorrowđđ I will be FREE OF THE STRESS !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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What a gorgeous fic from a brilliant writer đâšïž Love you loads
Untitled Portrait of a Man (I Want to Obliterate Me) - Dreamling - AO3
Rating: T | Status: Complete | Chapters 1/1 | Words: 5.5K
Tags: Alternate Universe - College/University, Art Student Dream of the Endless, Student Athlete Hob Gadling, Pining, Flirting, Shameless Flirt Hob Gadling, Getting Together, Self-Esteem Issues, Past Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Basically Dream has some trauma from a party that informs his interactions with Hob, Also he's had some bad relationships, Idiots in Love, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, as a treat
Summary: Dream is an art student who happens to see Hob playing rugby on the campus quad one summer afternoon. He decides then and there that he needs to draw him. Immediately.
For my beloved @abyssalcryptid đ Check out their full art here! (Note: full picture contains artistic nudity)
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fic rec uno
rules: rec a fic with something in common with the one before. it can be broad (e.g. ship, fandom), narrow (e.g. setting, trope), or niche (e.g. van camping, hot tub scene)
This is suchhhhh a fun idea I love it!
I was tagged by @rockyteriyaki who put forward (the excellent!) desire, divine, drenched by @bighoneyenergy, a fic that includes squirting, just like:
sliding in the wet by Anonymous (3k, Carlos/Lando, Explicit)
Good, Lando thinks. Carlosâs body is so good for this, for taking instructions mindlessly, perfectly. Even when Carlos can feel the empty bulge at the front of Lando's boxer-briefs where his dick should be. Even when Carlos realizes Lando got swapped, he still lets Lando do this. âShh, just donât, Iâmââ Lando rolls back onto his ass and slides his boxer-briefs down and off. âStay there. If you move your hands, you lose,â he says, firm like he only can be when they do this.
This has a sex swap, squirting, light dom/sub, anxiety, Carlando, so I'm going to tag @newbromantics, @pidgeooooon, and @foggieststars if you want to, to recommend a fic with a connection to this one âșïžâșïž
#This was so fun#what an opportunity to look through the bookmarks đ„°#Tag game#I love this fic and would very much recommend
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âïžđ shield and scepter đâïž
Howdy, y'all! So my wonderful mutual @raemeh did this really cool fanart of my royalty Swiftli au (the fic for which can be found here), and I had some little design ideas about them in my wips, so I thought I'd post the two of them here! Thank you so much to everyone who's enjoyed it <333
#i also have a silly little au playlist that cookies and sei helped out with if folks are interested!#anyway. absolutely FLOORED that people enjoyed this silly little fic i impulse-wrote. it was so very highly self indulgent sdkjbkjadbfs#but good news! i think i'm probably going to write more of it :D my silly little knight and my silly little prince <333#also hope you don't mind the tag stingrae!!!#also also. ik there's a lot of fantasy/storybook dndads stuff going on#so if u like this kind of concept but also prefer other ships like say... marloakworthy... lovesong... gun control... nudges u to eah au#<- by the lovely kaseykat llumimoon and rindomness on here btw!!! feat. rin and nyx's kickass writing and cal and rin's kickass designs!!!#okokok enough blabbing i just. LOVE all the fucking storybook shenanigans this fandom has going on rn đ„°đ„°đ„°#dndads#swiftli#shield and scepter#<- yeah i caved. made an au tag. what of it#happi doodles#happi rambles
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What was the moment/scene that officially cemented you as a Sontails shipper? Or was it multiple?
Ah good question!
So if you've seen my sontails/sonine posting you've probably heard the story of me getting into sontails (no worries if you haven't)
Just to summarize, my journey started with Sonine and Movie!Sontails. The Grim scene in S1 E6 of Prime and the entire bar scene in Movie 2 just blasted me with second hand embarrassment (the good kind) that (despite me being eh about shipping them at that time) made be seriously go "Okay if just brothers why are these scenes directed this way". Sonic's feelings aside, I felt I knew in those moments that Nine and movie!Tails had possibly been written to have a subtextual crush on Sonic, and strong feelings in general. This was...my gateway.
But an "officially cemented" moment is a bit hard for me to specifically narrow down. I can tell you that by the time I'd been checking the Sonine tag after starting S2 of Prime and finished S2 I had to come to terms with the fact that I genuinely saw something there between the two of them (and was feeling frustrated that no one else was seemingly seeing it). At that point I'd settled as "I like Sonine but that doesn't mean I have to like all of Sontails".
Then I rewatched movie 2 a couple times and had to (similarly) come to terms with the fact that I was genuinely frustrated to not really see other people commenting on what I'd seen as potential subtext regarding Movie!Tails' feelings and that I liked this version as well.
So my gateway into Sontails was Prime and Sonic Movie 2, but accepting I liked most versions of Sontails/Sontails in general and not just a few specific versions was a bit of a slow journey. All I can say is that by the time I finished playing Colors Ultimate and got well into the Archie comics I knew I enjoyed Sontails just as much as I had come to enjoy Sonine, and was equally as obsessed with the dynamics.
#sonic the hedgehog#tails the fox#miles tails prower#sontails#sonine#sonic prime#sonic movie 2#i just be ramblin#Thank you so much for the ask by the way!!đ„°đđđđ#getting this one made me happy#Anyhow#I'm a super big sor/iku fan okay#Definitely my first huge otp#And so I'm kind of hopelessly into those pairings where you've got the mc with a lot of friends#and then you've got the mc's best friend who's kind of hopelessly in love with them and attached and thinks their feelings are one sided#It was hard for me watching Sonic Movie 2 and Sonic Prime at that time NOT to be lambasted with those feelings that I'd be able to recognize#with my eyes closed#And it kind of blew my mind when I checked the sonine tag out of curiosity after watching s1 and after watching s2 that everyone was so#sona/dow focused#As if none of the stuff with Nine and Sonic had happened#Likewise that all I was seeing about movie 2 was that Tails clearly saw him as the older brother he'd never had#I'd started to become frustrated on the behalf on people that must be fans that people weren't recognizing what was going on#and had started to realize that I myself was frustrated that there was very little analysis/fic/fanart#Idk#came into Sonic expecting to be a Sona/dow otp fan and then I fell into sonine/sontails and went insane about it#Sadly I can't point to scenes that cemented me being a shipper but I CAN point to scenes that sent me down the path to becoming one#Ah right and also#If you do have any other questions about my sontails journeyâ what I think about themâ experiences I had or anything else#Do feel free to shoot me another ask!#flashoneonetwo interview
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cute nurse yuuta but also unhinged nurse yuuta, you see? nurse yuuta with cold fingers and needles. white rooms and white gloved fingers touching you. nurse yuuta who is making mental notes of every detail of your skin, your needs. and of course the short exchanged words. and who is mesmerized by how softly the needle pierces through your skin, by how you trust him. he's done it a thousand times before, it shouldn't be this special. the delicacy in which his body moves as to not make it any more uncomfortable than it already is. he wonders if he could make you drift away slowly, warmly falling deep into unconsciousness without notice. those thoughts trouble him often. it's tempting.
I always liked hospitals and nursers. And blood tests. It's definitely not the usual harmless Yuuta.
ohâŠâŠ.. the more often he has to graze your skin, to draw your blood, to check your temperature, the more he keeps thinking about how he almost wants to keep you under his care foreverâŠ. how he kind of wants to be the only person to have to care for you.Â
and itâs not that he wants to hurt you to keep you there, he just wants to be the only one to touch you, he wants to be the only one you trust. and he wants to know everything about you, he knows the ins but he wants to see it affect your outside too. he knows your blood is warm in the vials, but how does it feel against your cheeks when youâre flustered? when youâre happy? when youâre scared? does your skin feel cold everywhereâwhere are you warm? heâs seen the graph of your heart on ECGs, but who does it beat for? can he make it beat for him? if he gave you part of him, would you keep it, would he be able to live inside of you? theyâre very tempting thoughts; troublesome, but temptingâŠ.
#anonymous#yuuta............ my most most beloved ur haunting persona has bewitched me once again#cw blood#there is a half-finished alternate (? extension?) of yuuta okkotsu's declassified jujutsu tech survival guide that's like...#the darker part of it? idk it's more insight to how reader's technique is freaky and he's just like đ„°đ„°đ„° anyway bc he likes it..freak#also idk if anyone got this from that fic but reader and yuuji are both very aware that their partners are freaks#but the gag is they (reader/yuuji) are worse#i deleted it but there's a scene where yuuji is talking to reader and is like so how messed up is yuuta ik u love to try n fix someone#and reader is like very đ„° and idet hes fixable wistful sigh
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Hey! How do you feel sepfember is going? I've enjoyed seeing all the lovely art and writings. Hope you're doing well!
luna!! hi!! thank you for the ask đ
sepfember is going more brilliantly than i ever could have hoped. it's been absolutely wonderful seeing people coming together to create things! i've been trying my best to express my joy in the tags of my reblogs, but i'm not sure anything ever could! it's been truly wonderful. i have loved every minute of it so far - writing the prompt drabbles every day, and checking the tag for other people's work to reblog, and sniffing out beautiful art for the queue... a couple of times people have pinged me on the LU discord too, to show me sepfember art, and it entirely melted my heart. and i can't tell if it's coincidence but i'm seeing more sepfember-unrelated/untagged female focused art on my dash too!
in a franchise that caters a great deal to male gamers (and in my own linked universe bubble where all of our main characters are men), my only wish for this event was to balance the scales just a little - create a little bit of brainspace in our minds for the women. show more people who they are and what their names are and what they do! spare a moment to wonder about their goals and motives and characterisation. because they do exist! there are more women in this franchise than even i thought before this event! and i think they're worth celebrating, don't you?
#ahhh thank you again luna đ„°đ„°đ„°#sorry that was a bit of a ramble there#anyway the point is that when i joined this fandom the first 5 fic ideas i wrote down were all very obscure stories about the princesses'#lives and backstories and adventures. and i never actually wrote any of them because i realised that there wasn't any audience for stories#about side characters (and i was wanting to make friends more than anything). no one seemed to think about them very much#and i know i sound insane because like - its totally normal and reasonable that people want stories about the main characters and not#the damsel in distress whose personality is mostly cobbled together from bits of headcanons and conspiracy string because she was never#characterised in depth in her own game#- so you know. as much as i love the boys#i think there is a lot of untapped potential in the women characters. and i am more than willing to be a cheerleader for them#omg i am SO SORRY ABOUT THIS HUGE RANT JUST IGNORE ME#it sounds sort of salty but i dont mean it like that. i love you all and i love all the male characters too#i just. women. you know?#anyway#sepfember#social tag#legend of zelda
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