#becca’s writing <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[becca-e-barnes]

Bucky pinning you down so you can’t squirm and he’s just sitting inside you while he tortures your clit feeling you clench around him. He makes you cum over and over until he finally cums.

Overstimulation + super soldier stamina = …

- 🍯

Dear God, I know I just don't have it in me to behave during cock-warming. When it comes down to it, I genuinely have no patience at all 😵‍💫

"You..." Bucky begins, pressing you down onto the bed before gripping your ankles and forcing you to flip over onto your front. "Have a problem with control."

With your face turned away from him, you can't help but smile to yourself. No one has ever said it out loud but you know he's right.

Being in control is where you're most comfortable. No hands are safer than your own. Except maybe his. You know he won't fuck this up.

"And you..." He continues, gathering your wrists behind your back, holding them tightly with one hand. "Need to learn how it feels to have control taken from you. Do you understand?"

As soon as you begin to nod your head, you feel him start to tape around your wrists, holding them together behind your back. Once he's content they're secure, he sits on the edge of the bed, facing the mirror before he pulls you onto his lap.

"Legs spread over the top of mine." He orders and you do as you're told, not because you have to but because you want to.

You notice the way your cunt is already glistening in the mirror and you're almost embarrassed because he hasn't even touched you yet.

"Fuck, you're made for this." He groans, lining his cock up to your slick entrance and you wonder if he's holding his breath too while he slides into you, as deep as your bodies will allow.

You're obsessed with the sight in front of you; your own naked body, with your legs spread so far apart you can see how your cunt is stuffed full of him.

Being shorter though, your feet can't touch the ground like this. There's no way you'll get enough leverage to fuck yourself on him but as soon as you start to tell him that, he silences you with two thick fingers between your lips.

"I'm not letting you fuck me." His free hand roams over your body, squeezing your breasts, pinching your nipples and then settling between your spread thighs.

"I'm going to play with you. I'm going to see how much you can take. I'm going to work out exactly how you like your clit stroked and I'm going to do that until your legs are shaking and your body won't let you cum any more. Maybe then I'll fuck you but sweetheart, that will be hours from now." His breath is hot against the side of your face, his fingers slipping from your mouth to your waist while he starts to flick gently against your clit.

"I'm going to start slowly. I'm going to do everything I can to drag this out as long as possible. I can feel every clench and flutter of this pretty little cunt and I'm going to enjoy it until you're dripping over my balls." At this rate, it won't be long until you're dripping onto the carpet, never mind over him. You dreamed he'd want to take control like this but you never imagined the way your body would respond.

"And then, when you've cum more times than you can handle, I'm going to tell you that I love you while I fuck you like I don't."

Update: Part 2

[bonesbuckleup]

girl help I'm 70,000 words deep into writing this novel and think I have to reoutline and rework the whole thing

[phoenixtakaramono]

OPERATION BABYLON - PART VII

aka the butchlander sugar baby AU.

Tumblr Navigation (note I have not shared the prologue here with its premise setup; I’ve only started sharing this twitter threadfic on tumblr starting from the 2nd 🔞 scene): I | II | III | IV | V | VI | VII

Update Schedule: weekly/ biweekly

(You can read the rest of the threadfic update here!)

Keep in mind, all of my AU Butchlander threadfics on Twitter are the unpolished first draft versions of what’ll eventually be polished up into long fics on AO3 under the Shock and Awe series. So you may regard this threadfic as an experimental first prototype and exclusive preview whose contents may or may not be changed in the future final draft version. We’re just loosely playing around with ideas and concepts for now!

If you don’t have a Twitter account, screenshots are provided below the line break so you can read this update on Tumblr as well:

A/N - ...I shouldn't be surprised but it's always a surprise to me seeing the effect whenever I switch POVs in my fics (because, depending on who's POV it is, it somehow always humanizes the male chara whose POV I'm in and makes him seem...softer than were I to write in the opposite POV).

In Billy's POV = HL is provocative and manly

In HL's POV = Billy is provocative and manly

Maybe it's just me imagining this strange phenomenon but I feel the dynamic has certainly flipped a tad when this happens, haha.

Next update we'll get the stereotypical rich sug*r d*ddy spoiling and pampering his wide-eyed sug*r b*by scene. Tbh I tried to fit it into this update but it didn't feel like it's the right placement yet and it needs buildup (to set up the next spicy scene). Homelander has to earn that D 🍆 💦.

[willysnylander]

as promised , i come bearing a word prompt !!! i would love if you could possible write something with lukedaws + ‘surprise’ please !! i think i would love you forever (somehow impossibly more than i already do😽🫶)

thanks so much for this, becca!! sorry it took me so long and that it’s kind of short, i started writing a different version of this and i wound up not liking it so i had to start over 😭. i hope you like it!, though! <3

The kiss comes as a total surprise, when it happens. Not an unwelcome one, certainly, considering all the less-than-platonic thoughts Luke has been secretly having about his teammate for months now, but definitely a surprise.

The two of them are sitting on the couch of Luke and Jack’s apartment, playing a few rounds of Chel and just generally hanging out. It’s just them in the apartment - Jack’s out grocery shopping. It was supposed to be Luke’s turn to do that, actually, but when he’d mentioned earlier that Dawson had texted him asking to hang out Jack said he would do it instead, an offer paired with a wink and an insistence that Luke should be able to spend time with his quote-unquote “future husband”.

Luke had very much appreciated his brother in that moment, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t thrown a pillow at Jack as the older Hughes brother had made his way out of the apartment.

Right now, though, Luke has just finished kicking Dawson’s ass for the third round in a row. As the game ends on the TV screen, Luke throws up his arms and lets out a triumphant crow, quickly followed by a laugh as Dawson groans and slumps dramatically back into the couch cushions.

“Dude,” Dawson whines. “I already know you’re good at this game, you don’t have to, like, humiliate me to prove it.”

Luke laughs again, shorter this time. “Please, you think that was me humiliating you? You should see me play against Jack or John sometime, that’s me humiliating someone.”

He sets his controller on the coffee table, preparing to take a little break and grab a drink from the kitchen, and when he turns over his shoulder to ask Dawson if he wants anything, the other boy is actually pouting. It’s not an expression Luke is used to seeing on his teammate at all, and it’s so silly and endearing all at once that he feels heat bloom in his chest and finds himself unsure whether to laugh or smile fondly.

“Still,” says Dawson, and it takes Luke a second to force his stupid crushing brain to focus on the words and not just the lips they’re coming out of, “you couldn’t’ve let me win once? Spare my poor, fragile ego?”

Luke does laugh now, tilting his head back slightly from the force of it. He closes his eyes, too, without really meaning to, and when he rights the position of his head and opens them again, Dawson is looking at him with a look in his eyes that he can’t exactly place.

Which is kind of weird. But Luke has already promised himself a while ago, when he first realized he actually had a crush on his teammate, that he was going to do his damnedest to act completely normally around Dawson at all times, and he might as well apply that to odd behaviour from Dawson as well. Besides, it isn’t like the unreadable look on Dawson’s face is the kind of look Luke hopes it is, as much as that sucks - he’s long since accepted that the other boy will never return his feelings and he’ll be stuck uselessly pining until he either finds someone else to like or the feelings go away on their own.

With all that in mind, Luke clears his throat a bit, trying to ignore the blush creeping onto his face because Dawson hasn’t stopped staring at him with that look in his eyes, and says as lightheartedly as possible, “C’mon, Merc, you know I don’t let anyone else win. You wanna beat me, you’ve gotta earn it.” He gently bumps Dawson’s knee with his, smiling as normally as he’s able while his cheeks slowly turn the color of a sunrise. “I’m gonna go grab a Gatorade before we play again, you want-”

He doesn’t get to finish his question. Because all of a sudden Dawson’s eyes have gone from unreadable to determined, and he’s sitting forward again, and then he’s leaning over and his lips, those lips that Luke has been dreaming about for longer than he really wants to admit, are on Luke’s, and just like that Luke is being kissed by the boy he’s just finished reminding himself he’ll never be able to have.

For a second or two, Luke’s body turns to ice, and he just sits there like an idiot, completely still. It isn’t until Dawson falters, seeming to fully realize what he’s doing and panic, and his mouth starts to pull away from Luke’s that Luke finally manages to kick himself out of shock and into action. He chases Dawson, pressing his lips firmly back onto the other boy’s, and this time it’s Dawson’s turn to briefly freeze before he starts responding.

And once he does start responding - Jesus, it’s the best kiss Luke’s ever had. Dawson, even though he’s only two years older and can’t have that much more experience, clearly knows what he’s doing, moving his lips near-perfectly in sync with Luke’s and giving just the right amount of gentle pressure. Luke finds his hands wandering up to tangle themselves in the older boy’s hair, and in return he feels one of Dawson’s hands come to rest on his thigh, acting as a brace for his teammate as Dawson pushes himself impossibly closer to him.

When they finally break apart for air, Luke feels like it’s been an eternity and a single instant all at once. They don’t go far from each other, faces still close enough that they’re panting the same air, their noses just barely brushing together. Dawson’s pupils are blown wide, his hair is messy where Luke still has his hands in it, and his lips are kiss-swollen in the same way Luke imagines his own must be. He’s never looked more attractive, and Luke can feel the heat that had spread through his chest earlier growing even further, becoming a raging inferno of something that feels like genuine love as Luke gazes at the beautiful boy he’s just finished kissing.

Still a bit out of breath, Dawson murmurs, “You’re so fucking good-looking when you laugh.”

So that was the look in his eyes, then, and the reason behind it. Luke knows, logically, that they should have an actual conversation now, that they should talk about how long they’ve both been feelings the feelings they clearly share despite how much Luke thought the opposite. They should be responsible young adults and discuss where they go from here, whether they’ll actually enter into a relationship and what that could look like. They should stop, take a moment, and come up with an actual plan.

But Luke’s never really been that good at planning. And despite everything, how much responsibility he already has that most people his age don’t even have to think about, he’s still a twenty-year-old with a beautiful boy in front of him - a boy he’s been fantasizing about kissing for months, who has just given him the best surprise of his life by making that fantasy come true and making it better than he could’ve dreamed.

So right now, Luke decides to wait until a little later to be responsible. Right now, he just smiles as Dawson, so wide he feels like it’s going to split his face, and closes the short gap between their lips.

taglist: @hughes-jack, @gayhughes, @square-opossums, @hiya-itsamber, @yoontwin (let me know if you want to be added or removed!!)

[caramelloss]

"you are my witch"

lilia calderu x reader • pure smut • 3.2k w/c

summary: you've been friends with lilia calderu for years. drunken from the poison of wine, you confess your love for the woman. although reluctant to admit her feelings, because she harbors a secret you don't know, you learn that lilia feels the same way. years of yearning come to an end, and you find yourself falling into your desires, unable to control what has been kept away for so long.

taglist: @setsuna1415 @honeypiperpizza123 @valarmorghuli @allseingeye @im-a-carnivorous-plant @worstendingever @ramblininsomnia @wandamaximoff-simp @mrsines @onlyv4use @kenzie-floops @screamsin-gay @numenamortenia @valkyrierain @babythere @inlovewithalcinadimitrescu @astrophilliaxx @giona45-5 @evilregal2002 @crescendoofstars @yourbasicqueerie @primalnight @darkangelchronicles @sapphic-girlss @thegoddamnfeels @doctormaviatorres @i-hate-most-insects @brisgayshit97 @iheartmilfzzsposts @redrouge7e7as @novavala @finnza @wandringlightsaber @romanoffsho @kingpreciouswrld @emilyprentitss @elobv10 @wandasreallover @kaypastore38 @thegayassbit-ch @marinalunaestrella @gryffindor-forlife @lorrainemylove @anais-casablanca @girlwithissuesworld @ofgoldandbraid @justgaygirlthings @beachhausu @deathly777 @confuseuniverse @eepyvampy @whyilovewomen @r-3-becca @roksana6448 @bugcolector @etw12 @heartsfromelle @zyguard118 @thelesbianapollokid4 @opossum-in-disguise @snoopyaah @amberwhale @marisacoulterswife @ionlylikefictionalpeople @derry-n @evie-101 @ganyulover123

author's note: so first i'd like to just THANK all of you for blowing up my post asking for who'd like to be tagged, because the taglist isn't even done, i can't fit them all in the blog. also, i tagged you if you liked or reblogged the tag ask post, because i bolded i would tag those who liked or reblogged. second; i'm sorry this isn't a longer fic. it was originally planned to be, but i don't want to use my idea i came up with in a one chapter fic, i'd like it to be used in a longer more meaningful one. i really hope you enjoy this. if you have any positive, negative, or general feedback, please let me know! i want to become the best author i can be for you guys. also, i'd love to receive any asks for fanfiction or one shots! i'm currently focused on my big multi character x reader fic, but im 100% open to and willing to write for your requests.

content includes: fingering, oral stimulation, biting, praise, hair pulling, pet name usage

you noticed the difference in her eyes like it was bolded in bright red ink. her smile fell, like an angel to descend from heaven. 'this is it' you thought, 'she’ll hate me.' you turned away in shame, your heart dropped. words flooded out, stupid, careless words. "i love you, lilia." 

you couldn't bear to look, you feared the disagreement would show on her face. your body tenses, and you scrunch the bridge of your nose with your fingers. you expect her to tell you to get out, or leave.. but you hear nothing. 

but you feel, oh, you feel. 

you feel her behind you, closer than when you had muttered those stupid, damning words. her fingers gently traced your neck, and you closed your eyes, the yearning in your soul up to its brink of expression. each breath you take is shaky, is heavy. you tilt your head aside, desperate to feel her warmth on your skin forever. 

you open your eyes when you feel her breath on your neck. she must've noticed your body's reaction, because she paused, and remained still. lilia traces her fingers down your body, to your hips. she stops here, her lips close to your ears, as her body presses into your back. 

you lean into her, your head slightly leaning back, at the pure and utter pleasure you feel being so close to her. her lips part, and with such composure, yet so little solidity, she delivers a line that would come to send shivers down your spine. "i have loved you since i saw you the first time, long ago. i am consumed and rattled by you at every waking second.." her hands pull you in, and you hum at the gesture. your eyes are closed, not because you hate this, or don't want to be there, but because the way you long for her in this moment now is too painful for you to bear. a lump forms in your throat when you feel her wet cheek graze your neck. she was in tears, and you needed to console her; but how? how should you console her now? you did not have much time to think. her lips, warm, soft, and gentle, were on your neck. the kiss she blessed your skin with felt like one that existed prior to the world, and forever past the present. it was torture, it was devastation, when she pulled away. it hurt, it was brutal.. so brutal, your lips parted, and you gasped quietly. your hand reached back for her head, and you enveloped your fingers in the curly, silver locks of her hair. you held her head close to yours, as her thumbs rubbed gently upon your hips. her voice broke as she completed her confession, and your heart broke with it; you'd do anything to protect her, to keep her from harm. "i'm a witch, y/n.. how could you ever love a witch?" 

your eyes opened, and you stopped breathing, for just a moment. you were sure you'd heard wrong. with a furrowed brow, and a worrisome expression, you broke away from her touch, from her hold. you turned to her, and your head tilted to the side, as tears began to form in your waterline. the sight of her, so weak, so doubtful of herself, so ashamed.. your heart shattered like a broken mirror. 

her face was lined with streaks of wet. she had cried for this, she suffered for it. she couldn't even look at you, her eyes were avert. 

your hands raced to cup her cheeks, and you gently wipe away her tears. her lips part, in astonishment, followed by her eyes meeting your gaze. finally, you saw those beautiful eyes again. your heart skipped a thousand beats at the sight of those irises. you smile, and your face softens. "lilia.." you whisper, your forehead pressed against hers now, "i've loved you since the sun rose opposite the moon. i've chased you in all of my wildest dreams. i've loved you in every moment and i would not stop because of what you are or are not." at your notation, her lips fold into a smile. she grabs your wrists softly, holding them. once more you spoke, "you are my witch, my little piece of divinity. you are mine, and my heart is yours." you watch as her eyes move from your eyes to your lips, and you wish for nothing but her to kiss you. 

after all these years, of being her "friend", you have never wanted anything more than for her to kiss you. it's like an insatiable hunger you cannot destroy. 

lilia bites her lip, and she grabs your chin with her pointer finger and her thumb. you start to breath heavy, and your heart begins to race. she brings your face to hers, so close that your lips graze against one another’s. you ache for her, you long for her. you need to taste her, to merge your body, your soul, your heart, with hers. you need her to kiss you. 

and she does. her lips mesh with yours in perfect harmony, like the melody of heaven’s sea. your mind is adrift, clouded. you cannot form a thought, you do not desire to form a thought. her unaccompanied hand caresses the small of your back, and you pull her closer with the hands you hold on her face. 

she slips her tongue along your bottom lip, and you moan softly into the kiss. her grip on your chin releases, and she holds your jaw instead. she guides you through the long, heart-felt kisses. her lips control your body, your mind. 

warmth builds between your thighs, and your head is still covered by nothing but a blanket of emptiness. lilia is the first to pull away, her lack of oxygen in her lungs being the culprit. you curse the living necessity of air. 

you yourself breathe heavy, panting almost. lilia’s lipstick is smudged, and you smirk at the notion that you've just kissed this marvel of a woman. she notices your cocky smile, and a single eyebrow lifts. she now wore a smirk herself. 

“you're looking at me like you've just seen me naked, y/n.” you chuckle when she says this. “while i wouldn't be opposed to that, i'm just a little satisfied with the fact that in the midst of kissing me, you forgot about your lipstick.”  

her smirk faded and her lips parted again, she pop looked offended, but you could tell it was just her beautiful sense of sarcasm. 

“fix it for me?” she asked this with a lower tone and a wink, and you felt your core throb at the sound of her voice. she wanted you to kiss her again. 

you ran your tongue across your bottom lip, and you couldn't help your smile. her hands guided your face close, and you pushed a curl behind her ear. she grew desperate, unable to wait. her lips caught yours, and you shut your eyes at the contact. in your head you pictured her eyes, beautiful and brown, like the rock embedded and shaded on the side of a mountain. your grip on her hair tightened as she pushed you back softly, making sure not to break the kiss. her lips were soft, so soft it felt like the comfort a pillow brings in the hour of sleep. you moan as your lower back makes contact with her counter, and your head leans back, which breaks the embrace. 

the wetness between your thighs grows, and you figure your underwear must be utterly ruined. lilia's fingers stroked your hair, and she shook her head slightly, a whisper following shortly. "let me taste you.. every inch of you.." you bite your lip, and hold her gaze, nodding hesitantly; even though you don't feel hesitant on your answer at all. her smirk returns, and her hands descend, down from your hair to your neck. she drags them further down, past your shoulders. she stops at where the unbuttoned cardigan opens, pushing the material off of your arms and body. her warmth intoxicates you when her skin brushes against yours. she plants hot kisses on your upper arms, which are exposed because of the camisole top you wore. 

her hands found the straps to your shirt, and she pulled them down slowly, kissing the empty place they used to cover. you tense, and your eyes shut as your lips purse together while you try to conceal the soft hum of pleasure you make.

lilia's fingers pull away the top, leaving you completely naked and exposed from your waist up. she smiles at the sight, her hands cupping your breasts. you feel the slick between your legs, it seems the inner part of your thighs had gotten soaked by extension.

her thumbs grazed over your nipples, and the sensation was enough to drive you wild. you pulled her head into the curve of your neck, your lips parted as soft moans escaped. she chuckles and her lips start to kiss your neck. 

your knees go weak, simply from the ecstasy her lips brings you. her thumbs lose the feel of your sensitive buds, and she begins to creep down your throat. she leaves sloppy kisses down your collarbone, and down to your nipples. her eyes close as she takes one into her mouth, suckling on the sweet spot. your eyes fall back, and you inhale, biting down onto your lip to stop yourself from being loud. her fingers play with your lone nipple, and you feel as though you will not be able to take much more of this before becoming pathetic for her. 

the witch releases your areola from her mouth and takes in the other, her tongue lapping around the bundle of nerves. her hands trace the curves of your body. they pause when she's reached your hips, and she digs her nails into your skin. the pain blends with the pleasure beautifully, and it's as if they are interchangeable. 

you breathe heavily, your stomach twitching when she starts to drag her lips down your stomach. your pussy was so wet that she could smell the scent of arousal from your waistline. her fingers pulled up the black skirt you wore, and it revealed your soaked nude panties. she chuckled, looking up at you with eyes that were darkened and overwhelmed with lust. she bit her lip and furrowed her brow, which made you roll your eyes. 

“you're so wet, darling. i could just devour you.” you gently pull her hair, forcing her head back a little. she smirks, and you pout. “please, i need you” you say, pleading for her tongue, for her fingers, for her to be the one to shape you into a mess of a woman. 

she winks, bringing her mouth to your inner thigh. she leaves kisses along your skin, and it seems as though she’s teasing you. her eyes stay locked onto yours with each touch of her lips, she wants to see your face as she tortures you.

your hands release her hair, and grab onto the counter behind you, your nails scratch the surface with each new touch. her eyes look so dark, and it turns you on even more. 

but your view of them is gone as she bites into your other thigh. her teeth are sharp, and your jaw drops, you whimper. her teeth release, and she kisses the bite mark. you open your eyes to see it, to see the mark she had left. it was dark red, and your expression changed, you felt your core throb uncontrollably, and you grabbed her head by her hair, guiding her to your cunt. your eyes pleaded with her. 

lilia opened her mouth and licked the wet slick on your panties, all while looking you dead in the eyes. the touch was faint, but it was all your body needed to jerk up. it was so cruel, the way she left you needy and desperate for her. you couldn't think beyond her tongue on your clit, or her fingers buried in your warm folds. 

she bit the material of your under garment, pulling it slowly down your legs. her eyes were stolen away by the sight of you completely naked and in front of her, soaked, ruined. you were such a slut for her. you wonder if she would tease you about how soiled you got for her later down the line. 

the witch sighed, and her lips kissed the very inside of your thighs, right beside where you writhed for her. you thought you might faint. 

using your hand, you rubbed her cheek, shaking your head at the sight of her, down on her knees, ready to please you.  

she turned her face, kissing your gentle fingers. you smiled, and you took a deep breath as she brought her face as close as possible to your core. her eyes were focused on your face, you could tell she wanted to watch your face as she ate you out. so typical of her. 

her face buried between your legs, her tongue circling your clit. your hands shot behind you to the counter once more, desperate to hold yourself up. your eyes closed, and your back arched. the moan that echoed through the room was inevitable. she took her time, finding the nerves that were more sensitive and paying more attention to them. you thought she must've found you stupid to be so wet and needy for her. 

her tongue sped up, and she took your clit into her mouth, suckling the bud. you couldn't control the way your hips bucked, or the way your knees fell wobbly and weak. her hands grabbed your hips to stabilize her, and she pulled her mouth away in a flash. 

you were worrisome, you thought maybe you'd messed up, or maybe she'd realized she didn't want you like this. it was almost heartbreaking to feel her pull away. 

she had never stopped looking at you, though. you of course couldn't tell because your eyes had closed before out of the extremity of what you were feeling. 

she looked serious, determined, but her eyes were still as dark as before. you blush at the sight of her face covered in your taste, your slick. her mouth opened, and you heard every word with such a heavy impact. “do not close your eyes again. i want to see your eyes, your face, at every moment. do you understand?”

your heart starts to race again, there was just something so inexplicable about the way her words made you feel. you nod your head, scared that if you spoke your words would be jumbled. she didn't accept it though, her voice changed, from demanding to mischievous. “you understand..? what do you understand, dear? how does it make you feel..? tell me how i make you feel.” 

you bite your lip, looking up at the ceiling. maybe you were throwing up a prayer that you wouldn't mess up, or maybe you were just trying to prepare yourself for what she wanted from you. her right hand slipped from your hip, and you didn't notice, so fixated on her request. you went to start speaking, but as you did, you felt her fingers inside of you. 

your head leaned back, and you closed your eyes. a hushed “fuck!”, was followed by a loud humming. she smirked, “what did i say about closing your eyes, baby?” 

you forced them open, forced them to lock their gaze down onto her own. you wanted to make her happy. you needed to please her just as badly as you needed her to make you cum. 

“i'm sorry, darling—” as you began again, her fingers started to pump inside of your pussy, and your mouth lay agape. she didn't stop, even as you took a moment to continue, and you took a deep breath. 

“you want me to look— oh, fuck.. god.” it was like she went faster with each word you spoke. you took note of her devilish grin, thinking that you'd someday get your revenge. “you want me to look at you, you want to see me when— shit!” your body flinches as she curls her digits inside you, her speed still gradually increasing. “come on, princess, you're doing so good” she whispered this against your clit, right before sucking it into her mouth again. 

you bit your lip and your hands pulled her by the hair, just giving you something to hold onto. “when i cum for you, when i'm just a puddle for you.. you want to see me when i take your fingers!” 

the words came out shaky, spaced between your moans and whimpers. her fingers started to go as fast as they could, and lilia lapped her tongue around your wet clit, stimulating every single part of your cunt. she was still looking at you. you held her gaze as you started to tremble, your body shaking as it came to the brink of an orgasm. 

you finished your thought, giving her what she asked of you. “it makes me feel like abandoning everything for you, to have you like this, every second, every moment.”

her eyes closed, and you watched her remain between your thighs. your body hit a climax, and your hips bucked up, your back arching. you yelled for her, her name. your eyes rolled to the back of your head and you bit your lip to muffle any further sounds as she fucked you through your orgasm. 

when you had came, your white fluid casing over her fingers, she pulled her mouth away from your clitoris. 

you, with your head still fuzzy, had managed to pull her back up to you by her hair. her lips were so wet because of you. you immediately pull her in to kiss you, tasting yourself on her tongue and lips. she pulled away, breaking the contact. her teeth captured your bottom lip and you sighed when she pulled it back. 

lilia’s lips started kissing your neck, and she brought them to your ear, whispering hushedly, “clean your pretty little mess, my love.” 

you whimper, and you open your lips, as she slips her two cum-covered fingers inside of your mouth. you suck off your fluid, and the growing wetness between your legs returns.

the older witch laughs, kissing your neck again. her lips find yours once more, and she kisses you like there is no other action in this world. her tongue invades your mouth, as she tastes the sweetness that remains. 

[fallstaticexit]

Prev / Next / Beginning / Pillowfort

AN: Next update will post Monday the 23rd , same time and same place! Going to start working on updating my game etc. <3

Transcript under the cut

Siobhan: There you are! Our guest of honor tucked away in the corner. You’re not hiding, are you?

Nancy: I never really liked crowds.

Siobhan: That won’t do, Nancy. Come. Lets chat.

Siobhan: You know, the way you handled Becca the other night is admirable. I wouldn’t have done anything less if it were my man she was pawing after.

Nancy: Listen, I’m not a violent person. I shouldn’t have hit her.

Siobhan: It hardly matters. It’s about respect.

Siobhan: You have the means to be the most powerful woman in the world. Your family runs a multi million dollar company. Your name is on every recognizable building across the globe. Girls like Becca will dream of the day they can write you a check so she can raise her brood of rowdy children in one of your flawlessly designed properties.

Siobhan: You’re a star, Nancy. It’s time you show everyone what it means to be a Landgraab. You can start by becoming a Theta.

Siobhan: By the way, your mother just arrived!

Nancy: Hello Mother.

Queenie: Nancy.

Nancy: Father couldn’t make it?

Queenie: No, I’m afraid he’s tied up in a prior engagement. Besides, I try not to bore him with my personal affairs. [murmurs] How provocative, these pieces.

Queenie: So you’ve made friends with the daughter of an adulterer. Is that what you thought would impress me? Well, at least she’s proactive. Your lack of involvement in any clubs or organizations shows just how lazy you are. It’s almost as if we’ve sent you to university to piss away our money yet again. When will you prove to me that you’re worth half the trouble you put your father and me through? And for the love of God, stop biting your nails! It’s disgusting.

Professor Munch: -right, Nancy?

Nancy: I’m sorry, what was that?

Professor Munch: This model is absolutely stunning! Marvelous, even.

Nancy: R-really? Thank you, Professor.

Professor Munch: Ah! No wonder! Your drawings are very compelling. The way you blend functionality with aesthetics is brillant! A true prodigy!

Professor Munch: I am very proud of you, Nancy. Keep it up.

Nancy: Hi Professor. I know I’m a little early for office hours, but I really wanted your thoughts on my blueprints.

Professor Munch: Nancy! Are you kidding! Anything for my star pupil. Take a seat.

Professor Munch: If I’m being honest, I don’t have much critique.

Nancy: Staying on top of my grades is really important to me. My GPA is 3.7 but I know I can do more to improve. I can do better-

Professor Munch: [huffs affectionately] Nancy! You are my brightest and best student! I’d say it’s in your blood. I haven’t seen such vision and passion in my student’s work since I taught your brother.

Nancy: Nathan was your student?

Professor Munch: Oh, Nathan was my star! In the short time I spent with him, he has shown me what true artistry looks like. That kid had an eye for detail. He always spoke so fondly of his little baby sister, Nan; he’d call you. [sighs] I miss him dearly.

Professor Munch: I thought of quitting and getting back into the field after he passed. I was devastated when I found out about the accident. My partner pushed me to continue teaching. She knew there was nothing I loved more than handing the tools to brillant kids like you and Nathan to shape our future.

Nancy: Partner? [frowns] Your...partner?

Professor Munch: Monica. We were roommates in college and have been stuck to each other like glue since!

Nancy: So, she’s your best friend?

Professor Munch: Oh certainly. My best friend, my muse, my partner.

Nancy: What about your husband?

Professor Munch: Husband?

Nancy: I- sorry. Nevermind.

Professor Munch: Talk to me, dear. What’s on your mind?

Nancy: I guess I don’t understand. You’re wearing a ring but you have no photos of your husband. You seem...close with her, in the photo.

Professor Munch: I was married once. We have three children together. Sweetest man alive. We’re still friends to this day. We both realized that we had our hearts in different places. In the end, I had my Monica. My soulmate.

Nancy: [sobs quietly]

Professor Munch: Oh, no. Nancy? Dear, are you alright?

Professor Munch: [softly] Oh, sweet darling. You’re hurting, aren’t you? Can I hold you? Is that ok?

Nancy: [nods once]

Professor Munch: You let it all out, you hear me? Just let it all out. I got you.

Nancy Narrates: [I wondered what kind of person I’d be had my mother held me like this]

Professor Munch: There’s a small club that I support that meets every Friday in the commons. I think you should stop by.

Nancy: Thank you Professor but, I think I’ve already decided to join a sorority.

Professor Munch: I’ll tell you what, it’s not something you have to join or commit to, but I think there’s something to gain by coming. Plus, there’s someone I’d like you to meet. You two have a lot in common.

Morgan: Holy shit, hey! It’s Nancy Landgraab! Get over here!

[hughiecampbelle]

The Boys Preference: Being Becca and Butchers Child

Requested: Firstly HAPPY BIRTHDAY GIRL!!!!!! ﾟ+.ヽ(≧▽≦)ﾉ.+ﾟ. Secondly, could u write like some headcanon about being Butcher's child (like who is two years older than Ryan) and how other members from the boys (+ maybe Soldier boy, cause of season 3 and how he would interact with them :3) - anon

A/N: Thank you my love!!! In the headcanon I made reader 10+ years older so they'd be at least 18 by the time they found out about Becca and Ryan, I hope you don't mind!! That way they can be part of The Boys and grow up with them, if that makes sense? I also had a very similar request of a headcanon so I'm basing it off that so there's some background :) I love this request!!! Feedback is always appreciated 💜💜💜

Headcanon Pt. 1 / Headcanon Pt. 2

Butcher knew he couldn't take care of you. He was getting drunk every night, picking fights at bars, searching the city for your mom. Your perfect grades were slipping, you were getting into fights at school, you were emulating him. He knew how dangerous that was. First with your Aunt, then your Great Aunt, until you tracked him down all these years later. He still has a picture of you in his wallet, a baby picture that's creased and faded. You and Becca. You've grown up since then, though. And you're angry. He insist you go back to Judy, pretend you never saw or heard what you did, but you refuse. You want to pick a fight with him. You want to yell and scream and get out eight years worth of grief. He understands where you're coming from, he does. He never wanted to be like his father and yet, in so many ways, that's exactly who he was. Your relationship will never be what it is. That's not possible anymore. You have to learn to deal with one another now, in the present, instead of the happy kid you used to be, instead of the dad he used to be. It hurts you both to think about the past, who you could have been instead of who you are.

Hughie isn't really sure what to do with you. There's no doubt you're Butcher's kid. He's still relatively new to the team, so he just assumed this was something else Butcher hadn't shared with him. When he realizes no one knew about your existence, he's shocked. You, like your father, gravitate towards Hughie for reasons you can't put into words. You'll let him sit next to you when you're watching TV and maybe even talk to him if you're in the right mood. You don't shoot daggers at him like you try with everyone else. Similar to a cat, he's someone you can stand to be around. He comes to your defense a lot, especially when you stumble in drunk and pass out for the day. He's sure if any of them had been raised by Butcher, or at least the outside relatives, they would have turned out exactly like you. He can't blame you for being angry, or pissed, or hurt. He can see the hurt better than anyone else no matter how much you try to hide it. He thinks you just need some time and empathy to get straightened out. The least they can do is offer that, right?

Annie has no idea what to do with you. She tried smiling and talking to you, but you didn't want anything to do with her. She reminds you too much of your Aunt. She always said you should be happier, bubblier, that you were so smiley as a kid. You couldn't live in the past like her, with her. Too much had changed. Hughie assures her it's nothing against her, you're just getting used to things. She thinks it's sweet how you're attracted to Hughie. He's the only one you mildly respect and even, once in a blue moon, listens to. She doesn't take it too personally considering you're ready to rip your fathers head off. It could be a lot worse. Over time you see that Annie and Hughie are together and that definitely earns her some points. Annie can't imagine what your life must have looked like, all those years mourning your mother and father, all those years spent with relatives just doing their best. She understood why you were so angry all the time, so cagey and spiky. She doesn't hold it against you.

M.M. feels conflicted. Betrayed isn't the right word, but it's the closest thing he can come up with. He never 100% trusted Butcher. He was always going behind everyone's backs, doing what he wanted despite the good of the team, etc. He was destructive, combative, and spiteful. But, he thought they knew each other better than that. When he met you he couldn't deny you were Butcher's. Your mannerisms, the crazed look in your eye when you were upset, it all matched your father. He can't help but see you like how he sees Janine, even if you're much older: a victim of Vought. A generational curse. You're stubborn, and angry, and distant all because of what's been done to you, all because of Homelander. If your mom had been around, if Homelander had never done what he'd done, you'd still have your perfect family. He feels this need to protect you the same way he does with your father, even if you both fight him on it, even if you don't want or deserve it. He can't help it.

Frenchie doesn't trust you the same way he doesn't trust your father. He especially doesn't like that you and Kimiko are so close. She doesn't tell him anything about your conversations, knowing it would completely break your trust if she did. He believes Butcher would hide something as big and important as a child. He knows what your family can be like. Lying, drunken, selfish, vengeful. You're only a few of those things, not that he can tell the difference. You know Frenchie isn't your biggest fan, so you love messing with him, teasing him, rubbing it in his face that you and Kimiko are close. Similar to your father, Frenchie thinks this isn't the kind of place for you. You have no idea what you're getting yourself into. M.M. might feel fatherly towards you, but Frenchie sees you as a Mini Butcher, just another handful no one on the team can deal with. You yell and scream and fight and drink. That proves to him you're still a child despite it all.

Kimiko adores you. Despite the difference in circumstances, she sees a lot of herself in you. Ripped from your family, angry and hostile and doing everything in your power not to get hurt again. Besides Hughie, you'd warm up to her second. You're actually incredibly smart despite never applying yourself and pick up the signs pretty quickly. Whatever you can't sign, you write to her, wanting your conversations to stay secret. You show her the pictures of your mom that you kept all these years, telling her all about the good times you had before she disappeared. When you see Butcher you instantly grow hostile, angry all over again, and the person she saw, the person she was just talking to who was kind, and thoughtful, and smart totally disappears. When you blast your angry music she never minds. In fact, she quite likes it, adding it to her own playlist. She doesn't look at you like you need fixing or, worse, need to get out of here.

Bonus! Homelander always knew about you. Becca was more than willing to talk about you and Billy to co-workers. He even remembers taking that picture with you that one Christmas. He's kept an eye on you through the years, but you never seemed like the vengeful type. You never knew what happened after your father abandoned you. He does, however, use it as leverage against Becca. Remember the kid you left behind? Seems like she's got favorites. Becca agonizes over leaving you, but she was caught between a rock and a hard place. He uses you to keep her there, in her place. He gives her updates, usually to make her feel bad. You're kid drinks way too much, did you know that? Of course you didn't. He loves to tell her that Butcher abandoned you all those years ago. He loves to see that it absolutely kills her. He's not worried about you coming after him. You've got to work through your issues before you get to him and therapy for a lifetime couldn't get you an Butcher on the same page.

Bonus! Soldier Boy would actually get along with you. I think you'd have a Worst Dad Competition and though you're close, you definitely think you win. You two share a drink and you tell him all about your dear old dad. "No wonder you turned out like this." Ben says, pouring you more. Hughie urges you to slow down, but you have a high tolerance. Ben, to piss of Butcher, will always take your side in arguments and uses what you told him against him. "You dumped them off and never looked back. Now you're parenting?" Butcher absolutely hates it. You tell him about your mom, how much she loved you, how she was killed. You don't mention Ryan though, knowing Ben's go to answer would be to seek revenge. You have a lot of complicated feelings around your brother, but you still have a burning Hatred for Homelander. You make Ben promise he'll kill him. He does, even if it means killing his son. You two bond really fast. Neither Hughie nor Butcher trusts it or him, but you do.

[becca-e-barnes]

Ma’am, you are deviously incredible 🔥 We’re begging for an exploration of him saying “I love you” while fucking her like he doesn’t 🥹

My brain keeps picking up the storyline a few splendidly torturous hours in when her body’s completely spent & quivering & she’s a blubbering mess & that’s when he picks her up & takes his sweet time positioning her so she can limply yet eagerly watch their reflection has he finally gives her… exactly what her twitching body’s been craving. 🥵

I'm so glad you all enjoyed the thought of this as much as I did because I've been dying to expand on it 😵‍💫 (Part 1 here)

I like to imagine by that stage, he's absolutely desperate too though. He's got to feel your sweet little pussy clench and flutter around him, contracting so tight every time you cum that he swears it's going to be the end of him.

He's been too hard for too long, buried inside your body and he swears he's never felt you this wet or this hot before. It's been fucking luxurious, forcing you to cum against his fingers, feeling how your body's natural reaction is to coax him to drain his balls into you but that alone isn’t enough. He needs more than that.

He wouldn't admit it to you but he can't take any more. His balls feel like they're fizzing; overfull and beyond ready to flood your waiting, overstimulated body.

He arranges you gently, laying you on your front because he doesn't trust your trembling arms to support you. "That's it, good girl." He coos, hearing you whimper and sob pathetically because he needs to slip out of you to slide a pillow under your hips.

"You've made such a mess." He groans, taking a second to appreciate the delicious, inviting, slick little cunt he's about to indulge in. "You're dripping, sweetheart. God, I just know there's no way I'm going to be able to pull out."

His huge hands are gripping your hips and with one sharp, brutal thrust, he's back inside you and you both sob pathetically at the feeling of your bodies being joined again. This is exactly what you've needed but you don't have the words to tell him that. All you can do is whine and will your body not to cum again so soon.

"I meant. What I said earlier." He punctuates his sentence with soft groans, drawing back until he almost slips out of you before pounding back in.

He leans forward, tilting your chin up, making sure you can see the way he's fucking you in the mirror at the end of the bed.

"I love you. And I don't want you to forget that." He sounds sincere, one hand trailing up from the small of your back to right between your shoulder blades and then back down again. It feels intimate and tender but all that is forgotten by the very next thrust.

"I love you. But for now, you're just a mindless. Little. Drooling. Breedable. Cunt for me." He slows his thrusts down, determined not to cum so soon but it's going to be difficult to last until he gets the first couple of loads out of the way.

"Baby..." You whimper, feeling the tip of his cock nudge against your sweet spot, making you shake from overstimulation.

"I know sweetheart, I know. It's too much. But you're being so good for me. You're so perfect. How have no idea how you feel. So wet and warm and I can feel you fluttering around my cock. It's like you're trying to squeeze every last drop of cum out of me. Is that what you want? Because angel, I'll keep this delicious cunt stuffed full of load after load until I have nothing left to give you."

His thrusts are punishingly fast, thumping against your raised ass, half chasing his orgasm, half holding it back.

"And when I do, I'll remind you just how much I love you. And the baby I'm going to give you tonight."

With that thought, he can't stop himself from cumming, his dick twitching inside you as he shoots thick ropes of his seed right against your cervix. You're so cock-drunk you can only rut yourself millimetres back and forth but that's all you need to send yourself spiralling into another orgasm that leaves you trembling and sobbing.

"Fuck, you want that as much as I do, don't you?" He kisses the back of your neck, breathing you in while letting the euphoric rush subside. He notices he hasn't softened in the slightest despite such an intense orgasm but he knows he needs to be gentle with you for a moment before he can get any rougher.

[amirasainz]

Obsessed with your fics! Could you please do she’s sick and the drivers and wags fuss over her and acting like she’s gonna die when it’s just a cold?

Hi guys. Sorry for not posting anything for such a long time. I was so busy with school and travelling and didn't really have the motivation to write anything. Hope you all enjoy reading this and you can always send me some requests. -XoXo

______________________________________________

Flu-Season

Amira’s bout of the common flu had her feeling utterly miserable. Like any sick princess, she knew there was only one thing to do: call her brother.

Carlos wasted no time whisking her off to the doctor’s office. His nervous energy filled the waiting room, and if it weren’t for Rebecca holding Amira’s hand, she might have fainted from the dizzying pace of her older brother’s pacing.

The doctor’s diagnosis—common flu—elicited tears from Rebecca and a dramatic faint from Carlos. Back home at the Sainz-Donalds residence, Amira found herself cocooned in warmth. Five blankets enveloped her, a cute sea otter stuffed animal nestled beside her, and the couple—Carlos and Rebecca—lying on either side of her.

After an hour of sleep, Amira stirred to the gentle touch of someone stroking her hair. Opening her eyes, she met Carmen’s friendly gaze. “Hey, darling. How are you feeling?” Carmen whispered. “Why are we whispering?” Amira croaked. “We don’t want to wake the others,” Carmen replied.

Taking in her surroundings, Amira’s heart swelled. Kika and Rebecca laid at the foot of the bed, Kelly held her tightly from behind, and Leo and Roscoe each guarded near her head.

Emotions overwhelmed her, and tears welled up. “No, don’t cry, honey,” soothed Kelly, who had woken up as Amira shifted. Both Carmen and Kelly gently lulled the crying girl back to sleep. As Amira drifted off again, Carmen whispered to Kelly, “She truly is our brave girl.”

Meanwhile, in the living room:

“Gentlemen, pay very careful attention,” Carlos began. “Today, we’re gathered here to ensure that MY sister recovers faster than any Formula 1 car.”

Seated before him were Charles, Lando, Lewis, Pierre, Max, and George—each looking like picture-perfect soldiers. Carlos assumed the role of sergeant, addressing them with authority. A whiteboard displayed a timetable with different names and times.

“Max, you and Kelly will take Amira for a walk around 3 p.m. Charles and Lewis, dinner duty in 40 minutes. The rest of us will clean the bedroom. Carmen and Becca will assist with her shower, whil—”

“I can help her shower,” Lando interrupted. The room fell silent; all eyes turned to Lando, his hand raised. Carlos approached him, predator-like. “Lando Norris. Listen carefully, because I’ll say this only once. You’ll never come near my sister again if you keep talking like that. Do you hear me?” His final words were a whispered threat. Carlos waited for Lando’s nod of understanding.

“As I said before, Carmen and Rebecca…”

[daydreamingleclerc]

corrupt // mason mount

in which; he’s the university’s superstar sports player, and you’re just an innocent little bookworm. he walks you home one night after commotion in the street and you can’t help but offer him inside.

includes; corruption kink, uncomfortable cat calling, master manipulation, excessive usage of pet names (it gets annoying, sorry), dom!mason, sub!reader, foul language, fingering, oral (m, f rec), choking, protected sex, squirting, swearing, a sprinkle of CNC.

i was listening to sk8er boi by avril lavigne and it spiraled into this. i’m not sorry. thanks @landopeaches for helping me w all the ideas and being there to lust over mason with throughout the process <3

this is filthy. and just under 10K words. please read at your own risk. don’t say i didn’t want you.

22:04. 

the library didn’t normally stay open this late on friday nights, especially during the week of varsity, but you had a way with words and a very appreciated knack for batting your eyelashes.  

“i think it’s-” 

“-ssh, i'm writing,” you held a hand up to your housemate and best friend, becca, as you finished your train of thought before your new column ultimately came crashing to a halt, “okay, continue.”  

she sat beside you, flicking through a book she clearly had no interest in. she’d given up on her sociology assignment long ago, as had savannah, who was now half asleep on one of the sofa’s further down the room. aside from the odd one or two chess club players downstairs, you were the only three in there.  

“i think it’s probably a good idea for us to get going,” becca hummed, and much to your distaste, savannah had never been happier. “it’s ten p.m on a friday night, y/n, why don’t we all go pick up some food and watch a movie?”  

savannah had already gotten her jacket on and slipped her bag over her shoulder. she didn’t need anymore persuasion.  

“you guys go ahead,” you responded, wiggling with the mouse of your laptop as the screen dimmed, “i’ll catch up soon, i just have to finish this section of next weeks column,” becca scowled at you and before she could open her mouth, you eased her racing thoughts, “becca, i'll be fine. just pick me something and i'll pay you back later. i promise i'll be home before eleven.”  

the house that the three of you lived in with two of your other housemates was only a short walk away from campus and that gave you roughly forty minutes to finish up this segment. savannah yawned and becca still looked unimpressed.  

“you’d better be,” she picked her bag up off the back of her chair and slid it on her shoulder. she left a kiss on the top of your head, “because if i find your dead body in a back alley tomorrow morning, i'll kill you.”  

“charming,” savannah yawned. “love you, y/n.”  

“love you.” becca gave you a reluctant wave as she walked down the stairs of the library.  

you didn’t leave long after the girls and as you exited the warmth of the library and walked out into the crisp april chill, you regretted not bringing a thicker jacket to cocoon yourself as you walked home. blaring music came from all angles, as did the stares and wandering eyes.  

it was clear to all eyes you weren’t making your way to or from a party, dressed in a white sundress with cherries printed on the fabric and a white knitted cardigan. the pockets of the cardigan gaped with just your mobile phone, id and house keys inside them – you'd rented out a locker for the night to keep your laptop safe rather than dragging it back home and threatening to drop it.  

as you turned the corner onto the main loop of on-campus flats, your palms grew sweaty. you had to pass the flats and walk across the courtyard – which was full of spillover students itching to go out to either one of the clubs in town – to get to the back gate so you could slip out into the car park and cross into your estate to get home.  

a drunken body bumped into you as you crossed the road, and in turn your phone fell out of your hand as you tripped up the curb. you managed to steady yourself but unfortunately for you, your little stumble had caught the eye of a small group of drunken boys.  

“hey sugar, you look lost, fancy coming up here with us?”  

you didn’t recognize any of them, which was unusual considering they looked like the kind of boys who did sports, and you were a columnist in the university newspaper. you only did two sports columns a month, and the rest were focused on arts media – which was your degree, after all – because of that, you knew everybody.  

you knew you should’ve responded, told them to fuck off, or at least say no; but you didn’t. you froze. all you did was shake your head, and when they got closer your legs began to speed up.  

“hey, i was talking to you,” the same voice echoed, “don’t walk away from me when i'm just trying to have a conversation.”  

you fought off the urge to throw up. confrontation was something you despised, especially in front of a big crowd. “are you deaf?” the voice shouted, clearly agitated now, and you could hear it getting closer and closer until it was virtually behind you.  

mason, one of the school’s star ex-students and most glorified alumni noticed the commotion going on in the courtyard. luckily enough, he was stood with a friend who was smoking outside in a small congregation of people waiting to head to another party. he recognized you from the times you’d sat out on the pitch during games with your notepad and fluffy pink pen, that would always get dampened when the inevitable rain kicked in. he had a lot of time for you, even if you had no idea.  

“i’m offering you sex on a plate here, love-”  

“-gareth, piss off.”  

your heart felt like it was pounding out of your chest in that moment, and when a familiar face stepped out of the shadows, you let out a puff of air. your eyes caught mason’s, and immediately he rushed over to you.  

“y/n, are you okay?” his hand rested softly on your shoulder and massaged the hot flesh of your skin in an attempt to calm you. he waited for you to nod, and wrapped an arm around your shoulder, “you’re freezing, do you want to borrow my jacket?”  

you shook your head and couldn’t help getting lost in the way he got the boys to mutter an apology and scramble away with their tails – dicks – between their legs.  

“where are you off to?”  

“uh, i, um,” you pinched the bridge of your nose and tried to compose your thoughts. in the three years you’d known mason, he’d never once touched you this way. a complimentary nod of the head after a quick post-match interview or a stolen glance in the hall followed by a soft smile were all the emotional bridges you’d built together. “i'm on my way home.”  

mason gestured to his friends to go on without him as he continued to walk with an arm around your shoulder. “i’ll walk you home, babe, okay?” he hooked his thumb under your chin and got you to look over at him, “i’ve just got to stop off at a party and show my face for ten minutes, whereabouts do you live?”  

“uh, forty-two goodwood drive.” your voice came out quieter than expected, and mason hummed, nodding his head when his lips formed a smile.  

“perfect, the parties at twenty-eight goodwood drive, we can stop off there for ten minutes, have a drink and then i can walk you to the door.”  

“we?” you frowned, “i'm not good with big crowds, mason.”  

he tutted, “that’s a lie, remember last year when you stood up in front of all the freshers with that powerpoint on how they could join the school newspaper?”  

you were shocked he remembered that, and it took you a minute to compute his words and formulate a response. “that was different, it was work related,” a knot formed between your eyebrows and that usual smirk had found its way back to mason’s face. it seemed to be a permanent feature. “honestly, mason. it's fine, i can walk myself home.”  

“no, darling. i've said i'll walk you home, please,” he stopped to look at you for a minute, and the knot between your eyebrows released as if subconsciously, “let me at least walk you home.”  

it flattered you that mason mount of all people was willing to walk you home. not even men you dated offered to do that. and he had almost begged you.  

“if you insist.”  

he patted your shoulder with the tips of his fingers and you began walking again, safe in the cage of his arm. 

“atta girl.”  

22:50 

it seemed to be a night of firsts.  

for the first time, the campus celebrities, as becca called them, had allowed you into their party as if you were one of their own. mason had poured you a drink and you held the red cup between both hands to hide the shakes. you wanted to say they’d come on because of the drunken cat calling, but you knew on the surface it was because mason was keeping you close.  

you were thankful, nobody really knew you at this party other than maybe two people, one of them being mason. it was clear you were uncomfortable; the push and shove of drunken antics wasn’t something you were particularly used to. you knew your limits, and at the grand old age of twenty-three, you expected everybody else to know theirs, too.   

it seemed, wherever mason was, a flock of people followed. he had his very own fan club. mason was already a student when you’d arrived, he'd graduated university from his sports science combined course a year early because he was scouted by a football agent and now he was off playing league football and crushing it, you had to admit. he still had a lot of friends here and came back semi-regularly to join in on the parties and sex. 

the pair of you sat down on a plush suede sofa, and he noticed you checking your watch for the time. you’d been twiddling your thumbs at this party as mason’s impromptu plus one for twenty-five minutes, and you anxiously tapped your fingers on your knees. you were supposed to be home in seven minutes.  

“whats up, princess?”  

your cheeks heated up at the use of his constant pet names, but this one seemed to take the cake. “i told my housemates i'd be back at the house for eleven.”  

when he flashed that signature mason smirk that you found yourself fawning over for months, the familiar knot formed between your eyebrows. “you can allow yourself to be a little bit late, darling,” mason’s expression then mimicked yours, “do they keep tabs on you like they own you or something?”  

his question took you by surprise. it was the first proper rude thing he’d said to you all night, and that’s how you expected him to be around you, but so far, he was everything but. “i’m kidding,” he suppressed a chuckle and scooted closer, “just tell them you’re gonna be a little late, babe. don't worry, you’re safe with me.”  

he shot you a wink, and it sent butterflies swarming around your body and wetness pooling in your underwear. this was probably the most turned on a man had ever made you, and he hadn’t even touched you, or said anything remotely sexual. 

before mason could open his mouth, a boy you vaguely recognized as someone from the hockey team slid over and sat on the corner of the coffee table. immediately, they got into conversation, and you found yourself once again admiring the way he held himself. you snapped out of it almost instantly. 

“who's the girl then, mase? got yourself a new toy?” 

“his new what?”  

“got myself a new what?”  

yours and mason’s questions overlapped, and immediately his friend could sense that what he said was wrong. he wasn’t sure whether to laugh or apologize, and then he saw mason’s expression and chose the latter. he scurried off, and you placed your cup down on the coffee table in front of you.  

“i think i should just go,” as you went to get up, mason grabbed your wrist and you caught one another's eyes, “mason, please.”  

he pleaded with his eyes to get you to stay, “don’t listen to anything dom says, sweetheart,” mason scowled in his direction and dom couldn’t help but keep flickering his eyes over at the pair of you in regret, “he doesn’t know his brains from his balls, and that’s why he’s on the hockey team.”  

he pulled a laugh from your lips and it immediately put him at ease.  

“promise you won’t listen?” his hand brushed your knee, and you fought every inebriated urge you had to not pounce on him.  

“mhm, i promise, mason,” you smiled, placing your hand on top of his. he smiled and scooted closer ever so slightly, “thank you.”  

“good girl,” his words ignited a flame inside of your stomach, and the wet patch inside your underwear grew significantly. you'd never been called those words before, and he knew what he was doing when the knowing smirk grew. “would you like another drink?”  

“yes, please,” you squeezed your legs together when his fingers brushed closer as he stood up, and he knew how he made you feel within seconds. you grabbed his fingers as he lifted them from your leg. you looked so innocent he could’ve exploded. “don’t be too long, please.”  

“you’re so cute when you’re clingy,” he watched as your cheeks lit up in heat, “i'll only be over there. two minutes, tops.”  

eleven o'clock had been and gone. becca and savannah had tried to ring multiple times to stick their noses in and find out what was going on, but you’d be leaving soon, and once mason had walked you to the door, they’d be all yours to gossip with.  

you shifted in your spot, and tried to peel yourself off the sofa without distracting mason from his conversation with somebody you didn’t recognize at all, but it was unsuccessful. “where are you going, babe?”  

“i need to pee,” you shifted again, and got up successfully without mason stopping you. he finished his conversation abruptly and you almost rolled your eyes, “where are the toilets?”  

“i’ll take you.”  

“i don’t need you to be my bodyguard, mason. just tell me where the toilets are and i'll go on my own.”  

his lip quirked up into a hint of a smile. you got sassy when you’d had a drink. that boded well for him and his everlasting thoughts of you in compromising positions.  

“darling, with all due respect you don’t know anybody here and i don’t want you wandering,” he finished the dregs of his drink, “i'll take you and then we can leave, c’mon, give me your drink.”  

“why?”  

“because i don’t want people seeing you holding it and it getting spiked, c’mon.” 

you gave in rather easily and handed mason your half-full cup with a thoughtful smile. you hadn’t gone for a wee since before you left the library, and now you’d been holding it for a while it was something of a relief to be going. he took you to another bathroom, one in a less quiet part of the house. he had clearly been here multiple times before.  

“you’re not gonna come in with me too, are you?”  

“depends,” mason shrugged, “are you offering?”  

you swatted his arm with a friendly punch, even though a part of you wanted to say yes and have him take you then and there in the bathroom. the door unlocked and a couple walked out, hair in disarray and clothes mismatched. brilliant.  

“you just wait at the door, big guy.” 

it stank of weed and sex in the room as you homed in on your surroundings as you peed. what started out as a stressful night had soon become enjoyable, and all thoughts of anxiety you had before you arrived at the party had washed away. you couldn’t hear mason at the door, even though you wouldn’t have been able to anyway because of the thumping bass; but you half expected him to be gone by the time you opened the door.  

you wiped your hands on your dress and smoothed over your hair in the mirror. your mascara smudged in both corners of your eyes, and you cleaned it up, merging the outer smudges into your eyeliner. mason was stood with a soft smile on his face when you walked out, and you mimicked it, “i expected you to have found someone better to spend your evening with, thank you for waiting.” 

“better than you?” he handed you your cardigan, the one you didn’t even realize you were missing, and you slipped your arms into it, “impossible, darling.”  

you blushed again and covered your face with your hands, suppressing a delicate giggle from masons ears. he made sure the cardigan was on your shoulders, and a shiver trickled down your spine when he pulled your hair out, so it wasn’t trapped between fabrics.  

“okay princess, finish your drink,” he handed you the cup and you downed it in one, trusting him enough in that moment to know that he wouldn’t spike it, and he raised his eyebrows, impressed, “all in one, good girl.”  

your mind raced at the dirty scenario echoing through it, and heat pooled all over your body. you were honestly surprised you couldn’t feel your own slick on your thighs. nobody had ever made you feel like this before, and mason loved the hold he had on your achingly innocent persona. you subconsciously bit your lip and mason fought off a guttural moan.  

“what’s with that expression, darling, hm? was it something i said?”  

you opened your mouth to react, but he pinched your hip, laughed and wrapped an arm around your shoulders once again, the pair of you wandering down the hall like nobody's business. 

he checked the time on your watch as you walked, lifting up your wrist as if it were a feather, and pulled a faux shocked face at the time. “oh dear, sweetheart,” he tutted, “eleven eighteen, your owners will be waiting up for you.”  

you rolled your eyes at his jab, the second rude one of the night. one more and you’d be summoning up the courage to punch him in the face.  

“they aren’t my owners, mason. they're my friends and they care.”  

the two of you stepped out into the cold night air, your nipples hardening against the lace of your bra and scratching against the cotton of your dress. your thighs immediately came up in goosebumps and the cold was a nice juxtaposition to the heat pulsing your clit.  

“so you’ve never submitted to anyone, darling?” he asked, shoving his free hand in his jacket pocket, ignoring the crowds of people wandering the streets and girls throwing up in bushes, “let them take complete ownership of you? let yourself go?”  

his words shot straight to your core. you fumbled for a reply.  

“uh, no, i.. um, i don’t think so.”  

stupid reply.  

“you don’t think so? oh, sweetheart. you'd know if you did,” as you got closer to your house, a swarm of longing pulled at your chest and you yearned for him now, in a way you’d never yearned for anybody in your life. “but then again, you’ve never tried it with me.”  

the last part was muttered, and you could barely hear it.  

“what?” you whined, the short, abrupt question coming out in a far more sexual tone than necessary.  

“nothing for you to worry about darling,” he patted your cheek softly, “look, you’re home now.”  

you half expected him to fall back on his promise, to walk away now and leave you high and dry. to leave you to sort out the mess he’d created, but you’d yearn for more than just the touch of your own fingertips or the ripple of a vibrator. you just didn’t know how to ask him. 

he walked you right up to the door, as he said he would.  

“thank you, mason,” you smiled. everything inside of you screamed to ask if he wanted to come inside, but when you opened your mouth, you just found the question too overwhelming. “i... uh...” 

“what’s up darling?” he questioned, “don’t be shy. use your words.”  

he smirked at the way you shivered. there was that feeling between your legs. again.  

“do you... um. will you come in?”  

he couldn’t help but lean across to kiss you. your lips soft against his slightly rough ones, and your hands flew up to his chest and your palms rested on the warmth of his white shirt. he kissed by the book, exactly how you imagined he would, and when he took your bottom lip between his teeth and swiped his tongue along it, you yelped.  

you were too innocent, like bubble wrap left unpopped. he wanted to corrupt you from the inside out.  

his dick hardened in his jeans. 

“want me to make sure that you get into bed safe?” you nodded and his thumb brushed your bottom lip, and in a bold move you took it into your mouth and circled your tongue around it. you'd never done that to anybody in your life. it even shocked you.  

“god,” mason groaned, finding the doorhandle with his free hand, “such an obedient little girl, hm?”  

23:27 

when becca and savannah saw mason standing in their hallway with a playboy smirk dressed over his face and a charm they just couldn’t resist, they couldn’t quite believe it. it boded worse for you in the long run, because they now saw with their own eyes that he was standing in your hallway, and they would be pacing around the livingroom until he left in the early hours so they could finally get their answers. becca was on the netball team, so mason recognized her.  

“hey, becca,” he hummed, as effortlessly as ever. as if he didn’t just make out with you on your own damn porch. “still playing netball?”  

she towered over him, her five-foot twelve slim frame was the perfect one for netball and she used it to her advantage, even if she wasn’t that good at the sport.  

“mhm,” she nodded, snapping out of her trance for a minute. savannah was still simply stood next to becca in awe, “thanks for bringing y/n home.”  

“it was my pleasure,” he looked at you and smiled, and your entire body rocked with heat. “she’s asked me to stick around for an hour or two, if that’s okay with you two, of course?”  

you couldn’t help the little smirk that quipped at the corners of your mouth and you hid your face in his bicep. mason was playing into the joke he’d made earlier at becca and savannah being your owners. the pair of them nodded, and mason looked over at you.  

“where’s your bedroom, darling?”  

savannah almost choked when she heard the pet name.  

“uh, top floor on the left,” his hand ran down your arm and his fingers entwined with yours as he walked to the stairs, and once again you tugged on his fingers, “would you like some tea?”  

mason's mind raced. your innocence really wasn’t an act. he wanted to pity you, or patronize you, or build up an orgasm until it bubbled up inside of you and you squeaked and squealed and thrashed around in his arms until you begged him to let you cum. his dick grew again, but he just smiled.  

“sure, darling,” he squeezed your fingers, “milk and two sugars, please.”  

you nodded and watched as he walked straight up to the top floor of the house. you averted both becca and savannah’s eyes as you walked past them through into the kitchen. pizza boxes sat on the counter, with one unopened for you.  

“what the fuck was all that about?” savannah questioned.  

you unintentionally ignored her, to focused on drowning out the slick between your legs. nobody had ever made you feel this way, nobody had ever left you as needy or as desperate for sex as he had. in all fairness, you’d only had sex with one person, and it wasn’t even that good.  

becca snapped her fingers in front of your eyes and you zoned back into the conversation. you smiled.  

“oh, uh, he walked me home and we got to talking,” you shrugged as you pulled the milk from the fridge, “turns out we get on well, so i invited him in.”  

“go y/n,” savannah clapped her hands together, “finally got a sexu-” 

“-bye girls, thanks for the pizza!”  

as you juggled with two cups of tea and the box of unopened pizza, mason walked into your kitchen. he'd already made himself at home, it seemed, seeing as his jacket and shoes were back up in your bedroom. “need some help, princess?” he asked, and when the pet name arose again you blushed heavily, and mason took the pizza box from your hand, “see you girls later.”  

23:52 

“i’m so boring, aren’t i?”  

you asked him. you couldn’t help it.  

you were sat between his legs and watching a movie on your teeny tiny tv screen at the foot of your bed. mason's eyebrows furrowed and he stroked at the skin on your arm. he couldn’t help but kiss the back of your head.  

“not at all, darling. why do you say that?”  

you shrugged, too embarrassed to answer. sex never came easy to you, you were the stereotypical bookworm student. you stayed out of trouble, you did your assignments and handed them in way before they were due. you were co-editor of the student newspaper, for fucks sake. you weren't the kind of girl that brought home hot, sexy, god-like alumni into her bedroom on friday nights just for a hook up.  

mason knew that, and it was all part of the reason you enamored him.  

“i’m not... i just... i'm... frigid.”  

mason tutted and tucked some hair behind your ear, “you aren’t frigid, darling. you just need someone to loosen you up a little bit, someone to answer to, don’t you?”  

you felt his dick grow harder underneath you, and it sent a shiver up your spine. you nodded, and mason spun your head around, so you were looking at him. his breath was hot on your face and you heaved for a breath when his fingers found your thighs.  

“there’s so much i wish i could do to you, little one,” you gulped audibly, a shaky, hot breath, “but i won’t do it if you aren’t ready.”  

“w-what.. um, w-what do you want to do?”  

mason's fingers grazed higher and higher up your leg, and he was painstakingly close to the sticky slick on your inner high thighs.  

“i want to do so much to you, darling, but i fear if i tell you, you’ll break my heart,” his fingers grazed at the soaked cotton of your pants and he laughed lowly, “but then again, if i tell you, it might make you wetter than you have been all night.”  

you mewled when he dragged his finger between your folds over your underwear. you opened your mouth to ask him a question, but he shushed it with his free hand, bringing the tip of his index finger to the middle of your plump lips. “is this the first time you’ve been touched here, darling?” you shook your head. “yes? no? use your words.”  

“n-no, mason.”  

“you’re not a virgin?”  

“shockingly, no,” your sarcastic comment left mason pinching your clit over your underwear and you yelped, “i’ve had sex once before.”  

“just once?” he questioned, and watched the way your body writhed when he finally pushed the damp cotton aside to stroke your clit. he could’ve growled at the feeling of your pussy in his hand. “oh, darling, you’ve got so much to learn.”  

mason's fingers worked expertly on your clit, and you couldn’t help but widen your legs. he certainly found it with ease, which is more than you can say for the guy you lost your virginity to. you lifted your hips and mason helped you wriggle free from the cotton restraint, and his mouth was watering at the thought of your bare, naked pussy. he wanted to scoot around and lick it.  

“was he good, baby?” mason asked, lips nibbling along the outer shell of your ear. “did he touch your clit like this, hm? or did he -” with his free hand, mason rubbed at your nipples through your dress and bra, “- roll your nipples like this? hm?”  

you wriggled around and let his fingers explore your body, itching to let him touch you more. “n-no, mason. he didn’t touch me like this.”  

mason tutted, “come on, baby, what did he do?”  

“he used me to make himself feel good,” you hummed, getting more and more used to the fact that he was swirling your clit around with his fingers, “i didn’t enjoy anything.” 

“such a shame, darling. you're gonna be used to make me feel good, but i promise you’ll enjoy it because i know how to handle innocent little girls like you,” he kissed your neck, “i was hoping to be the first person to bury myself inside your pretty little cunt, but i'll just have to be the first to do everything else.” he chuckled lowly at the way your breath hitched, and when he slapped your clit it made you jolt.  

“did he ever make you cum?”  

you shook your head.  

“n-no, mason.”  

another clit slap.  

“why are you slapping me?” you pouted, “have i done something wrong?” 

the confusion was evident on your face. you couldn’t figure out why he was slapping you, and the crease between your eyebrows formed. mason’s hand moved from your chest to your chin and turned your face to his. “are you going to address me by my name like a good girl?”  

the crease deepened and mason couldn’t help but laugh at you, and you frowned.  

“w-what?”  

“are you going to be a good girl for daddy?” your heart almost jumped out of your chest. your eyes grew a shade darker with lust and mason didn’t go unnoticed. he slapped your pussy again. “answer, princess.”  

“d-daddy?” you questioned, and mason almost blew a load in his pants.  

“mhm, yes princess. understood?”  

you nodded your head. “yes, daddy. thank you, daddy.” 

he rolled his eyes and released a groan, unable to suppress it any longer, and now he could feel a wet patch of pre-cum forming in his pants. “fucking hell, babygirl, you’re gonna be the death of me, aren’t you?” he shifted, and moved so you were now sitting against the headboard and he was staring down at you. he got down to his knees, the way his breath hitched when he was face to face with your pussy made your back tingle. “do you want me to eat this pretty little cunt?”  

“uh.. uhm.. okay,” you hesitated. mason noticed and began to massage your thighs with his fingers, digging into the soft flesh. “i’ve never... um. nobody has ever...”  

“relax, princess, i'll make you feel good. it's all part of daddy’s job to look after his little girl.”  

a rush of blood swarmed to your clit and you moaned softly at his words. he was corrupting you already. he traced the cherries on the hem of your dress, “these are pretty fruits, baby, can you tell me what they are?”  

he began to kiss your inner thighs in that moment.  

“uhm, they’re cherries, d-daddy.”  

“mhm, well done darling,” you wriggled when his teeth sunk into the flesh of your thigh, but he soon soothed the sting when his tongue ran over it, and it formed a pretty mark of his teeth, “tell you what, princess. if anything gets too much – today, or ever – in one of these situations, you just say cherries, just like the ones on your pretty dress.” 

you nodded, but you were still confused. “why do i have to say cherries though?”  

“because, baby, sometimes your brain won’t be working properly and you’ll need a distinct word that means stop, do you understand?” you nodded again, and mason’s fingers traced your pussy again. he wasn’t looking at you now, his attention had been drawn to your clit, red and aching, but he was still talking. “it’s easier for daddy to pick up on that word rather than stop, baby, because sometimes i won’t be listening. i need to make sure you’re safe.”  

“w-why?” you could feel his fingers swirling around your inner lips and you fought every urge for a moan. 

“because, you’re my submissive, and as your dominant, i have a duty of care over you.”  

you shivered at that. your head was spinning so fast it felt like it was going to fall off. mason's tongue had darted out of his mouth and licked at your clit, you jolted, but he didn’t put it away. instead, wherever your hips dragged you, he followed, his lips never leaving your clit. his tongue flicked repetitively, and his lips suctioned around it, sucking at your clit as if he were drinking through a straw. 

as you wriggled, mason's arms caged your hips down onto the bed, so now you were unable to wriggle away and you cried out his name in a weak, pathetic little moan. he pulled off of your clit with a pop, “oh, babygirl,” he tutted, “you can do better than that for me, can’t you? i know you can.”  

he licked a teasing stripe up your pussy and delved around your hole, where his tongue slipped inside and you yelped, bucking your hips up into his face and crying out his name again. “oh, mason... oh.. fu- your tongue.. feels so good,” the sensation tingling away inside of you was one you’d never felt during sex before, and the pad of a tongue licking and lapping at your clit felt particularly strange. “oh.. god.”  

mason used his hands to part your lips further, allowing his face to be buried deeper into you and your hands sprung to his hair. he hummed against your clit as he licked, nibbled and swirled his tongue, and the pleasure was almost unbearable. he bumped your clit with his nose when his tongue slipped back inside you again, and raised his eyes so he was looking directly into yours. the contact was almost too much, and the butterflies were beginning to get overwhelming. your orgasm was fast approaching.  

he held your legs open further and pushed the hem of your dress up, so it rested at your bellybutton. you could see his nose and cheeks glistening with your wetness, and the butterflies that swarmed in your stomach had begun to travel south.  

“d-d-daddy... i... i can... i'm all tingly... i think i'm gonna...”  

mason pulled away from you right as you felt like the dam was going to open, and you whined, thrashing around in protest. he raised an eyebrow, “you need to ask daddy for permission to cum, little one,” he slapped the inside of your thigh and you winced, biting down on your bottom lip, “because your pretty little cunt is his, and you need to ask for permission to use something you don’t own.”  

oh.  

he lay there, waiting patiently.  

“can i please cum, daddy?”  

mason was satisfied with your plea, at least for now. he wasn’t going to have you begging until you cried this time. “of course, princess,” he hummed, delving back into your pussy. you mewled and he mumbled against your clit, “daddy’s pretty little cunt.”  

with that, your orgasm hit you. you thrashed around at the feeling, lifting your hips off the bed. immediately, mason’s hands splayed under your bum, holding you up as he continued to eat like his last meal. you cried out, almost screaming at the sensation. becca always talked about her boyfriend doing this, and you never understood why she liked it so much – until now.  

you tapped at mason’s head when you couldn’t take it anymore, and he pulled off of your clit with a pop. his entire chin glistened, and it ignited a fire in your eyes. arousal seeped through your veins, and mason couldn’t help but laugh against your lips when you sat up and pulled him closer by the collar of his knitted jumper.  

in a bold move, your hand dropped to his crotch and you felt his dick, rock hard and straining his jeans. you blushed upon having the realisation that you’d never sucked anyone off before, and you were almost definitely about to suck off mason. that, and his dick felt fucking huge.  

“what’s up, little one?”  

mason pulled away from your lips and tucked the loose hair behind your ear, and you couldn’t help but bury your head into his neck. he hooked his hand under your cheek and lifted you up softly, looking deep into your eyes. there was a moment of peace, where he scanned your eyes for any discomfort, but you were determined to see it through.  

“it feels... big.”  

your cheeks felt hotter than the sahara desert by this point, and mason chuckled at your innocence.  

“do you think so, babygirl?” he questioned, and his fingers curled around yours and made you squeeze at it. he groaned at the contact. “should we see if you’re right, hm?”  

you nodded eagerly, and mason almost fainted when your eyes grew black with lust. he placed your hand firmly back into your lap, and he stood up to pull his shirt off. you almost drooled at the sight of his naked torso, and the tattoo’s scattered around it. he unlooped his belt effortlessly, and within seconds his jeans were tossed to the floor. his dick was so hard that the tip poked out from the waistband of his jeans, red and desperate for some attention.  

he kept his eyes on yours to gage your reaction as he pulled down his boxers. you were right. it was huge. and thick. it inflated mason’s ego to triple the size it already was, and he loved how easy you were becoming, but this was only the tip of the iceberg. he wanted to make you his, and by the end of the night, he would make sure you were the only girl that he was corrupting. 

“t-that’s supposed to fit... i-inside me?”  

“mhm,” mason’s hand jacked himself off as he stood up at the edge of the bed, your head at the perfect height to suck. “it will, baby, and it will hurt, but i'll make it fit, you haven’t got to worry about a thing,” he pinched your cheek and you subconsciously smiled. commotion went on outside your bedroom door, one of your housemates was sneaking along the landing, and it caught your attention, but mason pulled your head back to face him with his finger hooked under your chin, “it’s not gonna suck itself, darling.”  

you gulped. “i’ve... i haven’t... you're going to have to teach me, daddy.”   

mason had to stop jacking himself off and pause for a moment in fear of ejaculating all over your face at the sentence that just left your mouth.  

“okay, princess, but first you’ll need to take this off,” he ruffled the hem of your dress and you frowned, “don’t give me that look, babygirl. it's only fair.”  

you hooked your arms out of your bra and dress all in one, and mason helped you step out of it steadily. his breath hitched when he saw you naked, drinking in the sight of your naked body. you'd never looked more beautiful, and he’d never been so desperate to be buried inside of someone.  

he leaned down to kiss your lips, and then slid down onto the bed, so his head was at the pillows. you followed suite, kneeling down at his side. he guided your hand to his dick silently, and you giggled softly when he helped you move your hand up and down, “that’s good, baby,” he said, running his fingers up to your wrist to loosen the movement slightly, “now lean over so your mouth is hovering over it, and spit on the head.”  

“t-the head?”  

“the tip, baby, the tip,” mason chuckled at your innocence, and you did as he asked. spit hung from the tip of your outsplayed tongue and trickled down to the head of his penis. as you smeared it around with your hand, your thumb ran over the slit of his dick and he jolted, a groan tumbling from his lips. your eyes shot up to face him, looking like a dear in the headlights as you feared you did something wrong, but mason shook his head. “that’s good darling, so good. why don’t you – fuck – why don’t you try and take it in your mouth.”  

you leaned down, so your lips were millimeters from his dick, and took a deep breath. you’d always envisioned doing this, and who it would be with, and none of your fantasies could ever compare to this.  

your lips pursed around the head, taking just that into your mouth and looking up at mason through your eyelashes. he seemed to like that a lot judging by the way he looked down at you and nodded. “okay, little one, you’re doing such a good job,” he patted your head subconsciously, “now, alternate between bobbing your head, twisting your hand and running your tongue around the head. just get a feel for it, darling, okay? i don’t want to cum just yet.”  

you nodded, and much to your surprise you enjoyed the compromising position you had been put in. mason made it feel so easy, so comfortable, and it made your heart flutter and your pussy throb. you began to bob your head gradually, taking more and more in with every move. mason admired your innocence and every time he remembered that his dick was the first one you’d had inside your mouth – your sweet, innocent, virgin mouth – he wanted to bust a load.  

“oh god, yes, little one,” mason’s hand bunched your hair up in his hand out of habit, and you gagged around him as he thrusted up into your mouth ever so slightly, “you’re doing so well for me, got such a pretty little mouth.”  

you moaned, and the vibrations sent shockwaves up his dick and all over his body. he thrusted up into your mouth and you gagged again, your eyes watering at the sensation but you liked it. “play with my – fuck – play with my balls, baby, just squeeze them gently,” mason cooed, smoothing your cheeks with his free hand, and you did as you were told, halting the movements of your hand stroking his dick so you could use it to stabilize you as you fondled his balls. he groaned loudly, “fuuuck, baby. that's it, such a good little girl.”  

he thrusted up into your mouth again and this time spit came spluttering out of your mouth and landed along the prickly skin around his pubic bone. your eyes watered again, so much so that the tears soaked your eyelashes and mason lowered his hips. “you okay, baby? do you wanna stop?”  

you nodded sheepishly. mason's dick fell from your mouth and the tip rested at his bellybutton. he noticed your knotted eyebrows, “what’s up, darling?”  

“my mouth.. it tastes weird.” 

he chuckled and couldn’t believe how innocent you were.  

“that’s because it’s no longer a virgin mouth, little one. it's now forever tainted with the taste of my pre-cum,” he leaned over and kissed your lips, swiping his tongue across your bottom lip, “you’re going to be tainted with my taste forever now, baby. never getting rid of me.”  

he used his strength to roll you over, so you were now laying with your head at the pillows. he admired how pretty you looked. anxiety pounded in your chest, and you suddenly got overwhelmed, but you knew it would pass, it was just nerves. mason noticed, and tucked some hair behind your ear.  

“do you remember your word, darling?”  

“cherries, daddy.”  

“good girl,” he leaned down to kiss your lips, “if you want daddy to stop, you need to use that word, understood?”  

“mhm,” you nodded, and leaned up to kiss him. he chuckled at your neediness. “there’s.. um... i have... in the bathroom cabinet.. there’s some... condoms.”  

“daddy’s shy little girl wants him to fuck her, hm?”  

you mewled underneath him and fought off a blush by buring your head in the pillows when his finger grazed between your folds, and you jolted at the sensitivity, “please, daddy, i... i... i need it. i need you.”  

mason fought back the urge to fuck you raw.  

“babygirl, listen to yourself beg for me,” he tutted, standing up and slipping on your dressing gown momentarily to go to the bathroom, “such a naughty little thing, hm? weren’t like this an hour ago. i've turned you into a little slut, haven’t i?”  

the last part of the sentence was partially shouted as he wandered into the bathroom you shared with another housemate, and you could’ve died there and then. you only hoped everyone else was minding their own damn business.  

he came back with a handful of condoms, and the dressing gown was tossed to the floor with the rest of the clothes. “go on, baby, say you’re daddy’s little slut,” he teased, “otherwise i'll leave you high and dry, begging for my cock all night.”  

your cheeks heated up as you opened your mouth. mason stood there, cock on full display, waiting patiently. you took a breath, “you’ve turned me into a little slut, daddy.”  

he made a satisfied hum noise and ripped the condom open with ease. you watched as he rolled it on and he climbed back on the bed, the sheer touch of his skin on yours leaving you with goosebumps. his fingers ran through your folds again and your wetness was enough.  

his hand outstretched your leg, so it was out at an angle to the side while the other was bent at the knee draped over his shoulder. you moaned at the feeling of being poked and prodded so he could get you exactly how he wanted you.  

you squirmed with anticipation as mason guided himself to your pussy, and when he slipped inside you let out a strangled, desperate moan. every time you thought his dick was fully inside of you, you were proved wrong, and with the angle of your legs, he only penetrated you deeper. he groaned at your tightness and the way his dick seemed to slot perfectly inside you.  

“fuck, little one,” his pubic bone hit your skin and he successfully buried himself to the hilt inside of you. “your cunt is so wet and tight, fits me so well, like it was made for me.” 

you mewled at his words and attempted to buy your head in the pillows beside you but mason grabbed your chin with his hand and forced you to look at him above you. he pulled out and pushed back in the whole way once again. “don’t you ever look away,” his fingers squeezed at your cheeks and moved down your face until they gripped at your neck, “daddy always wants to see the way your eyes roll back when he hits -” mason raised his hips up so the angle of his hips changed ever so slightly and he smirked when your eyes rolled back with a moan of his name, “that spot. such a naughty little girl.” 

“mhm,” you mumbled, already feeling a pressure building between your hips, “your naughty little girl, daddy.” 

“fuckin’ right,” mason's fingers squeezed your neck in approval, “daddy’s dirty little girl, you’re filthy, aren’t you?” 

you could feel him hitting so deep inside of you and the way his hips slowed with each pull out had you on the verge of screaming. your headboard began to thud dully against the wall and you couldn’t help but let out a long, drawn out moan.  

“gonna wake up the house if you keep moaning like a whore, baby,” mason cooed, pushing himself forward so the stretch in your legs began to sting and the angle of his dick grew deeper, “i can feel you clenching my dick, darling. such a tight little pussy.” 

your hands gripped at his shoulders and mason’s head dropped between your bodies so he could watch himself slipping in and out of your pussy. the angle of your body underneath him was driving him insane and he couldn’t help it when a moan slipped past his lips.  

the closer you got to an orgasm, the louder you became, and it only spurred mason on further. he was itching to get you cumming, and so when his fingers brushed your clit and you almost screamed in pleasure, he smirked. you were almost positive that savannah and becca could hear the entire thing from their rooms on the bottom floor.  

“d-daddy...”  

mason smiled, thumb pulling at your bottom lip. “yes, little one?” 

“i’m gonna cum,” you cried, arching your back up off the bed, “please, daddy.”  

mason tutted. you were going to have to beg a lot better than that.  

“come on, darling, you can beg better than that,” he left a kiss to your jawline, “i know you turn into a mindless whore when you’re being fucked, but that was pathetic.”  

 you squeaked and clenched around his dick again. your body was in overdrive and with every thrust it felt like you were going to explode.  

“d-daddy... please,” you choked, throat running dry, “p-please, i need to cum, i'll do anything, p-please, daddy.” 

“you’ll do anything? oh, darling. i wouldn’t say something like that if you don’t mean it.”  

“please, i’m so close,” you were panting now, fighting off your orgasm with every passing second. mason leaned down to kiss your lips hotly, pulling your lip between his teeth and biting down so hard he almost drew blood, “please.”  

your begging attempt was satisfactory. for now.  

“go on then, darling,” he drawled, “cum for daddy like a good girl.”  

you couldn’t help the scream that left your mouth, and your orgasm shook your body so hard that it left your limbs twitching. this orgasm seemed to be more fulfilling, and lasted longer than the others you’d had this evening. your clenching pussy triggered mason’s orgasm, and despite the fact he came into the condom, you could still feel the heat of his cum inside of you.  

it was only when you noticed the wet sheets underneath your bum and mason’s wet torso that your eyebrows furrowed.  

“fucking hell, little one,” mason groaned, pulling out of you and looking down at the seeping sheets, “look at the mess you’ve made.”  

“what happened...? what did i do?”  

it had only just dawned on mason that you were completely clueless. this was the first time you’d ever squirted.  

“you just wet the bed, babygirl,” he rolled to the side of you and your eyebrows furrowed, “daddy fucked you so well and so deep that you squirted.”  

he admired the way your eyes widened, and he smirked. if he wasn’t sure about keeping you in his life before, he was definitely going to keep you around now. you yawned, completely and utterly exhausted from the night’s events, and mason pushed the sweaty hair out of your face, “we need to get you clean, sweetheart.”  

“mm, tired,” was all you could say, fighting off a yawn, “just wanna sleep.”  

mason stood up and slipped your dressing gown back over his shoulders. your eyelids continued to flutter, and you would’ve fallen asleep had he not have handed you his shirt and boxers, “come on, darling, you need to clean yourself up,” you sighed but obeyed his words, pulling the shirt over your head, “i’ll help you put fresh sheets on too, okay?”  

his hand looped through yours as he guided you to your bathroom, and your eyebrows furrowed again. mason began to run the water and you sat on the toilet seat. “you’re helping?” you asked, scrunching your nose, “i thought you were just going to leave.”  

mason laughed. you really were clueless, and it was adorable to him.  

“you really think i'd fuck you like that and then just walk away?” mason raised an eyebrow, and once again, the thought dawned on him that that’s exactly what happened to you after your first time. that was all you’d ever known. “oh, sweetheart, no, i wouldn’t ever do that to you.”  

he tested the temperature of the water with the tips of his fingers, and helped you wriggle out of his shirt as you stepped into it. he kissed your forehead as you rested your arms on the side of the bath.  

“pack a bag and come to my house next weekend,” he said nonchalantly, and suddenly, all your exhaustion had dissipated, “please.”  

“y-you want me to...”  

“i’m not asking you, y/n,” his stern bedroom voice had returned and it sent shivers down your spine, “i’m telling you.”  

your heart settled in your chest and he smiled against your lips when you leaned over the bath and kissed him. “i’ll stay at yours if you stay here.”  

“i wasn’t planning on going anywhere, darling,” he kissed your nose, “you’re going to get sick of me.”  

you smiled.  

“impossible.”  

[thatonegreenleaf]

~June Singh~ Sim Download + CC links!

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This is June! She was made as a response to the extensive lore that was being developed on my twitch stream when I was building a grunge style record & music store. (find that build here) She goes hand in hand with Cyrus Morrison, and is a shy poet with a flair for song writing!

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[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

All I Ever Wanted, All I Ever Needed

Pairing: Homelander x Supe!Reader

Warnings: siblingxsibling implications, Homelander being such a narcissist that he falls in "love" with his own sibling, Homelander being a stalker, innocent reader, naive reader, Homelander being a basic menace, first time writing for this fandom, also experimenting a new writing style

Words: 5688

Summary: Along with the existence of Ryan, there was another secret being kept from Homelander that he manages to rip out of Vogelbaum's throat: he has a sister.

Part 2 Part 3

The house was quaint, way too fucking perfect in Homelander's opinion. Just like all the other mansions on the block. When he went back to Vogelbaum to find out the REAL truth about Becca, he'd forced Jonah to tell him anymore lies that were being kept from him. He hadn't anticipated there being a second secret: Homlander has a sister. Rare to be caught speechless, he leaves Vogelbaum's massive mansion. What else was Vought hiding from him? Not just Vought, but Madelyn as well. She'd lied to Homelander before. Now he'd take things into his own control.

From the slip of information Vogelbaum wheezed out , Homelander remembers the address. Stares at the numbers in front of the house that matches what Johan said. Architecture reeks of wealth. He didn't have to peek into the large bay windows to know that each corner dripped with elegance as was appropriate for a big time Vought executive. You were granted an entirely different life than what Homelander suffered from. Raised with loving parents who encouraged you to cultivate your powers in a positive way. Dinner was a sit down affair where everyone discussed highlights of the day. An authentic family unit. After discovering the truth of both you and Becca, he raided the archives for more information about her. Birth records, school reports, personal notes of progress from the adopted parents. Doted on. If only he had knowledge of you sooner. Homelander missed out on having a genuine bond to someone. A person he could truly call his own.

Superhuman eyes detect multiple people in the house. No worries. Once he presents himself, they won't deny him anything. Unless they want to end up like Stillwell and many others.

Insurmountable confidence has his gloved hand wrapping knuckles against the wood of the front door. He clasps his hands behind his back and waits. Scattering voices whisper amongst the other before feet lumber down several steps of stairs. A moment passes before the locks on the doors click open to reveal the stereotypcial dowdy housemaid. What a cliche.

Her eyes damn near pop out of her head, her mouth pulling into an ecstatic smile. Good, didn't look like there'd be much resistance. He didn't even get a chance to open his mouth before the maid pulls him in. "Oh she'll be SO delighted to see you Homlander! Please- wait here while I get her!" She frantically calls up the stairs, using the name he knew belonged to you, his sister. A sudden pang of warmth pleasantly grips him at the knowledge that you were already a fan of him. Maybe even admired Homelander. That makes him stand a bit taller.

At the top of the stairs, there you stood. You didn't believe in Diane when she told you the Homelander was at the front door. Even as you stare at him with your own striking cornflower blue eyes, your mind melts and you still don't believe what you see before you; that he's there in the flesh until his grin broadens. A brush stroke of awestruck sweeps across his expression.

Homelander found you absolutely perfect. And the smile that broke out on your own face took his breath away. An authentic smile of his own graces his facial muscles. You were a vision before him. Utter helplessness renders speech useless as he simply stares right into you. There must be a blush on your face, how could there not be one when he's staring so intently at you. He was bigger and better in real life. A wider range of emotions more available on his face opposed to the mask you saw him wear sometimes on screen. Stiff and uncomfortable. This one was even more appealing. His smile made his blue eyes crinkle with delight.

"Wow." You breathe out and feel Diane eagerly bounce behind you. "It's really you!" As fast as your mouth could go, you introduce yourself and Diane despite Homelander already knowing your name, birthdate and social security number. Whatever information he could get on you. Not even in his imagination could he truly conjure you up though.

Bringing him to the drawing room with a small tug on his gloved hands, you beam at him and say that your mom would be so excited to meet him. The light of your face makes his heart melt, something he long believed he didn't possess.

Seated already on a cream colored couch was your mom. She drops her cup and saucer, letting it shatter against the ground. Eyes incredulously wide but not with enthusiasm like you assume they'd be. Your grin drops a bit when you realize she's scared. Of what? Certainly not Homelander. Couldn't be. She'd been perfectly fine when you passed by the sitting room a few moments before heading upstairs.

Immediately the maid scrambles to clean up the mess, chirping apologies as she gathers the pieces up in her apron before scuttling away to dispose of the broken porcelain pieces.

"Homelander," your mom's voice came out as a squeak. "What a surprise to see you." She blinks out of nervousness.

"Thought I would treat Vought's wonderful executive crew with a surprise visit!" Businessman smile activated, Homelander goes on with some well rehearsed corporate bull crap spiel about how Vought appreciated all of their wonderful workers. He could practically lap at the fear emanating from your mom as she sat tightlipped against frilly decorative throw pillows. That could only mean she was in on the secret too and knew who you really were. Most importantly why he was there. She must have known that when he eventually found out, he would come.

Your mom's smile is frigid as her hand is clamped down on your forearm. "What an honor, thank you Homelander." You could tell she wanted him gone. With your own incredible olfactory receptors, you could smell her sweat too.

Hands behind his back in his usual resting stance, Homelander admits "I do have another reason for coming here too." Boots squeak as he takes just one simple step closer that has your mom's nails digging into you. It didn't hurt you but from her white knuckles she was definitely using all her strength. "A little bird told me you're special, like me."

Admittedly you beam with pride when he spoke of you being special like him. When your powers start to grow you were thrilled to find out that you had the exact powers that Homelander, the greatest superhero in the world!

Coyly and not wanting to come off as arrogant, you flutter your gaze down to your lap. "Well, I'm still nowhere near your league." Just to show off a little, you make your eyes sizzle red with heat vision that Homelander also possessed. His smile widens at your display of superability.

"How would you like to train at Vought with the Seven? You'll have the best of the best as your teachers."

He'd said it so easily you didn't take him seriously the first time. Blinking at him until it dawned on you. "R-Really?"

"Honey, this is all very sudden. Lets wait for your father to come home." She attempts to placate you but now all you can think about is the possibility of training alongside the rest of the Seven. Immediately you want to remind her that you were an adult and could take up this offer with or without your father's permission.

You don't have to because Homelander smoothly lies to her face. "Oh, no need to worry about that. Your husband already gave the go ahead!"

Her brows scrunch in a disbelieving frown. "He did?" She couldn't out right accuse the Homelander of lying.

"Of course! He was ecstatic at the opportunity his little girl would have." His tone is syrupy sweet. He couldn't show how annoyed he was with your mom. If he had informed the patriarch of your family, he doubts the man would have objected. Not to Homelander at least. They could go crying to Stand Edger for all he cared. Vought's CEO was just as powerless in stopping him once he has his mind set on something. Try as they might. Madelyn Stillwell came close to being able to manipulate him, but he'd melted her face off days prior so there was no use in Edger wielding her as a weapon.

Now you're the one clawing at your mom's arm. "Did you hear that! He said I could go! I gotta pack!" Hopping to your feet, in the blink of an eye you're dashing out of the living room and up the stairs before your mom could stutter out another word. It was just her and Homelander now with the occasional house help peeking into the living room to catch a glimpse of the glorious leader of the Seven. Visibly she swallows thickly, her eyes stare at Homelander with unrelenting fear.

"What? Did you really expect me not to find out?" Cheery smile not leaving his face, his voice reveals the sneer that he so wished to deliver to her. As it was he was keeping his voice down in case you had superhearing like he did.

The rims of her eyes glisten with unshed tears. She had to be the same age Madelyn was before he killed her. "I-I thought we had more time. Please don't take her. Please. You can come see her as much as you want. You have that right as her b-brother. But please- leave her with us." Practically gasping as she keeps her panic in control. Lines around her lips tremble. Homelander takes in her pathetic form.

"Tell me, do you love her?"

That makes her tears roll freely down her face. "I do. We do. She's a good girl. S-She wants to be a superhero, wants to protect people and use her powers for good. Please don't take her!"

Homelander snaps. "Quit your fucking blubbering."

Her mouth instantly zips shut, knowing what he did to Stillwell. Her husband had warned her early on about the real Homelander. He wasn't the perfect hero that the media painted him as. Even if you were upstairs, he wouldn't hesitate to come back and kill her. He's paused for a moment, listening to the pitter patter of your feet above. Happy that you were still busy and not paying attention to what was going on downstairs.

False saccharine face goes back up. "There's no reason for tears. You've done your job. Said so yourself that she's a good girl. She's a young adult though and doesn't need her mommy and daddy poking around in her business. Not to mention the big secret you and your husband are keeping from her."

Leaning over her, he sinisterly utters under his breath "She's coming with me. Now put a smile on your face and fucking wipe your goddamn eyes. You look disgusting. She's coming down the stairs."

Easily toting a giant backpack and two overstuffed duffle bags, you stride back into the living room. To Homelander's surprise, another duffle bag was floating behind you. Apparently you had telekinesis too. Your smile is so big that it was starting to hurt your face. This was the chance of a lifetime. You'd been getting bored stuck at home as of late.

Eagerly clenching the straps of your two duffle bags in your hands, you beam expectantly at your mom. "Sorry about dad not being here to see me off, but I'll see him around at Vought!" You go in to hug your stunned mom and promise to call her when you arrive at the tower.

Homelander is tickled pink by your enthusiasm and haul your bags out to the front porch. "Can you fly?"

You grin deviously and give your mom one last wave goodbye. Homelander takes the duffles out of your hands even though you were fully capable of carrying possibly even more luggage. What a gentleman. Something guys your age weren't.

He takes off first into the sky with you following, hot on his tail.

Never had you experienced this level of elation. You have someone to fly with! The feeling was the same for Homelander. He'd boost his speed and you caught up with him in seconds. Laughing the entire time. It makes him giddy and laughs along with you.

Twin flames.

Finally, Homelander was getting what he's wanted since he was a young boy.

You were a streak of gold as you zoom past him cheekily. For a moment he forgets that you're his sister. He's overwhelmed by the sudden warming in his chest that bleeds to his face as he watches you zip in the open air with your arms wide open to embrace the wind itself. To him you were beautiful in every single way. A perfect specimen. An outright desirous scream in his head confounds him. He didn't have a regular up bringing, but Homelander knew that this was not a common reaction to have with blood kin.

Expertly he tucks that thought away. He'd examine it later. Right now, he needed to focus on catching up with you.

He had to take the lead anyway since he was the only one who could find Vought Tower so high up in the sky and miles away. Below you, the city looks like a toy replica by how small it was as you follow Homelander's lead in the sky. You'd never seen anything quite like it. Where you'd lived was a quiet suburb. You didn't go to a public or private school but taught at home by the best instructors your parents could buy. They tend to keep you away from big cities, claiming your buddening powers as a liability if something bad were to happen. When they brought up things like that, it made you scared to even try using them. But watching Homelander's Vought produced movies gave you the courage to start playing with your abilities and push your limits; even if it meant that you subsequently knocked down the large tree in your backyard and landing it on the side of the house. That was the first time your dad had ever yelled at you.

From seeing it on the news many times, you notice the tall, silver column as Vought Tower. Homelander slows down as you had been too busy with sight seeing, but he didn't mind. He thought you were adorable, basically a little kid at Voughtland. So easily excited about everything new. That just reaffirms his suspicion that your parents had locked you up in an oppressive cage. Just like Becca did with Ryan. Really, Homelander was doing you a favor by setting you free and into his secure and guiding hands.

Both of you easily land on the roof of the tower, a door at the ready for them to enter the structure itself. You gaze out from the roof, enjoying the noise of the city and the pure energy that buzzed through it. That morning seemed so long ago. A basic start to your day, just like any other morning for the boring, safe life your parents smothered you with.

Your excitement makes your features glow, even blinding Homelander who couldn't keep his eyes off of you. You were utterly intriguing to him. An entirely different species. Both of you were so much alike yet due to your upbringing near solar opposites at the same time. Finally when you turn away from observing gaze and look to Homelander, he opens the door for you. In more ways than one. He takes you from the rooftop and into the thrum of the tower. You can't help staring at everything you walk by. All the while he goes on to promise you a room as soon as he could find-

"Ashley! There you are!" He calls out to a jumpy red head who looks both relieved and incredibly stressed out once she spots you next to him. Her lips smack against one another, flailing for useful words, her eyes round and staring at you. "We need to get a room set up for our new friend here." Homelander introduces you and you hold out a hand for Ashley to shake. Fumbling with her tablet, a sweaty hand weakly reaches out for a fast shake.

"Nice to meet you. Homelander, can I have a word with you?" Ashley hesitantly asks, forcing a fake smile and much like your mom had Ashley reeked of fear.

Homelander quickly catches your dampening smile and puts a hand on your shoulder to steer you past her. "Not now, Ashley. I have to show her around the rest of the tower. Especially the Seven's very own conference room." That brings the enthusiasm back onto your lips. While he can still hear Ashley's frantic voice trying to get him to come back he could care less. Besides, you didn't appear too affected by bumping into her, the prospect of seeing the Seven's personal conference room had you instantly forgetting the nervous red head.

A large window that spans from wall to wall has the perfect picture of the metropolis skyline in its massive frame. This felt like a perspective only the elite were privlidged enough to gaze from.

Focal point of the room though was the massive circular table, meticulously crafted with dark marble and metal. A symbol of the Seven's authority. It gleams liquid night. At the head of the table was one lone chair, away from the others. Homelander's chair. This is where he got to work every day with the greatest superheroes the country has to offer.

Watching you glide to his chair, Homelander smirks to himself. You catch it when you glance up at him with brilliant moon eyes. The brightness from the world outside casts a brilliant light around you. "I can't believe I'm in Homelander's seat!"

He chuckles and slowly trails over to you. His gloved fingers trail along the tops of the other chairs in a near gentle caress. "It suits you."

You avert your gaze from those fingers, suddenly feeling a flush crawl up your neck. "Is this really happening?" You incredulously peer at him. Your own hands glide along the table's surface. "This morning I was eating breakfast in our dining room, now I'm here with the greatest hero of all time." Brows scrunch together. Besides having powers, your life had been mundane. You'd never even been to Vought Tower where your dad had worked for a good thirty years. Things like this don't happen in a span of four hours. Insane. And it was all thanks to Homelander who saw potential in you.

"You'll get used to it. It's a lot at first." He acknowledged. Homelander wonders if Ashely has procured a room for you yet and has half the mind to call her until the conference room doors open. You throw yourself out of his chair, afraid how it would be perceived by his colleagues. Gasping when you find out it's Starlight and Queen Maeve. They appeared to be in a deep conversation. But once they register you and Homelander, whatever they'd been discussing becomes secondary. How could it not when you had similar characteristics with the man standing next to you. You weren't anyone they've met before. Nor were you a sponsoring celebrity or executive. So what were you doing there all of places?

"Impeccable timing!" He merely claps his hands together. "The two most perfect heroes to welcome you to the Tower." Starlight can't resist lookng at you with concern, wondering if you were in distress despite the smile plastered on your face. When there's no obvious sign of you being uncomfortable, Starlight strains to conjure the semblance of an easy going smile. Homelander told them that you were their new hero-in-training. Neither Queen Maeve or Starlight have ever heard of this position, it hadn't existed but once it leaves their leader's mouth, it might as well have been law. Maeve knew to tread carefully with her words.

Her own mask was honed after years of dealing with his psychopathy and Maeve dawned it on herself with ease. "Wonderful news." She turns to you, statuesque and beautiful. "Welcome. If Homelander speaks so highly of you, then I'm sure you'll find your footing around here."

"I'm excited to learn from both of you and I'll make sure not to get in the way." You promise which cracks a sympathetic smile from Starlight. From your appearance, Starlight deduces that you had to be a year or two younger than her and understood how it felt to abruptly be thrust into the life of the Seven.

Homelander clears his throat and offers you his arm. "Lets go see if Ashley's got that room ready for you. I'm sure you want to settle down."

Before leaving, Homelander sends both women a pointed glare over his shoulder as the doors close behind his red, white and blue cape.

Stunned, Starlight turns to Maeve knowing nothing good would come of this new installment of Vought. Neither had seen nor heard of you. You seemed relatively innocent and ignorant of the danger you were in so close to Homelander.

Maeve shrugs, indifference cloaking how she really felt. "Not our problem."

Starlight's eyes round in disbelief. "Sounds like its going to be a problem sooner or later. Something's up. He doesn't just show interest in random strangers. Even if they're supes too."

Chewing on the inside of her mouth, Maeve is aware of the terrible possibility that this could all end badly for you. Having Homelander's attention did more harm than good. If they wanted any chance of intervening, they'd have to be extremely careful. Homelander may be an egotistical man, but he wasn't a dumb man. He'd catch on immediately if either Starlight or Maeve slip in their investigation toward who you are.

"All we can do is keep an eye out for her and guide her." Maeve murmurs, worried that Homelander may still be listening. Such was the paranoia that she'd developed from all the years they worked together. It was upsetting that her relationship with HOmelander outlasts any other, even Elena. They'd known one another for years. The manner that Homelander hovered around you though was disconcerting. If intervention were needed, there was no way Homelander would let anyone near you.

Starlight grits down on her back molars as she moves around Maeve and out of the conference room. But she couldn't just keep an eye on you. Her feet take her to Ashley's office although her brain was reminding her that the VP of Hero Management would most likely not be there.

After finally hounding down Ashley, you're shown your new room in Vought with a promise from Homelander that you could redecorate it all if you like. All the while it's impossible to ignore the heavy smell of fear from her.

Homelander couldn't pretend not to notice either as his mouth, still holding onto a smile, becomes tight with force. "Thank you Ashley, that will be all."

For not being a supe, she gave A-Train a run for his money as Ashley booked it out of there in the blink of an eye.

"I'll make sure everything else is taken care of and given to you as soon as possible. For now though, relax. I'll put together a team dinner tonight so you can meet everyone else." The face he'd had with Ashley was washed away now replaced with genuine plesantaness.

You examine what was more than a simple room, this was a penthouse apartment. Bigger than the room you had back home with actual marble columns that stand proudly from floor to ceiling. A similar expansive window like that of the conference room greets the city outside with a glittery afternoon effect. Gold and amber filter the sky. Lost in the gleam of it all, you float around; eyes big in wonder. You lived in luxury before, but now your surroundings were damn near extravagant. This was an entire level up from your usual lifestyle.

Barely managing to breathe out an 'okay', you hear the front door open then close.

Still reeling, you place your backpack along with your other luggage at the foyer and let yourself wander. The call to your mom could wait. This moment was for you. You felt seen.

You would be a hero like Homelander. Maybe never as great as him, but some day you could achieve his caliber. This was really happening.

Homelander never imagined his day would have turned into something like this either. His miles hasn't left since leaving your room as he strolls through the halls to make sure your paperwork was properly handled. He felt like he was flying his entire way to the elevators yet his feet were firmly planted on the ground. There were so many things he wanted to do with you. So much he wanted to talk about.

But. . .

He couldn't let you know about the tie you had to him. More than you sharing powers. Blood connected the both of you. The only person (besides Ryan) who could boast that. It was something sacred to him. Of course nothing could remain pure when it came to Homelander. Because you were his sister that meant you were just as perfect as he was. Even more so since you had the added skill of telekinesis. The only person alive truly worthy of being with him. Thinking about his future had butterflies flapping their paper thin wings along the inside of his stomach. To take you the way he desired, Homelander had to make sure no one knew of your biological relationship. Public opinion would demonize him were the fact to get out. Initially he thought of keeping you locked up, but that was an unlikely scenario which would lead to you fighting against him. He wants you to be pliant and willing. That required trust to be developed along with Homelander worming his way into your brain and heart.

Hopefully the look he shot Starlight and Maeve on his way out was enough to prevent either of them in snooping around for information about you. This was his business that they should not meddle in. Particularly Starlight's intentions bothered him. She was a snake in the grass, proven it by aligning herself with Hughie and the rest of the Boys. He saw her being a problem in the future. That concerned look she'd had when her eyes fell upon you spelled trouble brewing.

The pep in his step dwindles thinking of it, jaw tightening. If Starlight found out you were siblings, it would put a wrench in the plans he was formulating. His long desired family unit was within reach. He could practically hear Ryan's laughter, see you chasing after the young boy as if he were your very own. How pretty you would look in summer clothes, waiting for Homelander to come home. The life of his dreams. The life Vought fabricated for his backstory could so easily become reality. He'd just been missing two important pieces. They were essential to this new life Homelander wished for.

There were no qualms over the idea of killing Starlight. Problems would be for Vought trying to cover it up. Not to mention the situation that would inevitably arise with Billy Butcher, especially now that he knew his wife was alive and raising the supe's son. Another encounter with him lay in wait. A headache he wasn't looking forward to dealing with. He just wanted to focus on you and Ryan.

Arriving at the gold plated elevator doors, he presses down on the button that would take him to floor 82, Mr. Edgar's floor. That was Mr. Edgar's kingdom which he ruled with an iron fist and ruthless attitude. When the two doors slide open, Ashley jumps back clearly startled by yet again running into him.

"I-I trust the room is to her liking?" Ashley's mouth twitches and morphs into what she must have thought passed off as a smile.

He stalks into the elevator forcing Ashley to seek refuge in the further most corner. Darkling tutting, Homelander waits for the doors to close before addressing the vice president who was charged with dealing with these self entitled heroes. "You're going to have to try a lot harder at pretending you're not scared. You stink of fear and if I can smell it, so could she."

Paling, her head rapidly nods in complete understanding all the while trying to relax her facial muscles into neutrality as well as taking a few deep breaths. If she didn't fix herself immediately. . . it brought back memories of Blindspot.

For a few seconds he watches her, specifically listening to her erratic heartbeat. At least she listened and didn't need to be told twice. Through her own sheer will, Ashley manages to calm herself enough to lower her pulse, not the easiest thing when her number one stressor was stuck in an elevator with her.

She reaches a hand up to her red hair and anxiously curls a lock of it around her finger instead, her only outlet that she'd be allowed.

"Good. You'll be coming with me to see Mr. Edgar." Homelander turns his blue eyes back up to the lit up floor numbers that were beginning to descend. With his attention away from her, Ashley stealthily rips out a few strands of her hair. The pain was soothing, aiding in faking her calm.

The air was suffocating with just the two of them. She thinks back to the phone call she'd received an hour before you and Homelander had arrived at the Tower. Stan Edgar personally warned her of what Homelander was doing. That he'd discovered not only a son but a sister too. Edgar, in the most polite way possible, instructed her not to get involved and just do whatever he told her to do. And absolutely no asking questions about you. Homelander was already pissed about so much being kept from him, best not to antagonize him further. Keeping him happy was top priority.

Unaware of the shit show that was unraveling, worker bees greet them with a smile once they arrive on the 82nd floor. A few even wave at Ashley.

Stan Edgar saw them coming the moment they stepped out of the elevator. Already he was on his feet and moving around his desk to greet them as his office door is opened. Homelander's hand poised at the back of Ashley's neck, he nudges her inside. Homelander motions for both of them to sit down as if it were his own office. His gaze doesn't waver, staring down an equally defiant Edgar. A normal human but he never squirmed in front of Homelander's penetrating stare. He'd commend the older man for his bravery. If only Ashley would take notes. She needed a better poker face if she's to make it in Vought Industries.

"You know why I'm here."

"Your sister and Ryan." Verifies Edgar. He'd prefer to stand but inch by inch sank himself down onto the cushion of his desk chair.

"Now, while Ryan may be under Becca's care, my sister is an adult and wishes to stay here. Train to be an elite hero. Like me. However," neither like the way he breathed out that single word "no one can know that we're related. People will scream nepotism and claim she's getting special treatment."

His reasoning was plausible but. . .

From a promotional point of view, a sibling duo would be a hit like the TNT Twins. The public would eat it up and show even more support for Vought in the polls.

"Oh, and her parents need to sign one of those NDA things. Can't have them flapping their mouth either." Tacking on as an after thought. You'd forget them soon enough. He'd just have to keep them away from you for the time being. They hovered over her too much for his liking. From the corner of his eye, he caught a quiver in Ashley's mask.

About to reprimand her, Edgar clears his throat and leans forward to allow his elbows to rest on the desk's surface." I understand. It will be done. But you do realize how difficult it would be to keep it under wraps considering the outstanding similarities. The powers, your eyes. People will start to ask questions."

"Let them ask away. As long as Vought says she's not my sister, then she's not my sister."

Why was he so intent on covering this one particular fact? Nepotism surely could explain it. Homelander's insistence of it concerns Edgar and Ashley who felt like he was planning something more nefarious for you. He was capable of any horrendous acts they could conjure. They were just as helpless when it came to him. Unable to defy his orders unless they desired him to burn holes into their faces as he did to Madelyn.

All of his whims taken care of, Homelander leaves them to start working on the welcome dinner with you and the rest of the Seven. He wants to show you off. He'd make sure you never wanted to leave him. Ensure that you continue to see him as all powerful and benevolent. The looks of admiration you'd shot him went straight to his head as well as other regions that were out of his control. Clear that you idolized America's favorite hero. Your parents raised you to believe that Vought was a company that cared about helping the public and that their heroes were there to protect and serve the general masses. No doubt in your mind that they were the good guys and the stuff on the media was simply baseless slander. What child would want to discover that their daddy was actually a bad guy working for the power hungry company and that supes were not in fact a gift from god. They were manmade. That knowledge would ruin your world.

Homelander would not allow that. You were his to protect now. His to blind and deafen to the world around them.

[livthelazywriter]

Real Love

Okay but with Bradley the fire never burns out. The two of you are in your late thirties with a few kids and your kids are disgusted with how cute the two of you are. Well, your thirteen year old son is.

A/n: a little something while I’m writing my other fics<3

Your feet patter against the hardwood floor as you make your way into the kitchen. A yawn escapes you once you enter, greeted with the bare back of your husband. As you draw closer, you snake your arms around him from behind. A bitter and heavenly smell fills the kitchen as Bradley presses start on the Keurig. Coffee spews from the machine and into your mug he got you a few years ago when he was overseas.

“Morning sleepy head.” Bradley pats your arm before he rests his hand on your left hand. His thumb glides across the soft skin back and forth. You grumble out a quiet ‘morning’ as you plant a small kiss in the middle of his back. His arms raise as he turns around to pull you in for a proper hug. Bradley tucks his face into your shoulder and plants a few soft but slow kisses to your exposed skin in the hole of your shirt.

His hands trail down lower to the hem of your baggy shirt and up to the skin of your hips. His fingers graze and trace along the stretch marks that adorn your skin from having three kids. A typical lazy morning on his weekend. Standing in the kitchen barely awake, waiting for the coffee to finish and according to your children? Being overly affectionate and cheesy.

“Careful! Mom and dad are being weird in the kitchen!” Nick shouts to his sister as he walks over to the fridge. Bradley lets out an amused huff at the thirteen year old. He keeps snuggling you in the middle of the kitchen.

Bradley eventually starts to sway and begins to hum ‘Real Love Baby’ by Father John Misty. A smile grows on your face and you move your arms to drape across his shoulders. You softly begin to sing along with him where’s he’s at.

“I’m in love, I’m alive. I belong to the stars and sky.” The two of you sing together with smiles. Linny or Caroline, your oldest daughter who is fourteen, walks in to see the two of you swaying in the kitchen.

She quietly sits down at the island in with her light brown eyes trained on her parents. She notices that Bradley’s phone is in the island counter top and is open. Secretly, she grabs it to start playing the song you two are singing.

Bradley perks up, raising his brows as he looks in the direction of the music. His smile widens as he grabs one of your hands and places the other on the small of your back. An amused laugh escapes your mouth as you follow his lead.

“I want that real love baby. Ooh, don’t keep me waiting.” Bradley songs louder as he spins you around the kitchen.

Nick stands at the counter, making a bowl of cereal watching you guys with an eye roll. Bradley notices and shakes his head as he keeps singing along to the song with you. Well, more like to you now.

“You guys are so cheesy.” Nick sighs as he pours the milk over his cereal.

“You’re a stick in the mud.” Linny chuckles as she rest her hand in her palm.

You two ignore the beep on the coffee maker and your two teenagers. Another pair of feet race through the house in the direction of the kitchen. The sound stops at the kitchen doorway. That’s Becca, your six year old daughter. She puts her hands on her mouth as she giggles watching her parents dance.

“I wanna dance with daddy!” She squeals, rushing over to the two of you. A mix of two sets of colored eyes glance down at the little girl. Bradley grins and scoops her up in his arms. His large callused hand grabs her soft small one and twirls around the kitchen with her. His sways are exaggerated, causing your little B to let out a high pitched laugh at her daddy’s actions.

You wish you had your phone to capture the scene, but it’s up in your room on the nightstand. A warm smile paints your face as you watch your husband dance with his daughter.

Yep, this is it.

This is the life. The best life anyone could ask for. A loving husband and three kids you two share. Can’t get any better.

Bradley moves over to you once again and kisses you out of nowhere. His mustache tickles your upper lip and nose. Becca squeals out an ‘eww’ and Nick sticks out his tongue in disgust. The two of you laugh in amusement against each other’s mouths at the reactions.

[ghostheartfelt]

*:･｡☆ tags: cafe cuteness (fr), regular customer au, sunshine reader, grown attachments, pervert!venom, fem!reader, first introduction, no use of y/n, she/her prns used

〔☆〕 desc: you meet eddie during morning rush hour, vv understanding man who admires your connection with your customers and dedication towards your job. eddie's hungry for chocolate (n you), you pique interest in the host and his symbiote. very calm and soft start<3 u get both povs basically cause the way i write can b confusing :)

.. ☆ next part | masterlist (tbe)

—✩ RUSH HOUR P. ⅰ ✩—

word count — 1.7k

a/n: u get both povs basically cause the way i write can b confusing :)

Rush hour, you thought.

Your coworkers were racing in and out of the kitchen holding platters of fresh baked muffins and pitchers of orange juice.

In the evenings, the café is quieter and calmer - in the mornings, not so much.

You turned as someone called your name and nearly jumped out of your skin.

“Can you get the back left corner table napkins and jelly packets, please? That old woman is just about ready to throw her handbag at me,” your coworker, Becc (short for Becca), had asked you while balancing dirty plates going down both of her forearms.

“Yes, yes, I can—“ you nodded, waving her off as you rushed to the check-in desk, grabbing at a few jelly packs; orange marmalade, grape, and strawberry, as well as a new pack of napkins.

You did as Becc asked, bringing the items to the old woman who indeed was clutching her blue leather snakeskin handbag. “Sorry, ma’am, we’re a bit busy this morning.”

With no reply, she snagged an orange marmalade jelly packet from your hand as you were placing them on the table, causing you to flinch at the sudden action.

You as well unpackaged the napkins and placed them in the metal stand, then fixed your apron and walked back to the front desk as the welcoming bell’s ringing filled your ears.

A male in an olive green jacket and denim jeans, a gray undershirt, and black converse made his way towards the dine-in counter where you stood behind.

He had a scruffy yet handsome face, his hair slightly unkempt but in a way that you admired him. Your cheeks slightly flushed.

“Good morning,” he nodded at you respectfully.

“Good morning,” you replied, “just a table for one?”

You picked up a menu, clutching it to your chest as your fingers trace along the plastic cover.

“Yeah,” his eyes nervously dragged around though you let it go and took it in as some sort of social anxiety.

“Right this way, sir,” you lead the way, your head turning over your shoulder to make sure he hadn’t zoned out, turning it once again at the sight of him trailing behind.

“Will this booth work for you?” you placed the menu down and he slid it over with his thumb and pointer finger.

“Oh, yeah, nice cushioning,” he laughed nervously.

“Perfect - any drinks to start you off? Perhaps an O.J, or a coffee?” you straighten your posture, your shoulders slouched awkwardly.

“Coffee sounds great, side of cream of sugar, if that’s okay?” he looked up at you.

You were a nervous wreck, and he could tell - they could tell.

“I’ll have that right out for you,” you turned and took a step, though he put his hand on your shoulder.

“Shit, sorry, just uh—can I get a chocolate muffin as soon as possible?” his lips overlapped one another as he let go, though you blinked and smiled.

“Of course, I’m sorry, I should’ve asked if you’d like anything on the side.” You bit your bottom lip with embarrassment.

The man was rather distracting, your eyes dragging over and analyzing every feature his face held. He had blue eyes with soft bags, tiresome dark circles and a muscular build. You had an oddly specific type.

“Oh, no, don’t apologize,” he scoffed with a small smile.

You smiled back and turned on the heels of your white sneakers and headed to the kitchen.

“SHE SMELT DELICIOUS,” a deep and grim voice echoed in the brunette’s mind.

“Quit smelling random people like some pervert, V,” the man whispered to himself.

“NOT RANDOM, JUST HER,”

“Well, we can’t eat her,” he bit the flesh on the inside of his cheek as he looked outside the window, his forehead in the palm of his hand.

“WE WILL NOT,” the voice snarled deeply. “GET TIRED OF CHICKENS.”

“I know, V, but you can’t just go around the city beheading random people, so for right now we need to deal with chickens.” He grunted.

“BUT THEY ARE BAD, BAD PEOPLE SHOULD SUFFER AND DIE,” the voice grew louder, irritated by his response. “WE KILL, WE SAVE!”

“Yeah, well, we kill, we also risk our lives, V.”

“SHE IS COMING,” it snarked, evading his head.

The brunette turned his head to watch you walk over to his booth, a muffin and a cup of coffee on a large round tray that you balanced on your open palm, waving at frequent customers with a tug at both corners of your lips.

“I’m sorry for the wait, sir,” you grab the plate and set it on the table along with the mug of java.

“Just call me Eddie,” he nodded as thanks, taking a bite out of the muffin.

You introduced yourself, drumming your fingers on your server book before opening it. “Did you want anything else this morning, Eddie?” You clicked your fuzzy purple pen as you spoke with a bubbly voice.

“WE LIKED THAT,” the voice boomed through his head again causing Eddie to swallow thickly.

“I think we—I’m okay,” he stammered slightly, a nervous smirk curving one corner of his mouth upward.

He was cute, your hip dropped to the side slightly. You bit your lip to suppress a smile, instead giving a small laugh.

“Just wave at me when you’re ready for your bill, okay?” you close the book and turn once again to assist another table.

“HUNGRY,”

“Alright, V, just hold on a second,” Eddie peeled back the cover on the small creamer packet, then poured it into the coffee along with two packets of sugar.

Your fingers dig into the pocket of your apron to take out a few crayons wrapped in plastic and place them on the table along with a kids menu. A small ravenette boy with curly locks and smooth dark skin smiled at you brightly as he took out the green crayon and coloured in the small dinosaurs sprinkled across the kids menu.

“Thank you,” his mother sipped her cup of hot tea, her french-tip nails clicking against the glass as she loops her finger through the handle.

“Of course, what can I start you two off with this morning?” you leaned on your toes, then met back with the ground.

“For him, I think just a small pancake—“ she gently tapped the boy’s knuckles with her thumb, then began signing in what you assumed was American sign language.

You observed closely, watching in awe as he signed back to his mother, an exciting smile never leaving his face as he signed a “thank you,” to you.

You knew a bit of signing from your highschool years, so you replied with “you’re welcome,” enthusiastically, hugging yourself to gesture an air hug.

“A pancake is fine for him, some fruit on the side?” she smiled. “Is pot roast on the menu right now, dear?”

“Yes, there’s about ten more minutes until it’s done, if that is alright with you?” you wrote down the mention of extra fruit in your book.

“As long as it’s fresh, am I right?” she let out a heartwarming laugh, earning a small giggle from you as well. “Oh, and three cornbread biscuits.”

“That’s when it’s best, and sounds great - any juice for the little one?” your eyes dragged over to him craning his neck to sip out of the plastic cup of water that was given to his mother with her tea. Your heart fluttered with baby fever.

She caught his attention once more, signing with her fingers.

“Sprite, thank you,” the mother rejoiced.

You toyed with the hem of your apron. “I’ll have it right out for you two,” you scrambled toward the kitchen.

“WHERE DID SHE GO?”

“She’s helping others,” Eddie swirled the little bit of cold coffee in the bottom of his cup, slowly adjusting himself as he watched you set down a small plastic cup with a yellow lid in front of a child, then a bowl in front of his mother.

You place a straw on the table, then walk back to the brunette who had introduced himself as “Eddie”, which you admired. It fit his face well.

“I’m so sorry for the wait, Eddie,” you smile nervously with your eyebrows pinched together as you hand him his bill and a pen.

“Hey, it’s no problem, seriously.” He took it from your hands, scanning it over. “Thank you,”

“Of course,” you quipped. “Tell me if you need anything, I’ll be back,”

“LITTLE MORSEL,” the voice purred. “WILL WE COME BACK, EDDIE?”

Yeah - yeah, we will, V. Eddie watched you leave to assist another group of people walking into the small café as he took out his wallet, setting down two twenty dollar bills for a tip and his credit card for the rest.

“WANT TO MEET HER,” it grunted.

No, we might never even see her again.

“YOU ARE A LOSER.”

You sped back over, exhaling heavily. “It’s getting busier and busier, I’m sorry for the delay of getting you out the door,”

“No need for all the apologies, seriously,” he scoffed.

“Right, sorry—“ you blinked. “The tip, Eddie, that’s so much,”

“THAT SOUNDS—“

Knock it off, perv.

“I was a journalist, that’s nothing to me,”

Your cheeks flushed, but you thanked him again and guided him to the front desk.

“Any chance you’ll be here tomorrow?”

“YES!” it boomed.

“Actually, I won’t,” you hum sadly.

“NO—“ it snarled.

“But I work every Wednesday through Saturday,” you smiled.

“Okay, good to know,”

Your heart thumped in your chest, you were frozen in place in fear of him actually having the ability to hear, which Eddie himself couldn’t - but he could.

“SHE IS NERVOUS, EDDIE,”

Of us?

“OF YOU,”

Did Eddie want to get to know you more? Or possibly were you just that good of a waitress? God, now you were really overthinking things - is that why he tipped you so much? Did he not actually pique interest in you?

“Are you alright?”

You were so captivated in thought you hadn’t even realized you were still holding the brunette’s credit card in the machine; blinking for you to take it out - you felt your ear tips heat up.

“Sorry, I space out sometimes,” you gently pulled out his credit card and handed it to him, which he grabbed with two fingers.

“Not a problem,” there was a genuine tone on his tongue that delivered you some comfort.

“Have a great day, Eddie,” you waved to him as he left the building which he warmly returned; your heart feeling a sudden loneliness as he escaped your peripheral view.

[folkloresthings]

BECCA!! Congrats on 1k, I love your writing and I’m glad so many other people do too <3

NORTHANGER ABBEY — send a muse + your favourite trope and i’ll write a drabble/blurb.

Could you do Sebastian Vettel + pining/unrequited love but with a happy end? (Kind of à la Amy & Laurie in little women??)

AMY AND LAURIE CODED!!! spot the little women refs

SOMEDAY. ❨ sebastian vettel x reader ❩

✩⡱ warnings: mention of v*mit

the light of sebastian’s presence had lit your life for as long as you could — or wanted to remember. young when you’d first met, you at nineteen and him twenty—four, donning his red bull gear and a world championship. the bar in which you had met wasn’t anything special, tucked away in the heart of valencia. you were travelling with friends, he was working his way towards his second championship.

it was easy to spot him across the bar, all blonde curls and dazzling eyes. a woman hung on his arm, whispering in his ear while a friend—of—a—friend introduced you both. he’d barely looked at you, probably to preoccupied with how the woman’s hands were wandering further south by the minute.

your best friend was more of a racing fan than you, and had coincidentally planned the route of your travels across europe to coincide with the grand prix schedule. the next time you saw him was in budapest, nursing the same drink he’d had in spain but arms bare of playthings for the night.

“vodka soda, please.”

“i remember you,” he had slurred, pointing aimlessly towards you as you spoke across to the barman. “valencia!”

you assumed his exclamation of the city was his connecting of the dots, so you sent him a nod and a small smile. “yeah, we both know joseph.”

“joseph, right,” sebastian mused, vague familiarity dancing across his features. “good guy.”

he looked just as handsome that night as he had in valencia, though slightly drunker. you had heard the tales of the good—looking german driver, your friend spent most of your train journeys across countries gushing about him and half a dozen other names you didn’t recognise.

“here, my treat,” sebastian quickly cut across you before you could pay, shoving a few euros into the barman’s hand. you didn’t bother arguing — he was a world famous formula one driver and you were a full time university student. he could afford a vodka soda better than you could.

“thank you, sebastian.”

“you’re welcome…” he trailed off, searching desperately in his memory for your name.

“y/n,” you offered, a grin tugging at your lips. you couldn’t find it in yourself to be annoyed at his lack of attention, not when his eyes were shining up at you the way they were. he repeated it, your birthright sounding far nicer on his tongue than your own. he’d shaken your hand then, ordering an apology round of shots for his “shameful behaviour”.

a few hours later, you held his belongings as he vomited into an empty alleyway. the streets of budapest were practically deserted, town clock chiming three in the morning. sebastian’s challenge of shot after shot soon became a competition with only himself, ending up much drunker than yourself and with no one around to supervise his stupidity.

thankfully, tucked somewhere in his pocket, was the address of his hotel. you got him there, eventually, after a few stops to sit down or sebastian’s several attempts to climb a wall. you took him all the way to him room, getting him into bed and leaving a note and some painkillers by his side.

from then on, you were friends. even when you went back to university, he did all he could to fly you out to races and let you see a little more of the world. australia, japan, abu dhabi… you’d been there to see him win every world championship, to hug him and celebrate with one too many drinks afterwards. you were still always the one to tuck him in after.

the only problem was, amongst this wonderful friendship, you were completely and utterly in love with him.

he didn’t feel the same. you figured that out one night in monaco when he took you for dinner and snuck you down to the beach afterwards. you kissed him on the sand, naive and innocent, only twenty and unsure of what this would mean. he’d been kind about it, sweet as ever, letting you indulge yourself before letting you down slowly.

“maybe someday, when you’re older.”

his words played in your mind like a broken record every birthday from them on. would this be the year? you tried going out with other boys, but none of them compared to him. your sebastian. every year you got older, so did he, and soon you were twenty—six and him thirty—one.

in those years, you were glad for his wise, older words. they’d kept your friendship intact, giving you your person — the one you could talk to in good times and bad. no matter how painful your love for him was, never fading over time, you kept it all down for the sake of keeping him in your life.

“penny for your thoughts?” sebastian’s usual teasing tone pulls you from your thoughts, the montage of your relationship playing in your head. you glance up at him, forcing on a smile.

“sorry, zoned out for a minute,” you breathed out a laugh, smoothing down the skirt of your dress in the mirror. “how do i look? do i look alright?”

sebastian took a moment to let his eyes rake over your body. the dress was a pale blue colour, adorned with pale white flowers that floated about your ankles. he could only describe it as soft, a light summer dress that moved with the wind but hugged your lines perfectly. god, you were heavenly.

“you look beautiful. you are beautiful.” sebastian’s face had softened considerably, looking at you in a way that could almost be mistaken for love. you stare at him, yearning to decipher the thoughts in his head, but you come up empty.

inhaling some feeling back into your body, you move from his gaze. “i better go. robb will be waiting.”

robb. sebastian had been with you when you met. a grand event, drivers and socialites alike. sebastian had gone to get you both a drink when he returned to find the man flirting with you. you were smiling and laughing, your hand finding it’s place on the man’s arm. sebastian turned on his heel and left you to it, finishing both of your drinks in his stride.

since then, you had been to dinner with robb twice. he was charming, funny and sweet, knew just how to woo you. admittedly, you struggled to find the spark that people often spoke of, but you were willing to pass it up for a chance at some kind of romance. sebastian, however, found himself battling with this strange feeling in his stomach every time you spoke to him about robb.

he could feel it again now, watching you skip off to meet your date. twisting and tugging, nausea rising in his chest. it was a new feeling, and one that he hated having. it was selfish of him but he couldn’t help it — you had been his for so long, only his, and now you were slipping away.

“ — but it’s far too cold there to live all year…” chuckling at robb’s latest tale, you felt the words on your tongue fade as he appeared nearby. you had told sebastian where you and robb were going, a small jazz bar with expensive cocktails and live music. so why had he come?

“seb?”

he smiled, brows furrowing in faux confusion. “oh, hey you two. fancy seeing you here.”

if looks could kill, sebastian would be six feet under by now. your glare was cold, but missed completely by robb as he engaged in conversation with your friend. for the next thirty minutes, you didn’t say a word. you didn’t get a chance, with robb asking sebastian a million questions on racing and the latter gladly entertaining him.

“excuse me,” you muttered, grabbing your bag and pushing yourself from the chair. your date barely noticed, staring at a picture on sebastian’s phone. the blonde watched you go, snatching his device back and following you without a second thought.

“hey, y/n! wait!” he hurried after you down the street, struggling to keep up with your hurried pace. “y/n!”

his arm reached out to grab you, spinning you on your heel to face him. he knew with one look that you were mad, and he suddenly regretted every choice he’d made that evening. “what?”

“where are you going?” he asked, rather sheepish.

“i’m going home, sebastian,” your voice was sharp, cheeks red with anger and embarrassment. “my date seems pretty occupied with you in there, so i’m leaving.”

“no, wait…” he grappled desperately, grabbing at your wrist again to keep you there. his lips part, searching for an excuse, but nothing comes out.

“you knew i was coming here tonight! why would you show up when you knew?” seething, tears pricked at your eyes. you cursed yourself for the german making you such a mess. “i told you how excited i was and you purposely came to ruin it! why?”

sebastian sighed, silent. all of that jealously turned to hatred, for himself and his stupid, stupid heart. “i’m sorry.”

you looked at him, waiting for more. needing more than just that.

“i’m sorry, i just — i hated seeing you so happy,” as soon as it was out, as soon as he saw your face twist, he knew it didn’t sound right. “no, shit. not like that. i wasn’t the one making you happy and it felt awful. i didn’t want to see you with anyone else. y/n… i’ve been such an idiot.”

the words sunk in as he tried to tangle his fingers in you, squeezing himself closer to you in the street. your head shook, backing away with every inch he moved closer.

“no, no. seb, don’t do this,” you muttered, ignoring his pleas for your forgiveness. you felt dizzy, all of this coming to soon. “seb, you’re being mean. stop it.”

with your voice sterner, he took a step back.

“i’ve waited for you for seven years. i waited and you never came, but the second i find somebody else you figure it out?” tongue laced with disbelief, you felt your feet stumble on the cobbles below. sebastian reached out to you, worry crossing his face. he felt terrible. he’d put you through so much and expected even more.

“i know,” sebastian whispered, daring to step closer again. you let him now, proving yourself weak to his affection once again. his hand finds your cheek, warming it from the night air, your head resting against his hold. “i’m a fool. i didn’t realise it before but i’ve been in love with you for so long. i don’t know when it happened, but it did. and there’s nothing i can do about it but beg you to forgive me.”

your eyes turn soft, melting into his confessional. everything you’d waited for and dreamed of, the words that haunted you for years of sleepless nights. it was happening and none of it felt real. seven years of wanting it, and now you were hesitant.

“will you forgive me?” sebastian pleads, thumbs rubbing gently at the flesh of your cheeks. his lips, ready for yours, but not until you are. “i’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you. i promise.”

you smile, because how can you not? when he’s looking at you like you’re the one who hung the moon and the stars — but he’s the sun. your sun, your light, your love.

“yes.” it’s a whisper when it finally comes, but he hears it. his own smile creeps up, squeezing you in delight.

“yes?” he repeats, waiting for you to confirm it again. you do, and he wastes no time in kissing you. not like that night on the beach, young and unsure, but full of love and certainty. because he loves you, with everything he is, and he needs to show you. all soft lips and daring tongues, arms winding around your waist to pull you flush to him.

he loves you and you love him. at the end of the day, or seven years, there’s nothing else that really matters.

[writingquestionsanswered]

Hi how are things! I wanted to know how I could improve a marriage discussion scene. I feel like it's very monotonous and I would need more body language, I just don't know how. Thank you so much!

Creating Interest in Conversation Scene

There are a number of things you can do (besides just adding body language...)

1 - Consider Character Emotions - Before you can really add body language (posture, gestures, and facial expressions), you need to have a good understanding of how your characters feel about what they're discussing, how they feel about each other, how they feel about the environment, and just how they feel in general. How they're feeling will come out not just in their posture, gestures, and facial expressions, but in the tone of their voice, what they say, and how they say it. The Emotion Thesaurus by Angela Ackerman and Becca Puglisi is is a great resource for how to portray emotions using both external and internal cues.

2 - Consider Sensory Description - Sensory description can be a great way to add interest to a conversation scene. Think about what you characters see, hear, touch, smell, and taste during this conversation. How does this sensory input affect their mood, their relationship/interaction with the environment, and their relationship/interaction with one another? How does in influence what they say, think, and do? How does it affect their body language? How can you convey this to the reader?

3 - Consider Interaction - We talk about using body language to avoid "talking head syndrome"--where the conversing characters seem to be just talking heads without bodies--but another way to do that is by having the characters interact with themselves (smoothing out a wrinkle in their skirt, twirling their hair, scratching their arm, taking a sip of a drink), with other characters (handing someone something, giving someone a pat on the shoulder, taking someone's hand), and with the environment (setting something down on a table, picking something up to look at it, moving something aside, utilizing a tool or object). This not only adds realistic action to the moment, but it also brings movement and visual interest to the conversation.

4 - Consider the Subject Matter - One last thing to consider, though, is that even without these things, your characters' conversation shouldn't feel "monotonous." If that's the case, you may need to take a closer look at what they're talking about. Why is this conversation important for them to have? Does it move the story forward or contribute to character development? Does it tell the reader information that they need to know in order to understand the plot? If not, you may need to consider trimming this conversation or figuring out how to make it pull its weight in the story.

I hope that helps!

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