#maintaining mutts

[maintaining-mutts]

SCREAMING I DIDN'T REALIZE THERE'S A FUCKING LIFESTEAL FANDOM ON TUMBLR HOLY SHIT IM SCREAMING J LOVE LIFESTEAL AFE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME OH TMC GEOS HOLY AJANRIANCBAKXBN

[golden-girl-daisy]

Poor Honey has arthritis in both of her shoulders even though she’s only 3. The vet suggested she try PRP therapy

[konigsblog]

Giving Loser!König a handjob + blowjob. (🌽 link)

König is aroused by the size difference and the attention he receives from you. He finds it amusing that you struggle to wrap your fingers around the shaft of his girthy, lengthy cock. König's pale cheeks flush a rosy red at your surprised reaction, embarrassed by the way his hefty, hung cock springs from his boxers, almost too excited and thrilled to be in this position.

He looks away, averting his gaze from you as he shifts in his seat impatiently, waiting to feel your soothing, calming touch against his twitching, aching cock. König would be ashamed to admit that he's never felt the touch of a woman before, that they glare at him, judging him for his creepy and pushy behaviour and entitled attitude. But regardless, it's pretty obvious by his lack of experience, how he distances himself or obsesses over his new crush, and how he struggles to maintain a conversation with you without becoming perverted.

König's cock is incredibly large, and that's not an exaggeration. His slick, bulbous dick aches and twitches at your mesmerising touch. He's never received a handjob from another woman. Usually, his day consists of getting himself off for hours, until he's barely conscious and heaving like a filthy, dirty mutt in heat. He takes in a sharp breath and shudders, his eyes widening as you spit a glob of pearly saliva onto his weeping, drooling boner.

How can he hold it together when he has a pretty woman sucking him off, fawning over the ridiculously large size of his stiff, sweaty cock? König would be lying if he said he didn't appreciate the attention. Your compliments feed directly into his ego, and the addictive and hypnotising sensation of your fingers barely wrapped around his base and your warm, soft lips against his creamy tip leaves König delirious, barely able to mumble or string together a coherent sentence through ecstasy and pleasure.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yandere Contained Monstrous Family (2)

Part 1

Unfortunately for the monster couple, this wouldn’t be easy

Your guardian your abductor+ is incredibly protective of you and the facility

Your uncle—your beloved guardian’s hate for all monster types is clear to everyone

Especially you, which is why you’ve taken it upon yourself to prioritize the upkeep of the creatures he imprisons

It’s only right that you should as the only person with the key to the intimidating man’s cold heart

That doesn’t mean that the monsters you maintain are free of pain

Far from it

“Hello, mutt.”

“...Grrr.”

“Puffing your chest never scares me. So…I heard you won’t behave unless my dear sweetums examines you themself?”

“...”

“So silent it’s like you're asking for my toys to make you cry.”

Unbeknownst to you, your Uncle knows exactly who’s in these cages

And that may fuel his urge to be harsher than usual

“Uncle! You can’t increase the electrocution anymore! You’ll fry that moth boy to death!”

“Calm child I wasn’t actually going to flip the switch that far…..”

“....Right then you won’t have a problem with me confiscating the batteries for this?”

“...Can I…get it back now?”

“Not until you’ve cooled off and promise not to kill him when I leave.”

"Awwww!"

Your uncle isn’t necessarily happy that you now care for the monsters he saved you from 

But he feels much better when he can watch the monsters wail and cry behind the bars of the cells he’s put them in

“This is why I rely on you (Y/n)...your forgiving nature gives you a power hardly anyone here can muster.”

“Sympathy?”

“Yes, for these monsters that eat babies, massacre mothers, and drain fathers. You truly are a treasure. My treasure.”

“Thank you, Uncle.”

“I love you dearly (Y/N). Which reminds me, don’t forget we have dinner later! Once you’re done fixing that insect, we’ll get mocktails and chat the night away.”

“Alright, Uncle see you later.”

The joy of their torturer stings 

But your care soothes even better

Even when the siblings haven’t quite recognized you for who you are yet 

They can’t help but gravitate towards you

“Waahhh~!”

“Alright don’t cry anymore, I’ll turn your lamp back on.”

“Wait! When you do will you keep patting my back?”

“Oh alright.”

“Yay!”

To be continued

[kisakis-boyfriend]

Ah I see well if that's the case ♦️ I would like to request Sub Albedo "experimenting" on Dom male reader. Which is a excuse to have rough sex.

Author's Note: The concept I went with is; Albedo is testing out a new potion that causes Reader to get suuuuper horny, so Reader indulges his urges and this leads to very rough, primal fucking (something that Albedo 100% planned on/wished for). I hope that works for you, anon! :3

Pairings: Albedo x male reader

Warnings: Male!reader, dom/top!reader, sub/bottom!Albedo, rough sex, handjob, blowjob, dirty talk, dry humping, reader gains an inhuman amount of stamina temporarily

“How is it?”

You attempt to stifle an incoming burp before replying, “Not… great. Not the worst taste either.”

Albedo smiles faintly, penning something down before he turns towards the table behind him. He reaches for a glass jar filled with small, crystalline objects and pulls one out.

“Here,” he says, placing the object in your palm. “this should help with the taste without disturbing the potion.” You smile and thank him, popping the small—what you now realize is candy—into your mouth. Its sweetness coats your tongue, erasing the weird bitterness of Albedo's concoction. It's rather nice, actually.

Minutes pass by. Your partner asks you a few more questions and notes down your answers, then turns back to tinker with some other glass beaker (filled with another strangely coloured liquid), leaving you to remain seated on an adjacent table as the potion he had you test sets in.

At first, you didn't feel any different — no sudden change in body temperature, not a single gurgle from your stomach, nor any hallucinations to be found. Although… the newfound tightness of your pants was undeniable…

“Mmrgh…” a groan escapes you, but you don't think Albedo notices. He's too focused on maintaining the temperature of that other potion.

The throbbing between your legs is in sync with your heartbeat; growing louder by the second and speeding up as your thighs tense and twitch all on their own.

“H-hey… 'Bedo?”

“Hm?” He doesn't turn around yet.

“Is that… supposed to make me feel warm? Like, real warm?” you ask, chest heaving greatly.

Albedo holds a beaker up and swirls the liquid inside around as he replies, “It is a possibility. Is your body temperature increasing?”

You pant. Dragonspine definitely shouldn't feel so hot… not even in the comfort of your partner's cave-lab, tucked away from the icy wind that plagues the rest of the mountain. “I… maybe? It's hard to tell by myself.”

Finally, he turns around to face you. His face is as unreadable as always as he walks over and begins to inspect you; placing the back of his gloved hand to your forehead. Albedo pivots back around to retrieve his clipboard and pen, writing something down again.

By now, you're humping the air, desperate to feel a little friction against your dick as it strains against your pants. Either Albedo is oblivious, or he's ignoring it, because he keeps asking questions even while you're grinding against your own pants…

But that's not enough… “Hey, c-can I… see your hand a sec?” your voice is hushed, but the alchemist hears your request and holds out his hand for you anyways.

He gasps, unmoving as he lets you put his hand in between your legs; you're grinding even harder, the tent in your pants pressing hard against his palm, and your precum leaks through the fabric easily. You moan and lean your head back as a small wave of relief eases the searing ache that racked your body before. Now you simply used Albedo's hand as an object to hump, like a pathetic mutt in heat. And, thankfully, he didn't stop you. Albedo allowed you to become this crude display, even tossing the clipboard aside so both hands could cup your erection and stroke it (which you were undoubtedly grateful for!)

“Fascinating…” he mutters, just as you feel a chill on your dick as Albedo pulls it out, his hands wrapping around your length fully. It takes both of his hands to fully work your cock; they glide up and down expertly, spreading every dribble of precum. The rough texture of his gloves adds to the pleasure—not rough enough to be unpleasant or painful, but just enough to spice up an already amazing handjob. Albedo's skills have improved so much ever since you started dating.

The cold table knocks against the stone ground underneath as you shamelessly thrust up into your partner's fists. The surface chips with every clench of your fists, your nails dig in harshly and create marks as the tips of Albedo's fingers graze against your cock head. He knows how to play with your body in such a way that would make you bend to his will; relentless teasing and touching so, so close to where you need him to. But he doesn't. He leaves you wanting more, even as he gives you so much already.

Your breath hitches when he rubs the head once more, and you wheeze out “Fuck–!! Fuck… baby… please…!! You're gonna use more than just yer hands, right?”

Albedo meets your gaze, and you can barely make out the flicker of excitement in his eyes. His movement halts as he tilts his head, asking “Did you have something particular in mind?”

Before the alchemist can say more, he finds himself pushed between your legs, face smushed against your glistening, throbbing cock. The smell alone makes him dizzy. Just being in this position, in such close proximity to your dick, has Albedo growing hard himself, eyes half-lidded and tongue licking the underside of your cock almost mindlessly.

“Suck it.” you half plead, half command. He planned to anyway, but it's not like he has much of a choice with your heavy hand pushing his head down, forcing him to swallow half of your cock right away. He coughs, squeezing your thighs in a slight panic before adjusting to the steady thrusting of your hips. You keep both hands firmly on Albedo's head now, holding it in place as you fuck his warm mouth.

“Mmph! Mhm, suck that cock, babe- yeah–!!” A shaky breath surprises you, brought on by the alchemist playing with your balls while you use him.

It doesn't take much more for you to fill his mouth — a thick load of cum, which Albedo swallows easily. Whatever didn't go down dribbles down his chin, hanging there as he catches his breath.

Though you just came seconds ago, you notice that your dick is still standing upright, hard as it was and coated in the aftermath of that sudden blowjob. Whatever Albedo used in that potion must be messing with your hormones, because that primal desire to fuck—to bury your cock in a tight hole and breed them stupid—was still gnawing at your conscience.

Before he could register your movement, the chalk prince found himself bent over the table you were just sitting on; pinned by a hand on the small of his back, and teased as you push your stiff cock in between his cheeks, grinding fervently.

But it's not enough… he's wearing far too much clothing right now–

Albedo yelps, startled when he feels the fabric covering his ass tear. A large hole left him wide open, and you don't hesitate in slamming your dick inside of him. To your surprise, your dirty boyfriend must have prepped himself, because his hole was already slick and slightly loose when you entered.

“Oooohh shit~ Oh my god– haha, were you hoping for this, Albedo?” you growled, smacking his ass. “You dirty bitch, you just wanted- fuck! …you just wanted me to pound you, right?” Albedo bit his lower lip, peering at you over his shoulder with a look that confirmed your suspicion.

Well if that's what he wants, then you'll happily give him a real pounding; fit for a prince 💛

You grip his shoulders and speed up, hitting his sweet spot. His walls squeeze your dick, milking another load out of you. …Except, this time, you don't stop. Despite your orgasm, you don't feel the need to recover; instead, you keep that bruising pace while Albedo cries out, swearing and gasping.

The table bangs absurdly loud with every thrust, scooting across the mountain floor until it's up against the wall. The alchemist screams in ecstasy, repeating “yesyesyesyesyesyes–!! ”. You're hammering your semen deeper inside, listening to the squishy sounds of your boyfriend's hole, watching your length disappear as he takes all of it.

“Gonna cum again! Take it, baby- take all of it—!!” with a grunt, you finish inside of him again. Albedo's body lifts up as you push inside as deep as physically possible, his feet dangling off the ground as his eyes roll back, and a silent moan falls from his open mouth.

You both remain there, shaking—trembling—until your muscles give out and you collapse on top of him. Neither one has the strength to move for a while.

Albedo hums when he feels you nuzzle against him with your cheek. Your hands remain on him in some manner; trailing up and down his sides, reaching up to tangle with his hands, or thumbing at his lip softly. He whines, a familiar throbbing sensation buried in his guts signaling that the effects of that potion haven't quite worn off yet……

[charliemwrites]

Part 2 of mean ghost

Content: Simon being mean (again), non-con touching (not sexual), established kidnapping

You do this thing when you think you’re alone. Stretch out nice and slow - back arched, arms up, head back. You make a little noise in the back of your throat and then sigh nice and long as you relax. Sometimes even catch a yawn, rubbing at your eyes to fight off a wave of sleepiness.

You do it after waking from naps, cleaning, showering, even just sitting still for too long. If he interrupts - or you think he’s going to - you shrink down again, take up as little space as possible and try to work through your limbs one by one. Try to remain unnoticed, unobtrusive.

His stealth has never been so handy.

The most tempting is when you’re on the couch. You’ll lie on your stomach and stretch, ass tilting up like an offering. Then you’ll flop out all limp and satisfied, arms folded under your head, ankles crossed prim and proper. He wants to sink his teeth into the plush fat of your thigh.

“Wh-hey!”

You squirm; Simon’s having none of it, pins you with a harsh hand on the back of your neck. You yelp in surprise and discomfort, going still only because you have to. Unhindered, he continues to yank your joggers down over your ass, peels them to mid-thigh.

No bite marks.

“Fuckin’ mutt,” he grumbles to himself. “Doesn’t know how to play with you right.”

You make a high-pitched, distressed sound, hips shifting uneasily.

“Hush up,” he tells you absently.

You whine again, quieter this time, hands balling up into tight little fists by your head. He stares at the bare skin of your thighs, smooth and unmarked. Is sorely tempted to touch. Bruise. Bite.

Yanks your pants back up again instead and lets you go.

You scramble to the far side of the couch, curl up with your knees to your chest. Stare at him with big wet eyes.

“Wh-what…?” you breathe. “Why?”

He tilts his head. Your hair is all mussed up now, cheeks flushing with color and paling at intervals. Body not knowing how to react.

“I-I was just… sitting there,” you say like you’re trying to rationalize it to yourself.

“Because I wanted to,” he replies. That’s really all the explanation you need.

You sniffle a bit, blinking rapidly. Lashes already wet and sticking together with unshed tears. The light glitters in them.

“Was that scary?” he asks, taunting.

You sniffle again and don’t answer, pressing your lips together to keep them from trembling.

He rises onto the couch, still maintaining the distance you made. Stares as your eyes drop to your fidgety fingers, twisting and rubbing together to self-soothe. Keeps staring as you wrestle your breathing under control. Tuck your elbows into your side, compact. All set to hunker down until the predator loses interest.

“C’mere.”

Your head snaps up, breath hitching.

“M-me?”

“Who the fuck else?”

You lick your lips nervously, uncoiling a bit in a bid to buy yourself time.

“Y-you want me… over… there?” you say it like translating an unfamiliar language.

“Told you to c’mere didn’t I?” he rumbles. “And what’d I say ‘bout repeatin’ myself?”

“S-sorry,” you say, hands up as if in surrender. “Just… I just wanted to make sure I understood.”

“Thought I made myself pretty fuckin’ clear.”

Your silence and darting gaze disagree; he gives you a pass only because you scoot a bit closer. Within arms reach again. His hands twitch on his thighs. Your eyes dart down to the movement instantly, so hyperaware.

He flips his hand, curls a finger, beckoning you closer.

Your expression twitches, a complex amalgamation of the stages of grief. Then swallow and inch just a bit closer, as much as you seem able to stand. The tiniest sliver of heated air separates your bodies now, yours angled towards his with his weight on the cushion.

Fidgety hands again, and biting at your lip. About to shake out of your skin.

“What do you call me?” he asks.

You blink, head popping back a bit in genuine surprise. “Um… could you — what do you mean…?”

He narrows his eyes a bit, parsing your expression. If it were Johnny, he could make the biggest, saddest, wettest eyes in the world and Simon would know he’s being a fucking brat. Asking questions just to poke holes in his paper thin patience.

You, however, seem to be asking out of an abundance of caution. A desire to please him on the first try rather than risk failing at all.

“If you needed my attention,” he says slowly, watching a nonverbal I-would-never cross your pretty, vulnerable face, “how would you call for me?”

You tilt your chin down a bit. Tongue and teeth for weights and measures.

“I-I’d say ‘excuse me’,” you begin slowly. “Or, um, I guess if… if I was in another room…”

A longer pause this time. Long enough that he’s about to bark at you to spit it out.

“Mister lieutenant Ghost… sir…?”

He stares for a second. Feels the corners of his mouth twitching beneath the mask.

Makes his voice deep as he growls, “You call me sir or mister. Nothing more nothing less. Understand?”

You nod quickly. “Mhm.”

He narrows his eyes. You blink in return, notice he’s expecting something. Fidget again.

“Um, th-thank you,” you offer.

He huffs. Christ, what’s Johnny been fucking doing with you all this time? So polite and quick to learn, you just don’t know your manners yet. Haven’t been taught.

“Thank you, what?” he prompts.

“Oh,” you say as it clicks. “Thank you… sir?”

“You’re not sure if you’re grateful now?” he tsks.

“No!” you put your hands out quickly, trying to placate - still so, so careful not to touch. “I-I mean yes… um, yes sir. I… uh, thank you, sir.”

He considers you. Waits until you swallow thickly, leaning away as far as you can without scooting away again. Get that pretty gleam of tears again.

Clicks his tongue. “Off you go, then.”

You don’t ask where, just dart off the couch.

“We’ll work on it.”

Previous | Next

Masterlist

[xazse]

more afab!satosugu x male!reader pls 🥹

Sorry this is just gonna be a quick thirst And NOT PROOF READ! SMUTT

Afab Satoru who loves when you eat him out from the back, spread his cunt nice and wide and finger him with your thick tongue. Don’t let up until you feel his pussy twitch and he’s cumming all over your face.

Afab Suguru who loves when you embarrass and degrade him as he bounces on your cock, calling him all sorts of names like bitch, mutt, anything you can think of. You aren’t helping him even a little bit as he tries to gather the strength to make himself cum.

Force Afab Satoru and Suguru to make out in front of you, make them suck on each others tongues, make them keep kissing until spit and drool starts to seep from their mouths. Of course you should make them rub their pussies together while maintaining eye contact with you the entire time, first one to cum loses the privilege of fucking themselves on your cock.

Afab Satoru and Suguru who have to resort to fingering each other on days where you’re busy, those days are spent with them making each other cum for hours: until one of them eventually taps out.

Afab Satoru who tries to find you in other people after a bad argument, it never works out and he comes crawling back into your bed at late hours of the night to hug your sleeping form.

Afab Suguru who doesn’t like when you talk to other people besides himself and Satoru. He has bad jealously issues he hasn’t attempted to work on.

You, who makes both of them suck you off, Suguru licking and pawing at your heavy balls and Satoru who traces the veins of your cock and definitely not neglecting your tip.

You who forces Suguru to suck on Satorus clit everytime his jealously gets in the way of your personal relations. You add fuel to the fire by also fucking Satoru whilst he does it. Satoru is dumb by this point: his heady head struggling to focus on two pleasure points.

Afab Satoru and Suguru who loves when you jerk off on their faces, mouths wide open, ready to accept anything you give them.

[killerpancakeburger]

Imagining a Soap who snaps at Reader on their first meeting.

Pic is from one of @esteljune wonderful gifs <3

Thinking they're higher up the ladder than they really are, he rants about unfair or illogical orders. Price, Reader's superior, smiles knowingly while witnessing the scene, but doesn't interfere— you may not look very imposing, but if there's one thing you don't tolerate, it's being berated for something that isn’t your fault.

Once Johnny's rhythm starts to falter, only then you speak up.

"Are you done?"

Your tone is acid, the question rhetorical— but the sergeant is so lost in his resentment that he misses it. He makes the mistake of opening his mouth again. You don’t leave him the opportunity to answer.

You rip into him overtly, yet not without maintaining the polished language that suits a professional relationship. If anything, it only makes the result stings your target more.

After saying your piece, you walk off without sparing him a single gaze, like he already stopped existing in your mind. All he can do is watch you leave in abrupt silence, mouth agape, Price smacking his back with mock sympathy. 

His captain is saying something about thinking twice, but his brain is spinning with thoughts of you.

In the ensuing days, he finds himself stupidly, irrevocably obsessed by you, undeniably infatuated. He follows you around despite himself, reminding you of a lost puppy. Gone is the angry mutt that barked and snarled at you.

At first his presence only manages to amplify your disdain, but eventually his genuine efforts to earn your forgiveness and, later, forge your friendship, bear fruit.

I am SUCH A SUCKER for the "character A get told off completely unexpectedly by character B and becomes obsessed with them afterwards" trope— even better if A has a scary reputation (whether true or not) and B is a sweetheart or a scaredy-cat.

[whinydrippypuppiesparadise]

maybe my owner has been filling my ass for longer and longer every day, and this morning my hole feels almost painfully sore from the constant training it's been getting. i'm busy doing something, probably cleaning up after breakfast or busy making whatever morning drink my owner has ordered me to make today, when they come up behind me and wordlessly start pushing my clothes, an outfit they had picked out for me earlier, to the side and out of the way. "please, no, not again..." i mumble at them, meekly trying and failing to push their hands away. "why not?" they've moved my clothes out of the way and are grabbing my ass now, playing with the meat of my cheeks rudely. "it... it hurts... it's so sore, i think the skin must have broken or something... please don't..." they give me a concerned hum as they situate themself behind me, spreading my cheeks apart wide and examining me. they stay there for longer than i expect them to, even pulling out a flashlight, gentle and analytical with their spreading and tugging and prodding. the flashlight eventually clicks off and they suddenly spit hard directly onto my asshole. "it's okay dumb mutt, i checked and you don't have any injuries or anything, i promise." they start massaging their spit in. "n-no!! don't!! please don't, i can't take it again today!!" i feel the lubed tip of the now familiar plug settle against the entrance, and i can't hold back a sob. "silly bratty thing, you can and you will take it, your sopping cunt was telling me just now how badly you want this." the plug glides in almost too easily, and once it's fully in they reach with their other hand to start playing gently with my front, tracing their finger delicately back and forth between my cock and my cunt. they keep one hand on the plug, maintaining pressure on it so that my ass sucks it in further and further with each throb of my cock. "did silly puppy just need some of this, is that it?" they press gently on my urethra and i can only whine and squeak and moan in response. "my poor angel, it's ok, see? you can take it." they keep slowly and methodically slipping their finger back and forth, back and forth, slottted neatly into my heat, going until even my folds hugging their finger become rigidly stiff. when they pull their hands away i whimper, having become adequately aroused and close to the edge, but i know better than to reach down and keep touching myself. "that's enough for now, puppy." they loosely pull my clothes almost back into place on my body, and when i try to readjust them they smack my hand away. "leave it." they grab my arm firmly and press up against me, biting and licking at my neck and ear, making me wince and squirm. "go ahead and finish up here pup, i've got lots planned for you today, and we should head out soon if we want to get any of it done. your day has only just started." they pinch my ass hard enough to bruise me before leaving me to finish my task.

[thriftedtchotchkes]

safe & sound

pairing: finnick odair x reader

summary: after years of hard nights and bad dreams, finnick knows better than anyone how to make you feel safe again

warnings: post-mockingjay, established relationship, victor!reader, fluff, comfort, nightmares, brief depictions of death & anxiety

word count: 1.2k

(based on this request, tysm <3)

Callused fingers cradle your cheek while soft lips pepper softer kisses down the slope of your neck. They're a welcome reprieve from the terror that lingers after yet another bad dream.

Yet another night, forced to relive the greatest horrors of your short lifetime. Sometimes it's the arena, your hands covered in the blood of your fellow tributes, their small faces frozen in their final moments of fear.

Tonight's was somehow even worse. It was him, cruelly dismembered while you watched uselessly from the top of that damned ladder. You can still hear them clear as day, hissing your name instead of the Mockingjay's with voices much too human for their mutated, reptilian bodies.

But the games and the war are over now, you know that. You're not trapped in those tunnels anymore, or desperately tugging the love of your life to safety as the Capitol's mutts snap at his ankles in their violent attempts to drag him to his death.

Because in the waking world, they didn't. Finnick is right next to you, whispering sweet nothings in your ear that mean everything. Those gentle words spoken in the dark mean he's still alive.

"Open your eyes, sweetheart. It's not real. None of it is real," he mumbles carefully, shifting to mouth at the sweat-slick skin just below your jaw. The deep timbre and vibration of his voice are soothing, if only a little. "Take a deep breath—in through your nose, out through your mouth. Do it with me, come on."

You do as he says, tensing in anticipation, preparing for the overwhelming scent of roses, but it never comes. Instead, you smell seawater. It's strongest in his sleep-tousled curls, so you nose into them and breathe him in, letting your focus drift elsewhere. Somewhere safe.

Your next exhale is a little steadier, even more still when you repeat the action with him, once then twice. Slowly, everything you see, feel, smell, taste, is him. His lips meet yours, and your eyes remain open even as his flutter closed in your desperation to keep the familiar, nightmarish images that dance behind your eyelids at bay.

But as he coaxes your mouth open and buries his fingers in your hair to pull you closer, everything else begins to fade away. There's only Finnick.

You repeat it to yourself like a mantra—there's no one else here but Finnick. He's right here.

Blunt nails gently scratch your scalp, tensing to keep you near, to maintain the grounding pressure of his lips against yours, and the kiss deepens. But there's no heat behind it. Only the potent taste of sugar cubes and the persistent bite of determination. He won't give up until he banishes every awful recollection and replaces them with newer memories of comfort and peace—at least for the night.

Eventually, he pulls away, chastely pecking your lips a few more times when you chase him. Immediately, you feel colder, and as if he can sense it, he pulls you flush against him, resting his cheek on your collarbone.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" he asks, a faint murmur as he peers up to meet your gaze.

There's concern in his eyes, and you wonder if you were screaming again. God, you hope not. It happens often enough, but even so, it's not something you think either of you will ever get used to.

You sigh and start to shake your head, but stop short. Do you want to talk about it? The answer is usually a resounding no—why dwell on anything that causes so much pain, that you've discussed over and over, practically to death?

And yet, for the first time in a long time, there are words on the tip of your tongue desperate to escape. Tonight, you actually do.

"It was bad, Finn," you whisper shakily, still falsely convinced you need to remain quiet so you're not overheard. "They got you this time. Tore you apart...ripped you to shreds, and I did nothing. None of us did. We let you die—sacrificed you for some greater good, but no one even tried," you spit out, your voice rising in anger the longer you recall your dream. "We could've saved you. We chose not to."

He stays silent, his arms tightening around you as a reminder of your reality. You're positive he can feel you trembling, and his brows knit together in what anyone else would assume is sympathy. But he understands. He felt that crippling fear back then and he feels it radiating off of you in waves right now.

Fighting to hide the intensifying quiver of your lips, you breathe sharply out your nose to dispel your misplaced blame. You didn't lose him, and so of course there's no one at fault. You repeat that like a mantra, too.

"You know, sometimes I wake up searching for you. l expect you to be gone like you were never here at all," you mumble numbly, but your body betrays you, finally giving in to the burning behind your eyes. "It feels like I'm suffocating. I can't breathe no matter how hard I try, and there's this huge weight on my chest, this crushing loneliness I can't shake."

A few stray tears fall against your will, and he brushes them away with a gentle swipe of his thumb before you can rub your skin raw. He cups your cheeks again, guiding you down for another kiss, and it's salty and wet, just like seawater.

You suddenly feel overwhelmingly grateful. Night after night, you go through this same routine, and he calms you without question or complaint, lovingly. After so many years, it feels like second nature to both of you. And when he has his bad nights, quieter than yours but no less traumatic, you soothe his unrest with stories from your childhood, of ocean spray and fishing nets filled to the brim on a stormy day.

Rolling you onto your back, he braces himself on his elbows to keep from crushing you while he shields you from the rest of the world. This bed—the light, scratchy fibers of home woven into your blanket and pillowcases—is the only world that matters, the one you've made for yourselves.

Finnick kisses you breathless, then fills your lungs with his air. You feel lighter. Relieved. Then he speaks and his voice is like a lullaby, better than any bedtime story with a happy ending meant only for you.

"But you always find me, right? When you open your eyes, I'm always here," he says so earnestly that it must be true. You nod, your eyelids growing heavier as the world fades into a wash of bronze and seafoam green. "It's okay to close them. Get some rest. I promise you, I'll be waiting right here in the morning when you wake up."

As you drift off, he lowers his body to rest carefully on top of yours, and his heat acts as a blanket to shelter you against the cool, salty breeze filtering in through an open window.

You're home. You're safe. Tonight, you believe it.

thanks for reading!

[maintaining-mutts]

[ginnysgraffiti]

Hiii. I wanna say I love your works for all of Timmy’s characters. Ive gotten back into my timothee obsession and after reading your fic on what each character tastes like i was thinking maybe what sex is like with each of his characters? Feel free to ignore this if you don’t want to do it just thought I’d shoot my shot!❤️

so touched to see that someone appreciates my stories TT

i really tried my best with this, i hope i didn't leave any grammar mistakes here and there, enjoy! <3

&. LEE

for a while, lee refused to have sex. he was terrified of hurting you.

however, when you reassured him and told him it was completely okay, he let himself lose it completely and follow his instincts.

that's why sex with lee is rough, primal and wet, and you never actually doubted that.

nights passed in his pick-up, in motels where he would let you stay just to have more comfort and mainly a proper bed, at his aunt's house, anything.

sex with lee would be amazing everywhere, and not a time where he would refuse to dirty talk to you in the meanwhile.

he can fuck. over and over. he's like a rabbit. talking about him slowing down or stopping by himself, the thought wouldn't even cross his mind if your voice doesn't beg for it. he's fast. that's it. he's so damn fast, rough and shameless. he isn't used to matching his pace with his partner's or even taking their time with them, so it would take him some time to get used to your preferences or just maintain control.

lee would be sooooo loud. he would whine and grunt and beg. he also loves when you suck his fingers.

he even ties you up and blindfolds you while playing with your clit, thrilling the fact that you're oblivious about his next move.

the first time would probably be in some natural reserves, where he likes to spend most of his nights. he would fuck you hard on the back of his pickup, so the bright and shining stars could be the only witnesses. he would then take you inside, place you on the front seat and cuddle you to sleep on his lap.

he would start with needy and hungry kisses. everywhere. his tattooed hands would overstimulate you well to hear your moans even before starting. it would be the best adventure ever. he would try anything, all in. he would make sure to use his bony finger as best as he can, he would spread your legs like no one else and start with the damage. the real damage. because once he has the green light (and he always wants your permission) he won't stop. he will destroy you in any way possible. then, he would gradually slow down, return to use his fingers and feel you closer and closer.

he would watch hypnotized as milky fluid, both his cum and yours, leaks from inside of you. he would worship you as his most precious treasure.

&. HAL

do we seriously need to read how it would be to have sex with hal to imagine it?

there's not even the need to say anything, he's already on top of you.

hal is absolutely vocal, desperate groans, loud curses that never leave his mouth.

his mouth is always, always wide open as his pupils roll back.

dom for sure, he's too prideful to be below you, but if you beg enough, maybe he'll let you inside him. he's into fucking you when you're on all fours on the bed, maybe it's a king-thing, but you love it.

he never actually stops when you beg him to, but he absolutely cares about your body after the act.

you're his queen, but when hal is needy you can happily forget about your queen duties. his words, not yours.

he's also into pet play, you're his mutt and he makes it known.

he often enjoys to make you scream his name, moan louder and louder to make sure the messengers, maids or court servants hear you through the door.

making them hear the bed cracking, the slaps he keeps giving you to see your tears softly running down your pale cheeks, the way you lose your breath as he pulls your hair to almost make you swallow his cock.

he's violent, let's say, but he can actually care. really care.

he always adds "my" in front of pet names. my whore, my queen, my sweetheart, my love, my angel.

his kinks include cock worship, absolutely, breeding (we don't need to mention it), power imbalance, exhibition, humiliation (giving, of course), sadism (uhm...).

you never actually discovered how far his sadism can really go, and that scares you a little bit, hearing the servants' opinions or stories about it.

you know he's capable of anything, anything.

however, he makes sure, every single night, to massage you properly during the aftermath, kissing softly every inch of your inner tights while his finger tips play with your nipples.

&. LAURIE

laurie is a softie big cuddly boyyyy.

he waited so long for you to tell him you loved him before he made any sexual advances. he wanted it to be purely making love; not having sex.

he always will treat you first, you're his everything.

he would always clean you first, massage you first, check you out before even looking at himself.

not the most vocal, but definitely not silent. laurie prefers to let out soft moans and quiet praises rather than being vocal and over the top.

he would treat you more like a best friend in public, gently stealing you cheek kisses or holding your fingers under the table. he would eventually tease your inner thighs when -absolutely rarely- he would feel like doing it.

he's a sweet boy, the most intense he gets is probably the occasional slap on the ass when you look or sound too good.

laurie loves your lipsticks. he knows every single one you own and how every single one tastes. when they have a more visible colour and you leave kiss marks on his neck, he would surely refuse to remove them. also, he's into asking you to leave kisses on his shirts.

he's a romantic boy, come on.

during sex, he would always hold your hands. always, never letting go, holding onto you as if you were his only lifeline.

&. ELIO

elio is just like lee, absolutely vocal and completely down for you being on top.

he just lives for that shit, being submissive and guiding your hips as you take complete control.

sex with him would be difficult, because mafalda would always check the sheets and or his night underwear, and you know that elio needs to be careful. however, he's absolutely good and skilled at letting you enter his room late at night.

at the same time, during sex, he would worry often about noises and bed cracks.

in fact, he's totally whiney and whimpery, you have to kiss him to swallow his drawn out moans and don't let him lose control.

as written before, elio is obsessed with just going dumb, he wants you to control him, make decisions for him and use him whenever you want. he's definitely into being your pet, just being a complete boy toy for your use.

you don't always understand the difference whenever he wants you to take the lead or brutally use him, but again, it's clear that he wishes for both.

he loves receiving head, and thinks you're magic the way you work his length when he literally begs for it.

would cry often during sex just from the sheer overwhelming pleasure, always begging you to hold him through the tears.

he's absolutely insecure and would overthink the aftermath for entire weeks, shyly asking you if you enjoyed it, or if he had hurt you or if you still love him. his head goes completely dumb at your every touch, but he constantly needs you to confirm that that's what you want as well.

after the first night, he would suffer every instant he doesn't get to enjoy with you, so he would furtively touch himself or steal your swimming costume.

&. PAUL

deep down, paul is a lover boy.

he had been having visions about you for ages and he would just wait for you to get pregnant in his visions and wish for it to happen as soon as possible.

at the same time, paul isn't a very sexual person, but he enjoys pleasing you whenever you ask him.

during sex, he would always go slow and hold you the whole way through, being as gentle as he can be even when you ask him to move faster. he would eventually lose it as soon as you arch your back, moaning at the friction between your hips.

he often has fantasies about using the voice on you, but he would be way too nervous to tell you about it. in his head, using the voice over you is absolutely arousing.

you soon discovered paul had many kinks, for example calling you mommy (even lee would do that, of course.)

you absolutely adore when he moans, because you can always find a little hint of shame and insecurity, but as soon as you take the lead just to reassure him, his guttural sounds make his whole body throb on top of you.

he would be absolutely careful and use protections, always, except when his visions are too frequent and he would literally kill to get you pregnant, turn you into a mommy and have babies.

you surprisingly discovered that he is down for your cuts or wounds. he often offers to train with you, even if he knows you're so much more experienced than him, but he would just love to lick your fresh blood or your healing wound to feel his tongue fizz.

paul is obsessed when you pull your hair, begging you to make you cum with absolutely no shame.

&. WILLY

sex with willy can be a literal rollercoaster.

he can become extremely needy during sex, and with needy...i mean needy. almost in a very childish way, if we consider that he's impressively incompetent and inexperienced in that field.

once he's inside you, he is shy about it, asking if it's okay if he kisses you deeper or grabs your waist or simple gestures. he always needs to have your permission.

he slowly gains confidence the longer you two are together and the more you are imitate. he would pull you away and just whisper how much he wants you. sometimes, even dirty things, but you never understood if he had a special chocolate to let him gather enough confidence for that.

he can be extremely perv and dirty minded, but he'll never admit it.

he's obsessed with leaving hickeys on you.

he would occasionally start meowing and doing his :] face when you mess with his curls.

if you pull his air while you're on top, taking his cock the best way you can, there will be no return, seriously. he would fuck you all night, and i'm not joking.

willy's got stamina, he really does.

loves to be submissive, there's no need to say it.

just like elio, he would be deadly aroused when you use him like a pet, sometimes he would beg for you to blindfold him or tie his wrists.

in these cases, his wet tongue would do all the work.

loves to smell the sheets after you two had done it, he just loves that smell.

his moans are the sexiest thing ever, but he's more frequent to make small sounds and groans.

when he's on top, willy would use sweet nicknames, tongue twisters or rhymes to sweeten you even more.

if your body hurts he would massage it carefully and give you a special chocolate treat to regain energy.

right after sex, he would be scared to death that you could get pregnant. have mercy, he just doesn't know how it works.

willy is the fastest learner, though.

given that he doesn't know how to start, he willingly accepts all your advice, and knows how to follow them to the letter.

once you give even the smallest instruction, he would just be more and more needy.

[konigsblog]

Any cod men with Jacob's ladder pierced?

König, for sure.

It helps him keep track of how deep he is inside of you, how many inches you've swallowed with your tight, slick cunt. He rewards you with sloppy, tender kisses after each inch you manage to take, both of his large and calloused hands massaging your warm, plush thighs as encouragement. His stiff cock pulsates and twitches inside of your drooling heat at the sight of your eyes glistening and your bottom lip quivering with the splitting, agonising stretch and intense ache.

He has around seven metal balls along his girthy, meaty shaft, as well as a Prince Albert Piercing that prods against your gummy cervix with each deep, slow thrust, hitting places you've never felt before, sending shivers down your spine. He's infatuated with your technique and the hypnotising sensation of having them toyed with. He adores when you slowly roll and drag your warm, wet tongue along his cold, metal piercings, maintaining eye contact with him as you excite him. You'll have to restrain him using handcuffs to keep him from forcing his entire lengthy cock down your slick, tight throat.

I could also see Simon Riley having a Jacob's ladder. He uses it to pleasure you, to arouse his beloved. He's obsessed with the way your thighs shake and tremble with each thrust, the sensation of his cold metal piercings rubbing against your velvety, smooth walls. Your fingers grasp at the bedsheets desperately, eyes rolled back with drool running down your chin. You can feel Simon's warm, rough hands run up your waist, back down to your hips, giving them a squeeze before fucking his creamy, hot load into your aroused hole, his piercings slowly dragging against your soft insides. It's worth it to hear the addicted and needy squeals and mewls you let out, panting and heaving like a mutt in heat at the mesmerising pleasure.

[seonghw4ffles]

princess fluffy-cupcake-sparkles

i'll be the laziest superman, so follow me !

playing happy fools, poppin love ..

yeosang x fem!reader

au: a school project at a flower garden

genre: grumpy!yeosang x sunshine!reader, fluff, tsundere, a piece of dialogue, a jealous-but-dont-wanna-admit-it yeosang

wc: 1.0k

summary: if yeosang hated animals but only tolerated them for you

tw: yeosang jelly of wooyoung

note: inspired by that one scene in ouabh and dude i was like ooo yeosang HELP ong i js pulled this out of my notes app tbh there is no reason for anything TT i love nonchalant yeosang so much idk why....

yeosang stood far from the venue, his back to a large stone. a mysterious creature, which he soon figures is a cat, approaches him and starts to sniff his shoes. he struggles, unfamiliar with dealing with animals.

the cat was white coated, with large patches of orange and black laid all over itself. a calico cat, but yeosang does not know that. he is not familiar with whatever sort of cat breeds there are or its names, nor does he care.

he tried to kick it away, but it does not leave.

"interesting..." he mutters.

yeosang notices that you have already arrived from the payment stall, though he does not react.

you are at the botanical garden with yeosang, required to take pictures for a school travel project of visiting significant places around town.

when you find a cat meandering around his feet, you giggle. "it must like you!!"

"perhaps it does." he looks down at the cat and stares at it.

previously, you insisted to pay for the entry fee, but yeosang blackmailed you to not do so, to use his card instead.

he sighs and then speaks to it. "leave me alone, mutt."

as he says so, his eyes subtly widen with agitation at the fact it does not want to leave.

"you should name it. spill some ideas," you smile as you look down to the cat.

yeosang looks up at you in confusion and disbelief, as if it was a foolish act to name a random animal from the woods.

"what?"

"why should i? it's not my pet, it's just a stray." he replies, dismissing your suggestion.

but he keeps his gaze on the little animal, which doesn't seem to leave him alone.

"hmm." he starts to speak to it. "stay if you wish... but do not expect any attention from me."

you chuckle at his decision to talk to the cat, becoming more and more amused. it is visible that you already grew fond of the stray cat.

"you should name it....." you hum, lost in thought for ideas, "oh!! i know!! you should name it princess fluffy-cupcake-sparkles!!"

"that name is completely ridiculous," he says, his expression becoming a form of disgust when he looks back down at the cat. "how does a creature like this deserve such a name? if i had a pet, which i never will, the name would make sense."

you look up from the cat to yeosang, your expression dissipating to a blank, empty stare of disappointment. you almost choose to abandon this whole project despite its relevance to your grading, solely to leave yeosang to do it all alone.

"next time i choose a partner to do this project with, it'll be with someone who has a sense of humour. maybe someone like wooyoung."

yeosang's gaze ever so slowly travels from your toes to your eyes, his face turning to indifference. he ignores the cat and its intentions, looking directly at you.

a moment of silence ensues as he attempts to figure out what to say.

"yes, go ahead and partner with wooyoung. i would like to see the result of your foolish decision."

you get surprised by the sudden tone. the answer is also astonishing, as you expected a response of apathy. "oh come on, it was even more of a foolish decision to partner with you," you reply.

"you chose to do this with me simply because you did not have friends. it was foolish on your part to believe things would be of joy for you," he says, maintaining his usual tone.

you tried not to take offence.

he looks down at the cat and finally, with a heavy sigh, he decides to entertain the idea of naming it.

"fine, i will name it. but not with that stupid name."

you're taken back. you're surprised by how easily he is induced, knowing how dense of an individual he is. he seemed to be affected by the mere mention of your choice of a partner being wooyoung, to the major extent that he had to agree to do such a thing.

"if i didn't know you better, i would say you're jealous of him," you say.

he stays silent for a moment, glaring back up at you again. "jealousy is not something i am used to feeling," he pauses, his voice vastly unwelcoming."i did not agree to talk or joke about wooyoung."

a moment of silence ensues between the two of you. the cat continues sniffing around and starts to walk towards him again. it circles around his feet, rubbing itself to his leather boots.

"princess fluffy-cupcake-sprinkles already claims you as his owner," you smile.

"do not associate me with the cat." yeosang says, and you can sense that his patience with your jokes are starting to dwindle. the cat steps a short distance away from him after a few moments and simply stares at him from afar, growing bored of him.

you chuckle at the reaction of yeosang. "i dont know why you dislike such adorable creatures."

he shakes his head and groans.

"its a mere animal. why am i expected to pay any attention to it?" he sighs.

he attempts find relish in the cat for you're very sake, but he knows very well that the cat is annoying him more and more by its mere presence alone.

with one last glance, the cat finally leaves and moves on elsewhere.

he relaxes a bit, but his expression remains unchanged. he clears his throat. "now that that's taken care of, let's go."

"wait," you say. yeosang turns right after he starts walking to the venue, watching you carefully sneak over towards the cat again. he is in major disappointment to your stupid, futile decisions.

you manage to pick up the cat, and it does not run. "yeosang!!" you hold up the obedient feline and smile widely.

he instantly softens. 

"well, what do you intend with that thing?" he asks.

"take the pictures with it!!" you reply. you carry the cat over your shoulder, and you run over to yeosang. 

"do you believe the garden allows it?" he says with a genuine intent of reminding you that you are stepping into a neat garden of flowers.

"how could they refuse it? look!" you hold up the damn cat, smiling illuminantly. "princess fluffy-cupcake-sparkles!!"

he refuses to admit what you're smile does to him.

"princess.." he struggles, ashamed of the lengths he goes for you. "princess fluffy-cupcake-sparkles."

[jay-m3]

Situationship

*Warning: Minipulation, Toxic relationship, depression, stalking, power imbalance, abuse, dead dove, toxic, obsessive reader, delulu reader, I'll add tags that you guys think I should add.

Read at your own risk. Male reader! This is how I imagine Alastor gets a partner

Alastor

A bit of time with Rosie for some gossip did wonders for Alastor, especially since he's been gone awhile.

Can you imagine his curiosity of a sinner called (M/n) is quickly climbing up the social ladder? A new Overlord seems to be quite famous from what he has heard.

When he finally meets you in the Overlord meeting room, his eyes seems to stay on you.

The sinner who is dressed so... cheap. This is your first impression? He has to call you out on it of course.

The insults from him irrated you so much over the past few months that you decided to change your wardrobe. He wants style? Fine.

The next time you see each other, Alastor can't help but smile wide in victory. This he could get used to.

With that, the more he interacted with you, the more desire you felt for him. The familiar feelings of your human self is returning, that feeling of sweaty palms, heart thumping, and scenarios inside your head play wonderful interactions with him.

That glance he gave you? He was totally checking you out!

Oh! He's questioning about the extermination? You need to jump in and support your man!

Alastor has noticed the change immediately of your bored hollow self to this Vox like persona. No, worse than Vox.

Sure Vox has cameras around to keep an eye on him but you... you were basically crawling at his feet with a tail wagging behind you.

Like a mutt, eager to please even if he says something out of pocket towards you. It seems he can't get you off his back unless he kills you.

But that will be unproductive. You are an Overlord no matter if you were new to the scene. You must be powerful and he doesn't have history with you unlike Vox.

This is a chance for him he can't miss out on so he'll play along a little.

He'll give out compliments as rewards for you when you comply his orders like a treat to a puppy.

Slash at you when you step out of line, for example trying to hold his hand. You pout up at him, not getting up from the ground, wallowing in sorrow. You disappointed him.

Next time you're around him, you don't touch but stay close. Almost purring when he pats your head with a 'Good boy. You're a fast learner.'

That was it. That is what you wanted to hear. The snap inside your head connected that you're his as much as he's yours.

No matter how much you flinch when he initiate physical contact, your mind tricking you as excitement of affection from the man.

But sometimes, you return to that hollow person. The one that stares off to space. The one Alastor seems to get the most entertained from.

This switch is something he can't predict but its always fun to watch.

That glaze in your eyes as you talk to someone. Imitating aura oozing out as you seem to get more aggravated towards everyone around you.

The way you display your powers sends tingles down his spine, especially when he's the only one that can snap you out of that trance, looking up at him like some sort of god.

And you do. Which is the reason why you sold your soul to him.

But not so fast, you are an Overlord for a reason though. The contract was thoroughly read and rewritten which was unfortunate for Alastor.

It seems like this contract was more of a...relationship term. Alastor had a decision to make and if he didn't like it, nothing can stop him from leaving.

But.

'Alastor, the owner of the soul, can dictate expectations, boundaries, and responsibilities within the relationship. (M/n), the seller of said soul, must obey and follow the guidelines and maintaining it.'

What a waist of power if Alastor doesn't agree.

It's a good thing he does though.

Cause you'll be lost once again to that hollowness if he doesn't.

A blast of green and (f/c) crashes around them both. A thick silver chain around your neck connects to the other side of the chain which Alastor holds on to, the handle rusty heart shaped.

'Now let the fun begin'

[homelanderbutbig]

Your Heart Beats For Him (G/T Homelander x Reader)

2332 words. Hurt/comfort, and a bit of angst. Homelander is 8 feet tall. Reader is non-descriptive. Established relationship.

Homelander doesn't know how to handle you getting hurt. Inspired by an ask from @chocolate-floof.

It all happened so fast. One moment Homelander was irritatedly pacing endless circles in the Seven's meeting room, waiting for you return his calls. You were supposed to be on your way to Vought Tower, but you were late. He expected you would tell him where you were. You always call him back when he phones, and yet you had all but disappeared from his radar. Not a word or trace of you, every minute with no response fueled his growing anger. His ego began to rip chunks out of its own flesh, torn apart by his unrestrained suspicions. You were leaving him, you had to be. You probably packed up all your belongings are were on your way to another state by now. Why else would you refuse to speak to him? You know how he is, you must be doing this on purpose. You were sending him a message. You must be upset at him, you must hate him.

But in the next moment, his assumptions were swiftly shattered when Ashley ran into the meeting room to inform him that you had been in a car accident.

What happened next is all a blur in his mind; he doesn't remember leaving the Tower. He doesn't even recall himself rocketing into the air to fly to the hospital. But he did, as currently everyone in the building scurries at the sight of this eight foot tall superhero barely managing to fit himself in the corridors. He is moving like a frantic bloodhound, desperately attempting to find you. However, once he's finally located you, he's refused entry into the operating room by a single nurse.

Homelander attempts to maintain an outer façade of nonchalance, despite having just plowed through the hospital doors minutes ago. He can see you in there with his X-ray vision, surrounded by doctors as they cut you open. The nurse's words barely register in his ears as she explains your condition, that the impact of the crash created a tear in your rotator cuff and you are being surgically treated by the best doctors in the city. He can sense her fear as he towers menacingly over her, having to bend over to avoid breaking through the ceiling. She is so miniscule to him, so pathetic. Like an ant beneath his feet. He wants to intimidate her further, force her to apologize for stopping him, maybe even laser her worthless mudperson head clean off. Regardless of his homicidal urges, he swallows his pride, acquiesces to her request and silently backs away.

Sitting down on the floor, he rests his arms on his bent-up knees and mindlessly fiddles with his fingers. He hasn't felt this level of helplessness his whole life. He is the Homelander, the strongest man in the world. There isn't anything anybody can do to stop him from getting what he wants. He has no vulnerabilities to break through his skin, no limitations to what his powers can achieve. Nothing can hurt him.

Except, now he has one weakness… it's you.

You are the only person whom he truly cares about, the only one who's ever loved him for his true self. Yet he was not there to save you, so your life is now entrusted to complete strangers. Meanwhile, he is forced to stand down like a useless mutt waiting for its master to release it. And even worse, he allows it. He can't save you from your injuries, logically he knows that. This isn't a situation that can be solved with his powers, as mighty as they may be. He has to put his faith into the hands of doctors… human doctors.

His anxiety begins to suffocate him as the world around him begins closing in. The sounds of scalpels slicing through body tissue, the sterile smell of the hospital, and the sight of doctors in white lab coats… it all invokes painful memories of his childhood in the lab. He was running on pure adrenaline when he barged into the hospital, so this traumatic association hadn't quite hit him yet. But it is now.

His eyes shut tight as he fights back tears, biting on his gloved index finger as he does his damndest to cast his nightmares aside. Flashbacks hit him in unrelenting waves, of the scared little boy in the 'Bad Room' crying out for someone to save him. Nobody ever did, nor did they give him any sort of care. That little boy was all alone, just like Homelander is currently.

He wishes you were here next to him right now, you'd know what to do. You always know just what to do to calm him down, to bring him back when he dissociates. Yet thankfully, a little voice in his head reminds him that you are here. Using his super hearing he easily pinpoints your heartbeat, still strong despite your condition.

You've soothed him so often by putting his head to your chest, letting him listen to your steady pulse while you guide him through some deep breaths. You've always told him that no matter where you are, if he hears your heart beat, then your heart beats for him.

Gradually, he feels his agitation drain as he fixates on the sounds of you, the sole thing on earth keeping him grounded. The agonizing experiences of his youth dematerialize from his psyche, replaced by the cherished memories he's gained since you've come into his life. Everything about you overtakes his senses, from the way you laugh to the way your skin feels when you caress his face.

As he relaxes, the cacophony of the hospital fades away. His mind is enveloped by his pleasant recollections of you, completely blocking out his otherwise highly-tuned senses. In fact, he doesn't even hear the nurse walking towards him, with an update on the status of your surgery.

~~~

Everything is still very hazy when you start to wake up. The last thing you can recall is driving on your way to Vought Tower, and then the rest is all just vague colours and sounds.

Your eyes slowly adjust to your surroundings. You realize that you're in Homelander's penthouse, snuggled comfortably in the silk sheets of his massive bed. You notice your right arm is in a shoulder sling, but not a normal one; there's a pillow attached to your waist, holding your arm out and away from your body. You start to piece together that something serious must have occurred.

Suddenly, you hear the all-too-familiar sounds of loud footsteps hurriedly approaching, followed by the immense stature of a supe in blue looming above. It takes a moment for your blurry vision to refocus, but you soon see your oversized boyfriend's face staring down at you. His expression is contorted with conflicting emotions, swaying from relief to what you assume is a mix of anger and anxiety.

"Hey you," you utter, your voice a bit hoarse. You still feel a little loopy from the painkillers you've been put on, but you're coming to pretty fast considering.

"Hey you? …Really? T-that's all you have to say?" he scoffs, eyes twitching from distress. He's in disbelief at how casual you sound about this whole situation.

"Sorry… still a little out of it," you smile groggily. "What… happened?"

"You were in a car accident," he retorts sharply, keeping his arms crossed behind his back as if he's scolding a teammate. "You required surgery."

"Oh," you say, the only word that comes to mind as you process everything. Which, of course, is not the answer Homelander was hoping for.

"Oh? That's it?! I-I can't believe how you aren't taking this seriously!" he exclaims in a huff, finally throwing his hands up into the air out of pure frustration. "You could have died! I should be the one taking you everywhere, you can't go out by yourself. There are too many… m-many villains out there who could hurt you!"

"But I'm not dead sweetie," you remark. "It was an accident, nobody did this on purpose. These things happen."

"No! Y-you don't understand! I-I need to keep you safe!!" he lashes out, pointing aggressively at you as he becomes overwhelmed. The heat is building in his eyes; he's never yelled at you out of anger before, never. But right now his thoughts are spiralling out of control from the stress of these recent events. In his mind he's already decided how this will be handled. You are weak, you are fragile, and he must protect you. From now on, you will not go anywhere without him by your side. He needs you to be subservient to his wishes. He needs to make you concede, to bend to his will, whether you want to or not. He will never come this close to losing you again.

And yet, as always, you must be the force of reason.

"John," you state bluntly, silencing him on the spot. One word has left him motionless, staring down at his shoes as the fire within him smolders away leaving nothing but a husk. The crimson red of his eyes is replaced by glistening tears dripping down his cheeks, reflecting back the melancholy of his blue irises. His arms are back down at his sides, clenched into fists so tight that he might rip through the leather of his gloves.

Hearing you say his birth name cuts through him like a knife, leaving him feeling vulnerable, exposed… human. You know he doesn't like being called 'John', but in moments like this you need to talk directly to his inner child, to the part of himself that he's scared to let out.

"John, it's okay baby. Come here," you coax him, gently patting on the side of your bed with your good arm. Although he's hesitant to give in, you know he's pretty much incapable of disobeying your orders, especially when there's the promise of affection on the line. Carefully, he kneels down beside the bed, keeping both of his hands on his thighs. He's afraid to touch you, now that he has to come to terms with your mortality.

"You can rest your head on my chest," you comment, lifting your left arm up to make room for him. "Don't worry, I won't break", you chuckle, seeing him tense at the mere suggestion.

As steady as he can, Homelander leans closer to rest his big head across your chest. At first he tries not to go down with his full weight, but he soon feels your dainty fingers running through his undercut. With a deep sigh, he feels himself slowly sinking into your body, made more placid by the sounds of your heart in his ears.

"There we go, all good," you console him calmly. "Now, can you tell me why you're upset?"

You already know the answer, you can read him like a book. But you want him to articulate it, and relieve him of the worries that plague his sensitive mind.

"Y-you…" he mumbles, struggling at first to find the right words. This isn't a conversation he'd think he'd have in a million years. "Y-you're human."

"And you're scared that I can get injured so easily?" you ask. Trembling, he nods, admitting to himself how weak you are compared to him. You are just a human, and he is a supe. The strongest one on earth at that. How could he ever think your relationship would work?

"Oh baby boy," you hum, stroking the side of his cheek, wet from his tears. "People get hurt all the time, that's just a fact of life. But that doesn't mean we can't live in fear, we live each day like it could be our last."

"S-s-sorry… I-I… I'm s-sorry…" he whispers, his voice sounding so small compared to moments ago when he was yelling at you.

"Why, because you weren't there to rescue me?" you question him. You sense him attempting to bury his face further into your chest out of shame. He feels that he failed you, not only as a superhero but as a boyfriend. "Sweetpea, you don't have to feel guilty. It wasn't your fault. It happened, but I'm fine now."

He angles his head up at you, his brows furrowed and red puffy eyes glaring at your last remark. You are far from fine, your shoulder is wounded. How can you even say that?

"Hey," you breathe, petting his hair. "It's going to be alright. I got hurt, but now it's over. I'm going to get better, and I love you very much, okay?"

Exhaling through his nose he nods, still not entirely convinced, but he can at least drop it for now. You're right, you are presently safe. All he wants right now is to be in your company. Softly purring at your genuine love, he lets himself melt into your tender scratches along his scalp. You whisper sweet affirmations into his ear, always babying him even through your injury.

After some time, he realizes that you've fallen back asleep. Your accident and surgery must have taken its toll on your body, so fragile and yet so perfect. You deserve the rest.

Homelander gets up from his kneeling position and meticulously lifts you up, moving your body to the other side of the bed so he can lie down beside you. Resting his head on your chest again, he removes his gloves to wrap his arms around your legs as delicately as he can muster. His long fingers caress your skin, the feeling of your soft features comforting him as he is lulled into slumber by your heart. He wonders how he will ever be able to separate himself from this beautiful sound once you wake up.

You may be human, but you are flawless, impeccable. You are a god. You are unspoiled by the cruelty of the rest of society, and you must stay that way. He will never let anything harm you ever again. Otherwise… the world will burn.