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[gardenofchrome]

ROTB Mirage Oneshot

On vaca rn, enjoy this pre written Mirage one shot from my fic on Wattpad

𝕾𝖔𝖓𝖌 𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗: 'Hey Mickey!' by Baby Tate

*𝘙𝘖𝘛𝘉 𝘔𝘪𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 *𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘯𝘦𝘶𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘭 𝘊𝘺𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘪𝘢𝘯* 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳*

"Mirage, Y/N, you two are not allowed outside of this area for the time being," Optimus tells the bots in front of him.

"What?!" The two Cybertronians in question groan simultaneously.

"Your reckless actions almost caused the humans to discover us, and for the Decepticons to find out our location. So, you two are confined here until further notice."

"Oh c'mon sir, it was just a little race, there’s no harm in that," Mirage complains.

Optimus casts him a disapproving look. 

"Optimus sir, why should I be punished for his s***ty actions, I was just following him to make sure he didn't get in serious trouble," you say. "I don't think I should be stuck here with him for a long period of time."

"Exact- hey!" Mirage turns to you, and glares. 

"This is not up for debate." Optimus continues before he walks away. 

You climb up in the rafters while Mirage flops down on the ground. "Thanks a lot," you mumble. 

"Yo, you decided to follow me," he responds, while he looks up at you. "I ain't responsible for your stupid actions."

You scoff and try to lay down on the rafters before you decide not to as the thin metal groaned under the weight. 

You climb down and went next to Mirage, laying down beside him. "Sorry I guess," he mumbles quietly. 

"Nah, it's not your fault," you say. "Not completely anyways."

Silence falls upon the two of you. "Ok, I'm turning on the radio," Mirage says. "This is getting reallllly uncomfortable."

He starts playing popular tracks on the radio, and the sound fills the room. You both hum the tune of the songs, and you felt your optics growing heavy,  feeling more relaxed than you ever had during the war. 

You decide to fall into recharge, drifting off to the darkness with the music playing in the background. 

-

When you wake, you find that your head was resting comfortably in the nook of Mirage's shoulder, his arm laying across your abdomen. You turn your head slowly, seeing that he was in recharge too. You stay still, not wanting to wake him, the music still playing softly in the background. 

When he did wake, Mirage looks startled slightly. "Oh, uh, sorry."

You smile softly. "You're good, Mirage."

You two continue to lay there, Mirage turning up the volume on his radio. You two sing along to the lyrics of the song, mostly interrupted by you laughing hysterically at his singing skills. "I should join a band or something," Mirage says to you. 

You giggle. "Yeah, sure."

You both laugh and continue singing until night falls, and Mirage and you fall into recharge once more. 

-

Optimus walks into the area once more and sees the two of you laying side by side, your head on his chassis and his head on top of yours. He quirks an optic ridge but leaves, deciding not to disturb you two. 

-

When you two wake again, you sit up, brushing your frame off. "D***, I really need a repaint."

Mirage snorts. "No kidding."

You punch him in the shoulder. "You know, I really hate you sometimes."

"Right back at ya, Y/N/N"

-

Will be rewritten eventually

[sillaysii]

Some more kitties HULLO !!

Someone mentioned the lack of Mirage kitty before so here she is !! With the side of MV2 :3

+ bug

[snipersfucker]

request from @gh0stfac3-w1f3y: I can't find any fics where Noah and the reader first meet Mirage in the garage and then they met the others

i changed the plot so much, it's so far from canon lmao but we roll. it's long btw sorry for making you wait *cries*

"Any last words?"

Noah looked up at you with widened eyes after hearing the question that'd left your mouth.

He was so close to shitting himself and you were not helping.

"What?" He frowned with his eyes now focused on your face, the word a whispered yell.

You rolled your eyes, not actually having expected him to understand your little joke, considering the fact that you two had slightly different senses of humour. But you had the right to roll your eyes at him nevertheless.

"Before you get shot in the head for stealing," you explained in the same tone, loudly enough for him to hear but also not too loudly so that you wouldn't catch anyone else's attention.

And Noah would've normally kind of snorted at your words. But not now. Not when his special thingy used for opening stranger's car doors without making much noise was inside a Porsche that did not belong to either of you.

He just let out a shaky breath through his nose, trying to calm down his growing nerves. His attention went back to the car, his trembling hands trying to open it without triggering the alarm.

"We're so dead," you muttered under your breath, shaking your head and looking around in search for any unwelcome guests. Noah didn't even hear you, too focused on his task as well as not fucking everything up.

And he nearly let out a loud noise when the safety lock clicked. He was too nervous to properly smile at you but you couldn't stop the corners of your own lips from curling up. You made a proud face and held a thumbs-up to him.

"Get in," he just said, grabbing the handle to open the door, and you did the same thing.

You raised your eyebrow when the safety lock locked itself again.

"She doesn't want us to steal her," you whispered to him, referring to the silver car, your hand pulling on the handle a few more times, hoping it would eventually work.

Humour helped you not to lose your mind due to stress, which was happening to Noah at the moment, almost silent curses leaving his mouth, the desperation in his movements now much more obvious as he kept attempting to unlock the safety lock with the thingy again.

It clicked.

You pulled the handle again. And the safety lock locked itself. Again.

"The fuck?" Noah whispered to himself, the frown on his face deepening even more. This time he decided to trick the system and unlock the safety lock and then open the door as fast as possible.

It worked.

"I knew w—" you began the sentence, feeling quite victorious, even though you did absolutely nothing to help Noah, but was interrupted by the male voice coming from behind you. Your eyes snapped to Noah's face which was filled with just the same amount of horror. They immediately widened in shock and a sudden wave of stress as well as panic washed over you, making your heart skip a few beats.

"Hey! Security!" The man yelled, his heavy steps increasing in volume, getting closer and closer to the two of you. "What are you doing?!"

If the image of you in an orange suit hadn't appeared in your mind for that split second, you would've frozen in your spot, unable to enter the car, let alone run away from the security guard. But you managed to do the former, your hand opening the door with one swift motion, your legs guiding you inside.

"Noah!" A croaked yell fell from between your lips as your eyes shot to your friend standing by his side of the Porsche. Your voice hit him like a bucket of cold water.

He quickly got inside, taking another thingy out of his pocket to use it to start the engine. Random courses both in Spanish and English were coming to your ears as Noah tried to work his magic and get you two out of that damned parking lot.

But before he could even flex his car-stealing abilities, the security guard was already knocking on your window with a lot of force, nearly breaking the glass. That almost made you and Noah throw up from the stress, and the fact that he was still struggling with all the cables—

The engine suddenly started.

The radio blasted music on its own, the tunes so loud they either freaked the security guy out to the point he stopped punching the window, or they completely silenced his furious knocks and pulls on the handle. You weren't sure, not even daring to look in the man's direction, focused only on Noah, as if you were trying to get him to drive without actually yelling it at him.

You tried to turn the radio off but it just kept screaming the lyrics to Act a Fool right in your face. And you could swear you were able to hear a faint sound of a male voice speaking through the radio, saying something you didn't understand because of the loudly playing song.

Why the fuck wasn't he driving?

Your head turned to the left as your eyes met the side profile of your friend hitting the gas pedal with desperation you've never seen on him before.

Why the fuck wasn't it working?

And then, all of a sudden, the car moved. You and Noah were pushed into your seats as the Porsche got out of its parking spot in a dangerous speed.

But there were no hands on the wheel. The pure horror and panic in your widened eyes matched the look on Noah's face as his dark irises met your own, as if he was looking for answers in them to the questions he hadn't asked.

The music was overwhelming, the speed making you grip anything to steady yourself, making you want to scream every single time the front of the car nearly touched an object in front of it.

Was it the right moment to tell Noah you kissed the boy he fancied in the third grade? It definitely sounded like something he should hear before you both die tragically in a car crash.

Noah was doing everything he could to stop the car, from hitting the brakes to slapping the dashboard with his right palm, the other hand staying on the steering wheel in case the car decided to let him drive.

But when the tires of the Porsche made contact with the highway, he wrapped all his ten fingers around the round object, gripping it with all the strength he could find within himself.

It was obvious. Obvious but apparently you and Noah were so stupid neither of you even thought of it. An expensive Porsche sitting in a parking lot for a long time, appearing abandoned but still in a perfect condition, practically asking for a potential thief to steal it. It had to be someone's brilliant idea, probably an idea of a cop, to put a damned self-driving mechanism inside of the car, which now was most likely taking you and Noah to a police station.

You didn't even notice when the music got a bit quieter, enough for you to hear your own, terrified thoughts, but you did notice the sound of sirens getting louder and louder with every passing second.

That damned Porsche sped up even more, making you and Noah scream like little boys, shifting your gazes between the road in front of you and the sight behind you. Police cars catching up to you, the sound of their sirens, and the absolute absurd of the situation made you nearly lose your sanity.

The loudest scream left both your mouths when the Porsche sped up even more, drove onto something and got in the air for a few seconds. But these few seconds were enough for you to have a tiny heart attack.

Why did the sirens stop?

You were so focused on not dying that the police cars hitting other vehicles, brick walls, driving out of the highway and out of the bridge were omitted by your overwhelmed brain.

Your eyes closed, the breaths leaving your mouth quick and heavy, after multiple failed attempts to steady them, you decided to give up and focus on something else, something that would hopefully ground you. Your eyelids separated, the gaze of your eyes shifted to Noah which seemed to be losing it even more than you.

The road got clear, and soon the car turned to the right to drive into an alley, and then into an open garage.

"No, no, no, no, no, no..." you kept repeating, shaking your head, disagreeing with what was happening out of your control, but at the same time being fully aware that your disapproval couldn't do anything to change your situation.

One drift and you found yourself rolling on the dirty ground, now out of the car. You let a couple of grunts out, your eyes squeezed shut as you felt pain in your knees, elbows and palms.

The unfamiliar sound of metal hitting metal mixed with something you couldn't quite name made you turn your head in the direction of the noise. Before you could register Noah kneeling down next to you and the touch of his warm hands on your back and arm, your brain got shocked by the sight of...

"Woohoo!"

A male voice rang in your sensitive ears, its tone slightly deformed to match his robotic appearance. It... was standing right in front of your very eyes, making energetic movements, then walking in your direction.

You managed to get on your weak legs. Barely.

"T'was... Damn! I haven't done that in ages!" He exclaimed, jumping on his metal legs around the garage, punching the air as if he was preparing himself for a sparring match. "Really gets the fuel pumping, doesn't it?!" he directed the rhetorical question to you and Noah, watching you both with a very content expression on his face. After a couple of seconds of not getting any responses, he added himself, "Damn right it does!"

Your friend was as stunned and speechless as you but you managed to somehow grab a metal pipe lying on the dirty floor, and hold it as if you were about to hit the... whatever or whoever it was... if he tried anything.

"Chill, man..." The machine held his hands up in a defensive gesture, pretending to get intimidated by the threatening posture of a much smaller human. "Jus' not in that pretty face, yeah?" He covered the said body part with one hand, acting as if you could even reach that high.

You gripped the pipe harder, ready to swing at the metal man, but then, when he let out a chuckle and shook his head in amusement, you lost all your confidence that you had any, even the tiniest bit of control over the situation.

None of you expected to see a hand of his transforming into a huge weapon, the blue muzzle probably reflecting in your widened eyes. Noah wanted to do something but you stopped him with one quick glance.

"How 'bout now, baby?" The machine practically mocked you in your face, but you were too focused on the idea of possibly dying right there and then to even notice the playful hint in the tone of his robotic voice. "Still gon' hit me?"

You didn't even know what to say to that, knowing that the wrong response would probably put you in the grave, but you still didn't want to give him the satisfaction of being the one in absolute control of the situation.

You finally managed to blurt out, your voice coming out a lot weaker than you intended it to, "Maybe..."

You swallowed thickly, accepting the fact these were most likely your last moments on Earth, but then, the robot made an impressed face, tilted his head slightly to the right, and said with a smirk, "Shi', you got some balls, dude." And lowered his arm, the weapon transforming back into a hand.

The relief that washed over you was indescribable. But you still had to be in the state of constant focus, in case he decided to put that blue thing in front of your face again.

He nodded, eyeing you from head to toes, and then admitted, "I like that... I like that a lot."

"What..." you whispered to yourself, confused by his words, the sudden change in behaviour making a frown appear on your face.

"I was expecting a different reaction, though," he started talking again, the playfully casual tone back, as if he was slightly disappointed but didn't want to show it, "You know, I saved your asses and all," he tried not to make it sound like a big deal, but still wanted to jokingly point out the fact that you were a pair of slightly ungrateful little humans. "...But I get it. I get it. I'd be scared of me, too..." He raised his hands in a defensive gesture again, speaking to you as if he actually understood, even though he found the whole situation, and your approach as well, quite amusing. "I don't expect every girl to get weak in the knees 'cause of me or anythin'."

A beat of silence passed, and the robot just couldn't stop himself from speaking up again, "Where are my manners? The name's Mirage." He extended his arm towards you both, his fist in your faces, as if he was waiting for you to bump it with your own. His next words in an encouraging tone only confirmed it, "Come on... Give it a lil', give a lil', give it a lil' tap."

Maybe complying to his requests was the only way of getting out of this situation alive... But at the same time the robot didn't give the impression of being cruel enough to just kill you both in cold blood...

You made eye contact with Noah for a moment, just to notice him shrugging, and then, slowly extending his own fist towards the machine's one, as if testing the waters.

When their knuckles touched, Mirage exclaimed with a satisfied look on his face, "Now that's what I'm talkin' about!" And then, he looked at you with a slightly raised eyebrow, motioning to your stiff body with his finger nonchalantly, directing the question to Noah, "She always this fun?"

Oh, I'm sorry for not wanting to fist-bump a robot three times my size who almost shot my head off with his weird fucking arm.

"What the hell are you? Some shit like E.T. or whatever?" Noah ignored his most likely rhetorical question, even though the machine seemed to want answers to every single thing he'd say.

"Naah, that'd be at least weird..." he said sarcastically, then made a finger-gun at us and added with a smile, "I'm a robot from space."

Great.

"A robot... from space..." you trailed off with a weak voice, Mirage's attention back to you.

"One and only." He bowed ever so slightly, but then corrected himself, "Well, technically there are others. You're actually real lucky you have met me first, though. But chill, maybe they'll like you. Proly not but maybe." He shrugged, not actually caring about what his team would think of his new human friends.

And as soon as Mirage finished talking, the sounds of loud engines were bouncing against the walls of the garage, and then hitting yours and Noah's ears, making you both quickly turn around to see a couple of cars driving in your direction.

"Oh, yeah, forgot to mention they were gonna pay us a visit," the robot who was once a silver Porsche said from behind your backs, but the tone of his voice was so casual he didn't really sound like he felt bad for not notifying you.

Soon, the cars transformed into... robots. Of course.

"Prime! Long time no see! Missed you!" Mirage walked past you, making loud noises when his metal feet made contact with the floor beneath them. He opened his arms, as if he was trying to encourage the huge machine to give him a hug.

"Mirage," he spoke in a stern, warning tone, immediately making the smaller robot let out a chuckle, but also obediently lower his arms so now the metal hands were on his hips.

"Good ol' Prime, am I right, Bee?" He directed the question to the yellow machine which was much closer to being his own size.

"What are those humans doing here?" The gravely voice of the tallest robot sent shivers down your spine but Mirage seemed not to be so affected by it. In fact, he looked like he gave absolutely no fucks about it.

Mirage turned his head in your direction, making a nonchalant motion with his hand. "Them? Oh, yeah, they're my friends, sir. Lil' Lady and The Guy," he introduced you two, and you wouldn't be one bit surprised if Prime shot him right then and there with the same thingy Mirage wanted to use on you.

And you nearly fainted on your spot when you felt the ground shake with every single step the tall robot made while walking in your direction. Your knees got weak but you were lucky Prime helped you and swiped you right off your feet, grabbing you like a rag doll and holding you closer to his metal face.

He did the same thing with Noah who, in your opinion, was handling it much better than you.

"Who are you?" Prime's cold voice made you internally die, your mind already making scenarios about him literally squeezing you to death with his metal hand.

"Nobody," you quickly answered, your voice much more high-pitched than ever, shaking your head in panic, "I don't even know who that man is," you added, referring to Mirage standing behind you.

"Hey! I thought we were friends!" the walking Porsche got immediately offended by your words.

Prime narrowed his eyes even more, observing you with distrust, as if he started despising you as soon as he saw you for the first time.

"We shall not waste our time on those humans," he spoke again, squeezing you and Noah tighter and tighter with every passing second.

You let out a shriek. And that's when Mirage realised he had to step in.

"Woah, woah, woah." He immediately found himself next to the big robot, holding his hands up, telling him silently to stop literally taking yours and Noah's breaths away. "Prime, no need for that. Look, I took 'em here, my bad, should've hidden from the cops somewhere else, yeah, I get that. Next time I will, promise."

And Mirage didn't even care that he just admitted to catching the attention of humans, especially the armed ones, which the leader of the Autobots told him to avoid at all cost.

Prime shifted his gaze from you to the apologetically smiling robot.

"C'mon. Red might be your colour but do you really want their blood on you?" he asked in hope it would actually discourage him, make him change his mind.

And without a word, Prime let go of both you and Noah. You didn't manage to hold onto anything, even the robot's hand just not to fall onto the hard floor of the garage.

But before you could make any sounds or properly experience the pull of gravity, you felt another metal hand on you, this time the grip much more gentle, far from suffocating.

You didn't even notice the moment you closed your eyes shut just so you wouldn't have to witness your own body hitting the ground with a good amount of impact. You opened them just to see a pair of blue, shinning ones right in front of you.

"We friends now?" He tilted his head slightly, observing you with a confident smirk, knowing that you had no other choice but to agree with him.

Because he saved you from breaking your skull on the cement a couple of feet below your body.

"Buddies for life," you responded with a shaky voice and many eager nods, barely catching your breath, the panic still evident in your widened eyes.

Today not only did you not die, but you also gained yourself a new friend who would do anything to protect you.

the end sucks as always but do not worry. there will be worse.

[portpebble]

wait okay idea

[dangerousgoateetragedy]

who was gonna tell me megatrons original atl-form was a fucking pistol💀💀 bro is literally 9 ft tall HOW!?!????

also, when optimus gets his new alt form in the show, tell me why when he transforms a cargo box fhat trucks usually carry is suddenly drawn into frame??? like where is it coming from??? is this just 80s tv show logic???😭😭😭 bc i can tell you rjght now it wasnt there in the first frame.

[modpoppy]

that meme

[achillean-knight]

WAIT LEMME UPLOAD THESE ASWELL LMAO I am so sorry if I already uploaded ANY of these

But... behold! 6+ year old characters even though these are their redesigns NSBSBSBSV

Also the last bean I draw alot so BSBSVSV alot of art let's go

[glassymoonstone]

Hobbit homes r so everything 2 me

[cowcowwow]

It's hard being the sole Mew stan but as a Cowcowwow I stay strong /silly

(Mew belongs to @ask-mirage-mews !!)

[your-local-hyperfixater]

Reasons why people would get the ick from ac mirage characters according to twitter and tiktok ick lists:

[orange-artblog]

after ages, I drew my sona again

[mosswolf]

echo reverie is autistic they told me themself btw

[psychojetcocktail]

thinking abt transfem vulpes again im so sorry.... like im thinking post legion he'd occasionally steal some makeup or clothes from my queer courier and at some point six is just like "if your gonna look like faggot, at least do it with your own shit" might be ooc but im trying so hard man

Its a bit ooc but I can see that. In my own au thingy he eventually realises hes trans and tries getting away from it as best as he can, so i feel he’d do this during his egg that hates herself phase

[probablyasocialecologist]

Despite Sparta’s reputation for superior fighting, Spartan armies were as likely to lose battles as to win them, especially against peer opponents such as other Greek city-states. Sparta defeated Athens in the Peloponnesian War—but only by accepting Persian money to do it, reopening the door to Persian influence in the Aegean, which Greek victories at Plataea and Salamis nearly a century early had closed. Famous Spartan victories at Plataea and Mantinea were matched by consequential defeats at Pylos, Arginusae, and ultimately Leuctra. That last defeat at Leuctra, delivered by Thebes a mere 33 years after Sparta’s triumph over Athens, broke the back of Spartan power permanently, reducing Sparta to the status of a second-class power from which it never recovered. Sparta was one of the largest Greek city-states in the classical period, yet it struggled to achieve meaningful political objectives; the result of Spartan arms abroad was mostly failure. Sparta was particularly poor at logistics; while Athens could maintain armies across the Eastern Mediterranean, Sparta repeatedly struggled to keep an army in the field even within Greece. Indeed, Sparta spent the entirety of the initial phase of the Peloponnesian War, the Archidamian War (431-421 B.C.), failing to solve the basic logistical problem of operating long term in Attica, less than 150 miles overland from Sparta and just a few days on foot from the nearest friendly major port and market, Corinth. The Spartans were at best tactically and strategically uncreative. Tactically, Sparta employed the phalanx, a close-order shield and spear formation. But while elements of the hoplite phalanx are often presented in popular culture as uniquely Spartan, the formation and its equipment were common among the Greeks from at least the early fifth century, if not earlier. And beyond the phalanx, the Spartans were not innovators, slow to experiment with new tactics, combined arms, and naval operations. Instead, Spartan leaders consistently tried to solve their military problems with pitched hoplite battles. Spartan efforts to compel friendship by hoplite battle were particularly unsuccessful, as with the failed Spartan efforts to compel Corinth to rejoin the Spartan-led Peloponnesian League by force during the Corinthian War. Sparta’s military mediocrity seems inexplicable given the city-state’s popular reputation as a highly militarized society, but modern scholarship has shown that this, too, is mostly a mirage. The agoge, Sparta’s rearing system for citizen boys, frequently represented in popular culture as akin to an intense military bootcamp, in fact included no arms training or military drills and was primarily designed to instill obedience and conformity rather than skill at arms or tactics. In order to instill that obedience, the older boys were encouraged to police the younger boys with violence, with the result that even in adulthood Spartan citizens were liable to settle disputes with their fists, a tendency that predictably made them poor diplomats. But while Sparta’s military performance was merely mediocre, no better or worse than its Greek neighbors, Spartan politics makes it an exceptionally bad example for citizens or soldiers in a modern free society. Modern scholars continue to debate the degree to which ancient Sparta exercised a unique tyranny of the state over the lives of individual Spartan citizens. However, the Spartan citizenry represented only a tiny minority of people in Sparta, likely never more than 15 percent, including women of citizen status (who could not vote or hold office). Instead, the vast majority of people in Sparta, between 65 and 85 percent, were enslaved helots. (The remainder of the population was confined to Sparta’s bewildering array of noncitizen underclasses.) The figure is staggering, far higher than any other ancient Mediterranean state or, for instance, the antebellum American South, rightly termed a slave society with a third of its people enslaved.

[dollfacefantasy]

SYMPATHY FOR THE DEVIL ♡

pairing: homelander x fem!reader

summary: homelander has taken an interest in you, vought's new intern. no matter how you look at it, as a good or bad thing, it ends the same way: him getting what he wants.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, dubcon, p in v, oral (m receiving), body worship, sir kink, obsessive behavior, manipulation/coercion, age gap (reader in early 20s)

wc: 7.7k (oops lol)

a/n: hehe. never thought i would write for this man but it was pretty fun :) comm for my sweet beloved @gor3-hound love you so very much mwah mwah <33

At the junction of the V-shaped table, Homelander sat. With his back to the skyline and his gloved hands folded in front of him, he held the posture of a statue. Ashley had been rambling on and on and fucking on for the past five minutes about shit he couldn't care less about. Her nasally voice bounced off the tile floors and painted ceiling, ricocheting around him like a rogue bullet. Only his impregnable skin didn't protect him from the discomfort of this situation.

It was moments like these that really made him regret killing Stillwell.

That woman knew how to handle things. As manipulative as she could be, at least she wasn't absolutely insufferable. How could Stan let Ashley replace her? She was a poor excuse of just about everything. Absolutely spineless, unintelligent, reactionary, and opportunistic. He really couldn't picture any person on this Earth genuinely liking her.

However in the midst of his mental complaints, he realized that the annoying sound of her speaking was directed at him. All the other stares in the room were zeroed in on him too. A-Train observed in cautious silence. Noir's goggles reflected Homelander's own image right back at him. Maeve judged with a sideways glance. And Starlight prepared for the worst.

He tore his own bright blue eyes from the door opposite the table and refocused them on Ashley. They scanned over her thinning ginger locks down to her gaudy outfit - a piss poor attempt at imitating power.

"What?" he asked, his voice cutting through the air with a force similar to one of Maeve's swords.

Ashley blinked in return. Fear swirled in her wide eyes. She tried to maintain that empowered appearance she so desperately wished was real, but he could see the innate urge to cower bubbling within her.

"Was that lineup for the funeral ok with you, Homelander? A-Train and Noir open, Starlight sings, and then you close?" she repeated.

Now it was his turn to blink. Like he could actually give a shit about the order of segments for Translucent's funeral. He swallowed hard. While she projected a mirage of power, he had to do the same with level-headedness.

"That's fine, Ashley. Have those two go first, and Starlight can follow up with Amazing Grace or whatever shitty hymns they teach in that hick town she's from, and then I can finish us out," he responded.

He could see how her knuckles were going white around the edge of her clipboard. She gripped it for comfort, as if that could save her from his potential wrath. It only irritated him more. If he wanted her dead, he would turn her to ashes where she stood. How hard she braced herself in advance wouldn't matter in the slightest. But people could be so foolish in moments of terror.

"Well speaking of that," she said before clearing her throat, an attempt at a natural transition, "We were trying to decide what song she would sing. Maybe one of our originals? Or do you think it would be more tasteful to go with something from an outside source?"

Gritting his teeth, he buried the urge to unleash the bright beams of red from his sockets. His hands slid off one another and pressed down onto the cool table.

"Do you really need me to decide what song is going to send Translucent to the grave?" he replied, "I don't care what you play, and no one else attending will either. They'll be focused on working up some tears for the useless dipshit they never had the displeasure of knowing. Instead of trying to gain their approval, we should be working on finding the next member of the Seven who can replace him. There's no use dwelling on the past. We need to be preparing for the future."

He paused to let his words permeate the room, giving everyone a chance to absorb the sentiment and adapt accordingly. With his pupils still trained on Ashley, he planned on continuing his tirade, but his train of thought came to an abrupt halt.

Soft pitter-patters of footsteps clacked down the hall outside this room. They sounded in a delicate rhythm, only audible to him. As they grew louder, he caught the scent of the source too. Airy and light. A stark contrast to the brash perfume Ashley doused herself in.

The doors at the front of the room slid apart to reveal you.

You stood there for a moment. The realization that you'd interrupted something was visible in your eyes. The small spheres cast down as you wobbled in like a fawn that sensed wolves watching from nearby.

Ashley turned to face you, a glower already set on her features. The resentment she held for everyone else in this building awoke from its usual dormant slumber because there was finally someone weaker she could take it out on.

Once you reached her, your hand rose and gave her a thin stack of papers. 

"I'm sorry for interrupting. It's a memo from 82. They made it sound urgent," you explained, everything about your temperament meek and timid.

After a brief pause to let you marinate in the few moments before your inevitable humiliation, she snatched the papers from you. Her eyes roamed over the page with disinterest. Even if the information conveyed by the small black letters was important, he doubted she would give it any reaction. She wanted to lash out, and she was going to, whether it was justified or not.

"They couldn't have emailed me this?" she snapped, as if that was something you could control.

"I don't know. I'm sorry. I'll check next time," you offered.

"You better or you'll run out of next times," she threatened, "Incompetence like this won't fly here. You're in the big leagues now, so act like it. Think before you do something instead of taking commands like a lap dog."

"I'm sorry," you replied, ducking your head again.

"Don't be sorry, just do better," she commanded.

"I will," you agreed.

"Good. Just get out of here now. Go pick up my lunch," she told you.

His lips curled into a scowl as he watched the scene play out. It was pathetic - not you, but Ashley. He hated seeing the fucking smirk on her face as you walked away. She had nothing to be smug about. She was nothing more than a feral coyote going after the scraps the other predators didn't take.

To make matters worse, when she returned her attention to the group at the table, she saw the look on his face. She saw the disdain, but instead of striking regret into her, it only deepened her sense of self-satisfaction.

She thought the look was for you. That he was disgusted with your mistake. Annoyed with your intrusion.

He couldn't have that. Not when that assumption was the farthest thing from the truth. Honestly, he didn't know if he was even capable of feeling such ire towards you. Not his precious little fawn.

Rising from his seat, his glare remained on Ashley. She did show a little fear then.

"You know, I don't have all day, Ashley. I'll open Translucent's funeral, Starlight will follow up with a song, and that will be it. A-Train and Noir can have the day off, because let's be honest, nobody will give shit either way," he mocked.

"But, sir-" she said, clearly confused by his sudden impending departure.

"I have more important things to deal with. If you need anything else, I'm sure one of the others can help you," he dismissed.

With that, he stepped back from the table and began heading to the doors. He hoped if he was fast enough he could still catch you. Even in a building as sleek and modern as this one, the elevators could be quite slow.

Walking out into the hall, his head swiveled in the direction you would have gone. For once, his own portrait didn't catch his eye. He didn't even think about stopping by Stillwell's office to reminisce. Instead, he just headed down towards the elevator. His red boots thudded across smooth tile in rapid succession, covering the path you'd just taken.

Finally, after a few feet, he spotted you. Bottom lip pulled between your teeth. Eyes glossy with embarrassment. Tip of your polished shoe tapping against the ground. You startled when his voice boomed across the space, calling out your name. So cute.

You looked at him with fear in your eyes, but disgust didn't fester in the pit of his stomach like it did when others gave him that anxious stare. Another feeling bloomed inside him, one he couldn't really place. It was just that the nervous gleam over your pupils didn't make him hate himself and all the circumstances of his life that put him in his position.

Instead, your wide eyes and pouty lips made him feel strong. You made him feel like a hero. A real one, not the artificial caricature that Vought projected to the world. With you nearby, he felt like the kind of guy who deserved the American flag blowing off his back with a pretty girl cradled in his arms and a dead enemy at his feet. When you gazed up at him, he could only imagine that the pride rushing through his chest and confidence pooling between his hips was the feeling his creators intended for him.

"Did you need something from me, sir?" you asked, reminding him that he actually had to provide a reason to talk to you. Just wanting to stare at you like a psychopath would not suffice unfortunately.

"Oh no," he waved off, "The meeting just finished up. I was heading out too. I saw you, and I realized I haven't really taken the time to get to know you yet, which is unfortunate because I usually like to be familiar with the newer people we have working with us."

A complete lie. Before you, he didn't remember ever giving any of the interns a second glance. They were true nuisances. They were Ashleys.

"Oh... well I'm around whenever you wanna talk. Ashley keeps me busy, but I'm sure I could make an exception for you," you replied.

"You absolutely can make an exception for me," he chuckled, "If Ashley gives you any trouble, just let me know, and I'll make sure she remembers who's really in charge around here."

It wasn't until he heard your heart rate increase that he realized those words probably came off as threatening. Well, they were threatening, but you weren't supposed to see him that way.

"I'm kidding," he forced out with a laugh, "Just joking around like I do... I just don't want you to worry about getting in some kind of trouble for me sniffing around you."

You huffed out an awkward laugh of your own and nodded.  "I'll be sure to make some time for you in the future then and let Ashley know it was at your direction."

"Great," he said with probably too much enthusiasm. 

His jaw clenched into one of his usual tight smiles. He averted his eyes from you and looked towards the numbers on the elevator. Fuck, it was reaching the bottom. He didn't want to let you go, but it wasn't like he could just stroll down the street with you to go get Ashley's lunch. His mind scrambled to come up with a solution.

But like your earlier intrusion into the meeting, your gentle voice cuts through the hurricane forming in his head.

"Are you alright, sir?" you ask, anxious concern written all over your features.

He refocused on you and nodded. His arm extended out behind you, his palm landing against the elevator wall. As he leaned in, he could smell your adrenaline spiking. He could hear the shift of your shoe against the ground. If only he possessed a sixth sense for the mind, so he could know what little thoughts about him were flitting through your head.

"I'm fine. You don't need to worry about me," he answered. He smiled down at you, observing the slight nod you gave him in return.

"Of course not. It probably seems silly coming from me," you said.

His brows raised in amusement. "What's that supposed to mean?" he asked.

He saw the flash of regret in your eyes. The one people always gave him when he asked a question in that tone. The one that came from the panic of realizing they may have said something that offended Homelander.

You suppressed it pretty well though and brought out a smile that gave the impression that you hoped he was messing with you instead.

"Well you know... because you're you," you said and tilted your head in an innocent way that made his chest ache.

He chuckled that charming, prepackaged laugh that had been trained into him. "Even I can appreciate someone taking an interest in checking on me," he replied.

It was maddening, how bad he wanted you. He wasn't even sure when this craving had sprouted inside him. He had been so preoccupied with his affinity for Stillwell that his fixation with you struck him like a glass window in front of a flying bird. But no matter the timeframe in which it blossomed, it had taken root by now and wasn't going to go away on its own.

When he looked at you like this - staring up at him with earnest fascination - his mind drifted to darker places all on its own. He couldn't stop it if he wanted to (and really, he didn't want to). It's just how was he not supposed to be aware of the fact that it would be all too easy to take you back to his room? How could he not think about what it would feel like to have your fragile body beneath his own in private? How could he not wonder what you'd sound like crying out in a sinful mix of pleasure and pain?

Hell, how was he supposed to pretend like he couldn't just bend you over and fuck you dumb right here in the middle of this elevator if he wanted to? No one would be able to stop him. There wouldn't be a thing they could do other than watch. They could stare in horror as he used you like he deserved, as he pounded into your warm, soft, dripping hole like he needed...

Unfortunately, painting that picture in his head had his blood rushing South. He felt the subtle simmer of desire in his pelvis, and he knew in no time his length would be filling out. This suit gave him no way of hiding it either. Clearly, whoever made it hadn't anticipated the Homelander popping a boner on the job.

But luckily for him, the elevator chimed with its arrival at the bottom floor. He straightened out as you looked ahead in preparation of your departure. But before you could go, he grabbed your arm. His touch was tender, holding the same force he'd use when cradling a baby at a photo-op.

"Maybe later tonight you'd like to take me up on one of those talks? After you're done for the day, you could stop by my place. The sooner the better, right?" he asked.

Your eyes widened ever so slightly, but you still nodded. "Um... sure thing. I'll head up once I've finished all my work. It should be around six if that's ok?" you offered.

"Yeah, that works for me. I'll be waiting," he said in an attempt to be playful.

You smiled once more and then headed out of the elevator. His fingertips dragged down your arm to your wrist as you walked away before you finally slipped from his grasp. He could hear your heart pounding faster than your footsteps as you headed towards the exit of the building.

At six o'clock sharp, a knock sounded through his penthouse. And it only took him a few seconds to swing the door open and greet you.

"There she is," he beamed with exaggerated politeness.

You smiled modestly in return, shrugging and smoothing out a crease in your blouse. "I couldn't let the leader of the seven down," you joked.

He scoffed but opened the door wider, beckoning you into his place. You took the invitation and crossed the threshold. Your eyes glanced around the place, taking note of all the things in the apartment that housed the most powerful man on Earth.

The American flag taking up an entire wall almost stopped you in your tracks. It would've been funny if it was someone else, but because it belonged to him, it stood there like a warning. You tried not to show how daunting you found it. Average people could be touchy about that famous piece of cloth. You didn't want to find out if the strongest supe felt the same through means of offending him. 

In place of letting that bother you, you shifted your attention over to all the historical pictures hanging on the walls and the sleek surfaces and drawers filled with things you couldn't begin to imagine. Your eyes casted over the statues accenting the space as well. It was all so very polished. It looked like what you'd expect the Homelander entry in an Ikea catalog to be.

"So what do you think?" he asked. He knew his words came off as stiff. Probably a little stilted sounding. He just couldn't help it. For the first time, he couldn't get a read on how you felt through physical signs alone. And right now, he really really wanted you to like him.

"It's... impressive," you answered.

But he could hear the hesitation in your voice. In each word, there was the same wavering quality to it that you get when Ashley grilled you in front of an audience. It wasn't the precious reverence that he saw in the elevator. The nervous kind of admiration you held for someone above your standing. This was just plain anxiety, and that served no purpose to him. 

Despite your trepidation however, you walked forward to the window at the back of the place. You looked out over the city in awe.

"I would love to live somewhere high up like this," you said.

He came up from behind to stand next to you in front of the glass panes. His eyes landed on your face. You stared out the window, wonder twinkling in your eyes. Your voice sounded almost breathless. It was adorable.

"No fear of heights?" he asked.

"Not when it comes to being inside. Maybe I'd be nervous if we were on a balcony or something," you replied.

"Oh come on. You'd have nothing to worry about if you were with me. I'd never let you fall," he said, dropping his voice a few octaves.

You made that cute little face again when those words hit your ears. Your eyes widened before they fell to look at your shoes. So modest, the way you shied away. He wondered if you were always so timid or if it was only when a god amongst men like himself flirted with you.

He chuckled and reached out, tilting your chin back up to look at him. "You don't need to be nervous," he soothed, "There's no safer place to be than with the Homelander, right?"

You nodded right along. His words left no room for objection.

"Good girl," he smirked and dragged a gloved thumb over your cheek. He pulled his hand back and stepped in the direction of the brown leather sectional that sat in the middle of the room.

"Come over here and sit down. We can talk," he directed.

Following him to the large couch, you took your seat near the corner. You assumed he'd sit at the other end or at least towards the middle of the perpendicular cushions, but no. He sat down in the corner with you. His body was at most a foot away.

He continued to smile at you though he didn't speak. It felt odd, sitting there in silence across from him. He wasn't doing anything overtly threatening, yet you still felt at his mercy.

"So, do you like it here so far? Do you feel like you're fitting into the Vought family?" he asked with a bit of an edge to that second word.

You nodded again. A relieved breath seeped from your lungs as the tense void in conversation came to an end. "Yeah, it's nice here. I feel like I'm learning a lot."

He chuckled and leaned back against the stiff backing of the sofa. His muscular arm draped along the top. Though it wasn't his intention to draw your focus there, he caught the way your eyes dragged over his bicep.

"That's good," he said, "It can be a lot when you're new. I wouldn't want you feeling overwhelmed."

"That's nice of you. I appreciate it, but I'm used to a busy schedule," you replied.

"You're freshly graduated, aren't you?" he checked.

"Yeah," you said, your lips quirking upwards at his guess.

"I thought so. You have that cute, wide-eyed, optimistic thing going for you."

A small laugh leaves your lips. "I know. Ashley said I'll grow out of it by the end of this quarter."

His face dropped, and he almost abandoned the prince charming act he was attempting to pull off for you. The mere mention of Ashley was enough to irk him, but the thought that she was trying to change you? Not only change you but jade you. To strip away the soft and sweet qualities that hooked him on you in the first place. It was criminal. He couldn't hide his disdain.

"You shouldn't listen to her," he said. He wasn't angry, but his cadence held intensity. "Ashley's problem is Ashley. To be honest, I don't even know why they gave her an intern. It's not like she'd be good at teaching anything when she still doesn't understand most things about our business herself."

Your fingers dug into the edge of your seat. It wouldn't have been significant in a normal conversation, but when speaking with a man who could hear a pin drop forty stories down, he noticed.

"You're still nervous," he observed.

In an instant, your hands flew to your lap, like you knew what gave your anxiety away. You fidgeted with the hem of your skirt and shrugged.

"A little," you admitted.

"Are you scared of me?" he asked.

You shook your head without even thinking about the question.

"No, it's not that. I swear," you reassured, "It's just that this is a big deal for me. I'm really honored you want to get to know me, and I just want to make a good impression."

"You don't need to worry about that. I wouldn't have invited you here if I didn't have a good impression of you," he said.

You sighed slightly, letting out a bit of tension, but he could still smell that boosted cortisol running through your blood.

"Come here," he ordered, his voice soft but undeniably firm.

"What?" you asked.

A puff of amused air blew from his nostrils. "Come here," he repeated, "Sit closer."

As if you needed the guidance, he patted the space directly beside his hip. He could see the uncertainty in your eyes even after the gesture. The lack of understanding toward his reasoning persisted. Regardless of your skepticism however, you scooted in his direction and ended up where he wanted you.

"That's better," he said.

With careful fingers, he slipped the glove off his right hand. Your eyes locked on it in subtle awe. You'd seen this man on billboards and commercials for years. His face dominated newscasts. His voice broadcast over the radio on a weekly basis. Still, you had never seen such a human part of him. Five fingers and a palm reaching for your own.

They clasped around your hand. His skin was smooth. The gloves preserved them from any marks of experience.

"Did Ashley warn you about me?" he asked, drawing your eyes back to his own.

Your heart thundered, but you couldn't lie. Never had Vought bragged about Homelander being a human lie detector, but in this moment, you felt like that was the case.

"Yes," you responded.

He clicked his tongue in disapproval. "You didn't believe her, did you?" he asked.

You could tell he already knew the answer. He just wanted to hear it.

"Yes," you whispered again.

"What did she tell you?"

It was hard to remember that conversation you'd had a few weeks ago with Ashley. Feeling like you were two seconds away from having lasers beamed through your skull made minute details fuzzy and distant, but you manage to choke a few out anyways.

"She said that you have a very specific vision for the Seven, and that you'll do anything to make your dreams reality. She was just saying you're ambitious. That you care about the greater good," you summarized.

"I have a feeling you're saying it a lot nicer than she did," he teased. He could feel the fear rolling off of you in waves, and in a moment, he would rectify that. But for right now, he didn't mind letting his precious little fawn tremble in terror for a few moments more.

"Yeah, she can be kind of blunt," you said with a shaky laugh.

"That's one word for it," he said.

"She's not gonna get in trouble because of what I said, is she?" you asked.

He couldn't help laughing at that. The sound came out low and throaty. You were just so fucking pure. Worried about protecting someone who wouldn't hesitate for a second to sell you out if it meant she could climb up another rung on the corporate ladder.

His exposed thumb rubbed back and forth over your knuckles. "No. Of course not. We're just talking," he said.

He leaned in closer to you, positioning his mouth in close proximity to your ear. His free hand came up to cup your jaw.

"I appreciate your honesty though. Ashley probably couldn't tell you this, but I appreciate a loyal girl like you," he murmured.

On both your hand and through his glove in contact with your chin, he could feel your skin heat up.

"Oh... thank you, sir," you said.

He chuckled. His fingers squished into the flesh of your cheeks, making your lips puff out as though they were seeking a kiss.

"So polite, but I like that. We need more people here who understand their place," he said.

At this point, the gravity of your circumstances began to settle on you. Your fear had worn off a bit, and you realized what a compromising position he had you in. With one tight squeeze, he could crush every bone in your face.

Out of instinct, you tried pulling back a little. You didn't make it obvious, only attempting to gain a few inches of space.

That was a few inches too many though. He tightened his grip and kept you where he wanted you.

"Ah ah," he tutted, "How many times do I have to tell you that you don't need to be scared? I'm not going to hurt you."

You dropped the resistance right then and there. It wasn't worth pursuing. If he didn't want you getting away, you weren't getting away.

He took a few more seconds to study your face, taking in every minutiae of your expressions. Then, his hands dropped to your waist, and he pulled you into his lap. His thighs were firm against your ass, both rigid in how he carried himself and defined from the pure muscle that made them up.

His hands smoothed up and down your sides, coasting over each crease in your blouse. He massaged your soft tissue with gentle squeezes from the beginning of your bra down to the swell of your hips.

"God, you're beautiful," he muttered, "You fit here like you were made for me."

You vibrated in his grasp. He could feel the way you quivered with the urge to pull away.

"Thank you, s-sir," you stammered, "I really appreciate it but-"

"But nothing," he cut you off.

"But I don't think we should be... doing this," you tried to continue anyway.

"Why not?" he asked. Though his tone made it obvious that no matter what reason you provided, it wouldn't change his mind.

"Because you're like my boss, y'know? And I worked really hard to get my spot here, and I don't want people thinking I slept my way to where I am," you explained, "You're really nice, and I admire you a lot, but it wouldn't be right."

He didn't respond immediately. He paused and let your words hang in the air for a few moments.

"You know," he finally spoke, "I don't think you understand how things work around here. It doesn't matter what anyone else in this building thinks. Only me."

You blinked at him, unsure of how to respond to such an assertion. It didn't matter though. He continued without your input.

"What I do with you, how I feel about you - no one else will know about it unless you tell them. But even if you do and even if they care, there isn't a thing they'll do about it. There's not a thing they can do about it," he continued.

"I still don't think it's a good idea," you maintained.

"Good thing this isn't for you to think about then," he mocked, "You're a fast learner. You'll figure it out soon enough. I am God in this tower. And a god doesn't listen to his subjects. He guides them. He knows best."

One of his hands slid up your tummy and over your chest onto your throat. He cupped your jaw and swiped his thumb back and forth across your bottom lip.

"What did Ashley tell you about me?" he asked.

"That no one gets in your way."

"Good. And she was right. No one gets in my way. Nothing stops me from getting what I want. And I've wanted you for too fucking long not to try you out."

That set of fingers on your chin pulled your face towards his and brought you into a kiss. You froze against his lips. It felt as though all of time stopped. This high up, you couldn't hear the sounds of the city outside the penthouse. No one existed in this moment but you and him.

Unlike you, he melted into the exchange. He sighed against your skin and pulled you flush against his toned body. After a second to let you come to terms with what was happening, he kissed you again. His lips sucked on yours gently, attempting to coax you into returning the affection.

The most he got is you puckering them up ever so slightly.

He pulled away with frustration in his eyes and grabbed your face, jerking you a little to look at him.

"Don't act like you don't want this. I know you do," he said, "You're scared, but you don't need to be. Relax and let yourself enjoy this. It's not everyday that the most powerful man on earth wants to fuck you."

Your eyes blew up like little saucers, but before you could really process the directness of what he'd said, he was kissing you again. This time it wasn't as nerve wracking. You softened up a little and kissed back.

You didn't put much effort into it. Your lips responded like this was a juvenile first date. But he didn't let up. He didn't let you give him anything less than your best. His hands roamed across your body. They groped and fondled your breasts and then migrated South to feel up your ass through your pencil skirt.

Your muscles started to loosen up after a minute or so. You told yourself this wasn't so bad. He was being gentle so far, and for someone with his abilities, you wanted it to stay that way. You brought your hand up to his face and cupped his cheek. With that as leverage, you deepened the kiss.

He groaned as soon as you started to give in. His hands fell to your hips and tugged you so that you were straddling him. He smacked your ass, the sound echoing around his apartment. You could tell he held back. A real spank from Homelander could shatter your hip, but this one barely even stung. Maybe he did like you.

His fingers came up and with a sharp tug, he popped the front of your top loose. The column of buttons sprung free. The strips of cloth fell away to each of your sides, exposing a sliver of your skin. He furthered it by pulling off the garment entirely. His eyes trailed along your bare shoulders to your collar bone before finally landing on your breasts. He gave them a firm squeeze, kneading them through the barrier of your bra.

Meanwhile you rolled your hips down on his lap. Immediately, you felt his bulge that had risen to attention between your thighs. You did it again and then again. Each time you ground yourself against him with more pressure.

He grunted, and his eyes fluttered. His hands returned to your waist and gripped you hard, guiding your movements. He seemed transfixed for a few moments, as if he couldn't decide his next move.

After a few seconds though, he got his momentum back. He yanked you off his lap and flipped over so that you were seated on the couch again.

He rose to his feet before you. There your eyes scanned over his body from his tousled blond hair and his kiss-swollen red lips to his sculpted abdomen and his swelling erection. You reached out to touch him, but he stopped your hand mid-air.

Once your arm was limp on the couch again, he removed his other glove. He dropped it to the floor before bringing his right boot to the spot on the sofa next to you. He unzipped the red shoe and then discarded it like he had with the other item. The other boot followed the same routine.

"I don't let just anyone see me like this," he told you as his fingers began to undo his collar, "You should feel lucky."

Lucky wasn't the word you would use to describe your feelings in this situation. Maybe special. Or distinct. Individual. Either way, you continued to watch. Your eyes glided over his figure as he pulled away the tight blue costume that seemed like a second-skin for how much he wore it.

His defined chest came into view. Your reluctance hadn't vanished all together just yet, but at this point, it was fading fast. Pale hair dusted the muscular expanse and trailed down his stomach to the waistband of the bottoms. The waistband he soon hooked his fingers over and peeled down.

He dropped the scaled navy fabric to the ground before kicking it away, leaving himself in just a small pair of boxers. His hand came down and rubbed the swollen tent at the front while his eyes lingered on you.

"Do you want to touch?" he asked.

You nodded. It wasn't a hard decision. This was still a bad idea. You hadn't changed your mind on that. But at this point, what else was there to do? Defying Homelander wasn't an option for anyone on this planet ever. You were no different.

"Ask," he commanded.

"Please can I touch you?" you said.

"Please what?"

"Please, sir. Can I touch you?"

"Good girl," he praised before nodding, "Go for it."

You reached out, this time successfully. Your palm landed flat on his stomach. You held it there for a moment, just feeling his skin. In a way, it was unreal. To feel that someone propped up on the world's pedestal was flesh and blood like you.

Rubbing up and down, you continued getting a feel for his body. He smirked at your wonder before guiding you up by the elbow.

"Stand up and do it right," he said.

"Sorry."

The word came from your mouth automatically. You brought your other hand up to his chest and felt the muscles in his chest. Everything was so built. You expected that, but it was still odd to feel beneath your fingertips. He felt like a living ken doll. You almost didn't believe if he dropped his boxers there would be a real cock there.

Your hands traced up to his shoulders with precision. They explored down his biceps and forearms. And then finally, you brought your lips into his chest. He sighed and tilted his head back, relishing the feeling.

You kissed all over, swirling your tongue and tracing shapes onto his skin. It was almost entrancing, to be so focused on someone like this. You barely noticed as he turned the two of you and sat himself down on the couch, lowering you to your knees.

You worked your mouth down his abs, licking and kissing the twitching muscles. Your fingernails scraped up his sides and then down onto his thighs. When your lips reached the waistband of his boxers, your eyes glanced up at him.

"Can I take them off, sir?" you asked.

He smirked at the title. Only one word of correction and he'd trained that phrase into you.

"Yes," he answered. It was a simple answer. All that was required for someone so naturally obedient.

You took it in stride, tucking your fingers over the elastic and tearing them down. His hard cock popped up and slapped against his pelvis. You couldn't have been happier about your earlier ken doll theory being proven wrong. The sight of his dick was enough to make you drool. It was better than any work of art out there.

It rested against his body at the perfect length, the perfect girth. The tip flushed beautiful red and pearly white beads of precum smeared at the top. Your fingers wrapped around it and gave it a few strokes, testing the waters.

His hand came down and petted your head. He watched as you studied the appendage, as you experimented with your own touch. It was so fucking cute he thought he might cum right then and there. Fuck, he thought you were sweet every moment he had eyes on you, but right now, you were darling. You were doing as he said. Accepting your place at the feet of a superior being.

"Put it in your mouth," he said from above, "I want you to taste it."

There was no hesitation on your end this time around.

"Yes sir," you responded before leaning forward and wrapping your lips around his cock.

He groaned and let his chest hollow out with a harsh exhale. Your mouth was so warm and wet, nice and snug around his length. He rocked his hips up, pushing it further into your throat. He expected a small gag or sputter, but instead you moaned. You shut your eyes and flattened your tongue against his shaft before beginning to bob your head.

"Fuck," he hissed. His legs tensed up, and he pressed down on your head. That did get a tiny gag out of you. You gripped his hips to stabilize yourself though and stayed in place. Your nose nestled against the darker curls of hair that sat at the base of his cock.

Spit leaked from your mouth and dribbled onto his skin below. He took a few moments to just enjoy the feeling of his dick down your throat. The sight of his sweet, innocent girl choking on his cock. Then he let you pull off and catch your breath. 

You took a few deep puffs, letting the spots clear from your vision before you dove back in for more. Your hand stroked the lower part of him your mouth didn't cover in its shallow sucks while your other set of fingers caressed his balls tenderly.

He'd never experienced devotion. As much as it pained him to ever acknowledge, his sexual experiences had been lackluster up until now. There were the times with Maeve, but they always left something to be desired for him. Then there was the time with Stillwell that ended before it really started. In either case, no one had ever put all of themselves into pleasuring him like you were doing right now. It drove him wild. He could feel his sac tightening up, and he knew he had to get you off.

Planting one hand on each side of your head, he tugged you back. You looked up at him with glossy, cock-drunk eyes and saliva-coated lips. He swiped some of the mess away before addressing you.

"You're doing so good for me, but I think you're ready for more, don't you?"

"Yes, sir," you agreed.

"My perfect pet," he crooned and pulled you up onto the couch.

He laid you flat on your back and ripped your skirt and panties off in one go. His eyes drank in the sight of your nude lower half, but he didn't spend much time savoring it. He spread you out, slotting himself against your center.

With a few rocks of his hips, he dragged his length through your wetness. He let the sticky fluid coat his shaft, and then he sunk in. His tip bullied its way into your entrance and the rest of him followed. You whined at the stretch. Your walls clamped around him, eager to accept the intrusion.

"Atta girl," he grunted as he worked himself all the way in.

His hips connected with your ass, but he still bucked them, trying to get more. You yelped at the force. He was already buried inside you. Anymore and his tip would be nudging the entrance to your womb.

Fortunately for you, he pulled his hips back, giving you a short break from feeling so full. It was short lived though. Seconds later he snapped back in. That began the quick rhythm he set into. It was desperate and needy, emotions he'd tried to hide until this point.

You whimpered as your body bobbed with the momentum. His thrusts bounced you back and forth. The sounds of his body smacking against yours filled the room. His fingers dug into your waist hard enough to bruise. You didn't complain about the minor pain though because you could tell he was holding back in every other regard. If a few marks on your side kept you from being pulverized by a super cock, then that was a burden you were willing to carry.

Above you, he starts to pant. His breaths leave him raggedly huffing, sucking down what oxygen he can get in the midst of rutting into you. He tilts his head down at you and gazes at your blissed out face with lidded eyes.

"I could have anyone. Any person on this Earth would be mine if I wanted them to be. But the only one I want is you. Doesn't that feel good?" he breathed.

"Yes!" you cried out. Your back arched up off the couch. "Feels so fucking good, sir."

He leaned into you more, squishing your body into the surface below. Your thighs pressed against your tummy as he bent you.

"Yeah, it does," he grunted, "It's all there is. It's all you need to think about. How you're all mine."

"Mhm," you whined with a lazy nod. You were getting closer to cumming and responding to his words was taking a lower priority in your mind.

"And to think you tried to deny yourself of it," he mocked. He clenched his jaw and slammed into you harder.

You shrieked and clutched his shoulders. In the back of your mind, you hoped his penthouse was sound proofed or at least enough distance from the nearest one. Otherwise you wouldn't have to tell anyone about this incident for it to spread throughout the tower.

"I knew better, didn't I? I knew this is what you needed," he said.

Again, you nodded. You felt the heat in your belly reaching the boiling point.

"Say it," he huffed.

You tried to force it out, but your own hiccuped sob of pleasure cut you off. He didn't give you a break though. He stared down at you with expectation, so you continued.

"You know best- uh, fuck- you know best, sir," you whined.

"Good fucking girl," he growled on top of you.

He was already close from the blowjob you'd given him. Only a few strokes more, and he was ready to explode. He swiveled his hips, angling them upwards to pound into that special spot that would make you see stars and stripes.

You mewled when you came. Your body trembled harder than it did when you were scared. Arousal gushed out of you and coated his skin. He huffed and buried his face in your neck before letting go.

Everything faded into the background as you laid underneath him in the haze that came after the absolute high of pleasure. Now you could feel his heartbeat too. The organ thundered against his chest over and over as he came down.

Minutes later he pulled back. His knuckles caressed down your jawline before he climbed off of you entirely. He sat back on the couch and let out a deep breath. You weren't sure whether you were supposed to pick up your stuff and leave or follow along with him and stay close to his side. There was no real indication of what he wanted in this moment, but he turned to smile at you and huffed out a laugh.

"I think I'll keep you with me more often now. Really show you the ropes of fitting in around here."

You sat up and nodded awkwardly. He leaned toward you, cupping your cheek.

"I'll be a much better teacher than Ashley ever was," he said. His arm snaked around you and pulled you to his chest again. "No more errands or coffee runs. I'll show you things you need. Things that you'll enjoy."

He ran his fingers over your face and kissed your temple. The touches were tender against your skin. They would have been romantic if your mind wasn't racing with what this all meant in terms of your job and the grand scheme of your future.

Looking at him though, he wasn't worried at all. He smiled down at you before whispering once more.

"My sweet little pet. All mine now."

[personifiedsmol]

ultrakill v models concepts for hypothetical tails they’d have :33

also tails doodle dump, mostly mirage