#back to unpacking

[teademoness]

The urge to throw out my closet and refill it with y2k clothing is so strong...;-;

[qoldenskies]

i think its so funny when people take the way donnie acts at face value even though its a horrible lie because he's a horrible liar, while understanding leo is bullshitting very well despite him actually being GOOD at bullshitting. many such cases

[blueberryflavoredfeelings]

does the bbc even understand how much money they’d make if the made a Disney Enchanted 2007 style Merlin sequel where Merlin has been alive, moving from place to place, magicking himself young and aging then moving and magicking himself younger and aging then moving and suddenly Arthur pops out of a lake, completely unaware of current events and is walking around demanding his manservant, claiming to be King Arthur Pendragon and he either

a. Gets on the news somehow and Merlin, doing whatever he’s doing now, sees and drops everything because WHAT IS ARTHUR DOING HERE AND ALIVE

b. Meets Merlin who has been working as a detective somewhere -because that’s basically what he did anyway-solving things and helping people, the family business, and Arthur is dragged in, handcuffed, and plopped in an interrogation room or the drunk tank with the cop who found him saying like This wacko thinks he’s some medieval king, go deal with him, and Merlin scoffs and walks in, promptly dropping his files and spilling his coffee when he sees a disheveled and petulant Arthur, who goes Merlin, finally, get me out of here already, will you and Merlin starts crying lmaooo

or c. Meets Merlin who has been working at an ER because, again, he was physician adjacent, and someone drags a wet Arthur in, like Found this, it looks like he might hypothermiate deal with him, and Merlin sees him, drops his files, spills his coffee, and starts crying hahaha

because I’m thinking that’d be fun and probably everyone on tumblr and everyone who knows someone on tumblr would go bonkers over it

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Who put these kids here?

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[souvenir116]

The way he couldn't take his eyes off Max, not even for a second...

[nuthong]

captain nano o7

[1960z]

[dying-suffering-french-stalkers]

now that i finished the silm i am back on my lotr the two towers grindset. aragorn son of arathorn i am studying you like a bug. every other sentence is all “he was tall and beautiful like the sea-kings of old” and then he does something like get down flat in the grass to listen for just how many horses gandalf summoned for them (as though that will not become apparent in minutes). he learned rohirric bc he spent part of his youth soldiering with them and he took the time to translate their song-lore into westron and to sing before their lords' graves. he tries to pull kingly rank in another king's hall, to the king's DOORMAN (crucial to note he also knows this king!), bc he doesn't want to give up his sick-ass sword. i love him your honor

[polaritydisturbed]

Guys, guys, please—I can't do this. This episode isn't about painting UNIT as some flawless institution under unfair attack. It’s about a deeply flawed system. One that, on little to no evidence of an actual alien threat, invades a small town in full SWAT gear. That’s not meant to be a good thing.

It’s a story where the person in charge literally releases a dangerous creature to prove a point—and that same institution is being targeted by a misinformation campaign. And yet, despite those serious flaws, they do ultimately act to protect people. That’s the tension. That’s the point.

Let me be clear: this is an allegory for COVID and the online grifters and influencers who took advantage of the pandemic to spread hate and gain popularity—and who continue to do so now.

It’s about how institutions—even when compromised, bureaucratic, or short-sighted—still have the capacity to do good. They’re made of people, many of whom are trying to hold the line, trying to save lives, trying to do the right thing while the ground shifts under them.

But those imperfections? They make it easy for grifters to walk in and sell a fantasy. People like Conrad don’t actually want to protect anyone—they want control. And they know how to dress up that pursuit of power in the language of liberation. He says he’s standing up for you, for “truth,” for “the people,” but really he’s weaponizing frustration, anger, and distrust for his own gain.

Conrad always knew aliens were real. He wasn’t trying to expose lies. He was trying to punish UNIT for not recruiting him. That’s it. His whole crusade is built on a personal grudge. He rejects the Doctor’s reality not because it’s implausible, but because he wasn’t chosen.

That’s the core danger here: villains who tell you exactly what you want to hear. Who appeal to your cause, your values, your righteous anger. They frame themselves as underdogs, rebels, visionaries. But when you look closer, their plans are hollow. Destruction for destruction’s sake, dressed up in whatever narrative gets clicks and followers. People saw what they wanted to see in Conrad. Whatever oppressive system they hate, he claimed to be fighting it. He let you project your beliefs onto him—just like grifters do in real life. He made destruction feel like justice.

Ruby drank the vial, Conrad didn’t. That vial was the only thing that negated the Shreek’s vomit-based marking system, and by refusing to drink it, Conrad didn’t just risk his own life—he put everyone else in danger. Just like those that refused to take the vaccine.

And Kate, in releasing the monster, represents those who, during the pandemic, felt frustration and helplessness. She symbolizes the moment some threw up their hands and said, “If they won’t take the vaccine, let them die.” But that mindset didn’t solve the problem; it only escalated it. The monster had already shown it could mark more than one person, and there was no guarantee it wouldn’t strike again. The monster, like the virus, didn’t distinguish between those who made bad choices and those who couldn’t protect themselves. And she released it anyway.

By surrendering to that frustration, she was putting the vulnerable at greater risk, the very people who needed protection the most.

This mirrors the situation with COVID: surrendering to misinformation or personal pride jeopardizes the lives of the vulnerable, children, the immunocompromised, and those without the same choices or protections.

It was only because of Ruby that those consequences didn’t spiral out of control. Ruby didn’t just save lives—she prevented Kate’s breakdown in judgment from becoming a catastrophe.

So no, this isn’t “UNIT good, Conrad bad.” It’s a story about nuance. About how flawed systems can still serve the public good, and how those flaws are exploited by bad-faith actors who don’t care about truth or safety. It’s a warning: be careful who you believe, and why. Just because someone says what you’re thinking doesn’t mean they’re right. And just because a system needs fixing doesn’t mean you burn it all down.

The episode holds up a mirror to us and asks: what do you do when the systems meant to protect you fall short? Do you give up? Do you burn down the establishment, ignoring that it would put people at great danger? Or do you recognize that while the system is flawed, it still has the capacity to do good, and that dismantling it without a plan and without care for who gets caught in the fallout can cause more harm than reforming it ever would? It challenges us to sit with discomfort, to hold more than one truth at once.

Conrad had valid grievances, but his actions still endangered lives. UNIT made mistakes, but it still stood between humanity and annihilation. Rejecting nuance in favor of easy answers may feel righteous, but it often leaves the most vulnerable to pay the price.

That said, I do think the episode would’ve been stronger had the Shreek actually attacked or marked someone else during that final confrontation. Even just one more target could have underscored the point that the threat was indiscriminate—that Kate’s decision risked more than just Conrad. It would’ve made the stakes more immediate, and made Ruby’s choice feel even more necessary.

And yeah—I really hope we get an episode someday that digs into the tightrope UNIT has to walk. How do you hold them accountable without exposing the dangerous technology and classified knowledge they safeguard? But that's not what this episode was targeting.

[tendafoot]

things i will never forgive the duffers for: denying us the spectacle of robin absolutely READING billy's ass

[cinematicnomad]

9-1-1 ▸ buck knowing choosing to hold on

[isan0rt]

Thinking about how much the front half of Dungeon Meshi gives such a very different impression of Kabru as a character than the back half. Like we joke about how he's watching Laios and Toshiro slap-fight with popcorn having a great time, and he is and it's true, but then my man focuses up REAL fucking fast the instant Canaries have boots on the ground and then it's Serious Fucking Business Kabru for the rest of the manga.

Like it's all fun and games when he's focused on trying to figure out what's going on with the Touden party. Like he's still trying to defeat the dungeon for his overall goals but his party's focus on catching "the thieves" is just more or less a distraction. A little side quest to work out a little interpersonal mystery he's been trying to figure out. He's having a fun little time putting together the pieces that didn't make any sense before.

Then the Canaries actually landing on Melini is for Kabru like the scene in Mulan where they walk into the ruined village and it abruptly stops being a musical for the whole rest of the film.

Playtime is fucking over! Kabru is the one guy who fully understands how much playtime is over the instant Canaries are involved. Shit is about to get real bad real fast. There is NO MORE TIME for goofing around. He's playing panicked defense for the entire rest of the manga.

(Side note speaking of panicked defense, it's interesting how much the scene of the illusory fish men followed by the sea serpent really establishes how Kabru reacts under pressure. He's got his shit so together during the illusions and fighting the corpse retrievers but the minute he's out of his element with the sea serpent he panics and can't give good orders, and would have gotten his whole party killed again if not for Toshiro's party.

You can see how this same dynamic plays out when his initial plan to convince the shadow lord backfires and Kabru panics and can't recover, and again when his plan to have Laios become the dungeon lord apparently backfires and he panics and has a full on breakdown. The particular nature of his trauma is such that when he loses control of a situation and something he didn't predict happens, he can't keep his head in the game, and the fact that Kui sets that up so early with the sea serpent is -chef's kiss- so good. It's a fascinating contrast with Laios, who really has a strength for thinking on his feet that enables him to succeed where Kabru's foresight and planning cannot.)

[sommerregenjuniluft]

@jegulus-microfic june 1st — pride — 1804words — nsfw! aka regulus purchases something and james is fortunate enough to unpack for @itmeanssungod & @veryinnovative

It’s been a while since Regulus started toying with the idea of trying out packing for himself. 

He doesn’t have too much dysphoria during sex anymore—which he is grateful for—since he’s completely healed from top surgery and especially with partners he knows. 

But lately Regulus has found out it feels really fucking good to just- keep the strap on afterwards. Just haphazardly yank on his boxer briefs once they’re done, purple tip peeking out over the top of the hem, and sex drunkenly stumble into the kitchen to get himself a gatorade from the fridge. Evan prefers water, which they keep in the room, and Barty prefers to crank open a window and smoke one.

It’s empowering in a way, he guesses. He’s still living with his brother and James is over more times than he is not. Just liking the company of a busy house full of people he reasons with a shrug every time the topic comes up. Missing the old days in a dorm.

Regulus is pretty sure there’s truth in that statement but he’s also not stupid and convincing himself he’s only imagining the looks James is sending his way has only worked for so long. It’s near ridiculous to think he’s been oblivious to it for so long.

But Regulus isn’t anymore because when he’d gone to get his gatorade James had, to spell it out politely, nearly died from choking on his pasta salad when he’d looked up from his phone and at Regulus.

So with the arrival of pride Regulus had saved up and treated himself with the purchase of a flaccid strap on. It matches his skin colour nearly perfectly, the head showing from under the foreskin. It’s got a nice feel to it, it’s proportionate to his body when Regulus looks at himself in the mirror and it’s comfortable where it’s hanging between his legs and resting in his underwear when he puts his clothes back on. It’s a little ridiculous but he knows it’s important so Regulus allows himself to tear up about it a little. About how bone deep good it makes him feel about himself.

He’s in grey joggers and a form fitting black T-shirt. Regulus turns to the side in front of the mirror, cups himself through the soft material of his pants. Barely audible he can hear James humming to himself in the kitchen. Regulus smirks.

“James,” Regulus greets as he enters the kitchen.

“Oh, hi, Reg,” James says, lifting from over the stove and taking out his airpods from where he was bobbing his head to the music playing on them. 

Regulus plops himself on a free spot on the counter and picks up a bottle of sauce he doesn’t recognise to busy himself with reading the label. “What are you cooking?”

James hums and proceeds to explain to him where he found the recipe on social media and what health benefits it has and how good it’s going to taste.

Regulus half listens and half plots internally how he’s going to subtly make James aware of his newest possession.

“Can I do something to help?”

“Err,” James blinks for a moment, then he lets out a chuckle, “The Regulus Black offering to help in the kitchen on his own volition? How much money do you need?”

Regulus rolls his eyes and swats him in the chest. “I was very much being sincere, for your information. But I can go of course, if my presence is not needed,” he says and makes to stand up.

“No no,” James replies quickly, raising his palms in a pacifying manner. They’re closer now and Regulus can see where James’ brain has momentarily paused its task of persuading Regulus to stay in favour of simply staring at him. His curls, his eyes, his lips. 

Regulus raises his eyebrows.

“You– ehm,” James starts, swallowing, “You caaaan– set the table?”

“Are you asking or telling?” Regulus inquires, taking another half step closer and delighting in the small intake of breath from James.

“Telling,” James answers. “Please.”

Regulus nods, biting back a smirk, and steps around James to get cutlers.

After he’s set those out he waits for James to go back to stirring the pasta that’s cooking on one of the back burners, right underneath the shelf with the plates. 

Regulus comes up from behind and sets a hand on James’ hip. “Pardon,” he murmurs and then stretches up on his toes, pressing his crotch right into James’ backside.

It has its desired effect immediately.

James’ breath hitches and in the next second he’s making an aborted noise deep in his throat.

Regulus’ lips twitch upwards at the corners, “Something wrong?”

James shakes his head, his voice cracking on the m-mh he makes, not opening his mouth. His hand is completely still where he’s got the wooden spoon gripped.

Regulus hums, leans in impossibly closer, really rubbing himself into James’ ass. James lets out a wheeze. Regulus tilts his head, mouth right next to the other’s ear, “How many do we need?”

“Hm?” James’ voice is thin.

“How many do we need, James?” Regulus repeats, fingers over his hip tightening marginally.

“Ah- um, what? Sorry, I’m—”

“Plates, James,” Regulus tuts, grinding his hips forward slightly, “How many plates?”

“O-oh,” James seems to take a deep, steadying breath, “Five?”

Regulus hums and then with one last little thrust grabs the plates before lifting back down and extracting himself.

He can feel James’ eyes glued to him the whole while Regulus is setting them on the table, neatly next to the cutlery. It fills Regulus’ entire body with a warm feeling. Eventually he saunters back over, coming to a stop right next to James, who is currently indecently staring at Regulus’ crotch. If it was anyone else in any other situation Regulus would have already punched them in the nose but this is different. This is Regulus purposely instigating and James stepping right into the trap Regulus has carefully placed between the foliage.

“Something you wanna ask?” Regulus ducks his head, catching James’ gaze where it’s evidently trained on his lap. 

He doesn’t quite manage to suppress his grin this time. James seems to notice that, sputtering at first before realisation dawns on his face.

“You– oh, you’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?” James replies, eyes narrowed slightly, flush high on his cheekbones regardless.

“Doing what?” Regulus asks innocently. He sets his elbows on the counter behind him, jutting out his hips teasingly.

James groans obscenely and then proceeds to cage Regulus right in, settling two palms on either side of Regulus’ elbows. 

“Regulus.” There’s a warning quality to the way James presses out his name.

“James,” Regulus purrs, angling his face to look up at the older man through his lashes.

James breathes out roughly through his nose, pupils dilating. “You’re packing, aren’t you?”

“I might be.”

“And you wanted me to know.”

Regulus makes a non-committal sound.

“God,” James curses, “You’re so infuriating. Do you know how hard it is to not—” 

He doesn’t finish the sentence. James’ eyes are roving over his face for clues and Regulus guesses if James is taking the inch, Regulus might as well give him the mile. Or, rather, the rest of the inches.

“You wanna see it?”

James’ mouth opens soundlessly. It takes a moment before he answers. “It?”

“My cock,” Regulus explains, licking his lips. “It’s new.”

James moans quietly, “Yeah, Reg, I wanna see your cock, fuck.”

Regulus sets his hands against the muscle connecting James’ neck and shoulder, “Can you get on your knees for me?”

“Is the sky blue?” James retorts, eyes glazing over as he sinks down in front of Regulus without further prompting. When he looks back up at Regulus with big, Bambi brown eyes from behind his glasses he looks so sweet Regulus considers briefly if he might be in over his head. “Can I?” James asks, gently hiking his fingertips into the band of Regulus’ sweats. 

Regulus nods and with that James pulls the clothing down.

There’s a little bit of nervous yet excited sweat breaking out on Regulus’ palms but before he has the opportunity to overthink, he already hears the groan punching out of James. 

“Fuck, Reg,” James whispers. “Oh, Christ, you’re so gorgeous. Look at him.”

Regulus sucks in an unsteady inhale and twists his fingers into the unruly mess that is James’ hair, having to hold onto something suddenly.

“You like it?” Regulus rasps.

James answers with a slightly delirious laugh tumbling out of him. He shakes his head in awe, fingers digging into the soft muscle of Regulus’ thighs. “Reg, don’t slap me, I’m just being sincere when I say I wanna take you into my mouth so badly.”

Regulus dampens a moan into a sigh, “You can.”

James rips his gaze away from his cock, a starstruck look in his pretty, dark eyes when he gapes up at him. Regulus nods his reassurance.

“Oh fuck.” 

Then James is sucking Regulus’ flaccid strap into his mouth. Working his tongue around it, hallowing his cheeks and really giving it his all. Like his goal is to get Regulus as hard as fast as humanly possible.

And Regulus knows it’s logically impossible but he swears he can feel James tonguing at him, getting terribly aroused by the image and feel of James giving him a fucking blowjob right there in the kitchen. A small noise slips out of Regulus and he accidentally tightens his grip in James’ hair. James responds beautifully, moaning around Regulus in his mouth and eyes fluttering like he’s getting off just as much on all of this as Regulus is. His lips stretch prettily around the silicone and Regulus thumbs softly at the stubble on James’ jaw.

There’s a moment where their eyes meet when James takes him all the way into the back of his throat, making the end of the strap push back against Regulus’ centre, where Regulus has the sudden realisation that he’s going to come if James keeps this up.

And that is decidedly the moment the front door opens, the laughter of their friends echoeing through the hallway.

James keens when Regulus pulls him off and quickly tugs the waistband of his sweatpants back up and pulls on James’ shirt until he stands as well. He looks like a kicked puppy as Regulus ushers him back to the stove, shoving the wooden spoon against his chest to stir the probably totally overcooked pasta. His mouth is twisted into a pout or maybe that’s just them being swollen from having Regulus in his mouth. 

Fuck it.

He takes James’ jaw in a loose grip to get his attention again. “Finish this after dinner?”

James’ answer is a bright smile and a quick kiss he steals himself against Regulus’ wrist.

[walkingnearfoxes]

The Right of the First Night (Homelander x Reader) - Part 3

3.5k words. NSFW. Homelander being very much the Homelander, so proceed with caution.

Didn’t read the first two and want an abridged version of their events? Homelander makes your husband a cuck. Have fun!

You haven’t seen Homelander in a few weeks. You know this is nothing personal; Vought has been running him ragged with public appearances nationwide to cover for the latest Seven fiasco. Your husband didn’t have many details about what happened, but he knew that Black Noir and the Deep’s numbers were suddenly tanking. Rumor around the office was that a standard save in the Bronx ended a bit bloodier than intended. Vought decided parading around the heroes who weren’t currently involved in a murderous scandal was the appropriate cover-up.

Homelander kept in touch. He had a chat with you, a chat with your husband, and a chat for the three of you. Communication was vital with him. His chats with you were shockingly innocent. He would send you pictures daily from around his tour, ranging from selfies with his roaring crowds to statues he liked, or just ask you about what you were up to. There wasn’t a day without an update from him to you. His texts to your husband were more work-oriented. He complained about the shittiness of the tour, checked in on his numbers, or asked for more insight onto what was happening in the tower without him present. Then, there were the texts to the two of you; they were filthy every time. He would go into detail about just what exactly he would do to you if you were with him - how he’d ravage you in front of his crowds, how he’d offer you as a prize at his conventions for the highest bidder. He demanded to know when and how you and your husband were having sex; the three of you used video chats frequently. 

The communication made it feel like he was never gone, but his physical absence was ideal timing. He was gone for about three weeks when you and your husband caught a nasty bug. It hit your husband first. He tried to soldier through, but the poor man could barely make it a few feet without feeling nauseous. Luckily, he never took days off and could reluctantly use some paid time off to recover. You got the bug a few days after him, though not quite as severely. Your stomach felt uneasy, but it came and went. It didn’t leave you bedridden the way it did your poor husband. Even when he started to feel like himself again, you refused to let him go in until he was fully better. God knows he deserved a break from the nonsense he dealt with daily.

The compromise was that you would bring his remote findings for him to Vought. You could keep him in bed, but you couldn’t keep him from getting bored and diving into his analytics from bed. On the day of your agreement, he handed you his work in a secure envelope. When you questioned why one of the world’s most high-tech companies relied on paper and envelopes instead of e-mails, your husband simply told you they couldn’t risk a digital trail. You could only imagine what information was in the envelope, and you resisted the urge to tear it open and find out.

So, you find yourself in Vought Tower without your husband for the first time. You text him when you make it to the elevator without accidentally causing a revolt.

The black hawk carries the tote to the sky.

He replies a moment later.

???

You chuckle as the elevator doors open to the floor of data analytics.

I thought this would be more fun with codenames.

Your eyes stay on your phone as you see your husband already typing. The poor man was bored to tears a week ago; you can only imagine how he’s feeling now.

Ha. It would be more fun if you let me go with you. 

Nope. You need to rest.

I hate rest.

Then keep yourself entertained. I’m sure you can find some fun ways to enjoy yourself…

Oh? Someone’s feeling saucy today.

You grin at your phone. He’s not wrong; maybe it’s your superthird's absence or your husband's lingering sickness, but you have felt awfully pent up lately. Surely some sexting could help the two of you as you carried out this mission. You look up and see you’ve reached the analytics office, but the door is locked. You arrived too early; it won’t open for another twenty minutes. You shrug and lean against the wall beside the door. Your husband specifically told you to hand it to a department member, and it’s not like you’re in a rush. You tuck the envelope under your arm and send your husband a reply.

If you’re really feeling better, maybe we can have some fun when you get home. It’s been too long.

You’re happy to see that your husband’s reply is swift.

Agreed. I think making you come would cure me right away.

You can’t help a little happy squirm against the wall as you shoot back a quick reply.

Orgasms are a miracle cure, so I’ve heard.

Then I’ll have to give you as many as possible. Screw the job. Who needs money? Come back right now.

You laugh quietly to yourself and move to send a reply, but someone clears their throat down the hall. You look up, and nearly jump out of your skin when you find Homelander staring back at you.

“Oh my God,” You squeak, instinctively stuffing your phone back in your pocket. “How long have you been standing there?”

He doesn’t answer. He moves forward, an amused crease between his brows that looks like trouble. When he’s standing only a few feet away from you, he holds out his hand and wags his fingers. A silent give me that gesture.

“Naughty girl,” He purrs in that tone that sends a shiver down your spine. “Sexting at work? I’ll need to confiscate that.”

You realize he likely read all of your texts. He could have read them without even being in the building. Your brief hesitation to piece this together has him raising a brow, as if concerned you’re disobeying him. You quickly take your phone out of your pocket and hand it to him.

“Thaaaaank you,” He opens your phone - when did he memorize your password? - and reads through the texts again. He chuckles and types his own reply. “Poor buddy still isn’t feeling well, huh? I’ll let him know you’re busy.”

You watch him as he types a reply, smirks to himself, and puts the phone away. When his eyes meet yours again, you manage to respond. “Are you back or is this just a visit?”

His smirk grows. “It was meant to be a quick stop on the way to Ottawa, but then I smelled you.”

Your nose crinkles in confusion. “...you smelled me?”

He gently pokes your nose crinkle with his finger. “I mean, I have your normal scent memorized. Of course,” He moves forward again. Your heart quickens as he leans in to whisper into your ear. “But then I smelled that delicious wetness between your legs. Someone’s worked up, hm? How could I leave you alone like that?”

Your brain short-circuits. It’s still so disorienting to sleep with a man who can read your body like a manual. He knows what you want from him by one muscle twitch. It makes it impossible to lie to him, and ever more impossible to deny him.

You hold up your envelope. “I need to deliver this to…someone.”

He takes it and uses his X-Ray vision to scan through the thick manila. He snorts when he’s done and shakes his head. “Damn, your man is good. I’ll take this. No one higher up in Vought than me, right?”

“He said-”

“I know what he said, sweetheart,” He coos as if speaking to a child, then wraps a hand around the back of your neck. He uses his grip to guide you towards the empty conference room across the hall. “Don’t worry your pretty little head over it. I’ll take it from here.”

He leads you into the room, then lets go of you to lock the door. You hear him close the blinds and toss the important document onto the floor. You take the time to look around the room. It’s small compared to the other rooms around the tower, only big enough for a table to sit five and a water cooler. You turn to look at Homelander and find he’s already staring back at you. He looks you up and down, and his brow furrows. Over time, you have begun to learn his cast of facial expressions. He briefly looks confused, and then his eyes widen. It seems like delighted surprise.

You blink, your own brow furrowing in confusion. “What’s wrong-”

But then he’s kissing you so hard your back stumbles into the table behind you. He always kisses you ravenously, but this hunger feels especially potent. His hands move quickly from cupping your face to feeling up the front of your body to grabbing your hips and lifting you onto the table. 

You respond instantly. You wrap your thighs around his waist and kiss back with the same hunger. You feel his appreciative grin against your lips. When he knows you need air to breathe, he kisses your neck. He moves between kisses and sucks and nibbles until a loud, needy moan shoots from your mouth. You suddenly remember where you are and dart a hand to cover your mouth. He chuckles in response. “Easy there. I missed you, too.”

He pulls away to look at you for a moment, and you’re delighted by the clear lust on his face. He squeezes your hips before angling his hands back up, resting them over your breasts. “Between me gone and hubby feeling down, you poor thing…fuck.”

He’s staring at your breasts as if he hasn’t seen them countless times before. You don’t need to ask to know he’s looking through your shirt and bra to stare at them. You bite gently down on your bottom lip, immediately catching his eyes. “Just take it all off,” You murmur to him.

Homelander growls. In a flurry of movements so fast you’re barely able to comprehend them, he tears at your clothing. Your shirt and bra are the first to go, flung back on one of the innocent office chairs. You expect him to go for your pants next, but instead, he moves forward like a man possessed to your chest. He sucks one of your nipples into his mouth with an obscene moan, lavishing attention with a mix of bites and flicks of his tongue. You gasp and curl your hands into his hair, tugging in pleasure and for some sort of grounding. He rewards you by curling one arm around your waist and his free hand fondling your other breast. The distance was just as taxing for him as it was for you. 

His mouth pops off your breast after leaving a large hickey along its side, and he looks near drunk with pleasure. “God, I’m never leaving again,” He growls, his low timber sending another wave of arousal through you. “Been pent up all fucking month.”

“Yeah?” You reply breathlessly. “No Homelander groupies along the way to sate the appetite?”

Those piercing blue eyes of his shoot up to your face, his nose wrinkling as if disgusted by the idea. “Why have that when I knew I had this meal waiting for me at home?”

He reluctantly moves from your breast to leave a trail of kisses down your stomach, distracted more than once by nipping at your sensitive skin. He grabs your waistband when he reaches it. “Ass up.”

You obey, and he uses his grip on your waist to hold you up as the pants and underwear come down in one swipe. You hear the distinct sound of a rip and sigh playfully. “I liked that pair…”

“I’ll buy you a thousand more,” He growls as he grabs your legs and pulls you forward so your hips just dangle off the ledge. He’s grown to like your snark more with time, but there’s always a line. Some days, he banters along with you. Other days, he fucks you until you don’t have the brain space to think of a single witty remark. You can’t say you hate those moments.

You watch with wide eyes as the most powerful man in the world kneels in front of you, pulling you closer still so your cunt is right in his face. Homelander inhales deeply, and that stimulation alone is enough to make you twitch. “Fuck…better every time. Can’t wait.”

An odd thing to say, but you don’t have much time to linger on it. He curls his hands to rest on your hips, holding you tightly to him as he eats you out like a man starved. He’s long since learned when to lick your clit, when to suck at your lips, when to curl his tongue into you to turn you into an absolute mess. He isn’t slow today, immediately diving in to drive you insane as quickly as possible. You let out a wheeze of a moan before remembering you’re in Vought Tower, and cover your mouth with a hand again. 

“Stop that,” He growls against your pussy, pulling away just enough to speak. “This whole fucking building knows you’re mine. Let it out.”

It's another declaration you question, but he dives right back in. With his tongue lapping at your slit, you don’t notice one of his hands moving to cup your ass. He squeezes your cheek greedily before slowly sliding a finger into your tight hole. You can’t bite back your loud gasp that time, nor do you miss the curl of his smirk against your cunt. He wants people to hear you. Not a surprise. He fingers you in time with how he eats you out, and with how adept he is at your body, it’s no surprise that you climax quickly. If it weren’t for how easily he could hold down your hips with a single finger, you surely would have spasmed right off the table. As it was, he held you easily, burying his face happily in the juices you offered him. He keeps going at the same intensity, only stopping when you give a purposeful tug at his hair. “Please…too much…”

Homelander chuckles and gives a few more teasing curls of his finger inside of you before finally pulling his face away. He grins up at you, still happily kneeling between your legs. The glisten of your slick covering his mouth is not helping you to calm down. 

“Don’t tell me I wore you out already,” Homelander teases as he slowly stands. “We’re just getting started.”

“Oh, no. I’m ready,” You assure him, scooting yourself back on the table as he reaches to undo that ridiculous eagle belt. “Just didn’t want to pass out on you.”

He huffs a laugh as he takes out his cock. You had nearly forgotten how beautiful his cock is; it’s just a different sight in person rather than a shitty video call. He’s just the right length for you on the edge of just too thick, and right now, he is painfully hard. True to form, he doesn’t allow that to stop his banter. “I could’ve still had fun.”

You arch a brow. “Creepy.”

“I’ve done much creepier, sweetheart.” He puts a hand on your stomach and slowly lowers you to lie flat on the table. He tilts his head as he stares down at his fingers against your skin and lets out a shaky sigh. You’re about to ask what he’s staring at before he uses his grip to pull you forward and onto his cock. It’s a rough thrust into you that leaves you gasping on the hardwood, but the pleasure quickly overrides any discomfort. He leans over you, one hand on your hip and the other on your stomach, pulling you on and off his dick. It’s hard, it leaves you feeling like a toy, and it’s shooting you back towards a climax all too quickly. Right around now is typically the time, right when you’re not able to form sentences anymore, that he begins to tease you. He’ll tell you what a slut you are, he’ll slow down his thrusts, he’ll take a break to chat with your husband about some monotonous work shit. Not this time. This time, his eyes remain fixed on your every expression. He looks near awe-stricken as you fight off finishing too quickly.

“Go ahead,” He murmurs. “I’m right behind you. This is just round one, honey. You’re not going anywhere, and neither am I.”

A few more harsh thrusts and you’re a goner. His name is a whisper on your lips at your climax, and that does the trick for him right back. You’re sure that half the buiding can hear the moan he lets out, and he doesn’t give a shit. It’s his building. He comes inside of you, his whole body falling forward until his face nuzzles against the side of your neck. He lightly pants against your sensitive skin. When you are eventually able to come down from your orgasm, you shakily run your fingers through his hair. He’s been using less gel recently after you commented once on hating it. 

“You’re coming back to my place,” He murmurs against your neck.

Your hands slow in their ministrations. “What about Ottawa?”

He gives your neck a little nip. “It can fucking wait. We have a more important situation.”

“We do?”

He lifts off of you. He tucks himself back into his pants and pulls out your phone. You reach out a hand, but he wags a finger at you. Instead of returning it, he calls your husband and puts him on speaker.

“Hey…” Your husband’s voice is tentative. You can only imagine what sort of text Homelander had sent him earlier.

“Hey, buddy! Congratulations,” Homelander says with a laugh. He’s beaming. You watch him with trepidation, not daring to reach for your clothes yet.

Your husband pauses before answering, and you can visualize his confusion. “On…what, Homelander?”

Homelander tuts. “You two would  be lost without me, wouldn’t you?” He turns back to you and meets your eyes. His smile softens to a fond look you have never seen before. His hand returns to your stomach and gives you a pat. “We’re pregnant.”

Your entire body seems to freeze. Your husband says nothing, just as lost as you are.

“We’re what?” You whisper.

Homelander gives you a look as if speaking to a child. “You’re pregnant, whatever. Looks like you’re about a month along.”

His gaze moves down to your stomach again, and you realize he’s looking inside of you. He’s looking at a life forming within you. For a moment, you consider he might be lying. This has to be some sort of cruel trick to manipulate you. But then you really look at the smile on his face, the way he’s staring at your body like it’s a work of art.

No. Homelander is serious. You’re pregnant.

“That’s not possible,” You whisper. “I-I…I’m on birth control.”

He looks back up at your face with a scoff. “Come on, honey. You know that shit isn’t always effective, especially not with us. You think a little pill could stop me?”

He’s certain that it’s his child inside of you. He doesn’t even stop to think about the possibility that it’s your husband’s baby. Your heart starts beating dangerously high, and you sit further up in panic. You think back to your “stomach bug,” how it differed from your husband’s—morning sickness. You think about how Homelander had been looking at you today, as if something was entirely new about you. How did so many signs seem so obvious now?

“Baby, it’s okay,” Your husband says over the phone, and you hear manic rustling through the receiver. “I’m leaving right now-”

“No, you’re not,” Homelander answers curtly. “You’re still sick, and I’m not letting anything like that near my child.”

For once, your husband doesn’t hold back his anger towards Homelander. “I’m not leaving her alone.”

“Oh, don’t be dramatic,” Homelander sighs. “She isn’t alone. She’ll be with me, and you’ll see her soon.”

You’re too confused and exhausted to say anything. Luckily, your husband speaks your thoughts. “Meaning?”

“Meaning the two of you will be moving in with me,” Homelander replies simply. “Vought can pack that cute little townhouse of yours in a day, and you’ll be all settled. I’ll even let the damn cat come. But if it pisses on any of my rugs, it’s out the window.”

He places the phone down on the table and leans down to you. He cups your cheek, his thumb gently brushing over your cheekbone. He lets out a shaky sigh, and then he smiles. “We’re gonna be one happy family.”

[mamawasatesttube]

Between Tim and Kon who makes the first move?

honestly for me it varies! i slightly tend towards it being tim, but not always. but in a very specific way, i.e. it's a very gradual melt right on into a relationship, and tim is the one who goes hey. wait a minute. this feels like A Relationship.

at first, saying it'd be tim is probably surprising, since tim has a history of NOT making the first move across his comics - we don't actually see how he and ari get together, but steph chases after him and repeatedly states her interest in him before they ever get together; tim is the one who asks zoanne out, but only after she kisses him and then runs away. then tam once again is the one to ask him if he's interested in her (and, i mean, if you count lynx ii, she's always the one initiating things getting physical and making out with him, but they also literally never talk about it, so i don't entirely really count her as a serious tim love interest).

on the other hand, while kon of course has been a flirt since he was decanted from his tube, a lot of it was very performative and he's only actually ever been in three relationships, two of which were instances of abuse and grooming. given how introspective he gets after his resurrection, and how much less sure of himself he is in general, i tend to believe this is where he starts actually unpacking all his relationship trauma and internalized homophobia. i think actually accepting that he is gay and not actually interested in women is a very jarring thing for him, and accepting that he was groomed and abused is also very difficult, and it takes him a while.

because of that, i think he ends up a) confused about what romance actually feels like, and b) very tentative about dating for a while. he wants deep connection - he was genuinely in love with knockout, and he thought she loved him too; he thought tana would be part of his life forever, and his devotion to cassie was notable even before they actually dated. but deep connections are hard to make with people you don't know well, and by the time he's around 19-20 i think he's kind of struggling with the idea that he's not gonna get what he's looking for in casual relationships, but also the idea of being in Gay Love with one of his best friends is terrifying, because he's not good at identifying what being in love feels like, so he kinda talks himself out of it. "this is comfortable and easy so it must not be romance, this is just really good friendship, because romance feels like walking a tightrope. right? haha. right??" and all that.

and then moreover, i think tim really sits on the fact that he's bisexual for a long time. not because he's trying to hide it, but because he's just so intensely private about things that bother him, and he's got some jack drake shaped Internalized Issues in his head to work through about what it means to be transmasc and to like men (i.e. a voice that sounds suspiciously like a conservative dad putting in one single ounce of effort re: understanding queer relationships is in the back of his head going "but you'd be the girl in the relationship if you dated a man, right?" and tim has to take several deep breaths and figure out how to unpack that before he's ready to even think about admitting out loud that he's interested in guys too, even to himself, let alone to anyone else).

so for a hot second kon's just out there going "i like men but it doesn't matter because i'm never going to fall in love with someone that really truly wants me and loves me as deeply as i'd love them, and i'd be miserable about that except that i'm just pretty satisfied being bffs with tim :) i feel at ease when he's around and he makes me laugh and i just like being near him and watching him work on gadgets or listening to him ramble about cars or letting him sleep on my shoulder. i know it's not romantic because i feel so safe and comfortable, but i'm happy with it, whatever it is. and if i think he's hot, well, that's just because he is hot. everyone knows that!" guy who pretty much is already tim's boyfriend but he hasn't noticed that yet because they're both kind of stupid and also insanely devoted to each other in the same way, so they both go "yeah this seems normal for us" and kon really doesn't question it that hard.

meanwhile tim is the guy to whom labels and boxes matter a lot more, so he's the one who sits back one day and goes, wait. oh my god. i'm in love with kon. and then he has to steeple his index fingers and interlace the others and press his hands to his face in deep, deep thought. he's in love with kon, and realizing that makes a lot about his life suddenly make a lot of sense, because seriously - a hundred clone attempts, changing robin to be red and black, making out with cassie because he missed kon so much - okay, okay, yeah, he sees it now, okay, so maybe he's been in love with kon for years at this point and never actually realized it, that's fine, this is fine, he's FINE, he's NOT freaking out or overthinking--

anyways. after freaking out and overthinking and brooding on a rooftop for four to seven business days (not all at once, of course, but he gets his hours in), he finally goes to kon and jabs his finger into his chest and goes "Hey. Are we dating?"

and kon stares at him for a second with a loading circle spinning over his head. claps his hand over his mouth. inhales sharply like a dying fish. claps his other hand over the first hand. starts floating a few inches off the ground in pure agitation.

"Oh my god, Tim," he says, his eyes as wide as dinner plates and his voice an octave higher than usual. "Are we dating?!"

"I think so," Tim says, and narrows his eyes. "I mean, if we're not, maybe we should be. Pizza and a movie tonight?"

and kon clearly goes through A Whole Process in his head (working through the "wait, dating is comfy and chill and happy and easy?!" crisis in real time), but ultimately goes "okay!!! yeah!! okay!!! let's do that!!! wow!!!!" because, hey. he would love to hold hands with tim while watching the sunset and eating hipster san francisco pizza.

and that's how they end up sitting on the floor by the coffee table in the titans tower common room, eating pizza, and poring over a calendar + their text message history to try and figure out when, exactly, their anniversary is. ("okay, so when we went on that picnic in april, was that a date?" "i think so. alright, so it has to be before april, but after valentine's, because you made a joke about being single here, see? so we're looking at somewhere in march. "okay, but we did do 'palentine's' together, so does that really count??" "fuck, you're right, that totally was a date too. uh...")

[simplydnp]

totally normal about the 'wedding?' response continuing to evolve even though it's only been 5 shows. at this point i'm convinced the grand plan behind tit is to convince dan via exposure therapy that he's allowed to want to get married