#but like. how can they not. how can you not weep about this regularly. how please teach me

[souenkun]

July recap! 🏖

[vanishintoyou]

just learned there was a (relatively) small earthquake today and Just Yesterday i was telling someone they should visit istanbul soon if they can (bc they told me they never been)

[4unnyr0se]

Could you write about choking kink with Tsukishima??

❥ tsukishima and asphyxiation

warnings: timeskip! tsukishima, fem! reader, asphyxiation (duh), dom! tsukishima, mean! tsukishima, degrading, rough sex, kinda dark content

MDNI | 18+ content

word count -> 937

a/n: i actually hate this but i rlly hope u like it :3

got a request? my asks are open!

Kei Tsukishima was vanilla when you two began to see each other regularly. Well, at least for the first time you had sex. He didn’t know what you liked, so he didn’t want to push your boundaries. He was an asshole, but he wasn’t a violater (at least, not towards you.)

At first, he was slow, tender, and meticulous. “Does this feel good?” “Are you in any pain?” “Can I keep going?” Those phrases constantly fell from his lips the first time you two were intimate, his cock slowly pistoning out of your warmth. Those were some of the rare moments when Tsukishima was soft with you when he was vulnerable. It was your first time together. He didn’t wanna fuck it, no. No one ever wants to fuck up their first time with their new partner. 

He learned what you liked and what you didn’t like relatively quickly, sometimes without you having to say anything at all. Tsukishima would notice how you would shake if he kissed your neck. How you would squeeze your thighs when he called you an idiot (affectionately, of course.) And especially, and possibly his most favorite thing about you, how you let those cute little moans escape your lungs when his long, calloused fingers grazed your neck's soft and delicate flesh. 

It was playful at first, his index finger poking your neck in public just to make you scowl. He briefly observed how your face flushed pink before a frown overtook your soft features, lecturing him about how bullying his girlfriend wasn’t very nice. The second time, the two of you were cuddling in his dorm room. Yamaguchi, his roommate, was visiting his parents for the weekend, so you had the entire room to yourselves. His bandaged hands squeezed your neck as he read his book, smirking as the faintest moan left your lips. 

“Oh? Did I do something you like?” he would tease.

“No! Shut up!” you’d him upside the head. 

Eventually, it got to the point where Tsukishima couldn’t take it anymore. It was almost too painful for him. If you weren’t going to tell him you wanted his hand around your throat, he would do it himself. After all, he was the smarter one out of the two of you.

“Look at you, drooling like a bitch,” Tsukishima smirked, his eyes filled with a dark lust for your submissive state. His hand tightened around your throat as he plunged his cock deeper into your weeping core, the squelching sound ringing in his ears. It was accompanied by your shortened breaths and moans, sounding like the most beautiful melody. “You’re so fucking wet, do you even hear yourself? Those filthy fucking noises you make? Or are you too dumb on my cock to know anything, pretty girl?” 

You opened your mouth to respond, but nothing rolled off your tongue, your words being cut off by a harsh squeeze around your neck. “That was a rhetorical question, obviously.” he rolled his eyes, punctuating his sentence with an unforgiving thrust. “Is your head getting dizzy, hm? I bet it is, you little slut. Who knew my adorable little girlfriend was such a whore for my hands?” his free hand squeezed the fat of your breast, twisting your nipple between his index finger and thumb. “Dumb little bitch, squeezing my cock just because she’s getting choked. Fucking whore.”

His thrusts were cold and calculated, just like he was. He knew exactly how to make you squirm, what pressure points made you cum on the spot. Tsukishima knew your body like the back of his hand, and it made you weak every fucking time. 

“Oh? What’s this?” he purred, his fingers practically cutting off your air supply. “Your slutty little cunt is squeezing around me. I think she wants to cum. Do you think you deserve to cum after hiding what you like from me?”

You frantically nodded your head, your eyelids growing extremely heavy from the lack of oxygen to your brain. “Wanna…cum,” was all you managed to choke out, your eyes wet from the tears swelling in the corner. “P-please.”

Tsukishima scoffed and barely loosened his grip, letting you breathe just a bit. “Fine, I guess that’ll do.” his cock still pounded into you, his balls slapping against your ass. “Fucking cum on this cock, little bitch. Be a good fucking girl for once and do as I say.”

You came with a silent cry, your mouth forming a perfect ‘O’, exactly how Tsukishima liked it. Completely submissive and obedient to him, never bratty. Fuck, your orgasm face was always so beautiful. “Shit, gonna cum. Squeezing me so tight, fucking slut.” his seed spilled into the condom, euphoria crashing over him like a tsunami. 

He removed his hand from your neck, admiring the finger-shaped bruises he left. You’d be wearing turtlenecks for a week, that’s for sure. “Are you alright?” he carefully asked, tossing the spent condom into the wastebasket next to his bed. “I thought you were going to pass out for a second.”

You smiled and nodded, curling up to him. Skin-to-skin was always the best thing when it came to sex with Tsukishima because after he came, he was always so careful with you. He was soft, gentle, and delicate. A complete juxtaposition to how we were in public or with his Sendai Frogs teammates. “I’m fine, Kei, it was really fucking sexy. Maybe let me breathe a little bit next time, though?”

He chuckled and kissed the top of your head, inhaling your scent. “So, I get to choke you again next time?”

“Obviously.”

“I can’t wait.”

copyright © 4unnyr0se 2024 all right reserved

reblogs appreciated <3

[badgers-and-cats]

Theo nott blurbs you say? How about Theo nott being a munch?

Theo Nott is the biggest munch and no one can convince me otherwise<3

18+ MDNI

Masterlist

Dividers by @saradika

Warnings: Smut. MDNI. Oral (F receiving). Theo being a munch. Pet names (“amore mio” my love. “Bambina” babygirl). Alludes to further smut. All characters are written as 20+. Not proof read. AFAB reader with beasts

The sounds of Theo passionately making out with your pussy and your moans fill his dorm room. Theo desperately licks and kisses your aching core, in attempt to taste all of your sweet juices. Every last drop.

Theo Nott was a munch and would eat your pussy like he was starved as often as he could. You question, very regularly, whether the act turns you on more or Theo. The way he desperately grinds his hips into his mattress tells you this brings him as much as it brings you.

“Theo baby-“ is all you can moan out as he explores your pulsing pussy with his tongue; fucking you with the soft muscle as he moves his hips at the same speed. Bringing your hands to his hair, you attempt to push his face further into your heat, his nose occasionally rubbing against your clit; begging for some attention.

“Amore mio,” he groans, “your pussy tastes incredible… I’m addicted… Sono ossessionato da te, piccola,” he kisses your clit before diving back into your dripping hole; your arousal leaking out of you as he laps it up desperately.

You don’t fully understand Italian, only bits and pieces… not like you can fully comprehend anything right now, mind fuzzy and focused on his oral assault on your weeping pussy. As you feel your orgasm approaching; your hips grind against his face, and he groans desperately; his movements becoming more urgent, as he craves the taste of your sweet release as you soak his face.

His hands make their way to your tits; grabbing them as he encourages your orgasm with further simulation. You place your hands over his as your ride your face, until the knot in your stomach snaps and your coming all over his beautiful face as he moans; sending vibrations throughout your entire body as you cum with a loud sob.

He only continues through the orgasm, overstimulating you beautifully as his hips are now grinding into his mattress even faster as he chases his own release. When he’s lapped up every last drop of your cum, he immediately comes up to kiss your lips, his hard cock now thrusting against your sensitive folds.

“Bambina, I can’t wait to fuck your beautiful pussy,” he smirks before sinking into you. Oh how you loved Theodore Nott, your munch.

Translations;

“Amore mio” my love

“Sono ossessionato da te, piccola” I’m obsessed with you, baby

“Bambina” babygirl

[dirtytransmasc]

Davos going to patrol the border like he does every night, only for him to find his enemy wounded in the grass, leaning against the stack of border stones they regularly argued over.

Blackwood crimson spilling through his golden Bracken tunic, coating his fingers, slipping from his lips.

Aeron's eyes would meet his hazily, caught somewhere between fear and acceptance. "C'm h're t'finish the-" he'll pause so he can cough blood all over his tunic, " -job?" he finish, looking through his lashes.

Davos will realize his kin drew blood, in the dead of night. They drew Bracken blood. No.

No they drew His blood. Aeron's blood. His beloved's blood.

And had been too cowardly to finish the job. They had left him here to die, no doubt an omen about touching border stones. His wounds left to weep the colors of house Blackwood, stripping him of his own Houses colors as he bled out.

It was cruel, and now Aeron expected him to continue the torture.... so one could only imagine the shock that cast over the Brackens face when the Blackwood kneeled before him, inspecting the litany of stab wounds in the other's side.

"Who?" he'll mutter under his breath as he presses hands to the wounds, "Do you know who did this? Names?"

The Bracken won't speak, not at first, confused and unable to find his voice past the pain and shock and utter bafflement running through his head. And when he doesn't, Davos will put a hand to his cheek, bringing his chin up so they can see eye to eye. Aeron will find fear in that bright blue gaze. It will scare him.

"Who did this to you, B- Aeron? tell me, please tell me," his voice so much softer than normal, even as fuery broiled deep in his chest, his thumb gently padding Aeron's cheek.

"... didn't..... couldn't see..... th'y w're there 'n then gone."

Davos nod's, but hate the answer nonetheless. Aeron was no help, typical Bracken, but Davos would find them. Davos would make them pay for their cowardess, for laying a hand on his beloved.

For now, he would sink his weight into the other's wound, apologizing gently when the brunette hissed and bit down a scream. If he rested their foreheads together, a whispered, "I'm sorry" falling from his lips, comforting the Bracken beneath him, no, no he didn't.

He doesn't know what to do. His Bracken is hurt. He's bleeding. He's in pain. He's dying.

"It's ok Bracken, easy now, I'm.... I'm going to take you someplace safe... I'm going to take care of you now," and he was wrapping his cloak around the other's middle, pulling it tight until the brunette was whining beneath him, "I said easy, it's alright."

Aeron's eyes were on him. They were afraid, so afraid. His skin was pale and clammy, shining sickly in the moonlight. His soft red whore lips splattered in bright crimson. His hair was hanging in his eyes, soft strands pulling down from his braid. Davos smoothed them away.

"It's ok, it'll be ok," he kissed the Bracken's forehead, "I'm here," he kissed him, like he had always longed to, his lips falling onto Aeron's, attempting to savor how soft and plump they were, but the others lips are too slack, too cool. He tastes blood before he even gets a chance to sink in his teeth and they hesitate to flee when he bites. It's all wrong.

When Aeron huffs against him, attempting to shift his lips to kiss back, Davis will pull back, peck him once more, and then in one fluid motion, pull him up into his arms, shifting to stand.

The kiss will have worked as enough of a distraction to keep him from screaming in the moment, and the myriad of kisses he presses to those soft lips now, swallow up any that escape Aeron's throat.

"Hush now," he whispers, straining ever so slightly under the others weight, "we're going somewhere safe, just trust me."

He doesn't know where they're going, but they're going together. If Ser Aeron Bracken dies tonight, he will die in the arms of Davos Blackwood, and Davos will follow him shortly after. Their bodies will be found in the clearing by the river, curled amongst one another. Their houses will go to war for this, no doubt, but that will be fine. They'll be dead, they won't know better or have any strong feelings about it.

And if Aeron Bracken finds it in himself to pull through, who knows where their fate might lead.

[after-witch]

About illumi’s darling being the opposite of him, just imagine:

illumi: yeah that’s my spouse over there.

Reader: *crying over stepping on a ladybug*

I feel like it'd just make him love them more.

It's... endearing, how soft you can be. Oh, it's stupid, too--dangerous and foolish and no wonder people are as easy to kill as the ladybug you unknowingly stepped on. It needs to be trained out of you, by all rights, if you want to survive in this world. In his world, for that matter.

And yet, and yet... he can't imagine a version of you that doesn't weep over a spider that has to be crushed instead of carefully let out on a windowsill; a version of you that doesn't get tears in their eyes when a character dies in some sweeping fantasy book--

A version of you that doesn't look at him with this strange sense of pity when you learn about the torture training he regularly endured as a child to mold him into the perfect assassin.

You soft, sweet thing. It's bad luck that you ended up with him. For you, at least.

[beddybites]

Can I just say as a Iguro and Muichiro fan that I appreciate you SO MUCH for making content of them because the fandom ignores their relationship despite the manga and anime 💔

OMG OFC... nothing makes me happier i just love those two so much! it does frustrate me sometimes that people will tell me to use giyuu instead of obanai in the fanart i draw of the two; not to be that guy, but canonically, giyuu and muichiro dont care about each other. fanon its cute, but going purely off of canon-- listen, giyuu has tanjiro as his lil bro anyway. muichiro and obanai, with what little screentime they have (esp obanai) are shown to have a good relationship, thus me being so big on the idea they see each other as brothers/family :D

it helps those two are like my top three favorites, but fun little fact;; the reason i started liking obanai so much is because of how kind and gentle and thoughtful he was towards mitsuri and muichiro :,D i thought it was super sweet... i looked more into his character and he quickly became a favorite!

going through the manga and light novels and etc and seeing how obanai and muichiro cared about each other and regularly asked and checked on each other made me weep.. i cant go into too much detail without spoiling the manga, but i just love them so so much!

im so happy ufotable gave them more content!!

[shortkingvince]

Solomon's Lovely Apprentice

Minors DNI

Pt. 2

Solomon wanting to be bred knowing full well it would be impossible to get him pregnant, and the fact he wouldn't even want to actually be pregnant if it WERE possible, but loving the idea of being pounded so hard it defies biology...

Dom!Top!MC x Sub!Bottom!Solomon

Warnings: Solomon has a breeding kink without actually wanting to get pregnant, he just wants to be pounded to death, he wants to be the one to be bred, reader is amab. Pronouns are gender neutral.

No actual sex in this part, just Solomon's imagination running wild. An old man can dream.

Also I wrote this at 3 am with a wrist brace on due to an injury, Obey Me brainrot hit so hard that I defied such weakness /j

This is being posted at 4 am, I am eepy deepy

Solomon: Am I pregnart? /ref (This is not an MPreg fic, I don't do pregnancy fics in general, I just thought it would be silly to write Solomon desperately wanting to be bred until he can't even think)

Yes there will be a part two

NSFW under the cut

Pants filled the air, frustration welling up in the white-haired sorcerer as he desperately palmed at the tent in his pants. This had been happening far more often lately, his fantasies running wild each time he thought about you, his favorite apprentice.

He found himself rushing off to his room regularly now, unable to keep his thoughts of you at bay. He always looked so composed on the outside, but it felt like he had a raging wildfire on the inside. One that only you could quell.

He had been dropping hints here and there. Some were less obvious, with others being so obvious that he knows there's no way you aren't playing dumb on purpose. He had been doing everything he could to rile you up and get you to just take him then and there, but each attempt ended in failure.

His mind drifted away from his frustrations for a moment, fantasizing about the things he wanted you to do to him. He thought about you finally, finally bending him over and practically ripping his clothes off, giving him barely any time to use a spell to sound proof his room and lock the door.

His cock only continued to protest against the confines of his clothing. In one quick move he all but ripped his pants and boxers off, just how you did in his fantasy but without the damage to his clothes. He thought about how you'd waste no time in touching him, exploring his body and the markings he had from all the pacts he was in.

You'd trace each one, teasing him as your faint touches only fueled the blood rushing to his weeping cock. You'd trace your hand around his thighs, going so close to where he wanted you before you pulled back, staring down at him like he was some piece of prey.

He could barely control his breathing as fantasy you went back again and squeezed one of his thighs, making him let out a shaky breath. He finally let his hand start to travel towards his cock, imagining it was yours instead. Fuck, he needed you. The demon brothers were always dragging you away, giving him little time to have you for even a day.

The frustration that was building up at that thought vanished as soon as he touched his cock, making him let out a small gasp of surprise, as if it wasn't his own hand touching him. His eyes were squeezed closed as he continued to imagine you, your strokes were slow and teasing, circling the head of his cock every so often. It felt like you were trying to drive the poor man mad.

He suppressed a shiver as "you" suddenly circled a finger around his rim, hearing "you" mutter a spell that lubricated your fingers as you teased the outside of his entrance. Normally he'd be embarrassed by the moan he let out as his finger breached his hole in reality, but he couldn't care less since all he could focus on was you in his imagination. He gave himself a moment to adjust before he started to move the finger inside of him, and he couldn't stop himself from imagining how you'd look at him as you fingered him. How you'd mock and tease him for getting so worked up over one finger. Or maybe you'd coo at him, telling him how pretty he looks under you. Either one was driving him wild as he slipped a second finger inside of himself.

He started off slow at first, using his fingers to drag along his insides in a way that made him shiver. It wasn't long before his patience ran thin though, quickly ramming his fingers inside and out of him as he moaned your name into his empty room, the wet squelching causing his face to heat up in embarrassment at how he was acting, but he just couldn't stop himself. He used his other hand to tug at his cock, stroking himself fast as he got closer to his release.

It wasn't enough, it just wasn't enough. He needed your cock so badly. He needed to be bred by you even though he knew it was physically impossible for him to get pregnant. Hell, he didn't even WANT to get pregnant if he could, but the thought of you fucking him so hard and deep that it defied the literal laws of nature turned him on so badly that it hurt. He needed your cum deep inside him, pounding your seed from previous rounds even deeper into him until he couldn't even think properly.

He couldn't stop himself from letting out a deep moan as he finally came all over his shirt, having forgotten to remove it earlier in his frantic state. Once he finally snapped back to reality and gently pulled his fingers out of him, he couldn't help but cringe at the feeling of his cum seeping through his shirt. That only made him think about what you'd say if you saw him so desperate like this though, frustration welling up again as he felt himself rub his thighs together.

Fuck.

He used a spell to clean his hands quickly as he grabbed his DDD, searching for your name as he finally sent you a message.

monSOLO: "Please, I need you so badly, just come over and fuck me already."

monSOLO: "I know you've seen my hints. I've seen how you look at me when I've given you them. Come over. Please."

monSOLO: "I know you're reading my messages right now. Fuck...come over. Please."

He was almost ready to give up and accept defeat until he suddenly saw the three moving dots signifying you were typing. He gripped his phone as if it would slip from his hands any moment. His cock slowly started to twitch back to life as he read your message.

MC: "I'm coming over right now. I hope you aren't planning on using your legs too much tomorrow, I'm not letting you go until I've drained every last drop I have into you."

Fuck. You truly were going to drive him mad, in the best way he could ever ask for from his lovely apprentice.

[lostintransist]

Mx. Misses

GN!Reader X Johnny "Soap" MacTavish and missing someone when you have ADHD.

Roughly 600 words of me just trying to process emotions.

“Do you miss me when I’m gone?”

Johnny is sitting on the counter behind you, kicking his feet out and back but stopping before they slam into the cabinets.

“No.”

You are deeply focused on not letting the custard in your pan cook the eggs wrong. Custard had been the one thing Johnny had requested when he touched down from his last job. This was your third attempt.

The silence behind you should have cued you in. You let out a sigh, finally seeing something that matched the pictures you had stared at obsessively. Tipping the custard into the special glasses you had found at the thrift store you fill the pan with water and put the treat into the fridge to chill.

Seeing Johnny’s work face in place pulls the smile from your face.

“What?”

“You donne miss me when I’m gone?” You had said something wrong, his accent only got this thick when he fought down his emotions.

Tucking your hands in your pockets you rock back on your heels.

“I don’t miss anyone really Johnny. My version of ADHD makes it so I don’t remember to think about anyone until they are back.”

Sliding from the counter Johnny folds his arms tight across his chest.

“Explain that.”

You hold your breath while you think. How do you even go about explaining this to him?

“I don’t miss you when you’re gone. I miss you when you’re here.” You look up at him, hopeful that made sense. It didn’t.

“But I’m here.” Confusion tugs at his face, highlighting his scar.

Blowing out a breath and rubbing your hand across your mouth you think of a different way to say it.

“Yes, you are here. And I cry that you have been gone the first shower I take alone after you come home. I miss you in the moment between breaths when you are on jobs, but I don’t live in those moments. They collect like rainwater in a barrel until I can hold you, touch you, and then the walls give and I experience all of the missing you all at once.”

He is staring at you now, brows drawn together. You keep talking, desperate to avoid a fight, to make him understand.

“The only reason I talk to my dad regularly is that he calls me every other week. I can go months without remembering that I have a sister until I see something that reminds me of her and then I want nothing more than to talk to her.”

His face smooths out. Still he watches. Does he hate you now, your last boyfriend did when you explained.

“You hide your tears from me?”

Letting out a sob of a laugh you rub at the emotions collecting in your throat.

“I guess?”

Johnny moves now, hands cradling your face.

“Let me have them. When ye weep for me, let me have them. I thought you didn’t care. That you didn’t love me enough to cry when I am gone.”

“Nothing could be further from the truth!” You hold Johnny’s hands to your face. “I miss you; it just comes out at weird times. I didn’t cry after my grandmother died until my birthday card from her never arrived. My brain is weird about grief, about joy, about well everything really.” Shrugging you try and play off the stilting air that surrounds you.

“Donne hide it from me, please,” his whisper softens as he lowers his lips to yours.

“I won’t,” you press into the kiss. The fear of confrontation melting away with the gentle brush of his hands on your face and fingers drifting into your hair.

Masterlist

[cuckoo-on-a-string]

Regularly scheduled programming to resume shortly, but your bird needs to vent, so scream with me or scroll on by to preserve your spoons. Politics/ethics/frustrations with the (conservative/Puritan Christian) culture in which I was raised below the adorable frogs.

*Plus basic ways to start spotting systemic oppression.

I genuinely do not understand how groups with quantifiable, measurable advantages over minority groups can rework the world to imagine themselves as the ultimate victims in every. single. circumstance.

I've shared too much of my personal history in the past, and I won't be repeating that mistake, so instead of a narrative, here's my practical way to approach questions of privilege and oppression.

It's all about asking the right questions.

First off: who is most at risk in a physical sense? What demographics are most likely to face murder, beatings, or sexual assault while doing day-to-day activities?

From there, other questions come naturally. Who holds positions of political, financial, and religious power? If it's noteworthy that someone of a particularly race/gender/orientation/class/etc. is a CEO/senator/head of an organization, then that reveals the "norm" (by placing that demographic outside of that "norm"). From this, you can extrapolate data about income disparities, access and quality of healthcare, life expectancy, employment opportunities, etc.

Finally, when there is a verified, demonstrable injustice, how do those in positions of power respond? A good example of this concept is the difference between police interest/investment in missing, middle-to-upper-class white girls not associated with sex work vs. literally any other demographic of females.

But SOMEHOW those most likely to hold a position of power, enjoy a secure job, own property, and face a relatively low risk of violence while simply living their lives weep about being martyrs at the drop of a hat.

Always check your privilege to make sure you aren't stepping on someone else's throat. It doesn't fucking matter how "nice" you are. If you were born a certain race/class/gender, you've probably been told the choking sounds coming from underfoot are normal.

[sparklecryptid]

A Reveal because the Lucis Caelums had a magical family tree made up once and somebody finally found the thing after it was lost in the archives for a few centuries.

Regis is not even the only person with bastards, he's just the most recent one and it's not even the biggest scandal.

(That would be the confirmation that the children of that one LC queen couple of hundreds years ago were most definitely not sired by her husband, which honestly, everyone expected already because the man was so gay and not even pretending otherwise.)

Noctis stares at the magic family tree.

He stares at it. Ignis stares at it.

The two of them exchange looks.

"Well," Noctis says eventually, "Do you think I can toss the crown at one of my siblings-"

Ignis gives him a look that would make lesser men weep.

"I'm not sure they would appreciate that."

-

After that Noctis takes the family tree and with Prompto's help carefully looks up the names of his siblings.

One of them lives in Lestallum and works as a scientist at the power plant, Thanatos seems to be a cheerful man with red eyes and that makes Noctis wonder WHY no one has connected him to their father earlier.

The next is Ardor, who has a Kwetter account that is only used to post blurry shots of beasts and daemons that Ardor was hunting and to response to his other siblings.

Which is how Noctis finds out that all his half-siblings know about each other and regularly interact through the internet.

It makes him feel a bit lonely to be honest. He understands their desire to not want to come forward but-

Well.

He's always wanted a bigger family.

The next person Noctis and Prompto find is a man named Ace who is Hunter and sometimes appears in Ardor's photos. He's Galahdian, obvious by the beads in his hair, and Noctis and Prompto share a look when they realize that Ace is married to an active member of the Kingsglaive.

Persephone is next, she's a priestess with a warm smile that Noctis thinks is somehow comforting and threatening at the same time. She is also married to an active member of the Kingsglaive and routinely shows up on her siblings feed asking them to 'please reconsider what they are about to do'.

Jules works in a book store. She has mousy brown hair and bright blue eyes hidden behind thick frames. She looks like someone Ignis would get along with.

Bard is - okay, Noctis has known who Bard is for a while know, her videos go viral whenever she posts her street performances and Noctis knows that Ignis and Gladio are fans. He wonders if he can get them an autograph.

Jupiter is the sister of an active member of the Kingsglaive and Noctis begins to wonder if they're training them so poorly they can't recognize members of the loyal family.

There is nothing on Mercury's page but cat photos that she tags her siblings in with 'this you?' the latest of which is a wet cat staring at the camera that Mercury tagged Ardor in.

Noctis is a little hurt that they all know each other and yet never bothered to come forward.

If he posts a video of the magically glowing family tree on his Official Account and tags all his siblings in it with 'this u?' well-

Noctis deserves to blow up the internet once and while.

As a treat.

(The existence of the siblings gets quickly brushed aside when the family tree - upon study by various historians - confirms that the children of The Star were not sired by her husbands.

Thanatos immediately posts a joke about 'horny running in the family'.)

[avengerarcher]

Arthur Nightingale // Quote Starters 1

 "Feels like there's someone in my head..."

"If anyone can pull this team together, it's you. And if there's anything I can do, you know where I am."

"Hand-delivery only. That's you."

"Great work on the threat assessment."

"Situation isn't ideal but confidence is high. I'll take it."

"We're making a difference. That's a rare feeling in this line of work."

"We're saving lives here. No matter how rough it gets, remember that."

"Hey, no drinking contests with the newcomers. I don't care how patriotic anyone's feeling."

 "Yes, the bar is open. Don't make me regret it."

"If [name] can keep the beer cold, [pronoun] can keep a morgue running. Tell [pronoun] I said so."

"Uh, put me down as a 'maybe' for open mic night. [name] knows why."

 "if you, uh, create a portal, um... close it again afterwards."

"It's amazing how wrong he could be, my dad."

"There are more of us, aren't there? Others."

"I can't look at mythology like I used to. Now I know what [name] did to history. Dragons, golems, gorgons... makes you wonder, doesn't it?"

"Libertatians! Always got to be the loudest in the room. But when the shit goes down, you know they've got your back."

"Why dost thou sit upon my grave and will dead lips to speak? Why dost thou weep upon my grave and will not let me sleep?"

"Hop on text for a second."

"With your help we're turning things around. This is for you."

"I admit, when you first came to us I had... reservations. In hindsight that was folly."

"Oh, and be careful out there, yeah? Don't want to lose you."

"Right. I'll forget you brought it up then."

"Okay." (pause) "Huh, I won't lie... I... I feel like complete shit right now. You best not talk to me for a little bit."

"Yeah... Figures. I'm your disposable doting dipshit once again. Why did I think it would be any different this time."

"With all my love and respect this is not something you joke about. Please, don't jerk me around."

"Be careful out there. If you got killed I'd never forgive you."

"Oh, and if you happen to come across a bottle anywhere? I'm cooking."

"You will tell me if the stubble gets too much, won't you? Don't want you to feel like a tramp's moved in."

"Look at you, prowling around your lair. Like you're protecting what's yours."

"You are giving me quite an appetite, looking like that."

"Should I get a little pinnie on and do some dusting? Would you like that? I could be persuaded."

"What we do... is up to us. I could cook us a meal. We could even get drunk!"

"I've missed feeling safe enough to let my guard down."

"The only thing this place is missing is a nice big open fireplace. Oh, and a rug. Something furry, for wrestling on."

 "I'm not worrying. Honestly. But sometimes I think... what if, one day, you just punch the floor again and all this goes away? Like a dream that I don't even get to remember?"

"We should climb up on the roof. Look at the stars together. Feed the pigeons. Sweep for snipers."

"I'm not saying it's on the cards, I'm not saying it's even going to happen, but: if Quincy gave me a tattoo, would you laugh?"

"Little reminder. Your weapons need to be stripped down and cleaned regularly. Including me. Do we need to make this a disciplinary matter?"

"I could still taste you on my lips this morning. Buggered up my concentration completely. You are a liability, you are."

"Have you been working out? Fancy a quick arm-wrestle? Any bruises, I'll say I got them "in action.""

"Hold it. Quiet. Listen. (small pause) All clear. Sorry, I'm twitchy. Old habits."

 "Just be glad I'm not taking you home to meet my parents. One warzone is enough."

"I can't believe you've got a frigging spaceship and you're slumming it, here, with me."

"Pick me up a black bow tie if you ever find one, okay? I'd look sharp in a black bow tie."

"Hand on heart, I didn't think we'd make it through the year. Too many ways for it all to fall apart."

"My sister thinks the world of you, you know. And where you're concerned, I actually care what she thinks."

"I don't have to watch over [pronoun] 24/7, do I?"

"Sorry. I was just thinking about how I had to watch all of them die, one by one. My head knows that didn't happen. But I can still feel the despair down in my guts."

"You don't take nearly enough time for yourself. The world will not break if your set it down from your shoulders once in a while. Took me long enough to learn that."

"Just thinking, I'd make a shit father, but a really great uncle. The sort who takes you to the woods to blow things up."

"Caught myself daydreaming about the big country house with the enormous garage." 

"Just how 'glad' are you, hm? Do I get to send you on your next mission looking all disheveled and breathless?"

"I'm so bloody glad we talk as much as we do. I bottled too much stuff up for too long."

"You've given me a reason to be scared of dying, and that much more to live for."

"Yeah. If I was someone else I'd be so jealous of me right now."

"I remember thinking: "I could die happy right now. But please, not yet."."

"In that moment, with fireworks in the sky and hope in the air at last, I felt reborn."

"My keys better not be in that mess."

"Did you take my damn keys?"

"That... was VERY rude."

"But you try any of those head games again and there won't be much left for [name] to stitch back up. You read me?"

 "Cut the chatter. 19 hours til we're popping corks, or vaporized."

"So. Wherever they're hiding out, it's above ground. That's a mercy."

"-North's your best bet. Mountains might be a chance against the fallout."

"The only thing wounded is my dignity."

"Don't fuss. You're like my maiden aunt."

"There'll be tears before bedtime."

"We appear to have angered the locals."

 "If you wouldn't mind, pick us up a coffee while you're out."

"I could murder a brew."

"Slip me on like a body bag, why don't you?"

"Remember, if we get hurt, I feel it."

"6Ps. Prior planning prevents piss-poor performance. You ready?"

"Let's mop up these dipsticks and get home."

You have to admit, this is an improvement."

"Well, what kind of hellscape adventure are we on today?"

"Calling on me? Must be serious."

"I need a cup of tea and a lie down."

"Normal people go on dates."

"I don't think they know what they're up against, do they, babe?"

 "You don't mind a bit of stubble, do you?"

"My body is in your hands."

"Just remember, when we're like this, you feel what I feel."

"I have to admit, this is weirdly romantic."

"Us against the universe? They don't stand a chance."

 "One day. No more roadblocks and checkpoints. Just you and me and the bikes, open road for miles, all this bullshit far away. I swear to Sol."

"Bottled water. Like sodding gold dust."

[nalyra-dreaming]

"... And of course there are some really juicy parts in "The Tale of the Body Thief" that Jacob commented on wanting to do with Sam :) ..."

For people who haven't read books and only watch the series. Can you please tell me what this means? And what was Jacob talking about?

Sure :) "The tale of the Body Thief" deals with Lestat spiraling and deep in depression (which leads to a suicide attempt that fails because he is simply too powerful for the sun to kill him anymore), and being presented a way out, namely a (supposedly temporary) body-switch. Which… everyone warns him not to do, of course, and which he actually does, of course.

:)

Louis and Lestat are… in a weird relationship at that point. They cannot live with each other, but not without each other, and so they live separately, but visit the other regularly. Their own chairs in the other's house, literal "Netflix-and-chill" routines, and so on. They see each other often. Louis of course warns Lestat not do that switch.

(sorry, couldn't indent or quote this, the post wouldn't save, lol)

__________________

"You're out of your mind," Louis said. "Don't be so hasty," I answered.

"You quote this idiot's words to me? Destroy him. Put an end to him. Find him tonight if you can and do away with him." "Louis, for the love of heaven . . ."

"Lestat, this creature can find you at will? That means he knows where you lie. You've led him here now. He knows where I lie. He's the worst conceivable enemy! Mon Dieu, why do you go looking for adversity? Nothing on earth can destroy you now, not even the Children of the Millennia have the combined strength to do it, and not even the sun at midday in the Gobi Desert-so you court the one enemy who has power over you. A mortal man who can walk in the light of day. A man who can achieve complete dominion over you when you yourself are without a spark of consciousness or will. No, destroy him. He's far too dangerous. If I see him, I'll destroy him."

"Louis, this man can give me a human body. Have you listened to anything that I've said."

"Human body! Lestat, you can't become human by simply taking over a human body! You weren't human when you were alive! You were born a monster, and you know it. How the hell can you delude yourself like this."

"I'm going to weep if you don't stop."

"Weep. I'd like to see you weep. I've read a great deal about your weeping in the pages of your books but I've never seen you weep with my own eyes."

"Ah, that makes you out to be a perfect liar," I said furiously. "You described my weeping in your miserable memoir in a scene which we both know did not take place!"

"Lestat, kill this creature! You're mad if you let him come close enough to you to speak three words."

__________________

(This also refers to the contested NOLA meeting right here.) Jacob called their … bickering "petty and in love". They're both not ready yet at that point.

Of course Lestat ignores the warnings and actually does the body switch, and as could be imagined the person takes off with Lestat's immortal body.

Lestat get's sick (as a mortal), and then goes to Louis to ask to be turned, so he can hunt down the thief, which then leads to one of the most raw exchanges (and iirc that power switch is what Jacob would really love to do), because Louis rejects him, though he is mightily tempted.

__________________

"I bare my soul to you and you use it against me!" "Oh, I do not, Lestat. I seek to make you look into it. You are begging me to drive you back to Gretchen. Am I perhaps the only guardian angel? Am I the only one who can confirm this fate?" "You miserable bastard son of a bitch! If you don't give me the blood . . ."

'He turned around, his face like that of a ghost, eyes wide and hideously unnatural in their beauty. "I will not do it. Not now, not tomorrow, not ever. Go back to her, Lestat. Live this mortal life." "How dare you make this choice for me!" I was on my feet again, and finished with whining and begging. "Don't come at me again," he said patiently. "If you do, I shall hurt you. And that I don't wish to do."

"Ah, you've killed me! That's what you've done. You think I believe all your lies! You've condemned me to this rotting, Stinking, aching body, that's what you've done! You think I don't know the depth of hatred in you, the true face of retribution when I see it! For the love of God, speak the truth."

"It isn't the truth. I love you. But you are blind with impatience now, and overwrought with simple aches and pains. It is you who will never forgive me if I rob you of this destiny. Only it will take time for you to see the true meaning of what I've done."

"No, no, please." I came towards him, only this time not in anger. I approached slowly, until I could lay my hands on his shoulders and smell the faint fragrance of dust and the grave that clung to his clothes. Lord God, what was our skin that it drew the light to itself so exquisitely? And our eyes. Ah, to look into his eyes.

"Louis," I said. "I want you to take me. Please, do as I ask you. Leave the interpretations of all my tales to me. Take me, Louis, look at me." I snatched up his cold, lifeless hand and laid it on my face. "Feel the blood in me, feel the heat. You want me, Louis, you know you do. You want me, you want me in your power the way I had you in my power so long, long ago. I'll be your fledgling, your child, Louis. Please, do this. Don't make me beg you on my knees."

I could sense the change in him, the sudden predatory glaze that covered his eyes. But what was stronger than his thirst? His will.

"No, Lestat," he whispered. "I can't do it. Even if I'm wrong and you are right, and all your metaphors are meaningless, I can't do it." I took him in my arms, oh, so cold, so unyielding, this monster which I had made out of human flesh. I pressed my lips against his cheek, shuddering as I did so, my fingers sliding around his neck. He didn't move away from me. He couldn't bring himself to do it. I felt the slow silent heave of his chest against mine.

"Do it to me, please, beautiful one," I whispered in his ear. "Take this heat into your veins, and give me back all the power that I once gave to you." I pressed my lips to his cold, colorless mouth. "Give me the future, Louis. Give me eternity. Take me off this cross."

In the corner of my eye, I saw his hand rise. Then I felt the satin fingers against my cheek. I felt him stroke my neck. "I can't do it, Lestat."

"You can, you know you can," I whispered, kissing his ear as I spoke to him, choking back the tears, my left arm slipping around his waist. "Oh, don't leave me here in this misery, don't do it."

"Don't beg me anymore," he said sorrowfully. "It's useless. I'm going now. You won't see me again."

"Louis!" I held fast to him. "You can't refuse me." "Ah, but I can and I have."

_________________

…. Lestat burns down Louis' little hut after the refusal in a fit of disappointment and anger after. (Not before saving the paintings in it though coughs)

When Lestat finally gets his body back he meets Louis again in NOLA, in a church. Lestat is bitter, and jaded, Louis is just so relieved to see him.

__________________

We sat there in silence for many long moments, and then he spoke. "You burnt my little house, didn't you?" he asked in a small, vibrant voice.

"Can you blame me?" I asked with a smile, eyes still on the altar. "Besides, I was a human when I did that. It was human weakness. Want to come and live with me?"

"This means you've forgiven me?"

"No, it means I'm playing with you. I may even destroy you for what you did to me. I haven't made up my mind. Aren't you afraid?" "No. If you meant to do away with me, it would already be done."

"Don't be so certain. I'm not myself, and yet I am, and then I am not again."

Long silence, with only the sounds of Mojo breathing hoarsely and deeply in his sleep.

"I'm glad to see you," he said. "I knew you would win. But I didn't know how."

I didn't answer. But I was suddenly boiling inside. Why were both my virtues and my faults used against me? But what was the use of it-to make accusations, to grab him and shake him and demand answers from him? Maybe it was better not to know.

"Tell me what happened," he said.

"I will not," I replied. "Why in the world do you want to know?" Our hushed voices echoed softly in the nave of the church. The wavering light of the candles played upon the gilt on the tops of the columns, on the faces of the distant statues. Oh, I liked it here in this silence and coolness. And in my heart of hearts I had to admit I was so very glad that he had come. Sometimes hate and love serve exactly the same purpose.

I turned and looked at him. He was facing me, one knee drawn up on the pew and his arm resting on the back of it. He was pale as always, an artful glimmer in the dark.

"You were right about the whole experiment," I said. At least my voice was steady, I thought.

"How so?" No meanness in his tone, no challenge, only the subtle desire to know. And what a comfort it was-the sight of his face, and the faint dusty scent of his worn garments, and the breath of fresh rain still clinging to his dark hair.

"What you told me, my dear old friend and lover," I said. "That I didn't really want to be human. That it was a dream, and a dream built upon falsehood and fatuous illusion and pride."

"I can't claim that I understood it," he said. "I don't understand it now."

"Oh, yes, you did. You understand very well. You always have. Maybe you lived long enough; maybe you have always been the stronger one. But you knew. I didn't want the weakness; I didn't want the limitations; I didn't want the revolting needs and the endless vulnerability; I didn't want the drenching sweat or the searing cold. I didn't want the blinding darkness, or the noises that walled up my hearing, or the quick, frantic culmination of erotic passion; I didn't want the trivia; I didn't want the ugliness. I didn't want the isolation; I didn't want the constant fatigue."

"You explained this to me before. There must have been something . . . however small. . . that was good!" "What do you think?" "The light of the sun."

"Precisely. The light of the sun on snow; the light of the sun on water; the light of the sun… on one's hands and one's face, and opening up all the secret folds of the entire world as if it were a flower, as if we were all part of one great sighing organism. The light of the sun … on snow."

I stopped. I really didn't want to tell him. I felt I had betrayed myself.

"There were other things," I said. "Oh, there were many things. Only a fool would not have seen them. Some night, perhaps, when we're warm and comfortable together again as if this never happened, I'll tell you."

"But they were not enough." "Not for me. Not now."

Silence.

"Maybe that was the best part," I said, "the discovery. And that I no longer entertain a deception. That I know now I truly love being the little devil that I am."

I turned and gave him my prettiest, most malignant smile. He was far too wise to fall for it. He gave a long near-silent sigh, his lids lowered for a moment, and then he looked at me again. "Only you could have gone there," he said. "And come back."

I wanted to say this wasn't true. But who else would have been fool enough to trust the Body Thief? Who else would have plunged into the venture with such sheer recklessness? And as I thought this over, I realized what ought to have been plain to me already. That I'd known the risk I was taking. I'd seen it as the price. The fiend told me he was a liar; he told me he was a cheat. But I had done it because there was simply no other way.

Of course this wasn't really what Louis meant by his words; but in a way it was. It was the deeper truth. "Have you suffered in my absence?" I asked, looking back at the altar. Very soberly he answered, "It was pure hell." I didn't reply.

"Each risk you take hurts me," he said. "But that is my concern and my fault." "Why do you love me?" I asked. "You know, you've always known. I wish I could be you. I wish I could know the joy you know all the time." "And the pain, you want that as well?" "Your pain?" He smiled. "Certainly. I'll take your brand of pain anytime, as they say."

"You smug, cynical lying bastard," I whispered, the anger cresting in me suddenly, the blood even rushing into my face. "I needed you and you turned me away! Out in the mortal night you locked me. You refused me. You turned your back!"

The heat in my voice startled him. It startled me. But it was there and I couldn't deny it, and once again my hands were trembling, these hands that had leapt out and away from me at the false David, even when all the other lethal power in me was kept in check.

He didn't utter a word. His face registered those small changes which shock produces-the slight quiver of an eyelid, the mouth lengthening and then softening, a subtle clabbering look, vanishing as quickly as it appeared. He held my accusing glance all through it, and then slowly looked away.

"It was David Talbot, your mortal friend, who helped you, wasn't it?" he asked. I nodded.

But at the mere mention of the name, it was as if all my nerves had been touched by the tip of a heated bit of wire. There was enough suffering here as it was. I couldn't speak anymore of David. I wouldn't speak of Gretchen. And I suddenly realized that what I wanted to do most in the world was to turn to him and put my arms around him and weep on his shoulder as I'd never done. How shameful. How predictable! How insipid. And how sweet. I didn't do it.

We sat there in silence. The soft cacophony of the city rose and fell beyond the stained-glass windows, which caught the faint glow from the street lamps outside. The rain had come again, the gentle warm rain of New Orleans, in which one can walk so easily as if it were nothing but the gentlest mist.

"I want you to forgive me," he said. "I want you to understand that it wasn't cowardice; it wasn't weakness. What I said to you at the time was the truth. I couldn't do it. I can't bring someone into this! Not even if that someone is a mortal man with you inside him. I simply could not."

"I know all that," I said.

I tried to leave it there. But I couldn't. My temper wouldn't cool, my wondrous temper, the temper which had caused me to smash David Talbot's head into a plaster wall.

He spoke again. "I deserve whatever you have to say."

"Ah, more than that!" I said. "But this is what I want to know." I turned and faced him, speaking through my clenched teeth. "Would you have refused me forever? If they'd destroyed my body, the others-Marius, whoever knew of it-if I'd been trapped in that mortal form, if I'd come to you over and over and over again, begging you and pleading with you, would you have shut me out forever! Would you have held fast?"

"I don't know."

"Don't answer so quickly. Look for the truth inside yourself. You do know. Use your filthy imagination. You do know. Would you have turned me away?"

"I don't know the answer!"

"I despise you!" I said in a bitter, harsh whisper. "I ought to destroy you-finish what I started when I made you. Turn you into ashes and sift them through my hands. You know that I could do it! Like that! Like the snap of mortal fingers, I could do it. Burn you as I burnt your little house. And nothing could save you, nothing at all."

I glared at him, at the sharp graceful angles of his imperturbable face, faintly phosphorescent against the deeper shadows of the church. How beautiful the shape of his wide-set eyes, with their fine rich black lashes. How perfect the tender indentation of his upper lip.

The anger was acid inside me, destroying the very veins through which it flowed, and burning away the preternatural blood. Yet I couldn't hurt him. I couldn't even conceive of carrying out such awful, cowardly threats. I could never have brought harm to Claudia. Ah, to make something out of nothing, yes. To throw up the pieces to see how they will fall, yes. But vengeance. Ah, arid awful distasteful vengeance. What is it to me?

"Think on it," he whispered. "Could you make another, after all that's passed?" Gently he pushed it further. "Could you work the Dark Trick again? Ah-you take your time before answering. Look deep inside you for the truth as you just told me to do. And when you know it, you needn't tell it to me."

Then he leant forward, closing the distance between us, and pressed his smooth silken lips against the side of my face. I meant to pull away, but he used all his strength to hold me still, and I allowed it, this cold, passionless kiss, and he was the one who finally drew back like a collection of shadows collapsing into one another, with only his hand still on my shoulder, as I sat with my eyes on the altar still.

Finally I rose slowly, stepping past him, and motioned for Mojo to wake and come.

__________________

It's all… very emotional and very raw.

The power dynamics are inverted. There is history between them. Petty and helpless love, too. Desire, passion, anger, love, hate, you name it.

Just thinking about Sam and Jacob doing this gives me the shivers.

(As a side note, we have "artful glimmer in the dark" here as a description for Louis, calling back to "spark in the dark".)

Louis moves in with Lestat (and David) once more after this, into the renovated Rue Royale.

It's where he lives until the events after Merrick, after which they abandon Rue Royale, and Louis goes to Armand to New York for a while until the court is created in the Auvergne.

[sehtoast]

Caught (Homelander x OC Smut)

18+ | 4k words | masturbation, underwear sniffing, getting caught, mirrorlander, mirrorlander vs homelander, slight dubcon, dirty talk, fingering, pussy eating, p in v sex, premature ejaculation, spidersona oc | Fic Directory

He takes a deep breath, holds it, savors it, then releases it slowly.  

Delicious.

He’s been snooping again.  Well, it’s not like he ever stopped and, really, it’s not like he could even if he wanted to– which he doesn’t.  Benjamin’s room is rife with all sorts of little odds and ends that help satiate that desire to know more about the web-head.  Papers, books, trinkets, hobbies, clothes…

Especially the clothes.

He’s been in here before with Benjamin. Had to act like he didn’t already know the layout so intimately.  Like he hasn’t been breaking in regularly and browsing to his heart’s content.  Like he hasn’t been doing this.

He takes another deep breath.

Like he hasn’t been huffing Benjamin’s dirty laundry.

He holds it tight, letting his eyes flutter shut.

But not just any dirty laundry.  Clenched in his bare fist is a pair of black boxer briefs, wrinkled from sitting in the hamper.  He presses the crotch of them to his nose and inhales over and over again, memorizing the scent, the taste of his little spider.

He’s leaned back, half sat on the foot of the bed as he indulges with a hand around his weeping cock. He strokes himself slow, taking his time.  He imagines what he’d do with his face buried in Ben’s cunt, imagines the taste, the scent, the heat.  His tongue laves over the fabric and he moans brokenly.

Oh, he’s wanted this for some time now… Watching the bug, following him around. Basking in their shared moments. He imagines how easy it would be, too.  Just one kiss, hot and needy, would convey all he needs. What would it be like to have Ben’s hand in place of his own?  Those soft digits wrapped around his cock, pumping slowly and working him into deep breaths and needy moans– how would they feel?  Ben would whisper in his ear, sing his praises, tell him how good he is.  He fucking knows it.  Johnny, he’d say, why don’t you let go for me?

Oh, and he would.  He’d spill so quickly it’d be downright humiliating.

His mind clouds with so many fantasies that he can hardly pick one to be his undoing.  Ben’s lips around his cock, his pussy stretched deep, fucked within an inch of his life.  All the while, Homelander moans unabashedly into the fabric.

It’s so good, so fucking good–

“Johnny…”

That’s right, say my name! C’’mon, say it!  Say my fucking name!

He starts to fuck carelessly into his grip, fist pressing the fabric harder against his face.

Oh fuck, fuck yeah– little whore, mine, all mine…

And it feels so good, he can’t–

“Johnny?”

A raspy hum rattles from his chest, pinching off in a tight little moan as he spills his load, fucking his fist with languid rolls of his hips.

“Mm, fuck, Ben… God…”  He groans against the fabric.  He stands there in perfect bliss, eyes shut, warm and relaxed as he comes down from his high.  When he does finally open them again, he navigates the process of wiping his hand on his pants and getting himself zipped up.  He’s still dazed but, when he glances back up, he’s shocked clear into coherency and halts putting himself back together entirely. 

Wide eyes meet in stunned silence.

In the doorway stands Benjamin, jaw practically on the floor, gaze flitting from Homelander’s face to the underwear gripped tight in his left hand, then down to his cock.  The bug’s face burns a deep crimson as he connects the dots, but his eyes continue darting up and down. 

Homelander doesn’t know what to say, doesn't know what to do. He should’ve never let his guard down to indulge like this; he should’ve kept his eyes and ears open for Benjamin.  He fucked up.  He fucked up bad.  He’s probably single handedly ruined his relationship with not only the best friend he’s ever had, but with the man he’s developed more than just simple lust for.

“I–”  He tries, but his voice comes out strained.  “Uhm…”  He looks down, shame burning deep in his gut under Ben’s shocked gaze. 

“Wow…” Is all Benjamin says in response.  It scares Homelander to bits, not being able to read his tone.

And he just stands there, guilty as ever with those boxer briefs clutched in his grip, cock still hanging between his zipper.

“So, uh…” Ben starts again, shifting in place.  “How long you been doing this?”

Homelander doesn’t know how the fuck he’s supposed to answer.  How does he salvage this, how does he fix it?  He can’t just say this is the first time, that’d be too obvious–

“I–”

Fuck.  Fuck.  Now he has to say something, and quick.

Let me. Sings that devious voice in his head, all too eager to take the reins.  Homelander, all too relieved to let go and escape the shame, relents immediately.  The change happens in a flash.

“Benjamin,” he tuts with a cock of his head.  “What kind of question is that, hm?”

The bug bristles at the change in his demeanor– probably that sixth sense of his tattling on the shift.  From within the safe confines of his mind, Homelander practically begs:  Please, please be gentle with him.  He’s good to us, remember?

“Come here,” he demands, a finger pointed to his boot as if he meant to beckon a dog.  He watches with a sick, satisfied grin as Ben comes forward timidly, lips parted, hand all but outstretched to show no ill intent. 

The web-head has met this alter ego before. He knows exactly what this is.

He grips Benjamin by the wrist, tugging him damn near chest-to-chest.

“Attaboy,” he breathes directly into Ben’s ear.  The way he squirms sends a delicious shiver right to his cock.  “If you must know… I do it every… single… day.”

He can hear Ben gulp in response.  He feels the heat of the bug’s body, feels how rigid he is.  One overdramatic sniff of the air and he smirks down at the web-head.

“Smells like you’re cookin’ up my next pair, aren’t you?  Getting ‘em good and wet for me…”  His lips spread into the most devious smile possible, parting only to lick a stripe over Benjamin’s cheekbone.  He doesn’t know what he loves more: the fact he doesn’t resist, or that Ben fucking reached out to grip his arm when he did it.  That he needed to steady himself was a delicious thought.

John watches from behind his own eyes, mystified, but also saddened. It should be him in control, it should be him teasing his Benjamin like this.

“Answer me, bug boy.”

“I–” Ben starts, but his voice breaks from nervousness.

“I knew it.”  Homelander teases, leaning in close to murmur in his ear.  “Y’know, I’d love a fresh taste… And you’d love to give it to me, wouldn’t you?”

Ben gulps audibly, squeezing tighter around Homelander’s arm which, of course, makes that smile grow all the more devilish.

“Tell me right now you don’t want to lay back and let me eat your pussy until all you can possibly do is scream my name.”  He murmurs, a hand coming up and tugging Ben’s head back to reveal his neck.  Homelander peppers a kiss or two before scraping his teeth along the side he’s always imagined would be most sensitive.

His satisfaction at Benjamin’s weak gasp is unmeasurable.  His cock twitches and he presses it against the bug’s hip. He could take this boy apart so easily…

“Imagine it… my tongue running between your pretty little pussy lips.  You, writhing and moaning like a little whore for me.  Creaming around my fingers because you just can’t help yourself…”  Homelander chuckles darkly, rubbing his cock against Ben more brazenly now.  “You taste sooo sweet on your clothes. C’mon, Benny… Give us a taste.”

He reaches down to grab himself and tucks his cock between Ben’s thighs.  With slow, calculated thrusts, Homelander mimes the act of fucking him.

“When I’m done, I’ll give you what you want.”

The panting breaths from the wall-crawler are so enticing he can hardly help himself when he swallows those soft little noises with a kiss, tongue delving between Ben’s lips without hesitation.  “You want this…” He purrs between unreciprocated kisses.  “You want me.”

“I–” Ben starts, pausing when a finger hooks under the waistband of his pants.  

“Mm, say it.”  Homelander orders in a whisper.  He starts to snake his hand inside.  “Say how much you want me, how badly you want me to taste you– fuck you…”

Benjamin goes to speak once more, but sucks a sharp breath instead when a finger swipes between his soaked folds.  It drags back and forth, pressing against his hole, dipping inside just the slightest bit before trailing to his clit.

“Drenched,”  Homelander all but moans.  “Fucking knew you would be…”  He draws his hand free and brings it to his lips, tracing slick over them before slipping inside.  “Delicious… I knew you fucking wanted me.”

“Johnny…” Ben murmurs.  

Homelander practically doesn’t even hear it.

“I want Johnny.” He repeats, this time a little more brave despite how much anxiety dances in his words. This was volatility personified. 

Homelander looks at him with a flicker of ire, as though he’s ready to discipline him.  Throw him over his knee for a good spanking, fuck him senseless– something or the other.  Whichever one scratches the itch and accomplishes the task all at once.

“And why the fuck would you want him instead of me?”  He asks, bitterness lacing his words.  He spins them and traps Benjamin against the bed.

This is how it went last time.  Though last time was incredibly different, significantly more violent, and a lot less sexually charged, Benjamin needed only to ask and, somehow, John would find himself with enough strength to come back to the surface.  He can practically feel the resistance brewing.

Let me out.

Absolutely not.

Let me the fuck out!

“I want Johnny.” Ben repeats again, firm with every word.  In all fairness, Ben would absolutely have a round with this version of Homelander.  Just… not right now.  Not before John.  A snarl precedes that hand diving back into his pants, fingers delving deep into his cunt.  Benjamin can hardly stop the gasping moan that comes out.  It’s hard to resist it, hard to pretend he doesn’t actually want this.

But this isn’t who he wants it with.  Johnny would come first, always.

“Sing for me, little birdie.” Homelander commands, fucking his digits in and out, fingers curled perfectly.  His face twists as if he’s struggling to keep control. “You’re soaked for me. You’re like this because of me!  Not him!”

Ben’s whines are music to his ears even as he fights to keep from losing his hold.

I’m in control here!  Me!  You let me out right fucking now! He wants me!

Suddenly Homelander is shaking his head violently, expression pinched, teeth bared and grinding– and then he’s not.  His fingers still, his expression softens, eyes widen like a deer in headlights.

Still knuckle deep, Homelander freezes.

“Johnny..?”  Ben asks, though he’s already confident the switch had happened.  Despite the intrusion between his legs, the moment is significantly less tense than with the previous presence.  “I–”

“You want… me?”  

His voice is nearly a whisper, a touch of timidness in his tone.

“Yeah,” Ben nods, eyes shutting.  He leans in to press their foreheads together.  “I didn’t think it’d happen like this, y’know, but… yeah.”

Homelander lurches forward in an embarrassingly desperate manner, taking Ben in a kiss that he certainly didn’t mean to moan into.  Just like he doesn’t mean to melt when he feels reciprocation, he just does.

He can hardly wrap his mind around any of it. Ben’s lips, so soft and sweet against his.  The sweet boy’s cunt fluttering all hot and wet around his middle and ring fingers.  He could come undone just from what he’d been dropped into.  He sighs and starts moving his fingers, slow at first, soft.  

Just enough to milk the most beautiful noise he’s ever heard from his Benjamin.  It’s enough to make him whine and press his stiff cock right against Ben’s thigh– but only for a moment.  Long enough for his desperation and revived confidence to grow into a hunger unlike anything he’s ever known.  Suddenly he’s lifting Ben to lay flat on the bed, legs hanging off the edge, and he’s got the bug’s pants torn free and–

The first lick to his core isn’t even full contact.  He suckles the wet spot of Ben’s underwear, lips wrapped tight to get every last bit.  He mewls for it, face pressing between his little spider’s thighs to tease that first truly fresh taste of his greatest longing– like he means to drown in it.  The hands in his hair satisfy every dream he’s ever had of such a moment, tugging and gripping like Benjamin would die if he didn’t.

“Oh god…” The bug whimpers, hips bucking.  It’s all the motivation Homelander needs to deny himself just long enough to yank those boxer briefs away and reveal his meal.  He dives in completely undignified, moans muffling as he presses the whole of his open mouth to Ben’s cunt, tongue delving as deep into his hole as physically possible.  He’d trade his powers for a longer tongue right fucking now if it meant he could reach further inside– if he could collect more of that sweet nectar on his tongue and feed the starving beast inside of him that demanded so much more.

He suckles and flicks Ben’s clit, practically hypnotized at his size and thickness.  It’s so easy to get it into his mouth– so easy to suck and hold and–

The bed creaks with a particularly sharp unconscious thrust of his hips at the realization.  It’s like having a cock in his mouth.

He keeps Ben’s legs spread high and wide.  The quakes of them in his iron grip shoot straight to his ego and cock, making his eyes roll and heat all at once.

“Johnny– Oh, fuck, fuck, please–”

That’s right!  Say it!  Say my fucking name!

As if reading his mind, Benjamin does.  He howls and shivers and shakes through an orgasm that leaves him gushing slick against Homelander’s eager tongue. Homelander’s head is pressed down hard by the hands in his hair– silent pleas for more and more.

He’s so thrilled with himself that he couldn’t possibly prevent the moan that reverberates against Benjamin’s throbbing clit.  It practically jerks in his mouth.

“Oh god!”

I am your god.

And he just can’t bring himself to stop.  Can’t help but act out every single scenario he’s ever dreamed up while pressing stolen clothing to his nose and fucking his hand.  It’s going to pale in comparison when he finally slips into Ben’s cunt– he fucking knows it.  He’ll never be able to go back to something so dull when he’s tasted heaven and touched the stars.

He’s damn near ready to dive in for more when the hands in his hair yank good and hard, pulling him up.  He’s still clothed except for his cock free between his zipper, now harder than he's ever been in his life.  He has half a mind to just shove it in and fuck Ben before the boy could strip him down, but that option is long gone when a kiss distracts him long enough for zippers and clasps to get undone.

Pussy. 

Shut the fuck up! 

He neglects his alter ego’s taunts in favor of reveling in touches to his bare chest.  It’s enough to leave goosebumps and make him shiver.  He hardly knows what to do when Ben strips him the rest of the way, much less when a hand finally wraps around his cock.  The gasp that left him was less than pathetic, but it doesn’t deter the touches and soft kisses pressed to his neck.

“You’re amazing,” Ben murmurs against his flesh, breath fanning wet spots and making him twitch like some sort of virgin.  His eyes flutter open and catch a smile so genuine it melts his heart.  Each stroke along his length makes his chest heave with deep, unsteady breaths– every swipe of Ben's thumb to his soaked tip drives him near insanity.   He’s so pent up, even after getting off earlier.  He could blow at any second– god, what if it’s disappointing?  What if he ruins it because he’s too fucking weak to hold back?  

He’s thought of this so many fucking times that he practically has no control whatsoever.  But he never thought it’d feel so– 

So–

Something overtakes him, desperate beyond measure, utterly starved, and he rolls them.  Much as he’d love to drag it out, he’s on the brink and he’s not going to come until–

“O-ooh fffuuuck!” 

No sooner than his tip breeches Benjamin’s cunt is he blowing his load and–

Pathetic.

“Mm– oh, fuck– I’m sorry–”

At least I’d have actually gotten to fuck him.

“Oh god, I'm sorry, I'm sorry–” 

One pump chump, huh? 

He buries his face against Ben's neck to hide as pleasure and shame mix like oil and water in his gut. His body is locked tight, hips jerking despite having slipped out in the midst of an exceptionally pathetic, desperate thrust. 

You ruin everything you touch. 

It’s only when he’s nudged out of his hiding spot that he realizes he’s still whispering apologies.

“Hey, what’s– are you okay?”  Ben asks, concern replacing the bliss once etched so beautifully on his face.

Your fault. 

“I…” Homelander starts, shaking his head when the words get stuck in his throat.  “I didn’t mean to… finish so early…”

Ben’s hands cup his cheeks and cradle him, thumbs rubbing at his cheeks.  “I don’t mind.”  He says.  “We can stop if you’re–”

“No!” He interrupts.  “No, we– I can be ready again, I just–”

His face is burning red; he knows it.

“Shh, Johnny.  Don’t stress.  Just…”  Ben pulls him down into a kiss, soft and slow.  “Just kiss me for a bit, okay?”

Despite his racing heart and his mental roommate jabbing at his pride, he goes along.  It starts easy, simple pecks and gentle glides of lips.  A pace perfect to diminish his anxiety, an act sweet enough to dispel the shame.  Simple touches meant to soothe, others meant to ground.

He pulls back and looks at Benjamin for a moment, appreciating his kiss-swollen lips and hazy eyes before going right back in with more fervor.  Legs wrap around his waist and pull him into a grinding motion, milking a breathy moan directly into the kiss.

“That’s it…” Ben purrs between kisses.  

His tongue joins the fray, eyes rolling back as the taste and sensations hit his mind all at once.

He’s hard again in no time, especially with those little words of praise in between.  He stills when a hand slips between their bodies and grasps his cock, directing his tip to swipe between come-slicked folds still drenched for him.

Benjamin lines him up perfectly and he sinks in without thought.  A strangled moan catches in his throat as he’s practically sucked in by that tight heat.  Ben’s noises drive him insane– little gasps and whines as he adjusts, comments about how thick he is and oh– 

His arms wrap under Ben’s back to pull him impossibly closer.  He starts slow, steady and gentle just like Ben had been with him.  

Good.  Now ruin him.

He fights to keep his controlled pace, fights to be a perfect gentleman and not shatter this sweet boy.

“Johnny~”

And it’s so fucking hard not to.

His face is buried in Benjamin’s neck again and he picks up the pace, settling into a sloppy rut like an animal in heat– but god that’s exactly what he is.  Desperate and instinctive, he drives himself into Ben over and over again, chasing that high, knowing each deep stroke is what pulls those sweet little whimpers from his precious Benjamin and by god he’ll do it again and again–

“Harder!”  Gasps his little spider, and he’s all too happy to oblige.  His back arches, arms brace, and he cuts loose. His mind snaps– all there is anymore is this.  A lifetime of them and nothing else.  It couldn’t possibly be anything else.

Breathy exclamations turn to noisy moans, all of them sung into the air for him in tandem with squelches and wet slaps of skin.

Hear how he sings for you?  That’s it, keep going.  Hand under his lower back– good.  Help him arch into it.  Attaboy.

Homelander nods in the crook of Ben’s neck, tongue falling free to lick a stripe into which he fully intends to leave his mark.

Feel how he quakes under you?  Bite him.  Claim him.

His teeth sink in, just enough not to break the skin but he will mark this sweet boy as his.

He’s yours now, tiger.

“G-Gonna come! Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!”  Ben exclaims under him, nails biting into Homelander’s back as he holds on for dear life.  “Oh god– oh fuck!”

Make sure he never wants anyone else.  Thumb on his clit, right now– rub hard.

Homelander does exactly that and with only one flick, he sends Benjamin mewling into an orgasm so strong his entire body convulses– perfectly milking another load from his cock.

They cling to each other for dear life, both hurtling through climaxes so intense they can do nothing more than gasp and whine and pray the other won’t let go.

It takes a few minutes for either to speak, but fingers run through Homelander’s hair and a hand smooths up and down his back until they do.  Comforting, caring– 

“Do you wanna stay?”

Not the question he was expecting. Not at all– and not something he’s ever been asked before by anyone.  He hates knowing his eyes are watering when he looks up, but they do and he can’t make them stop.  “D’you want me to?”  

Stupid.  Stupid voice crack, stupid– 

Shut up and listen.

“Duh,” Ben says, hands coming up to pinch at his cheeks.  “I always want you to stay.”

“You’re not… mad at me?”

This isn’t what he was expecting at all.

“Why would I be?”  Ben asks.

He’s about to explain the obvious, but–

“I mean I wish we could’ve skipped the whole fiending-for-my-underwear thing and gotten straight into this, but I’m not mad.  And I’m not mad about your brain bestie making an appearance either.” Ben smooths a hand through Homelander’s hair, scritching softly at the base of his neck.  “It’s all good.”

I've got dibs on the next time. 

“Mm, thank god.” John yawns.  It’s all he knows to say, except– “So are we uh… a thing now?”

You sound like a fucking teenager.

What, you have a better idea of how to ask him?

“D’you wanna be?” Ben asks, a beaming smile spreading across his face.  It must be contagious, because Homelander ends up with the same look.

“Yeah…” He breaths, chewing his lower lip to keep from looking any more dopey than he already does.  “Yeah, let’s– I want that.”

“Good,” Ben says, hooking a leg around him.  “So, uh… Boyfriend perks include unlimited underwear access.”  His cheeks tinge a deep red as he says it, but that just makes Homelander’s lips curl into a devious smirk.  “Among other things, y’know?”

“I can’t wait to find out,” John says.  All this time as just friends has been nothing short of  euphoric… 

Whatever is next for them must be bliss itself.

[pennyplainknits]

Four blouses

A year ago I bought a metre of some very lovely and expensive Liberty Tana lawn. It sat in my small sewing stash until I could find a pattern for it. Eventually I settled on the Perennial Blouse. I was drawn to the simplicity of the shape, which lets the pattern shine will still being fitted and not the giant sack with elastic waist which seems so common in Indie patterns and which I have many many bitchy thoughts about.

I made a quick toile and found that as usual I needed to take length out of the body. It's designed to sit at the natural waist and I have a rather short torso. That's why it looks like a crop top but I swear it's not, that's just how short my upper half is! For reference I am 5'6" (167cm) and yet need a 32in (81cm) inseam, I really am mostly leg.

I made the cap sleeve version, and it was a quick and fairly painless project that is really elevated by the beautiful finishing on the inside and the thoughtful pattern elements, such as a button hole guide and separate pattern pieces for any interfacing, a well as properly drafted armscyes (the amount of armscyes that are symmetrical makes me weep).

Here's some close ups of the pattern and the cap sleeves. I was very happy with the pattern. It's very economical for fabric, taking under a metre, and it really lets the print shine. In fact I was so happy I uh, went a bit wild

I had to give away almost all my handsewn shirts this year as my upper chest and shoulders no longer fit comfortable in them (swimming regularly will do that, and my high bust measurement has always been out of whack for standard pattern sizing anyway). So I wanted restock my handsewn blouses, and I knew I liked this pattern. So I made more.

This is a white cotton broiderie anglais, For this one I raised the scoop neck about 1.5 cm, and lengthened the body by a cm. I love the contrast of the orange buttons. I made the bias tape from some plain white polycotton because the embroidery on the body fabric would mean it was harder to use.

I've added pictures of the inside for this one. As you can see there are no raw edges anywhere in this blouse, which I LOVE. The seams are all french seams and the neckline/sleeve seam/armhole are all bound with an understitched bias facing. It makes the inside SO neat and tidy. So many patterns skimp on the seam finishing, instructing you to serge or overlock them (I don't have an overlocker nor any desire for one). And really if I wanted seams that were overlocked together, why would I bother making my own clothes. It's a seam finish I hate! I really appreciated the time put into the pattern to make the inside nice.

Next up is this fun orange number that I made as part of a Star Wars bounding outfit (I was BB-8). A lovely embroidered lawn which was SO lovely and well-behaved to work with. I cut it on the cross-grain so I could have the embroidery and cut work running parallel to the button bands

And lastly, this one in silk. It was a NIGHTMARE to work with. It's whisper-thin and slippery and semi-sheer. I gave it gelatine bath which did help to somewhat stabilise the fabric as I cut and sewed it but it also made it super staticky. I think I should have used more gelatine because although it was slightly papery it was still slippery and seemed to stretch and deform if you so much as looked at it wrong.

(Wait, I can hear you say. Gelatine? Like the stuff sweets are made of? Yes! It's a way of stabilising very find or floppy fabric. You mix gelatine and hot water (I used a ratio of 1 tsp to 500ml water), soak you fabric, and let it dry, whereupon you iron it, and cut out your pattern. It washes right out of the fabric when you are done).

The fabric fought me every step of the way. I was nearly done when I slipped cutting a buttonhole and ripped a tear in the button band. I had to do a small patch job and you can TOTALLY see it but I'm hoping the pattern makes it less obvious.

The finished blouse is wonderful to wear though, so light and elegant so I think it is worth it.

[seynne]

Well now I'm just curious since I can't even remember seeing any posts on him but what's the fandom thing with Markus :3

Oh ! It's, that I have seen some people calling him a creep and like, a few fanfics treating him like a pervert and all.

Well. He's not! He's, I roughly quote, "not particularly pleasant and not someone you can trust", and he is pompous, and he's definitively completely crazed by the Absolute, the worst kind of paladin you can think of.

BUT.

What happens with Isobel, and the fact that he's got these wings, and the rest, should be taken with a pinch of salt given that from what his corpse says, he was :

forcefully captured and "enlightened" (meaning: tadpoled against will, VERY LIKELY)

the man was turned into an abomination not once, but TWICE, and the second time if he gave his agreement, it was while brainwashed, so zero consent

the wings he has are rotting on him. He looks sick. That thing is killing him from the inside. Twisted he is, but at this point there is a HEAVY dose of "has a tadpole in his brain that enslaves him to an elder brain and to the general by proxy"

killed someone he considers a friend and depending on your interpretation, is also the most valuable person he has in the world, which no one would do in their right mind

the way he's treated in Moonrise Towers clearly show that he's at the complete bottom of the hierarchy, the guy is forgotten behind when the troops leave??

that his wings are or aren't Aylin's are NOT HIS FAULT, but Balthazar

he is a loser, he's vain, and he's not particularly kind or someone you can trust,

and i do not remember the exact wording, but he's got a big want to prove himself, crave for accomplishment, for reknown,

and tricking the entire Last Light Inn by pretending to be a spy was a shit thing to do, but you can read my thoughts on it here

but calling him a pervert because he wants to kidnap Isobel (it's bad. It's horrible, and he knows what effect it will have, and the tadpole makes him think it's ok.), but saying he's a sadistic asshole, worse, I've read him described as worse than a murderer and I'm not going to say the word here - I'm sorry, but there's nothing, absolutely NOTHING that implies him as such. That guy is brainwashed like crazy, and the way he behaves otherwise has nothing as such.

The NPCs in Last Light Inn can talk about him, and to some he looked shady, to others he was so nice the guys are weeping because they wanted to save him or outright mourning, but there's nothing that suggest he had a pervert side of him. The number of NPCs who flirt or are sexually loaded is huge, esp. among villains, but he's not of them.

I know that he's a villain, i know that in game he looks bad, but a big part of the True Souls we meet, and some of our heroes who got TEMPTED by the Absolute, were tadpoled by force, so calling them like this...

To everyone their own interpretations, of course, but I think for Marcus it's REALLY taking a huge stretch to show him like this. He's a paladin for the evil side, for sure, i'm absolutely not denying it, i'm denying specifically the "pervert" side.

Call me a fool perhaps?

It's perhaps because I love the character, but honestly he really does NOT give me these vibes, and I fail to see how in game he gives them. Not an attack against the people who describe him as such, I just fail to see why.

... But then again I love the Emperor, who is regularly described like this when, even in the worse interpretation of him I could give, he's far from it. Soo...