#My Writing Corner

[randomnotebookthoughts]

I am truly a giggler. A laugher. A chuckler. Just somewhere in the background snickering.

[rottenrager]

There are two hearts on the floor, one is mine, both are yours.

[marvelishmanda]

For You, Exactly As You Are

You wake up tired, scroll bad news until it blurs. Answer emails, jaw clenched tight— or can’t even bear to look.

You say “I’m fine” with three tabs open—rent, repair, relief— and one on how to sleep through the stress, or how not to sleep all the time.

You forget. You snap. You soften. You try again.

If you are carrying children, parents, partners— meals, medications, moods— and no one asks how you’re doing, this is me asking.

Not just if you’re managing. If you’re okay. If you’ve been held, or fed, or even seen.

How are you, really?

If your brain jumps tracks mid-sentence, mid-plan, mid-dream— if the dishes feel impossible, if you forgot again and hate yourself for it— please hear this: you are not alone. Not at all.

This world wasn’t built for minds like yours, but that doesn’t mean yours is wrong. It means you’ve been trying to bloom through cracked concrete, drinking whatever rain you could reach, and still—still—you flowered.

If the world was made for standing without thinking, for walking without fear, for climbing stairs without pain, for seeing every sign, for hearing every word—

If holding a pen, a fork, a steering wheel costs more energy than you have, if you measure your day in spoons left, not hours passed—

you are not broken. You are not a burden. The burden is stairs with no ramp, streets that swallow wheels, silence when you ask for help.

If rest feels dangerous, if joy feels stolen, if you’re so used to pushing through you forgot how to just be— you’re not the only one.

The world wasn’t built for you. Not for most of us, was it? But you are here anyway, making it work how you can.

That is not failure. That is survival. That is a kind of brilliance.

You are not failing. You are not falling behind. You are responding to a world that punishes tenderness.

And still— you are kind. You are trying. You are here.

If you wonder whether I mean you, I do. Even if the voice says "not me," I still do.

Come as you are: tired, tangled, beautiful.

You don’t have to fix yourself to deserve rest. You don’t have to be better to be loved.

You already are loved.

Still.

Still.

[waltricia]

3x02 — How Bright the Moon

[thoughtsfromb4]

Why We Speak

To triumph, all the wicked need is our silence as they pursue their tyranny.

For in that silence, we will sadly find that our path lies beside complicity.

True courage stands and speaks its mind; it is undaunted, damn the cost–

It knows the power held in every voice and just how much could still be lost.

This is why, in these times, we must all speak–loud and proud and clear;

Why we must have faith in one another and why we cannot give in to fear.

Why we must stand firm in the face of hate, even when it feels we must move the heavens;

Remembering, always, the simple, eternal truth that from our lips leap weapons!

--@thoughtsfromb4

[reineydraws]

✨️ BROTHERS! ✨️

(shouto will live out his idle childhood daydreams, even if he has to reverse their roles himself haha)

[a-j-s-the-only]

“…make death proud to take us.”

-Shakespeare, Antony and Cleopatra

[munamarvel14]

Writers are on a spectrum. We either text like illiterates or like professors of high most formality.

[accessoryclouds]

my emotional support jazzling

[leobashi]

Grumpy old man who’s always having a bad day married to sunshine boy who radiates sickening optimism my beloveds jdjsn

[dollsghost]

total shit post but ... .. ..

soap giving you shit about your arch. snickering and cooing condescendingly when he fucks you so good you cant hold yourself up anymore, arms buckling and collapsing face first into the pillows --

only to struggle holding his own when ghost gets to him. doing the exact same thing you did only with more whines that you're definitely gonna bring up the second he's isn't cock-drunk anymore.

[nightmareevara]

I'd offer you my soul if you ask me to.

[themeraldee]

Sweet As Honey

[Masterlist] [AO3]

18+ Only | 7.6k | Homelander x fem!Reader | Set in Season 4. Lactation kink. Breastfeeding. Self-induced lactation (there might be inaccuracies). Established relationship. Shower sex. (And more importantly) Awkward shower sex. Some dirty talk. Cockwarming.

Written for cozy corner kinktober prompt #21: Breastfeeding

Huge kudos to @witchyclipse for beta-reading and keeping me sane 💚

Ever since Homelander has taken up the role as the head of Vought, things have changed. He’s always had to carry the burden of being the company’s poster boy, but it’s a whole different league to be involved with the business side of things.

This change has put a mild strain on your relationship. With the increasingly irritable moods he comes home with, you have tried coming up with more and more ways to make him feel better and release the increasing tension. You’ve even tried your hand at massages. And even though Homelander sighs happily anytime your oiled hands glide down his back, you know it’s more of a soft caress than a massage. And while there’s nothing wrong with a soft touch, the tickle of your hands doesn’t ease any of the deep ache lingering in the fibers of his steel woven muscles.

The closest you ever got him to release even a sliver of tension has been with sex. No matter what the situation outside your little bubble of content and intimacy ends up being, he’s never taken away from either of your pleasures. He’s entirely in the moment. He can be an incredibly attentive lover, thinking of you and only you. Whether it’s about your pleasure or his own, his mind doesn’t wander to outer conflicts. It’s why you push for long sessions whenever you can. The longer you can keep him in the subspace the better.

So it’s not that any of the things you do don’t help. They do. Very well in fact. Daily you have Homelander purring in your lap while you stroke his hair or moaning in your ear while you stroke his cock. He happily guzzles up all the love, care, and attention you pour down his throat. 

However, his highs don’t last long. As soon as he’s forced to break out of the dreamlike state that only you and him inhabit, his mind is quickly plagued with the overwhelming thoughts of plans going wrong and positive public perception dropping in waves.

This is most prevalent after nightfall. The dark of the night brings out his inner demons. The tension snaps back into his spine like a spring that you’ve been doing your best to keep bent the entire evening.

Falling asleep is a tough ordeal. Once that hurdle is over, sleeping soundly is an even harder challenge. His nightmares frequent his sleep more often these days. 

So you do your best to soothe him through this transition. Some nights you talk his worries away. Filling his mind with an enticing vision of escaping the media and the corporate driven life he’s surrounded himself with. You place him in the imaginary scenario of a warm family home. There he comes home to soft music, warmth and comfort. In his mind you’re preparing a home-cooked meal for him and Ryan, calling everyone down to the dinner table when you’re ready. Family pictures on the walls, Ryan’s achievements tacked to the fridge with magnets; nothing about this image screams control or misery. His perfect imaginary family. 

The wistful smile he gives the vision you describe always tugs at your heartstrings. You both know it’s a fantasy and in a way is no better than the Vought-curated story of his upbringing. While the idea is fun to roleplay, at the end the vision always falls apart like a house of cards. 

The hurt he carries pains you to see. So you relish in knowing that you’re the reason behind his relieved sigh anytime he comes home. Just like the soft hum that resembles a purr anytime you’ve got him soft and malleable in your lap. It warms your heart on a daily basis that you still affect him so.

But you know you can do more. 

While other people would be upset at their partner having less time for them, for you it couldn’t have come at a better time. Before this whole Vought takeover really happened you couldn’t free yourself from Homelander’s presence for even a good ten minutes. Whether it’d be him making sure he’s always by your side, because you never know what might happen, or him keeping an eye on you through the walls of the Vought tower; you knew he was constantly there.

Planning any sort of surprise was impossible. He’d always come home, greeting you with a smile and a not at all subtle, what did you get up to today, planning anything? Like a child, too impatient to wait till Christmas morning, he’s scanning every room looking for whatever present or surprise you have prepared for him. And while it’s been annoying to not be able to surprise him, you can’t really fault him too much. He’s never had any of this. After he divulged the details of his upbringing, you started seeing how with you around, he was chasing the moments he missed out. So if looking for secret presents or having you read your book out loud as he dozes off next to you heals any part of his inner child, you can’t really complain.

During these tense days you see how much he craves the simplicity of what should have been. A childhood, and normal upbringing that would have never gotten him into this mess. Something that would ground him and soothe his soul. 

This is where your plan comes into play. It didn’t take long into your relationship for you to figure out just how much Homelander was fixated on your breasts. It’s where his hands immediately slip down to when your kissing got hot and heavy. It’s where he presses his lips anytime he’s inside you and in reach. And it’s most definitely where you most frequently catch him staring when you’re not looking.

The most recent development started off with Homelander falling asleep on your chest. Something about your heartbeat loud in his ears soothing him and putting him to sleep. This gradually turned into Homelander absentmindedly, or so he says, playing with your breasts. Which very quickly turned into him suckling on your nipples as he fell asleep. You never found it bothersome, quite the opposite.  

And seeing him nuzzle into your chest so peacefully, suckling on your breast with such a content face just gave you an idea. Another thing that he’s never had. Something you’re more than happy to provide.

You prove yourself to be resourceful. While Homelander is out of the penthouse juggling crime fighting, press conferences, public appearances and meetings, you’re at home researching home remedies, housewife tales and experiences of wet nurses.

Upon finding out that it’s possible for you to induce lactation without being pregnant or undergoing hormonal treatments, you cheer. While keeping this little secret to yourself would be easy enough with how occupied Homelander was these days, keeping up with a hormonal regiment would be a lot harder to explain.

So started your journey. It took a few months of constant massages. You introduced herbal medicine in the form of teas into your diet. Easily dismissed to Homelander as your new routine towards better health. From fenugreek to fennel seeds, you’ve tried everything to beat the odds. Your determination and hordes of free time left you able to fully commit. 

Knowing you were doing this for him was enough motivation to keep going. Anytime he’d come home upset, irritable and grumpy you made yourself another cup of tea and gave your breasts an extended massage in the shower.

Even in all your secrecy, Homelander still noticed something being off. Across the time together he’s gotten to know your body to a tee, identifying your cycles is as easy as knowing the day of the week. So it’s not surprising that he comments on changes to your body that are out of the typical window.

He nearly caught wind of your secret few months into your little experiment, when he kissed his way down your neck and your chest. Too eager to get his lips around your hardened nipples to take his time cherishing each inch of your skin like he normally would. 

He gives your nipple a kiss, parting his lips to suckle on it like usual but he stops himself right before, making an intrigued hum. 

“Your nipples are more swollen than usual.” He gives it a little lick, as if to check if everything is okay with you. 

“Oh it’s just this new bra I got. It’s a little irritating.” You easily lie. You’ve prepared yourself for this confrontation many times in your mind, coming up with plausible scenarios. And while you’re aware of Homelander’s disdain for liars, you know he’ll forgive this once your plan comes to fruition. 

“Well, fuck, buy some new ones. Have a shopping spree. Or whatever.” He sighs in between your breasts as he presses wet kisses into the soft skin. 

You chuckle at the suggestion. Of course, he’s always there to meet your every wish and demand. Should you voice it or not. “There’s no need, I’ve got plenty. Really.”

“Oop, nope, you’re not getting out of this one. Haven’t had you give me a show in a little while now.” He gives you a cheeky look but really his attention is equally split in between your conversation and your breasts and you know he’s soon going to forget this little detail.

“Sure. If it’ll make you happy. Though I’m not sure a new bra will help. Starting to think you’re the culprit.” Your tone is tinted with your smile as you run your hands through his hair making him hum around your nipple.

“Guilty.” He popped his lips off wetly for a second before turning back to lick and kiss his way around your breasts to continue his nighttime ritual.

And for all of Homelander’s pride in his enhanced senses, he’s not noticed anything different since then. Except for commenting on the obvious enlargement of your breasts, which you end up blaming on your cycle or—when that excuse falls through—weight gain. A fact he very happily hummed at before continuing his playtime.

Lucky for you, you got to conduct your little experiment at your pace. For once really getting to surprise him.

Except all you end up doing is surprising yourself. 

Although your breasts feel more swollen and tender these days you blame it on the constant massaging and Homelander’s very own take on stimulation of the tissue. And yet, you’ve still not gotten any tangible results. The defeatist part of you was ready to wave your plans goodbye as a result. Until now. 

You’re indulging in your nighttime routine before Homelander comes back home. The tenderness you feel as you massage your breasts with the help of a vanilla and almond milk body wash is nothing new. What’s new is the milky droplet you notice when you wash off the soapy residue off your breasts. 

What happens next is a rollercoaster only you’re privy to.

Your heart races, the joy nearly making you scream in celebration as a months-long process is finally bearing fruits. The overwhelming glee you feel at finally being able to gift Homelander this homemade treat is quickly soured when you just about hear the door slam.

No. no. no! Not like this.

You had a setup in mind. Following your nighttime ritual, you’d be easing his mind with the sweet rivulets coating his tongue. You imagined the palpable relief you’d feel coming off him with each suckle of his lips. You don’t want him to find out like this. 

You can only hope that he’s annoyed and distracted enough that blaming the scented soap would be enough of an explanation to the underlying sweet scent of your milk. Your own milk. The thought alone was enough to make you giddy again. The man has been entertaining your every wish and whim throughout your entire relationship. Not only has he been terribly difficult to surprise, the appropriate gift has been just as hard to find. Who knew that you’d find the perfect one within yourself. The thought of finally revealing your secret to Homelander leaves a visceral throb of warmth in between your thighs..

Your body goes through sharp turns each second. From joy to dread to arousal, you feel the anticipation of what’s to come when the bathroom door opens and in walks an already naked Homelander.

“Fuck, you're a sight for sore eyes. Missed you.” Homelander quickly makes his way into the glass walled shower sliding right behind you, his arms automatically wrapping around your waist.

“I missed you too. I'm glad you're home.” You mumbled weakly, tilting your head to the side to allow him to press a kiss to your cheek first, neck second. Even amidst the spray of hot water his lips are hot against your skin, leaving warm tingles along their path.

“You have no clue how happy I am to see you.” He talks into the juncture of your neck, barely audible to you. But you catch the fatigued tone nonetheless. Maybe today really is a perfect day for the reveal.

“What happened?” 

“You don't have to worry your pretty head about that right now. I can tell you later.” One of Homelander's arms dips lower. He exhales in a way that feels like releasing the entire day's worth of weight off his shoulders.

“Now… I want you. Because fuck, I don't know what you've used today but you smell really fucking good.” He inhales sharply letting the soft vanilla and almond sweet smell of you take over his senses. Whether or not his senses picked up on the lingering milky undertone is something you don't want to press on. Instead you distract him.

You spread your legs a little allowing his hand to slither in between your legs. While water is not a lubricant your pooled arousal is. Already you’re slick enough to let his fingers glide along the velvety softness of your cunt. 

“Look at you... You know—hah—I could hear your heart rate go a teeny tiny bit insane when I arrived. Getting up to no good, were you?” You clearly see the mischievous grin in your mind without having to turn around.

“I wanted to be ready for you.” You exhale softly. You slump in his hold. It's nice to be able to relax and feel his deft fingers softly rolling your clit in a way that leaves your nerves buzzing and craving more. “I was hoping you'd get home soon.” You trail off, your voice turning a little high pitched as he massages you precisely enough to get your thighs quivering. He's learned how to rub your clit in a way that feels like bursts of fire sparking underneath the surface while not overstimulating you. It feels like heaven. Your eyes roll back and you grip hold onto the arm that he still has wrapped around your middle.

And while your arousal came from the excitement regarding the progress of your long-winded journey it’s not difficult to lose sight of that when Homelander is coaxing sweet moans out of you with well placed strokes around your clit. The victory is all forgotten by the time you feel his hard cock grinding against your ass, just begging to be taken care of.

Homelander has always been a needy lover. Even when his day to day is filled with bullshit he seems to be losing more and more of his sanity over, he still takes care of you as thoroughly as you deserve. Of course, knowing he’s getting just as thorough of a treatment from you. 

“Feel that?” He grunts in your ear. Taking the opportunity to nip your ear with a playful chuckle.

“So fuckin’ slutty of you, barely touched you and you’re already dripping.” Your legs feel like jelly with the way he treats you. He holds you tight, unyielding against his frame. Manipulating you to his heart's content. You’re almost off the ground. You can still reach with your tip toes but it’s far enough that it forces you to sag all your weight onto his frame. The sense of weightlessness and the confusing physicality at play gets you lightheaded. With how effortlessly he supports your weight, his fingers find it easier to glide with precision.

Normally you’d love to return the dialogue. Praise his efforts, his body, his mind. Just him. You know that’s what he wants. But the euphoria from the excitement and the constant burning pressure on your clit is enough to have your mind spinning. Barely focused on what he’s saying, let alone capable of coming up with your own sexy one-liners. 

“I love that about you, you know that? You’re so responsive. You never disappoint. Needy. Eager. All for me.” His voice gets frazzled towards the end. The quiver in the way his voice breaks could make anyone think he’s the one close to the finish line. And really, if you weren’t still getting sprayed by hot water you’d be able to feel the precum his cock has leaked all over you, grinding into your body with the slip it provided. Even though you’ve given him no extra attention, you simply craving him is more than enough to get him riled up.

It’s okay, he’ll get his turn. He’ll get his reward.

"Nobody can make you feel this good, baby. Nobody." He trails off with a hiss; the smell of you intoxicating enough amongst the soft sweet scents of almond and vanilla.

What makes Homelander a truly great lover is his unfaltering pace. He’s not pausing because he has to readjust his grip on you, neither is his hand tired from the endless and torturously consistent strokes around your clit that make your nerves light up all the way to your toes. 

“Gonna be a good girl and cum for me? I know you’re close. I can almost fucking taste it.” Homelander sounds wrecked. 

As if he could feel every single sensation your body is going through. Maybe part of him can. He’s so attuned to your body’s reactions. The smell, the sound of your heartbeat, the feel of your straining muscle, the tremble of your limbs. It’s no wonder he’s just as affected. 

He’s proud of being able to make you feel this way. Being the only one to make you feel this way. He has said so many times before and he continues to do so. He revels in being able to bring you the heavens themself with each spectacular orgasm. “M’gonna need you to hurry up sweetheart. I still want to fuck you.” He says this with a chuckle as if you were simply a little late to a meeting and not on the brink of a mind-altering orgasm. “And with how good you smell, hah well, I’m not gonna fucking last long.” 

With a few more finishing strokes you’re locking up in his hold. This orgasm had a long build up. The consistency of his strokes slowly stoked the fire to a bright flame until you felt the sensation spread to every nerve ending across your body. From your toes to your scalp, your body endlessly tingling. You slump in his arms, the pleasure pulsating through you like waves crashing across the beachfront one after another. 

“Mhmm that’s it, spread your legs a little more.” Homelander grunts out. He isn’t patient enough to give you a second to collect yourself. So you lean forward a little, bracing against the wall while you part your legs. A shiver runs through you when he grinds his cock in between your legs. The head of it catching on your abused clit.

While you’re excited to feel him in you, the need for each other isn’t enough to overcome the awkwardness that tends to come with shower sex. It’s slippery, wet and the verticality ups the difficulty. 

Homelander struggles pushing inside you from the odd angle your bodies are at. You’d be giggling at the clumsy slide of it all if it wasn’t for your own frustrated impatience. You whimper and whine, almost in protest at not yet getting what he promised. Homelander, in equal fashion, grunts in annoyance. Each effort to stuff you full gets derailed by slipperiness of your folds. And while the thickness of him rubbing between your slit feels grand, it’s not enough to quench his hunger for your tight squeezing warmth.

“Please… I need—” You whimper when the tip of him hits your clit again. Your clit feels so overstimulated that at this point it resembles the fuzzy shocked feeling of hitting your funny bone. 

“—I'm fucking trying alright, stop moving so much.” Homelander interrupts you, even more frustrated than you.

“Your cunt is just too fucking slippery. God fuck—” It’s when the tip of him finally makes it in, yet manages to slip out right as he’s eager to push in all the way is when he’s really had enough. 

Homelander effortlessly lifts you up, forcing your knees to bend, pressing against your chest as his hands grasp the flesh of the back of your thighs. 

You yelp at the sudden feeling of weightlessness. It’s the one thing that never ceases to amaze you. With your previous partners the sex positions didn’t move past the classics. All perfectly fine positions that you still thoroughly enjoy with Homelander on a daily basis. But nothing thrills you as much as being able to feel his wholly inhuman strength. Easily tossing you around and molding you to his body. You become less of an active participant and more of a warm and perfectly wet toy for him to fuck into.

Now is no different. Homelander finally manages to sink his cock into your throbbing and just as eager pussy. Your little content sigh of relief at finally being filled doesn’t last long. Instead he steals your breath away with the hurried press of his hips into yours. Your weight in his arms does nothing to deter his pace, effortlessly ruining you both with the slide of his cock. You brace yourself against his arms, looking for a shred of stability but that never comes.

The stretch of his cock from this position makes your clit ache. Already desperate for more direct attention. Opposite to the long drawl of your orgasm, Homelander is rutting into you as if he’s competing with himself on how many more thrusts he can fit in before he’s unloading into you.

It’s not many. He was clearly as worked up as he sounded. Losing himself in your pliant and warm body was already mind-blowing any given day. Being able to manhandle you fully, not giving you any leverage was an entirely different beast. While still minding his strength he lets himself unravel into the welcoming squeeze of your walls, pumping spurt after spurt of hot cum deep inside you.

While the quick fuck managed to reignite your flame, you don’t find it in you to beg for another finish. You feel rattled, legs resembling jelly and you haven’t even been put down. You’re all too aware of the way the thickness of his cock slowly slides out, and with it your pussy squeezes out a dribble of cum, sliding down in between your ass cheeks. 

You whimper at loss almost instinctively at this point. Some would find it surprising to see just how carefully Homelander sets you down but to him it’s a no-brainer. You’re precious cargo. And even then, standing on your own legs doesn’t feel right after what you’ve been through.

You hang onto his frame. Your quivering limbs make you hazy. Your pussy trembles with the remnants of your previous orgasm and the one that could have been. “Thank you.” Mindlessly you lul your head against his chest, breathing out the words.

Homelander laughs. Rarely do you thank him for sex but it’s a good indicator of how thoroughly he melted your brain. He always enjoys the extra stroke of his ego. Even if things are precarious or falling apart you will always be here, ready to sing his praises in all the genres.

“Mhm, you’re very welcome.” He pinches your chin and brings you closer for a big kiss. He indulges in the lazy press of your lips to his and he keeps you there for long enough to really imprint the feel and taste of your lips into his own.

You gain some clarity back when you pull away.

“Come on, let’s get to bed.” He greedily squeezes your ass with a wicked look. How he still holds the same excitement for more amazes you. In comparison you feel like you’ve run a marathon. 

Plus there’s the whole thing with your breast milk coming in that you’ve yet to mention.

“I’ll meet you there in a minute. Just want to clean myself up.” You say offhandedly. Really you wanna wash the scent of sex off your body so nothing detracts from the sweetness of your milk. You want your surprise to be perfect.

“Don’t take too long.” You can just about hear him over the shower as he leaves the bathroom after drying himself off. 

As the time for your big reveal nears you feel the anxiety brew in your gut. You’ve been working on this for months. The last thing you need right now is for your body to fail you. Just the idea of this plan failing or worse—him hating it—leaves you your gut in knots.

No. No, you can’t stress yourself out. Your body needs peace, quiet and excitement. Positive thoughts and feelings. You will yourself instead to think of the reward, the payoff of seeing Homelander grateful, happy and relieved.

You massage your body and breasts with some unscented soap you keep around for times when Homelander is feeling particularly overstimulated with senses. You do your best to wash off both Homelander’s cum and your arousal. You want a clean slate.

Resetting your mind back to your nighttime ritual, your body untangles the knots of anxiety. You leave the shower calm and at peace. You take your time drying yourself off, blow-drying your hair to not make the sheets wet and finishing off with brushing your teeth. You’re taking an awful long time but there’s not been a moment when he’s not waited for the warmth of your body lulling him to sleep.

He can wait a little longer. 

You hang up both yours and Homelander’s towel—one he left on the counter—and you wrap yourself up in your favourite combo of particularly fluffy robe and slippers. Both are of great quality, courtesy of Homelander. The robe feels soft and warm against your bare skin and part of you dreads the short moment when you’re gonna need to take it off before sliding into bed. It’s one of the few things you’ve cared to enjoy the luxury of. The comfort is unmatched.

Same goes for bedsheets. You’ve told him before that albeit the satin sheets look fancy and expensive, they don’t provide the soft comfort of a loving home you’ve been trying to introduce him to. It’s a constant battle trying to warm up the cold museum-like quality of his living quarters. But alas, one swap at a time.

The path from the main bathroom to bedroom isn’t long but you’re still grateful for your fuzzy slippers. No need to get your feet cold if you can help it.

You finally make it to the bedroom, well, if you could even call it a room. It took a little while to get used to the sprawling open space of his penthouse. Nothing really felt enclosed and the idea of some Vought employees having full access to not just his penthouse but the very exposed sleeping quarters made you queasy.

“Took you long enough.” He’s already in bed, covered with a blanket from the waist down. He props himself up on his elbows, unashamedly looking you up and down. He raises his eyebrows, expectantly nodding at you to proceed. 

You untie your fluffy robe, sliding it off your shoulders. Immediately shivering as the cool air hits your skin. Vought could really heat this place better. You catch the thick fabric of your robe before it falls to the ground, draping it over the ottoman in front of the bed.

Homelander whistles and his lips stretch into a wide grin.

“You’re ridiculous.” You shake your head, smile tugging at your lips. 

“And you’re gorgeous.”

He’s different today. Something about the way he looks at you that brings back the boyish charm he had when he swept you off your feet for the first time. These days you see worry lines and furrowed brows adorning his features more often than not. Rarely does he come home happy. 

But now? He’s looking at you, bare to the world, with that twinkle in his eye, finding comfort and excitement in your presence.

“You’re gonna tease me any longer? Come on, come here already.” His tone makes you feel giddy, it’s exciting—especially knowing you’ve a little surprise of your own. It’s lucky he caught you in the shower today.

Usually he comes home late when you’re already in bed reading a book, waiting for him to seek out some much needed comfort. You cherish those moments too, but today’s excitement feels particularly rare. It gives you a preview into what life could be like if things were different. 

But just like the fantasy of peaceful family life you often feed him, this also feels like a temporary illusion, just waiting to give way for the gruesome reality you find yourself to be a bystander to. 

Still, you take it for what it is and throw yourself into bed, straight under the covers he lifts for you. You’re used to sleeping naked because of him. Homelander says the sound of mismatched fabrics rubbing up against one another is downright infuriating. But really, you see it for what is. Though you can’t deny that the occasional midnight romp or a morning quickie heats up a lot faster with no clothes in between. 

Homelander quickly pulls you in, already greedy for a kiss. Barely apart for a moment and he’s already ravenous. It makes you wonder how he manages without you the entire day. 

Your hands glide from his stomach, over his hairy chest and up and behind his neck. He kisses you in his signature possessive way. 

There’s barely any build up. He goes from a decent, soft press of his lips to eagerly licking yours open. His moans are needy, impressing themselves into your lips as he takes over your lips with deep, open-mouthed kisses. Chasing after you each time you move any other direction that’s not towards him.

The sudden change from a gentle kiss to a downright sloppy makeout session shocks you enough to lose your bearings. Not that you had many to begin with. Effortlessly, Homelander pushes your back flat to the mattress. The power you feel from such a simple push shocks a giggle out of you, sending a tingle down your spine in excitement.

He leans over you, propped up by his elbows and knees. While you thought he had plenty of excitement in the shower he seems to be just as riled up by this charged up energy surrounding you both tonight. You feel his cock, already half hard, pressed in between your bellies.

He kisses you with raw hunger, his deep kisses pulling sighs and moans out of you. Apart from his inexperience when it comes to innocent affection and love, he’s mastered the art of making you feel like he’s pulling you apart bit by bit with every kiss. 

He kisses the rest of your body with his hand. Sliding from your shoulder to your arm then to your hip and thigh, pulling on your leg to wrap it around his waist. Without a break in the kiss he swaps hands and treats your other leg in the same way. He settles himself firmly in between your legs, still too focused on your lips to move things further along. Though you’re very aware of the weight of his hefty cock.

Just when he’s letting your lips off the hook, finding his next victim in the soft skin of your neck, you glide your hand up the back of his head, pulling on his hair. You pull hard enough to earn both a moan and an inquisitive look in his eyes. This is not the energy he was expecting from you today.

“Slow down baby… I just… I need you to take it a little easy on me.” You mumble. The showertime shenanigans left you feeling a little sore and tender. Albeit good in the moment, your soft pussy easily aches and needs some gentle treatment from time to time.

He looks at you with this innocent puppy look and you feel a little bad for breaking his flow and making him feel like he did something wrong. He just hums and gives you a little nod. His ravenous kisses turn soft and sweet when your fingers scratch through his hair, giving him a glorious scalp massage.

“Could you keep me warm? Please?” He asks softly, an uncharacteristic trait that very few have gotten to see over the years. Without waiting for an answer he’s squeezing his cock at the base, little more than half hard now and steadily filling out as he gently guides the soft tip through your slit gathering the wetness on his cock.

“Mhm, of course. Be gentle, okay?” He almost whimpers at the approval as he presses the soft head of his cock into your pussy, guiding inch by inch into you. He’s not fully hard and that makes it easier on your tender tissue. The heft of him sits comfortably inside you, right in the space he has long carved out for himself. 

Your pussy softly pulses around him, not out of your own doing but just the pure instinct of having him inside you. It’s comforting. Intimate. Something you didn’t expect to become a favourite part of your nighttime routine.

Homelander keens as he settles into you, every instinct screaming at him to fuck you again. But the hand at the back of his head scratching at his hair makes him melt. The soft and warm touch almost matches the equally soothing warmth of your pussy and he happily lets you guide his head to your chest.

Homelander descends kisses upon the soft skin in between your breasts. It's instinctual at this point. His palm softly cups your left breast from the outer side. His lips ghost over the delicate skin of your breast, hot breath mapping his way across.

You feel your heart rate spike as his lips inch closer and closer to your nipple. The excitement coiling in your gut and partially souring into anxiety. The thoughts coming back to you again. What if he doesn't like it? 

He's desperate for the familiar comfort, his parted lips releasing a soft stuttered moan as he moves up to the peak. His cock twitches inside you as soon as his lips brush upon your nipple.

You watch with bated breath as Homelander finally wraps his lips around the hard bud. Your heartbeat is picking up speed as you watch him intently, hoping—no, praying—that your body won't disappoint you.

It happens quickly. He pulls away in shock, uttering a panicked, what the fuck, as he flattens both palms on either side of your body, pushing himself upright. 

“Ah! Oh fuck…a-ah…” You yelp out in shock followed by a pained stuttered moan as his hips push forward in shock. His cock goes fully hard in the moment, burying itself as deep as your pussy allows in a sharp and uncontrolled thrust.

His eyes turn from wild, panicked and confused to worried. “Fuck, sorry, sorry,” he whimpers, his body buzzing, vibrating with unspent energy. You watch as his tongue darts out, collecting a droplet from his lips as well as licking the entire surface area just in case he missed any.

As the immediate reminder hits his tongue his eyes flicker in between the droplet of milk beading on your nipple, and you. 

“W-what? How?” He scrunches his eyebrows before dipping his sight lower. For a second you think he’s looking at how deep his cock was in you.

“You're not pregnant. H-h-how?” He stutters, shaking his head in short bursts, squinting at you in confusion.

“Did you just look in my uterus?!”

“Stop avoiding the question.” 

His expectant gaze and the way it flickers in between your leaking nipple and your eyes has your gut twisting with anxiety. Was it too much after all? Did he not want this? 

“I…I just. Um, I just read up on some stuff. You don’t need to be pregnant for…well, for this to happen.” Your ears burn with embarrassment at being examined at such a deep level. You don’t want to upset him. The whole point of this was to make him feel good. Make him happy. Did you overthink this? Looked too much into it? “Stimulation, massages, all the stuff we do. It helps it happen.”

“Babe, I’ve been sucking on your tits for a while now. It hasn’t happened before.”

“I’ve been massaging them a lot throughout the days. It took a few months.”

“I didn’t notice you doing that.”

“You’ve been busy. Look if this is weird—” You can’t stand the awkwardness brewing in you like a storm, a feeling similar to sour burning bile making its way up your throat.

“—I should’ve noticed this…” Homelander interrupts you, his gaze now firmly with your leaking nipple. Absent-mindedly he licks his lips again, as if looking for any milky residue. ”You—umh, hah, you did this? You really did this just for… just for me?” His voice goes from level to wrecked in the span of a sentence.

His expression looks tortured, brows furrowed, lips parted. A little strangled gasp leaves him as he watches you tap your finger against your wet nipple. You bring the tip of your finger to his parted lips. With an anguished whine he purses his lips around the digit. Eyes fluttering shut as he wraps his lips around the tip properly and runs his tongue around it. 

His eyes snap open and meet yours when he pulls the finger out.

With another rushed movement his cock sharply thrusts into you again, forcing a pained little whimper out of you just as Homelander captures your lips. Your aching walls flutter around him with the rush his needy kiss brings. The heat of it blooms in your core. The anxiety dissipating and your gut untangling. 

“Sorry.” He mumbles into the kiss half-heartedly but he’s too preoccupied with pouring his love for you into the press of his lips against yours.

“I fucking love you.” He spat out in between kisses. Harsh and desperate. Rushing through the motion of the kiss and the words. Worried about the moment escaping him. He imprints the words ‘I love you’ in each kiss. The syllables are barely distinguishable with how closely he’s pressed your mouths together but you feel it. You feel it with each breath, sigh and whimper. 

You pull him away with a simple tug on his hair. He looks high and drunk on the feeling of it all. It’s been a while since you’ve seen him give into you this much. These days he was all about keeping a semblance of control and appearances. Some of that ended up translating into the bedroom and your relationship. While he still had his vulnerable moments with you it was easier to feel bulletproof when he kept up the same act all day and all night.

You nudge his head down, nodding down towards the breast he abandoned earlier. He’s careful with his movements this time. As he moves lower and settles himself on your sternum his cock moves inside you, but the gentle wet glide just pulls a sigh of content out of you this time around.

“It’s okay. Go on, you can have more. It’s for you.” You’re breathless, the anticipation is unreal. After the long prep, being able to see and feel Homelander nursing on your breasts feels like a dream come true.

He brings your breast in a little closer to his lips, already parted and gasping. He leads with his tongue, licking up the little rivulet that dripped out earlier. Carefully he flattens his tongue, dragging it up the tender skin. When he gets to your swollen and leaking bud his tongue gently slides back behind his lips and he wraps them around your nipple.

The feeling of your milk flowing into his mouth is surprisingly more intense than you expected to. You throw your head back on the pillow, exhaling with relief. His tongue presses against your nipple with each suck, lapping up the milk you produce for him and guiding it down his parched throat.

Homelander isn’t doing much better, his brows are furrowed and he’s almost whimpering with each suck. With each glorious, delicious drop he loses more and more composure. His thick eyelashes flutter and you can see the way his tenderness seeps out. Tears bead at his waterline, clumping his eyelashes together into a few thick strands.

Your pussy quivers around him with every press of his tongue and instinctively he softly grinds into you, following each throb of you, matching the rhythm of his sucks as his left hand clutches the side of your ribs while the other still supports your breast.

He’s breathing rapidly through his nose and you feel when with one, two, three strokes he unloads inside you. It happens in the matter of seconds. You knew just how intrinsically emotions played a role in his arousal and it was no surprise that he came with such little stimulation.

As if riding out the pulses and twitches of his cock he sucks harder. 

“Gentler honey…” You guided him, your nails gently scratching down his scalp. He hums affirmatively and he does soften the suction of his lips around your nipple.

You feel his cock soften inside you and you settle yourself a little more comfortably. Relaxing into the mattress, you continuously glide your hands through his hair even when you move him to the other breast.

It’s moments like these that get you appreciating the usually gaudy mirrors surrounding the bed from all angles. You tilt your head to the side and watch the side profile of Homelander indulging with little whimpers and mewls. 

You coo soft words, still comforting him with your fingers in his hair. And really, he’s as relaxed as he’s been in a while. And that makes it all worth it. You smile as you turn your head back and look up this time. The birds-eye view of the two of you feels like a painting. The blanket has been pushed down and bunched up around your bodies while Homelander keeps himself as close to you as possible. You watch the bob of his head as he suckles on your other nipple. You don’t even mind that he’s laying all of his weight on you.

You smile at yourself in the mirror, seeing your goal accomplished. You reach down to pull up the covers a little, keeping both of you cosy and warm. Leaning to the side to pluck the discarded blanket from the side of the bed you move your breast and Homelander’s head with you as if you were supporting a newborn baby’s head. 

Even though the blanket covers him halfway up his back, the mirror gives you a good view of the way he softly grinds his hips into you. It’s less to seek friction and more to just actively feel you around him. The wet glide of your pussy is heavenly and even if he’s not fucking into you with the intention of making either one of you finish, the feeling is still worthy of being indulged in. Like a good dessert.

You turn to humming. Nothing in particular. Songs that are stuck in your head. Or just a random melody of repeating tones. You enjoy the sight of Homelander looking peaceful. Choosing to live in the moment and be grateful for what you were able to achieve today.

You did that.

Homelander takes you out of your dreamy and happy, heart-soaring thoughts with a displeased whimper. He pulls away from your nipple with a kicked-puppy look that nearly has you chuckling. Just like a kitten his lips are covered with the milk residue, beading a droplet in the corner of his lips from when he was getting messy, mouthing at the nipple and your breast rather than just sucking peacefully.

“Sorry. I guess there’s not that much yet.”

“Don’t you fucking dare be sorry. You… you’re perfect.” He places a kiss in between your breasts and nuzzles his head in between the softness of them. “Thank you.” He sighs out quietly. He settles his head comfortably on your chest, his eyes falling shut with heaviness that comes after an exhausting day. 

You readjust your position a little so that he’s only partially lying on your chest, no longer suffocating you with his full weight. You hold his head close to you, enveloping him in a warm embrace as he swiftly dozes off.

You realize he never actually said what angered him today but at the end of the day it doesn’t matter. As long as you can keep him sated and happy, nothing else will ever matter. 

Taglist (you can add(or remove) yourself to be tagged when I publish a new fic):

@infinetlyforgotten | @rafecamsgirlll | @nervoussystemss | @hom3landr

@mrsdesade | @nommingonfood | @littlegaaby | @jokesonyoupup

@natliecole | @misatxox

[randomnotebookthoughts]

I’ll find you in every lifetime and love you more than the last time.

[bluerosefox]

Saying Sorry Will Never Be Enough

Feeling a bit angsty so I had this idea.

Danny is dating one of the Bats/Birds, and everything is going great, amazing even! They know each other secrets (from powers to everything etc), they have a wonderful place to live (even if its in Gotham), Danny is in college on the way to becoming a space engineer (and he does side jobs for unrestful ghosts), he's actually getting sleep again since leaving Amity Park, gets along with their friends and family (those who Danny or his partner still talk to, up to the writer), there is even talk about marriage and perhaps adoption/kids in the future between Danny and the Bat/Bird he's dating!

Everything is setting up for a good life in his future, something Danny didn't think could have after his accident. He was happy finally, and currently packing up his old apartment because he's moving in with his partner in a few days.

So he felt like his core was being pulled out of him when he opens his apartment door one day receiving a knock to find his parents, who had hadn't seen since they kicked him out of the house after coming clean about being Phantom (their words of anger and denial that their son was 'dead' and now a monster, still hurt)

Sure they didn't attack him or proclaim he's dead but still their last words and anger HURT.

Danny didn't give them a chance to open their mouths, both looking nervous and guilty, before he slams the door close and turns invisible, grabs his phone, and fly's out of his apartment to his partner's place in a panic attack.

His partner, isn't happy.

[thoughtsfromb4]

The Angel On My Shoulder Goes By The Name Of Death

Preface: For the last day of mental health month, I wanted to share something I wrote that deals with some rather dark struggles. Struggles that I know others face as well. Struggles that I hope might be eased for just one person who reads this, even if only in the smallest way.

There is an angel who sits upon my shoulder who goes by the name of Death,

And though I cannot always see him, upon my neck I always feel his breath

As he whispers to me relentlessly, deftly using my soul’s own Shibboleth.

He is my phantasmagorical companion from which there has thus far been no escape,

One who has no single voice nor form yet is somehow always horrific in his shape

When my mind’s eye sees him lying in the darkest shadows of my brain's path-illogical landscape.

For while it may be hidden, we are locked in eternal battle, one to which we both are bound,

And though the clashes rage on deep within, the fighting furious and yet without a sound,

The hardest part is not the fighting, it is not knowing if there will be any respite to be found.

This war is one without casualties but still with victims–its battles waged within the mind–

But even having entreated aid from all my demons with any values I could trade in kind,

I have yet to even dream of any type of peace accords to which we would both agree to bind.

But what I have paid in pain to learn in this seemingly Sisyphean struggle is that one cannot sit idly by,

That every new assault of his is an opportunity for me to learn new tactics which I can in future then apply.

Thus I have vowed: Whatever new mental munitions he has in store for me, nor what deadly schemes I must yet defy–

Though I know, like you, I too will one day meet my end, it shall be he who will be the first of us to die.

-- @thoughtsfromb4