#damsel premiere

[ladyworks]

𝑴𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒆 𝑩𝒐𝒃𝒃𝒚 𝑩𝒓𝒐𝒘𝒏; 𝒊𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒔.

𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒓𝒆𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒈 𝒊𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒔𝒂𝒗𝒆, 𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆. 💌

[disarmluna]

[anygpacks]

Any Gabrielly icons

Like or reblog if u save

[themeraldee]

The Lucky Winner

[Masterlist]

18+ Only | 8.5k | Homelander x fem!Reader | Pre-season 1. Voice kink. Oral sex. Unprotected sex.

Summary: You're a huge fan of Homelander but you always feel too awkward to ever meet your hero at a meet & greet or similar events. Your friends enter you into a Vought competition, where you've got a chance to win a phone call from Homelander himself.  

Author’s Note: My first Homelander fic! Also, this is the first time I’m publishing my work. Obligatory English isn’t my first language so apologies if there are any strange turns of phrase but I happily take on criticism so feel free to correct me. I want to get better! I’m also not very good with sticking to the right tense. This is very self-indulgent so read with caution. 

You can’t decide whether to hug or strangle your friends. They’re trying to be nice, you get that. But this goes against everything you’d ever do! Lovely as they are, they’ve entered you into a competition to meet your hero. To meet Homelander. The thought alone makes your head spin, your heart pound and stomach twist on itself.

‘It was just 20 bucks, what’s the worst that can happen? You win?’ Reads your friend’s message. You roll your eyes, hearing the teasing tone in your head. They know about your not-so-hidden obsession and at the end of the day they just wanted to brighten their friends day.

And sure, you are a fan. Okay, fine. You’re a big fan. Obsessed even. Every-wall-of-your-bedroom adorned-with-posters-and-promotional-materials obsessed. But you don’t want to appear like that. Last thing you’d want to come across as to your idol, you hero, is an annoying screeching fan begging for his attention.

You don’t want to be part of the crowds pawing at him, inching as close as they can just to graze his uniform with their fingertips. You don’t want to look like a feral fan. You have manners. You don’t want to be just another face, just another adoring fan begging for him to look your way. It’s hard to admit to yourself that you’ll never be more than a fan. So you don’t go to meet & greets. You don’t go to premieres. You don’t pay exorbitant fees just to meet your hero.

You’re a romantic at heart. You always imagine the first meeting to be one for the books. Maybe he saves you from a burning building flying you down, his stars and stripes billowing in the wind as he looks at you with concern etched into his handsome face, his piercing blue eyes scanning you for injuries as he talks to you with a soothing rumbling tone that sends shivers down your spine. You can clearly imagine him going, Are you okay miss?, as he descends to the ground. Or you just happen to bump into each other but he catches you with his strong arms and fast reflexes and just like that it’s love at first sight. Scenarios after scenarios. All varieties of ‘meet-cute’s play in your head on a daily basis. You spend your time getting lost in your head, dreaming of the day when it will be your turn to be the protagonist of the story. When will you be the damsel in distress? But you sigh and move on with life, because this isn’t a romance novel.

Or at least, that’s what you tell yourself (and others) when people ask you why you haven't tried to meet your hero. 

Oh I just don’t want to be a weird obsessive fan. Plus it’s expensive!

Meeting heroes is technically easy. Vought gives people many opportunities to see their heroes for a pretty penny. They parade their heroes around like exotic animals in a zoo on a daily basis. 

For you the reality is that you simply can’t handle seeing your hero up close and personal, let alone talk to him. How are you not meant to get flustered in front of what you considered to be perfection? How are you meant to find your words or even come up with words worthy of being uttered in his presence? You’re meant to look into his eyes, tell him how much of a fan you are and not fluster and burst into tears from the anxiety coiling in your gut as you wait your turn? 

You don’t want that. You don’t want to be just another babbling fan. You want to stand out. You want him to remember you. You want him to think about you.  But you’re also a realist and you know that at most he’ll think you just another annoying fangirl if he even grants you a passing thought. So you spare yourself those hurt feelings and you avoid meet & greets, you avoid all the fan-targeted conventions, events, promotional campaigns or competitions. 

Or you always have. Until now it seems. You again scroll up in the group chat where your friends surprised you with an entry to the newest competition Vought advertised. It was presented as a fundraiser. All proceeds are planned to be donated to Samaritan’s Embrace. A simple $20 entry that would grant you a chance to be one of five lucky winners to get a personal phone call from Homelander. 

A fat chance of that, you thought when you first saw the competition announced on both Vought’s and Homelander’s twitter accounts. With a competition that invites Homelander's country-wide fanbase, there really is no chance of you winning. You half-comfort yourself with that thought. You don’t know where you’d even start should you win. Part of you thinks that maybe ‘meeting’ him over the phone could be bearable as he wouldn’t be able to witness just how badly you’re holding it together.

But then you think back to all the videos you’ve watched. The reels and the tiktoks you’ve saved. The podcasts and interviews that at this point you play almost religiously. He's perfect in every way but you're particularly fond of his voice just rumbling in your ear when it gets nice and low as he talks in lengths about the upcoming movie or his most recent save. A while back you bought yourself a decent set of noise-cancelling headphones with great audio quality and suddenly it felt like he was right behind you just purring into your ears. Very few interviews record with good enough microphones to capture how mesmerising his voice is but those that do get saved and played on repeat sending shivers down your spine, following you to bed and invading your dreams. So no, maybe a phone call wouldn’t make the experience any easier on your poor heart. 

You calm down after the initial panic reaffirming yourself with the reality where there’s no chance that you’ll get picked anyway. You text your friends again, kindly thanking them for thinking of you as you shook your head with an amused smile. That’s that done and forgotten about.

Or so you think. Few weeks down the line the mental discourse has long left your mind. The conversation moves on and your friends don’t mention anything since. That’s why it’s no surprise when you pick up the unknown call after the third ring with ease, casually answering with, “Hello, Y/N speaking.” 

Homelander looks through the list of winners Ashley brought to his desk with a scowl on his face. He’s grumpy, having to jump through everyone’s hoops is grating on him, slowly chipping away at his showmanship armour. This is just another nail in the coffin. Now he has to make private phone calls?

He wants to be revered, loved. With people bending over backwards just to get his attention. Sure, that’s right up his alley. Get the crowds to scream his name, be grateful for his divine presence. What he isn’t a fan of is making others think they’re special. He’s the special one. Where does Vought get off thinking that he’s got the time to call and visit his fans one-on-one.

He rolls his eyes looking through the unimpressive line-up that Vought carefully curated. One of each demographic, trying to hit all the targets Vought wants him to improve his numbers with.

Each candidate has a sheet of talking points assigned to them, things to highlight, mention or even promote to each one of the fans. Normally Homelander would throw Vought’s carefully crafted response straight back to their faces but right now he’s not in the slightest interested in being clever or the fans' idea of ‘authentic’ so he’d rather rattle off a few lines from a curated list of party lines. At the end of the day he doesn’t care for this. Talking to five individual fans doesn’t help him in the grand scheme of things. This isn’t happening in public, there’s no one here to witness his generosity. Nobody to witness a god, looking down and gracing his followers with his benevolence.

Vought believes the individual approach will be worth it in the long run. That apparently fans will come running to any future events and competitions seeing as real people they might know have won in the past. All Homelander sees is at most five twitter mentions from a few nobodys.

He’s got about an hour in the calendar to get through all of these. Though he's banking on this taking a lot less time. There are many more important things he could be doing instead. 

He flips through the files again, each profile is filled out with a name, number and a photo, deciding on the least painful order. A young boy, an elderly woman, a middle aged comic enthusiast, some punk teenager and you. Homelander looks at your profile with mild interest. You’re the only one who Vought didn’t manage to find a good quality recent photo of. Clearly you don’t do social media. Yet the quality doesn’t take away from the intrigue your profile inspired. You’re easily the most interesting in the list but that’s not that hard to do. Still, Homelander puts yours at the end of the list. Saving the best for last.

“Hellooo and congratulations! This is Homelander and you’re one of the few lucky cookies who get to have a little chit chat with me.” All air gets sucked out of your lungs and the ease with which you picked up the phone is gone. Your eyes widen, breath caught in your throat only coming out in confused little stutters. This isn’t real. It can’t be!

Whether it’s a particularly vivid dream or your world is actually turning upside down you’re glad this happened at home. Your knees buckle, your ass landing straight on your bed, your legs trembling with nervous energy as you sit down.

“W-what?” You manage to blurt out, more breathy than not. Your heart is pounding like never before. You wouldn’t be surprised if he can hear it over the phone, it feels loud to your ears.

“The competition? You entered, right?” His voice. His fucking voice was right in your ear and you felt like melting into a puddle of goo. Anything to spare you the embarrassing words that are surely about to come out of your mouth one way or another.

“Oh… um…” You are blowing it. There’s no other word for it. Totally embarrassing yourself. Not able to say a word, still trying to calm your heart down.

“Are you not a fan? Have I got the wrong number–?”

“N-no no! No…I mean yes. I mean sorry…fuck.” You are totally losing it. The hand holding your phone is shaking with nervous energy. 

“Hey hey hey…. Come on now. Take it easy. Now take a deep breath aaand relax.” His voice is rich and sweet like honey, just like you’ve heard on TV but here it feels intimate. Just for you. He’s not talking to anybody else. As he hears your stuttered intake of breath and a mildly calmed exhale he coos again. “That’s it. Breathe with me. Now in.” If only he knew that this is making things so much worse for you. “And out.” 

“I’m so sorry. I meant to say, I am a fan but I don’t do this.” Your voice still trembles with each word but you’re a little more composed. 

“What? Call people?” You can hear the smirk in his voice, he's clearly pleased with his little joke. 

“No.” You can’t help yourself but chuckle, your lips spreading in a wide grin. Your heart is still pounding but it’s more excitement than embarrassment. You’re actually talking to Homelander. And you have already embarrassed yourself beyond belief but he’s still here! He’s still talking to you. He doesn’t even sound upset. “I mean I don’t meet you guys. Heroes. I don’t really know how to do this. I mean I pretty much live on your doorstep and I’ve never met either one of you.” Now that he calmed you down, getting you talking, you can’t stop talking. 

“Really? Some fan you are.” Were you of a sound mind you’d hear the joke but now all you could think is that you’ve upset him. And you can’t have him think that. Sure you’ve always wanted to stand out but not in a negative way! You take it to heart and you apologize.

“I’m so sorry. I don’t mean to offend. At all! Really! It’s just, you don’t need another person begging for an autograph that they can brag with to their friends or sell online for a quick buck.” 

He exhales a little breathy laugh that has your whole body flush hot. “Oh, aren’t you adorable.” The panic that was inflating in you like a hot air balloon finally fizzled out. Instead it’s replaced by a throbbing heat in between your legs and you place your free hand over your heart, almost trying to will your body into behaving normally. “You know if you want I can send you some, would be a shame for such a sweet fan to not have anything personalised. I’ll sign it with your name.” He offers, a nice gesture, really, but you are currently having a whole body meltdown to even appreciate it for what it was.

“O-oh,that isn’t—You don’t have to—” 

He continues nonetheless. 

“Y/N, is it? Beautiful name.” Your name rolls off his tongue perfectly, all soothing and sweet. And there you go, melting into a puddle just for him. 

“You don’t have to be nervous. I don’t bite. At least, not over the phone.” You let your hand trail down your body. He’s just talking. He’s just making jokes. He’s just trying to strike up a conversation to make such a freaked out fan of his a little calmer and there you are getting your rocks off on this. 

“Sorry. It’s hard not to be. I’ve been a fan of yours for a long while. I didn’t expect I’d ever get to talk to you. It’s kind of you to do things like this for us fans. I’m sure you’re busy. Thank you for taking the time.” You distract yourself from the throbbing that’s just calling for your hand to settle heavily in between your shaking thighs. 

“Oh no problem. Wouldn’t be where I am if it wasn’t for all my loyal fans, right?” You should really stop moving your hand down your body. But you can’t help the effect he has on you, you’re not acting normal! 

“I don’t know. I don’t think it’s the fame that makes you special. It’s you.” You breathe you all dreamy before realising this isn’t just one of your fantasies. No. You really are talking to Homelander. You cough a little, pretending like you had something stuck in your throat. 

“It is?”

“I think so. Change into civilian clothing and I’m sure you’ll still be turning heads.” You speak normally now but you bite your lip at the end, your hand now just above your pubic bone. 

“Sounds like you’ve thought about this plenty.” Oh, of course you have. Your body is screaming at you to take the plunge, to slip your hand down your panties, and make yourself feel like this is more than just a friendly fan call. But your mind is, correctly, telling you that this is beyond inappropriate. 

“Ah no! I just mean that you’re perfect at what you do. There’s nobody like you. Noone could take your spot. So it’s more than just fans.” You’re surprised you’re still carrying on. You feel like your brain is turning into mush with each word he’s saying. 

“What can I say? I take my job very seriously.” He goes on to talk about being a leader of the Seven, you guess he’s just trying to fill space seeing as you’re such a blubbering mess. Even with all his efforts at making this normal, your brain turns all the innocent words into the filthiest dirty talk.

“Look, I’d love to talk to you some more but I’m afraid I’ll have to end it there. I’m late for a talk show interview.” You retract your hand as if it got burnt and instead you grab onto the comforter you’re sitting on, stopping yourself from doing anything impulsive. 

“O-of course.” Your heart rate is elevated again, something about the thought of him leaving and you never getting the chance to speak to him again makes you want to scream. 

“Tell you what, I don’t want to be unfair to you. You hardly got your prize. I’ll call you later. You free in the evening?” 

“Y-yes.”

“Perfect.” 

Perfect. You’re fucking perfect. Homelander can’t stop the way his lips stretch into a predatory grin. You are exactly what a fan should be like. Swooning over him. Grateful that he’s even bothering to grace you with his presence. You were practically kneeling, bent over before him on the floor, kissing his feet as he gave you a taste of his divine presence. He has half a mind to take care of the uncomfortable hard-on pressing into his rigid suit. He couldn’t help himself when you were being such a sweet little thing. He feels no remorse at having rubbed himself through his suit as you were there on the other side of the phone, undeniably shaking in excitement, all flustered and tense and most certainly aroused. But no, he wants to wait his turn. He needs the real thing. He’s not planning on letting you go that easy.

Originally he was pissed that most of his time on the phone was taken up by the elderly woman who was talking his ear off. Now he’s thinking about sending her a gift basket. He has a real excuse to see you. 

When Homelander wants something he’s like a hunter, doing everything he can to lure his prey into his trap. In this case he abuses his powers to get the Crime Analytics team to dig up your address and in the meanwhile he sits through a mind-numbingly boring interview at a low-tier talk show he really shouldn’t need to waste his time on. 

The only thing that keeps him going is the thought that you might be watching. You seem like a big fan. You surely wouldn’t dare miss out on his live appearances. The thought alone gives him enough drive to not laser through the talk show host everytime she asks a stupid question and instead he imagines he’s speaking straight to you.

When the show is over he takes off before his team can steer him towards another boring chore. No, he has more pressing matters to attend to. Like any good predator he observes. He waits until it’s the right time to strike. That’s why he’s perched at the top of the building that’s opposite yours. He’s got a clear line of sight to your apartment but he’s careful in making sure you can’t see him. 

He watches, his grin reappearing every damn time he sees you reach your phone, checking if your ringer is on for the tenth time. You are an easy target, he can swoop in anytime and sweep you off your feet but he wants it to be perfect. With sick fascination he keeps watching you, your behaviours and patterns as you pace around your room trying to preoccupy your mind with mindless thoughts. He knows that nothing you do can now fill the void that he left behind. What else can replace the purr of his voice in your ear, soothing and exciting you at the same time. Nothing. There’s nobody like him. You said it yourself.

An hour of self-indulgent watching later he decides to end your misery. You just look so upset and disappointed and he knows you’ll just melt in his presence. He needs to be close to you. He got a little sprinkle of what you're like over the phone and now he’s got a craving for the real thing. He needs to feel you, smell you, hear your poor heart trying to keep up with the excitement right in his ear.

So with a quick drop he descends.

The day has gone by torturously slow for you. You spend every minute checking your phone in case your ringer randomly fails you and you won’t catch the second call from Homelander. Just thinking that makes your thighs quiver. The thought of having him purr into your ear any longer wets your panties all over again. But over the coming hours your enthusiasm deflates. It’s getting late and your chances of ever getting a call back are low. 

You emerge from the bathroom, fresh and clean, in your pyjamas ready to sleep today’s rollercoaster of emotions away. Or you would be if it wasn’t for a knock at your balcony door interrupting your thoughts and making you flinch in surprise. The flash of red and blue still so vibrant and colourful against the midnight sky has your breath catching in your throat. What the fuck?!

You open the balcony door in shock, and if you had the strength to do so you would have ripped it off its hinges with pure eagerness. There he is in all his patriotic glory. Homelander. A wide grin on his face, posture ramrod straight as he clasps his gloved hands behind his back, puffing his chest out.

“H-Homelander?!” Your voice quivers at the proximity, your heart picks up speed again and you feel your entire body flush both in embarrassment and excitement. Your first thought goes to how you currently look rather than questioning his motives or how he even found where you live in the first place. 

Trying to regain your composure you shake your head, blinking as if he was just a figment of your imagination. Maybe your devout obsession with him is finally damaging your mental state, making you hallucinate.

“Good evening, Y/N.” God, how does he do that! The way your name slips off his tongue so easily, with such familiarity makes you clench and part your lips with a gasp. Any sort of composure you’ve regained crumbling to dust. Now you are just awkwardly gawking, in awe at the unreal figure in front of you, in the flesh. Homelander doesn’t wait to be invited in, strutting into your modest apartment like it belongs to him, the confident strides of his red boots loud and heavy against the creaky floor of your apartment. He takes up the living space confidently, somehow making you feel like you don't belong in your own space. His presence took priority, anything else secondary—you included. 

“How did you—” Your question of how he found where you live doesn’t even get fully asked, let alone answered. He cuts in, not actually caring about your justified worry over having your address handed out willy-nilly. 

“Our call was a bit too short to my liking. You don’t mind a little late-night visit, do you?” You feel disarmed. His voice turns gravelly, lowering with each word. His tone teasing as if he was telling you a secret, so unlike his television persona where he’s all American apple pie values and open arms with clear intentions. Here, he grinned widely—all teeth with his sharp canines bared to you like the predator he is. Like you’re his next meal. “Ohohoo, would you look at this. Maybe you are my biggest fan, huh?” 

You are distracted by his voice, his presence, just him that you fail to notice his eyes wandering around your apartment. Your face flushes red in embarrassment as you see him assessing your safe space, or what felt like your safe space before this ambush, all with an amused grin on his face. 

“These are all limited edition. Must have cost you a small fortune.” Holding a breath you watch him take his gloves off one by one, placing the leather on your table with a soft thwack. It feels forbidden, not meant for your eyes. The public doesn’t get to see Homelander as anything other than perfect. His image manicured, perfected to the tiniest details. Seeing his surprisingly elegant bare hands, this up close feels intimate yet threatening like he’s unsheathed his sword, revealing one of the many hidden weapons he can use against you. 

You watch as he brushes his fingers against limited edition action figurines, box sets, posters and trinkets featuring his likeness or the logo emblem Vought associates with him. If it was anyone else you’d tell them to keep their paws away from your most prized possessions but it's Homelander. Who else gets the right to touch special limited edition merchandise of his own likeness? 

You watch as he paces the room with an unreadable expression. The embarrassment you feel transforms into an apology, heavy on your tongue as you force your mouth open, letting your shame out into the world. It’s hard not to feel overwhelmed in his presence.

“I-I’m sorry.” 

“You’re sorry?” He turns his head over his shoulder with a curious expression. A swoop of his blonde hair handsomely falling into his face. He puts down one of the figurines he picked up earlier as he scouted the area. 

“All this stuff.” You wave your hand around, the grand display of what can only be described as the Church of Homelander, a shrine dedicated to his divine existence. You see how it looks, how it makes you look like a rabid fan. Though you’re anything but. “I know it’s a little strange. I don’t want to make you feel like a museum piece. Or-or-or a circus animal! I just admire you. A lot.”

“You do?” 

“I do.” Your breath catches in your throat as he turns around fully, facing you head on, one slow step inching towards you at a time. You gulp, feeling like you’re left in the dark regarding his intentions as you hopelessly struggle to read him. On the opposite spectrum you’re there, an open book, your heart on your sleeve, your every thought written so clearly on your face you may as well give him your diary to flip through. “More than anything.” Breathlessly you add, meeting his eyes as a challenge. You’re devout, as loyal as it gets. You’d do anything for him if he asked.

Homelander rises to your mental challenge with a grin so sharp you feel the metaphorical bite coming before he even opens his mouth as he steps closer. He’s so close now. Any ordinary man could feel the thud of your heartbeat, but to his keen senses it’s a war drum and he’s marching to a battle he’s already won. His bare, elegant hands make their way to your jaw caressing it with a surprising gentleness. You flinch. Even though you watched it happen with wide eyes, you didn’t expect his hands to leave you unmarred. You almost expect your skin to sizzle, unworthy of his divine touch.  

Homelander’s grin disappears, his tongue gliding along his teeth as if he’s cleaning them before he devours his next meal. All that leaves you is a little whimper before he pulls you in, his hands thrumming with incomprehensible strength as he kisses you. He kisses the air out of your lungs as if you could survive without it like he can. As if you could meet him in the middle. But dammit you do your best to. He’s a passionate kisser, incapable of sticking to soft kisses. No, he devours. He licks your lips open, his tongue gliding along yours. You brace your hands against his chest, already feeling weak in the knees. The heat of his breath and the wetness of his tongue in your mouth is nothing compared to how hot and wet you feel in your panties.

It doesn’t help that he’s vocal. You kiss him harder anytime he growls or moans into your lips, his voice vibrating against your lips just possessing you more. And soon it turns into a game of who can dish it out harder. Each devoted kiss makes him hum and purr which in turn melts you into a pile of goo, making you kiss him harder. Your lips feel hot, swollen from the ferocious kissing. You’re nearing the limit of what your lungs can manage without resurfacing for air.

Homelander pulls away but he doesn’t give you any time to recover. As if you could. How do you recover from that? Instead he’s adamant about making your heartbeat hit record heights. His hands glide down your body, featherlight touches that make your skin break out into goosebumps as he settles on your hips, trailing the waistband of your pants. His pink wet lips spread into another predatory smile and before you know it he leans closer to your ear, practically purring, “Tell me, if I take these off will I find you wearing Homelander panties too?” 

Flustered squeak escapes you as he laughs wholeheartedly at your embarrassment. You know he knows. He’s teasing you for a reason. “They’re comfortable.” You eventually grumble, pouting like a child getting caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

“I bet they are.” He sinks down to one knee, his hands taking the waistband of your pants with him as he pulls them down over your thighs, letting the fabric pool by your ankles. He pats your ankle, prompting you to step out of them. You comply, kicking the fabric away earning a little word of praise from him. “Attagirl.” You’re visibly trembling as he kneels in front of you, his eyes locked on the sight of your blue panties with his emblem and name right across the middle in gold, all accentuated by a red trim. It would be far from sexy in any other circumstance but he purrs at the sight. All pleased like the cat that got the cream. “Got my name across your pussy all day long?” 

Before you could react like any other person would, he hooked one of your legs over his shoulder. You yelp, losing your balance trying to grab onto his head or shoulders for support but he puts his arm on your back, sliding it right under your top keeping you straight and secure whether you want it or not. You’re not leaving until he says so. “Might as well fucking taste it seeing as it’s already mine, don’t you think?” He gives you a hungry look licking his lips before hoisting your other leg over his shoulder, standing up with ease. He walks you back against a wall as he eagerly inhales the scent of you, his head perfectly in between your warm thighs. 

“Woah!” You stabilise yourself, finally having more surface to lean against. The fabric of your top glides along the surface of the glossy posters he has you pressed against. Making you the centerpiece, surrounding you with his likeness. You finally process what the fuck is happening as you feel his nose pressing into the soaked fabric of your panties. “Homelander! Y-you….ohh…” You whimper, your hands automatically finding comfort and safety in between his golden locks. 

“Fuck you smell good.” Homelander growls, his hands now on your ass, holding you in place as he sticks his tongue out, pressing it wetly over your soaked panties. The taste of you already coating all his taste buds.

“O-oh fffuuck. OH god…yes…yes please.” You don’t stop yourself from moaning freely, the time for embarrassment long gone as Homelander lifts one hand from your ass, impatiently pulling the fabric of your Homelander panties to the side, his tongue already slipping in for a taste before his hand even makes it back to squeeze your ass. “Taste just as fucking good.” His voice strained, uttering filth in between your thighs.

His thick tongue pushes through the slit of your weeping pussy, lapping up what you’ve so graciously prepared just for him. And as you watch a mop of blonde hair greedily slurp at your wetness like he’s parched, you think back to the fantasies that drove you to orgasm after orgasm as the imaginary Homelander ate your pussy. 

Well, for one the real thing is a lot more enthusiastic than you ever imagined him to be. He is sucking on your clit in rhythm that has you throb harder, making your toes curl. “Ohhh, Homelander!” You reward him with a loud moan of his name, like a prayer on your lips. And you repeat it with each masterful lick around your clit that has you squirming in his hold, legs quivering around his head, fingers tugging at his hair.

The second thing you never considered was how much his powers would come into play. Here he is with a deathly strong iron grip around your ass, easily holding you up on his shoulders against the wall while pushing you as close into his face as he can. The thought of not being able to escape his grip exhilarates you as much as it terrifies you. His lack of need for air makes him a perfect devout lover. Because this is pure devotion except it seems he forgot who was meant to worship who.

You’d be embarrassed by the obscene sounds you two are making if it didn’t feel so good. You moan for him prettily as he licks up all the wetness he’s coaxing out of you. You breath hitches as you feel your orgasm building. He's consistent, giving you just the right pressure. Homelander looks up at you, eyes glassy and blown back with lust before he swiftly repositions you, needing just one arm to make you feel weightless yet secure in his hold as he takes his free hand plunging two fingers into you revelling in the feeling of your cunt clenching around him.

“Oh there there there! Ahhh!” You guide him, his fingers pumping into you and with his tongue still working magic on your clit you whimper out, “oh fuck, I’m gonna, I’m gonna–.” You fall apart in his arms, cumming on Homelander’s tongue like you’ve imagined many times over. With you thrashing around you rip the poster right behind you unaware of the mess you’re leaving behind. He licks you through the waves crashing through you. He’s smug, you can feel the smirk against your pussy as he gives it one more kiss before easily slipping you off his shoulders, preening with satisfaction. “Mhmm you did so good.” His voice purred and even in your post-orgasm haze you flush with fresh heat at the praise.

He gives you time to compose yourself but you don’t want it. You want him. You need him. Your legs feel like jelly so you immediately sink to your knees, nuzzling your face into his crotch. Too eager to wait. Homelander cooed at your enthusiasm, “Look at that. Didn’t even have to tell you.” He chuckles, voice thick with lust, his lips and chin still glistening from the way he feasted on you.

Wobbly and out of your mind, you reach for his belt, unable to figure out how to unclasp it, your dexterity not quite there either to be able to wiggle the hem of his pants underneath it and pull them down.

You look up at him with the face of a kitten that’s not getting what it wants. Pouting and pleading for help. 

“Christ, let me help you with that.” Homelander unclasps his belt, letting it hit the floor with a loud and heavy clang and the thought of it denting the cheap flooring doesn’t even graze your mind. He unzips his pants and the hiss alone makes your mouth water. He pushes his pants a little lower and you stare wide eyed at where his thematically red briefs are tented, his cock throbbing and leaking pre-cum into the thin fabric.

Okay, this you can do. Your hands slide up his thighs, getting a little feel of the bare skin of his thighs. Unmarred, smooth and hot. Your hand briefly squeezes around his cock through his briefs, forcing Homelander to hiss through his teeth. You pull down his briefs, bunching them down with the thick fabric of his suit. 

You try not to stare and drool but you’ve imagined his cock in your dreams and fantasies so many times that seeing it in real life just kind of blows your fucking mind. It’s perfect. A bit longer than average but especially nice and thick. You lick your lips in anticipation. His hand rests on the back of your head, giving your hair a tug.

“You gonna keep staring or will you put those pretty lips to work?” His gruff tone tears you from the haze. 

You blush, being caught staring. Wanting to please your hero you apologize, “sorry, it’s just so perfect. You’re perfect.” You breathe out in pure adoration. 

“Come on then, be a good girl and open up for your hero. I want my cock wet before I slide it into that needy pussy.” He looks down at you with a sharp smile, his other hand rests on your jaw before moving up squeezing the hollow of your cheeks, forcing your mouth open. Not that he has to, you’re more than willing to deliver. You open wider, making his hand withdraw as you take matter into your own hands. Literally. You grip the base of his cock, feeling how hefty and hot it feels. It hits you in that moment that you’re holding Homelander’s cock. Fuck. You’re gonna be dreaming of this moment for years to come.

You look up, giving him one more doe-eyed look before you stick your tongue out easing the swollen red head in between your lips. The salty, musky taste of his pre-cum on your tongue makes you whimper, your eyebrows furrow with concentration as you focus on banking the memory of his taste in your head. Eagerly you get right into it. Down and dirty. You focus on him, coating him with an ungodly amount of saliva until anytime you pop off him you’re followed by strings of it connecting you two. His grunts and heavy breaths just urge you to do better. So you take him deeper, slurping around the saliva you've made for him, bobbing your head up and down.

You nearly lose your rhythm when he lets out such a needy wanton moan, making your pussy throb.

“Thaaat’s it, come on—fuck!—deeper, yeah yeaahh you got it sweetheart. God fuck that’s fucking it.” He’s nearly whimpering, so lost in the sensation. And you're eating it up. Each whimper and word goes straight to your pussy and at this point you wouldn't be surprised if you were making a puddle on the floor.

His hand forces your head down deeper and you gag, choking around him as for a second your nose bumps the neat thatch of hair above his cock. He's not easily dissuaded and he pushes again, a little softer this time. You almost feel the tremble of his hands, he's so close to unravelling. Just for you. The swell of pride pushes you forward and you take him deeper. He takes the chance to push both hands into your hair as he starts fucking your face.

“Take it. Take it.” He grunts, his voice more and more broken with every thrust. You're just about to push his thighs back, attempting to fight against his unyielding force but his hips stutter and he groans, letting out broken moans as he spills on your tongue.

As if on command you swallow and he pulls out, wiping the residual dribbles of cum on your lips. Now that he’s done you realise just how fucking badly your jaw aches. You whimper at the ache of your jaw and the ache between your legs. 

You’re still kneeling on the floor, a picture of pure devotion, with your mouth messy and lips swollen. He grumbles at the picture in front of him. He pulls you up by your hair, kissing the taste of himself out of your lips. You can still taste your pussy on his lips and tongue as he shoves it into your mouth. “Bed?” He's somehow more than ready to continue and mentally you add his extraordinary refractory period to the list of his many talents. 

You nod a broken, “y-yeah, this way,” the taste of him still heavy on your tongue as you lead him to your bedroom.

He lets out a little chuckle at the state of your bedroom, just as decorated with his brand as was the rest of your apartment. “Fuck me, you really are my biggest fan.” 

You’re about to apologize, again, and he can read you like an open book already shushing you. “Shh, don’t say it. C’mere, take this off instead. Want to see you.” He tugs at your top, wanting you to take it off. Like unwrapping a present. You let out a few breathless ‘okay’s and pull the top over your head baring your entire body to him, save for the panties that were still uncomfortably pushed to the side. He clearly wants you to keep them on and you’re not sure whether that’s his narcissism or possessiveness talking. You don’t dare comment on the fact that he’s still fully dressed. You’re not gonna start demanding things from the Homelander now are you? 

With a step closer he purrs, pushing you to the bed intensely watching as your tits bounce when your back hits the comforter. He follows as he lays over the top of you but he doesn't look at you. He picks up the grimacing Homelander plushie he sees on your pillow— the one that's predominantly advertised to kids. He holds it up for you to see with a raised eyebrow, the look almost condescending. “What? They make no other official plushies!” You defend yourself. 

“Is there anything you don't have?” 

You don't know what possessed you to answer, “yeah, you,” but Homelander eats it right up as he grins at you.

“Cheeky slut. Well you're about to. On your side.” He says sliding off you to rest on his side looking you up and down hungrily. You’re clearly surprised at his choice of position and he grumbles with annoyance as you take forever to move the way he wants you to. His impatience gets the best of him and he effortlessly manipulates you to your side, slotting right behind you. Homelander grips your inner thigh lifting your leg a little higher, as he nestles his cock right against your wet cunt.

You sigh with partial relief, feeling him solid against you feels good. Feeling him inside you would feel even better. “Jesus, you're still so fucking wet.” 

“It's all your fault.” You whimper trying to wiggle in his unyielding hold. He just tuts at you gripping you tighter, cusping on pain.

He pulls you close, his cock sliding in between your slit, immediately getting the top of his cock wet. His lips trail up your jaw until he reaches your ear. He growls, low and sexy, nipping at the sensitive skin of your ear. Your heart skips a beat, your pussy throbs as the sound of him just ripples through you. 

“Maybe it is. You know, I've been thinking. You're such a nervous little thing.” He grinds his hips into you, dragging his cock back and forth, teasing you. His voice got quiet, dropping a register lower. All slow and drawled out he continues rumbling in your ear clearly aware of what it's doing to you. “You were beside yourself when I called you. So there I am thinking nobody gets that nervous, not unless they’re trying to hide how fucking turned on they are.” He keeps fucking talking and talking, making you shiver to the point where you feel goosebumps rise all over you. Your breath ragged, your eyes fluttering shut.

You're starting to understand why he was particular about this position. After all, he could read you like a book from the get go.

“At first I thought it was just me because you're such a big fan.” He coos in a condescending tone. He licks the outer edge of your ear and you shriek, thrashing in his uncompromising hold. “But no no nooo. It's not that. Because everytime I spoke, your heartbeat sped up. You know, I was worried about you there for a minute. Then there was your pussy. You get so wet the air is thick with it. I can't even fucking breathe without tasting your sweet cunt.” You let out a broken sound, close to a sob, you pussy throbbing so hard he must feel it even without being inside you. You didn't even consider that his senses can easily sniff your secret out.

He’s still rubbing his cock in between your folds, sliding the whole length of it up and down. It’s slick and loud and so good and holy shit your clit is burning from the way his head catches on it with every thrust. You're so close and your body is on fire. You so desperately want to cum with something inside you but he’s cruel. He's not gonna give it to you just yet. “And look at that, you're still getting wetter. They do say it's always the unassuming ones.” He chuckles into your ear, low and vibrating against you.

“Is that it? Do you get off to the sound of my voice? Do you watch videos of me, listening to interviews while you finger your little pussy?” He's going harder, the wet sound of your pussy slicking his way in between your slit is deafening, embarrassingly loud. “Tell me.” The little command growls in your ear and you force your lips open.

“Y-yes! Yes….I-I find your voice sexy.” You admit to your little shameful secret. You admit that one of the reasons you never met him was because you didn't want to get sopping wet in a crowd full of screaming fans. “Don't stop, please.” You moan out, quiet and broken, your embarrassment making way to pure pleasure. Now that it's out in the open, what is there to hide?

“Do you even care what I say? Huh? I could be reading out the fucking phone book and your pussy would still get wet. Greedy little thing. What’s it gonna be? You gonna cum to my voice or are you gonna be difficult?” You're burning hot, your body so so tense, the leg he's hitched up a little trembling against his strong grip. His cock is still hitting your clit in the perfect fucking way and you're so so so close. 

“Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop! Oh fuck, Homelander—don’t—ahhh!” The dam bursts, a wave of pleasure sweeping over you as you scream. Homelander pulls back and with one deft stroke he slides his cock inside you. He doesn't move. He growls at the feeling of your cunt just pulsing against him. He's so thick inside you, stretching you wide, filling every crevice. 

He whimpers and you feel how tense he is holding off the orgasm threatening to burst inside him.

Just as you think this must be the end of it, your mind just a buzzing noise, he pulls out moving back and he pushes you on your back. 

You never expected him to be so active in bed but he's already in between your legs, his hands clamping down on the clammy flesh of the back of your thighs and he spreads you open. He's on his knees, his hands slide and curl from the back of your thighs to the top as he pulls you in, slowly sliding his cock into you in one push. 

He doesn't wait for anything. He just fucks you. Hard and fast, really getting himself off more than you. Surrounded by posters and merch all carrying his likeness while he plunges into you again and again. Your hair is plastered to your forehead as you watch your hero utterly ruin you. You're sweaty, absolutely spent and tired while he's pushing into you without breaking a sweat. 

This round isn't for you yet it's gonna be a memory you'll frequent the most. The look on his face, pure lust and torture as he's fucking you with as much strength as he allows himself. 

With how he's got your hips propped up he's managing to hit all your best spots as your overstimulated nerves light up, giving him one last finish, your pussy’s quivers pushing him over the edge as well. 

Then there's a little hot spurt of him inside you but you're surprised when he pulls out shooting most of his load with a few strokes of his fist all over your panties and stomach. 

“Ahh fuck. Look at that, finally got your first autograph.” He snorts, amused, admiring the sight in front of him. His cum has already soaked into your panties, the ‘Homelander’ text changing into a darker colour as both his cum and your slick from the previous round drench the fabric. 

You flush hot red and you shake your head, amused by his antics. “That's disgusting.” But strangely, you're charmed. 

“I should take a picture. You look great like this.” 

He notes as he slides off your bed pulling his briefs over his finally softening cock, tucking himself back into his suit.

“Stay?” You say softly, offering him the space for his benefit more than yours. Even though you'd like him to stay for a cuddle you know you'll be out of it in a minute.

“Can't do I'm afraid, duty calls.” 

You nod, understanding. “Thank you, I really feel like a winner.” You snorted, thinking back to how the day even started.

He looks at you almost fondly, but your orgasm-hazy brain might just not be working anymore. 

“Until next time.” He says as a goodbye and you end up tucking yourself into bed. The last thing you hear is the click of his belt he picked up from the living room, the creak of the leather gloves he slides back on and the sonic boom of him flying away.

And you know that when you wake up if it wasn't for your ruined panties, your throbbing cunt or even the ripped poster in the living room you wouldn't believe any of it was real.

You sure hope there will be a next time.

[Part 2]

Taglist (you can add yourself to be notified anytime I publish a new Homelander story)

[lovexjoe]

MasterList

Jacob Scipio

❤️‍🔥= includes smut

Armando Aretas

Series

On The Run: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 (Completed)

In Love With A Stripper: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Penpals: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4❤️‍🔥 Part 5

♥♡∞:｡.｡｡･::･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Amor Prohibido ❤️‍🔥

Armando Boyfriend Concept

Pregnancy w Armando

Sex and Aftercare Concept ❤️‍🔥

Damsel in Distress

Pranking Armando

TikTok Prank

Younger Reader x Armando Concept

Armando losing someone

Intoxicated ❤️‍🔥

Pregnant x Armando

Armando comes home from prison ❤️‍🔥

Vampire Armando ❤️‍🔥

Some Fatherly Advice

Personal Body Guard

Girls Trip

Young Armando

Armando x Mike

Passports

♥♡∞:｡.｡｡･::･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

One Sentence Concepts

It's just a cold

I love you...please don't leave me

Baby..it was one time!

Arguing

Goofball

Don't leave me alone with him!

I didn't think I'd fall in love

Bad Boys 5 Ending

No Innocents

There is no way anyone is that innocent

Did you know!?

I'm a fucking drug dealer!

did you know!?

Yeah you are

You're mine

I need you to trust me

Y'all are some terrible fucking fugitives

Don't test me

Jacob

Boyfriend Headcanon

Vacation Love ❤️‍🔥

Calvin Klein

Bestie at the premiere

Filming Pieces of Her

America's Favorite Girl Goes Live

Daddy Dearest

Bed Talk ❤️‍🔥

Fluff Talk

Insecurities

Barbershop

College Girl ❤️‍🔥

Airport Pickup

Training w gf

Interview with your Co-Star

One Sentence Concept

I gotta make my mark

What would Armando do?

Go baby!

Best Friends

College Girl

Naughty Naughty

Don't make me spank you

Michael Vargas

Michael teaches Reader to shoot

The Hotel ❤️‍🔥

Galan

Saving reader

Galan Headcanon

One Sentence Concept

Im Galan

I miss you

Baby its just me and you

Don Q

One Sentence Concept

You're a beauty

Fuckface!?

I need my mem

You're a beauty

Mind going out with me

Taglist: @yeahnohoneybye @cardi-bre91 @onlysarang @romanreignsluver1 @minwn @nelo0wesker

@armandosbabymama @dyttomori @bbyplutosblog @vergilnelosparda @believeinthefireflies95 @ebsmind @hopetookourvibe @omg-mymelaninisbeautiful

[femalestunning]

MILLIE BOBBY BROWN "Damsel" World Premiere | March 01, 2024

[burst-of-iridescent]

Hey does everyone remember when Aang physically hurt Katara via burning her due to his own negligence with fire because he didn't listen at all to her concerns? But all of Katara's concerns were her being worried for him getting hurt and not herself, and then he hurts her badly, this never gets addressed again in the show, but I remember this vividly.

i actually like this scene on its own.

aang burning katara is a good character building moment because it's a brutal reminder of his own capacity for destruction. he needs to understand that his reckless actions can have horrific repercussions in order to fully realize the weight of his responsibility as both a firebender and the avatar, and it makes the moment where he uses zhao's recklessness against him more impactful. it also sets up the "water = life, fire = death" dichotomy that's part of katara's arc on viewing the world in binaries, which will later be broken down in book 3.

but ultimately the incident is still of greater significance to aang, and he's the one to bring it up in the guru and western air temple episodes, telling both guru pathik and zuko about his guilt over burning katara and his refusal to firebend ever again. this experience is also what leads him to accept zuko as his firebending teacher, and then finally forgive himself when he learns the true meaning of firebending. for the most part, it's a well-sustained arc and one of the few narratives aang has that is actually brought to completion.

do i wish that katara and aang had actually talked about his actions beyond this episode? yes. do i wish the aftermath had been focused a little more on katara instead of showcasing the impact of her physical injuries mostly through aang's continued self-flagellation? yes. but as a one-off incident contained to a single episode, i don't mind it.

what i do mind, however, is that this is not the last time the show is going to use katara as a lynchpin for aang's character development.

in the book 2 premiere, katara is turned into a pawn to propel aang into the avatar state. in the guru, her imprisonment is the reason that aang chooses to go back to ba sing se instead of unlocking his chakras. that is three separate times now that katara has been damselled in order to facilitate key turning points in aang's narrative, but not once does the same apply in reverse. there is never a moment where aang is the only one put in danger solely to drive katara's arc, the way she is in his. the closest we get is katara bringing aang back to life, but even then his death is still the result of his own choices and more integral to his storyline than hers.

now, compare this to the final agni kai.

at first glance, katara being put in danger just to complete zuko's redemption looks like the same tired trope, and had the scene ended at his sacrifice, it would be. but crucially, it's katara who continues the fight. katara who defeats the scion of fire nation destruction at the height of her power. katara who saves zuko just as he saved her.

in proving herself a master waterbender powerful enough to defeat azula and save someone she loves - someone who sacrificed themselves for her - from fire nation aggression, katara brings her own arc full circle. it is in triumphing over azula by saving each other that zuko and katara become the people they were always meant to be, and so their individual arcs are brought to their narrative culmination through bookending the other. the final agni kai works where the kat.aang moments fall short because it is of equal significance to both zuko and katara's narratives.

obviously, this is not to say that it's bad for certain characters to exist just to drive another character's arc. it's inevitable that some will be written solely to fulfill that purpose because a story only has so much narrative space, and it usually can't - and shouldn't - be divided equally amongst every single character.

but if we're talking about two main characters who end up in a lifelong romantic relationship, and it's the female character being repeatedly damselled to drive the male character's storyline within an already imbalanced dynamic... perhaps it's time to rethink a few things.

[netflix]

here for an anti-fairytale story. Damsel premieres This Friday

[astaroth1357]

The Brothers are Damsels in Distress!!

I was flicking through my feed, saw something and went: "But what if Rapunzel??"

Content: Hints of Fairytale AU, but on crack

Scenario: One morning, through utterly inexplicable means, a portal opens up and drops one of the brothers into a cottage-style tower straight out of a fairy tale. The whole room is enchanted so they can't break out on their own. Their only means of communication are their phones and a crystal ball they can use to see what the MC and others are doing.

How are they taking this?

~♡♡♡~

Lucifer

This man is livid. Fuming. Almost apoplectic.

He has no idea what being has decided to put him in this position, but he's already planning on making them Cerberus' next chewtoy the moment he finds his freedom.

After establishing that he can't teleport out, break the walls, jump out the window, tunnel through the floorboards, or just blow up the room out of spite... he finally accepts his fate.

Lucifer... is miserable. He's doing his best to conserve his phone battery so he can still coordinate with his brothers from a distance, but watching them stumble around cluelessly through the crystal ball is honestly painful. He quite frequently shouts at the feed like a football dad screaming at a TV.

He puts all his hopes in MC and Dia coming up with something because everyone else is mostly useless... There were multiple instances where he just holds his head in his hands, resigning to the idea of being stuck there until he's just a dried out skeleton.

Even if they finally get to him, he won't be happy. He'll be humiliated by the whole affair and trying to anything in his power to save face and get out on his own as much as possible. Anyone who values their lives will forget that it ever happened in the future.

Bonus:

MC: *standing under the tower*

MC: Lucifer! Lucifer!! Let down your-gah!!

*they rub their head and feel something wet hit their fingers*

MC: Was... was that a tomato?!

MC: You know what, fuck you man!! Go help yourself!! 🤬

Mammon

He's flipping out.

An extrovert like Mammon trapped in a room like that all alone?? He'll go stir crazy in three days tops!

It took twenty minutes and 3 selfies for anyone besides the MC to believe that he was trapped in there. ... Then MC raking his brothers over the coals for them to actually start treating it like a priority. He really didn't do it to himself this time, dammit!!

Mammon's ADHD brain is already going mad after a few hours of nothing to do. MC gets piles upon piles of texts ranging from, "Are ya any closer yet??" to "MC, if ya can't get me out of here, take care of Goldie for me... my car too."

They have to reassure him multiple times that he would not, in fact, die in there if they could help it. Though after his phone goes dead from the constant spam, they do start to worry...

If there was any bright side to the situation, Mammon gets to watch his treasured MC absolutely tear his brothers a new one if any one of them so much as think about giving up or postponing the search. Their anger is truly frightening... so good thing he isn't there! Ha!!

When they finally find him, he's never lept for the MC so fast... Literally. He literally jumps. He wants out of there FAST.

Bonus:

MC: *standing under the tower*

MC: Mammon! Mammon!! Let down your-

Mammon: *leaps from the tower, knowing they'll find some way to catch him*

Mammon: FREEDOM!!!

MC: Oh dear God, don't just jump!!! 😫

Leviathan

Panicking like crazy and running around in circles. Can you even comprehend how many premieres he's going to miss like this?? The spoilers!!!

After the MC gets a hold of him through the phone and they tell him to hang tight and if he figures out where he is to let them know.

So uh... He had intends to keep his phone usage down to a minimum so he could conserve the battery life. However, he figures he could at least do his mobile game check-ins and the next thing he knows his phone dies during a weekly dungeon....

Honestly? His soul might have died along with it.

He spends a lot of time staring at the crystal ball, hoping in vain that one of his brothers will watch TV or something, anything that could give him something to do.

That was his only way of communicating with the others and, more importantly, the only source of entertainment an otaku like him could have in a room like this! Does he look like a cottagecore enthusiast?? No!!!

If anyone is in his bedroom, he'll try to zoom in on Henry's fishbowl and talk to him to decompress... He already feels like such an idiot for wasting his battery life. Henry, why is he so stupid...?

Yeah, he's going to be bored and moping until somebody comes to find him. But at least he won't mind the isolation as much so they're not too worried about him going crazy in there. He'll be fine... right?

Bouns:

MC: *standing under the tower*

MC: Leviathan! Leviathan!! Let down your-

Levi: *scrambles to the window* MC, DID YOU BRING A CHARGER?!?

MC: PRIORITIES, LEVI!!!

Satan

He is naturally furious, but also weirdly intrigued. Is this like one of those escape rooms MC sometimes talks to him about...?

Much like Lucifer, he quickly finds that trying to break through stuff wouldn't get him anywhere... as the heavy countertop he smashed into smithereens again the wall shows him.

Tantrum out of his system, Satan is probably the most rational the seven. He does his best to communicate to the others where the tower is based on the landmarks he can see, but he also uses his phone sparingly to conserve the battery.

While they all work to track him down, he keeps himself busy by listening to their plans through the crystal ball or searching for any weak points on his own, because what good would just sitting around do him?

He's surprisingly flexible. If the group plans to look for him from above, he sets out cushions on the floor just in case of any falls. If they want to look for him on foot, he makes sure to light as many candles as possible to give them a makeshift beacon to guide them.

By the time that they actually find him, he's already figured out a couple ways to help get him out depending on the possible exit points and has prepared accordingly.

Bonus:

MC: *standing under the tower*

MC: Satan! Satan!! Let down your-eh?

*they watch as a looong chain of tied together sheets, tablecloths, and towels gets tossed from the window, followed by Satan using it to calmly rappel down*

MC: U-uh.... Never mind! I guess you got this. 😅

Asmodeus

Asmo would be living his best life if only anyone could actually see him up there!

Asmo is all down for playing the role of the helpless, beautiful victim in need of rescuing but how is he supposed to pull that off if he's trapped all alone?? There's no attention! No pageantry!!

After getting the situation across to his brothers, he also kills his phone battery by posting selfies and livestreaming the situation to his adoring public. They're so scared for him, but he's not worried. MC will come find him, after all!

By the time they actually arrive to come get him, Asmo has already dolled himself up to play his newfound role perfectly.

After his phone dies, he keeps himself busy in small ways... Like practicing his relieved expression in a mirror for a few hours. Or using the curtains and his sewing skills to make himself just the cutest gown!

MC: *stand under the tower*

MC: Asmodeus! Asmodeus!! Let down your... hair...?

Asmo: ✨️COMING~!!✨️

*the MC watches as yards and yards of beautiful strawberry blonde trusses indeed gets thrown from the window above, all connected to a very hammy Asmo standing on the window sill*

MC: ... It's only been two days, how did you even grow all that?!?

Beelzebub

Very confused, upset, and hungry. Somebody please help him!!

The minute that Beel sends the message that he is trapped somewhere, it was really all hands on deck. MC and Belphie were freaking out of course, but all of his other brothers were just as worried as well. This is Beel here! He's going to be so hungry out there!!

And hungry he is. He went through an entire two weeks worth of rations stored in the room within an hour. By the end of the day, he's so mindlessly hungry that he starts taking bites out of the tables, chairs, and even his phone...

Since he can't use half of a phone, Beel has to watch his brothers work through the crystal ball while he gnats on the drapery, feeling guilty about making them all so worried...

At least this time his brothers don't argue nor fight with each other at all. Everyone understands what the priorities are and they follow whatever roles they are to the letter. They want to find him ASAP and they even take turns comforting Belphie with MC while they search.

By the time they find him, the whole family is willing to bust through the walls with pickaxes if that's what it takes to get to him. He would feel really touched by all of their efforts, but he's just so hungry... need... food.....

Bonus:

MC: *standing under the tower*

MC: Beel! BEEL!! I BROUGHT BURGERS!!!

Beel: MC... s-so hungry.... 😓

MC: You stay right there, don't move a muscle! I'm coming to you!! 😫

Belphegor

... Deja vu, right?

So this isn’t Belphie's first rodeo. He's practically a "stuffed up somewhere he can't escape from" veteran now. Though this place was more... cozy than the attic.

Call it the cow in him, but he's always had a soft spot for cottagecore. It's so homey and comforting, just perfect for lazy naps under fruit trees! The atmosphere is so relaxing...

So he naps. A LOT.

He ends up communicating a lot more sporadically with everyone than the others. Largely due to the long periods of unconsciousness. But like, could you blame him? What was he even supposed to do in there? MC would figure something out again.

Whenever he goes over to check the progress, he shoots out sarcastic texts about his brothers' dumb ideas to pass the time. It's very apparent how unconcerned he is about this from the get-go...

Does he know when they are on their way to get him? Surprisingly yes. Does he manage to stay awake until they show up? Unsurprisingly no. Go figure...

Bonus:

MC: *standing under the tower*

MC: Belphegor! Belphegor!! Let down your hair!

Belphegor: .....

MC: ... Belphie?

Belphegor: .....

MC: Bitch, are you seriously asleep?!

Belphegor: ....zzzZZzzz....

MC: ARE YOU KIDDING ME!?!

[reginasbread]

Shohreh Aghdashloo at the New York Premiere of Netflix's Damsel at Paris Theater on March 01, 2024

[fancyschmancyopinions]

MILLIE BOBBY BROWN at the premiere of “Damsel” on March 1st 2024 in New York City wearing custom LOUIS VUITTON

Millie wore a dress that looks like armor to the premiere of her new movie “Damsel”. I thought the dress was nice, but not very exciting. I was also caught off guard by her long hair, since it’s usually more shoulder length. Overall, she looked very beautiful.

[themousefromfantasyland]

A Fairy Tale Rabbit Hole

Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs is the movie that it started it all for Disney Animation and it's the most influential fairy tale movie ever. Its tropes and its tone still inspires fairy tale media to this day, either as parodies, or homages.

But what less people know is that Walt Disney was inspired to make this movie because of a peculiar silent movie that he watched when he was a teenager.

That movie was Snow White from 1916. Its writer, Winthrop Ames, adapted it from his own Broadway play. An example of American fairy tale theater.

This kept me thinking.

The Wizard of Oz is one of the most iconic fantasy films of all time, and it was made in direct response to Snow White. What people don't know is that the scene where Glinda saves the gang from the deadly poppies with a snowstorm came straight from a fairy tale musical from 1902. It came from The Wizard of Oz, a fairy tale musical "extravaganza", with direct input from L. Frank Baum, only two years after the original novel.

Actually, stage musicals seem to take a slight part in the creation of Oz. The Marvellous Land of Oz, the sequel, seems to be inspired by this stage culture. General Jinjur and her army dresses like chorus girls, Ozma/Tip may be inspired by the crossdressing in children roles, and this was the book's dedication:

"To those excellent good fellows and comedians David C. Montgomery and Frank A. Stone whose clever personations of the Tin Woodman and the Scarecrow have delighted thousands of children throughout the land, this book is gratefully dedicated by THE AUTHOR"

These were actors of the 1902 stage show.

Two years later, on 1904 Peter and Wendy premiered. This play is also one of the most famous children stories ever. Walt Disney himself acted as Peter in a local production of it and Tinkerbell quickly became a mascot for the studio.

This all led me to think more about fairy tale theater specifically.

Since the ending of the 18th century and through the 19th century, a genre of stage show developed through Europe. It was mostly comedic and light-hearted, mainly inspired by fairy tales, and it was geared towards children and families. It involved lavish fantasy spectacles told through operas, ballets, and what we today would call "musical theater".

It had many different names and variations depending on the country.

On England, it evolved through the pantomimes and it became a Christmas tradition.

In Russian, it was mainly through ballet, called the ballet-féerie, often considered a lower-class, more commercialized entertainment than traditional ballet. Tchaikovsky's Sleeping Beauty and The Nutcracker are among some of them. Sleeping Beauty would later inspire Disney's telling of the story.

In France they were called Féerie, and it was a mix of music, dancing, pantomime, acrobatics, and stage effects. It influenced the development of burlesque, musical comedy and film.

From Wikipedia:

With his 1899 film version of Cinderella, Georges Méliès brought the féerie into the newly developing world of motion pictures. The féerie quickly became one of film's most popular and lavishly mounted genres in the early years of the twentieth century, with such pioneers as Edwin S. Porter, Cecil Hepworth, Ferdinand Zecca, and Albert Capellani contributing fairy-tale adaptations in the féerie style or filming versions of popular stage féeries like Le Pied de mouton, Les Sept Châteaux du diable, and La Biche au bois. The leader in the genre, however, remained Méliès,[37] who designed many of his major films as féeries and whose work as a whole is intensely suffused with the genre's influence.[38]

Once you realize a huge chunk of fairy tale media has roots in family friendly stage shows from 19th century, a lot of it started making sense.

The focus on romance, the focus on damsels in distress, prevalence of lighter tones, the everlasting connection to music and dance.

They may be the main reason why some fairy tales are more famous than others. Some became source material for a continuous stream of operas, operettas, musical extravaganzas, ballets, plays, and others simply not.

And besides the Victorian Era storybooks that bowdlerized fairy tales for children, I think this whole genre of the theater was responsible to firmly establish fairy tales as a child friendly media, decades before Disney ever released Snow White to cash in that nostalgia.

If you have something to add or if I just got something wrong, feel free to correct me.

@ariel-seagull-wings @princesssarisa @adarkrainbow @the-blue-fairie @theancientvaleofsoulmaking @natache @tamisdava2 @thealmightyemprex

[disarmluna]

[starsmuse]

neverafter premiere night so here are some thoughts!

emily axford is truly godsent. the relationship she and ally have already crafted between ylfa and timothy, the way she plays this congested prepubescent girl, her backstory scene; god, the entirety of her backstory scene was SO good, though, i don’t know why i’m surprised. emily axford has never been anything shy of perfection and she won’t start now in a season where her ability to act really needs to shine through. also the fact that she’s playing a barbarian, i am so glad i guessed correctly because it’s going to be so fun to watch her play one especially with how they’ve set it up.

lou fucking wilson. i love everything about his character, his backstory which i LOVE that they left for last. this season seems to be one for double intros and he and zac are going to be incredible together i KNOW it. i made a few guesses as to who would be what class and NOTHING could have prepared me for him being a warlock to his stepmother, the way they’re interweaving the fairytales is brilliant i am truly so excited.

zac oyama… i love him with the entirety of my being but i couldn’t help but feel slightly underwhelmed with his backstory scene, like no way he’s just some random little cat that can speak? surely there’s more to him! i love the almost-brotherly relationship pib and pinocchio seem to have but i do have a theory i’ll run by you all: we all know in the disney retelling of cinderella, stepmother has a black cat named lucifer, i wonder if pib is another patron of pinocchio’s stepmother or maybe a familiar of hers sent to watch over pinocchio and ensure he isn’t messing things up. JUST A THOUGHT! if not, i’m genuinely very excited to get more backstory out of this character.

opening the show on siobhan’s introduction was obviously the way to go considering how beautifully she executed her scene. the briars… god, the briars. i have no issue with reading and listening to body horror and brennan painted a vivid word picture with his narration for her, it was all so good. i constantly complain about the intrepid heroes never having a ranger and they’ve finally got one and it’s the damsel princess, i absolutely adore that. i also love that rosamund still has that bit of naivety to her considering in her mind she’s still eighteen and she probably lived a pretty sheltered life all things considered. her simply knowing that there’s a prince out there looking for her and that he is her true love, i can’t wait to see what kind of spin brennan is going to put on this curse and inevitably what kind of curveball he’s going to throw siobhan/rosamund.

murph is playing this vapid and vain prince so well, but i cannot wait to see when he actually gets into this fighting that prince gerard seems to turn his nose up at. the scenes with princess elody were bordering on heartbreaking but still fully leaning into embarrassing on the prince’s part, i have an inkling as to why he’s regressing back into his frog form, as should most, but all in all i think this is going to be a pretty silly character, very cody-esque, one that i’m very excited to see and watch grow nonetheless. also, the whole exchange between prince gerard and princess rosamund, i hadn’t realized how little i’d seen murph and siobhan’s characters interact in previous seasons until i got a full and uninterrupted conversation between the two of them when their characters met and now it’s truly all i want to have them be silly little cousins fighting to protect each other.

finally, the person, the myth, the legend: ally beardsley. i hadn’t really though about how important mother goose would be to the plot as a whole until about a week before today because i know that mother goose is not only a writer of fairytales but the writer of the fairytales, so i really, really enjoyed a lot of timothy’s exposition and how much he cares for children—like ylfa—now that he’s lost his own. like i said before i am thoroughly endeared by the relationship ally and emily have already built between the two of them, and i cannot wait to watch it grow and i’m really excited to see what ally does with this character and where they go.

brennan hasn’t answered any of the questions that were asked about if this season is going to be similar to acoc in terms of lethality or if the pcs have created secondary characters, so i think it’s safe to say we should definitely be cautious considering there are no clerics in this party, but all in all i’m shaking with excitement and the thought of the rest of this season we’ve got like seventeen episodes to go and i think they’re going to be SO much fun.

[too-antigonish]

The Great S7 Rewrite: 14 July 2024 Update

So here's a brief summary of where we're at so far plus new ideas:

Bone of Contention #1: Opera Rules

So far: 

Keep and maybe even go a little crazy with Opera Rules 

Possibly feature more of the opera written for S7

Possibly include opera theme towpath murders 

NEW:

@oeuvrinarydurian

Throwing this out here because so many of these options are potentially hysterical. https://tropedia.fandom.com/wiki/Opera

I will also suggest looking at TV Tropes Opera page. I’d also recommend checking out the various tvtropes pages for individual operas by title.

Bone of Contention #2: Ludo and Violetta?

So far:

Give them an evil plan that actually makes logical sense

And also make them people that Morse would actually want to be friends/lovers with

Consider extent to which Violetta is “Unattainable Fantasy Woman” 

Make Ludo a music journalist, etc.

NEW:

Keeping Ludo and Violetta

@oeuvrinarydurian

Violetta works better as a character if we turn her more aggressively into a black widow, who is fully on board with whatever overall plan the two of them have

Could work fine in Operaville if the various lures Ludo throws out include Violetta and her magical vajayjay.

Part of the fun and engagement is finding a way to make them work. I think it is cheating if we get rid of everything we hate.

I’m leaning towards making them much more loathsome and true operatic villains.

@fanficrocks

Agrees we should keep Ludo and Violetta but ramp up their villainy… not necessarily in an overt way

Making them on the surface believable as friend and paramour respectively for Morse; but beneath, they are fully invested in their villainy

@astridcontramundum

Agrees that they could both be villains. 

That’s what she did with them in her “After-comers” AU. 

Violetta was actually more of the mastermind in that story, because Ludo tended to give the game away with his theatrics 😂

Specific Ideas for Ludo and Violetta

Fanfic

Loves Ludo as music columnist covering the premiere of a new opera in Venice for the first meeting/supposedly short affair between Violetta and Morse.

Maybe Ludo attends pretending to be a single man because that is the only way he stands a chance at a real coup - an interview with the prima Donna starring as the female lead in the opera (she is well known for brushing off all other women, esp younger & prettier)

Astrid

Likes the ideas we have for how Ludo, Violetta and Morse meet! (I do think we need to keep them—we need a damsel and a villain.

The trouble for me in S7 was that Violetta’s storyline made no sense. If she was really afraid, it seemed she had ample time alone in which she could tell Morse the truth. 

And I didn’t mind Ludo as a villain—I had too much fun having Ludo and Bixby go head-to-head in my AU, I think. 😂)

Ludo’s Outfits

Astrid

…Ludo tended to give the game away with his theatrics 😂

Durian

…not to mention his outfits.

mystifying sweater vest and patterned shirt combination that’s burnt into my brain that I find incredibly upsetting. It’s so horrible, even by 70s standards, and I can’t quite figure out what the point of it is thematically . Do you know the one I mean? It’s godawful.  I think it’s what he’s wearing when Morse goes over for “dinner“ and Violetta is there. I think M’s wearing his Emo Black Turtle.

Ludo’s outfits, one after the other, just get worse and worse and worse. We have to put together an outfit  montage of stills for our storyboard as we craft our villain s/l. Perhaps we can all drop some LSD. Whoever was dressing him clearly was taking psychedelic drugs.

Antigonish

We *must* now include Ludo and Violetta's increasingly obnoxious  outfits as a sign of their escalating villainy. Emo black turtleneck Morse should be oblivious and baffled by their fashion choices.

Durian

Elton John's fashion evolution

Bone of Contention #3: Towpath Storyline

So far:

Streamline very cluttered storyline

Focus mostly on is the murderer Carl or is it not Carl

Possibly make them opera related so it is universe within universe for towpath killings.  Deranged fan? Thwarted performer? Gives more scope for Thursday/Morse conflict.

Make conflict between Morse and Thursday believable by providing adequate motivation—possibly Morse’s increasingly reckless behavior and lack of care for his safety

While there was a reconciliation at the end of S6, Morse would have still been carrying resentment about having been pushed aside

NEW:

Morse/Thursday Conflict

Astrid

And as for the Morse/Thursday conflict—since Morse is having this affair, and since the case is veering towards the operatic, perhaps Morse gets reckless, putting himself inti danger?

Thursday might think of how he had just gone off to Wicklesham Quarry alone and feel angry that Morse has learned nothing from S6.

Fanfic

Likes the idea of Morse rushing into danger in a parallel with the S6 finale. It is sort of what he did at the very end of Zenana, but if it happens earlier like the middle of Oracle, it would give us a very solid reason for their increasingly acrimonious relationship

Bone of Contention #4: The Episodic Storylines

Raga: 

Fanfic

Simplify to story of intra-family tension resulting in the killing of an employee who is also a friend and thus has opinions on the matter. 

Move the actual killing to a street corner or alleyway so that the political backdrop (hate-fueled campaign, race-based attack on the Asian teenager) works as an effective red herring

Then leaves the gay wrestlers story to be woven in - potentially as a second red herring overlapping with the first one of race hate (as several of the wrestlers in the group were persons of color). 

Loves Thursday’s disparaging parallel between wrestling and opera, and can see how that will really rile Morse

Astrid

Glad you like the wrestlers! I was thinking maybe their falling out could be over who was getting the starring role? Over who would get to play the lead “face?” 

Between the wrestlers, and the family drama (love you all’s ideas for them!) and the Ludo/Morse/Violetta storyline, we could have a theme of jealousy and thwarted love and temptation running throughout all of the layers, linking them all together. And tying in to the opera, too, framing it all into one?

Antigonish

If we make the family Bengali, they would work with the idea of incorporating the political tensions in the lead-up to Bangladesh's independence in '71.

Durian

I love what everybody’s throwing out as far as Raga. 

I think we could get rid of the poker and debt storylines as well and completely concentrate on some iteration of  intra-family political divisions . 

If we’ve got to have a murder about money, we can come up with a better reason… Maybe funding some kind of Pro-Bangladeshi political or social cause? 

Zenana:

Fanfic

The only bit in the entire episode that has anything at all to do with the title is the Lady Matilda’s college theme… limiting it to women only, and the women looking after their own (so to speak) when they trap, or more accurately try to inflict vigilante justice on, the copycat towpath killer

Durian

I am fully on board with jettisoning the Lady Matilda‘s storyline. It’s awkward.  

Overall S7 Themes

Astrid

That quote from Ludo* would be great to use too! I had forgotten he said that...that also brings all of the cast of characters together.

*Ludo sums it up—while also perhaps referring to his crimes—by saying to Morse, “Life, death, rich, poor. It's all a roll of the dice, Morse. There's no reason to any of it. You're not responsible. Some people are just unlucky.”

Between the wrestlers, and the family drama (love you all’s ideas for them!) and the Ludo/Morse/Violetta storyline, we could have a theme of jealousy and thwarted love and temptation running throughout all of the layers, linking them all together. And tying in to the opera, too, framing it all into one?

OK. Next up: a strategy for actually getting this done.

[tetrix-anime]

Yarinaoshi Reijou wa Ryuutei Heika wo Kouryakuchuu (The Do-Over Damsel Conquers The Dragon Emperor) - New Key Visual and Main PV. Premiere: 9 October 2024