#how to write a blurb

[rexhya]

warn — none, i these asks were pretty similar so i just grouped them into one!

✦ ✦

yandere!prince whos been more lovey dovey with you, currently you sit on his lap in the throne room dressed into too expensive clothing while he craddles your head and noses your neck.

"Mm, I wish I could just plaster your scent to me permanently. It's much easier getting off with your smell than not." As usual he waits for your reaction, you grace him with a polite smile he frowns at. He likes it better when you squirm.

"Don't ignore me," he whines his arms gripping your waist in a way that reminds you how easily he could overpower you.

"I'm not." you said dryly, attempting to turn your head from his caramel face but he only holds you tighter.

"Then look at me when I'm talking." his voice was like glass cutting through your heart, you faced him, tears in your eyes, you just couldn't help it. His affections were so misleading you didn't know if he was really in love with you like he said or simply took pleasure in tormenting you. ( most likely the latter )

"Awww, sweetheart don't cry." his face is concerned but his tone is condescending. It only makes you sob more. He kisses at your cheeks, wiping tears away with his thumb. Unbeknownst to you, Anul feels guilty, of course, not enough to ever let you go. But enough to give you a bit of comfort.

"What's wrong my love? Tell me."

There were so many things you could say, instead you whispered, "I just miss my friends. From the maids chambers. I havent seen them in so long."

This partly true, because of him you hadn't seen very much of anyone besides him.

"Very well, then just for today you can be released to your original residence, of course tonight you will sleep with me." you gasped, a for a moment Anul almost looked kind.

"Really?" you didn't believe it.

"Of course."

✦ ✦

You were overjoyed to be back with your friends, it was almost like escaping prison if not for a few hours.

"[Name], you're back." a high pitched voice called from the stairway down to the laundry room, you need to be out of these clothes as soon as possible.

"Samantha, I've missed you." You hugged her tightly.

"And you, though not much has happened whe you've been gone. I'm assuming the prince is rather amorous these days?"

Your face went bright red, "No, not really. We haven't done anything like that if that's what you're asking..."

"I see...Oh that reminds me, you've received someletters while you've been gone." Samantha led you back to the room where mail was to be collected, all maids had a workers had a box where they could receive things from outside the palace, you box contained two eveloples stamped with your family's emblem.

It must be from your father, you thought, you have no siblings and your mother always signed her initials at the ends of his letters to let you know shes always there.

One envelope contains a letter written to you (from your father as suspected) stating how he's found you a husband. Someone you've met before, the farmer who lives just outside your house and how once your contract expires you are urged to return home. The thought makes your heart swell, you'd forgotten about the man, his warm smile, his dimpled cheeks and rather charastmatic personality.

This was the best news you'd gotten since you'd came here, and your contract was ending in just a few short weeks, soon you'd be able to leave and continue a lifestyle you'd always dreamed of.

Suddenly your sprits were lifted, you didn't feel as dreadful walking back to the princes chambers. But Anul could tell you were happier than usual. He could always tell.

And while lying in bed, terror overcame you in just a few short words.

"You're not eally going off to try and mary that man were you [Name]?"

His claws grip your jaw, sinister smile pressed on your lips.

"No my prince, of course not my prince." you lie with a shaky teary breath.

"Of course you weren't, you'd never leave me, just as i'd never leave you, because were meant to be together and nothing could ever come between us right?"

"Right."

The day after, you saw you contract had been extended, instead of a few short weeks, Anul had changed the time of stay to years. You never should have signed that paper.

[ninja-knox-ur-sox-off]

Chronic Sonic pt 12

POV ur bestie comes back from like three to five years abroad

1. After that delightful experience in pt 10, Sonic is a lot less quick to drop his inhibitors or actively seek out the emeralds. Since the only thing he really used to do in his free time was run around adventuring and doing battle and he can’t do that like he used to with his inhibitors preventing him from reaching his full speed (Tails is working on it) so there’s not much else for him to do. Sure he could do the routine Tails drew up for him, but doing little exercises feels pretty pointless in the face of everything. (Even if they really do help when done consistently.)

2. Amy’s back! What was she doing? I dunno, spreading joy and love and enhappifying the world, your guess is as good as mine. Tails actually called her to come visit. Sonic hasn’t seen her for a while and she’s the one person that wasn’t around while this whole spiral happened (so he doesn’t subconsciously associate her with any of it.) They’ve kept her mostly up to speed via texting and some occasional short video calls. (Oh and Sonic and Amy are platonic here. Cotton-Candy Duo. Besties!)

3. Shadow helps Tails out in his workshop sometimes.

[sacrificiallane]

smut ﹙ A for effort ❞ Percy Jackson

request ! ❛ Hello! Could you please please write Percy Jackson x reader, where she is upset about getting a “bad” grade on a test (she got like 95/100) and Percy kisses away her tears and goes down on her while holding her hand as a reward and to cheer her up… ❜ / cw ! fem!reader | very fluff & comfort | fem receiving | oral | some licking | some crying

"Oh. Please don't cry, sweet girl ..." The frown on your boyfriends face was immediate when he'd opened the door for you, seeing the familiar disappointed teary gaze. He was quick to usher you inside his home, welcoming you with a ― much needed ― long-lasting hug, of which he only pulled away when you did first.

Now he was just wiping tears from your face, in order to soothe your solemn mood. "I know you studied so hard for this ..." His hands were placed on either side of your face, gently brushing his thumb over your rosy cheeks, flushed from all the crying. Over and over again, despite your tears not stopping anytime soon, it seemed.

Days and Nights he's seen you work on your notes, trying to memorize things he hasn't ever even heard of ! On calls with him, even sleepovers ... there had been barely any breaks from what he'd often ― playfully ― called his replacement. And yet, despite your efforts ...

Percy watched in mild confusion when you softly pushed the graded paper against his chest, sniffing as you waited for his reaction.

And... there was barely anything marked in red ! In fact, you didn't do bad at all... But, still, 5 points away from your aspired goal. You'd worked yourself towards academic perfection, of course. And 95 out of 100 ― in your mind ― was just not that. So close to what you wanted, yet not quite.

Nonetheless, he offered a soft smile, crumbling the stupid thing with just one hand so he didn't have to let go of you completely. "It's really not that bad," he offered gently, kissing your cheeks a couple of times to try and get you to smile. But nothing.

It looked like you really just wanted to wallow in self-pity a bit more...

But, not with Percy, you wouldn't.

"I still love you if you were worried 'bout that ," He grinned a little, sea green eyes glimmering with nothing but love and affection for you when he watched your lips pull up just a smudge as well. His hand reached for your trembling one, and intertwined them, hoping to ground you even further. "You did your best, I know you did ."

His mouth pressed against your locked hands, your wrist, your arm, until he was tightly pressed against you, kissing your neck. Soft coos of 'I'm so proud of you' and 'my smart girl' followed the same path of his mouth, when he roamed closer to your ear. And then, gently, you were pushed onto your back, and further into his sheets. Firm, yet tender.

"Did so good..." he hummed, kissing the last of your tears away, interlacing one of your hand with his own as he slowly pushed your pants past your knees. Taking his sweet time with it, too. Making you feel loved and cared for. And even if a few little sniffles were still escaping your lips, the feeling of his fingers hooking into the sides of your underwear had it turn into some sweet stuttering real quick.

You were just so glad to have closed his door when you came in ...

"Worked so hard, sweet girl ." His nose nuzzled delicately against your now exposed thighs, peppering some light and ... wet kisses against the skin that had you gasping for more.

And your eyes closed at his coaxing, legs spreading wider for a promised moment of bliss from your favorite boy ♡ You swallowed thickly at the feeling of his fingers opening you up. Gently brushing against your insides like he was trying to perform a magic trick or something. Cautious, and calculated.

Percy certainly knew all about your bodies secrets ...

The young demigod watched with a little smile at your relaxed state. Even more when you gasped softly for him, your fingers tightening their hold on his. "I'm here," another kiss sweetly pressed to your most sensitive parts, "just let me make you feel good."

And he did make you feel good. Always !

Your fingers found solitude inside his dark locks, tugging gently when his tongue lapped gently over your clit. Tasting you with soft, broad caresses. And oh, Percy would always eat you with noises of his own pleasure ♡

Giving you satisfaction was almost as good as receiving it himself !

His voice was so soothing, that it wasn't hard for you to just relax underneath him at all . And with each and every touch, you cared less and less for your 'failed' test.

And Percy Jackson worked his way to an absolute divine sight, that nothing else could elver do it justice ― your face when you came for him ♡ Throughout pleasured and longing for his mouth on yours once more.

𓂃 🖊 more .

[yuwuta]

please feed us some yuuji blurbs there’s a lack of him rn :(

ofc… sweetest boy all time… here’s something was was meant to be a longer project but got lost in the editing whirlwind… love him so bad... 

NEVER LOST IN TRANSLATION, BECAUSE YOU KNOW WHAT I WANT 

notes: reader is implied to be american/english-speaking, yuuta and megumi are bilingual, yuuji, bless his soul, is not. i didn’t use italics for conversations between yuuji and megumi because it would all be in japanese, but when they get mixed later in the scene, japanese is differentiated with italics. hope that’s not too confusing lololll

Honestly, Yuuji tried his best in school. Some things came easier than other, but with a bit of hard work, and help from his friends, he always managed to pull pretty good grades. But right now, his biggest regret is not taking english more seriously in high school, because it’s been about three weeks since he met you, and he’s only been able to say maybe five full sentences to you without the help of Yuuta or Megumi translating. 

He was excited when Yuuta said his friend from abroad would be coming to visit and study, but god, he didn’t expect you to be so pretty. To have such pretty eyes, and pretty lips, and pretty hair, to have the prettiest voice in the world despite him only understanding every eighteenth word you say. You’re beautiful to him, and Yuuji thinks that even if he could speak your language fluently, the words would still get caught in his throat. He’s so lovesick, it’s embarrassing—his friends have been harping on him blushing and stuttering over you for the past month, and he can’t even blame them.

“What does she say to you when you guys talk,” Yuuji whines, hovering around Megumi, and not-so-discreetly looking back at you where you’re still sat in the living room laughing with Yuuta, “Does she ever say anything about me? I mean—probably not right? Which is fine! Actually, dont tell me—no, do. Or maybe—”

“She asks about you,” Megumi says, matter-of-fact in delivery, as he places a bag of popcorn in the microwave, but that doesn’t curb Yuuji’s enthusiasm. He’s practically bouncing, if he weren’t already—begging Megumi to spill the details, “What did she ask? Tell me! Tell me!” 

“She once asked if you dye your hair.”

“That’s it?!” Yuuji screams, heartbroken, and visibly deflating.

Megumi shrugs, “Yuuta probably knows more. She’s his exchange buddy friend thing, so ask him.”

“I can’t ask him, he’s right next to her!” Yuuji pouts, “Wait, what does ‘exchange buddy friend thing’ mean? You don’t think they’re more than friends, right…? I can’t blame her, senpai is really pretty, too, and he can actually talk to her… so unfair.” 

“You know, she’s not fluent, but she can understand some Japanese,” Megumi reminds him, “So, she can definitely hear you, and probably understand you.”

Yuuji’s shoulders slump, and once again, he turns around to look back at you. This time, you two make eye-contact, and that instant, Yuuji’s cheeks go pink, a nervous hand raised to wave at you, and instant internal regret at his actions; but, then you smile, and wave back, and Yuuji stays like that, dumbfounded and lovestruck and on autopilot as he waves with hearts in his eyes until Yuuta looks up from his phone and catches him.

Embarrassing. He knows he’s not the brightest, but he’s at a record high of self-embarrassment since he’s met you.

Yuuta finds himself chuckling when Yuuji spins around and goes back to prodding Megumi with questions. When you turn to face him again, it’s with a shy smile.

“I told you you’d like him,” Yuuta grins—the kind that seems sweet and innocent, but has just a kiss of that all-knowing tease to it; the kind that reminds you that he’s truly related to Satoru.

“Oh, be quiet,” you grumble, tucking your legs in and resting your chin on your knee. You spare another glance in Yuuji’s direction, for once, grateful for the language barrier between the two of you, when you turn back to Yuuta to proclaim: “I can like someone and not do anything about it. You’re real good at that, aren’t you?”

Yuuta’s slightly cocky grin falls into a scowl, and now you get to smile when he argues back, “We said not to bring up he who shall not be named in the presence of my friends!”

“Then don’t bring up my he who shall not be named in the presence of him!”

“Aren’t Americans all about forging new frontiers and chasing after your dreams?” he taunts, “Well, your dream is right in front of you.”

“My dream right now is to kill you.”

“Lucky for me, you’re going to have to hold off on that because your lover boy is approaching.”

You don’t have time to argue back with Yuuta when Megumi and Yuuji approach the living area with snacks in tow. Yuuta scoots to the tail end of the couch under the guise of giving Yuuji space to place the popcorn and nuggets in the center of the coffee table, but he has just enough time to flash you a wink before Yuuji settles in between. Megumi opts for the loveseat closets to Yuuta’s end of the couch, and you do your best not to reach over Yuuji and strangle Yuuta.

The boys decide on watching a movie you’ve never heard of, but Megumi reassures you it’ll be easy to follow and has English subtitles. You don’t mind, settling in to your corner of the couch with a handful of popcorn just as the title-screen for Human Earthworm 3 rolls across the TV.

You can follow along well-enough—even without subtitles, you get the gist of the movie. What you really find entertaining is Yuuji, who occasionally blurts out a comment or exclamation, or audibly coos whenever something sad is happening on screen. He’s almost as animated as the characters; you’re more of the silent-watcher type, but you find yourself endearing by this commentary, even if you can only understand parts of it.

You particularly appreciate the way that after every comment, he either motions to Megumi, or turns to you himself to repeat his thoughts in his best broken English, and even when you don’t understand his words, you understand him. His emotions are all on his sleeve: frustration, happiness, confusion, curiosity—communication between you two should be more difficult, but Yuuji makes it easy.

It gives you the confidence you cough out your own observation, “You, um… you’ve… seen the others? You seem to like this series.”

Across the room, Megumi and Yuuta hold their breaths, opting to not translate for you when you switch from Japanese to English. Yuuji is quiet for a moment, turned to face you with a slightly confused look on his face that makes you nervous, until his eyes brighten up and he smiles and begins nodding fervently—“Yeah—yeah, I do! It’s my… hm how do I say it… Oh! It’s my favorite!”

Between the smile on his face, the blush on his cheeks, and sincerity in his voice, you feel like you’re wrapped up in his world. It’s a little confusing, and scary, but it’s not all that bad. Maybe you can do something about it, eventually.

“I.. I think I like it, too.”

[yaekiss]

start with stealing (kisses) from mydei while on the (grocery) run

꩜ Room Content: GN! Reader x Mydei, established relationship, SFW, lmk if I missed out anything! ꩜ A/N: AYE AYE CAPTAIN 🫡 ꩜ Spin this wheel and submit a prompt + character for a quick blurb!

Strolling through the market with Mydei never proves to be boring. There are always new wares to see, familiar merchants to catch up with, and your ever-patient lover by your side.

Today, the weather permits for a longer grocery run, with the occasional light summer breeze refreshing you as the both of you drift from stall to stall. Mydei takes his shopping (ahem, the procuring of adequate nourishment) very seriously, sparing no effort in only purchasing the best for the two of you.

But seriously. How much longer is he going to take to buy a pitcher of goat milk.

Your sweet Mydei has been talking to the stall owner for several minutes, discussing about the source of the goat milk, where the goats was raised, what to drink it with... what the goats' names were??? Honestly, you know all too well that Mydei is just going to end up pairing the goat milk with his usual pomegranate juice and cheese again anyway. This was taking slightly too long. (And not to mention how long the grocery list still was. If you want to have any hope of getting everything before they sell out, the two of you are going to have to move on right now.)

Sighing lightly, you shift forward, closer to Mydei. Tapping him on the arm, you ask him, "Hey, what do you think of getting this here?"

"What item?" Distracted by his conversation, he doesn't catch you leaning forward as he tries to look at what you mentioned.

"...!" Mydei's eyes widen when you press your lips to his for the briefest kiss, your tongue swiping mischievously against his lower lips before you pull backwards, breaking away from him. You drink in his stunned reaction, blush high on his cheeks, as if he were some scandalised maiden.

Sauntering off to the next stall, you leave your poor lover behind as he tries to recover his wits. "I...I'll just take a pitcher full of your best goat milk," you hear him say, as he hurriedly finishes his purchase to chase after you.

Maybe you'll have to motivate him with more kisses to maximise your grocery run efficiency!

Extra silly nonsense :3

"Ah... to be young and in love again," the stall owner remarks as they watch the crown prince scamper off after their lover. If they squint, they could almostttt see a tail wagging behind Mydei...

Thanks for reading! Consider supporting me on kofi if you enjoyed this or check out my other works hehe ♡

If you'd like to request a full fic of your own, do consider checking out my event post!

[duckprintspress]

Given how common it is for book posts that say "just give me the book blurb! stop with all the other things!" to get tens of thousands of notes, I feel the need to say, as a tiny micro-publisher: if only sharing the book blurb sold books, trust me, we wouldn't be wasting our time with all the other shenanigans.

But just sharing the blurb doesn't work. Most people scroll right by.

And so we try every single method we can think of, including sharing the blurb among them, to try to get whatever eyes we can on the book.

Of course the description of the story is the best way to sell the book and get people interested, but it only works if y'all actually read it. And getting most people to the point where they'll read anything that isn't already immediately and actively part of their existing interests is fucking hard, so we use splashy graphics and short hand to try to hook people, and then hope that when they read the blurb, that hook will go from "oh, that's worth a glance" to "oh, that's worth a buy."

Also: just because the exact post you saw promoting a book didn't include the blurb doesn't mean other posts about the book don't!

Sorry. I just have seen so much of that recently (and not just because of that poll about "what convinces you to buy," I actually found that whole poll extremely interesting and informative) that I'm kinda losing patience with it.

Just posting the blurb doesn't work.

Signed, someone who sells books for a living, or at least tries to.

[kyleighsturniolo]

BE QUIET ✧˖°. sombr / shane boose

.ᐟ In which you and your boyfriend are desperate for eachother right before he needs to go on stage.

warnings: smut, dj on the vj, very light degration, having to be quiet

You didn’t know how it ended up like this. You weren’t supposed to follow him backstage, but you couldn’t resist. And you especially weren’t supposed to be straddling his lap, letting him kiss all down your neck while his hand was up your skirt.

“Shane,” you whispered softly, knowing you wanted to do this. “Your security. They’re right outside,”

He smirked, caressing your thigh. “I guess we’ll have to be quiet then, huh?”

His fingers traveled up your thighs, gently caressing and feeling where your panties were. You felt the heat rush straight to your core, the sensation overwhelming yet so pleasurable.

“You wore this short ass skirt to my show,” he murmured. “You knew what you were doing. You knew this would happen. Right when all my security guards are right outside the door.” His tone was a bit frustrated, yet not unkind. He wanted to feel you, to satisfy you both.

You whimpered in response, slowly rolling your hips against the bulge in his pants, causing him to let out a noise as well.

“Now you gotta take this like a good girl and be quiet for me, okay?” You nodded, feeling his hand travel to your clit, his fingers slowly rubbing you in the most sensual way possible.

You held back your noise, leaning into his chest where he let you rest your head in the crook of his neck, muffling your whimpers against him. “There you go baby. Such a good girl for me.” His fingers lazily rubbed your clit in circles, causing you to let out more whines. You tried your hardest to remain quiet, but his touch was almost too much.

He leaned down to kiss your neck and you whimpered quietly, the sensation overwhelming yet so pleasureable.

“Just don’t wear this skirt next time, huh?”

© 𝐤𝐲𝐥𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐨

a/n: decided to feed you guys hehe, hope you enjoyed !!! working on a matt sturn blurb rn which will be posted in a few days <3

[plutoswritingplanet]

Vicarious (Homelander x Female!Reader) pt.1

a/n: guys... you can't tell me y'all weren't expecting this. Title from the song "Vicarious" by Tool. Really wanted this to be a one shot, but as usual, I have shit to say. Will be Cross-Posted on AO3 as soon as they open the site back up.

Warnings: Nothing Explicit YET, some sexist remarks and creepy behavior from the man of the hour, Questionable Corporate Ethics, Set Before The Events Of The Show, Reader is written to be Plus Size.

Summary: Sidekick projects have been scraped completely after numerous accidents, but as a viral video of your hero work makes rounds through the public, you're forced to take part in a six moths program, that will forever change your life, as well as Homelander's

PT.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt.5

It all started with a video. An insignificant, minute-long nothing posted to TikTok by an account, that up until then, made short edits specifically of A-Train and some B-list no-name hero. Quickly, it gained traction, making rounds throughout the app, bleeding over to other services, all the way to national television. First, an independent local station, soon picked up by a Vaught-affiliated one. Normally, that's where it would've stayed. Stillwell would extend an offer of a chance at an interview, alongside one of the Seven. But for some unknown reason, that small piece of nothing climbed all the way up to the floor eighty-two of Vaught Tower.

Well, to be quite honest, Stillwell knew exactly why she was in this situation. After a very messy graduation speech at a small college, Homelander lost almost twenty points with a young adult demographic. It would've been an easy fix, if not for the delicate nature of the breached subject, and Madelyn knew, this sudden interest in a nobody from nowhere, who, coincidentally, fit the demographic perfectly, was anything but a happy accident. It was a test, both for Homelander, and for her.

Which is why, Madelyn Stillwell and Homelander, the Homelander, the most American supe to ever exist, are cooped up in your living room, glancing about the modest decor, as you pour iced tea into three glasses with tacky fruit print all over them.

You've refused every single invitation, every single Vaught representative that knocked on your door. Your inbox was flooded with emails, your phone number was blowing up two, three times a day. And yet, your answer remained the same. You were not interested in a collaboration, thank you for the opportunity, please leave me alone.

That wouldn't fly, not with Madelyn, who, pushed by the constant nagging from the upper levels of the Tower, decided a more direct approach was the right one. So, she dragged herself into this… Well, to be quite honest, bum-fuck-nowhere, and brought her star pupil with her. No one would refuse working with Homelander himself, after all. At least that's what they both thought.

-I appreciate the effort - there's a practiced, borderline bored intonation in your voice, and Homelander's hands flex on his thighs - But I've already talked with, um, Jerry? From HR? The answer is still no.

Your house is small, but cozy, with sunshine pouring through the windows, reflecting onto the beaded curtain hanging in the doorway to your kitchen. An artist's home, through and through. Homelander hates it, hates the ordinariness of it all. He was so much above all this, sitting on your worn down couch physically hurt him. And the smell. The smell was the worst part. Reheated lasagna, mixing with a lingering aftertaste of cigarette smoke, and an undercurrent of weed, that almost made him retch. If it weren't for that damned video, you would be nothing more, than another brainless ant under his boot.

-Well, we - Madelyn offers her best, brilliant smile, gesturing to herself and Homelander - are very passionate about discovering new talent.

Your mouth twitches into a knowing smile, and for just a second Homelander feels flames of intrigue rising in his chest. Not for long, though, because you recline back into an armchair, taking a sip of the iced tea, and his eyes flash to the way your throat moves as you swallow. You could be hot, he concludes. Young, and with a truly spectacular rack. But there was something off about you, like you were constantly on the verge of dying from boredom, some invisible weight always on your shoulders. No amount of fake smiles and high-end makeup could cover that up.

He'd fuck you. If you'd beg him.

-We want to offer you a new, revised contract - Stillwell extends her hand with a rather thick binder of papers, and you hesitate for a moment, before reaching over. - Hopefully, it will make you reconsider.

You don't even show them the decency of looking through it, placing it on the table instead, and Homelander feels an itch form itself in the corners of his eyes. Stillwell looks taken aback as well, her brilliant smile faltering for just a second. You on the other hand, take another sip of your drink, before placing it right in the middle of the contract, the moisture from the ice creating a wet circle in the paper.

Your heartbeat is even, it doesn't pick up even a smidgen, when you look between Stillwell and America's Greatest Hero, who is slowly but surely growing annoyed by your persistent indifference.

-Thank you, but I already said no - you repeat, and this time, Homelander shifts on the couch.

-And why not? - he asks, tension entering his voice in a way, that makes Madelyn squirm - Countless supes, with much more impressing powers than you, I might add, would kill to be in your place.

"To work with me" goes unsaid, but he can see in your eyes, you read it from thin air of superiority engulfing him. Annoyingly perceptive. You nod your head slowly, before turning away from them, looking out of the window of your living room. There's a small patch of grass, and a second house, so similar to yours, but at the same time, completely different. Your chin sticks out in its direction, and Homelander follows with his eyes.

There are paper butterflies stuck to the windows, cut out clumsily, most likely by children's hands.

-My neighbour, Missus Johnson - you explain - She lives there, with her three kids. Her husband died in a fire caused by your friend, Lamp Lighter.

Madelyn stills, Homelander raises an eyebrow.

-I can afford this house, only because my mother signed an NDA, after The Deep sank my father's fishing boat. - again, your heart stays completely unaffected - Accidentally, of course.

-I was not aware… - Madelyn starts, and it's hard to decipher whether she's talking to you, or Homelander.

Someone at the research department is going to have a very unpleasant evening.

-That's alright - you interrupt her with a raised hand and a small smile - This whole neighborhood is filled with similar cases. And I'm very, very attached to this place.

Why, Homelander couldn't tell. For all he knew, this was some shit hole, right in the suburbs outside New York. Not even the half decent ones. A forgotten by everyone, dying piece of land, that housed insignificant humans, who would never amount to anything, you included. He lived in a lavish apartment, inside a miracle of modern architecture. Who wouldn't want the same?

-And - there's something new entering your tone of voice - If I'm going to betray everything I stand for, I need to give something back to those people. Does your contract reflect that?

Madelyn bites the inside of her cheek, her scrutinizing gaze making your skin itch. Still, she sighs after a moment, excusing herself with that same, practiced expression she uses on every shareholder. Homelander follows her out, nodding his goodbye to you, but before he can leave this dump, Madelyn stops him with a hand pressed against his chest. She gives him one look, makes him aware that his job isn't over, and he can feel the muscles of his face twitch.

So, obediently, he lingers in your doorway, taking a few calming breaths, before facing you once more.

You've changed positions, your armchair abandoned in favor of sitting by the window, one leg bent in a way, that shows quite a nice view of your calf, your long skirt pooling around you. Homelander's eyes trail up with mild interest, and he indulges in his X-ray vision. He's just being curious, nothing more.

Your underwear is, well, for the lack of a better word, plain. The bra seems to be slightly ill fitted, digging into the sides of your breasts, making them almost spill from under your pits, and Homelander swallows thickly at the sight. There are little, pink hearts on your panties. The colors are dull and washed out from frequent use, and the once frilly lace is starting to fray at the edges.

Apparently Vaught's compensation was not sufficient for you to buy some decent undergarments.

-Do you want something to eat? Drink? - you ask from your place by the window, and Homelander is snatched back to reality - Do you even need food?

The bluntness of the question startles him, makes him feel defensive, but Madelyn wanted results, so he puts on a mask of his trained smile, and crosses the room. Back straight like an arrow, he looks wildly out of place between all the linens and cushions. He doesn't look at you, trapping your smaller form in the confinement of the window, as he watches over the neighboring house.

-I'm not hungry - he shoots down your offer with a wave of his hand - I've already eaten.

A lie, but he'd never stoop low enough to take any leftovers, especially from you. Still, the offer seems nice. He does like being pampered, even if it's with lackluster things. Your eyes linger on his boyish smile, another practiced thing, and Homelander shifts focus to your heartbeat once again.

-Alright then - your voice sounds indifferent as ever - Well, if you don't mind, I'm going to make some dinner for myself.

He offers a small nod, and watches you from his position by the window, as you slip past him. It does require quite a lot of manoeuvering, but you manage to stand without touching him. He has to admit, watching you balance, as you try to avoid him, was amusing. Still, your heart beats calmly, and, not wanting to be left on his own, Homelander follows you to your kitchen. The beads of the courtain drum delicately over the bronze eagles on his shoulders.

The fridge is buzzing something awful. He can see just how run down the inside mechanism is, the hinges squeaking unbearably, as you reach for a box of reheatable spaghetti. There's cheep beer inside, a moldy lemon, a carton of milk pretty close to expiring, and a half-used bottle of spicy ketchup. Homelander doesn't even recognize these brands, they're not sponsored by Vaught, that's for sure.

Cheap, tasteless, basically offering no nutritional value.

-Would you step back for a second? - he asks, already wrenching himself between you and that pathetic excuse of a meal.

Again, your body sways to avoid touching him, and for some unknown reason, he finds it very amusing.

Then, you watch with a raised eyebrow, as he turns towards your spaghetti, a red sheen overtaking his eyes. An unbearably hot beam shoots out, making the insides of the plastic packaging sizzle. Finally, that gets him a reaction, as you gasp and reel back, colliding with the barely functional fridge. Your heart does a flip inside your chest, and Homelander soaks up your shock like a man starved.

Only when the red fizzles out of his gaze do you dare to move, approaching him slowly, your eyes bearing into him in a way that is frankly uncomfortable.

He turns to you with another one of his charming smiles, trying to handle this sudden scrutiny in as flippant a way as possible.

-I had no idea you can control the intensity of your lazer - you admit, voice slightly breathless.

-Pretty neat, huh? - perhaps he's fishing for more attention, but he doesn't care, because your eyes light up for just a moment in sheer wonder.

-Super cool, actually.

Yeah. Yeah, that's fucking right, he is super cool. And your heart is beating so much faster, and finally you're looking at him as if he's more than just some guy, some living advertisement you're determined to ignore.

And then your eyes shift, eyebrows furrowing ever so slightly, as you zero in on his shoulder. Something akin to a wave of amusement flickers across your expression, and to his general surprise, Homelander wants to know what's the cause of this shift. Your lips pull back into a smile, teeth peaking at him in all their glory. He can almost imagine them running down his skin, before he pushes the thought back all together, as the lower portion of his suit becomes slightly too tight for comfort.

-Well, thank you for saving the spaghetti - your eyes hold a spark of amusement - My hero.

Okay, alright, he's hard. There's no point denying it. However annoying and insignificant you were moments before, your quip goes straight to his loins, burning enough, for him to consider just how mad Stillwell would be, if he'd have a taste of this newly discovered talent.

If he stands any closer to you, he might find out, because this special little moment you two have shared, is crudely interrupted by Madelyn clearing her throat. Homelander nearly jumps back, you however barely turn your head, reaching for your spaghetti and arming yourself with a fork.

-I've spoken to my supervisor - Stillwell announces, clearly peeved by the way you start chewing on the noodles - A new version of the contract will be emailed to you as soon as possible. Hopefully it will be satisfactory.

-Thank you, Miss Stillwell - you answer with an inclination of your head.

With that, Madelyn nods her goodbye at you, refusing to shake your hand, which does amuse you, you're not going to lie. Homelander however, goes all out, capturing your fork-weilding arm, his fingers sneaking around your wrist like a bracelet. Or a shackle. Then, you watch with a confused arch to your eyebrows, as he brings you closer, until his lips press onto the protruding knuckles. Now that, admittedly, gets your heart going. You were not an easily embarrassed person, not by a long shot, but you could feel blood rushing towards your face all the same.

He has to hold his breath, as he kisses your hand in that charming, gentleman way he's seen in old movies. The smell of pasteurized tomato sauce blows in his direction, like a direct assault on his senses. Still, he needed something that would make you swoon. If everything failed, he knew how to be intimidating, but for now, perhaps he wanted to try something different. Something that would yield much more pleasant results, for the both of you. Mostly for him, let's be honest.

Madelyn asks him to stay back, spy on you throughout the night, and he begrudgingly agrees, if only to mask the fact, that he would do so of his own volition, had she not brought it up. And as such, he floats into the rapidly cooling air, disappearing into the darkening sky, where you wouldn't be able to see him even if you tried. He could see you however, and hear you, and he was about to make the most of the situation.

He spends the whole evening just watching you exist within your space. Normally, it would piss him off beyond belief. You weren't doing anything scandalous, anything that could warrant his attention. And yet, as he floats on, in time lowering himself just slightly, to get a better view, he just can't seem to look away. The spaghetti is gone in approximately fifteen minutes, as you inhale the supermarket food, walking around the living room, the kitchen, getting a few bites on the porch even. You seem so utterly unfazed by the events of the past hour, like you haven't just had America's Greatest Superhero try to convince you to work with him. It's honestly insulting, this lack of reaction.

Then, finally, he can hear a distinct ping of a new email come from your laptop, and you sit down on the couch with a small huff. Your eyes move, your lips twitch, and then he hears your heart stop in your chest. As if working on autopilot, your hand travels up, covers your mouth in shock, and you lean back against the worn-down sofa, eyes glued to the screen illuminating your face in a blue-ish light.

-...fuck… - you whisper, and despite himself Homelander floats even closer to your window.

Finally, he has the chance to peak over the curtain. To sneak into the backstage of the award winning production of your defenses, and see what goes on in those bored eyes of yours, when they're not guarded. And what he sees makes his suit feel much too tight, his body too warm. Quite an unusual thing to get so worked up about, but he's the goddamned Homelander, he can get hard whenever he fucking wants. And so, as saliva gathers on his tongue, he presses himself against the tiles on your roof, all the warmth of the day soaking into his skin through the thick material of his suit.

With a shaky hand you reach over towards your phone, putting in a number and pressing the call button, before standing straight from the couch, almost knocking the laptop over.

-Hey, what's up? - someone says on the other end of the line, and Homelander tries to focus more on the words flowing from the receiver.

-Oh, you gotta sit down for that one - you warn with an anxious chuckle, taking the familiar place by the window.

With your free hand you reach up to open the window all the way. Then, Homelander sees your fingers slip between the pillows and pull out a rather beaten up pack of cigarettes.

Naughty, naughty, he thinks, watching you produce a lighter from that same hiding place.

-Alright, I'm sat like never before.

The voice sounds vaguely female, although the shitty quality of your phone makes it hard to decipher. Your lips pull back into a toothy grin, and you blow out the smoke through the window. It curls upwards and dissipates into the air, right above the roof, where Homelander swallows thickly around a coughing fit.

-You will not believe who visited me today…

-The ICE - the voice deadpans, and you snort around another huff of smoke.

-Pretty fucking close, let me tell you - he doesn't appreciate the joke, not at all - Fucking Homelander.

The line goes completely quiet for a moment, and with every second your grin seems to be growing.

-Deadass?

-Yup - your lips purse, and Homelander zeroes in on the expression - Flew in all Star's Spangled Glory with some Vaught big fish. They tried to convince me to join the Seven.

-And obviously you said yes, because what the fuck else do you do in that situation?

Your grin slowly fades away, and you lean your forehead on the window frame.

-You didn't?

-I didn't.

Again, it's quiet.

Homelander shifts a bit in his position, adjusting against the warmed up tiles of the roof, his X-ray vision bearing into you. Out of curiosity, he looks deeper, eyes floating over your insides. You're relatively healthy. Some vitamin deficiencies, but nothing too serious. And despite that nasty habit lodged between your fingers, your lungs are clear, at least for now. There's a softness to your body, your muscles barely visible, as if you're just another gray human. Oh, and there's a bit of an eyesight problem forming, not enough to warrant glasses, but that shouldn't take long, considering your lifestyle.

-The contract they gave me was really good, you know - you muse to the phone, your leg dangling from the windowsill - Six months of working under Homelander, a Sidekick kinda situation.

-I thought they scraped the Sidekick program - the person on the other side wonders - Too many casualties or something.

-Yeah, well I guess they want to bring it back.

-Why did you say no then? I'm sure they pay is gigantic.

Again, you smile. This one much more reserved, bordering on sad. There's that strange kind of exhaustion settling into your bones again, same one Homelander noticed when he first saw you. Your shoulders slump forward, and you curl into yourself between the cushions.

-It was, it was… - you mutter - But I needed something more, for the neighborhood, ya know?

Your caller hums softly in understanding, and Homelander feels like something is passing him by. Some unspoken fact, that you and your friend find obvious.

-And - you hesitate, eyes flickering towards the laptop, your heart beat picking up ever so slightly - They sent me a revised contract. And it's fucking good. Really fucking good. It could help this entire place get back on its feet.

-But you still don't want to - the voice says for you, without judgement.

-No - you sigh - I really, really don't.

-Say no then - your friend supplies, and once again Homelander feels a flame of annoyance start to burn within him - No one else knows about the contract, there will be no expectations.

Slowly, you nod your head, clearly relieved by the way your friend reacted to the news. Homelander however, caught you right where he needed you. That's your lever. Not seduction, not intimidation, just plain, stupidly human guilt.

-Thank you - you whisper into your phone, finally smiling again - Oh, wanna know one more thing?

-Obviously.

-Homelander's wearing a padded suit.

Something's stuck in his throat, as he reels back from his position. Before he can stop himself, his eyes begin to glow red, because how the fuck did you know?

-Okay, that's bullshit.

-Unless his shoulder dislocated in the middle of talking, then no, it's definitely not bullshit.

Your friend gives out a choked laugh, one which you mirror with your own. If Homelander wasn't so utterly flabbergasted by your (correct) observation, he would've stopped to appreciate the sound. As it stands, however, he pushes himself off your roof, a couple of broken pieces falling off of the tiles. And then he's up in the air, cutting through the winds, headed straight for the Tower, leaving you in the comfort of your insignificant, smelly home.

The contract is leaked before the sun is up.

You're awoken to thousands of news articles flooding your timeline, all listing the truly wonderful and selfless points in the fated email. With a white face, you read them all, the speculations, the theories, the angry comments about you being chosen without an actual casting, while all those up and coming supes are busting their asses in auditions.

Soon enough, you're visited by every neighbour possible, congratulating, thanking you. A barbecue is set in the street, as a way of celebration, and you want to throw your phone, and subsequently yourself into the nearest river.

Madelyn Stillwell sends you an email, scheduling a meeting at the Vaught Tower. No need for pleasantries at this point, you stare at the bare bones invitation. "We eagerly await the start of our partnership" looks back at you, mocking your resolve. And thus, the end of your life as you know it begins.

"Project Delinquent"

The words are printed in an ugly, corporate font, and they stare back at you, outlining the mold you're supposed to fit in, in such a perfect way, it actually, almost makes you retch. True, during high school you were quite the little rebel, but people grown and learn, and seeing your character be watered down to that simple word, does send a wave of nausea through your insides. Even if this is hell of your own making, even if you're ready to swallow it all down with a smile, there's a pang of humiliation stinging your heart.

The armchair in Stillwell's office is uncomfortably narrow. It barely has enough room to accommodate your hips, and you wonder if this design is intentional. There is a growing ache in your calves, as you sit so close to the edge, you can't fully relax into your position, balancing on your feet instead. The armrests dig into your sides, and the way the sun is shining through the gigantic windows of the office, is shaping this charade of a meeting into an overstimulating nightmare. Still, you endure. For all the wonderful benefits enclosed in your contract, the charity work Vaught is going to supply.

Or at least, that's what you keep telling yourself, stuck between the marketing department representatives and a literal Devil of a woman.

Madelyn Stillwell doesn't know what to make out of you. Your files were filled with all sorts of questionable activity, especially around the college area. It's honestly a miracle you've managed to get your degree, and attend all those silly little demonstrations at the same time. Your criminal record has been wiped clean, weeks before you even agreed to sign the contract, just in case any leaks would find their way into the media. Leaks that were not orchestrated by Madelyn, of course.

High school rebellion was almost too easily marketable, Madelyn decided to focus on that part of your life as much as possible, her vision slowly coming to fruition. All she needed, really, was cooperation. And while you seemed to be mostly receptive to her ideas, she needed to make sure Homelander was on his best behavior. Which, well… Could go sideways in the worst way imaginable, but Stillwell tried to have some faith in her best superhero.

The idea of releasing details of your contract to the public, was a stroke of genius, she did not expect from Homelander, and she made sure he was thoroughly rewarded. With him, it was always better to choose the hands-on approach, unfortunately. With you, however, ideals were the key. Whatever feeling of solidarity you harbored towards your neighborhood, provided a leverage relatively easy to control. Still, as Stillwell looked you over, crammed into her office in your, frankly, lousy attire, she couldn't help but be just a tad worried about your compliance.

-…And then - the marketer continues with a dramatic gasp - Homelander comes in. America's Greatest Hero, offers you a mentorship. And you…

You look up at the representative with a rather sour expression. They have to work on that too. Media training was crucial. You won't be able to sell anything, if you keep grimacing like that all the damned day.

-… Are starstruck - your mouth twitches - You strike up a deal, selfless. A rebel with a heart of gold. Finally, you can make some real change happen, so you push aside your anti-corporate values, to discover, that Vaught is so much more, than you could possibly imagine.

It's hard not to laugh, and you swallow thickly, biting your lip, as a middle-aged woman you don't recognize gets up from the couch, and makes her way to the wall opposite of your torture chair. There, tucked in a corner and hidden under a black cloth, stands a mannequin, roughly your size. With a flourish you find utterly out of place, the woman tugs at the cape, and as it falls to the floor, so does your stomach. You can't hold it in any longer. A rough snort of laughter rips out of your nose, and you cover your mouth instantly.

-That better be a laugh of delight - Ashley, a ginger menace, mutters under her breath, and Stillwell turns to you with a tight expression on her face.

-Something the matter?

-I mean - you take a deep, grounding breath, tying your amusement in the back of your throat - I knew it's going to be skimpy, but this is…

You look around the room, seeing various stages of corporate outrage, and then you lock eyes with Homelander. Stillwell insisted on his participation in the meeting, as the both of you are supposed to work closely together, and throughout the whole ordeal, he looked borderline ready to die of boredom. Now, however, his eyebrows lift in a curious manner, as he takes in the, to be completely honest, horrendous costume, and your full figure. Something dangerously close to disgust twists your features, as he shamelessly drags his eyes all over your body.

Who would've thought America's Sweetheart was a fucking creep?

Rolling your eyes, you get up from the cursed armchair, your knees cracking loudly. Crossing the room, you take a closer look at the clothing, or rather, lack there of. Torn fishnets, plaid tennis skirt, and a corset top, made out of some leather-like material. Truly, a fetishists wet dream. Your fingers sample the fabric of the skirt. Surprisingly stiff, it seems to beg for a wardrobe malfunction. With a frown pulling down your lips, you lift the material up, and as expected, find no safety shorts underneath.

Homelander watches you intently, as you inspect the costume. Just the thought of your soft body in this skimpy, corporate bastardization of a rock star, makes heat rise in the lower part of his stomach. With every disapproving pull of your, and don't quote him on that, perfect lips, he's more and more convinced this whole charade is just an early birthday present. He'll have to thank Stillwell. Or better not, because as soon as he throws her a sidelong glance, he discovers, she's already looking at him. With a rather tense expression at that.

He feigns innocence, almost raises his hands in mock defeat, but decides against it at the last second. You're still watching him, torn between inspecting the costume, and shooting disgruntled looks in his direction.

Then, as if pulled by some invisible force, your hand sneaks to the front of the corset, fingers closing over the full cup, where your breast will soon reside. You give the mock leather two squeezes, and a high-pitched laugh wheezes out of your lips. Homelander's head nearly snaps with how fast he turns to look at Stillwell, confusion clear on his face.

She's looking at you cautiously. He knows that expression all too well, he's seen it multiple times during their partnership. She's calculating, with bated breath, just how much of a problem you'll inevitably become. How to turn it around in the company's favor, how to steer you in the right direction, should the need arise.

But then, you clap your hands, still giggling quietly, and turn to the designer, who's been watching your reaction with a growing distaste.

-That's one hell of a push-up bra - you comment with a raised eyebrow - My tits will fly straight out of this, if I even think about moving my arms.

Now, that's something Homelander would love to see, and you note his leering face with an uncomfortable shift in your posture.

-Your physique has to be god-like. There's no shame in a little padding - the designer answers simply, and your eyes glimmer with amusement.

-Oh, I bet - your eyes float for just a second in Homelander's direction, and he wonders if lasering you down right now would be too harsh of a reaction.

The image had to be kept up, however, and he deflects your blatant provocation with a bright smile. Or rather, it would've been a bright smile, if his cheek didn't twitch in a way, that portrayed exactly how forced his pleasantries are.

-There will be a press conference, seven PM sharp, where you'll be introduced to the public - Ashley informs you, her eyes glued to her tablet - Homelander will give a welcoming speech, explain that you're a temporary member of The Seven. Then, you'll need to say a couple of words. We'll send you the talking points ASAP.

-Right… - you mutter, not particularly thrilled by the idea of public speaking.

Stillwell looks over her shoulder towards Homelander, giving him an expectant, raised eyebrow. Slowly, he moves from his spot by the window, hand extended in a greeting, teeth flashing in a smile. Your eyes involuntarily shift towards his rather sharp canines, and for the first time, since you've signed the contract, you truly feel uneasy. His eyes are almost unnaturally blue, a perfect, American shade, that glimmers just a tad too dangerously. There's no need for super senses, he can feel your nerves in the very air you breathe.

-Welcome to The Seven - his voice is smoother than you've ever heard before - Fireball.

Wait a god-damned minute.

Confusion covers all previous feelings, and to Homelander's growing annoyance, you leave him with his hand extended, in favor of turning towards Stillwell.

-That's not my name - you point out, and Madelyn nods her head in a practiced expression of understanding.

-Due to some copyright intricacies, we can't let you use Smirnoff - she explains.

You suck in a deep breath through your teeth, looking back towards the costume. A moment's hesitation, you close your eyes as you breathe out, and once again Homelander feels as if he's able to peak under a carnival mask you carefully placed upon yourself. He lifts it just enough, sees the way muscles on your neck twitch. Your jaw sets in a way, that is slowly becoming intoxicating, and then you turn back to him.

-I'm honored - your voice is hollow, locked far away in the column of your throat, and you don't have enough strength to even attempt a smile.

That's alright, he has enough charm for the both of you, his imposing stature pushing towards you, as his arm sneaks around your shoulders.

Fuck, you're warm. He can feel the heat of your skin seeping into his costume. There's a vaguely familiar smell clinging to your form, mixing with the scent of cigarette smoke. Jasmine flowers, he concludes, and absent-mindedly remembers a rather large bush growing in your backyard. He wonders, if you'd let him fuck you, if he showed up with a bouquet at your door. Women seemed to like those, and although you didn't strike him as the most romantic person, he's positive he could charm his way into your pants.

-I'll show you to your room, sweetheart - perhaps he's laying it on a bit heavy with the nickname.

He can hear Stillwell's heart jump, and he immediately knows, he's going to have to sit through a stern talk later today. You, on the other hand, wrench your head to the side, disgruntled with this new form of familiarity. Your entire body goes tense, and you try to wriggle yourself further away from him. On instinct, his fingers dig into your shoulder, a mockery of a friendly expression, and with just a small fragment of his true strength, he pushes you forward, out of Stillwell's office.

He can do whatever he wants, and Madelyn is getting awfully pushy with guarding you from him. You're just a temporary toy to satisfy the higher-ups. A six months worth of an experiment, that he's forced to be a part of. After your contract is up, Vaught won't care whether you live or die, and you bet your rather ample ass, he's going to exploit that to the fullest. Not only is it borderline insulting, to deny him life's simple pleasures, it's pathetic.

-Nervous about the press? - he asks in a light tone, his jaw clicking softly, when your slide out of his grasp as soon as the doors close.

The casualness of this question throws you in a bit of a loop, but with a couple of rapid blinks, you're back to normal, letting him lead you towards the elevator.

-Public speaking isn't my best asset - you mumble.

Homelander presses the call button of the elevator, then leans against the wall, watching you with a strange twinkle in his eye.

-Sounds like someone's not a people person - he notes, wiggling his finger at you in a manner that is confusingly playful.

-I am a people person - you defend yourself, albeit a bit awkwardly - Just… Not when there's a lot of people.

He laughs at that, a practiced, almost theatrical bark that's as fake as his hairdo. All you have the strength to do, is flash him half of a smile. Thankfully the elevator pings before any more small-talk is required, and you slip into the confined space, standing in the corner. His eyes roam freely all over your body, a shameless act that makes your guts twist, makes the already small space of the elevator even more stuffy. And then, he enters after you, pressing a button to the right floor, and taking a spot much too close to you, than what's necessary.

You suppose it's one of the things you'll have to get used to. This constant invasion of your personal space. Perhaps, if it were someone else, someone that wasn't as empty as you, those actions would've been more intimidating than annoying. Alas, as you watch his chest rise and fall in steady rythm, out of the corner of your eye, his actions remind you of a petulant, spoiled child, rather than America's Greatest Hero. "I can't play with this toy? And what if I do this?" For just a second you entertain the idea of gentle parenting Homelander, and the thought makes the corner of your mouth twitch.

-Something the matter? - he asks, tension sneaking into his friendly tone.

-Just happy to be here, sir - you answer, and he knows it's a blatant lie, another one of your snarky provocations.

Doesn't matter for now, there will be a time to teach you some manners.

The elevator arrives at the right floor, and you bolt out of your place as soon as the doors slip open. Homelander follows closely behind, before closing the distance in a couple of long steps. Then, he's in front of you, and you nearly collide with his form, as he suddenly comes to a stop, in front of a pair of large doors. "Fireball" is etched into a small plack, and you throw the offending piece of metal a withering glance.

-That's your stop, sweetheart - he comments, and once again, you grimace at the nickname - Take a look inside, I'm sure it will blow your socks right off.

Why is he talking to you like you're a fucking child all of a sudden, you'll never understand. The door clicks softly, as you open it, revealing your living space for the next six months. The sight chokes a laugh out of you, because truly, the ammount of "punk" memorabilia is staggering.

-Does cocaine addiction come with the package, or…?

He doesn't even react to your joke, and you don't blame him. For all his creepiness and fake interest, he doesn't strike you as the funniest person on earth. There are guitars hanging over a rather large bed, there's a pristine stop sign next to them, which you suppose is meant to look rebellious. The usage of leopard print is tacky at best, and you truly start to wonder if they even consulted someone out of the corporation to design the space. Most likely no, wouldn't want to waste resources on such a small project.

-Fireball - Homelander's voice is barely above a whisper, but it makes your heart jump all the same.

He's standing so closely behind you, you can feel the warmth of his breath at the back of your neck, but for some unnknown reason, you can't force yourself to move. Instead, you feel him take a deep breath trough his nose, his chest brushing against your back. Your eyes stay glued to a drum set, pushed against a gigantic window. Light reflects off of the cymbals, in your mind you're already playing it, far away from this nightmare of a superhero.

-I'll see you at the press conference - Homelander's hand clasps itself over your shoulder, squeezing a couple of times, as if testing the softness of your body - Don't even think about being late, young lady.

You don't know when he dissapears, as you stand there, frozen. One foot over the threshold of your room, breathing shallow and borderline panicked. It could've been seconds, could've been hours, until your head finally snaps to the side. He's not there anymore, you're alone in the corridor, and as you slam the door closed behind you, something you've only suspected before becomes abundantly clear.

There is something deeply wrong with Homelander.

[newrochellechallenger2019]

MANCHILD for @imperishablereverie

in any another circumstance, bumping into your ex twice a month would be considered stalking. unfortunately, when you and dodge had sat down in the diner for what would be your final date, you hadn't discussed who'd be getting the rodeos in the break-up. so, you both continued to travel up and down the country, horses in tow and all you could do was pray he wouldn't find some bullshit excuse to talk to you win you back.

arizona this week, texas the next. you pulled the reins tight and hopped off your horse, patting his flank in praise as you watched the scoreboards flash. allowed yourself a small smirk as your score rose above dodge's, putting you in first place and watched gleefully as he dropped down to second.

your prideful smirk doesn't falter as you leave the arena, your stallion's nose brushing against your shoulder, eager for his treat. as you are rounding the corner, a cowboy boot steps in your way and you sigh inwardly.

he looks good, almost too good for a man who'd been nearly thrown off a horse an hour ago. his cowboy hat was tipped low, like always but you could still see his blue eyes twinkling at you. however, the rest of his outfit made your nose turn up in disgust, dodge always looked like he got dressed in the dark, flannel shirts that were too big, jeans that were too tight and the colours never matched. when you were dating, you convinced yourself he did it ironically, but now you weren't so sure. but your gaze was drawn back to his face as his grin took up most of his expression, you weren't escaping this conversation.

'congrats.' dodge offers simply, still looking at you like you'd hung the stars in sky, not like you'd stomped all over his heart a year ago.

'thanks.' you say curtly, 'must suck to be so slow.' you couldn't help that comment, your sarcasm always seemed to slip out when you were around him, another issue you can blame him for.

his face changed then, eyebrows knitting together in surprise as he scoffed, 'seriously? i'm congratulating you.' his gaze turned hard, 'and i'm not slow.'

'no?' you tilt your head to the side mockingly, 'what word would you prefer? stupid? maybe useless?'

dodge's hands fall to his hips now, a sign of his growing anger, 'oh i get it. we're not talking about rodeos.'

'what the fuck else do i have to talk to you about?' you snap briskly, tugging your horse back towards his stall. dodge sidesteps so he's in still in front of you and you groan aloud this time, disinterest clear.

'c'mon...' he says, flashing his signature half-smirk that used to make you crumble, 'you looked so good riding that horse.' his voice has dropped to a gravelly whisper, an attempt at flirtation.

you blink at him blankly, 'that's what you went with? out of all the things to say to me, you chose that.'

dodge's smirk only grew, 'what's wrong with that? it's true!'

you shake your head, trying to ignore the familiar feeling curling in your stomach, 'whatever, dodge.' you push past him then, properly and lead your horse to his stall. dodge follows but doesn't say anything for a while, just watching you softly, leaning against the gate.

patting your horse and smiling at the way his lips smack as you feed him an apple, you turn to leave and dodge is still staring at you.

'jesus!' you startle, 'what are you doing?'

'waiting for you.' he shrugs, 'i wasn't done talking to you.'

'i was.' you mutter but there's nowhere you can go when he's leaning on the gate.

'can't we have a real conversation? enough dancing around each other and sniping every chance we get.' dodge pouted then, a rare sight, a failed attempt to garner sympathy from you.

you sigh, 'alright. one real conversation then we move on with our lives.'

he nods in agreement and as he goes to open his mouth to speak, you cut him off, 'how about when you told me your phone was dead when you were out doing god knows what with god knows who?' you held up a manicured finger and his jaw snapped shut, 'or how you'd always cum within seconds, pull out and fall asleep.'

'it wasn't seconds-' dodge protested uselessly, 'i don't think you made me cum once when we were together.' you reply stoically.

he frowned, 'you're exaggerating about this whole orgasm thing, like you exaggerate about everything and make me the bad guy to suit your little fantasy. i told you a million times that day that my phone died and you cling to this idea that i'm some cheat when you know i would never do that to you.'

'god you are such a manchild!' you snap, giving up on waiting for him to get out your way and vaulting over the fence in a less than dignified manner and storming off, but he was still hot on your heels.

'what does that even mean? because i screwed up a couple times? you think you're so much better than me, don't you? you love to act like i'm following you around like a lost puppy, like we were never dating! you think you've moved on but you always stop to talk to me, no matter how much you pretend it bothers you.' dodge rants as he storms after you, voice whipping in the wind and making the words inescapable.

you whirl around at that, curls bouncing, eyes glinting with unbridled rage. 'you don't what you're talking about.'

'don't i?' he taunts, stepping closer to you, hands ghosting over your waist. you hold his gaze, remembering how the brown in them made his eyes look even more endearing and almost hopeful.

you narrow your eyes as the tension crackles in the brisk air. before you can blink, his lips are crashing against yours in a desperate kiss, his hands cupping your cheeks and pulling you impossibly close. to your own surprise, you're not pushing him away or slapping him round the face, you're kissing him back with matched fervour.

dodge's hands are all over you now, running across your chest and your ass, slipping under your shirt to feel your lower stomach and you giggle into the kiss at how ticklish it feels. he bites your bottom lip, asking for entrance and you oblige, letting his tongue slide over yours.

the kiss breaks momentarily for him to pant, 'my truck-' and you're nodding without thinking, his arm sneaking around your waist and pulling to his side as you both half-run, half-stumble to his truck.

dodge's truck was such a familiar sight as you rounded the dirt track corner into the lot that your heart fluttered, though it looked a little more scuffed up then you remembered, a few more state stickers scattered across the back. your view is interrupted by dodge tilting your chin back to face him, smirking as he presses another kiss to your lips before you hear the sounds of keys jangling and the horse trailer door swings open. you freeze in place as dodge lowers the ramp and then turns to you.

'c'mon darling.' he murmurs casually, as if he does this all the time, extending his hand for you to take.

you stare at him slack-jawed, 'fuck off- no way-' you splutter yet dodge doesn't flinch.

'you don't wanna get caught with me, do you?' he shrugs but before you can protest, he's grabbing your arm and hoisting you into the trailer.

squealing, you stumble as he pulls you into his chest and you both topple into a pile of hay. dodge grunts but doesn't move you off him, instead attempting to dust himself off unsuccessfully.

'sorry.' you squeak and he snorts, 'you know what they say about rolling in the hay?' giving you a surreptitious wink.

you wrinkle your nose in distaste, 'you make one more crap joke and i'm leaving this godforsaken trailer.' yet, you're still unbuckling his jeans, letting your fingers brush reverently over his oversized golden belt buckle before tugging them down to his knees.

'let's just make this quick, yeah?' you whisper and all dodge can do is nod eagerly.

you free his half-hard cock from his boxers and your stomach flips, you'd forgotten how big it was. slowly, you let your fingers tangle in his bush and he nearly whimpers, head thrown back and cowboy hat sent flying, straw tangling in his dark brown strands. the tip of your tongue brushes the sensitive slit atop his dick and he definitely whimpers that time. your grin turns delicious as you carefully wrap your lips around the head of his cock. dodge moans and fists the hay beneath you two as you slowly take more of his dick in your mouth, your cheeks hollowing out as his tips hits the back of your throat.

'oh fuckkk.' dodge manages to muster as you finally take all of him, nose buried in his bush and inhaling the scent hungrily. gradually, you start bob up and down his length, cheeks hollowed out, and he moans, loud. 'that's it baby-' he whimpers in encouragement as you pick up the pace, slobbering all over his dick.

your tongue lavishes his tip, batting your eyelashes causing his moans to increase in volume. 'ah-ah- baby- you're killing me- ngh-' he whines, lost in the pleasure. you grin around his length, before swallowing more of it, tongue swirling. 'fuck- i'm- i'm- i'm-' his declaration a warning more than anything before you feel his salty sperm hit the back of your throat and you fight the urge to gag as it keeps coming, dodge's body shuddering beneath you, repeating yes deliriously.

after what feels like forever, the ropes of cum stop spurting down your throat and his body goes limp, he pants, grinning happily. you slowly slide your mouth off his cock, making sure to lick it clean of cum before swallowing diligently. 'let me see baby.' he grunts, flushed. you part your lips obediently, tongue out as proof. dodge chuckles breathlessly and lets his head fall back in the hay.

'still hate me? because that...' he gestures to his flaccid, dribbling dick, 'says otherwise, baby.'

you groan in mild annoyance, flopping down onto the dirty trailer floor, 'maybe i do like my men all incompetent.'

taglist: @gibsongirrl @glassmermaids @destinedtobegigi @blastzachilles @femme-lusts @glennussy @cha11engers @stanart4clearskin @artstennisracket @pittsick @jordiemeow @hyperloverofhyperfixations

[rexhya]

yandere!forestelf except he's obsessed with watching you sleep.

you clumsily crawled your way into his territory, clueless of the nearly 7ft tall monster that gaurded the forest, you don't look harmful in the slightest, he was actually about to let you go untill he saw it.

you, completely still in a cave, lying on your side like a ragdoll. in all his 26,000 years of livimg he wasn't very familiar with humans to be honest. they mostly stayed away from the forest, and he would always protect it. so this was unfamiliar to him, were you dead? he wasn't sure, so he went to check.

that was a bad idea, you woke up screaming as he politely poked your soft spots, you'd always heard of the infamous elf gaurd, in stories and music. never did you ever think you'd meet him.

"do not be afraid." his voice is a mix of so many things it's scary. airy winter snowflakes, rushing ocean waters. you don't reply. you can't understand him anyways.

the elf realizes this, and tries his best, but years of avoidance to your kind has left him stumped.

so he grabs a stick and begins to draw pictures.

"you...me...x?" you say aloud, a puzzled expression on your face. then he draws x's over your eyes and you whip your head up in fear, he was going to kill you.

the elf huffs and scratches out the drawings, now standing in all 7ft glory to, how you would say, play charades.

it take a while but eventually you get the message, "you came to check on me when i was sleeping? because you thought i was dead?"

he nods enthusiastically, and you smile. "oh how thoughtful."

after this you come as visit him often, and everytime you decide it's better you camp the night you can always find a tall elf staring at you from above, you've learned he doesn't need to sleep, which is why he's so fascinated bu you. the body completely shutting down for 8 hours or more? and being completely fine when restarted? hes rather impressed to say the least.

it gets a bit silly at times, the gaurd has made it a sort of ritual for you two. all day long he follows you around the forest silently watching as you gathered things you need or research the plethora of animals in the vicinity.

then when night comes, he scoops you up in his arms. like you're a child and rests your head where he has the bezt veiw to watch you sleep, breathing in soft, sometimes loud breaths to feul your body. you stopped fighting when your realizes the sleep you were getting was better then any cave floor could give you, Demitai is just happy you let him in the first place.

gets cutness aggression when he hold you, has to stop himself from pulling blood from your cheeks and tummy when he bites them.

[laughtalelogs]

sick - sanji x reader

rating - mature, MDNI 18+

word count - 860ish, just a quick blurb

warnings: mentions of your chest and piv, no beta reader, slight sub!sanji if you squint, mutual pining, slight exhibitionism, dirty thoughts, idk how to tag this lol it’s not smut but it’s still kinky

crossposted to ao3 @laughtalelogs

-

As much as Sanji denied it, he knew he was a sick, twisted bastard.

Standing like a shadow in the doorway, despite every cell in his body screaming at him to move, his feet planted firmly in the floor. The filter of his unlit cigarette smashed between his gritting teeth as he watched silently.

The way you ate your parfait entranced him, a beautiful display of skill on his part, layers of fluffy greek yogurt he had prepared the day before with spoiled milk, leftover strawberries, and homemade granola loaded on your spoon. The metal slips between plush lips, and when you pull it back out, it sparkles in the midday sun. The demon that resides in him wonders if his skin would do the same in your mouth.

Your pink tongue darts out to lick the remnants on from the corner of your mouth. He clutches the serving tray closer to his chest and he feels his knees tremble with each carefree swipe.

He wonders if you could taste his desperation in the snack, the way he had thought over each layer, scared that it wouldn’t satisfy the hungers in both of you.

Had he subconsciously picked the snack? He asks to himself, the shame of his perversions pulled him deeper in the shadows of his mind.

No, he knew what he had done.

And he enjoyed it.

That sick part of him wanted to see the white drip down your throat, to watch the satisfaction that spread across your face. He watched your fingers trace the edges of the cup, and he had never been jealous of a meal in his life.

You moan, scrapping the remnants of the bowl, you set it down on the deck beside you, sighing in satisfaction. Sanji didn’t think he’d last, recording the sound in his catalog of fappable material for later, as he stepped forward into the light, plastering his usual plastic, dopey smile as he approached you.

You kick your feet as you turn your attention back to the magazine in your lap, a lazy finger skimming the pages. The darkness he casts over you makes you peer up from the page, watching him reach over and swipe the crystal glass you had only set down a moment before.

“Hey, Ji,” the way you sing his name makes his heart hammer in his chest.

“Hi,” He answered lamely, cringing at how how high his voice had risen. He clears his throat, dry from looking down at you, if he looked closely, he could peer down your shirt. “I was just gonna take this for you. Did you enjoy the treat, princess?”

“Like always,” You smile wickedly, ”you always know how to satisfy me.”

He swallowed nothing, his tongue was cotton.

“I always aim to please,” He admits and he feels floaty, the scent of vanilla and strawberries infiltrating his nose. He turns his head to the side. If you kept looking at him like that, he was going to pass out.

“But,” You voice was low, itching the far reaches of his mind where the beast resides, mauling at his rational thoughts. His tie dangles in front of your face, and you reach out, thumbing the silk as he avoids your gaze. You watch his adam’s apple bob nervously as he tugs at the perfect windsor knot. “I want more.”

“Of cours-“ Sanji stops himself though, cursing himself to the pits of hell.

He had given all the crewmates parfaits, and had let Luffy eat the remaining portion. He feels his brow twitch. That idiot didn’t even appreciate it in the way you had, calling it weird pudding, out of all things. Now he had you, begging for more, and he couldn’t even provide that.

“I’m sorry, mon trésor,” He says, voice full of pity, “we are all out. Would you like anything else? I’ll do- I’ll make anything for you”

With a puckered lips and creased eyebrows, you mull over the idea. He wondered if he could get the same look out of you if he was buried between your legs, fanning feathery kisses in the crux of your thighs, sliding ever closer to your center, inhaling deep breaths of your pu-

“I think I’ll just wait,” You sweet voice breaks through his dazed, glossed over eyes, watching his face contort in horror and guilt.

“If you insist.” He jerks up, stiff as board, gripping the glass in his hands so hard his knuckles were stark white, casting a careful gaze that darted over your body. “I’ll leave you to your afternoon then.”

It was cute on him, you think to yourself. The humiliation caused by his own volition.

You watch him march awkwardly to the kitchen, avoiding Usopp and Chopper’s calls from the other side of the deck. The tray he shielded his lower desires, cup tremoring between deft fingers. You sigh, slumping over as soon as the galley doors slam shut.

A sick, twisted part of yourself wondered- what face would he make caged between your thighs? Maybe it’d be that same pathetic look he gave you on more than one occasion. A look that always wound up a tight coil in your stomach, in desperate need of release.

If only he could just take a hint.

—

I hope you enjoyed! I wrote this on my phone at like 4 am while listening to sza lmao. i’m still avoiding the other shit I need to write, but this was a nice break from them. back to writing for zoro!

liked this? check out my other fics - (x)

[keys-hellscape-1020]

Brown Eyes

A/N: sorry I disappeared y’all, I got a new job and I have like no free time. I’m hoping that once I get used to it I’ll have more time to write. In the mean time enjoy this short blurb.

Jason Todd x gn!Reader

Content warnings: Jason Todd is utterly in love with you, reader is described as having brown eyes (I feel that’s kinda obvious), reader is described as only wearing Jason’s shirt, Oral (reader receiving) but it remains vague, oral scenes are more for the intimacy than the smut, Jason Todd is SO cheesy while flirting.

————

Jason Todd loves the way your eyes look. He loves how they can change so drastically depending on the time of day. He loves how they catch the light and reflect it back so beautifully.

-

He loves when he slides into bed as the first rays of sunlight stream through the window, and while he hates waking you, he can’t help but feel warm as he presses a chaste kiss to your forehead at the sight of your sleepy yet loving expression when you stir. As he settles down and pulls the blankets up to cover you both he can’t help but admire how your eyes light up with a warm honey tone as they catch the red and oranges rays of the sunrise. Jason leans in and kisses your lips. He loves you more than words can express.

-

He loves when he wakes up to an empty bed, prompting him to go searching for you, only for his nose to be met with the smell of a cooking breakfast and his eyes to be blessed with the sight of you in the kitchen, clad only in one of his T-shirts. He watches from afar, leaning against the wall as he becomes entranced in the way the hem of his shirt dances deliciously across the tops of your thighs. When you begin to place food on plates he approaches you from behind, his hands circling around your waist to hold you close as he places his head on your shoulder.

“Thought you were just gonna stand there forever.” You quip as you gently bump your heads together, he returns the gesture affectionately.

“How could I stay put when the food looks so good.” He hums lowly, pressing his mouth against the skin of your neck, causing a bone-deep shiver to rack your chest. Jason chuckles at the sensation.

“The food’s gonna get cold.” You warn half-heartedly, pushing the food out of the way just as Jason spins you and places you on the counter before eagerly dropping to his knees.

“I want desert first.” Jason teases, snickering as you pretend to gag at his cheesy comment. The mood shifts quickly however as the sight of Jason playing with the hem of his shirt as he kisses the inside of your thighs sends a shiver down your spine and prompts you to let out a deep sigh. Jason loves the way your pupils darken with lust as you watch him, loves the way he can see you let go as he breaks you down before he builds you right back up.

-

He loves how you cuddle against him during aftercare. He loves how the colors of the movie you had insisted on watching dance across your eyes. He loves the captivated look on your face, how you lean further into him when a dramatic scene happens, and how he can feel you tense up when you get nervous.

He doesn’t know how long he’s been gazing at you for, but his trance is broken when you look up at him with a playful quirk in your brow.

“Are you even watching the movie?” You tease, stretching your neck to place a chaste kiss to a dark bruise on his collar bone.

He releases a deep sigh at the feeling of your lips against his skin and lets his head hit the back of the couch with a ‘thunk!’, prompting a strange sense of pride of when it succeeds in pulling a soft laugh from you. “Why would I watch a movie when you’re right here?” Jason coos, letting his eyes dance over the highlights of your face as you roll your eyes at his cheesy attempting at flirting. Jason remains completely undeterred from his antics however as you nuzzle back into his side, rewinding the movie slightly so you can catch up on what he had distracted you from.

-

Jason loves how you look against him as you sleep, cuddled into his side. How you drool on his shoulder and slightly tighten your grasp on him when he moves. He loves watching how the shadows dance across your face, running up slopes and sliding down hills, chased by his fingers as he traces the lines of your skin, committing them to memory.

He stops his movements and tenses as he feels you stir slightly, before relaxing as you move slightly to hide your face where his neck meets his shoulder. Despite his best efforts Jason can’t help but let out a soft laugh as he feels you mummer some sleepy nonsense into the skin there.

He tilts his head to rest it against yours as he releases a deep sigh at the feeling of you curled up next to him. He knows that if he wants you to be able to sleep tonight he’ll have to wake you up soon, but for now he is more than content to lie here with the love of his life and guard them while they rest their eyes.

[fckmebarnes]

like i’m whining for him as someone with an oral fixation like anything even his fingers after a long day … sigh </3 #needy4bucky

no me too :(

“whiny baby.” he tsks. you look up at him with doe eyes, tears blinking at the edge of your vision as he looks down at you.

you’re on your knees for him, a plush pillow underneath you as your cheek is leaned up against his clothed thigh, his metal hand caressing the other side of your face. he watches you as he moves his fingers down your cheek, towards the edge of your lips

your lips part slightly, enough for him to catch on. “mm.” he hums softly, pushing his thumb past your slightly parted lips before the pad of his digit was resting on your tongue. you hum in response, wrapping your lips around his thumb as you settle slightly.

“just want something of daddy’s to suck on, is that it doll?” you nod slightly, wrapping your tongue over his thumb as you suck on it gently, arousal pooling in your underwear. he chuckles slightly before taking his thumb from your mouth — a soft whine escaping your lips — as he reachers for his belt and undoing the fastener, your ears perking up as your eyes flicker down his clothed chest.

“daddy’s got something you can suck on, princess.” you whine softly as he takes his hard cock out of his jeans, your mouth watering as he strokes himself slowly.

his thumb that was just in your mouth gathers the pre cum at the tip of his dick, using it to jerk himself off slowly and spread it over his shaft. you licked your lips, and sitting up straighter with your feet under your bum.

“open wide, princess.” you lean in, letting your mouth fall open along with your tongue as he gently taps the tip of his cock on your tongue.

you feel how soft he is on your tongue, the salty pre cum exploding your tastes buds as you feel your cunt throb in response to the action. he merely watches you in amazement, eyes wide blown with lust and desire.

you wrap your lips around the tip of his cock before keeping your hands at your thighs, his flesh hand coming to grip the back of your head gently to keep you in place. “good girl, fuck…” his lips fall open as he curses, sitting back a bit to watch your entire being. your pretty lips wrapped around his dick as you open your mouth and lower yourself further, tongue running down his shaft and over a vein more prominent when he’s turned on.

“baby,” he grips the back of your head as his hips buck up in response to you twirling your tongue aron s the tip of his cock, flicking the slit gently earning a moan from him. “mouth feels so fuckin’ good, princess. making daddy feel so good.” your pussy flutters at the praise, trying to clench your thighs together to get rid of the tension

he notices, an eyebrow raised as your eyes stay shut — focusing on his he tastes and feels in your mouth and trying to ignore the feeling of your cunt throbbing needily. “here, baby.” he positions his boot to pry open your knees, and you take the hint.

your eyes stay closed as you move your body to allow his boot in between your thighs, pressing firmly against your throbbing clit. you moan around him, the vibrations making bucky moan in response back.

“use daddy’s boot to rub your pussy, princess. make a mess while you suck me off like a good girl.”

[ageofstarkey]

nervous energy ✰ m. riddle

summary: it’s just been one of those days, and you seek out matthéo to make it better.

pairing: best friend! (but maybe something more?) matthéo x reader

warnings: nothing really!! just some very vague mentions of anxiety related thingssss

note: another lil baby matthéo blurb!! just love-sick théo being an absolute softie for reader :’)))) also if you’re new here - i headcanon matthéo as french (hence the accent on the e!! so his name would be pronounced muh-tay-o, and théo would be tay-o bc i think it’s a cute nick name) okay okay anyways hope you enjoy!! feel free to submit hp requests (marauders or original era!! no smut!! <3)

masterlist

reblogs & comments are so appreciated <3

✰ ✰ ✰

with a quiet little sigh, you knock at the door of the boy’s dormitory. you’re filled to the brim with nervous energy, fingers worrying at the sleeves of your sweater as you wait.

after what feels like a near lifetime, the door swings open with a loud, familiar groan. matthéo stands on the other side, and the mere sight of your best friend causes you to lose any semblance of composure.

before he can even so much as say hello, you’re throwing your arms around his neck. “woah - hey” he stumbles back but quickly steadies himself, wrapping tentative arms around your waist. “what’s wrong?” his voice is soft in a way it only ever is around you, and it takes everything in you not to break down and cry.

“bad day” you murmur weakly into the fabric of his t-shirt. your voice is muffled, but his arms tighten around you in silent understanding. “i just feel weird”

“d’you wanna talk about it?”

you make an awkward attempt at a shrug, arms still wrapped firmly around matthéo’s neck. “i don’t think so.”

“okay. that’s alright.” he’s quiet for a few seconds, one hand stroking up and down the length of your spine absentmindedly. “is there anything you need?”

you sigh softly as you pull away from matthéo. your arms fall back to your sides, and you try to ignore the way one of his hands remains firmly on your waist. “can i just… stay here for a little?”

his lips turn upwards in the barest hint of a grin. “you can stay as long as you’d like.”

[wisteriasymphony]

Chloe had knocked over Marinette's tray at lunch earlier that day. It wasn't anything new, just like the way Chloe had started making oinking noises to Sabrina when Marinette had bent down to clean it up. Or like the way Chloe had said that Marinette didn't really need the extra calories, so she was actually helping her after all.

Lucky Lucky Ladybug kept replaying the scene in her mind, over and over, thinking about just how stupid Chloe would've felt if Tikki had let Marinette transform and give Chloe a talking-to as Ladybug. She had woven the string of her yo-yo between her fingers into a cat's cradle, and every time her hands would stretch apart, the yo-yo would spin on its track. Then she'd bring her hands back together to catch the yo-yo mid spin, the metal body clacking against the bones in her hands. Spin, then clack. Spin, clack. Spin, clack.

Chat Noir had been talking for the past few minutes, but Ladybug never bothered to listen to him anymore. He had probably just made one of his awful puns again, based on the way he started stammering.

"Oh, uh, s-so the joke is that it's a play on the word—" "Have you ever thought that maybe, if you have to explain all of your jokes, you're not funny?" Chat Noir got quiet, his shoulders falling. Ladybug kept her eyes on her yo-yo. "I'm sorry, milady," Chat Noir apologized. "I just assumed you didn't understand the punchline." "Maybe you should come up with jokes other people understand then. That way people might actually laugh at them." Spin, clack. Spin, clack. Ladybug kept imagining Chloe's face, with her pale blue eyeshadow and her cakey makeup.

Chat Noir started to twist his fingers together, the claws on his thumbs digging into his gloved hands. It wasn't anything new—people having little patience with him, that is. His father had gotten him used to it by now. Chat Noir knew that the right thing to do in such situations was just to acquiesce, and that when you acquiesced people liked you more for it. "I noticed you and Rena were on television the other day. How did that go?" Ladybug hunched over herself, scoffing as she wound the string of her yo-yo tighter around her fingers. She had started bring Renared to press conferences and fan meetups because she could trust that Alya wouldn't act like an idiot or say stupid things. Alya was a good friend like that, willing to pick up Chat Noir's slack. Plus, doing things with Rena instead meant that Marinette and Alya could hang out for the rest of the day, and Marinette would actually enjoy herself. Doing anything of that with Chat Noir... would mean she'd be hanging out with Chat Noir. Bad pickup lines and worse jokes included.

"It was fine," Ladybug huffed, rolling her eyes. "Why do you even care?" "Oh- well, uhm. You just used to take me, and I was wondering if you had a reason that you... well... stopped."

One time during an interview, Chat Noir had derailed the entire conversation talking about the intricacies of whether or not their group of holders counted more as a religious or a political organization, entirely unaware that nobody could even begin to care about such a thing. Spin, clack. Spin, clack.

Ladybug thought about the way Chloe's face had scrunched up when she oinked at Marinette. Ladybug thought of Chat Noir's stupid awkward stammer. Ladybug thought about having to admit to her mother that her grades were getting worse.

Ladybug trapped the yo-yo in her hands for the last time, almost trying to crush it.

"It's because she's better at it than you, and I like you better when I don't have to hear you talk. Does that make you happy?!"

Chat Noir almost answered—No, actually, knowing that people didn't like hearing him talk didn't make him happy at all. But he'd learned by now that when Ladybug asked him questions like that, she wasn't actually asking and a response would only make her angrier.

"I'm sorry. I'll talk less, milady."

"I told you to stop calling me that."

"...I'm sorry."

Maybe Chloe could pick on Chat Noir for a change. He deserved it more than she did.

[honeyblackberries]

feeling absolutely deliriously horny for true form sukuna (18+)

true form sukuna who barely waits for the cum to stop spilling out of his bottom cock before he jerks out and moves to fill you with the top one.

large hands grab your face, fingers digging into your cheeks as he forces your gaze on where the two of you connect. his bottom cock glistens with your wetness but what catches your attention is the way he’s placed his top cock at your entrance. 

“wait–” you’re sore. taking his size again so soon would be too much. 

sukuna only grunts in response, annoyed by your pleas. he won't let any of his seed go to waste. you should be grateful he allows you such an honour, brat. but your body doesn’t make it easy for him, his thick head is barely able to fit inside. another sound of irritation slips from him and you can tell this is where his patience ends. 

it’s filthy the way he spits with his stomach mouth, saliva dripping down his tip and onto your pussy. his other set of hands massaging it in to loosen you up.

"kuna–"

"if you can still talk then i'm not finished fucking you."