#was definitely a little drunk

[wenn-ich-tanzen-will]

.

[seiwas]

there is a very specific image in my head of early-mid 20’s iwaizumi hajime

[wasabi-gumdrop]

in dunmeshi post canon Marcille probably finds out how young Kabru is and experiences a mild crisis. like he can’t possibly have enough life experience to do government work, he needs to get out there and live it up before committing to this, otherwise he’s gonna regret wasting his youth

but then he tells her, actually he survived the Milsiril Military Homeschool Institute™️ and also spent a crazy year Getting A Lot Out of His System in Khaka Brud and maybe he uses an elvish euphemism that roughly translates to ‘planting a harvest worth a thousand generations’ and Marcille is like. you don’t actually know what that means young man, haha you’re just saying that as a little joke right Kabru, haha what do you mean Kabru please what do you mean—

[blindmagdalena]

Omg could you maybe do “The sun rising over the horizon as they chat through the night” with homelander and maybe venus!reader? A standard reader would be wonderful too though ☺️

ohhh, venus!reader!!! it's been too long since i thought about her! yes, absolutely. 🖤

homelander x reader. dialogue from this list of newly wed prompts. reader is the supe Venus, a Poison Ivy inspired superhero. ❤️🌿 1.3k and 18+ for saucy imagery and some heavy petting, but no outright smut. mostly a sentimental affair.

Intimacy is a strange word. It’s the sort that can be used to describe the closeness of a wide variety of different relationships, be they platonic or romantic. It strikes Homelander that he’s had very, very few relationships that he would classify as truly intimate.

But that’s what this feels like right now. You lay atop him, nothing but skin between your bodies. It isn’t just your shared nakedness that makes this intimate, though.

It’s the tenderness in your eyes as you gaze down at him through heavily lidded eyes, lips curved in a gentle smile. It’s the way you tilt your head at the same time he lifts his hand, knowing he intends to stroke your cheek with his knuckles well before he does it. It’s the way you sigh the warmth of your breath onto his lips.

It wasn’t always like this. There was a time where he couldn’t stand you: at least, that’s what he thought it was. You had a way of putting him off balance, agitating him in ways few people could. There were times when he wanted to throttle you for the ease with which you would brush him off.

It turned his world upside down when he realized you’d been flirting with him the whole time.

“What’re you thinking about?” You ask idly, leaning against his hand. He adjusts his hand to support your cheek in his palm, rubbing his thumb along the rise of your cheek.

“You,” he answers, smiling at how you scrunch your nose.

“What about me?” You press, turning your head to kiss his palm.

He inhales a slow breath through his nose, exhales a little raspberry. “You and me. Where we are, how we got here.”

“Well,” you begin, folding your arms to rest them atop his chest. “It all started this afternoon when I sent you a picture of a blooming Middlemist Red–the rarest flower in the world, I’ll remind you–and you texted back ‘Not The Petals I’m Thinking About Spreading,’ which, inexplicably and against all logic, made me incredibly horny. So, I came home, took off all your clothes and rode you stupid.”

As you speak, a grin slowly spreads across Homelander’s face. “Wow. You got it bad, huh?”

“I married you, didn’t I?” You give back, quirking a brow.

“Ch’yeah, but even so. Sheesh. Embarrassing.” “I’m going to kill you,” you say through a smile, turning to bite his hand. He laughs as you chew ineffectually on it, continuing to stroke your cheek regardless. 

“Yeah? I think this approach is gonna take you awhile,” he muses, watching as you gnaw at the meat of his hand just below his pinky.

Letting his hand go with a soft pleh noise, you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. “Yeah, I intend it to. At least a solid fifty years. You’ll suffer real slow. That’s why they use spoons instead of knives to torture people, you know. It hurts more when it’s dull,” you say, leaning in to press a sweet kiss to his lips.

“Fifty years, huh? That’s it?” He asks, wiping your own spit on your shoulder. “You know we’re probably gonna live a lot longer than that, right?”

“Yeah, well, you never know what the divorce rates will be like in the future. You know what the leading cause of divorce is, right?” You ask, refolding your arms, resting your chin atop them.

“We’re not getting divorced,” he says, unwilling to entertain the thought even playfully.

“The leading cause of divorce is marriage,” you say very seriously anyways.

“You are… so incredibly lame,” he says, voice heavy with the severity of his accusation.

“And yet,” you say, wiggling your ring finger.

He takes your hand and pulls it to his lips, kissing that inconspicuous little gold band. It matches his wider band perfectly. “And yet,” he echoes by way of agreement. “Hard to believe I finally pinned you down.”

“Oooh,” you purr, brows lifting. “Tell me more about how you pinned me down.”

“You’re done for now. Shackled. Legally bound,” he expounds, smoothing his hands down the curves of your body, sinking his grip into the soft swell of your ass. You laugh, moving your hands to kiss his chest just above the beat of his heart.

“Mmm, see, I recall our honeymoon differently. I remember you being the one all tied up,” you say, a wicked glint in your eyes.

True. You surprised him with that one, ensnaring him in a tangle of vines and keeping him like that for hours under the narrative of “breaking him in.” It had worked, rocked his world so hard that the thought alone was enough to send a hungry pang all the way to his core, despite having just thoroughly had you. It isn’t as though he can ever get enough. You’re intoxicating.

He inhales deeply, savoring the rich smell of you. You always have the lingering scent of blossoms and sandalwood on your skin, remnants of your powers woven into every fiber of your being. It gives you a sense of wildness, leaves him feeling as though he’s laying claim to you every time he touches you. 

“I love you,” he says, eyes soft, utterly drunk on the feeling. He watches how easily those three simple words disarm you, draining the slyness from your eyes and replacing it with a tenderness reserved exclusively for him. For as much as the world thinks it knows you, it never will. Not the way he does. Let them go on believing you’re part hero, part villainess, that all your stems are barbed with thorns. He’ll keep the truth of your softness a secret for his hands alone. 

“I love you, too,” you whisper, cupping either side of his face as you close in to kiss him properly, parting his lips with your tongue to taste, to feel, to consume. There is a hunger in you that mirrors his own, each of you taking bites of the other without ever truly growing full or satisfied. 

He realized a long time ago that no amount of you would ever be enough, and that was when he knew he had to make you his forever. The rings on your fingers are just a small token of that. It’s the scars you carve into each other’s hearts that scream the true nature of your love.

Time melts away in the wake of your presence in his. You make him laugh, bringing him the kind of peace he’d only ever dreamed of. There is an ease that comes about when you truly love someone, when you can not only show them your deepest darkness, but your most nonsensical self. He’s never afraid that you will laugh at him. He knows unconditionally that you only ever laugh with him. When he is vulnerable, you bring sobriety. When he is afraid, you don armor.

In the span of a single night, you are his lover, his rival, his spouse, his menace and his dearest friend. The two of you are so wholly consumed by one another, neither of you realize that the night has ended until the dawn comes crawling in through the windows.

“God, what time is it?” You ask, dumbstruck by the encroaching light.

“I don’t care,” Homelander answers unhelpfully, tugging you back down into his arms. “Fuck it, let’s stay in bed all day, sleep through it. I like the night better anyways. No one to bother us,” he says, kissing a line up your throat. “Let’s play hooky.”

You sigh through a smile, carding your fingers through his hair. “You know that I’m supposed to be the bad influence, right?”

“Step up your game, then,” he says, sucking a mark at your neck that threatens to bruise. The way you shiver against his tongue is fucking delicious. “Be worse.”

He inhales sharply at the firm press of your hand slipping between his legs.

“If you insist,” you say, feigning exasperation. He grins broadly.

Who ever said honeymoons had to end?

[sappho-favourite-pupil]

MDNI!!!

[thegreatyin]

monster and pain for the scoundrel?

(original ask game here!)

Monster: Is your OC monstrous in any way? Is there something that makes them monstrous? Are they aware of their own monstrosity? Do they accept it or reject it?

I mean. I suppose there is the obvious elephant in the room.

Most of the Scoundrel's bat HRT symptoms are currently... superficial at best. They have fangs, and they've already grown horns, but it doesn't really mean anything- their internal organs, reasoning, instincts, etc are all pretty much entirely human. This is routinely a problem for them. They hate it so much. They don't know what'll happen when they truly become more bat than person-

Ahem. Coughs. Anyway.

By-and-large, the Scoundrel is embracing her monstrosity with open and almost too eager arms. She is going "YES... HAHA... YES!!!!" through a window while wearing a sickos T-shirt. She is jumping up and down like a happy rabbit. She is vibrating at a rate of approximately five gazillion trillion bazillion happy bats per hour. She is extremely aware of it and she could literally not be more overjoyed about it.

This is what she wished for, after all. This is what's going to fix her.

...and if it doesn't, well. There's always East.

(There's another aspect of her that can arguably be counted as monstrous, but- well. Let's talk about it next question.)

-

Pain: What's the worst pain your OC has ever felt? Do they have a high pain tolerance?

To put it as succinctly as possible; The Scoundrel has violant eyes.

She did not always have violant eyes. In fact, for most of her life, they were just a normal shade of brown.

And then he happened to play through a certain Exceptional Story, and realized he couldn't stand to forget even a single moment of what he saw.

Things... escalated. Quickly. For some time, she had all but vanished from the Neath- and when she returned, she had a new drive, a new persona, and eyes nobody could stand to forget.

She did this to herself. Eagerly. Happily. And it hurt like nothing else in the world. Turned her blood a few shades shy of the funny neathbow color too, just for good measure.

This wasn't the thing that necessarily created her high pain tolerance, but damn if it wasn't close. Nowadays, the Scoundrel can shrug off almost any amount of pain if he really puts his mind to it. Even if she's usually too much of a stuck-up jerk to act like her high constitution score means anything on a daily basis.

[rubenesque-as-fuck]

Also had a *different* dude tonight start saying some shit about, "Womens muscles could never be as big or as good as a man's." To which I responded, "All right my guy, then let's arm wrestle and see who's got bigger muscles then"

Shockingly, he did not take me up on this offer*

[kirishwima]

so i had my first mosh pit experience today and all i can think of is. Suguru Geto, the quiet, reserved metalhead, pulling a stumbling you out of a mosh pit, grabbing you by the arm when you nearly fall over and dragging you back with a chuckle and a 'careful there' spoken right into your ear. next morning you wake up with finger-like bruises round your arm, and his phone number tucked inside your back pocket. you'll be sure to call and thank him

[mad-hunts]

i needdd a roleplay where barton ends up going with another muse to a club despite the fact that he very much isn't a party person and gets drunk, much to the other muses surprise, because barton is a 'happy drunk' and as a result... they literally spend hours there — but then stumble out near closing with some glowstick bracelets and necklaces that they got sometime during the night.

as they're doing it, though, they have their arm's interlinked around each other as they laugh over literally nothing together. and although they might seem a bit weird to onlookers, it doesn't matter to them because they're having fun okok (and they plan on taking an taxi home OFC). because i just think that would be SO fun to roleplay NGL

[jekyll-doodles]

Hey so weird question. Is your human 049 and human 035-A from your wakey wakey au together? Like dating or something?

Honestly they could be, but its not outrightly Canon in my verse. I may draw them interacting as just friends, or as a ship for a bit, but neither is more true than the other.

They are close friends first and foremost. Whether not they are also In Love is more of an afterthought.

[pablohunie1993]

sadly i do not think john constantine will be seeing the barbie movie but i know chas chandler will

[ray935sworld]

Jrrge lorenzo is protecting young riders from feeling exhausted/ stressed/ self hated about bad results by making positive aggressive comments

("hey looser, are you too afraid they hate you when you show them you're real potential?" "Don't hold back you softy. Or did you not understand racing" "Fick off, the only thing that could stop you was such a rookie mistake.")

Sorce: I made it the fuck up bc look at the way he was raised and tell me he doesnt recognize trauma pattern and acts avouf it and tries to shield kids form it.

Dani in the back smiling about the confused faces, when they still try to figure out if they're being insulted or complimented

[boogiewoogieweeb]

if i had a cent for every time jared harris played a veteran, harried sea captain who ordered his loyal first to have a female poc with ties to a powerful folkloric creature thrown off his ship bc of his own internalized self-loathing, i would have two cents. which isn't a lot, but it's weird that it happened twice.

[quietwingsinthesky]

looking up very important information for tomorrow’s drabble such as “can the doctor get drunk”

[charmac]

Just watched Fool’s Paradise!

[stardustedstories]

@stcrforged liked this post for a short starter!

"Anyone give you de tour yet? Or are dey leavin' dat ta me?" he asks with a grin. He's not sure how long this particular newbie has been around, but apparently he's got his teacher hat on today.