#variety what the FUCK are you talking about.

[jethrowest]

let me see you stripped down to the bone…

- stripped by depeche mode

congratulations! you’ve been hired as homelander’s entire glam squad! what an opportunity! now let’s try real hard not to let the fumes get to you, okay?

pairing : homelander/afab reader

word count : 5.6k

warnings : homelander in and of himself, toxic workplace environment, something akin to stockholm syndrome, fingering, smut. 18+, mdni

special thanks to @blindmagdalena @sehtoast @homeb0ys and @clockworkzeppelin for letting me scream at you about this!

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Homelander is an asshole.

That doesn’t bother you much. You’ve dealt with plenty in this field, which means you’ve learned how to make life easier for all parties. That particular learning curve includes when to stand out and blend in, at times concurrently depending on what variety of asshole they happen to be.

As a whole, the makeup artists and hairstylists at Vought take care of The Seven and go where they’re needed. And as a cosmetologist, you were hired to provide both services for Homelander and Homelander only, which you consider to be one of the most prestigious stamps one could add to their professional passport.

Before you became official, you were colorfully threatened by a Ms. Ashley Barrett, who, after the fact, had no qualms throwing you into the lion’s den to figure your own shit out.

In no uncertain terms were you told that if you fucked any part of this up, your sparkling resume would look best as something to sit her smooth, bare ass on while getting fucked on top of her desk. No lube or protection. It would then be tossed exactly like her salad.

Not an image you could have ever predicted crossing your mind. Honestly, you should have stopped her right there and walked your happy little ass out of her office toward pastures that might have not been greener (you were being handsomely compensated), but certainly not as toxic. While the red flags were a color you couldn’t quite ignore, you were also curious about why they stood out so much more than they did regarding previous employers.

None of this is to say you live under a rock. Anyone who has access to the internet is ambushed daily by these Supes’ personal lives. Homelander’s track record as far as choice in partners went hadn’t been ideal, so you understand that made him less popular at the time. That of course has nothing to do with you or your capabilities.

You opt to wear gray-colored glasses, seeing everything with a neutral blend of black and white. As much as possible anyway.

Nevertheless, curiosity killed the cat. But hopefully not your career.

The first day was awkward to say the least. Immediately, you knew you weren’t going to like your coworkers.

Glints of sympathy changed how they perceived you. A target, whether they intended for this to happen or not, was nailed to your forehead, and it made them buzz around you like avid, greedy wasps keen on seeing how rapidly the honeybee will be brutalized. You didn’t much care for going cross-eyed while staring at that target whenever you crossed paths. They didn’t know you, yet because of who you were working under, deemed you helpless. They didn’t give you a chance to establish yourself before branding you a victim.

Why should you respect them?

Small talk wasn’t entertained either, as their judgment tarnished any future encounters. They ostracized you once you showed no interest in engaging with them. That didn’t disappoint you. You weren’t here to make friends.

You do wonder how those before you fared: if they were jaded when they arrived or if they couldn’t help but succumb to the pressures of being at the top rung of a very unstable albeit sought after ladder.

Ms. Barrett quickly introduced you to Homelander, her parting gift before leaving the two of you alone.

You weren’t completely nervous in his presence. He wasn’t any different to you than the other celebrities you’d worked on, except he could rip you in half like a piece of paper if he was so inclined. But he’s the hero of this country’s story, so really, you should have nothing to worry about.

His demeanor, you noted, suggested arrogance, annoyance, and boredom. All things you’re used to. So you offered your hand to shake, which he eyed with a slightly upturned nose before grabbing, told him it was a pleasure to meet him and got straight to business.

Looking back, he was clearly expecting more out of you. Maybe not a display as excessive as getting on your knees and professing your undying love, but close enough. Somewhere in the middle, perhaps.

Part of you believes he might have also counted on fear. To you, he’s not anything or anyone unknown. Another big name in a fancy suit with impossible demands.

You were given a routine to follow and products to use. You did as you were instructed and found the process to be simple and, as Homelander’s expression revealed, uninspiring.

While you were utilizing a face brush to apply powder, he must have decided he was done enduring your lack of enthusiasm, because he suddenly asked, “What are you wearing?”

You stopped for a split second, no longer than, and continued. “The name of my clothing designer, you mean?”

He scoffed, waving his gloved hand at you, almost knocking the applicator you held to the ground. “No, your perfume. What are the top notes?”

You laughed and that seemed to confuse him. “Why, you want a bottle?”

“I don’t like it.” He sniffed sharply and cleared his throat. “Smells like you should be on the corner selling your used body parts.”

Ding ding ding. Alarm bells and red flags galore. You enjoy a challenge, however, and are a bit of a masochist, so you persevere.

“Well, what doesn’t smell like a cheap hooker to you? I’ll start wearing that instead.”

He cocked a brow, studying you. Trying to figure out if you were being serious or mocking him.

“It’s your first day.” A warning. “Are you on your best behavior, or can you do better?” He leaned forward in his chair, forcing you backward. “You should be working harder to prove yourself. Prove your worth.” He sat back again and shrugged. “Or maybe you really are worth as much as that dumpster juice you doused yourself in.”

At this point, he more than likely envisioned your happy little ass getting offended and storming out of the room. Breaking down, sobbing. Questioning why he was being so rude. One of those or, better yet, a nifty combination.

You’ve heard worse, unfortunately for him. Not always directed at you, but that doesn’t matter. You can handle it.

“You’re absolutely right,” you stated calmly, folding your arms across your chest. He looked at you with pretentious, petulant intrigue. “It is my first day, and I want to make a good impression. Which is why I’m asking you what you would like me to wear so I can continue to keep that good impression intact and, as our professional relationship develops, stay on top of it.”

Homelander’s mouth twitched. He sighed deeply and slouched in his seat, staring at the wall to the left of him. Then he deigned to cast his gaze back at you, resting his cheek on his index and middle finger. He tapped the arm rest with his other hand.

“Ugh, fine. Whatever.” A pause followed that lasted longer than necessary. Were you meant to guess? “Just wear something, I dunno, less. If you would have done your homework like a good little peon, you’d know I have super senses. Highly developed. Can you even imagine what that entails?”

Finally, he freed the canvas you were nearly finished with, and you flicked the soft bristles across the bridge of his nose. You smiled, more to yourself than him.

Felt rather on the nose, as the saying goes.

He didn’t comment on your grin. You didn’t give him time to. But he did huff like you were being obtuse on purpose.

“I can try. And my imagination is giving me some less-than-ideal scenarios,” you replied. Another pause. At least he was letting you do your job again.

You don’t know what compelled you to keep going, but something about his lack of a real answer made you carry on. “Do you have a favorite flower or baked good? Maybe a spice?”

Homelander almost glared up at you. You say almost because, for whatever reason, it didn’t seem like he was directing that harshness at you, though former words and actions proved otherwise. Something inside, perhaps. Or outside of this enclosed space.

“I already told you what to wear. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

You took the hint and remained quiet the rest of your session. Soon, you were done.

As you were packing and tidying up your station, he took it upon himself to stand behind you. He lingered over your shoulder, watching the scene play out like he was director and star and you were barely an ant on the sidewalk he acknowledged before squashing.

The heat radiating off of him was impossible to dismiss, a wall of it barricading your backside. He clasped his fingers underneath his cape and inched closer. You thought he was as close to you as he could get without touching you. He was that warm.

When you glanced up, he was staring at you through the mirror. As absurd as it was, you managed to get chills. Goosebumps broke the surface of your skin.

“Fresh chocolate chip cookies. Straight out of the oven. Like mom used to make.” He flashed an unnerving smile before turning to exit.

From there on out, even after you bent to his will and found a gourmand scent that matched what he described, Homelander tested you. Your work ethic, clothing choice, eating habits, and most of all, patience.

Your parents would ask how you were liking your job, how it was working alongside the Supes- not to mention the most famous of all- and you’d lie through your teeth. You felt you had no choice, Ashley’s threat ringing in your ears.

Resume, bare ass, tossed salad...

Oh yeah, it’s going great! They’re all super flexible. I couldn’t be happier!

At least that pun made you feel a little better about hiding the shame of what you’ve allowed yourself to take on.

This was all in the first few weeks. It started to get a little easier after that, which is surprising considering more was added to your to-do list.

You should have moved on before starting. But, for whatever asinine reason, you didn’t.

Every time you go back to your apartment and assess your appearance in the bathroom mirror, you wonder who’s making who up here. He’s changing your looks more than you are his. You’re like his human doll.

You’ve put up with a lot over the years, but this takes the cake and shoves it in your face. As fucked as it is, the flavor is growing on you. Like a fungus. Growing, nonetheless.

You can’t stop thinking about him.

It’s innocent enough, you try convincing yourself. Making sure you have the right outfit laid out the night before, the right lunch (no onions or fish or anything “freaky”!), etc. He is your superior, after all. You shouldn’t be viewing him in any other light.

He’s the most frustrating aspect of your existence these days, but he’s also the one you’re around the most. His penchant for workplace gossip and how unintentionally funny he is tends to make him palatable, which has regrettably become an understatement.

Months go by. You’ve witnessed how alone he truly is. How he has nothing outside of performing his tricks on Vought’s all-encompassing stage. And when he begins asking for your input, starts doing things for you that are so blatant it’s perplexing, you find your stress and vexation melting into cumbersome fascination.

It’s embarrassing. You don’t have the courtesy of enough time to dwell on your feelings toward the situation either, from beginning to whatever end you might be met with. You suppose that could be beneficial in the long run.

It also hits you when you least expect it; when you really don’t want it to.

Your body doesn’t wait until you finally have a moment alone. It decides, while you’re helping Homelander with his skincare routine that he insisted upon because you know more than these vacuous corporate douche-bags, to heat up without warning and slither from your head to your heart until it grasps you unfairly between your legs.

You try not to step into momentary paralysis. You understand to what extent his powers reach. It’s not like he doesn’t go on and on about them. About himself.

Whatever he notices, it’s not right away. A palpable tension fills the air between the two of you eventually. But it takes a more significant amount of time than you would have anticipated to permeate the natural flow of things.

Fuck, you can’t even be safe inside here, where your thoughts, whatever they may be, are yours. You can’t even have yourself. He has every part of you, and you are willingly relinquishing that control.

Your evening, once you can have it, consists of combing over every decision you’ve made leading up to this strange, disorienting space you find yourself occupying. All it does is leave you exasperated in a much different way than before and with an unsettling observation (or hallucination):

Was that the tail end of the American flag outside your window?

You are unacceptably late.

Rushing around, you throw on the first top and bottoms you see from your closet and spritz some perfume on your neck and wrists. You don’t check your phone. You’re afraid of what will pop up on your screen. And, frankly, you don’t have the time.

Your only option for transportation is the subway, as you’re sure the special vehicle from Vought is long gone. Why would they wait for someone like you, even if you’re practically Homelander’s personal assistant? One of his only friends. You doubt he has more than Black Noir, and that isn’t as perfect as it appears to the casual viewer.

You dread what kind of explosion you’re without a doubt walking into once you show your miserable ass up. You’re going to smell like everyone on this train. He’s going to go ballistic.

The question remains: why are you continuing to put yourself through this? It’s not your circus, yet somehow, the monkeys have become your liability.

You know, deep down, what keeps you going back. It’s simply too ridiculous to admit aloud.

Making your way past security, hurriedly presenting your badge, you realize you forgot to brush your teeth, or at the very least, gargle some mouthwash. You thank your lucky stars when you open your purse to a pack of gum tucked away in one of the compartments.

It will have to do.

When you open the door to Homelander’s dressing room, you see a couple of employees standing near the counter where the bag of supplies has been opened and rifled through, looking like they might soil themselves, a frantic Ashley, and an extremely pissed off Homelander in the middle of it all.

Reflexively, you cringe. You attempt to wipe any trace from your features, but it’s too late. Ashley is glaring daggers at you and Homelander can hardly bring himself to look in your direction. The others don’t matter to you. They never did.

“I’m so sorry I’m late. I know there’s no excuse-”

“You’re goddamned right, there’s no excuse! I don’t give a shit if god and his whole fucking choir of angels came down from heaven and divinely called you to give them a makeover! What were you thinking?!”

You’re about to answer, though you comprehend her query is more or less rhetorical. She interrupts your slightly open mouth while gesturing wildly, proving your point.

“Oh, that’s right! You weren’t thinking at all, were you?! But I do believe you’ve thought long and hard about what’s at stake here. And you know damn well we at Vought don’t tolerate this kind of sloppy behavior. Not to mention the way you’re dressed! It’s adding insult to injury!” Her hand swipes at the air, the length of your outfit, and you glance down, recognizing how comically mismatched you are. Her correct observation affects you more than it would have months prior, stinging your ego- one of the many things that’s been shelved in order to accommodate the person who won’t even grace you with a glance.

A dramatic groan cuts short any further commentary from the redhead, perpetually stretched thin between her absurd duties.

“Jesus Christ, Ashley, why are your big fucking horse gums still flapping?” Homelander’s booming voice slices through your mind like a jarring, dense migraine. He pinches his brow between middle finger and thumb, eyes closed. “I want you and Tweedledee and Tweedledum t’get the fuck out. Now.”

Ashley is plainly dumbfounded, struggling to see where she went wrong (a pattern when it comes to dealing with the volatile leader of The Seven), mouth agape. She shakes her head. “But sir, are you-?”

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about or doing. Clearly.”

Ms. Barrett turns a shade paler, staring at Homelander and blinking owlishly before snapping herself out of her stupor. She hurries her lackeys out of the room, shooing them along like a pair of misbehaving toddlers. She doesn’t give a final look, no further warning. She merely shuts the door behind her.

You also hear it lock.

What the hell does she think is going to happen?

You should have stopped this while you had the chance. You should have never taken this job. You should have stood up for yourself and walked out. You should have you should have you should-

“Who the fuck do you think you are?”

His caustic tone sends shivers down your spine. It’s unlike anything you’ve heard come out of him. And you’ve heard enough.

Again, you open your mouth. It fills with blood, thick and metallic and more potent than the mint from your gum. You’re silenced by it.

He stalks toward you and grabs you hastily by the shoulders, swiveling you around so you’re face-to-face with the choices you’ve made. Your mirrored image is reflected back at you, exhausted and searching for any last shred of who you might be beneath his heavy palms.

“Look at yourself! Do you even recognize who’s staring back at you?” No.

“What kind of game are you playing, hmmm? Is this… humiliating spectacle you’re putting on for the money? Your pathetic career? Like it’s goddamned rocket science to pick up a can of hairspray and use it. Monkeys have hands.” He makes a noise that’s akin to a snorting horse, exhaling forcefully past his nostrils. “I mean, did you really think you could pull a fast one on me?” He clutches your jaw, squeezing it between middle and thumb. Every muscle in your body tenses, your heart picking up rhythm.

“Spit that fucking gum out. Don’t think I can’t hear you grinding it between your molars like a dumb animal. You aren’t a mama bird, are you? Y’don’t have cute little baby birds t’force-feed your regurgitated leftovers, do you? Eugh, gross.”

You take a deep breath and exhale through your nose. It presents you with a false sense of security. You do as you’re told, and it lands on the floor in front of your shoe, saliva dangling on a thread as withered as your sanity.

Suddenly fresh breath seems like the most insignificant issue, when Homelander himself once made it out to be something earth-shattering.

You’re such a fool.

He leans in and sniffs your throat. Your fingers lengthen and bend.

You’re so many things at once. Confused, angry, nervous, scared. And, to your dismay, warm. God you’re so fucking warm. He’s heating you up from the inside out. You clench your jaw, still held in place by a firm bind.

“Get rid of those ugly clothes. I don’t care what you have to do. I can’t stand the sight or smell of them.”

You shut your eyes. When you open them, all you see is red. The other emotions are smothered in favor of that brand of heat. What happens next is a blur. You temporarily leave yourself.

“Fine. Have it your way, Homelander. You always do.”

Breaking free of his fluctuating hold, you start tearing at what you’re wearing, tossing everything- including your bra and underwear- to the ground. Your shirt winds up with the gum sticking to its loose fabric. You even take your shoes and socks off, not paying any heed to where your belongings go. Just that they’re gone.

You don’t process the glaring fact that you made yourself naked in front of your boss. In front of the most powerful man this country, and possibly world, has known. You don’t care that things have escalated this far. That they shouldn’t have. They shouldn’t have. But guess what? They did. And these are the consequences you both have to deal with.

“You wanna know what game I’m playing?” You turn around, forcing him backward. “It’s funny, I thought you’d be able to answer that for me, considering all the hoops I’ve had to jump through to not only save my ass, but make sure you had someone to talk to at the end of the day! Who on your team can you say goes above and beyond like that for you?!” He blinks at you now, eyes wide. Features fall to the floor where your clothes reside. You have his full and undivided attention.

An impressively dangerous thing to have.

“What more do you want from me, Homelander? I practically live with you without any of the benefits that usually includes! You’re really going to stand here and berate me like I haven’t given you fucking everything you’ve ever asked me for? Because I made one mistake? I gave up my entire world, which I know doesn’t mean shit to you. But it does to me.”

You fold your arms over your chest. Nothing covers it. You have to know before you lose all dignity. So you ask once more, hoping it won’t get lost in this bizarre mess.

“What do you want from me?”

Nothing. He can’t stop staring at you. You aren’t aware enough to be ashamed, but you are aware enough to be upset.

His infuriating silence compels you to bend down and gather what was a barrier between the two of you. You are no longer needed if he can’t do what he does best, which is spout off, leaking bottled words everywhere like a broken faucet. It’s a pretty simple question, you think.

That’s when the glass behind you shatters.

You flinch, pause what you’re doing and slowly stand. Cautious in whatever your next approach will be.

Surveying the aftermath, you’re relieved to find that you’re far enough away from the mirror so no injuries were inflicted.

When you finally lock eyes with the source, you see red. The atmosphere surrounding you heaves like the distended belly of a rotting corpse; hisses like an overflowing tea kettle; pierces you like lightning.

Homelander’s expression is rigid. His jaw quivers. Irises are a bright, shining scarlet. If you try anything rash, you might be next. But, having been around him for so long, you’re more inclined to believe he’s having trouble processing his own emotions. And that might have been one of the only ways to release them.

You drop the top and pants you managed to reclaim. Your brain hasn’t fully recovered from the constant devastating hit it’s taken, so you don’t want to put a name to what’s pushing you forward. You don’t stop until you’re directly in his line of vision.

Swallowing, you carefully extend your hand. The ruby color begins to crumble and give way to the vast ocean you might have drowned in one too many times. You lost track, blocking what you could out. Too real and intimate to accept for a realm that thrives off of inauthenticity and misfortune.

Homelander inhales harshly and you retreat, pupils hooking themselves to his. Searching for any sign you shouldn’t be right where you are.

Of course there are several; unfortunately, you are currently blind to them. Blind to everything but him.

That’s how it’s been for awhile, hasn’t it?

He has a habit of not granting you the luxury of time.

Quickly, he snatches your wrist and brings your palm flat against his cheek. He exhales, eyelids fluttering, nuzzling into you.

It’s so simple, yet it disarms you in ways you aren’t accustomed to.

Homelander basks in this chaste display of affection, and so do you, in awe of how enraptured he appears. Soaking you inside of his pores.

In turn, your cognizance reappears. You nearly topple over, realization infiltrating every part of you.

You’re not wearing a stitch.

A knock at the door startles you both. You glance over in that general direction and hear from the other side, “You’re on in fifteen, Homelander, sir!”

Gazing back up at him, you witness that same fire expand at a rapid rate. You use your other hand to bring him back down to reality, to ground him. It rests against his chest, delving into and cracking his ribs, flaying him open.

What strikes you is how vigorously his heart is beating. How you can feel it through his uniform.

This is how much you affect him. (Can you fathom that you’re only privy to a fraction?) Having evidence of the tiniest reciprocation drains you of any unwanted discomfort.

His fury subsides. You breathe out. He does, too.

“Go sit in your chair. I came here to do my job, after all.” The tenderness with which you speak seems to ease him further, his shoulders deflating with each word.

That aside, you’re playing with a lit match. You’re unsure who’s going to set who ablaze, but you’re willing to go down with this entire building to find out.

He does as he’s told, watching you the whole way like a mutilated mixture of a snarling cornered animal and a man fervently in love. He almost trips into his seat, not an ounce of grace in his gait.

Sacrificing his entire image just to get a glimpse of you.

Whipping his cape to the side, he sinks into the cushion. You get things ready as you typically do, your movements a bit jittery from the adrenaline sending haphazard jolts to your limbs. Despite this, you’re focused. You are more focused than you remember ever being.

You work efficiently, keeping in mind the limit that’s been put on your time.

Homelander bores holes through you. He doesn’t need lasers for that. You’re exposed and vulnerable and he pries what he fostered apart until it’s distinguishable by no one else but him.

You relearn his perfectly manufactured features. Different lights shape shadows you either haven’t seen before or feigned ignorance of. You commit to memory how he looks, smells, feels, the side of your hand grazing his cheek and hanging on.

He’s invigorating, your excitement building to a crescendo you can’t neglect. The heat in your core disperses, most of it congregating low in your belly and behind your expanding rib cage. His pupils drink you in, urgently and violently.

Your arousal is heady. He licks his lips. A hint of a whine caresses your ears and it makes you dizzy.

How could you have ever denied yourself?

You decide to take further control, testing the waters to a greater extent.

It���s your turn to watch him the whole way down. You straddle him, easing yourself atop his taut thighs.

After a few moments of humoring yourself, of pretending to concentrate on your work, dusting his nose with powder, you straighten. Eye contact has not been severed.

You motion toward his hands, balled into tense, repressed fists at his sides.

“Take off your gloves.”

Initially, it feels like maybe you said the wrong thing, or said it the wrong way. He doesn’t budge. You’re patient, however, so you wait like you’ve always done, the warmth from your cunt mingling with the hardness beneath you. Your mouth waters.

At last, Homelander nods and removes his gloves, tugging on the index of each. He places them on the armrests and transfixes himself to you once more.

“Do you want to touch me?” you ask, voice and body staying impossibly still in spite of your nerves.

Immediately, he shakes his head, “Yes,” the first time he’s spoken since your outburst, and without hesitation, reaches for your chest. You close your eyes, falling into his snooping lifts and tugs and squeezes, giving yourself permission to become possessed by the inhibited imaginations of how selfish, how rapacious his touches might be. How smooth his bare hands are, how ardent each digit is.

Leaning into you, he sucks one nipple into his mouth and palms the other, moaning and vibrating against your flesh. He digs his fingers into the pliant softness of your hip, steadying you with disciplined pressure. You squirm, attuned to every minuscule shift.

The lit match is tilted toward you now, swift and stunning. Your fingers release the brush you’ve been holding. It aligns with the slit of the cushion, forgotten and purposeless.

You wrap your digits around the hand on your curves and guide him toward your throbbing center. He doesn’t fight you. Doesn’t stop your movements. Doesn’t scold or challenge you. Instead, he curls his fingers in a way that makes you unabashedly moan, cupping your folds and pinning his thumb to your clit, adapting to your anatomy.

Your wants.

It seems like breaking away from you is a daunting task, but he does for a moment, brow furrowed, more engrossed and invested than you’ve ever witnessed.

“Fuck.” The curse sounds downright edible, your new favorite flavor. Your name tumbles from his lips like he’s been practicing, a sweet, rich icing on top. You gasp, his tongue adhering to you again, swirling around your peak before lightly biting it.

Rocking your hips back and forth, side-to-side, you grind hard into his palm. He strokes you like he’s studied what pace you prefer, how much friction you crave. You’re so wet, even you’re thrown off by it.

Once he’s finished with your chest, he’s back against the seat, unable to peel his gaze from you. Your full, swollen, glistening breasts.

His mouth hangs open, obscene, desperate whimpers slipping from it. Pupils are like whirlpools that drive you under. Drive you mad.

Homelander adeptly slips two, three digits inside your sopping cunt, unrelenting in his intentions to make up for lost time. The voracity of his actions propels you forward, balancing against his chest. He grasps and pulls at your other hip, groaning loudly in your ear, confirming his approval of how close you are to him.

It’s still not enough.

Pulling you even tighter to his blinding sun of a body, he encloses his free arm around you and desperately bucks his waist. “I want… I want… I want…” he chants. Your nails drag up his neck and along his scalp, overwhelmed by his warmth, his scent, him. Your lips ghost the sliver of skin above his collar, making him growl.

You anticipate and dread and yearn for what’s been building for so long. You clench and release, clench and release, clench and release, body chanting with him.

You’re intuitively thankful for the chair’s sturdiness; however, if it would have collapsed, you’re honestly not sure you would have noticed. Or cared.

You hear him come first. Feel the temperature rise temporarily. It’s so sudden and all-consuming that you naturally follow, his name an instinct you can’t help but divulge. You haven’t come down from the turbulent emotions rushing through you earlier, and that combination catapults you over the edge.

Your orgasm draws more deliberate, vehement grunts and sighs of satisfaction from him, as if your pleasure is inexplicably the same or worth more than his.

You can’t crumple into a boneless heap like you want to. You just can’t. You have to look at him. Look at his bliss; the glazed, barren-yet-so-full-of-you expression, of what these months of working in close quarters have done to him.

What you uncover is not what you were picturing. There’s a mixture of that haze with something almost apologetic below the teeming surface. Clouds of red to skies of blue. Destructive in and of themselves.

Sliding his fingers from your wetness, he wraps his lips around each one that was inside of you and spreads them apart. Your slick sticks to his glossy skin and stretches between digits, a generous amount. You whimper at the loss- the emptying, hollow feeling- and watch, mesmerized and delirious as he savors you.

Swallowing you whole, Homelander sweeps his knuckles across the apple of your cheek and presses his lips hard against yours. He wastes no time inhaling your gasps and moans, licking your mouth and the faint taste of mint, stealing it from you. You ingest what you can of him as well, exploring what was open to you longer than you realized.

He then seizes your wrists. It’s a rough gesture that evaporates into gentle circles along your pulse points. Still, you know you’re going to bruise where he turned the key and locked you into place: wherever he is.

A visible sheen coats his lips.

“I want you to tell me I’m good. Great. The best.”

His breathing is labored. So is yours.

He kisses the inside of the wrist smeared with perfume, your fluids, his saliva; ends with your hand and rests his cheek against the slope of it.

“I want you to be mine. All mine. Mine alone.”

You’re shaking. He moves forward and pets your hair, twirls it; grabs your nape and holds his thumb to the front of your throat. Securing you. Keeping you there.

“You have to stay. Be mine and stay.”

You thrum with an ache he forced upon you. He’ll claim you were starving and he was the only one who could satiate.

You nod. You were never going to leave to begin with.

Homelander made you his. And you thanked him for it.

#homelander #homelander x reader #the boys #antony starr #my writing #let me see you stripped down to the bone #oneshot #god it feels so good getting this out #i’ve been going through a painful writer’s block so 🥹 #thank you everyone who helped and anyone who reads #this is my first full-fledged homelander fic so i’m a bit nervous but! very excited 🖤 #love you all 🥰

[necronomeconomicism]

Ok gotta talk about it.

As a Jewish historian, I fucking hate Israel in ways most probably will never be able to comprehend. I'm going to try and explain it anyways. The central creation myth of Israel is that it is Jewish, and then consequently, that Israel is a part of Jewishness. Its easy to simply state this is false, but fully comprehending this and putting it into practice in thought and deed seems rare to me.

The evil at the heart of this violence predates the recent acceleration of genocide. Israel is a colony, and more than that, an antisemitic fraud itself. After WW2, when Israel was being founded, the Jews of Europe generally did not wave goodbye to their neighbors and head to the promised land. Many were expelled from their homes. Zionism itself, as an action, was a false choice at the time. A mere excuse to place an ally in the middle east, and an excuse to complete the expulsion and destruction of the European Jew. The Zionist Jew is more than complicit in this, they actively seek the destruction and assimilation of all other Jews.

Many fail to realize, and largely because of Israel, that Jews are not inherently white, Ashkenazi, European-descended people. Our faith and culture has an immense variety that is spread all across the globe. Jewishness, in population and volume of culture, exists more so outside of Israel than within it. Israel is for a very specific kind of Jew. The kind that lets Yiddish die, that attaches themselves to European things, that makes themselves and their practices as white as possible.

And they have the nerve, the fucking belligerent GALL, to frame themselves as the necessary saviors of our people. To the Zionist, questioning Israel is to question Jewishness itself. They bake adoration for the colonial machine into their very prayers, and push them on us even as children. To *not* oppress, to *not* kill, to *not* genocide, is to invite death. This is the core of fascistic thought, of course. "Kill them before they kill us." And they KNOW this too, they really do. The truth of that irony does not matter, because as is true for all fascists, the truth itself does not matter to them. They wanted this, they wanted this even before the British saw it in their best interest to give them the land. Any excuse to RETVRN, as the neo-nazis say of Rome, or the German Empire, or whatever the fuck stupid country they want to poorly animate the corpse of. Some select Zionists even *sided with the fucking Nazis* in agreement they should abandon Europe to colonize Palestine. (Haavara Agreement)

My people have proved time and time and time again you don't need a nation state to have an enduring culture. We have protected ourselves for thousands of years without the help of these spiteful, doom-saying maniacs. I was going to post something like this on Passover, but that would be hypocritical. The state of Israel doesn't actually have shit to do with Jewishness. שְׁמַע יִשְׂ��ָאֵל יְה Vi tsu derleb ikh im shoyn tsu bagrobn. [my best translation] Hear Israel (beginning of a prayer in Hebrew) I should outlive him long enough to bury him. (an old Yiddish curse)

Free Palestine. Donate what you can, they need it right now.

#free palestine #israel #jews for palestine #jews against israel #jewish history #antisemitism #jews against genocide

[kirqro]

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི’ Streamer!Ellie

warnings || none !!

lower case intended

{ I LOVE streamer els :’( }

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✮ streamer!ellie ' who's set up is either a really shitty web cam or top tier. Either way she def takes pride in it !

જ⁀➴

✮ streamer!ellie ' who watches shitty reality tv shows on stream and her reactions to the scenes def had a part of her blowing up.

જ⁀➴

✮ streamer!ellie ' was really insecure when she was just starting out streaming , like poor baby would tape up her camera up in fear it would randomly turn on ;((

જ⁀➴

✮ streamer!ellie ' who after hitting a milestone finally did a face reveal and was shaking in her boots.

She was just yapping to yap lwky.. because of how nervous she is

"So chat are we perhaps rocking with my outfit !"

જ⁀➴

✮ streamer!ellie ' who fucks around with her soundboard way to much ..

like baby be pushing buttons at the wrong time

જ⁀➴

✮ streamer!ellie ' who be fighting with her viewers sometimes..

'@elliesbigfatlefttoe - Ellie why can I SEE your armpit hair peaking out bae..'

SHE SNAPS BACK SOO QUICK

"BIG FAT WHAT? .. The fuck come bite it off for me then weirdo"

જ⁀➴

✮ streamer!ellie ' who plays a variety of games from Minecraft , Valorant , Roblox , Fortnite [ she gets called dog water by random 10 year olds.. (╥﹏╥) ] a bunch of random horror games and some rpg games.

She also does chill talking streams & random reaction videos.

LMAO SHE DEF READS FANFICS ABT HERSELFF

જ⁀➴

✮ streamer!ellie ' who EATS on fashion famous

જ⁀➴

✮ streamer!ellie ' gets herself into random ass twitter beef and just takes all the roast she gets by 10 year old arianators..

જ⁀➴

✮ streamer!ellie ' is really just a big loser

જ⁀➴

✮ streamer gf!ellie ' who after she blew up needed to introduce you to her stream , or at least make it known shes MARRIED.

ellie randomly drops the gf bomb on everyone on a random thursday stream outta no where..

୨♡୧

It was a pretty chill just chatting stream

when ellie started to give her viewers a ring tour. the pads of her fingers brushed against a certain ring on her left hand . a smirk could be seen adoring ellie's face while she slipped it off and tried to be a lil beauty guru showing the ring off.

up close in action shots as she called it..

"It's a promise ring with the wifey you know !" she said with pride forming inside her chest and a smile falling on her face.

Tik tok and wlw twitter sighed that day..

જ⁀➴

✮ streamer gf!ellie ' who soft launches you and your identity.

જ⁀➴

✮ streamer gf!ellie ' who loves when you sit in her streaming room with her ! although she tends to get a bit shy knowing your presence is there

જ⁀➴

✮ streamer gf!ellie ' who talks the most shit with you about petty drama in her community ..

"babe you'll never guess who got cancelled .."

before you could even open up your lips to ask her what happened she cut you off in an instant

"bro that dyke abigail , her ex came forward saying she gave her fucking chlamydia.. goodness dirty ass bitch"

જ⁀➴

✮ streamer gf!ellie ' who loves the way you love her. she can't ever seem to really wrap her mind around the fact that you've really stuck around with her for this long!

જ⁀➴

✮ streamer gf!ellie ' who is wife !!

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Hii bbys I acc had sm fun writing this ! soo again maybe part two ?

Again requests are wide open so pls send some !!

ILYSMM and TYSM for reading !! (∩˃o˂∩)♡

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daily click for Palestine !!

from the river to the sea Palestine WILL be free!! 🍉

#streamer!ellie #Ellie fluff #ellie x fem reader #ellie the last of us #ellie tlou #tlou #ellie williams #TLOU fluff #last of us fic #»-♡→ ‘ Cupid yaps #abby x reader #abby fluff #i love youu

[grimrester]

i lied! i did big fibs, i have more to say about the watcher situation after all. some assorted thoughts:

1. i'm a little surprised at just how big the rift is in the fandom post-apology. if i go into the tag, it literally alternates between "you guys are twisted sickos for bullying them into walking back the new platform" and "you guys are major chumps for accepting the apology and my trust is permanently damaged." this is a fandom that previously seemed pretty monolithic to me as an outsider, so i wonder if this will have long term implications for the sustainability of their fandom.

2. they said there'd be a "free subscription" to the platform for patreon supporters. makes sense, since their patreon tiers are mostly more expensive than the watchertv sub. this was presented as an indefinite sub dependent on continuing to pay their patreon, but patrons are receiving emails saying the sub is actually only for 3 free months. i'm like 90% sure this is the same kind of situation where they encouraged password sharing even though the platform doesn't enable it. they once again just seem to not fucking know what the vimeo ott platform they're using is capable of doing. they have to stop making statements like this until they get a better understanding of it because it's continuing to make them look bad.

3. there are multiple reports on reddit that at least ryan and sara (shane's spouse) are deleting comments on their instagram. look, i get it, some of the things people are saying are downright vile. the pointed targeting of steven and the borderline fanfic-writing quality of some of the theories about what went down interpersonally on the team during this decision is fucking weird at best and racist/invasive at worst. furthermore, i dont think making comments on personal instagrams is a good way to be heard. but on the other hand, controlling what people say on your platform right after you made a "we hear you" statement is really bad optics. obviously i think they have a right to delete anything that's outright bigoted, but it seems like they're deleting anything decidedly negative.

4. some of the comments getting deleted are about potential "fake" or "plant" patrons trying to skew the narrative positively on the watcher patreon. i frankly think this is unfounded conspiracy shit until i see substantial proof, but deleting these comments in particular without responding can cause some straight up streisand effect. this can really quickly start snowballing if they make it look like they don't want anyone talking about it. overall i just don't know if they understand just how much they're under the microscope right now. i didn't have to search very much to dig this stuff up - people are watching and documenting them. i think the variety article revealing they did initially intend to remove their backlog and them trying to pretend they didn't walk that back has caused a lot of people to hyper-inspect their every move. they're already in the youtube drama content cycle, and they risk someone making a blowout exposé if they aren't careful.

#watcher #long post

[psalmsofpsychosis]

not gonna lie homos and homies, there's something incredibly, incredibly depressing about Batmanverse and the concept of Batjokes in particular, and it's not the murder murder stab stab death plots.

It's the collective unmentioned canon agreement around these characters never being able to escape the confinements of their narrative.

they get pushed to the very edges of their predefined thresholds, they toe the lines of their stories, they poke it and probe it and sometimes even flirt with the possibility of crossing the bounds of their narratives, but they never break throught the structure. they never go over the line, always sorta of wiggling in place; batjokes in particular is the most enticing and intriguing stagnant 85+ years story i have ever seen.

There are unspoken rules around who Batman is, what he will and will not do, and those rules are rarely questioned, if ever. No matter what he does, he cannot be in love with a man, and he cannot ever love Joker in particular. He cannot experience mental and emotional peace. he cannot kill and he cannot show sincere emotional vulnurability, he cannot experience his love in an open and unashamed way. His narrative thresholds confine him to a socially sanctioned image that is meant to be familiar and tangible to the average straight dude, and it's quite frankly exhausting to witness. Whatever happens to Batman's story, he never arrives at physical emotional or mental peace and on a foundational level his tale never changes, not really. You can almost feel it when he constantly bumps into this unspoken narrative rules and stops in his tracks, each and every goddamn time, for 85+ years. It's like a keyed up nutcracker toy soldier bumping into a wall, stumble back two steps, bump into the walls, stumble back two steps, bumpt into the wall,

As someone who loves stories that love to question their own narrative points and break through them and do something different, staring at Batmanverse comics for too long at a time lowkey feels heartbreaking, nothing ever truly changes in this bitch.

#i guess what i'm saying is; there a tree in this garden and every season it sheds its leaves and the leaves change color etc etc etc #and when i talk about getting bored of tales told of this tree peeps are like ''but look at all the colors in the leaves! it even sheds the #what more variety would you want?!'' #and i'm like. you know there's more to a tree than its fucking leaves right. RIGHT. #you know a tree changed in its entire trunk and branches and root reach and the way it communicates with other trees RIGHT #like. a tree naturally undergoes so many subtly substantial changes during the seasons #and i'm tired of being given colorful leaves and being told that i should be satisfied with the supposed artstyle and plot trinket variety #in Batman stories. #this shit is substantially stagnant *YEET* #jokes aside though; this is why i can only consume a little bit of Batman media at a time before i get bored out of my mind. #every other story is the same thing. #Batman #Batman meta #Batjokes #Batjokes meta

[to-shards-you-say]

does anyone actually get into cosmere without spoilers nowadays? or were all of us peons goaded into reading by being asked "wanna find out what happens to the universe when sixteen people kill god and each take a piece for themselves"?

#because quite frankly who can be fucked otherwise? #i'm literally only forcing myself to read Everything because i was told tlm is The One With Nukes #and i've been told that before i read tlm i should really read Everything #hell i only willed myself to read past the final empire because i was told that kelsier comes back wrong #sometimes spoilers of the 'jesse what the fuck are you talking about' variety are just a necessary catalyst

[seilon]

every newer gen kpoppy who calls it revolutionary every time a big name bg member wears something vaguely skirt-like should be required to watch lee sungjong of infinite putting his whole pussy into performing coming of age ceremony by park jiyoon wearing the song's classic form-fitting black side-slitted dress with zero gimmicks way back in 2012

#its Required Material re: historical kpop genderfuckery #no but im 100% for real. this was in the middle of the era where bg members doing gg songs in drag and whatnot was a really #common gag at concerts and in variety shows and whatnot- especially using bg members who were/are considered the most effeminate #basically it was a big Joke and never taken seriously. alot of the time the dances would be exaggerated and whatnot and yeah they #werent like. REAL covers. werent usually respectful of the original gg/female idol's work and all that. haha man in dress type humor #i know if you're old enough to be following me and into kpop you probably know this already and im talking into space but whatever #anyway. sungjong said fuck that and fucking killed it with a genuine live cover (dance And vocals) of coming of age ceremony #which- as you can imagine based on the title- isnt just an iconic female idol song but one that's blatantly about female sexuality #and whatnot. wore the dress that's in the original mv (or something very similar) and didnt play it up with a wig or anything like that #(like what's usually the case when male idols cover gg songs to make it more clear that its a Costume and they are Crossdressing rather tha #just. being a guy and wearing a dress.) #did not shy away from the sexiness of the dance AT ALL to the point of riding the floor at one point more or less which. god fucking damn #but anyway. it's totally true to the original and is unapologetically sexy in an inherently orientation-fucking gender-fucking way and GOD #wish it got more attention than it did because THAT is revolutionary. thats the first performance i ever saw where a male idol did a #female idol song in the original female idol outfit live without any gimmick or even the implication that it COUNTS as drag. its SUCH a #big deal imo. and it helps that its really fucking hot but thats neither here nor there. anyway. i know its been years but i still have so #many feelings and opinions about sungjong's coming of age ceremony performance ghfgjhdgfdh WATCH IT #sungjong #infinite #kibumblabs

[lucaplushie]

genuinely makes me so mad that in the graphic novels henry and william are just recolors of each other

#was talking about on vc ... #theyre so fucking BORING #like wheres the spice.. the variety even #you know what they say variety is the spice of life!!! #shits crazy theyre soooo white twinkified #fills me with rage #luca speaks

[bitsbug]

i would love to watch over the garden wall with you.i would keep pausing to make thematic ocmparisons to rain world though (the real chess experience)

fuck yes... honestly that is the ideal experience though, I love to compare and contrast medias. OTGW & RW crossover when

#was just earlier today thinking about how fucking. WD Gaster of undertale fame is similar to rainworld echoes #both fall into something while deep underground and end up in an eternal limbo state. wiped from the world yet undeniably present #(well. ancients didn't always go to the depths to ascend but you know what I mean) #yeah I bet over the garden wall has So Many parallels of that variety #ask #obligatory talk tag

[ezraphobicsoup]

sometimes i think i’m a fully proper binary guy. and then i think about gender for a minute too long and

#no but i am a guy i’m not non binary #but equally what makes me a man? what is masculinity?? how can i identify with something i don’t understand?? but i am a man! but why?? what #does that mean???? what makes anyone anything and does it matter??? no of course not! all that matters is that people can comfortably view #themselves and that’s the point of gender; to be comfortable #and gender *roles* are just bullshit and not real. but if not for gender roles where does gender come from?? again does it matter???? #i mean really. we’re all just people and it’s about being happy. these boxes exist for a variety of reasons but if there’s happiness in the #box then you take the fucking box #you can have as many boxes as you like. or none! you just do what makes you happy. .. but then what makes me happy #cause as i say. i am a man completely. i wouldn’t be happy if someone referred to me as not a man. but am i a Man? do i want to be? #if masculinity is built upon stereotypes and i can never truly meet those stereotypes then what makes me a man? it’s the feeling of it? #the euphoria in being someone’s son. someone’s brother. someone’s boyfriend. you know? maybe that’s all it needs to be #i don’t have to understand masculinity to be a man. maybe no one actually understands masculinity or feminity for that matter because theyre #not tangible things. that’s what it boils down to it’s fucking intangibility and culture isn’t it #and i mean i think in a sense that’s beautiful? gender boxes can suck because of what we say are in them but really inherently? the fact #that humans have such an array of ways to make ourselves feel more comfortable in how we talk about ourselves? that’s incredible #i think that’s all i have to say for now #once again this is macbeths fault fuck shakespeare why does this always happen #ezra’s real life rambles #tldr i am a binary man but in a silly way i think. ever so slightly to the left. but i like being seen just as a guy and that’s easy enough #sorry to uh broadcast this on tumblr dot com if you read all of this i hope this was interesting

[graciousdragon]

"And should I be shocked now, by the last thing you said?

Before I pull this trigger, your eyes vacant and stained

And in saying you loved me made things harder, at best..."

in other words: fuck it we ball, i drew my AU version of Showtime Dawko with a palette colorpicked from the album cover of My Chemical Romance's "I Brought You My Bullets, You Brought Me Your Love" because the brainrot is real 👍

am i super proud of this? eh. but i also haven't drawn digitally in literal months (thanks college) and if i'm gonna get back to it then i gotta start somewhere and i never post art anywhere so uh. i might as well now!

i still love Glitching Fates so much don't worry it is still on my mind 24/7 but unfortunately i almost never have time to dedicate to talking about it and also i am. Very Bad at putting my thoughts into words lmao

this is actually kinda lore tho. btw. lol. :]

#rys.txt #rys draws #the song lyrics at the top are from early sunsets over monroeville by. you guessed it. my chemical romance #i will say. glitching fates showtime is very early sunsets coded. especially with the scene in the story this is meant to be from #fun fact: when i first started making glitching fates i promised myself that showtime's story wouldn't be too sad #he's just a really sweet guy and i thought it would be funny contrast to the rest of the characters who are always going through The Horror #and while it certainly could be sadder. let's just say both early sunsets and gorillaz's el mañana are in his playlist now. so. #i think at some point i realized it's near impossible to have a non-traumatized character in a fnaf story lol. its like a constant #this fucking story devastates me honestly i really need to talk about it more. just know that i remain cooking behind the scenes always 👍 #i decided to give him the new hairstyle because i was tired of drawing everyone with the same side part #im already suspending a ton of disbelief with like 5 different characters who all look and sound really similar but it was just too much lo #i had to have some variety #ignore the fuckass background i had no clue what the fuck to do and kind of tried to emulate the album cover and failed lol. oh well #dawko #showtime dawko #glitching fates #glitching fates au

[ukulelegodparent]

If you know me irl, please move along there is nothing to see here, this post does not exist.

#For real. shush. I don't want you to see this. This information is of no interest to you #go away there's nothing here. shush shush. be on your merry way #so hypothetically. #if you and your flatmate had gotten along better and better over the months they've lived in your flat #and spent more and more time together and had talked constantly and eventually spent almost every night watching a show together #and you caught feelings and confessed them to her and you spent all of one night and one morning in blissful happiness and then they said #that they couldn't do this for a variety of reasons all of which where perfectly fair #so after a few days of back and forth you decide to be just friends and things continue as normal #and then it's christmas and you don't see each other but it's fine I mean it's all gonna be normal again after (you cry every night) #and then you come back and they're kneedeep in depression so it's not back to normal but it's fine #and like you still spend time together etc and then you get very depressed and they help you and talk to you #and then they feel bad again and you start to be bad too but you were still talking #but suddenly like every time you talk they are just either mean or completely disinterested in anything you have to say #but for some reason they are perfectly able to have normal conversations with everyone else in the whole fucking world #and you try to talk to them about it but it doesn't change anything and honestly you've given up talking to them #because every time you talk to them it feels like they don't want you to be there having this conversation with you #and when you're alone you manage to convince yourself that it's just the social anxiety talking but then you go into the kitchen to eat #and they are there making food and you ask them what they're doing tonight and it's like your last straw #and their answers are like not even mean just super short and for two weeks you've just been hoping that maybe they'd just once #come back from uni and fucking ask you how your day was #and like you ate in the kitchen hoping maybe just maybe they'd start just fucking talk to you. just ask you anything. #and you almost cried like 3 times and then you went to your room to cry for real #and now you're considering disinviting them from your birthday party bc honestly being around them having a good time with #seemingly anyone but you is making you depressed as fuck and your anxiety go crazy #theoreticallly. if that were the case. what would you do? #(yes I know the adult thing would be to talk to them) #like they're probably just busy and stressed bc of exams but then why can they have a good time with every other person in the world #this has been the most important person in your life and the person to whom you talk to about absolutely everything for months now btw

[bloominstorm]

Like… is Takemichi gonna die..

#let me just say I’m disappointed in Mikey’s backstory/POV #we’ve been waiting for fucking ever to finally hear his thoughts and see what makes him tick and we got subpar shit tht didn’t explain #everything like WHY DOES HE HAVE THESE DARK IMPULSES IT WASNT BC OF HIS PARENTS DEATH OR SHINICHIRO #HES BEEN LIKE THIS EVEN BEFORE HIS MOTHER DIED AND HE DIDNT REMEMBER HIS FATHER BESIDES ONE MEMORY #then we finally get to see Mikey’s unfiltered and raw thoughts on shit tht happened and all the important shit gets ignored and the shit #shown is rushed and doesn’t really reveal shit??? like why didn’t we get more on his true feelings about takemichi #i for one wanted to know if his friendship/affection was genuine considering we’ve seen how he really is and how he has no issues trying to #kill him.. like did he only fuck with Takemichi because of his similarities with shinichiro it’s like wakui started on it then said fuck it #back to Takemichis POV it’s so annoying and not rewarding at all for readers who’ve been waiting on this #Mikey talked about Kisaki more than Takemichi Thts just ridiculous #also can we PLEASE get his feelings on Draken’s death like why tf are we still waiting for tht #but Mikey is fr evil af because he’s completely aware of what he’s doing and he’s still trying to kill his old friends #dude didn’t you leave to protect them I understand they came to you but beating them down is enough why are you actually trying to kill #takemichi like he’s genuinely trying to beat him to death and he’s doing this consciously #i get he’s far gone but there’s no way to come back from this #also Takemichi is literally so close to death wtf I wasn’t wakui to give Takemichi anything really since it’s clear he hates him and is up #Mikey’s ass but my God why have him just charge in endlessly to just get his ass beat are we gonna see some variety #like my dudes vision and hearing are literally impaired now because of Mikey’s deranged ass when is enough gonna be enough 😭 #but now with the vision he got now I’m hoping this will give him the upperhand in the fight #because I’m actually tired of seeing him get his ass beat it’s enough now #he’s been getting dogged the whole series can he FINALLY have his moment fr #like an actual moment where he’s not the punching bag??? he had it against Kisaki but tht was bittersweet since he wasn’t the one to #actually kill his annoying ass #so at this point I’m over Mikey and want him taken out so like..let’s get on tht #tokyo revengers spoilers #Tokyo revengers 266

[saltyfilmmajor]

Ethan is close to panic, as the man puts his pistol back into his coat and loosens his grip on Ethan’s jacket collar. He couldn’t lose his only link to The Syndicate again. Ethan grabs the lapels of his overcoat pulling the taller man in close. The other man’s eyebrows furrow together in confusion.

“What are you-” the other man sputters out until Ethan plants a rather forceful kiss on him. He forces his eyes shut. It has to look real, or at least real enough.

Sometimes you gotta make fanart of your own fics, and that’s ok.

#Glass Box Boyfriends #Lunt #Lane x Ethan #Solomon Lane #Ethan Hunt #I've had a rough evening so excuse the self indulgence #real talk i'm so so so happy to be drawing again and genuinely enjoying it #my art #I've been thinking about drawing this scene for a while actually i'm glad i did it #Enemies to Fuck buddies really is what this is not even lovers #Anyway I'm getting more comfortable with my art which is a weird thing to say when you have a literal degree in visual art/fine art #I don't know why I guess it's the variety for me drawing these two rather consistently #when i usually draw one or two ocs in the same pose #this is all to say i'm starting to rediscover my first love: drawing #:')

[jvzebel-x]

🦋

#so ive been in contact w a clinic for a specific treatment plan&ive been getting paperwork together for this shit for like 3wks+ #&i just got a call about it-- a call ive been waiting for since last week-- only for them to tell me that #ill probably need to be hospitalized for the full extent of the treatment. lmao. #as if this in&of itself was not enough to send me full-on spiraling they let know that this will be totally out of pocket #(which i guess im more or less used to hearing at this point in my life lmao) #&also that i POPPED FOR AMPHETAMINES? #so i immediately start fucking freaking out&the person im talking to is trying to calm me down like #'its okay! youre not in trouble!' #&honest to god if i had been in person i wouldve smacked someone lmao. #i dont give a fuck what you fucking ppl think of me. ive been fighting for solid communication for this entire process #there isnt any reason i should feel inclined to respect any of you bitches enough to give a fuck about your opinion. #even if i didnt have my personal history or occupational hazard list IT WOULD BE CONCERNING TO FIND OUT I HAVE RANDOM DRUGS #IN MY SYSTEM THAT I WAS UNAWARE OF. &frankly that SHOULD be fucking obvious if i am panicking at all. #seeing as a did several different drug tests i dont see how any of it would come as a fucking surprise. #... then she realized that my blood test was negative&my piss test was 'presumptively positive' #&was like that bc of one of my other medications. #im not. THRILLED. that this was overlooked for a large variety of reasons lmao #but the fact that the med evals only last two weeks tops the list bc if i need to retest bc of this shit-- something that wont even #give them a different test result as i am still taking the same medication fucking daily as i have been for over a year now-- #i will need to do EVERYTHING again. for no reason. DEFINITELY for no reason caused by me. #all so they can tell me that they lied to me initially&they wont treat me unless i let them hospitalize me lmao. #im going to go fucking rabid. i Do Not want to be hospitalized. lmao.