The humble trans flag coloured Utena:

me in the bathroom stalls at work hitting my vape while i think about armand tormenting me sexually

“armand,” you whined, riding him on the couch — your dress was bunched up, your underwear completely forgotten. all you could think of was the press of him beneath you, the way his hands gripped your hips, guiding you, holding you perfectly against him.

“so perfect, my beloved,” he murmured, voice low and smooth. you gasped as he held you down harder, causing you to feel him deeper. you continued to move, leaning down to kiss him as you did so.

each movement you made sent shockwaves through the both of you. with each roll of your hips, he pressed up into you, letting you feel every inch, every pulse, every heat-drenched curve of him. His hands gripped your waist tighter, thumbs brushing over the most sensitive parts of your skin, keeping you perfectly in place while letting you take the rhythm at your own pace.

“needed to feel you all day,” he whispered, lips brushing your jaw and down your neck, teeth grazing lightly — like he couldn’t decide whether to kiss you or bite. “don’t stop. don’t you dare stop.”

armand looked at you with reverence — his eyes full of adoration. you were a masterpiece to him. it only made him hungrier for you. and armand was never gentle when he was starving.

your fingers slid into his hair and you kept moving, your dress sliding higher with each roll of your hips. you could feel how badly he wanted you — the tension in his body, the way he held you closer every time you tried to slow down.

“no,” he breathed, almost a growl — quiet, but absolutely firm. he pulled you down onto him harder, making you gasp, making you feel all of him. your breath stuttered. your thighs trembled.

“that’s it,” he whispered, eyes on your face, watching every reaction. “ride me. let me see you fall apart.” his hand slid down the front of your thigh and between your legs, fingers brushing exactly where you were already throbbing.

“you’re dripping for me,” he murmured, thumb circling lazily, wickedly. “look at you.” the sound you let out was helpless — something broken and wanting. and he smiled. that soft, devastating, “i have you” smile.

“come for me, beloved,” he said — voice calm, steady, sure — like it was already happening. like he owned the moment your body collapsed around him.

“show me how much you missed me.”

Dorohedoro

A collection of every time Homelander says the big no-no "fuck" word, from seasons 1-4 in "The Boys".

This was a suggestion from @deliciouskeys a few months ago, out of curiosity to see how many times he says "fuck" throughout the show. He says it 32 times in season 1, 39 times in season 2, 52 times in season 3, and 38 times in season 4. For a graaaaaaaaaand total of 161 times. But I feel those are rookie numbers if we're comparing him to the grandmaster Billy Butcher, lol.

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HOMELANDER COMPILATION LIST UNDER THE CUT:

Practicing the big guy