#`` I openly admit it okay

[archersartcorner]

A year was not so long after all. He prepared her for the day when he would leave. But when the moment came, he found himself less prepared than she. For the first time in his life, Spock thought about returning from a mission, wondered whether or not he would survive. She had no one else, and that was a disturbing thought.

Back on board the Enterprise, he opened his case to unpack his few belongings and found things not quite as he’d left them. Tucked in at the bottom under all the folded clothes, Saavik had hidden away her knife. Spock stood in the privacy of his cabin turning it in his hand, remembering every word of their good-bye.

Some small doodles based on the above passages :)

[bunnyb34r]

Who would have thought that eating cherrios 2x daily when I'm allergic to oats, and several pastries when I'm allergic to wheat, would come back to bite me in the ass? Surely not I! 🙃

[thundergrace]

I really don't get the obsession with Taylor Swift's sexuality. If that girl is queer, would she hide it? Isn't she supposed to be a great lgbtq+ ally? Like that's a thing, right? So clearly, she'd have no qualms about living openly queer if she were queer.

Or maybe all the 'wink wink nudge nudge' stuff all over my social media all the time IS her living openly queer and maybe she thinks everyone's weird for acting like it isn't lol idk. Don't know anything real about her myself.

Whatever the case, I wish queer people would stop obsessing over celebrities' sexuality while also saying we want queerness to be normalized. Kinda hard to normalize it while placing it under scrutiny as if it isn't ordinary and something worth investigating.

[mercutiodidntdieforthis]

The absolute worst thing in the world is when the extremely minor character(s) you're obsessed with finally DO get an episode about them, but it's a HORRIBLE episode. Like........ Yes, I will keep rewatching this anyways. But I'll be angry the whole time. How did you not know to hire me, a random fan who has never even publicly expressed my appreciation of these characters, and has no professional writing experience, to write it? I can do way better I would have done them justice. No I'm not saying who this is about, because it's so embarrassing I would die on the spot

[transingthoseformers]

Nobody can stop me from comparing mtmte Whirl to Ultrakill V1

[omegawolverine]

nick and grunk saying theyre fine with dsmp fans and dont like people sending death threats to fans of theirs for liking dsmp is great but now im just watching people who were saying shit like "if you like dsmp kys" pretending they didnt say shit like that months ago...okay

[taylorftparamore]

i feel insane every time people act like taylor hate can never be based in misogyny. like, because they hate taylor for reasons unrelated to misogyny (ie, her private jet and her new billionaire status, both of which are valid critiques of her class status as a wealthy white american woman and the benefits she reaps from classism and us imperialism but like... imo that means you shouldn't listen to ANY white rich american artists and i guarantee you that some of your indie faves are actually rich), there can be no misogynistic critiques of taylor

like i was deadass reading right wing folks who insist taylor swift is a secret trans woman out to ruin our kids with lgbt agenda and like. that is a transmisgynstic reason for hating taylor. taylor might not be an actual trans woman, but she is literally being hated for a transmisogynstic reason. similarly, saying she's simply TOO MEAN to her ex boyfriends for.... writing about her feelings in a diaristic songwriting format? calling her calculated and manipulative for... writing songs about her personal life? those are all misogynistic reasons to hate her!

like yes. there are reasons to hate her that are unrelated to misogyny. but just because some taylor hate isn't misgynstic, doesn't mean no hate about taylor is just pure misogyny. and it's weird to call it white feminism to say the slut shaming and backlash taylor faced early in her career before she was ever a billionaire private jet owner was not just pure sexism. like for god's sake, people accused her of NOT WRITING HER OWN SONGS because they believed some teenage girl couldn't POSSIBLY write as good as she did.

and it's also weird to pretend taylor has NEVER faced misogyny when going up against record label companies. sony deadass shut her down when she said she wanted to record her debut album when she was 13 and force her to give up her songs to them to give to other artists. scott brocheta specifically talked about 14 year old taylor swift as being "pretty" like that was her only accomplishment. she was literally shut out of the process of buying her own master's and then told why won't she just fuckin shut up and take the abuse?? like... it is so WEIRD that people pretend that sexism stops existing when high profile women face it.

and to taylor haters: this isn't to say you have to like her. but i am BEGGING y'all to stop pretending that taylor hate can never, ever be misogynistic.

[incorrectskyrimquotes]

what you call a "writing oversight" I call "neat characterization"

[teacup-captor]

Me: Now I do think it's a little weird that J.K. Rowling admitted to giving Harry physical traits she finds attractive, like even to the point of marrying a guy that looks like him

All of her transphobic fans getting ready to call me dumb and overdramatic as if I just attacked her: Now listen here, pal

[falseapostle]

what is your throne made of ?

glass

the leader who sits on a throne of glass values honesty and integrity. they rule their kingdom democratically and will uphold justice at any cost. their intelligence and perception is unrivalled in any of the surrounding lands. they will always be transparent with their views and be true to their people and what they stand for. however, it is unwise to lie to a ruler of glass - they can see right through any deception and believe dishonesty to be the most severe of crimes.

[atlasbeetles]

had an absolute Moment earlier over some bullshit im going to vent Vaguely about it so i feel normal :

because why are you gonna act pressed abt what time of day i ttalk to you if youre going to be soooo upset no matter what. if you didnt want me reaching out why did you not block me EVERYWHERE and not just fucking social media. and then have the gall to be like "i dont wanna burden anyone the way he burdened me" achievement unlocked your a moron dipshit. "oh this ruined my whole morning" it woudltn have mattered. you're a pussy and no better than me because you wanted to pretend to give me a chance to reconcile. god almighty

[timmydraker]

Tim calls a family meeting and everyone is assuming he’s got a big case he needs help with, which is alarming for someone who refuses to admit that some cases are beyond him.

So, everyone shows up at the cave only to be ordered upstairs by Alfred. For those who only showed up to make fun of Tim for needing help, this is confusing because case work ain’t allowed upstairs.

All do them figure out quickly that this means it’s not to do with Gotham or Ref Robin, but the man behind the mask.

Bruce and Dick were there first and because Damian is always with one of them, so is he.

Steph picks up Barbara and Cass, with Duke already at home and Jason showing up at the same time as Kate and Lucius.

When they all get into the lounge room used for when people are over, just two doors down from the actual family room, they all find themselves chatting casually as they stave off their own worries or confusion. Some of them try find out if anyone knows what’s going on, but when Alfred and Barbara reveal they have no idea, they give up and make a few guesses but no more.

When Tim finally comes in after Alfred received him, he looks tired.

It’s not usual for Tim to get distracted with work and not sleep for a while, but he will conk out for hours when he decides to and wake up alright.

The bags under his eyes, the redness within them, and the way he looks close to tucking himself into a ball…

Bruce is immediately leaning forward, opening his mouth to make sure his son is okay but Tim just raised a hand to silence him. “Just… just let me speak, okay? I need to do it now or I’m not going to be able to.”

Everyone gives him a nod or look of understanding, making him twitch a smile before inhaling deeply and psyching himself up.

“I have cancer.”

…

Nobody speaks as Tim exhales shakily.

Everyone is staring wide eyed at the young man before them, who just reached the legal drinking age, and trying to asses his physical form for an understanding of what he just said. They’re all trying to gain X-ray vision to see exactly what is hurting him all while trying to convince themselves they heard him wrong.

Tim closes his eyes and speaks automatically, leaning into facts like he always does when he’s freaking out, “I noticed I was getting by more tired and fatigued around last year. My doctor said I have a low white cell count but he wasn’t alarmed as it was still in the normal range. But a few months ago I started to note that bruises were taking far too long to heal and I was getting a lot of pain around my joints and bones.”

He inhaled again, shakier than before at the same time that Alfred sits himself down with a hand over his mouth.

“It’s stage 2 and because of my lack of a spleen it’s going to be a harder process for treatment but fortunately I own a medical company so there’s that at least.” He makes a sort of joking smile that falters immediately, falling into a pulled back frown that comes with someone whose about to sob as he adds, “But it’s also aggressive so I-I don’t know how-how to-fuck-“

Dick and Cass are immediately moving off the couches they are on and catch him as he finally crumbles into himself.

Bruce is next to follow, the stoic man openly crying for the first time in years.

Jason and Damian are in shock, both frozen in place as dread takes over their minds.

Steph is looking out the window, as if staring at some kind of his or deity and demanding an expiration as to why they have to hurt her loved ones so badly. She’s crying, but it’s silent which is all the more harrowing.

Lucius places a hand on Alfred’s shoulder to comfort the elder even as he himself itches to go comfort the young boy who helped him run the company when he was at his worst.

Kate leaves the room to go call Bette, needing her mentor because this is just something she can’t handle.

Duke is sobbing into his hands as he leans into Barbara’s lap. Barbara who is clinging to him like a lifeline as she feels her world shift once again, feeling so angry and confused at how one of them could be threatened like this. Of all the ways they could go out, was it really going to be cancer?

It was a harrowing experience for all of them to remember that they were human in more than just their flesh being able to bleed and be wounded, but for it to grow sick. For it to age and attack itself.

They were human at the end of the day and Tim…

In Metropolis, Clark Kent rushed into the bathroom at his work to throw up as he heard a conversation miles away.

[thecommonmold]

How are proshippers even allowed to be on here?? You guys disgust me,please block me if you are one of them

[blaire-apricity]

Hello, if it's ok with you we could have a reaction of the LaDS boys reacting to hearing the reader's sneeze for the first time and she sneezes like a kitten? (my body is ready for Sylus's part

Kitten Sneeze

ʟᴀᴅs ʙᴏʏs x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᯓ❅ ┆ 𝘴𝘺𝘯𝘰𝘱𝘴𝘪𝘴 ┆ : 𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘓𝘈𝘋𝘚 𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘻𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘬𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯?

ᯓ❅ ┆ 𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘴 ┆ : 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘵, 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧, 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵 & 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘖𝘖𝘊

─────────────── ˗ˏˋ ❅｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽ ˎˊ˗ ────────────────

𝐗𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐫

Upon sneezing, you sounded remarkably like the cat that Xavier feeds outside the apartment. He paused mid-action, his expression inscrutable as he observed you wiping your nose with a handkerchief, curiosity flickering in his eyes.

“What…?” You asked, blinking at him in confusion.

“I thought I heard an actual kitten,” he replied, a hint of amusement in his voice. Xavier had a soft spot for kittens, often stopping to pet strays whenever he encountered them. He wouldn't even pull back if a kitten decided to nibble his finger.

“I didn’t know you were capable of mimicking a kitten,” he chuckled softly, the corners of his lips curving into a rare, gentle smile. His eyes softened, exuding a warmth that made your heart flutter. “It was very cute.”

𝐙𝐚𝐲𝐧𝐞

“Are you alright?” Zayne's voice carried a tinge of concern as he glanced at you, his brow furrowing slightly. Before you could respond, you sneezed again, the high-pitched sound eerily similar to a kitten's meow. As a dedicated doctor, his initial worry was whether this was a respiratory problem, but the consistency of your sneezes reassured him it was just a quirky trait of yours.

“Drink water,” he murmured, gently rubbing your back in slow, soothing circles. With his other hand, he held a glass of water to your lips, which you gratefully sipped. “I’m worried that you might be catching a cold or an allergy.”

“No, I’m okay,” you reassured him, sniffing a bit.

“Mm.” Zayne subtly nodded at your words; his concern not entirely dispelled. Though he wouldn’t openly admit it, he found your sneezing adorable, its kitten-like quality endearing to someone who secretly had a soft spot for such creatures, like him.

𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐥

“A-Achoo..!” Your sneeze, sounding like a tiny cat’s meow, made Rafayel flinch visibly. He wasn't fond of cats, a fact you were well aware of, but his reaction still caught you off guard.

He stared at you with wide eyes and a furrowed brow, looking genuinely bewildered. “Was that you?”

You wiped your nose, sniffling as you met his incredulous gaze. “Yeah, why?”

“…” His frown deepened as he slowly backed away, his expression a mix of concern and annoyance. “This is why you aren’t supposed to come near those fur-monsters! They’re already affecting you!”

“…” You rolled your eyes at his dramatic antics, only to notice him dialing something on his phone. Realization dawned as you saw he was calling an ambulance.

“Rafayel-!”

𝐒𝐲𝐥𝐮𝐬

Hearing your adorable kitten-like sneeze, the first thing Sylus did was chuckle, his deep and raspy voice resonating throughout the room. He had been engrossed in a book just before you sneezed, but the unexpected sound captured his full attention.

“What was that?”

“What was what…? I sneezed…”

“Seems like I’ve been right all along,” he mused, his crimson eyes locking onto you with an amused glint. You frowned slightly, unsure of his meaning.

“You really are my kitten,” he declared, his voice laced with a possessive endearment that made your cheeks burn. His straightforward claim left you blushing profusely, his intense gaze making your heart race as he reaffirmed your place in his life.

·❆　　　❆　❅　　　　•　　　　.　　　　　❆❆• 　·　.　　　❅

𝐴𝑢𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑟'𝑠 𝑁𝑜𝑡𝑒: 𝐼'𝑣𝑒 𝑔𝑜𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑛 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑦 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑟𝑒𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑠 𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑦, 𝐼'𝑙𝑙 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑘 𝑜𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑚 𝑜𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝐼'𝑣𝑒 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑖𝑠ℎ𝑒𝑑 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑝𝑎𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑘 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝐼 𝑛𝑒𝑒𝑑𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑑𝑜. 𝐴𝑛𝑑 ℎ𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑜 𝑓𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑜𝑤 𝑆𝑦𝑙𝑢𝑠 𝑚𝑎𝑖𝑛 (𝐼'𝑚 𝑠𝑜𝑟𝑟𝑦 𝑋𝑎𝑣𝑖𝑒𝑟) 𝐻𝐴𝐻𝐴. 𝐼 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑎 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑠𝑢𝑔𝑔𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑡𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑆𝑦𝑙𝑢𝑠 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑏𝑢𝑡- 𝐿𝑒𝑡'𝑠 𝑠𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑖𝑡 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒 𝐻𝐴𝐻𝐴𝐻𝐴.

[cryptfile]

✶ nuclear seasons, [ soldier boy x reader ]

summary — he was friend’s with your mom. friend is a understatement cause when he appears in the middle of the night looking for revenge in your little apartment in the suburbs, you know he’s far from being nice.

warnings — +18 minors dni, smut, dead dove do not eat, we have a last name (also a mother!), kind of porn without plot? but not really cause it HAS one okay, we call it 50/50, fem!reader using she/her pronouns, p in v, masturbation ( m! receiving but blink and you miss it), dirty talk, age gap, choking, degradation, spitting (i'm sorry), fingering, mentions of injury, cancer (not you tho), tons of tension.

side notes — i’m never experiencing the post ovulation clarity lmao, that being said english is not my first language so sorry for any mistakes, also i’m a whore for jensen ackles, and i stand for what i like proudly. // 5k+

Nightshade is a hero.

You're proud of your mother since you were pretty young. The hero that fought against Vought to death during the time Payback was active, America’s Troublemaker that you only knew as Stella Nightshade, a blonde woman that talked with the death during her golden years.

Maybe it’s your mother the one that pushed you to fight crime, to pursue the bad guys and look out for the victims that can’t stand for themselves, so even when you don’t inherit much from Stella’s gifts, you joined the CIA as soon as you can so you can do something that matters.

You’re the best in your class, work your ass off to be taken serious, to be more than the look of disappointment you receive when people ask, once again, if you have any powers like your mother and you have to admit — In pure shame, that you didn’t born as a superhero but a baby who cried loudly when is too hungry.

But as years pass you make a name for yourself, one that even if differs from Stella’s job has the same noble reasons behind. You also realize you were too naive growing up, believing in heroes that don’t deserve to be called that way.

The country has made a mistake on making superhumans so openly, and it’s clear that got out of control now, backfiring as they got so much power it’s almost impossible to take accountant of any of them.

You’ve worked along Grace Mallory from the shadows, and even when Stella would not be so proud of you for helping get his kind out of the streets, the justice is enough to feed you and keep you warm on a cold night.

You like it that way. You know Grace has a team for it, a legal army of supe-haters as you called them, yet, you prefer to stay in the dark, not let your personal life get involved cause one slip and you can lose it all— Even when you don’t have nothing at all. You like to have an outside life from work, it’s the sane thing to have, so when the CIA Deputy Director asks you about joining the infamous Boys, you politely decline assuring the woman you’ve been more helpful from the outside.

What would Stella Nightshade would say? Now that you’ve grown older and you don’t look at her the same way you used to when you encounter her files and read about your mother. You know she has done wrong, yet with the years, you don't imagine Soldier Boy himself was going to seek for revenge first thing he does when he wakes up, his plan including your mother even when she was long time dead before he even appeared in the picture.

That night especially you let your guard down. It's been a rough couple of weeks back in work, so when the night comes you're a victim of the stress, victim of your bosses and the people that surrounded you. You pour a glass of wine for yourself, light a cigarette even when you haven't smoked in years, and turn on the TV to see something else rather than the face of Homelander in every single channel you've been tuning lately.

It's a weapon. When you leave for a warm shower and start filling the bathtub, you're not aware of what that night was really going to be for you. Oblivious as you stand naked in the middle of the bathroom, holding the glass of wine between your fingers before entering the warm current that relaxed your muscles.

It seems tension is your worst enemy, makes your muscles feel like stone as you got in the water, the cigarette that hangs from your dry lips splashing with tiny droplets of perfumed water as the silence filled the air. It's what you needed, at least ten minutes with your brain shutting off completely, the pleasure you haven't experienced in forever by being so compromised with work.

It's a much-needed break. The smoke that leaves the room by the almost-closed window, the taste of wine still lingering in your lips as you sip another taste of the crimson liquor you love. You don't happen to notice when he's breaking in your apartment, silent and deadly as you were protected by a door closed and a white curtain.

You don't happen to hear him too. The music coming our from your phone is loud enough to silence the knocks on your door at first before breaking the wood, you're too deep in the still water that smelled like roses and vanilla, to even pay attention to what was going on outside the warmth of the four walls that surrounded you.

There's vapor coming out of the water and you find comfort in closing your eyes, in letting the blow of the smoke travel through your throat before suspending itself in the air, flowing as you drank.

In your defense, you haven't been like that in ages.

It's been a long time since you last fill the tub and have a relaxing session with yourself, so it makes sense you are enjoying it a little bit too much, too much cause when the invader is making a lot of noise when stepping into your property, you still enjoy the taste of the alcohol on your lips.

The ashes fall to the ceramic floor outside the tub and you should blame the CIA to make you so tense to the point it leads you to more problems than you ever had. In the dark room of your apartment, it's Soldier Boy the one who's going through any drawer he comes across, the ones closed, the ones hidden, any slit he can find, any clue that can trace your mother back to his personal vendetta.

He's oblivious to Stella's death and her daughter, so when the former superhero hears the noise in the bathroom he's fully convinced it's your mother the one who's behind that door, that she's the one who's going to tell him the truth, if she also sold him to the russians as well in the process.

He's decided also on killing her. She must need it after all that time getting older, closer to death more than ever.

Of course it's an unpleasant surprise when you can see the bathroom door opening when you're sure you left the front door closed and lock with at least two bolts to prevent anyone from getting inside, it makes you jump in the spot, quickly covering yourself from the new stranger that enters your bathroom.

"Stella?" he asks, it's the last room that the hero needs to check for himself.

You spot the green fabric of his suit immediately as you pressed your chest against the cold surface of the tub, and when the invader notices you're naked, he doesn't look away as any person with a hint of respect would do, but instead, continue on checking you out as you try to cover yourself in the water tinted in a nonexistent transparent color red.

You can feel his gaze as soon as you recognize him too, as you happen to notice that face from your mother's pictures, the propaganda in the TV when he did almost every commercial back when you were a kid. It's a shock, and dressed in his damn suit, you don't know why an old superhero is there standing beneath the yellowish bulbs of the light your bathroom happens to have.

Your cheeks adopt this pink color as you panic, grabbing the cup of wine to throw the liquid in the floor, breaking it against the marble walls just to shatter the glass in pieces, a weapon of defense as you lifted up against him.

"You're not Stella."

Soldier Boy looks amused: it's funny that you think you'd be able to kill him with shattered glass, yet he lets you keep thinking that way when he's enjoying the view.

Is he to blame? He just got out from this giant cooking oven back with the communists and he hasn't got his way with a lady since what seems are centuries, so when he spots you in the tub he simply cannot contain himself from peaking around. You should be in what? Not more than your 20's? Soft-looking skin that asked to be marked with his hands, by the force of his lips crashing in your flesh.

The thought is compelling, you're looking all feisty with the glass in your hand, threatening him and speaking something Soldier Boy cannot catch at first — Shit, he doesn't even notice the blood in your hand that's dripping all over your small rug in the floor, the power women like yourself seemed to have now and weirdly enough, a huge turn on.

"Get the fuck out!" you scream in an authority voice, the same you use back at work when you're mad, when you're usually holding a gun in defense more than a piece of broken glass "Stella is not fucking here!"

It takes a few more words to actually get him out of there, and as he closes the door behind him you finally stand to grab a towel covering from the currents of wind, trying, really hard, to think about anything else more that the fact that Soldier Boy has entered your house and your bathroom in the worst moment, far from what you were last updated with.

To be honest, it almost gave you a heart attack, leaving the bathroom to find your home torn apart, the drawers open and all the papers you've meticulously kept in place being all over the place as Ben stands awkwardly holding a shield in the middle of your living room.

"Fucking hell" you're cursing under your breath as you gathered some important things you cannot leave on the floor even when you're still wet from the shower, expelling this nice aroma that mixed the roses and the vanilla together with your personal scent — Weirdly enough, a fucking show to the hero that's already rock-hard from the peak he had of you from before.

You don't really notice it at first, too busy being mad as you let the papers you gathered on top of the table. You lose the shame you got left as the wet drops of the shower leave a trace in the floor — And as usual, you clearly don't notice it, but Ben does when the water is running down your back, and you're barking something about calling someone called Grace, holding onto a white tower with your dear life.

"Where is Stella Nightshade, sweetheart?" he speaks out loud cause he don't understand anything you say, really fighting to be nice with you like it would give him an opportunity to get under your skin.

"My mother's dead," you stand there without knowing what to say after. You know he and your mother were close, but you don't imagine he was going to actually go find her teammate when he recently woke up in a different country. "She died years ago dude, i'm sorry."

The information gathers in his head as you take a clean oversized shirt from the laundry basket covering with it as you throw the towel to the floor, Red Hot Chili Peppers it says, but he thinks it's a place in Italy more than a band like he isn't troubled already by the fact you were Stella's daughter, the person who thought was her only friend back in the time now dead.

"Does anyone know you're here?" your mind is drifting back to work again as you wondered if anyone knew he was going to break into your apartment and choose not to send any help — "Ben."

You've read his file. Hell, to be honest you've read every single file in Payback, so it's no surprise you know his name, but to the hero, it seems to be amusing when you call him by his real name, his mind fueled in a different direction as he notices you're not wearing any underwear beneath the shirt you're choosing to wear, one whose fabric's barely covering your tights.

"What do you mean dead?" he asks, furrowing his brows "It's not been so long."

"She got cancer three years ago" you explain with a sad tone, even when you disagree with Stella, it pains you to remember what sickness made out of her, consuming her from the inside at a cruel pace.

"Motherfucker," he states clearly angry, and you cannot help but look at him with a weird face, searching for the phone you left in the sofa to call any-fucking-body in the office that could send a damn army to get you: Didn't the Boys have everything under control? That's what you're told anyway, then why the fuck is the subject of matter cursing in your little messy apartment? — "Bitch just got away with it before I could do anything, isn't it? What a fucking shame."

"Pardon me?" it catches you by surprise at first, but it hits you soon after. Soldier Boy is not there to say hello to your mother or ask for her help, but instead, he's there to get revenge and actually kill Stella by his own matters.

Fuck. Of course is something new, something that makes you feel cold all sudden, your wet hair making you visible shake as you became aware of his plans.

"You know them. You know the people from the lab" it's more of a fact than a question, letting the words feel salty in his own mouth. "The ones that let me get away."

He's quickly to gather the pieces too, not as dumb as you think he is as the puzzle is finally coming up together in his head, and it's all it takes for him to take a step closer to you, cutting that space you've created since you kicked him out of the bathroom — He's angry now.

The red globe on his hand is now holding you by the throat, applying enough pressure to cut the air flow going to your lungs almost completely, his fingertips warm against your bare skin as he holds you in front of his figure, pushing you against the cold wall.

You usually would enjoy such activities, yet in the context you are trapped in right now, you began to choke, your own hands trying to push his grip back even when he’s too strong, not even flinching when you’re squirming, gasping for some air as your face became red, tears gathering in your eyes as he let you breathe for a couple of seconds when he senses you’re too close to black out.

“Talk little Nightshade” he says in a low voice. “Or else i’m breaking your pretty neck.”

“I work for the CIA!” You explain quickly as your breathing became more labored by the seconds. “Not for the people who let you out! I promise!”

He’s going to kill you. You can see the determination in his eyes, that predator look he happens to have.

What you don’t know, somehow, is that he’s going fucking insane. Your smell coming up to his nose to make him shiver, the sight of you in an oversized shirt that barely covers your shape is more than enough to push his buttons, to make him forgot about any killing he was allegedly so concentrated in fulfill, the sight of you almost crying messing with his brain.

Little Nightshade is a fucking tease.

His eyes follow your expression, the hand that gripped your neck and choke you harshly now pressing enough to only suppress the air flow in a more enjoyable way, the tension quickly shifting from dying to pleasure all over again as he kept you in place so easily.

It’s impossible to move, to do anything more than be pressed against a cold wall. Your mother has once again lied to you and you notice the relationship she painted with Soldier Boy was more of a movie in her head than reality itself. Makes you gulp in response when you stare at his expression, the face of a trained killer as you knew, fucking knew, a bit more of force in your neck and it would snap without any difficulty.

“I don’t work with them” you assure once again, maybe it’s your survivor skills hitting when you repeat it in a low voice, catching on your breath when he lets go allowing you to fill your lungs with air just enough before pressing that very spot again, the one that actually turns you on. “Fuck’s sake.”

Is that how you end? On your lame apartment?

The next is a weird thing, cause in the blink of an eye he’s close to your face planting his own body next to yours and you’re shivering at the feeling, his armor pressed against your chest as he left the shield he was holding on the floor.

The metal is pressed against your skin covered by the thin cotton of Red Hot Chili Peppers shirt, and he is so close, so close you froze there, no longer fighting his tight grip but mesmerized by his damn face, the same you watched on TV when you were a kid, the handsome man you happen to severely crush on in secret, just because you don’t want Stella to know or she will give you a long talk about how he is her age.

But he is, handsome as fuck, and now being so close to his face you can say it with all confidence. His beard is shaved perfectly and he smells incredibly good even for someone who has spent time locked away without any kind of hygiene, his green suit protecting him from the cold air that was getting through the opened window.

“Who are you?” he asks, scanning your face with a curious look as he wanted to know what expression you would have when you know why he's there in the first place — “What do you know about Stella Nightshade, your mother, selling me out?”

Fuck. So that's why he's there. You know she did it. And it's impossible for you to lie when he's making you so nervous, away from any weapon, any form of defense as you left the glass in the bathroom sink when you notice large gash on your hand, and your silence makes nothing more than leave him fuming. If he was angry before, he now reaches a higher level as his grip turns more violent now that he knows you know what he meant, why he's there claiming to talk with your death mother out of nothing.

"Call her then. Use your powers" he demands dryly, and you're shaking at this point cause it's more shame added to the long pile, the bathroom already being a humiliation by itself. "Fucking call her."

You squirm beneath his grabbing, when he's pushing you harder against the concrete wall and you can just feel him from under the suit, hard cock pressing against your belly, green in your vision as he towers over you. He knows what he's doing, and even when you try to be disgusted by it, you find yourself enjoying his closeness, how he's pinning you with no effort at all, hands on your throat while he demanded an answer.

"I can't call her" you admit in a low voice, cheeks now red as the embarrassment crept upon your face — "I don't have my mother's power."

Soldier Boy seems to not believe you for a mere second, after that you can feel the blade of the knife pressing against your skin, a threat that now becomes more real as you can feel the cold metal stomach. One swift movement and you'd be stabbed without a second thought.

It's sick how much you enjoy it when you are squirming against him, goosebumps in the zone he threats to destroy.

A force pull his lips upwards in a smile, unable to pay attention to nothing else but the sound you made without even realizing it. "You like that, huh little Nightshade?"

It seems to be a joke for him, bitting your inner cheek to prevent you from saying something stupid, from letting out a moan in response to all the sudden desire.

Despite all conditions you stay silent, holding his gaze like it's a game you're not going to lose. He didn't respond either, trapped in a second that seemed longer than the usual when time stopped around you, eyes looking like he can surpass the old fabric of the white shirt you choose to wear.

It's the tension what makes you mad. You're so into getting people like him, that your ego is bruised now that you notice you are actually attracted to all of that, to the way he's pressing you against the concrete, how all falls into place when he's pushing himself against you, invading any private space you could require.

He's kissing you soon after. Ben crumbles against the tension as the hand on your throat demands a kiss now, pulling you closer to his face without any warning nor concern as he crash his lips against yours in a rough kiss. You try to push him away in response even when you don't want to; see, it's hard to even admit you have interest in Soldier Boy in any other way more than the professional, but when he's bitting your lower lip you're letting your defense down: When is the last time you've been kissed like that?

You remind yourself you're tired from work, that the CIA has done nothing for you more than fuck your over and over even to this point, losing sight of one of the most important heroes of the word, and it's making you encourage to let go just for a mere hour.

"Lookin' so good takin' a bath" he says, and the sound of his deep voice is enough to send an electric wave through your spine, like he’s talking to himself as the hand on your hip is now tracing the curves of your body, taunting you from over the shirt he now learns to love. His beard is now scraping against your skin and you can feel his lips going down, tracing an invisible path to the crook of your neck as his hand is no longer choking you.

Jesus. Was that even happening or was that your imagination? Did you feel asleep on the bathtub? Maybe it’s a reflection as you are close to drowning, your brain doing that happy thoughts shit. You’re tilting your head to the side just to give him more space to work with and you’re just letting it be, enjoying how he’s sucking and nibling on your skin to leave a red mark behind, all teeth and no fucking control as he uses a good amount of force to make you moan in the process, the pain enough to remember who’s really on charge.

Ben forgets about asking any more questions, he’s too busy when his hand are taking decisions by themselves as they slide under your shirt, body still cold from the bath you just took, water still drying in your flesh when he’s like he usually is — An invader.

His hands are big and they’re capable of holding your whole tummy as he caress the soft skin that seems to expel a warm sensation, how it leaves goosebumps in any place he touches. You remember you’re basically at his mercy now that his hands roam with all liberty under your shirt, the look he gave you in the bathroom mistaken you for Stella, his eyes looking at any exposed skin he could look at.

“What the fuck,” you try to say under your breath, to keep on this facade you have of a composed person, one that won’t give in to be manhandled “What the fuck do you think you are you doing?”

“Well, i’m not seeing any complains” The blade cuts through the cotton leaving a large hole you know you won’t be able to sew after yet he’s right: There are no complains, nothing but eager that makes him go further as the seconds passed “In fact, can see that you’re pretty much enjoying it, Doll.”

You hate the nickname, that old man way of speaking when he’s squeezing one of your breasts with more force you can even handle, cursing at how easy it seems to be for him, how he wants to see you simply destroyed.

“You’re loving this isn’t?” he ask all sudden, studying you with his hazel eyes — “You love being a good whore f’me? My little Nightshade.”

He’s hard under the suit, covered in a green material you don’t know how to call as your hand searches for him, crave for him, convincing that it's what you must do as you trace the invisible lines his muscles made.

Soldier Boy’s messy, much like an animal when he’s groaning beneath your touch, his own body seeking for yours as your fingers grew bolder, demanding for a deeper contact — “Careful there sweetheart, i’m still fresh out of the oven. May be a little rusty."

You laugh at his words cause you know what he means, yet your hands work by themselves as you barely even touch him from over the suit, the hard feeling of his cock against your palm, hips buckling against your hand seconds after seeking for you, eyes shut for a couple of seconds.

“M’being careful” you say, catching yourself stealing a look at his reaction, taking your time on pleasuring him , gulping as he experiences the torture of your touch “Taking it slow for an old man.”

“Old man, huh? Now you're talking” He teases, and the sound of his laugh just fucks you up. Maybe it has to be with the fact he’s placing two fingers in front of your lips while looking at you, swollen pink lips he’s so fixated for a second, or it’s because he is, indeed, way older than you are — “Spit.”

It’s not a command, but it sounds like one as you’re unable to disobey, quickly spitting in his hand as you can visibly see the traces of saliva leaving a wet residue in your chin, one Ben looks at it for a good amount of time: How is something like saliva is so damn erotic? He doesn’t know it, but it’s enough to send him into a spiral.

He’s strong you think, cause he’s a superhero. He’s Soldier Boy by any meaning, so it’s not a big effort to hold you in his arms and lift you in the air as you let out a gasp of surprise, spanking your ass as one of his hands separates your legs for him, holding one up as you stand in the other.

“Relax, 'got you, doll” he says, your back against the wall as he kept a bruising grip in your hip, holding you in place so you don’t have to keep your balance — “Fuck you smell so damn good.”

The roses and vanilla aroma lingers on your skin as you finally understand what he's doing now, his hand close to your cunt as he taunts you, torturing you like you did so eagerly before, his personal pet as his digits get lost in your entrance now, your folds spilled with juice he can physically feel in his fingertips, your arousal's so nice against the palm of his hand he cannot help but kiss you, a feverish desire taking over his actions, the lewd sound his fingers made when he finally pushes his digits inside of you, velvety walls welcoming him as they seemed to squeeze him already — He has made such a good job on turning you on, it’s impossible to not react when he’s finally touching you, pumping into you in a constant pace.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he says, the look on your face is enough to make his cock twitch in his pants in response, imagination running wild as he thinks about that very same feeling in a much deeper way, how you’d look now stretched out, crying just like you did when he choked you asking for information — “Such a nice cunt, so wet f’me.”

He's looking at you, holding the image in his mind forever: Pink pussy displayed for him, white t-shirt rising over your chest, lifting your leg over his arm as his muscles flexed by the force he's using to fuck you deliberately, your lips parted as you ask for more in between erratic moans as his fingers curved inside you so he can hit that nice place he can reach with no effort at all, that one spot thats makes you moan louder.

"Ah-fuck" you let out. Ben's all about touching you for what it seems an eternity, thumb grazing against your clit when he's plainly torturing you, testing how much patience you have left now that he has full control of you.

"Don't cum," he demands, your heartbeats are louder by the seconds as he lifts you slightly, lips attacking your neck before the words escape from his mouth "Need you to come undone in my cock first."

He's leaving marks, marks you don't remember how to hide but don't bother you at all, touching you as he pleases you, taking all the time in the world cause it seems like the night belongs to him — Getting started as you shake your head in an improvised yes.

Yes. The thought is pure electricity, the sudden need to please him as you shake your head once again.

“Please Ben,” you don’t recognize what you’ve become now. “Please let me cum in your cock.”

"Go on doll, put on a show f'me" the supe says with a grin you cannot resist. "Bend and show me that lovely ass."

It’s all it takes. His fingers are now away from you, but you’re now facing the wall as you obey, bending until your cheek is pressed against the concrete and you can hear how he’s now unzipping his pants, the green fabric of his suit now to the side.

You look at him from over your shoulder, bitting the your lower lip as you check him out, his slightly curved dick pointing upwards, precum already leaking out.

“Like what you’re seeing or what?”

“Yeah, but there’s no fucking way.”

You’re feeding on his ego now, but you can’t help it when his size is far from what you consider it’s common — “Common’ doll. You can hadle it.”

You gulp in response cause you know you’re more than eager to try, just the sight of his own hand holding his lenght as he strokes himself making you drool in response. Fuck. It transforms in a need now. When he positions himself beneath you and he’s spitting down to that very place where he’s pushing against your hole, saliva coating his cock before just letting the tip inside.

Lubricated, he pushes a bit more and it feels just damn right. Even when it begans to hurt as he’s thick enough to force himself inside you.

Benjamin knows you’re in pain so he waits a second before shoving his cock inside one more time. You need some time as he stretches you out, clenching your teeth while he works.

"You're doing it s'good" he praises, hand massaging your back as he prevents himself from fucking you at his liking, “Takin' me like a champ."

"God" you let out a sharp moan moments after, crying when you felt the pain more than anything else — "Can't-"

"No doll" he hums as he pulls slightly more. “You can do this” he forces himself in until he's finally balls deep inside your cunt, letting you adjust to his size as he can feel fucking everything. Your blood flow, your velvety walls that squeeze him unused to someone as big as he was, your face distorted in what seems an intense mix of pain and pure, devastating pleasure — "Atta girl."

Strikes like lighting.

Soldier Boy's bitting your shoulder-blade as he waits, waits for it to switch into pleasure, to become intoxicating to the point you cannot longer remember your own name.

"Please move," you ask sooner than he thinks, and when he moves, you can feel it in your belly, melting your fucking brain as he repeated the process again, burying his cock as deep as he could go without any previous warning — "Ah, just like that, please-"

"Do you like how my cock is stretching you out now?" Ben's voice is way deeper than what usually is as he laughs, grunting behind you as one of his hands reach a fistful of your hair, grabbing it with force to pull your head backwards "Good girl, keep huggin' my cock."

You're drunk on the feeling, on the vibrations his voice sends every time he's saying something dirty for you, when he laughs victim of the pleasure.

"Gonna' keep you as my personal slut," he thinks out loud, pushing you against the wall every time he fucks you, using his other hand to spread one of your ass cheeks to the side so he can hit it harder. "Use you as my fucking pet so I can cum on your pretty face whenever I want."

He's moaning, your body’s sweaty as he pulls your hair without caring, not concentrated on the pain it produces as his hips continue on collide against you.

"Would you like that, little Nightshade?" he asks then in a low voice, his thumb pressing against your asshole as he fucks you harder now that you're used to his size. "Could get used to this pretty cunt. Promise to keep my cock whore nice and full."

It doesn't take long. Soldier Boy's moans are now filling the room as his pace becomes faster, slurred words between his erratic breathing when the hand on your hair comes up to finally grab you by the neck, like he can read your mind cause it's exactly what you need to get there, to experience by first hand a set of crashing waves that were getting more and more intense on your stomach.

You're close to the edge. He can smell it in the air when the sound of your skin slapping against his is loud enough to be all you can hear, mixing with the lovely moans you produce when he’s pounding into you with no mercy, fingers pressing the side of your neck with enough force you’re running out of breathe.

It’s messy, violent and you love it, love how he’s ruining you all sudden, fucking you up from the inside, making your vision turning dizzy in response. You’re immersed in the haze he’s driven you into before admiting:

“God i’m so fucking close.”

“Cum on my cock,” it sounds like he’s begging you to do it, fingers finding their way to your swollen clit to move against the sensitive flesh “Come on doll, leave me full of you.”

He’s making you move now, hands now controlling your hips as you take him as his liking, mere seconds until you’re finally crumbling, violently shaking as you finally reach your peak. He keeps on fucking you through your high, long enough so he’s pulling out all of sudden, stroking his lenght over you as his cum finally lands on your back leaving you convered with his load.

Fucking hell.

When you’re coming down from your orgasm shame seems to hit you hard, however for Ben is not enough when he’s kneeling on the floor, eyes on the mess his cock made out of you.

“Wanna go again, little Nightshade?” he asks curiously, and the question makes you laugh in response, forgetting about formalities and the trouble it meant you were intimate with Soldier Boy out of all the supes in the world.

“Hm,” you seem to think about it for a second, his breathing close to your wet pussy as he’s still wearing his clothes in contrast of you being so exposed — “But you’re keeping the suit on.”

He don’t have any complains when he’s the one pressing his face against your wet folds.

Funny thing is now when you’re forced to join the Boys days after that very encounter — A bad joke when you’re now babysitting Soldier Boy himself.

“Been missing you s’much little Nightshade” he admits after a couple of minutes alone in the filthy motel “Thinking about how cute you are, how you felt taking my cock so nicely in your living room.”

“Fuck off, Ben.”

“We’ll be quick” he promises “That stupid assholes back there wont even notice.”

You seem to think about it for a second before lifting your middle finger in response — “I said fuck off, Ben.”

For now, it’s enough for him that you’re thinking about it.

my masterlist

[lurochar]

Love Potioned

Alastor has been affected by a love potion. Or has he?

Warnings: Nothing? I don't think

-------------------------------

"Are you okay? We found the–”

“We are fine, Charlotte,” Alastor hisses and Charlie takes a step back in shock at the pure venomous tone directed towards her. “Now, if you do not mind…”

‘Fuck off’ was crystal clear and not even need to be said.

Charlie weakly raised her hand, turning her attention to what – or rather who – was currently being tightly held on Alastor’s lap against his front.

A very uncomfortable and dazed you.

Charlie was about to say something, opening her mouth, but you seemed to notice her and you shook your head as best you could with Alastor currently nuzzling his cheek against your hair.

‘Just go for now.’ You mouthed to Charlie and she winced. ‘With Alastor how he is right now, he might hurt even you.’

“But…” Charlie sighed, finally turning away when you kept frantically gesturing to her to do so. She glanced back, still in disbelief that Alastor had been affected so badly he was openly doing this in the lobby for anyone to see. She brought her phone out, deeming it safer to just text it to you.

I think I found the antidote

~♡♡~

“Alastor.”

You shivered as his tongue found your throat, licking the sensitive skin with long enthusiastic strokes while his clawed hands slid up and down your waist, as if they couldn't settle their position.

“Alastor.”

His ears twitched and it seems you got his attention this time around. He pulled back very reluctantly to see what you wanted, tightening his grip on you so you couldn’t move away. “Yes, Darling? I will be of any service to you.”

You stared wide-eyed at his lovedrunk expression, completely blown away by the heart-shaped pupils. 

How Alastor got dosed by a love potion, no one knew and he wasn't telling either.

Why you were the one Alastor zoomed in on for his affections was another mystery for the ages and, once more, he wasn't saying anything.

It was utterly bizarre to have the Radio Demon, who laughed at the very notion of ‘love’, to be abruptly all touchy-feely, constantly whispering sweet nothings in your ears, and growling at anyone who he deemed too close to your personal space.

“You didn't need to snap at Charlie like that.” You sigh, causing Alastor’s smile to twitch on one side

(HEHADTOENDHISTASTEOFYOURDELECTABLESKINTOTALKABOUTCHARLIE?!?!?!)

“She's just trying to help. I'm sure somewhere in your brain, you want this to be over.” You blink when you feel your phone vibrate in your pocket, not seeing Alastor’s eyes darken at your words when you reach for your phone.

(Want this to end?!?!)

You gasp in surprise when a tentacle snatches the phone from your hands before you have the chance to read the text from Charlie. “What are you doing, Alastor?! You better not break that! It isn't VoxTek!”

Alastor’s grin darkens into something that immediately puts you on edge once he reads whatever Charlie had sent you. “An antidote?” He says out loud and you inhale sharply before giving him an excited look.

“You can go back to normal! That's great! Isn't that what you want?” You smile encouragingly at him.

A dark laugh escapes Alastor and you instantly feel cold.

“Darling, what I don't think you realize,” you cringe when you hear that disturbing cracking noise when Alastor’s head snaps towards you too quickly, “is that I've been ‘back to normal’ for quite a while now.”

You watch in a silent horror as his heart-shaped pupils reform back to his normal-shaped ones on his own accord and you take a small step back. “Why…?”

“Hmm, Darling, don't pretend as if you didn’t enjoy my attention. I could smell it.” Alastor took a predatory step forward. “I admit, in the very beginning, I was under the effects of a love potion… that I took myself.”

“What…?”

Alastor let out a breath of frustration. “I was… unsure of how to go about it. I have no experience in this… area.”

You gaped at him. “You couldn’t just ask me out on a date like a normal guy?!”

“Would you have accepted a night out in Cannibal Town?” Alastor’s brow rose, almost huffing when your face paled at the thought.

“There are other places to eat. Even your little bayou would've been nice.” You rub your head. “Well, as long as you cook the deer.” You added with a mumble.

“Well, I shall remember such a simple thing for next time then.” Alastor straightens, but you can see that his ears drop ever so slightly. “Perhaps I did go a little too far in this endeavor.”

You stare at him blankly. “Yes. Yes, you did. And I won't go anywhere with you until you apologize to Charlie.”

Alastor closes his eyes. “I suppose I deserve that much.” His eyes pop back open. “But afterwards, Darling?” He takes in your own teasing smile with fervour.

“I guess we'll see after that.”