#my apologies if I /BUTCHered/ him | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hughiecampbelle · 3 months

Text

The Boys Preference: Wearing Their Clothes

Requested: i followed you for succession and currently im the boys brainrotted so you wouldnt believe my excitement when i realised you wrote for the boys too!!!!! i want to request maybe hc on how the boys would react to reader wearing their sweater/tshirts - anon

A/N: My love, the brain rot is so real!!! When I tell you I have an entire folder of The Boys edits, I mean I am kicking my feet and giggling at these people covered in blood lol. Thank you for requesting! Please feel free to again, I absolutely love writing preferences! I hope you like it!!!! Feedback is always appreciated 💜

Butcher absolutely adores you wearing his coat. It drives him wild. It started one night where you two were alone, the group split up. While everyone else had their own jobs, you and Butcher were on surveillance. It was freezing out. He noticed the goosebumps on your arms. You swore you were fine, but he could tell you were putting up a front. Oi, just take it. Not wanting to blow your cover and fight, you put his coat around your shoulders, thanking him. It's a long night and you take shifts. When he catches you curled in a ball, his coat wrapped around you, it tugs at his heartstrings. Something about this image of you just makes him melt. After that, he's eager to see it again. Realizing this, you never turn down his offer. Now you basically have 50/50 custody. You like it. It's warm and worn, but it also smells like him and, when you're apart, remains a reminder that he's always looking out for you. Both M.M. and Frenchie are full of jokes when they catch you wearing it, but Annie and Hughie find it endearing.

Hughie loves that you wear his t-shirts and hates it. Not only do you look better in them than him, which is annoying enough, and now everyone finds them funny now that you're wearing them, but now he can never find the one shirt he wants to wear. It's either on your body or in your closet. Of course he would never stop you, he doesn't want you to stop, but he does wish there was a little bit more of a compromise. You wore it the first time you slept over. Your shirt had been discarded somewhere you couldn't find, but Hughie's was right there. He tried not to show it, he tried not to get caught smiling, but he was way too obvious. Something about seeing you in his shirt made his day, his life. It never gets old. When it's laundry day, most of your clothes end up being his. Now he has double the laundry. Still, it's worth it. His clothes always come back smelling like you. When they get ripped or torn from fights you apologize profusely, but he's just glad you're okay. Who cares about a stupid shirt?

Annie has always loved you in her clothes. When you moved in together, your clothes just sort of became jumbled. Neither of you felt the need to separate them, so you really can't tell if the sweater you're wearing is hers of yours. When she buys clothes she always makes sure you like what she's picking out so that you both can wear it. No one even noticed what you two were doing, that one day you'd be wearing a shirt and a few days later it would be her turn, it's just sort of become a thing. When something gets ripped or torn or covered in blood, you're the first to make jokes. I loved that sweater, you say, though Annie knows what you really mean is it's a stupid piece of clothing, you're just glad she's okay, that's all that matters. Your favorite thing is to look at pictures where, in one, you're wearing this sweater and, in the next, she is. Something about that puts a smile on your face.

M.M. feels a little insecure. You used to love wearing his shirts. Truthfully, no one can tell what's his and what's yours, your and his clothes are so blended. Since becoming in charge of The Boys, as close to a leader as possible, he's lost a lot of weight. Grown smaller, and his clothes no longer fit you. You of course still have his old shirts, but his new wardrobe just doesn't fit. You assure him it's just temporary. The anxiety, the OCD, it really hurts his appetite. He can't even think about food anymore. Still, realizing that you can no longer share, it makes him self-conscious. Something about you wearing his clothes made him think that he was there with you always, that this was a way to protect you, as silly as it might sound. Now that you wear your clothes more, he isn't there to save you. It just adds to his many worries. You assure him you'll be safe, you'll always come back to him, but he just can't help it. You make a point to wear his older shirts as much as possible, not wanting him to worry more than he does.

Frenchie literally can't tell when you're wearing his clothes vs. your own. His style is pretty eclectic. His pants alone are bright and patterned and, to his friends, a fashion offense. His clothes are rarely organized, so you end up picking through piles to find something specific. Most of the time you have to point out when you've got one of his jackets or shirts on. He of course thinks you look better in them than him and he makes it known. Your friends make fun of you and him for some of the outrageous outfits you put together. Everything is worn in and soft and smells like him, a mix of cologne and fabric softener and smoke. Not realizing, Frenchie wears your clothes, too. Only when you ask for a shirt back or where it is does he realize oh! so this belongs to you. Neither of you mind. It makes you happy seeing him wear your clothes. He definitely styles is better than you.

Kimiko's entire closet is all black. Not only is it easy to blend in with the crowd, and it all matches, but it can also hide the sight of blood. Neither of you can really tell whose shirt or pants or jacket belongs to who, considering most of your clothes are pretty identical. Still, she'll poke fun at you every so often when she realizes you've got on one of her shirts. Is that mine? She smiles. Is it? You didn't even realize. You always ask her if she wants it back, if she wants you to change, but she shakes her head. She tells you look good in it, badass even, and you shrug it off, though it means a lot. You and Kimiko both are still figuring out how relationships work. It takes a lot of trust, something neither of you were very well versed in. Sharing clothes is just another way you two show that you're a partnership. No one else can tell, but you can. That kind of attention would normally make alarm bells go off in your head, but you know Kimiko, you know she does it out of affection and not something more sinister.

Bonus! Homelander rarely, if ever, wears civilian clothes. If he's not in his suit, he's probably naked. You've never seen him in anything else. The only time he's done it was to see Sage and that was in secret. Still, you find a way to share by wearing his cape. Typically wrapped around you after you slip from the bed, in search of your own clothes, half-naked and embarrassed. He assured you you have never looked better. Homelander likes power. He likes when people listen to him, respect him, and show him their loyalty. You wearing his cape shows him all of that and more. He never thought he'd like you in his clothes, it's just another thing he's territorial about, but he's pleasantly surprised. Now he expects it. If you forget or just don't wear it, his ego is pretty wounded. You assure him it's nothing against him. Now you go out of your way to do so, knowing it makes him so happy.

Bonus! Soldier Boy feels such an attraction to you when you wear his clothes. He doesn't really wear anything but his suit, so one day you jokingly put it on. You filled it out differently than he did, but it didn't look horrible. When he saw you, he was all smiles. The first thing that comes to mind is wanting to take it off you *wink wink*. What was a joke is now something you do on special occasions, putting it on and parading around in it. The things he says are awfully dirty and make you laugh every time. You never thought something as silly and simple as putting on his suit would end up driving him this wild. You should have known, it makes perfect sense, but you just never realized. When he does, on rare occasions, wear regular clothes, he's the first to suggest that you share. It isn't as enticing as wearing his suit, but the attraction is still there. It makes him feel like you belong to him, that you want to show that off. Nothing matters more to him than that. Nothing makes him feel more seen.

2K notes · View notes

inknopewetrust · 2 months

Text

𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐌𝐞, 𝐈 𝐇𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐝.

Summary: After days of uncertainty, you catch Aemond in the throne room and envision the future of what power can hold. [Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader] [WC: 2.8k]

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, smut, oral (f receiving), public sex, exhibitionism, overstimulation, enemies to lovers dynamic.

Quick Links: Masterlist | gif by @vizual-demon

“Knee deep in the [throne room] and you’re eating me out… is it casual now?”

“Do you always look so smug after killing your own blood?”

In your shadows, Aemond Targaryen stared at the Iron Throne in the storm.

Thunder eclipsed the skies over the castle. In the late evening, you could feel the shocks of lightning beneath your fingertips as they grazed the columns of marble that flanked the room. Each scream of anger echoed through the stones, you could hear it so clearly.

You could see him in the shadows of the throne.

Aemond Targaryen had returned from battle two days ago.

In those two days, the world had changed drastically compared to the one that it was before. A King incapacitated, a legend buried in the rubble of a fallen house, and two sides burning as bright as the cascading terror above.

The tide was shifting and the power in the halls was striking.

Aemond’s arms hung limp at his sides. For someone so thirsty for the power the room held, his apathetic nature would bury him. He could see the darkness of the swords; twisting and bleeding each person dry for their aspirations.

He wanted to be someone who was remembered.

Aemond Targaryen did not want to be immortalized in history as a weak member of the greatest family to ever exist in this world. In his dreams he saw a man of profound strength and terror—someone who reigned a fearsome government with unyielding standards.

In his cruelty, he wanted people to see a person who would not sacrifice his name for peace.

So yes, he was a bit smug at Rhaenys’ demise and ultimately Aegon’s injury. He would not be in this position now had he not done what was asked of him.

But he didn’t answer you—Aemond did not feel the need to acknowledge it because he knew you understood. Even if you were to be cutting and cynical, Aemond knew you rationalized his beliefs in a similar fashion.

And that enticed him.

You had always enticed him. So simple yet cunning, an outsider amongst the other ladies in your class. You were not a whore, you were not a mother, and yet he wanted to know what it felt like to be a feign of your touch.

How would your hands feel on his body? Your delicate fingers wrapped around him?

“Ah,” you ticked at him, pushing off the stone pillar and moving in his direction. “You see, My Prince, when you allow a dragon’s head to be paraded for the city to see, people are going to notice.”

“Power is power. We needn’t parade it unless it was necessary to remind them who they should bend the knee to.”

“At the ill will of a sacred creature?”

Meleys was once a beautiful dragon. It was such a shame that the second time you were able to witness her beauty it was in the butchered attempt of showing off. The grandstanding sickened the soil.

“It does not take a Targaryen to understand that.”

“What would you know of Targaryen customs?” He spoke back. His voice was thin and dry. “You will never know.”

“I apologize… for my lowly status is not on par with such a great house. I am sure my Lord Father would appreciate the sentiment.”

You have a coy, playful smile that he could feel in his bones. The kind that would chide him, never take him too seriously, and one that rarely doubted him.

It was an uneasy feeling. One he would never quite get used to.

“His ambitions are not unknown. How people without power seek it.”

“Is that not why there are whispers of what you have done?” You questioned and his hands turned to fists quickly. “Small folk talk, Aemond. Power is power but when you misuse it, the omen may come true.”

The omen hovered like the storm above. The God’s were battling in the realm in the sky; giants of proportions unfathomable in their richness of blood. They scorched and rattled in the sky as cracks of thunder rumbled throughout the Keep.

“Yet I speak nothing of it,” he eyed you solemnly. “You talk of rumors and fallacies as if they hold truth. Perhaps it is I who should ask where your loyalties preside? Does war scare you?”

Aemond approached you with long strides. His hands lingered at his sides but never held onto his hilt, threatening you with violence or harm for your disagreements.

He could see you did not fear war. Your father would have called on your return if the prospect of war scared a house with the name of your own. A prominent family in the Vale—to the Greens you were a key.

And he could play you a fiddle if you let him.

“No,” you replied, keeping your head tall. “I live in a gilded tower.”

“That has been infiltrated before. It has seen death before.”

“They do not seek me,” your eyes ran along his face as the sky illuminated his sharp features. “But you know that.”

Aemond hummed and in a moment of faulted want, his right hand reached to brush your own. The electricity of shock pulsing through your veins as though it was as important as blood itself.

You swallowed the nervousness that built in your throat at his actions. He was so sure of himself, so different from the man you had known before.

He took his sins and bathed in them. Aemond let the water dry in confidence of himself as Prince Regent. If he was going to rule in his brother’s stead, he needed the reverie of power to seep inside of him.

“Men will seek anything if they are given the chance.”

You traced the direction of his eyes to your hand, how he ghostly itched to touch you again.

“And what is it that you seek?” You questioned quietly. “Is being a ruler not enough?”

In the lull, your ears filled themselves with the sound of your heartbeat. Pumping and beating to the thrills of anticipation you sought in the sordid walls of an ugly Keep. To please a King, well… It was a dangerous thing.

Aemond’s hand touched yours loosely again. His fingers gently grazed yours with a profound intent that was something he sought.

“No,” he admitted. “It is not.”

His hand bypassed yours and rested lowly on your hip. The touch stilled you. In the darkness of the hall, the world stopped moving and your vision tunneled. His hand moved higher to rest upon the crux of your hip and stomach, thumb caressing the fabric of your dress. He stepped closer.

Without thinking, you took a step back out of the chills that erupted on your skin, not out of want. He took the space you created and closed it again but followed you as you moved backwards and backwards until your back hit one of the marble columns you had hid behind not twenty minutes earlier.

One of your hands caught yourself on the column and the other wove itself around a post. The wings of the throne room were elevated for spectators that were nonexistent now.

Aemond’s other hand mirrored the other and he held you there.

“If someone came looking for you,” he huffed, tilting his head to the side which allowed his eye to narrow. “What would you let them do to you?”

You furrowed your brows yet the feel of his hands burning through your dress allowed your mouth to run dry.

Nothing. You would let them do nothing to you. You would fight to the death to defend yourself but if it were Aemond, you would let him devour you.

“What about me, hm?” There was a faint smile on his lips. “What would you let me, your Prince Regent, do to you while the Gods watched over us?”

His hands slithered up your torso, drawing a staggered breath from you as he cupped your breasts over your dress and groped hard to feel the flesh. Aemond saw your chest stutter under his touch.

“Tell me,” he whispered, pulling his head in close to yours. His lips became a mere centimeter from yours; breath lingering in the space between you heavy and taught.

“I-I-I,” your nerves got the better of you. Stumbling over your words like a dolt, his hands moved back down and began to gather your dress in his hands.

“Poised to stick pins where the plans now lie but a stuttering fool now.”

“I am not a fool,” you huffed as the cool night air began to make itself known against your ankles, then your shins. “I know what I want.”

Aemond leaned in, knocking his nose gently with yours.

“Tell me,” he repeated.

“I want you to touch me,” you instructed him. “I want to feel the mouth of a King on my lips and under the Gods I do sin, but I wish to feel his lips elsewhere.”

“Oh?” Aemond hummed as his hands continued their path. “I may not hold the title of King-”

“You are a King, Aemond,” you said assertively and his hands stopped.

“You rule in the place of Aegon’s incapacity and by all law and rules, you are the one to carry the heavy sword. You speak the actions and see them true.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed at the reality.

Aemond’s power lingered. It lingered in this great hall but it was a shell. The Aemond he felt in his bones was still as scared as the one who killed Lucerys.

“I wish to feel your lips elsewhere,” you whispered, breath fanning his face. He tilted his head upwards and for a split second, his lips touched yours.

Intoxicating; you would have fallen to your knees had you not already wished to see him on his.

“I want to see a King on his knees.”

Aemond could only smirk. He planted a quick, brief kiss on your lips before bunching up the skirt of your dress as he knelt down to the floor. A beckoning, ethereal call from above led him to his knees to worship. With his hands collecting the material of your dress, Aemond’s hands met yours and opened them the best he could for you to grab onto it. He used the leverage of your assistance to bring down your stockings, clear the way of his alter as the thunder roared from above.

You let your head fall back against the pillar as his hands roamed your thighs, inching higher and higher but still skimming past the now unguarded temple.

You could not help but look at the exits in view as though someone would walk through them at this hour.

This late hour when all of the good, pious Lord and Ladies, Prince and Princesses, laid in their beds asleep—sans the King he would never fault himself for burning.

“Aemond,” you spoke with a voice that shook. “What if someone were to see us?”

He stopped his hands, gazing up at you from the ground on which he knelt.

“Let them see then,” he kissed the front of your thighs. “If they see, then I will marry you.”

Fuck. It made your heart leap in your chest. A frog in your throat, the honesty in his eye was enough for your anxieties to settle but your excitement to grow.

He would marry you. What a world you wished you lived in.

If all were true, it would have happened the first time he touched you.

“Drop your dress,” he ordered.

Without hesitation, you dropped the skirt of your dress and he vanished before your eyes.

But you could feel him.

You could feel the breath of his body releasing itself just beyond where you ached for him the most. His grip on your thighs was bruising. Aemond used his position to prop one of your legs on his shoulder, sending you off balance and into the bannister behind you.

But then his hot breath met where you wanted him and the feeling melted you from the inside. Aemond peppered kisses on your mound, waiting until the perfect moment to lick a stripe through your folds and with it, you folded yourself.

Daydreams of his hands on yours was not enough. The feel of your hand in the solitude of night where the sins of pleasure were trapped behind heavy doors could not compare. Aemond attached himself to your flesh and sucked, hard, before lapping again in a more gentle fashion. He repeated it again and again until the wetness began to gather more audibly.

There was no stopping the breathless pants escaping your lips.

You gripped hard on the marbled post. If you were the strongest woman in the Seven Kingdoms, you could have crushed it beneath your fingertips. Aemond’s tongue laded the wetness and gathered it in a lewd slurping noise to your clit only to run his tongue over it in brisk movements.

“Aemond-” you swallowed your moan. Knees threatening to buckle, you wanted to grip onto him. Your hands sought his shoulders, his head or hair, and a soft bed.

The Iron Throne was taunting you in the background. Power so divine, so close yet a million miles away.

Aemond wouldn’t marry you, but in the moment, you would live sinfully until the Gods caught you in truth.

He let out a low hum that made your senses tingle. He too was enjoying the pleasure he could bring, growing his own in his trousers that begged for its own mercy. Aemond could feel you palm at his head from the fabric that fell over his head—a delicacy; the rapture of someone he could love one day if he let himself.

Your helpless want forced you to roll your hips against his face as though his tongue was not enough. Aemond gripped your hips tightly to guide you against his mouth.

“Shit.” The words fell from your lips freely.

“Aemond, I don’t think I will fare much longer,” you admitted to him and felt yourself burn from the inside. His accommodations to your wants, the fluidity of his tongue against you in need was sending you barreling toward the edge.

Your mewls became whines that rivaled the thunder.

In an instant, he removed his mouth from yours and appeared from under your skirts. Your clit throbbed as the blood began to rush downwards and a sickening wetness that was not your finish began to trickle down your leg.

“Wha-”

You could not speak before his lips met yours aggressively. You could taste yourself on his lips and for a second, you wanted to recoil at the thought but his hands cupped the back of your head softly and everything melted into you.

You wished he would marry you.

“I am not done,” he broke the kiss and admitted. “But I could not hold that in any longer.”

His sentiment took you aback. Your eyes searched for a lie; begging for a fallacy to come true and reveal itself in the ugly colors of night but there was nothing. There was nothing but truth and in it, it broke your heart in the slightest.

Aemond wanted to kiss you. He wanted to please you, pleasure you, hold you tightly as a husband would do but he wouldn’t marry you.

He couldn’t marry you.

But he would love you in the depths of darkness as his power soared for a brief moment in time and the hands of a fair lady, opposed by his mother, warmed his bed in the evening. May the throne be his witness, Aemond Targaryen was a sinner.

He kissed you again before falling to his knees once more.

As promised, he worked in quick licks to ignite the spark. It lit up the room brighter than the sky as the Gods boomed in discontent but they worked to drown out the sounds of your elation the closer you became. Aemond let you gather the dress back in your hands so you could see him as his tongue circled your clit and he pierced your cunt with two fingers sliding in the wetness easily. Your legs trembled. His other hand ran soft strokes along the muscle to sooth you but it was fruitless.

His fingers curved inside of you, massaging your walls as they clenched around him and swore to the heavens for a release.

“Fuck, Aemond.”

He enjoyed hearing the words no Queen would dare mutter. It dared him to move faster, to move more heavy against your walls, against your lips as he continued to lap the juices that made the ghosts in the halls look away in a blush.

It was building to a precipice inside of you. As though a volcano was erupting, you let out sounds he had never heard. You were not trying to be quiet. You were letting the castle hear your pleasure that would send you to a horrible fate.

And you begged him to bring you to the end. His name lost its true meaning as it became lost in the night, falling from your lips breathlessly and your eyes shut tightly as the chills in your spin sent you spiraling.

He was no God, but Aemond Targaryen gave what he had as a God should.

“Darling,” he murmured from below. “Let them all see what a King can do.”

And you did.

A/N: thanks for reading! As always comments, reblog, and likes are always appreciated. I love hearing from all of you and thanks for letting me write this little self indulgent fic.

1K notes · View notes

cranberry-writes · 3 months

Text

Dating Headcannons for The Boys characters!

Please send requests, i need motivation

Characters listed; Hughie, Butcher, M.M, Frenchie, Kimiko

Warnings; Mentioned drinking and cannon typical violence/language. Also i’m barely on season 2 please bear with me

Hughie;

- He’s so so sweet about your relationship

- He gets you flowers for no reason other than he saw them and thought you’d like them

- He has thousands of reminders so he won’t forget anything, from a drink you liked to your anniversary he will have it written down.

- Later on in the series he gets protective and cautious about the relationship, scared someone (homelander) will mess it up by hurting you

- He’ll probably push you away a bit to try and protect you but after you knock some sense into him he’ll be back to normal

- Loves park/library dates, going on a picnic during the summer and to the library when it’s to cold out.

- He will do so much for you (flowers, gifts, dates etc) and insist it’s nothing but will cry (happy tears) if you do the same

- Don’t get me wrong tho, he’s still a bad ass (sometimes). He just dosnt want you to think differently of him because of it, he’s hurt people, killed people, and he honestly isn’t too keen on focusing on it. Even if you two are in the same line of work.

- And if you two don’t work together he tries to keep his ‘work’ life and dating life separate, very separate.

“You’ve never told me what you do for work, maybe i could stop by and meet your co-workers.”

“Uh, actually, i don’t think that’ll work.”

“Why not? is everything ok there or something?”

“I-, uhm, work alone, so i don’t even have coworkers for you to meet really, it’s really boring infact you’d probably fall asleep just from me talking about it hahaha.”

- You find out like two days later

Butcher;

- Little shit

- I mean that affectionately

- His pet names will range anywhere from “Darlin’” to “Fucker” and i WILL stand by it

- He’ll probably introduce you to his work before he does his dog

- But his dog is the big ticket, you meeting Terror is essentially his way of proposing before proposing

- He’s protective but not in the “i’ll watch your every move” more in the “im teaching you how to use every weapon to ever exist” way

- Honestly work would probably come before you for a while before he sucks it up and actually makes an effort

- Dates will be at the most shity bar imaginable, unless he’s apologizing for something then he’ll take you to the nicest place he can and put on a suit. (it’s the Cheese Cake factory and he’s wearing a Hawaiian shirt under his jacket but he’s trying)

- Unlike Hughie he will introduce you to his work at some point, granted it would still be a while before he did but he would at some point.

- He’s sweet in his own way

“Darlin’, look what i got ya.” And it’s a Garfield shirt a size to big but you still wear it anyways

MM;

- Definition of husband material

- remembers anything and everything after being told one time

- makes you baths with rose petals and candles and all that stuff if you mention you’ve been tired lately

- Takes you out to the movies and a nice restaurant at least twice a month

- Good gods he’s sweet to you

- He knows how to cook/bake and will make stuff for you all the time

- My guy will make a meal from your culture and practice making it almost daily just to give you a taste of home.

- He really loves back massages and cuddling after a long day

- Put on some crappy reality show for background noise and nap together

- He wants you as far away as humanly possible from his work, will literally say shit like “everyone at work has the plague you can’t visit” as a joke to try and change the subject

- Chances are you won’t find out

- His favorite flowers are tulips and nothing will change my mind about it

“Baby what are these?”

“Tulips, I bought them from a street market on 11th today. They’re your favorite, right?”

“Gods, sweetheart you’re perfect.”

Frenchie;

- When you two meet you both think it’s just going to be a one night stand

-…then it’s two nights, then three, then a week, then you start spending more time at his place than your own. One day you guys just realize you’re moved in and dating

“Are we dating?”

“…Was there anything else we could be mon cœur?”

- honestly i don’t think you two would get together if you weren’t working together, or at least you were also into some shady shit

- But overall you guys have a strong relationship, one gets hurt the other kills someone, someone is hungry the other is already cooking, stuff like that

- He also cooks but it’s only french food, it’s like a super power. He can cook any french food effortlessly but literally anything else he messes up

- If you are french he’ll be super happy someone else will appreciate the same stuff in a similar way

- If not then he’ll be happy to share stuff with you, teach you some french words and tell you about stuff he grew up with

- Honestly he’s just happy someone (other than Kimiko) will listen and take an interest

Kimiko

-I have a confession to make, Kimiko is my favorite and i have a very blatant bias towards her

- Kill anyone you want bby i don’t care ill always like you

- Anyways, It probably takes you a while to get close enough to her that she’ll consider dating you

- Once y’all get to that point i don’t think you could break it tho

- I think she would like constant minimal physical contact, like hand holding or leaning on each other

- I think she’d be pretty protective over you, like someone looks at you wrong and she wants to maul them

- Learn sign language with/for her she will love it

- Draw with her, get her supplies, like those alcohol markers i’m sure she’ll love them

- Honestly i don’t think she’d be big on pet names, she wouldn’t object to it but i don’t think she’d give you one first

- Cook for her, i just think it would be sweet and she deserves it

“I got you some of those markers you’ve been looking at for a while.”

Thank you, this is nice

- Please she’s perfect i love her

808 notes · View notes

anundyingfidelity · 6 months

Text

BLOOD, SWEAT & TEARS — Billy Butcher, Soldier Boy

Summary: A normal night where Butcher and his new pal, Soldier Boy, fuck just their stress out with a new toy, you.

Pairing: Billy Butcher x female reader x Soldier Boy

Word count: 1.5k.

Warnings: porn without plot, dom!butcher, dom!ben, one thought of dub-con but not really, double penetration, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, rough sex, vaginal sex, anal sex, unsafe sex (creampie and switching holes basically don't do it, this is just porn), squirting, dirty talk, blowjobs, facial, degradation (usage of whore, slut, etc.), cumplay, some dacryphilia, choking, hair pulling, blood, mentions of violence, Ben and Butcher being kinda jerks, normal misogyny coming from SB, some ego competition, hints to aftercare.

Notes: You already know english is not my main language, not betad and barely revised, lol sorry for the mistakes in here. The amount of horniness I have for these two I swear is not fucking normal. Normally I'd apologize for writing this, but I'm ovulating.

the boys/jackles tags: @k-slla

☕ if you like my writing, support me with a ko-fi !

GEN MASTERLIST!

A pair of rough hands held your legs open. Your empty pussy was throbing as Butcher knelt between your thighs rubbing the tip of his cock against your cunt.

You gasped, the man behind you spreading you further for his new team mate to get better access while he fucked your ass senseless. His cock reaching all the right spots. You moaned loudly, almost screaming when Butcher finally pushed inside you. Soldier Boy never seemed to cease his insane thrusts from behind.

"Luv, you're so fucking tight," Butcher grinned, your walls engulfing him perfectly.

They both soon set up a rhythm, one pushing in while the other almost slide out of your hole. Each stroke of their massive cocks inside you exploded something you never felt before. It was a new kind of spark eliciting from the deepest places, and you wanted to come undone there, over and over, forever, between their strong bodies.

"Oh, fuck! Yes right there, god!" you growled, screamed, and cried out incoherences as the two men continued fucking you to bliss.

A layer of sweat covered your skin and you rolled your eyes back, the familiar knot on your belly building up yet again. You didn't have an idea of how much time had passed since you arrived back to the dirty motel. All three of you arrived covered in blood, dirt and the weight of murder, and you still let them take you and you welcomed them the same way. You let them have fun with you however they pleased.

The last thing you remembered from that night was coming back from a mission. Your aching body begging for a shower and good sleep, but Butcher and the new supe found other ways to take their own stress out. You doubted at first. Of course you didn't know it could feel this good. They left bite marks all over your neck, nipped your tits, spanked your thighs open for their mouths to devour you while the other fucked your throat until tears streamed down your cheeks.

They continued bruising and marking your skin. Like a canvas, they left their prints, covering your flesh with different colors all over and used your mouth and pussy as they fucking wanted, granting access to the other, spreading your legs, manhandling you all over the disgusting, shitty room. Then Soldier Boy had the idea of using your ass, just for him, and at first, you were fucking scared. It was all too much. But once he had you ready and stretched enough with his fingers, you quickly fell for his rough touch and his dick, which was as huge as his ego. He was fucking addictive. Both were, in fact, fucking you amazingly hard.

One of Ben's hand wrapped around your neck, climax reaching its peak as Butcher rubbed your clit with his thumb. Your walls clenched around both of them and the vulgar sound of your pussy filled the place along with their skin hitting yours.

"Little slut, gonna cum for us?" Ben said, voice full of lust, pressing your back against his bare chest. You clenched again, his dark chuckle enhanced heaven down your cunt.

Wetness increased between your legs, and you moaned. Louder than ever. The whole place might already know what was happening in the room, but neither Ben or Billy made you shut up. In fact, they wanted you to scream your lungs out.

"Oh, she's definitely gonna cum," Butcher followed, a smirk on his lips. "C'mon sweetheart, don't be shy. Give us one more."

"I-I feel like- fuck!" with a loud cry you squirted all over them, their dicks sliding out of your holes. Shit, that was the harderst you came for the night.

Immediately you tried to close your shaky legs, but Butcher's hands held you in place, pussy clenching around nothing as your fluids coated their hard lenghts and thighs.

"Fucking hell. I'm gonna break you, sugar," Ben hissed, taking your legs and fixing your position on top of him, sliding you down his dick, but this time he claimed your pussy, pistoning in and out of you without any mercy. Even if your body still trembled and you were so fucking overstimulated. You moaned.

Butcher tskd as he watched you, tears streaming down your face and lost in pleassure. "That was mine, pal."

"Yeah, I don't give a fuck- Jesus, she's fucking tight!" Ben hoarsed.

He didn't care about Butcher, he just wanted to fuck you until you passed out and his name was the only thing on your mind.

You whimpered softly. "Please, please," you were getting there again, under the brunette man's dark eyes as the soldier fucked you insane.

But before you reached that sweet peak again, Ben pulled out of you. His strenght forced you to bend over the matress on your hands and knees, Butcher positioned himself right in front of your face. It was so fast and they moved quickly, like a dance already choreographed between them to take advantage of all you got to give.

"Open wide, baby" Butcher ordered. You complied happily, letting his cock touch the back of your throat smoothly.

Ben's rough hands gripped your hips, down your ass, giving a spank on one of your cheeks, making you jump slightly. He grabbed your ass cheeks spreading them to expose your hole, the tip of his cock teased your ass until he slid in a swift motion. You whimpered with your mouth stuffed. He filled you up perfectly and you fucking loved it.

"Such a good cumslut, taking my cock so fucking well," Ben praised, voice husky. He roughly gripped your hair, forcing yourself down more around Butcher's shaft. You gagged, he smirked. "Might just keep you around as my little, personal fuckdoll."

"Fuck- easy there, mate," Butcher warned, as you worked your tongue and lips on his cock as much as you could. "We have another deal, remember?"

Ben smirked cockily at him as you clenched around his cock. You let out a moan muffled by Butcher fucking your mouth. Both their thrusts harder than ever. "Still, I don't give a shit."

Ben's gaze admired you, hands on your hips, as he watched himself shoving into your hole. "You're gonna fucking cum again, you dirty little bitch," he ordered.

"Mmm..." You nodded as best as you could with the twitching cock on your mouth.

Butcher suddenly pulled out of your mouth, a string of saliva leaked down your lips to the tip of his cock. He kept your head in place as much as he could and jerked himself off with his other hand. He came with a hard groan all over your pretty face. His white seed painted your cheeks, lips and your tongue sticking out as you shut your eyes.

"Bloody hell, don't you look ravishing," Butcher whispered darkly. His thumb collected his cum, now mixed with your tears and a small stain of dry blood on your face. He dragged it to your lips so you could taste it. Your plump lips closed around his finger with a moan.

"Insatiable slut, just how I like them," Ben hissed, pulling out of your asshole, making you whimper. "Now, I'm gonna cum inside this pretty little pussy."

He rubbed the tip of his dick on your slit and entered slowly. You felt every inch stretching you out and he slammed into you brutally, he was so fucking close. You could feel it. It surprised you how much they actually endured, their stamina was endless and you lost count of how many times they made you cum already. And yet, you felt that precious sensation anew, soft walls clenching repeatedly around him.

"C'mon whore," Ben gripped on your hair, pulling your back against his muscular chest, taking both your wrists with his other hand. "Cum around my cock."

Your cunt pulsed, he grunted. And you came, again, with shaky legs, shaky breath and the sight of a naked Butcher, who already had taken a seat on the couch in front of the bed. Your orgasm triggered Ben's, and he filled you up completely. You cried out when his fingers found your clit, the grip on your hair long gone now. He continued fucking his cum inside you, balls deep, until he started to soften inside you. His thrusts slowed down little by little.

Ben finally pulled out, letting go of your wrists and you collapsed on your hands and knees on the mattress. He spread out your pussy with his fingers and admired his white cum dripping out of you.

"Well, that was a fucking ride," he smiled. His middle finger wiped his seed and forced it back inside your pulsing cunt. "Fuck, where do you find these kind of women?"

Butcher shrugged. "I have my contacts."

"I'm still here, y'know," you breathed out, rolling on your back.

Ben hovered over your tired figure. Messy hair, cheeks stained with Butcher's cum, teary eyes, and some dry blood spots decorated your face. They did break you and put you back into pieces. He was damn proud of that. He leaned down and sucked into the skin of your neck. You moaned, your fingers tangled on his scalp as his lips carressed your neck, his beard burning on your soft skin.

"Ben, I'm tired," you said, and he stopped his kisses. He shared a suspicious look with Butcher and then locked his lustful green eyes with yours.

The supe winked at you. "Later, doll."

You rolled your eyes and heard Butcher standing up.

"Gonna prepare you a bath, luv," he said as he disappeared inside the bathroom. "Have to take good care of ya."

2K notes · View notes

lurochar · 4 months

Text

By the Full Moon

18+ MDNI

The Radio Demon finds a spell to go back in time to reacquaint himself with his wife. His past human self is more than willing to help.

Demon Alastor x Reader x Human Alastor

Warnings: Demon Alastor mainly referred to as Radio Demon to differentiate between human Alastor. Established relationship between Alastor and Reader. OOCness. PWP. Aphrodisiacs. Lame title. Basically pure indulgence here. I haven't written anything in a while and smut even longer, so I apologize if it's bad.

----

You were worried.

Truthly speaking, you had no reason to worry as Alastor was more than capable of taking care of himself and even more so since he had his hunting rifle with him and more than likely his hunting knife, but you just could not help yourself.

After all, that murderer now labeled the Bayou Butcher was still on the loose and law enforcement had no clue as to who the killer was.

It was a silly worry since Alastor was still on the property simply storing away his hunting rifle in the shed a little ways from the main house, but it seemed like he was taking far too long to do so.

You could not help but to pace near the front door, knowing that once Alastor finally came back, he would just give you his signature smile and laugh at your apprehension all while calming your nerves down with a single stroke down the side of your cheek with his thumb.

‘He’s fine.’ You thought, breathing in deeply as you attempted to calm your pacing. ‘There's no need to worry like this. He will be back any moment.’ You nodded your head with your thoughts, finally able to stop your body from your frantic movements.

And it was only a few minutes later that you heard the key to the front door being inserted before it swung open and you instantly perked up. “Alastor!” You called out to your husband in relief, quickly moving towards him, your mind registering the radio static in the air before your body did and you abruptly froze, watching stunned as not one, but a second figure entered the house.

“Darling! I apologize for taking so long!” Alastor opened his arms, wrapping them around you and observing you closely as you trembled like an adorable newborn fawn, just as he – they expected you would. “I didn’t expect to meet such fine company outside our humble little abode here! Such a riveting conversation we had!”

Red eyes stared hungrily into yours.

“I–” You stammered, shakily peering over Alastor’s broad shoulder to look at the… otherworldly being currently standing in you and your husband’s house. “W-what– w-who is that?” You could not help the tremble in your voice.

“Hmmm,” Alastor stroked your hair, seemingly trying to find the right words. “Funny enough, this gentleman’s name is also Alastor. Isn't that just a neat coincidence?”

“What?” You looked to Alastor weakly, knowing his name was not exactly the most common of names out there. “But that’s…”

“Do excuse my rude manners,” the ‘other’ Alastor suddenly spoke and his voice possessed the exact same tone, accent, and cadence as when your Alastor spoke on air on the radio, “but I simply had to stop when I noticed your lovely house, my dear! Why, it looks the exact same as the home I once owned many years ago! So I hope you don’t mind me dropping in unannounced like this.” He began to move closer and you shivered in your husband’s hold, “It’s a pleasure, quite the pleasure, my little Doe. I’m Alastor, the Radio Demon.”

What!?!?

“D-demon?” You swallowed thickly, tightening your grip in Alastor’s coat as you took in the ‘Radio Demon’s’ features. He certainly was not human, that was for sure and with those tall ears (and tiny antlers?), you almost wanted to say he was almost deer-like, but those utterly massive fangs, razor-sharp claws, and terrifying smile had you second guessing yourself.

“Remarkable, isn’t it?” Alastor murmured in your ear. “A demon straight from Hell, he says. Who would have thought Hell actually existed?” He chuckled, but you barely heard a word he said.

A demon.

A demon was standing in your house.

A demon named Alastor.

“W-wha…” You faltered, whimpering when the Radio Demon stepped in front of you and in your personal space before you could even respond. “W-what’s happening?”

“You have no idea, my darling Y/N, how long I’ve waited for this.” Demon Alastor’s tipped your face upwards with his deadly claws rather gently to get you to look at his face (and wow, was he ever so very tall), “How many decades it took for me to find a spell that could break the laws of time, just so I could see you again.”

Your mind was racing, but ultimately, could not keep up with the situation.

Decades? Spells? Laws of time? Demons? Hell?

What was all of this? Did you fall asleep waiting for Alastor to come back and were just having some bizarre dream?

“It's not a dream, my love.” Alastor seemed to know what you were thinking as he began to nuzzle the crook of your neck. “I didn't quite believe it either, but he knows things about me that none other could, including you.”

“T-Then you're saying–” You could not even finish your words and you jumped when the Radio Demon's claws tightened around your cheeks, not enough to cause pain but enough to get your immediate attention. “T-that you… you’re–!”

“Figured it out, my darling Doe?” The Radio Demon’s grin stretched inhumanly wide. “I'm sure you have, you always were quite clever, my dear, but in case you haven't…”

Your heart pounded.

“Yes, I am Alastor Hartfelt, your husband. A denizen of Hell for decades now, though I have done well if I do say so for myself. I am a Demon Overlord, the Radio Demon. The year, I believe, was 2024 when I last checked.”

2024?!?

Alastor whistled lowly from your shoulder as you gaped in disbelief at the Radio Demon in front of you.

Was he really saying that he came back in time by almost a century?!

How was any of this even possible?

“You shouldn't be this baffled, Darling.” Alastor spoke, moving from your shoulder to kiss your cheek. “I, too, would do anything to find my way back to you, even break the laws of time and space. So why wouldn't my future dead self do the same?”

Wait.

“Am I not there with you?”

The Radio Demon chuckled, his hand now affectionately caressing the side of your face. “Perhaps you missed the part about my being in Hell?” His hand slowly slid down your body to your hip, causing you to shiver. “My darling Doe, you do not reside in Hell and have no place in it.”

A sudden surge of bravery rushed through you. “Then why are you there? You're a good man, Alastor! A perfect husband! Why would you get sent to… to Hell?!”

Alastor tightened his arms around you from behind and the Radio Demon squeezed down on your hip at the question.

“The spell will only last for the night as long as the moon is full on Earth.” The Radio Demon’s smile looked tense and his fangs were gritting. “I would much prefer getting reacquainted with my lovely wife than with frivolous chatter.”

And even if he did answer, he did not intend to leave your memories of this night intact.

This was not his preferred method, but he knew his Y/N would not let the topic of either Alastor’s fate go, so there was no other choice lest he allow the night waste away.

Alastor caught the eye of his past human self and nodded, having discussed this back at the shed where they had met as a possible option should it need to be one.

It was crude and vulgar, but Alastor was desperate with the need to touch your flesh once more and if he had to kick start things with a light aphrodisiac (one not made by the Vees), he would.

Your Alastor slowly reached into his pocket, slipping out a vial of clear liquid. He carefully uncapped it while you trembled against him, repeating your question in apparent shock at the knowledge that your husband was destined for Hell.

“Ma chérie.” Your Alastor turned you to face him before he downed the contents of the vial and immediately kissed you after. He glanced up to see his demon self step up behind you, caging you in between them so you could not back away from his kiss.

You let out a strange noise, feeling Alastor's tongue swipe in your mouth as you unconsciously opened your lips for him and a sweet liquid seeped in that you had no choice but to swallow.

Oh.

You were suddenly warm.

Your body was hot.

Your nerves felt like they were on fire.

“W-w-what’s this?” You babbled, completely forgetting about Hell as you began to ache between your legs, “H-hah…”

“It’s alright, Darling.” Alastor was quick to come to your comfort, rubbing your shoulders and even that innocent touch sent sparks of pleasure straight down to your core. “Just let it happen and everything will be fine.”

“I must admit, it is not my proudest idea.” The Radio Demon seemed to sigh from behind you, his large claw-tipped hands back firmly on your hips. “Surely you understand, my little Doe, that it needed to be done. You were much too tense and I only have hours to spare.”

Your head was fuzzy and you honestly did not understand a damn word of what either Alastor was saying.

You just wanted relief and the ache to leave.

“Don't worry your pretty little head about anything right now.” Alastor cooed, “I would take care of you, but I'm sure our guest here has been waiting for so very long now.” He smirked. “I'll join in a little later.”

“I can smell you, my dear.” The Radio Demon purred, his hands moving from your hips as he ran a single claw up the side of your dress, ripping through it with ease and you could not find it in yourself to care about the ruined dress at the moment. “You're dripping. Naughty girl.”

Had you been in your right mind, you would have been completely embarrassed by such a thing, and you let out a pathetic little whine when the Radio Demon began to kneel in front of you, with his massive hands gripping your soft inner thighs.

Your underwear was ripped off a second later and you did not see the Radio Demon pocketing the arousal-soaked cloth before he turned back to you.

“Ah, it's been decades since I've eaten one in this way.” The Radio Demon hummed, releasing one thigh to slowly slide his hand up to your leaking core. He found your clit with ease, slowly rubbing circles with the pad of his thumb, extremely mindful of his claw, “Though, of course, you are the only one I have done such things with.”

You cried out at the touch, feeling like a jolt of electricity had just run through you. “P-please!” You sniffled, unsure what to call this being - Alastor or Radio Demon?

The Radio Demon grinned up at you and you were too lost in arousal to flinch back at the sight of those fangs, “Please what, my little fawn? Use your words.”

“Eat me.”

The Radio Demon groaned. “You know me too well without even seeing the entire picture.” He surged forward, abandoning your clit momentarily to part your folds before taking in a deep intoxicated breath.

You bit down on your hand, trying to keep your yelps and moans down as the Radio Demon shoved his face in your pussy, his rather long tongue fucking up into your soaked hole as his nose rubbed against your clit, sparking pleasureable warmth throughout your lower half.

“Now, now. None of that.” Alastor came up behind you, wrapping his arms around you and gently pulling your hand away from your mouth. “I– we both want to hear you.”

The Radio Demon crooned, pressing his face closer, feeling his wife tremble against him, “That's it. Cum on my tongue. I would like to get to the main course as quickly as possible.”

You shook, feeling Alastor's hands cup your breasts, pinching and rubbing your nipples as he nibbled on the lobe of your ear while the Radio Demon slurped your slick and suckled your sensitive nub.

A strangled sound left you when one of Alastor’s hands trailed down your side, sliding down your stomach before he slid a finger into your soaking cunt, bending his finger just so he would hit that spot that had you seeing stars and cumming far too early to be normal after a few more jabs to that spot.

The Radio Demon eagerly lapped up your gush of slick, not stopping even as you began to shudder from overstimulation.

“Does it feel good, chérie?” Alastor asked with a flush rising on his own face as his wife writhed in his hold while the Radio Demon did not relent in his own assault. He humped up against you, reaching down to his belt and zipper to free his aching cock.

“S'good.” You slurred, panting when you felt Alastor slide in another finger, scissoring them to stretch you. “Alastor.” You sighed, leaning against him as you reached down.

“You needn't worry about me.” Alastor inhaled sharply once you wrapped your soft hands around his length. “Darling, this is about you.”

“I want you.” You moaned, your fingers fondling the head of his cock, spreading his precum down the length of his shaft. “I-if he really is you,” it took everything out of you just to string a coherent sentence together, “I want you both.”

“You heard our darling little Doe.” The Radio Demon finally pulled away from your cunt as he eyed his past mortal self, “As much as I hunger to do so, I cannot prepare Y/N properly without the potential of injury.”

Just a glance towards those sharp claws was an answer enough.

Alastor wasted no time and pushed in a third finger, jamming them against that sweet spot of yours and you cried out, no longer able to focus on your husband’s pleasure, though he did not mind at all.

“What a face you’re making, Darling,” he murmured into your ear, “Not a single thought in your head, is there? Are you drooling on yourself?” His eyes darkened as his sadistic side began to show and, finally, he was able to slide in a fourth finger, “Do you know how fucked out you look right now? If that wasn’t me in front of you, I would have had to kill him for seeing you like this.”

It was fine, saying such things as you were not coherent enough to even understand him right now and the Radio Demon would take your memories of this night away anyway.

“Four fingers? My my, how debauched you are, my sweet Doe.” The Radio Demon was at your other ear, whispering just as filthy things as Alastor was, “You can take it, can’t you? You are my– our wife, after all. All you need to do is let go and cum on your husband’s fingers and then you can have all the cock you want, for the rest of the night.” He reached down, finding your clit and only needing to stroke the bud twice before you reached your high.

Your mouth could not even form words as your wet slick pussy contracted rhythmically around Alastor’s fingers, trying to milk them as you blacked out for the briefest of moments. Your limbs were like jelly and the only reason you did not collapse was because Alastor had propped you against his body.

“Still in there, my love?” Alastor patted your sweaty face, smiling when your glazed eyes fluttered open and you whimpered when he slowly pulled his fingers from your sopping hole, “You’ve done wonderfully thus far.”

“I–” It took so much just to think, “I want to–to…” Why couldn’t you think of the words to say? Your body was still burning even after cumming twice and that felt a bit frightening to you.

“As I said, you don’t need to worry about me. I have you to myself every night.” Alastor repeated, glancing over your head, allowing a lazy smirk to appear on his face, “But if you really want to repay the favour, I’m sure our guest would be delighted.” He just shrugged when the Radio Demon narrowed his red eyes at him.

You turned your head and peered timidly at the Radio Demon. The static in the air seemed to grow louder the longer you stared and his smile only seemed to stretch even wider.

“I'll even help you.” Alastor wrapped an arm around your waist and slung your arm around his shoulders, making sure you were steady, even as your legs shook like a newborn fawn’s as he guided you to stand in front of the Radio Demon.“Here you are.” He was quick to remove his overcoat, placing it on the floor for the comfort of his dear wife’s knees.

“This is unnecessary.” The Radio Demon stated, though the changes to his body said differently – his sclera turning pitch black, his antlers quickly extending outwards. He had to forcibly stop his body from growing larger, knowing his wife's human body would not be able to take anymore than what he was now.

“Please.” You kneeled in front of the Radio Demon, still a bit wary of him, but the aphrodisiac still running through you won over anything else, “You… you're still my Alastor, right?” Your hands shook as you attempted to loosen the belt of the Radio Demon.

“Yes, in life and in death. I am always yours.” The Radio Demon's usual filtered tone disappeared for a moment as he ripped off his belt with ease and he pulled his pants down low enough that his cock could spring free.

You leaned into him, feeling his hands run through your hair in a gentle gesture before they were gone from your head. You straightened on your knees, reaching up and feeling yourself jump a little in shock the moment you realized you couldn't fully wrap your hand around the Radio Demon's cock.

Was everything that much bigger when one was sent to Hell?

“Think nothing of it, my little Doe.” The Radio Demon cooed down at you, “I am completely content if you only wish to suck on my cock - the part that fits in your sweet little mouth, that is. I will not fuck your throat.”

The dull ache between your legs seemed to roar back to life at his words and you moved forward, opening your mouth, feeling the Radio Demon step a little closer until the head of his cock was resting on your tongue.

Your lips closed around his glans, your tongue prodded at the slit and you heard the Radio Demon growl as the static grew louder. Your head moved forward, wondering how much you could fit in your mouth before you started gagging.

“No, no.” Large hands on each side of your head stopped you from going further, “Do not test my self control, my dear. I said you may only suck. You are much too fragile for me to fuck that delicate throat of yours.”

You look up at the Radio Demon, barely noticing in your lustful haze that his pupils have shifted into a shape that resembled radio dials as you tightened your lips around the impressive cock in your mouth and sucked hard.

It was utterly obscene and Alastor watched with fascination as large amounts of saliva seeped from the crevices from your lips to drool down all over the Radio Demon's shaft, your jaw and chin, only to land on your chest in sticky globs. The static from the Radio Demon could not drown out the sloppy wet slurps of your tongue.

“That's it. Thaaaat's it.” The Radio Demon purred, “Such a lovely wife I have, so willing to suck the cock of her demon husband. Even wanting me to fuck my cock down her throat. How filthy! Are you truly that desperate for my seed? Suck harder, my dear.”

You tried, tightening your lips, hollowing your cheeks and sucking as best as you could until your jaw ached. You wanted to bob your head to make it a little easier, but the Radio Demon’s hands made it impossible to move. You began to hum, hoping the vibrations would aid you in getting him off.

“My sweet fawn. So depraved, just for me. Salivating all over yourself like a dog to please me.” One of his hands moved down to stroke at your cheek. “You are doing exceptionally well, such a good girl for me. Keep your mouth open.”

Your face burned at the Radio Demon’s words as you gasped for air when he pulled back from you, though you kept your mouth slack as he asked and found yourself shuddering when thick loads of cum landed on your tongue and didn’t seem to stop.

The Radio Demon watched with greedy eyes as you struggled with the volume of his seed, having to swallow a few times over and even then, remnants dripped off your lips towards your chest, “I should punish you for wasting a part of me that no other will ever have, my dear, but there is no time for that this night.” His grin widened, “Perhaps, should the spell work on the next full moon…” He tucked himself back into his pants, though didn't bother zipping them back up.

“I admit I never thought I would witness such a sight.” Alastor stepped forward from his position of observation, kneeling down as he reached for his handkerchief from his pocket and began to gently wipe your face from the cum and drool. “I certainly was not opposed to it.” He said quickly to reassure you when your eyes seemed to widen.

The Radio Demon did mention that the aphrodisiac would wear off once you took semen in your body. How fast it would diminish depended on how much semen you took in, in a certain amount of time.

“While I’m sure our guest appreciated the appetizers, I’m sure he is starved for the main course.” Alastor uncaringly tossed the dirtied handkerchief to the floor, helping you stand. “We would be such rude hosts to make him wait any longer.”

“I– of course.” You replied, looking towards the Radio Demon with a little less hesitancy than before, “You know where our… our bedroom is?” You asked almost shyly.

“I remember every single detail of this house as if I lived in it just yesterday,” The Radio Demon’s smile softened for a split second before it sharpened once more and he offered you his hand, “Shall we, then? You may want to close your eyes for this.”

You took it reluctantly, unsure what he meant by that last statement. You felt Alastor rub your back as he nestled you up to his side and you let out a shocked gasp as you all seemed to sink down in the floor into a void of black before emerging only a moment later right in front of your bed, “W-what was that!?” Your nerves weren’t burning as hot as they were earlier, but that strange sensation certainly was not helping your dizzied mind.

“Fascinating.” Alastor simply said under his breath.

“Instant shadow travel.” The Radio Demon answered nonchalantly, “It really is nothing to be impressed by.” He turned back to you, not wanting you to get distracted now that your mind was a bit clearer, “Darling Y/N, why don’t I show you how much I truly missed you over the decades?”

Your eyes unconsciously teared up at that.

The Radio Demon stalked forward, forcing you backward until your back hit the mattress. He took in the lovely sight of his wife spread on what used to be his bed before he was caging you in with his much larger body, “Every single night, whether or not I sleep, I think of you, dream of you. How exasperating that I still pine for you even after all these years, but I suppose you were the only one I felt any affection for – l̵̨͔̗̩̯̮͔̜̋̎́̃̐ͩ̓ͦo̿͂v̸̷̳̬̭̝͔͍͙͈̇̌̈́͟e̞̰̩̋̂̚͝ even – after Mother died.”

He could confess this much, as you would not remember this when it was time for him to leave.

“So you really are me.” Alastor murmured from the side of the bed, slowly undoing his tie, “That’s right. Y/N was there from the start – what do the masses call it, childhood lovers or such nonsense? It was only Y/N. None other would do.” He almost scoffed at his next thought. “Maybe soulmates do exist after all.”

“If you really are Alastor,” your arms rose and you placed your hands on both sides of his face and his entire expression softened and his smile wobbled, “then I'm so sorry that I'm causing you any pain.” A tear slid down your face from your already watery eyes. “I'm sure there are many…uhh, demons who are interes–” A claw-tipped finger pressed against your lips, cutting you off from what you were about to say.

“Even parted, what remains of my cold dead heart still beats for you, my lovely wife. I will never stray.” The Radio Demon leaned down to lick the tear from your cheek, causing you to shudder.

“Even if we wanted to fool around,” Alastor was now unbuttoning his shirt, taking his time to undress, “which, Darling, I can assure you, we do not, our bodies are simply not interested in any other. Woman, man – it doesn't matter how attractive they may be, if it's not you, I cannot get aroused. I'm sure it's the same for our guest.”

You felt your face flush and wanted to hide from the embarrassingly sweet words, but you were trapped under the Radio Demon, who was staring down intently at your reaction.

“You know I love you, Alastor! I have since we were children!” You tried to cover your face, but the Radio Demon grasped your wrists before you could.

He settled more on top of you, aligning your lower bits as he ground his clothed erection against your slick sensitive skin. “Say it again.” He groaned, “Say it.”

The static was almost deafening now.

“Best do what he asks, Darling.” Alastor was now removing his pants, having moved to the top of the bed so he could observe his wife's expression. “I'll never tire of hearing it either.”

“I love you, Alastor. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you!” Your face was burning red as the Radio Demon reached down to fish his cock free from his unzipped pants, “Not even death can do us part!”

That had been the one line you and Alastor had changed at your wedding, but…

“You don't belong in Hell, my sweet fawn.” The Radio Demon grasped your hip and gripped the base of his cock, your legs spreading as he rubbed his shaft through your creamy folds, causing you to shiver and moan, “While I may crave your presence every day, I prefer to know that you are safe where you belong.”

Your head tossed to the side as the Radio Demon slowly began to penetrate you and your eyes opened in surprise when you felt lips pressing against yours. “Alastor?” You panted, feeling your silky walls being stretched more than they ever have before. He was bigger than anything you had ever taken before.

“You will adjust in a few moments, ma cher. It won't hurt or feel uncomfortable for much longer.” Alastor stated, staring at the scene in front of him and feeling a heat settle deep under his stomach.

He wanted to join, but he did not want to push his dear wife any further than you were comfortable with. Plus, you and he had never ventured to that area before either.

The Radio Demon’s eyes glanced up at Alastor for a brief moment before setting down back onto you as he finally slid in all the way to the hilt, “Fuck, I haven't even moved yet and you're already clenching down on me so tightly.”

“S'big!” You almost felt like you were being split in two and you whined when the Radio Demon slowly withdrew, caressing every sensitive spot before he swiftly thrust back in, “HAH!” You were seeing stars as he found a rhythm, “S'good!”

Alastor watched with slight envy, but it quickly changed to confusion when the Radio Demon gave him some sort of look before focusing back on you.

Was he supposed to know what that meant?

It was only a few seconds later that a long black tentacle-like appendage snapped out of the Radio Demon's back and Alastor found himself surprised for the nth time that night, even by this point, he shouldn't be.

It seemed that you were already too fucked out again to notice the extra appendage as the Radio Demon flipped you over to your stomach, positioning you on all fours as he maneuvered over top of you, pressing his chest to your back as his hips thrust blindly, seeking your warm wet hole.

He used the lone tentacle (that you still have yet to notice, but you would very shortly) to wrap around his length, guiding it back to your slick cunt. He growled, loud static popping in the air, drool dripping off his fangs as he humped you like the deer he resembled.

You are so lost in pleasure, gasping and wheezing, that it takes a few moments for you to realize that there's something prodding you back there, “W-wha?” You swallow thickly, feeling something cool circle and lightly push at your other hole, causing you to flinch, “W-what is that? Alastor?” You whimper.

It took a second for the Radio Demon to come to his senses, especially when you were squeezing down so tightly on his cock. “My little Doe, it must be done if you wish to take both of us. Surely you want that. It's not often one can fuck two forms of their spouse at the same time.” The tentacle began to breach the rim of your second hole and you let out pained noise.

Alastor moved on the bed, stroking your hair and kissing your temple, “I know, Darling, I know.” He reached underneath you when the Radio Demon resumed his crude humping, finding your clit with a bit of difficulty due to the constant rocking. “If you truly do need to stop, say ‘jambalaya’ and we will.”

This was for Alastor and a few minutes of total discomfort should not stop you.

“How's it feel?” Alastor asked, curious as he had never touched that area before.

“H-hah,” you felt sweat drip down your face, trying to answer your husband’s question, but the sensations of the Radio Demon's cock hitting every sensitive spot in your sloppy cunt, Alastor’s fingers strumming along your puffy clit, and the slippery tentacle now an inch or two in, squirming against the walls of your ass?

You crumbled.

“Fuck!” The Radio Demon snarled, halting his movements as he felt you cumming hard around him. His ears twitched at the sound of your wailing and he summoned another tentacle out of his back, using it to hold your shaking body up against his as he clenched his hands in the sheets below, claws easily ripping through the material.

As he completely avoided any sexual activity during his time in Hell, the Radio Demon found he was a lot more sensitive than he recalled and simply having you suck him for a few moments and cumming once on his cock was enough for him to lose it.

It took all of his self control to not finish so early as he focused on his tentacles and stretching your other hole slowly but surely.

Alastor watched with exhilaration that he only experienced when he was pounding you into the bed, or watching the life fade out of the eyes out of some degenerate after hunting them down, and after your keening quieted down, he found himself surprised that he was stroking himself, something he never partook in.

“Do you think you are able to take me, my love?” Alastor asked after a moment of allowing you to catch your breath, though you still looked a little out of it, still caged under the Radio Demon’s much larger body – looking helpless, small, and stuffed full of cock.

He needed to stuff you with more.

“I… I think? Maybe?” You lifted your head to look at Alastor, watching him smile at you and you bit your lip when you felt that strange appendage slowly pull out of your ass and you grimaced at the sudden feeling of emptiness?

The Radio Demon squeezed your hips and also pulled out of you, sitting you on the bed as he snapped his fingers and you jumped, feeling your body tingle for a second before it disappeared and you felt strangely lighter, “W-what was that?” You asked as he snapped his fingers again and a small bottle appeared in his hand out of nowhere

“I cleansed you,” The Radio Demon simply stated, not wanting to get into the finer details of anal sex and embarrass you, “You will need this, my dear. Use as much as you need.” He handed his past self the bottle and eyed him expectantly.

“Extra lubrication.” Alastor said, snapping the lid open and squeezing it out on his fingers, rubbing them together experimentally, “It’s needed so I don’t, well… tear anything.” He grasped your hand, unfolding it. “Aid me, won’t you, Darling?” His voice grew a little sultry as he squeezed the lube out on your hand.

You flushed, reaching down as your hand wrapped around Alastor’s cock, trying to spread the lube evenly as you jerked his shaft, causing him to sigh with contentment, feeling your hand glide smoothly, “I believe that’s enough. Your turn. Turn around for me and either lie down on your stomach or get on all fours – whichever is more comfortable for you.”

You say Alastor’s eyes flash and knew what position he would prefer, but despite your embarrassment, you got on all fours like you knew he wanted and you spread your legs as much as you could.

“Bear with it.” Alastor felt his heart race as your head lowered when he squeezed the lube out and you shivered when you felt his slick fingers begin to prod at your ass, passing the tight rim after a few nudging of his fingers.

It still felt strange, but Alastor tried to make up for it with slow firm thrusts and filthy words.

“Darling, I know you will feel so good squeezed around me. I never imagined you would be so receptive to the idea. I can’t wait to see what sort of face you will make this time for me. Taking both of our cocks at once, perhaps you will cum so hard, you will soak the sheets? Forget your own name?”

You whined, feeling your face flame.

“I have done what I can to prepare you.” Alastor removed his fingers from your back hole, “Now go over to our guest. I believe you will have to ride him in order for this to work.”

The Radio Demon's smile seemed to twitch at Alastor's remark, but he did lean back and prop himself against the pillows so you were able to straddle him – which you only did so after a pause from you and a nod from him.

“Not yet, my dear, though I appreciate the enthusiasm.” The Radio Demon chuckled, stopping you from gripping him and just sliding down his cock, “It's best for my past self to go first.”

Alastor moved over to you, stroking your back in a soothing manner, “Remember what to say if you want to stop.” He said with a slight frown and it lifted when you repeated ‘jambalaya’ back to him, “I'll go slow.” He gripped himself, watching as the Radio Demon oh-so kindly spread you (and you letting out a cute squeak) and he lowered himself until he felt skin on skin.

You tensed, trying best to calm down when felt the head of his cock prod at your ass, just resting there until you relaxed enough that he could press forward. “Haahhmmm.” Strange noises escaped you as Alastor slowly proceeded, stopped, rocked back and forth a few times, before repeating.

“My little Doe, breathe.” The Radio Demon trailed his hands down your sides, moving towards your dripping core to find your aching clit to help alleviate any discomfort with pleasure, “It won't be long now, my dear. You will be, as an effeminate fellow acquaintance of mine likes to say, ‘cockdrunk’ soon enough.”

You groaned, not only from the Radio Demon's words, but from feeling full. Yet you felt empty at the same time as your pussy clenched nothing but air.

Arms wrapped around you from behind as Alastor buried his head in your shoulder, breathing hard while sweat dripped off his face. “Shit.”

You were so fucking tight – to the point he ridiculously feared you might squeeze his cock right off.

“Prepare yourself.” The Radio Demon purred, lining his length up with your dripping cunt, “Or perhaps you needn't to. There won't be a single thought in that pretty little head of yours.” And with that, he thrust in carefully, knowing he and his past self had to find a rhythm that would not cause their wife any pain.

“A-Al–” You mewled, feeling tears forming in the corners of your eyes, “A-Ala–” You couldn't even talk straight anymore.

Alastor grit his teeth, thrusting in when the Radio Demon pulled back. His wife was tight, hot, and he could feel the Radio Demon through the thin membrane.

He wasn't going to last long.

“Such a perverse wife I have! Tell me, how does fucking two cocks at once feel?” The Radio Demon's smile turned sadistic, seeing that you couldn't even comprehend his question and his hand came up to wipe the drool seeping from your mouth and watched with satisfaction as your eyes rolled to the back of your head when he began circling your clit, “Are you going to cum, my dear? Should I allow it?”

You babbled nonsense, not hearing a word anyone was saying as you were sandwiched between your present husband and his future demon self and only able to focus on the molten heat in your core.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

Both were big (though the Radio Demon was bigger in that department), so with every thrust, they hit every spot that brought stars to your closed eyes.

Someone was rubbing circles on your slick clit and the other was fondling your breasts. Teeth nibbled at the lobe of your ear and sharp fangs and a long tongue were dragging along your skin dangerously close towards your throat.

It was the hand that pressed down hard on your pelvis that had you come undone.

Were you screaming? You didn't know as the world blurred and you could feel nothing but ecstasy shoot through every part of your trembling body and the afterpangs were just as pleasant to feel as you slumped down, barely even conscious after the many orgasms you had experienced that night.

“Fuck!” The Radio Demon knew he would not be able to stave off this as your vevelty walls clamped down on his cock and he looked down in shock, unconsciously licking his lips when he noticed you were squirting all over him.

This sight alone had him shooting spurt after spurt of ejaculate into your gushing pussy.

Alastor simply observed all this happen, having pulled halfway out of your ass so he could wrap his hand around the base of his cock to delay his orgasm, though he no longer needed to.

He released his hand, thrusting forward as deep he could go in your ass. He was already on the edge, waiting to tip over and just the tightness of your anal walls squeezing him was enough to send him over, shooting his load of cum into you with a satisfied groan.

Both you and Alastor collapsed on the bed as the Radio Demon shifted so there was more room, though after a brief moment of silence other than heavy breathing, both males looked towards you as they grudgingly pulled out of you, eyeing the leaking mess they made of you with fervor.

You only had so much stamina however.

And–

“You did so well, my love.” Alastor brushed your hair from your face, kissing your temple when you attempted to focus your glazed eyes towards him, “Only you could satisfy us so.” He lightly pinched your cheek to keep you awake when they began fluttering.

A glass of water appeared in the Radio Demon’s hand as he sat up, propping your back up against his chest as he brought the glass up to your lips and tilted your head up, “Don’t drink it too fast, my dear.” He instructed, appeased when you slowly swallowed the water down and he vanished the glass, relishing the feel of your skin against his.

It was time for him to leave.

“My sweet wife, it took me decades to find the spell so I could see you again,” the Radio Demon stated and he felt you stiffen against him, “I am uncertain if it will work again or if this was a one time occurrence, but know that this night was to my utmost delight. I must say, simply seeing your lovely face satisfied me as much as–m̨̻̪̣̹̙̰̦͇̏͒̅͒ͪ͝ơ̧̛̛̗͍̝̣̜̺͉̜̜̩̥̈́̋ͫ̌̽͐̅̔̍̋́́̏̇ͧ̀͘͘̚͜͜͢͝ŕ̛̝̺̖̬̰ͫͨ̆͌͛̾ͭ̈̾̉̌ͯ͞e̸̙͕̯̻̘͈̋ͩ̑ͦ́͟ ţ̶̟̯̻̘͍͓̯̈̂h̿ͮ͘a̶̸̲̣͖̻̦̜ͯ̉͌ͣ͂̈́͞n͙̳̍ͫ–the screams of the souls I rip apart on my broadcasts all over Hell!”

What?

“You’re leaving?” The Radio Demon’s words snapped you to attention in more than one way, but you put those rather disturbing words aside for that moment to focus on his departure.

Your mind was clear and your body was no longer burning and you should be honestly terrified that there was a demon from Hell wrapped around you now that you could think straight, but he was still your husband.

He was still Alastor.

“Regretfully so.” The Radio Demon gently removed you from himself, standing from the bed as you stared at him with those wide eyes of yours. He snapped his fingers, fixing his appearance to his usual pristine condition and dressing you and Alastor with a second snap, causing you and his past self to jump in shock to his amusement.

“But…” You bit your lip, feeling it wobble as you looked between the Radio Demon and Alastor, “Why… why are you in Hell? You never told me.” Your voice started to crack.

Alastor clenched his fists and looked away from you and the Radio Demon’s static grew louder at the question, “I am certain you will find out the reason why in the future.” After all, he did leave you a widow after his unexpected and pathetic death and it most certainly got out how he brutally murdered and engaged in occasional cannibalism – he just had no idea how you felt about him after that all came to be.

Did you still love him afterwards as you lived the rest of your mortal life?

Did you still love him in Heaven as an angel?

“I told you, Alastor,” you seemed to notice the tone in the Radio Demon’s filtered voice, “I love you, since we were children. Not even death can do us part.”

Alastor inhaled sharply and the Radio Demon eyed him for a second before turning back to you, “If this spell does not work for the next full moon on Earth, I must bid you adieu.” He moved forward, bending down to press a kiss against your forehead.

There was a flash of green light and you fell forward, unconscious and memories of the night gone.

The Radio Demon caught you, stroking your side before placing you on the bed and turned to his past self, his smile tightening.

“Well, what an interesting night this has been!” Alastor tilted his head, appearing thoughtful, “I admit I never believed in Heaven or Hell, but clearly I was wrong about that. Good to know that Mother is where she belongs and that I will kill that wretch of a man all over again.”

“His screams of agony were most entertaining. Why, I could listen to them over and over again and never tire of them!” The Radio Demon let out a puff of amusement, fondly remembering torturing the man whom he once had to call ‘father’.

“I suppose if that spell of yours works again, you’ll be a familiar face here every full moon?” Alastor asked casually, “I’m not opposed.”

The Radio Demon held out his hand, much to Alastor’s surprise, “Yes, I would. Just a friendly shake, no deal here. I don’t think I can take my own soul.”

Alastor took the Radio Demon’s hand after a moment of hesitation, shaking it firmly before his eyes widened as the same green light flashed and, he too, fell forward, unconscious with his memories of the night gone.

“I can’t have you dragging our lovely wife into your depraved acts now. I saw how Y/N’s words affected you.” The Radio Demon placed his past self on the bed beside you, staring at the couple, “Our darling Doe doesn’t belong in Hell. I would like to keep it that way.”

He vanished with the moonlight.

#alastor x reader #alastor smut #hazbin hotel x reader #radio demon x reader #human alastor x reader #x reader

917 notes · View notes

kaleldobrev · 1 month

Text

Adventures in Babysitting

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Supe!Reader; Past William Butcher x F. Supe!Reader

Feat. Character(s): Reader, William Butcher, Soldier Boy/Ben & Hughie Campbell

Summary: The last thing you wanted was to babysit Soldier Boy — but here you are.

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: Cursing (23x), Offensive/Derogatory Language, Smut (P in V, Fingering, Unprotected Sex), Supe Shaming & Implied Drug Use

Authors Note: Even though I’m used to writing smut, I’m a little rusty, so apologies if this is not up to snuff with the other times I have written smut | I’ve been on such a Ben kick lately, hope y’all don’t mind! | MDNI — 18+ ONLY PLEASE | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

"Why am I the one that has to fucking babysit him?" You whispered yelled at Butcher, not trying to be remotely quiet in the process.

Butcher looked at you, and let out a small chuckle. "Cause Princess, you're the only one of us that, that Radioactive Cunt actually listens to. 'Sides, you're one of his kind."

You huffed. Like I had a fucking choice in the matter, you thought. "But you and Hughie are already going to be taking Temp V to go on your little suicide mission," you said, now raising your arms out of pure frustration. Your reaction and comment lead Butcher to just simply laugh.

"We ain't wastin' Temp V looking after him when you already got some in ya," he winked, giving your shoulder a little bump. "Sides, don't think your power is gonna be real useful for this."

It was now your turn to raise a brow and chuckle. "You don't think that my power of life draining people to the point of death isn't useful in this situation?"

"When I have laser eyes and Hughie can teleport? No. Our powers aren't hands on unlike yours," Butcher said.

"Now your power shaming me?" You scoffed, crossing your arms. "That's low Butch, especially after all the fucking times I've saved your British ass."

"Be mad at me all you want Princess, you're staying here," Butcher said, as he picked up his duffel bag. "I'll make it up to ya," he winked, and all you did was give him a disgusted look. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do," he said, his tone a little bit more cheerful than it had been previously.

As Butcher walked out the door, you huffed. "Un-fucking-believable," you mumbled. You walked over to the couch and sat down, still keeping your arms folded as you slumped down and stared at the floor, slightly grinding your teeth.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Ben asked, strolling into the room from the bathroom.

You glared at him, still with the look of death. "You. You're my fucking problem," your words coming off a lot harsher than you had intended them to sound. But you were pissed, and maybe a little bit jealous. Before Hughie came along, it was always the Y/N and Butcher Show, but now, it was the Hughie and Butcher Show. You felt slightly betrayed and felt like you had lost your best friend.

Ben looked at you with a confused look, his eye brows furrowed. "What the fuck did I do? I was in the fucking bathroom."

"You exist, that's why," you huffed, still with your arms crossed, barely looking at him as you answered.

"What's up with this fucking hot and cold shit uh? When I first met you, you were ready to hop on my cock, no questions asked, and now you wish I didn't exist?" Ben's reaction was one that you weren't expecting from him. You were expecting him to have some kind of sassy remark like 'Fuck you,' or 'Same here,' but not this time. This time, he almost seemed genuinely hurt that you told him that, even if you didn't really mean it.

In reality, you genuinely did like Ben; and really didn't have an actual problem with him. The only problem that you did have with him, was that he was too similar to you, and that honestly scared you sometimes.

"I'm just pissed okay?" You answered, your tone a little bit calmer now. You uncrossed your arms and let out a giant sigh.

Ben walked over to you, and sat next to you. "Do you...I can't believe I'm asking but...Do you want to...talk...about...it?" His words sounding almost as if he actually cared about what you had to say.

"No," your voice short. "I rather do something else," you continued. You finally looked him in the eyes now, and he looked at you with the same kind of confused look he had looked at you previously with.

"Yeah?" He asked, as you placed your hand on his thigh. He looked down at your hand, and then looked back up at you. "Don't start something you won't finish Sweetheart," he asked.

You didn't say anything but kept eye contact with him as you got up from the couch. "Where you goin' Sweetheart?" He asked, watching your every movement. But you remained silent; the only reaction you had was your facial expression. The death glare you had previously, was now replaced with that of slight lust.

As you stared at him, your fingers went on either side of your hips and went in the inside of your shorts. You started to slowly shimmy them down, maintaining eye contact with him as you did so. "Fucking tease," he mumbled. His comment caused you to smirk.

Once your shorts and underwear were completely off, they fell into a puddle at your feet, and you stepped out of them. You walked back to Ben and sat on his lap; your knees on either side of his legs as you wrapped your arms around his neck. Without hesitation, his hands found your back and went inside of your shirt where they stopped mid-back. "No bra?" He smirked.

"I think they're rather inconvenient don't you think?" You asked in a whisper.

"I think so," he agreed. "You know what else is?"

"What?" You asked.

"This." In one swift movement, he lifted your shirt over your head and tossed it into the floor half-way across the room, leaving you completely naked on top of you — a sight that he's been dreaming about since the second he laid his eyes on you.

Once your shirt was off, you cupped his cheeks and pulled him in close to you, crashing your lips against his. You didn't mean to be so gentle with him, as you knew he could handle rough, but there was just something about him, about this situation that had wanted you to take things weirdly slow with him, instead of the usual rushed sex you were so used to having with Butcher.

Your body rocked against him, and his hands were squeezing your sides to the point that you could feel a slight amount of pain — the good kind of pain, and you let out a tiny moan. His lips moved to your neck, and you shut your eyes, loving the way his lips and tongue felt against your skin.

He nipped every so often on your skin, intending to leave bruises; but it would be a little hard to, given that you were also a Supe, but he was going to try nonetheless.

"Ben," you moaned, when he finally reached the space in-between your breasts. You felt him smirk against your skin. As if it were second nature, your hands found the back of his head, and you started almost massaging his scalp, twisting his hair between your fingers.

His hands moved from behind your back, and you missed the feeling of that warmness against you. But you were more than happy with where they were currently going. Without looking down, and keeping his mouth on yours, a few of his fingertips brushed up against your clit, and your breath hitched. He was barely touching you, and yet, you felt yourself starting to form into a puddle.

Ben couldn't help but widen his smirk as he touched you. He loved how wet you were for him, and he had barely touched you. "You like Sweetheart?" He asked against your lips, as he slowly started to slip one of his fingers slowly inside of you. It was his turn to tease you now.

Your breath hitched again, and he knew he had you. He slipped another finger inside of you, and he pumped his two fingers slowly in and out of you, knowing that this felt like torture for you. It might of felt like torture for you, but he wanted to enjoy this, because he didn't know if he would ever have this chance again.

You were hot and cold with him. One minute you were flirting with him, and the next you were calling him an asshole. But in either scenario, he couldn't help but imagine what you sounded like moaning his name, or how you would look as he fucked you.

"So fucking wet for me," he mumbled against your jaw. His fingers not picking up the pace in the slightest. You loved and hated what he was doing.

"Only for you," you whispered; your voice sounding blissful. "Ben...please..." you begged.

"Please what?" He asked, nipping at your neck.

"Make me come," you said, still in that same blissful tone.

"Mm, with pleasure," he replied. Without a second thought, his two fingers started to pump in and out of you a bit faster than they had been previously. As he pumped his fingers in and out of you, you rocked against them, trying to add more pressure and trying to get that quick release that you had been longing for.

Within seconds, you found yourself coming against his fingers. Letting out a moan, it became muffled as his lips found yours again. You moaned into his mouth; and you could his cock started to getting harder, which caused you to start smirking against his lips now.

Once you rid out your orgasm, he removed his fingers from you, and stuck them into his mouth; smirking as he did so. "I'll never get tired of that," he said.

You were on your back now, your left leg over Ben's shoulder, and the tip of his cock lining up to your entrance. If you were being honest with yourself, you were slightly nervous, but you were also excited about the feeling. "You ready for me Sweetheart?" he grinned, and you nodded.

Without anymore hesitation, he started to press the tip of his cock inside of you. You were slightly surprised at how gentle and slow he was being, as it was something that you weren't expecting from someone like him.

The farther he pressed his cock inside of you, the fuller you started to feel; a feeling that you couldn't help but moan to. "Fuck," you breathed out.

"I've heard a lot of women moaning in my life, but yours...fuck, it's like music to my ears," he smirked. "The sweetest I've ever heard." His weird compliment oddly made you feel good.

Once he was fully inside of you, the look on his face was that of pure delight, and you couldn't help but slightly chuckle. "Is it everything you hoped for?" You slightly joked.

"Better," he grinned.

He started out slow and gentle like he had been, almost as if he was cherishing the feeling. There was a part of you that was enjoying it, as you weren't used to a slow and gentle kind of sex; but the other part of you wanted him to speed up, as you knew the both of you would be able to handle the slight roughness.

The sounds of soft moans and grunts filled the room, but every so often they were muffled when you or Ben kissed the other. "You have no fucking clue how long I've wanted to fuck you," he whispered against your lips.

"I think I have an idea," you whispered back. Probably just as long, or longer than I have, you wanted to say.

"You feel so fucking good Sweetheart," he whispered again. He started kissing down your jaw again, and stopped at your neck, nipping at the skin once more. Still no marks, he thought. Disappointing.

As he continued to move in and out of you, you started to feel the slight pressure building and building, and you knew you were close. You were excited for the release, but didn't want the closeness that you were currently feeling with Ben to end. "I'm so close," you said, your words slightly breathy sounding.

"Already?" He grinned. Good, he thought. With a few more quick pumps, you found yourself coming around his cock; pure bliss and pleasure leaving your body. You moaned loudly as you came, and you didn't have to open your eyes to look at Ben to know how much he was enjoying seeing you like this.

As you came down from your high, the short breather that you had was simply that — short, as Ben started coming inside of you, which only reignited your high.

Ben pulled himself out of you, and you removed your slightly limp leg from his shoulder. “Come here,” he said, and you furrowed your brow in confused. “I said come here,” he repeated, with outstretched arms.

Before you could move, he rolled his eyes and brought you to himself, not liking the slowness that you were currently doing. When he pulled you close to him, he brought you into his lap and wrapped his arms around you; your head tucked underneath his chin. “Would have never pegged you as a cuddler,” you teased.

“I spent almost forty fucking years without skin to skin contact, humor me,” he said.

He was touch starved, you thought, and you swore that your heart broke just a little bit.

Half A Day Later…

You and Ben were on the couch together, your legs in his lap while his hands were on your bare thighs; his fingertips mindlessly tracing circles on them. There was an almost empty bottle of Jack between you that you had been sharing, along with a joint. The scene looked both romantic and casual — it felt nice.

"You know, I never messed up any of my lines in this movie," Ben noted, pointing at the screen with the bottle of Jack. "Unlike fucking Gunpowder," he mumbled, sounding slightly annoyed.

"He was like what fourteen and it was his first movie? Is that supposed to impress me?" You asked, raising a brow.

"Well ye—" but his sentence was cut off when the motel door abruptly swung open.

"Evening Cunts," Butcher said, his face and clothes splattered in blood.

"How'd the mission go? I see neither one of you are dead," you said, once Hughie entered the room, he too was covered in blood.

"We won," Butcher grinned, tossing his duffel bag onto the floor which sounded a lot heavier than it had been previously when he left much earlier in the day.

"How'd it go here?" Hughie asked. "I'm sorry we didn't bring you," his statement sounding genuine.

"No worries," you replied, trying your best to keep the slight jealousy that you had from showing. "It went fine here."

"I'd say more than fine," Butcher said, his tone slightly teasing and a little jealous sounding in nature as he pointed at your neck.

Your eye brows furrowed, and you lifted up your phone, turning the camera toward you. "Son of a Bitch," you mumbled, as you saw a few purpleish bruises on your neck. Hickeys, great, you thought.

Ben turned toward you now, turning your head to face him so he could admire his handiwork that he worked so hard on. "Well look at that," he grinned, slightly impressed with himself. "Ever make those kind of marks on her?" He asked, smirking in Butcher's direction.

#soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x you #the boys imagine #the boys imagines #the boys one shot #the boys #the boys oneshot #ben x you #ben x reader #reader insert #female reader #the boys amazon #supe!reader

486 notes · View notes

gurugirl · 3 months

Text

The Handyman | a check-in*

Summary: You and Harry throw a housewarming party and your ex shows up with some advice for whoever built the kitchen counter. Harry makes sure to prove to you how well-built his countertops really are.

A/N: Based on this idea! Previously posted on Patreon. Read the original one shot here.

Word Count: 3,613

Warning: smut, the tiniest touch of jealousy/possessiveness

❊❊❊

You hadn’t intended for your little housewarming party to turn into a whole thing. Harry said he’d help you invite people from town, a way to make more friends and get to know some of the locals a bit better. But then when your dad told your cousin that you were throwing a small party she let it slip to someone from your past. Van, your ex. She apologized, saying she didn’t think he’d be interested until he asked for more details. But you weren’t going to be rude and uninvite anyone because the house was big enough for everyone. And you did say “open invitation” after all.

“Y/n, it’s so nice to see you again,” Van pulled you in for a hug when he arrived. You put on your nicest smile and attempted to act happy to see him. And it wasn’t that you disliked the guy but the awkwardness of dealing with an ex you hadn’t seen in a while was a bit daunting.

“Oh my gosh. You too! I’m surprised to see you here. All the way out in the middle of nowhere!” It truly was a surprise. It was an hour’s drive from the city to get to your house. And even though your cousin told you she told him and he seemed interested, you half expected he wouldn’t show up.

You made small talk with him before excusing yourself to go to the kitchen except he followed you.

“This house really does look nice, Y/n. Did you have help with all this?”

“Thank you. And yes. I had someone help with everything. Harry’s been so amazing. Listened to what I wanted but he already had his own ideas which I loved so much. Kept almost everything original.”

Van ran his palm along the butcher block island and ducked down to check the construction of the cabinets beneath, “Who’s Harry?”

“Harry owns a small company doing all kinds of work for people in town. He helped me restore the whole place and landscape. I mean, he basically did all the work but… yeah. He’s also my boyfriend.”

Van raised a brow at you, “Boyfriend huh?”

“Yep. Boyfriend. He’s actually here somewhere.”

He nodded as he inspected the window over the sink, “Not sure if you remember or not but I became an architect. Wish you’d have called me. I could have really done this place justice. Sort of feels like some of this could have been upgraded.”

“Oh? Like what?”

You caught Harry’s eye when he stood at the entry between the kitchen and the dining room as he spoke to a few people he knew.

“Well this window for example,” Van pointed, “I would have pushed this whole wall out, made a breakfast nook over the patio since there’s so much space at the front. Could have put in built-in bench seating and it would have given you so much more light in the kitchen and increased the value of the property.”

“I mean that sounds really nice but I wanted it to be original. Expanding the walls and windows like that sounds like too much. And I’m not planning on selling it so increasing the value doesn’t appeal to me.”

“I just hope he knew what he was doing. If someone’s not quite qualified you could have shoddy workmanship that shows later. Like all the cabinets and these new countertops,” he knocked on the surface, “might look fine now but give them a year and you’ll see if it’s up to par.”

Suddenly Harry was wrapping his arms around your front and kissing your neck as Van was then suggesting a rebuild of the staircase to expand the width. You placed your hands over Harry’s forearms and grinned at the feel of his lips on your skin. His distraction had almost made you forget that Van was still talking until he slowly got quieter as he looked between you and Harry and realized you were no longer listening.

Harry kept his eyes on Van as he pressed warm kisses to your neck. It was a signal to Van. You were taken and you were happy and Harry wasn’t some pushover. You were his girl and he was letting Van know.

“This the ex you were telling me about,” he whispered into your ear so Van wouldn’t hear it.

You nodded and giggled, turning to look at Harry when Van cleared his throat.

Harry stood up straight and put his hands on your shoulders, “Sorry to interrupt like that. I’m Harry, Y/n’s boyfriend. You are?”

“Oh, I’m an old friend. I’m Van,” he put his hand out to shake and Harry wrapped his big palm around Van’s with a nod.

“Nice to meet you, Van. Now, what were you suggesting I do differently?”

Van’s eyes widened slightly, “Oh… I wasn’t saying you should do anything different… it’s just that there were some ideas…”

You were no longer interested in what Van had to say at all when you felt Harry’s hand slide down to your hip. It felt like a possessive move. You’d never known Harry to be jealous or anything but that whole exchange had you seeing a bit of a different side of him.

“Definitely some good ideas, Van. But we’re happy with keeping things original. Feel free to have a look around at everything if you like. Only room off limits is our bedroom upstairs that’s locked, but otherwise, knock yourself out.”

Neither you nor Van missed Harry saying our bedroom upstairs.

“Okay. Well, thank you. Yeah, I mean I think you’ve done a great job here and…” Now Van was backtracking.

Harry nodded, “The most important thing is that Y/n is happy with how everything turned out and the quality of construction is the best,” he rapped his knuckles on the countertop, his brow raised at Van.

Van kept his distance until he left a couple of hours later, only hugging you quickly and telling you, once again, how nice it was to see you. You weren’t sure why he showed up in the first place. Maybe, being an architect, he was genuinely curious about the new house you bought and had help restoring. Or maybe he was hoping to rekindle something long gone but then was caught off guard by Harry.

“I can see why you love it here,” your cousin nudged your arm as she ogled Harry who was talking to a woman animatedly.

You laughed softly, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Your boyfriend, obviously. Damn. Who knew small-town men looked like that? You’re living your Lifetime movie dreams babe. Old mansion, aunt’s inheritance, hot local who helped you fix the place up falls in love with you…”

You laughed through your nose and shook your head, “I’m not saying I’m not agreeing with you but… I would have stayed here with or without Harry. He’s just the cherry on top.”

“Oh, I bet he’s the cherry on top. So…” she looked around the space and then back at you, “He’s living here with you then?”

You nodded, “Yep. When we started dating it was just kind of the natural next step. I think my dad thought it was too fast but I didn’t want to be away from him at night anymore and he didn’t like it either. I suggested that he just stay and… well that’s really it. He’s here for good. Plus he put so much love into this house. It feels like it’s just as much as his as it is mine.”

You could admit, everything looked fantastic. Harry had made your home into something you could see yourself living in until you were old and grey. Something you were proud to show off to everyone. It was a labor of love, for both of you.

. . .

When everyone had gone, you were wiping up the countertop when your sponge was plucked from your hands and Harry pulled you back into his chest, “So Van thinks the construction of this counter isn’t well done?”

You turned in his arms and grinned up at him, “You know the construction is fine. It’s the best. Don’t worry about what he said. I don’t think he could tell from just looking anyway.”

“Did you like him a lot when you two dated?” Harry pushed you gently back toward the counter, your bottom hitting the edge.

“Why? You’re not jealous are you?”

Harry licked his lips and squeezed your hips before sliding his hands up to your waist and lifting you to sit on the smooth surface you’d just wiped down. You laughed and grasped onto his shoulders.

“Of course, I’m not jealous of Mr. Architect. But I do want to demonstrate how sturdy everything is. I’m not the type to cut corners, you know…” he dragged his big hands up your sides and one up your spine until his fingers found the back of your neck, collaring you with his big palm as he bumped his nose into yours.

You giggled and pushed your arms over his shoulders, “Seriously, Harry. I know how sturdy everything is. No need to prove anything to me.”

“Mmm… I know I don’t have to prove anything,” he smoothed his lips against yours gently, and slowly with the poke of the tip of his tongue at your plush lips igniting the furnace in your tummy that always simmered with need for him. But when he got like this… with his hands on your body and his mouth prodding at yours… the simmer turned into a boil.

You felt one of his hands travel down your hips and then to your thigh where he bunched the material of your skirt in his palm until he’d pushed the fabric out of his way and teased his finger up and down along the edge of your panties next to your crotch.

Spreading your legs for him you leaned back slightly and parted from the kiss with a laugh, “We gonna do this right here, Harry?”

He splayed both of his hands over your bare thighs and squeezed. His eyelids were heavy as he roved his pupils from where he was holding your plush thighs then up to your face, “Wanna?’

You couldn’t help but giggle again and bite your lip as you nodded.

“Mmhmm… Thought you’d want to. Given how wet your panties are right here,” he pressed his thumb over the crotch of your knickers, “Bet you need it more than I do, sweetheart.”

He smeared his thumb around the material of your sodden panties, wetting the pad of his digit before finding your clit and pressing into it. A breathy pant fell from your lips.

“What got you like this, Y/n? What happened, sweetheart?”

“Nothing, just you.”

“Me? Are you sure about that?”

“Always you, Harry.”

He grinned and pushed the fabric of your panties aside as he kept his soft green eyes on you, “What about me does this to you, hmm? You just like me so much that you start dripping?”

You felt your face heat up. Harry often liked to ask you questions that got you a little shy or embarrassed when you had to answer. And even though you should be used to it by now you still got a bit antsy. But fuck if you didn’t love it.

“Yeah. I really just like you so much…”

Harry’s grin never faltered as he kept his gaze pinned to yours and pressed his thumb at the entrance of your pussy, taunting it open until he had pushed it all the way in and you gasped. He began slipping it in and pulling it out, “I know you do. And I love how much you need me,” he continued fucking you with his thumb, “How your body reacts to me. Look at you, Y/n…” he dipped his gaze down to where he was thrusting his thumb into you, “Letting me fuck you with my thumb on the countertop I installed. Making a mess of my palm and I bet the quartz under your ass too. Almost shaking you need it so bad.”

You grunted and rolled your hips up against his thumb, pressing him in further and Harry groaned at your little pathetic wiggle.

Releasing one of your thighs he hooked a finger into the bottom hem of your blouse and pushed upward, “Arms up.”

Raising your arms overhead harry pulled the shirt from your torso and then pulled your bra down, exposing your tits one at a time until you were pouring out over the stretchy material. With his thumb still inside of you, he ducked down and wrapped his lips over your nipple, tongue first.

You moaned and closed your eyes when Harry moved to your other breast, pumping his thumb through your walls until it was all gushy sounding. He stood back, pulling his thumb from you and then bringing it up to his mouth, wrapping his lips around it to lick off every drop of you while his other hand worked at his button to get his pants undone.

There you sat at the edge of the counter with your legs spread and your wet pussy on display. Your panties were stretched to the side and out of the way but you could feel the elastic digging into the back of your thigh and your bum.

Harry pulled himself out of his pants, his gorgeous cock already at full mast and ready to split you in half. He cradled the underside of his shaft as he stepped in toward you and held your thigh in place as he smudged his tip into your labia, spreading your arousal through your crease. The dirty look on his face was heated, like he was about to overtake every part of you.

“Hold onto my back, sweetheart. Gonna fuck you on this well-made countertop now,” he smirked at you cheekily.

You would have laughed but you were already feeling his tip at your pulsing muscle and the anticipation of him stretching you open was making your head spin.

He rocked forward, his thick crown penetrating you and opening you up as he stuffed himself in. It took a few pumps of his cock in and out to burry into the hilt. He gasped when he felt your pussy devour him whole.

Your fingers clung to his back as he began to thrust, long and languid, wet and hot.

“Fucking hell… Got me so weak for you, sweetheart. So desperate to feel you around me all the time. Wanted to fuck you on this counter right in front of your ex-architect so he could see who’s fucking you these days, who’s treating you right…”

You moaned with every deep nudge of his cock through your wet channel. But when he ran his thumb over your clit you croaked out loudly, “Fuck! Yes…”

“See? Look how good I am to you… give you the best don’t I?”

You nodded, “The best, Harry…”

He crashed his lips to yours as he worked your cunt with his cock and his thumb and the languid thrusts turned into frantic jerking motions with his tip nudging into your guts, a hint of pain spreading through your insides at the way he bullied his thick length into you. He rocked his hips against you, the sound of smacking flesh and muffled moans between kisses filtered out through the open window onto your porch. Luckily you had no neighbors anywhere near so no one would know the kinds of things that went on in that old house every evening.

Your thighs were trembling with every swipe of his thumb at your clit and every dip of his cock through your insides.

“Gonna come for me already? Yeah? Fuck, baby…” he was swollen and leaking as he shoved into you. The feel of you wrapped tight around him was always heaven. His favorite.

You whined loudly, the build-up of your orgasm was unable to be stopped as you let him ravage your pussy however he liked. Pat-pat-pat… the sound of wet pussy getting fucked was a typical soundtrack in your house just about every night.

Harry ran a big paw over your tits and squeezed as he pounded into you. The counter under you never budging.

When your pussy began to squeeze and flutter and spasm and your mouth dropped open wide you let out a pitiful cry and dug your fingertips into the taut muscle of his back as you gushed on his big cock.

He only increased his pace as he fucked into you and watched your pretty face twist up in ecstasy. He loved watching you come. It only fed his ego to see such a pretty thing with your face all scrunched and lips curled and wet as you quivered in your orgasm.

He hissed to hold himself back as he felt your pussy slobbering arousal all over his dick. He’d have loved to unload his come right then but he wanted to force another orgasm from you before he allowed himself the satisfaction of coming yet.

When you felt him slow his thrusts you could hear him cooing at you, “Good girl. Fuck baby almost made me come you look so pretty like this.”

You lulled your head up to look at him and he smoothed his lips against yours as he stilled his hips, cock lodged deep inside of your tummy.

“Gonna have you bend over now, okay? Put your feet on this stool if you need it,” he dragged the stool next to his foot toward the counter for you. And with wobbly limbs, you adjusted your seating, turning over so your hips were face down against the counter top and Harry quickly placed his big palms on the round of your ass, pulling you apart so he could see your pussy and anus.

He inhaled sharply as he ran a finger through your folds and you jolted from being so sensitive, “Easy, sweetheart… This is gonna feel good once I get going. You ready?”

You nodded into the crook of your arm and let out a muffled yes as he nudged his cock against you again.

His fingers dug into the meaty soft part of your thighs before he split you open, burying in balls deep on first pass.

You grunted and braced yourself as he began to plunge through your insides, wet strokes of his long cock filling you and then pulling back to his tip on repeat.

“Ooh… shit, sweetheart. So fucking pretty…” he pulled at your ass cheeks and railed into you. You knew he was sweating already, he was giving it his all, using his strong muscles to fuck himself into you and panting breaths every time his balls smushed into your pussy.

You began to feel that fuzzy little prickle spread over your core with every stroke of his cock. The ridges of his bare dick always fit into your crevices and little spots like he was made to snug inside of you and get you off just like that. Your g-spot was never left unloved with the shape of Harry’s cock, his tip always dipping right into it with every pass.

He began to grunt with every glide of his hips, his cock being massaged by your warm walls making his balls tighten and his heart pound the closer he got to his end.

The sight of your pussy sucking him in, lips wrapped around his thick shaft and leaving creamy arousal along his length was just as hot as the way you felt encasing him. But of course, there was the scent and the sound as well. It was lewd. All his senses were burning and singing as he fucked into you.

“Ahh!” You moaned and began to push back against his thrusts, desperate for your next orgasm as it was approaching fast.

Arousal dripped down your inner thighs as he rutted into you, his pace growing sloppy and erratic as he could tell you were about to come.

And the moment you gurgled a wet moan and he could feel you clamping down he gasped and gripped onto your hips, moving you over his cock like you were a toy to fuck, he pulled your ass against his hips and then upward along his cock before slamming you against him again, smearing your pussy juice on the countertop as he did so. You cried out and convulsed around him as Harry finally pumped into you, pulling you back against him until he was stuffed into you as deep as he could reach and released every drop of himself into you.

He groaned as he came into your warm, cozy pussy, pumping strings of his come through your slimy arousal-coated cunt.

Harry made getting off easy. You’d never been one to come so fast or so easy but you were convinced his cock was shaped exactly like you needed. You reached back to take his hand as Harry leaned over your back and kissed your neck, “Pussy fucked and stuffed and countertop sturdy as a rock,” he laughed.

You giggled and arched your back to attempt to move yourself, the position was not the most comfortable after all.

Harry helped you down and held onto you so you wouldn’t fall and you both laughed again when you turned to face him, knowing you had mascara down your cheeks.

He cupped your face and grinned at you, “This is the best housewarming party I’ve ever been to.”

You pointed at the counter he’d just fucked you on and chuckled, “And that is the sturdiest kitchen counter anyone will ever see.”

Feedback/Thoughts | Ko-fi | Main Masterlist | Patreon

Thank you for reading! I appreciate any support so remember to comment, reblog, & like 💕

Tags: @yousunshineyoutempter @tenaciousperfectionunknown @swiftmendeshoran @tiaamberxx @lukesaprince

@closureesny @angelbabyyy99 @damnasstyles @malwtilda @love-letters-to-uranus

@itjustkindahappenedreally @ssaama @onlyangellucifer @harryistheonlyoneforme @butdaddyilovehim-hs

@lc-fics @mema10 @hannahdressedasabanana @babegoalsreads @harrrrystylesslut

@elidoho @gotdrxnkonu @freedomfireflies @cathy-1997 @imgonnadreamaboutthewayyoutaaaa

@certainlysyko @tiredinwinter @princessaxoxo @angeldavis777 @kissfromadove

@lillefroe @monicaalexandraaa @hsonlyangelxo @brittanyzelazno @lemoncrushh

@golfrry @caynonmoondreams @danaehldy @babyyhoneyyy @mellamolayla

@ladscarlett @babyurthendofjune @heartateasee @littlenatilda @virgopr1ncess

923 notes · View notes

dollfacefantasy · 2 months

Text

make up sex w/ billy butcher ♡

billy butcher x fem!reader cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, daddy kink a/n: eeeee i'm so excited for the last episode

Weeks of torture lead to this. Almost a month of clipped tones and cold stares, fake smiles and pushing the line between love and hate. It all leads to nights like tonight. They were why you put up with all of it.

You and Butcher had a fight a couple weeks ago. It wasn't relationship ending, but it was more tense than most. Strained the two of you enough that the rest of the team could tell something was up.

But right now, you couldn't even remember what the disagreement had been about. Something with some recon assignment - he should've done this, or you should've been somewhere. It was currently lost in your mind because it was hard to care about anything else when the swollen tip of his cock was nudging against all the right spots inside you.

He had you on your back in his bed, his arms hooked behind your knees to keep you in place. You had your arms around his neck the best you could. You wanted him as close as possible. As much as he'd pissed you off, you really did miss him.

You missed the soft, syrupy headspace he could coax you into. The one that made you look at him like he hung the moon and stars and sculpted all the earth's mountains. The one you were in at this moment.

"Daddyyyyy," you whine for him, your arms closing tighter over his shoulders.

A breathy groan rumbles against your neck. It made him feel so fucking pathetic, but every time you said that it was like a spool of ribbon unraveled in his belly. The words that follow don't even feel like his own. It's like they've been carved into his consciousness by some divine being that ensures your pussy never strays too far from him.

"Daddy's here, baby. Daddy's right here. He's taking care of you."

Those mumbled reassurances have your walls constricting around him, trying to lure him further in and then lock him down there forever. He feels your thighs trembling so hard against his sides that they're practically vibrating. You needed this.

"Fuck, you're gonna push me out. Too fucking tight," he grunts.

"Nuh uh, daddy's too fucking big," you laugh and nudge the side of his head with your nose.

He glances over at you, chuckling at your dopey smile. His mouth lands on yours for a sloppy kiss. Your lips slide against one another with the momentum of his thrusts.

"Yeah? Or is flattery how you apologize, love?" he teases.

That gets a laugh out of you. "It's not flattery if it's true."

Your giggles are cut short by more of your own moaning, the sweet bursts of joy morphing into whiny cries. You try to roll your hips up to meet his pelvis, to get him even deeper, to get more friction on your throbbing clit.

If you were more lucid, you'd feel how smug he was oozing off of him. He took great pride in the fact that he could get you like this. That he could take you, totally capable and independent, and fuck you till you were whimpering daddy and rutting against him like it was all you were good for.

"You want it bad, don't you? I could probably sit still and let you just fuck yourself on my cock and get the same feeling," he murmurs.

That earns him a wild head shake from you. "Noooo," you plead, "Not the same as when daddy does it."

"Oh, not the same, hm?" he mocks, "Guess I have to keep going then. Can't leave you unsatisfied."

Your head bobs up and down as you nod. You were getting so close. It'd be plain cruel to tease you like that now. He was getting close too. The pulsating warmth of your hole was too much for him to resist much longer.

"Where do you want it, baby?" he asks mid-pump.

"Inside, daddy. Pretty pretty please. Need it inside," you beg automatically.

He'd have to be evil not to give you a creampie right now. Not after the weeks you spent abstaining from his cock. No, tonight you needed his load shot deep in your cunt.

"My girl," he coos and pecks your temple, "You need the reminder of who you belong to."

You nod eagerly. You needed the physical manifestation of the end of this fight. The ropes of his cum fired inside you would seal the deal.

So that's what he does. You squeal, and your entire body contracts as the bubble of euphoria inside you pops. Your hands scramble to grab at him.

"Daddy, daddy, daddy. Fuck, fuck, fuck," pours from your lips.

He strengthens his hold on you, presses you down so hard into the mattress that it's shocking the wood doesn't snap. He chokes out a loud groan and unloads himself inside you. His hips fuck against you in sharp bursts. His breaths come out in rough pants. As much as he loved what he did to you, what you did to him was a sight to behold as well.

When you've both come down, he rolls off of you. You both get the chance to breathe and cool down, before he tugs you close again and nuzzles the top of your head.

"You feel better now, darling?" he smirks against your hair.

"Mhm," you answer with a dreamy sigh, "Never gonna fight again."

#billy butcher x reader #billy butcher x you #billy butcher x y/n #billy butcher smut #billy butcher imagine #the boys x reader #the boys x you #the boys smut

752 notes · View notes

kenjakusbraincum · 10 months

Note

Hi, i can’t help but request this because you write so beautifully.

So I just had the idea of a former ballerina being sacrificed to Sukuna. She does her work good and gracefully but she longs for old times where she was able to dance and feel like she’s flying again. So she does it in the evening in Sukunas garden. He of course notices and as culture lover he is he makes her his personal dancer. And a cute lil love story forms from this scenario.

I would be so thankful if you form this to a proper story because i don’t have enough imagination. Love your work

Thank you for the compliment! I apologize in advance for my butchered descriptions of dance scenes and hope you like what I came up with anyways <3

Swan Lake

Sukuna x Reader

Word count: 6.3k

Tags/warnings: gn! reader but the words maid, whore and bitch are used, true form! sukuna, bullying, fluff with a very brief and soft smut scene at the end!

Sukuna doesn't care where his servants come from. People get offered to him all the time, and he takes them when he feels his palace is understaffed. And that happens quite often, considering how eagerly Sukuna gets rid of his servants for the smallest inconveniences. His staff is disposable to him, having no value beyond the services they provide him with.

So he doesn't know about your past. He doesn't know you were once an esteemed entertainer. He doesn't know that you were touring the world, sharing your art with audiences of all different classes and ranks in society. He doesn't know you were once the star of the stage, hypnotizing people with the fluidity of your movements in rhythm with the music. He doesn't know you were snatched from fame, taken against your will and brought to him to pay your capturer's debt. You're not sure he's even properly looked at you, much less heard your capturer tell him who you are. You were that worthless to him.

Now you are but a maid. You spend your days on your knees, mopping blood soaked floors. At night, you share chambers with dozens of other servants. Privacy is a foreign concept in Sukuna's palace. You are not entitled to it even in the bathroom. Everything is shared for the servants. There's no space for you to even try to indulge in your beloved profession, even as a hobby. Except...

The garden. Most servants are in bed, prepared to sleep, but your eyes linger on the windows. In every way, going to the garden would be to your own detriment. Losing sleep was dangerous, it could lead to getting caught slacking off, or being ratted out about it. And the consequences for that... well. One could only imagine it wouldn't be a simple slap on the wrist.

Still, you longed for this. The work you did during the day drained you, it was repetitive and soulless. You weren't made to clean floors. You were made to dance, it was your destiny. Since childhood, you don't remember a period of time as long as this one, where you haven't had the opportunity to enjoy your passion. Tears stung your eyes as this revelation found you. Every day, you could feel your life slipping through your fingers. You were alive, but your energy, your liveliness, your personality, all of it was dissipating in the pools of blood you were forced to clean.

''Can you be quiet? Some of us are trying to sleep.'', a servant who sleeps in the bed next to yours snaps you out of your thoughts. You are sobbing. You apologize quickly, and snuggle in bed, trying to muffle the noises against your deflated pillow.

But sleep just doesn't take you that night. You grow more and more frustrated, as time passes and you toss and turn in bed. Eyes wide open, fixed to the window across you. The garden lures you, calls for you. Damn it. You have to try. This is not much of a life anyways, you think. Sooner or later Sukuna or Uraume would find faults in what you're doing anyways, and you'd be served for dinner. You don't exactly have a lot to lose.

Sneaking out of the chambers is easy. You spent your whole life on your tippy toes. No one moves in their sleep as you cross the room, open the door and slide through the crack. Quietly, you make your way around the mansion. Outside, you're greeted by a light summer breeze. The garden is eerily peaceful, lit by the moonlight in this late hour.

You start to warm up, hopping, circling your neck, swinging your legs. Feeling the stretches in muscles you forgot you had. The grass tickles your legs as you splay across the ground and reach for your feet. Then stand and shift your weight to your toes, feeling out how rusty you've gotten in the time you've missed out on practicing. It's not too bad.

So you start out slow. The music plays in your head and you mouth silently, counting the rhythm. Your eyes are glued to the ground, you're trying not to trip and fall on the uneven surface. Your movement feels as smooth as it did before, but you can't see yourself in the mirror to check your form. You close your eyes, surrendering to the cadence of your motions. The music carries you, and as you turn into a poised second arabesque, time seems to slow. It's only a moment, but when you turn back to continue...

Slam. So hard you start to fall back, but his arms catch you around the waist. If you weren't scared out of your mind you would've wondered how did he even show up there without you noticing. But of course, he's Sukuna. You look at him with eyes so wide you think they may fall out, and he stares back with an amused smirk. Then he bites the air in front of you, clanking his sharp teeth together, and you scream in response. His hand flies to your mouth in an instant and he shuts you up.

"Quiet now. You wouldn't want to wake your colleagues up, would you?", he tilts his head, observing your terrified expression. "Or do you want everyone to slack off with you tomorrow?"

"I-I won't slack off I promise!!!", you panic, hands shaking as you bring them up in a defensive stance. Tears pool in your eyes as you stare death in the face. He is... weirdly beautiful, lit by the moonlight. And he holds you sturdily, but gently. It doesn't hurt. And he doesn't seem particularly mad.

"Is that so?", he asks. There's a smile on his face, but it feels dangerous, threatening. Like everything else about him. "Then just what do you think you're doing outside at this hour?"

"I was- I was dancing -", you stutter, struggling to form coherent sentences. Why are you so close to him? You're pulled flush against him. You can almost feel his -

"I didn't know I had a dancer in my ranks. Why didn't you say so?", he says, and surprisingly lets go of you.

You're so sure he's playing with his food. You're so sure he's going to slice you into pieces. You've already crossed so many lines, broken so many rules. You look to the ground, only now remembering eye contact with him was strictly forbidden.

"Speak.", he growls, audibly irritated by your refusal to reply.

You didn't think he was genuinely asking. What the hell are you supposed to say? Why didn't you say so? Maybe because you wanted to see the light of day again? "I ... A lowlife such as myself has no place speaking to your Highness.", you duck your head low in an apologetic manner. And he seems satisfied, smiling playfully again. Except you don't see it, you feel it. Sukuna's presence pulls the most demeaning, self-depricating things out of people's mouths.

"Humble.", he comments and walks a couple steps around you. He's huge. "Go on then, dance for me."

You stand frozen. It's not that you're ashamed... you've performed for audiences bigger than you ever could've imagined. But the weight of his stare is harder to bear than that of hundreds. And the stakes are higher than ever. He has to like it, or else...

"Dance!", he orders sternly, and crosses his arms over his chest. So you give it your all. Remembering where he interrupted you, you get back into position and start. Dance. Your life depends on it, doesn't it? Well if there's one thing you can do to save your life it should be this.

But it's not like before. Fear seeps into every muscle in your body, and your movements are unsure. Every jump is fleeting, every landing shaky. Tears blur your vision, and it's so hard to keep your breathing steady when you're struggling not to cry. But you're a ballet dancer, you were trained to endure. You finish the variation, cross your legs and gracefully bow.

Sukuna watches intently with narrowed eyes, like a predator stalking his prey. You can't see the sly smile on his face, but you can feel it.

"I apologize, your Highness.", your voice trembles. "It wasn't my best."

Sukuna huffs in amusement and waves his hand dismissively. "Go to sleep.", he orders.

You bow before him again, and quickly turn back towards the mansion. You don't feel relief from his piercing stare until you disappear behind a corner in the hallway.

You can't shake the feeling when you're back in your bed, snuggled in the sheets up to your eyes. You just survived a close encounter with Sukuna. And he must've liked what he saw at least a little bit, if you're still alive.

The next morning, you wake up and start getting ready for work with the other servants. The bathroom is busy, and as there's little else to do in the servant circles, gossiping starts immediately.

"Did you hear the scream last night?", the servant taking up the sink next to yours says, tapping foundation into her skin.

"Screams come from Sukuna's chambers all the time. It must be a new pet getting used to him.", another one replies. You shiver.

"Everyone knows how that sounds. This was different!", the two maids exchange a look.

The second rolls her eyes. "So, he killed someone. Nothing new.", she shakes her head.

"No. Uraume would've called someone to clean it up immediately.", the first servant continues. You really, really wish they would just drop it, until... "Hey you.", she turns to you. "Your bed was empty last night, did you hear anything?"

Your blood runs cold. "I was... feeling sick. And went to the bathroom.", you say quickly. "I probably couldn't hear... over the sound of throwing up."

"Hm.", both of them look at you now. "Well you look sick too.", one of them says. "Be careful with work today.", then they finish up and leave. You breathe a sigh of relief and finish up getting ready.

The next few days pass spotlessly. You don't cross paths with Sukuna. But some nights, you feel his presence in the garden. You stretch and practice simple movements in the bathroom, when no one's around. And the variations, you save them for the garden. At night. The only time you feel alive, the only time you feel like yourself. Human. Free. You think you might just get away with no one knowing, but then...

He walks past you and another maid while you're scrubbing the floors in the hallway. Both of you freeze as he passes by, assuming a submissive position and greeting him. You pray he won't notice, pray he won't know you by your voice, but he stops. Right by you, and then there's a moment of silence. He lifts his foot, touching your chin, and nudges you to look at him.

"Oh.", you watch his stern expression soften. "It's a shame for a talent like yourself to waste away on their knees.", he says. You look to the servant next to you, and she mouths a silent 'what?' as she turns her head in your direction.

You swallow your shame. It's not the first time you had to in front of Sukuna. "Its an honor to serve you, your Highness, even if it's on my knees.", you say.

Sukuna hums. "What a good servant you are.", an amused smile graces his face once again. "Well, get to rubbing then.", he nudges your face back downwards with his foot, and walks away.

You and the servants keep rubbing intensively, until he's out of sight and a couple minutes have passed. Then she grabs you by your shoulders and gives you a look that is both terrified and angry. "You did what with Sukuna?", she asks.

You frown, offended. Why does everyone in this mansion immediately think of that? "He knows I'm a dancer.", you say simply and look back to the floor, rage brewing in your chest.

"When did you do it. Was it you screaming? Oh my god it was!", the revelation hits the servant and she puts her hands on her cheeks, looking at you in shock.

"It wasn't me!!", you lie, agitation showing in your voice.

"Does he really have two dicks?", she asks.

You drain the washing rug and smack her in the face with it. "You disgusting pervert, how dare you ask that about your master!"

"You hit me! Whore!", she smacks you back, but harder, and her rag is full of dirty water.

"I'm not a whore!!", you cry, and wipe your face with your dirty, wet hands.

"Dancer. Yeah right, I can only imagine!", she throws the wet rag on you, and it sits on your lap, soaking you in the nasty liquid. "And you're a liar too! How shameless!"

"What is this commotion about?", a voice calls from the back of the hallway, and you turn around with teary eyes. Uraume looks like a blob of white in your vision, nonetheless they're recognizable.

"Tell them! You hit me, you little bitch!", the servant slaps your shoulder. You don't have it in you to fight back. The injustice pains your heart, and you can't bear the embarrassment.

Uraume smirks, noting your disheveled appearance. Your whole uniform is soaked now, even your hair. There's a pool of water forming around you as the liquid seeps out of the rags. "Clean this mess immediately. Master will be notified of this issue.", they say, and walk past the two of you.

The servant looks at you with contempt burning in her eyes. Then spits in front of you. "Clean.", she says, takes the rag you hit her with and starts cleaning.

Sukuna sees you that evening. He sits on his throne, head in his hand, and looks down on you and the other servant. He hides his inner smile, the joy he takes in executing power over others. And it's you again. He asks what this is about, and the servant wastes no time pointing her finger at you, saying you hit her first.

Sukuna's critical stare turns to you. ''Is that true?'', he asks, scanning you from head to toe, noting the state you're in. He's not particularly happy to see you like that.

You timidly nod, admitting your fault in the situation. Your stare is fixed to the ground, where dirty water drips down from your soaked clothes. You smell, and look like a rat, all of that in front of Sukuna. You wish the ground would swallow you whole and spare you this humiliation.

But he knows you. You've captivated him. Otherwise he wouldn't have cared to ask if you have anything to say in your defense. You tell him, omitting the details of her perverse question, you simply say she was slandering his holy name.

Sukuna moves, leaning his elbows on his knees. You care about his name? How lovely. So what is this slanderous thing his servants fought about?

Silence. You and the servant exchange uncomfortable looks. If there was one thing the both of you could agree on for the day, it was that repeating it in front of him was too vulgar. With that, Sukuna quickly grows bored with the situation. When he raises his hand, both of you flinch, expecting immediate punishment. However, nothing happens when he flicks his fingers. You're dismissed.

Quickly, both of you scurry away, leaving the throne room and going back to your jobs. The rest of the day is harrowing. The rumor spreads among the servants quickly, and you are the butt of every joke. You hear whispering and giggling behind your back, and everyone's stares linger on you as you go about your day. The culmination happens next morning, when the servants are getting ready in the bathroom, and the insults start getting more direct.

''Show us how you dance for Sukuna, why don't you?''

''Did you take both at the same time?''

''He didn't like you very much if you're still working as a servant.''

And then everyone goes quiet. When you turn around, you see Uraume at the door, their eyes fixed on you. ''Come.'', they say quietly, and leave without waiting for you to catch up. Well, it seems your punishment is due. You gladly leave the bathroom and follow them down the hall, anything is better than spending another second with the other servants. But now that you think of it, where is the servant that shares your punishment? Have you even seen her this morning? Or after the meeting with Sukuna at all?

You turn a couple corners, and stop at the end of the hallway. Uraume opens the doors to a room, and ushers you inside. What is this? It's furnished. Modestly, but... You open your mouth to ask a question, but you're quickly cut off.

''Make yourself at home.'', they say, and turn their attention to you.

''What about my things?'', you ask, looking around the room, then back to Uraume.

''You won't need them. Do you have good table manners?''

''Uhh.. yeah... I think.''

''Great. You dine with Master Sukuna tonight.''

''Huh!?''

''Your outfit is on the bed, be ready by sunset. I'll come to pick you up.''

Then the door closes and you're left alone in your new room. This isn't what a punishment should look like. Not when a beautiful kimono waits on your bed. Not when there's a barre fixed onto a mirrored wall, and there's a box on the ground, and when you open it, you find pointe shoes. Multiple pairs. He didn't know what size to get you. Ribbons, a sewing kit, glue, scissors... everything you need to break them in. Under that, a simple black leotard and a wrap skirt. By all means... this looks more like a reward.

You try everything on, find the perfect pair of shoes, and test them. It's not a big room, but there's enough space for you to practice with the bar. For the first time in so long, time passes quick. You're doing something you enjoy. It feels like in a blink of an eye, your shadow gets long on the wall opposing the window, and you have to get ready for dinner. You put the kimono on to the best of your ability - you don't have the opportunity to wear it often as a servant, being usually restrained in a uniform. And then reality hits you. Sukuna wants to have you over for dinner. This... is this a date? Unless he was planning to eat you, but you suppose he wouldn't have bought you shoes and furnished a room specially for you if that was the case... Come to think of it, what are you eating tonight?

Uraume knocks on the door, and takes a long look at you when you open. They fix your collar and nod, taking off down the hallway and expecting you to follow. They lead you to the dining room, vast and expensively furnished. You hear your heartbeat drumming in your ears. You only let your eyes explore for a second, before you fix them back to the ground and lower your head in Sukuna's presence.

''Your Highness.'', you bow in his direction.

''Master from now on.'', he says, and stands up to greet you. Master. You've only heard Uraume, and occasionally his pets, when he'd walk by with them, call him this by this... less formal title. He towers over you as his hand touches your shoulder, urging you to turn around. You follow obediently, making a circle and displaying your outfit.

He hums in approval. "Suits you much better than a cleaning uniform.", he says, and pulls your chair out for you to sit. You mutter a quiet thank you and sit down, already overwhelmed by the interaction.

He sits on the other side of the table, facing you. You can't bear the intense eye contact, and the silence that spreads across the room. Your eyes are fixed to your hands in your lap. ''Don't be shy now. I didn't invite you to sit there and be quiet. I reserve such duties for my pets.'', he breaks the silence.

''Master. Sharing a meal with you is a privilege, and I want to thank you for that. I'm not sure I'm deserving of it, though, and how my company may be of use to you.''. The kitchen servants scatter around the table, bringing food and pouring drinks. Various appetizers decorate the table, and only now do you notice you're hungry. You shyly pick the foods that catch your eye the most.

And your humility draws out a smile from him. ''You are an artist. And I am a man who takes great joy in consuming art.'', he says, and taps his finger against his glass, watching you pick. He's getting to know you, through your taste in food.

''I didn't know that about you.'', you say and look to your plate. You feel your hand shaking as you reach for the cutlery. You know Sukuna is judging every move. He was in your territory when you were dancing, now you're on his. And he will recognize the smallest mistake.

''Oh.'', his tone changes. It sounds like he didn't particularly like that comment. He finishes chewing. ''Did you take me for a savage?'', he narrows his eyes. More food is brought to the table, plates come and go quickly as the conversation progresses, and the tension grows.

You stutter, reading his volatile mood. ''I've only heard rumors.''.

He huffs in amusement again. ''I've heard rumors about you too.'', he says, leaning into the table. ''To be fair, I was asking around.''. So he took interest in you. ''They say you were the best there was, until you got captured.''

You chew slowly, taking his story in. He continues. ''They asked about you. Asked if I knew where you are. I said no.''. Sukuna watches as you grow visibly distressed by the mentions of your team. ''The best there is? What a wonderful prize. I'd rather keep you to myself.''. Oh. So that's what this is about. He gets off on the thought of owning you, the best there is, just for himself. You curse whoever told him about you. ''You showed me your worst, and mesmerized me. I want you to show me your best. Dance for me. Convince me you're worth my patronage.''.

The servants bring the main dish, and your head droops, stare fixed into the finely decorated red meat. You touch it with your cutlery, feeling it's texture. Sukuna eyes you as you cut a slice and bring it to your mouth, expectantly waiting for your reaction. You chew slowly, savoring the taste, but your expression is puzzled. ''What is this?'', you ask. And to make sure it doesn't sound like you're unhappy, you cut another slice. Truthfully, the food is incredible, but... you can't quite place the meat.

Sukuna bares his sharp teeth in a grin. ''Veal.''.

The conversation steers into a different direction then, and you quickly forget about how powerless you felt just moments ago. Sukuna is nothing like you've imagined him. He's right, you did take him for a savage. After all, everything you've heard about him pointed to a monster, who only took pleasure in wreaking havoc and destruction. Now, you find him to be eloquent, knowledgeable, and quite sophisticated. In a way, he appears similar to the other people you've met through your job. But way more powerful, and with it, way more intriguing.

Once again, time passes quickly, slipping through your fingers. The dinner is over, and you're facing Sukuna at the door. He seems to be pleased with your company, if you can read his face at all. ''Should I consider my offer accepted?'', he inquires. ''Everything will be provided for you. You just have to dance.''.

Well, it doesn't sound half bad, does it? You're not sure if the terms of the offers convinced you, or his presentation during the dinner. It might just be him. He made you feel you wouldn't be a jester, but a respected entertainer. And not for just anyone, but for a man as thoughtful and cultured as Sukuna proved himself to be. ''For you, gladly. Master.'', you smile at him. And he smiles back, taking your small hand into his, and planting a soft kiss to your fingers. You bow to him, wish him a good night, and you part ways.

Later, in your new bed, you find yourself replaying the interaction. Tracing his features in your memory. It's the first time you've had the chance to observe him, without fear of consequences. And he was beautiful. So elegant in the way he dressed and carried himself. Like a true king.

From then on, life in Sukuna's mansion is a game. Sukuna courts you in his dining room, feeding you delicacies from all around the world Foods that are hard and expensive to come by, that you've never heard of before. He courts you with the things he allows you to do, and the gifts he gives you. You dance and eat and walk around his garden and library. You don't dine with him every night, but when you do, rest assured that a new outfit is waiting for you in your room when you get back from practice.

And you court him on the floor, with feathery leaps that leave him on the edge of his seat, and dizzying turns that force him to focus all four eyes on you. You court him when you finish the variation by bowing before him, on one knee, a breath away from where he's sitting. And when you look up at him, he sees a lover rather than a personal dancer. Even though he's never touched you, or pressed his lips to yours.

There is love in the foods he picks for you specifically to enjoy, and there is love in the way you let him watch you practice. Even if you mess up, misstep and fall out of rhythm. Even if you stumble and fall in the most unceremonious of ways. There is vulnerability in letting him see you fail. It only happens a handful of times, but when you slip before him, you feel more naked than you would ever feel with your clothes off. And the relationship that the two of you foster grows intimate, despite the formal distance you keep from each other.

And that distance closes in, one day when Sukuna is there during a particularly nasty fall. You yelp when you hit the ground, and reach for your ankle, checking for injury. You only notice Sukuna when you feel his hand on your shoulder, and his brows furrowed in worry as his head looms over you. Your eyes meet for a moment, and you're hypnotized. Then you look away quickly, feeling your face heat up from the closeness.

''It's nothing.'', you say, and look down.

''Sure?'', Sukuna asks and stands up. You nod, and he offers you a pair of his hands, to help you stand. You take them, and he hoists you up effortlessly. And now you're face to face with his chest, and you're still holding his hands... ''That should to for today.'', he says, and when you look at him, there's a tender smile on his face. It sounds like a suggestion, but you've learned Sukuna is subtle about giving you orders. You nod, dust yourself off and untie your shoes.

That night, you recall his touch on your skin. Long fingernails ghosting over your shoulder, sending shivers through your whole body. You never expected Sukuna to have it in him to be gentle. But, that wouldn't be the first time he's broken the mold you thought he fit. And now in the cold of night, you find yourself craving him.

The next time you're invited to dinner, the tension is almost unbearable. ''Aren't you a sight to behold?'', he tells you when he welcomes you into the room. He always gives you compliments, but tonight they weigh heavy on your heart. You look across the table and curse every plate and glass that stands between the two of you. You look at him with quiet longing, and you think he knows. Because his smile is victorious, almost teasing. And when you accidentally hit his leg under the table, you start to credit it less to his size, and more to him deliberately crossing into your space. Subtlety is not a word you ever thought you'd attribute to Sukuna, but it seems this is the way you've established communication. You resist the instinct to remove your leg apologetically. So they stay touching.

Unfortunately, this little interaction slowly turns your brain into mush. By the last bite, your hand is trembling and you know you don't have the precision to pick up the last piece of food with your chopsticks. So you leave it on the plate, and wait for a moment when Sukuna is at least a little bit distracted, to attempt eating it again.

But such a thing doesn't happen. Today, he looks at you like you're the food on his plate. "Come on, eat it.", he nods in your direction. You can't read his expression, but it seems benevolent.

"I'm so full.", you make up an excuse.

"Just one strip.", he nudges your leg under the table, and you flinch, cheeks heating up.

"I.. I think I'll combust.", lies.

"I'll be offended.", Sukuna plays along with your game.

"Ah...", he wins, and you pick up your chopsticks with shaky hands. But as hard as you try, the little piece of food keeps escaping you, traveling through the plate.

"What makes you so flustered today?", he asks. "Is it the leg?". You blink at the plate, and feel your face going as red as the wine in your glass. "Come.", he waves his finger at you. You lean into the table, used to following his commands. And in no time, he is looming over your plate, one hand picking the last piece of your food with his chopsticks, and the other gently taking hold of your chin, nudging your mouth open. You part your lips obediently, and he places the bit onto your tongue, never breaking eye contact. His face is mere centimeters away from yours, observing you as you chew.

And the moment you've swallowed, and opened your mouth for air, he seizes you in a kiss. Slow, as he tastes your lips, and lets you adjust and catch up with him. He feels you go tense with the initial shock, then relax in his hold and kiss him back. His tongue brushes past your lips, and you think you'll sink right through your chair, and into the earth beneath the floor. The taste, the smell of him, so expensive and intoxicating. If this moment could last forever -

Foolish you. So much stress and tension, and you barely notice how quickly it passes. , how quickly his lips leave yours. His eyes scan your face, making sure you're alright, and then he's back in his chair. "There.", he says, "Have something to be flustered about."

That night, you think about his lips, slipping away from yours and moving to your neck, collarbones, shoulders. Not stopping until they've explored your whole body and touched your soul.

In the meantime, you practice your chosen choreography to perfection. And when you're standing in his throne room and awaiting the music, and your deciding performance to start, it's the first time in a while that you recognize feeling nervous. Uraume is there too, and his other disciples and guests. But he is the only one that matters. The only one your life depends on. Although the times when your life was truly on the line are long gone, Sukuna is still your patron, and now it's your turn to either satisfy or disappoint him.

The music starts, and the nervousness wanes as you start dancing. Sukuna's gaze is heavy, critical. He's seen you do this times and times already, but now it's final. Now, he's telling you, ''Bewitch me.''. Now, you're joining it together, one seamless show just for his enjoyment. And with every spin, you keep your eyes fixed on him. Enticing him with your movement, seducing him.

And for once, time passes quick for Sukuna as well. He finds himself lost in your dance. In your quick glances, in the way your body moves, contorts, withstands your weight on your tippy toes with so much grace and fluidity. You make it look easy. You nail the landing you failed so many times before his very eyes, perfectly, effortlessly. He almost wonders if you fell intentionally when he was watching you. And he's captivated. By the end of your performance, you earn his smile. You earn the clap of his hands, you even earn his standing ovation. The king himself, honoring you with the highest form of praise.

''It takes quite a performer, to entertain a crowd all by oneself.'', he comments later, over dinner. ''You've convinced me. You're worth keeping.''

''And when I can't dance anymore?'', you ask.

''You'll still be able to eat with me.'', he says.

At the doors, he bends down to kiss you again. You anticipate it, and accept it, kneading your hands through his hair. He asks if you're tired, and you shake your head no. He asks if you want to come with him. Yes, please yes, you've wanted to for so long. You almost thought he'd never ask. Again, his face lights up in a victorious smile.

He walks you through the halls, to his quarters of the mansion. Vast, and decorated with various works of art. They hang on the wall, or stand on the cupboards in forms of statues of various sizes. Sukuna likes to collect things, if that wasn't evident by your presence in the mansion.

''You're dragging behind. Did you have a change of heart?'', he asks, and extends his hand towards you. You step closer, and he wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer. You're standing at the doors of his bedroom.

''I was just admiring the interior.'', you smile at him, and take it upon yourself to cross the doorstep. His bedroom overlooks the garden, through a tall set of windows, little plants sitting on his windowsill. And his bed is massive. You think it could fit four people of your size. But then again, Sukuna is not a normal sized person. Your hand finds the mattress, testing it's sturdiness. And when you turn around, he's right behind you. Towering over you, and forcing you to look up at him, like the king he is. But you're not scared. You have no reason to be.

''Lay down.'', he orders, but his voice doesn't sound stern. Still, you obey, climbing into the bed. And he follows, letting you ease into the pillows only for a moment, before he settles above you, urging your legs apart. You welcome him, finally feeling the closeness you've been craving for so long. His body, big enough to enclose you completely under him, so carefully pressed against yours. Light enough not to hurt, but heavy enough to establish power. To give you what you want, what you've craved for a very long time.

He never lets you forget whose grasp you're in. He folds your smaller body with ease, adjusting you to his liking. And you let him, trusting him with your body and pleasure. He takes you gently, slowly, making sure you're comfortable in the process. You feel so full of him, but it's not enough, not enough until all of your senses are overwhelmed with him. You feel up his muscled arms and back, wrap around him, pull him closer with every stroke, every swipe of his lips against yours. Sukuna draws the moans out of you with practiced thrust of his hips, hitting spots inside you you didn't know existed. In no time you're seeing stars - his four eyes, never leaving yours as you come apart.

And Sukuna is stoic for the most part, but by the end of it, even he is loosing his composure. Hungry moans slip past his lips, his brows furrowing as he concentrates, trying not to let out too soon. You encourage him, babbling sweet nonsense into his ear. This flustered Sukuna, completely engulfed in the chase of his own pleasure, is as close as you've come to seeing a god. Moments later, his hips still, and you feel his muscles tense as he reaches completion, deep grunts filling your ears like the sweetest music.

You lay in his embrace, and trace your fingertips over his tattoos. Your stare is fixed on him, as he tells you various anecdotes from his long lifetime. You enjoy the opportunity to admire his beauty from up close. His eyes, so unusually benevolent as they stare outside the window and turn to you from time to time, to check if you're awake. The curve of his nose, the glimpses of his sharp teeth, his strong, masculine jawline. He is an art piece on his own.

After a while, he notices you struggling to stay awake. His hand on the back of your head nudges you to lay on his chest. He whispers you a good night, and runs his hand through your hair as you drift off. It's been a long day you've dedicated entirely to him, so he finds you worthy of this special treatment. After all, it isn't often that someone claims the title of both Sukuna's personal dancer and his lover, much less in the same day.

#sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna #sukuna #jjk x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fluff #sukuna fluff #soft sukuna #sukuna x you #see i love ballet. i even know a little bit about ballet #but WRITING ABOUT IT?? HELLLLLP #i just didnt know how to incorporate terms specific to it so everything is super vague #tons of dialogue in this one too!!#and the first fic i write where sukuna genuinely considers reader to be his equal and not a subhuman pet lol #it was fun to consider how he would act with someone like that #the dining scenes and the whole courtship thing? 100% inspired by hannibal.#dont ask me about it or i will write an essya

1K notes · View notes

hughiecampbelle · 2 months

Text

The Boys Preference: Lashing Out And Regretting It

Requested: heyya! love how you write the boys characters you got them so well just like how they are on the show. if its okay and if its a good idea, may i request an imagine with the boys and homelander and their reaction after they and reader got into an argument, getting to the point where they told reader some hurtful things and told reader to leave because they dont need reader or reader is nothing to them/is useless. they just say this because they’re angry but reader takes their word to heart and did just as they said. now they cant find reader or finding it hard to locate reader. could be platonic or familial. thank you! - anon

A/N: Screaming I love this!!! I live for the angst!!! I'm so sorry I've been so slow with requests my loves! I hope you can understand! Feedback is always appreciated! 💜💜💜

Requests are open! 🔮

Butcher embarrassed you in front of everyone. Yelling and screaming, calling you useless, all because Samer got away. You were a little too occupied with Kimiko and Frenchie to realize, opting to save your friend than chase after him. Both Kimiko and Frenchie were eager to come to your aid, but he shut them down. He got in your face and he humiliated you, said the team was better off without you. You left without a word, ignoring your friends who begged you to stay. You left your phone behind, knowing they'd call and text, apologizing for him. You were good at your job, the best even. You and Butcher have worked together a long time. This was your first mistake in a long time and he couldn't let it go. You were done. You packed a bag and disappeared. When they realized they couldn't reach you, they split up, looking at your apartment and usual hang outs. No one had seen you. Suddenly Butcher can feel his heart in his stomach. Regret spread through his chest. Everyone was pissed at him, but no one was angrier at him. He never should have done what he did. Now you were gone. Who knows when you'd show up again?

Hughie regrets it immediately. He said what he said because he was angry, and stupid, and awful. You left the night of the Tek Knight party. You were a Supe, a powerful one, but for whatever reasons, your abilities weren't what they used to be. You argued with him, saying he shouldn't go in alone. It came out before he realized, before he could take it back. Right now, he was more powerful than you were. What right did you have telling him what to do when you couldn't do your single job? The look on your face, the horror and hurt, it made him sick to his stomach. He tried to apologize, to explain, but you were done. You threw your hands up, wishing Hughie and the rest a safe mission, but you were done. M.M. assured him it was better to go through with it than run after you, so he did, but the whole time he's thinking about you. He doesn't find you at the office or apartment. You disappeared. They tried to track you, find you, but they hit wall after wall. You'd show up again, they all told him, you just needed time. He'd never felt so guilty in his life.

Annie didn't think you were trying hard enough. It didn't seem like you cared anymore. Not about the team, or taking down Homelander. You seemed like you were just going through the motions. She meant to just talk with you, but things escalated pretty quickly. As soon as she said the words, she knew she was in the wrong. You were becoming a liability to everyone involved. If you were done, burned out, then just say that. Leave. But if you wanted to be a part of this team, if you really cared, you'd stop being so useless. Truth was, you were tired. You were tired of everything. There was no name calling or fighting back. You didn't have it in you. You got up and you walked out, pushing past Butcher and the rest who were just walking in. Annie goes to follow you, but you just pick up your pace. She calls and texts, but you never answer. Everyone says to give you your space, but she can't let it go. She shows up at your place which is completely empty. It fills her with so much shame. She apologizes profusely, asking you to come back, but she never gets a response.

M.M. is reactive and angry and he knows what he's done is wrong immediately after. He's been in charge of this team and so far all you've been is negative. You've lost your faith in the team. He understands, he gets it, but for the sake of everyone involved, he needs you to look on the bright side. If there isn't one, he needs you to make one. He ends up blowing up at you while you're waiting for Hughie as Webweaver. You tell him, Annie, and Kimiko that you have a bad feeling about this, a terrible feeling, but it was too late to do anything. Hughie was already inside. He knows now is not the time nor place, but he loses it. If you can't have faith in the mission, in your teammates, then you shouldn't be here at all. Your attitude problems only hurt morality and it was worse than useless, it was dangerous. Annie and Kimiko try to de-escalate the situation, but you've made up your mind: you're done. You leave without a second thought, wishing them a safe mission. Because they're all occupied, no one can really do anything about it. After his panic attack, Marvin sees just how right you were, but when he calls it goes right to voicemail. When it seems like you disappeared, he does everything he can to track you down. You don't want to be found, though.

Frenchie fights with you after Samer gets away. It was the three of you that were in charge of him and you let him get away. You didn't have any fight left in you. It was your fault. He must've been working on the cuffs for weeks. You trusted him and you let Kimiko get hurt. You know that's the reason he's so upset: because he had to cut off her leg to save her. She could have died. You know what she means to him. And yet, he goes a little overboard. Everyone thinks so, yelling at him to stop when he's gone too far. You were useless. You let Samer get away, you let Kimiko get hurt, you failed at every single job you were given. He can see the look of hurt on your face and finally stops, the room left in a heavy silence. You grab your coat and you leave. There was no use in fighting with him, he was right. Annie and Hughie called after you, pleading with you to stay, but you waved them off, storming out. When they don't hear from you, they all start to worry. You sent a single text to Frenchie before turning off your phone. Tell Kimiko I'm sorry. Feeling guilty, he goes to your place. You're not there though, and neither are your immediate belongings: wallet, keys, phone, some clothes. He has to do something to fix this, to make things okay.

Kimiko is really hurt you turned yourself in alongside Frenchie. The guilt was eating you alive, all the things you've ever done. It was horrible. It was unforgivable. When you come back alongside Butcher, who insists you and Frenchie can replicate the virus, you can't stand to look at her. She wants to talk with you, to ask you why, and eventually, when you get a little alone time, she does. Of course she would understand, your upbringings were cruel, brutal, and it lead you down this road, but you couldn't move on. You couldn't forgive yourself. Kimiko was pissed. Did you really think it was that easy? Did you really think you were the only one eaten alive by guilt and shame and self-hatred? She was signing at you furiously, as close to yelling as she could get. You were so smart, so intelligent, and yet you were wasting your talents wanting to rot away in prison! If you were going to throw your talents away and hurt the team and hurt her and become a useless nobody, then what was stopping you? Certainly not her, not any of your friends. You don't have it in you to fight back. You don't have anything left in you, not anymore. She tries to get your attention when you leave, but you don't look back. When none of them hear from you, Kimiko begs The Boys to do everything they can to find you. Please, she has to make things right.

Bonus! Homelander cuts people out of life left and right. Still, you never thought he would turn on you. And yet, when you don't know who the snitch is, when you're not closer to pinpointing the culprit, he loses it. His eyes even heat up, though he catches himself, calming himself down. Firecracker interrupts his yelling, foolishly, but in the end it saves you from hearing anymore about how pathetic, useless, stupid you are. That you don't deserve to be a part of The Seven, you don't deserve to be a Supe at all. He goes off with her, believing it was Webweaver all along. You don't know how much time you have, but you know, in order to avoid his wrath, you have to leave right away. Get some space between you so that he can cool off, if he ever does. You took it as a pretty clear way of saying that you were out, you lost his trust. You weren't a friend anymore, you weren't anything anymore. Firecracker had saved the day. Again. When he comes back, covered in blood and no closer to finding the narc than he was before, he goes looking for you. He searches the entire city, but you've disappeared completely. Vanished.

443 notes · View notes

coff33andb00ks · 4 months

Text

Rule Breaker - Pt 2

max verstappen x single mom!reader

{prev} {next}

warnings: cursing, reader y/nsplains, jos is an asshole, fluff, barely proofread, logan tries to flirt, y/n's bestie is a tumblr girlie at heart, kiddo steals the show Summary: Max has it all...right? Besides, he's too busy collecting trophies and completing side quests for anything else. Until... You moved across a whole ass ocean to start over, uprooting you and your son's lives to become social media admin for cars that drive in circles. word count: 6833 auth.note: thank you all so much for the love for part 1!!! ily all and i'm having so much fun writing this

The paddock was relatively quiet so early in the morning. Unable to sleep, y/n had left the hotel and made her way to the track. She was taking the opportunity to explore the settings on the camera and getting her bearings since she didn't have any work duties to complete until later in the day. She had expected Kevin to want to come with her, but he'd opted to sleep in with Ellie, who would bring him to the track later. So she wandered, exchanging the occasional greeting with others. Stopping to take a photo of a bird perched on the fence in front of pit lane, she backed up, crashing into someone.

"Whoop, s'cuse me, sorry," she said, turning to apologize properly. She recognized the two men by their faces but her mind blanked on their names.

"It's alright, ma'am. Didn't mess up your shot, did we?" His American accent was a happy surprise.

"I don't think so." Smiling, y/n lowered the camera. "My fault, and I'll blame it on being new."

"Marketing?" The other man guessed.

Australian. And suddenly she remembered their names. "Social media. I'm y/n."

"So great to meet you." Logan tipped his head slightly. "Carolina?"

"God, you can take the hick outta Carolina, but you can't take the Carolina outta the hick." He grinned and she laughed. "North Carolina, yeah."

Oscar stared at Logan. "How did you guess that? She just sounds plain American?"

"No, dude, it's the lilt. It's like when George got pissed we couldn't pick up on the different English accents."

"Can he pick up on the different American south accents?" y/n asked.

Logan rolled his eyes. "He knows Brooklyn, Midwest, valley girl, and just south."

"In his defense it's hard to pick out each individual one," Oscar pointed out.

Y/n shrugged. "You've got a point. I sound different from people that grew up just an hour from me."

"Yeah! And I know mine's been butchered from so much time in Europe." Logan nodded.

"You still sound more like home than anyone else I've met."

"I was gonna say the same thing – you sound like home." He smiled, a soft, genuine smile that had her smiling in return.

"And what do I sound like?" Oscar asked with a grin.

"A magical place far, far away," y/n told him. She covertly checked the time and wondered if hospitality had finished setting up so she could get some coffee.

"Hear that? I sound like Star Wars."

"She's using southern charm on you, dude," Logan snorted.

"Well it's working, I'm charmed."

A giggle bubbled up her throat and she let it free, raising her camera and giving them a hopeful look. "Okay?"

"Hang on—" Logan fussed with his hair, and y/n laughed when Oscar reached to help him, then they both had to fuss with Oscar's hair. "Think we're presentable enough?"

She nodded, moving so the sunlight was beside them. She got several photos and thanked them. "I'll send them to y'alls social media teams?"

"You can just send it to me." Logan began patting his pockets for his phone.

"Unbelievable," Oscar muttered under his breath, and y/n barely heard it, giving Logan her number and adding him to her contacts once he'd sent her a text.

"I should get going – Sorry for bumping into you."

"Don't apologize, I'm glad you did."

As she walked away she gave her head a little shake, smiling to herself when she overheard Oscar's grumbling that Logan had flirted with fuckin' Red Bull's social media admin. Something told her to glance back and she did, amused to see Logan watching her. Don't show interest, don't show interest, don't—

He gave a little wave. And she smiled, waving back.

Fuck.

Ducking around the corner, she wandered until she found hospitality, grogginess taking over as she made her way to the back to fix herself coffee. She recognized a couple engineers and mechanics that she'd met in Milton Keyes and greeted them, settling into a corner to drink and look over the pictures she'd gotten.

She was on her second coffee, had uploaded the pictures to her laptop, and was editing the first batch for a short video when the chair across from her was pulled out, taking her shoe with it.

"Sorry," Max said when she yelped, chuckling as he bent to pick up her shoe. "Didn't know you were attached."

"Bad habit I'm afraid." Taking the shoe, she shifted to put it back on. "Picked it up when I was pregnant now I do it without thinking."

"For the swelling?" he asked, sitting down and taking a sip of his coffee.

"Yeah." After tying the shoelace she shifted, tucking one foot beneath her. "Good morning, by the way."

"Morning. Already working?"

"I'm gonna do a short photo tour of the track. I got some nice shots."

"You walked the track?"

"I woke up and couldn't go back to sleep, so… It's beautiful first thing in the morning."

Max nodded, picking up his coffee again. "Why couldn't you sleep?"

"Max, you should know that hotel beds suck. Especially with a three year old sleeping sideways and a snoring friend in the other bed. Is this where you tell me you slept great?"

"Haha, no. My sleep was shit but it wasn't because of the bed. I didn't get enough." He rubbed a hand over his face. "I was up late sim racing."

"Okay, explain sim racing to me," she requested, slipping one earbud in so she could check that the music she'd selected went well with the photos. Tweaking it as he began to talk, she realized she was barely paying attention to her work, exporting and posting the video to all the platforms then closing her laptop to focus on him. He talked with his hands. It was something she'd picked up on already, that if he was focused on the topic he used his hands. Maxplaining the fans called it. Finishing her coffee, she listened intently, propping her chin on one hand.

He smiled, almost shyly, as he finished. "It's something I truly enjoy. I'm not very sociable. I like going out once in a while, but I prefer to stay in, yeah? And I can spend hours in the sim without thinking twice."

"I spent the last few days watching a lot of interviews. Not just of you and Checo, but everyone on the grid," y/n said softly. "Leclerc talks about piano and his family, Norris talks about gaming and DJing, and Hamilton has his six hundred side projects."

"Yes?" He didn't look or sound impatient for her to get to the point, and she appreciated that.

"The thing is, they all have passions outside of racing. This – formula one, fastest cars, all that – is a goal, a dream, but they all have something else they love, that they can pursue now." She paused, meeting his eyes. "The only thing I've seen you passionate about is racing."

He blinked once, nodding his head. "Because it is my passion."

Y/n regarded him carefully for a moment. "You're very lucky, Max."

That must have surprised him, because his brow furrowed. "Why do you say that?"

"Not everyone is able to be successful following their passion. Being able to do what you love for both a job and hobbies is almost unheard of, yet you're doing it. You break records and win races and yeah you've had a few setbacks but you're still in love with this. And on your off time you're training to be better and studying tracks and you go home and race on your computer." She shook her head in amazement. "You're incredibly lucky, that your passion is not only something you're good at but something you can be immersed in nonstop, and that you haven't lost your love for it."

"I guess I am lucky," he said carefully. "But luck had nothing to do with me getting into formula one."

"I know." She held up her hands, not wanting him to think she thought he was in the position he was purely by chance. "I can't imagine how much work you've done over the years, or how many sacrifices you've had to make. It's just… In my experience, passion doesn't always equal financial stability is what I'm trying to say."

"What's that saying? Do something you love and you never work a day in your life?"

Y/n snorted. "That's bullshit. I love sleeping and yet I still have to work."

That made him laugh and she rolled her eyes, even though she enjoyed the sound. "Surely you love more than sleep."

"I love a lot of things. Maybe that's been my problem all my life. I find things and fall in love with them and when I think hey this might be it something new and shiny comes along and I fall in love with that."

"There's nothing wrong with being passionate about many things," Max said gently.

"That's what I keep telling myself. And yet—"

"Are you saying you don't love your job?"

She froze, a wave of panic rippling through her. "Uhmm… Since it's technically my first day I can't answer that."

"Okay. Do you love your social media?" he asked, leaning forward and resting his arms on the table.

The table which was, suddenly, smaller than she remembered.

"I like engaging others. I like creating conversations and seeing my work appreciated," she finally said.

"You sound like a PR person. Do you love it?" He enunciated each word slowly.

She couldn't say yes. The answer wasn't no, either, because she didn't hate it. "I personally hate it. But you've learned how to make it work for you, yeah? How to word things to spark a conversation among followers? What type of content people appreciate?"

"I like to think so."

"Stop being so unsure of yourself. You study it, right? At your last job when you posted a video and no one liked it what did you do? "

She exhaled harshly. "I compare it to ones that did well and pick it apart to see why it didn't work."

"Why?"

"Why?" she echoed.

"Why did you pick it apart?"

"Because I wanted it to do well," she said slowly.

"And these conversations you want to create, do you join in or sit and watch them happen behind the safety of your screen?" He reached over, gently turning her laptop so he could see the screen.

"I engage. I reply and ask questions to make the viewers want to keep the conversation going."

"Why?"

"Because—" She clicked the mouse, bringing up the comments below the video she'd posted to Instagram. "These comments? Come from people that love this brand – or sport. Some of them are trolls who just want to start up an argument to make their boring lives more interesting for a few minutes, but for the most part it's people who care. People who want to see this team do well. People who had the dream of doing it themselves but life got in the way. People who watched it with their parents and still watch to stay connected to someone they love. It's little kids who want to be like you. It's people who spend their hard earned money on a t-shirt or a hat or a ticket to see someone they admire live out their dream." She took a quick breath, scrolling through the comments. "If I don't like or respond to them, they feel like their opinions don't matter. And maybe they don't in the grand scheme of formula one. But they want to be seen and heard. When I click and they see that Red Bull Racing liked their comment or replied with an emoji or whatever, they have a few seconds of elation, and their support of this team is cemented just a bit more."

Max blinked at her, and she continued even though she heard him draw a breath to speak.

"I know very well how horrible social media can be. However, I've seen how it fosters growth for a company. You're not stupid, I'm sure you've seen how TikTok challenges or Instagram livestreams have brought in more support. Not to mention money. If a post of you wearing your Red Bull shirt gets a million likes, I can probably pull the data and show you that a hundred thousand people went to view the shirt on the official shop and probably twenty-five thousand ordered one. A silly picture of you arriving for race day or a new helmet design pulls people in and gets them excited. And, yes, it makes money. Which in turn pays the salaries of everyone on the team."

"Y/n."

She sucked in a breath. "I'm—"

"Passionate," he whispered before she could say sorry.

"I know what it's like to enjoy something and never feel included," she murmured. "So, yeah… I guess I love what I do, because I like that I can include people in something they love."

His hand covered hers briefly. "For a moment there, I even loved social media."

She watched his fingers squeeze hers before they slid away, wondering why his touch lingered. "Yeah?"

"It's easy to forget that there are real people saying nice things. Sometimes all you can see is the negativity."

"Negativity only breeds more negativity—"

"And when you look at it, it's all you'll see," he murmured.

"Well… So far everything I've posted today has been met with positivity."

"That's good."

"Okay, a few comments about wanting to see Lando on the podium. Thank you for letting me rant about why I do what I do," she said, glancing at his hand without meaning to.

"You let me do the same," he reminded her. Lifting his chin, he waited until she looked at him again. "Are you too busy to see what I was talking about?"

"I don't have anything scheduled until after lunch."

"Perfect." He lightly drummed on the table and stood. "Do you want to see my rig?"

"You do know I won't have a clue what anything but the computer and monitor are, right?" Smiling, she stood and began packing away her stuff.

Closing her laptop, he handed it over, catching her earbud when it fell off the edge of the table. "Maybe you'll like it so much you'll want one of your own."

*-*

He was rambling, he knew he was, telling her about the setup and his plan for the 24 hour race over the weekend and how he had everything scheduled so he could do two of the things he loved most. But he could tell she was paying attention, actually listening, as if she really cared. Rubbing his palms against his thighs, he finished and looked up at her.

"So this is your actual job and the f1 thing is just a hobby?" she teased.

Laughing, he got to his feet and got himself a can of Red Bull. "It's just racing, y/n."

"And racing is life."

"Absolutely." He watched her muffle a yawn behind her hand.

"Am I allowed to mention it in my posts? Because it sounds so badass. Sim race stint then qualifying, chug a Red Bull, sim race stint then race."

"You can mention it, not like it's a secret." He watched her hide another yawn and cleared his throat. "Looks like you need a Red Bull."

She shook her head. "Can I tell you a secret?"

Nodding, he checked the time. Just over an hour before he had to meet with his trainer. "Of course."

"I hate Red Bull," she whispered.

He choked on a laugh. "You what?"

"I've tried so many times! I can just about stomach one of the flavored editions, but the original? Tastes like battery acid to me." She looked embarrassed and covered her face with her hands. "Please don't tell anyone."

"You hate the drink. So you accepted a job with a team owned by the drink company." He wanted to laugh. It was so absurd to him.

"Yes," she groaned.

"That would be like me taking a job at Instagram."

"I know it's so bad. What makes it worse is I love Monster—"

"Of course you do," he said with a roll of his eyes.

"Please say you won't tell anyone. If corporate hears, I'll probably get fired. It's in my contract that I can only drink that while in pubic during race weekends which means I've got to either stick to water or learn to fake it."

"Your secret's safe with me," Max promised, breathing in the aroma of her perfume as she moved past him to get her bag.

"Thank you. I think Ellie would kill me if I told her I have to find a new job."

He didn't want her to go so soon. Ridiculous because he knew he'd see her in just a few hours. By the end of the weekend he'd be sick of seeing her. Sipping his drink, he finally sighed and cleared his throat. "You can take a power nap."

She whipped her head around, sending a wave of her perfume his way. "What?"

"A power nap." Before he could stop himself he was setting down his drink and taking her bag off her shoulder. "Thirty minutes, and you'll feel great."

"Max—"

"You need to be alert and focused, and I don't have a Monster for you to drink. Please, I insist." He motioned to his bed in the far corner, gently nudging her shoulder when she hesitated.

"You're sure?" she asked softly, and when he assured her he was she bent to take off her shoes, looking almost elated as she walked over to the bed. "Wait, I need to set an alarm."

"I'll wake you."

She lifted an eyebrow and he pulled out his phone to set a thirty minute timer. Satisfied, she sat on the edge of the bed, thanking him several times as she laid down and curled up on her side. "Thirty minutes."

"Thirty minutes," he murmured, sitting on the couch to answer emails. It was fifteen minutes before she stopped shifting and kicking, and when he heard her breathing even out he knew she was asleep. Resetting the timer, he stood and carefully pulled the blanket over her, then returned to the couch and tried his best to ignore that she was sleeping in his room.

Her phone started buzzing on the table. She didn't stir so he ignored it, focusing on his email. That was impossible though so he cleared out his unread texts, one foot bouncing each time he heard her breathe. A mistake. It had been a mistake. He jumped up when her phone began to buzz again and, glancing from it to her, he realized she would undoubtedly sleep through it. He picked it up and was about to silence it when he saw the name on the screen. Ellie. That was her friend that was helping with Kevin… Something could be wrong, so he answered the call and lifted the phone to his ear. "Hello?"

"Hey, we just— Who's this?"

"Max. This is Ellie?"

"…Yes…" The woman sounded wary. "Why are you – Oh! Max! Right of course. Um, is y/n okay?"

Max looked over at her, smiling faintly when she shifted. "She's fine. Taking a nap, actually."

Ellie snorted. "Of course she is."

"Is everything okay with Kevin?"

As though aware of the question, Kevin began chattering in the background. "Yeah, he's perfect. I was calling to let her know we just got here but I ain't got a clue where to go."

"Are you at the main entrance?" he asked, slipping out of the room so he wouldn't wake y/n. Ellie told him where they were and he nodded as he pulled out his own phone to text one of the team assistants. "You're going to walk down to the turnstiles, scan your passes and come through. Someone will be there to meet you and bring you to the motorhome."

"Ok perfect. Thank you so much."

"You're welcome. We'll be downstairs to meet you." Ending the call, he checked that the assistant was going to meet them then reentered his room. He closed the door and silenced his timer. "Y/n?"

She hummed in her sleep, and he smiled while he crossed over to the bed.

"Y/n," he called gently. She groaned, shifting to face away from him and it suddenly occurred to him that when he went to bed that night he would smell her on the pillow and the sheets. Maybe it hadn't been such a good idea, but it was too late now.

Would he be an asshole if he had his sheets changed before the end of the day?

Leaning down, he gently touched her shoulder. She inhaled sharply and he saw her eyes snap open. "You have company on its way," he said softly, tugging the covers back in case she tried to get comfortable again. His eyes swept down, locking on the skin bared by her shirt, which had ridden up in her sleep. "Come on, you had a nice nap, time to wake up."

"This bed is so much more comfortable than the one at the hotel," she mumbled, slowly sitting up and turning to face him. Smoothing down her shirt, she stretched and sighed, blinking as she focused on him. "Oh! Ellie and Kevin!"

He laughed as she leapt to her feet, his hands immediately moving to steady her. "It's fine, they haven't even made it to the paddock yet. I've sent someone to meet them."

"Oh," she murmured. "Thank you."

His hands were on her hips, and he forced his breathing to remain calm as she rested her hands on his forearms. The space, which had felt roomy and open, now felt tiny with how close she was to him. He was painfully aware of the scant space between them and each place their bodies touched, but more so of her. That heady floral scent of her perfume and the softness of her palms against his skin. The gentle lushness of her hips. He could hear every breath as his gaze traveled up from her hands to her face, lingering on her slightly parted lips before settling on her eyes. "You good?"

"Yep."

"Right. Sorry," he mumbled, releasing her hips and taking a step back. "I'll get your shoes."

What was wrong with him? It hadn't been so long that he got turned on like a teenager just from touching a woman… As he bent to retrieve her shoes he counted back, dragging a hand over his face in humiliation. What must she think of him? He'd brought her to his room, showed off his fancy toys, then let her sleep in his bed. She probably thought he wanted to fuck her—

You do.

—which couldn't be further from the truth. He was just being nice. Because she was nice. That was all.

Wasn't it?

And why, he wondered as he handed her shoes to her and told her about answering Ellie's call, did he care what she thought? Not caring was his specialty.

"How do you feel?" he asked, finishing his drink in one gulp.

"Refreshed. Thank you so much, Max." She tied her shoes and ran her fingers through her hair. Her lips moved but he didn't hear a word she said, watching her gather her hair and twist and twirl it, securing it with a band from her wrist.

Witchcraft.

"That okay with you?" she asked, slipping her phone into her pocket.

"Of course," he answered automatically.

She clapped her hands together. "Great! I'll put up a post asking for fan questions."

Max blinked, pinching his brows together. "Fan questions."

"Well we can't do an impromptu Q and A without questions." She had her other phone out now, fingers flying across the screen. "We'll do it this afternoon? Just let me know the best time."

Fuck's sake. What had he agreed to? More importantly, how had she gotten him to say yes? Everyone knew he had a low tolerance for marketing. He could take it back and say no, he couldn't do it today. He could tell her to get Checo to do it, that he would do it another time. He'd gotten out of marketing and social media stupidity without a problem plenty of times before. But he was already opening his calendar, going over his schedule, already telling her the open slot he had at 5, and was already putting Q and A with Y/n in that space.

"Perfect," she enthused, shouldering her bag and heading for the door, her fingers still tapping swiftly on the screen. "They should be here about now, right?"

Nodding, he followed her out the room and down, smiling when Kevin came through the front door with a woman he assumed was Ellie. The boy dropped her hand and sprinted over to y/n, who dropped down to hug him tightly. Max looked on, chest squeezing, searching for something that had been lacking, as mother and son talked and hugged, their words overlapping. They both understood each other perfectly, though, and he smiled at Kevin's excited retelling of what he'd had for breakfast. Introducing himself to Ellie, he reached to shake her hand.

"Mister Max!" The boy squealed.

"Kevin!" He was down in a split second, Ellie forgotten and chest constricting tighter as Kevin hugged him like a long lost friend.

"I saw two cats and a horse!" Kevin tugged at his shirt, grinning as he showed off his Red Bull merch.

"You did? What kind of cats?" he asked, taking the boy's cap and beginning to roll the brim for him while the boy described the cats and then the horse. Returning the cap, he enthused over animals, telling him about his own two cats and pulling out his phone to show him a few pictures.

"I miss Cotton," Kevin said with a small pout.

"Is that your cat?" Max saw his trainer approaching and gave him a quick nod.

"Yeah. We can't bring him to Eng-a-lund so Aunt Ellie's sister has him." Kevin's pout melted into a faint smile. "But she sends lots of pictures!"

"That's good. And maybe you'll be able to get him soon."

"Mama says it's s'pensive." The boy sighed as though he had to earn the money to bring his beloved cat to England.

"I know," Max sympathized. "Go with your mum, yeah? I've got to go train."

Kevin's face puckered in confusion. "Train? Like Shang?"

Y/n cleared her throat. "We watched Mulan on the flight last night."

"What did Shang do?" Max vaguely remembered the movie, but it had been years since he'd seen it.

"He made a man out of 'em."

"Okay, doodle bug, we have to let Max get his workout in," y/n said, flashing Max a smile. "If you ask another question he'll start singing the song."

Max stared at her then turned his attention back to Kevin. "What song?"

Because he had to. Because hearing her groan as her son began singing a song about being a man was priceless. And the dramatic way she hung her head when Ellie joined in made him laugh. Kevin giggled, cutting off his singing and looking at Max hopefully. "Will you watch it with me?"

"I—"

"Mister Max is too busy to watch a movie," y/n cut in.

"We'll watch it this weekend," Max promised, hating the sadness in the boy's eyes. Relieved when it disappeared in a flash, he gave him a high five and stood.

"Yay!"

He exchanged a look with y/n, who sighed and nodded, reaching for Kevin's hand. "I'll see you later," he said.

"5 o'clock," she reminded him as he headed out.

*-*

"So…"

Y/n groaned at Ellie's knowing tone. Watching as Kevin was snatched up by Lando so he wasn't crashed into by Charles in the impromptu game of football, she folded her arms over her chest. "So?"

"He had coffee with you."

God, here we go.

"Showed you his private room and his expensive computer setup… Let you take a nap in his bed—"

"He's just being nice," y/n insisted.

"And he's gonna take time out of his ridiculously busy weekend to watch a movie with Kevin." Ellie hummed, taking a sip of her tea.

Ignoring her, y/n looked on as Lando, Oscar, and Logan pretended to fight back the others while Kevin kicked the ball towards the goal. They were all shouting, dramatic and over the top, and above it all she heard the sweetest sound of her son's laughter. When the ball rolled into the net there was a roar that rivaled a championship game, and she joined in the cheering and applauding.

"You could do worse," Ellie murmured.

"Would you stop?" Y/n rolled her eyes, giving Logan a thumbs up when he gestured to the football and Kevin, understanding they wanted to have another quick game.

"He's cute."

"They all are," y/n muttered without thinking, lifting her camera for a few photos for her personal collection. Recognizing Checo when he suddenly appeared in the viewfinder, she snapped more photos, lowering the camera to watch.

"You know—"

"I can't wait for you to start your job so I can come and try to partner you up with a coworker," she huffed, snorting when Ellie gasped.

"You wouldn't."

"In a heartbeat."

"Besides, there's only one person in that group that's technically your coworker," Ellie said.

"I'm not here for that."

"I know." Ellie leaned against her briefly. "Wouldn't be me if I didn't encourage a delusion, though."

"Yeah…" Y/n laughed softly. "It's my first day, of course everyone's already in love with me."

"Exactly."

It was what she loved about Ellie. No matter what, she could make her laugh. Grinning, she watched Kevin bump into Oscar, who immediately collapsed with an exaggerated howl of pain, holding the leg that Kevin hadn't touched. "And they're all so good with kids."

"Total dad material, every one of them," Ellie agreed. "Not a stepdad, a dad who stepped up."

She choked on a laugh, playfully swatting her friend's arm. Because she knew Logan had overheard them. "Stop—"

"And probably more than willing to crack your back—"

"Oh my god." Clapping a hand over her face, she sensed someone approaching. "I have to work with these people."

"Only until they fuck a baby into you."

"Hey, y/n, your kid's so cool," Logan said.

Her face burned but she slowly pulled her hand away, giving him a weak smile. "Thanks."

He propped his hands on his waist, breathing heavy as he watched Kevin dart between Lando, Oscar, Checo, and Alex. "He always this energetic?"

"Fify-fifty. He's either like this or so quiet I worry he's up to something."

Logan chuckled. "Is he a troublemaker?"

"Nah, if he's quiet it's because he's focused on his cars or studying a bug."

"Christ! Get it away from me!"

Y/n's heart lurched at the sudden shriek from Lando, and she barely saw him sprinting away from her son, who was holding something in his hands.

"It's a frog, mate!" Oscar shouted behind him.

"Don't care!"

Kevin slowly walked over to y/n. "Mama, look!" he said, eyes shining with excitement. His cheeks were a little flushed from the hard play and he was giggling. "Mister Lando scared of a l'il frog."

"He's just not a country boy like you, honey," she soothed. "But maybe we should put the frog somewhere he'll be safe?"

"C'mon, Kev, I'll help you," Logan offered.

"Hmm," Ellie hummed once Logan had scooped Kevin up, cupping one hand over the boy's to keep the frog from jumping away.

"Shut it."

"I didn't say a word."

"Please, that hmm contained at least two paragraphs, ten innuendoes, and a pointed reference," y/n said, trailing behind Logan. Looking on as he set Kevin down near the tree line, she got a few pictures of them releasing the frog. She cringed when her son wiped his dirty hands on his shorts but Logan didn't seem to mind, lifting him up and carrying him back to her.

"He's free!" Kevin squealed. "Thanks, Mister Logan."

"Anytime, Kev." He tousled his curly hair after setting him down, flashing a shy smile at y/n.

She returned the smile, eyes following Kevin as he ran back to the game. "He's gonna pass out as soon as we get back to the hotel."

"He could probably run circles around all of us all night," Logan chuckled.

"True…"

"So like…" He cleared his throat. "Are you married?"

God, she loved Floridians. "No," she answered, turning to look at him. "Are you?"

"God no." He made a face at the thought. "So you're single?"

She nodded, already formulating how she would turn him down if he asked her out. She was too busy. Not interested in anything romantic at the moment. It never hurt to be honest, right? She couldn't lie and say she just had a messy breakup or—

"Would you be interested in – I'm not trying to hook up or anything," he said quickly when she opened her mouth. "Just, like, as a friend? I know how it is to feel like a fish out of water here. I'm kind of used to it but I can remember feeling like I was alone and surrounded by people who didn't understand my Americanisms."

"Oh." Aw. Damn it, she couldn't say no to that. "I… Yeah, sure, I'd like that."

He smiled. "Awesome. Maybe we can do something tomorrow after practice?" he suggested.

"Sure, sounds great. Text me?" she requested. Her phone alarm started going off and she pulled it out to silence it. "I gotta go. I'll see you later."

She waved to Ellie and mimed that she had to get some work done, waiting for her friend to wave back before making her way to the garage. While walking she got a message from one of the mechanics that the cars were photo ready and quickened her pace, envisioning the photos she would get of the mechanics and engineers. As she worked she asked questions, truly interested in what everyone did, a small idea forming that she'd run by Mr. Horner later. She knew that she would enjoy mini profiles on the team, with just the most basic of information like their names and where they were from. Maybe how long they'd been on the team, what had brought them to formula one…

"Thanks so much guys," she said as she finished up, declining the offer of a cold Red Bull. Her alarm went off again – twenty minutes to get ready to meet Max in the lounge back at the motorhome – and she switched off the camera, waving bye and turning to leave the garage.

She slammed into a human wall, grunting in surprise as she stumbled back. Twice in one day, really? The bump had caused the camera to slam against her ribs and she rubbed the spot gently. "I'm sorry! Wasn't looking where I was going."

She expected a chuckle, a reassurance that it was a hazard of the job. Maybe even an apology in return. Instead, the older man sneered at her, looking her up and down in such a way she felt like a child caught misbehaving. "You need to learn your place."

She gulped, fear prickling through her embarrassment. And even though she knew she hadn't done anything wrong, she found her mouth opening to apologize. "S-sorry."

"Horner know better than to hire amateurs," he muttered, scoffing. "He obviously didn't hire you for your looks."

She bristled at that. "I beg your pardon?"

"As you should." He brushed past her.

She felt weak. Clammy and cold. Shuddering slightly, she swallowed hard and left the garage, heading straight for the motorhome, where she was able to catch her breath. Who the hell had that been? He'd been wearing a Red Bull pass, so he had to be on the team. He was obviously important. She couldn't imagine him being considered her boss, not when everyone else had been so nice and—

"Ah, y/n, are you ready to do the Q and A?" Max asked.

Y/n felt her lungs burn and sucked in a breath, staring at the cup of coffee she'd made herself. "Y-yeah, I'll meet you up on the deck?"

Please go up, please go up, please go—

"What's wrong?"

Goddammit.

"Y/n?" He looked and sounded concerned, and she ducked her head as he walked over. "Hey…"

"I'm fine," she lied.

"You're a terrible liar," he said, leaning against the counter. "What happened?"

"Nothing, I'm just overreacting." Rubbing her hand over her face, she shook her head and reached for the coffee. "Just a run-in with an asshole."

"But I haven't seen you in three hours." Max's lips barely twitched at the corner.

"Not you, a different asshole." She felt her cheeks burn and groaned. "I'm not saying you're an asshole!"

"You don't have to, I already know I can be an asshole at times." Folding his arms over his chest, he met her eyes. "Who was it?"

"That's the thing, I don't even know. I was coming out of the garage – You know, I went down to get pics of the mechanics? Anyway, I was about to text you about the Q and A and wasn't looking where I was going and bumped into him."

"Who?"

"I don't know. Older, kinda tall? Sour faced." She raised a hand to the man's approximate height. "I apologized and he told me I need to learn my place, then said I was an amateur and Horner obviously didn't hire me for my looks – I didn't ask his name because I was in shock. All I know is he had a Red Bull pass."

Max's brow furrowed, and she felt him tense. Then, to her surprise, he described the man perfectly.

"Yeah, that's him." She bit her lip. "You know him?"

"Unfortunately," he muttered. "It's my dad."

"Oh." Y/n looked down at her coffee. "Sorry."

"Me too." He sighed, pushing away from the counter. "Don't listen to him, yeah? You have more right to be here than he does, and you're not an amateur. As much as I hate social media, even I can tell that you're excellent at your job."

"Thank you," she whispered. "I just… I've spent my entire adult life working to improve myself and discover my own worth as a human being, and I can give other women empowering pep talks, but I still freeze when a man that thinks he's better than me talks down to me."

"Fuck him," Max said simply. "He's not your boss, he can't control anything you do in your life."

"Either you're really trying to make me feel better or you really don't like your dad," she murmured. When he didn't reply, she slowly lifted her gaze. Seeing the muscle in his jaw twitch, she felt a pang of sympathy. If the man had been that rude to her, a stranger, she couldn't begin to imagine what he'd been like to his own son.

"If he speaks to you like that again, you let me know."

"I don't want to cause a fuss—"

"Not wanting to cause a fuss is why he thinks he can get away with it," Max pointed out. "I'll speak to Christian—"

"Max, no, it's literally my first week!"

"Which is why you have to set boundaries now. He'll either treat you with the respect you deserve or he'll be banned from the paddock."

Y/n blinked in shock. "You'd have him banned?"

"In a heartbeat." The look on his face told her he was serious, from the determined set of his jaw to the way he kept his eyes level with hers. "So either you mention it to Christian in the team meeting or I will."

"God," she groaned, knowing that this had to be just one tiny item among a long list of infractions for Max to want him banned. "Okay. I'll tell him before the team meeting tomorrow."

"Good. Come, let's do the Q and A. You ready?" he asked, taking her empty cup and throwing it away.

"Yeah." Grateful for the distraction, she walked to the stairs with him. "I did a clip of you looking confused and posted it on TikTok and Instagram that went viral because I captioned it When You Ask Max Verstappen About Anything But Racing. Oh and I found out Tumblr fans love making gifs of you laughing. Twitter likes making memes out of your face. Whereas Facebook is mostly a bunch of boomers commenting about how I'm ruining the integrity of the sport."

"I really do hate social media," he snorted.

"And that is why I'm doing social media," she teased. Halfway up the stairs, she slowed, turning to look at him. "Thank you, Max."

"For hating social media? You're welcome."

taglist

@spookystitchery | @halleest | @lyannesworld | @llando4norris

#f1 #f1 fic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #max verstappen #max verstappen fic #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #my writings > mv > rulebreaker

859 notes · View notes