#took off the glasses to see this bullshit better

[iamred-iamyellow]

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ Bad Blood

♥ masterlist | request rules | based on this request

♥ pairing: franco colapinto x fem!driver!reader

♥ synopsis: tensions started rising in the williams garage when bad strategies pitted you and your teammate, franco against each other. after spotting him in a bar the night of a race the two of you bonded over your shared bad result. 

♥ one-shot - wc: 1.6k

♥ as always none of the pictures are mine <3

♥ warnings: swearing, drinking, and vaguely suggestive !!!

♥ a/n: rivals to lovers + forced proximity, go nuts babe. btw there’s some salty team vibes so i just wanna say i love williams (except james) this is purely for the plot lol

“Plan B, Y/n. Plan B,” you engineer said on the radio of your car.

”Is Franco undercutting me?” you asked, shifting down into a corner.

“We think this is the best decision point-wise.”

“You’re joking.”

“Y/n stick to the strategy, you’ll get your time eventually.” they responded.

“No this is bullshit. What advantage are you giving him? He can’t chase down Kmag any better than I can—at least he doesn’t have the pace right now. I don’t see why you’re making him the priority.”

You reached the end of the main straight watching as your teammate exited the pit lane in front of you.

He was on hard tires, an extremely odd choice for the end of this race. You were trying to complete the last 20 laps on softs while your teammate tried to make up positions on the opposite compound. Wait why the fuck would they put him on those tires? If they were aiming for an undercut, they were certainly going to fail with this strategy. 

You dove down into the apex and collided with Franco, who was turning in front of you. You both spun out into the gravel, ending your race. 

It was always like this. Somehow you always found yourself competing against Franco no matter where you went. 

“Fuck,” you yelled on the radio as you threw your HANS device outside of the car. 

“Are you okay?” your engineer questioned.

“Yup, yeah I’m fine.” you responded. 

The Williams team could hear faint breathing from Franco. 

“Is she ok?” he asked. 

“Yes, are you?”

“Yeah, I am.”

-

You scrolled through your phone in your driver's room, coming across a couple of posts about the situation.

@fcswife “is she okay?” FRANCO THE MAN THAT YOU ARE 😭❤️

@charlesgf16 she really has zero respect for franco huh?

@francodefender1 how could anyone hate him? 😩

You rolled your eyes and clicked off the device, throwing it onto a different cushion on the couch. You were going to need a drink. 

-

Later that night you retreated to a bar you were unfamiliar with. A couple of F2 drivers in your circle mentioned it in passing and considering you couldn't fluently speak the language of the country you were visiting, you hoped to run into a few people you knew.

The room was dark, loud, and packed. You could hear music playing over the sound of dozens of drunk voices. You pushed your way through the crowd of people towards the front of the bar in order to get a drink.

You spotted a familiar face when you arrived. To your dismay it was the only person you wished not to talk to at that moment. His brown curls were immediately identifiable and if that wasn't enough, the fluorescent lighting illuminated his face, drawing your eyes towards the small mole on his cheek.

You looked around for a place to avoid him, but all the booths were taken and the only open bar stool was the one next to Franco.

Because of course it was.

You sighed and took the seat next to him, trying your hardest to avoid eye contact.

"A bottle of Dom Perignon please," you asked, causing Franco to snort.

“What?” you shifted your gaze towards him.

“Champagne is for winners,” he said, looking you straight in the eye.

It wasn’t like he was incorrect. Champagne was for the podium—but you had a long day and it was time to treat yourself. Regardless, you rolled your eyes at the man’s comment.

Franco waved over the bartender to get a glass and help himself to the bottle of alcohol.

“You can venmo me,” you said only half joking as he poured himself some champagne.

A small tv in the corner of the bar had a replay of the race and press.

”There were a lot of emotions definitely, uhm I think the decisions tire wise for the strategy weren’t great. It’s frustrating to see the prioritization of your teammate but I guess I have no input on whether that goes to me or Franco each race. We had a rough week overall as a team but I hope we can bounce back.”

“As much as I hate to agree with you… you were right. Both our strategies were fucked.” he said referencing your post race interview, “They screwed us both.”

The two of you never really got along, but at least neither blamed each other for the crash. It was just a racing incident and it didn’t have to prevent you from finally having a civil conversation with Franco.

“To screwing us both,” you smiled while raising your glass of champagne, eliciting a chuckle out of him.  

He clinked his cup to yours with a smirk and took a small sip. 

From that point on your distaste for him slowly started to die down and you began to have a mutual understanding.

-

The next race went over far smoother than the last. Franco ended up in P5 with you right behind him in P6; an incredible result for the two of you and the team.

You jumped out of your car and strolled your way over to his. The camera picked up on you patting his helmet and mumbling something.

Of course this was going to be all your media feed would show for the next few days.

-

That night you found yourself at a far more tame pub than the last.

“From the gentleman across the bar,” a server said, causing you to look up from your phone and towards the direction he was pointing. 

Franco was leaning against the counter with a grin. He raised his eyebrows quickly and waved.

You took a sip of the cold blue drink in front of you and waved back. His eyes stayed locked on you as you pulled out your phone and unblocked a number.

You 

is there red bull in this? 

+1800******

yea 

You got a text back immediately, prompting you to change the contact name. 

You

i think that’s a sin

Franco

oh?

You

yea if i can’t drive it i shouldn’t be drinking it  

Franco

i guess it’s too bad williams doesn’t make energy drinks

You

come sit with me

-

Tensions were still high on track between the two of you but the minute race weekend was over it was like someone flipped a switch.

A few weeks flew by and people started to notice your behavior towards Franco. By now there were probably dozens of pictures of you looking very cozy together at parties, but not getting along at the circuits or simply ignoring each other in the paddock.

Of course people were getting suspicious. Maybe this was a ruse to keep your relationship a secret? Maybe it was all staged for Netflix. Or maybe—you two didn’t really know what you were.

-

“Che,” a voice called out to you in spanish, instantly grabbing your attention.

You spotted Franco in a booth at the back of the club. It was far darker in that corner, but with the flashing lights and loud music you were glad he picked a more secluded area.

The building was full with the familiar faces of drivers and team members.

”Look at you,” he said, impressed.

You laughed and did a small spin, showing off your dress. You knew he’d liked it and by the memory you had earlier this evening, it seemed as though a lot of people would.

”Another date with Franco, huh?” Kika smirked while putting on some dangly earrings. “It’s not a date,” you protested. She spun her body around to face you. “This,” she gestured to your outfit. “Is for a date.”

You slid into the booth next to him, setting your black clutch purse beside you.

Franco’s hand firmly grabbed your thigh to steady himself as he shifted closer towards you. Your eyes darted down to the action but he didn’t seem to notice. His grip loosened as he settled and he started rubbing small circles with the pad of his thumb.

A small hum escaped your lips, barely audible over the music and voices, but there was no way in hell your soft noises wouldn’t catch his attention.

”¿Esto está bien?” (is this ok?) he asked in a whisper, causing you to only nod.

His face moved closer to yours, and you wasted no time cupping his cheeks in your hands, and connecting your lips.

You melted into the kiss knowing damn well you daydreamed about this an embarrassing amount.

His tongue swiped over your bottom lip, tasting the gloss you applied earlier. You opened your mouth to allow him entrance and he dragged his fingertips further up the inside of your thigh.

Franco moved down to your neck leaving soft, open-mouthed kisses. His index and middle fingers brushed the lace of your lingerie, causing him to smirk against you.

“Stand up,” he demanded. He slipped out of the booth and pulled you onto your feet. You grabbed your clutch as he guided you through the crowd, hand-in-hand.

He opened the chiming door and the two of you stepped onto the wet cobblestone. Your heels clicked on the ground as he guided you to his car in the rain.

He pulled open the passenger seat door for you.

“Wow, we weren’t even in there a couple of minutes,” you stated.

“I think we’ve had enough time to talk… quiero llevarte a casa…” (i want to take you home) he leaned down and mumbled to you.

“O en este caso mi hotel,” (or in this case my hotel) “unless you’d rather go back inside..” he trailed off.

You shook your head in protest to his last works and a light chuckle slipped through his lips.

”Alright then,” he smirked, getting into the drivers seat.

[evilminji]

"DO BETTER!" Says Now Televised Fanboy

He, Dash Baxter is a Phan-Stan!! It's kinda his thing. See, he's a fancy ass talk show host now. Married Paulie, moved out of Amity, actually DID something with his life. His parents? Did not approve. Long n short of it? He got kicked out.

Paulie's parents were PISSED.

Retaliated by giving him all the help he needed getting EVERY scholarship he qualified for. He went to a really nice college. Missed his girlfriend like mad. But she was off in Metropolis, terrifying weaker men. Conquering the fashion scene.

And SOMEHOW? Thanks to that long talk he had with Phantom (*incoherent fanboy gibbering noises* SO COOL!) he's worked to be... more of a LEADER, you know? Less of an asshole. Cause he's popular. People copy him. He can't be an asshole.

So, somehow, when he's punching out some try-hard that thinks he's hot shit for bullying a Nerd? He and the nerd get talking, right? Cause the guy got his glasses completely fucked up. And it's what Phantom would do.

But GET THIS? Guy's never HEARD of Phantom! Is super curious, cause he runs a small time Hero's show on the web. And, Dude? Is it your LUCKY DAY! Cause you just met THE number 1 fan of Phantom, hands down!! He makes his VERY spirited case, about why Phantom is THE best Hero to ever have lived. And this guy?

Entranced.

In AWE.

Just straight up BEGS him to join his show. Cause apparently? He was BORN for it. Which? Yeah. He HAS been giving speechs to the team for YEARS now. And Talking at fan meet ups. Leading fan meet ups. Hosting parties... actually, now that he thinks about it? He DOES do a lot of public speaking? Huh.

But still, he's about to say "no", when?

Dude mentions? He'll get to talk about Phantom.

SOLD!

It. Blows. Up. Absolutely EVERYONE is in love with his pretty face, hot bod, and STRONG opinions. But they ALSO have no idea who Phantom is! Paulie! This is CRIMINAL! Horrifying! What is going ON!?

Some bullshit information black out, apparently. At least according to her... friendly Nemesis? The Goth Dweeb. Who's engaged, apparently? So good for her. Unsurprisingly, it's too the OTHER Dweebs, but still. Bout time she started planning to drag them to a court house. She's the only one with any spine in that group! If she waited for THEM to propose?

Not even as Ghosts, man.

They'd get distracted by shiny nerd shit and whimp out.

Still... a world where NO ONE knows how Awesome, Phantom is? Not on HIS watch!

So he works it in. To every segment. It becomes "his thing". Oh? Super man saved a kitten from a tree? Cute. Well PHANTOM saved a bus full of Ghost Puppies from a shady, rouge, Goverment agency. Do BETTER, Superman!

The Flash, who is a cheap knock-off and stole his name, took down an Ice Villian? Adorable! PHANTOM stopped a Rouge WINTER SPIRIT with the help of YETI WARRIORS then assisted in giving FREE medical care for anyone who needed it! Here's a picture of him making GHOST ICE SNOWMEN for small children! Do BETTER, Knock-off!

What's THAT you say? Wonder Woman fought a GOD in down town paris?

Excellent work Wonder Woman. Flawless as always. But YOU, god-boy, are a disappointment! All that power! And WHAT do you use it for? Are you even supposed to BE here?? PHANTOM uses his power to HELP people! Is awesome and knows TONS of better gods! You're just salty you didn't make the cut!

DO BETTER!

And obviously? No one believes him. There's no record of this "Phantom" guy. The pictures look fantastical and vaguely glitchy/glowy. Not quite right. They GOTTA be photo shopped. Manipulated somehow. But? As a shtick? A fake "perfect Superhero" is kinda funny and unique.

And it's one hell of Fake Hero!

A Dead Champion? Who fights gods and monsters? Rouge agencies? Sassy and tragic? With a mysterious past? Pretty cool! There's even an Offical Comic from some guy that went to the same high-school as Baxter!

Of course, as Baxter get more and more popular? The "meme" hero, Phantom, get more well known? People get more interested in where Dash grew up. You know, just a bored Google. Maybe see if the hero was based off a local legend or something. But... huh...

The Town website?

Weirdly? Sanitized.

Like... like aggressively sanitized. All smooth edges and no details. Very "move along, citizen". Ha ha... it's part of the joke right? They get it! They'll just look up local restaurants or som-....

Wait...

Hey, guuuuys?

Are you finding ANYTHING?

And! Nothing. And I do mean NOTHING! Triggers the "oh? Secrets???" Instincts of a Hacker, like finding a hard blank wall of "KEEP OUT". Especially when it's somewhere it rightfully shouldn't BE.

All it would take? Is ONE person, of decent skills and an account on Certain Forums, getting bored enough to Google the Dude On The TV(TM)? For the GIW's lil walls to come crashing down. Because yeah, you can stop ONE hacker. Even two. Probably five or six.

But how about thousands?

Hundreds of thousands?

From every time zone. Competing. Just to see what you HAVE and don't want them to see. Maybe they do something with it, maybe they don't. But fuck it, you're being RUDE and now they're CURIOUS. And THEN? Oh. Oh holy shit.

Not a meme.

Very real.

Not a joke.

The walls come crumbling down, down, down. Ripped apart by hundreds of hands. Emails sent to every sort of agency. The JLU line inundated with emergency tips. Not a joke. Not A Joke. Holy Shit, IT WASN'T A JOKE!

Phantom is REAL!

And there, on TV, stands the Man. The signal FINALLY breaching containment. Fighting off the invading God of the week. Built like statue, hair like an aurora borealis of white fire held almost delicately in place by a CROWN of ice, a suit made of void and starlight. Inhuman. Beyond human.

Here to help.

A laugh that crackles like ice and the snap of winter, rolls through the air like coming storms, rich and somehow warm. A smile that bares teeth, yet turns so KIND when he looks upon humanity, as though we are precious and worth fighting for. A living star.

A... a once living star.

And in the center of it all? Wearing his BESPOKE, custome made, Number 1 Phan full body outfit? That's right. Dash Baxter. Ha! You fuckers doubted him! Behold his blorbo and WEEP, ya fuckin casuals! The BESTEST of boys! The FINEST of Heros! Superman? Could NEVER.

And now? The weather!

@babbling-babull @nerdpoe @the-witchhunter @ailithnight @hypewinter @hdgnj @mutable-manifestation

[seungkw1]

better late than never — kmg

♡ pairing: kim mingyu x afab!reader ♡ theme: smut [18+ mdni], best friends to lovers, non-idol au ♡ wc: 2.7k ♡ warnings: size kink, oral (f. receiving), fingering (f. receiving), riding, unprotected piv sex (stay safe y’all), creampie, mingyu is a boob guy, praise kink if u squint ♡ a/n: written for my bestie <3 and posting just in time for his birthday - happy mingyu day!!

knock-knock-knock-knock

“come on! let me in!!” 

you approach your front door, but you don’t unlock it yet. 

“what happened to the copy of my key i gave you?” you inquire to the voice on the other side. 

“i forgot it!” 

you turn the deadbolt, opening the door to reveal the man standing outside - the look on his face is sheepish as he stands there, arms full of grocery bags. 

“kim mingyu i asked you to get me three things, not the entire store,” you say incredulously. 

“i saw your fridge the other day. you literally only had cheese, beer, and a jar of pickles in there,” he retorts, shooting you a judgemental look. 

“the three main food groups.”

mingyu rolls his eyes as he enters your apartment. “whatever, i'm cooking you dinner. a real dinner.”

“aye aye captain,” you say as you jokingly salute him. 

you met mingyu freshman year of college, when he burst through the door of your dorm room - thinking it was his own (he was on the wrong floor). his eyes turned wide as saucers as he realized his mistake. 

“SORRY,” he blurted out before fleeing out of the room. he was gone before you had even processed what happened. 

the next day he returned - this time knocking first. you opened the door to see the tall man, holding two packs of ramen. 

“sorry about yesterday,” he apologized, still a bit embarrassed. “i'm an idiot and thought i was on the sixth floor.”

“you're not an idiot, mistakes happen. it's okay,” you assured him amiably. 

“thanks, i’m glad you’re not mad at me or anything,” he replied with a smile. he extended the ramen to you. “it’s not much but i just… felt like i should bring a gift for some reason?” he told you, looking like he was second guessing himself as the words came out of his mouth. 

“ooo it’s the good kind too,” you replied eagerly as you took the ramen from him. “you wanna have one right now?”

he looked surprised, but delighted at your suggestion. 

“actually that would be awesome, those were my last two,” he admits with a laugh. you grin back at him. 

“well, come on in. again.”

–

and so mingyu inadvertently became your best friend. if not for the dorm incident, you probably never would have even crossed paths with him - he was your typical business bro, while you were majoring in psychology and literature. but, something just clicked between you two. 

a handful of years later now, he’s still your closest friend. and here he is, in your kitchen, grabbing the appropriate pots, pans, and utensils to get started on his spaghetti carbonara. as independent of a person as you are, you're not particularly the best chef - so you're grateful for his culinary expertise and willingness to make food for you. 

over dinner, mingyu is his usual chatty self. he tells you about his day, about how his neighbor has picked up the irritating hobby of learning to play the trumpet, about the dog he met yesterday while at the park, about his new coworker who seems to like him a little too much. 

“well, is she cute?” you ask nonchalantly, swirling the wine in your glass.  

“huh?” your question seems to catch him off guard. “i don't know. i mean, i've never thought about it.”

“bullshit,” you tell him, taking a big sip. 

“it's true!”

“right. well think about it, is she?”

“she's conventionally attractive i guess. i don't know why it matters though,” he says sincerely. 

“well if she likes you and she’s cute, you should ask her out.”

“that would be extremely unprofessional,” he scoffs, appalled at your suggestion. “besides, she's not my type.”

“what, is she weird or something?”

“no. and besides, i like weird. but i definitely don't see her like that.”

“what do you mean, you like weird?” you ask, raising your eyebrow. 

“i mean, you’re weird. and i like you.” he says it matter-of-factly, as if he was telling you the grass is green. 

“okay well obviously you don't want to date me,” you reply, rolling your eyes. “but come on, you haven't dated anyone in years. i'm trying to help to you here.”

the expression on his face changes, but you can't quite decipher what he’s thinking. 

“i don't need help.”

you give him a weird look. 

“not like that!” he quickly insists. “i just mean, don't worry about me, i’m fine.”

“ooookay, whatever you say gyu.”

his face remains calm, but you notice the corners of his mouth twitch upward slightly. normally, he’s not a fan of the nickname, but you know you're the only one who's allowed to call him that. he’s told you before. 

“well, what about you?” he asks suddenly. 

you look at him while chewing a big bite of pasta, confused. “what about me what?”

“are you, like… seeing anybody these days?” 

he speaks timidly, as if treading on eggshells. 

“why? are you asking me out?”

“ha ha, very funny,” he says sarcastically. he then shrugs. “i was just curious.”

“i actually did go on a date last week,” you admit. he looks up, surprised. 

“really? how'd it go?”

“surprisingly, really good,” you tell him.

“that's good. you have a long history of terrible first dates.”

“it was a second date, actually.”

mingyu pauses. “and you didn't tell me about the first one? fake as hell.”

“oh shut the fuck up,” you tease back, grinning at him. 

he picks up the bottle of wine sitting on the table. “should we finish this?” he asks. 

“duh.”

he removes the cork, pouring you another glass before refilling his own. 

after the delicious meal, you begin to clean up the kitchen, but mingyu quickly gets up and takes the dishes from your hands. 

“i got it.”

“you did all the cooking, let me do it,” you tell him. 

“nope,” he insists, already scrubbing plates. 

you help anyway, but mingyu is fast. the kitchen is sparkling within ten minutes. 

“damn, this looks better that it did before you got here,” you remark as you start the dishwasher. 

“don't go on a third date.”

you freeze. you look back at mingyu - he's reclining against the kitchen counter. his face, sincere. 

“what?” you ask hesitantly. 

“i said, don't go on a third date.”

he rises, walking toward you. he stops inches away from you, extending his arms, leaning his palms on the counter on either side of you. his face hovers above yours, his warm eyes locked onto yours. 

“gyu, are you drunk?” you ask, knowing full well he's not. your heart is suddenly pounding. 

“i'm not.” he brings his hand up to your chin, tilting your face upwards. “can i kiss you?”

you’re stunned, standing motionless, breathing deeply as he strokes your jawline softly with his thumb. sure, you’d thought about the possibility of dating mingyu before. more than once, even. and you figured he’d probably thought about dating you before. but truly, you never thought he had serious feelings for you. 

but here you are, pinned against your kitchen counter by your best friend. your best friend, who happens to be incredibly attractive. and the way your heart is racing - you really do want to kiss him right now. 

you try to think logically, rationalizing whether this is a good decision, but the emotional part of your brain takes control. you kiss him. you kiss him - and he kisses you, and you stand there, in your best friend’s arms, kissing each other, as if you'd both been waiting for this moment for years. and deep down, you know you have been. 

mingyu grabs hold of you, pulling you up onto the counter. you wrap your arms around his waist, running your hands slowly up and down his torso, feeling his toned body through his soft shirt. he caresses you gently, kissing you still - you're suspended in time, just the two of you, bodies connected like never before. you suddenly cannot believe you've spent years with this man and never once made out with him - but better late than never. 

he softly brings his hands to your sides. your lips finally part - you instantly miss the sensation. he slides his hands under your shirt, pausing right before he reaches your breasts.  

“can i touch them?” he asks, his voice breathy. you nod fervously. he caresses your over your bra, kissing you again as he squeezes your tits in his large hands. you inadvertently let out a soft moan. mingyu grabs the hem of your shirt and pulls it off of you. he looks at you in awe. 

“you're so perfect.” 

he is utterly gushing and swooning over you right now. you feel your heart skip a beat. 

you slip your hands under his shirt, running your hands over his abs and chest. he pulls his shirt off too, standing there before you. you've seen mingyu shirtless before, but not like this. his muscles are striking, perfectly sculpted - his golden, sunkissed skin glows beautifully. you feel a sudden, strong carnal urge to lick him, kiss him, bite him all over. 

you look up at him - the look in his eyes reciprocating your desire. you hop off the counter, taking his hands in yours. you pull his arms, tugging him in the direction of your room. his cheeks turns flush as he realizes your intent - a roguish grin spreads across his face, revealing his pointy canines you’ve always loved.

mingyu wastes no time taking your pants off as you throw yourself onto the bed, reclining against the soft pillows. he gazes at you lustfully as you lay there in your lingerie, unzipping his pants and pulling them off as fast as humanly possible. you feel throbbing in your core at the sight of him standing there - his light gray underwear doing absolutely nothing to disguise the prominent erection underneath. 

he crawls into bed, his body hovering above yours. you wrap your arms around his broad torso, pulling his large frame into yours as you begin to move your hips, grinding against his cock - the wet spot on your panties grows as you rub your cunt against him. it was clear from the moment he took his pants off that he is big, but feeling its length, its thickness, against your clothed pussy is making you clench around nothing - making you wish you were clenching around him instead. 

mingyu gently grabs your arms, pinning them next to your head as he interlocks his fingers with yours. his lips lightly graze against yours. 

“are you sure you want to do this?” he asks softly. you nod immediately. 

“yeah.”

he buries his head into the crook of your neck, kissing you repeatedly. he gradually makes his way down your body, his hands moving to take your bra off, but he pauses.

“can i-”

“you can do whatever you want to me,” you interject.

you feel his cock twitch. “oh god, don't tell me that.”

he unclasps the hook, letting out a moan at the sight of your bare tits. immediately he takes your nipple in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the hardened bud before taking it between his lips. he sucks on your tit like his life depends on it - his hand squeezing and pinching the other as his cock grinds against your core. you're gone already - a moaning mess, putty in his hands. he eventually switches sides, cool air hitting the wetness remaining on your nipple. you get the feeling mingyu could suck your tits forever. 

he eventually moves on, planting kisses down your stomach as he situates himself between your legs. he kisses your inner thighs - slowly approaching your core, but not touching you just yet. you whimper as he finally touches his lips to your clit over your thoroughly wet underwear. he licks you slowly, his tongue running over the thin fabric several times before he slips his finger underneath, pulling your underwear aside, exposing your soaked core. he groans at the sight of it. 

“fuck, just as pretty as i imagined.”

you part your lips to say something, but your words become lost - instantly replaced with cries of pleasure as he begins eating you out. you run your fingers through his hair, grasping onto it as he sucks repeatedly on your clit. he places a large hand on your belly, applying pressure, as he takes two fingers to your pussy, slipping them in with ease. you moan as he begins to fuck you, your hips beginning to buck. 

“more,” you beg. 

you cry out as he adds a third finger - your cunt has never felt so full, but you know this is nothing compared to how his cock would feel in you. he continues sucking your clit, heat rising in your lower stomach as you feel yourself nearing orgasm. you writhe in pleasure, screaming mingyu’s name as he makes you cum - and he makes you cum hard. 

your head spins as you come down from your powerful high. as you catch your breath mingyu crawls back up, laying against you, his radiant body heat making your skin turn hot. he strokes your cheek, pressing his lips hungrily against yours once more. 

“can you… will you ride me?”

your pussy throbs at the mere thought. wordlessly you nod. mingyu reaches down, sliding your panties off before discarding his own underwear. you gasp softly as his cock springs free. you reach down, taking hold of it - its size making your hand appear tiny in comparison. he leans his head back, sighing as you stroke his length, your palm becoming wet with his precum.

you give him a push, rolling over on top of him. his tip grazes your wet cunt as you straddle him, his eyes locked onto yours intensely. you sit up, taking his cock in your hand, rubbing it against your folds a few times, before finally slipping it inside. you slowly lower yourself onto it, whining softly as its thickness stretches you. mingyu groans as you bottom out, sitting entirely on his cock. you haven’t even moved yet, but his breathing is heavy, inhaling deeply as he reaches up to grab onto your breasts. you begin to ride him, slowly moving your hips up and down, his cock filling you up beyond anything you could’ve imagined. you gradually increase your pace, both of you moaning at the overwhelming sensation, until you are fully bouncing on his cock, your palms resting against his muscular chest to steady yourself as you unravel over him. 

mingyu begins to whimper. “you’re so fucking hot,” he utters between heavy breaths. “you’re gonna make me cum.” 

you ride him relentlessly, crying out at how good he feels inside you. his eyes close as he releases, thrusting his hips powerfully as he cums in your pussy - the warmth of his cum filling you up. your pace slows, riding him gently as he finishes, his moans tapering off as he begins to come down. you settle onto his cock, laying on him as you kiss him. he kisses you back lovingly, one hand running through your hair, the other caressing the small of your back. you lay there for a while, his chest rising up and down as he breathes deeply. your heartbeat slows, pounding heavily in your chest as you recover.

slowly, he finally pulls out. you roll to his side, wrapping your arms around him in a warm embrace, squeezing him with all your might. he giggles. 

“mingyu?” you ask softly after several moments of silence.

“hm?”

“you should’ve told me sooner.”

he sighs. “i wanted to - many times. but i didn’t want to risk our friendship. i didn’t think you felt the same way.”

“i think… i think i’ve always loved you. i just never realized it.”

mingyu smiles. he gives you a kiss on the forehead.

“so… what does this mean? for us,” he asks you.

you look up - his warm eyes are fixated on you, optimistic, awaiting your answer.

“well, i really don’t think anything is going to change.” a nervous look washes over his face - you quickly add, “except that we fuck now and also i want you to be my boyfriend.”

he closes his eyes, letting out a laugh. he pulls you closer into his embrace.

“i like the sound of that.”

–

[m-musings]

Crawl Out Through the Fallout with Me: Cooper "The Ghoul" Howard X Fem! Reader

A/N: never played an official fallout game in my life but i still love this man so it's time to bullshit some stuff, let's gooooooo

Word Count: 1.1k

Summary: After a fight with raiders, a argument between lovers ensues when one of them gets hurt.

Warnings: typical fallout vibes, mentions of fighting, blood and wounds, pre-established relationship, Cooper being Cooper but also being a bit ooc, this is cheesy as hell and def not canon compliant lmao

"Damnit, (Y/n), just what the hell were you thinkin'?!"

An upset voice rang out into the evening air of the Wasteland as a pair of figures rested up inside the crumbling walls of an abandoned building.

Lit by the fading light of the sun, (Y/n) hissed in pain as her irradiated companion tried to sew a sizable gunshot wound on her arm shut.

As he passed the needle back and forth through the gash, the girl rolled her eyes with an exasperated groan as a few rivulets of blood rolled down her arm.

"Gimme a break, Coop! Did you wanna be the one to be shot?! I don't- ow!- think so!"

During a journey to find their next cash-out, the partners were ambushed by a large group of raiders & fiends. After managing to get rid of most of them, one had managed to sneak up and send a bullet flying straight for Cooper.

Noticing the weapon before Cooper could even turn to see the shooter, (Y/n) dashed over and shoved the ghoul out of the path of the shot, causing her arm to be hit instead.

Now- a few hours after killing the remaining enemies- they took shelter in a decrepit shack in order to patch themselves up in peace and rest for the night.

"I'd still be better off than you are right now. I mean, for fucks sake, darlin', I'm a ghoul. I've been through worse than just being shot at."

"Well then, that's the last time I try to be helpful. Next time, I'll sit back and relax while you get absolutely slaughtered by raiders, how about that?!"

"Go right on ahead, see if I care! Now, hold still. Can't close this cut if you keep on squirmin' around." Cooper huffed as he gave the suture one final tug before snipping the end off with a pocket knife and tying it into a knot.

After he was finished, (Y/n) rolled the pain out of her bicep before reaching into her bag to grab a somewhat clean cloth to wipe up any remaining blood.

With a sputter of her lips, she got up from her spot next to Cooper to sit upon the old mattress in the other corner of the room in order to apply a stimpak to herself. It wouldn't be enough to heal the wound completely but it would be enough for her to be able to use her arm properly.

Satisfied with the sight of her flesh knitting back together, Cooper finally relaxed in his chair as he crossed one leg over the other.

"Now don't go doin' anything that stupid again, y' hear me? Don't wanna have to use any more stims than we have to."

"I just... don't understand why you're so worked up about this. Something like this was bound to happen eventually, it's literally a warzone out here. A scar or two isn't unusual." (Y/n) griped as she fell back onto the bed while crossing her arms.

"Yeah, for someone like me it isn't. But it shouldn't ever happen someone like you. You shouldn't have to get hurt like that..." Grumbled Cooper as he leaned back against the wall.

"I'm not made of glass, Coop, I can handle a few hits."

"Don't care. You're way too valuable for me to lose."

(Y/n)'s glare softened at that, realizing the true intention behind the cowboy's scolding was worry. As Cooper sets up a small lantern on the floor to combat the growing darkness, (Y/n) watches the man with a fondness gleaming in her eyes.

"Is that what this is all about? You didn't wanna see me get hurt?" Whispers the girl as she turns onto her side.

Although the action is rather subtle, the ghoul's body visibly tenses up as he fixes his gaze away from the woman across from him.

"I never said that."

"It's clear that you thought it, though." (Y/n) chuckled as she softly grinned at the cowboy.

Heaving out an irritated sigh, Cooper hunches over to look at her as he readjusts his hat.

"What do ya wanna hear from me, sweetheart? That I care about you? That I love ya? Well, if you don't know that by now, then you might be much dumber than I thought you were."

"Hey, I resent that! You'd be lost with me and you know it!"

"Sure I would. Just like how you'd do great out there if you were all alone."

(Y/n) shakes her head with a scoff before she gets up from the mattress to walk over plop herself onto Cooper's lap after he sits back down on the beat-up dinner chair.

As she shuffles into place, Cooper places his hand on the small of her back to ensure she doesn't topple over. He silently glances at her face, analyzing her now troubled expression as she fiddles with the lapel on his duster.

Mouth opening and closing as she tries to find the words to say, she presses her lips together before finally speaking her thoughts.

"Y'know, I worry about you too... I'm always so worried that there's gonna be a day where that one gunner you miss is gonna be the one that gets you." (Y/n) admits sadly as she rests her head on Cooper's shoulder.

Cooper's eyes widen slightly and peer down at her as he begins to rub a hand up and down her arm in an attempt to comfort her.

"Hey now, look at me. That'll never happen. Not on my watch."

"What makes you so sure?"

"I got too much to fight for. I already lost one family to this nonsense and I'll be damned if you get taken away from me too. I'll fight tooth and nail before I let anything touch me or you again, understand?"

"But why? What's so special about me?"

"If I allow you to get hurt anymore, I will never be able to live with myself again. I love you, so...so much, darlin'." Cooper states with a resolute nod.

(Y/n) eyes water and crinkle with a gentle smile before she leans up to place a couple light kisses upon his charred lips, which he returns immediately upon receiving.

"I love you too, Cooper..." Mutters (Y/n) as she closes her arm around his shoulders.

With a laugh rumbling in his chest, Cooper wraps both of his hands around her waist as he holds her as close as he can.

"Your sweetness is what's gonna be the death of me one of these days, doll... Not some dumbass bullet." Cooper jokes quietly, placing a kiss atop her hair & resting his head on hers as he rocks back and forth to lull her to sleep.

Listening to the calming sound of her breathing as she slumbers, Cooper thinks about how lucky a man like him is to have found a love like (Y/n) in such a desolate situation.

[velvette-creations]

Bite the bullet and run

The Boys: Billy Butcher x fem!reader

Rating: Explicit (Minors DNI) 

WC: 1.9 k 

Prompt: Held at Gunpoint for @sweetspicybingo (Hurt/Comfort Bingo Collection)

Warnings: spoilers for season 4, injury/blood, oral (f receiving), fingering, c*m eating, overstimulation, a bit of angst, alcohol consumption, anger, hallucinations 

Summary: Billy Butcher is living on borrowed time

Billy is staring down the barrel of a loaded gun, and he knows it. The trigger is cocked, bullet warm in the chamber, just itching to fire into his brain. Karmic retribution; he’s done his fair share of lousy shit under the guise of being a hero, and now it’s catching up to him. Took the V and paid the price. He’s living on borrowed time as the tumor destroys his brain, bringing him closer and closer to death. He knows it, but he can’t admit it. Even as the hallucinations of Rebecca and Kessler make it painfully honest.

He wonders how long he can keep spinning out of control, keep blacking out, and keep pushing reality down; god knows it’s already wreaked havoc on his mental state. It’s not like he can escape it; eventually, the cold, hard reality will come knocking on his front door. His mind flickers briefly to the thought of you and the citrus smell of your perfume, of leaving you behind to handle the mess. You’re a cold-hearted bastard, Bucher; just admit, it will do you good, Kessler sneers. But he’s not; Billy Butcher is flesh and blood, human, and he’s not ready to bite the bullet just yet.

He downs the shot, the whiskey burning his throat and dulling his senses. The liquor won’t change anything but allows him a moment's sweet respite from reality. He can hear Kessler’s sardonic laughter from the stool next to him, the outline of him in Billy’s peripheral vision. He’s not fucking real, the cunt ain’t there, Billy seethes in his head.

That’s where you’re wrong, Billy Boy. I’m a part of you now; better get used to it—the devil on his shoulder.

Billy orders another shot, nearly jumping out of his skin when your hand presses against his shoulder. He’s ready to throw an enraged punch to your face until he realizes it’s you.

“What has you so pissed off that you were ready to knock me through a wall?” you ask dryly as you slip into the stool beside him, Kessler’s form dissipating. You turn toward the bartender and order two shots: one for him and one for you.

“A bit of this, a bit of that, love. This Neuman business has got us all on edge, don’t it?” he grumbled, wrapping his blunt fingers around the shot glass. You want to slap him right across the face. You know it’s more than that.

You hmmm softly before downing your shot, then tap your fingers against the sticky bar counter.

“Sorry, but I’m not buying that bullshit. You’ve been off for weeks. You’re hiding something.” You don’t mean to sound so accusatory, but you’re tired of dancing around the issue. It pisses you off that he’s withholding, and you’re tired of letting him crawl between your legs so he can avoid reality.

“Ain’t none of your business, love,” he snorts, and you slam your hands against the bar.

“Fuck you, Billy! It is my fucking business! If I’m gonna wake up to you dead next to me in bed one morning, I deserve to fucking know,” you growl, making heads turn in your direction.

Tell her, Billy. You don’t have to be alone. I don’t want you to be alone. Sweet, sweet Rebecca, the angel on his other shoulder.

He glares up at you, anger dancing in his dark eyes, but you can see the pain pushing through. You’re ready for the explosion; you welcome it. Anything to prove that he still has a fight inside of him, that he isn’t giving in so willingly. Glass shatters as he slams it against the bar, tiny pieces embedding in his skin and blood oozing from the shallow cuts. You hold your hand out as the bartender storms over.

“We’re going,” you assure him, leaving enough cash to cover the shots and a generous tip to compensate for the disturbance and broken glass. You grab Billy’s upper arm and tug him towards the door.

The bartender was kind enough to lend you a clean rag to wrap around Billy’s injured hand, and you guide him toward your apartment, which is a couple blocks away. The silence is deafening as you both sit hunched over in your small bathroom (the light is better there) as you remove the glass from Billy’s cuts with tweezers. Once you’re assured you’ve gotten them all out, you wash and disinfect his hand before wrapping it in a clean bandage. How many nights have you spent cleaning blood and stitching up wounds, avoiding the hospital if able? How many nights have you spent with his mouth hot on your cunt as his tongue brings you to the edge of sweet oblivion? Intimate in so many ways, yet the art of communication is lost.

“I ain’t trying to lie to you, love. I just don’t wanna say it,” he murmurs, his gaze cast to the floor, counting the white tiles to glisten in the bright light.

Tell her, Billy

You gently grasp his uninjured hand, smoothing your thumb over his knuckles. “Are you sick?”

He nods.

“Are you living on limited time?”

He nods again. He’s told you all you need to know without saying a word.

“Will you let me be there for you?”

There is a hesitation before he nods a third time. He can see Rebecca smiling at him from over her shoulder.

“Thank you. I won’t say anything to the rest of the team,” you assure him. Secrets are for him to share, not you. You won’t betray his trust in that way.

“Thanks, love.”

“Come on, you can crash with me tonight.”

You find a show to watch that isn’t under the Vought umbrella and share Chinese takeout with Billy, squished together on your small couch, the space he’ll be sleeping on tonight. You made it painfully evident with the extra pillow and blankets sitting on the small coffee table in front of the TV. The truth may have been revealed, but you’re not ready to completely mend fences.

“Night, Billy,” you whisper, brushing your lips over his warm cheek, feeling the soft stubble of his beard scrape against your skin.

“Night, love,” he sighs, and you disappear into your bedroom.

Eventually, you’re finally caught in the hazy space of sleep and the waking world when you feel the mattress dip. Billy’s warm body settles against your back, and his bandaged hand rests on your hip.

“I’ll go if you want me to, love, but I’ve missed you,” he whispers in your ear before his lips ghost along the curve of your neck. Need palpitates in your belly. You don’t want him to go. Maybe you’re more forgiving than you thought.

“Don’t…don’t go, Billy,” you beg, your words holding a heavier meaning as tears sting your eyes.

“I’m right here, love, I’m right here,” he assuages, pulling you closer with his other hand before it slips under your tank top to cup one of your breasts. His thumb circles around your nipple until it hardens. His cock presses against the swell of your ass. Your citrus perfume tickles his nose.

You rut against him, grabbing his hand and moving it down your belly. He plunges into your shorts, his warm palm finding your damp cunt immediately. His rough fingers stroke your folds, gathering up your arousal.

“Billy,” you whine. His bare chest radiates warmth, and you yearn to curl into it.

“I’m right here, love,” he breathes as two fingers slip inside you. You clench around him, rocking your hips as needy mewls spill from your lips. It never takes much for him to make you come completely undone. You try to push away the thought that he’s living on borrowed time, which could be one of the last moments you share with him. Might as well make the most of it.

Your eyes roll back as his fingers pump steadily in and out of your pussy, making your toes curl before you spill into orgasm. Animalistic lust surges through you as Billy removes his fingers and tugs your shorts down your legs. You roll over, tugging off your tank and his boxers before lowering your mouth to suck on the tip of his cock. Once he’s coated in your salvia, you mount him, sinking deep onto his cock.

“Bloody hell,” he groans, his good hand gripping your hip tightly before slipping up your belly to take a handful of your tits.

You bounce on his cock, working your muscles and riding him like it might be his last night. You try to push away the thought that it very well might be. You reach down to cup his face as sweat pools down your back.

“Billy, fuck, Billy,” you moan, tracing your thumb around his plush lips.

“Love the way you scream my name, darlin’,” he grins, all cocksure. There he is. There’s your Billy.

“Don’t I know it,” you purred, squeezing around his cock as his hips thrust beneath you. A chill sets in the outside air, but inside is all heat. His flesh is sweaty and salty, and you can’t get enough of it.

Billy finds his fire and his strength, remaining buried inside you as he changes positions, placing you on your back underneath him so he can pound you. Your legs tighten around his waist as he leans down to capture you in a fiery kiss, one where you can taste his passion and the salt of his skin. Your nails skim down his back as flesh smacks together. Wet sounds fill the air, intermingling with his grunts and your pants. You tremble beneath him as you reach your peak, and he spills inside you, making you milk him for all he’s worth. He stays pressed against you as your fingers drag lazily through his damp, dark hair.

Billy gazes into your eyes, thinking it was well spent if this was his last night on earth. Better to go out with a bang and in between the thighs of a woman he loves. Not that he’s ever uttered those words out loud. Almost feels as if he’s betraying Rebecca, but fucking hell, how long can he hold onto ghosts? He gently slips out of you, leaving kisses along your neck, over the swells of your breasts and your belly, before he reaches your soaked, swollen cunt. He can’t help but swipe his tongue over the mess of himself mixed with you.

“Billy,’ you gasp, tangling your fingers in his hair as you squirm against his mouth.

“Indulge a dying man, would you, love? Don’t deny me my favorite last meal,” he murmurs against your damp thighs.

“Oh, you’re an asshole,” you laughed, giving his hair a sharp tag.

“Don’t I know it?” His tongue swirls against your core, dipping inside you.

You’re oversensitive from earlier, and it doesn’t take long for you to cum against his mouth, feeling absolutely spent by the time he’s finished. You’re coated in sweat, and a shower sounds so good, but you can’t be fucked to move. You barely muster up the strength to drape yourself over Billy’s naked chest, holding tightly to him. His bandaged hand rests lightly against your lower back. You snuggle your face against the crook of his neck, committing his scent and flesh to your memory.

Billy Butcher is staring down the barrel of a gun, but for now, he only cares about the feeling of you in his arms. He’ll bite the fucking bullet another fucking day.

[shadesslut]

a father’s malice

Pairing: (Ex-Gf!Ethan Landry x Fem!Reader)

Content Includes: (Angst)

Summary: After the Ghostface attacks, Y/N tried her best to move on from Ethan with raising their son, but things get harder after Ethan gets out of jail.

part 1 part 2

✮

✮

✮

Things were starting to go better for Y/N. It had been a year after the incident, a year of therapy sessions, and a year of Y/N trying to move on from Ethan Landry. It’s also been a year since she found out she was pregnant. She couldn’t believe it; that Ethan was a Ghostface, and she couldn’t believe that Ethan could help create something as innocent as their kid. She named him Ollie, short for Oliver, and the last thing Y/N wanted was Ollie to resemble anything like his father.

Ethan was the only Ghostface survivor in the attack and was now currently residing in prison. She had visited him twice; once to tell him how much she hated him, and twice to tell him she never wanted to see him ever again. He kept his head down during both visits, not saying more than two words. He only nodded when she told him she’d never visit him again, and his fingers instinctively twitched, resisting to reach out and touch the glass.

It was hard, but she pushed through during the past year, especially with the help of her friends. They gave her their sympathy, but they didn’t understand; they never liked Ethan, so they weren’t as upset. Except Chad. Chad was the only one who bonded with Y/N over Ethan’s betrayal, which led to Chad being Y/N’s number one supporter with taking care of Ollie.

“Can you warm up his bottle?” Y/N asked, rushing to gather all of Ollie’s necessities in her bag. Ollie’s cries echoed throughout her apartment while Chad bounced Ollie on his legs. Chad winced as Ollie’s cries grew louder, and he nodded before standing up and shifting Ollie to sit on his hip.

“Here,” she offered out her hands towards Ollie, who happily reached for her. His cries quieted, and he rested his head in the crook of her neck, gently closing his eyes. “Finally,”

Chad held the bottle of milk under the faucet, turning on the hot water. He looked back to her and softly smiled.

“Hopefully, he’ll stay like that when we get there. Speaking of, Mindy texted me saying to hurry up.” Y/N sighed, throwing the bag over her shoulder and took the warm bottle from Chad. Chad sighed, and he took the bag off her shoulder, swinging it over his. “You ready?” He asked, turning off the lamps. She nodded, and she followed him out the door.

–

Sam smiled down at Ollie, who was letting out a very contagious laugh. She continued to tickle his round belly, while Tara held up one of his stuffed animals. The sisters were sitting on the floor in their living room as Y/N and Mindy washed dishes in the kitchen.

“Did you see the interview?” Mindy asked Y/N, slowly turning her head towards her. “And the bullshit Ethan said?”

Y/N’s hands stopped, and her shoulders slumped. She only shook her head silently in response.

Y/N’s hands stopped, and her shoulders slumped. She only shook her head silently in response.

“He said his dad manipulated him and Quinn, and that he honestly didn’t want to hurt anyone. And he blamed Anika’s death on Wayne, so now he’s just serving time as an accomplice. Total shithow,” she cursed, aggressively drying the plate in her hand. Y/N only had a solemn look upon her face as she dried her hands.

“Do you think they’ll let him out?” Mindy asked. She knew Mindy meant well, but God did she wish she would just shut up about Ethan.

“Mindy, stop talking about him.” Chad yelled at her from the living room. Chad gave Y/N a supporting smile, to which she returned. Mindy quietly apologized, before leaving the kitchen. “You okay?” Chad whispered to Y/N as she sat down next to him on the couch, looking over at Ollie.

“I’m fine.” She told him, but he didn’t believe her. She felt her eyes start to water as she looked at Ollie. He really did look like Ethan. His soft curls pointed in different directions, and his brown eyes were bright and big, just like Ethan’s. Ollie noticed her stare, and he immediately giggled before crawling over to her, hugging her legs.

She softly chuckled as she picked him up, and she laughed as he rammed his head onto her chest, cuddling with her.

“Okay!” Tara clapped her hands together. “Time to watch National Geographic!” She said in a baby voice, pinching at Ollie’s cheeks.

“Ollie, you wanna see the sharks?” Sam asked, also making her voice high-pitched.

Ollie’s head perked up at the word, and he immediately swung his arms up and down as he celebrated. The girls giggled as they turned on the TV.

It had been an hour of the group watching shark videos, and as cute as it was watching Ollie get excited over them for thirty minutes, it got a little boring. Chad, Tara, and Mindy had fallen asleep in their spots, and Chad’s head rested on Y/N’s shoulder as he snored lightly.

Sam looked over at the two and softly smiled as the two boys who were passed out on top of Y/N. She nudged her shoulder, causing Y/N’s droopy eyes to open.

“So, we haven’t had time to talk tonight,” she whispered.

Y/N yawned, trying desperately not to move to wake up the boys. “No, we haven’t.”

“How have you been?”

“It’s been hard. I know everyone else has moved on-“

Sam interrupted her, “You don’t know that, and it’s okay if it’s true. I’m still not over what happened with Richie.”

“Really? You seem so,”

“Put together?” Sam asked, dryly chuckling. “Not at all.”

Y/N’s mouth formed an ‘o’ as she looked down. She rubbed the side of her finger over Ollie’s cheek, it slightly squishing.

“What about you and Chad? I think he likes you,” Sam smiled at her, bringing her attention back to her. Y/N looked over at Chad and snorted. His mouth was wide open, and drool spilled out of his mouth and onto his shirt. She never noticed Chad’s pining over her, she only ever saw him as her comfort person.

“I don’t know. Chad has always been, well, Chad.” Y/N answered.

Sam lightly chuckled, before her phone rang. The two looked at each other with concern, but it faded once they saw Danny’s contact. Sam smiled at Y/N, before getting up and answering her phone.

Y/N checked her phone, the time reading 9:34, and she started to lightly shake Chad. He groaned, rubbing his eyes.

“Time to go,” she whispered.

The two gave their quiet goodbyes to Sam and an angry Tara who was woken up by Chad’s voice. Two two walked in a comfortable silence to their apartment, enjoying the soft breeze that made their noses cold.

Chad sighed, setting down the baby bag on the couch as Y/N locked the door.

“Here I can put him down,” Chad offered.

“No it’s okay, you go to sleep.” Y/N said softly. Chad nodded and smiled, flicking his eyes up and down at her. He waited, like he wanted to tell her something, but instead, he whispered a goodnight before retiring to his room.

She sighed, resting Ollie in his bed, gently tucking him in as not to wake him. She laid her head on the headboard, sadly looking down at his sleeping position.

“I know you don’t understand this,” she whispered to him. “But I miss your dad.”

Ollie continued to softly snore, his chest rising up and down as he peacefully slept. She reached down and moved a few curls out of his face.

“I know you probably think Chad is your dad, and I’m dreading the day you realize that he’s not. I honestly wish he was sometimes, you know? That your real father isn’t a murderer, and someone who enjoyed hurting others. I don’t want you to end up like that; I want you to be a good person.”

Again, Ollie only snored in response.

“I love you Oliver, and I’m sorry. Sorry for continuing to love your real father.” She softly started to cry, her tears rolling off her cheeks onto Ollie’s forehead. She sniffed and wiped it off.

A loud banging on the door woke Ollie up, him instantly crying from the tiredness.

“Jesus Christ,” she muttered, picking Ollie up into her arms as she wrapped her hand around his head. He cried louder, and she groaned as she walked towards the front door. She unlocked the door and opened it.

“What?” She asked sternly, immediately freezing at the person in front of her.

It was Ethan, hair a little longer, face paler, wearing the exact same outfit as he wore the day he was arrested, and a hopeful glint in his eyes. He smiled widely at the sight of her, and his eyes went straight to Ollie. Y/N shifted, turning her body to create distance from Ollie and Ethan.

“H-How-“ she stuttered, eyes widened nervously.

“They let me out. Someone sent me bail money.” Ethan cut her off. He looked happy, excited. Like a husband coming home after a business trip to his family.

“Who?” She shook her head. No this can’t be real.

Ethan shook his head, not knowing who sent the money. He covered his mouth with his hand as he looked at Ollie, smiling. “Is…I-Is he mine?”

She didn’t answer, her silence answering for him. He let out a happy laugh as his eyes watered.

“Who’s at the door?” Chad groggily asked, yawning as he appeared in the doorframe. His fight or flight kicked in once he saw Ethan, and he immediately pulled Y/N behind him. “What the fuck-“

���C-Chad, hi,” Ethan nervously stammered, trying to peek around him to look at Y/N and Ollie. Y/N started to cry again, holding on tightly to Ollie.

“Don’t fucking look at her, I swear to God I’d fucking kill you right now if she wasn’t right here.” Chad cursed, grabbing Ethan by his collar once again.

“Some things never change, huh?” Ethan lightly joked at Chad.

But Chad wasn’t laughing, he threw Ethan against the wall and spat on him, slamming the door shut. Chad locked the door, and instantly turned to hug Y/N. “What was he doing here? How’d he get out?”

“He said someone sent bail money. I-I don’t know how he knew where I lived. B-But Chad,” Y/N said, looking up at him.

He wiped her tears with his thumb.

“He knows about Ollie now.” She cried.

Chad sighed, resting his hand on the back of Ollie’s head, and he leaned down to kiss her forehead. “I’m not gonna let anything happen to either of you.”

They ignored the continued knocks on the door throughout the night. Chad had practically forced Y/N to let him sleep with her and Ollie that night. He barricaded the door with her dresser, wiping his hands on his jeans as he finished. He curled up against the two of them, letting Ollie wrap his fingers around Chad’s index finger. He looked up at Y/N, who was worriedly staring at Ollie.

“He’s gonna come back.” She whispered to Chad. “He won’t stop now that he knows he has a son.”

“It’s going to be okay. I’ll never leave your side.” Chad comforted her.

She softly smiled at him, before drifting off to sleep. Chad followed shortly after. As for Ethan, he didn’t get much sleep that night. He slept in the lobby of their apartment building on a bench. As he shifted his body uncomfortably, he felt giddy inside. He had a son, a son with Y/N. He wondered what his name was, how he would react to Ethan saying it. He smiled to himself, thanking God he was alive. Somehow, and he had no idea how, he was going to slip his way back into her life. He was going to help raise his son, and he was going to treat him the way Ethan wanted to be treated. He was going to be loved. More importantly, he was going to be protected. Because Ethan, oh, Ethan would kill anyone, for coming in between him and his family.

[huskersbooze]

Sick

Alastor x Reader

Summary : You get sick and Alastor keeps you company <3

Warnings : Swearing(lots of it)

Pairings : Alastor x F!Reader (M!Reader here)

Additional Tags : ALASTOR POV CUZ YES. Sick reader, implied relationship, h/c, fluff, comfort

Word count : 1.01k

“Hey, you alright, kid?” Husk tilts his head to the side, wiping down the last glass of the day.

You don’t respond. Instead, you’re staring off into the distance, dozing off in your own world.

“Kid?”

“Huh? What?” You finally snap out of your thoughts.

“Geez, ya’ look like hell.” Husk acknowledges. “Are you sick?”

“I don’t know.” You shrug. “I don’t think so?”

“Go rest. I’ll work alone today.”

“What? No! I’m fine I swear-” Before you’re able to finish your sentence, Husk flips you off.

“Bullshit. Go find your radio boyfriend.”

“Don’t bullshit me-”

You try arguing but Husk only smirks when he catches a glimpse of Alastor who’s appeared right behind you.

“Well, I just did.” He says. “Now stop being so stubborn.”

“I’m not being stubborn I-” 

You feel a hand being put to your forehead and try to fight back, only to realise it was Alastor.

“High fever.” He lets go. “You’re being stubborn.”

“Oh, fuck you, Al.”

“We’ll fuck when you’re better, darling.”

You blush. Alastor grins. Husk tries to hold in a laugh but ultimately fails.

“You’re sick and you need rest, my dear. Come along.”

“I’m fine-”

Alastor can only sigh, picking you up as you yelp.

“This is completely, and utterly, your fault single-handedly.” He smiled as you pouted. “You're very much welcome, darling.”

“Whatever.”

-----

You managed to escape Alastor as he leaves to mess with Vox. (Ep2 lmao)

Upon returning to the bar, Husk was not pleased to see your ass out of bed, emphasising on how important sleep was to someone sick.

You couldn’t care less.

Though, after wiping down a few more bottles with him, your eyes doze off and your eyelids feel droopy.

“Kid?”

The world spins and fades away.

“Fuck! Kid, ya’ alright?! Alastor!”

-----

[Alastor’s pov]

I heard a little groan as my eyes widened.

"Darling." I whispered, hoping not to startle her.

"Al..?" She breathed out.

"Good morning." I joked, though so grateful she was now awake.

"Wha.. What time is it?" She asked, struggling to get up.

"Be careful." I ushered, helping her sit. "I'm not so sure myself. It's very late at night."

"Where am I?" She asked, finally waking up as she stopped slurring through her words. 

"My room. ‘I’m not sick’ my arse." I replied.

"Oh. Well, I guess you and Husk were right. I just thought I was a little sick." She murmured. 

"You are sick." I replied. "Just worse than you expected."

"Real humorous, Al." She gave a small, yet weak, giggle.

Silence filled the air between us, and we didn't say anything else after that. That was, until she gave a small sneeze. I could tell she tried to suppress it, but seeing it was late at night and so quiet, it was hard not to notice.

"Are you cold?" I asked. I could barely make out the silhouette of her nodding lightly. Without hesitating, I took off my coat and handed it over to her. "Better?"

"A lot. Thanks, Al." She replied. After another few seconds of silence, she spoke up once more. "Why aren’t you asleep?"

"You do remember your dear partner does not need, nor does he enjoy, sleep?"

"Excuse, excuses." She joked, earning a chuckle from me.

"I can't really sleep now." She suddenly says out of nowhere. One thing I really like about this girl, she says the most random things in the most random situations. "Could we do something else?"

"Are you trying to get me killed?" I laughed. "You need to rest."

"I'm aware. That's the initial plan, anyways." She joked. At least, I hoped she was joking.

"You sneaky little deer."

"Yes. That's me. Hello." She replied, sitting on the edge of the bed with her legs crossed as she proceeded to look at me in the dark room. “Besides, it’s not like anyone here at the Hotel is actually powerful enough to kill you.”

"Very well, then. What do you have in mind?"

“Some jazz and cuddles would be nice.”

-----

She chokes on another cough.

"Are you sure you're alright? You should really rest in such vulnerable state."

"I'm," Another cough. "Fine. I swear."

"If you insist."

After a while, I turned to face her, worried she wasn't enjoying herself anymore, only to find her sound asleep, clinging lightly to my shirt. See? I told you were sleepy. You just refused to listen to me. I stopped and watched the girl, moving little by little, afraid of waking her up.

She looked so peaceful. Though, it wouldn't be the first time I find her sleeping in my presence. I tugged a small strand of hair behind her ear as she shifted a little. I immediately paused. Shit, had I woken her? Though she soon returned to her slumber and she curled up into a ball in front of me.

I suppose this would suffice.

"Goodnight, darling." I whispered softly, laying next to her in the bed. "See you in the morning."

-----

[2nd person]

You awoke early in the morning, feeling well rested. Your bed was awfully more comfortable than you had remembered. You sat up and rubbed your eyes, finally opening them for the first time, only to find that you weren't in your own room. It took you a while to let things simmer in.

That's when you heard snoring next to you.

You turned to find the Radio Demon cuddled into a ball next to you in bed sleeping oh so soundly. The poor man probably hadn't had sleep in days. Before you could process what was happening, you checked the time and realized you had to be back at the bar for work in 5 minutes. Not wanting to wake Alastor up, you left him a quick note to thank him and left.

----

The whole day passed and you never caught sight of Alastor. After closing the bar, you headed to Alastor’s room,hoping to find him there.

You stop at his door and break out a tiny laugh.

On the door, a rushed sign saying — Sick. Keep out.

[jediavengers]

𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐲 ⋆ ˚｡⋆

warnings: 18+, smut, mild dumbification, degradation, slapping, forced orgasm, power dynamics, sub!anakin, dom!reader, crying, mentions of alcohol

pairing: sub!bratty!anakin x reader

“5 times. 5 times today you’ve pressed your luck, and i’m done with it.” You slam the door behind you as you storm in your apartment behind Anakin.

“You’re being dramatic, I didn’t even-“

You quickly turned on your heel. A harsh slap across his face to shut him up.

“Dramatic? Do you remember what happened the last time you spoke to me like that?” You snap, your words cold and quiet.

All day Anakin had been a little brat. He’d made several remarks that were unnecessarily rude, slapped your ass multiple times in public settings and tried using the force to touch you.

He was downright careless, doing these things where anyone could see. And you were done with his bullshit.

“Bedroom. Now.”

Anakin’s eyes widened, realizing you weren’t messing around. No, you were mad.

He quickly listened, nearly running to your bedroom.

“Better be stripped and on the bed by the time I get back there.” You shout down the hallway, then you turn to the kitchen to pour yourself a glass of wine. Maker knows you needed it.

After you quickly downed the glass, you stormed back to your shared bedroom. There he was, in all his naked glory, laying on his back with a worried look on his pretty face.

His painfully hard cock gave him away.

“Been acting up all day just because you’re fucking horny,” Your words were venomous and came out angrily as you leaned against the door frame. “You really thought I was going to give you what you want? After the way you acted today? Could’ve gotten us in big trouble if anyone saw.”

You took a few steps closer to the bed, causing him to squirm. His cock was painfully hard. The tip was a bright rosy pink, pre-cum leaking out of it and pooling at the base of his dick.

Anakin’s eyes were glossy and his lips were swollen from him biting them so hard. “I-I’m sorry- you’ve just been s-so preoccupied and I-“

“If you want my attention, you ask,” You spit, shaking your head and grabbing a vibrator out of your bedside table. “You don’t act like a little bitch in front of a bunch of people.”

Anakin’s eyes widen and he stutters. “I’m sorry! I p-promise I won’t do it again-“

“Isn’t that what you said last time? And last time I let you off the hook. You need a good reminder of why you are supposed to listen to what I tell you.”

You quickly climb onto the bed, your expression seething. Turning on the vibrator, you immediately put it on the highest setting. Then you harshly grab his dick, wrapping your hand tightly around his shaft.

Anakin lets out a yelp that’s a mixture of pleasure and pain.

“Shut up.” You seethe, gripping his cock harder. A few tears roll down his face and you briefly feel bad. But after feeling his cock twitch in your hands, your sympathy flutters away, knowing he was enjoying your anger.

You begin to quickly pump his cock and place the vibrator on his tip, giving him no foreplay or buildup.

Anakin lets out a cry of pain and he arches his back, pre-cum leaking out of his tip and soaking the vibrator.

“Please- no!” He cries out, causing you to smirk. He may act like he wasn’t enjoying it, but the little bitch was. He knew his safe word, and he wasn’t using it.

“No? No what? No, don’t stop?” You began pumping his cock faster, wet sounds bouncing off the walls as you squeezed him tightly.

“Gonna-“ Anakin whined.

“No. Don’t you dare fucking cum.”

You took the vibrator and your hand away, causing him to gasp and let out a cry. His cheeks were soaked with tears and bright red. His pretty curls clung to his sweaty forehead. “Please- please.. i’m so s-sorry.. i’ll do better. I’m your good boy, remember? You- you know i’m your good boy!”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “You want to be a good boy? Fucking act like one.”

You began to aggressively pump his dick again and placed the vibrator at his ballsack. Anakin threw his head back and began to squirm, crying out. “Please!” He sobbed.

“Please? You’re so pathetic. Fine, cum.” You chided, stroking him quickly. You felt his cock twitch in your hands and you squeezed right below his tip, pumping him shallowly to make him cum.

God, he was pathetic.

He let out the most pornographic sounds as he came, spurts upon spurts of his seed squirting onto his stomach, your hands and some on the bed.

You didn’t stop there. Your stroking got quicker and more aggressive. “Give me another one, Ani. Come on.”

Anakin tried to squirm away, but you angrily squeezed his cock, causing him to yelp. “No-please! Stop!”

“Shut the hell up.” You demand, continuing to stroke him at an animalistic pace.

Anakin let out a loud moan, his cock twitching in your hands and spurting more of his seed out onto his stomach.

You egged him through his second orgasm and pulled away, shaking your head. “Next time you act like a little child, you remember this. Cause I’m not finished with you.”

[writemekpop]

Bad Girl | Jung Jaehyun

Summary: Jung Jaehyun is the first guy you’ve ever met who isn’t attracted to you. You’re determined to seduce him. 

Genre: Enemies to lovers AU

Word Count: 1.5k

As you walked into the first play rehearsal, you felt your heart stutter. 

A painfully hot guy was standing by the cast-only coffee table. He was tall, statuesque, in a long black coat and glasses. His chest strained at the fabric of his white shirt, as if his stiff body couldn’t be contained.   

"Hey, you must be Jung Jaehyun," you said, looking up at him through your lashes. Now, you just had to wait for him to start drooling - guys couldn't resist you. 

"Afternoon," Jaehyun said. He barely glanced at you. Was he gay or something? "Thank goodness you're here, we're out of tea." 

You blinked. "Sorry…I’m your co-lead? I play Margot Warner, your character's wife?" 

He stretched out his hand to shake yours, stiffly. "Apologies - I thought you were the coffee girl." 

Damn it, even his cold stare of indifference was sexy.  

"Let’s start with the argument scene," the director said. 

You and Jaehyun took centre stage. "Does my gaze make you feel nothing?" you breathed, looking into his eyes. "My touch?" You twined your fingers in his heavenly soft hair. "My kiss?" 

Standing on your tiptoes, you squeezed a kiss to his lips. They were cool as marble. 

Jaehyun stared into your eyes. Now, overcome with desire, his character was meant to tear the buttons off your shirt and pull you close, just as the lights dimmed. 

But Jaehyun stepped away from you. "Time out!" He sighed. "I just cannot understand what my character sees in hers. Why does he suddenly give in?" 

The director nodded. "He’s right. We need some chemistry here, guys! This is… PG-13 at best.” 

Jaehyun looked at you. "Listen, you may have never seduced a man, but you are going to have to pretend. That is of course, what actors do." 

You could just strangle him. Never seduced a man?  Jaehyun thought he was so much better than you, with his stupid little theatre degree from Harvard. 

You didn’t need a fancy degree to be a good actor. Plus, you could eat Harvard boys for breakfast - and you had. You’d tasted half the football team, in fact. 

Four hours later, you still hadn’t got the scene. 

The director looked like he'd had enough. "Sort out the chemistry by tomorrow, or I’m firing one of you. Which one do you think I should fire?" 

"Him!" you said, at the same time as Jaehyun snapped, 'Her!" 

You stormed up the stairs of the auditorium to get your bag from one the seats. Chemistry problem. Bullshit. That was like saying Albert Einstein had an intelligence problem. 

"Where do you think you're going?" Jaehyun said. 

A tiny shiver ran down your spine. 

"Are you really going to give up on the scene that easily?" Jaehyun taunted. "I've seen chihuahas with longer attention spans." 

"It’s tough acting against a brick wall," you shot back. 

Jaehyun shuddered. "If I have to teach you how to act, I will. Come here."

You walked over to him. 

"Margot is trying to seduce her husband. Your acting is too unidimensional!" 

"Uni-what?" you said. 

"Obvious! You're playing it too obvious," Jaehyun said. "I can see why that would be a problem for you. The whole Barbie thing usually does the trick with men, doesn't it? With your tight dresses and your… long legs. " He glanced at your body, and quickly looked away. But you’d noticed.   

You smirked. "So you think I'm hot." 

Jaehyun scoffed. "What I'm saying is, you need to play the role with your whole body. Subtle - yet hair-raising." He grabbed your script. "I'll try Margot. Watch and learn." 

Jaehyun stepped towards you. 

On the surface, nothing had changed. But Jaehyun was a different man. His face was flushed, his breaths shaky. His eyes kept flashing to your lips, like it took everything in him not to kiss you. 

"Does my gaze make you feel nothing?" he said quietly, his black eyes searching yours. "My touch?" He twined his fingers in your hair, and you couldn't hide the sound of your breath catching.

Every inch of your skin was alive.

"My kiss?" 

Jaehyun kissed you. His lips were so much gentler than you'd expected. You knew it was just acting, but Jaehyun seemed so into you it made him nervous. His whole body trembled with desire. 

You pulled back, struggling to catch your breath. That kiss was hair-raising.  

Something told you Jaehyun wasn't that good an actor. 

Jaehyun pulled back, his face flushed, a pink cloud of lipstick rimming his mouth. He was biting his plump lips, almost as if he was fighting a smile. "Clear?" 

You smiled. "You've forgotten the end of the scene."

An unreadable expression flashed over Jaehyun’s face. 

“How did it end again?” he murmured, his eyes fixed on yours. 

Your eyes fell to Jaehyun’s lips. “Margot and Lewis find the time to… reconnect.” Your fingers found the opening of Jaehyun’s shirt. “To get to know each other again.” 

Jaehyun gulped. “I thought they hated each other.” You started unbuttoning Jaehyun’s shirt, one button at a time. He shivered under your touch. “Hate and love aren’t as different as you think,” you said. 

You abandoned Jaehyun’s shirt on the seats. His body belonged in an art gallery, a sculptor’s impression of the perfect man. Only, Jaehyun was not still and cold anymore. His chest was rising and falling, his flesh hot. 

“This doesn’t mean I’m giving in,” Jaehyun said. “I still abhor you.” 

“And I still don’t give a damn what abhor means,” you said, smirking. Jaehyun hoisted your leg up against his hip. His lips met yours now, hungrily, no script to lead the way. 

On the couch in Jaehyun's big New York apartment, you smirked down at him, stroking his chest. "How was that for seducing a man?" 

"Excellent work," Jaehyun said in mock-seriousness, trying not to look ridiculous despite still panting. "Highly commendable." 

“You know…” you said, nuzzling into his chest, “if you were so into me, why did you act like a jerk?” “I’m married,” he said.

 You felt a pang of disappointment.   

“Divorced, to be precise,” Jaehyun continued. “Eight years. She was my… my first.” He spoke into your hair now. “I didn’t know what to do with the way I felt about you. I know I’m just a fling to you, but-“ “You’re not,” you said, moving to meet his eyes. He was gnawing at his plump lip, and you smoothed your finger over it, stopping him. “The way I felt last night… let’s just say I don’t get that a lot.” Your voice dropped. “Or ever.” “Are you saying I’m the best you’ve ever had?” Jaehyun said, turning you around so he was hovering over you, wearing a smug smirk.

“You’re gonna have to work a lot harder to earn that title…” you said, fixing your fingers in his hair. 

-- 

The next day, when you returned to rehearsal, something had changed. “You- um, you first,” Jaehyun said, gesturing to the coffee pot. 

“No, really, you,” you said, rubbing the back of your neck. You had no idea how to act professionally now. Should you touch Jaehyun? Smile at him? Ignore him completely?  

You both broke out into laughter.  

When it came to that scene, however, you and Jaehyun fought the urge to rush to the end.  

"Does my gaze make you feel nothing - my touch - my kiss, blah blah blah..." you mumbled, then pulled Jaehyun towards you in a kiss that made you weak in the knees. 

A lot of the director’s throat-clearing later, Jaehyun finally prised you off him, and you stood next to each other. The spotlights were a little blurry – or was that your eyes?  

The director started a slow clap, his mouth ajar. 

"Will these two set the house on fire? I think so!" He walked towards you, lowering his voice. "But really, how did you do it? What's the secret?"

You grinned at Jaehyun. "We were just acting. That is, of course, what actors do." 

—     

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Let us know what you thought in the comments or on anon! 💋

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

let the plot bunnies run wild babes

"Eat, guys," you tell them. "I'm just going to change real quick."

"You don't have to-" Vanessa started to protest but you wave off her concerns.

"I like this shirt and I wanna get it in cold water anyway." You answer shrugging. "Eat," you press, "Christ I'm not dying and I refuse to have people go hungry after I cooked all day." You start towards the bedroom and call over your shoulder, "Logan, help yourself to the beer in the fridge. I'd tell Wade to get it but he's shit with bottle openers."

"I have delicate hands," Wade protested.

Logan rolled his eyes but took you up on the offer. It felt weird eating food you cooked while you weren't sitting there. Even if you clearly didn't mind. And it gave him a chance to see more of your space without being weird.

Younger than Wade but more mature somehow. Wade wasn't a slob exactly. But it was clear you were more settled. You wanted stability. Your kitchen wasn't large but you made do and made the most of the space. Photos on the fridge. You with friends. With your brother. Some pretty old. Wade had you on his shoulders in one. You would have been maybe 6 or 7 and you look sick. But at least for then you're beaming. Another is a birthday, Logan assumes. Wade's. You're on one side and Vanessa is on the other kissing his cheeks. You're older. Grown. The childish roundness is gone from your features but there's still puppy fat- you haven't quite grown into yourself yet.

Friends. Parents. Trigger. Wade. All there. But no boyfriends? He heard Vanessa ask about a date but Wade's yammering drowned out your answer. Weird that there wasn't one. You're a cute kid.

He shook his head and grabbed a beer popping the top and putting it in the cup marked "tops only" on the counter that had pop tabs and bottle caps in it. And went back to his seat, relieved when you walked out of the bedroom.

"Much better now that I don't feel like a horror movie extra," you declare, taking a seat.

"Extra?" Wade scoffed. "Butterbean, you're final girl material."

"If I didn't trip and bleed out on a curb first," you muse. "Also I'm not funny and I don't think my boobs are big enough to-"

"Jamie Lee Curtis made it work," Vanessa pointed out.

"Who?" Logan asked.

"You're not the worst Logan, you're just from the worst timeline," you tell him. "Who was in your Halloween movies?"

"In what?"

You blink at him, "Logan, I- I'm stunned. Halloween is only one of the BEST horror movies of all time."

"Bullshit," Wade said.

"Fuck you," you snort, "You think the Warrens actually fought a Ragedy Ann doll."

Logan caught Vanessa's eye when she raised her glass in mock toast with a wink and dug into her own plate and snorted. Taking advantage of the bickering to eat. And he thought, for just a second, that it might kill him. It took actual effort to stifle a moan.

How Wade could talk between bites was baffling. Logan could tell everything was made from scratch- even the noodles. And he couldn't remember the last time he'd had something like that.

Even more impressive was how you managed to argue with your brother and keep plates and glasses full- and keep him from feeling excluded. Even if he never spoke. Your body was never fully angled away and you glanced towards him, unobtrusively fussing. Hostessing properly, he supposed.

"I guess," he said, clearing his throat as he helped you clear plates to make room for the dessert and coffee, "I can stop stabbing Wade in the head."

"I appreciate it," you tell him, smiling a little as you take the plates from his hands.

[zepskies]

Lost on You - Part 6

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Supe!Reader

Summary: 1983 is a big year for you. You’re finally chosen to join the ranks of Payback, led by the most (in)famous supe in the world: Soldier Boy. He’ll never admit that he’s trying his damndest to figure you out. You’ll never admit that he’s actually growing on you. But the problem with this game is deciding who’s the predator, and who is prey.

AN: The pros and cons of tangling with Soldier Boy...

Song Inspo: “The Voodoo House” by Rick Springfield

Word Count: 6.4K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Smut and more smut, angst, a Noir sighting, death, and even some hurt/comfort if you squint.  

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Part 6: Drowned & Spellbound

Countess was bound to get back at you for this.

You found that you didn’t give a shit as you sat across from your companion with a crystal glass of champagne in hand. You stared up at the tall arched ceilings and ornate chandeliers, the beautiful tapestries and landscape paintings, and most impressive of all, the tall, intricately carved walls of the Oak Room.

You’d heard about this restaurant, but you’d never in your life even stepped foot into the Plaza Hotel. You were now very glad you changed into a proper dress, as well as fixed your hair and makeup.

Across from your intimate table, Ben held his bourbon with a relaxed set to his shoulders. No doubt this was like getting a burger at Chilis for him.

“Enjoying the scenery?” he remarked, taking a sip.

You smiled a little bashfully. “It’s beautiful here. I’ve never been to a place like this.”

Ben’s answering smile was predictable. Stick with me, baby doll. I’ll show you a whole new world, it seemed to say.

“Sinatra comes here from time to time,” he said, pointing at a small corner stage with a piano. “He’s known to take that spot over there and do a tune or two, if he’s got enough whiskey in him.”

Frank Sinatra?! Now that was exciting. You couldn’t help but glance around to see if you spotted him, or any other famous person for that matter. When you heard a chuckle, you looked over and found Ben’s amused face.

“What?” you said with a smile.

“What, I’m not enough celebrity for you?” he teased, rolling his shoulders. “I stormed fucking Normandy, you know.”

You did know, but you leaned in closer, giving your amused attention. It didn’t take long for him to launch into an hour compilation of war stories from back in his day. You’d heard many of them before, but you made it seem as if you were hanging onto his every word.

You realized though, that you could sense him lying with your abilities. Every word that came from his mouth when he talked about his past, his achievements, his exploits in the war and how he helped Vought build a better America afterwards…

It was all complete and utter bullshit.

It took all you had to keep the incredulous frown off your face as you fought to remain invested in his stories. Okay, the one about him taking LSD with the Beatles during Woodstock was true, but other than that, complete and utter bullshit.

You ate mostly in silence as you allowed him to keep talking your ear off, just offering small interjections here and there while he devoured his steak. He seemed to enjoy the sound of his own voice.

You supposed this was what it was like to date the most famous man in the world. No wonder Countess got sick of him.

When he finally rested for a beat, ordering yet another glass of bourbon (you’d lost count at this point), you took your chance to learn something real about him.

“So you’re from Philly, huh?” you said. “What about your family?”

Ben pulled back on you then, his expression falling closer to stoicism.

“What about it?” he said.

“Well, I just realized I know a lot about your career and the amazing things you’ve done for this country, but I don’t know all that much about you,” you said, meeting his eyes. “Like…did you have siblings? What were your parents like? Did you have a dog growing up? That kind of thing.”

You laughed a little to lighten the load, but Ben only softened slightly. It took a moment for him to answer you.

“I was an only child,” he said, again, sipping at his glass. “No dog. Money was too tight for that.”

Again, a lie, you sensed. Not in the first answer, but the second one. Who the hell lied about having a dog?

Or maybe, it was the bit about money being tight. You knew his backstory from the documentary Vought made of him back in ‘75. He was the true “rags to riches” story, according to the narrative, having grown up poor and struggling to survive. It was the one thing you thought you could relate to him about.

But apparently, that wasn’t true either.

“And your parents?” you prodded.

“They were normal. I don’t know what the fuck you want me to say,” Ben said, a little more snappish than you expected. You blinked, taken aback.

You slid your chair a bit closer, so that you were sitting beside him rather than across from him. You laid a hand on his arm, over his jacket. 

“Look, I don’t just want to date Soldier Boy, America’s first superhero,” you said, looking up into his eyes. “I want to know you.”

Again, it took him a beat. But eventually, he lowered his glass back to the table and rubbed a hand over his mouth and chin.

“My mother was a singer at a club. A little crooner, like you,” he said. He eyed you with a slight smile. “That’s where she met my father. As the story goes, she was singing ‘Are You From Heaven’ when he walked in. She saw him, and it was like the uh…the fucking thunderbolt, from the Godfather.”

You smiled. All of this, you sensed, was true.

“They were married within a year,” he said, though he paused, as something distant passed through his eyes. “Pneumonia got her in the end. She was young…but she lived long enough to see me when I got back from the War. A hero.”

He picked up his drink again, maybe this time to distract himself.

“Hers was the last funeral I ever went to,” he said.

And that admission was the most surprising of them all. It managed to strike a familiar chord of grief within you when he looked over at you. You both felt and saw the weight in his gaze.

Maybe he was telling you this on purpose. Maybe he was, in his own way, trying to relate to you about your own mother’s death.

Tears began to sting behind your eyes, but you managed to blink them away. You slid your hand over his on the table. You felt him stiffen slightly, his body tensing up at your touch. You frowned when you saw the glint of wariness cross his face.

“I won’t compel you again, Ben. I promise,” you said. As long as you don’t give me a reason to.

Your hand traveled up his arm, soothing along his neck, your palm finally resting against his cheek. His green eyes stared into yours.

Soon enough, his wariness bled away into desire.

He hooked a foot around the leg of your chair and drew you in even closer, making you yelp in surprise. He smirked, having finally gotten the jump on you for a change. He wrapped an arm around your waist and brought you in closer.

You looked up at his handsome face with wide eyes. A blush dusted your cheeks, warming your face. His smirk softened around the edges, just a little, and he took his chance to engage your lips in a searing kiss.

And maybe this time, you were the one who was caught.

Ben peeled his lips from your neck to give the server a firm no on dessert, “Just the check.”

The guy was good at his job, and was back with the check within a couple of minutes. Ben slapped a significant wad of cash down on the table and guided you up along with him. Breathless as you were, you held onto his arm to keep you up right. The only time you parted from him was at the foyer of the restaurant, where the staff brought your coats.

A limo was waiting outside. With a hand on your lower back (and creeping down to your ass), Ben ushered you in first before he slid in.

“Head back to the Tower,” he told the driver, even as he was pressing the button to raise the partition. “And fucking step on it.”

“Yes, sir.”

You already had a fist in his dress shirt when he turned his attention back to you. You pulled him closer at the same time he leaned in to cage you more fully into his arms. While his mouth ravaged yours, sucking in your lower lip and dragging his teeth across, your hands slipped under his coat and blazer to help him shrug them off.

He similarly ran one of his hands under your coat, up your side and over your breast, squeezing through the fabric. You gave him an encouraging sound, and he dragged a sleeve down along with the bra strap to expose your breast. He palmed you with that big, warm hand, rolling the nipple under his thumb.

None of it was an act when you moaned into his mouth and squeezed his shoulders tight. At this point, it wasn’t just about the game. It wasn’t just about using him. Despite everything—his arrogance, his callous, asshole behavior, his lies—you couldn’t deny that you wanted him. Right now, he was the only thing you wanted.

His lips dragged down your neck, igniting your skin wherever he sucked and teased. You held him there with a hand on his cheek, but it soon wound up into his hair. God, it was softer than it looked.

One of his wandering hands made its way under the skirt of your dress and between your thighs, teasing your slit through your panties. Your breath hitched, but you spread your legs wider for him across the seat. You felt his smirk against your neck.

“Finally ready for me, huh?” he said. “Kept me fucking waiting long enough.”

He didn’t even bother taking off your panties. He just pushed them to the side and dragged his fingers between your slick folds.

“Fuck, your wetter than Niagara already,” he remarked with a smirk.

You rolled your eyes because you knew he couldn’t see it. Smug bastard.

But he was withholding his fingers, just tracing along your pussy and teasing your entrance. Your core was already throbbing with need. Your hips began to undulate against his hand.

“God. Ben, please,” you panted in his ear.

Apparently, that was all he wanted to hear. You uttered a shameless moan when his thumb found your clit, causing a shiver down your spine and a tremble in your core. Soon enough, one of his long fingers slipped deep inside you, all the way to the knuckle.

“Oh, fuck,” you whispered. You didn’t want the driver to hear you.

“I gotcha, sweetheart. Gotta get you real ready for me,” he muttered. “You’re gonna take my cock so well, I can already feel it.”

On his last words, he added a finger and curled them inside you, exploring your inner walls and finding that special spot that made you keen into his ear. His thumb worked your clit at the same time, until you clenched on his hand so hard it had you gasping. He swallowed it with his mouth covering yours, all while he drew out your first release with his fingers stroking inside you.

It was a solid preview, you thought, when the car finally rolled to a stop in front of Vought Tower.

Again, you held onto his arm mostly for balance as he led you to the elevators. Your legs felt like jelly when you tried to walk in your heels. Ben hit the button a bit too hard, but you understood it. Every second that ticked by while you two waited for the elevator was entirely too long.

When it finally opened, he guided you inside and pressed the button for his floor, the penthouse suite, all the way up nearly 80 floors.

A mischievous idea hit you. It had you slipping your hand under his coat and blazer again, tracing the seam of his belt. Ben glanced down at you in knowing amusement, but he let you unbuckle his belt without comment.

He just stared at you with a fire in his eyes while you unbuttoned and unzipped his pants. You dipped your hand inside the waistband and slid a slow hand along the full, impressive length of him. You smiled when it hardened fully at your touch.

“Is all this for me?” you said, even as you leaned up for a kiss.

“If you can handle it,” Ben said.

Then he obliged you, bowing his head to meet your kiss. You kept things slow as you sensuously licked into his mouth. You tasted bourbon on his tongue before you broke the kiss, just to lower down to your knees in front of him. You held onto the back of his strong thighs while you mimicked what you did with your tongue in his mouth, just further down as you outlined his cock through his underwear.

Ben tried to cover his moan with a grunt, but you sensed his powerful arousal. You had his full and undivided attention, especially when you hooked your nails into the band of his underwear and finally freed his cock. You took it in hand and licked a long stripe across the underside of it, from base to tip. He shuddered. His hand shot out to brace against the elevator wall, shaking the entire compartment with his strength.  

Your tongue circled around his sensitive head, licking up beads of precum from the slit. But just when you finally wrapped your lips around him and took him as far as you could into your mouth, the elevator stopped, chiming your arrival cheerfully. 

He didn’t even wait until he had the door to his apartment closed before he dragged you towards him with a hard kiss. Your coat and his had already been cast to the floor, along with his blazer and tie. His dress shirt was halfway there when he hefted you into his arms effortlessly.

You grabbed his face and met him with a kiss fueled by lust and passion. You felt wild. You felt free. You felt like this was a sin you were meant to commit.  

Ben forcibly unbuttoned his pants with one hand and kicked out of them while you broke open the rest of his shirt, scattering buttons across the floor. It allowed you to run your hands over his warm, tan skin, every dip of muscle across his arms and shoulders, and down his solid chest.

He smirked at the way you were eyeing him, exploring him.

“Like what you see, baby doll?”

“Almost as much as you do,” you quipped back. He huffed at that.

He walked you over to the bed, where he dropped you down towards the center. You yelped and how high he’d dropped you from, but you were smiling when he prowled over you on his hands and knees like a predator. His hands slid up your smooth thighs, bunching up your dress all the way up to your hips. You raised up to help him get it over your head. Your hair was already wild by now; you pushed it out of your eyes with a huff.

His hands slid under you again to unclip the bra. It was flung off to parts unknown, along with your panties. He paused in between to trail open-mouthed kisses down your body, between the valley of your breasts.

He turned his head to start toying with one pebbled nipple, swirling his tongue around it. Your fingers threaded through his hair along with your moans as he relentlessly teased your sensitive flesh with his teeth.

"You gonna sing for me, sweetheart?" his voice rumbled smoothly against your skin. "Pretty soon I'm gonna have you screaming for me."

He continued his exploration, his lips dragging down your stomach. And then…

“Oh,” you back arched off the bed. He devoured your pussy with the same tenacity as he had your mouth. His tongue pushed into your entrance while his nose brushed your clit.

Soon enough, your juices coated his stubble-laden cheeks and ran down his chin. His strong hand on your lower belly held you down while he finished his work, his lips moving to suck on your clit. His thick fingers pressed into your channel and worked you open.

You gripped at his hair tightly, cursing and pleading with his name, until you uttered a strangled yell. Your inner walls clenched hard as you came on his tongue.

But you were only able to take maybe one or two breaths of recovery before you felt the thick head of his cock breach your entrance, pushing his way in all the way to the hilt.

You gasped and bit your nails into his shoulders. “Jesus Christ!”

“Not quite,” Ben grunted, though he smirked down at you. “Now let’s see how well you take me. Still so fucking tight.”

Your core contracted around him, still sensitive and pulsing from your orgasm. He didn’t give you a moment more to catch your breath as he began a steady, almost punishing clip inside you. He was stretching you in the most delicious of ways, hitting places deeper than his fingers had been able to reach. It felt so fucking good, all you could do was hold on for the ride.

You wrapped your thighs tighter around his hips, digging your heels into his ass. He ducked down to kiss you, rough and demanding. Your lips met his sloppily, before he dragged away to bite and suck where your neck met your shoulder. You winced at the pain tinged with pleasure, but your eyes rolled shut as you grabbed a fistful of his hair.

Each of his deep strokes inside you was edging you closer to another cresting wave of pleasure. You slipped a hand between you to find your clit, but Ben grabbed your hand and pinned it beside your head.

“Look at me,” he demanded in a near growl.

Your eyes blinked open with a start. You met his gaze. Sweat lined his brow. His other hand was squeezing the flesh of your thigh, opening you up wider for him. You let out a shuddering breath.

“I’m gonna fucking wreck you,” he said, “But first, say my fucking name.”

“Ben,” you gasped, as he shifted the angle of his thrusts. The coil in your lower belly was tightening, your muscles bearing down and clenching on him.

“Say my fucking name,” he repeated, releasing your wrist to lay a heavy smack on your ass. The impact rattled up your spine and you jolted, accidently raking his back with your nails. You felt him shiver then. He moved his fingers down to strum at your clit.

And he got what he wanted. He had you screaming his name along with your release. His body locked up as a strangled shout fell from his lips. He coated your inner walls with his spend as they fluttered around him.

“Fuck,” he muttered, satisfied and spent.

He grabbed onto the headboard in order to hold himself above you, else he would crush you with his weight. You ran your hands up and down his chest more lazily as you each caught your breath.

Thank fuck for the pill, you thought airily. Because clearly this man didn’t care about condoms.

He eventually pulled out of you, making you shiver at the loss. He rolled off you and stretched out on his side of the bed. You turned your head to look at him. He gave you a relaxed grin in return, like the cat who got the cream.

In that moment, it really hit you.

There’s no going back now.

About a week later, you and Ben had developed a kind of…rhythm.

Yet another glass tipped over and shattered on the floor. He didn’t seem to care as he thrust into you from behind on his dining table. Your moans of encouragement were loud and genuine; your nails scraped across the stained tablecloth, incidentally shoving another plate overboard.

Your quiet dinner had been interrupted halfway through dessert. The moment you’d sucked a ribbon of chocolate off your spoon, Ben had reached for you, pulling you into his lap. You’d been all too willing to let him suck the sweetness right off your tongue.

“That’s it, baby, fucking sing for me,” he growled into your ear. His hand crept around your throat, giving a warning squeeze. You grabbed onto his wrist to keep it there. You held onto him like a lifeline. Sometimes you felt like his cock was going to split you in two. But his iron grip on your hip kept you from going anywhere.

His release ultimately hit him before yours. He grunted as his movements became sloppy, but he still pushed into you. You purposefully clenched on him, stealing his breath this time.

He let go of your throat so he could bury his hand between your folds. He rolled your already sensitive clit between his fingers until you cried out, your body locking up on him outside of your control. Your orgasm hit you in a warm, heady wave. Your legs shook, and you slumped onto the table.

Ben was right there with you. For a moment, all he could do was grip the edge of the polished mahogany and stare at the newly formed hickey on the back of your neck. He swiped your hair out of the way so he could see it better. He knew every mark that he’d put on you, even the ones he couldn’t see right now, under the pretty dress you…sort of had on.

“You okay?” he chuckled.

You huffed in amusement, despite your exhaustion. “I could’ve sworn the damn table was going to crack in half.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” he remarked.

He slipped out of you, giving you one last smack on the ass. He didn’t bother to lower your skirt before he dragged up his pants and belt.

“Wanna join me in the shower?” he posed.

You did your best to fix the fallen straps of your dress and ruined bra, along with your hair and lipstick. You found your underwear clinging to a wall sconce. You grabbed that too and slipped it on, then you offered an apologetic smile.

“Raincheck?” you said. “I should go back to my place and get some training in.”

Ben rose a brow. No matter what he offered, you were never one to stay very long after a good fuck…

Not that he minded.

It was usually him giving the excuses to leave, trying to avoid the inevitable clinginess of women after sex. Still, this time he wouldn’t have minded the company.

Maybe next time.

Ben smirked as he drew near you again. He slipped an arm around your waist and pulled you flush against him. You held onto his arms and peered up at him questioningly.

“You mean to tell me you’re gonna walk downstairs, ride the elevator some thirty floors, and walk back all the way to your apartment with my come between your legs?” he asked.

He had to admit, the thought aroused him. Your cheeky little smile did too. Your hands came to rest on his chest, and you leaned up for a slower kiss. It was no less heated as your tongue slipped against his. You pulled away just as slowly, letting your teeth drag against his lower lip.

“Goodnight,” you said.

And you walked away from him. He enjoyed the show you gave him as your skirt swished against your thighs. By now he knew your every curve in intimate detail, and still he hadn’t had enough of you.

He knew he’d be feasting on you for a good long while.

News traveled fast in Vought Tower.

Especially about your little trysts with Soldier Boy. You knew by the too-polite smiles the staff gave you now, as well as the wide, cold berth Crimson Countess was giving you too. You had expected more of a retaliation from her, but you remembered that day in the gym all too well.

She probably thought you and Ben wouldn't last. Either that, or maybe she was afraid of antagonizing him. Maybe she was biding her time, waiting for her moment to get back at you. Either way, you weren't going to drop your guard around her.

In the meantime, Tessa was friendlier to you, and Tommy had finally stopped hitting on you. Swatto tried not to even look in your direction.

Mindstorm, of course, continued to be a hermit, but even Black Noir was more distant with you, which was the one change that disappointed you. The two of you sometimes shared conversations in the breakroom like you had that first day. You’d started to think of him as a friend.

So the next time he tried to pass you while you were making coffee in the morning, you finally said something.

“Hey."

It wasn't your most elegant start, but he paused, in that subtle way of his when his helmet was on. He looked over at you over his shoulder.

“Um…do you want some coffee?” you offered, raising your own mug.

Noir shook his head.

“Okay. Well, uh, how are you?” you asked. “Any exciting missions lately?”

Noir just stared at you. You didn’t blame him. You knew you sounded lame.

So you switched tactics. “Oh, yeah. How’s that movie pitch coming?”

At that, Noir tilted his head slightly. He took his helmet off, revealing his furrowed brows. It was like he didn’t know how to talk to you anymore, which confused you.

“I’ve actually got an audition coming up,” he admitted. “There’s this new movie, Beverly Hills Cop. It’s action, and it’s uh, funny.”

You smiled. “That’s great!”

“I’ve asked around, and I heard Eddie Murphy’s my main competition though. He’s got more experience in comedy,” he said, sliding a hand across the back of his neck.

You shook your head. “Yeah, but superheroes always make the studio more money. And I’m sure you nailed your audition. This could be really great for you!”

A smile flickered across his lips.

“Yeah, I think so,” he said. But the longer he stared at your face, the more his expression fell. “What the fuck do you see in him?”

Your smile fell as well. “What?”

“You’re new…boyfriend, or fuck buddy, or whatever it is you’re calling it. I mean, really,” Noir said. “The guy’s probably a walking STD. He doesn’t give a shit who he hurts, or who else he fucks, for that matter.”

Your lips pursed as you fought not to be hurt by his words. You schooled your expression.

“The idiots who get caught by him deserve to have their hearts broken,” you said dryly. 

“But not you,” Noir pointed out. “If you see through his bullshit, then why are you with him? For power? Like Countess, you think you gotta be with the big swinging dick in the room to get any respect?”

His disdain cut into you, and like all things, he had deadly accuracy.

“I have my reasons,” you said. “I don’t expect you to understand. You’re a fucking man.”

“Right. Still black though, in case you forgot what I looked like under this goddamn suit,” Noir snapped.

Your face warmed with embarrassment, and maybe shame.

“You think you’re so much smarter than everyone else,” he said. “That somehow, you’re better because you’re afraid to get your hands dirty. Well, guess what, Sirena. You’re no fucking better than Countess. You’re just like the rest of us.”

Your lips trembled with anger, but you didn’t have an easy retort this time. Noir left you seething where you stood.

Ben reclined in one of the plush office chairs and folded his hands.

“Let’s make this quick. I’ve got shit to do,” he said.

You were more quietly polite as you sat beside him. Inside, you were wary. Why had they asked for you and Ben into a meeting together? It felt like you’d been summoned to the principal’s office.

Across from you was Madelyn, perched on the corner of the conference table, while Stan Edgar sat beside her in a chair. He shared a look with Madelyn, whose smile was unreadable. Arthur sat to Stan’s left.

Madelyn addressed you and Ben first. “Well, as you know, Red Thunder is about to launch next week.”

Ben inclined his head expectantly.

“We would never want to meddle in your personal business. However—”

“Spit it out, sweetheart,” he said, with a superficial smile. You shot him a glance, seeing how Madelyn managed to keep her polite façade. She was almost a better actor than you.  

“We believe it would be prudent if you kept the status of your relationship…discreet for now,” said Stan. “Along with your breakup with Crimson Countess.”

“Why should I give a flying fuck about that?” Ben asked.

“Because Red Thunder isn’t just a political action thriller,” Stan said. “There’s also a romantic storyline.”

“You and Countess are meant to be in love in the movie,” Arthur finally chimed in. He seemed impatient with Stan’s roundabout way of saying it. “It’ll be better for everybody if you and Countess do the red carpet together, like we planned.”

“And the press tour as well,” Madelyn added.

Ben rolled his eyes, but you let out a small breath and nodded in agreement.

“That’s understandable,” you said. You looked over at Ben, waiting for him to agree too. You knew he wanted his movie to do well. He just didn’t like being told what he couldn’t do, even in the public eye.

He eventually nodded. You gave him a smile, making his lips tug upwards as well.

Yeah, you thought. We can hide this for a couple of months.

There were times when you could do nothing but blink at the sea of cheering people on both sides of the red carpet.

So many flashing lights.

You had never been to a movie premier before, and it was as exciting as it was overwhelming. A security team flanked around your group as your other Payback team members approached the photo op section.

Ben was just ahead of you, looking dapper in a dark green Armani suit. He was escorting Countess, who admittedly looked elegant in her Oscar-worthy red dress (not that she was winning an Oscar for this movie). It had a large skirt though, and it made it hard for him to even stand close to her while they posed for photos.

He had that debonair look perfected as he greeted press and guided Countess by the small of her back. She was giving a good performance herself, smiling up at him, occasionally rubbing his arm where she held onto him.

You would never admit to the sliver of jealousy pricking your heart, so instead, you focused on the poses Madelyn’s PR team had drilled into you as you took pictures alone. Your stylist had opted for something different than your usual black or violet color schemes.

Since this was your first red carpet, she wanted you to try something new. So she’d put you in a white ‘20s style gown, complete with intricate silver beading down the skirt. You felt a bit like a chandelier, but it did drape nicely off your form.

You shuffled along the queue of press and photographers. Black Noir and the TNT Twins were behind you in the lineup, while Countess was taking an opportunity to bask in the limelight, getting her pictures taken on her own as she showed off the billowing skirt of her dress.

Meanwhile, Ben had a hand in his pocket as he posed by himself. You sensed he was getting bored, even with so much attention on him.

“Hey, why not you two together?” a photographer called out to you and Ben, gesturing at you to get closer to him. You blinked wide eyes, but you did as you were told. Ben looked over at you, a smile tugging at his lips. He slipped a hand around your waist and guided you to his side.

While the photographer snapped away, Ben leaned over to your ear.

“You look stunning,” he said. His voice was smooth and baritone. “But I know I’m gonna like that dress even better when it’s a crumpled mess on my floor.”

You resisted the urge to bite your lip. Instead, you glanced up at him over your shoulder. You two shared a small, secret smile.

Click.

And the secret was out.

That brief, intimate moment between you and Ben became plastered across every tabloid in the city, and even some of the “respectable” magazines.

SOLDIER BOY + SIRENA SECRET AFFAIR?!

And various headlines of the like. Even Johnny Carson had something to say about it on the Tonight Show.

“Now, it’s Soldier Boy’s business of course, but if it’s true, I do feel a little sorry for Crimson Countess. Don’t you?”

The crowd in studio, much like the rest of the fans, were divided. Most women were sympathizing with Countess, while most men seemed to be supporting Soldier Boy (and you by extension).

This wasn’t how you wanted this to happen. It was no small amount of chaos from a PR perspective, and it had quickly made you a polarizing figure in the media.

You just didn’t expect how it would affect your real life, as you headed down Broadway after a successful mission. Not only had you stopped a man from shooting up a bank, but you and the TNT Twins had saved the entire staff and patrons inside. Without collateral damage this time.

You were just stopping off to grab a coffee from one of your favorite cafés when you noticed a woman waiting for the bus. She was glaring at you with a gas station slushie in her hand. You’d fully intended to ignore her, before she shouted something at you.

“Homewrecker!”

You frowned. Jesus, it wasn’t like they were married.

“Excuse me?” you said incredulously.

“You heard me, fucking hussy,” the woman said. She was wearing a red Crimson Countess-themed watch.

You rolled your eyes and aimed to walk past her. That’s when she tossed her slushie and hit you on the side of your head. You gasped as red berry syrup and ice drenched you and ran down your suit. It even stung your eyes.

Anger and instinct took over. When she approached you, you shoved her hard by her shoulders.

“Back off!” you shouted. You just didn’t realize that your eyes glowed with power when you touched her. You’d compelled her on accident.

The woman’s face went blank. Not only did she step back from you with her hands raised in surrender, but she kept walking backwards, all the way to the street.

Your eyes widened as you reached out to her. “Stop!”

You ran to her, but it was too late. Unfortunately for her, the bus arrived right on time.

You sat in Arthur’s office, your hands still shaking, your face, hair, and chest still covered in a sticky film of slushie syrup. He handed you a towel to clean yourself off and returned to his desk. It didn’t do much good.

“Thank you,” you said in a small voice. And you said again, “I-I…it was an accident.”

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. This isn’t our first rodeo,” he said. “The clean-up crew’s already working on the site of the incident.”

“What,” you cleared your throat. “What about her family?”

“Why do you think we have lawyers?” Arthur said. His smile wasn’t reassuring. “So just go back to your room, clean up, and relax. We’ll take care of this.”

Dully you nodded. You peeled yourself up from the leather chair, and you made the trek back to your room. You showered and got changed, but you still felt dirty. In your mind, you kept seeing the bus split that woman’s face into the pavement.

You were restless, so you got dressed into something comfortable and didn’t even bother with makeup when you went up to the penthouse. Ben let you in, though he frowned at the state of you.

“I heard what happened,” he said.

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. Tears stung at your eyes. You looked so small and fragile at that moment, Ben couldn’t help but soften ever so slightly. He guided you inside with a hand on your back.

“You hungry?” he asked. “Can have the chef bring something up.”

You shook your head and plopped down on his living room sofa. He made you a drink instead—a vodka soda with a lime, just like you liked. You stared at it, then you downed it all in one long go.

Ben raised his brows, but he sat beside you.

“It’s not your fault,” he said.

You set the glass down heavily on the coffee table and gave him a tearful look.

“How is that possible?”

“She disrespected you,” he said, with a note of darkness in his voice, in his eyes. “You had every right to hit back, put her in her place.”

You turned his words over in your head, but you couldn’t accept them. You didn’t want to justify this. You knew it was wrong.

Ben’s hand slid across your thigh, drawing your attention.

“If I’d been there, believe me. That shit wouldn’t have even had the chance to come out of her fucking mouth,” he said coolly.

Somehow, you’d already known that. You just didn’t know if it was his way of being protective, or if it was just him taking a slight against you as a reflection on him, as a man. Either way, it didn’t really make you feel better. Your tears bubbled over, no matter how much you held them back.

Ben’s frown deepened, though he hesitated for a moment. He tugged you over into his lap, where he reached for your cheek and got you to meet his eyes with your red and shiny ones. He captured your lips in a kiss.

If all else fails, distraction.

He worked your sweater off, then your bra, and guided you down onto the sofa. There he kissed his way down your neck while undoing the button on your jeans. You raked your fingers through his hair.

“Ben,” you whispered. “I—”

“Just relax,” he rumbled.  

You fell into the pull of him, letting his mouth and his touch intoxicate you. You didn’t want to let him make you forget. You didn’t want to let this be okay.

But you couldn’t help it. You wanted him, and maybe this time, you needed him too. 

AN: A little smut, a little angst, a little involuntary manslaughter. What else in the world of The Boys, amirite? 😅 But how do you like how her relationship (or not quite relationship) with Ben is developing?

Next comes even more supe debauchery, and a big monkey wrench...

Next Time:

You grabbed the nearest bottle of alcohol, went over to them, and subtly touched Countess’s bare shoulder.

Give that shot to Tommy, you compelled her.

With that small trill of your power, Countess stood straighter and beelined straight for Tommy. She grabbed him by the back of his head and surprised him with a deep tequila kiss.

Gross.

You grimaced at the sight, but when you looked back at Ben, he was smirking in amusement. He slid an arm around your waist and spoke closely in your ear.

“Let’s have some fun.”

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 7

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[amaranthineghost]

| RED IS FOR FERRARIS AND CHRISTMAS ( charles leclerc. ) |

ꕥ pairing: charles x reader

ꕥ summary: she decorates for the holidays with white and blue, but for him, it doesn't cut it.

ꕥ authors note: thank highschool french for some speaking knowledge (with some Google translate sprinkled in) also pretty short because i lack Christmas ideas and I wanted to get this out before i work ungodly hours this weekend but it's still cute so <3

"MON AMOUR, what is this white and blue bullshit?" the monégasque spoke from behind her. she turned to see a look of disbelief creased on his face. she scoffed as she strung the ribbons about the room.

shaking her head as she tied it off and stepped down from the ladder, she took a step back to admire her work, "figured you had enough red trauma in your life," she'd poke fun at charles, a smile gracing her face as he, undoubtedly, stared at her in admiration. but he'd prefer red.

"not funny, chérie." he deadpanned, though she could see the smirk that pulled at his lips, "red is better than whatever this shit is." he shook his head, hand on his side as he looked up at the decor.

she pouted, "but the white and blue looks good, besides it's too much work to redo it all."

"I'll help you."

she rolled her eyes, burning holes into his as she heavily sighed. she rolled her neck to look at the strung ribbon and ornaments she'd worked hard to decorate.

he admired the effort and dedication to her christmas spirit, and honestly, he was just poking fun. as long as she was happy, it didn't matter to him if they were blue or white, or even the most hideous of neons if that's what her heart desired. he just wanted to poke fun at his love for not using the color that dominated his life, in a good or bad way.

at the end of the day, he'd know that no matter how she decorated, it'd end up more beautiful than the previous year as he'd increase the budget at which how much she could spend because let's be honest, he knew she'd come home with more bags than what could fit in the apartment if he didn't limit her spending. she was like a little elf compared to the mountain of items she bought, excluding gifts.

he didn't care how much of his money she spent, he'd gladly push as much of it towards her as he could because he had more than he could ever spend, and if he knew one person that could, it was her.

his hands would find their way around her waist, sliding his face into the crevice of her neck and inhaling the addicting smell of her shampoo lingering in her hair, the faint perfume residing on her skin as well.

his lips would leave faint kisses along her neck, muttering against her skin, "c'est jolie, chérie, tu peux le laisser." (it's pretty, darling, you can leave it.)

her voice would go up an octave as his warm skin pressed hers, smiling widely at her work, "merci beaucoup, mais je pense que le rouge serait plus joli." (thank you very much, but I think red would be prettier)

"moi aussi." (me too.) he agreed with her, feeling the smirk of his lips against her skin, she rolled her eyes, but regardless, she'd pull out the red decor from the years prior. though she didn't mind him forcing his ferrari trauma on her, she did like the change up, but she knew that he'd secretly prefer red.

but she didn't know that he just liked whatever she did. anything she did was perfect to him and he loved every idea that her mind thought of. she was sacred and he would protect that.

he'd watch her vigorously tear down the blue, but left the white, which he didn't mind as it contrasted nicely against the dark red she'd chosen and the gold accents that complimented it.

she'd stand tired, half-lidded eyes as she turned around the room to admire her work when she'd hear the footsteps of her love from behind her. she heard glass clink on the end table of their living room as he caught her hand in his.

he twirled her around the room, the soft piano sounds of christmas music played throughout the apartment as they swayed to the sound.

"très belle," he'd coo, "juste comme toi." (very beautiful, just like you)

she'd blush, feeling the heat rush to her face, "et tu es très beau." (and you are very handsome) she replied shyly, a chuckle escaping his lips at her demeanor, even though she'd heard the words numerous times.

"merci, mon amour."

[princessgojolover]

Partition

Nanami Kento realises his grave mistake of pushing his wife away. He'll do anything and everything to get her back.

Ex husband!Nanami Kento x Reader

CW: NSFW, hate sex, Nanami being a piece of shit, mentions of divorce, angst with a happy ending, creampie, unprotected sex, choking, hair pulling, oral sex (m receiving), squirting, overstimulation, stalking if you squint, degradation, car sex, misogynistic undertones, coming from Nanami. (Not really in this part)

Part 1 of 3

wc: 1062

You’re not sure how things went wrong. You try to understand it all, as you lower yourself into the warm bath, with a glass of freshly poured wine in your hand. Eyeing the flickering candle across from you, the memories of your marriage with Nanami Kento come flooding back. The man who was once loving, doting and there for you became cold, neglectful and absent. When he first started to change, you brushed it off as a bad day at work, but a bad day became a bad week, which became bad months until you’d simply had enough. It was not what you had signed up for. While you take sips of the red wine that he had actually bought you as a last minute birthday gift, you reminisce on the beginning of your marriage. You remember how he promised to take care of you, how he promised to love and cherish you, until death do you apart. What a load of bullshit. 

It was laughable how you’d even trusted his words and trusted that you could live happily ever after. But what was not so amusing was Nanami’s reaction to him finding divorce papers on his desk on a random Thursday evening. He didn’t even bother to fight for your love, he’d signed the papers and left them on the refrigerator, held down by a souvenir magnet from your honeymoon in Italy. All it did was remind you just how unempathetic the bastard really was, and how much of a fool you were to even say yes in the first place. You were a fool to give up on your career and to serve as a housewife for this man, just for him to come home late without notifying you, just for him to let the food that you’d spent hours cooking for him to get cold, just for him to forget your anniversary and, evidently, your existence. Nanami did not honour your sacrifices, instead, he took them for granted and so a divorce is where it got him. You’re at least happy that the divorce was smooth. Nanami had given you a lot of his money. It’s not like he needed it anyway. You’d moved out pretty quickly into your lonesome apartment, which was much different to the large mansion that you were living in with your ex husband. Once again, you were an attorney and a single woman, ready to live your life alone. 

–

While you seemed to be taking the separation better than most, Nanami, on the other hand, was starting to realise the error of his ways. When he’d come home from a long, treacherous day of fighting curses and dealing with annoying colleagues, such as Gojo Satoru, there was no warm welcome waiting for him. There was no warm food there for him. And there was no warm pussy ready for him to fuck. Everything was cold. The house was cold, but never as cold as Nanami was to his own wife. Kento sighed, taking off his shoes and his coat, hanging it up before he walked into the living room. The house was empty. There were no more pretty flowers or pictures of you both decorating the room. There wasn’t even a rug anymore. You had taken it into your new apartment when you moved out. A loud banging on the door brings Kento out of his thoughts. “Nanami! You forgot your stupid umbrella.” Gojo shouts through the letterbox.

“Fucking idiot..” Kento mumbles, turning around to open the door for his ‘friend’. 

“How rude!” Gojo exclaims, laughing. He stops joking when he sees how dull the house actually looks. “What the hell happened here? The place looks like a horror movie setting.” Gojo jokes, pushing past Nanami. 

“Idiot, get the hell out of my house.” He mumbles, watching as his friend takes his shoes off.

“This place needs a woman’s touch, Nanami.” Gojo states. “I guess you are really suffering without your ex wife.” He adds, his tone laced partly with pity and partly with worry.

“The house looks fine. And it’s none of your business. Idiot.” Kento lies. It was more than obvious that Gojo was right. The house was missing warmth, love and creativity ever since you’d left. There were no hot meals waiting for him and Nanami did not have the patience to cook for himself, the empty takeout boxes on the coffee table acting as evidence. “I’m staying for dinner.” Gojo decides, not giving Kento the chance to refuse. He only sighs, turning the TV on. “Just order something.” He tells Gojo, who is busy trying to turn the TV on. When he finally does, a reality TV show comes on, which definitely does not seem suited to Nanami’s tastes. “You watch this shit?” Gojo laughs.

“She usually watches it.” Gojo already knows who he is talking about.

“Well she used to.” Nanami sighs. The truth is, Nanami had not changed the channel since you’d left. He would just imagine you sitting on your shared sofa, playing with his blonde hair after he’d had a long day. He’s lost so much without even realising. 

“You clearly miss her.” Satoru declares. Nanami looks up to meet his eyes. “You should call her. Ask her to meet for proper closure.” Gojo advises his colleague.

“I already got closure.” Kento states in return.

“Bullshit. Signing papers and agreeing on who takes what is definitely not closure. Did you even apologise to her? Did you even tell her how much she meant to you?” Gojo asks, starting to become annoyed. “You’re acting like you know everything again.” Kento starts to grow irritated.

“I do know everything. I especially know the feeling of regret.” Satoru affirms, putting the TV remote down. “If you don’t try then you’ll never get the chance to have what she gave you again. You’ll never get over it, meaning you won’t experience love like that again. And then you’ll just be a grumpy old fuck forever, and that’s no good for you or me.” He continues, joking on the last part. Nanami only sighs in response. He knows that his friend is right but he refuses to admit it. “Did you order yet?” He asks, hoping to change the topic. Although, he soon realises that he’d made a grave mistake. And he was going to try everything to fix it.

This is just a little teaser i guess for an upcoming short fic. Hope you like it.

[musical-shit-show]

little taste of heaven

Pairing: Adam (Hazbin Hotel) x Sinner!Reader

Inspiration: Prompts #53 (“why don’t you make me?”) from Prompt List #1 and #78 (“oh, i’m gonna fucking ruin you.”) from Prompt List #2 with added inspiration taken from a request from the lovely @odins-nsfw

Warnings: cursing, Adam is an asshole (what else is new), tiny bit of angst if you squint, general kinda rough smut (18+, MINORS DNI!!!), oral sex (female receiving), face sitting, digital manipulation, unprotected sex, Adam and reader are definitely toxic, enemies that are also lovers :)

Word Count: 2,149

Author’s Note: This took me a little longer to write but I’m very happy with how it turned out! Definitely getting more comfortable with writing smut, and writing for Adam is still proving to be very fun. Thanks to everyone who has interacted with my other Adam one shots (which you can read here and here); it seriously means so much to see the positive feedback. I still have one more request in my inbox, but I will definitely be writing for more Hazbin characters as the year goes on (especially since we don’t know when the show is coming back). But if you’d like to submit an ask, check out my About Me page, Prompt Lists, and other works in my Masterlist! Thanks and happy reading, depraved sinners!

“Hey, toots, settle a bet for us, would ya?” you heard Angel Dust call to you from across the hotel lobby. Ever since Charlie Morningstar successfully staved off an attack from Heaven’s army, you decided to join her crusade towards redeeming the seemingly irredeemable.

You were first assigned as a quasi-concierge, since you had spent most of your time in Hell bouncing from one side of the Pride Ring to the other. You hopped up from your desk and met Angel, who was slumped across the bar; Husk was silently cleaning a glass, a small smirk on his feline face.

“What’s up, guys?” you breathed, counting the seconds until your shift ended. You were grateful for the free accommodations that the hotel provided, but you didn’t expect the afterlife would involve diving into the wonderful world of customer service.

The porn star shifted his gaze to Husk, and you could tell they were both up to something. “Are ya fuckin’ the angel or what?” the bartender asked, his voice gruff. Angel almost spit out the swig of malt liquor he had just taken.

You feigned confusion, turning to the spider-like demon. “Angel Dust, I think I would know if I were fucking the biggest porn star—”

“Actor.”

“—Actor,” you corrected yourself, “on this side of Hell. You should know he’s not my type, Husk, honest.”

Angel Dusk tsked. “You know that’s not who we’re talking about, babycakes,” he said, his voice lowering, “We’re talking about the angel. Or, I guess the fallen angel.”

Oh, shit.

You shifted uncomfortably on the barstool, swirling the whiskey glass Husk had placed in front of you. “No clue what you mean by that.”

“Bullshit,” Husk said testily.

“See, I told you she’d lie,” Angel drawled, smiling smugly, “You can read it on her pretty little face.” You could feel the heat creeping up your neck.

Yes, you had been fucking Adam. And yes, you had been keeping it from the rest of the hotel residents. Even after showing up—in a new demonic form, no less—to be redeemed, you knew no one, not even Charlie, trusted him fully after the last botched exorcism and direct attack on the hotel itself.

But he was drawn to you almost immediately, singling you out as someone to pursue and torment. And stupidly, you found yourself attracted to him, despite your better judgement.

“Who told you,” you deadpanned.

Angel Dust’s gaze flickered from you to Husk and back again. He sure knew how to be a fucking tease.

“Your stupid boyfriend,” Husk confirmed, not wanting to torture you any longer.

“Ya shoulda seen him bragging about it last night,” Angel added, no doubt living for the drama this would cause, “He’s got some loose lips once the booze starts flowin’. Real keeper if ya ask me.”

Stomach in knots, you attempted to put up a brave face, even with their taunting. “He’s not my boyfriend,” you said definitively, now feeling anger welling up inside you.

This was all Adam’s fault. He couldn’t keep his fucking mouth shut and now you were the one dealing with the humiliating fallout. “Fine, fuck buddy, whatever,” Angel corrected, watching as you stood up from the barstool in a huff, “Doesn’t sound like it’ll last very much longer, given the look on your face.”

You rolled your eyes, completely over this conversation. “Would you excuse me?” you asked rhetorically, your voice dripping with poison. Even Angel looked perturbed for a moment.

Husk glanced over to his companion as you hopped off the barstool, practically seething, “Yeah, ‘course toots,” Angel called after you, still clearly tickled by this development. He loved this kind of soap opera drama bullshit.

You were still able to hear Husk say “Oh she’s gonna fuckin’ murder him,” as you climbed the steps and stomped to Adam’s room.

Pounding on the door, anger and embarrassment grew like a vicious virus inside you. When no one answered, you pressed your ear against the door and was met with the irritating sound of a whiny electric guitar.

“Perfect,” you muttered to yourself as you grabbed the ring of keys Charlie had given you when you were on shift. Even though you had technically clocked out, you weren’t above bending the rules to give Adam a piece of your mind.

You threw open the door, letting the thud as it hit the wall startle the fallen angel strumming his guitar lazily. “Jesus fu—” he started to say as he shifted on his bed, but then his eyes softened at the sight of you, “Oh, hey babe—”

“Don’t you ‘hey babe’ me, you fucking prick,” you spat, fire practically spewing from your mouth, “You’ve been telling people about us?!”

A tense pause.

“Maybe.”

Another pause.

“No?”

You could feel your eye beginning to twitch.

“Ugh, fine. Yes. But what’s the big deal?” Adam asked incredulously, finally putting his guitar down.

You paused for a moment, your anger simmering. The big deal was that you were embarrassed. That the thought of you and Adam going public made you look like a desperate sinner latching onto the only other wayward soul that would look your way.

And hell, you actually liked sneaking around, until he ruined it with his big, dumb mouth of his.

And maybe, just maybe, you were afraid that once the novelty wore off and everyone knew about you two, Adam would leave you behind and move onto the next shiny new toy to waltz into the hotel.

“Cat got your tongue, dollface?” he prodded, wanting to get a rise out of you. It was one of his new favorite pastimes.

You pinched the bridge of your nose, your anxiety being replaced by annoyance. “Jesus fucking Christ do you ever shut up?” The former angel smirked, his eyes flitting up and down your form.

“First off, don’t take the Lord’s name in vain,” he said as you rolled your eyes, “It’s fucking rude.”

You wanted to punch him.

“Second, why don’t you make me?”

That was the last straw.

You lunged at him, practically pouncing on top of him to kiss him hungrily. Adam knew exactly how to push your buttons, and pathetic as it was, you actually fell for it every time.

You were straddling him, and felt him wince as you bit his lip in the heat of the angry makeout. Adam knew you were pissed, and the more you fought for dominance, the harder he felt himself get. 

After all, pleasure always tasted sweeter with a little pain. And you tasted fucking delicious.

Adam groaned as you pulled away from him, your face still radiating with heat and anger. You weren’t letting him off that easily, and he knew it.

“Lie down,” you muttered, your eyes scanning his smug expression. “Now.” Wordlessly, Adam complied, lying on his back as you removed your pants and underwear swiftly.

Adam raised his head slightly just in time to watch you remove your shirt and throw it across the room in a huff. He waited patiently for you to do his own disrobing on his behalf; the lazy bastard loved when you rode him.

But he didn’t feel the desperate grasp of your hands around his cock.

No, instead, you climbed up his chest, until you were eye to eye, his gold pupils dilated. “I’m going to have to take drastic measures to shut you up, aren’t I?”

Adam felt his pulse quicken. “What’d you have in mind?”

A sinful smile spread across your face. “Something I know you hate,” you teased, cupping his face gently, doing your best to seduce him into submission, “And something I happen to know your bestie Luci is very talented at.”

Adam gripped your arm, pulling your hand away from his face. You became frightened for a second, before he started peppering the inside of your wrist with small love bites.

The games you played toed a dangerous line between love and hate, and luckily Adam had been fucking you long enough to understand the moves you were making.

“I’m not eating you out,” he said, his expression darkening, “And don’t try to bait me with that little pretty boy. It won’t work.”

You felt your pulse quicken; clearly you had struck a nerve. You just had to push him a little further to get your way.

“Is that why Lilith really left?” you said, rolling your hips against his, feeling how hard he was underneath you, “Because you couldn’t…satisfy her the way that Lucifer could?”

You knew this would send him over the edge. And the moment you looked into his burning gold eyes, you knew you had won.

A small victory, but a victory nonetheless.

“Oh, I’m gonna fucking ruin you,” he growled, tugging at the hair at the nape of your neck. You smirked as he finally complied and laid on his back. Adam would rather give up control than have his skills in the bedroom be compared to the King of Hell.

You knew he was insecure, and if he was going to be a dick about it, the least you could do was take advantage.

Before he could change his mind, you placed each thigh on either side of his head, kneeling until your aching core met the lower half of his face. After a few seconds of resistance, you felt his lips part and flinched as his tongue slid into you.

“I can’t believe this was—ah—” you bucked your hips as he found his way to your clit, “This was the only way to get you to shut the fuck up.” You felt a hum of disapproval as his slender hands found his way to your ass.

You smiled to yourself as you felt the annoyed hum that radiated from your stubborn lover’s mouth. Finding your pace, you felt the tension in your abdomen rising as Adam continued to eat you out.

For not loving the act, you had to admit he was good at it. Feeling his tongue swirl inside you sent a shiver down you spine, and you felt a yelp leave your lips as he slapped your ass as you continued to buck on top of him.

In retaliation, he tried teasing you with small sucks and flicks, but you didn’t care; the fact that he was focusing on your gratification for a change was rewarding enough.

After a few minutes, though, the fallen angel had had enough of your domineering; if he was going to finish you off, he was going to do it his way.

Coming up for air, he placated you by circling one of his fingers around your clit. “Alright baby, you got what you wanted,” he breathed, “Now it’s my turn.”

In one fell swoop, he flipped you over onto your back, and disrobed in the blink of an eye. ‘Showoff,’ you thought to yourself, annoyed by the lack of his mouth on your pussy.

Before you could protest, two of his long fingers found his way inside you, pumping and curling to hit your sweet spot.

“After this, I’m gonna fuck you into oblivion,” Adam muttered, his tempo growing more erratic, “You’re lucky I’m even bothering to get you off after your little outburst, but you can consider it a favor this time.”

You tried to focus more on satisfying sensation you were feeling than his bitching. “It’s the least you could do after that bullshit you pulled with Husk and Angel,” you said, feeling a bead of sweat roll down your back as you tightened around him, “They’ll fucking crucify me.”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic, baby,” he cooed, resting his thumb on your bud as he continued to pump his fingers into you, “Now be a good girl and cum for me.”

It only took a few more moments of stimulation for you to humiliatingly come undone around him, knowing he’d make you pay for it later.

Getting off always seemed to come with a price when it came to fucking Adam; at the very least you were able to shut him up for a few glorious minutes.

You contemplated if the grilling from the other guests and constant bickering was worth it, but you didn’t have much time to change your mind. Adam pulled you off your back and onto your stomach, and you winced as he slammed his cock into you, your ass on full display as he took you from behind.

You gripped the sheets, the friction of him inside you equal parts painful and gratifying. ‘Another question for another day,’ you thought, burying your face into the mattress as he fucked you at an agonizingly delicious pace.

Right now, you had a pissy angel to placate and a couple of sinners to swear to secrecy.

Royally fucked didn’t even begin to describe the mess you had gotten yourself into.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

thanks for reading! please like/comment/reblog if you enjoyed and want to read more! :)

[coffeewithcocoa]

Drunk Confessions

Prologue

Human Alastor x Male Reader

I’m spitting random shit outta my ass and this is one of them.

(LOOK AT THIS MAN! MY EYES ARE BEING BLESSED!)

———————————————————————

You and Alastor were good friends. The best even! You too have been growing up together and both your parents have loved seeing you both do everything together. Whenever someone would push him down you would be at his side helping him, same went for you. He chose to be more violent though.

Even when you both were teens that didn’t plan on splitting you up. Though when you did have to move back to Europe, you and him realized that you wouldn’t be able to talk.

So you just declined moving back there all together. Your parents kept trying to say that it was for the better and you’ll visit soon but that didn’t convince you. It took 18 hours, with the help of Alastor’s mom, to get you to leave.

Tears ran down your face as you remembered all the good times with him.

-

“AHEM-!” Someone snapped you out of your thoughts. “HM- Yes Mimzi?” You chuckled at the embarrassment, that was probably like the fifth time today. “How about you go talk to him. You’ve been gawkin’ at him ever since he walked in!”

She did have a point. “No thank you, Mimzi.” You turned your attention back over to the bartender. “Another drink please Husker?” He rolled his eyes and fetched you another drink. “Thank you~!” You sang out to him.

“Look..you high haven’t talked ever since you moved.” Mimzi said to get your attention turned back towards her. “Just try and talk to him again?” She spoke again, rising an eyebrow at you

“I would love to..I truly would, but it’s been so long and..WHERE are you going?!” She chuckled as she got up from her chair. Her height being very noticeable as her flapper dress straightened out from being seated.

“If you’re not gonna do it, then I am sweetheart.” She waved her hand at you as she moved closer to your old friend. “Here’s your drink..” You quickly got up from your chair, ‘shit!’ But when you got there it was too late. You quickly turned your heals and walked back to your spot.

“Thank you again for the drink Husk.” You snatched the drink that he healed and left to the back room of the speakeasy. God, you hated when people fought your own battles for you. You get that they’re trying to help but damn.

You closed the door with a nice click noise. A soft sigh slipped past you, taking a nice sip from the whiskey that you so desired. The room that you were in held all kinds of liquor. Starting from whiskey and ending at wine.

‘Looks like I can drink myself to death over here.’ You quickly downed the rest of your drink like it was a shot and grabbed a similar bottle to the Whiskey you liked. Opening it with a nice pop sound, you started refilling your glass with it.

The smell of liquor quickly filled the room. A satisfied hum came out from you as you decided to drink your way till you were drunk. Even though that was pretty risky but you didn’t care.

“Anyways Alastor, sweetheart, how have you been doing?” Mimzi smiled at Alastor as her and him were walking back got the area that she was last seen with you. “Oh I’ve been doing quite alright! The radio broadcasts have been just swell!” He chuckled out in his normal happy self.

Mimzi made a lip smack sound, “Well isn’t that just nice. I’ll be happy to let you know that..where the fuck did he go.” She blinked at your seat a couple of times before turning around to face the taller person.

She chuckled out loud while tinkering with her gloves. “Okay look. I didn’t lie to you but he did disappear.” Her voice wasn’t that confident. Since Husk was right there he scoffed, calling her out on her fake bullshit. “You were the one who fucking scared him off, son of a bitch.” He mumbled the last part so the both of them wouldn’t hear.

“What did I do to scare him off?!” Mimzi started getting defensive. “You called over the very fuckin’ person that he didn’t want to talk to.” Husk blinked at Mimzi before heading away. Alastor just stood there smiling before moving towards Husk.

“Hello old pal.” Alastor gave Husk one of the fakest smiles know to him. “The fuck you want.” Husk turned around so he could clean some bottles. “I just have a favor.” Alastor chuckled. “No need to get all pissy now. I just want you to know where you saw him go!” Alastor said taking a glass of Whiskey.

———————————————————————

I’m going to write a part 1. For right now I guess this is a prologue! FEAST MY LOVELY CHILDREN>:)

Part 1

[illdowhatiwantthanks]

hii! i love your casey x autistic!reader fics and i had a request. you know how in a lot of the episodes where the men get sa’d, they think it means they’re gay and they blow up in the interrogation room shouting slurs and everything? i’ve always wondered what it would be like for a queer detective to be in the room seeing someone say that in front of them. could you do something like that where a suspect gets defensive and starts spewing homophobic stuff in the interrogation room where detective!reader is interviewing them and casey is watching from behind the glass? pre-existing relationship if possible and maybe some fluff as well :)) these are just some ideas you can really do whatever you want - i give you full creative freedom 🙏

Hey, friend! Hope this is what you're looking for! Much love to you! 💕 –illdowhatiwantthanks

Interrogations

Casey Novak x autistic!fem!reader Warnings: homophobic comments, threats of sexual violence, autism times, police (duh), explicit language (let me know if I've missed anything!) Word count: 1.2k

Summary: A threatening, homophobic outburst from a victim has you overstimulated and panicked. Casey is there to help calm you down. That is, if she can calm down herself.

“Sir, it’s in your best interest to be honest with us,” you said, rubbing your temples.

Round and round you’d gone with this man. This married man with 2.5 kids and a white picket fence. He’d been assaulted at a gay club, and the implications were clear. You sat down across from him. Your partner, Resendez, leaned against the back wall, letting you take the lead on this one. As the only out, queer detective working special victims, you were often the one they chose to interview queer victims or even suspects. There was a level of relatability; you were better than most at getting them to open up.

This man–clean cut, button-up, eye swollen shut, split lip–you felt sorry for him. You felt sorry for anyone who wasn’t out, wasn’t free to be themselves for whatever reason. It had taken you a long time to come to terms with your own sexuality, even longer to be comfortable in a relationship. But you knew the cognitive dissonance it took to lead a “straight” life while trying desperately hard not to be gay. He’d given you some bullshit story about being drugged and dragged to the gay club, but there had been no drugs found in his system. He was clearly just trying to come up with an excuse for being there.

“Mr. Berg,” you started again, softening your voice. “There’s nothing wrong with enjoying sex with men. We just need to know what really happened so we can catch the person who did this to you.”

Suddenly, he exploded, standing and throwing his chair against the wall. You nearly fell out of your seat as you backed toward the wall and Resendez surged forward to cuff him.

“I’m not a fucking faggot, you bitch!” he spat. “Maybe you like pussy, but that’s not my problem! You just need a dick in you! I could do it, too, I’m not a fucking fag!”

You kept your eyes fixed on a scratch on the wall, trying not to react. You were used to people saying ignorant things. You were used to perps saying all kinds of disgusting things to you, but this outburst had rattled you more than usual.

“Just go, Y/L/N,” Resendez said, nodding toward the door.

You didn’t need to be told twice. You let the door slam shut behind you, leaning against it and exhaling shakily.

“You okay?”

You jumped a bit, then calmed when you saw it was Casey. She’d been watching the interview.

You nodded, but your hands gave you away, shaking at your sides. Casey frowned and pressed one of your hands between hers, flattening it and attempting to massage the stress away. You were trying hard to stay calm, but Berg’s outburst–the force of it, the volume–had taken you off guard. Normally on the job, you went into situations expecting belligerence or violence, and your body and brain were primed for it ahead of time. But this had come so out of the blue. Your heartbeat was fast and loud in your ears, and you closed your eyes, the lights overhead too bright, too much.

You could feel yourself growing panicked, not because of what Berg had said, but because you knew you were getting overstimulated, and you couldn’t control it. Of course, your squad knew you were autistic. Huang evaluated you every six months to ensure you weren’t burnt out and were able to perform your duties. There were parts of solving a case that being autistic made you very good at, but there were also things it made hard for you. You hated for your squad to see you like this, to see the worst parts of being autistic. You wanted them to trust you, to believe that you were capable of doing your job and doing it well. But nobody else fell apart like this. Just you.

“Sorry,” you whispered to Casey as your breathing grew more rapid.

She wrapped her arm around your shoulder protectively. “It’s okay. Come here, come with me.”

She led you to the bullpen and knocked lightly on Cragen’s open door. Cragen looked up and was about to ask Casey what she needed when he noticed her gesture subtly toward you–hunched, eyes on the ground, fingers tapping the sides of your head as your body rocked back and forth.

Cragen gathered his papers and stood, squeezing Casey’s arm as he passed. “Take as long as you need,” he said quietly, leaving his office.

Casey pulled you into the office and shut the door behind you, turning off the overhead lights and shutting the blinds.

“Okay,” she sighed, wrapping her arms around your rocking body and squeezing you tightly. The longer she held you, the more your heartbeat slowed, the more even your breaths grew, until you were left shaky from the spent adrenaline, limp in her arms.

“I’m sorry,” you said again, lowering yourself into a chair and rubbing your eyes.

Casey sat next to you, taking your hand in hers again. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for, honey.”

You disagreed, but you didn’t want to argue the point. Casey would win anyway. She was a lawyer, after all.

“I want to go in with you next time when you question Berg,” she added.

“Casey…” you protested.

“I don’t want him talking to you like that.”

You smiled softly at her and pushed a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Casey. Honey. I’m a detective. People are gonna say shitty things to me.”

“Yeah, well,” she grumbled. “If he threatens you again, I’m slapping him with an assault charge.”

“He’s an assault victim, Case. It’s your job to protect him.”

“Maybe so,” she conceded, leaning forward to caress your cheek. “But my number one job is to protect you.”

You melted into her touch. Usually it was you protecting people. Your whole job was protecting people, and you were good at it. But Casey? Casey looked after you. Casey made you feel safe.

You leaned in to kiss her lips softly, making sure to meet her eyes when you pulled away, so she knew you were feeling better, less overstimulated.

“I’m okay, honey,” you whispered. “I promise.”

The rest of the squad made it a point to be extra normal when you and Casey emerged from Cragen’s office. Someone who didn’t know you might think you and Casey had been in there for less-than-professional reasons, but the squad knew the only reason you’d lock yourself in there was for you to regulate yourself. And they never wanted you to feel embarrassed about it.

You made your way back to the interrogation room where Berg now sat handcuffed. Resendez observed him through the two-way mirror.

“Want another crack, Y/N?” he asked. “I’m getting nothing.”

“Might try good cop, bad cop with Casey,” you told him. “Or, well, I guess it’d be bad cop, worse ADA who’s pissed you threatened her girlfriend.”

Resendez shrugged and grinned at you. “Worth a shot anyway.”

Casey squeezed your hand before following you into the interrogation room.

“Alright, Mr. Berg. Allow me introduce ADA Novak.”