bastardfucker

[bastardfucker]

Happy father's day to him <3

[bastardfucker]

harsh rejection

[bastardfucker]

I think one of my favorite things about Homelander is the fact that while he is an insane, deranged and evil man, a lot of the people around him are almost or just as bonkers as he is, so sometimes they'll say something so outta pocket even he gets baffled and since Antony is such a great actor we immediately get 10 new reaction images of homelander as a result.

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the weird schrödinger's emotion that is "that character death was narratively satisfying and emotionally impactful and ultimately the best way to handle their character arc" simultaneously with "noooo but I wanted them to live :( :( :("

[bastardfucker]

Your Name in Lights - Chapter 2 (Soldier Boy x Reader)

Summary: All eyes are on Soldier Boy's new movie, especially after his leading lady drops out just as filming starts. An aspiring starlet with a few supporting roles to your name, you're offered your big break when Vought unexpectedly chooses you to replace her. Stardom finds you almost overnight, but your rocky relationship with Soldier Boy eventually eclipses your career, and you have to decide how you want your legacy to be defined. [AO3 Link | Masterlist]

Note: I'm so sorry it took me this long to get the next part posted! The past few months have been hectic, but I promise I won't keep y'all waiting too much for new chapters going forward. I appreciate y'all's patience with me and the support for this fic!

Word count: 4.2k

Warnings: Power imbalance, age difference, implied drug use (by Soldier Boy), sexually explicit content.

After your publicity-laden date with Soldier Boy, you could hardly shake the papers documenting almost your every move. Each mention of your name, every photo, posed or candid, you devoured with as much enthusiasm as the gossip rags that endlessly speculated about the authenticity of yours and Soldier Boy's relationship. Between Frank's keen business sense and Vought's influence, you'd inexplicably endeared yourself to the American public in a matter of weeks.

Your mere presence rehabilitated whatever damage the Olivia Yearly situation might have done to Soldier Boy's image. Still, you couldn't quite shake the encounter you had with her at the club. Trying to talk to Frank about it did little to ease your worries. He echoed your co-star's sentiments that she was just jealous, trying to sabotage the movie since it looked like it was going to be such a big success after all. As far as he was concerned, if you kept following Soldier Boy's lead, your career was set.

Easy enough to do. Between takes, the two of you would smoke together, often sharing a cigarette, the slightest thrill rushing over you whenever he'd lift the lipstick-stained filter to his lips after you. Simple yet intimate things like that kept you up at night with your hands shamefully between your thighs and giving coy answers to reporters and fans alike by day when they asked if you and Soldier Boy were an item.

Up until then, you'd been lucky enough to avoid messy casting couch politics, but those waters became murky with this film's strange circumstances. You'd never met Soldier Boy until the first day of filming, yet you always felt like he expected something out of you. The longer breaks filled with dry humping and heavy petting in his dressing room didn't clear things up, but you never let him slide his hands too far up your skirt or take your bra off after unbuttoning your blouse. He'd narrow his eyes at you, call you a tease, but seemed content with fooling around.

His dressing room betrayed his vices, an utterly fascinating glimpse at the debauchery he partook in during his time offset, you assumed. Lewd magazines, alcohol, and drugs—prescription or not, littered his coffee table and vanity. Despite these, his magnetism kept you in his orbit, his standing offer of a rendezvous at his Chateau Marmont suite more enticing as the days went by.

With three weeks of filming left, your separation from Soldier Boy impending, you gave into him in the comfort of your dressing room, far more professional than his, with its inoffensively girly design, satin upholstered furniture and plush carpeting that made going home to your lackluster apartment in the evenings feel like a drag. He waited until your stylist made her leave before pouncing, quickly taking her spot behind your damask vanity chair, his lips hot on your neck as he slid his gloved hand down the front of your dress to grope your breasts.

Leaning into his touch, you couldn't help but stare at him in the mirror.

There was a difference between movie magic and the real thing. Soldier Boy's face was practically everywhere, but no magazine mock-up or grainy television broadcast could come close to capturing what he looked like in person. Even after weeks of being so intimately acquainted with him, sometimes you couldn't quite believe your eyes, almost getting distracted by his looks while filming a scene together.

You wanted him, shamefully, completely.

Though your dressing room was hardly the place for the intimacy you craved, you could still get a taste.

Placing your hands over his, you gently moved them off of your body, a twinkle in your eye at his confused expression reflected in the mirror. The smirk that spread across his face when you stood up and promptly got on your knees before him sent a wave of heat through you.

Your manicured fingers worked to unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants.

A split second of hesitation captured your thoughts for a moment. He wasn't even fully hard yet, and his length was intimidating. Glancing back up at him, your breath caught in your throat at the wicked gleam in his eyes, silently daring you to back out. Even if you wanted to, you couldn't, the both of you knew that all too well.

Bringing your trembling hand to your mouth, you spit into it, a string of saliva dripping from your lip into your palm.

He groaned at the sight, his cock twitching slightly. "Don't keep me waiting."

You took his cock in your hand, slowly pumping the length, though it didn't take long for him to grow hard at your touch. His words from your night out echoed in your ears—did being a superhero really affect him this way, too?

Feeling the way his cock twitched in your hands, you almost made yourself dizzy imagining what it'd feel like inside you, Soldier Boy's strength and experience more than enough to tear you in half.

"Open your mouth," he ordered.

You did so dutifully, and in return he shoved his cock in your mouth until he hit the back of your throat. He chuckled at that, the way you gagged, mascara-laden eyes watering.

"Gettin' ahead of yourself, sweetheart," he mocked. And you couldn't even bring yourself to hate him for it, not the way Olivia Yearly did with her confidence and self-respect. You basked in his attention, that he wanted you like this, so you tried relaxing your throat, focusing on the perverse pleasure pulsing between your thighs when he manhandled you further, his hand gripping the back of your head.

"'M close, doll. You're doin' so good for me." His words slurred together, and it wouldn't have surprised you if he were drunk. But you wanted to be the one to make him fall apart.

Reaching out, you cradled his balls in your hand, his deep groan practically vibrating through you.

With a harsh thrust, he came in your mouth, his hips shuddering as he bruised the back of your throat with his release. Any attempts to swallow were in vain, and you felt his cum spill from your lips, onto your chin and chest.

"Look at you, made yourself a mess for me," he teased gruffly, wiping the spit and cum that gathered on your bottom lip with his thumb. Your tongue slipped out of your mouth to wipe it from his finger. "Makes me think you're making the wrong kind of movies."

You shook your head. "I don't—" Your eyes widened as you croaked, your throat sore.

He hummed almost contently at the way your voice sounded. "Good thing this isn't a musical, huh?"

"You're the only co-star I've ever—"

"Good, that's a good girl." The combination of his praise and his lips on your neck made you shudder, the situation perversely intimate as he cleaned his own cum off of you with flicks of his tongue that made you wish his focus was elsewhere. "Gonna let me return the favor sometime?" he murmured against your skin.

"Yes," you whispered. "I—I want to spend the night with you."

"I knew you were crazy about me," he said, "but I understand, a girl like you needs to play hard to get this early in her career."

You smiled weakly. "Don't act like you haven't had fun chasing me."

"You were getting pretty close to me writing you off as just another tease—"

Before you could retort, the all-too familiar sound of knocking on your dressing room door and the request for you on set cut through the conversation. Soldier Boy pressed a searing kiss to your lips, one that made you whimper when he retreated, leaving you alone with your mind hazy, a wet ache between your thighs that only he could relieve.

The day dragged on after that, as if you'd never be dismissed for a short break in shooting. Three glorious days to call your own, and you were almost certain of how you'd be spending one of them when Soldier Boy slipped you the hotel's matchbook, his room number written on the back of it.

You hadn't told anyone where you were going when you left your apartment a little after ten that night. Left your friends in the perfumed booth of the little bar you'd meet Friday nights, rainbow of cocktails in manicured hands as they guessed who your paramour was. The quick flick of your eyes away from the table had given it away when one of them excitedly uttered Soldier Boy's name.

A taxi dropped you off in front of the hotel, and you rushed inside, hoping to have avoided drawing much attention to yourself. You were hardly the biggest name in the lobby, dripping delicious opulence, every inch designed to remind you that there's a life beyond the one you lived, a better one that glittered right before your eyes. Jewel-adorned fingers cradled cigarettes, the smell layered with designer perfumes and colognes, as if to mask the scent of scandal and impropriety.

It was the type of place that would chew up an impostor and spit you out without thinking twice. Each polished surface reflected your distorted visage, as if no amount of makeup could hide the trepidation that churned in your stomach. Against your will, your voice trembled as you asked the receptionist to ring up to Soldier Boy's room, almost assuming his invitation to be some kind of joke. Instead, she pleasantly said that he was expecting you, and pointed out which elevator to take to get to his suite.

The elevator ride up was quick, hardly gave you any time to settle your nerves before you found yourself in front of his suite. You knocked, unsure if you should announce your presence or not. Maybe you weren't the only one he was expecting that night.

Shifting your weight on your feet, you were taken aback when he answered the door in little more than a floral silk robe that delicately hung off his muscular frame.

"I was starting to think you weren't gonna show," he said.

"Why, getting ready to call your plan B?"

"More like call Frank and tell him to send your pretty ass over here."

You smiled, feeling the slightest bit more confident. "I'm glad you think it's pretty."

"That's one way to put it," he said, moving to let you into the room.

If the lobby was impressive, his suite was enough to take your breath away. A chandelier glittered crystal tears above you, intricate gold leafing on the walls catching even the faintest light. The plush carpet swallowed the sound of your heels as you made your way inside. You'd heard of rooms like his, the kind starlets like you enter before your life changes, for better or worse.

Next to an armchair upholstered with blue velvet, an ice-filled silver bucket sat on top of a side table, presenting a bottle of champagne like the sword in the stone. With the confidence of King Arthur himself, Soldier Boy pulled the bottle out.

He opened the bottle with an impressive pop, froth slipping down the neck and onto his hand. His eyes never left yours as he licked the space between his thumb and index finger. Your mouth felt dry when he handed you a glass nearly filled to the brim, though it'd do little to quench your thirst.

"To a night to remember," he said, lifting his glass.

Against your better judgment, you downed the champagne, fizz and alcohol clouding your senses for a moment before you drifted back down to earth.

He placed a hand on your lower back, leaning in close. "Nervous?"

"I've never been with a supe before," you confessed, setting your empty glass in front of you.

"Wouldn't matter if you had, none of 'em are me."

"No, I don't think there's anyone quite like you."

"That's for damn sure."

He cradled your chin with a tenderness he usually reserved for your on-screen embraces, and it didn't take much more to melt into him, following his lead, giving him the passion his lips demanded of yours.

You just barely came to your senses in time to quietly implore him to let you take off your dress yourself instead of ending up an unwearable heap of expensive fabric at his hands. His ferocity didn't let up as you fumbled with your zipper, his lips devouring every inch of newly exposed skin as your dress slid down your figure and finally pooled at your feet.

After taking off your bra and panties, he pushed you onto your back, the plush bed practically swallowing your body, the buttery sheets making your eyes flutter shut in bliss. Satin melted between your fingers as you grasped it, feeling Soldier Boy's lips along your decollete, over each of your breasts, and down your torso until he was there. So close, yet achingly far away.

"Please," you begged softly, all simpering eyes and pouting lips as you looked down at him. "Don't tease me."

"Fuck," he breathed. "You're one to talk."

"I don't tease. I'll give you anything you want."

"Any other broad saying that, I'd think she was easy, but you…"

You smiled, fluttering your lashes at him. "I don't do this for everyone."

"You better not."

He pounced on you, his mouth on yours again, taking your breath away with a hunger so primal it thrummed through you, as natural as your heartbeat, pulse racing with runaway desire. No man had ever wanted you like this before, and if you didn't know Soldier Boy, you'd have thought he was desperate. Hell, the way heat dripped between your thighs, you were, too.

His fingers found your clit, rubbing tantalizingly slow circles as if to frustrate you on purpose. You whined into his mouth, lifting your hips, only for him to shove you back down.

"Don't," he warned.

"But I want you so bad."

He cursed under his breath, and it didn't take much else for him to shed his robe, stroking his hard cock as he stared you down.

"Don't you have a condom?" you asked.

"I'll pull out."

"Soldier Boy—"

"Jesus, for all the broads I've banged in this town, I haven't gotten any of 'em pregnant yet."

You frowned.

"C'mon baby, don't be like that," he appealed, rubbing your clit again, watching as you struggled to maintain your composure. "I still have to return the favor from earlier."

"Okay," you relented, "just be careful."

You were almost certain the latter half of what you said fell on deaf ears, as he wasted no time in sliding his cock between your wet folds. He had enough decency to ease himself into you, and you tensed at the slight discomfort.

"Fits like a fuckin' glove," he groaned.

You whined as he thrust into you, your pussy clenching around him. You almost felt embarrassed for acting so dainty, so virginal, you wanted him to think of you as a woman, someone to take seriously on- and off-screen, as an actress, maybe as a lover too.

"Keep going," you gasped out. "I can take it."

"Been thinkin' about this since I first saw you," he huffed gruffly in your ear as he found his rhythm, his cock filling you, almost pushing you to your limit, "in that stupid fucking Burt Lancaster movie."

"What?" you asked breathily.

"You played a shopgirl. I told Vought I wanted you."

And they handed you right over to him, even despite the situation with Olivia.

But the part of your brain that was overcome with a lust-soaked haze spun out of control at his confession. Maybe he ran her off because he wanted you that badly. And wasn't that the case of almost everyone in LA? Getting by on looks and charisma, hoping to catch the attention of the right person, the one who could make it all happen. To be the object of America's first superhero's desire—you almost felt the way you imagined you would if you won an Oscar. Fuck, maybe they'd give you one for this part, it already got whispers going. If anything, you could see yourself on that stage in a year or two, tearfully thanking the Academy, Frank, Soldier Boy.

You dug your nails into his shoulder blades as his thrusts became slower, deeper.

He was close.

So were you.

He kissed you again, stealing the moan from your mouth, every sound you made captured by his lips, his tongue. Your eyes fluttered shut, and almost when it felt like far too much, that you couldn't breathe or think or feel, it came back to you all at once in a crushing wave of pleasure that almost threatened to drown you in it when he pulled out and came all over your heaving chest with a guttural groan.

You were almost jealous at the way he laid down next to you so casually, while you felt like you were recovering from getting the wind knocked out of you. He grabbed a corner of the flat sheet that had been kicked aside and wiped your chest off with it, kissing and massaging your breasts as he did so. So odd and tender, being taken care of by him.

"What do you say we have another drink and then go for round two?" he asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

"Maybe something stronger than champagne this time."

He grinned. "Good girl."

A smile spread across your lips as he got up from the bed, a phantom pleasure rolling in your hips as you waited for him to return, certain you were in for a long night.

You awoke with a groan, a gentle ache pulsing through your body. Soldier Boy was fast asleep on the pillow next to you, his hair tousled from the night before, lips parted the slightest bit. He wouldn't want you to stay, you figured, the soft pang of heartbreak filling your chest as you realized the game was over since he finally got what he wanted out of you. He certainly wasn't a one-woman type of man.

Pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek, you sat on the edge of the bed and gingerly stretched your limbs as your eyes scanned the suite for your clothes, strewn about the night before without care as to where they landed. Following a soft 'pop' when you kicked out one of your sore legs, you heard a groan from behind you.

Soldier Boy blinked, his green eyes still bleary with sleep. The hazy vision of you on the edge of the bed was almost too good to be true, and he instinctively reached out for you, his fingers brushing your bare back and sending a slight shiver down your spine at his gentle touch.

"Jesus, what time is it?" he grumbled.

"A little after eleven," you said, looking at him from over your shoulder.

"It's still early, what's the rush?"

"I didn't tell anyone I was going to be here."

He raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

You avoided his gaze with an unwarranted bashfulness considering everything that happened the previous night. "I just didn't want to embarrass myself if things didn't go well."

Soldier Boy rolled his eyes, pulling you back into bed with him. "Well, considering you're still able to walk, I'm not close to being done with you yet, so you can keep them wondering where you sneaked off to."

Without putting up much more of a fight, you gave in to his lips indulging in your exposed skin. "If you insist."

You didn't see or hear from him again until you were back on set the following day.

That morning, you slipped into your dressing room the way you slipped into your clothes the evening before, in a hurry, frazzled. The rest of the day blurred in a haze of makeup brushes, costume changes, cigarette smoke, and second takes. Every moment on set was scripted—except for the way yours and Soldier Boy's eyes lingered on each other between takes. Maybe you didn't have enough time or know him the way you thought you did, but you couldn't read him. Not that day, or the next, or even through the end of the week.

You were tired, not from the long hours on set, but from pretending what happened between the two of you didn't matter.

In the time crunch to film the last few scenes and re-shoot one or two the studio didn't quote care for in their preview, you barely had a chance to talk to Soldier Boy. Not for lack of trying, but every spare moment pulled you in a different direction than the last. Frank certainly kept you booked and busy, wanting to capitalize on every moment of filming, every inkling of something brewing between you and Soldier Boy, the whispers of your electric performance with your leading man.

You opened the door to your dressing room, expecting the usual clutter of scripts, coffee cups, and the fading scent of cold cream and Chanel. Instead, you were struck by the pop of color in the otherwise pastel room.

A blossoming bouquet of deep red roses, gardenias, and a single white lily, delicate and dramatic, sat in the middle of your vanity, nearly blocking the entire mirror, filling the room with a light, sweet fragrance you wished you could have bottled. Your heart leapt as you approached the gift.

It was his handwriting—careless, masculine, familiar from the corners of discarded script pages and lunch orders he’d scrawl between takes. You sat on the little velvet stool in front of your vanity, heart pounding louder than the last thunder effect that was faked on set. Your hands trembled as you lifted the attached card. For my favorite co-star, with Soldier Boy's signature beneath.

You pressed the card to your lips, rouged smile blooming against cardstock.

After the agonizing radio silence, it was more than something.

His voice pulled you from your swooning. "You like 'em?"

"Absolutely," you said breathlessly, standing up to face him. "I've never gotten anything so beautiful."

"Glad I could be the one to change that," he said. "Besides, I owed you."

"What for?"

"If it weren't for you, Liv would've made sure I was persona non grata around here."

Your stomach sank. "Oh, of course."

Without reason to, you jumped back from him upon hearing a knock on the open door.

"Sorry to startle you," Frank said.

You shook your head. "No, no, you're alright, Frank."

"I'm sure I don't have to tell you, but you've got one hell of a star on your hands," Soldier Boy said.

"Don't I know it." He smiled. "See, kid? All your hard work's paying off. The picture isn't even wrapped up yet, and you've got offers coming in."

"I'll leave you two to talk business," Soldier Boy said. "Have a good night."

"Good night," you whispered, hating the way tears welled up in your eyes as he left.

Turning away from Frank as he entered, you tried to compose yourself.

Frank whistled lowly. "Who sent you the garden? Him?"

Your voice cracked. "Yeah."

"Hey, what's wrong?"

"It's silly."

"Try me."

"Filming ends in less than a week. After that, I'm probably never going to see him again and—I can't believe I let myself fall for him. I knew it was all for the press, but part of me hoped—"

Frank's smile was sad, sympathetic as he patted your shoulder. "You're not the first, and you won't be the last. Don't be so hard on yourself."

"Easier said than done, Frank."

"Besides, the way the people at Vought are talking, they'll want you and Soldier Boy to do some promotion before the premiere. Keep everyone talking about you. Interviews, television spots, magazine features, you name it."

"And in the meantime?"

"In the meantime, I'm getting calls from MGM and RKO practically duking it out in my office to borrow you for one of their upcoming pictures, and Max Factor wants you for a new lipstick campaign."

You sniffled. "That doesn't sound too bad."

The prospect of a busy schedule, more work for the next few months than you'd gotten in two years combined, wasn't enough to chase away your thoughts of Soldier Boy. You couldn't help but feel embarrassed. Another girl falling for the fantasy, thinking something about the script in your hands was real, that you could make it come to life by sheer power of will.

When you cut for the last time, you wanted to ask him what happened next, off screen.

Far too soon for your liking, the lights dimmed, the crew's cheers and applause drowned out by your beating heart, and you had to pretend the tears that welled in your eyes were out of gratitude. Over the past few weeks, you'd gotten much better at pretending, as if that weren't the bulk of your job.

You managed to catch him before the clamor of the set being broken down and recycled for another fantasy tore him away from you.

"I guess this is it," you said, your smile doing little to hide the disappointment in your eyes.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"Filming's wrapped. We probably won't see each other again until the premiere."

He raised an eyebrow. "What makes you think I'm letting you go that easy?"

"I wasn't sure. You didn't say anything before, and I—"

"I'm saying it now. I want you, doll. For keeps."

Your heart fluttered. "Then you've got me."

Taglist: @waynes-multiverse @youdontknowe @sl33pylilbunny @ladykitana90 @urmomissuperhotsworld @riah1606 @i-love-ptv @laurenow87 @bastardfucker @ladysparkles78 @zepskies (If you'd like to be added to or removed from the taglist, please comment on this post!)

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A-Train & Starlight VS The Deep

The Boys 4 x 07 The Insider

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p3

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Supe Preference: How They Propose

Requested: I know you already did a preference with how they propose but please please please do this with the supes! I think it would be amazing. thank you thank you thank you ♥️♥️♥️ - anon

A/N: I hope you like it my love!!! This was so fun to write, I love exploring their characters!!! Feedback is always appreciated 💕

Homelander makes sure he's got a crowd with his supporters when he pulls out a ring and gets on one knee, asking you to marry him. There are cameras and reporters there, too. They will run stories about the most powerful man in the world finding his one true love, the sparkle in his eyes when he looks at you, the faulter in his voice when he asks you. Everyone who saw it for themselves says it was the most romantic speech they've ever heard. This will do great for his public support and image. His fans are all about traditional values. Homelander staying a bachelor makes his fans antsy, nervous, like he can't settle down. Now he's doing that. You, John, and Ryan will be the perfect little family. An instant family, actually. People cheer and whistle and cry. You say yes, because there is no other choice. And you hug and kiss, and he directs you were to look and what questions to answer like when the wedding will be or the color palette you'll choose. He makes jokes and quips that everyone laughs at.

The Deep asks you to marry him on television. You were placed together because you have fantastic ratings, and he could use a little boost in the public eye. You haven't been "dating" for very long but, as he puts it in his speech, he doesn't need to have known you for a long time to know that you're the one for him. You smile, and even she'd a few tears before putting the ring on and kissing him. You're not actually getting married, at least not legally, but Ashley already has color swatches and flowers and venues. It'll be the wedding of the century. You make sure, behind closed doors, he doesn't get the wrong idea. You put on a good act. You're smart and stunning, and you could have any Supe you want. When the inevitable divorce happens, you'll come out the better for it. Interviews, book deals, and talk shows. You'll ruin him. You just have to get through the next few months without any hiccups. You have to make sure he doesn't do anything stupid or vulgar. That, in itself, is a full-time job. You talk through grit teeth in your smile, telling him not to fuck this up for you.

A-Train does it out of desperation. You and Reggie were high school sweethearts. You were together when he was let in the The Seven, and you've stayed with him through every bump in the road. When things with Homelander get really tough, really scary, Reggie pops the question. It's not the most romantic drive for the proposal, but if anything ever happened to him because of Vought and Homelander he wants you to have access to everything he'd leave behind. All the money, the deals, everything. You can only get that through marriage. He loves you, he's loved you forever, but he does this not solely out of love. He can't. This decision is too big and has too much weight. He has to protect you, to save you from what he's had to deal with. You don't know any of this about the engagement though, so you say yes, proclaiming it one of the happiest days of your life. You understand some of the tension, but Reggies too afraid to go into detail. You'd worry too much. He can't do that to you.

Maeve blurts it out during a fight. You're tired of being hidden. You're tired of keeping things so low-key, rescheduling because she has to go play house with Homelander. You're both yelling at one another when she asks you if you want to marry her. Of course you do, you say, angry that she would think anything different. Then let's get married, she yells. Fine! She storms off into the linen closet where the small box sits between two towels. You hated them and said they were too scratchy. You never would have looked there. She hands it to you, and when you open it, you're speechless. You always said things about jewelery in passing: silver or gold, the cuts you like, the gems if diamonds aren't your thing. You're angry and then you're not. It's a lot to think about (knowing you and Maggie could never go public, it would put you and her in far too much danger) and yet, the answer is so clear. Yes. Yes you want to spend the rest of your life with her. That's all you've ever wanted.

Firecracker asks you live on her show. You always knew she'd want to include her fans. They're a big part of her life, her popularity, and a huge reason why she's even part of The Seven. Her audience has heard stories about you from the beginning. They heard all about your first date, how cute she thought you were. It's only right they be included in this. So, under the idea that you're doing an interview about being in a relationship with one of The Seven members, you agree. When she asks you, you're speechless. Everyone is cheering and whistling. Of course it's a yes! That episode of her show goes pretty viral. Some of her fans are upset and turn on her, but for the most part they're all happy you're now engaged. Ashley is happy, too. Misty's ratings haven't been great as of late, but this stunt makes her a fan favorite all over again. Her audience agrees with the traditional values of marriage, family, etc.

Soldier Boy always wanted to get married, settle down with a white pickett fence, and a couple of kids. He certainly thought it would have been sooner than this, but he's still young, and he wouldn't have found you if everything hadn't happened. Still, it's been on his mind. He sees you with him in that house, with those kids. There's one thing to be grateful for out of all this. Ben isn't a huge romantic. You're not expecting rose petals and candles. Instead, he rolls over in bed one lazy morning and pops the question. You think he's joking, saying that's not funny when it's something you wanted forever. He's serious, though. He's got the ring and everything. It takes you a minute to realize this is all real. Of course, you say yes! When you do, he attacks you in kisses, grinning from ear to ear. You go out and celebrate, drinking until the room spins, telling anyone who will listen that you're getting married.

Sister Sage comes to you with a list of pros and cons. Some are big, like the commitment of marriage and the issues behind the traditional values. Others are relatively small to you, like the number of books she'd bring with her when you got a place together. You and Sage have been together a long time. You know she has thousands of books, you know she's thoughtful about everything except her own messiness, her own chaos. It's up to you to decide. She leaves her list with you, but before she can step through the door you're already saying yes, explaining your feelings about the whole situation. You love her. You know she has faults, God knows you have yours. And she still loves you not despite them, but because of them. She wasn't really expecting you to say yes, at least so immediately, so you'll have to wait on the ring. It was the easiest yes of your life.

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Finally drew the one and only Ashley in all her glory 😩

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THE BOYS — Supes + Alter Egos

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bro.

[bastardfucker]

Really tempted to write a Soldier Boy fanfic where the Reader is his handler before Vought had him shipped to Russia, and he finds her again after a timeskip mid fic when he gets out, only she’s much older now. Unwilling to lose her to death by old age now that he has her back and he knows she didn’t betray him, he injects her with compound V in the hopes of making her immortal like him. 👀.

[bastardfucker]

Power Play (Soldier Boy x Reader)

Summary: So, you lost focus and had a consensual workplace relationship. It happens all the time. Maybe not quite like this.

Note: Female reader, but no other descriptors are used. Crazy ass 80s Vought debauchery. I might be a little rusty, but it was fun getting back into writing readerfics after two months🖤 Do not interact if you’re under 18, terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: Power imbalance, cheating (Soldier Boy’s with Crimson Countess). Mentions of drug use. Soldier Boy is his own warning. Sexually explicit content involving elements of forced intox, semi-public sex, breeding kink.

You were dizzy. With Vought’s investor gala rapidly approaching, you spent the better part of your day camped out in your office, flipping back and forth through your rolodex to call and confirm catering, entertainment—you still couldn’t believe the board of directors actually approved Duran Duran’s booking fee—and transportation, off the top of your head. You already told Stan Edgar you were taking the following week off, which he had no qualms about—so long as the gala went off without a hitch.

You nearly jumped out of your skin when you were interrupted by a knock at your office door, which you’d left open in an effort to be available in the lead up to the event.

“Don’t tell me Edgar’s got you working tonight,” Soldier Boy said, walking in when he saw he had your attention.

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