#I’ve never had a good mouse

[lifesmpliar]

He’s so real because that’s how I would feel too.

[fantasticgothicpeachsludge]

Something something Agent Haldwell being from Jennifer’s movie something something probably her love interest something something they probably had weird “you’re coming with me little missy” kind of banter written by weird male writers something something Jennifer changing the misogynistic script something something drowning him in his own piss

[dragonsholygrail]

oh to be a mouse hybrid toyed with by a cat hybrid who just wants to see you squirm in every way

Ooh when the Cat Hybrid’s owners told him they were getting him a new little friend, you, a Mouse Hybrid were by far the last thing he was expecting.

He wanted another cat to mess with, to play with… to mate with. But he couldn’t stop himself from noticing your plump round form scurrying about the house or the constant skittish look in your eye as you surveyed your new home. Perhaps you would do.

From that day on he would terrorize you mercilessly. Chasing you around the around the house when your owners were gone, saying he was gonna devour you when he finally got his claws into you. Backing you into corners just to see the delicious terror in your eyes. Plopping his large form right on top of you so that you couldn’t escape him even as you scrambled desperately to get away.

It was never ending and as much as you wanted to say you hated it, it felt far too good. The Cat hybrid severely underestimated you, forgetting you too were a hybrid with all the same perks. You could smell his desire in the air every time he chased you. And you had grown addicted to the scent. To feel so wanted and yearned for, especially during the chase, nothing else could compare.

He would only ever mess with you when he felt like it so you figured you might need to give him a little push. Using yourself as bait you use your owners creaky stairs to your advantage. As soon as the first step creaks, the Cat hybrid’s head snaps up from where he’s perched. His eyes meet your wide ones for only a moment before you’re bolting down the stairs.

As soon as you hear the pounding of paws behind you, you smirk wickedly knowing your plan had worked. Cute little squeaks leave your mouth as you run throughout the house, narrowly trying to avoid being caught. He should’ve realized how much you like this. You’re much faster than him after all.

After rounding the next corner you wait a moment for him to catch up. Seeing a flash of fur and then you’re off. The Cat Hybrid pauses for a moment as he realizes what you had just done. What you’ve actually been doing this entire time.

Adrenaline pumps through his veins as he chases you at lightning speed. He’s catching up to you in no time and by the look of genuine alarm in your eye he knows this wasn’t a trick. Instead of his usual antics he pounces on you, sending you both tumbling to the floor.

“You messin’ with me, little mouse?” He growls in your ear, his body pinning you to the hard wood floor. You don’t even bother to squirm, your heart beating out of your chest as you stare up at him.

Before you can even blink he’s shoving his hand down your pants and swiping his fingers through your folds, your slick drenching them with how aroused you are. He chuckles lowly, rumbling purrs vibrating into your chest and straight to your core.

“So this has been a game to you, huh? A bit of foreplay before I inevitably snap and fuck you dumb.”

You find you can’t even answer, panting breaths escaping you as you rock with his hand that’s slowly rubbing against all the right places. He devilishly smiles and pushes two fingers deep inside you, causing your hips to jolt as you cry out.

“Well, sweetheart, you’ve done it. I’ve snapped,” he says with a menacing snarl as he pumps his fingers roughly against your walls, his claws just barely scraping them and setting your nerves on fire.

You try and be as good as you can, staying perfectly still for him as he fucks you with his fingers, but your small reaction only seems to infuriate him further. He picks up pace, licking and nipping at your throat until you too break and your moans echo throughout the empty house. A secret smirk plays on lips.

That is until the Cat Hybrid plays a trick of his own. Pumping his fingers inside you, drawing you closer and closer till you’re just about to fall off that edge when he suddenly stops and withdraws. You whine, squirming now as you begin to beg for more.

“I see through you now, sweet prey. You won’t be winning this one.”

You only start to realize your mistake as he starts fucking you with his cock, the large length stretching you so good. The natural curve hitting the soft spot inside you perfectly. Then he starts doing to you exactly what he did with his fingers. Bringing you up to the edge and then pulling you right back.

He’s as merciless as he is when terrorizing you and in a way he’s doing just that but in a whole new way that drives you more insane than the chasing ever did. Eventually you’re a sobbing mess, your tears and your arousal forming two separate puddles on the floor with how in need you are right now as he starts up again.

You jump as the sudden sensation of his wet nose nuzzling into your neck, his purrs even louder now. You immediately cling to him, meeting his thrusts and trying to chase your growing orgasm before it’s taken away again.

“Do you think you’ve earned the right to cum for me now?” The Cat Hybrid asks and you whine, nodding rapidly.

You feel his grin against your skin before he pulls out and starts slamming his cock deep inside your cunt. His intent clear before he even says a word. But when he does it’s like music to your ears.

“I agree. Cum for me, mate.”

This time as you get closer and closer to the finish, he doesn’t stop. Instead, his hands slips down and rubs tight circles into your clit. Your orgasm breaks through almost instantly and you scream as you milk his cock for all it’s worth, sending him right into ecstasy with you.

But the sound of the car door doesn’t leave either of you much time to bask in pleasure coursing through you. Luckily the Cat hybrid takes the lead, maneuvering you both as he curls around you, keeping you stuffed full of his cock but hiding any of the evidence. You’re too weak to do anything but shift into how he molds you. Making it appear as if you two are asleep and cuddling in the hall.

“Aw, look at them. Finally getting along,” you hear your owners say who are none the wiser to what’s really going on.

Cat Hybrid bf rocks his hips, snapping them back inside you quietly and forcing a squeak from your throat. He chuckles under his breath and nuzzles into you, not planning on moving away from you for hours. Wondering how many more orgasms he can rip from your tight pussy.

[shea-like-the-butter]

Friday, April 7th 2023

When I'm with you, well, it's just like it's the first time

April 7th never meant as much as that night ✨✨✨

[pucksandpower]

Never Have I Ever

Charles Leclerc x Sainz!Reader

Summary: a game of Never Have I Ever leads to revelations your brother wishes he could forget (and half the grid running for their lives)

“Alright Y/N, it’s your turn!” Lando says, turning to you with an impish grin. “Give us a good one!”

You bite your lip, looking around the circle of F1 drivers sitting cross-legged on the floor of Charles’ palatial hotel suite. It’s a rare night off for everyone during the season, and Charles had suggested a casual get-together for some bonding time. That, of course, led to drinking games, and now here you all are, a few rounds into Never Have I Ever.

“Hmm...” you say slowly, tapping your chin as you think. Your brother, sitting to your left, playfully shoves your shoulder.

“Come on, hermanita! Don’t go easy on us,” he says with a laugh. You roll your eyes but can’t help smiling.

“Okay, okay! Never have I ever … raced in Formula 1,” you declare. A chorus of groans goes up around the circle as everyone except you drinks.

“That was just mean, Y/N!” Lance protests, though his eyes are twinkling with amusement. You grin and give a nonchalant shrug.

“All’s fair in Never Have I Ever!”

The game continues, the questions getting more and more outrageous and personal. Though you’re the only non-driver here, you feel completely comfortable around these guys. You’ve known most of them for years now through your brother, and they welcomed you into the F1 family immediately. It’s fun to sit back and observe their antics and camaraderie.

“Alright, I’ve got one,” Daniel says, leaning forward with an devilish smirk. “Never have I ever … slept with someone on the grid.”

You feel your eyes widen slightly at the implication, but force yourself not to react. Still, you can’t help but notice Fernando slyly taking a sip of his drink out of the corner of your eye. The rest of the drivers turn to look at him in surprise.

“What?” Fernando says with an innocent look. “Have you seen Mark Webber?”

The others burst into laughter at this excuse, the tension effectively diffused. As all eyes stay focused on Fernando, you slowly lift your own glass to your lips and take a subtle sip.

Just as you’re lowering it though, you feel Carlos stiffen next to you. Uh oh. You chance a glance at your brother and immediately regret it at the sight of the shock and anger flashing in his eyes. Before you can say anything, Carlos is on his feet.

“Alright, which one of you was stupid enough to touch my sister?” He demands heatedly.

Instantly, almost comically, Charles, Max, Lando, Pierre, Alex, Oscar, and Logan scramble to their feet and take off running in different directions.

Carlos’ eyes nearly bug out of his head before he takes off after them, yelling Spanish profanities. You sit there stunned for a second before dissolving into laughter. Only Fernando and Daniel remain seated beside you, chuckling and shaking their heads.

“Carlos! Hermano, calm down!” You call after your brother fruitlessly. Still giggling, you turn to Fernando. “I should probably go deal with him before he actually hurts someone, huh?”

“Probably wise,” Fernando says with an amused smile. “Good luck, chica.”

You give him a grateful smile before jumping to your feet and hurrying after Carlos. You find him in the next room, gripping a cowering Lando by the front of his shirt.

“Please don’t kill me!” Lando squeaks out. “It was one time!”

“Carlos, stop!” You cry, rushing over and grabbing your brother’s arm. “Let him go!”

Carlos drops Lando immediately, who scurries away like a frightened mouse. Your brother whirls on you, face still red with anger.

“Y/N, what the hell? You never told me you’ve been with these pendejos!”

You hold up your hands in a calming gesture. “I know, I’m sorry! It just sort of … happened. With everything going on in the paddock, it’s hard to avoid getting close to people. A girl has needs!”

Carlos drags a hand down his face, looking positively murderous. You place a gentle hand on his arm.

“Carlos, listen to me. I’m a grown woman, I can make my own choices. I know you want to protect me, but I’m okay, I promise.”

Your brother’s expression softens slightly as he looks down at you. He pulls you into a tight hug.

“Lo siento, hermanita. I just worry about you, that’s all. The grid is like a family, but still ...”

You hug him back reassuringly. “I know. But you don’t need to go all Spanish Inquisition on them, okay? I can handle myself.”

Carlos sighs but finally relents with a small smile. “Okay, okay. I’ll try to restrain myself from beating them all senseless.”

You laugh. “Much appreciated. Now come on, let’s get back out there and pretend this never happened, yeah?”

Carlos winces slightly but agrees, allowing you to lead him back out to the others. Most have returned to the circle now, shooting your brother wary glances. You give them a reassuring smile as you sit back down, Carlos settling tensely beside you.

“Right!” You say brightly. “Whose turn was it?”

There’s a beat of uncertain silence before Logan clears his throat.

“Uh, I believe it was mine,” he says. “Never have I ever … had a podium finish.”

There’s a communal exhale of relief as the game gets back underway. You catch Carlos’ eye and give him a pointed look, reminding him of his promise. He sighs but gives you a subtle nod and an apologetic smile.

The questions continue on, ranging from silly to risqué, though nothing quite as explosive as before. You’re relieved to see your brother laughing and back to his normal self.

As the night winds down, you’re struck by a feeling of gratitude and affection for this group. Despite the drama and tensions of the season, at the end of the day, you’re all a family.

These guys welcomed you with open arms, and you know Carlos is just looking out for you. You lean against your brother with a contented sigh, smiling around at the drivers joking and chatting happily. No matter what happens on and off the track, you know you’ll always have each other.

***

“Alright everyone, glasses up! We’re doing this again!”

You grin around at the drivers gathered once more, this time to celebrate the one year anniversary of your first Never Have I Ever night together.

“Who’s starting us off this time?” Lando asks, bouncing excitedly in his seat.

“Ooh me, me!” Alex volunteers, raising his hand eagerly. Everyone chuckles.

“Alright Albon, give us a good one,” Lewis encourages.

Alex strokes his chin thoughtfully. “Hmm, never have I ever … raced in F1 before 2019.”

A majority of the group drinks at that one. “Trying to knock out us old farts, eh?” Fernando jokes, elbowing Alex.

The questions continue on, each one prompting laughs and cheers among the group. You’re filled with the same warm contentment as last year, smiling around at your dear friends.

About halfway through, you clear your throat. “I’ve got one! Never have I ever … been an uncle.”

Most of the drivers take a drink between smiles and coos about nieces and nephews. You notice Carlos doesn’t drink and turn to him with a playful grin.

“Uh, hermano, I think you forgot to drink for that one,” you say pointedly.

Carlos looks at you in confusion. “What? None of my sisters have kids.”

You simply keep staring at him meaningfully until realization dawns on his face. His eyes go wide, flicking down to your still-full glass of untouched alcohol.

“Y/N … are you ...” he breathes in disbelief.

You nod again. “I’m pregnant.”

For a moment Carlos just stares at you in shock. Then his face starts turning red, hands clenching into fists at his sides.

“You’re pregnant?” He repeats through gritted teeth. The other drivers fall silent, exchanging uneasy glances.

“Who did this to you? Who’s the cabrón who touched my sister again?” Carlos demands, voice rising.

You shrink back slightly, smile fading. Maybe you should have told him privately.

“I … Carlos, please, just calm down,” you say weakly.

But your brother is beyond calming down now. He whips his head around the circle, glaring daggers at each driver.

“Who was it? Who permanently defiled my innocent baby sister?”

You open your mouth uncertainly, not quite sure how to answer. Before you can though, Charles abruptly jumps to his feet.

“WellwouldyalookatthetimeIgottagonowbye!” He blurts out hurriedly before turning and sprinting from the room.

“LECLERC!” Carlos bellows, tearing off after him. You can’t help the laughter that bubbles out of you at the sight. Some things never change.

The other drivers are cracking up too. “Think we should go make sure Carlos doesn’t actually kill him?” Lando asks with a grin.

You wave a hand dismissively. “Nah, let them work it out. Charles will tire him out eventually.”

Still chuckling, you lean back against the couch next to Fernando, who has an arm draped casually around your shoulders.

“Those two, I swear. Will Carlos ever stop seeing me as his baby sister?” You muse with a smile.

Fernando grins and shakes his head. “Doubtful, chica. But that’s how brothers are. He’s just watching out for you.”

From the other room, you hear a crash followed by yelling in multiple languages. You and Fernando share an amused look.

“At least he didn’t try to fight the whole grid again,” you point out. Fernando barks out a laugh at the memory.

“Give him time. The night is still young,” he says with a playful wink.

You laugh again, cuddling into Fernando’s side. Even with your brother’s antics, you truly feel so lucky to have this group in your life. Friends turned family.

As you hear Carlos’ angry shouts getting closer, followed by Charles’ panicked apologizing, you think to yourself that there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

[papercorgiworld]

Boyfriend material

Reader is starting the new year in search of a little fun and a boyfriend. Pansy helps here pick the right outfit and guy.

For Blaise, Theo and Mattheo this will be a two part ‘porn with plot’ thing. This is part one and holds the plot. No Enzo part two, because apparently I can only write so much smut before my brain goes brrrr. Sorry.

I added a part 2 for Enzo!

Warning: reader has a little dirty make out daydream. Slytherin dudes have some naughty thoughts as well.

I had fun writing this. I really hope you like reading it. Kisses.

“New year, new me. I’m no longer a boring girl. I’m going to find myself a nice, good looking guy and get crazy with him.” You started as you sat down next to Hermoine. She laughed in response. “You don’t need a guy to have fun or to be cool.” But before you could say anything Pansy plopped down next to you. “Yes, you do, so who’s the lucky guy?” Hermoine rolled her eyes.

You looked around the great hall and settled on a handsome sixth year. “Him.” You tilted your face his way, subtly pointing. “Ew! No! Boring!” Pansy spat. “What’s wrong with that guy?” Hermoine asked, narrowing her eyes at Pansy. “You wanna be popular, you wanna have fun, you gotta date someone on top of the food chain.” Pansy said as a matter of fact and Hermoine mocked the last words of her sentence.

You ignored the tension completely and simply asked. “Who’s on top of the food chain?” Pansy looked around to search for a good example. “Aha!” She said pleased, when she saw who just walked in and grinned at the girls next to her. “Oh no.” Hermoine sighed as she saw a particular group of Slytherins enter the great hall. You simply pursed your lips at the idea. But you brought yourself back to reality. “How’s a gray mouse like me gonna date the top of the food chain?” Pansy simply wiggled her eyebrows and Hermoine was definitely worried now.

***

The next day you made your way to sit next to Hermoine in class. With your skirt short enough to make you question its purpose and your shirt tight and revealing, you now had all the guys paying attention. “What’s this?” Hermoine questioned, obviously referring to your outfit. “This. This is my battle-outfit. I’m conquering the top of the food chain.” You replied with confidence. Hermoine scoffed and raised an eyebrow. “Then why is the top of the food chain looking at you like you're their next meal.”

You quickly glanced around the classroom, getting a little nervous, you softly bit your lip. You want to defend your case to Hermoine, but accidentally drop your quill. As you reach for it, Enzo beats you to it. Handing it to you with a sweet smile, but also giving you a cheeky wink.

Theodore, who sits next to Enzo, shakes his head and huffs. “Don’t fall for it. Pansy’s clearly up to something.” Enzo smiles brightly at his friend. “Oh mate, I’ve already fallen. Badly, madly. And it’s okay, you can leave your fallen brother behind. He’s going to a better place, somewhere between her squishy thighs.” Mattheo who sits behind Theodore speaks up. “Oi, T. slap him for me, will ya?” And before Enzo even realizes what Mattheo said, Theo has already given him a light smack on the back of his head. Blaise bites his lip and comes to Enzo’s aid. “In his defense, look at those legs.” Slurring the last word and leaning closer to Mattheo, his eyes never leaving your body. Mattheo pushes his chair a little and leans back for a better view of what his friend is talking about. Mattheo is definitely seeing something he likes, his eyes scan your body. His tongue gently rolls over his lips and he swallows hard thinking about all the noises you would make if he could have his way with you. “Mister Zabini, mister Riddle, care to explain why you don’t have your books out yet.” Professor McGonnagol asks, looking down upon the boys. “Sorry professor.” Blaise immediately reaches for his book, while Mattheo only looks down at his desk like a pouty 5 year old that just got caught.

After class Theodore lets out a frustrated grown as you walk past them in the hallway. You did nothing aside from sitting there and being pretty, yet you had him fantasizing about things that made him loosen his tie halfway during class. “I should’ve skipped class. I wrote down less than when I’m not in class.” Enzo looked confused at Theo’s statement, questioning his logic. Mattheo was about to say something, but Blaise interrupted him. “That simp! Look at him.” Blaise pointed at Draco shamelessly leaning against a wall trying to casually make conversation with you as Pansy tries not to laugh at Draco’s desperation. “No backbone, those Malfoy’s.” Mattheo scoffs. “Yeaah.” Blaise affirms absentmindedly, staring at you as you smile at Draco. Such a beautiful smile, but I bet that mouth can do more than just smile. Blaise was smirking as his thoughts got less innocent with each passing second. “We should save the poor girl.” Enzo states, pulling Blaise out his trance. “Yeah.” Blaise and Enzo quickly make their way over to you. Making Pansy grin at Mattheo and Theodore. Raising her eyebrows as a way of non-verbally taunting them: are you two really gonna just stand there with your pathetic male pride. “Tell me you have smokes. I need one.” Mattheo sighs in frustration after he finally managed to pull his eyes away from you. Theo nods. “Girls and their games. They’ll be the death of me.” Theo can’t help but take one last look at you.

***

“Pans, I really don’t think this is a good idea. Hermoine’s right I’m attracting the wrong kind of guys.” Pansy eyes roll up in annoyance. That bloody Granger-girl can squeeze the fun out of everything. “You can set them straight. Believe me, if you bat your eyes they will start behaving.” You make a face disagreeing with her. “I’m looking for fun, yeah, but I’m also looking for boyfriend material, they’re not that.” Pansy huffs. “You know nothing.” You frown in confusion. “Just play my game. You’ll get what you want.” Pansy starts walking again, but then turns on her heels looking at you still confused. “You are gonna have to pick one, preferably by tonight. I would hate to see the Slytherin boy band break up, because I really don’t think they can share.” You bite your lip softly and your mind wonders.

If Pansy was really speaking the truth and you could just have your pick. Which one? Him. If he would push you against this cold hallway wall right now you would immediately spread your legs so he could lift you up. Your neck and your jaw would be peppered with his soft kisses. You would wrap your legs around him and he would buck his hips into yours. Your mouth would fall open slightly because of all the sensations building up between your legs. He would mercilessly attack your mouth and his hands would explore every inch of your body. Squeezing your butt, making you instinctively rub your core against his growing bulge. He would cup your breasts, his thumb caressing your nipple through the fabric. “Everything alright?” Luna snaps you out of your wonderful train of thoughts. You look at her sheepishly. “Yeah. I better get going. Class, and stuff.” You push your thighs together, before fully letting go of your daydream. “I have those moments too you know, when I forget about reality.” Luna comforts you as you both walk to class. “Uhu” Is all you manage to say, not really knowing what to think.

If Blaise is you’re guy: part 2

***

“Your party outfit is a shirt?” Hermoine asks, not hiding her judgment. “It’s an oversized shirt, which makes it a dress. It’s fashion, Granger, get over it.” Pansy snaps. “You’re corrupting my friend.” Hermoine hisses at Pansy. “Oh, darling. I’m not corrupting. But some guy might.” Pansy winks, Hermoine’s mouth falls open and you stand there sheepishly looking at your feet. “I’m wearing shorts under this dress. So it’s really not that bad.” You finally manage to say. “Alright, let’s party.” Pansy says and she’s the first to walk through the doors of the room of requirement.

For Mattheo: part 2

For Theodore: part 2

For Lorenzo: part 2

[dreaisgrayte]

Off the Record | Muzan Kibutsuji x fem!reader

warnings: NSFW, MDNI, food play (with wine), fingering, squirting (first-time ayyyye), oral sex fem! receiving, raw sex, rough sex, reader gets that good stuff, cum on chest

word count: 2.4k

a/n: guys I may have an addiction to the Demon Slayer cast... will I seek help for it...? Absolutely not.

His eyes gleam with the soft glow of the light over your head. Behind him are massive windows that show the cityscape of modern-day Tokyo, the twinkling neon lights like stars you could touch. You’d always dreamed of coming into this building, but never had you thought you’d be sitting here – across from the biggest name in Japan and quite frankly, the world. 

It made your whole body buzz with child-like excitement. As an interviewer, you had to scrape by on nothing until the right opportunities presented themselves. When your boss specifically asked for you to hold the in-house interview, you knew this was your big break.

“So, Mr.Kibutsuji, the paparazzi have difficulty finding you.” He smirks, leaning back against the large couch he sat on across from you – only a table separating you from the mysterious man. 

He peers off to the side, studying a magnificent piece of artwork on his wall. “It’s because I don’t want them to.” He blinks the crimson of his eyes back on your sweet face. His answer is matter-of-fact and if he went on like this, the interview would surely be a bust. 

You laugh politely, looking down at your approved list of questions. The thumping in your chest tells you that this isn’t a good idea, but you set it firmly down on the table in front of you, grinning up at the worldwide star. “Is that so? Mind if I ask you some questions off the record?” You scoot to the edge of your seat, watching as the ravenette perks up at your question. 

It intrigued him. He asked for an inexperienced rookie to simply ask him the questions on the sheet and not pry into his carefully secluded life. Yet, here you were, the questionnaire already on the table with a perky smile on your lips. Muzan feels the corner of his mouth quirk into a grin. He blows out a breath, gesturing in a circular motion freely with one of his hands still strung across the back of the couch. “You’re going to no matter what, so why not give you what you want?” He hums, distracted by the way your knees part ever so slightly to position yourself more comfortably on his furniture. A jolt of electricity pulses through him, shocking him into meeting your intense gaze. 

Muzan Kibutsuji had spent a millennium disregarding the way women made him feel. Never had one interested him enough to break focus on his goals. Sex was something to break the silence of failure, not anything to spend his time on. But you… you were a carefully crafted complexity of sexual frustration. 

He runs his tongue along the inside of his mouth, suddenly parched for a taste of anything. The ringing of your laughter snaps him out of his daze momentarily. “Yes well, I’m known to be pushy when I want something.” 

Me too, Muzan thought. You open your mouth as if you’re about to start, but then you pause, screwing your lips shut. “Before we start, do you mind if we get something to drink? I’m dry as a mouse over here.” You mess with your fingers nervously wondering if that was the correct thing to ask. 

Muzan lifts a brow. “I was unaware mice got dry.” Nevertheless, he lifts himself off the couch. “But that is acceptable. If you’ll follow me to the kitchen?” He walks around the side of the table, offering you a hand. You gulp, tentatively putting your hand in his. 

He guides you to the kitchen island, pulling out a seat for you. You thank him with a nod of your head, gratefully climbing onto the stool. Setting down the tape recorder on the counter, you glance around the silver and white area. The kitchen is just as dim as the living room, the lack of light only making the slight brush of Muzan’s arm against your back send shivers down your spine. “I’ve always wanted to come into this building,” you blurt before cursing lightly under your breath. “Well, er, I mean to say… thank you. I’m grateful for this experience.” You ramble to cover up the embarrassing fact that you basically just admitted you’re poor. Muzan chuckles lowly, the sound rumbling around your head as he sets two wine glasses on the marble countertop. 

“Château Lafite 1869?” He lifts an expensive-looking bottle in the air. You catch a glimpse of the label, a detailed depiction of some sort of mansion with trees around it. He pours the red liquid into the cups, the noise filling the silence. When he’s done he picks both glasses up by the stem of their neck, setting one down in front of you. The aroma is divine. “My turn for a question.” Muzan leans against the lip of the island, staring into the pool of wine in his glass. He swirls it around, glancing up at you. “Just how thankful are you?” He questions.

You smile, bringing the glass to your lips and letting a bit of the wine fill your mouth. Muzan watches you with swept attention. The flavor is complex but you catch a hint of spiciness hit the back of your throat. You set the wine glass down, trying to think of a response. “You’ve done it all wrong,” Muzan’s brows are furrowed as he stalks toward you. He grabs hold of the glass, dipping his finger into it. Your eyes widen when he drags the pad of his finger along your lips. Subconsciously you part your lips, breathing shakily as you daringly dart your tongue out. 

His eyes light up like an inferno, capturing your chin his nostrils flare. “So thankful I’d do anything.” You sputter out against the hard grasp he has on your chin. He rolls his lips under his teeth, huffing out a laugh. 

His free hand grabs your ass, spinning you around on the stool so you’re straddling him. “Is that so darlin’?” He flings your head to the side, the motion making you fall against the back of the counter. “You figure you don’t have what it takes to succeed so you’ll suck my cock, is that it?” He mummers, dragging the back of his hand down your exposed neck. 

Your body heats as you narrow your eyes. “No, that not-” You shut your mouth when his gaze locks onto yours. 

His hands find their way to your thighs, pressing them apart and savoring how your skirt rids up the plush skin. “Oh come on, you even wore a skirt. You knew what you were doing. Off the record? Please, that’s so they won’t hear you screaming my name back at the office,” He squeezes the skin of your thigh, causing you to hiss out in pain. “But I can fix that.” He smirks, running his fingers over the bruised skin. 

You pant heavily as you watch him devour you with his gaze. “We,” You gasp as he somehow rips your shirt to shreds. You regard the fabric of the once nice shirt that covered your torso now falling to the floor – parts of it still clinging to your body. 

The man in front of you runs a hand through his hair, grinning at the sight before him. “That’s more like it,” He hums, plucking the clasp on your back apart, letting your bra slide down your shoulders. “By all means, if you were about to mention the interview, continue asking me questions.” He pushes further between your thighs, flicking your nipple. You groan, the sensitive bud growing stiff. Muzan scoffs. “Though I doubt you’ll be able to.” 

He gathers liquid on two of his fingers, shoving them into your mouth. You squeak at the rough plunge, but your tongue sucks around the earthy tones of the wine. “Hmm, I think I’d rather like the look of you on my counter. Up you go.” You’re being lifted suddenly onto the island. Your skirt is around your hips, the cold of the counter on your ass making you squirm around. “Spread your legs.” He instructs, inspecting how you shyly part your legs, revealing your naked pussy. He scoffs again, tilting his head with a smug expression. 

You turn your cheek against the counter, flushing with embarrassment. “Don’t laugh,” You whine, pouting as the heat of his hand traverses up your leg. 

Muzan’s fingers graze the area of your inner thigh with lecherous intent. “Don’t be embarrassed, I don’t blame you for wanting to fuck me.” Your eyes flutter shut as he draws circles around your mound, playing with your emotions like they were an appetizer. “Besides, I’m going to fuck you real good,” His fingers slide into your pussy, exploring the new area. You groan, squeezing your eyes shut at the sensation. “Hmph, already so wet. You sure did come hot and slick.” He muses, using his thumb to press into your swollen clit. 

A hand clamps over your mouth as you writhe against his ministrations. “Fuck, sir-” Muzan shoves his fingers deeper, aggressively reaching for your throat. His massive hand wraps around the span of your throat, squeezing your windpipes. 

“Call me that again,” He commands, the fire in his eyes now dark and blown out. You huff out tiny breaths, nodding your head. He removes his hand slowly dragging it down your navel, before gripping the side of your thigh. His fingers curl deeper inside of you and your eyes widen. 

A panted moan falls from your lips as he continues. “Just like that, yes, please sir,” He smirks, pushing down on your clit. A yelp echoes around the kitchen at the sudden pressure. 

Muzan lavishes in the way your throat has a red ring around it, marks from him spotting your body in a gorgeous display of possession. “Such a good girl for me,” He growls, slipping his fingers into his mouth to taste your arousal. You watch him with the swell of desire wrapping its claws into your core. “What a wonderful pairing with the Rothschild.” He mutters, grabbing one of the glasses and swigging the liquid into his mouth. 

A devious grin paints his face as he lowers the glass, meeting your gaze. He tips the glass against your stomach, letting the dark red wine trickle tributaries down your greedy cunt. “Don’t worry, I’ll clean you up.” Muzan’s mouth is hungrily lapping at your folds, delighted noises streaming from him as he savors the taste. “Intoxicating,” He huffs, swirling his tongue around your clit before sucking hard on the sensitive area. 

Your throat is sore from the way whimpering moans string together shakily. Your stomach is pulsing with a sensation unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. If he didn’t stop, you felt like you might explode. “M-Muzan,” You begin, huffing out his name. He hums against your folds but doesn’t stop. “Ah, ah,” You start to shake against him, the ravenette pumping his fingers inside of you while licking your clit savagely. “F-ck, m’gonna, hngh haaa ahhh,” 

Muzan’s mouth curls deliciously as your back arches off the counter. Then, with a few bucks of your hips, wetness sprays from your pussy. You shiver as the squirting continues, your body twitching with untouched pleasure. Breathing seems impossible as Muzan licks his lips. “What a wonderful show, but unfortunately we’re still not done.” He pulls you down the counter, lining the apex of your thighs against the bulge in his pants. 

Your eyes widen, he can’t be serious. You were barely conscious after whatever just happened. Did he expect you to go all night? What was this man made of? He frees his cock, the tip slapping against your sensitive cunt. You squeeze your eyes shut. How is it that big? It didn’t feel that big when it was pressed against your thigh. Holy shit. Was he going to put that thing in you? “You’re gonna take all of it,” he begins, pushing the head against your slick. You blink open your eyes, pushing yourself up on your elbows to observe his length disappear inside. A strained hiss slips past your lips, Muzan rolling his hips into yours. “Fuck, your pussy should do all our interviews from now on, damn,” He groans, digging the nails of his fingers into your flesh. “You’re gobbling me up,” He meets your gaze, a growing rhythm snapping his cock into you. You throw your head back, moaning his name like it was a prayer. He felt like he’d been doing this a lot longer than any person you’d ever been with. 

Muzan pushes his thick length further, humming in satisfaction as your walls flutter around him. You couldn’t think, all rational thought was flung out of his huge windows the moment he pulled out that bottle of wine. “Ngh, f’so good, mmmngah,” 

He finds it delightful the way your pussy grabs his cock like it wants more. You had a magnificently fucked out face, your eyes rolled back in your head as your mouth hung open. With each compression of your chest, a hoarse whine pushes back out. Frankly, it was music to his ears. So he grabs the recorder you’d set down earlier, pressing the little red button. He grins as the timer starts ticking again. “Such a good slut for me,” He muses, slapping his balls against your ass as he pounds your pretty pussy. “Your cunt is lovin’ this,” He thrusts deeper and deeper until all you can manage is mewling little noises. 

As you grow closer to your second climax, you rest your back on the counter, enjoying the way the cool stone feels against your sweaty back. “Come on darlin’, is that all you got? This why you wanted me off the record? To fuck you silent?” He chuckles, glancing at the recorder next to your trembling thighs. “What a sneaky vixen, is this how you treat all your clients mmm? Offering your pretty pussy with fluttering doe eyes?” He groans, nearing his own wash of pleasure. “Well, on the record, you belong to me now. Got it? You’re my whore whenever I want.” 

His thrusts grow rapid, burrowing his cock inside of you like his life depended on it. With this life of failure, he’d finally found something worth trying to succeed for. Muzan could feel the old vigor seeping into his veins. He pulls out, pumping his cock until a strangled moan escapes his lips, cum landing on your breasts. He’s a panting mess as he takes in what he’s done to you. A puddle of Rothschild and your arousal soaks the wood of the floor. He picks up the tape recorder, bringing it to his lips. “You hear that, Hashira scum? I made your bitch scream my name.” 

[zepskies]

Lost on You - Part 4

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: Ben claims his prize…

Word Count: 5.4K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only for suggestiveness. Cheating (technically), more cat and mouse seduction, cracks in the masks, and a cat fight.

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Part 4: Better Shape Up

Who knew this man could be such a damn tease. You wouldn’t have thought him capable, for someone who wasn’t used to waiting for anything he wanted.

He demonstrated his resolve on a morning where you thought it safe to venture down to the gym. The others typically didn’t surface until around noon at least, so the morning was your time to work out and train in peace.

Today, Ben was already here. He was dressed down in a loose gray shirt and a pair of sweatpants and combat boots. He had already worked up a sweat and was now doing some impressive leg curls.

You tried not to linger your gaze on the exposed muscles of his arms and the outline of his broad back, but you slipped by him to claim a treadmill after offering him a polite good morning.

“It’s the first time I’ve seen you in here,” he remarked.

You shot him a glance. “I like the quiet in the morning.”

“Matter of fact, you don’t go out of your way to hang out with anyone else on the team,” he said, as if you hadn’t answered.

He was right, but the fact that he’d noticed that about you was interesting. It proved he had his eyes on you, in more ways than one.

“Smart,” he added. “The others are dipshits.”

You smiled in amusement. You were inclined to agree.

Well, most of them, anyway. Crimson Countess was smarter than he gave her credit for, and you were sure Mindstorm was as well, even if he was a hermit.

Once you finished your cardio, you caught your breath with a few sips from the water fountain and found a small towel to wipe at your face and arms. Afterwards, you moved to the mats to stretch out. Yoga was one of the exercises that not only cooled you down and kept you limber after a workout, but it also helped you focus your internal world.

Sometimes it wasn’t easy being able to sense so many male presences around you, along with their baser emotions. It had taken several years of honing your mind and your powers to be able to spread your awareness only when you wanted to. But some energies were just too difficult to ignore.

You raised your hands high above your head, then bent at the waist to lower them all the way to the ground. From there, you walked your hands out across the mat into a downward dog pose.

As you moved through your yoga routine, you could feel a hot stare on your ass. You almost smiled to yourself.

By now, your companion had shifted to a different machine, working on his arms. After a few minutes, you heard the heavy clink of metal on metal. You looked over and saw that he’d finished, dropping the truly massive dumbbells on either side of his legs. He sat at the machine for a moment, catching his breath. His skin was glistening with a fine layer of sweat.

He pointed over to a water bottle that lied on the floor, a few feet away.

“Mind grabbing that for me, sweetheart?” he asked.

That request was harmless enough. You went over and grabbed it for him, your warm hands brushing his on the tradeoff. You meant to turn and head for the showers, but your foot got caught on one of the dumbbells. You gasped and nearly went down when you tripped.

Ben stood and hooked an arm around your waist, pulling you into his solid form. You grabbed onto his arms on reflex. You felt sweat under your palms and between your fingers, smelled his musky, masculine scent. Your breasts were brushing his chest with every breath.

And all the while, he looked down at you like he was thinking about devouring you. You felt his desire.

Instead, he smiled and let you go.

“You okay?” he asked.

Your brain short-circuited for a minute.

“Um, y-yeah. Thanks,” you said. Your hands slipped away from his arms, and you slowly turned and walked away. You almost stopped at the showers like you intended, but at the last second, you thought better of it and kept going all the way back up to your room.

Ben watched you go with a smirk, admiring your ass in those yoga pants.

You knew your plan was working, even with all his antics. You could ultimately use his interest in you to your advantage: for your career.

The plan had started forming the second you met him in that breakroom, and was only reinforced by Countess's superiority and general bitchiness toward you...

But you also thought that man was affecting you far more than you’d like to admit.

So you tried your best to give yourself a break from him. You trained on your own, and only engaged in minor small talk with your fellow teammates whenever you crossed paths with them; even Black Noir, the only person you’d been able to share some genuine conversation with.

You’d sensed the friction between him and Ben, and as unfair and often cruel as you thought it was, you didn’t want to give the latter a reason to resent you. It would only muddle your plans. For that matter, you tried to stay out of Countess’s way as well.

Throughout it all, you began to realize that you were even more alone than you thought you would be in this Tower.

However, your excitement bubbled up again when Arthur called you up to his office. He seemed excited too, which already had you gripped with anticipation. You were hungry to prove yourself, and also to jump on a project. Any project that they might give you to advance your career and increase your exposure to the public.

“I happened to show Soldier Boy that clip you sent in with your audition. The video of your off-the-cuff duet with Whitney Houston at that live show? Now, it was a little fuzzy. Looked like it was filmed with a kid’s Kodak, but whatever. It was brilliant.”

You smiled genuinely. “Thank you.”

Arthur nodded. “Well, Soldier Boy agrees that you’re impressive. And he’s been chomping at the bit for something new. So, I talked to Madelyn and the rest of the team, and we think you two should do a duet together. A cover.”

You blinked a bit wider. “O-Oh, really? Of what?”

“You remember ‘You’re the One That I Want,’ by John Travolta and Olivia Newton-John?”

“From Grease?” you asked with furrowed brows. That movie was like, five years old already. But you did see the previews for a new movie John and Olivia just did together, Two of a Kind. It was set to come out later this year.

“Exactly,” Arthur said, pointing at you. “It could be bigger than the movie!”

You doubted that, but it was still a great opportunity for you. Exactly the kind you’d been waiting for.

There was just one problem.

“And…what about Crimson Countess? You think she’ll be okay with this?” you asked. “She hasn’t exactly warmed up to me.”

Arthur sighed, but he waved a dismissive brow.

“Let us handle that part. At the end of the day, she understands this is all business here. No one’s gettin’ married.”

You laughed politely while hiding a sliver of unease. You agreed to the idea, but if Ben had a hand in this at all, you had a feeling you knew what he was up to.

You showed up early to the studio on a Tuesday morning. Ben, of course, was an hour late. You two had already pre-recorded your vocal parts separately, so today started the filming for your version of the music video.

You were already getting ruby red lipstick painted on your lips, when Ben stumbled into the hair and makeup trailer.

“Morning, sweetheart,” he rumbled in your direction.

“Good morning,” you replied cordially, though you watched him out of the corner of your eye.

He was nursing a tremendous hangover, by the looks of it. If it wouldn’t ruin your stylist’s concentration, you would shake your head in exasperation. Could he take nothing seriously?

Angela, his stylist, began by cleaning his face with an exfoliator wipe. She spread some primer on first before she went for the foundation. He stopped her with a raise of his hand and a halting sound in his throat.

“Make me a little more tan today, eh, doll face. You washed me out last time,” he said, slapping her on the ass. Angela jolted, but she gave him a practiced smile.

“No problem, Soldier Boy.” She swapped the foundation in her hand for a warmer shade. 

You barely managed to stop yourself from frowning. Asshole.

Another half hour later, you were ushered out of the makeup trailer and into the dressing room. By the time you stepped out, you were transformed fully into Sandy Olsson, Olivia Newton-John’s character in Grease, complete with the skin-tight black jumpsuit.

You were reenacting one of the final songs of the movie—the moment where Sandy drops her prim and proper upbringing to show Danny that she could live in his “edgier” world, if he was willing to step up, or shape up, for her as a man.

Vought had the money to create a truly impressive set. You stepped out towards the stage and looked around at all the people, not to mention the expensive-looking equipment on this production. You had been on big stages before, but not as the leading lady. This was big, and you could admit, it was intimidating.

Ben soon joined you, looking very much the part with a real cigarette in hand as he blew out smoke. He was made to look like John Travolta’s character, of course. His brown hair was neatly coiffed and gelled back. He was wearing a tight black shirt tucked into a pair of black slacks, with five o’clock shadow dusting his cheeks. You were a little surprised he was agreeing to something like this…but you also had a hunch on what was motivating him.  

A grin soon spread across his face. You averted your eyes, surprising yourself by the way your face warmed. However briefly it was, he’d caught you checking him out.

He returned the favor. His gaze lingered on your every curve, and finally your face.

“Lookin’ good, baby doll,” he said mildly, but he leaned over to whisper in your ear. “I’m gonna be thinking about those red lips tonight.”

Your lips pursed as you watched him walk away with his usual smooth, arrogant stride. You refused to feel how hot your face was. Instead, you relaxed your shoulders and raised your chin before you stepped onto the stage with him.

The director came over to talk you both through the script and his vision for the music video, a scene by scene replica of the fairgrounds. (And he handed Ben an ashtray for his cigarette.)

The opening scene was already set up. The pack of actors playing Danny Zuko’s friends were hanging off to the side, while a handful of young women in 1950s style dresses hung out on the other side, waiting for you.

The director called to roll sound. A production assistant handed you a fake cigarette to hold between your fingers, just like the original movie scene. Other instructions were shouted out as you stared into the cameras blankly. Your body felt stiff, your mouth heavy.

You were nervous, no matter how much you didn’t want to acknowledge it.

“Hey,” came a deep voice in your ear.

You turned to Ben and tried to hide your anxiety. He smiled and once again leaned in close. You felt the warm pressure of his hand on your lower back.

“You’ve seen cameras before. Don’t even look at ‘em. They’re not there,” he said, encouraging you to use your imagination.

You took a subtle breath. “And the thirty-something crew of people?”

“They’re the audience,” he said. “This is just a stage, like the ones you’ve been on before. Even smaller.”

You nodded subtly and tried to calm the ball of nerves rising into your throat. You made your way over to your mark and got ready with a hand on your hip, and the prop cigarette poised in the other. Ben went to his mark, with the other Greasers.

Ben smirked at you. “Remember to sing pretty.”

You shot him a teasing smile back.

“Oh, don’t worry. When I sing, people listen.”

I got chills, they’re multiplying. And I’m losing control.

‘Cause the power you’re supplying…

It’s electrifying.

He might not have had Travolta’s range, but Ben was a decent singer himself. It was rich and baritone, occasionally with some edge. They’d lowered the song down a key for him, you noticed, but you didn’t mind.

It was all you could do to remember the choreography, all while feeling the push and pull of the music, the lyrics, and the man himself. He was also making some subtle changes to the character in his performance.

“I’m not dragging myself across the fucking ground after her like some love-sick pussy,” as he’d snapped at the director.

So he was applying a more suave approach to Danny’s role, trying to persuade you with a Cary Grant-like charm. Partnered with your sensuous persona, it gave the bouncy song some new depth.

You better shape up, ‘cause I need a man.

And my heart is set on you…

It took a few hours to get through the first scenes, and you found that you and Ben worked well together. But his attention on you was intense whenever he looked into your eyes. His every small touch ignited across your skin, eliciting tingles of electricity down your spine.

When you finally got to your first verse after the chorus, you were up on one of the carnival ride platforms. Painted on one of the walls was Danger Ahead.

If you’re filled with affection, you’re too shy to convey…

Per the choreography, Ben followed you up a short flight of stairs and cornered you against a wall. You pivoted on your heels and felt bold enough to improvise. You drew him in with a hand on his stubbled cheek, and you allowed your eyes to shine with a bit of your power, giving them a violet glow.

Meditate on my direction. Feel your way…

As you sang, his hands glided up the swell of your hips and gripped you tight at the waist. His gaze lowered to your lips. You could smell his musky cologne mixed with cigarette smoke as he began to lean in. Your mouth parted unconsciously.

“Cut!” the director shouted.

The music stopped and a sharp bell rang out. You paused, letting your hand fall away from Ben’s cheek. He reluctantly released you as well. You eased away from him with a smile.

“All right! That was great guys,” the director chimed in cheerfully after he came out from behind the network of cameras. “Tell you what, let’s break for lunch.”

You sensed the burning presence following you off the stage, just a few feet behind. It shadowed you all the way to your trailer.

The moment you opened the door and stepped inside, you weren’t all that surprised when Ben grabbed your hand and turned you around into his arms. You stifled a small gasp.

“What’re you doing?” you asked, despite knowing full fucking well.

He was no longer teasing as his eyes swept down to your cherry red lips.

“I’m claiming my prize,” he said, his voice sinful and deep.

He bent down to capture you in a demanding kiss. You breathed in, and allowed yourself to give into it. Your hands slid up his arms, then wound up into his hair. He devoured you deeper with each new glide of his lips against yours, his hold on your waist moving down your hips and gripping your ass.

He mostly carried you as he guided you back against the wall of the trailer. His hand slapped against it to brace your impact, making the wall tremble. You gasped into his mouth at the suddenness of it, and he took the opportunity to taste you deeper, slipping his tongue against yours. He relished every small sound you made, and every part of you he got his hands on.

Until he broke from you suddenly, allowing you to catch your breath. You couldn’t help but blink up at him in a bit of surprise while you recovered. His smile was smug looking down at you.

“That was more than a kiss,” you said. Thank God you sounded steadier than you felt.

Ben chuckled and leaned in closer again, this time letting his lips drift across your cheek, and down your neck.

“And I promise I’m good with my hands,” he said in your ear.

You fought not to shudder at the depths in his voice. Your internal alarm finally sounded, however, when one of his hands left your hip to slip along the inside of your thigh. He stroked a thumb between your legs, over the silky leather of your pants. Your core pulsed with anticipation, but this wasn’t part of the plan. Not yet.

You tensed up and grabbed his wrist.

“Ben,” you warned in a gasp, issuing a trill of power on reflex.

Stop.

The unspoken command laced through him. He paused with a tense look, but not just because of your powers. He saw the sliver of fear in your eyes. He frowned.

For your part, you honestly didn’t mean to compel him this time. Your eyes widened, your mouth pressed into a line.

Part of you was afraid, but not for the reasons he might’ve thought. It was a delicate game you were playing with this man. And like it or not, even though you had the power to stop him if he tried to take it any farther, his influence still had power over your career.

“The fuck is your problem? You’re running hot and cold on me,” he snarked. But he relaxed, taking a step away from you. You released his wrist.

“I meant what I said,” you said. “Look, you’re helping me out a lot by doing this music video, and I appreciate that. More than you know.”

Your tone was gentle as you attempted to soothe his ego, but your words had the added benefit of being true.

“I’m still the new kid here,” you added. “Countess already thinks I’m trying to take her place.”

Which, at this point, you could admit that you were in a way. You had a feeling that she’d been using Ben the same way you were—to enhance her status and cement her position in Payback. 

He rolled his eyes. “She doesn’t have to know.”

You broke into a small smile, crossing your arms at him.

“Come on, Ben.”

His face became taciturn. You tried to gouge his reaction with your abilities, and you sensed his irritation underneath. He was likely trying to curb every inclination he had to give a nasty retort and hold onto the charm, but he was also starting to lose patience.

“So what the fuck do you want from me?” he snapped.

You held your tongue for a moment. You knew that whatever you said, whatever you did next could either make or break your plans to be successful. Still, no matter how much you actually wanted to give in to the desire in his eyes, you didn’t just want to be the equivalent of his mistress, or one of his forgettable conquests. That would make sure you remained on the sidelines forever.

No. The only way this worked was if he broke up with Countess for real. 

You stepped in close to him again. With slow moments, you rested your hands on his chest and leaned up, as if to give him a sensuous kiss. You stop just shy of his lips. He grasped your hips on instinct.

“If you really want me, you can have me,” you purred. Though you pulled away when he bent down to kiss you. You lowered back down to your heels.

“Just me,” you said. “I like you, Ben, but if you really do love Crimson Countess and want to…work it out with her, I understand.”

You crossed your arms. His jaw ticked in annoyance.

“They’re gonna have to fix your face,” he remarked with a gesturing finger. “Looks like you sucked off Ronald McDonald.”

Your mouth fell open in shock. You turned to look at yourself in the large mirror on the far wall, and sure enough, your pretty red lipstick was smeared all around your mouth. When you turned back to find Ben’s more amused grin, you glared at him, feeling a hot blush coming on. Pink smudges stained his lips and chin as well.

“Yeah, well, you too, Casanova,” you say pointedly. “You look like a…a fucking clown!”

It was lame, you could admit.

He just laughed and strolled out of your trailer. You huffed and crossed your arms.

He was goddamn insufferable.

Challenges of sexual tension aside, the music video turned out to be a great success. It wasn’t a perfect frame by frame rendition of the movie, but you recreated many of the scenes at the carnival, especially the one at the end. Ben actually hit the High Striker bell so hard that it flew through the roof of the studio.

Maybe getting out some pent-up frustration there.

The video would later get splashed across MTV and all the Vought channels. It piggybacked on the publicity from your first couple of saves with Payback that finally made it to the news.

It all did wonders for your popularity, especially because the reviews on the video were mostly positive—not only for the production and the quality of the vocals, but also for the chemistry between “Soldier Boy and Sirena.”

It just had the predictable side effect of making Countess even bitchier toward you, if that were possible. To a point, you couldn’t fault her. You and Ben did have chemistry on-screen, and she was smart enough to guess at your chemistry off-screen as well. She probably already thought you two were fucking.

You knew the truth, but you also knew it was useless to try and change her mind—hers, and everyone else who gave you sidelong looks when they thought you didn’t notice. Maybe you should’ve just done it with him anyway, if people were going to think it was true no matter what you did.

The only one who congratulated you on your success with any sincerity was your brother.

“I’m proud of you, sis. You’re really doing great,” Chris said.

You shed a couple of tears on the phone with him before hastily changing the subject, asking about your nephew. He’d made a new friend at preschool.

“Aww. Lisa, huh?” you teased. “Is she gonna be his new little girlfriend?”

“Well, she shared her box of crayons and he gave her half of his oatmeal cream pie at lunch, so they’re off to a great start,” Chris joked. You were happy to hear it, and you promised to send him another gift signed by Soldier Boy soon.

After you hung up with your brother, the next call you made was to your dad. Except, you never even got the chance to mention the video.

“How’s Mom doing?” you asked.

“Well, I was actually going to call you,” your dad said. “She’s uh, she’s not doing well… It’s time, honey.”

Your breath stilled in your lungs. You almost didn’t hear his next words: that your mother had been transferred to hospice this morning. That she had a matter of days, and you should come home as soon as you could. You promised that you would.

And suddenly, you remembered every promise you’d given your parents over the past couple of months to go see them, have dinner with them. You remembered that you’d never made good on any of those promises.

Your ears were ringing after you hung up with him. You wiped your tears away.

In your dissociative state, you went to your desk and looked at your calendar to see what was next on the painstaking daily schedule you crafted for yourself. Instead of packing a bag or calling Arthur to try and negotiate some time off, you donned some activewear and went down to the breakroom.

You shoveled some oatmeal into your mouth that you didn’t even taste. Then you went to start your morning routine at the gym.

To your unpleasant surprise, Crimson Countess was there. She was running on the treadmill you usually took. You barely glanced her way as you passed by, aiming for an elliptical instead.

She smiled and tsked. “Oh, honey. That’s one rough looking hangover.”

You turned to her and tried to hide your annoyance. Your eyes were likely red rimmed from crying, not from a bender.

“You should drink more water,” she said, gesturing with a finger around her face. “Might help with the bags under your eyes.”

You sucked in your cheeks and pursed your lips. An irrational anger, dark and deep, roiled in your gut.

“Maybe you can give me the number of your surgeon too,” you shot back. “That’s how you got those plastic tits, right?”

Countess visibly paused, like she hadn’t expected you to hit back. You normally just took whatever snide remarks she made with a smile, as if it were a joke (or at worse, a look of nonchalance). Today was not that day.

She turned off her machine and slowed to a stop.

“No, but I do know someone who can suck the cellulite out of your ass,” she said snidely. She grabbed a water bottle up from the floor and took a sip. You hopped off your own machine and smacked the bottle out of her hand. It made water spill down the front of her red sports bra.

“Tell me, Donna. As the most senior female superhero in Payback, how does it feel to be every man’s guilty pleasure jerk off material?” you sniped.

That managed to strike a nerve. She sneered at you.

“That’s right, honey. Everyone in the world knows who I am,” she said with a haughty look. Her eyes were cold and cruel. “The only way someone’s gonna remember you is exactly how you got here. On your fucking knees.”

She shoved at your shoulders, pushing you back a couple of steps. Your temper finally snapped.

“Oh really? The only reason people know you is because you’re fucking the ‘boss,’” you said, air quotes included. Then you laughed. “The Sonny and Cher routine? Please. Soldier Boy doesn’t love you. He doesn’t even fucking respect you. And you let him walk all over you. Because it keeps you exactly where you want to be. On your knees, sucking off the oldest dick in the world.”

You could see how your words were cutting into her, making her seethe. Her hand came up swiftly with a slap across your face. She was strong. The force behind the hit made you stumble again, but this time, you weren’t holding back. You threw a punch that caught her on the side of her nose. (And for the record, that one actually was fake.)

It soon devolved into a petty, dirty, angry fight, complete with hair pulling, punching, and a kick to the stomach that sent Countess onto her back on the hardwood floor.

The gym doors opened to Ben and Gunpowder rushing in. They must’ve heard the commotion, because they were already on alert. Ben’s face was set with a frown while he watched you squared up on the mats. Your opponent was slowly getting to her feet, huffing and puffing with rage.

Your eyes widened when Countess raised her hands, and a red glow of energy materialized. She tossed a red hot fireball in your direction. You dove across the mat to avoid it, but it vaporized half the gym equipment on your side of the room. You twisted your ankle badly on the way down as well.

While Ben intervened and stopped Countess from hurling another fireball, Gunpowder went to you.

“You okay?” he asked. He reached out a hand to you, but stopped short, like he was afraid of your touch. You were dismayed, but you grimaced and tried to help yourself up. You’d fallen onto another exercise machine and one side of your ribs felt battered.

Meanwhile, Ben whirled Countess around by her arm and glared down at her.

“What the fuck is your problem?!” he raised his voice.

She was still livid as she tried to yank her arm out of his grasp. She pointed at you where you lied on the floor.

“Are you fucking her?!” she yelled.

He blinked in surprise, but he quickly recovered.

“What’s the matter with you? Of course not!” he bellowed. “Jesus fuck. Forget to take your damn crazy pills today?”

At that, she looked stricken. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she pinched the bridge of her nose.

“They’re not…I suffer from migraines,” she said.

“Yeah, well, do us all a favor and take a handful,” Ben groused. “Better yet, the whole goddamn bottle.”

You somehow managed to pull yourself to your feet. Gunpowder was useless, since he was wary of touching you. Really? Does he think I’m going to hijack his mind right here and now?

It hurt, but you hopped from machine to ruined machine in attempt to get out of the room. Ben started toward you. You held a hand up to stop him.

“I’m okay,” you said shakily. “I don’t need help.”

At this point, you were done being reckless. You didn’t want to give Countess any more ammunition against you. 

You managed to limp your way out of the gym and down the hall to the sound of Ben’s shouting, versus Countess’s enraged crying.

“I know you’re fucking her. You want to know why? Because you fuck anything with a pulse!”

“Christ on a cross, I can’t talk to a hysterical woman.”

You shook your head, despite the tears burning in your eyes. You felt your way down the wall like a one-legged crab.

Until a strong pair of arms scooped you up under your legs and around your back. 

You gasped and met a masked Black Noir.

Without a word, he carried you up to your room. There he set you on your feet, in front of your door. You braced yourself with a hand on the doorknob, but you carefully twisted around to look back at him.

“Thank you,” you said with a sniff.

He paused. You sensed his uncertainty.

“Feel better,” he said.

Then he left you alone in the hall.

You took the longest hot bath of your life, dumping in half a bottle of lavender bath soaks. It helped your aches and pains, but it still didn’t manage to wash the day away.

I need to go home, you were reminded. You needed to see your mom, before…

You covered your face with your hands, and you finally allowed yourself to cry.

Back in the gym, Ben cut off Donna's enraged rant with a sharp grip on her arm. He shook her once, hard enough to make her teeth click. It startled a gasp out of her.

She looked up at him and couldn’t entirely hide her fear.

“Get a goddamn grip,” he growled. “Never fucking disrespect me like that again. And if you make another mess like this, so help me God, you’re gonna leave me no choice but to make you regret it. Do you understand me?”

It took her a moment, but after he tightened his grip on her arms, she winced and nodded contritely.

“Yes, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Ben,” she stammered. “It won’t happen again, I promise.”

He rolled his eyes, but he released her. “Good. Go clean yourself up. You’re a fucking mess.”

He left her in the gym where she stood, still holding herself.

Ben frowned when he didn’t find you in the hallway. At the pace you were going, you couldn’t have gotten that far, he reasoned. But he still didn’t find you, even when he traveled to the elevators and up to your apartment. He stopped in front of your door.

He raised his fist up, poised to knock, but his superior hearing perked up to a sound.

He realized he could hear you crying. The kind of muffled sobs where you were trying to hold yourself back, and were failing miserably.

Ben hesitated…but ultimately, he couldn’t handle two emotional women in one day.

He walked away from your door.

AN: *Sighs* Ben isn't shaping up, is he? Don't worry though. We've still got plenty of track left to go on this rollercoaster.

Next Time:

An album was playing on his record player. You recognized Sinatra’s smooth voice singing “My Way.”

“You want a drink?” Ben asked.

“Whiskey, neat,” you replied. He rose a brow, but he fulfilled your request. While he was busy, you grabbed his forgotten half a blunt from the ashtray on the coffee table, and you lit up. You didn’t often partake in drugs because you didn’t like being out of your lucid mind. You preferred being in control.

Today was different. You needed a distraction. Maybe that was why you were here to begin with.

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 5

Ko-Fi Me ☕

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[willalove75]

Alcina fic idea/request, it’s totally cool if you don’t wanna do this one, I’ve never requested a fic before

Y/N is her shy personal maiden scared of overstepping, Alcina likes making her react/embarrassed. Alcina’s in a bath with Y/N there to fetch anything she’d need and Alcina pulls her in?

I love this idea!!!! I'm honored that I'm the first person you've requested a fic from!🥺💕 I hope you enjoy it!!

Warnings: Smut, a dash of praise kink, a splash of mommy kink, uh, I think that's it lolll

18+ Only Minors DNI

As the day winded down in Castle Dimitrescu you stood by the Countess during dinner with a wine bottle in you hands, ready to refill her glass whenever it was empty. You're been her handmaiden for a few months now so you're used to the Lady's routine and are privy of the things she prefer. Such as her favorite flavor tea, which soaps and oils she likes to use in the bath when she's stressed, which dresses are her favorite, etc..

Lady Dimitrescu has only had good things to say about your performance, something you're grateful for, but she's still the matriarch of the Castle, one slipup and you're in the dungeon. The dungeon terrified you more than anything else, more than the girls' sadistic antics and more than the Lady's massive claws. Even though you've never been down there before, you've heard screams echo through the castle when the door is open when the girls come in and out. Many of the maids who are sent there return with horrific wounds, if they return at all.

Even though you were grateful that Lady Dimitrescu picked you to be her personal maid, you couldn't help but feel like you were always walking on eggshells. You were always quiet, you kept to yourself and did your work and did it damn well. Now that you're the Lady's handmaid, you feel like you've shrunken into your shell even more.

For the first few weeks in your new position, weren't sure why you shrunk back so much. Yes, she could be terrifying, but there was something else, something you couldn't quite put your finger on. Until the first time you saw her undress, that was. She stood before you in all of her glory, her black lingerie contrasting perfectly against her porcelain skin. You drank in every inch of her, her massive breasts, her waist, her toned belly that still had a softness to it, her wide hips, her perfect ass, her legs that seemed to go on for miles. It was almost impossible to tear your eyes away from her, you were only able to do so when she pulled you out of your trance.

"Do you like what you see, pet?"

That's when it hit you like a ton of bricks. Sure, you were a little afraid of her, but more than that, you had the biggest crush on her. It's only gotten worse since that day. You're not sure if she's picked up on it by now, you've tried to be discreet, but ever since then she's tried to fluster you every chance she gets. It's like a game to her, she's the cat and you're the mouse.

The Countess holds out her wine glass in your direction and you walk up to her outstretched arm. She's currently involved in a conversation with her daughters and isn't paying any attention to you, which normally you'd be more than okay with. But since she's not paying attention, she doesn't realize that she's holding her empty glass over your head. Afraid of overstepping, the last thing you want to do is interrupt her conversation with her daughters to ask her to lower her hand so you look around to see if there's a stool or something you can climb on to to reach.

Bela sees you out of the corner of her eye and does a double take, watching you with amusement as you stare at the glass hovering over your head. She begins to snicker and you look over and make eye contact with her and quickly look down with a small squeak.

Lady Dimitrescu notices Bela giggling and follows her line of sight, leading directly to you. She notices that she's holding the glass too high she chuckles and you look up at her, a blush starting to dust your cheeks.

"My little pet, you could have asked me to lower my glass." She says with a faint laugh as she lowers her arm so you can pour the wine.

"I'm sorry my Lady, I didn't want to interrupt." You say, looking down at the floor after filling her cup.

She puts her glass on the table and puts her knuckle under your chin, lifting your face to look at her.

"Such a sweet, timid little mouse." She says, looking into your eyes.

You can see a hint of amusement in them, as well as something else. Adoration? No, the Countess could never look at you in such a way. You can't quite put your finger on it, but the look is soft and somehow makes you even more flustered than usual.

Once dinner was done Lady Dimitrescu asked you to accompany her to her chambers and assist her with her evening bath.

She sits down at her vanity and you climb onto the step stool behind her and begin removing the pins from her hair. She has the softest hair you've ever felt, which is a little strange given she isn't human, but you don't think about it too much. Her thick, raven curls fall just above her shoulder as you remove the pins. You coil a few of the pieces around your finger where the curls fell out, returning them to their natural shape as you go.

Lady Dimitrescu pauses taking off her makeup for a moment and stares at you through the mirror, watching you as you examine each curl as it falls, she admires the way your eyes shimmer and the little wrinkle that forms between your eyebrows when you're focused. Looking up for a moment, you catch her gaze in the mirror and you feel your face get warm, you immediately look back down and silently finish taking out the last of the hairpins.

She smirks at your reaction and after you take out the last pin and fix the final curl behind her ear, Lady Dimitrescu gently grabs your hand and holds it in hers. You freeze for a moment, staring at her hand wrapped around yours, the coolness of her skin is soothing, especially against your rapidly heating skin. Looking up you meet her gaze in the mirror once more and she looks at you with a kind, almost loving smile.

"I've never had a maiden take such care of my curls before. I hope you know your thoroughness and attention to detail doesn't go unnoticed."

"Th-thank you very much, my Lady."

"The face you make when you're focused is quite adorable, if I say so myself little mouse."

You let out a little squeak, a habit you picked up from your mom, and look back down to her hand over yours. The heat rises to your cheeks and you know they must be bright red.

Lady Dimitrescu turns in her seat to face you, when you look up, you're met with a gorgeous pair of golden eyes.

"Do you know why I call you 'little mouse'?"

You shake your head. "No, my Lady."

"Because of that little squeak you make when you're flustered, it's quite charming."

You try and hold back your squeak but fail, miserably. Lady Dimitrescu laughs and turns back around.

"You can go ahead and unbutton my dress now, little mouse." She says after she turns back around, smirking at you in the mirror.

After you unbutton the dress, Lady Dimitrescu pulls her arms out of the sleeves and stands up, the dress pooling at her feet. As you're about to get down from the step ladder to grab it, she sits again at her vanity.

"Be a dear and unclip my bra for me, pet." Her smirk is gone but she has a look in her eyes you've never seen before. You freeze for a moment, she's never asked you to do this before. With shaky hands, you delicately grab each side of the clip and unhook it. Looking up in the mirror, she holds your gaze as she slowly slides the straps off of her shoulders and pulls the bra away. Her breasts drop a bit from the lack of support and she tosses the bra away. It's taking everything in you to hold her stare, you get the feeling she wants you to look, but you could also just think that because that's what you want her to be thinking.

Lady Dimitrescu stands up and you release a small breath of relief as you climb off of the step ladder and head straight into the bathroom. You fill the massive tub up with warm water and add her favorite soaps and a few drops of her favorite oils. As you're finishing up Lady Dimitrescu walks in, stark naked. Never before have you seen her like this, usually she waits until you're out of the bathroom to take off the rest of her clothes. She's as gorgeous and as sexy as you imagined, honestly even more so. You quickly stare at the ground as she walks further into the bathroom.

"Your bath is ready, my Lady."

She gently cups under your chin and slowly, painfully slowly, raises your gaze up towards her. As your eyes move up, the first thing you notice is that your face is just inches away from her heat, you swear your heart stops for a second. She lifts your chin more and you take in the curves on her hips, her belly, looking up further you can see the underside of her breasts and finally, you lock eyes with her. You can feel your face burning up in her hand, you're sure she can feel it too.

Lady Dimitrescu stares at you for a moment and tucks a dark curl behind her ear before crouching down to your height. When she's at eye level with you, the look in her eyes changes, as if she's admiring a piece of artwork.

"Such a sweet little girl." She says softly, her thumb reaching up and slowly pulling your bottom lip down.

Your heart does a backflip and you squeeze your thighs together. She's been teasing you all night, but that intimate gesture is what really made you wet.

Her nostrils flare for a second and the look in her eyes shifts, her pupils dilate and she quirks an eyebrow softly. She leans in, her lips just barely brushing against the shell of your ear.

"So sweet." She whispers before placing a soft kiss on your cheek.

As she drops her hand and stands up you let out a small squeak and she smirks and steps into the tub. It takes everything in you to not melt into a puddle on her bathroom floor.

"I would like you to do my hair for me please, pet." She says as she lowers herself into the water.

"O-of course my Lady."

Walking around to the back of the tub, you climb onto the steps while Lady Dimitrescu leans back and dunks her hair into the water. She relaxes against the tub while you lather the shampoo into your hands and begin massaging it into her scalp. She gently hums as she closes her eyes, enjoying the soothing sensation. You rinse the shampoo out and add conditioner to the ends of her hair, gently combing it through with a brush, starting from the ends and working your way up. After you rise the conditioner out, you dip your hands into the water to wash the excess soap off.

"Is there anything else you need from me my Lady?" You ask as you pull your hands out of the water.

Lady Dimitrescu grabs one of your wrists and holds you there, bent over the edge of the tub. She turns her shoulders towards you and looks into your eyes for a moment.

"Actually pet, I believe there is something you can assist me with."

"Um, what is it, my Lady?"

"I would like for you to join me, little mouse."

You let out a squeak and stare at her wide-eyed. Did you hear her right? She wants you to bathe with her? Lady Dimitrescu senses your shock and chuckles.

"I know your feelings towards me are, deeper, than just being my handmaid, little mouse." You feel your face turn beet red. "I was quite surprised, but pleasantly so. Since you've been doing such a wonderful job, I want to reward you." She leans in and whispers in your ear. "I also find myself very attracted to you, pet. So, what do you say?"

She gently nibbles your earlobe before she pulls away and instead of a squeak, a small moan escapes from your lips. Lady Dimitrescu practically purrs when she hears you moan and leans back in, placing open mouth kisses on your neck. Your eyes roll back and you let out a few more moans.

"Care to join me?" She whispers in your ear.

"Yes." You breathe.

Lady Dimitrescu turns more in the tub and grabs you by your waist and pulls you into the tub and places you in her lap. You squeak as she pulls you in, maids uniform and all and your heart almost beats out of your chest when she has you straddle her, her breasts practically in your face.

She cradles the back of your head and pulls you into her, her lips are just barely brushing against yours. She holds your there for a moment before placing a soft, tender kiss on your lips. Her lips are softer than you ever imagined them to be, you feel like you're floating as she kisses you.

Pulling away just enough to ghost your lips once more, Lady Dimitrescu looks into your eyes.

"Would you like me to continue, pet?" You nod your head. "Use your words sweet mouse." She coos.

"Yes, please." You breathe.

Her pupils dilate so much her eyes nearly turn black, she pulls you into her and kisses you hard. You feel her tongue caress your bottom lip and you open your mouth more, letting her in. As she's exploring the inside of your mouth with her tongue, you feel a bit of a pull on the back of your uniform and then hear a tearing sound. Lady Dimitrescu extended one of her claws just enough to rip through your clothes. When she's done cutting through them, she pulls them off of you and tosses them away. You can hear the splat of the wet cloth hitting the floor somewhere in the bathroom.

She quickly pulls off your bra and claws through your underwear, leaving you just as naked as she is, your body pressed up against hers. Her lips travel down your jaw to your neck where she continues to kiss and suck up and down it. The hand that's tangled in your hair slowly slides down your body, she palms each of your breasts, taking your nipples between her fingers pinching them and rolling them until they're hardened. Sliding further down your body, her fingers dance across your sternum and head towards you belly, she gently drags her nails down your skin until she reaches your core.

There was a part of you that thought she was going to tease you, but to your surprise she immediately cups your heat, the pads of her fingers making contact with your clit right away. You can't help but throw your head back and do your best to swallow a moan as she rubs circles over it. Her other hand grabs the back of your head as she continues making up your neck.

"Good girl, let me hear those pretty noises you make." She says before picking up the pace.

Her lips travel down a bit to your collarbones and chest and she nips and sucks on your skin, riddling you with love bites. Without realizing it, you start to grind down onto her fingers and she smirks.

"Such an eager little pet." She purrs. "Do you want more?"

"Yes," you moan, "please."

Not a second after the words leave your mouth, she slides her middle finger deep into your core. You cry out in pleasure and you grab onto her shoulders. She thrusts her finger in and out of you a few times before curling it inside of you, making you cry out again. After doing that a few times you begin to buck your hips against her.

"More," you beg. "please, I need more."

Lady Dimitrescu tightens her hold on the back of your hair and slides her finger out of you. Just as you're about to whine from the loss she shoves two fingers into you, causing your eyes to roll to the back of your head as you let out a filthy moan. A growl rumbles in her chest when she hears you and thrusts into you harder.

"What a good girl you are, taking my fingers so perfectly, letting me stretch you out so nicely." She says as she sucks on your neck more.

The only thing you can do in response to her praise is moan more and dig your nails a little harder into her. After thrusting in and out of you for a few minutes, her free hand moves down to your hip and she lowers you further onto her lap. Stilling her fingers, she pulls your hips up and back down, picking up the hint, you start to bounce on them. On each reentry she curls them into you hitting all of the right spots that make you see stars.

The harder you slam yourself down onto her fingers, the harder she curls into you and the higher you climb, getting closer and closer to your climax. Slamming down onto them once more, you start grinding your hips into her, bringing yourself closer and closer.

"You're so close my little pet, I can feel you clenching around my fingers." She says. "Do you want mommy to take you over the edge? To make you feel so good?" She coos, which only brings you closer.

"Yes, please!" You cry out. "Fuck me, please fuck me!"

"So vulgar." She teases before sucking on your pulse point for a moment, making you whine.

When she pulls away from your neck, her free hand steadies your hips while you straddle her and she works her fingers in and out of you. Staring off at a bit of a slower pace, she quickly picks it up and in no time she's slamming her fingers in and out of you. Your cries get louder and louder and if you weren't in such a state of bliss right now, you'd be sure that the entire castle can hear you.

The bath water begins to splash over the edge onto the marble floor as she fucks you harder and harder. Your lower abdomen begins to tense up and you feel yourself clenching harder around her fingers.

"Fuck! I'm so close." You cry.

Lady Dimitrescu responds only by going faster and harder. Your climax hits you like a train, ecstasy explodes inside of your body and your eyes roll into the back of your head as you cry out in pleasure. She drags your orgasm out for as long as she possibly can before you practically go limp and fall into her.

She pulls her fingers out of you and holds you close, gently rubbing your back and whispering praises into your ear as the aftershocks rock your body. Each time an aftershock causes you to whimper she places a soft kiss into your hair.

"You did so wonderful little mouse. You looked so beautiful cumming all over my fingers. You did such a good job." She whispers as your heartbeat begins to slow and your breaths even out.

"Thank you, my Lady." You say softly, placing an open mouthed kiss on her neck as your head rests in the crook of it.

Exhaustion begins to take over and you can't seem to fight it. Lady Dimitrescu picks up on it and grabs her soap and washes you and herself. When she's finished, she gets out of the tub with you in her arms and dries the both of you off, carrying you to her bed. Laying you down, she curls up next to you and pulls the covers over the two of you. Her arm wraps around your waist and pulls you closer.

She places a kiss on your forehead and you fight to open your eyes for a moment. Lady Dimitrescu gazes into your tired eyes and you notice that look again, this time you're certain she's looking at you with admiration.

"Go to sleep little mouse." She says, kissing your forehead once more.

Your eyes flutter closed and you think to yourself "I love you."

Lady Dimitrescu watches as you lose the battle to keep your eyes open. Just as you're falling asleep you say "I love you." It was so soft she wouldn't have heard it if she didn't have supersonic hearing. She gently kisses the corner of your mouth and cuddles you into her.

"Goodnight my sweet girl." She whispers before falling fast asleep.

[uch3na]

i’ve just sent out this same exact request to another writer but im going mad about the amount of fics (zero) with kai from voyagers (ARCHEIIE)

𝙨𝙖𝙢𝙚 𝙨𝙥𝙖𝙘𝙚

| pairing - kai x reader

| warnings - sub!kai, kai jerking off while thinking of reader, praise (m recieving), riding, finger sucking, mindbreak (if u squint hard enough), kai really wanting to pleasure the reader

| a/n - im ngl i was so happy i got this request bc ive been wanting to write for him so here u go🤫🤫

you always had your eye on kai. not in an attracted way, but you were always closest to him than anyone else on the ship.

but its just like one day everything — changed. when you stopped drinking your “medication” you just saw him differently. every time you looked at him you just wanted to do these things to him. break him. you didn’t know what came over you. kai always seemed like the type (sexually or not) that could break easily; even with the way he acts around the ship. all tough on the outside but when he’s alone he’s just a puddle of mush.

and to the least of your knowledge, kai felt the same way about you. he would think about the things you could do to him. he would try to sleep but all he could think of was you controlling him. taking what was yours. he would fist his cock at the thought. imagining it was your own hand wrapped around his thick length. he would shut his eyes and just try his absolute hardest to go to bed but he would just end up with his hand down his pants like a helpless little boy. and what made it worse was that you were in the room right next to him. and you heard everything. all his tiny moans and whimpers. this was the only thing that made you happy about the terribly thin walls on the ship.

you would’ve never thought kai thought of you the same way you thought of him until one day you had woken up to get a drink when you heard the faintest cry of your name while the hallways were dead silent. the voice sounds familiar so you instantly forget about the water and tiptoe to kai’s door and put your ear against it. it was almost like a mouse and a trap. and you fell for it. you just stood there — listening to him. the way his moans were broken each time he was about to orgasm. the way he would call out your name when he was close. the vague wet noises that were because of all of the pre-cum leaking from his tip mixed with his own spit. he had no shame since he was so loud and the ship was the complete opposite; so silent you could hear a mouse walking across the floors.

you just waited. waited until you could hear whatever little noises he made when he finally came. but what really caught you off guard was when he stood up to walk out of the room once he was done. you had to be quick to make it look like you had just walked out of your room too. once his door open you had turned your head to make it look as if he scared you. “what’re you doing up…?” he yell whispered. “i’m thirsty. why are you up?”

the question caused him to freeze in place. he squinted his eyes at you out of annoyance and whispered back “me too…” you could see his breathing quickening. he thought he had gotten caught. but you just continued to act clueless. so you got your water and went back to bed.

the next day during lunch you saw kai sitting down playing with his food. you walked up to him and tapped his shoulder. when he looked up at you he almost instantly looked back down. “hey kai.” you say softly. he flickered his eyes back up at you, flashing a little smile at you. it was so cute that it almost made you crack a smile yourself. “hey…” he whispered back. you decide to tease him a bit when you see how nervous he’s acting. he doesn’t usually act this way. he seems… guilty right now. “how’d you sleep?”

kai keeps his eyes off of yours, still picking at his food. “i slept… i slept pretty good. you?” you decide to mess with him some more but this time by actually doing something.

this time you reach up to his face, tilting his chin up to look at you. he swallows. hard. he can feel his face heating up at your touch. his eyes are soft and glossy. the way he looks up at you is enough to make you go weak in the knees. he licks his lips and moves his eyes to look at something else. “no no no… look at me.” you whisper firmly. “don’t get all shy on me now kai.” he looks confused. almost like he actually doesn’t know what you’re talking about. his eyes widen slightly and his hands start fidgeting with his shirt. you lean down, putting your mouth close to his ear before whispering again, “i know how dirty you really are…” his breathing gets deeper at your words, and his heartbeat accelerates. “w-what?”

you pull away from his ear and let go of his face. you flash a quick innocent smile before turning around to walk out of the lunchroom. by the time you make it to the door kai finally snaps out of the daze he was in and stands up to follow you. when he gets close enough he reaches out to grab your arm and flip you towards him. “what the hell are you taking about, ‘i know how dirty you are’?” he says continuing to walk towards you as you bump into your bedroom door.

he’s towering over you at this point — trying his best to intimidate you but it’s just not working.

“you know exactly what i mean… i know that you touch yourself while thinking of me.” he freezes, his eyebrows go up in realization and he starts to slowly back away from you. he stops moving when you grab the hem of his shirt, pulling him in closer to you. he looks down at you with pleading eyes. almost like he was begging you to make another move. but then he does something that catches you off guard. he tangles his hand in your hair before pulling you in for a passionate kiss. you both moan into like you’ve been waiting for it your whole life.

his grip on your hair gets tighter as his moans turn into whines. little desperate ones that got you so fucking wet that you soaked through your panties. kai used his free hand to open your room door and as soon as he shut the door behind him he began to take off his shirt and pants. once you were both naked, you reached down to stroke him slowly. he choked out a whimper when he felt your warm hand wrap around his pretty dick. the tip was already so wet from the stimulation of his pants rubbing on it before you two took your clothes off. “cmon baby… lemme hear those pretty noises you make all the time.” you whisper as you guide him to the bed. he lays down on his back as you climb on top of him.

his hands instinctively go to your hips as you reach around to line his cock up with your leaking entrance. when you finally sat down on him he cried out in pleasure. he gripped onto your hips so tight you were sure he was gonna leave a mark on you. you just sat there, letting him nestle inside you. you let him take a few seconds to adjust before you started to move your hips. you slid alllll the way up on him just leaving the tip in. you wanted to see how he would react — just wanting to tease him for a bit. “nononono- please just lemme feel you baby please-“ he choked out as he felt your tight cunt leave off his dick.

once you slammed your hips back down onto him little mumbles of ‘thankyouthankyouthankyou’’s left him. he was very vocal. even more than he was the night before. his whimpers were so sweet and soothing unlike his demeanor when he’s not just with you. you could feel his hands gripping onto the flesh of your ass as his moans got higher in pitch with each slam of your hips.

the room was filled with the sounds of lewd squelching and skin on skin. kai just kept getting louder with every move of your hips onto his pelvis and he wouldn’t get any quieter each time you told him to — so… you did what had to be done. you stuck your middle and ring finger into his mouth, muffling his sounds quite well. and by the way his cock twitched inside you, you could tell he liked it a lot.

you could feel his tongue swirl around the digits and his whining still getting higher even with your fingers that were just wrapped around his cock in his mouth.

“cmon lemme make you cum… can i? pleaseee just lemme make you cum baby.” kai mumbled out onto your fingers. you could still understand him quite well in this predicament. as soon as those words escaped his mouth he started to slam his own hips into yours. he wasn’t in this only for himself — he wanted to make you feel good too. your pleasure was his. the only sound that left him were muffled mewls and moans escaping his already distracted mouth. “awh kai… you’re doing so good f’me… wanna make me cum?”

his head nodding with a quickness when you asked that question, his hips stuttering slightly. his moans got a bit louder but only for a second when you removed your fingers from his mouth and replaced them with your own lips. one of his hands once again went up to your hair, tugging at it slightly. he was so close he didn’t know what to do with himself. “ohmygod, keep going m’malmosthere-“ he cried out into your mouth as his eyes slightly rolled back from all the pleasure he was feeling at once.

you could feel this coil in your stomach about to snap with each thrust kai did. you could see his eyebrows knitting up each time he hit your cervix. “there u go kai, make me cum baby…” he could feel himself losing his mind each time your tight little pussy would clench around his length. kai couldn’t even speak if he really wanted to. he was so vulnerable right now that he didn’t know what to do. “fuck fuck fuckkk- m’gnnacum ple-“ is all you hear before you can feel kai spill his load inside you. soon enough you clenched down onto him, your orgasm coming right after his. he was panting beneath you, trying to calm down from what just happened.

his hand was still in your hair when he pulled you down to kiss him sloppily once more before wrapping you in his arms to fall asleep.

“i think you broke me…” he huffs out with a quiet laugh.

୨୧ 𝙖𝙡𝙨𝙤 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙢𝙮 𝙗𝙖𝙗𝙮: @ludicdoll

[superiorsturgeon]

out of curiosity, why do you like sturgeons so much?

A chance to info dump about my favorite fish…?!

I grew up in the Great Lakes area of North America, where fishing is pretty popular but everyone knows that fish populations aren’t anything like “the good old days” when people took out huge numbers of fish while messing up their spawning sites. I got pretty into fishing when I found out that I could catch bluegill in the surrounding farm ponds, and once in a while my family took me to an isolated fishing cabin for vacation, but for years I never encountered a wild fish bigger than a kilogram or two.

BUT THEN…

I found out about sturgeon! They were HUGE fish that had once lived in the rivers and lakes all around my home, and better yet, fish almost exactly like modern sturgeon had existed all the way back in the Cretaceous period alongside the dinosaurs, and they STILL EXIST TODAY!!! The fact that small numbers of these huge dinosaur fish still existed made them seem almost like a real-life lake monster/cryptid, except that we had proof of their existence!

Furthermore, there’s just nothing else like them. Sturgeon get big. Like, REALLY big. The record for the largest sturgeon was almost 11 meters/24 feet long, which is colossal for freshwater animals. They have armor plates of bone running down their sides, and at the same time they don’t have bony skeletons. They also have a crazy mouth structure, which allows them to actually pop their jaws out like a tube and suck up food. And on top of all of this, the adults are absolute tanks. I’ve seen skin nearly 8mm thick, and it’s so tough that people make leather out of it, and they occasionally lose fins or even entire gill plates and just keep on swimming! (I found out about that last one when I tried to wrestle a big female out of a river and my hand went straight into her gills. She didn’t seem that bothered by it!)

For a long time I filed sturgeon along with Alligator Gar, Giant Mekong catfish, and Yangtze paddlefish as a semi-legendary fish that may still exist, but I was never going to see except possibly in an aquarium, until I enrolled in graduate school. For those unfamiliar with grad school in the US, it typically involves both high-level classes as well as an independent research project the student designs and carries out with help from an experienced professor. When my mentor asked what kind of thing I wanted to study, I tossed out “sturgeon” as one such possibility, expecting to hear that I would probably have to limit myself to more common/accessible species.

I was blown away when she said “Actually, I think I know a guy…”

For the next several years, I got to ride along collecting wild adult sturgeon, gathering eggs, and raising the baby fish in a lab and in a hatchery. I was holding something that I had thought of as a semi-mythical lake/river monster in my own hands! I got to see a river choked with giants as big as 2 meters long, and I got to hold a 5-centimeters mottled baby whose armored scutes were still sharp and possessed the little arrowhead shape and big black pectoral fins that remind me of Mickey Mouse ears! In the video below you can even see a little heartbeat! (Don’t worry, this little guy was returned to the tank soon after to recover from his anesthesia!)

Sadly, I didn’t find anything super groundbreaking in my research, but my experience DID land me a job working in sturgeon aquaculture! If you’ve ever had caviar that wasn’t poached, it probably came from a sturgeon farm, and if you want to see a lot of big fish up close, this is a good place to do it! I probably personally handled more individual sturgeon than there are wild fish in several sturgeon species. In addition, while the wild broodstock I mentioned above might reach 2 meters and over 50kg, the sturgeon I dealt with at the farm would easily double that, and there were a LOT of them! I got to see sturgeon behavior that had never been recorded in field guides, and even a few crazy one-in-a-million mutations like the infamous “ghost” sturgeon!

I even got the opportunity to cook my own sturgeon meat (Yeah, I basically turned into the Touden siblings from Dungeon Meshi except for sturgeon instead of RPG monsters). I got pretty good at making smoked sturgeon, but the meat is also good on the grill or baked, and people have been cooking them in various ways for centuries.

My favorite part of the job was physically wrestling the big fish! Sturgeon are easier to grab than other fish with the right know-how, but a human-sized fish often has its own plans for the day and won’t always cooperate. I was pretty good at moving the adults by the time I left that job, but it was still a wild rodeo every time!

Even more exciting was how we spawned each new generation of sturgeon. In the wild, they form massive spawning runs in big rivers that in the past would be enough to tip small boats, but in a lab or farm we have to use other means. I’ll spare you the details, but I am one of a small number of people who have surgically extracted eggs from a live sturgeon and sutured them back up to swim another day.

The tldr of this essay is that sturgeon are a big, crazy-unique fish that have been around a long time, and I’ve spent a lot of my career handling and working with them. There’s just nothing like them for a fish nerd and they’re damn cool!

(Clip art not mine, I think @sturgeonposting drew or shared it!)

[highinmiamiii]

MONEY POWER GLORY

club owner!joe kessler x exotic dancer

A/N: this piece goes hand in hand with @billybutcherxyou / @foxiewrites and I’s DBF!Butcher series. best to be read alongside their most recent post, so make sure to check that out first. (cw: themes of manipulation, power dynamics, implied threats, and mentions of the adult entertainment industry.) NO USE OF Y/N

summary: Kessler, the sleazy owner of Club Kess, where petal works, dangles promises of fame and fortune, but his intentions are far from pure. Highlighting petal’s willingness to play his game, even as she’s fully aware of the dangers that come with it.

—————

She walks into the dimly lit office at the back of the club, the heavy bass from the music outside thrumming through the walls. Kessler, the club’s owner, sits behind an oversized mahogany desk, a fine Cuban cigar smoldering between his fingers. The air is thick with the scent of smoke and the faint tang of his expensive cologne. His eyes, sharp and calculating, follow her as she approaches, amusement flickering in them.

“Ah, there she is,” Kessler purrs, his voice smooth like honey with an underlying edge that makes your skin crawl if you listen too closely. He leans back in his chair, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he gestures for her to sit. “My favorite girl.”

She offers him a small, confident smile, though there’s a tightness in her chest she can’t quite shake. She’s been working for him for some time now, just barely making enough to have a little extra cash after repaying her father’s debts and getting out of every negative situation. Billy still couldn’t seem to get off her ass. She’s good at what she does, and she’s determined to be more than just another one of Kessler’s showgirls.

Once she had even the slightest taste of financial freedom to splurge on a cute top or take herself out to lunch somewhere nice, she’d never go back to her old life. Her life had been full of losses, wins, failures, and falls.

Kessler’s gaze never wavers as she takes her seat across from him, the leather chair creaking slightly under her weight. He exhales a long plume of smoke, watching her with that same calculated amusement, like a cat playing with a mouse.

“I’ve been watching you,” Kessler continues, his eyes narrowing as he takes a drag from his cigar, the smoke curling around his face like a serpent. “You’ve got something… special. A spark, if you will.”

“You’ve been doing good work, sweetheart,” he says, the endearment slipping from his lips like it’s second nature. His voice carries a certain weight, commanding attention, respect, and maybe even a little fear. “Better than most of the girls who walk through that door.”

Her smile widens just a fraction; the words hit their mark. She’s been craving validation like this—something to tell her that all the hours, the effort, the sacrifices are worth it. The faint praise settles into her bones, stoking the fire she keeps burning inside.

“Well, I aim to please,” she replies smoothly, her voice laced with just the right amount of sultriness. She knows how to play her part, knows what Kessler wants to hear. And she’s more than willing to give it to him if it means getting what she wants in return.

Kessler’s smirk deepens, his eyes glittering with something dark, something dangerous. “That’s why you’re my favorite, baby,” he purrs, leaning forward slightly, his gaze locking onto hers with predatory intensity. “You’ve got the looks, the talent, the drive. Everything a girl needs to make it big. And I’m gonna make sure you do.”

She feels a thrill of anticipation run through her at his words. She’s been chasing this dream for as long as she can remember—the idea of being more than just another face in the crowd, of standing out, of having everything she’s ever wanted. Money, power, glory. The trifecta that’s kept her going through every hardship, every setback.

“A-anything, Mr. Kessler,” she says, her voice almost a whisper, leaning in slightly as if she’s afraid to miss a single word. “Tell me what I need to do.”

Kessler’s smile is almost fatherly as he leans back in his chair, taking another drag from his cigar. He likes this part—the moment they’re fully under his spell, ready to do whatever it takes to make his promises come true. He’s seen it a hundred times before, but there’s something about her that makes it all the more satisfying.

“It’s simple, really,” he says, his tone almost conspiratorial. “You just keep doing what you’re doing, baby—keep turning heads, keep bringing in the crowds. Make them want more of you, make them crave you. And when the time is right, when you’re ready, we’ll take that next step.”

He pauses, letting the words sink in, watching as her eyes widen just a fraction, her breath catching slightly in her throat. He’s got her, and he knows it.

“What next step?” she asks, her voice hushed, almost afraid of the answer.

Kessler’s smirk returns, sharper this time. “Movies, baby. Real stardom. You’ve got a face for the camera, and I’m gonna make sure you get there. But you have to trust me, follow my lead. Do that, and you’ll have everything that pretty little heart o’ yours desires.”

She bites her lower lip, a move she knows he finds irresistible, playing into the moment. It’s all she’s ever wanted to hear—the promise of something more, something bigger than the life she’s been living. Dealing with her asshole of a father and his gambling debts, instead of living the life of a normal girl her age, she was working the pole at Club Kess. She’s come too far to turn back now, and Kessler knows that. He’s got her wrapped around his finger, and she can’t even bring herself to care.

“I trust you,” she says, the words coming out easily, as if they were always meant to be spoken. “I’m a big girl, I can take it,” she adds cheekily.

Kessler chuckles, a low, dark sound that sends a shiver down her spine. He reaches out, brushing a thumb across her cheek, the touch as possessive as it is comforting.

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs, his voice rich with satisfaction. “Stick with me, baby, and I’ll make sure the whole world knows your name.”

She feels her heart pound with a mix of fear and excitement. She’s heard the rumors, knows what happens to the girls who fall out of Kessler’s favor, but she’s convinced it won’t happen to her. She’s different. She has to be.

He leans forward, resting his elbows on the desk, his gaze locking onto hers with predatory intensity. “You want more than just the dance floor. You want to be a star.”

The word hangs in the air between them, heavy with unspoken promises. She can feel the pull, the allure of everything she’s ever wanted, dangling just out of reach. But there’s a part of her, the smart part, that knows there’s always a catch when someone like Kessler is involved.

“I do,” she admits, keeping her voice soft, almost vulnerable, knowing that’s what he’s looking for. “But I know it’s not easy. I’m willing to work for it.”

Kessler’s grin widens, and for a moment, she can see the wolf behind the businessman. “That’s what I like to hear, sweetheart,” he says, his tone oozing with false sincerity. “You’re different. I see big things in your future. Movies, magazine covers, hell, maybe even your own show one day.”

The flattery is relentless, and she finds herself nodding along, even as a small voice in the back of her mind tells her not to fall for it. But it’s hard not to, especially when he leans in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

The words are intoxicating, and for a moment, she lets herself believe them. But then Kessler’s gaze hardens, just for a split second, and she catches a glimpse of the man behind the mask—the one who’s willing to destroy anyone who doesn’t play by his rules.

“But remember,” he adds, his tone shifting to something colder, more menacing, “this business is tough. It chews up the weak and spits them out. You keep up your end of the bargain, and I’ll keep up mine. But cross me… and, well, I’m sure you know what happens to girls who get on my bad side.”

She forces herself to smile, to play along with his game. “I won’t disappoint you, I promise,” she says, her voice smooth as silk, hiding the unease coiling in her gut.

“Good girl,” he replies, the smirk returning as he leans back in his chair, satisfied. “Now, go out there and show them what you’re made of. Got big plans for you.”

She nods, offering him one last smile before she turns.

As she’s about to leave, Kessler’s voice cuts through the lingering haze of cigar smoke. “Actually—hold on a sec, baby,” he drawls, his tone smooth but with an edge that halts her in her tracks. She looks over her shoulder, raising an eyebrow in silent question.

Kessler reaches into his desk drawer and pulls out an old Polaroid camera, the kind that spits out instant photos with a soft mechanical whirr. He holds it up, a sly grin spreading across his face. “One more thing before you go. Gotta get a picture to go with the others, yeah? Keeps things personal, keeps us close.”

She hesitates for a moment, feeling a strange twist in her gut. This wasn’t part of the usual routine, but then again, Kessler always liked to blur the lines. “A Polaroid?” she asks, forcing a light tone, though she can’t keep the edge of suspicion out of her voice.

Kessler chuckles, but it’s a low, menacing sound that sends a shiver down her spine. “Just for the collection,” he says, as if that explains everything. “A little keepsake for me. Nothing to worry your pretty little head about.”

The unease deepens, but she can see the challenge in his eyes, the unspoken command. He wants her to trust him, to play along. And if she refuses, if she makes a scene, she knows what that might mean for her future here.

So, she swallows her discomfort and flashes him her best smile, the one she reserves for customers she’s trying to impress. “Of course, Mr. Kessler,” she says sweetly, stepping closer to the desk.

Kessler’s grin widens as he raises the camera, the lens glinting in the dim light. “Say cheese, darling.”

She hears the click, followed by the whir of the camera spitting out the photo. Kessler catches it before it hits the desk, holding it by the edges as the image slowly develops.

She forces herself to stay calm, to keep that practiced smile in place, even as Kessler’s gaze flicks between her and the photo with a predatory glint. “Beautiful,” he murmurs, more to himself than to her, before he slips the photo into his desk drawer, locking it away.

“Alright, baby,” he says, his tone returning to that of the smooth-talking club owner. “You go on now. Remember, I’m watching.”

She nods, mutters a soft “thank you,” and finally makes her exit, feeling the weight of his gaze on her until she’s out the door. As she steps back into the dimly lit hallway, the thumping bass from the club outside washing over her like a wave, she can’t shake the feeling that she’s just crossed some invisible line, one she might not be able to step back from.

But she pushes the thought aside. This is what she wanted—what she needed. If playing Kessler’s game was the price she had to pay for her shot at fame and fortune, then so be it. She’d play, and she’d win.

Because she knew one thing for sure: in this world, you either play the game or get played. And she wasn’t about to let herself become just another one of Kessler’s pawns.

[syoddeye]

consequence / hyacinth

price x f!reader | 1.9k words series directory tags: exes, angst, references to depression. a/n: an ex boyfriend. a story. a kiss. ☕

a surprise trap door. an errant self-driving car. a jet engine falling from the sky. anything to get you out of this.

hyperbolic? maybe. necessary? absolutely. forty-five minutes, and you haven’t gotten a word in edgewise. ben drones on about his studio and his upcoming exhibition. you brought this on yourself by doing the polite thing and asking him how are you?—lesson learned. 

it hurts. it blisters to hear how happy and successful he is and how he’s moved on from the breakup. as if he didn’t leave you hanging with a dinner you couldn’t afford after admitting that he cheated. he hasn’t asked about your wrist, your old flat, or your art career.

eventually, he stands. sets you free.

“i should go, long trip home,” he says, eyes glued to an incoming text. “it was lovely to catch up. thanks for holding onto this junk for me.” he hoists the box off the seat beside him and tucks it under an arm.

you let him kiss your cheek. “yeah. of course.”

he doesn’t look back. you wish you could do the same. 

you order another cider and resolve to not remain looking like the miserable slump you are.

~~~~

>> are you in town?

>> if you are, i could use a drinking buddy

john’s hair is still damp when he spots her at a two-top in the garden, nursing a cider. he waves, then ducks inside for his own drink. his head buzzes with whatever this invite means.

he checked with the florist twice to ensure the flowers arrived intact at her place. made the woman on the phone read back his apologetic note and bit his tongue when she reminded him it wasn’t her ‘place to say whether it sounded good enough or not’. he never heard if she liked them.

there’s a stiffness to her smile but relief in her voice. “you came.”

“‘course.”

“how’re you?”

in six words or less, he knows something’s off. he eases onto the seat, trying to exude a sense of humor and not telegraph his one hundred questions. “undercaffeinated, but i’m more interested in how you’re doing.”

“i noticed you hadn’t stopped in.”

“didn’t think you wanted me to.”

“about that. it was rude of me to kick you out without warning.”

guilt isn’t what he wants. he adjusts course to shoulder the blame. “i crossed a line.”

she isn’t having it. “please, it was rude. i know you weren’t trying to…”

“cross a line? overstep?”

her mouth wavers undecided between a frown and a smile. “you didn’t know. i could’ve explained. spare you £45.”

you. little.

“so you did get them. the note, too?” she nods. “then why the radio silence? hyacinths a bad choice?”

“no, they’re perfect. i just. i sort of froze. i had a rough couple of days.”

the hangdog expression she hides with the glass makes his chest hurt. “i’ve been told i’m a decent listener.”

“it’s a long story.”

“i got time.” he offers quietly. “just got back. caught me in the shower, actually.”

her eyes narrow, curious. “did you dress and come straight here?”

“well, it’s generally frowned upon to walk around naked.”

he beams at her laugh, her shaking shoulders. for a moment, her whole face lights up. it relaxes her posture as it peters off, leaving her looking less like a cornered mouse than when he initially sat down. 

“so.” john pushes carefully. “the paintings.”

her smile lapses into something unreadable, a pause to find the right place to begin. her fingers trace the table’s grate.

when she finally speaks, she refocuses. meets his eye. good. he doesn’t want to twist her arm to get the story. the tale starts innocently enough.

the woman is hannah, her best friend and a ceramicist. they met on the first day of her mfa and were paired for the terms project shortly thereafter. they quickly became inseparable, until his girl met ben.

~~

“i can’t talk about hannah without talking about ben. to talk about ben, you need context.”

john leans in. his thick eyebrows lift in a silent go on. 

“they say it happens when you’re not looking, right?” you nervously laugh, smiling at the table sheepishly, unable to meet his eye. “well, i met ben at a networking event. last place i thought i’d find a date, rubbing elbows with alumni. but he introduced himself, said he liked my portfolio book. told me about his work and all these shows he’d done. he took me to lunch the next day.” 

you wince at the memory, crystal clear and acutely embarrassing. how starry-eyed you’d been. your throat dries, sandpaper scraping down your esophagus at the thought of ben scribbling his number on your wrist. you clear your throat.

“then he asked me to dinner. during lunch.”

if john’s disgusted or disappointed, he doesn’t show it. his self-control is infuriating yet reliable. steady where you’re shaky.

why can’t i be like that?

you push on.

“without diving into minutiae, i eventually had to introduce hannah and ben. they hounded me, because if i wasn’t with one, i was with the other.” 

“jealous of each other.”

“i think so. i agonized. they’re big personalities, i thought they’d clash.” you replay their first meeting in your head. you have a thousand times. “and they did.”

~~

‘differing artistic opinions’ and ‘absurd expectations’ are the root causes of the squabbling she describes. her words, not his.

(he thinks of less charitable ways to characterize interpersonal conflict.)

barrages of text messages competing for her attention. underhanded attempts to get her to cancel plans with the other. emergencies that turned out to be trivial. guilt trips. one particularly ugly screaming match at a mutual friend’s birthday.

(if it were him, he thinks, they’d’ve lost privileges long ago.)

“it took weeks for them to come around to the idea of each other.”

“what was the catalyst?

“me again.”

john hums. he watches her rest against the back of her seat, her arms crossing and tightening over her chest. compressing herself as much as she can. embarrassment rolls off her in waves. he doesn’t say a word, afraid he’ll cut what courage she’s mustered off at the knees.

she has her own idea.

“can we—are you finished?” 

his glass is two-thirds empty, and he polishes off the rest. a fist squeezes his heart when her lip twitches at his abruptness. she makes it difficult to be collected with his interest.

“where to?”

“where else.”

it’s a challenge, defending oneself from an insistent, bullying cat. cece shows no mercy.

“she likes beards.”

“does she see many beards?”

“just a theory.” she leans against the cushions, watching him and the cat, a glass of water held in both hands. “yours is the only one she’s tried.”

in the end, after negotiations, cece loafs between them. her purr a white noise.

“where were we?” her tone suggests she knows precisely where.

“the truce and you.”

her eyes find a spot past his head to rest. he’s tempted to tilt his head into her line of sight, assuming that nudging her on home turf’s a safer bet than in public. but the hesitant, almost imperceptible exhale that leaves her keeps him still.

“alright. so. me.” her chest expands with another sigh. “i was already struggling two terms into school. really struggling. when i applied, i had this clear vision, but then classes started, i met my peers, and suddenly it felt like everything i thought i knew just disappeared. nothing looked right, nothing felt right. i pulled constant all-nighters. sat through brutal critiques. i’m lucky i had thick skin from my job, otherwise, i might have dropped out to join a convent or the circus.”

immediately, his mind conjures the image of a tattooed nun, swiftly followed by a tattooed strongwoman. his lip quirks. he hastily buries what those do for him. later. 

their gazes meet briefly to share a smile.

she licks her lips after a drink and sets the glass aside.

“they realized their bickering wasn’t helping, so they put their heads together. kind of forced us to become the three musketeers. they helped me where they could, and things smoothed out between them in the process. he found her ceramics shows to exhibit. let her move her wheel into our joint space. we were in close quarters, and i needed it. i needed them.”

a couch width is suddenly too far a distance with how she crumples. something difficult passes over her face, and she excuses it with a shrug.

“despite their joint efforts, i barely scraped by that first year. i was burnt out, miserable, and i spent two weeks holed up alone, trying to not go off the rails.”

oh, sweetheart.

“where were they?”

“hannah was visiting family stateside, and ben was traveling for work.”

not that his schedule allows flexibility, not that he’s behaved the perfect partner in the past—but john knows instantly that he would not have left her. he’d’ve been there. the more he hears about ben, the more he wants to meet him. come to a violent understanding. impart a lesson or two on loyalty.

“when ben returned, he told me he decided to move here to ‘reconnect with the country’. something about ‘capturing and celebrating the bucolic’. he wanted long-distance, but i, uh, i said i’d rather quit and move with him. we fought and he called in reinforcements. at hannah and ben’s…encouragement, i finished out the term. and it nearly killed me. as you know, i withdrew.”

john often reads between the lines. a vital skill, interpreting indirect and unintended communication. what’s unsaid. shame pulls her inward again, a moment where she seems smaller. swallowed by the enormity of whatever she doesn’t say. can’t say.

“i know they were disappointed. they didn’t need to say anything. hannah felt abandoned, and ben burdened by my tagging along. i got this awful feeling the morning we left and i ignored it. i was convinced leaving school behind and taking a break from art would fix me.” 

cece stretches, stands, and allows herself to be scooped up. 

she holds the cat under its front legs, bringing their faces closer together. “but it’s like that saying or whatever. ‘wherever you go, there you are’. i got here. settled in. and i was still a loser.”

it’s instinct.

“you’re not–”

she bulldozes.

“i started working at the café. ben booked murals. he painted the big one a few streets over.”

he’s familiar. “the one with–?”

“yep.” she releases cece. “he tried to get me to paint. he begged me. but i couldn’t do it. things took a turn last summer when ben won a huge job in the city, which snowballed into an invitation to exhibit. hannah got busy with the final stretch of the program, and couldn’t visit much.”

“so you were alone again.”

“yeah.” her voice thins, then breaks. “alone again.” she digs the heels of her palms into her eyes before a single tear drops off her lashes. 

john’s beside her before doubt seeds itself in his mind. one arm gathers her to his side, his chin lifting then settling atop her head when she tucks closer. his other arm winds around her, and the slight tremors of her distress ripple through him. she’s quiet, not quite sobbing, but sucking in deep breaths. he rubs her back in a slow circle, murmuring nothings.

“what do you need?” he asks as she gradually stills.

she sniffs. 

“sleep.”

without thinking, he kisses the crown of her head. “okay.”

john only catches a glimpse as she hands him a quilt. but he sees them. blue hyacinths, pinned and drying above her bed.

“sorry. this is all i got. you set?”

he smiles at her sweet, tear swollen eyes. 

“yeah. i’ve got all i need.”

[dark-and-kawaii]

I've always wondered how would Raphael or Haarlep react to another devil/incubus stealing their Tav away. Would they get jealous and protective? Or would they be angry that someone is stealing something that belongs to them?

Oooooohhhh I love this!!!! Hehehe love me some angst!!! Let’s do it!!! I couldn’t pick so I did both :3 because they are both perfect and we love them both (≧ᗜ≦)!!!

♡ Pairings: Raphael x Tav/Reader - Haarlep x Tav/Reader

♡ Content: Angst

₊˚⊹♡ Raphael ♡⊹˚₊

Papers, once carefully organized, lay strewn across his grand flooring like fallen leaves in a storm. His bed, once a symbol of everything sinister he’s done to you and you to him was now shattered, its luxurious fabrics torn to shreds, the feathers from the pillows still falling from the air. However, the most telling sign of his fury was the portrait -one of his most prized possessions- now bore deep, jagged marks from his own nails… A testament of his uncontrollable rage as he found you missing- taken from him by another…

Raphael’s breathing came out in ragged gasps, each exhale a growl… The room echoing from the sounds of his heavy footsteps as he paced, his mind racing with ways of torturing the one who dared lay their filthy hands on you, his little mouse…

Closing his eyes, he tried to take a deep breath to calm his nerves, but his mind flashed to the moment he realized you were gone. The emptiness of your usual spot, laying on his bed, awaiting for his return. Your arms always held out to him, your arch devil… Your king… The spot usually lingering the scent of your presence now tainted by the stench of another devil. It was a violation… You were his little mouse, his precious treasure… His possession. And now, someone had you all to themselves… Raphael’s nose scrunched at the thought of what this devil might be doing to you…

His claws flexed, the tips scarping against his wall with a screech that resonated throughout his house of hope. He would find you, and he would tear apart the very fabric of Hell if he had to.

Moving towards the shattered bed, his eyes narrowed as he spotted the tinniest pieces of torn fabric… Your fabric from the dress he gifted you. Picking up the golden red piece, Raphael brought it to his nose. Your scent was faint but it was enough to cause his tail to flick in anger, “They shall pay dearly, my little mouse.”he vowed, his voice barely a whisper, “I will devise torments beyond the darkest imaginations of any devil.”

And with a snap, he was gone.

₊˚⊹♡ Haarlep ♡⊹˚₊

Haarlep’s heart pounded in his chest as he took in the scene before him. There you were, in the arms of another incubus, their arm around your neck, their tail creeping up your loose shirt. The desperation in your eyes to get away was evident, tears brimming as you choked out your beloved incubus’s name, “H-Haarlep…”

The incubus holding you smirked, it’s tongue dancing along your ear, “I’ve heard this little thing of yours in quite the prize, Haarlep . You should be a good little devils pet and share.”

Fury and fear clashed within Haarlep, emotions he’s never experience when involving another… And something else- something protective swirled within him.

He’s played games like this before, he knew how to get what he wanted- especially from a lowly creature, they were simple afterall, he should know. Haalrep’s hips swayed seductively as he approached where you stood, his fingers tracing the ornate posts of your bed, “Why would you ever want a soft, squishy little toy like her,” he purred, his voice dripping with honeyed temptation, “when you could have me~”

The sounds of fire dancing around Haarlep filled your ears as he shifted into your form, every detail perfect down to the last scar, “I feel like her~ sound like her and~” he stopped just in front of you and the other incubus, his eyes locking onto the creature’s with a challenging gleam. Slowly, teasingly, Haarlep removed his top, revealing your identical chest, “you can’t break me like you could with her~ Haarlep taunted, his voice so confident, his eyes flicking to you, “you can use me to your heart’s content~”

Haarlep's eyes stayed on you for a moment, his little dove. He’d never share such a treat, such a delight that belonged to him with another. No other would ever taste you, feel you, suckle on your soul as they fed off you… No, your entire being, your body, your soul, it all belonged to him.

The promise of an unbreakable plaything was tempting for the other incubus. And just as the incubus reached out to grasp your- Haarlep’s chest, Haarlep's hand shot up, gripping the incubus’s wrist, allowing you to wriggle free and escape their grip. Fleeing behind Haarlep, you held onto his back and watched as your incubus had his fun.

“You shall make a pretty decoration!” Haarlep grinned wickedly, he would use this creature as an example, a warning to those who else dare try to lay claim to you. String up their empty husk like a decoration, their tail used like a makeshift string in a tree… Yes, it would be the most beautiful display of a warning. You were his, and he’d make sure all knew this.

[the-lavender-clown]

MORE COWBOY AU STUFF BECAUSE I’M OBSESSED!!! The au I’ve made with some friends is called Fool’s Gold! I may or may not write some fics for it 👀

Here’s an infodump on it if anyone is interested!!

Raph is tired sheriff who sighs at every newspaper & new wanted poster showing off his blue and purple brothers as well as Donnie’s partner in crime but a he can’t help but be a little proud because he knows their doing good, just in their own special & questionable way.

Mikey is a nomad that travels around & sells self-woven clothes and blankets as well as hand carved & painted trinkets or whatever else he’s made. He treats weary travelers to home cooked meals & tales & legends of four brothers! He’s also the only brother not *constantly* making trouble for Raph.

Leo is a lone hero. Going town to town & over throwing whatever greedy mayor/banker/outlaw has that town in its clutches. He’s able to masterfully manipulate whoever he’s dealing with & using his many resources to gather important information. He ties them up to a post for the sheriff’s convenience when he comes by the town to pick them up.

Donnie & Cass are bounty hunters/mercenaries. They used to chase each other for their bounties & because Cass was a part of the Foot before the brothers took them down & Donnie just so happens to often be the closest to her trail once she popped up again. After awhile of constantly failing to catch each other they started thinking of each other as *their* targets & everyone knew better than to try and catch the other. A fun little song & dance/game of cat & mouse if you will. Eventually they ended up having to run from the same person together & realized that they honestly make a good team & have stuck together ever since!

Shelldon is adopted by Donnie before he & Cass teamed up. He was told by the Purple Dragons to get close to Donnie so they could catch him in exchange for enough money to set him for life, money they had no intention on giving him. He did get close to Donnie but in the end didn’t want to betray him but the Dragons had accounted for that & set off an explosion in a mining tunnel to get rid of them both. Donnie ended up being able to get Shelldon a little clear of the crumbling tunnel before he was trapped under the rumble. Shelldon doesn’t want to leave him but eventually does & immediately goes to try to find help, coming across Leo who had found Donnie’s spooked horse & was trying to find out what trouble Donnie had gotten himself into since his horse never leaves unless something really bad happened. Donnie ends up losing a leg cuz is it truly an F!Donnie if he doesn’t?

Casey is adopted after Donnie & Cass team up. They were in town for some groceries when Raph told them about this kid in some not so great circumstances & said it’d be a shame if someone were to beat up his guardians & kidn@p him while he was busy with all this paperwork. Donnie & Cass were gone before he finished. They weren’t gonna pass up an opportunity where they had permission to do a crime after all!

The main difference between Leo & Donnie’s work is that Donnie always cashes in the bad guys for money & can be hired for jobs as well as uses semi lethal methods while Leo mainly does it for fun & justice (& to mess with Raph) & takes like a free drink as payment before moving on. Leo will leave notes on the bad guys for Raph for when he comes to pick them up.

“The Bread Winners” is the name of Donnie, Casey, Shelldon, & Junior’s gang because Casey’s brownie scouts & my Donnie baker hc. It also shows that they’re in it for the money & fits with how the go undercover as a family often. Plus it sounds innocent enough to disguise how insane they really are.

That is it for now!! Hope some of y’all like it!!

Here’s the drawing without the text in the middle

[pucksandpower]

Charles Leclerc x Vettel!Reader - Social Media AU

y/nvettel

Liked by sebastianvettel, mickschumacher, and 185,263 others

y/nvettel pretty sure i’m being bribed

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redbullracing we would never try to bribe you … but hypothetically is it working?

y/nvettel hypothetically i’m on a caffeine cleanse but the flowers are lovely 🫣

mercedesamgf1 “bribed” is so harsh, we much prefer “gifted”

mickschumacher what they said

y/nvettel i know you put them up to this, micky mouse

astonmartinf1 what could possibly beat our cupcakes?

mercedesamgf1 our chocolates

tipsytifosi nothing from ferrari?

scuderiaferrari keep an eye out 🔜

y/nvettel

Liked by charles_leclerc, scuderiaferrari, and 197,615 others

y/nvettel many teams have tried to buy my love but only one succeeded by sending along a cute monégasque

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charles_leclerc all in a day’s work

arthur_leclerc has charles happened to mention that he’s had a massive crush on you since he was teammates with your brother?

charles_leclerc shut it, arty

y/nvettel did he really?

y/nvettel it’s just funny because i’ve had a massive crush on him since then too

charles_leclerc we were pretty oblivious

scuderiaferrari should we add “matchmaker” to our resume now?

forzafiona charles is called il predestinato for a reason 😌

charles_leclerc

Liked by y/nvettel, scuderiaferrari, and 968,352 others

charles_leclerc back in red where she belongs

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y/nvettel you made a good selling point 😘

scuderiaferrari is it too early to sign any future leclerc-vettel children to lifetime contracts?

feralferrari you guys are taking this whole matchmaker thing really seriously 😳

tifositalking it’s smart business trying to secure the next generation

sebastianvettel I may not be around the paddock anymore but I still know where you live and I take my big brother duties very seriously

y/nvettel halfway around the world and you still find ways to embarrass me

sebastianvettel I only do it because I love you, schwesterchen

*translated from german: little sister*

y/nvettel i love you too. even when you annoy me

charles_leclerc i promise to do everything in my power to treat y/n like a princess

y/nvettel you are the sweetest, schatz