#Ben thinking about trying a butterfly to see what it tastes like

[pokemon1oadvanced]

[nartml]

To Pimp a Butterfly and 1989: a rant

Listen here, three things about me are that I'm a) white as snow, b) Greek, c) still a minor.

What does this mean? It means that I obviously wasn't raised with hip-hop, and I got into Kendrick Lamar's music pretty late.

As in, early this year.

I've known of him for some time, and the moment I found out he had a Pulitzer prize at some point in late-ish 2023, I decided I had to sit my ass down and pull out Spotify.

Now, as an avid reader of both fanfiction (ao3 raised me) and books [I feel the immense need to clarify that I don't associate myself with mainstream booktok. Capitalism's consumerism has overrun that shit and all I see are the same 20 books being recycled and recommended (a substantial amount of those are Colleen Hoover and her variants). Tropes and spice* are officially the defining factors of whether a book is worth it (*your porn addiction ain't cute) and quantity is heavily prioritized at the expense of quality. Also, diversity who?], I was, for a lack of a better word, hyped.

A Pulitzer prize is nothing to scoff at in general, more so in music, more so in hip-hop.

(Edit: Upon quick reflection, I realize that putting emphasis on hip-hop can come across as coded.

I am in no way, shape, or form trying to undermine hip-hop or say that it's somehow less 'sophisticated' than, for example, classical music. I'm very aware of the amount of skill and technique one needs to write a masterful hip-hop album, and I'm not doubting that there are hip-hop artists out there who are also incredibly deserving of such a prize. I meant it in the sense that I've unfortunately never heard of another hip-hop artist who won a Pulitzer before, which is quite telling.)

That's some huge shit, and I'd be a fool not to be intrigued.

Admittedly, I didn't get on that immediately. For a while I procrastinated, because I wasn't in the mood to hyper-fixate on anything new just yet.

Which of course meant I ended up forgetting about it for a few months, because of course I did.

But then I came across a TikTok that talked about how it was insane that '1989' won the Grammy when To Pimp a Butterfly was right there.

Now, a fourth thing about me is that I don't fuck with Taylor Swift.

And a fifth thing about me is that I'm not baseless in anything that I do, say or feel, and that includes annoyance.

Her immature understanding of activism and feminism leaves a bad taste in my mouth. The way she built up her fan base around this portrayal of her as a relatable girl's girl, her refusal to accept criticism, and always making a victim out of herself (even now when she's in her thirties and is a fucking billionaire) while never using her position of power and privilege for good are all reasons that serve to fuel my dispassionate dislike.

And before any Swifties get on my ass, no, I don't think that "But she's a singer! Why are you expecting so much out of her, she isn't even qualified to speak on XYZ—" is a good enough excuse.

She has always been rich, and now she's a billionaire. There are no ethical billionaires, and that includes her.

Fame is influence is power. Uncle Ben said it all: With great power comes great responsibility.

And let me tell you, I don't see her owning up to that responsibility, especially after all that talk about how she supports women, supports the LGBTQ community, and supports the BLM movement. Has she ever actually put her abundant money where her mouth is?

I've never seen her speak about anything that doesn't immediately concern her.

Don't get me wrong. She's not the only celebrity like this out there. I'm sure there are worse cases. I know it for a fact.

To wrap this segment up before I get even more sidetracked, I'll outright state that I don't hate her, because hating her would by definition mean that I, in some way, actually care about her, and that just sounds exhausting.

Best way to describe me is indifferent, leaning towards distasteful.

She's annoying.

And that's how I feel about both her as a person and her as an artist.

I'm not denying her talent, nor her impact on the industry, nor the fact that she does have good songs that even I like.

A select few, of course, but still.

Apart from those...what? Ten songs? I have never, ever been able to listen to any other song of her's all the way through.

I get bored. They do nothing for me. They sound empty. Hollow. Plastic. Repetitive.

Her lyrics, that are praised by fans for being deep and complex, sound pretty surface level to me.

Not all of them. But I'm a sucker for analysis. A literature nerd. Greek is my native language. I can tell when something's deep and when something wants to be deep.

(Not necessarily including Folklore and Evermore in that category. Her storytelling ability is actually great.)

Her music largely sounds like it wants to be deep.

Most recent example being her latest release, The Tortured Poets Department.

Anyway, back to Kendrick.

My initial plan was to listen to 'DAMN.' first, because that's what he won the Pulitzer for in the first place.

There was a change of plans after that TikTok.

I decided to compare the opening tacks.

I put on Welcome to New York, and predictably, I felt nothing.

The rhythm is dance-y, I suppose. But there's nothing substantial about it. There's nothing exciting about it.

The lyrics are juvenile, and I get it, it's a pop song and she was in her twenties.

Nobody is expecting Shakespeare (no matter how much you scream or kick your feet, the only reason Shakespeare couldn't write Taylor Swift is because he's in another league entirely) or Odysseus Elytis. Nobody is expecting mind-blowing lyricism.

But it's the opening track to an apparently Grammy-worthy album. The very least I'd expect from it would be some additional levels of artistry.

Am I being harsh? Probably. Do I care? No.

Disappointed but unsurprised, I put on Wesley's Theory.

I ascended within the first minute.

Don't get it twisted, I barely understood shit.

Not only am I white, I am also entirely removed from America and its culture as a whole. I don't know what's going on there in y'all's daily lives.

And this was baby's first proper introduction to hip-hop as a whole.

My untrained, white-ass ear barely caught two references. I got what the gist of the song was about, and that's about it.

I had to look up analyses of the track to fully grasp what Kendrick was on about, and even then, there was obviously still a disconnect.

And I expected all of that.

I didn't expect to get hooked on that song within the first listen.

I swear to fuck, the beat is addictive. I swear to fuck, even when I was fighting to understand what the lyrics were referencing, I was having the time of my life.

Even I, an amateur in every sense of the word, could tell that there was depth and there was quality and there was intentional meaning in every line of that song.

It didn't matter that I couldn't understand it. It mattered that I knew it was there. Not because someone told me that was the case. But because it was audible.

I listened to the next track. And the one after that. And the one after that. I had listened to all of the tracks, before I knew it.

And the evident permeance of quality, of substance, carried on throughout the whole album.

It had exactly the type of lyricism I'd expect a Grammy-worthy album to have. It had exactly the amount of artistry I expected a Grammy-worthy album to have.

Even better, it had all the ingredients I expected a timeless album to have.

The poetry Taylor Swift fans insist hides in her discography, I found in plain sight within Kendrick Lamar's.

After meticulously reading the lyrics, I watched video essay after video essay, searched for analysis after analysis on this album, each time understanding the meanings behind it a little better.

Needless to say that the Grammy's are rigged and I love Kendrick Lamar.

Hip-hop is gorgeous.

[newtonsheffield]

Oh my god what happened on the two day first date in Kate’s free days in Blushing All The Way Home??

So we saw how their first date went, Anthony’s grand romantic gesture of a picnic in a private park with Newton running around them.But you’re right. Kate has one more day off before the next city in her tour kicks off and Anthony’s not going to just let that day slip away after the best date of his life.

Anthony woke with butterflies thrumming in his stomach still. They hadn’t gone away since he’d stood at Kate’s door yesterday, her hand still warm in his, the smile on her face growing something in his chest.

“I had a really nice time today, Thank you.” Kate said gently, her lips brushing his and Anthony grinned, nodding his head.

“I had the best day today.” Anthony breathed, “I loved getting to know you.”

Her nose wrinkled as she smiled again and her hand twisted in the front of the sweater he’d spent two days picking out as she drew his lips down to hers.

“I like you,” Kate sighed against his lips, “I know we really just met but I like you. And I want to see you again.”

“I definitely want to see you again.”

He’d left moments later with the taste of her lips on his still, and he’d gotten in the car and let out a roar of excited triumph not caring if she could see him.

“Benny, I’m fucking in LOVE!”

Ben’s voice had sighed through the phone, “Is she that beautiful in person?”

Anthony sighed, “She is; but that’s not why I’m in love with her. She is funny, the way she talked about songwriting as a form of storytelling and how she wants people to be able to relate to what she’s saying. Like a shared experience. She is talented, and funny, and when she kissed me, I swear to god, Ben, I literally just… I thought I was going to die.”

Ben was silent for a long moment before he sighed, “You’re actually going to fucking marry Kate Sharma, aren’t you? And I’m going to have to give a speech and look like a complete dickhead for having teased you over it!”

“Yes! I can’t wait!”

It hadn’t worn off, when he woke up this morning and found on his phone, a message waiting, a picture of Newton, sleeping belly up beside a grand piano

You tuckered him out

Anthony grinned, Did I tucker you out?

He watched the dots appear and then disappear for a long moment before they came back again and Anthony’s heart hammered

Not so tired that I wouldn’t want to see you again while I happen to still be in London.

Anthony punched the air, his mind already racing, Do you like Ice cream?

Obviously

Anxiety fluttered in his chest as Kate knocked at the door. He fixed his hair in the hall mirror and took a deep breath opening the door.

She had sunglasses on and the hood of her jacket pulled over her head as she stood on the street. He swallowed.

“Hey.”

“Hi, Ant.”

His stomach fluttered, “Ant? Do I have a nickname already?”

She shrugged and her lips brushed his cheek, “I like think it suits you.”

He stepped aside to let her pass and her shoulder brushed his chest and he could have screamed, “Can I take your jacket?”

She handed it to him, staring at him as she stood in the hallway, “You’re very handsome. Do you know that?”

Anthony felt his cheeks flush, “I’d be very glad to hear it again.”

“You’re very handsome.” She smiled, “You’ve told me I’m beautiful a few times now and I just… want you to know I feel the same.”

He smiled back at her and took her hand, leading her into the kitchen. “So, I don’t want you to think that I brought you here to try and proposition you. I just have really good homemade ice cream and a popcorn machine and I want to hang out with you again. I love hanging out with you.”

Kate chuckled and her chest bumped against his arm, “I’m supposed to believe you made ice cream for me?”

Anthony let out a gasp of mock horror, “I’m an amazing cook.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, “I’m trying to decide if that fits with what I know about you. A sweet guy with thick thighs who cooks, sounds a little too good to be true.

Anthony laughed, staring at his legs, “Thick thighs?”

She looked a little embarrassed, but shrugged, “It’s the truth as far as I’m concerned.”

Anthony clicked his tongue, “Okay, my brother the chef made this ice cream, but it is good. And I am a great savoury chef! Remind me to make you dinner sometime.”

“Sounds like a date.”

[stclenrelic-a]

@captaincandycane​

It's not very often that Loki goes out. She doesn't generally like going to clubs. Most days she prefers to go to a local bar, order a few glasses of wine and spend the evening having conversation with her friends or her husband. Yet, considering how Loki felt their marriage had been in a little bit of a slump lately, her friend suggested trying something completely new: go out to a club, get shitfaced and party til the break of dawn. She had told Ben about their plans, using her friend's birthday as an excuse as she's not quite willing to tell him what's been on her mind, and told him to not expect her back until morning. A good thing, really, considering the events that followed. Instead of dancing, Loki finds herself stirring a cocktail of some sort. She doesn't even really know what it is, but it tastes fruity and it's helping her get shitfaced. As planned. But it doesn't make her feel like partying. At least not yet. What she does do, however, is complain to her friend about her relationship. "Ben is amazing.. He's perfect. He's a gentleman, he opens doors for me, he kisses my hand a lot, brings home roses... Hell, he asks about my day and actually listens when I talk to him. So why is it that I don't feel like I'm in love anymore? Why is it that I don't get butterflies when I see him? Or feel sad when he's gone.. like I cannot wait for him to come back. I know people say that the infatuation fades after time but---" But she doesn't WANT it to. Loki is a lot of things, including but not limited to: incredibly smart, beautiful, successful, rich and, if she has to believe the people she's slept with, also good in bed. But she also really hates how her life has become so incredibly bland. She craves chaos, passion and she longs to be excited about things again. Do something different. It's not her work, she knows that much at least. Being one of the best lawyers in the country she gets a lot of different interesting cases to dive into. So, the only thing it can be is her love life. Oh, and she didn't even mention the fact that Ben really wants to be a dad, and even the thought of it has Loki feel like she's going to suffocate. She's not even sure if it's because she doesn't want to be a mom, or because she doesn't want to tie herself to Ben that much. Her friend, who is equally drunk, soon points at a handsome stranger near the bar. "I tell you what  ---  you go kiss him, I won't tell Ben, I promise. And maybe that will give you some clarity on what it is you want." Now. Sober Loki would have immediately argued that that is a terrible idea, but drunk Loki thinks it is genius, and also loves the thought of causing a little chaos in her own life. She might regret it in the morning, but that's not a problem for present Loki. With a determined nod, Loki sets her glass down, slides off her wedding ring and hands it to her friend, before she makes her way over to the stranger. Or, Steve, as she learns soon enough. They chat for a while, share a few drinks, dance, and before she knows it... well, it technically still counts as a kiss, Loki just never meant to take it this far. Had her friend been sober, Loki's sure she would have stopped her. Alas, she doesn't. And so, Loki ends up going home with the stranger. They make out for a while and then end up having sex. Mindblowing, amazing sex that is definitely the best sex she has had in her ENTIRE life. As wrong as it may be, and as much as she would feel guilty about it in the morning, this moment... being here in bed with Steve and having such an incredible time.. it's the most alive she's felt in years. The next morning, however, she wakes up before Steve does. Luckily, because that is definitely not a conversation she is ready to be having. Her head is throbbing and she's feeling guilty even more than that, and while staying in the stranger's arms seems very tempting, Loki knows she has to go. She slips out of Steve's hold and out of the bed, quickly taking her underwear and dress back on. She fixes her hair in the mirror and finds her heels near the front door. When she gets home, she's sure Ben knows what she has been up to.. After all, she probably kind of smells like Steve, and she's sure she has a couple of hickeys, but... as mentioned before, Ben is perfect. And he proves that once more by not asking any questions and simply getting her a glass of water and some painkillers.

[the-silver-peahen-residence]

I read your drabble regarding the future family and...SO CUTE!!

Can you write another one and didn't the drabble have other kids involved in it too? Can we see some? :3

And maybe the devils seeing this too since the heirs are seeing them taking over New York City?

((Hi there dear, hope your well this morning. I'm glad you liked the little drabble there. Aren't they though? <3 And you wish for another one? Sure, I can try thinking of one to write up. Some of the Devils, The DBT (some included in this one) belong to my friend @demon-blood-youths ))

Silver butterfly mun/Peahen mom

"I still can't believe you have two small demons of your own. Their so small.." Melinda blinks while seeing Abi sitting on Lyilus lap who was spoiling the little pup. She was eating some home make cookies Jaron made while she was smiling. Her hair was put in a ponytail by her grand devil who was seeing how beautiful she was.

"What a little heartbreaker she is. She has taste and class of her choice and her clothing is just beautiful!! You are so cute just like your parents. A smart little one indeed." he smiled looking to her.

"Thank you grandpa devil Lyilus!" she smiled even winning his heart. So cute!!!!!

"Well, I wasn't expecting to get pregnant with his kids, Yen. Can you blame me?" she said but saw him looking to Benjamin who was holding his finger. He was in human form to hold the baby but Ben giggles finding him funny.

"Even so..this little one is...adorable.." he said even seeing Ben blink back but he giggled squirming in his arms. Yeah, he was seriously cute!!!

"..........."

"Uhhh, you okay-"

"I wish to protect these precious demons. I won't let anyone harm them." he said but Melinda and Jaron sweatdrops. Yeah, that was new. "Well, it's the same for the others I know that much.." she said seeing the other fractions together with their devils speaking about the take over of NYC.

Near by, Goa was holding a girl in her arms while she had her cheeks rubbed by Orochi smiling.

"So cute, so cute, so cute cute cute...I never knew Isabella and Sai could make such a little thing." he said smiling while the little one Rosa had her cheeks held. Two small snakes were wrapped around her shoulders (One white and one purple) while looking confused. She had curly dark brownish hair with some white highlights.

"Uhhh thank you." she mutters looking up to her grand devil with her yellow serpentine eyes with a hint of purple.

"She serious is adorable though. I'm so happy to meet her finally." Goa smiled nuzzling Rosa's cheek as the little ones eyes were closed blushing from the attention. Nagi was happy but looks to Shdwkyz and Vivi seeing this.

"Wasn't expecting to have a little one of your own huh?" he asked.

"Not really but....I'm happy with it. She is a mix of me and Vivi." He said proudly with Vivi having her arms over her chest.

"And yet, she's just as bad as both of us...." she added in.

"....In being smart or just the same?" Nagi asked.

"Both.." Vivi and Shdwkyz said seeing Nagi blink. Yeah, that sounds about right. He even looks seeing a giggling girl sitting on Zaro's shoulder who was riding in the air with her. Ironia was watching from the ground with Breezy and Rust who was seeing their daughter Bridget who was excited.

"..Oh my..she's just like you and Rust together.." she said with Rust rubbing the back of his head and Breezy rubbing her nose.

"Can't blame us. Besides, she is our little knight after all." Breezy smiled but Rust laughed.

"Yeah. She is a mix of me and Breezy but I'm so proud of her." he grins. He sees Zaro flying around that Bridget was smiling while cheering.

"And who knows? Who else could be part of this too-" As Ironia speaks, a explosion was heard seeing a older Teenager echo coughing and a older Navarro doing the same.

"Ughhhh..Damn it! Jinx, I told you to stop touching the machine!! You broke it again!" she barked holding a wrench.

"SORRY!!" Jinx said laughing while helping Ink up to her feet. They were doing a short spar together and ended up breaking the teleport machine again.

"YEAH! sorry!!!" Ink laughed as the two bombers felt their eye twitch. Well, seems things never change huh?

[brooklynislandgirl]

Inflections, tones, repeating human algorithms are equations she cannot quite grasp. She subsists on the braille of Ben to make up for her lack. Every mote of light interconnected by his grief. Every fractured flaw that only makes him wonderfully, miserably alive. He's cut himself open and bled his spleen out in front of her giving her a glimpse of the vulnerability beneath. Reminds her of the stories of towers built out of stone and shrouded in thorn briars. There's no hair to climb and no kiss that can wake him. Whatever disillusioned him from his most formative years banished any sense of mercy the universe may have had for Ben. She's not sure what he's trying to bring to her attention to, whether or not it means he accepts that she has the feelings she does for him. The foundation shifts treacherously like sand under low tide. She's counted Ben to be a friend from the first time they contemplated imaginary murder together. Long before she knew that he didn't have to make it all up whole-cloth. She'll gladly swallow that anger for him. That rage against the human condition, his own included. Maybe especially his. Though she's sure if she said it allowed, asked him to let her come rushing in and soothe the roiling liquid heat of him like sea-water, he'd shrink back. Push her away and salt the earth between them. "See what?" A thickened slur of a tone, cotton candy on a summer day, sweet but sticky.

She has a painting in her lodgings. Red slashes of paint with cracks of black showing through, radiating like scars throughout. She will never show it to him. Never tell him that the violent brushstrokes and quiet despair that flowed when she made are now in her head indelibly called by his name. She won't show him half the portraits she's created in his image. For her, she much prefers the living flesh and the active mind that he would casually tell her is empty but only because he doesn't the right perspective. Just as she does, he lives in himself. She thinks she can taste a trace of guilt in the way he squirms as quietly beneath her. It must be an uncomfortable weight on his shoulders. Her. The fact that he seems to understand what she said, even if she hadn't said it very clearly. Ben didn't have to say it first. He's shown her in so many other ways. Little things. Trying to show her his own art. Letting her come and go through his space with all the permanence of a spring breeze. Pulling her close when all of him aches and buries himself in her hair. Even the bruises left on her hips when he does bite into her whether because she's crossed a line or hasn't risen to meet all of the things tucked inside of his head. The way he bears his teeth in a smile that dies too quickly. How his hair falls into his eyes and he doesn't bother to look up until she puts the mug of coffee or tea within reach. He doesn't ask her anything, not really. Everything he knows about her has been volunteered. With Ben, she can be anyone she chooses to be. She can change and adapt and sometimes she can be nothing at all. He doesn't know what a gift that is. One she can only repay by taking up as little space as she can, and not make demands. She's very good at both those things. She can tuck herself under his wing and hardly leave an impression. She can go away for as long as he needs her to until his solitary confinement brings him back around to some shadowy sort of equilibrium. The sort that is leaking out between his lashes. Salts his lips with her Mother's soul. When he finally puts his hand on her back ~skin partially exposed in her leaning that he must feel the delicate balance between skirt and flesh, the textures and temperatures between the two at odds with one another~ she shivers. And where he might feel like a meek thing unsure of what to do with her, she in turn is a butterfly shaking wet wings under the noonday sun of him. All it really costs him is the idea of wanting her closer for her to rush his shores with a knee on either side of his wide hips. Her hands melt over the breadth of his shoulders, veritable mesas compared to her own, all of him the open desert vista that had almost felt like death to her until Ben happened. It takes all of her natural instinct not to catch his offering between her teeth. To bite into them until the seams she can see up-close split apart and she slakes herself on the iron tang of his vitality. Instead the tip of her tongue traces the edge of it from one corner of his mouth to the other. At least until she feels more than hears what he says as they breath one another in. And while he grips her like a rusted anchor, dragging her convictions down to a place she finds no solid footing, she has to pull back. Green-and-honey gaze hazy, a forest surrounded by mists, her brows hovering over them like the threat of a thunderstorm, she tilts her head and stares at him in utter confusion. "How…how are you so… sensitive, so understandin'….an' so deaf f' wha' I say?" The words slip out from between her teeth before her better angels have a chance of shutting the gate on them. "I nevah say I no like you. I say… I…" She falters. "I don' t'ink…I don't t'ink..."

🤍 @brooklynislandgirl:// { cont'd from goodness gracious }

— ☾ —

There isn't enough time to batten down any hatches before Beth washes over him. Her words first, and then—

Ben's never been to the sea, but this must be what it's like when the waves hurl. Stings a little, and it's like how Kenny said, sometimes when he got wiped out by a big wave, he got the feeling of falling. Getting sucked over, then under, body all tumbled around. Ben feels like that now.

Beth doesn't like him, but she lays her lips on him. Fuck is that?

"See?" Ben says, likely of her moods. Not in any particular tone. Soft, like. In a breath, warm with a touch of basil, over hers.

Is he supposed to pretend, too? He lets Beth's mood speak for itself. Doesn't draw away, doesn't fight it. Could be this is just another one passing by. Beth's moods come in hues and textures in the multitudes. Every day is some new starry night, brilliance, or eclipse. She says Van Gogh made something like 900 paintings, and maybe that's what it's like when you're Beth. Ben only has one mood repeating, slightly offset, like what you'd make with a silk screen. At least, it seems that way. Feels that way? Maybe.

Is that what she sees, where he sees the Van Goghs? Badness repeating? He committed the unforgivable, not once, not twice, and now he was bad for business and anyone with a reputation. Bad at making himself emendable. Bad at getting close to people. Bad at talking, though he'd always been bad at talking. Bad at trying. Couldn't even pay a hooker to hook 'cause he made the hooker feel bad, him 'looking all doleful.'

Is that what she wants him to feel? Bad? He's supposed to feel bad? He feels bad. He feels Beth's hands on his grey nylon thighs while he digs one red-knuckled fist into the foam pad, and the other fumbles artlessly around one of the dusty carton slats behind them. It's the wood incident all over again.

You know, but he feels other things. He dreams of things he doesn't have words for. He's got pictures of them up there in his head. Some of them are Beth. Some of them are Ben and Beth together. Some are hazy sketches of recall, things he only thinks he remembers. Like, there being this sore thing, this tenderness in Beth the night she stitched him up.

Was that for him? It's stupid to hope when there's a chance Beth'll regret this kiss, the way his body, enough a barge to carry each of her moods to shore, compresses instead. 

He doesn't remember much from that night besides saying a lot of stuff he now regrets. The thing about stuff is it takes up space, and there's got to be room in his life for Beth’s stuff, too, she was going to be in it. Ben knows that, but he said it; he doesn't know how sometimes. He can tell her where the tears came from, though, without having to say. The tears, they come from that deep ocean world they share, a place of sorrow and ruins. They come from not knowing how to be what she wants. They come from not knowing how to be angry. They come from not knowing how to speak the words he wants to speak. They come from doubt, and shame, and need. They come from Ben.

Maybe they're Beth's too. Her tears, her mouth sweet and hot against his, and maybe she can't breathe him to life, but she's got her triumphs. Her finest is how she kisses him with such slowness that Ben presses his lips to hers like a lamb, gingerly but blindly, trembling and unsure.

Her hair is soft, out of a shampoo commercial. Smells like something he didn't know they could make hair products out of. Then there is her smell of burnt honey and sun. His uncurled fist wavers over Beth, awaiting cue or guidance, ultimately settling for the small of her back. Ben pulls her onto his lap like he's done so many times before.

He holds her upright by the waist and, finding Beth's mouth again, grazes his plush lower lip over hers as though to make sure he remembered how she did it, that he isn't breaking any more pieces of her than he already has. And then again, his lips murmuring, 'you don't have to like me,' somewhere between breaths, but his hands gripping Beth's hips, telling her she's not allowed to leave him like this, just 'cause her mood tells her to take flight.

[devonpravesh]

ben hargreeves x reader, mentions of diego hargreeves x reader.

series - the umbrella academy.

summary - in which ben watches his childhood girlfriend slowly fall in love with his brother, or so he thinks.

When Diego passed over the threshold of his late father’s kitchen, he smiled to see you standing there, decorating Valentine cookies you baked every year.

What you didn’t know was that Ben was there, too. He was seated on the counter next to you as he looked down at you in admiration. He could watch the way your hands work for hours.

“Damn it,” They heard you mutter as you put one of the cookies in your mouth.

“Too hot?”

You jumped in suprise, turning around to see a now short haired Diego, making you smile. You nodded and fanned your mouth with your hand, trying to cool down the cookie in your mouth.

“Way too hot. Should’ve waited a bit more before my tastings.”

Ben’s smile turned into a frown as he looked between the two of you, a blush had already formed on your cheeks as Diego was checking you out in a not so subtle manner. No matter how much Ben wanted to find one, he had no reason to be as irritated as he was.

“They smell nice,” Diego commented, earning a grin from you. You shrugged, “Course they do. It’s the same recipe I used to bake with Grace and,” The pink flush returned to your cheeks as you thought about the late teenage boy you used to do this with, “Ben.”

Ben’s smile returned as he noticed the sparkle in your eyes upon saying his name. He knew you missed him dearly, but what you didn’t know was that he had been guarding over you.

Diego shrugged, taking one of the way too hot cookies in his hand, “You and Ben took this whole Valentine thing pretty serious for a bunch of teenagers.”

You could feel your face get even hotter than before, so you adverted your gaze, a shrug passing through your shoulders.

“Yeah. February 14, 1999 was the first time I met Ben. And then a year later he,” You took a shaky breath, collecting your head as you thought back to that day, “He asked me to be his girlfriend.”

Ben himself stood there, smiling at the memories. He remembered the way you would tuck your hair behind your ear whenever you got nervous, which usually was whenever you were around him.

“I remember how happy he was when he came home that day. Usually he’d hold back something until Klaus forced it out of him but that day, I think he literally shouted it from the roof.”

You smiled, feeling the tips of your ears turn bright red, “I told mom about him the moment we met. I had never met someone like him. So, calm, shy, sweet and definitely super adorable! I possibly cannot imagine the handsome man he’d had turned into if he were,” You stopped yourself, not even wanting to think about the ‘what if’s.

Diego rubbed your shoulder gently, “Hey, it’s alright. I know how much this day means to you.”

You shook your head and smiled at him, “It does. It really does,” The smile he returned didn’t quite reach his eyes, “But I know that wasn’t what you wanted to talk about.”

He shook his head, “I just wanted to see you.”

‘Maybe I shouldn’t do this now,’ He thought to himself, knowning that this was yours and Ben’s day originally.

And exactly two years later on that exact same date, he was glad he hadn’t asked you out that day.

Ben stood behind you, his hands atop of yours as he helped you kneed the cookie dough. A comfortable silence filled the kitchen, until he decided to break it.

“Maybe we should’ve started on these a bit earlier on, babe?”

A chuckle escaped your mouth. You let go of the dough, and intertwined your own fingers with Ben’s. A content sigh escaped your mouth as you let your head softly fall back on his chest.

He placed a soft kiss on too of your head. A simple gesture that even after years of being together could make the butterflies in your tummy go crazy.

“Never underestimate a professional baker’s time management skills.”

This time, the chuckle escaped Ben’s mouth. The delicate noise filled your ears, and you felt overcome with emotions. To you, it was rather embarrassing how anything this man did held such a chokehold on you.

But really, could you be blamed for feeling that way? Ben had been taken from you way too early, for way too long, and you had promised each other that there wouldn’t even be a day apart in this second chance together that the two of you had gotten.

“I’m just saying . . . We might be late . . .”

You simply shrugged, holding one of Ben’s hands up to plant a kiss on it.

“It’s our wedding day. We’re allowed to be late.”

[pilothusband]

All Hail The King

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader

Warnings: Alcohol, oral sex, p in v sex, praise kink. I’m a horny bitch, okay? This is purely indulgent.

Word count: 5k

Author’s note: Special thanks to @wyn-dixie​ for reading this over before I posted it and for enabling this filth. ❤️ This idea entered my brain randomly and I had to write it out. Please let me know what you think! I want your feedback. If I had Photoshop I would have made an edit of Frankie with a crown for this but I don’t have it so here’s this gif instead.

The bar is humming with activity, but the table you’re nestled at in the back provides enough shelter to allow you all to converse without having to yell at each other.

You’ve been nursing a glass of water for a while now, since you’re the designated driver this week. It doesn’t bother you, though— you’re just happy to be out with your friends.

Every once in a while you steal a glance over at Frankie, who’s sitting diagonally across the table, next to Santiago who is directly across from you. Benny is to your left, his large body crowding you into the wall, and his brother Will is at the head of the table.

“Hey Fish,” Benny claps a hand on his shoulder. The force of his hand jostles Frankie’s solid body backwards a little, but to his credit he doesn’t flinch. “How are things with that girl you were seeing? Jennessa? Jennifer?”

You take a sip of your water and look down at the table to mask your interest at the sudden change in conversation.

“Jessica,” Frankie clears his throat. “They aren’t. We didn’t have much in common so she broke it off after a few dates.”

Queue the internal cheering. Jessica was a bit of a wet mop, to be honest. She never had anything to say when Frankie brought her around and she would scoff at everything that was slightly unsavory in her eyes. Deep down, you had to come to terms with the jealous twinge you felt in your gut every time she would squeeze Frankie’s shoulder affectionately, her immaculately manicured nails pressed harshly into his jacket.

“I’m sorry, Fish,” Benny said, slinging his arm around the man, the clumsy movement knocking his hat slightly askew. “Her loss, brother.”

“Here here,” Santi agrees, raising his bottle in the air. “To the king!”

Benny cheers clinks his bottle against Santiago’s echoing his sentiment. Will huffs out a laugh and Frankie groans, hiding his face in his hands.

You gape at the two men in question, but they just giggle like a couple of school girls.

“I didn’t realize I was in the presence of royalty,” you say, trying to figure out what they’re talking about. You look over at Frankie as he takes an impatient sip from his drink.

Benny just about spits out a mouthful of beer onto the table.

“Shut the fuck up, guys.” Frankie warns his friends. “Seriously.” Santi and Benny give him an innocent look. Will focuses his gaze on the bottle he’s holding, picking at the paper label, damp and curling at the edges from condensation .

Santiago leans towards you, his breath hot in your ear.

“We call him the pussy eating king.”

You thank the powers above you weren’t mid-sip, because the choked sound that emits from your throat was both involuntary and sudden. Heat blossoms in your stomach and your thighs clench together as you make eye contact with Frankie. He looks away nervously, embarrassed even. 

“So was this a self coronation or..” You trail off, grinning at the flush on Frankie’s cheeks.

“It was that really talkative chick he was seeing for a while,” Benny says, turning to you. “Brianna?”

“Brenda,” Frankie sighs.

“So Brenda crowned you the pussy eating king?” You ask Frankie, who still refuses to meet your eyes.

He grumbles in response, waving off the subject.

“Yeah, she went on about it in detail for the whole night one time. I think you were away for a work trip or something” Santiago is absolutely smirking, loving the way Frankie is physically shrinking under the group’s attention. “Come on Fish, don’t be so modest. You’re a beast in the sack, it’s a good thing!”

You smile, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. You remember why you weren’t there. It was because you couldn’t stand seeing Frankie so happy with another woman, so you feigned sick.

“Well, I can see why things with Brenda didn’t last,” you respond, knowing Frankie was kind of a private guy. “But hey, at least she can tell all her friends she got the royal treatment while it lasted.”

Benny, Santiago and even Will all roar with laughter, fists banging raucously on the table. Frankie huffs out an embarrassed laugh, despite himself.

“Yeah, yeah,” he takes a swig of his beer, emptying it. “I need another drink.”

“Hey Ben, what time is your fight next week again?” Will calls over to his brother. You’re grateful for the change of subject. Frankie’s had enough torture for one night and you aren’t sure how many more details about Frankie’s sexual prowess your nether regions can take.

Benny turns towards Will to talk about his upcoming match and you take a sip from your glass to try to hide how flustered you’re feeling. Did this bar get hot all of a sudden?

The glass lands back down with a dull thump and you look up to find Santiago studying you, his eyebrow raised.

“What?” You don’t mean to sound aggressive, but his gaze is unnerving, as if he’s trying to suss out something you’re hiding.

“Nothing, nothing at all.” He smirks and tips up his beer, taking a long gulp. You roll your eyes at him and look down to pick at your nails.

A few moments later, Frankie returns with a fresh beer and you can feel Santiago turning his face in your direction again to read your body language. You school your reaction, fingers digging painfully into your pint glass. Sometimes Pope is too fucking nosy for his own good.

He must lose interest after a moment though, because he turns his attention back to Benny, who’s still talking about his upcoming fight.

The topic doesn’t come up again, thankfully, and you’ve dropped all the boys off at their separate destinations, save for Frankie, who lives the closest to you.

The car ride alone with him isn’t as tense as you were expecting, since his tongue has been loosened with the fair amount of alcohol he’s had tonight. You both chat easily about the upcoming week and how much you’re dreading going back to work on Monday.

You can’t resist one smart remark though, as you pull up to Frankie’s house.

“Your castle awaits, my liege,” you quip, trying and failing to hide your amused smile as you look over at him.

Frankie throws his head back and laughs freely, opening the car door with a wink.

“Goodnight, my queen,” he bows exaggeratedly before shutting the car door.

The butterflies don’t tamp down until you’re securely inside your own apartment, locking the door behind you.

That night was a month ago, which means it’s been a whole fucking month since your brain flew the coop. Every time Frankie does just about anything with his mouth, everything else around you ceases to exist.

Take last Thursday, for example. Frankie dropped by after work to help you change your porch light, since the fixture is too heavy and the light is too high up to easily reach.

He steps up the ladder with ease, unscrewing the fixture and holding it with his left hand. He puts the screwdriver in his mouth so he can hold onto the ladder as he gingerly hands you the fixture. You grab onto it and hand him the replacement bulb so he can swap them out.

He gets the lightbulb in and gestures towards you to hand the fixture back, which he screws back in before stepping down.

“Blegh,” he wipes his mouth on his sleeve, an action that has your last two brain cells screeching to a halt. “Screwdrivers taste awful.” 

His statement is cute, self-deprecating, and you try to respond appropriately but all you can do is gape at him like a fish out of water.

‘Get your shit together, he’s wiping off the taste of rust, not your pussy,’ you try to mentally shake yourself out of your stupor, but it does no good.

He turns back towards his toolbox to drop the screwdriver in and close the lid.

“All set,” he says, dusting off his jeans. He sounds a little uneasy, probably because you’re acting like a complete weirdo.

“Thank you so much, Frankie. I really appreciate it.” You find your manners and pull him in for a hug, secretly reveling in how good he smells.

“Any time,” he tells you as he wraps his arms around you and squeezes softly.

Before he pulls away you make a spur of the moment decision, and reach up to give him a small kiss on the cheek. He’s so impossibly warm and so inviting, you can feel your heart flutter in your chest. The sparse hairs on his face tickle your chin. 

Frankie clears his throat and ducks his head down, mumbling a hurried goodbye before he heads back to his truck, toolbox in hand. You don’t miss the way his lips are turned up and the crows feet make an appearance in the corner of his eyes, nor do you miss the brilliant flush that spreads over his face and down his neck.

It’s Saturday now and your torment knows no end. You decide you’re too tired to go out and opt to invite the guys over for a movie night, to which they all agree. 

You decide you’ll just have to look away every time Frankie takes a sip of a drink, or eats a handful of popcorn. Or God forbid, if he licks his lips.

The group chat has been a nightmare, with everyone trying to come up with a movie to watch. Benny wants to watch The Expendables, Will mentioned something about wanting to see Dunkirk for ages now and Santi is playing devil’s advocate, disagreeing with all of their choices but not coming up with one of his own.

Frankie has been quiet in the chat, besides initially agreeing to come over initially.

It’s 9:00 PM, you have a 30 rack of beers in the fridge and some popcorn set out for everyone. All you have to do now is wait for the guys to arrive. Your phone chimes with a notification from Benny.

Benny and the Jets 🥊: Sorry lady, I got called in for a last minute practice. Raincheck?

Ironhead 🦸🏼: I gotta duck out too. The lady wants to have a date night. Sorry!

You type out a reply to them, a little disappointed but bidding them a good night all the same.

A knock sounds on the door and you rush over to answer it. The door swings open to reveal Frankie, wearing the softest looking navy blue hoodie you’ve ever seen, along with his Standard Oil cap. He looks as unsure as ever, holding a bottle of red wine.

You chirp an over-enthusiastic greeting, internally cringe at it, and step aside to welcome him in.

“I know you like red wine, so I got some for you on the way here. I hope it’s the kind you like.”

You accept the wine and look at the label. It’s a California Zinfandel. You can’t believe he remembered your favorite wine.

“I love it, thank you so much.” You pull him into a hug, nuzzling into the soft material of his sweatshirt. He returns the hug just as enthusiastically, pulling away to kiss your forehead.

“Is Santiago on his way?” You ask, padding into the kitchen to grab a glass from your cabinet. “Do you want a glass? Or I have some beer if you’d prefer.”

“Beer is perfect, thanks,” he says a little breathily as he looks over at you. “Santiago said something came up and that he’s sorry.”

Something feels a little fishy with the three of them ducking out all at the same time, but you don’t mention it as you hand him a beer and search through your drawer for a bottle opener. A few minutes later, you’re both set up on the couch and are scrolling through Netflix for a movie.

“I have no idea what to watch. Do you?”

“Want to watch Civil War? I know the guys will bitch we’re continuing the rewatch without them but they can deal.”

You tip your head back and laugh, navigating over to your Disney+ app.

Frankie takes off his hat and sets it aside while you spread a blanket over your laps, braving a chance to scoot closer to him. He takes the hint and wraps his arm behind your shoulders, nestling you closer to his chest. You settle in and try to pay attention to the movie, despite the wild fluttering that is taking place in your stomach.

Frankie shifts uncomfortably and winces a little. You can tell he’s trying to hide it, but little does he know you’ve been watching every single movement he makes like a hawk. Or a nervous lap dog.

“Does your back hurt? I can move,” you start to get up but Frankie grabs onto your wrist and pulls you back in.

“No, stay. I just need to find a comfortable position.”

You make a soft noise of surprise when he lifts you up and pulls you towards him, settling back so he’s spread out on the couch. You’re settled on top of him, your legs stretched out over his with your back to the cushion, half draped over his torso.

This position has your heart thumping hard in your chest. His face was just a few inches from yours. All he’d have to do is tilt his face towards yours, and you’d be practically kissing.

Focusing on the movie is harder than ever. Your left hand rests on Frankie’s chest and your right is near his head. Without even thinking, you reach out and start stroking your fingers through his soft curls. He hums contentedly, the pleasant sound rumbling through his chest.

A hand makes its way up your arm leaving goosebumps in its wake, landing on your shoulder.

You brave a glance at Frankie and feel your heart stutter in your chest when you realize he’s been looking at you. His eyes are as dark as ever, twinkling against the flicker of your TV.

He closes the gap and captures your lips in a tender kiss. His lips are warm and soft, melding to yours perfectly. The brush of your mouths together is intoxicating. Your tongue darts out to lick at him and he complies, letting out a guttural moan at the sensation as your tongues meet languidly.

You shift your leg so it slots between his and both of your hands find his shoulders and squeeze them, eliciting a soft mewl from Frankie’s mouth. His hands are hot on your back and he slides one down to your ass, kneading the soft flesh over your leggings.

Your hips press into his, rutting into him, soft pants falling from your mouth– mingling with his. You need to be closer, closer, closer. He tightens his grip on your ass in response and rolls his hips so you can feel how hard he is against your belly.

“Fuck, baby,” he rasps, breaking the kiss, words tumbling out between his ragged breaths. 

You can feel yourself throbbing for him, wetness rushing to your core as his hushed baritone makes your head spin with need. Somewhere in the back of your mind you’re convinced this is a dream. That there’s no way you’re dry humping the man of your dreams on your couch right now.

You duck down to hide your expression, not wanting to ruin the moment with your anxiety and doubt. You’ll take whatever this man gives you, even if it’s just this moment. 

You busy yourself by peppering small kisses on his neck, trailing them up to his jaw.

“Hey,” he slows your movements and holds your chin with his thumb and forefinger, tilting your face up gently up to look at him.

“I want you. I want this. Do you?” 

You feel the urge to look away, his gaze is intense and laser-focused on you. Eye contact has never been your strong suit, so this was a lot for you to handle. But you fight the urge to flinch and stare back, searching to see if there was anything that will give away any trepidations. His expression remains hard set, serious but not unkind. It’s just like Frankie to have eyes as clear as day, giving away all of his secrets. They’re just like him— strong, unrelenting in their hardness and softness.

“Yes,” you reply. Your voice cracks a little, thick with emotion. “I’ve wanted this, wanted you, for so long.” 

You feel embarrassment wash over you with the admission, but Frankie doesn’t let it last long before you crushes his lips to yours in a searing kiss. He breaks it off after a moment, lips swollen and pink.

“Baby, you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to hear you say that.”

He strokes a hand down your jaw, his thumb caressing your skin as a goofy smile blooms over your face.

“I want to make you feel good, baby,” he whispers, his thumb catching on the swell of your bottom lip. “Will you let me make you feel good?”

You blink and swallow heavily, a fresh wave of arousal flooding to your center as the deep rasp of his voice utters those words, smooth as caramel– dousing over you like kerosene on a fire.

You nod, not trusting your voice at this very moment.

“I need you to say it out loud, honey,” he says, his lips brushing against yours ever so lightly.

“Yes, Francisco,” you breathe out. “Make me feel good.”

He bites your bottom lip and tugs, then growls playfully before he grabs your shoulders and flips you over. You let out a delighted shriek, giggling as he lifts up the hem of your shirt and kisses every inch of skin that’s revealed.

“Wait,” you call out. He stops his movements immediately. “You first.”

Frankie grins. You want to press your fingers into the dimple that appears and feel the scratch of his beard under your nails. He leans back and lifts his sweatshirt over his head, the grey t-shirt he’s wearing sticks to the inside of it and he rolls both garments down his arms. 

His chest is bare to you now, smooth except for a smattering of hairs in the middle of his chest, and a patch leading down into his jeans. You want to reach out and run your hands down the planes of his torso and follow the path of hair,  but your arms aren’t long enough to reach. 

You remove your shirt, leaving you in your leggings and bra. It’s a soft lace number, a delicate pink with no underwire. You watch as his hungry gaze roams over your chest. To your surprise, he doesn’t motion for you to take it off. Instead, he leans over you, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

 He moves downwards, tongue darting out to taste the salt of your neck. He continues his path and mouths between your breasts, one of his hands reaches out to squeeze the plump flesh in his large hand. You nipple instantly pebbles under his ministrations and he pulls the fabric aside to tease it with the pad of his finger. You moan softly at the sensation and yelp in surprise when he sucks it into his mouth and bites it, soothing the sharp sting with a flick of his tongue.

 “Mmm, love how responsive you are already,” he hums, moving down. Your back arches as his mouth makes a hot trail down the rest of your torso. You look down and notice he’s left wet patches where his mouth has been, coating you in saliva and leaving goosebumps in his wake.

 He reaches the waistband of your leggings and pushes them down, letting out a strangled groan when he gets an eyeful of your panties, the same shade of pink that matches the bra you’re wearing. 

“So fucking sexy,” he breathes.

He peels your panties down your legs and pulls them off along with your leggings, leaving you completely bare from the bottom down. You start to cross your legs to hide yourself, feeling self-conscious at how exposed you are, but Frankie grabs your thigh to halt the movement.

“You better not hide this pretty pussy from me,” he says, licking his lips.

You half expect him to dive in, but he takes a moment to look at you. He’s resting a hand on your hip. His pointer finger makes a path down, tracing an invisible line up and down your slit. You hiss at the ghost of his touch and thrust your hips towards his hand, seeking out more friction.

Frankie lets out an amused chuckle at your reaction and leans forward to plant a wet kiss to your inner thigh. You let out a shaky breath in anticipation– your heart feels like it’s beating out of your chest. He kisses up your thigh until he reaches the apex between your legs, then licks a stripe through your folds with the flat of his tongue, pulling a surprised gasp from your parted lips.

He sucks your clit into his mouth and you can’t help it– you buck up into his mouth and grab onto his hair and tug at the strands. He grabs onto the flesh of your hip and whimpers into your pussy. Despite being almost dizzy with need, you feel a rush of power knowing you have this effect on him.

“You taste so fucking good. So wet for me,” he punctuates his words with bold licks up and down. “Never want to stop.”

He changes patterns, making tight circles on your clit with his tongue. The sudden switch has you mewling and your legs clamp around his head involuntarily. Frankie grabs your thighs and wrenches them apart, hooking them over his shoulders as he latches onto your pussy. His hands are on your ass, holding you up as your back arches off the couch.

All you can do is scramble at the cushions below you for purchase as Frankie buries his face into your cunt, lapping at you with abandon. His tongue licks into you with an intensity you’ve never experienced before; it has you seeing stars.

You have no idea how he knows exactly how to manipulate your body to pull the pleasure from you so naturally. Every lick feels like it’s searching for treasure, every suck hits somewhere deep inside, reverberating through the muscles of your thighs and up in your abdomen.

He gently places you back down to the cushions and rubs at your entrance with his pointer finger, looking up at you for permission.

“Yes, please–“ you whimper brokenly. He complies immediately and plunges it into you, following with a second finger, and curls them up. His pace is slow at first and he flicks his tongue out to play with your clit at the same time. He’s soon spurred on by your moans and sets a brutal pace. You once again feel the urge to clamp around him to increase the pressure, but Frankie uses his broad shoulders to hold your thighs apart.

 Seeing his shoulders, bare and perspiring from his intensive movements, so wide and flushed, coupled with the furrow of his brow, his eyes pinched closed, makes something primal within you awaken. You barely have time to feel your orgasm coming before it’s hitting you– thighs shaking, back arching, hands in his hair. You don’t even realize it, but you;’re shrieking his name, chanting it like a prayer. He’s groaning in reply, milking you through it with his fingers and tongue, lapping up your release, syrupy sweet and indulgent.

 He doesn’t stop until you’re flinching from overstimulation. He kisses up your body lazily, taking his time before capturing your lips. You kiss him back, licking into his mouth and tasting yourself on his tongue. He grinds into you, his jean-clad erection rubs against your aching cunt and rekindles the fire, molten heat shooting through your entire body.

 “Wanna fuck you so bad, baby,” he says, panting the words into your mouth.

 You moan and break the kiss.

 “Want to take this to my room?”

 He doesn’t reply, but instead swings his body off the couch and picks you up bridal-style. He stumbles a little with the first steps and you both laugh, kissing each other with each step he takes towards your bedroom.

He tosses you onto the bed softly and you let loose another delighted giggle when Frankie flops over you dramatically, caging you in his arms. Your tongues tangle together in an impossibly sensual kiss. He’s momentarily distracted, caught up in the feel of your body underneath his with the soft touches of your tongue, and you take the opportunity to roll him over and straddle his hips.

Frankie is looking up at you as if he’s in awe, like he can’t believe you’re here right now, naked from the waist down and grinding down on his hard cock, tenting his jeans.

You move down his body and zip his fly down, pushing down the denim along with his boxer briefs. His cock springs free, hard and hot and leaking at the tip. You can’t help but lick the bead of precum, and a broken whine rips from Frankie’s throat. His hands are clenched into the sheets, knuckles white with how hard he’s gripping the mattress beneath him.

You’re bobbing your mouth up and down his length, tongue licking around his shaft and cheeks hollowing out. His moans are loud, constant. He’s babbling praise, telling you how fucking amazing your mouth feels, how badly he wants to fuck you. It’s a heady feeling, bringing a strong and quiet man to his knees like this. You love that he’s letting you know how much he’s breaking for you.

Your tongue finds its way down to his balls and you suck them into your mouth, moaning at the musky taste. His moans are high pitched now and his hand is squeezing your shoulder.

“Baby, you gotta stop,” he grabs onto your hair to pause your movements. “I need to feel you.”

You give him one last broad lick up his shaft and shift back up, and look down at Frankie to catalogue the number you’ve done on him. He’s absolutely wrecked– brown eyes blown wide, chest rising and falling rapidly with his uneven breaths.

 You remove your bra, stretching it over your head and throwing it to the side. Frankie follows the movement and lets out a needy, staccato moan at the sight of you, completely bare before him.

 You reach down and kiss him soundly on the mouth, lining his cock up with your entrance.

 “I’ve got you, baby boy,” you coo, sinking down on his length.

 “Fuck,” he grits out between his teeth.

 You give yourself a moment to get used to his size and rock into him. His hands fly up to your chest, squeezing lightly and rolling your nipples in between his fingers.

 “So fucking big,” you pant out. “So good for me.”

 It seems Frankie loves praise as much as you do, evidenced by the twitch of his cock inside you.

 Your pace is agonizingly slow. You’re trying to tease out the moment, stretch it out so it lasts forever. It doesn’t last long– you can’t stand it anymore. You bounce up and down on him, snapping your hips when they meet his.

 “So fucking perfect,” he pants out. “Wanna fuck you from behind.”

 You breathe out a moan and stop your movements. Frankie mistakes your pause for hesitation and reaches up to brush the hair out of your face.

 “We don’t have to,” he says, voice gentle, brow furrowed in concern. 

 “No, fuck. No, Frankie. I want to.”

 You gingerly get up and whimper at the loss when he’s no longer inside you. Frankie sits up, shoulders rocking forward and cock bobbing with his movement as he settles onto his knees. You watch him and bite your lip, getting on all fours and lifting your ass up in the air to present yourself to him.

 Frankie can’t help the groan that falls from his lips and sinks forward to lay an open-mouthed kiss on your pussy from behind before he lines himself up. He enters you without hesitation, hips slapping against your ass rhythmically, setting a decisively fast pace. 

 All you can hear is the filthy sounds of your wet pussy as he pounds into you, along with your strangled moans, and his heavy breathing, laced with whispers of praise you can’t discern. The waves of pleasure are too much, too strong. You can feel the familiar build up of an orgasm. Your head is in the clouds as it climbs and climbs– then crashes.

 His fingers on your clit is what does you in. Your whole body shakes and all you can do is whimper and moan around his cock while he fucks into you. The strong, practiced rock of his hips become sloppy as he chases his release, muttering words of adoration into the air as he pulls out and cums, spilling onto your back. He pulls every last drop out of his cock before collapsing over you, forehead resting on your spine as he catches his breath.

 “Fuck, baby,” he says, once he’s caught his breath. “Should have done this ages ago.”

 You both laugh and Frankie gets up to grab a wet face towel from the bathroom

A little while later, you’re both in bed, blissed out and wrapped up around each other. The movie, drinks and snacks are all forgotten. All that matters is here and now– your breaths mingling together as you kiss each other lazily, tongues probing slowly. 

In the other room, both of your phones ping on the coffee table with unheard notifications.

The first text is from Santiago.The other boys follow suit, not a minute apart.

Pope 🤦🏻‍♂️: 👑

Benny and the Jets 🥊: 👑

Ironhead 🦸🏼: 👑

Neither of you see the texts until the next morning.

 The following weekend, it’s Santiago’s turn to be the designated driver. He’s parked outside of Frankie’s house, waiting to pick both of your asses up. He starts to tap his fingers impatiently against the steering wheel after the first 15 minutes. 

“What the fuck are they doing in there?” He asks Will and Benny. They all know the answer, but don’t say anything.

Meanwhile, Frankie has you crowded against the front door, your sundress is hiked up and his face is buried in your pussy. Neither of you can hear the sound of Santi’s impatient honking over your moans.

And if you end up going to the bar sans panties because you can’t find them before Santiago is pounding his fist on the door, well that’s just a secret you and Frankie will have to keep.

Taglist: @tenderclio @softdin @darnitdraco @freeshavocadoooo @recklessworry @wyn-dixie @manalg14 @codenamewife @comphersjost @princessxkenobi @manalg14 @comphersjost @a-skov @sheresh0y @greeneyedblondie44 @blackmarketmummy @brandyllyn @gracie7209 @bootyliciousbilbo @dobbyjen

[dontbipanicjonsa]

A confusing clusterfuck of thoughts re: Jonsa

Or: why the fuck are Jon and Sansa so compatible if they're not canon, huh?

He saw the Wall shining like blue crystal, and his bastard brother Jon sleeping alone in a cold bed, his skin growing pale and hard as the memory of all warmth fled from him. - Bran III AGOT

So....Jon is going to lose memory of all warmth? I'm going to separate the changes brought about in post-resurrection!Jon here as changes caused by death and changes caused by Ghost. This post is only speculating about the changes caused by death i.e. loss of memory of all warmth.

More foreshadowing for that-

Chunks of coal burned in iron braziers at either end of the long room, but Jon found himself shivering. The chill was always with him here. In a few years he would forget what it felt like to be warm. - Jon III AGOT

"It was. The fort is in a sorry state, admittedly. You will restore it as best you can..." ... You'll sleep on stone, too exhausted to complain or plot, and soon you'll forget what it was like to be warm, but you might remember what it was to be a man. - Jon II ADWD

So, I did a word search for warm and memory and I found some interesting stuff. Read under the cut.

1. Home

Jon- warmth and memory of home

The memory of her laughter warmed him on the long ride north. - Jon II AGOT (thinking about Arya)

The weariness came on him suddenly... So cold, he thought, remembering the warm halls of Winterfell, where the hot waters ran through the walls like blood through a man's body. There was scant warmth to be found in Castle Black... - Jon III AGOT

...Iron Emmett was still urging on his charges in the yard. The song of steel on steel woke a hunger in Jon. It reminded him of warmer, simpler days, when he had been a boy at Winterfell matching blades with Robb under the watchful eye of Ser Rodrik Cassel. Ser Rodrik too had fallen, slain by Theon Turncloak... All my memories are poisoned. - Jon VI ADWD

The warmth took some of the ache from his muscles and made him think of Winterfell's muddy pools, steaming and bubbling in the godswood. Winterfell, he thought. Theon left it burned and broken, but I could restore it.-Jon XII ASOS

So, these are the memories of warmth he'll lose? This warmth, that he associates with Winterfell (and the Starks), is the first memory of warmth Jon has.

Dany- memory of home

The door loomed before her, the red door, so close, so close, the hall was a blur around her, the cold receding behind... and all that lived and breathed fled in terror from the shadow of her wings. She could smell home, she could see it, there, just beyond that door, green fields and great stone houses and arms to keep her warm, there. She threw open the door.

"… the dragon …" - Daenerys IX AGOT

Home? The word made her feel sad. Ser Jorah had his Bear Island, but what was home to her? A few tales, names recited as solemnly as the words of a prayer, the fading memory of a red door … was Vaes Dothrak to be her home forever? - Daenerys VI AGOT

..."What shall we talk of?"

"Home," said Dany. "Naath. Butterflies and brothers. Tell me of the things that make you happy, the things that make you giggle, all your sweetest memories. Remind me that there is still good in the world."

Missandei did her best. She was still talking when Dany finally fell to sleep, to dream queer, half-formed dreams of smoke and fire. - Daenerys VIII ADWD

Dany's idea of 'home' changes over the course of the books. In the beginning she uses home for Illyrio's house, or the house with the red door. She very clearly doesn't think of Westeros as her home. After Viserys's death however, there's a sudden shift. Now, Westeros is her long lost home that she must return to someday. It's jarring. Interestingly enough, she pretty clearly rejects the idea of Dothraki khalasars as home, and the only time she calls Meereen home is in her last chapter of ADWD where she's trying to convince herself to return there. But we know that she ultimately rejects that too, in the same chapter.

Sansa- memory of home

Snow was falling on the Eyrie.

Outside the flakes drifted down as soft and silent as memory. Was this what woke me? Already the snowfall lay thick... The sight took Sansa back to cold nights long ago, in the long summer of her childhood. - Sansa VII ASOS

Last of all came the Royces, Lord Nestor and Bronze Yohn... Though his hair was grey and his face lined, Lord Yohn still looked as though he could break most younger men like twigs in those huge gnarled hands. His seamed and solemn face brought back all of Sansa's memories of his time at Winterfell. - Alayne I AFFC

She missed Septa Mordane, and even more Jeyne Poole, her truest friend... She tried not to think of them too often, yet sometimes the memories came unbidden, and then it was hard to hold back the tears. Once in a while, Sansa even missed her sister. By now Arya was safe back in Winterfell... - Sansa II ACOK

Arya coz why not

"Let me tell you something about wolves, child. When the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives. Summer is the time for squabbles. In winter, we must protect one another, keep each other warm, share our strengths.… Sansa is your sister. You may be as different as the sun and the moon, but the same blood flows through both your hearts. You need her, as she needs you …" - Arya II AGOT

Needle was Robb and Bran and Rickon, her mother and her father, even Sansa. Needle was Winterfell's grey walls, and the laughter of its people. Needle was the summer snows, Old Nan's stories, the heart tree with its red leaves and scary face, the warm earthy smell of the glass gardens, the sound of the north wind rattling the shutters of her room. Needle was Jon Snow's smile. He used to mess my hair and call me "little sister," she remembered, and suddenly there were tears in her eyes. - Arya II AFFC

Again, all this (and much more) is stuff that reminds Sansa (and Arya) of home. This is, presumably, shit that Jon is gonna forget. Or maybe he'll retain the memories and only lose the emotions (warmth) associated with it?

2. Suitors or romantic/sexual partners (+Ben Plumm)

Jon

Many a night he lay with Ygritte warm beside him,... - Jon V ASOS

So, Ygritte becomes his second memory of warmth.

When he turned he saw Ygritte.

...cloaked in darkness and in memory. The light of the moon was in her hair, her red hair kissed by fire. When he saw that, Jon's heart leapt into his mouth. "Ygritte," he said.

"Lord Snow." The voice was Melisandre's.

Surprise made him recoil from her. "Lady Melisandre." He took a step backwards. "I mistook you for someone else." At night all robes are grey. - Jon VI ADWD

AT NIGHT ALL ROBES ARE GREY...yea I know, this is a well established connection between the Girl in Grey and Ygritte. Since Jon associates Ygritte with warmth so strongly, I think it's safe to assume that the Girl in Grey might play a role in warming him too (hehe).

… one hears queer talk of dragons."

"Would that we had one here. A dragon might warm things up a bit."

"My lord jests. You will forgive me if I do not laugh. We Braavosi are descended from those who fled Valyria and the wroth of its dragonlords. We do not jape of dragons." - Jon IX ADWD

Yikes.

Dany

"If my queen commands," he (Jorah) said, curt and cold.

Dany was warm enough for both of them. "She does," she said. "She commands...

When he was gone, Dany threw herself down on her pillows beside her dragons. She had not meant to be so sharp with Ser Jorah, but his endless suspicion had finally woken her dragon. - Daenerys IV ASOS

So, here the warmth is because of anger (woken the dragon).

Dany could feel the warmth of his fingers. He was warm in Qarth as well, she recalled, until the day he had no more use for me. She rose to her feet. "Come," she said, and Xaro followed her through the pillars... - Daenerys III ADWD

She remembered Ben's face the last time she had seen it. It was a warm face, a face I trusted... Even the dragons had been fond of old Brown Ben, who liked to boast that he had a drop of dragon blood himself. Three treasons will you know. Once for gold and once for blood and once for love. Was Plumm the third treason, or the second? And what did that make Ser Jorah, her gruff old bear? Would she never have a friend that she could trust?- Daenerys VI ADWD

This is twice that Dany associates warmth with people who use/betray her.

"You're hurt," she gasped.

"This?" Daario touched his temple. "A crossbowman tried to put a quarrel through my eye, but I outrode it. I was hurrying home to my queen, to bask in the warmth of her smile." He shook his sleeve, spattering red droplets. - Daenerys VI ADWD

Dawn always came too soon.

...If only she had the power, she would have made their nights go on forever, but the best that she could do was stay awake to try and savor every last sweet moment before daybreak turned them into no more than fading memories....

Dany wrapped her arms around her captain and pressed herself against his back. She drank in the scent of him, savoring the warmth of his flesh, the feel of his skin against her own. Remember, she told herself. Remember how he felt. - Daenerys VII ADWD

Ok, I forgot how smitten Dany was with Daario. It would be cute if Daario wasn't so horrifying. Girl has some seriously questionable taste.

Interestingly, the phrase 'fading memory' is used four times in the text (as far as I can find) and three of those times are in Daenerys's POV. One is in the above quote, where she's commanding herself to remember her time with Daario before her marriage to Hizdahr, and the other time is while thinking about the red door. Both these are memories that are important to her, that connect her to the hopeful/little/not-dark girl she once was.

Sansa

Gently, he spoke of Braavos, and met a wall of sullen courtesy as icy and unyielding as the Wall he had walked once in the north. - Tyrion VIII ASOS

"I am composing a new song, you should know. A song so sweet and sad it will melt even your frozen heart. 'The Roadside Rose,' I mean to call it. About a baseborn girl so beautiful she bewitched every man who laid eyes upon her." - Sansa VII ASOS

"Alayne." Her aunt's singer stood over her. "Sweet Alayne. I am Marillion. I saw you come in from the rain. The night is chill and wet. Let me warm you." - Sansa VI ASOS

You must be very cold. Let me warm you, Sansa. Take off those gloves, give me your hands." - Sansa VII ASOS

Yea no. Sansa has not had a good experience with people offering to warm her (unfreeze her? melt her?)

Looks like in TWOW there's going to be two people in desperate need of some warming.

It's pretty neat actually. Jon associates memories of warmth with two things primarily: Winterfell/the Starks, and Ygritte. Sansa is both a Stark, and a much (much) improved Ygritte.

Sansa's iciness-wall-armour is a form of protection that she employs against predatory men. The only person who can melt her frozen heart...is someone who is not predatory. Someone who cares for her. Jon.

It fits perfectly. They fit perfectly.

[kabira]

alienated.

pairing — ben 10!jaemin x reader ft. yuta and chaeyoung (blackpink) as kevin levin and gwen tennyson

word count — 5.5k

genres — ben 10 au, science fiction, action, fluff, a smidge of angst. like a teeny weeny bit

warnings — a couple of instances of profanity, slight, non-descriptive violence, aliens and their disgusting alien spit

summary — Losing your memory and being chased by evil extraterrestrails was not on the agenda. Neither was finding a boy with a killer smile and his alien-fighting alien watch, but life works out.

note — for alice day !! also i may or may not have been imagining ben throughout writing this (sorry jaemin) so if you see any uses of the names ben, gwen or kevin anywhere in the fic, please be a bro and give me a secret nudge in the right direction dsdaksjf. rough outline follows the plot of the episode Inside Man; everything else is mine.

you do not need to have watched ben 10 to read this. set during alien force.

go to main masterlist

You wake up on the cold floor of a jail cell.

When you open your eyes, the world is tilted at a dizzying angle, and it takes a few, confusing seconds for your pupils to adjust to the consuming darkness inside. Instead of getting to your feet, you take a moment to survey your surroundings. There’s a dull throb of an ache in your head, but despite your bleary eyes your vision is clear. It looks like a normal cell, bare of furniture with a grimy, undusted floor that’s cold under your cheek. There’s no sign of another presence, not even the humming of some small bug. So why are alarm bells going off in your brain?

Slowly, you get up, one hand against your hot forehead. Do I have a fever? A sharp stab of pain in your head seems to confirm your doubts as you right yourself, but something feels wrong. You don’t remember being sick before going to sleep. In fact, you don’t remember going to sleep at all, or even ending up in a jail cell. A horrible feeling wells up in the pit of your stomach. You don’t remember…anything.

Your heart lurches as you try to focus on different parts of the cell, trying to recall how you ended up here. The daze had felt like the languid confusion that comes after a long sleep, but that’s not it. The cracked mirror, the untouched bars of the cell, the sparse lighting outside that seems to come from a weak lightbulb… Your brow creases as another spike of pain pulsates through your head. Your mouth tastes normal, so not a hangover, either.

The details are fuzzy, but the blurry shapes of your thoughts are beginning to come together as memories. You had shown up at the police station to lodge a complaint, though you don’t quite remember how. Something about your story had been hard to believe for the sheriff, who had promptly had you locked up—you grit your teeth and bring both of your hands up to clutch your head, trying to remember. What had I been trying to say?

And then it comes to you, a flash of a memory like a lightning strike. You remember a construction area with no one manning the equipment, red metal, white flesh and wings like scaly butterflies. Aliens.

Your eyes fly open. It sounds too absurd to even consider, like a word written in an unknown language right in the middle of a paragraph. And yet the thousand years of primal experience, coiled up in your genes like a serpent, tells you it’s true. Or at least that you believe it’s true.

You’ve been running from something—aliens, apparently—but you don’t remember why.

Maybe because they’re aliens? you think, the mental tone dripping with sarcasm. However, you don’t get to chase that line of thought, because at that moment, the cell door swings open with a creak. Your head whips up when you hear the singular, heavy footstep, surprised you’d managed to miss it. Two cops stand right outside the cell, one short and gray-haired and the other slender and dark.

“Alright, kid,” the gray-haired cop says, swinging open the door. There’s something in his hand that’s obscured by the shadows, and his eyes are hidden behind the light reflecting off his glasses. “Last chance. Tell us where it is, and we’ll let you go.”

You stand up slowly on shaky legs, bewildered. The man’s words are cryptic enough not to make sense, but somehow you know what he’s talking about—you just don’t remember it. “Where what is?” you ask, as the warning bells in your head start pulsing like a second heartbeat. Something’s very wrong. You swallow and step back, careful not to look at the elongated, sharp-edged whatever-it-is in the man’s hand.

“Don’t play games with us,” the other one mutters, but the older man shakes his head. Something glints on the front of his shirt. Sheriff?

“Brain could be befuddled from the transition,” the sheriff says. Your heart goes ice-cold. He raises his hand, and you finally allow yourself to look at the weapon in his hand, a red-and-chrome contraption that’s a little bigger than a revolver, the shape much too reminiscent of a firing weapon. “Don’t worry. We’ll keep you here until you start to remember.”

That’s definitely not human. You eye the weapon, recalling the ridiculous laser guns from childhood shows about alien invaders. “Remember what?” you ask stupidly, as the memories seep back into your head. The plan of the police station, the place you’re at. A name. Los Soledad.

“The location of the hyperspace jumpgate key,” the younger, more irritable man says. If it is a man. “You know—the one you stole from us.”

You lunge at the sheriff, who is so surprised by your reaction that he doesn’t even have time to raise his weapon, which buys you a few precious seconds. Your body knocks into his, which in turn collides with that of the second man, sending all three of you flying backwards. The dark-haired cop’s hand catches at one of the bars of the cell, the force of the fall making the bar bend out of shape. Okay, definitely not human.

All three of you land on the floor, and you’re up first, kicking the fake sheriff in the face before running away. They call out behind you, a few garbled words in a language that barely sounds like a language, but you’ve got yourself just enough time to turn the corner and find the station.

The sheriff fires, and the beam misses you narrowly, hitting the wall instead, part of which crumbles from the force. Your panic spikes, adding speed to your sprint towards the exit. You have a headstart, yes, but only a few seconds of it. Maybe not even that—the aliens (yeah, definitely aliens) could be as fast as they are strong, and the chances of a human outrunning them are slim.

Sure enough, when you burst out of the door and into the parking lot, you’re only a couple of steps in when there’s a shout behind you. You dive to the side just in time to see the beam hit the sideview mirror of some poor guy’s car, blasting it to smithereens. Cursing, you get up and make a mad dash for the road, only to stop a few feet from it. Even if you make it to the road, then what? If you remember correctly, there’s a desert all around, and you can’t keep running forever.

As if on cue, a car appears out of nowhere, taking a sharp u-turn right in front of you and screeching to a stop. The back door swings open, and a young man leans out of the side, holding out a hand. “Get in,” he says.

You take a split second to consider your other options. Then, being fresh out of other options, you take his hand and let him pull you inside.

You’re barely in when the driver floors it, and the care takes off again. There’s an outraged roar from the sheriff loud enough to reach you inside the car, but you don’t dare look back, too afraid of what you might see.

As soon as the station is out of sight—which doesn’t take long, surprisingly—you collapse against the backseat, breathing hard as the adrenaline slowly pulls out of your system. The boy who’d pulled you in looks at you with raised eyebrows, more expectant than concerned, which makes a twinge of annoyance pass through you. There’s a dark-haired guy in the driver’s seat, and what little you can see of his face in the rearview mirror is set and hard. There’s another passenger, too, a red-haired girl in the shotgun seat, who’s looking back at you with a mixture of concern and pity.

There are a lot of things to consider: who these guys are, how they found you, and what they intend to do with you, but you let yourself catch your breath first, as they don’t seem to intend to do you any immediate harm. Then the brunet next to you clears his throat. “Well?”

You scowl at him. “Well, what?”

“You gonna tell us why those DNAliens were chasing you?” he asks. There’s something irritating about him, like one of those guys who expect the whole world to fall at their feet with a single smile. Not that you’d want to see that.

“You gonna tell me how you knew to find me?” you fire back.

“This.” The redheaded girl raises a circular metallic disc about the size of her palm, with a green hourglass shape in the middle set against a black surface. “Plumber badges track alien technology levels too high to be here on Earth. You saw those guns.”

“Laser Lances,” the black-haired driver corrects. He sounds exactly like you’d expected him to, like a highschool wannabe goth that hates everyone and drinks petroleum as an energy drink. “Run on ether point energy cells, level five alien tech. It picks up things like that, so Plumbers can apprehend illicit dealers. We didn’t really expect to find you there.”

He says you like you’re a particularly annoying problem he encountered in the middle of a math test. You narrow your eyes at the back of his seat. “This is the part where you tell me why a plumber would concern himself with extra-terrestrials.”

“Plumber,” the brunet next to you says, “with a capital P.” He looks at you curiously, and grins. “Inter-galactic law enforcement. We’re kind of like cadets in training. My name’s Jaemin. That’s my cousin, Chae, and her boyfriend—”

“He’s not my boyfriend!”

“I’m not her boyfriend!”

“—her not-boyfriend, Yuta,” Jaemin finishes. “Your turn.”

You hesitate, unsure whether to trust him. “And you guys are aliens.”

“Nope, pretty human,” Jaemin says. “Well, kinda.”

You raise an eyebrow, but he doesn’t elaborate. Neither do Chae and Yuta. Dejected, and a little exhausted now that you’re up, you look outside the window at the landscape as it passes you by. The sky is pitch-black except for the stars, the desert rising unseen out of the distance as you approach and fading into nothingness behind. It’s late, probably closer to morning than evening.

You tell Jaemin your name.

“And that’s about all I remember, too,” you murmur, massaging your wrist on which you’d fallen asleep. “Something about white-and-red aliens in a cavern, too, but nothing much. I was kind of hoping you guys would know more about that.”

“Didn’t those alien guys say something about what they wanted from you?” Jaemin asks, leaning closer to you. He’s surprisingly animated, all up in your personal space like an oblivious, excited pup. It’s like the very idea of being in danger thrills him. “In their obligatory villainous monologue? That’s usually how I get to stay in the evil-plan loop.”

“Jaemin,” Chae chides. “Give them some space. Not everyone’s used to dealing with alien crime syndicates on the daily.”

Jaemin shrugs and pulls back a little, but doesn’t really seem apologetic. “Anything?” he asks.

You realize you’d appreciated his body warmth now that he’s not almost squashed against you. The car is cold despite the closed windows. “There was something about a hyperspace jumpgate key…”

“Of course there was,” Yuta mutters darkly. “And I bet you have no idea where it is.”

“They wanted me to give it to them, but I don’t have it,” you answer, a little miffed at his reaction. “It’s not my fault I got kidnapped by aliens.”

“Do you remember anything else?” Chae asks kindly. She’s definitely your favorite so far, though you have no idea how she deals with a couple of boys, especially a couple of boys like these.

You shake your head, furrowing your brow. When you close your eyes, flashes of images pass through your mind, like fragmented memories. “They were…building something,” you say helplessly, aware of how vague that sounds. “I think they captured me.”

Not think. Know. You suddenly recall one of the tall white aliens with claw-like hands discovering you. A deep, grating voice saying, take the human to the xenocites.

“You can track their last location,” Yuta says suddenly, and you stare at the back of his head in confusion. Track the aliens? Then you realize he’s talking to Chae. “Use a piece of their cloth, and you can follow the trail of where they’d last been.”

Chae turns back to you and holds out your hand. “Jacket?”

You’re still confused, but shrug off the jacket nonetheless, handing it over. “You can track my movements?”

“From your mana, or energy source,” she explains, holding your jacket and closing her eyes. The jacket glows pink. Okay then. “Think of it like a trail of bread crumbs, except instead of bread, it’s energy.”

You shiver. Jaemin notices, and takes off his jacket, offering it to you. “You can wear mine.”

“Smells bad,” you mutter, but take it anyway, grateful for the warmth as you drape it over your shoulders, unwilling to actually wear it. “Won’t you be cold?”

He grins, a shit-eating grin that makes your eyes narrow and your stomach to backflips at the same time. “Nah.” His grin widens. “I’m part alien, remember?”

You give him a questioning look, but he simply smiles, not elaborating further. “Where?” Yuta’s throaty voice breaks into your little bubble of comfort, making you jump.

Chae doesn’t open her eyes. “Keep going straight.”

You look away from her and back to Jaemin, who, true to his word, doesn’t seem to be cold despite being in nothing but a short-sleeved black shirt. “So, what are DNAliens?” you ask half-heartedly, trying to strike up a conversation to avoid an awkward silence.

“Aliens,” he answers.

You give him a look.

“Well, they’re half xenocite and half any other species,” he clarifies. “They’re handy for use as a mindless army, and recently the Highbreeds have been using them to build a kind of portal between galaxies. Probably to take over Earth.” He pauses, and frowns thoughtfully. “It’s always Earth with these guys. We’re not even that great.”

Highbreeds. Must be the big white aliens you found. “And you…what? Stop them?” you ask, picking at the sleeve of his jacket. It’s ridiculously green, a shade close to lime, so neon that you expect it to glow in the dark.

“Yep.” He grins again, and you have to tamp down the urge to scowl in the face of how blinding it is. One corner of his mouth goes up before the first, so it looks lopsided before he completes the smile. Killer smile. That’s what it is. Is that how you kill those aliens? “I’m Earth’s greatest hero, supposedly, but I think it’s more of a galactic thing at least.”

“If you’re Earth’s greatest hero, how come I’ve never heard of you?” you ask, unable to suppress the smile that comes with.

He waves his hand. “You know, secret identity things. Like Batman,” he says, crossing his arms behind his head and leaning back. The smile hasn’t dimmed a bit. It’s definitely a popular guy smile, an everyone-loves-me smile, and oh my god stop thinking about his smile. “I’ve saved the universe like, a bajillion times.”

“Jaemin, shut up,” Chae murmurs.

“What? You of all people should know it’s true, cuz.” He shrugs. “Remember the time when we were ten and Vilgax—”

“Dude, shut up,” Yuta hisses, and you notice the edge of panic in his tone. The headlights of the car are turned off, leaving you doused in darkness.

“DNAliens,” Chae murmurs.

You press your face to the window, alarmed, and look outside. Yuta’s maneuvered the car behind a dune without you noticing, and right opposite it is a big red truck. Small, humanoid shadows move around the base like a cluster of ants, and you notice the strange shape of their heads, like octopus heads. It should be too dark to tell, but you see the color of their skin like olives, blotches of black on their taloned hands. Their heads look like exposed brains rimmed with purple, a single eye in the middle of their face, and a long line like a cleavage running from what you guess are their mouths to their abdomen, where it ends in a circle of what looks like uncovered alien guts.

“Oh,” you say in a small voice. “But those guys at the station, they looked human.”

“ID Masks,” Yuta says, apparently being something of an expert on alien technology. He’s turned off the engine too, and is looking outside, giving you a clear view of his surprisingly attractive profile. “They use them to hide their faces.”

“I think I remember that truck,” you say, taking a moment to observe the bright red paint job. “I drove it away from the aliens’ base.”

Chae cuts you a sideways glance, frowning. “I thought you said you were captured.”

You blink, struggling to remember what happened, but there’s a black space right in the middle of our memory. “I-I don’t remember what—”

There’s a crushing sound like something tearing, and all of you whip your heads to the side to see the DNAlien clawing through the hood of the car, apparently having sneaked up from behind.

“My ride!” Yuta cries in a strangled voice. “Oh, those alien sons of bitches are going to pay for this.”

He pushes open the door and touches the chassis of the car with his bare hand. Metal climbs up the surface of his skin, coating his entire body like a second skin. He runs at the DNAlien with a yell, punching him right in the middle of his alien gut and sending him flying. You look at Jaemin, who shrugs. “He does that.”

“Get out of the car, both of you,” Chae says, and you duly oblige. Jaemin circles around to your side as Yuta charges at the horde of aliens around the truck. “Oh, Yuta,” she sighs tiredly.

The nearest DNAlien turns to the three of you. Its mouth unfurls into tentacles, and you tense as it spits a ball of green acidic goop at you. You squeeze your eyes shut, shielding your body with Jaemin’s jacket, but it never connects. Slowly, you open your eyes to see a glowing pink glass wall before you, and Chae’s arms raised as if conjuring it. You glance at her, and she shrugs helplessly. “Mana magic,” she explains.

“You’re a witch?”

“Excuse you,” she mutters. “I’m an Anodite.”

“…which is a type of alien witch?”

“An alien species,” she corrects. “Anodites are energy beings which can manipulate mana, but humans who teach themselves magic can do it too. Uh, long story,” she says when she sees you open your mouth to further inquire about the uses of mana.

The wall flickers out, and she raises her arms, shooting pink ropes out of her hands to curl around the DNAlien’s body and slamming it repeatedly against the ground until it collapses. In the distance, another of the aliens finally smacks Yuta in the chest, sending him soaring through the air until he smacks into the dune and collapses, the metal shell receding from his body.

“Yuta!” Chae calls, running up to her not-boyfriend, and the DNAliens chitter malevolently, closing in. You back up, smacking into Jaemin, who’s turning the dial on his strange-looking watch, holographs flickering over the face.

“Your friends are getting pummeled, and you’re playing with your watch?” you hiss, watching half-awestruck and half-terrified as an alien rips into the back of the truck as if it was paper.

“Relax, I’ve got this,” Jaemin mutters. He clicks the dial again, making a vaguely dinosaur-like green hologram flash into view. “This is a job for—” he hits the raised dial with the palm of his hand— “Humungousaur!”

Your breath catches in your throat as the watch flashes green, vines shooting out of the watch and curling around his body at an alarming rate. They climb around his trunk and limbs, but instead of covering and choking him, they seem to become him—elongated limbs and face, the top of his head like flame.

“Swampfire?” Jaemin-but-not-Jaemin mutters, looking down at his body. His new voice is deepened and slightly distorted, but the tone is exactly like his. “Not funny, Omnitrix,” he says, seemingly addressing his watch, which has become a symbol on his chest not unlike the Plumber badge Chae had shown you before. “But I guess Swampfire will do.”

He raises his palms just as a couple of DNAliens swarm the two of you, and flames shoot out of his hands, scorching the earth and the aliens, who disperse with chittering cries of alarm.

“They’re getting away!” Chae calls back to you, pointing to the few aliens carrying a large, wicked looking machine out of the back of the truck. She raises her hands, throwing discs of energy at them, but other aliens disrupt her first, forcing her to turn away.

“I’ll get them!” Jaemin yells, blasting yet another alien out of the way as he runs in the direction of the escaping aliens, you hot on his heels.

“You’re an alien?” you gasp as you run, aghast but somehow not surprised.

“Told ya,” Jaemin—Swampfire—says with a shrug, tapping the Omnitrix symbol on his chest. “One of many, and this baby does all the tricks. Watch out!”

You’re too late to respond to the warning, and the DNAlien smacks you hard in the chest, sending you crashing against the truck. “No!” you hear Jaemin yell distantly as you collapse to the ground, black spots dancing in your vision.

You don’t know how long it takes for you to get your bearings back, during which you black out and fade back in a few times, as if your brain is confused whether or not to help you get up. When you finally open your eyes, however, the fight is over, the aliens gone. Jaemin is back to human form, leaning over you with a concerned look on his face.

“What happened?” you croak, getting to your feet. Bad idea. A wave of nausea rolls over you, and you groan, almost falling back on your butt.

Jaemin catches you, gently laying you to rest against the side of the truck. “They got away with it,” he replies, but his eyes flit over your face worriedly. “Are you okay?”

“I think so,” you answer, despite the woozy feeling you get every time you open your eyes. “A little dizzy, but otherwise fine. I don’t think I have a concussion.”

Jaemin glances up, exchanging a look with Yuta, who looks grim. “You should,” Yuta murmurs.

You frown. “Excuse me?”

“You got thrown twenty feet and smacked into a truck, but you don’t even have a concussion?” Yuta says, looking unapologetic. Chae stands at his shoulder, her lips pursed as she looks at you. “You should have broken a few ribs, at the very least. The human body isn’t built to withstand that kind of blunt force trauma.”

Unable to comprehend, you stare at him. “I—what do you—”

“You say you don’t remember anything from before being captured by the aliens, right?” he asks. Slowly and hesitantly, you nod. His lips thin. “That’s because your brain is recalibrating.”

You blink up at him, bewildered. “Recalibrating?” you ask, lost, then glance at Jaemin, as if he might be able to explain, but his expression is just as stony. “I don’t understand.”

Jaemin reaches out, touching the side of your face, and you stiffen, then relax. But he pulls back his hand a moment later, this time holding something oval and contoured.

“What’s that?” you ask, but there’s already dread pooling in the pit of your stomach, like ice on bundled nerves.

“An ID Mask,” Jaemin answers, his voice an octave lower. He raises a piece of the broken glass from the truck’s sideview mirror, and you stare into it, already terrified of what you might see.

The face of a DNAlien stares back.

“No,” you say softy. “It can’t be. I can’t—I’m not—”

“They sic xenocites on humans they find, to turn them into a part of their DNAlien army,” Chae says, gently and sadly. “The genetic code overrides their brains and all other bodily functions, turning them faster, stronger, but brainwashed. I’ve never seen a human last as long as you without being wiped clean.”

You raise your clawed hands and stare at them. Three digits instead of five. They’re trying to be nice, break the news gently, but it doesn’t stop the wave of rage and anguish that washes over you. A monster wearing my skin, you think, shuddering in revulsion, wishing you could tear your own skin off.

“Tell me you can fix this,” you whisper.

Jaemin bites his lip. “Well, not yet,” he says. “There’s something that could, but the DNAliens have already gotten away, and I need their gene code to do anything.”

“And they could be anywhere,” you growl.

No one speaks for a moment. Then Chae raises something, a Laser Lance like the ones the aliens in the station had, with a small smile on her face. “But they did leave something behind.”

It takes a moment for it to click. “You can track their mana,” you realize.

Yuta kneels, touching a rock, the surface slowly papering his skin. He smirks, pounding his fists together.

Jaemin turns to you with a smile, handing you the ID Mask. “You know what they say,” he says as you put it back on, slipping into the guide of being human. “Where there’s a hyperspace jumpgate key, there’s a hyperspace jumpgate.”

There is no hyperspace jumpgate.

It’s a little disappointing, but you hadn’t really counted on it, having learned not to fully trust Jaemin’s one-liners despite the little time you had known him. However, you had found the DNAliens with a little help from their mana (which you now appreciated much more), and stood on a little hillside above them, watching their procession move along at a leisurely pace.

“Slow, aren’t they?” Chae asked, observing the aliens with the serene air of someone who knew they didn’t have to work hard to get what they wanted. “We got here before them, and they had a good twenty minutes on us.”

“Don’t pick on them, they were carrying alien tech weighing about a ton,” Jaemin says uncaringly. “And they didn’t have Jetray on their side.” This time, you know what Jetray is, one of his winged aliens out of the few his watch, the level 20 piece of alien peacekeeping technology called the Omnitrix, has on its playlist. You’re still not sure why someone would give the device to a smug, hyperactive teenager, but you’re willing to trust the aliens on that one.

“I’m bored,” Yuta mutters, still encased in stone like a moving sculpture. “Let’s get them.” And he slides down the side towards the DNAliens.

Chae gives you and Jaemin an exasperated look as if to say, what a dumbass, before following.

Jaemin gives you what is supposed to be a reassuring smile, which doesn’t work very well, at least until you see the warm sparkle in his eyes. “Ready?” he asks.

“Probably not,” you answer.

“Great.” He turns the dial on the Omnitrix, and hits the face. You shield your eyes from the bright green glow, and when you lower it, he’s transformed into the dinosaur-like alien you’d glimpsed in the hologram before. “Hold on to me.”

You secure your arms around his neck, and he skids down the cliffside, joining Chae and Yuta in beating up the aliens like before, except this time, you go with him. The ID Mask helps you look human, but the anger at being converted into Alien Lite helps your already enhanced strength as you punch, kick, and basically pound the aliens—but not spit. No gooey spit, too disgusting.

Humungousaur picks up the last two DNAliens and smashes them together, instantly knocking them out. Out of breath but unscathed, you walk up to the group as Jaemin powers down, and activates the Omnitrix again.

Uncatalogued DNA detected, a robotic voice from the watch says, and Jaemin raises it, pointing it towards the fallen body of the DNAlien. He faces you with a playful smile, like a kid excited to show a friend a high score. “Watch.”

He presses down on the face of the watch, and the prime symbol lights up yellow. A beam shoots out of it, scanning the body of the DNAlien. Unknown DNA sample acquired. Scan complete.

You raise your eyebrows as Jaemin takes both of your hands in his, still grinning his self-satisfied grin. “Do you trust me?” he asks.

“Why so dramatic?” you fire back, unable to help a grin of your own.

His smile brightens. “Omnitrix,” he says, and the watch activates, listening to his command. “Repair genetic damage.”

The watch glows green, filling up your vision completely, and you let out an involuntary gasp. The time in between takes up seconds and years, the air still burning like green fire, and when you finally manage to blink away the remnants of the light, nothing has changed. Jaemin’s still standing before you, your hands holding on to his in a death grip. Oh, and the one-eyed, tentacled brain alien wrapped around his wrist.

You yelp, dropping his hands and backing up so quick that you almost trip over your own feet. Jaemin makes a disgusted face, prying the thing away from his hand and dropping it onto the ground before trapping it underneath his foot. “Yeah, still need to work on what to do with that,” he says, still looking repulsed.

You stare at the thing with a curled upper lip, somewhat transfixed. “That’s a xenocite?” you ask. It’s about the size of your hand, with all your fingers splayed out.

“Yep,” Yuta mutters, kicking away a small rock as he makes his way over. Chae scrunches up her nose, standing arms akimbo next to him.

“And you’re a human,” Jaemin says, smiling so excitedly you’d think it was him turning back. “Do I get a cheek kiss for that?”

“You didn’t even do anything.” You cock an eyebrow. “That was all your watch.”

“Yeah, but I was the one who told it what to do.”

You give him a funny look, but don’t chase the argument. “Now what?”

“I can fix my car, but it’ll take a while,” Yuta says, looking absolutely miserable about the fate of his car. “And the signal out here is crap, unless you want to call a Plumber.”

“I’ll pass,” Jaemin muttered.

“Seems like we’ll be here a while.” Chae pats Yuta’s shoulder, like there, there. “Jaemin, you think you have enough power to go Way Big and get us back to Bellwood.”

“Are you kidding?” Jaemin exclaims. “I could crash right here!”

You barely hear them, being too busy looking past the unconscious DNAliens at the massive jumpgate key, which stands like a monument against the barren landscape. “You’ll fix their genetic damage too, won’t you?” you ask, indicating the fallen aliens with a jerk of your chin.

“As soon as I get that kiss,” Jaemin jokes.

You turn your head, leaning in and pressing your lips against his cheek. Jaemin freezes up, staring at you like a deer caught in the headlights when you pull away, and you bite the inside of your cheek to hide a smile. You’ve turned away before he even has a chance to respond.

“So, the key,” you say conversationally, hoping the sober topic of conversation will keep things serious. “There’s still a hyperspace jumpgate out there.”

He nods. “We’re not done here yet,” he speaks. “Once we find out where the Highbreeds are building their interdimensional portal—”

“Los Soledad,” you say.

He stares at you. “What?”

“That’s where it is,” you guess. “I remember the name from tonight—maybe spoken, or a sign, but I do.” You gaze at the key, a faraway look in your eye. “There’s something there. I’m sure of it.”

Jaemin’s quiet for a moment, and you stand in silence, letting the surety of the statement sink into your skin down to your bones.

“Listen,” he speaks up at length, hesitating. You raise your eyebrows. “I’ve been trying to put together a team of—of Plumber kids for the past few weeks, find the Highbreed lair and—” He breaks off, looking suddenly self-conscious as he rubs the back of his neck. “This is going to sound really stupid, since you’re not, you know, a Plumber kid, but—”

“Yes.”

Jaemin blinks, caught off guard, his hand still frozen on his neck. “Yes?”

“Yes,” you confirm. “As soon as I learn how to shoot one of those Laser Lances.” You shrug. “I’m sure your team could do with a human—to, you know, keep it real.”

“Yeah,” he says softly. The smile is real this time, not just confident but warm and genuinely happy, but still a killer. “Yeah, sure.”

You smile back. “Yeah, sure, what?”

“Yeah, sure…” He laughs. “Partner.”

[champagne-coys]

3 with Ben please

A/N - Chilly may be my favorite person to write for, i thoroughly enjoyed writing this. <3. p.s. i wrote this in bed again and i have a theory that i think i write better in bed - just a thought? 

3 - “I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified.”

You and Ben had been friends for a while - you knew each other through the one and only James Madison. You and James had know each other since you were tiny and so it was inevitable that you became friends with Ben. It didn’t take a genius to see that there was something more than what you had with James between you and Ben. The little looks exchanged between the two of you, how you always sat next to him at movie nights, the list was endless.The connection between you didn’t go unnoticed but James and one night he decided to confront you about it. You had gone over to his house just to hang out like the two of you used to. “I miss this.” you gave him a funny look. “Miss what?” “Us hanging out together,” you laughed he was being ridiculous. “James, what are you talking about, we hung out nearly everyday last week?” “Noooo, just me and you - whenever you’re here Ben’s always here as well.” “oh well he’s your friend, i thought he was your best friend - expect me of course - why don’t you like hanging out with him?” “I do but it means i never get to speak to you.” He frowned at you and it all clicked. “Oooh I get it you’re jealous, that’s I spend more time with Ben than I do with you.” “No, well yes but-“ you smiled at him. “Don’t worry you’re still my favourite.” You winked at him and went and sat on his sofa. “Good.” You laughed at him. As an ‘apology’ for spending more time with Ben than him you let him choose the film and settled down. About half way through the film he spoke up. “So what’s going on with you and Ben.” You nearly spat your wine out at the question. “What do you mean madders.” He gave you a look. “You know exactly what I mean y/n, don’t try and deny it.” You shook your head. “Nothings going on.” “Hmmm I think y/n’s got a little crush on Benjamin Chilwell.” He teased as you blushed. “I don’t know what your talking about.” “Y/n I’ve known you forever, you think I don’t notice how you look at each other, you fancy the pants off of each other.” You carried on denying it but deep down you hoped that James was right, you hoped that Ben reciprocated your feelings for him.

~~~~~

A week later

What James had said had been playing on your mind all week. Was it true? Did Ben feel the same? Surely not? You were overthinking it. You were sat on your sofa in your apartment reading a book thought still occupied with your conversation with James last week. The doorbell broke you out of your thoughts, who would be ringing at this time of night. It was 8 at night too late for friends to be coming over - maybe it was just the postman?? You opened the door to see Ben stood there. “hi” he said smiling at you. God did he look cute, hair ungeled, goofy smile. “Hey, come in do you want a drink?” “No, i’m alright I wondering whether you wanted to come on a drive with me?” you gave him a skeptical look but then you didn’t really have anything better to do with your night so you agreed. “Sure let me just get my coat.” You grabbed your coat and Ben grabbed your hand as you walked out the door. It wasn’t out of character for you and Ben to hold hands or cuddle but still after all this time it still cause butterflies in your stomach. You got in his car as he started to drive. “You can have the aux DJ (last/name)” “thank you.” You connected your phone and some Dave started playing. “This is a tune.” Ben said as the both of you started singing along. As the song came to an end Ben said “you have a good music taste.” “cheers Ben.” you smiled thinking that this whole situation was bizarre. Ben out of nowhere had asked to go on a drive with him late at night - sure you were enjoying it but that didn’t mean it wasn’t strange. The drive ended up being a long drive and you had a quick stop at Starbucks on the way, overall a very enjoyable night. As it was getting late and you could sense that Ben was heading back to your house you asked him the question that had been on your mind all night. “so Chilwell why did you bring me on a drive at a ridiculous time of night, hmm?” “well, um I wanted to talk to you.” “and you couldn’t have done that at my house?” you giggled. “Hey, i’m being serious.” he pouted. “sorry, go on... I’m all ears.” You noticed his demeanor change as soon as the words came out of his mouth. He played with his hands and the rings on his finger. “You alright Ben... you seem a bit off?” he parked up his car at your house as he answered your question. “Yeah well no but-“ he took a deep breathe. “Look you’re great and one of the nicest and most genuine people I have ever met, I've really enjoyed tonight and well...  I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified.” he spoke, you could feel the vulnerability of the boy sitting in front of you, after all he had just confessed his feelings for you. You knew Ben and relationships weren’t two things that went especially well together but that didn’t make you like maybe even love him any less. so James was right, hmm makes a change. you looked at him and he looked back at you hoping to get the answer he wanted. before you got a chance to reply Ben was the first to speak; “I’m sorry if I made it awkward, umm just forget i said it.”you could see the tears gathering in his eyes and you gently placed your hand on top of his. “Ben,” he looked up at you, somewhat hopeful. “what makes you think i don’t feel the same way, i’d be stupid if i wasn’t totally head-over-heels for you.” you smiled at him and before he could reply you smashed your lips onto his and as cheesy and clique as it sounds you swore you felt ‘fireworks’ go off. “God, you don’t know how long I've been waiting for that.” Ben replied resting his forehead on yours. “Me too Ben, me too.”

Taglist - @englishfairylights

[creepypasta-headcanons]

Could you do Jeff x female creepypasta reader that has also suffered a fire? I always thought that thats something they could bond over-

You slam your fists on the table's surface. Everyone's attention was now in your eyes.

You left your seat and pointed to Slender's hand.

—PUT THAT DOWN. — you screamed. Jeff started snickering, and reached to BEN's left ear, whispering a joke about (y/n)'s situation and vulnerability. You were sensing that some of the gas pipes were leaking, and a single little flame could fly all of you into burnt ashes. The sweat was visible in your forehead, and your eyes started watering.

Slender moved to you carefully, he knew exactly what was happening. You were remembering.

—Hey, (y/n)...calm down, nothing is going to happen. Breathe. Inhale and exhale...okay? — his voice was soothing, you started to feel sleepy. You closed your eyes for a minute, and there they were:

Screams, and horror faces. The skin of the children at the hospital seemed to melt slowly, and their eyes falling whilst loud screeches left their mouths along with their poor souls.

You, the main nurse, tried to help them get out of the burning place, but it was very late. The only thing you heard after that were the same dead kids saying it was your fault while pointing at you with their burnt fingers.

Suddenly, everything started spinning. The flames, the smoke entering your lungs, the heat of the room, everything was now gone.

— (y/n) you are here, with your family, don't let them break you down, they are already dead, you are a hero, you did everything you could. It's not your fault.— it was Slender's voice. You opened your eyes and stopped screaming after realizing you were actually screaming at Slender's “worried” face. Your breath was agitated, your color was drained and your hair was wet with cold sweat.

— (y/n), dear...go for a walk. — he recommended. You nodded slowly, still trying to stop your body from shaking violently. Everyone was looking at you, some with extreme worry on their faces, others were eating like nothing happened...and there was Jeff. He had a weird expression.

— I'll go with you.— he said. You were actually surprised, but you were too tired to question his decision.

Both of you walked in silence, the night sky was covered in stars, and the moon seemed to be a smile. Eventually, Jeff looked at your expressionless face, realizing how beautiful you are. This thought made him curious about you.

You never really told anyone about your life and why were you living in the creepyhouse, with Slenderman being a very important exception, and this made Jeff think of you as a very closed person. Basically, you never sparked his interest...until a few days ago, when he heard you talking with Slender about your constant nightmares about the fire.

— why are you looking at me like that? — your voice interrupted his thoughts. Thoughts about you.

—uhh...ah... I just...–You just WHAT? ARE YOU GOING TO MAKE FUN OF ME? I HEARD THAT DISGUSTING JOKE YOU TOLD BEN BECAUSE YOU'RE USELESS ENOUGH TO NOT KNOW HOW TO WHISPER WITHOUT OTHERS HEARING. Idiot.— oh, wow, you snapped. He didn't even blink when you screamed all that to his cut “beatiful” face.

—What happened in that fire?— he asked with no remorse at all.

You slapped him, your soft hand having contact with his leather like skin. You covered your face, tears coming from your beautiful (e/c) eyes. This was an amazing show to Jeff, who was questioning why didn't he see the beauty in front of his eyes all this time.

—Pretty...— he said, loud enough for you to hear. Your hands left your face and you tilted your head confused.

— H-Huh...?— Jeff heard you and immediately hugged you, ignoring the fact that you were trying to get away from his embrace. His heart never had this unusual pace, his face felt kinda hotter and his skin was covered in weirdly shaped goosebumps. He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

You sensed all his changes. Every single one of them, and your body tensed up, slowly corresponding Jeff's show of affection.

Both of you sat on the floor, and you started to tell him about the children's hospital you used to work in, and how a gas leak that you sensed but didn't pay attention to killed every kid. You never got over the accident, and you had to be locked up since you kept losing control over your body and harming others.

He listened very carefully and his eyes were glued on yours, finally being able to see all your bottled emotions and feelings. The way you described the situation made him feel something very weird but lovely, and the fact you lived something like him made his heart beat even faster.

After everything, both of you stood up, and hugged. Jeff cupped your face and stared at your eyes, he felt the oh so popular butterflies inside his stomach (or probably the three burritos he ate the night before at 3 a.m.), and got closer to you.

You felt this coming, and you were letting it happen.

The kiss, finally came. Jeff's lips were dry, the dried blood made his taste kind of bittersweet, and his left hand played softly with your hair while the right hand caressed your cheekbone.

Jeff felt the butterflies fly around him while your sweet, plump, delicious lips met his. He felt the need to have you with him forever, he wanted to be like this forever and ever...

Both of you broke the kiss. Your breaths were unbalanced and your face had a very red tone. Jeff, in the other hand, had a dreamy expression plastered on his face and his heart was beating at a inhumane pace. He quickly hugged you, trying to feel the butterflies again, and his hands brushed your hair with love.

Your expression fell again.

— Why are you doing this? — you asked.

— I...oh... I don't know... — his shoulders moved in a weird way, but everything about Jeff was weird so this was no surprise. You just let it happen...

—I think I feel something for you...— he whispered. Oh God he finally learned.

— I don't really know how to feel about this, I literally slapped you fifteen minutes ago. — you chuckled softly. Your soft laugh made his heart explode.

He took your hand and started walking back to the creepyhouse, not knowing that a weirdly tall tree with an inexistent face was watching them with a soft feeling of calm.

[ins0mnia-an0nym0us-au]

my thoughts on The Umbrella Academy S2 [spoilers ahead]

so putting all my thoughts down was really hard. i decided to do it per character instead of like per appearance/episode - sorry if this is kinda hard to follow. this is also VERY LONG... hence the keep reading but here is a small taste -

he really overestimates his ability to time-travel

she told those men that she blew their mind + their heads literally blew up - mine about did too

FIVE

he really overestimates his ability to time-travel

k - he really needs to learn to TALK to his siblings more

but also he needs to work on his talking skills...

seeing five just mass murder people is highly amusing because he’s in the body of a 13yr old

also but how soft five was with vanya - i cry

i wanted a mention of dolores but alas only klaus remembered

though i did enjoy the continued coffee obsession - even if it was subtle

ALLISON

she told those men that she blew those their mind + their heads literally blew up - mine about did too

the second she walked into that diner - i was pAniCKing

the way those women were READY to throw down when allison ran into their shop - we stan them all (one of them was wielding a piping hot curling iron)

her husband ray is the sweetest of men + just what she needed before having to go back to twentieth century/glamour

i really liked the way they showed the consequences of allison using her powers - how she quickly slips back into bad habits. how it makes her into someone she doesn’t like

i’m really glad they didn’t forget claire - i was gonna be mad if she wasn’t mentioned

LUTHER

i stan luther hargreeves + i run the luther hargreeves protection squad cuz all of you are meanies who like to blame him for everything when in reality the real problem is their father

controversial opinion that i will be making a much larger post on but i ship allison x luther - they aren’t biologically related, they were only raised as siblings, there is 0% wrong with them falling in love

luther didn’t bother me in s1 like he did all y’all but that’s cause i’m mature enough to realize all of the siblings are fucked up - so the fact they made him more likeable this season is so nice. maybe ya’ll will take a chill pill on your luther hate-train

it was very interesting seeing luther so apathetic for the first bit of the season, when he had such a hero-complex last season

listen his talk with vanya in the barn was amazing - some people might be upset about the gun but the last time any of them saw her she had just blown up the fucking moon mkay?

he apologized for failing as a brother

for not being there

and he even said he didn’t care if vanya was bullshitting him

last thing - luther underestimating his self-importance now because of how he overestimated his self-importance in s1. i love that psychological circle

DIEGO

him being in the nuthouse makes perfect sense - i won’t lie

his role-reversal with luther this season was so *chef’s kiss*

TEAM ZERO *gives diego the fist-bump he deserved*

the moment lila slapped him when he leaned in for a kiss was the funniest shit ever - ‘i don’t understand you’ - then she kisses him - i was cackling

she gave him so much shit + i love that about her

when reginald yelled at him + it made his stutter come back for the fist time since he was a kid - FEELINGS

so in that last battle when diego redirected those bullets - that’s a power of his in the comics isn’t it? or is that just his power? projectile redirection? cause that was a confusing ass way to introduce that. just saying

him interacting with grace this season was like... hard cuz it’s not really her

KLAUS

the fact he made a cult is just so... klaus

he very much so looks like a hippie jesus

i’m kinda glad they showed him relapse because in a lot of media once someone gets clean it’s all butterflies + roses + unicorns out the ass. in reality - relapses happen

the family still isn’t very nice to klaus but we can work on that - they are better than before. it’s a work in progress

klaus trying to stop dave from dying but instead moving up his enlistment date

that diner scene made me hurt

BEN

the fact he is so over getting klaus out of things -  I'M So tIrED oF YouR shIt Klaus

WE GOT KLAUS’S LEVITATING ABILITY BUT IT WAS JUST BEN AND I LOVE THIS ADLGFJGKLSDFJG

when the two of them were just fighting on the side of the road - i cackled

ben being the one to talk vanya down? what we deserved

‘hug me while i go’ - i cry

THE ENDING WITH BEN BEING THAT LITTLE SHIT HEEL BUT ALIVE

i can’t wait for jackass alive ben next season

VANYA

poor girl is awake for a whole ass 5 seconds before getting hit by a car

i really thought vanya was pretending to have amnesia

may i say that s1 vanya dressed far too gay to be heterosexual + s2 vanya did not disappoint

as a gay i appreciate the fact the writers heard all of us saying vanya is 100% gay + being like ‘ok sure’

it makes me kinda sad how happy vanya was with no memories vs s1

her connection with harlan was just so - amazing

also, i think harlan always had powers + that’s why vanya was able to pull a moses at the lake + jesus harlan back to life

i liked sissy. i also liked how she gave us a glimpse into a very realistic thing that used to happen to women who loved women. they would marry men because it was the norm. they’d also have affairs.

and her choice to stay was one made by a good mother - she was putting harlan first. every good mom puts their child first. even if they so desperately want to be selfish.

in good news - vanya now knows she likes vagina!

the fact they legit used LSD on vanya while she was being electrocuted was A LOT

seeing inside vanya’s mind was super interesting - especially when she remembered + how she was trapped inside the white violin

she wanted to die - let’s all take that in for a second

she ASKED for her siblings help + they didn’t disappoint for ONCE

her POWER at the farm... she leveled an ARMY

MISC.

i stan herb + elliot

the handler is super conniving - i wasn’t expecting to dislike her this much

ngl i was rooting for fish-man

lila had me convinced she was crazy the first half ngl - also i guessed she was one of their lost siblings when she first fought five

the three swedes weren’t as fun as hazel + cha-cha but still decent

reginald continues to be #worstDadever

anyone else a little confused why he peeled his face off? s1 flashback he was in human form on his home-planet but apparently it’s a mask???

we saw the original grace!!! she was just as perfect as the robot version too!

BABY POGO IN HIS LITTLE JAMMIES MADE ME WANT TO SNUGGLE HIM SO BADLY - that is all

[soulwillower]

laser tag • bill denbrough

(bill denbrough x reader)

requested: IMAGINE LASER TAG WITH BILL AND HE’D PUSH YOU INTO A CORNER AND KISS YOU AND THEN HE’D SHOOT AND WALK AWAY

warnings: swearing, i think thats it, unedited as usual lol

sorry to make u wait!! i hope u enjoy! i loved this idea tbh

[losers + reader are 16+ in this]

1.7k words

♡

"i can't believe you coerced us into doing this." ben mumbles, trying to detangle himself from the cord connecting his vest to his laser gun. you snort, shaking your head as you pull a vest with a blue light towards your body, examining it.

"it's my birthday, haystack. plus, you've never seen bill play this game. he's insane. i swear, it’ll be worth it." richie says, pulling ben's head through the cord and sorting him right. 

you chuckle, "it's not even close to your birthday, richie. and i don't know.... bill doesn't seem like he's that good." you say, lifting a brow at the boy in question.

bill raises his eyebrows at you, placing his laser gun on his shoulder as he grins. "y-you think i'm bad at this, y/l/n?" his teeth glow purplish and bright in the blacklight of the laser tag prep room and you shrug. "d-do you know h-how many hours i spent here with g-g-georgie when we were k-kids?"

you shrug again. "you'd just get distracted so easily." you say challengingly, grinning at him. bill always brought out your competitive side.

"god, i’m too sober for this." stan mutters as he pulls on his own blue vest, grinning mischievously. you roll your eyes at your friend and shove his shoulder. "shut up, stan. don't act like you're not the most excited." richie says, pulling on a vest with red lights. bill grins at you, face being lit up by his own red-lit vest and you can't help but swallow dryly as you notice how perfect he looks. 

god, you have it bad. 

"hm, y-you don't think i can b-beat you?" bill asks. you shake your head, giving him a wide, fake grin. "god, you're so smart, denbrough. how'd you ever guess that?" you ask, clipping your blue-lit vest.

 he just chuckles at you and your stomach fills with warm feelings at your dumb banter. boy, you're off your game tonight. you grin, never one to back up from some competition with the denbrough boy. something about him makes you want to win all the time.

"i don't know, y/n/n. i heard bill plays dirty." bev pipes up, grinning at you, her face red from her own led lights. you laugh lightly as richie pipes up, "nah, i'm sure y/n would love that." he quips as richie, bill, bev, and ben walk over to the room half-separated by a wall. you roll your eyes, even though they can't see you from behind the wall. your face is heated from his teasing.

"i don't know why they have so much confidence." mike says, giving you a clap on the back. you laugh with him as you speak up, "it's because bill's too hot-headed and richie is an idiot."

"i h-h-heard that!" bill calls, he and richie's heads popping to look at you from the other room. "you were supposed to!" you call back, giggling as eddie adjusts the straps of the vest on your chest.

"you w-want to make this enemy, y/l/n? you g-got a target on your back!" bill calls, making you giggle into your hand. all three boys on your team shoot you a knowing look, to which you glare in response. "fuck off." you mutter to them.

"give me your worst, denbrough!" you call in to the dark arena as the doors open and you, eddie, stan and mike are released to your side of the laser tag arena. you find your flag and start to get together, making a plan of attack.

towards the end of the game, you'd taken to hiding in a corner because richie was just stupidly smart enough to continuously try the same route up towards your flag and he couldn't figure out where he was being sniped from. 

it was hilarious - but more importantly, you only had one life left until you were out of the game and you had to protect yourself. 

but suddenly, a familiar tall figure turns the corner, his back away from you. you take this as your opportunity, shooting bill in the back and smirking as a bright light flashes and his vest beeps off. he groans, looking around the space in front of him as you walk up behind him.

"so easily distracted." you whisper right behind him, making him turn to you and narrow his eyes. "f-fuck you, y/n." he mutters. grinning, you return to the shadows. he doesn't follow you.

you dont see anybody for a few minutes so you start to wander around aimlessly, your gun still aimed forward just in case someone pops out.

"y/n." you hear and you jump, looking around in the darkness for the voice you could pick out of a million. 

then he appears, gun positioned at your chest. "don't shoot." you beg bill quickly, just desperate to survive and stay in the game. 

maybe he'd have a shred of mercy. bill chuckles, "wh-why's that, y/n? almost out of lives?" he says teasingly. you roll your eyes.

"if i didn't know any better..." he mutters, walking up to you. you slowly watch him as he enters your personal space, shocked by his proximity. you can practically feel his body on yours and you feel yourself vibrating with anticipation. "i-i'd say that y-you think you're b-better than me."

you look at him in the dim light, the sounds of your friends screaming and laughing fading away as the smell of bill's light cologne fills your senses. he looks like the devil as he smirks down at you, gun in hand. yours is still in your hand too, and you briefly wonder if he can hear your heartbeat.

"a-and yet somehow, i always end up with th-the upper hand." bill says. maybe it's because it's dark, but you swear you see his eyes glancing down to your lips and back up. you swallow, your mouth dry. is he about to...

and then bill’s hand is pushing you against the wall, leaning forward, pinning you and pressing his lips against yours. you inhale sharply through your nose in surprise as his lips move hotly against yours, his hand falling from the wall to your hip, running up your side. 

your stomach erupts with butterflies, your knees feel week and your mind is reeling. 

your hands drop your gun and it bounces on the end of its cord as you kiss back in surprise, your hands going to his neck and chest.

his tongue traces your lip and you open your mouth, stomach flipping. 

you’re wrapped up in bill - his smell, his taste, and how his body feels against you. you think your legs might give out because of how he’s kissing you, like a storm in the middle of the ocean. you’re breathless.

 only a few moments pass before you feel a pressure that isn’t bill pressing against your chest. 

you don’t have time to react as you hear the familiar, close sound of the laser gun and then that damn loud beeping noise of your vest and your eyes fly open. you pull back from bill to see your vest lighting up then turning completely off. shakily, you lift your gun to bill’s chest and pull the trigger but nothing happens. 

bill killed you. you were out.

"so e-easily distracted." he echoes your previous words, this time dripping from his own lips like honey. he's smirking at you as he immediately retreats backwards, winking as he disappears behind a wall. that cocky asshole. 

you run your hands through your hair, your heart thumping in your chest. what the fuck?

[softballum]

For you @callumsmitchells. 

Ben is distracted by Callum and fails to cook their dinner.

Callum sees the amber glow of the kitchen lights coming through the back window. The noise of the extractor fan is whirring through the quiet of the square in the evening light. Today had taken its toll on him but all he wants now is to hold Ben, have some dinner and drink down the six pack he picked up from the Minute Mart. He spent the day thinking he wouldn’t see Ben again. A lump in his throat as he told Lexi not to worry, his spine had been wound up like a corkscrew, while he clenched his fists in his jacket pockets.

He catches a glimpse of Ben’s head bobbing passed the steamy window. God, he missed him so much. He can’t wait to just lie on the couch and curl his fingers round that soft, brown hair. It was a surprise to them both just how much Ben turned into a complete softy when he did that, now his hair was longer. Snuggling himself right into Callum’s chest the odd muffled moan escaping his throat.

He takes a deep breath and nudges open the squeaking back door to the Mitchell household. He catches Ben’s eye as he steps over the threshold, throwing him his signature Halfway smirk.

“Ahh there he is, the man of the hour! Or well…my hour anyway.” Little butterflies tremble their way through Callum’s stomach as Ben reaches up on his tip toes to kiss Callum on the cheek, slightly stained tea towel slung over his shoulder. He’s just so glad they’re both home where they should be. He looks soft in a white t-shirt and his favourite, if ever so slightly threadbare, joggers.

“Spag bol alright for you babe?”

“Eh yeah fine” Callum mumbles, sliding the beer bottles onto the table top.

Ben instantly recognises his mood is off and asks what’s up. The hesitance in Calums reply gives him the chance to explain.

“Listen, I’m back now. And I’ve been to see Lex and given her a cuddle. All I want is to have a quiet night in with my man and pretend the last 24 hours don’t exist. Please?” His pleading is soft, almost a whisper.

“Sorry. It’s just been a stressful day yeah.” He shuffles his trainers about the laminate flooring, brow creased as he looks at Ben.

“Don’t apologise! It’s me that’s caused this mess.” He huffs. Ben steps towards him and rests his hand over his cotton covered chest. “Why don’t you head up them stairs, freshen up and all this will be ready in no time.”

As Callum jogs up the stairs he pretends he doesn’t hear the crash of pots and pans while Ben shouts out profanities.

“He’ll be fine” he mutters with a grin whilst he goes to grab some fresh towels.

15 minutes later Callum’s socked feet patter through to the kitchen, damp hair hanging at his forehead, free of product. He feels calmer now, managing to scrub off the stress of the day.

Ben approaches him with two open and slightly chilled beer bottles.

“Better?”

Callum doesn’t answer. Instead he leans down, one hand delicately placed on Ben’s waist, the other in its rightful place at the side of his head and pushes his soft lips onto Ben’s own. Slightly surprised by the act of affection, Ben opens his mouth to deepen the kiss. He spent so many months apart from Callum, he’ll use every opportunity he can get to drink him in.

Distracted by the sweet taste of each other, neither of them hear nor notice the pan of bolognese sauce bubbling and overflowing, spilling all over the metal hob.

Ben pulls back slowly, face scrunching up in disgust.

“Wha is it…?”

“Do you smell…”

“BURNING” They shout in unison.

They rush over to the overflowing and now black looking saucepan.

“Oh ho ho that is not good.” Ben chuckles, as he tries to stir a spoon in what is left of the shop bought jar.

They stare at each other for a second before bursting into hysterics. They knew this would happen the moment Ben said he’d cook for them but it was always nice to let him at least try.

“It’s fine, it's fine. I can chuck some bits together and we’ll still have something at least edible” Callum says catching his breath. He watches as Ben crashes the destroyed spoon and pan into the sink.

“I’ve missed this. Us.

Ben swivels round to meet Callum’s blue eyes.

“Me too” he replies softly with a smile, eyes still wet from their earlier laughter.

“Right, I need some tomatoes, an onion and that jar of lazy garlic from the top cupboard.”

Ben just stares as Callum goes to grab a knife and clean chopping board. One hand leaning on the counter, the other in a fist placed on his popped up hip.

“Quite the bossy man in the kitchen aren’t ya.” Eyebrow arched as warmth starts to work its way through the pit of his belly. Not willing to openly admit that Callum shouting his orders at him is quite the turn on.

Callum raises his eyebrows at him over his shoulder, completely oblivious to the affect he’s having on his boyfriend.

“Get a shift on then!”

[fanficshiddles]

Butterfly Into Chains, Chapter 7

Esme curled up on Tom’s lap, she was still trying to get her breathing back under control.

‘P… please… I don’t think I can take anymore.’ She whimpered, looking up dazedly at Tom.

‘Shhh, lovely one. Don’t worry, we will take good care of you.’ He stroked her hair back and then caressed her cheek with the back of his hand.

‘No… no knotting though?’ She questioned.

‘No knotting.’ Tom assured her with a smile.

David took off his shirt and Esme couldn’t help but stare at his body. Her mouth felt like it was watering, and Tom noticed the look on her face. He chuckled and slipped off the bed, propping her head up with a pillow.

He glared at the others and they all moved back, giving them a little bit of space. Tom sat on the chair at the end of the bed again, getting the perfect view.

David took off his trousers and shrugged them down, he had gone commando, Esme’s eyes widened when she saw how large his cock was. Hard and ready to take her. She squirmed and closed her legs, attempting to move up the bed. But he captured her ankle and dragged her back down towards him.

‘Relax, poppet. This won’t hurt at all. On the contrary, it will feel so good.’ David said softly, pushing her legs apart so he could settle between them. He didn’t put his entire weight down on her, not wanting to crush her.

He gently held her chin and pressed a soft kiss upon her lips, taking her breath away. He moved slowly, moulding his lips to hers and giving her time to get used to the feeling. Then he slipped his tongue into her mouth, exploring and teasing her.

Esme was pleasantly surprised with how good it felt. Her eyes fluttered shut and she gripped at the bed sheets beneath her, needing something to hold onto.

David kissing her kept her distracted from what was going on down below. He was stroking himself, getting ready to take her. He suckled on her tongue as he rubbed his tip up and down her wet cunt, making her jolt every time he moved over her clit.

She whimpered into his mouth when he started to push into her. He was met with some resistance at first, but when he changed tactics and started kissing and sucking her neck instead, along with sliding a hand down between them to stroke her clit, her body welcomed him in a bit easier.

‘That’s it, open up for me… good girl.’ David hummed against her neck.

He inched his way in slowly, then he felt the initial pop as he pushed in completely. She cried out from the feeling, gasping in shock.

‘Easy… that’s it. Almost there.’ David then pushed the last few inches into her and he stilled.

He was struggling to keep his composure, she was clenching around him so hard. Squeezing the life out of him.

The rest of the Alphas stripped off, unable to resist stroking themselves while they watched David deflower her. Anxiously waiting for their turn. But Tom kept fully dressed. He was leaning back on the chair, watching Esme and David intently while he sipped his whiskey. Even though he was painfully hard in his trousers.

When David felt Esme relaxing more around him, he started to move very slowly. Keeping deep. He wanted to feel as much of her around him as possible, because she was utterly divine.

He was able to fuck her for longer than he thought he would manage to hold out for. But then he felt his cock starting to throb.

‘David.’ Tom warned. ‘No knotting, remember.’

David grunted and thrust once more into her, then reluctantly pulled out of her. He gripped his cock and squeezed, especially over his knot that started to form. The he exploded and came all over her stomach, as she lay there, feeling a bit defeated.

Esme was so relieved that he didn’t cum inside of her. But she found that her body wasn’t happy about that, her cunt was throbbing at the loss of cock. She whimpered and writhed on the bed, ashamedly wanting to be filled again.

David finished cumming and he wiped the tip of his cock against her inner thigh. Then he slipped off the bed, out of the way. ‘Absolutely wonderful.’ He praised.

The poor omega didn’t get time to recover or process her loss of virginity. Because it was Chris’ turn.

He moved onto the bed and smiled at her softly. ‘Alright angel. You are such a beauty, I can’t wait to try this lovely pussy of yours.’ He stroked her and chuckled at her bucking her hips up towards him.

Tom looked to David and smirked. They most definitely had her now.

Chris was happy with how wet she still was. So he grabbed her legs and pulled them up to hook her ankles over his shoulders and she gasped at the position, it opened her up even more to him as he didn’t waste any time and slid into her.

There was a small bit of resistance. But he took his time and was soon fully sheathed inside her warm cunt.

‘Ohhh god. David, you weren’t lying about how wonderful she feels.’ He moaned.

Chris took a firm hold of her legs as he started thrusting into her. While it was a decent pace, he was still mindful about her being fragile and new to it all. But the angle for Esme was bringing her to completely new heights as the broad head of his cock kept hitting her g spot every time he pulled back enough, before thrusting into her again.

He lasted about the same length of time as David did. Tom was about to remind him not to knot her, but he pulled out in time anyway and didn’t even need to stroke himself to completion as he came over her stomach, his sperm joining David’s.

Esme had a blissed out look in her eyes, she could barely focus. But she trembled as Chris rubbed her stomach, massaging the sperm into her skin more.

‘Good girl, Esme. What a wonderful body you have.’ Chris praised as he got off the bed and allowed the next one to go.

Ben and Michael had a stare down before both rushing towards the bed. Ben shoved Michael out of the way, Michael snarled in annoyance and was about to retaliate, but Tom grabbed his arm.

‘Don’t.’ Was all Tom said, and Michael reluctantly backed down.

Ben crawled up the bed towards her, she glanced down and her cheeks burned red at the look of hunger in his eyes. But instead of crawling right up over her like she was expecting, he hooked his arms around her thighs and latched onto her cunt with his mouth.

‘Oh my god!’ Esme cried out as her head fell backwards in pleasure.

Ben’s tongue lapped her up hungrily with long, broad strokes. After feeling her thighs tremble against the sides of his head, he concentrated on her clit and swirled his tongue over it continuously until she came undone on his tongue. He lapped up all of what she had to give, growling and moaning in delight at her taste.

Esme thought she had died and gone to heaven. While she had enjoyed Tom and David’s fingers on her earlier, and ashamedly she enjoyed the cocks too, there was something rather special about being licked like that…

Ben reached up and grabbed at her breasts while he licked her a few more times. She shuddered under him as he then smacked his lips together, licking them as he crawled up over her fully. He kissed her deeply, she could taste herself on his tongue and was slightly unsure at first. But the way her clit throbbed at the action was all she needed to know to relax and enjoy it.

The third Alpha to take her was gentle too, he allowed her body to adjust before he started moving properly. By now, Esme was absolutely loving the full feeling that the Alphas cocks were able to give her.

A deep part of her did wonder how it would feel to be knotted, but at the same time, she was glad they weren’t claiming her fully like that.

‘Oh fuck…’ Ben grunted, thrusting rather sharply into her once that made her gasp. ‘Guys… she’s so tight.’ He growled, burying his face into her neck to suck her skin.

Esme’s knuckles were turning white as she grabbed the sheets so tight, but then she wrapped her arms around Ben instead, feeling a little braver now and she dug her nails into his back. That turned him on more as he picked up the pace for the last few thrusts.

‘Ben. Pull out.’ Tom reminded him.

Ben’s knot started to swell just on the outside of her cunt, he put all of his strength into his willpower to pull out. If it hadn’t been his pack leader telling him to do so, he didn’t think he would’ve managed to release her.

While panting, he stroked himself over her, cumming on her stomach.

‘Oh, sweetheart. That was sensational.’ Ben praised, leaned down over her once more to kiss her softly.

Michael growled in delight at finally having his chance. When he crawled on the bed he loomed over the small omega, a big grin spread across his face.

‘Over onto your front, darling. I want to take you from behind.’ He helped to flip her over, because her body was completely spent.

Part of her was glad, as it meant she couldn’t see him or the others watching. Tom was unnerving her, the way he was just sitting at the end of the bed, watching closely.

Michael propped her up and slid an arm underneath her middle, to support her. Her arms were shaky as she tried to support herself. But she almost melted completely when Michael started pressing kisses up her spine, right up to the back of her neck where he flipped her hair out of the way to get better access.

‘You’re such a good girl for us. This has been so much fun.’ He whispered, then nuzzled into her hair. He inhaled her scent deeply and with his free hand he reached underneath her to play with her clit, making her arms and legs shake. If he hadn’t been holding her up, she would’ve collapsed for sure.

While she was distracted with his clit fiddling, he thrust determinedly into her. Her cunt yielded to allow him in. She was starting to feel a little bit achey, just from all the penetration she was receiving for the first time ever. But as Michael’s cock started massaging her insides, the new position giving her a new kind of pleasure, she forgot all about her aches and pains.

Michael nipped at her shoulder as he rocked into her, his finger still strumming her clit quickly. It was more sensitive than ever having been flushed out by his cock inside her, there was nowhere for her little nub to hide.

Michael almost lost his mind when he felt her cum around him. He shuddered and lost his rhythm as she clenched around him, as if trying to milk his cock. But he remembered his place and was able to pull out just in time, his cock spraying like a hose all over the bed beneath them.

When he removed his arm from her, she collapsed down. Panting, exhausted. She wanted to sleep, more than anything. Even if her body was still tingling all over in pleasure. She was starting to think she had died and gone to heaven.

Michael smoothed his hand over the swell of her bum, making her tremble.

‘Lovely.’ He purred.

As she lay there, trying to catch her breath, the four Alphas who’d had a taste of her looked at Tom. He was eyeing her up hungrily, his finger on his lower lip.

Slowly he stood up and started undoing his shirt buttons.

Michael, Ben, David and Chris shared a look, all totally jealous of what Tom was about to do.

‘Turn around, lovely. Let me see your beautiful face.’ Tom said.

Esme took a moment before doing what he said. She rolled onto her side and curled herself up into a ball. But she raised her head and looked down the bed to Tom. Her stomach lurched as he slid his shirt off and then started unbuckling his belt.

‘It’s my turn now.’ He growled.