#Just wanted to throw a boy in here for good measure

[godbirdart]

Bill 29: The Fairness and Safety in Sport Act

Danielle Smith and the United Conservative Party are being creepy weird about children again and since this also directly targets people like me [trans people] I have opted to skip the niceties cut scene and get right down to choosing violence.

Seriously, I cannot be the only person weirded out over how creepily obsessed Danielle Smith and the United Conservative Party are over trans people. They talk more about trans people than anything else. Just in October they pushed out three anti-trans bills - the above included. For what? There's MAYBE 2000 trans kids out of the 800,000 students in the whole province. It's pretty damn insane they're trying to legalize gender checks on children at all.

Ofc, some people are waving it off saying "No! It's just for the trans kids!! >:C". Nah mate. If your kid is a slight bit too effeminate or masculine or just plainly doesn't fit the Gender Roles, you bet their ass is getting reported by faculty members acting in bad faith. Hope you aren't aiming for sport scholarships in college / university👍

Some people are also whining about trans people having "athletic advantages" again so lemme say here: I have cis friends who played girl's rugby in high school. They were VERY capable of decimating the boys. If your cis kid can't measure up against a trans kid, that's just a straight up skill issue. get good maybe? lmao

This ain't the time to take the moral high road. If Danielle Smith and the United Conservative Party want to throw the tiny 0.3% of Albertans under the bus in the name of snatching authority over kids' bodily autonomy, then yeah I Will stoop to their level and be a dick about it because that shit is unhinged freak behavior. They keep saying trans people are out to get their kids but girl... the call is coming from INSIDE THE HOUSE

[nervoussagittarius]

matt sturniolo and y/n being cute for 6 minutes straight

matt sturniolo x reader

summary: a compilation of cute moments between matt and his girlfriend, caught on camera

warnings: none

☼ you and the triplets had decided to take a trip to hawaii for a week vacation. the boys were vlogging for their channel in the airport when nick panned over to you and matt sitting side by side sharing a pair of headphones.

“matt how do you feel about going back to hawaii?” nick asked. as matt seaming didn’t hear what he said, you squeezed his hand you were holding pausing the music that was playing for you two.

you were about to slip your had out of matt’s when he grabbed it again using his other hand to pull your chair closer to his. “we’re very excited nick, aren’t we baby.” he said glancing between you and the camera

“i’m excited to eat really good food and be really tan”

“and i’m excited to see y/n in a bikini” matt replied as you jokingly slapped his chest.

matt looked at you again as he began to smother your face in kisses and you giggled.

“and that’s enough of those two” nick said turning to chris instead.

☼ you had just fallen asleep when the boys started filming for their new wednesday video. you had come over to hangout with matt. deciding you didn’t want to run to the grocery store with them, you quickly found comfort in matt’s bed.

“chris, can you read off the recipe?” nick asked, trying to find measuring spoons. the triplets were filming another cooking video for this week, and they didn’t have the best track record with making things the right way.

“nick, i don’t know what the fuck any of this means. why can’t you just read it and i’ll measure?”

“matt what are you doing? why aren’t you mixing the ingredients?” nick asked. he was starting to feel annoyed at the idea of making these muffins from scratch.

“can’t we just ask y/n for help? she’s good at this kind of stuff” chris explained trying to get his brothers attention. “fine chris just go get her”

chris walked into matt’s room, and seeing you asleep he thought nothing of it and woke you. “y/n, we need help baking for our video.” he then walked out assuming you would follow.

you quickly woke up throwing on one of matt’s hoodies and made your way to the kitchen. nick was the first to notice you and how you looked slightly lethargic from not being fully awake yet. “chris did you wake her up or something? why would you do that?” this caught matt’s attention and he quickly took in your current state.

“chris!” matt slightly exclaimed. he turned to you and walked you both to what he thought was out of the camera frame. he quickly pulled you into a hug “i didn’t know you were sleeping otherwise i would’ve never let him bother you. are you okay being in the video quick… cause if not you can go back to sleep. i’m really sorry for waking you”

“no no. chris didn’t know. it’s okay matt, i don’t mind” matt then grabbed your his hoodie pocket pulling you over to the table. nick went on to explain what the boys had done so far and asked if you could be there to double check their work. matt kept a comforting hand on your back as he stood beside you, and he kissed your head occasionally as you scolded chris on the messed up measurements he was adding.

☼ matt was doing a quick stream when you arrived at the boy’s house. you just got off work and all you wanted was to see matt and tell him you loved him.

silently you walked into matt’s room trying not to disturb him as you walked over. “hi baby! how was your day?” matt said pushing one side of his headset off his ear.

streaming would never stop him from giving you all the attending in the world. he loved showing you off. he pulled you over to his desk. “look guys, y/n just got here. look at how pretty she looks.” he gave you the biggest hug pulling you up into him. he gave you as kiss not caring that the chat was going wild over how cute you two were.

“can i sit with you?” you brushed a piece of hair out of his eyes. without hesitating he sat the two of you down on his desk chair. you guys talked with the chat for a little bit before matt grabbed his controller going back to the game he was playing.

you sat there contently stealing little glances at him, which didn't go unnoticed by the fans.

☼ nick was having one of his moments where he was very active on snapchat. he was answer everyones questions when all of a sudden, unbeknown to nick, you and matt were caught cuddling in the back of one of his pictures.

his messages were soon flooded with comments about the two of you and how cute you were.

nick shortly became disgusted with all the girls making comments on you and his brother. he passed his phone over to you to make a statement on the situation.

"hi guys, y/n here. nick gave me his phone to talk to you all. yes, matt is here, and yes we are cuddling." you began to giggle at how insane you felt. matt lifted his head from your chest at the movement, giving a shut eye smile to the camera.

chats started coming in specifically directed to you this time. you tried to answer as many as you could, but most were just saying how they love you and how matt always looks so "babygirl" when he's you're together.

you loved how accepting the boys fans were of your relationship. you started a new video focusing on matt's sleeping face resting on you. "please everyone, let's take a minute and look at how cutie patootie matt is. he's just so kissable and squeezable"

"okay give me my phone back. i'm officially disgusted."

"bye guys!" matt said opening one eye to look at the camera and wave.

☼ you and matt had decided to have a little date night while nick and chris went out with some of your friends. you guys hadn't had much time alone in the past couple of weeks so this was a nice change of pace.

the night started out simple. the two of you had a picnic at the beach and then you ended up stargazing out of matt's car. as both of you made your way back to the triplets house you thought it would be a good idea to bake some cookies and watch a movie for the rest of the night.

while you two were baking, you were unaware that nick and chris were on their way back with tara and jake. music was softly playing as you set the tray of cookies into the oven.

"dance with me." matt stated, grabbing your hand to spin you around. you let out a laugh as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

coming up to the front door, tara was vlogging the group upon arrival. chris unlocked the front door as they all entered. the music could be heard from the front stairs.

"should we try to scare them?"

"absolutely! just wait and let me get my camera back out"

as they all piled into the living room quietly, they noticed you two in your own world dancing to some mac miller song. your head rested on matts chest as he swayed to the beat.

"stop it. they're so cute. the girlies are going to die for this footage"

you and matt quickly glanced at the group of four. at the same time the timer went off for the cookies.

"alright enough with the cute coupley-ness. let's see how these cookies turned out"

---------------------

comments:

i love them. i don't know who i want to be more

its so funny how everyone is so in love with them being in love and nick is just grossed out 24/7

i love how y/n is never wearing her own clothes. only matts

they're so in love its not even funny

"i just want to see y/n in a bikini" me too matt. me too

[mywritersmind]

DROWN IT OUT - LN4

summary : a very drunken night makes for some very drunken mistakes.

listen up : dirty jokes. kissing. lando norris x zakbrownsdaughter!reader. sort of toxic reader.

word count : 1205

⋆｡‧˚⋆

I laugh as my friends and I walk through the club, getting to skip the line (thank you mick my favorite bouncer!). I pull my little black dress down, holding my friend's hand tightly as we maneuver through the crowd.

I grin even wider when I see Oscar and Franco, standing with drinks in their hands while talking. “Blue and Orange! My favs!” They turn me, wondering who’s screaming at them.

“Ay! Y/n!” Franco hugs me, clearly tipsy and even louder than usual, “You're here!”

Oscar laughs at Franco before messing up my hair, “Hey! Have you seen Lily?” I shake my head.

“I’d be with her if I saw her here! Better than you two.” I take Franco’s drink from his hand, tasting it before coughing, “Freak!”

“Uncultured!” He yells back at me as I shake my head and make my way to the bar, ordering my first drink of many.

Once my friends find me again, my night seems to blur a bit. I’m dancing with them, then some guy, then Franco?

“Got an audience, Y/n.” He whispers in my ear, his hands on my arms. I look to where he’s pointing to and silently swear to myself.

Lando Norris takes no measures to pretend he’s not staring at me. I raise a brow and he raises his glass. Franco shivers next to me, “I could cut the tension with a knife!” I shake my head, grabbing Franco’s hand and pulling him out of sight from Lando.

I find my friends who are with Oscar and Lily. I scream and hug the girl as he giggles. I sip my drink while throwing my hands up in the air, twirling around to the music.

The club is stuffy and loud, the smell of smoke all around us. I jump in my heels because the alcohol in my system is numbing my feet pain. I flip my hair back so it’s out of my face, wishing I had a hair tie.

I continue to dance, swinging my hips and singing alone before I back up into someone. His hands are on my hips in an instant to stop me from falling further, “Brown.” he leans down to whisper it in my ear as my back is still facing him.

My eyes widen, I turn around quickly before crossing my arms, Lando’s hands leaving me for his pockets, “Norris.”

“You look really good.” I ignore the slight smile that forces its way onto my lips and focus on his voice instead.

I look him up and down, the all black doing something to me that I can’t explain… I bite my lip and look up at him, “You too. Great race today.”

We’re in Austin and the clench of his jaw tells me everything I need to know, “You’re funny.” he deadpans.

“So I've been told!” I smile widely as he leans down a bit so I can hear him. I look at him flirtatiously, “Dance with me?”

He shakes his head, wiping down his face as he looks at me. Fuck, the way he looks at me. He wants to, I know he does. He shakes his head anyways.

I roll my eyes, “Right, I forgot your my dads golden boy!”

His expression hardens, “He wouldn’t like you starting anything, either.”

“I’m his baby girl!” I smile innocently, “I do no wrong.”

“Yeah until you get too close to me. Why is it, just me? I feel like he gets antsy when you’re even a garage away.”

I laugh, “Because you- ” poking my finger at his chest, almost hitting the ‘4’ dangling from his neck. It’s a perfect reminder why I can’t do the things I want to do with him. “Are Lando Norris. And Oscar is happily glued to Lily! I don’t know if you know this…” I whisper in his ear, “But you’ve sort of got a fuck boy reputation.”

He pushes his hand through his curls, and I watch his arm go up and down. I hate myself for being attracted to him but damn is he good looking.

This makes a smirk grow on his face, tilting his head down, “He’d kill me.”

I smile, “I wouldn’t mind! The things we’d do aren't the sort of thing I'd tell my dad.”

His smile drops, taking a breath, “You make a convincing point. Still, no though.”

I sigh dramatically and back away, “Fine! Remember, Norris. My lips are always here for you!” I wink and walk away, joining my friends and letting Franco place his hand on my hip, knowing he’s watching.

⋆｡‧˚⋆

I met Lando the first day he signed with Mclaren. He was younger, we both were. We were never friends, we didn’t see each other much because I was busy with Uni.

This year however, has been different. Very different. It’s like I missed four years and suddenly Lando got hot, flirty, and cocky.

But I still think back to that day when we first met, it was the day that my dad saw Lando and I smile at each other, he immediately vetoed any relationship with the McLaren drivers, or any other for that matter.

Lando knows this. He thinks it makes him more interesting to me, maybe he’s right.

I slam my phone back down on the table, a little drunk and severely pissed off.

“Your dad?” Lily asks me, Oscar’s arms are wrapped around her as he listens in.

I nod, “I just- Ugh! I can’t stand him sometimes.”

Oscar laughs, “I hear that.” I sometimes forget that other people have options on my dad. It’s sort of weird to me.

I sigh and down the rest of my drink, quite drunk and scanning the room before I can talk myself out of it.

“I’ll be back.” I mumble, setting my eyes on Lando and striding towards him. He’s talking to Carlos and Franco, a drink in his hand. “Norris!”

I yell, moving around the people who are annoyingly in my way. He turns to me, standing up straighter with a brow raised. I march right up to him, taking his hands in my face and kissing him.

He freezes for a second before grabbing my waist with one hand and kissing me back. This was what I wanted and it feels damn good. I can taste the alcohol on him, he smells like cologne.

People whistle and cheer around us. It takes my hand moving to Lando’s hair for him to back away from me.

He’s out of breath and licking his lips. He shakes his head, “Y/n.” I can tell he’s drank as much as me, he closes his eyes and breathes before the grip on my waist tightens, except he’s moving me away from him.

I know what he’s going to say by the look in his eye, he leans closer to no one can hear what he says except me, “I don’t want to be a way you piss off your dad.”

I frown, “Come on, Lando!”

“Come to me when you’re sober and not pissed off.” He shakes his head, still holding onto his drink as he walks away.

[darkbluekies]

The ocs reactions to darling vomiting

Warnings: throwing up, fingers down ones throat, mentions of alcohol,

Silas:

He's the type to hold your hair if you have it long enough for it to be a bother. Brings you to the bathroom and crouches down behind you to hold your hair/you up. Isn't fazed about it the slightest. He has seen — done — worse things.

"Good girl/boy, get it all out. You'll feel much better afterwards. Hold my hand, squeeze it as hard as you want. You're safe with me, I'm not going anywhere."

Dr Kry:

He will not leave you alone until you are feeling better. If you are nauseous, he will find solutions, often leading to throwing up. He will help put two fingers down your throat if you're uncomfortable doing it yourself.

"It's safe, I promise. I am here the entire time. I wouldn't do anything that would harm you, would I? You trust me, don't you? If you throw up, you will feel better, trust me."

King Edmund:

He hates it. There can't be anything more disgusting than vomit. But he can't ditch you. And he certainly won't let anyone else hold your hair up, won't let anyone see you in such a vulnerable moment. His solution is to sit beside you on the floor and hold your hair, but with his back turned to the bucket and with a clothespin over his nose and eyes either closed or focused on anything in the distance.

"Yes, yes, I do feel bad for you, my love, i do. But I will throw up too if I see or smell it — fuck this is disgusting — but don't care about me. No, I'm not leaving! Keep on vomiting instead of whining."

Jerry:

This girl will hold your hair/hold you up, give you water, clean you up, and wipe your tears. These moments are the few ones where she is genuinely nice without any sarcastic remarks. She knows how absolutely naked one feels when throwing up and how scarring it feels in that moment. She will try to joke to comfort you.

"Lesson learned: you can't handle this much alcohol. Next time you should alter it with water. But damn babe, look how much your body holds. There's your lunch. What a waste of ten bucks on that pizza, huh? Just breathe, I'm here. I'll take care of you."

Hedwig:

If it had been anyone else, she would have been disgusted beyond measure. But since it is you, she will sit beside you and not let anyone see you, acting like a hawk. If anyone does see you, she will shout for them to leave. Hedwig will shield you from everyone who happens to be nearby while holding your hair, cleaning you up, and feeding you water.

"I know it's disgusting, sweetheart, I know it tastes horrible. You're doing great. You're getting rid of whatever is making you feel like this. It's okay, when you're done, I will get you a mint. You don't need to feel bad, I will always be here."

[bbydoll18xx]

I Can Do It With a Broken Heart

Paige Bueckers x reader

KK tries to set you up on live, and things between you and Paige go south.

Word Count: 1.7k

Themes: angst, maybe some fluff?

This is heavily inspired by my love life, so yes, please feel free to feel bad for me thanks xoxo

~

“And oh, my god, he was so fucking stupid,” you exclaim exasperatedly, your longwinded rant having no ending in sight. “Like you’re literally in college and you can’t even hold a basic conversation? And don’t even get me started on his fucking mustache,” you add, gagging dramatically for good measure.

Hands were flying in the air as you spoke, and the girls of UCONN’s women’s basketball team listened amusedly as you complained about your latest failure of a date. You had promised yourself you’d get back out into the dating world after your two year relationship with your high school sweetheart had ended, but that was nearly three years ago. And now that you had gone through every stage of grief and were now (mostly) mentally stable again, you had begun dating to find ‘the one.’ 

However ‘the one’ seemed to be hiding among the frat boys and useless idiots you had been spending your friday and saturday nights with for the last six months. And you were quickly growing tired of their bullshit. 

“And then,” you dragged out the word theatrically, leaning forward to the group of girls listening, “he told me he wanted to do a line of cocaine off my ass! Like who even says that?”

The girls erupt in a fit of giggles and gasps, disturbed by your most recent date. 

You shake your head in mild embarrassment and place your head in your hands. “I can’t do this anymore,” you sigh, trying to avoid Paige’s stare. 

She was always staring, as if she could tell what you were thinking. And to be honest, it freaked you out because if she actually knew what you were thinking, you’d be in some deep shit.

You had feelings for Paige from the first day you had met her, and the battle was certainly an uphill one at that. A little voice in your head whispered mockingly that the reason you had been going on all these dates was to distract yourself from the harsh reality that Paige was just a friend. Nothing more, nothing less. 

And it really fucking stung. 

KK cuts through the silence, placing a soothing hand on your back. “I know what to do,” she says with a knowing smile. You meet her smirk with a confused look, wondering what the younger girl had in mind. “Let’s go on live and find you a boo!” she exclaims, clapping her hands together.

The other girls erupt in laughter at the idea, nodding their heads in agreement. The only one who is uncharacteristically quiet is Paige, who has a funny look on her face. Her nose scrunches slightly, and because you had spent years memorizing every part of Paige, including her moods and facial expressions, you would almost say she looked pissed.

Glancing back over to KK, you let out another long sigh, throwing your hands in the air defeatedly. “Sure, why the hell not?” 

She whoops excitedly, grabbing her phone and propping it up on the table in front of where the two of you were sitting. She clicks on the live, and it was not long before hundreds of people were flooding in with comments. 

“Hey, y’all!” KK greets the fans with a small wave and a huge grin. You try to hold back a grin of your own, but her excitement was infectious, and you felt grateful that your friends cared about fixing your sham of a love life. 

“We’ve got a special guest tonight,” KK explains, and you wave shyly at the camera. You typically did not love all the attention, and you tended to stay in the background when the other girls would go live. 

“Okay, so boom, we are looking for a date for my girl over here,” KK begins, explaining the situation to the people on the live. “Serious inquiries only!” She adds, wagging a finger towards the camera. “She is precious, and some of y’all are straight up freaks.”

You giggle at her words, trying to read the comments. Many of them we’re trying to gauge your sexuality, and upon reading another ‘is she gay’ comment, you decide to clarify. 

“I’m bisexual,” you murmur shyly. It had been nearly 6 years since you had realized you like girls, yet you still struggled with enunciating the fact. 

“Oh girl, they love you,” KK sings, patting herself on the back for her idea. “How about if y’all have some talent, join the live and woo my girl.”

Paige has since moved from her chair opposite you to sit next to you on the couch. Her leg is pressed up against yours, the warmth of her body radiating onto yours, and you bite your lip. 

“Yeah, yeah Paige is here. This ain’t about blondie today,” KK scolds the fans. “Now I want to see some good talent.” 

You turn your head to look at Paige, and she rolls her eyes at KK. “KK, don���t be mean to them,” she laughs, waving to the live. 

In your head you’re thinking that you honestly can’t even blame the fans. Paige was hot. You wanted to see her too. 

KK lets in the first girl, who upon seeing Paige, shrieks and throws her phone onto the carpet of her bedroom. You laugh, and KK lets out a huff of annoyance, deleting her immediately and moves on to find another person.

“This one seems promising,” she mutters, and you play with a piece of hair nervously. Being in front of the camera felt ridiculous, and you wonder how you got yourself into this situation. You are quickly pulled out of your thoughts by another young girl, desperately trying to serenade you and the other girls with a song. You try your best to avoid cringing, but the performance left you with bad secondhand embarrassment. 

A whole twenty minutes pass before someone promising pops up on the screen. A girl about your age with long dark hair and piercing green eyes is waving flirtatiously at the screen, causing you to sit up a little straighter. Next to you, Paige stiffens, and your eyes flit to her on KK’s phone, jaw clenched in a way that has your stomach rolling. You look down and notice her hand was closed in a fist, the other picking at a piece of lint on the couch. 

You avert your eyes back to the girl who was still smiling widely, and you make casual smalltalk with her, feeling warm from the attention of a pretty girl.

Comments are flooding in, and while you’re glad to see that many of them are about what a cute couple you and the mystery girl would make, you also notice an influx in comments regarding how mad Paige looked.

Before you could look over to check on her, she was flying off the couch and stomping out of the room. You hear her door close loudly, and you meet KK’s eye with a confused look. Paige’s departure has the fans going wild, and you whisper to the younger girl that she should end the live. 

“Okay, y’all, we gotta go. Feel free to DM her, though,” KK tells the dark-haired girl with a devilish grin, and she signs off quickly.

“What the fuck was all that about?” you ask no one in particular, eliciting shrugs from Aubrey, Ice, and Jana. 

“She’s been moody all day,” Aubrey says casually, and you pout, thinking about your best friend who was clearly unhappy about something.

“I’ll go check on her,” you mutter, heading towards the closed door of Paige’s bedroom. Standing in front of it, you take a deep breath before knocking.

“Come in,” you hear her mutter, and you enter the dark room, the only light shining from the tv and reflecting off the glassiness of Paige’s eyes. 

You sit on her bed next to her, placing a comforting hand on her thigh. “What’s wrong?” you ask gently, not wanting to spook her. She rarely opened up about the way she was feeling, and you did not want to rush her into admitting anything if she wasn’t ready.

She shrugs, quickly wiping at her eyes, and your heart nearly crumbles at the sight. You rub soothing circles onto her leg and reach up to wipe a stray tear from her cheek. The intimacy of it all is almost overwhelming, and you bite your bottom lip to keep in the feelings bubbling inside of you, threatening to expose everything.

“Just tired,” Paige mumbles, and you peek at her face, studying the beauty of her features. 

Your phone lights up in your hand, alerting you to a DM you had just received from the girl from the live, and you attempt to hold back a wide smile at her boldness. Paige looks down at your screen as you text the girl, Scarlett, back with a giddy expression. 

“I’m going to go to bed,” she says coldly, already moving to get under the covers. 

“Want me to stay?” You ask hopefully, trying to sound casual. Sleepovers between the two of you had become a cherished ritual, and you needed the simple proximity to make you feel whole again. 

“Nah,” she replies flatly, eyes closed and back turned in harsh finality. 

“O-oh, okay. Well, goodnight,” you stutter, temporarily stunned at her poignancy, and you flee her room with your head hung low in rejection.

“Is she okay?” KK asks. You don’t even know how to answer that.

“I have no clue what her deal is,” you mumble. “She’s never not wanted me around, so I think I’m just going to go. I’ve got a girl to get to know,” you add, trying to make yourself feel better.

“We’ll let you know if anything happens,” Ice responds kindly, and you nod gratefully in her direction before you take your leave.

You ignore the anxiety as you walk back home, instead focusing on the flirty messages Scarlett was sending to you. ‘This is what I need,’ you think. Paige was never going to be yours, and now you finally had a real chance at getting over her. 

With your head held high, you vowed that your feelings for Paige Bueckers would disappear. But would they really? Time could only tell. 

~

Part 2

Part 3

Hope you enjoyed! Let me know if you would be interested in a second part to this!!

[fuctacles]

<< 3 | 4 | 5>>

The storm comes to a head late at night in the form of knocking at his front door. It's muffled, but the space is small enough for him to hear. Confused, he closes his book to have a peek at his porch. He doesn't see anyone, but the weird knocking continues, followed by scratching. That eases his worries immediately and he opens up the door without much thought. Sure enough, his dog friend is sitting on the porch.

"What are you doing here this late?" Eddie asks, looking around as if the owner could show up out of the darkness with pitchforks and accusations. He moves to the side. "Come in, I don't think Steve wants to see me anyway. Leave as much hair as you want." Eddie smiles dryly at the dog.

Without a word, well, obviously, it's a dog, but without even a look in his direction, the dog moves towards his bedroom.

"Came in for sleepy cuddles, huh?" Eddie chuckles to himself. He latches back the door and moves towards the kitchen to grab a snack for himself and the dog. He's putting an extra slice of ham on a plate when a voice startles him, coming in from the closed doors to his bedroom.

Unmistakably human. Unmistakably Steve's.

"Uh, Eddie? Can I borrow some pants?"

Eddie's brain reruns a whole passage on mimics from his monster manual. Then on faeries and demons and goes straight into thoughts of Demogorgons. His walkie is in the bedroom.

"Eddie?"

He does the next best thing and grabs the heaviest pan he can find.

"I can hear you man," Steve's voice comes with a sigh when he approaches the door. "I swear it's me and I'm sorry for scaring you, I'll explain everything in a minute." Eddie lowers the pan. "But I'd really like to be wearing pants while I do that."

The request is weird enough to settle his nerves and finally open the door. And sure enough, there is Steve Harrington, butt-naked save for the blanket he wrapped himself in. 

"What the fuck?" Eddie risks speaking up, his grip on the panhandle tightening. He glances towards his window. It's closed and all the trinkets on the sill below remain untouched. "Where's my dog?" he asks next, eyes dropping to the floor.

"Come on, man." Steve's fingers twist in the fabric of the blanket, and his face is a picture of pure distress. 

Eddie decides to show some mercy and, not taking his eyes off the intruder, inches his way to the dresser where he fishes out that one pair of hand-me-down sweats he's never fully grown into. They should be big enough to fit Harrington's ass. If that even was him.

He throws the pants at Steve, who fumbles to catch them while keeping the blanket covering him up. They stare at each other for a long while until Steve raises his eyebrows expectantly. 

"You gonna turn around or...?"

Eddie shakes his head stubbornly. He crosses his arms for good measure, despite the pan making it awkward and uncomfortable.

"I'm only half convinced you're not a mimic. Or a Vecna hallucination. So no, I'm not turning my back on you," he scoffs.

Steve's eyes widen at the mention of their last demonic opponent. He seems to understand Eddie's reservations a little bit better. 

"I swear I'm not," he says softer, looking guilty for scaring his friend even further than he already had. "I'm sorry for freaking you out," he continues, turning around himself. The blanket drops and Eddie never had another butt-ass naked man in his bedroom before. Golden boy Steve, too, among his band posters and trailer trash glory? A truly poetic sight. 

"I just had to come clean."

Steve bends over and the sweats don't get pulled up fast enough for Eddie to miss the twin moles on his right cheek.

He turns back around quickly, scratching his forearm self-consciously.

"Dustin's right, I'm just making it more difficult than it has to be."

Okay, so maybe involving Henderson didn't backfire as badly as Eddie feared. On the other hand, he had half-naked Steve Harrington, squirming uncomfortably at his place, so it was hard to tell. 

"Well, I'm here and listening, so you can go any moment now," Eddie prompts him, leaning against his desk. He observes Steve open and close his mouth hesitantly, and rolls his eyes. "Okay, kitchen," he commands, straightening up. When Steve doesn't move, he points at the door with his pan. "You go first, I don't trust that you're not gonna turn into something else."

Steve has made half a step when his eyes widen.

"You figured it out?"

Eddie raises his eyebrows, pan twisting in his grip half-threateningly. 

"So you are a mimic?"

"I don't know what a mimic is!" Steve groans, frustrated. "I just turn into a dog."

At first Eddie's ready to scoff, maybe throw the pan at him, but as he studies Steve's expression, he frowns. Slowly, he connects the dots in his brain.

"You've been the dog all this time?"

Steve nods.

"That's why I never saw you? Because you were right there, turned into a fucking dog?" he asks incredulously.

"Yeah," Steve admits, folding in on himself like he wanted to disappear.

Eddie puts the pan aside and starts pulling his rings off, one by one. Steve eyes him warily, and it takes him a moment to speak up.

"Uh, what are you doing?"

Eddie looks him calmly in the eye.

"I'm going to punch you now, and I don't want to cut you up."

Tags: @noodle-shenaniganery @jaytriesstrangerthings @imaginary-maggie-waggie @samsoble

[enehana]

HOO Boys x Reader Baking

Percy Jackson would make a mess. Flour and blue food coloring everywhere. He would intentionally get it all over you. Especially the icing, so he could lick it off your cheek. His mom taught him how to bake. He doesn’t exactly follow the recipe. Percy won’t measure anything out, just pours the ingredients into the bowl and hoping he gets it right. The cake definitely comes out good, but the amount of blue food coloring will kill your kidneys.

Jason Grace unironically wears a “kiss the cook” apron. He follows the recipe exactly. He’d want everything to be perfect. No mess means no extra work. You wouldn’t even have to do anything. Just sit back and watch him work. His hands stirring the batter. He’d decorate the cake so extravagantly you’d be surprised that he doesn’t bake often. Very edible.

Leo Valdez would make the biggest mess possible and set off the fire alarm. Flour and sugar on the floor. Smoke billowing out of the oven. The blaring fire alarm above your heads. Absolute chaos. He’d be laughing and throwing flour at you. He’s not even looking at a recipe. He’s just putting ingredients in at random. The cake would be soggy with frosting. It’s burnt, but oddly good.

Frank Zhang tries his best. He’s not very good at baking, but he’s doing anything to spend time with you. He’d try to follow the recipe, but make little mistakes here and there. He’d clean up so often that it wouldn’t even look like there was ever a mess. The cake would be good, and very pretty. He’d be so much more grateful to be with you than to have cake.

[kitashousewife]

your patience is wearing thin. normally, osamu is the calmer of the two boys. but tonight is a completely different story.

“easy there fella,” atsumu’s got his arm wrapped around his brothers waist, the other holding osamu’s arm around his shoulder as he walks him out of the bar. osamu gives you a sleepy smirk and a wave, which you return.

“and nobody else was available?” you gripe, voice a little hushed as if osamu would hear.

“i tried, i promise. i hate to do this to ya,” atsumu grunts as he slides his brother into the passenger seat, buckling him in despite osamu’s efforts to make it as hard as possible. “i owe ya one.”

the first part of the drive to osamu’s place is quiet, besides the occasional yawn or sigh. it only took a few minutes for osamu to start talking.

and boy, is osamu a chatty drunk. he always has been, and you’ve known him for years. he can and will talk about anything and everything under the sun, with absolutely anyone.

“thanks fer pickin’ me up, m’pretty,” osamu’s accent is thicker after a couple drinks, and he’s had a few tonight.

he’s also a very flirty drunk.

“don’t mention it ‘samu,” you sigh, focusing on the road. you’re almost to his place, but that doesn’t stop osamu.

“so what’re we doin’ tonight?” he rubs his eyes. you hold back a laugh, but not very well.

“you are going to shower, brush your teeth, and go to bed,” you giggle only slightly. “and i am going to make sure you get home safe and sound.

osamu boos.

“ya sound like ma,” he groans, head back against the seat. he gives you a thumbs down for good measure as he looks out the window.

“oh look! we made it,” you pull into his driveway slowly, hoping he stays in the car before you can help him get out without injuring himself.

“hey! that tickles,” he squirms as you try to unbuckle the seatbelt. as soon as you undo it, you help him out of the car and to the front door. osamu fumbles with his pockets for a moment before stuffing the keys in your hand.

“d’ya want somethin’ to eat?” osamu stumbles into the kitchen, slipping off his shoes near the fridge and throwing his jacket haphazardly off to the side. you pick it up quickly, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him towards his bedroom.

“another time maybe, let’s get you into the shower first, okay?”

he shakes his head.

“i can shower later,” his voice is whinier than normal. if he wasn’t being so defiant, you’d almost think he was cute like this. voice whiny and cheeks pink, hair a little messy. the warm feelings dissolve when you see him grabbing ingredients out of the fridge.

“osamu, i don’t think cooking is good idea right no-“

“but-“

you sigh, grabbing the things he took out just to put them back in. you pat his back and nod towards his bedroom.

“seriously, osamu. it’s late, let’s get you to bed. please?”

he groans, but follows anyway. you grab his bicep when he starts to get distracted along the way, and he giggles. when you quirk your brow at him, stops walking.

“ya just wanted to grab my muscles, huh?” he smirks at your flustered expression. “don’ worry, i won’t tell tsum, or anyone,” he smirks to himself before leaning rather close to your lips. “it’ll be our secret.”

you gasp and pull back a little to calm your beating heart. truth be told, you’ve had feelings for the guy for a while now. but for the sake of your friendship, you’ve kept this to yourself, too scared to ruin the dynamic.

“alright, you go and take a shower and i-“

you cut yourself off when osamu pulls off his shirt, as if you weren’t standing right in front of him. your eyes to straight to his strong chest, flushed slightly from the alcohol, before trailing down to his toned stomach. as soon as you reach the trail of hair below his belly button, osamu’s hands begin to push his pants down.

“w-wait! how about you do that when you get into the bathroom?” you push him towards his bathroom, holding a new set of clothes in one hand while your other hand pushes on his back.

“stay here,” he whines as you grab him a towel. you shake your head.

“i’ll be right outside, okay? you just take your time,” you give him a small smile and he finally agrees, turning on the shower. he sings to himself as the water warms up, completely unaware of your presence. the longer you’re in there the more you stare, and unfortunately osamu catches on.

“do ya think i’m handsome?” he smirks, wiggling his eyebrows. you cover your gasp with a scoff, rolling your eyes and pulling his door shut.

“take a shower, osamu.”

the next few minutes you catch your breath, grabbing a glass of water and a few advil for osamu to take, as well as shooting atsumu a text to let him know he’s home safe.

“my teeth are brushed, are ya happy?” osamu shuffles out of the bathroom slowly, clearly very tired.

“very,” you pat his bed. “now just take this, and get into bed,” he climbs into his bed with a comfortable sigh, takes the pills and begins to get cozy. osamu has a look of bliss and exhaustion on his face as he pulls his covers up over his chest.

“are ya leavin?” he pouts when you turn off the light.

“i was going to,” he shakes his head and gives you yet another thumbs down.

“just stay for a bit, please?” he whines, voice beginning to get raspy and sleepy. you sigh, finally giving in.

“okay, just for a little bit,” you lay on top of his bed while he flips over to face you. a few minutes pass by, and his breathing becomes deeper and steadier. you’re sure he’s asleep now, but suddenly he speaks.

“do ya like me?” he whispers, voice almost unsure. you don’t say anything for a few seconds, but he beats you to it. “atsumu told me ya do.”

your stomach sinks, and your mind spins for a moment.

“let’s talk about this another time okay? maybe when you aren’t drunk?”

osamu nods, getting comfortable once more.

“but do ya?” he whispers again, voice much sleepier. “i promised i wouldn’t tell ya that he told me,”

“go to sleep osamu, let’s talk about this in the morning.”

he huffs and flips on his back. only a few minutes later, and he’s asleep.

the butterflies in your stomach are going crazy as you lock up his apartment and head towards the parking lot.

osamu never lies. that’s what you tell yourself the whole ride home, and you hope that as soon as he wakes up tomorrow he gives you a call, remembering everything.

[rhadamanthes]

Passenger princess. Bodyguard!Sukuna x reader

word count: 1,6k

warnings: reader is a brat, so brat taming, hate sex, rough sex, no prep, biting, fingering, car sex, squirting , lot of spanks, one (1) face slap, hair pulling.

"I don’t care that it’s getting late. I'm a grown woman. If I want to spend the night outside I do! » you yell in the receiver.

« Let me make this simpler If your not home in an hour I'm cutting you off and you can go find a job » Your dad counters

You gasp in shock at his word, your free hand comes to your chest in surprise. You never worked a single day in your life and you don't intend to. Guess an early night never killed anyone.

« Well, how can I go home when my car is at the pound? » you say sarcastically 

« I sent someone for you he’s already there »

You turn around and come face to face with a pink haired handsome man. He clearly looks as displeased as you to be here so you decide to test the water.

« Let me guess pink hair, questionable face tattoo and could lessen on the aftershave? tell him to back off if he doesn't want to get hurt » you say hanging up and making your way to the shiny black car.

Resting your lower back on the car you text your friends that you have to go. The brooding man opens the door for you, you take your seat and he closes the door, so fast it almost gets to your foot. you gasp looking at him through the window but he's already making his way to the driver's seat. Pluggin the keys in, he starts to drive away. 

"You almost cut my foot" you warn, looking at his side profile.

"Not of my will, sorry miss" he states uninterested looking at the road

Sukuna reaches for the radio but you swat his hand away. 

"I need silence" you smile softly, meeting his gaze briefly. His grip on the wheel tightens, leather crying under it and your smile widdens. 

You take a sick pleasure in making people angry and he is very receptive if you push a bit more he'll break you wonder what he will do, smiling to yourself you look at the scenery through the window. You sneaked out to go to a party outside the city and your dad was pissed when he found out, he wasn't supposed to, he always goes to bed early. You look at the time 1:18 AM. You sigh, resting your back against the window so you can look better at your babysitter. You know Sukuna is one of your father's employees. He ensures his protection and chauffeur for him sometimes, you don't know the terms of his contract but for him to be available at this hour makes you want to push him to the edge even more. Letting your feet slide out of your heels you extend them to his face. Tracing his tattoos with your toes. 

"It's only good measure for you to kiss it when you almost amputated it" you taunt covering his mouth with your foot. 

Before you can continue your scheme furthermore the car drifts to the side of the road he grabs both of your ankles in one of his large hands. In a blink of an eye he's outside dragging you by your feet. He held you up on his shoulder throwing you in the backseat. You're about to scold him when he squishes your cheeks making it impossible for you to talk.  The tension is so thick it could be cut with a knife, you feel your excitement rush to your panties. He's breathing heavily and his eyes are dark. If it wasn't for his hands crushing your lower face, you'd be grinning ear to ear. 

"I'm not your father and I'm not one of his other lackeys scared of you, so keep going on with your little act and you are walking back home. I don't care if he kicks you out of the trust fund." He says through gritted teeth releasing his grip. 

Working your jaw a few times to soothe it, you slap him across the face "And i don't care that you're different from the other guards, you're still my bitch boy if I tell you to do something you just do, i don't care about your opinion" you state, pushing on your hands to get past him. Before you can feel the cold air he pins you down by your wrist on the leather seat, hovering you with eyes even darker than before.  

"I'm sick of dealing with brats like you and your stupid father." he rasps biting on your neck hard; You wiggle trying to get out of his grasp but he pins your wrist higher to stop you from moving. with his teeth he lift the hem of your dress up to your belly and fuck you're not even wearing underwear. he rest his forehead and you tummy breathing in your scent, it's disgustingly sweet. Letting go of your wrist, Sukuna gets rid of your dress and throws it on the passenger seat. A golden jewel on your nipple catches his attention. He scoffs, reaching for it, but you stop him, catching his hand in yours. 

"It's not healed yet, please don't touch it will get worse" you say, kissing his hands in an attempt to soften him. He crushes your hand in response, you hiss freeing it from his grasp. His index finger comes in your face pointing you accusatively. 

"No more funny shit you get it?" he growls in a serious tone. You nod your head eagerly, excited for what is about to come. "Promise!" catching his slender finger in your mouth. You twirl your tongue around it mimicking a blowjob as you hollow your cheeks and take progressively more in your mouth. 

Sukuna looks at you with furrowed brows thinking you really are a lost cause as he starts to understand you did this in the only purpose to get railed. If this is what you want then. Retrieving his finger from your mouth he positions you on your belly spanking your ass hard. You squeal at the stinging sensation, it only adds more arousal to your wet cunt. He spanks you again on the other cheek. This time you turn around 

"Don't go so hard i have a pool party tomor-" Another spank, He's looking at you with a defying gaze and you just sigh in defeat resuming your previous position. You hear his belt unbuckle and his zipper going down. 

"You're not even going to lick me a bit?" you ask, resting your cheek on the leather seat wiggling your ass to tempt him. 

"Like you deserve it" he spat spreading your pussy lips groaning at the sight of your wetness already leaking. 

You giggle, looking back at his cock, you bite your lips at the angry red of his tip, the veins popping on the sides, you can't wait to feel him inside of you. 

Without warning he enters his full length inside of you and all the air is pulled from your lung. He's filling you so well but his roughness makes it hard to appreciate.  He starts to thrust at a rather slow pace which eases the pain. You slowly start to feel the pleasure, bouncing back on his cock 

"God Suki you do it so well" you moan.

The nickname earns you a spank and you can't help but grin at his easiness to be riled up. Sukuna pulls on your hair until you're against his chest, never slowing down the pace. You grip on the headrest for support locking your eyes with his. 

"Kiss me" you say out of breath. 

The anger can not be mistaken and yet, he dives for a kiss, it feels more like a domination assertance the way he bites on your lips and tongue while keeping your throat in place with one of his warm hands. You moan into the kiss letting your free hand go to his hair pulling lightly on it. He releases your mouth picking up his pace while cursing under his breath. At this point arousal is running down your thigh and you don't care if it stains the leather. Sukuna's cock is kissing your insides perfectly. He tries to be rough but you like it like that, feeling the pleasure escalate quickly inside of you. His thrust gets sloppier, you know he's about to burst.

"Come inside of me please" You beg.

Sukuna grunt at your request, as much as he would like to watch his semence leak out of you he doesn't want to grant you your wishes, the way you danced on his nerves still angers him. He ruts until he's on the edge and pulls out at the last second turning you around to cum on your belly. You're empty and your orgasm has been robbed, the tears prickle in your eyes and when you look up at him, for the first time tonight he smiles, you want to insult him so badly. 

"I'm going to give you a real reason to cry" he coos.

His fingers replace his cock as he curls them up against your g-spot he's rubbing them fast and you feel something that you haven't felt before, it feels like you're about to pee but it feels good too, not wanting to humiliate yourself further you pull at his wrist for him to stop, he only goes faster. Seconds later  you squirt all over his hand and the leather, shaking in his arms as the bliss takes over your body. You moan uncontrollably digging your nails in his skin.  Your eyes are closed, suddenly you want to sleep letting your body slump against his. Sukuna looks at you half asleep in his arms, you almost look peaceful.  He sighs, wiping the cum out of your body and covering you with his sweater. Now that he calmed down he's determined to drive you home before your dad desherite you.

[pedge-page]

Joel Dealing with his Preggo Wife #9: At the Beach

Can be read with others in series or alone

Summary: You're not too confident at the beach with your body, but Joel's got the best remedy

Warnings: Super fluff!! Some sexy time at the end, unprotected sex, car sex, failed sex, fingering, 1 spank, heavier descriptions of pregnant body 

18+ ONLY

- - - -

You complain how hot it is, the grainy sand stuck on on your thighs, the hot sun blistering your sensitive skin, the onlookers you fear are gawking at your enormous size. The fact you have to wear a bikini now despite always having worn a full piece before the baby train docked. But it just wouldn't fit, and you had to buy a NEW (and even larger sized) two piece to accommodate your must larger figure.

 All of it makes you want to barf and hide in a closet. At the very least wrapped up in a towel—but of course, one towel doesn't even cover over your mid section anymore either!

Not that he's complaining. Joel pulls his sunglasses down to the bridge of his nose to let all the light in and, with no shame, gets a glorious look at you as often as he can. You wearing a two piece with your accentuated body now so drastically changed because of him, just absolutely showcasing the evidence of your love making has him struggling to keep his cock down in his trousers. He wants to put his hands all over you and tell everyone yeah, this body? this belly? This woman? You see her? Mine. 

You didn't want to come to the beach. Okay, you did, like, yesterday, when you were scratching his arm off and begging to go sun bathe and wear your new sandals, but clearly, Joel couldn't recognize when you changed your mind last minute in the car ride without actually verbally telling him. He was so busy humming his little 70s tunes on the radio, glancing smiles at you and putting his warm hand on your fat thigh. Completely unaware, despite your reassuring smiles, that you wanted him to turn around right now and go home. Why couldn't the man just read your mind? Why do you have to explain everything to him word for word?

So here you are, a million degrees under the baking sun, sand in your sandals with the whole world of beautiful people apparently on this beach too. You stand there awkwardly, rubbing your arms hoping to shrink down to an ant and scurry away.

Trying to get to your knees is difficult at best, uncomfortable and pathetic, before settling on your bum with that massive tummy in the way of everything. You spread your legs and, fuck, you look like you might as well be pushing this baby out right now in this bloated birthing position. Could they kick you off the beach for looking like this???

Joel doesn’t pay any attention at all. He gets right to being a boy and digging a big hole in the sand like a 14 year old, despite his cracking knees and shifting groans from all the movement he’s got to do.

At least someone here is having a good time.

He carefully scoops the sand with his thick palm, making a smooth, rounded cavern. He even brought a tape measure, which he uses around your tummy first, strangely, and you don't even question it.

Once the hemisphere is dug to his satisfaction, smoothed over with his calloused fingers, he sits back and waves to you. 

You're picking little grains of sand off your moon-sized belly.

He coughs again, and you finally look up.

"Ta da!" He boasts proudly.

You throw your hands up defeatedly at his extremely unimpressive hole. "Okay?"

His lips draw tightly to a thin line, doubt crossing his face. “Wait, just—c’mere. Best part."

He grabs your hands and helps you to lie forward so that your belly has room to dip into the hole. And just like that, for the first time in months, you're lying on your front again.

It’s as if a massive ache in your back is suddenly relieved. "Oh my god! This feels amazing!" You cheer. The pressure your baby had been putting on your lower spine suddenly disappears, and all that weight is so perfectly supported by the carefully measured cradle he dug in the sand. It's been so long since you were in this position, you had dreams of the day you could again.

"Joel, you're—“

"Fuckin' amazin', I know darlin'."

He plants a special cooling pillow in front of you so you can rest your chin above the sand, no strain on your neck.

You sigh loudly, and extremely long, not even aware that it sounds like a pornographic moan.

"Behave, you," he tsks with a raised brow, his whispers tickling your ear.

"Mmmm.”

You wave him off, suddenly enjoying the warm heat of the sun on your bare back.

He lathers your exposed skin with gentle sun screen, massaging your shoulders, neck, sides. He takes special care to realllly rub your butt, 'so you don't burn.' Puts an umbrella over you too for good measure. With the reassuring feeling of Joels hands working out your muscles all over you, the crashing sound of waves in the distance and chirping seagulls, and feeling like you aren’t heavily pregnant for the first time in months, you quickly succumb to a nap.

-

Later when he's got food, double fisting some hot dogs, he sits you up and rubs the sand off your belly with a clean cloth. Joel scarfs the first one down, ketchup drooping down his wrist.

But you’re too distracted, and when you tell him its okay, he eats yours without a second thought. You laugh a little. Poor thing probably got baked under the sun too busy taking care of you.

He chews loudly, jaw working close with the amount of meat and mustard and bread bulging out. You lick your thumb and wipe away the droop of condiment spilling from his lips.

He playfully chases your hand with a bite, growling.

you shake your head. “You fucking weirdo.”

“Mmm. My pretty fuckin’ girl.”

His eyes rake over your body—skin radiant in the sun, so smooth and shiny from the oily sunscreen he had smoothed over you. Like something out of a dream. His dreams, to be exact. Not so appropriate dreams he may have already had after only the first week of dating you, and thinking about the day you might be exactly as you are—pregnant with a his ring on your finger.

Delirious with the sight of you, he leans in and starts kissing you, then groping and suckling alll down to your bloated belly.

"Joel, stop, people are gonna see!"

"Let them see, you're so fucking sexy right now.”

"STOP.” You grasp him a bit more firmly to pull his hungry mouth away from going any further down south. “We're not having sex right now. That's final. Now keep your bad boy parts in your pants.”

He pouts and grumbles, drawing away like a scolded child.

You watch as a group of kids play in the water and laugh, or two young girls collect more sea shells than their little hands can carry. Your hand absent-minded rubs over your belly, wondering what your baby is thinking right this moment. If she had thoughts. If she was listening and seeing through you, and feeling what you might be feeling right now.

Joel watches you. He can see that sense of distant longing in your eyes. 

Remembers when you first started dating, mid 20s and so young, and the first thing you said was you weren't sure about kids. He kind of knew he wanted at least one, but the more he got to know you, the more he was willing to give that idea up if it meant he got to keep you for the rest of his life. It took five years after you got married before he found you trembling but bravely presenting him a positive test, and he had to fight himself to keep all his emotions at bay in case you didn’t want this. You were so quiet, so unreadable. He wasn’t sure if you wanted to talk about it or not. 

Until you both went to your first ultrasound, and from that minute you saw the little blob on the screen, and the nurse said “meet mom and dad!” Your lives changed. The whole car ride home you were babbling excitedly about baby names, the color of the nursery, what your child might look like (you hoped she or he would look like Joel). 

You’re quiet right now like you were that day. He follows your eyes to the scene of all the kids playing together, their parents watching over and encouraging the sandcastle building or warning not to go too far out into the water: a happy family.

"I want more,” you say quietly, not really even addressing Joel as your eyes are stuck forward.

He just chuckles and shakes his head. “Baby, we still are working on getting one. Gotta wait before we can have another."

"I want her to have a sibling,” you mumble, holding your belly with both hands delicately.

He bends down and kisses your hand resting atop your swell. “I’ll give you as many as you want.... so long as it doesn't exceed two.”

Your head snaps back. “Three.”

"If there's 2, then that's 4 of us, which is the perfect number to sit at any restaurant. 4 is right. Plus a normal car sits 4 people comfortably. Do you really want a third baby being subjected to a middle seat?"

"Mini van?"

"We ain't getting a mini van. Over my dead body.”

"Well we can't use the truck!”

"Ya can put a baby seat in the truck."

You giggle at the imagery. "You've thought about this a lot haven't you, Mr. Miller?”

He's going off about why 4 also is the perfect number in most rollercoaster carts, but you can't help but just look at him, smiling warmly to yourself that you get to call this man yours.

“—I love you."

He stops mid sentence. A little jumped, but never surprised by your words. He caresses your cheek lovingly, his soft lips finding yours. "I love you too," he mumbles just hushed enough for only you to hear.

Your foreheads touch, as if you wanted your minds to meld into one. You kiss him again, then again a little more firmly. And more. Again, more—more, again. Until you're making out with him a little too passionately, your hand drifting south to his caress his Daddy belly and his Daddy parts—

He hand grabs your wrist to stop you. “Honey,” he warns. There’s a glint in his eye that is just barely keeping his mature brain functioning. With your tits all swollen and hefty with milk, spilling out of that poor excuse of a bra and begging for attention, along with your ass spilling out of that g-string-looking triangle hiding your more than likely wet flower... He’s unsure if he can't keep his erection at bay if you keep acting like this while looking like this.

"I want you," you breathe, your lips crashing on his.

"I want you too,” he hums between your insatiable teeth biting along his tongue. “But..."

"But?"

"You said no sex at the beach."

"I know. I'm waiting for you to get off your lazy ass and take me in the truck."

-

Joel had never packed shit up quicker in his life. He’s bunched up bottles and towels and sunglasses and whatever junk he had brought all up in a towel with one arm and ran barefoot to the parking lot, his other hand dragging you as you wiggled excitedly behind him. He throws it all in the truckbed and unlatches the door for you, helping you up with a quick smack to your sandy asscheek. He gets in and rolls up the windows. Not bothering to check if anyone is around. 

You pull him close and start shoving his shorts down.

Its hot and rushed and promising—until you quickly realize your baby does not want any truck-fucking business happening because there's no possible configuration the two of you can get in to have sex with the sheer size of your tummy in the way.

He can sense the tears of frustration welling in your eyes, immediately caressing you as he buckles you in and revs the truck to life. 

“It’s okay, its okay, it's okay, we'll have car sex again after she's born, how's that? Just a beautiful girl you are. Too sexy like this. Need to do it on a comfortable bed, that’s all. Can't have ya all to myself whenever I want, huh?"

You nod, desperate to suck up all your tears. Quite frankly you know that you ugly cry, and Joel knows you ugly cry, and you don’t want to ugly cry. You remember that your pussy is wet and waiting to get home so he can spoil you properly.

He continues to adoring rub over your belly, a constant affection of his touch reminding you to stay level. With one hand gripping the wheel, eyes trained forward, he glides down over your naval and urges you to part your legs.

You slip back a bit, giving him the widened access he needs to dip his middle under your bikini bottoms and between your slick folds. You moan loudly, hips arching forward to get more of his finger rubbing along your swollen clit.

“Joooeeeeeel,” you whimper impatiently. He can’t dip any more than an inch of his finger in you due to the stretch of his arm over you belly. Instead, he swipes along your slit, gathering your wetness and smearing it on your nub.

"Ahhh, oh sweetheart, you’re just drippin' me." He retracts his hand and plunges his finger into his mouth, swirling his tongue over and over and sucking your juices clean off with a pop.

You eye his bulge stabbing through his trousers. "I wish I could suck you off right now." You whine, squeezing your achy breasts and hoping he can steal a glance at you.

"Mmm, those were good times, huh?"

You groan, frustrated. Turns out the baby was cock blocking you in numerous ways from doing things you enjoyed in your youth. Your “youth” feeling like it just a few months ago when driving BJs were your favorite way of nearly getting pulled over.

Eventually you do get home, and you throw the seatbelt over. This baby was NOT stealing truck-fucking from you. Not. Today. 

Joel can’t stop your rush. You’re clambering over the dash, knee pressing into Joel’s bulge painfully and elbowing his chest trying to get into a position.

"Okay wait—just—OW! Hon—s-urgghh— HOLD ON.”

You maneuver him to sit at the center of the back seat, with your back facing him and ass hovering over his cock. He’s protectively holding your waist in your squatting position. You sit back slowly, moaning as he penetrates your slit. With both hands on either side of the front seats shoulders in front of you, you begin gently rocking and bouncing.

He holds your belly, guiding you up and down, back and forth on his dick

"Fuck. Fuck, I love you, Joel. I cant wait—nnmmm—to have your baby!"

He grumbles in agreement, watching the space where his length disppears into your sopping cunt and comes back wet and shiny from your arousal.

It feels fantastic after waiting so long, being so pent up and needy for each other since—like 20 minutes ago.

And There's about 18 more seconds of this before you're slowing down. Joel can feel it too: the awkward clench, slipping out of you every few seconds, creaking in the truck's seat, the wet scratchiness of the sand still wedged there, your hand on your back from the pain, unable to bounce on him with the weight of you, the overall struggle that’s paving way for very shitty, very uncomfortable, very unsatisfying sex. You stop altogether and sit in his lap with his cock impaling you, almost casually.

"I'm tired,” you sigh in defeat, out of breath.

Joel just nods behind you. He kisses your shoulder blade and helps you off him.

Baby: 1.

You: 0

“Bed is still open, if ya want it…” you mumble into his whiskered cheek before planting a soft kiss.

His excitement jolts him into a frenzied leap out of the truck. “Bathroom, then bed, and I expect to see your legs spread and naked.”

You giggle and the two of you part in different directions in the house.

Joel quickly uses the bathroom before tripping over his clothes while stripping, eager to finally make you cry about how good he’s going to pleasure you.

Only to find you nestled on the couch curled up with your hand perched under your cheek, drooling into the pillow. Even despite your sunkissed skin, the dryness of your lips from the salty ocean air, the sand you complained between your folds and wedged up your ass by your bikini didn't matter. As the afternoon warm sun bleeds from the drapes lulled you to a gentle rest, secure and safe in your own home. 

Joel kneeled beside you, cupping your cheek soothingly.

"You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."

You stir slightly, smiling with a hazy half conscious state. "I know," you respond cheekily, before nuzzling into his hand again and falling back asleep.

Joel stays there for hours, one hand resting over your belly, just watching the woman he's fallen so hard for, wondering what in the world he's done to deserve such a blessing.

- - - -

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[godmadeaterribleerror]

Chapter 13 - The Terror of Knowing

Series Masterlist

Author's Note: I’d like to dedicate this Chapter to Eric Kripke. This one’s for you. Bitch. Chapter Title from Under Pressure By Queen & David Bowie.

Word Count: 21.6k (I'm crazy. I'm on a roll. I haven't slept more than 4 hours.)

Chapter Summary/Warnings: Ben get's a phone, and Victoria Neuman undergoes big changes. Usual warnings. Also somnophilia? Kind of? You'll see.

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, canon divergence, enemies to friends to lovers, canon divergence, slow burn, fluff, angst, pining

Read on A03!

Chapter 12 - Chapter 14

This was going to be a very long, entertaining day.

You get up early in the morning, sneaking downstairs to grab the phones you’d left abandoned after last night’s fight and subsequent not-fight. Kissing. You’d kissed Ben.

A lot. 

It didn’t feel real. It had been real—you were sure of it—because you woke up on Ben’s chest and could still feel the ghost of his lips on yours. It was real because his arms were wrapped around your waist, and his hands were slightly under your shirt so his fingers brushed your skin. He hadn’t done that before, touched you like that in his sleep. He’d mostly rolled up to you like a very large dog, never touching your skin unless you fell asleep with him already doing so. You’d never been sure if it was purposeful, subconscious, or just something you were overthinking. Just coincidental, simply a byproduct of how he’d essentially throw himself on top of you, tangling blankets and creating natural barriers between your bodies.

But this touch felt purposeful. This touch felt important. Careful and low on your back and different. It was undeniable evidence that last night had been real and not simply another dream.

It took a lot of effort to get out of bed. There was the physical game, where you had to remove yourself from Ben’s grasp without waking him up. It involved slow and measured movements, a lot of stopping and waiting when he shifted or snored a little too loud, and several reevaluations of your methods when Ben just pulled you tighter against him.

Then there was the mental game. Where the question wasn’t could you leave the bed, logistically, but did you even want to? Was it really worth it for two stupid phones? Here you had to convince yourself that you’d woken up to Ben holding you many times before, and this wasn’t any different. This was the same, really. Semantically. You’d be back soon anyway. It would barely be three minutes to go to the living room, grab the phones, and return. But he wasn’t making it easy. He kept bringing you closer, kept making disgruntled sounds when you got a little too far away, and his warm and rough hands on your skin made it hard to do anything that would take them away from you. At one point you were pushing yourself away from Ben’s chest—so close to being home free and able to roll out of the bed—and you brushed up against his morning wood.

You had to take a few deep breaths before you could start moving again.

After a tremendous amount of mental effort, some very strategic and well-timed squirming, and another quarter hour you’d gotten out of Ben’s arms and fallen down to the floor. You’d stood up slowly, tiptoed to the door, and all but ran down the stairs. The phones had fallen under the couch and between the cushions during last night’s events, and you managed to fish them out in only a few minutes. The mission was successful, because you’d gotten the phones in faster than you’d thought you would and Ben was still none the wiser to your absence. Sure, your phone was dead and Ben’s was covered in dust, but you had a charger on your bedside table and Ben would have to just be grateful he got a phone.

Now, you’re climbing up the stairs in soft steps, both phones in hand. When you open the door to your room you start a little, because you see Ben sitting up against the headboard and giving you a frown that borders on a pout, narrowing his eyes at you.

“Good morning,” you say cautiously, scanning his face as you lean against the now-closed door with your hands behind your back.

“Where did you go?”

You blink at Ben’s grumble. “Downstairs? I didn’t mean to wake you-” 

“Why,” Ben snaps, and you realize that—despite the sleep lingering in his eyes—he’s upright, hands clenched at his side, leaning forwards slightly. You can even hear something edged into his voice as he continues. “What the fuck were you doing.”

There’s a warm, humming feeling of need and comfort in your gut. It’s trying to move you towards Ben, to pull the frown off his face with your lips, but it’s not stronger than the spark in your chest. The little, bright desire that makes you feel light. That feeds off of Ben’s deep voice and surly behavior and just him.

“Aw,” you tilt your head at him with a mocking smile. “Did you miss me?”

His frown deepens. “No.” 

“I think you missed me. I think you’re grumpy because you woke up and I wasn’t there.”

His scowl is almost adorable. “I’m not fucking grumpy.” You raised your brows at him with a light, teasing grin on your face. “Shut up.”

You hum. “If you keep whining I’m not giving you your gift.”

“Gift?”

You give Ben a grin. “Guess who earned phone privileges.” You don’t wait for his response before pushing off the door and presenting the phone dramatically. “It starts with you and ends with cunt.”

You throw the phone to him, walking towards the bed as you do, and he catches it with ease. “Brat.”

“Just for that I’m not telling you what your passcode is.”

 “Passcode?” 

“Oh shut up,” you give him a flat look, dropping on the edge of the mattresses. “You know what a passcode is.”

“Phones don’t have passcodes. You open them with your face.”

You snort at Ben’s indignant expression. “Your face?”

“That’s how you fucking open yours,” Ben glances between the phone in his hand and you, holding his gaze as you slowly scooting across the bed to plug your own phone in. “I’m not a goddamn idiot-“

“Then open it.” You nod at the phone, clenched in Ben’s hand. “If I’m wrong, just open it.”

He gives you one last glare, tapping the screen roughly. The phone lights on, displaying a picture of his shield where it's still resting in your bathroom. Ben blinks at the screen, before looking up at you with a frown.

“That’s my shield.”

“I know,” you scan his face, trying to gauge his reaction without touching him. You’d spent an embarrassing amount of time trying to choose a wallpaper for Ben’s phone. A band logo felt weird, you’d considered just a stock photo of the Grand Canyon several times, and there was no way you were about to just put his face there. That would’ve meant scrolling through a lot of old Soldier Boy promotional photo shoots, and you had already missed him enough. That would’ve just been cruel to you. Eventually you’d decided the shield was a safe bet, and just taken a photo of it as a placeholder. He could change it later, but you still really wanted him to like it. Which was annoying, because it was just a photo, and he didn’t even know—nor did he have to ever know—how much effort had gone into it. You’d deleted several angles you deemed bad and shots you thought were blurry. He better like it, because that was fifteen minutes of your life you’d never get back.

Ben looked back at the photo with a frown. “How did you get that?”

You blink. “What, the photo?”

He grunts in affirmation, still staring at the screen.

“I took it?” You say slowly, and he looks up at you.

“With what. How did it get there.”

“With a camera? You’re not that old,” you meet Ben’s surly frown with a small smile, nudging his shoulder. A mistake, because his confusion runs through you with something rough and easy that sits in your chest. “You’ve definitely seen a camera before. You lived in front of cameras.”

 “Cameras are big. I’d have fucking notice if you had one.”

“Welcome to the wonders of modern technology,” you reach over his body, flipping the phone over in his hand and tapping the lenses. “Phones have cameras now.”

 You look back up at Ben with a grin, and find him still watching you. The rough and easy thing is growing strong through where you’re touching, and your faces are a lot closer together than you’d realized.

“So, um,” you can’t make yourself move, the intensity of Ben’s gaze locking you against him. “I took the photo. I can show you how-“ 

From the corner of your eye, you see Ben drop the phone just before he kisses you. His hand moves up, cupping your face to angle it where he wants you, and you let him. Because this is real, and it makes your head spin happily. There’s no noise in your head about trying to notice everything around you and fit it into a puzzle, no reeling about what Ben’s thinking. Because you’re falling against his back, leaning over his shoulder, and his lips are soft against yours. All you feel is Ben.

When he pulls back, he has a smug grin on his face. “I can’t believe it’s that easy to shut you up. I should’ve done this months ago.”

“Fuck you,” you try and snap, but the words come out breathless and lustful. “Stop trying to distract me-“

“You don’t seem to be stopping me,” he winks, and you knee him in the back.

“Shut it. Open the phone.”

He rolls his eyes, but picks it up from his lap. He manages to figure out that you need to swipe up himself, and you feel the tight frustration grow in him when the passcode display pops up. You wait several minutes, letting Ben glower at the screen as he aggressively taps it. That frustration builds in him and you feel it move to coil in your stomach from where you still lean over his shoulder. 

“Ready to admit defeat?” 

“Shut the fuck up,” he grumbles, hitting another set of random numbers with a rigid hand. The words too many failed attempts, try again in 1 minute cover the screen, and Ben’s grip on the phone tenses, enough that you’re surprised the screen doesn’t crack. “What does that fucking mean.”

“It means you don’t know the passcode, so the phone is locked for a minute. If you get it wrong four more times, all the data gets erased.”

He turns his head to glare at you. “Fix it.”

“Say you were wrong.”

“No.”

You shrug, “then I’m not fixing it.”

“Brat.”

“Cunt.”

“You’re fucking annoying.”

“Right back at you, Pretty Boy. Say you were wrong.”

“I was fucking wrong. Fix it.” His voice is low, gravely and annoyed with clipped words, but you can still feel the jagged affection in him. So you smile sweetly, grabbing the phone from his hand as the minute ends.

You’re hanging around him, body pressed right against his back, head resting on his shoulder, and arms reaching around his neck as you hold the phone up for you both to see. “It’s 696969,” you enter each number as you speak. “Easy to remember. I can set up the face thing for you later, if you want.”

He grunts, taking the phone back as you return it to his hand. “What the fuck am I supposed to do with it.”

“Whatever you want, I guess. I put in all the contacts you need, and downloaded some apps-“

“Apps? What the fuck are apps?”

“Jesus,” you mutter to yourself, fully realizing you’re going to have to walk Ben through this like he’s a toddler. “Apps are an abbreviation for applications. You put them on your phone for different things, like texting or entertainment or shopping.”

“I don’t need entertainment. I have you.”

His words, paired with the firm way he says them—like simple and obvious fact—make you feel warm and dizzy, but you just hum. “Then just don’t use it for that. It’s your phone, Ben, you do what you want with it.”

“What do you use it for?” His hand comes up to hold your arm around him as he frowns at you.

“My phone?” You have to clarify, because he’s so close and there’s no way he’s not touching you like that on purpose. Trying to make it hard to focus on anything but him.

“Fucking obviously.”

You whack his chest with your free arm. “Shut up.”

“Answer my question.”

You try to tune out how his hand is starting to rub against your arm, now certain he’s doing it deliberately. “I don’t know, what does anyone use phones for? Texting, music, photos, social media, porn-“

“Porn? You use this for porn?”

“Everyone does. There’s lots of porn on the internet, and the internet is on your phone.”

“What kind of porn?”

“All of it,” you shrug. “If you can think of it, it’s a safe bet it’s on there.”

“No,” Ben tugs you forward a little further, grinning cockily. “What kind of porn do you use?”

You gape at him like a fish. “I, uh, I dunno. Regular porn?”

“You can be more fucking specific than that,” his smile is growing, and you can feel his amusement growing with lust. You have to stop yourself drooling as you respond, because his hunger in your gut is making you thirsty, and his face is so unfairly attractive and distractingly close to yours.

“I am not sharing my porn habits with you, Ben.”

“Why the hell not?” He says your name and it vibrates through you. “I can promise you, it won’t be something I haven’t fucking seen before. If it’s porn, I’ve seen it.”

That makes you snort. “I doubt that.”

The hunger in Ben grows, moving down, down, down into you. “What kind of freaky shit are you into that I wouldn’t have seen, Sunshine?”

“No, that’s not-“ you take a deep breath, because you need to defend yourself, and that’s hard to do when everything feels hot and aching. “There’s like, a lot of porn on the internet. A lot. And I can promise you there’s some shit that even you’ve never seen.”

“Promise?” You can’t meet Ben’s eyes as he teases you, because you can feel the strength of his desire and that alone is making you feel faint and feverish. Looking at him would be counterproductive. “That’s a dangerous fucking promise to make, beautiful.”

“Shut up.”

He hums. “I think you need to prove it.” You don’t answer, still refusing to let yourself look at him, and Ben tugs at your arm slightly. “Can you fucking prove it?”

“It is not my job to prove that the internet has porn,” you manage to mumble, and he chuckles.

“Maybe not, but I think we’re a little fucking past only doing things for our jobs.”

“Fuck you.”

Suddenly, Ben is pulling you around his body, using his hold on your arm to spin you into his lap. His other hand moves up, running through your hair and pulling your head up to look at him, and his whole face is alight with almost ravenous hunger. You can’t look away, even if you wanted to.  He leans forward, until he’s just a fraction of an inch from you, and whispers, “All you have to do is fucking ask, and you can.”

You can’t stop yourself from grabbing his shirt, forcing him forward to close the space between you. This kiss isn’t quite as brutal as last night, but that doesn’t mean it’s not just as desperate. Your legs wrap around Ben’s torso, trying to bring him closer as he tugs at your hair to make your head move further back. His arm is back around you, pushing you up against him as he groans into your mouth, and it makes you moan in response. You can feel him, growing hard against your ass as he sucks on your lower lip, and you’ve never felt a devouring need as strong as the one in Ben that’s climbing through your blood and up your spine. It takes every single sliver and bit of willpower you possess to not just give into him, let Ben just keep going until every part of you is flooded with just him and his body.

It’s just lust, a small voice ringings in your head. Not what you have. Only lust. 

But that sharp and loud feeling in Ben’s chest is still there. It’s pushing against the lust, making it bigger. And he’s right here, and breathing raggedly into your mouth. His muscles are rippling around you, and his whole body is controlled like he’s holding himself back. He feels so good, and all he’s doing is kissing you. It would be so easy to make him feel like this, to return all he’s giving you by touching him where he’s pushing into your skin.

But if you do that, you’ll just be falling further. You’d already failed to stop yourself just tasting him in the simplest way. If you reached down, even if you were just giving him your hand, that would be another thing you’d need to have forever. Another thing that made you need more.

So when Ben pulls back, first just taking a sharp breath before leaning back down for one last, wet, heavy kiss before resting his forehead against yours, you have to chose your words carefully, picking them out and saying them slowly.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?“ You ask, your heart still pounding in your ears.

“Okay with what?” He grunts, and you almost moan just from his voice. Deep and hoarse and just as needy as you feel.

“This being it right now. Not, you know,” you glance down pointedly. “More.”

“Of fucking course I am.” Ben sounds offended, like the answer no is unfathomable to him. “Why the hell wouldn’t I be.” 

“Because, uh,” you lean back a little to fully meet his eyes, your voice unsteady. “You’re you.”

He scowls, and you can feel his frustration return like a train crashing into you. Tight and sour in his chest. “What the fuck does that mean.”

It’s hard to keep looking at him. “You founded herogasm. 40% of what you say is some sort of innuendo. It’s not bad,” your own voice is anxious, because you think, know, that you want Ben—just physically, not to mention the other part—more than he wants you. If this pushes him away, makes him stop kissing you until your mouth is slightly swollen and you’re aching, you’d hate yourself for taking that away from you. “It’s really not. But I just, I can’t do the uh, bigger stuff,” bad word choice, because you can still feel him against your thigh and now all you can think about is shifting to bring him closer. “So I just, I just want to make sure this is enough. For you.”

The sourness is still in him, but his voice isn’t bitter or angry when he speaks. It’s almost stern. “You fucking trust me, yeah?” 

“Of course I do.” The words had barely left his mouth when you answer, your response almost instinctual.

“Then believe me when I say that I’m more than damn fine with this.”

You shake your head. “It’s more complicated than that, Ben-“

“No it’s not. I want this, you want this. I’m not going to lie and say I don’t also want to fuck you, because I’m not a damn pussy and I really fucking do.” He pushes his hips upwards to emphasize the evidence against you, and you have to bite down a whine. “You don’t have a goddamn clue how fucking bad I want you. But I’m not going to make you do a damn thing you don’t want.”

“I do want,” your words are weak, and you can’t stop them falling out of you. “Want you. I want you. But it’s just, I can’t-“

“Is this enough for you?” Ben says your name, scanning your face with that look that strings every piece of you apart for him to have.

No.

“Yes.”

He nods roughly, moving you a little further up against his chest. “Then stop asking stupid questions.”

Being so close to him makes every part of you a little higher—a little—and it’s easy to say, “make me.” 

Ben laughs, and it’s loud and smooth and comfortable. “Brat.”

You open your mouth to say something, probably, but any and all words are forgotten when his mouth slams back into yours. In only a heartbeat his arms tighten under yours as his knee is pushing you further upwards by your ass, standing up off the bed with one steady and fluid movement. You can hear the sound of his phone falling to the ground, but can’t really bring yourself to care because Ben’s dropping his head to your neck and sucking at it as he walks you backwards, sitting you with surprising care against the dresser. He’s running his hands up your back, into your hair, holding you still while his mouth finds your collarbone. Kissing a line across it and making you moan right into his ear-

A small, annoyed sound escapes your throat when he pulls back with a lazy grin. “Yogurt and toast?”

“Wha…” You trail off, your brain struggling to return to speech in the fog of Ben still holding your thigh and tracing a thumb across your cheekbone. 

“Yogurt and toast.”

“I heard you,” you frown. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Ben moves forwards just a quarter-step, and you’re made aware of the fact that he’s standing between your legs. “Breakfast. What the fuck else could I be talking about.”

“I don’t know, I just wasn’t thinking about breakfast.” 

“What were you thinking about?” 

You shove at his chest, and he doesn’t even pretend to be affected. “Fuck you.” 

“I could’ve guessed that,” Ben winks, and your whole face becomes heated. 

“You can’t just make that same joke every time I say that,” you manage to grumble. “It’s not going to get funnier.” 

“It’s not supposed to be funny, it’s supposed to make you horny,” he scans your body slowly, leaning into his, thighs pressed together, hands grabbing at his shirt. “And I’d say it’s doing its job real fucking well.”

“Fuck-“ you scowl as you cut yourself off. His eyes return to yours, glowing with the smug, satisfied feeling you can feel near his gut. You stick your tongue out at him as a backup plan, which immediately backfires because Ben nips at it quickly before kissing you one last time. It’s messy and long and the moment you completely give into it he’s gone.

“Get changed,” Ben tells you as he walks towards the hallway door. “I’ll meet you downstairs.”

“You’re a fucking tease!” you call after him, and his snort echoes through the house.

It only takes you a minute to change, time that is mostly spent collecting yourself and checking your now-charged phone. There’s a testing message from Mallory that you give thumbs up to, a simple hi from Kimiko you respond to with a smile, and a very long and detailed text from Annie about the details of Stand Edgar’s deal that you decide to read later in favor of Butchers more to-the-point words.

William Butcher: Worst Boss Ever

Soldier Boy’s blasting Neuman for Edgar. Need a day to set it up, then we move. Can’t let word get to her.

You pick Ben’s phone up from where it had landed just under the bed, and make your way downstairs. Ben is waiting for you in the kitchen, sitting at the counter and glaring at the doorway before he sees you. His mouth opens to say something when you come into view, but before he can you’re throwing his phone to his face without warning.

He catches it—You’d hadn’t bothered to worry about if he would, because you’d see him catch a knife out of the air while stomping up the stairs—and gives you an annoyed frown. “You changed too slow.”

“You didn’t give me a time limit,” you walk around to sit beside him as you speak. “Butcher says they only need a day before we move on Neuman.”

“I don’t give a shit.”

“Lovely. Open your phone.” 

“Why,” he grumbles, and you shrug.

“To prove you were listening and remember the passcode.”

Ben rolls his eyes, but glares down at the device in his hand. You watch in amusement as his face draws into a focused frown, angrily smashing the numbers on the display with his forefinger. When it unlocks he looks at you with a self-satisfied grin. “Fucking piece of cake.”

“Uh huh,” you give him a mocking nod and smile. “Now send a text.” 

“A text?” 

“If you’re such a tech savant, send a text,” your smile becomes genuine and toothy as his eyes narrow at your teasing. “One, simple fucking text. Whatever you want, to whoever you want.”

Ben holds your grin with his glower before glancing back at the phone. “Whatever I want?”

“That’s what I said. I can help if you ask very nicely.”

Ben looks back at you, his expression remarkably determined. “I can do it my fucking self. Shut up and eat your breakfast.” 

Only as Ben’s pushing the food closer towards you—attention now entirely focused on the phone—do you see it. He’s put yogurt on a plate, something that he’s done several times before and seems to have no interest in stopping, no matter how many times you tell him it’s just plain weird. There’s a slight improvement in that he has made some sort of attempt to separate the yogurt from the toast, laying the spoon between them in an attempted barrier. The result is almost nothing, if anything now you just have to deal with a yogurt-covered spoon, but it’s still confusingly heart-warming. The gentle feeling that grows in your chest is only spurred on by glancing at Ben’s plate—hardly touched and forgotten in front of him—and seeing that he has just a little less yogurt than you and that there’s no jam on his toast.

“Ben?” you ask slowly, and he grunts in a signal to keep talking. “Where’s your jam?”

“What the fuck are you talking about. Is this slang I’m supposed to learn, because I’d rather you shove a fucking bomb up my ass-“

“It’s not slang, dummy. Your literal jam. That you always put on your toast. Where is it?”

“We ran out.” 

You stare at your own toast, almost drowning in red jam. “And the yogurt?” 

“What about the yogurt?”

“You barely have any.”

He’s not looking up as he responds, “Out of that shit as well.” 

You blink at him. “We got groceries yesterday.” 

“It’s not my goddamn fault Mallory’s a terrible fucking shopper-“ 

“No, I don’t care about that. I can just text her later. Why’d you give me all the stuff?”

“You need to eat.” Ben’s answer is flat and bored.

“So do you. You have the metabolism of a hummingbird-“ 

That makes him look up. “A hummingbird?”

“They have famously high metabolism, they have to eat two times their body weight daily. But that’s not the point-“

“Why do you know that?” He sounds bemused, frowning at you.

You give a half-hearted shrug. “I don’t know, why does anyone know anything. Ben, you need to eat as-“

“You know so much weird shit.” You can’t read his tone, and have to fight the urge to touch him and find out if he’s annoyed or bored or amused-

Shaking your head, you manage to move on. “You’re trying to distract me.” 

“Maybe.” Ben’s shoulder nudges yours. “But it’s not my fault it’s real fucking easy to do it.” 

You’re gaping at him a little—he’s looking at the phone again with a thin-lipped frown of concentration—because all you felt when your shoulders connected, arms brushing, was simple affection. Pure and sitting in his chest and head like air. It’s making the small voice reminding you not to try and make this go further harder to hear, making you need to know more. You’re about to say something, push him for what he meant by his comment, why he put the extra food on your plate, maybe circle back to the question pounding in your head of why are you okay with just this. I’m glad you are, I’m unspeakably grateful, but why. You shouldn’t be. Fucking hell, Ben, I’m barely okay with this. I haven’t told you why I need this, not really, so why in living hell are you happy with just this?

But your phone buzzes before you can. 

Ben looks up at you with a pleased, cocky smirk. “Check your phone, Sunshine.” 

You pick it up off the table—angling the screen away from Ben so he can’t see his contact name—and glance up at his straight, self-satisfied posture and smug face before you read his text. 

Benjamin: Handsome Fucking Dumbass Cunt

You look hot when your being annoying 

You read it a few times before you look up at him. “You used the wrong you’re. It should have an apostrophe, it’s a contraction.” 

“That’s all you have to say?” 

“What am I supposed to say?” You raise your eyebrows at him. “Thank you?” 

“Or that I’m hot. Return the fucking compliment. I worked hard on it, and texting is fucking stupid.” 

You roll your eyes. “Your compliment sounds like you're a teenager who just found out his dick wasn’t just for pissing.”

Ben frowns, picking up his phone again. You watch him type at little faster this time, still one finger at a time but with an almost zealous focus. Your phone buzzes again, and he looks up at you with an intense gaze and speaks with sharp words. “Read that one.”

You sigh, but do. 

Benjamin: Handsome Fucking Dumbass Cunt

You are so beautiful that if I got to fuck you a thousand times it would only make you more beautiful so I’d keep fucking you forever 

You stare at it for a second, because it’s so shockingly sweet and graphic it’s making your body incredibly confused. Half of you is moved, and wants to kiss him gently and smile at him until he says something like that again. The other half want him to fuck you right here, then on the floor, then in the hallway, then on the stairs, and on and on until you’ve covered the whole house.

“Better?” He grunts, and you look up at him with a heated face.

“Yeah, um. Yeah.” You give a dry laugh. “And here I thought I wasn’t your type.”

That makes him scowl, and his voice is an annoyed grumble. “What made you fucking think that.”

“For one, all my teeth are real and I can walk without a cane.”

Ben’s face becomes a little lighter. “I fuck one old lady in front of Butcher and Cocksucker and all you dumbass idiot pussies think I only fuck old ladies.” 

“No, I just think it’s hilarious.”

“Well, you’re not a fucking idiot,” He mutters, and your smile must look downright insane.

“And your compliment game is getting better by the second,” you bite into your toast, speaking through crumbs. “Am I allowed to teach you about internet slang? Or are you going to shove a bomb up your ass.”

“You’re allowed to do whatever you fucking want, Sunshine,” Ben shrugs.

“So that’s a yes?” 

“I didn’t say that.” 

You roll your eyes. “Ben,” you exaggerate his name in your drawl, leaning forward as you swallow. “If I were to try and teach you about the internet, would you listen to me or be a huge fucking baby about it.”

He rolls his eyes. “I am not a fucking baby-“ 

“I said huge fucking baby.” 

“Shut the fuck up. And you couldn’t make me learn about internet slang if you cut off my dick,” Ben winks. “Which, as I’ve been damn telling you, would hurt you more than me.”

“I don’t think you know how pain works,” you mutter, taking another bite. 

“My point still fucking stands.” 

You examine Ben carefully. “What if I asked nicely? Would you listen then?” 

“No.” 

“What if I said please.” 

“I don’t care.” 

“Why not?” You pout. “What if I said it’s important to me?” 

Ben snorts. “This isn’t fucking important to you.” 

“You don’t know that.” 

“Yeah, I do.” Ben leans forward until he’s only a breath away. “You just want to try and teach me shit. Even though it never fucking works out for you.” 

“Really?” You hum. “Because you just sent me a text on a phone, Pretty Boy. Could you do that in December?” 

“You sure think mighty high of yourself, Sunshine. I could’ve figured it out my goddamn self.” 

“I think highly of myself,” you smile, moving close enough that your lips are brushing Ben’s but never fully touching. “Because I’m right.” 

Ben grunts, staring at your mouth like he can will it to be closer. “Brat.” 

You don’t miss a beat. “Cunt. You know, I wouldn’t just teach you about slang. I could show you where to find the porn.”

“I thought that wasn’t your fucking job?” 

“It isn’t,” Neither of you will close that final gap. You’re not touching, but you can feel the heat from Ben’s body, hear his breathing turn heavy. “But I can see a few ways in which it could benefit me.”

Ben’s eyes shoot to yours, and his voice is a growl. “Like what.” 

“I could tell you, or just show you,” you twist your face in mock concern. “But that would be teaching you and that never works out for me-“ 

You know you’ve won—the game you’d fallen into and the argument—because Ben kisses you. Rough and consuming, pushing his mouth to yours with a feral sound and holding your jaw with a firm hand. You let him pull you closer, relaxing into his touch and taste and smell and everything. It’s all just Ben. Picking you up with one arm, standing without ever parting from you, letting your hands scratch at his back and neck as he only kisses you more. You might be grinding against him because he groans, and his grip starts to crush you into his body. You whimper when he bounces you further up his body, making you angle your head down to stay connected to his mouth. To keep that hunger eating you in the best possible way. To keep the roar in your heart climbing up into your head and making everything so simply Ben. Coffee and salt and strawberries and Ben. 

He pulls back so abruptly you whine, and scans your face with narrow eyes. “We’re going to try something.” 

“How specific,” your grumble is breathless, but your glare at least feels strong. “Are you going to tell me what that means?” 

“If you would be patient for once in your damn life, I’d have told you already.”

“Fuck yo-“ His splits into a wide grin, and you know you didn’t cut yourself off in time.

“That’s actually a part of this, Sunshine.” Ben starts to walk out of the kitchen, still holding you slightly above him. “Aren’t you just a fucking genius.”

You frown at him. “I thought you were okay without-“ 

“I told you to stop fucking asking that,” Ben snaps, squeezing his grip around your waist and on your thighs. You can feel the resolved stone feeling running around you with that same bitterness from before. “You told me you trust me, prove it. Stop asking stupid questions about if I’m okay with this when I obviously fucking am.” He stops in the middle of the dining room. “Understood?” 

“Understood,” you mumble, and Ben rolls his eyes before kissing you again. This one is quick, and even though it only lasts a second you’re still burning when he pulls away. 

“Try again, like you actually fucking mean it this time.” 

Even as you wrinkle your nose at him, your voice becomes louder and you believe you more. “Understood.” 

“Good,” Ben nods, but still doesn’t let you go. “We’re going to do a new reward system.” 

You blink at him—your head still in a little of a daze—unsure if you heard correctly. “What?” 

“No more favors. You keep using them for stupid shit like TV and making me read.” Ben’s face scrunches in disgust at the very memory of books. “This will be more effective anyway.” 

“You still haven’t told me what this is. It might be dogshit. It might get you burnt a lot today.” Even as you snark at him, you have a feeling you know exactly what he’s talking about. And you will never tell him that he’s right. If this is going where you think it’s going, it will definitely be effective. 

“It’s not,” Ben lowers you down his body, not letting go until your feet are steady on the ground. “And I’m not too worried about burns. We’re not working on that today.” 

That catches you off guard. “We’re not?” 

“Nope,” Ben leans down to your eye level with a wide, cocky smile. “You’re going to sing, whatever the hell you want, and you’re going to control it.”

“I can’t-“

“Yes, you can.” Ben’s tone is firm. “You will. Even if it takes us a hundred goddamn years, you will.”

You want to argue. You might just literally not be able to control it. That might simply be a part of the power. But Ben also said a hundred years. A hundred years that you would get to have him. So you can only mumble a protest of, “I really can’t control it now. I might, uh, make stuff happen you don’t want to see.”

“What could I possibly not want to see,” Ben says, giving you an incredulous look. “Sex? Death? Torture? Which of those do you think would make me gasp like a pussy grasping their fucking Sunday pearls.” 

“That’s not what I meant, you dick. It might be emotional. More than just lights and dancing. Intim-“ You stumble over yourself, because that word might be too much. “It might just be parts of me you don’t want to see.” 

“I think I’ll fucking manage,” Ben drawls, and you sigh. 

“Benjamin-“ 

“Don’t Benjamin me,” Ben snaps your name. “There’s not a thing you could show me that would make me walk away now. You burn, I burn. Not controlling this is something that makes you more afraid Homelander.” 

Not a question, but you nod nervously. “I guess, yeah.” 

“Then we’re going to make it better.” Ben takes a large step back, and you tilt your head at him. 

“You still haven’t actually told me what the new reward system is.” 

He winks, “do one thing on purpose, and I’ll let you teach me two things about my phone.”

“You’ll let me?” You scoff. “That feels like it’s more beneficial to you than me.” 

“Well, I’ll also suck on your beautiful fucking face until you’re begging me to fuck you. And then I won’t, because I’m a gentleman. And you wouldn’t be of sound mind.” 

“Cunt.” You grumble, and he just shrugs with a smirk. 

“Brat.” 

“How will you know I did something on purpose?” You cross your arms, wrinkling your nose at him. “I could just lie.” 

“What a good fucking point,” Ben says your name, grin never dropping. “This is why you’re the brains.” 

“I thought I was the beauty. You were very bitchy about that.” 

“You’re all three, and I’m the pimp. Tell me what you’re going to be trying to make happen.”

You scowl. “I don’t fucking know, I didn’t have time to prepare an idea-“ 

“It doesn’t have to be fancy. Just whatever pops into your damn head.”

“But-“ 

“We can fight about this all fucking day,” Ben shrugs. “Or you can say what you’re thinking in three, two-“ 

“Strawberries!” You blurt, glaring at him. “Fucking strawberries.” 

His brows raise. “Strawberries?” 

“You said whatever pops into my head. I’m making a grocery list, fucking sue me.”

“You think you can make strawberries work?” Ben watches you, trying to pick you apart with slow words and a stupidly handsome face. 

“No. Because this won’t work.” 

He rolls his eyes. “Can you fucking try to make it work?” 

“Maybe.”

“Then get a move on.” 

You cross your arms. “What the hell am I supposed to sing?” 

“Whatever the hell you want,” he grins. “But could you let me know ahead of time if my clone will be joining us?” 

“Shut the fuck up,” you snap, and Ben laughs, leaning back against the wall. “Are you just going to watch me?” 

Ben shrugs, still smiling widely at you. You told me to shut up. Deal with the consequences, Sunshine.

You stick your tongue out at him, flipping him off at the same time, and he just snorts. 

It takes you a full minute to choose a song. Can’t do a sex song, can’t do a romance song, can’t do any that opens up the chance of Fake Ben showing up again. Not when Real Ben is watching you on the other side of the room and might explode if his ego gets any bigger. Can’t do a song about pain or abuse, can’t do Smash Mouth, can’t do anything that makes you think of Homelander. You could do a recession-type pop song, but that just feels weird.

There’s—as there always is—an easy and obvious solution. Moon River. You know, at least in theory, what will happen. Ben knows the song, knows about what it means to you. Moon River, plain and simple. 

You don’t bother trying to look at Ben when you start. You have no interest in seeing him, seeing his reaction or demeanor as you do this. So you chose a scorch mark on the wall, glue your eyes to it, and sing. Quietly at first, but you find a rhythm and it builds until your voice feels clear and strong. The instrumentals kick in faster this time, smooth guitar and strings and cymbals. The changes to the world are a little different this go, however. You’re not in your childhood bedroom, but a distorted version of the safe house bedroom. The horse paintings are blurred, and it’s not clean anymore—small signs of both you and Ben scattered across the area in shirts and towels, a book on your nightstand and a ben’s supe suit across the bed—but it feels more comfortable. More natural. The sky does open again, flooding the area with light from stars that are a little closer than they should be, and you can feel a warm breeze moving in from above. You can smell pine trees and rain and coffee and the ocean and strawberries- 

Strawberries. The song is almost over and you haven’t even tried to make strawberries appear. You could write off the smell as your attempt, Ben doesn’t know how this works and you could likely sell it, but you want to win. You don’t want to trick him and come out on top. You want to win and fucking earn it.

Which is really annoying. Cheating is easier.

You try to focus. Strawberries. Maybe a field of them, maybe just a large vine of their flowers that climbs up the wall. Anywhere they want to be, as long as there’s strawberries. But no matter how hard you think strawberries. All across the room, or on the floor, or sprouting out of your face, strawberries, nothing happens.

The song draws to a close, and the world fades back into you and Ben in the dining room.

“It didn’t work,�� you say flatly.

“Go again,” Ben pushes off the wall, walking to sit in one of the less-than sturdy chairs in the corner of the room. “We’ve got all fucking day.” 

You sigh. “It’s only 10:30.” 

“And we’ll be here until you get this.” 

“You’re a fucking cunt.” 

“You love it, brat. Go again.” 

You scoff, even as your heart becomes a little faster in your chest, and start the song over. This time, you glare at Ben the whole way, and nothing happens. 

“Again.” 

It takes seven hours. You don’t bother changing the song, half because you’re stubborn and half because it’s established a clean pattern of events. Bedroom, instruments, sky, wind, comfort. Over and over and over, slowly becoming more solid, the images and sensations in less of a haze. It’s not purposeful, so you haven’t won, but the practice is—annoyingly—making you stronger. Ben notices, you can tell by his stupidly pleased smirk, but doesn’t say anything. Around 1, he leaves the room with only a short order for you to keep going and returns with two bagels. He passes one to you wordlessly, and when you drop to the floor—eating with your legs crossed beneath you—Ben scoffs. But he also lowers himself to your side, inhaling his bagel with his knee pressed against yours and a hand on your thigh. You can feel that content, smooth and effortless in Ben’s chest. Flowing in time with that stone resolve wrapping around you, around him. Neither of you speak—you don’t really feel like you need to—and when you finish your bagels within seconds of each other, Ben squeezes his hand once before standing and returning to his chair.

It’s 5:30 when it happens. You’ve been at this all day, you’re tired, but you kept going and going and now, when your illusions have become a clear and perfect replica of the world, it happens. A single strawberry flower, sprouting in a glowing rainbow mist on the mattress. You can hear Ben’s chair squeak when he sees it, even if the sound only echoes distantly over your orchestra, and you almost stutter to halt in shock. But when you push forwards—voice becoming a little frantic, a little off-pitched—the plant grows. Overtaking the bed, covering the sheets and pillows until it’s all green leaves and blooming red fruit.

When the song finds its natural conclusion, you look over at Ben with wide-eyes. He’s staring at where the bed was, now dissipated into a colorful mist through the dining room. 

“How the fuck did you do that?” His voice is gruff, looking at you with an intense, unblinking stare.

“I don’t know, it just sort of happened-“ 

“Can you do it again?” 

“I don’t know, Ben.” You rub your face, your eyes becoming heavy. “I’m tired-“ 

He stands so suddenly it almost makes you start. Without warning Ben crosses the room, picks you up, and carries you out of the dining room.

“What are you-“

Ben cuts off your mumbled protest. “You look like shit.” 

“Rude,” you grumble, shoving his chest. “You’re the asshole who made me work all day.” 

“And I’d fucking do it again,” Ben holds you a little tighter as you climb the stairs. “You got stronger. You controlled it. And now you’re going to take a shower, because you look like shit.” 

“Again, that’s rude-“ 

Ben kisses your nose, pushing the door to your room open with his foot. “Beautiful shit. But shit.” 

“You’re real lucky I don’t kick your ass, Pretty Boy.” You huff, and Ben chuckles against you. 

“I don’t think you’ve got the energy to kick anyone’s ass right now,” Ben drawls your name as he sets you down on the mattress. 

“And whose fault is that?” 

Ben ignores you. “Go shower, Sunshine. I’ll bring up dinner, and then you’re going the hell to bed.”

“You’re a dick, Benjamin!” Your voice raises to a half-hearted shout as he leaves the room, and you can hear the amusement in his voice when he shouts back.

“Fucking shower!” 

You roll your eyes—sticking your tongue out at the empty hallway—but stand and walk to the bathroom. Not because Ben told you, but because you’re sweaty and gross and somehow sore despite only standing. It’s a tight feeling running along your muscles, stronger under your arms and circling your forehead, aching behind your knees. You take your time with the shower, letting steam fill the room and simply standing in the hot, gentle fall of the water until you hear Ben’s loud steps re-enter the room.

When you leave the bathroom, changed into a sleep shirt and your hair wrapped in a towel, Ben’s standing tall and rigid in the middle of the room. There’s a plate of something that might be spaghetti in one hand, and your phone in the other. 

“You got a text from Hughie,” he grunts, passing you both the plate and the phone. 

“Oh, what did he-“ you stop yourself, looking up at Ben with a gaping smile. “Did you just say Hughie?” 

“Shut up.” 

“No, no. You said Hughie. You’ve never called him Hughie.” 

“Shut up,” Ben mutters, stomping past you to the bathroom. “I’m going to shower.” 

You set the plate down on the dresser, spinning to grab his arm. He stops, turning to look at you with a glare, and you push through the haze of his care and hunger and annoyance and there’s that strange tightness again- “Are you okay?” 

Ben scoffs. “I’m fucking fine. I’m not a weak-“ 

“Pussy, I know. You’re being grumpy again.” 

“I’m not grumpy.” 

“Uh huh,” you raise your brows at him, letting disbelief coat your voice and cover your face. “Why’d you call Hughie his name?” 

“Am I not allowed to call people their damn names?”

“Not when you’ve only called them Cocksucker before.” 

Ben yanks his arm from you, taking a long, labored breath before grumbling, “That kid is the only one of those pussies who seems to genuinely mean it when he says shit. I can respect that.” He walks into the bathroom, glancing back at you once. “Read his fucking text.”

You stare at the door for a second after it closes before picking up the fork Ben had stuck into the spaghetti, taking a large bite as you open your phone. 

Hughie Campbell: Not Allowed to Speak On Fall Out Boy

Are you okay? Just wanted to check after all the Tek Knight shit.

I’m really sorry about that. I should’ve pushed Butcher.

Kimiko wants to know too, but she threw her phone at The Deep during a fight and it broke. 

You smile softly at the screen. 

I’m good. Really. I’ll see you tomorrow for Neuman.

Tell Kimiko I hope she kicked The Deep’s ass. 

“Ben!” you call, knocking on the door. “The shower’s not on, I know you can hear me!”

“What?!” He snaps, opening the door just enough for you to see his bare chest. 

“Um,” you swallow, trying not to look further down. “Do you want ice cream?” 

He scans your face. “Vanilla?” 

“Sure, old man,” you grin, and Ben scowls. 

“Shut the fuck up.”

He starts to close the door, but you stick your arm forward to stop him. “Thank you.” 

“You fucking volunteered to get me the ice cream, I don’t have thank you-“ 

“No, you dumbass.” You whack what you can reach of his shoulder. Mistake, because powerful heat and desire and something loud that makes everything sharp pieces through you. “I’m saying thank you.” 

He frowns, leaning forward a little. It takes active effort not to drop your gaze. “For what.” 

“The food. Bringing my phone up,” you give him a teasing grin. “Sitting with me tomorrow for internet lessons.” 

Ben snorts, opening the door to stand fully before you. By some sort of miracle, his pants are still on. He lets go of the door for a second, cupping your face in his hands and he examines your face. “Fucking brat,” he mutters, and you scoff. 

“I’m starting to you’ve forgotten my name-“

He all but picks you up off the ground, and this time he’s gentle. Every part of this kiss is soft, from his mouth to his hold on you. It’s long and careful and so tender it might break you. When he pulls back, he draws circles along your cheeks, smirking down at you. 

“Two things,” he says your name in that low, deep way that makes everything spin a little. “You get to teach me two things. If you try to pull three on me, the sucking face is off the table.”

He retreats back into the bathroom, closing the door, and you’re left dumbfounded in the bedroom, swaying slightly to nothing at all.

You go down stairs after inhaling your spaghetti, returning with two bowls of ice cream. You sit on the bed as you eat your small helping, having put practically the remainder of the pint in Ben’s bowl, which is waiting for him on the dresser. Taking the infinite amount of time provided by Ben’s shower, you run over the day in your head, trying to pin-point what had changed. How you had controlled it. Any small shift in the late afternoon that you could use. Implement further. But it only devolved into you playing Ben’s words and actions on loop in your head. How easy he was touching you, like it was the most absurdly natural thing for him in the world. How quickly he had, you had, fallen into the habit of it. Because it was natural. It was easy and everything, and you’d expected it to feel different. To be tense, or awkward, a strange dance you didn’t know how to navigate.

But it felt the same. Your thirst was stronger, trying to take root in your brain and make you pull Ben into you, but everything else felt the same. 

And that was terrifying. 

You hear the shower turn off, a chew at your tongue as you stare at the door. The moment it opens, Ben walking through with wet hair falling across his eyes and a bare chest, you speak. Because if you don’t blurt out your words now, you’d just get lost in him and his stupid face and stupid body and he smells so good- 

“What if I fucked a dog?” 

Ben stops in the middle of the room, staring at you in confusion. “What the actual fucking hell are you talking about.” 

“You said there wasn’t a thing that could make you walk away. What if I fucked a dog?” 

“Did you fuck a dog?” 

“No, that’s just an example.” 

“Why the hell is that your example?”

“I don’t know,” you shake your head nervously. “That’s not the point. If I did fuck a dog, would you that make you walk away?” 

He snorts, picking his ice cream. “Are you going to fuck a dog?” 

“No, but that’s not the point-“ 

Ben says your name, bumping your thigh with his as he sits at your side. “If you fucked a dog I would have a fuck ton of questions. But I wouldn’t walk away.” 

“Really?” 

“I might check you into an asylum,” he shrugs, taking a large bite of ice cream. “But I’d make sure it’s one that offers conjugal visits.” 

You give a flat look. “I would not attend conjugal visits with the man who checked me into an asylum.” 

“You’re the one who fucked a dog in this scenario,” he speaks through his mouthful, and a little ice cream dribbles onto his beard. “I’m just being a responsible, upstanding citizen.” 

That makes you laugh. “Oh, fuck off. You’ve never been an upstanding citizen in your life.” 

“I work for the CIA, Sunshine.” Ben says smugly. “Not much more fucking upstanding than that.” 

“We both work for the CIA,” you try not to stare at where drops of ice cream are smeared on his face. You want to lick them off, but you are also not moving first. “And, as I’ve told you before, we don’t actually work for the CIA. We don’t get paid.” 

“We need to fucking talk to Mallory about that,” Ben grunts. “We’re carrying her whole pussy fucking team on our backs. We deserve to be paid.” 

“What part of legally dead still isn’t getting through to you?” 

“The part that means we don’t get paid. It’s fucking exploitation.” 

You snort. “Yeah, you’re really suffering in this arrangement. All you get is a free phone, free internet, free food, and a free house.” 

“And you,” he winks. “Free you.” 

That makes your whole body loose and hot. “Shut up.” 

“Are you going to show me porn tomorrow?” He muses, ignoring you. “I’ve well fucking earned it.” 

“Fuck you.” 

This time it’s purposeful. This time you can’t stop staring at Ben’s full lips, covered in vanilla, or stop leaning into his study, warm body. This time you’re setting him up, dangling the bait in front of him, daring him to take it. 

He does. 

Ben tugs you forward until you’re tucked right at your side, his arm around your shoulders so his hand can tilt your mouth up to his. You don’t hesitate to lick his lips when they find yours, taking the sweetness of the sugar combined with just him onto your tongue. Saltier, stronger, better than anything you’ve ever tasted before. He bites your tongue lightly when you do it again, pushing back with his own until you whimper, your hand darting to his face to try and get more. You’re vaguely aware of Ben setting the ice cream to the side, and suddenly he’s pulling you down, then over his chest once he’s flat on his back. You slide one hand into his hair, letting your weight rest entirely against him and grinding down on his abdomen until he groans your name. His hand grip your hips, stilling you completely, tugging you down just enough that you can feel him hard, prodding into your thigh. 

Ben looks down at you, eyes hooded, voice gravelly. “If you don’t want more right fucking now, you need to stop that.” 

Nothing is more difficult than nodding, trying to get a hold of your body and not just letting yourself crash forwards. Letting Ben take everything. “Sorry-“ 

“Don’t apologize,” he snaps, moving one hand up your back until it’s holding the back of your head, running fingers through your hair. “Never apologize to me.” 

You smile at him, toothy and careless. “Even if I fuck a dog?” 

He snorts. “Way to ruin the fucking mood.” 

“It’s a talent.” 

Ben lowers your head onto his chest in a slow movement, and you don’t stop him. When he speaks, you can feel his voice everywhere. “I think it’s bedtime for you, beautiful.” 

“Just because I ruined the mood?” You mumble a protest, but he’s warm and secure around you. Making you sleepy. 

“Because you’re actively fighting to stay the hell awake. Sleep.” 

You try to keep arguing, but all that comes out is an incoherent hum. This might become a problem, how if Ben just kisses you and holds you, your body will listen to him more than it ever listens to you. But it doesn’t feel like one now. It just feels safe, surrounded by the smell of pine and still tasting vanilla.

Just before your eyes close you feel Ben press one last kiss to the top of your head, and that’s all it takes for sleep to find you. 

You’re on the floor of the dining room, Ben above you, your hands scratch his back as he laughs against your mouth. 

“Ready for more, Sunshine?” His voice rolls through your whole body, and you nod almost manically. 

“Yes. Fuck, yes.” 

He pulls back, watching you lust-blown eyes, and everything is life and green and good and Ben. “Beg.” 

“You dick-“ 

He leans down so his nose is bumping yours. “Convince me you want everything. Beg.” 

“I hate you.” 

“No, you don’t. Try again.” 

Dignity doesn’t really feel important right now. Not when you want everything. Not when Ben is offering. Offering everything. “Please. I want this. I’ve wanted this. Just fuck me, you fucking cunt.” 

He chuckles, kissing around your mouth. “That’s not very nice.” 

“Please fuck me. I want you, Benjamin, you insufferable asshole. I want you, I need you, I-“ 

That’s all it takes. He’s falling back onto you, into you, almost eating you because he’s everything and why did you even bother trying to fight that. Who cares if you can’t go back. Why would you even want to? You just want him, and now you have him, and he has you. Right now he has you, and maybe he wants to keep you the same way you want to keep him. It’s just you and Ben, and nothing else is real except you and Ben. 

You’re woken suddenly by Ben bucking up into you. When you blink away the fog of sleep from your eyes, he’s fast asleep, still holding you with his head pressed back into the pillow. You’d somehow moved up his body in the night, finding your head on Ben’s shoulder, your face pressed into his neck. 

He’s not having a nightmare. There’s no building light or heat in his chest, no pain or distress moving from his body to yours. Only hunger. Vast and aching hunger that moves between your legs. A deep, growling sound leaves Ben’s mouth, paired with another rough jerk into the air and his hand fisting into the ends of your hair. Then he moans, right into your ear, and any lingering drowsiness is burned out of your body. Because that moan was long and borderline incoherent, but it sounded like a word. Like your name. And this time when he pushes his groin into the air you can feel him, long and hard, poking against the lowest curve of your ass. 

Someone is out to get you. Some hidden facet of the universe has an agenda against you, because Ben is having a sex dream and moaning—as far as you can tell—your name. Because his sex dream just woke you up from your sex dream. About him. And you’re still horny and wet and thirsty and he’s hungry and his cock is only inches from where your desire for him is becoming painful. And to top it all off, Ben’s holding you against his body with such a confusing combination of reverence and strength that not a single chance you can wiggle away without waking him. 

And if you wake him, there’s nothing in the world that could stop you from giving every single part of yourself to him. So you have to ride it out, unable to fall back asleep, as Ben continues to fuck the air against you. Making the most pornographic sounds you’ve ever heard, sounds that echo through your body from where you’ve pressed your face into his neck, and leave imprints in your gut and heart and head. This qualifies as torture, you decide, because right now if Ben asked you any question, you’d tell him whatever he wanted to hear. You’d do whatever he wanted you to do. Anything to make him give you relief. Anything to turn this into something you don’t have to endure, your brain running wild with fantasies of giving Ben everything and him offering you even half as much. 

You’re dizzy with lust and need—your thirst fed by Ben’s unyielding hunger—when he finally makes the best sound you’ve heard in your life and satisfaction crashes through your body like a wave. Ben’s grip on you loosens, and you frantically roll off of him, climbing out of bed and moving to the bathroom on long but quiet steps. Locking the door, you fall to the floor and shove one hand into your shorts as the other raises to your mouth, biting down to stifle your moans and breaths of Ben’s name. Your back presses to the wall—unable to care as the fire starts to seep out of your skin—fingers moving fast against your clit because there’s not time for anything else. Not when you feel like you’re about to explode, and the aftermath of Ben’s own desire is still planted in your body. 

You double over when you cum, knees shooting up to your chest as you stare at the floor, eyes wide and heart racing. When your basic cognitive functions return—the chorus of just Ben fading into the back of your head and the smoke clearing the room—you realize that’s never happened before. You’ve never felt someone’s orgasm like you’d feel anger or joy or fear. To be fair, you hadn’t been with anyone since the empathy had become a part of you. Except Homelander, and that didn’t count. 

Some evil, loathsome part of you still goes there though. Back to the lab, where Homelander would- 

You can’t think about it. But he’d done it. After the empathy. And you hadn’t felt it. 

You’d also never felt pain from someone. Not like when you touched Ben in a nightmare. But Ben’s emotions were weird. You couldn’t decipher them on a normal day. This probably wasn’t something to note or worry about. Not worth dwelling on at all, not when you were already tearing yourself apart trying to figure out what the massively repressed, ancient man-child in the other room wanted from you. What you could afford to give to the impossible, frustrating, perfect man you- 

It wasn’t something to worry about. 

Collecting yourself off the floor, you realized you couldn’t go back to bed. You were wide awake, and even if you weren’t Ben had definitely stained the sheets, enough that he’d notice when he woke up. Guilt started to stab into you, because Ben might not have meant you to be there. That was private, his, and you’d just jerked off to it. You’d tell him. You had to tell him. But not right now. When he woke up.

So you move silently back to the bedroom, grabbing your phone before creeping into the hall and descending into the living room. You fall onto the couch, reading the text from MM, telling you that they’ll be at the safe house around noon. You give it a little thumbs up, and try to distract yourself from how remarkably horny you still are.

It’s another hour and half before Ben wakes up and walks down the stairs, his hair messy and eyes blurry as he squints at you. 

“How long have you been up?” Ben’s voice is hoarse, and he’s not moving to the couch, standing rigid at the foot of the steps. 

You shrug, playing it off in the way you’d been rehearsing over and over. “A few hours.” 

“What woke you up?” He’s still watching you intently, looking slightly more awake.

“Um,” you can’t lie. It feels wrong to lie. You couldn’t have moved or stopped it, but he needs to know you had been there. “You?”

“Me?” 

“You had a, uh, a wet dream? And weren’t letting me go, and I would've tried to go, because you were asleep, but you’re really strong and weren’t letting me go. I’m-” 

“Don’t say sorry.” Ben grunts, and finally walks to sit beside you. “And I don’t give a shit. It was about you anyway.”

“Oh.” You hadn't expected him to just say that, but you probably should’ve. “That’s doesn’t mean I get to just stay though-”

“Maybe not. But you didn’t chose to, and I don’t give a shit.” Ben leans back into the couch. “I’d fucking tell you if I did. And it sounds like you didn’t have a choice.”

“I’m still sor-”

Ben says your name firmly. “You told me. That’s what fucking matters. No lies.”

You nod slowly. “No lies.”

“You done freaking out?”

“I wasn’t freaking out-”

“I get why you were, with the shit that happened to you.” Ben shrugs. “But if I was worried about you seeing that I’d sleep in my old room.” Suddenly his eyes narrow at you. “It didn’t hurt you, did it?”

You answer fast. “No, I uh,” you shake your head. “No.”

“If it did, you need to fucking tell me. I know you don’t want more-”

“I didn’t mind,” you mumble. “Really. Promise. And it’s more complicated than not wanting more. I kind of, um.” No lies. “I liked it.”

His eyes flash. “Liked it?”

“Sorry-”

“Don’t fucking apologize.” Ben looks you up and down. “What did you like?”

“All of it.”

“How much.”

Stupid fucking handsome man and his deep voice that makes you answer. “A lot. I um, took care of myself?”

His voice is somehow deeper, and he won’t look away from you. “Took care of yourself?”

“In the bathroom-”

“Did you cum?”

You swallow. “Yeah.”

“Good,” Ben grins, and you think he’s going to keep pushing. “I changed the sheets.” 

“Oh?” You feel a little lighter—it’s a little scary how easy this all is, how fast you feel better—and your tone becomes teasing. “Without me asking? Who even are you?”

“Shut up. I’m not making you change my cum sheets.” 

You poke Ben’s side with your foot, grinning and the disgruntled sound that escapes him. “You kiss a man a few times and suddenly he’s doing chores without being a bitch.” 

Ben catches your foot, yanking you forward until your legs are across his, leaning down until his smirk is hovering above your slack jaw. “You didn’t kiss me just a few times. You just told me you liked me dreaming about you. And as far as I recall, I owe you one more. But a pussy fucking bitch wouldn’t give you what you want, Sunshine, would he?” When you don’t respond, just staring at him in some sort of horny shock, Ben leans just slightly forward. “Would he?” 

“Cun-“ 

Ben catches your words with his mouth, and you gain just enough control to snap at his tongue between your teeth. Not biting it off, but drawing enough blood that the metallic taste overtakes the taste of Ben. He pulls back with a hiss, and you cross your arms across your chest. 

“I told you I’d do that, Pretty Boy.” You taunt. “You have no one to blame but yourself.” 

He gives you an incredulous look, but you can feel his sharp amusement, and his hand has dropped to hold your thigh over his legs. Tracing small patterns on your bare skin. “You’re a piece of fucking work,” he says your name in something that sounds like awe, and something is leaving a mark inside you, on your ribs. 

“Would you have me any other way?” He snorts. “Fucking hell, no.” 

You smile at him, and he smiles back, and if the world ended right now you wouldn’t mind. Not when this is everything. “Good.” You lean back into the armrest of the couch, your eyes never leaving Ben’s. “Ready for your lesson?” 

“Right now?” Ben raises his brow at you. “It’s 8 in the goddamn morning.”

“And we have a long, busy day of internet lessons and hitting Victoria Neuman with your special sauce ahead of us. Might as well get started now.”

Ben glares at you. “Don’t call it special sauce."

“Hm,” you pause in mock thought. “No.”

“Brat.”

You knee his chest lightly. “Go get your phone, Benjamin.”

With a series of low grumbles and a strong pout on his face, Ben removes your legs from against him and stands, disappearing back up the stairs. You hum to yourself, foot tapping as you wait for his return, and don’t even realize what you’re doing until Ben’s voice sounds behind you. 

“Why does the whole room smell like vanilla.” 

You feel the flush of your face, freezing as you tip your head back to meet Ben’s eyes. “I dunno.” 

“Did you leave the ice cream out?” He walks back to his seat, glaring at your legs pointedly until you press them to your chest. “Because I could smell it upstairs as well.” 

You give an over exaggerated sniff. “Well, it’s gone now.” 

“No it’s-“ Ben pauses, scanning your body and face as his nose twitches. “You were fucking singing.” 

“Maybe,” you mumble, hugging your knees. “Shut up. Did you get your phone?” 

Ben scoffs, but shakes his hand, displaying the phone. “Your faith in me is astounding,” he grumbles your name, and you sit up a little with your shrug. 

“I know you’re being a dick, but yeah, it is.” You lean against your bent legs. “Open the phone.” 

He starts to enter the passcode, but looks up at you with a frown. “Are you going to stay over there?” 

“Um,” you blink at him, and shake your head slightly. “No?” 

He doesn’t say anything, just waiting expectantly for you to scoot over to him. Only once you do—thoroughly invading Ben’s space as he pulls your legs back up, making you half on his lap and half pressed into his side—does his attention return to the phone. When he opens it—after three tries, but who’s counting—Ben looks at you with a cocky grin. “That it?” 

“Nope,” you lean over him, taking the phone from his hand. “We’re going to learn about cameras.” 

“I fucking know about cameras-“ 

“Well, you clearly don’t, because you looked like you were going to have an aneurysm about your lock screen yesterday.” You swipe through the phone, keeping it in Ben’s view, and find the camera app. “That,” you point to the screen, finger hovering over the small, gray button. “Is the camera.” 

“That’s not a fucking camera,” he snorts. “That’s a button.” 

You roll your eyes. “And what, Benjamin, do you think the button does?” 

He scowls. “Shut up.” 

“Answer my question.” 

“Camera.” Ben’s answer is through gritted teeth, but—as far as you can tell from where you’re touching him—his annoyance is more for show than anything else. So you keep going, holding the phone a little higher up. 

“Press it,” you prompt him, shaking the phone slightly. 

Ben does so, his aggressive tap of the screen pushing your hand back slightly. The camera opens up, flipped to the self-view, and Ben starts backwards. “Why the fuck is it doing that.”

“It’s the front view.” 

“Why in living Christ would you need a front-view.” 

“For selfies.” 

“Selfies?” 

“Photos of one’s self,” you explain, not bothering to hide the amusement in your voice. “It’s pretty self-descriptive.” 

“Why would you need that.” 

You sigh. “It’s not something you need to do. Most of this isn’t going to be stuff you need to do. It’s for fun.” 

“For fun,” Ben repeats slowly, still sounding like he doesn’t believe you. 

“Yep. And I think you’d like selfies. You get to pose, and stare at yourself. It’s right in your wheelhouse, Pretty Boy.” 

Ben huffs. “What would I do with them?” 

“Whatever you want,” you shrug. “Jerk off to them, print them out to hang around the house, post them on social media-“ 

“Social media?” 

“I am not explaining social media to you today,” you say flatly. “Cameras are already going to be a lot.” 

“It looks pretty fucking simple from here,” Ben grumbles, pulling the phone from your hand. “That big white button takes the photo, yeah?” 

“Well, yeah,” you try to push down a giggle as he presses the button repeatedly, taking a large amount of selfies from a low angle. He’ll still probably look hot in all of them, because he’s Ben and life is unfair, but that doesn’t make it less funny. “But there’s more to it.” 

He stops, giving you a frown. “What the hell do you mean more.” 

“Turn the camera.” 

Slowly, Ben angles the phone so you’re looking at your reflection on the display. 

“No,” you reach up, returning the screen to face him. “Turn the camera. It can switch between the front camera and the back camera,” you tap each one in turn for emphasis. “So switch them.”

He does. After almost eight minutes of swearing under his breath—and very much not under his breath—Ben finds the right button and flips the camera around. From there you make him stand, take several photos of random objects until he can do it without totally messing up the focus, then teach him about zooming. That takes a whole half hour, because he can’t seem to figure out how to get any sort of middle ground, either going all the way out or zooming in for far you can’t even tell what he took the photo of. You forgo filters, that’s a battle you don’t have the energy to take on today, and instead focus on flash—how to turn it on and off, when it needs to be on and off—and video. That one takes two hours. 

You start to wander the house, taking him to the kitchen and explaining how food photos work. 

“That’s fucking insane,” Ben mutters as you conclude your small speech. “Just eat the damn food.” 

“You’re still going to eat the food, this is for the memory of it. So you can look at it later and remember hey, that was a fucking delicious quiche.” 

“That dumb.” Ben snapped. “Just remember shit with your fucking brain.” 

You snort. “You’re going to hate Instagram.” 

“What the hell is Instagram.” 

You don’t explain or elaborate, simply linking your elbow through his and pulling him into the hallway, up the stairs. From there you spend a while in the bedroom, making Ben take photos in lower lighting to practice the flash and teaching him about mirror selfies. He takes that one a little easier, though it results in a lot of sex jokes about how mirrors are for two hot people fucking and how he’d be open to showing you what that means, beautiful, if you say please. 

When you enter the bathroom, making Ben take about three or four videos of the running water, you notice he keeps looking at his shield. Before you can ask what he’s doing it for, he looks at you in the mirror, “How did you put it on the screen?” 

“The shield?” You ask for clarity, even if you know what he means. He grunts, and you continue. “I set it as your wallpaper.” 

“How?” 

You pause, narrowing your eyes at his reflection. “If I show you, it doesn’t count as part of my winnings, because you asked.” 

“Fine,” Ben thrusts the phone into your hand. “Just do it.” 

You do, Ben hanging over your shoulder as you navigate to settings, then wallpaper, then slowly walk him through the functions. Eventually—after another hour or so of pointless photos and videos—you feel a little more comfortable in his capabilities, maybe even bordering on confident, and tug him back to the couch. 

“That’s thing one,” you take the phone back from Ben’s hand, scrolling to the app store. “Ready for thing two?” 

“That was more than one fucking thing,” he snaps. “That was a least damn fifty.” 

“Nope. That was just cameras. I get one more.” 

“Not if I just walk the hell away-“ 

“Ben,” you look up at him. “Just trust me. You’ll like this.” 

He scowls, but waits for you to return the phone to his hand. Ben’s eyes scan the screen for a second before he looks back up at you. “What the fuck is this.” 

“Candy Crush.” 

“What.” 

You scoot a little closer to him, resting your head against his arm as you look up at him with a smile. “It’s a game. Senior citizens everywhere love it.” 

“I am not-“ 

“Yeah, you are.” You dismiss him, drumming your fingers against his skin. “It’s a silly, stupid game with bright colors and an addictive design. It kills time, and-“ your grin grows until it’s toothy and covering your face. “If you spend money, it’s out of the CIA’s pocket.” 

“Spend money?”

“In-app purchases. You fail a level, pay to try again.” 

Ben says your name, a long drawl that sits in your stomach. “I am not playing this shit.” 

“Sure,” you shrug. “But if you change your mind, the app looks like that.” You return to the homescreen, pointing at the logo. 

“Doesn’t matter. I won’t fucking use it.” 

“Okay.” 

“I’m being serious.” 

You grin. “And I said okay.” 

“Brat.”

You stick your tongue out at him. “Cunt.” 

Ben drops his phone to the side, attention entirely scorching through you. “You want the second half of our deal?” 

“Yes,” you answer a little too fast, and your voice is suddenly weaker. You blame Ben’s lust, climbing into you, intertwining with your own, sitting happily in your gut and above your lungs. He’s almost on top of you, and you can see just a slight ring of green in his eyes. Watching you, coming closer. Closer, still closer. But not close enough.

You don’t think Ben could ever be close enough. Not when he finally touches you, not when he sucks on your mouth and tongue and neck like he’d promised, not even when he fully rolls on top of you. Because everything in the world is nothing compared to this. Just Ben. Touching you. Close, but not close enough. 

Your alarm from your phone barely breaks through your ears into your brain, because all your thoughts are being overtaken by just Ben. 

“Fuck,” you manage to pull back, grabbing your phone to turn off the repetitive ringing. “We need to get changed.” 

“Changed?” Ben frowns, still holding you. “The hell do we need to get changed for?” 

“Neuman,” you start to stand up, but Ben’s hand falls to grab yours, keeping you from leaving the couch. “The Boys will be here in like twenty, Ben. Probably more like ten with Butcher’s lack of respect for speed limits and police.” 

“And you’re coming on this one.” He scans your face, hand squeezing yours. 

“Yeah, I should be. We shouldn’t really be in public for this, so I don’t see why I can’t.” Ben nods, but still doesn’t let go, so you squeeze his hand back. “I’ll be fine. But we need to change.” 

That seems to get through to him, because he nods, rising from the couch. Still holding your hand. “You change first. I need to shit.” 

“Charming.” 

You start to move away, but Ben doesn’t let go of your hand, spinning you around into his chest. This last kiss is long. He’s taking his time, pulling you closer and closer, not stopping until you whimper, and then pulling back with a smirk. “You have seven minutes.” 

It takes a few seconds of blinking away the burn under your skin to understand what he means. When you do, though, you shove his chest and stomp up the stairs, yelling over your shoulder. “You’re a piece of shit, Benjamin.”

He doesn’t respond, but when you look back for only a second, he’s smiling after you. A toothy, content, easy grin that makes his eyes sparkle and face look like all he’s ever felt is joy. Never any cold Russian nights or sour, consuming revenge. Just joy. Warm, simple joy. 

You’ll never tell him. He’d hate that you used the word sparkle, because he’s a fucking man and not a glittery pussy, but it’s accurate. And it doesn’t matter, because you’ll never, ever tell him. You’ll keep him close, but not as close as you want, and touch him until he grows bored of you, and taste phantoms of vanilla and salt and strawberry forever. You’ll have him like this, and make it be enough. This will be enough. Because Ben is everything, and you don’t deserve everything. He wouldn’t give you everything anyway. 

So you’ll have this. You’ll have his joy and let it carry you everywhere. And that will fucking be enough.

————

Ben had never been so satisfied by just kissing. He didn’t think it was fucking possible to be this satisfied by just kissing. But it was Her. And she was perfect. Kissing Her was perfect. Hell, he’d even start to develop a strategy for how to kiss her. Ben was filing away every sound she made—the loud whines and quite whimpers and moans, and this one thing where she’d make a throaty, high noise that was half his name and half a squeal—and spending a lot of time trying to figure out what triggered each and every one. If he sucked on Her neck she’d make a hissing, needy sound. If it was her chin, the noise would become more breathless and she’d lean into him. If Ben was gentle the sounds were soft, when he let himself go just a fucking fraction, they were loud and desperate. 

He wasn’t going to stop until he had it all memorized. Until he knew every single thing that made Her tick and why. The why was fucking vital, because if Ben could figure out why She liked something, he could find a million new ways to do it. And keep going and going until She was singing for him, and he could play Her perfect mouth—and whatever part of her perfect body she’d offer him—like the symphony it was. Where he was the only conductor in the world that wasn’t a pretentious fucking pussy, because his orchestra was the most fucking perfect woman to ever exist. And then, unless She made him, he wouldn’t ever stop. 

Because kissing Her was addicting. Ben had thought that touching her was like a drug, but She had an annoying habit of making Ben look like a fucking idiot. If he hadn’t been so absorbed in touching Her before, he could’ve seen this coming. He could’ve realized that just brushing against Her skin was better than any kiss he’d ever had. He could’ve put together that kissing Her would feel like goddamn sex, hot and wet and savage, the most natural thing he’d ever done. Kissing Her made the Thing so big that it was no longer just in Ben’s chest. It was all over him, rooted where it had always been but burning through the rest of his body. 

If just kissing Her did this, made Ben become overtaken with an almost pious desire to keep going forever and ever, actually fucking Her might kill him. 

And he was okay with that. It would be a worthy death. 

She was still upstairs, and Ben could hear the even pattern of Her heartbeat as she changed, hear the shuffle of clothes falling to the floor and moving in the drawers. She was probably fucking naked up there, just a floor away. The Thing wanted to go to Her, just fucking offer more. But he wouldn’t because She didn’t want more right now. Ben didn’t have a goddamn clue why, not when She was kissing him back and fucking cumming to the thought of him. The Thing had almost exploded inside him when She’d told him that, and Ben was trying to just pretend he was very calm about it and not trying to figure out ways he could keep Her doing that without hurting her or pushing her away. Even if he couldn’t figure out why that was needed. She seemed almost as desperate for more as Ben was. Not as desperate, because that wasn’t fucking possible. Ben felt pretty fucking confident in saying that nobody had ever been this filled with need for another person in history. But everything he was throwing at Her, she was throwing back at him. Like she always fucking did.

Because She was perfect. 

The door to the safe house opened before She returned to the living room, and it occurred to Ben that he still needed to shit. That he’d been standing at the base of the stairs like a goddamn idiot, waiting for Her like a fucking puppy. He could only be more pathetic if he was right outside her door. If a single member of the Pussy Brigade commented on it, asked why he was just standing around like he was lost, he’d tie their tongue into a knot then cut it out. 

He heard Butcher first. “You two twats ready to go?” 

Ben glared at him down the hall. “Obviously we’re fucking not.” 

“Did MM not fucking text like I told him to?” Butcher’s eyes raked over Ben, taking in his sweatpants and wrinkled shirt. 

Wrinkled from Her, the Thing hummed in content. She did that. 

Ben told it to shut up. He was well fucking aware of that, and didn’t need the Thing to remind him, because it made him hard and he had no interest in explaining a boner right now. 

MM entered the safe house, saying Her name as he walked to stand beside Butcher. “Got the text. She even gave it a reaction.” MM scanned the living room with a frown. “The hell is she?” 

On perfect fucking clue—Ben was starting to think She had a fifth power that made her do everything better than anyone had any damn right to—the bedroom door opened and She descended down the stairs. 

“Ben, where the hell did you put my sunglasses? Because I definitely left them on the dresser and they’re not there anymore-“ She froze at the bottom of the stairs, spotting Butcher and MM. “Uh, hi.” 

“Afternoon, Love.” Butcher looked between Her and Ben, a taunting smirk tugging at his lips, and it took everything in Ben not to step forward and block Her from Butcher’s gaze. “You ready to rumble?” 

“Um,” She looked at Ben, addressing him solely, and it made the Thing swell through him. “Can you change fast?”

He nodded, shrugging. “Whatever.” Ben started to push past Her, but she caught his arm. Still only looking at him. 

“Sunglasses?” 

Ben knew exactly where those sunglasses were. They’d fallen under the bed yesterday morning when he’d swept half the dresser's contents to the floor to put her down, and he’d seen them this morning when he’d been cleaning up his mess. He’d cum in his sleep like a fucking teenager, and moved faster than almost any other point in his life to cover it up. But Ben didn’t say any of that out loud, because he didn’t know if She wanted the Pussy Brigade to know that he’d been eating her mouth like a feast for two days and fifteen hours. Ben didn’t give a shit if they did, he’d fuck Her in front of them if it made it clear to them that he wasn’t going anywhere. But this seemed like the type of thing She’d care about, and he didn’t want to risk her taking away what she’d given him so far. 

So he just said, “I think I remember where I put them.” And retreated to their room. 

Ben gets the sunglasses first, propping them back up on the dresser where he won’t be able to miss them when he leaves. He shits quickly, puts on his supe suit—if the Pussy Brigade had a problem with that they could suck his dick—and stared at his shield in the bathroom for a second before deciding to leave it. He’d just be blasting Neuman and leaving, no damn point in taking it where Cocksucker would try and pick it up again. He checked his hair in the mirror, and failed to not think about fucking Her against it. Or fucking Her on the bed. Or on the stairs. Maybe in the kitchen. Defiantly during training, and if she ever made good on Her promise to show Ben porn-

He grabbed the sunglasses and stormed back downstairs, shoving the Thing and his desires to let it—Her—keep consuming him deep, deep into him. Ben had a fucking job to do. She’d still be there to dream about fucking until the bed broke after. 

She was waiting for him, talking to Kimiko in silence with a smile splitting her face. MM had left, Butcher was watching them with a look like he’d tasted shit, and Ben didn’t think anyone would miss the asshole if he somehow got slammed, face first, into the wall over and over. Especially as She heard Ben’s step, looking up at him with the same smile she needed to stop giving him. The smile that Ben couldn’t stop himself from reading as oh, it’s you! Hello, Benjamin. I adore you and if you wanted to give me every fucking piece of you, covered in blood or not, I’d take them and keep them safe. 

But that didn’t sound like Her at all. For one, she’d never say every fucking piece of you. She might say every part of you, or all of you, good, bad, and ugly, but she wouldn’t say every fucking piece of you. Ben would say that. 

Also, She didn’t think that. She gave a shit about him, Ben knew that much, but she didn’t adore him. Not like he adored Her. She didn’t want to keep him safe, not like Ben needed Her to be safe. The Thing would keep every bloody and dark part of Her safe if she’d give them to him. It would hold them carefully until she wanted them back, and then care for the place She’d put them until they returned. 

So Ben just took Her smile as best he could when he wasn’t allowed to pull it up to his mouth, make it open into a moan, and keep going and going up he learned what Her orgasms sounded like.

If She ever let him hear what her orgasms sounded like, it would take a damn miracle of God to stop him from hearing them every single fucking day.

He took Her smile, returned it with his own, and passed her the sunglasses. “Found them under the bed,” he grunted, stopping at Her side. 

“Oh,” She frowned, opening them and placing them on her brow. “I thought I checked there.” 

“Did you say the bed.” Butcher’s voice was mocking and cold, but lined with what Ben pinned to be genuine, morbid curiosity. “Are you two sharing a bed.”

Ben is more than fucking ready to cut out Butcher’s tongue. Maybe stab him in the throat to finish damn the job. But She speaks first. 

“Yeah, we are. Because some of us have nightmares about Homelander raping us and feel safer when we're not alone. So shove it up your ass.” 

The Thing was boiling in Ben. Overflowing with warmth and power for Her. Her, Her, Her, it chanted, making the continuing conversation a little fucking hard to hear. Ben could see Her look at him from the corner of her eyes. Giving him the tiniest smile that says thank you for not leaving me alone. 

Ben couldn’t stop himself smiling back. Wouldn’t fucking dream of it. You’d be lost without me. 

She wrinkled her nose at him. You can’t even use a phone camera without my help. 

Not anymore, he winked. And you have not one to blame but your damn self for that, Sunshine. 

She stomped on his foot, hard enough that he sort of feels it, Ben had to cover his snort with a cough. 

Butcher wasn’t fooled. “Something funny, Gov?” 

“Not to you, you boring fucking pussy,” Ben drawled. “Are we going to actually fucking go or just wait for you to jerk yourself off?” 

“Suddenly his head is in the game,” Butcher sneered. “I wonder what fucking did it?” His gaze turns to Her. “Can I borrow your tits, Love? I think they might be bloody magic.” 

“Stop being a cunt, Butcher,” She snapped, just in time to stop Ben throwing Butcher out the door hard enough to break the Pussy-Mobile Ben could see in the driveway. “And Ben’s right, we should get moving.” 

Butcher muttered something that sounds like horny fucking bombs shouldn’t be allowed within ten miles of each other, and stalked out the door. Kimiko signed something to Her with a smile, and she signed back with a laugh. Before Ben could even ask what the fuck they’re saying, Her arm was linked through his and she started telling him. 

“Kimiko says my tits are magic, but not as magic as Butcher’s. Which proves he’s just a dick, because if it was about magic tits he’d have the game on lock.” 

“Huh,” Ben frowned, trying not to let the Thing overtake him with thoughts about how right it feels to be walking with Her looped against him. “I wouldn’t have pegged Butcher to have good tits.” 

“That’s because you,” She bumped her shoulder with his. “Are very unobservant.” 

“I’m incredibly fucking observant. I clocked your tits the first time we met.”

“I remember. You weren’t listening to Hughie because of it. Which is very unobservant.” 

“It’s not my fault you have such good tits,” Ben grumbled, savoring the way Her heart flutters as she tried to fight her giggle. Looking up at him with fucking perfect, happy eyes. “They’re fucking weapons of war.” 

She fully snorted. “I think your compliments are regressing again.” 

Ben rolled his eyes, just offering a hand to steady Her as she climbs into the van. She takes it with a grin, and doesn’t let go when Ben follows her.

“What’s the plan,” She asked, and the Thing hummed as she still didn’t drop Ben’s hand, pulling him into his place at her side. 

Butcher’s answer was short, clipped. “Blast Neuman.” 

She blinked, her body tensing against Ben. “And?” 

“That, um, that’s kind of it,” Cocksucker said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “We don’t have a huge window before Vicky gets word we’re up to something-“

She raised a hand, and Cocksucker fell silent. “What, exactly, did you use yesterday for.”

“Getting Neuman’s schedule,” MM answered this time, voice stronger than Cocksuckers but still lined with fucking guilt. “Those motherfuckers run a tight ship, we needed to know where she’d be-“

“But you didn’t come up with a plan. For when you would, inevitably, know?” 

Nobody answered this time, and She gave a long sigh. Her heart was fast in her chest, but it wasn’t the stumbling, unordered beat that signals fear or panic. It was moving because Her brain was moving, her perfect face scrunched in thought, the machine that was her brain practically audible. The Pussy Brigade even had the nerve to look afraid, despite the fact that She wasn't smoking or making the air of the van wave with heat.

She turned to Kimiko—sitting at the French Prick’s side—who was the only one watching with plain curiosity. They started to sign at each other—the French Prick jumping in to add something that was received with a frown and a nod—and when She turned back to the group her face was drawn in determination. 

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” She said slowly, staring ahead at the wall with her brows knit. Ben pulled Her a little closer into him, and her heart slowed slightly. “We’re catching Neuman at home. Off-guard. Do we know if other people live in the building?” 

“Only some other bureaucrat fuckers,” Butcher answered from the front, and Starlight shook her head. 

“And their fucking families, Butcher.” 

“Okay,” She nodded slowly. “Frenchie, you burned off your fingerprints a while ago, right?” 

“Oui,” the French Prick holds up his hands for display. 

“Good. You’re going to pull the fire alarm. Hughie,” Her sharp gaze turned to Cocksucker. “I need you on the cameras. Make sure everyone is out. MM will be on standby if there are stragglers. Kimiko and Annie will cover the exits, Butcher,” She paused, and Ben could hear the gnaw of her lip. “Scratch all of that. Annie can’t be seen participating in this, she’ll be on the cameras, and Butcher will take her spot on the exits. Hughie, you’ll come with Ben and I. I’ll cover you when he goes off.”

There’s a second of silence, and then the van erupted in protests. Butcher shouting about how he’s not going to cover a bloody exit, he wants to see Neuman get fucked. Starlight whining about how she doesn’t want to be useless in the van, she can really help. Cocksucker fretting about how he’s not sure this is a great idea, and might be better staying on the cameras. The French Prick and Kimiko are silent, exchanging a look with subtle gestures at Her, Kimiko’s face determined, gestures growing and growing until the French Prick raised his hands in surrender. Finally, MM seemed to be trying to do what he considered reasoning with Her, that they couldn’t just go off with only Hughie, what if you need backup, what if Soldier Boy goes nuclear. 

Ben opened his mouth—ready to defend himself, defend Her—but She caught his eye and shook her head. I can handle this. 

He gave a curt nod back, not hiding the scowl on his face. Fine. But don’t be fucking nice to them. 

Shut up, Her eyes narrowed at him before she turned back to the group, who was starting to tire themselves out like the fucking children they were. When the van was quiet once more, She spoke in a clear, bored voice. 

“Butcher, we’re not killing Neuman, so you’re not invited. Annie, I know you want to help. Staying here is helping. You’ll draw attention, and if the public realizes you’re associated with Soldier Boy then we’ll be assfucked. MM, Ben won’t just go nuclear. We’ve got it under control. Hughie, you’re the only one Neuman won’t try to pop on sight. She’ll talk to you, and it’ll be good to have a friend there for when Ben’s done. And-“ She sat up a little straighter, glaring around the van. “If any of you don’t like my plan, I’d love to hear your alternatives.” 

“How do you plan on getting into the bloody building?” Butcher snapped. “They ain’t just gonna let you in.” 

“Fire escapes are very real, dumbass.” She retorted. “And Hughie can do that shit where he makes their cameras play the same video so they don’t see us. We’ll corner Neuman, then Frenchie will pull the alarm, and Ben will go off once it’s just us and her and Zoe.” 

“What’s your escape plan?” Starlight asked, giving Cocksucker a worried look. “You two can just leave, but Hughie-“ 

“I can redirect Ben’s blast. Make sure it doesn’t destroy the building. Hughie will be fine.” Ben stiffens beside Her, because as far as he fucking knows she’d only done that once. And it had ended in Her small and sad and broken, curled up into herself and alone. 

She has you this time, the Thing reminded him. If this goes to shit, she’ll always fucking have you. 

“Are we good?” She was asking the van, and Ben saw each of the fucking pussies nod. “Awesome.”

She leaned back into Ben, and he frowned down at Her, lowering his voice so only she could hear. “You can redirect my fucking blast?”

She shrugged, starting ahead with empty eyes. “Hypothetically, yeah.” 

“And you’re going to risk Hughie’s life on hypothetically?” Ben didn’t give a shit about Cocksucker’s life, but She did. And Ben gave a shit about Her life, about her not breaking down and tearing herself apart about accidentally killing Cocksucker.

“It’s an educated guess, Ben.” She muttered. “It’ll work. It has to. And don’t you dare say-“ She shot Ben a glare, voice dropping into her dogshit impression of him. “But what if it doesn’t.” 

Ben scoffed. “I wasn’t going to fucking say that.”

“Yes, you were. You always say that.” 

“Shut the fuck up,” Ben felt the Thing become a little lighter as a smile tugged at Her mouth. “Do I have to do anything in your plan besides hit Neuman?” 

“You have to not be a dick to Hughie, let me do the talking, and stand around looking pretty until I tell you to be useful,” She counted her answers off one by one on her fingers, and Ben chuckled. 

“Be pretty, huh?” 

“Don’t fish for compliments, Benjamin,” She teased. “It’s unbecoming.” 

“If I give you one, will you give me one?” Ben leaned forward a little, fighting every instinct in his body to soothe Her lips where she’d been chewing them with his tongue. Any marks were gone, so he couldn’t really fucking pick out where She’d been biting, but that just meant he’d have to cover all his bases. Soothe Her whole fucking mouth. “A quid pro quo?” 

She hummed. “Good use of quid pro quo.” 

“Is that a fucking yes?” 

“Fine,” she sighed. “You look very nice in your stupid suit.” 

“Nice?” 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” she gave him a flat glare. “Handsome.” 

“Say the whole thing.” 

“My compliment better blow Shakespeare out of the fucking water,” she muttered, but looked up at him with batting eyelashes and an over-sweet voice. “You look very handsome in your stupid fucking suit. Your turn.” 

Ben started to stall, because he couldn’t think of anything good enough for Her. “We should get you a suit.” 

She snorted. “I am not wearing a costume.” 

“It’s not a fucking costume, Sunshine, it’s a uniform.” 

“If I can buy a semi accurate version of it at Spirit Halloween, it’s a costume.” 

“What the fuck is a Spirit Halloween.” 

“It’s a costume store. Stop stalling and give me my compliment.” 

Ben sighed, scanning Her face and trying to make the Thing come up with something a little more fucking poetic than you, you, you it’s just you and if you liked we can go right fucking now and leave forever and I’d keep you safe and happy and smiling and fuck you wherever the hell you want whenever you want because it’s you and you’re perfect. 

“You…” Off to a remarkably fucking shit start. “Are…” Ben was going to find it, if it was the last thing he fucking did. He was going to keep staring at Her until he figured out exactly what say that would make her face all flushed and thighs clench and heart stutter.

“I am?” 

“You’re good.” Ben settled for simplicity. Poetry was not his fucking strong suit, and that was more than okay by him. 

“I’m good?” She frowned at him, and for a second Ben wanted to bring her into his chest, just show Her what he’d meant. He couldn’t show her with just words, and she was frowning, and just fucking showing her would be more fun anyways. It would make Her smile, make her understand, he was goddamn sure of it. “Are you going to elaborate?”

“You’re good,” Ben repeated, shrugging and his hands fisted to stop himself from grabbing Her. “It’s pretty fucking simple. Your pretty brain should be able to figure it out.” 

“Well congratulations, you’ve stumped me. Can you please be just the tiniest bit less cryptic.” 

“You’re good.” 

“Yeah, I heard you the first two times-“

“No,” Ben said Her name, too lost in trying to make her get it to stop himself grabbing her chin. “You’re good. You’re not what these pussies say you are. You’re a lot fucking more than whatever Homelander thinks you are. You’re better and more important than any politician, supe or no. You’re good.” 

“Oh,” She whispered. “Thanks.” 

Ben’s hand was still against Her jaw, and she wasn’t pushing it away. If anything She was leaning into it, keeping Ben touching her as if she didn’t care about the useless fucking onlookers either. And She was staring at him, keeping Ben with her just by fucking looking at him, her mouth just slightly open. If he wanted Ben could move his thumb up, trace Her perfect lips, see if she’d let him push it into her- 

Someone who Ben was going to have to kill later said Her name, and she looked away. 

The Thing was so absorbed in Her, in try to get back to Her, that Ben missed the entire first half of the conversation. MM was crouching in front of Her—holding onto the seat at her side to steady himself from Butcher’s fucking terrible driving—and talking without sparing Ben a glance. 

“-Even if Butcher doesn’t tip her off, what makes you absolutely so goddamn certain Soldier Boy won’t blow his load early and screw us,” MM was hissing, and Ben scowled. 

“I never fucking blow my load early-“ 

She caught his eye, her own flaring slightly to tell him, Shut up, Pretty Boy. 

Ben grunted, but fell silent with a clenched jaw, shooting Her a look of, I don’t blow my load early. 

She rolled her eyes. Now is not even remotely the time to start measuring your dick. Let me handle this. 

Fine, Ben winked. But you’re welcome to help me measure it later. 

She kicked Ben’s shin, addressing MM. “He won’t. I’ve been working on it.” 

“You’ve been working on it?” MM scoffed. “Just because you’re all smiley and gross at each other doesn’t mean you can control this motherfucker’s PTSD.” 

“No, but my fucking healing powers mean that I can get rid of it.” 

MM blinked at Her, glancing quickly at Ben before speaking in a low tone that Ben, for one, didn’t fucking appreciate. “You've been healing him.” 

“Allegedly,” Ben muttered under his breath, and earned a dirty look. 

“Yeah, well, you’ve only blown your load once this month. So shut the fuck up.” She looked back at MM. “He can control it.” 

“It’s your ass if he can’t,” MM snapped, and She rolled her eyes. 

“I’m aware. He can.”

Both Ben and the Thing were big fans of how clear and final She said those words. Ben could control it, that was it, no room for discussion. She had faith in him, she trusted him, and if anyone had any issue with that she’d defend him. Just like Ben would defend Her. To the ends of the fucking earth, until they burned together.

“Do you know where we’re putting Neuman and Zoe after this?” She was still talking to MM, but Her voice had raised enough for the whole shit team to hear. “She can’t just keep being Vice President. Homelander will kill her.” 

“About that,” it was Cocksucker who answered, rubbing his hands together like an anxious pussy. “They’re going to the safe house.” 

“The safe house?” She repeated with a frown. “Like, our safe house?” 

The Thing liked Her use of our. Ben did too. He did not like where this conversation was headed. “I am not living with Head-popper and her kid.” 

“Well, I’ve got fantastic fucking news,” Butcher drawled, standing and turning as the van came to a halt. “You ain’t gonna. You two,” Butcher pointed between Ben and Her. “Will be moving.” 

“To a different safe house?” She asked, and Butcher shook his head with a snake-like grin.

“To the new FBSA HQ,” Butcher winked at Ben, and Ben wanted to sew his eye shut. “In Jersey.”

“I am not living in fucking Jersey either,” Ben snapped, and She sighed. 

“Why not a new safe house?” 

“Because.”

She snorted at Butcher’s useless fucking response. “What, does the whole CIA somehow only have one safe house?” 

“Listen,” MM grunted. “You’ll get an apartment. Just a little fuckin smaller than the house. You’ll have more freedom-“ 

“We both still won’t be able to leave the house.” She pointed out, and MM shrugged. 

“But you’ll be able to fuckin order food. Get packages delivered without texting me or Mallory about it. Have visitors. Anything you order will have to be under a fake name, and visitors will have to be approved, but it’s more than what you have now.” 

“Why now? That building was finished in January, I saw it on the news. Why move us now?” 

“Because,” Butcher crossed the van with a shrug. “We bloody said so. Now are we ready to get a move on? Time is of the essence in this shit plan.” 

“Okay,” She took a deep breath. “Hughie, can you-“ 

“On it,” Cocksucker gave Her a thumbs up, starting to tap of his little laptop. “I’ll let you know when I’m good.” 

“Thanks. Just so we’re all on the same page, Butcher, what are you doing?” 

Butcher rolled his eyes. “Watching the exit. Why am I getting fucking cold called-“ 

She ignored Butcher’s whiny bitching, and turned to Starlight. “Annie?” 

“Stay in the van, make sure the building’s clear.” 

“MM?”

“Standby to help Annie get people out.” 

“Frenchie?” 

“Fire alarm.” 

She signed at Kimiko, who responded with a smile. 

“Good,” She looked around the van, and Ben realized she hadn’t asked him. 

Because She trusts you, the Thing rumbled. She isn’t worried about you fucking it. 

“Any questions?” She asked, and when she was met with shaking heads she nodded. “Hughie?”

“We're good. Annie, do you need help-“

Starlight shook her head, taking the computer from Cocksucker. “I’ve got it.”

Cocksucker gave a small nod, and turned to Her. “I’m ready.”

“Alright,” Ben could hear the tap of Her fingers in the familiar pattern, her heart speeding up as she took another breath. “We’ll go first. Annie, find exits for Butcher and Kimiko, and send them fast. If Neuman sees us coming we need to have our asses covered. I’ll text when Frenchie’s good to pull the alarm.”

She stood on unsteady feet, and Ben’s arm shot out instinctively to catch her around the waist. He was rewarded with a grateful smile and Her heart slowing ever so slightly. “Ready?” 

The question was for Ben. He knew it, because She wasn’t looking anywhere but him and her voice was soft. “Fucking born for it.” 

She huffed a small laugh, dropping the sunglasses onto the bridge of her perfect nose, and Ben didn’t bother to remove his arm from her as he stood. The Pussy Brigade’s confused and judgmental stares could go suck each other off if they wanted. She gave a small gesture to Cocksucker, who left Starlight’s side to follow them out the van and into the cold alleyway. 

They were silent for a second as She took in the tall brownstone building before them. Cocksucker kept shooting them both anxious fucking pussy looks as Ben held Her against him—using his body to block her from the chills of the wind—and would look away frantically whenever Ben held his gaze. 

“Ben,” She looked up at him with sharp eyes, over the frames of her sunglasses. “You need to throw us.”

“What?” 

Ben and Cocksucker spoke in almost perfect unison, though Cocksucker’s words were more panicked in comparison to Ben’s disbelief. 

“I am not fucking throwing you,” Ben snapped Her name. 

“You have to,” She looked back at the building, pointing as she spoke. “We can’t go through the emergency exit, alarms will go off. That,” Her finger moved to the iron stairs and grates lining the building. “Is our best bet. You can jump, me and Hughie can’t.” 

“Then I’ll go first and lower the damn ladder.” 

Cocksucker nodded. “I second Soldier Boy, that’s a better plan.” 

“No,” She elbowed Ben’s ribs, shaking her head. “It’s not. That’s something people might notice. We need to leave as little a trail as possible. Ben’s going to throw us. Me first, then Hughie, then he’ll jump.” 

Ben wanted to argue—tell Her that there had to be a better idea that didn’t involve Her just being chucked into the fucking air—but She had already detangled herself from Ben, and was moving towards the building. So Ben followed, Cocksucker stumbling behind him, and stopped at Her side. 

“This is fucking stupid, Sunshine.”

“Uh huh,” She looked up at the fire escape. “Whenever you’re ready, Pretty Boy.” 

Ben huffed, but picked Her up carefully, locking his arms firmly around her body and balancing on one leg as he propped up a knee. “Don’t die.” 

“Couldn’t if I tried. Go.” 

Ben squeezed Her slightly, then threw Her up. The half-second before she grabbed the rails—where she was suspended almost fucking cartoonishly in the sky—sucked all the air from Ben’s lungs. But She was fast, finding a grip and hauling herself onto the platform with only a small grunt that was carried away by the wind.

“All good!” She called down. “Send Hughie up.” 

Ben looked at Cocksucker, whose face was like a fucking deer about to be mauled by a wolf. 

“Uh, I’m not sure this is a good idea-“ 

“Shut up,” Ben grunted, walking to pick the gangly fucker up. “I’m not going to fucking kill you. And she’ll catch you.” 

“But-“ 

Ben grabbed Cocksucker under his arms and tossed him into the air with a yelp. As promised, She grabbed Cocksucker’s hand in the air, holding him steady until the little pussy got a hold on the bars himself and pulled up to Her side. Ben sighed, rolling his neck and trying to measure the jump as he backed up. 

“Ben-“ 

Her call was cut off as he lept into the air, landing pretty damn perfectly on the platform. Right in front of Her. “Yes?” He winked, tone mocking, and She wrinkled her nose at him. 

“Show off.” 

“You fucking told me to do that.” 

“Fuck you,” She turned away, and the Thing started brainstorming ways to get her back later for those words. “Hughie, what floor is Neuman on?” 

“The top one, I think.” 

“You think?” 

“I’m like 98% sure.” 

She sighed. “Then we better start climbing.” 

The walk up the stairs was silent, Her leading the way, Ben at the rear, and Cocksucker moving in small, quick steps between them. The wind was biting, howling in Ben’s ears louder and louder the closer they drew to the top, drowning out the sound of Her heartbeat. When they stopped, one level from the roof, She crouched below the window. Cocksucker followed suit, and Ben gave Her a flat look.

“I’m not-“

“Benjamin, get your ass down before I make you.” 

He glared at Her, only because this is important, and hunched to the floor.

“I’ll go in first. Ben, I’m going to have to keep my eyes on Neuman, so you need to text Butcher.” 

“I don’t have my fucking phone-“ 

She tossed it at Ben wordlessly, raising Her brows. 

“Shut up,” he grumbled, and She stuck her tongue out. 

“Ready?” 

Ben grunted, and Cocksucker gave a barely perceptible nod. 

She exhaled through puffed lips, moving the sunglasses into her jacket as she looked at the window. “Here we fucking go.” 

Neuman’s apartment was nice. Cozy. If Ben didn’t have a fucking job to do, he’d ask for her interior decorator. Especially if he’d understood MM correctly and was going to be getting his own apartment soon. To share with Her. Their apartment. 

Would she like that carpet? The Thing was fixated on a deep blue, stupidly damn fluffy carpet thrown across Neuman’s floor. No, it’s blue. Fucking pussy color. She’d like the texture though- 

Job to do. Ben had a job to do. The Thing needed to shut the fuck up, because Ben had a job to do. 

A job that walked right into the hallway they were standing in. 

Neuman’s eyes widened, talking a stumbling step back as she yelped. “Hughie? The fuck are you doing here? In my home?” Nueman’s eyes darted to Ben, then Her. “With Soldier Boy and the Anomaly?” 

“It’s complicated,” Cocksucker rubbed his neck nervously. “You should, uh, you should get Zoe.” 

“Stay the hell away from my daughter. Whatever you’re doing here doesn’t fucking involve her.” 

“Vicki-“ 

Cocksucker’s pleading words were cut off by Her, tone firm. “Neuman, we’re not going to hurt you, or Zoe. We just need you both. Now.” 

Neuman laughed disbelievingly. “You’re not here to hurt me, but you brought Solider Boy?” 

“We’ll explain,” She answered, voice calm even as Her heart started to pick up. “But please get Zoe.” 

“Fuck no-“

“Neuman.” She crossed her arms. “You can’t pop me or Ben. You won’t pop Hughie. I swear we aren’t here to hurt you. Go get Zoe.” 

There was silence for a second, Ben could see Neuman looking around frantically, trying to find a way out where there wasn’t one, and eventually giving in. “Zo, baby? Can you come here please?” 

A girl, couldn’t be more than fucking twelve, entered the hall. “Mom, what’s-“ The kid’s words died with a gasp as she saw Ben, Cocksucker, and Her in the hall. “Mom?” 

Neuman moved the kid behind her, holding her hand with a white-knuckled grip. “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.” 

“What is Hughie doing here, with Soldier Boy?!” The girl's voice was frantic, and Ben could hear her heart race. “And Homelander’s girlfriend? What the fuck is happening-“ 

“She’s not Homelander’s girlfriend,” Ben hissed, and She slapped Ben’s arm. 

She’s just a kid, Her glare said. And you said you’d let me do the talking. 

You’re not Homelander’s anything, Ben glared back. She should fucking know that. 

Just a kid, Ben. She gave the phone in his hand a pointed look. Text Butcher that we’re good. 

Ben scoffed, but opened the damn phone to tell Butcher that the French Prick needed to move as Neuman continued to comfort her daughter. 

“Don’t worry about it, baby. I can’t explain right now, but we’re going to be fine. I just need you to stay behind me.” 

“Mom-“ 

“Zoe,” Cocksucker said gently. “We’re not going to hurt you, or your mom. We just need to talk.” 

“About what?” Neuman hissed. “I’d have taken a meeting, you didn’t have to resort to breaking into my home, Hughie.” 

“Well, uh-“ 

“And I fucking know you visited Stan on Monday. So don’t lie to me and say you’re not up to something-“ 

Neuman was cut off as a wailing, deafening siren rattled through the building. Turns out the French Prick moved impressively fast. Ben had barely hit send two seconds ago. 

“Ben,” She mumbled, eyes not leaving Neuman’s fearful expression. “Can you break the alarms?” 

Ben nodded with a grunt, walking to the red light above them as smashing it with his fist. That seemed to be enough, he could hear everyone’s breathing and heart again, so he returned to Her side. 

“Hughie, tell me when Annie says we’re good.” 

Cocksucker nodded, pulling out and fidgeting with his phone, and Neuman took a shaky step back. 

“Don’t try and leave, Neuman,” She said, voice tired and face bored. “I really don’t want to hurt you, so please just wait.” 

“Wait for what?! What the fuck is happening?!” 

She sighed. “As you probably figured out, we cut a deal with Edgar. He’s going to help us out, as long as we talk you and Zoe out of the game.” 

“Out of the game?” Neuman’s face twisted in determination. “You lay a hand on me, on Zoe, and I’ll blow Hughie’s brains up.” 

Cocksucker paled, “Vicki-“ 

“I phrased that poorly.” She addressed Neuman firmly, standing her ground. “We’re removing the V from your system. So you don’t have to be a part of this shit show. The CIA will keep you safe, and we’ll get what we need.” 

“No,” Neuman shook her head, taking another step back. “Fuck no. You’re not touching me, or Zoe, and whatever Stan said he’d give you I can give you as well-“ 

Neuman’s words choked him her throat as fire spread slowly along the floor. Controlled, careful flames that blocked the exits and never rose above a foot. 

“We’re not asking.” She said softly, almost fucking apologetic. “It might hurt for a second, but you’ll be fine. I promise.” 

“Um,” Cocksucker said Her name, looking up from his phone. “We’re ready.”

“I’m sorry,” She said to Neuman, and Ben knew She fucking meant it. Her heart was bouncing around in her chest, her breathing was labored, and her face was full of guilt when she looked at him. “Now, Ben.” 

Ben called the drums, pulling them as fast as he fucking could into his chest, into time with his heart. It was building, growing louder and brighter, and he angled his chest at Her right before everything fell in place inside him, and the world exploded. 

The Thing roared as the bomb caught Her, even if every conscious part of Ben knew she’d be fine. She was strong, she could handle it, she’d fucking told him to hit her. But that didn’t stop the Thing from trying to climb out of him, to get to Her as she floated off the ground, surrounded in golden light and fire with her eyes shut. Ben couldn’t hear Her heart, couldn’t read her face, couldn’t give shit about Neuman trying to run or Cocksucker backing up to the window. It was just Her, burning alone, impossible to reach. Impossible to help. 

She went out. For only a second all the light died, and Ben could hear Her heartbeat again. Then Her eyes opened, fucking wild and glowing, and everything exploded. Light shot from Her chest, hitting Neuman and Zoe head on, moving through their bodies as she levitated further off the floor. Ben even fucking stumbled, because the world shook. The ground moved and everything seemed to come to a screeching halt, suspended in time as She grew brighter. Time only resumed when the light—as fast as it had appeared—died, and She collapsed to the floor. 

Ben fucking dove to catch Her, grabbing around her chest right before she hit the floor. Her eyes were open, and Ben could see the exhaustion in them, hear the slowing of Her heart as the energy drained from Her body. He heard Cocksucker run past them, checking on Nueman,  but didn’t look away from Her. 

“Ben,” Her voice was weak, breathless. “I’m fine. Make sure it worked.” 

“I’m not fucking leaving you-“

“All you have to do is turn your head, check that Neuman and Zoe are alive, and tell me,” She gave a soft laugh. “Fucking drama queen.” 

“Shut the fuck up.” Ben muttered, but glanced over his shoulder to where Cocksucker was standing awkwardly as Zoe climbed her feet, Neuman pulling her into a hug. “They look fucking fine.”

“Okay,” She sat up slowly, not trying to leave Ben’s hold as she called over him. “Hughie, are they-“ 

“We are,” Neuman answered. “I can’t feel it. Your blood or hearts. Zo?” 

The girl’s hands moved to her face. “They’re gone.” 

Neuman nodded, and looked back at Her. Ben could hear the race of Neuman’s heart, almost smell her fear. “Now what?” 

“Butcher and Kimiko are on their way up,” Cocksucker said, glancing at his phone. “We’re going to get you somewhere safe.” 

“What about my life,” Neuman shook her head. “Zoe’s life-“ 

“You both wouldn’t have fucking lives if Homelander decided you weren’t useful anymore,” Ben snapped. “You’re fucking welcome.”

Neuman looked at Ben with a frown, her eyes scanning over how he was still holding Her, keeping her carefully upright. “What did Edgar offer you.” 

“Help,” Ben hissed. “And it's not your fucking problem now.” 

“We need to move,” She tugged at Ben’s shirt, voice even quieter than before. “Homelander will have noticed this, we need to go-“ 

Ben nodded roughly, and scooped Her into his arms. Ben turned to Cocksucker as She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Tell Butcher you pussies better fucking haul ass to get Neuman out.”

Cocksucker nodded nervously. “Um, where are you-“ 

“The van. We still have shit at the safe house, we’ll need to get it before you move us. But I’m not fucking waiting here until Butcher arrives.” Until Homelander arrives. Not when She’s about to pass out. Ben spoke the last words through gritted teeth. “I did my job. Do yours.” 

Ben didn’t wait for Cocksucker’s response, climbing back out of the window and studying the drop down the alley. He could just jump—it would be faster and they’d both be fine—but it would be loud. Crack the pavement. 

Get more unwelcome attention. 

So Ben climbed down the stairs, keeping Her secure against his chest. He jumped down from only the last platform, making sure Her hold on him was firm before did he, and moved to van in long, fast steps. He vaulted through the doors, dropping against the walls—not bothering with pointless fucking greetings to MM or Starlight—and listened to Her breathing fall, becoming slow and easy as her eyes drooped. She passed out in Ben’s arms, and he rubbed small circles on Her back because he fucking could. Because they had done it, She had done it, so Edgar would come through and she’d be safe.

It took a few minutes, but the remainder of the team—now joined by Nueman and her daughter—returned to the van. The door slammed behind them and MM took off, hightailing it away from the alley, from where Homelander would surely arrive any minute. But Ben didn’t give a shit, didn’t bother to listen to Butcher, Starlight, and Nueman talk about next steps, because She was here. Holding Ben, heartbeat in rhythm with his own.

She leaned against Ben the whole way back to the safe house. Face smushed into his chest, hair tickling Ben’s chin as she climbed up just a little closer in her sleep. Curled in his lap, a little bit of droll falling from her mouth. Ben had never seen something so fucking perfect in his life. She deserved to be like that for the rest of fucking time, comfortable and peaceful. Against Ben, if that’s what she wanted. 

Ben moved slowly, careful not to disturb Her, and pulled out his phone. 696969 was a fucking stupid passcode, but he’d noticed Her fight a giggle every time he had to enter it so it would stay like that forever. It took him a minute to find the camera app—there had to be a better way to navigate this piece of shit—but when he did he raised his free arm, holding the phone down at Her perfect face, and took a photo. It might be fucking creepy, he might be getting weird looks from the Pussy Brigade, but Ben didn’t give a single fuck. If She ever decided to leave him, if he had to let Her go, at least he’d have a memory of this. Of Her just needing him, just wanting him. 

Something of Her, forever.

End Note: My wife (Victoria Neuman) is home from war (s4 of the Boys)

Thank you guys for 100 followers!!! I want to do something but have literally no clue what. If you want to throw a snack into my writer enclosure, leave a comment with any thoughts or jokes or angry words for me about cockblocking our favorite horny idiots again. And if not just being here is always more than enough!

Taglist

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@c1gs-coffee @manicjk @artemys-ackles, @a-cup-of-nightshade, @bitchykittenconnoisseur

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[bluubanisters]

kei tsukkishima nsfw!

slut!

tsukkishima and y/n never really spoke in school. they didn't speak much out of school either, unless you counted moaning eachothers names every other night. they might not be together, but that won't stop tsukkishima showing whats his.

warnings! dom tsukkishima, overstim, p in v, angry sxx, jealous overprotective tsukkishima

y/n was walking to lunch when she felt a tall figure behind her. she turned around meeting the eyes of her good friend.

"hi kei?" y/n was rather confused. kei never spoke to her in school unless it was necessary. "dont call me that here" tsukkishima grumbled. he was obviously annoyed. "pull your skirt down i can see your ass y/n, you look like a slut”

y/n was shocked. who the fuck did he think he was. tsukkishima was acting the he owned her. they weren't even together. y/n frowned and walked away. pulling her skirt up a little bit higher.

"tsukki why are you talking to y/n" yamaguchi appeared from behind him. "i didn't know you guys were friends?" tsukkishima replied. "we aren't she bumped into me" yamaguchi rolled his eyes

"stop being mean to girls tsukki! thats why you dont have a girlfriend"

y/n sighed, throwing herself onto her bed. "who does kei think he is?" she said to herself. "i'll wear my clothes however i want"

____________

y/n woke up feeling extremely petty this morning. she wasnt gonna let kei act like he owned her. y/n picked up the shortest skirt she could find and put it on. she even rolled it up so that her ass cheeks were almost visible, just for good measure. she smirked to herself in the mirror.

y/n only had one thought on her mind, fuck tsukkishima kei .

y/n walked past tsukkishima with a big smile on her face, knowing damn well her skirt was twice as short as it was yesterday. tsukkishima watched her and she walked past. "what the fuck?" he whispered to himself. yamaguchi raised an eyebrow "whats up tsukki?" tsukkishima started to walk away. "just go to class, ill meet you there" he said without turning back.

he turned around the corner, walking up to y/n and grabbed her by the wrist. "kei what-" she was cut off by him dragging her away from her friends. "kei what are you doing?" she whisper yelled "we're in school you idiot!" she yanked her arm from his grasp.

tsukkishima was red with anger. "y/n what the fuck!" he almost yelled. "where do you think you're going with that skirt? a fucking strip club?" y/n rolled her eyes and laughed in his face “you don't own me kei. now fuck off, im going to class" she walked away before tsukkishima could say another word

tsukkishima had never been so angry. he would definitely be going to y/ns after school.

tsukkishima banged on y/ns door. she was about to get what was coming to her. y/n got up from her sofa. she knew exactly who was at the door, and exactly what was about to happen.

y/n opened the door with an innocent smile on her face "hi kei! what are you doing here?"

tsukkishima barged in and slammed the door behind him. he grabbed y/n and pinned her against the wall. "i don't know what stunt your trying to pull y/n, but i dont like it" he grumbled. y/n kept that innocent smile on her face

"i don't know what your talking about kei"

tsukkishima picked her up with his hands under her thighs and walked over to the bedroom, kissing her neck and leaving dark red hickeys. leaving his mark. showing what was his.

he walked into the bedroom and threw y/n onto the bed. "you're such a slut y/n" he removed her shirt, leaving y/n in her black lacey bra. he was aggressive yet lustful making sure not to hurt her too bad.

"showing off to other boys" he aggressively attacked her chest with love bites, leaving marks wherever he could. tsukkishima slipped off y/ns skirt. "you're mine" he growled. tsukkishima removed his mouth from y/ns neck and took off his own shirt. he began to kiss her speedily while unbuckling his belt and taking off his pants.

"we aren't together kei" y/n mumbled.

"i don't care" tsukkishima took off y/ns bra and her boobs sprung out. tsukkishima grabbed her breast taking her nipple into his mouth. he swirled his tounge around y/ns hardened nipple. y/n moaned quietly. tsukkishima moved onto the other breast doing the same. he moved his spare hand between y/ns legs. gently rubbing her clit through her panties. y/n moaned a little louder.

tsukkishima let go of her breasts and pulled off her panties. leaving her fully naked. he rubbed circles on y/ns clit with his thumb. she squirmed and moaned at the contact.

tsukkishima pulled his boxers off. his big cock springing out. "get on your hands and knees" he barked. y/n complied, getting into the doggy position. tsukkishima shoved his member into her core without any warning. thrusting hard and fast. y/n was quickly a moaning mess.

"kei-" she called out. this only urged tsukkishima to go harder. he was showing y/n who she belonged to. "your mine y/n. you hear me?" he growled.

y/n only moaned louder in reply.

tsukkishima grabbed her hair and pulled her up. y/n yelped at the pain, she enjoyed it. "i want to hear you say it y/n" he whispered. "say you're mine, dirty slut" y/n cried out

"im yours kei!"

she was on the edge. "please kei-" tears began to form in her eyes. tsukkishima let go of y/ns hair and she fell to the bed. her face pressed into the sheets.

tsukkishima stopped and flipped her over. he began thrusting again with no hesitation. "im gonna-" y/n yelled. tsukkishima grunted. "don't you dare" he grabbed her neck, not hard enough to choke, but hard enough for her to gasp.

"you can cum when i say so"

y/n was trembling. she couldn't take it anymore. "please kei! im yours kei please!" she moaned. "fine" he replied sassily. y/n released into his cock. she was a squirming mess but tsukkishima didn't plan on stopping.

he continued to pound y/n until she was a moaning mess. she was about to cum again, and he was getting close too. "keiii~" she whimpered. "me too baby, its okay" he groaned back. after a few more strokes y/n came on his cock again. this sent tsukkishima over the edge. he pulled out and with a few strokes of his hand, he was cumming all over y/ns stomach.

"i'll clean you up baby, don't worry" tsukkishima grabbed some tissues and cleaned up any mess that was made. y/n put on his t-shirt and climed into her bed. tsukkishima put on his boxers and did the same. y/n nuzzled into his neck. she was exhausted.

"y/n?" tsukkishima spoke. she hummed in reply. "im sorry for getting jealous" he whispered. y/n smiled into his neck. "its okay" tsukkishima paused for a second before saying something he wasn't sure if he would regret.

"i think i love you"

i actually might make p2 to this….

wc: 1187

[lesservillain]

inmate!eddie munson x teacher!reader

cw: smut, miscommunications

January 19th, 1995 

“And when you take the line that Romeo-”

With ten minutes left in class, you were suddenly interrupted by a knock on the door. All eyes turn to see Mr.Bridges standing with his bright smile and a crisp new tie. He gives a friendly wave and stands there waiting for you to greet him. He gets the hint when you give him a questioning look.

“Hell, all! I hope you had a good holiday season,” he waves, a stack of envelopes in his hand. You did your best to keep your excitement contained, watching his hand as he made his way to you, “I have your newest letters here. And I just want to say that the boys at the jail loved the cards, guys. You all wrote some very nice things and they all had a light in their eyes when they read them.”

When you went to grab the stack from his hands, he stopped you, stepping close enough to whisper. “Can I talk with you in the hallway for a moment, please?” Your heart raced at how serious his tone was. Nodding, you let the class know you’d be stepping out, and to do some self study in the meantime. Mr.Bridges closed the door behind you, clearing his throat before turning to face you.

“Is everything okay? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you not smiling. It’s kind of creeping me out.” You joke, trying to lighten the tense vibes this interaction is giving. 

He looks down and the ground for a moment before looking back up to you, “So, I have some bad news. About one of the inmates.”

Your heart dropped to your ass.

“W-what happened?”

“There was an…incident over the holidays,” he starts, “one of the inmates was attacked and, unfortunately, didn’t survive.”

Your head reeled back, suddenly dizzy. He kept speaking before you could think much more.

“We don’t know how it happened, but we are looking into making sure that our security measures don’t let it happen again. But,” he perks up again, easily slipping back into his sunny disposition, “in the meantime, that means you don’t have to worry about writing to your inmate anymore!”

Oh, god you wanted to puke.

“E-Eddie died?” You could barely get out the words and your vision started to go blurry as tears welled up in your eyes.

“What, oh, no, another inmate,” he said nonchalantly, “Eddie’s fine, but he’s just going to be reassigned to the student who had the inmate who passed. Wasn’t very happy when we told him about the switch, but when we told him that you weren’t super keen on the whole project to begin with, his tune seemed to change.”

It was too much coming at you all at once. It felt like the worst case of the spins. Relief hit first, and then mortification. Bridges was talking but you couldn’t hear the words. He handed you the stack of letters as the students started pouring out of the classrooms before disappearing amongst the crowd.

The rest of the morning you were in a funk. Only on your lunch break were you finally able to sit down and process everything. Eddie is alive. A positive. Eddie probably hates you. A negative. Anger bubbled in your body. Why would they even tell him about your disapproval for the program anyway? Sure, you had your reservations, but you’ve had a change of heart in the last few months.

“Fuck,” you bury your face in your hands and run them down to your neck. The stack of envelopes sit on your desk. You’re not sure which student got Eddie in the mix, so you flip through the envelopes to see if the handwriting looks familiar. Sure enough you see a name in the familiar chicken scratch handwriting. You sit back in your chair with a huff, throwing the envelopes on your desk.

Tears started to fall. You looked up to the ceiling to try and cease their descent but it was too late. 

It’s always just when it starts to get good that it’s all ripped away from you. Just when you started getting good at soccer, you broke your foot. Just when your dad started coming around, he relapsed and ran off again. Just when you got to see your moms face light up when she found out she was getting her first grandchild, you had a miscarriage. Just when you thought your life was going to be normal for once in your life, your husband had to have an affair. And just when you thought you had something in your life to look forward to, that was taken away from you, too. 

“Hey, Marcus ordered pizza, it’s in the breakroom-” The chipper voice of Mr.Clark made you jump, bringing your sleeved wrists to your eyes to hide the evidence. “Woah, hey, what’s going on? Did Carl Thompson try to set his paper on fire again? I told Ester that he needed to be searched when he gets off the bus in the morning.”

You let out a light chuckle at his attempt at humor, though there was some truth in his words…Regardless, you just shake your head and give him the best smile you can muster. “No, not today, Scott. I’m just, um, still a little emotional from the holidays?”

“Ah, yeah, I get it,” he nods his head in solidarity, “I was pretty blue after Jen left. Still not much better, really.” The thousand yard stare he gives as he says those last words make you feel a little concerned for him in the moment. You give him a look, and he instantly goes back to his normal self, “But, hey, it does get better. Valentines day probably wont help,” his eyes widen in momentary distress, “but, the staff usually have a little party at Bennigan’s, so that will be fun!”

You just nod your head, “Yeah, sure, sounds like fun…”

There’s a moment of awkward silence before Scott tsks and slowly starts moving out of the doorway to your classroom. “Well, yeah, anyway, uh, pizza’s in the breakroom.” Then he’s gone.

You wait a moment before letting out a laugh you desperately needed.

January 21st, 1995

“Open up, you’re not skipping out on another weekend!”

A groan pours from your chest, muffled by the pillow you’ve got your face buried in. Another knock comes from the front door, Robin’s voice booming from the other side. 

“Alright, alright!” You barely lift yourself from the couch to lean over the arm, twisting the knob of your front door to let your beloved friends in. As they make their way inside, you twist your body to look at the clock on the stove, but your vision is too blurry to see. “What time is it?” 

“Nine in the morning,” Steve says as he lifts up your feet to sit at the end of your couch, placing them back in his lap, “we’re going to brunch, then we’re hitting up the mall. Robin is in desperate need of a new pair of shoes.”

“I’m pretty sure I have the back of an 80 year old. Probably from carrying the weight burden of being Steve’s only friend.”

Your whole body shakes from laughter, Steve’s face only making you laugh harder, “You are not my only friend!” He gestures to you, still laying on the couch, boneless in you lack of effort to peel yourself from the couch, which doesn’t go unnoticed by Robin. 

“Oh, yeah, this barnacle of a human is totally worth calling your friend,” She says jokingly as she grabs your arm in an attempt to pull you from the couch.

“Hey,” you say defensively before starting to maneuver yourself upright, “I still move around. If I’m any sea creature I’m at least a starfish.”

“Pardon me, I’ll make sure to properly address you next time.”

After getting properly dressed and piling into Steve’s car, you let them drag you around to brunch, letting yourself have a few mimosas and eating enough appetizers that you barely touch the food you ordered. 

At the mall, you let Steve and Robin drag you from store to store. They stop and laugh at the empty spot in the food court where their old ice cream job used to be before it caught fire (neither of them would tell you how it caught fire). Eventually, Steve ran to the bathroom, leaving you and Robin to wander around the mall. 

“Why don’t you get yourself something nice?” She nudged you, tilting her head in the direction of a fancy underwear store, her eyebrows wiggling suggestively.

You scoff, rolling your eyes, “Why? Who am I gonna wear it for? You and Steve?”

Her shoulders shrug, “Hey I’m not complaining. But, you never know. Love will soon be in the air, and maybe you’ll get asked out on a date. Wouldn’t it be nice to wear something cute like that,” she points to a mauve coloured bra and panty set on one of the mannequins in the window, “rather than the same $2 pack of granny panties and K-Mart bra all the time?”

“Are you suggesting I’m going to be putting out on the first date?” You look at her with a deadpan expression.

“Hey, I’m not judging,” her hands go up defensively, “But, you’d probably feel better knowing that if you did get lucky, at least you came prepared.”

Looking into the store, then back to your friend, who gives you the best convincing face she can muster, you slump your shoulders and make your way into the store. You try on a few things, using Robin’s expert opinion to find something that pops on your colour wise and fits your body’s curves the best. 

When you emerge from the store after making your purchase, you find Steve sitting on a bench a few feet away, eyes scanning around him. Once his eyes meet the two of you, he jumps from his seat and makes his way over. 

“What the hell, you guys totally disappeared on me!”

“Relax mother bear,” Robin pats Steve on the back, “We just wanted to make a quick pit stop before we go.”

Steve eyes the bag in your hand when you lift it up for him, and his cheeks get a dusting of pink to them. “Ah, I see. Well, I guess that means we’re ready to go then?”

After making one more stop on the way home to pick up dinner, the three of you settled on Steve’s couch. Just as he went to take his spot next to Robin, the phone rang. Steve lets out a groan before making his way into the kitchen. “Harrington’s residence,” he says with his fake customer service voice, you and Robin to stifle your giggles. His face goes from annoyed to wide eyed, and a smile blooms across his face.

“You mean tonight?” He asks, eyes flicking over to yours for a moment, “Yeah, yeah, we’re just about to watch a movie, but it can wait. Do you know what time? No, no it’s fine, I know you’re busy, sir.”

Steve looks at his watch and nods his head. “Yeah, okay. We’ll be right here when he does. Thanks, Mr. Munson. Bye-bye.”

You feel your eyes go wide. Munson? Steve answers your questions before you can even think to ask them.

“So, Eddie is gonna call in, like,” he looks at his watch again, “20 minutes. His uncle said he meant to call sooner but hadn’t had the chance,” he looks at you with a quirked brow, “Is that going to be okay? You don’t have to be in the room when we talk to him if you don’t want to-”

“No, no, I’ll be fine!” You wave your hands, “Don’t do anything different on my account.”

“Are you sure?” Robin’s voice has a more teasing tone compared to Steve’s. 

“Yeah, no, it’s cool,” you sit back on the couch, trying to disguise your nerves, “Just…pretend I’m not here.” Your attention is now on the cuticles on your nails, and you miss the look of mischief on Robin’s face, along with Steve’s nod in return.

To avoid the awkwardness that started to build, you jumped up from Steve’s couch and made your way to his fridge to get a drink. Taking a long sip, you almost drop the bottle entirely when the sound of the phone ringing again makes you jump. 

A lump in your throat forms, and you feel butterflies instantly in your stomach. Shit, is that sweat on the back of your neck? You watch as Robin springs up from the couch and makes her way to stand next to Steve. When Steve picks up the phone a woman’s voice can be heard on the other end. He gives a short “yes” and the phone is quiet for a moment. Robin looks at you from over Steve’s shoulder with a smile. Then, you can hear a voice.

“Hello?”

Robin and Steve adjust themselves so that the phone is between both of their ears. “Hey, Eddie,” Robin says with a cheerful enthusiasm. 

“Sup, man,” Steve says cooly, “How’s it going?”

Your heart flutters when you hear a soft laugh from the speaker of the phone. 

“Same thing, different day. Been trying to keep myself occupied. Old man got sent to solitary again so I had to be on my toes last week. But,” he said the last word with a sing-songy voice, “I did get some good news.”

Robin and Steve look at each other, visible excitement in their eyes.

“Did you get a set date?” Robin’s ask, becoming excited and pulling the phone closer to her ear. Steve pulls it back and gives her a look.

“Yep! Only five more miserable months and then I’m a free man,” you can hear the relief in Eddie’s tone as he practically shouts into the phone. Whoops and hollers come from your two friends as they bounce around in front of you. You can’t help but feel excited for him too, eyes meeting with Robin in mutual excitement.

“That’s so awesome man,” Steve laughs into the phone, “just in time for your birthday, too.” 

“Oh, yeah! We’re definitely going to terrorize the Hideout,” Robin says.

“You have no idea how much I’m looking forward to it. Can’t wait to drink with the kids, too,” Eddie laughs.

The three of them continue their back and forth for a few minutes, talking about their mutual friends and what shenanigans that they can all get into.

“Hey, are they doing a rose festival this year?” 

You perk up at this, still standing idly by and sipping on your beer. Robin notices and smirks, “Yeah, I think so. Why do you ask?”

“I’ve been thinking about it for a couple months. You remember that pen pal thing I was telling you guys about?”

Now both sets of eyes are on you. A slight blush covers your cheeks, and you feel your heart beating faster. 

“Oh, yeah, with that teacher? Are you still doing that?” Steve winks at you. You look at him wide eyed, mouthing “what the fuck” but he just brushes you off. 

Eddie’s tone shifts, “Still writing letters, but not to her.” There’s a clear malice in his voice. Like just the thought of you made his mood sour. All the butterflies die instantly and fall into your ass at his words. Steve and Robin look at the phone confused. “What? Why?”

There’s a pause for a moment. “I can’t really go into the details. But they told me I couldn’t write her anymore. I got pissed off and told them that the reason why wasn’t fair, that I wanted to keep writing to her. Well, turns out she never liked writing to me anyway. The guy running the whole thing said that she was only “doing it out of obligation” and wasn’t the nicest person in the first place. Said she was trying to get canceled from the start, made it seem like it was a chore.”

“That’s not true!” You finally speak up, tears welling in your eyes. “I mean, it’s not totally true.”

There’s a pause, the three of you standing in complete silence for a moment.

“What?” Eddie’s voice, crackling in the receiver, is riddled with confusion, “Is someone else there? Hello?”

Grabbing the phone from Steve’s hand, you take a deep breath before bringing it to your ear. “I like getting letters from you, Eddie.”

The line is quiet for a moment. Then, he says your name softly, but like it’s a question.

“Yeah…surprise?” Your voice is small, and it matches the smile on your face. You wait for Eddie to say something in response, but there is a sudden commotion coming from his end. All you hear is him yelling back at someone before the line goes dead.

“Eddie? Eddie, hello?” Your panicked voice makes Steve grab the phone from your hand, bringing it up to his own ear. “Did he hang up?” He asks, looking at you confused, placing the phone back on the receiver.

“I-I don’t know,” you stammer, “It was quiet and then I heard some muffling and yelling. Then the line went dead.”

“Shit,” Robin places a hand on your shoulder, “You think he’s okay?”

“Can you call him back?” you look to Steve, pleading for him to do something. 

Steve shakes his head dismally, eyes darting between floor tiles, “No, only he can call us.” He shrugs, lifting his head just enough to look at you through his lashes, “We did talk for a while, maybe his time was up?”

You couldn’t help but frown at his words, your mind going to the worst case scenario of what could have happened.

“Hey,” Robin’s words brought you back, “He’s fine, don’t worry about him. He’s always been able to hold his own.” She gives you a questioning look, “You didn’t tell us that you weren’t writing to each other anymore.”

Your head rolls in frustration, “I only just found out on Thursday. Some guy died and it fucked everything up. One of my students gets to write to him now and I don’t get to do anything about it.”

Fist slamming on the counter, you feel your blood starting to boil. “I never said it was a chore to write to him. Sure, I was skeptical at first, but I haven’t said a single negative thing since the damn thing started. I just…Fuck, I knew he was going to be mad at me.”

The warmth of Steve’s hand on your back along with the weight of Robin’s head on your shoulder as she link arms with yours grounded you. You expected them to say something, but they just let you cry it out, moving you to the couch. They knew that the tears falling weren’t just because you lost a pen pal. It was a break down that was a long time coming. Everything came pouring out, letting your wound be open and exposed to the air. 

February 3rd, 1995

“-Then, you’re going to write his name, his booking number and his cell block. That’s all the stuff I told you before.”

You nod your head, as if the voice on the phone could see you. “Okay, got it. So I just write the address and stamp it now, correct?”

“Yeah,” Dustin Henderson squeaks on the other end, “And it should work. I write letters to him all the time since we don’t have a phone in our dorm. I tried to stick some blank papers in there once for him but he said they confiscated it and still made him pay for the paper he does write on. Messed up, isn’t it?”

“I know, right,” you say with an ire, placing your letter in the envelope before licking it closed, “What a way to squeeze money out of someone.”

“Totally! Anyway, I’m sure Eddie will be stoked to get your letter. Steve gave me some of the details, but when he reads what you said there’s no way Eddie can stay mad. He pretends to be a tough guy but he’s a total softy -- Don’t tell him I said that, please.”

“I promise,” you laugh, “It’s the least I can do for all your help, Dustin.”

“Hey, who am I to keep two people from falling in love,” the suave suggestion in his voice makes you blush, but you keep yourself together.

“We’re not in love, we’re barely even friends.”

“Yeah, yeah, save it for the wedding. Which I better be the best man for!” 

“I think you’re breaking up, Dustin! Thank you for your help! Byeeee!”

Leaning against the wall next to the phone, you take in a deep breath before letting it out and up with exasperation. Holding the envelope between your fingers, smoothing your thumbs over the edges, you stare at his name for a moment. The envelope feels heavier than normal, but that’s the difference that writing three front and back pages will do. 

Three pages, all written with your heart. The invisible eye of judgment that looked over you when you wrote your letters before had disappeared. You felt the need to explain yourself after everything that had transpired. You didn’t sugar coat anything, because that wouldn’t be fair. But, you hoped that when you explained your background a little that he would understand your reservations. It only seemed fair to tell him that you knew more about him than you let on in your last letter, hoping that when you explained how Robin and Steve had entered your lives that it would clear up any misunderstandings.

It was hard to write, but you concluded the letter by telling him that you would understand if he still hated you. If he didn’t want to talk to you ever again, you would respect that, even if it meant having to distance yourself from your friends. You signed with your own rendition of a small rose next to it, and made the last minute decision to add your apartment phone number at the very bottom. You didn’t want to get your hopes up, but you put it there just in case.

February 14th, 1995

As the final bell rang for the day, you wished your students a safe trip home, reminding them to have their homework packets done by Thursday. Once the last student filed out, you wasted no time getting to tearing down the pink and red decor that had been haunting you for the last two weeks. You’d not been a big fan of Valentine’s Day to begin with. Even when you and Henry were still together he had only really put in any effort the first year or two. Then it just became mundane and predictable. He’d take you to dinner, get a little wine in you, and expect you on your knees once you got home. 

It was almost nice to spend a year doing something different for once.

“Hey, Anita wanted to get a head count tonight to make sure we have enough seats. You’re still good to go, right?” 

“Yeah,” you turned to see Scott at your door, “I’ll be there, 6 sharp! Just going to run home and get out of my teacher costume.”

Mr.Clark laughed at that, “Alright, see you later then!” He gave a little wave before he tucked himself back out into the hall. 

After cleansing your classroom of any signs of love, you made your way home to get ready. Even though Steve was a little bummed you wouldn’t be joining him and Robin for a night of cheap chocolate and shitty made for TV movies, Robin was more than happy to hear that you wanted to get out of your shell and make more friends. “Don’t forget to wear that set you got!”

And you did. Not that you expected anything to happen, but she was right about feeling good in it, even if it was just for yourself. Self love counts on Valentine’s Day.

When you came home later that night, you were still in a fit of giggles from the excitement at dinner. Between the surprise karaoke set up and the look on Scott's face when Mrs.Blaine pulled him back to the bathrooms during the peak of the night, you’d dare to say that you’d had a good time. You’d even limited yourself to one drink before switching to water.

As you peeled your jacket and boots off the red flashing of your answering machine caught your eye. You walk over to the machine, letting it play as you walk around the apartment.

“You have: two missed messages. First message.”

BEEP.

“Hi, darling.”

You stop mid step. Goosebumps cover all of your body at the sound of his voice. You hadn’t heard it in months. Almost a year now.

“I’m sorry I missed you…In more ways than one I suppose. I’m guessing you’re probably out with Stephen tonight. I saw the two of you out with your friend at the mall a few weeks back.”

A pause in the message has you wondering if he hung up after that.

“I…I guess I just wanted to say that I hope you’re doing well. You looked as much, and they way he looked at you…Well, I guess I can’t comment. Hope you have a good night. Love you.”

Love you.

You scoff. 

“Second message.”

BEEP.

“This call is coming from Pendleton Correctional Facility from:”

“Eddie Munson.”

Quicker than you’ve ever moved before, you’re sure your feet barely touch the ground as you make your way to your living room. 

“Hello? Oh was that a beep? Shit, sorry.” He was clearly flustered, his fumbling only made you feel giddy like you were listening to a voicemail from your crush.

“Let me start over. Hi, it’s Eddie,” he laughs, “I hope it’s not weird for me to call today. They only make you pay half as much if you tell them you’re calling your old lady. Not that I’m saying you are my-my, uh, girl or whatever.” You could almost picture how red he must have been as he was talking. You couldn’t help but bury your face in your hands and falling over on your couch, floundering around at the implication.

“I would have called sooner, but I had to wait for your number to be added to my approved call list. Just, uh, wanted to let you know I got your letter. I wrote you one back, but I’m waiting on a stamp. The freaking ran out since everyone is sending love letters. So as soon as they get more I’ll be shipping that out to you. But…I wanted to tell you that I’m not mad. That Bridges, he’s a real asshole. He keeps bragging about how as long as the project goes well then he gets a bonus.”

You were shocked at first, but it all made sense when you thought about it. In your gut, you knew there was no way his sunny demeanor was genuine. His insistence on your participation as well. He probably would have lost money if you hadn’t taken on his offer.

“And as much as I hate the guy, I gotta admit that we wouldn’t be…whatever this is without him. On that note, I also feel like I need to get something off my chest.”

Heart beating a million beats per second, you sit up straight, keeping your eyes on the machine as if it would disappear if you looked away for even a second. 

“I may or may not have known a little bit about you before all of this happened, too. Before we started writing to each other actually, thanks to the wonder twins telling me all about their new friend whose asshole husband cheated on her with a girl 15 years younger than him. They would talk about you any time I called and I started to look forward to meeting you when I got out. That hasn’t really changed…” The audio is muffled for a moment, where he probably put his hand over the receiver, “Alright, jeez get off my back, Tony. I’ll be done in a fucking minute. Sorry,” his voice becomes clear again, “these guys are jerks. Anyway, to make a long story short, I think that we should just put the stupid shit with Bridges behind us, start over, or pick up where we left off. I think that it’ll make more sense when you read my letter. So, yeah. Um, have a happy Valentine’s day and…live long and prosper. Bye!”

BEEP.

“No new messages. Two old messages.”

May 27th, 1995

A breeze blows gently through your apartment, billowing your curtains lightly. Lightening Crashes by Live transitions into Only Wanna Be With You by Hootie and the Blowfish on the little radio that you picked up from Melvald’s on clearance. You hum along, wiping sweat from your forehead as you continue to mop your kitchen floor. “I only wanna be with youuuuuu~,” you belt out into the empty apartment.

The phone rings in the living room, and you look at the clock. Shit, it was noon already? You scramble to turn the radio down, careful not to knock over the empty wine bottles that sat next to the sink, drain rung red. You hop over the coffee table, planting your butt on the cushion and picking up the phone. The automated message plays, and you mutter a little yeah, yeah, yeah as it speaks. Hearing Eddie’s voice gets you curling up against the arm of the couch. You give a quick yes, and soon you’re connected.

“Hello?” 

You try and hide your excitement, but fail miserably as you reply. “Hi, Eddie!” 

“Happy first day of no school! How did last night go?” His voice was full of genuine interest, you could almost imagine the grin he has on his face.

“It went really well! I had to take Mr.Clark home afterwards, but I didn’t have a single drink! I also don’t think I’ve had a single migraine since we last talked.”

Eddie’s laugh told you that he was definitely cheesing on his end. “That’s so awesome, Sweetheart! I’m super proud of you.”

His praises made you melt, his smooth voice not helping.

After Eddie’s message on Valentine’s day in combination of his letter, the two of you agreed to try your friendship again from scratch. It was never spoken between you two, but you’re sure that after all the things you’ discussed on that first real phone call just between the two of you that Robin and Steve were planning to set you two up, even before the prison project. When you asked them about it, they just played dumb so you just put it to rest. 

Your dreams had also changed. Once the door that was closed was now open, the two of you sit facing each other. Sometimes you would talk, sometimes the dream would only last for a few moments. Either way, the feeling was different now. There was no fear, he just needed to cross the threshold to get to you.

Eddie has been calling every other Saturday at noon since. You’d drive to his uncle’s trailer after every call to give him money to put on Eddie’s commissary, shocked the first time to see the man you spent some of Christmas Day with. You had been too far gone to remember his name, which you apologized profusely for. He told you it was no big deal, and insisted on showing you some hospitality and some old photos of Eddie when he was younger.

Eventually it became routine. Wake up, get everything prepped, talk to Eddie until eventually Tony (who apparently thinks he gets to tell people how long that can use the phone) kicks him off, take food to Wayne’s, and then spend the evening with Steve and Robin. It took a lot of energy out of you at first, but when you confided in your friends about your drinking problem, it started to feel like less of a chore as your energy started to come back. 

“What have ya got made up for Wayne today?” Eddie asks.

“He told me he really liked my hash brown casserole I made a few weeks ago, so I got that ready for him before I started cleaning this morning.”

“Damn, he did say somethin’ about you making a good casserole. I’m gonna get a belly on me if you’re gonna be cookin’ like that,” his pained sounds at missing out on your food has you squirming in your seat. You couldn’t pinpoint when it really started, but as your phone calls became more frequent, the two of you talked more and more about things that you wanted to do together.

It started out as group activities. He wanted you to come to a D&D game. You wanted to go with him and Steve and Robin to this cute farmers market your coworker told you about. He wanted to try and get a gig at the hideout so he could show you how good his band sounds. You wanted to have a get together at Steve’s when he comes home. He wants to take you to this really nice restaurant in town. You want to bring him with you to Chicago some time when you are out visiting your brother. He wants to take you to the movies. You want to take him to the new record store opening this summer. 

It would be a lie to say that his promises didn’t make you hopeful. You had to constantly remind yourself that he didn’t even know what you looked like. He could say all these things to you on the phone, and he could just as easily book it if you weren’t what he was expecting. 

“Oh, I was thinking-” you started.

“That’s never a good sign,” he teased.

“Ha ha, so funny, Munson,” you fake offense, “Anyway, I was thinking we could go see the new Batman movie when you get out. Robin and Steve keep debating on if Val Kilmer is going to play a good Batman, but I just want to see Jim Carry as the Riddler.”

“I don’t know, have you ever sat through a movie with them?” He questions.

“Uh, yeah, plenty--oh, okay I see your point,” you say, thinking about how much the two of them talk during a movie just at Steve’s. They were probably menaces in a movie theater. 

“Yeah, it would probably be better if just the two of us go. Save us a headache,” he suggests. 

“Sounds like a date, then,” you say, curious of his reaction. It’s quiet for a moment before he speaks again.

“A date? Yeah, sure, yeah, that,” he sounds nervous.

“I’m just messing with you, Eddie,” you say to save face, hoping to hide any disappointment in your voice.

“Oh,” his tone sounds sad, dejected even, “Yeah, sure.”

You were going to say something until you heard Tony’s voice yelling. Both of you let out a sigh in unison. 

“Alright, I guess I’ll hear from you in two weeks?” You don’t even bother to hide your disappointment anymore.

“Yeah. Wish it was sooner…”

“Hey, only two more months, Eddie,” you try to lift his spirits.

“Two more months,” he mirrors back.

After you say your goodbyes, you quickly get cleaned up to head over to Wayne’s. His old truck sits in the driveway, and you catch him finishing up mowing the grass. You pop the casserole in the oven while he gets cleaned up, using the spare time to pick up a few things here and there. Wayne’s tried to tell you guests don’t get to clean up, but you just ignored him until he gave up, asking him if it was really the hill he wanted to die on.

The two of you chatted, eventually migrating out to the front porch to enjoy the steady nice weather. 

“Do you think Eddie will like me?” you ask nonchalantly, keeping your eyes on a crack beneath your feet.

Wayne stops mid puff and looks at you confused.

“What?” you ask, trying to play it off.

“Is that a rhetorical question?” he asks, blowing the smoke away from you.

“No, I mean…What if he thinks I’m something I’m not? What if he’s disappointed when he meets me?”

Wayne barks out a laugh, “Oh, trust me, he won’t. I already know exactly what’s gonna happen, and it’s not him running away with his tail between his legs.”

“What do you thinks going to happen?” you ask with concern.

He just smiles, eyes fixed on the sunset.

July 26th, 1995

Your hands smooth out the fabric of your dress for the hundredth time, opting for something simple yet flattering and pairing it with some nice jewelry. “Are you sure this is okay?”

Robin was laying across Steve’s bed, swinging her legs and staring at the ceiling. “For the millionth time, yes, you look hot. He’s gonna fall to his knees when he sees you.”

You walk over to the bed and plop down next to her, “And for the millionth time, it’s not like that Robin. I…,” you fiddle with your rings as you stare at Steve’s ceiling fan spinning above you, “What if I’m not what he’s expecting? I know what he looks like, but he’s only going off of what he’s been told about me. What if when he gets here, he takes one look at me and-”

“Okay, listen,” Robin places a hand delicately over your mouth, “First of all, Eddie is going to have to pick his jaw off the floor when he sees you. I promise you that.” You look over to her next to you, smiling under her hand. “Second, if it’s not “like that,” then why are you wearing that matching set you got when we went to the mall?” The hand on your mouth moves to your shoulder where she snaps your bra strap against your skin.

You jump up from the bed trying to hide the blush in your face when a knock on the door draws both of your attention.

“Hey, are you two done playing dress up in there? Jane and Max need help getting all the food set up.”

“On it,” you say as you open the bedroom door, sliding past Steve to get away from Robin before she can ask any more questions. 

You wipe the sweat from the back of your neck, bouncing Nancy and Jonathan’s two year old daughter on your hip. Nancy was telling you about her latest article in the New York times when Dustin’s shrieking voice caught everyone’s attention.

“HE’S HERE! HE’S HERE!” Dustin yells from the front yard, and you can hear the sound of a car playing metal music on full blast getting closer, before cutting off completely.

You hand Nancy her toddler back, not trusting yourself to be able to hold her as your hands start to shake. A lump fills your throat, and it suddenly feels way hotter than it did a second ago. You’re surrounded by excited whispers and the rustling of Gareth getting into a cooler to grab a beer. 

And then it’s the skin to skin contact of Mike brushing past you and the squealing of Max and Jane from the other side of the yard as two bodies emerge from around the side of the house. A usually bald head covered in a dark brown cowboy hat, followed by a mop of curls that bounce with excitement. Bodies flocked around him; you note that he’s taller than most, say for Mike and Argyle. Everyone is taking their turns to greet him, and you’re hit with a realization that this is a family. A weird, mixed found family, who clearly have a bond that can’t be broken by time, and you were lucky enough to be accepted by them.

“Hey, there little missy,” Wayne’s voice breaks you from your trance, his arms open expectantly. The normally gruff and distant man was all smiles today, for good reason.

“Hi Wayne,” you wrap your arms around him, patting him on the back before pulling away, “How was the drive?”

“Lord,” he says, shaking his head, “That boy ain’t changed a bit. Either talked my ear off or played music loud enough that I’ll need hearing aids.” He looked over to Eddie, who was still being mobbed by the other party guests, “But, it was worth it.”

You hum in agreement, watching as Robin talks to Eddie. She points your way, and before you can prepare yourself his gaze meets yours. Even from a distance you can see the sun hitting his eyes just right, honey brown orbs locked on you. You lift your hand up to give him a small wave, and the biggest grin you’ve ever seen spreads across his face. You’re sure your face must be beat red, and you shift your eyes suddenly feeling shy. Eddie places a hand on Dustin’s shoulder and moves him to the side, making a beeline to you and Wayne.

Gravity felt like it was magnifying with each step he made, and everything around him was blurry. Every nerve in your body felt like a live wire. You’re sure you weren’t even this nervous on your wedding day. You smooth out your dress again, the fabric brushing against your skin leaving a tingling feeling behind. Each stride he takes gives you an opportunity to examine him further, to see the dimples in his cheeks, the lines in the corners of his eyes where his smile reaches them, the littering of light freckles and other imperfections.

He stopped just in front of you, his body rocking back to maintain a space between you. His hands were tucked in his jean pockets with his arms tight to his body. It reminded you of a kid trying his hardest to keep his hands to himself. 

“Hey,” his voice was even nicer in person.

“Hi.” It came out small. You were trying to be cool, but kept your head low to hide the smile on your face. He shifted where he stood, bending and twisting to force himself into your vision. The girlish giggle that came out of you was unrecognizable. You look up to him as he makes himself upright again. “It’s nice to finally meet you in person.”

He shuffles his feet, probably a nervous habit. “Yeah, no kidding,” his head tilts and he looks at you with one eye, “I know being locked up for 5 years didn’t really do a lot of good to me, but, uh, I hope that I still hold up to the pictures you’ve seen of me.” 

 “I’d say it wasn’t all bad,” you look him up and down playfully, “You look…mature. I’d venture to even call you handsome.” It was his turn to act bashful now, bringing a hand to rub against his stubble. The both of you laugh, exchanging glances before you speak again, “Was I what you were expecting?”

He leans his body back, the huge smile returning to dimple his cheeks again. “Are you kidding me? Even better than I imagined. You didn’t do yourself justice, ya know.”

“Stop, you’re gonna make me blush,” you whine and curl into yourself, kicking at the ground.

“Too late for that,” Steve says as he slaps Eddie’s shoulder, “Now, if the two of you are done pretending not to like each other over here, we got food to eat. Who wants a hamburger!”

The yard is alive with chatter and Eddie makes his rounds to catch up. One of the guys who you’re pretty sure is named Jeff, makes him shotgun a beer with him and everyone cheers when Eddie crushes the can on his head. “Henderson,” he yells pointing at Dustin in the pool, “you’re next! Gotta make up for all the lost time since I missed your 21st birthday!” 

“That’s a lot of drinking to do,” Jane says with a worried look on her face. You look at her where she sits next to you on the edge of the pool and pat her back.

“It was nice knowing them, I guess.”

Max snorts from the other side of El, making all three of you erupt in a fit of giggles. You stop when you feel a hand on your shoulder. Looking up into the sweet chocolate eyes, he kneels down and you can smell the beer on his breath. “Hey, you doing okay? Me drinking isn’t gonna bother you, right? Do you want another water bottle?”

He’s been doing this for the last 2 hours, leaving his conversations to check in on  you, even before he started drinking. Not that you were complaining, you relished in the attention he was giving you. Where at parties with Henry you were there to be seen and not heard, Eddie made you feel like the party was for you. Putting your plate together for you, standing just behind you when you talked in a group, undoing your shoes for you when you said you wanted to drip your feet in the pool. When you told him to stop hovering and enjoy his friends, he did so reluctantly, stealing glances your way like he was scared you’d be gone if his eyes weren’t on you.

“Eddie, I promise I can handle you and everyone else here drinking,” you give him a warm smile, “And I’m okay, thank you for asking.”

“Please drink Dustin under the table,” Lucas groans as he swims up to the edge of the pool, resting his chin on Max’s knee, “He thinks he can handle his alcohol well and I need to see you put him in his place.”

“Hey!” Dustin shouts as he exits the pool. 

The night starts to wind down a few hours later. Some people are gone and others are sitting by the fire pit reminiscing on times you weren’t present for. You take it upon yourself as one of the only sober people to start picking up the stray cans and solo cups that had been scattered around the pool area and putting away any of the food that was still good. The sound of the sliding glass door opening caught your attention as you were cleaning up Steve’s kitchen. Eddie shut the door behind him, walking over to stand on the other side of the island.

“I was wondering where you ran off to,” he leaned on the counter top, propping his head in his hands with the dopiest grin.

“You’ve been slacking,” you tease as you place some dishes in the sink, “I think I’ve been cleaning for at least an hour now. Not doing a very good job at keeping tabs on me.”

“Okay, for the record,” he points a finger up and staggers a bit, “I could see you, and I wanted to stop you from cleaning. Buuuuuuuut, Robin told me you always clean up and get upset if anyone tries to stop you. So I figured I’d let you enjoy yourself.” He shrugged.

“I just respect Steve enough to not leave a mess. It is a little therapeutic in a way.” You move to stand closer to him, leaning against the edge of the counter perpendicular to him, arms just shy of touching. You watched as he fidgeted with a ring on his finger. “How is it going out there? It looked like Dustin and Gareth were passed out in their chairs.”

When he didn’t respond, you brought your attention up to meet his stare. His eyes were dark, the shine of the sun no longer bringing out the umber, now almost black under the warm light above him. They flickered as they stared into yours, back and forth like he was searching for an answer only you could give him. If you weren’t so acutely aware of your close proximity, you might not notice how he subtly leans closer, closer. You close your eyes.

“ED-DAYYYYYYYYYYY!”

The sudden noise was enough to make you jump almost out of your skin. You’re white knuckling the counter as you turn to see Dustin, Lucas, and Steve stumble inside, with Jane, Mike, and Max not far behind trying to help keep all three of them from falling over each other. 

“Jesus H. CHRIST, Henderson!” Eddie screeches, slapping the top of the counter. 

“Oh, there he is!” Dustin leans backwards, Jane holding him up, “Hey, guys, I found Eddie! He’s in here with his girlfriend! Oh shit where you guys in here suckin’ face? My bad my-”

“Okay, okay, come on lets get your shit together,” Eddie interrupts waving his hands around, “Or else you’re all sleeping on the floor.”

“I don’t wanna sleep on the floooor,” Steve whines like a child, throwing himself into Mike where they almost fall over.

“Well, it’s a good thing you have a bedroom here, dingus,” Robin walks backwards through the doorway, carrying a pair of feet with her. The feet belong to a very passed out Gareth, whose top half was being carried in by Jeff.

“Oh for fucks sake,” Eddie runs over to Gareth's side, picking him up and carrying him bridal style to the couch. You reel back as you watch him carry Gareth like he weighs nothing, his biceps flexing catching your attention. Damn, did it get hot in here?

You helped Robin get Steve up the stairs so she could put him to bed while the others got themselves situated. When you came down, you said your goodbyes to Mike, Will and Jane as they made their departure for the night. Max elected to stay with Lucas since she didn’t see well at night to drive, dragging him up to the spare bedroom. Gareth is still passed out on the couch, propped up with a towel under him in case he pukes. Jeff says he’s going to sit with him until he sobers up enough that he won’t ruin the interior of his new car.

Eddie got Dustin set up in another spare bedroom and made his way down the stairs. “God, my first day back and I can already tell nothing has changed.” He’s shaking his head, but the smile on his face gives him away.

“Are you usually the dad of the friend group?” You lean against the entryway wall, watching him as he walks over to you.

“How did you know?” He chuckled, putting up an arm and leaning into the doorway over you. The move was so smooth, and you felt the butterflies go straight from your stomach to between your legs. You sucked in a breath, “Oh, just a hunch.”

His eyes lock with yours for a moment, and his smile falters. He looks around for a moment, leaning over you to look into the living room, his chest pressing into you softly. Whatever he was looking for must not have been too important, bringing his attention back to you.

“So, I really hope I haven’t been reading into this wrong,” he says lowly, head nodding between the two of you, “‘cause I’ve been dying to do this all night.”

His hand cups your cheek as he leans in. He moves slowly, to give you an out if this isn’t what you want. But when you lean into him, he wastes no time closing the gap the rest of the way. His other hand moves from above you and lands on that spot on your neck and under your ear. His weight shifts, pressing you into the frame with his body and your hands to his chest, fisting the fabric to keep him in place. Your senses are flooded with dollar store detergent and his sweat after being out in the sun.

You never believed in that spark when you kissed someone before, but the way his plump, chapped lips move with yours has your body feeling like the 4th of July. And when his tongue swipes against your bottom lip, the taste of cheap beer mixes with the lemonade you were sipping earlier. He pulls away, just far enough to kiss you over and over and over and over amplified by the stickiness of your lip gloss that’s transferred to him. But you’re insatiable, and you chase him. Touch starved doesn’t even begin to touch it. 

His hands move from your face down to your hips, moving you from the doorway to the darkness of the small hallway. Just in time as you heard the sliding glass door open and shut, then the sound of Jeff plopping down in one of the recliners. Eddie didn’t give you time to dwell on anything other than him, pulling your hips flush into his and grinding against you. 

And, lord, you felt it. 

The small gasp you let out has Eddie smirking into your kiss. He breaks away, leaning into your neck to whisper in your ear. “I’ve had a long time to think about all the things I want to do to you,” he bites at your earlobe and you moan, clenching your thighs. 

“All the ways I want to touch you,” he kisses down your neck, “tease you. I bet you like being teased, don’t you?”

 “N-no,” you whisper with a shake of your head. A whimper falls from your lips as his teeth gently scrape over a spot on your neck. “Don’t wanna be teased.”

He hums, kissing back up your neck to your lips again. “Awe,” he chuckles, eyes meeting with yours again, heavy lidded and pupils blown out, “you just want me to ruin that pussy, don’t you?” 

Frantically nodding you press your lips back into his, but he pulls away leaving you to whine in frustration. “Easy, now, sweetheart. I’m just as eager as you, but I wanna do this right.” He grabs the skirt of your dress, pulling it up to get access to your legs. You don’t get the chance to protest before he’s picking you up. You wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his shoulders. The hardness in his pants is pressing directly into your core where you’re sure your panties must be soaked. 

Not bothering to be stealthy Eddie carries you as fast as he can up the stairs. You can’t contain your giggles as he pushes you up against the door to his new bedroom. While stealing a few more kisses, he goes to grab the knob, but doesn’t get the chance when the door swings open behind you. He puts you down quickly to keep you from falling backwards, and you whip around to be met with a half awake Max.

“What the fuck,” she asks rubbing sleep from her eyes, “what’s going on?”

Eddie looks like a kicked puppy,  his jaw slack and eyebrows knit together in a pout.

“I thought you guys left?”

“What? No? It’s way too dark. You know I can’t drive at night,” she crosses her arms looking at him confused.

“Damn it,” he looks at the door to his right, “and I put Henderson in the extra room.”

“Sorry, Max,” you speak up, “he was just trying to figure out where he was sleeping tonight. You can go back to sleep. Good night!”

She eyes you suspiciously before wishing you a goodnight and closing the door. When you turn to look at Eddie, you see that he’s about to open the other bedroom door.

“Eddie, what are you doing,” you whisper yell. He hesitates before he reaches the door knob.

“I’m gonna get Henderson and put him in bed with Harrington.” He goes to grab the knob and you reach for his hand to stop him. He looks distressed, but you can’t help but laugh. It had only been a little over a year that you’d gone without any sexual contact with another person, but you could clearly tell that Eddie was struggling after going as long as he had with the opportunity dangling right in front of his face. 

“Can I make a suggestion before you start displacing people in their sleep?”

He nods, hopeful eyes on you.

“My apartment is like 10 minutes away,” you step closer to press yourself against him, “There’s a gas station on the way. We can stop and-”

Before you can finish he’s grabbing you by the middle and carrying you over his shoulder down the stairs and straight out the door, not bothering to close the front door behind him.

“Which car is yours?” He’s swinging you around playfully as he looks at all the cars lined up on the street and in the driveway.

“I’ll tell you, but we’re not going to get anywhere without my keys!” 

“Fuck!” He smacks your ass before placing you on the ground. “Where are they?”

“In my purse on the counter-”

He takes off, running through the front door and back faster than you think you’ve ever seen anyone move. Tossing your purse to you he follows you as you move to where you parked on the road, pulling out your keys and unlocking the door. 

“Eddie, hold on,” you giggle, pushing your butt into him in a futile attempt to get your door open. Your keys jingle as you try and get the right one into the lock to your apartment. Eddie’s hands were everywhere as he pressed himself further into you, kissing up and down your neck and shoulder. “It’s only going to take longer to get inside if you’re distracting me-hee~”

He relented with a whine, chin resting on your shoulder and hands lingering on your hips as he waited patiently. Once you finally opened the door you stepped in and flicked on a light, Eddie hot on your trail. When you turned around to face him, you were expecting to be met with his lust filled eyes, but you were surprised to find him looking around your apartment with wide eyes. You took the time to admire him again, much like you did earlier. He looked like he belonged there, like he fit with the cozy atmosphere you had cultivated since you moved in. He would have looked so out of place in the sterile white of your home with Henry. 

“It’s cute,” he says looking at some of the artwork you have hanging on the walls, “exactly what I was expecting.”

“Oh, so you were expecting me to take you back to my apartment?” You eye him with a smirk. He looks down at his feet before tilting his head to look at you.

“Only for the last four months.”

Chills run up your body. He’s been thinking about you, like…this, for 4 months.

“Only four months?” You step to him, craning your neck to look into his eyes. The pink on his cheeks more prominent this close.

“Well, sort of. Honestly been thinking about you since you sent me that letter about yourself, what you looked like. Again, you didn’t do yourself justice,” he leans down to kiss your nose, “But, I, uh, didn’t really start thinking about you until we got to talk for real.” His hands snaked around your waist, sliding down to grab handfuls of your ass. 

“Something about your voice,” he leaned in for a quick kiss, “hearing you laugh at my dumb jokes,” another kiss, “the way you say my name. “Hi Eddie.”” He mocks you, exaggerating the sultry inflection of your words. Smacking a hand on his chest, you both laugh, and he pulls you in closer. 

“Well I’ve been thinking about you longer,” you say as you pull on the hem of his shirt. His brows quirk up at you in surprise.

“Really? And I thought I was pushing my luck tonight. Was worried all our talking was just you being nice to me.”

“God, Eddie, you’ve been away for way too long if you couldn’t tell I’ve been flirting with you by now.”

“Hey,” he raises his hands defensively, “I’ve never gotten my hopes up about a girl flirting with me before, and I wasn’t about to start.”

It hurt your heart to hear him say that. Robin said Eddie wasn’t super popular in high school, and didn’t have the best luck in the dating department before he was incarcerated. Which was a shame because he’s such a sweet guy and deserves to feel wanted. The ache between your legs came back when you realized that you might get to be the first person ever to make him feel that way.

You lean up to kiss him again, lingering there for a moment before you take a step back. He leans in to chase you,but you keep taking steps back. When he opens his eyes, he sees the mischievous look on your face and smiles wildly. Just as you turn to take off to your room, he launches after you, making you squeal as he chases you down the short hallway. Once passed the threshold of your bedroom doorway he wrapped his arms around you, planting kisses all over your face. You giggled as he walked you to the edge of your bed, planting a kiss on your lips and guiding you down, down, until you were sat. 

The mood shifted from playful to hot the moment his tongue slipped out in search of yours. His hands were suddenly on your knees, bunching and shifting the fabric of your dress. The metal of his rings was cold against the hot skin of your thighs. His fingertips felt rough to the touch compared to your smooth skin, the sensation lingering as his hand crept closer and closer to where you wanted him, needed him. 

“Holy shit,,” he inhaled sharply though his nose when his fingers reached the fabric of your panties,“This is happening.” An incredulous chuckle left his lips, and he let his fingers loop the waistband, snapping it back to your skin. 

Just when you thought he was going to take the plunge, his hands continued to creep up your body. His touch was feather light, gliding up your sides, slowly, slowly, until you felt him right under your rib cage, below the cups of your bra. He hesitated for a moment, and you weren’t sure he even realized that he had stopped kissing you. The low light of the moon shining through your blinds illuminated him just enough that you could see him swallow. Where had all that big talk gone from earlier.

“Eddie.”

His shift to yours and you hold his stare. Your hands move down your own body, gliding over his hands from the top of your dress, down, until you grab the hem of the dress yourself. His grip tightens as you pull the fabric up, up, exposing your legs, your stomach, chest, until it’s up and over your head. You toss the offending garment to the floor, and meet Eddie’s eyes again. Leaning back on one hand, you grab the collar of his shirt, pulling him in so his lips just ghosted over yours.

“I thought you’d been thinking all this time about what you wanna do to me?”

That was all exactly what was needed to break Eddie of his nerves. One of his tattooed hands flew from your ribs to your chin, fingers squishing your cheeks to purse your lips. He looked down at you over his bottom lashes, lips curling into a devilish smile. 

“I’ll do my best, but I can’t promise to be gentle. Tell me if you need me to stop. Got it?”

You shook your head the best you could in his grip, your thighs rubbing together at his shift in demeanor. His lips were on yours in an instant, hand slipping from your face, down your neck, shoulder, before slipping behind your back. He shifted his weight, placing a leg between yours so his knee was fully pressing against your heat. His other hand snaked around your side, meeting his other hand. In one swift motion the constricting hold your bra had on you was gone, and the weight of your chest shifted as the garment lay flimsily against you. You shimmied your shoulders, lifting one arm out of the strap, and then the other. Eddie grabbed it, flinging it off of where it still covered you as if it personally offended him.

His mouth was on you again. Starting at your lips, moving down your neck, nipping, biting all the way to the swell of your breast. His hands make their move, wasting no time as they began to grope and pull. He took a nipple in one hand and did an experimental roll, the sensation causing you to arch into him, and your hips roll into his knee, hitting that hard spot just right against your clit. Your eyes cross for a moment, and you barely get time to recover before he’s taking your other nipple into his mouth, flicking his tongue in tandem with the rolls of the other. All the sensations creating a perfect symphony of pleasure that you hadn’t felt in years, if ever.

You don’t hold back as moans fall from your lips, and they only egg Eddie on more. His mouth releases your nipple with a wet pop causing you to whine out in protest, only made worse when his whole body pulls away to stand at the edge of your bed. Even in the mostly dark room, you’re still able to enjoy the show as he strips himself of his shirt.

His biceps flexing already had you feeling hot, but your breath hitches in your chest as you take in Eddie’s bare chest. Some of the tattoos you recognize from the picture of him and Steve, but there are new pieces that fill in a good majority of his chest and parts of his stomach. He’s tone, even more so now than in his earlier twenties. Your head spins as you follow his happy trail down to where he’s undoing his belt. When he pushes his jeans down to the ground, your jaw hits the floor when you see the tightly pitched tent in his boxers. 

When he clears his throat, you quickly shut your jaw and look at him with embarrassment. “See something you like,” he smirks. Your head nods dumbly, still in awe at the man before you. He rubs his hand over his stubble shyly, curling into his shoulder at your admission.

However, his bashfulness didn’t last long as he leaned forward, grabbed you by the calves and pulled you until your ass was at the edge of the mattress, making you lose your balance and fall flat on the bed. He holds your legs up, moving to stand between them. Leaning forward he kissed you on the lips, pulling your bottom lip between his teeth when he pulled away. Then, in a move you weren’t expecting, he dropped on his knees and began kissing on your inner thighs.

“W-what are you doing?” you asked as you propped yourself on your elbows, watching him make little marks on your skin.

“What do you mean?” he doesn’t look up, only switching to your other leg as he moved closer to your clothed slit.

“Sh-shit,” you whimpered as his mouth landed on your mound, licking over where you’d soaked the center of your panties, “w-hat are you doing down there?”

“Oh, pretty girl,” he looked up at you from between your legs, “I’m going to eat this wonderful meal that you’ve so kindly warmed up for me.” Before you know it, he’s biting and pulling the material away from your cunt, leaning back and pulling away just enough to pull them off. 

And then he’s on you, wasting no time getting his mouth on you. A hand flew straight to the curls on the top of his head as he began in ministrations. His flattened tongue licked a slow stripe all the way from your hole to your clit, stopping on the bud to flick his tongue back and forth. 

“H-ooooohh my god,” your words came out breathy, and you subconsciously ground your hips into this tongue as he lit the fire in you. “Eddie- t-that, ah, don’t stop!”

He hummed into you as his tongue slid down to your hole, wasting no time plunging his tongue inside. Your breath hitches as the breach, curses falling from your lips as your head lulls back. He pulls away for a moment, a thumb gliding to your clit to keep you going as he speaks.

“Baby, has anyone ever eaten you out before?”

“N-no-o, ffffuck, never,” you stutter out, lifting your head to look at him again. You were met with an expression that you could only describe as wild excitement. His eyes practically had hearts in them.

“Well, shit, I was just going to get you warmed up for me, but I’m definitely gonna make you cum on my face.”

Your face was flush red with embarrassment. Henry never did anything like this with you. He barely made you cum in anyway, leaving you to get yourself off on your own. So the idea of cumming on Eddie’s face only stoked the flames in you more. 

His mouth wrapped around your clit once again, sucking and licking, making you cry his name with the remaining breath in your lungs. When you didn’t think it could get better, you felt the roughness of Eddie’s finger at your entrance, pushing in, and working you to the knuckle. The curling motion of his pointer was like throwing gas on the flame. Losing the strength in your arms, you flopped onto the bed with a gasp, hands shooting to grip in Eddie’s short curls. “Oh, oh fuck — ah!” 

Eddie let out a small moan when you pulled. He was smirking against your mound, eyes watching you wriggle and writhe before him. You were so responsive to all his touches and he was sure that he was leaving a stain on the inside of boxers from how much you were turning him on. He needed you. Bad. But he wanted to make you melt under him first. So he added another finger and could feel the way you clenched around him, how your whole body was going stiff, that he was so close to getting you right where he wanted you. 

His name spewed from your mouth between some curses when the flame finally took over and had you seeing white. You clenched your thighs around his head, shaking as your orgasm ripped through you. Broken gasps and cries barely left your lips before breaking out in a pant, chest heaving as you come down from the high. 

Eddie stood from where he was between you, taking the moment to grab the condoms that he shoved in his back pocket earlier in the car. Taking one and setting on the night stand, he turned to find you watching him. You already looked so fucked out, but there was anticipation in your eyes as he approached you. Taking his time to tease you, he pulled his boxers down slowly, watching your eyes widen when it sprung out and smacked against his stomach. He wanted to say something funny at the look of concern on your face, but all that came out was, “It’ll fit, promise.”

Wordlessly you nodded. Watching Eddie saunter over to you as he put the condom on felt like watching a predator about to devour his prey. Once he was back where he belonged, he leaned down to kiss you, hand on your cheek. The lingering taste of your own release on his lips. There was hunger, passion in his kiss. No words, and yet it felt like he was pouring his heart out to you. 

You hummed in surprise as you felt the fat head of his cock nudging at your entrance, begging for permission. You rolled your hips with a small whimper against his lips. 

“Oh, fu-u-uck,” the words stuttered from his mouth as he finally pushed himself inside. Your breath caught at the feeling of him splitting you open, a new heat igniting in your body. Even with the condom you could feel every bump and curve, how hard he was as he pushed himself into you. When he was fully inside, opened your eyes and were met with the prettiest sight; Eddie’s face mere inches from yours, looking strained, yet relieved, all just from being inside of you. 

While he was trying to regain his composure, you were starting to get impatient under him. You start to grind against him, and his hands are instantly at your hips to stop you. “Ah— hold on sweetheart, I’m afraid I’m gonna bust too quick if you do that.”

You pout your lip at him, continuing to roll against him. The sureness he had when he had his mouth on you dissipated as he reveled in your movements. He dropped his head, forehead resting on your shoulder, his little noises right in your ear went straight to your core, “Shit, that’s right—oh use my big cock to fuck yourself. Fuck you feel so g-g-good.”

It didn’t take long of your movements to get him to finally snap, pulling back and trusting into you with a loud smack. You arched your back at the intensity of his movements, arms wrapping around  him as he sets a relentless pace. Each thrust into your cunt was punctuated by your quick moans as the air was being knocked out of you over and over.

His grip on your hips loosened, weight shifting as his hands snake under your arms, gripping your shoulders to amplify each thrust. When his eyes meet yours they’re wild, feral as he’s lost himself in his own pleasure. It was like nothing you’ve ever experienced before, another person’s carnal need for you. 

Your second orgasm hit you like a freight train. It was back arching, toe curling, open mouth but nothing comes out pleasure that you’ve only read about in the dirty novels you’d read alone in the bathtub. You’re pretty sure your eyes crossed at one point. His eyes are locked on your face, watching it contort in pleasure as he feels you fluttering around him. He wants to hold out, but it’s too much, and his movements become erratic. Soon after he stills his movements, hips flush with your core and moans into your ear. You can feel the way he twitches inside of you, even with the condom.

Body going slack on top of you, his weight was comforting as your chests rose and fell in rhythm. His grip on your shoulders shifts to around your rib cage and pulls you into him in an embrace so he drag you up the bed with him. The two of you lay there silently, and you stare into his big brown eyes as they shine in the moonlight. Your heart swells with fondness as he looks at you like you’ve hung the moon. His stare is so intense you have to tuck your head in his chest. He wraps an arm around you, tucking his chin on the top of your head.

You didn’t want the moment to end. In less than 24 hours, this man with his arms around you has made you feel more wanted than you ever had in the entirety of your marriage. Deep down, you knew there was a possibility that this was all that it was going to be. And over the last few months, you told yourself that you would be okay if this was all he wanted. But now that you’re finally here, in the moment, you’re starting to realize that this man could ruin your life.

Gently pushing away from him, Eddie gives you a confused look as you climb out of the bed, picking up his clothes. 

“Uh, what are you doing?” He sits up from the bed cautiously.

“Oh,” his question caught you off guard, “well, I, uh, when Henry and I would, you know, he would have me wash his clothes after…”

Eddie reels back, looking at you with shock, “What the hell? I thought you were his wife, not his maid.”

You tilt your head, “What do you mean? All wives do this for their husbands? Not that you’re my husband, I just--it’s just out of habit.”

He’s got himself on the edge of the bed, leaning forward he reaches out for you, tattooed hand waiting for you to take it. You look between it and his face, before placing his clothes in a neat pile on the nightstand. When you take his hand in yours, he pulls you into him, taking your breath away with a kiss, pulling you down into the bed with him once again.

“See, I thought you were getting my clothes to kick me out,” he whispers as you nestle into his side. You shook your head, smiling against his tattooed chest.

“No, definitely not. You’re going to be lucky if I let you leave now,” you giggle as you trace the lines that cover his body. His chest jumps, and when you look up at him he’s smiling from ear to ear.

August 12th, 1995

Roses covered every shop, cart, and building at the fairgrounds today. The sun was beating down on you hard. It was practically boiling out, making you wish you could peel off the little clothing you decided to wear. The numerous bodies moving around you wasn’t helping, along with the endless food trucks putting out heat as the air filled with the smell of steak fries, hot dogs, and the food you were looking forward to the most: funnel cake.

Standing off to the side in the shade holding Eddie’s sketch book, you kept your eyes on the line, watching your boyfriend stick out like a sore thumb in the crowd of Hawkins citizens. Even though you told him you could wait in line yourself, he told you to find a nice spot for the two of you to enjoy your food out of the sun.

When you found a little spot in the grass under a tree, you waved to him to show where you were. He gave you a thumbs up, so you took that as the okay to take your seat. Just before you do, you hear some yelling coming from a few feet away.

“Mrs.Creel! Mrs.Creel!”

A group of your students from this last years class ran up to you, and you were suddenly very aware of how little clothing you were wearing.

“Oh, hi kids,” you greeted, adjusting yourself to hide a little skin. The kids didn’t seem to care much as they talked to you about their summers and how excited they were to be moving up to the eighth grade.

“Why can’t you be our teacher again next year?” Cindy asks.

“Yeah, I have Mr.Rupert this year and he’s so old and boring,” Suzy groans.

You laughed at their words, but felt a tug at your heart from their kindness. You hadn’t even noticed that Eddie was approaching until all four sets eyes widened, looking just behind you. When you turn around, you quickly take some of the load off of Eddie as he juggles your food and drinks.

“Woah,” you hear Collin say. You have to stifle your giggle as you realize that these kids probably didn’t expect boring Mrs.Creel to be with a guy like the one kissing her on the temple.

“Eddie,” you say, turning back to the group, “these are some of the kids from my class last year. Kids, this is my boyfriend, Eddie.”

Their jaws drop as their suspicions are confirmed. Eddie gives them a friendly hello, and you notice the two girls looking at each other. 

“Wait,” Paul interrupts, “Your boyfriend? I thought it was “Mrs” Creel?”

Oh lord. You were hoping that you wouldn’t have to explain much since you’d have a new class this year, but you forget how observant middle schoolers can be.

“You’re correct, Paul. I am married, but,” you look up to Eddie, who gives you a nod, “But, I won’t be much longer. Hopefully that is.”

“Oh, okay,” Paul shrugs.

“What are we supposed to call you then?” Suzy chimes.

“I’m going to be going back to my maiden name, but you can call me Mrs.Creel if you want to. I know it can be confusing-”

“It’s okay,” Cindy insists, “we’ll just tell everyone that they can suck it up and call you by the name you want to be called.”

After the kids leave and you and Eddie stuff your faces, Eddie tugs you close, kissing the top of your head, his lips moving against your scalp as he talks.

“I don’t know if you remember, but I told you before that your students didn’t think you were lame.”

You sucked in a breath and laughed, “Yeah, I guess you were right. I’ve always been hard on myself when it comes to my students, though.”

“You’re hard on yourself with everything, Sweetheart.” He takes your hand in his before you can pull away, already getting used to your antics when he teases you.

As the sun finally starts to set, the two of you start to make your way back to your car. Eddie has proven himself to be quite the gentleman in the last few weeks. He opens your car door for you once you’ve gotten Teddie Munson, the giant teddy bear that Eddie one for you throwing darts at balloons, safely placed in your back seat. Once inside, he jogs to the passenger door and jumps in. The drive home was full of laughter and conversation, only winding down as you approached Steve’s place.

This had become your least favorite part of the night. Eddie had forgotten that his newly assigned probation officer was going to come and visit him the day after he was released. So when he was at your apartment instead of the address listed on his paperwork, he almost got thrown back in jail on violation. Thankfully, between you and Steve talking with him, he let Eddie off with but with one stipulation. 

So Eddie had to stay at Steve’s house for the next six months as punishment. It wasn’t the worst thing, as you were welcomed by Steve to stay whenever you liked. But, with how vocal the two of you liked to be in bed, you could really only get away with it when Steve and Robin were both gone. And it was only going to be more difficult once the school year started.

“Hey, maybe if I’m really good, proving that I’m lookin’ for work and all that, maybe he’ll let me off my punishment early,” he shrugs as you walk into Steve’s, night bag in tow.

“Maybe,” you lament, “I wouldn’t do anything to risk it, though. You may piss him off if you even ask.”

“Ugh,” Eddie groans as you follow him up the stairs, “If I ever see Rick on the street he’s fucking dead.”

You just shake your head. He always says something to that effect whenever his probation prevents him from spending more time with you.

“I wish you could move in here. It would make things so much easier.”

That was the other thing he said.

“Sorry, babe,” you shrugged, grabbing your night clothes. You stood by the bedroom door as he rummaged around for something to wear, “I can’t afford to break my lease. Besides, you might get bored of me and kick me to the curb. It’s probably for the best that we don’t rush into anything.”

You don’t even see him coming when he grabs your arms, lightly pushing you into the wall, lips pressing firmly into yours. You hum against his lips, and when he pulls away, he looks at you with those eyes. Big, brown eyes that you wish you could stare into forever. 

“I’ll agree to the no rushing, but you told me yourself that I was gonna be hard pressed to get you to let me go. I’m keeping the same deal on my end. Only way I’m letting you leave is if I royally fuck up or I’m on my death bed. Got it, Sweetheart?”

Nodding, you pull him into you again, hoping that your lips could tell him how you feel without having to speak the words. That you were scared, nervous to give yourself to someone so wholly again. The pain of losing him would probably do you in. But with how everything felt so natural with Eddie, so not forced, that you wanted to at least try.

thanks for reading!

[mattsfavbigtitties]

Blind, Deaf and Mute Challenge/ Sturniolo Triplets

Warning: Cussing, purely platonic, playful flirting, Implied chrisxreader, finger sucking.

MASTERLIST TAGLIST

A/n: ngl this took SOOO long🥲 playlist y/n has

Summery: You join the triplets in a blind, deaf and mute baking video.

★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★

“Gitchie, gitchie, ya-ya, da-da. Gitchie, gitchie, ya-ya, here.” The video starts with you in front of the camera doing the sprinkler dance.

“Get out the way bitch!” Nick comes into focus and pushes you around the frame. “So, it’s been a good enough gap between the last blind, mute, and deaf challenge. We decided to do it again!” Nick says as he does jazz hands while walking behind the table.

You and the boys go ahead and play rock, paper, scissors to debate which person gets what. Matt and Chris went and Matt won, so he picked mute.

Then Chris and Nick went and Nick won, so he picked deaf which made the youngest mad. Chris had to pick blind, leaving you to choose. You had a fear of the dark and you speak a lot of nonsense, in conclusion you picked to be deaf. And it’s not as bad as the other two because you get to listen to your favorite songs.

Afterwards, everyone put on their respective gear which were the headphones and bandanas. A problem you had to figure out because you left yours in Nick’s room, so you went to run up real quick.

When you get to the ground floor you’re focused on connecting your headphones to your phone. Right before you place them on your head you hear a grunt and something stumble to the floor.

“Matt fucking gut punched me.” Nick stands up slowly and bends over holding onto his stomach with a grimace on his face. You start laughing to yourself as you put your headphones on fully and go to stand behind the table along with the other three crazy kids.

“Y’all, I can’t hear shit.” You slammed your hands on the wood table in front of you as your southern side came out. “Y’all.” Chris mocked a foreign country voice, laughing at you. “I saw your mouth move, bitch! I know you being rude, you fucking hoe!” You shouted out at Chris who only laughed harder in response and flopped himself on the table.

As Matt and Nick get the cupcake pans, measurements and the bowl for the batter, you get the eggs out of the fridge. All while Chris stands there looking like a total doofus, in your eyes.

“What are we doing, Nick? Aye!” Chris hollers, looking for an answer back, shaking his head around to hear anything as you dance around with the eggs in your hands shaking them like maracas. Matt shoves Nick who was in La La Land dancing around.

“AH! Don’t touch me bitch, ew, gross.” Nick backed up into the fridge raising his hands in surrender. Matt slaps him multiple times to get his point across while exaggeratingly pointing his hand towards Chris.

You move around them, putting the eggs in the metal bowl Nick set down while bobbing your head to a beat in your ears.  “Nobody wants to see us together, but it don’t matter, no. ‘Cause we gon’ fight, oh yes, we gon’ fight.” You sing softly, placing one hand on both Matt and Nick’s shoulder looking between both of them.

Matt shakes his head walking away to help Chris. “OHH! Chris, are you ready?!” Nick shouts, finally getting what the hand movements meant.

“Yeah! Hello?!” Chris replied, waving his hands around in show. “We’re making cupcakes, Chris!” Nick shouts again, chucking the whisk that was held in his hand just a few seconds prior beside the bowl.

“Damn, took you long enough.” Chris sighed in exaggeration as he felt around for the box of cake mix. Once in his hands, he rips open the box in many pieces and throws it away behind him.

Which landed absolutely everywhere making Matt groan and you laugh who saw the whole thing while Nick was faced the sink dancing again, in his own world. NIck walks back to the table, still dancing and singing of course, just as Chris once again rips open the clear bag of cake mix, feeling around for the bowl and dumping the powder into it.

Next thing you know, you see Chris throw the empty bag to his right, hitting Nick right in the face with leaving him to splutter about, waving his hands around in dramatic effect. “PFFT” Nick blows raspberries, face morphed into disgust with wild eyes as he shoves Chris’ shoulder.

“GOD! I’m right here, you idiot! Can’t you se-oh my God I forgot.” He pops his lips and looks around with his eyes avoiding Matt’s accusing stare. You ignore them, looking into the distance behind the camera while nodding your head to the beat that plays inside your headphones.

Nick takes the bag that landed on the ground and throws it in the trash can. Matt groans, realizing he had to put the box pieces back together to read the instructions.

He sees you in his sight first and hits you on your shoulder multiple times to get your attention. “HUH?” Your eyes widen a bit, trying to get your ears to listen, but it’s useless as Matt can’t even speak.

He gestures to the piece of cardboard in his hand and then points to you, then points again to the floor signaling he wants you to look for the others.

“WhAT?!” You shout, extending your arms in an ‘I don’t know’ pose. Matt sighs heavily and proceeds to exaggerate his previous movements with more umph. You gasp loudly as you finally understand what he’s trying to say.

“OHH, OKAY. I’LL FIND EM!” You point your pointer finger at the ceiling with a confident look on your face. He quickly made a shushing motion with his finger at you.

“Ohhh, whoopsies.” You whisper back leaning in and place the same finger from the air to your lips in an agreement and go crawling on the floor looking for any other cardboard scraps. Matt looked around with furrowed brows and shook his head, weirded out with you crawling on the floor, paying attention to the other two who were currently running around the table.

While Matt takes care of them, you crawl around on all fours looking for the reminisce of the box, also while avoiding the crazy men running around up top. Soon enough you found enough to make out the instructions and everything needed.

You stand up quickly from behind the camera, where one piece had surprisingly been, scaring Nick in the process.

”A-OH, my God!” Nick started laughing at himself. Resulting in Matt stifling a laugh and you bursting out loud laughing, walking over to the middle child and handing him all the cardboard pieces from the ground.

“OKAY, what is fucking happening!?” Chris shouted, asking what all the commotion and laughing was from as he stood behind the table with his hands fiddling with the bottom of his tank top.

“Woah! I could hear that. Good thing my song was changing, damn.” Nick shook his head and moved the whisk away from the bowl.

“We’re going to start now, okay!?” Nick shouted as the music started playing again. “Sheesh, finally.” Chris raised his hands in exasperation and started reaching for the bowl and eggs.

Nick went in to go for a high five with Matt after he moved the whisk. “Matt, you can see that I'm going for a high five, no?” Nick smacked his lips together wiggling his hand that’s currently in the air while Matt just stares at it.

All while you’re listening to Low, so while you sing, “Them baggy sweatpants and the reebok with the straps. She turned around and gave that big booty a slap.”

You slap Nick's booty that was to your right. “She hit the floor. Next thing you know, shawty got low, low-” You start squatting and slapping his ass repetitively.

“AAH, Y/n stop that, what the fuck are you doing, girl?” Nick turned around smacking your hands away quickly, like lightning, giving you a death glare.

You nervously smiled in response, getting up and walking behind Chris, using him as a barrier. Nick points suspiciously at you and gets back to helping Chris get the oil.

After repeating ‘Yas queen’ every time Chris poured the oil professionally in the measuring cup, Chris chuckled into laughter every time, Chris dumped the oil into the bowl. Now onto the next step, the eggs, the difficult job.

“The eggs next!!” You yelled into Chris’ ear as you repelled out from behind Matt with strong retribution. While you help Chris put the eggs into the cup, he keeps flailing his arms.

“I only call you when it’s half-past fiv-OW BITCH!” You sing as you sidestep to try and get away from him, you get smacked right in the boob.

You start hitting him back and he smacks you back, so you guys are just standing there having a girl slapping fight.

“What the fuck is happening oh my gosh. STOP, You fucking minions!” Nick got in the middle of it, spacing his hands towards each of your chests trying to stop both of your hands. Chris turned around to the table in front of him again muttering about how it was all your fault and that you started it.

As Chris finished getting all the eggs in the bowl along with the oil and powder, Matt put all the egg shells into the measuring cup, going to throw it in the garbage. Nick saying something stupid of course and dancing around in his way equaling to Matt jiggling the cup up and the shells aimed at Nick’s chest, making him scream in disgust.

“Are you fucking kidding me, your disgusting!” Nick picks a shell off the floor and throws it back at Matt. Matt’s response to that is to run after Nick, resulting in a chase around the table.

While Matt is chasing around Nick, Chris is lost as fuck at what he’s hearing and you’re just singing and putting all your emotions in the song. “Just gonna stand there and watch me burn?! Well, that’s alright because I like the way it hurts.”

“What the fuck is going on?” Chris is just so confused standing next to the fridge rearranging his blindfold.

Nick walks past ready to stop the chase and Matt throwing more egg shells at him. “Matt fucking chased me and now i’m covered in fucking baby chicken.” The aggravation in Nick’s voice has Chris as he asks “What?” in surprise.

Chris pushes the nearest person to his right, that being Nick and he stumbles over into your stature behind him just a singin’ away, leading to you falling for real and getting up quickly singing the Trolls song.

“If you knock, knock me over. I will get back up again, oh.”

Nick shouting sorry at you as you walk away to clean up the thrown egg shells everywhere while Matt tends to helping Chris get the water from inside the fridge. Nick comes over to them watching carefully how much water is being poured in the measuring cup.

You come back from the trash can to Nick yelling at Chris to hold the cup straight. “Hold it flat. Flat!. FLAT!” Nick’s face is practically in the cup as he looks at the numbers written on it.

Matt helps move the bowl under where Chris’ hand was with the cup. “Pour it, baby girl!” Trying to be quiet with your words, you felt Matt's slaps as Nick was singing Melanie Martinez again by the sink.

“M’kay.” After he poured the water in, you saw him patting his hands around for the whisk. You thought of a brilliant idea to play a trick on him and the best view for the fans to see.

You reach for the whisk that's near the camera on the table and put it where if you had one your dick would be.You grabbed his hand and brought it to the utensil so it looks like he’s touching your dick.

While Chris was mixing the batter with Matt helping occasionally, Nick decided to have a dance break. You saw it from the corner of your eye and wanted to join him.

Next thing you know you were shaking it real bad while “Country girl” was playing in your headphones. As your dance break was coming to an end as the other two boys finished mixing, the song came to your favorite part, the chorus.

“Country girl, shake it for me, girl, shake it for me, girl, shake it for me.” You sang the part while shaking your ass. “Get it queen, slay!!” Nick shouted even if you couldn’t hear, hyping you up by flinging his finger around in the air towards you.

As Chris just finished mixing he got the batter all over his hands. “Nick, I need a towel please.” he reached his hands out to feel for the other man and in the process came in contact with nicks shirt, so he just wiped his hands off with that.

Nick screamed and swiped at his brother's hands away. “Get away! What the fuck, Chris?!” He holds his hands out in front of him in a way to protect himself from the ugly monster hands.

“Like he’s coming at me with gross hands. Like get a towel or something.” Nick then realizes what he said and slaps his hand on his mouth in shock, cackling at himself.

“Oh my God, am I stupid. I’ll get you a towel buddy don’t worry.” He patted Chris’ head as said man replies with mumbles.

He went around the two boys and you who were just standing, leaning against the stove singing along to a random song. Nick comes back to Chris with a napkin in hand, still giggling and smiling as Chris just grins at his idiotic brother.

As soon as Chris wipes his hands off Nick goes back to practically yelling the Melenie lyrics flowing through his headphones. “Not it off, fucker!” Chris yells at him. And of course Nick can’t hear so Matt smacked Nick a couple times, Chris doing the same, reaching for him around in his little bubble.

“Like a priest behind the-” Nick runs around to the opposite end of the table, Chris chasing after, being careful of falling.

While the two boys are running in circles, you move beside Matt as one of your favorite songs is playing through your ears. Causing you to grab onto Matt’s shoulders, shaking them back and forth as you put your face right up to his, your nose almost touching his cheek as his head faced the rascals.

“But I ain’t promiscuous and if you were suspicious, all that shit is fictitious, I blow kisses. Muahh!” Then you kiss Matt’s cheek while Matt side eyes you and the camera the whole time, him used to your random shenanigans.

Next would be to pour the batter in the pans and cook the cupcakes finally. You go through their cabinets real fast finding the pam spray for the cupcakes to not stick to the pan.

“Got the pam, my kings. Time for a lubing experience!” You held up the pam to the ceiling, shaking it around for the boys to see, except Chris of course. You came over beside Chris, turning him to face the camera and table while still holding the bottle, Chris fiddling with his hands.

“I’m gonna guide your hands, baby girl. You’re going to spray the pam on the pan, okay?!” You slightly yell in Chris’ ear as for him to hear you properly.

He raised his eyebrows in surprise and laughed quietly, jerking his head back a bit to escape your sudden ambush. You glance at Matt for permission to start, he scratches his forehead in response, sighing quietly into his bandana.

You smile brightly with all your teeth as you take Chris’ hands and shove the spray bottle in them, making sure to face the nozzle to the pans. Matt walks over to take one of the muffin pans in his hands to hold out for Chris to spray them with your help.

You feel a bump to your back and your hips hit the table making you yelp, turning around to scold Nick who was laughing while saying sorry over and over while waving his hands around repeatedly.

“When should I spray, Matt-I mean Y/n, fuck.” You rolled your eyes paying attention to the other boys.

“Spray now, pretty boy.” You finally got your voice to a nice volume, Matt raised a brow at the name as Chris pressed down on the nozzle

“Oh! My God-” You yelped again, this time from the shooting pam getting all over the table and on Matt's hand holding the pan. After Matt moved around the pan for the butter to get into every hole the best he could with you helping the blind man move his hands around, he motioned for you to grab the pan on your side.

“Stop real quick! Oh my goshyyy.” You drag out your words as you move to grab the muffin pan and shove it in the air in front of the nozzle at a decent space away.

“Alright spray away.” Just as he pressed the sprayer down the butter came in contact with your hand holding the pan, you just stared with a blank face making the :[ lips in disappointment. “You got your jizz on me, fucking whore. What the fuck.” You shot a stare at Matt as you moved Chris’ hand to the empty spots in the pan, you watched Matt wipe his hands on Nick’s back as he danced past him in his own world.

You moved your eyes and paid more attention to Chris again as you saw there was enough on the pan. “Stop! No more, man.” You sat the pan on the table moving them directly in Chris’ sight-if he didn’t have the blindfold on.

You watch Chris try his best(fail) to put the bottle correctly on the table upright, all it ended up doing was falling and rolling to the very end of the table near the camera.

“You’re doing great, Chris. “ You sigh, holding out your buttered hand in front of you, freezing in place not knowing where to go as Nick was dancing right behind you and Chris and Matt were to the left of you.

“You don’t sound very proud though, Y/n.” Chris chuckled, setting both his hands on the table leaning up against it waiting for directions. You hummed, hearing him as the song was changing at that time. Don’t worry, baby, you really did great for a blind guy. “ You pat his head with your non buttered hand as you came to the conclusion, very fast, to turn around and wipe your hands on Nick also, resulting in him seeing this time what was on your hands and screaming dramatically like always.

“AHH, what the fuck, you bitch! You got some kind of fucking cum all over your fingers! Get away from me, oh my God!!” Nick retreated backwards with a traumatized look on his face shoving your hands away from his shirt.

“Boys call you sexy and you don’t care what they say…hehe” you sing softly and giggle menacingly, wiggling your brows in faux suggestion. Nick screwed his lips up and backed away towards the other side of Chris where Matt looked with wide eyes between you two.

You face the camera giving a show(dance) as you put your right hand on your chest “When I grow up-”, then point to the ceiling while your other hand rests on your hip. “-I wanna be famous. I wanna be a star. I wanna be in movies.” You bring both hands under your chin with your palms facing up while you bob your head back and forth. 

“When I grow up-” You once again put your right hand on your chest then point to the ceiling while your other rests on your hip. “-I wanna see the world. Drive nice cars. I wanna have groupies.” This time you bring your hands to your mouth and blow kisses left and right while bobbing your head.

After your stunning performance, you join Chris’ right side again while Matt is holding Nick back while he rants about where the trays are. You went ahead to help Chris get the batter in the trays. You put your hands on top of his as you start to pour the batter with him into the first pan.

“Oh, when you walk by every night, talking sweet and looking fine.“ You start singing ‘Fantasy’ while you guide him for the batter into the correct holes as he sings with you a little bit.

“I get kinda hectic inside. Mm, baby I’m so into you. Darling, if you only knewww.” Chris joins in with a fond smile on his lips as you guide the bowl up to stop the flow of the batter and move to hold the second pan underneath the bowl, letting Chris resume pouring the thick liquid.

“YAS, YAS QUEEN.” Nick hypes you up while you hold the tray up and help get batter in the muffin holes. Matt, to the left of Chris once more, helps with the silicone spatula, moving the batter stuck to the sides to the direction the bottom of the bowl is faced.

 After Matt practically cleaned the bowl with the scraper tool, you set the pan beside the first one on the table and took the bowl from Chris to put in the sink as Nick told him to take off his blindfold finally.

You turned around from putting water in the bowl to the top and saw the three boys without their bandanas or headphones on and pouted walking over while taking your headphones off.

“You bitch! You didn't tell me we’re done, you fucking loser ass whore.” You slapped Nick on the shoulder closest to you and Nick’s pained yell cut off right as the screen cut to when the cupcakes were done.

Chris comes towards the stove with the camera right as Nick turns around. “Oh my God, I thought you were gonna attack me.” Nick gasps, eyes wide, holding his chest with one hand while the other holds an oven mitt from when he just took the pans from inside it. Matt was to the left of Nick as were you to Matt, Chris behind the camera obviously.

“You whore, you almost gave Nick a heart attack. “ You move to slap Chris playfully, but he moves backwards in time already anticipating your move. You gasp dramatically in offense bringing both hands tight to your chest in faux anguish.

“Don’t mind him Y/n, he’s just being a booty licker.” Nick pats your shoulder as Matt and Chris go into shock, their mouths agape in revelation to what Nick had said.

“Anyway! Back to the cupcakes.” You redirect their attention to the pans with tiny yellow cakes in them by presenting your hand towards the oven top where they lay.

“Like th-the c-cupcake itself looks very warm and fluffy..” Chris points the camera up close to the cupcakes, already letting go of the forgotten words said previously. “Like the c-c-c-cupcake itself.” Matt taunts, mocking Chris.

“Shut the fuck up.” Chris giggles. Nick suddenly gasps and holds up a fully burnt piece of batter with his tooth pick, showing it to the three of you and the camera. “I will actually venmo you a hundred dollars if you eat this.”

“For real, bitch? You're not kidding?” You ask shockingly. ”A hundred twenty dollars to eat this.”He says looking you straight in the eyes.

“I’d need cash, five hundred.” Chris chimes in from behind the camera.

“Hey man, free money.” You shrug your shoulders, pushing Chris out your way to the stove top, grabbing Nick’s wrist and making him put the black, burnt piece of practically char into your mouth.

“Jesus, lady. A little too sexy for me.” Nick speaks as Matt and Chris look horrified as they watch you eat it with a soured face while shaking your head back and forth like a wiggle worm. All three of them start laughing loud as you shoving them away and quickly speed walk to the fridge where there was your body armor you brought over.

You chug down most of the drink, all while Chris films up close to your face. You slam the bottle on the table breathing heavily from not taking a breath drinking. “So how was it Y/n? Was it the yummiest thing you ever ate?” Matt laughs smugly, rubbing your back with one hand.

“Send it, Nick.” You sigh, shaking your hands ferociously with the shiver that went down your spine. “Alright, we’ll be back for the frosting of the cupcakes.” Matt pushed the camera away.

“For the CUPCAKES, YAY!” Nick squeaks out as he does jazz hands above your head from behind you. “YAAHOO” You squeal back in a yoshi voice, back to your old self in a matter of moments, shoving your forehead to the camera lens.

“Nah, no transitions babe-” Just then the camera cuts off Chris’ voice to you and the boys standing behind the table, each with a cupcake plated in front of you.

“We’re all gonna decorate one cupcake fully blindfolded. Lemme get all the supplies.” Nick says, walking around you to grab the sprinkles and icings by the sink counter.

Soon enough everyone had a blindfold on, Chris having to help you to not get your hair caught in it. First thing you roamed your hands around for was the small tub of white icing.

Thankfully finding and using it before anyone else got to it. You took the butter knife from the table, scooping what you thought was only a little, but ended up being a whole lot of icing on your cupcake where you made sure it was right under it.

After practically using the whole tub, you reached for some sprinkles, lifting a hand to peak out your blindfold for the pink one and seeing all the icing on your cake.

You suck your lips in and widen your eyes, pulling the bandana back over your eyes, continuing to open the sprinkle top. You proceeded to just twist the whole top off, pouring most of them in once again.

“Where the fuck is the fucking icing?! I’ve been searching for hours!” You hear Chris from your left groan in despair. You giggle quietly, hearing him slap his hands against the table fumbling around to find the icing. “Hey! Mister, that's mine.” You call out as Chris hits against your plate, making a scratching sound from all your sprinkles.

“Womp womp.” He mocks at you as he accidentally touches the very bottom of your stomach while reaching around.

"Chris stop! You’re literally touching my puss, you fucking dumbass!” You screech out, moving backward, flailing your hands out to push him away from him barely touching your pubic bone.

“WOOAAH, WOAHH!!” Nick shouts in horror and shock with his mouth agape.

“Not in the kitchen, guys.” You can practically see Matt’s smirk from your far left in front of you.

“Well I COULDN’T FUCKING FInd it!” Chris yells, flapping his hands against his thighs in aggression, his voice lowering in pitch due to your laugh shushing. “I had it alright damn. Chill out pretty boy.” You move up to the table again, finding the icing more by Nick than you, but who cares and handing it to the pouting man.

After the explosion everything went pretty fast as you four quit talking, focusing on making your cupcakes beautiful. “Dude I got frosting on my face, ugh.” Chris groaned, taking off his blindfold.

“That’s fine baby, I’ll lick it off ya.” You smirked, already having your blindfold off. “WOAH, AGAIN?!” Nick shouts, taking his off also, seeing Matt with his off too.

“Aww, I wanted blue. Oh! It matches my shirt!” He wiggles. “Wait! I thought I used this? Ohh I forgot to cut the tip off” Nick groans while Chris sucks the icing off his hands and Matt picks at his, wiping it on his pants.

“Oh my God, I tried to use that to make a smiley face. WAAH” You fake cry, heading to the sink to wash your hands and drag Chris along too. In the background of the video, fans could see you and Chris whispering while washing hands behind where Matt and Nick were inspecting their(and yours) cupcake designs. In the corner Chris speaks quietly to you.

“So, you really wanna lick it off?” With raised brows he whispers. You decide not to answer with words, but in action.

You took the non wet hand of his and made sure Chris’ back was hiding it from the camera, taking his pinky that was covered in white frosting slowly into your mouth. The whole time your eyes were locked on his own.

You sucked hard, rubbing the finger with your tongue, trying to get all the icing off in one go. You slowly removed the pinky, so as to not make too much noise.

Once it was fully out, you saw a little white still on the left side and moved your tongue out to lick at it. When finished, you pull his hand under the running water faucet, squirting soap on him as you hear him let out a deep breath.

In the end yours kinda looked like Chris’, all pink sprinkles and so so so much icing. You take a bite of yours and some crumbs get on your shirt.

“Um, you got a lil' somethin' somethin' on your tittie, Y/n” Nick pointed out to you and everyone there. “I know, I was saving it for later, you whore.” You bit back at him and he held his hands up in surrender with wide eyes. Matt walked up to the camera showing his cupcake upclose.

“Mine. The blue cyclone.” He showed his cupcake covered in blue sprinkles and you joined in front of the camera with yours too, shoving it up closer than Matt's.

“Yas bitch! And my pink pussaayy.” The cupcake covered in pink sprinkles is shown with a bite taken out and a made line, from you obviously, in the middle which looked like it was lips.

“Don’t sa-”

And the video ends there.

________

-COMMENTS-

@ chris and y/n in the back omg so cute

@ y/n has THE literal epitome of a shuffled playlist it’s fr wild

@ y/n and matts moment!!!!

@ the old songs….I LUV

@ rockin the sexc songs girl fsfs

@ jealous of y/nnnn ;(

@ y/n is too wild fr

★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★

TAGLIST: @riowritesitall @conspiracy-ash @miyasturniolo

[dreamauri]

♪ — 𝗟𝗢𝗢𝗞 𝗔𝗧 𝗛𝗘𝗥 max verstappen x reader (fluff) “. . . while on a drive, lando's car breaks down and you're the best mechanic in town.”

( my master list | more of lando norris ) ( requests | taglist )

"Now my phone's dead too." Lando scoffed throwing his phone on the leather seat. He's been standing at the side of the blue carbon covered £380,00+ car for the past 20 minutes. He was in the middle of utterly no where, with no cars passing by ( the people that did stop, happen to not speak English nor Flemish Dutch for that matter yes lando tried speaking dutch to italians ).

What a lucky day.

And it was about to get a lot luckier when another car passing by stopped after Norris waved over. "I need help, with the car." He tried saying slowly, switching to Dutch to try his chances.

"I can . . . I can help push it? to uh . . . car doctor?" "Yes, car doctor, that would be great. Thank you." And so after about 2 hours of hard work, the two men ( well one man, one boy lando small ) arrived at a town where several other men came and helped Lando to the mechanics shop.

"Ask kiku. Uhhh . . . Kiku help with car. Very good."

Lando made sure to thank everyone before they left, going through the door. "Un momento per favore." [one moment please]. A female voice shouted through the garage, she was laying on a skateboard rolled under a car.

"Matteo!" she shouted again startling Lando. "Matteo. Porta qui il tuo culo e aiuta quel dannato uomo." [Matteo. Get your ass over here and help the god damn man]. 'Matteo' seemed to have either passed out and taken a nap or walked out. "marcire All 'inferno . . . Cosa c'è che non va nella tua auto?" [rot in hell . . . what's wrong with your car] You asked giving up on finding your co worker.

"I'm sorry?" Lando asked again feeling nervous in this situation, making you pause your tweaking. You rolled from under the car, looking at the British driver. "There shouldn't be anything wrong with your car." You spoke in English, fluently, rolling back under and continuing with the wrench.

"You didn't even take a look at my car-" He was stuttering. Lando was surprised and shocked. It's not everyday you run into a hot Italian women, that can fix cars and speaks English like she's from Chicago or Milton.

"What did you do to it. Were you racing with it? Drifting? Rallying? Or did you completely destroyed it, cause I don't have any carbon fiber or fancy doors and steering wheels."

"No." He replied to all of your questions. "Then it's fine. There's a gas station two roads south from here-" "You don't even know what the model of the car is." He argued, not believing you.

"You're Lando Norris, aren't you? its a 765LT Spider, McLaren." You answered with no hesitation, making the boy zip his mouth. "What do you want, Mr. Norris?" You asked again getting annoyed.

"I was told to look for, uh, Kiku was it?" He said unsurely. You sighed, grumbling a few Italian cuss words under your breath as you finished your current task. Rolling out, you stood up, lifting your tank top and wiping your face dry from the sweat, which in turn smudged some grease on your face.

Fuck not being attracted to Italian female mechanics, you were hot. Very attractive in Lando's eyes.

"I'm Kiku." You told him, handing him the greasy wrench. It was a stupid nickname a few friends gave you as a joke, and it stuck. You looked out at his car hand on your hip as you examined it. "Can you turn it on?" You asked as you approached it, ready to open the back trunk and check the engine.

Lando looked grossed out at the wrench, setting it on a random surface as he unlocked the truck. You examined the car for the next 15 minutes. "I can give it back tomorrow. It's not a big problem. Like I said, you're just out of gas."

"But the measure doesn't say that. And If it's just out of gas, shouldn't you be able to give it back today?" "Yeah. That's the problem, your fuel sender is lying to you and I have to change it." You patted his back, moving back into your garage.

"But I can't stay here forever." "What's wrong with this place?" You asked frowning, looking him in the eye. Lando was going to open his mouth before he closed it quickly. "Nothing I just don't-" why was he rushing? He didn't have places to be at the moment. ". . . I don't have a place to stay?" He answered, more like asked from how unsure of himself he was.

You looked at him for a few seconds. "You can wait over there, just don't touch anything." You told him sighing, nodding towards a few chairs near your office.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"I'm not getting in." Lando refused, looking at your green car. Well it wasn't any green car. It was a classic, a Ferrari 250 gte. Highlight Ferrari. "Yeah, I'm definitely not getting it."

"Suit yourself, the coyotes here would not pass on eating you alive." You joked, not even sure if there were coyotes. "It's not everyday you get to eat a formula one driver, especially a British McLaren driver named Norris." Yea that statement did it for Lando, quickly getting in the car and closing the door after him.

"Good boy." You humed, not really thinking about it as you pulled out the driveway and made your way home. Lando could feel his face redden, hearing your praise, crossing his arms and huffing.

When you arrived at your house, the McLaren diver was quick to jump out first. "Think fast." Lando turned around, quickly catching the keys you tossed. He dropped them once he saw the yellow and black logo with a yelp.

You were laughing at him, moving to his side and picking up the keys, moving towards the house. "casa mia è casa tua." you told him as soon as you unlocked the door. Landor entered after you, copying you as you took your shoes off. The first thing the British driver felt was warmth, your space was giving him solace. This place felt like home.

"You can look around, I'm not going to take long in the shower." You set your bag down on the floor near the couch, making your way to the bathroom. Land did look around, he felt curious. You clearly knew him but he knew so little about you. While scouting for information he found your collection of music discs.

When finally came out fresh, Lando was quick to ask you about a few pictures he found. You two were quickly becoming close with one another. Sharing stories and jokes.

"What about this one?" Lando pointed to one on the grand piano. "Oh yea, I can totally see the picture, Mr. Norris." You chuckled. You were busy with your hands, making dinner for both of you ( you usually ordered out but it world be rude to do that with a guest around so you were putting your heart out in the spaghetti you wee making from scratch, something you knew would impress the McLaren driver ).

Lando picked up the photo frame walking over to you. "Why do you keep calling me by my last name? I have a first name, or did you forget." He chuckled looking at you. "Cause your first name sounds like London." You teased joking. It was out of respect, you did not want to get on his bad side, and it did sound like London just a bit.

Lando smiled laughing. "Well, I'd rather you call me by my first name." "Of course, Mr. Norris." You teased, leaning your forearms on the counter, flicking some flower on his face. He only held up the photo in return. "Oh, I remember this." You hummed, wiping your hand in a towel, taking the photo.

"It was before the last race for the European karting championship. I think I was . . . eleven in that picture?" Lando moved beside you looking down at it. You were in your kart, with your helmet on holding a thumbs up.

You took a moment looking at the photo, your father was sitting beside you on the floor, delivering the kart it's last few tweaks before the race. "You karted?" Lando asked, ruining the moment.

"No." You sarcastically replied, pushing the picture on his chest. "I flew planes at the age of two." You rolled your eyes. "Did you win?" "Hell yeah, I did. Do I look like some weak ass sissy?" You replied laughing. "That championship was mine. I Literally beat up Albon and Leclerc. "

"Really?" He was interested, leaning forward to listen closely. "What else did you race in?" "Just that really." You shrugged smiling. "Other than the karting track a few blocks down." "There's a karting track a few blocks down?" You looked at him blinking quietly. "I think answered your question before you answered it."

The boy looked away chuckling nervously. "Right." "I can drop you off tomorrow morning while I fix your car." You offered as you gently cooked the chicken alfredo. "Really?" You looked back at him deadpanning. "I mean, I'd enjoy that. Thank you."

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"Hey, I never got to ask, why didn't you continue with racing? You won the championship after all. We could've been competing in f1 together." The sun had already risen again and Lando was unwillingly sitting in your car as you drove through the town. "Not everyone is high born, Norris." You sighed, shrugging. "It's my cannon event. Besides, I'm happy like this."

After finally fixing the lying fuel measure, you drove the McLaren to the karting track, honking the horn to get the attention of the race car driver.

Turning back from the fence, Lando smiled upon seeing you lean on the blue carbon in the car park. "You fixed her!" "Of course I did." You chuckled, tossing him his keys once he was close enough. "You're free to go Mr. Norris." You chuckled getting off the McLaren and patting his back. "I don't need to leave just yet . . . by the way do you have plans next week?" "Why what are you up to."

lando.jpg

lando.jpg lesson learned, always carry a portable car mechanic with you

alex_albon ease my heart and tell me thats not who i think it is ↳ youruser long time no see alex ↳ alex_albon THE POWER OF CHRIST COMPLES YOU ↳ user 💀

charles_leclerc omg ew, kart theif ↳ youruser you're ew, you took my kart first! ↳ charles_leclerc it was a good kart ↳ alex_albon your only win ↳ charles_leclerc THATS MEAN

user who's that ↳ maxverstappen1 a nightmare ↳ youruser hey max ↳ maxverstappen1 BEGONE DEMON

[fleur-a-whump]

Overloaded (#1)

Preventative Measures

so like. this is a thing. been toying with this little guy in my head for a few weeks and like, almost nothing is concrete but I'm hoping I'll turn it into a series.

content: ex-villain whumpee, hero/leader whumper, manipulative whumper, just like a LOT of manipulation, collars/collaring, referenced electrocution, low self esteem, subtle threats, guilt trips

I've never done this before, let me know if I missed something!!

masterlist | next

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Villain has finally been given a chance. A chance to prove he's more than what the whole city has always thought of him, more than what his father raised him to be. He wanted to do good in the world. The heroes were finally giving him a chance to be more than they've always thought of him. 

...or so he thought.

He gulps as he stares at the shock collar in Team Leaders hands. It's a small thing, sleek and unassuming. But he knows exactly what it is because Team Leader had shown him how it worked.  The man is currently speaking to him nonchalantly. Villain should really be listening to the hero that holds the key to a better life. But that collar... shakes Villain's faith in Team Leader. Just a little.

"Villain," the man says shortly. Impatiently. Shit.

Villain jumped to attention, nerves only growing worse. 

"Sorry, sorry! I'm just-just a little confused. I thought... I was a part of the team..." He tries to keep the heartbreak out of his voice. He doesn't quite succeed. 

"If you'd listen..." the Team Leader sighed deeply. Villain was going to throw up. 

Team Leader began again, speaking slowly as if to a child. Or a stupid person. Villain thinks he fell into the latter column. "I was just saying this will help you better mesh with the team. I'm sure you've noticed people are a little nervous with you around."

Hostile. Villain would use the word hostile.

"Given your past, everything you've done," the man drawled. Villain can't hold back a wince. 

"So, to ease their worries, and allow them to see how great I know you can be, this is just a little precautionary measure. A bit of a show."

Ryan swallowed thickly.

"So... It wouldn't be used..."

He tries to keep himself from thinking about electricity burning the sensitive skin of his throat as it shoots down his spine and into his skull to paralyze him. He's familiar enough with the feeling; he doesn't need to imagine it.

Team Leader gives him an easy smile. "As long as there are no issues, of course not."

"...Issues?"

"Oh, stuff that'll never happen. Just breaking any of the rules."

Villain arched his brow, slightly dubious. "Rules.”

"Yeah, like, follow orders, don't fraternize with any of your old contacts, don't leave our level, don't work unsupervised, don't harm the team. Stuff you've been doing this whole time."

"Wait, don't leave the level?

"I mean, that's pretty obvious, bud. If we can't see you, we can't know that you're following the rest of the rules."

He nods mutely, gaze wandering. this whole thing just. He didn't know. It hurt.

Team Leader gently tilted his head up. "Villain, I'm only doing this because I trust you. I know you'd never do anything that could jeopardize your place here."

He doesn't trust that Villain is a hero though, obviously. That he's good. Because Villain could never be good. Not now. Not after all he's done. 

No, he can only hope to do good. And the only way he'll be able to do that is with the team. If this is what it takes to ease his team into working with him, if this is what it takes for him to stay, then he'll do it.

"O-okay."

"Atta boy, Villain! I knew you could do it, man."

Villain nods, trying to give him a smile.

Team Leader moves towards him all too quickly, and he can't help the flinch. The man doesn't seem to notice—or at least he doesn't acknowledge it—and is soon once again gently tilting Villain's chin up from where it had fallen. 

Villain fights the urge to lean into the touch.

While he's distracted, Team Leader swiftly brings the collar, already disengaged and bent open at the hinges, and presses it to Villain's skin. 

Villain jolts at the cold metal and fights to swallow as it's closed around his neck.

The locking mechanism clicks right up against his spine. He can't help the shudder that trickles down his back at the finality of the sound.

"I'm so proud of you, bud," Team Leader says with a big smile and a ruffle of Villain's shaggy curls.

The tightness in his chest eases, just a little. A little part of him flares in anger at how easily he's comforted. He doesn't deserve the comfort.

But he's trying. The collar now fit snuggly around his neck, like it was made for him, is proof of that.

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ps ex-villain whumpee on the hero team but whumped by the hero team is my all-time favorite trope and it is so hard to find I have finally hit the point of needing to produce my own story to scratch the itch