#What the fuck have I made this is so stupid

[gojosprettyprincess]

THAT GIRL IS...POISON!!!

Overstimulation, slight somno, Not proofread

A/n - hello! I know I haven’t been posting that much recently because I’m on a small tumblr break but I still decided to schedule this post so I hope everyone enjoys it!

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Sweetheart—hahh fuck! Don’t you think you’re going too ngh-fast, Ohh fuckkk!” His moans escaped in a mixture of desperation and pleasure, his voice husky and filled with desire as he struggled to maintain his hold on your waist in an attempt to steady himself properly—Fuck, Satoru felt so lightheaded and dizzy, his thighs trembled as he weakly tried to recover from his pasting orgasms which was the…third one?? In a row.

It wasn’t really your intention for it to be this way. Dealing with difficult coworkers all day was challenging enough, but having to cover a shift last minute because of someone else's absence made things even tougher for you. So least to say when you finally came home from work you were sooo frustrated and had to let off some steam and you don’t know what, but something came over you seeing your pretty boyfriend, shirtless with his grey sweatpants hanging low by his hips, revealing a glimpse of his mouth-watering happy trail and v line in the kitchen cooking dinner for the two of you. It’s like it triggered something inside of your brain.

And that's how you found yourself on top of him on the living room couch, his snowy-white hair tickling his forehead, damped with sweat as he gazed up at you with half-lidden eyes in a mixture of exhaustion and desire. His sticky cum from the last three rounds marinating inside your cunt as you continued milking him for the forth, sure your thighs were quivering and aching but it’s nothing compared to the overwhelming amount of pleasure you got from fucking your boyfriend like this. Your feet gently rested on his toned thighs as you bounced up and down on his cock, trying to cum once again and get him as stimulated as possible.

His jaw fell slack and his eyes rolled back repeatedly in sheer ecstasy at the lewd sight of you fucking down at him like this—sure Satoru loved being in control and fucking you absolutely stupid as you drooled and cried into his expensive bed sheets while he pounds your sloppy little cunt from behind but there’s just something about seeing his feisty, persistent little girlfriend being so demanding and treating him like your personal toy to fuck yourself on made him lose his mind. He loved it so so much.

He enjoys being your dildo to cream on—even if he’s on the verge of literal tears right now from the overstimulation of you bouncing your ass on his twitching, overused cock. he didn’t even had the power to try and get you off from his oversensitive dick—all he could do is lie there and take it. You won’t lie, you carried a lot of pride in having the strongest a whimpering and moaning mess alll because of you.

“Babyyy, Goddd! you’re so fucking crazy” his voice cracked as he flashed a fucked out smile at you as you ran your fingertips along the defined ridges of his abs before trailing them upwards to his chest—feeling every bit of muscle from his body that you could possibly reach. “You look so shit!- fucking beautiful”.

“Yeahhh? Oh you look so pretty like this too toruuu” you cooed, his cock was filling you up so well, just the way you wanted. You raked your hand over his chest, groping it before you accidentally did something. Which made his cock jump inside of you, throbbing and pulsating—you felt it and it made you questioned, why you never thought about it before?

“Whatthefuck—Holy shitt nghh” he groaned out, a lump forming in his throat.

You pinched both of his nipples, twisting and toying with the hardened bud before he lets out a high-pitched whine, his ragged breaths quickening as he came, spilling whatever bit of cum was left inside his balls into your already stuffed and leaking pussy, the action catching you off guard, causing your back arched slightly, the overwhelming pleasure consumed you as your rhythm got sloppy. You quickly chased your high following him—his gooey cum coating your sensitive clit and dripping down all over his balls and sheets as his balls throbbed with his release, his seed getting fucked so deep inside you as you continued bouncing on him.

His pretty pathetic whimpers and moans were like music to your ears, you were actually starting to feel bad but you were soo desperate to cum, you had to—even if you already did it about four times. It felt so fucking good and seeing Satoru like this made you even hornier.

You moved your hand down to rub your clit, feeling the intense pleasure building up as three of your fingers carefully circled the sensitive bundle of nerves as Satoru weakly looked up at you, if it wasn’t for his bright ass blue eyes peaking out faintly, you wouldn’t have even noticed. He had no power or energy to do anything, it’s like your pussy snatched his soul from his body and he’s just laying there lifeless but with his cock still throbbing with need and joy.

“Mmm fuck baby, M’ gonna cum on your cock again, gonna make a creamy little mess on you toru” you moaned out, your head falling back as you squeezed a handful of your bouncing tits, he whines eagerly at your exclamations. The pit of your stomach flutters as you came undone on your boyfriend's cock once again, your juices leaking all around his shaft as your pussy squeezes around him like a vice, at this point, Satoru’s cheeks were so flushed and feverish.

Your body collapsed onto his with his cock still nested and marinating in your warm, cum-filled pussy as you brushed the stands of stray hairs that veiled his eyes before planting a sweet, gentle kiss on his forehead. There for no doubt that Satoru wasn’t asleep right now, you could just tell from his breathing patterns and it was sooo adorable to you.

Maybe you’ll give him some time to wake up before round five orrr was it six? starts again.

[webism]

"and whenever you smile at me, i promise to smile back."

it was a stupid vow, but one you made to satoru at the altar regardless. he had tears in his blue eyes and his lips were quivering and in the moment you really meant it, but god can he be an asshole.

like when he's denying you an orgasm. and he has you on your back, legs parted and hips rocking up against his tongue as he makes out with your pussy like he's on death row. he knows you on a molecular level, every inching indicator of your coming orgasm, and as soon as you give yourself away he's pulling back and wiping his lips while you groan because this is the third time this week.

and when he looks down at you with those puppy dog eyes and flashes you the biggest grin he can manage, you want to flip him off and make him sleep on the couch. you nearly do.

"you made a vow to me, baby," he tsks. "cmon, let me see that pretty smile of yours."

you turn your lips up, just enough to hold true to your vow. "id smile more if you let me cum."

"wrong," satoru shrugs, "you look like this—" he parts his lips and rolls his eyes back dramatically "—when you cum."

"fuck you," you look away, but his hand is quick to shoot out and turn your gaze back onto him. he's pulling his hard cock from his sweats and tapping the tip against your clit a few times before sighing.

"i'm going to, bossy."

and he pushes into you with a sick pace that has you feeling each hard inch of him. you'll never get used to it, to the way he stretches you out and sends you dizzy with just his cock.

"you look dick drunk already," he grins, you shoot him a sarcastic smile in turn.

you grab his bulging bicep with your left hand, the ring on your finger cool against his warm skin. it makes his hips stutter, having you claimed by him in more than one way: with the heavy rock he put on your finger and with his aching cock deep inside of you.

you know what he's going to do, try and edge you again and again until you go stupid on his cock and finally beg. but the way he reacts to just your wedding ring alone gives you a sick idea. you're still hot from him eating you out—it won't take much to push you over the edge.

"my toru," you hum, and smile a little as you feel his pace increase. "how'd i end up with such a pretty husband?"

he shakes his head, white locks falling into his eyes. "stop, i know what you're—"

"marrying you was the best decision of my life, baby," you continue, and bring your ringed hand up to hold the side of his face. his hips buck into you a little faster, a little wilder. "but i want you to fuck me like you did on our wedding night. till i was nauseous with how deep you were inside me. really made me yours, huh baby?"

that's all it takes. he's cutting off your intake of breath with a kiss and sustaining you on his essence alone. his cock splits you open at depths you think shouldn't be possible, and with each mean thrust of his hips into yours the headboard hits the wall in rhythmic mirror of your lusts.

and satoru chides himself: he thought denying you would be fun, a cheeky way to rile you up and get you begging for just the tip if its all he'd gift you with. but he's your husband, your other half: you aren't whole without him and he's empty when not filling you. he fucks you hard and quick and mean but with so much love you'd swear it was your wedding night all over.

and when you finally think you're going to cum, satoru encourages you with quick circles over your clit and the sweetest of praise from his lips. he loves you, he loves everything about you, there's no stronger aphrodisiac than your pleasure.

you cum hard around his cock and milk an orgasm out of him in turn. he fills you, claims you as his all over, and moans symphonies as he does so. your chest heaves, breath lost on you, and when he smiles down at you you're barely seeing straight enough to smile back.

he leans down to kiss you, a hungry kiss. "gonna fuck you so dumb and see if you still remember making that vow, okay baby?"

[sams-dumping-ground]

Yeah, because I'd scam you with this. The fuck? I'm might have already made a couple of deals with you but I'm not stupid. Like I said, it's the starting shell. For that specific model it'll break even earlier due to user error. Besides they looked at the blueprints, didn't see the error, and got what they paid for. They're just going to go back to my company for more anyway. I'm going to make changes to it so that it doesn't break as easily.

Byrd sits at the top of a high rise, looking down at the street below. He stretches out and lays on his back on the roof, wings stretched to his sides.

Jeez. These are always boring. Nothing interesting happens in the meantime...

*byrd hears jean's voice behind him*

Heya.

[peachysunrize]

MDNI! word count: 890

Nerd!Aemond who is shameless when he eats you out in the corner of the library, his head buried under your short skirt and between your thighs while he sucks on your clit.

He is patient with how he drags the tip of his pink skillful tongue between your wet folds, soft thin lips closing around the bundle of nerves before he makes a delicious suction on them, making you bite on the sleeve of the hoodie you stole from him today.

You push your hips up, hand reaching down to tangle in his neatly brushed and tied hair, pushing him further into your eager pussy, and he doesn’t back away from it. Quite the opposite in fact, he dives down more, smothering his face with the scent and taste of your wetness, his stupid rectangle-shaped glasses digging into the flesh of your thighs.

You moan as he tightens his grip around you, pulling you on the edge of the table so he can have better access to your aching cunt. Aemond opens his good eye, dragging his gaze from your pelvis up to your flustered face while he opens his mouth to bite on your mound, relishing how you squeal and throw your head back, one hand coming down on the table harshly.

Your eyes widen at the loud sound you made, but Aemond seems unbothered as he places your legs on his broad shoulders pulling you impossibly closer before he brings his hand down to your pussy lips, humming at the sight of your hole clenching and unclenching around nothing.

You look down at him; lips parted, breathless and worried about getting caught, but you don’t wish to stop him at all. Not when his glorious chin is glistening with your juices, his bright blue eyes shine with mischief even from behind the fog on his glasses.

“Stop staring!” You hiss at him, biting your bottom lip when his eye meets yours, a huge grin forming on his face as he slowly circles your entrance with his pointer finger.

“Why?” He asks, resting his head on your inner thigh while you reach to play with his hair, caressing his forehead while he wraps his arms around your waist, “I’m simply worshiping my dumb girl.”

“I’m not dumb!” You flick his forehead, whispering angrily at him, “Not everyone can get these stupid chemistry questions right like you!”

“That’s why we are here, to study,” he smirks, leaning down to prep your inner thigh with kisses, sucking and biting a path leading to your weeping cunt, “But you were dumb enough to fall into my trap, baby.”

“It’s not my fault you look stupidly handsome and can make a puddle out of me with your words,” you groan, closing your eyes and pressing your lips into a thin line as soon as he brings his finger to your hole, “You’re a fucking dick, you promised you’ll help me study!”

“What can I say? All this academic stress should be relieved somehow, right?” He whispers against your cunt, pushing a digit inside, sucking on your clit while he stares at your twisted face, “Otherwise I can’t help you pass your exam.”

No more words are exchanged and he shifts his focus on the task at hand, closing his eye before he pushes his nose against your nerves, thrusting his finger in and out of you slowly.

Moans are threatening to spill out of your mouth as soon as he adds another finger, curling them immediately as he fucks you with them at a fast pace, making a filthy lewd sound echo in the quiet library.

The feeling of his tongue lapping at your throbbing clit and his fingers massaging your sweet spot is enough to make your legs shake. You arch your back, one hand slapping against your lips and the other holding you up while you wrap your thighs around his head, locking him between your legs as you gush over his face, coating him in your juices.

“Hmmm,” he gives your clit one last kiss before he rests his chin on your lower belly, looking up at you with a shit-eating grin as he pulls his fingers out slowly, “Sweet as ever, my star pupil.” “I—”

“Targaryen!” 

Your eyes widen, and you jump down from the desk, fixing your skirt as best as possible before sitting next to Aemond, crossing your legs as one of the Library ladies steps in your aisle.

“Keep quiet!” She hisses at Aemond, and he nods and smiles, wiping the corner of his mouth with a napkin he pulled out from your bag, watching as she gives the two of you a pointed look before leaving you alone once more.

“That was so fucking close, Aemond!” you slap his shoulder, still breathless and flustered by your mind-blowing orgasm, “Academic stress my ass, we were nearly caught!”

“Fuckin’ hell, come here,” he grabs you by the nape of your neck, bringing you close until he can press his lips to yours, “I needed an energy boost before I could sit here for hours and try to teach you how biochem works.”

“I thought we were studying chemistry!” You gasp, looking at the wrong books you have brought with you.

“My dumb star pupil,” he chuckles lowly, grabbing your hand before you can pinch him.

“Asshole!”

[backinmyphase]

Just a heart broke bitch!

Synopsis. Only 24 hours passed since your ex ended it. So why did you find yourself in a club waiting for someone to fuck? Someone like Satoru Gojo?

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, college! Gojo, Satoru is down bad and reader doesn't know, overstím, (not mentioned but reader is on the pill), nipple sucking

Word count. 2.2k

A/N. I have never written smut before, so this is more like an experiment hehe

"Shouldn't we at, fuck! hah~ l-least have a first date?"

Gojo had that smug smile on his face as his eyes looked down at your body, inspecting the sweat that was shining from your naked chest. Behind his smugness you could see his back tense up. Just as sweaty as yours. His hair disheveled, standing up in all directions.

"S-shut u-AAAAAAh-" you gasped and couldn't keep the moan in as he made you shudder with his-

"Up."

A little context to this situation you found yourself in. You were in a shit position. A couple of hours before you sat at the table of a cafe trying to grasp what was happening right there.

"What?"

"We should break up." your, well now ex-boyfriend didn't have any readable expression on his face. "I can't do this anymore."

"What do you mean with this?" your body stiffened, no seeable reaction shown.

"I heard about how you acted in high school. About your little adventures with your friends." his look was different from before. It was filled with- "I don't want a girlfriend which is a slut. Who sucked off more men than she kissed."

Your hand gripped your glass of coffee harder. "Excuse me?"

He shook his head. "You know what I am talking about. Let's just end and forget about this relationship. It was never that good anyway."

And like that he got up and walked away.

And you really wished you got up and gave him a piece of your mind. Tell him how it really was at these parties which you were back then to young to go to. And how the guys you met there knew that. How they used that.

Tell him what kind of entitled asshole he was, to shame you for your old ways of seeking validation.

Back then you were only seventeen. And they were at least twenty one. But you were the filthy slut, who was to wild and surely not loyal enough to be in a relationship, right?

You hated how even now you just swallowed your emotions, your tears and your feeling of self worth.

Because you shouldn't be crying about such an asshole, right? Your friends, well they called themselves that, said not to sulk just search for a new one in the club. They probably told him all about your old stories. Like always when things were going good for you.

They were the only people you had, who stuck by your side. So was it really your fault that you took out your black dress, with your six inch heels?

Yes.

Because even though you wanted to deny it, you liked this boy you had dated. He was your first real relationship, shouldn't that mean something?

But it was never that good anyway, right?

While sitting and sipping champagne in this nightclub, you could already feel your common sense slipping away.

Stupid like back then, because you should know that your friends wouldn't bring you back to your home. Isn't that how you ended up in all these beds? Them doing drugs outside while you were drinking with a guy who will bring you with him, no matter what you really wanted.

You shouldn't trust those people.

It was always just drunk calls, drunk texts, drunk tears, drunk sex.

And those days were behind you. Right?

You wish you could say that. But then you wouldn't be sitting here, dressed up to forget what was really going through your mind right now. No, they weren't behind you and maybe your ex was right.

You stopped smoking along time ago. You stopped following these things that told you you were only something with them. But today was different.

You took some cigarettes that were given to you from some dude with a devious smile. Not your best move. But right now anything was better than you alone in your head.

"This seat free?"

And then there was this guy like your fate was laughing at you. This guy who had this gorgeous white hair and kind of boyish smile. Like a perfect opportunity to forget tonight.

"Yeah, no worries." you were kind of surprised at the sound of your own voice. It was raspier than usual. Like the smoke already made it's mark.

His tall frame lowered onto the seat next to you, his body facing your direction, instead of the bar. He already had this curious look. "So what brings you here alone?"

You shrugged and gave the bartender a sign as you finished your champagne. "Two more wines, please."

The bartender just nodded and fetched you your first one.

"Woah, slow down." The white haired mans expression changed. "That bad down to get wasted?"

"Yeah, well wouldn't be in a Club if not, or would I?" you looked up at his face, and now was your turn to check him out. Other than the fact that he was tall and he was insanely pretty. That was no problem, in fact it helped. But his almost concerned expression wasn't.

"I guess." He tilted his head a bit. "What's your name?"

Maybe it was the alcohol but for some stupid reason you just told him your name. And he leaned forward and whispered.

"I'm Gojo Satoru."

That wasn't ideal. While you didn't really care about your college people, he had quite a name in your college. But any critical thinking was thrown out of the window since your second shot in the last hour.

Amd as you looked at those eyes that had the for you known look in them you whispered back.

"You want to fuck?"

Yeah, your thinking really did leave an hour ago. Because you swore that you would never be in these surroundings and would never ask such a question a stranger again. But like back then you just wanted to forget.

You didn't remember what came next and how you did end up in this small apartment. All you did know that you were impatient at Gojo because he took too long to get on the bed and fuck you.

Why were there two glasses of wine on this table next to him? Were you talking to him? You couldn't remember.

You just knew that you needed something to keep these thoughts away.

"God, you are driving me crazy." he was on top of you, his hands were everywhere, touching you, heating up your body.

"So beautiful for what?" he mumbled, his naked body (wait when did he get naked? When did you get naked? Oh what does it matter...) was pressed against yours as he kissed your lips.

"I need you now." your arms now around him pressing him closer to your, trying to get your aching pulse down there closer to his.

He laughed and laid his head back. "You are acting like a dick you know that?"

"Well you might as well stick it in."

And that's how you ended up under Satoru Gojo as he bullied his far too big cock inside you.

And you could almost swear he was in love with you, with how he clashed on your teeth so messy, so hot, so starved. Like he couldn’t get enough with the way he hastily moves to press wet, open-mouthed kisses down your jaw. 

"Oh. Fuck. You are so unfair you know that?" he was heavily gasping for air, but still made sure to leave a kiss after every deep thrust inside you.

"Is that what you wanted? No more thoughts because I fuck you so good?" and he went all the way back out of you just to slam his hips back down again.

"fuck!" you almost screamed as he hit that spot inside again, holding onto his back, no more like clawing at his back for dear life. "right t-there, please!"

His head went lower with his trail of kisses until he reached your chest. "No need to beg, pretty."

Your body is slick with sweat and only growing hotter by the moment; the sound of his rough panting coupled with the occasional whine he lets out only has you panting more.

And he has the nerve to go faster while thrusting inside you. Making you see stars as he kissed your nipples, sucked on them, made out with your chest.

"Satoru!" you moaned, you couldn't do anything else. "You are killing me!"

And even though you were far gone and overstimulated to the moon you could feel his cocky smile at your chest. And he didn't even consider slowing down at your plead, no he more seemed proud of himself making you so fucked out.

How is he fucking you like his life depended on it, couldn't he get tired? Every lasting slap! at your walls had you gasping for air, while he had to close his eyes at how your walls clamped down around him and sucked him back in.

Was this heaven?

"Are you close?" he was out of breath while he stopped sucking for just a second and you would be lying if you said you didn't want him to just continue.

"Yeah, please keep going."

"What did I say about b-begging?" he moaned again. " I'm getting closer myself. Where do you want it?"

And for some dumb reason you screamed-

"Inside!"

And he did. You felt the hot spurt inside you, filling you up, making you feel so full. And yet he didn't stop, no still helped you to reach your high.

And you couldn't help how his frantic hits against your core caused your toes to curl and your back to arch further than ever before as you’re slowly being brought closer to your tense, and awaited edge. “Cumming, cumming!”

"Yeah, just let go for me..." his voice was low amd his face suddenly no longer on your chest, but so close to your own. "Cum for me, pretty girl."

"Ooh... Ah!" it was almost embarrassing how hard you came. But you needed that at this day. Maybe it was far more embarrassing how you were asleep five seconds later.

"Fuck, baby, you are so beautiful..."

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

"Want a glass of water?"

Your eyes were still sticky, the last night not fully slept away. Where were you? This wasn't your own bed.

You sat up, but realizing that your head would spin and push you down before you could steady yourself. And as you looked up you saw him.

And you remembered what had happened yesterday.

"Wouldn't hurt." he answered himself and sat down next to your, heavy, heavy body and somehow lifted your back so you sat. Bringing the water to your lips.

"Drink so you don't throw up on me now."

You just obeyed him and sipped on the cold water, that went down your aching, dry throat so deliciously. You downed it in one sip.

"That's right." his hand went up and down your back soothing. "You and I had maybe too many drinks yesterday."

And then you realized the situation.

You were sitting here. On the bed of a stranger. With still no clothes on. As you drunkenly followed him into his apartment. What was wrong with your brain?

"Thank you." you took the glass from him. "I'm alright now."

He had that soft smile and something inside it punched you inside your gut.

"Alright I'm doing breakfast now." he stood up and looked amused as you hid yourself under his covers. "You can come when you're ready."

And like that he was out the door. Breathing began to be so much easier. You had to find a way out of here. And quickly, before this was becoming more awkward than it should.

What were you thinking yesterday? Fucking Gojo Satoru of all people? You just proved the point of your ex. You really were a slut.

Your things were all around the room, probably disgarded in the act yesterday. Picking them up and dressing yourself in them again felt nasty, like last night was sticking onto you.

You opened the door and looked around to see the exit. And there it was. The wardrobe with your shoes. You tiptoed there, softly.

"Leaving already?"

You turned around to a Gojo Satoru leaning against the doorframe of the supposed kitchen. He looked amused and had one eyebrow raised.

"Well, yeah... I completely forgot about it, but I have some things to do..." you fiddle with your shoes impatiently.

"Alright, should I bring you home?"

"NO!" You cleared your throat. "I mean- there is really no need."

He shrugged. "If you say so. But be safe and drink at home again."

You nodded and with that you were out.

You didn't remember your old one night stands to be that open and smily. No, they just told you how to leave and slept through the morning, while snoring.

Your phone vibrated inside of your bag. And you could see a message of a new number.

Satoru <333

Hey, get home safe!

Oh and we exchanged numbers yesterday, if you don't remember.

You couldn't help but feel guilty, but you left him on read. Why did he message you? Why was he so nice to you like he wanted to get to know you.

How could you tell him, that you just used him as a good fuck?

[axeldidathing]

(putting this so the 1 isn't huge as fuck, idk why tumblr does that) 1, apologies for doing it in a way that made sense to me and not going out of my way to figure out and copy how every other person was doing a "write your name without some letters" post that I didnt put more than a few seconds of thought into for fun. 2, idk, maybe bc you know what my name, that's also in my username (that as you mentioned, doesn't have dashes) is you could use context clues to put together that the dashes are where the other three, missing, letters of my name are instead of immediately just assuming that i'm stupid.

ok gimmickverse let's all do this

I would be oho-h-

@maryland-officially @the-real-catholic-church @north-dakota-unofficial @non-tyrannical-usa @thee0ne-whos-trying and anyone else!

[thephantomsdream]

so I've been reading real published romance books and they cannot fill the void that ao3 and company do fill, but they did give me an idea. ok, lmfao, hear me out. (I've had this in my drafts for way too long, i decided to release it because why tf not)

content: alien!141, soulmates!141, abduction, intergalactic human trafficking, space shit; very vague idea of anything ever; probably made up alien names; writer is at work while dealing with annoying costumers so it's rushed and dumb.

imagine:

Good ol' you, in your house, unaware that in the deep, vast universe, trafficking also existed. Not long ago, a reptilian race found out about our warm bodies, interesting features and intelligent yet primitive brains, and started to abduct and sell men and women to rich buyers. It was good business, especially considering our side of the universe wasn't even aware of extraterrestrial life, so they couldn't even guess where they disappeared! The treaty and all intergalactic laws were vague about us. "Let them be" meaning "Let them fuckers figure their shit out, lol idk".

Well, as you can understand, the Sheh'deauz (lmfao stay with me) decided to in fact not let us be. So back to lovely you, yeah?

Home alone, playing videogames or something, when suddently you see some flashes of light out the window. It was weird considering it wasn't raining but you remained calm, as you assumed maybe a storm is approaching? Mainly, you couldn't give a shit but the moment you heard scratching and hissing outside your door, you panicked. Long story short, your house slowly started filling with an invisible gas that just made you pass out, but you did see your door opening, same weird blue-white light emanating from under it as it did, and a scaly leg entering your home as you fell on the floor.

You figured, as the genius that you were, that you were, in fact, not dreaming as you spent many hours (days? felt like days) in a cage. Very oddly technologically advanced. In another strike of genius, and of course, after seeing your kidnappers, you figured it was a spaceship and you were in some deep sci-fi shit. (maybe after laughing and asking them where are the hidden cameras. i would...)

After throwing tantrums and having the ugly multi-colored creatures mock you and hiss at you, you kinda gave up and sat by the very human bed you've been given and allowed time to pass. You were given food every so often, a toilet nearby, water at your disposal. But you feared for your life.

Well, let me tell you something. You have the luckiest misfortune of all, really. Or maybe, just maybe, things are meant to be this way. Maybe it was all meant to happen like this. Allow me to explain.

In another corner of the universe, four of the greatest warriors of the Intergalactic Army frowned at a holographic screen. A female alien, older, still beautiful, ethereal looking, skin creamy white with some lavender edges and striking blue eyes was frowning back.

"You're fucking kidding me." Their captain said (in a different language than ours but your writer here is multi-lingual, don't worry), getting closer to the screen. She just nodded, rubbing her forehead.

"Where is that again?" Asked another.

"So like—" a third one, this one with a distinct accent compared to the others, tilted his head incredulously. "They're our cousins genetically?"

"You can say so." She groaned. "The Council decided to not touch that part of the galaxy. They are being observed. Fucking hell! They were going on the right path."

"If they don't destroy their own planet before." The captain muttered, voice tired and coarse. In his many, many years lived, he's seen it happen again and again. Greed and stupidity almost whipped their race, so he's been following the Terrans close-by, as close as a mere Intergalactic Task Force Captain (stick with me lmfao) could follow.

"So what's the plan?" The tallest one asked, mask made of what others assumed was one of his most dangerous prey's skull was placed on his face.

"We give them hell." Captain commanded, Laswell nodding.

"Stay close, at the outskirts of their galaxy. We intercept any package and find their buyers."

"What do we do with our lil cousins then?"

"Eliminate any witnesses."

Shit went down really quick. You figured they were preparing for something as the guards by your cell somehow summoned some advanced looking chairs from the walls to strap themselves on and hissed at you mockingly, as they've done before. You just sat in a corner, by the bed, and wanted to cry. You were going through all stages of grief every few hours and it was getting exhausting. You were just now starting to understand how dire your situation was and how little chances you had of going home.

They turned off the main lights and a thousand scenarios crossed your mind. It was as if they were bracing for something. You frowned as you saw the guards tense as some alien hieroglyphics appeared on a holographic screen. It looked... like a countdown... You grasped the bed, trying to brace yourself for something. And good that you did because it felt as if the ship collapsed with something.

It basically shook you off to the ground, and while you'd think this was supposed to happen, you quickly realize it wasn't since the guards unstrapped themselves from the chairs and started shrieking as alarms suddently blared. After that? Seconds and it was over. Two white blasts ended them both, hitting them exactly in the middle of their ugly skulls. You did not hear any footsteps but you saw a shadow approaching your cell, so you scurried closer to your bed and now presumably magic shield that will block blasts that melt alien skulls.

The barriers from your cell unlocked, sliding to the sides and someone jumped in front of you. Someone big, dressed sleekly in black, although you could swear the edges of his frame looked transparent for a second. It was big, yet had the complexity of a human so you stayed locked in place, big scared eyes on the person pointing a big son-of-a-bitch gun at you. You heard it growl and speak something shortly, and the hairs on your whole body pricked.

World stopped for Price as he cracked another neck, just after locking eyes with the leader of this "cargo" ship. He was about to take a step forward to gently guide this person towards personal enlightenment by confessing all the information they needed, even if it would be involuntarily, when Soap spoke... well, growled just one word in their comms.

"Mate."

[cherryswisherz]

roles reversed

toxic!paige x toxic!reader

warnings: smut, sub!paige, reader pushed paige into a wall, toxic toxic toxic situationship (LEAVE THEM IT NEVER ENDS WELL)

based on this req

"we be on some toxic shit, but i cannot get off this bitch"

forever (lil baby ft. fridayy, 2022)

-

this girl got me fucked up. 

"so let me get this straight." i asked, rubbing my temples because paige was giving me a fucking migraine. "you thought that i had a thing for your teammate.... so you FUCKED SOMEONE ELSE?"

"okay when you put it like that-" 

"THERES NO OTHER FUCKING WAY TO PUT IT PAIGE!" i was full on screaming at this point. "HOW MANY TIMES DO I NEED TO TELL YOU THAT I'M NOT NOR AM I GOING TO FUCK SOMEONE ELSE?" 

"bro stop yelling at me." 

she was making demands right now? 

oh she has life all the way fucked up.

"get the fuck out paige."  i shook my head and began to walk to my room. 

i had to just end it.

that situationship shit was for the fucking birds and i had to protect my peace because if i handled it was gonna end up in fucking prison. 

"baby no, let's talk about this."

"oh i'm baby now?" i scoffed at this. "was i baby when you were fucking that girl? was i baby when you chose not to ask the simplest fucking question, and instead chose to step out on the rule that you  created?" i asked walking closer to her, with my fists clenched because at that point...

i needed that.

"or am i only baby when you need a rough fuck?" her eyes flicked from mine to my lips, which only further irritated me. "am im only baby after you've called me every other name in the book?" her tongue darted out against her bottom lip as i finally reached her, standing directly in front of her, daring her to break the eye contact i'd established. "you only want me when no one else is willing to let you do shit we do." i shoved her, making her stumble. 

"yo." she says, still holding eye contact. "chill out."

yeah i'm finna whoop her muhfuckin ass. 

"bro on my mama you got me fucked up." i muttered and start pushing her as hard as i could, saying whatever came to my mind. 

"you wanna fuck bitches now?" shove "that's what you wanna do?" shove "you wanna fuck them and then come here and fuck me like im just an afterthought?" shove "get the fuck out!" and then finally her back met the wall next to my door and i felt like i'd accomplished something.

....that was until she put me in a bear hug, making it damn near impossible to move. "y/n, stop bro!"

i used all my strength and ripped myself out of her hold. "NO YOU STOP!" i yelled. "do you have any idea how fucking annoying you fucking are bro?" i asked trying to catch my breath. "how the fuck do you sit there and make the 'no fucking other people' rule and then turn around and break it? you fucking slut."

 "i'm a slut?" she asked, smirking a little, but at this point i didn't give a damn. i was gonna say what i needed to say and then be done with this whole thing. 

"yes. a slut. a whore. whatever you wanna call yourself." i said, crossing my arms. "you never wanted to be exclusive. you just wanted me to be yours and only yours. but you wanna go give away everything that's mine. you're community pussy at this point." 

she practically howled at that. "community pussy is crazy." this bitch was laughing in my fucking face-

next thing i knew i was running towards her ready to molly whop her ass. 

"okay! okay! chillchillchillchill!" she put her hands up before i got to her, which made me stop. "what can i do to fix this?"

easy. 

"ask me to be your girlfriend." 

"anything but that." 

this is exactly why i was trying to smack her. because she's one of them dumb hoes. she just said 'what can i do?'... 

just stupid. 

all of a sudden an idea hit me. 

"let me fuck you." i crossed my arms and smirked because i knew she would give me the upper hand if i wanted it.  

paige wasn't a stone top. she was a switch, she just didn't do it often because i was the og pillow princess. but not today. today i was gonna do what she'd been doing to me for almost 6 months. 

ruin her. 

"oh?" she grinned. "you wanna top me baby?"

"i really wanna beat your ass but martin luther king said violence isn't the answer and i listen to my ancestors... so yes, this will do."

she chuckled a little which irked the fuck out of me but then she plopped on the couch and manspread. "do your worst." 

she had no fucking idea what my worst was.

i climbed in her lap and her hands moved to my ass but i quickly shut that down and pinned them to the couch on either side of her. then i proceeded to take her shirt and sports bra off so that her top half was completely bare. 

i took a moment to admire her. leaving paige alone would have honestly been so much easier if she was ugly but unfortunately, she's hand crafted by jesus himself, so here i was... delusional and pissed off again. 

i start with her neck, soft kisses at first, then as i felt her breathing pick up i switched to longer, more sensual movements and grind into her lap, smiling at the way her hips buck up. i place a hand on her collarbones and slide them down to her tits, kneading them and relishing in the whimpers escaping paiges lips. 

she tried to close her legs as my hands travel further down her body. 

"spread your legs." i demanded. 

she blinked a few times, her blue eyes finding mine. she looked like she couldn't comprehend what i was saying, but when i slid my hand across the space of her lap between us, she complied, eagerly spreading her legs for me. 

a soft sigh from her lips as my hands slipped past the waistband of her briefs and grazed her core. 

"yes, fuck," she breathed out, arching into my fingers that ran circles around her clit. so impatient. a moan fell from her lips as i sped up my pace, making her legs spread further as she chased her orgasm. 

which she seemed desperate for. that much was obvious by how gloriously wet she was for me. 

she gripped the cushions of my couch, moaning even louder when i slid two fingers into her. 

"right there" she breathed rolling her eyes closed as i hit her spot. she moaned especially loud when i curled my fingers into her. i felt her legs grow tight under me, which  made me want to smile with pride for myself. 

"how you feel p?" i felt her tighten around my fingers as i spoke. 

"close- im so close and- shit - it feels so good." she breathed out, chest rising and falling with each breath. 

i curled my fingers deeper inside of her to hit that spongy spot and soaked in the cry she let out. 

then i slid out of her.  leaving her hanging. 

"now how do you feel?" i asked. 

the look on paiges face was murderous and pained at the same time. like she hated this but she was gonna put up with it anyway. 

"like you're not done yet." 

i smiled. "not even close babe." i patted her thigh, stepping off of her lap. "go to my bed and wait for me." 

as i sauntered off into my hallway closet to t get he batteries i needed, i heard the soft patters of paiges sock covered feet hurrying to my bedroom. 

i grabbed the batteries and walked into my room to find paige sitting at the foot of my bed, rid of her bottoms, feet tapping the ground in what, im assuming, anticipation. 

i moved so i was standing directly in front of her, grabbing her jaw and pulling her into a kiss that even had me ready to let this whole thing go. 

luckily though, i had enough willpower to pull away and walk to my night stand. 

"lay down for me p." and she did. 

watching her like this was almost painful. bare, toned body layed out on my bed, and she was doing everything i'd asked without a second thought. 

i lived for this shit.

i was pulled out of my thoughts when paige asked what i was gonna do.

great fucking question. 

 i took my time, looking in the drawer of my nightstand, which held all of the things paige had often used to bring me to my highest points. 

not that she need them.

i decided to keep it simple and nabbed the black bullet shaped toy then made my way back to the gorgeous piece of woman that was losing her mind in my bed. 

"legs wider apart." i heard her breathe sharply as she drummed her fingers on her toned stomach. 

she was excited which made me feel a little bit better about what i was about to do. 

setting the toy down on bed beside paige, i knelt down so i was face to face with her core that was still primed from her denied orgasm earlier. 

god she was sooooo... FUCK.

"you're always acting like i'm just a quick fuck to you p." i ran two fingers up her folds, ignoring the whimper she let out, "and i don't know why." i slid a finger into her and leaned down so i fell face first into her pussy. 

her eyes rolled back as i rubbed circles on her clit and pumped in and out of her with increasing speed. 

her back arched off the bed when i added a second finger and attached my lips to her clit, sucking lightly but i used my free hand to hold her hips her place. 

i pulled back long enougt to say "watch." 

with hooded eyes she stares down at me like i had hung the moon and stars myself. 

as she fucking should.

loud moans echoed around the room as she leaned further into my touch and i knew she was getting close. 

but she wasn't getting off that easy. 

she whined my name the second i'd stopped touching her. 

but i only laughed as turned it on the vibrator, giggling when her previously shut eyes flew open. 

"baby-" she was cut off by her own gasp, jerking forward when i tapped the vibrator against her clit. 

"don't. cum." standing up so i was looking down at her i asked the million dollar question. "i wanna know why you don't wanna be my girlfriend." i murmured, teasing her her folds. "just give me your point of view." 

i knew how she was feeling because i'd been in this very position so many times before. I knew she probably couldn't even think straight, let alone speak, but that wasn't gonna stop me from fucking with her. 

she whimpered as i dipped the vibrator inside of her. 

"speak, paige." i demanded, sliding the toy back out of her, only to run it over her puffy clit earning me a frustrated groan. 

"because you're you and i'm me- shit-" she moaned, arching off the bed again as i held the vibrator softly on her clit. "w-we're just- fuck- so different and i don't wanna..." she trailed off when i applied more pressure. 

"don't what?" i forced out, admiring the way her hands were gripping my sheets. 

when she didn't answer me i turned the vibration up a notch, soaking in the moans and whimpers she gave me.  

"please," she pleaded as her legs began trembling. 

"you just have to give an answer paige and i'll let you cum." i replied, turning the vibrator up again. 

with a deep moans she finally gave in. "i don't wanna lose you" she basically sobbed. 

 that's all i needed.

"cum for me paige." 

her eyes slammed shut and her head flew back as her whole body shook. guttural moans left her throat as she fell apart in front of me. 

it was beautiful, really. 

when she'd ridden her orgasm out, i tossed the vibrator on the bed and laid between her legs that wrapped around my waist. kissing her deeply, and pushing her hair out of her face, i fought the smile that was forming. 

right now wasn't about proving my point. it was about grounding paige. 

her eyes were glazed over as she stared at the ceiling, catching her breath. and then after a few seconds, her hands slithered around my waist, under my shirt. 

with a sigh, she her eyes met mine and she began talking. "of course i want you to be mine. i think.... i think i'm just scared i'm gonna fuck it up and you're gonna be done with me for real."

"you're gonna lose me regardless if you don't figure this shit out p." i said, pulling up so i was straddling her naked body. "i can't keep doing this shit. this was never just sex and you going out doing whatever with whoever is fucking me up a little." 

"i know mama." she said, pulling me back so i was flush against her chest, hugging me tightly "i'm gonna work on it, i swear." 

and even though it sounded nice in the moment, i knew she was full of shit. she'd never change, and i knew it. 

but a piece of me never wanted to stop trying. 

niyah speaks may this type of love never find you guys

taglist: @patscorner @riyahtheballer @mattslolita @thaatdigitaldiary @janaelalfysblunt @mrsengstler @kmoneymartini @sageworld

@darkskinchristiandiorpostergirl @justliketoreadsowhat @authentic-girl03 @pb524830 @dnftpn @pboogerswbb @sierrale8ne @ohbueckers @mrsarnold @wbbgetsmewetter @paigesbabygirl @ch12334

[scuderiahalf]

(almost) one year with you — c.sainz

pairing. carlos sainz x strategist!norris!fem!reader

summary. your boyfriend is usually so intelligent. when he makes one of the stupidest decisions of his life to break up with you, his best friend (and your idiot brother) decides to take matters into his own hands. 4.3k, 18+

warnings. breakups = makeup sex, oral (fem receiving), fingering, reader is kind of a bitch but carlos is into it

masterlist.

.

"I'm going to kick the door open."

"Please, do not do that," Carlos says from behind you.

"You think I can't?"

Smartly, Carlos chooses not to voice any further opinions.

You kick the door, more out of frustration than an actual attempt to break it open.

"I'm going to murder you when I get out of here, Lando!" you shout against the door, not really caring if your idiot brother has hung around to hear the very real threat.

You may not actually kill him (you're still debating it) but you will definitely hit him. At least five times. Maybe more. And he's not getting any of your late-night stress-baked cookies for several months. Asshole.

You kick the door again, harder. The wood bends near the bottom from the impact, rattling in the doorframe but otherwise unmoving. Your groan turns into a yell of frustration, punctuated by you hitting the still closed door with both hands. You seriously cannot believe Lando would do this.

"Are you finished?"

Carlos sounds almost amused.

If he hadn't been literally thrown into the room by not just Lando but Max and Alex as well, you might think he's in on this whole scheme. Instead, you just glare at him, irritated that he's so calm while you're both being held against your will.

"Is being made to be near me that horrible?" Carlos says.

"Oh, fuck off."

"You are acting as if they will not have to let us out eventually."

"How long is that going to take? Huh? I don't want to be locked in here for hours. It's actually FUCKING RIDICULOUS!"

You're shouting at the door again, hoping your dumbass brother and his stupid fucking friends can hear.

They all better be prepared for the consequences. There's no one better at holding a grudge than you.

You never should have trusted Lando when he had insisted you come to Charles Leclerc’s dumb yacht party. He never wants to be seen in public with you much less all but beg you to attend a party with all his friends who are so much cooler than you because he's an F1 driver and all his friends are, too, and you're just a strategist.

(You never thought that being a trackside strategist at Scuderia Ferrari would be preceded by "just" as though it isn't an impressive feat but with a brother like Lando Norris, nothing you do ever really seems to measure up. You're the reason Lando ever got into racing or F1 in the first place. So really, this is your own fault.)

You give up harassing the door (it locks from the inside so there must be something blocking it in the hallway) and start searching the room for another way out. It's a bedroom, and you're choosing to assume that it just happened to be the easiest place to trap you both and not a purposeful nudge to something untoward. Lando isn't that crude. You think.

After this little stunt, you don't think he deserves the benefit of the doubt.

You start checking all the drawers to see if there's anything useful. You don't actually know what you're looking for. Maybe like a fire axe or a hand saw so you can brute force your way out of here.

"We could talk," Carlos proposes.

"And give Lando what he wants? No, thank you."

"You are so proud. Can we not talk this out?"

"What's there to talk out, Carlos? You dumped me, remember?"

That shuts him up.

You refuse to look at him. Even with your back to him as you search through a completely empty dresser, you can feel the look on his face. Full lips pouting, big brown cow eyes all sad and pitiful. You'd fold like a cheap suit if you saw his pretty eyes right now and you're trying really hard to stay strong and hang onto your anger so you won't give in.

There's nothing in any of the dresser drawers. The nightstands are fruitless, too. The wardrobe houses only empty hangers, and not even the cheap wire ones that could be bent into something useful like a weapon to kill yourself with if things get any more tense in this tiny room.

"I regret it," he says.

You close the wardrobe with a heavy breath.

"I regretted it as soon as I said we should end it."

"Cry me a river, Sainz. Build a bridge. Get over it. You don't get to call me ‘nothing but a distraction’ then tell me you regret it and expect me to forgive you just like that—fuck this. I'm going to swim to shore."

You yank the balcony door open and climb up onto one of the chairs so you can get over the railing.

"Y/N!" Carlos curses in Spanish, scrambles after you and gets an arm around you before you can actually step up onto the railing. "What are you doing?!"

"I just said! I'm going to swim to shore. Let me go!"

Carlos picks you up like a purse dog and carries you back into the room. He stands in front of the balcony door after setting you down, blocking your only escape route.

"You cannot swim to shore. We are miles out of sea!"

"If it gets me out of this room, I'd do it!"

"Can you not just talk to me?"

"No!"

"Why?!"

"Because I don't want to!"

"What are you afraid is to happen?"

"I don't have to explain myself. Especially not to you."

So, you don't explain yourself. You walk over to the couch and take a seat, arms and legs crossed, looking anywhere but at Carlos.

You knew what you were getting into when you agreed to that first date with Carlos last year. You know what you were signing up for. You knew all the judgement would be on you if/when you decided to go public. You knew Ferrari would have many things to say about your relationship, and they did, when you told them earlier in the season before it could potentially get ugly with a reveal from unsasvory sources.

You knew all of that and you went for it, anyway, because could you even call yourself a Norris if you didn't go after what you wanted? You knew what being with Carlos would bring but apparently, you were the only one.

After eleven amazing months together, Carlos got cold feet. You don't know how else to describe it. You had told your family after three months; he'd told his after just one. Everyone was happy for you. Your family loves Carlos, and the Sainz clan accepted you with open arms. You were so happy.

But as your relationship pushed a year, Carlos said you needed to talk, called you a distraction, subsequently hazardous for his line of work, and ended things.

Did you call him an emotionally stunted manchild before storming out of the cafe he asked to meet at? If you did, he surely deserved it.

A few weeks after that, you're where you are now, locked in a bedroom on a yacht while a party rages on several floors above. Carlos says he regrets breaking up with you, that he wanted to take back everything he said, but he already said it and that's how things are now.

You'll not be the girl he comes crawling back to whenever it's convenient for him. If going steady is a hazard for work, then an off again-on again situationship is definitely not OSHA-compliant. You refuse to lower yourself to being a doormat that Carlos wipes his feet on whenever he feels he has the time.

After a while of standing guard at the balcony door, Carlos makes a move to sit on the couch with you.

"No," you say.

He halts midstep.

"You can sit on the bed."

Slowly, as though giving you a chance to change your mind, Carlos sulks over to the bed and sits.

He's moving to Williams next year. He has only a handful of races left in rosso corsa. He doesn't know you're sitting on a job offer that could have you following him, a promotion to head strategist at the Oxfordshire team that you can't believe you're actually debating because of your standing with a man.

You've told no one of Williams's proposition. So, you really don't know why you open your mouth to tell Carlos of all people.

"Williams wants me as their head strategist."

He looks up, eyes bright, surprised but excited for you. "What? That is amazing."

"Yeah, I know it is," you say, glaring at him again. "I haven't accepted yet, though."

Carlos is quiet, then carefully says, "Because of me?"

"No," you say because it's just ridiculous for that to be the reason you're holding up contract negotiations, "Yes, because of you. Obviously. I don't want you thinking I'm following you. I'm not. I'm pursuing my career. So, I know that changes you being all regretful. I just want to clarify things before you hear about it from someone else.”

“Why would it change how I feel?”

“Because we’ll still be coworkers next season.”

“That changes it? What does it change?”

Carlos' accent (hot as fuck) and the way he doesn't always say things 100% correct (cute as fuck) are misleading for his actual understanding of the English language. So, you're really not sure what he's getting confused over.

He's leaving. You were supposed to be staying. No longer working together meant no distractions for him until you would meet up at a hotel after a shitty quali and he would fuck the shit out of you. Or something like that.

It'd feel good in the moment but you don't want him for just sex. You don't want casual. You don't want to be a convenient, low-maintenance, not-quite-official girlfriend. You won't do it. No matter how pretty he is.

And his plan to get you back was ruined now that you'd be moving to Williams for next season, anyway.

“I’d not be a distraction if I was staying at Ferrari. Now, we’ll both still be on the same team. Not convenient for you to still be in a toxic work environment, huh? So, you can cut the crap.”

“That has nothing to do with my regret."

"I won't be a casual fuck buddy who you can't stand to be around when it doesn't work for you."

"I never said that!"

He seems genuinely hurt by your implication but you won't fall for it, won't let it deter you.

"It's kind of implied. You know with the whole 'I have to focus on my driving' thing. Like, what the fuck were you doing for the rest of the time we were together? Nothing changed and you suddenly decided it was too much, then you want me back but I ruined that for you. You'll be seeing me next year, too, so don't even bother with the whole regret speech or whatever."

"I—," Carlos starts, then says nothing.

He can't seem to find the words.

"What? Nothing to say? You wanted to talk. Talk."

"If I am in a team with you or not," he says, slow, calculated, "It does not change that I regret what I said."

Carlos takes a second to think before continuing. That's where you two differ.

Carlos has always been incredibly intelligent. You knew he was gorgeous before you had ever met in person but his mind made him appeal even more to you when you first started working trackside last season. Long, intellectual conversations preceded him asking you out after his masterclass in Singapore.

You nearly started foaming at the mouth when he said "it's on purpose" to keeping your brother within DRS to hold off Mercedes. You were ready to jump his bones right then and there in the middle of the team celebration when he asked you to dinner before you flew back to England.

But he was a gentleman. (He didn't fuck you until after your second date, but it was a close thing that first night when you leaned over the center console to kiss him. You'd have ridden him right there in the front seat of that rental car if your idiot brother hadn't chosen then to walk by and make a scene. Kind of a mood killer.)

The two of you both found fascination in the other's way of thinking, Carlos' smooth logic and your chaotic brilliance. He is all thought and few words while you talk and talk until you find your solution.

You always found beauty in the contrast. You balance each other. Simultaneously alike and disimilar. He is someone you saw yourself building a life with. After nearly a year together, those are the kinds of thoughts you start to have about a partner.

"So, you regret it," you gather, "But do you still think I'm a distraction?"

"Of course, you are a distraction. I am in love with you. There is nothing more distracting than that."

You laugh, disbelieving. "You're in love with me but I'm distracting and you can't be with me? Why? Because you love racing more?"

"I was scared. I was stupid. I am stupid. I am."

"Self deprecation won't do you any favors. But, yeah, you are stupid. You're not making any sense."

"I was scared. You were everything I could think of. I thought I could not find a balance between you and racing. But without you, it is even worse. I want you as a distraction. I know that because I have lost you.”

“You haven’t,” you say before your brain even knows what you’re doing. “Not entirely, yet. Maybe… You’re not allowed to do this again. Ever.”

And you’re crying. Of course.

Carlos is at your side in record time, kneeling in front of you, taking immediate advantage of the crack in your defenses. “Never.”

“You can’t do shit like this. You can’t push me aside like I don’t matter. You can’t call me a distraction.”

“You are a distraction. In the best way.”

Unimpressed and wiping your tears, you say, “Wow. You’re such a poet.”

Carlos laughs thickly. “I love you.”

“Ugh, fuck off.”

You’re still wiping at your face. You didn’t cry when Carlos called it quits, refused to let him have any sort of hold over you when he pushed you aside but now, you’re crying. It’s in relief but you still feel your face getting hot from the embarrassment of it.

He knocks your hands aside to cup your cheeks. “You are the love of my life. I will do whatever it takes to fix what I broke.”

“S’not broken. Just bent. Or whatever the saying is. I don’t fucking care—just kiss me.”

Carlos’ “yes, ma’am” is muffled against your lips.

It’s only been three weeks (three and a half but who’s counting) since he last kissed you but it feels like an eternity.

It’s salty from your tears and wet, also from the tears but more from the way you let his tongue into your mouth after probably not enough time has passed. You don’t care. You just want him.

“I love you," you break the kiss to say. "Don't leave me."

"I won't."

"Say it back."

"I love you. I love you I love you I love you."

.

His words jumble between English and Spanish as he kisses down your body.

Your breath catches as he pulls your hips further down the cushion you're sat on. Stupid F1 driver muscles. You want to sink your teeth into his bicep, make him walk around with the bruise, a reminder of who he belongs to.

He slips his fingers into the waistband of your pants, looks up for permission. You lift your hips. You've missed what his big brown eyes look like when they're all dark with want.

He pulls your pants and underwear down and tosses them aside, tugging you even closer to the edge of the couch. Your legs part. He puts your knees on his shoulders then finally pushes his face between your thighs.

You let your head fall back as you sigh, probably sounding ridiculous but he's always been good at this.

He had you ride his face one time. He practically had to beg to get you to agree. There was a lot of him gripping onto you, arms wrapped around your thighs and hips to force you to stay in place. He'd kept you there until you couldn't stay upright or fight against his hold, coaxing multiple orgasms out of you with just his mouth.

Then, he'd fucked you until you came for a fifth time. (You tell a guy one time about how your last partner hadn't the patience to get more than one orgasm out of you, and he makes it his life's mission to get three or more every time you go at it. How terrible for you. Ha.)

He eats you out like a man starving, like he has something to prove. To be fair, he does but he's not going to be entirely back in your good graces just because he's helping you get off for the first time in three and a half weeks. This is just extra credit.

One of his hands finds yours. He tangles your fingers and holds your hand as he involves his free fingers in slipping past your entrance. You open up for him with obscene ease, legs falling apart even further.

He fucks you with a single finger slow, slow, slow while his tongue licks languidly at your clit.

"Carlos," you whine his name.

You don't need all the pleasure you already know he's more than capable of giving you. You just need to get off already.

"I will get you there, hermosa," he promises with a kiss to your inner thigh.

"Get there faster; I don't want my idiot brother thinking better of his insane plan and letting us out while you're nose-deep in my cunt."

Carlos huffs a laugh. You can feel the air against where you're wet. It makes you squirm.

Usually, Carlos would tell you to stay still and be patient but seems to think better of it this time. You would probably still do as he says, circumstance regardless, but he doesn't need to know that. He just presses his lips back to your pussy.

He sucks on the hardened little bundle of nerves at the joint of your labia just how he knows will make you go limp and needy. He pushes a second then a third finger into you, the stretch just that much more than you can manage with your own, smaller digits.

You could've gotten it with the neglected dildo that lives somewhere mostly forgotten in your closet. There was something that felt so final about bringing out the toy you haven't needed since that second date. Thankfully, you still don't need it. You should consider just pitching it, at this point.

You push your hand through Carlos' hair, brushing the ridiculously perfect locks off his forehead so you can watch his stupid, beautiful face as he goes down on you.

"You're so pretty like this, baby," you praise.

His dark eyes flicker up to you, exhaling against your exposed cunt and shifting his knees on the floor.

You're sure if he had a hand free, he'd be palming himself over his pants. He gets off on you getting off and praise goes straight to his dick. You've got this fantasy of making him come completely untouched but you might need to do actual research on that before it becomes a reality.

He sticks his tongue down with his fingers, lapping at your hole and spitting your wetness onto your clit just because it's hot. Like the way he's slobbering over you isn't enough to make the glide of his tongue over your clit smooth and delectable.

"Come on, baby. Don't tease. Not now."

Carlos makes this little displeased noise in the back on his throat.

Quickies aren't really in Carlos' sexual vocabulary. He occasionally likes it as rough and fast as the next dick-haver but he's more of a spread you open and make love to you for hours at a time kind of guy.

He took you to a secluded little cabana in Mallorca for a week during summer break specifically so you two could spend days on end doing nothing but loving on each other. Then, he took you to meet his family and you had to pretend like you hadn't spent the majority of the week prior with their golden child's dick or fingers or tongue inside of you.

Currently, you're just wanting to find relief without Lando or some other F1 driver walking in on you first.

"Carlos, baby—please."

Carlos likes when you play nice. When you're so desperate for it that your bossy exterior goes away. You tell yourself that you exploit this because your unending pride doesn't like the alternative that you really just are that desperate for it.

He finally starts to finger bang you properly. Combine that with the obscene slurping sounds he's making against your clit and the lack of action for nearly a month and no one could really blame you for not taking long to hit your high.

Heat curls and explodes in your gut and up your spine, back arching, lungs gasping, Carlos' name falling from your mouth as your thighs try to close around his head. He gets his elbows up to hold your legs open. His fingers keep fucking you through your orgasm. He pulls his other hand free of your grip to massage your clit with his thumb, kissing your thighs, pubes, stomach.

He captures your lips in a kiss while you're still riding it out. It's intense and leg-shaking after so long without, emotion-driven, which is the best kind but not worth it after knowing what the fear of losing him is like. You can hardly kiss him back, face pulled in pleausre, moans spilling past your lips that Carlos swallows unburdened.

You tuck your face into his shoulder as he drags it out just to the precipice of overstimulation. You tug him into you, arms around his shoulders, fingers tugging the hair at the base of his skull. He lets his fingers rest inside of you, rests that thumb against your clit so he can hold you back with one arm, at least.

You just breathe for a moment, composing yourself where he can't see your face. The worst may be over but the level of trust you'd built over months together would not be so easily reinstated. He'd have to work hard for that, much harder than a sinlge mind-blowing orgasm.

"Don't leave me," you say in a whisper. "You can't, okay?"

"I won't."

"Promise."

"I promise I will not leave you again. I am the most dumb man if I lose you another time. I will deserve it, then."

"Be smart, then. Like I know you have the capacity to be."

Carlos pulls his fingers out. He catches your shiver, still wrapped up in his one arm. He kisses your cheek before finding something to clean his hands with. You've pulled your pants back on when he's finished.

"Likelihood someone heard us?" you prompt.

"Heard you, you mean?"

You kick at him as he comes back over to you. "Watch it."

He tucks you against his side once he's sat. "Scale?"

"One to a hundred."

"90, at least."

You smack his chest. "Dick."

"You are very loud, mi amor. You talk so much, and you make such pretty noises."

"Don't insult me immediately after I've forgiven you."

You've not drawn away from him at all. In fact, you've tucked your feet up on the couch to curl into him fully.

Carlos knows this. He presses a kiss to your temple.

"I love you. I am sorry I am so stupid."

"I guess I've just got to have enough brains and beauty for the both of us."

"You have always."

You hide your smile in his chest. He holds your thigh when you put your legs across his lap. Now you've got him back, you want to be as close as physically possible. Whoever first said they want to be inside their partner's skin really gets it.

.

George Russell ends up getting sent to let you two out. Evidently, your brother fled the scene of the crime once the yacht returned to port in the early hours of the morning. He dumped the chore of opening Pandora's box on an innocnet bystander.

"I am so sorry—"

"Oh, clever," you say when you spot the poor Brit, "He sends an uninvolved party to let me out like I couldn't track him anywhere in the world. I've his trainer's phone number and Jon likes me more than him. I am going to beat his skinny little muppet ass. When I find him—"

You trip over the tangle of chairs that had been used to barricade the bedroom door from the outside.

Carlos catches your elbow.

"Amor, it is late," he says. "Sleep, first, hm?"

You relax into his hold a bit, a silent concession. It'll be easier to murder your little brother after a good night's sleep, anyway.

"So, are you two...?" George trails off.

You cut him a glare.

"Nothing. Never mind. Apologies."

He speeds around the two of you and off the boat.

"The 2019 rookies are all terrified of you."

"Good."

Carlos laughs. "I am excited to see what Alex is like with you next year."

You smile.

Next year, you'll still be working with Carlos. It'll be at a different team, a midfielder at best but at least Carlos will still be on the grid. He'll still find increasingly laughable excuses to be in engineering just to see you. He'll still come home to you, the same that you'll come home to him.

A future with Carlos is still in the cards. He'll be damned if he messes it up again, you know that much.

[ankoluvs]

Tell me when i said that and haven’t actually said otherwise.

And yeah, yeah, you’ll send the fucking links or stfu with trying so desperately to act like the idf aren’t rapists and invalidate their victims.

I mean it’s bad enough you refer to a a s/a victim as ‘him’ as if he’s just a pest to you. But you then look for ways to justify the idfs behavior.

You’re story seems heavily made up which is mad weird and sad. the least you could do is send the link to the video, but no! because it’s made up.

And i’ve sent links to others and i don’t know what you expect me to do, all you need to do is search up ‘human rights websites’ etc and they’ll show up.

Please don’t have a kid, they’ll die at the ripe age of two from your stupidity.

It’s so funny seeing pro-israelis try to defend Israel with the excuse of ‘Israel protecting themselves’. or that it’s ‘Not Israel’s fault because Hamas is hiding with civilians’ etc etc.

Like please. The USA has managed to kill !THREE! leaders of terrorist groups without killing tens of thousands of innocent people. Turkey has killed ISIS militants and hit targets without killing tens of thousands of people.

They also prove how they’re completely ignorant how violent Israel has been towards Palestine before. This has been going on for way longer than October 7th 2023. There is absolutely NO justification for what Israel is doing. If you support genocide simply say so.

[serendipitous-girl]

𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍 𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒐𝒈𝒏𝒊𝒛𝒆𝒔 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍

⊱✿⊰ summary: headcanons with bakugo and a black cat girl

⊱✿⊰ warnings: swearing, suggestive comments, fighting ig, idrk

⊱✿⊰ notes: i have had this request for like fifteen months lol but im finally doing it for my pookie's bday. Happy birthday ml 🫶 im posting it now so i dont forget lol

❀ he hates you at first sorry not sorry. bakugo just sees you as yet another one of those extras who happen to have an annoying tendency to fight with him. i feel like he might respect your tenacity but barely and he still hates your guts whoops

❀ on the topic of hatred, your other classmates half are jokingly shipping you and the other half are just wishing you two would stop fighting. mina is at the head of the shipping bandwagon especially after she read a book with rivals to lovers. todoroki might say he ships you guys only because he thinks it means he wants you two to get along lol

❀ your arguments would mostly be stupid shit like who rescued who, who did better on the assignment. you guys are rivals who also get into fistfights because why not.

❀ bakugo doesn't think much of your swearing problem because he's used to it by his mom. you're just another annoying person who happens to like using some naughty words all the time (him in girl form)

❀ i feel like the way you two get closer is kinda sad but also drama yay. basically mineta was being an S-class pervert and he was literally harassing you.

❀ and it made you uncomfortable so you started to fight back. bakugo doesn't find you until the aftermath, huddled in the corner of the dorm while trying to hide your tears

❀ he didn't know seeing someone cry could make his heart clench like that. But for some reason, seeing you all teary eyed and sad made him want to punch the living daylights out of whoever made you like that

❀ as awkwardly as he can, he tries to comfort you. His large hand patting your back, not saying anything since words have never been his forte. He was used to using anger to battle his sadness, he didn't know how to help someone succumb to it.

❀ you guys sit there in comfortable silence until you explain to bakugo what happened. he'd always hated the little brat but now he was wishing he had uraraka's powers so he could throw mineta into space. how was the creep still in the hero course?

❀ lets just say the nice day mineta looked more like a cranberry than a grape

❀ you guys aren't particularly close after that but he does tend to notice you more which means his respect for you goes up. you're in combat training and you beat deku? fuck yeah he likes you now. even if you don't hate deku like he does he still thought it was awesome seeing you beat the daylights out of him.

❀ the moment he realized he liked you was when he almost lost you. by now hanging out was pretty regular for the two of you, even if bakugo would rather die than admit that he sees you as a friend. and since you guys spent time together he was around for whenever you got crushes...and told him about it.

❀ most of the time he would shrug it off, especially since half of your crushes were fictional and why would he care? he's not jealous! however you started falling for a boy in class 2b which (for some reason) was a major no go for bakugo. why would you want to date a stupid extra when he was right in front of you

❀ despite what everyone says he isn't the most emotionally constipated. it takes awhile yeah but i imagine he started going to therapy during the course of the show so he started to understand what feelings went where and etc

and one thing was for certain: this feeling was love.

❀ he started being a massive asshole after that. he went right back to always arguing with you or ignoring you completely. he might understand his feelings but that doesn't mean he knows how to handle them

❀ he was so wrapped up in his angry emoness that he didn't know you had stopped talking to the boy from class 2b, forgetting him entirely. he also failed to notice the hurt looks you'd give bakugo before you snapped right back into your harsh comebacks.

❀ the reason you guys even talk it out is during a simulation where the both of you get stuck inside rubble. you were both exhausted, dehydrated, and heartbroken.

❀ you just couldn't help but ask, "why do you hate me?" which basically broke his heart into a million little pieces. he couldn't help the way he admitted to his feelings, the way he handed you his heart in hopes you'd keep it safe...and safe you did.

❀ if you two as rivals were bad you two dating is even worse. you guys are the ultimate power couple, able to tear anybody down with a few well placed sneers and snorts.

❀ everybody either loves or hates you guys. mina obviously loves you guys even if you two are constantly arguing still plus with the added of you two tag teaming one person. she loves when she manifests things.

❀ you guys still have that silly banter and with your tempers. but now you guys made up your arguments with kisses and cuddles

❀ you guys aren't allowed to get paired together for assignments because you are either bickering or making out. and aizawa is too tired to try to stop it.

lori © 2024. please don't copy, modify, or do anything weird with my writing! i like reblogs and comments but please be kind as this was my writing.

[dameronology]

complex (logan)

summary: honestly i was just listening to complex by katie macleod and i started typing and this is what happened, it's only 800 words but hey-ho.

warnings: arguments, so much swearing, logan is kind of a dick

Your residual anger hung thick in the air like heat in the summer.

Your apartment was full of signs—little reminders of your argument, tiny clues to point to the hurt in your chest. The blankets on the sofa were still tangled from where Logan had slept there last night. There were two empty bottles of whisky beside a smashed plate on the coffee table, matched with angry claw marks where he'd made the wooden structure his victim. Most obviously, you and the man you loved stood on each end of the room and the argument, chests heaving from shouting and fists balled up with rage. 

"I fucking hate you," you declared.

"No, you don't," Logan deadpanned, "you hate me right now, but really, you love me."

"Don't," you paused, taking a deep breath, "don't tell me how to feel."

"But you're allowed to tell me how to feel, huh?" he challenged.

There was another strangled sigh in your mouth. You couldn't keep sighing. You needed to come up with something new. Yelling had never been your thing. Maybe Logan's, but not yours. He hadn't even yelled for this entire fight. There had been heated exchanges, sure, but even in his most frustrated moments, he hadn't dared raise his voice. He had that much self-control.

"I can't look at you," your eyes fell to the floor.

Logan let out a snort. "Can't look at me, huh? Can't look me in the eye?"

This whole thing had started because the furry fucking moron had said something stupid. Then, he'd made it even worse when you'd pointed it out. It was like Logan had brought himself a proverbial shovel and was rewarding himself by digging a hole. He was ten feet down, and he couldn't see anything, save if he looked up and saw you glancing down at him with bleary eyes in his self-sustained grave. You could have reached down your hand to help him out but it was too far.

"Fuck. You."

Your chest heaved as you shoved past him, shoulders hitting his with a thud. Logan had barely even processed what had happened before the bedroom door slammed in his face. The force caused a picture on the shelf beside it to fall, the glass smashing into three separate pieces. He leant down to pick it up, turning the frame over. It was a picture of you at Coney Island two years ago; the wind was blowing your hair back, faced pressed to Logan's as he scowled. They were sweeter times.

Logan glanced up at the ceiling - or the sky, whatever the closest thing is.

"Whoever the fuck is up, that's not fucking funny."

He stopped at the door.

To say his heart broke when he heard you crying on the other side would be an understatement. There was a lot of sounds that Logan hated; his ring tone, his alarm sound in the morning, Wade Wilson's voice...but above all, the sound of you crying felt like a punch to the throat. It was even worse for him to know that he was the one who caused it.

Logan didn't stop before he opened the door. He booted it, body crossing the room in seconds to meet you at the bed. You were curled up, hugging his pillow to your chest and crying into yours.

He fell to his knees beside you, warm hands pulling your arms away from your face and towards him instead. A pair of strong arms came to wrap around you and in seconds, you were pressed to his chest.

"Oh, sweetheart," he murmured, "don't cry. Please don't cry. Punch me, slap me, fuckin' kill me if you want but please don't cry."

A little sob escaped your throat. "You're so frustrating."

"I know," Logan gave you a small smile, "christ, I know. And I am so fucking sorry."

He re-centred you on the bed, organising the pillows so that they were behind you. The mattress dipped beside you as he climbed under the covers, pulling you back into his side. You were still glaring at him, still refusing to throw you a ladder down his special grave.

"I let my anger get the best of me sometimes," Logan said, "maybe I don't shout at you or get angry the way I do at other people, but it...it manifests in more fucked up ways, I think. I like arguing. I love riling people up. I don't like doing that to you, though."

"You did, though."

"I know, sweetheart, I know," he murmured. "I'm trying my best. I know my best is absolute bullshit but...I am trying."

You tangled your fingers with his, giving his hand a squeeze. "I know. It's okay if you want to keep trying."

Logan softly smiled, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "I love you."

"I love you too."

[hanjiwuver]

Could you maybe do one of seungmin getting mad at you in public for wearing revealing clothes, ty!

Seungmin Drabble #1

*~Disobeying Dom Seungmin~*

pairing: hard dom!seungmin x sub!reader

warnings: MEANIE PANTS SEUNG! no smut but very suggestive, lots of degredation, reader is called a bitch, i think thats it.

note: personally…i could never disobey him but thats just me🐶 good luck with that tho!

heres ur order!! smut under the cut!!!!!!!!!!!

it was going to be a perfect night. your boyfriend seungmin finally got reservations for that fancy, expensive diner you’ve been dying to go to.

the only problem was..you were running a little late.

you took a nice, long shower beforehand, using all the scents you know he loves on you. laying out three different dresses on your bed, you quickly tried to decide which one would be the best fit for tonight’s important date.

one was grey, and wrapped your body elegantly with silk fabric. the second was light pink, with a high cut waist and a frilly bottom, seungmin loves that one. and the third…oh.

seungmin hates this dress. he specifically told you not to wear it in public anymore. its was a black, hollow out dress with sheer fabric and strings where there wasn’t your boobs or your ass showing. nothing different than a stripper dress.

now, you know seungmin better than anyone. and when he says he hates that dress, its not because its ugly in any way, shape, or form. no. the way you look in that dress could make even him fall to his knees for you.

it’s because of the attention it brings to HIS precious girl. seungmin isn’t an insecure man either, he obviously wants to show you off on his arm when you get all dolled up for him, but with THAT dress? you couldn’t even get a few feet away from him without being approached or even made a pass at.

he knows you would never leave him for another guy, he just can’t stand people sizing up his pretty little prey like wild beasts. so, you aren’t allowed to wear it per his rules, fine. but honestly, you’ve always wondered what would happen if you disobeyed him.

so..maybe you wore the dress anyway..how bad could this go, right? now the problem was, how to get there.

normally he would pick you up in his car, but you know for a fact he would make you change immediately. so that was out. maybe you could just text him?

minnieeee?

hi, sweet baby🩷 you ready to be picked up?

uhhh

hm?

actually min, can i drive myself and meet you there? i have a suprise for you.

uh oh.

WDYM UH OH

that can’t be good. you’re scaring me💀

ITS JUST A SUPRISE OKAY

…its the dress isn’t it?

..no actually! its a secret so you’ll know when i get there so i actually have to go now and walk my fish see you soon love you bye-

we’ll see.

your nerves are alight as you pull into the parking lot, biting your lip in fear and arousal at how seungmin will deal with you. you’ve never disobeyed him before, always wanting to recieve his sparing praise and not cause a fuss.

your heels click against the floor as you step into the new diner, looking like the most expensive thing there. the confidence you’re radiating is only surface level though, the truth is, if you had a tail right now it would be tightly tucked between your legs.

when the host tells you where seungmin is sitting, you hesitantly make your way over. he is indeed there, he smiles at you sweetly before looking down at that dress. that stupid fucking dress.

he looks back up into your eyes with a dissapointed, mean glare in his. if you were at home, that look would have you begging for forgiveness. you immediately look down, shying away from his gaze as you put your purse down and bow slightly at him.

“hey, seungmin..”

“sit down.”

the demand has you plopping down in your seat without hesitation. his tone is clear and calm, but equally cold.

“i thought i told you not to wear that dress. hm? or are you just too dumb and slutty to remember my rules?

oh. his harsh words make your thighs rub together, still refusing to meet his eyes.

“m’sorry..”

“sorry what.”

“so..so sorry, sir.”

“look at you. i do all these nice things for you, give you all my attention and look where it gets me. is my attention not enough? need it from the other manwhores here? i think you’re just too much of a slut to be thankful.”

his words have bite, making you equally feel bad for disobeying and almost drool from the degradation.

“yes sir, im a slut, sir.”

“i know you are.”

“just..wanted to see what you’d do..”

“want a punishment? is that what the dumb whore wants? hm?”

“um..depends what it is?”

“you don’t get to choose, stupid.”

“…well, what are you gonna do then?”

seungmin leans forward, resting his elbows on the table and looking at you with an amused expression. only this time do you meet his gaze, looking up at him through your lashes expectantly. seungmin scoffs.

“don’t fucking look at me.”

your eyes shoot down, just listening to him obediently. he leans forward to whisper in your ear.

“..when we get home, im ripping that slutty stripper dress off of you for good this time. then, im gonna muzzle you and make you beg for me to pound that slutty pussy like a good bitch. then lastly..you’re writing lines, sweetheart.”

sorry for ending it there..u just look so cute when ur teased<3 order again soon!🐶

[lost-romantique]

One thing that really bugged me about that Hate Party was how much Blitz was made out to be this monster that just dicked on people for "loving" him.

"Blitz. There is a crowd full of people here, who cared so much, they'd throw an entire fucking party about hating you, every year! Do you know how much you have to care to do something as stupid as that?" - Stolas

I'm going to be blunt, these people didn't love Blitz. They loved the mask he puts on, that bravado, that charismatic smile he uses to get what he wants.

We can't assume that Blitz self-destructed in everyone of those relationships, a lot? Yeah. All of them? Fuck no.

I honestly assume most of these relationships were one night stands and whatnot.

And that's simply because of the fact that Blitz walks into the Hate Party and passes by several people with only the incubus giving him looks, simply because he shoved him.

But like, nobody is making a scene or a huge ruckus, even though Blitzo Buckzo- Hell's Heartbreaker is out in the open to a Hate Party he definitely was not invited to.

Like, why is no one after him? Why is no one calling him out at this moment? It isn't hard to notice Blitz, FFS the guy has massive fucking horns on his head, he shouldn't be that hard to pick out from the crowd.

And then there's Dennis who simply has no reason to be there because the only thing Blitz did was brush him away for having a shitty name.

We as the audience knows that the Hate Party was used as a plot device to get Blitz to understand that self-sabotaging relationships in fear of you or them getting hurt is a shitty thing to do.

I also fear it's a plot device that is used to manipulate Stolas into thinking that Blitz is even worse of a guy than he actually is. That Hate Party is not a healthy environment for a guy like Stolas who has as much self-awareness as a potted plant.

However, I digress, Blitz doesn't owe anybody his love or his affections. And while he shouldn't go around hurting people the way he does, I personally feel he shouldn't get attacked just because he might not reciprocate someone's romantic feelings.

How many times do you think Blitz had to use his body to get what he needed?

Not what he wanted. Not pleasure. What he needed to get where he is.

Business license. Office lease. Apartment in Pride. Even his fuckin van.

All things that Imps are less likely to own/have because they are lower on the hierarchy. All things that even Millie was in disbelief and said she "Didn't deserve".

"I have used too much of my time, energy, and holes".

We think this obviously refers to Stolas and the arrangement. But technically... he says this before their "Murder Family" mission. Before the arrangement is even set up. They only fucked once and he was going to take the book anyway.

So that begs the question. Who else has he had to fuck JUST to get what he NEEDS?

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Chapter 26 - I've Loved Everything About You That Hurts

Series Masterlist

Author's Note: They’re insane because I’ll try to write a chapter with no sex and they end up fucking, and then I try to do the sex in less words and now it’s emotional.

Chapter Title from G.I.N.A.S.F.S by Fall Out Boy

Word Count: 25k

Chapter Summary/Warnings: The team drives to DC for a meeting with Singer. Usual warnings, plus some extra smut and average No Love Lost angst.

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, canon divergence, enemies to friends to lovers, canon divergence, much smut (p in v, oral f receiving, fingering, squirting) fluff, emotional angst, established relationship

Read on A03!

Chapter 25 - Chapter 27

Ben was not the brains. And he was fucking fine with that. He was the muscle, and he was goddamn good at it. Because while She was stronger than he was—She was stronger and brighter and more vital than the fucking sun—she shouldn’t have blood on her hands. Her hands weren’t fucking meant to be covered in blood. They were meant to tap in a smooth, unyielding pattern against every surface, and turn the pages of books, and hold Ben’s face as she smiled at him. She was meant to fucking smile, and only be near blood to sit with Ben as he washed it off himself.

She kept letting it stain her skin. She kept taking fucking bullets meant for others and covering herself in the mud that pussies like Homelander pushed her into. And that’s what Ben was here for. He was now certain that he wasn’t here for fame or glory or money, he was here to move in perfect fucking time with the woman he loved. To listen to Her giggle and mumble and snort, and give her the fucking world. To dance with Her in the kitchen, and joke with her about fucking everything, and keep his arm around her during dinner as She gave him a secret look that meant I love you, Benjamin, you grump. He was supposed to watch baseball as She frowned at the screen, turning his hand over in hers as she tried to follow the game. He was meant to hold onto the easier, better things—the warm, well-fueled light that inflated in his chest when Ryan hugged at him after training, or the chuckle he couldn’t stop from escaping his body when She pouted at him about something stupid, or the way She moaned when he fucked her into the mattress—and hack and claw his way through the worse parts.

Ben was meant to be the only person in the fucking world who did the dirty work for Her. She’d done enough, and even though he believed her more and more when she told him I’m okay, Ben would do everything in his fucking power to keep her okay. He knew he couldn’t stop Her from running into traffic, because she was fast and stubborn and still didn’t care if She got hit. But he’d jump in front of the oncoming car, and continue to make her understand that he fucking cared. Ben would never fucking recover if She got hit. And if all he could do was tell Her I fucking love you, stop thinking you’re weak and expendable when I fucking love you and adore you and need you, and then run into traffic with Her, he’d do it. Ben was meant to fucking defend Her from everything that haunted her at night, and he understood that now. That he’d never chase away the ghosts, and She’d never chase away his, but they could really easily fucking kill them together. If they were together, those fucking pussy ghosts didn’t stand a goddamn chance. 

So Ben was the muscle, in order to make sure that She didn’t have to be. It was another thing for him to do for Her, when She’d made everything so much more beautiful just by fucking existing near him, and fixing all his messes, and loving him. Still somehow fucking loving him, because Ben was almost goddamn certain some cosmic entity had made a clerical error and sent him the most perfect woman in history, instead of leaving him alone. Ben thought he was supposed to be, mostly, alone. Making empty promises to women he knew he didn’t really want, and to keep fucking moving until it was enough.

It hadn’t been enough. It had never been fucking enough. 

But he’d rested for one goddamn second—his head held against Her body, the most awful aching fucking pain he’d ever goddamn felt consuming him like a storm��and it had been good. She’d hummed to him like she loved him, and She fucking did, and stayed. He’d rested, and it had been enough. 

And now he knew that the fantasy he’d created—where life was so fucking happy because She was happy—wasn’t something he’d allow to be a fantasy. He couldn’t control anything about Her, but he could keep her happy. And if Her nightmares were of blood, he’d never let her see fucking blood again. He’d hide everything that was blue—if they had a son, the kid would have to just fucking deal with green—and shoot out whatever fucking ceiling fans made her cry. He’d drive her everywhere, half because he was over a hundred and had never seen someone speed like She did, and half because she was afraid of heights, and shouldn’t have to use a single goddamn plane. He’d yell at whoever was in charge of bridges until they built one to Rome, and the rest of their fucking lives would be happy.

That was a life he wanted to live. Where he was resting with Her, and they were both happy. And Ben would fucking choke on blood and dirt and mud until it was a reality. 

Which is why he was losing his fucking mind as they entered that part of this war where it wasn’t about muscle anymore. It was about careful moves and well chosen words, and it was the only goddamn battle Ben couldn’t fight for Her. He wasn’t fucking stupid, but he wasn’t even fucking close to understanding whatever the hell went on in Her perfect, clever, insufferably brilliant brain. He knew how She thought—because he knew Her and loved Her and cared for Her—so when something happened that made her eyes grow glazed and her breathing become mechanical, Ben knew he had to hold her until she stopped thinking the only stupid thoughts she was capable of thinking.

That she was bad, when she was actually the only truly good thing in the world. 

That she was weak, when she fucking wasn’t. 

That she didn’t matter, when she mattered more than fucking anything, and sometimes it stabbed him deep in his arteries that she still didn’t get that. 

Ben knew how to chase those thoughts away. He was smart enough to know how to worship and tend to her, and to know when she just needed him at her side.

But Christ, he wasn’t smart enough for this shit. For the CIA and Singer and Edgar and Sage messes. This was Her territory. And Ben could stand at her side, but that was the only fucking way he could help, and it was driving him out of his goddamn mind.

What was worse, though, was that She was fucking confused. And that’s how Ben knew they were fucked.

Because not a single goddamn person could figure out what the fuck the keys were for. 

As they’d left the safe house, Neuman had stopped them. In reality, Neuman had stopped Her and Ben had simply fucking refused to leave them alone. He’d received several irritated glares from Neuman, but She’d moved her free hand to hold Ben’s forearm—in a silent request to keep his hand in Her’s, to stay at her side all the goddamn time—so Ben had stood tall and proud next to her, keeping her safe. Just by being there, like She’d told him to. Neuman could look fucking pissed at him all she wanted, Ben wasn’t going anywhere.

“You were at Red River,” Neuman had watched them carefully, arms crossed as she blocked their way down the stairs. “Did you get it?” 

There had been a pause as She examined Neuman, before finally nodding, her tone flat and  bored. “Yeah, we did. We’ll get it to Edgar-“ 

“What is it?” 

She’d blinked at Neuman. “Does it matter?” 

“Of course it matters,” Neuman had said Her name with an eye roll, and Ben had felt something bloody and zealous tense in his body. “Edgar raised me to be a lot smarter than just blindly trusting him, so I want to know what it is.” 

“And if I don’t tell you?” 

“Oh, come on.” Neuman’s voice had been vaguely amused, giving Her a flat look. “We both know you’re going to tell me. You trust me enough to bring Ashley here, and whatever it is I bet you’re debating whether or not you should give it to Edgar. I can help you decide.”

Ben hadn’t been debating shit. It was keys. Who gave a fuck about keys. As far as he had known, they’d toss the keys to Edgar, settling the debt, and figure out what the fuck to do with the V.

And that was another fucking reason why She was the brains. She’d studied Neuman—fingers tapping on Ben’s arm with lips pulled between her teeth—and found a conclusion that satisfied her enough to reach into Ben’s pocket and pull out the keys, holding them up for Neuman to see.

“Keys.” She’d jingled them with a shrug. “Got an idea what they’re to?”

Neuman hadn’t. Neuman had just looked fucking confused, and helped with goddamn nothing. Neuman had stared at the keys, bluntly stated that she didn’t know what they could possibly unlock, all of Edgar’s property assets were seized and all of Vought’s buildings used electronic locks, and suggested they figure out what they were for before giving them to Edgar. And—based on Her drawn, too-neutral face and the spark of indigence in her eyes—She’d already known all that, and had no intention of giving Edgar a goddamn thing until they knew what the hell was going on.

And now they were even more goddamn late to get back to the compound, and make the drive to DC. She’d volunteered to drive them back, and Ben, Hughie, and Kimiko had exchanged silent looks of not a fucking chance in hell. 

“I’ll be safe-“ 

Ben had drawled Her name, cutting off her protests as Hughie and Kimiko moved to the front of the car. “You will not be fucking safe. You’re worse than Butcher, and if you wreck his car we’re going to have to deal with his bitching for the rest of our goddamn lives.” 

“But-“ 

He’d tugged Her into the back seat, holding her half on his lap and kissing her pretty, pouting mouth until she relaxed in his arms. We’re going to be fucking fine. If Singer gets all goddamn pissed about us being late, he can shove it in his dick hole. 

A small smile had played on her lips, still pressed against Ben’s. Gross.

Her heartbeat had remained steady under Ben’s hands for the rest of the—perfectly fucking legal and safe—drive, and when they’d stepped off the elevator they’d been greeted by MM’s assessing glare and scowl.

“What the hell took you so long.” 

“Um,” Hughie had glanced back to Her—tucked under Ben’s arm—with a stutter of Her name and pallid face. “Do you want to-“ 

“You know what,” MM had run a hand over his face, shaking his head. “I don’t care. Kimiko, you and Frenchie are holding down the fort with Ryan. You three,” he’d turned his glare to Her, Ben, and Hughie. “Get ten minutes to pack. We’re rolling out in fifteen no matter who the fuck is in the limo.”

She’d blinked. “The limo-“ 

“Van’s still scrapped,” MM had muttered. “And we can’t fit six grown ass adults in a minivan or Butcher’s car. We’re renting a limo.”

Ben had no complaints about that. He didn’t have to wear a damn seatbelt in a limo, and it was a very opportune and appropriate place to hold Her in his lap as they drove without groans and pointed glares from their prude fucking team. If a life of luxury had taught him anything, it was that limos were meant to hold beautiful women, and he’d be fucking damned if he didn’t hold his beautiful woman—the most beautiful, perfect fucking woman who he fucking loved—when he was given the opportunity. So he’d let Her pull them back to their apartment, changing as she stuffed their shit into a suitcase, and taken over when her heartbeat became too fucking fast and her glare at their clothing became almost violent.

“I’ve got it,” Ben had walked up behind Her, wrapping his arms over Her shoulders and kissing Her neck until she let out a breath that didn’t sound fucking mechanical. “Don’t lose your damn mind, Sunshine, I can fucking pack.”

She’d nodded slowly, tilting her head back to meet his eyes. “Thank you.” 

“Don’t,” he’d muttered, leaning down to kiss under Her jaw, and felt something light and perfectly fucking mind-numbing wrap around his brain like a crown as she made a high, breathy sound. “Go get changed, darling.” 

She’d let Ben guide her to the dresser, and begun to hum under her breath as she’d changed.

“Rainbow Connection.” He’d grunted as she’d returned to his side, hanging off Ben’s arms as She surveyed his packing job.

Her smile had been all content, easy joy, and Ben whole fucking heart had skipped. Then she’d started to actually fucking sing, and he’d genuinely considered just letting the team leave without them. Her voice was like honey and summer rain and something peaceful and strong that Ben hadn’t heard before Her, and never wanted to stop hearing for the rest of his fucking life. The only thing that kept him from staying here, where She was safe and happy and the whole goddamn world was just color and light and her perfect fucking smile, was that she’d kick his fucking ass if they missed this meeting.

They’d had five more minutes, though. And that was more than enough time for Ben to spin Her around until she was dizzy and giggling, swaying in his arms to the instruments that weren’t really there as She sang, looking at him with such infinite and impossibly fucking ceaseless love.

This was the fucking shit worth fighting for. This was where Ben was goddamn supposed to be. And even as he’d kept his arm over Her shoulder—letting Her drag the suitcase behind them and grabbing his shield before they left the apartment—Ben didn’t fucking want to go. He wanted to stay right here, and let this ungrateful world that kept fucking hurting Her crumble.

But She wouldn’t let that happen, and part of why Ben loved Her—there were countless fucking reasons, and the world would probably be swallowed by the Sun before he’d finished naming them all—was because she loved fucking everything. She had a goddamn unfathomable amount of love to hold in Her body, and most of it might be for Ben, but it still spilled into everywhere that Ben could see. Music sounded better, and jokes were funnier, and water quenched his thirst faster when she was around. The only thing Ben remained at her side was hungry. For more of this fucking beauty, and whatever bit of love She’d spare for him. And as long as She kept loving the world, he’d defend it for her. If Ben had a goddamn say in anything, the world wouldn’t fall to ruin until She told him to burn it.

And She wouldn’t. So Ben had to kiss Her head and mutter that he loved Her—just in case she hadn’t heard him the million other times he’d said it—and stay watchful and dependent at her side. Walk with her to the elevator, out to the parking lot, and over to a sleek, black limo that already had the engine fucking running.

“Bout fucking time,” Butcher had grunted, jerking his head to the limo doors as they approached. “We were two bleedin seconds from leavin you twats behind. I’m drivin, which means I’m in fuckin charge, and that means no hanky panky in my bloody limo.”

She’d wrinkled Her nose as Ben opened the door. “Hanky Panky? What are you, a fucking grandmother? You sound older than he does.” 

Butcher had scoffed as She’d bumped Ben’s shoulder. “Shut it, Love, least I know how fuckin wifi works.” 

“I know how wifi works,” Ben had grumbled into Her ear as Butcher turned away. “You put in the numbers and the radio shows you the internet.”

“That’s,” She’d paused, tilting Her head as Ben pulled her into the limo. “Not wrong. Good work, Pretty Boy.”

He’d grunted, shifting them until She was on his lap, not sparing a goddamn glance to the rest of the team. “I didn’t fucking miss the old shit, brat. I’m not-“ 

“Fucking old,” She’d grinned at him, voice dropping into that dog shit impression of Ben that She’d only gotten worse at. “You know better than any damn pussy fucker, Sunshine, that I am not old.” 

He’d rolled his eyes, kissing at the base of Her neck, and MM had let out a very loud cough that almost made Ben bash his brains in, because it caused Her beautiful, perfect face to twist away from him.

“Sorry, MM-“

MM had cut Her off with a heavy, almost pained sigh. “It isn’t that shit. I mean, we’d all really appreciate if you toned it the fuck down for the drive, but I’ve given up on trying to stop you motherfuckers from humping like dogs in heat all the goddamn time.”

She’d flushed, and Ben had taken over. “The fuck do you want then-“

“The Cornucopia.” MM had looked between Ben and Her and Hughie with a raised brow. “What the hell is it.”

She’d reached into her jacket pocket, pulled out the keys, and tossed them across the limo to MM. He’d blinked at Her, she’d explained Red River as Ben added some very fucking helpful nods and Hughie jumped in with small, stupid details that didn’t seem like they mattered, but She’d thanked him for anyways. 

And now, after a whole goddamn hour of sitting in the limo, they’d made no progress in figuring out what the fuck to do with the keys. Everyone had coughed up fifty dollars to Annie for Her bet of any item that’s not a bucket—Annie had forgiven Her debt, and Ben had taken Annie’s dish duty for two fucking months to make up for his own—and they’d passed them around the group for everyone to examine like they’d suddenly fucking have Vought Sex Dungeon engraved on the side.

“Maybe they’re to a storage unit?” Annie looked around the group, fidgeting with the keys in her hands, and MM shook his head.

“No, they’d have a label on them. And then we’d have to worry about-“

“What the fuck is in the storage unit.” She mumbled, leaning Her head back onto Ben’s shoulder. “I mean, no matter what those keys probably lead to the actual Cornucopia. It can’t just be keys.”

“But it’s different, right?” Hughie leaned forwards as he spoke, arms on his knees. “If it’s a storage unit, or a box, or, like, a whole building? And it matters that they’re keys, I mean that sort of, um, narrows it down.”

Ben frowned, opening his mouth to ask Hughie how the fuck that narrowed a goddamn thing down, when She squeeze his arm over her stomach.

A lot of Vought buildings don’t use physical keys, they use keycards. And those keys don’t look old, so it’s not a warehouse that just hasn’t been modernized.

Ben reached his hand up to tilt Her head back, moving her full attention from Hughie to him. What the fuck do you think it is.

I don’t know. She sighed, pulling Ben’s arms around her a little tighter. I mean, I have guesses, but-

What are they.

Ben could see Her teeth as they tugged at her lower lip, her fingers tapping against the back of his hand. They’re just theories, and none of them are concrete-

He grunted Her name in his head. Tell me your fucking theories.

They don’t-

If you say matter, I’ll crash the fucking car.

Grumpy. She gave him a fake pout, and Ben hauled her a little further up his chest, kissing the crook of Her neck.

Tell me. I won’t interrupt you, and you can talk them out. That always fucking helps you. 

Her fingers stilled against him, and when Ben pulled back she was watching him with something so gentle and adoring in her eyes it nearly fucking knocked him out. He could feel the full fucking force of Her love, crashing into his body and making everything so good. There was a soft smile playing on Her face, and Ben didn’t understand it. That was the smile she gave him when he said something supportive to Ryan, or grumbled an agreement with Butcher, or exchanged short, curt nods with MM. It was the smile She gave him when he made her pancakes, or proved he’d been listening to Her rant about nothing, or she caught him humming one of her songs in the shower, and none of his scowling or protests could deter her teasing.

I love you, Benjamin. Her voice was almost whispering in his head, and she reached up to trace the lines of his face. I really love you.

I fucking know that-

No, you don’t. She brushed hair from Ben’s eyes, and let out a small sigh. I love you so, so much. I love you, Ben. I really fucking love you.

Something felt almost fucking radiant in Ben’s body. It wasn’t the nuke, because that felt violent and hateful and still fucking painful, even within Ben’s control. This was comfortable and open and so fucking painfully glorious it might drive him mad. It was so goddamn strange, and easy, and he’d felt it before but not quite like this. This felt like when he’d rested against Her, but without any of the pain or the lump of failure in his throat. So—though he still didn’t fully fucking understand what she meant, Ben did know She loved him and never fucking doubted it—he nodded, and dropped his face back to her neck. I love you too, Sunshine. Talk.

It could be an apartment or house that the feds missed. It’s likely Edgar’s and not Vought’s, because if it’s important enough to hide Vought would’ve already taken it. Sage would’ve taken it. Maybe it’s an incredibly well-kept secret, and Sage is looking for it, and that’s why Edgar wants it now. But if it’s that, it’s probably not a house, because what would Sage need with a house. I don’t think it’s going to be something small, because Cornucopia implies plenty, and Edgar isn’t someone who misuses words. My bet is on a warehouse that Edgar’s keeping a lot of shit in. Vanessa seemed worried about what we’d do with it, which makes me think it’s something dangerous. She turned Her head, resting it against Ben’s. But that’s all I have.

Ben rolled his eyes. Still a fuck ton more than everyone else.

Shut up. She whacked Ben’s arm lightly, and he could feel her smile brushing against his forehead. What’s your bet.

My money is on your fucking money, darling.

That’s very sweet, but not the slightest bit helpful.

Tough shit, I’m not changing my answer. Ben nipped at Her slightly, smirking at the small squeak that left her lips. You’re the smartest one here by a damn mile. Money on you is safe fucking money.

Love has made you stupid, Benjamin.

No. He drew back up, his grin unrestrained as he took in Her perfect, pretty face, and her sharp, amused eyes, and all Her fucking love and adoration for, and knew that all of it was fucking his. Ben got to have this. He loved Her like she deserved, so he got to be the one she looked at with a smile and watched like he was everything. Love has made me smart as fuck. Which is why I know to put money on you, beautiful. Because you’re always fucking right.

They were so fucking close, Ben’s breath passing into her mouth, and Christ, She was going to kill him. Her lips had parted slightly, her hands over Ben’s arms—holding them in their rightful place against Her—gripping him like she was going to fall down, and She wanted him. Her thighs were rubbing for friction against his body, and her heartbeat had picked up, and Ben was going to fuck Her in the back of the limo. Everyone else was just going to have to suck it the fuck up, because She fucking wanted Ben and he wasn’t capable of denying her anything. 

Then MM said Her name, and Ben almost bit through this tongue at the way She squirmed above him and made his cock jump, and the way she was still holding onto him, and the fucking smell and feel of Her above him, and Christ he needed to fuck her-

“Catch,” MM grunted, and Ben grabbed the keys flying through the air before She even had time to react. “That wasn’t mean for you-“ 

“Shove it up your ass, MM.” Ben tucked the keys into Her pocket, holding MM’s glare. “What do you want.”

She pinched Ben’s arm. Rude, Benjamin-

He shouldn’t just fucking throw shit at you-

You throw things at me all the time- 

No, I don’t, you throw shit at me all the damn time, because you’re fucking mean to me- 

You’re invincible, Pretty Boy, I think you’ll survive some paper-

MM let out a loud, overdramatic cough. “If you can listen to me for five minutes, I’ll let you dumbasses brain-fuck each other all you want. Think you can make it five fucking minutes?”

Ben had no interest in making it five minutes, and She didn’t either. He’d shifted against Her, pressing himself into her ass, and her breath had hitched as her heart began to stumble in her chest. But She was too fucking kind and good and perfect, so She nodded, and MM continued. 

“You have to keep those on you,” he said, voice firm and jaw set. “And no making any moves with them until we’re all on board, this could be dangerous. That goes for everyone!” MM raised his voice, glare turning to the front of the limo. “That means you, motherfucker. No stealing the keys and going all vigilante!”

Butcher snorted from the front. “I ain’t the one for you to worry about, Mate. If anyone’s goin fuckin rogue, it’s Bonnie and Clyde over there.” 

“We’re not going to go rogue, Butcher.” She flipped off the divider between them and Butcher, a pretty glower on her face. “And if you try to steal the keys, I’ll burn your face off.”

“Fuckin shame, that’s my money maker-“ 

“Can we please not kill each other when there’s still two hours left of the drive?” Hughie had gone all fucking puppy-dog eyed—looking between Her and Butcher’s back like a whining child—and She gave him an apologetic smile. 

“Sorry, Hughie.” She turned back to MM, and She needed to stop wiggling around on Ben’s lap or he’d go fucking insane. “Is that it?” 

When MM nodded, She twisted back around, dropping Her head into Ben’s chest, and sighed. Ben let Her stay there as Hughie, Annie, and MM trailed off into a conversation he wasn’t paying attention to, tangling his fingers in Her hair and kneading at her skin. Her heartbeat was a soft, even hum in Her chest, and he didn’t need to feel Her fingers tapping on his back or hear the chew of her tongue to know She was thinking. He didn’t push it—waiting for Her to speak first—because She fit naturally against him, and nothing in him felt wrong, so She was okay. Just fucking thinking.

Benjamin? 

He hummed Her name back, between their heads, and she exhaled against him. 

We didn’t tell them about the V. The vial of it we found with the keys. 

Ben paused, glancing over at their team. Do you want to.

I don’t know. I, Her arms around him tightened, and She looked up, meeting Ben’s eyes with a frown. I don’t want to give it to Edgar. I don’t trust whatever intentions he has with it. But I don’t want to make more supes. It’s fighting fire with fire, and it’s not- She cut herself off, eyes roaming Ben’s face like she’d find an answer there. It’s not fair.

None of this is fair- 

I know, She sat up a little, hands moving to cup Ben’s jaw. I know this isn’t about fair. But it’s still not fucking fair. I know you asked for this, for the V, but I didn’t. No one else did. And that’s so fucking unfair. It’s so unfair, Ben, and I don’t, I mean. She took a long breath. You remember how much it hurt, I can’t do that to someone. Even for the mission.

He began to trace patterns on Her waist, studying her almost glossy, pleading eyes. She wasn’t spiraling—Her heartbeat was too steady—but she looked lost. Unsure and so fucking tired that it made Ben’s whole head heavy. 

And he needed to help. Ben needed to make this fucking better for Her, whatever it goddamn took.

Do you know why I volunteered for the Vought trials.

She paused, tilting her head at him. To impress your dad, Butcher told me before we woke you up.

Yeah. Ben let out a dry chuckle, holding Her gaze. Did the cockfuck tell you if it worked?

He said it didn’t. Her fingers began to play with the hair of Ben’s beard as She frowned at him. Why?

Because I did this shit to myself, I made myself Soldier Boy, and it didn’t mean a goddamn thing. Everyone loved me, and nobody gave a fuck about me-

I give a fuck about you, She gave him a small, sweet, toothless smile, and Ben didn’t even fucking bother to stop himself from returning it. 

If you’d let me talk, brat, Ben drawled between their heads, dropping his brow to Hers. I’m fucking getting there. I missed my own mother’s funeral because my father somehow managed to outlive her, and I didn’t want to see his old, ugly, evil fucking face. My whole goddamn life was about being Soldier Boy, I never had a single pussy fucker I trusted, and I wasn’t aging so I decided to just keep damn waiting until this proved worth something. And you, he squeezed his arms around her, brushing his lips against Hers in a slight, soft motion. Are worth something. I waited a fucking lifetime, and I found it.

She made a small, choked sound, and Her eyes on Ben’s were filled with all that love he could feel everywhere around him. In Her, and traded between their body, and making everything so fucking good.

I love you, Her voice was soft in his head, her hands holding Ben’s head against Hers. But I don’t-

Ben had to spell it out for Her. He’d expected that. The one fucking thing she never seemed to get was that She was the whole fucking world, and Ben would follow her everywhere. I love you. I fucking adore you, and it’s not fair that you’re cleaning up all the goddamn messes I helped make in your name, before I even fucking knew you.

In my-

I was Soldier Boy to make this shit worth something. Everything I did was for whatever the fuck would be worth something, and that’s you. I was just a fucking dumbass who did it wrong. Love has made me smarter, Sunshine, because I’m doing it right now, but I still did it fucking wrong before. And I made messes, and now the woman I love has to clean them up because none of this shit is fucking fair. That V is my V, that they made to make you, and that’s it. Butcher might end up with us, but it’s you and me. We can flush that V down the toilet, or throw it off a fucking building, but that’s it. It’s not fair for you to make that call, so we’re taking it off the goddamn table.

She was silent for a second, and when She spoke she was combing her fingers through Ben’s hair, mouth dropped in a soft frown. You didn’t make these messes, Ben.

Yeah I know, fucking Homelander- 

No. She gave a small shake of her head. Not Homelander either. That's the worst part, I think. That all of this is so fucking unfair, and no one person can pay for it.

What the fuck are you talking about.

She sighed. I’m saying that I can’t blame anyone. That none of this is fair, and I can’t blame Homelander for all of it. Voguelbaum created him, and Stillwell enabled him, and- 

I fucking helped in making him- 

But they didn’t tell you to. And you didn’t make the system that he’s thrived in. You helped build it, to a degree, but not all of it. And I don’t blame you. I’ve told you that. I’ve never blamed you for how unfair this is, or what happened to me.

And I’ve told you that you fucking should- 

But I don’t. She searched his eyes, her own almost pleading. I really don’t. I love you, Benjamin, and I don’t really care for Soldier Boy, but I haven’t ever blamed you for this. Even before you were my Ben, I never blamed you.

He still didn’t fucking understand Her. She should blame him. This shit was unfair, and they both knew that fair didn’t matter, but Ben would still never be properly fucking worthy of Her. He’d never make up for how he’d set in motion things that had goddamn hurt her. But She was still curled in his lap, calling him mine, and looking at him like he was worth something. 

Why.

Do you know the Bhagavad Gita?

Ben gave Her a flat glare. You know goddamn well- 

It’s Hindu scripture. And there’s a really famous passage that says “I am become death, shatterer of worlds.” It means the soldier isn’t responsible for the deaths of the war. You were, sort of, a soldier. And you did benefit, and you were a real fucking asshole, but you were willingly blind. You committed atrocious, and didn’t think twice, because that’s what soldiers are meant to do. You aren’t a victim, but these messes aren’t just yours. A lot of people helped you make them. Vought gave you compound V, and the government signed off on the trials, and your father told you that you were worthless and you wanted a way to prove him wrong. You were an unstable dick, but you didn’t tell them the solution was to make Homelander. And you didn’t raise Homelander, or tell him to hurt me. You’ve been one of the only people who’s tried to stop him from hurting me, and that’s why I don’t blame you. Many, many people contributed to this, and none of them have ever repented. You’re repenting, and this will always be fucking unfair, but it’s you and me. You’re not a soldier anymore. You’re fighting for people you care about instead of power or glory, and you’re trying to help me fix this, and I love you. And that’s what matters.

She was fucking perfect. Ben hadn’t followed half the damn words She passed down their connection, but he understood the gist. She was still too good, too kind, too fucking forgiving, and She loved him. This wasn’t fucking fair, but he was doing everything in his goddamn power to make it easier for Her, and she fucking loved him. Ben bumped Her nose with his, and a smile tugged at her lips.

Lot of smart fucking words to say you love me and don’t blame me.

Well, you weren’t fucking getting it, Pretty Boy. That’s not my fault. She pressed a light kiss to Ben’s check, humming against his beard. Thank you.

Don’t-

Nope. Thank you. I love you, and thank you.

Ben sighed, and let it the fuck go. He had a lifetime to finally get Her to stop fucking thanking him for things he was supposed to be doing. He was meant to love Her, and listen to her, and hold her like this, so she needed to stop fucking pretending it was some sort of labor he needed thanks for. But for now, as Her head dropped down to his shoulder and she buried her face in his neck—warm breath fanning over his skin, a light touch tracing over his bicep—Ben let this be enough. She—all by her goddamn self—was more than fucking enough, and so he dropped it.

I love you too. He muttered in Her head, something relaxing and blooming in his chest as she smiled against him. Whatever the hell you want to do with the V, we’ll do it. And my vote is flushing it down the goddamn toilet. You and I are strong enough to kick Homelander’s pussy dick into his asshole all by our goddamn selves.

Her nose wrinkled. Gross.

Shut up. He moved his hand to the back of her head, running his fingers through her hair until she was molded against him. You fucking love it.

I do. There was a moment of silence, Her fingers still tracing over Ben’s skin before resting against his chest. Ben?

He grunted, keeping his hand around her and against Her in steady patterns. Circles on her hips and hair wrapped between his fingers, her skin soft under his touch and heartbeat in an even rhythm Ben knew better than his own.

You’re worth something to me as well. 

I know-

No. Let me finish. She pushed up on him, holding his gaze with an almost anguished intensity. You’re worth everything to me. You are everything to me. I love you and adore you and I give so many fucks about you it’s insane. You’re my whole life, Benjamin, now and after. And you make all of this worth something for me as well.

The radiant warmth was everywhere inside of him now, but it was fed by the ache. The way Her voice in his head was pleading, like she needed Ben to understand, and if he didn’t it might hurt her. The way Her hands were curled in his shirt as she held herself up—like she was forcing herself not to collapse against him—and her words were wrapping over Ben’s body and seeping in his skin, all of it born from Her love for him. And it all made the ache in him slide into his throat, and tug at his tongue to say a million fucking things he didn’t have words for.

Simple was easier. The only words that never failed to make Her smile, and set her heart back to an even rhythm. The only thing he fully knew how to be certain of in the entire goddamn universe.

I love you, Sunshine.

Her face split into a soft, gentle smile. I love you too, Benjamin.

She fucking loved him, and that was rooted so deeply inside of Ben that he’d never stray from it. It made him stronger, holding him in a place he knew and loved and wanted to defend. He pulled Her a little higher up his torso, dropping his head to top of her chest and just fucking living there. Where her heartbeat was the loudest, and everything felt fucking good.

They’d worry about all this shit later. They had a whole fucking day ahead of them to worry about Singer and Her stepfather, and Homelander and Mallory and Edgar. And they’d spent months that felt like lives worrying about all these fucking messes, and Ben had spent lives before that making them without ever resting, or feeling fucking satiated by it.

He was satiated here. Leaning into her, with Her legs wrapped around his body and her head resting over his. Her body was slumped over him, every hitched breath when Ben ran a hand up her thigh or traced down her spine brushing against Ben’s ear, and this felt right. This felt fucking right, and Ben didn’t think he’d felt something this plainly natural in his life. It kept amazing him—over and fucking over—how he’d spent his whole life tearing things apart when all he’d had to do was fucking wait. It had made it easier when She’d been away from him and asked him to just wait for Her, because he had a lifetime of goddamn practice waiting for Her already. Waiting for something that wasn’t fucking salvation—because She hadn’t fixed him or saved him, that was fucking stupid—but better.

She wasn’t a cure. She was too silently wrathful to be a cure, made of too many sharp, spiking parts that she cut off for others to consume for Her to be a cure. She wasn’t for others, she just didn’t know how not to be. She was something that was meant to be worshipped, that had been made into a fucking offering. Turned into something like a cure, but never able to do it right, because it’s not what she was supposed to be.

Cures were made for something deadly and diseased. And Ben wasn’t a fucking saint, but he wasn’t sick. He’d just been angry. He’d been furious and bitter and vigilant, so he’d made himself lonely half by choice and half by how vicious his bite was when he was wronged.

She bit too. She didn’t cower or maul or run. She just bit back, and Her bite was a match to his. Less brute force, but more targeted. Right into Ben’s neck, and feeding something in him he hadn’t known was hungry. So She wasn’t a fucking cure, because cures took things away. She’d made him more. Given him something he’d always wanted, and never known existed. And now Ben would always be hungry, but he’ll be satiated. He found purpose. He’d had waited his whole fucking life for purpose, and it was Her. This was a goddamn purpose, something he was meant to do and be and have and give.

Are you hungry?

Ben leaned back, meeting Her eyes with a frown. What. 

I’m thinking about dinner. We’re staying in a hotel tonight, and the meeting with Singer isn’t until the morning, and I’m hungry. 

She gave him a fake pout, and Ben seriously fucking considered throwing Butcher out of the car to get Her to a fucking McDonalds. She probably liked McDonalds, everyone fucking liked McDonalds, and she always ate Ben’s burgers, so it wasn’t like they’d get fucked by the menu.

Just in case, he asked, What do you want?

She hummed, her fingers tapping against Ben’s jaw. What do hotels usually have? Lobster? Do they have lobster? 

Fancy hotels have lobster. And if this one doesn’t, I’ll find you some- 

Ben. She gave him a flat look, even as Her love swept through him like a wildfire. Where are you going to find me lobster. 

I don’t fucking know, the ocean- 

We’re on a river, those don’t have lobsters. 

Ben rolled his eyes. Fine, smartass, another restaurant- 

They’d make you pay for that, Pretty Boy, and we’re broke. If you keep losing bets at this rate, you’ll be on dish duty until after we kill Homelander.

What the fuck else am I supposed to do, they won’t forgive my debts like they do yours- 

Because you lose all the time. She shrugged, dropping Her brow to Ben’s as she smiled at him. And I cover you, when I have the money. 

We should both have the fucking money. Ben’s hands gripped Her body against him, and she must have read his next thought on his face, because She frowned and shook her head. 

Do not use the meeting with Singer to demand a pay raise, Benjamin. That’s not what it’s for. 

It’s not a pay raise, my love, it’s a fucking union. You and I aren’t going to do more of their shit for them until they give us some goddamn money- 

We both know we’re not going to unionize. She sighed, her breath passing into Ben’s m. We might not be legally dead anymore, but we’re still not CIA employees. 

We should be-

You’d have to do an interview with Mallory. Amusement danced in Her eyes, a small smile playing on her lips. And they’d run a background check. You can’t even do a background check, Benjamin, your social security number is negative five. 

Shut up. I am not fucking old, and we still need some goddamn money. I’ll tongue Butcher’s taint before I become these pussies fucking maid-

We’ll make money. She pressed a kiss to the corner of Ben’s mouth. If escorts don’t pan out, we can try birthday parties. I know a guy who has a very authentic Soldier Boy costume, and I think he’ll let me borrow it if I give him a blowjob.

Ben snorted. He’d let you borrow it if you asked him real pretty and made him a bagel, Sunshine, but I’m not doing fucking birthday parties- 

You wouldn’t even have to talk. I’d stand behind a curtain, and I can say everything for you. The kids would never know the difference. She grinned as Her voice in Ben’s head dropped to that gravelly impression of him. Hi, I’m Soldier Boy. New York. Eagles. Baseball. Boobs. Don’t do crack, kids, do Benzedrine. Don’t wear blue, it’s a pussy color, wear green. And if you’re ever in a fight, go for the other guy’s dick. I’m a million fucking years old, and I sing Rainbow Connection in the shower when I think nobody can hear, and I know you can fucking hear me Sunshine, but you don’t goddamn count-

Ben buried his head in Her neck, sucking and biting that one spot until her words trailed off into a tiny whimper.

Brat.

Cunt. Her voice was soft and needy, and Ben smirked against Her, kissing a wet trail up her jaw and over her face. Ben-

I love you so fucking much, Sunshine. He kissed around her pretty, already open mouth, trailing his tongue over her lips. And if we didn’t have company, I’d fuck you right here.

Ben felt Her heartbeat pick up under his careful, firm touches, but she didn’t pull away. We get our own room tonight, She let out a small, breathy sigh as Ben deepened the kiss. If you can keep it in your pants for a little while longer, I’ll let you do whatever you want to me.

How much longer.

She pulls away from him slightly, reaching between their bodies to grab Her phone. She paused as she swiped at Her screen, looking up at Ben with a frown. We really need to get you another phone-

Later. How much longer until I get to fuck you. 

She wrinkled her nose at him. Horny old man- 

Needy fucking brat. Ben shifted Her above him, letting his half-hard cock push between Her thighs, gritting his teeth as her legs tightened around him. How much- 

An hour. She dropped her phone back between their bodies, wrapping her arms around Ben’s neck and lowering her face so their cheeks brushed. Think you can make it? 

Ben scoffed, moving one hand down to squeeze at Her ass and smirking at her soft squeak in his ear. I’ll manage, Sunshine. 

He wasn’t going to manage. They fell into an easy silence, Her body curled over Ben’s and her hands playing thoughtlessly with the hair at the nape of his neck, and the longer they stayed like that the more he needed her. She still smelled like that flower shampoo, but there was grass lingering over it, and a third smell that invaded Ben’s senses and so clearly just fucking Her. It was like the goddamn apples in their apartment, and chocolate, and warm smoke and the fucking sun. Ben didn’t have a better way to put it, because really it was just fucking Her. Like an aphrodisiac or song that tugged on something in his brain and called him home. Back to Her, closer to Her, always with Her.

It probably fucking was Her. That piece of her that was alive inside of him, growing stronger and stronger the longer it stayed. 

Ben had no fucking intention of letting it leave. If holding Her like this—sitting in complete goddamn silence and caring for every perfect piece of her in his arms and mind—was what this part of Her needed to thrive, he’d hold her like this forever. She lived in Ben because he was safe to her. She given this part of her to him—even if She hadn’t actually meant to—and he’d never fail Her and let it feel pain. 

He fucking loved Her, and she was all around him in every fucking way but the one that was starting to strain at his pant, and that sense of her everywhere wasn’t doing him any favors to make it through the hour. He wanted to make that piece of Her light up inside him, watch her perfect, beautiful face grow blissfully relaxed and adoring as he worshiped Her. Prove to Her that he thought she was too fucking kind and good for anyone at all, but he’d never let Her be wrong about him. If She said that Ben was repenting, he’d do whatever trial was laid out before him to prove Her right.

But as much as he wanted to bury himself deep inside of Her and mutter praise he meant and promises he’d always fucking keep, the hum of Her heart was growing slower and softer, and Ben realized she’d fallen asleep. He could feel a small amount of drool on his neck—her hair tickling his nose and her grip on his neck becoming slack—and he couldn’t stop the small smile that crept over his face. She was fucking safe here, where Ben was allowed to touch her in small ways that made her hum in sleep against his skin. Where he could trace patterns on Her hips, keep a steady arm around her waist, and let a hand move slowly up her spine to tangle in her hair until she fell further into him was a content sigh. Ben kept his breathing even and slow, his eyes on the rest of their team in a warning of keep it the fuck down, or I’ll crack your head open, so nothing could disturb her sleep.

She didn’t have a single fucking nightmare. No smoke rose from Her body, and no distressed, strangled sounds escaped her mouth. Everything in Ben felt right and a little high, so he knew she was really, truly, really fucking good. And when the limo finally stopped and Butcher turned to address them from the front, Ben’s respect for their team fucking doubled as a chorus of hissed be quiets filled the limo.

Butcher scoffed. “She’s a big girl, she don’t need a nap-“

“Butcher,” MM whispered, his tone and expression venomous. “If you wake her up, I’m not going to stop Soldier Boy from killing you.” 

“Oh, come off it, Mate-“ 

“She never sleeps well, you asshole,” Annie’s voice was hushed, her eyes turning to Ben’s. “When was the last time she had a real, full night of sleep?” 

Ben couldn’t fucking remember. Even after she’d stopped taking the suppressants, she still woke up screaming and wrapped and fire and sobbing about fucking blood. She fell back asleep easier now, but Ben had received countless fucking burns across his arms and face as he held Her down, trying to bring her back to earth before she flew off the bed and burned right through the fucking roof. She always healed the twisted for him if they weren’t gone by morning, and Ben always fucked Her after to chase off any useless goddamn guilt in her eyes, but it kept happening. He didn’t know how to fix it, other than only staying, just like she’d asked. 

Annie must have seen the clench of his jaw—images of Her perfect face empty and hollow and broken flashing in Ben’s brain, echoes of her screams ringing in his ears—because she turned back to Butcher with a glare. “You just have to lower your voice, Butcher. Don’t be a dick.”

Butcher’s attention darted to Her—still steadily asleep against Ben—and rolled his eyes as he dropped his voice. “We got four rooms, and all the lovey dovey cunts will be sharin.” Butcher threw keycards to MM and Ben, who caught their’s with ease, and Hughie, who made a small yelp as Annie’s arm shot out, catching it for him. “Meetin with Singer is at 8am, and we got to be there at 7. You lot will meet me here at 6, and I don’t want to see your sorry fuckin faces until then.”

Ben could live with that. It was a little past midnight, and six hours of sleep was a fuck ton more than She usually got, so he’d take it and rest at Her side until morning. He shifted Her in his arms—moving her carefully up his chest, looping one arm under her knees—and carried her out of the limo, into the back entrance of the hotel, and up the stairs. MM had grabbed their suitcase, and Ben gave him a silent, firm nod as MM pushed into their room.

A hand shot out before Ben could kick the door closed, and MM’s gaze bore into Ben’s skull, his voice low. “She okay?” 

She would be. As long as Ben could do a goddamn thing about it, She’d be okay for the rest of her fucking life. “She’s good,” Ben grunted, glancing down to Her perfect, peaceful face, half smushed into his shoulder, hair falling over her eyes. So fucking beautiful, and happily where she belonged. “I’m taking care of her.”

He wasn’t sure why he said that. It certainly wasn’t for MM’s fucking approval, because the only person whose approval mattered was Hers. And Ben did take care of Her. He took very fucking good care of Her, because he fucking loved her, and she was the most important person in the world. And he sure as fuck didn’t need to say that he took care of Her, because he proved that he did in his every waking moment. 

Even right fucking now Ben was carrying her to bed, holding Her like she was something holier than life—she was—and planning to stay at Her side all night. Wrap his arms around her and hold her in the dark, then march at her side in the morning to face whatever the hell Singer had ready for them. And then he’d figure out where they kept lobster in DC, and get her some. And that’s what fucking mattered. Showing Her she was good. Only saying he was taking care of her wouldn’t mean a goddamn thing if he didn’t keep doing it, over and over and over until they were the last people left in the world, and a long while after that.

But MM gave a short nod, and Ben realized that the man had just believed him. MM might not fully trust Ben—and if he was being completely fucking honest that was still an understandable call, Ben would shoot everyone in the fucking head if they became a threat to Her or Ryan—but he trusted Ben with this. With Her. He trusted that when Ben said she’s good, he was telling the truth. 

And he was. With a muttered reminder from MM not to be late in the morning and the door closing—leaving Ben and Her alone, together with the nightlights of the city casting shadows over her sleeping features—She was happy. Content as Ben laid her down on the bed, keeping one hand on her thigh as he unzipped their suitcase. He found one of his softer shirts and—a little selfishly, but he couldn’t bring himself to feel bad or give a fuck because She wore his clothing all the goddamn time anyway—changed her into it. She shouldn’t sleep in fucking jeans or her bra, so Ben carefully stripped her down—every movement debilitate and slow and silent so as not to disturb or wake her—and pulled his shirt over her body, kissing her brow before sitting at the edge of their bed and trying to figure out how the fuck to get them food.

This wasn’t the same hotel as last time, but shit had always worked the same at every hotel in history, so Ben figured it out. He read the directory, called room service, and ordered everything.

“And, um,” a nervous, soft-voiced woman was on the other end of the line, listing off more shit for Ben to add to his list. “Would you like dessert, sir?”

“Of course I want fucking dessert-“

Don’t be mean to the hotel staff, Benjamin. Ben cut himself off as Her arms wrapped around his torso, and looked down to see her head in his lap, her face buried in his abdomen. They’re doing their best, and it’s late. 

Ben sighed, letting his free hand wander into her hair, and grunted into the phone, “dessert is good. Add it.” 

“Do you have anything in mind, or would you like, um, all of it too?” 

Sunshine- 

I’d like ice cream. She hummed against him, and Ben felt her soft smile against his body. Whatever flavor you want. 

“Ice cream,” Ben muttered, his eyes locked on Her, tucked and resting against him, so fucking perfect. “Vanilla. Two of them.” 

A small giggle escaped Her. You’re very predictable, Pretty Boy. 

Shut the fuck up. 

“That will come to,” Ben heard the lady on the other end swallow, and there was a moment of static silence on the phone. “$492. Are you sure-“

“Get me the fucking food lady, and I’ll give you a 20% tip.” 

Ben had no idea how much that would be, but the woman seemed happy with it, because she gave him an eager agreement before hanging up the line. 

“Food will be here soon,” Ben muttered Her name, and his heart might’ve stopped fucking working when she rolled over in his lap, a beautiful, sleepy expression on her perfect face. “You’re-“ 

“Don’t say tired, or I’ll punch you.” She grumbled, poking at Ben’s chest with a pout. “You’re not allowed to do that right now.”

“I didn’t do fucking shit-”

“You were going to,” she mumbled, face flushing. “You were going to make me go to sleep.” 

“We both know,” Ben drawled, smirking as he traced his thumb over her lips. “That I can’t make you do anything, darling. You never fucking listen to me.”

She buried her face back into Ben’s body, words muffled against his skin. “Fuck you.”

“I did promise to.” He hummed, glancing at the red numbers on their bedside table, reading 12:49. “But you need fucking sleep. We’re moving real damn early tomorrow, and you-“

“How early?”

“Six.”

She sighed against him, and Ben felt the alarm of wrong. Something is very wrong, because She’s hurting and that’s the worst fucking thing in the universe. 

He grunted Her name, pulling lightly at her hair. “Look at me.” 

When She rolled fully onto her back—Her eyes not hollow, but glossed over and soft—she just watched him. Waited for Ben to speak, one of her hands reaching up to touch his jaw, the whole fucking world just them. Together.

“What’s wrong. And don’t say nothing-“

“I don’t want to go tomorrow.” She whispered, and Ben froze. She sounded so fucking tired, and it was wrapping around his head and dragging his body down. Down to Her, to soothe her, to touch her and fucking fix this. “I know we have to, but I don’t want to, Ben. I’m,” she took a heavy breath. “I don’t want to.” 

“Then we fucking won’t.” He snapped. It was pretty goddamn simple. He’d steal them a car, and they’d drive home. The rest of the team could handle this, and that was fucking that- 

“We need to.” She gave Ben a small, sad smile, and he felt like someone was fucking stabbing him. “You know we need to. I have to be there for this-“ 

“You don’t have to-“ 

“I do.” She sat up, twisting until their legs were tangled and she was leaning against him, holding Ben’s face in her hands. “I have to. I need to see him.” 

Ben's arms wrapped around Her body as he scanned over her face. Only inches from his, so goddamn sad and tired, a so fucking beautiful. “Muller.”

She nodded, and Ben’s was going to break his teeth. For that pussies' own sake, Muller better be too much of a goddamn coward to show face tomorrow, or Ben would damn the consequences and kill him. V or no V, he was still someone that was fucking hurting Her. As She spoke her voice was too quiet, and her eyes looked so goddamn far away, and Ben felt fucking sick.

“He never,” She swallowed, and Ben remained silent. Right now his job was to fucking listen, and he was damn good at it. Rubbing circles on her lower back, holding whatever of her gaze she gave him, and watching her the whole time. “He never acknowledged I was dead. Or alive. Or anything.” She sighed, leaning her brow against Ben’s. “I don’t want to talk to him, Ben. I don’t want to hear what he believes.”

“Believes-“ 

“About me.” She mumbled, Her eyes closed and heartbeat not fast, but uneven. “What Homelander and Sage have said, what Annie’s said, and-“ She shook her head, nose brushing Ben’s. “Everything. All of it. What I’ve done, and what happened to me. Who I might be, if I’m a whore, or bitch, or liar, or traitor-”

Ben muttered Her name, waiting for her to look at him before he spoke. “You’re not any of that. He’s not your fucking family. He’s a worthless pussy, and if he believes the wrong shit it doesn’t change the goddamn truth.”

“I know. I know, it doesn’t, but-“ 

“No.” Ben moved at hand up, pulling one of Hers off his face as kissing her knuckles. “No fucking but-“ 

“Please,” Her voice was barely a breath, and Ben’s whole body hurt as he fell silent.“I’m not worried about Muller, Ben. I’m worried about my,” Her hand tangled in Ben’s, her grip like iron as she took a long breath. “I’m worried about my mom. He’s just an extension of her, and whatever he believes-” 

She cut Herself off with a half-sob, and Ben let smoke curl between their fingers, not flinching away as heat started to burn his skin. He’d hold Her through this fall and catch Her at the end. He’d always fucking catch her, but he knew she had to fall first. Ben had to hear everything spiraling through her insane, perfect brain so he could get his words fucking right when it was his turn to speak.

“I,” She took a shaking breath, and there was something tight and curled in her throat that Ben could feel. “I know I shouldn’t care. It’s been years, and I shouldn’t care, and I’ve had worse things-“ She made another strangled noise, her heart bouncing around her ribs. “Worse things happen to me since. But it still hurts, everything hurts. She said I wasn’t strong enough to be alone, Homelander said I’m not strong enough, and I’m not, Ben, I’m not. I’m so tired. And I’m so sick of being tired, but I’m not, I’m not strong enough to just fucking be better-“

That was enough. Ben had all he fucking needed to pull Her back down, and he’d be damned if he let Her think for another fucking second that she wasn’t fucking everything. 

“You don’t need to be fucking better, you are better.” Ben tilted his head up, her words falling into soft tears that made something flail around in his gut, and kissed the space between her eyes as he muttered against her skin. “No matter fucking what, you’re better. You’re not whatever the fuck they think you are. Any of them. They don’t know you, Sunshine, I fucking know you. And you’re smart and good and kind and beautiful and a goddamn powerful fucking problem and you’re perfect. You’re fucking perfect, so stop being stupid.”

She made a choked sound, fully falling against him, and as her arms wrapped around Ben’s neck all Her love bloomed in his body. It hurt, it fucking ripped him apart inside as she sobbed into him, shaking slightly in his hands and clinging to him like he was an anchor. Something holding Her together, that she trusted to keep her safe, and She fucking did. Because Ben folded his body over hers, and touched her right, and waited for this to pass. It always fucking passed, and they both knew it would return, but then they’d just wait it out together once more. Every single fucking thing would pass but them. She’d stay planted in Ben, covering everything in him and the world, and if they burned they’d burn together. And that was where the love in her made this pain worth it by a million fucking fold. Because this hurt—this killed Ben and lined cracks along his skull, twisting and rotting something in his heart—but then it passed, and everything was warm. Turning the rot to smoke, healing every crack, and spreading through Ben’s veins like a fucking drug. Like something sacred, that everyone chased but Ben got to have. That he’d somehow managed to earn, just by loving Her and caring for her and staying.

So when this passed, and Her breathing still ragged but her heart growing even, Her voice in Ben’s head was soft but not weak. She couldn’t be fucking weak if she tried. I’m sorry.

Before Ben could grunt between them for her to never fucking apologize, She looked up at him with a beautiful, full-lipped, toothless smile, her face glistening with evaporated tears. 

What’s- 

I don’t think this is how meeting the parents is supposed to go. I think we’re supposed to have dinner at an Olive Garden and not talk about Homelander at all.

Ben snorted, kissing the top of Her head. I don’t give fuck about Olive Garden- 

That’s not very family-oriented of you, Benjamin- 

And I don’t give a fuck about your parents. I care about you, Sunshine, and I have no fucking interest in impressing idiots pussies who don’t. 

Her love was fucking infinite in Ben’s body, and nobody had ever fucking looked at him like that but Her. Like She believed him, but didn’t believe he was real. Would you, um, I mean I know we’ve been keeping Violet away from this, but after, my dad and my other siblings- 

He grunted Her name between them, and a pretty flush covered her face. Whoever you want me to meet, I will. But if I think they’re being asshole cockheads, I’m not fucking standing for it. I love you, and nobody is allowed to tell you who the fuck you are- 

You tell me who I am all the time, She gave him an amused look. You literally just told me who I was.

Ben rolled his eyes. That’s not the fucking same. I’m not a pussy dumb fuck talking out of my ass, you’re the love of my fucking life and you were being an idiot. You’re not weak, and I’m not going to let people who don’t goddamn know shit tell you that you are- 

She kissed him, soft and sweet, her hands gliding up his chest to hold his jaw. Thanksgivings are going to be really awkward, if you call my family a bunch of fucking pussies the whole time.

Ben smirked against her. Good thing those pussies aren’t invited to our thanksgiving.

Who is-

Nobody. It’s going to be me, you, and a massive fucking sex marathon. 

She giggled, and even though the sound was quiet, it was real. She was fucking happy, here, with Ben. Not even going to pretend we’ll invite our friends? 

No. Ben twisted his face in half-mocked disgust. We’re going to need the entire goddamn turkey to ourselves, to make sure you have enough energy. I will not have you fucking tagging out before we get started. 

All I hear, She pulled back, and that was Her full smile. Her wide, infinite smile that contained the whole universe and was made of something so fucking bright and vital Ben would never find anything like it if he tried. Is that you’re not denying they’re our friends. 

Ben’s eyes narrowed. Impossibly clever, beautiful, perfect fucking woman, backing him into corners and knowing him too fucking well. He didn’t have an argument out of it, because if he said they weren’t she’d push it and win—something starting with our friends care about me, and ending with and you trust them with Ryan and I—and if he just agreed he’d never hear the goddamn end of it, so his only avenue was to roll her onto her back, leaving sloppy, wet kiss all over her face as she laughed and let out blissful sighs, muttering brat and fucking love you, Sunshine against her skin and down her throat right up until someone knocked on the door.

Her eyes grew comically wide as Ben dumped their order of food on the hotel table, her face falling into a plainly adorable gape as she looked up at him. “Did you order thanksgiving? I can’t eat all of this-“

“Then take whatever the fuck you want,” Ben looped his arm around Her waist, kissing the top of her head as she leaned onto his shoulder. “And I’ll eat whatever you don’t.”

She smiled at him, tilting her head to kiss his cheek, and hummed against him. “I can’t believe I’m in love with a dog.”

He scowled. “I am not a fucking dog-“

“You are, my love. You’re a massive fucking puppy, and I adore you.” 

Ben is pretty goddamn sure his heart stopped working and then got jumpstarted within the same fucking millisecond. She’d tugged herself away from him—filling up one of the paper plates hotel services had brought up before shuffling back to the bed, waiting for Ben to join her with a patient, expectant gaze—and he had to make his feet move. He’d wanted to stay there for the rest of his fucking life, where She’d called him my love, and he’d understood why her heart always skipped when Ben said it. He was Her’s. Every single fucking part of Ben was Her’s, and he couldn’t even bring himself to be mad about the dog comment, because She was fucking right. He’d follow her everywhere, and snarl at what threatened her, and taking whatever fucking scraps she offered him of her love.

He’d never have enough of Her love. It was better than any drug or drink or high, and it was for Ben. It was all goddamn his, and if that meant he had to be a fucking pathetic dog for Her, then so goddamn be it. Anyone would do that, love Her how she asked, because it made Her fucking smile and chased off the pain faster.

And Ben had learned that, in his life, he’d really only despised two people. He’d hated a lot of people, but that was hatred born of vengeance and a sour, white-hot fury that had festered in his body for most of his life and found an avenue out through the drums. Despising people wasn’t the same. It was born of true, raw, pure disgust and loathing. A channel for that fury that wasn’t about Ben’s own anger, but about twisting and morphing the fury into ardor and zealous protection. Turning the drums and wrath into something better, that targeted the only two pussy fucking idiots who made Her fucking cry. The only two asshole cum-fucks who knew exactly how to hurt Her, and weaponized it, making Her sob against Ben as she broke.

Nobody made Her fucking cry but Homelander and her mother. She made herself cry sometimes, but that wasn’t the fucking same. That was born of how much She cared and loved everything, and how she seemed to remember every goddamn thing anyone ever said and took it as gospel—when it fucking wasn’t—to who she was. When Homelander and her mother made Her cry, it was born of something evil. Something evil and cold and horrid and covered in bile and guts to carve her open. 

Ben would kill Homelander, if not for the world, for Her. And despite the truth that he had no fucking interest in trying to entertain anyone in Her life who made her fucking cry like that, he still wanted to meet her mother. Not to kill her, but just put the fear of God in her. Make the woman understand that her daughter was a goddamn miracle on Earth, and Ben was going to love Her until it was just them in a ruined world, watching the stars and laying in the grass and smiling. He’d love her like the perfect, dangerous, beautiful thing that had crawled to him covered in blood and dirt and grime that she was, wrapped in fire and still seeking warmth. Ben wanted to sneer at Her mother to never try to fucking bother them, because if the woman said one wrong thing to Her, Ben wouldn’t tolerate it. There wasn’t a fucking chance he was letting anyone make her look all fucking sad, when She was meant to be happy. He might not cut out tongues when people misstepped, but he’d stay wrapped around Her, a silent reminder to the world—to Her mother—that Ben loved Her, and she’d always fucking have him. However She wanted Ben, she’d get him. 

Ben would always hate that she never got to meet his mother, because they’d have fucking loved each other. His mother would’ve liked Her, a bit because everyone fucking liked Her, but mostly because She was better than Ben was. She was better thanany other pussy in the universe, and She was smart, and kind, and clever, and the type of beautiful his mother would’ve said made gods jealous. That was what his mother had always said he should find, even after he’d become Soldier Boy,and he’d never fucking gotten what the hell it meant before Her. He’d had countless beautiful women in his bed, and not one would’ve made gods jealous. They were just beautiful. There was so much fucking beauty in the world, and Soldier Boy got all of it, and Ben had decided that the made gods jealous shit was just something a mother told her son. 

He got it now though. She was the type of beauty that made gods fucking jealous. Because she was the type of beautiful they wrote stories about, made art and castles and temples for, and searched through the world to learn more words for beauty just to fucking compare Her to. And all the beauty in the universe lived inside of Her, and she was fucking perfect. So Ben’s mother would’ve loved Her, because she carried Ben’s whole fucking world just by existing. He’d have sat in silence as they talked about whatever the fuck mothers and daughters talked about, and She’d have hit him halfway through the conversation to ask him his opinion, then made a joke about his opinion with joy and love in Her eyes and Ben’s body, and he’d have smiled at Her, and when they stood up to leave his mother would’ve hugged Her and that would’ve been it. It would’ve confirmed something that Ben already fucking knew, but still wanted his mother to know as well. 

And something still sour and angry in Ben wished he could introduce Her to his father. One, quick meeting just to say fuck you, you old pussy. I am worth something, because I’m repenting, and I’m fighting for people I care about, and the most perfect woman in fucking history loves me, and she’s never wrong. Ben wouldn’t let his father speak to Her—he barely deserved to be in Her presence—but he’d brag about her. Tell his father that She was a brilliant fucking woman, and a fucking doctor, and never took any goddamn shortcuts, and She loved Ben. To tell his father that their last name would die with him, and he’d rot in a grave for the rest of time while She and Ben were fucking happy, and Ben gave her the world. 

He’d give this perfect fucking menace—curled at his side, wearing his shirt and eating chicken nuggets like a fucking animal—whatever she wanted or needed and asked for. His lungs and heart and guts out of his body, the sun to hold in her hands, a hundred fucking trees planted in her name. Ben would offer his life on a silver platter for Her to do whatever she pleased with it, which is why he almost snorted when She started stealing looks at his food, chewing on her lips and eyeing his fries like she hadn’t just practically fucking inhaled her own. 

He dumped them onto her plate without a word, and when Her face lit up with joy he didn’t fucking understand how anyone could fucking think to hurt Her. He was a little bias—not everyone was as fucking genius as Ben was to love her, or strong enough to be loved by her—but he still just didn’t goddamn get it. How a single goddamn pussy fucker could look at Her and consider being cruel to her. Even when he thought back to the beginning, Ben had never wanted to hurt her. He’d found Her annoying, and been mad about the whole borderline blackmailing shit, but he’d never wanted to make her cry. Her crying had always set off something primal and feral and confusing in his body, making his every thought this is fucking wrong. Something like Her shouldn’t hurt or be in pain. 

Ben coughed, and her pretty eyes shot up to meet his with a little bit of sauce hanging on her lip. Sauce that Ben got to wipe off with his thumb, eat, and smirk as Her mouth remained parted and her heart kicked into a faster gear.

“Ben-“

“I haven’t had a thanksgiving since the 50s.” Ben grunted, and wasn’t fucking sure where this was coming from. All he did know was that She fell silent to listen, and the words started to fucking vomit out of him, and he needed Her to understand that She was his family. That he’d never allow himself to be someone who made her cry. “And it was fucking shit. Food was fine, drinks were weak, and I went because my mother begged me to. Nobody seemed to get why I was there, my own family didn’t fucking know me because my father didn’t let my mom talk about me, and all I did the whole night was answer fucking Soldier Boy questions.” 

She blinked at him. “What are Soldier Boy questions?” 

“What was the war like,” Ben grunted. “If I shoot you will it hurt. Think you can fucking outdrink me or beat me in a race. Elvis and Sinatra a good time, Garland a good fuck. I wore my fucking supe suit there because I’d be shipping off to film some fucking movie in the morning, and my father didn’t look at me the whole time. I left early, and that was the fucking end of it. But,” Ben swallowed, and suddenly this was impossibly fucking difficult. He had to get this right. “I’d try it again. I could kill a turkey and you could burn it, and if you want the team we could fuck after they leave-“

“Ben.”

He cut himself off, and Her smile was so simply fucking sweet. It wasn’t the syrupy, over exaggerated and slightly crude one she gave when people tried to make her be nice when the situation didn’t fucking call for it. This was all fucking love and affection and want for Ben.

“When we get to November,” she whispered, and Ben’s whole body was frozen in place. As if, should he blink, he’d miss a single word or moment of her love. “I’d love to do thanksgiving with you and the team. I’d love to do anything with you, except killing the turkey.” Her nose wrinkled. “That’s gross.”

She’d love to do anything with him. She’d love to do anything with Ben.

“Good,” he muttered, moving their plates off to the side and pulling her with him towards the headboard, moving her to rest between his legs, his arms wrapping over her stomach as he kissed her neck and hummed in her ear. “Whatever the fuck you want, beautiful, as long as you’re not cooking.”

She twisted around in his hold, pushing his chest lightly as he grinned at her. “Fucking rude, Benjamin. I can cook perfectly well now, and I certainly a whole lot better than you are-“

“You’re better at most things than I am,” Ben shrugged. “And fuck me for trying to stop everyone from eating your piss-poor pie and getting fucking poisoned-“ 

“You love my pie. You won’t shut the fuck up about my pie.” There was a smug, proud look in her eyes at her dogshit innuendo, and Ben snorted. 

“That might be the only thing you’re not good at,” Ben said her name, kneading his hands against her skin. “That didn’t even make goddamn sense-“ 

“Fuck you, Ben, you got hard-“ 

“Because you’re fucking sitting on me, darling.” He leaned down, nipping at Her lower lip. “And that will always make me hard.” 

Her heart stumbled in her chest. “Shut up.” 

“No. I love you, and I’m never going to fucking apologize for wanting to fuck my woman.” Ben winked at Her. “And I always want to fuck you.” 

She cleared her throat, and her gaze was suddenly sharp. Her love still lived in Ben—running up and down his spine, eternal and so fucking powerful it might consume him, and he’d let it—but Her fingers were tapping on Ben’s chest, the gears of Her impossibly brilliant mind turning behind her eyes. 

“Ben?” 

He grunted, the grunt she’d said meant he was listening to her, and she let out a long breath. 

“Do you, have you thought about after?”

“After what.” 

“After this.” She made a gesture to the air, eyes still locked onto Ben’s. “All of this. If we kill Homelander-“ 

“When. When we fucking kill Homelander-” 

She gave him a flat look. “When we kill Homelander. What do you, um, what do you want after?” 

Ben knew exactly what he fucking wanted. Her. Whatever way he got to have her, he wanted her. But he didn’t know how to say that without sounding like a fucking dumbass, so he hesitated. One fucking second too long, because something is her eyes looked wounded, and Ben had to talk right fucking now. She deserved to be told with all the fucking poetry and art in the fucking universe, but that wasn’t Ben. He didn’t know how the hell to do that, but she also didn’t want anyone but Ben, so he settled on his way. The blunt, clear as fucking day truth.

He said Her name, moving a hand up to cup her cheek, letting his thumb run over her cheekbone. “Whatever the hell you want, I want as well. That’s fucking that.” 

“But I want to knowwhat you want.” She mumbled, hands fisting in his shirt. “I, I just want to hear about it. Don’t worry about, um,” her tongue peaked out from her lips, her chewing becoming rapid with Her heart. “Anything. What I’ll think, how I’ll react. I just want to know.” 

Ben’s hand on her hips stilled, and he clung to Her—alive inside him—to make sure She was serious. He had the feeling they both knew what Ben wanted, but he’d had no desire to say it aloud. Not when Homelander was still fucking alive, still trying to hurt her, and had been so fucking close to crossing that final, horrible, unspeakable line once more barely a few months ago.

But She was content inside of him. There wasn’t any sickness or cold or sense of wrong, only the pleading look in Her eyes and her hands turning the fabric of Ben’s shirt between them as she waited. 

“Swear that if you start to-“ 

“I’ll stop you,” She whispered, holding Ben’s gaze. “I promise. Please tell me.” 

“I want this.” He muttered, a careful ear on Her heart for the slightest stutter. “I want you and me, for the rest of fucking time.” 

He stopped, and hoped that was enough. And of course, it fucking wasn’t. 

She dropped her face on his shoulder. “And?” 

“That’s it-“ 

“Where do you want us to be?” She mumbled, and Ben could feel her eyes on his as she turned her head. “Rome? A little no name town? New York, LA-“

“No. Not fucking LA-“ 

“Then where-“ 

“Wherever the fuck you are, I’ll be fine-“ 

“Ben.” His eyes moved to watch her without his fucking permission. “I want to know what you want-“ 

“That is what I fucking want.” He grunted. “I just fucking want you and whatever the hell you want I’ll be good with. I don’t give a fuck where we are, because I’ll be there with you, and that’s what I want. If you want a little fucking postcard town, then we’ll go there. I’ll get a job in the woods so I don’t have to see anyone but you, and you can do whatever the fuck you want all day. If you want Rome, we’ll get you there and do the escort plan until we have a fucking mansion, and I’ll fuck you in every corner of it. If you ask I’ll fuck you full of kids, until we can run our own goddamn little league.” Ben had started, and now he couldn’t fucking stop. “If you want to stay in New York, we’ll find a goddamn apartment and have Annie and Hughie over for lunch, and I’ll take you to stupid fucking movies and we’ll dance the kitchen and sit on the roof until I carry you to bed. If you want to travel the world and help people, I’ll be right at your fucking side, and if you just want to go back to Boston I’ll be there as well. We can have a shitty house that’s older than I am, and you’ll do your decorating shit and be nice to all our stupid neighbors. You can do whatever the fuck smart people do, and I can teach our kids to fucking hate all your stupid sports teams, and we’ll drive them down to the fucking Cape for the summer, and when everyone’s asleep I’ll bring you outside and fuck you on the beach. I’ll fuck you anywhere, Sunshine. I’ll be fucking happy anywhere, because I’ll be wherever you are. So I don’t care what you give me, kids or no kids or a house or a fucking dumpster. As long as you’re there, I’ll be good.” 

Before Ben had even fucking finished speaking, She was smiling at him. And it was all raw fucking joy. “Okay,” She whispered, and rose back up Ben’s body, pressing her brow to his and still fucking smiling. “I’d like that.” 

“Which-“ 

“All of it.” She made a small, blissful sound. “Thank you.” 

He didn’t tell Her not to thank him. Ben just allowed one arm wrap around her waist, and his hand moved up to hold the back of Her head. He let their lips brush, but not further, and muttered. “I fucking love you, Sunshine. I’m serious-“ 

“I know you are.” Her hands glided down Ben’s chest, pushing Herself a little higher up, a little closer, on his chest. “You’re a huge, very serious, grumpy old cunt.” She closed the last bit of space between them, her lips fitting so fucking perfectly against Ben’s, her body melting into his like it was fucking meant to. Her words hummed through Ben’s blood, setting him alight. “And I love you too.” 

It was all he needed. Ben rolled the over, caging Her between him and the mattress—safe, fucking safe and goddamn happy—without ever breaking their kiss. Ben let her hands roam over his body, let her tug his shirt up and her hands trace paths over the bare skin of his chest and torso that lit him on fucking fire. 

“Off,” She mumbled into Ben’s mouth, pulling his shirt further up his chest. “Off, Ben, please-“ 

Ben raised himself up—keeping her against the bed, pinned under his weight by his thighs—and half ripped his shirt off his body before immediately returning. Propping himself up on one elbow, diving down to her neck and sucking and biting a path that made Her sigh, a whining and high sound, and grind up into his torso. 

“Want you,” he muttered Her name against her skin, his free hand moving under Her shirt—Ben’s shirt—to play with the waistline of her panties. “Want you all the fucking time, Sunshine. What do you-“ 

“You,” Her answer was breathless, soft and high and ending in a slight whine as Ben’s thumb pressed right over Her clothed clit. “Want you, Ben, please. Need you.“ 

He groaned as one of Her hands slid between their bodies, palming at his cock, tenting against Her thighs. “How do you-“ 

“Don’t care, just want you-“ 

Ben decided to do it slow. Gentle and fucking sweet. Too good, and all Ben’s to praise and tend to and revere. So he pulled his shirt off Her body—carefully this time, because it did fucking things to Ben when she wore his clothing and he never wanted to take that away from himself—and pressed his palm over her soaked panties, kissing a line down between and under her breasts, rising back up to take a nipple in his mouth, smirking at the high squeak that left her mouth as he sucked. 

Her hands had shot into his hair, her chest heaving as Ben continued his work, starting to roll his hand over her clit. “Ben-“

You’re so fucking beautiful, Sunshine. He let his teeth graze over her—forcing himself to keep focus as she bucked her hips up—and switched to the other nipple. Can’t believe you’re all fucking mine. So fucking good for me, darling, so goddamn perfect. 

“Please-“ 

She cut herself off with a whine as Ben flicked his tongue, his palm pushing down against her, halting her movements up into him. 

Want to fucking show you how perfect you are, my love. Let me fucking show you- 

Please, Ben, fuck, please- 

He grinned at the breathless tone of Her voice between their minds, and surged back up, crashing his mouth into Hers and kissing her until she moaned. Long and desperate, half a sound of need and half his name, already fucking wrecked without friction, Ben holding her still under him. 

“Want you to be loud,” he grunted Her name into her mouth. “Talk to me, tell me how fucking good it feels-“ 

She nodded frantically, and Ben chuckled. 

“Words-“ 

“Feels good,” She mumbled, words practically fucking slurred. “Feels so good, Ben, god-“ 

“Have I told you,” he drawled, swallowing Her whimper as he pressed his hand further against her. “How much you consume my every fucking thought. How much I think about you, how it’s a goddamn problem, how much I adore and love you?” 

“You’ve-“ She took a ragged breath as Ben’s head dropped to suck and lick at her neck. “I think you’ve mention it-“ 

“See, I still think you don’t fucking understand.” Ben bit at her skin and she rolled Her hips, pulling at his hair. “You’re my fucking life, Sunshine. And I’ll say it until you get it into your pretty head. You’re perfect, every single goddamn part of you. You’re too fucking clever, darling, so good and kind and brilliant.” Ben trailed back up, tugging at Her ear and kissing over her cheekbone before pressing his brow to hers. 

“Ben-“ 

He chuckled as she tried to chase his mouth, and started to rub large circles against her clit with his palm, tracing his fingers over the slit of her pussy, still covered by her underwear. 

“Fuck-“ 

“I can fucking feel that sharp, insane mind of yours inside me, beautiful.” He dropped his mouth just an inch further down, holding himself where their lips brushed as he spoke, but no further. “And I love you there the most. Love how fucking bright you are, Sunshine. This mouth of yours is so fucking smart,” he traced his lips over Hers, and she whimpered, eyes blown out and wide on his. “And you can be such a fucking brat, darling, but I goddamn love it. You’re my best fucking friend, and the most impossible fucking pain in my ass I could ever ask to love.”

She was fucking coming apart below him. Sighing in Ben’s mouth and letting him push his tongue down her throat, letting him kiss Her until he decided he should probably keep up with the plan he’d come up with, or else he’d just fucking kiss her until he came in his pants like a goddamn teenager.

Ben dragged his lips from Hers, and her sound of protest turned to a soft moan as Ben kissed every fucking inch of her face her could reach, love and want fucking rioting inside of him as she tried to move to offer him better access.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he muttered, dragging his hand up from her cunt to hold her face, running his fingers over her lips and cheekbones and jaw. “You’re a goddamn marvel, Sunshine, you’re fucking art.” 

“Benjamin-“ 

Her words were a long, breathy, desperate moan, and he dropped back down to her lips. “I know, my love. I’ll get there-”

“I want you there now, you fucking dick-“ 

“And you get my fucking dick,” Ben hummed Her name, feeling himself twitch in his pants as he glanced down at her body, squirming and grinding and fucking perfect under him. “Patience.” 

“I hate you-“ 

“You fucking love me.” He kissed back down Her neck, over her collarbones. You love how grumpy I am, and how hard I work, and my fucking dick. But I think what you love most, Ben squeezed where he was holding Her waist. Is how I fucking worship you like you deserve. Make you feel fucking good, Sunshine, take real good care of you- 

I, She took a long breath, hands tugging Ben’s face back up, Her eyes on his still lustful, but now soft as well. That’s not what I love most about you. 

He grunted Her name between their heads, but she pushed on. 

I love how much you care, period. You don’t half-ass anything, Benjamin, and that includes caring. I’ve never seen anyone care about anything so aggressively as you care about baseball and stupid war documentaries and ice cream. I’ve never been cared about as much as you care about me. I didn’t think it was possible to care about someone as much as you care about me. She smiled at him, and Ben was pretty goddamn sure his heart fucking exploded. You care about me and Ryan and everything else you love so violently and wrathfully and powerfully, and that’s what I love most about you.

Ben’s voice sounded fucking hoarse in his own head. Sunshine- 

But, She curled up, kissing Ben’s nose. It’s only one reason on a very long list, my love- 

That snapped something deep in Ben's head, and it cleared his brain to Her. Everything in the universe narrowed to Her. 

This kiss was fucking brutal. Ben’s hand fisted Her hair, his teeth and spit and tongue Hers as well, his whole body demanding more. He’d never been more fucking satiated, and he’d never be more fucking hungry.

I love you, he muttered Her name between their heads. I love every single goddamn thing about you. And I’ve got a whole fucking plan to show you, so for once in your goddamn life, let me do the talking, darling. Moan and scream and beg all you fucking want, but I talk.

But you said-

I changed my mind. No talking.

Ben-

Deal? 

She nodded, finger’s curling on Ben’s face as she writhed below him. Deal, fucking deal, just please- 

I’ve meant everything I said about how much I love you. How smart and kind and clever and perfect that mind of yours is. But fucking Christ, Sunshine, you’re a goddamn wet dream. 

She moaned as Ben moved back to Her body, worshiping Her shoulder and neck and chest with his mouth, Her hips and waist and ass with his hands.

Every single fucking thing about you is goddamn perfection, but these, Ben returned his mouth to Her nipple, her moan only spurring him on. Were crafted by some sort of evil god. They’re fucking magic, beautiful, you could fucking win a war with them. He raised his spare hand to knead at Her other breast, and a strangled sound that sounded like his name left her mouth. 

“God, please-“ 

I talk. Ben squeezed Her one last time, flicking her nipple before switching to soothe the hurt with his tongue, and moved his hand back up to Her mouth. Be fucking good for me, darling, and listen.

Ben- 

He pressed his fingers between Her lips, and she didn’t fucking hesitate to start sucking on them. Licking and nipping and fucking moaning around him, and he groaned against Her tit. 

Fucking Christ, you’re going to kill me. He left one last kiss on her nipple, rising up just enough to watch her. You’re so fucking beautiful-

She whined, bucking up into Ben’s fully hard cock, and Her eyes on his were a plea.

Want to cum, Sunshine? 

She only nodded, kicking his abdomen, and he chuckled, pulling his fingers away with a pop.

Just a little longer, darling. Hold on for me.

Ben didn’t wait to see the desperation in Her eyes—he could feel it in his fucking body—before he was dropping back down, kissing between her breasts, over her stomach, and leaving one soft, fucking sweet kiss over her clothed clit before leaning back and ripping off her panties, admiring his handiwork.

She was fucking dripping. Soaking the sheets, so fucking perfect, and all goddamn Ben’s.

You’ve got the best fucking legs I’ve ever seen, he muttered into her head, kissing and biting a loose pattern over her inner thighs. Could fucking die here. But this, Ben parted Her swollen pussy lips, smirking at her small gasp. Is like a fucking drug. You’re always so fucking wet for me, my love, I don’t even need to prep you. But I think I will anyway.

Ben pushed two fingers into Her, pumping slowly and groaning as she squeezed around him. Then, just for his fucking self, Ben pulled Her clit into his mouth and sucked. Going and going without pointless shit like air, scissoring and pushing his fingers in deeper, and only stopping when She screamed, and his whole fucking face got soaked. He felt and smelled and tasted Her fucking everywhere, and it was like fucking water. Earthier and harsher and so fucking Her, but just as goddamn critical to Ben’s life now.

He pushed himself off of Her, rising back up to his knees and groaning at the sight of Her. Fucking glowing, goddamn ruined. Looking at Ben like he was something holy and sacred, and to Her, he was. He could feel it fucking everywhere, and taste it on his tongue as he licked his lips.

He hoped She fucking lingered there for the rest of time. That every night for the rest of his life, Ben could run a hand through his beard, and end up with his fingers fucking covered in Her. 

You fucking squirted.

She nodded, and—despite the fucking choir of Her love around Ben in the world—only moaned, reaching up for him. 

Think you can do it again? 

She whined, and Ben chuckled. 

Words, darling- 

Yes, fuck Ben, please- 

Good girl. 

She practically flew off the fucking bed as her hips jerked up, her heart stuttering with her breath. God, fuck, please- 

Ben grinned, and he could never fucking deny her anything, so he ripped his pants off, stroking himself once, twice—just to how fucking beautiful she was—and pushed himself in with a groan. He fell over Her as he bottomed out, and fuck She was perfect. Fluttering around him, fitting him like they’d been fucking designed to be as close as goddamn possible, gasping in Ben’s ear as Her hands clawed at his back. 

Ready, Sunshine? 

Just move, you ass- 

He kissed Her—bruising and demanding and made of all this fucking love for Her that consumed Ben’s whole goddamn existence—and obeyed. 

Ben didn’t think he’d ever worked harder than to memorize every single fucking part of Her. What every pout and glare and smile meant, how She said his name and every small way she existed around him—in music and movies and shows and books and the flowers in MM’s garden—and how She moved. Ben had learned Her like fucking she was a fucking testament to how he should live, and he took it goddamn seriously. It was what helped him know how to fuck Her right. How to angle himself inside her so he was hitting that spot that always made Her let out a strangled moan, how to kiss her in a fucking rhythm as he pounded himself into her, and that, if he groaned when She squeezed around him, she’d start to try and grind up into him. 

This was better than a fucking drug. This was fucking oxygen, how warm and tight she was around him, how when Ben deepened their kiss she opened up for him and scratched his back, how sensitive She was—leaning into his every touch, moaning at every muttered and growled praise—and how he could fucking feel Her. How fucking perfect She was, finally around him in every single possible way. So fucking bright, a green mist that smelled like pine and vanilla and damn strawberries covering the room as she shinedlike fucking star under Ben, Her eyes watching him like he was something good. 

Ben was something good, for Her. It lived in how he tended and adored and cared for her, and he wanted to be something that was half as fucking perfect as she was, just so she’d let him stay here for the rest of fucking time. Buried deep inside Her, his thrusts becoming stuttered as he began to lose control—no fucking idiot pussy could blame him, though, because She was squirming under him and moaning his name so I was a miracle he lasted this long—and letting every single fucking thought of Her fall out of his mouth, down her throat.

“So fucking good,” he grunted Her name. “Taking me so fucking perfect. You sound like a fucking song, look so fucking beautiful all fucked out, love you, taking me so fucking well-“

He cut himself off with a groan as her head dropped to his jaw, kissing along his beard with sinful fucking whimpers. 

“Christ, you’re a goddamn miracle, fucking made for me.” Ben pushed one hand between their bodies, rolling his hips to press against the deepest part of her as he pinched and rubbed over her clit. 

Her mouth fell open in a silent scream, Her heart hitting that frantic pace that meant she was close, and when Her hands trying to push Ben further into her he moved faster, crashing his mouth back into her and growling Her name. 

“You’re fucking perfect.” Ben’s words became fast and rough, their brows pressed together so he could see every inch of Her beautiful face, his own orgasm pushing at his restraint. “You so fucking good, darling, good to everyone, so fucking good to me. I fucking love you-“

“Ben,” Her voice was a whisper of pure fucking need that almost sent Ben over the edge. “Please-“

He kissed Her again, soft and sweet as his movements become almost feral, splitting her fucking open on his cock. Cum for me, Sunshine, say my name-

She screamed—Ben’s name lost somewhere in many high, wrecked sounds of God and fuck—and Ben let go. Driven on by Her fucking squirting over him, her pussy contracting like she was trying to really fucking kill him, Ben made one last, long thrust as he emptied himself into Her body. He waited for Her breathy, blissful sigh that meant she was happy and high on pleasure before pressing one last, soft kiss to between Her eyes, tucking hair behind her ears, and lowering himself down. Covering her body in his like he could serve as a shield from fucking everything. From the daylight and blue sky, slowing creeping over them and threatening that morning was here, and they couldn’t fucking stay here forever. From the battle they were staged to fight, where Ben would have to just be fucking silent at Her side. From every single factor that neither of them could control, from everything that might hurt Her or make her cry. Every single weak thing that dared to pretend they were worthy sharing the same air that She fucking breathed. 

And She let them stay like that. With Ben’s body likely fucking dead-weight over her, his arms wrapped around her waist as he buried his head between her breasts, her hands even moving to hold his face, tilting it up for Ben to meet her gaze. 

He scanned over her face, perfect and fucking beautiful and all fucking Ben’s. “Hi, Sunshine.” 

“Hi, Benjamin, my love.” 

She couldn’t be allowed to fucking call him that. If Ben ever wanted to be a goddamn productive member of society, She couldn’t keep calling him my love. And, Christ on a fucking cross, Benjamin, my love, was worse. That made him short circuit and practically fucking gape at Her. It repeated over and over in his head, and he probably looked like an idiot fucking pussy, just gaping at Her, but fuck She was so pretty, and happy, and Ben’s and Her Her Her, everything in him kept calling Ben home to Her. 

Ben managed to regain just enough control over his stupid fucking lovestruck body to roll them over, tugging Her down until that bright, drug-like smile was right above him, Her arms holding her a few inches away from him. 

“You’re a fucking thief,” Ben drawled Her name, and was unable to contain a dumb fucking smile from overtaking his face. It was born from Her—hair messy, fucking naked, beautiful mouth still slightly swollen and pretty eyes still so dazed from sex—being so goddamn near him. Her smell that was half wrapped in salt from sweat and Ben’s cum, Her perfect face all fucking happy above him, Her smile and love fucking intoxicating. A high Ben never had to come down from, because even as She gave him a fake pout he just got higher. 

“I am not a thief, that’s mean-“ 

“You’re fucking mean.” He grabbed Her hips, pulling them down to press against his and letting Her sit over him. “And you’re a goddamn thief. I call you my love, you stole my goddamn idea-“

She scoffed, crossing her arms and glaring down at him. “You are not the first dummy to call their person my love, Pretty Boy-“ 

“I said it first with us-“ 

“Well you don’t get a patent over it-“ 

“The fuck I don’t.” 

They were glowering at each other, and Ben knew he’d lost when a soft smile crossed her face, a sharp look glinting in her eyes. “Well then I am a thief,” She crawled back down his body, bumping their noses and kissing along Ben’s jaw. “Because it’s mine now. I call you my love, and that’s that.”

He scowled, but it was getting harder to even keep up the charade of this fake fight when She was squirming above him and his hands were bruising at Her hips. “You don’t get to just fucking take it-“ 

“Yes, I do.” 

Ben hauled Her further up his body, fully moving her to collapse over him, a high yelp leaving her as Ben kissed every single fucking inch of skin he could angle his head to find. “Fucking brat.” He grunted, rutting slightly up into Her thighs and growing harder as he felt her wetness, dripping down her thighs. “Already so goddamn needy for me again, want me to fuck you good, darling? Again?” 

She was fucking perfect. It wasn’t Ben’s own damn bias or love or something fucking pathetic—but entirely goddamn warranted, She was his life and Ben was allowed to be a little bit of a fucking pussy about her—She was just so fucking clearly perfect. She might be the only person alive who was more dirty-minded and horny than Ben, and he pitied any fucker who’d tried to keep up with Her before him. Her head ended up thrown back as she rode him, a beautiful fucking squeak leaving her when Ben took back control, grabbing Her hips and drilling up into Her until her pretty eyes rolled back and she was shaking around him. 

When he found his release with Her own—letting Her grind over his cock and scrape at his abdomen as she made sounds that were fucking music—Ben had to take a long, heavy breath to stop himself from just rolling Her over and going for round three when he saw his cum leaking and coating her thighs. 

She giggled slightly, brushing some of Ben’s hair from his eyes. 

“What-“ 

“We really do fuck like rabbits,” She said, shifting around until their legs were tangled, pulling Ben’s arms over her body. “Hughie asked if it was the supe stamina, but I think it might just be us.” 

“You talked to Hughie about our sex life-“ 

She wrinkled her nose at him. “Technically I was talking to Annie, but Hughie was forced to listen. And halfway through the story about the dishes incident, he asked if copious amounts of sex was normal for two supes.” 

It wasn’t. Ben had fucked half the female supe population before Russia, and it might as well have been juvenile dry humping compared to what he did with her. But he was still caught on the talking to Annie shit. “What the fuck else do you tell her about us-“

“Normal friend stuff,” she shrugged, leaving soft kisses along his beard as She spoke. “How much I love you, how you made me pancakes for breakfast again, how good you are with Ryan and how adorably grumpy you get when we talk about books, how I’m going to bribe you to read something with Ryan and I, and Hughie and Annie are welcome read with us-“

“You’re going to fucking bribe me-“

She continued, kissing the bridge of Ben’s nose and holding his gaze. “Usually Hughie clocks out when I start talking about how much I love your dick, though-“

Ben raised his brows at Her. “You talk about my dick with fucking Hughie? What, are you telling Butcher about my balls-“

“I would if he would listen.” She smiled, dropping back down, kissing everywhere but Ben’s fucking lips. “Benjamin, my love, if you were fucking you, you’d never shut up about it either-“ 

His eyes narrowed. “You did it again.” 

She hummed, her smile so perfectly and beautifully mocking innocence. “I don’t know what you could possibly be talking about.”

Ben snaked one hand up her back, tangling his finger in her hair and moving her back his mouth. Kissing her until she was writhing and moaning above him, a tiny whine leaving her lips when he pulled away. 

“Ben-“ 

“You’re the love of my fucking life, Sunshine, and you should know that-“ 

“I do know that,” She whispered, and Ben could fucking feel it. Spreading between them, how he was just as critical to Her as She was to him. Her piece of him so fucking strong inside of him, twined into something so deep inside of Ben’s body he’d never fucking known about it before. “I know that all the time, Ben. And I need you to know that I love you.” She sighed, wrapping her arms around his neck. “You do so much for me, and I want to give you something back-“ 

“You give me more than fucking enough-“ 

She shook her head. “I want to do more. It’s just a name, Pretty Boy. You have a million of them for me, and I’m sure you’ll come up with more.” 

Ben groaned, because he’d fucking lost this one as well. She was too fucking pretty, half-pouting up at him and loving him and so fucking happy around him, alive inside him, and Ben needed to get his fucking shit together, but he didn’t want to. This was so fucking good, and She was so goddamn perfect, and when he made a grumbling relent, her smile was so fucking bright and sweet and all for him. 

“Thank you, Benjamin, my love.” 

She kissed him one last time, and Ben needed to get better at faking a genuine scowl, because right now he goddamn knew he looked just like the fucking puppy dog She kept accusing him of being. Watching Her and trying to act like he was annoyed by this, when everything in him was just Her. Making his whole fucking life better and loving him and wanting him and being so fucking annoying and he wouldn’t change a goddamn thing. 

“We could both fucking use it-“ 

“No.” She mumbled, burying her face in his neck. “Mine.” 

And Ben couldn’t fucking argue with that. He was Hers. He was holding Her against him as they both made a completely fucking pointless attempt to properly rest in the last hour before they had to get up, watching the light start to dance over her perfect face, and he wanted to be here for the rest of his goddamn life. 

He really fucking wanted to be with Her, forever. He’d always fucking burn with her, but he wanted to just stay here. No burning, just warm and love and good. In whatever goddamn form it took, Ben just really fucking wanted Her. 

She was half-asleep, and there was a chance she wouldn’t even hear him. But Ben muttered Her name anyway, and waited for her small sound of acknowledgement, her hand squeezing his bicep in a silent signal that she was listening. 

“I love you.” 

“I love you, too-“ 

“I really fucking love you,” Ben grunted. “And we should get married. Now.” 

Her heart hitched slightly, but all she did was smile against Ben’s skin. “You’re going to have to try harder than that, my love.” 

Ben snorted slightly, and knew that he would. He’d have to make it romantic. Something that she deserved, that made every single other fucking gesture in history seem fucking stupid. There would be music and flowers—she fucking loved music and flowers—and chocolate, and maybe a horse. Ben didn’t have a goddamn clue why he’d need a horse, but those things always seemed involved in romance somehow, so he’d have to figure out where the fuck to get a horse, and how to work it in with everything else. 

But then he looked down at Her—sleeping peacefully above Ben, breath warming his neck and lips brushing over his skin—and knew she wouldn’t give a fuck about a horse. He didn’t need to make it complicated, just do it right. 

Fuck, if he tried right now—more than just a grumbled idea that made Her love spark in his head and bones—Ben could probably get it right. He could roll her over, kiss her neck, cheeks, brow, and lips, and tell Her to fucking marry me. I love you, and I love every single part of you, and I want every single part of you, and I’ll spend the rest of my fucking life proving that to you, starting now. If you let me, I’ll pick you up and we can go find a judge and do it right goddamn now. I don’t have a ring, but I’ll find one, I’ll find you whatever the fuck you want, and that will be it. You and me, for the rest of fucking time, together. 

He didn’t, though. She was, somehow, fast asleep, and Ben had no desire to wake Her. Not when her face was so relaxed, and Ben could just lay here and care for her in silence. Hold Her until he saw the clock flash 5:30, and they had to move. 

They were silent getting ready. Ben wore his supe suit, She kept his shirt on—her eyes bleary and gaze slightly unfocused as she shuffled around the room—and Ben didn’t fight her when she grabbed their suitcase. Her grip on it was white-knuckled and smoking, and even though she was probably about to do fucking everything at the meeting for everyone else, she needed to be useful. Ben knew that drawn focus, and mechanical breathing, and rapid tapping of Moon River. It was her I’m doing this, my way, and that means doing it fucking right, face. It was the one that Ben knew he could help with an arm looped through hers and a kiss on the side of Her head, promising that he was fucking there, and not going anywhere.

The rest of the team seemed to know that face by now as well. Enough so for Butcher not to make any mocking comments about how that shirt was very obviously Ben’s, Annie and Hughie not to try and engage her in boring, pointless fucking conversation, and MM to only give her a tight nod as they tossed the suitcase in the back and climbed into the limo. 

The ride was completely silent. Her head was leaned back on Ben's shoulder, her eyes closed but heartbeat fast, and her finger still tapping, faster and faster, on Ben’s arm. 

He muttered Her name between their heads, and her eyes slowly opened, her face turning to look at him.

Ben. 

You’re going to be fucking fine. 

I know- 

I’m serious, he pushed Her a little further up his body, making their eyes level. You’re going to be fucking fine. We’re going to figure this out, no matter what happens, or what the pussies decide. We’ll take care of this, together. 

She swallowed, but gave Ben a soft, reassuring smile that didn’t hit her eyes. Together. I love you. 

I love you too. Ben paused, scanning over her face. If those cumfucks ask- 

We’re dating. Her smile grew a little wider, and her fingers stilled on Ben’s skin. Or fuck-buddy-brain-connected. My vote is- 

Ben kissed Her, squeezing her body once, and Her giggle into his mouth might be the best fucking thing he’s ever heard. 

You’re not allowed to vote on what we call things. 

She fake-pouted against him. This is a democracy, Benjamin- 

No, it’s not. He grinned, nipping on her lower lip. It’s a constitutional monarchy, where you’re the fucking Queen. And the Queen isn’t supposed to vote. 

She pulled back, giving Ben a wide, amused smile he could feel something soften in his stomach. Look who paid attention in civics class. 

I paid attention to you and Ryan, not some boring fucking history teacher. I’ve told you, your boobs have magical fucking powers, Sunshine. They move when you talk and I always fucking listen.

Gross. 

You love it. 

I do. She traced a hand over Ben’s jaw, the sharp smile playing over her features lighting up the whole goddamn world. Because we’re fuck-buddy-brain-connected. 

Ben rolled his eyes. Don’t call us that. 

Can I call us that on the Ben’o’phone? 

You can do whatever the fuck you want in here, Ben held Her hand on his face, kissing her palm. But if you tell Singer that we’re fuck-buddy-brain-connected, I’m not fucking you for a week.

Her eyes narrowed. That’s a bad bluff, Pretty Boy. 

It was. Ben wouldn’t make it two fucking days before he caved, even if all She did smile and talk to him. But he kept his face set and neutral, shrugging slightly. So fucking call me on it, Sunshine. 

Her tongue peaked between her lips as she chewed, nose twitching, and she sighed. Fuck you. 

Don’t call us that shit, Ben winked. And I will. Hard, this time, until you’re rolling around and can’t feel your fucking legs. Until we finally get you to really, properly squirt, and I can fucking taste it. Ben kissed Her nose, light and teasing. I’ll fuck until we break the goddamn bed, and you’re burning down the whole goddamn building with how good I make you cum. Think you’d like that, darling? He smirked at Her slack expression, pressing his thumb between her lips and feeling his cock twitch when they parted. Think you’d want me to make you cum so fucking hard you scream my name and light up like a fucking star? Think you could be a good girl and let go when I fuck you? 

Her eyes had gone clear of glazed, grinding thought, and clouded with a lust that called Ben like a fucking siren. He was a strong man, but not strong enough for this. Things like will and resolve didn’t matter when She looked at him like that. When Her hands were curled on Ben’s arm, and her breathing was ragged in a way that made things feel right, and there was a little bit of fucking drool lining her lips. The limo was starting to be washed in a golden haze that meant she was turned on and probably fucking soaking her underwear, so nobody would be strong in this situation. Every other single asshole would want to make good on those promises, because they were to Her and she was perfect. 

Ben was either about to try and secretly fuck her in front of everyone, or try the proposal again, so or everyone’s sake, it was good they arrived within the next few seconds. If they did try to fuck the secret thing wouldn’t last a damn minute, and if Ben proposed—the right way—they’d definitely be fucking, loud and hard and wet, after. And even if Hughie and Annie had heard about how good Ben fucked Her, they still weren’t allowed to see it. 

Butcher twisted around from the front, his eyes landing on Her as he said Her name. “You’re gonna need to wear a fuckin disguise, we ain’t able to risk anyone figurin out who you are.” 

She rolled Her eyes, dramatically pulling her sunglasses out of her jacket and placing them on her face. “Good?” 

Butcher frowned, turning to Hughie. “Oi, lad. Give her your fucking cap.” 

“My-“ 

“I’ve got it.” Annie tossed Her a black baseball cap from across the limo, giving Butcher a flat, annoyed look. “Hughie doesn’t have a hat, asshole, it’s mine-“ 

“Don’t matter whose hat it is, long as she,” Butcher jerked his head to Her. “Is the one wearin it. Indoors too, Love, I ain’t lookin for Homelander to drop through the ceiling-“ 

“Keep your tits on, Butcher.” She plopped the cap on her head with another sweeping, sarcastic gesture. “Everyone ready?” 

MM nodded. “Grace is already there, so hopefully we won’t have a wait time. Everyone try to be diplomatic for once in your lives, don’t say something you don’t think over five fucking times in your head, and no weapons.” 

Everyone looked at Ben and Butcher. 

“That cunt is a bloody weapon, I’m takin my gun-“ 

“I’ll do whatever the fuck I want-“ 

“Both of you,” She glared between Ben and Butcher, voice not as loud as theirs, but with a threat of violence that made even Butcher snap his jaw closed. “Shut the fuck up. No weapons in the White House. Near the president. Ben, you are a weapon, we’ll be fine. Butcher, if you remind the fucking secret service that Ben and I are weapons, they’ll make us wait outside, and you’ll be fucked. You need me for this, I’ve put the whole thing together. Got it?”

Ben made a grumbled agreement, and Butcher scowled, pulling out at least fifty fucking guns and placing them in the passenger’s seat, glaring at Her the whole time. She gave them both a pretty, smug smile, and pulled Ben with her, out of the limo. 

As they walked through the halls of the White House, flanked by many, incredibly fucking useless secret service agents—Her hand over Ben’s, on her shoulder, warmer than usual but not smoking—Ben nudged her shoulder.

You look fucking hot when you order everyone around, Sunshine. 

She huffed a small laugh. You always think I look hot. 

Because you’re always fucking hot- 

I think. She smiled up at him, squeezing his hand. That I could eat vomit and roll in shit, and you’d still think I’m hot. 

You would be. 

I would objectively not be- 

Yes, you fucking would be. Ben kissed Her brow. You’re objectively hot all the goddamn time.

And you’re an incredibly biased party, Benjamin, my love. 

Ben almost picked her up and to fuck her on one of these stupid fancy benches in the halls. The only thing that stopped him was a secret service agent, coming to a halt in the hall with no warning. 

“Christ, you pussy-“ 

Her free hand shot up, covering Ben’s mouth. “Is this it?” 

The agent nodded, and started listing off a bunch of fucking rules that Ben didn’t care about. Not when Her eyes had gone glass-like once more, and her heart was stumbling in her chest. 

You’ve fucking got this, Sunshine. We’re going to be fine. 

I know. She let out a long, slow breath, and leaned into Ben slightly. Ready? 

Fucking born it. 

Singer was at the center of the table—in the same spot as last time—with Mallory on one side and a man Ben had never seen before on the other. 

Ben hated him. She was perfect and beautiful, and Todd Muller was a slimy-looking weasel-fuck, wearing a red tie Ben wanted to strangle him with and looking at them with gleaming eyes Ben wanted to stab. The man hadn’t even spoken, and Ben’s fists were already goddamn curling at his side. There was something in him that told Ben wrong. Bad, vile, fucking wrong, and it came from Her. When the man smiled, a crude cold smirk that made Ben feel like he’d been shoved into a fucking swamp, the warning became an alarm, and Her grip on Ben’s hand over her shoulders started to smoke.

Muller—it was fucking Muller, Mallory had made some introductions that Ben barely heard over the blood lining his every thought—wouldn’t stop looking at Her, and Ben had to fight every fucking urge in his body to just step in front of her. 

And when Muller said Her name—said it fucking wrong, with no love and only callous venom—Ben thought his jaw might crack. 

“You’re looking healthy for a dead girl.” 

“Todd.” Her voice was bored and cold, Her heart pounding like a fucking war drum. “You’re looking like a bitch ass cock guzzler.” 

Even with the tension in the air—wired and electric and set to detonate—Ben still had to cough to cover his laugh, and Muller’s eyes shot to his. 

“Soldier Boy,” a hand was extended over the table. Ben forced himself not to break it. “Big fan-“ 

“Don’t be.” Her voice was dry. “He’s a Phillies fan.” 

Brat. 

Cunt. A small smile tugged at Her lips, even as Muller’s attention returned to her. 

“You’ve been busy,” Muller said Her name again, and Ben was going to pull out his tongue. “Learning about baseball, getting your fifteen minutes of fame, never bothering to tell your mother and me that you were alive-“ 

“I’d been dead to you and Mom for years,” She shrugged. “What’s legal death to being locked out and left to fend for myself?” 

“And I see you’re still a little-“ 

“Secretary Muller.” Mallory’s voice was even and cool, and she didn’t even fucking look at Her or Ben. “We agreed to keep personal lives out of this meeting.” 

Muller’s face twitched, but he fell back into his seat, eyes still trained on Her and Ben. 

“Alright, let’s get this shit over with.” Singer nodded to the chairs before them. “Sit, so we can talk like damn adults.” 

MM cleared his throat as they all sat, nodding to a silent, bored-looking Singer. “Thank you for seeing us again, sir.”

“Don’t.” Singer sighed, rubbing at his beard. “If I don’t follow up with you dumbasses, the brit,” he jerked his head to Butcher, who winked. “Will probably start sendin death threats and bombs to my family. But I ain’t here to small talk or do fucking therapy sessions, so I’m just gonna say it.” Singer sighed, looking around the room. “You’re not gettin any V. You’ve been determined to be a liability and are being ordered to explore other avenues to eliminate Homelander.”

The shocked, angry silence only lasted a moment before the room erupted in protests. Butcher shouting about Singer being a bloody fuckin cunt idiot, MM and Annie trying to provide reason, and Hughie trying to make everyone stop yelling. 

But She was silent, watching Muller. No smoke, no screams, only a pure, horrid sense of wrong and sick in Ben’s body. 

Ben. She didn’t look at him, but squeezed his arm. Don’t freak out. 

What- 

She coughed, a tiny amount of fire escaping her mouth, the whole room erupted in clicks of guns. All fucking aimed at Her. The only thing that kept Ben only rigid and alert at Her side, instead of launching himself over her body and bashing in the brains of any pussy that dared to fire, was Her quick, sharp glance in his direction, and smooth words in his head. 

I’ve got this. 

She had this. Ben was right here, killing anyone who fired was still very much an option, and she had this. She was leaning over the table, eyes flicking between Singer, Muller, and Mallory, and she had this. 

“What exactly about us is a liability?” She asked, tilting her head in mock thought. “That would justify you refusing to provide us with the only definitive weapon against Homelander?” 

“Your team has proven reckless,” Singer held Her gaze, which was a little fucking admirable. Ben had seen fucking Butcher stop talking under that glare, and Singer didn’t even seem to have the cocky death-wish Butcher had. “Countless times. Truth-con, both of Firecracker’s rallies, Tek Knight’s club massacre, the Believe Expo, and that’s just off the top of my damn head. We’re past takin gambles that don’t pay off, and this is a massive gamble that we ain’t able to afford.“

“How so?” She blinked at Singer, her face innocent and her fingers tapping on the table. “This is not a gamble. V will incapacitate Homelander.” 

“On your word.” Muller sneered. “All we have is your word, and there’s nothing to stop you from simply taking the V for your own use.” 

She scoffed, giving Muller a bored, amused look. “That can’t possibly be your real excuse. Half of us are already supes, and the other half hate supes-” 

“I don’t hate supes-“ 

Hughie’s mumble was cut off by Mallory’s curt, snapped words. “You have all been known to make questionable moves.” 

This time, Butcher laughed. “Come off it, Grace. Questionable moves is real high and fuckin mighty from you-“ 

“I have always remained within the bounds of the law-“ 

“The law,” She drawled. “Is not the end all be all of morality. We need to kill Homelander. This will help us. There isn’t another way. So please give me one really good reason why you can’t spare one vial of V so we can eliminate the most dangerous man alive.” 

There was a beat of tight, furious silence, and then Singer stood. 

“Grace, Todd,” he flattened his suit, letting out a labored breath. “I got a fuckin country to run, deal with this. You dumbasses,” he nodded across the table to the Boys. “Are real lucky we’re still housing and entertaining you. And you,” Singer said Her name, and the whole world was lined in red. “Consider playing that role you designed for yourself, if you’re so fuckin committed to the safety of our country.” 

Ben felt his fists curl, and Butcher looked like he would’ve stood up and tackled Singer down had it not been for the countless fucking guns still trained on their heads. 

Muller cleared his throat as the door, and their last fucking hope, closed. “We have determined that the pitch comes from a non-lucid party-“ 

“Shut the fuck up, Todd.” She wrinkled Her nose, lip curling. “Just say it’s because of me, so we can all move on.” 

“You are not important enough for this call to be made in your name-“ 

“Try again.” 

“Homelander is a chronic threat of unfathomable proportion. You are not qualified to handle such a delicate situation-“

“Wrong.” She shrugged, and Ben felt like he was watching a sparring match. Muller’s face was growing more and more red, and Her breathing more mechanical, both close to snapping, but she still pushed on. “I am qualified. I have field experience, and I’m literally a doctor. And you used chronic wrong. That’s not what it means-“ 

“I do not care what it means,” Muller hissed. “You are not stable or reliable, and we will not put the most dangerous drug in history into the hands of an over-emotional girl.” 

The table cracked under Ben’s hands, and something fucking dangerous crossed over Her face. 

“Oh, fuck.” MM muttered, leaning back in his chair and running a hand over his face as the air of the room started to wave in the heat. 

“So,” Her words were slow, wrathful. “You are risking America, risking the fucking world, because you think I’m the same unstable teenager I was thirteen fucking years ago.” 

Muller didn’t waver. “I believe you are the same girl you were because you are spoiled and believe you are owed something from the world. We are not a weapons bank-” 

“I am not owed V, it’s the only weapon to hold down Homelander that we have!” Her voice was growing louder, the room crackling with heat. “I want to kill my fucking abuser, that’s not spoiled-“ 

“And she’s helped us!“ Annie jumped in, glaring at Muller. “She’s not spoiled, she’s made a lot of the hard calls-“ 

“Starlight,” Mallory muttered, shooting Annie a look. “Drop it.” 

“No, Mallory! This is insane, you can’t think this is the best choice-“ 

“This is the president’s call-“ 

Butcher let out a cold, angry laugh. “You ain’t ever been this much of a bureaucratic bitch before, Grace-“

“Times are changing, Butcher-“ 

“And Grace here,” Muller gave Mallory a cold smirk. “Still wants to be in the running for the sweet VP spot. So now isn’t the time to disagree with Mr. President.” 

MM gaped at Mallory. “Are you being serious, Grace-“

“Oh, she is,” Muller turned his grin to the team. “And she’s still trying to make up ground for letting her two most dangerous and unreliable weapons,” his twisted gaze turned to Her and Ben. “Fall in love. What did you drug him with,” Muller sneered Her name. “To get Soldier Boy to follow you like a weak fucking baby?” 

Ben still had to let Her handle it. Even as he felt so fucking cold, physically restraining himself from launching across the table at Muller, he had to let Her handle it. 

“Ben isn’t weak, or a baby.“ She lifted her chin at Muller, and Ben swore he saw something fucking spark in the air. “And I’m not like you, Todd. I don’t need to offer someone something for them to love me.” A cold, hollow smirk played across Her lips. “Tell Mom I say hi, by the way.” 

Muller’s eyes narrowed. “You whoring little bitch-“ 

That was fucking it. Fuck letting Her handle it, that was the fucking line. 

Ben shot to his feet, letting the table crack further under his fist, and Muller’s words faded off. 

“Don’t ever fucking speak to her like that again in your pathetic, pussy life,” Ben growled. “Or I’ll fucking kill you.”

“Soldier Boy-“ 

Ben ignored MM’s low warning. “And you should count yourself real fucking lucky, because otherwise I’d break your fucking skull right goddamn now.” 

Muller cleared his throat, and a flash of fear crossed his face. “Careful, Soldier Boy.” Muller said, voice less smug and assured as he straightened his already too-straight tie. “Or we’ll find some Agent Orange and put you back in the box, and she won’t have anyone to do her dirty work.”

Ben could hear the fucking drums. He hadn’t heard the drums like this in months, but they were pounding in his head. Not from Muller—he could throw his against the wall and crack his spine without a thought—but from the thought of leaving Her alone. Failing Her again, leaving Her and Ryan to fight Homelander alone. And the drums beat with the knowledge that She’d burn herself out to wake Ben up, and he could never fucking let that happen- 

“You won’t get near him,” She hissed. “Or I’ll burn your dick off, and your fancy house down. And you,” Her wrath turned to Mallory, her words measured and toxic. “Are fucking pathetic. You know this is the wrong call, and you’re just letting it happen. Actually do something to kill Homelander, or deal with the consequences of him being alive.” 

She stood, looping Her arm through Ben’s. We need to leave, now. 

We’re not going fucking anywhere without the V- 

Ben. Her voice was firm in his head, and Ben realized her heart had slowed. Trust me. 

“Oi, where are you-“ 

“We’re done here,” She announced over Butcher, giving the team sharp, pointed looks. “Thank you,” She gave Mallory and Muller a too sweet, toxic smile. “For absolutely fucking nothing.” 

The rest of their team exchanged confused looks, their mouths opening and closing in protest, but She was on a strange sort of warpath. Pulling Ben behind Her into the hall, barely looking back to see their team scramble up as she turned to face Ben. 

Take my phone.

What the fuck are you- 

We’re not getting the V, Muller is the leak. 

How do you- 

He said Agent Orange. You told me Frenchie used that for his gas, that Sage based Hers on. Nobody except the Boys, Homelander, and Sage know that. It’s him. But we’ll be fine, you just need to play the music-

How the goddamn Christ is music going to help-

Neuman said they had a backup of V, that isn’t under the pentagon's control. I’m going to find it, and I need you to play a song, any song, really fucking loud. Don’t stop until I tell you to. Please. 

Ben nodded, putting Her rapid word in order in his own head. They didn’t have the V. There was more V, that wasn’t under the pentagon’s—Muller’s—control. She needed him to play music. Ben could defiantly fucking play music. 

He took Her phone, and she glanced behind him as their team stumbled into the hall. 

“Love, we ain’t fuckin done here-“ 

“Listen to me, Butcher.” Her voice was controlled and firm, and Ben glanced up from her phone to see that sharp, almost hazardous focus in her eyes. “We need to go now. I need to have my back here, please.”

Butcher blinked, and—by some fucking miracle—nodded. “Let’s bloody get a move on, then.” 

“Butcher-“ 

“Nah, Mate.” Butcher cut off MM with a shrug, sticking his hands in his pockets. “We ain’t gettin shit out of those cunts. Let’s cut our losses and move.” 

“That’s,” Annie frowned, watching Butcher carefully. “Uncharacteristically forgiving of you-“

“What can I say, I’m a changed fuckin man. Let’s go.” 

MM, Annie, and Hughie exchanged looks, but before they could protest further, Ben felt Her bump his shoulder, her eyes fixed behind him. 

Now. 

He didn’t think about what he was playing, because it didn’t fucking matter. It was fucking loud, and it caused the team to jump slightly and give him odd looks, but She nodded. And that’s what fucking mattered. 

And then She fucking vanished, like she had at Red River. Something rushed through Ben’s body—indescribable and elusive and not wrong but strange—the world practically stuttered, and She was gone. 

Annie’s mouth fell open. “Where-“ 

“Oh, shit.” Hughie looked over at Ben, his voice muffled by the blasting vocals and drums and guitar. “She’s-“ 

Ben didn’t want to talk over the music. He didn’t understand how this weird fucking power of Hers worked—She’d explained it a few times, and he’d still gotten lost in Her pretty eyes and big words—and now wasn’t the time to pull experiments with it. So, he just gave Hughie a sharp nod, and waited. 

Butcher didn’t seem phased by this in the goddamn slightest, looking around the hall and rolling his eyes before starting for the exit. 

A secret service agent blocked his path, and an argument started about turning off the music and where is the sixth member of your party—MM grunted something about the bathroom, and they seemed to buy it—but Ben didn’t fucking hear any of it. She was taking too long, there wasn’t any telling where the fuck She’d gone, and Ben could feel Her tugging him with the Pigeon instinct—he was worried out his damn mind, and She’d never get to know he’d called it that—from deep in the building. 

Then She started drawing closer, back to Ben, and the instinct started to grow electric and feral. She was closer, and something felt sick, and he should just fuck this and go fucking find her- 

She was walking down the hallway, and, without a word, looped Her arms through Ben’s. 

Go. 

Ben didn’t stop playing the music—despite the many people in suits glaring at him—as She half-marched down the hall. Her face was too neutral, almost statue-like, and she still wasn’t speaking. Ben could swear he could hear Her fucking singing, like a ghost or phantom on the wind, but Her mouth was closed. 

They made it out. The rest of their team still looked tense and confused, and She was still being so fucking weird, but they’d made it the fuck out. Ben knew She was with them—he could feel Her humming and taut somewhere in his head—but she still didn’t speak. 

Butcher started driving, and when they crossed the lines out of DC, Ben finally felt a tug of his arm. 

Off. 

When the song stopped and Ben looked back to Her, tucked against his side, her eyes were far away, and he could hear Her fucking brain moving. 

“You gonna bloody explain whatever the fuckin hell you just pulled-“ 

“Drive, Butcher.” She snapped, eyes still glazed over. “Fast.” 

The ride was silent for another ten minutes. The didn’t have the V. They were out of fucking options, and they still had to figure out the Cornucopia, and they were fucked- 

Ben. 

He glanced down at Her, and found her staring at him. What- 

I got it. 

You- 

I followed Mallory and Muller to the oval office, which is like, really small by the way- 

Ben grunted Her name, trying to keep her perfect, too fast mind on one track. What the fuck did you get. 

The location. Of the executive V. It’s in a warehouse in Boston. 

Ben nodded slowly. So let’s go fucking get it. 

We need to deal with Edgar first. She sighed, leaning her head on his shoulder. No loose ends. We can’t get this wrong. 

She squeezed Ben’s hand—resting on her waist—and cleared her throat. 

Ben frowned. You’re telling them- 

Everything. “Butcher, pull over.” 

“We’re on the fuckin freeway-“ 

“So find a rest stop or take the next exit.” 

Ben could hear Butcher’s sigh, but the ass wasn’t stupid enough to keep arguing—not when Her tone was so flat and forceful, her face painted in a tight, resolved look—so they were parked within two minutes. 

“Can I, uh,” Hughie coughed. “I need to go to the bathroom-“ 

“Hold it, lad.” Butcher twisted in his seat, shooting Her a glare. “The fuck was all that-“

“I’m going to talk, and you’re all going to listen. No talking until I’m done.” She looked around the team, leaning forward. “Got it?” 

They got some nods and mumbled agreements—everyone glancing at Ben’s set, purposefully unreadable face like he had shit to say—and She let out a long, heavy breath. Ben’s hand moved to Her thigh, steadying her heart a little further, and she began. 

“We have a leak. I caught it when we met with Edgar, who’s probably doing some cloak and dagger double-agent bullshit, because he knew stuff only Sage and Homelander would know. And I wasn’t sure, but then Ashley jumped ship and confirmed it-“ 

Annie blinked. “Ashley-“ 

“Jumped ship.” She snapped, fingers tapping on Ben’s hand. “At Red River. Don’t get mad at Hughie, I told him to keep it quiet while we were in DC. Ashley’s staying with Neuman, and they’ve both confirm that there’s a leak in either the government or CIA. It’s the government, because it’s Muller. I don’t,” She sighed, chewing on her lips. “I don’t know what the fuck Muller is doing, or what Sage promised him to flip, but it’s him. It’s probably the real reason why we didn’t get the V, but it’s fine. I,” She reached into her jacket, pulling out a folded up piece of paper. “Fixed it. Neuman told me there was an off-site stash of V for the government. Off the books, probably part of a deal for the government to help fund Red River. And I’ve got its location.” She leaned forward, passing the paper over to Annie. “Boston docks warehouse. We’ll need to take care of Edgar first, but that’s it. That’s our shot.” 

The limo was silent as MM and Hughie leaned over Annie’s shoulders, all three of them reading the paper—likely just some fucking evidence—and Butcher scowled at the air. 

“So,” Butcher drawled. “All we gotta do is go to Boston, nab some fuckin V from the federal government, and we’re bloody golden and set?” 

“Unless we fuck up,” She shrugged. “Yeah. And we can clean up Muller and Ashley after, but I think we need to clear Edgar first. He’s actually dangerous, and I’m not sure if he’s playing us or Sage. Muller’s just an idiot, and Ashley’s out of the picture for now.” 

“All she told you was there was a leak?” MM looked up from the paper with a frown. “Nothing else?” 

“She recorded Sage. And if she’s trying to infiltrate us, I burned out her tracker and she doesn’t have her phone. Neuman will keep an eye on her, and she won’t get anywhere close enough to us to get useful information for Sage.” 

“And how do you know Muller is the leak-“ 

“Butcher,” She cut off MM with a sigh. “What did Frenchie use to make the gas, when you met with Homelander and Sage in January?” 

Butcher frowned, something flashing in his eyes. “Agent Orange.” 

She nodded, and turned to Hughie and Annie. “And what did Sage base her gas on?” 

“Oh, God.” Annie shook her head, realization flashing in her eyes. “That’s not good-“ 

“What gas does Sage have?” MM grunted, looking around the limo. “None of you motherfuckers mentioned gas-“ 

“It’s against me,” Ben grunted, and felt Her hand cover his, still on her leg. “Homelander tried to use it during the tower fight. Pussy said Sage designed it after Frenchie’s.” 

“And only we know that,” Hughie mumbled. “Us and Vought. Shit-“ 

“That’s how I know it’s Muller,” She muttered. “And that’s how I know this is it. The V is there,” She nodded to the paper, slightly crumpled in Annie’s hands. “And we’re going to get it.” 

There was another moment of silence, broken by Butcher once more.

“That it, Love?”

 She nodded. “That’s it. We’re fucking finishing this.”

End Note: For such a stoic and emotionally stunted character, all of the Ben centric chapters sure do contain a lot of emotion.

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[dunmeshistash]

I've been having a bunch of ideas kinda float around my mind like little screensavers that I didn't feel like putting on paper, but one of these ideas just so happened to hit a corner, and it gave me an idea for what might perhaps be a bit of a silly (and oddly specific) question, but one I was very interested in asking nonetheless. Especially after reading your long post on the Demon's perspective of Laios' backstory. I really hope you don't mind.

While my memory's a tad blurry on how the scene played out in detail, I still find Laios' confrontation with the demon to be one of my favorite scenes. Definitely top 5. It's the one where Laios secretly orders Izutsumi to execute him at the slightest hint of suspicion. That one. I think that scene is among my favorites because it's both a perfect demonstration of Laios' remarkable cleverness hidden underneath all that lack of social skills, but it's also the perfect demonstration of how utterly terrifying the demon is.

At first I was under the assumption that Laios had it all under control, but the Demon's frighteningly gentle with how he twists Laios' very thoughts in a way that frames him as some sort of misanthropist, and the Winged Lion's words seemingly foil whatever plan Laios may have had. It made me think that Laios had failed, and Izutsumi's orders to lob his head off may have been a fail safe because he didn't know if he could successfully thwart the Demon's plans.

However, after finishing the story, extras, etc; I started thinking that perhaps failing was all part of Laios' plan, too. At least partially. Perhaps he realised that the only way to outsmart and ultimately best the Demon, was to let the Demon win. Perhaps he concluded that the only way for him to stand a chance against the Demon was to lose, to be at the Demon's mercy, to have his words utterly twisted; because he couldn't just make the demon "think" he had won. The only way for the Demon, the embodiment of hunger, to think he had won, was for him to actually win.

Maybe he ordered Izutsumi to… how do you put it… "artificially shorten his lifespan" because he knew the Demon would use his love for monsters against him, and would manipulate him into wishing to become the Ultimate Strongest Monster. His recent addendum (that the Ultimate Strongest Monster can eat desires) seems to support this theory, if I remember correctly. However, I can't remember for certain. Maybe his plan was to trap the Demon in his body and kill it that way? I genuinely can't remember.

So, I was wondering if you'd be interested in answering this oddly specific and mildly stupid question: How much of Laios' interaction with the Demon was planned, and how much was him fucking around and finding out? I'd love to know your thoughts on this!

PS: Laios rocks the swag he dons as king. Would happily serve under him. PPS: I hope you have a wonderful rest of your week, Mr. Morbius! Thank you for this awesome blog. You're cool.

Hello!!!!! Yeah!!!!!! The question Kabru himself would rather not know!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Same as Kabru I decided not to think too hard about but Kui definitely gave us hints that this could be the case, I don't think Laios "planned" to fail from the start, he strikes me as a very optimistic guy (as you can see with how he first thought the confrontation with Thistle could go and how he STILL tried to talk to him instead of fighting) but I think he did "prepare" somewhat for the worst case scenario, hoping for the best but preparing for the worst?

Like I don't think this part of his plan was a misdirection I think he really hoped it could be this simple? So this was plan A (although he realizes this is too optimistic I think he hopes it will work)

This part tho I'm pretty sure was partly a misdirection for his teammates, since he asks them to help him get his mind back only to tell Izutsumi to kill him at the smallest hint he lost his mind, so I think this was plan B as in "If I become the lord of the dungeon kill me so there's no more dungeon lord" which was the original canary plan

Which again is kinda confirmed by this thought bubble

I think this was plan C

He knew he no longer wished for a country where humans and monsters could coexist (because of what he saw) so I guess he had *some* idea that becoming a monster was his other wish and added that as a fail safe if plan A and B failed? I don't think he could have guessed the Demon would use his body but maybe he thought he could use the nature of the demon against him (granting his desire to become a monster even tho the monster can eat him)

As Marcille and Kabru realize tho, that might all be a coincidence and he really thought plan A or B would work lmao. WHO KNOWS Laios' mind is a mystery

I'd recommend rereading chapter 88 if you want to go thru Laios' whole plan and how the demon manipulated him, it's a great chapter (87 too with the demon origin story)