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buckiverse · 5 months ago

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Surrender to You

☆--- paring: sylus x reader

☆--- summary: You suggested a reluctant marriage of convenience due to your struggles in the N109 Zone. Now Sylus, will show you what it truly means to surrender both body and heart to him.

☆--- word count: 6.2k

☆--- warnings: mdni, oral sex, mating press, missionary, bit of background story (not really lore accurate), reader is a virgin, soft!dom sylus, size kink if you squint, sylus is in love fr, no protection is used (wrap it before you tap it)

☆--- a/n: the amount of time it took me to edit this was a bit ridiculous

The N109 Zone has danger lurking throughout it. From the darkest alleys to the stores, they all had one thing in common: The prioritization of information. That is your current motivation. You need more information and quick. Since the death of your beloved family members, you could no longer be complacent. It’s been hard being left in the dark. You thought you could trust the hunter’s association to be honest with you, but that was a lie.

You asked around a lot… from your hunting partner, Xavier, to your colleague Tara and even your boss, Jenna. No one could answer you honestly. Most of them barely “knew” what the N109 Zone was besides the fact that it was perilous. But that much was obvious.

You took to your own devices, relying on your resourcefulness. You looked online and did intensive research. All you could find out was that a significant catastrophe had transpired... Wander's took over, something to do with the state of protocores, resulting in a significant division between city areas. As a result, the sub-city known as the N109 Zone was established. You could not explain why, but you were sure it was due to the deaths of your parents, as well as your grandmother and childhood friend.

Initially, the plan was to invade the area, get information, meet some people, and decipher everything while remaining incognito. Unfortunately, it didn’t go that way. You were kidnapped by the most prominent organization in the N109 Zone, Onyichinus. Run by… Sylus? “Yeah, who the hell was that?” you thought aloud. You had never heard of this dude; I mean Onyichinus... Yes. But, even the Hunter’s Association defined the organization as faceless. It was an arduous task to uncover the head of the unit.

So that is how you ended up here, making a bargain with the devil. The other factions in the area had been restless since discovering your Protocore Syndrome. It was considered a hot commodity. Everywhere you turned, there was danger. This made your job to find the truth more difficult. As a result, you only partially appreciated Sylus's presence.

“Look, all I want is some information,” you said. Your eyes narrowed as you took in Sylus’s figure.

“Ah, is that so? And what exactly do you want to know? Everything comes with a price.” he replied. His head tilted slightly, a slight smirk forming on his lips.

You thought carefully, considering your following response. “It’s not your business; just know that intelligence on Protocore Syndrome has spread, and it’s impossible to handle business. So I’d like to make a deal.”

“And what would that be?” Sylus reacted with amusement.

You replied swiftly, not missing a beat. “We should marry,” you responded confidently.

Sylus arched an eyebrow, his eyes flashing with something, almost a mix of interest and amusement– that smug bastard, you thought. You attempted to hide your scour; you needed this more than you needed to get one over on the gray-haired man.

“And how does this deal benefit me?”

“That’s for you to decide and for us to discuss,” you acknowledged. A great silence overcame the room of Sylus's office. You stared at him, holding your resolve, waiting for a reply.

“Deal”, he replied suddenly. You disguised your surprise, sticking out your right hand to shake his. “Good then.” You said, recovering swiftly.

“I will handle the guests; you handle the small planning details. Utilize Luke, Kieran, and my card.” Your thoughts were threatened by disbelief. The ease with which he was complying with this was astounding. You wondered, honestly, what Sylus gets out of the arrangement. You told yourself it's nothing to do with you. Finding the truth is what matters; this is only one more step to complete your goal.

☆---

The venue you chose was stunning. The ceiling mirrored the most beautiful mosaics. The depictions of gods and angels were magnificent. You had never seen something so gorgeous. You reflected on the story presented in the ceiling. What would your life be like under this 'arrangement'? This was serious. It was real and binding. You were having second thoughts, wondering if the information was worth it all. But you encouraged yourself, "Of course, it’s worth it, y/n! How can you live the rest of your life without knowing the truth?” you affirmed aloud, looking around the venue. Everything felt real now. It's only been a few weeks at the Onyichinus base, but it has been productive intel-wise.

Moving on through your tour, you looked straight ahead at the expansive hall where the ceremony would occur. It was covered in intricate detail. The mosaic patterns worked down the walls, creating various shapes of circles and rectangles in its stead. In front of the walls was a white display of roses. The flowers were delicately spread throughout the venue, covering the reflected pattern on the marble floors. You moved your feet, looking to where the audience would be. Your heart plummeted when you realized you would only know Sylus, Luke, and Kieran. "It is just business, y/n," you said to yourself, adjusting your expression.

You truly outdid yourself; aside from the grandeur of the ceiling and walls, the remainder of the venue echoed the luxurious color schemes of white and black, with gold touches throughout. It was beautiful, but it was purely professional. Despite the vibrancy around you, you could not help but feel the sterility of the place. You kept your guard up, even to yourself. This is a warzone, and you have allowed Sylus to invite danger.

As you walked to the reception area, you could not help but admire the luxurious atmosphere. The black marble floors mirrored the massive tree in the center of the room. Chandeliers dangled from the strong branches, illuminating the space. You wandered around the white gold seats and tables, admiring the centerpieces. A glass foundation supported large bouquets of white roses in the center of the table. Each table had the right tableware and a black tablecloth folded into black swans. Reminding you of the rationale for your decision, you must persevere to achieve actual change.

You looked up as you approached the grand double doors at the end of the hall and noticed Sylus watching you silently. "I trust you managed the guest list," you remarked, jerking out of your thoughts. “Of course, sweetie. Only the most important people. Though I did include a few surprises—what is a wedding without some fun?" he quipped. You rolled your eyes at that. Why is he always insisting on pet names? This is not meant to be authentic.

“This is supposed to be a business arrangement, Sylus. ‘Fun’ wasn't exactly part of the plan.” You sighed harder than you wanted to, and Sylus simply responded with a slight smirk and laughter.

“Whatever you say… sweetie.” He then turned and made his way out of the wedding venue, leaving you standing there in shock. “Well–are you coming? Assuming you’re hungry, should I let you continue standing there looking lost?” You felt your face flush.

“Fine,” you said, quickly moving through the grand double doors. You slipped outside, watching as Sylus opened the car door for you.

☆---

A few days later, you found yourself in the venue's dressing room, staring yourself down. “This is fucking crazy,” you exclaimed. The realization struck once more: this is happening.

You were wearing the most stunning gown. It was covered in thousands of tiny diamonds, sewn individually into the dress. The neckline reminded you of a wide v-neck as it rested between the valley of your breasts. Pushing them out just enough–you looked amazing. The dress was perfectly fitted to your curves, and you turned to admire your backside, noticing the cutout of the dress. The fabric rested just above the crack of your ass, but you could not help but admire your good looks.

‘One thing Sylus definitely can provide is unlimited money,’ you laughed out loud. Turning back to face yourself, you admired the mermaid bottom of the dress accentuating your curvy body. You felt like a whole new person.

Your swirling thoughts were cut short by the knocking on the door. “Yes?” you replied, swiftly turning towards the sound. Luke and Kieran opened the door and made their entrance. "Wow," they said in unison. "You look so beautiful, y/n!" Luke said. "The boss will undoubtedly love this dress on you," Kieran remarked. "And off," Luke added, getting pushed in the arm by Kieran. Your cheeks warmed at the statement; you had not considered consummating the marriage.

Because once again, this is business, you convinced yourself. Even though Sylus is beautiful, his eyes, nose, and plump lips… “Anyway, this note is from the boss. We’ll see you out there, y/n,” said Kieran. You took the note from him and watched as they both walked out.

A shudder ran down your spine as you held the note in your palm. You looked up to see Mephisto, who "cawed" at you as he flew through the open door.

“He’s probably running to tell Sylus I got his note,” you commented, side-eyeing the door. The note had a red wax seal on the front of the black envelope. You opened it, and a little pop revealed the white note. You pulled it out with shaking hands.

“I promised you forever, and I don't break my promises.”

You felt your face flushing by the second. This note was so sudden, so why did it feel like he was talking about something deeper than these words reflected? You ran your hands over the words on the page, interrupting your thoughts, and you heard your song start.

“You can do this, y/n,” you said, leaving the dressing room. Now is where the real work begins.

You stood at the end of the aisle and looked around. You recognized some of the biggest names in the N109 Zone. At least Sylus kept that promise, you thought. The piano rang the most angelic symphony, bringing emotion forth in you.

You began your walk, stride confident, keeping your head high. Sylus stared at you, his smile widening as you worked your way before the steps. He reached down, grabbed your hand, helping you up the steps to the altar. The officiant began to address the crowd, but it felt like it was just you and Sylus. Why was he looking at you like that? You pondered.

“I’ve waited for this moment longer than you know,” Sylus whispered for only your ears to hear. You cocked your head slightly, you were going to ask what he meant by that, but the officiant addressed Sylus, stating the vows, “Do you take y/n to be your wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward.” Sylus’s red eyes flickered as he looked down at you. “For better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and health, to love and to cherish, ‘til death do you apart?”

"I do," Sylus responded, his big hands attempting to secure the large rock to your finger. Your eyes watered slightly at the sight. Why is this so intense, you wondered, as the officiant recited the vows to you. Of course, you responded with an "I do."

“You may kiss the bride.”

Your heart skipped a beat. Sylus didn't hesitate. He stepped closer to you, his hand reaching out to cup the side of your face, his thumb grazing your cheek. His touch was gentle but possessive, almost telling you that now you’re his.

He kissed you firmly but slowly and deliberately. Sylus doesn't rush his kiss with you, almost like he is savoring the moment. The way his lips moved against yours sent warmth coursing through you, pulling you deeper just for a moment.

For a second, you hesitated, thinking you should pull away and make distance. But then Sylus slid his hand around your neck, pulling you closer and deepening your kiss. And you went with it, kissing him back, slowly at first and then increasing the intensity.

The world around you faded. It felt like it was just the two of you. Allowing the kiss to linger on longer than it should have. When Sylus pulled away, his lips parted slightly, and you felt his warm breath against your skin. He whispered just for you to hear:

“If you wanted more, sweetie, all you had to do was ask.”

You felt your chest tighten, and you swallowed hard at his statement. You hated that he could make you feel like this. You forced yourself to look away. “Don’t get used to it,” you muttered quickly, knowing your heart raced at the kiss you shared.

Sylus smirked while looking into your eyes. “We’ll see about that.”

☆---

The reception truly went off without a hitch. Some people you’ve never met made elegant speeches, wishing for happiness and prosperity. This was so fake you fought the urge to roll your eyes at the theatrics displayed before you. You glanced at Sylus, admiring his features as the current speaker discussed alliances and protections.

When Sylus leaned into your ear, “Is my face more interesting than the speech, sweetie?”

You rolled your eyes at him and returned your attention to the speaker. “He’s so cheeky,” you thought. Despite your harsh admissions, you secretly enjoyed his playfulness. It made this whole ordeal feel lighter.

After serving food and drinks, Sylus walked you around the room. The reception hall buzzed with conversation. The guests mingled about discussing business deals disguised as casual conversation. Sylus worked the room effortlessly. His hand rested on the small of your back, sending tingles up your spine as he made contact with your bare skin.

“Ah, there you are,” Sylus said smoothly, flashing a charming smile. “I want you to meet Mr. Blackthorne. He’s one of the key players in the project we’ve been discussing.”

Mr. Blackthorne turned to face you, offering a firm handshake. His gaze lingered over you, measuring you up. You returned the handshake, nodding politely. “It’s a pleasure,” you said.

Truthfully, your mind was already wandering. The prospects of the evening had been exhausting. The smiling and pretending were weighing on you, and Sylus’s insistence on blurring the lines between you wasn't helping. Focusing was so hard your mind constantly drifted back to the kiss you shared just hours before.

Mr. Blackthorne spoke about contacts, future meetings, and something else—but you couldn't tell what. Your eyes continued to drift around the room, searching for a distraction. You tried your hardest to avoid looking at the white-haired man beside you.

After a few moments, Mr. Blackthore excused himself. “I hope you both enjoy the rest of your evening. We'll be in contact soon, " he said, nodding and walking away.

A smile became present on Sylus’s face. “Sweetie, I think you missed that entire conversation,” He teased, his voice amused. “I could see it on your face—completely checked out. What were you thinking about, hmm?”

Your face heated instantly, and you shot him a sharp look. “I was listening.”

“Really?” Sylus raised an eyebrow, leaning in slightly, his voice dropping to a hushed murmur. “It looked to me like your mind was somewhere else entirely. Let me guess… still thinking about that kiss at the altar?”

Your eyes widened at his assertion. “It was just a kiss, Sylus,” you said curtly.

He chucked at your discomfort, “Sure if you say so. But next time, you might want to pay more attention when I introduce you to someone important. We wouldn’t want them thinking you’re too distracted by your new husband to focus on business, now would we?”

Your pulse quickened the way he said, “Husband.” “I’ll try to keep that in mind,” you shot back. You felt like a firecracker inside.

Sylus grinned at you. “Good. Because I have a feeling I’m going to be keeping your attention quite a bit from now on, " he said, grabbing your hand as another guest approached the two of you. The conversation was a perfect invitation to shift your mind from his teasing.

The wedding ended quickly after that. When you looked up, you felt that the wedding had ended, and you were in the backseat of an old luxury car, staring directly at Sylus. The mood was slightly lighter than at the wedding, yet it felt heated. And he could not take his gaze away from you; he was blatantly checking you out, making the ride seem shorter.

“You planned the perfect wedding, but tonight is where the real deal begins, sweetie,” Sylus suggested. The driver maneuvered the luxury car to the massive private gateway of the Onyichinus base. The base itself was vast and Gothic. You had never really stopped to appreciate the building's grandeur before. You reminded yourself that this was only temporary.

Entering the gate revealed a primarily gray and black building spanning at least a few hundred acres. The arches rested so high in the sky that they broke through the beautiful tranquility of sunset. Large windows, elegant arches, detailed carvings, and the crow resting at the highest peak of the building. How had you not realized the beauty of this place amidst the chaos of the N109 Zone?

Distracting you from your realizations, Sylus reached for your hand, pulling you out of your thoughts and the car. This felt different now. Sylus led you into the great corridors, walking for what seemed like miles. You walked through the two doors into Sylus's bedroom.

The room was dimly lit, and soft candlelight cast shadows across it. The wedding had been a blur, but now the evening had ended. It was just the two of you.

His room smelled so fucking good. A simple vanilla musk? But it was so amazing that you wanted to bury your face in his sheets. You heard the doors click behind you, bringing you to the present. Sylus leaned his upper back against the oak doors, his giant chest moving up and down, the only sound in the room being your breathing.

“You’re safe with me, no matter what,” he said, moving off the door and towards you, standing by his bed. Your heart pounded in your chest; it felt so loud that it drowned out the silence. You knew this moment might come, but now you stood before Sylus.

“You’re nervous,” he said softly, his voice lower now, less playful than it had been all evening.

You swallowed, and your throat felt tight. You didn’t know what to say. The air had a thick, unspoken tension. This was supposed to be part of the deal—another step in this arrangement. But now you feel vulnerable in front of him.

Sylus stepped closer, his movements slow and deliberate, giving you time to feel every bit of space he closed between you two. His hand came up, gently brushing your hair out of your face. The touch was tender, and it made your breath hitch.

“You don’t have to be,” he murmured, his thumb lightly grazing your jawline, tipping your chin upwards so your eyes met his. “I’m not in a rush.”

Your chest tightened. You knew Sylus for his confidence, his teasing—proficiency at getting under your skin—but now, there was something different in his eyes. A softness you didn't know he possessed.

“I—I don’t know what to expect,” you admitted, your voice almost a whisper. You felt so exposed; your inexperience was so evident. It was increasingly hard to maintain your usual composure.

His smile was slow, warm, knowing. “You think too much, sweetie.”

He leaned down, brushing his lips against yours—not demanding, not forceful, just soft and testing. The kiss was meant to calm you and reassure you, yet you found yourself responding. He slid his hand to the back of your neck, slightly deepening the kiss.

When he pulled back, Sylus’s red eyes searched for yours. “Tell me if you want to stop,” he said, his voice quieter, more serious now.

You bit your lip, your heart still racing. You were nervous, but some of you also wanted to trust him. How he looked at you, and his touch sent sparks through your skin… you wanted him.

“I don’t want to stop,” you admitted, barely loud enough for him to hear.

He kissed you again, but this time with more intensity, his lips moving against yours with a deliberate, intoxicating rhythm. Each brush of his mouth sent a warm shiver through you, and instinctively, you rose onto the tips of your toes, your hands pressing against his chest as if to steady yourself. His heart beat strong and steady beneath your fingertips, grounding you as your pulse raced.

The kiss deepened, his tongue softly parting your lips in a request for more. You hesitated only momentarily, then parted them, inviting him in. His tongue brushed against yours, teasing and coaxing, his every movement confident and controlled. It was overwhelming and perfect, a mix of dominance and tenderness that left you breathless.

Sylus pulled back slightly, his breath warm against your swollen lips. He was grinning now, his eyes dark with desire and amusement. “Why don’t you let me help you with this?” His voice was a low murmur, and before you could respond, his hands slid to your waist, his fingers curling possessively around your hips.

With a slow, deliberate motion, he turned you, his body pressing against yours from behind. Your back pressed to his chest, and your breath hitched as you realized what he was doing. He had positioned you in front of a mirror. Your wide eyes met your reflection, and you could see Sylus’s smirk in the glass, his gaze fixed on you with a heat that made your skin tingle.

“Look at yourself,” he whispered in your ear, his lips brushing against your neck as his hands moved to the fabric of your dress. “So beautiful when you’re nervous.” His fingers began to undo the delicate fastening at the back, his movements slow, deliberate, as if he was savoring every second.

The sight of him undressing you in the mirror, the way he watched your every reaction, sent a thrill through you that you couldn’t entirely suppress. You felt vulnerable and exposed, but there was something undeniably magnetic about the way he controlled the moment, making it impossible for you to look away from the reflection of your shared desire.

Sylus leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your bare shoulder as your dress began to loosen under his touch. “Let me show you how good this can be,” he murmured, his voice a silken promise that sent heat pooling low in your stomach.

And as his hands continued their slow, teasing exploration, you realized you were already too far gone to resist. His movements caused the straps of your dress to loosen, but you held the fabric against your chest, not letting it fall.

He pressed soft kisses against your earlobe. “Let it fall,” he commanded tenderly. Your breath hitched at his command, but you complied, allowing the dress to fall forward, revealing your nipples.

“Beautiful,” he said. Reaching his large hands to cup your breasts. Sylus pulled your body back till you were flush against his broad chest. He was moving his hands to play with your nipples. He rubbed them softly, allowing them to harden between his fingers and tugging them forward firmly. He watched your reaction in the mirror as your face contorted slightly to tug your bottom lip between your teeth.

He grinned, removing his hands from your nipples to the back of your neck. He dragged his middle finger down to just above your ass, where the fabric of the dress ended. You tilted your head slightly at the movement of his hands. You missed the warmth of his hands on your nipples, but you didn't dare ask for them back as you wanted to see what he was doing next.

Suddenly, you heard the hidden zipper opening the rest of your dress. You stepped forward out of the dress just in panties, turning around to fully face Sylus. “You’re so beautiful,” Sylus murmured, a satisfied smile playing on his lips as he gazed down into your eyes. He pulled you in for a soft, lingering kiss—just enough to make your heart race. You flushed under his gaze, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks but not daring to look away.

“Let me help you, Sylus,” you said, your voice barely a whisper. “I can’t be the only one left like this.” You reached up, gripping his tie and giving it a playful tug, your eyes gleaming with mischief.

His smirk deepened, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Take it off then,” he challenged, his voice low and teasing, daring you with his trademark confidence.

Your hands moved to unwork his tie, pulling him closer to you, causing him to chuckle slightly and grab your bare waist. You shuddered slightly under his touch, continuing your steady exploration. You discarded his tie to the floor and began unbuttoning his perfectly fitting shirt. It was a red button-up. You slowly unbuttoned his shirt, revealing Sylus’s beautifully sculpted body. You innocently peered up at his intense stare. He watched your every movement so close that the only sound in the room was your shared breaths. You drew your finger from his collarbone down to his navel, where you watched him flex slightly at your touch.

You slid his shirt off, letting the fabric fall to the floor before lowering yourself to your knees in front of him. Sylus raised an eyebrow, a smirk curving his lips as he looked down at you.

“And what exactly do you plan on doing down there?” His voice was rich with amusement and teasing but edged with something darker and more intense.

You glanced up at him, a slight pout forming on your flushed face. “Helping you undress,” you replied softly but with playful defiance.

Your hands moved to the front of his pants, your fingers steady as you unbuckled his belt. The sound of the leather sliding through the loops was the only thing breaking the tension in the room.

You looked up at Sylus, licking your lips. You pressed your hand against the bulge in his briefs. Your eyes widened a bit, realizing his size. It’s so big.

Sylus’s hand reached down, his fingers threading through your hair gently but firmly. He tugged you up to your feet with one swift motion, pulling you close until your chest pressed against his. His eyes, dark and heated, locked with yours as his other hand slid around your waist, securing you against him.

“That’s enough of you on your knees, sweetie,” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous with a hint of a smile on his lips.

Without another word, he tilted your chin up, capturing your lips in a heated kiss, leaving no doubt who was in control of the moment. His touch was possessive, but there was a gentleness in how his fingers trailed over your skin, as if he was savoring every inch of the contact.

He laid you back gently on the bed. You looked up at him, patient and waiting, propping yourself up on your forearms.

The noise in your mind was silenced as all you could focus on was Sylus. He dragged his large hands languidly down your body, stopping at the waistband of your underwear. It was a lacy white piece that beautifully complimented your skin. He hooked his fingers underneath it, tugging the fabric down the length of your legs before discarding them behind him.

You held your legs together, not daring to let them fall apart. Sylus’s hands worked between your knees “Kitten, relax for me”, he said softly, looking longingly into your eyes. You allowed yourself to relax a bit as he pulled your legs apart. “That’s my girl,” he drawled.

“Fuck, you’re drenched” He knelt before you, his hands coming to rest on your thighs as he leaned in, his hot breath fanning over your cunt. His fingers traced slow circles teasing you, his eyes locked on yours.

“Do you want me to taste you, sweetie?” The question tested your resolve, and he waited for your response.

“Y-yes,” you whispered. Your hands moved up to cover your face.

Sylus’s lips curved into a smile, his eyes gleaming at your permission. He leaned in, his fingers parting your folds before pressing a single, languid, wet kiss against your core. The sensation of his kiss caused you to arch your back, “Oh god, Sylus.”

“mhm, you taste so sweet,” he murmured. His voice was thick with desire as he continued to tease you. The sound of his voice, the noises from his mouth as he made out with your cunt, made you wetter.

You felt his rough hands hold under your knees, pushing your legs further apart, splaying you open for him.

“Tell me how it feels, Kitten. Tell me how much you want me to make you cum for me.” Your back arched off the bed, your hands moving to grip his hair. You felt heat moving through you.

Sylus took his time, drawing out your pleasure. He was focused on bringing you to the edge. He spent time learning you, tasting you.

“Please… p-please, Sylus, I want to come.” This was the first time you've ever been touched like this, and you loved it. You had never felt anything like this before. Touching yourself could never compare to what Sylus was doing to you.

Sylus’s tongue flicked faster, and his fingers moved, pressing that sensitive spot inside you. His eyes opened and locked onto yours, his gaze fierce. He was testing your reaction and pressing the little spot inside you firmer.

You squirmed against his face, and your moans escaped you. You gripped his hair harder, pulling his mouth closer to you.

“Say it again, sweetie. Beg me to let you cum.”

Fuck, his mouth is filthy.

His tongue swirled around your clit, drawing your orgasm nearer.

He wanted to hear it, wanted you to surrender completely to him, to trust him. His lips closed around your clit, sucking down on your nub hard, driving you closer and closer to the edge. His fingers joined in, working your insides as he stroked your slick cunt with his mouth.

“Say it, kitten. Say you want to cum for me.”

“I want to come for you, please!” you shouted. Tears threatening to fall off your eyelashes.

Sylus’s lips curved into a satisfied smirk, his eyes glinting with triumph as he felt your body tremble beneath his touch. Your orgasm crashed over you, and pleasure flooded your senses. Your legs spasmed as you came on his tongue.

He held you down while you came, allowing you to ride out your pleasure. His tongue lingered until the very last moment, leaving you quivering and desperate for more.

You lay against the bed, your body slowly coming down from the high. You couldn't find the words for a moment, your mind still swimming from what he’d just done.

Finally, you managed a shaky breath, your voice soft but laced with disbelief. “I… didn’t know it could feel like that.” Your cheeks flushed at the admission.

Sylus hovered above you, and you could feel the heat radiating from him. His eyes lit up with satisfaction as he looked down at you, watching you try to catch your breath, your flushed cheeks, and parted lips.

He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as his hand slid up your thigh, sending another shiver through you. “I’m just getting started. Trust me, it can feel even better.” His tone was both a promise and a challenge, daring you to let him take you further.

A shaky breath left your lips, and a wave of heat ran through you from his words. A small smile fell on your lips. “I guess I’ll have to trust you, won’t I?” you whispered, your voice barely audible as you turned your head to meet his eyes. Your tone was still nervous, but your body’s response to him showed how you felt.

You leaned in, brushing your lips against his, your heartbeat thundering in your chest. “Be careful with me… just for now,” you said, smiling slightly, allowing yourself to be a bit vulnerable with him.

His hand slid to your waist, fingers curling around your hip as he pulled you toward him again.

“Oh, sweetie,” he murmured, his voice a smooth, velvety purr, “you don’t just ‘have to’ trust me… you’re going to want to.”

His fingers traced slow circles on your skin, sending shivers through you. “Trust me,” he whispered, “I’m very good at making you want more.”

At that, you turned him towards the bed, pushing him down on his back. You straddled him, and you felt his clothed bulge pressing against your naked pussy, leaving a wet spot on him. You laid your hands on his chest, rubbing your hands down his hard body. Your heart was pounding through your chest. You moved your hands to push down his briefs, feeling his cock in your hands.

Sylus flexed his abs at your touch. His lips parted slightly, his breath catching in his throat. You wrapped your fingers around him; he felt heavy in your palm.

Sylus watched you through half-lidded eyes. Waiting for your next move until he switched your positions. You were now underneath him, his cock hard and ready, resting against your thigh.

He sat up and positioned himself at your entrance. His eyes trained on where you’d be connected. The head of his cock rubbed against your arousal, catching on your sensitive clit. Your breath caught as he moved to press his erection inside.

Fuck. You felt your walls stretching to accommodate his thick cock. You saw the flush forming on his cheeks through your teary eyes.

He bottomed out in you, finally looking into your eyes. “Breathe for me, kitten.” And you did. His hands came down by your head, caging you in. His hips moved backward, pushing back into you slowly.

His mouth parted slightly as he looked down at you, “You feel so good.” he grits out.

His thrusts were slow and deliberate, his eyes locked onto yours. You stayed there, not daring to look away. Your breath hitched, and your heart pounded out of your chest. You could feel him throbbing inside you, causing your walls to clench around him.

Sylus moves by repositioning your legs on his shoulders, allowing him to move deeper within you. Your tits bounced up and down at the power of his thrusts. He moved his hands to pinch your nipples. The pinch of his fingers shot heat to your core, making you squeeze around him again.

“Fuck” he purred out, his eyes closed at the feeling of you wrapping around him. He moved his hands in between your legs, settling on your clit. He rubbed it steadily, flicking it between his thumb.

Your mind was empty from Sylus fucking you. He was hitting that sensitive spot inside your pussy over and over. You felt your body tensing up again, the wave of pleasure starting to work through your body.

“Come for me one more time, kitten. Let me hear you.” Sylus whispered into your ear, pressing your legs back by your head. You felt him kiss the shell of your ear. You could feel your sensitive nipples rubbing against his chest, his thumb playing with your clit.

“Come for me, Wife.”

You gasped, body trembling as the tension in your core built until it snapped. “Sylus…!” you cried out, your voice breaking as your body twitched uncontrollably in his arms. He held you firm, grounding you as his thrusts remained slow and deliberate, each one pushing you further into bliss.

“Look at me,” he gritted out through clenched teeth. You forced your eyes open, locking onto his. His beautiful, red gaze never wavered, even now. The look in his eyes was more than lust—it was a connection, raw intimacy that seemed to transcend the physical. It made your heart skip a beat, just as much as the sensation of him inside you.

His pace faltered then, his movements growing erratic as he drove into you deeper, harder. “Fuck,” he growled, his lips parting in a low, primal sound that sent shivers through you. His body tensed, muscles tight as he pushed as far into you as he could, his release crashing through him.

With a final groan, Sylus collapsed forward, his weight settling over you as you both came down from your highs. His breath was warm against your skin, his heartbeat slowing in time with yours.

He lifted his head, eyes softening as they met yours again, a tenderness replacing the intensity from moments before. “Thank you for trusting me, y/n,” he whispered, brushing a thumb gently across your cheek.

“You’ve given me every reason to,” you said, smiling at him gently.

☆---

yall this idea was stuck in my head for a solid two weeks. i blame twitter l&ds stans for this. I SWORE i did not fuck with sylus like that up until a couple weeks ago...

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teamatsumu · 1 year ago

Text

purple and pink. (rafayel x reader)

summary: you and rafayel cover yourselves in paint and (redacted).

word count: 3450

warnings: porn without plot, smut, swearing, nsfw, mdni, fem!reader

tags: @keiva1000 @kindnessspreads @msbyomimi

a/n: my brain is rotting for this man so this is just self indulgent crap atp

You weren’t exactly an artistic person.

You just never indulged in art before. Of course, you admired the craft and thought it was extremely difficult to actually create meaningful art. But you didn’t think you were a particularly creative person, nor did you think you had an eye for such stuff.

Ever since you began dating Rafayel, you would say your appreciation for art had definitely improved. How could it not, considering he spent all day creating it, and in the time he wasn’t, his world was still colored by the lens of it. Rafayel saw art everywhere he went, in the gentle roll of the water where it rippled in fountains, or the timid but pinpoint light of a lone star in a dark sky. He loved describing it to you, and the way he put it would make you look around twice. He had really changed the way you viewed the world.

What you were about to do now wasn’t exactly the kind of art that made you think deeply of the universe, but hey, not all art can make you question your existence. Sometimes you need to create….. lighter pieces.

Stepping back, you stared down at the bed sheet sized canvas you had stuck to the floor, sure that you had used enough adhesive to keep it temporarily in place. The clock on the far wall of the studio told you that Rafayel would be home in a little while, which meant you needed to start the next phase of your plan shortly. But first things first, you needed lighter clothes.

After you had switched your jeans and button down shirt for a thin, short robe, you began pulling down buckets of paint from the storage closet connecting to the main studio. You chose only two, a light purple and a light pink. Both colors you knew Rafayel liked using in his pieces. You might not know a whole lot about art, but you knew him inside out. And you also knew he would love this idea.

You spent the next few minutes going over the canvas with the two buckets, pouring a few globs of paint over it. Small, but dense, with lots of blank canvas around them so they could be spread. You decided to only do two or three globs of each color. After all, wasn’t the art in how the colors would move and slide on the canvas? This should be enough paint for that purpose.

Your face was heating up at the thought of what was about to happen, and you felt almost giddy. When was he going to be home? You couldn’t wait to get started.

As if on cue, the door of the studio clicked open, not making a single sound as your boyfriend lumbered in, closing the door behind him. His white shirt was loose, black pants tight, and you couldn’t help but admire his ass when he turned around to shut the door with a light snap.

“Hey-” He stopped almost immediately upon seeing you, eyeing the half empty paint can you were setting down and the flimsy robe covering your body. A body that was definitely naked under it.

“What are you doing?” You saw his eyes flick over you and then behind to eye the massive canvas you had laid out, along with the little circles of paint looking fresh and shiny on it. You gave him a grin.

“I was hoping we could collaborate for your next piece.” You tugged at his shirt until you both stood closer to the canvas, taking special joy in how confused he looked. His eyes kept darting all over the place to try and make sense of what was going on, and you had to stifle a giggle.

You thought to elaborate on your suggestion by slowly unbuttoning his crisp white shirt. Rafayel raised his eyebrows but didn’t stop you, probably curious to see what you were cooking. You tugged his shirt off his toned shoulders, before going to work on his pants. His hand finally seized yours, tilting his head so your eyes would meet his.

“You wanna tell me what’s going on?” His tone was amused. You hummed almost in thought, pulling your hand away. You tugged on the belt of your robe until it slipped free, and the front fell open. You saw the tips of Rafayel’s ears turn red, and his expression blanked a bit.

“You have paint. You have a canvas. And you have me.” Your voice was a low whisper. You reached into the bucket next to you, palms stretched, until they were both covered in paint. Then you reached one hand up and dragged your fingertips over his bare abs.

The cool paint made them contract a bit, and you heard the way his breath hitched under the touch. Four long streaks of pink now stood out against his pale skin. Finally, you looked back up to meet his gaze, his face inches from yours.

Rafayel’s blush had extended from his ears down to his neck, but the corner of his lip twitched up into a slow grin. His hands were eager as he undid the button of his pants, and you felt a thrill run up your spine. You watched him undress quickly. He was slow, smooth, as he lifted one precise hand to tug on the shoulder of your loose robe until it was falling off your shoulders and pooling at your feet.

He looked around and his eyes caught the second can of paint. Purple. He dipped his hands into it, and you watched him walk back over to you.

“Where did you get this idea, baby?” His voice had lost its confusion, coated in honey now, sultry and low, nearly a whisper, and you shivered when his breath hit your bare neck. He took advantage of the fact that your hair was pulled up and away from your shoulders, tracing gentle lips over the slope of your shoulder. Instinctively, your hands smoothed over his torso, and you were reminded of the paint on them, still wet, now swiped onto the man before you.

Rafayel hummed at the feeling and proceeded to return the favor, his hands set on your hips. The paint was cool on your skin, and you almost jumped at the temperature if it weren’t for his warm hands taking the feeling away in the next second. Your boyfriend gave your naked bodies a gentle tug backwards until you were stepping on paper, slight crinkling noises hitting your ears.

Gentle lips now made contact with yours, and you sighed in relief. You had missed this, just the feeling of him kissing you. You had been thinking about it- and other things- all day, and you were so excited to start. Hands caressed over each other slowly but eagerly, and you couldn’t even begin to imagine how much paint you had managed to get on each other.

Your kisses became more hurried, more firm, and you could feel Rafayel’s body temperature rise a bit. His breath stuttered when you moaned into his mouth, tongues dancing together in a synchronized battle. He nibbled at your bottom lip and you arched deeply into him, nails digging into his biceps.

“Fuck, the paint is drying.” You managed to gasp out when your lips separated, his mouth finding the skin behind your ear immediately. He sucked hard on it, until you shivered and let out a long, shaky breath. Your knees were so weak, and you were glad for his strong arms wrapped around your waist, since it was the only thing currently holding you up.

He hummed against your skin, not letting up on the marks he was marring it with. You had discovered pretty early on that Rafayel was a biter, and marks on your skin was another way he created art. It just so happened that you enjoyed the feeling more than you could ever think to describe.

“Good thing you laid more out for us then.” He responded, referring to the globs just below your feet, before tugging you down until you were sprawled on the canvas below you. It was cool under your skin, and you felt something wet just under your shoulder. Oh. Your eyes met Rafayel’s before they finally traveled down his body for the first time since you two had started. You gulped in a deep breath.

His pale skin was covered in purple and pink streaks, like smooth color streaked over brilliant porcelain. The ridges and bumps of his muscles stood out even more under the paint, and you could tell in a few places the exact route your hands had taken, pink running over his waist and down his V-line. The remnants of the journey your fingers took stood before you, proud on his skin. You felt a thrill run through you at the sight, something stirred in your core.

“This is turning you on.” Rafayel observed, a light smirk resting on his face. You felt your body burn at the teasing lilt of his voice.

“As if this isn’t something you’ve dreamed of doing.” You retaliated, opening your legs so he could fit himself between them, resting his elbows on either side of you so your faces were a hairbreadth away. He hummed and sighed, lowering his body until his erection grazed right over your center, making you gasp.

“Believe me, I’ve dreamed of this.” He sighed, reached for the paint to the left and just above your head. You watched him cover his palm with it before he reached down, hooking a hand under your knee and pulling it up until it folded against your torso. The paint was wet on your skin, and you were learning to love the feeling more and more. His cock prodded your entrance, now on full display for him. He gave you another mischievous smirk.

“Baby I’m about to ruin you so bad.”

The first slide of him inside you had you crying out and arching into him, his cock carving its way through your unprepped hole and bringing with it a burn so delicious it made your head spin. When he bottomed out, he moaned unabashedly into your ear, hot breath hitting the shell of it and sending shivers through your spine. Your core clenched and unclenched rapidly, trying to adjust to the glorious intrusion. Your brain screamed at him to move, to slide in and out, do anything at all. You needed to feel him rock into you. Your hips twitched and jerked, making your boyfriend moan before he finally started moving.

His thrusts started out languid, smooth, gliding in and out of you at a reasonable pace. You sighed, head leaned back and reveling in the feeling it brought, leg tensing under his grip. Little tendrils of pleasure zipped up from where you were connected, heavy cock stretching you open until your pussy was adequately wet, ready to take the pounding you knew was inevitably coming your way.

And oh, did you receive it.

Slowly, steadily, Rafayel picked up the pace until his hips were smacking hard into your pelvis, knocking every breath from your lungs. You cried out, one arm thrown over his shoulder while the other seeked desperate purchase under you, used to the feeling of silk sheets but now met with nothing but smooth, stretched out canvas and the wet sensation of sticky color. Rafayel used the grip he had on your knee to twist your leg out further, inviting him to hit that one spot that made you see stars. A broken wail left your mouth and your back arched impossibly high, hearing a low moan hit your ear when you clenched tight around the cock pounding into you.

“F-fuck, Rafi-” His head lifted, just enough to connect your lips in a desperate slurry of rushed kisses, sucking and biting on your lips as his pace didn’t so much as stutter. Your moans dissolved straight into his mouth, little pornographic ‘yeah, yeah, yeah’s slipping out with every thrust. You didn’t bother muffling them, knowing exactly what the noises did for Rafayel’s ego, and with how he was ravishing you currently, you were okay with giving him a little ego boost.

(You would deal with the consequences of that later.)

“Gonna cum-” You managed to choke out just as your orgasm rammed into you with no warning, effectively silencing any other words as you cried and shook through it, muscles seized tight and legs kicking in the air.

“God- fuck,” Rafayel’s first words. “There you go. Fuck, that’s it.”

He fucked you through the last vestiges of your high before his arms slipped under your arched waist and lifted you up, rolling over until you were perched on his hips, throbbing cock still nestled inside you. The change in position made him slide in deeper, and you let out a broken moan. Your orgasm was still lingering around the edges, encouraging you to prolong the feeling, to chase after it again. And so you did. You rolled your hips, placing your hands on Rafayel’s abs as leverage to push your body up and down. You finally took a good look at your boyfriend.

His chest was heaving with exertion, shining under the glow of the lights above you, catching on the swirling mixes of purple and pink. Under the paint, his skin glistened with sweat, tensing and straining under his movements. The paint had reached all the way up the side of his neck, and even into his hair, blending with the purple tresses. The purple complimented his eyes, half lidded and heavy with lust, his lip was tucked under his teeth.

He was a vision.

“Baby, you’re so fucking beautiful.” His voice was fractured and strained, and in your staring you had forgotten that you were also the object of his gaze. You couldn’t imagine how you looked right now, slathered with paint and hot under the stimulation you were receiving, strands of hair leaving your bun and trailing down over your face and neck. You rolled your hips and tightened hard around his cock, watching the way his jaw slackened and eyes rolled shut. Another zip of pleasure ran through you, and you couldn’t help but keen, pushing yourself to go faster, to make him feel even better.

“I’m- I’m so close.” You could feel your vision swim, tears gathering in your lash line as his cock dug deep into your core, prodding into your spongy walls in all the right ways. Rafayel grabbed both your wrists off his chest, pulling them behind your back and then tugging you down until your body was pinned tight against his. You let him do as he pleased, planting his feet on the canvas before he started thrusting hard and fast up into your sopping cunt.

You screamed and arched, body tensing at the pace he set, chin resting on his shoulder and head thrown back as you let him carry you face first into another orgasm, gushing around him until the sounds of his thrusts grew impossibly wetter, sloppier than the paint around you and covering you, blabbering incoherent phrases and curses as tears poured from your eyes. With every thrust, the ecstasy prolonged itself, like an endless high that came with intense drugs, except all you needed was him, and he would get you there if it was the last thing he did.

Your perspective was shifting, Rafayel’s cock leaving you until you felt cold and empty. He maneuvered you onto your hands and knees, or rather, arms and knees since you felt that you couldn’t even hold yourself up at this point. A firm hand pushed on your back until it arched to his liking, spreading you until he could slide his massive length back into you with little to no resistance. You whimpered pathetically, eyes rolling unhindered in your head, cheek smushed into the paper beneath you. Briefly, you felt like you could almost taste the paint, but the thought left your brain faster than cigarette smoke dissipating on a windy day when Rafayel started moving again.

“Stop me if you can’t take it.”

You could never, would never stop him, not when your pussy keened at the feeling of his cock filling you up to fulfillment once more. Especially not when he planted a foot on your side that gave him leverage to thrust harder and stronger into you. Your body buzzed and reveled under the feeling of being used like this, basking in the sounds coming from Rafayel getting heavier and choppier as he finally chased his own orgasm instead of yours. You wanted nothing more than for him to warm you up, fill you with his seed until you couldn’t take any more of it. Your depraved mind was wiped blank of everything else except that crushing need.

“Cum in me.” You managed to whine, clenching hard around him. Rafayel moaned and his hips stuttered.

“Fuck. I’m gonna- I’m cumming baby, take it, take it, take it, take it-” Your body jostled at the strength of his thrusts, once, twice, and then he was slamming his cock deep into you and holding it there, hot spurts of cum hitting your walls. Painting your insides white like your bodies had painted your outsides purple and pink.

Your entire body collapsed on itself when Rafayel pulled out, dropping onto the paper heavily as you tried to catch your breath. Your vision was swimming and so was your head, unable to do anything but focus on the faint buzz in your muscles. You could hear shuffling somewhere behind you before you were being lifted into strong arms. You sighed and curled into them, seeking the warmth of your boyfriend after the beating your body just took. And he was happy to provide it- in the tub he ran for you while both of you settled into warm water.

You dozed in and out of sleep as Rafayel cleaned you up, giggling and humming along with whatever little anecdotes he was telling you. He knew you would barely remember most of it later, considering how dopey and spacey you got after sex. You pouted and leaned up to him every few minutes, stealing tiny kisses from his lips. And afterwards, you let him pat you dry and put you to bed in the usual “princess treatment” he gave you after one of your sessions. The only time he backed off from teasing you relentlessly and instead doted on you properly.

You couldn’t tell how long you slept, but you woke up feeling well rested. The bed next to you was empty but still slightly warm, and you could hear quiet shuffling outside in the studio.

Your muscles screamed when you forced them to move, your hips and thighs feeling like particular sore spots. You ignored the feeling in favor of pulling a shirt off the floor to throw over your body, realizing it was your boyfriend’s when it fell all the way to your thighs. You trudged out of the room while rubbing the sleep from your eyes. You saw him standing with his back to you, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers. The muscles of his bare back shifted as he moved, now clear of all the paint you two had slathered on it. Oh right, the paint.

Your eyes shifted behind him to the canvas, which Rafayel had propped up against the wall now, and was observing silently. You walked closer to admire the streaks of pink and purple on it, watching it carefully. Somehow, the choppy strokes showed your desperation, your passion, and you felt your face heat up at the thought.

“Looks pretty.” Your voice was slightly rough. Rafayel turned around at the sound and gave you a soft smile, pulling you closer and wrapping his arms around you from behind as you both stared. You settled into his warmth as you swayed gently back and forth.

“Why’re you thinking so hard about it?” You asked.

You turned your head to watch as he huffed and pouted a bit. He looked so cute, you bit back the urge to squish his cheeks.

“Pretty sure there’s some cum in there somewhere.”

Aaaaaand the urge was gone.

You smacked his chest hard, making him jerk back and laugh, but not releasing his hold on you.

“You’re disgusting.”

“Not more than you.”

He kissed you before you could land another smack, hand cupping your jaw to tilt your head back. You fought to keep a grin down, but failed when you felt his lips stretch with a smile of his own, erupting into giggles.

#rafayel x reader #rafayel x you #love and deepspace #love and deepspace fanfiction #lnd #rafayel #love and deepspace x reader #rafayel smut #love and deepspace smut #rafayel x y/n

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mouthfulloftoothpasterry · 20 days ago

Text

A Cure

Summary: very cute and very horny firefighter Harry x author wife 🥹

Warnings: unprotected sex, very horny husband and wife, humiliation, all that jazz AND slight voyeurism if you squint!

Wc: 6.4k

The sound of knuckles rapping against her office door pulls Y/n out of her trance. She blinks her eyes after minutes of them sitting unfocused on her white laptop screen full of words she's not sure make any sense to her anymore, or maybe they didn't in the first place.

After another minute she hears the knocking again, rubbing her strained eyes. “Are you in there, baby? Or am I embarrassing myself.” Her husband's voice booms from the other side of the door, he really isn't that loud at all but it's probably because the only sound she has heard for the past couple hours are the sniffles and sobs as she reads her publishers emails she's been avoiding for at least five days.

Y/n clears her throat, standing up. “Yeah, Hi, sorry.” Her voice is barely above a whisper when her husband comes into view. He stands tall above her, his strong arms wrapping around her shoulders. He looks down at her with a large smile carved into his face, pearly whites and dimples only an angel could make.

“How is writing going?” She lets out a puff of air before returning the smile

Y/n is currently working on her second novel after her debut was a big success, catching the attention of readers everywhere on social media; it soon became a number one best seller. Following the success, she's been pulled in every direction and spread too thin as her team pressures her to get this second novel out as soon as possible so she stays relevant and readers stay buzzing about her.

“It's going…” he gives her a soft frown, pressing a gentle kiss to her pouted mouth. “Well, I'm about to head out for work.” She nods, relaxing into his delicate touch as he runs his nose against her brow bone. “So soon?” He huffs a laugh, pulling his arm away from her to look at the watch on his wrist. “Well, considering I'm about to be late…” she grabs his wrist, looking at the time. 11:30, already?!

“Oh my god! I didn't even realize it, sorry I've just been knee deep in emails and I've got about twenty different documents going at a time and-” He cuts her off with a kiss, his big hands coming to cup at her cheeks. Y/n lets out a sigh of satisfaction, sinking into him deeper as her shaky hands come to clutch at his forearms, as if she's pulling him back to stay so they can spend the whole day like this.

He pulls away with reluctance, another laugh leaving his lips as her mouth follows his. “I've got to go fight fires, baby. Kinda my whole job.” She has what feels like a permanent frown on her face, but nods nonetheless. “I'll be back soon, my baby. I love you.” She smiles, watching him slowly back away while he squeezes her hand. “I love you too, H.”

📜⋆.ೃ🎞࿔*:･🕰-'♡'-

Y/n sits at her desk, sipping on another random energy drink so she can keep her eyes open to write maybe one sentence that will actually make it into her book.

Her first book came easy. After over a decade of only dreaming of getting a book deal and becoming a huge author it finally came true at twenty six. She wrote the novel about her own life, swapping the names and dramatizing some situations for entertainment- but all in all it was exactly her and Harry's love story. A classic second chance romance, highschool sweethearts who break up during college because long distance is too hard, then once the male main character comes back to town they see each other after two years and instantly fall back in love. Happily ever after and all that.

It's true, for most of her life with Harry it has been a fairytale, and that's exactly why her book has been such a big success. Everyone fell in love with Brooks as she had with Harry. The cute, shy, overly kind, highschooler turned mushy, soft, sexy, firefighter husband was an easy drawn in as readers described it as the “love story of a century”.

She decided not to continue with Brooks and Summer’s love story because it had been told from start to finish, highschool to marriage. Now, she's focused on a new couple, struggling with names at first, now their story, family, their emotional backstories, everything. The only thing she was confidently writing was the cameos from Brooks and Summer since they were all friends in this series she was trying to create.

She's got the names, Ruby and Noah, but she has no clue what the fuck they are doing. She's looking forward to writing about their ski trip, where she's going to make Ruby and Noah hook up after summer's constant nagging that Ruby should give him a try. Enemies to lovers this time around.

She loves writing trips, she's not sure why. Maybe because as her characters have a get away it seems her mind does as well. She gets to pour everything into imagery while she describes the snowy trees and the beautiful big cabin they stay in for a week.

Maybe that's what she needs to crack this writer's block, a nice getaway. But unfortunately, that's not possible with Harry's job right now. They are short staffed on firefighters and even the teen volunteers aren't doing much to compensate for the lack of employment.

Y/n’s head falls back against her chair, groaning and slapping her hand on her keyboard. She looks over at her scribbled notes on the random legal pad she found in her desk drawer. As much as she had planned for this winter getaway, she couldn't find it in herself to write it. She's been painfully getting through writing the drive up to the cabin through the past couple days and she isn't even halfway done.

This particular scene is supposed to be big for Ruby and Noah, Ruby finds out more about Noah's childhood and she begins to feel differently about him. She finally makes sense of why he's so standoffish and reserved, all these years she thought he was just a selfish dick.

Y/n groans, crumbling up the paper and throwing it across the room because she can't bear to look at the plans she so excitedly wrote down a few nights ago when she's now in one of her worst blocks of her writing career. It's worse than when she forgot about a five thousand word essay in college and had to hurry up and write something two hours before due.

“Maybe I'll just take a walk.” She sighs out, lifting from her numb legs and finally exiting her dark office. She pads down the stairs, sliding on shoes and pulling a light coat over her clothes.

Her eyes take a moment to adjust to the sunshine after hours of staring at the artificial blue light her computer gives off. She breathes in the crisp early afternoon air. Hopefully this works.

📜⋆.ೃ🎞࿔*:･🕰-'♡'-

The walk didn't help much, it definitely cleared her mind like walks usually do- but that worsened her case if anything because now she can't think of a single thing to write while they drive up to that stupid cabin.

Might as well get some chores out of the way, she thinks, as she fills up a water bottle after living off coffee and energy drinks. She walks out of the kitchen and back up the stairs where she opens the door to her and Harry's bedroom. She opens the closet door, looking at the mound of laundry they both have piled up, better get to it. She groans as she lifts their shared laundry basket, it's overflowing and has now piled onto the floor. Harry helps out as much as he can but with his crazy work schedule and y/n being locked in her office all day they don't get as much done as they would like.

She tosses clothes into the washer, pouring detergent in and closing the lid to start the load. In the meanwhile, she goes back to their room and pulls a big load of clean laundry onto her bed.

She begins folding them and tossing them into piles, one for pajamas, bras, boxers, and so on. She walks to the big closet to grab a stack of hangers, tossing shirts and dresses and pants over the hangers and placing them on the rod one by one.

She shoves her hand onto the dwindling pile of clothes, a lace material rubbing against her finger tips. She pulls at it, revealing the tiny babydoll she had worn for Harry one long night… almost two months ago. She sighs, hanging it up on one of the nicer hangers out of the random collection of mismatched ones they've collected over the years.

She bites her lips, staring at the pretty fabric. Her and Harry both have quite high sex drives, maybe because they are still in the early years of their marriage, maybe that's just how they are despite everyone saying they would get bored of each other especially because they were each other's first everything.

But between them being short staffed and Y/n getting swept up in the marketing and press of her book, they haven't had that much time for each other. She's lucky she has a touchy feely husband, because that's what comforts her. She needs to be in her husband's arms to feel better again. And since it's been so crazy, she hasn't gotten more than a lingering kiss for weeks and weeks.

She hangs the garment back up, ignoring the nagging feeling as she continues her chores.

Once the laundry pile is all folded she switches out the now clean laundry into the dryer and starts another load, plopping on the couch until Harry gets home.

📜⋆.ೃ🎞࿔*:･🕰-'♡'-

“I'm home!” Y/n hears Harry shout through the house, perking up and dusting off the t-shirt she has over her little matching bra and panties set. She closes her laptop, she was sitting on the couch, trying to write as a distraction until her husband came home. “Hi,” Harry softly sings, a big cheesy smile on his face as he finally spots his wife after hours of working. She rises, stretching up and wrapping her arms around his neck. He hums, giving her a squeeze and rubbing up and down her back.

“I missed my baby while I was away.” He mumbles, kissing the side of her head over and over. She smiles, inhaling his smoky smell that has grown to be comforting. It's him. A deeply sweet- almost fruity scent mixed with the ash and smoke of fires. “I missed you, H.” She whispers, pulling away and leaning in to kiss him. Her hand rests on his chest, opening her mouth slightly to slide her tongue against his.

She can feel his lips curling into a grin, his hands slide down, lifting her up and into his arms. “You missed me something special, Hm?” She nods then pushes her hands into his hair. “Take me upstairs, H.” He does as told, starting to slowly and carefully walk them toward the staircase.

A ring ruins the moment, making Harry sigh, sitting her down. Y/n sighs, wiping the side of her mouth. “Fuck,” He sighs, shaking his head as he looks down at his phone. “H?” He looks back up, his heart breaking as he looks at his wife. “Baby….” she frowns, trying to push back the urge to cry. “It's work. I'm sorry. I've got to go be a firefighter.” He softly smiles, attempting to lighten the mood.

It doesn't help though. She wraps her arms around herself, feeling stupid and childish that she's so emotional over her husband having to leave her to go fight a fire and potentially save lives. “I'm sorry, baby. I have to go.” His hand pulls away from her, waving before he walks out of the door.

She swallows the lump in her throat, walking up the stairs alone and straight into the bedroom. She pulls off the matching set she wore to surprise Harry, tossing it into the empty laundry basket. She pulls on normal pajamas, just a big shirt and a random pair of pajama shorts before washing her face and brushing her teeth.

She gets in bed, preparing to wait up and make sure Harry is alright before falling asleep.

📜⋆.ೃ🎞࿔*:･🕰-'♡'-

Working from home is pretty lonely. Harry can be up and out of the door as early as four in the morning and sometimes gets calls all throughout the night. She got pretty used to being alone once Harry became a firefighter, and she even liked it. Being alone with her thoughts was great for her writing. She reminisced on the early days of her relationship, laughing at all the awkward stages and feeling emotional at how far they've come from the goofy teenagers they once were.

“I'm writing as fast as I can! It's not going to be good if it's not organic.” Y/n stresses over the phone, trying to push down the lump in her throat that strains her words. “Yes, Y/n, but we need to get a publish date on this book and get the ball rolling.” She groans, feeling tempted to throw her phone next to the discarded ball of paper from yesterday- but she knows that's a bit dramatic.

She hangs up, too frustrated to talk- or think about this goddamn book. She needs her husband, she needs his touch. A hug, a kiss, anything from him right now would ease her anxiety.

Time to start stress baking.

For as long as she can remember baking has been an outlet for Y/n- she's not sure why. Taking the horrible thoughts of the day and the physical anxiety and turning it into something yummy that puts a smile on everyone's face was fulfilling. She even put her own little recipes at the end of each chapter dependent on whatever Summer had made for Brooks- which was once again very much based on her and Harry.

White chocolate cranberry scones, chocolate cake, lavender lemon loaf, she is bound to be busy with all the different recipe cards laid out in front of her on their kitchen island.

She sifts the flour, bowls covering the table with a load of dishes already going in the dishwasher. The timer from the oven goes off, pulling her away from her distraction of yet another sweet treat. She pushes her hair out of her face, opening the oven and adding it to the collection of pastries that are making her house smell so good. Thank god she's got hungry firefighters to feed. She scribbles a note on the white board that's magnetized to the fridge to remind her to box up some of everything for Harry to bring in.

She's the fire chief's wife, she's has to keep them fed.

After what feels like days of baking, she's finally done. Two different cookies, two different loaves of bread, scones, and a cake.

Y/n flops down on the couch, turning on some trashy TV to keep her mind anywhere but that book she's supposed to be writing.

She gets about halfway through a forty five minute episode before she gets a glimpse of the time. She shoots up, starting on dinner knowing that her husband will arrive home anytime. He seems just as stressed out as she is about work, he just doesn't let it show as much, so she wants to make his life easier when she can.

Dinner didn't take long, she just whipped up something easy and quick for them. She flops back down on the couch, keeping the food on low so it will stay warm.

“Hi, baby.” Harry smiles, tossing his keys onto the table and coming to flop down next to her on the couch. He wraps his arms around her, cuddling into her. “What smells so good?” He sniffs at her neck as if she's covered in perfume, making her laugh and push away his touch even though she craves it more than anything right now. “Lots of random baked goods.” She softly laughs, pressing a kiss to his lips. He gives her an empathetic smile. “stressed, huh?” She shrugs, sitting up and he quickly follows.

“I made dinner too.” He thanks her. Kissing the back of her hand and trailing them up her arm. “How about after dinner we finish what we started the other night… maybe it will help you unwind?” She feels her stomach tighten. She wants to say no, take me right now before you're whisked away again, but she doesn't. She nods, closing her eyes and sinking into his touch before it's taken away.

He kisses her head, standing up and pulling her with him. “Let's get you fed and ready for me, huh? Can't have you losing energy half way through.” She rolls her eyes and shakes her head with a smile on her face.

They eat dinner together, sitting at the island together instead of the proper dining table. They make small talk, catching each other up about their day, Harry telling her all about two kittens that were stuck in a tree that he had to rescue bright and early this morning. “So that's why you crawled out of bed at four in the morning?” Harry nods, standing up and pushing their bowls aside. “Yeah, but now we’re going to head back to bed.” He smiles, holding a hand out for her, which she takes.

Harry leans in, slotting his lips with his wife's. Another ring sounds through the silence of their kiss. Harry groans loudly into her mouth, obviously irritated. “I swear to god-” he yanks his phone from where it was sitting on the table. “What?!” He spits to the other person on the line, obviously frustrated. “Fuck.” He nods once more to the caller before hanging up. “I'm sorry, baby. A restaurant downtown is completely engulfed in flames, I have to go now.” She nods, trying to bite back her frown.

She loves that Harry is a firefighter, it's sexy and has made him build up the strong physique that holds her and protects her. She loves that he does so much for the city and has saved so many lives and homes, but as he's out saving others' homes it feels like he's abandoning theirs. He's home basically just to sleep, and nothing else. Their relationship is still strong, and their love will never fade, but not having quality time is taking a toll on both of them mentally.

“I promise, baby. I'll be home as soon as possible.” He rushes out of the house, running towards the door.

Y/n is once again left in the house all alone.

📜⋆.ೃ🎞࿔*:･🕰-'♡'-

Y/n is woken up with a gentle shake, slowly blinking her blurry eyes open. “What time is it?” She slurs, sitting up when she knocks her open, timed out laptop off of her chest. Harry quickly catches it, softly laughing and placing it on the coffee table. “It's only been an hour since I left. You fell asleep while writing, baby.” He rubs her back, placing a kiss to the side of her head.

“Oh shit!” She shoots up, grabbing her laptop. “That is due at midnight, I need to send it to my editor!” Harry stops her from running up to her office, hooking an arm around her. “Hey, hey. Slow down, baby.” She huffs, sitting next to him on the couch.

“Are you still struggling to finish this chapter?” He kisses her head again, brushing her hair out of her face. She nods, feeling the anxiety build up in her body at the thought of not getting this chapter done in time. “Yes. It's so frustrating,I just feel defeated. Like I need… a cure?”

Harry taps on his bottom lip with his pointer finger while he's thinking. “A cure?”

Y/n nods, “a cure.”

“Well, go try to finish writing so your editor doesn't get mad at you. If you need any help or words of encouragement I'll be in our room.” She nods, rising up from the couch, collecting her laptop in her arms before kissing her husband. He smiles when she pulls away, giving her ass a small smack.

“Go get to it, baby.”

She walks up the steps, still sleepy as she sits back in her desk chair and cracks her screen back open. She gets to typing, putting any coherent thought down to try to make it make sense, she can always have her editor put it into better formed sentences that flow better with the rest of the story.

It's a little past 1:30 when she finally gets into bed, crawling in next to her shirtless husband.

Harry groans, wrapping both his arms around her while he keeps his eyes closed- too sleepy to actually open them. She cuddles into him, finally relaxing after what seems like days of tense muscles and mental gymnastics. “Did you find your cure?” She shakes her head, “no cure yet. But I got it done.”

He whispers a cheer, squeezing her. “Good job, baby. I knew you'd do it. Now go to sleep, we'll celebrate tomorrow.” She giggles into his neck, wrapping a leg around him.

“Celebrate?” He nods, basically snoring. “I'll finally fuck you, promise, baby.”

📜⋆.ೃ🎞࿔*:･🕰-'♡'-

“Guess what the fire chief got called in for?” Harry asks, walking into the house surprisingly early. Y/n spins around in her chair, her eyebrows shooting up. “You're home, H!” He nods, walking over to her. “What did you get called in for?” He stays silent for a beat to dramatize and leave her in suspense.

“A fourteen year old kid got his head stuck in a fence. And they called me, the fire chief, to get him out.” Y/n laughs, almost choking on her water. “So,” Harry starts, grabbing her water from her hand and taking a sip of it. “I said don't call me, don't bother me, I'm taking the day off to spend with my wife.” She smiles, scanning him up and down.

He's still in his red suspenders, fire pants, and the navy blue shirt that hugs his pecs and biceps more than should be allowed for everyday firefighting. His hair is crazy, pushed back with a strand flopping in his eyes. His skin is covered in black ash and soot, and he smells of fire but it only heats her skin.

His pointer finger curls to lift her chin up, his thumb softly resting under her bottom lip. He slots his lips with hers, making her whimper with need. Her hand clutches at the short sleeve of his shirt, feeling his toned muscles under it. “Hop up” he lifts her into his strong arms, walking them up to their bedroom.

He slams open the door, throwing her on the bed. They both laugh loudly, her arms reaching out for him again. He knees the bed, on his hands and knees while he hovers over her. Neither of them care that he's covered in black ash on their light duvet.

His hand slides up her t-shirt, smiling at the feeling of her warm skin even though he knew she was braless. “Take this fuckin’ thing off.” He half-jokes, pulling at the bottom of her shirt and lifting it over her head. Harry pulls his suspenders down, yanking off his tight shirt. Y/n hated to see the shirt go, but she loves saying goodbye. Her hands slide down his chest and onto his chiseled abs. “Keep the rest on.” Harry's eyebrow raises, his mouth slightly popped open.

“Keep it on?” She nods, then slides a suspender back up his arm.

Harry smiles, unbuttoning his pants and pulling his hard cock out. It slaps against his belly, making Y/n's mouth water. He yanks at her pants, making her shuffle down the bed. They both laugh as he pulls her pants down, giggles flying through the room as her pants fly through the air.

He takes in her naked body, his eyes dragging down her almost like she's his prey. Suddenly she feels shy under her husband's heavy gaze, pulling her arms in to cover herself. “Don't. You. Fucking. Dare.” He practically growls, yanking her arms away. He opens her legs, his hand sliding over cunt.

“I'm going to absolutely devour you. I'm not going to stop until you're shaking.” She smiles, wrapping her legs around him.

Harry grabs his cock, lining it up with her. “Are you wet enough, baby?” He asks, his hand slipping down for a moment to touch her pussy. “Oh,” an evil grin forms on his face. “You're dripping, huh?” Her face heats up, looking away because she knows she'll be too embarrassed to look him in his eye.

Harry softly but quickly pulls her face back toward him, opening her jaw with his thumb and spitting into her mouth.

She pulls him in with her legs, moaning. He lines himself up with her, finally pushing it. Y/n cries out at the feeling of him finally being inside of her after so long, it only eggs Harry on.

His constant thrusting shuffles her up and down the bed, and he loves every second of watching her tits bounce while his cock is stuffed deep inside of her. “Fuck, H” she gasps, reaching out for his arm to somewhat stabilize herself. “Feels good, baby?” He slips his thumb inside of her mouth, watching her perfect pouty lips wrap around him. She frantically nods, breathless and already shaking from the feeling of her husband's big, thick, bare cock inside of her.

“H, fuck, I don't know if I'm going t-” he cuts her off, smashing his mouth into her. She can hear how wet she is as the sound of wet squelching and heavy pants fill the room. It's enough to turn her cheeks red hot again, trying to ignore it. “Do you hear how fucking wet you are?” Harry says, biting at her neck. All chances of her not being humiliated are thrown out of the door the second Harry opens his dirty mouth. She almost forgot how embarrassingly filthy he can talk.

“Tell me, baby, do you hear how wet you are? Your pussy is dripping all over the sheets, you're making an absolute mess of me.”

She ignores his mouth, trying to keep some of her dignity.

“Tell me right now, or I'll stop fucking you.” She whines, gasping as he hits her special little spot. Her eyes roll to the back of her head and her back arches as he sends electricity from her head to her toes. “I'll stop right now.” His hips come to a vault, and suddenly she's sobbing out her answer. “Yes, fuck, H. I'm so wet. I'm so fucking wet and it's all for you.” She falls into a chant of “it's all for you, all for you H” until he starts fucking her again now that he's gotten exactly what he wants.

“So wet, and tight, and warm for me, baby. I think your pussy was made just for me.” She nods, she's so cock drunk she thinks she might sign all her rights away if asked. “Cause my dick fits perfectly in you, it hits all those special little spots that puts that little pout on your lips.”

She gasps, gripping his arm tighter as she gets closer. “Yeah, you're going to cum? Cum on my cock, it's okay. You can cum baby, I know it's been so long.”

She moans a mantra of his name over and over again as she finally orgasms, feeling like a weight has been lifted off of her.

Harry cums shortly after her, moaning in her ear and telling her how good she makes him feel.

He flops down next to her after he carefully pulls out, wrapping his arm around her and pulling her close. “You okay? I didn't go too rough?” She shakes her head, resting it on his bicep. He presses a soft peck to her lips then gently rubs her cheek with his thumb. “No, H. It was perfect.” He smiles, glancing away like he didn't just say the dirtiest things she's ever said to her. “I'm sorry we haven't had a lot of time to be together. I hate being so busy.” She nods, “it's okay, H. I know you can't help it.” He bites at the inside of his bottom lip, sighing.

He moves his head closer to hers, closing his eyes and rubbing his nose against hers. “I love you.” She smiles, sliding her hand down his arm and threading their fingers together. “I love you too, babe.”

He sits up, on his knees. “What are you doing?” He grabs her legs, tossing them onto his shoulders. He kisses her ankle, “I didn't forget about my promise. I want your legs shaking. I'll carry you around everywhere tomorrow.” She giggles as he stretches her legs out, bending to suck and lick at her nipples.

She pushes him away, making him laugh. “Not gonna let your husband get a little frisky?” She rolls her eyes with a smile, “I've been letting you get frisky since we were sixteen, I've had enough.” He scoffs, sliding inside of her again.

He presses kisses over her leg, using his over hand to press into her lower belly. She gasps, grabbing his wrist. “Am I too big?” She attempts to roll her eyes at his cockiness but is cut off with a moan when he presses into her again.

Harry starts thrusting in and out of her, painfully slow. All of his touches are amplified, she can feel every vein on him. “Fuck, babe,” she hardly manages to get a word out of her mouth as her hips wiggle. She's inconsolable as she lets out sobs, her back arching and hips rolling against his.

She clenches around him, sending a chill rolling down his back. “Fuck, baby. Do that again.” She clenched around him, spasming around him as he perfectly rolls his hips. Thank god he knows how to use all that.

She whimpers his name, begging for him to give her anything he can. A blissed out smile frames Harry's face, his pearly white teeth peaking out while he bites his lips to silence his grunts and groans. She pulls him in even closer with her legs and he bottoms out inside of her. He gasps her name, his hand clenching at her calf.

“Don't hide, H. I want to hear how good you feel.” His mouth falls open at her words, his hazy eyes falling closed in pleasure. He shudders, letting out a shaky breath. “F-fuck, baby.” She clenches around him once again, holding it as he pushes back inside of her.

“You f-feel like heaven, you're so fucking perfect. So perfect.” He moans, his mouth open while he thrusts in and out of her. He whines, making Y/n want to bite a pillow and scream into it from the noises her husband is making. “I fucking love this pussy, baby. Tell me whose it is.” Her back arches, letting out a pleasured sigh as she grips the sheets. “It's your pussy, H. You're the only one who gets to cum it in.” He smiles, nodding.

They both cum at the same time, their moans blending as they cry each other's names.

Harry finally lets his fire pants drop, kicking them off the bed once he's calmed down.

“I'm hiring more people as soon as possible. There's no way I went so long without you.” She laughs as he kisses her, both of them laying together in their post-sex bliss. She fidgets with his wedding ring, her head on his chest. “Yeah, I miss having you around the house.” Harry nods, squeezing one of her fingers. “Me too.”

They both relax into the bed, staying silent and enjoying each other's company.

“Round three in the shower?”

📜⋆.ೃ🎞࿔*:･🕰-'♡'-

Y/n looks over at her office door which is now open, her sleepy husband stands in the doorway, the only thing he's wearing is low hanging pajama pants. He rubs at his sleepy eyes, his hair going in every different direction. “Why are you awake?” She softly laughs at his question, looking at the time on her laptop. “H, it's almost 11AM.” His sleepy eyes go wide for a split second before they return to their tired half-open state.

“Well, you should be in bed with me.” He creeps over to her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders while she sits in her office chair. “I'm writing?” He dramatically gasps, pressing a kiss to her neck. “You're writing?” She nods, continuing to type even as he kisses her.

“Did inspiration strike?” She nods, smiling. “Last night kind of inspired me. I think it's exactly what I needed.” Harry raises one eyebrow, his fingertips coming to pull the laptop closer to him. “Can I read it?” She nods, letting him pull it into his arms, watching him scroll back up to the start of the chapter.

After last night she finally had the inspiration strike to write Ruby and Noah hooking up at the ski getaway. This will be the peak in her book, now that they are together the rest will be a breeze to write.

She watches as his pajama pants slowly grow, making her hands shake with anticipation. “Holy fuck. You wrote that based on last night?” She smiles, blushing and nodding.

“That was your cure, huh?”

She didn't think about it that way. “I finally got my cure.”

Harry sinks down onto his knees, sliding his hands up her thighs, under the shirt of his she was wearing to bed. He hooks his fingers into her panties, dragging them down. “Now I need my cure.” He whispers, sliding her panties down her legs and into the pocket of his pajama pants. “I've got a big problem,” he looks down, cupping his large bulge. “And you're the only cure for it.”

He parts her legs, smiling at the sight of her wet cunt.

“Oh god, baby. How long have you been like this?” He pouts up at her, touching her with delicate fingers. “So long, H. I've been thinking about you since I got up.” She whines, pushing her shirt back so it doesn't block his view.

He lets out a sympathetic whine for her, his eyebrows pinching together with a worried expression. “My poor girl, I've got to take care of you now. You woke up with a throbbing pussy thinking of me, Hm?” She nods, carefully watching his every move.

Her breath shudders as her eyes follow his head sinking down to between her legs. Her eyes go wide, feeling his tongue slide into her. She whimpers, closing her eyes at the feeling of his warm tongue sliding up and down her cunt.

“No, no. Go ahead and write. It's the only thing that cures your writer's block.” She gulps, her hands shaking as she goes back to writing with her husband's head between her legs. She slowly types onto her document as he licks her up and down. She tries to keep her eyes open, typing whatever comes to her mind- which she's more than sure will be a jumbled mess for her to fix later. “H, please babe.” He shakes his head. “Your publisher will be mad if you don't write it.” He licks her clit, pulling it into his mouth to suck at it.

Her hand falls to the top of his head, threading her fingers through his hair. He shakes his head again, grabbing her hand and placing it back on her keys.

She moans, rolling her hips. She's fully given up on writing, her head fallen back as he continues to eat her pussy.

“Baby,” he laughs, kissing her thigh. “Well, I can't be mad. I guess you deserve it after working so hard.” He lifts up to kiss her, laughing at her failed attempt to write like he previously ordered her to.

He sinks back down between her legs, flicking his tongue against her clit. She groans, arching her back and whimpering. She throws a leg over his shoulder and he instantly wraps his arm around it. “You taste so good.” His mouth is loud against her, making lewd noises as he sucks, licks, and flicks his tongue against her skin.

“You always taste so good, baby.” He groans against her, losing himself in the smell, feeling, and taste of her. He moans against her over and over again, sliding his tongue deep in her to taste her wetness straight from the source. He loves how wet he can get her, how just the thought of him gets her so worked up she spends the whole morning with a wet, throbbing cunt until he takes matters into his own hands.

He often fantasizes about catching her touching herself- just because he knows her writing is always based on their experience and when she is writing a particularly spicy scene she tends to get worked up.

He can imagine silently creeping into her office to catch her with her legs open and her small hand down her panties trying to satisfy herself when they both know it's his hands she's craving.

She falls to pieces above him, her chest rapidly falling and rising while her mouth drops open to praise him and all the pleasure he's giving her. “You can cum, baby. It's okay.” He closes his eyes, enjoying the last few moments of her on his tongue. He loves the silky feeling of her, how warm and soft she is.

“H, I'm cumming!” She moans, gripping at his hair while she rolls her hips trying to get herself there. Seconds later she cums all over his mouth, leaving him to clean her up.

He wipes his mouth, sucking his fingers off before he yanks her down to give her a messy tongue kiss to let her taste herself.

She tries to catch her breath, giggling now that she's come back down. “Do you feel better now?” She nods, kissing him again.

“Just needed your husband to take care of you, huh?” She nods once again, wrapping her arms and legs around him as he wraps his big, strong arms around her. “Now go sit back there in case I need you again.” He agrees to it with a large smile on his face, walking back to the much bigger and comfier chair she normally uses for reading.

He’s always been the cure.

A/N: WOWOWOW!! beside a small 1k word blurb this is my return to writing after almost a year and a half! I thought about making an Author y/n one random day in the shower and with a little help from my beautiful, amazing, creative best friend @ziallslvr firefighter Harry and author Y/n was born 🥹!!!!

I feel so passionate about these two! They are my sweet babies❤️ This specific Y/n is straight from my heart, and might be a little self indulgent! I hope you all love her as much as I do ❤️

PLEASEEEEEE!!! IF YOU LIKED THIS REBLOG AND SHARE YOUR THOUGHT WITH ME :D

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tsukii0002 · 8 months ago

Text

My demons' periods cycles. By Mc

Note: these are purely my headcanons at the moment, they are based on animal ethology and behaviours that I think would suit each character depending on their personality and Lore. I would love to read your headcanon in case you have them.

Warning: Long text. Possible grammatical errors. It's written as if Mc was writing for themself.

Hey, it me Mc, the best human. Here is a compilation of the behaviours of my demons during their periods, cycles, for practical day to day use. It wasn't easy but I sat them down and got to talk to them, with a little effort I now know what they need. So now I am ready to assist them during these complicated times and be prepared in case I find a dead goat on the porch as a tribute.

Lucifer, Mammon & Levi || Satan, Asmo, & Beel || Belphie, Barbatos & Diavolo || Simeon & Raphael

Belphie

It could be said that he is the one that best keeps his schedule.

During his period he still sleeps a lot, the only difference is that he has short periods of high activity.

He can stand the light well. In fact, he will often ask you for a spell that simulates sunlight to sleep under.

During his cycle, most of Belphie's body is covered with soft fur, although some parts of his body such as the end of his tail or chest is a denser fur (perfect for sleeping) where spotted patterns can be seen.

His horns and ‘claws” harden and his pupils become horizontal (Little cow boy).

He sheds a lot of hair and his claws grow, but he is too lazy to groom himself. So wherever he is there will be fur everywhere.

To get him to groom himself, you will have to tell him that you will help. Sometimes, he strokes you simulating the action of brushing the fur (so I think that if he wasn't the avatar of sloth he would groom his companion).

Belphie does not build a nest as such, but rather a kind of fort with all kinds of blankets, pillows or stuffed animals, he steals them from his siblings to feel safe, although he won't admit it.

He usually does it in the attic to be quiet, although your room is also one of his favourite options.

Belphie becomes possessive and somewhat capricious, he won't be shy about asking you to spoil and pamper him. Lucifer says he is always like this but it has gotten worse since you offered to help.

Before his period, Belphie will go a couple of days without sleep, which makes him very irritable. Is this the equivalent of hormones?

During his period Belphie's appetite neither increases nor decreases, but he needs to change his diet to high-energy items because of his periods of activity.

He will want you to feed him but he will not feed you.

Belphie can talk, although slower than normal. He will communicate most things to you with puppy calf eyes. He knows how to use his weapons, sly cow.

He produces pheromones and marks everything with them, without you noticing.

This pheromones are not very strong but have a unique scent. He is a bully and sometimes goes around the house spreading them to annoy his siblings.

Belphie likes you to always be rubbing him, in any moment, always looking after him. He gets very touchy.

One thing he will do a lot is lick and bite you gently. Sometimes he expects you to lick him back, my tongue is not ready for that Belphie.

Belphie's courtship consists of little taps to get your attention and release a special kind of pheromones, if you stay close to him he will consider the courtship a success and proceed to groom you insistently (so he can do it >:v)

You can be a bit naughty and get up, just to give it back to him, but come back quickly or he will cry.

The sense that develops the most during hir cycle is his smell, mostly to detect the presence of other people nearby.

His temperature rises a lot, but he won't give up blankets and other warm things. Prepare ice packs for you, not for him.

Belphie's purr is not very loud, it's more of a chest vibration, he's super cute when he purrs, but don't feed his ego.

He doesn't mind everyone knowing he's on his period and will make it everyone's problem.

Belphie: Mc… Mccccccc!

Mc: *worried* What's wrong?!

Belphie: *stretching his arms out* I'm on my periodooo, cuddle me.

Mc: *stifling laughter* Why should I?

Belphie: Eeeeh? *pouting* I'm on my period and you're not going to spoil me? How cruel.

Mc: *cuddling up next to him* You're such a spoiled brat.

Belphie: *cuddling up against them* Yeah, yeah, whatever you say *smiling*.

Belphie: *sleeping with hs shirt pulled up*

Mc: *observing the spots on his fur* Humm *drawing the shapes of the spots with their finger*

Belphie: *shrinking back*

Mc: Soft…

Belphie: *balling himself up into a ball* It tickles..

Mc: *smiling* A cute little cow with a cute little coat~

Belphie: *blushing still in his sleep* Stop…

Belphie: *courting Mc*

Mc: *getting up to go get something, without noticing it*

Belphie: …*his eyes fill up with tears*

Mc: Belphie??!!!

Belphie: Do you still love me?

Mc: Of course I love you,

Belphie: Then don't ever do that again… *biting their arm*

Mc: Ouch

Diavolo

Get ready to go underground. Diavolo nests in a cavern. There is a large underground cavern under the palace for this precise purpose.

Diavolo can go through his entire cycle without sleeping, but likes to do it, curled up in his nest just for the fun of it.

He can tolerate light, but only if strictly necessary.

You can find out a lot about Diavolos' period because the cycles of the royal are well documented.

Diavolo's scales harden and although black, they glow golden in the light and the golden scales double in size.

His pupils tear he's such a big lizar. And ornamental patterns are spread all over the skin.

Diavolo's grooming is complex and laborious, at first he didn't want to, but now he is the one asking for your help.

The scales on the wings, body and tail moult almost every day and it is advisable to keep his skin moisturised. If it gets too dry its can crack.

He needs to sharpen its claws and teeth, usually against rock walls.

Diavolo nests in its cavern, always high up, never close to the ground (you won't be able to get out of it without help).

This nest is surrounded by all kinds of treasures did you think the riches of the kings of Devildom were in the palace? No, most of it is in the cavern, accumulated generation after generation.

Very territorial, during his period almost all the employees of the palace must leave him. Also his sense of protection is increased, he will not leave you alone, he will not.

Diavolo's pre-heat consists of very constant feverish moments. But it is easy to detect that the cycle is approaching because of Barbatos.

During his period his appetite and voracity increase, he needs to hunt often, animals and beasts, but also souls trying to escape from the Devildom among other things (he takes the opportunity to go hunting when you sleep).

He will try to feed you, mouth to mouth, but seeing that it don't work, he will switch to giving you small pieces.

Diavolo in his demonic form can generate fire, not only with his magic. Because of your reluctance to eat raw food he started to ‘cook’ it with this fire.

Can speak on very specific occasions, the rest of the time he is non-verbal. His growls are literally demonic, sometimes it scares you and it is very sad to see his expression of guilt :(

As royalty, Diavolo has one of the strongest pheromones in Devildom, many demons are sickened by them (Ha, human insensitivity mode on), he consciously marks everything, especially his mate.

The only way to calm the dragon is direct physical contact, stroking its complex ornaments and wing membranes with your fingers It's like a game to be honest

Press on the muscles of its wings and neck and you will have it completely entranced. He has spent a lot of time alone during his periods and is in need of contact. Initiate physical contact and it will be pure happiness.

And most importantly, show reassurance, it makes him feel insecure to think that you are there against your will.

Diavolo's courtship is a ritual. First it will show off its grandeur by lighting up its scales and perform a nuptial flight where it will display its wings and ornaments.

After this he will look for the rarest prey to give them to you (the day he brought you a baby unicornia you almost fainted, thanks to Barbatos, you were able to get the baby out of there). Finally, he will try to dress you up with all kinds of treasures and jewels to ‘be a couple’.

All his senses are heightened, especially sight and smell.

There is a rumour that he sees everything that happens in Devildom. Which is a lie because you've seen him run into a wall when he's looking beyond it.

Diavolo's temperature increases a lot, despite the coldness of the cave (You slept on his chest because he's super warm? Yes, That from then on he always wanted you to sleep on top of him? Also).

Diavolo's purr is deep and loud. It will resonate throughout the cave, and will usually purr when you are paying attention to him.

Diavolo: *clearly worried*

Mc: *caressing his scales* What's wrong?

Diavolo: Mmmm *looking around*

Mc: *sighing* I'll tell you again, I'm here because I want to, because I want to take care of you, is that so hard to believe?

Diavolo: wrapping them in his wings Thank you…

Mc: *returning the hug* Anytime.

Diavolo: *placing a pearl necklace on their head*

Mc: *sitting on his lap* Dia...

Diavolo: *placing several precious stones on their chest *

Mc: Diavolo, dear.

Diavolo: *holding up a golden tiara to put on them*

Mc: *filled from head to toe with treasures* Diavolo, this is too heavy, it doesn't- stop, please.

Mc: *caressing a fairy that Diavolo has brought them as food*

Diavolo: *staring at the fairy*

Mc: Don't even think about it, if you burn the fairy, I'm out of here.

Diavolo: * indignant dragon sounds *

Mc: It's true... I can't leave here without you, but if you touch the fairy I'll get angry.

The fairy: *about to have a heart attack*

Barbatos

He doesn't sleep during his cycle, no matter how much you bowel, no matter how much you insist, he won't sleep. It is normal to wake up and find him watching you with his eyes wide open.

Light hurts him, during his period his skin becomes sensitive and burns very easily.

Barbatos' skin becomes very pale with a mucous covering. His tail elongates and ridges appear on his back, forearms and legs.

His horns also develop a membrane between their branches.

Its pupils lighten to the point of seeming to disappear, but then return to colour when it is alert. Sometimes you get the sensation that he stops blinking.

To groom himself, barbatos needs a lot of water. During his cycle he will create all kinds of water springs, (he is one of the few demons who can consciously use his powers).

He's not a big fan of you helping him or watching him, he doesn't consider his appearance the most pleasant for a human.

He usually nests in his room, but sometimes opens portals to hidden parts of Devildom or even the human world, the latter more so since you started helping him. He creates a burrow, underground or among roots.

Although he occasionally goes out, he prefers to stay in his den.

Barbatos is dangerous, and possessive, he prefers loneliness with the sole exception of his mate, he is not territorial, I think because no one in their right mind would go near Barbatos during his period.

During his period Barbatos gets headaches, because he sometimes loses control of his powers and timelines overlap in his mind. The only thing you can do in these cases is stay by his side and comfort him :(.

Barbatos doesn't seem to need food. But for pleasure he sometimes devours curious prey (souls, blood of mystical creatures, cursed plants...).

He can talk without any problems, but he doesn't talk much. He prefers to attract attention with caresses or small bites. It is easy to interpret his silences.

During his period, Barbatos generates a lot of pheromones but does not mark. He has no sense of territory and prefers to stay close to his mate all day to avoid others approaching.

At the beginning of the period he will be reluctant to physical contact, he'll keep his distance, partly because of his appearance and partly because of fear of his behaviour. But little by little he will ask for more contact.

Don't touch him if he doesn't ask for it and make sure your hands are always wet or cold because even if he seeks your warmth, the normal temperature of a human could overwhelm him. Good thing we know magic, thanks Solomon.

Barbatos' courtship consists of a kind of lullaby, a humming, in which his skin glows slightly in a beautiful colour, quite frankly it is very mystical and magical. If it sees that you don't get disturbed it will hug you and swim with you for a long time (use magic, use it, or it will give you hypothermia).

Barbatos' senses are completely heightened, nothing escapes his awareness, but this is detrimental because very loud sounds, light or even physical contact can harm him. There are far more stimuli than millennia ago so this is yet another reason to isolate himself.

His temperature drops drastically, but he doesn't seem to have any problems with it.

Barbatos' purring is almost inaudible, you have to be very close to hear it. But it is quite easy for him to purr even though you won't notice it.

Barbatos is feeling quite vulnerable because he hasn't had his period for centuries so he is unfamiliar with his own reactions, and feels lost, although he will never admit it.

Give him confidence, by now, you are a master in demon periods.

Mc: Barbatos, my dear *peeling an apple*

Barbatos: *cuddling on Mc's lap* Hum?

Mc: Is there a reason why you chose one of the most remote places in the human world to spend your period?

Barbatos: … no

Mc: It's not so the brothers can't find me, is it?

Barbatos: … no…

Mc: *stifling laughter* Okay.

Mc: *gently stroking his back* How are you feeling?

Barbatos: *laying down next to them* It… hurts...

Mc: I'm sorry I can't help you *gently pouring water on his forehead.

Barbatos: You're here… that's more than well enough.

Mc: Give me some time and I'll find a way to calm those migraines.

Barbatos: *smiling* I'm sure you will….

Barbatos: I have to say I had forgotten what it was like to live ‘a period’.

Mc: I wonder why you've had them again after so long.

Barbatos: *smiling* It's because of you

Mc: Me?

Barbatos: *shrugging theur cheeks and rubbing their forehead against his * Yes, until you came there was no one who could be my potential mate, and my body knew it. Just like it knows you're here now.

Mc: *blushing* Those words count as courting? because they're working.

If you have made it this far, thank you very much 🩷

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vivvangel · 1 year ago

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sunghoon & lingeries 🧸

synopsis: it's basically the title..sunghoon losing his mind over a lingerie you wore › pairings & contents: bf!hoon x fem!reader ✧ warnings: lingeries, use of nicknames, corruption but ??, smut ━━━━━━ MDNI.

i'm absolutely obsessed with the idea of sunghoon losing his shit when he sees you in a black lingerie (imagine this)

you were his angel girl, his innocent little baby that he loved to corrupt — what the fuck happened? you'd take off your robe and he felt like he came right then and there (not really but mentally he for sure did) because "how can you be such an angel and wear...that?" sunghoon was debating whether or not he could even consider it clothing because oh my god, he could see your tits. he would be beyond confused, and of course, turned on.

he'd almost be too infatuated to touch you, and when you sat on his lap — he's internally (s)creaming. he would always, always be cocky, and borderline mean in bed but this time? he felt weak in his knees. how could he not? by the time you kiss him, he's a goner. he'd be so handsy, touching you anywhere he could, which was literally everywhere. he would lay you down, looking down at you, not sure what to do. you look like a piece of art, and all he wanted was to ruin you.

as much as he didn't want to rip it off your body, how could he not? when he does rip it off, he groans out at how beautiful you are. he wastes no time, spreading your legs to reveal your wet cunt — he dives right in, devouring every inch of your pussy, he looks up at your expression, with your coat dripping off his chin. when you come onto his tongue, he swallows every bit of it, telling you how good you taste.

let's not even get started when he fucks you in plain missionary, he's so pussy drunk & honestly, by you. you're a drug and he's addicted. he cannot get enough of you, ever. seeing you cum on his dick makes him lose his mind even more, chanting sweet nothings to you as he cums inside you.

to conclude, hoon is obsessed with you — end of discussion.

viv's note 💌 : loveuall🫶🏻

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melancholymetropolis · 6 months ago

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“Lord have mercy,” the plump woman clenched the couch cushion tighter. “Logan. . . Please. . .”

Seated on the floor between her separated thighs and bunched up sundress was a man pulling her panties to the side. The wolverine’s hot mouth fanned the moist folds of her glistening cunt causing the woman to shiver. His deep brown eyes flickered up to hers, a question in his gaze. The woman took her bottom lip between her teeth and gave the older gentleman a slow nod. Every rational thought had drifted away the moment Logan captured her lips in a heated kiss.

To think it all started with a pyrex dish filled with homemade lasagna.

As a woman born and raised in North Carolina, Y/N L/N knew a thing or two about Southern Hospitality. She has distinct memories of her mom baking muffins for the new families in the neighborhood and offering juice boxes to any child playing in the sweltering heat. She was early for every council meeting, funeral and church picnic there was.

Y/N's mama was the kind to spread love everywhere she went and managed to wear down even the grumpiest assholes there ever were.

Sadly, Y/N didn't have that gift.

At least she thought she didn't.

Logan Howlet was the grumpiest man she'd ever met. He didn't speak to anyone, always kept his head down and pretended not to hear the crappy things people said about him. He frequented the liquor stor as if it were a second job, but never smelled like liquor somehow.

He had all but slammed the door in Y/N’s face when she offered him the glass dish. The younger woman thanked the heavens his roommate, Wade, swooped in to rescue the tilting dish from crashing on the patio floor.

The man's dripping tongue slid from her oozing center to her aching bud. The plump woman groaned loudly from the action and leaned further onto the arm of the couch. With one leg thrown over his shoulder and the other attempting to keep her balance, Y/N realized how obscure the position— fuck it through whole situation was.

One minute she was at the door, dropping off Wade's monthly pan of lasagna and the next Logan was pushing her against the kitchen counters, kissing her silly. He didn't bother ripping her dress off completely. Just broke a few buttons to gain access to her heavy breasts. One of his hands was gently squeezing the mound as his tongue tapped at her bud.

The soft muscle swirled around her clit before the lips latched onto it. The older man sucked on the bud tenderly, whilst gripping her thigh so tightly she was sure it would leave bruises the next day. The sounds coming from her lips didn't feel light her own as the ripples of pleasure moved along her nerves like dancers. The plump woman took her bottom lip between her teeth as she watched his move against her womanhood. The salt and pepper hair atop his head nestled between her brown skin was something out of a dream. The sounds of his throaty groans as his sucked her cunt had turned her brain to goo and somehow made her even wetter.

"Take them off," Y/N said, suddenly. "My panties. They're getting in the way."

"Yes, Ma'am! Although, that will be a little hard to do considering Wolfy's posi--- oh shit! You absolutely weren't talking to me like at all," an annoying familiar voice sounds causing us to freeze in place. "But, I wish you would start to because I am about to bust just----"

"Either get the fuck out or come over here and put that mouth to use," Logan snapped, rising to his feet and staring pointedly at Wade. "Because I do not have the time for your bullshit today."

"I'll take option numero dos, Alex," the taller gentleman practically skipped to the couch. "If it is okay with the lady?"

"I'm. . . uh. . . I'm fine with it?"

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

Part II

this scene has been stuck in my head since I seen the film last weekend.

fun fact: I used to be a MASSIVE Marvel fan before the pandemic and secretly wrote Steve Rogers fics.

if you want a full piece, comment or send an ask.

Been thinking of writing some throuple stories. Thoughts?

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starrydali · 2 months ago

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*ੈ✩‧₊˚✧˖*°࿐Leo Valdez can’t stop thinking about you. Whether he's fixing things or working on the Argo II, your name always ends up somewhere—etched into blueprints, carved into walls, scribbled under tables. It started as a small habit, but now it’s like he can’t help himself. He doesn’t even realize what he's doing anymore. Meanwhile, you’re shy and flustered every time you spot it, trying not to let him know how much it makes your heart flutter. His little secret is everywhere, and you can’t help but find it sweet. ✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

part 1

You’re wandering the Argo II, minding your own business, when you spot it—your name, etched faintly into the edge of a railing.

“Is that...?” You squint, running your fingers over the carving.

“Y/n.”

You shake your head, figuring it’s just a one-off thing, but then you find it again. On the control panel in the engine room. On the edge of the table in the dining area. Even on the side of a wrench lying in the workshop.

“Leo,” you mutter under your breath, your cheeks heating up.

Before you can second-guess yourself, you march off to find him. You don’t have to look far—he’s sprawled on a chair near the workshop, tinkering with a small gadget.

“Leo!”

He looks up, already grinning like he knows exactly what you’re about to say. “Hey, sunshine. What’s up?”

You hold up the wrench, pointing to your name. “Why is my name on this?”

Leo doesn’t even flinch. “Oh, that? Yeah, I do that sometimes.”

“Sometimes?” You’re trying not to sound flustered, but your voice comes out way higher than you intended. “Leo, my name is everywhere. I just found it carved into the ship’s railing!”

He leans back, folding his arms behind his head with a cocky smile. “What can I say? You’re always on my mind.”

Your face feels like it’s on fire. “That’s... That’s ridiculous! You can’t just—”

“Oh, but I can,” he interrupts smoothly, standing up and taking the wrench from your hand. “See, when I’m building something, I gotta put a little of you into it. Makes it better.”

“That doesn’t even make sense!” you protest, but your voice wavers because, honestly, what are you even supposed to say to that?

Leo steps closer, his grin widening. “Admit it. You think it’s sweet. Maybe even a little romantic?”

You stammer, trying to think of a comeback, but nothing comes out.

He smirks and tilts his head. “Tell you what—give me a kiss, and I might consider toning it down.”

Your brain short-circuits. “W-what?! Leo!”

He laughs, absolutely delighted at your reaction. “Relax, sunshine. I’m kidding. Mostly.”

You cross your arms, avoiding his gaze. “You’re impossible.”

Leo shrugs, still smirking. “And yet, you’re still here, holding my wrench like it’s a love letter.”

You groan, shoving the wrench at him. “You’re so full of yourself.”

He winks, twirling the wrench like it’s a trophy. “Nah, I’m just full of you, sunshine. You’re in my head, my heart, and apparently, all over the ship.”

You spin on your heel to leave, your face burning, but you catch his voice as you go.

“Don’t worry, Y/n!” he calls after you. “I’ll save you a spot on my next invention. Maybe I’ll carve ‘Leo + Y/n’ in a heart this time!”

You don’t turn around, but you can’t stop the small, flustered smile spreading across your face.

✧. ┊ ⁭Send requests! :)

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hwangism143 · 2 months ago

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all i want for christmas

synopsis the three christmas parties minho spent loving you and the one where he finally told you.

pairing non-idol!minho x fem!reader

genre holidays, best friends to lovers, fluff, comfort, 3 + 1 format

warnings mentions of foods, fires, cheating, physical violence (jokingly), swearing, pregnancy ;) , kissing, not proofread

word count 4.3k words

now playing all i want for christmas - mariah carey

a/n wow. so. i'm back. i genuinely missed you guys so much and im so happy to write again. i felt really guilty for just disappearing but this might be my only fic for a while. im sorry if it's bad im genuinely so out of practice.

"i don't need a lot for christmas, there is just one thing i need"

zero.

Love was a dreadful, terrible thing. Minho knew firsthand.

He also knew that love could be beautiful. It existed everywhere.

It existed when Minho would feel a smile break out on his face when he would step through his door to the sound of his cats. He knew it existed in the way Chan always made sure that Seungmin had eaten and Jeongin wasn't too hard on himself. It existed in the way Hyunjin wore his emotional scars with pride and in the way Changbin's face would scrunch up adorably as soon as he saw his girlfriend.

But love must be a horrendous thing if it could someone as deserving of it as you through such excruciating pain.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

year one.

Minho always associated loving you with Christmas. It was mainly for two reasons: because you loved Christmas, and Christmas was when he realized he loved you.

Minho had become your best friend on the first day of college when you stumbled into him while looking for your batchmates after orientation. It was almost fate (despite Minho considering fate to be bullshit), the way he held onto your shoulders to make sure your face didn't hit the floor and you gave him a weak, petrified smile.

"Computer Science major?" he asked, and your quick reply in the positive laid the foundations of your unbreakable friendship.

Minho knew he loved you for a long time. But the realization of it dawned on him during your annual Christmas party when the two of you were in your second year of college.

You were absolutely fanatical about Christmas. Despite Minho's protests about your fascination being sickening, he secretly found it extremely endearing. You had confessed to him once, how your love for Christmas stemmed from the fact that you only saw your father during Christmas due to his demanding job of a military's medic.

That was the day Minho vowed to make sure nobody could ruin your Christmas.

You went all out Christmas decorations at your apartment. Your Christmas tree was huge and adorned with ornaments of various shapes, sizes and colours. Minho came early to help you and your roommate Kyujin with the Christmas baking, considering how last time the two of you tried to bake it took swatting towels and spraying water to get the smoke detector to stop.

But you were most excited to introduce your boyfriend to the rest of your friend group.

Minho wasn't happy about it, but he was happy for you. You loved the idea of romance but for some reason that Minho could not fathom, thought yourself undeserving of receiving the romantic variant of it. But your first boyfriend, whom you'd been seeing for three months, quickly changed that.

You were practically bouncing up and down on your toes as your mutual friends trailed into your tiny apartment.

"Y/N!" Jisung squealed as he barreled into your arms.

"Sungie!" you replied in equal enthusiasm.

Minho's heart melted watching you, his best friend, and Jisung, his roommate, getting along so well. In fact, sometimes he felt third wheeled by his two favorite people who wouldn't have known each other if it wasn't for him.

"Tonight," Jisung declared proudly, "I will serenade Minho with a tear-jerking rendition of 'All I Want For Christmas'."

Jisung stood on top of your couch, arms spread out proudly. He sent Minho a boisterous wink and Minho tried to hide a chuckle while rolling his eyes.

"The only tears shed will be because of Jisung's pathetic voice," grumbled Hyunjin, Jisung's best friend, already dreading the moment when he would have to drag his drunk and sappy ass back home.

Your cheeks turned pink in a poorly contained laugh while Hyunjin just gave you a shrug, only the three of you privy to Hyunjin's comment. Minho saw your face and found his own flushing, quickly blinking to make sure nobody noticed. Jisung shot Minho, you and Hyunjin an accusatory glance, but your little smirk caused him to look away in annoyance.

"I will not date you, Jisung," said Minho in an overly dramatic voice. Jisung pouted and this time, the whole room burst into laughter until Kyujin yelled a string of obscenities at him to get him off the couch.

But throughout the whole debacle, Minho's eyes only belonged to you. He couldn't help but wonder, how would you feel about dating him? These feeling had been brewing for long, even before you started dating Taehyun What's-His-Face. Minho knew he had feeling for you, but today he would realize just how deep they ran.

"You okay? Your cheeks are red man. Like, tomato red," asked the ever vigilant Chan.

"Oh, um, yeah. I'm good," replied Minho nervously, hoping that Chan didn't notice.

"Yep," said Chan, clearly unconvinced, his eyes still narrowed on Minho.

Minho did not get nervous easily. He was calm, stoic, composed. But around you, he was a ticking time bomb. You made Minho feel like a thousand dazzling fireworks had lit up in his stomach. You made him want to be spontaneous, silly and scream from the rooftops that he liked you and wanted to be with you.

You made Minho feel things he had never felt before, and it broke him everyday watching you feel those same things for someone who wasn't him.

Minho's eyes looked for yours, you slipping away sometime when he was contemplating his lost love. He finally found you, leaning against Kyujin bedroom door. Your loose sweater hung off a shoulder and pointer finger of your right hand was caught between your teeth. In your other hand was your phone which lit up when you opened.

God, you looked ethereal.

Until your eyes flickered up and down, you blinked multiple times and your brow creased while your bottom lip quivered. Minho had known you long and intimately enough that something was very, very wrong. Before you even looked up at him, your eyes conveying a silent cry, Minho was striding towards you like a man on a mission.

"Minho," you choked out, and he whisked you into Kyujin's room, giving a concerned Kyujin watching everything a tight nod as he did.

"Minho, Minho, he -" you were sobbing, gasping in wretched breaths that made it feel like a knife was twisting into his heart.

He watched you nearly terrified, rubbing your back soothingly. Minho murmured sweet nothings into your ear to get you to calm down and explain to him what had happened as his on heart raced at nearly a thousand miles per hour.

"What happened sweetheart? Y/N?" Minho asked, his voice laced with worry.

Wordlessly, you handed over your phone to him as you buried your face into his shoulder.

[7:32 PM]

taehyunnie: look y/n, i hate to do this on christmas but

taehyunnie: i have had something come up

taehyunnie: so i won't make it

[7:34 PM]

taehyunnie: quite frankly, we should break up

taehyunnie: i don't think either of us is in the right mental state to date right now.

taehyunnie: sorry.

Minho was seeing red. How could someone do something like this to you? You, who was perfect to the extent where even your imperfections were perfect? Minho was about to ask you what day you would like for him to murder Taehyun when you interrupted him.

"He's not wrong," you said, your voice barely a whisper. "I was so excited to date someone that I probably got to clingy and scared him off."

"That's not true," said Minho shaking your shoulders, "That's not true, anybody would be tripping over their feet to date you."

And as Minho repeated those words to you like a chant, over and over again until you believed them as much as he did, he felt a sinking feeling in his chest. Guilt simmered in his stomach because of the thoughts he was having.

Amidst the winter chill and your broken cries, Lee Minho realized that he was hopelessly and damningly in love with you.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

year two.

The second year Minho spent Christmas with you, things had changed. Minho's hair grew longer, curling at the base of his neck and you forbade him from cutting it. You had let go over your initial heartbreak from the events of the previous Christmas and for some reason, deluded yourself into thinking that you were unlovable.

The only thing that barely changed was Minho's love for you, apart from maybe how it increased in magnitude.

"You should tell her, you know. Or else you'll end up regretting it," remarked Hyunjin wisely.

The ever so observant boy was the only one who knew about Minho felt when it came to you. Even then, he didn't know the uncharted depth of how much Minho loved you. Just that he hopelessly and unequivocally did.

Minho glared at him in response, snatching a brownie from Hyunjin's hand, and began eating it as Hyunjin grumbled next to him in vain.

Minho was well aware that he was right. But he (foolishly), thought he was sparing you pain by miserably keeping his feelings to himself.

Minho hated and adored every second of loving you. He hated how stifling it was, not being able to whisper soft words of romance in your ear late at night and wake with you in his arms the next morning. But he adored how his heart picked up pace at just the sight of you and how he felt weightless at your featherlight brushes of his arm.

To put it simply, loving someone from afar was as temperamental as the oceans; the tides were hauntingly beautiful and gorgeously devastating but they were impossible to escape from.

An ugly metaphor, felt Minho, who had yet to master the art of swimming.

Minho sat on the couch, Hyunjin and Jeongin playing Mario Kart on one side of him and Chan and Kyujin engaged in an intense game of Uno on the other side of him. You were off socializing as you often did during your annual Christmas parties, but Minho knew you would come back to him.

You always did.

Minho set up shop at five in the morning that day with you. Kyujin had a Christmas dance recital that day, and you both were one set of hands down. From morning, the two of you diced, rolled and baked, dusted and decorated, troubled each other and even had a little tickling bout followed by a pillow fight (and plate of burnt snowman shaped cookies).

This was the future that Minho wanted, you by his side engaging in mundane activities with lazy, soft kisses peppered to each others lips every dya.

He watched, sick with envy, as Changbin scooped up his girlfriend Chaeyeon in his arms and start pressing kisses to her face while she squealed. Minho watched in dread and unease at all the couples around him engaged in extravagant acts of romance and subtle domesticity, dreaming of when, if ever, that would be you and him.

He was so distracted by the torrential current inside him that he hadn't noticed when Kyujin and Chan shifted their game to the kitchen island and you had sat down next him.

"Hi," you told him softly.

Minho blinked rapidly a the voice he would recognize anywhere, the one that beckoned him in his dreams and went silent in his nightmares. Behind you, Jisung and Seungmin were brazenly building a stacked tower of cookies which Minho knew would fall and create a mess unless prevented, but he chose to ignore it.

"Hey," replied Minho, turning around to drink in your entire figure.

"I'm happy I've detached from romance, Minho," you informed him as your arm brushed his, "I don't think dating's for me and..."

Your voice trailed off and you turned to look at him, look into his eyes with an oddly melancholic smile that was contradictory to your earlier statement of happiness.

"I think I'm finally healing."

And under the Christmas lights with you in your Santa hat with the tip of your nose tinted pink from the cold, Minho had never loved and lost more.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

year three.

Christmas this year was filled to the brim with nagging from your end about why Minho refused to find a girlfriend despite your self-proclaimed temporary vow of celibacy. It was also the year that Minho realized the importance of the time he had with you.

"Come on Min," you groaned at Minho as he pulled up his sleeves and start kneading the cookie dough, "You'll love Sullyoon."

No, he wanted to say, I love you.

Instead, he responded with, "If I'm off with a girl, who'll make sure Jisung, Kyujin and Hyunjin don't end up burning down the apartment?"

You just laughed and made your way from behind the counter to the dining table, where Minho was busy at work. After he was done, you took the dough, neatly rolled and cut the cookies into shape and propped them in the oven. Minho was busy setting up a Christmas movie in the living room and you sat next to him, closing your eyes and resting your head on his shoulder.

Minho would have tensed, if it weren't for how habitual he had become to these touches form you he was the recipient of after practically moving in with you.

Kyujin moved out of the apartment after she got a part time job at a dance institute about a half hour away from where you both lived. She needed the easy commute, and rent was not that difficult to pay for you due to your comfortable internship since sophomore year of college at a reputed tech company.

Minho, the only other person who was in the internship program with you, basically lived at your apartment. He had his own bed, clothes and even toothbrush at your apartment. He stayed nearly five nights in a row, going back to his actual apartment over the weekends to make sure that Jisung was alive and feeding himself more than just chicken breast.

This new development caused Minho to think that maybe, just maybe you harbored feelings for him the way he did for you. The two of you basically functioned like a live-in couple, so much so that your neighbors would mistake Minho for your boyfriend more often than not.

That's why Minho couldn't understand why you were so insistent about him meeting Sullyoon.

The party started soon after. Seungmin begrudgingly wore a Santa hat on his head and Jeongin clicked a picture of him at every possible occasion. Hyunjin and Chan introduced their girlfriends and everybody positively loved Karina and Lisa. Jisung gushed to everyone about the current guy he liked, Yeonjun, and Changbin informed his friends that on New Years, he planned to propose.

In the midst of it all sat Minho and you, arms looped around each other, both feeling love of different magnitudes.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

You were dragging Minho to meet Sullyoon, evidently sitting in your room, despite his protests. You were wearing a long, billowy dress with a checkered pattern of red and white boxes that Minho teased made you look like a picnic blanket. But the truth was he loved it, he loved you and he did not love being taken to meet another woman by the one he was in love with.

"Have fun!" you grinned and shut the door behind yourself, waltzing away with immense satisfaction.

Minho let out a defeated sigh and turned around to see the fabled Seol Yoon-A, affectionately called Sullyoon. He could tell why you were gushing over her. She wore a red dress with a small bow, had pretty doe eyes and was beautiful no doubt.

But nothing in Minho's head could compare to you.

"So," Sullyoon laughed sweetly, "She threatened you to be here too, huh?"

"Yep," responded Minho curtly and in defeat.

Sullyoon got up and made his way to him, arms snaking around his shoulder and for a terrifying moment, he didn't want her to stop. Not because he enjoyed it, but maybe because this would help him get over you, you who would never love him the way he loved you.

But then the scent of Sullyoon's vanilla perfume hit Minho and it was nothing like your fragrant lilac mist. It was nothing like you.

Minho gently moved Sullyoon's arms from they were and took a step back. Sullyoon raised an eyebrow and studied him. She then snorted and sat down on the bed again.

"Ah. So you are in love with her," she said matter-of-factly.

"I-what-," Minho stuttered, unable to figure out what to say to such a statement.

Sullyoon sighed and patted the space beside her. "It's obvious you know. All men are stupid." And under her breath she added, "Thank god I also like girls. Much more mature."

Minho sat down, Sullyoon gave him a knowing look, and he told her everything. He told her about how he met you, how he realized he loved you and how he thought you might like him too. He told her about your favorite color, the way you always wore two extra rubber bands because one always seemed to break.

When he was done with it all, Sullyoon gave him a comforting pat and said, "You are in some deep shit, Minho."

"How would you know?" he scoffed.

Sullyoon shit eating grin turned sad, "Because I went through the same thing you did."

This time it was Minho's turn to survey Sullyoon, to try and understand what she went through that made her so intimately understand his situation.

"I was hopelessly in love with my best friend, but I didn't tell him for two years. When I finally did, I found out that even though he didn't completely feel the same, he was willing to give it a try. Loving him was the best year of my life. And he fell in love with me too. We were attached at the hip and I will never forgive myself for what happened."

Minho had a bad feeling that this story did not end happily. He swallowed a lump in his throat and asked, "What happened?"

Sullyoon had a smile on her face and tears in her eyes. "I held Felix as he died."

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

year four.

[5:23 PM]

sullyoonie-tunes: so. today's the day, huh.

[5:24 PM]

You (Minho): today's the day.

[5:27 PM]

sullyoonie-tunes: MY BROTHER IS NO LONGER BITCHLESS

sullyoonie-tunes: not insinutating that y/n is a bitch of course

sullyoonie-tunes: YOU'RE the bitch

sullyoonie-tunes: she's an angel

sullyoonie-tunes: pls dont kill me

[5:30 PM]

You (Minho): are you done???

"Hey, who are you texting?" you asked Minho, settling down next to him on his bed.

"Ah, Sullyoon," he responded.

You smiled at him, pulling his blanket over the two of you and weaving your fingers through his hair. "When did you two become so close?"

Minho snorted, "When I got her a girlfriend." And now she's getting me one, he left unsaid.

"Oh, I adore Haewon," you smiled, setting your head on Minho's shoulder.

Minho decided that if he was ever going to confess his feelings to you, it would be during Chrismas. You loved Christmas, he loved you, and what would be more perfect than that?

Over the course of the last year, you and Minho were offered permanent jobs at the company you were interning at. Minho had officially moved in with you, and had learned to live with the fact that he could only love you from a distance, completely unaware of the turmoil you felt about your feelings towards him.

Minho had also developed a strong friendship with Sullyoon, who he truly saw as a younger sister. He helped her meet Haewon, and she helped him dissect every move you made to glean information that would support Minho's hypothesis of you maybe liking him back.

Minho had expected his love for you to pass, to ebb and flow away with the changing seasons.

Instead, it blossomed into something he would forever live with. Minho was madly in love. To him, you weren't just a love.

To him, you hung to moon, stitched the stars onto the sky and gave the cosmos every diaphanous colour it glowed with.

The doorbell rang five times in rapid succession and Minho leapt off his bed. "He's mine," he laughed, watching you struggle to get out of the cocoon you had made for yourself in his blanket.

"Well he clearly loves me more," you retorted, catching up to Minho at the door who, ever the gentleman, opened for you.

Chaeyeon smiled at you and behind her was a beaming Changbin. In his hands he held two things. A large bag in one hand and a carrier in the other. You and Minho urgently ushered the two inside and Chaeyeon placed a gift on the kitchen counter.

"Meet Seo Sun-woo," said Changbin proudly, and you and Minho gushed over Changbin and Chaeyeon's two month old son.

Ever since Chaeyeon had announced she was pregnant after her and Changbin's wedding, a sense of reality dawned upon your entire friend group. You had to grow up, become mature and fend for yourself in this world. Gone were the days when you and Minho would party hop playing beer pong. Now, you both stayed up talking about your future and you hopes, dreams and aspiraitons.

You dreamt of making a name for yourself in the tech world, starting a company that would teach disabled kids coding and give them opportunities to work for gigantic tech companies. Minho dreamt of you and with that came the silent promise of adopting your dreams as his own.

"I want kids some day," you said as you held baby Seo in your lap. This year's party was quieter, much more secluded and only had your direct close circle of friends, "with Chris and Lisa expecting twins and even Hyunjin adopting a dog for Karina, it feels like everyone is growing their family."

Minho pouted. "Am I not growing your family?"

You laughed, "Minho, you've always been home."

Minho gave you quite possibly the widest smile until he heard a tin can fall to the ground and a set of four groans erupt from your bedroom. "Look, we're practically raising Jisung, Felix, Seungmin and Jeongin."

You sighed in affectionate annoyance. "In between them and SonnieDoongieDori, I think that's enough family expansion for now."

Another crash came from your room and you both shared a knowing look. You either got the situation under control, or something broke.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

"I feel dead," you moaned, falling onto the sofa after cleaning up well into the night. The party had ended with Lisa unceremoniously vomiting on the floor and everyone ushering her out and enquiring about her state of well-being.

"Let's go, I have one last present for you," Minho coaxed you out of your shell in the sofa, his own heart pounding incessantly.

"Just give it tomo-"

"I'll dump the litter box in your-"

"Fine," you groaned, "Ten minutes and then we start our Home Alone movie marathon."

Minho nodded, to anxious to argue, "Deal."

Both of you stepped out onto the balcony where the cold nipped at you. There were still couples strolling outside and children hurling snowballs at each other. Christmas lights covered virtually every apartment in sight, red and green lights glowing in tandem.

"What is it?" you asked, looking around him for maybe a box or a letter. Minho stood frozen in the anxiety of every way you could say no to him, until you nudged him back to reality.

Minho coughed. "It's not so much a thing and more of something I have to say."

"Oh."

Minho looked at the way your hair curled at the bottom, grazing the hem of your sweatpants. He looked at your jackets' cuffs, stained with chocolate when you both were lathering Nutella over a layer of cook. He looked at your face, full of beauty and kindness.

But mostly he looked at you, strong, gracious, and lover of Christmas.

Minho thought that confessing his love for you would be the hardest thing he's ever done. Instead, it came as naturally to him as snow falling on the streets of Seoul in winter.

"I love you," the confession fell from his lips. "I have loved you for four years and I will spend the rest of my life loving you if you'll let me. You understand me on a level that nobody else ever has. I love you Y/N, and I have never known anything else the way I have known that."

A song started in him that time, a scratchy beat of hopeful terror that started from his toes and came up to his heart.

"Plus, the cats won't accept anyone apart from you as their mother, and that includes Lix," he added for good measure.

You stared at him for what seemed like an eternity, and Minho felt his initial confidence wearing off. That was until you launched yourself into his arms, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist. Minho wrapped his arms around you, a sigh of relief escaping form his mouth.

"You don't know how long I've loved you for," you mumbled into his sweater.

And everything came to a beautiful crescendo when the nights Minho spent tossing and turning, the four years of assumed unrequited agony did not go in van because you loved him.

You loved him.

That night, Minho held you tightly in his arms underneath the blanket and was at a complete disregard of Kevin's plight in New York. He pressed kisses to every exposed surface he could find, your giggles louder than the shenanigans the character was playing on TV.

"This festival is my whole world," you told him with love brimming in his eyes.

Minho then finally told you three words that he believed summed up everything he felt towards you for the entire time he's ever known you.

"And you're mine."

please reblog and comment if you liked this fic! it means everything to me and I love reading your thoughts <3

: ̗̀➛ current permanent taglist:

@linoalwaysknows @moon0fthenight @hyulino @palindrome969

@squishybinnieee @lastgreatamericandynasty1 @stayinlimbo @farfromsugafanfic

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@seooj444 @soaplickerrr @nappynapnaps @lina-linny @yrqrnc

@calypsohan @minluvly

also tagging @stayblrofficial for their christmas writing event!

#StayblrHolidayEvent #minho x reader #minho x y/n #minho #- via's fics <3 #lee know #lee know fluff #lee know imagines #lee know x reader #lee know x y/n #lee know x you

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thehighladywrites · 9 months ago

Text

lowered inhibitions.

pairing: plug azriel x reader

summary: Your cousins Eris and Lucien throw a party celebrating their father’s death. All of their close allies and friends show up. You meet Azriel, the hot, stranger who offers you a test of his personal stash. Of course he helps you smoke it too.

warnings: 18+, smut, fucking literally everywhere, tension, weed, smoking, drugs, weapons, criminal underworld, it’s all very cool, everyone is dabbling in some sort of illegal activity, weapons dealers, drug dealers, azriel becoming hypnotized by you

amara’s note: part one to the dealer diaries, pls lovelies don’t mind this omg

next episode! — cop cassian arrests you for selling drugs, so you seduce him into letting you go

series masterlist

Azriel is one of the top plugs in Prythian, always at every party, lounging on the couch with his legs spread, a blunt held between his thumb and pointer fingers.

Customers always hang around him, casually buying bags of weed and pills from him at every event.

Tonight, the Vanserra brothers have decided to throw a massive party celebrating their father's passing and the brothers taking over the business—it was definitely a cause for celebration.

The entire city was invited, so that's how Azriel finds himself in the corner of their penthouse, surrounded by his friends and allies. A table adorned with pills, weed, and alcohol— some from Azriel's inventory, some from Rhysand’s — stood prominently, ready to fuel the night's festivities.

Tonight’s party have made Azriel sell a ton of product, raking in well over his regular profit. He feels tempted to leave, considering he has tripled what he usually earns in just a single night. And as one of the most successful plugs in the city, Azriel makes serious money.

At last, he decides to stay a few more minutes, perhaps to scan the place for more potential clients. His eyes are bloodshot and low-lidded as they lazily scan the room before landing on you.

His eyes widen fractionally as he takes you in, dressed in a pretty little skirt and top. Without a doubt, you are the most beautiful girl he has ever seen. As you smoke with Feyre, he can't help but wonder about you, since he haven't seen you before—surely he would have noticed you.

“Yo, why are you staring at my cousin like that?” Lucien's questioning voice pulls Azriel out of his trance. He takes a drag from his blunt, inhaling deeply as he watch you hit a dab pen, before finally tearing his gaze away to look at Lucien.

“You're dreaming,” he says, trying to appear unaffected by the tiny bit of information he receive.

Cassian and Rhys exchange knowing glances with Lucien and Eris, all four males on the verge of bursting into laughter at Azriel's useless attempt to appear unbothered.

“Yeah, right. You're undressing her with your sneaky eyes,” Cassian tease, snatching the blunt from Azriel's fingers, inhaling and doing tricks.

Azriel narrows his eyes at him before snatching it back, taking one final drag before stubbing it out in the ashtray.

“I'm not doing anything, dickhead. I'm just looking for clients,” he retort, trying to play it cool.

Eris snorts, downing his glass of amber liquid. “Don’t go 'looking for clients' in my cousin. She’s very sweet, so if you're serious, try your luck. Otherwise, don’t,” Eris says, his tone growing serious.

Both he and Lucien are extremely fond of you, viewing you as a little sister, especially since your mother, their aunt, had passed away a few years ago.

—

A thick, yellow-tinted cloud of fog fills the room, your eyes low-lidded and bloodshot as you take a drag from the blunt, the aroma filling the air.

You are well aware of what your cousins do for a living, the illegal business they run, but you have always stayed out of it. For generations, your family have been in the weapons industry, illegally selling and distributing weapons to whomever paid the hefty sum.

Lucien and Eris make sure to keep that part out of your life, even though all of you know where the money came from.

You don’t care about any of it, and it is easy to evade guilt, especially since your friend Feyre and her family are also deeply involved in the criminal underworld of Prythian.

"Involved" is an understatement—the Vanserra’s, Feyre and Rhysand’s family, and five other families are the top 0.1% of the city, with their fingers in every business imaginable.t

To avoid raising suspicions, money still have to flow in legally. Casinos, nightclubs, bars, restaurants, and hotels are just a few of the ventures almost everyone in your circle own. It’s a delicate balance between legitimate businesses and the shadowy underworld they operate in.

You smile as you place the fat, neatly rolled blunt between your plump lips, taking another drag. The head glows orange, the paper dissolving into ash as you slowly inhale the smoke, giggling softly at Feyre’s horrible jokes. You inhale again, holding the smoke in your lungs before exhaling it slowly through your nose, enjoying the tranquil haze settling over you.

When you smoke, it's like slipping into a realm of carelessness, freedom, and pure relaxation. It's a sensation that washes over you, freeing your mind from the everyday life.

And you love that sinful feeling. You love it so much, that you can’t help but bring the blunt to your lips for another drag.

Sure it was unhealthy and very harmful, but damn it felt good.

“That’s your second blunt, you good?”

With a dramatic sigh, you meet her eyes, putting it out so you didn’t green out.

“I’m sad, Fey. Because my stash’s running low and my plug is a fucking asshole who has shitty prices for shitty weed. I need to find someone else.”

“I don’t know why you bother with this cheap shit, babe. If you need a new plug, I know a guy. Good prices, quality products. I swear one blunt is enough for me and Rhys to share. We always get ours from him; he’s a brother to us,” Feyre chimes in, her voice cheery.

You perk up at the possibility of finding a new source, intrigued by the promise of better quality. You staywith your current plug because you don’t have the heart to stop buying from him. Honestly, you’re loaded so you can afford amazing things but you still felt bad. But you were desperate now and as much as you liked your plug, you needed something new.

“He's actually here, he’s the one sitting next to Cassian and Eris. Want me to call him over?” Feyre asks, her voice filled with eagerness to help.

Following her gaze to the table where your cousins sit, your eyes lock with the guy, causing a flutter in your stomach. You trail your gaze over his built body, from top to toe. He is dressed in a black dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, he has one rolled blunt behind his ear and another lit one between his lips., His low eyes are fixed on you with a smirk so small you almost miss it.

The best part about him are the tattoos decorating his neck, arms and hands. You give him a small smile before carefully turning back to Feyre, making sure he can’t read your lips.

“Okay, who is that, where the fuck did he come from? And why the fuck isn’t he on top of me right now?” you whisper urgently to Feyre.

Feyre bursts into laughter, throwing her head back as she slaps your arm playfully.

“That’s Azriel. He grew up with Cassian and Rhys and he’s very chill. And very single, wanna do something about that?” she smiles, looking between you two.

“Do i wanna— of course i do, Fey, hello? What a pretty man, holy fuck.”

You carefully look over your shoulder only to be met with him holding eye contact and standing up, your eyes going up as you follow his height.

Yeah, no way were you letting him slip away.

Feyre quickly whispers into you ear about how you better do something, a little good luck and a kiss on the cheek before she scurries away to Rhysand.

“Hi there.”

You smile as you greet him. “Hi.”

“Where did you get that?”Azriel's deep timber voice sends shivers down your spine as he nods to the blunt between your fingers.

“I bought it from my dealer. Why?” you smile a little as you bring it to your lips.

Azriel smiles right back. His eyes crinkle when he smiles, making him look impossibly more handsome.

“Nah, just lettin’ you know there’s better shit out there.” He reaches behind his ear and hands you a new, neatly rolled blunt.

“Come smoke this with me. If you don’t like it, I won’t bother you again. If you do, let me take you out for dinner,” he raises his eyebrows, a boyish smile on his face as he looks you up and down.

“Fair.”

The eye contact is intense. He looks at you hungrily, making your insides flip.

“What’s your name, beautiful?”

You tell him your name, blushing as he puts his arm on your shoulder, repeating it over and over, your name sounding almost forbidden.

—

“This is really strong,” you cough as you look up at him, handing the blunt back to Azriel.

He puts a hand on your back, rubbing up and down carefully. “You need some help?”

You nod, eyes filling with tears from the potent smoke. Azriel looks you in the eyes as he takes a tattooed hand and inhales the smoke, then lowers his head to yours. He puts his thumb on your chin, opening your mouth as he exhales the smoke into your mouth.

You feel your entire body relax at his touch, on instinct, you get closer and closer to him. The smoke doesn’t feel as intense this way but you still felt the effects.

You also feel like jumping on his dick this second. And Eris won’t mind that you’re using his guest bed right?

“You feeling good, pretty girl?”

“I feel really, really good,” you let out a sigh of content, turning your body to face him.

“You look good, ” you addwith lower inhibitions, watching him with a hazy gaze as you take in his deep breaths and flushed cheeks. His sweat-dampened skin glistened under the ambient light as his words rolls around your clouded mind.

“Yeah? How good do i look?”

—

Okay, it’s not really insane that you got high and fucked a stranger right? No, of course not. His stroke game is out of this world and he is really nice, so yeah, you gave him head! Then got bent, then got fucked missionary, then against Eris’s wall, then in Lucien’s bathroom, someone’s office and just about anywhere really. The party downstairs never seemed to end and neither did getting fucked either.

—

Your head rolls back as the effects of the drugs make you lightheaded and fuzzy. You’re slowly rolling your hips back and forth, grinding in Azriel’s lap. His warm, large hands grip your soft hips as he guides you.

“I need you in my life, i swear,” he whispers — or think he does. You blink down at him, putting your hands on his chest as you kiss him deeply, sucking and lightly biting his lip.

Azriel puts his arm around your waist, locking you in place as he kisses you back with need, tilting his head a little to the right to go deeper.

“I can’t believe I’ve never met you before. Let me take you out tomorrow night, please.”

“O-okay, that sounds good— oh, wait— fuckkk,” your breathless response turn into whines and broken moans as he thrusts, rocking your body forward as he fucks you from below.

Without hardship, he turns you over on the bed, his hand tracing the walley of your boobs. “Look at you, so beautiful.” Ariel languidly takes a handful of your breasts, tracing a finger on your hardened nipples.

You look up at his sincere eyes, feeling your cheeks heat at his intense gaze. Despite being high himself, there’s so much honesty in his eyes.

“I think you’re just high, Azriel,” you shy away from his hazel eyes, fighting the instinct to hide from him. You had never been looked at the way he looked at you and it was a bit nervrecking.

He chuckles, “High or not, i’m never wrong. Again, you’re a stunner.”

“Didn’t know you were such a sweet talker," you laugh playfully, but he is completely entranced by the way your eyelashes brush against your cheeks with each slow blink. He can’t help but be drawn in, his fingers instinctively tangling in your hair as he leans in to kiss you, utterly captivated by your presence.

Azriel continues to thrust, making your eyes roll. He is determined to make you cum on his cock for the umpteenth time this night. Your sweet noises of pleasure only spur him on, the way your hand find his makes his heart skip a beat aswell.

—

Even though neither of you have met before, it feels right waking up to wake up next to him. You wake up before him, feeling a headache on it’s way so you sneakily throw off the covers to head to the kitchen for some water and some ibuprofen, grabbing whatever item of clothes that is closest to you.

You spot Azriel’s white dress shirt, with the buttons popped off. Your face heats as you remember how hard you had ripped off his shirt.

The shirt is on the floor and you bend down to pick it up, when you do, something thuds to the floor. You turn back around to look down, curiosity piqued.

You cover your mouth with your hand as you see what had dropped to the floor. Hidden under his shirt and pants is a gun. A real-life, very dangerous, very dark, and very scary gun.

Upon closer inspection, you notice it’s one of your family's produced weapons—a very high-quality gun from an exclusive Vanserra collection from last year, relatively new.

Your family exclusively make those guns for the most dangerous, fierce, and powerful people in the world. Only a handful of people even know they exist. If he has one, then he is definitely one of the most important and dangerous men you have encountered.

Feyre did mention he dabbles in the drugs industry but you had expected that he maybe owned a block or two.

Just who on earth did you jump into bed with? And why were you not the least bit concerned about it?

🏷️: @redbleedingrose @readychilledwine @claireswritingcorner @cadiawrites @danikamariewrites @cupidojenphrodite @honeybeefae

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bisexualiteaa · 10 months ago

Note

DESPERATELY needing a sequel to the sex pollen! Fic,,, they keep the chems and cooper takes some either on purpose or by accident and poor vaultie is going to have to consider restraining him 👅 he's too feral (in the BEST sense)

A Flame in Your Heart Pt. 2

Cooper Howard x Fem Reader (SMUT!!)

CW: established relationship, cursing, NSFW MDNI, slight deviation from TV show, slight OOC Cooper, perverted thoughts, oral (fem recieving) drug use, alcohol use, dub-con (from drug use but consent is very clearly given!!) sex-chem usage! p in v, p0rn w/o plot, absolute filth, riding, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, multiple irradiated cream pies, fluffy ending, briefly proof read, possible spelling/grammar errors

AN: and just like our man Hancock needing love, had to make sure ol�� Coop got some love too. 😉 I’m glad this one has done so well! I hope I did your ask justice Anon! Thank you again for your request and I hope you enjoy the absolute FILTH that is this sequel. 👅

After your accidental discovery of the sex chem that led to your crazy sexcapade, Cooper decided to pocket the borderline heat inducing drug for a later use. He’d be a liar if he said the idea of *him* experimentally taking it hadn’t crossed his mind a plethora of times since the incident. Would it have any effect on him? Would it make him as sensitive and desperate as you were? Or would his body take it in stride like everything else? He figured there was really only one way to find out the answer to his curiosities. So one night, when you hadn’t any bounties the next day, were stocked on supplies and just had a chance to stay and hole up at the mini-mart, that’s exactly what he did. He popped it, chasing it with whatever liquor was on hand at the time in his flask hidden in his duster, waiting for it to start to take effect.

In the time that he had taken the pill without your knowing, you were running around cleaning the place up some, and then making dinner. Little did he know, you had snuck one for yourself just a little prior when he wasn’t looking, also thinking that tonight would be the perfect night to go all out like the last time. He smirked to himself as he watched you run around everywhere, watching your hips sway as you walked, paying close attention to your ass that was mostly covered in the shorts you were wearing, save for the bottom part of your ass cheeks that poked out some and the back of your bare thighs each time you’d bend over. It had been a while since the last time you two had a chance to do anything intimate other than a short quickie in fear of raiders catching you in, quite literally, a vulnerable position. It was as his eyes began to linger and follow you that he started feeling the unbearable heat you complained about, coupled with the way that he was now painfully hard in his pants in a way he hadn’t been in a long time. He contemplated walking up behind you and pressing himself against you to make it known, yanking your little ripped up shorts and panties down and taking you right then and there, but he resisted. Damn was he hard as fuck though. It was actually beginning to become a bit of a problem for him, he couldn’t move without it brushing against the fabric of his pants, or seem to find a way to sit comfortably unless he had his legs spread. Then he’d think about how pretty you’d look on your knees, not caring about the dirt on the floor as you’d sit between his legs with his fat cock in your mouth. He grunted softly to himself as he slid his hand into one of his pockets incase you would turn around to look at him and see the tent in his pants.

Little did he know that you were doing some of the teasing things on purpose, bending over in front of him when you didn’t need to, taking off your shirt when you complained about it being too hot. You were about ready to skip dinner to head straight for dessert, but you knew you had to play this out, and you needed to play it smart. Poor Cooper on the other hand wasn’t holding up as well as he thought he would, it was as if it got worse and worse in cruel phases. First is the absurdly high body temperature, higher than normal. Then came the perverted thoughts he couldn’t shake as he stared at you, then the throbbing to his dick, and it only intensified the longer he went without some form of relief.

“I ever tell you ya look damn good in them shorts, sugar?” He asked, practically staring holes into you as you’d bent over in front of him to pick up a few stray things off the floor. “Plenty of times, but I’ll always take some more compliments. They’re a hot commodity when they come from you” you said back a little too flirtatiously as you stood back up far too slowly for it not to be intentional, paired with a mischievous grin to match and his dick damn near jumped in his pants. “You bend over one more god damn time, I ain’t responsible for what happens next, little lady” he threatened, making you give a sound of intrigue at his threat before giggling as a heat coursed through your body from the thought. Being bent over the couch again as your legs were spread and his hand rested in your hair wasn’t a half bad spot to find yourself in. In fact you craved that, hoping the chem would help you release that inner whore he liked so much. “Don’t threaten me with a good time. Is it a “not making it through dinner” kinda night tonight then?” You asked teasingly before he did a “come hither” motion with his finger, urging you closer to him before patting his lap for you to take a seat on. “It’s a “not even making it to dinner” kinda night sweetheart. And I don’t think I’m the only one thinkin’ I’d rather have dessert first for a change” he said, making you grin even wider and god how he just wanted to make those pretty eyes of yours roll into the back of your head. You climbed onto his lap, straddling his legs as you sat down with a grin, your hands roaming his chest and beneath his duster to signal him to remove it as you leaned in close. “Well then take it if you want it so bad, honey” you challenged, making him give an amused hum in response before leaning up and pulling you into a needy, heated kiss. You smiled into it as you rolled your hips against his, earning a deep, guttural groan as his hands soon found purchase on your ass, roughly squeezing it in his large hands. He enjoyed the moans that left you from his rough treatment as he made your hips continue to roll against his as your hands traveled along his chest. “I see what left ya so needy for me, took one of them lil’ Date Nights you were trippin’ on a while back. Been achin’ to fuck you stupid” he said, making you giggle as his lips found the sensitive skin of your neck. “Mmm…well we’re certainly in for a treat. ‘Cause I took one too” you replied, making him chuckle.

It didn’t take long before Cooper found his way between your legs, what you hadn’t been expecting was the fact that he had you sat down on his face. Sure he’s eaten you out before, but for a man who needed to feel in control and dominant in just about every situation in life, it was nice to let that go for a little bit. “Fuck! Oh god, Cooper…” you moaned as his tongue violated you, sinking deep into your entrance, then working its way up to tease your clit. You sighed blissfully as your hips rolled against the wet muscle, making him groan as you used him. His hands gripped your thighs roughly, keeping you against him and allowing you to do what you needed to seek release as he devoured you like you were his last meal. “So good f’ me” he rasped out before going to suck on your clit, leaving you screaming for him as it brought you closer. You were embarrassed by how fast the knot in your stomach was already close to snapping, blaming the chem for the way it’d get you so worked up you’d be cumming quicker than you normally do. Or at least you would be if it didn’t feel so damn good. He moaned into you at the taste of you, watching all the faces you made from beneath you so he had the perfect view of you, listening to all your pretty sounds, it was all too much for him to handle with such a powerful chem in his system. You felt him groan into you as you came on his tongue, feeling his body move to buck his hips into the air as he reached his peak without a single touch. You sighed happily as you worked yourself down from cloud nine, bucking your hips against his tongue gently before finally letting up and letting him move. “Well ain’t that somethin’” he said as you both shifted lower to straddle his lap before seeing cum painting his lower stomach and still leaking from his cock that twitched with need.

You gave an intrigued chuckle at the sight, taking his heavy cock in your hands and working it up and down, using his cum as lube. He hissed at the sensitivity he normally never felt, he usually had a remarkably quick recovery time if he wanted to go multiple rounds, but it was apparent that this chem had all sorts of effects that made him feel human again. “Been a long time since I had that happen” he said, making you grin. “Kinda hot if you ask me” you replied, making him give a raspy laugh in response as he softly tapped your ass to get you to stop using your hand already and ride him. He watched as you sank down onto him, moaning as you felt him stretch your walls out before he cruelly slammed himself the rest of the way inside of you. Your body jolted from the sudden intrusion, white hot electricity climbing up your spine from it before he was moving you at his own brutal pace. “Ain’t got time for subtleties here, darlin’, certainly ain’t got the patience to go slow” he said, and judging by the loud moans and way your eyes were rolling to the back of your head already as his tip bullied the apex to your cervix, he figured that was alright by you. “Cooper! Holy shit…” you managed to say through your moans as your hands rested against his chest, doing all you could to hold on for dear life as he used you like a sex toy. “Fuck sugar, always squeezin’ me so damn tight, even after all the times I fuck you” he commented, enjoying the way your face would twist up in momentary pain each time he’d first slide in like he was too big for you to handle. He always loved that, enjoying the way you’d eagerly prove you could take it all, hungry to have him balls deep so that he could reach all those spots inside of you your fingers couldn’t reach. The sound of skin harshly slapping skin, the squelching of your pussy as he drilled into you from below you and your shared pants and moans filled the air like a symphony of pure, unadulterated sin. You just couldn’t get enough of it, and neither could Cooper.

He groaned as he looked down at the sight of his cock disappearing inside of your tight cunt, watching as a ring formed around the base of him from your excitement. He always wondered how a sweet thing like you managed to fall for such a depraved man like himself, but it was moments like this that reminded him that you weren’t as sweet as you lead on to be. He watched as you sat back on the haunches of your feet, your thighs jiggling, tits bouncing as your eyes clenched shut from bliss. “Huh-uh, eyes on me pretty lady” he said, pulling your attention down to him, your half lidded gaze falling upon him made him about ready to cum again if he wasn’t careful. Your mouth hung partially open as your brows furrowed from pleasure, and judging by the pitch of your moans and how close together they were getting, he could tell you were close. “Come on baby, cum for me. Wanna see that pretty face twist up and scream for me” he said, making you bite your lip as your mind clouded over, not a single thought in your head save for his name falling from your lips. “Cooper! Gonna cum, gonna cum!” You warned, your hands coming to you with your breasts to add some stimulation to send you over the edge. “That’s it, go ‘head. Let go f’ me” he responded, talking you through it as your legs clamped against the outsides of his thighs, your walls squeezing around him as you came with a scream of his name.

He wasn’t much farther behind, a few sloppy, uncoordinated thrusts later and your walls were painted with his seed, a groan leaving him as he throbbed inside of you, feeling you milk him for all he could give you. You looked at each other, gasping for air and sweat lightly collecting along your skin but it wasn’t enough to sate the beast inside you both. So rather than enjoying the after glow, you were being manhandled into a new position. This time you were on the couch, on your hands and knees as he lined himself up to your leaking hole from behind. His fingers collected his spend that was dripping from you and down the insides of your thighs, grinning as he pushed it back inside. “Bet you’d love if I fucked a cute little baby into you, wouldn’t ya?” He asked, and the thought sent a pleasant tingle straight to your core at the idea of being bred. You whimpered as he teased his tip up and down your slit, collecting your combined cum together as lube as he chuckled. “Too bad them days are gone” he said, soon lining himself up to your entrance finally and pushing in with little resistance. You moaned and arched your back as he sheathed himself in one thrust, your hands clenching the arm rest of the couch as support. “Don’t mean we can’t practice incase they ain’t” he said, starting his brutal pace once more, leaving you slack jawed as your head tilted back to moan from how he hit all sorts of spots inside of you that you loved. “Yes! Want that so bad” you moaned, making him chuckle. “I bet you do” he replied with a smirk, his hands gripping your hips once more as he fucked you, watching your ass and thighs jiggle from the force of his hips meeting yours. “Wanna be bred, have my babies?” He asked, making you whimper as your walls tightened around him at the thought. “Want that so bad, please!! Knock me up” you moaned, truly lost in a whole different world from the pleasure. He gave a dry chuckle, enjoying the way you were so honest and so carefree when it came to sex, it was like you were a whole different person when he was inside of you. “Bet you do, such a good little whore for me ain’tchya?” He asked, making you moan once more at the use of praise and degradation together for something so blissfully sinful. “Yes! All yours, Cooper” you replied through your pants and gasps as he angled his thrusts to press against that sweet bundle of nerves deep inside of you that drove you crazy.

He watched as you began to melt, lowering your upper body down and leaving your ass up to create the perfect arch for him to keep hitting it. “Yeah, ya like that spot, sweetheart?” He asked, as if the answer wasn’t obvious but he was a little lost himself in it all, never the type to ramble so much during sex but you both realized that chem could do some pretty interesting things. “Yes!! Don’t stop, don’t stop! I’m so fucking close!” You pleaded, and who was he to deny you when you looked this good for him? He gave a devious grin as his hand reached down into your hair, pushing your face into the couch cushions. Not enough to suffocate you, but enough to establish just who was in charge this time. Despite your face being held into the couch, your moans were still loud as ever, not that he’d ever complain. “Cooper!!” You cried as you came powerfully around his dick, your walls squeezing him tight as your release gushed and covered his cock, sending him tumbling over the edge himself as he spilled inside of you once more. “Fuck…I love it when you do that” he said, tapping your outer thigh as a signal to move positions, lazily flipping yourself on your back as he kicked your legs apart once more, already ready to go at it again. “Can gimme one more, yeah sugar?” He asked you, and he knew like this, you’d give him anything he ever asked for. So it was no surprise that your legs locked around his hips as he slipped inside of you for the third time that evening.

As an hour or two soon came to pass, you weren’t exactly sure how long it’d been, time was completely lost on you at this point, you both were just happy to have found yourselves finally sated from the powerful effects of the chem. You both panted, looking at each other with grins at the fact that the most memorable night of your relationship had just occurred once again. “That will never NOT be fun” you replied, making him laugh dryly as he took a swig from his flask before offering it to you once he was finished. You happily accepted as you took a few sips from it, unsure whether it eased or burned your tired throat even more but you didn’t care, it was something at least. “Been thinkin’ whether it’d actually work for me like it did for you, guess we got that answer” he said as he got up to find something to clean yourselves up with, making you laugh in response. “Well, was certainly my kinda date night” you said, watching him walk back over with a wet rag in hand to clean you up then himself before slipping his briefs back on and his shirt. “Too bad dinner’s cold now” you said, making him shrug nonchalantly, earning an eye roll from you as you slipped your underwear and a shirt back on, then dished out two bowls of your famous stew he loved so much. “If it’s made by you, ain’t nothin’ out there that could possibly ruin it” he said, kissing your head sweetly as you handed him his bowl, both of you sitting back on the couch together.

You leaned your head against his shoulder with a soft, happy smile while you watched some of the tapes left behind to play in the TV, having something akin to the wasteland version of movie night. His arm draped around you to pull you into his side, keeping you close to him as he smiled softly down at you. He couldn’t believe that he managed to snag one hell of a woman out here in the wastes, but one thing was for sure, he certainly wasn’t letting you go now or ever.

#cooper howard #fallout #cooper howard x reader #fallout x reader #cooper howard smut #the ghoul #asks #fallout smut #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul smut

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godmadeaterribleerror · 4 months ago

Text

Chapter 23 - Wherever You're Going

Series Masterlist

Author's Note: We made it, squad. It only took 400k words, but here we are. THE PORN CHAPTER. Also, if you're going to tell me that the gif is technically just Jensen Ackles, consider this. I don't care. It's in the spirits of the chapter (horny as fuck). Chapter Title from Moon River by Frank Sinatra.

Word Count: 22k

Chapter Summary/Warnings: You and Ben have a lot of stuff to do. Smut. All of it. It's here, it's huge, it's horny and emotional. Usual warnings, plus so much fucking smut.

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, canon divergence, enemies to friends to lovers, canon divergence, heavy smut, fluff, love confessions

Read on A03!

Chapter 22 - Chapter 24

You can feel Ben before you’re fully awake. Your face is still pressed to his chest, one hand fisted in his shirt as the other rests near his neck, and his legs are tangled with yours, but you feel him first. Sitting inside your chest, alive and powerful and burning in a steady beat with your heart. Made entirely of love. For you.

Ben loves you.

Everything is warm and safe. When you take a long breath you can smell pine, and when you shift in Ben’s arms—wrapped around your body, holding you carefully like you might vanish—he presses a kiss to the top of your head. He’s here. Ben knows you love him, and you didn’t lose him. He loves you. He loves you and you can feel it everywhere. Even half asleep, you can still feel Ben’s love in your body, focused and devoted and growing brighter when you push your head deeper against his chest.

“I know you’re awake,” Ben’s words are low, deep—rolling from him into your bones and blood—and muttered against your ear. “I can hear your heartbeat.”

“My heart is always beating.” You grumble, words muffled in his shirt. “That’s not proof I’m awake.”

“Maybe,” he shrugs, muscles flexing around you, and you make an undignified, mumbling sound, trying to tug him closer by his shirt. “Got you to fucking talk though. That’s some damn proof you’re awake.”

Your eyes are still closed, but you can see his smug grin as your arms wrap around his neck and your grumble against his skin. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.” Ben hums, something inside him starting to glow. “You fucking love me.”

“I do. I really do.” You sigh. “What the fuck is wrong with me?”

Ben snorts, and when your arms tighten around him, a hand moving up into his hair, his love starts to spread through you. Furious and consuming, waking you up and draining any exhaustion from your body or mind. This is what matters, Ben is what matters, and there’s no need to be tired when he’s here. When he loves you. You blink up at him, and he’s already watching you. He’s so handsome, face cast in the golden light of the sunset, leaking through the windows, and when you smile at him all his love bursts along your ribs.

“Hi.”

A hand drops to your ass, squeezing and pushing you further up his body, and he chuckles when you let out a downright pathetic whine. “Hi, Sunshine.”

It’s not really important who moves first, because you’ll end up right here every time. With Ben’s mouth on yours, his body rolling on top of yours as he kisses you into the mattress, and your hands tugging at his hair when he bites your lip. He tastes like Ben. There’s the coffee and salt, but it’s mostly just him. Strong hands kneading gently at your skin, dropping his tongue and teeth to your neck and leaving sloppy, wet kisses across your collarbone before returning to your face, groaning down your throat when you drop a hand between your bodies and palm his cock, straining through his jeans.

Fucking damnit, Ben’s voice is in your head, rough and low as he lets out another groan. Trying to fucking kill me.

You smile, and squeeze your hand around him. You shouldn’t have worn jeans to bed, Pretty Boy. That’s on you.

Ben freezes, and pushes up on his arms to glare at you. “We’re going to need to figure out how this mind reading shit works. I am not letting you hear every single fucking thought I have.”

Lining all the love and affection in his body is that hot, prickly and sore feeling of embarrassment, and you tilt your head at him. “What are you thinking that I shouldn’t hear, Benjamin?”

“It’s about fucking privacy-“

You wrinkle your nose at him. “No, it’s not. Try again.”

“What makes you so damn sure,“ he grumbles. “It could be.”

“Nope. When you’re dodging a question, you get deeper lines right here.” You reach a hand up to his face, tracing the outer corners of his eyes. “Because you’re trying not to glare more. Tell me what you don’t want me to hear.”

Ben rolls his eyes, catching your hand in his and kissing your knuckles. “It’s not fucking important, we have better things to do-“

“We’re not fucking until you answer my question.”

It’s a lie. Right now, when you can feel his hunger and love all around you—making you more and more alive the longer you’re touching and talking to Ben—it would be very easy for him to ignore your question, shove a hand down your pants, and make you forget completely about this whole conversation. And Ben knows it’s a lie, because he grinds down once, his dick pressing into your thigh and making you swallow a moan, and grins at you.

But he doesn’t keep going. He moves your hand—still tangled in his—to rest beside your head and drops to brush his lips with yours, muttering into your open mouth.

“See, beautiful, half the damn thoughts I have are about you. Touching you and kissing you and fucking you until you make a perfect, pretty mess on my cock. I think about all the ways I want you, about how fucking smart and funny you are, about how I love you so much that it’s made me a fucking pussy. That I don’t care, because I’m going to make you feel so fucking good, and you’re going to forget every word except my name when you cum around me. I think about how it’s a goddamn miracle I get fucking anything done when you’re sitting next to me, smiling all fucking perfect, because all I want to do is bend you over or pin you down and show you how much I love you.” Ben pulls back to watch you with a cocky smirk, squeezing your hand in his and running a thumb over your lower lip. “And one of us has to keep being productive, so if you can always hear how I’m trying not to fuck you during one of Mallory’s stupid meetings, not a goddamn thing will ever get done.”

The fact that he’s just talking to you—looking at you with dark eyes that keep dropping to your lips—and your brain has already gone a little numb doesn’t bode well for him actually, finally, fucking you. All you can do is let out a breathless moan and nod frantically, not really sure what exactly you’re agreeing to, and feel his want and adoration flash through you.

“Words-“

We’ll figure it out. You think as hard as you can, staring at him and hoping he hears. Better things to do.

He pauses, and nods. “You’re okay.”

That brings your words and speech back. Ben needs to understand that you’re okay. You’re warm and happy and safe, and Ben’s everything and yours, so you’ve never been better. “I’m okay. Promise.”

Something in Ben that had been tight around his lungs goes loose, and you know he believes you. “Good.”

“Also,” you frown up at him. “I don’t think it’s mind reading. I think it’s more about my empathy, or something, because it’s not always happening, and I can feel you sort of spike in here,” you poke your free hand at your own chest. “When we’re thinking about each other. So my guess-“ You cut yourself off with a sigh, because he’s not paying attention anymore. Ben’s hunger is roaring around inside him, and his gaze is entirely fixed on where you’d pointed. On your tits. “Benjamin.”

He looks back up at you with a scowl. “What.”

“Stop looking at my boobs, I’m talking to you.”

“I can listen to you talk and look at your boobs, it’s called fucking multitasking-“

“What did I say?”

Ben pauses, and grunts, “mind reading.”

“What about mind reading.”

“Shut up.”

You stick your tongue out at him. “I was saying that it’s not mind reading. It’s probably more about my empathy, and how I love you enough-“

Something flares inside you, inside Ben, and your words die in your throat as Ben drops his mouth back to yours in a brutal, demanding kiss that bruises your lips and makes your hands scrape at his back, makes your every thought turn to Ben. Ben, I love you.

I fucking love you too.

You moan into his mouth, loud and long, and Ben grins, his knee pushes up between your thighs.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he mutters your name, and you start to grind into him. “You can’t keep goddamn saying you love me, beautiful, you’re going to make me go insane.”

Fuck, Ben, please-

He pulls back, and you let out a high, desperate sound as he watches you. His dick, fully hard, is pressing right against your abdomen, and he’s so hungry, and handsome, and you love him-

“You want me,” he growls, and it’s all you can do not to just burn all your clothes off and beg him to fuck you.

“Ben-“

He lowers back down to your neck, leaves a wet, heavy kiss on that one spot, and wraps his arm around your waist. “Say it.”

“I want you,” your words are breathless, and he grunts against your skin. “Please, Ben, I want you, now-“

“Beg.”

“I did fucking beg, you asshole-“

He’s back on your mouth, sucking on your lips and running his tongue along your teeth, and you can feel him. Pounding against your chest, full of devotion and desire and love, he loves you, and if he doesn’t fuck you now you’re going to kill him-

Ben sits up, fully sits up, and pulls you with him until your head falls on his chest, his arms almost pinning you against him to stop you grinding down onto his legs.

“We’re getting you some food.” Ben’s words are a low rumble in his chest, and you look up at him with wide-eyes.

“But-“

“You need the energy.” He grunts your name, eyes never leaving yours as his hand traces over the hem of your shorts. “I’m going to fuck you stupid, Sunshine, and you’re going to need to keep up.”

You swallow, trying not to drown in your own drool from how he’s watching you with a heavy lust that you can almost taste. How his hands are tracing light, gentle patterns on your skin, and how you can feel the weight of his love in every touch. He looks like an angel again. Your own love for him must be some sort of brain altering drug, because this same man has been covered in blood and guts and grime and the ashes empires he burned. His hands—holding you against him with such a tender care—have snapped necks and punched people through walls, but, still, in the golden light and shadows of dusk, and haze of how much you love him, he just really looks like an angel. Wholly and entirely the avenging, furious protector you know him to be now, and never again the blindly violent and crude man he’d become as Soldier Boy.

His eyes are so green. You’ve called him vain for how it’s his favorite color, told him what would you have done if your eyes were blue, Pretty Boy? Would green be the pussy color? But you’re no better. You love him, and suddenly the whole world is contained in Ben’s eyes. How they’re dark and pretty and his lashes are so long and you love him. His mouth is moving, but you don’t hear anything except how deep his voice is, because your eyes drop to his lips and now that’s the whole world. You want to kiss him. Kiss Ben’s whole stupid face that makes you wet just from seeing it, and make sure he really understands how much you love him. He really shouldn’t be allowed to be that handsome, it’s making you forget everything that isn’t Ben. Ben, I love you.

A big, warm hand grabs your chin, and when you blink up at Ben—cognitive function slowly returning—he’s smirking. “Who’s not fucking paying attention now?”

You scowl at him. “Cunt.”

“Brat.” Ben kisses the top of your head, moving his hand to cup the back of your head. “Hold on.”

“What-“

“Food, Sunshine.” He grins against your hair. “Then we fuck.”

You scoff, and wrap your arms back around his neck, fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. “Romantic.”

Ben hauls you up his body, holding you with steady arms, and winks at you. “Only the best for my woman.”

“Shut up,” you mumble, burying your face in his shoulder to hide the flush of your face, and you feel the glow in him become brighter, fueled by amusement and affection and love. Focused, blinding love that makes your heart beat a little faster. It’s everything, Ben is everything, and you need to tell him that. You’ve said that you love him, he knows and he’s here and he loves you, but he might not get it. How infinite and sacred and unstoppable your love from him was. How it exists everywhere in you, everywhere in the world, how it’s as much a part of you as your lungs and heart, how it sits in your head and will remain there forever. How it feels like it’s always been there, like loving Ben was something you were supposed to do.

“You are my woman.” Ben’s words are slow, and you feel a flash of something stuttering in his chest. “I’ll never fucking lock you up, or keep you from doing anything because I love you, and I couldn’t if I damn tried, but you’re my woman.” He pauses, and you feel the bob of his throat against your arm. “If you, uh, if that’s what you fucking want.”

You smile, leaning back to look at him. His eyes are locked ahead, focused on the wall as he carries downstairs. “Ben.”

He grunts, still staring ahead.

“Benjamin.”

This time he glances down at you, stopping at the foot of the stairs, and when he mutters your name your whole body is washed in warmth. It always sounds right when Ben says your name, the way his tone and voice and cadence make you feel important, valuable, loved.

“I’ve been your woman for a while,” you whisper, still smiling softly. “Because I really, really, love you, and I’ve really, really loved you for a while.”

He nods slowly. “Good.”

“Besides,” your smile turns into a grin, broad and teasing. “Your dick is mine, so it’s only fair.”

Ben’s face splits into a grin of his own—full of teeth and joy that you can feel under your skin—and he starts to move to the dining room table. “My dick is yours, beautiful.” His hunger rushes through you, alight with fervor and so hot it makes your toes curl and your heart stumble. “And I’m going to fuck you with it until you scream.”

“You keep saying that,” you grumble as he sets you down at the table. “But I haven’t gotten fucked yet.”

“Someone’s real impatient,” he mutters—sharp affection spreading across your stomach and through your blood—and gives you one, quick kiss on your cheek before drawing back up. “All you have to do is sit there and look pretty while I get you the damn food, and then you’ll get fucked senseless. Deal?”

You nod, and start to stand. “Deal.”

Ben scowls, not budging from in front of you as you rise, leaving you stuck between his body and the edge of the table. “Did you not fucking hear the sit there part-“

“I have to pee, Ben.”

He pauses, looking you up and down, and steps to the side with a grunt. “Fine.”

“Why thank you, your majesty, I’m so glad you’ve deemed me worthy of taking piss-“

Ben rolls his eyes as you try to push past him, catching you by the elbow and spinning you back into his arms, kissing you fast and heavy and wet, until your knees are weak and your head is spinning. Going and going and going until you whine and start to try and climb up his body, pulling back with a smug grin and drawl. “Not in a huge damn rush to leave now, are you.”

You glare at him, shoving back on his chest as he laughs. “You’re such a fucking dick, Benjamin-“

He kisses you one last time, gentle and so painfully sweet for how much of an absolute fucking asshole he is, for how much you want him to pick you up, slam you onto the table, and fuck you. But—because he’s an asshole—Ben steps back, leaving you staring at him with an open mouth and an ache between your legs.

“Go take your fucking piss, Sunshine.” He turns, walking into the kitchen, and calls over his shoulder, “but be fucking quick about it.”

You flip off his back, and climb up the stairs in quick steps before half-running down the hallway to the bathroom.

Even with a floor and two separate doors between you and Ben, you can still feel him. Feel Ben’s imprint in your chest, humming and rolling around in content, alight with love. Ben loves you. He’s said it, he keeps saying it, and you keep believing him. All your blood is still in your body, and Ben loves you. It’s making you a little dizzy, and it still doesn’t fully feel real. You keep repeating it to yourself, trying to convince some part of you that’s still vigilant and guarded and afraid, that it’s real. It might be a little too good to be real, a little too perfect to not be a dream, but you can feel Ben and everything in the world is sharp and clear, so this is real. Ben loves you, and it’s real.

When you return to the kitchen, you find him holding a wooden spoon like it’s a weapon, beating ingredients around in a bowl with an almost violent glare.

You stop at his side, looking between Ben’s drawn, concentrated scowl and his egg and flour victim, and grin. “I think you’re winning.”

“Shut the fuck up,” he grumbles, and you giggle, leaning your head against his arm. He slows his movements, and glances at you. “Go sit down.”

“What are you making?” You ignore his order, frowning at the batter. “Can I guess?”

“No. Go fucking sit-“

“Is it pancakes? Are you making me pancakes?”

Ben drops the spoon, turning to fully face you with a glower. “It was supposed to be a fucking surprise-”

You stand on your toes, grabbing Ben’s face between your hands and kissing his cheek, smiling against his beard as you linger. “Grumpy-“

He turns his head, moving you into a full, long kiss and walking you backwards until you’re bumping against the counter. “Fucking brat,” He mutters, something sparking in his chest as his hands drop to your thighs, a wildfire spreading through your body as he picks you up and sets you down on the counter. He glides his hands up your legs, finding a firm hold on your hips, and pulls back with a half-smirk. “You’re lucky I want to fuck you all goddamn night and need you to eat, or I’d fuck you right here, on the goddamn floor.”

“I don’t think that’s luck,” you mumble, leaning forwards until your brow is against Ben’s chest. “I think it’s mean. Some might call it blackmail.”

“How the hell is it-“

“If I don’t listen to you and eat,” you look up at him with a fake pout. “You won’t fuck me.”

He snorts. “You never fucking listen to me. And,” he squeezes your hips, kissing the space between your eyes and growling onto your skin. “Not a single goddamn thing in the world is going to stop me from fucking you. If Butcher or Mallory walk through the door to try and get us to another stupid dogshit meeting, they can shove it up their asses and wait until morning.”

“Hm.” You wrinkle your nose, even as your hands fist in his shirt. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“I’ve fucking told you, we’re getting some food in you first-“

“I know,” you lean back, grinning at him. “You’re taking very good care of me, Benjamin. That doesn’t mean I don’t want you to just fuck me.”

Ben rolls his eyes—but you can feel the glow inside of him start to burn—and pushes off the counter before pointing at you with a glare. “Stay.”

You frown. “I am not a dog-“

“You want me to fuck you?” He growls your name, the hunger rioting between your heart and lungs, and you swallow.

“Yes please.”

“Then stay there while I make you fucking pancakes because I love you and I’m a goddamn gentleman, and I’ll fuck you however you want.”

You nod, pressing your thighs together and hoping Ben doesn’t notice the movement. “Okay.”

Ben looks you up and down, gives a sharp nod, and turns back to his bowl. It’s silent for a second as he continues to cook and you try to regain control over your breath.

“Should,” you clear your throat, watching his back carefully. “Should we, uh, talk about it?”

“Talk about what.”

“The whole, um, love thing.”

He pauses, just the smallest stutter in your chest and falter of his movements as he pours the batter into the pan, and grunts, “the hell is there to talk about. I love you, you love me. It’s fucking simple.”

You flush, and your fingers start to tap against your leg. “I mean, I guess. But there’s the whole, um, suppressant thing-“

Ben says your name, turning to glare at you, and you almost bite through the skin of your mouth. “I don’t need you to fucking explain your horrible fuckin choice to me-“

“Hey-“

“Because,” Ben’s eyes narrow on yours, and your protests falter. “I trust you. And I fucking know you,” he grunts your name, and you swallow. “You were probably doing it for some dumb, goddamn sacrificial reason that I’d call stupid-“

“I love you!” You blurt out, and Ben frowns.

“I fucking know that.”

“No,” you shake your head, gaze dropping to where Ben’s grip on his spoon has started to split the wood. “I love you. And I, I didn’t think you loved me, and sometimes when I get, um, excited-“

“Excited-“

“Horny,” you mumble. “When I get horny, or emotional, or I think just any emotion that’s really, really overwhelming, the empathy gets away from me.”

“Gets away from you how.” Ben’s words are so calm and steady, even as you can feel him clawing at your chest from across the room. “And the fuck does it have to do with you loving me.”

“Ben,” you sigh, staring at his hands. “When I get horny, it escapes my body. Just like when I got home, but, um, because of sex or love. I was, I,” you take a long, slow breath, fingers moving faster against your skin. “I was worried I’d make you love me. I didn’t want to make you love me.”

He grunts your name, and you give a small nod. “Look at me.” Ben falls silent until you pull your eyes up to his face, and when you do his jaw is clenched and his eyes on yours are alight. “You trust me.”

“Of course I do-“

“Then trust when I say that I fucking love you. I love you now, I loved you when you were gone, and I probably loved you for a long fucking time before that. You are not damn making me love you.”

“I know,” you whisper. “I love you too. A lot.”

Ben’s love starts to roar in his chest, and he glances back at the pancakes. “Syrup?”

“And strawberries, please.”

He nods, marching over to the fridge, and you follow his every movement. Rough and calculated steps, big, strong hands grabbing out the toppings before glancing at you and holding them up for approval. When you nod he sets them at your side, grabs out a plate, and turns back to the oven, dumping both of the finished pancakes out of the pan and presenting the plate to you with an adorable glare and powerful, resolved care running through his body.

“Eat.”

You frown at the food. “What about you?”

“What about me.”

“You need to eat as well, Ben.” You cross your arms, refusing to take the plate. “We’re sharing, or you’re making more.”

He scowls, and you know he won’t make more. You can feel Ben’s hunger and desire and need in your body, running up your spine and sitting in your lower stomach. It’s just as strong as your own thirst, just as desperate, and so he won’t take the time to make more. Instead he grabs another plate, moves the larger pancake onto it, and narrows his eyes at you as he holds it out. “Take the fucking plate.”

You smile and let him pass it into your hands. Ben stands between your legs—he’d loaded his up with twice as much strawberries and half the bottle of syrup, but is still somehow managing to match your pace perfectly—and you’re watching each other as you eat. His eyes on yours are intent, stripping you apart and full of reverence, and you pause right before you’re done—mid bite—to frown at him.

Ben swallows so fast it looks painful. “What the fuck is wrong-“

“I love you,” your voice is quiet, tense, but you’re worried he still doesn’t get it. That Ben loves you but still doesn’t quite understand how much you love him. He needs to know how much you love him. “I love you, Ben. So, so much. I love you so much it makes me insane and stupid and reckless, but I don’t care because it makes me feel alive.” You put your plate down, freeing your hands to hold Ben’s face between them, forcing his eyes to stay on yours. “You make me feel alive, Ben. You make me so fucking happy and alive, you make me feel safe and you make me laugh and you’re such a fucking asshole, and I love you. Tell me you understand that I love you, please.”

“I understand,” his voice is low and gruff, and you smile at him. He lets out a slow, long breath, and shakes his head. “Fuck it.”

You hear his plate drop onto the counter, and before you know what’s happening Ben has one hand on your waist and the other tangled in your hair. He pauses, eyes dark and burning into you, and his thumb moves to trace over your lower lip.

“Tell me what you want.” He mutters, and it’s so easy to answer.

“You-“

It’s all he needs. The words barely leave your mouth before Ben crashes forwards, kissing you like it will kill him if he doesn’t. It might. You can feel his hunger, feel how vast and consuming it is, how even as he sucks on your lips and pulls your tongue between his teeth, Ben’s still starved. His hand is dropping lower and lower, across your stomach and trailing onto your thighs, drawing patterns with rough, careful fingers that leave a trail of goosebumps in their wake, and when you legs move up to wrap around his waist—tugging him closer until the only thing between your bodies are the fabric of your clothes—he growls. It rumbles in his chest, pushing out of his throat and vibrating through your bones, and makes your hands curl against his face, trying to bring him further into you. Telling him to take more, take everything.

He groans your name when you drop to his jaw—biting and sucking along its sharp line and his soft beard—and pulls your head back with a gentle yank of your hair. “I’m first,” he mutters, eyes flicking between your dazed expression and swollen lips. “I touch you first.”

“Okay,” you whisper, and Ben falls down to your neck, his hand starting to move far too fucking slowly up your leg. “Ben-“

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he mutters, nipping at the soft skin your throat. “I’ve never seen anyone,” he pauses, chuckling to himself and rubbing small circles on your inner thigh. “Never seen anything, as beautiful as you are. And I’ve seen a lot of fucking shit.”

“You’re,” your words fall into a long, breathless sound of need when Ben’s hand lands right over your center, warm and just resting there as his mouth attacks your collarbone. “You’re so, fuck, Ben, you’re handsome as well, you cunt-“

He grins, rising back up to meet your eyes. “You’re so fucking mean to me, Sunshine. Calling me a cunt when I’m telling you how beautiful you are-“

“You,” a strangled moan escapes your body as Ben’s hand starts to move, rubbing up and down over your shorts. “Ben, please-“

“You should be real fucking thankful I love you,” he drawls, hand tracing up your abdomen, over your stomach and up to your breasts. Squeezing one before pinching at your nipple, smirking as your back arches and you whine. “I love you so much it drives me fucking mad. You’re so beautiful it’s fucking blinding, and the sounds you make,” he leans to mutter in your ear, rolling your nipple between his fingers. “Fucking music. Would fucking live off of them, if I could. I’m going to touch you,” he growls your name, hand falling back to grab at the fabric of your shorts. “And you need to let me fucking hear how good I’m making you feel.”

You nod, hands scraping at his neck, trying not to drown in how much you love him, how much he loves you, how he’s everywhere around you and big and warm and strong and Ben.

“Words-“

“Touch me,” you hiss, and let a little bit of the blood trying to run from your body into his out. Let Ben feel your own unending love and need for him, savoring the way his hand fist in your hair and his cock starts to poke at your thigh. “Fucking touch me, Benjamin, now-”

He rips off your shorts, taking your underwear with then, and runs a finger between the lips of your pussy, holding your gaze as your mouth falls open and your head clears to Ben. Handsome and warm and safe and touching you-

“So fucking wet,” he grins, flicking at your clit and chuckling when you whimper. “Always fucking soaked for me. You love me that much, beautiful? Love me so damn much I can just do this,” he flicks you again, and presses his thumb against you until your hips start to grind into him. “And you’ll be ready for me? Take my cock nice and easy, let me fuck you right here?”

Ben-

“Aloud,” he grunts, starting to rub slow, torturous circles on your clit. “We’ll have all the fucking time in the world to have fun with the fucking mind shit later. Right now I want to hear you.”

“Ben,” you take a ragged breath, and he hums, his middle finger dropping to trace right over your aching pussy, around and over but never in. “Please-“

“Real pretty begging,” Ben’s eyes still haven’t left yours, and his cock twitches against you. “But I think I want to hear you say it again.”

The heat in his eyes is making your body melt into him, and his own love is raw and bloody, pushing up your throat and making you lightheaded. You know what he wants to hear, and it’s so easy to say it.

“I love you,” your voice is firm, louder than you’d thought it would be. But this is the most natural thing to say, and it’s the only thing that every part of your body and mind are telling you. “I love you, Ben. I love you.”

He grins, and one broad finger pushes into you, painfully slow and pausing when you clench around him. “I love you too,” Ben drops his head, eyes locked on yours, breath fanning across your mouth and lips brushing yours when he speaks. “You’re my whole fucking world,” he grunts your name, and draws his finger out before plunging another one back in with it. “And we’re going to go upstairs so I can fuck you on our bed.”

You nod, staring at him in an unfocused daze of Ben, and you’re not sure if you’re agreeing to him loving you or being his whole world or going upstairs, but they all feel equally important. Ben grins, and kisses you again, long and deep with his tongue down your throat, pumping his fingers at a brutal, unrelenting pace that makes you start to squirm, trying to give him a better angle, trying to get him to swallow your every whine and moan, make him stay against that one spot inside of you that he keeps brushing against but never just presses-

He stops. Ben’s fingers pull all the way out and he draws back, looking down to where he’s still rubbing over you, and his jaw clenches when he sees your hips jerk, your pussy squeeze on nothing as you let out a high, pained whine.

“You,” you gasp as he pushes back in once, twisting his fingers before fully removing them once more. “Asshole-“

“Impatient,” Ben smirks at you, raising his hand between your bodies, leaning back down to your ear to hiss, “and so fucking needy, beautiful. I could live off all your pretty sounds, how you beg for me and say my name, or I could just do this.”

He pulls back, using his hand on the back of your head to hold your eyes on his, and licks his fingers clean. His fingers that had been in you, that are covered in you, that made you feel like you were going to burst into flames-

Ben looks like he’s going to say something. When his fingers leave his mouth, he’s probably about to tell you so fucking good or I fucking love you or want you on my face, and if he gets a single word out you’ll cum on the counter. A single low grunt had left his chest when he’d tasted you on his hand and it had made you buck up on his chest, so there’s no way you’ll survive him actually saying something. His mouth opens, his fingers starting to move back down, and you won’t fucking stand for it. You catch his hand, squeeze it once, and use it to tug his mouth back down to yours.

It’s a shockingly gentle kiss, but when you taste yourself—mixed in with strawberry and salt and coffee and Ben—on his tongue, you bite his lip and he groans. It echoes around in your head and runs through your blood, and you fall forwards, breaking your mouths apart as you gain balance on your feet.

“What are you-“

You’re pressed between Ben’s body and the counter, and you can feel his dick, rock hard and straining through his pants, so you need a second before you can move. Your hand moves from his neck to cover his mouth, your brow buried in his chest, and you take a careful, long breath before you speak.

“Bed,” you mumble, squeezing his hand again. “Bed, please. Now.”

He grunts, and when you look back up he’s watching you with a set jaw and pure, bright affection in his eyes. An adoration that blooms your gut and spreads through your body, making your knees shake just from the strength of Ben’s care. His love, for you.

He’s definitely going to say something. He’s not allowed to say something right now—not while the sound of his deep voice alone will still make you fall over—so you push on his chest, just enough for him to take a step back, and start to drag him out of the kitchen and up the stairs. You’re barely up two steps when Ben tugs your hand in his, spinning you back around to face him and kissing you breathless. You’re falling over him, grabbing at his shoulders for balance as his arm wraps around you and he starts to walk you backwards, up the stairs. His mouth isn’t ever leaving yours, the kiss growing deeper and your nails digging into his skin for a better grip, and you’re only halfway up when his hand starts to trace up from your knee, to your thigh, to cup right over your pussy.

“You’re fucking dripping on the stairs,” he mutters your name in your mouth, and you whine, trying to grind onto his hand and pull him faster up the steps. “I can fix it, make you cum right here on my hand, but you have to fucking say it.”

“Ben-“ He starts to rub back and forth in rhythm with the roll of your hips, and your arms wrap around his neck in an attempt to keep your footing. “Fuck, Ben-“

“I know,” he’s grinning, the cunt, and one finger starts to tease along your slit. “Say the word and I’ll-“

“Please,” you break the kiss, dropping your head onto his shoulder. “Ben, please, you fucking-“

He moves you another step up, and the finger pushes in, pumping slowly as he rubs circles on your back. “So fucking good, Sunshine, so fucking tight and,” you start to suck and bite at his neck, and he groans. “God, you’re so fucking perfect.“ A second finger pushes in with another step, and you start to straddle the air in a desperate attempt to get him deeper.

“I,” you gasp, shaking your head as you lean further forward. “I, fuck, Ben, I need to-“

Both fingers press against that hidden, aching part of you, and your legs give out. Ben catches you before you even stumble—his smug, lust-driven pride roaring in your chest—and he lowers you gently to rest on the steps, fingers scissoring and twisting inside you, so rough and good and he’s kissing along your jaw, groaning as you whimper in his ear, going deeper-

He pulls back, eyes fixed on where his fingers are pushed inside you—moving in and out, faster and faster until your eyes start to blur—and that focused glint in his eyes makes your hand drop to his jaw to turn him up to you. Make Ben look at you, make all that intensity and unending care run through you as he pulls you apart on his hand.

When your eyes meet—affection rolling around in your body, Ben’s body—he grins. “You want to cum, beautiful?”

“Yes-“

His fingers pause, drawing almost all the way out, and your mouth falls open in a silent scream when he adds a third.

“Ben, I’m-“

“Hold it,” he grunts, and his hand reaches up to grab yours on his face, watching you carefully. “Don’t stop looking at me.”

You nod, and Ben starts to move. He’s unforgiving, fingers moving in and out of you so fast you can’t keep up, can’t grind against him or speak or think anywhere outside of Ben. Watching you and moving inside you, and he keeps crooking his fingers for just a second before pulling out and leaving you squeezing around nothing, and you’re so close, you’re fucking drooling and making pathetic, desperate sounds, but fuck this is so good, he’s looking at you like you’re holy and his hands are so big and firm and his muscles keep flexing and you feel so good-

“I’m,” you fall backward when Ben’s hand drops to your abdomen, pressing you further into the floor, stilling the jerks and squirming of your hips. “Ben, I’m close, please-“

He hums, and twists inside you. “Look at me.”

It takes effort. It takes all the will and strength in your body to crane your neck, using your hold on his jaw to anchor yourself and meet his eyes, but fuck it’s worth it. Ben’s eyes become borderline feral, his free hand dropping to press against your clit and rub in furious, large circles, and when he hooks his fingers inside you everything explodes. You can hear the wet sounds of Ben’s movements against you and your own moans, but it’s all distant, barely breaching the haze of your orgasm. You’re bucking into his hand, grabbing at his wrist and closing your legs as your whole body shakes, and he won’t stop looking at you. He’s starving, his face is still wild with desire as he pulls you up and grabs your arms, wrapping them around his neck.

“You have no fucking idea how beautiful you are,” he growls into your ear, and you gasp as he starts to stand, keeping you steady in his arms. “Just fucking watching you cum almost made me lose it. Feeling you squeeze my fucking fingers, seeing how pretty you look when I touch you, fuck, if you look half that good cumming on my cock, it might damn kill me.” You hear the door open, and peak over Ben’s shoulder to see him kick it closed behind you.

He sets you down on the bed, hands moving up to cup your face and hold you upright as he pulls you into a long, sloppy kiss that makes you start to melt into his touch. When Ben stands back up—thumb running over where he’d bitten on your lower lip—his voice is gravely, and you can see the outline of him pushing against his pants.

“Stay here,” he mutters, eyes scanning over your body in the dark. “Need to see you.”

You want to touch him. You want him to feel that same blissful high he’s made you feel, want to feel the weight of his cock on your tongue and to taste him cum down your throat. You want to ensure he really gets it. Gets that he’s everything, and that you love him, and that fuck you want him. You need him. You might need Ben more than you need oxygen, need to hear him groan when you take him in your mouth, hear him say your name when you suck his dick and feel his hand in your hair, feel all his love and desire for you burn you alive from the inside.

He’s moved away from you—stalked away from the bed to flip on a light—and you can see the ripple of his muscles on his back. You slide off the bed, taking a half-step before falling to your knees and waiting for him. Watching him move in the dark and not bothering to pretend he’s not the most important thing in the world. That—if he’d let you—you’d stay on your knees for Ben for the rest of your fucking life.

The switch flips, illuminating the room in a low, warm light, and Ben turns. His eyes fall right to yours, and you swallow. Hungry is becoming too light a word for how Ben’s watching you, because it’s deeper, bigger, and far more important. He’s looking at you like you’re a star that’s fallen right into his hands, and now he gets to hold you and keep the light in you burning. Like you’ve climbed out the hollows of the earth just to see him, and he’d be a fool to deny you what you’re asking. His imprint in your chest is rioting—bellowing and scraping at your ribs like it’s trying to climb out of you, out of Ben—and he’s looking at you like he loves you.

“Hi,” you whisper, and Ben nostrils flare.

He grunts your name, and you have to press your thighs together to stop yourself from ruining the carpet. “I fucking told you I was first-“

“You did go first,” you start to crawl towards him, eyes still on his, and he lets out a deep, lustful sound that sends a shiver of want down your spine. “This is a two way road, Pretty Boy. I want to suck your cock,” you rise back to your knees, looking up at him with a sweet smile as you trace a hand up his leg. “May I?”

Ben’s throat bobs, one hand steadying him on the wall as the other runs through your hair. “I’m supposed to fuck you-“

“You still can,” you shrug, palming him over his jeans. “But this way you get to cum in me twice.”

“Fuck,” Ben’s hand curls on your head into a fist, pulling your head back a little further as his chest rises in uneven movements. “You’re, fucking Christ, I,” you squeeze him, and he lets out a rough hiss. “You want to suck my fucking cock?”

You nod, hands moving up his belt. “If you want-“

Ben rips his jeans off, and you try not to salivate when you see how hard he is. When his hand returns to your hair, angling you further back—so you’re looking up at him through your eyelashes and your mouth is perfectly level with the red, weeping head of him—you smile at him, and he groans.

“You’re so fucking-“

“Ben,” you whisper, savoring the way he shudders when your lips brush over his dick. “I’m doing the work.”

He swallows, eyes flashing. “When I fuck you, I get to cum in you.”

“You were already going to cum in me-“

“And,” his eyes narrow. “I get to do all the work.”

You give him a flat look. “Any other demands for me to suck your cock, Benjamin?”

He pauses, actually thinking about it, and mutters, “shirt off.”

“What-“

“Take your shirt off. I want to see your pretty fucking tits bounce.”

“Oh, well,” you drop your hands down to the hem of your shirt, muttering under your breath. “Since you asked so nicely-“

“Brat.”

You stick your tongue out at him, letting it brush on the underside of his cock, and pull your shirt over your head. The flash of want in Ben becomes so powerful you almost give up on your whole bright I do the work idea, but your own need to touch him still triumphs. Ben’s moved his dick to rest against your lips, pressing it down against them in an inpatient, silent request that makes you grind onto the air, and you smile up at him again. His jaw is set, and he’s looking at you like you’re some sort of twisted salvation.

I love you, you feel him twitch against you, and part your lips just enough for Ben to push himself between them. Your hands fly up, one holding his thigh to steady yourself and the other prying his fingers around his cock away, replacing them with your own. I love you, Ben. Now relax and let me suck your dick.

Something fevered and bloody and starved rushes through Ben’s body into yours, and you don’t wait to hear his response—verbal or in your head—before you start moving. You take all of him in one movement, letting him bump the back of your throat, sucking as your teeth scrape lightly and your hand moves to play with his balls, then pull back as slow as you can manage. You do that a few times, feeling his muscles tense and rubbing your thighs together in a poor attempt to relieve yourself even a bit, before Ben growls your name and you have to pull yourself slightly back to blink at him.

“If you don’t stop taking your sweet goddamn time,” his jaw is clenched, his words through teeth as he throbs in your mouth. “I’m going to throw you on the bed and fuck-“

You suck as hard as you can, teasing his head with your tongue, and your hand starts to pump over what’s not in your mouth as you grin at him. Better?

He groans, a vein twitching in his neck as he throws his head back, and you don’t think you’ve ever really lived before this. It’s an odd thought to have right now, when you’ve started to move your head up and down his cock, and you're getting so wet you can feel it running down your leg, but you’ve never felt alive like this, in a way that’s not a task or some sort of trial. But now you’re alive in a way that’s for you. He looks like a fucking god, and tastes like salt and earth and Ben, and the sounds you’re pulling out of his chest are so primal. It’s making you feel powerful, how this immovable man, made of steel and gunpowder and his own pure will, is saying your name like it’s a prayer. You feel alive, and perfect, and beautiful, and whatever other Ben deems you in the vulgar praise falling from his mouth.

“Fucking, god, fuck you’re perfect,” his hips have started to rut into you, and you adjust to account for them, squeezing his balls to make the movements bigger and swallowing on him when he starts to pull back. “You’re so fucking good and perfect and you look so fucking beautiful, sucking my cock all good and pretty, so warm and fuck.” His hips stutter, and you know he’s close. “You’re a goddamn miracle, Sunshine, it’s, goddamnit, I fucking love you,” his gaze drops back down to yours and you whine around him. “I love you, fuck, you have no fucking idea how much I love you-“

You pull almost all the way off, swirling your tongue over his top, and plunge back down with a moan and hollow of your cheeks. When your nose bumps against his muscled abdomen you suck on him, forgoing pointless things like breathing, and Ben makes a deep, feral noise that’s half your name and half a swear when he cums. You have to close your eyes to focus on not gagging, letting him shoot down your throat and taking as much of it as you can, but there's more than the other times you’ve done this, and you’re a little dizzy from the way his orgasm is crashing over your body and overwhelming force of his love bursting in your chest, so a fair amount gets away from you.

You’ve barely pulled off of his dick when Ben’s hauling you off the ground, kissing you with a passion and fury that sets your blood on fire, and grinning against your mouth.

“You’re too fucking good at that,” he mutters your name, and you start to squirm against him, trying chase release with the sound of Ben’s voice. “I swear to fucking Christ, you’re going to be the death of me.”

“Ben-“

He pulls away from you, tossing you onto the bed and letting out a gruff, satisfied sound at your whimper. “I need a minute, beautiful. I got a hell of a lot more stamina than any other fucking pussy you’ve been with, but I still need to be properly goddamn hard to fuck you like you deserve.”

“Please, fuck, Ben,” you lift your hips off the mattress, trying to show him how you might implode if he doesn’t touch you right fucking now. “Need you, I need you now-“

Your words fall into a heavy moan as Ben reaches out, running his middle finger up your core, pressing on your clit for only a second and smirking when you keen against him. “You need me? Need me to take good fucking care of you, beautiful? Need me to fucking ruin you with how good I fuck you, take you so fucking well it wrecks you, make you moan my name every time you just fucking sit down?”

“Yes, I, Ben, please-“

“Say it.”

“Ben, I love you, I need you, I want you so fucking much it’s,” his hand pulls away, and you whine. “Benjamin, you fucking asshole-“

“I said I need a fucking minute,” he snaps, pulling his shirt off and crawling between your legs. “But I also love you, brat, so I’m going to help you fix your horny, messy fucking problem. Get you good and well damn ready for me.” His arms wrap around your legs, hooking your knee over his shoulders and holding you still as his breath warms your center. He looks between where you’re wiggling under his hold and your wide, pleading eyes on his, and frowns. “Relax,” he mutters your name, and you pull at his hair. “I’ve got you. Always fucking got you.”

You nod, taking a long breath and dropping your head back as Ben squeezes your thighs.

“Good,” he’s so full of devotion, his voice is so deep and easy, it washes over you and relaxes your body in his hold. “Really fucking good, Sunshine. Hold on.”

It’s all the warning you get before Ben dives between your legs, licking a long, heavy strip up your cunt and sucking on your clit until you’re panting, grinding onto his face. He chuckles at the pathetic, incoherent pleas leaving your mouth as he nips at you and drops back to tongue at your pussy, and you feel high. He’s so good at this, he knows to kiss your clit to make you roll your hips and to bump his nose against you when he plunges his tongue into your body. His beard is tickling and scratching at your inner thighs, and his grip on your body is firm and bruising and it’s so fucking hot, how he squeezes your ass every time he flicks your clit with a too light lick and he pull you further against him when he starts to tonuge-fuck you.

“Ben,” you’re breathless, one hand pulling at his hair while the other tangles in the sheets. “Fuck, slow down, I’m-“

You cut yourself off in a desperate whine, and he even though he doesn’t pause, his voice in your head is gruff. You’re okay?

He’s actually asking. There’s no order in the words, no demand for you to let him keep going. He’s just checking on you, and fuck you love him.

I’m okay. About to cum, though-

Ben yanks you up, pulling your hips off the mattress, and goes faster. He’s savage against you, growling onto your wet heat and eating you alive, making your head spin and heart beat out of your chest, so close, so fucking close to letting go, to the coil in your stomach snapping and launching you into pure fucking bliss-

Ben. Ben, I love you. I love you, please, Ben-

I love you too, beautiful, he bites your clit lightly, flattening his tongue over you before dropping back to where you need him so bad it’s almost painful. Cum for me.

You think you scream. Your whole body contracts as you hit the edge, Ben groans into you, and your orgasm hits you like a train. You’re rolling around in his grip, not sure if you’re trying to get away from how he’s setting your whole body alight or push further into him as he keeps going. Ben’s still going, kissing and licking and sucking at you until you’re clawing at his scalp, your thighs are crushing his head, and you’re so sensitive it’s almost painful.

“Fuck, God, fuck-“ you gasp, and Ben grins against you.

Had enough, Sunshine?

You glare down at him, your elbows wobbling as you try to support yourself. Get up here and fuck me, Benjamin, or you’ll lose the privilege.

He rises up, looking at you with an almost drunken haze in his eyes. “You taste like fucking heaven,” he says your name with a smirk, and one rough, warm hand snakes over your stomach to rub your still fluttering pussy. “You think you’re ready for me? Think you’re going to be able to take all of me?”

It might kill you. He’s hard again, you can see his cock pressing against the mattress, and it’s really only hitting you now how big he is. Ben’s huge and thick, you might end up split open on him, but there are worse ways to go. For one, dying of how much you love him. How thirsty you are for Ben to just fuck you, to fill you up and make you scream, would be a lot less enjoyable death.

“Words-“

“Fuck me,” you look back up at him, and don’t care if he hears how desperate you are. “Now, Benjamin. Fuck me now.”

The glow inside his chest erupts, and your body shakes from the sheer force of it, of Ben.

“Do you know,” he drawls from above you, and he’s going to be a cocky asshole about this. You wouldn’t have him any other way, but if he doesn’t hurry up you might go out of your mind before he’s even inside you. “Exactly how long I’ve wanted to fuck you, Sunshine? Fuck you right? Fuck you senseless until you’re just a wrecked, hot fucking mess, until you cum so hard you see fucking stars?”

“Ben-“

“Months,” he hisses, eyes tracing over every curve of your body like he’s trying to memorize it. “You have no goddamn idea how many times I came in my hand to just the fucking thought of you, of how beautiful you’d look beneath me like this. You fucking haunted me,” he growls your name, pressing you down into the mattress as you squirm against his hand. “There isn’t a single thing I haven’t thought about doing to you, a single way I haven’t pictured fucking you like the perfect brat you always are. But,” his eyes move back to yours and he smirks. “This is beyond fucking anything I managed to dream up. You’re all fucking sweaty and horny, so goddamn wet and desperate for my cock, already got my cum on your perfect fucking tits, already so fucking wet. I’m going to fuck you dumb, Sunshine. I’m going to fucking ruin you.”

“Please,” you gasp when his hand leaves its spot between your thighs, and you can’t look away from him as he spits on his hand. “Just, fuck, Ben, just do it-“

He slaps your pussy, and you fall flat on your back from the sheer force of his love, in your body, numbing your every thought to Ben. Ben, I love you. I love you so fucking much, but if you don’t fuck me right now I’m going to kill you-

Ben laughs—rumbling his chest as he crawls over you and echoing through the room—and it’s the best sound you’ve ever heard. His hands start to trace small patterns on your hips, and when he’s hovering above you his smile is so wide. Cocky and adoring and bright, and your mouth goes slack just from the sight of it. You love him. It’s actually going to kill you how much you love him, how safe and cared for you feel under him, how he’s caging you naked between his broad chest and mattress but you’ve never felt more free.

His hand traces down your body, pinching and rolling your nipple between his fingers before moving lower, and you couldn’t look away from him if you tried. He’s handsome, he’s always handsome, but this is different. In the high of all the pleasure and bliss he’s pulled from your body, he’s melting and molding you against him with just the sight of him. Chiseled features and distinguished jawline, boundless, pretty eyes that are blown out with love and lust but still have a ring of that green that will follow you for the rest of your life. Full lips that you get to bite and kiss, perfect lines that draw and contract in a silent language you’ve memorized and will never forget, and dark hair that’s falling over his brow. He looks like someone designed him. Like a statue of a god whose only job is to worship. Some sort of ironic deity who’s dedicated to caring for whoever loves them, whoever really, truly, purely loves them the way you love Ben.

Your hand rises up, brushing away the hair from his eyes because you can. Because Ben is yours, and you love him, and you feel a little infinite when his muscles flex around you and the love in his body flickers with something soft. Your eyes move slowly back down from his forehead to meet his gaze, and you don’t think anyone’s ever looked at you like that. With such a burning, wrathful, devout and world-ending reverence. Your hand moves to rest against his beard, and you try not to be too smug about how he leans into it.

“Hi, Benjamin.” You whisper, and when he grins at you, you can’t stop your smile from overtaking your face.

“Hi, Sunshine.” His head drops to your neck, and his words are muffled on your skin. “Ready?”

You nod, swallowing when he twitches again your thigh. “I love you.” You mumble, spreading your legs as Ben lines himself up against you and leaves an open-mouthed, adoring kiss on your pulse point. “I really fucking love you, Ben. You have no idea-“

His mouth crashes up into yours, and you moan as he kisses you breathless and dizzy into the mattress. “I have some fucking idea,” he mutters, and his imprint in your chest becomes consuming. Rushing your body with focused, primal, raw and bloody ardor and love. Ben loves you, loves you so much it shakes the earth, and you make a happy, easy sigh when he draws back, brow pressed to yours and his voice is hoarse. “I love you too. A fuck ton.”

You give a small smile, hands playing with his hair between your fingers. “A fuck ton, huh? That’s a whole lot, Pretty Boy, are you sure?”

He snorts, “brat,” and pushes into you.

There’s no resistance. In the wake of Ben touching and tasting you, of saying every foul and teasing thing under the sun all while mixing it with small reminders that he loves you, you’re so wet you could probably solve a drought in a small country. But he’s still going slow. Ben’s moving into you so slow that you can feel every single inch of him, filling you up and making your legs shake before he’s even halfway to bottoming out.

You squirm slightly, trying to adjust to accommodate him further, and he hisses in your ear. “Stop moving.”

“Stop going so slow-“

He swallows your protests with his mouth over yours, and shoves the remainder of him into you with one movement that makes you gasp, your hands curling in his hair as he hits that one spot, then goes further. Ben’s in you, just resting in you without any relief or movement, his head still resting against yours. It’s the only boundary left between you now, skin and muscle, because Ben’s imprint in your chest has spread to cover every inch of your body and make it impossible to know if all the love when your legs move up to lock around him is his or yours. It’s Ben and you, the same in every way that matters, with your breathing in a matched, ragged rhythm and your whole body aware that this is it. This is everything. Ben’s whole body is pressed to yours, his arms tensed over you, and when you squeeze around him once, just to see what happens, he makes a low groan that sets your blood on fire.

He grunts your name, watching you with that awe in his eyes mixed with starvation, and this time the squeeze is involuntary. “I told you to stop fucking moving.”

“I’m not moving-“

Ben gives you a look that almost melts your body, because it’s so dry and grumpy and adoring and hungry, and fuck you love him. “You are moving.” He thrusts once in the smallest, most painfully good movement you’ve ever felt, and your mouth falls open. “I can fucking feel you moving, Sunshine. I can feel you everywhere,” his words are being muttered against your slack lips, and there’s a light dancing in his eyes on yours that makes you a little dazed. “You’re so fucking tight, taking me so fucking good, so perfect under me, fucking full of me.”

He rolls his hips once, and you moan, trying to grind up into him. “Ben, please-“

“I do the work,” he grunts, voice strained and something molten running around in your gut. Ben’s gut. Fuck, it really doesn’t matter because he’s talking again, and his voice has never been so low and demanding, sending a shiver up your spine. “You lay here and let me fuck you until your smart fucking mouth is screaming my name and your pretty eyes are rolling back in your head.”

Please-

“Words,” he snaps, eyes narrowing. “Need to fucking hear how stupid I fuck you, beautiful. Hear what I do to you.”

You swallow, pulling the words from some far corner of your brain that’s been pushed away by the song of Ben in your body, and almost lose them again when he makes another small, torturous movement inside of you. “Fuck, Ben, please-“

“There it is,” he grins, voice teasing and a hand moving to cup your cheek. “Was that so fucking hard.”

“I’m,” you take a long, strangled breath as he tilts your head back, kissing across your face but never on your mouth. “God, fuck, I’m not the hard one-“

He chuckles, pulling back to watch you with that reverence, and you’re alive and love him and if he doesn’t do something about that soon you’re going to murder him. “Such a fucking brat,” he mutters, pulling himself out in one, smooth motion and watching your eyes widen. “So fucking beautiful, fucking needy, and I haven’t even really fucked you yet-“

“Benjamin-“

“Say it like that,” he grunts through his teeth, only the head of his cock still pressed inside you. “Keep fucking saying it like that.” His hand moves back to tangle in your hair, and you wiggle under him, trying to bring him back into you. “God, you’re so fucking good-“

“You’re such a fucking dick-“

“You love me.” Ben grins, pushing in just enough to make you whine. “And you love my fucking dick.” His eyes scan your face, and his words lose the taunting, playful tone. “I fucking love you, Sunshine. Look at me.” You blink at him, and he kisses you once, moving just a little further back in. “I love you so much it’s going to be the fucking death of me. Makes me lose my goddamn mind, how much I love you.” He rises back up, and everything in him is devotion. You can feel it, somewhere so deep in your chest and wrapped around your body, that Ben’s love for you might be the most powerful force in the universe. That it’s fitting so perfectly with your own love, you can barely tell the difference.

“Ben-”

“I love you,” he says your name, gaze dropping to watch himself push all the way in, a low groan leaving his body when he pulls out with the most sinfully wet sound you’ve ever heard. “You’re the love of my fucking life, and you were goddamn made for this.”

“Just,” he pushes back in, and your head falls back. “God, just fuck me-“

He pushes your head up, forcing you to meet his eyes. “Don’t stop looking at me.“

“Ben-“

His face cracks into a grin, his hand carefully moving your brow so he can give it a gentle, deceptively sweet kiss, and a low grunt leaving him when you make small, wanting noise. He draws himself back above you, and he’s everything. He’s firm and strong and wrapped around you, twitching inside you and running through your body, and all your words have devolved into desperate, pathetic moans.

His voice is low, eyes never leaving yours as he leans down, lips brushing with yours. “And fucking beg.”

You’re past dignity. Ben’s stretching you open around him, hitting every single spot inside your body that makes your head spin, and the warmth of his body, his touch, the feeling of his love, is making your brain fall into a natural, easy pattern of Ben. “Please,” you whisper, your stomach tensing and heartbeat picking up just from the unyielding attention of Ben’s gaze, peeling you apart for him to know and care for and love. “Please, Ben. I love you, but please fuck me before I lose it.”

You can feel his mouth curl into a smirk, feel him leave your body again, and any protests or pleas or curses die in your throat when he speaks, muttering against your lips and squeezing waist.

“Good girl.”

Something hot and wrathful shoots through your blood, your whole world going blurry with the ache and need for him, and Ben finally starts to move. Slow, with long, deep thrusts that make your mouth slack and a little drool run over your lips, his warm, firm weight over your body pinning you down and stopping any attempts to grind on him and take more.

“Already so fucking wrecked beautiful.” Ben’s lips are still brushing yours, and he grunts when your tongue darts out to try and lick him. “But you need to look at me.”

Your eyes shoot open, and you swallow when you see how close he is. His nose is bumping yours, breaths trading between lungs, and his jaw is clenched as he starts to angle his hips to hit you deeper, a powerful, craving fervor shooting between your bodies when you clench around him.

“There you are,” he kisses you once, soft and gentle, and you whimper as his pace starts to pick up. Finding a steady beat where he doesn’t pull out quite as far, but still ruts back into you and slams against your cervix. “Christ, you’re tight. Goddamn perfect, fucking squeezing me like that, so fucking good-“

You moan, your hands tugging at his hair and your arms wrapping around his back, the muscles of them flexing with every movement and god he’s so warm, you feel so full-

“Fucking knew how good you’d be, under me all pretty and dumb from my cock. Fucking soaking me, driving me fucking insane with how wet and tight and perfect you are, could spend a fucking lifetime here-“

“Ben, please-“

“You want that, Sunshine? Want to spend forever fucking impaled on my cock?” His tone is taunting again, but you’re too far gone to care. His big, calloused hand is rubbing firm patterns on your waist, and he keeps bumping against a part of you that you hadn’t been aware of before. A soft, spongy and sensitive place in your body that’s making your whole pussy contract around him, driving any sort of coherent thought out of your brain as it all fades to Ben. Deep words that you only half-understand, ripping you open and apart without even trying, ardor and passion and furious love coursing through your every nerve and making your blood electric.

You whimper, scraping at his neck and unable to unlock your gaze from his. Ben.

“Fucking words.” He rolls his hips with this movement, and you moan. “Say my fucking name, beautiful. Tell me how fucking bad you want me.”

“Want you,” you whine, trying to chase his mouth and squirm in his hold. Get just a little more friction. “Fuck, Ben, I want you so bad, I need you-“

He hums, and grins at you. “Say you love me.”

“I love you, Ben, please, more-“

“Tell me how it feels.”

“Good, so fucking good, you’re so big and, fuck, it’s so good, need more-“

He grunts your name, and when you fall back enough to earth to really study his face, it’s serious. “Say that you know I love you.”

“You love me,” you whisper, he starts to move faster. Slamming in and out of you with an abandon, his hand on your waist kneading and pulling at your skin in a perfect fucking pain. “You love me, Ben, I know you love me-“

You’re high. Ben kisses you, devouring every single moan and scream of his name, chewing them with teeth on your lips and running his tongue over the roof of your mouth, and you’ve never felt this good. He won’t stop moving now, the bed is creaking under his brutal and almost feral movements, and he’s everything. You can’t think, can’t speak, can’t do anything but claw at the rippling muscle of his back, grind up into him, and gasp when his hand traces over your abdomen to your clit, giving you feather light, teasing flicks as he rams into your body.

“Please,” you gasp, and the pad of his finger presses against you just as he rips back into you. “Benjamin, please-“

“So good,” he mutters, lips still never fully leaving yours. “You’re so fucking good, Sunshine, fucking Christ you take me perfect. Fuck, I love you, you’re so fucking hot all wrecked on my cock, most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen-“

Every word of his filthy, foul praise is setting you on fire. Ben thinks you’re good, and you’re molded against him perfectly, and fuck, Ben-

It would be overwhelming if it wasn’t the closest thing you’ve felt to heaven. How Ben’s so deep in you—feels so right snapping his hips against you and driving his dick inside you—that you’re not sure how you’ll fare once he pulls out. How this is ruining you, because you feel fucking alive and Ben is worshiping you in way that makes you think he has some sort of guide to your body. How to run a thumb over your nipple when he wants you to spasm under him, how to time it with every ripple of his muscle so that your whole body goes limp in his arms. How to kiss you deeper when he’s pulling out, and suck on your lower lip when you start to whimper for more friction. How all his ministrations and effort and love for you is making your blood start to burst out of your body, how you trust him so much you don’t care to try and hold it back.

Ben’s movement stutters inside you, and he moans. His finger on your clit jerks as his whole body tenses, and kisses become brutal. Sloppy and desperate, the sounds he’s making causing your legs to spread wider, your hands to rake up and down his back like you can make him move faster.

“Close,” you manage to push the words out, and Ben’s movements grow more and more uneven. “Close, Ben, fuck-“

“Think you can cum with me?" He growls, and you nod frantically as his finger on your clit starts to rub fast circles that set your pussy on fire. “Think you can be a good fucking girl for me, Sunshine, and fucking drench my cock? Let me fill you up like you deserve?”

“Yes, Ben-“

“Cum,” he orders, saying your name down your throat, and your whole body lights up. Your release, wet and warm, falls out of you, and you’re too fucked out to even care that you forgot to warn him. It’s all pleasure, racking through your body and the world grows fuzzy everywhere but Ben. Still jerking inside you as his hot cum shoots into you your pussy, spreading a kind of blissful ease and sense of belonging through you, groaning your name between your parted lips, muscled, strong arms wrapping around you and rough, big hands touching your with a soothing reverence as you burn.

You’re burning, and Ben’s right there with you. Inside you. His own orgasm is doubling the force of yours, and he’s everything good in the world around you.

But you’re not actually on fire. There’s light and smoke all over your body, but the sheets are still soft under your bare skin, and Ben’s hair and skin between your fingers isn’t being scorched and twisted. Ben is still all around you, movements stilled and making deep sounds that roll through your bones as he finishes inside you, but it’s not just that. Your bodies are still both salty with sweat and cum, and the taste of coffee and strawberries should be long gone from Ben’s mouth, but all your senses are invaded with pine. Ben and pine and vanilla and strawberry. When you blink up at him, he’s glowing. It’s a misty haze of Ben, and it’s the whole world. The whole room is cast in a green light, like you’re under the ocean or in depths of the forest, and the whole world is Ben.

As you come down, Ben’s brow falling to yours and your whole body relaxing in his arms, the light fades, and you’re left with every nerve in your body ablaze and your every thought addled with Benjamin. I love you, really love you. Please do that again, I need you to do that to me again, that was good. Really good. You’re really fucking good, Ben, and I love you.

But things like words are still far away from your brain, so when you keen against him all you can do is make a loud and choked sound that you don’t fully understand, but Ben somehow manages to.

“I know, my love, I’ve got you. Always fucking got you.”

That’s new. My love is new, and god it’s going to drive you out of your mind. He loves you. Ben loves you, and you’re his, and he’s got you. It kickstarts your brain, and you smile, fully smile, up at him. Handsome and proud and watching you with a devotion you can feel in your blood. Your blood, all yours and twice as strong with Ben mixing with it.

“I love you.” It’s so natural to say. You’re supposed to say it, and he’s the only one who’s really meant to hear it. There’s so much love for him, tearing through your body and igniting your head, and nobody but Ben would have to resolve and will to take it all and throw it back to you. “Benjamin,” you mumble, your hand gliding up his neck to tangle in his hair. “You’re, I love you.”

He nods, head dropping lower to press against your neck as he settles above you, just holding you. Tracing gentle patterns on your skin and touching you in that reverent, careful way. “I love you too, Sunshine. You’re the goddamn light of my life, and I love you so goddamn much.”

You hum, and your smile feels right. All of this feels right.

You make real fucking good sounds when you cum on me, as well. Squeeze me like a goddamn vice. A pause, and then, are you a fucking squirter?

You glance down between your bodies, and shrug. Sometimes. That was kind of a small one though. I’ve been known to cause plumbing issues.

His hands still on your body. Are you fucking with me.

No. I do squirt. Not always, but sometimes. I know it’s messy, I should’ve told you-

You’re going to do that again. I’ll fucking kill someone to get you to do that again.

You giggle, slowly combing fingers through his hair, basking in the weight of Ben above you, the heat of his body relaxing your every muscle. Horny old man.

I just fucked my woman, I’m allowed to be as fucking horny as I want. There’s a pause, and his head moves up, chin resting on your chest as he glares at you. And I’m not old.

I’m your woman, you grin at him, and a sharp flash of something prideful and insatiable runs over your skin. You’re not sure if it’s yours or Ben’s, and you don’t think you care to know anymore. I’m allowed to call you old all I want. Should’ve chosen a nicer girl if you didn’t want to be reminded that you’re a fucking dinosaur.

Don’t want a nicer girl. He wink. I love my bratty, mean fucking pain in the ass.

That shouldn’t make you almost cry, but it does. You blink at him, and even in your head your voice is soft. I love you, Benjamin. You’re a grumpy man-child, and I love you.

He swallows, kisses your cheek, and starts to rise away from you.

You scramble up on your forearms, watching him with wide eyes. “Come back-“

“Unless you want to sleep covered in fucking cum,” Ben drawls, glaring down at you in a way that’s not going help any argument to let him leave the bed. “I have to go to the bathroom so we can clean you up.”

“I don’t care.” You reach to his shoulders, trying to pull him back fully over you. “We can shower in the morning-“

Ben’s face splits into a cocky grin. “We?”

“Yes, Ben, we-“

“No tears,” his eyes narrow, scanning over your naked body with a gaze that’s meant to be purely analytical, but still makes you press your slightly sore thighs together. “You’re okay.”

You smile at him when his eyes find yours again, your whole body wrapped in his stone concern. “I’m okay. I just want you here-“

That’s all it takes for Ben to fall back onto you, and your hand moves up to trace the defined muscles of his shoulder, only for him to catch it and kiss your knuckles.

I’m here.

Something in you melts, and you lean up to kiss his cheek. Thank you.

Don’t.

No. Thank you, Benjamin, you cunt.

He grins at you, and squeezes your hand. Brat.

“Can I ask you something,” you say aloud, and Ben gives a small nod for you to continue. “How long have you, um, known? That you love me?”

“Few weeks,” he mutters, watching you carefully. “Loved you longer, though.”

You frown. “What do you mean?”

“Doesn’t fucking matter-“

Benjamin. You give him a flat look, and he sighs, the prickly, sore feeling of embarrassment on his skin returning.

“I’ve never, fuck,” he pushes the words through teeth, hand tight around yours. “I’ve never loved a damn person like I love you. I didn’t get it. I’d do fucking anything for you,” he snaps your name, and you’re almost amused by how annoyed he sounds. “And I know you probably fucking got it right away, but I’ve never been in real love, fucking apparently, so-“

“Ben,” you whisper, words gentle but firm, just enough to make him stop ranting. “I have been in love before, and this does feel different. It took me a while to get as well.”

His jaw is still clenched, but something loosen in his gut. “How long.”

“I don’t actually know,” you shrug. “I realized a few months ago, and it felt like I’d always been in love with you. I, um,” you swallow, squirming a little under the intensity of Ben’s gaze. “I just didn’t really care how long I’d actually loved you. It’s something that felt like a part of me, so I wouldn’t even really know where to start figuring out where it came from. I know that I love you, and that’s it.”

“Why didn’t you tell me,” he mutters, eyes scanning over your face. “If it’s been goddamn months, why didn’t you just fucking say something.”

“I didn’t think you’d love me,” you mumble, staring at Ben’s jaw, unable to fully meet his eyes. “And I don’t, um, I couldn’t risk losing you if you didn’t want me like that.”

“Don’t be fucking insane,” he snaps, and you swallow. “Even if I was so much of an idiot fucking pussy not to love you, I’d never fucking leave you. As long as you want me here, I’m going to be right at your goddamn side. You burn, I burn,” he grunts your name, and you smile. “That’s fucking that.”

“You burn, I burn,” you whisper. “And I do want you here, Ben. You’re my best friend, and I like having you here.”

“Good,” he mutters, dropping his brow back to your body. “I like fucking being here. You should get some sleep.”

“We just spent all day sleeping-“

Wrong. His voice is stern and low in your head, his arms wrapping around your waist. We just spent all night fucking. MM said we’ve got a meeting with the team in the morning, Sunshine. And you still need the rest.

You sigh. But-

I’ll be right fucking here. Sleep.

Overall, you’re going to have to figure out how to combat that particular effect he has on your body. How to use it selectively, like when he’s telling you to cum. But, right now—with Ben sprawled naked and warm above you, his hands kneading and rubbing on your skin—you let the hum of Ben’s love in your chest wash a comfortable, easy sleep over your mind.

You don’t have nightmares, or dreams. It's a restful, calm sleep that you wake up from in what feels like a blink, that makes your every thought clear and your body feel fresh as you watch the light of dawn break. Ben’s still above you, his snores filling the room, and you smile. This is right where you’re supposed to be. In a bed that smells like pine and belongs to you, with a warm, handsome man you love so much it will kill you, having tangled your legs with his in sleep and holding you so tight you’re trapped beneath him. You could burn him, or poke him, or slap him to wake him up, but you don’t really want to. Ben looks so peaceful, so content and comfortable, and you love him too much to wake him up.

And then he shifts around you, his fully hard cock poking into your upper thigh, and he needs to wake up now. He’ll have a lifetime, several of them, to sleep all lazy and content above you, but right now you’re still sensitive from last night—still aching for him and desperate for him everywhere—and you’re not doing this again. His breath on your neck is starting to pick up, he’s started to rut against you, and when the low, grumbled sounds of hunger start to leave his mouth, that’s it.

“Ben,” you hiss, leaning down to speak in his ear, and his hips jerk, almost drawing a whine from your throat. “Benjamin, wake up.”

He mutters your name, and you start to push him up, off of you. You can feel your pussy start to contract around nothing—he’s not doing you any favors by pressing his tip of him against you in his sleep—and you at least need him off of you so you can take care of yourself.

“I swear to fucking god, you cunt,” you forgo a soft, quiet tone, and your voice rises to a loud snap. “If you don’t get your huge fucking ass off of me, I’ll-“

Ben’s eyes shoot open, finding yours in a second, and your words turn into a squeal as he sits up, pulling you onto his lap in one, fluid motion.

“Good morning, Sunshine,” he mutters, voice gruff and heavy with sleep, and you can still feel him pressed against your ass. “What’s so fucking important you had to wake me up from my very good dream about you?”

You wrinkle your nose at him. “You were on top of me.”

“I’m always on top of you,” he winks, and your body is very traitorous, letting that movement—combined with how his chest is still bare, and his lips are a little swollen from sleep, and’s the most attractive man alive whom you love very much—send a spark through your body, right into your pussy. “What’s wrong.”

It’s easier to show him, so you grind down on Ben once and his hands tighten on your hips.

“You have a problem, Pretty Boy.” You give him a too sweet smile and heat flashes between your cores. “Couldn’t let you deal with it yourself.”

His nostrils flare, and he bucks up into you once, making you almost collapse of his chest. “Don’t think I’m the only one with the fucking problem, beautiful. Think we can help each other?”

“Maybe,” you lean down to speak against his lips, and Ben slides you further up his lap. “How would you want to help me?”

“Right here,” he grunts, eyes dropping down to your tits—pressed against his chest—and where you’re straddling him. “Fuck up into you. See if you can take me going slow this time. If I can make you so fucking dizzy I need to carry you to the dining hall.”

“Oh, shit,” you mumble, starting to twist in Ben’s lap. “The meeting-“

“We’ve got time,” Ben’s hands hold you firm above him, and when you turn around to frown at him, his eyes are narrowed. “Plenty of fucking time, my love. All the damn time in the world for me to fuck you, take real good care of you, and get you in a hot shower before Mallory starts being a fucking bitch about how we’re late.”

You stay against him because he called you my love again, and it’s doing something to your brain that makes the world bright and happy. You still manage to glare at him, though, and snap, “how long.”

“Two hours.” He grins, pushing slightly up into you. “Two long fucking hours for me to make you moan.”

If you were a stronger woman, if you weren’t so blinded by love and lust and thirst and Ben, you have him and he loves you and you can feel it and fuck anyone who tries to take that away from you, you’d have rolled off of him, given him a sharp glare, and said Benjamin, we have work to do, you can fuck me later.

You are not a stronger woman. But Ben’s cock is pressed right against you, his hips are rocking just enough for him to slide easily between your folds, and he’s watching you with a drunken, high look in his eyes, so you think you’ll be able to find peace with that. All your love is spreading between Ben and your minds and bodies, and it’s making him look a little feral, so you think you’ll survive being susceptible to his low voice and handsome face.

You fall onto him, pressing your lips against his in a heavy, long, deep kiss, and you grin. Prove it.

He’s not bothering to prep you this time, but you’re so wet you can hear it when he shifts you into a better position, so it won’t really matter. Ben runs one finger between your pussy lips, spreading them open as he slowly pumps his cock, and when he guides himself to line up against you, he pauses.

“Gonna go slow, Sunshine,” he grunts, and you nod. “Arms on my neck.”

You listen to him mindlessly, wrapping yourself around his body, and it only takes one, deep thrust for Ben to push himself up into you.

He lets you move on him. His head is falling to your chest, one big, rough hand palming at your tits, and when you roll your body above him he just takes a sharp breath and lets you move. You start to bounce on him, your mouth pressed against his brow and his hold on your waist growing bruising, and when he starts to suck on your throat with a fervor you almost scream. He yanks you down, stilling your motions as he throbs inside you, and he bites at your pulse point with a flick of your nipple.

Slow, his voice rumbles in your head, and your breath hitches. One more chance, beautiful, then I’m taking over.

You nod, and his thumb soothes the hurt on your breast as you start to grind down onto him. You let every whimper and moan and sigh leave your throat, savoring the way it always makes Ben jerk inside you. He’s still touching you—slow and gentle and leaving goosebumps whenever his hands ghost over a new area of skin—but the most he does is a groan against your collarbone that rolls through your body, or a buck of his hips when you clench around him.

“Real fucking good,” he grunts your name, voice muffled on your body. “So good, riding my cock all pretty and sweet. Making all those perfect fucking sounds for me, Christ-“

His hand on your hips has moved up, pulling you so close your heartbeats are in time and your teeth are brushing against his ear when you moan. You make a choked gasp when you roll your hips on a circle, feeling every twitch of him inside you, and every single word Ben says is making a hazed pleasure spread through your body, making you squirm above him.

“Let me fucking hear you,” he rubs your nipple between two careful, broad fingers, and you give him and loud, deseperate, pleading, moan. “Good girl, so fucking good.”

Please, Ben, more- You gasp when he switches his attention to your other breast, and Ben chuckles.

“You like that, Sunshine? Like me inside you, like feeling how perfect you fit over me, how, fuck,” you’ve started to rock back and forth, and his hand drops from your tits to brush over your stomach, down to your clit. “You feel so fucking good, so good and fucking beautiful, I fucking love you, love how good you take me, how you say my fucking name-“

Ben-

“Just like that, fuck, you’re so fucking good, fucking, Christ, you need, fuck-“

Suddenly you're still, Ben’s hand moving around to press on your lower back, and realized you’d started to ride him again. Fast and rough, lost in his words and how he was saying your name like a prayer, how Ben is everything, you should give him everything-

“I told you we were going slow,” he mutters in your ear, and you can’t stop your breathless moan when he starts to fuck, up, into you, and his groan sending electricity through your body as you squeeze around him. “You didn’t fucking listen, brat, so now it’s my turn.”

He’d tricked you. The fucking asshole had known what all the praise would do to you—it was like he’d studied just what say to wreck you with only his words—and had baited you into it. Called you good girl and pretty and said it in that way that echoed in your ribs like a drum, that made you crave more, to make you move faster on him. You know Ben, you can feel how smug and prideful he is, how the glow is being hounded by a cocky, massive sense of triumph. He’s grinning against your shoulder, and you’re going to give him hell for it.

Later. You’ll shove his chest and slap his arm later.

Right now you can’t really dwell on how much of a dickhead he is, because he’s holding you tight against his body and splitting you open on his cock. It’s so slow, he’s set and unrelenting pace of torture when he knocks against the deepest part of you, rolls his hips, and pulls almost fully out before driving back up in a lazy, unhurried, and careful thrust.

You’re going to kill him. You make empty threats like this all the time, but this one you mean. He’s such a smug bastard, and this feels so fucking good, and you’re so full, he’s holding your with such care and love and your name is falling from his lips like it’s holy, but you’re going to kill him. He’s dragged you right to the edge, but won’t just push you over it.

“Benjamin,” you hiss, the needy and high tone of your voice not selling how genuine close you are to punching me. “I need you to go faster, I’m so close-“

“I want to fucking feel you,” he grunts your name, and you shake your head and tug at his hair. “You feel so good, you just need to wait. Patience is a virtue, beautiful, you just have to hold on and wait.”

You whine, and his hand moves back to trace around your clit, but never right over it. “Ben, please-“

“Almost,” he mutters, running his thumb over you for a split second, making your whole body shiver. “So good. I fucking love you, Sunshine, want you to cum with me.”

“Please-“

Ben’s last thrust, powerful and rough as he pinches your clit, sends your orgasm crashing through you like a wave. He’d pulled a little further out, sucking on your neck as you shake in his arms, and you can feel his cum dribble out of you, running down your thighs. As your moans and curses fall into slow breaths and whimpers, Ben leaves gentle, reverent kisses up your jaw and across your check. Your head tilts down on instinct to catch his mouth, and he hums as your tongue runs over his lips.

You’re caged against Ben’s body, his arms flexing around you as he holds you, and you’ve never felt safer. This is where you belong. All your blood pouring out your body with love, and Ben’s own love so demandingly devout it makes you rest against him without any fear. Only love.

You love Ben, he loves you, and he’s where you belong.

——————

Ben was pretty sure that, at Vought Tower with Butcher and Maeve and Homelander and Annie, he’d actually just fucking died. Someone had figured out how to kill him, an awful misjudgment or error had been made, and he’d ended up in heaven. Or some sort of fucking purgatory, testing him to see if he’d be worthy. If Ben would stand at Her side, wait for her, do what she told him and only sometimes bitch about it. Love Her like she fucking deserved. Earn paradise, prove that he wasn’t a disgraceful, undeserving piece of shit, prove that—if this was heaven—he’d tend to it and care for it and worship it for the rest of his goddamn life.

Of all the possible options for why She loved him, it was the made the most fucking sense. Everything else, in comparison, seemed pretty fucking stupid. This was heaven. She loved Ben, he’d gotten to hear her say it, gotten to fucking feel her around him, and he hadn’t died at Vought she’d certainly fucking killed him there. Squeezing him, moaning his name and scratching his back and Her heart racing in her chest from what Ben did to her, loving Ben and letting him feel it.

It had hit him again. Buried deep inside Her, that high, infinite feeling had crashed through his body, and he’d almost fucking lost it. It had been Her love, for fucking Ben, everywhere around him and making the whole world better.

He’d almost cum just from that alone. He’d never stop being in awe of Her for a whole lot of goddamn reasons, and being able to just fucking live like that was now one of them.

Ben had, in a truly futile effort, tried to convince Her to just stay in bed for the whole goddamn day. The team could take care of it. This might be their problem, but they deserved at least one fucking break. One day for Ben to see if there were in fact limits to their supe stamina, if She’d look just as perfect as she came when she was riding him. Pressed against the wall. Bent over the couch or sitting in a chair, slammed against the floor or squirming against him in the shower or bent over a table-

It hadn’t worked. He’d been very descriptive of all his ideas, very open to suggestions as well, but after many minutes of Her shooting down all his arguments with good fucking points and smart fucking words, she’d crawled away from him, rolling off the bed, and he’d had to follow her into the bathroom for his promised shower.

He’d moved around Her, turning on the water, and she’d glared up at him.

“We’re already going to be late, Benjamin-“

“And who do you have to blame for that, Sunshine?” He’d grinned at Her, and she’d wrinkled her nose at him.

“You’re the one who hid my phone under the pillow,” She’d snapped, crossing her arms and pushing her pretty tits up to fucking taunt him. “That’s sabotage, you cunt. You’re not allowed in my shower.”

“Our shower-“

“Shut the fuck up, Pretty Boy.” She’d pushed his arm lightly, and Ben hadn’t even swayed. “If I let you in here, you’ll just try to fuck me and we’ll be even more late.”

Ben shrugged. He would do that. He’d been planning to do exactly that, but he’d also be damned if he was ashamed for wanting to show Her how much he loved her at any given opportunity. “I will, but you can just fucking tell me no. I’ll stop, and we can have a boring, sex-free shower.”

She’d flushed. “No. Stay out here.”

He’d grinned. She was almost pouting at him, but had stopped trying to shove him away, and her pretty eyes were blown out. “You want me to fuck you in the shower-“

“Fuck you-“

“I know,” his voice had been gleeful, his smile almost straining his face. “You never have a problem telling me. You don’t fucking want to tell me no.”

“Shut up-“

“Here’s the deal, beautiful.” He’d leaned over Her, watching her swallow and smirking at the slack, thirsty expression on her face. “I won’t try to fuck you. Won’t even damn mention it, because I’m a fucking gentleman and I love you. But I get to shower with you, and I’m putting an offer of fucking you on the table. Say the word and I’ll do whatever the fuck you want. But you have to start it. Clear?”

She’d nodded, and let Ben herd her into the steam.

He’d kept his hands to himself. Ben had only thought about how he wanted to push her into the wall and crack the tiles—in a way that he was pretty sure she couldn’t hear—and even tried to stop his semi-hard dick from brushing against her.

Then he’d—fucking innocently—reached over Her to grab his shampoo, and she’d snatched his hand out of the air and brought it down to her center, grinding back into him and will whining pleas.

He’d have been fucking insane to say no. To not rub and flick and play with her perfect fucking pussy until she came, shaking on his hand with her head thrown back against his chest. Ben would’ve had to have lost his goddamn mind.

So now they were twenty minutes late to the meeting. Ben’s hand was folded in Hers, and she was pulling him down the hallway with long, clipped steps that made him want to pick Her up and fuck her.

I love you-

Shut your fucking mouth, Benjamin. You loving me is what made us late in the first place.

He snorted. My mouth is shut, brat.

Shut it more, cunt.

Right before She could push through the dining hall doors, Ben spun her around into his chest, and cupped her face with a light hand. “Let’s go home.”

“We are home.” She smiled at him, hands curling in his shirt, and Ben wasn’t capable of arguing with that foolproof logical when she was so stupid fucking beautiful. “Can you keep it in your pants for the meeting?”

“No.”

“Benjamin-“

He rolled his eyes, and pressed one gentle, soft kiss onto her lips. “Whatever,” he muttered against her, and she let out a breathless sound that was going to give him a fucking seizure from want. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

It was like a fucking damn had broken inside him. Ben couldn’t fucking stop telling Her that he loved her. Even as he slung an arm over her shoulder and pressed a kiss to the top of her head, he wanted to scream it for the whole fucking building to hear. She needed to know, to never fucking forget, and he needed to keep her right fucking there all the time. At his side, leaning into him, squeezing his hand around Her as they entered the dining hall.

Since Mallory wasn’t in attendance, the most shit they got for the late arrival with a few glares and several sighs. They dropped onto the bench, and Ben heard Her heartbeat pick up as the team gaped at them. They looked fucking normal, as far as Ben knew. They’d washed off all the dried cum, put on clothing that wasn’t torn, their hair wasn’t really that fucking out of place. It couldn’t be how they were sitting, because they always sat like this. With Her pressed into his side, leaning her weight into his body, and his body half over hers.

But everyone’s heart was a little faster than normal. And none of them were just fucking speaking. Ben was about to open his mouth and demand some fucking answer, but Butcher broke the silence before he could.

“How very fuckin nice of you two cunts to finally join us,” he drawled, glaring between Her and Ben. “First skippin dinner, then almost playin hooky on the bloody meetin? You got a more rebellious streak than I thought, Love-“

“We were fucking busy,” She snapped, matching Butcher’s glare with one twice as violent. Christ, She was fucking perfect. “Our whole lives don’t revolve around you, Butcher. We’re allowed to miss dinner.”

“And the meeting?” MM muttered, and Her glare turned to him as he raised his hands up. “It’s not out of character, but the Singer shit was your idea. We weren’t able to start without you motherfuckers here.”

“And you ain’t got lives outside of this,” Butcher added with a scoff. “So unless you’re running a secret fuckin drug ring, in which case I’d like in, you shoulda bloody been here.”

She sighed. “It’s none of your business, Butcher.“

“What, were you bloody twats fuckin all night-“

“Yes.” Ben grunted, glowering at Butcher. “Like she said, our fucking business.”

The whole room fell into silence, and Her voice rang in Ben’s ears.

What the fuck, Benjamin.

Sorry, his voice sounded insincere in his fucking brain, because he didn’t fucking mean it in the slightest. This shouldn’t be a fucking secret. People should know that Ben was fucking Her, that they fucking loved each other, and that not a single fucking force in the universe would take them away from each other.

She wasn’t that fucking angry, anyway, because all she did was slap his leg under the table, wrinkling her nose in a way that told Ben they both knew he’d probably do that again, and turn to watch the amusingly varied expressions of shock on their teams faces.

Hughie—with a red fucking face and stuttered words—spoke first. “Um, last night? This last night?”

“And this morning,” Ben winked at him, and She sighed, half burying her face in his chest. “I got good fucking stamina, Hughie, you need some tips I’d be happy to help-“

Her hand shot up to cover his mouth, and when Ben looked down she was giving him a flat look. Do not give Hughie sex tips, please.

You know how fucking good I am, would be damn cruel to deprive the world of what’s yours-

She flushed, but Her glare didn’t waver. Yeah, you’re a real Samaritan, Pretty Boy. And Hughie coughed.

“Um, was this, I guess a new thing? Like the first time-“

Ben scowled. “We haven’t been fucking lying to you pussies about not fucking-“

“It was,” She elbowed Ben in the gut, don’t be mean, and frowned at Hughie. “But I don’t know why that’s important-“

“Sorry, I’m just trying to, uh, put this shit together, I guess.” Hughie swallowed, the rest of the team watching them with a weird fucking intensity. “I, uh, what happened-“

“We fucked, Hughie.” Ben scowled. “It is not my goddamn job to explain fucking to you-“

“No,” Hughie’s heart was going to pound out of his chest like a damn cartoon. “I mean, I know what fucking is. It’s just kind of, uh, sudden? I’m wondering what changed-“

“She told me she loves me,” Ben didn’t bother to hide the smug pride in his voice, or the puff of his chest, and She’d seemingly completely given up on intervening in the conversation. Her face was fully squished against him, and Ben rubbed small circles on her shoulder as he smirked at Hughie. “And I said it back. And we fucked.”

“You just, um, went right into fucking, or-“

“I fingered her first,” Ben shrugged, and She sighed into him. “And then she sucked my cock, and-“

“Hughie-“ MM’s words were a low warning. “That’s all you should fucking need, I do not want a play by play of their sex-“

Her head peaked up, leaning around Ben to frown at MM. “What do you mean, what he should need?” Her gaze turned to Hughie, and the kid flinched. “Hughie. Why do you need to know that stuff.”

“Sorry,” he mumbled, giving Her an apologetic grimace before running a hand over his face and looking around the table. “What day is it?”

“June 9th,” Annie’s answer was quick, and she was watching Hughie carefully. “Little over three months.”

She looked up at Ben with a frown as Hughie started to frown to himself, narrowing his eyes at the air.

What are they talking about?

Fuck if I know, Ben shrugged, looking back at Hughie. I can make him tell us.

I’ll keep that in mind, but for now no torture-

Hughie’s eyes refocused and he sighed. “That’s twenty-five to MM for having three and half months on sex, twenty to Annie for exactly three on feelings, and twenty-five to Kimiko for sex immediately after feelings.”

As everyone groaned and began to pull out wallets, Annie frowned.

“Why do I only get twenty-“

Hughie scratched the back of his neck, giving Annie a sheepish look. “You said he’d confess feelings first, but she did, so you don’t, uh, get the bonus. And we put more on the order and distance-“

At Ben’s side, She was gaping around the table with an indigent glare. “Were you guys betting on us-“

“Sorry,” MM said Her name with a shrug. “But we all got tired of your fucking pining shit, needed to do something with it.”

“You did not need to-“

“You forgot to ask about the positions, Petite Hughie,” The French Prick interrupted Her with a frown, and Hughie sighed.

“We vetoed that one, remember? Nobody bet on it-“

“Nah, Lad, I got fifty riding on who was on top.” Butcher wiggled his eyebrows at Her and Ben. “Think you twats can say the right shit and make Frenchie pay me what he fuckin owes?”

“Butcher,” She snapped, squeezing Ben’s leg in a silent order to keep quiet. “I am not telling you who was on top-“

“Was Soldier Boy, wasn’t it?” Her face flushed, and Butcher gave The French Prick triumphant smirk. “Fuckin told you, Frenchie-“

“She did not say it, I will not pay-“

“You bloody owe me, Mate, don’t make me fucking take it-“

“Holy fuck,” she mumbled, giving Ben an eye roll, idiots, and ignoring his snort as she raised Her voice. “Frenchie, pay him.”

“Non, you must say it-“

“He was on top!” She snapped, and Ben didn’t miss the way her thighs squeezed until the table, where only he could see. “Pay Butcher, and if either of you ever bring this up again, I’ll fucking kill you. Now can we please just do our jobs?”

“Well,” Butcher began, slowly counting the money Frenchie had passed him. “Ain’t that much to update you lot on. Singer’s still got his fuckin head up his ass, blockin us from makin any progress on the V, so we’ve found ourself in a bit of a fuckin stalemate until the president gets off his ass.”

She frowned. “Then why was this so urgent-“

“Because, Love,” Butcher’s sharp gaze rose up, scowling between Her and Ben. “I got some really fuckin interesting news from Mallory yesterday morning, about how Stan Edgar called her sayin Soldier Boy and the Anomaly still ain’t given an answer to his offer. And I’m real fuckin curious what he could be talkin about.”

Ben tensed, pulling Her closer into him, and glared at Butcher as She answered.

“Edgar kind of,” She sighed, fingers tapping on Ben’s knee. “He called us. And, um, asked us to visit him.”

“Why the hell would he want you two to visit him,” MM frowned. “He and Soldier Boy aren’t exactly on good fucking terms, and he’s only met you,” he gave Her a small nod. “Once.”

She glanced up at Ben. Can I tell them? About your IOU?

He didn’t want to tell them—mostly because they’d all fucking yell at him, and he couldn’t kiss them to make them shut up—but after failing think of a single good reason to say no, he shrugged. If you fucking need to, fine.

She nodded, and took a deep breath as she turned back to the team. “I need everyone to promise not to lose their shit, and that they’ll let me finish talking before they jump in.”

“I ain’t makin no fuckin promises-“

“Butcher,” Annie snapped, glaring over Hughie’s still-red face. “Just shut up.”

Butcher scowled, but didn’t say anything more, and Annie gave Her an encouraging nod to continue.

“Okay.” She sighed. “First of all, I’ve already yelled at Ben a lot for this, so you guys don’t have to. It was stupid, and reckless, and lacked any critical thinking skill or obvious foresight-“

You better be fucking going somewhere-

“But,” She kicked Ben’s shin, ignoring his glare. “We were desperate, and I understand why he did it. Even if it was fucking dumb.”

MM frowned. “Are you going to keep vamping for a thousand fucking years, or tell us what this motherfucker did-“

“Ben made a deal with Stan Edgar, and now we,” She gestured between Ben and herself. “Owe him.”

She tensed at Ben’s side as everyone stared at them—mostly Ben, and he probably needed to pretend he actually gave a fuck about the consequence of the IOU, but also She was curled into him and happy and safe so Ben decided he could be fucked—and they waited for the bitching to begin.

“And,” MM ran a hand over his face, shaking his head. “And you didn’t think that would be important fucking information to share with us?”

“No.” She mumbled. “I mean, I know I should’ve, but everyone was still at each other’s throat about Ben and I, and I didn’t want to add fuel to the fire.”

“This ain’t about your bloody relationship drama, Love, this could fuck our asses raw with Soldier Boy’s dumb fuckin-“

“It wasn’t dumb,” She snapped, and Butcher was smart enough to shut up under her glare. It was likely more of a survival instinct, because Ben had been on the receiving end of that specific glare—where She looked like she already had a plan to kill you, there was nothing you could do to prevent it, and your body wouldn’t ever be found—and even he had been a little worried. Less worried than Butcher, because he wasn’t a fucking pussy and that glare was also fucking hot on Her, with curled lips and sharp eyes and Christ she was pretty, but worried all the same. Fuck, even Her voice was hot, firm and venomous. “And I didn’t hide it because of us,” She gestured between herself and Ben, and he needed to get it the fuck together and pay attention to thoughts that weren’t if I fucked Her on the table, how annoying would everyone be about it. “I hid it because I don’t think you can honestly tell me that, if I had told you, you wouldn’t have tried to kill us both.”

“I ain’t able to kill you, I’ve fuckin looked into it-“

“I know that,” She cut off Butcher’s muttering with a scowl. “But my point is that you didn’t trust us. This isn’t something I could share when you didn’t trust us. Got it? Can we talk about the actual issue on the table?”

Butcher rolled his eyes, but nodded.

“Thank you.” She turned back to the rest of the team, frowning into the air as she ran through her thoughts aloud. “Edgar says he has the favor picked out, but wants Ben and I to visit him. We don’t know why I need to be there yet, but we do know that he’ll be ‘in a better mood’ if I do. Whatever that means.”

“And if you do not visit him?” The French Prick watched Her carefully. “Will there be, ah, alternative actions?”

“I don’t know,” She pulled her lips between her teeth, chewing them with such force Ben was worried she’d break skin. “He’s not asking us to bring him anything. Just to keep him company, have lunch with him. He already knows what he wants Ben to do, and he said he’s willing to just cash in the IOU over the phone and that’ll be it. But he still wants us to visit.”

“It might be a, like a trap?” Hughie mumbled, looking around the table with an anxious face. “I mean, Edgar’s never been trustworthy, and he’s kind of the fucking worst-“

She shook her head. “I don’t think it’s a trap. Edgar wouldn’t realign himself with Homelander, and he’s too smart to let Sage pull his strings. I,” She took a long breath. “I want to go. Edgar might be cryptic and an annoying fucking dickhead, but he doesn’t play games that are unwinnable. He’s got some sort of endgame, and I think we should see what it is.”

“No.” Ben didn’t wait for the rest of the team to chime in with their stupid fucking opinions. There wasn’t a single fucking chance he was taking Her out of the compound, upstate, in goddamn public—where Homelander could find Her—for a lunch with Stan Edgar. “I’ll deal with this my goddamn self, we’re not entertaining Edgar’s fucking shit.”

“Ben-“

“I’m with Soldier Boy on this.” MM interjected, and Her eyes widened. “Edgar’s a slippery fucking bastard. No telling what the hell he wants from you, and it’s real goddamn suspicious he’s making it an option. It feels like a fucking trap.”

“It would be a stupid trap,” She crossed her arms, glaring around the table. “It’s way too obvious. And it’s not like we’re helpless if he does try to pull something-“

“But we can’t risk it right now.” Annie sighed, giving Her a close-lipped smile. “I mean, the IOU will be cashed in no matter what, right? Why should we play Edgar’s game when he’s already gotten what he wants?”

Butcher scoffed. “And that, Starlight, is why you never fuckin win on poker nights. Sometimes you gotta take the gamble, bloody live a little and let it pay off. I think the cunts should go, I’m all fuckin in on it.”

“Of course you would be, you asshole-“

“Kimiko and I are also on team go.” The French Prick gave Annie an apologetic look as he cut her off. “Kimiko says that she trusts the judgment of Madame,” the French Prick nodded at Her, and Ben realized he’d fully dropped saying either Anomaly or her name. He could fucking appreciate that, even if Frenchie was making to dogshit fucking choice of siding with Her dumb as fuck plan. “And I trust the judgment of Kimiko.”

She nodded, and all eyes turned to Hughie.

“I, uh, why is everyone-“

“You’re the last fucking vote, Kid.” MM shrugged. “Yay or nay on Edgar, all on you.”

“Do not let the pressure get to your head, petite Hughie.” Frenchie added, and Hughie swallowed. “I am sure neither will kill you if you do not vote their way.”

She might not. She was kind like that. Ben wasn’t.

Hughie must have known that Ben’s glare wasn’t a fucking empty threat, because he mumbled, “It’s, um, probably not worth it. Nay, I guess.”

Ben gave Her a smug grin, I fucking win, and she completely ignored him.

“Edgar’s literally locked up, he’s not a threat right now-“

MM said Her name flatly. “You know just as well as the rest of us that Edgar’s always a fucking threat. You’re still being hunted by Vought, there’s no way it’s worth taking such a goddamn risk for his,” MM pointed a sharp finger at Ben, and didn’t get it snapped off only because they were on the same side of this shit. “Stupid choices. It’s too far a fucking drive, and we can’t know what the hell Edgar’s got waiting for you. You’re outvoted on this. Back down.”

“Technically I’m not, we’re tied-“

“A stalemate is a no.” MM grunted with a shrug. “And we’re not flipping. That’s it.”

She narrowed her eyes, and Ben could hear Her brain moving.

You lost, Sunshine. It happens to all of us, and now you know how I feel all the goddamn time-

I did not lose.

Yes, you did. An don’t say something fucking insane to try and get around it-

Shut the fuck up. “What if Edgar comes to us?” She didn’t even look at Ben’s glower, looking around the table. “Home field advantage, no way for him to set something up.”

“We ain’t lettin that cunt in the house,” Butcher grunted. “I’m still on your side, Love, but we’re on strict fuckin lockdown. Not a chance in bloody hell we’ll convince Mallory to give Edgar a day pass.”

“First of all, this isn’t a house,” She shrugged, finger drumming against Ben’s leg as she frowned. “But we could bring him to a house.”

Hughie blinked. “None of us have a house-“

“But the CIA does,” She grinned. “And it’s fucking impenetrable.”

“Oh, shit.” Hughie’s eyes widened. “The safe house.”

She nodded. “Where Edgar’s family is. He won’t risk Neuman, or Zoe. We can meet him there, no risk, and hear what he wants.”

“That’s,” Annie sighed. “Yeah, okay. I’ll switch my vote.”

She bumped Ben’s shoulder, a smug fucking smirk on her pretty face. Suck on that, Benjamin. Five to three, I win.

He scowled. Brat.

You love it.

He did. And, fuck him, Ben couldn’t figure out a single good argument to flip Annie back. It was a genius fucking idea. It was safe, they’d be giving Edgar extra by letting him see Neuman, and they’d get whatever fucking generosity the pussy had promised them. And when MM and Hughie agreed to Her idea—MM making it clear that it was only on the terms of the safe house he was siding with Her—Ben gave up. She was too fucking smart, and he was too fucking stupidly in love with Her and her happy, pleased smile to keep arguing. Especially not when, as Butcher grunted they’d need four day and everyone started to disperse, Ben had several fucking plans to drag Her home and win his own game. To tease and touch and fuck Her until she was a wet, fucked out mess beneath him, take advantage of how Her heart picked up every time he called her my love, and maybe he’d get Her to squirt again-

“Frenchie?”

Ben blinked at Her nervous voice, and realized it was just them, Frenchie, and Kimiko left in the dining hall. She was leaning over the table, tilting her head at Frenchie as she spoke slow, measured words.

“You, um, you know a little about how my powers work, right? The empathy specifically?”

“I, ah,” Frenchie glanced at Ben with nervous fucking pussy words. “I do, oui. But I am not sure-“

“He knows about the suppressant,” She said with a sigh. “I’m not taking it anymore, by the way, I can give the rest back-“

“Non, they are yours. A gift.” Frenchie frowned. “Why do you bring up your empathy if not for the pills?”

“I have,” She swallowed, glancing up at Ben. “We have a few questions about it.”

Who the fuck is we, Sunshine.

You and I. She shot him a quick glare. He might know what the whole mind reading shit is, Pretty Boy. Don’t be an ass.

Ben rolled his eyes, but turned his glare to Frenchie’s confused face.

“What questions would you like answered, Madame?”

“You said my empathy is my limbic system going beyond my own self.” She frowned. “Right?”

“Oui,” Frenchie nodded, looking Her up and down. “The V, ah, causes you to connect your brain with others. Ties their emotions in with your own.”

Ben didn’t understand what the fuck Frenchie was talking about, but She seemed satisfied with that weird answer, and continued. “But it’s temporary, not a long term bond.”

Frenchie blinked at Her. “It should be. Your brain is still your own, it would be fucking exhausting for you if it was not. Why do you-”

“I think I did something to Ben.” She mumbled, staring at the table, and he scoffed.

Shut the fuck up, Sunshine, it’s not like this is torture for me. Don’t get all fucking sad about it-

But I-

“We can read each other’s damn minds,” Ben said aloud, because She wasn’t allowed to blame herself for this, so he wouldn’t entertain any protests about it. “And you’re going to tell us why.”

“Please.” She added, and Ben rolled his eyes. “And I think it’s something about the empathy because I can feel him. He’s just kind of in me-“

“He does not look to be in you right now-“

Kimiko whacked Frenchie’s arm, and sighed something that made him frown and turn back to Her.

“Are you speaking in metaphor?”

“No, but I’m also not talking about his dick, Frenchie.” She sighed. “I can feel him when he’s not touching me. Or anywhere near me, really. It’s kind of like just a thing in my chest that is Ben. It’s hard to explain, but I know it’s him. And it vanished with the suppressant, so I think it’s related to the empathy.”

Later, Ben would have to ask Her what the fuck she meant by it was him. What he felt like, why She was so goddamn certain of it. But Frenchie was nodding slowly, looking between them, so Ben had to pay attention.

“And you, ah,” Frenchie paused, glancing at Kimiko before turning back to Her. “Can you hear our thoughts?”

“No. And it’s not hearing his thoughts, it’s more selective than that-“

“Selective my balls,” Ben muttered, and She wrinkled her nose at him.

Fuck off, Pretty Boy. We’re still learning how to use it, it’s going to be touch and go. “It is selective, he’s just a dramatic fucking man child.” Ben scowled, but let Her continue. He kind of wanted some damn answers as well. “It’s like we’re talking to each other, but in our heads.”

Kimiko signed something, and She shook her head.

“No, not like the,” She sighed. “Heart eyes. That’s just reading expressions, and I can do it with my family as well. This is like some sort of mental bond, but I don’t know why we have it.”

Frenchie titled his head at Her. “Did it begin after you fucked?”

“Um,” She flushed, heart fluttering. “No. The Ben Thing in me was kind of in and out for a while, then got cemented at the Believe Expo, when we met in the bathroom.”

“And you did not fuck in the bathroom?”

“No-“

“I fingered you,” Ben supplied, and gave Her exasperated glare a wink. “And ate you out.” He glanced at Frenchie. “Does that shit count.”

Frenchie sighed. “It does. Can you, Soldier Boy, feel her?”

Ben frowned. “Fucking once and a while, yeah.”

“Really?” She blinked up at him. “When?”

“When you escaped,” he shrugged. “When you got drunk. When I fucked you-“

“And you didn’t tell me-“

“I only just fucked you, and how the fuck was I supposed to know it was you-“

“I don’t know, I figured it out myself-“

“After fucking months-“

Frenchie coughed, and they both turned to glare at him.

“I, ah, you may continue, but I have a theory for what has happened.”

“Fucking wait-“

She covered Ben’s mouth, and nodded to Frenchie. “What is it?”

“You,” Frenchie nodded at Her, saying Her name carefully. “Have, hypothetically, planted yourself in Soldier Boy.”

Ben dragged Her hand away from him with a firm, careful grip. “What the fuck are you talking about.”

“As her powers have grown, and you two developed a, ah, connection, it may have led to her brain, the V of it, reaching into your brain and not removing itself, even after contact had ended.”

“But that doesn’t explain the mind reading.“ She frowned, and Ben smirked.

You called it mind reading.

Fuck you, Benjamin-

“It is just an idea,” Frenchie shrugged. “But if your empathy felt safe within the environment of Soldier Boy’s body, it might have been capable of tying into him. Making you a physical part of him, perhaps deep enough for thoughts to be traded. And the piece of him within you is the piece of your brain within him, sending you signals of his own mind and body.”

“If it’s my brain putting my empathy in Ben,” She said carefully. “Is it something I have to worry about happening again?”

Frenchie shook his head. “It is very unlikely. Just once is an astronomical fucking shock, and you would have to recreate the exact events for it to even possibly happen again.”

Ben scowled. “The fuck you mean a shock-“

“I mean it is batshit that her literal fucking brain could grow within you. It required much physical contact, a, ah, profound emotional connection, and for your own body to not view her as a parasite and terminate her within you.”

She tilted Her head. “Is it because we have the same V? Like a biological thing?”

“It may have helped,” Frenchie sighed. “But I cannot truly tell without tests.”

Do you want to test it? She glanced up at Ben, scanning his face. I mean, I don’t really think it matters-

It fucking doesn’t. And he is not damn poking us with needles just give us the exact same fucking answer. Ben glared at Frenchie. “Her brain is in me? That's it?”

Frenchie swallowed. “Oui, I imagine so.”

Ben nodded. Got all the shit you want?

I guess. Not much else I can ask. She gave Frenchie a smile. “Thank you, that helps.”

“Would you want any of the tests-“

“Fuck no,” Ben snapped, and started to stand, pulling Her with him. “No science shit.”

She glared at him, and turned back to Frenchie. Ben didn’t actually pay attention what She was saying—probably just fucking goodbyes or some sentimental shit—because he was just staring at Her. He kept staring at Her, as they left the dining hall and returned to their apartment.

She was fucking perfect. He loved Her—he’d never stop saying it, nobody could make him stop fucking saying it—and She was his whole life. She loved him, and now Ben got to give Her everything. They’d kill Homelander, and move to Rome, and get married. He’d fuck Her forever, and care for Her the same way she did for him—staying at his side, defending him with words and plans and faith the same way he defended her with his hands and body and sheer fucking will—and that would be it. She’d be it. She was it. She was a fucking part of Ben, and he’d never fucking lose Her. She loved him, and she was never fucking wrong, and Ben would spend the rest of his life ensuring he was worthy of being central in Her orbit, that he was deserving of being part of Her.

He’d always make sure was worthy of keeping that part of Her in him safe. He’d tend to it and care for Her and love Her, he fucking swore on the world she loved so much, and this was it. They, together, were it.

End Note: They really did not last two weeks before they were fucking and shouting about how much they love each other. Two most unserious people.

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