#and then one day he’s sitting out in the woods. roughed up from a fight and NOT SULKING ABOUT IT | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

writteninkat · 6 months ago

Text

HEADCANON: MHA MEN SPOILING YOU

w/ Bakugou, Kirishima, Todoroki, Hawks, Endeavor

warnings: none just mha men being rich<3

navigation

KATSUKI BAKUGOU

"Hey, where are you?" You hear you husband's rough voice spill through the speakers of your phone, your eyelids shaking at the eyelash extensions being pressed down and glued on your water line.

"Getting my lashes done."

"Anything else planned?" He asks, making you purse your lips in thought.

"My whole day's packed, actually. I already went to my facial appointment. I'm getting my nails and hair done after this. Maybe a little shopping if I have the energy. Oh! I'll probably get a massage too!" You rant, smiling as you imagine the perfect selfcare day.

"Alright. You think you'll have enough energy for dinner after all that?" You giggle and hum, "Uhuh! I always have energy for you baby."

"That's good to hear. Have fun today baby, I love you."

"I love you more."

You hear three beeps and you hear your lashtech giggle.

"Hero Dynamight is portrayed as this scary, rough guy in the media, but he's actually very sweet." She swoons, making your chest swell with pride.

"He is, actually. One time-"

You're cut off by your phone buzzing, followed by your lashtech gasping. Unable to open your eyes, you stretch your arms out. "What? What happened?!"

"Hero Dynamight he..." She gasps.

"He what?!" You yell, your chest caving in as every horrible thought crosses your mind.

Did he get injured during a fight?

How badly is he injured?

Is he...?

"Dammit, Ari! Tell me what's happening!" You demand, about to sit up from the bed.

"He just sent you two million yen..." She breathes out, making you release a sigh.

"Fucking Christ. I thought something happened." You whisper, relaxing back onto the bed. "Did he say why?"

"'Refunding you for you facial appointment. The rest are for your other plans. Call if you need more. I love you baby.'" She read aloud, causing a smile to stretch across your face.

"He's the sweetest." You swoon.

EIJIROU KIRISHIMA

You look around the villa, eyes sparkling and head over the moon at how beautiful it is. The Spanish colonial architecture is beautiful, the ceilings high, the wood floors shiny and waxed, and the arched windows big enough for you to show a tree from the tops of its leaves down to its roots burrowed down the soil.

"It's so pretty, baby!" You giggle, twirling around the foyer of the villa you'll be spending your two weeks in.

Finally, Eijirou was able to grab a two-week break from hero work. The two of you have been busting your asses off, protecting cities and taking down villains.

This time, you made sure your schedules synced when it came to time to making time for each other.

"You like it?" He asks, hugging you from behind.

You turn your head to the side, giving him a kiss on the cheek. "I love it, baby. This'll be the best vacation ever. Just the two of us. Happy and in love." You smile, giggling at his cheeks slowly turning into a crimson colour.

And just as you said, your two-week vacation was a bliss. The both of you drank and ate, made love, swam in the private pool, in the private beach, cuddled during movies, played video games, board games, explored the small town near the villa- everything was perfect.

As you sit on your spot in the hero's private plane, a white folder on the table catches your eye. With curiousity tickling your fingers, you open it, your gaze immediately falling to your husband's familiar signature. Your brows knit as you bring your eyes back up to the top of the document, reading it.

This letter of Intention to Offer is made and effectively by...

Property Address...

Purchaser Address...

Purchaser Contact...

Dear Mr. Kirishima Eijirou...

Please accept this bid purchase to...

For the amount of...

"Eight million euros?!" You scream, clutching on the document.

Eijirou rushes out of the private bedroom inside the jet, his eyes wide with worry as he inspects you. "What's wrong?!" He worries.

"Why the hell did you buy the villa?!" You scream, now your eyes are wide with worry.

"You said you loved it." He shrugs.

Your head pulses with the need to close your eyes. You can feel your blood pressure rising at this stupid, idiotic, irresponsible...sweet, lovely, man.

"Where the hell are you getting eight million euros?" You sigh, finally looking up at the man who foolishly spoils you rotten.

"The same place I was getting eighty million yen for the yacht you wanted..." He looks at you like you're stupid.

"Why the hell did you buy a yacht on top of a villa, Eijirou?"

"You said you wanted the boat!" He exclaims, forcing you to rack your brain for the memory of when you said that.

"I said it was pretty! Not that I wanted it!" You exclaim, your face scrunching up in stress. "Where on earth are you getting your money!"

The red head simply smiles, engulfing you with his strong arms in a warm, tight embrace. "I'm one of the top heros in the world, baby. And I've been in this game for decades now. It's safe to say I've got more money than we both can possibly need." He reasons, his lips pressing against the top of your head.

"Plus, property investments are good!" You roll your eyes at the stupidly sweet man you call your husband, your heart searing as your gaze catches onto another document with the words 'Land Ownership' and your name printed not far from it.

SHOTO TODOROKI

An evil grin stretches across your face as you point at every pretty thing your eyes fall on. You don't break your stride as you enter and exit shops in under a minute.

"That." You point at an adorable bag inside a shelf. "That, too." You point at the one beside it.

"These shoes in my size. These too. Ooo! And these as well." You hand the shoes over to your assistant, letting her pass them over to the store clerk.

You exit the shop, leaving one body guard behind as you enter the store beside it. This one's a gadget store.

"You think it's time to upgrade my devices?" You ask, playing with the showcased device on the table. You turn to your side, eyeing your husband's assistant, seeing tears comically strem down his cheeks.

"Please, madam! You've spent so much already!" He cries, "What on earth did Mr. Todoroki's money ever do to you?"

"It's not his money, it's him in general. He hasn't been spending time with me as of late. I'm getting bored." You pout, nodding at a store clerk before point at different gadgets, one of each kind.

"All those, if you have them in pink, but if not, I'll get them in black. The biggest memory you have, please. Along with accesories. Pink." You order before leaving the store once more, entering another booth selling watches in insane prices.

"Madam, Mr. Todoroki is a pro hero-"

"And I'm not?" You glare at the employee. "I work as much hours as he does. I'm just as demanded, I'm just as busy, and I'm just as tired as he is. And yet, I can always make time for him back at home."

You know you're being a bit too unreasonable. But you've grown bored and lonely. And you'd rather die than take another lover. So Shoto's bank account it is.

"He'd have a heart attack if he saw all the withdrawals." The assistant worries as you ponder over two watches displayed in front of you.

"If my husband suffers from cardiac problems due to my spending, then he shouldn't have taken being a pro hero as a job." You point at the silver and blue Patek Philippe. "This one please." You tell the sales woman who smiles at you as she nods softly.

You check your own watch to see you've been at it for hours now. Almost time for dinner.

Maybe I should pay my busy husband a visit.

You roll your eyes.

You stretch your arms up above you, letting out a yawn as your muscles finally relax.

Your last stop is a five star restaurant right beside the mall.

Shoto scribbles on a few papers, hating how he's been leaving his wife alone for multiple nights. Knowing her, she'll have his ass if this goes on for too long.

He sighs, stretching his up above him, feeling his back crack. His head pulses and the need to see his wife waves over him in strong currents.

Right as he's about to resume his paper work, his phone buzzes in a call, his financial advisor's name flashing the screen.

Shoto answers the call with one hand, the other elegantly scribbling on the paper. "What is it?"

"Sir, I think your card's been stolen. There have been numerous deductions, all huge amounts." Shoto furrows his brows, taking his wallet out from his pocket. Sure enough, his black Master is missing.

A tickling feeling grows in his gut. "From which shops?"

He hears a few clicks from the other line, "These are all luxury brands. Miu Miu? Coach? LV, Prada, Bottega Veneta, Chanel, Dior, Philippe Patek- The thief may be a woman, sir."

"You're right. A woman. My woman." Shoto sighs, chuckling softly. "How much did my wife spend?"

"A little over two hundred million yen." Shoto can hear the wince in his advisor's tone, making him grin.

Sure, his wife's a kickass pro hero, and she makes just as much money as he does. But nothing compares to her spending ability with the cute little side talent of not touching her own bank account.

Just as he's about to give out an order, said wife enters his office without knocking, a familiar paper bag in her hands.

"Brought you dinner from that favorite restaurant of yours." She lifts the bag, striding over to him.

"She seems to have been having a little tantrum because I haven't been giving her the attention she deserves." He smirks at her, "Run it through."

"You talk shit about me to your employees?" The love of his life pouts as he chuckles deeply, standing from his seat. He places his hands on his wife's hips, softly pulling her towards him, giving her lips a gentle peck.

"Never. I was just explaining to them why I lost millions of yen in a day." His joke earns him a playful glare from his wife.

KEIGO TAKAMI

You complained to Keigo once. Once. That you were tired.

It was six am that morning when you woke up like you hadn't slept at all. You didn't have muscle sores or a headache nor were you sick. You were simply tired.

By nine am, the pro hero had written you a sick leave, carried you onto his private jet, and the both of you were now flying over beautiful blue waters.

"Keigo-" He cuts you off by shushing you, lifting a finger up in the air. He pulls you towards the private room located at the back of the jet where a massage table has been set up, along with ambient spa music and a masseus in the corner with her hands clasped together and her head bowed down. The room smelled of peppermint and lavender.

"We'll land in twelve hours. You can request anything else after the massage." You don't get a chance to respond because he leaves the room, closing the door gently.

You and the masseus look at each other before she lets out an amused chuckle. "He seems to spoil you so."

You sigh, "He overdoes it, but I know he means well."

Eleven hours later, you've gotten a mani pedi, a simple and refreshing facial, your muscles are relaxed, you've eaten two square meals, and had the longest nap of your life.

Now you're seated in front of your husband, sipping your champagne in your soft, fluffy robe as he reads his magazine.

"Keigo, will you finally tell me where you're taking me?" You sigh, watching him look at you through his golden eye lashes. He smirks, setting his magazine down as he pulls the window cover up.

You squint at the sudden brightness but your eyes quickly adjust. You blink a few times, moving towards the window, taking a peek.

"You took me to Greece?!" You exclaim, seeing the familiar white walls and blue roofs.

"My baby said she was tired." He mused, "And we can't have that."

You open your mouth in protest, but a sound cuts before you. "Mr. and Mrs. Takami, we'll be landing shortly. Please return to your seats and fasten your seat belts, thank you."

You glare at your husband one last time before buckling up, letting out an annoyed huff as you keep your eyes on the window.

"Jesus..." You breath out, craning your head up to look at the domed ceiling. Your gaze drags down, moving from side to side as you inspect the large arched windows and marbled floors.

Keigo weaps his arms from behind you, breathing in your scent. "You know you didn't have to fly me anywhere. That spa day was exactly what I needed. I could've gotten it back in Japan."

"Yeah," Keigo squints, softly pushing you towards the glass double doors leading to the balcony. "But you wouldn't have been able to enjoy this view afterwards."

The scene of the vast blue ocean with the sun slowly dipping down is breath taking. Accompanied by the soft glow of yellowish lights, the chirping of a few birds here and there, and the smell of the ocean has you claiming this place to be paradise.

"I love it..." I mumbled, captivated by the beauty of the sunset.

"More than me?"

You turn your head to the side, pressing your lips softly on your husband's cheek. "No, never more than you, my love."

Keigo smiles, pressing a soft peck on your lips before slowly letting his arms fall, his hand delicately holding your hand.

"Come with me." He tugs you back inside, leading you up the grand marble staircase and inside what looks like the master bedroom.

"Close your eyes." He whispers in your ear and you immediately follow his order. Slowly leading you somewhere, you hear a soft click of a door. "Open."

You blink once, twice, before your jaw drops to the floor. You're right outside a huge walk in closet, and inside is one of the biggest boquet of elden roses formed into a heart. Surrounding it are paper bags with different kinds of designer brands printed on them. Behind the boquet is a round marble table with different boxes of leather, some kept closed and some open, revealing shiny watches and jewelry, ranging from silver, gold, and white gold.

"Keigo..." You breathe out, taking a careful step inside before turning around to face your husband. Your eyes feel like they're about to bulge out of their sockets and your haw about to fall off.

"Not now." You shakes his head, quickly stopping you as if he knows what you're about to do. "Pick an outfit and we'll leave in an hour." He presses a light kiss on your forehead before leaving you alone with your gifts.

Feeling as though you've been spoiled rotten, you take your time going through your numerous gifts, deciding to wear every dress you come across, but quickly change your mind when you find another one.

Your husband may be a pro hero, but his true talent is picking out beautiful dresses for you.

You decide on a wine red silk dress, revealing your back, pairing it with strappy silver heels, a diamond encrusted choker, and diamond earings that hang right below your chin. You make up is a simple smokey eye with a bold dark red lip. Your hair curled and pinned up into a bun, the front swept to the side.

You step out of the room and onto the top of the staircase, looking down to see Keigo already in a suit and waiting. He looks up, eyes sparkling when they settle on you. Your heart bursts of affection- he always does this. Whether you dress to the highs or like a beggar, he looks at you like you're the most beautiful thing he's ever laid his eyes on.

Feeling your cheeks flush, you slowly climb down the steps, your husband meeting you at the bottom. He drinks you up slowly, his chest rising before shakily lowering back.

"Beautiful..." He whispers, soft fingers caressing your cheek.

"Thank you." You kiss his open palm, leaving a lipstick stain. "What are we having for dinner?"

Keigo's eyes are stuck on you lipstick stain and you watch his throat swallow. "May I have you instead?" He asks, his eyes filled with heat, making you chuckle.

"No, you may not, because I'm hungry for some real food." You cup his cheek for a moment before stepping to the side, making your way to the waiting car in the driveway.

He takes you to a restaurant that serves an array of european dishes. Not long after, you have a food baby and are tipsy on what you claim to be the best wine you've ever drank.

By the time you finish, you decide to take a little walk around the small town. His suit jacket hangs on your shoulders with your clasped together.

You try to hold it in, but the searing pain from your feet makes you hiss and wobble. Keigo immediately catches you, "What's wrong?"

You sigh, looking up at him with a pout. "My feet hurt. Heels are too high."

Keigo smirks before getting down on one knee.

"We're already married." Your reminder earns you a hearty laugh from him.

"I'm trying to undo your shoes, dummy."

"Oh."

He swiftly undoes the clasps of your heels, taking the pair. Before you take another step forward, he scoops you in his arms, your immediately wrapping themselves around his neck.

"Keigo?"

"Hold on tight, love." He whispers.

You get a second to process what he means by that before his wings stretch out, pushing the both of you off the ground.

"Keigo!" You scream, tightly clutching onto him as he laughs loudly.

"Shouldn't you be used to this by now?" He yells through the air.

"I'm full and I'm drunk! You're gonna make me throw up!" You yell.

He simply laughs, his arms holding you possessively onto his chest. "Not yet, my love."

You look up at him questioningly before finding the courage to look down, enraptured by the beauty of the city below you. Before you know it, you catch a glimpse of the shoreline before dark blue waters meet your gaze.

"If you drown me, you'll be the worst husband ever." You frown, receiving a snicker from Keigo.

"Don't worry, love. We're almost there." At his words, you look infront of you, noting how the angry waters eventually grow calm until finally, they're as still as mirrors. Scratch that, they're exactly like mirrors.

The stars twinkle and shine brightly above you, as well as below you. It's as if you're in outer space. The sight around you is exquisit, bewitching, alluring, captivating—it's divine. You see millions upon million of stars all around you. Tears fill the corners of your eyes at the tantalizing scene.

Keigo looks at you and you feel him slowly lower you, right above the water. "Lower your feet for me." His request has you immediately dropping your feet.

He hovers the both of you just above the water, only your tippy toes grazes the top of the water, creating a circular ripple effect, making the stars in its reflection dance.

"Beautiful..." You gasp, charmed by the sight.

"Not as much as you." Keigo mutters, pressing a soft kiss on your forehead. "I love you."

"I love you more."

"Love?" You call out.

He hums in response, the silence relaxing.

"How much did you spend just today?"

You feel your husband freeze at your question. It's incredible how Keigo's spending problem only occurs when you're involved.

"You want me to sugarcoat it or-"

"Give it to me straight."

"A little over a hundred yen..."

You look up at him, unamused. "Keep lying."

"A hundred... Thousand?" He offers, averting his gaze.

"You take me for an idiot?"

Keigo sighs, burying his nose on the top of your head. "Million."

You huff out an irritated breath before melting back onto your husband. He's lavish when it comes to you, but it's one of the few ways he likes to show you off.

ENJI TODOROKI

Your heart pitter-patters on your chest as you squeeze your gold clutch tightly. You're nervous- and it's justifiable. You've had the fattest crush on your boss ever since you were hired as his secretary, and when he was invited to an auction with the choice to invite a plus one, he chose you. Warranted, you are his secretary, so he may need some assistance.

Stop being delusional. This is your job. Be professional.

But your flaming cheeks aren't listening to your brain. Your dress feels too tight, and your skin feels like it's been lit on fire but the cold breeze of the night cools it down.

I'm gonna end up sick.

Just as you're calming yourself down, you see a black sedan stop right in front of your lawn. You quickly make your way towards the car, opening the door only to be greeted by a strong scent of expensive perfume with a hint of musk. Your eyes immediately fall onto the one man you can't have.

He's tapping away at his phone and you can't stop the wave of disappointment engulfing you. You wanted to see his reaction to the dress you picked out.

Stop it, he has a family for Christ's sake!

You silently hop on. As soon as you close your door, the car speeds off.

"This auction is also a masquerade." He mentions, pushing a black eye mask towards you. Despite being black, it sparkles under low light.

Black glitters.

Did he find out the kind of dress you were gonna wear? The masks suits it perfectly.

As you inspect the mask, you steal a glance at him to see he's still on his phone. Rejection clenches at the stupid muscle in your chest, but you try your hardest to ignore it. You put on your mask, softly tying the black ribbon at the back of your head to keep it on.

A few minutes of silent torture passes by until bright lights finally engulf the car. "We're here, sir." The driver announces.

Endeavor taps away at his phone for a few more moments before pocketing it, letting out a tired sigh. Both passenger doors are opened and a young man in a simple black and white suit offers you his hand. As soon as you're about to take it, a bigger, much rougher hand pushes it away.

"I'll help my date down myself. Thanks." Endeavor's voice is rough and deep, but that isn't what makes you gawk at him.

"Date?" You repeat his word, making him look at you. The blue eyes under his red mask brighten when his gaze finally drops on you.

He looks at you from your mask down to your toes, and back up. He does so slowly, that even after you've placed your hand on his, he doesn't budge. Doesn't make a peep. The only thing moving is his eyes drinking you in slowly. And the movement of his throat as he swallows.

Welcome to another episode of: I'm not delusional! I swear my boss thinks I'm hot aswell!

Finally, Endeavor clears his throat. He steps to the side, allowing you to hop off the car. The cameras' flashes increase when the paparazzi notice that Pro Hero Endeavor has brought a date.

"Endeavor! Who's your date??"

"Is she someone special?"

"Is your date being paid?"

The both of you walk through the red carpet as questions are being yelled at.

"Your family back home will see you've brought a date! How do you think they'll feel?"

Your head snaps at the direction of the voice, your eyes scanning the crowd for a moment before they finally settle on a bald guy. You slip your hand from Endeavor's, striding towards the nosy fuck before quickly grabbing the lense of his camera. Your crush it in one easy squeeze, silence falling among everybody else.

"You're here to take pictures. You already know you aren't getting answers from us, so why set yourselves up for failure?" You glare across the crowd of people, making sure your words aren't directed towards baldy alone. "Snap your pictures, send them to your employers, and shut the fuck up."

Your eyes return to baldy once more, noting the sheer sweat forming all over his head. "Send the bill over to Endeavor's secretary, she'll take care of it." You tell him before flicking the bits of camera you have on your hand.

Returning to Endeavor, you hook your arm on his, and continue walking, waving and smiling for the cameras as if you aren't anxious about what you just did.

Did I do good?

Is he upset I did that?

He hasn't said anything.

Fuck, I won't have a job tomorrow. Great job, self! You've just lost an incredibly high-paying job that allows you to be close with the love of your life.

The big double doors open, revealing a dimly lit opera house. A lot of people are already inside, all of them in full glamour.

"You didn't have to do that." Endeavor finally speaks up, making you swallow nervously.

"Yeah well, I didn't like how he asked that question. As if you're doing something wrong..." Your voice is soft and unsure as you keep your gaze on the carpeted floor. You've settled on allowing your boss to lead you towards your seats.

"Don't you think what I'm doing is wrong?"

His wuestion has you snapping your neck at him, your eyes wide with worry. Does he think that?

"You're divorced, aren't you? And- and they don't know who I am. I don't think this is bad publicity at all." You defend, watching as he side eyes you.

"Anything with me is bad publicity." He mumbles, warm irritation bubbling in your chest as you clench your fist closed.

"Stop that." You demand, finally arriving at your seats.

"Stop what?" His questions goes unanswered for a few moments as you take in the private booth at the top floor. It's only the two of you here, with a button in the middle. Probably for when the client wants to bid.

"Stop putting yourself down. Yes, you've made mistakes. Big ones. Huge ones. But it isn't late for you to change and make up for it all." You look up at him with wide, genuine eyes. "You already admitted your mistakes. All that's left now is to try your damnest to make up for it, to make it up to all the people you've wronged. But you gotta do it with a genuine heart and pure intentions."

Endeavor looks at you with wide eyes, his blue orbs like the color of the sea during the peak of summer. You hold his gaze for a second,

two seconds

three-

The lights dim, grabbing you attention to the stage below.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen."

The first few items were boring, so you don't blame Endeavor for not making a bid. A few paintings and tables presented here and there, maybe a couple properties. You feel your eyelids growing heavy until a necklace is presented under the spotlight.

The blue saphire stones completely surround the neckline, and a big red ruby stands out dead center. It looks heavy and too extravagant to wear anywhere you'd go. But it reminds you of your big, quiet boss.

"It's beautiful." You gasp, unable to look away from the piece.

"Up next, we have an exquisite piece that will undoubtedly ignite a bidding war: a mesmerizing blue sapphire rose, intricately crafted with petals that glisten like the ocean depths. At the heart of this stunning bloom rests a fiery red ruby pendant, its vibrant hue creating a captivating contrast. This one-of-a-kind piece combines the tranquility of sapphire with the passionate allure of ruby, set in the finest platinum. A true masterpiece of luxury and elegance, perfect for any discerning collector." The host's voice echoes throught the room.

"Ladies and gentlemen, who will start the bidding for this unparalleled gem at eight million yen?" Immediately, you hear buttons being pressed, with the host yelling out numerous numbers.

"Eight million yen to bidder number twenty-seven!"

"Ten million yen to bidder number forty!"

"Eleven million yen to bidder number thirty-five!"

The price goes higher and higher, making you dizzy. You snap out of your lightheaded state when you see your boss press his button.

"Fifty million yen." He mutters to the microphone, making your heart drop.

Who's he giving that to?

Is there a woman in his life I don't know about?

Maybe it's an apology gift to his wife.

No, he wouldn't be that cheap about it.

"Fifty million yen to bidder number fourteen! Does anybody wish to go higher?" The room is dead silent. "Fifty million going once," Still, nobody makes a peep. "Fifty million going twice." Nada. "Sold! To bidder number fourteen at fifty million yen!"

"I can't believe you just did that." You breathe out, in the brink of a panic at the thought of losing fifty mil in a night.

Endeavor keeps his eyes up front, making you mirror his actions. You feel squirmish in your seat.

The next few items are as boring as the first ones, until your eyes catch a red fur coat on a mannequin. It's as red as Endeavor's hair, and it looks softer than the softest fur in the world.

"Prepare yourselves, esteemed bidders, for a truly unparalleled offering: a one-of-a-kind crimson fur coat. This extraordinary garment exudes opulence and sophistication, crafted from the finest fur of the Crimson Frost Lynx, a legendary creature said to roam the forests of the North." Your brows furrow at the statement.

Aren't those Lynxes extinct?

"Its rich, deep crimson hue is unlike anything you’ve seen, making a bold and timeless statement. Lined with luxurious silk, this coat is not just a piece of clothing but a work of art. Perfect for the most discerning fashion aficionado, it promises to turn heads and capture hearts. Let's open the bidding for this exclusive masterpiece at twelve million yen. Who will claim this ultimate symbol of luxury?" As the announcer ends, only a few buttons are pressed this time.

"Twelve million yen to bidder number thirty-eight! Does anybody wish to go higher?"

"Fifteen million yen to bidder number twenty!"

Once again, Endeavor presses his button, mumbling "Twenty million."

"Twenty million yen to bidder number fourteen!" As the house quiets, the announcer scans the crowd. "Twenty million yen going once' Twenty million yen going twice!"

A soft buzz sounds, your head snapping to its direction. It came from the booth right beside you.

"Twenty five million yen to bidder number fifteen!"

Endeavor presses his button once more, mumbling a headache-inducing "Thirty million."

"Thirty million yen to bidder number fourteen! Thirty million going once! Thirty million going twice! Sold! To bidder number fourteen!" The confusion is written across your face as you turn to your boss.

"A necklace, and now a furcoat? Sir if you wanna crossdress-"

He holds a finger up, effectively silencing you. You bite on your lower lip, huffing when you hear a knock to your right. The both of you turn to the sound.

"Who are those gifts for, Endeavor? Got a new lady friend?"

Hawks.

"Mind your own business." Endeavor grits out before returning his gaze to the stage.

You can't help but feel anxious about the other Hero's question.

Who are the gifts for?

Whenever her eyes twinkle, I can't help but press the button. It's like a magnet and my finger's made of metal. My eyes have been shifting to her everytime a new item is shown, and everytime I get a reaction of awe, my button is immediately pressed.

My secretary should be off-limits. If I were to ever make a move on her, it'd be as obvious as the sun and the backlash would be unforgiving. But my want for her seems to outweigh reason.

Fuck tha backlash. This woman is meant for me.

I can see it in the way she sees me.

When the auction ends, I offer my hand to her once again and we make our way to different offices meant for different bidders. Privacy is their utmost importance here, so I don't have to worry about other people looking at my woman.

"Good evening, Mr. Todoroki. This is your billing for tonight." The man hands a sheet of paper to Endeavor and you take a peek at it.

Two necklaces, a bracelet, a ring, a set of earrings, two more fur coats, a vase, and three porcelein statues of cats.

"Five-" Your eyes nearly bulge out of your sockets. "Five hundred million yen?! Sir, please excuse me, but you do not shit out money." You chastise, your brows knitting in worry.

"Stop yelling, I'm right beside you." Your boss huffs, pulling out a check. He scribbles the amount on it before his signature, sliding it towards the man behind the counter.

"Let's go, I'm tired." Endeavor turns around, walking towards the door. You run after him, struggling in your heels but eventually reach him.

"Oh! Mr. Todoroki! Shall we deliver the goods to your office or your home?" The man calls out.

Your boss stops in his tracks, craning his head to you.

"My assistant will write down her address for you. Deliver it there."

Your jaw falls, it's like your brain has disconnected from your body. "What? No! Just get it delivered to whoever you were gifting them to!"

Endeavor raises a brow, tilting his head to the side. "That's exactly what I'm doing." He says it as if you were an idiot.

"You- I'm sorry?"

"Apology accepted. Make sure you wear that necklace tomorrow night." He pushes the door open, walking down the marbled floors of the foyer.

"What's happening tomorrow night?" You ask, out of breath as you continue to struggle in your heels.

"We're going on a date."

And your heart does a backflip, lifting a middle finger up to the world. Fuck you all! I told you I wasn't delusional!

[click here to read endeavor having his way with you in the private booth]

1K notes · View notes

bunnycvnts · 9 months ago

Text

new bf! rafe that is slowly, very very slowly, getting used to having a girlfriend that cares about him !!

*+:｡.｡　　｡.｡:+*

rafe was having a particularly rough day with ward screaming at him to be a better man and running out of gas three blocks from tannyhill, so when you came over that night, his attitude was at an all-time high.

every little thing was ticking him off. from the way his collared shirt was sitting against his skin to the crickets chirping outside, and to the way the tv was far too loud considering how close you were sitting. he was overstimulated, annoyed, and really just needed a fucking break.

when you got up to get a glass of water and your heels clacked against the wood floor, he sort of lost it. “can you- seriously? take the fucking shoes off.”

you paused at the entrance of the living room, your eyebrows furrowing as you turned around slowly to look at your boyfriend. “what?” you weren’t upset; you were just thoroughly confused about his outburst. you’d been together for three months now and had seen your fair share of him being dramatic or moody, but it was rarely ever pointed towards you.

“the heels, they’re driving me fucking nuts, clicking and clacking through the house, and the tv?” he paused to gesture angrily at the screen, “why is it so fucking loud? you’re sitting like six feet away from it.”

your teeth sunk into your lower lip, quickly slipping off your heels and heading back towards rafe, your feet now padding lightly against the floor, almost silently. “is everything okay?” the remote sat in your hand as you spoke, muting the tv effectively. you eyed him cautiously, now noticing the way his hands were fidgeting and his knee wouldnt stop bouncing.

his face scrunched. “yes, everything’s okay; that shits just mad annoying, babe. it’s giving me a fuckin’ headache.” your hand reached out to rub his arm soothingly.

“i’m sorry, i didn’t know. how about we go to your room? it’ll be quieter, and you can change out of your clothes from today. i can go home too if you’d prefer. it’s okay.” your words were chosen carefully, bordering on demanding, and you tried to refrain from any tone that sounded condescending. it was easy to spot that he was overstimulated, and you only wanted to help.

“ye-yeah, yeah. let’s go to my room. don’t leave; why would you leave? i told you everything’s fine.” he didn’t know why you were acting this way, and it made his stomach feel weird. you guided him by his hand up the stairs and to his bedroom, speaking quietly as you went.

“i just know you need a minute, baby. that’s all. know you need some peace and quiet. maybe a nap. will help you feel better, promise.” he paused on the stairs at your words, but your hand tugged at his, making him regain movement.

once you both reached his bedroom, you pulled out some gym shorts and a loose t shirt for him to change into, shoving them into his hands. “here, put these on!” you smiled up at him before moving to his bedside table, where he kept matches. lighting one, you held it to a candle you had bought him a few weeks ago. he had noted how great the scent was but felt it was too girly for him to buy a candle— and he wasn’t girly. so, you took it upon yourself to buy it, and the trimmed wick and melted down wax covering the sides didn’t go unnoticed.

rafe changed quickly and leaned against the wall to watch you. the way you moved so efficiently and effortlessly through his room made his heart beat a little faster. you didn’t have to ask where he kept leisure clothes or the matches. you didn’t think twice before pulling the blanket up from the made bed and fluffing the pillows for him. you didn’t even need him to tell you that he hated sleeping with the top sheet, as you knowingly kept it tucked into the mattress. just watching you made his headache lessen, and he didn’t fight when you pulled him off the wall and helped him get situated in his bed.

“do you want some water or medicine?” his head shook at your question, denying it. all he felt like he needed was you. no one had ever paid so much attention to him or knew what made him feel better or worse. no one had taken the time or given the effort to care so lovingly for him. so when you sat on the edge of the bed, your hand running through his hair gently, all he could do was open his arms to gesture you closer. the blonde shuffled even closer to you, resting his head on your stomach, so you could continue massaging his head and playing with his hair.

“nah, just my girl.”

*+:｡.｡　　｡.｡:+*

ok this is my first writing post pls be nice

taglist: @sunkissedrafe

3K notes · View notes

pinescent-and-gingerbread · 4 months ago

Text

✧ All the graces from Heaven

✦ Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader ✦ Summary: Arthur and you enjoy a steamy morning at Strawberry's Hotel, much to the outlaw's delight. ✦ Warnings: SMUT 18+, MDNI! Oral (both reader and Arthur receiving), 69, a bit of fluff if you squint, porn without a plot, Arthur is more of a high/mid honor but loses it and gets a little bit rough, established relationship. ✦ Words: 2,6k ✦ a/n: Yeeeaah so. This is basically a 69 fic, it's pretty filthy and a bit less figurative than my usual works. Just pure smutty smut. I hope you'll enjoy it still! Pic is mine, not proofread! And as English isn't my first language, prepare for some misspellings.

The bedroom of Strawberry’s Hotel is filled with chuckles, and full of scattered clothes on the floor. Leathered boots, two shirts tangled together, jackets and holster belts thrown away messily on furniture. As a lighthouse in the middle of the sea, a black gambler hat stands tall hung on one of the bed's huge footboard legs over this tide of abandoned clothing.

Above it, the old wood creaks as two people mess with each other under the blankets, threatening to make the worn hat fall from its perch. Both are nude as the day they were born, and glued to each other as if they were wearing the other one’s skin.

You and Arthur had quite a time, last night. And since you had woken up, it was nothing but sweet words, cuddling and tickling. Teasing each other had become a private religion between you both, his sarcastic comments always met with a witty answer from you. It made him love you even more.

“Come on darlin’, stay.” Arthur’s deep voice asks you, as he buries his head in the crook of your neck, his nose impregnating with your smell, eyes closing on their own.

He feels good, there. It's in these simple shared moments, those laughs you sew together, those fingers and body you intertwine, those deep and dreamy conversations about your brighter future you share that Arthur finds his remedy. As if after all this life of surviving and fighting for a greater cause, a bigger picture, it was the simplest of things that appeared like an epiphany to him when it came to happiness.

You being the main source and Messiah of most of these humble pleasures, of course. His personal angel.

“You know I can’t. You may have the morning off for once, but I have somewhere else to be. Hosea needs me at the Tracker’s Hotel for a job.”

Arthur doesn’t hide his annoyance and grumbles against your skin, something about “Damn jobs always in the way” and “ The old man can wait a lil’ bit more.”

It makes you smile. As tempting as staying in bed all morning with a naked Arthur seems, especially considering how you can feel his fat cock feeling so soft against your hip, you feel self-conscious about leaving Hosea alone on your mission. You turn your head to the side to kiss your lover’s head, his sandy locks tickling your nose.

“Alright tough guy, time to go.” You decide before getting up in a sitting position, then crawling to the end of the bed to grab your ungarments.

“Not so fast, lil’ missy.” He objects with a low chuckle, obviously enjoying this little chase after you.

Before you can reach your aim, Arthur snakes his hands around your thighs and pulls you back to him in a quick and powerful motion, handling you as if you were the lightest feather, which makes you let out a squeal of protest mixed with surprise.

His laugh resonates for a second and then, he freezes. You had ended up on all four on top of him, but usually, your face was turned to his. This time, Arthur's nose is met with your plump rear, your chest to the other side, just above his crotch. You can feel his body, underneath you, getting tensed. This gigantic, massive, muscled body, so big and tall that his chest feels larger than a tree trunk between your spread legs. What was innocent playing for him just seconds ago had turned into a needy tension between the both of you. The air suddenly feels thick and a silence settles, a tense calm on the shore before a Maelstrom.

Your blouse and Hosea are a long time gone when you realize you can feel his breath on your pussy, the sensation making you shiver. You try to get up from the position, thinking he wouldn’t like to have his face shoved in your intimate parts, but his hands grip tighter and stop you, grounding you in place. You turn your head to him as much as you can considering your situation, taking an interrogative look at his face above your body.

His cheeks are red. Dark red. His eyes are fixated on your entrance, throat swallowing with difficulty. His bust rises and falls heavily, pectorals muscles swelling up before relaxing and rising again. He sighs, and you feel it again, hot air all against you, all against your now aroused and needy slit.

“We hum… We never tried like this…” He starts, voice low and suggestive about what he's implying, his hands traveling from your thighs to grab your ass, one hand for each cheek. They’re so big and firm, and feel so good there, as he squeezes, again and again, driving himself crazy as he admires how the perfect heart shape of your rear looks all squished under his fingers.

“You sure you want-”

Before you can even finish your sentence, Arthur answers it by pressing his lips to your pussy, exhaling through his nose and tightening his fingers on your flesh. This man always had such huge self-control for every dangerous situation known to mankind, but right now, it seems like he couldn’t resist taking a bite when having your perfect cunt under his nose…

A sharp and depraved noise leaves you, making his body burn like redden coal, his mind consumed more and more by your whole being and the simple feeling of your wetness all against his face. His whole universe reduced into this touch, lips against flesh, saliva mixing with arousal. Your sinful nectar and his.

“God, honey!” You whine, back arching without your permission, body moving backward to him, searching for more, needing more.

“Taste so goddamn good… Never gonna have enough of ‘this…” He rasps between a few more kisses to your folds, as a praise or a statement, you’re not sure, and he’s not either as words just flow through him and he lets them out without a drop of restraint or reflection. A rough, unstoppable river. That's how he feels every time he eats you out.

His tongue slowly slips out of his filthy mouth and licks your folds, slowly, tortuously, from bellow aaaall the way up to the inside of your ass. You could have been scared of not being clean enough for him or feeling nervous about his face almost buried in there, but the sound, the moan he had made suppresses all these anxious thoughts all at once.

You have to face the obvious: he’s loving it.

“Aah- Arthur…” Your hips roll against his face, desperate for some more friction, unsatisfied and so aroused by his teasing.

“You go on moanin’ ma name like that and am gonna come without ya even touchin’ me, darlin’.” He warns you, voice hoarse, lips mumbling against your folds, his beard and mustache tickling you just the right way.

You answer his words with a deep sigh, the filth of them burning you to the core. He laps at you the same way again, in one then two long and slow licks, as if savoring you like the finest whiskey he would have tasted. A mewl leaves your lips after each one of them. You’re starting to get impatient, and he knows it, he knows you after all those intimate moments. He stops his lips right at the entrance of your core and gently slides his right hand between your thighs.

The way he has to fold his arm to touch you there isn’t comfortable for him, his bicep being way too big to be crushed like that; but hearing you, feeling your thighs clenching and the appreciative words you let out when his fingers land on your sensitive bud is worth this slight pain. Always putting other’s needs before his own, always being devoted and loyal, always finding happiness in being useful, that was Arthur’s nature. And the bed was no exception to it.

“Was you not supposed to go somewhere?” He asks cockily in a falsely innocent tone, brimming with sarcasm and smugness.

“P-please, Arthur… Quit the teasing, for God's sake…” You ask, trying not to sound too pitiful, probably failing at it.

“A lil’ needy after all, ain’t ya? Ma sweet girl…” He coos, and you can feel his lips stretch into his usual grin, his heart gorging with pride and excitement to have this sort of impact on you.

Bending to your wishes, his fingers start to rub and trace tight circles on your clit as his mouth makes love to your pussy, his tongue delving in as deeply as he can, and the pleasure finally hits you like an earthquake. It feels so good, so damn good, your breathing quickly turning into loud moans.

Your head snaps back forward, and your body pushes your rear up all against him as a cat who would stretch after a nap. Arthur hums in delight and appreciation, unable to speak but encouraging you still. He increases his pace, his digits quick and sharp and so precise against your sensitive spot.

Your face falls down as every fiber of your body hardens, and that’s when your gaze is caught on his cock. Your pussy clenches hard around his tongue just by the sight of it.

It looks so hard and swollen that it must be painful for him. His hips buck forward into nothing, his member almost hitting your chin, with every lick of his tongue inside you. His round and reddish tip is leaking, pre-cum spurting out even more than usual, flowing all the way down into his dark curly pubic hair. His pants would have been completely soaked if he was wearing them.

You're salivating.

It would have been cruel to let him like this, right?

Focusing on him to try and not collapse from your own pleasure, you suddenly press your chest against his belly and take his cock inside your mouth without any warning. The taste of him, this strong saline flavor, fills your mouth.

“Damn!” Arthur shouts in surprise, momentarily parting his lips from yours, fingers slowing their pace. “Jesus, girl!”

This time, it’s your turn to grin, as much as you can, considering how big Arthur is between your lips. You don’t let him any time to think or protest, knowing he would insist that you’d come first.

The way you're crawling on top of him makes it even simpler for you to suck him off, your head naturally placed at the right angle on top of his crotch, and you take advantage of that. Finding support on the mattress with your arms, hands gripping his legs, you bring your mouth up and down hard and fast, sucking his shaft with such vigor you can feel his body squirming underneath you.

“Ngh-! Darlin’! S-stop, slow down! I ain’t gonna last like this!” He tries to plead but his words are drowned in a flood of groans and harsh sighs.

Despite what he’s saying, his body acts in the exact opposite way, hips jerking, cock shoving into your throat at the same time you’re working him. He tries, he really tries to keep on pleasuring you back while you work him, but he feels like he’s completely losing himself, unable to do anything else, to focus on anything else at all.

Your breasts pressed against his belly, his face buried in your pussy and ass, each of your thighs surrounding his head, and your goddamn mouth around his cock, this devilish tongue sliding all around it… He's completely losing his head. It's like being drowned in an Ocean of You. It’s too much. It’s way too much at once for a simple man. A simple, weak, mortal man feeling like he’s receiving every grace of Heaven all at the same time.

His basic instincts win the best of him. His arms are now wrapped around you, pulling you flush against his body, a hand back on your ass cheek, the other on your neck, spurring you into moving your mouth just like he needs to.

“Oh, shit! Yes, go on, go on, take it!”

You've rarely seen him losing his temper like this. He's usually gentle and soft, patient with you during sex, savoring the moment, making it last as much as possible, playing you like an Andante movement from the most sophisticated piece of a symphony.

Right now, he's unchained and rough, rushing to the Grand Finale without minding about false notes, drunk from you and the sensation of warmth he is feeling on every edge of his body; face, chest, cock, every inch of him merging with every inch of you.

He groans all against your pussy, as your saliva drools from this erratic pace. His fingers grip your head and ass tighter as he chases his high carelessly, already coming, way too soon and fast for him. His cock stiffens even more as he fucks your silky mouth, veins gorging with blood, tip throbbing in the back of your head.

“Aaah- Damn… Good… Girl!” He growls loudly with a thrust of his hips after each word.

The last one is followed by a loud and throaty whine, higher-pitched and vulgar, the kind of sounds he would usually let out when being hurt.

He shuts his eyes in a pleasured-filled frown as he pushes his face even deeper between your legs and, more from instinct than anything else, sucks hard on your cunt while he comes, lost, so lost in a sea of primal bliss and pure organic pleasure. His large body burns and tenses one hard final time, and you can feel the path of his cum traveling along his length against your lips as he releases inside you.

It fills you, his saline and strong taste blinding your other senses, cum as hot and sinful as his state, and you exhale with satisfaction as you swallow both this remnant of his ecstasy and the last drops of his sanity.

Arthur falls back heavily on the mattress, completely spent, his sweat staining the white sheets, his hands loosening their grip. Before removing them from your body, he allows himself a playful little spank on your butt as he speaks again, a revenge not strong enough to his liking for your sneaky move.

“Jesus, you’re… completely wild...” He sighs, his heart slowing after having beaten like war drums.

He’s still panting, mouth open and covered with a mix of this sweet cocktail of saliva and arousal. He licks his lips, feeling so satisfied, the sensation of your body everywhere on his skin still vivid and present. Like a stamp of black, indelible ink that has left its mark on a blank sheet of paper.

“You really enjoyed all this, didn’t you?” You ask back while getting off him, legs a bit shaky, your throat starting to feel a bit sore from the intensity you had chosen to go with. “I haven’t heard you whine like this for a long time…”

“I don’t “whine”.” He scoffs, knowing damn well he did, and suddenly feeling ashamed of the sounds he had made and guilty for the rough behavior he had displayed. His negative feelings are soon brushed off though, thanks to your beautiful and mischievous smile enlightening him.

“Yeah yeah, keep telling yourself that. I’ve still got ears to hear, Mister.”

“Hush. Now come here, 'gonna make ya feel as good and miserable as me from finishin’ that fast.”

His eyes burn with that fire he has. The one reserved for you and the excitement and adrenaline of action. You already know there's no way you'll walk out of this bedroom without being completely satisfied.

“Tonight. I’m already way too late to-”

“Now.”

The piece of clothes remains abandoned on the floor as the bed creaks again, that old gambler's hat only witness of Arthur's payback to you.

After all, he never liked leaving a job unfinished.

tagging some people who were interested in the scenario! : @amyispxnk @a-court-of-valkyries @fleouris

#pinefic #rdr2 arthur #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan x you

726 notes · View notes

sashi-ya · 1 year ago

Text

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ 𝑾𝑨𝑹𝑹𝑰𝑶𝑹𝑺 𝑶𝑭 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑺𝑼𝑵ㅤㅤ january free requestsㅤ ㅤ trafalgar law x f! reader

🕊️ request: @leftladyluminary ⋆｡˚ Hello ( ^ω^ ) I was wondering if I could request a Law x fem!reader exploring a temple together that turns out to be a uh “procreation” temple the strongly affects those who enter? Please and thank you~ （╹◡╹）♡ 🕊️ tw: mdni. raw, rough sex. vaginal. nipple play. pregnancy ideas implied. cream pie. wc: 1650 🕊️ masterlist

Zou is a humid place, very muddy as well. Your boots are dirty, and your clothing soaking wet. Those “Eruption Rains” become pretty inconvenient throughout the day, but they are necessary.

“I shouldn’t have worn a white shirt…” you tell Law, crossing your arms over your breasts.

“I would say you shouldn’t have worn it without a bra, (Name)-ya” Law says, squeezing and twisting his hat to drain it from the excess of water.

You sit down on a rock. Was it really necessary to say such thing? At best he should be a little bit happy to see your body through semi see through fabrics. What Law has just said felt painful to you, to say the least.

“You are right, I’m sorry” you mumble, walking away to find a proper place to hide and change your clothes. You are sure the ones in your backpack are as wet as your current ones, but something darker will do to cover up.

When the rivers formed in what are usually trails on top of Zuneesha’s back are finally dried, you find a very interesting construction ahead. Curious, as always, you come closer to discover it is a shrine.

“What a beautiful place” you comment in awe. Law seems to be anywhere else. He is probably near, but not close to you.

Curious, you put a step inside the shrine. It isn’t necessarily different from the rest of the temples you have attended in this long journey of piracy. However, somehow in the aura feels unusual to you.

The scent of incense smells more flowery, sweet, maybe even a little bit spicy. The Vitreaux windows create incredible depictions of Orchids on the ground, as the sun filters its rains through them. And the altar has a very distinctive little statue that calls for your hand to touch.

“I wonder what’s this shrine about? What god is meant to be built for? In fact, do Minks have gods?” you ask yourself, making mental notes to ask Wanda once you are back from your expedition.

Your eyes scan the golden sculpture, it looks like two creatures tangled into each other. You would lie if you said you didn’t think of them having sex, and in fact you giggle for your “witty” thoughts.

There isn’t much to discover besides what you have just seen, but a little sign engraved in an old piece of wood.

“you shall keep your blood flowing; the warriors of the Sun must never disappear; they will fight for freedom and unity during this dark night”

You smile; and immediately after reading you remember Luffy. Even Law recognizes he is as shiny as the Sun itself. You don’t really think much of the true meaning of the sign, and soon after find Law looking at you from the very entrance.

“I turned around and you were gone, I didn’t know where you were” he asks, still soaking wet like a cat left out in the rain and looking a little bit mad at you for disappearing.

You could have picked a fight; you probably could have just brushed it off. But neither of those were your reaction, and unconsciously you lift your arms to stretch. The white shirt, still soaking wet, kept the transparency and with that the show off of your hard nipples presented to Law in its full beauty.

“I’m sorry, I was looking for a place to change” you tell him, with a rather sexy tone.

Law’s sun burnt cheeks turn red, golden eyes widening, pupils getting bigger. The little hints of black eyeliner smudge on his already dark tinted under eyes, the juicy pale lips of your captain slowly separating.

“You thought of changing on a shrine? Getting naked on a temple, (Name)-ya?” he asks, coming closer to you as he lets his yellow bag fall on the floor. Law walks like a snow leopard, slowly, menacing, sexily…

You swallow. That’s not his usual self, not at least with you. He looks like he is about to fight you, or even hurt you.

“L-Law, I wanted to put on a shirt over this one so that my breasts won-“ you shut up, as he strikes you and pins you against the altar.

You put your arms back to get a grip of something as you lose balance. Your hand reaches something cold and tiny and immediately after, his warm inked hand falls on top of yours.

Both, at the same time, touch the little statue behind and it feels like a new energy begins to run through your veins. It doesn’t take you long to finally succumb into a lustful, inappropriate kiss. His hands, all over your waist, lift the wet shirt that’s begun to get hot and too heavy on your skin.

“I have no idea what force is making me do this, but believe me I am not mad about it, (Name)-ya” Law whispers, in between panting and with his lips grazing yours.

“I have no idea either, but don’t you dare stop…”

The Surgeon of Death attacks your lips once again, this time while freeing you completely from your wet coverings… even if, something else in you was getting wetter by the moment.

Maybe it was the force of doing something so incorrect, so unholy on a sacred place… or maybe it was your love? Or even, both? Who knows, perhaps it was something else but the more you kiss, the more your bodies slide down until your back hits the red carpet covered floor.

Law’s tattooed hands squeeze and play with your breasts, almost like a beast ready to engulf his prey. “You wanted me to do this, don’t you?” he asks, reaching for one of your hard nipples, kissing the erected surface and then trapping it with his lips.

“Honestly, yes. I missed your touch…” you moan, realizing you are finally able to indulge in sex. It’s been long enough since you could touch each other, since you could be this intimate.

“I know, I’m sorry…” he whispers, planting a soft kiss on your chest.

You know there is nothing to forgive, and immediately after you notice his stitched arm holding the weight of his body on top of you.

“Law… can I be on top this time?” you ask, kissing the scar of his biceps.

His golden eyes shine brightly, apparently he loved the question and nods energetically, even if he felt embarrassed seconds after for doing so.

Soon, you take his place, undressing him faster and straddling your hips on his lap. He is hard, and the grey underwear completely soaked let nothing to the imagination. Deliciously tempting, you feel the impulse to your use your mouth before anything else, but the need of having him inside you is stronger… something invisible is making you desire his seed would fill your womb on and on and on.

You lift your ass from his lap, just a little for your hand to pass through your moved to the side panties and his hardness.

Law gasps when he understands you are not there to waist time on any other type of pleasure that his dick deep inside you.

“Now? but I don’t- I don’t have prot-“ he stutters, fighting in between the need of fucking you rough and reproduction health matters.

“You don’t really need it, I want you raw and rough in me…” you purr, guiding his sex towards your dripping entrance.

Your labia devours his tip, engulfing it with a warm slippery sensation. Law’s neck muscles tense, his head gets thrown back, a moan escapes his lips that resonates all over the shrine.

You do the same as you let yourself fall on top of him for his shaft to be finally entirely inside you. A whine so loud that mixes with his, and it becomes never ending as you start to hump on top of him.

Your hips move up and down, back, and forth and also in circles. Law’s fingers carve marks on the side of your hips and sometimes travel to the small of your back to press you against him with divine force. His hips, who up until now where immobile as pleasure struck him harder than he could ever expected, begin to move too.

“Nggh… let me fuck you faster…” he moans, using all of his strength coming from his core to impale you harder and synchronized to the rhythm of your jumps. The sound of wet sweaty skin slapping against the other become a sacred melody all around, while your nails carve marks as you grip from his heart tattooed pecs.

It doesn’t take you longer for your climaxes to arrive, and while your fingers intertwined with Law’s, your spasming walls milk him so violently… so needy, desperate for his release…

His frown intensifies, he even bites his lower lip but his eyes never shut as his pupils only fix into yours. As if his gaze was trying to anticipate something both knew, willingly to do whatever it takes to make his seed plant on you… deep, inside, of you.

“Fill me up…” “Keep it all inside…”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ...

“Wanda, may I ask you something?” you tap on her soft furry shoulder.

“Yes, honey. Tell me, what is it? Are you ok? You look very tired” the mink says, curious and perhaps a little worried about your state… truth Law wasn’t satisfied with just one round.

“So, I found a Shrine on the forest. It had a little statue; I didn’t get exactly what it was representing. But I remember reading a sign that said something about the warriors of the sun should prevail” you explain.

Wanda giggles. “Well, now I know why you are that tired… you went there with Trafalgar, didn’t you? it’s the procreation shrine, ruled by the sun lovers. That’s where we go to pray when we wanna bear children.. it said to be special forces that help us get pregnant”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ“Oh…”

2K notes · View notes

carlsangel · 6 months ago

Text

CAUGHT

carl grimes x fem!reader

(you wouldn’t believe who catches you and carl.)

tags: smut, oral sex (r!receiving)

masterlist here!

You liked to believe that you and Carl were quite smart. You both were great survivors, you ended up surviving years and years of the undead constantly up your ass. You thought you could get away with basically anything, even being intimate in places you shouldn’t be. Unfortunately that wasn’t the case. In fact the two of you were so blind to how sneaky you weren’t.

It’s not like you didn’t try…although it seemed like you didn’t but that’s beside the point. A lot of the time if you two ended up fucking in places you shouldn’t, you weren’t seen but there was a couple occurrences when you almost were. Your streak of times almost being embarrassed was sort of an inside joke at this point, you both found it funny.

You were both invited to a run, just so you could help and be there to collect parts. Your goal was to get to the old radio station and find everything you need to fix Alexandria’s radio so you could communicate with the other communities. Quite an easy task. The group you’d both be going with is Rosita, Eugene, and Aaron. Pretty simple, you should be perfectly fine. Eugene was only going to collect the proper parts for the radio, not to fight.

You and Carl walked up to the gates to leave hand in hand. This morning for Carl was…quite a rough one to say the least. He woke up rather needy and the two of you were running late so there was unfortunately no time for the two of you to fix his issue. He was toughing it out, however. Or was trying at least.

Once approaching the truck you’d be taking, your first observation was how large it was, even on the inside. Aaron had just brought it back a couple days ago and you hadn’t had a chance to see it yet. It was one of those kinda of trucks you couldn’t imagine affording back when cars had payments n shit.

“Alright let’s get going.” Aaron unlocked the car and everyone piled in. You got in the backseat first and to your surprise, Eugene barged his way in to sit between you and Carl. Your eyebrows furrow a bit in confusion. “I refuse to be sittin next to a couple who might latch at the mouth any minute.” Eugene explains flatly. Carl looks at him with an odd look as he buckled his seatbelt. “We wouldn’t do that. But okay.” You retort. After Rosita was buckled she turned to look back at you. “Yes you would.”

The rest of the car ride was pretty quiet from the both of you, Carl had his hat on his lap and stared outside the window the whole time which presumably meant he was thinking. Eugene and Rosita conversed a while and you occasionally chimed in. Their little arguments were rather amusing, Rosita tended to have quite harsh comebacks while Eugene focused on outsmarting her.

Before you and the group had arrived at the radio station, you all went over the plan. You and Carl would keep watch on the outside while the other three go in so they can leave as quick as possible while still being efficient. So when you arrived, it seemed somewhat like a breeze. They had entered the building and you knew they’d be in there for a while..maybe thirty, forty five minutes? Like stated previously��you guys weren’t too smart when it came to practicality.

“I don’t think this is a great idea, there’s a good chance they’ll finish fast.” You explain to Carl. “Okay then I’ll make you finish fast.” He rebuttals. You sort of cringe at his joke and he opens the car door for you to get in the back. It was a lot more spacious with just the two of you in there, it was quite nice and Carl felt comfortable getting started right away. You laid back and tugged your shorts down with no warning; also, with the current situation you were both in, he felt there was no time for foreplay.

He pulled your underwear to the side and immediately dove into your heat with his tongue, causing your head to fall back onto the door of the car in pleasure. It was parked closer to the woods, far from the building so you didn’t think there’d be an issue being seen…right? Anyway, his lips wrapped around your clit, he started to suck quite sloppily but he wasn’t quite focused on doing it perfectly. “Oh that’s perfect.” You tell him, your hand going to his head to keep him where you want him. He flattened his tongue against your pussy moving his head up and down, side to side to reach every spot he could. He was practically panting like a dog. Your eyes roll back into your head and you’re grinning largely.

You noticed something was shaking the car a little so you lift your head back up and open your eyes, noticing his arm moving. Meanwhile he stiffened his tongue, prodding it into your hole. You were quite overwhelmed to say the least. “Are you…” Your voice trailed off breathlessly and he glanced up at you, his arm seemingly moving quicker. He was jerking off. You didn’t even notice him unbuckle his jeans.

“Don’t worry about it.” He said between small laps at your clit, a small smile forming on his face. All of a sudden everything seemed more intense, you were close, being loud as ever and he began moaning against you as well. It was everything you could ask for.

“Oh good god-” You hear in a muffled tone, you notice that the voice is in fact coming from outside of the car, behind your door. You open your eyes and Carl stops everything, you see his eyes go wide as he looks out at the window behind you. There’s a shadow from the outside of the car displaying a figure to the inside. You see quite a familiar mullet. You push yourself up and look behind you.

Eugene.

Soon enough you’re both fully dressed and sat up in the car just glaring at Eugene outside completely embarrassed.

You were caught, there was no way you could explain this to him any differently than what he saw. Eugene was frozen, it was like someone had stopped time and he was just stood there terrified. You weren’t sure on what sort of approach to take and Carl was still rock hard so he was focused more on how to stop feeling uncomfortable. You’re trying your hardest to adjust your clothing. “What the hell, Eugene? Shouldn’t you be inside?” You scold him as if you weren’t in the wrong, even though he did interrupt your time.

“They found a room full of walkers and they started spillin out…” He explained, his tone somewhat embarrassed. “So you fucking ran?” Your response is sharp and mean, causing him to flinch a little. “Yes. They have it handled. They’re capable of takin care of the next rooms perfectly fine.” He replied obviously. You sigh and shield your face with your hands. “This is so fucking embarrassing.” You turn to Carl and he was zoned out but he looks at you silently and nods. “Just took me by surprise that’s all.” Eugene chimes in. “That’s a very natural activity for-”

You were all interrupted once again by Rosita this time, calling for Eugene. “Eugene what the hell are you doing? Get in here.” She shouts from the building. He turns to nod at you guys before walking back while Rosita waited at the entrance for him. You fully turn your body to turn to Carl and you let your head fall to his shoulder.

“Yeah there goes our streak.”

a/n: hey guys! i’m feeling a bit better so here’s a smut fic :) i’m gonna get the rest of the match ups out soon although this is quite a busy week for me ill still be working on them! i love u guys bye!

tag list: @zomb-1-egutzz @lunarnightt @ilikestrawberriesandwomen @hiro--aoki @h00d-tr4sh @callsignwidow

#carl grimes #the walking dead #twd #carl grimes twd #carl grimes fanfiction #carl grimes fluff #carl grimes x reader #carl grimes x fem!reader #carl grimes x y/n #carl grimes the walking dead #carl grimes smut #carl grimes angst #the walking dead carl #twd carl #twd smut #twd fanfiction #twd x y/n #twd x you #twd x reader

503 notes · View notes

tateypots · 1 month ago

Text

4 Weeks

18+ MDNI

Pairing: dark!Tommy x reader, dark!Joel x reader

A/N: Part 3 of the Collared series, same warnings as usual. It’s dark so please heed the warnings if it’s not for you.

Word count: 2.4k

Summary: It’s been 4 weeks since Joel and Tommy took you.

Warnings: Non-Con, dark Joel, dark Tommy, kidnapping, fingering, daddy kink, uncle kink, unprotected piv, creampie, restraints.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

4 weeks. It’s been 4 weeks since you woke up naked and chained to a bed in a strange cabin. 4 weeks since you cried and pleaded with Joel as he explained your new situation, since he told you that you would be safe, fed, taken care of and all that was expected in return was for you to spread your legs for Daddy Joel and Uncle Tommy. 4 weeks since you begged him to let you go, told him through broken sobs that you didn’t want this, that you were a virgin. 4 weeks since he told you he’d already taken care of that for you. 4 weeks since he crawled on top of you the first time that wasn’t really the first time, just the first one you could remember.

4 weeks of exquisite torture. 4 weeks of your body betraying your mind and exploding with pleasure every time you were fucked against your will by men twice your age. The first few times you had fought; punched and kicked and scratched at them to no avail. They were bigger than you, stronger, but they were never rough with you, never lost their tempers. Never beat you into submission. They just let you fight until you tired yourself out and gave in, or took hold of your wrists in their huge hands and held you firmly but carefully until they were done, praise dripping from their lips as they defiled you. They made sure you came on their cocks before bursting inside you, groaning out their satisfaction deep and loud.

You gave up the fighting pretty quickly, realising how futile it was but you still cried every time. They didn’t appear to pay it any mind, didn’t let your tears get in the way of their pleasure.

They at least kept their word. You were fed three meals a day. At first you had refused to eat anything but you’d experienced real hunger since the outbreak, never knowing where your next meal might come from, going days and days with nothing but water and you couldn’t willingly inflict that on yourself for long. And as Joel had told you one day after removing a hardly touched plate of bread and cheese, “you need to eat darlin’, need to keep your strength up. We’ll take our payment for it either way.”

Within the 4 weeks you’d been here you’d settled into an uneasy routine. Breakfast was usually served right after your morning fuck with Tommy. He liked to fuck you in the morning. Really he just liked to fuck you before Joel stretched you out. Tommy’s cock was big but Joel’s was obscene. You often wondered how it managed to all fit inside of you without splitting you in two.

Along with breakfast you were given your birth control pill. That you had never objected to, once they had explained what it was. The last thing you wanted was to get pregnant.

After breakfast they’d head out to do their chores and jobs around the cabin. You could hear them, sometimes even see them through the window by your bed. You’d be left alone until lunch time, they’d come in sweaty and dirty, feed you, fuck you and head back out until dinner time. After dinner they’d sit and talk while you lay huddled in your corner, trying to pretend you were anywhere else unless one or the other decided to take you one last time before bed.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Tommy was inside you now. He’d wandered into the main room shortly after daybreak and gently shaken you awake before telling you how he wanted you; “hands and knees princess,” before manhandling you into position, wasting no time in pushing his morning wood into you. He always fucked you hard and fast, careful to stay on the pleasurable side of rough. Tears streamed down your face, your sobs mingling with the uncontrollable moans that his impressive cock drew from you as it moved in and out of your overworked pussy. His hands gipped your hips as your bodies connected over and over again, the tainted pleasure taking over every other feeling, allowing you a brief window of respite from the confusion, anger and fear.

As Joel emerged from his bedroom, hair mussed and wiping sleep from his eyes, Tommy pulled you up to him, snaking an arm up over your torso to wrap lightly around your neck, not squeezing, just holding you in place, his hips never losing their pace. “Say good morning to Daddy princess,” he commanded before placing a soft little kiss right under your ear, “show him how good you’re being for Uncle Tommy.”

“G-good morning,” even in your fucked out state you refused to apply the monikers they had bestowed upon themselves. Tommy’s other hand left your hip and began rubbing little circles on your swollen clit, drawing a wail from you as your hips bucked of their own accord.

“Good morning baby,” Joel replied, pouring himself a cup of coffee as he watched his brother fuck you senseless, “how is she this mornin’?” Joel asked, this time directing his words at Tommy.

“Fuckin’ perfect. This little pussy is always so tight in the mornin’. Treatin’ my dick real nice.”

He increased the pressure on your clit as his hand slipped from your throat to grab at your tit, pinching your nipple until it hardened for him, simultaneously sucking a mark into your neck. The overwhelming sensations he was forcing onto you drove you full force into a powerful orgasm that ripped through your body, your pussy leaking and convulsing around him.

“Oh fuck there she is! Fuck I love it when she does that, little cunt’s chokin’ my cock, goddamn!” Unable to contain himself in the wake of your orgasm Tommy rammed himself as deep as he could go, gripping onto you tightly to hold you still and erupted inside you, painting your walls white with a loud grunt.

He gently lowered you both onto the bed, still inside you. You sniffled and took a shaky breath as Tommy pulled out of you, unable to stop the tears falling. He placed soft kisses to your neck and jaw as he stroked your arms in an attempt to sooth you. You hated this, the cloying affection they lavished on you when they were done using you. Hated how much you craved it. Hated how good it felt to be wrapped in the strong arms of your abusers, adding another layer to the guilt and self-loathing you felt for the way your body reacted to being violated.

“Did so good for me princess, such a good girl. M’ proud of you.”

He knelt up on the bed and pried your legs apart, eyeing his creamy load seeping out of you as Joel brought over a damp cloth and handed it to him. As Tommy began cleaning you up Joel braced his hands on the mattress and leant over you to give you a kiss. Before he could connect you turned your head and his lips brushed gently over your cheek. This was another routine you had fallen into. Joel trying to kiss you several times a day, each time you denied him your lips. You refused to give him your first kiss. If he wanted it he’d have to take it like he’d taken everything else. You knew he could, you just hadn’t quite worked out why he hadn’t yet.

“There we are, good as new,” Tommy declared as he got off the bed, gave himself a quick wipe with the cloth and sauntered over to dump it into the hamper. Joel slid his arms under you and picked you up, carrying you to the table bridal style, your chain clinking behind you. He gently deposited you on one of the chairs at the dining table before placing a bowl of granola topped with dried fruit in front of you along with your little pill and a glass of water. They sat as well, eating their own breakfasts and divvying up the days tasks.

Breakfast done and dishes washed they disappeared to get dressed for the day before heading out into the cold to tend to the animals and mend fences and cut wood for the fire. With nothing else to do you lay down and fell back asleep.

You awoke a few hours later as the mattress dipped, Joel sliding onto the bed behind you and nuzzling into your shoulder, spooning himself around you. “Hey there sleeping beauty, you have a nice nap?”

“Yes.” He was already naked. And hard. You could feel his erection prodding your lower back. You tried to ignore how good his warm skin felt against yours.

“Lets get you ready for me baby,” he said as he lifted your leg over his meaty thigh and slid his hand down over your slit, dipping his thumb inside you slightly and using the remnants of your slick and Tommy’s cum as lubricant to rub little circles on your clit. Sparks of pleasure radiated out from your little bundle of nerves as he continued to play with it, drawing out a whimper from you.

“That’s it, good girl. Don’ fight it, just let it happen,” he encouraged you, leaving a trail of kisses across your shoulder. His thumb stayed steady on your clit as he slid a finger inside you, pumping it in and out.

“Still so tight after all the times we’ve fucked you. But she opens up so nice with some encouragement don’ she?” He slipped another thick finger into you and you couldn’t contain the moan that escaped. You tried to distract yourself, to think of anything other than how good this felt but he increased his pace and added a third thick finger, hooking them now against that spongy spot again and again and your resistance disintegrated, you clenched hard around his fingers as you cried out, grabbing onto his arm to ground yourself as the waves of pleasure threatened to wash away what was left of your sanity. It was only after the waves had receded that you realised what had happened. You’d never willingly touched them before other than to punch and scratch at them in the early days. And you still hadn’t moved your hand. As you panted through your recovery, he slid his arm through your grip until your hand was in his and he lifted it to his mouth and gave it a soft kiss.

The tears started then. Not out of fear for what was about to happen but because you were so ashamed of yourself. For how that small instinctual act during a mindless moment felt like you had conceded something to him.

“On your back baby, spread your legs.”

You closed your eyes. You couldn’t look at him right now, you were too close to breaking, to surrendering to him completely, you were so tired of fighting against yourself. You rolled onto your back and spread your legs, bent at the knee, just how he liked. You felt him position himself between your thighs, his big hands resting on your knees as he admired you.

His hands slid down your thighs, up over your hips and belly to cup your breasts.

“Fuck, this body. This tight little body all for Daddy to play with. You’re so fuckin’ beautiful baby,” he growled out as he groped you and lay his body over yours. One of his hands slid back down your body to take himself in hand and guide his throbbing cock to your entrance. He slowly started pushing in and your breath caught in your throat at the stretch.

Inch by inch he eased himself inside you until he was half way sheathed. He retracted slightly and gave your earlobe a sharp nip with his teeth, the pain and shock momentarily distracting you from him ramming himself forward, bottoming out with a grunted “fuck!”

You cried out in surprise, gripping the sheets so hard your knuckles turned white. He’d never done that before, always working himself in slowly until he was fully sheathed. As the shock dissipated you realised he hadn’t yet started moving, allowing you to assess the damage. You were surprised to find the sting was already starting to fade into pleasure and your breathing began to settle. No permanent damage it seemed.

He started rocking into you, small retractions of his hips before pushing back in, retreating further and further each time until he was pulling out almost to the tip before reclaiming your pussy, letting you feel his full and impressive length each time. His pace and intensity started to increase as he huffed and moaned on top of you, while you fought with your body once again, fruitlessly trying to keep your arousal at bay.

“Fuck, you feel so fuckin’ good. Daddy loves your sweet little pussy baby, loves how she stretches around this big cock, oh Jesus.”

His head was buried in the crook of your neck, sucking and nipping at the tender flesh, leaving mark after mark as his cock pounded relentlessly into you. You were losing the battle with your body, electric pleasure bursting through you with every thrust into you, moans dripped from your lips unchecked as you entered that dreamy state of weightlessness, where everything was forgotten except the rapture radiating from your core.

“That’s it baby, oh yeah, come on give it to me, give Daddy what he wants. Ugh, come on my cock baby, come for Daddy.”

And you did. His words the ignition to the explosion that had been building within you. Your back arched off the bed as you screamed out in bliss, your pussy clenching as you gushed around him, triggering his own climax as he slammed into you a final time and came deep inside of you with a howl.

He slumped on top of you as you both returned to Earth, breathless and shaking. He pushed himself up onto his arms, his cock still lodged inside of you. He gazed at you for a few moments before leaning forward, you closed your eyes and turned your head, still denying him the prize of your lips.

The sound of the refrigerator closing snapped you back to reality and your eyes popped open. In the intensity of your fucking, neither you nor Joel had noticed Tommy coming back inside. You watched as he placed plates with sandwiches on the table before announcing, “lunch is ready.”

@aurorawritestoescape

#dark!joel miller #dark!tommy miller #pedro pascal #gabriel luna #joel miller x reader #smut #tommy miller x reader

227 notes · View notes

badkitty3000 · 16 days ago

Text

Coming Down Your Chimney

A Five Hargreeves x Female Reader Christmas Smut Request

Hey, I had an idea and I was wondering if you could write something about it? Five and y/n are married, they want to have their own children and that's why they're doing it like rabbits. Five plays Santa Claus for Diego and Lila's children, and then he fucks Y/n while wearing the costume. Y/n becomes pregnant, a Christmas miracle

Thank you, anon, I had a lot of fun writing this! Merry Christmas to all the Five fans out there! 😘🎄☂️

Warnings: Smut, mild breeding kink, Santa kink?, corny sexual innuendos, no use of y/n

The kitchen floor was a disaster as you glanced to the side, eyeing up the spilled wine and dried pasta that had been flung off the counter minutes earlier. It would be a bitch to clean up, especially with the red wine seeping slowly into the wood. You should really mop it up sooner than later to avoid any staining. As you were thinking this, your body was pulled roughly forward as Five slammed his hips against you. Your arms were splayed out to the side, your palms leaving streaks on the marble countertop as you braced yourself against another pounding.

One minute you had been calmly preparing dinner together, and the next you were both hungry for something much more than linguine. Just one look from him; that one that made your pulse race and your panties wet, and you were both frantically ripping each other’s clothes off.

It was already the second time that day, but it didn’t matter. It could have been the tenth and you’d still be dying for him. You had been married a year but that hadn’t slowed either of you down. After Five told you he wanted to start a family with you, and you immediately agreed, the two of you had been going at it constantly. Unfortunately, it had been months and still no luck.

“Five…” you gasped out. “The wine.”

“Fuck the wine,” he hissed before gripping your thighs tighter. “You’re not going to be able to drink it after I finish with you anyway.”

Your breathy laugh turned into a moan when his cock rammed into you again. “Oh shhhhit…Five, I love you.”

“I love you too, sweetheart. Now shut up so I can put a damn baby in you.”

With another hard slam, Five was bottoming out inside of you as your fingers squeaked across the slick marble again; the lower half of your body held firmly in his grasp with your legs wrapped around him.

“Don’t…don’t come yet,” you begged through gritted teeth.

Five’s frustrated growl was low in his throat as he slowed his pace. Grabbing your hand off the counter by your wrist, he shoved it between your legs. With his hand covering yours, he worked your fingers against your clit, pressing hard and insistently. When you let out a loud cry and thrust your hips up, he smirked.

“You like that?”

You nodded with another high-pitched moan. “Yes…keep…oh fuck…” you couldn’t finish your sentence because Five had started driving into you harder, all while keeping his and your fingers pressed against your engorged clit; the rhythm of his fucking creating a pulsing sensation that made you bite your lip and close your eyes.

With one last, rough thrust, Five had you crying out while your orgasm washed over you and he emptied himself inside of you at the same time. With his hips stuttering against you, he made sure every last drop of cum was being pumped out. After he was finished, he kept you in the same position, not pulling out just yet. You made a move to sit up before he gently pressed you back down by your shoulder.

“Just one more minute, darling,” he said breathlessly. “We want to make sure we give my guys a fighting chance to get up there.”

You laughed. “Five, maybe you missed out on sex ed when you were a kid, but they will find their way up there no matter what, I promise.”

He shook his head with a smile. “I’m not taking any chances. I have a good feeling about this particular gang.”

After a few more seconds, you started squirming around. “Five, my back hurts, can I get up now?”

Five let your legs go and he took a step back, pulling out in the process. He gave you a hand to pull you up and helped you get down from the counter. He was still panting hard, his chest covered with a thin sheen of sweat and his dark hair a mess on top of his head. Strands of it flopped over one eye and stuck to his forehead as he smiled at you with pride.

“Good game,” he said with a swift smack to your ass that had a little more force to it than was necessary.

You jumped and rubbed at the spot with your hand, frowning. “Ow.”

But Five was already walking towards the refrigerator while you admired his tight, toned ass on the way.

“What are you doing?” you asked, turning the heat off on the stove since the water for your abandoned dinner was about to boil over. You looked around for your panties and sighed when you saw they were lying in a puddle of Bordeaux. “Damn it,” you muttered.

When you looked up again, Five was standing in front of the open fridge, downing a bottle of orange Gatorade without taking a breath. As you watched in awe, he loudly gulped down the last swallow, stuck the cap back on the now empty bottle, and chucked it over his shoulder where it bounced off the wall and clunked to the floor.

“Electrolytes,” he said as a way of explanation when he saw your confusion. “Gotta keep hydrated.”

“For what?”

Five pushed his damp hair off his forehead, the sight of his flexed tricep drawing your attention. “According to my spreadsheets, this is prime baby making time.” He stretched and pulled his arms across his chest like he was gearing up for a marathon. “Plus, I’m on a roll now, so I don’t want to lose momentum,” he further explained while doing a few side bends.

“Ok wow, naked lunges…that’s…something you don’t see everyday.”

“Gotta limber up. Don’t pretend you’re not turned on.”

You laughed. “Shouldn’t we eat dinner first?”

You let out a yelp when he blinked directly in front of you, grabbing your ass with both hands and grinding his already growing crotch against you. He shook his head with a devious smirk. “Fuck first. Food later.”

Then you were whisked off in another zap of blue to the bedroom.

**************************************

It was December, and getting close to Christmas when you walked in on Five having a heated conversation with someone over the phone.

“No. No way. Absolutely not. Forget it.” Pause. “Because it’s stupid, that’s why!” Pause. “You cannot use my niece against me like that.” Pause. “I don’t care if you think I owe you a favor after kneeing you in the nuts when we were eleven! Pause. “Look, the answer is no. End of story. Not happening.”

When you gave him a questioning look, he turned away from you. Just to be nosey, you leaned in, trying to eavesdrop on the conversation. On the other end of the line, you heard Diego’s voice.

“Come on, don’t be an asshole,” Diego barked.

“Me an asshole?!” Five retorted in disbelief. “They’re your damn kids, why can’t you do it yourself? Or ask any one of our other idiot siblings?”

There was an exasperated sigh from Diego. “Like I said before…I need to be there or else it’s going to look suspicious. Luther is too big and dumb, Klaus would flake out and forget, and Viktor is like the size of an elf. So, that leaves you. Not to mention you’re the only one that can blink inside and pull off the whole ‘magical mystique’ part of it. Come on, Five…please?”

“Fuck,” Five groaned, running a hand down his face. “You do realize I’m not exactly built for this role, right?”

Diego laughed. “Yeah, I know, you’re a skinny little shit, but the suit comes with padding.”

“No! No padding. I don’t need to look like even more of a dumbass than I’m already going to.”

“So, you’ll do it?”

Finally understanding what was going on, you yelled into the phone, startling Five who hadn’t known you were listening from behind. “Five would love to play Santa for the kids, Diego! Tell Lila to bring the suit by and I’ll make sure he’s all dressed and ready on time for Christmas Eve!”

“What the fuck?” Five said to you, his eyebrows creased together in that way that always made you laugh. “Thanks a lot.”

You grinned as he hung up the phone. “You know you were going to do it anyway. I was just moving the process along.”

“I’m going to look like an asshole,” he grumbled.

“Well, Five, you are an asshole, so it fits,” you giggled before planting a kiss onto his mouth that was set in a straight line of annoyance. “But you are my adorable asshole who will look very sexy in a Santa suit.”

**********************************

When Christmas Eve arrived, Five tried to back out of the deal.

“No way…this isn’t happening…I told you,” he insisted while you just looked at him with your hands on your hips.

“Five, come on. You’re doing this and that’s that. Diego and Lila are already expecting you and you can’t let them down.

“I don’t care,” he protested weakly.

You gave him a soft kiss. “Five Hargreeves, you can pretend you’re a hard ass all you want, but we both know you are as soft as a teddy bear when it comes to those kids.” You shoved the Santa hat in his hands. “Which is one of the many, many reasons I love you.”

“You know, you’re very cute but you’re a giant pain in the ass.”

You nodded. “I’m aware. No go on, go get changed.”

Parked outside of Diego and Lila’s house, Five continued to sulk. When you glanced over at him in the passenger seat, you let out a loud laugh. He was glowering in his usual fashion whenever things weren’t going his way, but all while wearing a red-velvet Santa suit, complete with fake beard and hat with a little white puff on the end.

“Five…are you the Grinch or Santa? Come on, you can’t be that ornery, you’re supposed to be jolly.”

He looked at you with what you assumed was a scowl, but was hidden under the white polyester beard. “I am not, nor will I ever be, jolly.”

You sighed, starting to get fed up with his attitude. “Stop acting like this is going to kill you. Just shut the fuck up, blink inside, and try to be a decent Santa. Otherwise you’re going to have one disappointed niece, a very angry brother, and a wife that will not be going anywhere near your North pole later tonight, if you catch my drift.”

His frown deepened. “That’s not fair.”

With a shrug, you opened the car door and stepped out. “Don’t forget the bag!” you reminded him as you closed the door and headed for the house.

You had texted Diego on the way so he, Lila, and the kids were already gathered in the living room. When you walked inside, Grace ran to you and hugged you around your waist.

“You’re here!” The little girl peeked behind you. “Where’s Uncle Five?”

“Oh, he was busy, he couldn’t make it. He said to tell you hello and that he’ll see you tomorrow at the family Christmas party.”

“Oh ok,” Grace said, obviously disappointed. Then a smile returned to her face. “Guess what? We’re going to a parade later. My dad said we’re all going to freeze our freaking asses off, but my mom told him to stop being a baby and man up.”

With a laugh, you looked at Lila, who was busy holding a squirming toddler. “Well, you are being a big baby, Diego,” she said to her husband.

“I’m not being a baby and we are going to freeze our asses off,” Diego grumbled while carrying the other twin on his hip.

Just then, there was a blue flash of light and Five appeared in front of the fireplace, with his costume on and the bag of presents that you had made him bring slung over his shoulder. You could tell he was still not happy, but he looked a little less grumpy than he had been in the car.

Grace shrieked. “Santa!”

“Wow…it is Santa!” Diego said excitedly before giving Five a stern look. “Hey, Santa…don’t you usually say ‘Ho ho ho’?”

You watched with a smile as Five’s eyebrows scrunched together.

“Ho. Ho. Ho,” he deadpanned.

Being six years old, Grace was immune to her dad’s or her uncle’s sarcasm and she ran to Five, jumping up and down with glee. “Santa! You’re real!”

“Of course, I’m real,” Five said in his normal, clipped and irritated tone. Then, after seeing the judgmental looks from the other adults in the room, rolled his eyes and deepened his voice. “I came to visit you because you’ve been so good this year and I apparently had time in my very busy schedule to just drop in for a random chat.”

Grace looked out the window. “Where’s your reindeer?”

“I had to put them down,” Five said dryly until Lila cleared her throat with an icy glare. “Downtown. I left them downtown for the parade. They needed to rest.”

“Then how did you get here?”

“Oh, right. Well, I have a backup engine on the sleigh. Which is parked on the roof right now, so don’t even ask me why you can’t see it.”

Grace eyed him up suspiciously. Then she poked him in the stomach. “Why aren’t you chubby like in the pictures?”

Five grinned and looked over at you. “Because Mrs. Claus has been very stingy with her baking these days, so I’m not eating as many cookies and pies as I usually do.” He gave you a wink. “Even though I love eating her pie.”

You tried to hold in a laugh, but it came out as a quiet snort while you looked down at your feet. You heard Lila mutter “Ugh, gross,” under her breath.

Grace’s face lit up. “That’s ok! We have cookies for you!” She hurried over to the nearby dining table and grabbed a plate full of messily-decorated Christmas cookies, bringing them back to Five and handing them to him. “Here! I baked them just for you.”

Five smiled as he took the plate. “These look delicious.”

“Oh, wait! I almost forgot,” she said before going back to the table and returning with an opened bottle of beer. “Here. I wanted to give you milk, but my dad said you’d like this more.”

Five looked up at Diego, who was grinning. Five nodded a thanks to his brother as he took the bottle. “He was right. Thank you, Grace.”

“So, Santa, I bet you want to know what Grace wants for Christmas, right?” Diego asked with added emphasis.

“Oh right! Yes, absolutely,” Five said, setting down the cookies and beer on a side table. He sat down in one of the arm chairs.

Grace immediately climbed up onto his lap, her little face shining with innocence and wonder as she gazed up at Five’s fake-bearded face. He beamed down at her and the image melted your heart. You started to imagine all of the cute moments like this that would surely happen once you and Five had your own children. You had no doubt that Five would make an amazing dad, despite his usual old-man grumpiness. He had been through so much in his life and he deserved to have a family of his own. You just hoped you would be able to give him one.

As you were daydreaming about that, Grace began rattling off all of the things she wanted to get for Christmas. With each thing that she mentioned, Five would glance quickly over to Diego, where his brother would give him a thumbs up or a thumbs down, indicating whether or not they had bought those gifts for her already. Five would either agree or make up some excuse as to why he couldn’t bring her that particular gift.

“And a pony!” Grace added at the end of her very long list.

Diego and Lila both gave very emphatic thumbs down. Five shook his head sadly. “I’m sorry, but I can’t bring you a pony.”

“Why not?”

“Because it won’t fit in the sleigh.”

“But doesn’t your sleigh fit all kinds of presents?”

“Uh, yes…but ponies don’t like to fly.”

“What about pegasuses?”

“Those aren’t real.”

“Yes they are.”

“No, they are not.”

“Yes they are.”

“No…” Five continued to argue through gritted teeth. “They are not.”

“Ok!” Diego broke in, clapping his hands together loudly. “I think it’s time for Santa to wrap things up.”

Five gestured to the bag of gifts he had left on the floor. “I did bring you some presents early. Why don’t you go check them out?”

As Grace jumped down from his lap and ran over to the bag to peer inside, Lila plopped the twins on to Five’s lap, one on each leg. They were really too young to understand what was going on or talk in any real way, but they peered up at Five and babbled away. Diego took pictures of the adorable scene while Five chuckled when one of them tried to pull on his beard. Five looked over at you and smiled warmly.

After a few minutes, as Grace was happily pulling out her toys that you had picked out for her, she turned to her parents. “Ok, now you guys have to sit on Santa’s lap.”

“NO!” Diego, Lila, and Five all exclaimed at the same time.

You laughed out loud as you looked at their horrified faces, while Grace just looked confused. You decided to try and save the situation a little bit. “I’ll sit on his lap,” you said with a smile.

Lila rolled her eyes before taking the twins off, while Five grinned and patted his leg. “Well, come on over.”

As you sat in Five’s lap, your red sweater dress rose up a little over your bare thigh and he rested his hand on it, sending a warm tingling sensation up your spine.

“So, tell me…” Five said with a gleam in his eye. “Have you been naughty or nice this year?”

You pretended to think about it. “I’m not sure. A little of both maybe?”

“Hmmm…it’s not good to be naughty. Naughty girls don’t get presents.”

You stuck out your bottom lip and twisted a finger in his fake beard. “I’m sorry, Santa…I promise I’ll be a good girl from now on.”

Five’s hand moved a little higher up your thigh and he gave it a squeeze. “You better be. Or else Santa might have to spank you.”

“Oh, good lord,” Lila huffed out before grabbing the beer that Five left on the table and taking a swig.

“Aren’t you going to tell him what presents you want?” Grace asked as she busied herself with her new Play-Doh Fun Factory.

“Yes, tell me young lady, what can Santa bring you?” Five asked.

You adjusted yourself on his lap and leaned in so you could whisper near his ear. “I want Santa to stuff my stocking with his entire load later tonight.”

Five inhaled sharply, letting out a shocked cough. You giggled when he had to shift in his seat to avoid you rubbing too much against his junk. “Wow…ok…” he stammered before getting a grip again. “I think Santa can manage that.”

Making sure that Grace wasn’t looking, you pulled Five’s beard down, stretching the elastic past his chin as you gave him a sensual, opened mouthed kiss before letting it snap into place again. You heard Five let out a little groan under his breath, which made you smirk with satisfaction. Then you hopped off his lap, walking away with an extra bounce in your step as he stared hungrily after you.

After a few more minutes of Five chatting with Grace and making sure he ate one of her cookies and telling her how good it was, Lila checked the clock.

“I think it’s time for Santa to get going and then we can head to the parade!”

Grace jumped up. “Awww…can’t Santa come with us?”

“No, sorry kiddo,” Lila answered. “Santa has lots of other kids to visit tonight, remember?”

With a heavy sigh and a nod, Grace looked up at Five who you could tell was itching to get out of there and back home. “Thank you for my presents.”

Five smiled sweetly down at her. “You’re welcome, Gracie. Merry Christmas.”

Again, you got that warm feeling in your stomach watching how sweet he was being with his niece. Especially since you knew how much he hadn’t wanted to do this. He really was just a big softy inside. At least when it came to his family.

Grace turned to you again. “Will Santa come down your chimney later?”

You almost choked as you tried desperately not to make a comment or start laughing. You could see Five was trying to do the same, although he was looking gleefully over at you waiting for your response. Diego heard and shook his head, even though he was trying to hold back a laugh as well.

“I sure hope so,” you said with as much of a serious face as you could manage. “I’ll be up all night just waiting for Santa to come all the way down my chimney. Maybe more than once.”

Grace frowned. “He only comes once.”

“Oh really? Only once?” you asked with fake disappointment.

“Well, maybe Santa is tired or had too much to drink,” Five muttered under his breath and you bit the inside of your cheek to stifle your laugh.

“OK!” Diego yelled loudly, as he stepped into the middle of your wildly inappropriate conversation, shooting you and Five angry looks. “Time to get ready for the parade!”

As Lila was bundling up the twins and Diego was trying to wrestle Grace into her winter coat and boots, she pulled away from him to run back to Five. He saw her coming and crouched down to get at her level. His niece threw her little arms around his neck and hugged him tightly.

“I love you, Santa,” she said and her parents let out a loud “Awww”.

Then she leaned in closer to Five’s ear, but you could still hear her. “I know it’s you, Uncle Five.”

You put a hand over your mouth to try and hide your surprise while Five looked up to make sure Diego and Lila weren’t listening. He whispered back. “How did you know?”

Grace rolled her eyes. “Santa doesn’t blink, silly. Duh.”

Five laughed and nodded. “You are so smart. I should have known I couldn’t fool you.”

She giggled and then whispered conspiratorially to him again. “Don’t tell my mom and dad, though. They think you really are Santa.”

Biting back a laugh, Five nodded. “Good idea. I wouldn’t want to spoil it for them.”

Grace gave him one more hug before going back to her dad to finish getting ready. Five looked up at you and you both grinned at the cuteness overload that just happened.

“Alright, well, I have to go deliver gifts to all of the boys and girls in the world, which is entirely possible to do in one single night, so I’ll see you later,” Five said as he stood back up. “You two,” he said, pointing at Diego and Lila, “You should appreciate your older brother more. He has to put up with a lot from you assholes.” He looked over at you and gave you another wink. “And you. You better be a good girl. Santa’s always watching.” Then he was gone in another blue flash.

“Oh, shit, we have to go. Parking is going to be a nightmare,” Lila said as she checked her watch. She looked around the messy living room, noticing the Play-Doh that had already been smashed into the carpet. “Damn it, I don’t have time to clean up and everyone’s coming over tomorrow. We won’t be home until late, either.”

“I can do it,” you offered.

“Yeah?”

“Sure, no problem. You guys go, and I’ll clean up. I’ll lock up behind me when I leave.”

“Oh, you’re a lifesaver!” Lila gushed. Then she motioned for Diego and Grace to start moving out the front door, while she hoisted both twins up on either hip. “Let’s go, guys! There’s a spiked hot chocolate waiting with Mommy’s name on it.”

As soon as the happy family was in their car and pulling out of the driveway, you were startled when Five suddenly blinked inside the house, appearing directly next to you, and still wearing the full Santa suit.

“Shit!” you exclaimed, a hand on your heart. “You scared me!”

“Well, I was freezing my balls out there behind the house, waiting for them to leave.”

You laughed. “Sorry about your balls. If there was a fire, I’d say you could warm them up by the Yule log.” You paused, thinking with a frown. “What even is a Yule log, anyway? I never understood that.”

Five grinned evilly and yanked your body to him as you let out a shriek. “I got your Yule log right here, honey.”

“Five…” you giggled as he started covering you with small kisses while the cheap beard tickled your cheeks and neck. Then you put a hand on his chest as you shifted your body, sliding up against something hard at the front of his pants. “Whoa…you weren’t kidding.”

“Told you,” he smirked.

“I knew I was being flirty, but I didn’t think I got you that wound up.”

“Darling, everything you do gets me wound up. But you were doing much more than flirting, sitting there in my lap, in that dress, and saying those dirty things. You knew exactly what you were doing.”

You smiled coyly, reaching up to unhook the beard from around his ears and take it off. “I do like the Santa thing, I won’t lie. But I never did like men with facial hair.”

“Good thing you didn’t know me back when I was older.”

With a laugh you threw the beard on the floor and planted a big kiss on his mouth. “For anyone else, that would be such a weird sentence.”

Five pulled you in tighter, the hard bulge under the red pants digging hard into your hip. “What do you say we head home and I can take a crack at that chimney for you.”

You pressed your body against his, the crushed velvet soft as it brushed against your skin. You ran your hands down his arms and chest. “I’m not sure I can wait to get home. I don’t know what it is, but you are killing me in this.”

Five looked around. “Here? In my brother’s house?”

You shrugged and reached around to squeeze his butt. “Why not? They won’t be home for hours. They’ll never know.”

Five looked down at you with a wicked leer before blinking again, this time taking you with him, as he landed perfectly seated in one of the kitchen chairs and you sitting sideways on his lap again. “How about you finish telling Santa what you want?”

When you adjusted yourself to straddle his lap, your sweater dress pulled almost all of the way up to your waist. You ground your groin harder into his, while draping your arms over his shoulders. With his hands gripping your hips, you pushed your chest against him as you leaned in for a kiss. “I’m afraid I have been very, very naughty,” you purred while plucking the red and white hat off his head and throwing it behind you.

As Five looked down between you, he saw what you were referring to and moved his hand to your hair, intertwining his fingers in it, while letting out a low rumble from his throat. “No panties? Fuck, you are so bad.”

“Can I still be on the nice list?” you asked, blinking innocently.

“I think we can work something out.”

At that, you were attacking his mouth with your own, smothering him in deep, urgent kisses while his other hand roamed under your dress to your bare hip underneath. He stoked your smooth skin, moving down your thigh and back up again, as he returned every heated kiss with just as much fervor. You wanted him. You needed him. And you were totally going to fuck him in his silly, stupid Santa suit like your life depended on it.

“Five,” you gasped in between eager bites and licks at his lips, your hands resting on either side of his face while you devoured him. “I need your cock.”

“Shit…” he groaned, jerking you closer and making your bare pussy drag along the soft material of his pants. “You are filthy today.”

“Are you complaining?” you asked, dipping your head down to suck more kisses along his neck.

Five closed his eyes as he tipped his head back. “Not in the least.”

When Five moved his hand between your legs, stroking you with his long fingers like he knew you loved, you whimpered into the crook of his neck.

“Well, don’t stop now, naughty girl,” Five said quietly next to your ear while he sunk two fingers inside you and you rocked against his hand. “Keep talking.”

You lifted your head to look him in the eyes, the deep green of his irises gleaming with lust. Letting out little grunts while you rode his fingers, you clutched onto his shoulders.

“I want that big, hard cock of yours deep inside me. I want you to fill me all the way up with your hot cum. And I want you to do it now.”

“Damn it, you’re hot like this,” he breathed out, right before removing his fingers from you.

You couldn’t wait any longer, and you began hurriedly trying to get in his pants, but the stupid suit was complicated. Finally figuring it out, you undid the large black belt that went around his waist and tossed that to the side. Then you unbuttoned the big red coat, opening it wide to reveal the white undershirt he had on underneath and running your hands down his firm chest. With the bulk of that out of the way, your hands dropped to the front of his pants, fumbling with the button that kept them closed.

Five laughed when you made a frustrated growling noise. He reached down to help you out, finally getting them undone enough to get at what you wanted.

Shoving a hand inside his pants, Five paused and held your gaze with a slight smirk. “Santa’s got a big package for you, baby.”

You tried to keep a straight face, but you failed and started giggling while Five’s grin grew wider. Your laughter subsided, however, when he pulled out his generous package and rubbed it against your wet slit. With a loud moan, you thrust your hips to move back and forth over his hard shaft.

“Give it to me, Five,” you whined desperately.

“That’s no way to get back on the nice list, sweetheart,” he teased while gripping your hips and steadying you over him.

You let out an annoyed huff, but at this point you would do anything to have him fuck you. “Please, Five…”

“Five?” he asked with one eyebrow raised, just to be a jerk.

With a smile and a shake of your head, you played along. You’re the one that wanted to fuck him in a Santa suit, so you couldn’t be that surprised that he would make you work for it.

“Please, Santa,” you begged, burying your face into the side of his neck again, and brushing it softly with your lips. “I want you to shove that package inside my sleigh.” It was a pretty lame innuendo, but your brain was only half functioning at the moment.

You heard Five exhale a soft laugh and you smiled into his neck. Then he was lining himself up and letting you sink slowly onto his cock. With a muffled cry, you felt him penetrate you as deeply as possible.

“Oh fff-uuuck…” you groaned out, pulling back to look him in the face again.

With his dark eyebrows creased together and his mouth partly open as he concentrated on the amazing feeling of being inside of you, he managed to look even sexier. His hands grasped tightly to your hips as he started to move you over him.

When you looked into his eyes, your arms wrapped around his shoulders and your hands on the back of his neck, you were suddenly taken over by an intense wave of love for him. Flashes of your life together flooded your mind. He had been hard to crack open in the beginning, but he eventually opened himself up to you. From there, he had to learn how to navigate a real relationship, but you stuck with him through all of the ups and downs. Even now, a year after your marriage, there were challenges. Being married to Five wasn’t always easy, but loving him was.

You leaned in to kiss him, softly and tenderly, while your fingers wound lightly into the hair at the nape of his neck. His steady pace of thrusting your body over his cock started to slow as he reacted to your kiss. He gently traced one hand down your cheek.

“Five,” you said quietly as your mouths parted, and you rested your forehead against his. “All I really want for Christmas is to give you a family. I’m sorry I haven’t been able to.”

“Darling,” he responded with a small smile, rubbing a thumb over your lips. “You have nothing to be sorry about. You have made me the happiest man in the world, and nothing will change that. Kids or no kids.”

With that, you let him take control again, thrusting his cock up into you while sliding your hot core back and forth, his fingers digging into your sides. Your deep, ravenous kisses were only interrupted by sharp gasps and whines as you clutched onto the back of the chair and tried to match the rhythmic motion of his fucking.

When a particularly rough drive had you pulling away with a loud cry, you pressed your cheek to his, your breath labored as you continued to ride him. “Oh god…you’re so deep.”

“I know sweetheart, but can you give me any more?” he breathed next to your ear. “You feel so fucking good.”

You spread your legs further apart, pressing down as far as possible, forcing his dick deeper, until it felt like it was going to stab you in the stomach. Five grunted through a clenched jaw as he put all of his concentration into his calculated fucking.

“Oh shit…” you breathed out, tucking your face into the side of his neck again. “Put a baby in me, Five.”

“Fuck yes I’m going to put a baby in you. I….oh, fffuck…” Five groaned huskily as he emptied himself inside you.

Your body gave in at the same time, clenching and shuddering around him as he held you tightly to his chest, his hips bucking up sporadically. He panted against your shoulder, his mouth pressed hotly against you while he moaned quietly with each eruption of cum that coated your insides.

As you both tried to catch your breath, you stayed wrapped in his arms with your head resting on his chest. Neither of you made a move to get up, and Five caressed your hair while giving you soft kisses to your temple.

After a minute, you raised your head with a dreamy smile and kissed him, brushing a stray piece of hair off his forehead.

“Maybe it’ll be a Christmas miracle,” you said hopefully.

“Maybe so. But if not, that’s ok too. I have you and that’s more than enough.”

“I love you so much, Five.”

“I love you too, darling.”

*****************************************

A year later, on Christmas day, you were back at Diego and Lila’s house, which was loud and packed with the entire family. There was wrapping paper strewn all over the floor, empty glasses and plates piled up on every surface, and the smell of roast turkey still hung in the air. Everyone was happy, stuffed full of food, and partly drunk. It had been a great party, but you were ready to head home for the night. Looking around for Five, you spotted him across the room, talking with Luther.

“Sorry to interrupt, but I think we should head home. Someone needs to get to bed.”

When Five turned around, he pointed to the sleeping baby snuggled up against his chest. “Too late, she fell asleep listening to her Uncle Luther’s boring ass story.”

“Hey!” Luther said with a hurt puppy dog expression. “My story about moon rock classification was not boring.” He paused. “Wait…was it?”

You laughed and reached for your three month-old daughter, taking her from Five while she stirred and let out a big yawn before dozing off again. “Come here, Holly,” you said quietly, kissing the top of her little head. “Let’s go home.”

While Five packed up the eight million baby items you had brought with you, in addition to all of the gifts the family had heaped on her, you watched with a loving smile. Who would have predicted that one impulsive, oddly kinky, but very sexy screw on Christmas Eve just one year earlier would have led to this? You had your perfect family with Five. And that was all you ever wanted.

After everything was put in the car, Five blinked next to you, wearing a devious grin and a red Santa hat on his head.

“Look what I found in the back of the trunk,” he said, pointing to the hat. “Want to try and give Holly a little brother or sister?”

With a giggle, you shook your head. “Very tempting, but ask me sometime when I’m not so sleep deprived I can barely see straight.” You gave him a kiss, your hand resting on the side of his face. “You do look good in that, though.”

At that moment, Diego came wandering up with a smart-ass smile. He gave Five a hard clap on the back. “Look at you guys. I can’t believe my feral little brother is all domesticated now. I never would have thought.”

“I’m twenty eight years older than you, asshole,” Five reminded him with a frown.

Diego shrugged and crossed his arms over his chest. “Whatever. I’m still shocked as hell.” He turned to you with your little daughter in your arms, cocking his head to the side. “Are you sure Holly is really Five’s? She’s way too cute to be related to his grumpy ass.”

As Diego laughed at his own joke and you resisted your own, Five put an arm around you with that not-so-amused expression of his. “Ready to go, darling?” When you nodded, he turned back to his brother. Plopping the Santa hat onto Diego’s head, Five smirked. “By the way, Diego, your niece was conceived in that chair over there. And yes, I was still wearing the suit.”

As Diego stood staring dumbfounded, the gears in his head turning as he tried to piece together what Five was saying, it suddenly dawned on him and his mouth dropped open. “Wait…WHAT?”

“Merry Christmas,” Five said sweetly, right before blinking away; taking his new little family with him for the ride.

#number five x reader #number five x you #five hargreeves x you #five hargreeves x reader #number five imagine #five hargreeves imagine #number five smut #five hargreeves smut #tua smut #five hargreeves #number five #female reader #reader insert #smut requests #requests open #five x reader #five x you #badkittywrites #christmas smut

235 notes · View notes

e-m-ma-lmfao · 1 year ago

Note

PLS YOU NEED TO WRITE MORE FICS ABOUT ASTARION the one you did was so good and cute ☹️☹️ i love it

Let Me Clean Your Wounds

pairing : astarion x (fem) reader

summary : a long week of hard work leaves your party tired and injured. you offer to clean astarions and to your surprise, he accepts.

warnings : talk about blood.

a/n : thank you anon :0 i STILL have not played baldurs gate (so i apologize again for my lack of knowledge).

It had been an incredibly long week.

It started by someone in the party pointing out that you had no more money left. So you had to spend your days doing odd jobs for people in the nearby town.

However, a few of them had failed to mention the fact that their job requests could end up harming you in more ways than one. An easy job, like gathering fruit for an old lady who can’t venture out that far anymore, suddenly turned into fighting a hag in the woods for trespassing on her property.

The compensation received was hardly enough for the injuries you and your party would gather on your bodies throughout the day.

As powerful as your group was, being caught off guard by some giant creature in the woods left you at a disadvantage. And when calmly mentioned to the people of the village, suggesting that their pay be higher for sending you to do such strenuous tasks so they wouldn’t be attacked themselves, they threw their arms up to you.

Calling you greedy and saying you were trying to steal their gold. Of course that didn’t sit well with the nearby guards, and while jumping to conclusions without any investigation, you were thrown in a cell. Not all your party, just you, as the leader.

You weren’t released until a member of your party persuaded them, using the gold you had just earned from the townspeople’s ridiculous jobs.

So you packed up your camp, and ventured out to find another village. One where you hadn’t been put behind bars for scheming and trying to steal gold from the elderly.

When you found a nice spot, and a town that looked to have more than enough gold to go around, you set up camp in the nearby woods. The townspeople were less than friendly, but at least they were honest about their jobs.

They made it abundantly clear that they would not be handing out charity and that you had to work for the gold you earned. That turned out to be a challenge after a few jobs had been completed , and it had clicked that your party has been consistently acquiring injuries over the last few days.

Your party was down in power. You were lacking in energy, and it was showing in the way your attacks would fly but often miss or hit with not much force behind them.

So after completing one last job, and buying some fresh meat from the town, you decided to rest. Finally caving into the exhaustion, you felt almost weak when Lae’zel complained about stopping. But nobody else seemed to have any complaints.

Lae’zel was hasty to eat, along with almost everybody else in the party. They got a fire started and the warmth hugged your body, but while scanning over everyone’s face you realized just how rough your condition had become .

Everyone seemed to be holding up all right, you weren’t too worried, but as you looked in closer you noticed Astarion was seated farther away from the fire picking at his skin.

Curious, you left the warmth of the fire and wandered over to him.

“Mind if I sit?”

“No, well, not much. But I don’t think you’d listen if I said I did.” You shook your head at him before taking a seat beside him.

His face was pretty bruised up, cuts on his cheek and lip. And his arms were covered with scratches that it was continuing to pick at.

You took another glance before standing up and walking back over to your own tent to grab some bandages, your flask of water, and a rag of some sort to wipe his wounds. When you came back he stared at you with amusement in his eyes.

“What exactly are you planning to do with all that, darling?”

“You're covered in cuts, have to clean them up so they don’t scar your pretty face. Let me clean your wounds?” You tried not to let the pet name have any effect over you, but you were sure your thoughts were showing through your cheeks. His hand moved to touch his cheek, as if he didn’t believe that he truly did have any injuries, wincing as his finger brushed against a larger cut.

“You’re seriously worried about me when you’re in the same condition? For the love of the gods , you were thrown in a cell this week and you're truly worried about some cuts on my cheeks?”

“May I?” You held the rag up in your hands, pouring some water over it. He nodded, hesitantly of course, but he allowed it anyway.

Gently, you placed the dampened rag over his cuts, wiping away at the dried blood and layer of dirt covering his pale skin. His brows furrowed, the sight causing you to let out a giggle. Usually, Astarion was very closed off, so being this close to him and him allowing you to help him was sort of new to you.

“Why are you laughing? I’m in pain and your ..giggling?” He tried to be stern and serious, his usual facade, but a small smile was playing at the corner of his lip.

“I’m sorry,” You let out another giggle as you swiped away at his skin and his eyebrows furrowed once more, “It’s just cute, I’ve never seen your face scrunch up like that.”

He seemed to pause, his mouth slightly agape as he stared at you. You were being serious. You thought he was cute, when he was covered in blood and dirt. Him showing a little weakness , you thought it was cute?

“What? I know my face is probably dirty.” You rubbed at your cheek with your free hand, conscious of your appearance as his gaze lingered on your face. He didn’t care though, he was too busy thinking about your words.

“Cute is an absurd word to use when describing someone like me. I’m too handsome to be described in such ..simple terms.” His smirk returned to his face, your mouth now agape unsure of whether he was serious or not.

“C’mon now Astarion, I never said you weren’t handsome. I just said you were cute with your face all scrunched up like that.” The rag sat in your lap, his face was clean, his cuts just needed a little cover up.

“So you do think I’m handsome?” He leaned in closer , his voice captivating.

“Well I never said that either.” You placed your hand on his chest to distance yourself , ripping off a piece of the bandaging in your hands and manipulating it into place on his cheek.

He wore a subtle pout on his lips but when you moved in close and kissed his cheek, in a moment of boldness, it soon fell away.

Astarion’s hands brushed against your own, taking the damp rag and pouring more water onto the other unused end.

“My turn, darling.” The rag, making contact with your skin, made goosebumps appear on your skin. It was colder than you expected, and you knew there had to be small cuts littering your face by the way it stung. Your face must have tensed because he took his turn to laugh at you.

“You know, you are very beautiful, even with your face all scrunched up.” He was mocking you. obviously, but his voice mixed with his compliments made your cheeks flush.

A final swipe along your cheek and he pulls the rag away, “There. All clean, my dear.”

His hand reached out to cup your cheek, but before the act became too intimate, he changed his course and ran his hand along the side of your hair to flatten it down.

“You really are quite pretty .” He knew his words had such a serious effect on you, as you never tried to hide the fact that your feelings for him were far from platonic interest. It was so weird seeing him be so friendly, and flirty in a way that wasn’t meant to manipulate.

“Would you stop? It’s not nice to tease y'know.”

“And who told you I was teasing, my dear? Was it Lae’zel cause I’ve always thought she might have a thing for me.” He laughed at the end of his sentence, joking. “I would never tease a woman as pretty as you, that would be very cruel of me.”

“Do you want to join me by the fire?” His gaze shifted to look at the group seated around the fire, he seemed to ponder before looking back at you with furrowed brows.

“I can smell their horrible odor from here.” You huffed, pushing his shoulder. He looked once more, and seemed to ponder some more but his face was hard enough to read when he wasn’t looking away from you.

Astarion groaned, ringing out the wet rag still sitting in his hands. “That is not an answer, Astarion. I’m cold, and the fire looks so nice.”

“Fine, if we must, we can go,” You smiled down at him as you stood but it was replaced with a look of shock when he pulled you to sit back down, “On one simple condition.”

You rolled your eyes, “What could you possibly want from me?”

He stayed silent for a second, but as he noticed you becoming increasingly impatient he began to speak.

“A kiss. Not a petty one, and not on my cheek. I mean a real one.” You were flush in the face once more. He seemed totally serious, a permanent smirk painted on his face, but his eyes stared into your own without any sign of humor. You honestly thought he might be mocking you.

“Okay. I can do that. Easy, but only if you’re nice and say please.”

“Now who’s teasing.” You only stared at him, sternly. If he wanted to act like a child, and demand rewards in order to complete simple tasks, then you could tease him like one. “Fine. Please…pretty please.”

Your eyes widened, you didn’t think you had ever heard him say please to anyone, let alone add in a “pretty”.

He didn’t move, he was entirely dead set on this. His face was close enough to yours that you didn’t have to shuffle very far. As gently as you could, in case he decided that he was joking and pulled away, you placed your hands on his face.

One hand cupping his cheek, fingertips rubbing at the hairs falling delicately in front of his ears, the other near the bottom of his cheek and holding onto his jaw. Slowly, you pulled him in until your lips met his. You still weren’t entirely convinced that he was serious, but when his fingers entangled in your hair and pulled you in deeper, you had a hunch that he might not be joking.

He didn’t let you pull away until he was entirely satisfied. Your breath was heavy, and your skin was hotter than before in multiple ways.

“I haven’t had a meaningful one in a long time, darling. Thank you.”

“Should we go sit by the fire?” You stood up, legs wavering before stiffening, and you offered him out your hand. He took it in his large one, following you to the fire, sitting beside you. There was a heavy silence, causing you to look around and see everybody's eyes already on you.

“What?”

“If you guys are gonna keep sucking each other's faces, could you please do it in a tent? You made me lose my appetite.”

#astarion #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x reader #baldur's gate 3 #bdg3 #baldurs gate x reader #x reader #female reader #oneshot #drabble #fem reader

2K notes · View notes

godmadeaterribleerror · 4 months ago

Text

Chapter 13 - The Terror of Knowing

Series Masterlist

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

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

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

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

Read on A03!

Chapter 12 - Chapter 14

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

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

A lot.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where did you go?”

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

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

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

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

His frown deepens. “No.”

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

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

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

“Gift?”

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

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

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

“Passcode?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s my shield.”

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

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

You blink. “What, the photo?”

He grunts in affirmation, still staring at the screen.

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

“With what. How did it get there.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shut it. Open the phone.”

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

“Ready to admit defeat?”

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

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

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

“Say you were wrong.”

“No.”

You shrug, “then I’m not fixing it.”

“Brat.”

“Cunt.”

“You’re fucking annoying.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Apps? What the fuck are apps?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Fucking obviously.”

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

“Answer my question.”

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

“Porn? You use this for porn?”

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

“What kind of porn?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

That makes you snort. “I doubt that.”

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

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

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

“Shut up.”

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

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

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

“Fuck you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No.

“Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yogurt and toast.”

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

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

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

“What were you thinking about?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

William Butcher: Worst Boss Ever

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

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

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

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

“I don’t give a shit.”

“Lovely. Open your phone.”

“Why,” he grumbles, and you shrug.

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

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

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

“A text?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We ran out.”

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

“What about the yogurt?”

“You barely have any.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

That makes him look up. “A hummingbird?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But your phone buzzes before you can.

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

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

Benjamin: Handsome Fucking Dumbass Cunt

You look hot when your being annoying

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

“That’s all you have to say?”

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

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

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

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

You sigh, but do.

Benjamin: Handsome Fucking Dumbass Cunt

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, I just think it’s hilarious.”

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

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

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

“So that’s a yes?”

“I didn’t say that.”

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

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

“I said huge fucking baby.”

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

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

“My point still fucking stands.”

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

“No.”

“What if I said please.”

“I don’t care.”

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

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

“You don’t know that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I can’t-“

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

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

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

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

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

“Benjamin-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Brat.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But-“

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

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

His brows raise. “Strawberries?”

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

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

“No. Because this won’t work.”

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

“Maybe.”

“Then get a move on.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Which is really annoying. Cheating is easier.

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

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

“It didn’t work,” you say flatly.

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

You sigh. “It’s only 10:30.”

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

“You’re a fucking cunt.”

“You love it, brat. Go again.”

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

“Again.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Can you do it again?”

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

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

“What are you-“

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

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

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

“Again, that’s rude-“

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

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

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

“And whose fault is that?”

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

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

“Fucking shower!”

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

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

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

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

“Shut up.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not grumpy.”

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

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

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

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

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

Hughie Campbell: Not Allowed to Speak On Fall Out Boy

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

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

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

You smile softly at the screen.

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

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

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

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

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

He scans your face. “Vanilla?”

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

“Shut the fuck up.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And that was terrifying.

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

“What if I fucked a dog?”

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

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

“Did you fuck a dog?”

“No, that’s just an example.”

“Why the hell is that your example?”

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

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

“No, but that’s not the point-“

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

“Really?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And you,” he winks. “Free you.”

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

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

“Fuck you.”

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

He does.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s a talent.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes. Fuck, yes.”

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

“You dick-“

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

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t. Try again.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It wasn’t something to worry about.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Me?”

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

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

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

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

“I’m still sor-”

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

You nod slowly. “No lies.”

“You done freaking out?”

“I wasn’t freaking out-”

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

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

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

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

His eyes flash. “Liked it?”

“Sorry-”

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

“All of it.”

“How much.”

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

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

“In the bathroom-”

“Did you cum?”

You swallow. “Yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Cun-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Brat.”

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

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

“Why does the whole room smell like vanilla.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I fucking know about cameras-“

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

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

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

He scowls. “Shut up.”

“Answer my question.”

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

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

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

“It’s the front view.”

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

“For selfies.”

“Selfies?”

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

“Why would you need that.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Social media?”

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

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

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

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

“Turn the camera.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What the hell is Instagram.”

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

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

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

“How?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not if I just walk the hell away-“

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

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

“Candy Crush.”

“What.”

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

“I am not-“

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

“Spend money?”

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

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

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

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

“Okay.”

“I’m being serious.”

You grin. “And I said okay.”

“Brat.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Charming.”

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

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

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

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

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

————

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

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

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

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

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

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

Because She was perfect.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sunglasses?”

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

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

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

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

She was waiting for him, talking to Kimiko in silence with a smile splitting her face. MM had left, Butcher was watching them with a look like he’d tasted shit, and Ben didn’t think anyone would miss the asshole if he somehow got slammed, face first, into the wall over and over. Especially as She heard Ben’s step, looking up at him with the same smile she needed to stop giving him. The smile that Ben couldn’t stop himself from reading as oh, it’s you! Hello, Benjamin. I adore you and if you wanted to give me every fucking piece of you, covered in blood or not, I’d take them and keep them safe.

But that didn’t sound like Her at all. For one, she’d never say every fucking piece of you. She might say every part of you, or all of you, good, bad, and ugly, but she wouldn’t say every fucking piece of you. Ben would say that.

Also, She didn’t think that. She gave a shit about him, Ben knew that much, but she didn’t adore him. Not like he adored Her. She didn’t want to keep him safe, not like Ben needed Her to be safe. The Thing would keep every bloody and dark part of Her safe if she’d give them to him. It would hold them carefully until she wanted them back, and then care for the place She’d put them until they returned.

So Ben just took Her smile as best he could when he wasn’t allowed to pull it up to his mouth, make it open into a moan, and keep going and going up he learned what Her orgasms sounded like.

If She ever let him hear what her orgasms sounded like, it would take a damn miracle of God to stop him from hearing them every single fucking day.

He took Her smile, returned it with his own, and passed her the sunglasses. “Found them under the bed,” he grunted, stopping at Her side.

“Oh,” She frowned, opening them and placing them on her brow. “I thought I checked there.”

“Did you say the bed.” Butcher’s voice was mocking and cold, but lined with what Ben pinned to be genuine, morbid curiosity. “Are you two sharing a bed.”

Ben is more than fucking ready to cut out Butcher’s tongue. Maybe stab him in the throat to finish damn the job. But She speaks first.

“Yeah, we are. Because some of us have nightmares about Homelander raping us and feel safer when we're not alone. So shove it up your ass.”

The Thing was boiling in Ben. Overflowing with warmth and power for Her. Her, Her, Her, it chanted, making the continuing conversation a little fucking hard to hear. Ben could see Her look at him from the corner of her eyes. Giving him the tiniest smile that says thank you for not leaving me alone.

Ben couldn’t stop himself smiling back. Wouldn’t fucking dream of it. You’d be lost without me.

She wrinkled her nose at him. You can’t even use a phone camera without my help.

Not anymore, he winked. And you have not one to blame but your damn self for that, Sunshine.

She stomped on his foot, hard enough that he sort of feels it, Ben had to cover his snort with a cough.

Butcher wasn’t fooled. “Something funny, Gov?”

“Not to you, you boring fucking pussy,” Ben drawled. “Are we going to actually fucking go or just wait for you to jerk yourself off?”

“Suddenly his head is in the game,” Butcher sneered. “I wonder what fucking did it?” His gaze turns to Her. “Can I borrow your tits, Love? I think they might be bloody magic.”

“Stop being a cunt, Butcher,” She snapped, just in time to stop Ben throwing Butcher out the door hard enough to break the Pussy-Mobile Ben could see in the driveway. “And Ben’s right, we should get moving.”

Butcher muttered something that sounds like horny fucking bombs shouldn’t be allowed within ten miles of each other, and stalked out the door. Kimiko signed something to Her with a smile, and she signed back with a laugh. Before Ben could even ask what the fuck they’re saying, Her arm was linked through his and she started telling him.

“Kimiko says my tits are magic, but not as magic as Butcher’s. Which proves he’s just a dick, because if it was about magic tits he’d have the game on lock.”

“Huh,” Ben frowned, trying not to let the Thing overtake him with thoughts about how right it feels to be walking with Her looped against him. “I wouldn’t have pegged Butcher to have good tits.”

“That’s because you,” She bumped her shoulder with his. “Are very unobservant.”

“I’m incredibly fucking observant. I clocked your tits the first time we met.”

“I remember. You weren’t listening to Hughie because of it. Which is very unobservant.”

“It’s not my fault you have such good tits,” Ben grumbled, savoring the way Her heart flutters as she tried to fight her giggle. Looking up at him with fucking perfect, happy eyes. “They’re fucking weapons of war.”

She fully snorted. “I think your compliments are regressing again.”

Ben rolled his eyes, just offering a hand to steady Her as she climbs into the van. She takes it with a grin, and doesn’t let go when Ben follows her.

“What’s the plan,” She asked, and the Thing hummed as she still didn’t drop Ben’s hand, pulling him into his place at her side.

Butcher’s answer was short, clipped. “Blast Neuman.”

She blinked, her body tensing against Ben. “And?”

“That, um, that’s kind of it,” Cocksucker said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “We don’t have a huge window before Vicky gets word we’re up to something-“

She raised a hand, and Cocksucker fell silent. “What, exactly, did you use yesterday for.”

“Getting Neuman’s schedule,” MM answered this time, voice stronger than Cocksuckers but still lined with fucking guilt. “Those motherfuckers run a tight ship, we needed to know where she’d be-“

“But you didn’t come up with a plan. For when you would, inevitably, know?”

Nobody answered this time, and She gave a long sigh. Her heart was fast in her chest, but it wasn’t the stumbling, unordered beat that signals fear or panic. It was moving because Her brain was moving, her perfect face scrunched in thought, the machine that was her brain practically audible. The Pussy Brigade even had the nerve to look afraid, despite the fact that She wasn't smoking or making the air of the van wave with heat.

She turned to Kimiko—sitting at the French Prick’s side—who was the only one watching with plain curiosity. They started to sign at each other—the French Prick jumping in to add something that was received with a frown and a nod—and when She turned back to the group her face was drawn in determination.

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” She said slowly, staring ahead at the wall with her brows knit. Ben pulled Her a little closer into him, and her heart slowed slightly. “We’re catching Neuman at home. Off-guard. Do we know if other people live in the building?”

“Only some other bureaucrat fuckers,” Butcher answered from the front, and Starlight shook her head.

“And their fucking families, Butcher.”

“Okay,” She nodded slowly. “Frenchie, you burned off your fingerprints a while ago, right?”

“Oui,” the French Prick holds up his hands for display.

“Good. You’re going to pull the fire alarm. Hughie,” Her sharp gaze turned to Cocksucker. “I need you on the cameras. Make sure everyone is out. MM will be on standby if there are stragglers. Kimiko and Annie will cover the exits, Butcher,” She paused, and Ben could hear the gnaw of her lip. “Scratch all of that. Annie can’t be seen participating in this, she’ll be on the cameras, and Butcher will take her spot on the exits. Hughie, you’ll come with Ben and I. I’ll cover you when he goes off.”

There’s a second of silence, and then the van erupted in protests. Butcher shouting about how he’s not going to cover a bloody exit, he wants to see Neuman get fucked. Starlight whining about how she doesn’t want to be useless in the van, she can really help. Cocksucker fretting about how he’s not sure this is a great idea, and might be better staying on the cameras. The French Prick and Kimiko are silent, exchanging a look with subtle gestures at Her, Kimiko’s face determined, gestures growing and growing until the French Prick raised his hands in surrender. Finally, MM seemed to be trying to do what he considered reasoning with Her, that they couldn’t just go off with only Hughie, what if you need backup, what if Soldier Boy goes nuclear.

Ben opened his mouth—ready to defend himself, defend Her—but She caught his eye and shook her head. I can handle this.

He gave a curt nod back, not hiding the scowl on his face. Fine. But don’t be fucking nice to them.

Shut up, Her eyes narrowed at him before she turned back to the group, who was starting to tire themselves out like the fucking children they were. When the van was quiet once more, She spoke in a clear, bored voice.

“Butcher, we’re not killing Neuman, so you’re not invited. Annie, I know you want to help. Staying here is helping. You’ll draw attention, and if the public realizes you’re associated with Soldier Boy then we’ll be assfucked. MM, Ben won’t just go nuclear. We’ve got it under control. Hughie, you’re the only one Neuman won’t try to pop on sight. She’ll talk to you, and it’ll be good to have a friend there for when Ben’s done. And-“ She sat up a little straighter, glaring around the van. “If any of you don’t like my plan, I’d love to hear your alternatives.”

“How do you plan on getting into the bloody building?” Butcher snapped. “They ain’t just gonna let you in.”

“Fire escapes are very real, dumbass.” She retorted. “And Hughie can do that shit where he makes their cameras play the same video so they don’t see us. We’ll corner Neuman, then Frenchie will pull the alarm, and Ben will go off once it’s just us and her and Zoe.”

“What’s your escape plan?” Starlight asked, giving Cocksucker a worried look. “You two can just leave, but Hughie-“

“I can redirect Ben’s blast. Make sure it doesn’t destroy the building. Hughie will be fine.” Ben stiffens beside Her, because as far as he fucking knows she’d only done that once. And it had ended in Her small and sad and broken, curled up into herself and alone.

She has you this time, the Thing reminded him. If this goes to shit, she’ll always fucking have you.

“Are we good?” She was asking the van, and Ben saw each of the fucking pussies nod. “Awesome.”

She leaned back into Ben, and he frowned down at Her, lowering his voice so only she could hear. “You can redirect my fucking blast?”

She shrugged, starting ahead with empty eyes. “Hypothetically, yeah.”

“And you’re going to risk Hughie’s life on hypothetically?” Ben didn’t give a shit about Cocksucker’s life, but She did. And Ben gave a shit about Her life, about her not breaking down and tearing herself apart about accidentally killing Cocksucker.

“It’s an educated guess, Ben.” She muttered. “It’ll work. It has to. And don’t you dare say-“ She shot Ben a glare, voice dropping into her dogshit impression of him. “But what if it doesn’t.”

Ben scoffed. “I wasn’t going to fucking say that.”

“Yes, you were. You always say that.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Ben felt the Thing become a little lighter as a smile tugged at Her mouth. “Do I have to do anything in your plan besides hit Neuman?”

“You have to not be a dick to Hughie, let me do the talking, and stand around looking pretty until I tell you to be useful,” She counted her answers off one by one on her fingers, and Ben chuckled.

“Be pretty, huh?”

“Don’t fish for compliments, Benjamin,” She teased. “It’s unbecoming.”

“If I give you one, will you give me one?” Ben leaned forward a little, fighting every instinct in his body to soothe Her lips where she’d been chewing them with his tongue. Any marks were gone, so he couldn’t really fucking pick out where She’d been biting, but that just meant he’d have to cover all his bases. Soothe Her whole fucking mouth. “A quid pro quo?”

She hummed. “Good use of quid pro quo.”

“Is that a fucking yes?”

“Fine,” she sighed. “You look very nice in your stupid suit.”

“Nice?”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” she gave him a flat glare. “Handsome.”

“Say the whole thing.”

“My compliment better blow Shakespeare out of the fucking water,” she muttered, but looked up at him with batting eyelashes and an over-sweet voice. “You look very handsome in your stupid fucking suit. Your turn.”

Ben started to stall, because he couldn’t think of anything good enough for Her. “We should get you a suit.”

She snorted. “I am not wearing a costume.”

“It’s not a fucking costume, Sunshine, it’s a uniform.”

“If I can buy a semi accurate version of it at Spirit Halloween, it’s a costume.”

“What the fuck is a Spirit Halloween.”

“It’s a costume store. Stop stalling and give me my compliment.”

Ben sighed, scanning Her face and trying to make the Thing come up with something a little more fucking poetic than you, you, you it’s just you and if you liked we can go right fucking now and leave forever and I’d keep you safe and happy and smiling and fuck you wherever the hell you want whenever you want because it’s you and you’re perfect.

“You…” Off to a remarkably fucking shit start. “Are…” Ben was going to find it, if it was the last thing he fucking did. He was going to keep staring at Her until he figured out exactly what say that would make her face all flushed and thighs clench and heart stutter.

“I am?”

“You’re good.” Ben settled for simplicity. Poetry was not his fucking strong suit, and that was more than okay by him.

“I��m good?” She frowned at him, and for a second Ben wanted to bring her into his chest, just show Her what he’d meant. He couldn’t show her with just words, and she was frowning, and just fucking showing her would be more fun anyways. It would make Her smile, make her understand, he was goddamn sure of it. “Are you going to elaborate?”

“You’re good,” Ben repeated, shrugging and his hands fisted to stop himself from grabbing Her. “It’s pretty fucking simple. Your pretty brain should be able to figure it out.”

“Well congratulations, you’ve stumped me. Can you please be just the tiniest bit less cryptic.”

“You’re good.”

“Yeah, I heard you the first two times-“

“No,” Ben said Her name, too lost in trying to make her get it to stop himself grabbing her chin. “You’re good. You’re not what these pussies say you are. You’re a lot fucking more than whatever Homelander thinks you are. You’re better and more important than any politician, supe or no. You’re good.”

“Oh,” She whispered. “Thanks.”

Ben’s hand was still against Her jaw, and she wasn’t pushing it away. If anything She was leaning into it, keeping Ben touching her as if she didn’t care about the useless fucking onlookers either. And She was staring at him, keeping Ben with her just by fucking looking at him, her mouth just slightly open. If he wanted Ben could move his thumb up, trace Her perfect lips, see if she’d let him push it into her-

Someone who Ben was going to have to kill later said Her name, and she looked away.

The Thing was so absorbed in Her, in try to get back to Her, that Ben missed the entire first half of the conversation. MM was crouching in front of Her—holding onto the seat at her side to steady himself from Butcher’s fucking terrible driving—and talking without sparing Ben a glance.

“-Even if Butcher doesn’t tip her off, what makes you absolutely so goddamn certain Soldier Boy won’t blow his load early and screw us,” MM was hissing, and Ben scowled.

“I never fucking blow my load early-“

She caught his eye, her own flaring slightly to tell him, Shut up, Pretty Boy.

Ben grunted, but fell silent with a clenched jaw, shooting Her a look of, I don’t blow my load early.

She rolled her eyes. Now is not even remotely the time to start measuring your dick. Let me handle this.

Fine, Ben winked. But you’re welcome to help me measure it later.

She kicked Ben’s shin, addressing MM. “He won’t. I’ve been working on it.”

“You’ve been working on it?” MM scoffed. “Just because you’re all smiley and gross at each other doesn’t mean you can control this motherfucker’s PTSD.”

“No, but my fucking healing powers mean that I can get rid of it.”

MM blinked at Her, glancing quickly at Ben before speaking in a low tone that Ben, for one, didn’t fucking appreciate. “You've been healing him.”

“Allegedly,” Ben muttered under his breath, and earned a dirty look.

“Yeah, well, you’ve only blown your load once this month. So shut the fuck up.” She looked back at MM. “He can control it.”

“It’s your ass if he can’t,” MM snapped, and She rolled her eyes.

“I’m aware. He can.”

Both Ben and the Thing were big fans of how clear and final She said those words. Ben could control it, that was it, no room for discussion. She had faith in him, she trusted him, and if anyone had any issue with that she’d defend him. Just like Ben would defend Her. To the ends of the fucking earth, until they burned together.

“Do you know where we’re putting Neuman and Zoe after this?” She was still talking to MM, but Her voice had raised enough for the whole shit team to hear. “She can’t just keep being Vice President. Homelander will kill her.”

“About that,” it was Cocksucker who answered, rubbing his hands together like an anxious pussy. “They’re going to the safe house.”

“The safe house?” She repeated with a frown. “Like, our safe house?”

The Thing liked Her use of our. Ben did too. He did not like where this conversation was headed. “I am not living with Head-popper and her kid.”

“Well, I’ve got fantastic fucking news,” Butcher drawled, standing and turning as the van came to a halt. “You ain’t gonna. You two,” Butcher pointed between Ben and Her. “Will be moving.”

“To a different safe house?” She asked, and Butcher shook his head with a snake-like grin.

“To the new FBSA HQ,” Butcher winked at Ben, and Ben wanted to sew his eye shut. “In Jersey.”

“I am not living in fucking Jersey either,” Ben snapped, and She sighed.

“Why not a new safe house?”

“Because.”

She snorted at Butcher’s useless fucking response. “What, does the whole CIA somehow only have one safe house?”

“Listen,” MM grunted. “You’ll get an apartment. Just a little fuckin smaller than the house. You’ll have more freedom-“

“We both still won’t be able to leave the house.” She pointed out, and MM shrugged.

“But you’ll be able to fuckin order food. Get packages delivered without texting me or Mallory about it. Have visitors. Anything you order will have to be under a fake name, and visitors will have to be approved, but it’s more than what you have now.”

“Why now? That building was finished in January, I saw it on the news. Why move us now?”

“Because,” Butcher crossed the van with a shrug. “We bloody said so. Now are we ready to get a move on? Time is of the essence in this shit plan.”

“Okay,” She took a deep breath. “Hughie, can you-“

“On it,” Cocksucker gave Her a thumbs up, starting to tap of his little laptop. “I’ll let you know when I’m good.”

“Thanks. Just so we’re all on the same page, Butcher, what are you doing?”

Butcher rolled his eyes. “Watching the exit. Why am I getting fucking cold called-“

She ignored Butcher’s whiny bitching, and turned to Starlight. “Annie?”

“Stay in the van, make sure the building’s clear.”

“MM?”

“Standby to help Annie get people out.”

“Frenchie?”

“Fire alarm.”

She signed at Kimiko, who responded with a smile.

“Good,” She looked around the van, and Ben realized she hadn’t asked him.

Because She trusts you, the Thing rumbled. She isn’t worried about you fucking it.

“Any questions?” She asked, and when she was met with shaking heads she nodded. “Hughie?”

“We're good. Annie, do you need help-“

Starlight shook her head, taking the computer from Cocksucker. “I’ve got it.”

Cocksucker gave a small nod, and turned to Her. “I’m ready.”

“Alright,” Ben could hear the tap of Her fingers in the familiar pattern, her heart speeding up as she took another breath. “We’ll go first. Annie, find exits for Butcher and Kimiko, and send them fast. If Neuman sees us coming we need to have our asses covered. I’ll text when Frenchie’s good to pull the alarm.”

She stood on unsteady feet, and Ben’s arm shot out instinctively to catch her around the waist. He was rewarded with a grateful smile and Her heart slowing ever so slightly. “Ready?”

The question was for Ben. He knew it, because She wasn’t looking anywhere but him and her voice was soft. “Fucking born for it.”

She huffed a small laugh, dropping the sunglasses onto the bridge of her perfect nose, and Ben didn’t bother to remove his arm from her as he stood. The Pussy Brigade’s confused and judgmental stares could go suck each other off if they wanted. She gave a small gesture to Cocksucker, who left Starlight’s side to follow them out the van and into the cold alleyway.

They were silent for a second as She took in the tall brownstone building before them. Cocksucker kept shooting them both anxious fucking pussy looks as Ben held Her against him—using his body to block her from the chills of the wind—and would look away frantically whenever Ben held his gaze.

“Ben,” She looked up at him with sharp eyes, over the frames of her sunglasses. “You need to throw us.”

“What?”

Ben and Cocksucker spoke in almost perfect unison, though Cocksucker’s words were more panicked in comparison to Ben’s disbelief.

“I am not fucking throwing you,” Ben snapped Her name.

“You have to,” She looked back at the building, pointing as she spoke. “We can’t go through the emergency exit, alarms will go off. That,” Her finger moved to the iron stairs and grates lining the building. “Is our best bet. You can jump, me and Hughie can’t.”

“Then I’ll go first and lower the damn ladder.”

Cocksucker nodded. “I second Soldier Boy, that’s a better plan.”

“No,” She elbowed Ben’s ribs, shaking her head. “It’s not. That’s something people might notice. We need to leave as little a trail as possible. Ben’s going to throw us. Me first, then Hughie, then he’ll jump.”

Ben wanted to argue—tell Her that there had to be a better idea that didn’t involve Her just being chucked into the fucking air—but She had already detangled herself from Ben, and was moving towards the building. So Ben followed, Cocksucker stumbling behind him, and stopped at Her side.

“This is fucking stupid, Sunshine.”

“Uh huh,” She looked up at the fire escape. “Whenever you’re ready, Pretty Boy.”

Ben huffed, but picked Her up carefully, locking his arms firmly around her body and balancing on one leg as he propped up a knee. “Don’t die.”

“Couldn’t if I tried. Go.”

Ben squeezed Her slightly, then threw Her up. The half-second before she grabbed the rails—where she was suspended almost fucking cartoonishly in the sky—sucked all the air from Ben’s lungs. But She was fast, finding a grip and hauling herself onto the platform with only a small grunt that was carried away by the wind.

“All good!” She called down. “Send Hughie up.”

Ben looked at Cocksucker, whose face was like a fucking deer about to be mauled by a wolf.

“Uh, I’m not sure this is a good idea-“

“Shut up,” Ben grunted, walking to pick the gangly fucker up. “I’m not going to fucking kill you. And she’ll catch you.”

“But-“

Ben grabbed Cocksucker under his arms and tossed him into the air with a yelp. As promised, She grabbed Cocksucker’s hand in the air, holding him steady until the little pussy got a hold on the bars himself and pulled up to Her side. Ben sighed, rolling his neck and trying to measure the jump as he backed up.

“Ben-“

Her call was cut off as he lept into the air, landing pretty damn perfectly on the platform. Right in front of Her. “Yes?” He winked, tone mocking, and She wrinkled her nose at him.

“Show off.”

“You fucking told me to do that.”

“Fuck you,” She turned away, and the Thing started brainstorming ways to get her back later for those words. “Hughie, what floor is Neuman on?”

“The top one, I think.”

“You think?”

“I’m like 98% sure.”

She sighed. “Then we better start climbing.”

The walk up the stairs was silent, Her leading the way, Ben at the rear, and Cocksucker moving in small, quick steps between them. The wind was biting, howling in Ben’s ears louder and louder the closer they drew to the top, drowning out the sound of Her heartbeat. When they stopped, one level from the roof, She crouched below the window. Cocksucker followed suit, and Ben gave Her a flat look.

“I’m not-“

“Benjamin, get your ass down before I make you.”

He glared at Her, only because this is important, and hunched to the floor.

“I’ll go in first. Ben, I’m going to have to keep my eyes on Neuman, so you need to text Butcher.”

“I don’t have my fucking phone-“

She tossed it at Ben wordlessly, raising Her brows.

“Shut up,” he grumbled, and She stuck her tongue out.

“Ready?”

Ben grunted, and Cocksucker gave a barely perceptible nod.

She exhaled through puffed lips, moving the sunglasses into her jacket as she looked at the window. “Here we fucking go.”

Neuman’s apartment was nice. Cozy. If Ben didn’t have a fucking job to do, he’d ask for her interior decorator. Especially if he’d understood MM correctly and was going to be getting his own apartment soon. To share with Her. Their apartment.

Would she like that carpet? The Thing was fixated on a deep blue, stupidly damn fluffy carpet thrown across Neuman’s floor. No, it’s blue. Fucking pussy color. She’d like the texture though-

Job to do. Ben had a job to do. The Thing needed to shut the fuck up, because Ben had a job to do.

A job that walked right into the hallway they were standing in.

Neuman’s eyes widened, talking a stumbling step back as she yelped. “Hughie? The fuck are you doing here? In my home?” Nueman’s eyes darted to Ben, then Her. “With Soldier Boy and the Anomaly?”

“It’s complicated,” Cocksucker rubbed his neck nervously. “You should, uh, you should get Zoe.”

“Stay the hell away from my daughter. Whatever you’re doing here doesn’t fucking involve her.”

“Vicki-“

Cocksucker’s pleading words were cut off by Her, tone firm. “Neuman, we’re not going to hurt you, or Zoe. We just need you both. Now.”

Neuman laughed disbelievingly. “You’re not here to hurt me, but you brought Solider Boy?”

“We’ll explain,” She answered, voice calm even as Her heart started to pick up. “But please get Zoe.”

“Fuck no-“

“Neuman.” She crossed her arms. “You can’t pop me or Ben. You won’t pop Hughie. I swear we aren’t here to hurt you. Go get Zoe.”

There was silence for a second, Ben could see Neuman looking around frantically, trying to find a way out where there wasn’t one, and eventually giving in. “Zo, baby? Can you come here please?”

A girl, couldn’t be more than fucking twelve, entered the hall. “Mom, what’s-“ The kid’s words died with a gasp as she saw Ben, Cocksucker, and Her in the hall. “Mom?”

Neuman moved the kid behind her, holding her hand with a white-knuckled grip. “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”

“What is Hughie doing here, with Soldier Boy?!” The girl's voice was frantic, and Ben could hear her heart race. “And Homelander’s girlfriend? What the fuck is happening-“

“She’s not Homelander’s girlfriend,” Ben hissed, and She slapped Ben’s arm.

She’s just a kid, Her glare said. And you said you’d let me do the talking.

You’re not Homelander’s anything, Ben glared back. She should fucking know that.

Just a kid, Ben. She gave the phone in his hand a pointed look. Text Butcher that we’re good.

Ben scoffed, but opened the damn phone to tell Butcher that the French Prick needed to move as Neuman continued to comfort her daughter.

“Don’t worry about it, baby. I can’t explain right now, but we’re going to be fine. I just need you to stay behind me.”

“Mom-“

“Zoe,” Cocksucker said gently. “We’re not going to hurt you, or your mom. We just need to talk.”

“About what?” Neuman hissed. “I’d have taken a meeting, you didn’t have to resort to breaking into my home, Hughie.”

“Well, uh-“

“And I fucking know you visited Stan on Monday. So don’t lie to me and say you’re not up to something-“

Neuman was cut off as a wailing, deafening siren rattled through the building. Turns out the French Prick moved impressively fast. Ben had barely hit send two seconds ago.

“Ben,” She mumbled, eyes not leaving Neuman’s fearful expression. “Can you break the alarms?”

Ben nodded with a grunt, walking to the red light above them as smashing it with his fist. That seemed to be enough, he could hear everyone’s breathing and heart again, so he returned to Her side.

“Hughie, tell me when Annie says we’re good.”

Cocksucker nodded, pulling out and fidgeting with his phone, and Neuman took a shaky step back.

“Don’t try and leave, Neuman,” She said, voice tired and face bored. “I really don’t want to hurt you, so please just wait.”

“Wait for what?! What the fuck is happening?!”

She sighed. “As you probably figured out, we cut a deal with Edgar. He’s going to help us out, as long as we talk you and Zoe out of the game.”

“Out of the game?” Neuman’s face twisted in determination. “You lay a hand on me, on Zoe, and I’ll blow Hughie’s brains up.”

Cocksucker paled, “Vicki-“

“I phrased that poorly.” She addressed Neuman firmly, standing her ground. “We’re removing the V from your system. So you don’t have to be a part of this shit show. The CIA will keep you safe, and we’ll get what we need.”

“No,” Neuman shook her head, taking another step back. “Fuck no. You’re not touching me, or Zoe, and whatever Stan said he’d give you I can give you as well-“

Neuman’s words choked him her throat as fire spread slowly along the floor. Controlled, careful flames that blocked the exits and never rose above a foot.

“We’re not asking.” She said softly, almost fucking apologetic. “It might hurt for a second, but you’ll be fine. I promise.”

“Um,” Cocksucker said Her name, looking up from his phone. “We’re ready.”

“I’m sorry,” She said to Neuman, and Ben knew She fucking meant it. Her heart was bouncing around in her chest, her breathing was labored, and her face was full of guilt when she looked at him. “Now, Ben.”

Ben called the drums, pulling them as fast as he fucking could into his chest, into time with his heart. It was building, growing louder and brighter, and he angled his chest at Her right before everything fell in place inside him, and the world exploded.

The Thing roared as the bomb caught Her, even if every conscious part of Ben knew she’d be fine. She was strong, she could handle it, she’d fucking told him to hit her. But that didn’t stop the Thing from trying to climb out of him, to get to Her as she floated off the ground, surrounded in golden light and fire with her eyes shut. Ben couldn’t hear Her heart, couldn’t read her face, couldn’t give shit about Neuman trying to run or Cocksucker backing up to the window. It was just Her, burning alone, impossible to reach. Impossible to help.

She went out. For only a second all the light died, and Ben could hear Her heartbeat again. Then Her eyes opened, fucking wild and glowing, and everything exploded. Light shot from Her chest, hitting Neuman and Zoe head on, moving through their bodies as she levitated further off the floor. Ben even fucking stumbled, because the world shook. The ground moved and everything seemed to come to a screeching halt, suspended in time as She grew brighter. Time only resumed when the light—as fast as it had appeared—died, and She collapsed to the floor.

Ben fucking dove to catch Her, grabbing around her chest right before she hit the floor. Her eyes were open, and Ben could see the exhaustion in them, hear the slowing of Her heart as the energy drained from Her body. He heard Cocksucker run past them, checking on Nueman, but didn’t look away from Her.

“Ben,” Her voice was weak, breathless. “I’m fine. Make sure it worked.”

“I’m not fucking leaving you-“

“All you have to do is turn your head, check that Neuman and Zoe are alive, and tell me,” She gave a soft laugh. “Fucking drama queen.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Ben muttered, but glanced over his shoulder to where Cocksucker was standing awkwardly as Zoe climbed her feet, Neuman pulling her into a hug. “They look fucking fine.”

“Okay,” She sat up slowly, not trying to leave Ben’s hold as she called over him. “Hughie, are they-“

“We are,” Neuman answered. “I can’t feel it. Your blood or hearts. Zo?”

The girl’s hands moved to her face. “They’re gone.”

Neuman nodded, and looked back at Her. Ben could hear the race of Neuman’s heart, almost smell her fear. “Now what?”

“Butcher and Kimiko are on their way up,” Cocksucker said, glancing at his phone. “We’re going to get you somewhere safe.”

“What about my life,” Neuman shook her head. “Zoe’s life-“

“You both wouldn’t have fucking lives if Homelander decided you weren’t useful anymore,” Ben snapped. “You’re fucking welcome.”

Neuman looked at Ben with a frown, her eyes scanning over how he was still holding Her, keeping her carefully upright. “What did Edgar offer you.”

“Help,” Ben hissed. “And it's not your fucking problem now.”

“We need to move,” She tugged at Ben’s shirt, voice even quieter than before. “Homelander will have noticed this, we need to go-“

Ben nodded roughly, and scooped Her into his arms. Ben turned to Cocksucker as She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Tell Butcher you pussies better fucking haul ass to get Neuman out.”

Cocksucker nodded nervously. “Um, where are you-“

“The van. We still have shit at the safe house, we’ll need to get it before you move us. But I’m not fucking waiting here until Butcher arrives.” Until Homelander arrives. Not when She’s about to pass out. Ben spoke the last words through gritted teeth. “I did my job. Do yours.”

Ben didn’t wait for Cocksucker’s response, climbing back out of the window and studying the drop down the alley. He could just jump—it would be faster and they’d both be fine—but it would be loud. Crack the pavement.

Get more unwelcome attention.

So Ben climbed down the stairs, keeping Her secure against his chest. He jumped down from only the last platform, making sure Her hold on him was firm before did he, and moved to van in long, fast steps. He vaulted through the doors, dropping against the walls—not bothering with pointless fucking greetings to MM or Starlight—and listened to Her breathing fall, becoming slow and easy as her eyes drooped. She passed out in Ben’s arms, and he rubbed small circles on Her back because he fucking could. Because they had done it, She had done it, so Edgar would come through and she’d be safe.

It took a few minutes, but the remainder of the team—now joined by Nueman and her daughter—returned to the van. The door slammed behind them and MM took off, hightailing it away from the alley, from where Homelander would surely arrive any minute. But Ben didn’t give a shit, didn’t bother to listen to Butcher, Starlight, and Nueman talk about next steps, because She was here. Holding Ben, heartbeat in rhythm with his own.

She leaned against Ben the whole way back to the safe house. Face smushed into his chest, hair tickling Ben’s chin as she climbed up just a little closer in her sleep. Curled in his lap, a little bit of droll falling from her mouth. Ben had never seen something so fucking perfect in his life. She deserved to be like that for the rest of fucking time, comfortable and peaceful. Against Ben, if that’s what she wanted.

Ben moved slowly, careful not to disturb Her, and pulled out his phone. 696969 was a fucking stupid passcode, but he’d noticed Her fight a giggle every time he had to enter it so it would stay like that forever. It took him a minute to find the camera app—there had to be a better way to navigate this piece of shit—but when he did he raised his free arm, holding the phone down at Her perfect face, and took a photo. It might be fucking creepy, he might be getting weird looks from the Pussy Brigade, but Ben didn’t give a single fuck. If She ever decided to leave him, if he had to let Her go, at least he’d have a memory of this. Of Her just needing him, just wanting him.

Something of Her, forever.

End Note: My wife (Victoria Neuman) is home from war (s4 of the Boys)

Thank you guys for 100 followers!!! I want to do something but have literally no clue what. If you want to throw a snack into my writer enclosure, leave a comment with any thoughts or jokes or angry words for me about cockblocking our favorite horny idiots again. And if not just being here is always more than enough!

Taglist

@lordofthunderthr @kritara @sukunassfinger, @justiceforquentin @acciditties

@c1gs-coffee @manicjk @artemys-ackles, @a-cup-of-nightshade, @bitchykittenconnoisseur

@fghj18 @n-o-p-e-never @deanspinsterwitchs-readinglist @marisha-3 @stvrniolo

@deansbbyx @s0urw00lf @ciuguapa @ilyaasansaif @whimsicalcherry

215 notes · View notes

lostinlads · 2 months ago

Text

Meet The Leader Of Onychinus

Synopsis: After days of being locked up in the base of the man wo had taken you from your home, you finally are summoned to meet him. Little do you know it is so much worse than you imagined. You're in the base of the criminal organization, Onychinus.

Tags: sylus x femme!reader, MDNI IF YOU ARE A MINOR YOU WILL BE BLOCKED, mc is really going through it, mentions of guns, mentions of kidnapping, your first few days at onychinus, sylus is rough with you, angst, hurt no comfort

Words: 2.7k

an: Firstly i want to thank all of you for how much love this fic has gotten so far, i honestly didnt expect any of this so im kinda in shock??? But really, thank you. Ive been sitting on this idea for a little over a month now and im finally getting around to working it out for all of you!! but i hope you enjoy this chapter! its a tad longer than the first, once i find my footing in writing again maybe ill make them longer but this is what i worked up for now!! Also as always if you see any mistakes please let me know!

ao3 | Chapter List | kofi

The N109 Zone has kept you in near complete darkness for days. You didn't know how long you spent in this room, door locked from the outside, no way to leave; but it felt like a lifetime already. You were grateful for the ensuite bathroom, the sink enough to satisfy your thirst, but the small amount of food left for you on the desk was a reminder that it was just enough to keep you alive. A small box of crackers and a handful of granola bars didn't satisfy the hunger in your stomach.

Sleep has eluded you, no matter how much you tried, it barely came. When it did, you were restless - tossing and turning for a few hours until you rose again. Dreams filled with terrifying crimson eyes and vast darkness. The constant blackness didn't help, not knowing the time of day or how long you had been here made your unease crawl under your skin. Your time spent by laying around and watching out the window for any signs of anything, but everything stayed still.

The house had been quiet, soft shuffling of the maid could be heard through the door at times, but other than that there was nothing. Were you the only one here? Where did the twins and that man go? Maybe the thought of leaving you here to starve to death hadn't been too extreme, seeing that no one had come to check on you since the moment you arrived. Kieran and his twin tossing your bag in the room and shutting it tight behind you, the unmistakable sound of the lock latching closed.

You often found yourself imagining what would've happened if you were strong enough to fight back, strong enough to get away from the entire situation. How could this have happened? Your father? The only family you have, selling you off to a criminal for payment. It didn't feel real. If things had been different, if you had gotten away, maybe you'd be somewhere else by now. Hiding out in the depths of Linkon, or maybe at the beach.

A single sharp knock brought your mind back, your heart speeding up in your chest as you stand from the plush bed. The door unlocked and opened; familiar crow masks meet your gaze as they both stand in the doorway.

"Boss wants to see you now," One spoke, stepping forward into the room. The wide space receding at his presence, shrinking the room by tenfold as your hands shake. Reluctantly, you step forward, surrendering yourself to them to take you to their boss. His hand curls around your arm as he leads you out, his twin mirroring his actions. They lead you through the massive house, warm, dim light illuminating the halls as you pass. The thought occurs, that it wouldn't matter if they held you, you wouldn't make it out of this maze of a building alone.

Rounding a corner, you are pulled down a long hallway. A brilliant, massive door stands before you, intricate wood carvings dance up the length like vines. Two brass door handles twinkle in the dim light, glistening like a prize. But beyond that door, whatever was waiting for you, is anything but.

With each step, you could feel his presence looming - his power consuming. If only you could run, save yourself from the torture you were about to endure. The anticipation eating you alive, steeling you for any abuse about to come.

The twins reach out, hands curling around both handles before swinging the wide, heavy doors open.

If it hadn't been a few sconces on the wall, barely illuminating the room, you would've guessed it had been abandoned. But at the far end, a chair sat, large enough to be called a throne. And perched on it, with crossed legs and his head in his hand, the man who had taken you from your home. From your life.

Candlelight flickered over his strong features; you couldn't make out if he was pissed or simply bored. You didn't want to find out. But caught like his prey, you were immobilized, arms wrapped in two strong hands holding them firmly at your sides. Is this what it feels like to be a hare, staring down the throat of a looming wolf, about to be consumed? You wouldn't doubt if he could hear your beating heart from across the room, the way his eyes stayed glued to your form.

"You can go," You flinch, the deep voice echoing in the large space. Within a second the hands drop from you, the twins turning and leaving. You didn't watch them, couldn't even lift your head from the floor. Stay still, stay quiet. Stay complicit and maybe you would survive this.

Silence so deafening as the room settles around the two of you, his eyes burning holes into your flesh as neither of you move. Was he waiting for you? Were you supposed to speak? You ball your fists at your side, closing your eyes as you take a deep breath. The feeling of dread never leaving, maybe this is where you die? He had his fun, leaving you to go insane as you stayed locked away, now this is his real show. Ripping you apart, shooting you, stabbing you. Anything.

"Apologies for my lack of manners," He finally spoke, his words feeling like a blow to your stomach as you breathe out. You don't meet his gaze, eyes still screwed shut. "I had some... business to attend to for a few days. But now that I have returned," He pauses, something touches you and you jump, eyes flinging open as you see tendrils of red and black mist curl around you before locking around your wrists, drawing them together in a bruising grip. You cry out, a soft mewl as you try to pull away. "We have some business to attend to ourselves."

"I... Please, I'll do anything just don't hurt me," You whimper out, tears already threatening to leave your tired eyes. You look at him, finally. Seeing those blood red eyes on you again brought a chill down your spine.

"Then don't make me," His words matter of fact. He dropped his hand from his head as his other rose up, more mist shooting across the room before it tightened around your waist. Next thing you know you're being pulled across the room at lightning speed, your hair flying behind you as the air gets knocked from your lungs. You prepare for impact, maybe a wall or a floor, but it never comes. You're delicately placed on his lap, strong thighs under yours as you blink, trying to understand what happened. Your wrists are still bound, the grip of the mist never wavering.

"Please..." You whisper again, wanting this cat and mouse game to end. Just get it over with, for him to stop toying with you. You almost don't see it, a small tick of his lips upward in a smirk for just a second.

"I need to make sure you won't disobey me," He leans back, resting in his throne as if this is the most normal situation in the world. "I know your power; how strong it can be. How strong you can make me." A crease forms between his brows.

"Y-yes," You stutter out, a tear slipping from your eye.

"I have got to say, Kitten," He smirks again at the nickname, your gut turning in response. "If I train you right, you will be my most powerful weapon." His hand comes up, you flinch away, eyes closing as you turn your head waiting for a blow. But his long fingers brush against your cheek, tucking your hair behind your ear.

"But," He speaks again. "I don't know if I can trust you yet." His words lower to a whisper, the closeness and how quiet his voice became felt like this whole scene was more intimate than you wanted. He was toying with you, you knew this. Kneading you like dough before tossing you in the oven to bake you alive. Trust? You? He could kill you without thought and he is worried about trusting you? Maybe he is planning on whipping you to submission, breaking you to the point you can no longer do anything but be used by him. The though made you want to puke. You needed to think, work a plan to lessen your sentence in this hell so the pain wouldn't be so bad.

"Maybe you could trust me if I can trust you in return," You try your hardest to speak with confidence. He cocks an eyebrow at you, tilting his head slightly. "I mean," Your words rush out, grasping at anything to delay the inevitable. "I don't even know your name..." You whisper out. He laughs, his hot breath fanning over your face.

"You can call me Sylus."

"Sylus," You repeat, nodding your head once.

"And I'm the leader of Onychinus," He watched in amusement as the realization washed over you, the candlelight flickering off of his features making his face look like some kind of monster. Face dropping as your pulse quickened at that one word. Onychinus. The most dangerous criminal organization in the N109 Zone. And here you were, caught in the trap of the leader, sitting on his lap at his base. The nausea returned, your stomach turning as your mouth flooded with saliva. There really was no hope for you, you were royally fucked.

"O-Onychinus," You breathe out, your vision tunneling as your pulse pounded in your veins. Sylus's lips curled up in an evil smile, his eyes dancing between yours.

"That's right, Kitten. That Onychinus." You try to swallow, the lump in your throat so large you almost choke. "Your - lovely - father had been playing too many games down in The N109 Zone and found himself in the palm of my hand." He held out his large hand, as if to demonstrate. "Having the right-hand man to the mayor of Linkon as your client is only as useful as any lowlife is. But the more money he owed the more I got fed up with is useless promises and his pathetic excuses. But luckily, he offered me you." His fingers curl into his palm, except his index which he pointed at your chest. "And that ticking little bomb in your chest." Almost as if on cue, your heart sped impossibly faster as he tapped on it twice.

"So," He pulled away, leisurely resting back in the chair. "I don't really care if you trust me. I just need to make sure that you don't get any silly ideas of escaping or trying to take me down from the inside out. I own you now, there's no where you can run to, Kitten." He looked away, boredom coating his features again as his eyes trailed past you. You couldn't do anything other than stare at his haunting face. How could you run? The leader of Onychinus surely had more surveillance than you could ever imagine. And taking him down? You barely had enough energy to even sit here.

"I won't," You promise weakly, your words a breathless whisper as your eyes stay trained on his face. Your fists ball, muscles tensing against the tight ring of mist. The pressure straining against your pulse.

His eyes drift back to yours, a hand lifting from the arm of the chair. You watch more of the black and red smoke flow from thin air. It grazes your arm; you fight against a wince as it trails down to your still conjoined wrists. The link holding them together snaps as the tendril loops around one, firm but not suffocating like before. It lifts it, hand facing the ceiling as it continues to coil around your skin like a snake. Even though you wanted to, you couldn't deny how sensual the act felt.

"Let's try something, then," Sylus purrs, sending a shiver down your spine and drawing your eyes back to his face. His intense gaze flickering between your eyes as the corner of his lips draw up into a smirk. The confused heart in your chest sped faster, at the anticipation or how intimate the setting has become? You weren't sure.

His long fingers traced up your inner forearm, gliding up to your wrist in a delicate touch as goosebumps rose in its wake, drawing a gasp from your lips. You watch as Sylus's fingers push yours open, splayed wide before his thread through yours.

HIs words ring in your ears from days prior. He doesn't do that. But here he is now, you nestled on his large thighs as his hand intwines with yours. Maybe it had been a front, a shoe so no one knows what he really does with his toys.

But to your surprise his hand tightens, an almost crushing grip before you feel the all too familiar pull of your evol. Power being pulled from deep inside your core as he tries to draw it out. But your head swirled, blood rushing as you cry out.

"Stop, please," You cry, trying to pull your hand from his. The grip only tightened as the crease between his brows returned with a scowl.

"Not so fast," He gritted between his teeth. Sylus pushes harder, eyes closing in an attempt to focus on waking your evol. White, hot pain bloomed in your throbbing head, making a sob rip from your chest.

"I c-can't! Please, Sylus, I can't!" You plead out again, your free hand coming to cradle your skull. His eyes snap open, washing over your features before letting your hand fall with a scoff.

"You're lucky I don't like picking on the weak, Kitten," He seethed. Your eyes screw shut, other hand coming to your head as you try your hardest to will the pain away. Your body weak with hunger and exhaustion, you didn't care if he killed you for not resonating with him, you almost hoped he would, anything to stop this burning pain.

Sylus shifted under you, but you didn't care, praying he was reaching for a gun to end this never-ending nightmare. But a minute later the tendrils enveloped you again. The feeling of Sylus's thighs left you as your body was placed onto the hard, cold floor.

He didn't speak, you don't know if he was sitting and watching you writhe in pain or focused on another point in the room. Wishing you were a stronger person, you'd curse him out, spit in his face and scream at him for causing you so much pain. But the only thing you could manage was a weak sob.

The twin heavy doors sounded behind you; two boot clad footsteps grew louder until they stopped next to you.

"Take her to her room. We're done here," Sylus spoke, his voice cold as stone.

"Yes, Boss," The twins obeyed, their hands returning around your arms slowly lifting you from the floor to your feet. you couldn't help but note that their touch was cautious, almost caring, as they paused to help you figure out your footing.

Once steady, they lead you down the winding, confusing maze that was the base of Onychinus in silence until you reach the door that contained your prison cell. Kieran releases your arm as he steps forward, clasping the knob before opening the door.

If his twin hadn't been holding onto you, you would've collapsed at the sight before you. Large boxes lined the room, a few smaller ones resting on the plush bed. If it hadn't been for the dove plush sitting atop of one, you wouldn't know what the contents would be. But you remember that same dove sitting on your bed at home. These were your things, your beloved belongings. A splash of color against the dim, dark area you had spent your last days. A sense of familiarity, a sense of home. Safety.

Kieran's twin lets you go, your feet wasting no time to move beneath you, drawing you further into the room. Your shaking hands reach out, reaching or the dove, almost needing to confirm that this is real. Your hands grasp it, not wasting any time to pull it to your heaving chest as a soft, relieved sob slips past your lips. You turn around and face the two masked men watching from the doorway.

"Thank you," Two simple words fall from your mouth, but they nod, understanding before they shut the door, leaving you some peace.

Knees hitting the wooden floor beneath you as you collapse. Uncontrollable sobs shaking out of your weak body.

142 notes · View notes

soaps-mohawk · 2 months ago

Text

His

Kyletober Day 16: Gore

Summary: You took him home from the bar months ago. Little did you know he’s been watching you since then.

Pairing: Vampire!Kyle x reader

Word Count: 4,829 words

Warnings: Dead Dove, NSFW, 18+, noncon, nonconsensual sex, unprotected sex, rough sex, gore, copious amounts of blood, on screen murder, fucking in blood, fucking next to a dead body, obsession and stalking, vampire!Kyle, biting, fatal injuries, death, mutilation, Kyle is not a good guy, vampire turning,

A/N: Please, please heed the warnings. This is a very dark fic and will be triggering to some.

MASTERLIST

The wall is rough against your back, but you don’t care. Your mind is too far gone with the way his cock is spearing you open with every snap of his hips against yours. He’s big, but he is a very large man, so it’s not surprising. He’s longer than he is thick, not your preference, but you can’t complain. He knows what he’s doing.

You hadn’t even made it to the bed, far too eager to wait that long. You’re not even fully undressed either, your underwear hastily shoved to the side, tits hanging out of the top of your shirt where he’d pulled it down to suck on them. He’s got you folded in half up against the wall, legs thrown over his arms as he bucks up into you. He made you cum in the uber home from the pub, his hand up your skirt as you tried to make small talk with the driver.

You can’t remember his name, or even where he’s from. Germany maybe? Austria? He told you, but you had been too distracted by the impressive bulge pushed up against your ass. You like big men. You like to be roughed up a bit.

“Fuck, yes!” You moan, your head thudding back against the wall as you grip his shoulders. He’d removed his shirt, his pants down around his ankles. Had you been more interested in him beyond just a good fuck, you might have been tempted to lick the thick muscles of his chest.

“Just like that.” He groans, pinning you harder against the wall, his eyes glued down where his cock is snapping in and out of you. “Cum for me.”

Your body shudders as you get closer and closer to the edge, squeezing around his cock. He lets out a string of curses in multiple languages, his thrusts getting faster and faster. He’s desperate, chasing his own orgasm.

You’re right there, right on the precipice of pleasure...when suddenly you’re falling, landing on your hip on the hardwood floor. “What the fuck?”

You sit up, wincing at the sharp pain before turning to look. Your one night stand is on the floor, a dark figure leaning over him. He’s thrashing and struggling, but despite his size, the smaller form bent over him seems to have him pinned. Fear seizes you as your one night stand lets out a guttural, gargling yell. The figure over him begins to straighten up, blood cascading from his face as skin, muscle, and tendons string between his mouth and your one night stand’s neck.

He just ripped his throat open with his teeth.

Oh fuck.

You scramble back in fear, reality starting to settle in as the wet choking sounds fill the air. Your one night stand is dying on the floor. There’s a killer in your one night stand’s bedroom.

Your bare feet fight to find purchase under you on the wood, your limbs shaking as adrenaline begins to pump through your body. You need to run, you need to get out, but he’s blocking the door. Your one night stand’s body is blocking the door.

The window.

It’s behind you. If you can just get it open and scream then maybe the neighbors will call the police. You scramble towards it, your fingers fumbling against the old wood windowsill as you finally get yourself up on your feet. You curse the sticky old frame as you push it open just enough to push your body through the opening and scream. You try to pull yourself out of the window and onto the awning above the front door, continuing to scream for help. It’s a long drop, but it’s better than whatever the killer in your one night stand’s home must have planned for you.

A hand closes around your ankle, tugging you back into the room with surprising strength. Your head smacks against the bottom of the window as you’re yanked back, stunning you. You hit the floor, slightly dazed as you reach back to touch the throbbing spot on the back of your head.

No blood, which is a good sign.

You’ll have a lump there later.

The window slams closed, almost shuddering in the frame from the force of it. You begin to panic as your senses come back, your brain finally catching up as you stare at the dark figure looming over you. There’s something dripping onto you, splattering against your exposed skin.

You go to let out another scream but he’s on you, covering your mouth with a gloved hand. The sour metallic scent of blood fills your nose, making you gag. Whoever the intruder is, he’s strong, pinning you to the floor easily.

“That’s enough of that.” He says, his voice soft. You might have found it comforting, had he not just murdered someone.

You recognize that voice, though. You’ve heard it before.

You try to think back, your hazy fear-addled brain fighting to dig up memories. You stare up at the intruder, up into those soft dark eyes. They’re gazing at you softly, almost affectionately.

You remember that look.

Kyle.

The name comes out muffled behind the hand over your mouth, your mind reeling. You met him in a bar months ago, charmed by his beauty and his chivalry. You went home with him, had the ride of your life, and then left before he woke up as usual. You only remember him because he showed up at your door a few times. It had seemed odd at the time that he knew where you lived, but you had brushed it off. You’ve dealt with clingy one night stands before, but he seemed to be insistent. He called you several times (where he got your number you’re not sure), showed up with flowers and chocolates and gifts. It took a few times, but your repeated rejections finally got through to him and he disappeared from your life.

Or so you thought.

Now he’s here, looming over you after just killing your one night stand.

You try to scream again, but you can’t. Your throat is frozen, the sound stuck in your chest. No matter how hard you push, you can’t get a single sound out.

“That’s a good girl.” Kyle praises you, stroking your cheek gently. He leaves a trail of wetness where his fingers stroke your skin, the metallic scent of blood still strong in your nose. “Didn’t have to go making that ruckus, love. Neighbors aren’t home.”

That’s impossible. Someone has to be home.

Unless he killed all of them too.

The thought has you gagging.

“Easy.” Kyle soothes you, still stroking your skin. His eyes aren’t locked on yours, no instead he’s staring down at your cheek where his fingers almost tenderly stroke your skin. “You don’t have to be afraid.”

Your eyes dart over to where your one night stand is laying eerily still. He’s dead. You know it. There’s far too much blood pooling on the hardwood floors for him to still be alive. Tears fill your eyes as your heart begins to pound again. There’s a dead body on the floor. The man over you that had, at one point, also been a one night stand just killed someone.

You want to scream.

You can’t.

Kyle tsks, gripping your chin roughly before turning your face back to his. There’s blood on his skin, streaked around his mouth and down his neck. He ripped someone’s throat out with his teeth.

The tears start falling as you stare up at him.

“Why?” You choke out. So you can still speak at least.

“I had to get your attention somehow.” He says, the floor creaking as he plants his other hand beside your head, leaning his weight on it. He’s looming over you like a hungry wolf that just caught a rabbit in its claws. “I want you. Have, for a long time. After you kept rejecting me, I knew I had to take a different route.”

“Killing someone?” You stare at him in disbelief.

“Several someones.” He says casually, like he’s discussing the weather not admitting to murder. “Some of your lovely one night stands got into some...unfortunate accidents.”

You remember. Or, at least, you remember a couple. You heard about them on social media, how a couple of men you recognized had died in rather brutal ways. It made you sad in the way that hearing about a strangers’ passing does, but that’s all they were. Strangers. Just a one night stand to fulfill a need. You don’t even remember their names.

“Here and there,” Kyle continues. “Couldn’t have the police getting too suspicious. Not that they’d bother trying to connect the deaths.” His hand finally releases your chin, trailing down your neck. His fingers push against your pulse, feeling the rapid beat of your heart under his fingers. “So scared.” He coos, his hand settling on your throat. Is he going to rip yours out too as some kind of revenge for rejecting him? “You have nothing to be scared of.”

You almost laugh.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” He says, sitting back up on his knees over you. His fingers trail over your chest, your tits still hanging out of your shirt. His fingers pause between them and you hold your breath, waiting for his next move. “If I wanted to, I would have already.”

“Then what is it you want?” You ask, your breath catching in your chest as his fingers curl around your shirt.

“I told you already.” He says, ripping your shirt down the middle easily. “You.” His hands close over your breasts, making you whimper. You should fight, you should struggle, yet you can’t. You’re frozen in fear. “This could have been easy, if you had just accepted my advances when I was offering kindly. But unfortunately,” He squeezes your breasts almost painfully. “No matter the century, whores are always the same.”

Tears prick your eyes from the sharp bite of his words. A sob leaves your lips as he releases your breasts, his hands starting to slide lower. “Please,” you whisper, your hands lifting to grip his wrists. His skin is cold to the touch, almost shockingly so. You hadn’t noticed until now, your mind finally starting to wake up from your fear-induced haze.

“There’s no stopping this.” He says, gripping the scraps of your shirt and pulling. The thin straps pop with almost no resistance, leaving your top half bare. You reach up, covering your body in shame, something you’ve never felt before in this position. Then again, you’ve never quite been in this position before. “This was always going to happen. It’s been in motion since that night you came home with me from the bar.”

Of course with your luck you’d sleep with an absolute psycho at some point.

You need to get away from here. You need to escape somehow, you need to get out of the house and onto the street, flag down a car, something. Your phone is in your purse downstairs, dropped hastily by the door. If you can reach it, you can call for help. Where are you, though? You had been too distracted to pay attention to directions and where you were headed.

Stupid, stupid girl.

You knew this lifestyle would come back to bite you eventually.

Your hands push against Kyle’s chest as he leans down, folding his body over yours. “No, no.” You gasp, panic starting to flood you. You know what he’s going to do. You know what it is he wants. Maybe if you just let him take it, it’ll all be over.

You doubt he’ll let you walk away after witnessing him kill someone.

Maybe you’re next after he takes what he wants.

Your efforts are fruitless as he presses his body against yours, his hand gripping your chin to force your head to the side. His face presses against your throat, and you can feel the coolness of his breath as he exhales against your skin. He’s...smelling you.

“You smell so good.” He groans, his cool tongue dragging against your neck. “Your fear is so sweet.”

You’re staring right at the body of your now deceased one night stand. His face is turned away from you, but you can see the wound on his neck, the mess of mangled anatomy revealed by the shredded skin.

He did that with his teeth.

He’s got his teeth at your throat.

Another sob tears from your lips as they scrape your skin, the tears blurring the image of the dead body as you wait for your inevitable end. He’s going to kill you in the same way. Will you even know what’s happening? Or will your mind numb you to it as you bleed out quickly?

His body pushes against yours as you struggle, your fists driving into his body but he doesn’t even seem phased. His hand leaves your chin to sink into your hair, pulling your head back. Something sharp pricks against the skin of your throat, your entire body freezing in fear.

What was that?

Kyle lifts his face from your throat, turning your head so you’re looking up at him.

You want to scream, but all that comes out is a choking sound.

His eyes have turned from their normal dark brown to blood red. His lips pull back in a grin from your horrified expression, revealing a mouth full of sharp teeth. Your breath catches in your throat, your lungs burning as you forget how to breathe.

He looks like...a vampire.

He lets out a chuckle as you stare up at him in terror, your brain piecing together everything. His ability to rip a throat out with his teeth so easily, his strength, the way he killed those men so easily, the way he’s probably been watching you and stalking you for months, the reason you can’t scream anymore...

“But...but...” The words fall from your trembling lips as you stare up at him, the fear and shock almost choking you. “V-Vampires aren’t real.”

“Just because you don’t know about something doesn’t make it not real.” He says, his tone almost condescending. “We are very real.” He says, pressing his body down against yours again, using the hand in your hair to keep your head still as he presses his face into your throat again.

Your hands are going numb as you lay there in shock, the fear almost coming to be too much. You wish you’d pass out, then maybe you’d die without even realizing it.

Pain erupts in your neck, another choked sound leaving you in place of a scream. Your body comes back to life as you struggle, trying to hit Kyle in an attempt to get free. You know what’s happening. You know what he’s doing.

He’s biting you.

He pulls his head back from your throat, wetness dripping across your skin as he stares down at you. He’s hard, his bulge pressing against your thigh. He licks his lips, cleaning the blood staining them. There’s a wet feeling slipping down your skin, your head starting to spin.

Kyle is a vampire.

Kyle just bit you.

“Delicious.” Kyle groans, flashing you a grin before dipping his head down again.

Pain erupts on the side of your breast, your head lifting to stare down at where Kyle’s mouth is suckling at the tender skin. Blood seeps out from under his lips, running hot down your skin.

He’s feeding on you.

His hands pin your arms before they can move far off the floor, his body weight settling even more on top of you to keep you still. He continues to suckle at the side of your breast, more and more blood seeping out and staining your skin. He stares up at you with those red eyes, your brain starting to get fuzzy. He’s going to kill you. He’s going to drink every last drop and leave you a bloodless shell.

Your skin stings when he pulls away from your breast, blood nearly gushing out of the bite mark he’s left behind. It’s jagged and has left your skin mangled from his mouth full of sharp teeth. Kyle groans, licking the blood from his lips again. Your blood is dripping down his chin and neck now, mixing with the dried blood from your one night stand.

“What a delectable dessert after my meal.” He says, grinning wickedly down at you.

“Please,” You breathe, tears sliding down your cheeks. You don’t want to die. That fear has started to bubble in you as your head continues to swim. You’re losing blood, the warm liquid from the wound on your neck still sliding across your skin. There’s no running for help now. You’re not even sure you could make it down the street.

Kyle sits up on your thighs, trailing his fingers through the blood still seeping out of the wound on your breast. “Don’t worry.” He says, drawing a circle around your belly button. “I’m just getting started.”

“Please don’t.” You beg as he slips his fingers under the waistband of your skirt, toying with the fabric for a moment before tearing it just as easily as your shirt.

His fingers trail over the lace covering your last bit of dignity, smearing blood across the delicate fabric. It pops as he tugs it off, his body shifting so he can part your legs. You kick out at him, managing to land a solid hit to the side of his head. His eyes darken as he catches your ankle, the instincts in the back of your mind telling you to run from the danger in front of you.

If only you could.

He pulls your leg to the side almost painfully before diving down, sinking his teeth into your inner thigh. You let out a choked sound as he breaks through the thin, sensitive skin. Panic is filling you as he continues to drink from you, adrenaline forcing you into fight or flight as you try to wiggle out of his grasp. Pain burns from your inner thigh as your struggle causes his teeth to tear at your skin. He’ll take a chunk out if you’re not careful, but you don’t care. You’re in a fight to survive now.

There has to be something you can use to distract Kyle long enough to make a getaway, or at least to reach your phone. Your one night stand has to have something on him. A pocket knife, a bottle opener on his keys. Hell, even just his keys would be useful right now.

You need to start carrying something in your purse to defend yourself with besides just your keys.

Another choked sound leaves your lips as you attempt to scream, sharp pain erupting from your thigh. Kyle sits up, a piece of flesh between his teeth. Your flesh. You stare in horror as he grabs it, tossing it next to you on the floor.

“You’re lucky.” Kyle says, ignoring your sobs as he presses his fingers into your wound. “I just missed the artery.” There’s no warmth, no fake softness to his voice now. It’s deeper, screaming danger at you. He’s done with your fighting, done trying to play this game the nice way.

Your fight to survive has awakened the predator.

Kyle’s hand sinks into your hair again, tugging you so you’re sitting up. He stares down at you with those red eyes, blood seeping out from between his teeth. “You’re not being very cooperative.” He says, staring down at you like you’re a disobedient child as he holds you there. “I’d hate for this to end before we’ve even begun.”

“Fuck you!” You spit, ignoring the pulsing pain in your thigh and the blood gushing out onto the floor.

“That’s not very nice.” He scolds you. He glares down at you, his grip on your hair painful. “This hasn’t been as easy as I hoped it might be.” He tosses you onto the floor, your elbow knocking against the wood painfully. “We’ll have to teach you a lesson first.”

You scramble away in your moment of freedom as he releases you, dragging yourself across the wood towards the dead body. A knife, keys, anything you can use. You just need something.

You slip in the puddle of blood, sending droplets everywhere as you drop flat on your stomach. You hiss at the pain in your shoulder but keep on, crawling your way towards the body. Hell, you’ll take his belt right now.

A hand wraps around the ankle of your injured leg, tugging you back away from the body. You leave a streak of blood on the floor, a mix of yours and your deceased one night stand’s.

“What exactly is your plan?” Kyle asks, gripping your hips. He pins you down onto the floor, pushing your thighs apart with his knee. “Run? Just how far do you think you’ll get like this?” He folds his body over yours, pinning you against the floor. “This was inevitable.” He breathes in your ear, dragging his tongue across the shell of it.

“Fuck you!” You spit, wiggling against him. He’s removed his clothes, naked against your body. He’s hard, his cock pushing against your ass. “Sick fuck.”

“If I’m the sick one, then why are you wet?” He smirks.

You’ve never cursed your reactive body more than you do right now.

He chuckles, lifting himself just enough to push his cock against your pussy. Your nails sink into the wood as he sinks into you, dropping his weight back onto you.

“Fucking love this pussy.” He groans, snapping his hips against your ass. “Been thinking about this for months.”

Tears blur your eyes as you lay there, the stench of blood filling your nose. Your skin is covered in it, your wounds still slowly seeping blood. Your body aches as he fucks you, wasting no time with foreplay. You’re almost thankful for the large size of your now deceased one night stand. Kyle isn’t nearly as big as he was. At least you got some sort of prep.

The fight is starting to leave you as the adrenaline begins to wear off. You’re giving up, accepting your fate as you’re forced to endure this. There’s no getting out. There’s no running. This is your fate.

It was bound to happen eventually.

Kyle flips you over, more blood splattering as you hit the puddle on the floor. It has coated your skin, leaving a sticky feeling everywhere. Your head is still spinning, blood still pulsing out of the wound in your leg. The chunk of flesh is still on the floor, just visible when you look down. It nearly makes you vomit, a gagging sound leaving your lips as Kyle continues to thrust into you.

“Don’t.” He growls, gripping your chin. There’s blood all over him too, staining that perfect skin. He was so perfect, too perfect. You should have known, you should have been able to tell.

It’s always the perfect ones.

The urge to vomit subsides, your awareness returning as Kyle drags his fingers down your body, pushing on the wound on your chest. You whimper at the sharp pain, the pressure causing more blood to ooze out of the bite mark. Kyle’s hands travel lower, his nails sinking into the skin under your breasts. It hurts, burning pain erupting as his fingers scratch down your stomach. You let out a choked noise, wanting to scream but you still can’t.

His nails sink into your hips, his hands propping them up as he continues to thrust into you, grunting in pleasure. You’re far away from your body, staring up at the ceiling. There’s blood up there, a few droplets staining the white paint. How it managed to get all the way up there, you might never know.

Pleasure starts to burn through you as Kyle’s fingers push against your clit, rubbing tight circles over the sensitive bud. You hate your responsive body as you flutter around him, your mind coming back to the reality of what’s happening. You’re going to cum, you can’t help it. Not with the way he’s touching you.

Quiet moans leave your lips as he angles his thrusts against that spot inside of you. He drives his tip right up against it, sending pleasure coursing through your veins. Your back arches, a long moan leaving your lips as it nearly blinds you, your orgasm slamming into you. It’s only the second time you’ve cum tonight after being denied an orgasm earlier.

Before he killed your one night stand.

Kyle slams his hips against you, cumming inside of you with a growl. You barely notice, focused on the blood on the ceiling. That’s going to be hard to clean up. The whole room is going to be hard to clean up. The blood is soaking into the hardwood. Maybe he’ll leave the body there to be discovered later. Does your dead one night stand have family? Will the neighbors eventually notice? Who’s going to find him? A wife maybe? It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve fucked a married man.

There was that one time you got caught. It had been just as much of a shock to you...

Kyle leans his body down over yours, pressing you into the floor again. You lay there limply, defeated. There’s no escape any more. Your left leg feels numb and useless, pain still pulsing from your wound in time with your heart.

Anger burns inside of you as he begins pressing gentle kisses to your skin. It’s far too tender of an action for what’s happened, for what’s transpiring. He shouldn’t get that right to treat you so tenderly after what he just did. You lift your hands, your nails sinking into his shoulders. It doesn’t phase him in the slightest, but it makes you feel better. Your eyes lock onto his neck right in front of your face. You’re not sure if you can kill him. How does one kill a vampire? Well, it depends on the kind of vampire. You don’t think there’s any silver laying around. Would it even affect him or is that a myth?

You have to try anyway. If nothing else, it’ll make your death more satisfying if you can hurt him.

You sink your teeth into the side of his neck, biting as hard as you possibly can. The flesh gives away, blood seeping into your mouth but you don’t care. You grip his skin with your mouth, pulling your head back. His skin peels away with your mouth, blood starting to pour from the wound as you take a chunk of his neck with you as you flop back onto the floor. You turn your head, spitting the skin off to the side before you stare up at him. Blood is splattering on your skin from his wound, an almost amused look on his face as he stares down at you.

“Have fun with that?” He asks, and you want to bite him again from that smug tone. His blood is in your mouth, coating your tongue. It’s metallic and sour, but you can’t bring yourself to care. You’re going to die soon anyway. Might as well die satisfied that you hurt him.

He hums, sliding his hand around the back of your neck, blood still dripping onto your face from his wound. His hand squeezes the back of your neck, making you gasp in pain. Blood drips into your mouth but you can’t stop it, the pain of his hand squeezing making you grimace and gasp in pain.

His gaze is hard as he stares down at you, the hand on the back of your neck forcing your head to the side. His teeth close around the side of your neck. You can hardly feel the pain anymore in your dazed state as he bites you again. He pulls his head back, pieces of your flesh dangling from his teeth. Your body goes cold as blood spurts out of the wound. You’re dying. This is it. This is the end.

“Fuck you.” You choke out, your eyes fluttering as your vision swims.

He chuckles, leaning down to cup your cheek. “You already did.” He grins. “This isn’t the end. You have my blood in your body. You’re going to turn. Then you will be mine for all of eternity.” He sits up straight, staring down his nose at you. “We’re going to have so much fun.”

Your vision is going dark as you stare up at him, a demonic visage soaked in your blood and the blood of the body behind you. His red eyes glare down at you as you take your final, gurgling breaths. This isn’t the end, it’s only the beginning. Death would have been a comfort, a mercy.

You want to scream.

How you wish you could scream.

To be notified about new fics, please follow HERE and turn on notifications

#kyletober #Kyle gaz Garrick x reader #gaz x reader #Kyle Garrick x reader #kinktober 2024 #dark fic #call of duty fic #call of duty

133 notes · View notes

saiyanprincessswanie · 5 months ago

Text

Mine - Part 4

Pairing: Soft!Dark Steve Rogers x Female Reader

Word Count: 2643

Summary: Steve and Reader struggle with whether they can trust one another or not. Both have feelings but is it enough to forgive and start over? Will they be able to have the future they each dream of?

Series Warning: NON/DUB CON, Swearing, Angst, Possessive Behavior, Jealousy, Kidnapping, Male Masturbation, Somnophilia, Drugging, Light Bondage, Physical Fighting, Rough Sex, Choking, Female and Male Oral, Breeding Kink, Multiple Orgasms, Forced Orgasms, Spanking and Stockholm Syndrome

Please READ the Warnings!! These will be touched on throughout the series.

A/N: Sorry for the long wait with this fic. I just have recently been able to type again after my right shoulder surgery.

A/N 2: This chapter isn’t as dark as the other ones.

Moodboard by @fictional-affairs

Thank you to my beta readers @lfnr-blog-blog-blog & @pigwidgeonxo

Reblogs & Comments on Tumblr are welcomed and encouraged. Even if you leave an emoji you will make my day. 😊💜

I do NOT give my consent to have my work translated or reposted on any social media platform, apps, or third-party sites. If you see my work anywhere besides my personal Tumblr & AO3 accounts, it has been stolen. I will NEVER give written or verbal permission to repost or translate any of my fanfics as they’re MY intellectual property. 🚫 🚫

Time seemed to go by slowly as you sat in the bedroom window watching as Steve finished chopping up logs for the fireplace. A faint sound of thunder echoes throughout the room and little goosebumps rise on your skin. You snuggle into your hoodie to chase away a storm that is brewing not just outside but within you as well. Steve grabs a bunch of logs and starts heading to the house. Light rain falls from the sky covering the ground below. You hear the door open and close downstairs followed by him walking around.

The storm seems to pick up as the wind blows through the trees. You hear footsteps coming up the stairs and your hands start to fidget in your lap. Will he be in a good mood today? Your heart is beating faster and faster the closer his footsteps reach the door. Suddenly a key unlocks the door and you hold your breath. Which Steve will greet you today? The door creaks open and you sit as still as you can.

“Doll? I got a fire going in the fireplace and soup simmering on the stove. Why don’t you come join me?” His words held no authority in it but a simple request.

You slowly stand up and turn to face him, walking over to where he stood in the doorway. Your eyes glanced over him as he stood before you in a flannel shirt, jeans, and boots. He gives you his million-dollar smile and pulls you in for a hug. Closing your eyes you let him envelop you in his arms. Your arms wrap around his body and you just give in. A minute later he is taking your hand and walking you down the stairs.

The warmth from the fire hits you as soon as you descend the stairs. The smell of wood burning and soup filled the air as you took a deep breath in. Gosh if this was only a different time and place you would swear you were home.

Steve leads you over to the table and pulls your chair out for you. You offer a shy smile and thank him. Steve kisses the top of your head and walks the short distance to the kitchen where he can still see you.

Your eyes scan the dining room and kitchen. Steve was right, this is how you wanted your future house to look like. It’s as if he took all the ideas from your head and made it a reality. Everything in here was perfect except the man you once loved was a kidnapping, psychopath who had ripped away any trust you had in him. Tears lightly poured from your eyes and before you could do anything Steve was wiping them away.

You hadn’t noticed that he brought the soup over to the table. Instead, he kneels next to you and continues to wipe them away gently as he takes in your shaking body.

“Doll, what’s wrong? You know you can speak to me about anything, right?” His voice is laced with concern and his deep blue eyes stare at you taking everything in.

You shake your head as you continue to cry. What if you shared the truth about everything with him? Would he still carry out this twisted plan?

“Steve I can’t, I won’t share my thoughts cause you will just be mad at me. I don’t want to be humiliated again with your punishments. Let’s just eat and forget about it, okay?”

Steve just stared at you. He knew something was weighing on you but did he want the truth? What if it was about leaving could he keep his composure? He shook his head knowing that this was tearing you apart inside and being this nervous around him wasn’t healthy.

“Please, doll, I promise I won’t be upset with you. Just tell me the truth.” His hand caresses your cheek. “I swear I won’t punish you for being honest with me. All I want in this world is for you to be happy with me.”

Your gaze drops to your lap where your hands are and you take a deep breath trying to calm yourself. You look back up into his blue eyes and decide it is now or never.

“It’s not that easy Steve to tell you this. There is no question that before all of this, I loved you from the moment I met you. Your smile drew me in and I knew I was yours forever. At that time you would flirt but always held back with me like you were searching for something else or maybe someone else. That was until recently and your emotions shifted so quickly that I felt overwhelmed but excited that you finally wanted me. But that’s a lie 'cause you just want to breed me.”

Steve’s breath hitched and he was about to retort before you cut him off.

“That night we made love, I finally felt like my dreams were coming true and that maybe you had loved me all along. But that’s not the case. You said it yourself last night you want me to listen to you and not question anything you say. But how can I not question your behavior? You’re mean, and controlling and you have a device on me to keep my super soldier serum from working. You talked about how I broke your trust, have you ever considered that you shattered my trust with you? The love I once had for you is slowly falling apart and I don’t think I could ever love you under these circumstances.”

Steve listened as you poured your heart out. A part of him wanted to be angry about what you’re saying, while another part of him couldn’t believe that you were once in love with him. Once? Steve shook his head, maybe he was going about this in the wrong way. He never liked bullies and from what she is saying he sounded just like one.

“Steve trust goes both ways. If you want me to earn yours then you must earn mine as well. This dominant thing you’re doing over me won’t work if you want true love and a family one day. I’m pleading with you to stop this madness and let’s work on us before my love goes out like a flame never to be lit again.”

He takes a breath in and out trying to contain himself. Yes, he could see what she was saying about him. Steve did want her to make a family with but it was more than that. Little did she know he loved her the same, from the very beginning. He didn’t think for an instance that Tony would match them together in a million years, that’s why it never went beyond flirting. Steve took her hands in his and decided he needed to be honest.

“Look doll, I have loved you from the day we met. I never thought I would ever have a future with you. Not until Tony said we matched. I was so focused on finding the right woman who could have my children that I got blinded along the way. I’ve never wanted to hurt you nor do I plan on it. I just want a chance at us. For what could be? But it’s hard to trust your intentions after you tried to run away from me. How can I know if what you’re saying is the truth?” His eyes pleaded to hers as he searched her face for answers.

There is no way he loved her for that long. But, what if he is telling the truth? She closed her eyes and thought back to the beginning. Their awkward conversations, the silly jokes, him always complimenting her, the soft touches when no one looked and then it clicked. Her eyes opened wide and a tear fell from them again.

“I’m sorry I tried to run away but I was scared. I didn’t know what you wanted to do with me. You can believe this to be the truth. With how messed up this situation is I don’t want to be away from you. Look if we both try, maybe we can work towards trusting one another again. What do you say?”

Steve gave you that smile you always loved. He leaned in and gave you a soft kiss on your lips. “Let’s try again and work towards trusting one another. I promise to not harm you or take you against your will again. But know this, if you are lying to me you will know my wrath, and trust me when I say you haven’t seen the mean side of me yet.”

The last sentence sent chills through your body. By the way, he was looking at you, you swore there was something evil brewing. You kept telling yourself to relax and everything would be okay. If you did decide to run, the time had to be right. For now, your feelings were telling you to try things with Steve. What’s the worst that could happen?

The next morning you woke up to Steve cuddling you close and your legs tangled together. You had gone to bed in just his t-shirt and he slept naked. The rain had ended overnight and the sun was rising in the sky. You reflected on last night after you spoke your truth. Steve let you sit by the fireplace and read a book instead of locking you in the bedroom. It was a nice moment between the two of you when he sat on the other end of the couch with your legs in his lap.

Before bed, Steve had told you that tomorrow you both were going to try to start over again. That he would follow your lead on this while he learns to trust you again.

You smile to yourself as you soak up all the cuddles from him and let out a sigh of contempt. Just as you wiggle your butt from excitement you hear a groan behind you.

“Keep that up and I’m going to fill that pretty pussy.”

A giggle escaped your lips. “So what if I want you to?”

Steve’s eyes opened at that comment and he had a grin on his face. “Is that so?” He questioned.

When you wiggled again Steve quickly rolled you onto your back and parted your legs so he could now lay in between them. Steve pushed his shirt up and pulled it off quickly. He rubbed his cock against your already wet pussy. You couldn’t help but be excited cause you knew how well Steve was between the sheets. Steve’s cock started to get covered in your arousal and the tip of his cock kept nudging your entrance until finally, he slid home.

Both of you let out a groan once he was fully inside you. You wrap your legs around his waist and your hands claw at his back when he starts moving with hard thrusts. Your nails rake down his back with every thrust of his hips. Steve is on his forearms so he can kiss and swallow your moans. With every thrust, you moan and gasp in pleasure. He keeps a steady, hard pace and you end up squealing in pleasure as he hits a certain spot inside you that has you seeing stars. With every thrust, you’re getting closer and closer to your impending orgasm. Steve quickly scoops your legs up with both arms and pushes your legs to your chest deepening his thrusts.

Your fingernails scrape down his arms as you try to find a way to ground yourself from the pleasure he is giving you. Steve keeps thrusting into you harder and harder while he starts to play with your clit. It brings your orgasm to a peak as you scream his name into the abyss. Your pussy clenches down on his cock as he continues to plow into you. Once you come down from your high Steve pulls out of you and flips you over to your stomach. Pulling you to your knees he sinks back into your velvety walls and fucks you hard and fast as his fingers dig into your hips.

This is everything Steve has wanted from you. You're being submissive to him whether you realize it or not. Your head is on the bed, fists clenched into the sheets while you moan out incoherent words. He desperately wants to fill you up and breed you. He knows having a baby will link you two forever and the time to start that family is now.

The faster Steve is pounding into you the closer he is getting to his high but lord he needs you to cum one more time. His left-hand leaves your hip and his fingers move down to circle your clit again. All it takes is a few swipes and you're screaming his name to the heavens above. Your cunt grasps his cock and milks him dry as Steve cums deep inside you. His groans fill the air as he gives a couple more sloppy thrusts into you. Steve looks down on your spent form and leans over your back to kiss your shoulder.

Once he pulls out of you he goes to the bathroom to clean himself up before he returns to you with a washcloth. Gently he cleans you up and throws the washcloth in the laundry hamper. You’re completely exhausted and feel like you can barely move. If you had your super soldier serum running through your veins instead of suppressed you could have kept up with him, no problem. Now your body could just roll over to your back and look up at him.

He was smiling down at you looking like a man who just finished a successful mission. You lifted your arms a little to show him you wanted a hug. Steve lay next to you and brought you in for a hug. He held you close to his chest as you snuggled into him. Your cheek rubbed against his chest hair as you enjoyed this feeling of euphoria.

Maybe things could work out between you both and you could have a happy ending? It just depends on how Steve decides to treat you, like an object or someone to be loved unconditionally. You both promised to start over and this was the best way to show each other how much you loved one another. Hopefully, he will begin to trust you over time and maybe get your super soldier serum flowing through your veins again. I mean it’s not like he wants you like a regular woman, right? There is always going to be that adventurous side of you and you’re going to want a normal life that isn’t just sex. Though you had to admit this is the best sex you’ve had in your life. It’s everything you dreamed of minus the kidnapping part.

Steve kisses you on the forehead and groans as he stretches. “Why don’t we get in the shower and I will cook breakfast for you? I’m sure you’re hungry. What does my lovely doll want to eat?”

You smile up at him and answer, “Well I do have a craving for pancakes and you sure do make the best ones.”

Chuckling, Steve nods his head. “I can do that for you, doll.”

Steve rolls out of bed and pulls you to your feet. As you walk to the bathroom Steve slaps your butt playfully. “Though first, I think I need another round of you in the shower.”

You squeal in delight as you head to the bathroom. Maybe this could work, you think to yourself as the hot water sprays down on both of you. Today is a brand new day to figure out whatever it is between the two of you.

Taglist:

@americasass81

@astheskycries

@awesomerextyphoon

@caffiend-queen

@caplanbuckybarnes

@denisemarieangelina

@fictional-affairs

@georgiapeach30513

@get0verit

@hollybee8917

@joannie95

@jobean12-blog

@jtargaryen18

@jvanilly

@labella420

@lfnr-blog-blog-blog

@madscape

@mdemontespan1667

@missvelvetsstuff

@mrsmischief209

@mycrazyasslikestoread

@nekoannie-chan

@noellez-best-life23

@notyourtypicalrose

@patzammit

@princessofdarkwinter

@rayofdawnworld

@spectre-posts

@sweater-daddiesdumbdork

@talia-rumlow

@thefallenbibliophilequote

@what-is-your-plan-today

@wolfsmom1

#saiyanprincessswanie #missy writes #mine #dark steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #soft!dark steve rogers #soft!dark steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x f!reader #steve rogers x fem!reader #mine series #steve rogers fanfiction

173 notes · View notes

waywardsou2 · 4 months ago

Text

Drunk!Logan x Drunk!Male Reader

This was supposed to be kinda smutty but it ended up being kinda sad. If you want to see part two with some actual NSFW themes then let me know in the comments, because I feel like I can go somewhere with this.

Summary: Life is shitty being a mutant, and it's even shittier when you can't save everyone. So where do you turn? The bar, to drink away the pain and forget for a few hours. Unfortunately for you, someone decided to keep you company.

Word Count: 1k+

Tags: alcohol, bar fight, suicidal ideation, self-hate, self-esteem, worthlessness trauma

It had been a rough week, the missions got difficult and sacrifices had to be made. People were lost. But its part of the job right? That shit always happens. Well tonight you just couldn’t stand it, the knowing that there were people you couldn’t save. Families who were missing loved ones, because you weren’t fast enough.

It made you sad, but it mostly made you angry. At least that’s how you presented it to the world. And that’s how you presented it to Logan, the man who had followed you to the bar. You didn’t know why. If he cared, you didn’t want his pity. If he was here for a drink why couldn’t he have gone somewhere else.

Big scary Logan, The Wolverine. What did he need to sit here and drink about, especially where you were trying to get shit faced before you had to see Charles the next day.

“Can’t you drink somewhere else?” you say to him, your words already slurred from the bottle you had almost finished emptying.

“Nope” he said flatly as he sat down on the stool next to you, ordering a round of shots for himself.

You rolled your eyes, either this guy was dense or just an asshole.

“Oh Logan is too high and mighty to go drink somewhere else because I would rather get shit faced alone than with company” you say

The bar was empty, but it didn’t really matter much, you weren’t going to keep your voice down even if there were people in here. Something about him was just rubbing you the wrong way. You didn’t know whether it was the alcohol, the pain of your supressed emotions or just the fact that Logan never bat an eye at you despite how much you tried to show him you had value to the team.

“Yeah basically”

Your anger gets the better of you at his sarcasm and you shove him, he leans away, almost spilling his drink. He downs it and turns to you

“Are we gonna have a problem, bub?”

“I don’t know, are we?” you retort

“You want to do this here? Now?”

“What to scare to make a mess? Afraid you’ll hurt me? Guess what asshole I’m-“

But he didn’t get to hear what you are because he shoved you back, standing up from his seat as he pushed you off yours and onto the ground. Your back hit the wooden floor and you hear the bartender sigh.

You watch as he walks away from the counter and into the back.

You glare up at Logan, lips peeled back in a snarl. But before you could stand up, he was grabbing you by the collar of your shirt and pulling you up from the ground. He was taller than you slightly so he could lift you off your feet.

“You think your funny with a smart mouth like that, well I got news for you, it’ll be no good for anything if you keep running it off”

You tried to shove him off of you but you couldn’t bring up enough force with your feet barely touching the ground.

“Let go of me!”

“Are going to calm down?”

“That depends, are you going to keep pushing me around?”

He dropped you and your knee buckled a little bit at suddenly having to take weight again.

“You pushed first” he muttered going to sit back down

“And I’m going to push last”

You swing at him, a sloppy, open swing, unlike your usual bullet-like punches. Before you could even make contact with Logan he spun around and pushed you to the floor again, clambering on top of you. His claws out. The outermost ones were jammed into the floor creating a fracture in the wood from the force, the middle was still retracted, barely peeking out of the gap in his skin just above your neck.

Instead of feeling fear at the threat you laugh. Like him, you had super regeneration so him stabbing you was no real threat. Not to mention you had carbon fiber steel for skin. He shoves his face in yours and growls

“What the fuck is your problem” he spits

Both of you have drunk enough, you're both rearing for a fight and the only person you have to take it out on is each other.

Logan is pissed, he doesn’t get you. You spend every mission jumping into dangerous situations and then you come to the bar every night to come back drunk. Do you have a screw loose or are you just that stupid.

Even as he looks at you with his brow furroed and his claws at your throat you continue to laugh.

“Go on then, slice me open. Maybe we’ll both feel better afterwards” you laugh again but pain stings at your eyes as tears well up.

If only you could just die, make a sacrifice worth something like everyone else. Maybe then the pain will stop, maybe then you won't spend every night pitting yourself, maybe you won't be the cause of any more loss because you just weren’t good enough.

Logan pauses, ready cut you to ribbons but your statement makes him freeze. He knows that tone, the mirth. The self-deprecation and pain in your words. He doesn’t need to be like Charles to know what’s going on in your head.

“What. Are. You. Waiting. For?”

Before Logan could answer or move you grip his wrist pulling it out of wooden floors and slam his fist into you chest.

But there are no blades, no blood and not cuts. Just the knuckles of his fist thumping into your chest. It only throbs in pain, no damage done.

“Fuck you” you say bluntly and shove him off of you, pushing him away and standing up. He’s left speechless watching as you stand up, down the rest of the bottle and one of his shots. Pull out some crumpled notes and storm off, walking out into the night.

Let me know if you want part 2 and I take request for as well so check me out @waywardwritesstuff for my request info.

(Psst you can find part 2 here)

144 notes · View notes

vipvesper · 4 months ago

Note

heyy so can you do a clarisse x reader fic where they have like rivalry?

major h8r

pairing: clarisse la rue x reader

warnings: clarisse, mentions of bullying, some low-grade tajin level spice

word count: 890+

"next time you won't be so lucky."

"Dude, you can't keep letting her pick on you like that," preaches Luke as the two of you sit on a rock. What happened, you may ask? You decided it would be a good idea to give into Clarisse after she relentlessly harassed begged you. Rather than actually focusing on technique during your spar, she took the opportunity to beat the Hades out of you. “She’s a bully.”

White bandages slip out of your grasp as you feebly attempt to wrap your wound. While ambrosia and nectar would've done the job, you're wary with consumption as to not burn to a crisp. Luke takes your hand, doing it for you. Contempt swirls in his oak-hued eyes, he knows you're better than this.

"I shouldn't have believed her when she said she wanted to improve her technique. I let my guard down," you mutter. Annabeth tuts, turning to face the entrance of the woods. “She may be a little… rough around the edges, but she’s not a bad person.”

"You'd think that someone like you would notice that she is," she states, blunt as ever.

"Helpful input, Annabeth.”

"It's the truth." The girl shrugs, fresh braids (courtesy of you) draped down her back.

"Thanks for the help, guys," you say, clapping an injured hand over Luke's shoulder. "But I have to get going. Camp won't run itself."

"But it literally will--"

You're already out of range by the time either of them can make any sort of protest. As you walk through the dirt paths, surveying the behaviors of the campers that are out and about, a familiar stomping sound approaches. Great. Clarisse.

Before you can turn to face her, an angry fist hits you over the head.

"You idiot! Why didn't you tell me you fight like a toddler? I would've gone easy," she jabs your side rather hard, forcing you to fold in on yourself. "Can't have Chiron's favorite in the infirmary. It'd be a shame if you shriveled up and died from an ambrosia overdose." You simply brush her off, having much more important things to do. “C’mon, dude, you suck at swordfighting!”

“Why are you talking to me?”

The question seems to catch her off guard. Her playful stance shifts to one fueled by anger at your comment.

“Cuz who else here is stupid as you?” The girl scoffs, built arms crossed over her overly toned chest. This isn’t even fair.

“Goodbye, Clarisse,” You roll your eyes, hiking up the stairs of the Big House, shutting it behind you.

Darkness creeps into the corner of your visions as you lay in your bunk, eyes trained on the ceiling. The snores of your siblings fill the room, coupled with the shuffling of blankets. Just as you near dreamland, a loud thunk on your window jolts you awake. You grab the weapon under your pillow, startled. You groan, seeing the culprit. Clarisse stands at your window, eyes shifting around.

Reluctantly, you let her tumble into the cabin, forcing her to silence.

“Shh, you’re gonna wake them up.” She simply laughs, kicking her shoes off, and dropping into your bed. “To what do I owe this pleasure?” Your voice is nothing more than a whisper, quiet as a breeze.

“Missed ya’.” The daughter of Ares snickers, grabbing your tired form and dragging you down with her.

“You can’t keep breaking into my cabin,” you insist, but she doesn’t listen. The two of you lay side by side, simply enjoying eachother’s company. “You’re like… too calm.” Clarisse snorts, curls draped over your blankets

“Shut up. Next time you won’t be so lucky. I’m exhausted from beating your ass all day.” She grabs you by the collar, planting an uncharacteristically gentle kiss on your cheek. Heat blooms in your face, creeping up your neck and touching your ears.

“Oh. Wow.”

She moves quick, tackling you in a kiss—this time on the lips. A hint of cherry chapstick touches your tastebuds as your situationship pulls away. It’s a fleeting feeling, her lips on yours, and you simply can’t get enough. She chuckles upon seeing the look on your face.

“I hate your stupid face.” Clarisse’s sudden words are laced with laughter, her fingertips gently brushing over the dip of your nose and the apples of your reddened cheeks.

Her pretty dark eyes stare into yours, thumbing over a bruise she left from sparring.

“Doesn’t seem it.”

The brutish girl props herself on her elbow, staring down at you with her gorgeous eyes, darkest browns dotted with celestial bronze, swirled with imperial gold in the low light.

She tucks a loose tuft of hair behind your ear, leaving down again to deliver another gentle kiss. “Mmh,” she hums, warm tongue prodding for entry. Warm summer air blows in, the window left agape. The scent of the strawberry fields and the last embers of the latest fire mix to form a pleasant smell, bathing the cabin.

Clarisse’s calloused hand cups your jaw, her tongue slipping into your mouth. The air between you only gets thicker, forcing the duo up for a quick breath.

“Thought you didn’t like the French,” you jest, deciding this is the time to poke fun—since you won’t end up with a goose egg. She shoves you around for a bit.

“Shut up. Stupid teacher’s pet.” She captures you in another kiss, fingers intertwined like the stars and the sky.

a/n

i got pretty distracted, so this is less of a rivalry and more of a secret relationship 😔

146 notes · View notes

viridescentelf · 3 months ago

Text

In your debt - Final Part

Young Halsin x Reader

Hey guys! This is the final part of my Young Halsin saga lol. I may continue doing some other fics with this version of him, but I am quite frankly out of ideas for now.

I am not all too proud of this part. There are certain scenes that just don't hit as hard as I'd like, but I've been editing and tweaking for days now. I'm finally just accepting it is what it is and basta!

Original idea for young Halsin belongs to @ozumii-fucking-wizard! Please go to their blog and follow!

Warning: 18+, violence, general nsfw, explicit sex, oral and penetrative, rough

For previous parts: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

If you want a spicy song for "the moment", give this a listen. It's what I listened to while writing it lol

Word Count: 8k sorry lol

-----

Halsin listened to your plan and decided it was too risky. He rejected it in an exceedingly kind way, as his smile hypnotized you to refrain from arguing. You conceded, for now, but asked that he share his plans with you, once there were any. He agreed, reluctantly.

In the next few days, you noticed him speaking to two other druids in hushed voices. You surmised they were Frelma and Danan, the two he mentioned that would help him topple the looming drow and goblin threat.

They would hurriedly finish their meals and then gather at the edge of the forest. It was fairly obvious that they were doing something they shouldn’t, but you couldn’t tell if the Archdruid, or Anwen, suspected anything. If they did, they didn’t show their suspicions around you. Halsin joined Anwen in prayer every evening. You were allowed to observe. One time, you noticed Anwen cross her arms and eye her adoptive son from head to toe, while Halsin nervously sputtered something about “studying”. If you could tell he was lying, you were certain she could. But she didn’t press him, to your surprise.

Your healing was complete. You felt a surge of energy and strength within yourself after the final session with Halsin, but there was also a twinge of sadness. You enjoyed these tender bouts with him. The feeling of his warm hands upon you made you yearn for more. He would often lower his head and listen to your abdomen and a strobing image of him between your legs made you twitch and gulp down your lust, embarrassed that he may feel your body temperature rise dramatically.

You weren't certain the feeling was mutual. You thought you saw him blush a few times and try to hide it or noticed a devoted spark within his viridescent eyes as you complimented his duck figurines. The way he touched you, it felt different than how Anwen healed you. As if he was exploring.

You would talk for hours now. You taught him a few chords, he showed you what amazing things you could find in the forest – creatures, plants, food. He even taught you how to carve wood. He would sit behind you to guide your hands while you carefully sliced through the bark. His touch was so gentle. Some nights you two would sing together, that addictive laugh of his when he messed up a note or lyric; It almost made you swoon.

He loved learning about your travels, the city and misadventures you’d had. He confessed he was slightly bored of the forest and wanted to go on long explorations. He even joked about joining you – at least you thought it was a joke. The way he looked at you when he said “Good night”; Most evenings, it felt he had a difficult time leaving your side.

You couldn’t be sure: maybe he was just like this with everyone.

Halsin told you his current plan while you helped him forage one afternoon. They would track the goblins’ markings through the forest to the stronghold and sneak inside. He showed you the footprints peppering the muddy ground near the village entrance. Once there, they would eradicate the leaders, leaving the goblins without guidance and unable to organize. It sounded so simple, but once you pressed how three druids would manage to fight off a hoard of goblins and tactical drow leaders, he placated you that they were well trained. At the question “What if the goblins overwhelm you?” you noticed the druid’s eyes jitter across the floor. It looked like he hadn’t thought of that, but quickly shook off his reaction.

It was your last day together. Halsin decided he would leave with his group the following morning. Your healing had finished, after all. His task was done. You had no reason to stay in the druids’ village any longer. They all assumed you wanted to get back home – which was the furthest thing from your mind.

You had tucked the children into bed with a lullaby once again and found the druid waiting for you outside the barn. Leaning against a nearby tree, you sensed heightened hesitation on his end, unusual for him. You tilted your head as you watched him scan your features. Letting his arms drop, he approached you slowly. Your heart thudded against your chest.

“Y/N,…”, he looked deeply into your eyes as he grasped your hands within his. “It’s been a pleasure getting to know you. I wish we’d met under different circumstances. Please know you are always welcome in the High Forest! Thaniel adores you, the children adore you, my mother thinks you’re a riot. And I… well…” You saw him swallow harshly and your insides started combusting.

WHAT? SAY IT!

The young druid squeezed your hands slightly, his jaw clenched.

“I..”

The courage he was building up collapsed suddenly. He dropped his head and let out a sigh.

“Thank you for everything. I hope Silvanus permits our paths cross again. If I survive tomorrow.”

His laugh felt forced.

Your face muscles unclenched and your brows tilted upwards. That was it? You couldn’t suppress the pulsating disappointment. It showed in your eyes. What did he stop himself from saying?

Halsin looked disappointed as well. He stared off to the side and let go of your hands, taking his time.

You stood in silence for a while. The unspoken truth hammering in your chest. His reluctance threw you off. Did he not feel the way you did, after all? Did he not want you?

Your own bravery shrunk within itself. The words you had prepared in your head for days were fogging fast.

“Halsin,” you started with the first coherent thought, “Please let me come with you. The current plan is suicide.” This wasn’t all you wanted to say. But your tongue ignored you.

His eyes drifted over your face. He saw your own hesitation and blinked slowly.

“No. I can’t see you hurt again. And please, don’t worry. If things get too hard, we’ll get out of there.”

That last line was a lie. You could tell.

The druid stepped forward and pulled you into a tight embrace. Your breath shook as your face pressed against his strong chest. The scent of his skin drifted up your nose. You felt his chin rest on your head softly, as you two swayed in each other’s arms. The hug lasted a while, neither of you wanting to end it.

There was a brief tremor and he released from you.

“Oakfather preserve you”, he mumbled, looking down at you one last time before turning to leave.

You wanted to grab his arm and pull him back to you. But the fear of a second rejection was too deafening.

Why wouldn’t your mouth open? You wanted to scream that your wish was to stay with him. Your mind threw up every single want and need you imagined with him. But nothing dared leave your lips.

Halsin entered the barn and closed the sliding door without looking at you.

The tears fell from your eyes without warning. There was so much you wanted to say, but you couldn’t muster up any remaining strength or courage to follow him.

Maybe this was for the best. You had a life back in Baldur’s Gate. And he had his here.

Perhaps this was the way it had to be. As shitty as it was.

You walked up the path slowly, the druids’ village behind you, trekking the road back to the city in the morning light. Your entire body resisted the travel home. You didn’t want to go back. Your stomach was in knots.

You loved the High Forest. The children. The druids.

You had feelings for Halsin. Whether you were brave enough to speak them into existance or not, they existed. Not only did you long for him for his eternal beauty, but the endless gentle nature that embraced you every time he gazed into your eyes. You couldn’t be certain what he chose not to divulge to you yesterday, but you regretted not telling him how you felt.

His plan was dumb. He was surely walking into a massive trap in the stronghold. Your plan was also dumb, but it guaranteed that the druids would have a higher chance of survival. It didn’t guarantee your survival, but you had waved Halsin’s critique of that small detail away the same way he brushed yours off.

The idea of never seeing him again bit your heart. You couldn’t bear the thought of him getting hurt. And he would definitely be wounded or worse if he went through with his current plan.

A snaking, disturbing thought wrapped itself around your head. What if he actually got killed?

You stopped in your tracks and gazed at the path that led back home. You couldn’t let that happen. He was a big brother to those sweet children. The forest spirit was his friend. His mother would be in shambles. You would be inconsolable.

This plan is dumb.

You felt your body turn on its heels and face the direction of the village once more. Not knowing what happened to him would be the worst kind of torture. The endless wondering if he was alright. The sleepless nights praying to all the Gods that he returned to the druids’ village safely.

It won’t work.

The tempo of your stride increased gradually, leaving gusts of dirt behind you, as you ran back. Halsin had showed you which footprints they were following. You knew in which direction they were heading.

I’m gonna die again.

You muttered to yourself as you hiked up a steep hill through the trees, the goblins’ tracks still visible in the dirt road. You spotted fresh larger prints and recognized Halsin’s boots.

You ran, holding the beautiful lute he made for you in your hand.

You found them deeper in the forest, stalking low through the high bushes, their pace steady. Halsin’s broad shoulders tensed as he led the way through the brush, flanked by his two companions—each of them with their eyes sharp, alert to the clashing and clanking of metal below in the clearing. The afternoon sun filtered through the trees, casting long shadows that danced along the path. You could hear their hushed conversation as you approached, their words blending with the rustling of leaves.

"Halsin!" You called out, breathless, your heart pounding in your chest from the frantic, long sprint. Your face was the shade of a fire amber.

Halsin spun around, eyes wide with surprise as he saw you coming up the trail. His face softened, but there was an unmistakable flicker of frustration in his gaze: “What are you doing here? No! Get back to the city!”

You peered down at what they had discovered. A large camp stretched across a field of dead trees with a decaying ruin casting huge shadows on the hastily constructed ramparts. It emanated death, making the skin on the back of your neck prickle with fear. There was a moat around the camp with a rickety and long bridge stretching across the depth.

Gulping audibly, you returned your gaze to the group of confused druids who were waiting for an explanation. Halsin looked incredulous.

You planted yourself firmly in front of him: “I’m here to help. Your plan—it won’t work man, I just know it won’t.”

His jaw tightened, a low growl of annoyance escaping his throat: “And your plan? The one where you sacrifice yourself as bait for a horde of viscious goblins? That will work? It’s reckless, stupid, dangerou—”

“It’s the only way!”, you interrupted, meeting his intense, worried glare with unwavering determination, although your knees were giving in. Why was even his angered face hot?

“If I can lead the goblins away, it will give you and the others a real chance to take out the drow without being overwhelmed. Your plan leaves too much to chance. We can’t afford that, not with the children’s lives at stake.”

Halsin’s hands balled into fists at his sides, his voice strained: “No. I can’t let you. It’s too risky and if something happens to you again—” His words trailed off, the frustration giving way to something deeper, more vulnerable.

His two friends, who had been silent until now, exchanged glances. Frelma, a younger, halfling druid with sharp eyes and a playful expression, stepped forward: “Halsin,… I’m sorry mate, but maybe they’re right. Our current plan is… well not really a plan, is it? We’re kind of just jumping in and hoping for the best. This way…to draw the goblins out… it could give us a real advantage.”

Danan, a quiet but sturdy looking human, nodded in agreement: “It’s better than what you have been conjuring up as we go.” He turned his gaze to you, scanning you up and down. Your breath was already steady, despite having ran the entire way.

“You have good stamina. Definitely fast to catch up with us so quickly. What’s your plan for distracting them?”

You hastily flung your bag on the ground and rummaged in it. Out of the chaotic depths of your belongings, you pulled a couple glass bottles out. Holding them up, you explained: “I know, if you mix salt, scales and fungi together, it can make a decent explosive. Not too devastating but enough to cause confusion. I have salt in my pack. You guys should know how to find the rest, no?”

Frelma paused briefly then nodded, mumbling that she noticed drake markings at a nearby cave. Danan already started peering into the forest, assessing where he could ascertain the right mushrooms.

Halsin’s eyes darted between his companions and you, his internal struggle palpable. His shoulders sagged, the weight of the situation bearing down on him: “This is lunacy. You don’t understand what you’re up against here,” he said softly, almost pleading. “I don’t want to see you hurt again. Not for this.”

You got up from the ground, still holding the bottles in your hands. You took a step closer, your voice gentle but firm: “I know I don’t look it, but I’ve bolted my way out of horrible situations before. I can outrun them. You just take care of the leaders. This way, you guys can use the element of surprise to your benefit. If you go through with this without a real plan, it could be you who gets hurt, or worse. I can’t let that happen. Please… let me do this.”

The worry he had for you made your heart scream.

His gaze held yours for a long moment, his eyes searching your face for any sign of hesitation. You could feel the raw emotion behind his steely exterior—because it echoed within your own form.

Frelma pressed the young druid further: “Halsin. We have to succeed today. If we lose, I do not want to know what will happen to the village.” Danan nodded in agreement. All three were staring up at the honey-haired elf, who kept his gaze firmly on you.

Finally, with a deep, resigned sigh, he spoke, his voice thick with emotion: “I don’t like this, not one bit… but… I guess you’re right. We cannot afford to lose.”

You exhaled, relief flooding through you as his words sank in: “I’ll be careful. I promise.”

Halsin’s worry still clouded his features. He reached out, resting a hand on your cheek, his touch warm and grounding. Your red face turned purple.

“Run like hell,” he adjured, his voice deep and filled with a quiet intensity. “The forest needs you. The children need you… and so do I.”

You gave a small, determined nod, gripping the bottles in your hand. You leaned into his touch briefly, before he lowered his hand to turn to the stronghold.

You turned as well, ready to set your plan in motion while the other two went on to gather the necessary ingredients. Halsin stayed back to look for any shallow entryway. You cast one last look at him, before you ran after Danan and Frelma.

Night had fallen by the time you reached the outskirts of the goblin camp. Shadows stretched long across the ground, and the loud, raucous voices of goblins and drow filled the air as they feasted and drank within the ruin’s crumbling walls. The scent of roasted, sour meat wafted on the night breeze, mixing with the pungent stench of unwashed bodies and smoke. It made your stomach churn, both from nerves and disgust.

High above in the ramparts of the ruin, you squatted down, cloaked in the darkness. You moved carefully, staying low as you crept across the stone. The weight of the glass bottles in your hand was a constant reminder of what was to come. You felt your heart pound against your chest with a mix of adrenaline and fear.

What the Hells am I doing?

Below, in the ruin's hall, the three drow leaders sat at the head of the long table, their faces twisted in haughty disdain as they presided over the goblins, who sheepishly ate food scraps the drow had thrown on their tables. Two female warriors, clad in dark armor and bristling with blades, flanked a male drow in elegant robes. His sneering gaze drifted across the room like a spider surveying its web, full of contempt for his own underlings and their disappointing return. Dead goblin corpses littered the front. Their throats slit or heads caved in. You surmised the drow had made an example out of some of the goblins for their failure to capture the children. You recognized Izick, his body sprawled, bloody and discarded off to the side. So, he had survived the fall with you. But he hadn’t avoided death.

The goblins were too distracted to notice the approaching danger, but the drow remained sharp—dangerous even in their leisure.

Halsin, Frelma, and Danan moved silently, shadows within shadows, creeping through the underbrush and stone rubble surrounding the stronghold. Their presence was almost imperceptible, the tension building as they stalked closer to their target. You saw Halsin in a deep crouch near the rear of the ruin, his eyes gleaming golden in the moonlight, the instinctual urge to charge into the fray held back by sheer force of will. He waited, watching for your signal, his backside straining for a pounce.

It was your turn.

This is suicide, your brain screamed at you, but you ignored it.

The goblins below were too engrossed in eating scraps to notice you at the ramparts. Some were fighting amongst themselves for pieces of food, others drunkenly hollering at each other. It was the perfect storm of chaos, ripe for your plan to begin.

You gripped the grenade bottle tightly, sweat slick on your palm despite the cool night air. Every second felt like a lifetime ticking away. You counted the goblins below—too many to face in open battle, but just enough to chase after one tantalizing and idiotic distraction.

You inhaled deeply, steadying yourself.

I’m definitely going to die.

You shook your head. Now wasn’t the time for reason. This had to work. It just had to.

It felt like days passed as you waited for your arm to obey.

Then, with a flick of your wrist, you hurled the bottle with all your strength into the heart of the camp.

Time seemed to slow as the glass bottle arched through the air, glinting in the dim light of the torches. It smashed against a stone near the goblins' fire pit, shattering into a brilliant flash of sparks and smoke. The chemical mixture inside ignited with a crackling roar, and suddenly, flames and choking fumes exploded upward. Goblins screeched in confusion, clutching at their eyes, as a burst of light and sound sent them into a frenzied panic.

The table overturned in the chaos, food and drink spilling everywhere. The male drow snapped to attention, his sharp eyes narrowing with suspicion. "What is the meaning of this?" he barked at the goblins, his voice dripping with venom.

But the goblins were beyond control now. The noise and flames had triggered their primal instincts—fight or flight. And when they caught sight of you, darting across the top of the ramparts, they made their choice.

“There!” one of the goblins howled, pointing at your fleeting form. “Get that rat!”

Like a wave crashing over rocks, the goblin horde surged toward you, claws and weapons raised. You didn’t wait to see the full effect; you bolted, heart pounding, lungs burning as your legs carried you across the stone ruins. The cacophony of angry goblins filled the air behind you, their shrieks and footfalls growing louder as they swarmed after you like a pack of feral beasts.

You leaped from the ramparts and rolled as you hit the ground, not daring to look back as you sprinted through the muddy camp, your feet pounding against the squelching earth. They were following you, as planned, but there were so many. The old bridge loomed ahead, dark and rickety as the wind swayed the frayed wood from side to side. The goblins’ cries echoed through the night as you darted towards the peninsula.

Back at the ruin, Halsin and his companions took advantage of the chaos. With the goblins now chasing you, the main hall was left vulnerable, the drow leaders standing alone with only a few goblin stragglers, stunned and confused by the sudden turn of events.

Frelma grinned, her eyes gleaming with anticipation as she crouched beside Halsin. “Well, that worked better than expected,” she whispered.

Danan grunted in agreement, his eyes locked on the drow. “It’s time.”

Halsin's hands flexed at his sides, his jaw tight as he watched the drow leaders—three of Lolth's chosen, arrogant and cruel, their dark eyes scanning the room for signs of the ambush they couldn’t see coming. He could feel the heat rising in his chest, the primal fury begging to be unleashed. A flash of you, hurt and bleeding, flitted in his mind. But he shook his head. He needed to concentrate and fulfill the mission.

“Hold,” he muttered, forcing himself to wait a moment longer. He needed to time the attack perfectly. The last few goblins hastily followed the group after the male drow growled at them for their uselessness. You had done your part - he couldn’t let the drow sense what was coming. His fingers tingled with the surge of druidic power inside him, the need to transform almost overwhelming.

Finally, when the drow leaders�� attention drifted back to their overturned table for a brief second, Halsin gave a sharp nod to his companions.

With a single, fluid motion, Halsin burst from the shadows, his body aglow with golden light as his form shifted, muscles rippling as he transformed mid-leap. His bear form crashed into the male drow, sending him sprawling as Frelma and Danan surged forward, weapons flashing in the dim light. The two female drow drew their blades, their faces twisted into sneers as they prepared to fight back.

Frelma’s blade flashed in the moonlight as she darted around one of the warriors, each strike met with a sharp parry and a flurry of counterattacks. Danan fought the other, their weapons clashing with a thunderous ring, the drow’s face twisted in a sneer of amusement. She was toying with him, each movement graceful and calculated, a predator circling its prey.

Halsin, now in his bear form, roared as he slammed into the leader, sending him crashing against a crumbled wall. The drow hit the ground with a sickening thud, and for a moment, his body lay still. Halsin didn’t have time to confirm the kill—Frelma’s pained grunt drew his attention.

The female drow were vicious. Agile and brutal, their movements were precise and deadly. Frelma barely avoided a swipe to her throat, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she dodged and weaved. She was tiring. Danan was faring no better, his opponent driving him back step by step, her twin blades a blur of death in the dim light.

With a growl, Halsin charged, shifting back into his elven form. He unsheathed his staff, the wood crackling with druidic energy, and swung it down with the full force of his fury. It caught one of the drow off guard, knocking her off balance and giving Frelma the opening she needed. Frelma lunged forward, her blade finding purchase in the drow’s side, and the dark elf let out a hiss of pain, her sneer faltering.

Danan managed to regain his footing, pressing his attack as the second female drow turned her attention to Halsin. Her cold, red eyes gleamed with hatred, and she launched herself at him with lightning speed, her blades aimed straight for his chest.

But Halsin was ready.

He sidestepped her, his staff spinning in a fluid arc, knocking one of her blades from her hand. She snarled, but before she could recover, he brought the end of his staff crashing down on her wrist with a sharp crack, disarming her completely. Frelma and Danan closed in, ready to finish the fight.

Halsin’s gaze flicked toward the male drow, still crumpled against the wall. He didn’t move, his body seemingly lifeless.

You tore across the rickety old bridge that connected the ruin to the High Forest beyond. The ancient wood yawned angrily beneath your feet, swaying alarmingly with each step, but you couldn't slow down. The horde of goblins was right behind you, their screeches growing louder as they stormed across the bridge in pursuit. The clanging of their blades on their armor punched into your ears, their claws scraping against the tired wood.

Your heart pounded in your chest, every instinct screaming at you to keep running. Just a little farther.

Once you reached the other side of the bridge, you skidded to a stop, panting heavily as you pulled the second grenade bottle from your belt. With a quick glance over your shoulder, you saw the goblins—dozens of them—crowding onto the bridge. It groaned under their weight, the ancient wood splintering at the edges.

This was it.

You hurled the bottle at the center of the bridge, your aim true. The glass shattered against the wood, and for a heartbeat, nothing happened.

Then, with a deafening explosion, the bridge erupted in a shower of fire and splinters. The force of the blast eviscerated the structure, sending chunks of wood and metal flying into the air. The goblins let out terrified shrieks as the ground disappeared beneath them. You watched as they tumbled into the depths below, their bodies swallowed by the darkness of the ravine.

The bridge was gone. The goblins were no more.

You collapsed to your knees, gasping for breath, a mix of relief and exhaustion washing over you. The plan had worked. The horde was dealt with. You had made it out alive. You stared at the tower, anxiety gripping your throat. Was Halsin ok?

Back in the ruin, Halsin felt the rumble of the second explosion vibrate in the distance.

As the other female drow fell to the ground, defeated, Halsin’s attention snapped back to where the male drow had lain motionless. His heart fell to his stomach. The body was gone.

Halsin’s eyes widened in horror: "No..."

A surge of cold dread shot through him as he turned toward the entrance of the ruin. His mind raced, piecing it together—Misty Step. The male drow hadn’t been incapacitated. He had been waiting, biding his time, and now…

Was he going after you?

Halsin’s stomach twisted into knots, a cold sweat breaking out across his brow.

“I need to go!”, he barked at Frelma and Danan, urgency flooding his voice, “He’s going after Y/N!”

Without waiting for a reply, Halsin sprinted toward the exit, his legs pumping furiously as he raced through the ruin and out into the night.

He dashed through the mud with fire burning in his legs, stomach and throat, inconsolable at the sheer possibility that you could be harmed. Reaching the edge of the camp, embers of the explosion floated through the darkness and the charred wood smell invaded his nostrils.

Seeing the young druid on the other side, you cheered loudly, jumping up and down with your fist pumping into the air.

Halsin stared across the deep crevice before him at your gleeful hopping form, excessive concern stretched across his face. He couldn’t jump the distance in his human form.

Where was the drow?

You couldn’t see that far, so you didn’t notice how worrisome his expression was. You were so happy to see him alive and unharmed. Your plan had worked. The ecstasy of success waved through you and left you distracted. Your loud yelps of joy deafened the surroundings.

A whooshing sound reverberated behind you. Mist flowed between your legs as you landed from another jump. A harsh tug of your hair yanked you against your will back into the air. You kicked with your feet, but the drow held his arm outstretched, clasping a clump of your tresses. The pain made your spine contort.

“Y/N!!!”, Halsin shouted across the moat, his panicked voice repeated through the stone. The young druid’s body glowed golden, as he tried to transform.

“Don’t move…”, the drow’s sharp voice hissed to the druid, as he held a dagger to your side. “Or I’ll gut them.”

The pointy, harsh edge of the blade stuck in your belly. It hovered there dangerously close to your recovered area. You tried not to squirm too much in fear of being punctured, but the pain from your cranium made you move involuntarily.

Halsin roared with fury, the golden light flashing low: “Let them go!”

The drow sneered, his lips curling into a cruel smirk. He dragged you closer, the blade still teasingly pressed against your abdomen: “You druids... you're all the same,” he growled, voice dripping with contempt. “Always talking about balance, harmony, and the natural order, like it makes you righteous. But what do you really know of power? You hide in your groves and forests, pretending to be one with nature, while the world burns and bends to those with ambition.”

He jerked your head back further, his fingers tangling painfully in your hair, yanking your neck at an awkward angle. “Slaves, like these filthy children you’re so desperate to protect, are a necessity for those of us who understand true strength. They’re tools—nothing more. Yet you lot," he glanced at Halsin with disdain, "would sacrifice your lives for them. Pathetic."

His eyes gleamed with malice, the grip on the blade loosening just slightly as he gestured toward Halsin. “Because of your meddling, I’ll have to replace what’s been taken from me. Those ugly children? They’d have made fine thralls, but I suppose I’ll just have to make do with this one instead. And I’ll return with more, fearsome soldiers.”

The blade wavered precariously as he waved it in the air, illustrating his sick vision. His attention drifted more and more toward his rant, the gloating feeding his arrogance. “My people—we understand how the world truly works. We take what we deserve, we own, we dominate. That’s the natural order.” He flicked the blade dangerously close to your ribs again, but it was clear—he was more interested in hearing the sound of his own voice than paying attention to his hostage.

Through the haze of pain and fear, you could feel it—the rhythm of his speech, the looseness of his grip, the blade no longer pressing with the same deadly certainty. His monologue flowed, each word laced with bitterness, but it was also growing sloppier, as his arrogance overtook his caution.

“Your little rebellion here means nothing. You’ll all fall to us, one way or another. No one stands against us and lives to—"

You didn’t let him finish.

In a surge of adrenaline, you kicked your legs up, swinging your foot with as much force as you could muster. The heel of your boot connected hard with the blade in his hand, sending it clattering across the stone ground. The drow yelped in fury and pain as the force of the blow snapped his fingers back, the sickening crack of bone ringing in your ears. He released his grip on your hair with a sharp intake of breath, stumbling back in shock and agony, clutching his broken extremities.

You fell on your back with a deep thud. Letting out an involuntary grunt, the fall had momentarily immobilized you, as your body tried to assess the damage. Your spine ached all the way down to your tailbone, which pulsated with a cruel sting. Your groans echoed through the crater, joining with the drow’s wails.

You heard the clattering of steel against stone again. Opening your eyes, they filled with fear as the drow walked towards you, blade back in both hands with two fingers bent in the wrong direction. He thrust up in the air to pierce your chest. You crawled backwards instinctively, but he was too fast. His biceps flexed: he was about to swing forward.

A giant, brown beast collided into him from the side, having jumped across the abyss. The bear roared with a deep, thunderous bellow, a powerful and resonant sound that rumbled like distant thunder, carrying the raw force of its primal strength. It was a familiar intonation; you had heard it the first day at the druids’ village. The rage filled small eyes gleamed in a green shade.

Its massive paws pummeled the dark elf, who was unable to do anything other than take each mighty strike. The bear hovered over you, the brown fur tickling your arms and legs as he continuously slammed down on the adversary. The crunching and cracking noises made you wince, holding your hands over your face.

The strikes continued for a while, until the bear let out another mighty roar. You dared not look at the result of the violence, but the drow didn’t move anymore.

His beastly form started glowing with a golden hue as he faced you lying beneath him. You peered at him through your fingers.

The bear transformed into Halsin, who hovered over you panting with exhaustion and excitement. Your breath was similarly fast, exhaling the fear and burning sensation in your legs out as you stared into each other’s eyes.

Both of you let out soft chuckles. You had done it. The village was safe. The children were protected again.

His eyes twitched back and forth from your eyes to your lips as your puffing synchronized shakily. Your heart was hammering against your chest. The jade hue in his eyes twinkled with a hunger you hadn’t seen before: it was the same craving you had had ever since you met him. He was waiting for something. Without really thinking, you nodded quickly.

He fell forward into your lips. You let out a moan as he kissed you hard and his body pressed into your own. He kept himself poised above you with his strong arms, but his leg pushed yours apart so he could press himself into you. Your tongues lapped each other up, the fiery taste trickling down your throat and intensifying the throbbing in your loins.

The intensity of your long-suppressed desires finally broke free. The mixture of happiness that he felt the way you did intertwined with the drive to please him. Both of you almost died. You had survived. You wanted each other now more than ever. You were both equally happy to see each other unharmed and could not wait any longer. There was no moment to think about timing.

Halsin's strong hands caressed your face, his touch gentle yet urgent. You wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened. The heat between your bodies grew, months of unspoken longing pouring out through fevered touches and passionate embraces.

Halsin's lips trailed down your neck, eliciting soft gasps as he found sensitive spots. His hands roamed your body, exploring every curve with reverence. You arched into his touch, fingers tangling in his hair as waves of expectation washed over you.

Clothing was hastily shed, both of you eager to feel skin against skin. Halsin's muscular form pressed against you, his warmth enveloping you completely. His touch was electric, igniting sparks wherever his fingers grazed. You traced the planes of his beautiful chest, gazing entranced at his pristine physique - a vision you had only been imagining since you met him. The discarded clothes lay forgotten by your sides.

His eyes filled with primal urge, eyeing your sweat speckled body he had been carefully mending for a long time. You gazed at each other, panting from the exhaustion of the heist and the anticipation of what needed to happen between you.

The druid scooped you up in his strong arms, carrying you away from the grisly scene to a more secluded spot against a large oak tree. His lips never left yours as he gently set you down, then pressed you up against the rough bark. The contrast of the tree's coarse texture against your back and Halsin's warm, smooth skin against your front sent shivers through your body. His large hands squeezed fleshy parts of you as you gasped into his ear. Halsin growled low in his throat, the sound vibrating in your spine and making the flame within you burn blue.

Halsin's lips traced a sizzling path down your neck as he gripped your ass. He lifted you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist as he pressed you against the tree. The rough bark scraped your back. He grasped his length and held it up against your entrance, staring at you with impatient craving. Yet, he waited for your approval. You hastily nodded your head and spatt out a breathy “Yes”, which was interrupted by him thrusting deep into you. Your head fell back as you cried out - he was so big. He dared not enter you fully, thrusting only half of himself into your tiny body.

He held you up, easily, kissing the side of your neck to comfort you through his wild and frantic punctures.

Your bodies moved together in a primal rhythm, finding a perfect synchronicity. Halsin's muscular form rippled with each thrust, his face a mask of passionate intensity as he grunted deeply. You clung to his broad shoulders, nails digging into his skin as waves of pleasure washed over you.

He carried you down to the forest floor, laying you gently on a bed of soft moss. Halsin hovered above you, his jade eyes dark with desire as he drank in the sight of your form. His hands roamed reverently over your curves before he lowered himself to you. His tongue tickled you and your back arched up aggressively into his mouth. You lay a hand on his honey hair and pushed him down into you. He obliged and licked faster, feeling you jerk and twist under his work. He chuckled teasingly into you, as he felt you get close.

“Not yet,…” he purred, staring up at you.

You rolled on top of him before he could continue teasing. You positioned yourself over his quaking cock.

Your thighs trembled with anticipation as you hovered over him. He gripped your hips, steadying you as you slowly lowered yourself onto his length. A soft gasp escaped your lips as you took him in, inch by delicious inch, until he was fully sheathed inside you.

For a moment, you both stayed still, reveling in the sensation of being so intimately connected. The druid’s chest rose and fell rapidly in the golden hue, as he fought to maintain control. You placed your hands on his broad chest, feeling the fast beating of his heart beneath your palms.

Then, with a roll of your hips, you began to move. Slowly at first, savoring every sensation as you rose and fell upon him, feeling him slide inside you was a bittersweet sensation, as your body trembled with each thrust. The stretching of your walls to accommodate his immense size sent a strange concoction of pain and pleasure coursing through you. It was almost overwhelming, the way he filled every inch of you, pushing boundaries that seemed impossible. But you couldn't deny the rush of excitement and ecstasy that came with it, making you shiver and arch your back in pure bliss. It was an experience like no other, one that left you breathless and wanting more.

Halsin's fingers dug into your flesh, guiding your movements as eager groans rumbled from him. You thought you heard him say something, but were too engulfed in riding him fiercely to activate your hearing.

He held you still with his strength and thrust up into you.

Your bodies synchronised again, each roll of your hips met by his upward drive. The forest around you seemed to pulse with energy, leaves rustling and branches swaying as if nature itself was swept up in your passionate union.

With a low growl, Halsin suddenly sat up, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you flush against his chest. He kissed you deeply, hungrily, as if he couldn't get enough. Then, in one fluid motion, he flipped you over onto your hands and knees.

You felt the soft moss beneath your palms as Halsin positioned himself behind you. His large hands caressed your back, tracing the curve of your spine before gripping your hips once more. You shivered, feeling his hardness pressing against your dripping hole. As he drilled into you, you felt him lean over your back, his towering form much larger than yours. His calloused hand softly wrapped around your neck, pulling your face up towards him.

You stared at each other as you let out deepseated moans, as you came all over him. Seeing the rapture flood through you, made him pound into you even harder. Halsin's thrusts became more urgent, his breathing ragged as he neared his peak.

You could feel the tension building in his body, muscles taut with exertion and pleasure.

With a final, deep thrust, Halsin let out a primal, inhuman roar. His body shuddered as he spilled himself inside you, his warmth flooding your core. You felt his cock pulse within you, drawing out the last waves of your own climax.

For a moment, you both remained still, panting heavily as the intensity of your shared release washed over you. Then, gently, Halsin eased out of you and gathered you into his arms. He lay back on the soft moss, cradling you against his broad chest.

You nestled into his warmth, feeling the rapid beating of his heart gradually slow, both your breathing matching each other.

Your bodies eased into the softness of the ground and the druid and you let out highly needed laughs.

As your giggles subsided, you both lay there in comfortable silence, basking in the afterglow of your passionate encounter. The forest around you seemed to hum with contentment, the gentle rustling of leaves and distant chirping of nocturnal creatures creating a soothing symphony.

Halsin's fingers traced lazy patterns on your skin, sending pleasant shivers down your spine. You nestled closer to him, resting your head on his broad chest, listening to the strong rhythm of his heartbeat.

"You know," Halsin began, his deep voice rumbling in his chest, "I've been wanting to do that for quite some time now."

You chuckled softly, tilting your head to meet his gaze. "Oh really? And here I thought I was the only one pining away."

His jade eyes sparkled with amusement and affection. "Pining, were you?”

“Fuck yes. When you first found me in the forest, I thought you were a God about to take me up to the Heavens. Couldn’t believe someone as handsome as you was semi-mortal.”

Halsin chuckled and pet your hair: “Even close to death, I couldn’t keep my eyes off you. Although I don’t like remembering seeing you like that. I am still beyond thankful to Silvanus that you pushed through that vile injury.”

You remembered something as he spoke of your first encounter.

“Hey, you were kissing me when I was unconscious, that’s a bit rude isn’t it?”

He laughed again: “I did not, I was bringing you back from the dead, mind you! Simple first aid, but effective.”

“First aid, sure.”

Halsin's eyes twinkled with mischief as he gazed at you. "Well, if you'd prefer, next time I find you half-dead, I'll just leave you be. Wouldn't want to be accused of taking advantage."

You snorted, playfully swatting his chest. "Oh please, as if you could resist these lips, even in a coma."

He giggled sweetly, the sound rumbling through his chest again and into yours. "You're right, I couldn't. Though I must say, you're much more enticing when you're conscious and not bleeding out. You have a crazy fascination with tempting fate. I must say I’ve never met someone like you before."

"Flatterer," you teased, tracing idle patterns on his skin. "I bet you say that to all the bards you rescue from certain doom."

Halsin's expression softened, his hand coming to cup your cheek. "Only the ones who’ve stolen my heart.”

You could've fainted right then. Your cheeks flushed even more.

He grinned, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear: "You came charging into our village, disrupting our peaceful way of life with your enchanting melodies and irresistible charm."

"Ah yes, because nothing says 'irresistible charm' quite like being half-way across the finish line of life.”

Both of you laughed together for a bit longer. You reminisced about the insanity of your unsually successful overthrow of the drow base. Halsin mused over how he was going to explain any of this to others’ in the village, especially the Archdruid. You promised to take the blame, it was your idea anyway.

As the first light of dawn began to filter through the forest canopy, you and Halsin reluctantly disentangled yourselves from each other's embrace. The cool morning air raised goosebumps on your skin as you gathered your discarded clothing, stealing glances and sharing soft smiles as you dressed.

Halsin's companions, Frelma and Danan, had long since returned to the village, trusting their leader to get home. As you made your way back through the forest, Halsin's hand found yours, his fingers intertwining with your own. The warmth of his touch sent a thrill through you.

The forest seemed different now, more alive and vibrant than ever before. Perhaps it was the afterglow of your encounter, or maybe it was the newfound connection you felt to this place and the man beside you.

As you and Halsin approached the druid village, you could hear the Archdruid's booming voice even before you saw him. His face was contorted with fury as he paced back and forth, gesticulating wildly. Hesitating slightly, you two walked through the entrance and were met with dangerous bellows, insults and worried eyes. Dafydd hit Halsin over the head a few times with his staff, while Anwen exasperately held your shoulders to check you for any injuries. Ultimately, they were right to be angry and concerned. The elder druid placed the blame on her son, although you insisted you were the main plotter (she didn’t believe you). You were certain they would ban you, yet they showered you in flower crowns and good mead. Halsin was eventually allowed into the festivities, after promising to clean up cow dung for 6 months as punishment.

You couldn’t stay in the village, as you had no desire to convert to druidism. Relucantly you returned to the city.

You vowed to come visit often, making your trips to the forest known, so he could see you. You promised to convince Anwen that Halsin could join you on your travels one day. Although that conversation had to wait a long while.

With each visit, you found little baskets of berries from the children and a newly whittled duck figurine that made you smile under your usual tree.

And every time your form became visible upon the horizon of the village, emerging from the forest path, Halsin’s eyes lit up and beamed at you.

#halsin bg3 #halsin #bg3 #halsin x reader #halsin x you #young halsin #young druid halsin #halsin silverbough #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 fanfiction #halsin fanfic #Spotify

99 notes · View notes