#can i say that? am i allowed to say he looks like a muscle kink yaoi uke? well i dont care. im saying it

[mrsbarnesblog]

firewood

masterlist ko-fi ao3

Lumberjack! Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: When you decide to chop wood in your backyard, your hot neighbor, who happens to be a lumberjack, offers you some help.

Word count: 4.8K

Warnings: +18❗️smut, hot neighbor bucky is a fucking warning, kinda size kink, rough sex, protected sex, dirty talk, pet names

Author's note: this is one of my favorite works, so I hope everyone who hasn't read it before will like it too (it's hard to not fall for lumberjack Bucky, tbh🤷‍♀️)

“Hey, do you need help?” You stopped what you were doing. You breathed heavily, your arms ached, and you were already sweating. The man, your neighbor, whom you already saw a few times when you arrived home, was standing before you with his hands in his jeans pockets. 

He was attractive. Really handsome. Probably 6 feet tall, with broad shoulders and visibly a lot of muscles under the clothes. Yeah, that red henley left nothing for your imagination. His dark hair was put in a low bun, and he had a little stubble on his face. But you mostly noticed his bright blue eyes, which looked straight at you very attentively.

“Sorry, what?” You said as you wiped sweat from your forehead with the sleeve of your shirt. 

“I asked if you needed help. Sorry, but it seems like you have some troubles.” He smiled at you almost shyly, and you couldn��t even make yourself mad at his words. 

“Um, It’s my first time doing it.” You awkwardly smiled back, finally putting a big ax to the ground. “But I need wood for my fireplace, so I have to work with what I have.”

“I see… but don’t you have a boyfriend or a husband? I mean, it’s not really easy to do for a woman, and you seem pretty... petite for this?” It almost sounded like a question. “I wanted to say that I can help you if you allow me, because that thing might be really dangerous if you don’t know how to work with it, and I'm a lumberjack, so... it’s not a problem for me.” He awkwardly started to rub his neck. “I’m Bucky, by the way.”

“For a woman?” You playfully arched an eyebrow. “So you think that only men can do this?” You saw how his eyes widened, and you tried to hold your laughter.

“No, no! That’s not what I meant!” He lifted both hands in the air. “It’s just gonna take you forever to do, and as I said before, It’s not the safest work. And since this is my job, I could’ve helped you. As a neighbor, you know?” 

“Relax, I’m just joking.” You softly smiled at him. “Nice to finally meet you. I’m Y/N.” You reached out your hand. Bucky’s face relaxed, but then his lips curled into a mischievous smile.

“I like you.” He said, as he shook your hand. His grip was tight, and you felt that he really did a lot of physical work with his hands.

“Oh… thanks?” 

“Soo, do you need help?” He asked again.

“Um, honestly, I don’t know. I can’t just let you work for me for free. Can I pay you?”

“Doll, I have enough money, and I don’t need yours. I don’t think that you need tons of firewood, so it would be easy work for me.”

“Okay, but maybe I can give you food? Pastry? I really love to cook, and everyone said that I’m good at it.” You nervously played with your sleeve while Bucky was staring directly at you.

“Deal. I would honestly die for homemade food, ‘cause last time I ate it was at my ma’s and I really miss it. But you don’t have to do this, okay?”

“And you don’t have to help me.” You shot back.

Bucky’s smile grew wider, and he started shaking his head. “You have some temper, doll... Friday is okay?” 

“Yeah, totally, any time you’re free.” 

“Deal. I should probably go, and you better start training to cook food for me. I am really picky, and you insisted on paying me with it.” He said and started to walk back.

“Oh, shut up.” You laughed. “I know what I’m doing; don’t underestimate me!” 

“Fine. See ya, doll.” Bucky waved at you with the biggest smile on his face and finally walked away.

Well, it’s gonna be interesting. 

For the next almost two months, Bucky had been “working” for you, and you paid him with your food every single time because you couldn’t leave that man starving after he just got home from work and then willingly helped you. 

You two got closer. Bucky was a really good man; you found out it while you were sitting in your backyard looking at how his muscles were moving with every swing of the ax. He was right that it wasn't a big deal for him—the job that you would’ve been doing for several hours he did in twenty or thirty minutes. 

The conversation with Bucky was easy, he was a pretty reserved person, but he still told you everything about his job and his friends and asked you things about your life. It was hard not to fall for him. Especially when he gave you this boyish smile every time it was time to say goodbye or when you brought him your homemade food. 

Usually he comes to your house every Friday after work around 6 p.m., but today it was already 8 and he still didn’t show up. There was no light in his windows either, so you became really worried that something serious had happened. 

You were nervously sitting on the bar stool in your kitchen while your dinner was getting cold on the stove. You really had no appetite. What if he got injured from his dangerous work? Or maybe you were just overreacting and he went on a date with someone? You really had no reason to be worried that much because Bucky probably didn’t even think of you as a close friend, and you were just a too dramatic person with attachment issues. 

The light knock on the door scared you a little bit, but you still jumped out of your seat to open it. 

Bucky was standing there, visually perfectly fine and without any injuries, and you sighed with relief. 

“Bucky, oh my god, hi. Are you okay? I was really worried about you, and I don’t even have your phone number to text or call.” You mumbled as your eyes studied his face. 

“Hey, doll.” Bucky softly smiled at you, but it was obvious that he wasn’t really in the mood. “I’m fine. Just a shitty day at work. My boss went fucking crazy over nothing, and it was just a mess.” He ran a hand through his long hair. “But I have to do your firewood, so I'll go change and be back in a few minutes, ‘kay?”

He started to go back, but you caught him by his wrist. “No, Buck, wait. You don’t have to do it right now, really. I have enough wood, and you’re really exhausted. Come in; I have fresh lasagna and chocolate muffins.” 

“Um—are you sure? I mean, you don’t have to.” He mumbled. You noticed that you were still holding his wrist, but decided to leave it that way. 

“Don’t worry, I have enough food, and you look like you really need it. C’mon, don’t you want to eat something homemade and still hot after a bad day at work?” You gave him your best smile, and it was obvious in his eyes that he already agreed to your idea. 

“Okay, we can do that. Honestly, I feel like I’m able to eat a fucking elephant.” 

You both shared a laugh before you almost dragged him into your house and closed the door. Only at that moment did you realize that even though you gave Bucky a lot of food, he had never been at your place before. For some reason, you felt really excited to feed him and spend some time together. 

“Sit here while I’m heating the food.” Bucky obediently took a seat, looking with a soft smile at how you were moving around in your little kitchen.

You looked so domestic and soft in the warm yellow lights of the room in the cute pink cotton dress with little flowers all over it. The concentration was written all over your face as you tried to perfectly set plates and cutlery on the table and then put steaming lasagna on it.

“Fuck, it smells so good; you’re going to kill me, doll.” He wasn’t able to handle the amazing smell of food right in front of him. 

Your cheeks heated, and you waved your hand at him. “It’s just lasagna, Buck; don’t be dramatic.” You took a place near him, and you both started to eat your food. 

“I’m not being dramatic. I already told you that, besides my ma, you have the best food in the world. I could’ve eaten it three times a day for the rest of my life and not gotten tired of it.” He took another big bite, moaning as the taste filled his mouth. 

“You’re making me blush. No one ever told me this.”

“That’s my intention, doll. What, none of your boyfriends complemented your skills? Because I would’ve put the ring on that finger way too fast.” You looked at each other for a few seconds until you noticed that he had already finished his portion. 

“Do you want more?” Ignoring his previous words, you stood up and took his plate to give him some extra food. The dress gently flew around your thighs, drawing Bucky’s attention to your legs when you turned around. “Anyway, what happened at work? You mentioned your boss.”

“Ugh, Pierce is a fucking dipshit. Everyone there hates him, but he has too much money, so we can’t do anything. Me and Steve have really been on bad terms with him since the first day. He tries to tell us how to do our work, but his head is so far up in his ass that he can’t even listen to what we say.” You returned to your place and put a plate in front of Bucky again. The frown took place on his face while he was talking about Pierce, so you put a hand on top of his without even thinking. 

“He sounds like a total asshole. I’m sorry that you guys have to work for him.” Bucky’s face softened at your action. He flipped his hand so he could interlace your fingers, and you felt the warm feeling all over your body. 

You both definitely felt something, but you still stayed silent, enjoying the connection. It was obvious that you had feelings for each other. It was just hard to admit out loud, and, honestly, Bucky was so scared that you might think that he did all of this just to get into your pants. Which is not true. Well, he doesn’t mind, but it’s not his only intention. He wants to treat you right and ask you out on a date. 

Back then, he felt so bold and offered to help you with the firewood with the hope of getting to know you better. Steve and Sam obviously knew about his new “work” and teased him about it all day long. Unfortunately, he still didn’t find the right moment to ask you out. Those times when he came to you on Friday evenings and you were watching him work in your cute dresses or little pajamas were Bucky’s favorites. You looked so soft, cozy, and domestic that he wished to see you like this every day. 

After the last piece of a chocolate muffin disappeared in Bucky’s mouth and he let out a moan of satisfaction, he sat in your kitchen with closed eyes and a smile on his face. 

“If I had to have a shitty day just to get this type of meal at the end of the day, I’m ready for it.”

“Bucky!” You laughed at his dramatic words. “You don’t have to have a bad day. I can feed you just because.” 

“Well, you said it yourself. Now you won’t get rid of me.” You both laughed. Then he suddenly got up and started to put plates in the sink. “You sit, and I’ll wash the dishes.”

“No, Bucky, that’s not how it works!” You got up and caught him by his bicep. Really hard and big bicep. 

“Yes, it is. You’re cooking, then I’m cleaning.” He tried to get away from your grip to turn on the water, but you only held him stronger, now with both of your hands on his arms. 

“Bucky.” When he was standing so close to you, you realized your size and height difference, and it made you shiver. You turned your head up to look him in the eyes. “You are my guest; you shouldn’t do this.”

“My mother taught me to always help women because they are not our maids.” He stepped a little bit closer. “But if you’re saying this only because you want me to leave, I can do that.”

You were both looking at each other, and what you saw in his eyes made you weak in the knees. 

“No, no, I don’t want you to leave.” Your hands moved higher and fell on the sides of his neck. It was everything Bucky needed to finally kiss you.

Two large and rough hands took your face to bring your lips closer to Bucky’s height. He was gentle yet so passionate, and he slowly moved his lips against yours. It was mind-blowing how desperately you wanted him to devour you, to destroy you. While your hands were discovering his broad chest and shoulders, you felt that your body was suddenly lifted in the air and then placed on the kitchen counter.

Now that Bucky didn’t have to lean over to your height, it was easier to kiss you properly. His tongue brushed over your lips to ask for entrance, which you happily gave. Bucky felt too addicted to your taste, your smell, and the feeling of your smaller body against him. It drove him crazy.

“I've wanted to do that since the day I looked at you.” The hands on your hips tightened and moved you closer to his body. “You look so pretty, God.” Bucky’s eyes are running all over your face, trying to memorize every little thing.

“Bucky...” You dragged him closer again, desperate to connect your lips. His large hands wandered all over your body, slightly pulling up your dress and then moving higher and cupping your breasts in them. “I thought you were tired.” His large erection was obvious through his jeans, and you wanted to tease him. 

“I’m never tired for you, doll.” He mumbled against your lips. “I could’ve fucked you right on this table, but I’ll leave it for the next time. Where’s your bedroom?” You didn’t miss the promise to fuck you again, and your body felt ecstatic just because of this thought.

“Up the stairs, second door from the right.” 

Bucky didn’t say a word before your world suddenly moved, and you ended up hanging from his shoulder. Your bare ass was probably right near his face, and you couldn’t help but blush. 

He stormed up the stairs with one hand on your thigh, as if your weight on his shoulder was nothing, and then walked into your main bedroom. 

You were thrown onto your bed, and Bucky stayed in front of you for a few seconds to remember this picture. Swollen lips, eyes full of need, a short dress that pulled up and showed a glimpsing of your white underwear. Yes, you were perfect, and only for him. 

“Come here, Buck.” You raised your hands in his direction, and he obediently climbed on top of you with a smirk on his face.

He sat between your legs, moving his hands up and down the soft skin of your thighs.

“Such a pretty doll for me, in this cute lil’ dress, mm?” His body was hovering over you, and when he found a zipper on the back of your dress, you ended up lying under him only in your white lingerie set in less than a minute. 

The pair of the most beautiful blue eyes devoured your naked body as soon as the piece of clothing was removed, and you had never seen a man look at you this way. Like you were the most beautiful, delicious, and priceless thing in the world. Bucky’s hands gently touched your body from the shoulders to your legs, and you swear that you heard a moan while he was doing it.

“Sweetheart.” He mumbled and leaned to gently kiss the soft skin of your belly, moving with little kisses higher until he reached your lips. “You’re killing me, you know that?” 

“Shut up and kiss me, Barnes.” It was impossible to think straight when his pretty face was right in front of you and his muscular body pushed you deeper into the mattress of your bed. He kissed you as you asked, but it didn’t last long before he pulled away with a grin on his face. You gently brushed his brown locks out of his face and tucked them behind his ears.

“So bossy, dollface... Do I have to fuck this attitude out of you?”

“Mmm, undress, and we’ll see what you are capable of.” You shot back at him, and he just moved away with a smirk on his face. 

In a few seconds, a red henley was thrown somewhere on the floor, and you were face to face with a body that was probably made by the Greek gods. Muscles on muscles, with tanned skin and freckles from the work under the sun. Now you wanted to climb him like a fucking tree.

“Like what you see?” His smirk became wider as he saw the look on your face: slightly parted lips and darkened eyes that were looking at him up and down. Bucky's hands went straight to the belt of his pants, and with the last movement, he was standing in your almost dark bedroom completely naked. 

You almost choked on your saliva when he pulled down his pants and boxers at the same time. He was thick and long, with an angry red head. 

“No way this is gonna fit me…”

“It will, doll. I’ll take care of it. I bet this pretty little pussy will just suck me in.” 

It was over for you. You knew that. A handsome, respectful man with a perfect body and dirty mouth? Yes, he can do whatever he wants with you.

He returned to your bed, sitting in between your spread legs. He didn’t waste any more time when he reached behind your back and unbuttoned your bra. Bucky stood on his knees so perfectly that his dick landed on your covered pussy, and it made you both moan out loud. 

“Look at this, doll. ‘M gonna destroy her.” His hips slightly moved, and because your panties were soaking wet, it was so smooth and perfect. “Can you imagine that? I will stretch you out so well that I’ll ruin any other men for you. Make you–and her– mine.” He reached with one of his hands to your tits and squeezed your nipple between his fingers, while the other one was keeping your legs apart so he would be able to move his hips. 

You tried to close your legs by instinct. The tip of his cock again and again brushed right on your clit, and the slight pain from your nipple made you desperately moan and clench your bedsheets.

“Are you going to cum, pretty girl? Im not even inside of you, and you’re already a fucking mess.” Bucky’s rough voice was so sexy that it made you even wetter, if that was possible. He saw that you were close: by the way your breathing changed and how your eyes rolled back in your head. “C'mon, just let it go. Soak those panties even more.” His movements on your most sensitive parts of the body didn’t stop, and it threw you over the edge.

You were squeezing around nothing, and the most inappropriate and dirty moan escaped your mouth. It was something that you'd never experienced before, and it was so intense that you needed some time to get over it.

“Good girl.” Bucky grabbed your face and connected your lips, giving you another wet and sloppy kiss. 

Then, without hesitation, Bucky’s hands took off the last piece of your clothing, leaving you completely naked for his hungry eyes. He stared at your body up and down for a few seconds and then closed his eyes to take a deep breath and calm himself down. 

“Bucky, please, I need you so much.” You almost cried, trying to grab him and put his body on top of yours, but Bucky was much larger than you, so it was almost impossible.

Bucky finally calmed down a little bit, and he interlaced his right hand with your left, pinning it above your head. His body softly landed on you, and skin-to-skin contact sent shivers down your spine. He was now looking you right in the eyes, and judging by his facial expressions, he either wanted to fuck you lifeless or cuddle and hold you closely.

“Tell me if it’s too much, okay?” Bucky’s soft side came out again, and you slightly nodded, giving him permission to continue. The little silver square appeared in his hand out of nowhere before he ripped the package with his teeth and put a condom on. 

You honestly tried to hold back the little bit of disappointment you felt when he decided to use protection. It was smart. You weren’t longtime partners, it was a question of your safety. But the tiny voice in your head told you that you would’ve let him fuck you without it. To feel his perfect d–

Your thoughts were cut off with a deep chuckle. “You look like you’re sad that I put on a condom, doll.” You swear that his eyes darkened when you stayed silent. “If you want it later, I’ll fuck you raw, ‘kay? But now neither of us can think straight.” 

“Are you a perfect man?” You laughed.

“I don’t know, let’s find out.” Your smile faded as soon as you felt the head of his dick at your entrance.

You were still sensitive from your previous orgasm, so when Bucky started teasing you again, rubbing you up and down to cover himself in your slick, you nearly lost it. 

“Bucky, please.” You whine, grabbing the side of his torso with your free hand. “Don’t tease me, please, I can’t—” 

Your words died as Bucky finally pushed inside of you. Your head fell deeper into your soft bed, and Bucky’s body tensed on top of you, trying to hold back a deep moan. 

It was overwhelming. He stretched you out so deliciously that you felt pain and inexplicable pleasure. No one ever made you feel this way—like you were on cloud nine and the man on top of you didn’t even actually fuck you yet. 

“You’re squeezing me so hard that I might cum like a teenager—fuck!” He groaned, squeezing your hand harder. “Relax, baby, I’ll take care of you.”

You tried to relax as much as you could with a dick buried deep inside of you, and Bucky was finally able to move.

Well, if it felt good earlier, then the first movement of his hips probably sent you right to heaven. Bucky cupped your face with his left hand, locking your eyes together, when he started thrusting at a slow pace. 

“So pretty for me, doll. You feel my cock in your stomach, huh?” Bucky’s lips almost touched yours when he talked, but it felt like he was too far away from you. “Good girl, take me so well. Knew that this pussy would be my death.” 

“More... harder, please, fuck me harder.” You spoke in between moans, gazing intently at Bucky's pretty face.

He started fucking you harder. Your bed was slamming your wall, but it didn’t bother you as much as the fact that he was hitting your G-spot with every thrust. You were a fucking whining mess under him, with a slightly open mouth and a drunk-looking face.

“Suck it like a good girl you are.” His thumb slipped into your mouth, and you moaned, doing as he said. “Your pussy is already sucking the shit out of me. Are you going to cum, baby? Going to make a mess on my cock while I fuck you? Imagine if I fucked you raw and filled you up with my load. I bet you’d like that.” The finger went deeper into your mouth, making you gag. You nodded your head as much as you could at Bucky’s words because you were already ready to cum.

“Give it to me, baby.” Bucky growled, sucking on your neck. His hips slammed into yours, making the nastiest noise, but it turned you on even more. A finger slipped out of your mouth, and Bucky’s face was in front of you again. “Fuuuck, I’m gonna cum.”

“M-m, B-bucky! Don't stop, pl– ahhh!” The wave of the best orgasm of your fucking life washed over you. You swear the stars started dancing behind your closed eyes as you endlessly squeezed Bucky’s cock and his body.

The way you were moaning, how your eyes rolled back, and how your whole body trembled pushed Bucky over the edge. A few last movements in your soaking wet pussy and he came, feeling almost lifeless, as if you had sucked the whole energy out of him.

He let go of your hand, which this whole time he held above your head, and cupped your face with both of his hands, kissing away the tears you didn’t even notice.

“Y/N? Baby? Are you okay?” He whispered and moved your head a little bit so your eyes were directed at him. You looked like you were high or really drunk, but he couldn’t argue with the fact that you were the prettiest woman on earth.

“I– it’s like I don't feel my body anymore.” You lazily mumbled and closed your eyes. “No one ever fucked me like this.” 

“Glad to hear that, doll.” Bucky leaned closer and kissed your soft lips with more delicacy and tenderness. “Do you need anything? Food, water, bath?”

“No… Can you just hug me and stay here for the night?” You asked, now afraid that he would leave since he got what he wanted.

“Sure, just let me get rid of this thing, and I’ll still get you some water.” He kissed you on the forehead before carefully untangling his body from yours. You hissed at the new empty and a little bit aching feeling inside of you. “I’m sorry, baby.” 

Bucky threw a condom in the basket under your table and, putting on only his boxers, came down to the kitchen to get you a bottle of water. But when he came back, he saw that you had already fallen asleep.

You looked so cute—still naked, with a peaceful expression on your face, laying in the middle of your messy bed. He thought about whether he should disturb your sleep or not, but you asked him to stay, right? Bucky hesitated for a few seconds, but then came closer to you, placed the bottle on the nightstand, and carefully scooped you into his hands, pushing away the covers. He put you back down, and then you opened your eyes. 

“C’mere…” You mumbled, still sleepy, and grabbed his hand.

Bucky quietly chuckled and got under the cover, hugging you from the back. You happily sighed before drifting back to sleep. Bucky kissed you in the hair, hugged you harder, and fell to sleep with you in his arms.

You woke up a little bit disoriented, trying to figure out what happened last night. 

The bed beside you was empty, but the aching feeling between your legs proved that it wasn’t a dream. You, in fact, fucked your hot lumberjack neighbor. But where did he go?

You found some random oversized t-shirt and walked down the stairs. Everything was silent; your kitchen was empty but crystal clean. Did Bucky just leave? 

Wait a minute. 

Yesterday there was a mess from your cooking and dinner with Bucky.

Now the room was almost shining. 

You looked around in confusion until you noticed a piece of paper on the table. 

All of your bad thoughts disappeared as soon as you read it, and you felt butterflies go crazy in your stomach.

[memecatwings]

btw i started black clover and i would just like to state for the record that it is not good. its kind of serving wattpad original fiction if im being honest

[kooberryfields4ever]

lucky

hello !!!!!!! was not expecting this to get as long as it did nor did i expect the turn but what can i say i am a creature driven by self satisfaction……… :( anyways originally this was gonna be like a 1k max drabble bc i rewatched jks sleepy eepy sweetie live and he was twitching and looked so pretty that i HAD to write something domestic !!!! but i am an ANIMAL and thinking about jungkook sleepy in the morning made me feral😇 hope u enjoy!!!!!!!!

wc: 2500+

content warnings : fluff & smut below the cut, light nipple play, fingering, jungkook has a cute panty kink(?), jungkook is an unstoppable force, unprotected piv sex, gendered terms (the word “girl” is used & detailed desc of female anatomy), messy orgasm

MDNI !

You’ve been awake for ten minutes now, just watching Jungkook twitch in his slumber. It’s early morning – a little after 8:00AM – and he looks so unbelievably beautiful under the gentle sunlight flittering through the blinds. With a soft smile on your lips, your eyes trail over his eyebrows, paying attention to how they raise and drop in his unconsciousness, moving down to his relaxed jaw and the divots of his shoulder blades when your gaze lowers. The gentle rise and fall of his back as he breathes and the fist that keeps clenching and unclenching while you lay beside him makes your smile widen. Jungkook is a breath-taking sight, looking so at peace while you observe him. His muscles are softer in their unflexed state and you can’t help it when your finger finds his right triceps and paints shapes over it. His tattoos are next on your list of targets, and soon your wandering finger is tracing the inked motifs like you’re re-carving them into his skin, following the lines and curves of the patterns as if they were new to you.  

They are very much not new to you, though. You think you’ve studied them over a hundred times, committed them to memory, made them so indelible in your mind that you’re sure you could redraw them perfectly if he ever asked. You chance at moving your touch to his fingers, watching his face amusedly when you lift his hand to inspect them and he furrows his brow. The soft letters adorning the bones of his joints are met with the pad of your thumb as you stroke them adoringly, fighting the desperate urge to kiss his calloused palm when the tips of your fingers press against the rough skin. Your fingers don’t get to explore for long before he opens a single eye suspiciously, curling his fingers around your hand to stop you. 

“Good morning,” his voice is deeper, sluggish, yet gentle still through the rasp. “You having fun?” 

“I was,” you smirk, intertwining your fingers with his instinctually, “until you so rudely interrupted me.” His thumb rubs your knuckles sleepily, bringing them to his lips for a chaste kiss, turning onto his back, pulling you closer to his chest and tucking his other hand behind his head. 

“Mm, my bad.” Comes his short reply, blinking his eyes open once again to find yours. His fingers card through your hair when you sit up on your elbows, leaning against his solid frame. His tongue darts out to lick his bottom lip while you allow yourself to continue observing him from above now that he’s awake.  

“Do you know you twitch a lot in your sleep?” You ask, reaching over to rub some sleep from the corner of his eye. Your thumb runs over his cheek, then down to his lower lip, dragging it down playfully and watching it bounce back when you let go abruptly. He shakes his head slightly to answer your question but sits quietly, content to just let you fiddle, fondly mirroring the smile you offer him when you lean forward to press your foreheads together. “I should’ve filmed it. You almost knocked me out.” 

“Instead of leaving me in peace?” He quirks a brow, tilting his head back to press a kiss to your lips quickly before lowering it again. “I don’t think I’m capable of hurting you, even if I’m unconscious. It’s written out of my biological code.”  

You giggle, shaking your head. “As if I would’ve let you anyway, we both know I'd win in a fight.” 

Your lips chase his naturally, and he hums sweetly when you connect them again, smirking. “Is that a challenge?” He mumbles into your mouth, you feel his hands snake around your waist, pulling you closer still before flipping you onto your back effortlessly. He continues kissing you like that. 

“Because I really beg to differ,” he ruses, trailing a hand down to the back of your thigh to hold your leg up against his hip. “Think I’d win in a heartbeat.” Another kiss. “How easy was it for me to get you like this?” His hips move against yours in a slow motion, making you very aware of a growing presence between his legs as it presses against you through all your layers of clothing. 

“You play dirty, that’s why,” you joke back, pushing your palm against his forehead. He moves away from your lips to attach his mouth to your neck, kissing down to your collarbone delicately, the same way your fingers did to him minutes ago. “Caught me off guard, that’s- that’s not fair,” the small moan that leaves you after your stutter is unintentional. Curse Jungkook and how easily your body gives in to his ministrations. You loathe the way he seems to revel in it too, snickering when he moves his hips again. 

You lean your head back against the pillows when he pushes your tank top up over your tits and you can feel his lips enclose around your nipple. It’s not a fair fight, Jungkook knows that. Knows that when his teeth brush against the darker flesh it’ll pebble against his tongue. Knows that when his hands slip down past your waist and hips, your legs will spread instinctually for him. Knows that when your fingers tangle in his hair, he’s got you.  

“Could die between your tits,” His muffled voice knocks you out of your pleasured trance, and you hum in acknowledgement. He’s resting his face between your breasts rather lovingly now, kissing the skin between them with a hand on your waist. The hand tangled in his hair falls to his nape, scratching at the baby hairs grown out from his last haircut.  

“I wouldn’t encourage you to.” 

“Couldn’t be the worst fate.” 

His response has you rolling your eyes, “No, a worse fate would be me beating you to a pulp because you thought you’d win in a wrestling match against me.” He chuckles, looking up at you and resting his chin on your chest with a soft pout. 

“Seemed to like my approach a second ago,” he murmurs, crawling back up your body to kiss you again. There’s no underlying motive behind it, he just really likes your lips on his. You give in because, despite your argumentative nature, you like his lips too. He kisses you lazily, knee slotted between your legs, half-heartedly holding his body up to stop himself from leaning all of his weight on you. Your arms drape naturally over his shoulders and around his neck to keep him there, and you can feel his smile against your lips. 

“You still hard?” His only response is the subtle grind of his hips against yours in affirmation and a slight lowering of his hand on your waist, on a slow but steady mission. 

“Should I be offended that you don’t seem to be doing anything about it?” 

“Gettin’ to it, jus’ let me kiss you.” He licks into your mouth sweetly, chasing the taste of you. Tries to pull you impossibly closer when you chuckle, spurring him on even more. He bites your lower lip, his wandering hand finally slipping past the waistband of your pyjama pants and brushing over your underwear. You can feel him smirk when he finds the small bow on the front, parting from your lips to slip your pants down to get a good look at them. They’re childish, pink and polka dotted and old; you’ve had them since before you and Jungkook even started dating but hardly wear them anymore. 

“Cute.” Is all he says, and you roll your eyes before reaching down to pull them off. He grabs your wrists, meeting your eyes sternly. “Keep ‘em on.” 

You slip your hands from his grasp, nodding hesitantly but obediently. You watch him curiously when he focuses his entire attention on your clothed pussy, entranced by it, pressing his fingers against the damp fabric to watch it cling to the shape of you, darkening with your arousal. 

“Fuck, they’re so cute, baby,” he babbles, not really even speaking directly to you, just thinking out loud, “can I fuck you with them on?” He asks sweetly, kissing your chest and keeping an eye on you as he waits for your answer. You nod, combing your fingers through his hair when he peppers more kisses across your tits as a thank you. He pushes the fabric aside slightly to gain access to your pussy with no restrictions, not hesitating to sink his middle and index fingers past your opening. He knows you’re wet enough, preening when he hears your breaths turn to soft moans. He’s so familiar with your body now that curling his fingers up against your g-spot is second nature to him. You encourage him wordlessly, watching him work while his head still rests on your chest.  

He knows you, so when you start to tighten around him and your moans turn into held breaths, he withdraws from you. You go to protest, furrowing your brow annoyedly, but he shushes you.  

“Gonna have you come on my dick, baby.” There’s a brief pause while he separates from you to push his boxers down and take your pyjamas bottoms fully off too, grunting when he strokes himself languidly above you before rubbing his tip between your dripping folds, still fascinated by the panties he made you keep on. 

“So pretty,” he coos, and for lack of better judgement, you nod. “So fuckin’ wet, love when you get like this for me. All for me.” He’s egging you on, coating himself in your arousal and pressing his forehead to yours when he sinks the mushroom tip of his cock past your opening. It’s calculated and slow, you think it’s to tease you, to prolong your frustration even longer; truthfully, it’s because Jungkook is embarrassingly close and wants to make himself last as long as he can. 

“You wore these the first time I fucked you,” he admits, sinking deeper into your walls and breathing against your lips, “all I could think about for the rest of that week was getting to fuck you again, you were so perfect.” He pulls out slowly, before pushing back in, deeper this time. You let out a half-moan, half-breath, and he repeats until he’s fully seated inside of you. 

“Wanted to fuck you with them on then, too, thought they were so cute.” 

“Why didn’t you?” 

“Thought it was pervy, thinking your panties were cute and wanting to keep them on,” he chuckles, kissing you gently and quickening the pace of his hips to fuck you faster, “think you would’ve thought I was a creep, wouldn’t have let me. Was easier to make you think I just wanted to take my time undressing you.” 

“You’re right, I wouldn’t have.” 

“Mm, you’re well trained now.” 

His words get him a slap at the back of his head, and he laughs with you. The amusement doesn’t last long however, and soon he’s hiding his face in your shoulder to piston his cock in and out of you. You curse under your breath, letting him grip your thigh to guide your knee to your chest, wanting to fuck you deeper. He tuts, frustrated at the fact that he can’t get as deep as he wants, and soon your knees are over his shoulders with his hands holding your hips while he fucks you vigorously. He’s grunting animalistically, his tip prodding your cervix over and over, the corona of his cock rubbing deliciously against your g-spot every time he pulls back.  

“Touch yourself.” He instructs from your shoulder. It’s gentle, you know he doesn’t mean to come across as commanding but you like it anyway. You’re quick to obey, of course, and soon you’re trailing a hand down to your own pussy to start rubbing at your clit. He wants you to finish, that much is apparent, and you assume it’s because he’s trying to hold off his own orgasm for you. It’s wordless between you when you feel the familiar band in your stomach begin to tighten, and your free hand wanders across his broad back, digging your fingernails into his shoulder blades in such a contrasting way to how you were so gentle only ten minutes ago. He grunts, knows you’re close because you’re clenching around him and he can feel you holding your breath. He kisses your collarbone as silent encouragement, and a few more strokes has you coming undone around him, finally releasing your breath and pulsing around him in a way that has you nearly pushing him out. 

“Gonna come, where you want it?” He asks quietly, knows your answer but wants to hear it. You always want it inside, and Jungkook is always more than happy to oblige. 

“On my panties.” Comes your surprising reply, and Jungkook’s pupils dilate to proportions you didn’t think were physically possible. He stops moving, dropping his grip on your hips to brace his hands against the sides of your head and hold himself up above you.  

“I think I’m gonna throw up,” he jokes, dipping down to kiss you fervently, picking up the pace of his hips again, “you’re so fucking perfect, you want me to come all over your panties, baby? Want me to make a mess?” 

You’re not stupid, you know as much as the next girl that if there’s anything a man likes more than coming inside, it’s staking his claim. Of course, semen washes off - but the thought of Jungkook painting your panties white even makes your stomach flip. You nod, and he doesn’t need any more persuasion before he pulls out of you and sits up in order to stroke himself, a singular goal in mind. Your panties are still tucked to the side so he can see all of you as his fist pumps his cock quickly. You observe him, his cock is still wet from your arousal and his tip is so swollen and red that you’re unsure how he lasted even this long. As expected, he doesn’t last very long, and soon thick white ropes of come are shooting from his tip and coating your pussy and the fabric of your panties. He’s shuddering, curling over on himself before collapsing beside you on the bed. 

“C’mere,” he pants out, slipping his arms around your middle and pulling you toward him, “this was your plan all along, wasn’t it?” 

“Really wasn’t, I was doting on you.” 

“Feeling me up is ‘doting’ now?” 

You push him away playfully, but he keeps his grip on you, laughing when you turn around to get away from him. He pulls you back towards him and spoons you.  

“I was being cute and you made it pervy, like always.” He can hear the pout in your voice, so he mumbles something in agreement. Knows there’s no winning here when he just came all over your panties like some kind of neanderthal. He rubs his hand over your belly, kissing your shoulder blade affectionately to keep you close. Your own hands cover his, intertwining your fingers once again and snuggling sweetly into him. 

a/n 🗒️ as always tysm for reading !!! if u have anything to say pls do i love to hear from ppl and reflecting on criticism is my driving force 💆‍♀️ reqs/asks are open !!!!

[princesschimchim1325]

Sing for us, darling~

Dan Feng and Yingxing want to hear the noises their wife makes as they pleasure her, to let it be known to the whole Xianzhou Luofu that she belongs to them.

(Or you get sandwiched between your horny husbands)

Warnings: 3rd POV, fem & afab reader, reader is an adult, reader got bomb pussy game, overstimulation, groping, double penetration in the same hole, creampie, vaginal fingering, Dan Feng has two cocks and a voyeur kink, Yingxing is 41 (reader wants to fuck those old men so bad), Dan Feng is a menace, Yingxing is a charming old man, they are both possessive and horny as hell, a surprise at the end. (Fūrén - wife, bǎobèi - treasure)

Word count : 1,904 words

This can be read in the same universe as my dragoness reader idea but can be read as a standalone.

This could also be read in the same universe as my mutual's @philistiniphagottini's "god-ish" smut fic.

Likes, Comments & Reblogs are welcome!

DO NOT REPOST, OR FEED TO AI 🚫🚫🚫

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Under the pale moon, the wind made the trees rustle and flowers sway. The cold breeze would make any passerby shiver, enough to make their teeth chatter.  Everyone had worn thicker coats and lit up their fireplaces to stay warm.

Everyone except for the lovers in the High Elder's residence. Said High Elder was lounging on an armchair, his face propped up by his fist and an ankle atop his knee, an air of haughtiness befitting of man his caliber and position. Dan Feng was facing the master’s bed, calculating ocean green eyes swept over the attractive forms of his spouses.

His husband, Yingxing, was sitting on the edge of the large bed, completely bare. His long silver hair lay loose and flowing behind his muscled back. Sitting on his lap, was a jewel far more precious than any stone found in the Luofu, their beloved wife. 

And what a sight she was.

Her back was pressed against Yingxing’s broad chest, her front facing Dan Feng. Her lovely face was scrunched in frustration, sighing as Yingxing kissed and lavished her shoulders with love bites and hickeys, his large and calloused hands groped her breasts. And what was one of the most erotic sights he has ever seen in his centuries of living, her greedy pussy swallowing Yingxing’s length and if he looked hard enough, he could see a bulge on her stomach as Yingxing stuffed her full. 

Their shared bedchamber was filled with the loud wet sounds of Yingxing open mouthed kisses and their wife’s lovely moans, or as he and Yingxing liked to call them, song. His own hard cocks were pressing painfully against his trousers but he paid it no mind. The erotic sight in front of him was far more important. 

“Enjoying the show, A-Feng?” His Yingxing inquired, a smirk on his handsome face. His large hands slid from her breasts, trailing down until they slipped under her thighs, only to suddenly spread them wider, jostling the woman on his lap and causing her to throw her head back and sobbed. 

“Indeed. Dare I say, your little ‘show’ is the most enjoyable production I ever had the pleasure of witnessing.” 

He rose from his seat as he answered, taking off his white blazer as he did. Perhaps their little game went on long enough, they started at nightfall and now the moon was already high in the sky. Their poor wife must be so pent up, being cockwarmed and teased by Yingxing, but being told she wasn’t allowed to cum.

As he neared his two beloveds, their wife gazed at him with glassy eyes, cheeks wet from tears of frustration. She shakily reached out to him with her left hand and he caught her midway, holding her smaller hand and leaning down to place a kiss on her palm. 

“A-Feng…A-Xing has been so mean to me..” she whined as Dan Feng kissed her neck, trailing up to her ear, just below her earlobe. 

“Hmm, is that so?” He hummed, smirking as she yelped when he bit down on a particularly sensitive patch of skin and licked it as a form of apology.

“Oh, fūrén, this was our dearest High Elder’s idea. I am merely doing my part in his script~” Yingxing laughed, placing an unapologetic kiss on her hair. 

The High Elder pulled away to take his long gloves and the rest of his imperial garbs off, piece by piece revealing a lean yet powerful build, with broad shoulders, narrow waist and hips. 

“...You scoundrels. How could you be so mean to your wife?” she complained, writhing on top of the Furnace master’s lap, unconsciously tightening in the process and causing the man to groan. 

“Desperate now, are we?” Yingxing hissed, hands gripping her thighs in a bruising hold to stop her from squirming. 

Dan Feng, finally bare, had taken his place between his wife’s spread legs and replaced Yingxing’s hands gripping her thighs with his own. His cocks standing proudly against his toned stomach. 

Yingxing’s left hand returned to groping her breast and tweaking her hardened nipple with his fingers, while his right hand trailed up to her smooth neck, caressing it before gently gripping her throat. 

Dan Feng rubbed both of his cocks against her puffy clit, using her and Yingxing’s combined wetness as lube before taking one of his hardness and lining it up her hole that was still stretched around Yingxing’s cock. 

Slowly, he filled her up, one cock rubbing against Yingxing’s and her spongy walls, his other cock was sliding between her puffy folds and clit. Dan Feng pulled his husband into a searing kiss over their wife’s shoulder, making a show of their tongues dancing. He could feel her tighten up at the sight of their display. 

Inch by inch, he slid into her wet heat, until he pressed up against her cervix alongside Yingxing. He pulled away from his husband only to kiss his wife next, equally as passionate. 

Their beloved wife was panting when he pulled away, a thin strand of saliva connecting their lips before it snapped. 

A few moments of silence before sounds of debauchery filled their shared bedroom. Each sensual roll of their hips had their darling wife keening, throwing her head back and bumping against Yingxing’s collarbone, tears of pleasure streaming down her lovely face. 

“Mmmph! A-Xing, ah! A-Feng! Too deep! Please, too deep!” She sobbed. How cute, yet she clung to them like they’re her lifelines. 

Their hips moved in sync, when one thrusts in, one pulls out and vice versa, making sure their wife is in the precipice of pleasure and overstimulation. Their cocks were alternating in slamming against her cervix, causing her to moan even louder. 

In her desperation to keep herself grounded, her hands found themselves digging into different parts of her husbands. One hand reached behind her to grasp and pull at Yingxing’s long silver locks, making him groan. The other reached behind Dan Feng to rake her sharp nails down his back, leaving thin scratches that are deep enough to bleed. Dan Feng threw his head back, moaning at the pleasure before hissing from the stinging pain.

Yingxing, never one to let his spouses one up him, let the hand groping her breast trail down her soft stomach before suddenly pressing down on the bulge caused by their cocks. 

“Ah! Yingxing, please!” How adorable, she was starting to slur her words a bit. 

Yingxing couldn’t help but chuckle, “Close, love?” 

Their poor darling, already so close while being lovingly fucked, their cocks overcrowding her poor cunt while their hands groped her breasts, the pudge of her hips, or pressing down on the bulge of her stomach in a dazed fascination of how well she’s taking both of their cocks. 

Their normally stoic and quiet wife reduced to an incoherent mess, moaning only their names. 

Both husbands groaned at the same time when they felt her tighten, impossibly tight. Dan Feng reached down to draw circles on her engorged clit, making her cry out even louder to the point he might get complaints in the morning even though his estate is built farther away from other citizens. 

“Mmph! Ah! A-Feng, A-Xing! Please, I’m going to–ah!” Before their darling wife could even finish her sentence, she came, or rather, she squirted right at Dan Feng’s abdomen. 

Her sudden orgasm triggered Yingxing’s own orgasm and she could feel herself being filled to the brim with the copious amount of his warm and thick cum. Dan Feng followed not too long after him. 

She hiccuped in pleasure as she’s filled again, this time by Dan Feng’s cum, warm and thick, and just as abundant as Yingxing’s. 

Once the cloud of pleasure had dissipated, she watched in mortification how her cum that splashed her husband, dripped down the planes of muscles his blessed body has. 

He didn’t even look mad, if anything, he looked downright pleased by the turn of events with his telling smile and the mirth present in his eyes. Behind her, she could feel the rumble of Yingxing’s barking laugh. 

“Oh, you did so well, darling. Look, you even made his other cock cum.” Yingxing cooed, nuzzling into her hair. 

She looked down and saw that Yingxing was right, Dan Feng’s neglected cock had cum as well, his spent dripping from her chest to her stomach. 

“Hmm, you took both of us well. How are you feeling, băobèi? Are you hurt?” Dan Feng kissed her forehead while checking her for any signs of harm. She could only shake her head in fondness. 

Dan Feng was the first to pull out, Yingxing following soon after him. She whimpered at the feeling of their cocks rubbing against her sensitive walls. 

Dan Feng watched in fascination how his and Yingxing’s combined cum dripped from their wife’s slightly gaping pussy, staining the bed and dripping onto the floor. 

Before anymore could drip out from her lewd hole, Dan Feng scooped the excess cum and fingered it back inside her, causing her to jolt and gasp

“Let’s not waste, shall we? It would be such a shame, no, fūrén?” He looked at her with such an infuriating look on his handsome face while his fingers played with his and Yingxing’s mixed cum inside her sore cunt. 

Yingxing’s large hands found their way to her breasts again, playing and groping her soft tits. All he gave her was a not-so apologetic kiss on the top of her hair.

“Ah! You-you scoundrels! Give this body of mine a break, won’t you?” their wife scowled but it broke into a pleasured moan when Dan Feng once again bit the sensitive part of her neck.

“Well, we did say we want you to sing, didn’t we, bǎobèi?”

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

Dan Heng shot out of his mattress, panting. Sweat dripped down his forehead as he tried to regulate his breathing, his heart beating so hard, it almost felt like it was going to burst out of his chest. 

He pressed his hand against his chest, his heart finally calming down. As he calmed down, he realized he had another problem, the hard on between his legs. Dan Heng groaned.

‘What the hell was that dream? No, that was too vivid to be something my mind conjured up. Was it a memory? If so, why the hell did I have a wet dream of Dan Feng and his spouses?’

He looked beside him, the woman sleeping next to him thankfully lay unaware of his dilemma. Her appearance had a striking resemblance to the woman in his dreams. He shook his head

He reached down to brush away the hair against her face, fingers slightly caressing her feathers. 

Well, whatever it was, he’ll deal with it tomorrow. 

••••••••••

Ren’s eyes opened, trying to adjust in the darkness of his room. He sat up before placing a hand on his face.

There was a moment of silence before the sounds of his hysterical laughter filled the room. 

“Of all the times, the memories of Yingxing decide to resurface now?” 

Ren laid in his bed again, facing the ceiling while his large and scarred hand dragged against his face, a smirk on his face. 

“Hah, I guess there is no escape for either of you. My bǎobèi, it won't be long until we're reunited...... And there is no place for you to hide, Yǐnyuè-jūn.”

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[inmyicyworld]

Firewood

Lumberjack! Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: When you decide to chop wood in your backyard, your hot neighbor, who happens to be a lumberjack, offers you some help.

Words count: 4.8k

Warnings: lumberjack bucky is the biggest warning tbh, SMUT, protected sex, size and praise kink, he has a big dick obviously, dirty talk, a lot of pet names.

Author’s note: enjoy🩷

*English is not my first language, sorry if you find any mistakes*

masterlist my ao3 ko-fi

“Hey, do you need help?” You stopped what you were doing. You breathed heavily, your arms ached, and you were already sweating. The man, your neighbor, whom you already saw a few times when you arrived home, was standing before you with his hands in his jeans pockets. 

He was attractive. Really handsome. Probably 6 feet tall, with broad shoulders and visibly a lot of muscles under the clothes. Yeah, that red Henley left nothing for your imagination. His dark hair was put in a low bun, and he had a little stubble on his face. But you mostly noticed his bright blue eyes, which looked straight at you very attentively.

“Sorry, what?” You said as you whipped sweat from your forehead with the sleeve of your shirt. 

“I asked if you needed help. Sorry, but it seems like you have some troubles.” He smiled at you almost shyly, and you couldn’t even make yourself mad at his words. 

“Um, It’s my first time doing it.” You awkwardly smiled back, finally putting a big ax to the ground. “But I need wood for my fireplace, so I have to work with what I have.”

“I see… but don’t you have a boyfriend or a husband? I mean, it’s not really easy to do for a woman, and you seem pretty... petite for this?” It almost sounded like a question. “I wanted to say that I can help you if you allow me, because that thing might be pretty dangerous if you don’t know how to work with it, and I'm a lumberjack, so... it’s not a problem for me.” He awkwardly started to rub his neck. “I’m Bucky, by the way.”

“For a woman?” You playfully arched an eyebrow. “So you think that only men can do this?” You saw how his eyes widened, and you tried to hold your laughter.

“No, no! That’s not what I meant!” He lifted both hands in the air. “It’s just gonna take you forever to do, and as I said before, It’s not the safest work. And since this is my job, I could’ve helped you. As a neighbor, you know?” 

“Relax, I’m just joking.” You softly smiled at him. “Nice to finally meet you. I’m Y/N.” You reached out your hand. Bucky’s face relaxed, but then his lips curled into a mischievous smile.

“I like you.” He said, as he shook your hand. His grip was tight, and you felt that he really did a lot of physical work with his hands.

“Oh… thanks?” 

“Soo, do you need help?” He asked again.

“Um, honestly, I don’t know. I can’t just let you work for me for free. Can I pay you?”

“Doll, I have enough money, and I don’t need yours. I don’t think that you need tons of firewood, so it would be easy work for me.”

“Okay, but maybe I can give you food? Pastry? I really love to cook, and everyone said that I’m good at it.” You nervously played with your sleeve while Bucky was staring directly at you.

“Deal. I would honestly die for homemade food, ‘cause last time I ate it was at my ma’s and I really miss it. But you don’t have to do this, okay?”

“And you don’t have to help me.” You shot back.

Bucky’s smile grew wider, and he started shaking his head. “You have some temper, doll... Friday is okay?” 

“Yeah, totally, any time you’re free.” 

“Deal. I should probably go, and you better start training to cook food for me. I am really picky, and you insisted on paying me with it.” He said and started to walk back.

“Oh, shut up.” You laughed. “I know what I’m doing; don’t underestimate me!” 

“Fine. See ya, doll.” Bucky waved at you with the biggest smile on his face and finally walked away.

Well, it’s gonna be interesting. 

For the next almost two months, Bucky had been “working” for you, and you paid him with your food every single time because you couldn’t leave the men starving after he just got home from work and then willingly helped you. 

You two got closer. Bucky was a really good man; you found out it while you were sitting in your backyard looking at how his muscles were moving with every swing of the ax. He was right that it wasn't a big deal for him—the job that you would’ve been doing for several hours he did in twenty or thirty minutes. 

The conversation with Bucky was easy, he was a pretty reserved person, but he still told you everything about his job and his friends and asked you things about your life. It was hard not to fall for him. Especially when he gave you this boyish smile every time it was time to say goodbye or when you brought him your homemade food. 

Usually he comes to your house every Friday after work around 6 p.m., but today it was already 8 and he still didn’t show up. There was no light in his windows either, so you became really worried that something serious had happened. 

You were nervously sitting on the bar stool in your kitchen while your dinner was getting cold on the stove. You really had no appetite. What if he got injured from his dangerous work? Or maybe you were just overreacting and he went on a date with someone? You really had no reason to be worried that much because Bucky probably didn’t even think of you as a close friend, and you were just a too dramatic person with attachment issues. 

The light knock on the door scared you a little bit, but you still jumped out of your seat to open it. 

Bucky was standing there, visually perfectly fine and without any injuries, and you sighed with relief. 

“Bucky, oh my god, hi. Are you okay? I was really worried about you, and I don’t even have your phone number to text or call.” You mumbled as your eyes studied his face. 

“Hey, doll.” Bucky softly smiled at you, but it was obvious that he wasn’t really in the mood. “I’m fine. Just a shitty day at work. My boss went fucking crazy over nothing, and it was just a mess.” He ran a hand through his long hair. “But I have to do your firewood, so I'll go change and be back in a few minutes, ‘kay?”

He started to go back, but you caught him by his wrist. “No, Buck, wait. You don’t have to do it right now, really. I have enough wood, and you’re really exhausted. Come in; I have fresh lasagna and chocolate muffins.” 

“Um—are you sure? I mean, you don’t have to.” He mumbled. You noticed that you were still holding his wrist, but decided to leave it that way. 

“Don’t worry, I have enough food, and you look like you really need it. C’mon, don’t you want to eat something homemade and still hot after a bad day at work?” You gave him your best smile, and it was obvious in his eyes that he already agreed to your idea. 

“Okay, we can do that. Honestly, I feel like I’m able to eat a fucking elephant.” 

You both shared a laugh before you almost dragged him into your house and closed the door. Only at that moment did you realize that even though you gave Bucky a lot of food, he had never been at your place before. For some reason, you felt really excited to feed him and spend some time together. 

“Sit here while I’m heating the food.” Bucky obediently took a seat, looking with a soft smile at how you were moving around in your little kitchen.

You looked so domestic and soft in the warm yellow lights of the room in the cute pink cotton dress with little flowers all over it. The concentration was written all over your face as you tried to perfectly set plates and cutlery on the table and then put steaming lasagna on it.

“Fuck, it smells so good; you’re going to kill me, doll.” He wasn’t able to handle the amazing smell of food right in front of him. 

Your cheeks heated, and you waved your hand at him. “It’s just lasagna, Buck; don’t be dramatic.” You took a place near him, and you both started to eat your food. 

“I’m not being dramatic. I already told you that, besides my ma, you have the best food in the world. I could’ve eaten it three times a day for the rest of my life and not gotten tired of it.” He took another big bite, moaning as the taste filled his mouth. 

“You’re making me blush. No one ever told me this.”

“That’s my intention, doll. What, none of your boyfriends complemented your skills? Because I would’ve put the ring on that finger way too fast.” You looked at each other for a few seconds until you noticed that he had already finished his portion. 

“Do you want more?” Ignoring his previous words, you stood up and took his plate to give him some extra food. The dress gently flew around your thighs, drawing Bucky’s attention to your legs when you turned around. “Anyway, what happened at work? You mentioned your boss.”

“Ugh, Pierce is a fucking dipshit. Everyone there hates him, but he has too much money, so we can’t do anything. Me and Steve have really been on bad terms with him since the first day. He tries to tell us how to do our work, but his head is so far up in his ass that he can’t even listen to what we say.” You returned to your place and put a plate in front of Bucky again. The frown took place on his face while he was talking about Pierce, so you put a hand on top of his without even thinking. 

“He sounds like a total asshole. I’m sorry that you guys have to work for him.” Bucky’s face softened at your action. He flipped his hand so he could interlace your fingers, and you felt the warm feeling all over your body. 

You both definitely felt something, but you still stayed silent, enjoying the connection. It was obvious that you had feelings for each other. It was just hard to admit out loud, and, honestly, Bucky was so scared that you might think that he did all of this just to get into your pants. Which is not true. Well, he doesn’t mind, but it’s not his only intention. He wants to treat you right and ask you out on a date. 

Back then, he felt so bold and offered to help you with the firewood with the hope of getting to know you better. Steve and Sam obviously knew about his new “work” and teased him about it all day long. Unfortunately, he still didn’t find the right moment to ask you out. Those times when he came to you on Friday evenings and you were watching him work in your cute dresses or little pajamas were Bucky’s favorites. You looked so soft, cozy, and domestic that he wished to see you like this every day. 

After the last piece of a chocolate muffin disappeared in Bucky’s mouth and he let out a moan of satisfaction, he sat in your kitchen with closed eyes and a smile on his face. 

“If I had to have a shitty day just to get this type of meal at the end of the day, I’m ready for it.”

“Bucky!” You laughed at his dramatic words. “You don’t have to have a bad day. I can feed you just because.” 

“Well, you said it yourself. Now you won’t get rid of me.” You both laughed. Then he suddenly got up and started to put plates in the sink. “You sit, and I’ll wash the dishes.”

“No, Bucky, that’s not how it works!” You got up and caught him by his bicep. Really hard and big bicep. 

“Yes, it is. You’re cooking, then I’m cleaning.” He tried to get away from your grip to turn on the water, but you only held him stronger, now with both of your hands on his arms. 

“Bucky.” When he was standing so close to you, you realized your size and height difference, and it made you shiver. You turned your head up to look him in the eyes. “You are my guest; you shouldn’t do this.”

“My mother taught me to always help women because they are not our maids.” He stepped a little bit closer. “But if you’re saying this only because you want me to leave, I can do that.”

You were both looking at each other, and what you saw in his eyes made you weak in the knees. 

“No, no, I don’t want you to leave.” Your hands moved higher and fell on the sides of his neck. It was everything Bucky needed to finally kiss you.

Two large and rough hands took your face to bring your lips closer to Bucky’s height. He was gentle yet so passionate, and he slowly moved his lips against yours. It was mind-blowing how desperately you wanted him to devour you, to destroy you. While your hands were discovering his broad chest and shoulders, you felt that your body was suddenly lifted in the air and then placed on the kitchen counter.

Now that Bucky didn’t have to lean over to your height, it was easier to kiss you properly. His tongue brushed over your lips to ask for entrance, which you happily gave. Bucky felt too addicted to your taste, your smell, and the feeling of your smaller body against him. It drove him crazy.

“I've wanted to do that since the day I looked at you.” The hands on your hips tightened and moved you closer to his body. “You look so pretty, God.” Bucky’s eyes are running all over your face, trying to memorize every little thing.

“Bucky...” You dragged him closer again, desperate to connect your lips. His large hands wandered all over your body, slightly pulling up your dress and then moving higher and cupping your breasts in them. “I thought you were tired.” His large erection was obvious through his jeans, and you wanted to tease him. 

“I’m never tired for you, doll.” He mumbled against your lips. “I could’ve fucked you right on this table, but I’ll leave it for the next time. Where’s your bedroom?” You didn’t miss the promise to fuck you again, and your body felt ecstatic just because of this thought.

“Up the stairs, second door from the right.” 

Bucky didn’t say a word before your world suddenly moved, and you ended up hanging from his shoulder. Your bare ass was probably right near his face, and you couldn’t help but blush. 

He stormed up the stairs with one hand on your thigh, as if your weight on his shoulder was nothing, and then walked into your main bedroom. 

You were thrown onto your bed, and Bucky stayed in front of you for a few seconds to remember this picture. Swollen lips, eyes full of need, a short dress that pulled up and showed a glimpsing of your white underwear. Yes, you were perfect, and only for him. 

“Come here, Buck.” You raised your hands in his direction, and he obediently climbed on top of you with a smirk on his face.

He sat between your legs, moving his hands up and down the soft skin of your thighs.

“Such a pretty doll for me, in this cute lil’ dress, mm?” His body was hovering over you, and when he found a zipper on the back of your dress, you ended up lying under him only in your white lingerie set in less than a minute. 

The pair of the most beautiful blue eyes devoured your naked body as soon as the piece of clothing was removed, and you had never seen a man look at you this way. Like you were the most beautiful, delicious, and priceless thing in the world. Bucky’s hands gently touched your body from the shoulders to your legs, and you swear that you heard a moan while he was doing it.

“Sweetheart.” He mumbled and leaned to gently kiss the soft skin of your belly, moving with little kisses higher until he reached your lips. “You’re killing me, you know that?” 

“Shut up and kiss me, Barnes.” It was impossible to think straight when his pretty face was right in front of you and his muscular body pushed you deeper into the mattress of your bed. He kissed you as you asked, but it didn’t last long before he pulled away with a grin on his face. You gently brushed his brown locks out of his face and tucked them behind his ears.

“So bossy, doll... Do I have to fuck this attitude out of you?”

“Mmm, undress, and we’ll see what you are capable of.” You shot back at him, and he just moved away with a smirk on his face. 

In a few seconds, a blue Henley was thrown somewhere on the floor, and you were face to face with a body that was probably made by the Greek gods. Muscles on muscles, with tanned skin and freckles from the work under the sun. Now you wanted to climb him like a fucking tree.

“Like what you see?” His smirk became wider as he saw the look on your face: slightly parted lips and darkened eyes that were looking at him up and down. Bucky's hands went straight to the belt of his pants, and with the last movement, he was standing in your dark bedroom completely naked. 

You almost choked on your saliva when he pulled down his pants and boxers at the same time. He was thick and long, with an angry red head. 

“No way this is gonna fit me…”

“It will, doll. I’ll take care of it. I bet this pretty little pussy will just suck me in.” 

It was over for you. You knew that. A handsome, respectful man with a perfect body and dirty mouth? Yes, he can do whatever he wants with you.

He returned to your bed, sitting in between your spread legs. He didn’t waste any more time when he reached behind your back and unbuttoned your bra. Bucky stood on his knees so perfectly that his dick landed on your covered pussy, and it made you both moan out loud. 

“Look at this, doll. ‘M gonna destroy her.” His hips slightly moved, and because your panties were soaking wet, it was so smooth and perfect. “Can you imagine that? I will stretch you out so well that I’ll destroy any other men for you. Make you–and her– mine.” He reached with one of his hands to your tits and squeezed your nipple between his fingers, while the other one was keeping your legs apart so he would be able to move his hips. 

You tried to close your legs by instinct. The tip of his cock again and again brushed right on your clit, and the slight pain from your nipple made you desperately moan and clench your bedsheets.

“Are you going to cum, pretty girl? I'm not even inside of you, and you’re already a fucking mess.” Bucky’s rough voice was so sexy that it made you even wetter, if that was possible. He saw that you were close: by the way your breathing changed and how your eyes rolled back in your head. “C'mon, just let it go. Soak those panties even more.” His movements on your most sensitive parts of the body didn’t stop, and it threw you over the edge.

You were squeezing around nothing, and the most inappropriate and dirty moan escaped your mouth. It was something that you'd never experienced before, and it was so intense that you needed some time to get over it.

“Good girl.” Bucky grabbed your face and connected your lips, giving you another wet and sloppy kiss. 

Then, without hesitation, Bucky’s hands took off the last piece of your clothing, leaving you completely naked for his hungry eyes. He stared at your body up and down for a few seconds and then closed his eyes to take a deep breath and calm himself down. 

“Bucky, please, I need you so much.” You almost cried, trying to grab him and put his body on top of yours, but Bucky was much larger than you, so it was almost impossible.

Bucky finally calmed down a little bit, and he interlaced his right hand with your left, pinning it above your head. His body softly landed on you, and skin-to-skin contact sent shivers down your spine. He was now looking you right in the eyes, and judging by his facial expressions, he either wanted to fuck you lifeless or cuddle and hold you closely.

“Tell me if it’s too much, okay?” Bucky’s soft side came out again, and you slightly nodded, giving him permission to continue. The little silver square appeared in his hand out of nowhere before he ripped the package with his teeth and put a condom on. 

You honestly tried to hold back the little bit of disappointment you felt when he decided to use protection. It was smart. You weren’t longtime partners, it was a question of your safety. But the tiny voice in your head told you that you would’ve let him fuck you without it. To feel his perfect d–

Your thoughts were cut off with a deep chuckle. “You look like you’re sad that I put on a condom, doll.” You swear that his eyes darkened when you stayed silent. “If you want it later, I’ll fuck you raw, ‘kay? But now neither of us can think straight.” 

“Are you a perfect man?” You laughed.

“I don’t know, let’s find out.” Your smile faded as soon as you felt the head of his dick at your entrance.

You were still sensitive from your previous orgasm, so when Bucky started teasing you again, rubbing you up and down to cover himself in your slick, you nearly lost it. 

“Bucky, please.” You whine, grabbing the side of his torso with your free hand. “Don’t tease me, please, I can’t—” 

Your words died as Bucky finally pushed inside of you. Your head fell deeper into your soft bed, and Bucky’s body tensed on top of you, trying to hold back a deep moan. 

It was overwhelming. He stretched you out so deliciously that you felt pain and inexplicable pleasure. No one ever made you feel this way—like you were on cloud nine and the man on top of you didn’t even actually fuck you. 

“You’re squeezing me so hard that I might cum like a teenager—fuck!” He groaned, squeezing your hand harder. “Relax, baby, I’ll take care of you.”

You tried to relax as much as you could with a dick buried deep inside of you, and Bucky was finally able to move.

Well, if it felt good earlier, then the first movement of his hips probably sent you right to heaven. Bucky cupped your face with his left hand, locking your eyes together, when he started thrusting at a slow pace. 

“So pretty for me, doll. You feel my cock in your stomach, huh?” Bucky’s lips almost touched yours when he talked, but it felt like he was too far away from you. “Good girl, take me so well. Knew that this pussy would be my death.” 

“More... harder, please, fuck me harder.” You spoke in between moans, gazing intently at Bucky's pretty face.

He started fucking you harder. Your bed was slamming your wall, but it didn’t bother you as much as the fact that he was hitting your G-spot with every thrust. You were a fucking whining mess under him, with a slightly open mouth and a drunk-looking face.

“Suck it like a good girl you are.” His thumb slipped into your mouth, and you moaned, doing as he said. “Your pussy is already sucking the shit out of me. Are you going to cum, baby? Going to make a mess on my cock while I fuck you? Imagine if I fucked you raw and filled you up with my load. I bet you’d like that.” The finger went deeper into your mouth, making you gag. You nodded your head as much as you could at Bucky’s words because you were already ready to cum.

“Give it to me, baby.” Bucky growled, sucking on your neck. His hips slammed into yours, making the nastiest noise, but it turned you on even more. A finger slipped out of your mouth, and Bucky’s face was in front of you again. “Fuuuck, I’m gonna cum.”

“M-m, B-bucky! Don't stop, pl– ahhh!” The wave of the best orgasm of your fucking life washed over you. You swear the stars started dancing behind your closed eyes as you endlessly squeezed Bucky’s cock and his body.

The way you were moaning, how your eyes rolled back, and how your whole body trembled pushed Bucky over the edge. A few last movements in your soaking wet pussy and he came, feeling almost lifeless, as if you had sucked the whole energy out of him.

He let go of your hand, which this whole time he held above your head, and cupped your face with both of his hands, kissing away the tears you didn’t even notice.

“Y/N? Baby? Are you okay?” He whispered and moved your head a little bit so your eyes were directed at him. You looked like you were high or really drunk, but he couldn’t argue with the fact that you were the prettiest woman on earth.

“I– it’s like I don't feel my body anymore.” You lazily mumbled and closed your eyes. “No one ever fucked me like this.” 

“Glad to hear that, doll.” Bucky leaned closer and kissed your soft lips with more delicacy and tenderness. “Do you need anything? Food, water, bath?”

“No… Can you just hug me and stay here for the night?” You asked, now afraid that he would leave since he got what he wanted.

“Sure, just let me get rid of this thing, and I’ll still get you some water.” He kissed you on the forehead before carefully untangling his body from yours. You hissed at the new empty and a little bit aching feeling inside of you. “I’m sorry, baby.” 

Bucky threw a condom in the basket under your table and, putting on only his boxers, came down to the kitchen to get you a bottle of water. But when he came back, he saw that you had already fallen asleep.

You looked so cute—still naked, with a peaceful expression on your face, laying in the middle of your messy bed. He thought about whether he should disturb your sleep or not, but you asked him to stay, right? Bucky hesitated for a few seconds, but then came closer to you, placed the bottle on the nightstand, and carefully scooped you into his hands, pushing away the covers. He put you back down, and then you opened your eyes. 

“C’mere…” You mumbled, still sleepy, and grabbed his hand.

Bucky quietly chuckled and got under the cover, hugging you from the back. You happily sighed before drifting back to sleep. Bucky kissed you in the hair, hugged you harder, and fell to sleep with you in his arms.

You woke up a little bit disoriented, trying to figure out what happened last night. 

The bed beside you was empty, but the aching feeling between your legs proved that it wasn’t a dream. You, in fact, fucked your hot lumberjack neighbor. But where did he go?

You found some random oversized t-shirt and walked down the stairs. Everything was silent; your kitchen was empty but crystal clean. Did Bucky just leave? 

Wait a minute. 

Yesterday there was a mess from your cooking and dinner with Bucky.

Now the room was almost shining. 

You looked around in confusion until you noticed a piece of paper on the table. 

All of your bad thoughts disappeared as soon as you read it, and you felt butterflies go crazy in your stomach.

[ki-yomii]

➥ pairing | jeon jungkook x f!reader ➥ word count | 1k ➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; dirty talk, pet names, established relationship, masturbation (solo m), panty kink, switch!jk, semi public sex, exhibitionism, cum play ➥ summary | request: was wondering if you could do another short chapter of what will happen if y/n chose to wear the underwear jungkook used to masturbate with🥲 ➥ notes | ask and ye shall receive lol. i changed the prompt a little but i hope you enjoy anon 💚 also sorry for any mistakes its 3 am 🥲

🤎 series masterlist | masterlist | inbox | AO3 🤎

"You might wanna hurry up," you warn, your lips teasing the corner of Jungkook's trembling mouth with every breathy word. "They're gonna start wondering where we are."

Bar bathrooms aren't the most discrete of places, certainly.

Not only could anyone walk in to find you with your pants tight around your thighs - hands stretching out the waistband of your panties to keep yourself exposed to your boyfriend - you've been gone for long enough, the other's are going to come looking.

You might have another ten to fifteen minutes if Jimin gets distracted by shots (even less if he doesn't).

Jungkook groans, low and throaty. "I'm trying, I -- fuck!"

A shiver rattles his frame. Sweat dapples his forehead, clings to the downy soft hair at his temples. One arm braces him against the stall, the other working furiously between his thighs to no avail.

"I don't think I can cum like this, baby."

You hum, dragging the tips of your fingers up the length of his exposed thigh. The muscles bunch, jumping beneath the whisper of your touch. His lashes flutter.

The intensity of his gaze when his eyes catch yours sends sparks of awareness ricocheting down your spine, blowtorch bright. His brows furrow low over blown pupils; the pretty amber of his irises a thin ring of glittering gold.

When his teeth tug on his lip ring, you want to take a nibble for yourself, attention drawn to the red bitten swell of his bottom lip as the metal dimples the flesh.

You swallow, rough.

So pretty like this, you think.

"Fuck, that's it," he hisses, voice reedy and thin with desire. He rolls his wrist, squeezing the swollen head of his cock between his fingers until a clear bead of pre-cum oozes from the tip. "Keep looking at me like that."

Your stomach swoops.

Liquid fire burns through your veins, settles into a blooming warmth that hooks behind your navel. Your thighs clench, and your hips twitch. You throb when he stares down at your pussy, transfixed by the sticky slick clinging to your folds and the pulse of your clit.

"I wish we were back at home," he says, tongue darting out to lick his lips. "Wanna fuck you so bad, baby."

You sigh in agreement, ducking forward to ghost a kiss over the corner of his jaw. "Please, Kook. We don't have much time. Give it to me. Wanna feel you cum on my pussy, wanna play with myself all wet and messy when we get home."

His fist slams against the stall door, his head rolling back between his shoulders as he grits his teeth. His other hand reaches down to massage his balls, a thumb digging into the base of his shaft.

"Shit!"

So, so close. And yet...

"If you don't now, you won't be able to for the rest of the night. You know how the boys are - we're gonna be out until at least 2 AM."

Jungkook huffs, “I know, trust me. I want to cum, but I’m telling you I can’t.”

It’s adorable how frustrated - how miserable - he looks as he works a hand over the length of his soaked cock. Movements short, rough; desperate strokes meant to get him off quick and dirty because you're running out of time.

"My poor baby," you say.

Heart hammering against your ribs in anticipation, you tilt your hips out. Your stance widens, allowing you to slip a hand between your thighs with ease. Fingers stroke down the length of your slit, tips dipping into your entrance to gather sticky arousal.

Jungkook watches you all the while, his breath stuttering from him in heavy pants. His eyes are twin black holes; dragging you in and refusing to let go. His hand's movements never paused, still working at his cock with long, heavy strokes.

"Here, let me help with that."

Reaching up, you take your soaked fingers and trace them along the curve of his mouth. Smear your slick into the chapped skin. Tease the tips along the soft velvet of his inner lip.

Your breath catches when you feel the flicker of his tongue lapping up your arousal, his gaze burning into yours.

"You taste so good."

Teeth nip at your fingers. When he speaks, his words slur together and his hand speeds up until his inked knuckles are a blur of movement.

"Hahh - wanna bend you over right now, eat you out until you're crying. Fuck you full. Make - make your pretty pussy squirt all over my cock."

"Yes," you breathe, touching your forehead to his. Your noses brush as you share space, the air heavy with arousal. "Just like that, baby. Now... don't you wanna cum all over me? Soak my panties and make me walk around the bar all messy just for you?"

"Oh fuck, oh fuck!"

When he finally falls over that edge, his mouth drops open on a silent whine. His eyes scrunch shut as the fingers of one hand curl over the top of the stall, the other a loose ring for him to fuck his hips into.

A full body shudder rolls through him.

Spurts of cum stripe along the top of your mound, dripping down over your throbbing clit to pool into the crotch of your panties. The fabric darkens, sticky and damp.

"That was so hot, baby." Jungkook runs his clean hand through his hair, fingers trembling. He's glassy eyed, dazed as he shoots you a dopey smile. "Haven't cum that hard in a while."

You smile, tossing him a wink while you pull the waistband of your panties up your hips. You moan when the fabric clings to your folds, pussy throbbing; a sticky friction you'll feel with every step.

You kiss his flushed cheek, and say with a wink, "Mm, now let's get back out there. Wouldn't want them thinking we were up to something, would we?"

His laugh echoes off the bathroom walls, following you out into the din of the bar, his body a line of heat at your back. When you get to the shared table, you're not fooling anyone.

[aemonds-favorite-rider]

NSFW BELOW!

(a/n i am so happy you guys enjoyed my Aemond alphabet, this is for all my Jacaerys girls :) enjoy!)

Jacaerys Velaryon NSFW Alphabet!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

King of aftercare. Jacaerys is amazing at aftercare. Making sure you drink some water (he will occasionally send a maid to fetch a sweet treat for you on), before delicately cleaning you up with gentle praises falling from his lips.

Letting you know you took him and his seed so beautifully and how gorgeous you look in the afterglow of it all. Making sure you're nice and cozy and feeling safe before allowing himself to rest beside you.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Jacaerys loves his thighs. They're nice and toned and before you two wed, they were the perfect way to get you off. Allowing you to ride his toned and muscled thighs from his dedication to training. He loved watching you fall apart when you'd both sneak off for a moment of privacy before your wedding and even after!

Jace loves stomachs. He is absolutely obsessed with the soft skin and build of your stomach. He loves to rest his head on it at night when you both lay and talk before bed, he loves the way it squishes under his touch...he loves the way the way it bulges while he splits you open on his cock especially. He's especially affectionate after you two have your first babe...and all that may come after.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

I think he had a lot of cum. He's always gushing from between your lips when he finally pulls out. And he loves to watch it run down your pretty legs before pushing it back in with a soft murmur of praise for taking every bit of it.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He has a secret fantasy of breeding you on the Iron Throne. Having you bounce up and down on him while you both sit on it before spilling inside of you watching it drip ever so faintly from between your legs when you stand up. It's his favorite nasty little fantasy he hopes to make a reality one day.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Jace would 100% probably wait till his wedding night to you to do the actual deed. That doesn't mean he isn't completely inexperienced, and he's always an eager and experimental student. He enjoys growing with you in all aspects of your relationship including sexually :)

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He loves missionary. He is so obviously obsessed with your body, he loves to watch every twitch and response to pleasure your body will give him. Watching you squirm under him? He doesn't stand a chance at all. He also loves to be able to make contact as much as possible...he just likes to see what he does to you.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Jace can find some humor in the moment sometimes. He's kind of a dork as we know so sometimes he'll take that into your chambers. It keeps things comfortable and light. You both have enough serious matters, sex is a stress relief and reconnect for you both.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

I don't think a full bush but he definitely has a thatch of dark curly hair around his cock but that's it. Nothing too crazy, he likes to keep it trimmed up neat for you (it's so he can see your juices glisten off his pubes)

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

King of affection. He loved to hold your hand, rest his forehead against yours. whatever the moment calls for appropriately. Always making you feel so worshipped and gorgeous at your most intimate...don't be fooled though, if you truly wished for it, he'll fuck you senselessly.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He used to be ashamed of masturbating to the thought of you, he is a gentlemen of course, but sometimes he just couldn't help it. Though he prefers to just try wait it out...

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Again. Top three.

Breeding ofc. He is obsessed with finishing in you and hoping it sticks so he can watch your body swell and become sensitive for him. He swears you look like The Mother herself when pregnant.

Praise kink and body worship. Jacaerys jumps at any and all chance to give you praise and this includes your body. He could spend an entire night kissing your body if you let him. But...dare he even say he enjoys it equally when you praise him in the same way with the same enthusiasm as him if you catch my thought.

Oral kink. Obviously. He loves putting his mouth on your body. Sucking and nibbling delicately on your pretty nipples, leaving a hickey on your tummy, licking your sensitive pearl. He's obsessed.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Believe it or not, Jace likes to fuck you in front of the fireplace. Forming a little bed in front of it for you both after a long day, before making love to you with the warmth of the fire on your bare bodies.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

The noises, the moans, the praise. He lives for your praise and love. You take such great care of him so he sees it as a way to return the favor.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

I think he would say no to any impact play. Choking is on a thin line as well. His brain can't comprehend harming you or degrading you in such a manner as to cause bodily harm. He simply refuses.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He 100% prefers to give. He could spend forever between your soft and warm thighs. Devouring you until you're absolutely shaking and whining under him. If he died between your thighs he would die a happy man.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He liked slow and deep. It's more passionate and special that way according to him. He is the definition of making love and treats every time as if it's the last pretty much...but he does enjoy an occasional rough fuck with you that leaves you crying out for hours until you're an absolute wreck.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Not really his thing honestly. Some times he can't help but take you in passing after you both haven't seen each other in a while. He'll pull you off for some quick relief. He prefers to eat you out or take you from behind with a hand over your mouth while whisper how good you are and how much he missed you.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Not his thing either I don't think (aside from his little Iron Throne fantasy). He has a reputation and role to play as Prince and unlike some he intends to be a poised and proper prince.

He is 100% willing to experiment. Sex is an outlet for you both and something special and he wants to always make sure you have whatever you want and need. He will try anything twice at the least.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Stamina was NOT Jacaerys thing at first bless his heart but he eventually lasts quite a bit after awhile. He usually can't do more than two rounds before he usually has to take a break. I have a headcanon the first time he ever saw your bare body he immediately came his pants on your wedding night.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

This is fifty fifty for Jace. He has to be careful about acquiring the toys lest anyone find out you have them. But he has a couple of simple toys for you both, nothing complex or heavy. Perhaps some silk ribbons, and a blindfold even?

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

This man is a MESS if you tease him so for the love of the Seven, use this wisely. He always remembers and he isn't above teasing you right back when it matters most...

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He lets out the occasional breathy moan and whine but mainly it's just little whispering of love and praise in your ear just above a soft loving whisper...not to be specific.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Jace is obsessed with spoiling you i like to think. Getting you beautiful jewels and gems for you. He's obsessed with watching it beautiful glinting jewels against your titties and skin. They make you look so stunning and breathtaking according to him, plus it's a bonus to always spoil you as you deserve :)

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

OH this boy is pretty y hick. Have you seen his build? I think it's quite long and slender as 4 inches soft and 6 and a half hard! It also leans to the left if that matters to anyone.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

For you? If you give him the chance he's is down. All he needs is to warm up a little and he's absolutely ready. He doesn't really tell you no, because being with you so intimately is one of his favorite things about life.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Once the aftercare has concluded then he falls asleep pretty quickly. Never before though! Not until his beautiful wife is safe and has all she needs.

[that-sarcastic-writer]

Bad Dreams

Re4R!Leon S. Kennedy X F!Reader

Summary: Leon has really bad nightmares after Spain, so you try to comfort him. This is just pwp

Warnings: explicit sexual content, minors dni, unprotected sex (wrap it before u tap it), p in v, brief fingering, riding, praise kink, slight somnophilia (she was already awake but hella sleepy), creampie, soft!dom leon, Leon has a mouth on him, the s in leon s kennedy stands for slut, leon has unresolved PTSD, language, established relationship, no use of y/n

WC: 2.3k

A/n: yall mfs are probably like but lia can u pls stop with the Leon shit. And my answer is no. I'm gonna write about that man until I get burn out of him. And since DI is coming out in July yall better get used to him. So yeah in the meantime while I finish my actual plot smut leon fics, here's this pwp to keep yall entertained, enjoy :)

Leon Kennedy Masterlist

Ao3 link (but like pls still rb and shit on here thank u)

Gif cred to this tumblr

Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated!

Cold, a cold, gut wrenching chill ran through his entire body. He could feel it. He could feel himself start to lose control of his mind, of his body. He was frozen, stuck in his place. Only her screams drowned the voices. Her screams, they were deafening. Heart-wrenching. He needed to save her. He had to. But he couldn't. He couldn't save her. He couldn't fucking save anyone. Don't fight it. Just give in. Let it take over. Stop fighting. There's nothing to fight for. The screams. The fucking screams..

Leon—!

Leon's eyes shot open, and he sat up just as fast. Panting, chest glistening with sweat and his hair drenched. He blinked a couple of times as if he was trying to figure out if he was still dreaming. It wasn't dark or gloomy, his bedroom wasn't cold. He realized he was in fact in his bedroom, in his apartment, and he was still alive. He took a couple of long but shaky deep breaths as he ran a hand through his hair, moving in out of his face. He looked to his right side— shit. 

"Leon..?" You were still half asleep, eyes squinted as you reached out to gently grab his arm, now sitting up as well. 

"Sorry. Go back to sleep babe." 

"Hey," You said, now a bit more alert as you rubbed your face with one hand, "was it another nightmare?" 

A month. It had been a month since he came back from Spain. And almost every fucking night he was waking himself up halfway through the night, and by extension you. He felt bad. But you didn't blame him for it, he couldn't help it. Not that you could actually convince him of it though. 

"Yeah." He shook his head dismissively, eyes not meeting yours. "I'm fine."

"Do you think you can go back to sleep?" You asked softly, seeing on the clock next to his side that it was only 3:00 AM. 

"Don't think so." He muttered, still not looking at you. His hands were shaking a bit, and his breathing was still uneven, like he was counting his breaths in his head at an unsteady pace. "It's fine. I'm fine." 

"Leon…" 

"I'm fine." He emphasized, a bit more harshly, hoping you could turn the other way and go back to sleep, to leave him to deal with his own issues. But he could never convince you of that either. 

You frowned softly and without saying a single word you scooted closer to him until your chest was pressed to his arm. You left a kiss on his shoulder, and with your hand you turned his face in your direction. 

"Baby, it's okay." You soothed softly, bringing your lips to his jaw. As you left kisses up his freshly shaved jaw you could feel the lock in his muscles loosen. "I'm right here. You're safe with me. You're okay." 

He breathed unevenly through his nose, eyes shuttering as he turned his head fully, lips crashing against yours. Your soft gasp quickly turned into a satisfied hum. You parted your lips for him as his mouth captured yours, a large hand coming to rest at the back of your neck to bring you closer to him. You were still far too sleepy to match his intensity, but you allowed him to do as he desired. A soft grunt fell from his lips as he squeezed the back of your neck, tongue slipping into your mouth as his other hand irked up your exposed thigh— his old academy t-shirt doing very little to cover your lower half from his prying hand. But you didn't stop him, if anything you parted your thighs with ease. He groaned at this and without hesitation, he threw you over his lap, pulling you to sit on top of him.

"Mmm, you wanna ride me baby?" His tone was low, still slightly raspy from sleep, but he was anything but, he was wide awake, blue eyes big and full of need, desperate, desperate for your comfort and love. You were nodding in an instant. "Yeah? You think you can do that pretty girl?" 

"Uh huh." You mumbled as you looked at him through half lidded eyes, not being able to help rubbing yourself against his clothed cock. 

He exhaled unevenly through his nose, fingers squeezing your bare thighs as he lifted your hips enough to pull down your panties. He was settling you back on his crotch in an instant and you whined as soon as your clit brushed against the soft material of his boxer briefs. Leon hissed softly, bringing two fingers up to your lips. He raised his eyebrows at you, eyes commanding you without having to say the words. You happily parted your lips and he pushed the two fingers into your mouth. He hummed, watching you intently, lip pulled under his teeth as you coated his fingers with your saliva. 

"Mmm yes, good." He hummed as he pulled his fingers from your mouth and instantly pressed his soaked fingers against your clit. He watched with pride as your lips fell open as he spread the wetness over the sensitive bud before he circled them around your entrance. "Fuck, did I tell you how much I missed this pussy? Wanna fuck this pussy so bad baby." 

"Oh Leon— yes— please… Mhmm—!" His fingers slipped into your wet core with ease. The way he could so easily manipulate your body into submission, into needing him, it was beyond comprehension. But you didn't need to understand it. You just wanted him to use you for comfort, you wanted to make him forget. "Please Leon. Please let me ride you now." 

His response was closer to a guttural groan than to any words, but he happily complied. His fingers left you as he attempted to tug down his boxer briefs, you lazily lifted your hips enough for him to pull out his cock. A heavy sigh left his lips as his cock slapped against his stomach. He reached to grab a hold of your hips, but you placed your hands on his chest and gently made him lie on his back. He looked at you with big eyes, a bit surprised by your eagerness, but fuck he'd be damned if he complained. A soft smirk tugged at his lips as he watched you clumsily and a bit messily position yourself above him, coating his cock in your slick.

"Ah— Shit, c'mon baby. C'mon." He spoke through exhales, trying his best not to force you down on his cock himself. But you were sleepy, so tired but still wanting to please him, you could take your time. And you did a minute or so later, he watched with parted lips as you slowly sank down on his cock until only a little bit was left, but he knew you couldn't fit all of him. "Ohhh yes. Yes good girl. Fuck." 

"Oh— mhmm! Fuck Leon." You whimpered, nails digging into his chest as you rocked your hips, eyes already closed as you adjusted to the feeling of him before you were lifting yourself up enough to slam down on his cock, again, and again. 

"Oh my sweet girl, you're doing so well," the praise came through a breathy moan, his eyes only half lidded as he watched you bounce on his cock, one hand gripping your hip and his other arm was behind his head. "Mhmm yeah, fuck yourself on my cock baby— ah— yeah, just like that." 

You were trying, god you were fucking trying. Fucking yourself on Leon like your life depended on it, your moans almost as pathetic as your attempts at keeping up with the pace you both wanted and needed. Poor thing, you were holding for dear life, body over Leon's, clutching the arm under his head as your hips moved. And Leon? He didn't even look like he was breaking a sweat. 

"Ugh— mhm fuck… Leon.." You were whining desperately into Leon's neck, every muscle in your body aching with heat. He could hear the shift in your voice, you weren't just whining, no, you were asking him. "Leon." 

"What do you need, baby?" He moved your face from his neck, eyebrows furrowed with concern as he could feel your pace start to slow. "Why'd you stop?" 

"'M sorry.. I wanna.." Oh, he got it. You wanted him to do it. A small smirk pulled at his lips. "Can you…" 

"Oh pretty girl. Are you tired? I'm sorry baby, I'm sorry I woke you. But don't worry, I'm still gonna fuck you to sleep." He wrapped an arm around your torso, holding you firmly as he sat up. He moved to sit on his knees, your legs tightly wrapped around his waist. He snapped his hips, your body bouncing in his grip. Your face fell into his neck again, crying out when his cock brushed against that sensitive spot inside your walls. "Yeah, right there?" 

Again, again, and again. He held you around his hips, making sure you felt each rock of his hips, and every time his cock hit your most sensitive spot. 

"Yes! Fuck Leon— oh God— yes, don't stop please!" 

You didn't even have to tell him. He'd be damned if he stopped before he could feel the squeeze of your tight walls, before he could hear the lewd sound of his cock slapping against your wet cunt. Never. He'd die first. He held you tight, one arm still firm over your back, pressing your chest against his, while the other hand was deep in your hair, pulling just as hard as you were pulling his. 

"Mhmm I wouldn't dream of it, baby. Not gonna stop until you're screaming my name, shaking when you come— ah— can already feel it." He moaned every word, his own need for release slipping. Only you could make him lose control like this, only you could be both his instability and his comfort. It made you want to give in, all of yourself, to him. "Look at you, holding me so tight, taking me so fucking well. God. You're so goddamn perfect— agh—" 

"Mmmm please… please Leon, I wanna come." You were whining the words into his neck, nails digging into his back as you held on for dear life, his punishing thrusts not once letting up, only getting you closer to falling apart. 

"I'm gonna make you come, don't worry." He breathed out a laugh, lips pressed to your hair as he sneaked a hand between your bodies, slick fingers pressing down on your swollen clit. It didn't take much more for you to fall into a shuddering fit of sobs, nails digging into his shoulder blades and toes curling as your wetness seeped around his cock. "Mhmm yes, fuck yes. Good girl."

He used his other arm to pull your body up as it slouched against his chest. He only chuckled breathlessly as your body gave out on top of him as soon as you orgasm washed over you. He held you firmly as he drilled into you, now chasing his own release. His eyes were screwed shut, blonde hair sticking to his forehead as he pressed his face into your chest, rasped whimpers falling from his lips. 

"Ahh— Fuck, your pussy— God— can't get enough of it. I don't ever want to leave this room. You're the only good thing in this fucked up world. The prettiest— mhm fuck." He knew he all he was saying is nonsense, and he knew you weren't fully listening, still half asleep and utterly fucked out, but you were still conscious enough to whimper his name. Like weak praises, weak and pathetic, but fuck, it was the prettiest sound he'll ever hear. "Shit. Fuck. Gonna come baby— ah yes— say my name just like that. Mhmm fuuuck." 

Leon held you down on his cock, hips slightly twitching in aftershock as he spilled himself inside you with a guttural moan of your name that almost made you want to come again right then and there. It was silent for a long while as you simply held each other. His face on your chest and yours on top of his mess of bed/sex hair, and he was hugging close, damn near bear hugging you. You didn't want to move him. You knew if there was something he needed in this world was to feel safe. And you would burn the whole world just to give him that. 

"Thank you." You finally heard his voice, it was mumble, almost muffled by your (his) t-shirt. You irked up an eyebrow, eyes hooded as you opened them to look at him. 

"For what?" You mumbled quietly, sleep and tiredness slowly taking over you again. He lifted his head, there was this tiny smile on his face. He moved you both around until he was laying on his back again and you were laying on his chest, only then he answered. 

"For making me feel… safe." He paused for a few seconds before saying the word, and you could hear the lightheartedness in his voice. Like he no longer felt that tug on his chest, or that pull in his head. For now at least. "I'm never going to forget the things that I've seen and done, I might have nightmares for the rest of my fucking life, but… when I'm with you I feel like.. Like I can breathe so.. Thank you." 

You rested your hands on his chest as you leaned up enough to press a kiss to his lips. It was slow, gentle and loving. He had only started to learn about those things when he met you. 

"I love you Leon." You sighed happily, nuzzling your face into his neck. He hummed softly, inhaling the scent of your hair, the fresh lavender and vanilla comforting him in the best way possible. He pressed a kiss to your hair and closed his eyes. 

"I love you. And I don't think you'll ever understand just how much you mean to me." 

He had nightmares every night, every night since Raccoon City. But on some nights with you, he would sleep through the night happily.

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Chapter 27 - Just a Shot Away

Series Masterlist

Author's Note: Being pointlessly confident and saying that we're going to finish with 31 chapters. See you on the other side of this one! <3

Chapter Title from Gimme Shelter by The Rolling Stones.

Word Count: 27.4k

Chapter Summary/Warnings: The team drives to DC for a meeting with Singer. Usual warnings, with a little extra violence and gore.

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, canon divergence, enemies to friends to lovers, canon divergence, very big fluff, very big angst, established relationship

Read on A03!

Chapter 26 - Chapter 28

“Can I drive?”

“There is not a fucking chance in Christ’s blue balls I’m letting you drive, Sunshine.”

She pouted at Ben, propping her chin on his shoulder and being a fucking hazard to Ben’s very good, very safe driving. “Please?”

“No.”

“But-“

“I’m really fucking like my life.” He gave her a side-eyed, flat look as he said Her name. “So no.”

She stuck Her tongue out at him, crossing her arms and leaning back in her seat as she muttered under her breath. “You can’t even die, you cockfuck asshole.”

Ben snorted. “You know I can fucking hear you, brat. And you’d figure out a way to kill me, you’re real damn smart like that.” 

“Kiss ass.”

“Only for you, darling.”

She flushed at his wink, thighs pressing together with a small squirm—like She was trying to move Ben’s hand up from where it had found an easy home near her knee—and he’d fucking won. Ben didn’t even try to stop the triumphant grin from crossing his face, because he never fucking won these arguments. They usually ended with Her moaning as Ben fucked her in an attempt to regain some control and dignity after she’d convinced him eat lunch with Her, Hughie, and Annie, or do the laundry, or thank Kimiko for brownies, or read a fucking book. But she wasn’t pushing further, cutting right to watching Ben with lust-blown eyes and a pretty, gaping and slack expression, so he’d fucking won.

“Need me to pull over?” He dragged his hand up Her leg, smirking at her small gasp. “Take care of you on the side of the fucking highway?”

“Fuck you,” She mumbled, grabbing Ben’s hands and turning it over between hers in a way that was somehow lot more fucking distracting than her pout. “Horny old cunt-“

“I can hear your heart,” Ben drawled Her name, twining his fingers into hers. “You want me to fuck you, and I haven’t even done anything-“

“It’s the driving.” She shrugged, but Ben didn’t miss how Her hand tightened in his. “You look hot when you drive.”

He chuckled, glancing over at Her beautiful, fake sulking face. “Driving fucking does it for you? Should I get a car, just to turn you on-“

“Shut up, Benjamin.” She wrinkled Her nose at him. “You get turned on when I’m good with Ryan, Mr. Breeding Kink. I’m allowed to think you’re sexy when you’re driving a car.”

Ben rolled his eyes. “I am not going fucking apologize for loving you and wanting fuck you until your full of me-“

“Well then I don’t have to apologize for looking at your hands and muscles when you drive!”

“You have a damn obsession with my hands, Sunshine.” He grinned at Her, lifting her hand up in his to kiss Her knuckles. “I’m starting to think you like them more than my cock.”

“I’m allowed to like multiple things, Pretty Boy. I don’t know if old age is getting to you, but I also said muscles-“

“How about this.” Ben held their hands in Her lap, looking between her pretty, dramatic, perfect fucking fake-scowl and the road he had to not crash on. “After Edgar, I’ll let me give you a blowjob right fucking here, in the car.”

“Oh, you’ll let me give you a blowjob-“

“I wasn’t fucking done, brat.” Ben guided their hands between Her legs, cock twitching in his pants as her thighs squeezed around them. “Then, I’ll finger you all you goddamn want. Use my hands how you like them, make you cum on my fingers. Deal?”

She swallowed. “Deal.”

“Good girl.”

Ben laughed as She hit his arm, half grinding onto him at the same time. “Shut the fuck up-“

“You love it.“ Ben felt that strange, radiant thing burst alight in his body. “You love me.”

“Against all my better judgment,” She sighed. “I really do. Can we go over the plan again?”

He nodded, but there wasn’t really that fucking much to go over. They’d made practically negative progress on what the keys could be for—Frenchie had tried to duplicate them, only to discover it was a magnetic skeleton key, and whatever the fuck that meant had caused Her to let out a long, exhausted sigh—and everyone’s bets on the answer seemed to live in the realm of just fucking praying that it wasn’t another problem for them to deal with. Or, if they were all being real damn honest, for Her to deal with.

“It’s probably not something perishable,” She’d said, everyone gathered in the dining hall and glaring at the keys on the center of the table. “Given how long it sounded like the keys were at Red River.”

“That is why my bet is on a weapon,” Frenchie had nodded along to Her words, looking to Kimiko for agreement. “Right, Mon Coeur? Guns and bomb are not items that perish-“

Kimiko had signed something, and both Her and Frenchie’s faces had fallen.

“It could be that.” She’d muttered, voice raising as She translated for the rest of the team. “Something that is perishable, but Edgar doesn’t care if it perished.” 

“Well, why’d he want you and Soldier Boy to get it now-“ 

She’d shrugged, cutting MM off with a tired, almost bitter look at the keys. “Maybe it’s value isn’t dependent on it being, um-“

“Alive.” Ben had grunted, and She’d swallowed. 

“Yeah. Alive.”

“Or just ripe?” Hughie had offered, voice practically fucking desperate. “It doesn’t have to be living, they could be hiding something from the government like they did V, like food or-“ 

“I ain’t puttin money on Edgar stashin pears,Hughie-“ 

She’d shaken her head. “No, Butcher, Hughie’s actually got a point.”

“I do?”

“No he don’t-“

She’d turned Her eyes up to Butcher and Hughie, tone bored and amused. “Yeah, he does. The keys are to the Cornucopia. In Greco-Roman cultic practices, cornucopias were often depicted with agricultural gods, and copia literally means abundance in Latin-“

Butcher has snapped Her name. “Tell us like we’re fuckin idiots, Love-“ 

Ben had frowned, because he’d been following along just fine. But She was also literally alive inside of him, so he’d either adapted to Her smart talk so well he didn’t get phased by it anymore, or She was physically making Ben more intelligent. He hoped it was the former, because then it could be another testament of his love for Her. How he really fucking listened when She spoke, even if his primary motivation was how fucking hot she could be when she was talking about things she was passionate about. And given that She was somehow passionate about every single fucking thing in the universe, Ben would never make her stop talking or dumb it down for his sake. He got to learn shit, and have a boner that She usually ended up fixing. Everyone fucking won.

He’d almost told Butcher to fucking shove it and let Her speak, but She’d been faster, frowning at Butcher as she’d continued.

“Cornucopias are symbols of Greek and Roman food gods. The word means Horn of Plenty in Latin.” She’d looked back to Hughie with a small smile. “So food isn’t that insane of a guess.”

Despite Her reassurance, nobody had ended up putting money on food. The keys were now a slight weight in the pocket of Her jacket, and they’d agreed upon keeping the V from Edgar. If he asked about it, they’d either playing real fucking stupid and telling him they’d only received the keys, giving him a vial of water She’d put green food dye in, or saying they’d broken them. Ben was pretty damn sure Edgar would buy that last one, because the man seemed convinced their team was made up of complete fucking idiots.

It might be. In the past two days they certainly hadn’t been a bunch of fucking geniuses. Mallory had attempted to brief with them about Singer and potential new avenues for V, and Ben had witnessed some of the worst fucking acting performances of in history. For a group of people whose whole fucking job was murder and espionage, they hadn’t managed to be fully capable of looking Mallory in Her hypothetically compromised face and just goddamn lie. Hughie had been all goddamn sweaty, MM and Butcher just kept grunting and glaring, Annie wouldn’t stop staring, and Frenchie had been talking at a damn near inhuman pace. If it wasn’t for Her and Ben, Mallory would’ve clued in on how they’d all finally fucking realized that She was a bitch and couldn’t be trusted.

“Maybe,” MM had muttered as they’d returned to Jersey, the air in the limo tense and wired. “We could tell, Grace, and she’d side with us. She didn’t seem to be Muller’s biggest fan-“

“No.” She’d shuffled further into Ben’s side, leaning into him with a sigh. “Mallory’s primary allegiance is to democracy. If there’s even a chance Singer might think that she’s just trying to sabotage Muller’s as a VP candidate, she won’t actually help us. And she’s not stupid. She might put together that we’re going after federal V, notice the documents are missing or something, and try to stop us. We can’t risk it.” 

Ben had expected more pushback, but Butcher, of all goddamn people, had taken her side.

“She’s right, Mate.” He’d looked at them through the rear-view mirror, a sour and tight-lipped expression on his face. “We ain’t able to take big gambles on anything right now. What Grace don’t know ain’t gonna hurt her, so she’ll be stayin in the dark on this one.”

And that was the fucking plan. Keep Mallory in the dark about the leak, let Her and Ben get the keys to Edgar, and meet the team in Boston for the V. Then they’d fucking kill Homelander—no loose ends for him to know it’s coming, Annie had even bought Her a private, non-CIA funded phones—and deal with the mess it left when the pussy was a million goddamn feet under. 

The mess that included those two original formula V’s, one being kept wherever the fuck Butcher kept things, and one in Ben’s jacket.

They’d agreed not to give it Edgar. There wasn’t a fucking chance in hell they were giving that V to Edgar. When this was over, they’d likely just fucking flush it down the toilet.

But they hadn’t. And Ben had looked at it in Her underwear drawer before they left, and decided that there was no goddamn way he was just leaving it here. In the FBSA Headquarters, where Mallory could just walk into their apartment with her seemingly unlimited jurisdiction and find it.

And he’d forgotten to tell Her. It was really just fucking occurring to him now, as She outlined what to do if Edgar asked them for the V, that it was something She’d probably want to know about. This seemed like the type of shit he’d get yelled at for keeping from Her, even if it wasn’t at all on purpose.

He grunted Her name before he could forget again, and She cut off her own lecture, frowning at him.

“Yeah?”

“I need to tell you something, and you’re not allowed to lose your damn mind about it.”

Her tone raised into a slight warning. “Ben-“

“It’s not fucking bad,” he muttered, risking a look at Her expression. She mostly just looked concerned, and it was a lot fucking worse, so Ben had to just say it. Lock his eyes back on the road and just goddamn tell Her. “I brought the V.”

There was silence for a second, and when Ben looked back, She was only blinking. Her head had tilted slightly, and her fingers were trying to tap in Ben’s hold, but her heart was natural and even, so she wasn’t mad.

“Okay.” She sighed, leaning Her head back in her seat and squeezing Ben’s hand. “I mean, it’s not ideal, but I’d rather have it with you than leave it at the compound. Next time tell me before we leave,” She whacked his arm lightly. “But I can work with it.”

Ben nodded slowly, and muttered, “you’d rather have it-“

“With you.” She repeated herself, and Ben could hear the smile in Her voice. “I trust you, Pretty Boy. And you’re even safer than an underwear drawer. You can yell at people, and hit them into a wall if they try to take things from you. You’re very dramatic, Benjamin. It’s one of your best qualities.”

He snorted, running his thumb over the skin of Her hand. “Brat.”

“Cunt. I need to pee.”

“Why the fuck are you telling me that-“ 

“Because you,” She nudged his shoulder, and Ben turned to see that pretty pout on her lips. “Won’t let me fucking drive, and I am not peeing in the woods, so you need to get me to a gas station.”

He rolled his eyes, but grunted for Her to find one on the map and listened to her directions, parking and turning to watch Her move at his side. 

“I’ll be back,” She smiled at him, fumbling with her seat belt. “Put some gas in the car while I’m gone, we’re low.”

Ben scowled. “No, we’re not-“

“Yes,” She leaned over him, pointing to a small, flashing light on the dashboard. “We are.” 

“That means Butcher’s low on washer fluid-“ 

“Nope. Gas.” She turned to grin at him, their faces barely a fucking inch apart. “Old man-“

Ben tangled his hand in Her hair, pulling her into a long, soft kiss. Shut the fuck up, Sunshine, I am not goddamn old- 

You’re so old. She let out a happy sigh into his mouth, pulling back to meet his gaze. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Sunshine.” He kissed Her cheek, and her eyes on his were so fucking full of adoration and want it might kill him. “Go piss. Be fast.”

“I always am. Fill up the gas, please.” 

“With what damn money-“

“Butcher gave me a hundred to use on gas and whatever fuckin lube you and the old cunt need, as a gift.” 

“Jokes on that pussy, we don’t need lube.” Ben winked at Her. “You get plenty fucking wet for me, all by your damn self.” 

“Fuck you-“ 

“If you insist-“ 

She bumped his nose with Hers, brushing hair out of his eyes. “After I pee, Benjamin, my love, you can fuck me all you want. But only after you let go of me, so I can pee.” 

Ben grunted, releasing where he’d subconsciously grabbed Her waist, but holding onto the sound of Her heartbeat as she climbed out of the car. She’d passed him the money from Her jacket, and now Ben had to fill up the gas tank, because Her saying Benjamin, my love, was some sort of goddamn override to his brain that made body move to Her will more than his. It wasn’t like he wouldn’t have gotten Her gas—She’d asked him for something, and Ben would be damned if she didn’t fucking get it—but he might have pushed for them to go somewhere else if she hadn’t added that one fucking phrase.

But now he had to get gas here. At this backwater fucking washed up parking lot, with a pump that might have been installed before Ben was even taken to Russia. This whole fucking place was disgusting, even by the real damn low standards of gas stations in upstate New York. Ben wasn’t even sure it was genuine establishment and not an abandoned building that some hicks has started selling dogshit coffee and stale candy bars at. If this was Ben’s car, which it fortunately wasn’t, he’d probably have flat out fucking refused to put their alleged “gas” in the engine. They were selling it for a million damn dollars—She’d explained the rapid increase of cost of living and inflation to him several times, but $4.50 for gas had to be a crime—and if he wasn’t able to lean against Butcher’s car and keep a very careful eye on every single pussy moving around the lot while she took a piss, he would’ve damned it and gone into the bathroom with Her, just to make sure she was safe.

But She probably would’ve killed him for hovering, and it wasn’t like Ben couldn’t feel Her—easy and content and humming a soft, natural song—everywhere his head, or hear her heartbeat slightly muffled, but steady, across the parking lot. And it was just them, three truckers, the store workers, and a family on some sort of weird fucking road trip at the station overall, so things would be fine. And if they weren’t, Ben had a fucking gun. They were going right to Boston after this shit, so even though he wasn’t allowed to bring his suit, Ben had dropped his shield in the trunk of Butcher’s car and packed one of the gun ranges better pistols in his pants, along with the one Butcher had given him when She’d return in his pants. So if that bouncy fucking five-year-old tried anything, Ben would be ready.

The five-year-old wouldn’t try anything. It was a little girl, rolling in the grass like a damn dog, giggling to herself as her mother watched her with a tired, joyful smile, and neither of them seemed to be plotting anything. A man joined them with a slightly smaller boy, passing the woman a coffee with a kiss as the boy half-tackled the girl, and something Ben fucking became radiant and soft and aching and hungry in his chest and head and gut.

He’d never fucking gotten that. Ben couldn’t ever remember being that carefree as a kid, and he’d certainly never fucking played in the grass, looked up at his father, and gotten a thumbs up and smile of approval. She’d never had it either. Ben would place real good money that Her parents had never watched her with content, easy expressions, and then shared low laughs with each other about a joke Ben could fucking hear, and wasn’t that damn funny. Those assholes across the parking lot seemed to think it was fucking hilarious, leaning on each other and watching each other with expressions that would’ve made Ben scoff and make a face of like he’d smelled something foul forty years ago.

He wouldn’t now. He hadn’t gotten that before either—real, raw, powerful fucking love—but Ben fucking got it now. That together didn’t just mean at someone’s side most days, and in name, with acknowledgments through teeth. Ben had thought the most together had to offer was a show. Someone he didn’t like that much, but could half-tolerate for a few hours, to flash and shine with him so everyone went fuck, they look good. They’re smiling for us, so that’s love.

Ben had been a fucking idiot. Together meant together. It meant at Her side, always matching Her step for step, but a fuck ton more than just a name. Together meant just them, no need to stray and no way out, because Ben didn’t want a way out. He loved Her—he couldn’t stop telling Her, and it almost fell out of Ben like when he exhaled it would always come out as the words, I love you, Sunshine—and together meant Her and Ben, burning at each other’s sides, no matter what every other pussy fucker wanted. And all the best parts of this weren’t for any single camera or crowd, they were for Ben. They were how She looked wearing his shirts and sprawled over his body, a weight he could easily throw off but never wanted to. They were watching TV shows and Movies with Her, and watching her smile in the glow of the screen. They were trading smirks and winks and jokes, and bumping shoulders or walking with Ben half holding Her up as he made dirty promises he’d always keep. They were dancing with Her in the haze of colorful light provided by her beautiful, fucking enchantingvoice, and saying shit like enchanting because that seemed like a word She’d use.

He really fucking got that together wasn’t a performance. Ben liked Her—She was fucking hilarious and mean and smart and perfect—and when he smiled it was for Her. Not a single other pussy fucker mattered when Ben smiled at Her, because it was something that he couldn’t help, and acted as another piece of evidence that Ben loved Her. Further proof that she’d never have to be afraid of anything again, because Ben would keep her safe, and she’d never have to want for anything because Ben would find whatever she asked for.

So Ben couldn’t scowl at the man across the lot, half-hanging over his wife, because Ben knew that he probably looked that fucking stupid when he looked at Her. But anyone would look that stupid if they got to love Her. If She’d turned them into a fucking pussy who thought about things like would they take stupid road trips? They could. After this was over, She and Ben could do whatever the fuck they wanted. Ben’s whole goddamn brain had been turned into a place to figure out what else would She want. A road trip probably wasn’t the best idea, if Ben wanted to keep his sanity. Given how frequent and intense their sex was, they’d have to pull over two or three times a day and Ben was never going to fuck his wife in a flea-ridden, stiff mattressed, peeling-paint motel room. He could—Ben could fuck Her anywhere—but She deserved all the comfort the world had to offer.

She’d want to see beautiful things. Not have them, but see them. Ben would need to take Her to places that held half the beauty she had in Her own body and heart and head, just so She could see what he got to look at every goddamn day. Ben needed to show Her things like waterfalls and mountains and oceans, find Her a place where the sun was almost as bright as She was, and he could hold Her just to hold her. A place where there were soft breezes and music and good food and flowers.

There were flowers here. As gross as this place was, there were still flowers. Off the side of the lot, past where the family had been standing and where everything turned overgrown and green, there were light pink flowers.

She was still in the bathroom, and the tank was full, and Ben couldn’t stop staring at the flowers. It was just him and two truckers now—shorter men with baseball caps and slightly tattered clothing—and they were looking over at Ben with weary frowns.

But Ben still just fucking stared at the flowers.

And that was the type of fucking love-sick idiot pussy She’d turned him into. The type that stomped across the parking lot, glaring daggers at the other men in a silent dare to say something—because Ben would throw them right through their stupid trucks and not break a sweat—and grabbed some flowers out of the ground for his wife.

She’d like them. She’d get pretty, wide eyes and smile at Ben and it wouldn’t matter that he’d just picked flowers like a fucking child, because She’d be happy.

He returned to the car, scowling at where he could still hear Her heartbeat through the walls of the gas station.

You’re not being fucking fast, Sunshine.

There was barely a beat before she responded. Take it up with my asshole, Pretty Boy. I’m shitting.

Are you almost done.

I think? Maybe five or six more minutes. Ben heard Her amusement bounce around his head, and he could fucking hear the smile on her face. Think you’ll make it? 

Shut the fuck up. Ben glared at the flowers, still in his hands. Do you need anything. 

Like what? 

I don’t fucking know, what do gas stations sell now-

Probably the same things they sold in the 80s. Gum, candy, condoms, snack, soda, energy drinks- 

What the fuck is an energy drink.

Like, a Red Bull or a Monster. There was a pause, and then, have you had a Red Bull? 

Bulls aren’t red, they’re brown or some shit-

No, dummy, it’s a brand name. Like Doritos, but caffeine and sugar. Go get a Red Bull, Benjamin.

Ben frowned. Why. 

Because I want to watch you drink it.  

He looked down at the remainder of their money. Are you hungry.

If I say yes, will you buy the Red Bull.  

He grunted Her name between their heads, and Her soft laugh echoed through his mind.

I’ll take whatever else you get.  

What the fuck do you want, Sunshine-

We’ll share. Go get the food and I’ll find you after I’m done.

Ben nodded to no one and put Her flowers in his pocket, taking one last assessing look around the lot—one more person had parked a white van, but that was it—before heading into the gas station convince store.

These things hadn’t fucking changed in the slightest. Still flickering blue, washed-out fluorescent lights, dirty floors and walls, and messily stocked shelves. Ben stalked over to the drink fridges lining the walls, scanning the shelves for whatever the fuck a Red Bull was—figured out it was a silver and blue can, and decided to get the black and green one a few shelves instead on fucking principle alone—and moved on to find Her some food.

The newer man, with the van, had walked into the store, joining Ben and the acrylic-nailed woman behind the counter, and was studying all the sandwiches and donuts near the register like he might actually find one that didn’t taste like fucking shit. Ben decided to go for the snack isle instead, because he could kick the pussy out of his way, but She’d be eating whatever he ate. Ben wasn’t that fucking hungry, and he knew if he tried to just give Her food and not take any himself, she’d go on a strike and refuse to take a bite until he took one as well. That meant he had to figure out something that they’d both eat, but She’d love more, enough to eat most of it without pawning half off to Ben. And Ben would not take a single fucking bite of a Styrofoam, gas station hot dog, so snacks it was.

He grabbed things he recognized. Potato chips and Rice Krispies and Oreos and Pop Tarts, and then a large bag of chocolates he could insist was only for Her, because he had this stupid fucking energy drink for himself. She needed to drink as well, actually, so Ben returned to the drink isle and scowled at the options. Colorful bottles and over-priced water and juices designed for children that Ben wouldn’t be buying his wife- 

Fuck. He kept doing that. Since DC, Ben’s brain had decided to turn against his own interest of waiting and doing it right to just call Her his wife. She would be—he’d fucking kill the proposal, and make every other romantic thing in history look like a World War—but she wasn’t yet. So he needed to get a goddamn hold over himself, grab one of those fancy fucking water bottles, and pay for everything so they could keep going before Ben did something stupid like asking Her to marry him in a parking lot.

He sensed Her before he even realized her heartbeat had moved. An innate feeling of closer, She’s getting closer, good things are getting closer, and then a ring of a high bell as the door opened. Ben had made his way over to the counter—waiting as the cashier scanned everything in the slowest way goddamn possible—and turned to see Her walking over to him with such a perfect fucking look of ease on her face, a small smile pulling at her lips as she assessed his picks.

She opened Her mouth—eyes meeting Ben’s and full of a fucking light and sheer goddamn happiness that made him high—and that pussy fucking van idiot, mouthful of a sandwich he hadn’t damn paid for yet, stepped between them.

“What’s a pretty little thing like you doing here, honey?”

She froze, and Ben felt his hands curl into fists as something started to twist and flail in his gut.

“I, um, I don’t,” She looked over the man’s shoulder to Ben, and he jerked his head to the Van-Pussy.

Do you want me to kill him-

“You up here with anyone? Nah, no way someone would leave you alone if you were, they’d have to be a fucking cuck.” The man laughed to himself, and Ben took a jerked step forward to rip off his goddamn head.

No murder, Benjamin. 

He halted, keeping his attention on Van-Pussy’s every shift and breath. Some small murder can be fucking justified, he’s got it coming-

I’ve got this. If you need to start punching holes in people, I’ll tell you.

Ben was going to break his own fucking teeth, his clenched jaw becoming slightly strained and almost painful, but he gave a small, curt nod. Swear it-

Promise. “I am actually. Here with someone.”

Van-Pussy laughed again, but this laugh was dismissive, like she was stupid. “Please, honey. I don’t see no one-“

She shrugged. “Then turn around.”

Ben coughed to cover his laugh, and Van-Pussy whipped around to meet his glare.

Then the fucking idiot rolled his eyes. “You could do better than him, darling, you’re way too pretty for him. Come with me, and I’ll show you a real good time.”

That was an insane fucking statement. Ben had issues, but he also knew what his face looked like. He might be the only asshole alive who was close to being as attractive as she was. It was another reason he was fucking built to love Her right, because She deserved to fuck and smile and love someone who could hold even a tiny, flickering candle to the massive, consuming and cleansing inferno of life and beauty that she was.

Ben probably would’ve broken Van-Pussy’s face for that statement alone, then his ribs for calling Her darling, and then his knees for how he’d started to reach for Her, but she was a fucking wonder of the universe and moved faster. Side-stepping Van-Pussy in a smooth movement, reaching a hand out for Ben to wrap his own around on instinct, and let Herself be tugged right up to his side, under his arm, where they both goddamn belonged.

“I’m good, thank you.” She gave Van-Pussy’s wide, almost thunder-struck expression a sweet, toxic, toothless smile, and turned herself and Ben around, back to the counter.

Ben kissed the top of Her head as she fully assessed his choices, the cashier somehow not finished scanning. “I can still fucking kill him if you want-“

She cut off his words, muttered in Her ear, with a turn of her head and full, long, kiss. “No murder, Benjamin, my love.” She hummed into his mouth, and pulled away to rest her head on his shoulder, looking back to the food. “No weed, huh?”

He blinked, frowning between Her and the counter. “What the fuck are you talking about-“

“Weed is legal in New York,” She shrugged. “And a lot of gas stations sell it now. It might not be regulated weed, but that doesn’t really matter to you-“

“Are you fucking with me-“

“Nope.” She bumped their shoulders, and turned to the cashier. “Excuse me, ma’am, do you have any cannabis products-“

The cashier looked up at her with a flat, almost dead-eyed stare. “We got joints, $40 for the bag.”

“Can you add that as well-“ 

The woman turned around to the wall of cigarettes and condoms behind the counter, and She smiled up at Ben.

“See? Weed-“

Ben cupped Her chin, holding her still so he could kiss her as deep and rough as he could manage without starting to fuck her on the disgusting floor of the gas station. She was fucking perfect, and amazing, and all Ben’s and fuck he loved Her so goddamn much-

They only broke apart because the cashier cleared her throat, slamming a bag of weed on the counter and looking at Ben expectantly. “Fifty-five bucks.”

Ben paid—his instance that they didn’t need a bag, because he could fucking carry everything without an issue being shot down by Her sharp glare—and guided Her out of the store, back to the car. Ben winked at Van-Pussy as they passed him, because She was his. She’d chosen Ben, and was tucked at his side with a smile and perfect fucking look of happiness on her beautiful face. She knew Ben, and got him weed, and loved him so much that Ben could see it everywhere. In the trash littered around the gas station and smudges of dirt on the windows of Butcher’s car. In the woods surrounding them and the and the sparkles of glass in the parking lot, in the reflection of rainbow in some stray oil pooling out of the pump, and Her smile as they climbed back into the car.

“No weed now,” She glanced up at him as she pulled items out of the plastic bag, a tone of apology in her voice. “Just because we need to go, and can’t afford to be pulled over if a patrol cop sees the driver smoking a joint.” Her eyes lit up, and Ben knew exactly what she was going to say before her mouth even opened. “Or-“

“You are not driving, Sunshine.” Ben drawled, fighting his smile at the pretty wrinkle of Her nose. “Don’t even fucking try to convince me otherwise.”

“Cunt,” She mumbled, tossing the joints into the back of the car. “What do you want first?”

“Whatever you don’t want.” 

She nodded, frowning at the bag. “Chips?”

“I don’t give a fuck-“

The bag of chips was half-chucked at his face, and Ben looked over to see her holding up the green can, her brows raised.

“Benjamin, this is not a Red Bull-“

“It’s the same shit, isn’t it? And it’s green-“

“Holy fuck, Pretty Boy.” She giggled, passing him the drink. “You’re like a toddler who won’t eat chicken nuggets because they’re not shaped like dinosaurs-“

“Shut the fuck up-“

“I think it’s adorable.” She leaned forwards, propping her chin on his shoulder. “And I love you, you old grump. Drink the Monster.”

Ben scowled, glaring down at Her as he popped the can open. “This is dumb as shit-“

“Yeah, it is. Do it, you pussy-“

He kissed Her once, just to turn her words into a soft moan, and pulled back with a smirk. “Brat.”

He took the drink in one gulp, and almost spat it out over Butcher’s dashboard. 

“Fucking Christ, this tastes like ass-“ He glared at Her, head buried against him and absolutely failing to contain her laughter at his suffering. “People drink this shit on purpose-“

She nodded, her grin wide and toothy and unrestrained as she looked up to meet his eyes. “They do, yeah. It’s like dogshit coca cola, but also helps you finish an essay two hours before it’s due. It has its merits.”

“It’s fucking disgusting,” Ben grumbled, slamming the can into the cup holders for Butcher to throw out later, and She giggled again. “You think this is fucking funny-“

“I do.” She pulled herself up, kissing along Ben’s jaw and taking his hand in Hers. “I think this is hilarious.” 

“You’re so fucking mean to me, Sunshine-“

“You love it.”

He rolled his eyes, but squeezed Her hand and only muttered, “I do, you fucking brat.”

“Thank you for trying that for me-“

“Don’t.” Ben sighed, glancing Her as she settled back into her seat, their hands still tangled together. “I got you something.”

“You got me lots of things.” She looked back to the bag, pulling out the chocolate with a smile. “Very good boyfriending, Benjamin.“

The radiant thing coursed through Ben’s whole body, blooming over his ribs and warming his gut. It was damn near impossible to keep frowning—to keep his brow drawn and face neutral—when she was so contagiously happy. Like disease Ben wanted to,fucking needed to catch.

He shoved his hand into his pocket before he could pussy out, and coughed to regain her full attention. “I got you something else, as well.”

A small frown crossed her face as she titled Her head, scanning over Ben’s very fucking serious expression. “What?” 

He pulled the flower out, extending it for Her to take with a stiff arm. He didn’t have any fucking words for it, because it didn’t need words. This flower was for Her. Ben had picked it for Her, and that was all he goddamn knew how to do. Ben knew how to do things for Her, because it was easier than breathing, and that was it, and it would have to speak for itself.

She was gaping between him and the flower, the whole world almost fucking drowning in the feeling of Her—infinite and good and made of fire and life and love and honey and music and something golden Ben didn’t have a name for—and when she reached out with a slightly shaking hand, her voice was soft.

“You got me a flower?”

Ben grunted an agreement, trying to figure out what the fuck Her exact reaction was. Why she sounded so fucking nervous, when She was electric and overflowing inside on Ben’s body.

“Where-“

“Woods.” He muttered, jerking his head in the vague direction of where the family had stood. “There were fuck ton of them-“

“You,” She swallowed, glossy eyes moving to fully onto Ben’s. “You picked it for me?”

“Of course I picked it for you, who the fuck else would I pick it for-“

She practically launched herself out of Her seat, crashing her mouth into Ben’s, and his words died with a groan as she straddled him. She was kissing Ben like she’d fucking die if she didn’t, grinding down onto him with moans of his name and sounds of want that made his cock grow painfully hard. Her hands were tangled in his hair, their bodies molded perfectly together, and fuck she smelled good, felt good, everything about Her was so fucking good-

“I love you,” She whispered, voice slightly unsteady as she pulled back to watch him, and Ben realized he could taste the salt from her tears. She was fucking crying, why the fuck was she crying-

“You-“

“I love you so much, Ben.” She gave him one last, tender and sweet kiss, smiling against his lips. You’re amazing, and I love the flower, and I really fucking love you.

Ben realized—as he chased Her mouth back to his, feeling how every piece of Her was coated in pure fucking joy—that the tears were happy tears. She was so goddamn happy it was making him feel fucking alive—alive in a way that only She knew how to be, where everything was beautiful and had meaning and somehow Ben was still everything to Her—and he couldn’t fight the grin from crossing his face and She settled back into her seat, fully taking the flower from his hand and looking at it like it she looked at him. Adoring and soft, Her whole face relaxed and not an ounce of pain or fear over her perfect features. She looked at the flower like it was a piece of Ben he’d carved out to offer Her, and that made the stupidity of picking his wife a flower feel more than goddamn worth it.

He’d fucking done it again. Not his wife, yet. Ben could, probably, ask right fucking now and get it right, but they were on a time limit. They had an hour left to go before they reached Edgar, and couldn’t afford to use time for Ben to pull her back over him and tell Her to fucking marry me, Sunshine, because I love you and I’ll give you a whole fucking garden if you ask me to. I’ll kiss you stupid on the grass, surrounded by as many flowers as you want, then fuck you stupider until you’re this happy all the goddamn time. I’ll buy you all the damn snacks you need, and drink a million more of those shit fucking cock-drinks if it always makes you giggle. Just fucking marry me, and I’ll love you however you ask for the rest of our lives. Forever. I’ll love you for fucking ever. 

But stupid things like not letting America fall and crumble under Vought and Homelander made Ben have to start the engine and keep moving. His hand had returned to its home on Her thigh as she rambled about every single, pointless, perfect thought that popped into her head. She loved the color pink, and Ben wasn’t allowed to call it stupid or girly, or she’d put pink and blue glitter in his shampoo and then kick him in the balls. She loved flowers as well, and was proud of Ben for not killing Van-Pussy, and he’d somehow managed to grab her favorite Pop Tart flavor. She made him share her water, and threw an Oreo at his face when he grumbled about how he should’ve fucking killed Van-Pussy, and started reaching between his legs to grab chips as she spoke, which didn’t fucking help him focus on the road at all.

Ben had apparently gotten her a rose milkweed, which was a primary attractor of Monarch Butterflies.

“How fuck do you know that-“

“I went to butterfly garden when I was a kid.” She shrugged, still smiling at the flower and twirling it between her fingers. “They had these everywhere.” 

He grunted—of course She’d just have fucking remembered that—and let her continue on a tangent about butterflies and flowers and whatever the fuck else she wanted to talk about. She was distracted from the meeting with Edgar— drawing closer and closer the longer they drove—and Ben got to hear her voice, so he was good. He could glance at her every few minutes and feel his mouth twitch at the eager, bright expression on her face as she spoke, and wonder if She’d want to go to a butterfly garden again. If that would make Her keep smiling like this, if She might tackle him and call him amazing again.

He’d gave to figure that out later. Right now, they were parking in the back lot of Edgar’s prison, and had a fucking job to do. She’d slowly fallen silent as they’d driven through the gate—her hand tapping against Ben’s and teeth visible as she gnawed on her lips—and when the engine turned off, Ben waited. Stay right at Her fucking side, holding and watching her until she took a long, heavy breath and met his eyes.

“The plan-“

“Go in,” Ben grunted. “Give Edgar the keys, but not the V, and clear my debt. Try and get him to tell us what the fuck the keys are for, and let you take the lead if he asks about the V. No talking to anyone but Edgar and MM’s contact, no lingering and fighting if shit goes south. If hell breaks loose, get the fuck out and don’t look back.”

She nodded slowly. “If another guard asks who we are?”

“Let our insider take of it.”

“And if someone recognizes us-“

“They won’t,” Ben grinned, reaching over and dropping Her sunglasses from her brow to her nose. “Because we won’t be around long enough for a single fucking pussy to realize who we are.”

“Do you-“

Ben grabbed the stupid fucking Red Sox cap she’d bought him from the backseat, glowering at Her as he dropped it over his hair. “There is no goddamn reason it had to be Red Sox-“

“The reason is that I think you look very handsome,” an infinite, sharp light danced in Her eyes, and she leaned up to kiss Ben over his beard, holding his jaw with a gentle touch. “When you’re so grumpy about a hat.”

“It’s fucking blue-“

“You’ll live, you massive fucking baby.” She dropped back, giving her own body—wearing her sunglasses, Ben’s green shirt, and a green jacket Annie had gifted to her—a dramatic gesture. “And I’m wearing enough green for both of us. Let’s haul ass Pretty Boy, so we can get it over with.”

Ben scowled, but climbed out of the car, half-running around the car to get her door before She could even fucking think to do it herself.

She smiled up at him—taking Ben’s hand and letting him help her out of her seat—and pressed Her palm to his chest as she gave him one last kiss. Barely a brush, just enough for Ben to have time to wrap his around fully around her waist and hold her face, dragging his thumb over her lips as they separated.

“Such a fucking gentleman.”

She was teasing him, but the words still made Ben’s heart almost pound out of his goddamn chest, made his whole fucking body wrathful and illuminated and fall in time with Her. Her, Her, Her, Ben fucking loved Her, and nothing was could have been better than this, be better than this, be better than them, burning together fucking always.

“Shut up, brat.“ Ben rolled his eyes, deciding to ignore how she could obviously fuck see—and defiantly fucking feel—how everything in his body was made of rough, permanent, immoveable affection and love for Her. “Ready?”

“Ready.” Her hand fisted in Ben’s shirt, her head dropping to take long, steady breaths against him before looking back up, her face set and focused. “Let’s do this.”

MM’s contact was a surly, uptight man who worked for the prison and grunted more than Ben did. He’d looked them up and down, muttered a request for proof of identification—neither of them had that, so She set her hand on fire and Ben snapped the man’s baton in half—and then nodded, gesturing for them to follow him. If he thought it was noteworthy how Ben’s arm was resting on Her hips—held there by her hand over his—the man was smart enough not to say a fucking thing and only lead them long, twisting, empty halls to a steel-doored room, identical to last time.

“He’s in there,” the man—he’d said his name, and Ben hadn’t been fucked to remember it—told them, looking Her and Ben up and down with a frown. “You got an hour before he needs to be back in his cell.”

“Got it,” She was braced at Ben’s side, every word coming out careful and neutral. “Thank you.”

The man just shrugged, moving to stand against the wall and keep guard. “MM wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t serious as shit, so don’t worry about it.”

She sighed, nodding, and looked back to Ben. I’ve got the keys, is it okay if I do most of the talking-

The talking is your shit, Sunshine. Ben kissed the space between Her eyes, dropping his head until their brows were pressed together and he could study Her pretty, sharp eyes. I’ve got you, but you’re doing the damn talking.

Okay. She took another, grounding breath, and Her heartbeat grew a little more natural before she pulled back, and pushed the door open.

Edgar was indeed waiting for them, handcuffed to a table and humming bland tune that halted as they entered the room.

He said Her name first, eyes not even fucking darting to Ben. “How lovely to see you again.”

“Is it?” She dropped in one of the two metal chairs across from Edgar, pulling Ben with her. “I’d say it’s mediocre at best.”

Edgar huffed a small laugh. “I suppose the circumstances could improve vastly, but at least you have Benjamin.”

Ben got a nod, and before he could snap at Edgar to stop fucking calling him that, She did it for him. 

“Edgar,” She leaned over the table, eyes on Edgar’s a dry, silent threat. “For both our sakes, don’t call him that.”

“Ah.” Edgar hummed Her name. “I never took you for the territorial sort-“ 

“I’m not. But every time you call my Ben Benjamin, you’re in danger of getting your head ripped off, which would be a real bummer for you, and I’m in danger of visualizing things I have no interest in visualizing.” 

“Would I be able to hear an example of such a thing-“ 

“Do you have a guess as to what three times I call him Benjamin the most are?” She barely waited a second for Edgar to think before she continued a lazy, edged smile on her face. “Never mind, I’ll just tell you. When I’m pissed at him, when I’m telling him I love him, and when he’s fucking me. So forgive me if I don’t want to imagine my boyfriend’s cock in your mouth, Stan. I think I’m doing us all a favor with that.”

Ben might have made sour, lip-curled face at the idea of Edgar giving him head if his brain wasn’t spinning around Her calling him her boyfriend again. Husband would sound better. My husband was almost as fucking good as my Ben, and they did very fucking similar things to his whole fucking existence. Reduced everything to Her, a riot and song of Her.

Edgar didn’t have the same thing weighing down his disgust, though, because the pussy just sighed, shaking his head. “Your very disturbing point has been taken. Shall we move to business?”

“What else are we even here for?”

“Indeed.” Edgar looked between them, Ben rigid at Her side and her fingers tapping a quick, unyielding pattern of Moon River on the table. “I trust you managed to fulfill my request without issue?” 

Ben wouldn’t call Red River without issue—between Her having to move around a Vought Facility by herself, Ben being unable to do a single fucking thing but wait and try not to punch Hughie in the throat as he offered attempted words of comfort, and the whole fucking Ashley thing, it was a little damn insane nobody had died—but She nodded, giving Edgar a passive shrug.

“Everyone made it out in one piece. Consider your request,” She reached into her pocket and held up the keys for Edgar to see before tossing them onto the table. “Fulfilled.”

Edgar barely fucking looked at the keys, just enough to acknowledge their presence before returning his gaze to Her. “I’d hazard that you’ve speculated on their nature with your delightful band of misfits?”

“We’d be terrible at our jobs if we didn’t.”

“Most of you are quite awful at your jobs. But you,” Edgar said Her name with a thin-lipped smile. “Seem quite capable. Would you mind sharing with me your conclusions?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Would you tell me if I hit on anything correct?”

“I’d offer one better, and share their home and use with you. All you have to do is tell me what you believe my answer will be.”

She paused, blinking at Edgar, and Ben frowned. They hadn’t expected Edgar to just fucking volunteer that information.

I don’t fucking trust it, Sunshine-

I don’t either. She glances over at him, and Ben could see a little hint of quickly drying blood as she chewed through her lips. But we have to play his game, and get this over with.

“Whenever you care to begin-“

“Fine.” She turned back to Edgar, cutting him off with clipped words. “I think it’s for a house, or some other form of private property.”

A small, snake-like smile played on Edgar’s lips. “Why?”

“Because it’s a skeleton key, but it’s also magnet based, which means it’s meant to unlock multiple, potentially high-security doors. It’s an intricate design, complicated, which means it’s probably not just as house, but all the same it’s yours. Not Vought’s. Vought would’ve sprung for a smart key. You chose not to.”

“Did I?” Edgar hummed, his face and tone still insufferably fucking unreadable. “Perhaps it is simply not that valuable-“

“Wrong. It is.” She poked at the keys on the table with a shrug. “If it’s a house, it’s a house with a name. Only rich assholes name their houses, and only weird cryptic fucks use fancy master keys. It might not be something dangerous, but it’s valuable. Important enough for you to hide.”

“Impressive.” Edgar nodded, his tone sounds almost fucking delighted. “Would you like to hear the real answer?”

She didn’t dignify Edgar’s words with anything but a half-passive shrug, Her eyes on him still sharp and clear.

“They are mine, but you were wrong in saying that they were not Vought’s as well. Before they came into my possession, they were the property of one Dr. Fredrick Vought. I’m sure you’ve heard of his unfortunate history-“

“You mean the Nazi thing?” She said, voice flat. “Yeah, I might have.”

“Do you remember who the Nazi’s were allied with, during Vought’s time within the party?“

“The axis powers were the Third Reich, Italy, and Japan. But I don’t-“

“Smart girl.” Edgar’s smile twisted further over his face. “See, Dr. Vought may have lost faith in Germany’s capabilities and defected to America, but he returned to Europe many times after the war’s conclusion. He’d made several friends within Mussolini’s party, and paid them a visit from time to time. It was a retreat for him, a time to enjoy like-minded company and get extra eyes on his various projects. Even after he’d perfected compound V, Vought still made many trips back to Italy, if only for leisure. Around the 60s, he went so far as to have a villa built in one of his favorite spots, and named it the Cornucopia. A villa I inherited when he stepped down, and passed me the mantle of Vought CEO. These,” Edgar nodded back to the keys. “Serve as the master key, for the master of the house. Myself.”

She frowned. “Wouldn’t that technically mean they’re Ashley’s? If the villa is traditionally passed down from CEO to CEO?”

“It would,” Edgar sighed. “I’m afraid it absolutely slipped my mind into the chaos of my arrest to alert my successor of its location or existence. However, given that Dr. Vought and I are the only two owners, I wouldn’t quite call it tradition, which is why I am more than comfortable skipping over Mr. Barrett altogether and gifting it to you.”

Ben had very fucking rarely seen Her purely shocked. Gaping and wide-eyed, her beautiful face a picture of confusion, looking at Edgar like he’d just started speaking a different fucking language.

“I, um, I don’t-“

She stuttered and tripped over words when she was short-circuiting. When Her brain was overloaded with fear or lust, and had worked itself into a fucking overdrive Ben usually knew how to fix—holding Her until she was happy again, or fucking Her until she was stupid and glossy-eyed, and managed to kick herself back into gear—but didn’t have a goddamn idea how to help now.

“What the fuck do you mean, gifting it to her.” Ben took over, squeezing his hand on her hips in a silent reassurance, and fucking prayed that some answers would help bring her back down. 

“I mean what I say. The property and all its contents now belong to you,” Edgar angled his head to Her, saying her full name.

“Why.”

“Because, Soldier Boy, I like her. A feeling I am sure you will not take issue with-“

Ben scowled. “You’re not the gifting type, you dick, so tell us why-“ 

“I am afraid it is no more complex than a simple an affection and well-wish. I’ve been feeling more generous,as of late, and no longer have use for a villa halfway across the world.” Edgar turned away from Ben, back to Her. “You are clever, with a hopefully bright future, and I believe you may find worth in it.”

That seemed to pull Her back down enough to respond, thought Her voice softer, more uncertain, than usual. “Worth? What kind of worth?” 

Edgar dismissed Her question entirely. “You may also keep your V. I do not doubt that you’d simply forgotten it,” he looked between Her and Ben with a raised brow. “But it was never fully mine to begin with. I trust you won’t be foolish with such a volatile and dangerous drug, and if you are, please keep it far away from me.”

She blinked, glancing back down to the keys. “I can’t take these-“

“Take them or not, they’re now yours.”

“But-“ 

“It is a gift,” Edgar said Her name, voice slightly more edged. “It cannot be returned. Should you leave the keys here, they will be your lost property. Your responsibility.”

“It’s,” She cleared her throat, raising her still voice to a steady tone. “It’s in Italy?”

Edgar nodded. “Rome. The northern area, I believe. Forgive me, I only had a chance to see it once.”

She swallowed slightly. “And it’s mine?”

“Correct.”

She pulled her gaze fully from the keys, onto Edgar. “Is that, that’s all? No hidden plans or debts or secret terms?”

“If you are asking about Soldier Boy’s debt, it is forgiven.” Edgar’s cold smile had returned, his attention moving to Ben. “It was a pleasure doing business with you, and I’d shake your hand, but as you can see,” he pulled slightly on his cuffs. “I am otherwise occupied.”

Ben just grunted, and she took a long breath.

“We’re done here, then?”

“Tragically, yes.” Edgar sighed. “Our time has run out.”

“Awesome.” She stood up, Ben’s arm half supporting her, and gave Edgar a small, tight nod. “Have a good life, I guess. And, uh, thanks.”

“Gifts do not require thanks,” Edgar said Her name with a bored smile. “And I am sure we will be seeing each other again.” 

“Yeah, well.�� She grabbed the keys off the table, returning them to her pocket. “Here’s hoping we don’t.” 

Before they left, she found Edgar a piece of paper to write the address on, Ben giving Edgar a long, angry glare—just for the fucking sake of it—until She tugged him back into the hall. MM’s contact was waiting, and barely looked at them before he grunted to follow his lead out. Ben looked down at Her as they walked, a grin tugging at his face.

You got a fucking house.

Villa. She corrected him in Her head with a sigh, leaning further into his side. And it’s a Nazi villa, so I’m not exactly thrilled.

Who gives a fuck what it was, Sunshine. Ben nudged Her shoulder, waiting for her to look up before continuing. It’s yours now, and you can do whatever the hell you want with it.

She blinked at him as they exited the prison. Like what?

Fill it with bugs and rat shit. Or baby animals and chocolate-

That’s dangerous, Ben, a lot of animals can’t eat chocolate-

He rolled his eyes. Then make it a fucking hospital, smartass, or an orphanage. Live in it or blow it up. Whatever the fuck you do with it, it’s yours.

Ours. She smiled at Ben, and the radiance bloomed around his heart and along his spine. We’re fuck-buddy-brain-connected, Benjamin, so the villa is your problem as well.

He should do it now. Ben should just fucking pin Her against Butcher’s car, kiss Her until she was fully relaxed in his arms, drop to his knees, and do it. Tell Her that they’ll be fuck-buddy-brain-connected forever, and he’d never call them that aloud, so they should just get fucking married so she could say you’re my husband, Benjamin, so the villa is your problem as well, and Ben could kiss Her softly and mutter that nothing with her was a problem. She was the best thing in his fucking life, and she couldn’t be a problem if she tried. And She certainly fucking had. Also, just as another damn bonus, Ben could call Her his wife to anyone who was around to hear it, and they could have world-ending engagement sex in Butcher’s backseat, until the pussy couldn’t drive without smelling Ben’s cum and Her squirting.

And Ben probably would have actually gone through with that plan, had they not reached the car to find Sister Sage in the driver’s seat, sorting through their remaining snacks with The Deep at her side, his feet up on the dashboard.

Ben grabbed his gun—half shoving Her behind him as he yanked open the door—and pressed its barrel to Sage’s temple. “What the fuck are you pussies doing here.”

Sage didn’t even flinch, turning her head to meet their eyes and moving the gun to her brow as The Deep started to climb over, shouting protests Ben could barely hear over the ringing in his ears.

“Hey, dude! That’s not cool-“

“Deep,” She’d moved back to Ben’s side, a light hand on arm in a silent request not to yet shoot. “Shut up-“

“No, you shut up, you traitorous whore bitch-“

Ben re-aimed the gun at the Deep, who cut himself off with a swallow. “You watch your fucking mouth when you speak to her, fish-fuck.“

“Or what.” In a remarkable act of sheer fucking stupidity that was impossible to mistake for bravery, the Deep kept talking. “What’s so magic about her blowjobs that she’s got every fucking guy who gets one obsessed with her-“

Ben clicked off the safety, raising the gun slightly higher. “I warned you.“

“Hey, dude, woah, calm down.” The Deep raised his hands, cowering like a fucking pussy. “I didn’t know you were serious about-“

Sage raised her hand, and the Deep fell silent.

“Call off your hound,” Sage said Her name in a lazy, almost annoyed tone, and Ben’s grip on the gun almost snapped it in half. “We’re here to talk.”

She looked between Sage and the Deep with weary eyes, and didn’t tell Ben to lower the gun. “How did you know we were here.”

“We received a tip that the Anomaly and Soldier Boy were alone together in upstate New York, only an hour away from Stan Edgar’s prison.” Sage gave Here a flat look. “It doesn’t take genius to connect those dots. And I am a genius.”

She glanced at Ben. Fuck, someone must have recognized us-

Van-Pussy.

Who-

The asscuck that tried to hit on you. Nobody else but the cashier saw us, and she was high as tits.

Damn it. Light danced slightly in Her eyes, even as her expression remained set and passive. I should have let you kill him.

Ben knew She was joking, but that didn’t stop his grunted, smug response of, damn right you should have.

She wrinkled her nose at him and turned back to Sage, who was watching them with a titled head. “What do you want.”

“What was that?” Sage looked between Her and Ben with a wolfish smile. “What did you two just do?”

The Deep frowned. “They didn’t do anything, they just stared at each other for like a minute

“Exactly, you fucking idiot.” Sage rolled her eyes. “But something still happened. Can I guess?” 

“No.” She snapped, glancing back to the Deep. “What’s he doing here?”

“I got the tip, I fucking caught you-“

“You thought it was nothing.” Sage shot the Deep a cold glare. “And only told me because you’re mandated to pass on any report of the Anomaly’s actively.”

Ben heard Her heart pick up pace in her chest as the Deep turned red, stumbling over his words. “Well, I’m the one that had the helicopter idea-“

“And I flew it. You’re only here because you’d have gone to Homelander if you didn’t.” 

“You,” She looked between Sage and the Deep. “You haven’t told Homelander.”

“Of course not.” Sage dismissed Her with a shrug. “I’m here to talk to you, not monologue and blow you up.”

Her nails dug into Ben’s arm, and Her words were slow, careful. “That’s not interesting, is it.”

A smile that Ben didn’t fucking understand, but made Her lean further into him, crossed Sage’s face. “Exactly. Homelander’s a fucking idiot. I can’t have him messing this up.”

“Hey, don’t talk about my man Homelander like that, I could still tell him what you’re up to-“

“No, you can’t.” Sage didn’t look at the Deep as she cut him off, her attention locked between Ben and—primarily—Her. “Go to him now, and you’re an accomplice. You kept this from him, and he won’t be forgiving of that.”

The blood drained from the Deep’s face, and She cleared her throat. 

“Why are you here, Sage. What do you want.” 

“Like I said before, to talk-“ 

“About what.” 

Sage’s wolfish grin returned, cruel and jeering and fucking annoying as shit. “You’ll see.”

Ben kept his eyes on Sage and the Deep’s every movement as he spoke, low and gruff, down the line to Her head. I can just fucking shoot them, and we can go-

No. She sighed, squeezing Ben’s arm once. The only way out of this is to talk to them.

Or kill them-

Sage will have a failsafe for that. And I think she really is just here to talk.

Ben scowled. Why.

She knows she can’t kill us. Homelander, She took a heavy breath, and Ben risked a glance to see her face hollow and tired. Homelander isn’t here. He’s not the wait and hide type. And Sage won’t call him until she and the Deep are far away from whatever happens after he arrives. She has something to say, or she’d have just sent Homelander to start with. And I want to hear what it is.

They make single wrong fucking move-

And you shoot them. “Get out of the car, and we can talk.”

“Good choice.” Sage climbed out of the driver’s seat, crossing her arms as the Deep scrambled out behind her. “I’m sure we could all build a little more trust if I didn’t have a gun pointed at me for the duration of our conversation.”

“Tough fucking shit.” Ben growled, tracking the Deep’s stumbling steps to Sage’s side. “Talk.”

“Fine.” Sage sighed, turning to Her. “I believe you have something I want.”

Her features remained passive, but her body was half falling onto Ben’s. He shot an arm around Her waist—gun still set on Sage—and her hand held him there as she resounded with bored words. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Well, as I’m sure Ashley has told you-“

“I haven’t seen Ashley since I left the tower-“

“Please.” Sage gave Her a pointed look. “Ashley’s last known location was Red River, the same day that hours of camera footage were erased, and several windows were melted away. I know she’s defected, but it’s fine. I’ve accounted for it. But she may have mentioned to you that I’ve been hounding Stan Edgar for months, and you might be able to help me get what I want.”

“Why the fuck would we ever help you-“

Sage’s words were dry but firm over Ben’s. “Because everyone has something they want. And I could help you, if you helped me.”

“How,” She paused, studying Sage’s face. “Why would you help us?”

“I wouldn’t be helping you, I’d be exchanging a good for a service.” Sage looked between Her and Ben—Ben’s arm around Her body, Her finger’s tangled in his—and smirked. “If you give me the Cornucopia, I’ll help you get out.”

“What’s the Cornucopia-“

“What I’m looking for.“ Sage shrugged. “Edgar told me he had someone retrieving it, and now you’re here. When you find it, bring it to me instead, and you’ll be done. Forever.”

Ben caught it that time. The slight stumble of Her heart tipped him off, but he hadn’t missed those words. When you find it. Sage didn’t know they had it now.

They had a fucking advantage.

Sunshine-

I know. “What do you mean done.” She asked aloud, eyes narrowed. “How is that our end.”

“Because you’ll be gone.” Sage said, a glint in her eyes. “You’ll leave New York, leave Butcher and his cohort of idiots, leave Vought and Homelander and this whole fucking country, and never look back. And I’ll ensure nobody ever finds you again.”

Ben went rigid. Out. Really fucking out, with nobody to ever bother them again. She’d be safe, and Ben would be with her. Nobody would ever try to take him away from Her, and nothing would make her cry anything but happy, easy tears for the rest of their fucking lives.

“Why.” She frowned, fingers tapping on Ben’s hand. “If Ben and I go, that’s it. No more games, or battles. It’s not interesting.”

“It could be.” Sage grinned, and it was fucking blood-curling. “You could make one last statement, really fuck up everything up, and leave. You could affirm Starlight’s story, tell Homelander you’ve never loved him, and I’d have to clean that up. You could shoot Butcher up with that V you stole from Homelander, and let them go scorched earth while you’re far, far away from it. Fucking your boyfriend and never thinking about any of this again. You could make it interesting, however you want, and get out. I’m sure you want out. Wouldn’t it be so nice for you to just be done?”

It would be the be best thing in the goddamn world to be done. To leave, and never look back. To just be at goddamn peace together, and fuck on a beach or in a forest, and let some other sorry fuckers deal with the fallout of this whole goddamn thing. Ben had faith in Her ability to deal Sage one last blow that would be difficult to fix, and their team would be able get the V and kill Homelander themselves. Sage might fucking stab them in the back, but they could take extra precautions themselves. Measures to make sure that it was just Her and Ben forever.

But no Ryan. None of the rest of their team, and no freedom. Ben could hear Her heart—stuttering and rapid against him—and knew that this would just be locking Her up in a new goddamn way. And Ben wouldn’t be fucking worthy of Her. He’d be pulling her away from every single other thing she loved—and a few things he tolerated more than others—just to have her to himself. And he’d never fucking do that to her. She deserved to have the whole fucking world, not just a small sliver Sage offered them. She wouldn’t be able to help anyone, and She needed to help, or she’d go fucking insane. They’d both be away from Ryan, and the kid was just starting to calm the fuck down and stop blaming himself for everything. Christ, She was just starting to stop blaming herself of everything. And Ben, Ben was still repenting.

He was repenting. He was fucking repenting, and this war was part of that. His whole goddamn life was about Her, and he knew that if he told Sage he was in, She’d love him enough to follow him. She loved Ben, and it still wasn’t something he’d ever fully deserve—how infinite and powerful and intoxicating Her love was—so had to keep goddamn earning it.

“Shove it up your evil fucking ass with the stick, Sage.” He grunted, his hold on Her hips tightening. “We don’t need your goddamn help. We can get out ourselves, after we kill all you spineless fucking pussies.”

Sage gave him an almost amused look. “The offer wasn’t for you to decide on, Soldier Boy-“

“His answer is my answer.” She cut Sage off with a shrug, and Ben felt something hot and prideful and loud grow near his heart. “No.”

“You’d let a foolish, violent man speak for you?” Sage scoffed Her name, and Her hand grew warm in Ben’s. “Even if you love him, I’d have expected better-“

“Why?” She snapped,  the look of pure fucking blood and exhausted wrath on her face one Ben knew to mean danger. “Everyone keeps expecting better of me, but they really fucking shouldn’t. I’m going to let Ben speak for me, because he loves me, and he knows me. We’ll pass on your offer, but thanks.”

Sage’s face was drawn in a tight frown and analytical glare, probably trying to figure out how to talk them over to her side—she wouldn’t fucking succeeded—but the Deep was gaping. Looking between Her and Ben with wide, confused eyes.

“You,” The Deep cleared his throat, voice uncertain. “You dudes are like, in love love? Not just fucking?”

Something sparked in Her eyes, and she leaned forward slightly as she answered. “Yep. Love love. But we do also fuck. A lot.”

The Deep swallow. “Oh.”

“Real nasty sex as well.” She shrugged, a smirk playing over her pretty lips. “He’s good with his hands, and his dick is huge. I mean, the sex would be good regardless, I love him more than life, but he has a massive dick. It helps.”

Ben frowned, glaring down at Her. What the fuck are you doing.

Trust me. We need to rile him up.

Why the hell-

Sage can’t stand stupidity. If we can get her to fight with the Deep, the dumbest person I know, then one of them might slip.

Ben looked back to the Deep, and if that was what they needed to do, it was working. The fish-pussy had turned red, and his eyes seemed like they were going to pop out of his goddamn head.

“Uh, congrats. Sage, we should like, tell Homelander that-“

“Do not tell Homelander anything, you fucking idiot.” Sage hissed. “And shut up-“

“But if they’re like, really serious-“ The Deep cut himself off, looking back to Her. “Is it serious-“

“Yes.” Ben’s words were short and firm, because he’d been five fucking seconds from proposing to Her before these two goddamn fuckheads had shown up. She looked up at him with a small smile and sharp amusement, bumping their shoulders.

It’s serious, Pretty Boy?

Shut the fuck up. Ben rolled his eyes at Her pretty, perfect, teasing face. I love you, or course it’s fucking serious.

She hummed, a little light blooming in Ben’s head, even as Sage and the Deep continued arguing. We are fuck-buddy-brain-connected. 

Brat- 

“If it’s serious,” the Deep was still fucking whining, and Sage looked two seconds from punching him. “Homie should know. He thinks she still loves him, but she’s clearly with Soldier Boy-“

She snorted. “Did you just fucking call Homelander Homie?”

“Yeah, I did.” The Deep’s chest puffed out, and he shot Her a glare. “He’s my bro, and I’m not going to let some hot piece of ass string him along when she’s in love with his dad-“ 

Ben moved to gun to the Deep, and the pussy’s words stuttered off. “Fucking watch it.” 

“Hey man,” the Deep raised his hands, palms up. “I was like, fucking around before, but her head can’t be that good. Homie deserves better, and you’re like, a man man. Don’t let some chick control you-“

“I don’t control him.” She snapped, and Sage fucking laughed. A dry, empty laugh that made Her swallow and Ben feel fucking sick as he re-aimed the gun at Sage’s head. 

“Doesn’t she?” Sage looked between them, voice dripping with a mocking, fake sweetness. “I remember Soldier Boy being an honorable, strong gentleman. But here you are, pointing a gun at a vulnerable woman when you’re at a clear advantage, letting to your girlfriend tell you what to do like a pathetic little dog.”

Ben didn’t fucking care about Sage’s mocking words. He was being honorable, because he was protecting Her. He was fucking helping her, and listening to Her because she fucking had this, and Ben trusted her. He wasn’t listening to a woman, he was listening to his woman. The most perfect one in history, who was half hanging off his arm with glazed eyes, her breathing mechanical as something loose and hollow writhed around in Ben’s—Her—gut.

And that was what Ben fucking cared about. How Sage’s words had made everything fucking horrid and vile because She was hurt by them, and nothing was fucking allowed to hurt her. Not when Ben could fucking do something about it.

“You are not a vulnerable woman,” Ben hissed at Sage, something like bile on his tongue. “You’re an evil, conniving bitch.”

Sage didn’t even goddamn waver, continuing as if Ben hadn’t even fucking spoken. “It’s not healthy, your little arrangement. Love or not, you’re going to be lost and alone when she eventually leaves you.” Sage’s jeering, skin-crawling smile was covering her whole fucking face. “And she will leave you, Soldier Boy. She’ll realizes that you’re not a white knight, come to save her and the world from Homelander, and she’ll leave you.”

“Watch your fucking mouth-“

“You’re not an angel. You’re not good enough to heal what Homelander did to her, and she’ll realize that soon.” Ben’s vision was lined with red, his body goddamn frozen as drums sounded far, far in the distance, and Sage kept fucking talking. “That Homelander gets all his anger from somewhere. That you’re no better than he is, because when she tries to leave you, you won’t let her go. You’ll grovel like a child, and when she says no, you’ll force her to stay. Lock her up and keep her just for yourself-“

She was moving before Ben even fucking registered that She’d let go of his arm. Her smoking, flame-wrapped fist flew through the air and collided with Sage’s face, and a hiss echoed through the air as Sage let out a shriek of pain. Ben saw a flash of something metallic—the Deep shouting and flying at Her with a raised fist—and shot. The fish-fuck landed in the dirt at Sage’s side, the bullet wound on his shoulder more than fucking effective as he whimpered in pain. It wasn’t enough to kill the pussy—She hadn’t killed Sage, so Ben had followed suit—but enough to bleed out if no aid arrived.

“You manipulative fucking cunt.” She was a step in front of Ben, glaring down and Sage and the Deep on the pavement. “Ben might not be a white knight, but he’s nothing like Homelander, and you fucking know it. He’s certainly a better fucking person than you are.”

Sage’s words were unsteady and strained, but still crude. Still fucking hateful. “If you really believe that, you’re not as smart as I gave you credit for-“ 

“And I don’t fucking care.” She hissed. “Next time you say anything like that to him, I’ll burn your fucking brain out of your skull.”

“We’re not done here-“ 

She huffed a dry, empty laugh. “Yeah. You are. Ben and I are going to leave, and you’re not going to follow us. And if you try to call Homie, then it will be over. I’ll kill everyone, and that will be it.” 

Sage scoffed Her name. “You can’t really think I’ll fall for such an obvious bluff-“

“I don’t need you to, because it’s not a bluff.” She leaned down slightly, holding Sage’s glare. “Homelander shows up, I kill him, and you, and the Deep. If that somehow kills me, then fine. At least it we’ll be done. Really fucking done. No games. Not interesting.”

Sage spat out blood, eyes narrowed on Her’s. “That’s cheating.”

“Maybe,” She shrugged, rising back up and looping her arm through Ben’s. “But I don’t care.”

Something was still fucking aching and toxic in Ben’s body and she pulled him back to the car. It hadn’t been a bluff. Ben knew how to read Her bluffs, and that hadn’t fucking been one. And She wouldn’t have killed Ben. He would’ve been left to wait in a scorched forest for the rest of goddamn time, waiting for Her to walk out of the smoke and smile at him again. She’d have burned out without him, and he’d never be able to fucking hold her again.

Sage doesn’t know what the Cornucopia is. She slid into the passenger’s seat, letting out a long breath. But she’s still looking for it, which isn’t good-

Ben grunted Her name between their heads, his grip on the wheel white-knuckled, bending the metal under his hands. You know I’d never fucking do that shit to you-

Of course I know that-

And I’ll never let Homelander hurt you again. Ben started the engine, holding Her attention with a glare. If he ever fucking comes for you, you’re not fighting him alone. You burn, I burn, Sunshine, that was the fucking deal. We’d kill Homelander and Sage and the Deep, together. Got it?

She gave Ben a soft smile, and nodded, her voice in his head low and gentle. I got it. Ready?

Ben grunted. Ready. You’re good.

I’m good. She sighed, leaning her head onto Ben’s shoulder as he began to drive. I’ve got you, Benjamin, my love. I’m good.

Even as they drove away from Sage and the Deep on the pavement, with a whole new fucking problem that was made of what the fuck do they do about the Cornucopia now on their hands, Ben grinned. That radiance covered his chest and gut and skin, and nothing really fucking mattered but Her, and finishing this. Finally being free of this dogshit circus, and being a little more worthy of Her hand in his, forever.

There wasn’t really that much shit left to do before they could be free, and together, forever.

—————————

It’s been a long, shit fucking day, and you’re only halfway done with it. Your blood is yours, and your skin barely has an itch beneath it, but you’re so fucking tired.

And you’re not sure if it’s that piece of your brain inside of him, or just how well Ben knows you, but the asshole has started to coddle you. His hand has returned to rest on your thigh—it’s there so often you’re starting to think his palm has developed some sort of magnet to your leg—and he’s very obviously doing everything he can to distract you from how this is your last shot. That this might end with blood in gutters and covering hands, but—if you do this right—it will all be done. This has to be done. There are too many other battles to fight for this truly critical one to not be wonsoon.

And Ben won’t let you think about that. He seems to have decided for himself that his job is to drive you around—because he’s a dick who has flat out refused to ever let you behind the wheel of a car on account of it being dangerous to everyone on the fucking road—and keep your brain everywhere but they imminent threat of Homelander. Sage. The CIA and Mallory, what will the after look like and who gets to have one, why would Edgar just give you a Nazi villa, and what the fuck does Sage want with it when she doesn’t even seem to know it’s a villa-

“You’re hungry.”

You look over to Ben, his eyes set on the road ahead of you. “What?”

“Your stomach,” he mutters. “It growled. You’re hungry.”

You are hungry. And it might just be Ben’s deep, firm, certain voice and how your body obeys it more than you, but it doesn’t really matter because suddenly you realize that you’re hungry.You’d eaten breakfast this morning, before you’d left for Edgar, and then the snacks Ben had bought you close to noon, but that’s it. It’s late afternoon, the sky turning red and gold on the horizon, and you’re really, really hungry.

“There’s a rest stop in a few miles-“

“No.” Ben snaps, glancing at you with a scowl. “Not a fucking chance.”

You sigh, because he’s right. You can’t risk being recognized again, and this wouldn’t be a sketchy, overgrown gas station. This was a rest stop on an interstate highway.

“So what should we do?” You watch Ben carefully, because you can feel his resolve ripping in half, and you think he’s fighting with himself about something.

“They still got McDonalds on highways?”

You smile, propping your chin on his shoulder. “Are we in America?”

Ben snorts, and the resolve settles back into itself. Firm and concrete and all around you like a hot, stone shield. “Brat.”

“Cunt. Are we getting McDonalds?”

He gives you a curt nod, eyes darting to meet yours and the glow inside him crossing over your ribs and blooming in your heart.

He’s so fucking handsome. The sunset is making him look golden—dark hair and defined features and eyes that follow you in the earth and fill you with life—and it’s not making it easy for to you remind yourself that he’s not an angel.

It helps to remember that angels aren’t real, and Ben is very real. He’s warm under your touch, and strong and careful in his natural hold on you. His thumb is rubbing circles on your skin, and his arm muscles keep flexing as he drives, and you want them around you, holding you to his chest as his cock hits that deepest spot inside you. You want to see his beautiful eyes watch you unravel under him, want to hear his low, teasing, affectionate voice make your stomach warm as he calls you good and beautiful and darling-

“Are you going to answer me, Sunshine, or just keep fucking drooling?”

You blink, and see his smirk, feel his whole body rushing with a cocky, bright pride. “I don’t-“

“You were staring, and it’s real fucking rude,” He drawls your name, squeezing his hand against you. “I’m not a piece of meat for you to objectifine.”

“Objectify.” You correct, even as your face grows warm. “And I don’t feel that bad about objectifying you, Pretty Boy. You’ve objectified me.”

“When the fuck-“

“What was the very first thing you noticed about me?”

Ben pauses, brows drawn, and you realize he’s actually thinking about it. You’d expected a small grunt of how the fuck am I supposed to remember that, Sunshine, it was over half a goddamn year ago, but his fist is clenched on the wheel, and he’s glowering at the road, so he’s really trying to give you an actual answer.

“Heartbeat.”

You tilt your head at him. “Heartbeat?”

“Your heartbeat was normal,” he grunts, his jaw set and words low. “When you woke me up. Mallory, Butcher, and Annie were all being anxious pussies, and Hughie was going to fucking piss himself, but you weren’t afraid. Of me.”

Ben glances at you as he finished, something so bloody and powerful inside of his body, and his gaze filled with it. A twisted and pious awe that’s all for you, that ignites your blood in a way that makes you feel seen. Seen and really fucking alive.

“I,” you swallow, fighting your urge to climb on top of Ben and kiss him all over his stupid, handsome face, if only because that’s not very safe driving. “Oh. I thought you’d say my tits.”

“I noticed your tits as well,” he shrugs, winking at you. “But that’s only because I’m not fucking dead, and you’re the most beautiful woman in history.”

You wrinkle your nose at him, and try to ignore how you need to touch him, or else you might explode into a mess of Ben. Loving you and always being so sweet at the worst, most inconvenient time. “Shut up-”

“No.” Suddenly, something is tight and sore over your lungs and around your throat—Ben’s lungs and throat—and when he speaks again, his voice is low and tense. “What did you notice about me.”

“Honesty, I don’t remember.” You sigh, a little guilt eating at your heart and gut when Ben’s frown deepens. “I was a little, um, out of it. I didn’t really think I’d like you all that much, let alone, uh, love you.”

You swallow, because even though Ben knows you love him now, this feels strange to say. Like you’re mostly rolling your eyes at your past self, who had truly believed she’d be able to wake up Soldier Boy, keep him in line with powers she could barely control, live with him in a mutual contempt, and leave him without a second thought at the end. She had been a real fucking idiot, because you’re never going to leave Ben. He’ll have to peel you off of him and snap your heart in two, and even then you might try to crawl after him and beg him to change his mind.

But that’s another reason why you love him. Ben wouldn’t ever hurt you, let alone like that. He’ll keep you against him and hold you carefully and reverently for the rest of time, and if you fell to your knees and begged him to stay with you, he’d pick you up, kiss you, and call you fucking stupid for thinking he’d ever leave you.

Right now, though, he’s just nodding with almost a pout on his face, and you can feel the soreness inside him grow.

“But,” you push forward, offering him a soft smile that you mean with all your heart, which belongs to Ben. “I think I know when I started loving you.”

Ben glances at you again, almost wearily. “You said that didn’t matter to you.”

“It doesn’t,” you shrug. “I feel like I’ve loved you forever, and that’s all I care about. But if you want to know-“

He gives a quick grunt of affirmation, the soreness pounding and clenching over him—growing slightly electric, almost wild—and you take a long breath.

“The club. That we went to with the team. I, um, I liked being near you, and I didn’t want to stop being near you.” The soreness starts to ease away, but Ben’s grip on the wheel is white-knuckled, and your body is still sore and tensed, so you continue. “Just the, um, just the thought of you calmed me down. And you looked really handsome, and I liked when you laughed and smiled at me, and holding your hand felt good. I didn’t ever want to stop holding your hand, and that was scary, but not because of you, because I’ve never been scared of you, just because I didn’t want to leave you, and I’d never felt that before, I didn’t think I’d ever feel it at all, after Homelander, and I think that’s why I didn’t immediately realize I loved you, because I’d never been in love like this before. I mean, it was really confusing, because my job was to make sure you didn’t go rogue, but I was mostly just thinking about you and boob-drugs-“

Ben cuts off your rambling with a scowl. “Why the fuck were you thinking about boob-drugs.”

“You liked her,” you mumble, burying your face in his arm. “And I didn’t want to care, but I did-“

“I didn’t like her.”

You shake your head against him. “You don’t have to lie, Ben-“ 

“I don’t fucking lie to you,” he snaps, and you chance at look up at him. Still golden in the light of the sunset, impossibly handsome with an almost confused scowl and deep words you can feel in your chest. “She was an annoying bitch, I didn’t give a fuck about her.”

“But you were, um,” you force the words out, chewing on your tongue. “You were hungry.”

“What-“ 

“For her. I could feel your hunger for her, and it’s your lust-“ 

“That was for you, smartass.”

The whole world because blurred and sharp all at once—like it does when you’re under Ben, with some part of him inside you and getting you high on just his touch and smell and feel—and you realize Ben is better than an angel, because he’s yours. This stubborn, grumpy, impossible man is all yours, and you can feel his love hot and focused in your chest.

“Oh.”

Ben snorts slightly, and you can feel an airy, smug disbelief in his head. “Have you seriously been thinking I was trying to fuck Boob-Drugs this whole time-“

“Fuck you-“

“I wanted to.” Ben grins, and the soreness is obliterated by a swelling, hot and bright feeling in his chest and spine. “I wanted to pick you up and fuck you on that table, Sunshine. You were the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, you are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, and I’m never going want to fuck anyone but you again.” He turns his head, eyes still on the road, and kisses your brow. “I told you my dick is yours, darling, and it has been for a damn long while. I love you, not some fucking coke whore in a club.”

A smile tugs at your lips, and you press your head back into his body, moving one hand to tangle in his. I love you too. And if it helps, my pussy is yours.

Ben chuckles, and it rolls through your body, leaving everything soft and calm in its wake. Good.

You nod, a little stupidly, and start to wonder if Ben asking you to marry him hadn’t just been a half-dream created by all your love for him that lived with your head. That it hadn’t just been a wishful haze born from the smell of pine and taste of salt, or the feel of warm safety around you and constant loop of Ben, Ben, Ben that was everything good. If the deep words you’d felt in your bones weren’t just created by your cock-drunk, Ben-drunk brain.

You don’t get to ask, though, because Ben’s pulling into the rest stop and demanding your order before repeating it in rough words to the drive-thru speaker. You put on your sunglasses, just for safety, and Ben leans his body forward to half-block any view of you from the cashier and serving windows.

From there, the rest of the drive is impossibly easy. Things with Ben are always easy, but you know that he’s working harder than usual to keep it that way. He lets you put on music to cover the rumble of the engine, and gives you pointed glares when your food starts to be forgotten in your hands. He’s indulging in your every rant about nothing, pulling you out of any spiraling thoughts of three hours to Boston, three hours until you’re either one step closer to killing Homelander or dead in the water with such skill that you’re starting to wonder if he’s studied for this. If Ben’s trained himself to keep your head clear, and your smile on your face instead of fading into the haunting thoughts of soon. Soon you may have to fight-

“Ryan told me you got him a bunch of fucking books.”

You nod, and your smile spreads a little wider, a little more naturally. “I did. He read all of Butcher’s.”

“Butcher reads?”

“Allegedly, yes.”

Ben snorts. “That pussy doesn’t have the damn patience-“

“Benjamin, my love, you don’t have the patience. You have the attention span of a toddler.”

“Shut the fuck up,” he grumbles, but every inch of annoyance on his face is fake, because you can feel all his affection and care in your body. Warm and innate and permanent. “I am not a toddler-“

“No,” you hum, giving him a sweet, teasing smile. “But you are a massive fucking man baby. My massive fucking man baby, who I love very much and takes very good care of me.”

He rolls his eyes, and the glow moves up his spine. “Brat.”

“Cunt. Do you think Ryan’s okay?”

Ben’s frown deepens. “Of course he’s okay, he’s got us. The kid has finally started to fly and laser at the same time, and you’re real fucking kind to him when he gets all sad about his pussy-fuck father-“ 

“I mean with everyone away.” You cut Ben off with a sigh, even as his words make the world around you soft and vivid and lined with a light you never want to lose. “This is all hands, and he’s all by himself-“

“He’s strong.” Ben squeezes his hand in yours, voice firm and everything in him made of an unwavering, concrete care. “He’s a smart kid, who’s gotten through a fuck ton more than one day alone. We’ll be home soon, and you can fuss all over him-“

“I do not fuss-“

Ben chuckles, shaking his head as a flash of amusement runs between your bodies. “You fuss all the damn time. Christ, you fuss over me,” he grins down at you as he says your name, and it makes everything in you a little electric. “But you’re a fuck ton meaner about it.”

“Well Ryan’s nicer to me,” you stick your tongue out at him. “And you’re an asshole.”

“But you still fucking fuss.” Ben winks at you, pulling your hand up to kiss your knuckles. “Because you love me.”

“I do love you,” you mutter. ”But I don’t fuss. You fuss.”

“The fuck I do-“

“You always make me eat.” You lean forwards, kissing his jaw. “And you make sure Ryan’s doing well in school, And you never let us push ourselves, and you’re always making sure we’re okay, and you love us-“

“Whatever.” Ben grumbles, glaring at the lamp-lit road, and you giggle.

“Grumpy-“

“Shut the fuck up.” He rolls his eyes, frown twitching as you lean into his side. “You’re lucky I love you-“

“I know.” You turn your face to nuzzle into his shoulder, ensuring that every breath is Ben. Pine and salt and gunpowder and Ben. “I really am.”

The glow returns in a full, brutal force, and it’s like a sedative. The world starts to blur in a way that you don’t want to hide or run from, and Ben is muttering low words that you can’t hear but still feel in your body. Soothing your head and easing you into a molten warmth that’s just too good to fight. Your eyes start to droop, and just before everything turns into a dark, simple daze of sleep, you feel a big, rough, warm hand brush hair from your face, and rumble of words that you don’t fully understand but, still make you know that everything is right here. That voice is Ben’s—everything around you is Ben—and he loves you, and nothing bad can really happen as long as that’s true.

And it will always be true, and that knowledge pulls you all the way under, into dreams of sunlight and green and something perfect that’s just out of reach, but still yours. Still everything, and made of love so strong you feel it a little beyond your body.

It’s all you feel until a finger you recognize as everything good brushes over your lip, and you drag your eyes open to find Ben watching you. His gaze is attentive and devout, and when you smile at him everything becomes ardor and a zealous wrath of love in your chest. Feral and watchful and protective, in a perfect time with the song in your head of Ben. The night is dark, but you can still see light everywhere because Ben.

You know you’ve arrived—there are horns blaring in the distance, and you can smell the pungent, briny ocean of the Boston docks—but you’re still breathing without thought because Ben is here, and you can fucking do this.

You’re okay.

I’m okay. You take a heavy breath, grounding yourself in Ben’s solid, strong body against yours—fingers holding your chin with a firm, gentle touch, an arm wrapped over your shoulders with a hand rubbing patterns in your skin—and his determined, concrete feeling of care. Are we ready?

Whenever you are.

You nod, peeling yourself away from where you’d slump and molded into Ben’s hold, but lean back to give him one, soft kiss on the cheek. I love you.

I love you too, he mutters in your head, tangling at hand in your hair and gently moving your mouth to his. We’ve fucking got this.

You hum into Ben’s kiss, holding his face between your hand, keeping his brow against yours when you separate for breath. We’ve got this. 

Ben had parked right next to the limo, so you shed your jacket and sunglasses before climbing out, replacing them with a black hoodie that will hopefully lend you some stealth, and follow Ben out of the car.

When you knock of the driver’s window, it rolls down to reveal a scowling Butcher, his arm hanging out the window as he looks over you and Ben with contempt.

“It’s nine fucking thirty.”

“Congratulation on being able to read a clock, asscuck-“

“We said eight forty-five.” Butcher cut off Ben with a snapping hiss “You horny fuckin twats are late. Again.”

“These roads are fucking dogshit.” Ben shrugs, holding Butcher’s glare with an indifference. “Let us in the damn limo so we can get this over with.”

Butcher lets out a huff of annoyance, stands out of the driver’s seat, opens the back doors, and lets you and Ben climb in before following and locking the door behind him.

“You’re late-“

“Someone wouldn’t let me drive,” you give MM an apologetic look as Ben pulls you half onto his lap. “We’d have been here two hours early if he did-“

“I don’t let you drive,” Ben drawls. “Because you’re a fucking criminal behind the wheel.”

“No, I’m not-“

“You are, Sunshine. Christ, Hughie and Kimiko have seen it,” Ben turns to them, brows raised. “She’s a fucking menace when she drives, isn’t she.”

Kimiko just signs I don’t care, it’s fun, but Hughie’s eyes widen, his facing turning red.

“I, um, I’ve only seen it once, and it was kind of an intense day-“ Hughie’s stutters are cut off by Annie, placing a hand on his shoulder and glaring at Ben.

“Don’t do that to him, Ben. He’ll have a panic attack about picking a side and we’ll have to wait until he calms down.”

Everyone freezes, and you know it’s not just you that heard it.

“Did you,” MM clears his throat, eyes narrowing at Annie with a frown. “You called him-“

“C’mon guys.” Annie gives a flat look around the dead quiet limo. “I mean, he’s clearly here for the long term, and it’s been getting weird to call him Soldier Boy when I talk to you,” Annie nods in your direction, saying your name with a bored tone. “About how much you love him and how good his dick is.”

Your whole face flushes as Butcher lets out a sputtering cough, Frenchie gives Ben a nod of respect, and MM’s gape almost unhinges his jaw.

Ben himself isn’t at all helpful, kissing the top of your head and wrapped in a smug, blazing feeling of energy that—when you lean back to glare at him—makes him look almost boyish. He’s looking down at you, nothing but want and love and adoration in his eyes, and you almost whimper at how effectively he’s pulling you apart under his gaze. He looks so happy—even with the mission only one strict reminder to remain on track away—and nobody’s but Ben has ever looked at you like that before. Like he’s proud just to be at your side, as if you’ve given him something just by loving him. You think you have, because his grin is so wide and handsome and cocky, and his words in you are so certain you can feel it settle in your veins and nerves.

Christ, you must really love me if you’ve got Annie calling me my damn name-

Fuck you, Benjamin-

You want to. You fucking love me. He squeezes his arms around you, eyes dancing with cocky, comfortable light. You really damn love me.

You know I love you, you asshole. Shut up. 

No. I’m allowed to brag about my woman loving me as much as I goddamn want-

MM let out a long, half-groaning sigh, shaking his head and rubbing his jaw. “You know what, we don’t got the time for this. Let’s do this shit, and then Soldier Boy can be Ben to you motherfuckers all he wants, as long as I never have to hear about his dick again. Hughie-“

“The warehouse should be clear, I didn’t see anyone on their cams.” Hughie glances at Annie, who’d dropped her hand from his shoulder to rest over his own. “Annie, can you-“

“I can fry them.” Annie frowns into the air. “But I don’t know if I’ll be able to only fry the cams, I might take out the lights too-“

“We got that fuckin covered, Starlight, don’t worry your blonde little head.“ Butcher nods to Frenchie, who pulls a bag out from under his seat.

“I have made them solar powered,” Frenchie pulls a flashlight, displaying it for the whole team to see. “And left them in the sun for several hours. Should we be plunged into the darkness,” he makes a dramatic gesture, grinning around the limo. “There will be light.”

Annie leans backward with a relieved expression, and you tap your fingers on Ben’s forearm as you speak.

“We all know what we’re looking for?”

MM nods. “If those papers were up to date, six to seven crates label RRD.”

“Red River Donations,” Butcher mutters. “Bloody cunts not even tryin to hide it.”

You swallow, pushing on. “And the plan? Everyone got that?”

“In and out, Madame.” Frenchie says your name with a solemn tone, chest puffed. “No messes, no trail, no fuckery.”

“No fuckery.” You nod, chewing on your cheek until you taste metal. “No evidence. Annie, if you can, try to fry out a few of the other warehouses, so it looks like a circuit blew. And no matter what, we’re just getting the V.” You give Butcher a firm glare. “Got it?”

“I’m all fuckin in, Love.” Butcher gives you a sarcastic—but not crude or mocking—grin. “Like Frenchie said, in and out, and all you cunts can be home to jerk each other off by midnight.”

You flip him off, and look back to the rest of the group. “MM, you’ve got-”

“Groupings, after we all get armed. Look alive motherfuckers, here we go.”

“Here we go.” You echo, looking around this limo with a tight, close-lipped smile that hurts your face. “Make it quick, stick together, and no fuckery.”

Everyone makes various sounds of agreement, shuffling out of the limo in silence. Ben keeps his arm around you as you separate from the group—weapons being passed out and Butcher lecturing Hughie about how to drive a limo, and to not throw a fuckin raver while we’re gone, Lad—so you lean into his body, forcing your breathing to stay in time with his.

I’m sticking with you, Ben grunts, popping Butcher’s trunk to grab his guns and shield. And if MM tries to pair me off with someone else- 

He won’t. You’re stuck with me, Pretty Boy. Get used to it. You watch Ben’s stoic expression carefully, reaching up a hand to trace over the deep lines on his face. When he looks down at you—all his concern and care like armor over your skin—something softens in his eyes.

Good. Ben leans down, kissing the space between your eyes. I like being stuck with you. Even when you’re a fucking brat.

I like being stuck with you too, cunt. You wrap your arms around torso, burying your head in his chest and just breathing in Ben. Pine and gunpowder and Ben. Strong and certain and yours, holding you until you rest your chin on his chest, studying his narrowed, concerned frown you can feel all over your skin and like lead in your heart. If there’s no V-

There will be. His voice is almost stern grunt in your head, and his brow drops to yours. We’ve fucking got this.

You nod, and stay here—with Ben—until it’s not an option anymore. Until holding his face between your hands and sharing his breath doesn’t fully stop your brain and heart from racing, but solidifies the instinct of Ben just a little bit more. It’s already carved into you, already permanent, but it keeps growing stronger. Keeps finding its way into deeper parts of you that might have just not existed before, but are now pulling open for Ben to have. And finding a new place for Ben to be a part of you—this one somewhere across your skin, bitten by the chill of ocean wind and beginning to come down, down, down into something green and warm—will have to be enough.

You and Ben return to the group—one of his arms over your shoulders, and the other holding his shield at his side—and you take in how everyone but seemingly you and Annie is armed. Even Hughie has a gun, even if he keeps glancing at it like it might try to run away from him. But you don’t think Annie knows how to shoot, and you don’t need a gun. The fire is all yours under your skin, and Ben’s at your side, so you’ll be fine. The night air is wired and suffocating, and every distant city noise sets off a cold flare in your body, but you’ll be fine.

“We’re splitting in half,” MM grunts. “Two supes per team, Hughie holding down the fort. I’ve got Annie, Kimiko, and Frenchie.” MM says your name with a short nod, and something lights up over your bones when you realize you’re in charge of group two. “Is taking Soldier Boy and Butcher. And if anyone tries to fight me on this shit, I’ll shoot them, so don’t fucking test me.”

Butcher glowers, slowly closing his mouth with an eye roll, and you look up at the blue-tinted sky, not a star in sight.

“Annie, can you-“

The words barely leave your mouth before the world starts to fry, crackling and sparking around you. For a second, everything is blinding light, scorching into your eyes and lingering for a painful second before you’re able to see the dark harbor and warehouse, visible in the distant lights of the city and sky.

You got lucky. Your eyes healed within half a second, but most everyone else is still rubbing and blinking, and Annie’s looking around the half-blinded group with a guilty expression.

“Oh, shit, I’m so sorry guys-“ 

“They’ll be fine,” Ben snaps, face slightly scrunched as his own eyes recover. “A little light isn’t going to goddamn kill the pussies, Annie, don’t fucking whine.”

Annie nods slowly with a little less shame in her eyes, Kimiko places a reassuring hand on her arm, and you bump Ben’s shoulder with yours.

That was very sweet of you, Benjamin, my love-

Shut the fuck up. Ben grumbles your name between your heads, raising you a little off the ground as he kisses the side of your head. Feeling guilty is only going to slow us down-

You twist your head, moving Ben’s mouth to yours for a simple, easy, gentle kiss. I know. But you still made her feel better. So thank you.

He just grunts—deepening the kiss until his tongue is tracing over your teeth and his hand his kneading at your skin—and you let out a soft, airy sigh. You can fucking do this, and then your whole life will get to be moments like this. Where Ben’s glaring at you, but you know he doesn’t mean it because you can feel him wrathful and fond and rough, rolling around in your chest and humming with an affection and love that’s more real and tangible than anything else in the world.

You can do this.

Kimiko and Ben open the doors of the warehouse—blackened and filled with cold, drafting winds—as Frenchie passes out the flashlights and Butcher stomps to your side, a scowl on his face you can feel searing into you.

“I got somethin you need to answer, Love.” He mutters, and you drag your gaze from Ben to meet his eyes.

“Butcher, we don’t have time-“

“Edgar.” He hisses, glare narrowed and firm. “You and the simpin cunt better have gotten some answers for me-“

You give Butcher an amused look. “Did you just say simping-“

“Love, I’ll call that puppy dog of yours whatever the bloody hell I want. Tell me what Edgar told you.”

Ben-

I know. I can hear. What the fuck is a simping-

I’ll tell you later. I’m going to tell Butcher about the Cornucopia, but not the extra V. I need you to back me up on what-

I always back you up, Sunshine, don’t be fucking stupid.

Your face flushes slightly as you return your attention to Butcher, and you have to fight the small smile tugging at your lips from how annoyed Ben sounded at the very idea that he’d ever stand against you.

“We’ve got to move,” you tell Butcher, flexing your fingers slightly. “I’ll tell you while we look.”

Butcher’s jaw twitches, but he nods. “Fine. Let’s get this shit over and fucked out.”

Ben returns to you—and now Butcher, both men glaring at each other like if they stop their dicks will fall off—and you look over to MM’s team with a tense, grim smile.

“If you find it first, get it back to Hughie and have Annie send out a signal. If we get it first, I’ll send the signal. Annie-“ 

“Long flash for regrouping, short for,” Annie swallows. “Emergencies.”

“Okay, good.” You look into the seemingly infinite darkness of the warehouse, chewing on your lower lip as you speak. “We’ll take left, you guys take right. No wandering, and don’t be stupid.”

MM nods. “Good luck, motherfuckers. See you on the other side.”

They go in first, Annie’s hand lit up and everyone else holding guns and flashlights. For a second the daunting, long shelves and halls of the warehouse are illuminated, and when they’re cast in shadows that fade back to pitch black once more, you light a small fire in your palm and take a long breath.

“Shelf by shelf.” You don’t bother to look at Ben or Butcher as you speak, because Ben always listens and Butcher’s a dick, but not an idiot. “Try and be subtle, and keep each other’s backs. Ready?”

You hear two low grunts, and roll your eyes.

“Can I get a verbal affirmation, testosterone representatives?”

“Stop wastin time, Love, and just bloody go-“

“Don’t fucking talk to her like that.” Ben sneers, and you turn to glare at them both.

“Rules.” You snap, eyes narrowing and the fire in your hand growing a little brighter, feeling a little more inlaid and pure in your body. “Benjamin, you’re the love of my life and I adore you, but if you spend the whole time pissing off Butcher you lose blowjob privileges for a month, and you’re sleeping on the couch tonight.”

“In the doghouse Gov, tough fuckin luck-“

“And you.” You turn your glare to Butcher, and he falls silent with eyes wider than you’ve seen them before. “If you antagonize him, I’ll kill you myself. Got it?”

You get a crude, huffed agreement from Butcher and take it, turning back to the warehouse.

“Let’s do this.”

For the first five rows, you search in silence. Ben and Butcher keep their guns raised—the former directly at your side and the latter a pace behind—and you realize that Butcher’s shock and compliance hadn’t just been from your words. Your fingertips are wrapped in a white flame that casts long shadows on the floors and walls when you move, and when you turn to look at Ben around the end of shelf four, he’s watching you with an awe.

Fucking Christ, Sunshine.

You frown at him. What?

Your eyes. They’re burning.

They don’t feel like they’re burning. Your vision is clear, and your fire is controlled like an extended muscle as the ghost-like flames light the warehouse, so you shake your head slightly. No, they’re not-

The fuck they’re not. “Butcher.” Ben grunts, his eyes still on yours, hitting something deep in your body and unraveling it with a care you feel along your spine. “What do her eyes look like.”

Butcher glances at you and scoffs. “The fuck am I supposed to say, fire? She got fire-eyes?”

Ben gives you a pointed, smug look, and you wrinkle your nose at him. “Shut up.”

“Looks hot.” Ben shrugs, winking at you. “I wouldn’t be mad if you broke that out later.” He pauses, then adds. “For sex.“

You snort. “Yeah, I got that part by myself, Pretty Boy-“

“Can you twats not eye-fuck each other right in front of me?” Butcher sneers, poking at a crate with his gun, glaring at it like the box is personally responsible for you and Ben. “I ain’t a prude, but it’s bloody disgusting, keep it in your fuckin brain connection shit-“

“The Ben’o’phone.” You nod, not bothering to fight your smile at Ben’s adorable, grumpy glare.

“We agreed not to fucking call it that-“

“I didn’t agree to anything, Benjamin, my love. And you haven’t pitched anything else-“

“I’m not pitching fucking shit, but I’ll eat Butcher’s ass before I call it that-“ 

“Come near my ass, Gov, and I’ll fuckin shoot you.” Butcher grunts, his glare turning back to you. “And you still need to get real bloody specific about Edgar-“

“The debt is cleared.” You cut Butcher off with short, well-chosen words. “Edgar is, hopefully, not our issue anymore.”

“And the Cornucopia-“

“He,” you sigh, bracing yourself for Butcher’s reaction. “He gave it to me.”

Butcher freezes, looking you up and down with a taut, deep glare. “The fuck are you talkin about. The bloody tits were the keys ever for-”

“A villa in Rome.” Your fingers start to tap on nothing, and you keep your voice neutral and even as you continue. “It was Fredrick Vought’s, then Edgar’s, and now, apparently, it’s mine.”

“In Rome.” Butcher repeats, shaking his head slightly. “Dr. Vought had a villa in Rome and Edgar is just handin it to you? Nah, Love, that ain’t trackin-“

“Well, it’s the truth.” You snap. “I don’t understand it either, but it’s all we’ve got to go on. Now can we please keep moving-“

Suddenly, Ben goes rigid. Standing slightly taller, looking around the shelves with an almost feral attention you can feel raging in your chest, wrapping over your lungs.

Ben-

You hear the click of Ben’s gun, and he takes one stride to stand in front of you, the barrel pointed in the direction of the warehouse entrance. Stay quiet.

Benjamin, what’s-

“The fuckin hell is wrong with you-“

Ben cuts Butcher off with a hiss. “Shut the fuck up, you pussy. We’re not alone.”

Your blood goes cold, a chill hitting your body that makes everything suddenly far too taut and electric around you. “Ben,” you whisper. “How many.”

“One.” He grunts, taking a half-step back so he can glance at you. His jaw is clenched, voice low. “Fast heart. Not Homelander.”

The world stops blurring, but you’re still on edge. Nobody should know you’re here, and if a single person catches you, this whole thing could blow. “Who-“

“William!” A cool, angry voice echoes through the warehouse. “I know you and the Boys are here. Are you a fucking idiot?”

All three of you become rooted in place as you recognize the owner of the shout, sharing wide-eyed expression of shock.

“What the fuck is Mallory doing here,” you whisper, words pushed through your teeth. “How did she even know-“

“This is remarkably risky and stupid, even for you dumbasses.” Mallory continues yelling, and you see Ben’s grip on the gun become white. “Stealing government property is a felony, and I can’t let you-“

Butcher hisses your name, nodding to your still burning fingers. “You have to turn the nightlight off, right fuckin now-“

You nod, squeezing your eyes shut and trying to pull the fire back under your skin, but it keeps itching and scraping its way back out as Mallory’s words ring through the warehouse.

“I know you’re here, and unless you want to fucking abandon Campbell for me to arrest-“

“Hughie!” That’s Annie’s voice, and it’s frantic, in a sizzling time with the wires above your head. “Mallory, this isn’t his fault-“

“I don’t care whose fault it is, I need you all to come out so we can talk like adults and not petulant children!”

You feel Ben’s body press slightly into yours, and open your eyes to see him watching you. They’re moving. What’s our play.

I don’t know. You shake your head, your nails digging into your skin as you try to pull the fire back down. Ben, how did she know we’re here. Who else-

Someone’s calling your name, and the fire flares up your arm. It’s a nervous, softer voice, and it’s Ryan’s.

Your name echoes around you once more, and then, “Ben? Butcher? Aunt Grace said you’re in trouble, I want to help-“

You start running to the entrance of the warehouse, the ringing in your ears only just quiet enough to still hear Ben and Butcher barely steps behind you.

“Ryan!” You’re half-screaming, not caring that Mallory can hear you. “Where are you?!”

Ben overtakes you in a second, his voice in your head urgent and low. Front entrance-

You don’t bother to listen to the rest, breaking into a full-on sprint until you can see the break of the skyline, dark over the ocean, and seven silhouettes in the door. You skid to a stop—Ben catching your arm to prevent a stumbling fall—and take in MM, Annie, Kimiko, and Frenchie in tight stances off to the side, Hughie with a sheepish, anxious expression trying to slowly inch closer to Annie, Ryan a pace outside the warehouse, and Mallory at his side, gun raised and aimed right at your head.

“Don’t move,” Mallory warns, the gun clicking. “I will shoot.”

You feel Ben’s hand tighten on your arm to an almost bruising grip, his own wrath moving the earth under your feet, but your fury is hotter and brighter, zealous and unforgiving as you narrow your eyes at Mallory.

“What the fuck did you do,” you hiss, flattening a palm on Ben’s chest in a silent signal not to move. “Did you bring Ryan-“

Mallory scoffs. “Of course I didn’t bring Ryan, he must have followed me-“

“I wanted to help,” Ryan whispers, his whole face pale, his body curling into itself slightly. “I’m getting stronger, I can help-“

“Ryan, this ain’t something for you to do.” Butcher grunts, taking one, slow step closer to the entrance. “And you, Grace, are you out of your bloody mind? Tellin the kid we’re in danger just to fuckin one-up us-“

“I am doing my job.” Mallory snaps, re-aiming the gun at Butcher. “You are disobeying direct orders from the president-“

“That order was wrong, Grace.” MM mutters. “And you know it-“

Mallory sighs. “This isn’t the time for that, Marvin. We can’t afford to lose sight of order right now, and you are still CIA employees-“

“We’re not.” Ben grunts, rising to his full height as he glowers at Mallory. “You don’t fucking pay us. We can do whatever to goddamn hell we to get the job done-“

“Soldier Boy,” Mallory warns. “I’d advise you remember the conditions of your deal-“

Ben snorts, raising his own gun. “Fuck your deal. Ryan, get inside.”

“Ryan, don’t move.” Mallory holds Ben’s glare, her gun moving to not him, but you. “You’re all going to come peacefully, or I’ll shoot-“

It’s your turn to laugh. A dry cackle that you hate the sound of, because it’s fueled by something hateful and cruel. “Go ahead. I’ll live and you have to know that he’ll,” you tilt your head to Ben. “Kill you. Immediately.”

“You’re not the type to make threats,” Mallory says your name, even as her gaze flits to Ben. “And you overestimate your importance to this operation-“

“Do I?” You shrug. “I don’t think I do. I think you’d be fucked without me. Without Ben. Ryan,” you look past Mallory, your heart straining and turning over at the pure fear on Ryan’s face. “Please come here, it’s not safe to stay outside right now, this is dangerous-“

“He’s a supe.” Mallory snaps, and Ryan starts to lean forward, like he wants to run but can’t. “He’ll be fine-“

“He shouldn’t have to be.” You stretch out a hand to Ryan, the fire starting to dim. “Ryan, I know you want to help, but this isn’t the place. We’re not in danger now, but we can’t risk lingering here. Please-“

Ryan takes a tentative step forward, and Mallory’s face twists into a sneer in your direction.

“You are not his guardian,” she says your name, taking a side-step to block Ryan’s path. “Neither you nor Solider Boy have any claim to him-“

“He’s my fucking grandson-“

Mallory cut’s Ben off with a scoff. “Who you tried to kill-“

“You ain’t better, Grace.” Butcher mutters, and you realize his own gun has risen back up, aimed right a Mallory’s chest. “You’d use the kid as a fuckin weapon against his psycho cunt father-“

“Homelander?” Ryan whispers, watching Mallory with a slack, almost tragic expression. “You want me to, to fight my dad-“

“You’re stronger,” Mallory snaps, her voice flat, words spoken as if they’re inherent. As if it’s obvious that Ryan must fight Homelander. “You’d kill him, and we wouldn’t have to waste time with the V-“

“But the V would work, right? Ben said it would work-“

“Soldier Boy,” Mallory shoots Ben a daggered glare. “Has lost sight of the mission. You are our best bet, Ryan, as the Anomaly has failed to stand against Homelander.”

Annie’s mouth falls open, and you feel relief flash through you as you realize Hughie has made it back to her side. “It’s not her fucking job to fight her rapist, Mallory-“

“If it isn’t,” Mallory’s gaze returns to you, and you feel something start to bubble over between your joint and in your muscles. “Then the responsibility falls to Ryan.”

“I, I don’t want to fight him.” Ryan stutters. “I’m sorry, I don’t, I know what he’s done, but I can’t-“

“You won’t.” Ben snaps, jerking his head in your direction. “Go to her, Ryan.” There’s a pause, long and heavy in your lungs, and then Ben grunts, “please,” and it dissipates as Ryan starts to move.

“Ryan-“

“I don’t want to fight, Aunt Grace,” Ryan mumbles, walking slowly past Mallory. “I just want to help, without anyone else getting, getting hurt because of me.“

Ryan reaches your side, and the flames waver almost instantly into smoke as he wraps a hand around your arm, clinging to you like he might drift away if he doesn’t. Almost on instinct you pull him a little closer, wrapping him in a hug as Ben shifts his body to fully block you and Ryan from Mallory’s gaze.

“Soldier Boy, watch yourself. I will not hesitate to return you to the box.”

Your hands tense slightly on Ryan’s head, and you try to keep your breathing steady for his sake as you hear Ben’s drums, watch the muscles of his back tense at the words.

“Walk away, Grace.” MM grunts, and from the corner of your eye you see his gun raise as well, and hear Mallory’s noise of disbelief. “We’re going to take the V, take Ryan, and leave. You’ll see us again when the dust settles, but I’d advise you take a leave of absence right fucking now.”

“Marvin, have you forgotten that this asshole killed your family-“

“No.” MM’s words are certain, resolved and flat. “I haven’t. But I’m practicing some motherfucking forgiveness, and no matter what I’m not letting you put the kid in the line of fire. Last warning. Leave.”

There’s sounds of shifting, and when you glance around you realize that everyone has raised their weapons. All aimed at Mallory, all paired with solemn, grave expressions as they move like a wall in front of you and Ryan. At Ben’s side.

And—between the space of Ben and Butcher’s bodies—you see Mallory lower her gun with a thin lipped, cold glare. 

And you smell coconut.

And something is wrong.

Ben-

You hear him first. Behind you, with stiff steps and humming an off-key, patriotic tune. And when you whirl around—keeping Ryan steady against your body, his face hidden from full view—your veins bite with frost, and something broken wails and twists in your gut.

“Well, well, well.” Homelander’s smiling is wide, all white teeth, made of a rage that’s in every tense muscle on his face, and there’s a glint of something like poison in his eyes. “What a lovely coincidence to run into all you here!” His eyes scan over your group, and you don’t have to look back to know they’ve all frozen. You can feel Ben’s eyes looking between you and Homelander, hear the drums drawing closer as that part of him inside you begins to riot and bang on your ribcage.

Ben grunts your name in your head, and you realize you’ve started to lean back. Closer to him, further from Homelander. You need to get behind me right fucking now-

I can’t. Your breathing is forced, in and out of your body as you try to stifle the horrible, artificial, sickly smell of Homelander. Try to pretend he’s not close enough that you can see the slight wrinkles on his suit. If I move, he’ll move.

“It really is all of you, isn’t it?” Homelander sounds delighted, and you feel sick. Cold and vile, suffocating and unable to draw in any new air. “The whole gang is here! Oh, this is too good, we can be done in ten minutes tops!“

“How the fuck did you get here, Homelander.” Annie hisses. “How did you find us-“

“I followed Ryan, of course.” Homelander’s turns back to you, his smile growing manic, and you hold Ryan a little closer. “Good flying, son, but let’s work on getting a little higher up in the air next time, huh? Don’t want satellites to track you again.”

He laughs—continuing to taunt Annie with words you don’t hear—and Ryan looks up at you with a panic in his eyes you feel scratching at your skin and heart, making everything too sharp and bright, filling the world with a terror that lives in Ryan’s chest.

“I didn’t mean to,” Ryan whispers your name, and his voice pleading. “I didn’t mean to, I promise, I just wanted to help-“

“I know you did.” You run a hand over his brow, forcing your voice to be soothing as your eyes darting between every rise and fall of Homelander’s chest and Ryan’s pallid features. “It’s okay. I’m not mad.”

“I, I’m sorry-“

“I know.” You repeat, swallowing down a bile in your throat that’s made of either Ryan’s fear or yours. It’s hard to really tell the difference. “You’re going to be okay, Ryan, I promise.”

There is no guarantee you can keep that promise. But you will do everything in your fucking power to make sure Ryan gets out of this, and you know Ben—alive inside you, alert and wrathful behind you—will do the same.

Then Homelander says your name, you have to meet his eyes. You have to keep Ryan against you, and try not to just scream as blue, cold, hateful and evil eyes carve into your head, violating and invasive and wrong.

“Thank you, honey, for getting Ryan for me. Come here. Now.”

“I,” you take a long breath, and a shaking half step back. “No. You’re not touching him.”

“Fine, you can hold him.” Homelander rolls his eyes, extending a red-gloved hand. “I mean, I’m glad you’re finally getting into that mother bond shit, but he’s still my son. I’ll want him back eventually, and we’ll get you another one once this is all just a funny story to tell our it.”

“No.” Your voice is a little louder this time, and the cracks over your head and heart are starting to leak something like venom into your teeth, spitting with every word. “You’re not touching either of us. Ever.”

Homelander’s eyes narrow. “Are you still throwing this temper tantrum? I got it the first time,” he snaps your name, and you can feel Ben roar inside of you. “I’ll let you outside more, and you can do, let’s call it 50% less TV appearances. But I can’t kill these fucking idiots until you’re over here, and this is a family affair, so let’s get this over with and we’ll talk about it more at home-“

“They ain’t goin anywhere with you, cunt.” Butcher snaps, and you see his move forward in your periphery. “And you don’t got a family. You’re just a sorry, lonely fuckin murderer who don’t got no one.”

Homelander’s jaw twitches. “That’s cruel William. And wrong.I have my son, with your lovely wife, may she rest in peace, and my fiancée and I-“

“She is not your fucking fiancée,” Ben growls, and you can feel him move a little closer. “She’s not your anything.”

“What, do you think she’s yours, Soldier Boy?” Homelander sneers. “She’s using you to get back at me! She’s a lying, manipulative bitch-“

“Shut your pussy fucking mouth.” He’s another step closer, and you risk another inch back. “Don’t ever fucking speak about my wi-“

“Your what.” Homelander clicks his tongue, looking between you and Ben with disgust. “Your whore? Did she turn around spread her fucking legs for you, again? Are you so pathetic that you’d pick up your son’s scrappy seconds-��

“I am not yours.” You whisper, leaning back a little further, until you can feel the warmth from Ben’s body. Kindling something inside you that makes you raise your chin, holding Homelander’s glare. “And Ben isn’t pathetic. At the very least, he’s never had to make me do anything.”

Homelander’s eyes flash, his neck flexing spits his words through teeth. “This isn’t cute anymore,” he sneers your name, and you have to force a long breath so that smoke doesn’t curl from your hands. “We’re going home, and all will be forgiven. Fucking my father, being weak and letting these rats manipulate you, every childish stunt you’ve pulled to try and hurt me when I love you. It will all be behind us, if you come home now.”

“No-“

He shouts your name, and you flinch. “I have.” Homelander’s head jerks, and he lets out a long, harsh exhale. “I have done everything right for you. I have loved you, turned you into a god, ensured that our marriage will be fruitful by asking your mother for fucking permission to marry you! We could be fucking Olympians. I could be a king, and you could be my queen, and we could fill the fucking world with children like Ryan! Stronger! You could be Madonna, the world will remember and worship you for a million years-“

“They’ll remember me for this.” You whisper, making sure your grip on Ryan is firm, your body wrapped over his. When you run, you aren’t going to drop him. “For killing you.”

“Well,” Homelander’s mouth draws into a sour, scoffing line. “If that’s what this is about, here you go.”

Homelander’s eyes glow red, and you realize what’s going to happen a second before it does. Your mouth falls open—maybe to bargain, maybe to beg, maybe to scream—just as Homelander turns, and lasers right through the warehouse. Shelves crashing down, boxes breaking open, a fire setting off deep, deep in the falling building and starting to spread before Homelander’s even moved back to face you.

“There.” He spreads his arms wide, half-gesturing to the wreckage behind him. “No more V. No killing me. Now stop playing these childish, annoying fucking games and come here.”

You’re frozen. You can feel Ben rolling and bellowing inside you, just a slight falling movement away from you crashing into him, and when you chance a look at the rest of your team—their faces washed in the dancing shadows and lights of the fire—they’re like statues. Ryan is still clinging to you, his fear everywhere in your body, his breathing shallow and rushed, and you don’t know what to do. Everything is moving too slowly around you to process, and there’s only fire that’s not cleansing but bloody, air that’s choked in artificial coconut, and earth and pavement cracking under your feet as the warehouse start to fall.

Then you hear the soft click of a gun, and vaguely register Mallory, pushing forward to Homelander, emptying her rounds into his chest. Bullets that fall to the floor with a rattling sound of metal, off-beat with the drums drawing closer to Ben, off-key with the ringing in your ears, and Homelander’s eyes glow red once more.

You feel something that’s heated—but foul and sticky and foreign—on your skin, Homelander’s eyes return to blue once more, and everything speeds back up.

Everyone is shouting around you. Plans are being made to get out, to find a way to survive this, but you’re not listening. Ben is grabbing you from behind, turning to so his body blocks you from Homelander’s view, and grabbing your chin with his free hand.

Run. Get Ryan the fuck out and run.

Ben-

I’ll find you, I’ll always fucking find you. You feel something rotten and aching start to cover his heart, but it’s not as strong as his wrath. As the hot, resolved, concrete fury in Ben’s body, that’s wrapping around you and making the world sharp as he searches your face with an almost desperate gaze. I swear I’ll find you, Sunshine, but you need to fucking run-

You lean forward, this kiss is feral. Savage and hopeful and made of pure, raw love. He’s everything, and you’re making sure he feels it. I love you, Benjamin.

I love you too. Ben grunts your name, running his thumb over your cheekbone with a soft, reverent touch. Run.

You nod, and don’t spare more than a glance at the scene before you—Mallory’s body split open on the pavement, Ben, Annie, Kimiko, and Butcher fighting Homelander as Frenchie, MM, and Hughie mostly just dodge and try to land blows where they can—before you take Ryan and go.

You hear Homelander roar your name behind you, and you don’t look back. There are flashes of light and heat ripping through the sky, and bangs and clatters as the warehouse begins to fully cave in, but you just keep fucking moving.

It’s useless to go for the limo—you hear it implode only moments after you pass it—so you pull Ryan deeper into the harbor, past more and more warehouses, trying not to drag him but unable to afford a single broken pace. Hiding is your best bet. Ryan’s shaking in your arms, sobbing and half-falling as you pull him along. Everything in his is made of pure, crippling fear that takes every single fiber of your will to push through, and you’re not faring much better. When you crumble against the wall of a warehouse that hides you in shadows and the crashing sound of the ocean, it starts to catch up with you.

How everything is cold, and you can’t fucking breathe. Everything is crashing and shattering around you, and it’s constricting over your lungs, plunging you into a white-hot pain that would be numbing if it didn’t feel like something was bruising and beating and searing into your skin. It’s holding you awake by your throat, and it’s made of wrong. Ben is in danger, and the drums keep falling in and out of time, and everything is wrong. Everything is thrashing and pulling and brutal inside you, trying to pull you back to Ben, but you have to stay here.

You have to stay here. With Ryan. It’s awful and you hate it, but you can’t leave Ryan. Another blow leaves an aching, denting pain on your skin like a phantom is trying to beat you into the ground, but you have to stay here, with Ryan.

He gasps your name, and you try to curl over him a little more. You can’t flinch when something hits you in your gut, or shout in pain as a foreign burn scratches over your skin. You have to keep a quiet as you can, and stay with Ryan.

“I didn’t mean to,” his words are choked, and his hold on your body might crack your bones. “I, I didn’t want anyone to get hurt, I wanted to help-“

You let out a soft shush, running your hand through his hair and over his brow. “I know, I know.” You sigh, and gently pry Ryan off your body. He goes with ease, letting you move him back just enough to meet your eyes. “I know you didn’t, Ryan, I know. It’s okay.”

His eyes are glossy with tears, and you think that it might be blurring your own vision. That, or the devastating pain that crashes through your chest—like someone’s hit with you with a bomb—or the way you swear you can hear Ben’s roar of pain somewhere on the wind.

“I’m sorry-“ 

“I know.” You don’t bother to try and smile at him, but you let your gaze grow soft, forcing down a sick, rotting and mold-like feeling that’s spreading over your chest. “This isn’t your fault, Ryan. It’s not.”

“Ben-“

“He’s strong.” You whisper, and he is. Ben is still alight and bloody and unforgiving inside of you, and the drums haven’t faded. They’re pounding louder and louder in your ears—never quite close enough, but drawing closer—and Ben is strong. “And he won’t blame you either. He knows this isn’t your fault, he won’t even think to blame you.”

“My dad-“

“We won’t let him hurt you.” That’s a promise you won’t let yourself break, so you pull Ryan a little closer and let him bury his head in the top of your chest. “I promise, he won’t hurt you.” 

“Can you,” Ryan lets out a shaking breath, and his fear doesn’t fade, but becomes a little less like a disease. A little easier for you both to breathe through. “Can you keep talking? It’s, it’s really loud, I don’t like it.”

“Of course,” you push down another feeling of pain, pain inflicted on your skin by something evil and crushing against  your head like a boulder. “Is there anything-“

“How did you meet Ben?” Ryan leans back a little, watching you with nervous, almost child-like eyes. Like maybe this is just a horrible nightmare, and he’s seeking easy comfort so he can go back to sleep. “He’s told me, but he kind of swore a lot, and he, um, isn’t a great storyteller.”

“No, he’s not.” You huff a soft laugh, and even as something slices over your skin, there’s a warm feeling humming in your head that’s always made of love for Ben. “I mean, he can be, but he does swear a lot. He’s a very vulgar old asshole.” You let out an almost dreamy sigh, and something crashes into the side of your head as you whisper, “I love him so much.”

Ryan’s nod is small, and he’s still watching you with wide eyes. “Did you, was it love at first sight-“

“God, no.” You keep your fingers combing in even patterns through Ryan’s hair, and raise your voice just a little more when he flinches at another too-close bang. “I thought he was the worst. He was crass and rude and mean, and I’d only been told that he was an asshole. And he is an asshole. But he’s also caring and honorable and determined and protective and reliable and loyal and rational and good. And he loves us.” The smile that tugs on your face is real, and Ryan returns it tentatively. “He loves both of us. A lot.”

“What’s his favorite color?”

“Green,” you hum, your smile growing a little bit more. “And he hates blue. Thinks it’s a pussy color.”

Ryan nods. “That, um, I think I’ve heard him say that.”

“You probably-” you cut yourself off with a slight groan, something beginning to beat into your face. And then it’s gone, and you hear a shout of your name. It’s from a voice that makes cracks line your vision, and it’s far too close. “Ryan, fuck,” you start to pull yourself up, taking Ryan with you as your whole body becomes sore, stinging and throbbing with that strange pain. “We need to move-“

Something cracks on the ground, wind rushing past you, and you shove Ryan behind your body as the cold sets in. Reducing everything to Homelander. Nine paces away and looking at you with a callous, hateful face.

“It’s over,” he hisses your name, hands locked behind his back as he takes you and Ryan in. “Your precious Ben isn’t strong enough to kill me, nobody is strong enough to kill me, now stop being a fucking bitch and come home.”

“No.” You whisper, and it’s more of prayer. A plea for something to help you, because you’re too weak. Your fire has gone dormant, and your blood has begun to try and climb out of your body, but you can’t control anything enough to not hurt Ryan. “Please, Homelander, please just leave us alone-“

“You’re fucking mine, I made you both, and no amount of prancing around and showing off your little party trick is going to change that you belong to me. You will always fucking belong to me-“

He takes a step forward, and the air feels like lead. “Please, just, just leave Ryan-“

“Nope.” Another step, and a disapproving tsk. “You’re both coming home, and we’ll get through this as a family. Don’t you want a family,” he says your name, and you feel so small. You can’t draw yourself up, can barely look him in the fucking eyes because they haunt your worst nightmares with how they butcher and chop and destroy every part of you that’s yours. “I mean, fuck, you can’t think Soldier Boy would give you one? He doesn’t care, and he’ll probably just, you know,” Homelander slices his hand over his throat with a click of his tongue. “You when you try to leave him. He’s not patient like I am. Also, let’s face it, your options are limited. You’re a fucking bitch, you’re lucky you’re pretty enough for me to put up with all your fucking tricks and manipulation and how annoying you are-“

“I’m sorry, I’ll, I’ll try to be better, just please leave Ryan-“

Another step. You’re trying to think of a way out, but there isn’t one. You don’t want to go back, you can’t go back, you’ll fucking shatter if you go back, and Ben is roaring your name somewhere in the distance but Homelander’s too strong. He’s malignant and unkillable and there’s no way to kill him now. You know Ben is trying to get to you and Ryan—you can feel him getting closer, alive and nuclear in your body—but he won’t be fast enough. He’s closer—and you feel something tear open in the crook of your elbow—so you can try to delay Homelander until he gets here, but it’s a slim shot.

Then, just after another step, something kills you before Homelander’s even at an arms distance. The whole world turnsto agony. Pure fucking pain and horror and anguish and you’re dying. It’s shredding you apart, and your whole body is wrapped in an unending explosion of pain. Your lungs feel like iron and your bones are burning and your skin is being flayed and ripped open and death would be better than this. You’re screaming—you only know because you can hear shrieks of pain that sound like yours—and your vision is clouding with black spots as your head caves in on itself. Your blood is made of lightning, and every nerve is trying to fly off your body as this feeling pulls you apart, as your organs and muscles are thrown around inside your body, being pried open and filled with something atomic. And then they seal shut and you take a desperate, ragged breath as the world clears.

You’re leaning against the wall, half slumping onto Ryan, and the pain is still lingering in your body. But Homelander is four steps away, and starting to reach out, and you can hear something good bellowing your name.

You can’t move—everything moving too slow and too fast all at once—but you still see Ben running behind Homelander, to you. Closer, so fucking close, but Homelander turns and sees him and it’s not close enough.

You’ll have to protect Ryan. Homelander is turning back to you with a crude, violent smile, and you know you’ll have to protect Ryan. Take every bullet you can so Homelander doesn’t ever hurt Ryan. And you’ll hold on to Ben, and you’ll fight and scrape your way out, figure out a way to get both you and Ryan home.

Ben says your name again, and it’s the worst sound you’ve ever heard. It’s aching and tormented, like he, deep down, knows he won’t reach you on time. Your eyes lock onto his over Homelander’s shoulder, and try to smile at him. He’ll fight to get you. And you’ll always find your way back to him.

Homelander takes a lunging step, and you’re going to fucking survive this, and you’ll let the sound of Ben roaring your name haunt you in every dream until you get to hear him say it with a soft, easy devotion instead of a rabid, dreadful, wild desperation.

You keep your eyes on Ben’s as Homelander takes that last step, and then the world washes in gold. Everywhere around you, solid in a way that feels so familiar, and warm. Grounding you back in your head, clearing to world into something sharp and tangible and safe.

Homelander isn’t touching you. He’s punching against the layer of gold around you, and then flinching back with wide eyes and a strangled sound.

Then Ben comes up behind him, and smashes Homelander’s face right into the wall of light and energy around you before yanking him away, and tossing him halfway down the ally.

You press your hand against the gold, and realize it’s Ben. It’s so familiar because it’s simply just Ben. It’s humming at your touch—a little extra light growing where you’ve placed your hand—and you meet Ben’s firm, tense gaze with wide eyes.

Benjamin. What did you do.

Took the V. He glances down to where Homelander is groaning, starting to rise back up. Don’t let Ryan touch it, it feels like the nuke or some shit.

Are you fucking insane-

No, Ben looks back to you, and you feel him roll in your chest. It worked, and you’re safe. I’m fine-

You could’ve died, you dumbass-

But I fucking didn’t. Homelander’s on his feet against, and Ben’s body braces, his fist clenching at his side. Stay here.

You glance back to the wall—molding into and around your touch—and realize that if you pushed it a little more it might simply let you past. As if it counts you as a part of itself the same way your empathy counts Ben as a part of you.

“What, what’s going on-“

You wrap your arm back around Ryan, trying to shield his view as Ben deals the first punch and Homelander goes flying into a wired, barbed fence. “They’re fighting,” you whisper, unable to tear your eyes away as Homelander staggers back up, lasers Ben right in the chest, and a searing pain pulses in the exact same spot on your body. “Ben took some V. Don’t,” your gaze flies back to Ryan, and you catch his hand as it raises to the gold around you. “Don’t touch it. It could be dangerous.“

“But you touched it-“

“That’s,” you sigh, your body jerking as Homelander lands a blow on Ben’s gut. “That’s different. Ben and I are, um, we’re connected. It can’t hurt me.”

Ryan’s eyes widen. “Butcher told me you put your brain in him, and you can read each other minds-“

“Yeah, I,” you take a heavy breath as Ben doges Homelander’s next punch, and lands five in return. “I did. Plant my brain in him. But it’s not mind-reading, it’s more like texting. I send him thoughts, he-“ you make a choked sound as Homelander’s hand wraps around Ben’s throat, and a frantic gasp as Ben kicks Homelander back, his whole body seeming to glow through the haze of gold. The drums are clearer, falling into time faster. “Fuck, Ryan, cover your eyes.”

“Why-“

“Please,” you squeeze your arm around him, letting your gaze flick back to search over Ryan’s open, frightened expression you fell across your skin. It’s not the paralyzing fear from before, it’s heavy. Uncertain and head-wrecking. “You don’t need to see this, I promise-“

He just nods and buries his head in your arm. You hold him there, forcing your breaths in and out as the drums get closer. So close, Ben’s staring to illuminate the whole fucking world, and Homelander’s just fumbling on the ground-

He’s not fumbling. He’s groping at his own suit, trying to grab something.

No.

You don’t know if it’s just in your head, or called out to Ben aloud, or traded between your minds, but Ben looks up. At you.

Homelander throws something at Ben, it breaks on his chest, and you feel his panic—feral and animalistic and raw, covering every single part of your body and trying to rip out of your chest—right before his eyes widen, and then close.

Ben falls to the ground, the golden barrier around you fading away, and he’s quiet inside you. Not gone, never gone, but darkened.

Asleep.

And you’re not afraid anymore.

You’re angry.

You’re screaming Ben’s name, Homelander is standing up—dusting himself off and turning back to you—and you’re furious.

The whole world is made of fire. Your whole body is racked with it, building and churning under your skin, sealing over cracks and making breathing so fucking easy. The air is filled with smoke, but breathing isn’t an act of labor at all.

It’s a way to focus.

Because you’re going to kill Homelander.

He doesn’t see it coming. He’s an overconfident, narcissistic, monstrous pussy, so he doesn’t recognize that he did break you. A vital, impossibly powerful piece of you just snapped in your body when Ben crumbled on the ground, and your own voice sounds far away when you tell Ryan to run. To find Butcher, and go. 

And then you’re moving. Half-flying to Homelander, and savoring the parasitic, hostile fear that rushes through you when your flaming fist collides with his face.

You’re in complete fucking control. Homelander stumbles back, and you don’t even fucking flinch. Your whole body is burning, your clothes turning to scorched ash under the white-purple flame, and you’re standing tall. Looking down your chin at Homelander as he collects himself, looking at you with an almost confused expression. 

“What is this,“ he says your name, running his hand over where his skin has twisted and burned, and you don’t bother to hide your sneer as you answer.

“This is it, you cunt.” You hiss. “You’re never touching me, or anyone else I love again.”

“Oh, please, you do not love Soldier Boy-“

“You willing to bet on that?”

Homelander blinks, looking between your burning body and Ben’s sleeping one, and scoffs. “You can’t be fucking serious. You’d really leave me for him-“ 

“I’m not leaving you. I was never yours.” You take a step forward, the pavement cracking under your feet. “I do love him. I really, really love your father, because he’s a million fucking times the man you are. He’s never,” the fire building in your fists grows brighter. “Hurt me. He always fucking respects me. He loves me.” You slash an arm through the air, and the wave of fire that rolls from it sends Homelander scrambling back. “And after I kill you, I’m going to marry him. And then I’ll have his kids. And it won’t because I’m his fucking vessel, it will be because I want to. And they will never,” the air around you is waving and electric and Homelander’s eyes widen. “Even know your fucking name.”

It clicks. In Homelander’s horrid, amoral, evil mind, it finally clicks. His eyes narrow, beginning to glow red, and he’s finally fucking got that you hate him.

“Fine.” He spits your name, rising off the ground and sneering down at you. “Have it your way, you ungrateful bitch.”

You don’t care for banter, or taunting. You just want to finish this. So when he lasers through your chest you bite down on your tongue, but both heal over in a second—skin and muscle and organs reforming so fast you don’t even stutter a breath—and your face curls into a smirk. He can’t hurt you.

And then you’re moving.

Homelander is strong than you. Physically. In terms of brute force, Homelander has the upper hand.

But you’re burning the fucking world, and it’s singing for you. The fire inside you is a hurricane, it’s volcanic, it’s world ending and city leveling, and it’s all fucking yours. And it’s not razing the ground or ocean, because it’s all focused on Homelander. Your vision is lined with red, and you’re going to kill him.

You dodge almost every blow Homelander attempts to deal you, and your technique—thanks to Ben—is perfect. Every hit you land is measured and powerful, wrapped in fire that sizzles and twists and boils Homelander alive. He lasers through you twice more, and it’s just as ineffective as the first time. If anything you brush it off faster, because it kicks your adrenaline up and the pain barely jolt through you for more than a second.

You have the upper hand. Homelander’s falling back as your fire grows hotter, and he’s almost covering is hideous, still smoking scars. You explode in fire, hovering off the ground from the pure force, and it knocks him to the ground.

You yank his head up—golden hair singeing black under your fingers, skin bubbling and growing marred beneath your touch—and hold his slightly fogged gaze, letting every inch hatred and loathing and fucking wrath in your body push back on whatever fear or anger lives in him. Allow every bit of your blood into Homelander’s body like a poison, digging your nails into his skin.

You lower your face down to Homelander’s, and hope he feels your every word.

“I hate you.” You search every inch of his pathetic, weak fucking face, your words easy but still spoken through teeth. “I fucking despise you. You’re a monster, Homelander, and I am never going to do anything better in my life than making sure you never hurt anyone again.”

His eyes flash, glowing red and cutting through your body, but your grip only tightens. The smoke is choking his air-pipe, he’s burnt and mauled from your flame, and the roar that builds in his throat is primal.

Cold, leather hands grab your wrists, but his grip slightly slack as he gasps for breath, and he can’t push you away from him.

Homelander’s eyes on yours are frenzied, and suddenly he’s surging up. Not to his feet, but to you. His mouth moving to yours, and your hold on him loosens as you push away from him on an instinct of no. No, never again, cold and wrong and horrible and no.

There’s an echoing boom, and then he’s gone. Homelander blasts up into the air, and you’re left naked on the ground.

And Ben’s still asleep.

You sprint back to him–body still ablaze—falling to his side on the ground, grabbing his face in your hands. The weight and terror of what just happened is crashing into you, and Ben’s asleep. Homelander said Sage’s gas would last for three days, you can’t wait three fucking days, you need Ben now. You need to feel him in your chest, to tell him you love him and adore him, to hit him and shout at him about how fucking stupid it was to shoot up the V, how thankful you are he did because you’re still here, and everything is going to be okay because you’re still together.

His face is completely neutral. Not peaceful, but blank. And when you try to shout between your heads, for him to wake up, please wake up, Benjamin, I need you to wake up now, it’s like screaming into the sky.

You know you’re crying because of the sobs that shake your body, but the tears are evaporating into your flame. You’re weakly slapping Ben’s face, trying to get his eyes to just flutter, but it’s pointless.

Hitting him is pointless. You can try one more thing.

You drop your brow to his—you’d worry about his skin burning, but it might wake him up, and you aren’t actually seeing any blisters form where you touch him—and pray to a God you don’t believe in that it can be this easy. That, as you start to grow lightheaded and the world fades in and out, it’s because it’s working and not because you’re hyperventilating and screaming choked sounds of Ben’s name.

Then you feel strong, steady arms wrap around your body, and you collapse against him with strangled, pathetic noise.

He grunts your name in your head, and your fingers tangle in his hair. You’re okay.

I’m, you nod, even as you try and pull Ben closer, try to climb into his body so you can break in the safest place in the world. I’m okay.

Sunshine-

I’m okay, really, I’m just tired. I just, Ben pulls you fully onto his lap, and you wrap your legs over his torso with another sob. I love you, please don’t do that again-

Ben doesn’t push back about how it wasn’t at all in his control, or how you’ve pulled a lot of similar stunts that might have left him as broken as you feel. He just squeezes you, moving your head to rest in his neck, and presses a kiss to the top of your head.

I won’t. And I love you too.

You nod, and there’s more to deal with, but you can’t make yourself move. You have to find the team and regroup, to figure out what to do with Mallory’s body, and work out Ben’s exact new powers, but you’re so tired, and those will still be issues in ten minutes. You have one last gamble to take—Homelander won’t face you head on, and you can’t risk Ryan like that ever again—and Sage’s next move to worry about, but right now you’ll just stay here. Sobbing into Ben’s body, letting him hum an off-key tune that’s meant to be Rainbow Connection until you’re only letting out shaky breaths, only feeling his warmth. He smells like pine and salt and gunpowder and something potent that’s mostly just Ben, and it’s invading your sense and bringing you down.

There will be more to do.

But you’re just going to stay here, with Ben, for a while.

End Note: Babe wake up, new Soldier Boy powers just dropped.

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[houserautha]

no, but feyd is upset with you over something you did and so he goes to train for hours to release some steam & comes back and ur 🐱 is dripping from thinking of ways to please him and get back into his good graces and he just takes ur poor little kitty on a joy ride to solace and ur creaming and crying bc this is all you ever wanted was to make him feel good, use you, and love you

There’s this audio of him say “I already know everything I need to know” and I can’t stop thinking about trying to apologize to him or make up for whatever you did to make him angry and he says that and then takes us to poundtown!!!

I think I blacked out writing this. Horny me fully took over.

Warnings: humiliation kink? He calls you a whore, rough sex

Feyd strikes the training dummy. Once. Twice. Until his knuckles bleed.

You thought you could go behind his back and put out an order for extra artillery — a decision that, had you made together, would’ve been fine. But you are supposed to be a team. Too many people have deceived him, have torn from him what he held in esteem. And though he didn’t think you capable of such a thing, it didn’t lessen any of his anger. It festered, molten-like, inside.

And since Feyd only had two ways of easing his temper, one of which had been the cause of it, he was forced to rely on the other. Sparring.

Eventually he got lost in the movements of his body, his opponent, the surge of blood in his ears. The soreness in his muscles a welcome reprieve to whatever was grieving him. He could lose himself in this, in combat, when his mind slipped away and he reverted back into old, violent habits. The way he was before you.

But he couldn’t think of you. Not now.

A sigh loosens from you. Frustrated, you withdraw your fingers from your cunt. There’s no denying that something is wrong with you, to be so aroused by your fight with Feyd that you seek out your pleasure as soon as he is gone. But it’s not what you want, what you need — only he can provide that. And who knows how long he’ll be gone, Feyd is unpredictable on a normal day, much less when he’s furious at you.

Still caught in that state of arousal, you allow your thoughts to drift back to the moment before he left. His pupils blown, plush lips pulled back in a snarl, stalking the room and looking so damn attractive in his armor. You barely heard any of the words he yelled at you, could only focus on the heat of desire pooling between your thighs.

It’s not until the shadows have lengthened and the glow globes illuminate the room that he returns. You’re there, waiting for him, dressed in the sheer teddy that you know he favors, and there’s no mistaking the approval in his eyes.

“What’s this?” He rasps, infuriatingly neutral.

“I wanted to make it up to you,” you say. You slowly approach him, footsteps muffled in the soft carpet.

“Then revoke the request.”

You stop. “No.”

Feyd brushes past you without a word. Irritated, you roll your eyes to the ceiling, pleading for some higher deity to relieve you of this burdensome man. Not one to be deterred, however, you traipse after him. “Let me show you how sorry I am.”

He begins removing his armor.

It’s a performance truly deserving of the highest accolades — his muscled body covered in a fine layer of sweat, each discarded piece of metal revealing more and more of him. If he’s trying to frustrate you even more or you’re just incredibly horny, you can’t tell. You tear your gaze from him as you feel your cunt clenching in anticipation.

Feyd ignores you. The view of him from behind is even more tantalizing than the side, firm ass on display as he steps into the shower receptacle. Your only answer is the burst of hot water from the spigot, washing away the blood and sweat, his tricep rippling as he puts one hand above his head and stands beneath the spray.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

“Feyd, c’mon, don’t be like this,” you say, raising your voice to be heard over the roar of water.

Still, nothing.

You try every trick in the book, but nothing you say invokes a solitary word from the na-Baron. You would rather have him be screaming and raging than this silent treatment and, worst of all, you’re still aching for his cock in you.

Teeth gritting, you force out, “Fine. I shouldn’t have done that. But I need you to know —”

Before you can even finish your train of thought, Feyd is stalking toward you. Water beads on his skin, in the furrow of his brow. A squeak escapes you when he grabs your face, hard, squeezing your chin to the point of tears forming in your eyes. Oh god, you want him so badly.

“Stop. Talking.” He orders. Feyd holds you there, dark gaze roaming over your face. When he speaks again, his voice is deep and rasping. “I already know everything I need to know.”

Then his mouth is on you, fierce and possessive, bruising your lips with his. Hands clutch at your sides, driving you forward. You gasp at the assault of the hot shower water on your skin as he thrusts you beneath it, shoving you up against the cool stone wall. The sheer teddy clings to your form and he angrily tears it from you, a dark chuckle brushing past your ear when he realizes that you weren’t wearing any panties underneath.

“Look at you, such a slut,” he snarls. You can feel him stroking his cock, readying himself, and you writhe in desperation. “You’re pathetic. So needy for this cock inside you.”

“Please,” you breathe out, blinking against the onslaught of water.

“You liked our fight,” he continues, “I could see it in your eyes.”

You nod, thighs clenching together as you imagine his intrusion. What was he waiting for?

“Tell me you liked it.”

“I-I liked it,” you say, your voice hovering into a whimper.

“Such a whore. And you think you can make it up to me by offering up that pretty pussy?” He cups your breasts, tugging on one of your nipples, and you cry out in surprise. “Tell me.”

“I thought I could — I thought I could make it up to you by offering up my pussy,” you stammer back. His fingers on your breasts are distracting, massaging and kneading, flickering over your taut nipples. Every touch of his feels as if it’s tethered to your cunt, ripples of desire flooding through you with each one.

Feyd presses his front to your backside, cock nudging up against your inner thigh but denying you the entry of it. He all but purrs in reply, mouth on the shell of your ear, “That’s right. So naughty. How do you know I even want to fuck a whore like you?”

“Please, please. I said I was sorry —”

He takes the opportunity to spear you with his cock, forcing you up against the shower wall with all of his might to keep you from squirming. The size and length of him without any warning is shocking, nearly cleaving you in half. At least, that’s what it feels like as he continues to rock into you, each snap of his hips burying him deeper and deeper inside.

It feels so fucking good that you grind back into him, desperate for more.

This is what you wanted, what you needed. You needed him angry and unhinged. Needed his mouth to scrape bites and kisses across your skin, his hands clamoring to touch all of you at once, fingers leaving bruises. You needed him to pump inside you like his cock was your penance, your misgivings laid at his feet. He was your fall from grace but also your redemption.

Your vision blurs as he wrings each orgasm from you until, finally, he shoots his cum inside you. It’s warm and thick, sticking to your walls, and both of you pant to catch your breath as he finishes, keeping his cock slotted in your cunt.

The shower water has turned cold now, dowsing you in glacial rivulets.

Feyd removes himself from you and places a kiss on the junction of your neck and shoulder. “Don’t do it again,” he warns before leaving you to recover, shivering from the cold and your weak knees. You can’t help but smirk.

In the end, you always get what you want.

[aflame4goinghome]

Illicit Affairs

d.r.w x reader

chapter v

Word Count: 15.6k

Warnings: THIS STORY CONTAINS SMUT, MINORS DNI!!! swearing, flirting, fluff, power dynamic; SMUT: kissing, touching, fingering, oral sex (f. & m. receiving), unprotected sexual intercourse, choking, a touch of exhibitionism, a little bit of a praise kink

A/N: This story is in collaboration with my wonderful, talented friends @gretavanstink & @childinthegardenn!! Go give them a follow and give @gretavanstink’s fics some love! Thanks for reading! :)

listen to the official playlist on spotify here !

chapter iv

· · ───────── ·𖥸· ───────── · ·

Your eyes flutter open, but quickly close shut as they’re blinded by the light coming from the window on the far side of Daniel’s bedroom. God, why didn’t we close the curtains? You think to yourself, then begin to remember how rushed and clumsy the end of your night had been. There wasn’t much time to worry about the curtains. 

Once you’re done thinking about the brightness of the morning sun, you turn over in the bed to look for Daniel and find that the spot where he used to be is empty. Typical. Not wanting to think about it, with the fear of reading too much into it, you slowly rise from the bed, grab your phone, and stumble toward the bathroom. Your slight hangover finally hits you as you trip over your feet slightly and you feel your head start to pound. 

“I’m never letting Rose talk me into doing shots of cheap vodka ever again,” you mumble to yourself as you turn on the faucet and rinse your face with the cold water. You check your phone to see the time: 9:15 am. What in God’s name possessed him to get up this early on the weekend? 

Having not planned to spend the night, you didn’t have much to get ready with, so you decide just water will do for now. After using the bathroom, you finally feel prepared to face the day, whatever it may hold. You open the bedroom door and step out into the living room, following the distant sounds that you hear coming from the kitchen. 

As you round the corner, you see Daniel standing in front of the stove, seemingly making something on the stovetop. He’s wearing a tight, white tank top that clings to his skin, and you can see his back muscles flex as he cooks. God, he just looks unbelievable. He paired it with a pair of gray sweatpants, sitting loosely just right above his waist. How a man is allowed to look that good this early in the morning is a crime. 

“Good morning,” you hum, finally breaking the silence to alert him of your presence. He turns over his shoulder to look at you, the corner of his mouth turning upward slightly as he sees you there behind him. You feel like you look pretty disheveled, but it seems like the sight of you looking groggy in his old band tee was exactly what he wanted to see at that moment. 

“Good morning,” he says with a smile. “I was making some eggs, if you want some. I wasn’t sure when you’d wake up.” You nod and walk over to stand at his side, leaning against the counter as he finishes up. He cuts up the eggs a bit with his spatula before lifting them off the pan and onto a plate sitting on the counter. 

“Here, you can have this one. I’ll make myself another,” he mutters, handing you the plate of scrambled eggs. You give him a shy smile as you take the plate, slightly taken aback by the hospitality. It makes you happy though, it almost feels natural. 

“Thanks… do you have ketchup?” you ask. 

“You’re one of those people, huh?” he laughs, walking over to the fridge. He opens the door and grabs a bottle of ketchup, setting it on the counter before reaching back in to get a few more eggs. With the eggs in one hand, he shuts the fridge door and then uses his other hand to hand you the bottle. “Here. There’s coffee in that pot over there, too, if you want a cup. There’s mugs in the cupboard above it.”

You smile and nod, turning around to walk to the other side of the kitchen. You put the plate down and open the lid of the ketchup bottle, squeezing some ketchup onto your plate. You reach up to open the cupboard above to get a mug and your eyes scan for the perfect one, finding a cute marbled one and grabbing it. You pour some coffee into the mug, opting for no cream because you honestly didn’t want to ask for anything else, then pick up the sugar next to the coffee maker and pour some into the cup. 

You find a seat at one of the barstools on the other side of the wall, since he had a tall counter in between the kitchen and living room, like a kind of kitchen island. You take a sip of your coffee then have a bite of your eggs, looking up at him as he makes his own on the frying pan across from you. 

“This is really good,” you remark, smiling lightly as he turns around to look at you. “It was really nice of you. You didn’t have to do all this, you know.” You add, feeling slightly bad that he put in all this effort just for you. You almost don’t feel worthy of it, it isn’t like he’s your boyfriend or anything. It’s casual, and you know he doesn’t owe you breakfast. 

“It’s nothing, really,” he says casually, turning back to the stove. “I was going to make myself something anyway, it would be rude not to make something for you too.”

“Yeah, I guess,” you relent, shrugging as you take another sip of your coffee. “Well, thank you.”

“It’s my pleasure,” he says, finishing up his eggs and plating them. He grabs his own coffee and comes to sit across the island from you. The two of you eat in comfortable silence until you finish up your food, standing up to take your dishes to the sink. 

“No, let me do it,” he says, reaching out to take them from you. You shake your head, insisting as you walk back into the kitchen. 

“Daniel, you made me breakfast. The least I can do is put my own dishes in the sink,” you scoff teasingly, placing your dishes down and then approaching him. He rolls his eyes affectionately and then wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into him. He’s seated in the stool and somehow, he’s still taller than you. 

“I had a good time last night,” he smirks, placing soft kisses along the underside of your neck. Shivers shoot down your spine as your arms fall to his waist and you tilt your head back slightly.

“Did you? ‘Cause at the club, it seemed like it wasn’t really your type of scene,” you reply with a laugh. 

“Wasn’t talking about the club,” he mutters against your skin. Fuck, the effect he has on you is overwhelming. The feeling of his lips ghosting along your skin felt intoxicating, but you really couldn’t stay any longer. 

“As much as I would love to continue this, I do have to go home…” you answer, leaning up to place a short kiss on his cheek before backing away, not trusting yourself to stand your ground if his hands were still on you. “I have a quiz in my philosophy class tomorrow morning that I still haven’t studied for.”

“As if you actually need to study,” he remarks with a laugh. You roll your eyes and walk out to the living room, with Daniel following closely behind. 

“Believe it or not, I do,” you say, trying to hide your smile and keep your serious demeanor. “I also have to do the reading for your class, if you don’t recall.” He chuckles and you hear him mutter “Whatever” as you walk toward the bedroom. As you gather your costume, you look down and realize that you’re still wearing his shirt and are only in your underwear. 

“Oh, shit, I forgot. I should give this back, I can just put my costume back on really quick,” you mumble, reaching down to grab the hem of the shirt to pull it over your head, but Daniel’s strong hand stops you. 

“No, you keep it,” he says, pulling your hand away. He walks over to his dresser, grabs another pair of sweatpants, and hands them to you. “Take these too. No reason for you to put that sweaty costume back on, baby.” 

“Are you sure? I don’t wanna take this stuff if you need it,” you say suspiciously. 

“I’m sure. That shirt doesn’t even fit me anymore,” he answers, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “You look better in it, anyway.” Your cheeks flush and you nod, slipping the sweatpants on. He walks you to the door and you slide on your shoes. He calls you an Uber and he walks you downstairs to the front of his building, placing a soft kiss on your lips before you walk out the door and enter the car. 

On your short ride home, you start to wonder what November will have in store for you. You already know that it’s going to be extremely busy– the deadlines have already begun to pile up. A lot of your professors made papers due before Thanksgiving break, wanting to give you that time off. While you appreciate the time off, it also adds to your stress by having all these assignments due all at once. You weren’t looking forward to it.

· · ──────── ·𖥸· ───────── · ·

When you walk into Daniel’s class on Monday morning, you get yourself situated and then look around the classroom, noticing one glaring difference. Stephen didn’t show up. Not that you expected him to, but you were almost nervous that he’d make a bigger scene. You breathe a sigh of relief, hoping that he’ll keep his knowledge of your relationship, if you can even call it that, to himself.

The rest of your week goes rather smoothly, with you being too busy writing papers to think about much else. This is how the next week goes too, completely swamped with work and studying. You knew that this is how November always goes, but it doesn’t change the fact that you dreaded it. 

You barely got to see Daniel at all, only able to pop into his office every once in a while to say hi. You could tell that he was drowning in work himself, always having things to grade whenever you would visit his office. You understand that you were both busy, but you have to admit that you miss him. You wouldn’t necessarily tell him that, though, not wanting to scare him off. 

He’s given you mixed signals lately on what you are to him, and it’s honestly starting to drive you crazy. You both started this arrangement with the idea of it being just sex, but you find yourself wanting to just spend time with him more and more, without a hookup. Sometimes, you wonder if he feels the same way. He’ll invite you to sit in his office and study, just being in each others’ presence. That isn’t exactly what you would call casual. But you didn’t want to push too hard, preferring to have questions than have nothing at all, so you just let it go. 

You’ve finally finished all your assignments, turning them in at the beginning of the week. You leave on Saturday to go home to your mom’s house for the Thanksgiving break, so you’re trying to get your work in early.  Your mom’s job had gifted her a 4-night stay in a beach resort in Fort Lauderdale for the holiday, so the two of you were leaving on Monday morning for Florida. Your family never got to go on many vacations after your mom became a single mom, let alone a beach vacation, so this gift from her job was a lovely surprise. 

You’ve avoided telling Daniel about it, partially due to your busyness, but also because he had been under the impression that he’d see you over the break. Being from neighboring towns, he had mentioned in passing about possibly visiting Frankenmuth and seeing the holiday decorations. 

The idea sounded nice to you at first, but you realized that it would complicate things. How would you explain to your mom why you’re going there? You guys haven’t visited there in years, so why would you go now? You were in no position to try and explain your relationship with your professor to your mother. So when she brought up the trip plans, it was almost the perfect excuse. But now you had to break the news to Daniel.

On Friday, you knock on his office door apprehensively, unsure if he’s there. When you hear his voice tell you to come in, you take a deep breath and crack the door open, shutting it behind you. You approach his desk and he puts down the papers he’s reading to look up at you. 

“Y/N, what can I do for you?” he says deeply, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. You look down at your feet and fidget with your hands briefly. 

“Well… I wanted to tell you that I’m actually going away with my family for the break, not going back home. I know you thought we might spend some time together so… I’m sorry,” you spit out nervously, looking up at him to gauge his reaction. He doesn’t give you one though, but just nods his head. 

“I see. That’s fine, I understand,” he answers. “Where are you going?” 

“Florida. It’s some sort of beach resort,” you say, trying to still seem casual about it all.

“Sounds nice,” he remarks, standing up and placing his palms on the desk, leaning forward so that his face is only inches from yours. “Send a few pictures of you looking gorgeous in a bikini and come back with a tan, and I think we can call it even…” God, he always manages to make you flustered without even trying. You breathe out a quick breath as his lips turn upward into a smirk. 

“Deal,” you say, biting your lip slightly as you see his eyes glance down at them. One of his hands shoots up to wrap around the back of your neck, pulling you into his lips. His tongue grazes your bottom lip as he pulls you closer, your body flush against the front of the desk. Before it can go too far, he pulls back, flashing you a cheeky smile. “Something to remember me by.”

At that, you compose yourself and pull away from him to turn around and walk out the door. As you twist the knob and pull the door open, you’re startled by Danie’s voice once more.

“Don’t miss me too much, sweetheart,” he says cheekily, shooting you a wink as you turn round to face him. You roll your eyes with a soft smile.

“No promises,” you tease, turning back around to walk out the door. You hear a chuckle fall from his lips as you shut the door behind you.

Finally, you head home to pack for your trip. You throw a variety of clothes into your suitcase, some warmer stuff for when you’re still in Michigan, and then your summer clothes for Florida. The next morning, you wake up, pack the car, and drive you and Rose back to your hometown. She’s just staying at her parent’s house for the break, so the two of you go home together. 

“So… how did sexy professor feel when you told him you were leaving for break?” Rose asks with a teasing tone. You roll your eyes, keeping your eyes on the road as you drive down the highway. 

“He was fine,” you scoff. “It’s barely even two weeks, he doesn’t care. It’s not like he’s my boyfriend or anything,” you add. 

“Right,” she answers sarcastically. “So, you’re saying you’re not gonna miss him?”

“Well, I–” you start, looking over at her with a glare. “I’m not sure what that has to do with anything,” you mutter, turning back to the road. You hear her giggle behind you and you take your right hand off the steering wheel to smack her arm playfully. 

“You’re down bad,” she laughs, turning to look out the window. 

“You’re insufferable,” you say, shaking your head as you try to hide your smile. 

Whether what Rose said held any truth or not, you would never admit it. You don’t feel that it mattered that much, anyway. Even if you felt that way about him, you wouldn’t even think of telling him about it. It’s clear that he has no interest in being serious with anyone, especially his student. You’re sure that if you were to want something more, he’d laugh in your face. So, you’ve subconsciously decided to shove it down as far as you could, in hopes that the butterflies would go away. 

You can be honest with yourself and say that you’ll miss him, however, in more ways than one. Sure, your sexual chemistry together is deeper than anything else you’d ever experienced before, but it goes a bit further than that. You just find yourself wanting to spend time with him, to be around him. 

Over these past three months, you’ve gotten to know each other so well that it almost feels like he’s your best friend. You’ve shared so many of your deepest secrets together, and you’re vulnerable with each other in a way that you wouldn’t dare to be with someone else. It’s hard not to miss a person who’s there for you in that way. You can admit that the arrangement between you two has far transcended the bounds of a casual hookup, but you’d never delude yourself into thinking that you could ever be together publicly. So, you’re just happy with what you have now. 

The two of you finally exit the highway into your hometown and you drop Rose off at her parents’ house, then pull into your driveway a few minutes down the road. You quickly greet your mom then head upstairs to start packing for your trip, since you’re leaving in the morning. As you open up your suitcase, you pull out your phone and are surprised to see a text pop up on your lock screen. 

From: Daniel🥁

Make it back okay?

Fuck. You smile down at your phone widely as you look at the message for a moment before responding. 

To: Daniel🥁

Got home not too long ago, just packing up my things now.

You press send, still smiling at your phone like an idiot. If Rose saw how easily he affected you, you knew you’d never hear the end of it. You didn’t expect him to reach out so soon after you left, but you can’t deny that it made your heart swell. A guy never cared enough to check in on you like this before, now that you think about it. You try not to read into it too deeply, though. 

From: Daniel🥁

Glad to hear that. 

From: Daniel🥁

Don’t forget the bikinis ;)

You smirk to yourself and throw your phone down on the bed, turning around to dig through your top drawer to find the swimsuits you plan to bring. After a few moments of searching, you finally find them, pulling them out and putting them on the bed. You take a quick picture of them on your bed and attach it to your message.

To: Daniel🥁

You mean these? 

You don’t even have to wait more than ten seconds before your phone pings again with another text. You knew he was eager, but you didn’t think he was that eager.

From: Daniel🥁

Yes, those…

From: Daniel🥁

Do I get a sneak peek?

You giggle to yourself as you pick up the bathing suits and toss them into your suitcase along with the rest of your clothes. 

To: Daniel🥁

Oh, no. I think I’ll save that for the beach. 

To: Daniel🥁

You’ll just have to be patient :) 

You smirk to yourself as you put your phone down on the floor and pile some more things into your bag. As you sort through your clothes to pick out what to bring, a certain t-shirt catches your eye. It’s the Foo Fighters shirt that Daniel lent you after Halloween. Almost instinctively, you toss the shirt into your suitcase. After a minute or so, you’re startled by the sound of your phone vibrating on the floor. You pick it up to see Daniel’s contact taking up the screen as his call continues to ring. You know you’re in for it now.

“Hello?” you answer innocently, sitting cross-legged as you hold the phone up to your ear.

“There are a lot of words to describe me, sweetheart, but patient is not one of them,” he says on the other line, his voice low and raspy. Fuck, his voice just sent shivers down your spine. You don’t even care if you’re in trouble or not, just getting this reaction out of him was worth it. 

“It’s never too late to learn,” you say cheekily, smirking to yourself as you wait in silence for his response. Even after all this time, he made you so nervous, but you can’t help but test your luck to see how much you can get away with. 

“We both know that’s not how this works,” he answers. You can practically hear the arrogance dripping from his voice, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t turn you on. “You’re not forgetting who’s in control already, are you? You’ve only been away mere hours.” 

“No, I remember, professor,” you say, your smirk widening. 

“I thought so,” he says, pausing for a moment. The line is silent, but you could cut the tension with a knife. “You wanna be a good girl and try one of those on for me, baby?”

Fuck, it’s getting harder and harder to resist. He had the ability to make you want to do anything he asked, and he knew that. He has you right where he wants you. But you intend to still have the upper hand, no matter how hard it is to maintain. 

“Can’t,” you say casually. “They’re already all packed away, probably buried at the bottom of the suitcase by now. Sorry.” You almost wish he could see the smug look you have on your face right now. You hear him let out a short laugh on the other end, almost sounding like a scoff, but still somewhat lighthearted.  

“Okay, Y/N. If you want to play this game, then so be it,” he says softly. You can practically hear the smirk across his lips. “I suppose you’ll just have to make it up to me.”

“That can be arranged,” you say with a smile. After a brief moment of comfortable silence, you look at how late it's gotten. “Hey, I gotta go. We have an early flight tomorrow.”

“Ah, alright,” he answers, clearing his throat. “Safe travels, then. I hope to see you and your beach photos soon,” he says with a soft laugh at the end of his sentence. Even when he was trying to sound nonchalant, he was still charming. You really don’t understand how he does it. 

“You certainly will,” you say softly. “Goodnight, Daniel.”

“Sweet dreams, angel.”

You sigh to yourself as you end the call, falling back onto your bed and looking up at the ceiling. You hate how much his use of nicknames makes your stomach flutter. Your cheeks are a deep shade of pink as you turn over in bed, turn off your lamp, and plug your phone in before bed. 

If this is how he acts after a few hours apart, how will it be by the end of the week? You smile to yourself as you think about it. The attention that he paid you was above and beyond what you expected this relationship to go. It’s gotten to the point where you’d do almost anything to keep it. You close your eyes, feeling excited for your short getaway with your mother, as well as the prospect of a possibly attentive Daniel texting you daily. This was about to be the longest week of your life. 

· · ──────── ·𖥸· ���──────── · ·

You shove the last few books into your bag before slipping it over your shoulder and leaving your apartment for the first day back to class after break. Much to your dismay, it’s also the last full week of class before finals are in full swing, which you’re absolutely dreading. Your philosophy professors have all slammed you with long essays, all to be turned in by the end of next week. It’s all you’ll be able to focus on.

Luckily for you, your art history exam is the least of your worries. You know all the content well, and whether you like to admit it or not, you may have a bit of an advantage when it comes to the class. You have easy access to the most direct study tool for the test, not like you’d need it. But you wouldn’t admit that to anyone out loud for fear of anyone thinking you get special treatment (a.k.a Stephen… fuck that guy). 

At the end of your last class, you decide to pop into Daniel’s office to see if you could study there for a little while. You get stuff done better with company, or at least that’s what you tell yourself. As the elevator opens to the third floor, you turn the corner and see that his office door is already cracked open. You knock softly on it before opening it up and find him sitting at his desk, seemingly grading essays. His head lifts up as he hears the knock, you can see his expression soften as he sees it’s you. 

“Y/N,” he says, putting his papers down on his desk to give you his full attention. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” You roll your eyes at him, already feeling slightly flustered at his flirtatious tone.

“Well, I have some work to do and was thinking maybe you’d want some company?” you ask hopefully, entering the room and leaving the door cracked the way you found it. “Unless you’re too busy, of course. I don’t wanna impose.”

“Don’t be silly. Go on, sit,” he answers, his lips tugging upward into a small smile as he adjusts his posture and picks his red pen back up to continue working. You can’t help but feel the warmth grow across your face as you walk over to sit on the couch across from him, leaning against the arm and stretching out before taking out your laptop. Your eyes flicker toward him once more before you open your laptop and pull up your draft for one of your classes.

You try for a while to get your thoughts together enough to continue writing, but your mind has completely drawn a blank. You thought you had your argument down on this paper for your moral philosophy class, but now you feel as though you’ve completely lost it. You’re meant to propose a thesis about decision-making and what different ways of decision-making can tell us about ourselves. It’s all rather deep and introspective, which you typically enjoyed, but now it just made your brain feel like mush. You have an outline of what you want to discuss, but you don’t know where to start. 

Your eyes leave your laptop to look over at Daniel again. His eyebrows are furrowed slightly as he writes a note furiously on someone’s paper. How he managed to look so handsome while doing such mundane tasks genuinely drives you crazy. 

Now that you think about it, Daniel must know some things about philosophy. He has several philosophy books on his shelves behind you, including a book by Kant, which is one of the many sources that you have to pull from for this essay. You wonder if he may be able to help– at the very least you could bounce ideas off of him, as a scholar. God, he’s intelligent. Hot and smart, completely unfair. 

Suddenly, his eyes lock with yours and you realize that you’ve been caught. Shit. He raises an eyebrow at you as you nervously look back at your computer, pretending like you were doing something. You knew he wouldn’t be convinced, though. 

“What is it?” he asks, putting his pen down to look over at you. 

“Nothing. It’s nothing, I just got distracted–” you answer swiftly, looking at the cursor blinking on your laptop to avoid his gaze. He clicks his tongue before cutting you off. 

“Alright, bring it here,” he says, with a smirk appearing across his lips. You hesitate at first, but he raises his eyebrows at you expectantly, as if to say ‘come on’. Reluctantly, you peel yourself off the couch and walk over to his desk, bringing your laptop with you.

You go around the desk to stand on his right behind it, placing the computer in front of him and then leaning your arm on the top of the desk. You wait as his eyes scan the assignment and the small amount of introductory text that you’ve written so far. 

“Why don’t you focus more on consequentialism rather than deontology? It’s more easily explained, considering it relies more on feeling than it does on theory,” he starts, turning over his shoulder to look up at you.

“And here I thought you were a Kantian,” you say teasingly, He lets out a small laugh before continuing, his lips curled up into a smile.

“I can both be a scholar of Kantian ethics while also believing that consequentialism makes the most sense in practice,” he says smugly. “Given our little arrangement, I would think that you would be most familiar with consequentialism.”

“What do you mean by that?” you ask, crossing your arms as you lean back to rest your back against the desk. Another laugh leaves his mouth, sending jolts throughout your body. He stands up from his chair, placing his arms on the desk on either side of you, almost trapping you in. His face is mere centimeters away from yours and you can feel his breath against your cheeks. 

“Well… I’d say that our relationship is rather hedonistic… wouldn’t you?” Daniel answers with a smirk. 

Fuck. He even makes philosophy sexy. And he isn’t entirely wrong, either. The two of you certainly disregarded a number of morals in favor of your… “arrangement” in order to pursue pleasure. You often think to yourself that it’s part of the reason you like it so much as if you pursue it because it’s wrong. You both knew that the entire thing was incredibly morally compromising, in more ways than one, but chose to pursue it anyway.

“I suppose that’s true,” you answer, in almost a whisper. His face is too close for you to even think straight. What were you doing over here again? You can’t even remember. 

“We both know that it is, sweetheart,” he says, his nose brushing against yours. “You like this little forbidden love affair, don’t you?” 

A quiet sigh escapes your lips as your head starts to spin. Before you even have the chance to respond, his lips crash into yours. It’s messy and rushed, his hands tangled in your hair as he pulls you closer to him. Your arms wrap around his waist and your fingers hold onto his belt tightly as the kiss intensifies, his tongue gliding against your bottom lip swiftly before finding its way into your mouth, tangling with yours. 

All of a sudden, reality crashes into you head-on. You left the door cracked open. In between kisses, you pull away from his lips, and they start to descend down your neck toward your collarbone. 

“Daniel,” you say quietly, attempting to control your breathing as he sucks harshly on your neck. “The door. I didn’t close it.” His eyes flick upward toward the door briefly before he continues his assault on your neck, kissing softly onto your collarbone.

“I don’t care. I don’t think you do either,” he growls against your skin, holding your waist tightly in one hand as the other tugs on your hair, eliciting a quiet whine out of your mouth.

“Someone could walk in and–” you start, your mind reeling as you try to stay focused, but he interrupts your rambling immediately. 

“Let them,” he whispers, sending goosebumps throughout your body. “Don’t act so innocent… Deep down, you know you’d like it,” he says with a smirk before his lips return to yours. He pulls on your hair again and you moan quietly into his mouth, which luckily muffles the sound. 

As he lowers your back to lie down on the desk and holds your waist still with one hand as the other pops open the button of your jeans, your mind has completely forgotten about the door. He was right. You don’t care if someone walks in. Something deep inside you almost wants somebody to, just so that they know that you were his. 

Before you can question what this thought means, your thoughts are pulled back to the present as he slides your jeans past your waist and lets them drop to the floor. He kneels behind the desk, his face level with your core. His thumb starts to rub slow circles against your clit, still covered by the fabric of your panties. You knew you were already soaked, feeling the tension of the wet fabric move against your folds. Without a moment of hesitation, Daniel dips his fingers into the sides of your underwear, yanking them down to sit with your jeans. 

It isn’t even a second later that his lips wrap tightly around your clit, sucking harshly as his hands hold you still by your hips. He held you so tightly that you were sure that it would leave marks, but you didn’t care. All you could think about was how his mouth felt against you, his tongue swirling harshly around your swollen bud. It was like he was starved, as though he couldn’t survive another moment without tasting you. 

One of his hands leaves your waist and you feel his finger glide through your folds before it enters you completely. Your body jolts, and his other arm moves to hold you down, stretching completely over your torso. His eyes drift upward to look into yours, burning into you.

“Stay,” he commands before dipping his face back down into you, licking a stripe up to your clit before inserting a second finger into you. His fingers worked fast and harsh, curling up into you so much that your eyes nearly rolled back into your head. You can feel your orgasm creeping up on you fast, so much so that you can hardly even control it. You knew you couldn’t control it, actually. He controlled it. 

“Shit, Daniel, I’m close,” you whine quietly, still conscious that any noise too loud would certainly echo through the hallways. He smirks against you as his pace quickens, helping you chase your high.

“Yeah, that’s it, baby. Let me have it, fuck,” he mumbles against you, sending shockwaves throughout your body as you finally let go. 

It was almost euphoric, you hadn’t realized how much you had craved him during your time off from school, but it was clear now. His touch was intoxicating, every hint of it made your head spin. He helps you through it, slowing his fingers down and then finally pulling them out. He stands up, bringing his fingers up to his mouth and slowly sucking your release off of his fingers with a low hum.

“So sweet,” he says, his voice low and dripping with lust. You sit up, still sitting on the desk as he brings his lips down to yours. You can still taste yourself on them, which was surely his goal. You’d be lying if you said that didn’t turn you on even more. Your hands reach down to his belt and attempt to undo it before his strong hands stop you.

“Uh-uh,” he says sternly. “You’ve got work to do.” Damn him for always being right. You would never say that to his face. 

“Ugh, fine. Whatever,” you answer stubbornly, reaching for your computer and retreating back to your spot on the couch. You pout as you sit down, hoping it’d persuade him.

“Finish the paper. If you’re good, then maybe we’ll pick up where we left off,” he says with a smirk, adjusting his very obvious boner inside his pants before sitting back down at his desk and returning to his task. God, this man was going to be the death of you. 

· · ──────── ·𖥸· ───────── · ·

You lay your pencil down and flex your hand, trying to relieve yourself from the cramp in your fingers from writing the last answer on your final. After skimming over what you’ve written, you let out a satisfied sigh. You lower your desk before you stand, slipping your bag over your shoulder and making your way to the desk at the front of the room. A blush creeps onto your cheeks as Daniel looks up to watch you lay your exam down on the pile and a smile tugs at the corners of your mouth. 

You open your mouth to say something, but you stop yourself as you hear another student lower their desk, followed by footsteps down the aisle behind you. With a smile and a nod, you turn and leave the classroom. As you step into the hall, your watch lights up with a message and you glance down at it, a new smile playing on your lips.

From: Daniel🥁

Test period is almost over, go wait outside my office.

Your cheeks flush and you glance over at your shoulder to see Daniel staring at you from behind his desk, a smirk on his face. He winks at you and you roll your eyes playfully before turning and leaving. You glance towards the elevators as the doors open to let a few other students in and you flag down the last person to hold the door.

“Thanks,” you say, stepping in and tapping the button for the third floor. You slip your phone out of your packet and swipe through your notifications as you lean your shoulder against the wall. The elevator stops at the second floor and, not paying attention, you move to step out, your body colliding with another student stepping in.

“Shit, sor-” you trail off as you realize it’s Stephen. You fight to not have a visible reaction as you step back to let him in and continue, “Sorry.”

Stephen scoffs and rolls his eyes, stepping in and standing off your shoulder behind you. “Did you even have to show up for the final?” He says under his breath but loud enough for you to hear. 

“Probably not, but I did anyway,” you say, not bothering to look at him. “Believe it or not, I earn my grade.” 

Stephen laughs and you see him shake his head in the reflection on the door. “Oh, I’m sure you work really hard for it,” he says as the doors open to the third floor.

“I do,” you say simply, adjusting your posture and shooting him a look over your shoulder as you step into the hallway. You don’t bother with a goodbye, you don’t owe him politeness. As the doors close you hear him scoff, but you don’t glance back, you just head to the bench outside of Daniel’s office and plop down.

You let out a sigh and rub your temples, leaning back against the wall behind the bench. You’re exhausted, having not had a good night’s sleep all of finals week, but this was your last one and you couldn’t be more relieved to be done. 

You pull your AirPods out of your bag, putting one in as you slip your phone out of your pocket. “Hmm,” you hum, scrolling through your playlists. You pick a random one, not really sure of what you’re in the mood to listen to, and tap shuffle. Heaven by Niall Horan and you let your eyelids fall shut, your head resting on the wall. 

“Let’s not get complicated, let’s just enjoy the view.” You shake your head at the words and scoff a laugh through your nose. Sounds easy when you put it that way, you think to yourself as you tap the skip button. You’re not ready to unpack those thoughts right now. 

You’re not sure how much time has passed when you hear the familiar click of Daniel’s shoes on the tiled floor, the sound prompting you to open your eyes. You can’t help the smile that stretches across your face when he rounds the corner, his lips tugging up when he sees you waiting.

“Good girl,” he says as he approaches you, running his finger along your jaw quickly before unlocking his door and holding it open for you. You stand and slip your bag over your shoulder, stepping past him into the doorway. He lightly swats your ass as you pass him, a soft gasp escaping you. You spin around as he closes the door behind him, his shoulders moving as he laughs to himself.

“Pleased with yourself?” You ask, folding your arms across your chest and raising an eyebrow. 

“Hmm, very,” Daniel says, dipping down to press a kiss to your temple as he walks past you to his desk. He leans back against the edge, glancing between you and the chair in front of him.

You roll your eyes playfully and sit down, putting your bag at your feet and letting your hands rest in your lap as you look up at him through your eyelashes. “Did you have something you wanted to talk to me about?” You ask, your voice sweet.

He glances at the papers on his desk and picks one up, holding it out to you. “Sam is playing a solo gig tomorrow night, starts at 9,” he explains as you take the flier and skim it. “Figured you and Rose could use a laid-back night out.” He shrugs casually, the poster boy of calm, cool, and collected. Your cheeks flush lightly as you realize he’s inviting you to go out with him. You can’t help the beat your heart skips as you flick your eyes up from the paper to meet his. 

“I’ll be there a couple hours before he starts,” he continues. “I told him I’d help him get set up and soundcheck.”

“Okay,” you say simply, not daring to allude to him asking you out. You weren’t sure whether it was for his sake or yours. You’ve been trying to cling to casual as tightly as you can, to not let yourself indulge in any sort of delusion that tells you he could be interested in you the same way you’re interested in him. “I’ll talk to Rose when I get home.” 

There’s a moment of silence between you and you swear you can see something like disappointment that you didn’t give a straight-up yes. Your heart flutters at the idea of him wanting you there, but you push the thought away before it can overwhelm you.

“I’ll be there,” you add finally, “I just have to see if Rose is free to come along.”

His shoulders relax slightly, barely perceivable, and a small smile graces his lips. “No big deal if she can’t,” he says, the tone of his voice causing the flush in your cheeks to spread down your neck. The thought of spending a night out with just him driving you to your feet as you slip your bag over your shoulder.

“Well I’ll see you tomorrow night then,” you say, smiling up at him briefly before turning towards the door. 

Before you can take a step, Daniel catches your wrist and pulls you into him, his free hand pressing into your lower back as your hand splays across his chest to catch yourself. His lips capture yours before a word can leave them, his tongue swiping across your bottom lip. You part your lips for him and his tongue strokes against yours. He kisses you until you’re breathless and lifts his head, smirking down at you.

“See you tomorrow night, baby,” he says, his hand sliding over your ass and squeezing as he dips his head again to press a kiss to the sweet spot below your ear. “Congrats on finishing finals,” he murmurs against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Could’ve been done on Wednesday, if it wasn’t for your Friday final,” you challenge, fighting to keep your voice even as you let your head roll to the side to give him easier access. His lips trail down the slope of your neck and he pulls the collar of your sweater to the side to continue towards your shoulder. 

“Not my fault,” he hums against your skin before lifting his head. You fight back a disappointed groan at the lost contact and look up at him. “Now, as much as I’d like to lay you out over the desk, I have exams to grade.”

You roll your eyes and push against his chest, but he doesn’t release his grip on you. “Well, then you should probably let go, professor,” you say sweetly, blinking up at him. This time when you push against him he lets go, allowing you to step back from him as you adjust your bag on your shoulder. 

“Tomorrow,” you say, turning and walking towards the door. “Enjoy grading,” you add before you open the door and leave, starting your trek back to your apartment. As you approach the bus stop, you tug your phone out of your pocket and open your texts with Rose.

To: Rose🌹

What are you doing tomorrow?

Three dots pop up as the bus pulls up and you step on when the doors open, tapping your phone to the card reader to pay for the ride before sliding into a seat.

From: Rose🌹

Just packing for break. Why?

To: Rose🌹

Daniel invited us out to go see a solo gig that Sam is playing

You lock your phone and let your head fall back against the seat, letting out a long sigh as thoughts swarm your head. Though you tried to keep them at bay, they are persistent thoughts and you can’t have your guard up 24/7. Daniel invited you out. Sure he invited Rose out too, but he made it clear he only cared if you show up. 

From: Rose🌹

SEXY PROFESSOR!

You smile at the message, assuming that means she’ll go with you, and shake your head.

To: Rose🌹

You’ll get to see Sam👀

From: Rose🌹

I bet he told sexy professor to invite me😌

You sit up and slip your phone into your pocket as the bus pulls up to your stop, grabbing your bag and stepping down onto the sidewalk. Thank god your building is right around the corner from the stop. You make your way inside and up to your apartment, opening the door to a grinning Rose. 

“Let me get a little packing done and then we can debrief,” you giggle as you walk to your room, crouching in front of your record crate and thumbing through your jazz compilations. You settle on one and put it on to spin, turning and hauling your suitcase onto your bed. As you rifle through your sweaters, tossing the ones you want to take with you onto your bed, you let your mind wander to Daniel. 

The thoughts that you’d been pushing away since Thanksgiving threatened to overwhelm you. You’re down bad. Rose’s words fill your head as you fold a pair of leggings and tuck them into your bag. You let out a heavy sigh, dragging a hand over your face. It was supposed to be casual. No strings attached. You weren’t supposed to feel like this. 

But you couldn’t deny the way the hint of disappointment in his eyes earlier had made you feel. The way his shoulders relaxed when you assured him you’d be there. The way you could feel him watching you while you took your exam. You finish arranging clothes in your bag and zip your suitcase closed, leaving only your toiletries and electronics to be packed before you leave on Sunday. 

When you finally emerge from your room, you spot Rose on the couch curled up on her phone with a bottle of wine and two glasses on the coffee table. You smile and plop down next to her, pointing to the glasses and saying, “I hope one of those is for me.”

“I figured you could use something to unwind from all the frustrated sighing I heard coming from your room,” she says as she looks up from her phone. Your cheeks flush and you grab the bottle, filling both glasses and handing one to Rose. You clink your glasses together and take a sip, sighing and leaning back against the couch. 

“Yeah, those sighs,” she adds, nudging you with her elbow. You glance sidelong at her and roll your eyes as you start recounting what happened with Daniel, telling her how you’ve been feeling since you got back from break.

“Rose, he actually looked disappointed when he thought I might not go tomorrow,” you say, emptying your glass and leaning forward to pour yourself another.

“Isn’t that a good thing?” She asks, holding her glass out for you to top her off. You blow a laugh through your nose and fill her glass before returning the bottle to the coffee table.

“Is it?” You ask as you tuck one leg underneath you and turn to face her, propping your elbow on the back of the couch and resting your head on your hand. “I mean, I’m the one who said this could only be physical.” You pinch the bridge of your nose, continuing, “And he very plainly said no falling in love, which I laughed at at the time. And here I am…”

You trail off, staring into your wine for a moment before drinking half of it in one gulp. Another deep sigh leaves you and you let your head fall dramatically against your arm.

“Here you are, what?” Rose prods, peering at you over her glass as she takes a sip.

“I’m not saying it, I’m not putting it into the universe,” you say, shaking your head, and setting your glass on the table. “I’m not gonna lose him because I’m reading into things that may or may not even be there.” 

Rose raises her eyebrows at your last statement and her lips twitch into a smirk for a second before she curbs her reaction. You grab one of the throw pillows behind you and bury your face in it, muffling the groan that comes out. 

“If you having feelings is something that scares him off, do you really want him?” She asks, stretching her legs out in front of her, one ankle crossed over the other. 

“Unfortunately, yes,” you mumble, face still buried in the pillow.

“But you want more than what you have right now?”

“I don’t know what I want,” you say, lifting your head and finding her staring at you with an eyebrow quirked. “I just know that I want him, so if this is what I have to do to have him, then fine.”

Rose opens her mouth to say something, probably to ask another prying question, but you cut her off, saying, “Rose, I don’t think I can keep talking about this without crying. And I don’t want to cry about this.”

“Wanna order food and watch a movie?” She says brightly, knowing it would cheer you up and keep you distracted. You thank her with a look and pull out your phone to open Doordash, the two of you sitting side by side to look together. After you settle on pizza and place the order, you turn the TV on and scroll through Netflix, picking a thriller neither of you had seen or heard of.

· · ──────── ·𖥸· ───────── · ·

Afternoon sunlight streams through your windows, forcing you to squint as you open your eyes. You and Rose had both fallen asleep on the couch, your best friend waking you at some point when she got up to go to her bed. A glance at the clock on your nightstand tells you it’s 2 pm and the quiet hum of music and the slide of a drawer across the hall tell you Rose is awake. You sit up and stretch your arms over your head, a slight twinge of pain from falling asleep on the couch making you wince slightly as you get out of bed and walk over to Rose’s room.

“What time did we go to bed last night?” You ask through a yawn, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you lower yourself into her desk chair.

“Like 2 am,” she says, glancing over at you as she packs a pair of sweatpants. “The movie wasn’t thrilling enough to keep either of us awake, apparently,” she adds with a laugh.

“Clearly,” you say, laughing with her. Your eyes drift to her suitcase and you sigh, remembering that her family is going away for Christmas this year. “This is the first Christmas Eve our families won’t be together,” you comment as she folds a bikini up.

“I know,” she says, a hint of sadness in her voice. “We’ll be home for New Year’s though!” You smile at this, already excited for the party at her family’s lake house.

“Oh, I hope it blizzards again like the first year,” you say, fond memories of the weekend your families spent snowed in together drifting through your mind.

“That was the best year,” she agrees, zipping her suitcase up and setting an empty duffle bag next to it. “Hopefully all the festivities keep your mind off you-know-who. You need a distraction.”

“Thanks for the reminder,” you say sarcastically, rolling your eyes and standing up. “I’m gonna go dissociate in the shower now.” Rose giggles as you walk away, stopping in your room to grab your robe before you walk down the hall to the bathroom, closing the door behind you. 

You strip out of your shorts and the Foo Fighters shirt you still haven’t given back yet, tossing your clothes into a pile by the door. Daniel had told you to keep the shirt, but something felt wrong about that. He isn’t your boyfriend, so there’s no reason to have his clothes, but you have to admit you’ve been enjoying sleeping in it. It’s just a shirt, right?

You do a decent job distracting yourself for a few hours before you have to get ready, but now you’re standing in your mirror staring at yourself, thinking about what Daniel might be wearing. “I am pathetic,” you mumble, shaking your head at yourself despite the smile on your lips. Your eyes drift over your reflection and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, feeling good about your look. You had gone with a pair of black wide-leg jeans, a black bodysuit, and a green knit cardigan. Once you added your tan Chelsea boots, the outfit came together. 

“Don’t you look academic,” Rose says, leaning in the doorway smiling. You giggle and shake your head, stepping away from the mirror. 

“It’s winter and we’re going to a jazz club,” you remind her, grabbing your phone from your bed and slipping your crossbody around you. You glance at your phone, checking to see when the Uber would be there. 

“If you let me finish I was gonna say in a hot way,” she laughs as you nudge her out into the living room. “In a hurry to see your man?”

“The Uber is almost here,” you say, drawing out the last syllable as you walk out into the hallway, pausing for Rose to join you. “You look good too by the way, red is your color,” you add as you turn to lock the door, nodding to the red sweater she has on. 

“We look very festive,” she points out and giggles as the two of you step into the elevator. You walk out to the front of your building as your driver pulls up and you hop in, confirming your name with him and opening your texts with Daniel.

To: Daniel🥁

On our way!

You tuck your phone into your pocket and sit back, your hands fidgeting in your lap. “Gonna try to go home with Sam tonight?” You tease, glancing at Rose out of the corner of your eye. She grins and shrugs innocently.

“We’ll see,” she says, “You gonna try and bring Daniel back here?”

You stare at her for a moment, her staring back with an eyebrow raised. “Even if I tried,” you begin, shrugging as you add, “He wouldn’t.” You try to act like that doesn’t bother you, sure that Rose sees through it. But if she does, she doesn’t say it, she just gives you a sympathetic smile.

The driver pulls up to the curb outside of the club and you and Rose climb out, thanking him as you close the door. You and Rose walk inside and you spot Daniel immediately. 

He’s standing on stage with his back to you, leaning on the piano and talking to Sam, who is sitting on the piano bench. The sleeves of his sweater are pushed up to his elbows and, as your eyes trail over the rest of him, you swear you can see a line of another tattoo on the back of his ankle. As if he can tell you walked in, he glances over his shoulder, making eye contact with you and smiling. 

Rose nudges you in the side with her elbow and you break your stare with Daniel to glance at her. “Well, go on,” she says, nodding her head towards the tables at the front of the stage. You take a deep breath and walk further into the space, stopping when you get to one of the front tables. Daniel hops down off the stage and walks over to you, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you into him as he drops his head to kiss your cheek.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he says as he straightens. “Hi Rose,” he says, lifting his free hand in greeting.

“Hey Daniel,” she returns, sitting down at the table, her eyes flicking to yours for a second.

“Sam!” He calls over the sound of Sam practicing, looking over his shoulder and waving his friend over. Sam stops and gets up, dropping to sit on the edge of the stage. 

“Yes?” Sam asks, raising an eyebrow at Daniel.

“Sam, this is Y/N,” Daniel says, gesturing to you and then to your best friend, “And this is Rose.” 

You and Rose both raise a hand to wave, both of you chirping, “Hi Sam.”

Sam smiles at you both, but his eyes linger on Rose for a beat too long. You smirk to yourself as you watch them try not to stare at each other. “Nice to meet you both,” he says, his eyes wandering back to Rose. “My dog’s name is Rosebud, but we call her Rose.”

Your best friend smiles and laughs, “It’s a great name, what can I say?”

Daniel glances back and forth between Sam and Rose, his own lips twitching into a smirk that matches yours as he squeezes his arm around you lightly. You look up at him and meet his eyes for a moment before he leans down and presses a kiss to your lips. He pulls back and studies your eyes briefly before straightening and saying to you and Rose, “We have to check a couple more things and then I’ll be down to sit with you guys.”

With that Sam returns to the piano and Daniel hops back up on the stage, kneeling down to check some wires. You take the seat to Rose’s left, leaving a seat on her right as well as one on your left. 

“Yeah,” Rose says as you sit down. “I’m trying to go home with him tonight.”

You smack her leg playfully and laugh, “I don’t blame you considering he still can’t keep his eyes off you.” You point subtly to Sam, whose eyes drift to Rose again as Daniel says something to him.

“Sam,” Daniel says, rolling his eyes and clearing his throat. Sam’s attention snaps back to Daniel as he repeats what he said, Sam nodding in agreement.

“Look what you did,” you tease Rose. “You got him yelled at.” Rose’s cheeks flush lightly and she smiles.

Once they’re finished setting up and sound-checking, Daniel hops back down off the stage and walks over to your table. “I’m gonna go grab drinks. Rose?” He says, looking at her.

“Oh,” she says, caught off guard. “Just a vodka soda.”

“Okay,” Daniel says, turning his eyes to you and raising an eyebrow. “Y/N?”

“Gin and tonic for me,” you say, suppressing the shiver that threatens at the base of your spine every time he says your name. 

He nods and your eyes follow him as he walks to the bar, a soft smile on your lips. You can see him making friendly conversation with the bartender and you find yourself wondering what he’s saying as he gestures towards your table and glances back at you. He winks as he catches your gaze and you feel your face and chest flush, turning your attention to your hands in your lap.

“So he calls you pet names and kisses you on the cheek and introduces you to his best friend and you’re just supposed to not have feelings for him?” Rose asks, her tone hushed as she raises an eyebrow at you. You wave your hand as if you could swat her words out of the air.

“Rose,” you warn, shaking your head and rolling your shoulders to release some of the tension. 

“Fine,” she says, drawing the word into a whine and holding her hands up in surrender. She lowers her hands as Daniel walks back to the table, setting your drinks down before taking the seat to your left. Your heart skips as he drops his hand to rest on your thigh, tracing slow circles with his thumb. 

You and Rose chat casually as you sip your drinks. Rose talks about her directing final and how her group got the best notes from their professor out of their whole class. You explain your thesis for your moral philosophy paper, Daniel squeezing your thigh lightly when you mention pivoting from deontology to consequentialism.

“Smart choice,” he says, winking at you when you look up at him. You watch as he brings his glass to his lips and takes a sip of his whiskey, his tongue darting across his lips as he lowers the glass again. You breathe out a sigh of relief as Sam steps onto the stage and sits behind the piano, flashing a bright smile to the crowd before his fingers start to dance over the keys, his eyes drifting closed. 

The opening to Smoke Gets In Your Eyes fills the space, mixing with the soft chatter coming from other tables, and Daniel’s hand stills on your leg as you both glance at Rose to find her eyes fixed on Sam. A smirk tugs at the corners of your lips and you turn your attention back to Sam as the song comes to an end, the music replaced with applause. His eyes open, a soft smile on his lips as he brings them to the microphone.

“Hi everyone, thanks for coming out tonight,” he says, looking down at your table and smiling. “And thanks to my friend, Daniel, for helping me get set up tonight.”

Daniel smiles and lifts his glass towards Sam, who returns the gesture with the drink he has sitting on the piano. They both take a sip and smile.

“Anyways, you all know I like to play more than I like to talk,” he continues. “So sit back, relax, and enjoy.” And with that, his fingers return to the keys, sound filling the room once more. 

About an hour goes by and Sam smiles as he brings another song to a close, this time Skating In Central Park. His eyes drift to Rose and you catch her shy from his gaze out of the corner of your eye.

“Alright, I’m gonna take a little break here, but I’ll be back,” Sam says, grabbing his glass from the piano and walking off the stage. He appears at your table and leans on the back of the empty seat next to Rose. 

“I’m gonna go fill up,” he says, raising the empty glass and glancing around the table. “Can I get anyone a refill?” You and Daniel both shake your heads, but Rose smiles and pushes her seat back. 

“I was gonna get another, I’ll come with you,” she says, standing up and winking at you quickly before she and Sam walk to the bar together.

“I think if I hadn’t disappeared with you that night,” you start, your eyes drifting towards the hallway where you and Daniel had gone back in August. “She would have disappeared with him.” 

He blows a laugh through his nose and squeezes your thigh firmly, drawing a soft sigh from your lips. He leans over to speak in your ear, putting his arm around you and keeping his voice low as he says, “Careful angel, I might have to take you back there for a little reminiscing.”

You shiver as his lips brush the shell of your ear, squeezing your thighs together as his words course through you. You would hate the power he has over you if it didn’t make you feel like the only person in the room. 

He smirks and sits back in his seat as Sam and Rose return and you look up at them, noting how Sam has his hand on Rose’s lower back as she walks a step ahead of him. She beams at you as she sits down, taking a sip of her drink and letting her eyes follow Sam back to the stage.

“He asked me to get a drink with him after the show,” she says, leaning over to whisper to you as Sam steps onto the stage and the crowd applauds. You grin and squeeze her arm, excited for her to get her moment with Sam.

“Told ya I’d be back,” he says into the microphone as he sits down, smiling and winking at Rose. You look between the two of them and then at Daniel, who smirks at you before turning his attention to Sam as he starts another song. 

You try to follow his lead and pay attention, but Daniel’s hand is on your leg again, his fingers pressing into your inner thigh. You let your eyes flutter closed for a brief moment and look at Daniel when you open them, only to find him casually watching Sam play. As you turn your eyes back to the stage, Daniel’s hand drifts further up your thigh. You whip your head to look at him and, while he still doesn’t look at you, you catch his lips twitch into a smirk.

You huff and roll your eyes, turning back to watch Sam bring the song to a close and roll right into another. Daniel brushes his fingers along the center seam of your jeans. It’s just the ghost of a touch, but it still forces a shaky breath from you as arousal tightens your abdomen. And as soon as it’s there, it’s gone as he lifts his hand and traces one finger along the crease where your leg joins your hip. His hand doesn’t return to your thigh again, instead resting on the back of your chair as he puts his arm around your shoulders casually.

Sam plays through a few more songs without addressing the crowd, but as what seems to be the last of the medley closes, he brings his lips to the mic and says, “I want to thank you all for coming out again.”

“I’m gonna wrap things up here, but if you’ve seen me before you know I never leave a show without playing this next song,” he says as he begins the opening of Rhapsody In Blue.

You watch Sam’s eyes close, his fingers knowing where each key is on their own, and let your eyes do the same. Your lips tug into a soft smile as each note washes over you, as you lose yourself in the song, and before you know it the song ends and the crowd applauds. Sam stands and gives an exaggerated bow before leaving the stage.

“That was incredible,” Rose gushes as Sam returns to your table. “You didn’t even have to look.”

“I’ve been playing that song for a long time,” Sam laughs and runs a hand through his hair. Rose’s cheeks flush and she smiles, glancing at you and Daniel.

“Great show, Sam,” you say with a smile.

“Sounded great, bud,” Daniel adds, his hand resting on your shoulder. “Let’s get this torn down so we can get out of here.”

“So,” Rose says, turning to you as Sam and Daniel hop up on the stage. “How are you getting Daniel back to our apartment?”

You glance towards him as he works on wrapping a cord back up and sigh. “I’ll just remind him that we won’t see each other for a month,” you say, shrugging casually and smiling. “And how are you getting Sam to take you back to his place?”

“Well I can’t exactly go back to our place with you and sexy professor there,” she says, winking at you and glancing up at the stage as Sam looks over his shoulder at her. “I don’t think I’ll have to do much convincing.”

You fall into a fit of giggles and continue chatting as you both steal glances up at Sam and Daniel. Since most of the equipment is the clubs, it doesn’t take them long to reset the stage and return to your table.

“So, how about that drink, Rose?” Sam asks, offering her his hand.

“Lead the way, Sam,” she says, taking his hand and leaving the table with him. She casts a look over her shoulder at you and winks, smiling as she turns back and they head for the door together.

“And then there were two,” Daniel says from behind you, grabbing your hand to pull you into him. You turn to face him as his hand falls to rest on your lower back and you look up at him, a smile on your lips. “Hi, baby.”

“Hi Daniel,” you say softly, pushing onto your toes to press your lips to his. His arm tightens around your waist as he kisses you back, his tongue sliding across your bottom lip before he lifts his head and smiles down at you. “Thanks for inviting us, we had a good time.”

“Anytime,” he says, his gaze darting to your lips and back to your eyes. “Come on, let me drive you home.”

You grin and nod, turning to walk towards the door. Daniel’s hand wraps around yours as you leave together, rounding the corner to where his car is parked. You slip into the passenger seat, smiling to yourself as he gets in and starts it up. 

“It’s a left at the li-” you start, but you’re cut off.

“I remember,” he says simply, the implication of him remembering how to get to your apartment after one time making your head spin.

“Okay,” you whisper as you force away the thoughts that pop into your head. It’s really not that big of a deal. It’s not like the directions are difficult. He lives here year-round, he’s familiar with the city. It’s not that big of a deal.

Daniel pulls into a parking spot in front of your building and you both sit silently for a moment, the soft mumbling of the radio the only sound. You glance up at your building before you turn to look at Daniel, biting your lip.

“Do you want to come up?” You ask, your heart pounding in your chest. Before the last word could fully leave your lips, Daniel takes the key out of the ignition.

“I was just waiting for you to invite me,” he says casually, opening his door and getting out. You blow out a breath and smile to yourself for a moment before you climb out. He pauses on the sidewalk to wait for you and lets you walk a step in front of him as you swipe into the building. 

As you wait for the elevator in silence, Daniel lets his hand rest on your lower back, stroking his thumb absentmindedly. The elevator dings and the doors slide open. As they slide closed with the two of you inside, Daniel turns to face you and guides you back against the wall, his hand gripping your waist. You gasp as your shoulders bump the wall and you look up at him through your lashes.

“I love it when you look at me like that,” he says, bringing his hand up to brush your hair back from your face and cup your cheek. You feel your face heat and your heart pound as he stares down at you, his lips curved into a smirk. You open your mouth to speak, but the doors open and Daniel pushes away from you to let you lead. Slipping your key into the lock, you open the door to your apartment and flick the lights on. 

“Sorry, it’s a little messy,” you say, looking around the living room. “We’ve been packing for break.”

Daniel waves dismissively as he slips his shoes off, leaving them near the door, and wraps his hand around yours. He pulls you in and presses his lips to yours, the kiss slow and gentle as you part your lips for him and he brushes his tongue over yours. 

“You gonna miss me?” He asks when he pulls away, his hand sliding over your ass and squeezing firmly. He holds your body against his and you can feel him, already hard.

“I think you’re gonna miss me,” you muse, smiling up at him innocently. You sigh softly as he drops his head to bring his lips to your neck. He brushes your hair off of your shoulder and you feel his teeth nip the spot where your neck meets your shoulder.

“Daniel,” you say softly, the sound half sigh, half moan. He hums against your skin as his hands slide your cardigan off your shoulders, the garment falling to your feet. His lips continue down to your collarbone, teeth grazing your skin lightly and sending a chill down your spine.

“I’m gonna miss that,” he says, his breath ghosting over your skin as he brings his lips to your ear. “The way you say my name.”

You fight the shiver that builds at the base of your spine and you bring your fingers to rest under Daniel’s chin, pressing your fingers up to make him meet your eyes.

“Make me do more than say it,” you say softly, taking his hand and leading him back to your bedroom. As you cross the threshold of the room, Daniel tugs on your hand, bringing you back against him. He leads you into the room until the back of your legs hits the edge of your bed, forcing you to sit. He lays his phone on your nightstand and you stare down at him as he kneels down to take your boots off for you, followed by your socks.

“What are you-” you start, but he cuts you off with simply a look. You close your mouth and watch as he rises, his fingers dragging up your legs until they reach the button on your jeans. He pops the button and draws the zipper down, motioning for you to stand, which you do without a word.

Daniel sinks to his knees again as he hooks his thumbs in your belt loops, dragging your jeans down your legs and pausing for you to step out of them. He looks up at you and smirks, his hands roaming from your calves and up the backs of your thighs. You let out a quiet moan as his fingertips dig into your flesh, a wave of arousal pulsing through you.

When Daniel stands again, he guides you to the center of the bed and lays you down, hovering over you as his hand drifts between your legs. He pops the snaps of your body suit one by one, holding your gaze until the third snap pops open. You whine when he doesn’t touch you, but brings his hand up to drag each strap down your arms, revealing you inch by inch until he drags the body suit down your legs and tosses it on the floor.

“Fuck,” he hisses through clenched teeth, taking in the deep plum-colored set you’re left lying in. “I’m definitely gonna miss this,” he adds, his finger hooking under the strap of your bra and letting it snap against your skin. The feeling draws a whine from you and you try not to squirm under his intense gaze. 

“Sit up,” Daniel instructs, hunger dancing in his eyes. You do as he says and he reaches behind you, making quick work of the clasp of your bra and clicking his tongue as it slides down your arms. He tosses it on the floor with your other clothing and guides you back down onto the bed, hovering over you and kissing you for just a second before he begins to trail kisses down your throat. Across your collarbones. Between your breasts.

“I’m gonna miss this,” he says before pinching your nipple between his teeth, dragging his tongue over it a second later. Your back arches in response and you gasp, and Daniel blows a laugh through his nose, the rush of air making you shiver. 

“Daniel,” you whisper as he sucks a mark into the skin just below your breast. “Please.”

“Please what, sweetheart?” He asks as he kisses down your abdomen, goosebumps following where his lips brush.

“Touch me,” you plead, pushing up on your elbows to meet his eyes just before he sucks a mark onto your inner thigh.

“I will, don’t worry,” he says, pressing a kiss over the already purpling spot. He makes a twin mark on your other thigh and you fight the urge to brush his curls out of his face, the urge to tangle your fingers in his hair and pull him to where you need him. As if he can sense your growing frustration, he drags a finger over the lace covering your core. You can almost hear the smirk as he groans, “Always so fucking wet for me.”

Daniel hooks his fingers in the waistband of your thong and slides it down your legs, leaving you fully bare to him. He sits up for a moment, taking in the sight of you before he tugs his sweater off, leaving him in a tight-fitted black t-shirt. He lowers himself back between your legs and slowly drags his tongue through your core, his lips wrapping around your clit as you gasp and clutch the sheets in your fist.

“As sweet as ever,” he says, lifting his head only long enough to praise you. His arms wrap under your legs, pulling you to his mouth as his tongue attacks your bundle of nerves. A brief pause, a tap on your outer thigh. “Up,” he says, guiding your hips up and slipping a pillow under you before sinking back between your legs.

“Daniel,” you moan as he buries his face in your pussy, his nose brushing your clit as your hips jerk involuntarily. Your head falls back, your hand slipping into Daniel’s hair as he devours you like you’re his last meal. The familiar tension in your abdomen builds as he works you closer and closer to the edge, his lips returning to your clit, teeth grazing the spot lightly as he slowly presses a finger into you and curls it forward. 

“Daniel, I’m-” you pant, your thighs trembling as your control starts to slip.

“Let it go, baby,” he whispers, adding a second finger with the first. “Give it to me.”

Your orgasm crashes over you, your toes curling as your walls flutter around his fingers. You cry out as your back arches off the bed and your vision blurs as he works you through it, his fingers curling inside of you slowly. “Good girl,” he whispers, pressing feather-light kisses to the inside of your thigh. 

As you start to come down, Daniel kisses his way back up your body, stopping when he’s over you and pressing a hungry kiss to your lips. He reaches behind his head and grabs his shirt to tug it off but you stop him with a hand planted on his chest. Your fingers move to the hem of his shirt and you tug it up and over his head, tossing it to the floor and returning your hand to the center of his chest. 

He raises an eyebrow at you as you push him gently, staring up at him with a smirk on your face. Begrudgingly he moves to lay on his back and you move to hover over him, capturing his lips in another slow, deep kiss. Your tongues tangle and you feel him grip your waist. You lift your head and meet his eyes, smiling sweetly.

“My turn,” you whisper, your lips brushing soft kisses to his jaw and down his neck. You drag your teeth over his collarbone, smiling to yourself as Daniel drags in a breath, his fingers twitching where they grip your waist. Your fingers trail down his chest and abdomen as you sit back on your knees between his legs, just wanting to look at him spread out on your bed. You smirk and bite your lip as your fingers undo his belt and pants, sliding them down over his hips as he lifts up slightly, propping himself up on his elbows to watch you.

You drop his pants to the floor and slide back over him, your lips wandering down his chest. Your fingers trace along the waistband of his boxer briefs as you drop kisses lower and lower. You brush your hand over his cock, hard and throbbing beneath the black fabric, and smirk as his hips buck up.

“Y/N,” Daniel warns. You look up at him through your eyelashes and smile sweetly, bringing your lips to the spot just below his navel. He groans and lets his head fall back, his eyes closing. 

“Such a tease,” he growls. You bite your lip and drag your tongue along the line of muscle that disappears beneath his waistband as you push his briefs down, letting them fall to the floor before you settle between his legs.

He lifts his head, meeting your eyes the moment before your tongue glides up his length, and his mouth falls open as he drops his head back down, his fingers darting into your hair. You blow a laugh through your nose and smirk, flicking your tongue at his tip and drawing a moan from his chest. 

You wrap your hand around the base of him, slowly sinking your mouth over his cock, taking each inch of him until his tip brushes the back of your throat. With a glance up, you find him propped on his elbows again, watching his length slide past your lips.

“I’m gonna miss this,” he says, gathering your hair into a ponytail in his hand. “So fucking pretty with your lips wrapped around my cock.”

You hum around him and slowly draw back, your tongue dragging along the vein that runs his length. Your hand replaces your mouth as you pull all the way back, swirling your tongue around the tip and smiling up at him.

“A picture lasts,” you say, lowering your mouth back onto him and winking. Daniel raises an eyebrow at you, a silent question. You hum around him in confirmation and draw your head back again before sinking back down. 

“Fucking hell, Y/N,” he growls, reaching to the nightstand for his phone and opening the camera. He focuses it on you and snaps a photo as you glide your tongue flat along the underside of his cock. You feel your cheeks heat and you lower your mouth over him again, taking his full length into your mouth and moaning around him.

“Fuck,” Daniel moans as he hits the back of your throat again. “If you keep doing that I’m not gonna last, sweetheart.”

You ignore him and continue, setting a slow pace, taking every inch of him every time you slide your lips over him. The next time you lift your mouth from him, his hand drops your hair and wraps around your throat, his fingers pressing into the sides of your neck gently.

“Something wrong?” You ask, your voice dripping with lust as you look at him through hooded eyes. 

“Lay down,” he says, his fingers moving to grip your chin.

“I wasn’t done,” you challenge, meeting his eyes defiantly. He smirks and clicks his tongue before easily guiding you onto your back, leaving you breathless as he hitches your leg over his hip. Daniel leans forward, hovering over you with a smirk tugging at his lips.

“And I need to be inside of you,” he whispers as he rolls his hips, his cock gliding over your sensitive clit. You gasp softly, the sound cut off as Daniel captures your lips again, this kiss frenzied and hungry, all tangled tongues and nipping teeth. 

You break the kiss, your head falling back as Daniel pushes into you slowly, feeling every inch of his cock stretch you in the best way. His head falls into the crook of your neck and he buries himself to the hilt, his breath ragged against your skin as your walls flutter around him. 

“I’m gonna miss this,” Daniel whispers as he sets a slow pace, his hips rolling into yours. One hand grips your waist while the other grasps your breast, kneading your flesh as he fucks you slow and deep, every stroke drawing a moan from your lips. “You are so fucking soft.”

“Daniel,” you moan out, your voice breathy. He sucks at the sweet spot beneath your ear and groans against your skin as you squeeze around his cock. You whine softly as he pulls out of you and taps your hip.

“On your stomach,” he says, stroking his cock slowly as he stares down at you, your chest and face flushed as you turn over, dragging a pillow into your arms. He draws you up onto your knees with a hand under your hip and you bury your face into the pillow as his cock glides through your folds before slipping back into you.

“So fucking sexy,” he moans, brushing his hand down your back as he resumes a slow pace. “So pretty and perfect.”

You cry out into the pillow as his tip brushes your cervix, the new angle making your thighs tremble. He slides his hand under you and lifts you up so you’re on your knees, your back pressed firmly to his chest as he continues fucking into you. One hand drifts down to circle your clit slowly, his palm pressing into your lower abdomen, and his other hand snakes between your breasts to wrap around your throat.

“You told me you didn’t just want to say my name,” he whispers, nipping at the shell of your ear. “So fucking scream it.” 

Daniel’s hips snap forward harshly, his fingers attacking your swollen bud. It’s all you can do not to crumble right there in his arms, feeling your second orgasm hurtling towards you, and you toss your head back against his shoulder, his hand tightening around your throat. This new angle drags the tip of his cock against your sweet spot and his quick pace makes your head spin as you try to focus on every sensation at the same time.

“Fuck, Daniel!” You cry out, your eyes squeezing shut, as your orgasm wrecks you. Daniel holds you firmly against his chest, never slowing his pace as he fucks you through your climax. Curses mingle with his name in the air as you shudder against him, your entire body feeling like a live wire.

“Just like that, baby,” he whispers into your hair, bringing his hand from your clit and resting it on your abdomen. He strokes your skin gently, lowering you back down to the bed and pulling out just long enough to put you on your back again. “Wanna see that pretty face when I finish,” he says, smirking as he pushes back into you. You see his eyes trail over you, pausing for a beat longer at where your bodies are joined and he smirks, grabbing his phone and snapping another photo of you.

“A picture lasts,” he teases, repeating your words from before as he runs his hand up your thigh and grips your hip, pulling you into each thrust.

You hook a leg around him as his rhythm starts to stutter and his face twists in pleasure. He drops his head to suck your nipple into his mouth as he fucks you, his teeth clamping around the bud. Your fingers tangle in his hair, savoring every single sensation as if this was the last time, and you tug on his curls gently, bringing his lips to yours.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he moans against your lips as his hips stutter again, his orgasm crashing over him. With a hand on your hips, he thrusts into you harshly, his cock twitching as his release coats your walls. He buries his face between your breasts and pants heavily, his warm breath tickling your skin as you stroke his hair. 

“You,” Daniel mumbles against your skin. “Are so fucking perfect.” He rolls to lay next to you, catching his breath for a moment before he turns onto his side and props his head on his hand, studying you quietly. 

“Come on,” you say finally, a lazy smile spreading across your face as you meet his eyes, his free hand tracing slow patterns on your skin. You take his hand and get up, steadying yourself on shaky legs before leading him down the hall to the bathroom. 

After the water heats up, you pull him into the shower with you, letting the water wash over your shoulders and sighing deeply. You clean each other up, Daniel’s hand drifting between your legs gently, sending a chill down your spine. 

As you turn to rinse the suds from your hair, Daniel dips his head, capturing your lips for a brief, soft moment. You look up at him, your heart skipping a beat as you think about how gentle he’d been with you all night. Even at Sam’s show. Before you have too much time to think, Daniel steps out and holds the curtain back for you as you step out as well, grabbing a towel and handing it to him before grabbing one for yourself. 

“I kinda wish I could just stay here for break,” you admit quietly as you slip into a pair of shorts and a t-shirt and slide under your covers. Daniel’s lips curve into a smile for a brief moment before it’s gone and he bends down to pick up his boxer briefs, sliding the black fabric up over his hips.

“What’s this?” He asks, studying one of the pictures on your dresser. You sit up in bed, squinting at the picture, and smile fondly.

“That’s me and Rose when we were kids,” you explain. You tell him about the New Year’s party her family hosts at their lake house as he lifts the covers and slides into bed next to you. 

“The first year they invited my family we got snowed in at the house for an extra 3 days,” you sigh, smiling at the picture of you and Rose in the fort you’d built one afternoon. 

When your gaze drifts back to meet Daniel’s, you find him watching you thoughtfully and you tilt your head to the side, raising an eyebrow. “Penny for your thoughts?”

He blows a laugh through his nose and shakes his head, pulling you into him, your back to his chest. “It’s late,” he says as he slips an arm under your head, his other arm wrapped around your waist, fingers drifting under the hem of your shirt to rest on your stomach.

“It’s late,” you parrot, wiggling into a more comfortable position and letting out a deep sigh. It’s not long before you hear Daniel’s breathing slow and even out as he drifts off, leaving you awake in his arms. In your bed.

You hadn’t even asked him to spend the night, he’d just slipped into bed with you. Like it was an instinct. Your head spins with dangerous thoughts. Maybe he does want more with you. He’d been so willing to break rules lately. There’s no way he’d be acting this way if he didn’t at least feel a little bit of what you had been feeling, right?

Fuck, you think. Maybe you’re in over your head. Maybe you’re delusional and this is just how he is when he’s comfortable with someone. Maybe this all means nothing. But what if it doesn’t?

· · ───────── ·𖥸· ───────── · ·

chapter vi

Taglist:

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[shockinglysubmissive]

Day 6: Collaring

Roronoa Zoro x GN!Reader

Warnings: dom/sub dynamic, use of the term 'owning', subtle pantie kink

You couldn't help it. You have always felt drawn to the black bandana tied around your boyfriend's broad arm. Hell. You weren't sure how it still fit around the muscles. After so many years of training, every inch of his body was converted to pure muscle and swordsmanship. It would be a lie to say you weren't staring at his muscles. But right now, it's still that damned black bandana that has your attention.

It was a piece of him he always carried with him. Something that you wanted. You never really hid the fact you wanted to take his bandana. He had even bought you one of your own. But it wasn't the same. The material hasn't been stretched and softened from the years of use. So, caving to those pretty eyes of yours, he finally gives you what you've been dreaming of. Even if it wasn't entirely how you expected it to go.

"Alright. Since you want it so bad, here. But there is one rule. You're not allowed to untie it. Ever. Only I am." His voice is firm as he takes your arm. He is being surprisingly gentle as he wraps the soft black fabric around your arm. You look down at it. Finally. It was yours. But never being able to take it off? That's not plausible. He can sense the concern radiating off of you. "Think of this as my way of owning you. I'll be the only one who can take it off. Don't worry. I'll help you take it off so you can shower. But as soon as you get out, I am trying it back on." Dropping your arm, he admires how it looks on you.

"You want people to know I am yours?" You question. The two of you have never been a secret. But still, the only people who knew were the rest of the crew. This bandana has become a staple of Roronoa's look. People who know you are in the crew together and see the bandana around your arm will instantly know. The thought makes your stomach fill with butterflies. It was like you were a teenager again. "But what if I want people to know you are mine?" You question in a slightly teasing manner.

"Then it looks like you will just have to give me something recognizable of yours. Or, maybe a cute pair of panties that I can use to replace where the bandana was." You aren't sure if he is kidding or not, but the thought of the fearsome Pirate Hunter with a nice pair of panties wrapped around his arm piqued your interest. Maybe you would have to take him up on that suggestion.

[randomshyperson]

Shadow Preachers - Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: In a reality where the blipped ones were the ones who stayed, Wanda loses you for five years. The reunion doesn't go exactly as planned, because now she is more than your girlfriend: she is the Scarlet Witch. And nothing will take away what she lost once.

Warnings: (+18), mild angst regarding the whole blip thing, alcohol consumption, language, established relationship, a lot of trauma buried, milf wanda controlling things, age gap, unintentional magical manipulation, darkhold drama, kissing and making out, a bunch of smut at the end with power plays, magical insemination (mild breeding kink?), some fluff, happy(ish) ending. | Words: 7.415k.

A/N-> Old idea that took a while to write, but here we are. This is not angst, I promise! But there are moments of dubious morals, and that's all the fault of the darkhold and how much Wanda should have gone to therapy and not a witchcraft house. Anyway, happy reading. I hope you were as reflective of the ending as I was (I don't know how to feel about this one so far). Please don’t flag the work, thank you.

General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad

–//–

It wasn't necessary, given the nature of her abilities, but the warm water was very welcome to relax her muscles, so Wanda dipped her face for a long moment. Back at the surface, she took a deep breath with her eyes still closed. She pushed away all the flashes of the battle that tried to fill her mind and breathed again and again until the panic and anxiety had completely dissipated and she could open her eyes to her own reflection.

The red of her hair was fading - There was no need, since the revocation of the Sokovia Accords, to keep up the appearance of a disguise. But even years later, Wanda still held the red color in her strands. She remembers someone teasing her about it, maybe Sam or Clint, but she could not have it removed. Yelena was probably the only one who understood why.

The water dried from her face like blood dried from her superficial bruises. The magic worked on her automatically, but if she wished, she could have held the cuts for a while longer. If she wished someone to clean her wounds. She missed that today for the first time in a long while.

The bathroom gave way to her old room as she stepped outside, toward the closet. She knew that the rest of the team was spread all around the building - she could feel their auras meters away now - but she wished she had her bags packed before any of these had the idea to look for her. 

The few clothes that belonged to her had been there for a few weeks. Just the time the others were preparing for the back-in-time trip: And it was honestly a miracle that this compound was still standing after the intensity of the conflicts. It was good luck that someone like her was present to tidy up the mess in the blink of an eye.

She had already folded a red jeans jacket when a knock at the door attracted her attention - She wasn't startled, because she had sensed your presence from the elevator. Every second closer.

When she looked up at you, you had your arms crossed and your waist resting on the doorframe. So casual and painfully charming that Wanda had to look away.

"Am I that awful at reunions?" You joked with a slight dramatization in your voice. Wanda's smile was small, but her heart was racing so fast that perhaps super-hearing allowed you to hear even from that distance. 

"I'm sorry." That's the only thing she can manage to answer about the punchline. Maybe, and most likely, that's not even what she's apologizing for. "I just... no longer part of this place."

"Yeah, I heard." You mutter, moving away from the door, more serious than before. No, sadder than before. With each step toward her, Wanda squeezes her clothes tighter. "Sammy mentioned what happened."

Wanda's heart clenches. She tries not to frown, or demonstrate her own total nervousness when you are face to face. "What... did he say? About what I did?" she inquires, worried. 

You look at her with curiosity only, shrugging casually. "He was vague on some kind of fight about three years ago. He said that you've made mistakes and that you've regretted them, and have been trying to be better. And that if I wanted to know more, I should ask you."

Wanda sighs, holding a folded shirt against her chest. Her gaze goes vacant, pensive. She imagines herself telling you, and as if the story didn't make her queasy enough, she still imagines the disappointment in your eyes.

In the present, however, she finds only tenderness in them. You give her a corner smile, half curious to know what has made her quiet, but Wanda clears her throat and puts her clothes away before turning her face to you again. "I can't, Y/N." She says, and the walls between you that she raises are almost physical. "I don't want to talk about the past. Especially not today."

You nod in understanding, a little frustrated by the whole thing but respectful about her own time and space. It's always been that way. It makes Wanda feel even more guilty.

"Can I at least give you a ride?" You suggest suddenly, your smile becoming more playful. Wanda clenches her hands together and remembers feeling this same smile against her cheeks, stomach, and thighs. "You know, to whatever place you're running off to, witchy..."

Your joke is not well received; It is not your fault at all. Wanda has been completely tense and on the defensive since you - and half the universe - reappeared.

"I'm not running away." She assures you as she cuts you off, her face serious and tired. You stop smiling. Wanda thinks she might throw up. "I just have a different life now."

She turns to close her bag, you fidget awkwardly. "Yeah, of course..." You murmur shyly, watching her. "I shouldn't have said that."

"It's fine." She assures you, and it sounds like a really bad lie. You look at her the same way you did when you first saw her, almost eight years ago, in a Hydra cell, and Wanda runs away like a frightened animal, holding her bag in her hands even though she is very used to using magic to do this kind of mundane activity now. She is at the door in record time but looks at you before she leaves. "Thank you, Y/N. For offering... the ride. Really. But I don't... actually need it."

She twirls her fingers, illustrating her sentence with scarlet sparks that make you chuckle slightly. The sound almost makes Wanda start to cry. She makes a portal appear before she really starts to in front of you.

"Wait." You practically beg before she can disappear. Wanda holds her breath. "When... Wanda, I want to..." It's frustrating, honestly. The whole situation, all the distance you're not used to having with her. Your attempt to ask her for something only makes Wanda more anxious, but in a way, she knows exactly what it is. You take a deep breath and take another small step forward. "I want you around, Wands. You know that right?"

She swallows dryly and nods. Her eyes are filled with tears.

"I know, detka." The nickname escapes her so naturally, it seems as if no time has passed. But knowing it has passed, like not finding age marks on your face, but on hers, makes her pull away. "I just need...a little more time. To get used to it, okay?"

You nod like a child, putting your hands in your pockets. "Of course, Wanda. Whatever you need."

The memories of the same speech, so many times and for so long before the blip, hit her hard. She breaks into a sob, profoundly. You despair, completely worried, but as soon as you make any mention of approaching to console her, Wanda shakes her head and wipes her face. A weak, hoarse goodbye is murmured, and she disappears into the portal she has opened and you are left alone.

Your chest aches with hurt and frustration on the way back to the living room. Of course, the cell phone in your pants wouldn't work after so long without paying for the service, so you don't even attempt a message. 

And getting the rest of what was once the Avengers you knew together doesn't make you feel any better seeing them in black, whispering stories to each other.

The memorial was a while ago, earlier, and now everyone was back in the tower. Some would go home, like Wanda or Barnes, but others like you had nowhere to go. Like Parker or Belova.

"Hey, Y/N." Natasha seemed surprised to see you there, assuming that your momentary disappearance would have resulted in the ride. But Wanda turned you down, and with the look, you threw her, Nat understood. She murmured polite apologies to Clint's family, all of whom were downcast and with faces smeared with dried tears, and went to join you near the kitchen counter. "You haven't had much luck with your witch, I suppose."

You hum annoyed, bending down to grab a bottle of booze from under the sink. Nat makes a soft grimace, nodding at the number of children present there. You ignore it and grab a glass for her as well.

When they are full, you raise yours. "Here's to our fallen friends, Romanoff." You say, and she sighs sadly, before raising her toast. 

The drink doesn't hurt more than losing Wanda, that's a fact.

"You look miserable." It is Yelena who says, as she appears in the kitchen, a second after the toast draws a grimace and a cough from you. She steals a glance at her sister, "Both of you, actually."

Your laugh is sad and husky. "You are very perceptive of the obvious Belova." You mock, filling your glass as Nat lets herself be enveloped in a tight hug from the blonde. You take another sip as they part. What they ask each other in Russian is probably a check on how everything was going. You are more interested in the drink. And with each drop of alcohol, your emotions surface further. "Was it something I said?" You question suddenly, and Nat and Yelena look at you immediately. "Was it... something I did?"

Nat sighs, taking the bottle and glass from you. "Okay, enough of that." She mutters, ignoring your protests. "I know you're not the type who wants to cause a scene at your friends' funeral memorial."

But you're crying regardless. No one really minds - Or comments about Yelena and Nat dragging you into the corridor.

You sit on the floor, one hand on your face and the other on your stomach. "Why... Doesn't she love me anymore?" You ask between sobs, trying to control your emotion. 

Yelena sighs impatiently. "God, are you stupid by any chance?"

"Yelena!" Nat represses, bending down to touch your knee and calm you down. "Hey, take a deep breath. It's okay, Y/N. Wanda... she just needs time-"

You give a wry, tearful laugh. "Five years wasn't enough?" You ironize between tears. 

"Come on..." Nat tries, but Yelena cringes too. Her look is more serious and determined than compressive.

"You don't know shit, Y/N." Says the blonde, ignoring the way her sister looks at her. "How do you think it's been these five years, huh? You, both of you, vanishing along with half the universe. It's been fucked up, okay? And some people made some really bad mistakes during this time. I... I missed Nat, a fucking lot. But I didn't have the magic to change that. Wanda did."

You make a confused face, "What the hell are you talking about?"

She sighs wearily. "You just need to understand that it was hell for those who stayed. You probably will when you get back to work, but right now... You just buried your friends, rest first. And Wanda, you have to understand that she needs time to accept that you are back. She... she's had to say goodbye to you too many times."

Yelena exchanges a look with Nat, clearly closing the subject, but you despair. "L-lena, wait... tell me! Tell me what happened-" You follow her as she gets up and walks away, begging and demanding until she grunts in irritation.

"She brought you back!" She declares suddenly. You and Nat both widen your eyes. Yelena sighs. "Damn... Look, I really think Wanda is the one who should-"

"How?" you demand exhausted. The blonde swallows dryly, but ends up sighing in defeat.

"I think Cap still keeps the Westview files." She mutters, nodding in the direction to be escorted. Nat mutters something about it still being weird to hear someone refer to Sam this way, but you're more interested in what the hell Westview is.

Nothing prepares you for the S.W.O.R.D. tapes.

–//–

Everything kept coming back in flashes, even as she struggled to keep the memories at bay.

Shuri's gauntlet, the stones, Clint's body.

You.

So happy. So innocent. Smiling at her as if it was still 2018 and you were still hers.

"I can't believe you disappeared on me in the middle of a fight, little witch."

Your voice made Wanda shudder from head to toe, and she would have started crying right there, running away from the battle just to hug you if it wasn't such an ugly fight.

Unlike the first time, they were much better prepared. They had the upper hand. 

Mildly Thor was not as experienced in battle, but just as strong as the original, and held the ground until Thor showed up with the rest of the blipped. Thanos's head was off before he could even think of the stones once more.

By the time you found her again, you had been told how many years had passed, and of course, you didn't waste another second before hugging Wanda. She hugged you back of course, without hesitation. But that was weeks ago in the heat of battle. Now reality was on your heads.

As a coven of unsympathetic witches, a team in conflict and a world in recovery.

Wanda had only been with the Chaos worshipers a short time. Just long enough to dull the effects of the darkhold in her head, the help is very welcome although her trust in Agatha is almost nil.

Helping the Avengers one last time, at the request of Strange and his irresponsible plan involving time travel was a long shot. But it worked. And Wanda had you back, and suddenly there was nothing left for the doomed to offer her.

Well, almost nothing.

Dreams involving her children haunted her at night. But well, since you've been back, Wanda hasn't done sleeping that much, so there's some advantage there.

She is trying a sleep potion when Agatha enters her chamber.

"You have visitors, Rapunzel."

She giggles at the nickname, not taking her eyes off her colleague's borrowed grimoire. "Don't call me that."

Agatha smiles, leaning on the door. "Well, you stay locked in the tower all the time and you have long hair... Also, you act like a spoiled little princess..."

"Fuck off, Agatha." Wanda retorts with a laugh, wiping her herb-soiled hands on a cloth. "Who's down there? Some sorcerer?"

The Harkness Residence was tricky - Especially in solstice season. With so much magical presence, Wanda would be overwhelmed to be in alert mode all the time. And for a house full of witches, she didn't expect to be able to detect them all the time.

Agatha shook her head. "Your other type of friends, honey." Said the older one. "Avenger. And pretty face." Comments the brunette, giving her a wink and leaving.

Wanda tries not to look like a complete mess as she makes her way downstairs. It doesn't work much when she finds you in the living room - Adorably poking at Agatha's magic clock.

"Hi." She practically gasps, her hands in front of her body. You turn your face and smile contently, waving your finger at the wooden item in front of you.

"Hey, sweetheart, have you seen this? It looks like the one from Harry Potter." It is so painfully casual that it almost leaves her speechless. Wanda has to remember that despite her early escape from the tower for some space, you still feel as if only a few weeks have passed since you last met. And not five years. "It's so cool." 

Wanda adjusts her messy strands of hair, moving closer to you and the clock. "How did you find me?"

You shrug, taking your attention away from the item entirely to turn to Wanda. "Avengers technology now has Kamar Taj tricks."

Stephen, of course. Wanda grimaces softly, making a mental note to reprimand him for charming equipment but all thoughts suddenly disappear.

You grab the front of her work apron, pulling her close and Wanda chokes on her own breath.

"Wands, I know it's been five years for you, but... I really miss kissing my girlfriend." You murmur, the narrowed eyes staring at her lips and making her face warm. Wanda has missed this so much that it aches, but she is overwhelmed by the sudden action. You don't move until you have permission. "I'll be happy with just a peck..."

"God, detka." She tries to formulate some sentences, and some thoughts, but all her body can focus on is your presence. Your face inches from hers, the smell of your perfume, your hand on her low back, and the firm grip that ensures she doesn't fall over because of her weak knees. 

Your forehead falls heavily on hers, and Wanda chokes out a very primal sound in her throat. She is ready to end all the longing against that colorful clock, on the living room rug or anywhere you want, when a voice interrupts the whole thing.

"Hello, love birds!" Agatha greets you cheerfully, smiling as you turn away from Wanda with a sigh. "I don't believe we've met, Miss..."

“Oh, you’re Agnes.” You say, and Wanda freezes. The older witch laughs in surprise, and you shake the hand she extends with a clumsy smile. "I mean if that is really your name? It was the only one on the recordings."

"Actually, I'm Agatha Harkness. Did you say record?-"

"Later." Wanda cuts off the older witch with a serious red-eyed look, and she begrudgingly swallows dryly all her questioning. Wanda turns to you, grabbing your hand before you have a chance to question what is going on.

Wanda's room impresses you. In fact, the entire Harkness residence does. It is clearly magical, much larger on the inside than the American house on the outside. You want to absorb every detail on a future tour, but right now, you're more interested in the witch dragging you inside and sitting you on her bed.

"Who told you?" she inquires in such a confused mixture of emotions that you can only assume they are not very good, by the tears in her eyes. Her door closes as soon as you enter, and you clear your throat awkwardly.

"It doesn't matter, Wands, I just know."

She grunts angrily. "I'm going to kill Yelena-"

You giggle. "Hey, don't read my mind." You grumble, watching her circle the room anxiously. "Little witch, relax, I'm not mad at you."

Wanda looks at you immediately. "I didn't expect anger." She clarifies with upset. "I thought...you'd be disappointed in me."

She looks down at her own feet, and you raise an eyebrow in disbelief. "Disappointed by the greatest demonstration of your power and how strong you've become? Don't be silly."

"I hurt people!" She retorts with emotion in her voice, annoyed that you are not acting as she has punished herself for so long. You sigh, adjusting yourself on the bed to remove the leather jacket that Wanda was pretty sure belonged to Natasha. 

"And people have hurt you." You argued. "Same old story, no? But you have...this strength in you, right? You lose control, that's part of the magic. No power comes for free. I know these things, Wands, remember? I know you. And I saw how you let them go the very second it happened. And that Rambeau woman filled the archives with notes in your defense about everything that happened, so I don't know why the whole big deal is..."

"I took a town hostage." She interrupts you seriously. "Those people...compared standing over my domain as agonizing torture...begged to die after seeing my dreams-"

"Yeah, insomnia sucks." You complete, shrugging and Wanda grunts in frustration. She looks away, putting her hands over her face and you lie on the bed, crossing your hands behind your neck. She sighs.

"Why... are you different?"

Her question fails to shake you as her other statements. You remain quiet and carefree. "Maybe you are the one who remembers me differently."

Wanda stares at you, but is thoughtful. She tries to organize her own memories. Before, during, and after Westview.

Only now, seeing you in her bed again, does she doubt what her mind created and what was real really.

"I remember you... kind." She tries, shadows passing through her eyes, moments in the compound from cooking together to transmitting confidence and support to her in practice. "Taking care of me and everyone else, honestly."

You chuckle, cheeks rosy. "Well, thank you, that's a very nice view of the facts." You murmur, looking at her in a way that always made her knees weak. "But I'm just normal, I guess? I work hard and generally act within the law, briefly speaking. But kind? It's nice to be called that."

"Detka-"

"There's the catch." You interrupt her with a smile, your gaze gleaming with mischief. "That's what I am, Wands. Your Detka.  Ever since I blew up half a Hydra to save you, that's what I've been. I appreciate that you see me as someone good, really. And maybe that's true because all I've done is be good to you."

 Wanda swallows dryly, approaching you almost by a magnetic force. She takes the seat in your lap without haste, and her hair makes a curtain over your faces as she rests her forehead on yours. 

"I'm sorry, dorogoya." She whispers with her eyes closed, her hands gripping your blouse. You adjust to hold her waist. "I hurt people to have you back."

You hum, moving a hand to her face. "Like I did, baby. Don't you remember?" You ask in the same tone, caressing her cheek. "Killed those Nazis back in 2015... then the agents who tried to lock you up for not signing the Accords..."

"It was different-"

"I would have done the same." You assure as you firm your grip on her cheek. Wanda moans low, unable to control herself at the roughness. Your eyes darken. "I think they're lucky I was the one who blipped, honey. I would have burned this world and any other to get you back."

There is nothing she can do but kiss you. It's firm, full of longing. She gasps into your mouth and you slide your tongue between her lips, taking control and matching it with the same passion. Wanda burns and the thrill of having you back hit her hard.

She is crying, so you stop and hold her as she hides her face in your clavicle.

"I thought...I lost you...I'm so sorry..." She mumbles disconnectedly between sobs, and you don't let go, stroking her back as you try to calm her. 

"You're not getting rid of me, Maximoff." You tease. "You're going to marry me as you promised. For real this time."

The comment elicits a whiny laugh from her, and you chuckle when she pinches you in a warning for mentioning Westview so lightly. But there is no other way for you.

"Besides this, darling, you put me in a dress?" You comment with false indignation. "The greatest of crimes, really."

She chuckles weakly against your neck, adjusting herself to sit on your stomach and look you in the eyes. 

You look at her with such love, wiping her face with your gentle hands, and Wanda thinks you're right. You are good to her. You always have been.

"It wasn't really you." She tries to say with a slight frown. "It was...like a whisper. A ghost."

You hum in a mix of understanding and curiosity. "It was because of the stone, wasn't it?" You deduce. "My powers... created the connection-"

"No." She shakes her head, her hands going to adjust the collar of your blouse. "My love for you created the connection. Your version of Westview was just... so nice. All those good things you did for me. How much I loved you. My magic created this... clone. It was a reflection of everything I loved about you, but it wasn't you. Maybe... that's why I was able to say goodbye."

You twitch your nose, a small smile on your lips. "Nothing compares to the real thing, huh?" you comment smugly, stifling the other's indignant snort with a firm kiss. Wanda chuckles affectedly, ready to debate that Westview's version was good enough when you spin your bodies on the bed at once, and upon being pressed into the mattress, all that comes out of her mouth is a moan. You hum in satisfaction. "I missed that sound."

She breathes affectedly, her eyes opening to meet yours staring at her passionately. "And I missed you." She murmurs, her hands finding your hair to pull you back.

Making out sessions were so common in your relationship, especially during Avengers that it was only now that it had been five years since the last time, that Wanda realized how much she missed it. Back then, it was usually enough to calm her hormones, but Wanda had never felt so needy as she did now.

You chuckled huskily against her neck, interrupting the soft marking of hickeys when you felt her rubbing herself on your thigh. "Got all turned on by a few kisses, Maximoff? Someone really missed me..."

She wants to rip off that smug little smile, even though that is absolutely true. "God, I had forgotten what a pain in the ass you are." She complains, trying to normalize her breathing, which is difficult with you on top of her, making her hot and bothered, tingly all over. 

"Please, you love me." You tease, and Wanda smiles, enjoying the feeling of having you lying on top of her again, your face on her collarbone depositing more chaste kisses now.

"You have no idea how much, detka" She whispers as she closes her eyes, one hand stroking your hair. You smile against her skin. Wanda thinks you murmured I love you back before falling asleep, exhausted by the journey there.

Holding you, Wanda knows. She can never lose you again.

–//–

You dream of a teenage girl. Scared and fearful, running, or perhaps, escaping from something.

It is fast and intense, and when you wake up, you jump softly. You don't remember the dream when you look around, and are more concerned about the empty bed than nightmares.

The room is dark, the only illumination coming from the moon through the window and a candle burning in the corner of the table. 

Unlike the commode, the rest of the house is noisy and you can hear a mix of voices downstairs, muffled by the closed door.

"Wanda?" You call out to her a few times until you realize that wherever she is, she can't hear you.

On your way out of the room, you bump into Agatha again.

"You are a heavy sleeper, Avenger." Comments the witch teasingly, as you scratch your eyes. 

"Yeah, I guess so." You mutter. "Where...?"

"In the tower, dear." She interrupts your question already assuming it would be about Wanda. "We have rules for some types of spells around here. Nothing that corrupts can be inside the house."

You make a confused face, "Corrupts? What are you talking about, Miss Harkness?"

But there are a couple of well-dressed people on the stairs and Agatha waves to them. "Oh, dear, I'm sorry, I have to go." Says the witch. "It's the night of the solstice, you know? We have rituals to be done. It would be... polite if Wanda would join us, but all she wants to do is consume that book. It's like an addiction if you ask me." You open your mouth to question further on this subject, but Agatha is walking away, talking to the other strangers in a language you don't know. You think you will have to find this tower on your own, but she turns around before she goes down the stairs and tells you the way.

You are spinning your ankles almost immediately.

The room where Wanda is is lit entirely by candles, spread out in a circle. The air inside is unnaturally cold and shivers you from head to toe.

For a brief, scary second, you can almost hear the glow of the mind stone from the day you received your powers. Trapped on a Hydra stretcher like an animal.

"Wanda?"

The woman, so far trapped in some kind of ritualistic trance in the circle of candles she is in, opens unfocused red eyes. You see a glimpse of the book behind her before Wanda straightens up and with a nod, blows out the candles and lights the candelabras.

"Hey, detka, you're awake." You chuckled at how guilty she looked, hiding the book with her body and erasing the scary circle of spells.

"What are you up to, eh, little witch?" You ask, readily accepting her invitation to slip your hands around her waist. Wanda has a different gleam in her eye - now green again - and in the atmosphere of this room, she seems like a force of nature. You could say you are charmed by her if you didn't already love her so deeply.

She bites back a smile, interlacing her hands behind your neck.

"Only mischief, I'm afraid.'" She murmurs, close enough to tease your lips with the tip of her tongue. You choke softly, your hands moving down to her ass, squeezing it to press her against you. 

"Hmm, I missed you being naughty..." You sigh when she kisses you. It's different. You can't put your heart on what - You can't think of anything with Wanda kissing you with such vehemence and sensuality; You're more used to her submission, always in love with the feeling of having her ruined beneath you. But the way she kisses you now - as if she knows exactly how secure she is in your heart, body, and soul - is breathtaking. She puts you at her mercy by sucking on your tongue.

"F-fuck." You break the kiss with a gasping sigh, every inch of your body burning. A stream of saliva connects your mouth to hers, and Wanda stares at you with dark pupils. "You're playing a dangerous game, Maximoff-"

Your attempt to gain a little dominance turns into an affected grunt when Wanda grabs your face at once. Much like the way you did hours ago. And you are too distracted by her eyes that flutter between green and red to notice the darkness of her fingers.

"Knee for me, darling." She orders in a husky voice, bringing a wave of heat to your abdomen. You moan, and your knees would have given out on their own - But Wanda uses her magic anyway. On the floor, you look up with pleading eyes, watching her magic tear off her clothes.

You can feel your own arousal oozing down your thighs, but don't you dare seek any kind of relief from yourself with Wanda inches from your mouth. The last garment is barely out and you dive in - Proudly tearing out a loud moan as your mouth meets her core.

Her cunt drips and clenches on your tongue and fingers you slide them up her thigh until you sink in, but Wanda barely feels you and is already putting one leg over your shoulder, whimpering as you work to bring her orgasm.

It comes intense and very quickly, and you both know it's because of the time apart. Her body has been begging for your touch for so long that she almost hates how fast it happened. You shush her worries and complaints of the overstimulation, making no mention of letting her go. Instead, one of your hands digs its nails into her thigh, holding her open and against your mouth as you eat her out until she can give you another. And another.

It's the roughest sex you two ever had - Full of longing and passion - and Wanda doesn't know when she got on the floor, maybe it happened after the third or fourth climax when her legs were too weak to keep her upright, and she's not complaining one bit.

You fucked her intensely and desperate to please - She loved how much control she had without needing a drop of magic. And when you didn't question the hardness between your legs put there by her, she wanted to test how far your obedience would go.

"That's new." You murmured in a husky voice against her ear, your hands pinning hers to the floor of the ancient meditation circle. Wanda couldn't deliver more than a groan - The toy buried deep in her abused pussy was making everything more difficult. Your strokes, slow and deep did not fail to draw breathless moans from the witch beneath you. "Is this what you wanted, baby? For me to fill you to the brim?"

Wanda whimpered aroused, her walls clenching the fake cock until you couldn't move and she came with her back arched and her eyes scarlet - You gasped in satisfaction at the image, surrendering to your own pleasure next. Pumping in and out inside, it wasn't long before you came, grunting against her neck as you spilled inside her walls, staining them white. Wanda moaned at the sensation, her legs hooked around you so that you would go nowhere, that no drop would go to waste.

You had no idea why, but you were too high in pleasure to ask or even think about it.

Breathing out of rhythm as you calmed down, you deposited chaste kisses on her collarbone until you reached her face - Matching the smile Wanda had as you kissed her.

"I love you, little witch." You declared somewhat breathlessly, and repeated it a few times until Wanda giggled away, all the exhaustion from being fucked over and over leaving her feeling a little dizzy and with an easy smile. It took you less than thirty seconds to slide out and get rid of the toy in some corner of the room, but Wanda followed you with her gaze the whole time until you were back on top of her. "How about ... we ... take ... a ... shower... together?" Every word was filled with a kiss, and Wanda almost didn't let you stop doing it.

"That sounds lovely." She said, and seeing that you were getting ready to stand up, she held you back. It didn't take long for your expression of confusion to turn into one of complete amazement. 

It took Wanda, not a second for the room around you to transform - You thought it was teleportation at first but realized that the shape of the bathroom you were in now was the same as the tower, and understood that it was chaos magic. No longer were you lying on the floor, but inside a tub, slowly filling in as you got used to the environment. Wanda adjusted herself to sit up, and you held the edges to look around, an impressed giggle escaping your lips.

"Damn, babe, that's fucking cool." You praise the magic, blushing as you meet Wanda's passionate gaze on you once you turn your face to her. With a wink, you adjust to lie with your back on her chest, and Wanda slips her arms around you, sighing in satisfaction. 

It is a very peaceful and comfortable moment. Just you and Wanda under the warm water, with her stroking your hair and almost making you fall asleep, and you have no idea of the evil whispers from a magic book that she is trying to push away as she does so.

"Sorry, Wands." Your speech confuses her; she blinks her eyes, focusing on your figure against her. You interlace the fingers of your hands and stare at the gesture as you clarify. "For leaving you alone."

Her chest tightens. She swallows dryly, once and twice, and you wait. All Wanda does is kiss the top of your head.

"What matters is that you are here now." She says meekly, letting you play with her fingers. "And nothing will ever take you away from me again."

The darkness of the sentence goes unnoticed by you. You are more curious about the coloration of her fingerprints.

"Is that some kind of spell?" You ask, and she merely hums in return, trying to buy time to formulate an answer. "It's not a bad thing, right? Nor painful?"

Your insistence. No. Your sincere concern, which she can read in every inch of your mind, makes her chest burn with guilt. She holds you tighter.

"It's nothing you have to worry about, darling." She assures you in a tone of closure, using her free hand to spread your legs under the water. 

"B-but Wanda..." You start but are unable to ignore your own pleasure when Wanda slides her fingers into you with ease. The bite she places on your shoulder makes you whimper. Your hips move in rhythm with her fingers, but you gasp and pant, warning, "You can't just fuck me out of a conversation-ah-"

She giggles macabrely, feeling you throbbing in her digits. Your warm juices mix with the water in the tub.

"Oh, I think I can." She teases in your ear, increasing the speed. You grunt, begrudgingly focusing on your orgasm and not on whatever it is that Wanda is hiding. She presses her palm against your clit, sinking a third finger next and stretching you out. You grip the edges of the tub so hard that the wood cracks and the throaty moan that escapes you make all of Wanda's hair shiver. "Let it go for me, detka. Make your wife proud."

The title takes you over the edge - You come in an almost animalistic moan, spasming against her in one of the most intense orgasms you have ever had in your life. Wanda continues kissing your neck and slowly stimulating you throughout your climax until you try to pull away from the excessive stimulation.

There is a tender moment, Wanda whispering sweet nothings in your ear until you can catch your breath again. She slides her fingers out and sucks your taste off as you calm down. The scene is almost enough to get you ready again, but after so many times, you both need a break.

When you look at her again, your smile is teasing. "Wife, huh?"

She matches her expression, but there is gentle insecurity in her eyes that would surprise you if you didn't know her so well. "It slipped out. But... you should get used to it, detka. I'm going to marry you yet."

You chuckle shyly, adjusting yourself so that you can kiss her on the mouth. Wanda also smiles into the kiss. Between one kiss and another, you joked, "Did marriage make me a bottom?"

Wanda burst into a laugh, her arms around your waist as you adjusted to sit on her lap. 

"Is that a complaint about my performance?"

You chuckled, arms around her neck. "Oh, sure, I hate coming so much." You mocked against her lips, staring in the same passionate, mischievous way she was looking at you. "I can't believe you made me... come inside you."

Wanda bites her lips, feeling your warmth in her lap and knowing that you can feel hers. "Did you like it?"

You nod, kissing her jaw. Wanda swallows dryly, controlling her own excitement to keep talking. "It's a spell I learned. And it works... like the real thing."

Your kisses stop as soon as you understand what she is saying, and your frown as you face her again doesn't calm the other one's nerves. She keeps her grip on your waist.

"Wait." Wanda can almost see the gears in your mind working. "How real?"

She swallows dryly and squeezes harder without realizing it. Terrified that you will reject her. "I want to have your children." She declares boldly, though her heart is hammering in her ribcage.

You are in shock at the whole thing. You open your mouth but all that comes out is an incredulous laugh, and with a gentle effort, you escape Wanda's hands, out of the tub. She licks her lips, trying to keep the tears in as you cover yourself with a robe as if suddenly, being naked is no longer comfortable.

"Please don't be mad." She murmurs, but you chuckle incredulously.

"You should have told me."

"I-"

"No, Wanda." You cut her off in a serious tone. Wanda is ready to be stubborn about it, but all certainty disappears when she sees your expression and the way that despite your super strength, you never looked so small as you do now. "I really love you, Wands. Nothing will ever change that. But children are a very important step. A conversation we haven't had yet." Wanda hesitates, in her gaze, and you sigh. "Westview was a fantasy, sweetheart. I'm not that ghost. I was gone for five years, I'm still only twenty-four years old. I wanted... this life of travel and dating and adventure with you. To mature by your side, and create a career, and then someday, if we were ready for it, have children."

Wanda sniffles lightly. "What if... you weren't?"

You give a sad smile. "Wanda, I'm not you." You mutter upset. "I didn't have incredible parents, nor did I lose them too young before I could grow up and notice if they had problems or not. Mine were terrible and damaged me for a long time. I am very afraid that I will be just like them."

Wanda immediately denies it with her head. "You are not! You are sweet and good and I will be an incredible parent!"

You give a short, humorless laugh, pushing your hair back. "I guess we'll find out soon enough." You ironize, and Wanda swallows dryly.

"You could at least be happy-"

"That you lied to me?" You interrupt indignantly.

She stares at you with the same irritation. "I didn't lie!"

"Omitting is a form of lying!" You retorted. "And apparently that's not the only thing! What are the marks on your hands, who are these people, where are we really? I have a million questions for you, and all you do is run away and hide things from me!"

Whenever Wanda gets emotional enough, her magic reflects it. You are used to it, but it is a little terrifying that the ground trembles over your feet when she stands up in anger. Her robe magically appears on her body, covering her as well.

"I'm doing everything for us!" She shouts back, holding onto your arms. "So we can have a family, a home! Making sure nothing takes that away from us again!"

"Wanda, you have to understand that I'm not the person who lost these things-"

"And you have to be content!" She refutes truthfully, scarlet eyes glowing with emotion. "Happy and understanding about what I'm doing for us!"

It happens in a second. All irritation, hurt, or fear, simply vanishes from your expression. Wanda doesn't even realize what her magic has done for the moment. 

"I understand, my love." You say smiling at her as you did the first time she said she loved you. Wanda frowns, but you hold her cheeks tenderly. "I love you so much, darling. I'm so grateful that you're looking out for me, making sure nothing bad happens."

She chokes on the emotion softly, breaking under your gentle touch and tone of voice. "Really?"

You smile. "Nothing is going to keep us apart, Wanda. You'll make sure of that."

Wanda nods, sighing in relief at being understood in her own despair. You hug her by the shoulders and she sinks her face into your collarbone, murmuring how much she loves you into your skin.

"Don't be mad at me. I just wanted our children back." She pleads against you, hearing you sigh before pulling her face to face you. Your hands grip her cheeks.

"We'll get them back, honey." It's a promise, Wanda feels it. You smile mischievously at her, bringing your faces closer together. "And we can make as many more as you want."

She blushes, giggling shyly as she wraps her arms around your waist. "I can never lose you again, детка. I wouldn't... survive."

You look at her tenderly. "I'm here, baby. I will never leave you." 

She kisses you, letting herself be enveloped by your warmth and love until the darkhold dominance that whispers that another step toward the happiness she lost has been completed becomes hazy and muffled in her mind.

--//--

A/F/N->This should have been a series, but I left it as one, and because of this ending, I'm not going to dismiss the possibility of other parts of this story. I like to think that once Reader figures out what's going on, she and Wanda would break up so we can have an angst-filled fresh start to the really happy ending they deserve (I'd finally get an exes trope story published, thank you!). I'd like to watch other Marvel projects, like Coven of Chaos, before continuing this though, to get more of the canon. Let me know what you think in the meantime.

Please don’t flag the work, thank you.

[urfavenarrator]

[daryl dixon] [cxm!r] [fanfic] [daryl forced to sub, rope play, body worship, muscle worship, edging, overstim, praise kink, all to daryl]

ya i am a horny fucker what about it

Same lol anyway

Got board a wrote dialog in a accent not happening again

Slutty!needy!Daryl Dixon x Top!male!reader

------♡Starved♡------

growls.

"Need somethin’, dar?" You say, not looking up from your book. Daryl stares you down with deadly eyes

You sigh. "Come ‘ere," you say, as you put the book down.

 He sighs and walks over. He looks down, standing before you. Then, he stares at you with his sapphire eyes, waiting for you to talk.

You pat your leg and say, "Sit down, baby." He obeys but is still on edge. "'m not yer 'baby,'" he says in his southern drawl, eyes hard. l"What do ya want?" "What happened out there?" You gently rub his back. "You seem so tired." You reply softly.

"Gotta lot on mah mind," He admitted as his expression softened. You can tell he's tired by the way he leans his head on your shoulder. His short black hair sticks up in various places. His clothing has seen better days. There are dirt streaks on his face, and there's a cut on his forehead. He's tired, hungry, and ready to take on the apocalypse. The world around you is silent and still. Daryl closes his eyes and leans into your shoulder with a deep sigh. He seems to be relaxed.

"Wanna go home?"

He sighs at your words, "Home... What does home even mean anymore? Everywhere I go, death follows." he pauses"'m tired."

"Alright, le’s go home." You pick him up, your muscles flexing softly, and carry him back to your shared house in Alexandria.

Daryl grumbles and blushes, unable to contain a slight look of amusement at your show of strength. He scrunches his face slightly as he tries to maintain his tough guy act. He looks down at your feet, unable to look you in the eyes as you carry him. He gives up and relaxes into your arms completely. He lets out a soft sigh.

We get home, and I spend about an hour and a half trying to get him in the shower.

Daryl sits in the shower, silent. He isn't exactly crying, but it is clear that he has been. His face is streaked with tears, and his eyes are red. He stares ahead of him, his face stony and unfocused.  He's trying to stay in his tough guy persona to maintain what's left of his dignity and his pride. But in reality, he isn't the tough guy he likes to think he is. He's tired. He's hungry. He's not a hero or a leader. He's a survivor. And he's struggling.

I grab the shampoo and rub it into his greasy, matted hair.

Daryl flinches.

"Oi! Stop!" he snaps, in a louder tone than intended. He's embarrassed and is trying to maintain his tough guy act while fighting back against his tired, bruised, and battered nature. But it's obvious he desperately needs a wash. He's been out of action for a while and has accumulated a fair amount of grime and dirt on his face and body. Despite his best attempts to stay stone-faced, he cannot hide his exhaustion. His eyes are bloodshot, his face is drawn, and he is covered in days worth of facial hair.

"Daryl!" you shout, putting your hands on your hips.

Daryl scowls at you. It's clear his true self is beginning to show.

"... What?" he says through gritted teeth, his face still covered in cuts, tracing trails down the sides of his face. A bruise can be seen on the skin of his neck.

"Yer actin’ like a toddler, just let me wash ya," you say with a huff. Your face is stern, your [E/c] eye glaring at him; he knows he won't win this argument.

His shoulders sag and his arms droop limply by his side as he allows you to take control of the situation.

 "... Fine." He says this dejectedly, letting out another sigh, and lowers his head. You can see the tears that have been streaming down his face. The rough look on his face is starting to give way. Reality is catching up to Daryl. He is tired, and he hurts.

"Good boy, see that wasn't hard, was it?" you say, washing the shampoo out of his hair and then washing it out of yours. You smile and grab the Lofa and some body soap; it foams up nicely.

Daryl rolls his eyes. His tough-guy act is completely gone. He's not even trying at this point. Daryl's once rough expression has softened. His eyes are no longer stern and aggressive. They look tired. Exhausted, even. His face is relaxed. Daryl just stands there, looking at you with his sapphire eyes while not saying a word. However, he can't hide how grateful he is for the bath. The dirt and grime of the outside world are being removed, and Daryl can't help but feel a little bit of relief from the process.

You wash the dirt and gore off of his toned body and clean yourself, as well.

Daryl sighs, his eyes still closed. A small part of him enjoys the feeling of getting clean, even if he doesn't want to admit it. A smile crosses his bloodied lips as you clean his hair. The dirt, sweat, grease, and blood that have been covering his face for days are finally being washed away, leaving soft, smooth skin beneath.

You finish up and head to bed. You go to the closet and grab a box from the closet.

"Hey now, I don' bottom," he says sharply. His southern accent becomes thicker.

"'Didn't ask, now sit up," you command, not looking at him as you dig through the box and pull out some rope.

He looks over at you with a confused look. You quickly tie the rope around his arms and legs so he can't move, and you take another piece to make a nice design.

He glares up at you. "Too tight?" You ask. 

"Nome…. t‘s not too tight," he replies, a faint smile on his lips. But while he seems to be enjoying himself, a certain look of confusion forms on his face. It's almost like he's shy. Daryl tries his best to maintain his tough-guy act, but to no avail. He's so used to being in charge. So used to being the "big man" and the "leader". But now? Now he's just...happy. He's embarrassed to have been tied up so easily, and this, of all things, is making Daryl feel...shy and vulnerable.

"Good. You look so fuckin hot like this, tied up just for me," you smirk as you run your hand up and down his thigh.

"Yer going to sit here and be a good boy, yeah?" You declare before you stop touching him.

"Y-yes’sir," he said, and there was not a trace of his usual bold, brash, and cocky attitude. This is a new Darryl—the calm, reserved, and shy one. The Daryl you never knew existed. 

"Good."

He's not used to being the one who is being "led" in a situation like this. But despite his shyness, Daryl does not argue with you. He is your "good boy", and he will do what you order. He nods again before speaking up, trying to maintain a calm and level tone.

"Yea ‘m yer good boy," he says quietly .

"Look at all those muscles," you say as you run your hand over Daryl's biceps, "nice and pudgy," and you give them a squeeze.

Daryl blushes as you run your hand over his biceps. Your words make him feel shy. Despite his tough, no-nonsense persona, Daryl secretly loves it when you show him affection. You can tell he's not a person who is used to receiving compliments like this. He's the kind of person who always has to be tough and "macho" all the time, but deep down, he loves it when you compliment him. He secretly craves validation and praise. Daryl starts to calm himself down again, taking deep breaths to clear his head. You can see the relief on his face as the tension leaves his body.

"Ya like that?" you whisper in his ear.

Daryl gasps at your whisper. The tone of your voice sent a flutter through his heart. He stares at you, a slight shade of pink on his cheeks. This is Daryl, who loves to be given praise and to be praised for what he does. He loves your attention.

"Tell me what ya want, Daryl."

Daryl blushes profusely and turns his cheeks a bright pink. Despite his tough-guy persona, Daryl has a soft side. He enjoys praise, validation, and affection. This is the Daryl you don't often see out on the streets. This is Daryl, who is shy and introverted. But still... Your words and your actions have an impact on him.

"Answer me, Daryl."

The prideful, "macho" side of Daryl starts to take over again. He's the "big man", the leader. He can't show weakness! If he does, who will protect the others? The community needs him! But Daryl's vulnerable side still wants to respond honestly. Daryl feels torn. In the end, Daryl chooses to be honest. He's always been honest. Daryl's a survivor. But his honesty is part of what makes him Daryl, so he is always honest. What comes out is his honest answer—the answer to your question.

Despite being stubborn and tough and being seen as a strong, independent man, he's still a human being. And a romantic and a lover, too. And he is not afraid to admit that. Daryl gives you a soft smile and nods back in reply to your question. Daryl's heart begins to beat faster, fluttering like a bird's wings in his chest. Blood floods through his body, leaving his face red. His eyes are still locked on yours. You're close to Daryl now. He can feel your warmth and your touch. This is something Daryl is not used to. In a way, he's embarrassed by these feelings, but in another way, it's something Daryl craves. He craves love, affection, and attention. Your attention, specifically. And Daryl doesn't know anything about words, anyway. All he knows... in action

"Say what ya want," you tighten you grip on his chin.

"T-touch me please," Daryl begged.

"Touch ya where?" You smirk, knowing it'll break his ego a bit.

"I- Anywhere,  j-just be gentle." He looks up, his face flushed with embarrassment, his ego hurt.

"Of course, sweetheart, 'll be gentle." You lean forward and kiss Daryl.

Daryl melts into the kiss,

He lets out a deep sigh of relief as he relaxes into your touch, while your hand gently traces and caresses his cheek. Daryl looks at you with his sapphire  eyes, wide-eyed and a little bit scared as the situation sets in.

"Don' worry, 'll go slow," you say, resting your hand on the side of his face.

"L-Listen..." Daryl says, stammering a little. He looks a little embarrassed. He rests his head on your hand, and he looks away from you. You can tell it was an action he didn't anticipate, and he is at a loss for words. The man in front of you is very unfamiliar and very different from the Daryl you see every day. It seems that when Daryl gets emotional, he can't help but lose all his usual composure and dignity.

"Hm?" 

"W-Well, listen, I..." he stammered again, and he struggled to even form basic sentences. He looks up at you expectantly. He cleared his throat and looked a little flustered, his eyes darting from the floor to your face and back again, trying to find something to say. It's like the Daryl you thought you knew has left the chat. Right now, the Daryl you're talking about is not the strong, "macho" guy he usually is. He's the Daryl that craves affection and attention.

"Take yer time, 'm plenty patient," you smile at him.

Daryl is vulnerable, and he craves affection, attention, and validation, but he won't say it aloud because it is too embarrassing.

"Ye alright, honey?" you said in a worried tone, your words soft and caring.

He shakes his head; he feels vulnerable under your gaze. The rope isn't helping; he's shy and embarrassed and craves your touch.

"Don' worry, 'll be careful with-cha." Your voice is intoxicating for Daryl ; he wants you in him. Wants you to whisper sweet affirmations in his ear.

He blushes hard; he's supposed to be a man, supposed to take care of you, but here he is wanting your touch, wanting to be taken care of.

"Don' worry, honey; I know what ya want. Ya want my hands all over you; you want to be touched; you want to be taken care of. 'll make sure yer needs get taken care of.”

You were right, and you knew it, but it's too embarrassing for him to admit it yet. It's too much for him to bear. But deep down, his eyes say more than his lips could ever tell you. You have found the hidden Daryl, and he's vulnerable—vulnerable and craving validation. Daryl craves affection, attention, and praise. And he deserves it. He's sensitive and in need of love.

You run your hand over his pecs, then his stomach, then his thighs, saying, "What soft skin ye have, all scared and pretty."

As your hands run down his body, they leave a tingling trail. It's something he hasn't felt in years. He loves it. You see what your touch does to him—he's flushed from embarrassment. You smile

You smirk, "God, I think 'm goin’ to need to mark you up; I'd love to see you with my bitemarks going down yer chest." Daryl blushes heavily, his mouth slightly ajar. There's a small heat building in his abdomen.

You lean forward and gently bite his neck, making sure you leave a hickey. Daryl shutters, his neck is sensitive, and the feeling is intense. He looks up at you, his eyes like big sapphires. You can see how much he craves this sensation. You go back to biting him, trailing down his chest, and kissing in between the makeshift shibari. "Mmm," he holds back a moan as his head hits the headboard. Daryl looks at you with lidded eyes; he needs your touch; he's completely at your mercy. You hold the power; Daryl's all yours.

Daryl's breath hitches as you kiss his lower abdomen, his whole body burning. He's scared to show this side of him—the soft, touch-starved, needy part of him. He thinks it's his weakness. You stop kissing his body and sit back up and put your hand on his cheek, saying, "Ya look so pretty like this." You lean forward and give him a quick kiss; he looks at the floor, embarrassed. Although his body's acting normally. He's sheepish about it, about how he leans into your touch and wants you closer, about the heat growing between his legs.

He thrusts up, trying to get any friction at all, and he lets out a needy moan. You smile and move away slightly; "Need som’ help?" you say with a shite-eating grin. "YES! Please. Please touc-" you start kissing him. Dragging your hand up his thigh slowly Daryl kisses back excitedly, and when you pull apart Daryl's breathless and panting slightly, his eyes are closed. He's so needy as you get closer and closer to his member, but you stop right before. 

“Huh?” he looked hurt and slightly embarrassed.daryls is unable to make eye contact. “Beg” you commanded. “please…” he said meekly, his tone sheepish and soft. “Please what?” your stern voice “i… i need you…”daryl spoke quietly, looking away from you he can't bring himself to look at you. “Need me to what?” your tone is much sweeter now. Daryl blushed the heat of embarrassment rising to face, his heart fluttering and his mind a whirl of emotion. He couldn't think straight, you face inches away from him, your hands spreading his thighs, “anything” is all he could manage. “Want me to touch you” you pry him for an answer, he nods, you put your hand on his cheek and make him look at you. “Alright” you say burying your face in the side of his neck. You wrap your hand around his shaft and move at a painfully slow pace. 

Daryl bit his lip trying to suppress his soft mewls, he hasn't been touched like this in years. He rutts into your hand and you stop moving, “no moving honey '' Daryl whines in response, tears of frustration start to form. You move your free hand to his hip to hold him in place and go back to your pace, his crumbles and starts begging for you. “Please, i- ‘m a good boy,” he pleads. You bite your lip and start to move much faster, sending shocks of pleasure through him. “Fuck yeah, ye are such a good boy” you voice echos around the bedroom, daryls brain is turning to mush as you praise him, and love on him. The room fills with lustful sounds ``that better?” “mhm” is all he can manage.  “What do ya say daryl?” your voice antagonizing, “t- thank you, s-” 

“Ya close?” he doesn't respond, “i need ya to talk to me daryl '',  he says yes but it's hard to, .he lets out a choked moan, you can tell he's close so you stop and grab a bottle of lube. His powerful thighs quiver when you stop, he's panting “wh-why’d ya stop?” he pleaded quietly “cant have ya cummin yet can we” you spread the lube around your fingers, and gently put one in him. His face contorts eyebrows drawn to each other as he screws his eyes shut, but soon relaxes. You pump it a bit before adding another finger. As you stretch him out you can help but listen to his stifled moans. 

There's a light layer of sweat coming at him “ye look pretty like this' ' he doesn't respond and you don't make him respond, you decide he's stretched enough and slick up you dick. “Ya ready dar?” After a couple seconds he nods, you slowly push in, his face twists in discomfort and pain, you pause halfway so he can adjust. He nods and you fully bottom out in him and he lets out a small sob, you wrap your arms around him and stay like that for a while til he starts grinding down. 

You pull all the way out then gently push back on him, it's clear he's never bottomed before. You keep your arms around his midsection and your face in the bend of his neck, his chin on your shoulder. You keep your pace for a while before speeding up, he bites down on your shoulder to hide his moans. It's still embarrassing to him. 

You feel his legs start to shake and his knees clench around your waist, you slip one hand into his hair and gently pull at it. “Good boy… so good”is the last thing Daryl hears before the coil in his stomach breaks,his whole body spasms.

 He paints your stomachs with cum. He pants heavily as your thrusts get slopier and erratic. “In- in or out” you say unevenly your quick breaths now audible “in '' daryl says still heaving. After a few more thrusts and more whines from daryl. You slam into him and release as deep as you can. You thrust one more time before pulling out.

You sit up and look at Daryl, his hairs messy, and he's covered in sweat and semen. His chest rises and falls as his pants grow softer. You wrap your hand around his now flacid dick and give it a few more tugs, he squeezes his eyes and wines in a high pitched voice, you stop before he gets hard again and grab some tissues to clean him up a bit. You cut the rope off of him and lay next to him. He curls up in your arms and you both fall asleep next to each other.

[beneathstarryskies]

Day 4: Praise Kink - Raditz

Warnings: lots of praise, handjob, penetration (p+v), fem!reader

Let me know if you wanna be added to the taglist!

Taglist: @actuallysaiyan, @loki-love

Raditz is lounging in the bathtub. His long hair spills over the back of the tub, and his leg is propped up on the side as an example of how ill-fitting he was but still determined to enjoy the simple pleasure of a bath after a long day of training. You’re kneeling by the tub while washing him and being careful to avoid agitating the bruises he got during the rough sparring session with Goku and Vegeta. He’s a little agitated right now. His jaw is set tight in frustration. 

“They’ve come so far,” he growls. “I can’t believe I’ve fallen so far behind! I can’t help that I was dead!” 

“You’ll catch up, love,” you say with a sweet smile.  

“Hmph,” he grunts. “Easy for you to say. You’re not out there being made a fool of.” 

“You’re not a fool,” you kiss his cheek. “Remember, when you first came to earth, Goku had to sacrifice himself just to defeat you. You’re strong. You’ll work hard, and catch up.” 

“You think I’m strong?” Raditz asks, and lays his head so he can look at you with a smug grin. You know now what he wants, and you’re happy to give it to him. 

“Look at you! Of course I think you’re so big and strong,” you drag your hands across his broad chest then rake your nails down the ridges of his muscular abdomen. “Just look at all these big muscles.” 

He purrs excitedly and you can see the pink tip of his cock start to poke through the bubbles of his bath. 

“I bet you like how big I am,” he offers, urging you to continue. 

“I love it. Especially when you carry me in your big strong arms,” you coo softly and kiss his cheek. Then you whisper in his ear, “And when you hold me down to fuck me, and I can’t even try to get away.” 

He purrs as his eyes widen. 

“Come on, let’s get you out of the bath.” 

You grab a big, fluffy towel and begin drying him off. A sweet smile tugs at the corner of your mouth as you look up at him. 

“You’re so handsome,” you tell him and stand up on your tiptoes to kiss him. His tail flicks happily when you try to pull away, it wraps around your waist to pull you closer. His erection presses against your tummy. “And you’re so responsive,” you say with a slight teasing lilt to your voice. 

“But you like that?” he asks, hopeful to receive even more praise. 

“Of course I do,” you kiss him again and again. “It’s so fun to get you riled up.” 

His tail stays wrapped around your waist so his hands are free to touch you. And touch you he does, all over. He squeezes your hips and your ass as he leans in to kiss you passionately. 

“Mm, you’re such a good kisser too,” you say against his lips. “And your big hands always feel so good on my body.” 

He finally allows you to finish drying him off, and you sit him down so you can brush his hair. As you work the brush through his long hair, you continue showering him in praise. You tell him how handsome he is and how much you love taking care of him this way. The entire time his tail flicks excitedly, and he palms his cock. When you say something he likes in particular, he lets out a soft purr. Once you set the brush aside, he pulls you onto his lap. 

“I want to show you how much I appreciate your praise,” he growls as he pushes his hand down your pants to tease you. 

“Only if you promise to be a good boy,” you giggle. 

“I think we both know I’ll be bad,” he nips at your neck. 

“You’re lucky that you’re so good at being bad.”

[mlm-writer]

So Good (Merlin x GN!Reader)

Pairing:  Merlin x Gender Neutral Reader Rating: Explicit Words: 1279 POV: Second Summary: The Big Tober Day 19 - Praise Kink Note: Me? posting the big tober in NOVEMBER??? No papa! Tags: unspecified established relationship (either in a relationship or fwb), no reader orgasm, blowjob, handjob, praise kink (mutual), post-orgasm torture and reader's body is completely unspecified

You quietly entered Gaius’ lab. The sun was about to reach its summit, but Merlin was not awake yet. The physician had told you Merlin almost died again, so he allowed him to sleep in. Unfortunately for the man, King Arthur was in need of his manservant. You had planned on entering discreetly and waking him up gently, but when you entered his room, all you saw were the blankets and the shape of a man underneath them. The blanket was moving right about where Merlin’s dick should be. You grinned and walked up to the blanket mount. “Need some help?” You whispered while leaning close. 

You leaned back while the blankets were thrown aside to reveal a red-faced and messy-haired Merlin. He looked adorable like this. “Oh it’s just you,” he sighed in relief. You raised a brow at him and grabbed the blankets still covering him from the clavicles down. He let you pull them down, revealing his flushed body. You stopped when the edge of the blanket reached the middle of his thighs, his red cock still held in his grip. “I could use some help yeah,” he breathed out, his hand moving just a little to take the edge off. 

You hummed and sat on your knees next to the bed. You tilted your head and stared at his cock. His scent filled your senses, fuelling your need to taste him. “I don’t know Merlin, you seem to be doing fine without me,” you mused to tease him. Merlin whined. He whispered the most delightful ‘please’ you had ever heard and it was all that he needed to say to get you to climb onto the bed. You sat on his thighs, one of your hands taking over for his. “You’re such a smart boy,” you sighed as you gave his length a slow stroke up. “You know you can’t even come close to the pleasure I can bring you.” 

Merlin whimpered when you praised him. He wanted to move his hips, but he didn’t get far with you on his legs. “Please, I want your mouth,” he begged, his hands clenching at his sides. His breath hitched as you used both hands to touch his hard-on, gentle caresses and soft squeezes driving him mad. His length was red and hot, twitching in your hands. You loved how responsive Merlin’s body was. 

“Good boy, keep begging for me. I love hearing you,” you whispered to the man below you. Merlin whispered his pleas, while you touched him tenderly. His precum made you salivate, but you could hold back as long as he was whimpering as he was now. King Arthur could wait a little longer. What could he possibly need anyway that required immediate attention? 

“Please let me cum in your mouth. You make me feel so good, so much better than my hand,” Merlin whined, his praises almost as impactful as yours were to him. You reasoned with yourself that the king could not wait after all, and scooted back. Yes, Merlin was definitely urgently needed.

 You bent over to lick at Merlin’s tip. He whined louder as you savoured the precum and traced the ridge with the tip of your tongue. The first taste of his tang made you hunger for more. You took the tip in your mouth, humming as you sucked on it. “So good, so good,” the brunet whispered under you. He made you feel like a deity, a being with divine pleasure to bestow upon the worthy. One of his hands reached for your shoulder, squeezing the muscles there in a silent plea for more. He was being so good for you, how could you not comply? 

You lifted your head, your tongue slowly dragging over the head, until he was completely free from your mouth. “King Arthur is looking for you.” You stroked him languidly. Merlin tried to buck up into your hand, but your weight was still restricting his movements. 

“I am a little preoccupied,” Merlin replied when he ceased his efforts, submitting to your mercy. You huffed out a chuckle at his predicament and tightened your grip a little, keeping the slow pace. Merlin groaned. “But maybe we should not make him wait too long,” Merlin added through gritted teeth. You agreed with him and bent down again, scooting back a little so you could take more of his cock. 

Gone was the teasing; you were on borrowed time and besides, you knew like no other that the man below you orgasmed like a sight to behold. You went to work, bobbing your head up and down where you were comfortable and occasionally pushing yourself to take it as deep as you could. If it wasn’t completely to the balls, Merlin couldn’t care less. He was spewing profanities through gritted teeth. When he got close, one of his hands clamped over his mouth. You could hear his desperate moans through his hand. 

You removed your mouth off him, it missed the weight and taste of Merlin immediately. “It’s just you and me, my good boy. Let me hear how cute you sound when you cum.” Merlin whined as he forced his hand off his mouth. His fists clenched the sheets when you rewarded him with your wet mouth. He filled you so nicely, his desperate whimpers growing louder like a reward. You stroked him quickly, focusing on the upper half of his shaft with your lips and tongue. “You sound so cute, Merlin. Cum for me, my sweet boy. You’re so good for me,” you spoke breathily between sucking on his dick and leaving wet kisses on the head. 

It was a shame you could not see his face well from here, as he threw his head back and filled your mouth with his seed, accompanying his saltiness with the sweetest moans. When you didn’t stop, he started thrashing around as much as he could, his body crying out for you to stop, but his voice staying obediently devoid of words. With his cum in your mouth as additional lube, you tried to deepthroat him again. He whined like a hurt puppy, but he didn’t speak a single word of protest. 

You pushed him a little longer than you normally would, just to see if he would break, but he still just took it, even when tears started forming in the corners of his eyes. You showed him some mercy and gradually removed your hand and mouth off him. He gasped when he was finally free, panting like he had just ran twelve rounds around Camelot. Merlin fell back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. You wiped your mouth and climbed off the bed, smiling when you saw his face. He looked like you just wiped his mind clear. You got on your knees next to the bed and ran a hand through his hair. “You’ve been so good for me,” you whispered to him, before leaving a kiss on his temple. “Didn’t think you would endure the post-orgasm blowjob that well.” 

Merlin finally seemed to start back up with a breathy chuckle. “That… was amazing,” he sighed dreamily, before turning his head to you. You gave him a peck on the lips. “You are amazing,” he sighed again, eyes almost like hearts. “Thank you.” You gave him another sweet caress on his face, before lifting to your feet. 

“Now be a good boy and run along to your king, before he reprimands me for not fetching you,” you scolded him as you started moving towards the door. Merlin groaned, but you knew he wouldn’t disappoint you. He was a good boy after all. 

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