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godmadeaterribleerror · 24 days ago

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More Than You Could Ever Know - Part 1

Series Masterlist

Author's Note: On god they're about to be so cute. This was going to be one chapter but they can't stop fucking and I can't stop writing. Enjoy!

Title from All I Want For Christmas is You by Mariah Carey

Word Count: 8.5k

Chapter Summary/Warnings: A No Love Lost Christmas Special! Takes place about five months after the end of No Love Lost, sort of an epilogue to the main story.

The Boys start Secret Santa, Ben pretends to do his job. Usual Warnings, plus smut. Much fluff and smut.

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, canon divergence, tooth rotting fluff, smut (fingering, oral f receiving, p in v sex), established relationship, Christmas Special

Part 2

Read on A03!

Doing this in Butcher’s apartment was a terrible idea, because the asshole only cleans when it’s his weekend with Ryan, and you’re right on the wrong end of that. Doing it immediately after work was a worse one, because you’re in heels and a too tight bra that you’re not allow to rip off, throw in Ben’s face, giggling when he all but tackles you into bed.

Doing it without Ben here to smile and pout and snark at might be the worst idea you’ve ever had.

And you’ve had a lot of remarkably fucking terrible ideas.

You’re not really paying attention to your friends around you, because you’re staring at your phone. Turning it around between your hands, waiting for Ben’s text to let you know Ryan’s home from school. That he’s not being bullied, and he’s doing his homework, and his powers didn’t cause what the principal had referred to as structural damage to the school’s foundation, and what Ben had correctly said was just a fucking accident. It’s not Ryan’s fault you pussies put the baseball field right next to the goddamn building.

There haven’t been any incidents since then—Ben had taken Ryan to a large, empty field and helped him figure out how to not turn a ball into a genuine weapon—but it’s still a delicate situation. It took a lot to get Ryan into a public school. A lot of promises of Ryan won’t hurt anyone, you fucking pussies, he’s not a damn baby, and bargains of Ben and I will donate, and go to all the fundraisers, but you’re not allowed to explicitly advertise that Ryan’s here, and many, many thinly veiled threats of if you don’t treat our son like a proper fucking human, I’ll let my wife yell at you. And she’ll rip you to fucking pieces.

You wouldn’t have ripped anyone to pieces. Literal pieces. Emotional pieces had been on the table, as had reputational pieces. It was one of the very few advantages of being so highly and strangely regarded as the woman who killed Homelander and the founder of the Soldier Boy Relief Foundation. People respected you and your opinion, which was an interesting choice on their part, but served you well. Ryan had gotten into the school, and he seemed to be liking it, so you hadn’t even been that mad at Ben for threatening the superintendent.

But you also don’t really get mad at Ben. Not ever. You whack his arms and wrinkle your nose and elbow his gut, but he always feels that you don’t mean it, and you never fight him when he tugs you into his arms and kisses you breathless and dizzy. When he mutters promises about fucking you stupid later, and calls you a brat, and chuckles when you grind onto his thigh in the middle of the office, and you miss him so much-

It’s barely been six fucking hours, Sunshine.

You scowl into the air, even as your whole body sings from the feeling of Ben, strong and deep and flaring in your chest. Shut up, you’re supposed to be picking up Ryan-

Already got him. We’re home.

You were supposed to text me, Benjamin-

Why, I’m telling you right fucking now-

Because Singer’s still on our ass. You sigh, tapping your fingers on the back of your phone. And the Ben’o’phone isn’t admissible in a court of law to prove we’re well-suited parents.

Singer can shove it up his fucking dick-

Ben, please- You cut yourself off as your phone buzzes, the screen lighting up with a message.

Benjamin; Stupid fucking handsome asshole husband

Ryans hoem

R u fuckingg happy sunshine

You smile, typing back Yes. Thank you, grumpy.

Shut the fuck up, Ben grumbles in your head, and all his adoration flares in your chest as you smile into the air like an idiot.

I love you, you massive fucking man-child.

I love you too, brat. Why the fuck aren’t you home yet.

You can almost picture his half-pouting scowl, feel the warmth of his body around you and smell pine drifting through the air. Meeting with everyone.

Everyone.

Yep.

Why the fuck is everyone meeting without me-

Because you’re picking up Ryan.

We could’ve made fucking Butcher do that-

Butcher doesn’t have a super awesome wife who’s going to tell him everything when she gets home, my love.

There’s a pause, and then Ben mutters between the low words of your friends talking around you, Be fucking fast.

MM says your name, looking between you and the bowl on the center of the table. “You put Ben in there?”

I always am. You nod to MM as Ben moves back to a quiet, warm hum in your chest, and tuck your phone into your pocket. “Yeah. I’ll give him his name when I get home.”

“And we’re sure Ben knows how Secret Santa works?” Hughie scratches the back of his neck with a sheepish expression, and you sigh.

“No. But I can explain it to him.”

“Old cunt ever even celebrated Christmas?” Butcher mutters, his feet kicked up on the table. “He don’t seem like the spirit of givin’ type.”

You flip Butcher off, your words short and firm. “He’s not a million Butcher, he’s celebrated Christmas before.”

Ben seems to love Christmas. Or at least grumpily acknowledge it with a soft, easy glow over his ribs and a relaxed face, which is the closest thing he gets to loving something that’s not you or Ryan. He’d told you, at the beginning of the month, that it was the only time his father didn’t drink as much. The only time his mother got to love him and not be caught between he and his father’s fights. The only time he got something as a child that he wasn’t expected to feel sorry or wasteful for receiving.

You wish there was some sort of supe that could communicate with ghosts or raise the dead. You’d mimic their powers, bring Ben’s father back, and then kill him again.

“Alright, Love.” Butcher raises his hands up in mock surrender. “Just makin’ sure.”

“Suck my fucking dick-“

“Can we, um,” Annie gives you an apologetic look as she cuts you off. “Can we draw? Now? Everyone has work tomorrow, and I would like to go home and eat my weight in sushi.”

Hughie nods, grinning down at Annie. “And watch Love Island.”

“Love Island?” MM raises his brows, and Annie blushes.

“It’s fun-“

“Names, cunts.” Butcher leans forward, pulling his paper, and looks around at the rest of the group. “Before time get’s all our sorry fuckin arses. Except yours. Love,” Butcher winks at you. “You’re stuck ‘ere till the sun goes out.”

“Eat me, Butcher.”

“Oi, I’m not above tellin the Gov you said that-“

“Ben would kick your sorry ass if you said that, Butcher.” MM’s voice is flat as he interrupts, leaning over the table to draw his paper. “You might be a supe now, but that motherfucker would beat up a mountain if it insulted her honor.”

You snort as Butcher’s sour expression, and give MM a grateful nod. Everyone here knows you don’t really have honor—at least not in a way that matters—but they also know that Ben doesn’t really care about that. His notion of your honor is subjective. You’re, apparently, above killing and straining labor, so he does that for you, but he also threatens congressmen and rude parents of Ryan’s classmates with his wife. You don’t lie to him, but he’s flat out encouraged you to commit perjury. He’d threatened a journalist who said you spread your legs for any powerful supe, but then shoved your knees apart to bury himself inside you and fuck you until you were a slurring, whiny mess under him.

It seems to mostly be about what you think of the insult. If that mountain called you a slut and you laughed, Ben would just glower, standing tall and ridged at your side. If it said the same thing and you stopped talking—cold spreading through your body and a ringing in your ears—Ben would make the mountain regret being born.

You miss him so fucking much.

Once everyone has a name and you’re sure no one’s pulled their own name, you leave Butcher’s apartment with grins and half-goodbyes. You, Annie, MM, and Hughie will all see each other tomorrow, and Frenchie, Kimiko, and Butcher will do the same.

It’s a short drive home from Butcher’s apartment, but that’s by design. For Ryan. Butcher lives in the city, and you and Ben are in the outskirt suburbs. You’d say Ben’s benefitting more from this arrangement—Butcher lives right above their office, while you have to drive to downtown for yours—but you’re the one who fought for this. The one who convinced Ben that Philadelphia would be a good place to live, because there was enough to not get bored, not enough that you’d never have peace, and it was halfway between New York and Washington. Most of the supe cleanup contracts that Ben, Butcher, Frenchie, and Kimiko got contracted for ended up being in New York—you’ve called Ben a murder maid several times, and he always rolls his eyes, kisses the top of your head, and mutters we don’t fucking murder people, we just get them in line when they’re being damn idiots—while a lot of your work is in DC, dealing with the more technical side of the post-Vought mess.

Ben hadn’t wanted you to call it the Soldier Boy Relief Foundation. He’d scowled at you as you’d told him and MM the idea, and their glares had been almost identical.

“There’s no fucking way you’re calling it that.” Ben had snapped, and MM had shot him a look of surprise.

“I mean, not that I don’t agree,” MM had said, scanning over Ben with a frown. “But why the hell do you think that.”

“Because Soldier Boy’s fucking dead. You,” he’d bumped his shoulder with yours, rough affection spreading over his ribs, even as he continued to glower. “Fucking killed him, Sunshine. Don’t use that name.”

You’d wrinkled your nose at him. “First of all, that’s very romantic, Pretty Boy. I’ve always wanted to metaphorically murder my husband.”

Brat-

“But,” you’d continued, kicking Ben’s shin as he’d started to smirk. “I have reasons to name it that.”

MM had scoffed. “There is not a chance you’ve got reasons to justify using that name-“

“It will draw attention.” You’d raised your fingers as you listed the reasons, using a bored, plain tone. “The whole point of this is to get as many victims of Vought and Homelander as much help as possible. Labelling it with Soldier Boy’s name will put it on people’s radar-“

“So would calling it the Starlight or Anomaly relief Foundation-“

You’d shaken your head, giving MM a flat look. “Annie’s supe name is already tainted in the public eye. Mine is controversial. If people hear the Anomaly Relief Foundation, they’ll form an automatic opinion based on the trials and news stories they’ve read. Soldier Boy will get people to actually look at what we’re doing. Older victims will be more likely to come out of the woodwork, supes that admired Ben growing up will be more willing to see what we’re offering them, and congress is full of old white assholes who will love it.”

MM had frowned, but nodded for you to continue, and you’d raised a second finger.

“Vought’s copyright on Soldier Boy expired last year, but Starlight and the Anomaly won’t be available for public use for another forty. Even if Vought goes down, they could drag us with them on petty litigations and technicalities, and we don’t need that right now. Finally,” you’d raised a third finger. “I think it’s poetic, and funny, and rubbing how we won in Homelander stupid dead face.”

You’d won that argument. And the argument about where to live. And the argument about letting Butcher have alternate weekends with Ryan.

That last one had been the easiest to win. For the name debate you’d had to convince Ben and MM, and for the city debate you’d had to convince the whole team of stubborn assholes you called your friends, but for the last one you’d only had to convince Ben. And you always convince Ben. He puts up a grumbled argument, and you tear down his points with teasing, loving words, and he gives in with a grunt. But you always see his small grin, and feel all his love and care and affection bursting from that piece of him near your heart, and he devours your face and neck and cunt until your knees get weak and you almost fall over.

You might love him more than life.

He’s waiting for you when you get home. You barely open the door before he’s on you, sweeping you into a long, deep kiss and groaning down your throat.

Hi, Benjamin. You mumble between your heads, and his chuckle rolls through your whole body.

“Hi, Sunshine.” He grins at you as he pulls away, hauling you up his chest as you gape at him a little stupidly. It’s not fair how he somehow keeps getting more handsome, how a domestic, peaceful life looks so good on him it might drive you insane. How his shirt under your hands is clean and soft and easy to tug on, to pull him back onto your mouth. How, when you finally get your shoes off, they’re on a mat right next to his, and that makes you feel all warm and fuzzy. How his beard is so well-trimmed because there’s nothing to rush for, and the whole house smells like pine because of Ben’s constant presence, and when he carries you up the stairs he doesn’t bother to look where he’s going because he already has the path memorized.

“Wait,” you push up on Ben’s chest, dropping your chin on his shoulder. “Ryan-“

“Hi!” Ryan calls your name from downstairs. “I’m doing homework!”

Don’t know how the fuck he’s my blood. Ben mutters in your head, never breaking his pace. He’s all damn smart and good at homework. “You know the drill, Kid?”

“Dinner in forty, only bother you if it’s an emergency!”

Smug pride inflates in Ben’s chest, and when you lean back he’s already grinning at you with darkened, blown out eyes, his half-hard cock already poking at your thigh.

You wrinkle your nose at him. We are not fucking with Ryan in the house.

We fuck with Ryan in the house all the damn time-

When he’s asleep, or watching TV, or has his headphones on. Not when he can hear it.

Then we’ll have him put headphones on-

You are not asking Ryan to use his headphones so we can have sex. You give Ben’s borderline pout a sweet smile, and lean forward to kiss over his beard. But when he goes to bed, I’ll let you do the thing.

Ben’s hunger grows white-hot and ravenous in your body, and when you meet his eyes, they’re darkened and peeling you apart. You have to squirt.

I can’t control that-

Whatever. Ben kicks open the door to your room, shooting you a wink. You have to let me make you fucking squirt, beautiful. No holding back.

You snort. When have you ever held back during sex.

I managed not to fuck you for six goddamn months. His voice is almost a growl in your head, and it’s not help your resolve to not have sex in the slightest. That’s some goddamn restraint, brat. He drops his mouth to that one spot on your throat, sucking and biting until your fingers curl in his hair. You’re fucking hot.

Thanks. Your voice is breathless, even between your heads, and you give a weak pull of Ben’s hair that only spurs him on. Wait, Ben, I need to talk to you-

That makes his pull away in an instant, his attention vigilant as he scans over your face, your skin suddenly wrapped in his concrete resolve. What the fuck is-

Nothing’s wrong. You take his face between your hands, giving him a soft smile. It’s about the meeting with everyone.

The one that you didn’t fucking invite me to.

The one, you swat at his arm, sticking your tongue out. That I’m trying to tell you about now, you big baby.

Fine. Ben grumbles in your head, watching you expectantly. What.

Have you ever done Secret Santa before?

Once. Vought party in the 80s.

You raise your brows at him. Really? How did that go?

I don’t fucking remember-

Well, it was forty years ago. You hold his face between your hands with a mock pout. Is your memory going, Benjamin? Do Ryan and I have to put you in a home-

Shut the fuck up, brat. Ben moves you flat on your back, kissing a very distracting line along your jaw as your finger curl in his hair.

Ben- You tug him back up—because if he keeps that up, you’ll never get around to telling him anything except more—and the asshole rises up with his hunger covering your bones and muscles, his body big and warm and strong over yours-

“Yes, darling?” Ben drawls, smirking down at you, and you scowl.

“You’re such a fucking cunt-“

“You love it,” he shrugs, still hovering over your body. “Tell me what the fuck the meeting was about to so I,” he pushes his knee between your thighs. “Can focus on this.”

Not with Ryan in the house-

You’ll just have to be quiet. He presses his knee up, bumping right over your clit, and grins at your small whine. Tell me about the meeting.

We’re, fuck- You grind pathetically against him, and Ben drops his weight to down to trap you against the mattress stilling the movements. You dick-

I’ll give you my dick. He kisses you once, long and slow, guiding your arms fully around his neck. Just use your fucking words, beautiful.

It’s a miracle you remember how words work, let alone say any of them, because Ben dives back down to your neck—keeping you pinned down as he works you into a gasping, writhing mess under him—and everything becomes very simply Ben in your mind and body.

“I, um,” he nips at your throat, and you have to swallow a moan. “Kimiko wanted to do something, for the Holidays, and Hughie suggested Secret Santa, so we’re, fuck, Ben, we’re doing that-“

Ben rises back up to frown at you, and you whine at the loss. “Doing what.”

“Secret Santa,” you whisper, taking the moment of his distraction to wrap your legs around his torso. “I put your name in, and, um,” you let go of him for a second, fumbling around in your pocket for Ben’s paper, folded neatly while yours was crumpled. “I grabbed yours.”

Ben wraps an arm around you as he sits up, pulling you to fall over his chest and curl in his lap. “That,” he nods to the paper, still in your hand. “Is who I have to get the gift for.”

You nod with a hum, passing it into his hand. “I didn’t look,” you say, watching him un-wrinkle it. “So don’t-“

“Butcher?” Ben looks up at you with a scowl, a hot, stinging itch spreading over his skin and sitting in his fingers. “What the fuck am I supposed to do with Butcher.”

You sigh. “Tell me. Don’t tell me, Ben.”

“I had to fucking tell you,” he snaps your name, glaring at the paper. “I can’t get a gift for fucking Butcher, all he does is fucking work and pussy around, fucking asshole probably doesn’t even want anything like a normal damn human-“

“There has to be something.” You mumble, tapping your fingers on Ben’s arm. “We’ll figure it out, Ben. I’ll help you. But you can’t tell anyone I did, and you have to pretend you don’t think this is stupid-“

“I don’t think it’s stupid-”

You give him a flat look. “Benjamin-“

“I think Butcher’s a fucking ball strainer.” Ben shrugs, fisting his paper into a ball and tossing it onto the floor. “But I’ve got you, Sunshine, so I’m good.”

You flush, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Ball strainer’s a new one. I like it.”

“Good,” Ben mutters, relaxing under your hands, the glow returning in his chest. “Who the fuck did you get.”

“I’m not telling you.”

“Why the fuck not, I told you mine-“

“Which you weren’t supposed to do.” You give him a flat look, and he rolls his eyes. “It’s Secret Santa. You’ll find out with everyone else.

“What’s the fucking point of being married,” Ben grumbles, pulling you a little further up his chest. “If my wife won’t tell me all her secrets.”

“You already know all my secrets, Benjamin.”

“Not fucking all of them-“

“This isn’t a secret.” You smile at him, and the glow spreads up his spine. “It’s a surprise.”

“Whatever.” He grumbles. “Sounds like a fucking secret.”

You kiss his cheek with a soft hum. “Grumpy-“

Your words die in a yelp as Ben flips you over, crashing his mouth into yours with a fervor, his hands squeezing and kneading at your waist.

“Brat,” he growls, and you have to bite your tongue to hold down a loud plea of his name. “I’m going to fuck you stupid, Sunshine, make you fucking drool and beg.” He bites on your lower lip, his knee pushing back to your core, and you whimper. “But you need to keep quiet.”

You will not be able to keep quiet. You’re grinding desperately against him, your mouth slack and open, and your whole body warm and sensitive and buzzing with Ben. Leaving wet, open kisses down your neck, replacing his knee with a broad hand cupping your pussy, groaning onto your skin as he twitches against your thigh.

“Ben-“

“Do you need some fucking help?” He drawls, crawling back up over you with a smirk. “Can’t keep that smart, pretty mouth closed?”

“Fuck,” you gasp as he pushes your panties to the side, running one finger between your folds. “God, Ben, fuck you-“

“I will.” He winks at you, his whole body still filled with adoration and hunger as his tone becomes stern. “Just ask real fucking nice, and I’ll fuck you all you damn want, Sunshine.”

“Ben, please-“

“Think you can keep it the fuck down?”

You nod frantically as Ben’s thumb moves to your clit, rubbing around it but never on it. A metallic tang sits in your mouth as you chew through your cheek, and Ben must see the tint of red or feel the sting of pain, because he pulls back suddenly, and you can’t stop your moan of protest.

“Not going to let you fucking hurt yourself.” He mutters, raising your legs up as he pulls off your underwear. You can talk here, he balls up the cloth, rising back up over your body. But that’s it. Got it?

You glance at the underwear in his hand, and swallow as you realize what he means, your mouth falling open without a single other thought.

Fucking words-

Got it. You smile up at him, curling a hand in his shirt to tug him down into a deep, easy kiss, pulling his tongue between your teeth. Fuck me.

He rises back up, scanning over your features with an attentive, rough care that pulls you apart and makes your whole body molten. There’s a sharp, sore ache over his skin and in his muscles, his free hand trailing slowly over your thighs, and God, if he doesn’t fuck you right now you might die.

Please, Ben. You grind up into the air, letting all of your love and thirst for him leak out of your body and into his. Please.

You can see the moment it hits him. His eyes flash, his nostrils flare, and if there was anything holding him back from just fucking you it’s gone. He presses his thumb on your lower lip in a silent request for you to open, and when you do he looks almost feral. He groans as he stuffs your panties into your mouth, tracing broad fingers over your cheekbones and squeezing your waist as he draws back.

Going to go slow, he mutters in your head, angling your hips up into the air so your ass is resting on his thighs, your dripping pussy is fully at his mercy. Take my fucking time.

Ben-

He slaps your pussy once, and your moan is muffled as your eyes roll back in your head.

So fucking wet, he says your name in the silence, smirking at you as he repeats the movement and your hips buck into the air. And fucking needy, already whining and I’ve barely damn touched you-

Please, you widen your eyes at him, your fingers curling in the sheets when he drags his thumb up, over your slit, and presses hard on your clit. Fuck, Ben-

What do you want, darling. He presses his thumb down, angling it so he can tease your already fluttering cunt with two forefingers. You want my fingers? He shoves them deep into you, crooking them as they hit that deep, soft spot that makes everything in your body sing.

Fuck-

Or, he kisses a sloppy path down your chest—pausing only to flick his tongue over your nipple and smirk at your high, muffled noise of need—and moves one hand back to your hips, adjusting you further upwards as he buries his face between your legs. My mouth?

His beard brushes and tickles your thighs as he tongue-fucks you, his nose bumping your clit, and God, it’s everything. Ben’s everything. Just the sight of him—in all his stupid, handsome glory, all of it just for you—makes you dizzy. And he’s touching you like you’re holy and grinning against your cunt as you make high, muffled sounds, and you’re so close already and he’s so good-

Ben. You don’t have to the strength to push up on your elbows and fully look at him, and he’s holding you still with big, warms hands that pull and rub at your skin, so all you can do is moan into the mock-gag and arch your back when he licks a rough stripe up your cunt. Fuck, Ben, I need you, please-

He hums against you, flattening his tongue on your clit as one hand snakes back under your ass, playing and teasing around your cunt, never pushing in. You like this, darling? Like getting my mouth and fingers the needy fucking miracle you are, like it when I fucking worship your perfect pussy-

Yes, please-

He shoves two fingers back into you, pumping and scissoring as he flicks his tongue over that bundle of nerves. Tell me how good it feels, Sunshine, talk to me-

So good, you whine, and he chuckles in a way that rolls right into the tight coil near your gut. Fuck, Ben, fuck me, please-

That what you want? He rises back up with one last suck of your clit, leaving you whining and empty and fuck, he’s so handsome and all yours and looking at you like you’re some sort of god-

Benjamin-

His cock slaps on your clit—you don’t even know when he took off his pants, because everything is just a haze of warm and pine and Ben and good—and you fucking squeal.

You want my fucking cock, beautiful? Want me to make you squirt all over my fucking dick, fuck you like you deserve, fuck you until that smart, pretty mouth is fucking drooling and screaming my name-

Please, you hook your legs around his waist, trying to guide him inside you. Want you-

Beg.

I did, you asshole- The gag barely muffles your moan as Ben teases the head of his cock inside you, and you almost fly off the bed. Fuck, please-

More.

Please, Ben, please fuck me, please-

Good girl. He pushes himself inside you without further warning, primal satisfaction glowing over his ribs and abdomen as ghosting, iridescent fire covers your skin. So fucking beautiful, he growls your name between your heads, dragging himself out and slamming back in with a bruising force. Fucking perfect. So tight and wet for me, Sunshine, always so fucking good-

Ben groans as you squeeze around him, but he doesn’t pick up the pace. He just moves your hips a little higher, towering over you as he slowly thrusts in and out of your aching pussy.

Fuck, you’re a goddamn marvel, beautiful, feel like fucking heaven, could die here-

Ben, you whimper around your underwear, somehow finding the strength to reach up to him. Please, faster-

It’s all he needs. Ben’s praise becomes slurred as he fucks into you at an inhuman pace, his skin slapping sinfully against yours and his cock bumping your cervix with every thrust.

Christ, fuck- He falls over you, kissing over your collarbone before sucking on your neck, his movements becoming jerking and uncontrolled. You’re- fuck- Such a good girl, taking my cock so fucking good, fucking made for me, best fucking pussy I’ve ever seen, fucking love you-

You’re so close. Everything in you is alight and desperate for release, and you’re only a split second from begging for it when Ben groans against you, rising up to watch you with a devout, starved focus you can feel pounding in your heart.

You’re perfect. His voice in your head is deep and so fucking hungry, and you whimper. Cum, Sunshine.

Release rips through your body, and Ben rips your underwear out of your mouth, slamming his lips over yours and kissing you into the mattress. You scream down his throat as he fucks you through your orgasm, and when something warm and wet flows out of your pussy, Ben’s cock starts to jerk and spill into you. It’s so warm and blissful and made of Ben’s ardor and pleasure, and it sends you over the edge once more.

Neither of you try to move for a minute, Ben’s brow dropping to yours as you sit in his safe, certain warmth.

“We’ve got dinner.” He mutters, kissing the space between your eyes as he pulls out of you. “Go shower, beautiful.”

“You need to shower as well-“

“I’ll shower after.” Ben shrugs, rubbing on your thigh as he sits on the edge of the mattress. “You’re a bigger mess than me, darling.”

“Then I,” you mumble, and he rolls his eyes, jagged affection flaring in his body. “And I’m only a mess because you’re a tease, Pretty Boy.”

Ben snorts, leaning down to give you one last, soft kiss. “You love it,” he mutters onto your lips. “See you downstairs.”

You don’t move for a while after the door closes behind him, and you don’t know how long passes when Ben sparks in your chest, his words low in your head.

Move, Sunshine. Dinner’s almost ready.

Shut up. You smile at the ceiling, because he’d known you would still just be lying, fucked out, in bed. I hate you.

No you don’t. You fucking love me.

I’m allowed to feel two things, cunt.

But you don’t, brat. Say it.

You roll your eyes, pushing up on the bed. I love you, you dick.

I love you too. You feel him glow in your body, and you shuffle to find where Ben had tossed your pants. See you in ten.

You nod mindlessly into the air, and pull your own paper out, smiling easily at the name. See you soon, my love.

—————

Ben worked in a fucking office. He did a goddamn commute every weekday, got dropped off at a fucking office, received a paper bag and a kiss on the cheek from his wife, then worked from nine to fucking five.

In a fucking office.

At a fucking desk.

Ben had a fucking desk. With a computer and stupid chair that spun in a circle and a mug that his son had gotten him. It said World’s Greatest Grandpa, and his wife had almost fallen over laughing when Ben showed it to her.

You think that’s fucking funny, Sunshine-

I know it’s funny, Benjamin. She’s kissed him, alive and beautiful in his arms, leaning into his body like she’d never want to be anywhere else. And they were out of Dad mugs, so it was either that or you being the World’s Best Mom.

Ben had rolled his eyes, then kept that mug where he could see it all the time. At his desk.

In his fucking office.

His office with a horrible fucking paint job, and lights that barely worked, and a printer that he had no damn idea how to use. It was why he made Kimiko print out photos of Her and Ryan, and he spent most of the day just fucking staring at them and bothering Her through the brain connection while she worked.

Because Ben was—as She’d call it—being a dramatic fucking man child. He only actually went in once or twice a week, for briefs on new missions and paperwork on old ones. The worst part of the whole fucking thing was that he still couldn’t figure out the fucking computer, and every few weeks he had to sleep at a hotel in New York for a case. In reality he got paid damn well, woke up next to the most beautiful woman in fucking history every morning, and picked his son up from school every afternoon. He got to do work he didn’t hate, and work with people who he—against his fucking will—liked enough not to kill.

Butcher was calling it a Private Military Company. She called it Supe Cleanup. And murder maid, but most supe cleanup.

She was fucking right. In all the jobs Butcher had found for them, exactly two had been non-supe related. And whatever She said was the goddamn truth anyway, because no matter what Butcher claimed, they worked for Her. She got Neuman to give them all their damn cases, was the one who funded a lot of their fucking bullshit, and She dealt with most of the aftermath. Butcher wouldn’t say it because he was a pathetic fucking pussy, and She wouldn’t say it because she was too kind for her own damn good, but everyone else knew.

She was the fucking boss. She called the shots, and looked damn hot doing it. She was the one who killed Homelander—all Butcher had done was shoot a fucking gun, any asscuck with eyes and hands could’ve done that—and the one who built this shit up in a matter of months. She had the ideas for the supe reform programs, and employed all the lawyers who represented the countless victims of Vought and Homelander. Christ, She even got Butcher the damn license to be a private contractor, and convinced that Defense Secretary pussy to hire them the post-Vought efforts. She was the one with a real damn job.

Ben, Butcher, Frenchie, and Kimiko sat around until someone told them there was work to do, and then they damn did it and went home.

She testified before congress. She dealt with all the fucking press idiots, and offered the supes second chances the pussies didn’t deserve, and made sure everyone got their reparations. Ben wasn’t really sure what the fuck the actual mission statement of Her whole thing was—She’d explained it, tits pressed together as she crossed her arms, and he hadn’t remembered all her big, fancy fucking words—but he knew she was doing something good. She ran a real company, not a group of four fucking assholes.

“It’s not a company, Benjamin.” She’d told him, straddling his torso and pouting down at him as his hands kneaded her skin. “It’s a non-profit.”

“What’s the damn difference,” he’d grumbled, and she’d sighed, tapping her fingers on his chest.

“Well, if it’s a company I don’t get any government funding. And as a non-profit we get exempt from certain taxes, and it lends us a certain credibility, which is important because a lot of people aren’t going to trust us. Which I understand, this is a mess, but we also can’t give the media or public anything that might lend to confirmation bias-“

Ben had pulled Her down as she started to spiral into a fucking overdrive, and kissed her until she relaxed in his arms.

Don’t fucking hurt yourself, Sunshine. He’d muttered. You had me with ‘well��.

That was- She’d let out a small gasp as Ben nipped on her upper lip, her voice breathy in their heads. I hadn’t even started talking-

I know. He’d smirked against Her, rolling them over so he could look down at Her beautiful face, how it was open and easy and all his to keep joyful. You have me all the damn time, darling.

Good. She’d smiled up at him, Ben might have drowned in how fucking perfect she was. Because you have me as well.

He didn’t have Her now. Ben had Her everywhere in the world, except in his arms. She was in the flicking, golden light of the office, and the off-key, horrible fucking humming Butcher was doing across the room, and wallpaper of his phone. Both She and Ryan were in pieces all over Ben’s desk as well. Not just in the pictures, but the little paper guide She’d made him to the internet. It told him how shit like URLs and emails and incognito mode worked, and it was in Her handwriting because She loved him enough to help him with this. Ryan had contributed, and drawn a little fucking smile on the corner of one of the pages, and Ben kept it open to that section all the damn time.

Ryan was mostly in that stupid damn mug that Ben kept on his desk every moment, even when he wasn’t using it.

She was mostly in the ring on Ben’s finger. Matching Her’s, the only thing he ever owned that he gave a shit about. He’d had houses and trophies and diamonds and stupid fucking crystal plates that barely damn worked, but they’d all been replaceable. This ring wasn’t. It was made of all the stupid scrap Frenchie had found in the pawn shop, and fireproof because his beautiful, perfect wife was a fucking menace.

And She wasn’t fucking replaceable. The ring proved that Ben had Her—alive in his body and consuming his every damn thought—and he’d never fucking lose Her. He simply fucking refused to, because he’d never, ever be able to find someone he knew how to love half as much. Christ, he’d never had a goddamn chance, because loving Her might be the only thing Ben had ever been a natural at. He’d learned how to do it without effort, like it was something he was born for, and he’d never want to do anything else again. He was the only pussy in the world who was worthy of it, as well.

Ben was worthy of Her, because he fucking understood that She was priceless and holy. That loving Her was a task, but fuck it was worth it. Every nightmare and hollow, glassy stare when she retreated back into pain—the feeling like torture in Ben’s body, making him feel fucking sick until she smiled again—was well worth it to love Her. Worth how he might not be the only one who got to see all Her damn perfection on the surface—beauty and kindness and smart words that came with a smarter fucking brain—but it was Ben alone who got to see everything. The whole picture of this insane, infuriating, perfect woman.

And fuck, She was a masterpiece. And She was all fucking Ben’s. All his to tend to and hold, all his to throw around and fight besides, all his to grin at and care for and really fucking love. All Ben’s to give the whole damn world, and then reduce it all to a moan of his name when he fucked Her. When he buried his head in Her pretty pussy that tasted like a heady, slightly bitter, powerful fucking drug and rubbed Her clit until she squirted all over his fucking face. All Ben’s to trace with worshipping, firm hands, all Ben’s to get fucking high on.

Because sometimes he’d have his hand braced near Her head as he fucked her, and she’d be a needy fucking mess under him, and he’d trace fingers over Her lips and cheekbones before brushing the hair from Her face.

And his ring would catch the light through their blind shades.

And Ben would lose his fucking mind.

He’d hit a pace that was inhuman, and kiss Her everywhere he could fucking reach. Breathing would feel pointless, because he had his wife under him, screaming his name and being the only thing in the whole world that mattered. All of Ben’s existence would narrow to his mouth on her own, or kissing at Her breasts, or sucking on her clit. His hands would be for squeezing and pulling Her skin, or tracing and teasing over her perfect body, or thrusting fingers in and out of Her pussy. Shoving them deep enough his ring would come out covered in her arousal, crooking them until she was pleading and whining under him, and tasting Her when he pulled them out, leaving Her ruined and whimpering on the edge.

And he’d split Her open on his cock, make Her say his name like a prayer, and fuck Her until she squirted all over his cock and he could pump her full of his cum-

Stop distracting me, Benjamin.

I didn’t fucking do anything. He drawled Her name between their heads, smirking into the air. You’re the one who’s distracting me, brat.

Shut up, you’re probably at your desk watching baseball. And you know what you fucking did.

Ben rolled his eyes, turning off his monitor, and with it the MBA game. I don’t have a damn clue what you’re talking about, Sunshine, you spoke first-

Because you started getting horny and loud in my brain, and I’m at work. I can’t start masturbating while I talk to MM and Hughie, they’ll never look me in the eyes again.

Tell them to fucking leave.

I’m not kicking them out of our meeting so we can have mind sex.

You’ve kicked them out so we can have real sex-

Ben could almost see the wrinkle of Her nose. That’s not the same, you looked like you were going to kill them if they didn’t leave-

I hadn’t seen you in a fucking week-

Three days, don’t be dramatic-

And, Ben ignored Her, pushing on. Those pussies chose to leave, it’s not like I fucking threatened them-

They could see your boner, my love. Her voice was bored and amused in his head, and Ben wanted to fucking eat the sound and turn it into a moan. And you almost broke down my door demanding we go on a date, and I quote, ‘right fucking now’-

We should go on a date-

Ben-

Tonight, darling, keep your damn head on. You can stash Ryan at Butcher’s, the asshole looks fucking lonely anyway-

Don’t call it stashing, Ben-

Fine, drop him there after you pick him up-

I was actually, um, I was going to- She paused, and Ben could almost hear her nervous swallow. I wanted to ask, and you can say no, but I-

Words, darling-

Could you pick up Ryan today? I have to go do something.

Ben frowned into the air. Something.

Her voice hummed in his head. Yeah.

Are you going to fucking tell me-

No. It’s a surprise.

It’s a fucking secret-

Ben. Her voice was soft and gentle in his head, and that alone made his frown drop to what She called a pout.

What.

If it was a secret, I would’ve told you I’m working late, or going out with Annie and Kimiko, or something else stupid. But it’s not a secret, I just can’t tell you right now.

She was right. She was always fucking right, and Ben had an idea what this was, but he still missed Her. Wanted to touch her and walk with her and make Her bury her face in his arm when he teased her. You’re going to fucking tell me.

I promise that, by the end of the month, I will have told you. And we can do that date on Christmas eve. Whatever you want.

You don’t have to damn bribe me-

I know. She sighed in the silence, and something in Ben ached as Her own guilt clouded over his eyes. But I want to go on a date with you. And I really want to tell you what I’m doing-

You’re getting a gift. Ben said between their heads, and there was a brief silence before She responded.

Shut up.

Ben drawled Her name, grinning at the air. You’re going to get your gift for the stupid fucking Santa thing-

No, I need to go to the mall for that. Actually, She paused, and Ben felt a smile tug at his lips as he pictured Her pretty face starting into the air, her fingers tapping her desk or leg. Could you take Ryan to the mall? Help him get his gifts? And maybe new pants, I think he grew again-

You have to go with us to get the tree.

If Her nose hadn’t been wrinkling before, it sure as fuck was now. I thought I didn’t have to bribe you, Pretty Boy-

It’s not a fucking bribe, Sunshine, it’s a deal. You go do your secret shit-

My surprise shit-

And I’ll get Ryan and do the fucking shopping. But we’re doing that date, and you’re coming with us for the tree.

Okay. Deal. Ben?

He grunted Her name between their heads, and something warm spread over his whole body at the sound of Her sweet, sharp, infinitely adoring voice.

I love you. She whispered. Thank you-

Don’t. Ben muttered. I love you too. But if you’re not home by midnight I’m finding you and carrying you back.

Her giggle was soft in the silence of the office, and Ben didn’t bother to fight the wide grin on his face. Promise?

Brat.

Cunt.

She faded back into a quiet, perfect presence over Ben’s skull, and now he actually had to damn work. But then he’d get to pick Ryan up—Ben didn’t fucking know how shopping worked without Her there, and he didn’t think Ryan would either, but they’d figure it out—and kiss Her dumb when she got back from whatever the hell she was doing.

She’d tell him. Ben didn’t have a single fucking doubt She’d tell him, because they didn’t keep secrets from each other. Ben could feel Her all the fucking time, and knew exactly where she was across the city, and he didn’t have a single damn desire to keep anything from Her at all. He didn’t see the point in it. That’s what fucking marriage was for, Ben giving his everything to Her, while She gave every part of her right back.

It’s why he was so fucking ready for the holidays. Ben hadn’t had a real Christmas since he was fucking six or seven. They’d either been spent at boarding schools or in military camps through his youth, or at drug-fueled parties through his career. Or just fucking alone. When everyone had people to go to that they cared about more, and Ben didn’t have a single fucking person who saw him as their person.

He’d told Her that, and something soft and pained had flashed over her beautiful face as she held his face between his hands. He’d expected an age joke—So in a hundred fucking years, Pretty Boy?—but all he’d gotten was a gentle, slow kiss and loving words.

You’re my person, Benjamin. She’d mumbled against his lips. And as long as you’re stuck with that, we can do whatever you want for Christmas.

I’m not fucking stuck with it, he’d grumbled, hauling Her up his chest. I love you, Sunshine, you’re not getting rid of me until I fucking die.

She’d hummed, smiling at him. So in like a year, old man?

Ben had rolled his eyes—there She was—and kissed Her until she was squirming above him, then fucked up into her as she screamed his name.

And he didn’t really fucking want much else. There were to many damn traditions for this shit. Activities he didn’t understand, and mistletoe he didn’t fucking care about—he didn’t need a damn plant to tell him when to kiss his wife—and cards that were fucking pointless because they had six friends who they saw every damn day.

He wanted to do some of it though. Ben wanted to eat all the food, and watch whatever movie She told him to—he didn’t understand how a movie about the Grinch could be the best Christmas movie ever fucking made, Benjamin, but he’d watch most anything if She sat with him —and he really wanted to do the tree. To get a big one that made the whole house smell good, and he could cover it in stupid lights.

It should be rainbow lights. She’d fucking love rainbow lights, so Ben should get rainbow lights.

Ben should get them a lot of fucking things. He should get Ryan whatever the hell the kid needed to be a kid, and Ben hadn’t been a kid since the fucking 20s, so he’d have to ask Her and see what that shit looked like now. Probably sports gear, and a real phone that wasn’t a damn brick, and a trip to some museums because Ryan was like Her, and they both liked smart shit, and museums were full of smart shit.

She should get a trip to a museum as well, just Her and Ben. She should get twenty more houses, and a massive library that was just for Her to be a genius in, and as many breaks and vacations as Ben could drag her on. Back to their villa in Rome every summer, and up to Boston to visit Her sister, and every other beautiful place in the world.

She should get the fucking world. Ben should be able to drag the sun down from the sky for Her to hold, and break of a piece of the moon for Her to touch.

But this—a normal, easy holiday where Ben could buy find Her something as perfect as she was for a gift—was going to be damn good place to start.

End Note: It was bold of any of them to think Ben would be able to keep any sort of secret from Her.

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karlachismylife · 3 months ago

Text

Wrote the intro the day I started this work and decided to leave it since it reflects the shitstorm in my head quite well, eh.

Okay Idk what it is with me today (I actually do know, I'm having a bad fucking night as a consequence of my own actions but I prefer not to think about it), but I just thought about task force 141 and reader that has such a bad withdrawal after their orgasm that they actually cry and not in a fun way (cue my lack of understanding how crying in bed can ever be fun, but i'm not here to kinkshame)

CW: NSFW (so minors and ageless blogs DNI, I'll block you), but there's barely any sex, hurt/comfort, body image issues, low self-esteem, chubby/fat!reader, written with afab!reader in mind (but most parts can be read as gn), potential mental health issues (?), thoughts of selfloathing and selfharm, smoking mentioned once at the end. Very self-indulgent and I'm definitely unwell, so yeah. It's also more focused on reader's inner shitstorm than the guys in many places so idk if this even really is enjoyable...

Starts as a single piece, then splits into individual blurbs/drabbles/oneshots + some polyamory cuz I'm spoiling myself today having done nothing to deserve it, lol.

They vary in size and tone since I've been writing them through several ups and downs in my own mental state, so please don't take this as a sign of which characher/combo is my favourite. I'm greedy, I like everything.

This is unfair.

Like, you just had wonderful sex, probably came more than once in a short period of time, ears stuffed with cotton, limbs weak, head spinning... and it keeps spinning, sweet tingling on the skin turning into nasty rushes of cold, muscles too tense, but it's not a cramp.

You feel like shit, every possible hormonal and neuromediator crash downing on you, a hollow, depressing weight in your chest instead of a sweet afterglow. Sweat and cum feel disgusting on you skin, your skin feels disgusting, strangling, your whole body seems revolting, too heavy, too sluggish. A sticky, suffocating heatwave on your nape, but your chest is cold and covered in goosebumps, a feverish feeling clogging every pore. Nausea wrenches into your stomach and stops just before you can relievingly barf and get rid of this parasite inside.

You simply want to dig your nails into your own shoulders instead of his and rip the skin and meat off, free yourself from this burden (you're the burden). Each second as he stays blissfully unaware, holding you tightly with his big hands and panting into the crook of your neck, drags on like a hundred hours of pure torture - the torture of being yourself.

Throwing up feels like an appropriate reaction to how unappealing and ugly you feel.

You're spiraling. You couldn't fucking keep your own messed up emotional outburst - completely unreasonable and unprovoked, by the way - to yourself, and now it's going to be noticed. You'll ruin someone else's fun. Make it all about yourself when you've already been nothing but doted on, cared and provided for. Fucked so good that your body is still clenching around that magnificent cock deep inside you.

And you're fucking crying, like an ungrateful, egotistical brat. Never having enough, unable to provide something as simple as a hole to make someone else happy without fucking it up.

Ghost notices immediately. There's nothing that can escape this man, and definitely not his love's distress. He's not reacting immediately for a sole reason: he's frozen in fear, horrified that he made you cry. How - he's not sure, he always takes great care to stay within limits, never allows himself to push you further than you both agree on. But what if he slipped up? What if he got carried away? Did he cause pain? Did he say something hurtful in the heat of the moment?

"Fuck. Hey, hey, lovie... look at me... wha's wrong? Did I... did I hurt ya?" Good thing you're hiding your face and your red eyes so desperately that you can't see how distressed and downright terrified Simon looks, lost at the sight of your tears. When you shake your head and attempt to push him away to hide your pathetic sobbing, he somewhat calms down and brings his big calloused hands to cradle your face, gently prying your own palms away and holding your puffy cheeks tenderly. His thumbs brush your tears away as he holds you, holds you through the growing rage fit of touch aversion, through the shudders and actual wailing. At some point he moves his palm to cover your eyes, a dry, dark blinder to keep the world around you shut out, help you concentrate on his voice.

He's not talking, just humming, a familiar, deep, grumbling noise that soothes all the flashes of anger, hate and disgust in your brain. You're tired now, like you're always are after such an intense outburst, and as you go limp, he finally pulls away, only to pick you up - barely a strain, a direct spit in the face of your own insecurity - and bring you to the bathroom. A warm shower evens your distorted body temperature out, his hands running over your body and cleaning all the stickiness away bring back peace with your own skin. After a quick rinse Simon holds you, your head cradled against his chest, until you make a weak attempt to help him wash too - he lets you trace his body, that perfection you adore with all its old wounds, sores and scars, for a bit, and then finishes himelf.

Gives you fresh cotton underwear and his hige T-shirt, still holding you around your shoulders and keeping the comfortable pressure even while he changes the bedsheets, kissing your temple as you find it in yourself to help.

It's only after you settle on top of him, nice, clean comforter protecting your back against the world, head on his chest right next to his heart beating in a steady rythm, he finally breaks silence.

"Need anything else, lovie?" Just like that. No prying, no occusations, nothing that would put you on the spot. You can ask him to bring you the moon soaked in unicorn's milk, and he'll just nod, kiss your hand and start dressing up, already calling Johnny to ask where the fuck did Scots hide their last horned horse and if he happens to know where they enlist astronauts.

"Just you."

His grip on the small of your back tightens and you feel his uneven, scarred lips graze the top of your head.

"Ya've got me. Always."

Soap is running hot like a furnace, still shivering and panting after what he considers the best sex he has ever had (every time with you is). He lifts his face, buried into the crease of your neck previously, and starts peppering you with slightly sloppy, grateful kisses - your neck, your jaw, your lips, your...

When he tastes your tears and opens his unbelievably blue eyes to see your expression contorted in disgust, he panics. Pulls away immediately, hands both itching to grab you and shake a reason for that look on your face out of you and too scared to touch you in case this hatred is directed at him.

"Whit's wrong, leannan? Are ye a'right? Ye didnae lik' it? Shite, lass, Ah'm so sorry, Ah didnae mean tae-" He stops yapping only when he notices the way your lips tremble as you try to plead with him, sobbing that it's not his fault.

"'M sorry, I ruined it... I'm so sorry, sushine, I just... fuck I wish I wasn't so bloody sick in the head and ugly..." Speaking out loud only worsens your anger, directed solely at yourself, and you try to wipe your eyes furiously. As the tears keep rolling, your frustration only grows - maybe if you yanked your own hair really good or slapped the disgusting pudgy cheek you've despised ever since chidhood as everyone kept pointing out how big they were...

"Ye didnae just call the love of mah fucking life ugly." Johnny's voice is a mix of a harsh order to cut your bullshit and pure disbelief. His huge paws wrap themselves around your wrists, stopping you both from harming yourself and covering your face. You're forced to look at him, and as you do, you see his handsome face flushed with a passionate anger at the intrusive thoughts in your head, heavy frown in his thick eyebrows and the sea in his eyes dark and deep enough to drown a whole fleet. You'd be scared if it wasn't obvious how hurt he is underneath it all - like a kid whose favourite plushie just got mocked by his classmates.

"It's just a toy," adults would say, and they would be bloody wrong.

"Tis not a toy, tis mah friend."

You're his friend. His love. His heart, his soul, his everything - he whispers that frantically, kissing you over and over, hot palms running over your body, wiping the cold, the stickiness, the goosebumps away. You don't have time to think, to spiral again, you're drowning in that exact sea that's spilling from his eyes, staring at you with pure devotion - a sea of affection, admiration, love, love, love.

Johnny nuzzles up to you like an animal seeking comfort, hides into your chest, right after he kisses your sweaty double chin, breathes in deeply, lets go of your soft shoulders only to grab two handfuls of your tummy, kneading it, warming up the stale blood, squeezing your big thighs between his and getting lost in the frenzy - he honestly doesn't even remember already that he was comforting you, he's fully in the worshipping mode, leaving you no chance to dip even a single toe into the self-conscious thoughts again.

You'll just have to stay there, every single tear lapped up from your face, and accept every greedy touch and word of a man utterly in love with you. Even the messed up parts.

Gaz keeps his cool despite how distraught even the thought of your sadness makes him. First of all he moves aside to give you space, makes sure you're not hurt, asking in his usual kind - unbelievably kind, so much that you burst into tears again, feeling undeserving of such unapologetically soft treatement, tone.

"Shh, shush, gorgeous, you're not hurt, are you? It's okay, c'mere, jus-st like tha', very good, love," praises keep spilling from his tender lips as he carefully helps you sit up, simply dragging you away from the damp from sweat and everything else spot on the sheets. He ends up balancing half his bare ass off the edge of the bed, but it doesn't bother him in the slightest as he feels you already coming back from that hopeless place as soon as your body gets stuck between clean, dry and a bit cool sheet and Kyle's firm lean body of a litearal god - or a prince, at least.

His deft fingers are already at work, massaging your scalp, chasing the tension away, but the second he feels you grow uncomfortable with the repetitive movement, he stops and retreats to simply holding you in a steady, reliant embrace. You know he's good with his words, that's how he got you, swept off your feet completely and made you swoon with sweet compliments, hilarious snark and smart talk.

You just don't expect him to do it all over again in the face of your burdened mind crumbling in the paradise.

"Talk to me, angel. Let me inside that pretty head, hm?"

It takes this sweettalker just a couple of words to coax whatever that ugly, slimy knot in your throat is, out. You sob, retelling Kyle every single thought that has been stuck in that coagulated mess in your head, spill the bile that has been burning your retching throat, out in the open, for him to see the disgusting ugliness of your insides - matching your outside.

Somehow throughout your choking trade his soft, careful hand never leaves your back, rubbing circles of different radius and intensity into your skin to keep the aggression at monotonous touch at bay.

"Must've been some terrible person to overbear your spirit and plant all those lies in your mind, angel." You don't catch the meaning of his words at first, glancing at him confused and whoozy after you exploded with self-deprication. Those dark, calm eyes look at you no different than before: quiet, calm reverence and determination. A thread of spider's silk, thin as a hair, but stronger than steel, his love does not waver. Were you in the right state to actually pay attention, you would've seen it only grow.

"Well, beautiful, this isn't how I planned to start writing poetry, but since you insisted... maybe I can think of a diss track about you."

"A diss track?.." Poor you, so upset that you can't catch onto the mischievous glint in his eyes and that silly smooth sarcasm slipping into his words. You're actually half a step away from believing he would diss you, destroying that already non-existent self-esteem once and for all.

"Yup. Gotta diss-tract you from all that bullshit in your head for good. Unless you'd rather me fuck it out of you instead?"

You cannot not smile at that, even if it's a weak, timid smile. Kyle's face still lights up as if he sees an actual angel, bringing the good grace or whatever.

"There ya go. First step of the mission? Success. Permission to continue? I repeat, permission to continue?"

"You spend too much time with Simon. Permission granted..."

Price undrstands what's going on before he even hears your first sob, the tension in your body and the change in your breath telling him all he needs to know. There's enough experience in this man for the both of you, he has learnt to read people and immediately accomodate them in a way that serves a common goal so long ago that it's a secong nature already.

Your comfort is that common goal.

With a grunt, he rolls you over, planting you firmly on top of his warm, burly body. Untucking your head from his hairy chest, he holds your face and does not let you concentrate on anything but his stern, focued gaze under those bushy eyebrows - but there's still that undeniable tenderness in his eyes that's always there whenever John looks at you.

His voice sounds usual too: a calm, commanding, but not harsh tone, not a loud bark any of his subordinates would hear, yet still an order. "Look at me, darling. Tha's right, look at me, look at your John. You shut whatever's going through that troubled mind of yours out and let me take care of the rest, a'right? Can you do that for me, darling? I know you can. I'll do all the thinking for ya, eh?"

Giving control over to him feels natural at any other moment, but right now you're too deep in the trenches of the war with your own mind, hissing at you with pure disgust for being so selfish. Really, now? Had to use this sweet, caring man for your own needs, and now you're dumping all your perverted, fucked up baggage on him too?

"Nuh-huh, ya're still thinking. Told ya to cut if off. You know that's not you thinking right now, dontcha? You're a smart one, love, ya know shit like this happens. And when shit happens, who are you going to to deal with it, huh?" His deep voice rumbles in his chest, seeps into your clogged ears, fills your skull with the unyielding determination and leaves no room for your own dark thoughts.

When you hesitate to answer, John slides his rough palms over your back, tracing your soft rolls and landing onto the pudge of your hips, squeezing lightly to remind you who's in charge and what your task is. "Who is there for ya to deal with shit that happens, hm, darling? Need ya to tell me."

You want to hide, escape his demand for an answer, but he keeps you firmly in his embrace, a gaze of steel unmoving from you. It almost makes you tear up again, almost feels mean of him to put you on the spot, when all you want to do is curl up in a dark corner and stay there for all eternity. But the love you have for this man overpowers even the seething hatred you bear for yourself, so you give up and murmur meekly: "You..."

"Tha's right, darling, it's your John. I'm here to deal with everything that bothers ya. Everything, ya hear? Tha's me job. Your job is to stay wit' me 'n' not overthink, eh? Especially not when it's just hormons making ya feel bad." You have nothing else left to do, other than sniffle into his chest and melt under a warm kiss he plants on your crown. "How about a cuppa, eh, darling? And something just as sweet as ya for a bite. Ya'll feel better in no time, I promise."

Ghost and Soap cancel each other's panicking out. As soon as both you and Simon slip out of the sweet afterglow, falling backwards each into your own pit of self-doubt and spiraling, Johnny starts babbling, terrified at the thought of both his beloved people feeling worse after being with him. His slurred, panting words and frantic kisses help Simon shake of his own horror - in return, he squeezes Johnny's shoulder to slow the worried mutt down and redirect his energy into helping you. Soap tenses up under the firm touch of his Lieutenant, then relaxes again, leaning into him for a moment to collect himself - they charge from each other, mere seconds of feeding off each other's energies in the middle of a time-limited mission with the highest stakes: your well-being.

They exchange glances, no words needed after the way their work together almost makes them mindreaders to each other, and turn back to you as you lay there, face painfully contorted in an attempt to keep the black foamy bile you feel rising in your throat from spilling. Slow, sticky, angry tears run down your flabby cheeks, and with each millimetre they go, your scalding wish to gouge your eyes out with your bare hands grows, just to punish yourself for being ungrateful after two perfect men spent so much of their time making you feel good.

"Dinnae cry, bonnie. Ye're a'right, ye're 'ere, wit' us. Right, LT? We're nae gonnae let ye marinate in whitevur got ye so upset." The pressure from inside your body that threatened to burst you open into a messy explosion of bile and rot, gets evened out from outside by Johnny's tight hug. He squeezes you up to the painful point, cradling against his broad chest, holding the fort while Simon leaves the bed, but not without kissing both your palms and holding them against his lips until he feels the cold leave your fingertips.

"Oi, Johnny. Help lovie get in 'ere," he calls out several minutes later out of the bathroom. Soap, who has been holding you and allowing you to sob against his heart this whole time, stroking your sweaty hair and murmuring every word of love he knows, scoops you up immediately. He pads over with you in his arms to where a warm bath is already filled thanks to Simon, and when you react to the temperature with another wave of tears, they both reach out to the tap simultaneously.

"Is tha' a'right, bonnie?" You make a strangled noise as Johnny finally sets you down into much cooler now water. It soothes you, makes you feel instantly cleaner, smaller, lighter. Breathing gets easier, that swollen blob of anger and disgust shrinking down in your chest and allowing you to inhale bathroom's damp air normally. You open your mouth to apologize and get cut off before even a single syllable leaves your mouth.

"Don't," Simon's voice sounds gruff, but even his murky reflection in the rippling water looks genuinely soft towards you. They're both perched on the cold bath edge, naked and seemingly not caring about that at all. "Jus' let us take care of you, yeah, love? Tha's what we're here for. Tha's what we want to do."

"Well, actually, there's one more thing," Johnny interjects, causing you to finally lift your sullenly lowered head and look at him, Simon's big palm using this moment of distraction to press onto your back in silent support. "Can Ah make ye a foam beard? Please, bonnie? Ye jus' 'ave the prettiest sweetest cheeks fur tha'."

Soap and Gaz feel like their world is sinking into a whirlwind of stormy clouds, the kind that sucks all light out of sky in mere seconds and can't be cut through even by blinding flashes of lightnings. There is no sun in their skies if you're not smiling, and the sound of your muffled sniffles hits their eardrums harder than thunder or explosions. The frowns distorting their faces only make you more self-aware of the fact that you ruined things between you - the initial hysteria starts rapidly flowing into complete shutdown, threatening to turn you into an emotionless shell for unknown period of time, when several warm, big hands intervene and cut the depressing trajectory down at its root.

"Damn, we did a shit job fucking all your thoughts out, didn't we, angel?" Kyle's joke sounds soft, teasing, but empathetic, ready to be met with sobs or silence instead of the usual laughter that flashes your teeth at him and makes his own smile grow brighter.

"Aye, we did. If anythin', Ah think we put more thoughts intae 'ere instead," Johnny scratches his head dramatically, and then you feel his big, hot palm on you sweaty forehead, as if he's trying to get a feel of the thoughts inside your skull. It doesn't linger there for long, though, rough fidgety fingers digging into your hair and tugging at the roots. This makes the hot-and-cold collar around your nape unclench, uncouth and chaotic massage confidently pulling every ounce of anger out of your brain. From time to time his calloused palm slips lower, squeezing your scruff, wiping the cool sweat away and taking control over what seems to have escaped your own.

"How does it feel to be the first person to get knocked up mentally, love? Having any cravings yet? Feeling your brainworms kick yet?" Dry cotton comforter suddenly covers your exposed to be looked at with disdain body, and before you can choke out a protest and something about you being sweaty and sticky and disgusting, Kyle grips your shoulders firmly, rubbing up and down as he slowly helps you sit up a bit.

"Ye eejit, how dae ye think thay can kick? They're brainworms, thay dinnae hae any legs!" The sheer passion in Johnny's heated counterarguement does the impossible - makes the corners of your deeply upset mouth twitch against all the weight the sadness put on them. Your knights in shining (from all the sweat your lovemaking covered them with) armor of their own warm skin seem to not notice the slightest twitch of your lips - there's no excessive attention drawn to you, none of them puts you on the spot. Their touch isn't going anywhere, but it almost seems mindless, simply their need to have something soft and pleasant to squeeze in their restless hands. "'N' wasnae Mary th' first lassie tae get up th' duff through th' heid?"

"That wasn't mentally, that was spiritually, read your books, Soap," scoffs Kyle, as if it was the most obvious thing, and ducks just in time to avoid a pillow thrown at him with sniper's precision.

"Oi, ye sayin' Ah cannae read now?!" Whatever snarky retort Kyle was ready to shoot, gets wiped out as Johnny tackles him, barely avoiding pushing all three of you off the bed. Their scuffle consists of chokeholds and sneaky kisses, legs getting caught in the sheets and somehow tangling you into the mess too.

Until you laugh, finding yourself squished into Johnny's hairy chest with Kyle in a gently headlock somewhere under your arm.

"Hey, hey, careful, mate, our lovie's expecting, we can't just throw 'em around!" However obvious that deflection is, Johnny reacts as if you were actually with child and grabs your face, boring his eyes into yours, slowly widening his two blue lochs in pretend horror.

"Och naw! Ah think we lost 'em, Ah cannae see nothin' there now!" Flushed after the playfight, you avert your gaze, still a trace of self-consciousness about yout outburst somewhere deep inside, but none of the "brainworms" that clogged your insides in sight indeed. Johnny's little drama earns him a soft nip on his thumb from you, and he smiles at you, clearly satisfied with the effect their little scheme had.

"Aw, damn, and here I was, ready to hear the pitter-patter of 'em little feet," Kyle's warm lips somehow find their way to kiss your temple, eliciting another shy giggle.

A pillow crashes onto both of you with the force of a small bombshell.

"THAY DINNAE HAE FEET, GARRICK, THAY'RE WORMS!"

Price and Gaz fall into their usual ways seamlessly, responsibilities and tasks split between the two seemingly without even any verbal communication. Clearing out the space around you with the same quick efficiency they clear out enemies with, they prop you up on some pillows, assess your condition in case they got carried away and hurt you, and finally settle on both sides of you, warm hands on your knees squeezing softly.

"Are ya gonna talk to us now, lovie? Or will we have to use interrogation tactics to learn what made our love so upset?" John's voice bears no trace of threat, but it still makes you cower and try to take up even less space that your curled up body already has, which earns you a sigh from the Captain. "I see. Take over from here, Sergeant. I expect results once I return."

The matress sighs with relief a Price's weight leaves it, bare feet padding a few steps before he reaches his slippers and leaves the room. The pit that the sound of your bedroom's door closing opens in your chest is crushing your ribcage with the iron fist of vacum. You can't blame John for not willing to deal with your bullshit, but the hearbreak only reenforces the choking smog in your head that's rasping in a hundred different voices that the only thing you deserve is pure repulsion.

Kyle's soft thumb pads wipe the tears teetering on the arrows of your lashes, and in a smooth movement you find your face cupped and pulled close to his shoulder. His smooth skin sticks to your wet cheek and you find yourself crying like a little kid, the unbearable pain of the revolting dark knots inside somehow replaced with surprisingly more bearable grief over what you consider an ending reltionship. Perhaps John leaving our bed finally shattered your heart, letting the ungodly pressure out and allowing it to beat - and bleed - again.

"We'd really like if ya talked to us, angel. Don't think Captain can stand there bare-ass naked much longer, might catch rheumatism at this point, he's not getting younger, you know..."

"I hope you know I can hear you perfecrly clear, Garrick." You stop mid-sniffle, eyes snapping to the closed door. You can finally see the shadow of a man standing just outside, and the air slowly feels with some flavour you can't distinguish through all the snot yet, but seem to like a lot...

"Good, so your hearing's still intact, sir. You're in good shape," Kyle's cheeky remark must've broken John's famous patience and restraint, because the bedroom door finally opens, and you see him there. With a tray with a whole bunch of tea mugs and little plates of treats balanced in his hands.

"Still not talking? Well, we'll try another method then, lovie. Sandwich for your thoughts, eh?"

His cheeks are round with a kind smile, confusing your tortured mind even further - Kyle uses your stupor to fetch John's big, slightly scratchy bathrobe, successfully wrapping you into a cocoon of grounding stimulation all over your feverish skin. With a huff and a grumble about staying butt-naked a bit longer, John puts a pleasantly warm mug into your hands and looks at you, arms crossed and tucked into his armpits now that he got rid of the tray.

Expecting an answer.

"'M sorry..." seems appropriate right up to the moment when a little finger-sandwich gets shoved into your mouth. The bread is soft, nice, salty ham and crunchy cucumber filling your senses and cracking a bit fat line of light right in the middle of the dense cloud in your thoughts.

"Try again, love," Kyle gives a hint and wipes a crumb off your lips, licking it off his thumb. "We don't need an apology, we just want to know what's troubling ya. John, tell 'em."

"Already did," grumbles Price in response and clears his throat, sitting back down on the creaking bed. "Food's working though. Eat up, darling, get your energy. Then we'll talk properly, a'right?"

You chew slowly, still stiff in your own body, but regaining control gradually. Yes. Then you'll talk.

Ghost and Price exchange a single glance over your from, choking on the self-destructive rage, and John shakes his head so slightly that one can barely notice, but it's clear enough to stop Simon from tumbling down the traumatic spiral staircase of his own. Grounded by his Captain's presence, he shrugs his broad shoulders, shaking off the creeping up feeling of his own monsterous nature, and rolls onto his back, pulling you out of the miserable wet ball of wrinkled sheets and onto his firm lap, sideways, his big palms resting comfortably around your hips; he's not squeezing or digging his fingers into the fat like he usually does, but it's a secure hug you can't really escape.

Exposed held too far away from his chest you could hide on, you shrink, rising your shoulders protectively and trying to cover up your soft belly, spilling over your pelvis in a shapless manner - that's when John's arms come from behind, catching yours and instead of pulling away forcefully, simply repeating your own safety cocoon, hiding your body from your distorted sight and keeping you warm.

"You're not thinking straight right now, darling," every phrase he murmurs gently, calmly, convincingly into your ear is accompanied by a little kiss, beard tickling and burning your already irritated by tears skin. "So good for us, so kind. Can you spare some of that kindness for yourself?"

Even though it doesn't sound like a rhethorical question, Simon cups your cheek and shushes you tenderly, pressing his thumb to your lips, allowing John to continue with his little speech aimed to dispel the storm coagulated in your chest.

"'Cos if not, it's a'right, love. We know it's hard, and ya're doing good already. Ya 'ave us, eh? To love ya, to cherish ya. No need to overthink, jus' let us hold you, a'right?"

He finally pushes you onto Simon's chest, his big heart stuttering with worry as you seek shelter among his many scars that paint a horrifying picture once you put all the fragments together.

"How'd you do that, sir?" Simon's voice sounds vulnerable - so much that it strikes through all the layers of your egocentric self-hatred and shifts you almost immeditely into a completely different mindset; one where you throw your whole self into loving your scarred and battle-worn men in such abundance that it's ought to compensate for all the unfairness they've gone through.

There's no need for it now, you realize a little too late: Price is there, keeping Simon away from the darkness. They're fine. Better than ever. It's a distraction, a trick, a play to make your bleeding heart stop the internal self-destruction and turn to healing.

A sly little switch you're not sure they were planning to flip, but it worked.

"Hm?" As if emerging from the depths of his thoughts in response to Simon's question, John caresses your cheek as gently as his rough thumb can and then smiles, maybe catching onto the change in your mood or simply remembering all the times he pulled Ghost out of the same gloom and darkness. "Jus' taking care of me own, Simon. Tha's what a Captain does, no? Now, love, how about a shower? I reckon we can squeeze in all together and papmer you really good, what do ya say, eh?"

Ghost and Gaz manage to keep their cool. Kyle's confident and gentle presence serves to reassure any doubts Simon has about hurting you, he shoots a single glance at his sergeant and recieves support immediately. Two pair of hands cradle you with all the tenderness two soldiers are capable of, which is always enough to drown you in fully. It's a tight hug, a hot mess of limbs, too much skin on skin contact that makes your brain flare with undirected rage, but as seconds trickle by and you're still trapped between two firm bodies, you have no choice but to slip into the exhaustion phase of your outburst.

It's not pleasant, nor could you say you feel calm; if anything, you just petrify, a permanent frown on your face and blindly staring forward glass eyes. You're tired, you'd still rather be anywhere but inside your own body that still feels like a useless deformed bag that should be gutted and emptied to lighten up, inner layer of your skin scrubbed with a knife to peel off the suffocating thickness of fat trapping this heated rage inside...

Instead, you get a kiss.

It's Kyle, soft, full lips touching your wet with tears cheekbone, then again - your temple, your cheek, the overheated spot behind your ear. They're light, soft kisses, too gentle to be playful or arousing. Calming. They do not demand anything in return - he allows you to stay in your inner world where you feel secure, even pauses to kiss Simon the same way right in front of your eyes. A silent demonstrationg of the love and reverence these pecks carry, Simon's hooded eyes fluttering shut as if his own compartmentalized demons get exorcised by Garrick's touch.

"Wanna talk about it, angel?" Kyle's voice rumbles at a nice, grounding, smooth timbre, and your still-too-slow mind struggles to grasp how is it possible that he's talking and you're still getting kisses - until you recognize the uneven texture of Simon's scarred lips, trailing along your skin tenderly. "Whenever you're ready, love. But we would love to know what's going through your head right now."

It feels strange to say it out lound when you're held and caressed like this, but their kisses and solid embrace cleared your windpipe enough of the mental gunk for you to be able to speak.

"I hate myself... 'M disgusting, and-" A displeased grumbling kiss from Simon interrupts you, and even Kyle pushes his huge shoulder to reprimand his own Lieutenant for the interference. Kisses his temple immediately to make amends, though, and turns back to you, prompting you to continue.

"Wot? Don't like when someone talks shit 'bout mine," grumbles Simon like a dog that got flicked on the nose for growling at welcome guests.

"Let 'em talk, mate, it's good to get things off your chest." At least their little bickering coaxes a tiniest hint of smile out of you, and Simon, noticing it immediately, stares back at Kyle with such pride, as if he just did something great.

The thing is, in the way his arms squeeze you a tad bit tighter, pressing into his firm body, you can read that for him - your smile is the greatest achievement.

"Don't tell me you prefer his silent treatement, angel, I'm trying to be the attentive boyfriend here, and for what?" Your smile grows a little braver. A little brighter. You would've kept talking if you could remember what it was that hurt so fucking much in your chest.

"Shower. Then a cuppa. Then we have the talk." No one dares to argue with the Ghost and his gruff commands. You feel the sheet sticking to your skin as he lifts you up, Kyle already sneaking off to prepare towels and clean clothes for you three. He'll stay with you and help you wash the remaints of the mind attack off. Simon will make fresh tea.

You're going to be alright.

Price and Soap take quite an intense approach the second they notice your distress. You feel Johnny's weight disappear from you after the first strangled sob that escapes you, and if you could open your eyes glued shut by the hot, messy tears, you would see John practically dragging the poor Sergeant away by his scruff. It's easy to suspect that Johnny couldn't contain himself and went too hard, too rough on you - with no malice, but pure passion that's spilling from his big, hot heart every time he gets to be close to you.

But it's not Johnny's fault, neither is it John's. It's all you, a useless, pathetic thing, good for nothing and holding two gorgeous men to yourself like a greedy glutton hoarding delicious food.

"Ah'm sorry, bonnie- ow, Ah got it, Ah got it, Ah'm not touchin'!"

"Did we hurt ya, love? Was Johnny boy too rough wit' ya? Wha's wrong?"

You feel big warm hands gliding over your skin, quick assessment of your state in search of potential harm caused. This immediate care only makes you feel worse, every cold sweaty patch of your disgusting hide shivering and twitching under Captain's careful touch. You struggle against your own spiraling anger, fight it with what's left of your exhausted resilience - and lose, curling up with another burst of tears, shoving the loving hands away and dusting the lingering warmth off your body.

After all, you do not deserve to be treated with such kindness after the fit you just threw.

"No, no, no, it's not his fault, it's not Johnny's... it's me, it's my fault, it's all my fault, I ruin everything, I'm- I'm disgusting!"

The silence that follows you blowing up on them is heavy. Just as bad as the knot in your chest.

"Johnny."

When you open your eyes to find a way out, run away, scatter and hide in the furthest corner of the apartment until everyone who tried caring for you leaves again, you're met with Johnny's bright blue eyes, glistening with unshed tears.

It's a shocking sight, pushing you out of the muffled misery into an alerted worry - his face is red with unexplainable pained anger, fists clenched as John holds him tightly by hunched shouders, seemingly trying to prevent a violent outburst.

"Ah wanntae ken names of th' bastarts who made ye feelin' tis wa'. Ah swear Ah will mak' thaim fuckin' choke oan thair ain tongues, Ah'll rip thair spines oot 'n' shove thaim up thair-" - "Enough, Johnny. Stand down. This won't solve anythin'. Ya calm down and help our lovie feel better, a'right?"

Still a bit shells-hocked, you stir on the bedsheets and push yourself up to sit upright, stretching your arms hesitantly to the men in a weak attempt to remedy whatever shitstorm you caused in their minds.

"Don't get mad, please," you whisper sheepishly, and the shy sound of your still choked voice seems to wash Johnny's explosive anger away better than the firm grip of his handler's (Price's) hands. With a look of a beaten dog, Johnny huffs loudly, cuddlng up to you and hiding his face in your lap. His heavy jaw sinks in the plush of your thighs, accomodated nicely with the softness of your body.

"'M nae mad at ye, leannan. Jus' dinnae say tha' again, a'right, bonnie? If ye need me tae prove ye-"

"No..." your hand finds it place in his damp mohawk and brushes through, while you glance at John. His eyes are shimmering with love and love only as he looks at you and Johnny, and you feel a wave of shyness - the good, giddy, warm kind - replacing the paralyzing shame. "I'm fine already. With you."

"Maybe we should 'ave a little chat 'bout it, love," John's hand meets yours on the sad mutt's head in your lap, intertwinig fingers with you through Johnny's soft hair. "When ya feel better. Jus' so we know what we're dealing with, eh?"

"Yeah. A bit later. Thank you."

All four of your men get frozen witnessing your reaction, struck with a horrifying sense of helplessness - it feels like the biggest failure among many unsuccessful missions, operations where lives were lost and enemies missed, to have you curling up and crying in misery between all the love they've been pouring onto you just mere seconds ago. As if everything they touch is bound to go up in flames, drown in blood and rot, be it on the outside or from the inside.

They're lost, and as always, they turn to the Captain, giving themselves up for him to direct, trusting that he knows better what use they can be of.

And, frankly, he does.

They're barely talking, but the commotion around you is decipherable even through the red mind fog and closed eyes - it honestly only makes you feel worse, unsafe, exposed, despite that simply being Soap, sent off to fill a bath ("Ye want it hot or a tad bit cool, bonnie?" - Silence. Your nails dig into your scalp, the soud of someone simply breathing, even more so talking to you, sending you into a new fit of rage. "Make it warm, Johnny, we'll adjust later."), and Simon, leaving for tea duty - silently, your favourite way to have it attentively observed in the first two weeks you've been together and memorized ever since.

It's Kyle whose voice, murmuring into your ear sweet, reassuring nothings as he keeps you caged in a tight embrace, your back pressed against his warm chest, forces you out of the highly irritable state. You have no choice between his short, chaste kisses on the crown of your overloaded head, and John's calloused hands massaging your calves, soft flesh dipping under the firm pressure.

"Ya jus' focus on fighting tha' storm off, a'right, darling? We'll take care of th' rest. It happens, we know it does, 's not your fault. Jus' a funny lil' thing your mind does, eh? Yeah, love, we know wha' it's like when your mind does funny things. Don't we, Kyle?"

"That we do." Maybe it's just your own depressive state rubbing off on them or distorting your perception, but Kyle's voice sounds almost solemn. You would turn to look into the smoky quartz of his eyes, but either he holds you too tight, or you have barely any strength left in your upset body - you simply can't.

Maybe it's alright. Maybe tonight they don't need you ripping your heart out to tend to their restless minds, and you can just allow them to take care of you.

Allow Kyle to carry you to the bathroom.

Allow John to stay there and help you wash yourself with a nice, scrubby loofah.

Allow Johnny to bring in his huge, baggy loungewear that doesn't hug your curves too snugly and allows you to simply forget what you were so angry about for a while.

Allow Simon to serve you perfect temperature tea in your favourite mug and keep you quiet company on the balcony, night air cooling your wet and clean now skin and hair further and blowing all thoughts out of your troubled head away.

As you share a cigarette with rich clove aftertaste, breathing ironically becomes easier. Behind your back the bedsheets are being changed, proper meal is being cooked, a good movie you won't be upset falling asleep to is being chosen.

"Simon." - "Hm." - "You sure you're okay with me being like that?" - "Standin' in the wind with your hair wet, tryin' to catch a cold?"

You grunt, not appreciating him taking the piss while you're tryig to be vulnerable, but allow him to pull the hood of Johnny's hoodie onto your head.

"No. I mean, fucked up in the head?"

You don't actually know what answer you expect. With an unreadable expression, Simon turns his head, looking through the glass door at the men crowded in the living room and waiting for you, and then stares back at you with a smirk, a permanent scowl carved into it by someone's cruel hand.

"Nah. Tha's how I like 'em."

He throws the cigarette butt away and chuckles, cupping the back of your head and pulling you inside, into the warmth of home.

"Oi, bonnie! C'mere, As saved ye a spot." There is no spot as you look at the two-story cuddle pile on the sofa and the blanket nest in front of it, unless of course... ah, yes, Johnny's patting his lap. "Ah promise Ah'll behave. Mostly."

And as his warmth envelops you through a big hug, his hands clenched humbly on your belly and behaving indeed, you feel stupidly happy.

Because you're enjoying touch again.

385 notes · View notes

mncxbe · 2 years ago

Note

Could you write about the bsd boys' (dazai, chuuya and akutagawa) reactions to their fem s/o having an intense orgasm? like, she squirms, moans loudly and throws her head back (bonus points if they kiss her neck when she does)

I got so excited when I saw your request and I loved writing it. Hope you enjoy.

4 a.m

𝑪𝒉𝒖𝒚𝒂, 𝑫𝒂𝒛𝒂𝒊, 𝑨𝒌𝒖𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒘𝒂, 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

𝑮𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: smut♡

°☆○

𝑫𝒂𝒛𝒂𝒊

this man knows your body like the back of his hand and he took his time to learn how to please you

most of the time he takes it slow, making sure you enjoy every second of it

Dazai is a tease; he always denies your orgasms, edging you until your core aches

your pleas and begs only determine him to keep up this act

he prefers to be on top so he can see your expressions; he's so mesmerized by the way your eyes roll back and the way you bite on your lower lip as he finally allows you to cum

The bedroom was filled with the sound of your whimpers.

"Dazai, please I can't take it anymore" you whined, tears starting to cloud your vision. Your boyfriend has been at it for hours now, edging you beyond belief. No matter how much you begged him he just wouldn't let you cum. As for now, he had you on your back, thighs pressed against your chest as he rammed himself into you.

He only only cooed at your words, mischief glimmering in his eyes. "Aww bella. I'm sure you can take a bit more. Would you do that for me?"

You only nodded, earning a grin from the man. "Good girl" he said lowly, flipping you over to your belly. He raised your hips until they were alligned with his cock, one of his hands pressing onto your lower back to keep your curve. When he thrusts into you again, a sharp moan escaped your lips. "There you go, bella. Here's your reward for being so good today"

You could only squirm and babble nonsense into your pillow as he moved in and out of you at a relentless pace. Soon enough, you were getting close to your release, your walls clenching around him. You half expected him to deny your orgasm again but he kept ramming you.

One of his calloused hands grabbed your neck, forcing your head off the sheets. "Gonna cum for me doll?" he uttered between grunts.

"Y-yes 'samu" you replied in a shaky voice. You bit down on your lower lip in attempt to contain your lewd sounds.

He leaned in, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear "Then go ahead". His mouth found the sweet spot right under your ear and he started sucking on your skin.

This was enough to make the knot in your stomach snap. Your legs started to shake as you let out a ragged moan, almost like a cry. Your boyfriend let go of your throat, allowing your head to rest on the pillow again but he kept whispering sweet things into your ear as he worked you through your high. "That's it dear. So tight f' me"

It didn' take long for him to finish too. Even after he pulled our you were still slightly shaking. Dazai carefully placed a hand on your thigh, which gained him a sharp whine.

"N-no more" you managed to utter while trying to regain your breath.

He chuckled, taking in the view before laying next to you again. His arms snaked around your waist pulling you closer.

𝑨𝒌𝒖𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒘𝒂

no because hear me out this man doesn't really know what he's doing

compared to Dazai, he's really unexperienced and although he does his best to learn to how to please you, he lacks the confidence

he can often gets lost in the feeling of your walls wrapped around him, which causes him to pick up the pace

he literally doesn't realize that he made you cum so much until you start shaking under him, moans rolling off your lips

my baby is so confused at first but he quickly regains his composure and keeps thrusting into you.

he definitely wants to see you squirm again

praise him, tell him he's a good boy and he'll literally never stop pleasing you

Akutagawa was on top of you, his hips slapping against yours as Rashomon kept your legs open. The black fabric snaked around your body, sqeezing you in all the right places.

As a result you were a whining mess, mouth slightly agape. You were trying to conceal your fucked out expression but Akutagawa's hand seized your wrist. "Don't you dare hide from me. I wanna see how good I make you feel" he spoke in a sharp voice, his words only making you clench around him even tighter.

"Oh fuck" he cursed, hands grabbing your hips as he pushed himself deeper into you. He picked up the pace, completely focusing on the warmth of your core. He is so pussy drunk, watching as his cock went in and out of your wet folds.

The black fabric tightened around your body - the last drop in this cocktail of pleasure. Your back arched, thighs squeezing the sides of is abdomen. It was only then that his eyes moved to your face and he quite literally froze. With your eyes rolled back, your body was jolting in pleasure. "Please don't stop now, Ryuu" you pleaded, your glossy eyes meeting his. He immediately started moving again, gaining another desperate moan from you.

Soon after he came too but that didn't mean you were done. He used Rashomon to tie your legs together, hooking them over his shoulder as his fingers kneaded the plush of your hips.

"We're not done yet pretty. I wanna see you do that again, alright?" he said as he resumed his movements. It's safe to say you were in for a long night.

𝑪𝒉𝒖𝒚𝒂

Mr fancy hat is a true gentleman who proritizes your pleasure over his own

he prefers to be on top and in control but sometimes he will let you ride him. After all, what's better than receiving some special treatment from their s/o after a hard day at work?

he's quite handsy; loves seeing twitch and squirm under his touch

Chuya couldn't keep his hands to himself. And how could he? When you were riding him so prettily, nails digging into his chest as you tried to find some support; eyes shut tight. He could tell that you were close to your release by the way your movements got sloppier.

He chuckled, cupping your cheek with one of his hands as the other one traced lines along your belly.

"So pretty for me, doll. You like it when you have your way with me? I bet you do."

He thrusted his hips, making you jolt in pleasure. You picked up the pace, rocking your hips faster. Chuya's hand moved to your clit, lazily rubbing circles. "You're doing so well baby. Don't stop now" The words of praise added to the physical pleasure were enough to make you come undone.

You threw your head back, mewling in pleasure. A wave of satisfaction and desire took over your boyfriend as he watched you ride through your high. He pulled you down on him, your bare chest pressed against his and he caressed your figure.

Your body was still sensitive, each touch making you moan lowly into his ear.

Chuya's hands eventually rested on your hips but his lips went straight to your neck, leaving butterly kisses from place to place.

"Good girl. How about I get the bath ready for us?"

You gently nodded and slid off him, arms wrapping around his torso. A smile made its way to your lips "I'd love that. But let's stay like this for a bit."

"As you wish, my love" he replied, giving into your embrace.

#bsd #bsd chuya #chuya smut #dazai smut #bsd dazai #bsd x reader #akutagawa x reader #dazai osamu #akutagawa smut #bsd smut #chuya x reader

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itsmemuffy · 2 months ago

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When I published my first post, wanted to keep the momentum going. It was my goal to post weekly and well.... it's been two weeks ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I abandoned all my little drabbles to focus on a full-length fic that is becoming waaay longer than I anticipated. Thought I'd post a little WIP Wednesday to make sure I don't go back into the ether. Can't wait to have this one finished, I've been having a lot of fun writing it.

Contents: Original Trilogy! Logan x fem reader, naive reader, obsessive Logan, suggestive content, Charles makes an appearance

Summary: You keep everything running as smooth as possible in the background while Professor Xavier keeps a very full plate of locating mutants, running the school, and leading the X-Men. A steady stream of mutants come and go through the mansion, but a certain one in particular makes it his mission to nestle his way into your life.

The past few days had been a whirlwind for Logan. He's the type of man that goes where he wants to go- and waking up in an infirmary on a small hospital cot after being round up like some sort of animal was not on his list of things to do that week, to say the least.

For all intents and purposes, his next plan of action was to get away from here as soon as he possibly could and get back to the life he lived on his own terms. His only home and form of transportation was totalled somewhere in the Alberta wilderness, sure, but he already had experience starting over from nothing.

When he first met you, a cute little thing diligently running errands to what was perhaps the one man who could have his answers, you immediately piqued Logan's interest. So sweet and so kind, and Charles put his trust in you?

He had barged in like he owned the place on you and the professor scheduling out the upcoming semester in his office. Charles appeared to have already gotten used to this type behavior from him. "This, my dear, is Logan. He will hopefully be joining us now."

Oh... so is he planning to stick around? You ponder as you bite the inside of your cheek, leaning onto Charles' desk with your hip. Logan immediately came off as brooding and dismissive, and he didn't seem like the type to settle into a place beaming with so much activity. Regardless, you extended your hand out to him as you told him your name.

It took him a second to register the gesture. He only now noticed how lost in thought he was, eyes caught below your neckline. With a clearing of his throat, Logan reached a hand back to you to shake it. The most formal of ways to greet someone, yet the feeling of your delicate fingers grasping his rough palm caused his mind to wander again. He forced himself back to reality.

"I guess I'll be seeing you around" Logan remained aloof in speech, hoping you didn't notice the way he devoured you with his gaze. He decided to promptly remove himself from the room, searching for the privacy to be alone with his thoughts.

A few interactions after your initial introduction, Logan started to feel something beyond sexual curiosity. You made his heart race, you made him nervous.

Not a single detail went unnoticed by Logan. The way your hips would sway, how you parted your hair, the lipstick you wore, the softness in your voice whenever you greeted him, your scent.

Life kept throwing change in Logan's way, morphing his way of living into something unrecognizable to him. For the last however many years (boy, is he ever bad at keeping track of time) he had filled them with isolation and taking whatever cheap pleasures he could find. Now he finds himself surrendering the space in his mind to a woman he barely knew. You brought warmth and light into a cold, dark place.

No, this wont fly, he thought to himself. The fact that he was losing control over the dynamic between you made him very uncomfortable. Logan made it his mission to learn more about you. If he could just figure you out, he could take the reins over again.

The two of you would always acknowledge eachother in a group setting. The tiny smile Logan would throw your way whenever you caught eyes made you weak. You couldn't help but to want to know more about him too. A rugged man who was a stranger not too long ago was showing you consideration? A man who nobody knows where he's been, what he's done, how old he is? It kind of racked your brain, but you tried not to let it trip you up.

Oh, but he would catch you trip up. It wasn't lost on Logan the times you entered a space with him in it, seemingly to forget what you came in there for. Maybe you were a little ditzy- your mind often racing too fast that you couldn't catch up with yourself, but it had happened too many times for it to be a coincidence. At least, that's what he told himself.

He replicated your behavior, scouting you out amongst the mansion. It wasn't hard for him to find you. Your trail had become so much bolder to his senses, overshadowing anybody else that could be in vicinity.

Logan always found what he was looking for. Excuse after excuse slipped easily from his lips. Obvious to everyone else what he was doing, you earnestly took the bait every time without fail. He marked the first time he had a conversation with you alone as a significant victory.

"Hey, didn't see you there. Have you seen Charles around? I need to talk to him." He had cornered you in the library, watching you read for a minute or two before making his presence known.

You flinched up in your chair, "Jesus Logan, don't sneak up on me like that!" The yelp that initially left your lips was definitely a sound he would remember next time he's alone.

"Sorry, doll. Didn't mean to scare ya," he chuckled.

The upset you felt towards him for breaking your flow state lasted but half a second. You couldn't be mad. After all, whatever he needed Charles for must of been important.

"No, Jean and him are off chaperoning a field trip in the city. He should be back sometime this evening."

Logan let out a little "hmph", trying his best sound to sound disappointed. Inside he was estatic he finally caught up to you again. Now with no one else around, his mind flooded with possibilities on how this could go. The odds of you immediately throwing yourself at him weren't zero, were they? If he were to take you and bend you over the table right this very second, there was a possiblility you'd let him... right? God, am I really this desperate? he thought.

After letting a moment hang in the air, he sat down next to you in the ajacet seat. "So, what are you doing here all by yourself? Got nothing better to do on a Saturday afternoon, huh?" Good idea, Logan, change the subject.

"You're one to talk," your focus was now one hundred percent on him. Thighs spread as he lazily leaned back in the chair, rolling his head ro the side. To say he wasn't beautiful like this would be a lie. You've rarely seen him this relaxed. "Aren't you here too?"

"Huh." Logan did not anticipate you to call him out like that, "I guess you've got a point."

An awkward silence sat between the two of you. You pretended to divert your attention back to your book, not letting him escape the corner of your eye. Logan lit up a cigar he fished from his pocket. He desperately needed something to do with his hands.

"This is a library, you know that right?" You chide him after an annoyed sigh.

"Oh, is it now? I thought all these books were just for decoration." His lips sucked in another drag.

"Very expensive books, Logan. There's plenty of perfecly fine places to smoke around here if you just look."

He got up from his seat, "Then why don't you show me around, darlin'? Open my eyes a little." You couldn't quite tell if the pet name was to belittle you or to be affectionate. A hand reached out to bring you to stand. "I'll let you lead the way."

#Wolverine x reader #Logan Howlett x Reader #Logan Howlett fluff #I have a blast writing for him tbh #wanna try other X-Men down the line too

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thisapplepielife · 1 year ago

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Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles December challenge.

Crumb Together

Prompt Day 27: Coffee Shop AU | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Language | Tags: Modern AU, Meet-Cute, Platonic Stobin, Coffee Shop/Bakery AU, Fluff, Steve POV

Steve is carefully filling the bakery case. He's been here since three a.m., and it's still a half-hour until opening, but at least he's on time and not behind schedule for once.

"Hey dingus, do we need more muffins?" Robin hollers, banging through the double-doors from the back to the front.

"No, I have enough, thanks so much," he snaps. He's snippy this morning, pretty mad she ever talked him into this whole coffee shop scheme. Sure, they're retail pros, but small business owners? He should have said no fucking way. But she was excited, and he wanted her to be happy. That’s always his downfall.

He's definitely re-thinking that now that they’ve completely lost their social lives by keeping these insane working and sleeping schedules. They only see each other, which isn't the worst thing in the world, other than the fact that he doesn't know the last time he's touched boobies. Or dick. He's not picky.

He needs to get laid, and he can’t do that stuck inside this coffee shop slash bakery hell with his best friend.

He's about to turn and sass her, when someone taps on the front door and he jumps, throwing a chocolate muffin up into the air, fumbling it around, before finally regaining control.

He didn't drop it, but it looks a little worse for wear. He can't sell it like this.

Well, fuck.

If he was a hired hand, he'd ignore the annoying tapper until the official opening time. Which is twenty-nine minutes from now. But as the owner, he puts down his tray and walks towards the door. They could use the paying customer, even if they’ve shown up way too early, like a rude asshole.

He looks, but he can't see anyone out there in the dark. Maybe he should ignore it.

He doesn't, instead he unlocks the door, and there's a guy standing there.

"Hey, nice catch," the guy says, smiling.

Steve forces a smile in return, "How can I help you?"

"I know you're not open yet, but I saw you in there juggling the muffins, and I'm on my way out of town and really need a cup of coffee. My coffee maker decided this was the morning to croak," he says, slashing his whole hand across his neck, making a throat-slitting motion.

He's rambling, like Robin.

Steve finds it a little cuter on him, than he does when Robin does it at this ungodly hour.

Steve sighs, and opens the door wider to let him inside, "You just want black coffee?"

"Please," the guy says.

"I'll have to brew it. It'll just take a minute."

"Thank you, you're a lifesaver," he says, and Steve can see that he's looking at Steve's chest, looking for a name tag. But Steve's not wearing one. Because as the owner, he finally doesn't have to.

Robin is booting up the point-of-sale system, "Black coffee?" she repeats.

The guy nods.

"For?"

"Eddie," the guy answers.

"Good thing you asked him, I'd never know who to hand it to," Steve snarks at Robin, starting the coffee machine.

Eddie laughs.

Robin doesn't.

When it's done, Steve places the cup on the counter, and Robin immediately picks it up and writes Eddie's name on it.

Which, that's stupid. They all know it's Eddie's coffee. Then, Robin sacks up the slightly banged up muffin and hands it to Eddie.

"You scared him and caused him to squish it. So, it's yours. On the house!" she says, far too chipper for this time of morning.

"Thanks, I'll try to drop by and scare him more often," Eddie says, reading his name on his cup, grinning. Then Eddie slides a ten dollar bill across the counter, waving off his change.

As soon as the bell on the door jangles, signaling Eddie's departure, Robin turns and slaps Steve on the arm.

"What the hell? That cute boy wanted to flirt, and you totally dropped the ball, dingus!"

Steve scrunches up his forehead, "Huh?"

Robin just shakes her head, annoyed, and heads back towards the kitchen.

Is Steve so rusty that he missed flirting? Goddamnit.

Steve has just turned the front door lock, and flipped the sign to closed, when he hears his cell phone ringing somewhere in the distance. He follows the sound, and when he picks it up, it's a number he doesn't recognize. Great. More telemarketer bullshit.

He goes to swipe the decline button, when Robin shouts, "You better get that!"

He looks back at his phone and cautiously accepts the call, not knowing what the hell she's done now.

"Hello?"

"Is this Steve? From the coffee shop?"

"Yeah, this is Steve," Steve says, suspicious. He has no idea who he's talking to.

"Good, good. This is Eddie. From this morning. The coffee jerk that made you open early."

"Oh, uh, okay. Um…"

"How did I get this number?" Eddie asks, laughing.

"Yeah, that was what I was thinking," Steve admits.

"Well, somehow it ended up written on my coffee cup this morning, with your name and a time to call."

Steve shakes his head, Robin is such an asshole, but Steve smiles.

"Well, I'm not sure how that happened," Steve says, teasing back. Flirting.

"Big mystery," Eddie teases, "but since I've got you on the phone, would you like to grab dinner or drinks. Coffee?"

"No coffee," Steve laughs, "but yes. To the other two, for sure. But be forewarned, I eat really early. Like an old person. Early bird specials are my jam. And I go to bed by nine. Eight-thirty if I can get away with it. I gotta be here by three to get ready to open this place."

He's learned to get that info out of the way, early.

"Well, that sounds perfect. I get up at four to get to my jobsite. I'm in construction," Eddie says.

Steve smiles, it's been a while since anyone has understood his schedule.

"So, dinner? Four-thirty or five?" Eddie asks, and Steve laughs.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddieholidaydrabbles and follow along with the fun! ☕

If you want to see more of my entries into this month-long challenge, you can check them out in my Steddie Holiday Drabbles tag, right here!

#steddieholidaydrabbles #coffee shop au #bakery au #modern au #meet cute #steddie #steddie ficlet #eddie munson #steve harrington #robin buckley #platonic stobin #stranger things #thisapplepielife: short fic #thisapplepielife: steddieholidaydrabbles

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dracobrooklyn · 1 year ago

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Durge x Reader Part 2

When you really like the design of the Cannon DragonBorn and his voice is like butter making you melt. I was sad you can't romance him and your the playable character instead. So Here I am going to write Headcannons of what if he was a romanceable NPC that was in your party.These are my thoughts taking bits and pieces from the Cannon and putting my thoughts and ideas into Durge.

|| MDNI || 18+ this will contain Themes of Language, Violence, and of course Sexual Content. DO NOT READ!!

Cannon!Durge x Tav!Fem!Reader

This will be in a Fem!Reader POV!!

Word count: 1,237

Part 2: Getting Closer.

TW: Death, the Mention of killing, fantasizing murder, nudity, Smut, and Oral sex.

Durge being in a party after slaying the Goblins and saving the Teifling folk and saving them from the Druids grove (He honestly wish he would have burn their tree down, cause fuck those guys). Everyone seem to be having a good time... well he really didn't have a good time. Shall we list those reasons? Well for one thing, he tried so hard to distract himself trying to block out those images of his nightmare. But the wine wasn't doing anything for him, guess Durge would have to drink at least 6 barrels of wine... but that wasn't happening, the other thing he wasn't a huge fan of being with so many people. People cheering him as a hero! It was nice for at least 2 seconds... but then it got more annoying that each drunk teifling came up to him "You are a hero mate, cheers!". He was trying to find you in all this madness. Some sort of familiarity and safety. But finding you, he saw you talking to Astarion. He was about to step up a little, but he noticed that he was flirting with you, and you seem to like it a lot. Kinda broke his little dark heart.

Deep down Durge wanted to grab Astarion. He wanted to choke him, he wanted to rip him apart, just to see his head fall of his shoulders, just to see him dead onto the ground and rip his intestines out feasting onto him... Durge felt sick all of a sudden, what was that? Why was he thinking that way? He had to get away, he needed air. He needed distraction. He then bumped into a teifling. Pretty little thing, Durge found out her name was Alfira, she talked with him, telling him how brave he was against the Goblins. Asking on what Lyrics she should use for her song... oh she was a bard. fantastic. Durge also noticed you were staring... he looked back at Alfira and even tried at his hand on flirting, just to maybe... maybe make you a little jealous? Even offered to have a one night stand with Alfira. Of course she took it. Leading her away from prying eyes into the forest.

Durge didn't take his time with stripping off his clothes, getting on top of Alfira kissing her, marking her with hickey's and bite marks from his teeth. Gods this was a perfect distraction. A good ol fuck to pass the night. Durge has a pretty good size for his cock and yes, Durge has a knot. He is pretty good in sex, so Alfira did sound like she was enjoying it. How he trailed his nips, and licking towards her breast, to her navel and finally to her core. Tasting her nectar that was glistening on her folds. She did taste divine... but he couldn't help but replace Alfira's face with yours. What would you sound like if he went down on you... what would you taste like? How soft and warm you would be in his claws, how he would made you came into his mouth, into his jaws to taste your sweet release. "jacida nhee kiabil". It was a blur though... he was so lost in the pleasure he became so feral... and once out of his haze he smelled... blood. He shook his head and looked down seeing was the once alive Alfira... dead, with her intestines ripped out all over the place. Durge standing back and even looked down at his hands... oh gods it's on him... did he do that? Panic coursed through his body. What has he done?!! He has to hide the body quick! He did so throwing her down the river watching it float away feeling sick... dirty... fucked up. He wash's himself in the river to get rid of the blood on his face and hands. God he felt sick, he needed to get back to camp, he needed sleep.

Durge of course not being able to sleep, he of course goes to walk out into the night, away from the party. The Nightmares were not helping either. He didn't want to wake you either. He was too busy trying to piece together the images from his images. He did write into the Journal you gave him but it still wasn't making any sense. Until he see's a random stranger appear-- oh god it's ugly! Was it a Goblin? The creature claimed to be your servant. A servant? Wait... was he a prince? Oh no the joke was biting him in the ass now. The creature called himself Sceleritas, a one hell of a butler he puts it. He must know you. He kept calling you by your name Durge. It was nice... he guessed? He had so many questions, he asked a few. Learning where he came from, and was made to guide him and help... murder people? Wait kill people? "That's how I found you, I could smell the Bards dead stench from across the sea!". Oh gods Durge felt sick. He wanted nothing to do with him. Sceleritas was a little sad to see his faithful master dismiss him so soon. But he wanted away... he needed you. You felt someone shaking you awake, looking up from your sleep gaze, you could see Durge's face that was filled with dredge and fear. You asked him what was wrong. He asked if you both could be in his tent to talk... just to help him fall asleep. You agreed of course. Anything for your friend Durge. You guys did talk almost all night, he seemed to calm down. That was good. "So are you and Alfira together?" you asked Durge "What? No we uh... we just uh... had a one night stand is all." Durge replied feeling nervous all of a sudden. "Oh... I was hoping to spend more time in the party but you were gone for me to find you." you said to him. "...I thought you wanted to be with Astarion?" Durge asked "didn't he... offer to give you a good time?" "Oh he did, but I declined him." you said to him "He's not my type." "Oh." Durge was relieved. Thought you didn't need to know that... no. Besides you wouldn't want to be with a... memory loss murderer. No he can't let you find out about what he did no... it would be awful. He lose you in an instant. "Did you want to try and get some sleep?' You asked Durge tilting your head to the side. Durge definitely did blush, the way you looked at him made him feel butterflies in his stomach. Boiling within his very core. He was smitten with you. You rejected the pale elf and you wanted to be with Durge instead. Pride was welling inside him. Maybe he did have a chance... maybe... praying to the gods. "Thank you for the talk." He says to you "I feel more... refreshed, please get some sleep itov." "itov?" you asked him "Was that draconic?" Oh shit "uh yes, it means friend." he lied of course... and you fell for it thank goodness. You left Durge to rest telling him goodnight as you walk back to your bed roll. And Durge watching you leave as he says softly "mel'thurkear." as he curls up to sleep... to try and hope no more nightmares would plague his mind tonight.

Draconic Translation: jacida nhee kiabil- His Sweet Companion. itov-Love mel'thurkear- Goodnight.

#baldursgate dark urge #dark urge x reader #Durge #Durge x Reader #BG3 #bg3 bhaalspawn #Bhaalspawn #Bhaal #baldurs gate astarion #Baldurs gate 3 Alfira #Dragonborn #Sceleritas Fel

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m-musings · 6 months ago

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Not a Joke: Buggy the Clown X Fem! Reader

Word Count: 1k

Summary: Buggy is feeling insecure & his partner helps him feel better.

Warnings/Other Notes: nothing, its m's typical cheesy fluff, what else can i say?

Most of the time, the captain of the Big Top Pirates gave off a very confident, entertaining and creative persona.

Always bragging or boasting in some way, he knew that he was a powerful and determined man and was intent on proving that to the rest of the world.

But every so often, there would be nights where that little voice in his head would say otherwise, telling him he isn't worth the trouble or that he should just give up while he's ahead.

After all, he may be strong and tough, but there's other's on the seas and beyond who are stronger and tougher, so tonight is one of those rough ones.

"Bugs, what's wrong?" Mutters a voice from the other side of the room.

Buggy- who had been lost in thought at his writing desk in his sleeping quarters- snaps out of his trance and looks over to his bed to see his lover peering worriedly at him from under a blanket.

With a brief shake of his head, a dejected huff escaped from his red-stained mouth. Turning in his chair to face her, he tried to will an assuring smile to his face, but it appeared to be more of a grimace than anything.

"It's nothin', Sweets... just been a long day. Go back to bed, I'll join after a while."

Letting out a quiet sigh, (Y/n) lifts the covers off her body before getting up and stepping over to the pirate to wrap her arms around his shoulders.

"C'mon, Buggy, I know you! I can tell when something's up with you, so spill."

"(Y/n), I'm fine, I promise. Please, just go relax, I'm almost done here."

"Buggy..."

(Y/n) clicks her tounge at the clown before she crouches slightly to be at eye level with him.

Furrowing his brow in response, he glances over at her as she shrugs her shoulders in inquisition. Releasing a forlorn sigh of his own, Buggy nervously skims a hand over his chin, not used to sharing his innermost thoughts and feelings.

"Can't hide anything from you, huh (N/n)?" Buggy finally relinquishes with a half-hearted chuckle.

His other hand delicately held hers as he guided his darling partner to sit in his lap. As she rests, he begins softly kissing her palm when she places it on his cheek.

"No, you really can't. Now, tell me what's got you so gloomy today." Presses (Y/n) as she gently runs her hands through his blue tresses.

The pirate runs his tounge over his painted lips as he searches for the right words. Opening and closing his mouth in indecision, he shuts his eyes for a moment as he manages to find what he wants to say.

"I just feel so... useless lately. Like, no matter what I do, it seems like someone is always beating me down or throwing me around. It's getting on my fucking nerves. And I hate feeling like that..."

"Oh, Bug..."

"But it's not just that either! I feel like everyone around me only sees me as some kind of joke. And not in the usual way, y'know?" Grumbles the clown as he leans his head against (Y/n)'s shoulder.

"It's gotten to the point where I cant help but feel like no one cares. And it hurts. A lot."

A short hum emits from the woman's lips, causing Buggy to peek one saddened eye up at her face.

"Well, I can tell you for a fact that that's not true."

Buggy's eyebrow raises in intrigue as he cautiously lifts his head to meet (Y/n)'s gaze.

"Yeah? what makes you say that?"

"I mean, just look around the ship. The crew absolutely adores you, you're their flashy Captain Buggy, after all! And you have me! I love you more than anything in the world." States (Y/n) as she happily scrunches up her nose.

"And also, you are not a joke at all. You are a brave, strapping and, not to mention, handsome pirate captain. You're the total package!"

Buggy pauses for a moment, grabbing her hand again and placing it against his chest, which was thrumming softly to the beat of his heart.

"You really mean it?" He whispers lowly as he grips her hand a little tighter than before, making sure not to hurt her.

"Of course I do! Have you ever known me to lie about something like that?"

Buggy thinks for a moment until he eventually shakes his head in denial.

"No, I guess not. In fact, You're one of the the most honest people I know..." Scoffs Buggy, as if the answer was obvious.

"So then you gotta believe me when I say you're loved, Buggy. So, so much. And I'll remind you every day if I have to." (Y/n) coos before pulling him towards herself for a warm hug.

At the feel of her embrace, the tension that Buggy didn't realize he had been carrying in his muscles began to wash away. A pleased rumble emits from Buggy's throat as he puts his head against hers.

"Thanks, baby. I really needed to hear that." Smiles Buggy as the frustration in his eyes fades.

"Anytime, love. I'm sorry you've been feeling so bad about this stuff... is there anything else I can do to help you feel better?"

As Buggy shakes his head no, he places a kiss on (Y/n)'s nose. As she touches the spot where his lips touched her, he gives her a tiny grin.

"You just bein' in my arms and reassuring me is helping a lot already, doll. Now, come on, let's get some shut eye, this shit can wait 'til later."

Buggy then lifts her up and takes her back to their plush bed, making her giggle as they both plop down on the mattress. After using his chop-chop powers to turn off the light illuminating the room, he tugs the blanket over the two of them before holding her against his chest.

"Get some sleep, (Y/n), 'cause we're spending alllll day together tomorrow, just us." Buggy orders as he gives a light kiss to the top of her head.

"Aye, aye, Cap'n ." Teases (Y/n), dotting a line of kisses along Buggy's jawline before she slowly lets her eyes fall shut.

And as the stars shine through the small porthole window on the other side of the room, hushed "I love you's" are exchanged as the couple drifts to sleep in each others arms.

#buggy x reader #buggy the clown x reader #buggy the clown #one piece #one piece live action #one piece imagine #fanfic

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madlittlecriminal · 1 year ago

Note

Hey, would you like to write for ps5/insomniac Peters since he's your new crush 🤭

If so I'd have an idea: Peter comes home all beat up (nothing too crazy tho, some bruised ribs, lil cut on the brow etc) reader gets worried and starts to patch him up and then Peter notices that she has some sexy lingerie on and questions it, so she tells him that she wanted to surprise him, then Peter is just taken by lust and starts to kiss her neck, feel her up, you try to protest a bit saying you need to finish patching him, but he's just like "I'll manage, I need you now."

Make him soft and gentle (he is already) but also a bit rough? Lol thaaannnkk🥵😍

Medic in Lace ↭ Peter Parker × Female!Reader

my god, i finished the game two days ago & he really is the softest boi. i love him so much & i want him

Warnings: mention of blood, minor injuries, smut, grinding, unprotected p in v, riding, praise, mention of cockwarming because i thought about it & i can't stop thinking about it...you'll see what i mean, mention of face riding, maybe a little bit of breeding kink but not really (?)

i got carried away and made this a little longer than intended. i apologize.

"Pete, are you okay?" He gave you a small smile and nodded. "I'm fine, princess. Just a few cuts is all and maybe bruises." You glared at him before letting him sit down on the couch and getting the first aid kit. "Uh-huh." You grab the rubbing alcohol before pouring some on a cotton ball and cleaning the blood off of his brow. "I'm serious." He chuckles and you glare at him. "Yeah okay." He helps you take off the suit and you sigh when you saw a forming bruise on his ribs. "God, Peter." You shake your head as you put a bit of ointment on the forming bruise.

"Wait a minute," Peter sat up and smirked a bit as he got a look at what you were wearing. You raise a brow. "What?" He let a hand trail up your thigh as he looked up at you. "What's this?" You snicker. "It was a surprise for you." He bit his lip with a nod. "I'm definitely surprised, princess." You felt your cheeks grow warm at his words. "Really?" Peter pulled you closer to him. "Hell yes." You chuckle. "Let me finish patching you up, okay?" As you tried cleaning the cut on his nose, he moved away from your hand by going to your neck and began kissing your neck.

You gasped softly. "Pete, let me finish!" He shook his head as his hands travel underneath the red babydoll. "Peter Parker!" He chuckles. "I'll manage, I promise. I just need you." You pulled him away before looking down, biting your lip when you saw his bulging outline from boxer briefs. "I see." You say softly and he nods. "Please, baby?" He asked in almost a whisper. You leaned down and placed a peck on his lips. "Fine. Just one round, okay?" He chuckles. "We'll see." You roll your eyes playfully before kissing him again, but this time more sensually and slowly.

Peter kissed you back without hesitation, bringing you closer to him as his hands still remained on your back underneath the babydoll. His fingers danced along your back as he kissed you, absolutely lost in your lips before you sat down on his lap, slowly grinding your hips against his. He moaned as he felt your wetness from your panties. "Already dripping wet, gorgeous." He commented and rested his hands on your thighs. "Only you do this to me, baby." You whispered before moaning softly. "I love you, you know that?" He whispered and you nodded. "I love you too."

He pulled his cock out from his boxer briefs before moving your panties to the side and teasing your cunt by lifting you up with one arm. "Oh god, Peter!" He bites his lip while looking at you with hooded eyes. "I'm here princess. Don't worry." He enters you slowly, causing you both to moan in unison. You rest your forehead against his before grinding your hips, causing you to gasp and throw your head back. "Oh fuck," Peter watches as you get yourself off on his cock. "You have no idea how pretty you look, do you?" He asks before reaching over and kissing your neck. You shook your head, and he hummed softly in pleasure. "You look like a goddess. Like a true princess sitting on a throne." His whispers go straight to your cunt, making you clench around him. "Y-your cock is my throne?" You stutter out, causing Peter to chuckle. "Of course. My face is also your throne, but we'll talk about that another time."

Peter grips your hips while looking at you through hooded eyes. "Want me to help you?" You nodded as he pulls you up his cock and then back down. His grip was enough to drive you crazy from how gentle it was, but it wasn't enough to bruise you; he's a gentle lover. He moaned your name into your ear, causing you to moan in response, your fingers trailing towards your clit to play with it as Peter thrusts into you. "You always feel so good." He groaned, guiding his hands under the babydoll and bringing you closer to him, making your chest touch his as he still thrusted into you. "And you'll always be my good girl." You clenched around him before letting out a cry of pleasure as you cum around him. Shortly after, he joins you, filling you up with his cum.

You take deep breaths with Peter before he lifts your chin up and kissing your lips softly. "You should stay here." He says softly after breaking the kiss. "I am here, Pete. We literally live together." He shook his head. "You know what I mean, princess." You felt your cheeks warm up at his words. "But I have to finish patching you up." He shrugged with a smirk. "You can do it on here, can't you?" Your eyes widened. "What?" He chuckled softly. "You can patch me up on here, can you?" You blink. "Are you serious?"

"Up to you, princess."

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #insomniac games #insomniac spider man #insomniac peter parker #spiderman x reader #spiderman x y/n #spiderman x you #asks #ask #marvel #x reader #smut #peter parker smut

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starsofarda · 3 months ago

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Ok, so. I am gonna try something here, like a modern AU of sort starting off from this post: https://starsofarda.tumblr.com/post/762738119355285504/ok-i-will-try-but-once-i-am-more-awake

I would like to thank @dfwbwfbbwfbwf for giving me rope and I would like to please ask the entirety of te fandom to not be harsh, because last time I even tried writing a fic of some sort I was literally torn into pieces - I was 16 at the time and ROTK had just come out in cinemas, still.

So, the idea is palantiri being specifically built phones by Feanor for his kids. It's gonna be wild. And I will try my best, but ultimately I am gonna have fun and let my brain go.

The stakes are significantly lower here, glory of AUs.

I am gonna do like a bullet point list.

Be Feanor

Complain to your wife Nerdanel that kids are growing up and start being independent, cue Feanor deeply missing the time his kids were little, then Nerdanel suggesting that maybe they should get new phones and maybe get on a cruise together as a family - heck, let's include also Celebrimbor, bc he's like a toddler at best by then and we might as well.

There's gonna be shenanigans anyway, so why not let the toddler form some core memories.

We are talking about FEANOR and HIS SONS, notoriously the least chill people on Arda.

Nerdanel will regret this decision on day 2 of the cruise.

It is briefly suggested that Finarfin, Fingolfin and the rest of Feanor's half step family included sons and daughters be invited, but this ends up with SOMEONE throwing hands, someone being Fingolfin and Feanor mainly.

Feanor: "I DON'T WANT YOU ON MY CRUISE!"

Fingolfin: "I DIDN'T WANT TO COME TO YOUR STUPID CRUISE ANYWAY!"

Finarfin: "GUYS CAN'T WE HAVE A CHILL ONE FOR ONCE? AT LEAST FOR THE KIDS' SAKE?"

It is decided at the end that only Feanor, Nerdanel and their 7 sons + Celebrimbor attend (yes, also his mother comes, Nerdanel needs someone chill as moral support).

This will be inserted in the already long list of family feuds to bring up during family meetings and celebrations.

(gods I am feeling for the entire family tree due to personal experiences with my own family)

ANYWAY.

Cruise starts on a really sunny and happy day.

At least this is Feanor's point of view.

Celegorm's dog Huan has been lost and found a couple of times, Caranthir has already tried committing fraud three times, Maedhros has taken the role of Third Parent and also his Eldest Daughter syndrome is showing, Maglor has in the meantime published another one of his songs on youtube and bandcamp basically dissing everyone - he will later do a non-apology apology video about it - Amrod and Amras still in their teens are trying to Cause Problems On Purpose.

Celebrimbor is being the Model Child and quietly toying with like a fidget spinner

He WILL cause shenanigans when Elder kid Annatar tries to make him get ALL of the plasticky child rings from a vending machine on the ship

I mean these rings:

The ploy will be exacting revenge on the Feanorians for supposedly sending big brother Morgoth to jail for petty theft

The theft being three decorative sparkly glass baubles called Silmarils Feanor made years prior and by the time the theft happens the baubles are now nowhere near any Feanorian, but Feanor still feels a lot about them

ANYWAY.

Each of Feanor's kids is equipped with a Specially Built By Feanor Smartphone

Reaction ranging from "OMG DAD did YOU ACTUALLY DO THIS" to "couldn't you just buy us new phones" to "ok what am I supposed to do with this brick"

Nerdanel laughs. "Told you so, darling."

Feanor decides to take all of it as a good thing and leaves the phones with his kids.

"They are called palantiri, they have been built so no one can destroy them - I can see you try already, Amrod, Amras, so stop before you actually get hurt."

"Dad, did you call them palantiri because that's the sound they make when you throw them at the person you are calling. You know. To see them from afar."

the slap everyone hears is actually Maedhros facepalming and trying to repeat to himself the mantra that "it's gonna be fine" and "please valar give me patience because if you give me strength I am committing war crimes."

Celegorm tests the endurance of the palantir smartphone by playing fetch with Huan using the phone as a ball.

The cruise can finally start.

It's gonna be long. I am gonna have to think of the rest now.

Thoughts? Comments? Prayers?

#tolkien #the silmarillion #feanor #feanorians #sons of feanor #fanfiction #sort of anyway #crack #comedy #pls do not kill me

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southerntigress · 4 months ago

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Hello 👋 I was wondering if could write a story about the reader and her best friend try out to be the new nasty habits they both get the part Nikki is hot for both of them

The other band members tell Nikki don't mix business with pleasure

But he doesn't listen to them

One night before a concert on the current tour Nikki snakes both of girls in his dressing room they give him a bj together and he fucks them

Trying not to get caught or heard by the other guys he puts bandanas over their mouth so they don't moan out loud

Maybe add a breeding kink

I'm sorry all that just popped in my head

And I suck writing at fanfiction

Mixing business with pleasure

Hey sorry it took so long but here u go and also I don't do breeding kinks sorry but I hope u like it anyways

Me and my best friend Lauren had the day off we was lazing around the house waiting to go to an audition to be Motley Crue's nasty habits. We had been dancers all of lives that's actually how we met and became friends she was in my dance class when I was like 5 and she was 6.

Now we are 25 and 26 it's crazy how time flies when u are having fun. She's my roomie, my bestie and most of all my sister I love her to pieces.

I was lost in thoughts when she suddenly bursts through my door

"Get up and get dressed or we are going to be late" she says excitedly

I roll my eyes "we have 4 hours before we have to be there and it's only a 30 min drive from here chill out we got plenty of time" I say with a giggle

She raises her eye brow at me " Carrie Ann do you not know who you are talking to"

I nod "yes I do we have plenty of time"

"Bitch it'll take 3 hours to prepare and get dressed, get up" she said pulling my arm

I laugh and pull my arm away " that's cause u are super high maintenance. It'll take me 1 hour to get ready" I say

She groans " ugh I can't stand your ass" she says throwing a pillow at me

I catch it and laugh "love you too" I say as she walks out of the room

Fast forward 4 hours we finally get there and Lauren is dragging me through the sea of people. We finally arrive at the room the auditions are being held at it's empty which is weird I thought it would be packed

I looked at Lauren " it's kinda weird being the only ones here you think we are at the right place?"

She shrugs

A lady walks up to us "may I help you ladies"

"We are here to audition for motely crue" I say

She looks us up and down "ah yes right this way"

She leads us down another hall way and we enter the room " you girls are the last ones so good luck, go on the guys are waiting" she says and walks out

We go further in and there they are Nikki, Vince, Tommy in all of their glory looking all fine and hot.

Nikki is the first to noticed us and smiles " wow look at you ladies yall are the hottest chicks we've seen all day" he smirks

"Keep it in your pants Sixx" Vince says

Nikki flips him off

Lauren and I just giggle

"Alright ladies we're going to go through one song and this will definitely show us if you got what it takes so show us what you got" Tommy says

We get in position as 10 seconds to love starts to play I start to move my hips very seductively and bite my lip as I walk a little closer to the table and bend over shaking my ass Nikki slaps my ass hard.

Lauren crawls across the floor to me comes up on her knees as I get down on mine

Our hands are roaming each other bodies as we grind on each other and right before the song ends we kiss.

We get back up and stand infront of them waiting on their reaction

"Holy shit" says Vince

"Fuck dude" Tommy says

Nikki is staring intently at us with a devilish smirk "that was fucking hot and hands down the best audition we've seen" he says

"Give us a minute" Vince says and we go into the hall

A few minutes later Nikki and Tommy comes out

"Congrats you both are the new nasty habits" Tommy says hugging us

Nikki walks up to us and hugs us "I can't wait to be on tour with you" he says looking at both of us

The tour has started and it's been going amazing the guys and even the fans have made us feel like part of the family. Nikki has been extra handsy and flirting lately despite the others telling not to mix business with pleasure he invited us to his dressing room tonight before the show.

As soon as we walked in he locked the door and slammed his lips on mine we heavily made out as his pressed his body against mine.

He pulled away and brought Lauren in and pressed her against the door next me as he attacked her lips as well.

He pulled back from her and looked from me to her to me again and said "Fuck I need both of you right now but we got to be quiet so the other don't hear ok"

We nod

he starts to undress us then himself he smirks at our reaction to him naked he may be older but fuck me does he still look hot as hell

He looks at me "like what you see sweetheart" he smirks

"Fuck yeah I do" I say

"Good cause you both are going to give me a blow job and then I'm going to fuck both of these pretty little pussies" he says

I drop to my knees after he said waisting no time in taking him in my mouth I move my head up and down his length he grabs my hair and holds me in place as he starts to thrust his hips forward I continue to suck him off for a few more minutes til he pulls me off of him and tells Lauren it's her turn she takes him in her mouth and deep throats him he groans and reaches his other hand down and starts to finger me I throw my head back and moan.

He suddenly pushes us off of him and pulls out 2 bandanas "time to fuck those pretty pussies but I gotta keep you from moaning loud so we don't get caught" he says as he ties them around both of our mouths

He fucks both of us til we can't move or make any more nosies we cum and so does he. We lay on the couch catching our breaths.

Maybe mixing business with pleasure isn't so bad after all

#nikki sixx smut #motely crue #nikki sixx #nikki sixx fanfiction #nikki sixx oneshot #nikki sixx x reader #nikki sixx x you

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justsigma-bsd · 7 months ago

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Everything Seems Small (From High Up)

Basically what happened after Sigma left the note and before Chuuya showed up.

Also me trying my hand at a different writing style-

TW for survivors guilt (I think), implied/mentioned starvation (it's small but there), a lot of injuries being mentioned and their causes.

@fukuzawa-armeddaddyagency may I perhaps interest you in seeing the aftermath of "lost one son to save another"? (ngl it would've probably happened anyway)

He doesn't remember how he managed to get there. The entire way is a blur. He doesn't remember how he managed to climb down, just that he somehow managed to slide down the gutter without falling.

In hindsight, he's more surprised he managed to hold on. His hand and arm ached from the effort of carrying his own weight, which the whole incident had reduced by quite a bit, but he barely cared. He just prayed that neither stab nor bite opened, and went on his way.

Sure, both are wrapped tightly in bandages, along with pretty much most of his limbs, leaving pretty much all of the bites and stabs and cuts he'd endured hidden from prying eyes, but it'd be a pain to rewrap them all again... and he doesn't want to bother Chuuya with this.

It's his own fault anyway, he dug his own grave, and now he may as well lie in it.

His legs ached all the way, but he barely paid it any mind. He just walked and walked and walked, until he barely even knew where he turned left and where he turned right. He just had his destination in mind.

And his legs still ache, an hour later, when he's finally sitting where he'd wanted to go.

He stares down, and for a moment he remembers falling from Sky Casino. Remembers the terror of thinking he'd die. Remembers the air whipping past his face, howling in his ears as if he'd been caught in a hurricane.

His legs, aching and stinging from bites that hopefully haven't started bleeding again, dangle down over the edge. He fidgets with his hands, plays around with the bandages wrapped around one of them. The bite underneath hurts as well.

Everything hurts, if he's honest with himself.

His legs hurt, courtesy of the dogs who'd dug their fangs into his flesh.

His hand hurts, from when another dog bit it and dragged him back into his room- back to Mori.

His face and arm and leg hurt from the cuts and stabs Other Kris had left on him.

His knee hurts, and he can't remember that one clearly, but he thinks a bullet grazed it.

His back hurts, from when he'd fallen down the stairs.

His throat hurts, and he wishes desperately for the bruises to fade so he can stop wearing turtlenecks.

He lets out a sigh and watches the city. From so high up, everything looks so... small. Insignificant. He knows his friends are down there. His family. His love... yet part of him think that maybe, just maybe, they'd be better off if he stayed here.

He'd left a note. Granted, a very vague note, but he did... god, who was he kidding? Everyone's a mess right now. Everyone's in various stages of grief and dealing with it better or worse. Everyone's mourning, and what is he doing? Running from his problems.

He lets out a breath, tears gathering in his eyes.

It's his fault they're mourning. What was it that Fukuzawa had said? Ah, right. He'd sent Dazai to get him out. He'd weighed his options and lost one son to save another.

He feels like screaming. Like crying. Throwing something, breaking something, tearing something apart and crying over that as well.

It's his fault, start to finish.

He'd started all of this with petty revenge that had been entirely pointless, and to what has it led? To Dazai dying.

Fukuzawa should've made the right call. He should've left him to rot instead of sending help. He wasn't worth another's life. Hell, he isn't even an actual person- just some writing on a page.

Karma was right. He's useless. He's useless and incompetent and he still doesn't know the reason- but he can see why he'd hate him. He wonders, silently, how many people hate him and are just too polite to say it to his face.

It should've been him who died. Would've been better for everyone... or no, scratch that. He really just should've stayed in the desert. Less pain and suffering for everyone involved. He should've stayed away after Meursault, at the very least.

... well, too late to prevent that mistake from happening.

So he sits, high up above the city, and watches. Watches while everything looks so small and distant insignificant, and he silently wonders why he ever thought he could be a part of that without ruining it.

#ada sigma #bsd rp blog #sigma bsd #ooc post #bsd rp #bungou stray dogs #fanfic #short story #angst #survivor guilt #this probably makes barely any sense if you didn't watch the whole Mori-situation go down #and i love that i might confuse some people with this

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snootlestheangel · 1 year ago

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Just A Dude!Ghost Monster AU

Side note before this post gets rolling, I love that my post with the highest notes starts with "I don't know who else" and I think that's very reflective of what Tumblr is like XD

Anyways

We're doing it! We are writing a Monster AU featuring Ghost as the only human despite what everyone else thinks! As far as I am concerned, mostly gonna post it here on Tumblr, since I don't really have much right now for it, mostly just little blurbs but if needed for readability, I'll put it on AO3 (under my profile FeelzMaster)

I'm gonna go ahead and give y'all the rundown of what species are featured, kinda what this world's like, the stuffs, ya know? TW: talks of death (just how they can die, relax)

Soap

To be 100% honest, I really wanted to do the whole werewolf!Soap thing cause it's just so perfect for him, but I thought back to a post I made about him being lightning and thought HUH WHAT IF?

So, partially inspired by @tactax-art and their depiction of Soap dealing with fire 'n shit, I have made Soap a unique type of "nymph". Technically, nymph isn't the right word, but neither is elemental, and the true name of these things is so old it's real translation has kinda lost meaning so they stick to describing themselves as "nymphs" or "elementals".

He is a Lightning Nymph, which is rare but that's apparently what happens when you cross an "atmospheric" air nymph (his mum) and a less traditional water nymph (his dad). He's often seeing consuming/messing with things that have electrical charge in order to keep up his own energy (Gaz once had to watch him literally lick an exposed outlet and maintain a straight face). Every time it storms, he's outside somewhere as high as he can get so he can soak up the natural static energy that comes with storms. He can and will shock people for the fun of it.

As for abilities, he's obviously highly conductive, can manipulate electrical energy but it's pretty exhausting so it's more of a life or death thing, he can glow in the dark if he wants to, and he's hyper aware of changes (due to ~energy~). His diet is batteries... Jk, but seriously he does not eat like a human would, he straight up eats things that will help with energy. Like I said earlier, he's licked an exposed outlet like it was an espresso shot. Downside is he can't see for shit in the dark so he's reliant on sensing energies, nightvision, or having one of his buddies that can see in the dark guide him. Can be killed if his brain stem is destroyed, but is also very weakened by the typical stuff (gunshots, stab wounds, severe bodily trauama, etc). but can be severely weakened by being trapped in insulated rooms/wrapped in insulators. If exposed to these things and not able to find a sustainable source of electrical energy, he will die. (rubber, steel, copper are some good insulators)

Gaz

I don't know why but I'm gonna make him a Siren. For some reason Siren!Gaz just melts my heart and I wanna hold him. I don't care if he can lure me to my death with his voice, I wanna hear him sing :'(

He's typically pretty human appearing, it's a natural instinct for Sirens, but when he's tired or distracted (like working out/doing paperwork), you can start to see some very fish-like qualities. Mostly very gorgeous iridescent scales around his ears, eyes, neck, shoulders, knees, top of his feet, and back of his hands.

Can breathe underwater, has the best vision in the dark, eats like a typical person but with more sea food cravings or cravings for fatty foods (like human), when in full Siren form he doesn't have a "mermaid's" tail, it's much more shark-like so he can accelerate really fast. Generally just more shark-like, except his scales are fish-like. His nose, like sharks, is super sensitive to certain changes, so booping his nose always throws him off if it's surprise, but he will also bump his nose into people/things without realizing it to get a better sense of it. Can be killed by things humans can, susceptible to parasites.

Price

Honestly, his has been the hardest but I'm gonna do changeling. I honestly don't know a lot about them, and quite frankly I've already got one homebrewed monster here, so why not another?

He's definitely the one everyone mistakes for being human cause he's so good at keeping up appearances. But there are always times where Price manipulates his appearance/body just enough that it's a little startling for those that believed him to be human to suddenly realize he's very much not.

He's got better eyesight in the dark than a human, but nowhere near close to what Gaz has. He's good at picking up on scents though, as his nose is a bit more attune to sniffing out humans than anything. He's not a bloodsucker, but changelings typically feed on weakened/ill/very old/very young humans, so he's able to tell when something is wrong with someone. Stifles the more violent urges of his species by eating a primarily meat heavy diet with a lot of raw veggies for the crunch. Most susceptible to things with iron or salt (obvi) but can still be fatally wounded by stab wounds/gunshots. Most other stuff won't kill him but it'll certainly hurt and he'll complain the entire time.

Alejandro and Rudy

These two are werewolves and Los Vaqueros is their pack :'). Most Vaqueros are also werewolves, but they do have a variety of other creatures commonly found in North America.

And finally, the whole point of this: we got our boy Ghost as a literal human being. Nothing more, just a dude. A dude with so much fucked up shit happening to him constantly it's just assumed he must be inhuman. NOPE! He's just a dude, a very very unlucky, and probably cursed, dude.

So yeah, that's what I have so far! Working title is "Cheers to the Unknown"

Taglist (if you want added let me know in the replies/reblogs): @tacticaltaxonomist @cthulhusstepmom

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nescaveckwriter · 10 months ago

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Wandering Love - Chapter Four

A/N: Y'all this is Eeeekk🤭😋! yes freaking exciting, I🩷 love writing about Cowboy Benny, also this will have you will Awww moments🥺, and most probably hating me for cliffhanger, (sorry not sorry)🤣😱

Warnings: 18+ Only , Violence, Guns, Swearing, anything else, please let me know.🐞

Word Count: 1998🐞

Credits: Photos - Pinterest & Google🐞

Standing in the bushes he recalled the information he gathered in the town earlier that day, a CJ is this Bobby Singer's guardian, and from what he heard he's quite good. But he sure as hell didn't expect a little woman to point a shotgun at him, so he begun to speak, he sounded tired, it was a long ride "I didn't come here to cause no trouble mam"

"Oh well aren't you mighty nice, the name is CJ" she haulers

"I just came to talk" so this is CJ he thought to himself

"Oh really came to talk or take him?" Stepping off the porch now "Either way , you better go back where you came from"

"Not the trusting kind I see" he sneered

"No what gave you that idea, show yourself now" she shouted

"I'll come out, but I gotta warm you CJ, I'm the fastest gunslinger in the west, try too shoot me and you'll be the one biting the dust"

"I don't just shoot, step out of the shadows now" she demanded

The large man stepped out, three times her size, but she's dealt with plenty of men twice her size. No way she'd stand down from a fight due to a giant. As he walked slowly closer, something about him seemed familiar. He came to a stop, as she looked up at him, that's when se saw his blue eyes glistening in the moonlight, how could this be, it's him, its really him. "Benny" she exclaimed, before she could stop herself, she let the shotgun come to a fall, as she ran towards him.

He couldn't believe his eyes, it's his Willow. He couldn't form a word, as she ran towards him, jumping into his arms he held it out towards her instinctively. He sure as hell didn't waste a single second, he devoured her lips, like a man who's ravished, a man who's been left in the desert for too long. Clearly she felt the same, not once breaking the kiss, well that was until they heard multiple horses, surrounding them, a single gunshot was fired up in the air. Benny and CJ drew their 45's, backs standing against each other facing the bandit's. He sounded happy under the circumstances "Nice, 45 peacemaker, Willow"

She smiled, "the best gunslinger in the west, trained me too use them, and I stuck too it"

The hooded guy rode closer, bandana covering his mouth, "Ah little ol' CJ, protecting an murderer?"

Squinting her eyes, disgust in her voice "Dalton"

Benny spoke behind her, "you know this clown?"

"Yes his the eldest of the Jefferson brothers, and the damn reason Bobby lost his wife"

Benny turned to face her for a second "so it's true you, protect those who can't protect themselves"

All she got out was "I try" before the other two Jefferson brothers stormed the both of them.

Benny and CJ, both holstered their peacemakers, ready to get down and dirty in a fist fight.

Benny almost lost his mind, when he saw the one brother throwing a punch towards his little woman child, but she ducked giving him a upper jab, instead. The fist in his ribs caught him off guard, swinging his right fist towards the man's face, bringing the bandit too a fall, the gunshot took him by surprise, as it pierced his shoulder, glaring towards the man on the ground who shot him, Benny drew his 45, before the man could get off a second round, he planted that bullet between his eyes. Turning to face Willow, seeing she ran into the house, to probably get Bobby, the guy she fought off earlier is lying in the grass with a bloodied face.

Facing the old man in his wheelchair, holding a hunting rifle in hand "Come on Bobby we gotta go." He didn't hesitate he just simply agreed. She took ahold of the handles, pushing him towards the door, but she was met by Dalton.

"Hello pretty thing" he taunted her.

"Get out of my way Dalton" she ordered

He started to laugh, but it was short lived as she drew that 45, and pulled the trigger, she just simply winged him. Even though he deserved to die, that's not who she was, she will wound her enemies, never try to kill them unless it's absolutely necessary.

Dalton got up, holding his shoulder to stop the bleeding, he glared in her direction "I'll get you CJ"

As she and Bobby went through the front door, she caught a glimpse of Benny, he was fighting with two other men, of course he was winning the fight. The moment he punched the last of the men he fighting, she shouted for his help with getting Bobby off of the stairs and onto a horse.

He whistled for Shadow, she did the same with Savannah, the horses came running, Benny quickly lifted Bobby out of his chair, and tied him to Shadow's back, got up, as did CJ, they ran, as if a tornado was about too hit the place.

Dalton and what's left of his men, quickly chased after them, furiously he shouted behind. "You killed my brother, your going to pay, I'll take something from you too Benny" he knew exactly who Benny Lafitte was, the man who weren't scared about anything, and he sure as hell didn't have any weaknesses until now that is, he saw the way those two kissed. With that being said he took his rope and started swinging, it up in the air, he isn't the best damn Rodeo rider for nothing, the lasso is swirling in the, air, just before the turn, in the road he flung the rope, catching his little steer so too say. He tucked at the rope, pulling it towards his direction, she travelled through the air, yelping when she hit the dirt road.

She saw the way Dalton grinned, pulling her closer towards his horse, she was defenseless as the rope, tightened around her arms and waist.

Benny heard the moment when his Willow screamed, he turned around running towards the sounds but he was met , by a couple of men and their rifles. He returned fire as best he could with just one arm, he was out gunned , knowing the only chance for her too survive is for him too get away, get Bobby to safety, he turned around, his cowboy boots giving Shadow the extra motivation, to run like the wind, and he did, until the sound of the gunshots died down.

His blue eyes has turned dark, his jawline clenched and his mind is racing with terrible thoughts of what will happen to his sweet woman child. He just got her back, he can't loose her again. Swearing to himself, that he'll do anything in his power to save her.

Dalton's laugh was so damn irritating, if she could only write that smug off his face with her fist, but no, she's tied up too a tree trunk, he took her peacemakers, for himself, damn bastard. Every now and then he'll make a turn , kicking her or punching her in the face, of course she grunted now and again, but there aren't no way, she'll show him, in how much pain she really is, pretty sure, her whole body is bruised from the fall.

He walks closer too her, clenching her chin in his sweaty fingers, he smirked "Oh your going to be so much fun"

He came closer forcing a kiss, she tried to look away, but he hold her in place. She kicked him away and he demanded one of his men too tie up her legs as well.

"Feisty little one are you, I'll break you in don't worry " he grinned

A sly smile tugged at her lips, "I'll never break, you can try your best, but I will never" she meant every damn word.

He just laughed and sneered "We'll see about that." He walked back towards the campfire, sat down and drank some moonshine, his men joined in on the fun, laughing and telling each other about how they will take turns with her, and what they'll do to her. She had too be honest with herself, she was scared, she was so damn scared, so when one by one started to get drunk, she knew it was now or never, the entire time she tugged at the rope, pulling it loose thread by thread, her hands and fingers where a bloodied mess, but one hand came loose then the other one, every now and again, when they didn't look at her like she was prey, she'd start to untie the rope around her legs as well, both ropes was still around her giving the impression she was still tied up, but it was loose enough so that she could escape the moment she got a chance. She heard Dalton bark orders at his brother, to have his turn first, and that's when she saw the opportunity, as he came, closer towards her, he taunted her with a knife in hand tracing from her jaw to her collar bone right towards her chest. Without warning she kicked him on he's knees, taking the knife from him, placing it against his throat, maybe a little too hard as the blood started seeping through.

"Y'all better listen to me Dalton, give me my weapons back, and let me walk on outta here, then, you won't need too loose yet another brother" she warned.

He did as he was told throwing her belt with the holstered weapons towards her, he knew she one against ten so the odds was in his favor.

She catches the belt with one hand. The other hand still holding the knife in place. As she clipped the belt in place around her waist, she drew her 45 in her left hand, then letting the knife go, quickly drawing the other 45 as well, the man on the floor, flung around ready to take her, off her feet, but he stared down the barrel of the gun. Clicking her tongue "No I wouldn't advise that Cowboy"

Before anyone could reply, she turned and started running, she aren't no coward but like Kenny Rogers said "You got know when hold em' and now when too fold em"

She heard the men's footsteps and gunshots behind her, but she just ran, she ran all deeper and deeper into the forest, trying to decide, which way to go she felt the bullet piercing through skin, off her right shoulder blade, she tumbled, falling to her knees, maybe it was the adrenaline maybe it was the fear of those men catching up with her, but she just got up, blood streaming down her arm, she knew it was like a beacon for the men after her, giving away her position, so when she saw the riverbank, she knew that was her only chance of survival. It's almost nearly dark again, but its here only way. Jumping in she felt the coldness of the water against her skin. The river current was strong, almost too strong, she tried too swim but couldn't move her right arm, so she just stopped letting the current guide her. Hearing Dalton shout "She's as good as dead, let's go"

A relieved sigh left her lips, she made it, she was going to be okay. A dead tree stump floating around held her afloat, she felt the current getting stronger and stronger, she shouted when she saw the reason behind the strong current, "No! A damn waterfall" she tried to calm herself down, knowing there's nothing left for her too do, at least she was able too see and kiss the love of her life one last time, while thinking about the events the past 20 or so hours, the current took her over the edge, thousands and thousands of rumbling water plunging down with her. She went under as the tree stump broke, the last thing she could see was the moonlight shining through the water.

#bennylafitte #benny lafitte #wandering love #nescaveckwriter #spn fanfic #western #wild west #cowboy #romance #Spotify

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