#i like the image i just can't stand the smell

[mysticfemme]

I hate the whole English farming culture but something about an American cowboy butch who drives a pickup truck and wears strong boots and has big muscles... uh what was I talking about again?

[lymtw]

All Is Forgiven

Thinking of an argument with Toji that leaves you mute by choice towards him. He still talks to you and asks you questions, and while you don't turn away from him, you don't respond to him either. He ends up having to figure out whatever he needs on his own because after a minute or so you huff and walk away from the conversation.

"Mama," Toji calls from the bedroom, rummaging through his clothing drawers. "Have you seen my gym shorts?"

If he was able to get a word out of you, he would know that you washed them for him. Though you were still sizzling with anger towards him, you pulled them out of the dryer and walked them over to the room. He could hear your little footsteps as you approached the room, and when he turned to look at you, he noticed you were holding his shorts in your hand.

Your eyes were vacant towards him. You didn't want them to be because it sucks when you can't look at him with the endless amount of love you have in store for him. It's still there, but it's being masked by a poker face.

You toss the shorts onto the bed and leave. Toji sighs, irked by the fact that it's actually starting to sting now. Your disregard for him because you're ruled by your emotions and he lets things go too easily because he can't hold a grudge towards you, even if he feels you're in the wrong.

Toji never knew how much he depended on your voice until you wouldn't let him hear it. He depends on you to tell him where things are because without you they would be scattered all over the place. He doesn't know your method of organization, but somehow when he needs something and looks to you in order to find it, you pull it out from right under his nose. He depends on you to tell him he's doing a good job, and to tell him you love him, and just reassure him in general. It makes him feel good to know that someone thinks he's good enough, but recently the one person who feeds him affection like it's as important as food and water, has left him to starve. You haven't said a word to him in almost two days, and he feels like he's starting to go crazy. The sound of his own voice is driving him insane. It's gotten so bad that he had to make a mental note of how he's going to get you back that same night.

Toji leaves for the gym and texts you during his time there. He includes some images because it's now an unspoken rule that he always has to send you gym pics.

[ Attachment: 3 Images]

... 😳🤐

Yeah, I know you like those. I'll be home soon.

You take the time to doll yourself up while he's still out. It's for him, but you won't tell him that until you come back from your "night out". Really, you're just gonna go get dinner for both of you from his favorite little restaurant. You just want to see how far he's willing to let this go, because you're caving. You're ready to apologize even when you know he's not upset at all. You're ready to spoil him in order to make up for those severe feelings you held towards him. You're ready to hear about how stubborn and unbelievable you are for this little act you pulled.

You spray on some perfume and walk out of the bathroom, just in time to catch Toji walking through the door.

"Woof, where're you going, ma?" He asks, setting down his gym bag before absorbing everything you were gracing him with. His eyes flit up and down your body, lingering on the very bare skin of the legs that come out from under your skirt. He can smell your perfume from where he stands, its elegant scent masking even the smell of his own potent sweat.

You didn't answer his question, and left him to wonder why you're all dressed up at seven o'clock at night. Was it a girl's night or were you openly showing him that you have options? Did he miss a message or a call from you?

You grabbed your wallet and scooted past him. You walked halfway down the corridor of your apartment building before realizing that maybe this was a bit much. You would make him worry over you going on a five minute walk to grab some food? All so you can show him you're mad? You cracked.

🥟🥡🍜.

Toji was staring at his screen, waiting for anything from you. The screen flashes like some sort of miracle and your message is seen by him. He chuckles, feeling a sense of relief wash over him at the sight of your little emoticons.

You came back home as fast as possible, bags of food in hand as you patiently waited for the elevator to bring you up to your floor. You took your time walking through the corridor, this time, not knowing how you would react once you saw Toji or if you would immediately say something to him. You're ready to talk to him, you want to talk to him. You miss him, you love him, and you hate the passiveness you threw yourself into around him as an act of retaliation.

There you were, standing in front of the door, nervous beyond belief for what was behind it. You collected yourself and twisted the doorknob, ready to face anything that came to you.

Toji stood from the couch and walked over to you to take the bags from your hands. The smell of his body wash wafted into your nose. There was an imaginary white flag hanging out of your pocket, and it was about to fall out to signal your surrender to Toji.

He pecks your cheek and watches in real time as color floods into your face. It's one of the most adorable things he's ever seen—you standing there so rigidly afterwards. He gives you a soft smile and resists the urge to coo at you for being so cute. Instead, he heads to the table to put the bags of food down.

You shut the door, and within a split second, Toji was in front of you again. "Ma," he says, sounding a little more desperate than he thought he would. "Say something." You stand there like a statue—unmoving, but unlike a statue, you are easily moveable. Especially, by Toji. "Anything, mama, please." He crouches down at your feet, his warm hands resting on the backs of your knees and his cheek resting on one of your thighs. This position made it look like you were being worshipped by him, and anyone who ever saw him do this would know that it was true, because he worshipped everything about you. From the top of your head, to the ground your feet stood on.

"Don't you miss having my hands on you?" They glide up and down the backs of your thighs. He looks up at your stunned expression. You won't look down at him, so he gets to see the way you swallow the words dying to leave your mouth, and the slight widening of your eyes as he lets his hands roam your lower body. "I know I do. I've been in hell these past couple days." He presses a soft kiss to your knee, then one more on your thigh. "I didn't mean what I said. I don't think you're selfish, baby. Maybe i'm just a greedy asshole," he says, rekindling the subject of what led to your silence towards him. His hand maneuvers around your leg so that his palm is on your thigh, making its way up towards the inner part of it. "But, I know something," his lips trail further up your thigh, softly kissing your skin. "I'm greedy about you. That can't and won't be changed, even when we argue like idiots."

You put your hand on his head as he starts kissing up your inner thighs, making his way even further up beneath your skirt.

"Come on, my sweet girl," he murmurs, his lips meeting the front of your underwear. "Tell me you want me to stop. Tell me you hate that my filthy paws are on you, right now."

Your legs tremble at the lightness of his touch, and you internally cringe at how sensitive you've always been for him.

"Toji..." you gasp. You feel his warm tongue flatten between your legs, a slow upwards drag of the muscle makes your thighs quiver before him. You whimper at the damp warmth his saliva leaves on your panties. "Fuck..." you moan, breathily. "Don't stop. Stay there, please."

The first word you reintroduced yourself with being a moaned out rendition of his name was heaven reaching down to pat him on the back for knowing exactly what to do to get you to talk again.

"Open wider for me, baby. Let me see," Toji says, your skirt still veiled over his head. You take a step back so that your back is against the door and widen your stance a little more. He hooks one of your legs over his shoulder and you shudder when his tongue returns to slide through your clothed folds. He doesn't even need to produce that much saliva to drench the fabric of your underwear because you've done that for him already with your leaking arousal.

You shut your eyes and rest your head against the door as Toji continues his act of filth between your thighs. You can hear him panting below you, your taste pleasantly coating his tongue every time he sucks on the garment that clings to you.

You cry out his name with sharp breaths following, your fingers tangling into his locks, gripping and tugging as his lips catch onto your cunt. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," you grit out, whimpering at the contrast between his mouth and his hands. His hands offer a gentle massage to your thighs, softly kneading the plush between his fingers. His mouth moves purposefully because he knows exactly what it takes to make you fall apart with it. He coats his tongue with your essence every time he laps at the wet patch on your underwear, sticky webs of arousal connecting him to you.

"T-Toji!" You squeal, your cunt throbbing with every brush of his tongue. "I'm gonna cum... Fuck, i'm gonna cum..." you whine.

Toji pushes your underwear to the side, and glides his tongue through your generously slicked folds once and you're instantly arching your back off the door, squirming in his hold and moaning carelessly as he sloppily makes out with your cunt. He desperately chases the sound of your pleasure-ridden voice, wanting to hear the way it raises in pitch when he strokes you just right. He doesn't want it to stop, it's been too long. Two days way too long. You tug at his hair with one hand, dragging the nails of your other hand down the door. You breathe heavily as Toji manipulates your pleasure until your thighs are trembling.

Toji pulls away and lifts your skirt off his head. He lowers your leg back down and stands up from his crouched position. He faces you with glossy lips that shine with all the juices he collected from you, some of it drooling down his chin to give him an even more messy appearance. He presses his lips to yours, making slow movements to allow you to realize what is happening while your eyes are closed. You can taste yourself on his lips as you catch the rhythm.

There's a loud smack in the last kiss before he releases you, a feral look in his green eyes as he dotes on your blissed out appearance. You look too pure for someone who's just experienced something so sinful. "Hey, look at me," he coos, cupping your cheeks in his hands. "Look at me," he repeats, staring at you as you try to catch your breath with closed eyes.

You hum, rolling your eyes open to lazily stare back at him. Your eyelids felt so heavy as you looked at him, but you liked how vigilant he was being. It made you crack a grin, a small gesture that had Toji's heart thudding a little quicker, now.

"I wanna fuck you so bad, mama." His eyes trail yours as they look away from his gaze. "If this is your reaction to my mouth, I don't even know what to expect for when I'm inside you."

You look down to see what's been poking your thigh for the past minute or so, and it's the monster in his pants, outlined for your eyes to quickly spot and everything.

"Come on," you say, reaching your hand out to him. He takes it and allows you to lead him to the bedroom.

Toji shuts the door and locks it to give the situation a deeper level of intimacy. There's no one there but the two of you and yet you feel even more secluded by the gesture.

He wasn't aggressive in the way he bared you for his eyes. He pulled you close to him by the waist, your body against his as he peeled your layers of clothes off.

"Stay," he says, when you take a step back. He takes that step towards you again, placing his hands on your hips, and snaking them around to your back to locate the zipper for your skirt. He exhales through his nose, lidded eyes watching the longing expression on your face closely as he pulls down the zipper and allows the article to fall on the floor. His fingers fiddle with the hem of your shirt before he fully slides his hands beneath it, and raises it up your torso higher and higher. You put your arms up and allow him to slip it off your head.

He makes haste of getting his own clothes off, a sly smirk decorating his face when he sees you admiring him from where you sit on the end of the bed as you take off your bra and underwear. You're forced further up the bed by Toji as he inches closer and closer to you. You reach a dead end and welcome the suffocating warmth of his body as he cages you onto the bed.

"Don't do that to me again, mama," he murmurs, before leaning down to peck your lips. "Don't let me talk to myself for that long when you have such a pretty voice to respond with."

You laugh, pulling a small grin from him. "I didn't think you'd care, to be honest. I thought you'd tell me i'm being childish or ridiculous."

"Nah, princess. I thought I was gonna die."

You giggle, pulling him close again. "You're exaggerating."

"You wouldn't let me touch you. Not even when we went to bed, so it was like we were friends instead of lovers sleeping together. Especially with how far on your side you slept."

"Oh, baby," you coo, pressing multiple quick apologetic kisses to his lips. He chuckles at the affection, and his eyes close instinctively as your kisses become more widespread on his face. He missed this more than anything. "What can I do for your forgiveness, my love?"

"Just let me fuck you, ma. That's all. Give me my privilege to all of this, again." His hand slowly trails from your chest to your stomach, a touch you longed for dearly during those two days that you verbally ignored him.

"It's yours," you whisper to him. You peer up at him with your constellation eyes, silently begging him to realize how much you need him. "I'm yours, so show me the use you have for the privilege over my body, baby."

He leans down to kiss you, softly. He's desperate for you, but his lips don't falter their delicate synchrony because of it. He guides the tip of his cock through your folds, rubbing up and down the slickness a couple times before slowly sinking into you. Your ability to tangle with Toji's lips slowly deteriorates, and your focus strays to the stretching happening lower down your body, so Toji picks up the slack and feeds you his kisses.

"Come on," he groans out. Not even he is immune to the rebirth of sex with you. You're warm and inviting, and you embrace the pain and comfort he offers every time he craves you or you crave him. This time is no exception. "Kiss me back, sweetheart. Give them all to me," he mutters, before attempting to connect his lips to yours again. You dig your heels into the mattress and your toes curl as you feel his girth continue to submerge inside you.

Toji cups your chin and uses his fingers to squish your cheeks together into a makeshift pout for him to kiss. He can hear your hummed little whimpers in response to him sheathing himself further into you. He was being gentle, because hurting you is a crime in his world.

"Fuck, I missed this, mama," he says, goosebumps rising on his torso as he drags himself out of you halfway and pushes himself back in again. "So warm..." he says over the sound of your pleasured moan. He sighs, a grunt following as he starts a careful rocking rhythm into you. "I could stay inside you forever."

"I could keep you here forever," you rephrase, gazing up at him with those eyes he unequivocally loves. They've reverted back to the default loving expression you hold for him, the vacancy of your previous gaze now filled with love, excitement, lust, and overall enchantment. It's a beautiful thing to see your hurricanes subside.

He leans down to kiss you again, distributing the kisses on your face and leading them towards your neck. You could feel his abs dragging up and down your stomach with every roll of his hips against yours.

"Mmm... Toji," you moan, bringing your hands to his back. One of them moves up to the nape of his neck, threading through the dampened locks of his hair, the other traces his spine to distract you from how badly you want to dig your nails into him.

"I know," he coos, kissing the spot beneath your ear. "I know, doll. It's always this good with you."

You gasp at the feeling of his cock prodding the more sensitive area within you. "Right there, right there... Oh..." you moan out, inevitably digging your nails into his shoulder blades while Toji directs his kisses back up your neck and towards your face again so he can see the honest expression on it. You're lost in pleasure, vibrating as another orgasm rushes through you.

"Fuck, mama.. let me-" he groans, outwardly losing it at the overflow of your juices. "Let me see those pretty eyes," he pants, gripping your waist a little more harshly as he feels his cock on the brink of expelling into you. "Need you to watch me," he says, taking in the way your lips part to release your sounds of utter satisfaction. Your eyes flutter open to center on his greedy eyes. You mirror his lustful, lidded gaze, the look enough to make him spill inside you, making your cunt even sloppier. "You're gorgeous, ma," he says, mindlessly, as he fucks into you with a little more fervor. "Fucking stunning," he mutters through pants, to which you respond with a sly smirk. The gesture lured a groan out of him and made his cock twitch as he finished releasing into you.

You giggle when he stills his hips. Your combined attempts to regulate your breathing fills the silence that follows. "What're you laughing at?" He asks, massaging your hip with his thumb.

"You tell me that all the time like you're obsessed with me or something."

"And if I am?" he says with a voice so deep you have to blink to see that it's still your gentle giant of a man. "Is it too much for you? Can you handle it? Am I suffocating you, baby?" he purrs, cupping your cheeks while leaning in close to emphasize his points. All it does is allow you to closely admire how handsome he is and really think about what's happening in this moment. This green-eyed, raven-haired man, with the prettiest pointed nose and the most attractive scarred lips, is bedding you, and doing it so well.

"Never. Come closer and bite," you murmur.

He takes your lips in his again, a little more aggressive than before. You asked him to bite, and that's exactly what he's doing. The make out has him rocking both of you a little faster, working you towards yet another orgasm. You nip at his bottom lip and run your tongue over it when hisses. You hum out a little giggle, and moan into his mouth when he jolts into you.

"God, i'll bust again if you keep doing that. I'm serious, mama" he groans, swiping his tongue over his stinging bottom lip. You think he's being dramatic so when he leans down to kiss you again, you bite his bottom lip and suck on it. You gasp, releasing his lip and stare at him with wide eyes as his excessive warmth spurts into your cunt, filling it to the brim and beyond, to the point of leakage.

"F-Fuck... you're terrible," he groans, shuddering with tense abdominal muscles as he lures the entirety of his orgasm out. "Cum," he says, panting as he picks up the pace of his rutting to get you to follow his orgasm. "I can feel you clenching around me like hell. I know you want to," he says, reaching a hand between you and him to stimulate your clit.

Your already labored breathing picks up and your heart is pounding in your ears aggressively as you roll your hips back against his. You whimper as you feel your peak get closer and closer, a cried out and breathy "fuck!" leaving you when it arrives, followed by high pitched moans that make Toji's heart race. You arched your back off the mattress as you reached the zenith of your orgasm with the help of Toji's finger rapidly rubbing your clit while he maintained his satisfying pace inside you.

You whimper, slapping a hand onto Toji's wrist to stop his movements on you. He smirks at the sight of your trembling thighs, your heaving chest, and the sound of your dazed hums. You always were such a delicate thing. So fragile that even with just enough of his attention, he could break you.

"Tired yet?" He asks, admiring your relaxed facial features. You nod with your eyes closed, your lips parted to release little puffs of air. "Thought you'd be. I'll go grab some towels for us to shower." He pulls out of you, taking a moment to admire your collaborative masterpiece.

"Baby..." you whine, sitting up when you feel his weight lift off the bed. "I can't get up." You dramatically let yourself fall back on the bed and stick your tongue out to portray your exhaustion.

"Get up, you faker. That's all you have to do and i'll take care of the rest."

"Too tired to wash myself right now..." you say, waking up for a second before closing your eyes again. Toji can see the sly grin on your face and the little shake of your stomach as you stifle your giggles.

"Guess you're too tired to eat, too, huh? You know i've got a huge appetite, and I could eat all that food you brought by myself."

"You wouldn't," you say, abruptly sitting up on the bed and squinting at him. "There's enough to feed three people in those bags."

"I've got the stomach of three people in one, so you better catch up before you're left with my seconds."

You sigh, too tired to move, but you get up anyway and trail behind Toji. "Baby, can you pleeease clean me up? I'm beat."

He puts his hands on your shoulders as he now walks behind you. "Sure, but don't complain when I take longer on certain areas."

[wyvernest]

mating szn

part 1 (part2)

pairing: miguel o'hara x f!gf!reader

warnings: smut, fluff, scent marking, primal play, rutting miguel, possessiveness, reader is ovulating

summary: miguel comes home feeling extremely needy

You're preparing dinner when you hear the opaque glass doors of your shared mansion open for your lover to come in. It's almost midnight, and it doesn't take you longer than a few seconds to realize how tired he has to be.

Miguel walks into the open kitchen, frowning. 

"Baby! I missed you!" You jolt to him, pans clattering dangerously as you throw them aside, careful enough not to ruin your work but swiftly enough to get to him as fast as possible.

You curl your arms around his neck, standing on your tiptoes, pressing your chest flush against his hard pecs. His hands grab at your hips, absentmindedly and by habit.

"What's wrong?". You place a gentle, loving hand on his cheek, trying to meet his gaze. But he's not looking at you. His eyes are darting all over your face and body, brows still creased. 

He could feel it, your scent. A collection of the whole day, everything you've done. The food, the places you've been. He feels like it's been so long since this morning, when he woke up beside you, kissing along your neck. 

He feels a surge of blood rush from his heart and through his lucidity, a shot of adrenaline inexplicably taking over him.

You don't smell of him anymore. Anger bubbles in his chest as he thinks of all the people you must've talked to around HQ, who didn't smell his strong musk on you, who had no idea you belonged to him.

He's never felt like this before. He brushes the unfamiliar feeling aside for a moment, grounded by the silent plea in your eyes.

"I'm good. Just a bit tired." He brushes wild strands of baby hairs out of your face, finally matching the loving look you've greeted him with from the start.

He leaves you to finish the meal and steps into the shower, hoping that an ice cold stream would cool him down. Only it doesn't do anything but worsen the situation.

The second he feels the water spray hit his body, he flinches, unlike the usual relief he gets. His skin is abnormally feverish, the ghost of your body in his arms taunting him further into madness. He soon finds himself desperate to get out, to be reunited with you and the warmth only you could ever provide for him.

Images of your supple body breaking in his embrace flood his already lust crazed mind against his better judgment, and he feels his cock fatten slightly at the memory.

When he takes it in his hand, he nearly starts bucking his hips into his hold, sensitive and insanely needy. He imagines you in the bathtub with him, arching your back over the edge, spreading your legs for him to pound his cock into you under the hot stream, your moans echoing and ringing into the stone tiles.

He can't take it anymore. His body aches for your touch and attention.

Exiting the shower, he pulls a pair of loose boxers up his thighs, the only thing he can tolerate with the fever that has taken hold of him so suddenly.

And then, he focuses on the image of you, standing where he left you, gently stirring in a bowl. You're wearing one of his t-shirts, draped down to the middle of your thighs and over your elbows, an oversized dress. 

He approaches you, wrapping his arms around your front and waist, dropping a fraction of his weight on your back just to keep you from moving or fighting against it. You throw your head back, closing your eyes.

His head drops to your neck, kissing here and there, exhales smoldering hot on your throat, stopping momentarily to deeply inhale your scent. Among all others, there is a distinctive smell of you, of your arousal and need for him that drives him mad.

"Wait- Miguel, let me finish this-" You protest, your creamy tone betraying your true intentions. 

He groans, kissing your naked shoulder, his hands squeezing your form in front of him. 

All tasks are ultimately abandoned as he pushes you against the counter, his defined abs hitting your back, the marble surface cold against your thighs. He presses his fat, hard cock up against your plush ass, his hands fondling your breasts through his shirt, groaning low and quiet in your ear. 

With his biceps curled and constricted around your navel, your body goes limp in his hold, trembling ever so slightly as his warm, broad palms squeeze the soft flesh of your tits. He pushes them together, massaging gently, almost experimentally. He flattens them with the heels of his palms softly, only to them constrict his fingers around them so perfectly, fondling and groping away.

"Mm- Miguel, oh-" You breathe out, finding balance on your hands, arching your back into him. You feel your core pulsate with need, swelling up under his movements. You're almost completely wrapped up in his massive body, with nowhere to go. 

And just then, you accidentally knock a knife off the counter, startled when it hits the marble floor with a loud clank. He jumps, backing up from your body. Your face is flushed, eyes half lidded, breath heavy, nipples perked under the thin cotton. Landing back to your senses, you move to bend down and pick it up.

His eyes automatically snap to your round ass and the dark wet spot on your panties that invites him so blatantly to shove his cock in between your pussy lips. 

He can't help it. He can't control himself anymore.

Balance leaves your position as you feel his rough, eager hands grip your hips, harshly pulling you back into him. The plumpness of your ass hits the girthy shaft of his cock, but before you can look for the lost balance with your hands in front of you, he thrusts his erection up against your clothed cunt, making you whine in need.

"Ay, mi amor-" His voice is rugged and satisfied, laced with a deep groan. A broad palm hits the side of your behind, making the tender flesh ripple against his hard-on. "Te necesito muchísimo ahora." (I need you so badly right now.)

You yelp, perplexed, instinctively grabbing his wrists for balance. He pulls you up with your back against his chest, splaying a cursory hand across your abdomen, sending shivers thundering down your spine and butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

"Miguel!" You playfully fight against his possessive hold, "Is this your way of helping me prepare dinner?!" You free yourself, giggling and letting a wide smile take over your features. Stepping back and extending your arms in front of you in an attempt to shield yourself from him, you chuckle wholeheartedly.

Seeing you resist, he lets out a defeated exhale.

"Fine. I'll be good, lo prometo." (I promise). He motions for you to come closer and trust that he'll behave. Letting your guard down, you approach the counter, eyes fixated on his playfully.

He feels your body heat nearing him, so comfortable and tempting. The smell of you, and everything that drives him crazy about your presence alone. His breaths deepen and quicken abruptly, his cock straining in his boxers, twitching freely against the material, begging to be enveloped in your wet warmth.

He looks down at you like a panther about to pounce, waiting for the perfect moment to do so. Your smile curls wider, eyes shining with lust and a teasing playfulness. His body dwarfs yours, his shadow alone making you feel puny. His shoulders are tense, the same way they are when he's on top of you, riding you into next Tuesday.

He shifts to place a clawed hand on the counter, the sharp edged digits tapping against the surface catching your attention momentarily in the corner of your eye. He exploits the split second it takes you to look down to his arm, snapping and squatting to grab your thighs, throwing you over his shoulder.

"NO! You promised! Miguel! The food!" You try to reason, throwing any and each accusation you can think of, knowing that you definitely don't want him to drop it and leave you alone, truly. And he knows it. 

And that's when he feels it. With your ass on his bulky shoulder, he can smell it. Your arousal, dripping hot. His fat cock finally hardens completely, its monstrously girthy shaft poking through the shorts. 

You're ovulating.

Groaning ruggedly, he delivers a rough spank to your plump ass before pushing two fingers over the wet mound of your clothed pussy, running them over your slit, teasingly, collecting more of your scent.

He swears the only thing stopping him from fucking you raw right on the kitchen floor is your comfort.

"Okay! You win! Put me down, I'll let you fuck me."

Without a second thought, he places you back on the floor, hands on your hips, talons grazing your tender skin deliciously.

His eyes have reddened, pupils blown wide, exhales hot and labored. You don't want anything more than to wrap your arms around his neck, to press yourself into him, to feel his hard abdomen on your stomach, his pecs on your soft tits, his mouth on your neck.

But you want to see more of how needy he is.

You jolt to the stairs with no warning, climbing the winding wooden steps like a cat. You hear him behind you, his weight put onto each movement as he chases close behind, the staircase creaking under him.

Looking behind before reaching the hallway of the first floor of your mansion, you feel your panties dampen at the sight of the man and the sheer size of him, massive shoulders slightly hunched forward in focus and adrenaline, his height successfully making you stagger on your way to the bedroom.

divider by @cafekitsune

HOPE YALL LIKE IT IMMA CONTINUE ‼️‼️

a/n: primal play is thoroughly discussed beforehand. insisting that your partner has sex with you even after resistance without having discussed the aforementioned resistance is abusive.

[jeonginsleftcheek]

Need a hand?

pairing: fuckboy!felix x afab!reader

genre: smut, enemies to ???

word count: 4.7k

synopsis: you need help assembling your new computer and the only available person is the guy you can't stand.

warnings: dom!felix, lots of teasing, protected sex (go figure), spanking, hair pulling, lots of 'good girl', fingering, oral (m), cum swallowing

a/n: enjoy🫶🏻 wrote this in a day, again, felix is my muse💕

~ divider by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

~ Masterlist

"What's in it for me?" he leans on the wall with that stupid smirk of his and those big stupid sparkly eyes.

Anger is already bubbling up inside you and your hand twitches, the image of you slapping him across the face and wiping that stupid smirk off runs through your mind.

"Can't you just do something out of decency?" you scoff and he chuckles deeply.

"Maybe I'm not decent." he shrugs nonchalantly, flicking his cigarette carelessly on the floor.

"You're littering." you cross your arms on your chest.

"And you're stalling. Do you want it or not?" he leans in closer to your face, his freckles on display for you to count.

Not that you care, of course.

Your nose scrunches up at the smell of cigarettes permeating off of him, mixed with his cologne and something distinct about him.

"Fine." you spit and he laughs, leaning away.

"No." he answers and your jaw drops.

"No?" you blink confusedly.

"Ask me again. Nicely. And I might consider it." he says, smirking again.

The urge to slap him out of existence comes back.

"I'll find someone else." you turn around, gritting your teeth.

"No, you won't." he calls behind you. "I know you're embarassed to ask for help. I wonder how you even managed to come to me."

"Shut up." you groan before turning to look at him again.

Instead of a smirk, there's a soft smile on his face and you curse yourself for feeling your heart flutter.

"Come on, dove. I know you're a nice girl and you can ask politely." he smirks again with his tongue in cheek.

You know he's not gonna give up until he gets what he wants.

"Please, come help me assemble my new computer?" you bat your eyelashes a few times for good measure and Felix chuckles.

"See, that wasn't so hard. I'll help you. But it comes with a price. I don't do things like this for free." there's a mischievous glint in his eyes, his tongue darting out to wet his plump lips.

You're totally not looking at them.

"What price?" you ask, your heart beating fast, partly in fear and partly in excitement.

"Oh. Don't worry about that, dove. I'll help you first, and then you'll help me." a shit eating grin spreads on Felix's face.

What did you even agree to?, you think.

He was your last resort, after asking seven of your other close friends (who were sadly close to him), they all turned you down with different excuses leaving you with no options but to ask the guy you hate.

"Whatever." you scoff and turn around. "Tomorrow, 7pm at my apartment. Don't be late."

"Sure thing, dove." he calls behind you and you wish you could curse him out.

Lee Felix.

The campus notorious fuckboy.

Everyone talks about him and his 'conquests', all the girls he slept with and then ghosted, but still every single one of them was obnoxiously crushing on him.

You'd hear them talk, how they wish he'd pick them next and a scowl would form on your face.

Do they not have any respect for themselves?

Though everyone talked about him, you never saw him with any girls.

You figured it's probably because you never attended any sort of parties, only keeping up with your studies and a few close friends.

Sadly, your close friends were friends with Felix and that meant you had to endure his presence.

Whether it was your go-to cafe, or a study session in the library, that asshole had to come and ruin your day.

He flirted openly with you and you'd always tell him to fuck off which only served to make him even more persistent.

He could have anyone he wanted and yet whenever he had the chance, he would throw a suggestive comment your way.

It was ticking you off constantly, and you knew he was playing a game, just trying to add another girl to his ever-growing list of fucks.

You weren't gonna give in.

But as much as you hated him, what you hated even more was the fact that his voice made your stomach flutter and his smile made your heart beat faster.

You'd be damned if you let that affect you, though.

That's what you thought, as you waited for him to arrive to your apartment.

Why are you nervous?, you think as you pace back and forth in your living room, biting on your nails.

Hopefully, he actually knows what he's doing since he brags about being a computer geek or else he'll just be wasting your time.

You frown when you notice that he's almost 20 minutes late.

What an asshole.

A series of knocks break you out of your thoughts and you make your way to the door slowly, letting him wait.

You peek through the peephole and see him standing there, in a tanktop, his hair messy, an unlit cigarette stuck behind his ear and shivers run through your body.

Why does he look so good?

He fidgets around as if he's nervous and you raise your eyebrow as he knocks again and runs his hand through his hair a few times, his plump lips pursed.

You stifle a laugh and decide to open the door.

"Took you long enough." he says with a straight face, obviously giving you the elevator eyes.

You hug yourself with your cardigan and squint at him.

"You're the one who's late!" you scoff in disbelief as he pushes past you and walks in like it's his place.

The audacity.

"Where is it?" he asks, grabbing the cigarette that was on his ear and taking out a lighter.

"You're not smoking in my apartment." you snatch the cigarette out of his mouth, throwing it right into the trash and he looks at you before his face breaks into a smirk.

"Bossy, are we?" he licks his lips.

You're totally not looking...

"Let's just get this over with." you say and turn around but notice he isn't following you.

"What is it now?" you look back at him as he crosses his arms over his chest, intentionally flexing his biceps and you gulp quietly, your eyes raking over his frame.

"What kind of host are you? You didn't even ask me if I wanted something to eat or drink." he says.

"You are insufferable." you scoff, but your cheeks heat up.

"Why, thank you." he bows a little. "I'd like some water, please."

"Fine." you all but stomp your way to the kitchen, contemplating for a moment to bring him literal ice in a glass and make him wait for it to melt.

But, you decide to be the bigger person and not get his arrogant teasing get to you.

"Here." you bring him a glass of water and he sips as he stares at you, and you know he's making sure to drink extra slowly just to get on your nerves.

"The computer parts are in my room." you say and Felix finally follows you.

As soon as he walks in, you can see him analyzing your room as he looks around.

Only then you realize how intimate it is to have someone in your room, taking a glimpse at your inner world and comfort place.

"Nice bed." he smirks, his eyes lingering on your soft baby blue blanket and a few plushies leaning against your pillows.

"Anyways. Here it is." you ignore his little comment, pointing at your table.

"Damn. You need this computer for what?" he asks as he looks over at the parts.

"I wanna start making games on Unity." you say and he chuckles.

"What's funny?" you think he's about to mock you, call you stupid for not knowing how to assemble your own computer yet wanting to do something so intricate like programming and 3D modeling.

"Nothing. I think that's cute." Felix's eyes travel all over your body again and you hug yourself.

"You're weird." is the only thing you can think of to answer, nervousness washing over you as the fact that you're alone with Felix in your room finally settles in your brain.

"This is gonna take a while." he hums.

"Alright, I'll just be on my bed then, catching up with my studies. Let me know if you need something." you say and he snorts.

"I thought you'd like to see what I'm doing so next time you don't have to call me if you hate me so much. It'll be like we're hanging out." Felix smirks and you let out an exhale.

"I'd rather not." you reply shortly before turning your back to him, deciding to ignore him.

You can hear him sigh, and for a while it's quiet, only some lofi music playing from your phone before you hear Felix handling the computer parts.

You concentrate on your book, highlighting the important sentences, and as you fall into a comfortable headspace, you almost forget about Felix.

Almost.

"Hey dove, you got something sweet to snack on?" his deep voice breaks your concentration and when you turn to look at him, he licks his lips suggestively and you have to roll your eyes.

He chuckles at your expression as you get up.

"I'll go see what I have."

You rummage through your kitchen cabinets and find some chocolate cookies which you serve on a plate and bring it together with a glass of juice.

"Thank you, dove." he smirks up at you and you just shake your head, making your way back to your comfy bed.

You're deep into your book when suddenly you feel your bed dip.

"What the hell are you doing?" you squeak when you turn around and see Felix leaning on your pillows, laying on your bed.

"Takin' a break." he closes his eyes with a smirk.

"You can't take a break on my bed."

"Why not? Am I making you nervous, dove?" Felix stares up at you and your heart starts hammering in your chest.

He has no right to look this pretty.

Wait, what?

"Hm?" he grins when you stay quiet.

"You have no effect on me whatsoever."

"Keep telling yourself lies." his voice dips lower as he sits up.

"Besides, it's rude to just lay down on someone's bed." you swallow nervously as Felix reaches towards you.

For some reason you can't move as you think he'll touch you but he doesn't, instead he picks up one of your plushies and looks at it.

"Do they have names?" he asks and you stare at him for a few moments before you start laughing in disbelief.

"What? It's a legit question." he shrugs, still holding the teddy in his hands.

"Why are you here, Felix?" you ignore him.

"To assemble your computer?" he bites on his lip.

He really should stop doing that.

"Yeah. So go do that."

"Damn, you're playing hard to get." he chuckles, leaning towards you.

"What is your problem?" you snap suddenly. "Didn't you like fuck half the campus? Why are you trying to get into my pants?"

His eyes widen a little, his lips falling open as he stares at you.

"I did what?" he chuckles.

"Don't act innocent. Everyone knows you're a fuckboy and you're just trying to fuck every girl here so you can have your list of conquests." you cross your arms over your chest, your mood becoming sour.

"Wow, people here really have a knack for telling stories." Felix chuckles again as he leans back on your pillows.

You frown as you turn to look at him.

"What do you mean?" you ask.

"Nothing." he gets up suddenly. "I'll finish what I started." Felix adds, not looking at you as he sits back at your table and continues working.

You can feel the shift in the air, the atmosphere becoming heavier than before and you sigh as you stare at his back.

You get back to studying, trying to ignore the weird feeling stirring in your stomach.

"I'm done." Felix announces after some time and you stand up slowly, making your way to him. "Do you want me to install Windows and stuff?"

"If you don't mind. I mean, not that I can't do it, it's just since you're here, you know..." you start babbling nervously and Felix chuckles.

"Relax, dove." he says with a smirk.

"I'm relaxed." you quip.

"Sure you are." he nods, his lips pursed.

You wonder what it would be like to kiss them.

What is wrong with you? You hate Felix, you think, mentally slapping yourself.

"Okay, it'll take some time to install." he leans back in your chair, his legs spread and just then you notice the sweatpants he's wearing and how they look kind of tight.

And how you can kind of see the outline of him.

"Want something? Just ask." Felix snaps you out of your thoughts.

Oh my god, you panic. You were openly staring at his dick.

He's wearing that shit eating grin on his face as yours becomes red.

"N-no." your throat is dry suddenly.

"Did I do good?" he leans towards you suddenly, making you jolt and almost trip backwards, the back of your thighs hitting the table behind you.

He smirks up at you as your cardigan slides off your shoulder, giving him a better view of your tits in the flimsy top you had on.

"I- yes. I think." you try hard to remain normal but nothing is normal about Felix standing up and trapping you between the table and his body, as his palms lay flat on the wooden surface and you gulp.

"Now you gotta help me, dove." he says, his eyes traveling from yours to your lips.

He looks as if he wants to devour you and you feel like your entire being is on fire when he's close to you like that, the warmth of his body radiating onto yours.

"W-what do you want?" you try to sound normal, but your words come out shaky.

Felix smirks proudly, knowing the effect he has on you.

"You." he answers simply and you sputter a little.

"Excuse me?" you look at him with your eyes wide.

"I want you." he repeats, his face serious, his dark eyes seem even darker, filled with lust and your knees buckle a little.

"You're crazy if you think-"

"Just one kiss. And if you hate it, I'll stop bothering you." he smirks.

"You're insufferable." your heart beats fast, your core throbbing as you feel your arousal drip on your panties.

"So you've told me, dove." he whispers, his lips dangerously close to yours.

"Fine. One kiss." you give in and before you can even utter anything else, his lips are on yours.

It's not what you imagined, you thought he'd kiss you hungrily and sloppily, but his kiss feels more desperate and slow, like he's been living and waiting just for this moment, just to have you under his spell.

You know everything about him, or you think you do, you know he's just a fuckboy, and you're the same as those other girls who fell under his charm but his lips are so addicting.

You're cursing yourself on the inside but you can't stop kissing him, your arms wrapping around his shoulders, your hand on the back of his neck, fingertips tangled in his dark hair.

Felix responds with a quiet hum, his hands flying to your waist as he presses himself into you and you gasp, giving him the opportunity to push his tongue inside your mouth.

He tastes like chocolate and cigarettes, like Felix.

You can't believe you're letting your sworn enemy kiss you.

His tongue explores your mouth, savoring the way you taste and swallowing the little moans you make as you pull at his hair.

Felix whines into you, biting on your lower lip before releasing it and leaning back.

His eyes are filled with lust and you're sure that you mirror his gaze.

"I take it you enjoyed that." Felix's voice is even more deep and husky as he observes your perky nipples poking against your flimsy top and your thighs subtly rubbing together.

His hands slide down to grab at your ass and you squeak, jolting and grabbing onto his arms.

"I- I..." you try to come up with some kind of witty answer but all that's running through your mind is letting Felix have his way with you.

You feel his hard cock pressing into you and he chuckles deeply when he realizes you have nothing to say.

"Cat got your tongue, baby?" he smirks, puffing his chest out and it runs right through you and lands into your core, more arousal pooling on your already soaked panties.

"You want more?" he asks as your lips tremble.

"Y-yeah." you say weakly, angry at yourself for being like this but at this point you were ready to throw everything out the window just for him.

You guess that he was just that good, and every girl fell for his charm and let him take her, and now you're going to be just another number on his list.

"Ask nicely, dove." his hand wraps around your neck and you gasp a little, leaning into his touch.

"P-please, more." your voice is almost unrecognizable and Felix laughs before grabbing you and turning you around quickly, his hand pushed into your upper back, making your front collide with the table.

You whimper as he slides off your cardigan, tossing it aside and pressing his middle into your ass hard.

"You're so sweet, my dove. Such a good girl." he holds you down, his other hand caressing your ass as he grinds into you slowly.

"Oh - shut up." you groan, feeling frustrated and needy.

"Don't be a brat." he warns with a little pinch on your flesh.

"Or what?" you challenge and he lets out a low chuckle before hooking his fingers in your shorts and pulling them down quickly, leaving you just in your panties, white with little pink flowers and he groans at the sight.

"So cute." he says and without warning his hand collides with your flesh as he gives your ass a hard smack.

"Ah! Felix!" you grip at the table, your eyes wide.

"Yeah, dove. Yeah. Say my name." he smacks you again and you wiggle, trying to move away.

"I warned you." he holds you down, pressed against the table. "Just be a good girl and take what I give you." he adds, landing another smack on your ass before his fingers slide on the wet patch on your panties.

"A-ah!" you whine as he plays with you.

"All this for me? I thought you hated me." he smirks.

"I- I do." you pant as he slides his fingers into your underwear, touching your wet lips and dipping his fingertips into your hole.

"She loves me though." Felix whispers as he leans over you, his fingers pressed into your clit.

"Oh-" you moan, jolting back into him.

"I bet she will love taking my cock even more." he adds and you whine, your brain turning into mush the more he teases you and talks to you like that.

"Mm." you hear him moan and look up at him just to see him licking at his fingers that were just on your pussy.

"F-Felix..." you moan, wanting him, needing him closer to you.

"Tell me what you want, dove." his hands slide on your thighs, ass and lower back and every touch feels like he's setting your skin on fire.

"B-bed." you whimper as he runs his fingers over your panties again.

"I thought you didn't want me on your bed."

The bastard.

"Please. Please." you beg, wiggling your ass and pushing it into his pelvis, trying to persuade him to stop teasing.

"If you insist." he smirks and picks you up so fast that you barely registered he got you in his arms as he laid you down on your soft blanket.

You turned to your plushies, feeling a bit weirded out as you reached out to move them.

"Let them watch." Felix chuckles with a smirk and you look at him, letting out a small giggle.

"Alright." you shrug and he wastes no time as he slides his tanktop off and you very obviously drool at the sight of his abs and nipples.

"See something you fancy?" he teases.

"Yes." you nod and he laughs.

"You're gonna love this even more." he says, taking his pants off and of course, he wasn't wearing any underwear, the fucking whore of a man.

His cock is hard and it springs out, smacking against his abs, all wet with pre cum and ready to be inside you.

"You're drooling, baby." Felix says, almost in a mocking tone.

"Am not." you quickly answer.

"Mhm." the shit eating grin is back as he puts his hands on your waist and slides your top up, taking it off.

"Wow." he stares at your breasts and you chuckle breathlessly.

"See something you fancy?" you tease him back and he throws his head back in a fit of laughter.

"Definitely." Felix bites his lower lip as his hands grab at your tits, massaging them and playing with your nipples, pinching them and pulling on them before he leans down and starts leaving kisses on your breasts.

You whine, needing more friction, your middle lifting up towards his, where his cock hangs delicious and heavy.

Felix smirks as he sucks on your nipple, swirling his tongue around the bud, his hands sliding your panties off as he throws them to the side.

The tip of his cock presses on your clit and both of you whine as he detaches from your nipple and looks down, taking his length in his hand and sliding it against your wet folds.

"Hey don't- not yet-" you shiver and he shushes you.

"Don't worry, I'll put on a condom." he reassures you before diving down to leave kisses on your hot skin.

He gets up suddenly, picking his pants off the floor and taking out a condom and you roll your eyes at him.

"What?" he rips open the packet as he looks at you.

"You came prepared." you say as he kneels between your legs.

"I'm always prepared." he smirks as he rolls the rubber on his cock.

Is it too late to back out now?, you think as his fingertips dance on your inner thighs before settling between your legs and playing with your folds.

You can't believe you're about to let Lee Felix fuck you.

You fell for it after all, you whine as he slowly pushes two of his fingers in, your pussy sucking them in like she was hungry for him.

"I don't think you even need to be prepped." he smirks, sliding his fingers in your warmth. "You're taking me so well already."

You can only moan at his words, arching into his hand.

He keeps smirking, fucking his fingers in and out of you as slow as humanly possible, driving you insane with frustration.

"Oh my god, Felix just fuck me!" you thrash against the soft blanket and he laughs, the jerk.

"Beg for it." he grins, sliding his fingers out and your pussy clenches around nothing.

"You're an asshole." you whimper and he raises his brow at you.

"Am I?" Uh oh. The look in his eyes becomes darker.

"Let me show you then. How much of an asshole I am." he mutters before gripping your body and swiftly turning you around, his hand on the back of your neck as he pushes your face into the pillow.

You gasp as he smacks your ass, your hands grabbing at the blanket.

He grips your hip and without warning pushes his length inside you making you moan loudly as he bottoms out.

The stretch is painful at first but your body is burning up for him and as he fits himself inside you, you clench around him, the pain turning into pleasure.

"See how she fucking loves me? She's trying to keep me in." he chuckles behind you and you whine, pushing back into him.

"Please, fuck me Felix."

He laughs as he gathers your hair in his hand, holding it in a makeshift ponytail.

"See, you can be so nice. You just need someone who knows how to put you in your place." he leans down to whisper in your ear, his lips brushing against your skin before he leans back.

Before you can even catch a breath, Felix pulls your head back harshly and sets a brutal pace, fucking into you fast, the sounds of skin slapping skin loud as he rattles your body with his.

"Yeah. Take it. That's it." he spanks you as he bullies his cock deep inside you, the tip kissing your cervix with every brutal thrust.

You can't even speak as you hold onto the pillow for dear life, a string of moans and curses spilling from your lips.

You're already close and you feel so embarassed because you've never been fucked so good that you're close to cumming in a mere minute.

Your legs shake as Felix continues his onslaught, both with his unforgiving hips and his hand smacking your ass, leaving red marks on your flesh, his other hand pulling your head so far back that you feel like you can't breathe properly.

"Cum for me, dove." he smirks as he feels you clenching hard around him.

"Y-yes, Felix, ah!" you manage to whimper as you explode all over his cock, coating him in your juices.

"That's what I like to see. Good girl." he continues fucking you and tears gather in your eyes as waves of pleasure keep running through your body.

"No one ever fucked you right, hm?" he snickers at the state of you. "Don't worry dove. I'll make sure you can never cum from any other dick except mine." he adds and fucks you even harder, which you thought was impossible but he manages to knock all the breath you had in your lungs and make you cum once again.

"Shit!" his hips stutter and he pulls out quickly.

"Come here." he almost growls as he rips off the condom.

You turn around on all fours, dizzy and ears ringing, your body still shaking as your pussy leaks.

"Open your mouth." he orders and you stupidly obey, too fucked out to protest.

Felix shoves his cock into your mouth, making you gag as you choke on his length.

"You're gonna take it all." he fucks into you a few times before he explodes, pushing deep into you and making you swallow everything.

"Shit." he whines as he pulls out and you cough a little.

"Are you okay?" Felix asks as you sit up, his hand reaching out to touch your cheek and you look at him like he has three heads.

"Why do you care? I know I'm just a number on your list now so you can drop the act and leave." your eyes water for some reason and Felix frowns.

"Why don't you first tell me what you heard about me, dove?" he comes closer to you even though you try to push him away.

"That you slept with half the campus and ghosted every girl you fucked." you say bitterly and he has the audacity to laugh.

"What's funny?" you spit, anger bubbling up inside you.

"You really believe everything you hear? It's just a story, y/n. I did not in fact fuck half the campus." Felix continues giggling. "I'm kinda flattered people think I can pull that many girls, though." he adds, shaking his head.

"Oh." you're flabbergasted for a moment.

"I only have eyes for one girl." he says, his hand caressing your cheek and you cough, choking on your spit.

"W-what?" you ask, still not processing what he's telling you.

"It's you, dove. Why did you think I flirted with you?"

"I thought you did that with everyone."

"Oh, you are so wrong and I'm gonna prove it to you. Starting with a date tomorrow?" Felix says and you're still sitting in disbelief.

"Don't look so shocked." he chuckles and leans in, kissing you gently, his arms wrapping around you as he lays you down again.

"Are you serious?" you ask.

"Dead serious." he presses his lips on your cheek.

"Alright. We can go on a date. You're still insufferable, though." you smirk at him and Felix laughs, his sincere laughter making you giggle too.

As he cuddled up against you, your bed a mess after your fun activities, half of your plushies forgotten on the floor, you're glad you had to ask him to help you.

"I think your Windows finished installing."

✨Taglist: @moonchild9350 @janepg @velvetmoonlght @hwanghyunjinismybae @jehhskz @laylasbunbunny @jeonginslefthand @porangporangmeong @laughatdanger @sapphirewaves @simpforleeknaur @s3ungm1nxxl0ve @painterhyunjin @starlost-mochi-x @saintcosette @ooshyana

@lixies-favorite-cookie not me hearing your thoughts about fuckboy lix🤭

[klara-nya]

Echo's here! His robotic parts were a little tricky but I managed lol. I know he's waaaaay paler in the series but he deserves the melanin so I just made him a little bit less saturated than the rest of the clones (look at those scars, he has enough with those, he doesn't need to look like a corpse too).

+ mini comic below!

The mental image of cat Echo angrily grooming the rest of the Batch was hilarious to me. The fact that IT IS CANON their room is such a mess that Echo can't stand the smell just kills me everytime I remember it lol I just love his Tired Mom™ vibes even if he is as chaotic as the rest <3

More Star Wars cats: Hunter, Crosshair, Tech, Wrecker, Disaster Lineage, Clones.

Ahsoka fanart here!

[wildflowerhuggy]

Just a dream // OP81

| pairing: oscar piastri x reader

| summary: reader has a bad dream that oscar gets hurt and goes to him for comfort

| warnings: reader is implied female, use of y/n(i rlly tried not to i swear)

| authors note: wrote this instead of studying for a final :D

You're standing in the garage, your heart pounding in your chest as the roar of the engines reverberates through the air. Oscar's car zooms past in a blur of papaya and black. Everything is perfectly normal until it isn't. Taken over by an uncontrollable lockup, the car suddenly veers, tires squealing against the asphalt as it careens off track. Time suddenly moves in slow motion. You watch in horror, unable to move, as the car flips, the sound of metal crunching and the smell of burnt rubber filling the air. You're screaming his name, but no sound leaves your mouth. The world tilts on its axis as you hear them announce a red flag and medics storm the accident scene. You can't move, your body frozen in place. And worst of all, you know you can't reach him.

You wake up with a gasp, chest heaving as if you've just run a marathon, tears streaming down your face and hands trembling as you clutch the blankets around you. The guest room in Oscars Monaco apartment is dark, the faint glow of the moon streaming in through the curtains your only light source. But the feeling of the nightmare lingers, both vivid and suffocating.

You squeeze your eyes shut, willing the images to fade, but they don't. All you can see is the mangled car and the unbearable thought of losing Oscar. Your heart aches, feeling as though it's just been ripped out and stomped on, panic still fresh and raw. You need to see him, reassure yourself he's okay, even if you know it was just a nightmare.

Before you can second guess your movements, you're throwing the duvet off yourself and padding quietly down the hall to his room. You've been best friends with Oscar since you could walk, since the days of sharing snacks and playing hopscotch, even his move to the UK couldn't sever your bond. Staying at his place in Monaco felt natural, as did staying at his place in London, it felt like slipping back into the comfortable rhythm of sleepovers from when your were just a couple of little kids, but after that dream comfort was the last thing you were feeling.

His bedroom door is slightly ajar (something he insists on doing in case you need him, to which you always laughed at until tonight) and you push it open gently, trying not to make a sound. The room is dim, lit only by the same moonlight that was filtering in through the curtains in the guest room. Oscar's sleeping form was a shadow under a pile of blankets, his steady breathing a stark contrast to your own racing heart. Just seeing him alive and at peace and, most of all, safe eases some of the tension you were feeling in your chest.

But as you take a step closer, the floor betrays you by creaking, the noise disrupting his steady breathing.

"y/n?" his voice is laced with sleep and groggy but it's more than enough to break the dam that was previously holding back your tears.

"I..." your voice cracks, and you quickly scrub at your faces trying to stop the tears but it's to no avail. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you, this was stupid." you rapidly apologize.

He sits up at this, covers falling to lay across his hips, "Hey, hey, hey, no I promise it's not stupid." he coos, his concerned tone tugging at your heartstrings, "what's wrong?"

You hesitate, still feeling ridiculous, even more so with his attention directly on you. But the nightmares grip on you still hasn't loosened. "I had a nightmare," you admitted, voice quiet. "I just... I just needed to make sure you were okay."

Oscars expression softens, scooting over patting the empty space beside him, "Oh love, come here."

Trying to ignore how the name made your heart skip in the best of ways, you slowly make your way toward his bed. slipping under the covers hesitantly, but being encouraged by his soft gaze.

The warmth of his body and duvet surrounds you and the familiar scent of him fills you with a comforting warmth. Oscar shifts closer, his arm draping over your shoulders as you pulls you into his chest.

"It's okay," he murmurs into the crown of your head, "It was just a dream."

You nod against his chest, focusing on the steady rhythm of his heart. It's grounding, acting as a reminder that he's here and safe. "It felt so real," you whisper into his chest, "I saw you crash, and I couldn't do anything, I was stuck. I thought... I thought I lost you."

His hold on you tightens, and you hear him suck in a sharp breath while resting his chin atop your head, "I'm not going anywhere, I promise," he says firmly.

For a while, neither of you speaks. The soft sounds of the city outside and the rustle of sheets the only sounds filling the silence. The two of you just enjoying the warmth of each other. Slowly but surely, the pain in your chest ebbs, replaced with a new anxious feeling—one that you've been feeling for years but never brought up.

"Osc?" you say softly, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes.

"Yeah?" his eyes filled with warmth, focused on you and you only.

You take a shaky breath, heart pounding for a reason entirely different from when you first stepped in here. "I don't know what I would do without you," you admit softly, "You mean so much to me."

His gaze searches yours, and for a moment you begin to panic that you've said too much, but then his hand comes up to gently cup your cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray tear that was on your cheek. "You mean everything to me," he says, voice barely above a whisper.

Your breath catches as he leans in close, lips capturing yours in a kiss that begins as soft and gentle. as if he's testing the waters but deepens as he feels you respond, fingers threading through his soft hair, years of unspoken feelings between the two of you spilling out.

When you finally pull apart, you're both breathless, eyes sparkling. He presses his forehead against yours, a small, youthful and disbelieving smile on his lips. "You've got no idea how long I've wanted to do that." he admits.

"I think I do," you giggle, pulling him in for another quick kiss that becomes not so quick.

He finally pulls back again, shifting to pull you tight to his chest as you nuzzle into his neck, "We should get some sleep," he says, "I'm okay and I'm right here with you. I promise," he eases your lingering fears without you even having to ask.

And for the first time that night, you feel safe. Laying there with his arms tightly wrapped around you, the steady beat of his heart beneath you, and him pressing a soft kiss against your head, the nightmare feels like a distant memory. You close your eyes with a smile on your lips as you drift off, comforted by the fact that you know he's safe and that he's now yours.

[nanamis-baker]

"Not so Breakable, huh?"

Summary: You went on a mission without informing anyone, and well, Gojo is mad.

Content: 18+ mdni, Angry/Makeup sex, unprotected sex, edging, overstimulation, Gojo's blindfold being used, choking, oral, and other stuff!

Word Count: 6.4k

a/n: I've been itching to write this for AGES, and now I finally had the time to do so! I can't wait for you to enjoy it! 🤍

Satoru's voice echoed through the room - not a shout, but a guttural roar. "How could you be so reckless?!" The words reverberated off the walls, shaking the very ground you were standing on. You stood toe-to-toe with him, nostrils flaring, your defiance burning in your eyes.

"Me? Reckless?" you shot back, mirroring his volume. "Satoru, it was my. mission!" Each word was punctuated with a jab of your finger towards him, desperate to break through his wall of anger. You waved your arms wildly towards your body, “Besides, I am not even hurt!”

You could feel the icy intensity of Satoru's eyes burning into you, even though his blindfold covered them. Not just anger, but a raw possession radiated from him. His rapid breath seemed to be laced with physical manifestation of his fury and worry, and a surge of curse energy crackled in the air between you.

He didn't respond to your words. Instead, he moved towards you. Each menacing step Satoru took sent a tremor through the room, causing you to step back. The floorboards groaned under his weight, the sound similar to terrified whimpers.

The air buzzed with emotions that transcended simple anger. It was raw, primal, and laced with something you couldn't quite define. His powerful frame loomed over you, blocking out the warm glow of the living room light, casting his shadow over you. You stepped back, your feet coming to a halt when you felt the cold wall brush against your back.

When he stopped just a hair's breadth away, your breath hitched. You could smell the faint, familiar scent of his cologne and something else - something musky. You both stood frozen, locked in a silent battle of wills.

The tension in the air was so thick it felt like suffocation. He moved his arms, caging you between his muscular chest and the rough wall. You were trapped, not just by physical force, but by the intensity radiating from his very being.

"You went on a damn mission alone without even informing anyone!" His voice was a low growl against your ear, a storm brewing beneath the surface. It wasn’t just anger in his words - his words were laced with a raw, dominating edge that sent shivers erupting all over your body.

"A dsmn special grade mission, for God's sake!" he roared, the words a physical blow that vibrated through your chest.

This was impossible. Dealing with a special-grade cursed spirit solo was reckless, yes. You knew that. But Satoru was being overly protective. You were a grade-one sorcerer, trained to handle such threats. You weren't a fragile doll he could keep locked away.

Fury burned in your eyes, a mirror image of his own. You shook your head, defiance hardening your features until your jaw ached. Your fists clenched so tight your nails dug into your palms, drawing a bead of blood that you just ignored.

"The mission was an emergency," you spat, your voice barely above a whisper despite the roiling anger within you. "And I am not as breakable as you think  –"

"Cut the bullshit!" he snarled, cutting you off with brutality. His voice had dropped to a dangerous purr, sending a shiver down your spine that wasn't entirely from anger.

"I care only about the fact that you went ahead with it without even telling me," he continued, his voice low and dangerous. He was so close, you could feel his lips brushing against yours as he spoke.

The air between you pulsed with a raw, electric current, drawing your bodies closer despite the anger simmering between you.

You opened your mouth to argue, but the words wouldn't come. This was ridiculous. Satoru was being ridiculous. There was no way to escape his dominance, or was there?

Suddenly, in a move fueled by a mix of anger and a desperate need to assert yourself, you did something unexpected. You reached up and cupped the back of Satoru’s neck in your hands, tilting his head down to meet yours.

The kiss that followed wasn't a gentle one - a lover’s kiss. It was a clash of wills disguised as intimacy, fueled by your anger. Pouring your emotions into the kiss, you tried to communicate what he wasn’t willing to understand. You grabbed the front of his shirt, the fabric crumpling in your fist as you yanked him closer. Your lips met his in a battle for control, a fierce collision that sparked something electrifying within you.

There was a desperate need inside you - a simmering desire for something more that you were very familiar with.

Despite his initial shock, Satoru returned the kiss with equal fervour. His hands, previously braced against the wall, reached for you with a possessive hunger. One hand slid down your back, tracing the curve of your spine with a searing touch that made your head tilt up, deepening the kiss. The other hand cupped your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek, a silent demand for submission.

But you wouldn't submit. Not now, not entirely. You met his force with your own, pushing back against his kiss, your tongue a weapon mirroring the fierce need you felt deep in your core. A low growl rumbled from Satoru’s chest, a sound both primal and urgent.

The tension in the air changed and became something far more dangerous, fueled by your cursed energy and frustration. The kiss became a dance, a push and pull for control. Satoru deepened the kiss, stealing your breath away and weakening your resistance. You fought back, nipping at his lower lip, drawing a gasp from him. The taste of blood, metallic and sharp, ignited a new kind of heat between you, a heady mix of aggression and need.

The room faded away, replaced by the urgency of the moment. You were lost in the kiss, consumed by the raw emotions swirling between you. It was a fight, a dance, a desperate yearning all rolled into one. And as the kiss deepened, as both your anger and your desire reached a feverish pitch, you broke away, gasping for breath.

You looked at Satoru, taking in the rapid rise and fall of his chest against your fist. A beat of heavy silence stretched between you before Satoru spoke, his voice a husky rasp.

"Not so breakable, huh?" he murmured, repeating your words, his voice laced with a dangerous edge. It wasn't a question, but a statement accompanied by a hint of amusement. A slow smile spread across his face, causing the hair on your arms to rise up.

He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear, caressing the shell. "How about we put that to a test?" he whispered, the words soft like the calm before the storm.

With that, he threw you over his shoulders effortlessly, his strength leaving you breathless. A gasp escaped your lips, both from the sudden movement and the unspoken challenge hanging in the air.

Satoru’s hands caressed the back of your thighs, massaging the muscles as he made his way towards the bedroom. The touch almost felt like an apology as anticipation filled the air. 

Not even bothering to turn the lights on, he roughly tossed you onto the bed, with your back pressed against the cool sheets. His eyes were blindfolded, yet you could clearly picture the storm brewing in his cerulean eyes.

"Show me you mean it, then," you said breathlessly, your voice laced with challenge.

A slow smirk spread across Satoru's face, a hint of danger flickering in his voice as he replied, "Careful what you wish for, darling." Without wasting another moment, he was on top of you. The weight of his body was a powerful press that pushed you to the bed.

His hand gripped the back of your neck with a rough urgency before his lips met yours again, finishing what you started in the living room. Your hand tangled in his hair, pulling at the roots, the soft fabric of his blindfold a frustrating caress against your fingertips. Your other hand reached for his back, nails digging into the hard muscles as they travelled down, pulling him impossibility close, the heat of his body mirroring the fire burning in your core. Your fingers brushed against the hem of his shirt, slipping inside his shirt before lifting it up. You craved to feel his skin against yours

But Satoru was quicker. He grabbed your hand by your wrist, long fingers curling around it before pinning it to the mattress beside your head, keeping your hand in place. His touch was electrifying, a mix of frustration and raw awareness.

"Take it off," you mumbled against his lips, the command laced with barely contained anger. Satoru pulled back a fraction, his lips hovering a tantalising distance from yours. A slow smile played on his lips, his voice a husky purr. "So eager, huh?"

He didn't wait for a reply. Instead, his lips trailed down your jaw, his lips peppering wet kisses along the bone. A searing kiss landed on the pulse point at your neck, the heat of his breath igniting a fire within you. You moaned - a sound that was desperate for more, much more.

Satoru chuckled at your frustration, the sound clinging to your skin. He rained kisses down your neck and chest, moving your shirt away to trace the length of your collarbone. His teeth brushed against it, before he sucked hard, his teeth sharp against your skin, leaving his mark.

He went on, his lips moving with a slow, deliberate purpose over the barrier of your clothes. Each kiss felt like a tease, a promise of what was to come. His free hand slipped under your shirt, the fabric bunching beneath his touch, a flimsy obstacle that only heightened your growing desire.

"These are getting in the way," he murmured against your skin, referring to your shirt. His hands, strong and sure, began a slow exploration beneath the fabric, sending sparks flying wherever they touched. You arched your back into him, a whimper escaping your lips as he brushed against a particularly sensitive spot.

The frustration was a delicious torture. You wanted him to rip the clothes away, to feel his bare skin against yours. But a strange pleasure arose from this slow, deliberate undressing. It was a battle of dominance, and for now, Satoru was the victor.

With a sigh that was half frustration, half surrender, you let your head fall back to the mattress. You knew you wouldn't win this fight, and in truth, a part of you didn't entirely want to.

Your shirt was bunched above your chest as Satoru worked off your bra, his fingers reaching behind your back to unclasp the material before sliding the straps off your shoulder. Cold air hit your bare chest as you felt a tightening sensation, your nipples pebbling up.

Satoru’s fingers danced over your buds, the touch feather- like, causing a soft whimper to escape your lips, a sound you couldn't quite control. He smirked at your desperation, “what is it, love?” He asked, “Want more than this?” as if to show what you could get, he pinched your nipple, causing a sharp gasp to leave your mouth.

“Fuck - Satoru I -” A strangled gasp escaped your lips as Satoru's lips brushed against your nipple, a whisper of heat that sent shivers down your spine. Then, teeth scraped against the sensitive peak, before he left a sharp bite on the skin. His tongue darted out - a wet caress soothing the sting. It was a delicious ache, a thrilling sensation that left you breathless.

He moved down your chest, savouring every inch of your body. Each nip, each suckle, left a raw ache in its wake, a desperate yearning blooming within you. You wanted more - more of this intense, bordering-on-painful pleasure that pushed you to the edge.

"Satoru," you gasped, your voice breathless - thick with desire and a hint of something darker. "Don't stop." The words were a plea, as you arched your back - an attempt to get more of this sensation - more of him.

“Don't worry, love” he said, before leaving a kiss right over his mark on your chest, “The night is still young.” Pain and pleasure clouded your senses, and by the time Satoru was done, your chest felt raw and so sensitive. 

The world narrowed down to Satoru; the feel of his lips against your skin as he left a hungry trail down your body, devouring every inch of your exposed flesh till he reached the waistband of your pants. You felt a tug at the fabric, your eyes widening as you realised his intentions.

"Wait!" you gasped, the word barely escaping your lips before there was a sharp rip. The sound echoed in the tense silence as Satoru tore your pants down the seam in a single, swift motion before removing the material and discarding it.

Heat flooded your face, a mix of fury and something else entirely. You opened your mouth to protest, but Satoru cut you off.

"Don't worry, love," he murmured against your thigh, before nipping at the skin of your inner thigh, "I'll get you something new. Hated them anyways."

Before you could even process his words, Satoru's strong hands parted your legs, settling between them. His hot breath brushed against your stomach as one of his hands wrapped around your thigh, keeping it open.

He didn't waste time. With a swift movement, he pushed your panties aside, his lips replacing the cool, wet fabric. The sudden shift in sensation was electrifying. A gasp ripped from your throat, a sound that mingled with a desperate moan. "Fuck, ‘Toru," you breathed, your voice thick with desire and a touch of surrender under his touch. Your hips instinctively bucked upward, seeking a deeper connection with his touch.

You could feel the smugness radiate from him. “Eager, are we?” He asked, before his tongue darted out and slowly traced the length of your slit, gathering your wetness, leaving a trail of saliva. Satoru then focused on your clit, sucking and licking, sometimes even biting it while his fingers teased your entrance, drawing agonising circles around it. 

Your eyes squeezed shut, a throaty moan leaving your chest. You knew Satoru was just getting started, but it already felt so intense - you could feel your orgasm building.

He continued this, but the pressure kept changing. Sometimes it was just a tender touch - a feather-light brush of his lips. The other times it was a hard, deliberate suck on your clit, his teeth nipping at your most sensitive spot. It was hot and cold, frustrating and maddening.

Your hands fisted the bed sheet by your head, the force enough to rip the expensive fabric.

Just as your core clenched, the first tremors of release building, Satoru's focus shifted. His mouth focused on your entrance as Satoru stiffened his tongue before plunging into you. His thumb tracing light, small circles over your clit, the touch a fleeting brush - never giving you what you wanted, but showing you what it could be. Testing you, testing how far you’d go before you broke. It was a constant reminder of what you craved just out of reach.

Your hands snaked down your body, a desperate attempt to claim the pleasure that danced just out of reach. Your fingers twitched towards your clit. But before you could find solace, Satoru's grip tightened on your wrist. He yanked your hand back, pinning it against your stomach. 

Satoru pulled back a little, blowing softly on your clit, the cool air a world away from the heat you felt, giving rise to goosebumps all over your skin. He left a soft kiss on your inner thigh as his finger continued their torturous dance over your heated skin.

Your toes curled and dug into his clothed back, urging him closer - to do something more, but Satoru wasn’t deterred. He kept teasing you, keeping you balanced on the knife’s edge.

Your senses were overloaded, the feathery touch of Satoru’s fingers on your skin so different from the firestorm building within. His silky hair brushed against your inner thigh, the ticklish sensation enhancing your pleasure. You arched your back, trying to escape the delicious agony, but Satoru kept you in place, his muscular arms tightening around your thigh.

"Satoru!" you gasped, your voice a desperate plea laced with a hint of something wilder. A single, sharp moan ripped through your throat, held back by a dam of rising pleasure that threatened to burst. You were close - so close.

Your hand, shaking with a strong need for release, reached out and tangled itself in his hair, your grip tight. You knew it would hurt - it had to. "What are you trying to do?" you hissed, the words laced with a breathless urgency.

Satoru pulled back, his lips brushing against your inner thigh, caressing it, “Patience love,” he said softly. “I am trying to show you something here.” with that, he left one final kiss on your clit before he started pulling away.

Your heels dug into his back, to prevent him from pulling back, but Satoru just pulled himself back, letting go of your hand before grabbing your ankles, pulling you down until you were teetering on the edge of the bed, your breath catching in your throat.

You pushed yourself up on your elbows, your clit throbbing, so desperate for a release. But before you could do anything, your eyes darted to the man in front of you. Moonlight glinted off his face, highlighting the wet glossiness on his lips. His hair, a tangled mess mirroring the tangled emotions between you, obscured the blindfold that had slipped a little. Despite the anger, despite the unresolved words, a raw truth hung in the air. He looked beautiful, even when he was a mess.

Satoru reached for your shirt that was bunched up over your chest. He pulled it over your shoulder, the soft fabric scraping against your burning skin. With ease, he manoeuvred your arms behind your back, before he took the discarded fabric and wrapped it around your wrists, twisting the fabric with cruel efficiency, transforming it into a makeshift handcuff.

A new wave of heat flooded in your core, accompanied by shock and a new challenge. "Oh really, Satoru?" you hissed, lifting your head to look at his face. “Did I intimidate you so much you had to tie me up?”

Satoru's grin promised both danger and exquisite pleasure. His hands moved to lift the blindfold, revealing eyes that encased a storm. The moonlight glinted off the sapphire irises, causing them to glow, but it was the rim around them, a ring of raw, unbridled desire, that stole your breath. It spoke of a hunger that mirrored your own, a hunger that was far greater than the anger simmering between you.

Somehow, in that single, electrifying moment, Satoru looked more dangerous and more tempting than ever before. His eyes invited you to fly too close to the sun- an invitation to a dance on the edge of control, and you were ready to take flight.

After the blindfold came off, he leaned down, his lips brushing against your earlobe as he whispered, “Oh love, you will not just be tied up.” With that, he lifted his blindfold over your head before lowering it down, covering your entire world in pitch darkness.

The sudden absence of light intensified the heat radiating from Satoru's body, his every breath a ragged whisper against your ear. You could feel him move away - the heat of his body disappearing, before he settled down on the bed beside you. 

His hands were on your thighs, pulling you so that you were straddling his lap, the strong muscles of his thigh hard against your sensitive skin. His hands were on your back, caressing the curve of your spine, his nails dug into your skin. A gasp escapes your lips - a mixture of pain and arousal - as wetness flooded between your legs. You were sure your back had the crescent shape of his nails branded into it. 

“You want to cum right?” he asked, as if he wasn’t painfully aware of your needs. 

You kept your mouth shut - not giving him the satisfaction he craved, but the tremble of your body against his - desperate for a release - gave away enough. “Ride me, darling.” he murmured, “Take whatever you need.” The words were a taunt - a challenge - one you were willing to take.

With that, he settled back, leaving you to do what you pleased; well, it wasn’t like you could do much. You settled yourself against the bulge of his pants, hissing as it rubbed against your throbbing core, the texture of his pants feeling oddly smooth. But you paid it no mind as you began rocking your hips back and forth, reigniting the flames in your core.

Your back arched, your head tilted back and you moved your hips against him, throaty, deep moans leaving your lips. Yet, something was different - weird even. You have done this countless times in the past, yet why was it so different this time? 

Your fingers itched again to toy with your clit - to get the friction you craved, but there was nothing you could do.

Frustration gnawed at your senses, reaching its peak when you could feel nothing, even as you increased your pace. Your thighs burned with exertion.

Satoru's hands were a constant presence on your back, tracing a lazy path over the length of your back. A sharp sting on your nipple jolted you; Satoru had pinched it - hard - you realised. “What is it, love?” Satoru asked, his voice dripping with mock innocence. “You seem to be having some trouble, hmm?”

You could see nothing, yet you could feel Satoru's eyes on you as a frustrated whimper escaped your lips. He was enjoying this - enjoying every damn second of your desperation.

“Satoru you-” just then it dawned on you. Why it felt as if you were riding nothing - why it had no texture, no form - because it was nothing, it was just emptiness.

Satoru was making you ride his infinity.

Your eyes widened behind the blindfold, a strangled cry erupting from your throat at the realisation. He was doing it on purpose - of course he was! Getting you worked up and needy, begging for him.

 The world was a frustrating blur of darkness and incomplete sensation. The phantom friction only amplified your desire, making you squirm against the sensation.

Satoru reached out, trailing his fingers down your folds, a slow, deliberate path that sent shivers down your bound arms. Every brush sent a wave of pleasure straight to your core, a promise of release dangerously close. But then, he'd withdraw, leaving you burning with a frustrated heat - Satoru's touch was a cruel tease, determined to push you over your limit.

"So close, aren't we, love?" he gently kissed your cheek, the touch as soft as a butterfly’s flutter. You could practically feel the smirk playing on his lips against your cheek.

"Satoru," you growled, the warning clear in your voice.

He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that vibrated through you. "Feeling impatient, hm?" he cooed, his fingers brushing your inner thigh with a whispering touch, causing you to hiss and pull back slightly, but Satoru’s strong hands stopped you. 

“You should look at yourself right now,” he breathed against your neck, his words dripping with amusement as he described what you were unable to see. “Looking so pretty like this, riding nothing but air,” He sucked on your pulse, drawing a gasp out of you. “Making a mess all over me.” his fingers brushed against your core again, as if to prove his point.

Just after those words left his mouth, Satoru flipped you over so that you were on the bed with him on top. Without any warning, his fingers plunged into you and you groaned - finally, you could feel something - something tangible.

Satoru’s long fingers pumped inside you, his thumb drawing tight circles on your clit. Your wetness immediately coated his fingers. His fingers curled and twisted, the movement promising an intense release. Your breath came in short pants as Satoru quickened his pace, adding another finger inside you, stretching your walls. Your back arched to give him better access, encouraging him to go deeper.

“Fuck, Satoru, don’t hold back,” you panted, knowing he needed a little push. “Oh, not even planning to,” Satoru replied, twisting his fingers inside you, brushing against all your stops, the pressure delicious against your muscles. 

Your impending orgasm finally greeted you, igniting every cell in your body in its wake. You were screaming or crying - you didn’t know, as Satoru continued pumping his fingers into you, elongating your release.

But he didn’t stop once you were done. Satoru pumped his fingers inside you as he increased the pressure on your sensitive clit, bringing you so close to another intense orgasm. Your eyes rolled back into your head behind the blindfold. Your legs shook, your bound fists clenched behind your back as another wave of pleasure took over you, chants of Satoru’s name leaving your lips.

He went on, his fingers gliding in and out effortlessly. HIs long, slender fingers sent shivers down your spine with each deliberate stroke. Lost in a haze of pleasure, breathless whimpers and groans escaped your lips as your body arched for more. Undulated pleasure took hold, wave after wave washing over you. You felt yourself melting, boneless - a pile of blissful surrender under his touch.

By the time he was satisfied, you were a mess. Your core was so sensitive - like a live wire, a bundle of exposed nerves. Your throat ached as pleasure coursed inside your vein, making your skin burn. Satoru held you close against his warm body as you struggled to catch your breath, before he leaned down and whispered, “We aren’t done yet, love.”

“But Satoru -” you began, but Satoru placed a finger over your lips, silencing you. “Shh, you have got some more in you - I know it.”

With that, he moved away, the rustle of fabric greeting your ear. He was undressing, you realised. The situation felt weirdly ironic. Here you were sitting on the bed, completely bare for his eyes - at his mercy, yet you couldn’t even see him.

As if sensing your thoughts, Satoru said, “Don't worry, sweetheart,” his hands brushed against your ankles, “You'll get what you want soon.”

You parted your legs, giving Satoru the space he needed as he settled closer to you, the mattress shifting under his weight.You could feel his tip against your sensitive core, a hiss leaving your lips as you lifted your hips, trying to get more of him.

Satoru moaned at the sensation, a sound that resonated through you. He pressed a hand on your lower stomach, forcing your hips down before he reached back, undoing the bonds of your hand. 

A sigh of relief left your lips as you reached out, ignoring the stiffness of your muscles. Your hands found his broad shoulders, pulling him closer.

Satoru's warmth enveloped you, his cologne a heavy presence in your senses. His tip brushed against your clit. Satoru used his cock to gather your wetness, before he found your entrance, plunging into you with a force that left you breathless.

Satoru’s pained hiss filled your ears as your walls clamped down around his sensitive length, eager for all of him. But before he completely settled inside you, Satoru stilled, moving inside you with short, shallow movement. He moved deliberately, each thrust a calculated tease designed to send you spiralling.

The frustration that had been simmering all night boiled over, coursing through your veins. You had enough of his teasing, and with a surge of newfound power, you wrapped your legs around his hips, hands gripping the back of his neck. In a smooth motion, you flipped the two of you, taking control, Satoru still nestled deep inside.

“What are you doing, love?” Satoru questioned, the sudden change in positions taking him by surprise. You moved over him, your walls squeezing around his length, causing Satoru to moan. “Taking what I need, honey” you answered breathlessly, using his own words against him. Your hands travelled up his chest, brushing against taut muscles, before moving over his shoulder and wrapping your hands around his throat. You squeezed his neck, the touch powered by the anger and frustration you felt all evening.

A moan ripped from Satoru’s chest, the sound vibrating against your hand as your hips pistoned against his. His hand tightened on your hip, providing stability to your thrusts. His other hand, a searing brand, traced a path up your side, sending shivers cascading down your spine. Reaching your blindfold, he paused, his fingers lingering on the cool fabric before he lowered it, the fabric hanging around your neck.

The darkness lifted, revealing Satoru. His eyes burned with a desire and need that mirrored the simmering anger in your gut. His hair was a mess of damp tendrils clinging to the flushed skin of his face. A thin sheen of sweat glistened on his skin, mirroring your own. His chest heaved with short, ragged breaths, evidence of the effect you had on him. Your gaze finally landed on his lips, where a smirk played. 

This fucker was enjoying this.

Your grip around his throat tightened, watching as his skin turned a deeper shade of pink. You quickened your pace over him, your head thrown back in a gasp as intense pleasure coursing through your body.

Satoru’s grip on your hips tightened further, controlling your movement, making you bounce on his cock. A gasp escaped your lips as his other hand found your throat and squeezed, a shocking contrast to the gentle brush of his thumb against your pulse point. For a moment, the world narrowed to his touch, the pressure building a delicious tension in your chest.

“So pretty, love.” His words were like fuel, feeding the growing fire of pleasure inside you. His eyes raked over your body, lingering on your chest - the reddened patches of skin, each one a map of his touch. The marks he left burned under his gaze, like flames dancing over your skin.

His hand left your throat and the pressure on your throat vanished, replaced by a gasp as you gulped in air, your pace becoming frantic. The room was filled by the sound of moans and skin slapping against skin. 

You felt your orgasm building, a tidal wave of pleasure threatening to crash over you. With a gasp, you arched your back, tightening around Satoru's hardness. A hiss escaped his lips as his grip on your hips tightened further. His nails dug in, drawing sharp, red lines across your skin, his desperate urgency that mirrored your own.

Satoru’s finger reached down, travelling between the valley of your chest, over your stomach before reaching your aching clit. His finger danced a maddeningly rhythm over your bud, each circle a deliberate tease. Anticipation coiled tighter with every caress, a pressure building in your core that threatened to explode. “Cum for me, love,” he murmured, a barely concealed tremor in his voice. When he flicked and pinched your clit, a gasp ripped from your lips.

The dam broke. Pleasure surged in a white-hot wave, crashing over you like a tidal wave. Your walls spasmed, clenching down on Satoru with a pulsing intensity. Your back arched so high you felt bone strain, your breath a ragged cry clawing its way out of your throat. You crawled at Satoru’s chest, leaving red, angry marks all over his glistering skin.

The aftershock of your release left you breathless, clinging to Satoru for support, your face buried in his chest. But before you could completely bask in the afterglow of your orgasm, Satoru shifted. With ease, he flipped you onto your hands and knees.

He shifted behind you, leaning down to press a kiss on your sweaty temple. His voice was a low rumble against your ear as your eyes met. "Enjoyed that, sweetheart?" He smirked, but the glint in his eyes held a different promise. He hovered at your entrance, the tip of him a torturous brush against your heated core.

"Because," he continued, his voice dropping to a husky whisper, "it's my turn now." Without a warning, he plunged into you again, this time from behind, taking control over your body. 

You whimpered - it felt too much. But it also felt so good.

Satoru leaned down, his hands cupping your throat, pulling you towards him. He placed a kiss on your forehead, his hands digging into your lower back, urging you closer. A shudder wracked your body, the aftershocks of your release battling the building heat within you.  

"You're doing so well," he rasped out. "Just one more," his lips moved against your cheek, a hint of desperation lacing his voice. "Can you manage that, love?"

Exhaustion gnawed at your limbs, but the raw desire in his voice was impossible to resist. You could only nod, your body already betraying your mind as he surged back into you.

His hand reached for the blindfold hanging around your neck, grabbing it. You sucked in a breath, a thrill shooting through you, already knowing what was about to come. Satoru’s hand twisted around the blindfold, tightening it, cutting off your oxygen. Your blood rushed to your face as his other hand grabbed the front of your hair, his fingers digging into your scalp, tugging at your roots.

He used the blindfold and the grip on your hair to leverage your body, controlling your movements, moving you back and forth on his cock. Tears welled up in your eyes, a mix of overwhelming sensation and exhilaration. Your body moved instinctively against his, lost in the delicious friction he had created.

Satoru's grip on your hair intensified, pulling your head up. “Fuck love, you take me so well” he groaned. his movements became erratic, fueled by his own rising desire. His gasps filled the space between you, mirroring your own quickening breaths. You could feel the frantic beat of his heart echoing against your back

A surge of heat flared low in your abdomen, spreading outwards in a delicious wave. Your walls instinctively clenched around him, mirroring the tightening grip of his hand around the blindfold. You squeezed your eyes shut, overwhelmed by a tsunami of sensations - the press of his body, the unrestricted sounds of his pleasure, the exquisite friction building within you and the way he filled you.

Your orgasm finally took over you - over every muscle in your body, leaving a white - hot fire burning in its wake. It felt as if your senses had stopped working, the intensity of your release replacing everything. Your breath hitched in your throat, replaced by a guttural moan that tore from your lips.

Satoru hissed behind you, his movement becoming jerky as his length pulsed inside you, “So close -  love” he choked out, gasping, before you felt his warm cum filling you up. He shuddered, his body mirroring yours as his own orgasm greeted him.

Satoru continued pumping into you, pushing and burying his release deep inside you - where it belonged. He pulled out, using his cock to gather the cum and wetness leaking out of you, before pushing it back into you, stuffing you up completely.

He held you close, his ragged breaths mingling with yours. The world faded away, leaving only the press of his body and the aftershocks of pleasure reverberating through you. “See what you do to me?” he asked, still pulsing inside you, before pulling you in for a kiss.

Satoru's fingertips traced lazy circles over your bare back, his fingers cool against your heated skin. You nestled deeper into his chest, the crisp scent of fresh bed sheets and his bodywash calming your senses.

"You did so good today, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice a low rumble against your ear. You could hear the tenderness, the unmistakable pride lacing his words - You knew he wasn’t just talking about the events that took place moments before.

Confused, you lifted your head, meeting his gaze. The question forming on your lips died in your throat as he pressed a finger against them, a playful glint in his sapphire eyes. "Let me finish, okay?" he asked, a soft smile playing on his lips while his eyes pleaded you to remain quiet - to let him say what he was thinking.

Your hand instinctively wrapped around his, a silent invitation for him to continue. His other hand brushed through your damp hair, still wet from the shower. "Taking on a special grade curse all alone? Without even a scratch?." His voice hushed with awe, "You're incredible, love."

A blush crept up your neck. You knew you were more than capable - you had trained hard to reach where you are today - but hearing it from Satoru sent warmth through you. You knew he wasn’t saying it just for the sake of it - he genuinely meant it. "It wasn't that big of a deal," you said, trying to deflect his praise, ignoring the warmth blooming in your chest.

He chuckled, a rich, rumbling sound. Then, his expression turned serious. "Seriously, though, next time something like that happens, just let me know, alright?” he asked, cupping your face, your eyes meeting his. “Even a quick text would do."

The playful glint returned to his eyes. "Besides," he added, a mischievous smirk spreading across his face, "it wouldn't be any fun if I don’t show up every now and then, saving your ass" 

You couldn't help but laugh, the sound echoing in the quiet room. You playfully yanked his arm “It was just once!” you said, the laughter still bubbling out of you. 

But you knew he was right, knew he just wanted to be there for you, to offer his strength when you needed it most.  "Alright," you conceded, a smile gracing your lips. "Whenever something like this happens again, I will let you know."

He squeezed your hand, the warmth spreading through you. "Good," he said, before pulling you closer, his lips brushing against your temple.

Your eyelids felt heavy - the day’s fatigue finally caught up to you. You nestled in Satoru’s arm as sleep pulled you into its comforting embrace.

a/n: Ahhh, writing smut is always SO difficult but so fun lol. I hope you enjoyed this!

Dividers by @/cafekitsune!

[depravitycentral]

yandere, 18+

I know I write about this kind of stuff a lot, but there’s just something about men humping inanimate objects that just really gets to me.

It’s the desperation that they can't control. It's the physical urge to move, to feel something underneath them, their body physically unable to stop itself from fucking something. It's the way their hips snap and buck and jolt all without them meaning it, their body betraying them on the most primal level because their subconscious is recognizing that they need something warm and soft and oh so pretty to sink into, to rut against until he's smearing pearls of white against soft, supple skin. It's the uncontrollable need to hump themselves against you, really.

Fucking their fist and mechanically bringing their wrist up and down again and again until cum oozes from the tip is fine and dandy, but they need more. They need the full immersion of the fantasy of fucking you, their brain needing the mental images and the physical motions of thrusting, pretending with every fiber of their being that its your warm, wet cunt sucking them in, the velvety feel of your walls leaving phantom touches against his skin.

(Some of them even go so far as to scratch at their own back, eyes rolling to the back of their head imagining that it’s you leaving your mark on him, that it’s your nails digging into his skin and digging into him, making him yours yours yours. They'll pinch at their own nipples, press fingertips hard against their biceps, even wrap a hand around his neck hard enough to leave the area red and irritated just to simulate the way that you'd touch him.)

Pillows, cushions, blankets, anything soft that could be a poor stand-in for your body is fine. Anything that he can clutch onto, that he can press his hips against tightly enough to be suffocating, something that can mold to the shape of him just as you would - all just to really feel like he’s got every single inch stuffed inside of you, giving everything he possibly can to you.

Even hard things will do in a pinch - perhaps the cover of a book you love and cherish, the texture of the binding leaving a slightly painful sting behind that blends into the pleasure and makes his eyes roll back. (Will you still smell the pages and sigh at that old-book smell, or will you perhaps notice the new presence of something slightly musky, slightly heavy, unexplainably male?) Your hairbrush - rutting against the handle he knows you’ve fucked your self with, alternating between rutting against it and bringing it up to his mouth to suck on, eyes squeezed shut as he tried to taste any traces of you.

The only rule is that it has to be something of yours, or something that connects to you in some way. Your pillow, a few wayward strands of your hair sitting against the plush, feeling like heaven and making him blush when he sees the way his sticky cum has left the hairs smeared again his skin, tacky and stuck to him. (The sight makes him suck in his breath, gulping harshly as he comes down from his high, a thumb coming out to carefully, nervously brush at the hair, unable to stop himself from feeling like the sight is somehow so very right.)

It’s better when things are stained - your underwear with discharge discoloration bleaching the fabric, your favorite skirt that you accidentally stained during your period, even a particular pair of socks that you once got dirt on. It’s been used and loved by you, and now he’ll use and love it, too, even leaving his very own stain behind.

There’s just something about it that makes everything feel better, more complete, more real. Of course nothing will ever compare to actually fucking you, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

And of course, the pinnacle, when he really gets desperate, is when he whips out one of the many, many photographs he's taken of you. (Or, photos he'd printed out from your social media accounts because he's too shy to actually photograph you - and this is less creepy, right? Right?) He's touching it with delicate fingers, barely pinching onto the corners, laying the image down on his bed and positioning himself to be right over it. He'll take his time to trace the outline of your face with the tip, sighing and biting his lip, before the urge takes over and soon he's groaning, hips rutting against the smooth surface of the photograph - your face, really.

(The cool feeling and the twinge of pain he gets when he angles wrong and catches the edge of the photograph only makes him grit his teeth, eyes squeezing shut harder because he has to do this - he has to keep fucking, to keep pushing himself because he needs to come for you, you deserve and he wants to give it to you so badly and oh oh oh - The photograph of you smiling is almost prettier with globs of his cum staining your pearly teeth and the apples of your cheeks.)

It's just so depraved, but they can't help it - they just want you so badly that they can't help it.

(In particular I'm thinking of the chronic humpers - Kageyama, who gets so, so whiny, his voice going high and pitchy and his face turning a bright pink color as his abs clench and flex, each drag of his hips making his arms shake even more, sweat beading at his temple leaving his dark hair matted to his forehead.

Or Sugawara, who tends to lay onto his back, humping at the pillow from underneath, pressing the cotton so hard against his pelvis that his biceps are taut, back arching and Adam's Apple bobbing as he chants yes yes yes under his breath, one hand even coming up to blindly grope and squeeze at the air where he imagines your bouncing tits to be.

Or Giyuu, who's thrusts start out slow, hesitant, embarrassed, as if he can't believe he's been reduced to his, worried to sully your good name. But then his hips get faster and he's burying his face into the crook of his elbow, whispering out a stuttered, broken p-please accompanied by your name as he cum seeps into the pillow material.

Or Tomura, who has all the fancy sex toys in the world that he's found on the deepest, most questionable parts of the internet, but finds that nothing is a good stand in aside from your pillow. He starts off animalistic, mounting the pillow and smacking at it, imagining the way your pretty ass would bounce back and ripple at the motion. But then his orgasm draws closer and the thrusts get deeper, more meaningful, like he's trying to reach as deeply inside of you as possible, and his grip is almost unbearably tight as his orgasm washes over him, hips quivering and twitching as he imagines the way you'd clutch onto him and thank him.

Or Feitan, who's biting into the pillow as he cock drags against it, teeth bared and practically snarling into the (stained) cotton, dark eyes squeezed shut as he tries so very hard to not whine your name.

Or even, on very, very specific occasions, Chrollo, whose sense of dignity flies out the window when you deny his romantic advances once again. You're just playing so very hard to get, and while he's invested into the game for the long run, he's still just a man - and the image of you spread out underneath him, wearing lacy, angelic lingerie and spreading those creamy, supple thighs of yours is enough to drive him mad.

It's just pathetic enough to be sweet, really, and although you aren't exactly flattered when you walk in on him heatedly grunting your name with the pillow tightly clutched between his thighs, just know he's doing it for you. Everything he does is for you.

[werecreature-addicted]

I remember some of your posts about a minotaur who lived with a peasant girl, can I ask for something about that? If it's not a bother of courseDue to the life that the minotaur has had, its instincts never appeared, that is, it never went through a stage of heat due to the stress and abuse to which it was subjected, but now everything is different, it is calmer, more relaxed, and it began to pay attention to a girl, specifically the girl she lives with, and apparently her instincts are beginning to appear, her body asks her to "mate" with her partner, although it is difficult to control herself, plus they are nothing yet and the girl does not know that minotaurs also go through a hot season, and it's not like she was going to ask him that, it would be very strange xd

(imagine that poor cock crying to enter the girl, but he must hide it, even if it is uncomfortable)

Sam master list for previous parts.

under the cut because this is long...for me at least.

Normally when it came to the physically demanding chores around the farm Sam liked to do the heavy lifting, literally. You were stronger than you looked but you still didn't have the monstrous strength that he did, and even besides that, he liked to spoil you. He'd never admit it out loud but he liked the way you sometimes watched him as he repaired the siding of a barn or hammered in a sense post. Something about the way your eyes followed him left a warm feeling in his belly. It's especially nice now that sometimes you kiss him after he's done a good job.

Now though, he just stands and stares as you work, nailing together bits of wood making your own saddle stand out of leftover bits of material. You looked so good, sweaty, and bent over your little bench. Is this how you felt when you watched him work? Sam doesn't even have the vocabulary to describe the strange heat that burns inside of him. He's supposed to be doing other work right now but he can't tear his eyes from you.

He wants to bend you over that saddle stand and- and what? He flinches back from the thought he didn't want to hurt you and he hates that his instincts are pushing him in that direction. But he wouldn't hurt you, his mind argues back. He wouldn't pin you down to hurt win a match or something. He'd be gentle. He'd pleasure you. Sam shudders. Where were these thoughts coming from?

His nostrils flare and even from across the barn, he can smell you and the salt of your sweat makes his cock throb. Sam sits down hard and pulls a nearby milk bucket over the large tent in his pants. He immediately feels stupid and tosses the pail aside, it did more to draw attention to his boner than hide it. He settles for just sitting awkwardly and hoping you don't notice.

How can Sam ever look you in the eye again after this? He supposes he shouldn't feel so guilty about being attracted to you but surely it's perverse to want you this badly when you're not even doing anything. At least if you were naked in bed trying to seduce him he'd have good reason to be this turned on. Sam shudders and replays the mental image of you, naked in bed, looking up at him trying to pull him towards you. Fuck he needed to get on top of you.

Just as that thought crossed his mind you bent over the waist-height wooden stand to grab something from your toolbox jutting your ass out in front of him. In a second Sam is on his feet, walking towards you before he can register what he's even doing, all he knows is that he needs you.

"oh, Sam-" you gasp, jumping a little when you turn to see him right behind you. For someone so big he moved silently. Sam takes a step forward and presses you back against the barn wall. "What's going on honey?" you ask trying to sound calm but you'd be lying if you said you weren't a little nervous about his behavior. Sam had always been so cautious with you, overly gentle and paranoid that he might hurt you by accident. The Sam you knew would never pin you against a wall like this, it was nervewracking but also exciting.

"I uhm I just wanted to be close to you I guess," he mumbled, lowering his snout to your shoulder as if he was smelling you. Sam steps closer and you feel something brush against your thigh at first you think it's his leg but you look down and realize it's his barely restrained cock poking into your thigh.

"Do- are you uhm in heat Sam?" You ask and the monster on top of you freezes.

"do- do minotaurs go into heat?" he asks puzzled.

"I guess I don't know but most monsters do have you really never gone into heat before?" You ask then wince, it made sense that he wouldn't go into heat when he was under such harsh conditions his body wouldn't let him go into such a vulnerable state.

"No," he said, his hips grinding softly against your thigh he groans at the friction and you can't help but shudder too. You might not go into heat but you did want him just as much. "Will you help me?" he asked desperately.

"yes- yeah, I'll help you let me just-" As soon as he has your consent all other thoughts fly out of his head. He pushes his mouth to yours kissing you and effectively shutting you up. This wasn't like any of the other soft and innocent kisses you and Sam had shared in the past this was heated, and needy and caused a warm heat to bloom inside of you. This isn't a kiss for the sake of kissing, this is a kiss that promises much much more to come.

Even desperate like this, Sam still tries to be gentle as he strips your clothes and kneels down so he can hook your legs over his broad, muscular shoulders, your back pressed to the wall of the barn he holds your weight easily.

"I'm going to get you nice and prepped for me, my cock is big and I need you to take every inch, okay?" he asks softly, kissing the soft skin of your inner thigh as his thick fingers ghost over your cunt.

"Hold my horns while you rid my face," Sam instructs. You look down at his horns, one normal and the other broken and jagged. You hesitated, you knew how much that broken horn hurt him and you didn't want to grab it, but before you could put much more thought into it Sam pressed his mouth to your cunt, running his large soft tongue over your folds getting you wet enough to slot his big fingers inside of you. You yelp and settle for holding on to his good horn with one hand and tangling your fingers in his hair with the other.

Sam's cock ached. He needed to be buried inside of you, but he held himself back. He imagined the pained squeak you'd make if he tried to fuck you without any prep and that was almost enough to snap him out of his lusty haze. Almost.

You lose count of how many times you cum as he stretches you out and gets you ready for his dick, eventually though he decides that you're ready for him, or he just gets tired of waiting. Your legs tremble and for a second you worry you're not going to be able to stand on your own but you needn't worry, Sam had no intention of letting you stand. he readjusts his grip so that your legs are over his forearms and he pins you against the wall again his cock nudging your opening, slipping up your pussy as he tries unsuccessfully to push into you. His cock head bumps your clit and you feel a pulse of warm precum ooze out onto your hot skin making you shudder, your thighs tense in his arms, and Sam grunts, spreading your legs a little further as he grinds his cock over your cunt again.

You reach between your two bodies and grasp his cock. You curse silently to yourself feeling the weight and girth of it for the first time. You stroke him a few times before you guide his dick inside of you.

Sam had been so careful to be gentle with you this whole time, but now that he feels your tight heat gripping him in a way he's never felt before he no longer has the restraint. His brain shuts off and he feels more like a beast than he has in years. Sam slams his hips against yours burying his cock to the hilt in one swift motion. You cry out and dig your nails into his biceps, holding on for dear life as he thrusts into you with all the strength of a bull plowing a field. You're pretty sure you hear something crack and for a minute you aren't sure if it's you or the barn wall behind you that's breaking.

Sam groans loudly as he sinks his cock into you over and over again. His hips have a mind of their own as they steadily rock back and forth. He hates to admit it, but every time you cry out in pleasure or in pain it makes his cock throb. He would have thought the sound of you hurting-hurting because of him, would be enough to break his heart instead it makes him whimper and only fuels his desire to fuck you harder and fill you with his cum until you were swollen with it.

The mental image of you bloated with his seed proves to be too much for him and with one more deep stroke he cums deep inside of you, his legs shake with the relief of finally breeding you. He pulls you away from the wall and crashes backward into a hay bail laying down to catch his breath while keeping you impaled on his cock.

It feels right to have you on his chest and be surrounded by the earthy comforting smell of hay and dirt. You shift a little and his hands fly up to your hips pushing you back down.

"Stay... please," he almost begs softly.

"I'm not going anywhere, Sam, I just want to get off your dick," you promise, trying to shift again. then he looks at you with the saddest most pleading look you've ever seen. his big brown cow eyes sparkling at you.

"Please don't, I want to be inside of you so you can feel me get hard again before I fuck you," he mumbles pleadingly. how could you say no to that face?

[multific]

Scent

Alpha!Simon Riley x Omega!Reader

Warning: non-explicit smut. 

Summary: Building nests was part of the process of an Omega going into heat. However you never actually thought you would find yourself locked away in a house with your Lieutenant.

To say that the mission has gone to shit would be an understatement.

They were hunting you down and if it wasn't for Ghost, you would be dead by now.

If it wasn't for him and his sharp reflexes you would be lying with a bullet in your skull.

But you weren't.

Instead, you were in a much worse situation.

At the start of your mission, you took your suppressants, figuring you would be back the next day, you didn't even pack any, so now, you were here, on an uncomfortable mattress, trying to make it homey for your heat.

You never actually minded going into heat. You could just lock your door, fill your room with food and be good for a couple of days.

But this was a very different situation.

You were in a bunker-like building, hiding for survival with an Alpha who was also your Lieutenant. 

Not a situation you wanted to be in.

"You need to rest, I will keep watch." he avoided you, and didn't even come close to you, he just stopped at the door, never entering the room. He did put food down for you on the floor every day, commenting when you didn't eat something.

He was kind.

You knew he could smell your heat coming up, Alphas always did.

You know the upcoming days will be as much of a torture for him, as it will be for you.

You were glad it was Ghost with you, at least he had control over his alpha.

Before you could reply, he already left. Going as far away from you as possible. Yet, your smell still lingered. 

Sure, Simon had control over his alpha, but the temptation was too great. You were perfect. In every aspect of the word. The perfect woman, partner, and omega.

At first, Simon thought you had no place in the army, he thought Price had gone insane but you proved him wrong.

Your kindness wasn't your weakness, instead your strength. 

Simon took a deep breath, his mind and body immediately filled up with your scent, and how sweet you smelled. Simon, out of frustration, hit the wall, making the brick crumble.

He knew he should be there with you, help you, and yet, he was forcing himself away from you. 

Even if everything inside him was screaming for him to go to you, help you, feed you, and keep you safe and comfortable.

He knew he can't.

The next day he brought you another plate of food. 

"Ghost..." your voice came out way too desperate. "Can I have your shirt, please? The smell of the... pillows are..." Simon didn't need to be asked twice. He handed you his sweatshirt in a swift movement. "Thank you." he watched as you cuddled up with his clothes and he couldn't help but wish it was him. He forced himself to stand up and leave.

His scent really did help ease your pain as your heat reached its high. 

Your mind is filled with all the different lewd things. 

And yet, somehow, even with a hazy mind, even with a fog before your eyes, deep down, you knew better than to act upon those images filling your mind.

But you didn't know how to keep your scent at bay, not like there was a method or something. 

And it caused quite an interesting reaction with Simon.

While you were locked in a room, touching yourself to the thought of an Alpha, he kept stroking his cock to the scent and thought of you. 

You both knew it was forbidden, but no one was around, no one could hear your thoughts and your moans.

And for now, it was enough.

---

Thankfully, your heat soon ended, Simon got used to your smell as it slowly weakened. 

You started to grow stronger, and back to normal, but it will take you a couple of days to be fully back in action.

Simon knew this.

"How are you feeling?" he asked from the doorway, while you lay on the mattress on the floor.

"Your smell disappeared," you said with a pout as you looked at him.

"I will give you my shirt then, let's exchange." he said as he held out his shirt for you to take, you gave him the sweatshirt back.

His shirt smelled like you now. 

"We will have to leave in a few days, we have been here for almost a week now. We cannot stay, they will find us."

"I will be good to go tomorrow. I'm still a bit hazy though," you said and Simon nodded.

"How can I help more?"

"You have done plenty, Simon." use never used his name before, it was always Lieutenant or Ghost, nothing more, nothing less. 

You kept it professional. Until now.

"I will bring you more food for dinner, so you can have your strength back."

"Thank you, Alpha." you whispered the last part, but he heard you.

God, he heard you very well. As the door closed behind him, he just stood there, too stunned to move. Everything in him screamed to go inside and to claim you.

But he couldn't. He shouldn't.

And yet, he did.

He turned right back, opened the door and for the first time in four days, he stepped inside, closing the door behind himself.

He looked at you as you lay with his shirt pressed into your face, smelling it.

He knelt down beside you, taking deep breaths to remember your scent.

You opened your eyes and smiled at him.

"Took you long enough." you said as you moved to turn around and leave some space behind yourself.

"Shut it." he whispered before he moved to lay down with you in your nest, holding you close with his nose in your hair. "Omega." he said and it made you humm. "You smell so good." he took a deep breath and you smiled to yourself, not opening your eyes.

You put your hand on his which held you close by your stomach.

"You could have been here for my heat."

"I wouldn't have been able to control myself."

"Of course, you would have. You are Simon Riley... What made you realize that I wanted you here all along?"

"Your smell had a hint of sadness every day. But when I came into the room... you smelled like hope and..."

"Love." you finished for him. "Am I truly that obvious?"

"The smell of an Omega never lies to an Alpha."

"You are right, I'm a lot happier as well."

"Same."

"I wish we didn't have to leave."

"Same." he breathed out one last time before you fell asleep in his arms.

Building nests was part of the process of an Omega going into heat.

And Simon never failed to notice that you made yours bigger, to give room to him.

Taglist: @castellandiangelo @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou @mandoloriancookie @brascaris @il0vebeingdelulu @deliciousfestsalad @groovyqueer @lilliumrorum

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE OR REUPLOAD ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[optimist-pine]

Bodyguard

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Warnings: people are naked, but it's barely even borderline suggestive

Summary: You need a bath, but there's no way you're going alone

Era: Season 1, the Quarry

Your skin practically crawls from the buildup of dirt, sweat, and who knows what else that's managed to accumulate over the past three days. You still haven't quite adjusted to the reality of not having on-demand access to a hot shower and your scalp is all oily, and itchy, and eugh - gross. A little shiver runs down your spine at the thought - well, maybe that's just more sweat...

The bold shades of the sunset are beginning to fade as you make your way to the Dixon brothers' camp. Currently they're the closest thing you have to neighbors, your tent being between theirs and the rest of the group. You're dying for a quick dip and rinse in the pond, but you don't actually want to die for a bath, and you know it's a dumb idea to go alone. Everyone else seems busy though and you've come to the conclusion that Daryl seems to be your only option.

Most of the others actively avoid the brothers, and you can't say you blame them. Merle's constantly stirring up trouble and being a general annoyance, and Daryl's quick to jump to his defense. But, on the rare occasion when Daryl isn't being held under Merle's thumb, you catch glimpses of a very different person than what he usually puts out.

He's sitting in an old lawn chair by the side of a fire when you approach, poking a stick around in the coals. Little sparks shoot off where the fresh evening air hits them, and the smell of woodsmoke fills your lungs.

"Hey." You greet. A spot of doubt begins to arise within you, but you quickly stamp it out. With recent events you were beginning to discover that there wasn't much room left for second guessing or overthinking anymore.

"Need somethin'?" He asks, eyes flicking up to you for a moment before returning to the flames.

You hang your thumbs in your belt loops, fingers tapping against your hips. "If you're not busy, I was hoping maybe you could go down to the water with me? I'd ask someone else but they all seem rather occupied at the moment... and I don't think Shane'd let me go alone." You say.

He looks up, jaw set awfully close to a scowl. "I ain't gonna be yer damn bodyguard." He huffs.

"No- I don't want you to watch me or anything like that- I guess I'm just asking for companionship?" You reply. "You could do whatever you're gonna do here, but just do it down there?" You hike your thumb over your shoulder in the direction of the pond.

He stays silent, but a sudden chorus of laughter flows out from the direction of the rest of the group. You study the way the firelight smooths out his rough edges, and you can't help but wonder if the look in his eyes is just boredom or if it's really loneliness.

"Unless you prefer Merle's company, then by all means I'll leave ya to it." You continue, trying your best to ignore Merle sawing logs in the tent, and erase the image of his hand too close to his crotch from your mind.

He jams the stick into the dirt hard enough that it remains standing when he lets go. "A'ight. Lemme get 'mah stuff."

"Awesome, I'll be over at my tent when you're ready." You smile, pleased and a little surprised that you'd managed to get him to say yes. Admittedly, Merle wasn't so bad when he was passed out, but it was reassuring to know that you were at least preferred company over an unconscious jerk.

---

Dirt and gravel crunch under your boots as the two of you walk, your knapsack bouncing steadily against your back with each step. "Thanks for coming with me. I'm not necessarily afraid of the dark or anything, but there's a lot worse things in the woods now than just coyotes." You explain. "And it's just nice not to be alone."

He simply grunts in response.

Good thing you didn't ask him along for his conversational skills.

When you reach the edge of the water you find a rock close to the shore to set out clean clothes and a towel. You see Daryl settle down, back propped against a boulder as he starts rummaging around in his own bag. "Whatcha gonna work on?" You ask.

He pulls out a whetstone and a couple large hunting knives. "Cleanin' mah tools." He replies.

You begin to undress, but a feeling of uncertainty causes you to pause. "Man, I wish I didn't feel like he's sitting up there right now with those binoculars..."

"Who? Shane?" He asks sounding surprised.

"Yeah." You shudder. "Guy gives me the creeps."

You hear scrape of the knife grinding against the sharpener. "Well, hurry up an'ere won' be anythin' ta see." He says.

"Yeah..." You keep your eye on Daryl while you finish, but he doesn't lift his gaze even once beyond sharpening his knife. "I won't be long." You assure him as the cool water rises around you.

As soon as you're far enough in you dive forward, the rush of water instantly reviving and refreshing your whole body as it flows past. You rise upwards as giddiness fills you and you break the surface with a laugh. "This is heavenly!" You gasp. You continue diving and twirling, every sore muscle and painful bruise easing away.

You pause to catch your breath and a small splash has you immediately alert. You left your knife up on the shore with Daryl, but you hadn't heard any sounds of alarm from him so surely it's not a walker. But when you look to the shore the sight has you almost equally as shocked. Daryl is chest deep in the water - bare chested that is - ripples being sent out across the still expanse as he sinks further in.

"Hey!" You yell. "I asked you out here because I thought you weren't some sorta pervert!" You hope it's dark enough that nothing in the water is visible because he's only getting closer.

The moon is full and bright, and the way it reflects off the water makes him look almost ethereal. "Can't protect ya if I'm up'ere an' yer alla'way out 'ere." He reasons.

"I don't need protecting." You roll your eyes. "And all the weapons are up there, Dixon!" You send a splash of water directly into his face.

He returns the splash. "Looked like I was missin' out on alla fun." He shrugs. "'Sides, ya never know when somethin' might jus'-" he disappears under the surface of the water and barely a second later something wraps around your ankle, tugging you under the surface.

When you're released you bob back up to the top wanting to be stern, but you're too busy giggling and swallowing mouthfuls of water to do so. When he surfaces behind you, you turn and splash him again sputtering, "Daryl you- that's not- I can't-" and end up full on belly laughing while trying to stay afloat.

You think you catch the shadow of a smile on his lips before he turns and floats away, like he's done nothing worthy of retaliation. 'Oho boy is he gonna get it.' As quietly as possible you lower yourself in the water, and using shadows from the moonlight, you swim under his head. Reaching up with both hands you use all your strength to grab his shoulders and pull yourself above the surface while pushing him down as hard as you can. Then you make a break for it.

You hear him gasp for air, coughing and sputtering as you swim as fast as you can in the opposite direction.

"Get back 'ere, woman!" He shouts, his tone highly amused. "Yer gonna hafta pay 'fer that!"

You don't realize how loudly you're laughing until the beam of a flashlight is suddenly shining directly in your face.

"Everything alright here?" Shane questions, standing on the shore not far from your and Daryl's discarded clothes. A few of the others are with him; Dale, Andrea, T-Dog, and Morales.

Even in the chilly water you can feel your skin begin to flush all the way down your neck. "Yes! All good!" You squeak out, squinting in the harsh brightness.

"We heard yelling." Andrea chimes in.

You're confident that in all your life you've never been more embarrassed. "That was laughing, guys. I wanted a bath and I asked Daryl to be my bodyguard. We were just, uh, blowing off some steam and I guess we got a little loud... Sorry if we worried anyone." You glance at Daryl who appears to be doing his best impression of the invisible man.

You can make out Dale's hat exceptionally well even in the darkness. "Are you sure you're okay?"

Their hesitation to leave sparks frustration within you - do they really think so lowly of Daryl? Is that what this is all about? Sure, nobody really knows him all that well, but you're all practically strangers and he's done alright by you. The desire to defend him takes over and you snap at the group, "Ah, what're y'all, the fun police? Go ruin somebody else's night and leave us be."

You don't take a good breath until they're all headed back to camp, and it's once again quiet and dark. You sigh, tilting your head back to watch the stars so high above as you float. "Dead people walking around eatin' living people - ya think they'd have bigger problems to deal with than a couple'a skinny dippers." You remark.

A quick exhale of a laugh, not quite a snort, echoes across the pond. "People're always jealous of'a good time if they ain't havin' one." He says quietly.

You pull your fingers through the water, feeling the tension push against them. "So... are ya feeling jealous, or did ya have a good time?" You ask.

"S'pose it wasn't too bad." He says. "But I ain't yer damn bodyguard."

And you grin.

---

Yeah, maybe it's a little awkward getting dried off, getting dressed, and walking back to camp but you sleep more soundly than you have since you arrived. And maybe you're a little annoyed with the way everyone seems to have nothing better to do than gossip, but that new gleam in Daryl's eye when he looks at you wipes it all from your mind. And maybe a lot of things suck, but at the end of the day there's someone who actually likes you, and maybe that's enough.

[xeeljii]

I need joost whimpering into my neck so bad its not even funny anymore IM GNAWING AT THE BARS OF MY ENCLOSURE (touching grass rn thanks)

can i write a little something .... ( ˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈♡)

WARNING! Explicit RPF! 

CW: 18+, f! reader, dry humping sorry im in my dry humping era, drunk! Joost, established relationship, needy so needy Joost.

Late at night the window to your shared apartment is still open letting a little breeze in, it is the middle of summer and you are just laying on the living room couch watching TV ready for bed when you finally hear the ring of the doorbell. Joost had been gone since the midday with his friends and now so late you guessed he must have had a good day if he wasn't even able to use his keys.

You get up, turn the TV off and open the door with a soft smile on your lips, he is hanging between Appie and Stunje, red to the tip of his ears and so obviously drunk. His eyes are closed, his face is hanging low, he looks like a rag doll as both his friends hold him trying to keep him from falling, you laugh slightly at the sight.

"Thanks for bringing him home." You say voice low to not wake him but as soon as the words leave your mouth he raises like coming back to life at the sweet familiar sound of you.

He opens his eyes quickly, pupils unfocused and hair all tousled on his forehead. He smiles brightly his whole face lighting up and the so beloved dimples appearing.

"Liefde!" He all but screams as he lets go of the shoulders of his friends and throws himself all over you.

He is never mindful of his size even less so when he is drunk, he rests all his weight on you and you do everything to hold him and not fall backwards. You place a hand securely on his back as he rubs his face against your neck, he bends down in an awkward position to sniff at your perfume. You feel yourself blush quickly when he starts placing kisses on the exposed skin still very aware of the presence of his friends who break in laughter when they realize what he is doing.

But he doesn't care, he can't care when you smell so nice and feel so good and soft under his hands.

"I'm so sorry." You say mortified, they just continue laughing before Appie speaks.

"This one kept whining about missing you at the bar then when we got in the taxi he kept trying to call you but couldn't figure out how to unlock his phone so he threw a fit." You can see the image so clear in your mind it is so embarrassing and so adorable all at the same time.

"You are his screensaver you knew that right?" You blush deeply, you didn't know, but it is not surprising Joost is practically bordering on obsessed with you.

Joost is holding you tightly and shamelessly planting kisses on your warm skin completely ignoring the conversation happening right in front of him, then he gets bolder and starts sneaking his hand right under your sleeping camisole. You wince.

"Okay we are leaving." Stunje says saving you any further embarrassment you throw him an apologetic smile and a thank you before everyone says their goodbyes and leaves.

When the door is finally closed you can breath a little easier, you pull hard at Joost's shirt trying to peel him off you.

"You are such a handful." You say, so much love dripping from your tone it comes out with no bite.

"I missed you~" He whines into you stretching the last syllable.

"I can see." You start pulling him towards the bed room, he stays pressed close to you not allowing you to leave his embrace even by an inch.

When you get to the bed he finally releases you a bit but only to push you down onto the mattress, you fall with a soft thud in the middle.

"Hey!" You chide.

"I missed my baby." He says with furrowed eyebrows standing over you, he is so whiny when he is drunk, he is so clingy and so needy.

"Just take your clothes off and come to bed." You say rolling your eyes, you do have work early and whatever he is trying to get at can't happen.

He quickly does as he is told and starts crawling on top of you only on his boxers.

"I have work in the morning." You remind him softly before he gets ahead of himself.

"I know." He mumbles, cute little pout adorning his puffy lips. But knowing doesn't stop him from much and he makes himself a little place between your legs wrapping the muscle around his hips before he lets himself fall right on top of you.

"You can't sleep like that, you are crushing me." You pull lightly at his hair to get him to move but he doesn't and you already know that he won't.

"I really missed you." He says in that airy breathy tone that has you dampening in your panties.

He reaches a hand over your camisole stopping over your breast, his head is pressed right against the crook of your neck. He starts softly massaging at the mound of fat over the fabric and you can't help but sigh at his touch. He is kissing at the sensitive skin over your pulse and licking intently to pull more sounds from you.

"Joost." You whine unsure if you are asking for more or chiding him again, but he just likes the way you say his name so it only spurs him on.

He feels the nipple harden against the soft fabric and wants to touch directly so bad, he pulls his hand away before moving it to the hem of your shirt and pulling it up all over your breasts. At that he finally pulls slightly away from you just so he can admire at your beautiful forms, without even touching him he is already twitching in his boxers and a dark wet spot forms at the fabric of his underwear.

"So pretty." He says before he bends down chasing back after your warmth again.

He goes straight for your nipple wraps his lips around the sensitive skin and starts sucking as much of you into his mouth as he can, his other hand massages at your chest. His hips start moving against yours, he is grinding hard against your pelvis, moaning agains your tit on his mouth and groping hard at the other one with his big warm palm. You involuntarily start grinding back, back slowly rising from the mattress to match his pace.

You feel him so hard against your core, his length pushing right against the fabric of your shorts, he is breathing so heavy against your chest nose buried against your skin moaning as he sucks on you. He keeps rubbing himself on you, harder, faster, he is going to crush you, you really feel his whole weight on you as he wildly uses your smaller frame to get off. You feel him twitching even between the layers of fabric still separating you, you already know his body so well.

He pulls away from your nipple, grabs with both hands at your waist moving you harder against his body, you feel his hips start to stutter, he bends down again and searches for your neck, he is panting and leaving wild kisses and love bites everywhere he can reach, he can't help himself he needs to mark you so bad right now, alcohol high on his bloodstream he forgets any reservation.

"Let me come." He says in a whisper accentuated by a hard thrust.

"Can I come baby?" He asks sweetly as he licks under your ear.

"Please" He whines against the sensitive skin of your neck, you feel his deep voice sending waves directly to your cunt, you are so wet, your clit is so hard and throbbing at his words alone.

"Please touch me." He whimpers right against your hair.

"Please touch my dick." He is begging now, so close, just needs a little help, just needs the smallest touch from his sweet kind girlfriend to get off.

And who are you to deny him?

So you move a hand low between the two of you, reach inside his boxers, you don't even bother pulling them down and just stroke him hard and fast, your hand clenching around him tightly just how he likes it and twisting around the tip. Just within a few movements he is coming, on your hand, on his underwear, on your pajamas. Long white stripes dirtying everything with delicious heat.

"I love you, I love you, I love you." He continues mewling against your throat as he weakly thrust against your palm with the last waves of his climax.

He pulls enough strength to kiss your lips messily before he finally collapses onto you with a deep content sigh.

You still feel yourself throbbing inside your shorts but before you realize it he is already fallen deep asleep holding softly at your tit with a big warm hand. Sleeping so peacefully like an angel, like he didn't just use you to get off. You roll your eyes with so much fondness.

"You really are a handful." You say almost in disbelief kissing at his cheek as his face rests pressed on your neck breathing softly.

You pull your hand away and wipe it on the duvet. He is going to have to wash that tomorrow, and your pajamas and his boxers, it is his fault it all got dirty. And he will probably wake you up with head as an apology for leaving you high and dry and you will most likely not make it to work on time because he won't be happy with making you come just one time, no, for the grieve offense of not making you finish he will want to pull as many orgasms from you as he can before you are begging for him to let go, all overstimulated and pretty on his mouth. But all of those are problems for tomorrow you, so you just wrap your arms around him and pull him closer before his comforting weight over your body on you drags you to sleep.

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

A/N: idk where this came from idk lol not proof read etc

ps. this is not THE DRY HUMPING fic this is just me being insane

[siri-ike]

Summer of change

Part 2? 4?... part 4.

Prev

The morgue? No, thank you. Danny may be more comfortable with death than the average person, but he does not want to see what a dissected body looks like. He'd rather save that for when his parents finally catch him, and he finds out first hand.

Too bad Steph wasn't really asking.

"This isn't happening. This isn't happening. This isn't happening." He repeated in his head for every step down.

"Oh, come on," Steph calls from the bottom of the stairs. "It's just a basement."

"Nothing good ever happens in basements." He yells back.

The lights are harsh. It smells like bleach and other chemicals. Nothing like the lab at home. Sure, ectoplasm doesn't exactly smell good, or even unlike a corpse. But, ya'know, it's fainter. Like the memory of a smell. This smell is very present.

"Wanna lie down on the dissection table?" She teased.

The image of Vlad, both present and future, strapping him down to a metal table. He wouldn't want to experience anything like that ever again. Green blood goo everywhere. Flashed before his eyes. "No," He sneered.

"Fine," Steph said, defiantly hopping up on the table, "I'll do it." She lay down and stuck her tongue out, pretending to be dead.

She seemed to take joy in messing with him.

Wonder how she'd like it.

A devious grin replaced the fear on Danny's face. And he disappeared into the floor.

_______

She laid down on the dissection table. It was so cold that she wrapped her exposed arms over her stomach. She stuck her tongue out so he wouldn't notice her discomfort. It would be so embarrassing if she managed to make a fool out of herself in front of the only other person her own age.

She looked back to where Danny had been standing, but he was gone. She must have scared him off... like she always does.

She sits back up, her charismatic smile fading, and the lights flickered.

But then the lights flicker. There's a rattling from the office. Footsteps. And if she concentrates enough, breathing.

She gets down from the table, crosses her arms, and wishes she'd worn warmer clothes. "Who's there?" She demands.

"Who's there?" A haunting voice echoes, mocking.

Her heart races her eyes dart to various noises. No one is there. And then...

The lights go out.

The middle of an opperation room in a morgue, somehow, no longer feels like the best place to be.

She tries to run back to where she remembers the stairs to be, but then out of nowhere, just a head appears right in front of her.

"Boo!" It shouts, and she screams at the top of her lungs.

Then the lights turn back on, revealing the same boy from earlier. Head and body.

It takes her a moment to catch her breath, and once she does, she yells.

"You're gonna need a coroner when I'm done with you!" She threatened, but her tough words can't disguise the look of utter delight.

"I told you, nothing good happens in basements." Danny teases with a mischievous smile.

Funny. She could have sworn his eyes were blue.

_______

@confused-they ,you were right. There was a ghost in the basement.

Thank you to @bespoke-nautilus for proofing

@ladyredmoon13 @ryuukthehatter @sonrium @niamcarlin @sunnysolaria @tiffanyhart13 @tkiesai @not-your-average-url

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Chapter 14: Don't Be A Bundt Cake

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV, Soldier Boy POV

Summary:  When you decided to work with Butcher and his merry band of supe hunters to take down Homelander, you never expected to be saddled with a sullen, grumpy, jerk like Soldier Boy when the job was done. The more you're around him the more you hate him, but you can't help but wonder, is he really as big a jerk as you think? Reader is a supe with plant powers. This takes place in an AU about a month after the end of The Boys Season 3, in which Butcher has let Soldier Boy continue to work with him on his team.  (I'm real bad at summaries, please forgive me!)

Tropes: Enemies to Lovers (Not in this chapter), Slow Burn, Age Difference (Reader is in her 20s), Soft Ben/ Soldier Boy, Protective Ben/Soldier Boy, Miscommunication Trope

Word Count: 13.1K

Warnings: I'm going to label this 18+ because Soldier Boy (he's a warning and everyone knows it), Swearing, Mentions of Sex, Sexual Innuendo, Talks of Death, DENIAL, Idiots in Love, Pining by the Reader (and SB, but he won't admit it) Depressing Thoughts, Mentions of sexual assault/rape (not detailed at all, really just in passing) Talks about weed, Sexist comments, Ben makes derogatory comments, Threatening Ben/Soldier Boy might be a little bit OOC.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

Spotify Playlist 🪴

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

A/N: I am so sorry this one took me a bit longer. The writers block was fighting me the whole way, but we are very closely nearing the end of this series and the moment the reader and Ben stop being so stinkin' stubborn.

Reader POV

You lean your forehead against the cool window, watching the world flash by in a flurry of color. The wooded forests had vanished hours ago and all that was left were the yellowed sprawling fields of corn and grain and family farms that were laid sporadically along the interstate. Each one a little world that caught the flecks of golden sunlight as the sun began to peak above the horizon.

The bus rolled smooth and steady over the weathered pavement towards it's destination and was filled with an odd assortment of people young and old. There was man with a brightly colored parrot that had been singing "It's A Small World After All" since you left NYC, a woman with a little boy playing with an iPad and who refused to turn down the volume no matter how many times his mother asked him to, a group of teenagers a few seats up that continued to pass around a flask, and due to how far back you were sitting on the bus an uncomfortable smell emanated from the bathroom each time the door was opened.

But you didn't notice any of it.

The only thing on your mind were the events that happened almost twenty hours ago. They continued to circle your mind, playing over and over again like a perverted cassette tape making you sink further into the worn cloth covered seat at the back of the bus. The images were haunting, some new and some old, but all the more still horrible to re-live.

The song "Nights In White Satin" floating into the backseat of your family's car, the flash of unnatural light you knew was never lightning, the caskets at your parent's funeral covered in flowers that were much to pretty to lay on something so morbid, Elijah's body succumbing to the poppies that ripped him apart, the proud sneer on your brother's face when he admitted to killing your parents, Darren's broken and bloodied body strewn in pieces over the street with the creature standing over him with a dripping red maw, the ruined building that housed "Please Don't Die" reduced to nothing more than rubble, and the look on Ben's face when you turned your back on him and fled the scene.

For some reason that particular image seemed to cling on to you and refused to fade. You'd never seen him look that way, almost… helpless and a little fearful. In all the time you'd known him, Ben had never looked at you that way. Sure you'd seen him proud, angry, cocky, lustful, mischievous, but never fearful. And you were sure that it wasn't an emotion that he was used to feeling, but that begged the question… why?

Why was he looking at me like that? Why wouldn't he let me go? And what was he afraid of?

The creature curled in your lap snorts something in it's sleep, turning it’s head further into the cradle of your elbow to shut out the brilliant early morning sunlight. It was now the size of a toaster and had warranted several odd looks whenever you got off to change buses, but you didn't care.

You weren't sure about anything anymore. Everything your brother confessed to you made you feel like you were living a lie and the revelation of exactly what your powers could do- take life from plants to heal yourself, create whatever the hell it was on your lap, and speak to plants… it scared you.

You thought for so long that you knew everything about your powers, that you were in control, but now you weren't sure.

You felt different, as if something had unlocked deep down that you couldn't shut up again.

You'd felt different after you killed Elijah, but this was more alive, weaving and twisting in the pit of your stomach. You felt more connected to the earth, to the world outside the bus even though you were divided by glass and metal. You could feel the energy that thrummed through the body of the creature on your lap, bending to your will, the life force of the plants it was formed from molding with you, becoming a part of you.

You felt so different than the person you had been before Darren entered the shop, so uncertain, and there was only one place you wanted to be when you felt like this… home. You couldn't wait to run up the worn front steps of your grandmother's house and into her arms. She always knew what to say in times like this.

And you desperately needed the comfort of her embrace.

The phone in your pocket buzzes again and you flip the screen to see the ridiculous selfie Annie and you had taken on Halloween last year. The one that you'd both spent dressed up as the two brothers from your favorite paranormal tv show. It wasn't the first time she'd called. Annie had called and texted you more times than you could count over the past twenty hours but you didn't answer her. You didn’t want to.

It was the first time that you didn't want to talk to her, but talking to her meant that you'd have to re-live all of it again and you were clawing at the last shred of sanity you had left to keep it together.

The overwhelming waves of emotion kept pummeling you, dragging you deeper beneath the white surf. Each one brought the memories of what happened surging over you and were followed by everything that Darren said to you. Years of taking care of Darren and doing whatever he wished were tearing at your soul, years of giving up little things in your life to make him happy, and years of taking care of a man who you thought cared about you, but hated you enough to kill your parents and try to kill you too.

It made your skin crawl. Each time your brother told you that he loved you was an even bigger lie and now that you knew the truth and saw him for what he was, it felt like you were drowning. The darkness that ebbed just on the edge was begging you to leap into the abyss, but you were resisting the best you could.

The tears had stopped falling miles ago, but you couldn't stop the memories or the emotion that formed a cold ball in the pit of your stomach.

A sigh works it's way up and you pull your legs on the seat underneath you, jostling the creature on your lap that raises it's head for a moment to blink it's black eyes at you sleepily.

It was surprisingly docile right now, especially considering that twenty hours ago it had ripped your brother to shreds. In fact it seemed to understand how upset you were and had spent the better part of the last twenty hours rubbing it's head against your arm as if trying to bring you some comfort. It was settled on your lap, the weight of it a comfort, almost like a weighted plushy that gave you something to focus on.

"It's alright buddy." You whisper, scratching him under his chin. "We're almost home."

The phone in your jacket pocket buzzes again, but when you pull it out to turn it off, you catch a glimpse of the screen, and you hesitate. Because this time it's not Annie who's calling, it’s Ben.

The picture that flashes on the screen under the contact name "Gramps" is the picture of Mr. Fredrickson from Up. It always made you smile whenever he called you and you saw the picture because Ben did often remind you of him. He was certainly just as grumpy as Mr. Fredrickson and just as out of touch, but you thought it was cute.

Your thumb hovers over the answer button and you think about talking to him.

But what would I say?

You weren't sure what to say to him, or why you wanted to speak to him so badly, why you wanted him to be sitting here on the bus with you as you went home, and why you wanted him to hold you against his chest while you allowed yourself to break, but you did. You wanted to feel his awkward shoulder pat and his awkward version of hand holding and you wanted to hear him try to tell you to "buck up" or whatever he thought that a comforting word should be.

He's really not the best at that.

You smile to yourself at the memory of how he tried to comfort you back at the hospital, but the longer you sit there and look down at the picture on the screen the worse you feel.

Maybe that scared you more than your newfound powers, how much you were realizing that you needed him, how much you depended on him when things got too much for you to bear. The memory of him appearing as soon as you needed him back at the shop, another of him grabbing Darren and throwing him into the street as soon as Darren insulted you comes in a flash, and finally followed by the memory of Ben carrying you out of Elijah's office while you curled into his chest. You couldn't remember too much from that moment, in fact you'd thought that Ben had kissed you on top of your head, but you ascribed that to the haze of pain you'd been in from your broken arm.

What you did remember was how wonderfully warm he was after you'd been trapped in that damn freezer and how nice it felt to be in his arms. Another memory of Ben sleeping on the couch at the hospital bubbles up and you feel something in your chest begin to crack open. And you try your best to tell yourself the same thing that you always do when you feel like Ben might care more about you that he was letting on.

Ben doesn't want that. He's made it perfectly clear. He doesn't want a relationship. He's only wants one night, that's why he goes out with all those women-

You hesitate, thumb still hovering over the answer button as you do, the memory of the week you'd spent at the apartment with him flickering in the back of your mind. The week where he refused to leave you alone in the apartment, where he refused to do any jobs for Butcher, where he took care of you the best way he could, when he sat with you on the couch and made you laugh with his ridiculous movies, and the week where he hadn't had one date.

Your finger itched to answer the phone, but you couldn't, because you didn't want to feel this way about Ben, not when he'd told you countless times that you kept romanticizing him, not when he told you that he didn't want a relationship, and not when you could feel yourself beginning to fall for someone you thought was the wrong man.

For just a moment you tried to pretend that it was different, that he was different, but you didn't want to. It only made it hurt more.

The phone stops ringing, but the pit in your stomach still gapes open at you and for the first time in twenty hours you feel tears begin to fall. You didn't know why you were crying about this, why the thought of not picking up Ben's phone call seemed to hurt more than everything that had happened, but something made it hurt.

The bus driver announces over the overhead that you're reaching your final destination as he takes the exit for your hometown. The familiar buildings that line the streets are sheathed in a honeyed glow from the sun, the long shadow of the bus darkening them momentarily as it rumbles down the small streets to the bus station.

When it rumbles to a stop at the bus station you wait for everyone else to get off, trying to summon the strength to stand, and swipe the back of your hand across your face to rid yourself of the remaining tears.

The bus station was about a thirty minute walk from your grandmother's house, and you still hadn't called her. You didn't know what to say, didn't know how to tell her that Darren was dead and that he was the reason why your parents were dead.

The creature crawls up your body to drape it's warm body over the back of your neck as you stand. It wasn't bothering to hide, besides the people in your hometown already thought that you were odd because you were a supe and you'd always welcomed it. You give him a scratch on top of his head and his warm tongue flicks on the bottom of your earlobe as if thanking you before it curls further into the side of your neck, seeking warmth.

The first few steps on solid ground are shaky, but you find the strength while taking in a deep cleansing breath of the outside world, letting the gentle warmth of the sun and the tickle of the autumn breeze pull at your coat. You hadn't stopped at your apartment before coming here, instead you had stumbled your way to the bus station covered in dust, flecked in blood, and demanded the first ticket back to Illinois. It was lucky that the next bus was leaving immediately, because you didn’t want to spend another second in NYC, not when all you wanted was to be home.

Plus you were worried that someone had recorded what exactly happened outside the plant shop and you didn't want to get arrested.

It was self defense anyway. Maybe Jake would represent me in court.

The thought of Jake makes you twinge. You hadn't checked to see if he was alright before you ran from the scene. Not to mention you'd destroyed the shop he'd put all his life savings into after he stopped being a lawyer.

Oh fuck, what if he sues me? He can't exactly sue Darren…

You hear someone call your name and you open your eyes.

Your grandmother is standing in front of the same baby blue pickup truck that she'd had longer than you've been alive, wearing a long multicolored skirt and a pressed white blouse tucked elegantly into it. Her silver hair is loose and long, curling over her shoulders in gentle waves. She looks the same way she looked one week ago when she left, and you've never seen anything so beautiful in your life.

You're running before you can stop yourself, crumbling into her warm embrace, with more tears streaking down your face, but she doesn't mind.

"Shh. It's alright honey." She whispers, rubbing her hand over your back, her embrace steady and surprisingly strong. "Let's go home."

Her home is the same as it's always been. A two story Victorian house painted in a happy yellow shade, with a white wrap around porch and two white rocking chairs sitting empty on the front porch. You'd spent more nights than you could count rocking silently beside her with a crochet project in your lap listening to the rain fall and soak the world outside, while the plants sang praises with every gentle bend beneath the heavy droplets.

You could barely remember the home you spent in your early years with your parents, not when you'd spent most of your childhood spending the night here and after your parents died living here permanently. There was still a large oak tree were a wooden swing swung in the slight breeze on the left side of the yard, a gardenia bush that stretched as high as the second story on the right side of the house and brushed it's soft leaves against the sunshine colored outer walls, a garden filled with both flowering plants and herbs that perked up on both sides of the front yard as you walked up the path, and a cobblestone path that Annie and you had spent hours of your shared childhood covering in chalk art.

Neither of you were good, but when the rain would fall and smudge the clean lines, you'd jump in the puddles that pooled along the walkway singing the lyrics to ABBA's "Cassandra" not quite understanding what it meant.

Standing here outside your house made you miss Annie and feel worse about not calling or texting her back, but you didn't feel like talking about what happened and you were sure that Butcher filled her in. The only thing that you wanted was to collapse in your bedroom upstairs and curl under the comforters.

Despite everything the house was a welcome sight, but at the same time it was different. You could feel the plants calling out to you, asking for you, bending towards you just to touch your shoes as you walked by. You'd never felt so connected with them before, not even when you were in your apartment or working at the shop.  It was overwhelming.

And although a part of you was frightened by it, another part of you rejoiced in it. You didn't feel alone, didn't feel weak, and you knew that you never would ever again.

The creature nuzzled into the side of your neck with a sigh, soaking up the sun's healing rays as you walked up the front steps with your grandmother following behind you silently. She hadn't spoken since she picked you up at the bus station and you hadn't supplied anything in the ten minute car ride back to her house.

You didn't know where to start and you were still trying to process everything yourself.

The inside of her house was just as cozy and warm as it was the day you moved out. There were photos of your parents and you covering the walls (Darren's had been placed in the closet long ago), half-finished knitting projects sorted in different baskets on both the dining room table and the living room coffee table, spools of yarn were strewn over the couch sorted by color, and the fresh smell of gardenia wafted through the open windows on the breeze.

It was home. This was what you'd been missing the moment everything began to crash over you, but as you stood there in the familiar living room it felt like something was missing. Something tugged at the back of your mind, but you couldn't put your finger on it.

There was something or rather someone that should be here, but you didn't know what or who. And your mind supplied Annie, but you weren't sure that's who you meant.

"Let's have some tea." Your grandmother says from behind you and you feel her soft hands come down on your shoulders to steer you through the familiar creative chaos and into the large kitchen at the back of the house.

The kitchen isn't spared from the madness, it rarely was. There are boxes upon boxes of cookies in different stages of being packaged all over the counter, dirty bowls and a measuring cup stacked in the sink, and a large opened bag of chocolate chips spilling over the flour covered kitchen island.

It wasn't unusual to find the kitchen or the house in a state of chaos, your grandmother always said that a house should look lived in and that the mess was part of the fun of any major project as long as you were responsible enough to clean it up.

"Bake sale?" You ask as you sit down in the breakfast nook, uttering the first words that you'd said to another human being in twenty hours.

The next breath that you inhale was supposed to be cleansing, but you can still feel a weight pressing down on your chest, the same one that settled in the moment everything happened with Darren.

You contemplate again how you're going to tell her that Darren is dead and was the reason why your parents died.

Damn it Darren.

"Mhmm." She hums, filling the well used red kettle. "Annie's mother practically cornered me in the supermarket yesterday and begged me to make cookies. I love Annie, but her mother needs someone to pull that stick out of her ass. It's been up there for so long that I'm sure it's rotten."

The creature crawls down from your shoulders and down your arm to sniff at one of the chocolate chip cookies nearest you. It hadn't eaten since…

Darren.

You wince slightly at the thought and hope that you hadn't created something that needed and craved human flesh. The last thing you wanted to unleash on the world was Audry two especially in the wake of Homelander.

Truthfully you were waiting for the guilt at killing your brother to come, but it never had and you wondered if it ever would.

Probably not. He deserved that, he killed our parents, he tried to kill me, he tried to kill Ben.

The thought of Ben again makes a lump form in the back of your throat. You didn't know what was happening to you only that you felt guilty for leaving him like that, for yelling at him to let you go, and just vanishing on him when he probably thought that you were going back to the apartment.

He doesn't know where I am. Maybe that's why he tried to call, because he got back to the apartment and couldn't find me there and he was worried. You press your lips together. Yeah. Worried. Right.

"Honey?" Your grandmother says in a soothing voice

You look up from the box of chocolate chip cookies that you didn't remember picking up. Even the creature is looking at you with an expression that you can only explain as worry.

"Yeah?" Your voice shakes slightly.

She's leaning back against the counter, arms crossed over her chest, head tilted slightly to the side, her beautiful grayed hair pulled up in an elegant bun, but in her eyes you can see genuine concern. "Fuck." She sighs after a minute.

You blink in surprise. It was the first time that you'd ever heard her say that word in your entire life.

"I shouldn't have left." She breathes. "I told Ben to look out for you. I told him, that little bastard was bound to show up again and what did he do? He left you at that plant shop alone with no protection!"

You'd only seen her really angry a handful of times in your lifetime. Like you, your grandmother often had a gentle disposition and didn't get angry unless the situation called for it.

I mean, Darren admitted to killing our parents and then got fucking ripped apart. But how does she know about any of that? I haven't told her…

"How did you know that he left me there? Did Ben call you?" You ask putting down the box of cookies.

An odd expression crosses her face, as if she's contemplating something. "No." She hesitates again. "I saw it."

"No." Your grandmother hesitates. "I saw it."

"You saw it?" You repeat, confused.

What's going on?

"Too late of course, but I'm a little rusty. I was able to warn Ben that Darren was coming back. That's how he got there so quickly or rather-" She shrugs sheepishly. "He got there in time to make sure that Darren didn't get you to forgive him. Which you shouldn't have at all, but I know he's always had a talent for manipulating you."

"What?"

Is she saying what I think she's saying?

Instead of explaining further your grandmother walks out of the kitchen, leaving the kettle behind on the stove and you in a state of utter confusion.

Is she saying that she can see the future? Because that would mean that she's a supe and there's only one supe in history that I know of that can do that. A supe that no one has seen in over forty years.

You can hear her open the door to the closet under the stairs and the sound of her sifting through all the junk that the two of you had shoved in there over the years instead of finding the right place to put it.

When she comes back into the kitchen, she's holding a giant cardboard file box that you'd never paid attention to each time you opened the closet to find something. Your eyes shift from the box to her still not comprehending exactly what she was saying.

"I probably should have told you this a while ago, but…" She trails off and nods her head at the box before turning back to the kettle on the stove that has begun to scream. "I kept putting it off."

The box is old, worn at the edges, and theres a musty black fabric beneath a collection of yellowed photographs. You pull out the one on top to examine it.

Ben is standing there in his full Soldier Boy regalia outside of Vought tower and the woman standing next to him is Soothsayer. The outfit she wore was familiar, a black-skin tight suit with a blind fold tied over her eyes.

Soothsayer was a supe who could see the future and who was apart of Payback, a supe that had vanished a year before the mission in Nicaragua and no one knew where she went. There were rumors that she'd died and that she'd been a Russian spy, but you'd never believed them. You'd heard Butcher talk about how he tried to find her when he was trying to figure out what happened to Soldier Boy, but he never had. Said that the trail went cold.

But now you knew where she went, because she was standing directly in front of you.

She's Soothsayer? Holy fuck that's why Ben kept accusing her of cheating in the poker game because he knew that she could see the future.

"You were Soothsayer?" You gasp. "But why didn't you say anything? Why didn't you tell me?"

She continues to measure the tea leaves. "I didn't tell anyone."

"Grandpa didn't know? But he was alive when you were a supe?"

Your grandfather had never spoken about a history with supes that you remember.

"No." She turns to look at you, a hurt expression crossing over her face for a minute. "Well, I know that I said I was going to have tea, but if we're going to talk about this I'm going to need something a little bit stronger."

Your grandmother opens a cabinet under the stove an pulls out an enormous bottle of scotch. Truth be told you'd never seen her drink more than just a glass of wine, to see her like this was about as shocking as seeing a polar bear sunning itself on a Florida beach.

"Do you still want the blueberry tea or do you need something a little stronger?" She looks back over her shoulder at you as she pulls down a glass for herself.

"I think I need something stronger." You answer honestly.

Learning about everything Darren had done was one thing, but finding out that your grandmother used to be a famous supe and that she never told you about it was another thing. It was like looking at another person. You'd always loved your grandmother's gentle way, her care for her community and her family soft, but now you weren't sure you really knew who she was.

She sits down across from you and hands you a glass of the amber colored liquid. There's a heavy silence that hangs between the two of you as she tries to find a way to start. The photo of her and Ben is laying on top of what you realize is her uniform inside the box and she smiles down at the photo, just a little twitch at the corner of her lips.

"I met Ben when I was twenty three years old." She begins taking a sip from the glass. "Legend 'discovered' me. I had the injection of Compound V maybe two years before that, not when I was born, but I hadn't gotten popular. Other powers were much more flashy and by then there were so many heroes coming out of the woodwork that someone with the ability to see the future didn't seem as marketable."

There's something reflected in her blue eyes, the same eyes your father had, that you can't place. "I had just moved to New York, I had no money, and the way I was getting it was by pretending to be a fortune teller and betting on some sports events on the side. It wasn't hard to prove that I could see the future, the past was more difficult, but Legend somehow stumbled into my shop and figured out that I was a supe. And he didn't think I was too bad looking so he helped me get big."

"You pretended to be a fortune teller?"

She snorts into her glass. "Mhmm. People really will believe anything if they're desperate enough and back then there was so much turmoil going on with Russia that people were scared and wanted to feel comforted. My job provided some of that."

"But why did you walk away from it if you were such a big hero." You ask. "Everyone knew your name, you were-"

Your grandmother raises an eyebrow at you and you fall silent so she can continue. "When I got onto Payback that's when everything exploded for me, the films, the commercials, the ridiculous ads." She sighs. "That's also when I met Ben."

You take a sip from the glass in front of you, sputtering slightly. It was stronger than you were expecting. "And you two were-"

Please don't say dating, please don't say dating, please don't say…

"Friends. Just friends." Diana sits back against the back of the breakfast nook, sinking into the navy blue pillows. "But he is almost as charming now as he was then."

You cringe at the thought of Ben coming on to a younger version of your grandmother.

She taps her glass with her index finger deep in thought. "But I think that I was the only person that Ben actually talked to, the only person that he was comfortable being around."

"What do you mean?" You ask confused. "Didn't he talk to Countess and to Legend?"

Her expression hardens at the mention of Countess's name. "He didn't talk to her the way he talked to me. Ben is difficult, he always has been and I think that most of the people he meet him write him off as this asshole with a chauvinistic look on the world, but he's not. At least, not all the time. There are so many people that he's met that are never willing to take a chance on him. To trust that there is really something beneath all of that bravado."

It was what you had been thinking for the past week, that there was more to Ben than he was willing to let people see, but you were slowly realizing that Ben was letting you see those parts. In the quiet moments at your shared apartment when he sat with you while you read or made you laugh or walked you to and from work you saw another side of Ben that you never saw when he was around anyone else. The guilt rises again when you think of how you ran from him, how you turned your back and left him standing there to clean up your mess.

I shouldn’t have done that, but it was all just so overwhelming and I didn't want to talk to anyone.

"I think that Ben is the most loyal friend I ever had. No one ever seems to believe me when I say that. That we were just friends, but nothing happened between us."

"You didn't date? Or sleep together?" You ask cautiously. It was difficult to imagine Ben being friends with a woman and not having a sexual relationship with her.

Well. We're friends, but that's different.

The last thing you wanted to think about was Ben and your grandmother having sex.

I would need so much therapy after that. You sigh. Yeah, because after all the shit I've been through and found out about my life in the last twenty hours, the knowledge that Ben fucked my grandmother is what's going to push me over the edge.

"No." She shakes her head with a small smile. "About a week after I met Ben, I was running late to a movie shoot and I stepped off the crosswalk without looking. There was a car coming and I didn't see it. Ironic isn't it?" She laughs at herself. "I can see the future and I didn't see a car coming, but your grandfather did and he grabbed the back of my jacket and yanked me onto the sidewalk, saved my life. And the second my eyes locked with his I saw our future. I saw our wedding, our first house, I saw our son take his first steps and I saw how much I would love him and how much he would love me." She clears her throat for a minute, her fingers tighten on the glass, and her gaze drops to the wedding ring on her left hand. “The future is never set in stone, it’s fluid. It morphs and shapes with your decisions, but in the future I saw, I was so happy. And I didn’t want to lose that.”

Your grandfather had passed a few years ago, but you knew it weighed on her everyday. She had spent the week after he died in her room not saying anything to anyone. And sometimes she'd look out the window into the backyard with an odd expression, but you knew that meant she was thinking of him.

Growing up you'd seen how in love the two of them were, more so than your parents. Seen the flowers your grandfather always brought home just because he was thinking of her, watched him do little things around the house without being asked, saw how they never walked away angry from one another, and seen the soppy expression he'd get when he watched your grandmother move around the kitchen baking with a grace that you'd never possessed.

You reach across the table to touch her hand and she takes it gratefully.

"I didn't want to tell him that I was a supe, and at the beginning I thought I could balance it all, but then Ben started dating Countess." She takes another sip from her glass. "She hated me."

"What? Why?" You ask. The creature crawls across the table to sniff at the glass in front of you, before it snorts and falls into your lap, curling into a ball.

"Countess was a bitch." Your grandmother says mirthlessly, her expression hardening. "She wanted to possess Ben completely. Only loved how famous he was, how popular it made her, and he threw himself at her feet, in his own way, not understanding that love didn’t look that way. He’s never had a good example of it in his life. And she never understood that Ben and I were just friends. By then I had been dating your grandfather for a few months and things were getting serious. It was about a year before everything that happened in Nicaragua."

She presses her lips together as if remembering what happened to Ben there. "She was jealous, possessive, and she came to me one night. Ben was out of town for a film so she knew we wouldn’t be interrupted. She threatened to tell your grandfather who I really was and threatened to kill him.” Her jaw sets. “My powers were never really as offensive as hers were. And she said that Ben wouldn’t ever protect me over her because he loved her and would do anything to make her happy. So I left and I never looked back.”

And here I thought I couldn't hate Countess any more than I did for what she did to Ben.

“You didn’t talk to him ever again?” You wonder out loud.

She left without telling him goodbye?

“There was the occasional phone call. Sometimes Ben would ask me to see who was going to win a ball game or something so he could make a few bucks. He stopped by to say hi a few times because he was in the neighborhood. One time he brought your father a baseball glove that was way too big for a one year old.” She snorts, the memory flashing in her eyes. “I always thought Ben would be a good dad some day. But I think seeing your father was when Ben realized how much he wanted to have kids. And I think seeing the way your grandfather treated me made him start to feel conflicted about Countess. But he respected that I walked away, he saw that I was happy.”

“But what about Nicaragua?"

A dark look crosses her face followed by something that looks suspiciously like guilt. “I saw what they were going to do to him.”

“What? But why didn't you tell him what they were planning? Why didn't you-"

"I tried." She snaps, shoulders tense, but then they drop. "I called Ben, but Stan answered. By then your father was turning two, your grandfather had opened up his practice, and Stan threatened me, he knew where we were and knew everything about us. So I kept my mouth shut and I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.”

You could feel your heart breaking for her.

Ben was her best friend and she had to sit by and watch them do that to him. She saw what they were going to do and they were going to kill her for it, kill my family for it.

The anger that surges in your chest makes the creature in your lap stir and grow a few inches, but you tamp it down before it gets bigger than a small dog.

“Does Ben know?” You ask her to distract yourself.

You didn't want Ben to hate your grandmother for this, didn't want him to hate her for something that wasn't her fault.

She nods. “Yes. I told him everything.”

“When?”

“The moment I saw him in your hospital room. I couldn’t keep it in any longer. I wasn't expecting him to be there, but it all poured out of me. I was so surprised to see him there. I hadn't seen a future where he came back."

“Was he mad?”

I mean… he didn't seem mad when I woke up, not to mention he was upset when she left to come back to Illinois.

“Not at me.” She shakes her head. “He knew how much I wanted a normal life and how much I loved your grandfather. He doesn’t blame me for any of it.”

“Good. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”

The glass in front of you is still more than half-full but you don't want to risk another sip of what you're sure is gasoline packaged to look like Scotch. Your grandmother reaches to pour herself another glass.

“I didn’t want to until you were ready.”

“And when would that be?”

Your grandmother shrugs. “Maybe on my deathbed.”

You weren't angry for her not telling you, more surprised, but now that you knew everything about her it was hard to see her the same way you had.

 You snort. “And no one knew?”

“Your dad figured it out.”

“How? When?”

“The moment you made that strawberry plant grow from your high chair.” She shakes her head with a smile. “It skipped a generation. Don’t know why, but you got it all somehow.”

“I was never injected?”

“No. That was a lie your father created. He knew that your grandfather didn't know and he knew that I didn't want your grandfather to know."

“Darren thought I was.”

“I know.”

At the mention of your brother's name, you watch her expression harden and she takes another swig from the glass in front of her, not flinching as the liquid goes down her throat.

“Did you see everything that happened?” You ask in a small voice.

You still weren't 100% sure how it was her powers worked, but you figured that she was able to see some of what Darren did and what he said.

“Yes.”

“You heard everything Darren said?"

“Yes.”

You chew the inside of your cheek for a minute hoping that she didn't take it as hard as you did. “Did you know that he killed them?”

“No.” She breathes, rolling the glass between her hands for a moment. “The night they died, I got a vision a few minutes before the car ran off the road. I was the one who called the police and who told them where to look, but I never saw that it was Darren or that it was anyone causing the accident. All I saw was the three of you in the car. I should have known.” Her voice breaks.

“It’s not your fault.” You squeeze her hand.

“And it’s not yours either.” She squeezes your hand back.

The memories are beginning to float up from the recesses of your mind and your teeth clench together as you try to keep them at bay.

“I know.” You breathe. The memory of the ruined shop flashes through your head. “I didn’t know that I could do something like that.” You gently touch your healed right arm and glance at the creature that is nibbling on the edge of the cardboard box with its sharp splinter-like teeth. “I feel so different and I don’t know how to go back to the way I was.”

“I don’t think you ever will.”

"Really?"

The thought was unwelcome. You were hoping that all of this was going to blow over, but you knew it wouldn't. Your powers had changed. There was an energy that thrummed in your veins now, stretching out of the house to the plants that grew in the garden. You could feel them all if you concentrated.

She frowns. “When you told me that you were working for Butcher I was worried about you getting involved in the supe world. I didn’t want that life for you, didn’t want you to suffer the way I did-“

“Was it really that bad?"

“Not all the time, just at the end. But I think that’s why I loved your grandfather so much. Because he was different than all the supes. He was down to earth, not just normal but-“ She shrugs. “I think Compound V does something to our minds, makes them more susceptible and when you’re surrounded by people using their powers and thinking that they’re gods it’s easy to lose who you are. I was glad I left when I did."

“Great." You huff, thinking about how your powers had grown exponentially since you killed your brother. It was scaring you to think that you would reach a point where you acted like Homelander, where you saw yourself as a god and killed anyone who stood in your way.

As tired as the stereotype of you only being able to make the flowers grow, you liked doing that. You liked healing plants, tending to them, and helping them grow. For you it had never been about using your powers the way that you had to kill Elijah and your brother and had always been about spreading a little more joy and love like your grandmother did with her kindness in her community.

Your mind flashes back to the first night that Ben stayed with you in your apartment and he'd asked you why you worked for Butcher and told you that he thought you "didn't fit."

Before you hadn't. You knew that. You weren't intimidating to look at or fueled by revenge or had a bone to pick with supes. You'd joined because you thought it was the right thing to do and because you wanted to be closer with Annie. She had been so involved in the supe world and you'd felt like you were losing your best friend. When in reality being at "Please Don't Die" was the only thing that felt natural for you.

You could feel yourself changing and you weren't sure that you wanted to and you weren't sure if you were changing for the better. Deep down you still felt like you, despite everything Darren had revealed, but your powers were greater than you'd thought they could be.

“No.” She squeezes your hand pulling you out of your head. “I don’t see you losing yourself in this.”

“You’ve seen-“ Your eyes widen.

“The future yeah.” Her lips twitch up at the ends in a smile. “It is what I do.”

“That’s so weird.”

You hadn't meant to say it, but you really didn't want to know too much about your future.

Well, not all that much. Maybe just a little.

“You of all people have no right to judge what’s weird. Not with Godzilla sitting in your lap.”

"Godzilla" yawns, flashing a mouthful of his pointy teeth, before settling back down on your thighs.

You smile for the first time in twenty hours, but then it drops. “I don’t like losing control. I thought I knew who I was but now I don’t-“ The emotions were bubbling up again, chest tightening, and lungs beginning to gasp for air. “I don’t know who I am anymore or what I am or what I can do and-“

“There’s nothing wrong with not being in control.”

“But what if I hurt someone? What if I kill-“ You body shakes as you think about all the important people in your life, Annie, Hughie, Butcher, Kimiko, MM, Frenchie- and then your mind stutters on Ben.

“Your powers are growing and there’s nothing to be afraid of or ashamed of. If you’re afraid of them it won’t get easier for you. You have to embrace the fear to see the lights that line the path through it.”

"I killed Darren, I killed Elijah-"

"Not because you lost control. You did it because you were protecting yourself and protecting your friends."

"But-"

"Who is it that you're scared of hurting? Annie?" Her expression turns sympathetic. "Annie is a supe and understands what it's like to lose control. None of us are in control all the time and it's ridiculous to believe that you won't lose control at least once."

Your throat clenches tightly, because when she asked the question you didn't see Annie's face, you saw Ben's. You knew that it was probably ridiculous to worry about hurting a guy with a nuclear reactor stuffed in his chest or a guy who'd been through every torture known to man, but you were. And you weren't entirely sure if you meant hurting him with just your powers.

Tears crest and fall down your cheeks as you sit there, throat thickening. "I don't want to hurt Ben."

"He's a little more indestructible than us sweetie." She cracks a smile, but you can't smile back and you don't answer because you're unsure how to.

She sits back against the breakfast nook and sighs, examining your face and slowly realizes what you mean. "Ben is complicated. He always has been. I like to think that most of it, is his father's fault. Has he told you anything about him?"

You shake your head.

"He was a dick. Made Ben think that he was a disappointment his whole life. I don't think that Ben has had someone love him unconditionally since his mother died. And loving Countess only made it worse for him. Her love was jealous, possessive, and I don't think that he's really come to terms with what real love should look like." She lets out a breath, tapping her index finger against the glass. "I never saw him as more than a friend, but I do love him. It's not a crime to love him."

"I don't love him." You say it immediately.

"Why not?"

"What?" You sputter. "I don't know what you're-"

"Tell me why you don't love him." Your grandma says methodically, as if she's trying to talk you through it.

"Because I-" The pressure was back in the back of your throat and you couldn't quite meet her eye. "Because-" You scramble for the answer, trying your darndest to keep your heart from clenching in your chest. "I want what you and grandpa had, what Annie and Hughie have, and what my parents had. A strong relationship with someone who sees all my flaws, the little parts, and the darkness and still choses to fall in love with me anyway. I don't want just one night I want every night. I want something real and Ben has said countless times that he-"

"So you've talked about it with Ben?" She raises an eyebrow.

"Only because he kept trying to sleep with me and I told him that I didn't want to have sex with him." You reply exasperated.

"You don't?"

"Gran!"

"What? He's attractive."

"It doesn't matter. None of it does. Because Ben has said that he doesn't have relationships, that he doesn't care about feelings, or emotions." Saying the words that Ben had told you countless times made something inside begin to shrivel up and die. "And I do. And I don't want to manipulate him into being something he's not or force him into a relationship that's doomed from the beginning. Ben is Ben. He's not changing or-"

"He has." She interrupts.

"What?"

"The Ben I saw in your hospital room is not the one I knew." She says it so matter of fact that makes it hard to breathe. "And neither was the one that I saw in your apartment when I stayed with you. I mean he is in essence Ben, but-"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"He is changing. Not completely, but he's acting differently than when he was with Countess. I mean, I saw all the things he did for her. The way he was around her."

"Why does that matter?"

"Because he loved her."

The words make your heart seize in your chest. "Ben doesn't love me. He's my roommate and my friend-" It was the same thing that you kept telling yourself on repeat to beat back the other feelings that you hadn't quite identified yet. "And he's told me that he doesn't want a relationship and that I should try to meet other people."

That last part was a lie, but you honestly didn't know where she was going with this conversation or why it was getting so hard to breathe.

"Have you thought that maybe Ben doesn't want to love you because he's scared?"

"He doesn't love me and Ben isn't afraid of anything."

"He is. It might not look the same way on him as it does on everyone else, but if you pay close enough attention you can catch it." She hesitates. "And I think if you pay attention to you, you'll see what it is that you're afraid of too."

What does she mean? What the hell am I afraid of? Ben isn't afraid of anything, he's practically shouted that from the mountaintops like Julie Andrews.

"I already told you what I'm afraid of."

"I'm not talking about you hurting someone honey. There's something else that you refuse to admit to yourself because you're scared." She smiles sadly at you. "You should though, because when you embrace it, what comes after is really beautiful." There's a far off look in her eyes and you realize that she'd seen something further ahead that she wasn't letting on.

"And it's all I want for you. To be happy." Your grandmother stands from the other side of the booth "I think you need some rest. You drove all night long and I doubt you got any sleep. And I have to package all of these before Annie's mother calls down the four horsemen of the Apocalypse on me."

"Wait-"

"Please sweetie." She lays her hand down on your arm. "I think you'll feel a little better about all of this when you've had some rest." Her fingers raise to push back some of the hair that's fallen forward into your eyes. "Hmm?"

You didn't want to rest, you wanted to talk about this, but you knew better than to argue with her. Not to mention she was right, you hadn't slept.

"And when you wake up I'll make your favorite for dinner, alright?" She smiles, but there's something behind it that you can't place.

"Okay."

And this time you don't argue with her. You go up the worn staircase that you have your entire life and collapse onto your bed, wondering exactly what it was she saw your future hold, and what it is that you won't admit to yourself.

Soldier Boy POV

There was no light in the apartment save from the burning red tip of Ben's blunt and the bluish glow emanating from the tv that caught the dips and sharp edges of his face. But it was nothing more than background noise.

His hand absentmindedly stroked along Bean's back, his eyes focused on the ceiling above the couch. He hadn't moved in hours. It had been over twenty four hours since everything that happened at the plant shop, since you'd summoned a creature from the depths of the store, since Darren had thrown Ben through the plate glass windows of the bakery, and since Ben had last seen you.

He didn't understand why you hadn't let him take you back to the apartment and why it was that you had to leave. Ben hadn't liked the feeling that stabbed him in the chest when you turned your back on him and ran away. He'd felt the urge to comfort you the way he'd watched Hughie do for Annie in the car a week ago, but you hadn't let him.

Instead all he'd done is stood there and watched you run, still covered in dust, rubble, and blood. Worse was you hadn't let him check you for injuries and Ben hated the thought that you were hurt somewhere and he didn't know where you were.

You were so much more fragile than he was. He was realizing that more every day, was acutely aware of it after everything that happened with Elijah. Honestly, sitting there in the hospital with you laying there asleep with nothing that he could do, but wait for you to wake up had been agony. Not to mention that looking at the bruises around your throat, over your eye, and the bright green cast only made him feel worse. He'd never felt so helpless in his entire life and he hated it. Because Ben wasn't some helpless damsel in distress, he was a man and a man shouldn't wait on anyone or feel out of control, or at least, that's what he told himself.

Ben hears someone walk down the hallway outside the apartment and he perks up to listen, hoping that it's you finally coming home. Ben's mind stutters on the word "home." He'd lived many places in his life, apartments that felt more like way-stations, and the drafty cold mansion back in Philadelphia where he grew up, but neither felt like home. And although he hated how small your apartment was, it was the first place that Ben liked living in. He was starting to understand the word home.

But the feet keep moving past the apartment and Ben sinks into the couch cushions. Even Bean seems to be disappointed. "It's alright buddy." Ben mutters. "She'll come back."

But he wasn't sure.

Ben also wasn't used to feeling this way. It was close to the way that he felt when he went to Boston and was sitting in that damn hotel room waiting for something to happen and he still didn't understand what it meant. He didn't understand why he couldn't stand it that you weren't back yet. It made him feel like a woman waiting for her husband to get home from work when he told her that he was "running late." He'd tried to distract himself by looking at some possible prospects on Tinder, but just like the week after you'd come home from the hospital and just like the date he had in Boston, no one held any appeal.

His mind was awake and roaming around, pacing back and forth. The blunt was supposed to help, but it hadn't.

His phone chirps and Ben picks it up to look at the screen, but it's not you, it's Jake.

Jake: I know that I'm not your favorite person, but thank you for what you did.

Ben huffs and turns his phone face down on the couch once more. "What a fucking pussy."

When you left Ben had realized that Jake was still inside the building and as much as he wanted race after you, he understood that you'd be even more upset if you'd killed Jake. So Ben had tromped back through the building and found him trapped beneath some rubble. Jake was okay, just unconscious, but Ben had carried him out and put him on the sidewalk before he high tailed it out of there. The last thing that he wanted was to be caught with a shredded body outside a ruined building.

I didn't do it for him. I did it for her. Ben thinks to himself, looking down at the text message.

As much as he hated the thought of saving your future boyfriend, he didn't want to see what it did to you if you found out that you killed Jake, so he'd done it to avoid watching you cry again.

Ben didn't understand why he hated watching you cry.

Women cry. They're damn emotional all the time. He tries to reason with himself taking a puff from the blunt pinched between his thumb and forefinger. And she fucking cries way too much.

The image of you crying outside of the shop in the wake of everything that happened pricks something under his ribcage. Fuck.

Ben didn't feel remorse for what happened, well, the only thing he regretted was not getting there sooner and getting to fuck Darren up himself. When Diana had called him to tell him that Darren was coming, Ben had practically ripped the apartment door off in his haste to get back to you. He hadn’t wanted to leave you at the plant shop, but Butcher had told Ben, that he had a possible location for Darren, but it came up empty and Ben had been at Butcher's apartment chewing him out for sending him on a fucking wild goose chase.

It only made Ben more angry to allow Darren to speak to you, but he was trying to let you handle it even though he wanted to handle him. But it had brought him an unholy amount of joy to throw Darren in front of that minivan and to watch that creature tear him apart while the final whitish blue pulses of electricity jumped and crackled down the street making the streetlights shower sparks everywhere.

But Ben was more upset that Darren had been able to land a few hits on you before you killed him.

Ben remembered the giant lizard that crawled out of what was left of "Please Don't Die" and felt his lips quirk up into a smile. As much as he hated the entire situation, Ben couldn't help but feel a little surge of pride at what you'd done to your brother. He'd never seen you look so powerful standing there in the street, your eyes glowing a brilliant green, arms outstretched, and the ground trembling around you as the world begged to be unleashed.

Of course he'd been just as surprised as you were at the fact that you'd healed your broken arm. He wasn't sure if you'd noticed it yet, but you looked different too. There weren't as many lines on your face and your hair was more springy, the few silver hairs that Ben had noticed in passing were no longer there.

He wasn't sure what that meant, but there was something that felt suspiciously like hope tingling in his stomach, hope that you weren't as fragile anymore and hope that it meant you wouldn't die.

When Diana had told Ben that her husband had died, he saw the pain in her eyes when she said it, saw her relieving the memory, and for some reason as soon as she said that he was dead, the first thing Ben thought about was you. Ben hadn't considered his inability to age as much in the past, hadn't cared about outliving anyone before. Seeing Countess as an older woman had made him more aware of it. Looking at the woman who he once thought he loved, had showed him what that was like. Not that he had a problem with daring older women, Ben always thought that women really did get better with age, but it was what came next that Ben wasn't fond of.

And for some reason thinking that one day he'd wake up and see the marks of age on your face or one day he'd wake up and he wouldn't be able to annoy you or hear you yell at him made his chest tight.

Ben takes another hit of his blunt. The longer he sat there the more then unnatural feeling stirred in the pit of his stomach, thrumming through his veins, the feeling that he was trying to avoid. He thought that the joint would calm him down, but he found himself jumping at every creak and footstep in the apartment building, perking up each time and hoping that it was you coming home.

He didn't know where you were. You hadn't answered any of his texts or calls and Ben was ashamed at how many times that he had tried to call you.

Get a fucking grip. He'd thought to himself when he typed out another text message to send you, stopping himself from sending it.

But he'd been so desperate to hear from you that he'd actually gone to talk to Annie who seemed upset that she couldn't get ahold of you either. When Hughie and Annie had seen how upset Ben had been, Hughie had laid his hand on Ben's arm and told him not to worry. Ben had yelled at him that he "wasn't fucking worried and to mind his own business" and had shaken off Hughie's comforting hand before stomping out of the shared apartment.

No one else seemed to be as concerned about finding you. Butcher, MM, and Frenchie were all deeply involved in trying to figure out the cover-up for what happened outside the plant shop. By some miracle no one had caught a picture of your face, but there was little they could do about Darren's body that had been strewn across the street. Annie was having to deal with the repercussions at work, trying to handle what the news was calling a "super villain threat."

Personally, Ben thought that since they froze Homelander, the Seven looked weak and Ben believed that the superhero team that represented America shouldn't look weak. Of course before Ben had also thought that they looked like a bunch of pussies and again felt himself sink deeper into the couch when he thought about what his supposed son had become.

He shakes off the feelings he has about it and his thoughts turn back inevitably to you.

Ben wasn't used to thinking about someone as much as he thought of you, but each time he settled back into the apartment and you weren't there he was hyperaware of how quiet it was.

Maybe I should call Diana. She might know where she is.

As soon as Ben thinks that, his phone begins to ring, but Ben doesn't bother to look at who it is before he answers it. 

"Hello?" Ben huffs out a breath of smoke that hangs in the air in front of his face, catching in the bluish light coming from the television.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" The voice on the other side of the line yells at him.

"Di?"

"Yes it's me. Who did you think it was? Santa Clause?" Your grandmother snarks.

"Why are you calling me and why the fuck are you so mad? What did I do?" Ben answers slightly annoyed.

As much as you got under his skin, your grandmother had been the same way. He actually thought that it was amusing that even before he figured out that she was your grandmother that he had often compared you to her in his mind. You had the same mannerisms, the same defiant and stubborn attitude that drove Ben up the wall, and you were just as beautiful as she was.

Ben was okay with admitting that he was attracted to you. To him that felt normal, it was the other feelings that he was conflicted about, the ones that he'd never felt before stirring in his chest that made him feel "too emotional" and "woman-like."

Truthfully, Ben was sure that if your grandmother had given him a shot that maybe he would have felt that way about her too. She was the only person that Ben actually trusted in the 80's, the only person that was brave enough to call him out on all his shit. You did that now. But he liked her husband also, so Ben was content with letting her go. He liked how happy that Henry, your grandfather, had made her. He knew that she wasn't happy as a supe and seeing her so happy and in love made Ben feel something that was close to happiness.

And it was seeing the way the two of them were together made Ben wonder if what he had with Countess was the same thing. Because he did have feelings about her that were different, but each time he went to visit Diana and saw your father playing on her lap he felt that there was something missing in his life.

It was the same way that he thought something was missing when you weren't in the apartment, but Ben hadn't realized that yet.

"Because I don't understand what the hell you're doing!" Diana replies and Ben honestly doesn't know why she's angry with him.

"About what?"

"My granddaughter."

Ben sits up the blunt in his fingertips forgotten. "Is she there with you?"

"Yes." Her voice softens for a moment.

Ben relaxes and leans back onto the couch, sighing in relief. "Good.  That's good." Relief swelled in his chest when he thought about you staying with her, safe.

That's what she meant when she said that she wanted to go home. Home is with her grandmother. Ben stopped the next thought before he could go there.

The thought that home wasn't with him.

Ben was trying not to think about that or think about you hating him. He didn't think you did, well, didn't think you did anymore. At first it really was touch and go, but now he was almost eighty percent sure after you'd told him more than once that you weren't afraid of him and didn’t hate him that you sometimes wanted him around.

"No, not good."

"What do you mean? Is she okay?" Ben's grip on the phone tightens so hard that he's sure that he hears the screen cracking.

"No."

"What happened?" Ben's voice is a growl, the feelings of relief evaporating as soon as they had begun to bloom in his chest. He mentally calculated how long it would take him to get to you.

"Her entire life fucking fell apart and where are you? Not here!"

Oh. Ben relaxed a little bit.

"I don't need to be there." He says on an exhale of smoke.

"Yes you do!" Diana presses.

"No, I don't. She a big girl she doesn't need me there, she's-" Ben takes a puff from the joint.

“If you were any denser you’d be a Bundt cake Benjamin!” She says exasperated.

"What the fuck are you talking about doll? I am not-"

“Let me guess." She interrupts and Ben can imagine her tapping her foot. He hated when she did that. "You’re moping around smoking a blunt on the couch probably with a glass of something that you're hoping to numb whatever the hell it is you're feeling."

Ben's eyes shift to the bottle of whiskey on the coffee table that he hadn't touched in a few minutes.

“I’m not fucking moping and stop spying on me!” He snaps back at Diana.

He hated how well she knew him. She was his best friend in the 80's through all the shit, she had seen him at his worst and at his best too many times to count.

“I don’t have to use my powers to know what you’re doing. I know you Ben.”

"Sorry to disappoint you sweetheart.” Ben grits his teeth, temper flaring hot. “But if you know me as well as you fucking say you do then you then you know that this is-“

“You avoiding your feelings by acting aloof and brooding like a fucked up version of Mr. Darcy.” She interrupts.

She certainly hasn't changed.

“I am not avoiding-“

“She needs you here Ben.” Diana stamps her foot, the same way you do when Ben pisses you off, and Ben can hear it.

“She doesn’t need me! She said that she wanted to go home, that she didn’t want to be here with me! I tried to-“ Ben shouts back standing up. It was the exact thing that he'd been thinking for the past twenty four hours, that you didn’t need him and that you didn't want to be any where near him.

That last thought made an uncomfortable sensation prickle in his gut when he thought it, because all it did was remind him of how you acted when the two of you first met, when you didn't want him to live with you and tried your darndest to make him go away.

He didn’t want to and he wasn't sure why that was.

“Try harder.” Diana interrupts him again and frankly it was pissing him off.

Ben clenches his jaw. “I think that you’ve confused me with someone else baby.”

“Don’t you 'baby' me Benjamin! We both know that you’re doing what you always do when things get hard for you.”

“And what’s that?”

“You pretend not to care and shut out everyone who tries to care for you. Not to mention you drown yourself in drugs, booze, and women.”

“She doesn’t care about me!” He spits.

“She does!” Diana snaps back. “And believe it or not she needs you here and she wants you here.”

"But-"

"Ben please." It was the first time that he'd heard Diana sound softer and almost pleading since the conversation started. "Don't do this to her. She's worth more than Countess and all those other women you've fallen into bed with."

"Do you really think I don't know that?" He roars. The answer surprises himself. "Do you think I don't know that she's different?"

Wait what?

"If you know that, then why aren't you here?"

He hesitates.

Everything you said to him the night of the party comes roaring back. You looking beautiful in a dress that made his throat tight, and you telling him that you just wanted to be friends and that you understood that he wasn't the type of guy to have relationships. He didn't understand why it stung a bit when you said that, but it had.

Ben thinks about the week that the two of you spent together after Diana went home, when he tried his best to take care of you, distract you from everything that happened with his movies, and would sit with you and try to make you laugh. He'd never wanted to take care of someone before.

Not to mention he kind of liked the way you laughed. He wouldn’t admit that to anyone, but each time you did, it made him want to laugh too. That had never happened to him before. But he wanted to make you laugh to forget everything that happened with Elijah. His fist clenches when he thinks of exactly what Elijah tried to do to you and it makes him feel so mad that he feels close to spontaneously combusting. Ben might not be the best role model when it came to women, but he couldn’t imagine the type of man who would force himself on someone else.

It had made him angry when he thought that you were suggesting that he would try something when he first moved in, because he wasn't that type of man.

Ben was trying to be better for you. He wasn't admitting that, but he really was trying to be better. He didn't understand why. You'd told him countless times that you didn’t want to be with him, that you wanted to be with someone else like Jake.

Ben frowns when he thinks about the man he'd pulled from the rubble of the shop. And again thinks to himself that you should be with someone different, someone who was a supe and could understand you. Ben had seen how difficult it was for Diana when she was keeping her supe life a secret from your grandfather and he didn't want you to have to do that with someone.

"Because I'm not-" Ben begins to say, but he holds his tongue. It was too honest, too raw, too unlike him to admit this to anyone.

Because I'm not this guy. Because I'm not the one she wants. Because I'm not some knight on a white horse. Because she's everything right with the world and I'm just a fucking asshole who sleeps on her couch.

"Ben." Diana breathes and he can practically hear her pinching the bridge of her nose. "In all the years I've known you, you've never done what you did for her with anyone else. You carried her out of that warehouse, you stayed with her in the hospital even after she woke up, you took care of her when she came home, you protected her from Darren. You can't ignore all those things."

"I'm not ignoring them. She's my friend." The word sours in his mouth as he says it. "And she would have done the same thing for me." He knew it was true.

She's a good person and she wouldn't let me chase her away if any of that shit happened to me and I told her to leave me alone.

"Yes she would. Because she cares about you." Diana sighs.

"She doesn't."

"Why don't you believe me?"

"Because she's told me what she wants!" Ben shouts so loudly he can feel the room shaking. "She wants to be friends-“

"Because she doesn't think that you want a relationship you nitwit!"

"I don't." Ben spits the words before he can stop them, but as he does something tightens at the base of his throat.

"How is it that it's been forty fucking years and you're still able to dance on the grave of my last nerve?"

Ben chuckles. "I missed you too sweetheart."

She sighs into the phone again making it crackle in Ben's ear. "She needs you.” Diana repeats. “And I think you need her too.”

His temper was flaring again, the thoughts that his father pressed into him surging up before he can stop the words. “I don’t need anyone. I’m Sol-“

“If you say that you’re Soldier Boy, I’m going to reach through this phone and slap you silly.” She snaps. “And you do need her, but you’re still just too stubborn to admit it.”

“I-“

“Ben I know that everything that happened with Countess was fucked up, but my granddaughter she-“ Diana pauses before she changes the thought.  “You say that you know she’s different, but right now you’re treating her the same way you treat all those other women.”

“I’m not-“

“My granddaughter has decided you’re important to her and once that’s happened it’s hard to make her let go. You saw the way she was with Darren and that guy was a manipulative asshole. Imagine what she thinks of you.”

“I-“

“Stop making excuses!”

“You didn’t even hear what I was going to say!” Ben shouts.

“And I don’t need to! Think what you want Ben but if you’d stop acting so stubborn and so ridiculously blind to what’s right in front of you. I promise that what comes next is worth the risk.”

“Don’t go all fucking mystical on me doll.”

“And don’t go all macho- no feelings asshole on me! So stop being so damn stubborn, get on a plane and get your ass here.” She retorts. “Don’t fuck this up Benjamin because if you do I’ll fuck you up.”

The line goes dead.

Ben sat there for a minute in the silence still holding the phone up to his ear, listening to what your grandmother said to him ring around in his head for a second.

No one ever spoke to him that way. In fact, Ben had never allowed anyone to speak to him the way that she did, well, not until you came along. You reminded him so much of her that it was astounding and he wasn't going to admit that maybe it's why he liked being around you so much.

Ben frowns at what Diana said, thinking about the unusual feelings that were swirling in the pit of his stomach. He felt wrong and the feelings were odd for him. He hadn't felt anything remotely like this ever in his life, not even for Countess.

And although Ben refused to be afraid of anything, the feelings he was having scared him. He didn’t understand and he wasn't sure that he wanted to. He wasn't sure that he wanted to see where this ended up. He felt like he was in too deep.

As much as he wanted to go to you like Diana ordered him to, he wasn't sure that he should. Something was holding him back, digging it's heels in and refusing to budge.

But why do I feel like-

His phone rings and he doesn't look at the caller ID when he picks up, expecting it to be Diana again, yelling at him.

"Di I-"

But it's not Diana.

"Hello Ben. It's nice to hear your voice again." The familiar voice says, sounding calm and collected.

"What the fuck do you want?" Ben snarls.

 "I thought it was time the two of us had a chat.”

A/N: At this point Diana is really just trying to give both Ben and the reader the kick in the pants they need. And yes I know another cliffhanger, but you know you love it. 🤭😉 We are quickly reaching the end of this series, but that means the confession scene is coming and I am so excited about it!!

As always thank you so much for reading! Reblogs, likes, and comments are not required, but are always appreciated. I love hearing what y'all think! If you'd like to be added to the taglist for this series let me know. 😊

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[bunni-v1]

Bunni that lighter x virgin reader was so GOOD??? YOUR BRAIN SO BIG?? it got me all embarrassed reading it, I had to take breaks in between cause the image of soft dom lighter is just so abgssngausgahstshh???? (I was also blasting ‘Like You Mean’ It by Steven Rodriguez when I was reading ur fic like oh god this song fits lighter so much 😳)

Aaaanyways I was wondering if you have any hcs for the day after lighter takes readers first time or any after care that he’d do? Also bit of a tangent but do you think lighter is the type to have cheesy nicknames for his partner like idk…sugar? Pumpkin? Or would he go the normal babe and doll type

Sorry it’s a bit long, I’m just happy to see lighter writers you all are a blessing thank you for the food 🤲🏼

🍓Hello lovely! Sorry I took so long to get to this, I'm p sure the hype around that fic is over, but this has been on my mind for so long and I just haven't had the motivation. I got some now, though, so here it is! (this is less headcannons and more a whole fic in bulletpoints lol) I hope you enjoy <3

TW: Day after; Alludes to previous sexual intercourse; Grammar Errors

Info: Lighter x Reader; Fluff; Headcannons

-You wake up to sunlight filtering in through the small crack between Lighters blinds, the warmth on your face a kindness that calls you to stir to life. There's a heavy weight across your middle and on your chest, accompanied by a different type of warmth -- human warmth.

-Your eyelids flutter open and, of course, you see your beloved partner Lighter curled up into your chest. He looked so peaceful resting like this, like all his worries had melted away from his mind and into the sheets until he woke up.

-You bring your hands up to play with his fluffy hair, smiling when he huffs a bit in his sleep, burrowing himself further into your chest if that is possible. Even in sleep he was trying to find ways to get you closer to him...

-Though he'd technically gotten you as close as possible last night if the dull ache inside you was telling enough. You could feel the sting in your hips already, and you would certainly limp a little when you got up, but you wouldn't trade it for the world.

-His green eyes blink up at you after a while of playing with his hair, foggy and glazed from sleep. He still finds it in himself to smile affectionately at you, and you can't help but smile back.

-"G'morning beautiful," He rumbles out, voice rough from his moaning last night, "Sleep well?"

-You nod at him, leaning down to press a kiss to his puffy lips in appreciation. That was answer enough for him and he lifted his weight off you in favor of leaning over you.

-He asks you if you're aching anywhere, and promptly massages your hips with the calloused pads of his fingers. The friction still surprisingly pleasant, and the ache in your hips eases up a little. It warms your heart, the amount of care he treats you with.

-He'll coo at you sweetly as he tries his best to ease the pain, mumbling about how much he enjoyed last night. How pretty you are. How much he loves you. How grateful he is you trusted him. All the sweet nothings.

-He takes the morning uncharacteristically slow, having been excused by Caesar apparently, or so he claims. He lazes around with you, happy just to have you in his arms for a while. You do, however, have to get up at some point which he grumbles about when you move to roll out of the sheets.

-You were right about the ache in your hips, you end up limping your way to the shower, and standing for the duration of it sucks. Lighter offers to help you out, but you insist on doing it by yourself (you wouldn't be able to keep your hands to yourself if you'd let him).

-Instead, you let him pick out some old clothes of his to wear, since yours don't exactly smell the best at this point. A too big t-shirt and a pair of sweats that no longer fit him find their way to your arms

-He waits for you patiently, like a puppy locked away from its owner during work hours. It's very cute. He's dressed now, cleaned up by himself while you were gone it seems. He practically leaps to greet you, pulling you into a sweet kiss. You hadn't expected him to be so clingy, but it was incredibly charming.

-He guides you carefully through Blazewood to get breakfast from Cheesetopia -- or, brunch more like it. You figured after your first time you would be a bit awkward, but Lighter didn't allow you any room for that. All was as usual, assuring you that nothing major had changed. Which, why would it have?

-Well... there was one thing...

-Caesar sat in a booth as you walked in, and the grin on her face said it all. She waved you over, and Lighter begrudgingly helped you over. You do your best to hide the limp, though it's absolutely futile with Caesars next words.

-"Have fun last night you two?" She teases, and humiliation washes over you -- Lighter's cheeks also turning a deep red, "No need to answer. We all heard you last night."

-Obviously, everyone around here knew of your relationship with Lighter... they didn't need to know the details. When you don't answer in your fluster, Caesar scoffs and waves her hands playfully. "Just kiddin', I stopped by to check up when you two disappeared. Congrats though!"

-She leaves you to eat after nearly giving you a heart attack, and you happily enjoy what you ordered. Feeling incredibly hungry after the night you had. Lighter doesn't seem to interested in his food, though. Just watching you with that same intensity from last night.

-You ask what's wrong, and he smiles wide at you, "Nothing, just admiring what's mine."

-You don't respond to that, because there's nothing you could say that's nearly as smooth as that.

Bonus:

You had me thinking about the nicknames a lot. I think that he definitely uses babe and baby the most. It's simple and easy to say, and people won't bat an eye if he calls you something like that. But he has other nicknames he uses you, some for specific situations, others just because he likes to switch it up sometimes.

Sugar is something he uses almost exclusively during sex. It's his way of coercing you into letting him take care of you, especially when you're acting all shy like it's an inconvenience. Or when you're afraid to make noise, "Lemme hear ya, Sugar~ Don't be shy~"

Darling is one that's more common to hear him throw out at random. However, it does have a specific use: scaring off other people. When someone is getting a little too friendly, he'll watch for a while until he can't bear it anymore and he has to intervene. He'll wrap his arms around you from behind, press a kiss to your temple, and ask "How're you feelin' Darlin'?" With a sharp glare at the offender

Doll is one that he likes to use to get you to squirm, almost always accompanied by a handsome grin. He uses it more to placate you when you're upset at him in a playful way. Like when his fangirls get a little too excited and upset you, he'll take your face in his hands and hum out, "Y'know they're not even half of what you're worth to me, doll. Stop your worrying."

Pumpkin I hadn't considered, but I think he uses it in private when it's just the two of you. It's a soft kind of thing he uses when you're really warming his heart. Curled up into his side half asleep, you'll hear him whisper it into the crown of your head, "I love you, Pumpkin."

[svgarseason]

𖹭 cw: explicit, smut, fluff

══════════════𖹭 MINORS DNI 𖹭═════════════

PT 1 ⋆ PT 2 ⋆ PT 3 ⋆ PT 4 ⋆ PT 5 ⋆ PT 6 ⋆ PT 7

English professor Nanami values his free time. He was never one to keep late hours, until he shared his office with you. Your enthusiasm is contagious. He doesn't mind the overtime so much, these days. Not with you sat on the couch in front of his desk, feet tucked under your stockinged thighs, brow furrowed in concentration as you marked up some some mediocre student's poor excuse of an assignment.

You would preface any question with a soft, sweet, "Professor Nanami ?" As if you weren't sure you had yet garnered the right to say his name. So shy, at first, but you got more and more comfortable as the semester went on. Often, now, you would plop a paper down in front him, crowding into his space as you poke fun at a student's sacchrine overuse of adverbs or rant about passive voice.

Professor Nanami is thrilled that you are opening up, but the trill of your laughter in his ear and the brush of your arm against his makes it difficult to remain objective.

"Her analysis really thins here, don't you agree? Am I being too harsh?" You've been sitting right next to him at his desk all afternoon. As you talk, you are scooting your metal folding chair even closer. He wonders if you realize the way your thigh crushes into his knee as you lean in so close he can smell the light floral scent of your perfume. A lock of your hair falls onto his forearm, soft. He thinks about what it might feel like brushing against his bare chest, the tops of his thighs.

Professor Nanami couldn't honestly answer your question because no matter how long he stares at the page, his brain refuses to absorb the words. So, he just agrees with you, returns your soft smile.

For some reason, that is the turning point for him. It's the moment he stops pretending, at least to himself, that he wouldn't give his left nut to bend you over his desk and fuck you absolutely full of his cum. You're just so good. He knows you would take his cock so well.

Although he attempts to focus on grading the paper in front of him, your proximity steals his attention. Suddenly, he can't stop thinking about the way you looked when you arrived that morning, rosy and breathless from the cold. Images of the sliver of flesh exposed when you pulled your hoodie up over your head are currently occupying every available braincell. The glimmer of your belly-button ring and the strap of some tiny undergarmet underlining the angle of your hip bone eclipse any remaining fragments of concern with narrative structure or parenthetical citations.

Professor Nanami is thinking that it's only a matter of time before you notice the rather prominent outline of his aching cock beneath his khaki slacks. Probably not much time, with the way your leg insists on rubbing up against his.

Why are you squirming like that anyway? Jesus Christ.

Professor Nanami stifles a groan when he feels the sticky warmth of his precum soaking into his boxers. Not wanting to call attention to his predicament, he resists the urge to assess the severity of the situation by looking down at his crotch. So, he looks at you, instead. Bad idea. You are running the end of your pen over your bottom lip as you pour over the paper in front of you. The glistening tip of your tongue protrudes slightly as you concentrate. He can't help but imagine the weeping head of his dick nudging you there, insisting.

Professor Nanami is looking around for something to hold over his stubbornly rigid cock so he can escape to the bathroom, when you suddenly stand and say you're going to get a coffee.

Professor Nanami tugs his slacks halfway down his thighs as soon as you close the door. His cock springs free, a pearly smear of precum leaves a dark splotch on his blue button down as it slaps against his abdomen. He hikes the shirt up in an effort to prevent any further evidence collecting on his pristine clothes. His arousal leaks into the divots of his abs, instead.

Professor Nanami hardly needs to spit on his cock as slick as it is with pre, but he does anyway. "Oh, fuck," he groans as he grips his thick base, slowly stroking himself from root to swollen, leaking tip.

Professor Nanami can't believe how fucking hard he is just from looking at you combined with your innocent, accidental touch.

He grabs your hoodie off of the folding chair where you left it. Buries his face in it and breaths in your addictive scent as he strokes himself. He groans out a strangled string of curses as his hips buck, fucking his fist with long, slow strokes. It only takes a couple of pumps and his abs are seizing up, his thighs shaking. Thick ropes of milky white erupt out of his tip as he moans your name into your hoodie which is still pressed to his face.

After that, it becomes almost like a game. Seeing how quickly or how many times he can jerk himself off before you return from lunch or a bathroom break. It's totally fucked, sure... but his intentions are pure. It's the only way he can preserve the efficacy of this mentorship. Otherwise, his brain would remain too clouded with lust to be of any benefit to you.

Professor Nanami knows he can't deny his desperate attraction to you anymore. He knows just how wrong it is. It is a betrayal of the trust you've placed in him. It is more than simple lust, however.

Professor Nanami cares for you. So much it's like a physical ache, a near painful tug in his chest every time he sees you, hears your voice, thinks about you. That's why you can never find out.

Never.