#if there's anything i missed please let me know!!!

[sugoroo]

#MAKE HIM BEG (FOR THAT P☆SSY!)

ʚɞ summary. how the jjk men look when they beg for it. are they reluctant as they force the words out or pathetic as they whine for it? . . . ft. gojo, geto, toji, choso + sukuna.

warnings. fem!reader, pussydrunk men of course, oral (f receiving), masturbation, penetration (p in v), riding, mating press, sukunas inspired by that one scene in wolf of wall street yupp, 18+ mdni.

SATORU GOJO — BREAKS IN NO TIME!

satoru may spend a short while attempting to defy your orders to beg for what he wants, crossing his arms over his chest and looking away with a petulant pout pushing at his lips.

but with you sitting there oh-so-temptingly next to him on the bed clad in nothing but a fuzzy pink nightgown and looking so painfully beautiful, god is it hard to keep up his childish stubbornness.

just look at it from his point of view for a moment... he's the strongest; he shouldn't have to plead with anyone for anything, right? hell, one could even argue that you should be the one begging him to lay his hands on you.

but if he's being completely honest with himself, he doesn't quite feel like the strongest whenever he's with you — no, it's the opposite, in fact... you make him weak.

weak enough that he's willing to throw caution to the wind and abandon his infamous prideful streak entirely to beg for you.

"please." satoru mumbles under his breath, like a child finally apologizing to their parent after being sent to the corner and thinking about what they've done for the appropriate amount of time.

"what was that, toru?" you hum teasingly, raising an eyebrow and stretching your leg out to poke his thigh with your recently pedicured foot. "i didn't quite hear you."

the white-haired man groans dramatically, peering over at you with his wide, uncovered cerulean eyes. he's needy; you can see it dancing clearly in his irises — but you're not about to let him off the hook that easily.

"can you say it again for me, hmm?" you prompt in a tone just dripping with exaggerated sweetness as you slowly drape your leg across his lap, relishing in the way his pale hands visibly twitch at his sides with the desire to touch it.

your boyfriend looks like he's mere moments away from lighting up a hollow purple as he fixes his stare upon your leg, refusing to look anywhere near your own eyes as he forces out another, more desperate, "please."

"good boy," you praise as a reward, watching with bemusement as satoru tries to cover up the way the two simple words affect him. but you know him too well, and the subtle squirm of his hips against your leg gives him away. "that wasn't so hard, was it?"

satoru grumbles a few retorts under his breath, but quickly loses his train of thought when you lift your leg from his lap, slowly spreading both limbs to expose the sheer panties you'd adorned especially for tonight.

"oh, baby," he groans from low in his throat, pupils dilating at an alarming speed as his tongue darts out to wet his suddenly chapped lips. "look at you..."

"just look?" you repeat cheekily, tilting your head to the side as you observe his completely transfixed reaction — it's almost laughable how easily you can break him down into a pathetic mess. "you don't wanna touch even after you begged so nicely for me?"

"n-no!" satoru shoots back without missing a beat, mop of messy white locks bobbing as he frantically shakes his head from side to side. "i wanna touch, pretty girl. i really wanna touch... can i?"

you barely have time to nod before your boyfriend is between your spread legs, effortlessly pushing them even further apart as he buries his head exactly where he wants it to be — right up against the slick crotch of your translucent underwear.

and he's utterly drunk on everything about your pussy in moments; the tempting scent of your gushing arousal that wafts through the material as he rubs his nose against it, the way the see-through fabric sticks to your skin and allows him a perfect view of your puffy folds.

"so gorgeous." satoru mutters reverently, lovesick eyes flicking up to meet yours as his freakishly long tongue lolls out to lick a slow, thorough stripe up the soiled front of your panties.

you're not sure who moans louder; him or you. all you do know is that it doesn't take long for his eager mouth to be directly over your cunt, ruined underwear tossed somewhere nearby without a second thought.

"y'should... make me work for it... more often, baby," he pants against you between obnoxious slurps and frequent groans of enjoyment at your saccharine flavour. "somehow, it makes this pretty pussy taste even sweeter."

SUGURU GETO — TURNS THE TABLES ON YOU!

suguru has no problem in indulging you if you want to switch things up in the bedroom every now and again. you want him to beg for you? sure, he can do that.

...because he knows that the roles will be reversed soon enough.

so when you pull him away from your gushy cunt by his hair after he's just spent the last few blissful hours down there coaxing orgasm after orgasm out of your writhing body, he's waiting patiently for whatever you want to say.

"if you want to be inside me next... you have to beg for it," you say breathlessly, trailing your fingers from the back of his silky, loose hair down to the nape of his neck and squeezing. "can you do that for me, sugu?"

suguru pretends to consider it for a moment, tilting his head to the side and peering up at you with thoughtful violet eyes. after a few moments, he responds. "hmm... i see no reason why i can't."

your surprise is evident on your face at just how quickly he agreed — when you first decided you wanted to try this, you assumed it would take atleast a little bit of convincing to get him to go along with it.

...but apparently not.

"wow. um... just like that?" you chuckle in a soft puff of startled air, eyebrows raised as you watch him stand up from his knees and rest his large hands over your bare thighs.

"what? did you expect me to put up a fight or something, baby?" suguru purrs gently, leaning down so his face is inches from yours, hot breaths mingling together. "nah. my girl's pretty pussy is worth begging for, don't you think?"

you swallow thickly, his sultry words making a gush of arousal ooze onto the sheets beneath you as your eyes briefly flick down to his lips which are still swollen and shiny with your juices. "i wouldn't have asked you to if i didn't think so."

he releases a low, velvety laugh at this before slowly spreading your legs wider to make room for himself and crawling onto the mattress to settle between them.

suguru reaches down past the waistband of his grey sweatpants to wrap a tanned hand around his neglected cock, giving it a few pumps while his gaze stays fixed upon your glistening wetness.

and he just keeps doing this for a few long moments, making your body instinctively squirm around in need as you observe his ministrations with an air of impatience. "i-isn't this the part where you're meant to do the begging?" you force out, hoping your voice isn't too audibly uneven.

he simply smiles at this — a lilting, amused little smile that makes you feel like he might know something you don't. "i will, sweetheart. just getting myself ready first."

a few minutes pass, yet he still makes no move whatsoever to start pleading with you; and naturally, you're starting to become more and more restless, itching for something, anything to happen.

then suddenly, without any warning whatsoever, suguru pushes both his sweats and boxers down in one fell swoop, instantly drawing your attention to his thick, veiny cock as it slaps against his toned abdomen, reddened tip angry and drooling from all the teasing he's been doing to it.

and you're so fixated on the sight before you that you hardly even notice when he slyly lines himself up with your entrance, rubbing his leaky cockhead around it in slow, infuriating circles.

"w-what are you doing, sugu?" you gasp, brows pinching in a mix of annoyance and pleasure at his deliberately un-coordinated movements; he's working you up on purpose... but why?

"nothing." suguru hums entirely innocently, blinking down at you with an air of nonchalance that doesn't fail to irk you.

for a while, silence falls between you as you both gaze intently at where your bodies are connected — so close to becoming one but not quite there yet.

and then, the somewhat tranquil moment is suddenly snapped into a thousand tiny pieces by the loud, wet slap! of your boyfriend's flushed tip slapping against your cunt.

and it makes you release a pitiful cry, needy hips instinctively bucking up against him in search of more friction. but he abruptly pulls away before your skin can touch again, still sporting that strange smile.

"you want something, pretty girl?" suguru croons in a deceptively sweet tone, reaching down to trail a slender finger down the supple skin of your tummy and relishing the way your hips buck again in response.

"y-yes," you whine pathetically, too desperate to be full of him to even process how this situation has somehow been turned completely on its head in mere minutes. "please, sugu... need you."

"thereee we go... who's the one begging now, hm?" he chuckles loudly, eery smile finally widening into the smug grin he's evidently been holding back this whole time. "see what i did there?"

"...i hate you."

"no you don't, baby."

and he's right; you don't. and when he distracts you by finally, finally beginning to ease himself inside your throbbing heat, you think maybe the tables being turned on you wasn't such a bad thing after all.

TOJI FUSHIGURO — YOU'LL HAVE TO WEAR HIM DOWN!

“—you want me to what?” toji grunts in response, a thick dark eyebrow raised in exasperation as he looks at you like you’d just grown a second head.

“you heard me perfectly fine, toji.” you huff with a small roll of your eyes. of course he isn't going to make this easy for you. he never does.

“you seriously want me to beg to fuck that needy little cunt of yours?” he scoffs loudly, jabbing a finger in the direction of your dripping core as if to prove his point. “i think you should be the one begging me to do that, dollface.”

“that’s what i do every night already,” you deadpan, crossing your arms over your chest and observing the way he simply shrugs in response. “we’re trying something different this time.”

“oh, are we now?” toji drawls mockingly, tilting his head to the side and eyeing you with a bemused half-smile tugging at his scarred lips. “and what makes you so sure i’ll even agree to go along with this, hm?”

“well… because if you don’t, then you get no pussy tonight.” you counter in a decisive hum, closing your legs and sealing yourself away from his view.

“really? that's the best y'got?” he snorts obnoxiously, waving a dismissive hand in your direction and turning his head back to the television screen at the end of the bed as if to showcase how unaffected he is by your threat.

toji may be stubborn as a mule, but so are you; which is a good thing because it means you work well together, but a bad thing (for him) because it means that two can play at this little game he’s started.

so while he pretends his attention is solely fixed on whatever is quietly playing on the tv, you not-so-subtly begin sliding a hand down the length of your body, eyeing him carefully for any signs of a reaction.

you know you’re making progress when he covers up the way a groan threatens to rumble from deep in his throat when he notices your hand finishing its descent and disappearing between your legs by clearing his throat into his fist.

he holds out for quite a while, honesty. it must be taking a herculean effort on his part not to snap when you begin releasing shameless moans and gasps of pleasure right beside him, coupled with the lewd squelching sounds emanating from your cunt.

but toji is just a man, after all — and one that is not used to being denied what he wants, at that. so it's not long at all before he breaks, practically ripping his clothes to shreds in his haste to be inside of you right now.

you stop him before he can line himself up with your entrance by placing a hand on his bare chest, a victorious smile pulling at your lips as you tilt your head to the side. "forgetting something, big man?"

"huh? oh, y'mean a condom? sorry, baby, 'm all out." he mutters while shooting an apologetic grin in your direction, quickly turning his focus back to pushing his gushing tip towards your fluttering hole.

"no, not that," you chuckle in bemusement, giving his chest a light shove to stop his advances yet again. "i'm fairly certain i said no pussy for you unless you beg for it, didn't i?"

toji's grin falls comically fast, replaced by a small scowl of annoyance as he leans back on his haunches. damn it, he'd been foolish to hope you would've forgotten about that already.

"jesus christ, fine... please?" he forces out with about as much enthusiasm as a young child about to go to their first day back at school after a long vacation, the words coated in bitterness as they fall from his tongue.

"alright, i see you don't really want it then, so i'll just see myself out—"

"fuck no, you're not going anywhere, dollface," toji grunts before you can even take a single step towards the door, wrapping his strong arms around your waist and effortlessly pulling you down onto his lap. "i'll even beg all proper for ya, okay? please can i have you, mama?"

"...i suppose." you respond with a small smile, trying to hold back the smugness threatening to bubble up into your tone as you realize that your little plan actually worked.

but as per usual, you end up being the one begging for more once toji starts bouncing your pliant body up and down on his fat, curved cock that just fills you up so good.

...no surprises there.

CHOSO KAMO — BEGS ALREADY (A LOT!)

choso has absolutely no problem being pathetic for you.

he feels that it's a blessing just being able to exist in your mere presence, so it's only fair that if he wants anything more than that then he should ask nicely, right?

he has no idea why anyone wouldn't get down on their knees and beg for the privilege of getting to touch someone as pretty as you, especially when you walk into the bedroom in nothing but one of his oversized shirts.

"baby..." choso mutters quietly, voice already slightly whiny as he watches you perch yourself on the edge of the bed he was lazily sprawled across before your entrance.

"hmm?" you hum, feigning obliviousness, as you peer at him over your shoulder — and oh, is he adorable like this. all pale, blushing cheeks and an involuntary pout pushing at his full lower lip.

"you look so pretty right now," he murmurs quietly but sincerely as his wide chestnut eyes trail over your form with barely concealed reverence dancing in his irises. "...w-well, i mean, you always look pretty. but especially right now." he adds for good measure.

"why thank you," you respond with a soft smile, reaching out to lightly trail your fingertips across the distance of his sharp jawline and relishing in the way his entire body visibly shivers as a result. "is there by any chance something you want, cho?"

choso audibly gulps at the gentle and knowing tone of your voice, letting his eyes flutter closed for a few beats before opening them again. "m-maybe."

"maybe?" you repeat in a light chuckle, raising an eyebrow and grasping his chin between your thumb and forefinger to make sure his gaze stays directly fixed upon you. "i know you can do better than that, baby. c'mon, use your words for me."

his pouting lower lip trembles ever so slightly at your coaxing words, the rapidly growing bulge in his sweatpants twitching violently in a way that borders on painful in response. "want y-you."

"hmm... better, i suppose. but still not good enough." you tut in disappointment, removing your touch from his chin entirely and observing the way he chases after your hand with silent amusement.

slowly crawling across the mattress, you perch yourself upon his lap before the poor boy can even process what's happening, placing your hands over his hipbones to stop his inevitable squirming.

"if you want something, you have to be specific," you drawl in a low, sultry caress of a tone, languidly rolling forward against the not-so-subtle hardness you can feel beneath your ass. "now... tell me, cho, what is that you want?"

choso appears to be mere moments away from bursting into a fit of tears at your teasing movement, his pale hands clenching into white-knuckled fists against the bedsheets as he peers up at you pleadingly through the messy strands of dark hair that have fallen across his forehead.

"i-i want you to... to fuck me," he murmurs timidly, each syllable audibly shaking with embarrassment as it leaves his mouth. no matter how many times the two of have been intimate in the past, he still remains as shy as ever. "please."

"thereee we go," you coo warmly, hands giving his hips a gentle squeeze in reward for his obedience. "didn't even have to ask you to beg, hmm? you did it all on your own like a good boy."

choso merely nods furiously, his desperate facial expression doing all the talking for him as you lift your body up for a moment to tug his sweatpants (which are already decorated with a small pre-cum stain) down.

it's not long before you're settled atop his needy, pulsing cock, unable to resist his repeated adorable whimpers and mewls to feel you around him — and oh, does it feel better when you've teased him just a little beforehand.

he's going feral within seconds, pulling your pliant body down to his face practically suffocate himself with your pillowy tits while he ruts up into like an animal in heat.

as you brace yourself for a bumpy ride, you can't but think that if there's one thing you never have to worry about with choso as your boyfriend, it's him refusing to beg for you.

...but what you do have to worry about is the very real possibility of him bruising your cervix with how deep his relentless thrusts are reaching.

RYOMEN SUKUNA — KINGS DO NOT BEG... RIGHT?

ryomen sukuna is the king of curses. and, coincidentally, last time he checked; kings do not beg.

so when you have the sheer audacity to ask him to plead with you for the mere privilege of getting to touch your mortal cunt, to say he is outraged would be a dire understatement.

“absolutely not.” sukuna grunts firmly, crimson eyes narrowing in annoyance as he waves a dismissive hand in your direction, the action not dissimilar to what he would've to one of his old concubines when he was finished with them.

but you're irritatingly persistent, refusing to let the matter go for the entire duration of the night as if you truly believe there's a chance you can break his ironclad resolve.

"you must be deluded beyond comprehension to think i would ever stoop so low as to—" he begins to grumble, but for some reason, finds the end of his sentence disappearing from his mind when he lays eyes upon what you're currently doing.

there you sit, at the foot of his throne, skirt pushed up to reveal the lack of... well, anything underneath as you shamelessly sprawl your legs apart to give him an unobstructed view of your sweet cunt.

"fuck, woman," sukuna practically growls, the sound guttural and raw as it escapes from deep in his throat. he shifts subtly in his seat, craning his neck downward to get a better look at you. "what on earth do you think you're doing?"

"who, me?" you hum, feigning complete obliviousness as you slowly but surely lift a leg up and press the end of your high heel against the arm of his throne.

"yes, you," he scoffs incredulously, crossing his tattooed arms over his chest and attempting to continue remaining unaffected by your little display. "do you see anyone else in here flashing me their bare pussy?"

you make a show of glancing over both shoulders before turning back and shaking your head with a mock-innocent smile stretching at your lips. "huh. you're right, looks like i'm the only one."

sukuna only responds with an unamused grunt at your childish antics, the sound quickly melting into a rough groan when you lift up your other leg as well, body now entirely open and just ripe for the taking.

he finds himself instinctively reaching out a thick hand before he even realizes what he's doing, only for you to pin it down with the end of your heel without it managing to make contact with your skin.

"ah ah," you hum chidingly, tilting your head to the side and peering up at him through fluttering lashes. "you know what you have to do if you want to touch, ryo."

sukuna scowls fiercely, fully aware that he could effortlessly pull his hand from under your shoe and snap your pretty little ankle in half in one swift movement... but he won't do that, of course. (maybe)

he could also just take what he wants right here, right now, without having to humiliate himself by pleading — but he supposes if he's going to do something so utterly unbecoming of himself like begging for someone, it might as well be for you.

so as soon as the pathetic syllables of the word "please" leave his disgruntled mouth, he doesn't wait a single second to pounce on you, easily folding your legs up to your head so your heels frame either side of your face.

"but don't think this little stunt of yours will go unpunished," sukuna mutters gruffly in your ear as he impatiently tugs his robes open. "next time, i'll make you take both my cocks. then you'll be the one begging me; not for more... no, but for me to stop."

© 2024 SUGOROO.

LIKES AND REBLOGS APPRECIATED!

[alvojake]

After School Discipline | K.HJ

「pairing」 : hongjoong x fem!reader 「word count」 : 4.1k

「synopsis」 : you had failed the test that he worked so hard to help you 'study' for so of course you deserved the punishment that came along with it even if it felt like torture as you begged him to give you what you wanted, yet he never compiled, showing you who exactly has the reigns.

「genre」 : smut, prof!hongjoong, dad's bsf!hongjoong, age gap, university au(ish)

「warnings」 : MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!, cussing, teasing, edging, orgasm denial, daddy kink, petnames (babygirl, baby, sweetheart...), rough sex, unprotected sex, oral (m. receiving), face fucking, derogatory names (slut, cockslut), gagging, choking, clit play, creampie, public sex, slight hair pulling, bondage, spanking, lmk if I missed anything!!

part two ➻ here

The sun was shining brightly through the windows in the halls of the university as you walked down the hall with your best friend, Kara, talking about each other’s days thus far. You told her how your dad finally got the day off and even made breakfast for you before you left for class, and she pouted, asking why you hadn’t invited her over.

“Please, we both know your ass was passed out,” You laughed, bumping your shoulder against her playfully, and she sent you a glare, “you literally wake up like ten minutes before you’re supposed to leave and still miraculously make it here on time. Seriously, you need to teach me your ways.”

“Har har,” Kara rolled her eyes as she pulled her phone from her pocket, checking the time just as you stopped in front of your classroom door, “Oh, do you think you passed Professor Kim’s exam?”

At the mention of the exam, you felt your blood run cold, your body freezing in its spot as you recalled your ‘study’ session with the professor. You were perched in his lap at your kitchen table, his cock buried deep in your pussy as he talked you through the questions. However, you couldn’t focus at all; the only thing your mind was on was his dick and how you wished he would just move. Eventually, he noticed that you weren’t paying attention at all and threatened to leave you high and dry if you didn’t study, whispering promises in your ear if you listened.

“Just answer a few questions for me, babygirl, and Daddy will give you exactly what you want.” His voice was smooth as he let his lips brush against the shell of your ear, making you squirm in his lap, but you listened nonetheless. Then just like he promised, after you answered the questions he gave you correctly, he bent you over the dining table and fucked you into oblivion.

“Earth to y/n.” Kara giggled as she watched your face turn a deep shade of red, already knowing exactly what you were thinking about; she then reached out, patting your shoulder with a teasing smirk on her lips. “Don’t worry. I’m sure if you suck up to him, he’ll go easy on you. 

You slapped her hand away with a pout, causing her to break out in a fit of giggles. You sent her a death glare, arms crossing over your chest. You then shoved her just enough to make her stumble a bit: " Why don’t you worry about flunking Mr. Jung’s class? We both know he isn’t forgiving.” A smug smirk tugged on your lips as she looked at you with wide eyes, but they quickly softened, and she returned your smug look.

“Jokes on you. I fail them on purpose!” She then stuck her tongue out at you before walking down the hall. You couldn’t help but laugh at her antics; were you surprised? Not even in the slightest. Kara had always been obsessed with the fox-eyed professor.

You then turn back around to look at the classroom door, dreading walking in and facing the very man you knew would ultimately punish you for flunking. Taking a deep breath, you square your shoulders and walk into the classroom.

As soon as you walked through the threshold, you felt a pair of eyes on you. Looking up, you met the dark eyes of your professor. The intensity of his gaze left a chill going down your spine as you swallowed thickly and quickly looked away. You then scrambled over to your seat, trying your best to avoid Hongjoong’s gaze at all costs.

Despite trying to avoid his gaze, you could still feel his eyes burning holes into your body, making the hairs on the back of your neck stand tall. You prayed that everyone would hurry and get to class so he would have no choice but to spare you, but it felt like an eternity passed before the last person walked into the room.

“Alright, everyone, find your seats.” Hearing his stern tone, your body instinctively straightened, your eyes flickering to the front of the room. Hongjoong stood next to his desk, holding up a stack of papers that were more than likely the exam that you had failed. Once everyone was settled in their seats, Hongjoong spoke once more, his eyes sweeping the room, “It would seem that we didn’t spend enough time on this unit, seeing as the majority of the class scored a low score.” His eyes then trailed over to you, “some lower than others.” The dark gleam in his eyes made you squirm in your seat, wishing that the ground would just swallow you whole.

He then spoke about how he would go easy on everyone seeing as it was a difficult topic, but he couldn’t promise that he would be so forgiving next time. However, it flowed in one ear and right the other when he stepped closer to you, handing back all of the graded exams.

“I am going to return your exam sheets, and we will go over the answers together as a class.” He instructed, and you heard a few groans and sighs of relief, but no one openly complained. Your gaze then shifted down to the notebook in front of you, fiddling with your pen until your exam was placed in your line of sight. Swallowing down the lump in your throat, your eyes trailed from the paper to Hongjoong’s eyes, your heart lurching into your throat when you locked eyes. His gaze alone told you that you were in trouble far before his words were able to. “See me after class, Ms. Jeong.”

You reached out to grab your test with shaky hands, but Hongjoong didn’t release his grip on the paper, causing you to look up and catch his raised eyebrow. Letting out a shaky breath, you parted your lips slightly before speaking, “Yes, sir.”

Satisfied, he nodded before moving on, but you felt heat rush up your neck when you heard a mixture of snickers and ‘ooos’ from the students around you. All of them thought that you were in deep trouble and they wouldn’t be wrong, except it wasn’t exactly the kind of trouble that they were thinking.

After all of the papers were passed back out Hongjoong made his way back to his desk before turning to look at the class once more. You tried your best to focus on what he was going over, but your mind kept wandering to what exactly he was going to do when he got you alone. Watching his slim finger write on the chalkboard did nothing to ease the heat that was pooling in your core. 

Noticing that you were getting distracted, Hongjoong asked the class a question before pointing you out individually, knowing damn well that you had no idea what he had just asked. And the deer caught in headlights expression on your face just confirmed his suspicions. He let out a faux disappointed sigh, arms crossing over his chest.

“Please make sure to pay attention in class, Ms. Jeong.” He reprimanded you, and you felt your face burn red from embarrassment. It only grew more when you heard a few students quietly laughing off to your side.

Sinking down in your seat you mumbled a small apology, not missing the sinister smirk that was tugging on the older male’s lips. You knew that he was doing this on purpose, adding it on to your list of punishments he was going to be giving you in less than an hour. So you knew that he wasn’t about to be easy on you. Not in the slightest.

You then spent the rest of the class trying your best to pay attention, despite the growing heat in the pit of your stomach or how your core would ache any time Hongjoong let his gaze linger for just a moment too long. It was driving you up a wall, but you didn’t want to get called out again or make your punishment any worse than it already was. So you tried your best to push the growing need down and focus on your school work.

After what felt like an eternity, class had finally wrapped up, and the bell signaling the end of class rang. You stayed in your seat, hands sitting in your lap, and your fingers fiddled with the hem of your skirt as you watched all of the students pile out. You didn’t even bother packing up your things, knowing that it would be pointless in the end, so you just sat quietly until everyone was gone.

When the door finally closed behind the last person you stood from your seat with shaky legs, eyes moving up to find Hongjoong leaning against his desk, eyes already fixed on you. Without a word, he raised a hand and motioned you forward with his index and middle fingers, eyes daring you to go against him.

Knowing better than to disobey him, you bit your lip and slowly made your way towards him until you were standing just a few feet in front of him. He clicked his tongue, an annoyed expression flashing across his face as he moved forward, pushing you down to your knees. A gasp fell from your lips as your hands and knees met the cool ground, but you quickly glanced back up at the older man, knowing that you would only annoy him more if you didn’t.

“It’s such a shame. We went over those test questions for such a long time, and you got all of the answers correct, yet…” He reached down, his fingers brushing along your jaw, a trail of goosebumps following his touch, “You still failed the test; why is that babygirl?” He hummed before harshly grabbing your chin, jerking your head back in his direction the moment you started to look away and you looked up at him with wide eyes. “Did I fuck all of the answers out of that pretty head of yours?”

His head tilted to the side, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip, and you instantly opened your mouth, allowing him to slip his finger into your mouth. A sinister smirk tugged on his lips as he pressed down on your tongue, and you wrapped your pretty lips around his finger, sucking gently.

“Hmm, do you think just because you’re acting so obedient now, I won’t be too rough?” He feigned pity before pulling his thumb from your mouth and wrapping his fingers around your throat, eliciting a gasp from you. “You’ve been a naughty girl, baby, and daddy has to displent his baby, right?” He asked, but you knew that it was more of a statement rather than an actual question. His tongue ran over his teeth as he watched you squirm under his hold, eyes pleading with him as your thighs pressed tightly together.

Crouching down, he pulled you forward until you were sitting on the palm of your hands once more, his face just a breath away from yours.

“Now be a good girl and put that sweet mouth of yours to work, and I might think about letting you cum.” He cooed, his hand moving from your neck back to your jaw before standing straight, letting his fingers slip from your skin.

As soon as he was standing, you crawled forward, hands going for the waistband of his slacks. Your fingers made quick work of his belt before undoing the button. Hongjoong watches in amusement as you move with urgency to get his already hard cock out of its confinement. A cute little gasp fell from your lips when it sprung free, nearly hitting your cheek.

You let go of his slacks as well as his underwear, letting them pool at his feet. Your mouth watered, and you leaned forward, taking him into your hands, admiring the pearls of precum that decorated his tip. Hongjoong watched you with a heated gaze as you grabbed his cock at the base before pressing feather-light kisses along his shaft. His fingers curled around the edge of his desk as you laid your tongue flat, licking a stripe up to his tip before encasing him in your mouth.

Your eyes flickered up to meet his, watching his jaw tense as you took him further into your mouth. The taste of precum tingled against your tastebuds, making you hum softly, eliciting a deep groan from Hongjoong.

“Fuckkk…” His head fell back for a moment before he let his gaze fall right back on you, one of his hands moving to brush some of the hair out of your face. “You’re such a dirty girl, sucking my dick like your favorite candy.” You moaned around him, the vibrations making his dick twitch in your mouth. 

He then gathered your hair in a makeshift ponytail, curses falling from his lips when your tongue pressed against the vein that ran along the side of his cock. Your thighs pressed together as you listened to all of the noises that were leaving his mouth, trying your best to relieve the pressure. Your fingers dug into Hongjoong’s thighs as you fought the urge to slip one of your hands under your skirt, knowing that doing so would only land you in more trouble.

His grip on your hair grew tighter as his hips bucked forward, the tip hitting the back of your throat. You gagged at the sudden intrusion, tears stinging in the corner of your eyes.

“Shit, babygirl,” He groans as he thrusts his hips forward once more, pleasure clouding his mind as he feels your throat contract around his shaft. Your eyes squeezed shut as you let him continue to fuck your throat, tears spilling from your eyelashes until Hongjoong tugged on your hair. “Uh huh darling, keep those pretty eyes open.” His tone was stern, causing you to whine around his cock, your knees starting to ache from the cool, hard ground, but the pain only added to the pleasure.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Hongjoong chanted as his hips started to falter, his cock twitching in your mouth before you felt spurts of his hot seed coating the back of your throat. He stilled inside of your mouth for a moment, enjoying the way you struggled to breathe around him, tears spilling from your pretty eyes, trailing down to mix in with the saliva that spilled from the corner of your lips. After a few moments, he pulled out of your mouth, allowing you to breathe properly, and let go of your hair before cupping your face. “Look at you, darling…” His thumb swiped across your bottom lip, smearing the remainder of your lipstick, an almost predatory gaze in his eyes, “such a pretty mess for me.”

Your thighs squeezed together at his words. A whine fell from your lips, and Hongjoong smirked before pulling you to your feet. His hand then found your hip, pulling your body flush against his. His face dipped down to your neck, pressing hot, open-mouth kisses along your skin.

“D-Daddy…” You breathed out, your hands moving up to snake around his neck. However, he quickly caught your wrist.

Before you could even utter a word, he switched places with you, pressing your body down against the surface of his desk. A loud gasp fell from your lips from the sudden movement, and your head turned to look at the older man.

“You don’t get to touch me, baby,” He cooed, grabbing your arms once more and gathering your wrists into his hand. You opened your mouth to protest, but the dark look he gave you made your body shiver, and you closed your mouth. All you could do was watch as he pulled his tie off before wrapping it around your wrists and pulling its tights. His hands then wandered down your sides, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. Getting down to your skirt, he hiked it further up your hips, giving him the perfect view of the pink lace panties you were wearing.

“Dadd–” Your words were cut off by a moan that tore through your lips when he landed a harsh smack on your ass, fingers rubbing the now red skin.

“You were just waiting to get punished, weren’t you?” He spanked you again, relishing in the mewls that were leaving your lips. “Such a naughty little slut.” He growled, pulling the band of your underwear before letting it snap back in place, eliciting a whine from your parted lips. The stinging pain from him spanking you and where the elastic met your skin made your head spin, arousal dripping from your throbbing cunt.

He then grabbed the fabric once more, but with more strength, and before you even realized what he was doing, the sound of fabric ripping filled the air. You whined about how they were expensive, but Hongjoong didn’t wanna hear any of it. Leaning against you, he made sure to press his hips against yours, making sure you could feel his aching cock. He brought the tattered fabric into your view, his lips right next to your ear as he spoke.

“Open up, sweetheart.” His voice was sweet, yet his actions were anything but that as he barely let you part your lips before he was shoving the fabric between your lips. A muffled moan then left your gagged mouth as he pressed his hips further against yours. “Can’t have anyone hear how much of a cockslut you are now, can we?”

He then stood straight once more, grabbing your hip in one hand and then his dick with the other. Teasing your soaping cunt with his tip, Hongjoong watched with a sinister grin as you clenched around nothing, muffled mewls leaving your lips. Your mind started to go fuzzy with need the more he continued to play with you, and your hips started to push back against him, your body begging him to stop teasing.

“Aww, do you want me to fuck you?” Hongjoong’s tone was condescending as he pressed his tip into you just to pull it right back out, his grip tight on your hips to halt your movements, “too bad, sluts don’t get to make requests.”

A loud muffled cry fell from your lips as his hand made contact with the fat of your ass once more, tears stinging in the corners of your eyes. Your body started to tremble under his hold as he relentlessly played with your body until you were sobbing, begging him to just fuck you.

Pleas fell from your lips as your nails dug into the palm of your hands, and Hongjoong smirked sinisterly as he stopped all of his movements. Your ears started to ring as you tried to make sense of what he was doing but your mind was far too fogged to even think coherently.

A choked moan tore from your lips when he suddenly thrust into you all in one go, your slick making it easier to slide right in. Buried to the hilt, he stopped moving once again, relishing in your whines and how you tried to fight against his hold to move. His lips then curled up into a snarl as you continued to try and disobey him, and his grip grew even tighter on your hips, his nails leaving crescent-shaped indents in your skin.

“Stop fucking moving.” He growled, and you whined but stopped moving, knowing that you would only be digging a deeper hole for yourself if you didn’t listen, “now don’t you dare think about cumming before I tell you to.”

You wanted to protest, but Hongjoong didn’t give you a chance before he started plowing into you mercilessly. Your body trembled violently as his tip brushed over your sweet spot with every thrust, a mixture of tears and spit covering your face as you slowly started to lose yourself in the pleasure.

Hongjoong knew your body like the back of his hand, knew all of the right buttons to push and tweak that would have you coming undone in seconds. So it wasn’t a surprise to him when your pitch grew higher, and your cunt squeezed around him like a vice. His jaw tightened as he released your hip with one hand only to trail it down your back and tangle it into your messy hair. A choked muffled cry fell from your lips as he pulled your body up.

“Are you gonna cum?” He asked, but the way you clenched around him told him that you were, even when you shook your head no. “Does my little slut wanna cum?” His voice was strangely sweet as he released your hair only to grab your neck, your eyes rolling as he squeezed your soft flesh. Stars started to dance across your vision the longer he continued to fuck into you.

He continued his rough pace until he knew you were close and then stopped. You started to lose count of how many times he’s edged you, your mind far too foggy, yet you still had enough strength to beg him to let you cum despite the piece of fabric that constricts your airway. 

Hongjoong enjoyed to teary, fucked outlook on your flushed face, a sight he would never get tired of seeing. He peppered your neck with feather-light kisses, knowing better than to leave marks that would have your father and friends questioning where they came from. Then, when he felt himself close to his own high, he decided that he would finally let you have what you’ve been begging for.

A strangled cry fell from your lips when his other hand snaked down to toy with your puffy clit, circling it in tight figure eights. Your eyes squeezed shut, pushing more tears out as you prepared yourself for him to stop once again.

But he didn’t.

“Cum for daddy babygirl, make a mess all over my cock.” Hongjoong nipped at your ear, and your mind went reeling as white spots started to cloud your vision as he fucked into you with abandon. Playing with your small bundle of nerves like his favorite instrument. Then, without any warning, your orgasm washed over you, a loud muffled cry falling from your lips, and your bound hands pressed against his abdomen. “Look at that, you can actually follow directions like a good girl, who would have thought.” He mocked you as he fucked you through your orgasm, his fingers never leaving your clit. His own high right on the tip of his tongue as you squeezed around him like you never wanted him to leave, and his jaw clenched tightly. Letting up on your clit his hand found purchase on your hip once more before leaning forward, his lips brushing over your ear. “Do you think you deserve my cum?”

He watched in amusement as you nodded your head like a bobblehead, your teary eyes pleading with him as you looked back. Muffled sounds of his name and pleas fell from your lips, hoping that he would listen, but the sinister gleam in his eye sent a chill down your spine.

“Tell me…” He released your neck before grabbing your now-soaked panties and pulling them from your swollen lips, “do you think you deserve my cum?”

“Please! I’ll be a good girl, daddy just give me your cum! Please, please, please!” You sounded like a broken record and Hongjoong smirked as he picked his pace up once more, your now unmuffled moans bouncing off of the walls. Surely, anyone walking by would be able to hear and know exactly what was going on inside, and it excited Hongjoong more than he thought it would.

“Hmm… then you better not let a drop go to waste.” He growled before he felt himself burst, painting your gummy walls white with his seed, and you cried out at the warm feeling.

“Thank you…” You breathed out as you leaned back against Hongjoong, trying to catch your breath after the intensity of everything.

Hongjoong’s grip loosened as he rubbed your hips and whispered sweet nothings in your ear until your breathing regulated. He then nipped at your ear causing your body to jolt slightly, eyes opening to look back at him.

“Are you tagging along with your father this weekend for dinner?” His voice was smooth as he pressed lingering kisses along the warm skin of your neck, making you shiver. You nodded before your head rolled to the side to give him more access, your body growing warm once again. “Good, then we can go over your test, and I can show you exactly where you went wrong.” 

His word left a shiver to run down your spine as you knew exactly what he meant by that, and as much as it worried you because your father would be there, it excited you even more at the thought of screwing around right under his nose.

And you found yourself longing for the weekend to come as soon as possible.

@alvojake | Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or repost any of my work

𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ꜱᴇʀɪᴏᴜꜱʟʏ.

[reallychaoticwoo]

Can you do an ATEEZ reaction to their girlfriend squirting on them for the first time?

⛓️ Yess! Lord help me cause honestly the thought of this has me absolutely feral! 🤤🫠⛓️

✨️ Do It Again ✨️

❤️Pairing: Ateez x reader

�� Masterlist

⚠️Warnings: MDNI 18+ ONLY!! cussing, squirting (obvs), fingering, oral (f receiving), face riding, thigh riding, unprotected sex (wrap it up buttercup!), dom/sub dynamics, use of pet names (daddy, sir, babe, baby, darling, my love, etc) rough sex, clawing, overstimulation, slight bondage, I think that's it but lmk if I missed anything 🖤

‼️This is purely for entertainment purposes and does not represent the idol(s) in any way‼️

🖤Please support your authors by liking, reblogging, or even just leaving a comment! I love interacting with comments and reblogs they honestly make my day. As always, I hope you enjoy!🖤

HONGJOONG:

His fingers buried themselves deep inside you for the 4th time tonight as your release washed over you (and him). His eyes widened and his once concentrated face morphed into that of a predator. "Oh sweetheart, you didn't tell me you could do that." Something between fear and arousal circulated deep inside you as you awaited his next words. "Oh I am going to have so much fun seeing how many times I can make you squirt for me, my love. I hope you're ready." His final word spoken just as his fingers entered your overly sensitive cunt for a 5th time.

SEONGHWA:

Your legs trembled and your back arched as you screamed, your orgasm rushing through you like never before. He lifted his face from your core, his pupils blown, and his face glistening. He chuckled darkly as he snaked up your body to meet your lips."Darling, did you know you could do that and didn't tell me?" You shook your head frantically, "N..No! I didn't know I promise!" He hummed to himself as he thought over your words. "Well, you made quite the mess. I suppose I won't punish you for it... IF my sweet girl can squirt for me again before I cum." He swiftly snapped his hips forward burying himself to the hilt. "Starting now." He said as he reared back and thrust inside again.

YUNHO:

He was balls deep in your cunt, thrusting hard and deep. His tip kissing your cervix with each snap of his hips. Your slick walls clenched around him as your arms gave out and you fell face first into the mattress. "Fuccckk I didn't know you could do that baby." He practically growled as he began picking up speed, his own release threatening to snap. "One more baby, give me one more please, fuck that was so hot!" His voice closer than before as he bent forward to whisper in your ear. His hand placed on the back of your neck pushing you further into the bed as his thrusts grew frantic. A few thrusts later and your release sprayed all over as his own was pumping deep inside.

YEOSANG:

His eyes were blown out as you bounced yourself up and down, your warm tight walls clenching down on his length as you chased your orgasm. Your head fell back as you bottomed out, euphoria washing over your body. He held you hips and bucked up into you, elongating your release. "Shit... shit that was so sexy." You smiled down at him as you slowly started moving your hips again. "If you can get me to do it again before you cum, I'll wake you up to head for a week. How's that sound Sangie?" He thrust his hips up into you once before answering "Sounds like a challenge I am going to enjoy either way baby. You're on."

SAN:

Your back was up against the wall and your legs hanging over his arms as he thrust into you with such primal force. You clawed down his back as you let go, soaking the two of you in your essence. He glared down at where your bodies met and smirked with nothing but pure sin in his eyes. "Oh, oh you've fucked up babygirl. Gonna make you do that again and again. Gonna take this cock all fucking night right princess?" You gulped, already fucked out, and managed to mumble, "Yes sir. Gonna take what daddy gives me." He resumed his brutal pace without warning before whispering in your ear, "Good girl."

MINGI:

Your thighs were straddling his face as he blissfully lost himself in your cunt. Out of all the things he loved, you riding his face had to be in the top five. A particularly sharp suck on your clit sent you over the edge as you tried to keep from falling forward. He did not let up as you squirted all over his face, his tongue hungrily begging for more as it lapped at your folds. Once you caught your breath you sat back on his chest. "Shit, oh my god are you okay Min?? I didn't know that was gonna happen!" He just smiled still drunk of your pussy before he answered, "Drown me again please, pretty please baby!" He didn't even wait for a reply before he grabbed your hips and moved you back to his face.

WOOYOUNG:

The thing about you and Woo that works so well is that you're both bratty as fuck. Although you both liked to test the limits, Woo almost always ended up on top and in charge. Tonight was no different. You laid back against the bed, hands tied to the headboard, your legs spread apart by a spreader bar, and Woo between your thighs with a magic wand grinning manically. You were so overly sensitive from the hour he'd been edging you that tears streamed down your face as you begged him to let you cum. And the second he said "Cum for me sweetie" your orgasm washed over you like a hurricane threatening to destroy your very existence. As you slowly came back to, your vision finally returning, you looked to Woo. His cheshire smirk only grew as he met your eyes before practically growling, "Do it again."

JONGHO:

You were feeling especially needy tonight. Rubbing yourself on his thigh as he tried to relax from a long day. "That's it baby bear, doesn't that feel good?" He asked as his hands moved in tandem with your hips adding some much needed pressure. "Y-yes..ssoo good.. gonna cum soon.." You moaned as you began to pick up your pace. You buried your face in his neck, needy whines escaping your lips as you slowly reached your climax. His hands moving your hips for you, slowly dragging you back and forth as your rode out your high. "Sweet baby bear, did you just squirt on my thigh?" You mumbled something incoherent. "Lay down baby. We're gonna go again until you do that on my dick, understand?" You nodded, chest still heaving as you laid back for him. "Yes please sir."

‼️TAG LISTS FOR GENERAL ATEEZ CONTENT ARE OPEN! I do also have tag lists for individual members if you like to be added to that.

[panic-at-the-fiction]

A problem to work with

Summary: Bucky Barnes is a problem to work with. He’s annoying, snarky, hot headed and you don’t get along. And this has absolutely nothing to do with your thoughts about how big his arms are, or how hot he is when he’s mad. No this is only about how difficultly annoying he is.

Warning: Tension, banter, eventual smut.

A/N: don’t we all still enjoy pretending it’s 2012 and all the avengers are happily alive and working and living together in the tower. Like I miss that! Let’s put Clint back in the vent and go back to the good old days.

There was a lot of things you loved about your job, ok well maybe there was a few things, but certainly, Bucky Barnes was not one of them.

“Wow, that’s a good look on your doll.” He smiled as you walked down the stairs of the hotel into the Lobby where he stood waiting for you.

“Well I have got to say Barnes, you clean up surprisingly well for a man of your age.”

He scoffed, “It’s called having some class, they don’t teach it anymore.”

Now one might assume with banter so playful the two of you might have something going on, but you don’t. This was just a mission, you were just playing the part, not to be mistaken for anything real between the two of you.

In fact, just a week ago the two of you couldn’t stand each other, it was Tony’s idea to set you two up in such a long close quarters mission.

“You have to be kidding me Tony, you know how annoying Barnes is. We’ll tear each other's heads off before we even make it to the gala.”

Steve shook his head. “Yeah even I have to protest this Tony, I mean (y/n) and Buck in the field, no backup? Couldn’t we partner them with someone else?”

“We can’t rearrange all of our mission plans so that these two don’t have to interact with each other. You both are grown ass adults, suck it up and play nice.” He said with finality before leaving the room. Steve sighed and joined him out in the hallway.

You crossed your arms and looked over at Bucky as he reclined in his seat. “You’re awfully quiet.”

“Thought I was annoying.”

“You are that's why I thought you would have something to say on the subject.”

He shook his head and clenched his jaw, and you felt your heart drop, damn him. “Tony’s right, we’re adults. You just gotta stop acting like a brat so we can work together.”

“Oh please, if this is anyone's problem to solve it’s yours. You’re the one who’s going to actually have to trust me on this mission if we’re to get anything done.”

“Fine.”

“Fine?”

“Yeah, I’ll trust you, you play nice, I'll do the same. One week, let’s play professionals.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

And you both had played nice ever since. He greeted you with a smile when he picked you up the next morning, carried your bag into the hotel, he even started the mission by letting you run point. Of course, it felt like a trick at first but once you realized he was being serious you returned the favor, bought coffee for the two of you as you staked out the location of the gala, let him do all the talking with the host you gathered information from, and made the two of your dinner the night before the big event. That night felt the most real, things shifted.

You set down a plate of food and a cheap bear in front of Bucky as he poured over the blueprints on the table in your shared hotel room. “So the two guards will be posted by each door in uniform, but two guards in disguise as waiters will be standing by these two entrances.”

“Barnes, I know, we’ve gone over the plan three times tonight, we know the layout backwards and forwards. You can take a break.”

He sighed heavily as he rubbed at the tightness in his shoulders. You stared, watching his arms flex with the movement, the expression on his face altering the chemicals of your brain.

“Thanks (y/n),” he said, taking the plate you had set in front of him.

You shook yourself out of your thoughts, reminding yourself what was important here. “Anytime Barnes.”

“Why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Call me Barnes, what are you, my sergeant?” He laughed playfully. You hadn’t ever heard him laugh like that, his usual attitude toward you didn’t allow for that type of light heartiness.

“Oh, because you just love when I bark orders at you.” You laughed while taking a sip of your drink.

“Who says I don't?” He gave you that 1940s smile you just know won so many girls over back in the day.

You tried not to choke as you looked away from him, hiding the heat that crawled up your neck. “Well, I guess I just figured Bucky was reserved for your friends, like Steve and Sam.”

“Are we not friends?”

You studied him, you couldn’t tell if he was being serious. “Are we?”

He leaned back in his chair, “do you want to be?”

“Do you?”

The room filled with silence as you both settled without an answer. Neither of you had an answer.

No, you would rather not be his friend, you didn’t think you could handle any more nice things coming from him. His smile made your stomach flip, and his proximity made your hair stand up, it was killing you the amount of alone time you were getting with him. But even worse the idea of it all being gone in 24 hrs and things going back to how they were made your chest hurt.

“I think I’m going to go to bed now, big day tomorrow.” You said excusing yourself from the table.

“Yeah” He sighed, taking a sip of his drink.

You paused at the door to your room before turning back for just a second. “Goodnight Bucky, get some sleep.” You smiled softly as you left him.

You didn’t run into Bucky much the next morning. He left a note saying he needed to double-check some things before getting ready for the gala tonight, but he promised to meet you in the lobby on time.

That leads you to now, standing in front of the mirror looking at the damn dress. Your heart pounded in your chest, you had forgotten about the dress. Originally intended for one of Tony’s galas that was canceled, you had never had a chance to wear this one. You had been excited to bring it along for the gala, but now it taunted you. It taunted you with its silkiness, its low cut, its backlessness.

All you could think was, would Bucky like it? It made you sick with nerves. This was not relevant. There was a high-profile target at tonight's gala, there were a weeks worth of snooping, and stake outs, and gathering information, months of research and tracking at stake here, but you were thinking of his hands on your back in that stupid dress if you were lucky enough to find an excuse to dance tonight.

You shut the thoughts out of your head and did your best to cool yourself down with some water to get your mind out of the gutter. This was just the two of you playing nice, being professional, this man despised you outside the walls of this hotel, outside of this mission.

You mentally slapped yourself as you got in the elevator heading down to the lobby, preparing yourself as you walked down the hotel's grand staircase.

You met Bucky's gaze from where he stood waiting for you at the bottom of the staircase. Damn he looked good. You could feel his eyes on you, every warning thought about the consequences of getting carried away leaving your brain. Was it getting hotter in here?

“Wow, that’s a good look on you doll.” He smiled playfully.

DAMN.

You laughed, shaking your head, “Well I have got to say Barnes, you clean up surprisingly well for a man of your age.”

He scoffed, “It’s called having some class, they don’t teach it anymore.” He offered you his arm as he walked you out to the car. “And besides what did I say about calling me Barnes. We’re not here for you to bark orders at me anymore, we’re here to play civil.”

You smirked as he opened your door for you. “Is that what you said? All I heard was that you like it when I boss you around.” You could hear him choke a little bit as he shut the passenger door before getting in on the drivers side.

“Now remember, we’re Mr. & Mrs. Laker, the rich real estate investors who just moved here from LA. We’ve been married 8 years now.” He said switching focus on getting to the gala.

“Kids?” You asked teasingly.

He smiled, “No, we're just waiting until things settle down with our work.”

“Aw I was hoping for a James jr.” He just shook his head. Your gaze shifted to his grip on the steering wheel where you almost lost yourself in THE thoughts again.

Damn get it together.

“Now you remember the layouts right.”

“Yes, I reviewed them this morning.”

“Good.”

He stopped as he pulled up in front of the venue you had scoped out just a few days prior. He put the car in park before walking around to your side opening the door for you and extending his hand for you to take. “Mrs. Laker.”

“Thank you, Mr. Laker.” You instinctively played your part and locked your arm in his.

“Here,” He tossed the car keys to the valley. “Not a scratch on it.” He added before leading you inside

As you entered the gorgeous high-class event waiters swarmed around you offering different champagnes, wines and finger foods, the room alive with rich people's conversations and music.

You smiled with your best rich lady smile as you let Bucky lead you around the party, choosing a table where you had a clear view of the event you set down grabbing a drink as you did so. You could feel your death grip on the glass as you forced yourself to keep your eyes on the dance floor where a few couples swayed and not on the very handsome man beside you.

Bucky placed his hand gently on your thigh as he took the glass out of your hand. He leaned in his face close to your ear in a way that made your brain short circuit. “We’ll have a better chance of bumping into Lestrade if we don’t stay in one place.”

You swallowed hard, “What do you suggest?”

He pulled away so he could look in your eyes, and you have to stop yourself from staring at his lips. “How about a dance,” He paused, offering you his hand and making sure the surrounding others could hear him. “Sweetheart.”

“Of course dear.” You smiled, kicking yourself for forgetting it all for the image of playing a married couple.

As you reached the dance floor his arm slipped around your waist, his hand on the small of your back causing you to stiffen. His metal hand gently held your right hand while your left hand rested on his bicep.

His steps were smooth with years of practice, his subtle pushes and pressure on your back letting you know where to step next.

“Now where did the soldier learn to dance?” You smiled as he shook his head.

“Like I said doll.” He licked his lips looking down at you with an ease in his eyes, you hadn’t seen before. “It's called class, they don’t teach it anymore.” He leaned in, pulling you to his chest so that he could whisper in your ear. “Trust me you won’t find anyone else who can do it like I do.” You could feel his smirk, “dancing that is.”

“Yeah, is that so Barnes? Show me your moves then.”

He didn't hesitate to spin you out and turn you around so that you swayed with your back to his chest. The heat pulling in your stomach where he now rests his metal hand over top of yours. You felt his lips on your ear. “Oh I’ve got plenty of moves.” You held in a sigh as you let yourself get swept up in the closeness.

“Lestrade, 10 o'clock, mingling at the drink table.” Your brain turned back on as your focused turned back to the mission, the song you had been dancing to fading out as it ended.

You pulled away from him, trailing off the dance floor. “You know sweetie, I think that dancing made me fairly thirsty. I need another drink.”

“Anything you want sweetheart.” He called as he followed suit.

It was going to be a long evening.

Part 2

Coming soon

[temilyrights]

43) “god you’re so emotionally constipated.” for Emily x Reader please.

history smothers us

emily prentiss x gn!reader

summary: years of unspoken words and misconceptions threaten to destroy what remains of a once close relationship. you couldn't imagine your life without emily. now you look at her and feel every part of the ocean that destroyed you both. featuring prompt "god you're so emotionally consitpated" from my prompt list.

word count: 2.3k

warnings: angst with a happy ending. mention of blood. no use of y/n. set in season 12. unit chief prentiss.

a/n: thank you so much for the request <3 sorry it took me a while I struggled to find the right idea. I imagine this wasn't what you had in mind but I do hope you enjoy it anyway. also side note: i've deleted my taglist, i'm restarting because it was years old so if anyone would like be re-tagged or anyone new would like to be added pls lmk!

The police lights flash in the midnight sky. Agents and local police spread across the farmhouse. And you, sitting in the back of an ambulance, blood dripping down the side of your head, the beginnings of a headache making itself known.  

The bright torch shining in your eyes makes you wince, but the EMT clears you of a concussion and hands you pain meds to swallow. You drag your hand through your hair, a frustrated sigh leaving your lips. 

The unsub had come out of nowhere and whacked you over the head with a metal pole, and he probably would’ve done a lot more if it wasn’t for Tara being two steps behind you. 

Honestly, you were fine. A little banged up, with a nasty bruise already forming, but the blood had been wiped away and it was almost like it had never happened.

Well, apart from the very angry Unit Chief Prentiss stalking towards you. 

You wish this was an unfamiliar sight, but god she’d been back months now and you don’t think her smile had been pointed in your direction once. 

“What were you thinking?” She scolds, voice sharp and eyes narrowed. You don’t miss the shaking of her hands as she holds them tightly on her hips or the rising flush of her cheeks, both she would blame on the cold but you knew they were born out of concern, not that she’d ever admit it. Not anymore.

“I’m sorry I didn’t realise the FBI now required its agents to have the abilities to see through walls.” You roll your eyes, the half-joke an attempt to fix her glare, but you know even as the words pass your lips it’s futile. Your shoulders slump, already tired for the fight ahead,  “He came out of nowhere, Prentiss.” 

Her lips purse, “They require you to be able to clear a room. It seems you might need a refresher course. Maybe until you can be trusted and I deem you requalified it’s best you stay back in quantico.” 

“What?” You ask incredulously. Of all the dumb things- “Let me get this straight, you’re benching me over nothing? Tara was through that door seconds later. I wasn’t defying your orders. You have no reason to do this!”

“I want you to redo your basic training so I know you can be trusted in the field.” She demands, stoic, serious, and so far away from the soft woman you used to be able to reach out to. 

You laugh, but the noise is sad and wild. You shake your head in disbelief, watching the woman in front of you that years ago used to be the person you were closest to in the world. Now you stare at her and feel every part of the ocean that destroyed you both. “God, you’re so emotionally constipated.” 

“Excuse me?” 

You push yourself off the end of the ambulance, bringing yourself to your full height and meeting her gaze. You knew the day she accepted the unit chief position this wouldn’t end well, there was too much history, too much the two of you had left unsaid, hurt and anger smothering any possible relationship left. 

“Let’s not pretend this has anything to do with my performance.” You begin,

words low enough that if she didn’t listen the words threatened to disappear with the wind, “It’s because I got hurt and you’d rather damage my career and ruin the tatters of our relationship than admit that me getting hurt scared you.” 

Emily steps backwards, face stricken. Her hands fall from her hips, her mouth opening and closing as she struggles for words. 

You decide there’s nothing left she can say. You excuse yourself and grab a lift with Luke, happy to leave the crime scene and your boss behind. After everyone’s finished at the farmhouse and packed up at the police station it’s nearing two am and everyone is ordered back to the hotel to catch a few hours of sleep before the flight in the morning. 

Your feet are dragging by the time you make it to your room. The meds have done their job though and your headache had faded away, but nothing but sleep was going to help your heavy and aching bones. You wave a tired goodbye to Tara, who unlike Emily had no issues checking in and making sure you were okay, and then retreat to your room. 

You slump into the chair at the desk, telling yourself you’ll find the energy to get ready for bed in one minute. But so thankful to finally be off your feet. Your reprieve lasts only minutes before a knock sounds at your door. A withered sigh leaves your lips and you consider ignoring it but still find yourself pushing yourself upright and making your way back to the door. 

When you open it, you wish you’d listened to your thoughts. 

“Hi?” You say hesitantly, staring into the tired face of Emily Prentiss. There’s no anger, her shoulders are almost slumped, defeated maybe? You look away, too scared to analyse further. 

“Can I come in?” 

You open the door further allowing her entrance. She smiles, tight lipped at you, nodding her thanks. You close the door and wait for her to speak, pondering how in the hell you both got to awkward silences and forced tight lipped smiles when years ago you two could share looks across the room and know what the other was thinking, spent hours talking and laughing together, how you had built a life and never thought there would be a day that she wasn’t in it with you. 

“We can’t go on like this.” She starts eyes meeting yours before flickering away, “Things between us have not been right since I returned and I think maybe we should clear the air. I want to be the Unit Chief, I want to be back here at Quantico but that only works if we can be a team.” 

You scoff. It slips from your mouth, uncontrolled and harsh. Emily’s gaze snaps to yours, her surprise at the sound clear. You shake your head, “What is there to say?” Where would we even begin?

“I-” She chokes, blinking as the emotions claw at her throat. “I’m sorry for hurting you.���

Your brows draw in confusion as you shake your head, “What are you talking about?”

“After everything that happened with Doyle-”

Your eyes bulge, “You think I'm still upset about that? God, do you think I’m a monster? You survived. You lived. That’s all that matters.” 

Tears pool in her eyes, but she blinks them away, her gaze shifting to the wall as her fingers pick at a hangnail. She looks back at you, still picking, gaze more open and lost than you’ve seen in a long time. “Then why? I hurt you. I can see it in the way you can barely stand to be around me, like it hurts you to even be in my presence.” 

You blow out a breath, eyes moving around the room before they land back on her and then away again. “It’s not your fault.” You breathe, emotions lodged in your throat and heart beating wildly against your chest as you try and force the words out. “You didn’t hurt me, I hurt myself. There was never going to be a life I led that you weren’t right with me, you know?” You laugh, wet and broken. 

Emily’s mouth falls open, her eyes emotional pits that you don’t dare hold. 

“And then you left for London and I couldn’t exactly be upset because I had no say in what you did with your life. We were just friends. I knew it’s what you needed and I don’t resent you for that. I just…” You take a breath, “I was so angry at myself for missing you, for thinking that I could be someone you would stay for.”

And there it was. The truth. Because at the end of the day, you’ve always just wanted to be enough for the woman in front of you. For her to see you as more than just your friend. To one day have your feelings returned. 

She’d left and you’d both been busy and you’d deliberately tried to separate yourself as well, drawing back from the painful reminder that you weren’t enough. And since her return, all those emotions have been resurfacing, however much you tried to keep them buried. Because falling out of love with Emily Prentiss was just not something you were capable of, and you’ve spent years trying too. 

Emily approaches you, the space between you closing ever so slightly. Your gaze sticks to the ground, scared to see the easy to read emotions across her face. She takes a breath, the sound muffled by the beating of your heart.

“After I came back from Paris, I used to find myself looking at you and knowing I couldn’t be that woman you remembered, the one you sought for. I wanted to. Desperately.” Her voice hitches, and then lowers to a hoarse whisper, “I wanted to be the woman you fell for.” 

Your eyes finally rise, against your will. Tears make their way in delicate paths down her cheeks, she looks every bit as lost as you feel. The only thing stopping you from falling apart is the fear that if you let go you may never recover. 

“I didn’t need you to be anyone. I just wanted you to be yourself. I wanted you to trust me.” You respond gently.

She shakes her head, “No, everyone was looking for that version of me that I couldn’t grasp onto.”

“Emily,” You sigh painfully. Her face crumples, eyes squeezing shut at the sound of her name from your lips. It’s been so long, you know. “You were healing from a trauma. I’ve always wanted the authentic you, whatever that includes. Why would that suddenly change?” 

She nods, a deep frown on her face as she accepts your words. Then a wet laugh, as she wipes away her tears. “I’ve missed you. Every day. I hate being in the same room as you and it being awkward. I used to be able to look at you and know what you’re thinking. I want that back.” 

A small smile curves your lips, “Me too, more than anything.” 

“Yeah?” She questions. Her teeth run across her lip, as she dares to hope. “You think we could get back there?” 

Your heart hammers. “I just need you to be really clear here. What exactly are we getting back to?” 

She steps forward, finally close enough to touch. Her hand hesitantly reaches out and touches yours, her cold fingers intertwining with your warm ones. Your body remembers her touch, relaxes and leans into it automatically. You eat it hungrily, tracking the movement before your eyes rise to meet hers and find soft, open eyes watching you. “I want to make you fall in love with me again.”

Your breath catches in your throat, tears pooling in your eyes as your hand shakes in hers.

“And this time, I promise, I’ll be there to catch you.” 

“We might have a slight problem with that plan.” You laugh, trying your hardest not to sob.

She frowns, nose wrinkling in the way you adore. “What’s that?” 

“It’s pretty difficult to re-fall in love when I never stopped loving you in the first place.” You huff, and Emily laughs, rich and free and bright. Her face joyful and happy, and with the wide bright smile you’ve waited months to feel pointed in your direction. God the sight makes your head spin.

“Is that so?” She asks, hand moving up to cup your cheek, eyes full of love and pointed at you. 

You can only nod, dizzy from her attention and the emotions coursing through your body. 

When her lips find yours it feels like finally coming home. Soft and delicate, both too scared to push too hard, exploring slowing even as her hand holds your cheek and yours fists in her shirt. You’ve waited years for this, and if you get more of these than it will be worth it. Everything is worth it for the feeling of Emily in your arms. 

When she pulls away, it’s too soon. You follow her mouth and she concedes and gives you a couple more slow kisses before she stops herself, resting her forehead against yours.

“I just want to say sorry for earlier.” She whispers into the safe space you’ve built. “You were right, I was scared when you got hurt. Dave’s already kicked my ass for my response, you won’t receive any disciplinary action.”

You nod slightly, her forehead moving against yours, “Thank you.” 

“It won’t happen again.” She promises, sealing the words with a kiss to your lips. 

“I know.” You kiss her again, but this time you break out into a yawn midway through. Your momentarily forgotten exhaustion, making itself known. 

She melts against you, caressing your cheek. “Oh, you need to sleep. We can talk more tomorrow. I’m taking you out for dinner.” 

You bite your lip to hide the smile threatening to take over your face, “A date?” 

She chuckles, rolling her eyes. “Yes, a date. But only if you sleep first.” 

“Your wish is my command.” You can’t stop the grin from taking over your face anymore. You press a peck to her lips and lead her back towards the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“Tomorrow.” She agrees, eyes fluttering over your face as if she’s committing every aspect to memory. “Sleep well.” 

“You too.” 

She presses one last kiss to your lips before she opens the door and makes her exit. You close the door quietly behind her, sinking back into it and allowing the giggle to finally escape your mouth.

What the fuck had just happened. 

Emily Prentiss kissed you. 

Emily Prentiss has feelings for you. 

You weren’t alone.

You bite your lip and push off the door, finally ready to get ready for bed and praying come morning that this would still be your reality.

taglist: @aburman03

[justhereforsomethingnice]

“Great, welcome mr. Wayne.” Danny sighed when a man who introduced himself as Bruce Wayne entered the shop. “So happy you could make it. I’m Danny, I’ll be doing your reading today.” God, one ounce of energy less in his words and he wouldn’t be only dead on the inside anymore.

The man beamed at him. “Amazing to meet you Danny. Say, I’ve never seen you here before, are you new?” The man asked jovially.

Danny grimaced. “Yep, now please follow me.” He was going to get so nauseas from those damn fumes back there, he just knows it. With how shit had been going, he’s going to throw up that one sip of milkshake he managed before yesterdays disaster on those fancy ass shoes. And that man couldn’t stop smiling and touching every damn little trinket on his way to the back.

“And what is this,” Wayne asked holding up a shiny trinket, immediately dropping it and picking up the next one, “fascinating, and this? Is this a spell book, how peculiar.” Danny was going to add another shade to the collection here.

He finally reached the room. “Sit down over there please mr. Wayne. Now, what exactly did you want to achieve when coming here?” He asked. The only thing miss. Claire told him to actually do before the reading.

The man actually seemed to become bashful at that, a bit nervous. He wrung his hands before rubbing one of his hands over the opposite wrist. “I was actually hoping to talk to some resently deceased people. A friend of mine died and but was very fond of this shop you see.”

Danny held in the sigh. Great, it was most likely the woman with the pearls floating behind him. “Let me guess, lady, dark hair, nice pearly necklace.”

The man seemed caught of guard for just a second before becoming it seemed angry. Or just very very sad. “See here young man, I will -,”

“Yeah yeah, save it.” Was he being an ass? Yes. Did this man deserve it? Most likely not. Did he care? No. He just spend the entire night trying to find shelter for the rain just for it to either crumble, leak anyways or in one kinda memorable occasion, blow up. So no, he did not care that he hurt some Vlad’s 2.0 feelings. The woman eagerly began speaking so he just repeated what she said. “Great, so she wants you to not let the Matt hatter ruin Alice in wonderland for you?” Danny looked at the lady like she had gone crazy. “Really, that’s what you’re starting with? Anyways.” He sighed.

The man had become silent at that. “Also, we I ask Alfie?” He looked at the spirit lady who nodded enthusiastically. “Give you the book he wrote named ‘how to navigate social situations: a step by step guide’ and use it to finally have a good talk with her grandson.” Okay, so rich dude had family issues. None of his business. “And, in her words, ‘chance the time on the grandfather clock, this is just getting depressing’ whatever that means.” The man was just silently staring at him now.

Another ghost tapped the lady on the shoulder before he turned to Danny too. “And great, another one joined.” They linked hands. “So it’s a date now, great.” He grumbled more to himself. So it was two friends who died and not just one. Okay, he could deal with that. “He says that they will always love you no matter what.” So it was a lovers affair instead of just friends? “And that the name you’re looking for is Edward Colson? Sheesh, was this a murder or something.” The two were getting more exited and talking his ears off.

“One at a time please.” He glared to mr. Wayne’s left. The man glancing behind him, predictably seeing nothing. “Anyways, was that what you came for? Or do you need anything else?” The man seemed to have actual tears in his eyes.

“You can see my parents?” Danny snapped his eyes to the two who looked sadly at their apparently son. Well, that explained the fashion choice. Also, that was almost worse then a love affair murder case.

Danny just stared at the man and didn’t really know what to say. He was translating this guys dead moms words to him. Ancients, he was an asshole. Stupid, idiotic, moronic move Fenton. Great, how to cut this off as soon as possible. “Only for a while. The power in this room will fade in a bit.” The man was a totally different person now. Danny hesitated. “Do you want to say anything to them?”

He thinks he had much more tact just now than in the past 10 minutes. “I’m sorry.” The two ghost seemed to decent on the man. Cooing at him, telling him he was not at fault, that he couldn’t know, couldn’t have done anything, was only a child when it happened.

“Ah screw it.” Danny said before making just the tip of his finger invisible. That should contain the spirits becoming visible in the area, right? He was still debating wether this was a mistake or not while the spirits of Martha and Thomas Wayne became visible to their sons eyes. Ancients he needs Jazz.

I’m a Size Medium, Thanks.

Danny is irritated. No actually he is beyond irritated. He is annoyed, he is frustrated, he is…. He’s really fricking irritated and can’t be bothered to remember any more of Jazz’s SAT words.

He continues his glare out the window as he searches for his straw with his mouth.

He just- where is it- thinks it’s a stupid fricking-stupid ass milkshake-he shouldn’t have to basically-gah! Danny snaps his head down to find his suddenly missing straw, only to successfully poke it directly into his eye.

“Ow! Fricken-“ He groans, throwing his head back, and putting his hands to his face, “Mother-tucker, Holy Taming of A Shrew!” He pounds his free hand not cradling his eye on the table, trying not to make more of a scene. Of course, this utterly fails because it immediately tips over his milkshake glass with a clatter as it spills onto his pants, making him jump up with enough force to knock the table over and drop the milkshake glass the rest of the way to the floor.

Danny stares at it with blurry vision and a watery eye. He sighs, “At least-“

The glass shatters.

Danny sighs again, deeper. “Of course.”

He looks up at the restaurant around him. Noticing the many, many people staring at him.

Wonderful.

Danny grimaces, “Sorry, I so didn’t mean for that to happen, uh-“ Danny reaches to straighten the table, fumbling for a second before it stands upright, he steps away from it, “If there’s any way I can help or.. like fix it. I can pay for the cup..” a server comes over to him, “if you want..?”

The server’s dead eyes don’t waver as they silently place a wet floor sign over the spilled milkshake.

“Thanks.”

“Uh huh.”

The server walks away, leaving Danny to sigh all on his own. He leans over to grab his backpack from the booth, checking it over for milkshake before slinging it on his back, thankfully clean.

He makes it one step forward before he feels the floor go out from under him. Ah gravity. His greatest enemy. This is karma for all those times he’s ignored it, isn’t it?

The wind is knocked out of him when his back slams to the floor, cushioned by the dulcet sounds of his bag crunching against broken glass.

He looks up at the wet floor sign.

The man on the yellow plastic mocks him.

Danny sighs.

He curses his stupid luck.

He curses this stupid city.

Then he curses himself because he knows any of this stupid city’s curses end up affecting him anyways.

Danny gets to his feet, ignoring the feeling of milkshake on his hands and his… everywhere.

He trudges out of the diner without looking back. At least he’d already paid for it.

He grimaces at the milkshake handprint on the door, trying to wipe it away with his shirt and only succeeding in making it worse.

Danny catches the eyes of the server inside, staring at him, eyes progressively more annoyed.

Danny puts his hands up in surrender and backs away.

Directly into a person. Only his milkshake covered self prevents him from being hit with anything more than the man’s scathing glare.

He puts his hands back up and moves away to dodge everybody else on the sidewalk. Along with the occasional ghost. Visible only to him of course.

By the time he has managed to escape the sidewalks into an alley, he is certain there is a trail of slightly sticky businessmen behind him.

Danny crouches to swing his backpack down in front of him and take stock. Okay, he could put his sweatshirt on over it… but it would also get ruined… damn it.

Danny looks around, checking every inch of the alley for cameras and then backing himself into a corner just to be safe. The flicker of intangibility is barely noticeable except for the wet squelch of milkshake remnants dropping to the alley floor. Lovely.

And of course, the flash of every single Gotham ghost in the area becoming visible and almost tangible for a split second. Also… lovely. There’s a couple startled shouts on the street.

Maybe an alleyway was not the best place for that.

Danny slides his sweatshirt on over his shirt to at least pretend like he was covering a mess and then shimmies out of the alley while trying to make as little contact with ghosts as possible.

He’s almost completely certain he looks crazy as all get out if the stare he gets from a passerby means anything.

Of course… now he’s left glaring across the street again.

He can feel the Infini-Map burning a hole in his backpack. It said this was the next place a natural portal would open and get him back home.

It just didn’t say… when that portal would open.

But of course, it’ll be right in the middle of somebody’s store. Usually not an issue. Except again, this stupid city’s curses are attracted to his energy, so of course the store couldn’t be literally ANYTHING ELSE!

Danny glares at the stupid fricking sign and the stupid predictable pun and the stupid neon hand in the front window waving at him.

‘The Claire Witch Project: psychic, medium, and Claire-voyant’

Danny is on day three of simultaneously avoiding the entire building while remaining close enough he can be there when the portal forms.

He is dirty, tired, and running out of money. In short, Danny is starting to lose hope on this endeavor.

The worst part?

He has the perfect solution.

There’s a pathetic little piece of printer paper taped to the inside of the window.

‘Help wanted’

When he’d first gotten here, Danny had followed the infini-map all the way to this horrific city, seen the sign, and turned a quick 180. He’d rather die again thanks.

He’d smacked into two billboards just coming into the city, and there was literally no stars, why would he want to stay here till the portal opened when he could just find another?

Except.. Danny’s eye twitches dangerously as he thinks back on it- except there wasn’t another portal. This was it. For the foreseeable future, he either caught this portal or was stranded for whoever knows how much longer.

Danny sighs again and dreads his continued existence. He looks both ways on the street, takes a step forward, nearly gets run over, steps back, and turns for the nearest crosswalk.

Fine. He could follow rules if it meant increasing his chances of leaving.

He tries to hold in the sigh this time, he really does, he swears.

Not the one before he opens the shop door though, that sigh deserved freedom from his trials. It joins the myriad of whispy translucent shades lingering in the store. Because of course there was just enough spiritual energy in here for them to be visible to him.

“Hey there!” A girl in loose fitting colorful clothing appears from behind a corner, “I’m Claire! How can I help your life journey today?” He can see the way her bulky crystal hair accessories sway with her movements. What was he getting into here again?

Danny tries to ignore the incense shoving itself up his nose as he speaks, “Hey, I was…” He was really doing this huh? “Hoping that the help wanted position is still available?”

The girl looks him over as she moves to the back of the checkout counter. The clear observation makes him nervous, and he takes his hands out of his pockets to try and look marginally more… candidate-able.

“You have experience?”

“Sure d-“ He wants to throw up in his own mouth, ancients this is so cringe, just let him die, “Sure do!” He says through choked back vomit and false cheer, “I’m a…” -barf- “I’m a medium.”

“Oh don’t worry about that, you don’t need a uniform, I don’t need your size silly!”

Danny blinks. What? Also. What?

“Wait-I’m hired?”

Claire pauses from getting something from under the counter, “Didn’t I already say that?”

“Uh…” Danny’s eyes dart around the shop, “No?”

“Oh well, you are, you have the right vibes, don’t worry,” she slides a few papers onto the glass counter, and Danny is abruptly, horrifically reminded he has no legal documents to speak of here. He thinks. He hasn’t actually checked.

Crap.

“Of course, most of my clients pay in cash, so I’ll pay you in cash too just to make it easier, and any crystal sales I’ll just add to it. Sound good?”

“Sure?” Oh no, is this gonna be Danny’s first real job? “But I don’t know anything about crystals. I have a goth friend but she’s not into that stuff.”

Claire waves his comment away, “Oh no worries, I can leave a packet.”

Danny nods, “Thank- wait, sorry. Leave?”

Claire laughs, pulling out a bag from behind her counter, “Yes I leave for a trip in two days. Family things you know,”

Danny feels like his brain is being scrambled, “Oh, what, what happened? Is everything okay?”

Claire looks at him, blinking wide, “What? Why would anything have happened?”

“Because… you said, you were leaving for-“

“Just don’t want to get caught in a bad position, you know how it is.”

Some of the shades stir in the air, their misty movements twitching with agitation enough to draw his eye for a second.

“Right. Well I’m glad I came when I did then,” Danny says, because he still doesn’t want to be rude.

Claire smiles at him.

Danny pats his hands against his sides awkwardly, trying not to look up at the movement of the shades intertwined with incense smoke at the ceiling.

There’s a little jingle behind him, which he belatedly realizes is the door when Claire moves to greet them before he can even turn around.

“Ms. Jives! Wonderful to see you! How’s the goldfish?”

Ms. Jives turns out to be a slightly older woman, maybe early seventies with a cane but she looks good. The coffee brown hair is almost certainly a dye job but it frames her wrinkled face well.

“Oh Jim is lovely dear, much better this way, I bought him a new plant just the other day, he just loves it.”

“Good, here for your reading right?”

“I am! But you can finish up with your customer first if you need,” Ms. Jives says. Claire waves her concern away.

“No need, this is Danny, I just hired him, he has a similar mystical connection.”

“Oh that’s lovely,” Ms. Jives says as she passes by him, “Would you like to come with dear? Claire is going to do a reading for me.”

Danny grimaces, “Sure.”

In the end, by the time Ms. Jives makes it slowly to the back room, Danny is trying to think of where he’s gonna sleep tonight. He mostly zones out when Claire dims the lights and starts talking nonsense.

All he heard was “something something card, something something magician something reversed something something balance something something chihuahua.”

Ok, maybe he wasn’t listening. But he was trying to focus on not staring at the movement of the shades, and the incense was mega strong and Claire had some weird ass music playing. He’s almost certain she’s faking everything. Down to the atrociously bright bead earrings.

Danny sags when she finishes, all too happy to leave the weird little curtain covered room.

He stands in the front awkwardly while Ms. Jives pays, twiddling with the various crystals and trying to figure which ones are actually y’know.. mystical or whatever.

Answer? Surprisingly most of them. That he could tell, at least, but it’s not like he actually knows how to sense that out on purpose. He’s pretty sure a couple of the heart shaped rose quartzes are complete duds but what does he care.

He’s thoroughly bored by the time Claire calls him back over. Apparently to tell him that he’ll do a reading tomorrow.

“Tomorrow?!” Danny blurts, “Don’t you want to like- I don’t know, make sure I can- or like.. I don’t know, but tomorrow?”

Claire just smiles at him, “I believe you can handle it, trust me.”

‘Trust you? Lady, I just met you and you’ve been nothing but crazy the whole time!’ Danny wants to say, instead, he keeps his mouth shut and nods with what he’s sure is fear in his eyes.

Then she’s pressing something into his hands and when he looks down it’s a key. A key. There’s no way-

“So be here 9am sharp, Danny! You can open up and I’ll come in later!” Claire starts pushing him towards the door, “And Mr. Wayne should be waiting for you when you get here!”

Danny turns around to catch himself in the doorframe, “Mr who will be what now!? Wait, Ms. Claire, Ma’am- why-!” He stops to lower his volume and ask politely, “Why am I doing this? You don’t even know me,” Danny says, one leg still in the store.

Claire smiles, “Because the universe told me to silly! See you tomorrow! Here’s my number!” Then she slaps a sticky note to his chest with enough finality that Danny takes a step back. The door closes with a click and ring of the bell inside.

Danny stares at the door with his eye twitching for at least a minute.

What the hell did ‘the universe told me to’ even mean, you kook!?

Danny sighs and looks down at the sticky note, quickly inputting the number in his phone before something happens to it.

He’s barely hit save when he finally steps away from the shop front and…. is immediately drenched to the bone.

Because apparently it’d been pouring rain and he simply hadn’t noticed from under the awning.

He watches as blue ink slides off the sticky note in little sad face streaks.

Danny sighs.

[foreingersgod]

Kiss Me ? . CC

pairings: caitlin clark x reader

synopsis: caitlin should be focusing on practice, but she finds it incredibly hard to take her focus off of you

“please baby can we just go home?” caitlin groaned from the gymnasium floor, the ball that was once in her hands now bouncing carelessly on the ground.

you rolled your eyes with a brief chuckle, moving your eyes from your phone to look at her pleading expression. you adjusted yourself in your seat as you watched her drag over to your spot on the sidelines.

caitlin had been in and out of the gym, going to practices and running drills nonstop recently, and it was starting to drive her crazy. she loved basketball and she felt more than comfortable when she was playing, but damn did she miss you even more. the longer she spent at the gym was more time spent away from you, and lately it was taking a toll on her. most days she just wanted to stay in bed with you and never leave. and even though you would absolutely love that, you’d feel guilty if you were the reason she wasn’t sticking to her schedule.

you tried to be a supportive and motivating girlfriend by doing everything you could. you'd do homework on the bleachers and come to practice with her to keep her company, packing her a small lunch and making sure her water bottle was filled. and, on days you couldn't attend, you'd write her a small note and put it in her duffle bag for a small pick-me-up.

but unlike you had hoped, your company had only made it more difficult for her to stay focused. caitlin found every excuse in the book to wander over in your direction. sometimes it was to tell you joke, other times she claimed she wanted to help you with homework, and most of the time it was just to touch you in some sort of way. kiss your cheek, rest her head on your shoulder, rub her hand along your thigh...any sort of touch, you name it and she'd abandon her drills just to do it.

"cait, we've only been here for like 20 minutes" you chuckled when she sat down in front of you, her head lolling back to rest in your lap "you need to practice"

"but i miss you" she whined with a pout "i'll practice tomorrow"

"yea you said that yesterday. and the day before that...and the day before that..." you teased as your hands instinctively came up to play with her hair, fingers toying with her head band and ponytail. she laughed at that, shaking her head although she knew it was true. you were her weak spot, that was clear "come on babe, just a little while longer and we can go home. what can i do to motivate you?"

"i dunno" she shrugged as she sat up, pulling up her socks and hoisting herself up. she pondered for a moment, eyes traveling across the room in deep thought before her face lit up excitedly "oh, i think i have an idea"

"hm?" you questioned, expecting her to ask you to run drills or pass her the balls to shoot.

"kiss me" she said, hands on her hips proudly, sly smirk tugging at her lips.

"kiss you?" your eyebrow quirked up, letting her know that you were beyond confused "how's that gonna get you to focus on practicing?"

"okay okay hear me out-" she defended, but you were still skeptical. hearing her out probably didn't entail anything good, you thought.

"alright, i'm listening" you egged her on "let's hear this idea of yours"

"so i'm thinking," the smile on her lips now even bigger "that every time i make a shot...you reward me by kissing me! it's a win-win, really, you know cause i get a kiss for doing a good job, and you get to kiss a basketball superstar"

that earned a dramatic eyeroll from you, although you couldn't suppress the lovesick grin that formed as well. she was quite creative, you knew, but you hadn't expected this sort of ploy from her. through an infectious fit of laughter, you saw her waiting for a genuine response with the repetitive tapping of her foot on the varnished floor. as corny as it was, you couldn't help but give into her plan.

"okay fine, you dork" you sighed playfully as you stood up, walking over to her "but only if you make it, no distractions"

"yes ma'am" she saluted, rushing over to her discarded ball to get started as quick as possible.

and so it started, a pattern consisting of deep kisses and effortless three pointers. you'd watch her take her position at the curved line, knees and elbows bending ever so slightly before she shot the ball straight through the net, she was flying through each shot with ease. then, after retrieving the ball, she'd jog over to you giddily, lips puckering as she waited for her promised kiss. and each time you'd smile as your arms looped around her neck and your lips pressed into hers. that feeling would never get old.

time seemed to fly by as you two continued your little routine, 20 minutes soon turned into 40 and then into over an hour. it felt as though you could have done this all day long, missing the feeling of her lips every time she ran back to the three-point line. and maybe you could have, but cailtin began to get tired, her shots getting sloppier with each passing minute. you knew that the both of you were ready to head home and get some much-needed rest.

caitlin slumped down into a seat, wiping her forehead with her exceptionally sweaty gatorade towel before pulling a spare hoodie over her head. meanwhile you helped her collect her things to make it a little easier for her. with a comforting hand on the small of her back, you guided her out of the gymnasium and made your seemingly long trek out to the car.

you got behind the wheel with an exhausted slump, caitlin already buckling herself up in the passenger's seat. you turned on the a.c. to a medium setting, just the way cailtin liked it, and turned the radio to her favorite station. she hummed, heart swelling as the fact that you knew her so well. the cold air emitting from the vents soothed her almost instantly, causing her to flutter eyes shut in content.

"babe?" you called out to an oddly quiet car, normally she was a chatter box after practice, never letting you get a moment of silence. you never complained, you loved everything she had to say "baby?"

still there was no response, only the soft buzz of a taylor swift song in the background. you shifted your eyes off the road for a quick second to look to your right to inspect the situation. you could have sworn your heart exploded in that moment, seeing her sleepy state in her seat. she had sunk deep into the leather fabric, one arm propped on the center console to hold up her head. her lips were parted ever so slightly as soft breathes escaped her, one of her hoodie strings caught between her teeth. she was completely knocked out. if your hands weren't steering, you would have taken a picture. she looked so soft and sweet, the perfect depiction of your girl.

in the public eye, she was most known to be strong and resilient no matter what was thrown at her. and it was more than true, caitlin was the toughest person you knew. but what most people didn't get to see, was this side of her, gentle caitlin who let her guard down. the caitlin who snores and drools when she sleeps, the cailtin that would turn down practice just to be with you.

the cailtin that can't help but smile when you reach over, eyes still closed as you run your thumb across her cheekbone, wanting the feeling of your touch to last forever.

[hhughes]

៹࣪ ៸៸ HOME TO YOU . . . ꒱꒱

𐙚 fic ; in which quinn comes home to you after a long road trip

𝒇𝒆𝒂𝒕. quinn hughes x gf!reader 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕. fluff and domesticity. smut. mdni. 𝒙𝒐 𝒄𝒂𝒎𝒊. as always reblogs and feedback is appreciated and I hope you liked it <3

Quinn steps through the door of your shared apartment, dropping his bags at the door with a thud and removing his shoes. He knows you’re going to scold him for leaving his stuff there but right now he can’t find it in himself to care if it means he gets to see you a little sooner. He lets out a big sigh as exhaustion settles into his bones. It’s the type of exhaustion that no matter the amount of sleep he got on the plane, won’t be sated until he gets into his own bed, with you.

He makes his way into the living room, where he finds you curled up on the couch with some movie softly playing in the background. His lips curl up when he hears soft snores from you, indicating you were asleep. He always tells you to go to bed but you never listen, always opting to wait up for him instead and he couldn’t be happier that you did because although he has to wake you up, it means he doesn’t have to wait a minute longer to see you.

“sweetheart,” he whispers softly, gently brushing some hair away from your face as your eyes flutter open.

“quinn…You’re home?” you ask groggily, a little disoriented and he takes a seat next to you as you sit up, pulling you into his side.

“I’m home baby,” he confirms, kissing your temple.

Both of you sit there for a few minutes, not saying anything, simply enjoying being in one another’s company for the first time in a few days.

“I put your towel in the drier, so it’s warm when you get out of the shower. I washed the sheets so the bed needs to be made, so I’m gonna do that while you take a shower and I’ll meet you in bed?” you ask and quinn’s heart grows twice the size with pure love for you.

You put his towel in the drier so it would be extra warm. You washed the sheets because you know he likes the feeling of clean sheets after a long road trip. He knows by the faint smell of ginger in the air, there’s a container of freshly baked cookies waiting for him on the kitchen counter, just like there is every time he comes home. Just like he knows you’ll be up before him tomorrow, while he sleeps in. Making him breakfast, and throwing his laundry in the wash so that he doesn’t have to worry about it.

“I’ll be quick,” he assures you, his voice a bit thick by his sudden overwhelming thoughts of love for you.

-

After his shower quinn joins you in bed, pulling you close. You turn around to look up at him, running your hands over his cheek and pulling him closer to attach your lips. A few kisses later, quinn is sitting up against the headboard, your legs on either side of his hips as you straddle him.

“I missed you,” quinn groans, head falling back as his hands squeezing your ass, pressing your clothed cores together.

“I missed you more,” you mumble against his neck, where your kisses had already begun leaving marks on his pale skin.

quinn puts both hands on your waist, lifting you up to stand on your knees as he pulls down your shorts. You help him by removing your shirt, kicking your pants off the bed and his eyes naturally fall to your breasts, buds hardening in the cold. He wraps both arms around you and pulls you closer, his face level with your chest, pressing kisses there.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs

“quinn, please. I’ve already waited long enough, please don’t make me wait any longer,” you whine and he grins up at you. Both of you aware who’s really controlling the situation despite you hovering above him.

“You’re always so desperate baby, huh? Is that what being away from me does to you? Turns you into a needy little slut?” he asks, tongue circling your nipple, his hand playing with the other one.

“Please” is your only response and quinn gives in, pushing you back a bit to remove his boxers, his only article of clothing and pulling you closer again, his hand wrapped around his dick, lining it up with your entrance.

“Only cause you asked so nicely,” he says, gripping your hips tightly as you sink down onto him. There was nothing like those first few seconds of being inside you. quinn was convinced nothing would ever compare. He wondered if lifting the Stanley Cup would bring him as much euphoria as you.

Your hands grip the headboard behind his head, causing you to bend forward, practically shoving your breasts in his face, not that he was complaining. The change in angle causing both of you to moan when he enters you again.

“Fuck baby, you always feel so good,” he groans against your skin, his hand trailing between your legs and thumb lazily rubbing circles across your clit.

“quinn,” you moan, your hands moving from the headboard to his shoulders, nails digging into his skin, leaving marks behind, just how he likes it. Your hips still, legs getting tired and unable to do much else but feel pleasure as quinn continues to rub your clit.

“That’s not nice baby, I just got home from a four game road trip and you’re making me do all the work,” he says, grabbing a fist full of your hair and pulling it, causing you to arch your back. His other hand lands on your ass with an audible smack when you don’t answer.

“Can’t even be bothered to answer? Too cockdrunk to even think aren’t you sweetheart?” he asks, not giving you time to try and formulate a response before both his hands slide to your hips, lifting you up and down in time with his thrusts. You can’t do anything but take it, like a little toy for him to use. The thought sends you over the edge, causing you to clench around him and he finishes inside you.

You both sit there for a few minutes, quinn still inside you. Just being close and savoring the moment waiting for your heart rates to go down.

“I love you,” he says softly, kissing you gently.

“I love you too. Welcome home.” you whisper, kissing his chest and tucking your face in his neck while his hands rub up and down your back.

He hates going on long roadies, but he loves coming home. Warm towels. Cookies. Fresh sheets. And you.

[daisies-and-domming]

Side Effects (NSFW)

Guys I’m so sorry I know I disappeared forever ago but I am back! I updated my page, and I look forward to writing for all you lovely people again! I’m back on my same old shit (absolutely vile dom!reader smut) so I hope you’re ready >:) This one's a little softer because I think Nanami deserves a bit of a soft!dom...I hope you enjoy! Feeling a little rusty so sorry if this isn't my best work :/

Summary: Your boyfriend has been on edge recently - most likely due to a rapid increase in curses over the last few weeks - so when you get a call from Shoko, you assume the worst. Lucky for you both, he’s not dead. However, she informs you that he’s experiencing some strange side effects, so you find yourself rushing to Jujutsu Tech to deal with a rather unfortunate… problem.

Warnings: swearing, smut, dom!reader, reader has a vagina, p in said v, subby!nanami, sex pollen/sex curse, semi-breeding kink, nanami gets his shit rocked, begging, overstimulation (reader and nanami receiving), unsafe sex (wrap your wee-wee please), a bit praise, nanami calls reader wife once

Let me know if you think I missed anything!!

All characters are over 18 :)

– – – 

Bzzt, Bzzt!

You groan, eyes tearing away from the screen in front of you. Life had been in a bit of a slog recently - with your boyfriend constantly away on missions and you trapped at your boring desk job, a phone call was a welcome reprieve. What was odd was the fact that your phone was ringing at all - the only calls that can get through when your phone is silenced is your parents, Nanami, and -

Shoko.

Bright letters flash at the top of your screen as you scramble away in a hurry, phone in hand. You mumble some half-assed excuse as you fly out the doors of the office, keys already in hand, and shakily answer the call.

“Shoko? Is everything okay?” you force out, nearly slipping as you speed-walk to the car. “Is he okay?”

“It’s Nanami,” she says, panic evident in her voice. “He came back from a mission today, won’t stop asking for you. I can’t quite get a read on what he got hit with yet, and I’ve never seen him like this, is there any chance you-”

“I’m already in the car, I’m on my way,” you confirm. “He’s okay, though? No obvious signs of injury?”

“Nothing physical, no,” she says, and you let out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding. “But something’s still clearly wrong, and having you here might help me analyse it. Clearly he’s been hit by some effect of the curse, I’ve never seen this man frantic like this in my life.”

“I’ll be there soon as I can. Call me if you have any updates.”

Shoko hums a confirmation and hangs up, leaving you alone with your thoughts. Your grip on the steering wheel tightens, and you take in a shaky breath. What could possibly be wrong? Why did your boyfriend need you, right this instant? At the very least, Shoko didn’t seem to think it was life threatening, but what relief was that? Being a sorcerer was dangerous, hell, that was why you and Nanami had quit in the first place, but you always knew he couldn’t avoid the call of it for long. You prayed that whatever this was would be out of his system in no time.

You take the turn into Jujutsu Tech far faster than you should, haphazardly parking your car. You think you hear the beep! of your car locking, but all you can really hear in your head is the pounding of your heart. Weaving across the grounds, you rush to Shoko’s office, almost barreling into her when you throw the door open.

“Where is he? Is he okay? You didn’t call me again so I assume it’s fine, but-”

“Hey, breath,” she says, oddly calm considering her call earlier. “I figured out the issue.”

“You did?” you exclaim, a little frustrated she didn’t call you. It must not be serious if she didn’t call, but still! She could’ve at least sent a text…

She wiggles her eyebrows at you, a smirk growing on her face. “You guys have to bang.”

“What??” you flush, throwing your arms up. “S-shoko, this isn’t the time for jokes-”

“Not a joke,” she says with a grin, making crude gestures with her hand. “You guys have to bang it out of his system. Fuck. Two-man tango. ‘Make love’, or whatever. Not the worst curse to get hit by, huh?”

“You had me all worried for nothing!” you groaned, dragging a hand down your face. “I thought he was injured, or worse, dying! I could be at work right now, I didn’t even clock out! God, I’m going to be in so much shit when I get back.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No. He needs your help,” she explains with a sigh. “The gas that the curse released from its body works as an aphrodisiac, a deadly one. If he doesn’t, uhm…‘mate’ any time soon it could be lethal.”

You flush deeper, blinking at her owlishly. You waited, hoping she was joking, but she was clearly dead serious. “Where is he?”

“He’s got his own room, all the way down on the left,” she sighed, rubbing her temples. “Don’t ruin my equipment, you hear me?”

You salute, grinning at her, “Aye aye, captain!”

She rolls her eyes, watching you go. It’s going to be a long shift, she thought, rubbing her temples once again. They don’t pay me nearly enough for this.

You make your way down the hall, fluorescent lights flickering above your head. It smelled like chemicals and death down her, a terrible combo. You wrinkle your nose. How does Shoko put up with this all day, every day?

Lost in your thoughts, you don’t even realise that you’re at the end of the hall until you hear it. Frantic, almost manic, heavy breathing from the door on your left. You gulp, rubbing your thighs together. Fuck, in all your time with your boyfriend, you’ve never heard him this desperate before. Like the world was going to end if he didn’t get his dick wet. Lord, you haven’t even seen him yet, and you’re already soaking through your underwear, you can feel it. Tugging on the hem of your sleeve, you nervously raise a hand to knock on the door.

“Kento…?” you startle at the sound he lets out at the sound of your voice. It sounded like…a whine?

“Darling, ooh, darling,” he groans, pitchier than you’ve ever heard him. “You shouldn’t be here, love, get out of here.”

“Ken, honey, I can’t just leave you like this-”

“Please, before I do something I regret, you have to go- hngh!”

There’s a wet splatter on the other side of the door, so quiet you almost didn’t hear it. You freeze momentarily, not wanting to believe it.

“Ken, did you just…?”

“Fuck, darling, you don’t know what you do to me,” he groans out. You can hear it now - how he’s rutting into his hand on the other side of the door. The wet shlick of dick sliding in his hand, the way he didn’t stop, even after he came. And he’s certainly never swore this early on, before he’s had your hands on you.

“You don’t know what you do to me,” you say, fingers finding the buttons of your shirt frantically. You don’t care that you’re in the hallway, you don’t care that Shoko’s just down the hall - there’s nothing in your head but the needy sounds of your boyfriend on the other side of the door.

“Please, you have to leave-”

“Open the door, honey,” you say, voice syrupy and sweet. “Want you to fill me up so good, can you do that? For me?”

You hear a quiet “Fuck!” from behind the door and the door handle rattles as he struggles to open it in his haze. At this point, you’re dripping, and you reach a hand out to help him. Easing the door open, you can feel the heat coming off of Nanami in waves. There’s a heady scent of pure sex in the air, and you don’t get a chance to take him in before he’s closing the door and trapping you against it.

“You shouldn’t be here, love,” he murmurs against your neck, hot breath tickling your ear. “Please, go before I lose control.”

Without hesitating, you pull him back by the hair and smash your lips to his. He’s motionless against you, for a moment, before his lips slot against you frantically. His hands come to grope your sides, mean and careless with his touch. He slots his legs between yours almost absentmindedly, and his hips begin to cant against you.

You separate, panting. “So desperate you’re already humping my leg like a slut?”

He flushes, slowing his hips down. You could feel his cock twitch against you, and you grin up at his dishevelled state. He’s a wreck - his tie pulled loose from his neck, the first few buttons of his shirt undone, his pants not even off, just hanging loosely around his ankles - and you’re grateful, for a moment, for the curse that hit him. 

“S-sorry, love,” he breathes, barely more than a whisper. “Can’t control it, please, need you, need you so bad- mngh, fuck!”

You grin, lazily palming his angry cock. “Oh, honey, I’ll help you out. Think you can get on the bed for me?”

He nods, whining softly when he pulls away from your hand. He stumbles over to the bed, losing his pants along the way. He sits and looks at you expectantly, flushed all the way down his neck. His hands are shaking from how much he’s holding back, and he bites his lip so hard it bleeds as you walk over, stripping as you approach. Ever the gentleman, he doesn’t reach out and touch, though it’s clear that he wants to. But right now, you’re in control, and even with the heat coursing through his veins, he lets you take what you want from him.

“Oh, sweetheart,” you say, voice thick with need. “Gonna let me ride your cock? Let you fill me up, breed me?”

“God, darling,” he says with a groan, a bead of precum running down his angry cock. “Want to fill your pussy up, put my kids in you, make you nice and round- mmph!”

You slam your lips to his, guiding him to lay back on the bed. You throw your legs on either side of his and grind down hard, smiling against his lips at the way his hips twitch up against yours. You reach back, fumbling to grip his cock and guide it to your waiting hole. You’re soaking, and there’s a wet shlick as sink down to the base of his cock.

“Shit, fuck, sorry, honey-” His hands find the plush of your hips, and he holds you down as he cums, hot and warm inside you. Your surprised laugh quickly morphs into a moan as you feel him fill you. It’s neverending - you’re certain he’s never come this much in one go before - and you quickly regain your senses, grinding your hips in slow circles, riding him through his orgasm. His eyes are squeezed shut, and his back is arched as he twitches, but he never softens inside you.

“Already came again?” you mock, looking down at him condescendingly as he blinks back into reality. “Some curse you got hit with, must feel so good to let go, huh, baby?”

“C-couldn’t help it, fuck!” he stammers out, hips bucking into your slow grinding. “Need it, need to cum again, need to feel you cum around me as I fuck you full, please, darling, can I?”

His eyes flick up to yours, desperation evident in his gaze. Your boyfriend, who rarely swears during sex, begging you to cum? You were certainly in no place to say no!

Without warning, you pick up the roll of your hips, holding his hips down so he can’t buck into you. He moans, flush spreading all the way down his chest. His thighs are flexing below yours, aching to buck up into you, but you won’t let him.

“If you want my help, you let me control the pace,” you bluff, trying your best to keep your head with how his tip is brushing against your sweet spot oh so sweetly. “Keep trying to buck up and I’ll leave you here to take care of your little predicament yourself.”

“No!” he pants out, frenzied. “No, please, darling, don’t go, I’ll do anything, I’ll be good for you, please-”

“Yeah?” you say, grin feral as you pick up your pace even more. You’re barely able to get words out anymore, but he’s certainly not faring any better. “G-Gonna be good for me? Gonna- hngh, fuck! - fill up my pretty pussy, give me your- ahn- give me your babies?”

He nods, hand fumbling to rub at your clit. His fingers are mean, out of control, but the rough feel of his fingers against your clit is delicious nonetheless. Your head falls forward, and your hips get frantic, pace inconsistent as heat coils in your belly. 

“Close, ‘m getting close-” you moan out. “Need you to cum with me, make me full, can you do that for me?”

“Mhmm, anything for you, love,” he says, eyes fluttering shut as he loses himself to the feeling of your gummy walls around him. “Love you, love you so much, please, can’t hold on much longer, need to cum- oogh, fuck!”

With a soft ahn, ahn, ahn, you’re cumming around him, grinding your clit down into his hands as he cums, shooting his seed deep into you. You can’t help but keep grinding down, dragging your orgasm out as long as possible. You shakily drag your hips to a stop, head falling forward to knock with his. You let out a soft breathy laugh as you swoop down to kiss him again, his cock finally starting to flag inside you. As you move to get up, he grabs your waist, wincing as he holds you on his cock.

“Sorry honey, ‘m still sensitive,” he whimpers, twitching out a few more spurts of gooey cum into you. “Can- can you sit here, for a little longer?”

“Of course, Ken,” you say, smile soft as you place a kiss against his temple. “Whatever you need. Are you feeling better?”

“A little sore, for sure,” he notes, eyes roaming up your body. “Though you’re probably hurting too, is there anything I can do for you?”

You bark out a laugh, shaking your head. Really is such a gentleman, you think as you struggle to control your face. After all that, he’s worried about me?

“I’m okay, Ken, I wasn’t the one hit with a curse, after all,” you note, hands absentmindedly running up his sides. He smiles up at you, eyes heavy with exhaustion, and pulls you down into him.

“Hey, we need to clean up-”

“Just a second, darling,” he says, yawning as he speaks. “Just need a second to hold you, that’s all.”

You melt against him, knowing that you weren’t going anywhere any time soon. As his breath steadies and he drifts under you, you trace circles on his chest, letting your heavy eyes fall closed, too. He’s right, just a second…

– – – 

You wake up with a jolt to a banging on the door, a chorus of voices on the other side.

“Nanamin, I heard you got hit by a curse, are you okay??”

“Be quiet, Itadori, he’s probably trying to rest.”

“Shut up, Fushiguro, you don’t know that-”

“Will both of you shut up?? Either way, he’s definitely awake from all the racket you’re causing-”

You groan, tuning them out as you rub the sleep from your eyes. You glance up at your boyfriend, disagreeing with Nobara - Nanami was still asleep, a little bit of drool coming out of his open mouth. You cringe as you sit up, every muscle in your body burning in protest as you disentangle yourself from Nanami. You wince as you slide off his cock, his release trickling down your leg as you make an attempt to gather dress yourself. Nanami finally stirs awake, groaning softly as his bleary eyes peel open. His eyes find yours as your fumble through the clothes on the floor, throwing his pants to him. He rubs his eyes and rolls to sit on the edge of the bed, watching you intently.

“We need to get dressed,” you say, voice scratchy with sleep. “The kids want to see you.”

“Mm, they can’t wait a little longer? I want some alone time with my wife now that I’m feeling better.”

“Your wife?” you say, grinning at him. “I know I gave you a good time, but you gotta put a ring on it first, mister.”

He laughs, pulling you against him and burying his head into your stomach. Your fingers come up to play with his hair, and he breathes you in, for a second.

Soon, he thinks. Soon I’ll put a ring on that finger.

Word Count: 2675

[imtherain]

He Brings Me Flowers: (Sex Pollen/Logan) Part Two

Guess who finished this finally??? IT TWAS ME

Included is a lot of smut, some angst because of who I am as a person, after care, and snacks. Mostly it's smut though.

Lowkey could be in honor Deadpool and Wolverine being out on Disney+ today, but that's a coincidence I swear.

Hope you enjoy!

Part One

[Logan List]

[Masterlist]

Tagging all these lovely people who lowkey helped make this happen simply by telling me they wanted more

@katsukis1wife

@gothamnighthawk

@emotrash1

@squishyfruitloop

@angeiulst

@unitedbyfreak

@chubbyhedgehog

@jessie-baby-96

Anywho, at 9433 words (I am not sorry)

My body was on fire.

I tried to breathe through it, to keep whatever madness that wanted to consume me away. I couldn’t let it consume me. I shuffled in my seat, trying to put out the flames but it mostly just shifted them around.

I had to get us home.

By the time I landed the jet at the mansion, I figured I must have lost two to three years off my life from exertion alone. Holding even one person for so long took a toll on me, and since I refused to practice the skill, holding all five of them was basically me deciding to run a marathon when I hadn’t run so much as a mile in years.

Not to mention the angry gnawing that had picked up in my center that demanded I let Logan do what he had been aiming to do to me. At some point during the flight, he had shifted in my hold, trying to break free again. But all he managed to do was flop over and land with his face on my boot.

Luckily, he stopped fighting once he was using my foot as a pillow, perhaps the contact contented him for now. Unluckily, I could feel the warmth of him against me, even through leather, and the gnawing just grew sharper and sharper until I was softly moaning to myself, pretending that rubbing myself on the seat did anything to ease the fire.

But I was in no state to care by the time the supplemental staff came to get everyone. I watched them from my seat as three people in full hazmat came onto the jet to assess the situation.

“You good, Miss Y/N?” This was Hank’s voice but I couldn’t tell where it came from.

“Golden,” I managed, my eyes squeezed shut. “Just please, get these fruitcakes unloaded so I can unfreeze them,” I sounded a little drunk and I heard Hank’s chuckle.

“You did good getting everyone home,” I could hear the smile in his voice and had it been any other situation I would have preened at the proudness he was showing. But I was trying really hard not to shove my hand down my pants and all I really wanted was to get to my room and sort myself out. After all… surely, being away from the others, away from Logan, would be enough.

“Keep everyone separated for now,” Someone commanded. Logan groaned from at my feet and I knew it was only a matter of time before he broke free of my grasp. I wasn’t sure what he’d do, but I was pretty sure no one would want to witness all that… and  knew I wouldn’t be able to fight him off for long in my current state.

I almost wondered why I’d even want to.

“We’ve got Scott and Jean secured,” I heard someone shout loud enough for me to hear. I let those two slip from my hold. It felt like pulling splinters out, a moment more of discomfort, and then a relief.

“Storm and Rouge are good,” A different voice called next. I let them go and I heard Rouge shout something profane which made me smile absently. She was apparently extra feisty when she was feeling some type of way.

Two hazmat suits came and pulled Logan away from me and I choked myself on the whine that tried to escape me at the loss. A third hazmat suit sat in the copilot's chair and I was dully aware that it was Hank.

“I did some research on Malachi Mitchelle.” His voice was soothing, in a way, to my foggy brain as his voice did not stoke the fire. I nodded. “I think I know what happened to all of you to make you so… affectionate.” 

Somewhere outside the jet a roar sounded as Logan finally got free of my powers. There was a scuffle and his voice quieted down. Even the sound of him made my thighs tense.

“Not me, I’m just sleepy,” I lied. I just needed to get away, as far away from Logan, as I could. Because I was weak and getting weaker by the second, if he came asking, I’d likely give in this time. 

And then I’d never be able to face him again.

“Good, that’s good.” Hank said. “But the others then, based on the readings we downloaded from the jet and what I was able to find on Malachi…” He coughed once, uncomfortable. “Well, let's just say, Malachi was known for making people feel good and he ended up making something that went a little too far. I’m sure that’s what they got into,” 

“How do they fix it?” I asked. My eyes were blurry and I felt kinda like my uterus was going to melt down my legs at any second. I just wanted to crawl into bed and wait it out.

“The only way out is through I’m afraid,” Hank laughed nervously.

“Oh,” I managed. Maybe I’d have to be more active in my ‘waiting it out’ plan, but whatever. As long as I got away from Logan. As long as I didn’t make him hate me.

“Are you sure you’re ok, though? You weren’t exposed?” Hank asked again. I waved him off. 

“I just beat my record time for freezing someone by a couple of minutes,” I managed a smirk as pain shot up my spine. “And I did it times five. I just need a really, really, really long nap.” Hank chuckled at my tone but nodded his head.

“Alright, you still need to be decontaminated.” He stood. “And I’ll have someone come check on you, just in case,” 

“Ok,” I mumbled. But I was not going to stick around to find out what they wanted to check. I could already feel myself straining to hear Logan’s voice, but so far all I could hear was machinery and the hazmat shower.

Someone came to get me, but it took all of my brainpower to focus on being normal. I grumbled through the decontamination spray, which was dry and unpleasant like getting sand blasted.

“Wait here,” The hazmat suit that had decontaminated me said. I didn’t recognize this voice, not that I tried hard to while I was sitting on the edge of a chair, trying really hard to not call out for Logan. I knew he was in the medbay somewhere, we all were. I also knew that if I called his name he would come running and he’d be able to ease the burning ache in my core.

But I didn’t want that. 

I didn’t want him to want me just because of some stupid sex pollen. I knew Hank said the only way out was through, and from the bits I’d understood from the conversation around me, that meant you had to bang whomever it was that your body craved. Which was why I hadn’t felt the urge to jump any of the staff that were helping. 

And also why I could hear Jean and Scott going at it from across the medbay, which was as awkward as it was unhelpful to the heat in my blood.

Before the hazmat suit that had helped me returned, I decided it would be best for me to just leave. Go somewhere where I couldn’t hear the sounds of Rouge and Ororo getting off too. The whole medbay sounded like a porn set and I needed to get out of it before I made a move I couldn’t take back.

I figured if I could get to my room, I could get my own rocks off enough times to get rid of this feeling. I had toys, I had batteries, I had my hands. It’d be fine. And then Logan and I could still be friends when this was all finally over.

Walking turned out to be a specific kind of torture. 

Everything hurt. While it had kind of felt like period cramps at first, the pain had shifted and spread out. It was like my skin was trying to eat itself, like my bones were made out of razor blades. I stumbled along the hall and into the elevator to go up to where the adult dorms were.

I didn’t recall the dorms being so far away.

I leaned on the wall, thankful that the metal elevator wall was at least cool against my burning skin. Maybe I’d need to take a cold shower too. But the thought of even that made me whimper in displeasure. I knew what my body wanted, what I probably needed, and yet I so desperately denied it. 

I just needed to get to my room. To cool off. To calm down. To hold on just a little bit tighter. 

My suit was uncomfortable on my skin, I could feel the seams as though they were also razors like my bones. I was beginning to wonder if I’d made the right decision. It wouldn’t be the first time my pride or whatever, got in the way of feeling better.

The hallway seemed longer than normal as I shuffled my way to my room. It wasn’t very late in the day, and most people that lived in this wing were elsewhere and preoccupied, so I wasn’t worried about anyone hearing my moaning as I made my way past each door. 

Only three more doors until mine, but that felt like so far to go. Too far maybe. Maybe I could curl up out here in the hall and let the pain take me.

Every step shot lightning through my limbs that ricocheted around in my rib cage. My core felt like it had been filled with angry bees. I paused long enough to try to squeeze my legs together, to get some friction, hoping it would help somehow. But it did nothing. I tried to use my hand over my suit but the only thing that did was make my knees wobble and the bees inside me sting me harder. It wasn’t the correct hand, nor nearly enough touch. 

I tried to gather my strength by leaning against the wall, but it didn’t seem to help me other than to keep me from falling on the floor.

“Y/N!” Logan’s voice was like fresh rain on a forest fire. 

I didn’t have the energy to look behind me to see him coming. I did, however, feel those frustrated and angry tears that had plagued me since being on the jet finally break free. I knew I wouldn’t be able to push him away anymore and I hated that I was so weak. 

“God, baby, look at me,” He sounded so worried for me. I wished it could mean something.

“Hurts,” Was all I was able to mumble at him. I felt his hands on my arms, turning me so my back was against the wall. So that he could look at my face. My blood seemed to hum at his nearness. Like a magnet reaching for metal.

“Hank said you didn’t get hit with the pollen,” Logan’s eyes were still hazy, but he was at least restraining himself now. “Seems you lied to him sweetheart,” His fingers brushed my cheeks and I whined as if his touch hurt.

“You…?” I tried to ask why he was handling this better than before but got cut off by a wave of pain that threatened to knock me to the floor.

“Come on,” Logan said instead. I shook my head at him and tried to pull myself off the wall, to walk away from him. But I couldn’t. I had always prided myself on being strong, a sick sort of triumph at my ability to deny myself anything I wanted and didn’t think I deserved. But with this? 

I hated how all I wanted to do was bury my face in his chest or maybe just swallow him whole.

Logan got an arm around my waist to help me stand and I felt like I was drowning in his nearness. 

I wanted to get away from him. 

I wanted to pull him closer.

When I stumbled along with him, he cursed at my slowness. He paused long enough to make a decision. His hand on my chin made me look at him, but I struggled to focus on his face when I saw him lick his dry lips. I wanted him to lick me like that. Gently, softly, thoroughly.

“Stay with me a little longer, sweetheart, just gotta get to your room or I’ll have to fuck you out here in the hall,” Logan’s voice tried to remain light, as if it were a joke of some kind. But we both knew he would do exactly that if we didn’t get behind a door.

I could only whine, low in my throat, because the pain was blooming behind my eyes like solar flares. I wondered if it would kill me if left unchecked. I wondered if that would be better than giving in.

But when Logan’s lips pressed against my sweaty forehead, I leaned into him. Another kiss on my temple drew my focus away from the burning hum in my blood. The third one landed on my jaw and I turned, trying to catch his mouth without thinking. 

I knew if he touched me just a little more, the pain would ebb. I knew it. I didn’t want to give in, but maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if I got to taste him… just once. Maybe he’d be able to forgive me for just one kiss.

I heard him chuckle as I chased more contact. He was breathing hard, wanting more too.

He swung me up into his strong arms, bridal style, and I pressed my face into his neck while he carried me the last several feet to my room. If my brain hadn’t been so hazy, I would have marveled at how easily he’d lifted me, how easily he could carry me.

As soon as my door closed behind us, Logan set me back on the ground and buried his face in my neck, my back pressed against the wood. I had my arms around his shoulders still, fingers buried in his hair while he mouthed his way up to my ear.

“Say you want this, sweetheart,” Logan purred. I had one leg up around his hip, giving him room to press himself into me between open mouth kisses on my skin. My hips rolled into him of their own accord.

 I felt like I couldn’t bring enough air into my lungs, but somehow, I managed to speak.

“No,” My voice was torn, and my face wet. It felt like someone else had pulled the word from my chest, someone so far away from the heat of my room. 

I didn’t register the way his face contorted in confusion.

“Sweetheart,” It was his turn to whine. Annoyed at the thought I’d deny him. I knew the pollen was surely in his system still, making him want me as badly as I wanted him. 

Which was the only reason I still tried to resist.

“Didn’t want…” I panted, too many sensations running through me. “Not like this,” My arms made no move to push him away from me but my body betrayed my lungs as my leg shifted, trying to pull him closer. With him close like this, at least the ache wasn’t getting any worse.

“Like how then?” Logan asked. His hips bucked up into me and I felt the ache in waves as his body teased mine with the promise of release. 

Oh god, release.

I could only shake my head as I cried because I wanted things to be different. I wanted this to matter, wanted it to mean he liked me. But it was nothing other than a need we hadn’t asked for because of a mission that went weird, and that broke my heart.

Logan cursed to himself, kissing at the tears on my cheek.

“It’s ok pretty girl, it doesn’t have to mean anything, just… just let me help you, alright?” His voice betrayed an ache I didn’t expect in him. The kind of ache you couldn’t mask and you couldn’t fabricate.

“No, no… I want it to mean something… I don’t want - ahh - a pity fuck,” I said into his shoulder as my body tried to get more from him. I gasped each time his body bumped into mine while he held me against the door. Just being near him like this seemed to clear my head some though and I knew I should let my pride go. 

That we both needed this. 

That the only way out was through.

“It’s not pity,” Logan growled against my throat, something angry, something hurting. 

I couldn’t respond as I felt a new wave of pain and wanting crash through me, pulling a low whimper from my chest. What we were doing simply wasn’t enough. We were knocking at the door maybe, but we needed to step into the home beyond the threshold.

We couldn’t get out if we didn’t go through.

“I need you to tell me you want this,” Logan groaned, his mouth against my jaw. Begging, hardly restrained. A gentleman even when dosed with sex pollen. 

My chest ached for him.

“Won’t you hate me tomorrow?” I squeezed my eyes shut as he adjusted his grip on me, his hand was so warm on my thigh as he helped balance me.

“I could never hate you, sweet girl,” He said against my cheek, kissing a few more tears from my fevered skin. 

I nodded finally. 

I felt him grin against my cheek before he added, “I need to hear you say it, baby,” I could hear the same smile in his voice.

“I want… Want you,” It somehow still felt like a betrayal to admit it and as the moment drew on for a heartbeat too long, I thought for sure that he had realized he didn’t want me. That this had all been some elaborate ruse. My eyes were squeezed so tightly shut that I missed the way his face broke open into a pure joy smile.

I felt more tears in my eyes at what I thought was rejection. 

“I need you,” I pressed again, sure that if he didn’t speak, didn’t keep touching me, didn’t fuck me, I was going to die. I opened my eyes and saw his smile and my chest thawed at the happiness he showed me. I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen him smile like that before.

Logan’s hands squeezed my hips, pulling me tight against him again so that I could feel how hard his cock was straining in his suit.

“I need you too, sweetheart,” I felt his smile against my neck before he finally, finally, covered my mouth with his.

It was like wind after rain.

Something soft that whispers about tomorrows that are brighter and hurt less.

His mouth did not cool my blood completely, but suddenly, the pain was receding. I twisted my hands in his hair, holding him to me, daring him to try to pull away. But Logan’s hands were making their way into my suit, pulling zippers and searching for skin. 

He had no plans to leave me. Thank god.

“You taste so good,” He purred, pulling away to look at my face. I was sure I looked a mess, but I had no willpower left to be embarrassed about it. His eyes were glittering with mirth and heat and something my brain wanted to believe in.

“You do too,” I panted. I didn’t remember him getting the top half of my suit off, but he was tugging the rest down my hips. When did my feet end up back on the floor?

I was wearing an undershirt and a pair of close fitting shorts under the leather suit and Logan growled at the next set of barriers.

“Too many layers,” He grumbled. I pulled him back to where I could kiss him and he seemed happy enough to lick his way into my mouth while his hand stumbled blindly along my stomach in search of the waistband of my shorts.

I mewled when his fingers brushed the skin of my hip, having found their way inside. Logan chuckled against my mouth as he glanced down to make sure he was where he thought he was.

“Bed,” I commanded, brain short circuiting at the mere thought of what was to come. His hands, one still in my shorts, moved to scoop me off my feet. Both of those wide, warm palms of his squeezing at my ass as he pulled my legs around his hips. I moaned again, surprised at the heat of him pressed into my ache, and also turned on by the very fact he could lift me so effortlessly.

“Wanted to do this for so long,” Logan murmured into my throat.

“Yeah?” Curiosity more than disbelief for once.

“Yeah, pretty girl,” He was all but purring,  kissing any skin close enough to reach as he moved us deeper into my room, aiming for the bed, but not really looking.

“How long?” I wondered out loud. Surely it couldn’t be that long, but my brain was running at about 1% cognition so I didn’t bother thinking too hard about what I was asking.

“Since that time you subbed for my class,” He said without missing a single beat. He groaned at the memory. “You were wearing a dress with little flowers on it. It stopped right at your knees and all I could think about was how badly I wanted to get under that skirt,” He pulled me tighter against him, cursing at the sensation while I gasped against his shoulder.

I felt blood rush to my ears at his confession, as I hadn’t subbed for him in months, but I didn’t get to revel in it long because we’d finally made it to my bed. Logan and I toppled over onto the unmade mess I’d left my bed in that morning. 

“Fuck, I need you in my mouth,” Logan moved off of me so that he could kneel on the floor between my legs. “You going to let me taste you?” I nodded happily and he gave me a sharp-toothed grin that made me shiver. 

He easily pulled off my shorts and underwear and as soon as I was exposed to him I felt the ache rear its head again. Like hot coals dropped into my pelvis, everything was concentrated and too hot.

“Logan, please,” I whimpered. “Hurts again,” He wasted no more time and lunged headfirst into my open legs. I almost screamed at the sensation of his tongue moving up to my clit. It was too good, pure honey, and yet, entirely not enough. I reached down and got both of my hands into his hair, tugging him closer, unable to stop myself from chasing the high that was nowhere near close enough yet, by rubbing myself against his face.

Luckily, he didn’t seem to mind.

Logan moaned against me as he hoisted one of my legs over his shoulder. His free hand moved up my stomach, pushing its way under my shirt until he met with one final barrier, my sports bra. He grumbled vaguely, doubling down on his efforts with his mouth on my core. The lewd noise of him devouring me filled the room. If the pollen wasn’t clouding my head, I knew I’d be embarrassed, but he sounded like he was eating his favorite meal, slurping and sucking and making me see stars in a way I could only have dreamed about.

I felt his callouses slide under my bra, up through the valley between my breasts. He pulled the fabric up away from me and with a turn of his wrist, his claws sprang free just long enough to slice through the fabric that had dared hide my chest from him.

I gasped, startled, but also my core clenched at the show of force. Logan chuckled at my sharp intake of breath.

Logan made a noise low in his throat that was somewhere between a growl and whimper before he moved to explore this newly exposed skin. My fingers flexed against his scalp as his tongue brought first one, then the other, nipple to a hard peak.

My hands were beginning to shake as I clenched them tighter, pulling at his scalp. My body couldn’t focus on anything for very long, instead it simply demanded more, more, more.

“Fuck baby, you trying to pull my head off?” He teased, mindful not to leave me wanting while he spoke. He pressed his thumb against my clit and it shot electricity up my spine. I tried to shove his face back where I needed him, but he resisted me easily. I whined unhappily.

He pulled my hands from his hair so he could sit back on his heels. Logan seemed distracted as he ran his fingers through my sopping core again and I jumped and whined at each pass. He just continued to toy with me and I mewled.

“Need you,” I got out. I was breathing like I was worried I’d be pulled underwater at any second, trying to get as much air into my lungs as I could before the air got taken away.

“I know, baby, need you too,” He began to work his way out of his suit, but he kept getting distracted by my leg over his shoulder, my hands reaching for him, and his incessant urge to lean back in and run his tongue through my folds again and again and again.

As if just a single taste could sustain him.

The way we were sitting prevented me from seeing more than a flash of nudity before he settled again with his knees on the floor. Logan went back to his assault on my clit, but now he was teasing me with one of his thick fingers too. I groaned loudly when I saw his hips buck into the edge of my mattress. Simply knowing he was getting off with his tongue in me made the coil in my pelvis wind tight.

“More,” I demanded, feeling my orgasm finally building as he focused his tongue on my clit. “Logan, ‘m getting close,” 

“Good,” Logan responded with his mouth still against me. “Cum for me, wanna taste you, dreamed about what you taste like,” I felt his finger press slowly into me, his tongue still working my clit, and I bucked my hips up as he stopped to look at what he was doing.

“Logan,” I complained. I felt his finger slide in farther and we both cursed at the feeling of my walls gripping him. I had never been so desperate for friction in my entire life.

“So tight, so perfect for me,” Logan murmured. I just nodded as he worked another finger in with the first and I arched off the bed, chasing my high. I felt his free hand press on my hip to keep me here on earth with him as he pumped those two wicked fingers in and out, licking at my clit all the while, as though it were his favorite brand of lollipop.

I couldn’t warn him before I actually came.

My ears were ringing as my body burst into a million pinpricks of light. Nothing else mattered as the waves came up and broke over me, Logan pushing me far past where I would have stopped had I been alone. When my pieces resettled into a sentient being I got only a few moments of clarity before the pollen pulled me back under.

But in those few moments, I saw how much love and affection Logan had in his eyes as he looked up at me from between my legs. He looked like there was nowhere else in the world he’d rather be.

“How was that?” Logan asked with the sort of grin that told me he knew exactly how that was.

“How are you not as horny as I am?” I complained. With a chuckle he kissed the inside of my thigh and then kissed his way up to my throat. My legs instinctively circled his hips, ready for more of him. I felt the heat of his length slide along my ass as I held him to me.

“Hank gave me something to take the edge off, some sedative,” Logan admitted dismissively. “Said he didn’t want me hurting anyone before we got ourselves sorted out,” 

“Oh,” I felt his teeth teasing the soft skin below my ear and I wiggled a bit because it tickled.

“But it’s wearing off fast,” he added cheerfully. “So I hope you’re ready for another,” 

“God yes. Please,” I whined at the thought of another orgasm. The first one had done wonders for the fire in my blood, but it wasn’t gone by any means. My bones were still feeling too sharp any time he stopped touching me.

Logan chuckled at my eagerness, but kissed me anyway. I happily parted my lips for him as he deepened the kiss. I felt his hand, warm on my hip, as he adjusted me so he could slot himself better between my thighs as our tongues took turns tasting each other. 

We both groaned when his dick slid past my clit the first time. Another pass and we became creatures of feeling and nothing more. 

Funny how you could dream of something and once you face the reality of it, it is so different. No matter what you think you know of the matter, you're so deliciously wrong. 

When Logan finally pressed his tip into me, I swear the world ended. Inch by inch he filled that emptiness inside of me, pushing out any lingering thoughts of him not wanting me. 

My fingers dug into his skin and he groaned lowly into my neck. 

“Fuck,” he growled. “Relax for me, baby,”

“Can’t,” I forced the word out as my whole body tensed up. It felt amazing to be filled, but the intrusion was also new to me. My muscles didn’t know what to do with him, but they loved the feel of him simply being there, a pleasant burn, a wondrous sort of ache.

“Breathe,” he panted. “I can't move with you squeezing me so tight,” 

“Sorry,” I had my eyes squeezed shut, trying to focus on letting my body adjust to him. He was bigger than anything I'd even used myself and I had no idea how he'd managed to fit. 

“Nothing to be sorry for,” I felt Logan's hand rubbing circles on my hip. “Just take a deep breath for me, sweetheart,” the pet name made me whimper as the pollen demanded friction I wasn't getting. 

A shaky breath escaped me. Then another. 

“That's it, keep breathing for me, just like that,” Logan praised me and I felt my face flame in pleasure. I could feel my muscles finally loosen as he pressed gentle kisses along my throat. “I'm gonna move now,” he warned. I nodded quickly, eyes still shut. 

He pulled his hips back slowly, then pressed himself back in, this time somehow farther into me than he was before. My head felt hazy as he did it again. And again. And again. I could only let out little groans of pleasure as he split me apart.

“Look at me, baby,” Logan had a hand on my face again, holding me so he could look into my eyes when I finally opened them. “Doing ok?” 

I nodded almost sleepily, feeling like every brain cell I'd ever grown was knocked out of my skull. 

“I need you to say it, pretty girl,” he whispered, a gentle kiss to the side of my mouth. The pet name made me clench around him and he cursed to himself at the feeling. 

“I'm good,” I managed, wondering if I should pick a pet name for him too. But he seemed to be hogging them all. 

“That's my girl,” Logan kissed my mouth again and I could taste his grin. 

Pretty quickly it became clear his sedative had worn off completely. 

The wild look from the jet came back to his eyes as he hoisted my legs up higher in his waist, drilling down into me as I continued to whimper. It felt like he was trying to mold me to the shape of him, so that no other dick would ever fit me quite right. 

I wouldn't mind if that were true. 

When his thumb pressed on my clit again I bucked up into him, arching off the bed. Logan chuckled and rubbed tight circles on the nub until I was crying from the stimulation. 

“Need you to come for me again, sweetheart,” 

“Trying to,” I huffed out, blinded by how easy it seemed for him to lift my hips and reposition me. I knew I weighed more than he did, it came up as a joke once and never left me alone. But he didn't seem to notice or care. 

“Come on, baby, give it to me,” he begged, his other hand, the one not preoccupied with my clit, moved to tug at one of my nipples. My fingers dug into his biceps as the orgasm wound itself tight around my pelvis. I swear I could feel my nails digging in, past his skin, into the meat of him. “Fuck - give it to me,”

If he noticed how far my nails dug into him, he didn’t care, redoubling his efforts with the movement of his hips against mine.

“Almost, almost,” I chanted. “Almost,” it was just babbling now but he understood. 

It felt like heaven having something so large to clench around as the orgasm snapped through me. Doubly so when Logan's hips jerked a moment after my tremors ended and he filled me in a new way. 

For a brilliant moment, the pain was entirely gone.

We lay panting, trying to catch the breath we’d stolen from each other. Logan chuckled, but it turned into a growl as he pulled himself out of me. I couldn’t help but gasp at the loss of him.

“You got another one for me?” Logan asked, pressing open mouth kisses along my neck and chest. I closed my eyes, trying to sear this memory into my brain so I could look back at the feeling of it, not just the knowledge that it had happened.

“Yeah,” I finally sighed, a contented noise, as the warmth that lingered in me spread out again and began to smolder. The pollen really must take a while to get out of one’s system… but I found that I didn’t really mind. “Just tired is all,” 

“Poor baby,” Logan teased. “Come ‘ere,” He pulled me around so that he was behind me.

“Logan?” I questioned. 

“Just let me take care of you,” He purred, nibbling his way across my shoulder to my ear. “Or don’t you trust me?”

“I trust you,” I said, confused as to what trust had to do with it. I trusted him with most things, if not everything outside of this room. So why not with this thing, inside the room? 

“Good, now just relax and let me take care of my pretty girl,” he nipped at my earlobe as my face grew warm at his affections. This pollen was cruel if it made him so sweet only to take it away. But I didn’t find myself wanting to do anything I wouldn’t normally want to do, so maybe…just maybe…

“Ok,” I moved my head to catch his lips, and for a moment that distracted him from whatever it was he was originally planning when he got us situated on our sides, spooning, his front warm against my back.

When his calloused fingers bit into the meat of my thigh and lifted my leg up and and back to rest it over his, it quickly became clear what his plan was.

Logan shifted a bit so he could actually line himself up with me, but sank into me, deeper somehow, than ever before. I let out a pathetic noise at the sensation of being filled from this new angle. 

“Shh, shh,” Logan hushed me, placing softer kisses on my exposed and sweaty skin. “Just like before, sweetheart, breathe,” It took less attempts to fill my lungs this time, my muscles relaxing enough to let him push and pull himself through me with practiced ease.

“Feels good,” I told him, wanting him to know I was still enjoying this.

“Good, baby,” I felt him smile against my neck. “Fuck, you’re so tight,” When he rocked his hips forward, I couldn’t help but moan instead of respond.

Logan slid his other arm beneath me, the muscles fitting perfectly into the curve of my natural waist. I’d have thought my stomach would be off putting to him, but here he was fondling it, fondling me, while also sliding so deep inside of me that I was surprised I was still breathing.

Somehow, the next orgasm felt deeper, stronger, and snuck up on me too.

I came with a cry, the sound a mix of surprise and overwhelming pleasure.

“Gonna cum again,” Logan warned me. “With you milking me like that, can’t…can’t help myself,” he clarified as though I’d asked or he was embarrassed.

“Please,” I begged, eyes wet. When I moaned, the drag of his cock through my folds beginning to overstimulate me, Logan bucked his hips harder once.

“Make that noise again,” he begged in return. I was happy enough to oblige. The next moan fed into his low roar as he spilled himself for the second time into my waiting heat.

When he made to pull himself out again, I whined and scooted back against him.

“Don’t leave me yet,” I mumbled, half asleep suddenly.

“I’m not going anywhere, pretty girl,” His arms wrapped around me then and he held me close to his chest, still buried to the hilt inside me. I sighed happily.

“When you pulled out last time, the pain came back right away,” I told him.

“Oh, is that why?” He asked skeptically. 

“And it feels good,” I mumbled, my eyes closing. “Like you inside me,” But right as I was about to fall asleep, a shot went through me. Like static pains as your limbs wake up, having been asleep too long.

I felt my heart rate pick back up and my breathing came out harder.

“Back already?” Logan mused.

“I guess so,” I mourned the loss of rest, but was not opposed to more shenanigans with the man in my bed. I’d thought if he stayed inside me the pollen would wait.

“Lucky for you, I can go all night, pollen or not.” Logan bragged. I didn’t need to have my eyes open to know exactly how pleased with himself his smirk would be.

“Even with that sedative?” I smirked, but I whined as Logan pulled himself out of me. He just readjusted us so that I was flat on my back and he was looking down at me. He looked like heaven resting his weight on his elbows next to my head. He was so close, he smelled so good, and for at least this one moment, he was entirely mine.

“Sweetheart, that’s been out of my system for ages,” He leaned down to cover my mouth with his and I couldn’t help but reach up and tangle my fists in his hair. He chuckled against my tongue when I pulled to keep him close to me.

“Oh,” I said, rather shyly. 

“Why? Have I not been giving it to you hard enough?” Logan’s voice was mostly teasing, but he moved to take my bottom lip between his teeth. He tugged enough that it pulled a gasp from my chest, before he let go.

“You saying you can’t go harder?” I wasn’t sure why I pushed him, and I could blame the pollen… or I could blame all the romance novels I’d read where every sex scene was dotted with harder, harder, harder!

“Oh honey, be careful,” Logan warned, mirth and something fiery in his eyes…animalistic joy at the thought of harder.

“Oh honey,” I mocked him. “I dare you,” I used the same mocking tone and was not surprised when he growled and descended on me like a lion on a baby gazelle. 

All teeth and tongue and primal heat.

I lost count of the orgasms he pulled from me. All I knew was that I would never be able to face him if he decided that this meant nothing after all because I would never stop craving him. Having had a taste of Logan, even if it had been coerced by a silly plant, I knew I’d never crave anything else.

“You still with me, pretty?” Logan’s voice made me open my eyes again.

“Mhmm,” I murmured, reaching out to get my arms around his neck. I pulled him into me, just hugging him to me like he was the teddy bear I needed to fall asleep. He pressed his forehead into mine. I hummed, happy to have him in my arms. He pressed a few chaste kisses to my lips, gentle and sweet. 

“Do you need another?” Logan’s voice was slightly worried but I just shook my head. The feeling of the pollen clouding my head, clogging my veins… that feeling that my bones were too sharp… was entirely gone now. I was left to bask in the afterglow and tiredness of what we’d done.

“Do you, handsome?” The pet name tasted funny but I figured I could go one more round if he needed to. After all, it would only be fair.

“I was good two orgasms ago,” Logan admitted. I clicked my tongue, giving him a scandalized look.

“What?” I asked, sounding a bit like I thought he was lying.

“Yeah, the pollen was out of my head probably two ago,” He kissed the tip of my nose as I wrinkled it at him.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” 

“Didn’t want to cut the fun short,” Logan smirked. “Plus, you still smelled wrong,” 

“Oh thanks,” I rolled my eyes, feeling more like myself than I had in what feels like weeks.

“You smell much better without that sickly sweet pollen on you,” Logan assured me. He kissed the edge of my mouth, asking permission to kiss me properly. I moved to catch his lips and he purred against me. “You taste better without it too,” 

“Mmm,” I made a noise of agreement because the tiredness was back.

“I’m going to go get cleaned up, then I’ll be back to clean you up, ok sweetheart?” Logan asked, his knuckles running along my side. I nodded, feeling sleep coming for me. The last thing I heard was Logan chuckle as he moved across the room to my ensuite.

I was face down, when Logan returned. Most of my bedding had been tossed aside at one point or another, the pillows were gone and all that remained were the sheets. The fitted sheet had popped off one corner and the other sheet was only enough to cover my nudity, but it was cold and damp in far too many spots to be any sort of comfortable.

“How ya feeling, love?” Logan asked, crouching down next to where my head was. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, but it was clear he’d showered since I’d seen him last. I was the wrong way round on my bed, arms curled into my naked chest because I was cold.

“Sticky… sore… cold,” I mumbled. “And tired, but I really want a shower,” 

“Come on,” He moved to help me up and I grumbled the entire time. Logan just chuckled as he helped me into the bathroom. “Want help showering?”

“No, I’m ok,” I told him. Something about how gently he was speaking kept me from making any snide comments that may have normally slipped free. I wondered if he was being nice because he was a gentleman, or if it was because he genuinely cared. I wondered if it could maybe be a bit of both.

He reached to start the shower anyway.

“Do you want me to be here when you get out?” Logan’s voice almost hid his fear of rejection.

“Do you want to be?” I countered him, unsure if he should want to remain in my space after… all that.

“Of course,” He turned to place a gentle kiss on my forehead and I leaned into him.

“Please be here when I get out,” I said, catching his eye. He nodded as I got into the waiting warm water.

As I stood in the shower, my brain finally clear, I couldn’t help but wonder what came next. 

Would Logan want to date me after all this? Would he want to just fuck? Would he want anything to do with me at all? 

Would he remember saying he wanted me?

Instead of spiraling, I forced myself to focus on washing the sweat off my skin. I found several spots marked with Logan’s teeth, all of which were bruised or bruising. I felt my face get the sort of warm that had nothing to do with the temperature of the water running down my back.

I washed my hair, I washed my skin. I washed the evidence of fucking from between my legs. Something in me mourned the loss, if only because with the mess gone, there was less evidence that, even for a moment, he’d wanted me like that.

Eventually, I turned the shower off and wrapped myself in my towel, which was damp since someone had already used it.

“Logan!” I grumbled loudly. “You got my towel all wet!” It didn’t really matter but I was hoping he’d still be there for me to be grumpy with and it was easier than asking if he was there.

Logan appeared in the bathroom doorway, shirtless still, and wearing a pair of my sweatpants that were comically loose around his hips, even though he had the strings pulled tight.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” He moved away for a moment and came back with my spare towel. “I found this one while I looked for sheets,” 

“Sheets?” I took the towel from him and turned around as though there was any need for modesty. I put the new towel around my shoulders before letting the damp one fall, then readjusted so the fresh towel was around me properly.

“I figured while you got cleaned up, I’d work on the mess we made of your bed,” Logan’s smirk was cheeky and proud. It made my skin flame.

“Oh, well thank you for that,” I said. I went through the motions of my normal after shower routine. Brushing my hair, lotioning my face, putting product in my hair… distinctly aware that Logan was watching me from his spot leaning against the doorframe. 

I was brushing my teeth when Logan spoke again.

“I think we should talk about it,” He said with that tone he used on students when they were clearly lying to him. I wondered why he used that tone now, as I wasn’t saying anything. How could I be lying?

“What about it?” I asked, finishing up. I just needed to dry the rest of me and put some pjs on. I paused when I turned and Logan was still blocking the doorway with his shirtless chest.

“Are you good? I didn’t hurt you… did I?” Something vulnerable made its way into his eyes before he could stop it.

“I mean, you bit me in the ass, that stings a little bit,” I tried to joke. When he didn’t laugh, I shrugged. “You didn’t hurt me, but… It was a lot, I won’t lie.”

“It was a lot for me too.” He agreed. “I’d been hoping to ask you out before sleeping with you, but it seems we didn’t get much of a choice,” I choked on my own throat at his confession.

“You wanted to ask me out?” I fumbled with that idea, even after everything. No one asked me out, especially not when they meant to actually follow through. Logan nodded.

“I’d love to take you out sometimes, if you want,” He watched me with those hazel eyes and I felt a strange mix of fear and warmth at the way his face softened. “But we can talk about that later too,” 

“I’d never had sex before,” I blurted out suddenly. Logan froze. “It’s fine, and I didn’t really think it mattered to me, but… but it feels like I should say something,” 

“Well fuck,” He cursed. “That’s not how I would have envisioned it,” 

“Can’t say I ever really envisioned it at all,” I told him, trying to make it sound like a joke. 

His brow furrowed.

“Why not?”

“People never exactly lined up to take me out or sleep with me, and I made my peace with that,” I stepped closer to him and he watched until I shooed him from the door. “Let me get some undies on,” 

“I wouldn’t mind if you left them off,” Logan smirked, enjoying the way my skin darkened with a blush.

“Oh shush,” I shot over my shoulder at him while I dug out some underwear and my pjs. I picked the prettiest underwear I had, which honestly were still pretty much granny panties, but they were a cute color and design at least. And for pjs, I picked something simple, a tank and shorts.

“Are you avoiding looking at me, pretty girl?” Logan hummed from close behind me. I shivered at his sordid tone. 

“It’s not my fault you’ve decided to stay half naked and gorgeous,” I grumbled, pulling on my clothes. I felt somewhat better with clothes on, but also, it felt weird after being naked for so long.

“Can’t promise to change either of those things anytime soon,” When he pressed a small kiss to my shoulder, I jumped. “Sorry,” he purred, no longer advancing. 

“I can’t believe you still want to touch me after all that,” I said softly. There was no anger in it. No malice. Just surprise.

“Sweetheart, I’d fuck you again right now if you asked me to,” The heat of his words tore through me like a stray bullet.

“I don’t think I could handle that just now,” I forced a smile thinking about how raw I felt inside and out. “Thanks though,” 

“This ok?” Logan asked, taking my hand and turning me around. He set my palm against his sternum and his hands found new purchase, one on my hip, the other on my cheek. I nodded against his palm. “I want to make sure you’re really ok,” 

“I don’t know what you expect me to say,” I felt my throat closing on unexpected tears. I frowned at myself. “Why do I want to cry?” 

“Go ahead and cry, baby,” Logan said softly in return. “If that’s what you need,” 

“But I’m not sad,” I mumbled as tears, hot and fat, rolled down my cheeks. “What the heck,” This was more to myself and the tears streaming down my face. I tried to wipe them with my bare hand and it really only smeared them along my cheeks. Logan kissed my forehead and led me to my bed.

“It’s a lot, and new, and not exactly normal.” Logan assured me.

“What, your first time wasn’t with your crush dosed up on sex pollen?” I joked through the tears. I pulled a handful of tissues from the box that miraculously had remained unscathed on my nightstand and wiped my face with a pair of them. My lamp was in an entirely different spot. I guessed we’d knocked it over and Logan had righted it when he remade the bed.

“The first time with my crush might have been like that,” He teased back and I blushed.

“You saying you have a crush on me?” 

“Maybe,” His smirk was boyish and if I didn’t know any better, I thought maybe his cheeks were a little bit pinker than they were before.

I crawled into the bed and watched Logan stand there in my sweatpants. 

“Will you join me?” I asked carefully. I wiped at my face again and was happy to find that the tears were leaving as fast as they had come.

“Was just thinking about sneaking down to the kitchen,” Logan gave me a smile. “Unless you’ve got something else tasty hiding in here somewhere,” A sudden grumble came from my stomach as I realized I was starving. 

“I don’t know what you mean by ‘something else’ tasty, but I’ve got a stash of snacks,” I stood again and went to my closet, kneeling down to pull out one of those sort of flimsy storage ottomans you get at big box stores. Logan followed me and chuckled.

“I mean other than you, sweetheart,” He shook his head when I scoffed. “You know, you are terribly hard to flirt with,” 

“Do you want my snacks or to tease me?” I complained, leaning back so he could see my stash. I had a little bit of a lot of things in the ottoman. Everything from beef jerky and granola bars, to poptarts, to candy of all kinds.

Logan let out a low whistle. 

“I wondered how you always seemed to have the good snacks,” 

“Well Scott steals anything in the kitchen. That man is a menace to poptarts. Plus Rouge specifically takes any candy I’ve ever left in there, and I have no proof, but I’m pretty sure Ororo steals all the salty snacks, so I had to improvise if I wanted anything to be where I left it.” I sat crossed legged and pulled out a granola bar, opening it right there and taking a bite. “God, I don’t think I’ve been this hungry in my life.” 

“It’s probably a side effect of the pollen… takes a lot out of you,” Logan joined me on the floor, our legs touching while we faced the ottoman and the bottom half of my clothes over it. Logan grabbed a pack of beef jerky and I nodded when he held it up to ask if he could eat it.

I opened a pack of pop tarts next while Logan watched me break it into pieces and pop them into my mouth one by one. 

“What?” I chuckled as he absently chewed on his snack while staring at me with such adoration in his eyes it made my stomach flip. Which was surprisingly easy to handle on my current diet of poptarts and sugar.

“You’re pretty,” He told me and looked away only long enough to fish another chunk of jerky out of his bag. The bit he pulled out was one of the bigger ones and he held it out to me. “Pretty girls need protein too,” 

“You’re pretty,” I snorted, pretending it was an insult. But I took the jerky from him anyway and tore it in half with my teeth. I caught Logan swallow hard at the sight and my cheeks grew warm yet again. 

“I mean it, you know,” He added. “I’ve been around for a long time and you’re my favorite thing to look at,” I smiled at that. It was so much better feeling than the normal things he said that I didn’t believe. 

“You’re my favorite thing to look at too,” I told him, taking his hand and kissing his knuckles. He moved to press his mouth into mine, a chaste kiss around sugared and salted lips. I chuckled, giddy, when he pulled away. Maybe I could believe him.

In the quiet darkness of my closet, watching him sift through my snack ottoman, it felt like it would be so easy to believe him. To believe that he might love me.

“I love you,” I told him suddenly. He paused with his own pack of pop tarts in his hand.

“I love you too, sweetheart,” Logan’s grin was soft and so full of love. For once I didn’t look away because I figured if I witnessed it enough I would believe it. I smiled as I watched him tear into his next snack. Maybe I should stop fighting my feelings and just believe him.

It felt so easy to just give into it.

So, I think I will.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part One

[Logan List]

[Masterlist]

[ssentimentals]

Hello!! For the drabbles. Svt Mingyu, suggestive "Say the word and I'm yours!" Thank you! 🥰😍😍

hi, sweetheart! thank you so much for requesting 💜 hopefully you will like it!

suggestive prompt: 'say the word and i'm yours.'

you are not jealous. friends can't be jealous of their friends, so therefore you are not jealous. and mingyu obviously can talk to whoever he wishes, but you haven't see each other in a week and it just makes you a bit sad - sad, not hurt - that he's on the other end of the room, talking to his friend. you just miss him and would've loved to have his attention on you right now, but it's fine. it's all fine and you're definitely not pouting.

'oh my god,' hoshi wheezes, cackling deviously. 'you with yours 'i don't want his attention' and mingyu with his 'we are just friends' make the most amazing pair.'

'shut up,' you push at him, still pouting. 'and i don't need his attention!'

'mhm. that's why you've been eyeing him all this time?'

god, hoshi can be such a menace sometimes. you glare at him, raising your voice a little: 'i haven't been eyeing him!'

'who?'

of course it's mingyu. hoshi winks at you and leaves without saying anything, letting mingyu take his place right in front of you. and- he looks good. which is nothing new because mingyu always looks good, but you haven't seen him in a week, so a little staring can be justified, right? 'no one,' you say, smiling when he hands you a drink.

'did someone catch your attention?' mingyu asks, leaning a little closer. there are many unfamiliar faces at this party and he looks around, trying to judge who can possibly be his competition. 'any of the new guys?'

'mingyu, please.' you roll your eyes, not liking where this conversation is going. 'i'm not interested.'

'well they are,' mingyu motions to two guys standing not far from you both, who all look at you with equally sly smiles.

you can't believe that this is what you two are talking about after not seeing each other for a week. with an indignant huff, you hit his chest: 'how about we will discuss you choosing to converse with your old friends instead of coming over to me, when you haven't seen me in a week, hm?'

it's always been like that between you two - light teasing, flirty comments here and there. sometimes both of you act like you actually own each other in a very not friendly way, but you're not about to call him out on this, when you're enjoying this immensely. mingyu smiles at your furrowed eyebrows and leans in, cooing: 'oh, my baby wanted my attention? just say the word and i'm yours, baby.'

your breath hitches at the pet name. usually you wouldn't mind but right now it hurts to know that this is not real. 'i'm not your baby.' you say in a serious tone, making it clear that you're not joking.

mingyu's expression instantly sobers up and he stares back at you intently. there's a pause and then: 'you can be. if you want.' at your widened eyes he also adds: 'cause i want that. a lot.'

you know when mingyu is joking and when he's serious. right now he is serious and it makes your heart flutter in a very unfriendly way. 'i'd like that,' you whisper because this is all your brain can come up with right now.

and this is apparently enough, because mingyu smiles at you, open and sweet. 'then let's get out of here, baby.'

with your hand in his, he pulls you away from the party and from two weird guys who are still looking at you with sly smiles. you look at your locked hands and grin. 'yeah, let's do that, baby.'

a/n: request your own here! <3 - nini

[witches-dream]

Warning: Ramble incoming

Here's what interests me in a potential Burning Spice redemption story, specifically the scenario in which Golden Cheese takes his Soul Jam away

First off, she can't... "Claim" it fully, she can't use its power, because she's not about Destruction, which is what his Soul Jam represents. Similarly to how Spice couldn't use her Soul Jam because he doesn't represent Abundance, and similarly to how Smoked Cheese could do fuck all with it other than ruining absolutely everything. There was a reason that the initial Soul Jams got split, and now that they are separated into their respective halves, the originals no longer exist and CAN'T exist.

So that's why if Goldie were to take Spice's Soul Jam, she'd have to store it somewhere. And I'm assuming that being far away from it weakens the connection, but then again Hollyberry was taking strolls around Beast-Yeast while her own Jam was sitting in her kingdom, so the connection is still there even when 1) the Soul Jam owners are far away and 2) they have weak spiritual connection to it (as in, each of the ancients had to reconnect with their respective lights to get their full power back).

What I'm getting at is that even if Golden Cheese takes Spice's Soul Jam and fucks off with it to the other side of Earthbread, it's not guaranteed that Spice will lose his connection with it and therefore immortality. So here's a logical continuation to this scenario.

He needs to stop representing Destruction.

If he no longer believes in his power and his worldviews, if he grows weak and gives up on everything, then his connection to his Soul Jam will weaken, he will lose his powers and then his immortality.

Another option is to destroy his Soul Jam, but 1) I'm not sure that's possible and 2) if Goldie wanted a trophy would she do this?? And if she wanted to spare Spice's life, destroying his Jam would be akin to indirectly killing him cuz he would lose immortality.

But anyway. How would you even go about making the Great Destroyer not represent Destruction anymore? With even a fraction of his power left, he'd still go after Goldie. He'd force someone to use spice magic to teleport him to Goldie's kingdom. If the Soul Jam is stored there, he'd gain his powers back just from being near it. I suppose we can introduce some sorta technology, like a barrier that blocks magic, which would prevent Spice from accessing his Soul Jam's power. But, if he's still connected to it, does that take away his immortality or what?

As long as he 1) believes in the "survival of the fittest" principle; 2) believes history repeats itself with no meaningful progression; 3) has no desire to give it a chance; 4) wants to fight Goldie and take her Jam; 5) believes that only destruction will distract him from boredom and probably 6) lots of other things, he still represents Destruction and therefore his Jam is still his. How to go about tormenting him enough to break that connection is beyond me. Heck, even if he kneels before Goldie and begs her to kill him, you can argue that's still his belief that destruction is the only way.

But i digress. I don't think that you need to think that deep for a fanfic. Cuz a fanfic is always a "what if" scenario based on what you want to see, not what would actually happen, and "what would actually happen" is subjective anyways, cuz this is a fictional story and those are inherently subjective.

I guess the conclusion of this ramble is that there's not a way, at least an easy one, where you could pull such a scenario off in a canon-compliant way. Cuz if you did, all of that ⬆️ would get in the way of the actual story you'd wanna tell. But mortal Burning Spice is too cool of an idea to not allow some creative liberties even if they're canon breaking but c'mon. Who cares about "canon" when you can have fanfic.

That's all from me, good night

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Chapter 27 - Just a Shot Away

Series Masterlist

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

Chapter Title from Gimme Shelter by The Rolling Stones.

Word Count: 27.4k

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

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

Read on A03!

Chapter 26 - Chapter 28

“Can I drive?”

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

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

“No.”

“But-“

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

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

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

“Kiss ass.”

“Only for you, darling.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She swallowed. “Deal.”

“Good girl.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah. Alive.”

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

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

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

“I do?”

“No he don’t-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Cunt. I need to pee.”

“Why the fuck are you telling me that-“ 

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

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

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

Ben scowled. “No, we’re not-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“With what damn money-“

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

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

“Fuck you-“ 

“If you insist-“ 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But Ben still just fucking stared at the flowers.

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

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

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

You’re not being fucking fast, Sunshine.

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

Are you almost done.

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

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

Like what? 

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

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

What the fuck is an energy drink.

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

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

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

Ben frowned. Why. 

Because I want to watch you drink it.  

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

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

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

I’ll take whatever else you get.  

What the fuck do you want, Sunshine-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Do you want me to kill him-

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

No murder, Benjamin. 

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

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

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

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

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

She shrugged. “Then turn around.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you fucking with me-“

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

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

“Can you add that as well-“ 

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

“See? Weed-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Whatever you don’t want.” 

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

“I don’t give a fuck-“

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

“Benjamin, this is not a Red Bull-“

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

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

“Shut the fuck up-“

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

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

“Yeah, it is. Do it, you pussy-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You love it.”

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

“Thank you for trying that for me-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You got me a flower?”

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

“Where-“

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

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

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

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

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

“You-“

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

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

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

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

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

“How fuck do you know that-“

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

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

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

“The plan-“

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

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

“Let our insider take of it.”

“And if someone recognizes us-“

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

“Do you-“

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

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

“It’s fucking blue-“

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

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

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

“Such a fucking gentleman.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What else are we even here for?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I don’t fucking trust it, Sunshine-

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

“Whenever you care to begin-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I, um, I don’t-“

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

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

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

“Why.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But-“ 

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

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

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

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

“Correct.”

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

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

Ben just grunted, and she took a long breath.

“We’re done here, then?”

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

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

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

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

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

You got a fucking house.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, dude! That’s not cool-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sage raised her hand, and the Deep fell silent.

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

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

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

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

Van-Pussy.

Who-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Like I said before, to talk-“ 

“About what.” 

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

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

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

Or kill them-

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

Ben scowled. Why.

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

They make single wrong fucking move-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why the fuck would we ever help you-“

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

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

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

“What’s the Cornucopia-“

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

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

They had a fucking advantage.

Sunshine-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why?” She snapped,  the look of pure fucking blood and exhausted wrath on her face one Ben knew to mean danger. “Everyone keeps expecting better of me, but they really fucking shouldn’t. I’m going to let Ben speak for me, because he loves me, and he knows me. We’ll pass on your offer, but thanks.”

Sage’s face was drawn in a tight frown and analytical glare, probably trying to figure out how to talk them over to her side—she wouldn’t fucking succeeded—but the Deep was gaping. Looking between Her and Ben with wide, confused eyes.

“You,” The Deep cleared his throat, voice uncertain. “You dudes are like, in love love? Not just fucking?”

Something sparked in Her eyes, and she leaned forward slightly as she answered. “Yep. Love love. But we do also fuck. A lot.”

The Deep swallow. “Oh.”

“Real nasty sex as well.” She shrugged, a smirk playing over her pretty lips. “He’s good with his hands, and his dick is huge. I mean, the sex would be good regardless, I love him more than life, but he has a massive dick. It helps.”

Ben frowned, glaring down at Her. What the fuck are you doing.

Trust me. We need to rile him up.

Why the hell-

Sage can’t stand stupidity. If we can get her to fight with the Deep, the dumbest person I know, then one of them might slip.

Ben looked back to the Deep, and if that was what they needed to do, it was working. The fish-pussy had turned red, and his eyes seemed like they were going to pop out of his goddamn head.

“Uh, congrats. Sage, we should like, tell Homelander that-“

“Do not tell Homelander anything, you fucking idiot.” Sage hissed. “And shut up-“

“But if they’re like, really serious-“ The Deep cut himself off, looking back to Her. “Is it serious-“

“Yes.” Ben’s words were short and firm, because he’d been five fucking seconds from proposing to Her before these two goddamn fuckheads had shown up. She looked up at him with a small smile and sharp amusement, bumping their shoulders.

It’s serious, Pretty Boy?

Shut the fuck up. Ben rolled his eyes at Her pretty, perfect, teasing face. I love you, or course it’s fucking serious.

She hummed, a little light blooming in Ben’s head, even as Sage and the Deep continued arguing. We are fuck-buddy-brain-connected. 

Brat- 

“If it’s serious,” the Deep was still fucking whining, and Sage looked two seconds from punching him. “Homie should know. He thinks she still loves him, but she’s clearly with Soldier Boy-“

She snorted. “Did you just fucking call Homelander Homie?”

“Yeah, I did.” The Deep’s chest puffed out, and he shot Her a glare. “He’s my bro, and I’m not going to let some hot piece of ass string him along when she’s in love with his dad-“ 

Ben moved to gun to the Deep, and the pussy’s words stuttered off. “Fucking watch it.” 

“Hey man,” the Deep raised his hands, palms up. “I was like, fucking around before, but her head can’t be that good. Homie deserves better, and you’re like, a man man. Don’t let some chick control you-“

“I don’t control him.” She snapped, and Sage fucking laughed. A dry, empty laugh that made Her swallow and Ben feel fucking sick as he re-aimed the gun at Sage’s head. 

“Doesn’t she?” Sage looked between them, voice dripping with a mocking, fake sweetness. “I remember Soldier Boy being an honorable, strong gentleman. But here you are, pointing a gun at a vulnerable woman when you’re at a clear advantage, letting to your girlfriend tell you what to do like a pathetic little dog.”

Ben didn’t fucking care about Sage’s mocking words. He was being honorable, because he was protecting Her. He was fucking helping her, and listening to Her because she fucking had this, and Ben trusted her. He wasn’t listening to a woman, he was listening to his woman. The most perfect one in history, who was half hanging off his arm with glazed eyes, her breathing mechanical as something loose and hollow writhed around in Ben’s—Her—gut.

And that was what Ben fucking cared about. How Sage’s words had made everything fucking horrid and vile because She was hurt by them, and nothing was fucking allowed to hurt her. Not when Ben could fucking do something about it.

“You are not a vulnerable woman,” Ben hissed at Sage, something like bile on his tongue. “You’re an evil, conniving bitch.”

Sage didn’t even goddamn waver, continuing as if Ben hadn’t even fucking spoken. “It’s not healthy, your little arrangement. Love or not, you’re going to be lost and alone when she eventually leaves you.” Sage’s jeering, skin-crawling smile was covering her whole fucking face. “And she will leave you, Soldier Boy. She’ll realizes that you’re not a white knight, come to save her and the world from Homelander, and she’ll leave you.”

“Watch your fucking mouth-“

“You’re not an angel. You’re not good enough to heal what Homelander did to her, and she’ll realize that soon.” Ben’s vision was lined with red, his body goddamn frozen as drums sounded far, far in the distance, and Sage kept fucking talking. “That Homelander gets all his anger from somewhere. That you’re no better than he is, because when she tries to leave you, you won’t let her go. You’ll grovel like a child, and when she says no, you’ll force her to stay. Lock her up and keep her just for yourself-“

She was moving before Ben even fucking registered that She’d let go of his arm. Her smoking, flame-wrapped fist flew through the air and collided with Sage’s face, and a hiss echoed through the air as Sage let out a shriek of pain. Ben saw a flash of something metallic—the Deep shouting and flying at Her with a raised fist—and shot. The fish-fuck landed in the dirt at Sage’s side, the bullet wound on his shoulder more than fucking effective as he whimpered in pain. It wasn’t enough to kill the pussy—She hadn’t killed Sage, so Ben had followed suit—but enough to bleed out if no aid arrived.

“You manipulative fucking cunt.” She was a step in front of Ben, glaring down and Sage and the Deep on the pavement. “Ben might not be a white knight, but he’s nothing like Homelander, and you fucking know it. He’s certainly a better fucking person than you are.”

Sage’s words were unsteady and strained, but still crude. Still fucking hateful. “If you really believe that, you’re not as smart as I gave you credit for-“ 

“And I don’t fucking care.” She hissed. “Next time you say anything like that to him, I’ll burn your fucking brain out of your skull.”

“We’re not done here-“ 

She huffed a dry, empty laugh. “Yeah. You are. Ben and I are going to leave, and you’re not going to follow us. And if you try to call Homie, then it will be over. I’ll kill everyone, and that will be it.” 

Sage scoffed Her name. “You can’t really think I’ll fall for such an obvious bluff-“

“I don’t need you to, because it’s not a bluff.” She leaned down slightly, holding Sage’s glare. “Homelander shows up, I kill him, and you, and the Deep. If that somehow kills me, then fine. At least it we’ll be done. Really fucking done. No games. Not interesting.”

Sage spat out blood, eyes narrowed on Her’s. “That’s cheating.”

“Maybe,” She shrugged, rising back up and looping her arm through Ben’s. “But I don’t care.”

Something was still fucking aching and toxic in Ben’s body and she pulled him back to the car. It hadn’t been a bluff. Ben knew how to read Her bluffs, and that hadn’t fucking been one. And She wouldn’t have killed Ben. He would’ve been left to wait in a scorched forest for the rest of goddamn time, waiting for Her to walk out of the smoke and smile at him again. She’d have burned out without him, and he’d never be able to fucking hold her again.

Sage doesn’t know what the Cornucopia is. She slid into the passenger’s seat, letting out a long breath. But she’s still looking for it, which isn’t good-

Ben grunted Her name between their heads, his grip on the wheel white-knuckled, bending the metal under his hands. You know I’d never fucking do that shit to you-

Of course I know that-

And I’ll never let Homelander hurt you again. Ben started the engine, holding Her attention with a glare. If he ever fucking comes for you, you’re not fighting him alone. You burn, I burn, Sunshine, that was the fucking deal. We’d kill Homelander and Sage and the Deep, together. Got it?

She gave Ben a soft smile, and nodded, her voice in his head low and gentle. I got it. Ready?

Ben grunted. Ready. You’re good.

I’m good. She sighed, leaning her head onto Ben’s shoulder as he began to drive. I’ve got you, Benjamin, my love. I’m good.

Even as they drove away from Sage and the Deep on the pavement, with a whole new fucking problem that was made of what the fuck do they do about the Cornucopia now on their hands, Ben grinned. That radiance covered his chest and gut and skin, and nothing really fucking mattered but Her, and finishing this. Finally being free of this dogshit circus, and being a little more worthy of Her hand in his, forever.

There wasn’t really that much shit left to do before they could be free, and together, forever.

—————————

It’s been a long, shit fucking day, and you’re only halfway done with it. Your blood is yours, and your skin barely has an itch beneath it, but you’re so fucking tired.

And you’re not sure if it’s that piece of your brain inside of him, or just how well Ben knows you, but the asshole has started to coddle you. His hand has returned to rest on your thigh—it’s there so often you’re starting to think his palm has developed some sort of magnet to your leg—and he’s very obviously doing everything he can to distract you from how this is your last shot. That this might end with blood in gutters and covering hands, but—if you do this right—it will all be done. This has to be done. There are too many other battles to fight for this truly critical one to not be wonsoon.

And Ben won’t let you think about that. He seems to have decided for himself that his job is to drive you around—because he’s a dick who has flat out refused to ever let you behind the wheel of a car on account of it being dangerous to everyone on the fucking road—and keep your brain everywhere but they imminent threat of Homelander. Sage. The CIA and Mallory, what will the after look like and who gets to have one, why would Edgar just give you a Nazi villa, and what the fuck does Sage want with it when she doesn’t even seem to know it’s a villa-

“You’re hungry.”

You look over to Ben, his eyes set on the road ahead of you. “What?”

“Your stomach,” he mutters. “It growled. You’re hungry.”

You are hungry. And it might just be Ben’s deep, firm, certain voice and how your body obeys it more than you, but it doesn’t really matter because suddenly you realize that you’re hungry.You’d eaten breakfast this morning, before you’d left for Edgar, and then the snacks Ben had bought you close to noon, but that’s it. It’s late afternoon, the sky turning red and gold on the horizon, and you’re really, really hungry.

“There’s a rest stop in a few miles-“

“No.” Ben snaps, glancing at you with a scowl. “Not a fucking chance.”

You sigh, because he’s right. You can’t risk being recognized again, and this wouldn’t be a sketchy, overgrown gas station. This was a rest stop on an interstate highway.

“So what should we do?” You watch Ben carefully, because you can feel his resolve ripping in half, and you think he’s fighting with himself about something.

“They still got McDonalds on highways?”

You smile, propping your chin on his shoulder. “Are we in America?”

Ben snorts, and the resolve settles back into itself. Firm and concrete and all around you like a hot, stone shield. “Brat.”

“Cunt. Are we getting McDonalds?”

He gives you a curt nod, eyes darting to meet yours and the glow inside him crossing over your ribs and blooming in your heart.

He’s so fucking handsome. The sunset is making him look golden—dark hair and defined features and eyes that follow you in the earth and fill you with life—and it’s not making it easy for to you remind yourself that he’s not an angel.

It helps to remember that angels aren’t real, and Ben is very real. He’s warm under your touch, and strong and careful in his natural hold on you. His thumb is rubbing circles on your skin, and his arm muscles keep flexing as he drives, and you want them around you, holding you to his chest as his cock hits that deepest spot inside you. You want to see his beautiful eyes watch you unravel under him, want to hear his low, teasing, affectionate voice make your stomach warm as he calls you good and beautiful and darling-

“Are you going to answer me, Sunshine, or just keep fucking drooling?”

You blink, and see his smirk, feel his whole body rushing with a cocky, bright pride. “I don’t-“

“You were staring, and it’s real fucking rude,” He drawls your name, squeezing his hand against you. “I’m not a piece of meat for you to objectifine.”

“Objectify.” You correct, even as your face grows warm. “And I don’t feel that bad about objectifying you, Pretty Boy. You’ve objectified me.”

“When the fuck-“

“What was the very first thing you noticed about me?”

Ben pauses, brows drawn, and you realize he’s actually thinking about it. You’d expected a small grunt of how the fuck am I supposed to remember that, Sunshine, it was over half a goddamn year ago, but his fist is clenched on the wheel, and he’s glowering at the road, so he’s really trying to give you an actual answer.

“Heartbeat.”

You tilt your head at him. “Heartbeat?”

“Your heartbeat was normal,” he grunts, his jaw set and words low. “When you woke me up. Mallory, Butcher, and Annie were all being anxious pussies, and Hughie was going to fucking piss himself, but you weren’t afraid. Of me.”

Ben glances at you as he finished, something so bloody and powerful inside of his body, and his gaze filled with it. A twisted and pious awe that’s all for you, that ignites your blood in a way that makes you feel seen. Seen and really fucking alive.

“I,” you swallow, fighting your urge to climb on top of Ben and kiss him all over his stupid, handsome face, if only because that’s not very safe driving. “Oh. I thought you’d say my tits.”

“I noticed your tits as well,” he shrugs, winking at you. “But that’s only because I’m not fucking dead, and you’re the most beautiful woman in history.”

You wrinkle your nose at him, and try to ignore how you need to touch him, or else you might explode into a mess of Ben. Loving you and always being so sweet at the worst, most inconvenient time. “Shut up-”

“No.” Suddenly, something is tight and sore over your lungs and around your throat—Ben’s lungs and throat—and when he speaks again, his voice is low and tense. “What did you notice about me.”

“Honesty, I don’t remember.” You sigh, a little guilt eating at your heart and gut when Ben’s frown deepens. “I was a little, um, out of it. I didn’t really think I’d like you all that much, let alone, uh, love you.”

You swallow, because even though Ben knows you love him now, this feels strange to say. Like you’re mostly rolling your eyes at your past self, who had truly believed she’d be able to wake up Soldier Boy, keep him in line with powers she could barely control, live with him in a mutual contempt, and leave him without a second thought at the end. She had been a real fucking idiot, because you’re never going to leave Ben. He’ll have to peel you off of him and snap your heart in two, and even then you might try to crawl after him and beg him to change his mind.

But that’s another reason why you love him. Ben wouldn’t ever hurt you, let alone like that. He’ll keep you against him and hold you carefully and reverently for the rest of time, and if you fell to your knees and begged him to stay with you, he’d pick you up, kiss you, and call you fucking stupid for thinking he’d ever leave you.

Right now, though, he’s just nodding with almost a pout on his face, and you can feel the soreness inside him grow.

“But,” you push forward, offering him a soft smile that you mean with all your heart, which belongs to Ben. “I think I know when I started loving you.”

Ben glances at you again, almost wearily. “You said that didn’t matter to you.”

“It doesn’t,” you shrug. “I feel like I’ve loved you forever, and that’s all I care about. But if you want to know-“

He gives a quick grunt of affirmation, the soreness pounding and clenching over him—growing slightly electric, almost wild—and you take a long breath.

“The club. That we went to with the team. I, um, I liked being near you, and I didn’t want to stop being near you.” The soreness starts to ease away, but Ben’s grip on the wheel is white-knuckled, and your body is still sore and tensed, so you continue. “Just the, um, just the thought of you calmed me down. And you looked really handsome, and I liked when you laughed and smiled at me, and holding your hand felt good. I didn’t ever want to stop holding your hand, and that was scary, but not because of you, because I’ve never been scared of you, just because I didn’t want to leave you, and I’d never felt that before, I didn’t think I’d ever feel it at all, after Homelander, and I think that’s why I didn’t immediately realize I loved you, because I’d never been in love like this before. I mean, it was really confusing, because my job was to make sure you didn’t go rogue, but I was mostly just thinking about you and boob-drugs-“

Ben cuts off your rambling with a scowl. “Why the fuck were you thinking about boob-drugs.”

“You liked her,” you mumble, burying your face in his arm. “And I didn’t want to care, but I did-“

“I didn’t like her.”

You shake your head against him. “You don’t have to lie, Ben-“ 

“I don’t fucking lie to you,” he snaps, and you chance at look up at him. Still golden in the light of the sunset, impossibly handsome with an almost confused scowl and deep words you can feel in your chest. “She was an annoying bitch, I didn’t give a fuck about her.”

“But you were, um,” you force the words out, chewing on your tongue. “You were hungry.”

“What-“ 

“For her. I could feel your hunger for her, and it’s your lust-“ 

“That was for you, smartass.”

The whole world because blurred and sharp all at once—like it does when you’re under Ben, with some part of him inside you and getting you high on just his touch and smell and feel—and you realize Ben is better than an angel, because he’s yours. This stubborn, grumpy, impossible man is all yours, and you can feel his love hot and focused in your chest.

“Oh.”

Ben snorts slightly, and you can feel an airy, smug disbelief in his head. “Have you seriously been thinking I was trying to fuck Boob-Drugs this whole time-“

“Fuck you-“

“I wanted to.” Ben grins, and the soreness is obliterated by a swelling, hot and bright feeling in his chest and spine. “I wanted to pick you up and fuck you on that table, Sunshine. You were the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, you are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, and I’m never going want to fuck anyone but you again.” He turns his head, eyes still on the road, and kisses your brow. “I told you my dick is yours, darling, and it has been for a damn long while. I love you, not some fucking coke whore in a club.”

A smile tugs at your lips, and you press your head back into his body, moving one hand to tangle in his. I love you too. And if it helps, my pussy is yours.

Ben chuckles, and it rolls through your body, leaving everything soft and calm in its wake. Good.

You nod, a little stupidly, and start to wonder if Ben asking you to marry him hadn’t just been a half-dream created by all your love for him that lived with your head. That it hadn’t just been a wishful haze born from the smell of pine and taste of salt, or the feel of warm safety around you and constant loop of Ben, Ben, Ben that was everything good. If the deep words you’d felt in your bones weren’t just created by your cock-drunk, Ben-drunk brain.

You don’t get to ask, though, because Ben’s pulling into the rest stop and demanding your order before repeating it in rough words to the drive-thru speaker. You put on your sunglasses, just for safety, and Ben leans his body forward to half-block any view of you from the cashier and serving windows.

From there, the rest of the drive is impossibly easy. Things with Ben are always easy, but you know that he’s working harder than usual to keep it that way. He lets you put on music to cover the rumble of the engine, and gives you pointed glares when your food starts to be forgotten in your hands. He’s indulging in your every rant about nothing, pulling you out of any spiraling thoughts of three hours to Boston, three hours until you’re either one step closer to killing Homelander or dead in the water with such skill that you’re starting to wonder if he’s studied for this. If Ben’s trained himself to keep your head clear, and your smile on your face instead of fading into the haunting thoughts of soon. Soon you may have to fight-

“Ryan told me you got him a bunch of fucking books.”

You nod, and your smile spreads a little wider, a little more naturally. “I did. He read all of Butcher’s.”

“Butcher reads?”

“Allegedly, yes.”

Ben snorts. “That pussy doesn’t have the damn patience-“

“Benjamin, my love, you don’t have the patience. You have the attention span of a toddler.”

“Shut the fuck up,” he grumbles, but every inch of annoyance on his face is fake, because you can feel all his affection and care in your body. Warm and innate and permanent. “I am not a toddler-“

“No,” you hum, giving him a sweet, teasing smile. “But you are a massive fucking man baby. My massive fucking man baby, who I love very much and takes very good care of me.”

He rolls his eyes, and the glow moves up his spine. “Brat.”

“Cunt. Do you think Ryan’s okay?”

Ben’s frown deepens. “Of course he’s okay, he’s got us. The kid has finally started to fly and laser at the same time, and you’re real fucking kind to him when he gets all sad about his pussy-fuck father-“ 

“I mean with everyone away.” You cut Ben off with a sigh, even as his words make the world around you soft and vivid and lined with a light you never want to lose. “This is all hands, and he’s all by himself-“

“He’s strong.” Ben squeezes his hand in yours, voice firm and everything in him made of an unwavering, concrete care. “He’s a smart kid, who’s gotten through a fuck ton more than one day alone. We’ll be home soon, and you can fuss all over him-“

“I do not fuss-“

Ben chuckles, shaking his head as a flash of amusement runs between your bodies. “You fuss all the damn time. Christ, you fuss over me,” he grins down at you as he says your name, and it makes everything in you a little electric. “But you’re a fuck ton meaner about it.”

“Well Ryan’s nicer to me,” you stick your tongue out at him. “And you’re an asshole.”

“But you still fucking fuss.” Ben winks at you, pulling your hand up to kiss your knuckles. “Because you love me.”

“I do love you,” you mutter. ”But I don’t fuss. You fuss.”

“The fuck I do-“

“You always make me eat.” You lean forwards, kissing his jaw. “And you make sure Ryan’s doing well in school, And you never let us push ourselves, and you’re always making sure we’re okay, and you love us-“

“Whatever.” Ben grumbles, glaring at the lamp-lit road, and you giggle.

“Grumpy-“

“Shut the fuck up.” He rolls his eyes, frown twitching as you lean into his side. “You’re lucky I love you-“

“I know.” You turn your face to nuzzle into his shoulder, ensuring that every breath is Ben. Pine and salt and gunpowder and Ben. “I really am.”

The glow returns in a full, brutal force, and it’s like a sedative. The world starts to blur in a way that you don’t want to hide or run from, and Ben is muttering low words that you can’t hear but still feel in your body. Soothing your head and easing you into a molten warmth that’s just too good to fight. Your eyes start to droop, and just before everything turns into a dark, simple daze of sleep, you feel a big, rough, warm hand brush hair from your face, and rumble of words that you don’t fully understand but, still make you know that everything is right here. That voice is Ben’s—everything around you is Ben—and he loves you, and nothing bad can really happen as long as that’s true.

And it will always be true, and that knowledge pulls you all the way under, into dreams of sunlight and green and something perfect that’s just out of reach, but still yours. Still everything, and made of love so strong you feel it a little beyond your body.

It’s all you feel until a finger you recognize as everything good brushes over your lip, and you drag your eyes open to find Ben watching you. His gaze is attentive and devout, and when you smile at him everything becomes ardor and a zealous wrath of love in your chest. Feral and watchful and protective, in a perfect time with the song in your head of Ben. The night is dark, but you can still see light everywhere because Ben.

You know you’ve arrived—there are horns blaring in the distance, and you can smell the pungent, briny ocean of the Boston docks—but you’re still breathing without thought because Ben is here, and you can fucking do this.

You’re okay.

I’m okay. You take a heavy breath, grounding yourself in Ben’s solid, strong body against yours—fingers holding your chin with a firm, gentle touch, an arm wrapped over your shoulders with a hand rubbing patterns in your skin—and his determined, concrete feeling of care. Are we ready?

Whenever you are.

You nod, peeling yourself away from where you’d slump and molded into Ben’s hold, but lean back to give him one, soft kiss on the cheek. I love you.

I love you too, he mutters in your head, tangling at hand in your hair and gently moving your mouth to his. We’ve fucking got this.

You hum into Ben’s kiss, holding his face between your hand, keeping his brow against yours when you separate for breath. We’ve got this. 

Ben had parked right next to the limo, so you shed your jacket and sunglasses before climbing out, replacing them with a black hoodie that will hopefully lend you some stealth, and follow Ben out of the car.

When you knock of the driver’s window, it rolls down to reveal a scowling Butcher, his arm hanging out the window as he looks over you and Ben with contempt.

“It’s nine fucking thirty.”

“Congratulation on being able to read a clock, asscuck-“

“We said eight forty-five.” Butcher cut off Ben with a snapping hiss “You horny fuckin twats are late. Again.”

“These roads are fucking dogshit.” Ben shrugs, holding Butcher’s glare with an indifference. “Let us in the damn limo so we can get this over with.”

Butcher lets out a huff of annoyance, stands out of the driver’s seat, opens the back doors, and lets you and Ben climb in before following and locking the door behind him.

“You’re late-“

“Someone wouldn’t let me drive,” you give MM an apologetic look as Ben pulls you half onto his lap. “We’d have been here two hours early if he did-“

“I don’t let you drive,” Ben drawls. “Because you’re a fucking criminal behind the wheel.”

“No, I’m not-“

“You are, Sunshine. Christ, Hughie and Kimiko have seen it,” Ben turns to them, brows raised. “She’s a fucking menace when she drives, isn’t she.”

Kimiko just signs I don’t care, it’s fun, but Hughie’s eyes widen, his facing turning red.

“I, um, I’ve only seen it once, and it was kind of an intense day-“ Hughie’s stutters are cut off by Annie, placing a hand on his shoulder and glaring at Ben.

“Don’t do that to him, Ben. He’ll have a panic attack about picking a side and we’ll have to wait until he calms down.”

Everyone freezes, and you know it’s not just you that heard it.

“Did you,” MM clears his throat, eyes narrowing at Annie with a frown. “You called him-“

“C’mon guys.” Annie gives a flat look around the dead quiet limo. “I mean, he’s clearly here for the long term, and it’s been getting weird to call him Soldier Boy when I talk to you,” Annie nods in your direction, saying your name with a bored tone. “About how much you love him and how good his dick is.”

Your whole face flushes as Butcher lets out a sputtering cough, Frenchie gives Ben a nod of respect, and MM’s gape almost unhinges his jaw.

Ben himself isn’t at all helpful, kissing the top of your head and wrapped in a smug, blazing feeling of energy that—when you lean back to glare at him—makes him look almost boyish. He’s looking down at you, nothing but want and love and adoration in his eyes, and you almost whimper at how effectively he’s pulling you apart under his gaze. He looks so happy—even with the mission only one strict reminder to remain on track away—and nobody’s but Ben has ever looked at you like that before. Like he’s proud just to be at your side, as if you’ve given him something just by loving him. You think you have, because his grin is so wide and handsome and cocky, and his words in you are so certain you can feel it settle in your veins and nerves.

Christ, you must really love me if you’ve got Annie calling me my damn name-

Fuck you, Benjamin-

You want to. You fucking love me. He squeezes his arms around you, eyes dancing with cocky, comfortable light. You really damn love me.

You know I love you, you asshole. Shut up. 

No. I’m allowed to brag about my woman loving me as much as I goddamn want-

MM let out a long, half-groaning sigh, shaking his head and rubbing his jaw. “You know what, we don’t got the time for this. Let’s do this shit, and then Soldier Boy can be Ben to you motherfuckers all he wants, as long as I never have to hear about his dick again. Hughie-“

“The warehouse should be clear, I didn’t see anyone on their cams.” Hughie glances at Annie, who’d dropped her hand from his shoulder to rest over his own. “Annie, can you-“

“I can fry them.” Annie frowns into the air. “But I don’t know if I’ll be able to only fry the cams, I might take out the lights too-“

“We got that fuckin covered, Starlight, don’t worry your blonde little head.“ Butcher nods to Frenchie, who pulls a bag out from under his seat.

“I have made them solar powered,” Frenchie pulls a flashlight, displaying it for the whole team to see. “And left them in the sun for several hours. Should we be plunged into the darkness,” he makes a dramatic gesture, grinning around the limo. “There will be light.”

Annie leans backward with a relieved expression, and you tap your fingers on Ben’s forearm as you speak.

“We all know what we’re looking for?”

MM nods. “If those papers were up to date, six to seven crates label RRD.”

“Red River Donations,” Butcher mutters. “Bloody cunts not even tryin to hide it.”

You swallow, pushing on. “And the plan? Everyone got that?”

“In and out, Madame.” Frenchie says your name with a solemn tone, chest puffed. “No messes, no trail, no fuckery.”

“No fuckery.” You nod, chewing on your cheek until you taste metal. “No evidence. Annie, if you can, try to fry out a few of the other warehouses, so it looks like a circuit blew. And no matter what, we’re just getting the V.” You give Butcher a firm glare. “Got it?”

“I’m all fuckin in, Love.” Butcher gives you a sarcastic—but not crude or mocking—grin. “Like Frenchie said, in and out, and all you cunts can be home to jerk each other off by midnight.”

You flip him off, and look back to the rest of the group. “MM, you’ve got-”

“Groupings, after we all get armed. Look alive motherfuckers, here we go.”

“Here we go.” You echo, looking around this limo with a tight, close-lipped smile that hurts your face. “Make it quick, stick together, and no fuckery.”

Everyone makes various sounds of agreement, shuffling out of the limo in silence. Ben keeps his arm around you as you separate from the group—weapons being passed out and Butcher lecturing Hughie about how to drive a limo, and to not throw a fuckin raver while we’re gone, Lad—so you lean into his body, forcing your breathing to stay in time with his.

I’m sticking with you, Ben grunts, popping Butcher’s trunk to grab his guns and shield. And if MM tries to pair me off with someone else- 

He won’t. You’re stuck with me, Pretty Boy. Get used to it. You watch Ben’s stoic expression carefully, reaching up a hand to trace over the deep lines on his face. When he looks down at you—all his concern and care like armor over your skin—something softens in his eyes.

Good. Ben leans down, kissing the space between your eyes. I like being stuck with you. Even when you’re a fucking brat.

I like being stuck with you too, cunt. You wrap your arms around torso, burying your head in his chest and just breathing in Ben. Pine and gunpowder and Ben. Strong and certain and yours, holding you until you rest your chin on his chest, studying his narrowed, concerned frown you can feel all over your skin and like lead in your heart. If there’s no V-

There will be. His voice is almost stern grunt in your head, and his brow drops to yours. We’ve fucking got this.

You nod, and stay here—with Ben—until it’s not an option anymore. Until holding his face between your hands and sharing his breath doesn’t fully stop your brain and heart from racing, but solidifies the instinct of Ben just a little bit more. It’s already carved into you, already permanent, but it keeps growing stronger. Keeps finding its way into deeper parts of you that might have just not existed before, but are now pulling open for Ben to have. And finding a new place for Ben to be a part of you—this one somewhere across your skin, bitten by the chill of ocean wind and beginning to come down, down, down into something green and warm—will have to be enough.

You and Ben return to the group—one of his arms over your shoulders, and the other holding his shield at his side—and you take in how everyone but seemingly you and Annie is armed. Even Hughie has a gun, even if he keeps glancing at it like it might try to run away from him. But you don’t think Annie knows how to shoot, and you don’t need a gun. The fire is all yours under your skin, and Ben’s at your side, so you’ll be fine. The night air is wired and suffocating, and every distant city noise sets off a cold flare in your body, but you’ll be fine.

“We’re splitting in half,” MM grunts. “Two supes per team, Hughie holding down the fort. I’ve got Annie, Kimiko, and Frenchie.” MM says your name with a short nod, and something lights up over your bones when you realize you’re in charge of group two. “Is taking Soldier Boy and Butcher. And if anyone tries to fight me on this shit, I’ll shoot them, so don’t fucking test me.”

Butcher glowers, slowly closing his mouth with an eye roll, and you look up at the blue-tinted sky, not a star in sight.

“Annie, can you-“

The words barely leave your mouth before the world starts to fry, crackling and sparking around you. For a second, everything is blinding light, scorching into your eyes and lingering for a painful second before you’re able to see the dark harbor and warehouse, visible in the distant lights of the city and sky.

You got lucky. Your eyes healed within half a second, but most everyone else is still rubbing and blinking, and Annie’s looking around the half-blinded group with a guilty expression.

“Oh, shit, I’m so sorry guys-“ 

“They’ll be fine,” Ben snaps, face slightly scrunched as his own eyes recover. “A little light isn’t going to goddamn kill the pussies, Annie, don’t fucking whine.”

Annie nods slowly with a little less shame in her eyes, Kimiko places a reassuring hand on her arm, and you bump Ben’s shoulder with yours.

That was very sweet of you, Benjamin, my love-

Shut the fuck up. Ben grumbles your name between your heads, raising you a little off the ground as he kisses the side of your head. Feeling guilty is only going to slow us down-

You twist your head, moving Ben’s mouth to yours for a simple, easy, gentle kiss. I know. But you still made her feel better. So thank you.

He just grunts—deepening the kiss until his tongue is tracing over your teeth and his hand his kneading at your skin—and you let out a soft, airy sigh. You can fucking do this, and then your whole life will get to be moments like this. Where Ben’s glaring at you, but you know he doesn’t mean it because you can feel him wrathful and fond and rough, rolling around in your chest and humming with an affection and love that’s more real and tangible than anything else in the world.

You can do this.

Kimiko and Ben open the doors of the warehouse—blackened and filled with cold, drafting winds—as Frenchie passes out the flashlights and Butcher stomps to your side, a scowl on his face you can feel searing into you.

“I got somethin you need to answer, Love.” He mutters, and you drag your gaze from Ben to meet his eyes.

“Butcher, we don’t have time-“

“Edgar.” He hisses, glare narrowed and firm. “You and the simpin cunt better have gotten some answers for me-“

You give Butcher an amused look. “Did you just say simping-“

“Love, I’ll call that puppy dog of yours whatever the bloody hell I want. Tell me what Edgar told you.”

Ben-

I know. I can hear. What the fuck is a simping-

I’ll tell you later. I’m going to tell Butcher about the Cornucopia, but not the extra V. I need you to back me up on what-

I always back you up, Sunshine, don’t be fucking stupid.

Your face flushes slightly as you return your attention to Butcher, and you have to fight the small smile tugging at your lips from how annoyed Ben sounded at the very idea that he’d ever stand against you.

“We’ve got to move,” you tell Butcher, flexing your fingers slightly. “I’ll tell you while we look.”

Butcher’s jaw twitches, but he nods. “Fine. Let’s get this shit over and fucked out.”

Ben returns to you—and now Butcher, both men glaring at each other like if they stop their dicks will fall off—and you look over to MM’s team with a tense, grim smile.

“If you find it first, get it back to Hughie and have Annie send out a signal. If we get it first, I’ll send the signal. Annie-“ 

“Long flash for regrouping, short for,” Annie swallows. “Emergencies.”

“Okay, good.” You look into the seemingly infinite darkness of the warehouse, chewing on your lower lip as you speak. “We’ll take left, you guys take right. No wandering, and don’t be stupid.”

MM nods. “Good luck, motherfuckers. See you on the other side.”

They go in first, Annie’s hand lit up and everyone else holding guns and flashlights. For a second the daunting, long shelves and halls of the warehouse are illuminated, and when they’re cast in shadows that fade back to pitch black once more, you light a small fire in your palm and take a long breath.

“Shelf by shelf.” You don’t bother to look at Ben or Butcher as you speak, because Ben always listens and Butcher’s a dick, but not an idiot. “Try and be subtle, and keep each other’s backs. Ready?”

You hear two low grunts, and roll your eyes.

“Can I get a verbal affirmation, testosterone representatives?”

“Stop wastin time, Love, and just bloody go-“

“Don’t fucking talk to her like that.” Ben sneers, and you turn to glare at them both.

“Rules.” You snap, eyes narrowing and the fire in your hand growing a little brighter, feeling a little more inlaid and pure in your body. “Benjamin, you’re the love of my life and I adore you, but if you spend the whole time pissing off Butcher you lose blowjob privileges for a month, and you’re sleeping on the couch tonight.”

“In the doghouse Gov, tough fuckin luck-“

“And you.” You turn your glare to Butcher, and he falls silent with eyes wider than you’ve seen them before. “If you antagonize him, I’ll kill you myself. Got it?”

You get a crude, huffed agreement from Butcher and take it, turning back to the warehouse.

“Let’s do this.”

For the first five rows, you search in silence. Ben and Butcher keep their guns raised—the former directly at your side and the latter a pace behind—and you realize that Butcher’s shock and compliance hadn’t just been from your words. Your fingertips are wrapped in a white flame that casts long shadows on the floors and walls when you move, and when you turn to look at Ben around the end of shelf four, he’s watching you with an awe.

Fucking Christ, Sunshine.

You frown at him. What?

Your eyes. They’re burning.

They don’t feel like they’re burning. Your vision is clear, and your fire is controlled like an extended muscle as the ghost-like flames light the warehouse, so you shake your head slightly. No, they’re not-

The fuck they’re not. “Butcher.” Ben grunts, his eyes still on yours, hitting something deep in your body and unraveling it with a care you feel along your spine. “What do her eyes look like.”

Butcher glances at you and scoffs. “The fuck am I supposed to say, fire? She got fire-eyes?”

Ben gives you a pointed, smug look, and you wrinkle your nose at him. “Shut up.”

“Looks hot.” Ben shrugs, winking at you. “I wouldn’t be mad if you broke that out later.” He pauses, then adds. “For sex.“

You snort. “Yeah, I got that part by myself, Pretty Boy-“

“Can you twats not eye-fuck each other right in front of me?” Butcher sneers, poking at a crate with his gun, glaring at it like the box is personally responsible for you and Ben. “I ain’t a prude, but it’s bloody disgusting, keep it in your fuckin brain connection shit-“

“The Ben’o’phone.” You nod, not bothering to fight your smile at Ben’s adorable, grumpy glare.

“We agreed not to fucking call it that-“

“I didn’t agree to anything, Benjamin, my love. And you haven’t pitched anything else-“

“I’m not pitching fucking shit, but I’ll eat Butcher’s ass before I call it that-“ 

“Come near my ass, Gov, and I’ll fuckin shoot you.” Butcher grunts, his glare turning back to you. “And you still need to get real bloody specific about Edgar-“

“The debt is cleared.” You cut Butcher off with short, well-chosen words. “Edgar is, hopefully, not our issue anymore.”

“And the Cornucopia-“

“He,” you sigh, bracing yourself for Butcher’s reaction. “He gave it to me.”

Butcher freezes, looking you up and down with a taut, deep glare. “The fuck are you talkin about. The bloody tits were the keys ever for-”

“A villa in Rome.” Your fingers start to tap on nothing, and you keep your voice neutral and even as you continue. “It was Fredrick Vought’s, then Edgar’s, and now, apparently, it’s mine.”

“In Rome.” Butcher repeats, shaking his head slightly. “Dr. Vought had a villa in Rome and Edgar is just handin it to you? Nah, Love, that ain’t trackin-“

“Well, it’s the truth.” You snap. “I don’t understand it either, but it’s all we’ve got to go on. Now can we please keep moving-“

Suddenly, Ben goes rigid. Standing slightly taller, looking around the shelves with an almost feral attention you can feel raging in your chest, wrapping over your lungs.

Ben-

You hear the click of Ben’s gun, and he takes one stride to stand in front of you, the barrel pointed in the direction of the warehouse entrance. Stay quiet.

Benjamin, what’s-

“The fuckin hell is wrong with you-“

Ben cuts Butcher off with a hiss. “Shut the fuck up, you pussy. We’re not alone.”

Your blood goes cold, a chill hitting your body that makes everything suddenly far too taut and electric around you. “Ben,” you whisper. “How many.”

“One.” He grunts, taking a half-step back so he can glance at you. His jaw is clenched, voice low. “Fast heart. Not Homelander.”

The world stops blurring, but you’re still on edge. Nobody should know you’re here, and if a single person catches you, this whole thing could blow. “Who-“

“William!” A cool, angry voice echoes through the warehouse. “I know you and the Boys are here. Are you a fucking idiot?”

All three of you become rooted in place as you recognize the owner of the shout, sharing wide-eyed expression of shock.

“What the fuck is Mallory doing here,” you whisper, words pushed through your teeth. “How did she even know-“

“This is remarkably risky and stupid, even for you dumbasses.” Mallory continues yelling, and you see Ben’s grip on the gun become white. “Stealing government property is a felony, and I can’t let you-“

Butcher hisses your name, nodding to your still burning fingers. “You have to turn the nightlight off, right fuckin now-“

You nod, squeezing your eyes shut and trying to pull the fire back under your skin, but it keeps itching and scraping its way back out as Mallory’s words ring through the warehouse.

“I know you’re here, and unless you want to fucking abandon Campbell for me to arrest-“

“Hughie!” That’s Annie’s voice, and it’s frantic, in a sizzling time with the wires above your head. “Mallory, this isn’t his fault-“

“I don’t care whose fault it is, I need you all to come out so we can talk like adults and not petulant children!”

You feel Ben’s body press slightly into yours, and open your eyes to see him watching you. They’re moving. What’s our play.

I don’t know. You shake your head, your nails digging into your skin as you try to pull the fire back down. Ben, how did she know we’re here. Who else-

Someone’s calling your name, and the fire flares up your arm. It’s a nervous, softer voice, and it’s Ryan’s.

Your name echoes around you once more, and then, “Ben? Butcher? Aunt Grace said you’re in trouble, I want to help-“

You start running to the entrance of the warehouse, the ringing in your ears only just quiet enough to still hear Ben and Butcher barely steps behind you.

“Ryan!” You’re half-screaming, not caring that Mallory can hear you. “Where are you?!”

Ben overtakes you in a second, his voice in your head urgent and low. Front entrance-

You don’t bother to listen to the rest, breaking into a full-on sprint until you can see the break of the skyline, dark over the ocean, and seven silhouettes in the door. You skid to a stop—Ben catching your arm to prevent a stumbling fall—and take in MM, Annie, Kimiko, and Frenchie in tight stances off to the side, Hughie with a sheepish, anxious expression trying to slowly inch closer to Annie, Ryan a pace outside the warehouse, and Mallory at his side, gun raised and aimed right at your head.

“Don’t move,” Mallory warns, the gun clicking. “I will shoot.”

You feel Ben’s hand tighten on your arm to an almost bruising grip, his own wrath moving the earth under your feet, but your fury is hotter and brighter, zealous and unforgiving as you narrow your eyes at Mallory.

“What the fuck did you do,” you hiss, flattening a palm on Ben’s chest in a silent signal not to move. “Did you bring Ryan-“

Mallory scoffs. “Of course I didn’t bring Ryan, he must have followed me-“

“I wanted to help,” Ryan whispers, his whole face pale, his body curling into itself slightly. “I’m getting stronger, I can help-“

“Ryan, this ain’t something for you to do.” Butcher grunts, taking one, slow step closer to the entrance. “And you, Grace, are you out of your bloody mind? Tellin the kid we’re in danger just to fuckin one-up us-“

“I am doing my job.” Mallory snaps, re-aiming the gun at Butcher. “You are disobeying direct orders from the president-“

“That order was wrong, Grace.” MM mutters. “And you know it-“

Mallory sighs. “This isn’t the time for that, Marvin. We can’t afford to lose sight of order right now, and you are still CIA employees-“

“We’re not.” Ben grunts, rising to his full height as he glowers at Mallory. “You don’t fucking pay us. We can do whatever to goddamn hell we to get the job done-“

“Soldier Boy,” Mallory warns. “I’d advise you remember the conditions of your deal-“

Ben snorts, raising his own gun. “Fuck your deal. Ryan, get inside.”

“Ryan, don’t move.” Mallory holds Ben’s glare, her gun moving to not him, but you. “You’re all going to come peacefully, or I’ll shoot-“

It’s your turn to laugh. A dry cackle that you hate the sound of, because it’s fueled by something hateful and cruel. “Go ahead. I’ll live and you have to know that he’ll,” you tilt your head to Ben. “Kill you. Immediately.”

“You’re not the type to make threats,” Mallory says your name, even as her gaze flits to Ben. “And you overestimate your importance to this operation-“

“Do I?” You shrug. “I don’t think I do. I think you’d be fucked without me. Without Ben. Ryan,” you look past Mallory, your heart straining and turning over at the pure fear on Ryan’s face. “Please come here, it’s not safe to stay outside right now, this is dangerous-“

“He’s a supe.” Mallory snaps, and Ryan starts to lean forward, like he wants to run but can’t. “He’ll be fine-“

“He shouldn’t have to be.” You stretch out a hand to Ryan, the fire starting to dim. “Ryan, I know you want to help, but this isn’t the place. We’re not in danger now, but we can’t risk lingering here. Please-“

Ryan takes a tentative step forward, and Mallory’s face twists into a sneer in your direction.

“You are not his guardian,” she says your name, taking a side-step to block Ryan’s path. “Neither you nor Solider Boy have any claim to him-“

“He’s my fucking grandson-“

Mallory cut’s Ben off with a scoff. “Who you tried to kill-“

“You ain’t better, Grace.” Butcher mutters, and you realize his own gun has risen back up, aimed right a Mallory’s chest. “You’d use the kid as a fuckin weapon against his psycho cunt father-“

“Homelander?” Ryan whispers, watching Mallory with a slack, almost tragic expression. “You want me to, to fight my dad-“

“You’re stronger,” Mallory snaps, her voice flat, words spoken as if they’re inherent. As if it’s obvious that Ryan must fight Homelander. “You’d kill him, and we wouldn’t have to waste time with the V-“

“But the V would work, right? Ben said it would work-“

“Soldier Boy,” Mallory shoots Ben a daggered glare. “Has lost sight of the mission. You are our best bet, Ryan, as the Anomaly has failed to stand against Homelander.”

Annie’s mouth falls open, and you feel relief flash through you as you realize Hughie has made it back to her side. “It’s not her fucking job to fight her rapist, Mallory-“

“If it isn’t,” Mallory’s gaze returns to you, and you feel something start to bubble over between your joint and in your muscles. “Then the responsibility falls to Ryan.”

“I, I don’t want to fight him.” Ryan stutters. “I’m sorry, I don’t, I know what he’s done, but I can’t-“

“You won’t.” Ben snaps, jerking his head in your direction. “Go to her, Ryan.” There’s a pause, long and heavy in your lungs, and then Ben grunts, “please,” and it dissipates as Ryan starts to move.

“Ryan-“

“I don’t want to fight, Aunt Grace,” Ryan mumbles, walking slowly past Mallory. “I just want to help, without anyone else getting, getting hurt because of me.“

Ryan reaches your side, and the flames waver almost instantly into smoke as he wraps a hand around your arm, clinging to you like he might drift away if he doesn’t. Almost on instinct you pull him a little closer, wrapping him in a hug as Ben shifts his body to fully block you and Ryan from Mallory’s gaze.

“Soldier Boy, watch yourself. I will not hesitate to return you to the box.”

Your hands tense slightly on Ryan’s head, and you try to keep your breathing steady for his sake as you hear Ben’s drums, watch the muscles of his back tense at the words.

“Walk away, Grace.” MM grunts, and from the corner of your eye you see his gun raise as well, and hear Mallory’s noise of disbelief. “We’re going to take the V, take Ryan, and leave. You’ll see us again when the dust settles, but I’d advise you take a leave of absence right fucking now.”

“Marvin, have you forgotten that this asshole killed your family-“

“No.” MM’s words are certain, resolved and flat. “I haven’t. But I’m practicing some motherfucking forgiveness, and no matter what I’m not letting you put the kid in the line of fire. Last warning. Leave.”

There’s sounds of shifting, and when you glance around you realize that everyone has raised their weapons. All aimed at Mallory, all paired with solemn, grave expressions as they move like a wall in front of you and Ryan. At Ben’s side.

And—between the space of Ben and Butcher’s bodies—you see Mallory lower her gun with a thin lipped, cold glare. 

And you smell coconut.

And something is wrong.

Ben-

You hear him first. Behind you, with stiff steps and humming an off-key, patriotic tune. And when you whirl around—keeping Ryan steady against your body, his face hidden from full view—your veins bite with frost, and something broken wails and twists in your gut.

“Well, well, well.” Homelander’s smiling is wide, all white teeth, made of a rage that’s in every tense muscle on his face, and there’s a glint of something like poison in his eyes. “What a lovely coincidence to run into all you here!” His eyes scan over your group, and you don’t have to look back to know they’ve all frozen. You can feel Ben’s eyes looking between you and Homelander, hear the drums drawing closer as that part of him inside you begins to riot and bang on your ribcage.

Ben grunts your name in your head, and you realize you’ve started to lean back. Closer to him, further from Homelander. You need to get behind me right fucking now-

I can’t. Your breathing is forced, in and out of your body as you try to stifle the horrible, artificial, sickly smell of Homelander. Try to pretend he’s not close enough that you can see the slight wrinkles on his suit. If I move, he’ll move.

“It really is all of you, isn’t it?” Homelander sounds delighted, and you feel sick. Cold and vile, suffocating and unable to draw in any new air. “The whole gang is here! Oh, this is too good, we can be done in ten minutes tops!“

“How the fuck did you get here, Homelander.” Annie hisses. “How did you find us-“

“I followed Ryan, of course.” Homelander’s turns back to you, his smile growing manic, and you hold Ryan a little closer. “Good flying, son, but let’s work on getting a little higher up in the air next time, huh? Don’t want satellites to track you again.”

He laughs—continuing to taunt Annie with words you don’t hear—and Ryan looks up at you with a panic in his eyes you feel scratching at your skin and heart, making everything too sharp and bright, filling the world with a terror that lives in Ryan’s chest.

“I didn’t mean to,” Ryan whispers your name, and his voice pleading. “I didn’t mean to, I promise, I just wanted to help-“

“I know you did.” You run a hand over his brow, forcing your voice to be soothing as your eyes darting between every rise and fall of Homelander’s chest and Ryan’s pallid features. “It’s okay. I’m not mad.”

“I, I’m sorry-“

“I know.” You repeat, swallowing down a bile in your throat that’s made of either Ryan’s fear or yours. It’s hard to really tell the difference. “You’re going to be okay, Ryan, I promise.”

There is no guarantee you can keep that promise. But you will do everything in your fucking power to make sure Ryan gets out of this, and you know Ben—alive inside you, alert and wrathful behind you—will do the same.

Then Homelander says your name, you have to meet his eyes. You have to keep Ryan against you, and try not to just scream as blue, cold, hateful and evil eyes carve into your head, violating and invasive and wrong.

“Thank you, honey, for getting Ryan for me. Come here. Now.”

“I,” you take a long breath, and a shaking half step back. “No. You’re not touching him.”

“Fine, you can hold him.” Homelander rolls his eyes, extending a red-gloved hand. “I mean, I’m glad you’re finally getting into that mother bond shit, but he’s still my son. I’ll want him back eventually, and we’ll get you another one once this is all just a funny story to tell our it.”

“No.” Your voice is a little louder this time, and the cracks over your head and heart are starting to leak something like venom into your teeth, spitting with every word. “You’re not touching either of us. Ever.”

Homelander’s eyes narrow. “Are you still throwing this temper tantrum? I got it the first time,” he snaps your name, and you can feel Ben roar inside of you. “I’ll let you outside more, and you can do, let’s call it 50% less TV appearances. But I can’t kill these fucking idiots until you’re over here, and this is a family affair, so let’s get this over with and we’ll talk about it more at home-“

“They ain’t goin anywhere with you, cunt.” Butcher snaps, and you see his move forward in your periphery. “And you don’t got a family. You’re just a sorry, lonely fuckin murderer who don’t got no one.”

Homelander’s jaw twitches. “That’s cruel William. And wrong.I have my son, with your lovely wife, may she rest in peace, and my fiancée and I-“

“She is not your fucking fiancée,” Ben growls, and you can feel him move a little closer. “She’s not your anything.”

“What, do you think she’s yours, Soldier Boy?” Homelander sneers. “She’s using you to get back at me! She’s a lying, manipulative bitch-“

“Shut your pussy fucking mouth.” He’s another step closer, and you risk another inch back. “Don’t ever fucking speak about my wi-“

“Your what.” Homelander clicks his tongue, looking between you and Ben with disgust. “Your whore? Did she turn around spread her fucking legs for you, again? Are you so pathetic that you’d pick up your son’s scrappy seconds-“

“I am not yours.” You whisper, leaning back a little further, until you can feel the warmth from Ben’s body. Kindling something inside you that makes you raise your chin, holding Homelander’s glare. “And Ben isn’t pathetic. At the very least, he’s never had to make me do anything.”

Homelander’s eyes flash, his neck flexing spits his words through teeth. “This isn’t cute anymore,” he sneers your name, and you have to force a long breath so that smoke doesn’t curl from your hands. “We’re going home, and all will be forgiven. Fucking my father, being weak and letting these rats manipulate you, every childish stunt you’ve pulled to try and hurt me when I love you. It will all be behind us, if you come home now.”

“No-“

He shouts your name, and you flinch. “I have.” Homelander’s head jerks, and he lets out a long, harsh exhale. “I have done everything right for you. I have loved you, turned you into a god, ensured that our marriage will be fruitful by asking your mother for fucking permission to marry you! We could be fucking Olympians. I could be a king, and you could be my queen, and we could fill the fucking world with children like Ryan! Stronger! You could be Madonna, the world will remember and worship you for a million years-“

“They’ll remember me for this.” You whisper, making sure your grip on Ryan is firm, your body wrapped over his. When you run, you aren’t going to drop him. “For killing you.”

“Well,” Homelander’s mouth draws into a sour, scoffing line. “If that’s what this is about, here you go.”

Homelander’s eyes glow red, and you realize what’s going to happen a second before it does. Your mouth falls open—maybe to bargain, maybe to beg, maybe to scream—just as Homelander turns, and lasers right through the warehouse. Shelves crashing down, boxes breaking open, a fire setting off deep, deep in the falling building and starting to spread before Homelander’s even moved back to face you.

“There.” He spreads his arms wide, half-gesturing to the wreckage behind him. “No more V. No killing me. Now stop playing these childish, annoying fucking games and come here.”

You’re frozen. You can feel Ben rolling and bellowing inside you, just a slight falling movement away from you crashing into him, and when you chance a look at the rest of your team—their faces washed in the dancing shadows and lights of the fire—they’re like statues. Ryan is still clinging to you, his fear everywhere in your body, his breathing shallow and rushed, and you don’t know what to do. Everything is moving too slowly around you to process, and there’s only fire that’s not cleansing but bloody, air that’s choked in artificial coconut, and earth and pavement cracking under your feet as the warehouse start to fall.

Then you hear the soft click of a gun, and vaguely register Mallory, pushing forward to Homelander, emptying her rounds into his chest. Bullets that fall to the floor with a rattling sound of metal, off-beat with the drums drawing closer to Ben, off-key with the ringing in your ears, and Homelander’s eyes glow red once more.

You feel something that’s heated—but foul and sticky and foreign—on your skin, Homelander’s eyes return to blue once more, and everything speeds back up.

Everyone is shouting around you. Plans are being made to get out, to find a way to survive this, but you’re not listening. Ben is grabbing you from behind, turning to so his body blocks you from Homelander’s view, and grabbing your chin with his free hand.

Run. Get Ryan the fuck out and run.

Ben-

I’ll find you, I’ll always fucking find you. You feel something rotten and aching start to cover his heart, but it’s not as strong as his wrath. As the hot, resolved, concrete fury in Ben’s body, that’s wrapping around you and making the world sharp as he searches your face with an almost desperate gaze. I swear I’ll find you, Sunshine, but you need to fucking run-

You lean forward, this kiss is feral. Savage and hopeful and made of pure, raw love. He’s everything, and you’re making sure he feels it. I love you, Benjamin.

I love you too. Ben grunts your name, running his thumb over your cheekbone with a soft, reverent touch. Run.

You nod, and don’t spare more than a glance at the scene before you—Mallory’s body split open on the pavement, Ben, Annie, Kimiko, and Butcher fighting Homelander as Frenchie, MM, and Hughie mostly just dodge and try to land blows where they can—before you take Ryan and go.

You hear Homelander roar your name behind you, and you don’t look back. There are flashes of light and heat ripping through the sky, and bangs and clatters as the warehouse begins to fully cave in, but you just keep fucking moving.

It’s useless to go for the limo—you hear it implode only moments after you pass it—so you pull Ryan deeper into the harbor, past more and more warehouses, trying not to drag him but unable to afford a single broken pace. Hiding is your best bet. Ryan’s shaking in your arms, sobbing and half-falling as you pull him along. Everything in his is made of pure, crippling fear that takes every single fiber of your will to push through, and you’re not faring much better. When you crumble against the wall of a warehouse that hides you in shadows and the crashing sound of the ocean, it starts to catch up with you.

How everything is cold, and you can’t fucking breathe. Everything is crashing and shattering around you, and it’s constricting over your lungs, plunging you into a white-hot pain that would be numbing if it didn’t feel like something was bruising and beating and searing into your skin. It’s holding you awake by your throat, and it’s made of wrong. Ben is in danger, and the drums keep falling in and out of time, and everything is wrong. Everything is thrashing and pulling and brutal inside you, trying to pull you back to Ben, but you have to stay here.

You have to stay here. With Ryan. It’s awful and you hate it, but you can’t leave Ryan. Another blow leaves an aching, denting pain on your skin like a phantom is trying to beat you into the ground, but you have to stay here, with Ryan.

He gasps your name, and you try to curl over him a little more. You can’t flinch when something hits you in your gut, or shout in pain as a foreign burn scratches over your skin. You have to keep a quiet as you can, and stay with Ryan.

“I didn’t mean to,” his words are choked, and his hold on your body might crack your bones. “I, I didn’t want anyone to get hurt, I wanted to help-“

You let out a soft shush, running your hand through his hair and over his brow. “I know, I know.” You sigh, and gently pry Ryan off your body. He goes with ease, letting you move him back just enough to meet your eyes. “I know you didn’t, Ryan, I know. It’s okay.”

His eyes are glossy with tears, and you think that it might be blurring your own vision. That, or the devastating pain that crashes through your chest—like someone’s hit with you with a bomb—or the way you swear you can hear Ben’s roar of pain somewhere on the wind.

“I’m sorry-“ 

“I know.” You don’t bother to try and smile at him, but you let your gaze grow soft, forcing down a sick, rotting and mold-like feeling that’s spreading over your chest. “This isn’t your fault, Ryan. It’s not.”

“Ben-“

“He’s strong.” You whisper, and he is. Ben is still alight and bloody and unforgiving inside of you, and the drums haven’t faded. They’re pounding louder and louder in your ears—never quite close enough, but drawing closer—and Ben is strong. “And he won’t blame you either. He knows this isn’t your fault, he won’t even think to blame you.”

“My dad-“

“We won’t let him hurt you.” That’s a promise you won’t let yourself break, so you pull Ryan a little closer and let him bury his head in the top of your chest. “I promise, he won’t hurt you.” 

“Can you,” Ryan lets out a shaking breath, and his fear doesn’t fade, but becomes a little less like a disease. A little easier for you both to breathe through. “Can you keep talking? It’s, it’s really loud, I don’t like it.”

“Of course,” you push down another feeling of pain, pain inflicted on your skin by something evil and crushing against  your head like a boulder. “Is there anything-“

“How did you meet Ben?” Ryan leans back a little, watching you with nervous, almost child-like eyes. Like maybe this is just a horrible nightmare, and he’s seeking easy comfort so he can go back to sleep. “He’s told me, but he kind of swore a lot, and he, um, isn’t a great storyteller.”

“No, he’s not.” You huff a soft laugh, and even as something slices over your skin, there’s a warm feeling humming in your head that’s always made of love for Ben. “I mean, he can be, but he does swear a lot. He’s a very vulgar old asshole.” You let out an almost dreamy sigh, and something crashes into the side of your head as you whisper, “I love him so much.”

Ryan’s nod is small, and he’s still watching you with wide eyes. “Did you, was it love at first sight-“

“God, no.” You keep your fingers combing in even patterns through Ryan’s hair, and raise your voice just a little more when he flinches at another too-close bang. “I thought he was the worst. He was crass and rude and mean, and I’d only been told that he was an asshole. And he is an asshole. But he’s also caring and honorable and determined and protective and reliable and loyal and rational and good. And he loves us.” The smile that tugs on your face is real, and Ryan returns it tentatively. “He loves both of us. A lot.”

“What’s his favorite color?”

“Green,” you hum, your smile growing a little bit more. “And he hates blue. Thinks it’s a pussy color.”

Ryan nods. “That, um, I think I’ve heard him say that.”

“You probably-” you cut yourself off with a slight groan, something beginning to beat into your face. And then it’s gone, and you hear a shout of your name. It’s from a voice that makes cracks line your vision, and it’s far too close. “Ryan, fuck,” you start to pull yourself up, taking Ryan with you as your whole body becomes sore, stinging and throbbing with that strange pain. “We need to move-“

Something cracks on the ground, wind rushing past you, and you shove Ryan behind your body as the cold sets in. Reducing everything to Homelander. Nine paces away and looking at you with a callous, hateful face.

“It’s over,” he hisses your name, hands locked behind his back as he takes you and Ryan in. “Your precious Ben isn’t strong enough to kill me, nobody is strong enough to kill me, now stop being a fucking bitch and come home.”

“No.” You whisper, and it’s more of prayer. A plea for something to help you, because you’re too weak. Your fire has gone dormant, and your blood has begun to try and climb out of your body, but you can’t control anything enough to not hurt Ryan. “Please, Homelander, please just leave us alone-“

“You’re fucking mine, I made you both, and no amount of prancing around and showing off your little party trick is going to change that you belong to me. You will always fucking belong to me-“

He takes a step forward, and the air feels like lead. “Please, just, just leave Ryan-“

“Nope.” Another step, and a disapproving tsk. “You’re both coming home, and we’ll get through this as a family. Don’t you want a family,” he says your name, and you feel so small. You can’t draw yourself up, can barely look him in the fucking eyes because they haunt your worst nightmares with how they butcher and chop and destroy every part of you that’s yours. “I mean, fuck, you can’t think Soldier Boy would give you one? He doesn’t care, and he’ll probably just, you know,” Homelander slices his hand over his throat with a click of his tongue. “You when you try to leave him. He’s not patient like I am. Also, let’s face it, your options are limited. You’re a fucking bitch, you’re lucky you’re pretty enough for me to put up with all your fucking tricks and manipulation and how annoying you are-“

“I’m sorry, I’ll, I’ll try to be better, just please leave Ryan-“

Another step. You’re trying to think of a way out, but there isn’t one. You don’t want to go back, you can’t go back, you’ll fucking shatter if you go back, and Ben is roaring your name somewhere in the distance but Homelander’s too strong. He’s malignant and unkillable and there’s no way to kill him now. You know Ben is trying to get to you and Ryan—you can feel him getting closer, alive and nuclear in your body—but he won’t be fast enough. He’s closer—and you feel something tear open in the crook of your elbow—so you can try to delay Homelander until he gets here, but it’s a slim shot.

Then, just after another step, something kills you before Homelander’s even at an arms distance. The whole world turnsto agony. Pure fucking pain and horror and anguish and you’re dying. It’s shredding you apart, and your whole body is wrapped in an unending explosion of pain. Your lungs feel like iron and your bones are burning and your skin is being flayed and ripped open and death would be better than this. You’re screaming—you only know because you can hear shrieks of pain that sound like yours—and your vision is clouding with black spots as your head caves in on itself. Your blood is made of lightning, and every nerve is trying to fly off your body as this feeling pulls you apart, as your organs and muscles are thrown around inside your body, being pried open and filled with something atomic. And then they seal shut and you take a desperate, ragged breath as the world clears.

You’re leaning against the wall, half slumping onto Ryan, and the pain is still lingering in your body. But Homelander is four steps away, and starting to reach out, and you can hear something good bellowing your name.

You can’t move—everything moving too slow and too fast all at once—but you still see Ben running behind Homelander, to you. Closer, so fucking close, but Homelander turns and sees him and it’s not close enough.

You’ll have to protect Ryan. Homelander is turning back to you with a crude, violent smile, and you know you’ll have to protect Ryan. Take every bullet you can so Homelander doesn’t ever hurt Ryan. And you’ll hold on to Ben, and you’ll fight and scrape your way out, figure out a way to get both you and Ryan home.

Ben says your name again, and it’s the worst sound you’ve ever heard. It’s aching and tormented, like he, deep down, knows he won’t reach you on time. Your eyes lock onto his over Homelander’s shoulder, and try to smile at him. He’ll fight to get you. And you’ll always find your way back to him.

Homelander takes a lunging step, and you’re going to fucking survive this, and you’ll let the sound of Ben roaring your name haunt you in every dream until you get to hear him say it with a soft, easy devotion instead of a rabid, dreadful, wild desperation.

You keep your eyes on Ben’s as Homelander takes that last step, and then the world washes in gold. Everywhere around you, solid in a way that feels so familiar, and warm. Grounding you back in your head, clearing to world into something sharp and tangible and safe.

Homelander isn’t touching you. He’s punching against the layer of gold around you, and then flinching back with wide eyes and a strangled sound.

Then Ben comes up behind him, and smashes Homelander’s face right into the wall of light and energy around you before yanking him away, and tossing him halfway down the ally.

You press your hand against the gold, and realize it’s Ben. It’s so familiar because it’s simply just Ben. It’s humming at your touch—a little extra light growing where you’ve placed your hand—and you meet Ben’s firm, tense gaze with wide eyes.

Benjamin. What did you do.

Took the V. He glances down to where Homelander is groaning, starting to rise back up. Don’t let Ryan touch it, it feels like the nuke or some shit.

Are you fucking insane-

No, Ben looks back to you, and you feel him roll in your chest. It worked, and you’re safe. I’m fine-

You could’ve died, you dumbass-

But I fucking didn’t. Homelander’s on his feet against, and Ben’s body braces, his fist clenching at his side. Stay here.

You glance back to the wall—molding into and around your touch—and realize that if you pushed it a little more it might simply let you past. As if it counts you as a part of itself the same way your empathy counts Ben as a part of you.

“What, what’s going on-“

You wrap your arm back around Ryan, trying to shield his view as Ben deals the first punch and Homelander goes flying into a wired, barbed fence. “They’re fighting,” you whisper, unable to tear your eyes away as Homelander staggers back up, lasers Ben right in the chest, and a searing pain pulses in the exact same spot on your body. “Ben took some V. Don’t,” your gaze flies back to Ryan, and you catch his hand as it raises to the gold around you. “Don’t touch it. It could be dangerous.“

“But you touched it-“

“That’s,” you sigh, your body jerking as Homelander lands a blow on Ben’s gut. “That’s different. Ben and I are, um, we’re connected. It can’t hurt me.”

Ryan’s eyes widen. “Butcher told me you put your brain in him, and you can read each other minds-“

“Yeah, I,” you take a heavy breath as Ben doges Homelander’s next punch, and lands five in return. “I did. Plant my brain in him. But it’s not mind-reading, it’s more like texting. I send him thoughts, he-“ you make a choked sound as Homelander’s hand wraps around Ben’s throat, and a frantic gasp as Ben kicks Homelander back, his whole body seeming to glow through the haze of gold. The drums are clearer, falling into time faster. “Fuck, Ryan, cover your eyes.”

“Why-“

“Please,” you squeeze your arm around him, letting your gaze flick back to search over Ryan’s open, frightened expression you fell across your skin. It’s not the paralyzing fear from before, it’s heavy. Uncertain and head-wrecking. “You don’t need to see this, I promise-“

He just nods and buries his head in your arm. You hold him there, forcing your breaths in and out as the drums get closer. So close, Ben’s staring to illuminate the whole fucking world, and Homelander’s just fumbling on the ground-

He’s not fumbling. He’s groping at his own suit, trying to grab something.

No.

You don’t know if it’s just in your head, or called out to Ben aloud, or traded between your minds, but Ben looks up. At you.

Homelander throws something at Ben, it breaks on his chest, and you feel his panic—feral and animalistic and raw, covering every single part of your body and trying to rip out of your chest—right before his eyes widen, and then close.

Ben falls to the ground, the golden barrier around you fading away, and he’s quiet inside you. Not gone, never gone, but darkened.

Asleep.

And you’re not afraid anymore.

You’re angry.

You’re screaming Ben’s name, Homelander is standing up—dusting himself off and turning back to you—and you’re furious.

The whole world is made of fire. Your whole body is racked with it, building and churning under your skin, sealing over cracks and making breathing so fucking easy. The air is filled with smoke, but breathing isn’t an act of labor at all.

It’s a way to focus.

Because you’re going to kill Homelander.

He doesn’t see it coming. He’s an overconfident, narcissistic, monstrous pussy, so he doesn’t recognize that he did break you. A vital, impossibly powerful piece of you just snapped in your body when Ben crumbled on the ground, and your own voice sounds far away when you tell Ryan to run. To find Butcher, and go. 

And then you’re moving. Half-flying to Homelander, and savoring the parasitic, hostile fear that rushes through you when your flaming fist collides with his face.

You’re in complete fucking control. Homelander stumbles back, and you don’t even fucking flinch. Your whole body is burning, your clothes turning to scorched ash under the white-purple flame, and you’re standing tall. Looking down your chin at Homelander as he collects himself, looking at you with an almost confused expression. 

“What is this,“ he says your name, running his hand over where his skin has twisted and burned, and you don’t bother to hide your sneer as you answer.

“This is it, you cunt.” You hiss. “You’re never touching me, or anyone else I love again.”

“Oh, please, you do not love Soldier Boy-“

“You willing to bet on that?”

Homelander blinks, looking between your burning body and Ben’s sleeping one, and scoffs. “You can’t be fucking serious. You’d really leave me for him-“ 

“I’m not leaving you. I was never yours.” You take a step forward, the pavement cracking under your feet. “I do love him. I really, really love your father, because he’s a million fucking times the man you are. He’s never,” the fire building in your fists grows brighter. “Hurt me. He always fucking respects me. He loves me.” You slash an arm through the air, and the wave of fire that rolls from it sends Homelander scrambling back. “And after I kill you, I’m going to marry him. And then I’ll have his kids. And it won’t because I’m his fucking vessel, it will be because I want to. And they will never,” the air around you is waving and electric and Homelander’s eyes widen. “Even know your fucking name.”

It clicks. In Homelander’s horrid, amoral, evil mind, it finally clicks. His eyes narrow, beginning to glow red, and he’s finally fucking got that you hate him.

“Fine.” He spits your name, rising off the ground and sneering down at you. “Have it your way, you ungrateful bitch.”

You don’t care for banter, or taunting. You just want to finish this. So when he lasers through your chest you bite down on your tongue, but both heal over in a second—skin and muscle and organs reforming so fast you don’t even stutter a breath—and your face curls into a smirk. He can’t hurt you.

And then you’re moving.

Homelander is strong than you. Physically. In terms of brute force, Homelander has the upper hand.

But you’re burning the fucking world, and it’s singing for you. The fire inside you is a hurricane, it’s volcanic, it’s world ending and city leveling, and it’s all fucking yours. And it’s not razing the ground or ocean, because it’s all focused on Homelander. Your vision is lined with red, and you’re going to kill him.

You dodge almost every blow Homelander attempts to deal you, and your technique—thanks to Ben—is perfect. Every hit you land is measured and powerful, wrapped in fire that sizzles and twists and boils Homelander alive. He lasers through you twice more, and it’s just as ineffective as the first time. If anything you brush it off faster, because it kicks your adrenaline up and the pain barely jolt through you for more than a second.

You have the upper hand. Homelander’s falling back as your fire grows hotter, and he’s almost covering is hideous, still smoking scars. You explode in fire, hovering off the ground from the pure force, and it knocks him to the ground.

You yank his head up—golden hair singeing black under your fingers, skin bubbling and growing marred beneath your touch—and hold his slightly fogged gaze, letting every inch hatred and loathing and fucking wrath in your body push back on whatever fear or anger lives in him. Allow every bit of your blood into Homelander’s body like a poison, digging your nails into his skin.

You lower your face down to Homelander’s, and hope he feels your every word.

“I hate you.” You search every inch of his pathetic, weak fucking face, your words easy but still spoken through teeth. “I fucking despise you. You’re a monster, Homelander, and I am never going to do anything better in my life than making sure you never hurt anyone again.”

His eyes flash, glowing red and cutting through your body, but your grip only tightens. The smoke is choking his air-pipe, he’s burnt and mauled from your flame, and the roar that builds in his throat is primal.

Cold, leather hands grab your wrists, but his grip slightly slack as he gasps for breath, and he can’t push you away from him.

Homelander’s eyes on yours are frenzied, and suddenly he’s surging up. Not to his feet, but to you. His mouth moving to yours, and your hold on him loosens as you push away from him on an instinct of no. No, never again, cold and wrong and horrible and no.

There’s an echoing boom, and then he’s gone. Homelander blasts up into the air, and you’re left naked on the ground.

And Ben’s still asleep.

You sprint back to him–body still ablaze—falling to his side on the ground, grabbing his face in your hands. The weight and terror of what just happened is crashing into you, and Ben’s asleep. Homelander said Sage’s gas would last for three days, you can’t wait three fucking days, you need Ben now. You need to feel him in your chest, to tell him you love him and adore him, to hit him and shout at him about how fucking stupid it was to shoot up the V, how thankful you are he did because you’re still here, and everything is going to be okay because you’re still together.

His face is completely neutral. Not peaceful, but blank. And when you try to shout between your heads, for him to wake up, please wake up, Benjamin, I need you to wake up now, it’s like screaming into the sky.

You know you’re crying because of the sobs that shake your body, but the tears are evaporating into your flame. You’re weakly slapping Ben’s face, trying to get his eyes to just flutter, but it’s pointless.

Hitting him is pointless. You can try one more thing.

You drop your brow to his—you’d worry about his skin burning, but it might wake him up, and you aren’t actually seeing any blisters form where you touch him—and pray to a God you don’t believe in that it can be this easy. That, as you start to grow lightheaded and the world fades in and out, it’s because it’s working and not because you’re hyperventilating and screaming choked sounds of Ben’s name.

Then you feel strong, steady arms wrap around your body, and you collapse against him with strangled, pathetic noise.

He grunts your name in your head, and your fingers tangle in his hair. You’re okay.

I’m, you nod, even as you try and pull Ben closer, try to climb into his body so you can break in the safest place in the world. I’m okay.

Sunshine-

I’m okay, really, I’m just tired. I just, Ben pulls you fully onto his lap, and you wrap your legs over his torso with another sob. I love you, please don’t do that again-

Ben doesn’t push back about how it wasn’t at all in his control, or how you’ve pulled a lot of similar stunts that might have left him as broken as you feel. He just squeezes you, moving your head to rest in his neck, and presses a kiss to the top of your head.

I won’t. And I love you too.

You nod, and there’s more to deal with, but you can’t make yourself move. You have to find the team and regroup, to figure out what to do with Mallory’s body, and work out Ben’s exact new powers, but you’re so tired, and those will still be issues in ten minutes. You have one last gamble to take—Homelander won’t face you head on, and you can’t risk Ryan like that ever again—and Sage’s next move to worry about, but right now you’ll just stay here. Sobbing into Ben’s body, letting him hum an off-key tune that’s meant to be Rainbow Connection until you’re only letting out shaky breaths, only feeling his warmth. He smells like pine and salt and gunpowder and something potent that’s mostly just Ben, and it’s invading your sense and bringing you down.

There will be more to do.

But you’re just going to stay here, with Ben, for a while.

End Note: Babe wake up, new Soldier Boy powers just dropped.

Thank you for reading!! If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

If you want to be tagged, just ask!

Taglist

@lordofthunderthr @kritara @sukunassfinger, @justiceforquentin @acciditties

@c1gs-coffee @manicjk @artemys-ackles, @a-cup-of-nightshade, @bitchykittenconnoisseur

@fghj18 @n-o-p-e-never @deanspinsterwitchs-readinglist @marisha-3 @stvrniolo

@deansbbyx @s0urw00lf @ciuguapa @ilyaasansaif @whimsicalcherry

@sadpods @ahoytothestorm @silverwingxox @criminalyetminimal @solsborg

@generalmoonpolice @ifyouwerethemoon @leavli @imsiriuslyreal

[planetpedri]

this is gonna make me sob into my pillow but #2 angst thingy with pedri 😣😣😣😣😣😣😣😣

Peace — Pedri González.

Pairing: Pedri González x Fem!Reader

Summary: Breaking up after a a three year long relationship had hurt you tremendously, but when Pedri had texted you that he got injured and wanted you to come to the hospital… well you couldn’t say no.

Word count: 1.47k+

Disclaimer/s: Based off the prompt ‘Hold me, please?’ , angst to comfort / fluff.

A/N: hi im on an angst kick don’t expect much happiness coming out of bea’s blog.

You reread and reread Pedri’s text. Over and over and.. you get the gist. You couldn’t help the pity that built in your heart, but you also couldn’t help the anger that arose along with it.

It had only been a week, for God’s sake. You’d broken up a week ago and the wound was still fresh. Angry thoughts clouded your mind the whole drive to the hospital, all the way up the elevator, to the door, but the second it opened and your eyes landed on the man you had folded.

Every rage filled feeling disappeared, replaced by the overwhelming urge to comfort him. You hold back, cautiously poking your head through the door. “Uh, can I come in?”

At one side of the bed was Pedri’s mother, only furthering to the awkwardness of it all. Seeing your ex and his mother a week after you’d broken up was not something you imagined happening, yet, here you were.

María stood, her eyes darting between her son and the woman she’d grown to adore so dearly. She had to fight the smirk threatening her lips when she saw the tension in her son’s shoulders depleting.

“I’m going to the cafeteria to find your father.” She says, patting Pedri’s head, “it’s nice to see you again.” She offers you a kind smile before rushing out of the room.

“You too..” You begin, but she was already long gone. Left alone in the depressing hospital room, you find your gaze drifting to his leg. “Jesus..” You mumble.

Pedri doesn’t say anything, simply letting out a quiet hum of acknowledgment. He watches you carefully as you make your way to the side of his bed.

“I don’t.. I don’t really know what to, uhm—“ You were grasping at straws for something to say. Nothing came to mind, causing a flush to spread across your cheeks along with a nervous laugh.

The tan man couldn’t help the way his eyes softened and the small, barely noticeable smile of his lips. He’d missed you. Everything about you, he had missed. The breakup of course, was his fault. He been so stressed with football that he’d taken it out on you, saying things he didn’t mean but couldn’t take back.

“You don’t have to say anything.” He speaks, wearily. He wanted so badly for you to just look at him, he didn’t blame you for avoiding it, though.

“I feel like I probably should, I mean.. this is..” You were once again, at a loss for words. “I’m so sorry, this sucks.” Pathetic. That was pathetic.

Pedri was unfortunately, very injury prone. You’d been in this position many times, but this was different. You couldn’t rush to his side, you couldn’t shower him in apologetic kisses, you couldn’t do the things you used to. And those were the only ways you knew how to comfort him.

Your legs brushed against the hospital bedsheets, when you remember. “Oh! Shit, I almost forgot, I set them down outside the door because I wasn’t sure if they would be appropriate right now.. Wait, I’ll be right back.” And just like that, you were gone, leaving Pedri completely and utterly confused.

When you returned, you had a blanket and, what you’d called the ‘designated hospital hoodie’ in your hands. He recognized them instantly. Your favorite hoodie of his, and the blanket you’d used specifically on the nights he’d stay over and the two of you would fall asleep on the couch.

“I figured it would get cold in here, it always does.” You gingerly hand him the items, freezing when his fingers brushed against yours.

Pedri froze as well, his eyes snapping up to you. “Sorry, uhm, thank you. Seriously.”

“It’s no problem.” You cough, “so! How are you? How bad is it?”

Shaking his head with a tired sigh, Pedri winced as he scoots over on the bed, his jaw clenching as he does. “Joder. [fuck] ” He hisses in Spanish, taking a second to speak again, “you can.. sit down y’know?”

Hesitantly sitting onto the uncomfortable mattress, your eyebrows furrow, “you shouldn’t be moving so much.” You scold, easily slipping back into your old concerned girlfriend mode. “How many times do I have to remind you there are plenty of chairs I can sit on?”

“And how many times do I have to remind you, that I prefer you closer?” He rebutted, the both of you pausing when you realize you weren’t allowed to do this back and forth anything.

But, you shrug the feeling off. Despite how things had ended, you loved Pedri. You cared for him. He was hurting, and you were not about to make him hurt any more by opening up the wounds that were still fresh.

“Well, your comfort is a bit more important than your wants.” You crack a small grin, “how did surgery go?”

Pedri huffs through a painful exhale. “I don’t want to talk about medical shit anymore. I’ve had to deal with my families badgering all day…” He hesitates before continuing, “I know this is overstepping, but could you just.. lay down? You don’t have—“

“I’d lay down if you weren’t hogging all the pillows.” You tease, “move your big head.” Shifting around to a sitting position beside him, you wiggle around till the thin blankets were out from under you and on top of you.

He laughs, the sound sweet and welcoming to your ears. You turn your head to the side, meeting his eyes directly for the first time since you stepped into the room. “This is only mildly weird.”

“Yeah.” He agrees, taking the blanket you’d brought and spreading it out over the two of you. “Another boundary crossing question…?”

“I don’t see why not.” You swallow, not knowing what was about to come out of your ex’s mouth.

“Hold me?” He asks with the saddest eyes, “please?”

Listen, you were no fool. You knew your actions would have consequences. This simple act was going to either lead to your heart breaking even more, or potentially causing you to go against your morals and allow forgiveness.

You couldn’t get yourself to speak, instead, you lift your arm to wrap around the back of his neck and your hand came up to rest on his head. Pedri automatically relaxes against your shoulder, letting out a long breath of relief.

You stay like that for a while, your fingers threading through his soft hair while the other hand occupied on his cheek, it’s fingers rubbing smoothly back and forth along his cheekbone. It had always been the way you calmed him down when he was upset. The familiarity tugged at your heart strings and in that moment you didn’t care how badly this was going to hurt you, you only cared it would make him feel better.

Plus, he always told you how much peace he felt when he was in your arms, and thats all you wanted him to feel in the moment.

“Pedri?” You quietly beckon him to look at you, which he does. His eyes fluttered open and a small hum leaves his lips. “You know I can’t stay..”

He tries to hide his disappointment, but you knew him too well. “I understand. Sorry, I shouldn’t have even asked you to come, I know I hurt you.”

“Hurt is one way to put it.” You quirk an eyebrow, hiding the genuine words behind a teasing grin.

His eyes flicker around your face, noticing every crack in your expression. “I am sorry. I didn’t mean the things I said. I can do better, I will.”

“That’s not enough. The things you said.. Pedri, I can’t just forget them.” Exasperated and ready for the conversation to end, you tap his head. “Just lay back down.”

Pedri shakes his head, “no, we need to talk—I need to talk about this! I don’t want you to forget, just hold me accountable and give me another chance.” His tongue darts out, wetting his lips. “Please, cariño.”

That stupid, stupid, stupid pet name. The only one you ever really loved when it left his lips.

“Can we talk about this when you’re not suffering from an injury? Like, what, two months? When your head is clear, and i’ve had time to get over what you said.. you call me. Then, we can talk about it.” You push his head back onto your shoulder and rest yours against his hair.

“Okay. Two months?” Pedri’s hand that had wrapped around your waist, dips under your shirt, rubbing slow circles. “I can do that.”

Pressing a short kiss to his hair, you hum. “I’ll leave when your mom comes back. Don’t text me or contact me till those two months are up, got it?”

Pedri groaned, “nothing?”

“Nothing.”

“Fine.” He rolls his eyes.

likes , comments , and reblog’s are all appreciated. lmk if you’d like to be tagged in any pedri posts.

DTS , @halfwayhearted @sakashq @hrts4havertz @joaoflms @spidybaby @gadriezmannsgirl @unx100to !

[foreverisntenough]

‘Movie Night’

Summary: If only life was like the movies. For years, you’d flirted with the idea of something more with Trent, your brother’s best friend.  You'd always danced around the edges of something more with him, sharing flirty moments that felt like scenes straight from the cinema. You had been silently desperate for the main character of your life’s film to finally get the boy but you knew moments like that were saved for Hollywood. The lines were clear; you were always going to be his mate’s little sister. So what happens when you go off script? In a whirlwind of passion, secrets, and stolen moments, you're left wondering: will you and your brother's best friend get the happy ending you've been waiting for, or was it never meant to be more than a fantasy? 

Index:

Warnings: This series is 18+ MDNI [ smut, slight mention of dv, loss of a parent, drinking - not sure what else really… if i miss anything please lmk!

Note: Thank you for reading! Please be sure to like, comment, or message me what you think of the series!

Chapter 7 - Girl of The Season | ‘Movie Night'

word count - 11.3k

You went out to dinner with Jack, Noah, Trent, and a few more of their friends. At first you didn’t want to go but Trent texted you that he better see you tonight. It made you giddy when he followed up...

It was sweet, playful, and everything you’d wanted. The night had started with excitement, a thrill of anticipation as you’d read more of Trent’s message telling you he’d have a hard time keeping his hands off you. It all had you feeling like a schoolgirl. You’d gone out thinking it’d be fun—a way to let loose and enjoy the easy chemistry that had been brewing between you and Trent, even with everyone else around. You imagined the night like any other was lately, filled with laughter and stolen glances that no one else would notice. The evening buzzed with energy, drinks flowing and stories spinning across the table. The group banter was easy, familiar. But as you sat at the table, laughing along to their stories, everything changed in an instant. One boy looked at Trent and asked a question that’s intent was harmless but catastrophic to you. 

“Bro, so who's the girl of the season right now?” The question was referring to something you didn’t know about. It hung in the air, a casual laugh among them, but it made you freeze. You tried to keep your face neutral, not wanting to react to something you didn’t quite understand. Trent shifted in his seat, letting out a small laugh as he shrugged it off, but the other boys egged him on, teasing him as if they were letting you in on some kind of inside joke. Trent couldn’t do anything but let it play out. He felt helpless and stupid at the mercy of his own history. You knew Trent got with plenty of other girls before you but you had no idea it was so routine. That he’d apparently find a girl ahead of each football season began so he’d have someone locked in for when he was away and because he’d be too busy to go out and find someone- it was convenience not love. 

“Yeah, just share her now, mate. Or is she not locked in yet” Noah laughed. They kept laughing and adding to it, casually throwing around details as if this ritual was common knowledge, as if finding a girl for convenience was routine. It felt hollow, the notion that Trent had a pattern, that every season he had someone by his side just as a placeholder for when he was busy.

“Girl of the season huh?” You quipped with a raised brow. You felt sick but presented just teasing.  You tried to keep your tone light, even though your pulse was racing. You looked to Trent for clarity, a reassurance he didn’t immediately give. The boys kept talking. Even Jack joining asking if it was maybe going to be the girl he rejected i.e you. i.e the girl Trent had told them about after your incident at the club. Your heart sank, you wanted to cry but you bit back tears and spoke up once more. Inside you felt horrible. Were you merely his ‘girl or the season?’ “So… is there a contract?” you asked, sarcasm laced in your voice. “When’s the deadline day?” You quipped. But the weight of the situation bore down on you, leaving you feeling like you were nothing more than an option, something temporary. You were trying to join the banter just to survive, even though you were crumbling inside.

“Y/N it’s not that serious, the transfer window is always open” one boy laughed. All the boys laughed, not sensing the discomfort behind your smile. They couldn’t possibly know this information hurt you. They didn’t know everything that had happened behind closed doors.

“Yeah, it’s rolling. I was just curious because Trenty usually has his girl locked in by this point. Season’s started. You know a lucky lady to keep him… entertained,” Noah laughed, the others nodding in agreement. “She’s lucky… and convenient. He’s a busy man, after all.” He joked further. You felt the blood drain from your face, but you forced a smile. 

“Is it now? Wow… sounds really really good for you ” you sarcastically quipped. 

“Nah, lads relax… it’s not.” Trent tried to stop this. He could feel your tension even though it wasn’t showing on your composed face. Trent cut in, sensing the shift, his voice softening as he tried to redirect the conversation. His eyes flicked over you with a trace of panic and concern but most of all guilt. But the boys continued, chuckling about his past conquests, reeling off names as if recounting game stats. 

“Yeah remember the year you won the Champions league you were cooking with girls. Lol.  Michele, Keely, Taylor…” Noah added. It was a boys dinner and suddenly you realized that and they didn’t. Noah forgot about the obvious crush you had on Trent. Noah meant no harm but this was making you sick. The illusion of intimacy shattered in your mind, leaving raw insecurity and a sudden urge to escape. Trent sensed it, reaching for your hand under the table, a dangerous move but it was the only thing he could do, his touch gentle, but you pulled back, suddenly feeling exposed. Trying to keep your composure, you excused yourself and walked quickly to the bathroom. Your hands shook as you closed the door, the glossy, tiled walls offering little comfort. The hurt hit you all at once, and you sank onto the floor, your breath hitching as you tried to hold back tears, feeling crushed under the weight of it all. The thought that you’d been so easily slotted into a role in his life—temporary, interchangeable, convenient—cut deeper than you’d imagined. Had you let yourself believe you were different to him? That you mattered more?  In the solitude of the bathroom, the truth crashed over you in waves. It wasn’t just that he had been with other girls before—of course he had. But this casual talk, the way they all laughed as if his relationships were nothing more than placeholders, as if this ‘girl of the season’ title was just part of the cycle… it made you feel disposable. You wrapped your arms around yourself, hot tears blurring your vision. You felt naive, stupid even, for letting yourself fall for someone who’d apparently seen you as convenient. For thinking you were different. It felt foolish to imagine you could hold a place in his life that was anything more than temporary. In the cold, sterile quiet of the bathroom, you replayed every tender moment you’d shared with Trent, every laugh, every late-night conversation, every quiet touch that had felt so real. And now, it felt like it had all been a facade. How could you have been so naive?

After a few deep breaths, you pulled yourself together, standing up and dabbing at your eyes. You couldn’t hide out forever, no matter how much you wanted to. You checked your reflection, steeling yourself, and returned to the table, forcing a breezy smile as you slid back into your seat, a mask of indifference firmly in place. But as you settled in, Trent’s gaze caught yours, worry etched across his face. He’d seen the hurt lingering in your eyes, even as you tried to hide it. The question of whether he cared—whether he’d ever care as deeply as you did—hung between you, unspoken but heavy. And in that moment, you realized you didn’t want to be anyone’s ‘girl of the season.’ Not even his. Trent looked at you, his gaze intense, worry etched into his features. He didn’t know what to do, he couldn’t do anything and you loathed him for it. You averted your eyes, focusing instead on your drink, anything to avoid his gaze. Your heart was screaming that you weren’t. You’d wanted so badly for him to see you as more, for what you had together to mean something real. And now, you weren’t sure if it ever could. 

The night had unraveled faster than you could process, and the hurt simmered, sharp and bitter, as the dinner ended. You didn’t look at Trent once more the rest of the night, you completely ignored him. Trent’s presence had been an ache next to you that you ignored, refusing to look his way, refusing to acknowledge him as if somehow that might make the pain hurt less. You were barely holding it together when you all stood up to leave. The others filed out, laughing and talking, but you pulled Jack aside and asked if he could drive you to Layla’s instead. Jack chuckled, a teasing grin on his face. 

“Why did Trent even buy you that car if I’m always the one driving you around?” he teased, completely unaware of the turmoil swirling inside you. You forced a smile, ready to brush it off, but Trent stepped in, his voice firm.

“I’m heading that way, Y/N. Let me drop you at Lay’s,” he said. You snapped back a quick ‘No,’ trying to keep your tone dismissive, trying to make it sound like you just didn’t want to be a bother. But Jack insisted, scoffed teasingly,  rolling his eyes.

“Go with him, Y/N. I don’t want to drive across town,” he said, half-joking, his car keys dangling in his hand as he made a show of locking his car door to prevent you from climbing in. Frustration bubbled up, and you were close to tears, caught between trying to hold it together and wanting to break down. 

“Jack, please. Just drive me home then,” you whispered, your voice barely hiding the tremble. But after a bit more back and forth, with Jack being relentless and Trent silently waiting, the rest of the boys’ cars pulled out, Jack’s included, leaving you and Trent alone in the dark, quiet car park. The silence in the parking lot was thick, broken only by the distant sound of traffic and the soft hum of streetlights above. You stood there, feeling exposed, raw from the dinner that had stripped away your illusions. You wanted to hide, to be anywhere but here, but Trent’s gaze held you still. His eyes, so familiar and usually so gentle, were clouded with an intensity that made your chest ache.

“Come here,” he said quietly but sternly, his hand reaching out for you, his voice steady but soft. Trent was still, his face serious, any of the laughter from dinner completely gone.

“No,” you said sharply, pulling back. Your voice cracked, and you bit down hard on your lip to keep the tears at bay. “Just… don’t, Trent. Just leave me alone. I’m not going with you. I’ll call an uber.” You snipped. You wanted to shout, scream at him for everything you’d heard tonight and for the pain it had left you with, but you were too tired, too heartbroken to manage anything louder than a whisper. “Please leave me alone.” You whispered once more as the tears on your lash line finally tipped over.  You felt the tears streaming down now, the anger and hurt tumbling out as you cried, unable to contain it any longer. But he wasn’t giving up. 

“Y/N, look at me,” he said firmly, stepping closer, his voice firmer this time. “Do you know what year I won the Champions League?” His question made you flinch; the reminder of the stories his friends had told, of the girls they’d listed, was like salt in a wound. He was asking you to recall the very thing that hurt. He asked like the question mattered, like it would fix anything. You swallowed hard, struggling to keep your voice steady.

 “I don’t care, Trent,” you whimpered, wiping a hand across your tear-streaked face.You glared at him, your eyes blazing with hurt. And then a different emotion appeared in full force. “I don’t care, T. I don’t care about any of it,” you snapped, wiping angrily at the tears falling faster. But he wasn’t deterred. His jaw was set, his eyes locked on yours, determined to make you hear him.

“The year I won the Champions League,” he began slowly, voice low but steady, “was the year you had that serious boyfriend.” His words hung between you like a confession, and for a second, you forgot to breathe. For context, he wasn't referring to Josh. You remembered that year — the love you’d thought you had found with another boy, the trust that had shattered when you’d learned of his cheating. But why was Trent bringing it up now?  “I couldn’t stand it, Y/N,” he said, his voice softening, breaking just slightly. “I couldn’t stay home watching you be his. I needed… anything, anyone, to stop thinking about you with him. It hurt.” He explained but it wasn’t enough.

“Oh, am I supposed to feel bad for you, Trent? You needed a distraction while I was dating someone? He was cheating on me, okay?” The anger that had simmered in you suddenly flared up, burning bright.  “So poor you. I’m so sorry that you had to fill your fucking bed with so many girls. And mind you so many that you couldn’t even be asked to be there for me during one of the worst years of my life. Trent, he was cheating on me! And now… now I’m here again, wondering if I’m just another ‘distraction’ for you.” You choked, the tears coming faster now, the memories making the hurt sting even more. “He had other women, and you’re doing the same thing. I’m never enough, Trent! You all always need someone else. Something more than me” You yelled generalizing all men. You were lumping Trent with every other man.

“Baby… please.” He begged with a pet name that made you wince at the minute.  And while it wasn’t entirely correct what you were saying, there was truth in it. You took a step back, throwing your hands up, cutting him off. 

“No! This is exactly what it is, Trent. I am never enough. I give everything, and it’s never enough for you… for any of you!” The words came out in a yell, louder than you intended, and in that moment, you couldn’t stop the full on sobs, letting them spill over, hot and blinding as they streamed down your face.

“Y/N, it’s not like that,” he said gently, reaching out to you, but you stepped back, crossing your arms as if to shield yourself from the pain. He shook his head, his eyes pleading, as he stepped closer trying again.. 

“This isn’t right,” you said, voice hoarse from crying. Trent was silent, his face losing its color as he took in the weight of your words. “We need to stop. I can’t… I can’t do this to Jack. Lying to him when he’s given me everything, and I’m giving it all to you, and to you I’m just… nothing.” The words cracked, a final, painful admission, the weight of it all too heavy to bear. Trent’s face crumpled with remorse, his gaze full of guilt, and without a word, he stepped into you, and this time, when he reached for you, you didn’t resist. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you into him, and for a moment, you let yourself be held, resting your forehead against his chest as you breathed in his familiar scent amidst your tears. He was warm, solid, and despite everything, being in his arms felt safe. You fought him for a moment, weakly pushing against his chest, but he held on, his grip steady and strong, grounding you as you let the tears fall. Shame and guilt washed over him, silent and heavy, as he held you close, feeling the depth of what he’d let happen. And for a moment, the world fell away, the pain eased by the warmth of his arms, though neither of you could find words to fix it. 

“I know I don’t deserve you, but I promise… it’s not like that. It never has been with you. You’re not just another girl. I’ve waited so long, Y/N…”  He quietly whispered, voice thick with emotion as he gently stroked your back. “I should’ve done more to stop it, I just… I don’t know but I know I fucked up at dinner. I know I’m not doing enough but I also don’t know how to make this better, but I want to. I want this. I want you. And I swear, it’s not a game for me.” His fingers brushed through your hair, his voice a soothing murmur, and you let yourself lean into him, the weight of your pain easing slightly. But as he held you, another ache rose in your chest, heavier, more real. 

“It’s just… Jack is all I have, Trent,” you said, voice muffled against his chest. “You and Jack… you’re all I have left.” And the words tasted like truth, a bittersweet reminder of everything you’d lost, of the fragile balance you were trying so hard to keep. “I can’t do this.” You whimpered. “Not for something that isn’t even real to you.” You whispered. He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, a soft, tender gesture that made your heart clench. 

“I don’t want you to feel like…. like this isn’t real to me. If it’s even possible it’s so much more real than I ever thought possible and I’m sorry I’m shit at handling it.” His words hung in the cool night air, full of promise, and as he held you, the quiet between you was thick with things unsaid. You closed your eyes, letting yourself believe him for a moment, letting yourself hope that somehow, you wouldn’t have to choose, that somehow, you could keep them both. His arms were a steady warmth around you, and though the pain hadn’t faded completely, in this moment, it felt like maybe… just maybe… there was a way forward.

The car hummed softly beneath you as Trent pulled out of the parking space, his hand warm and steady around yours, grounding you in a way that was both comforting and bittersweet. The weight of the evening still sat heavily on your shoulders, the words exchanged at dinner echoing in your mind, each one pulling at the fragile threads of the trust you’d placed in him. But now, in this quiet moment, his hand was solid in yours, and that simple touch brought a calm you desperately needed. You shifted in your seat, leaning into him, feeling the warmth of his shoulder against your cheek as you closed your eyes, letting the silence settle between you. He brushed his thumb softly over your knuckles, a small but constant reassurance that he was here, that he was with you. The faint streetlights casted a gentle glow over the car’s interior, illuminating his face in the soft shadows, and you felt yourself easing just slightly, even as your heart continued to ache.

“Do you think…. Erm, T…Do you think I could just go to your house tonight?” you whispered, barely audible stumbling to get to the ask out. “I’m really sad, and I don’t want to sleep alone.” Your voice wavered, thick with tears, and you sniffled, trying to steady yourself. He looked at you, a gentle smile tugging at his lips as he took in the vulnerability you were offering, no walls, no defenses. It’s not that you didn’t want to see Layla. It was just that you knew if you told her what you heard tonight she’d have an opinion and it wasn’t that you didn’t value her thoughts, you just needed to get yours in order before you debriefed. Was Trent’s bed the best place to sort those? No, but you wanted his comfort, he’d always been your comfort. 

“Yeah, pretty girl,” he murmured, a tenderness in his eyes that was almost enough to make you believe everything could be okay. “You can come be with me tonight. You can sleep with me whenever you want, okay? My baby.” His words wrapped around you like a promise, one that felt as real as the warmth of his hand around yours, and you nodded, your head finding its way back to his shoulder. For a while, you just stayed like that, nestled into him as he drove, his thumb tracing soothing patterns over your hand resting on his thigh. The city lights blurred softly as he drove, casting gentle reflections against the car windows, and you let yourself sink into the quiet comfort of his presence, each moment a balm to the ache in your heart.

When you reached his house, he parked and didn’t let go of your hand as you both made your way inside, guiding you gently through the door, his touch never wavering. Once inside, he pulled you close, his arms wrapping around you, holding you like he never wanted to let go. You melted into him, resting your head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, and for the first time all night, you felt yourself relax, the weight of the world slipping just a little as he held you. 

He guided you to his bedroom and suddenly a big smile pulled on his face. Tiredly you asked him why he was smiling like that. You weren’t in the mood and really weren’t in the mood for any cheek. But that gorgeous cheeky smile all made sense once you were stood in Trent’s ensuite, holding a brand new pink Goyard wash bag in your hands. Despite everything weighing on your mind, you couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. You traced the soft pink leather with your fingers, glancing back at him with a puzzled smile as he came into the room, his own grin lighting up his face.

“T… what is this?” you asked, holding it up. He chuckled, stepping closer.

“It’s the same one I have, because, obviously, it’s the best one,” he explained, “mine’s white but I got it for you in pink so it’s like a Mr. and Mrs. thing, you know?” The sincerity in his voice melted something inside you. You turned and wrapped your arms around him, pulling him close, and he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, holding you like he never wanted to let go.

“Go on, open it though,” he urged gently, nodding toward the wash bag, his eyes bright with anticipation. You hadn’t even realized the weight of it, realizing that clearly there were things inside of it as well. You raised a brow, a little surprised—did he really go beyond the bag itself? Unzipping it, you peeked inside and felt an instant laugh bubbling up as you took in all the familiar beauty products you’d mentioned to him the other night, each one carefully packed. You looked up at him in disbelief, a smile stretching across your face as he rubbed the back of his neck with a sheepish grin. “I actually had to ask my mum to come with me,” he confessed, laughing as he watched your expression. “Didn’t want to look like a complete idiot in the beauty section.” You couldn’t help but giggle at the thought, picturing him awkwardly shuffling through the aisles, trying to get it all right. 

“You’re ridiculous,” you murmured, shaking your head with affection. Trent pulled you closer, his hand resting on the small of your back as he looked down at you, his voice softer now. 

“You’re my only girl, alright? You know you always have been. I’m sorry that I did things that made it seem like you weren’t. I’m sorry it took me so long to show you that…Only girl I’d ever pay that kind of money for ounces of cream for.” He laughed, clearly mocking the price tag on your La Mer moisturizer. “But for you… anything.” And with that, the tears you’d been trying so hard to hold back started spilling over. You wiped at them with the back of your hand, giggling through your sniffles, embarrassed but touched beyond words.

“Stop, baby!” he laughed, reaching up to gently swipe a tear off your cheek with his thumb. “Please no more tears. I hate when you cry so, so much,” he whispered, pulling you close again.

“Sorry,” you murmured, a soft giggle slipping out as you looked up at him. You stood on your tiptoes, pressing a tender kiss to his lips, feeling the warmth and safety of him radiate through you. Trent brushed his nose against yours, his hand cradling your cheek as he whispered, 

“I’ve got you, pretty girl. Always.” And for the first time in a while, you felt your heart settle, the ache easing just a little as you held onto him, feeling the promise of his words wrap around you.

You crawled into Trent’s bed, pulling back the covers, and let out a surprised laugh when you saw the smooth, cool silk pillowcases he’d swapped in just for you. Trent stood nearby, watching your reaction with a smirk, his hands on his hips.

“See?” he teased, puffing up a little as if he’d won a major victory. “Got the silk pillowcases and everything. I’m in, baby.” He cooed proudly. This act so clearly showed he was making an effort. You couldn’t help but feel your heart melt at the gesture, a warmth spreading across your chest. 

“You actually do the most,” you said, shaking your head, but the grin on your face gave you away. The fact that he’d followed through with something so small, something that made you feel comforted and at home, touched you deeply. He moved closer, and you reached out, looping your arms around his neck and pulling him into a hug. You buried your face in the crook of his neck, breathing in his familiar scent—a mix of his cologne and the lingering warmth of the day. He wrapped his strong arms around you, holding you like he never wanted to let go. You could feel the rise and fall of his chest, his heartbeat steady beneath your cheek.

“Thank you,” you whispered softly, your voice barely audible. You pulled back just enough to look into his eyes. “Thank you for liking me… for doing all of this.” His eyes softened, and he gazed at you with such tenderness that it made your throat tighten. 

“Always,” he murmured. He cupped your face in his hands, thumbs brushing over your cheekbones, then kissed your forehead. The touch was gentle, lingering, as if he wanted to press his feelings directly into your skin. You both climbed into bed, and as you got comfortable, you found yourself settling halfway on top of him, your back resting against his side, your legs tangled with his. His hand found its way to your collarbone, tracing light, lazy patterns that sent shivers down your spine. His touch was calming, grounding you in a way that made you feel safer than you had in a long time. In the dim light, with only the moon casting soft shadows across the room, you found the courage to ask something that had been weighing on your mind. 

“T... Do you think…” you started, your voice hesitant, “we’ll ever be able to really go out together? Like, just… be out in the open?” You asked. The vulnerability in your voice made Trent pause. He turned his head slightly to look at you, his expression earnest. A gentle smile pulled at his lips. 

“Yeah, course if you want that,” he said, his voice full of quiet conviction. His fingers paused in their gentle tracing, and he shifted slightly to look at you more directly. “I mean… things have been good between us I thought but I also didn’t know you wanted that. For us to like go on a date or anything. I wasn’t sure if you liked the secrecy. I don’t know what you thought.” He explained to you sheepishly. Clearly things worked well between you in the bedroom and while you had no problem discussing that, it was also so glaringly obvious there was more to this relationship than just the sex… you just hadn’t said it yet. You bit your lip, feeling both shy and exposed. 

“I do,” you admitted. “I mean, I know it’s complicated, but… I just want to be with you.” He smiled again, this time with a deeper, knowing affection. 

“I want that too. I really do,” he told you. “I just didn’t know how serious you wanted this to be. But if you want it… then I’m in. Silk pillow cases, dates, whatever you want.” His words made your heart flutter, and for a moment, the world felt a little brighter. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but this time they were happy ones. You didn’t say anything more, afraid that if you spoke, you might start crying for real. Instead, you leaned in and kissed his jaw, your lips lingering as you tried to show him everything you couldn’t put into words. That night, there was no urgency between you, no rush to tear each other’s clothes off or tumble into anything wild. Instead, there was a softness that blanketed the room, a shared vulnerability that felt like a bridge between your hearts. You both exchanged gentle, lingering kisses that were more about comfort and closeness than anything else, the tender brush of lips and shared warmth easing the hurt from earlier. As you settled into the soft sheets, the familiar comfort of his bed easing the ache in your chest. His hands gentle as they traced soothing patterns over your back. You curled into him, your legs tangling with his, seeking out every ounce of warmth and comfort he could offer. As you laid there, he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.  “I want you.”  He murmured softly. “And only you. Always have.” The sincerity in his voice made your heart squeeze, and you found yourself finally breathing a little easier. And as you drifted to sleep, his arms wrapped securely around you, you realized that maybe, just maybe, you could allow yourself to believe in him, in this, in a future where he was more than just a fleeting presence in your life. You squeezed his hand once more, a silent promise to yourself that tonight, at least, you could find peace in his arms. When you finally drifted off, you did so with your head on his chest, your arms wrapped tightly around his torso, your cheek pressed against the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. Your face was relaxed, your pouty bottom lip just barely brushing his skin. Trent lay there, his hand stroking your back in gentle circles, the other cradling the back of your head. He pressed soft kisses to your hairline, whispering to you even though you were already half-asleep. He stayed awake longer, watching the soft, peaceful expression on your face as you dreamed. Guilt twisted in his chest as he thought about how hurt you’d been earlier, how you’d tried to hide it but couldn’t quite keep the pain from seeping through. He wished he could take it all back, erase the moments that made you doubt him. The memory of your stricken face during dinner haunted him, and he knew he had to make it right. His mind began to work on a plan, a way to take you out on a real date, one that wouldn’t be about sneaking around or hiding. He wanted to show you off, to be open about how much you meant to him. He imagined a perfect night, one that would make you smile so brightly that he could forget the hurt he’d caused. As he held you, his chest tightening with how much he cared for you, he promised himself he’d make it happen. You were his only girl, always had been, and he was determined to show you that in every way possible. Even if he couldn’t fix the past, he’d make sure the future was full of moments where you never had to doubt what you meant to him.

After that dinner, things settled back into something you could only describe as uneasy but fine. You still were living this double life, lying to Jack. Keeping the extent of your new life beyond the first fuck from Layla. On the inside of houses, the confines of bedrooms, everything felt perfect; the chemistry with Trent was undeniable, and whenever you were together, it felt like the two of you were building something real. But the moment he left, that foundation started to shake. Alone, doubts crept in, the taunting whispers of insecurity that left you questioning every detail. The laughs and comments from the dinner echoing in your mind. Was this how he made every ‘girl of the season’ feel? Were they all secrets he kept? His history loomed over him. It made you wonder, was this just the same story with you? Only now, Jack's little sister had the lead role, the fact making you feel more self conscious of how he viewed you.  

Layla's constant questions, innocent but probing, made it worse. She didn't know the real extent of what was going on, only that something had happened. She knew you fucked but after that… you kept your lips sealed. Saying you weren't sure either, which was a half truth... you didn't but you also were omitting the fact that you were spending night's together. And while you wanted to confide in her, every part of you held back, afraid of exposing too much-afraid it would all unravel the moment it wasn't hidden. More people couldn’t know, it was too risky. The secrecy felt safe but also confining, and your chest ached every time you thought of it. The double life weighed on you more than you'd ever let on to Trent. And yet, when he messaged you during his away game, that familiar excitement flared up, and you felt that ache turn into something else, a want to remind him of you, make him feel how much chemistry you two had. For the moment you were hidden but after the dinner, after his promises you wanted to make sure he was certain. He texted asking to call you. You were nervous to agree but who wouldn’t want to facetime Trent Alexander-Arnold in bed. You weren’t sure how to act at first but then you decided– You wanted to make it clear you wanted him. You wanted to make him want you. Apprehensive but determined, you sifted through your wardrobe quickly, finding the boldest, most daring piece of sleepwear you owned. It was underwear disguised as something casual. You finally sat in front of the camera, as his call pinged through your phone. You answered, and immediately his jaw dropped. 

"Oh my fucking days," he murmured, his voice low, a mixture of shock and hunger flashing in his eyes. The look he gave you sent a thrill through your entire body.

"Hi," you cooed, feigning innocence as you adjusted your posture slightly, giving him an even better view. A small, mischievous smile tugged at your lips. You wanted this to be memorable. Trent leaned closer to the screen, shaking his head with disbelief and lust flaring behind his eyes.

"You look unreal. Fucking hell," he said, his gaze tracing every curve as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing. You felt a rush of power, the distance fading as he soaked up every detail of your look. But it wasn’t just the look, it was everything; the clearly recently lotioned skin, the faux innocence, the vibes were just everything Trent would want. 

"I just want to make sure you don’t think of me only as Jack's sister." You met his eyes, holding his gaze as you whispered. The words hung in the air, a truth you'd wanted to tell him for a while figuring now while you had his attention would work.

"Trust me, he's the last thing I'm thinking about right now," Trent chuckled, still in awe, his eyes glued to you.

"I hope you’re not thinking about other girls while you’re away," you murmured almost as a test but simultaneously a tease running a hand slowly along your raised collarbone over to your shoulder, playing with the delicate strap of your bra as his breath visibly caught.

"Trust me, they're the last thing I'm thinking about," he repeated, his tone shifting, voice raw. “I don’t know who you’re even talking about, baby.” You could see it in his eyes-there was no one else he wanted right now. And that single, unspoken promise was all you needed to feel. “I don’t want any of that. You know that.I want you. Don’t play me, baby.” He smirked, his voice dropping, filled with a frustrated need that made your pulse quicken.

“I’m not playing.” You stretched out languidly, letting your voice drop to a purr. “Just thought you might like a little reminder of what’s back at home for you.” You told him. 

“Trust me, I don’t need one.” His voice softened, a hint of a smile in it now. “You’re all I think about. So don’t tease me like this. Oh my days, Y/N…” His eyes lit even more as the bra top was practically falling off. 

“Yeah?” you asked, feigning a nonchalant surprise. You could almost feel the tension through the phone. As you toyed with Trent, pulling down the thin strap of your bra, his breath hitched. The teasing, the slow build—it was intoxicating, leaving him hanging on every move you made. He was completely fixated as you gradually peeled away each item of clothing, your body on full display, leaning back against your bed, meeting his gaze with a mischievous smile. His reaction was instant, a low groan escaping him.

"Oh my god," he breathed, raking a hand over his curls, unable to tear his eyes away. Just as you began to lower the phone whilst opening your legs. A shiver ran through you. Feeling bolder than ever with what you were about to do. 

"Hold on-my phone's about to d-” You glanced away from the camera, then, without warning, hung up, pretending the call had dropped. Your phone dead. The silence that followed was deafening on his end. For a moment, Trent just blinked, waiting for you to reappear, only to realize you weren't coming back. It dawned on him that you'd left him high and dry, and he almost laughed in disbelief but the strain in his jogger was excruciating. This wasn’t funny at all. Not to him. It wasn’t long before the messages began flooding your phone, his name lighting up your screen as he called again and again.

Trent was spinning out. He couldn’t believe that just happened. You settled back against the pillows, heart pounding as you watched the texts roll in. Your phone buzzed—one, two, three times in a row again and again. 

But then you turned it off though to play the part. Still, you laid there opting to grab your laptop  staring at his messages flood in with a smile. This felt good. It was so easy to believe him when you were together, to let yourself feel like the only girl on his mind. But alone, doubts crept in, filling the space he left behind. Still, you couldn’t deny the thrill of making him wait for once. He called but your phone was off or ‘dead’ in his mind. He prayed you’d fucking charge it now. He was desperate for you and only you. He was almost embarrassed he had called and texted so many times but he wanted you so badly but as time ticked on he knew this was not an accident, this was chess, Begrudgingly he took matters into his own hands literally.  Hours later, you finally responded to his barrage of messages, typing with a grin tugging at your lips. You had left him out to dry and you kind of loved the power switch.

You wrote, knowing very well he was the culprit who'd taken your charger in an effort to hide things from Jack the other day. Your message was cheeky and taunting, almost blaming him for why he didn't get to have the call continue. Really just hammering home that you knew what you were doing. You could practically feel his frustration through the screen as he replied, a flurry of texts that only made you smirk, still desperate for you. His handiwork would never match what you offered.. You had him exactly where you wanted him, and something told you he wouldn't let you get away with this so easily and you couldn't’ wait.

The anticipation had been building for a whole day after the call, ever since Trent's away game ended. You knew he'd be coming back to you straight away. You had teased him mercilessly during that facetime, flaunting your body and hinting at all the naughty things he could do to you when he returned. But then your phone died or you could also say well… you just hung up. His desperate pleas over texts only fueled your excitement, and you couldn't wait to have him back in your arms, and beneath you or under you. You didn’t care. Jack was out and you were in… and in and just in a tiny tank top and panties. As soon as Trent walked through the door, his eyes locked onto yours, burning with a mixture of desire and frustration. He strode purposefully towards your bedroom, just moving straight past you and straight to the point,  his broad shoulders exuding confidence and determination. You followed, unable to resist the pull of his magnetic presence. It was like he came in and didn’t need to say a thing because you knew he was frustrated. Not actually, just sexually and you liked it the build up. You had to fight back a giggle as you came into your room after him, plopping yourself on the bed. 

"Baby," he murmured, his voice low and gravelly as he stood in your room. You couldn’t read the inflection. It almost sounded like he was disappointed? Was he actually mad? Momentarily you were nervous but he looked so god damn sexy like this, hungry almost, you wanted to keep up your game just to see what would happen. You were lying on the bed, your hair cascading over the pillows, a seductive smile playing on your lips.

"Did you miss me?" you teased, propping yourself up on your elbows, your tits straining against the thin fabric of your tank top. Trent's eyes darkened at the sight, his gaze flicking between your face and your exposed cleavage. "I'm tired, I won’t lie" you continued, feigning innocence. "You must be too from the flight. Maybe we can just catch up on some sleep tonight.” You knew you were being a tease, and the thought of driving him wild excited you even more. 

Then there was a shift in the room. He came over to you, his hand picked up your chin, forcing you to look at him. 

“You’re not tired.” Trent growled, a low sound that sent shivers down your spine. He told you very matter of fact. "You've been so naughty, baby…teasing me like that," he said, his voice laced with a possessive edge. "You know how much I thought about you dressed like that in this bed alone in my hotel." A rush of heat flooded your cheeks as you realized the extent of your power over him. You'd left him with a constant ache, his cock throbbing and heavy with desire. But the shift in power was singly like a pendulum. Now back to you. 

"I know, baby," you cooed, reaching out to stroke his cheek. "But you like it when I'm a bad girl, don't you?" Trent's eyes blazed with passion as he grabbed your hand, pressing a heated kiss to your palm. 

"No, baby… I like when you’re a good girl f’me. And you've been a very bad girl, and I'm not having that," he whispered, his breath hot against your skin. "You’re gonna be a good girl now. Right now. And I’m gonna take what's mine.” He said ferociously but steadily calm as he climbed onto the bed, straddling your waist, his hard muscles pressing into your soft curves. You gasped as his weight settled on you, his erection straining against his trousers, pressing into your core through the thin fabric of your panties. His hands roamed over your body, squeezing and kneading your tits through your top, causing your nipples to pebble in response. "You like being my good girl though, don't you, baby?" he growled, his lips brushing against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. "You like it when I touch you, when I take what I want." You arched into his touch, your breath coming in short gasps. 

"Yeah huh, T," you whispered, your voice hoarse with desire. Your resolve crumbling, the game falling to pieces instantly.

“I know you do. And right now I want you.but you didn’t seem to want me…” he taunted, still teasing you. “ So beg.” He commanded.

 "I need you please. Please T… I’m sorry.” You whined. The tides turned so fast. The power dynamic has returned to where it was before. With a growl, he tore your top off, baring your tits to his hungry gaze. His mouth claimed one taut peak, sucking and nibbling, while his hand cupped the other, rolling and tugging gently. Your back arched off the bed further, offering yourself to him, your hands threading through his hair, urging him on.

"See? Such a good girl," he murmured between kisses, his hands now exploring your body, sliding down your stomach, tracing the waistband of your panties. "But….” He began and your heart skipped a beat. What did you get yourself into? “Can’t be acting like that. You've been so bad, baby. You’re not doing all that with me. I’m in charge, hmm?” He hummed. You whimpered as he hooked his fingers under the elastic, slowly sliding your panties down your thighs, exposing your glistening pussy to his hungry gaze. His eyes devoured you, taking in every detail of your swollen lips and the dampness between your thighs. "So wet for me. You like this, don’t you? Me in charge of you. In control." he growled, his voice thick with desire. You nodded. He was 1000% correct. You weren’t sure you’d ever been more turned on in your life. "You’re gonna take my cock now.” He shifted, positioning himself between your thighs, his cock straining against his trousers. With one swift motion, he ripped at the button and zipper, freeing his thick length. You moaned at the sight, your pussy clenching in anticipation.

"Please, baby. I want your cock. I’m so sorry," you begged, your voice breathless. "I need you inside me." He didn't make you wait long. You thought he’d draw out the teasing but neither of you could wait any longer. With one powerful thrust, he filled you, stretching and claiming you in one stroke. You cried out, your body welcoming him, your walls gripping and milking his length.the stretch was deliciously painful. You were so tight from minimal prep but god you were wet he just slid in.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he groaned, his eyes screwed shut as he began to move, his hips snapping forward, driving into you with fierce possessiveness. It was clear immediately this was going to be a rough fuck. "You're mine, baby. All mine." You wrapped your legs around his waist, meeting his thrusts with your own, your bodies moving in perfect rhythm. His hands gripped your hips, leaving marks on your skin as he pounded into you, his cock hitting your sweet spot with every stroke.

"You like it rough, don't you, baby?" he panted, his breath hot against your neck as he nibbled and sucked on the sensitive skin. "You want me to fuck you hard?" He asked with a smirk you could feel. “Gonna have you begging for more of me.” 

"Yes, please," you whimpered, your head thrown back, your body on fire. "I want it all. I want you to take me, own me." You’d never acted so submissive in your life. This was like an alternative universe only he could create. Trent obliged to your pleas eagerly, his movements becoming more primal, more demanding. Trent kept one hand on your hip guiding your movements but brought his other up your body, his hand wrapping around your neck, eyes pinned to yours. You gasped feeling his tip smashing against your cervix and orgasm barrelling towards you. But then he surprised you by letting go of your neck, slowing his pace ever so much so that the coil loosened in your stomach, the climax retreating momentarily. He was playing games with you. “You wanted to play with me, baby the other day? I’ll play with you.”  He taunted. He moved his hand off your neck and up to cup your cheek. Then swiftly he dragged his thumb across your lips. He slipped it into your mouth with ease as he pulled your mouth open by your bottom lip. He spit his saliva into your mouth and you swallowed diligently with a moan before he pushed his thumb all the way back in for you to suck on it like you would his cock. He groaned when your eyes began to flutter closed with a whine, simultaneously swirling your tongue around his finger. 

“Such a good girl f’me.” he gripped your chin looking longingly into your eyes. He loved everything about this. Being in control of you. You letting him control you. You wanting him to control you. He tucked his face in the nape of your neck. He nibbled on your sensitive skin. His hair tickling you. Hoarse grunts escaping him as you soaked him. He hit that spot deep inside you, only he knew.  All you could think about was the way he hit that spot again and again, continuously. He felt so good when he dropped his hand between you to rubbing your throbbing clit. He knew how to make you cum and he was going to do it well but he sure as hell wasn’t going to let you. So he pulled out and  flipped you onto your stomach, throwing you around like a rag doll, positioning you on all fours, your ass raised high in the air, your back arched to perfection, presenting yourself to him. With a possessive growl, he smacked your ass, leaving a stinging imprint of his hand. "Why’d you have to act like such a naughty fucking girl, baby?" he whispered, his hot breath caressing your sensitive skin. But instead of a whine, you moaned in pleasure. You liked when he slapped your ass. "You like it when I punish you, don't you?" He smirked, mildly surprised that you were this down for him to have this much control. Obviously you knew each other well but in the bedroom you were still finding things out. 

"Yes," you moaned, your voice hoarse as you pushed back against him, inviting more because you knew more were coming. Trent’s hand rained down on your ass, slap after slap, again and again, leaving a symphony of slaps and marks that would remind you of his dominance. Finally once he felt it was sufficient he let a line of his spit fall onto your ass. He watched it run  down over your ass and into the folds of your pussy. His hands caressed the fat of your ass. 

"You've been a bad girl, teasing me," he said, his voice thick with desire. "Just gotta fuck it out of you now, yeah? Make you my good girl again." He cooed as he positioned himself behind you and began to tease you, dragging his leaking tip across the smooth skin of your ass before slipping it between your folds teasing your entrance. He slowly pushed his cock into your pussy without another word. You were completely drenched. You could feel yourself coat his length in your slick again and again as he drilled in and out of you. The recoil of your ass from his hard thrusts had Trent in pure heaven. God, it must’ve been a good 30 minutes of him just blowing your back out. 

"Oh, fuck!" you exclaimed, your hands gripping the sheets as he pounded into you, his hips slapping against your ass, the sound of flesh meeting flesh filling the room. “I’m gonna c-.”  you cried out, your body trembling.

“No!” He commanded and you whined as he pulled out, halting it all. “You’re gonna keep taking my cock.” He told you as he slid back in and so you did. You kept taking him  “That's it, baby," he grunted, his hands gripping your hips, holding you in place as he fucked you with abandon. "Take it, take all of me." You cried out as he slammed into you, his cock hitting your G-spot with every stroke, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. Your orgasm building, coiling tight in your core, every inch of your body alive with sensation.“ You’re mine, baby. Understand?” He said it was a seriousness and a harshness that made goosebumps arise on your skin. 

"I can’t… oh my fucking god. I'm gonna cum, T," you panted, your nails digging into the sheets as you fought for release. "I’m gonna cum, fuck– please." You whined. You moaned as your vision began to blur a little from how good it all felt.

"Not yet, baby," he growled, his voice rough. "You’re gonna keep taking me because I said so. You asked for this. I want you to feel me, feel every inch of me." He reached around, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing and pinching the sensitive bud as he continued to pound into you. Your moans filled the room, a mixture of pleasure and desperation.

"Please, T, oh my god," you begged, your body on the brink. "I need to cum. Please."

"Not until I say so," he commanded, his voice harsh. "You don't get to come until I'm ready to fill you up with my cum." His words sent a shockwave of desire through you, and you surrendered to his control, your body his to command. “You continued throwing your ass back as he fucked you relentlessly, his cock driving into your pussy with brutal force, his fingers working your clit with expert precision. "That's it, baby, let me see how much you want it," he grunted, his breath hot against your neck. "You're mine, every inch of you. I own this pussy. I get to decide when you cum.” After a few more strokes, that were gradually getting rougher you heard it, the command you’d be aching for. “Cum f’me baby. Cum now.” His words pushed you over the edge, and you exploded around him, your pussy clenching and milking his cock as you cried out his name. “Fuck, baby. Gonna cum, alright? Doing so good, baby.” He grunted as his thrusts became messy and unregulated before he came inside of you, filling you up to the brim.  his cock twitching and pulsing as he filled you with his hot release. You collapsed onto the bed, your body spent and satisfied. He gently pulled out of you but was quick to push his two fingers along with his leaking cum back inside you for a few moments longer. "You wanna cum again f’me, pretty girl?" He cooed.

“Oh fuck- oh my god.” You whined, body gone almost limp but craving more insatiably. His fingers easily sliding in and out of your pussy, finding that magical spot deep inside. He rubbed and pressed your clit as his fingers curled deeper from behind. You cried out, your body exploding in another mind-blowing orgasm. Trent smugly and quietly laughed not at you but just happy you were feeling so good. As your bodies calmed, Trent's softer side emerged as he gently rolled you onto your back, his eyes filled with love and adoration before he collapsed onto the bed beside you, pulling you into his arms. He kissed you tenderly, his hands stroking your hair, his touch now gentle and caring. He held you close, his strong arms offering comfort and protection. You could feel his heart pounding against you, and his breath was warm on your skin.

"My good girl," he whispered, his voice hoarse with emotion. "Did so good f’me. You okay?”   You smiled, your heart full as you snuggled into his embrace, content in the afterglow of your passionate encounter. 

"I love being your good girl, T," you murmured, savoring the warmth of his body against yours. 

"You were more than that, baby. Honestly, that was fucking unreal," he whispered, his voice filled with awe. "I love making you feel good." You snuggled closer, your body still buzzing with pleasure. 

"That’s good because you make me feel amazing.” you tiredly giggled. “But…I do really like when you take control, baby," you confessed, your voice soft and sated. "It makes me feel so fucking… I don’t know wanted or something. I like knowing you want me like that.” You poorly explained in your post orgasmic haze. He chuckled, the sound low and warm. 

"I do want you, more than you know. And I promise, I'll always take care of you…. Especially after wanting you like that." He smirked. He gently caressed your hair, his touch tender and loving. "Let's clean you up, my pretty girl," he said, his voice filled with affection. He helped you into the shower, the warm water washing away the remnants of your passionate encounter. Trent's hands were gentle as he soaped your body, his touch sending shivers of pleasure through your tired limbs. You leaned into him, your body still limp from the intensity of your orgasms, but he held you close, his strong arms offering relentless support. There was a physical and emotional feeling of warmth with him. He just wanted to wrap around you and keep you with him all the time. He was completely consumed by the thought. Seeing you so fragile after sex just sent a feeling alight inside he didn’t quite no how to label. 

"You're so good to me, T," you whispered, your voice filled with gratitude. He’d always taken care of you but now it was different… so different, so intimate and you both were recognizing it. He kissed the top of your head, his lips soft against your hair. 

"I will always take care of you, baby. I always have, I always will." He cooed as the water washed away the sweat and passion of your lovemaking, Trent's gentle care and adoration filled the void, leaving you feeling cherished and adored. You knew in that moment that this was more than just physical attraction. It was a deep, profound connection, but one you craved beyond the boundaries of the bedroom. 

That next morning was a slow, honeyed glow, filtering through the curtains and casting a soft light over the room. The world felt paused, as if the universe had frozen to let you both linger in this quiet perfection a little longer. The warmth of Trent’s skin was the only anchor you needed, the steady beat of his heart a lullaby against your cheek as you lay entwined, tangled together under the weight of the blankets and something far deeper. He shifted slightly, his body moving with that half-conscious care to keep you close, and you felt his breath stir your hair, a sigh caught somewhere between sleep and waking. As he moved, you instinctively tightened your hold, pressing yourself closer, unwilling to let him slip even an inch away. 

“MmNmm,” you murmured, a soft, sleepy protest as you shook your head against his chest, feeling the rumble of his chuckle in response.

“Nah, course not,” he laughed at you, his voice still heavy with sleep, But he was only teasing, he was loving that you didn’t want him to move. He lent down, pressing his lips to the top of your head in a lingering kiss, his breath warm against your hair. His hand drifted down your back, tracing gentle patterns, like he was memorizing every inch of you. “My pretty girl,” he murmured, his voice a tender whisper, more to himself than to you, like he still couldn’t believe this was real. The sound of his words washed over you, filling you with a warmth that went beyond the touch of his skin. You looked up at him, meeting his eyes as he gazed down at you, his expression so soft and open, filled with a quiet awe that made your heart ache. He brushed a stray strand of hair from your face with a gentle hand, his fingers lingering, tracing the curve of your cheek as if you were something precious, something fragile. “Nah you’re actually so gorgeous, baby,” he cooed, a little smile playing on his lips as his thumb brushed your cheek. He studied you, his eyes tracing every detail of your face as if he were afraid he’d wake up and find this had all been a dream. His other hand slipped around your waist, pulling you even closer, holding you like he’d never let you go.  You couldn’t help but sleepily smile, your own hands finding their way to his, fingers lacing together as you pulled his arm around you, tucking yourself against him. “Can’t believe I finally have you with me,” he whispered, almost like he was speaking to himself, his voice tinged with wonder and something deeper, something vulnerable. You didn’t need to say anything; words felt unnecessary in the soft, stolen space between you. Instead, you pressed a gentle kiss to his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin under your lips, letting the silence say everything that you couldn’t. 

“You feel like a dream sometimes.” After a while, you finally spoke up when something other than sheer bliss came into your head. His arms tightened around you, his thumb gently stroking your side, sending a shiver through you that made you feel acutely, blissfully alive. He tilted your chin up, his lips meeting yours in a soft, unhurried kiss, so full of affection it left you breathless. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his hand cupping your face as he held you there, his gaze deep and intent. 

“You’ve been my dream,” he murmured softly, brushing his thumb across your cheek. You felt his fingers run through your hair, tucking it behind your ear with the same careful attention, his eyes never leaving yours as he continued to trace slow circles on your back. He rested his forehead against yours, his breathing soft and steady, and for a moment, you both stayed there, your breaths mingling in the small space between you. The morning stretched on, time losing meaning as you lay there, cocooned in each other’s arms. The world outside could wait; for now, all that mattered was the quiet perfection of this moment, of being held, of being seen, of feeling his heart beat in time with yours. It was a feeling you wanted to hold on to forever, a softness that seemed to live only in the rare, untouched hours of early morning.

•

Thank you for reading! Please like, comment, or message what you think of the chapter or of what's to come!

Next part - Chapter 8 xx

[levandright]

i need a jay x reader (can be anything really, fic/drabble/hc whatever is easiest) where he's courting the reader the filipino way to win her heart 😍 fluff plz. also please please please, add a part where he's singing us a song he wrote for us if yk what i mean ;)

THANK KEW IN ADVANCE LEV IF U MAKE IT<3 hope ur having a good day and don't forget to take care of urself pooks 💜

JAY — COURTING YOU

pairings : jay x f!reader 🎀 content / warning(s) : fluff, courting/harana, jay is a absolute gentleman, fluff, non-idol au 🎀 word count : 0.5k ᐢ..ᐢ lev notes : took me a while to do this cause my brain was out of creativity >.> hope you like this mootie <3

you and jay met through a mutual friend, and since that first encounter, he's been completely smitten with you.

the two of you hit it off from the start, and jay, with his growing and intense feelings for you day by day, confesses to you during a party hosted by your mutual friend.

you didn’t reject him; instead, you explained how you were unsure of your feelings. you knew him well enough to see he was a great guy—you just weren’t sure if you felt the same way yet.

he asks if you’ll let him court you, to win your heart through his efforts. with no complaints, you agree to this arrangement.

he makes a lasting impression the very next day, showing up at your door with a bouquet of roses in hand, asking if you’d like to join him for a date.

he takes you to a museum, where you stroll around the exhibits together, allowing him to get to know you even more deeply. afterward, he drives you home safely, the evening ending on a warm note.

that’s how the two of you fall into a routine: jay arrives at your door, taking you out on casual yet romantic dates, each outing another step in truly knowing each other.

two months pass by in a blur of shared moments and growing warmth between you. then, one fateful night, you receive a text from him, asking you to look out your window. you do just that, and there he is—your jay, standing in your front yard, guitar in hand, surrounded by flowers scattered all around, creating a scene so romantic you’ve only seen in movies.

as he strums his guitar and sings to you, butterflies erupt in your stomach, intensifying with every note. when he finishes, you head downstairs, to finally answer him.

he stands there bashfully, with his hands fidgetting behind him, waiting for you to say something. you give him a cheeky grin as you finally say what he's been wanting for you to say.

"i've gotta admit, you know how to make a girl feel special," you say, smiling. "i tried to take things slow, but you’ve completely won me over, jay. i’d be crazy not to want to be with you. so… consider this my 'yes.' you're officially my boyfriend."

jay’s eyes light up the moment he hears your answer, his smile widening as relief and happiness wash over his face.

without missing a beat, he closes the space between you, his voice soft but filled with excitement, "you have no idea how long i’ve been waiting to hear that," he says, a hint of laughter breaking through. "i promise, i’ll make you happier than you can imagine."

in one smooth motion, he pulls you into a gentle hug, holding you as if to make sure this moment is real, whispering, "thank you for giving me a chance… for letting me be yours."

as he pulls back just enough to look at you, there’s that familiar spark in his eyes, and with a teasing smile, he adds, "guess that makes me officially your boyfriend now, huh?"

you roll your eyes playfully at him as he repeats what you just said "yes, yes. you're now my boyfriend officially."

perm taglist.@honeybelleee @honeychocos @manaah02 @kozumesphone (open!) requests. open!

©levandright