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plasticflowersinahistorycemetery · 2 months ago

Text

inviolable

part I

Pairing: Ben x Fem!Reader

Summary: Ben's your dad's best friend, his partner in crime, your godfather. You've harboured a secret crush on him for years, and maybe—just maybe—he's got some hidden feelings of his own that he's kept bottled up for too long.

Warnings: 18+!, Ben is his own goddamn warning, age gap, pining/mutual pining, forbidden romance, forbidden relationship, secret/hidden relationship, power imbalance, dubious morality, possessiveness, jealousy, smut (clitoral stimulation, fingering, handjob, cunnilingus/oral, dry humping, p in v, kissing, spitting), dirty talk, mild misogyny, I may have missed some.

Word Count: 7,741

A/N: I'm back. Christ, I'm on a proper mission with writing at the moment. Must be the insomnia. Thank god for it though, eh? Anyways... this is a little something that's been in my head for a long old time, it's based off a weird dream I had a couple months back (I was watching The Boys damn near constantly, like falling asleep with it on and everything, as well as reading a bunch of SB smut) and I just built on it, and it's kinda run away with me a lil bit. <3 Lot of the plot in this first instalment... plot is a term I use lightly. Because—what goddamn plot? Hope you guys like the little Sameo! (see what I did there? Cameo... but... Sam? No? Sorry.) So... this is part one. This one will definitely only have two parts... and knowing me, I'll have it finished by some time tomorrow night. So, yeah, while all the warnings listed above may not be evident here? They will be in the next part. S'gonna be a doozy. Until then? All the love.

Without further ado: INVIOLABLE

There are things in this world meant to remain untouched. Sacred things. Hallowed things. Bound by blood, by time, by unspoken law. To trespass against them is to court ruin—to lay hands upon the inviolable and feel the weight of the world shift beneath your feet.

Some doors are never meant to be opened. Some lines are never meant to be crossed. Some names are never meant to be spoken in the dark, breathless and trembling, as hands that should never touch find purchase in forbidden places.

But the thing about forbidden things? They don’t stay untouched forever.

You don’t remember when it started. Maybe it was always there, a quiet, undisturbed thing, like a seed buried deep beneath the soil, waiting for the right moment to break open.

Ben had been a constant for as long as you could remember. Your godfather. Your father’s best friend, his shadow, his second half in ways that made it impossible to imagine one without the other. There was no family barbecue, no holiday gathering, no Sunday spent in the backyard without him. He was always there, cigarette tucked behind his ear, beer in his hand, voice rough and low like gravel warmed by the summer sun.

And God, he had always been so handsome.

Even as a child, you’d thought so—before you even knew what handsome was supposed to mean. You just knew you liked looking at him, that your stomach flipped when he laughed, that you wanted him to notice you. And he always had.

Where your father had rolled his eyes at your endless energy, Ben had indulged you. When your dad had said no, Ben had smirked, crouched down, and let you climb onto his shoulders anyway, holding you steady as he walked around the yard like you belonged there, like he didn’t mind carrying your weight. He let you hang off his leg, dragging him down with your tiny hands locked around his knee, and he would walk anyway, his booted steps slow and exaggerated as he played along, dragging you through the grass while you shrieked with laughter.

And the gifts. The perfect gifts.

It had been your sixth birthday when he’d given you the lamb. A stupid little stuffed thing, soft and floppy-eared, but from the moment you’d unwrapped it, it had been yours. Clutched in your arms at bedtime, dragged through the house by one matted paw, tucked beneath your chin when you curled into your father’s lap.

"Lamby," you’d called it, with all the solemnity of a child bestowing a title upon something sacred. And it had stuck.

Your father’s friends had made it a joke—called you Lamby just to get a rise out of you, to tease you until you were red-faced and flustered. "Only Uncle Ben is allowed to call me that!" you would snap, every single time. And your father had only laughed, nudging Ben with a knowing grin, muttering something about his little admirer.

You hadn’t understood what that meant back then. You hadn’t known it was anything more than adoration.

But then puberty hit.

And the adoration didn’t go away. It just... shifted.

You told yourself it was still innocent. That it was normal to notice the way his arms looked in his rolled-up sleeves, the way he leaned against your father’s truck, the way his voice melted into you like whiskey and smoke. You told yourself it didn’t mean anything when you hated seeing other women near him. When he brought girlfriends to family parties, when they sat too close, when they ran their hands down his arm or pressed their lips to his cheek, it made your chest ache with something raw and unfamiliar.

He was yours.

Not in any way that made sense, but still. He was your Uncle Ben.

And then came the night after your eighteenth birthday.

You had been drunk. Slurring your words, tripping over the sidewalk, clutching your best friend’s arm as she tried—and failed—to keep you both upright. The thought of calling your father had been enough to send panic clawing up your throat, so you’d called the only other person you trusted.

He had picked up on the first ring.

And twenty minutes later, his truck had pulled up to the curb, headlights slashing through the dark, his expression set in something between relief and exasperation. He hadn’t lectured you. He hadn’t yelled. He had just sighed, tipped your chin up to look at him, and said, "This gonna become a regular thing, Lamby?"

And God, you had hated how warm that stupid nickname made you feel.

He had dropped your best friend off first, watching until she was safely inside, then pulled into your driveway and put the truck in park. He had glanced at you, eyes dark in the dim glow of the dashboard, fingers drumming against the wheel before he spoke.

"I can’t lie to your dad, you know."

"You won’t have to," you had promised, voice soft and a little too sincere.

And that had been enough for him. He had ruffled your hair, just like he always had, fingers threading through the strands before falling away. "Get inside, get some water, and go to sleep. No more stupid shit."

You had nodded, cheeks burning, throat tight. You had felt so young then, under the weight of his gaze. Too young. But you weren’t. And someday, he was going to realise that too.

Then came 4th of July weekend, the year you'd turned nineteen.

The heat had been unbearable.

Thick and wet and heavy, clinging to your skin, making the air hum with something dense and slow-moving. The whole backyard had smelled like charcoal and cut grass, the acrid tinge of fireworks powder settling into the summer air as your dad and his friends—Ben included—set up the launch station.

You’d spent the whole day running back and forth between the house and the yard, fetching ice-cold beers, mixing up pitchers of iced tea and lemonade, your father muttering something about not letting his old ass friends drop dead from heatstroke. It should have been annoying, but you liked being useful, liked the way they all grumbled their appreciation, knocking back the drinks you handed them, sweat dripping from their temples.

And Ben? You’d liked it most when he reached for the glass.

The way his fingers had brushed yours, barely noticeable. The way he had tilted his head back, swallowing deep, Adam’s apple bobbing, before exhaling with a low groan. "Christ, Lamby. Think you saved my goddamn life."

You shouldn’t have felt it the way you did.

But you had.

And now, as the sun dipped low, casting everything in burning gold, you were perched on the picnic table, watching them finish the setup. Your legs bare, thighs sticky from the heat, the denim of your cutoffs riding too high—not that you were about to fix it. Your father was barking out orders, directing Ben and the others, but you could tell they were moving slower now, the heat catching up with them, exhaustion weighing down their steps.

Then Ben sighed, slapping his hands against his jeans. "Goin’ for a smoke," he muttered, and without much thought, he came to rest right beside you.

Not on the bench, but on the table itself. Perched, ankles crossed, the slight shift of the wood beneath his weight making you acutely aware of how close he was.

You could feel the heat radiating off him, that earthy scent of sweat and sun-baked skin mixed with the cigarette as he lit it, fingers cupping the flame from the breeze before shaking the lighter closed.

And then—he glanced at you.

Just for a second too long.

Just long enough for your heart to stutter, for something low in your stomach to twist itself into a tight, hot knot. He looked away too fast, like he caught himself before it could mean anything, and it made you feel a little sick with wanting.

So you grinned, cocked your head, and asked, "Can I try?"

His reaction was instantaneous. A sharp scoff, a low laugh, and then—"Fuckin’ behave yourself."

Your breath hitched.

You shouldn’t have felt it the way you did. But you did.

Something in his voice, in the rough scrape of it, made the air feel different. You weren’t sure if it was disapproval or something else, but either way—your face burned with the heat of it.

You tried to brush it off, tried to act like it didn’t matter, but as he took another slow drag of his cigarette, exhaling smoke into the humid air, you wondered if maybe—just maybe—he’d felt it too.

The fireworks had gone off like crackling constellations, splitting the night sky into pieces, blooming in colours that made your father’s face glow with the kind of pure, boyish joy that made your chest hurt. He had been beaming, beer sloshing in his hand as he threw an arm over one of his old friends, laughter bubbling from his chest.

The rest of them had been just as bad, slurring through old war stories, cheering every time another explosion thundered overhead.

You had slipped away at some point, away from the heat of bodies and the tang of sweat and liquor in the air. The mosquito lamp buzzed softly from the porch as you leaned against the railing, staring out into the yard, the scent of burning gunpowder still thick in the air.

Then—footsteps behind you.

Ben.

"Knew you’d be hiding somewhere," he muttered, already pulling a cigarette from the pack in his pocket. He perched on the railing, flicked his lighter open, and took a slow, deep drag. Then, without looking at you—without any warning at all—he pulled the cigarette from his lips and held it out.

"Just this once."

Your chest constricted.

For a second, you just stared at it—like maybe if you reached for it, you’d burn yourself on something else entirely. But he was watching now, eyes flicking sideways, and you didn’t want to look like a kid.

So you took it. Put it between your lips. Inhaled, tried not to cough.

Ben chuckled. "Look at you. Lil’ fuckin’ menace." Then—softer, lower, just for you: "Lamby."

That did something to you.

Something dangerous. Something hot and breathless and twisting, your whole body thrumming with something bright and stupid and electric.

Then, before you could even process it, he was holding out his beer. "C’mon. Might as well complete the set."

You took a sip, felt the cold bite of it trickle down your throat, the taste of smoke still lingering on your tongue. Ben watched, smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, before he tapped his nose with two fingers and winked.

"Don’t tell your dad."

And just like that—he stood, stretching, rolling his shoulders before heading back toward the others.

You sat there, reeling.

Preening.

Because it wasn’t much, was it? Just a cigarette, just a sip of beer, just a joke. Except it wasn’t. Because it had been just for you. Because you’d felt seen in a way that made something curl and bloom in your chest.

And later, when the house was quiet—when the night was settled, heavy, deep—you still weren’t asleep.

The guys had been too drunk to leave, sprawled across couches, filling up the guest rooms, your father snoring loud enough to shake the goddamn walls. But you were still awake, still buzzing, still aching with something you couldn’t name.

And then—footsteps. Soft. Slow. Passing by your room. You watched the shadow slip under your doorframe.

And then—pause.

Just for a second. Not long. Not even long enough to be real. But you felt it all the same. The moment passed. The shadow moved on. The footsteps faded.

And still—you sat there for the next hour, face buried in your pillow, biting back the giddy, breathless, shaking laughter in your chest. Because whether it had been him or not, it didn’t matter.

You wanted it to be.

And when your first date had come around, you had been so excited.

Not the kind of giddy, fluttery excitement that made you feel small—no, this was something deeper, something that made you feel light on your feet, steady in your chest. It had been a long time since someone had noticed you like that, since someone had looked at you and seen more than just the girl they grew up around, more than your father’s daughter.

And Sam had seen you.

A guy from a couple of towns over, nice enough, awkward but in a way that had made you laugh, spilling beer on you at the bowling alley before immediately scrambling for napkins, his face red as he apologised over and over. He had stayed with you the whole night, ditching his friends without hesitation, choosing instead to sit in a dimly lit booth��while the two of you talked.

Not just talked—really talked.

Folklore. Mythology. The things that made your brain buzz, the subjects you had been considering studying in college, but never quite voiced aloud to anyone who might take it seriously.

But Sam had taken it seriously.

He had leaned forward, elbows braced on the table, asking real questions, pushing deeper, not just humouring you, but actually listening.

And when he had asked you out, when he had ducked his head and scratched the back of his neck, waiting for an answer—

You had squealed. You had said yes immediately, heart skipping, stomach twisting, exchanging numbers before parting ways, feeling like maybe—just maybe—you were stepping into something new.

So tonight, you had dressed for it.

Your prettiest sundress, soft and light, swaying when you moved. Sandals, simple but delicate. You had done your hair, your makeup, catching your reflection before heading downstairs, thinking—"I look… grown up. Pretty, even."

The thought had felt strange, thrilling, like shedding something old, stepping into something undiscovered.

And then—you walked into the living room.

Ben and your dad were lounging on the sofa, beer bottles in hand, eyes fixed on the baseball game you hadn’t even realised was on. The room smelled like cologne and sweat, hops and leather, the low murmur of the commentators filling the space.

You had barely glanced at them as you passed, already reaching for your bag, when you said, "Sam’s gonna be here soon to pick me up."

And that was when Ben spoke.

"Who the hell is Sam?"

His voice had been flat, clipped, like he was barely paying attention—but then your dad answered.

"Some guy who asked her on a date. Seems like a good kid. Bit of a square."

You had opened your mouth to protest, to defend Sam, to tell your dad that being a square wasn’t a bad thing, when you felt it—

Ben’s eyes on you.

A slow, sweeping once-over.

Your breath caught, the moment thickening, stretching, twisting into something you weren’t sure you were imagining.

Then he turned back to your dad, muttered, "She’s too young to be goin' on dates."

And your stomach dropped. Not because you were embarrassed—no, because of the way he’d said it.

The rough edge to it. The way his fingers tightened around his beer bottle, the way his jaw flexed, his shoulders tensing where he leaned into the couch. It wasn’t some offhand comment—it was something else.

Your dad had only laughed, smacking Ben’s arm, shaking his head. "She’s twenty now, man. C’mon."

Ben didn’t answer. Not at first. Just took a long sip of his beer, eyes flicking back toward the screen, but not really watching.

And that’s when your heart started pounding.

Because your father had been fine with it. He had laughed it off, joked about it, made peace with it weeks ago.

But Ben? Ben wasn’t fine.

Ben was annoyed.

And you didn’t want to play things up in your head, you didn’t, but he was coming across jealous.

And that—that made your chest feel too tight, too warm, something curling behind your ribs, something you shouldn’t want as badly as you did.

Because Ben had never looked at you like that before.

Sam had been sweet.

That was the only way to describe him. Sweet. Earnest. Polite in a way that most guys weren’t. He had kept his hands to himself all night, opened doors for you, paid for dinner even when you’d offered to split, and had spent most of the drive home talking excitedly about a new book he thought you might like, glancing over at you every so often like he couldn’t quite believe you were still sitting beside him.

And maybe that’s why you let him walk you to the door.

Because it had been nice. Because he had treated you like someone special, not just a pretty girl, but someone he actually wanted to know.

You had stood there on the porch, shifting slightly, fingers curling around the strap of your purse as he leaned in.

Not too fast. Not too forceful. Just slow, like he was making sure you had time to pull away if you wanted to. And maybe you would have let him kiss you. Maybe you would have closed the gap, felt something soft, something simple, something nice.

But you didn’t.

Because the second your lips almost met—

The door swung open.

And there stood Ben.

Big. Broad. Muscular as hell. Arms crossed over his chest, jaw tight, eyes hard and cold and fixed—not on you, but on Sam.

"’Bout time you got home, Lamby."

Your stomach dropped. Not because of the nickname, but because of how he said it. Because it wasn’t warm. It wasn’t teasing.

It was territorial.

And Sam? He felt it too. You could tell by the way he shifted his weight, by the way he glanced at you, rubbing the back of his neck before stepping back, voice soft, awkward.

"I had a great time."

"Me too," you said, voice smaller than you meant it to be.

He hesitated, gave you a small smile, then turned, walking quickly toward his car, never once looking back.

You stood there, arms wrapping around yourself, watching the red glow of his taillights as he pulled out of the driveway and disappeared down the road.

And then—you turned, crossed your arms tighter, and fixed Ben with a glare.

"What the hell was that?"

Ben didn’t answer right away.

He just… looked at you. Really looked. His eyes dragged over your bare legs, the hem of your dress, the soft slope of your throat, the lingering flushed heat of almost being kissed. His gaze swept slow, unhurried, deliberate, before finally settling on your face.

And his nostrils flared.

You shifted your weight to one leg, your jaw tightening, mirroring the way he stood, meeting him with a glare of your own.

And then—he scoffed.

"Get your ass inside," he muttered, stepping past you, brushing against your shoulder as he did, bigger than you, overwhelming in a way that made your stomach twist. "Before I tell your old man you were about to let some lanky fuckin’ two-pump chump feel you up on the doorstep like you’re easy or somethin’."

You bristled. Your whole body went rigid, something inside you snapping.

"If I didn’t know any better," you bit back, sharp, breathless, "I’d think you were jealous or something."

Not your wisest choice.

Because Ben went still. Not in a way that meant hesitation. Not in a way that meant denial. No—he stilled like a predator hearing its prey snap a twig.

Then—he moved.

Not fast. Not aggressive. Just deliberate. Slow. Unavoidable.

Stepping forward, backing you up against the frame of the doorway, dipping his head down just enough so his mouth was level with yours, so his voice coiled low and hot in the air between you.

"I don’t know what’s gotten into you tonight," he murmured, so quiet, so rough, "but it sure as shit better not be that fuckin’ pussy’s fingers."

You gasped. Your body locked up, breath hitching, eyes going wide.

And Ben just smirked.

Like he liked that reaction. Like he had wanted it.

Then—he straightened. Stepped back like nothing had happened.

"Better get upstairs, get into your comfies," he muttered, voice gruff, unreadable. "Come watch the football with me ‘n your dad. Or I’ll take you over my fuckin’ knee for the backtalk."

Your breath shuddered. You nodded. Wordless. Weak. Then you turned, stepping inside, feeling the weight of his eyes on your back as you headed upstairs—

And you knew.

You knew that nothing about tonight had been normal. That something between you had shifted. Twisted. Changed.

You took your time.

Stripping out of your sundress, pulling on one of your dad’s old t-shirts—soft, worn, faded, the fabric thin from years of washes, hanging loose over your frame. Bare legs, bare feet against the cool wood floors as you splashed cold water over your face, washing away the night.

Washing away Ben’s words. Or at least, trying to.

But they sat heavy in your head. The way he had looked at you. The low scrape of his voice, the bite of it, the way your whole body had locked up at the filth that had dripped from his mouth.

"It sure as shit better not be that fuckin’ pussy’s fingers."

You shuddered, inhaled deep, let the cold burn of the water centre you before heading downstairs.

The game was still on when you walked back into the living room, your dad and Ben both where you had left them—sprawled out, half a beer deep, yelling at the screen like the players could actually hear them.

Ben saw you first.

His eyes flicked over you, quick, assessing, then—that nod. That slow, subtle nod to himself, like he was fucking appraising you. Like you were something to be measured, studied, cataloged.

You ignored the way it made your stomach twist.

Instead, your dad’s attention finally snapped toward you, and his brow furrowed.

"I been wonderin’ where the hell that shirt went," he muttered.

You just grinned, gave a smug little shrug, before nudging his leg with your bare foot, signaling for him to move over.

"Looks better on me, anyway."

Your dad snorted. "The hell it does." Then, before you could flop onto the couch, he smacked your foot away. "Grab a couple more beers before you park your ass."

You rolled your eyes, but did as you were told, gripping the hem of the t-shirt and curtseying, voice sickly sweet.

"Yes, sir."

Then you saluted him, just to really drive it home.

"Fuckin’ wiseass," he muttered.

Ben just chuckled, deep in his throat, like he was trying not to laugh.

You disappeared into the kitchen, grabbed three beers, popped the caps off, and pressed two of them against your chest as you sipped from the one in your free hand, the glass cold against your skin.

By the time you returned, the game had picked up speed, your dad too distracted to care when you plopped the bottles down on the coffee table and threw yourself onto the couch between them.

"Could have moved your lazy ass, y’know," you muttered.

Your dad just scoffed, didn’t look away from the screen.

But Ben?

Ben side-eyed you, slow and heavy, and when he spoke—you felt it.

"Keep up the cheek, Lamby, and I’ll take that beer off you."

Your fingers tightened around the bottle.

"Don’t know what the fuck you’re so cocky about," he muttered, tipping his own beer to his lips, voice just this side of gruff. "Stealin’ one of my beers like I gave you any kinda permission to."

Your stomach flipped. But you didn’t let it show. You just sighed, long-suffering, exaggerated as hell, before taking another slow, deliberate sip, the bubbles sharp against your tongue.

And then—you settled. Leaning back, letting yourself sink between them, wedged in the space you’d claimed a thousand times before.

Except this time, it was different. Because this time, you felt Ben. Felt the heat of him, so close, so solid, so unignorable. And it took everything in you not to shiver.

Because even if you were watching the game—

He was watching you.

The game rolled on, the low drone of the commentators mixing with the occasional grumble, scoff, or sharp curse from your dad or Ben. You sat nursing your beer, the bottle cold between your palms, the sharp bite of it against your tongue as you stared at the screen, more focused on the way the room shifted around you than on the game itself.

Your dad was getting tired. You could tell.

He tried to pretend he wasn’t—hiding yawns behind his bottle, stretching in that slow, lazy way that meant his body was giving up on the night before his mind was.

You, on the other hand, were stretching out more. Slow. Casual. Your bare feet crossed at the ankles, propped up on the coffee table, legs long and catching the glint of the TV, skin warm under the flickering glow.

And Ben noticed.

You felt it, even if he didn’t say a word. Instead, he reached for his cigarettes, shaking the pack once before holding it out toward your dad.

Your father just waved a lazy hand, shaking his head. "Not for me, but might as well light one up in here. Don’t drag your ass outside on my account."

Ben just nodded. Grunted. Then—he lit up, fingers steady, bringing the cigarette to his mouth, holding it between his lips as he inhaled, slow and deep.

The scent hit you instantly—smoke and something deeper, something heavy and masculine, something that made the air feel too thick.

Then your dad yawned—loud and unrestrained.

"Shit, I’m beat," he muttered, rubbing a hand over his face. "You’ll gimme a ring tomorrow or somethin’, tell me how it ends?"

Ben just grunted again, smoke curling from his mouth as he nodded.

Your dad turned to you next. "Lock up after him when he heads out, yeah?"

"Yeah, yeah," you murmured, waving him off.

He just rolled his eyes before disappearing upstairs.

And then—it was just you and Ben.

You went to shift over, to slide into your father’s now-empty spot, but—

Ben clicked his tongue.

Your breath hitched.

Not because of the sound—but because he didn’t even look at you when he did it. Just sat there, lips still wrapped around his smoke, one arm swinging lazily over the back of the couch, his whole posture relaxed, commanding.

"Stay put."

So you did.

But the shift in weight, the pull of gravity, had you falling into his side—your shoulder brushing up against the heat of his broad chest, pressing up into the space right under his arm.

And that was when it hit you.

The smell of him.

The mix of soap, sweat, beer, and smoke, clinging to his skin, wrapping around you like a hand at the base of your neck. It made your head feel light, your skin too tight, your thighs press together just a little too much.

You took a sip of your beer, trying to steady yourself, trying to act normal.

And then—without really thinking, without really meaning to—you turned to him.

"Can I have a puff?"

He scoffed. Didn’t answer right away. But that was fine, because you were already reaching up, already plucking the cigarette from his lips, bringing it to your own before he could stop you.

And when you took a slow, deep drag, before reaching up and placing it right back between his lips—

The eye contact?

Was fucking unbearable.

The kind of slow, steady hold that made the air thick and stifling, the kind that felt like something physical pressing against your chest.

Your lips curled into a slow, shit-eating grin. And then—you exhaled. Blew the smoke right into his face.

Ben didn’t move. Didn’t react. Not at first.

Just let the smoke roll between you, let the weight of it settle as he stared right into you, eyes heavy-lidded, dark, unreadable.

And then—he smirked, slow and knowing, that cocky, heavy-lidded thing that made your breath hitch even though you refused to let it show.

"You’re fuckin’ trouble."

You just smiled, all sweetness and venom, voice syrupy smooth.

"Learned from the best."

His expression twitched—just a fraction. He let out a slow breath, dragging a hand down his face, before finally pulling the cigarette from his lips. His fingers curled around it loosely, letting the smoke rise, twisting in slow tendrils toward the ceiling.

Then—his voice dropped.

"Nah."

His eyes dragged down over you, slow, tracking every inch. His gaze stopped at your thighs, where your dad’s old t-shirt had ridden up, baring just a little too much of your skin.

Then lower. Down your legs, down to your feet.

"I mean it," he murmured, voice gravel, something heavier lurking beneath it. "You are trouble."

Your mouth went a little dry. But you tilted your chin up anyway, feigning innocence.

"Oh yeah?"

He hummed, a slow, lazy sound, before shifting in his seat.

"Didn’t like the way you looked at me earlier."

That threw you. Your brow furrowed, beer bottle cooling between your palms.

"What?"

His jaw ticked. He flicked the cigarette into the ashtray, exhaling through his nose.

"After that little cocksucker left," he muttered, voice low, cutting, "you looked at me with a sharp little glare. Didn’t fuckin’ like it. Not one bit."

That made your lips twitch.

"Maybe that’s because you were acting like an overbearing ass."

The moment the words left your mouth—

His palm cracked against your bare thigh.

Not hard. Not painful. But sharp. Sudden. Enough to make you yelp. Your whole body jerked, legs snapping together, feet moving off the coffee table—

But before you could fully pull away—

Ben grabbed them. Big hands, rough hands, curling around your ankles as he shifted you in one easy movement, and the momentum sent you falling back against the arm of the couch, spine hitting the worn fabric, breath catching in your throat.

By the time you realised what had just happened—your feet were pinned in his lap. And he was staring at you. Sharp. Knowing. Unreadable.

Your stomach flipped. You squinted at him, eyes narrowing in accusation, your body already on edge, already tense. Because you knew. You knew exactly where this was going.

And Ben knew you knew.

His smirk shifted—turned into something smug as fucking sin. And then, he moved. His free hand dragged along the sole of your foot, fingers skimming, featherlight. A slow, deliberate touch.

Your whole body jolted.

"Ben—"

His fingers danced over your skin again, dragging across the arch of your foot—and you burst into laughter. Sharp, breathless, uncontrollable.

"Shove off, you big asshole—"

He only chuckled, voice gruff, satisfied.

"Better keep your fuckin’ voice down," he muttered, pinning your feet harder, his other hand relentless as he tickled along your soles, grinning as you squirmed. "Or your old man’s gonna come down and bust some heads."

You tried to snap your foot back, tried to twist away, but he was too strong, too big, too fucking relentless.

"Dad’s snoring like two bears having a fight up there—" you gasped between giggled curses, thrashing uselessly. "Not even a nuclear blast’d wake him right now—"

Ben let out a bark of laughter.

"Christ," he muttered, still grinning, his fingers raking over your skin again, making you kick and writhe. "You got a fuckin’ mouth on you."

You writhed in his grip, half-giggling, half-breathless, your muscles burning from the struggle as he pinned your feet down like it was nothing. Like you weighed nothing.

"Gonna fucking kill you," you gasped, still kicking uselessly, your ribs aching from the laughter that you hated, that you didn’t want to be enjoying as much as you were.

"Oh yeah?" Ben drawled, voice low, amused, unbothered as hell. "You ‘n what army, Lamby?"

Your frustration surged, and before you could think—before you could talk yourself out of it—

You got a leg free.

And with one smooth, defiant movement, you lifted your knee, stretched your leg out, and pressed your toes against his jaw, pushing his face away.

"This one," you muttered, breathless, still flushed from the tickling.

And for a second, everything stopped. Because Ben froze, his fingers locked around your ankle, catching it before you could pull away, holding it there.

And then—his gaze dragged down your leg. Slow. Deliberate. Lazy in the way that only meant he was taking his time.

You felt it.

Felt his touch, felt the way his fingers tightened, felt the way his eyes swept over your thigh, over your skin, the places where your dad’s old t-shirt had ridden up, the hem curled high from how you’d been squirming—

And then, he saw.

His stare landed on the place between your thighs, on the thin, soft fabric of your panties, barely visible from the angle you were sitting at.

And your entire body lit on fire. Your stomach plummeted, heat spreading up your spine, over your chest, over your face, until you felt like you were glowing under his gaze, burning under it.

And Ben sucked in a sharp breath.

One second. Two.

Then, suddenly, violently, he shoved your leg back down, his fingers gripping too tight for a beat too long before letting go.

He sat up straighter, bracing his elbows on his knees, reaching for his beer like it was the only thing in the room that made sense.

The bottle tipped against his lips. He took a long pull, his throat working, his jaw tight, his whole body stiff.

You just stared at him. Stared at the way his shoulders rose and fell, the way his fingers twitched against the glass, the way he muttered something too low to catch, barely audible under his breath.

And you wanted.

You wanted so fucking bad—

To crawl into his lap, to trace the sharp edge of his jaw, to tangle your fingers in his hair, pull, make him look at you the way you needed him to.

Because he looked so fucking good like this. Like a mountain of a man, big and broad and sturdy, something you wanted to climb, sink onto, plant your flag in.

Your fingers tightened around your own beer bottle.

You tipped it back, taking a long drink, letting the liquid burn its way down, grounding yourself, steadying yourself.

Then—without a word—you shifted, leaning forward to set the bottle on the table, before settling back into your new spot.

Your feet still in his lap.

Ben didn’t react. Didn’t flinch at the contact, didn’t shove you off. He just watched the game. And after a moment, his hand—big, warm, heavy—started rubbing absentmindedly over the arch of your foot.

The game had all but faded into background noise.

The occasional roar of the commentators, the distant sounds of the crowd—none of it mattered. Not when his hands were on you. Not when he had been absently kneading his thumbs into the arch of your foot for the last ten minutes, rolling slow circles into your skin, his grip firm, practiced, easy.

You could feel the rough heat of his callouses, the way they pressed just right, the way his fingers flexed, working the tension out of your muscles like it was second nature.

And he wasn’t even thinking about it.

That was the best part.

Ben was just sitting there, cigarette balanced between his lips, rubbing slow, absentminded strokes over your skin while he watched the game, like he hadn’t once stopped to consider how fucked this was.

So you smirked.

"Let me bum one."

His fingers paused. Then—a glare. Sharp, lazy, warning.

"Cut it with the fuckin’ lip."

But you weren’t done. You tilted your head, batting your lashes, voice turning syrupy-sweet.

"Oh, come on, Uncle Ben..."

That made his jaw clench.

"Let me bum one," you pressed, pouting, teasing, just to see how far you could push. "You know you wanna."

And then, just to twist the knife—

"Corrupt me a little bit."

That did it.

Ben sucked in a sharp breath, something dark flickering through his eyes, his whole shoulders locking up—

And then his cigarette fell. Right into his lap.

"Shit—!"

He jerked upright, cussing, ash scattering over his jeans, pushing your feet off his thighs, slapping at the embers, brushing at the fabric as he snatched up the cigarette and stubbed it out fast in the ashtray.

You should have felt bad. You didn’t. Because you saw it. The shape of him. The press of something thick and stiff against his thigh. And suddenly—your whole body went hot. Because you weren’t imagining it. He was affected.

You were getting to him.

Your stomach coiled tight with satisfaction, your pulse thudding at the base of your throat, and you barely even thought before you moved.

You sat up slow, shifting forward, reaching for the cigarette in the ashtray, fingers just about to brush it when—

Ben’s hand shot out. Grabbed your wrist. His grip was strong. Firm. Tight enough to hold you in place, but not tight enough to hurt.

And when you turned to look at him, his face was dark. His eyes were on fire.

"Fuckin' quit it," he muttered, voice rough, almost wrecked, something like threat and warning and desperate restraint all tangled together.

And then, just low enough that it sent heat licking down your spine—

"Or I’ll tan your fuckin’ ass and send you up to your bed snifflin’ and sobbin’ like you fuckin’ deserve."

Your breath hitched. The air between you thickened.

His fingers burned into your wrist, his body coiled tight, his chest rising and falling just a little too hard, a little too sharp.

And you? You should have backed down. You should have apologised, pulled away, let the moment die.

But instead—

You just tilted your head, blinked up at him with wide, mock-innocent eyes, voice so quiet it could have almost been sweet.

"Promise?"

Ben went still. Not stiff. Not tense. Just—still. Like a predator right before it pounced.

And you felt it—the moment he cracked. The moment you broke him.

Ben didn’t say anything. Not at first. He just sat back, spine sinking into the couch, exhaling slow and deep through his nose, his fingers still wrapped tight around your wrist.

Then—he shifted. His body sprawled wider, his legs spreading, one arm draping across the back of the sofa, his whole presence turning into something vast and unavoidable, taking up space like he was daring you to crawl into it.

And he patted his lap.

"C’mere."

Your breath stuttered. You should have hesitated. You should have played coy, drawn it out, but you didn’t. You scrambled. Too fast. Too eager. Hands bracing against his shoulders, knees pressing to the outside of his thighs, you climbed into his lap, straddling him, settling into the space he had made for you.

And fuck—he was warm. Solid. Unshakable beneath you. His hands landed on your bare thighs, big and hot, fingers spreading, gripping you just enough to make you feel held.

And then—his eyes lifted to yours.

"You," he murmured, voice low, steady, edged with something raw, "are workin’ my last fuckin’ nerve."

You grinned. Syrupy-sweet, saccharine, the kind of smile that could make a saint burn alive.

"I’m happy to work something else, if you want."

The slap came fast. Sharp. Sudden. His palm cracked against your thigh, just enough to make you jolt, your breath hitching, your fingers tightening where they had settled against his chest.

"Where the hell’s this fuckin’ attitude come from?" He muttered, jaw tight, eyes dark, heavy.

You shrugged, playing at innocence, eyes lidded, mouth curling.

"Dunno." Another shrug, slow, deliberate. "Probably frustration."

That made him squint. Accusing. Waiting. Expecting.

So you tilted your head, batting your lashes, voice dropping into something honey-thick and dangerous.

"I mean…" A pause. A breath. A glance down at his lips before dragging your eyes back up to his. "You ever thought about how hard it’s been for me?"

He didn’t blink.

"Enlighten me."

You leaned in just a fraction, your fingers smoothing over his chest, feeling the solid muscle beneath, the warmth of his skin even through his shirt.

"How I’ve had to spend the last few years," you murmured, voice soft, feigning confession, "watching you walk around with your tight shirts, and your big arms, and that beautiful fucking hair and beard that could give a saint bad thoughts."

Ben huffed. Lips parting, breath sharp, eyes dragging over your face like he was looking for something. Then—his fingers squeezed, pressing into your thighs, holding you just a little tighter.

"One to fuckin’ talk," he muttered.

Your stomach flipped.

"Oh yeah?"

Ben scoffed. And then—he let it out.

"Had to put up with you swayin’ around in those little cut-offs—"

His hands slid higher, fingers flexing just beneath the hem of your dad’s t-shirt, thumbs brushing against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs.

"—watchin’ your ass eat ‘em up every time you walked away from me—"

Your heart slammed against your ribs.

"—legs on fuckin’ show, flutterin’ those big eyes at me like you’re fixin’ to get fuckin’ stuffed."

Your whole body flushed with heat. You sucked in a breath, sharp, uneven, lips parting before your tongue darted out, wetting them.

And then—you mock-gasped. Eyes wide, voice soft, laced with something insidious.

"You’re my godfather," you whispered, tilting your head, watching him twitch at the words. "You’re having impure thoughts about me?"

Ben exhaled hard. His grip tightened—just for a second, just long enough to send a pulse between your thighs. Then he groaned. Long. Frustrated. Dropped his head back against the sofa, dragging a rough hand down his face, looking up at the ceiling like he was praying for salvation that wasn’t coming.

And then—his voice. Low. Wrecked. Raw.

"Christ on a cross."

A breath. A sigh.

"Don’t fuckin’ remind me. Your old man’d fuckin' kill me."

Ben’s voice was low, rough, edged with something like guilt—but not enough of it to stop him. His fingers flexed against your thighs, thumbs brushing higher, the pads of them teasing dangerously close to where you wanted him most.

"If he knew the kinda shit I’ve been thinkin’ about you since you turned eighteen—"

Your stomach flipped. Your breath caught, your fingers digging into his shoulders, your whole body going hot at the admission.

Since you turned eighteen. Since you’d beenlegal. Since the world had decided you were fair fucking game.

You gasped, mock-shocked, but real heat licking through your veins.

"What kinda stuff?"

Ben stilled. For a second, he just looked at you, his green eyes burning, pinning you in place. And then, low, quiet, wrecked—

"Stuff that makes me feel like a fuckin’ pervert."

Your stomach dropped. Your whole body tightened, throbbed, ached. And then you laughed. Low. Sweet. Dangerous.

"I’ll show you mine if you show me yours."

Ben grunted, his grip tightening on your thighs, squeezing, pressing.

You tilted your head, grinning down at him, teasing, watching the way his jaw flexed, the way his fingers itched to grab you harder.

"I’ve been thinking about you when I touch myself."

He groaned. His head tipped back, his whole chest rising and falling too fast, too sharp.

Your hands slid up his chest, nails scraping lightly over fabric, feeling the way his body locked up beneath you.

"I think about how your hands would feel between my legs," you whispered.

Another grunt. A sharp inhale, his fingers twitching, his grip bruising, branding.

Your breath shuddered, your body buzzing, your mind spinning with the filth of it all. But you weren’t done.

"I wonder if you’d let me sit on your face."

His whole body went rigid.

"Wonder if I’d feel that nice, clean beard between my thighs—"

Ben rutted up into you.

A sharp, unconscious thrust, his cock pressing up through denim and cotton, so fucking solid that you felt it pulse against you.

You gasped. Your fingers dug into his chest, your whole body throbbing.

But then—his head snapped back up. His eyes met yours again. Dark. Hungry. And then his lips curled.

"You wanna talk about confessions?"

You swallowed, hard.

"Few months back."

His hands slid lower.

"Stole a pair of your panties outta the bathroom."

Your heart stopped. Your breath hitched, caught in your throat, pulse hammering between your ribs.

"Pretty little pink ones," he murmured, low, knowing, like he was fucking testing you. "Little bows on the sides."

You gasped.

"I’ve been looking for those—!"

His smirk deepened. Then—he rolled his hips into you again. The pressure made you whimper, made your head drop forward, your forehead nearly brushing against his.

"You ain’t gettin’ ‘em back."

Your stomach coiled, tight and hot and pulsing.

"Been using ‘em."

Your fingers curled into his shirt, knuckles going white.

"At first, just sniffin’."

Your whole body burned.

"Then the scent went."

Your nails dug into him.

"So I started usin’ ‘em to jerk off."

A sound escaped you, something breathless, wrecked.

His smirk turned downright wicked.

"Not a trace of your scent left in ‘em now, Lamby."

He ground up into you harder, your panties soaked, pressed against the thick ridge of him through his jeans.

"They’re mine now."

You whimpered. Writhed. Because fuck. He was just as wrecked for you as you were for him. And now—neither of you could take it back.

You shouldn’t have said it. You knew it was cruel, knew it was the final fucking push, knew it was only going to break him more—

But you said it anyway.

"If I’d known that sooner," you purred, voice silky, sinful, designed to ruin him, "I would’ve left more out for you."

Ben groaned. Deep, guttural, wrecked, his fingers clamping tight around your thighs as he dragged you along his cock. Slow. Deliberate. Heavy. The ridge of him pressed up against your cunt through your soaked panties, denim rough, thick, a perfect contrast to the slick heat between your thighs.

"You’re a fuckin’ menace," he muttered, gritting his teeth, his hips shifting up just enough to make you gasp. "Been temptin’ me too much."

You gasped. Let your nails scratch over his chest, let your mouth part into a mock-pout, breathless, needy.

"That’s not fair."

Ben huffed, blinking hard, like he was trying not to look at your lips.

"What’s not fair?" he muttered, voice gruff, strained, thick with restraint.

"Knowing I’ve been batting my lashes at you—" you breathed, voice sickly sweet, ruined, eager, "and you’ve been stringing me along."

His fingers twitched.

"Not giving in."

His thighs tensed under yours.

"Not giving me what I deserve."

The slap came sharp. Not as hard as before, but closer. Higher. Right at the crease of your thigh, just barely missing where you wanted it most.

Your whole body jolted. Your breath hitched. Your nails dug into his shoulders, clinging to him.

And then—his voice.

"If I gave you what you deserved," he muttered, voice low, deep, dangerous, a fucking promise, "you wouldn’t be walkin’ right for a week."

A slow, agonising pause.

"And your dad’d know it was me."

Your stomach dropped. A full-body shiver ran down your spine, curling at the base, settling between your thighs. Your fingers twisted in his shirt. Your mouth parted, a small, helpless sound escaping before you could stop it.

And Ben?

Ben felt it. He heard it. And it made him fucking crazy.

"You scared my date off earlier," you gasped, voice small, teasing, ruined. "You owe me now."

Ben’s jaw clenched.

"Should at least make up for it," you whispered, barely any breath behind it, "by letting me touch your cock."

He cursed. Low. Filthy. His fingers dug into your thighs, a full-body shudder raking down his spine, his chest rising and falling like he was barely holding himself together.

Then—his eyes snapped to yours. Dark. Sharp. Unforgiving.

"You sure?"

The words came gritted, strained, wrecked.

You nodded. Didn’t hesitate. Didn’t second guess. Just nodded. And that was it. That was the final straw.

Ben moved fast.

His hand shot up your thigh, rough and unhesitating, fingers hooking under your panties, yanking them to the side—

And then he was inside you. Two thick fingers, stretching you, filling you, sinking to the knuckle in one sharp, devastating push.

You gasped, body arching, your forehead nearly bumping into his.

Ben groaned. His other hand snapped up, tangled into your hair, gripping the back of your neck, pulling you down, down, down—

And then—

He kissed you. Hard. Desperate. Ruining. His mouth slotted over yours like it belonged there, like he had been starving for it, like he couldn’t fucking breathe without it.

His fingers plunged deep, curling, pressing up against the spot that made you quake, made you whimper right into his mouth.

"Keep your fuckin’ voice down," he muttered against your lips, licking into you, filthy, hot, deep.

You moaned, soft, helpless, rocking into his fingers, clenching down on them, your breath shuddering, uneven, wrecked.

"That’s it," he breathed, groaning, his teeth catching your bottom lip, tugging, biting.

His hand tightened at the back of your neck, holding you in place, keeping you locked against him.

"You’re a soaked little thing, huh?"

You whimpered.

He dragged his fingers deeper.

"All this for me?"

Another groan, another thrust of his fingers, sharper this time, rougher, working you open.

"Fuckin’ hell," he rasped, swallowing your moans, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth, groaning as he sucked, wet and hot and desperate.

His tongue slid past your lips, licked into you, a full-bodied claim, filthy, unrelenting.

And you—

You couldn’t think.

You could only cling to him, whimper into his mouth, lose yourself in the feeling of his fingers inside you, wrecking you, coaxing you closer to something you’d never felt before.

@mostlymarvelgirl <3

#soldier boy x you #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy fanfiction #soldier boy smut #soldier boy #the boys fanfiction #the boys fanfic #the boys au #the boys smut #the boys x you #the boys #soldier boy fic #soldier boy x female reader #pfiahc writes #my writing

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waynes-multiverse · 21 days ago

Text

Time After Time – Chapter 2

Summary: Unable to control your abilities, you’re stuck in the present with Billy Butcher, his team, and America’s first asshole. At this point, you’ve become Soldier Boy’s personal punching bag. But when an accident leaves you stranded in 1942, you run into a familiar face and suddenly rely on your future tormentor’s help as your only hope.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x supe!Reader

Warnings: 18+ for language, angst, humor, reader is a supe with chronokinesis (time manipulation), 1942 says hi, fluff if you squint, SB being a nice and kind human

Word Count: 4.8k

Posted on Patreon March 8, 2025

A/N: Welcome to Bizarro World, where Soldier Boy is somewhat OOC (but still a sly dog). Have fun snooping through his life, folks! Big thank you to everyone for your overwhelming support on Part 1 and kudos to all of you who figured out the little time travel theory we're going with here 🤓🩵

Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist || Tag List

Chapter 2: Is This the 40s?

Deep breaths, you reminded yourself as you squatted in a puddle of mud in an abandoned alley, throbbing and roaring head in your hands. If you could only manage to control your jittering, fragile nerves, maybe you’d find your way back.

Come on, come on, come on…

“Miss?”

Fuck.

Your gaze lifted to the tall, shadowy figure by the mouth of the alley, already recognizing the unmistakeable deep timbres of Soldier Boy before he stepped into the light.

“I believe I told you to leave me alone,” you muttered, annoyed.

An idiot like Soldier Boy would not be history’s downfall. You had to ensure the timeline stayed intact. The less interaction you had with him, the better.

“I know. I’m-… I’m sorry, miss,” he apologized once more to you.

If you hadn’t heard it with your own ears, you wouldn’t have thought apologies were even part of his vocabulary, hearing him say the word twice was almost mind-boggling. Then your eyes fixed on the little black box tightly clasped in his left hand and widened in horror – your phone.

Losing futuristic devices like this was a big time-traveling no-no.

Luckily, Soldier Boy was probably too much of a moron to puzzle it altogether. That might just be history’s saving grace.

“You-, uh, you lost this. Just wanted to return it,” he said and tentatively held the phone out to you.

With an exhaustive sigh, you jumped to your feet and ripped the device out of his hand. “Give that to me!”

You huffed a ‘thank you’ and stomped down the alley, back towards the busy street. All you needed was a quiet and warm place to figure this out and return to your own time. But Soldier Boy was still hot on your tail, following you with a swift pace.

“Miss, wait! Wait a second! Hey!”

With a few long strides of his bow legs, he had flagged you down before you’d even reached the main street. But that didn’t halt your feet completely, although he’d slowed you down significantly.

“What? I told you to stay away. Stop following me,” you snapped.

“I’m just trying to ensure you’re alright,” he insisted, attempting to appear as harmless as possible.

At this point, you thought you were beginning to hallucinate because your mind tried to convince you there was actual, legitimate worry gleaming in his forest green eyes. In reality, he was probably just acting to save the damsel in distress, so he could warm her up at his penthouse and slip something into her drink.

Not fucking happening.

“I’m fine.” You gritted a smile and opted to ignore him as you scurried past the first crowd of people on the sidewalk.

“No offense, miss, but you don’t seem fine,” he insisted and ran in front of you, blocking your way. With a frustrated groan, you finally stopped and sent him a glare, but he only met you with a sincere look. “Let me help you, alright? I promise I mean no harm or ill-intention if that is what you’re worried about.”

Ha!

Internally, you snorted. But he raised his open palms again as if to prove his words, his eyes boring intensely into yours. He might as well have been fucking Mindstorm.

“Listen, you look like someone who’s used to getting what he wants all the time, but no means no. Stop following me, okay?”

You hoped you had finally drilled the message into his thick skull and he’d leave you alone after this, but alas he wouldn’t be Soldier Boy if he listened to you. One step past him, and a hand grabbed your arm.

Ready to fend him off, you were surprised to find his grip wasn’t strong by any means. It was barely a brush before he dropped his hand again and looked at you remorsefully.

“I’m sorry! I just-… Please let me help you,” he reiterated with imploring green eyes. “Look, you clearly seem lost. Just tell me where you live, and I can get you home safely, okay? C’mon, you can’t do this to me.” He tried to loosen you up with a charming smile and a puppy dog look. “If you leave like this, I’m going to be up all night, worrying you’ve died of hypothermia out here.”

And my God, he seemed sincere! No wonder he had gotten attention from women like a goddamn bunny in a petting zoo.

Musingly, you then chewed on your lower lip and assessed the man in front of you. The people who strolled by you threw you the occasional weird looks – you’d chosen a bad day to wear a Led Zeppelin t-shirt and ripped jeans.

Admittedly, you could use a little help here. Maybe if you were being careful with the timeline – and him – you could risk it.

You exhaled a hesitant breath, but your head nodded slightly. “Just-, uh, just get me to Fifth Avenue. I can find my way from there, alright?”

It was a simple request, but his brows drew together as if you’d just asked him something insane.

“Fifth Avenue as in New York City?” he questioned.

Oh no, you didn’t like where this was going.

“Yes?”

He clicked his tongue, scratching the nape of his neck where the collar of his coat ended. “Well, uh, I guess I could take you there tomorrow. It’s about a four hour car ride in this weather. I mean, if we took the train, we’d be a little faster.”

Four hours?!

“Where-, uh… What, uh, what city am-, am I?”

He clicked his tongue again. This time, a little smirk twitched on his lips too, but he tried his best to hide his amusement. “Uh, Philadelphia. You know, Pennsylvania?”

“Yeah, no, I know geography, thank you.”

“Are you sure?”

Curling your lips, you tilted your head at him, your cheeks catching heat, even though you were practically freezing. Oh, he was trying to be clever now, wasn’t he?

Sheepishly, he met your eyes and smiled innocently.

But when that little fascinating moment had passed, you realized you were still stuck here, and the panic set back in. Your gaze flickered around – there was nowhere you could go. However, you then noticed something else – no one was staring at Soldier Boy, even though he was supposed to be America’s greatest hero. Was he in a disguise? Was that what he did back then?

“So, uhm… is this the 40s?”

There was beat of silence as he licked his lips. “Yeah, uh, this is the 40s, sweetheart.” He laughed heartily, throwing his head back. “You know, I’ve had some bad hangovers and woke up someplace, not knowing where I was, but I’ve never forgotten the year before.”

No surprise, you thought wryly and then swallowed, glancing back up at him.

“So, uhm, what year is this?”

“It’s January 24, 1942,” he replied patiently, his eyes watching you closely.

And then, it began to dawn on you.

“And what d’you do? Are you, uhm–“ Soldier Boy? “–a soldier?”

He laughed again, his cheeks slightly blushing in the cold. He adjusted the flat cap on his head. “Uh, no. Well, not yet anyways. I actually just came from the office downtown and enlisted when I ran into you.”

Holy fucking shit.

The man before you wasn’t a supe yet. He wasn’t Soldier Boy yet. He was just a normal human, and you felt like you were staring through the looking-glass and seeing Wonderland.

And if your math was correct, it also meant the guy in front of you was no more than 23 years old.

Holy fucking shit.

“But, uh, I also work at my father’s office,” he added after you hadn’t said anything. “Why are-, why are you looking at me like that?” he then asked with a flustered chuckle, and you realized you were still staring at him.

“Oh, uhm, I’m sorry,” you apologized quickly and forced a smile. “You just looked like a soldier, I guess.”

His cheeks reddened even more as he bashfully averted his eyes to the snowy pavement and scratched the back of his neck. “Well, uh, thank you.”

He clearly took it as a compliment that he already looked the part of a hero. Nice save, you praised yourself.

“Why-, uh, why don’t we get you warmed up a little, huh?” he suggested kindly and finally dared to step closer. Swiftly, he took off his coat and draped it over your shoulders and bare arms. “Here, take my coat. You poor thing must be freezing. Look at you, you’re shaking.”

His smile was friendly and reassuring as he adjusted the collar around your neck. Uncomfortably, you rolled your shoulders, though, and backed away from his touch.

“Alright, uhm, just please don’t touch me,” you said, your voice meek and barely audible. You knew technically it wasn’t the same guy who had abused, tortured, harassed, and bullied you for months on end, but you still didn’t want his hands anywhere near you.

“Okay, yeah, sure,” he resigned and raised his palms again before gesturing down the street, trying his hardest not to lay a hand on the small of your back and lead you there himself. “There’s a diner a few blocks from here. Would that be okay?”

Reluctantly, you nodded, wrapping the thick coat, which smelled like his cologne and cigars, tighter around you as you followed him.

Fortunately, the diner was quaint and dimly lit. The bell above the door jingled as you entered with your unwanted sidekick. He made sure to always stay one step behind you, and you didn’t know if it was because it was polite to let the lady go first, or if he just wanted to keep a watchful eye on you in case you’d make a run for it again.

You passed a row of customers sitting hunched over at the counter before Soldier Boy – or not Soldier Boy yet – then picked a table in a quiet corner, away from everyone else as if he knew you’d appreciate the privacy. The less people saw and noticed you, the better. You knew you had to get home fast before messing up the intricate fabric of time too much.

“So, uh, what’s your name?” he asked as the waitress placed down his simple black coffee and your Earl Grey, your cold hands quickly grasping onto the hot mug and warming against the ceramic.

“Uh… Cindy,” you replied quickly, not wanting to give him your real name and share too much. It was smarter to be careful.

“Cindy, huh?” The name rolled off his tongue with a subtle smirk as if he liked the sound of it. “Does that come with a last name?”

“Uh, yes… Lauper,” you replied and bit your lip hard. “I’m, uh, from the Lauper’s of Upstate New York, you know? From a small town called, uh… Flatiron.”

“Huh. Interesting…” he mused, pursing his lips. “Never heard of it.”

“Yeah, well, like I said, it’s a small town…” you deflected and sipped on your drink.

“Well, uhm, I’m Benjamin Brooks,” he introduced himself with a suave smile. “But, uh, most people just call me Ben.”

When you only gave him a disinterested nod, he licked his lips, his fingers tapping against the coffee mug in his hold before he looked at you again and cleared his throat.

“You’ve, uh, probably heard of the name. My father owns half the steel mills in the state,” he said with a bragging grin, which lost its energy when you still didn’t give him the time of day.

“Uh-huh…”

“Brooks Steel Company? You’ve never heard of it?”

“Nope.”

“Huh.” Somewhat defeated, he pursed his lips, his fingers tapping on the table this time. Then, a soft smile formed as he leaned back in his seat. “So, uh, what about you? What brings you here to Philadelphia?”

“Uhm… business,” you said as if you were answering a customs question at the airport.

“Really? What kind of business?”

“You ask a lot of questions…”

He chuckled slightly, his cheeks blushing. “Well, uh, excuse my curiosity, please. It’s just-… well, the clothes you’re wearing and the, uh, weird black box you’re carrying… What is it, anyway?”

Shit.

“Uh, it’s a… flashlight,” you replied, thinking of the most basic function of your phone.

“Flashlight?”

“Yes, it’s a… prototype. Uses lithium-ion batteries instead of the carbon-zinc ones you find in flashlights at this… current time… right now,” you explained in a careful stammer and only realized you might have said too much when his brow raised.

“Huh.” He stumped for a beat. “You know a lot of technical things for a woman.”

Internally, you wanted to groan at the sexist remark, but considering it was 1942, you had to admit he was probably right. Even in the 21st century, it was still a rarity to find a woman in a STEM field.

“Yes, uh, well, my father taught me some stuff,” you lied. As a matter of fact, your father was a drunk loser, who couldn’t change a single lightbulb even if you turned it into a joke. “You know, just small… simple things. God knows I could barely understand what he was saying half the time.”

Your silly giggle at the end was the cherry on top of your sales pitch.

“Ah, that makes sense,” Ben bought it, chuckling.

Jesus fuck, shoot me…

“Where did you get it?”

“Huh?”

“The flashlight.”

“Oh…” Think fast. “I-, uh, I built it, yeah… To sell, you know? It’s an experiment, but it failed, so you can forget about it, okay?”

That was believable, right? Wozniak got nothing on you. And technically, you had already swapped out the broken screen glass of your vPhone multiple times – by yourself. It wasn’t so far-fetched if you really thought about it…

“Alright.” Ben nodded, a smile playing on his lips as he took a sip of coffee. “And, uh, is that why you’re wearing those clothes? Are you a mad scientist or farmhand or–“

Your eyebrows drew together. “A farmhand?”

He laughed lightly, shaking his head. “I promise I don’t mean any offense, sweetheart. It’s just women… people usually don’t really run around wearing… well, that,” he explained and gestured a hand up and down your frame.

Uncomfortably, you wrapped his wool coat tighter around you, the small, pleased twitch of his lips at your action sending a shiver down your spine. As you let your glance wander through the small establishment, you noted the tight dresses and skirts with tailored waists all women were wearing. You definitely looked odd and out of place compared to all the Mrs. Maisels around you.

Most of them were even wearing hats, too. Hats. Wide-brimmed ones and pillboxes and snoods and berets. Fucking berets.

And here you sat – with a messy bun that you hadn’t even bothered to brush once after rolling out of bed this morning.

“No, I-, uh, I just grabbed what I found,” you answered him quickly then but could see his lips parting with another question. Luckily, you were interrupted this time.

“Benjamin Brooks! You rat bastard!”

Ben’s green eyes widened almost comically as he shared a brief look with you before turning his head to the young, furious woman who stormed into the diner, heels clicking on the floor.

Ah yes, finally a more familiar side of the man you recognized from the future.

“Grace, darling!” Flustered, he rose from his seat with an awkward laugh, and you could tell he was trying to keep the drama on the down-low for your benefit.

The harsh slap across his cheek he instantly received, however, echoed loudly through the quiet diner. A few heads turned as cutlery clinked against tableware, but no one dared to say anything. You buried your face in your tea and tried to stifle your laugh.

Man, you would love to slap the human version of him, too.

“Don’t darling me, Benjamin, after you’ve been two-timing me with that tramp Betty Vanderbilt!” the girl yelled loud enough for the whole diner to hear.

Sheepishly and with a bit of charm, Ben scratched the back of his neck. “Well, to be fair, I thought you knew about Betty. We weren’t exactly exclus–“

He barely got the word out before another slap rang through the diner as her hand came down hard on his cheek once more. It was turning crimson red rather quickly and was a sight to behold. You had to admit you liked that girl.

“Not exclusive?! We’re engaged, you dog!”

Holy shit! Soldier Boy used to have a fiancée? Well, you’re not surprised that didn’t work out…

“I already forgave you once for sleeping with Sheila! I can’t believe you did this to me again!”

As much as you enjoyed the show, you appreciated the distraction and saw it as a perfect opportunity to sneak away and finally get rid of him. Stealthily, you rose from your chair and crept by the arguing couple to the exit.

You were warmed up enough to find shelter on your own and hoped the timeline wasn’t too cracked when you’d return. Mostly, though, you hoped Soldier Boy was too self-centered to remember someone like you.

You had made it all the way to the sidewalk again before his voice reached your ears. You sighed your frustration but kept on walking, ignoring his calls.

“Cindy! Hey, uh, wait!”

Shit.

Why was he so fucking fast? He wasn’t even a supe yet.

Once more, he came to a stop in front of you and blocked your way. “Why-, uh, why did you leave? I mean, I know this looked really bad, but–“

“Look, uh, thank you for everything,” you interrupted his beginning of an excuse with as much patience as you could find within yourself. “I know you’re trying to be nice and all, and you’ve been super kind… But I’ve got it from here, alright? Just forget you ever met me, okay?”

Amused, he snorted. “Well, kinda hard to forget someone like you, sweetheart.”

Fucking fuck.

“What d’you mean? I’m completely normal.” You tried to shrug it off, but you’d never been the best actress – another thing the two of you had in common.

“No, you’re not.” A smirk rose on his lips that he tried to bite back. “I mean, sure, you’re exceptionally beautiful, but you’re also kind of… mysterious. Guess that’s what intrigues me.”

Fuck. In all your effort to get rid of him and save the timeline, you had actually attracted his attention more. It seemed like your dismissiveness and aggression had only piqued his interest instead of deterring it. Your fallacy was thinking he’d back off from a strong, rude, and unruly woman like you.

You probably should’ve acted more like Grace, Betty, and Sheila – be forgettable.

“Alright, out of curiosity, does this little routine usually work for you?” you challenged, arching a brow. A smile played across your lips as you watched his reaction.

“What routine?”

“Oh, you know… Turning up the charming smile and being nice, while also dropping your rich daddy’s name and how much money you’ve got,” you retorted. “I mean, I guess it must work, right? Surely worked for Grace, Betty, and Sheila so far.”

Bobbing his head, he pursed his lips for a moment while you enjoyed your win. But with a smack of his lips, he found your eyes, the little smirk on his lips not fully vanished yet.

“Alright, I know how this looks, okay? But it’s not what you think,” he started.

“Oh, so you didn’t sleep with all of these women?”

“Well, uhm…”

Complacently, you threw him a smile. “Goodbye, Benjamin.”

“No, wait! Why don’t you come back inside with me where it’s warm and let me explain everything?” he proposed and then sent you that charmingly cute smile again. “I’m kinda starting to freeze here, you know? You’re still wearing my coat, sweetheart.”

“Oh, uh… Sorry.” Your brow knitted as you stared down at the warm, long clothing item around you. Flustered, your cheeks blushed, but as you began to take it off with the intent to hand it back to him, he stopped you.

“No, uh, please keep it. I can find another one,” he said, laughing softly. “Besides, it looks better on you.”

God, you wanted to slap him like Grace.

“Well, uhm, thank you, but I’m still not coming back in there with you again, alright?” you said firmly. “I have to get going now. Don’t follow me anymore.”

You tried to push past him, but of course, he still wasn’t listening to you.

“Wait! Just wait a second!”

And you knew if you didn’t stop, he would just keep following you till you both died of hypothermia. So, you spun to face him with a deeply impatient frown.

“Do you even know where you’re going? Do you have a place to stay?”

“Yes.”

“Where? In New York? You know, you’re not going to make it there on foot today. Especially during this weather,” he noted with a bit of playfulness in his voice. “Unless, you’re planing on stealing a car.” He chuckled but then lifted a brow at you. “You’re not, are you?”

“No, of course not!”

Well, not the worst idea…

“Alright, look, my parents are out of town for a month. Got the the whole mansion to myself. Just stay at my place for the night, and we can figure out how to get you to New York in the morning, alright?”

“You do know what that sounds like, right? Are you even hearing yourself?” you questioned, causing him to laugh again. It was still weird to hear it without undertones of viciousness in it – like a temporal whiplash.

“The house is big enough, and I promise you’ll have your own bedroom. Not mine, alright?” he clarified but tried to hide a smile. “Unless–“

“Nope.”

“Alright, well, uh, the point is, it’s big enough, so you don’t even have to see me if you don’t want to,” he added with an innocently imploring look. “Just let me help you, please.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, your brow only creasing more. “Why do you wanna help me so badly, huh? I don’t understand. I mean, are you really doing this out of the sheer goodness of your heart of gold? What’s your angle here, soldier boy?”

He chuckled, his cheeks warming with a flush. “Gotta say, kind of like that nickname.”

“I bet you do,” you muttered wryly. “So, why? Why are you helping me?”

Ben scratched his jaw and took a step closer to you. The air shifted, a part of you wondering if he’d finally drop his mask. He kept his deep voice low as he spoke.

“Look, I don’t know what’s going on here, but I know you’ve been serving me a lot of bullshit today.” Your heart stopped, but when you glanced at him, he wasn’t angry. He was… worried. “I don’t mind, okay? You just-… you look like someone who’s in a bit of trouble, and I guess I can relate, so let me help you, alright?”

“I-… I don’t know,” you replied honestly this time, both hesitation and caution shimmering in your eyes as your teeth clawed into your bottom lip. “What if I say no, you’re gonna hand me over to the cops? The asylum people?”

“Is that where you broke out from?”

A bit offended, you gasped. “The asylum?!”

Granted, you were acting a little crazy – for the time period. You were perfectly ordinary and sane in your own century.

Oh God, was that how Soldier Boy felt in your time? Always displaced and out-of-touch? What a horrible feeling…

“No, jail,” he said then, which caused your brow to raise in surprise.

“Oh.”

He cocked an eyebrow at you. “Wait, did you break out of jail?”

“No!”

“Alright, uhm…” Ben laughed and rubbed his palms together, probably to keep himself warm. His sandy-blond hair had collected quite a bit of snow. He must’ve forgotten his cap inside the diner. “Listen, I’m not going to call anyone. I promise you can trust me, okay?”

That seemed like a trap, right? A demon tricking you into making a deal for your soul.

“Are you, uhm, running from someone?” he asked, with not only concern but also determination to fight whoever was after you gleaming in his eyes.

Ironic, you thought since you were running from him.

“Uh, no, not really,” you replied hesitantly.

“Were you held somewhere?” he asked next, carefully licking his lips. “You know, against your will?”

Yes, by you, you wanted to scream.

“Kinda, yeah,” you admitted softly. And in a way, it felt weirdly therapeutic to confess that to the Dr. Jekyll version of your future Hyde.

“Okay, uhm…” He swallowed subtly, nodding. Then, his eyes bored so sincerely into yours you really thought you’d fallen down the rabbit hole. “Well, you don’t have to be scared. You’re safe with me, alright?”

Fuck. You were fucking screwed, weren’t you?

“So? You’re finally gonna let me help you?”

You exhaled a deep breath as you assessed the man in front you once more. You had no place to go, it was cold, and the sun was beginning to set. Your powers, on the other hand, still seemed to be dormant.

“Fine,” you caved at last. “One night. And you better not crawl into my bed, alright?”

Placatingly, he raised his hands again but there was a broad smile on his freckled face this time. “Understood, loud and clear. I heard you earlier – no means no.”

Wow. You began to wonder what really happened to the guy in the following 80 years to shape him into the toxic piece of shit you have to deal with on a daily basis.

“You sure your fiancée won’t mind if you take another woman home? I don’t wanna get burned at the stake again,” you quipped, but there was wariness behind it. Grace’s slaps looked pretty painful. You’d rather avoid it if you could.

“Again?”

“Long story,” you sighed. When you first had told Soldier Boy about your past, he’d been kind and understanding. He’d said it was a good thing that all those people who tried to burn you were dead now – which was about the nicest thing a guy like him could’ve said.

Then he turned around and made fun of you for months on end.

“Well, uhm, I can assure you she won’t kill you. It’s not like that, alright? She’s not my fiancée. Trust me,” Ben said, amused.

“That’s not what she said,” you pointed out. You were definitely believing that woman over him. He was a fucking dog – as Grace put it. You were sure that personality trait was the same at any point in time.

“Technicality.” He shrugged it off. You arched a brow. He smirked. “It’s a long story, too.”

You rolled your eyes, sighing. “Alright, fine.”

Ben’s smile twitched eagerly to rise higher by the heartbeat. “Okay, uhm, my car’s over there.”

He gestured down the street past the diner and let you pass, only walking closely next to you but careful not to touch as his arm only hovered protectively behind your back.

“Still no touching there, alright, Romeo?” you reminded him with a stern finger.

“I know,” he sang, chuckling. “Just trying to be proactive here. There’s a lotta ice, you know? Wouldn’t want you to slip in your basketball shoes.”

For reference, you were wearing a simple pair of black Chucks.

“Fine, I’ll allow it.”

“You allow it, huh?” he teased with a boyish grin.

“Yeah, I’ll allow you to protectively guard me from a distance,” you retorted. “You’re not supposed to enjoy it, though.”

“Oh, I don’t think that was the deal we made, sweetheart.” His grin grew even wider now.

“Don’t make me regret this already,” you sighed.

“Well, uh, too late. We’re already here,” he then said and stopped, motioning to a deep emerald green, elegant, sleek car with a beige convertible roof. “That’s it. It’s a Cadillac 75. What d’you think?”

“I don’t know enough about cars to be impressed,” you told him.

He laughed, rubbing his chin. “Well, worth a shot.”

Ben then opened the door for you and waited till you were safely seated inside (or trapped) before rounding the vehicle and sliding into the driver’s seat.

And as the two of you drove down the snowy streets of Philadelphia, you wondered if you had just gotten into a car with Clarence or with the fucking devil himself.

▶️ Chapter 3: I'm Going To Be a Lady If It Kills Me

Ah, yes... Wouldn't we all love to slap him like Grace in the future? 😂 What do you think of young Ben so far? While he seems nicer and kinder than his alter ego, there are surely some core personality traits present 😜

Coming Up:

Reluctantly, you stepped into the hallway, unsure of how to ask, but the need to find something – anything – took over. It wasn’t like you could just wander around in a towel, although you were sure your host would probably appreciate the sight.

“Uhm, Ben?” you called softly, your tone a little shakier than you'd intended.

A few moments passed before his voice answered from down the hall, a bit too loud, as though he’d been waiting for this. “Yeah?”

“I-, uh, I don’t have... anything to wear,” you said quietly and swallowed, your gaze drifting to your bare feet on the floorboards.

There was a long pause before he appeared in the doorway, his face flushed. “Right. Well, I-... I can get you something,” he said. His eyes flicked to the floor for a moment before meeting yours again, the awkwardness hanging between you like a palpable thing that you could reach out and touch with your fingers. “I–” His voice dropped lower as he turned away for a second, his hand on the doorframe. He then gave a brief chuckle, almost self-conscious. “I don’t usually keep spare clothes for, uh, guests. But I’m sure I can find something that fits you. One second.”

You felt tethered to the ground as he disappeared down the hall, unsure whether to laugh or fucking scream. He came back a few moments later with a shirt and pants, an outfit clearly meant for a man, and you were pretty sure they were his own. The fit would be loose, but better than nothing.

“Here,” he said, offering it to you. His gaze lingered on you a second longer than was probably polite before he turned away again, his cheeks tinged pink.

Yeah, you had to get rid of the towel. You didn’t want to give him any ideas – or more, for that matter. He’d already seen you naked various times in the future. You knew privacy was an alien concept to that man.

🚀 Read up to 4 chapters ahead on Patreon now

Tag List Pt 1.:

@alwaystiredandconfused @xlynnbbyx @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @blackcherrywhiskey

@deansbbyx @foxyjwls007 @ladysparkles78 @roseblue373 @zepskies

@agalliasi @yvonneeeee @hobby27 @iamsapphine @globetrotter28

@lori19 @lacilou @feyresqueen @suckitands33 @onlyangel-444

@syrma-sensei @perpetualabsurdity @yoobusgoobus @jessjad @dayhsdreaming

@hunter-or-the-hunted @k-slla @just-levyy @mrsjenniferwinchester @illicithallways

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@nesnejwritings @samslvrgirl @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @fromcaintodean @barewithme02

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@lamentationsofalonelypotato @supernotnatural2005 @stoneyggirl2 @kr804573 @m0e0v0v

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ayyy-imma-ninja · 7 months ago

Note

I’m the new TLAES video both Dazzle and sun have a chip/some part of their tooth missing

Dazzles looks more like a missing/baby tooth

Is her tooth a missing tooth or a chip like her fath- AHEM I mean sun:3

it's a personal design choice!

Sun's official art for the SB game gives him a tooth gap. SAMS Sun absolutely hates it.

I give him one in LAES thumbnails out of pure spite X3c

#answered ask #laes #laes thumbnail #laes spoilers #lunar and earth show #sams sun #laes dazzle #laes evelyn #tsams sun #sun and moon show

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jevilowo · 8 months ago

Text

MY OPINIONS ON VARIOUS TF2 SHIPS

For funsies

SCIENCE PARTY:

fun ship, but they're GodComplex4GodComplex and I fear that would only end in disaster

TOASTED SANDVICH:

if there is one heavypyro fan on this stupid baka planet it is me. shout out to menacing quiet individuals who like violence but have a soft side fr.

BLOODY SUIT:

literally The Original toxic yaoi rivals to lovers red blue combo ship. speeding bullet and napoleon complex fans WISH they had our shared update and corresponding voice lines

BATTING HELMET: (scout n solly)

i just think it's really funny trust me on this one guys. have you seen them in the fourth comic it's a constant "yes, and" bit between the two of them. soldier's love language is choking people out.

HIT AND A MISS: (scout n pauling)

like most ms pauling ships, i'm only into it if scout's a cool lesbian. which he is not most of the time.

RED OKTOBERFEST:

AAAAAAAAAAAAA literally the ship of all time save me heavymedic save me. if they don't smooch in the next comic i will become jay pinkerton's personal sleep paralysis demon.

SPEEDING BULLET:

my feelings on it are Complicated. twas my first love (otp) in this fandom, but the overabundance of twinky uwu scout and daddy dom snoipah has built up some resentment on my part. call me back when people stop making up imaginary life problems for sniper to comfort scout over.

NAPOLEON COMPLEX: (Spy n Engie)

literally just rarjack if they were boys and not horses to me and i'm not even an mlp fan. it's alright, just doesn't really stick out to me.

SPYMA:

LITERALLY THE POWERCOUPLE EVER TRULY A LOVE STORY FOR THE AGES or at least the version that exists in my head is. i have so much made up spyma lore it's crazyyy. bonus points if they're polying up they cule with sniper it's quickly becoming my favourite genre of fanart (i have seen at maximum three)

SUPPORT SANDWICH: (spy n sniper n medic)

in my opinion, it is healthy for everyone to have at least one ship they just like bc they think it's hot. for me, that is support sandwich. not much else to say on that the fics are all banging go look them up.

SNIDOS: (sniper n GLaDOS)

hell yeah.

ADMINPAULING:

i used to like it a lot, but timelining implies ms pauling's been working for helen since her mid teens at the latest so i no longer like it. 4chan leaks my beloathed pleaseee don't make them kiss i think it would kill me in a bad way

URINE SAMPLE: (medic n sniper)

there's a lot of werewolf and vampire stuff for these two on ao3 which is pretty fun. and i'm way more likely to find sniper angst under the medicsniper tag than sb and bs which is always a plus.

FRENCH TOAST: (spyro)

have you seen that one animation where pyro gives birth to spy's child and gordon freeman is there at one point. yeahhhh. the ship's pretty cute tho spy would be sooo soft for pyro they'd light his cigarettes for him.

BOOTS AND BOMBS:

THE FORBIDDEN RED/BLU ROMANCE GOES CRAZY I ADORE IT. same team bnb is pretty banging too. bonus points if they're polying up they cule with zhanna.

SPYPAULING:

HEAR ME OUT ON THIS ONE. imagine. spy x pauling. yuri. that will be all.

SWORDVAN:

SWORDVAN MY LOVE!!! idk what it is about demo and sniper together but HELL YEAH TOP 5 SHIPS FR FR. shout out to the guy still writing monsterous intent, they're like single handedly carrying the swordvandom.

TEXAS TOAST:

I used to think "this is cute" but then my friend got really really into it and that hyped me up into "THIS IS ONE OF THE BEST SHIPS OF ALL TIME" territory. bonus points if they're yuri! shout out to Technicolor California, my current favourite fanfic of all time (it overtook running blind in the interal rankings). oh yeah insert mandatory "no hate to engie and pyro father son dynamic preferers" message here lol.

Ok that's enough I will cover more at some point maybe.

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binniesbooks · 9 months ago

Note

hi my fayebae~ since u said u loved the car clip of soobin, here’s one for u to write ur heart away!! (U can of course choose whether u wanna do it or not no pressure!! Im just sending since its at the top of my mind rn, ahh n im sorry for so many request i usually dont send anyt in but🥹i didnt think it would be this fun to see my request coming to life uk but i digress)

idk whether u would like this but:

bf!soobin x gf!brat!reader

they got into an argument and stuff but soobin who still loves his gf comes n picks her up after (cheerleading?prac of some sorts)

Otw home… reader gives the cold shoulder to soob, not talking thru out the entire journey? So soob decides to take a detour n drives to somewhere that doesnt have many ppl looking in the night.

They start talking n tried to resolve whatever their fighting abt, one thing led to another, well reader is giving him a bj!!(the rest of the smut is up to u!!)

inspired by that soob clip of course~ have fun love💗

REVVED UP EMOTIONS

SB 000 .F23 2024

wc 3.7k

pairings bf!Soobin x bratgf!reader

warnings oral sex, semi-public, unprotected sex, slight brat taming, being almost caught, pet names (+ anything that I missed)

faye's note this clip was on my mind 24/7. And after receiving it I got excited making this one out but I'm not sure if it turned out good because my mind was kinda occupied with thesis shit. Omfg. Anyways, I hope it isn't dry tho 😔

Conflict is an inevitable part of any relationship, be it familial, platonic, or romantic. Arguments can arise from misunderstandings, unmet expectations, or simply the simple things from daily life. Recently, you found yourself in a heated disagreement with Soobin, your boyfriend.

The sun hung low one afternoon, casting golden lights through the window. You were sprawled on the couch, mindlessly scrolling through your phone. Soobin on the other hand, who had just come home from a busy day at university, was busy, again, in the kitchen, occasional noises of clicks and clangs of utensils on pots and pans plus the opening and closing of the faucet can be heard.

You overheard him murmur "Yeah, dinner for two," as he clicked his tongue. You felt a strange pang of irritation swell within you. It wasn't about him or the meal he was preparing, it was you. You actually promised him you would help out, maybe even cook together, but here you were, scrolling on your phone.

You stood up as you trudged to the kitchen, arms crossed as you leaned on the sink. "You didn't have to do all this," you stood feigning nonchalance as you bit your cheek to not show the guilt you were feeling. "You could have asked me for help."

"Oh?" He looked at you with disappointment, "I thought you were busy checking social media," his blunt reply and harsh tone made your ears hot out of irritation. "I didn't want to interrupt your 'important' scrolling."

The sarcasm was too emphasized and it stung more than you expected. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Your eyebrows furrowed as you met with his gaze. "Nothing! I just thought maybe you'd care enough to have some initiative or something. We both agreed to share the chores. I was tired the whole day only to come back home without even eating a single thing." His voice raised with frustration as he threw down the spatula.

"I was going to help!" Your voice was quite high as you tried to cover how you abandoned your promise. "Oh yeah? I was out all day to finish my projects. And there you were scrolling through your phone." He said as he crumpled the apron he was wearing and threw it also on the table.

"You know what, Soobin? Maybe I don't always want to help! Maybe I want a day off too!" You felt the tension suffocating the air around you. Your heart raced but you're too afraid you're wrong.

"That's fucking selfish!" His voice rose, echoing in the confines of the kitchen. "You can't just say you want a break when we agreed to support each other!" He even added. "Fine! I guess we don't need any support then!" You turned on your heel as if fleeing away would help erase the hurtful things that had been said.

"Hey, y/n! Where are you going!" He called but you did not even take a glance. He called you multiple times but his voice just faded out as you were stomping your way to the bedroom.

That night, you didn't come out for dinner. Your mind was in a whirlwind of regret and stubborn pride. Soobin had a point, you were just lazing around that time, however, you don't want to accept that it was your fault. That same night, he didn't come into the room. Your shared bed feels so empty, but you can't just bring yourself to ask for an apology.

Later that morning, you tiptoed your way out. Still too early that your boyfriend was still sleeping, uncomfortably by the way, on the couch. You just grabbed bread and water and went out.

You two always ride his car to go to school. But this time you were determined not to ask for a simple apology and went out by yourself instead. And yes, you were planning to walk to school for your practice. However, some guy passed by and let you ride their car. Since you know the one who offered you a ride, you accepted the offer. It was Kai anyway, aside from being in Soobin's circle of friends, he was part of your cheerleading team.

"Why are you walking so early in the morning? Where's Soobin?" He asked out of curiosity.

"I don't know, maybe somewhere." You answered as you rolled your eyes, still being stubborn. "Are you two fighting?" Kai chuckled as he watched your actions while the traffic light was still red.

"We broke up." You nonchalantly remarked. Well, that was supposed to be a joke, and you never thought that Kai would actually believe those words.

"Woah shit! You what?" He was really startled at what you said as he covered his mouth while keeping the other on the wheel. You just laughed at him as you took the last bite of the bread.

Your whole Saturday went on like the usual cheerleading practice days. But since your mind is still in a whirlwind of pride, you couldn't focus. Causing you to crash multiple times while practicing. You were even scolded by your coach and instructors telling you that you looked like your mind flying or some sort. You just rolled your eyes at them whenever they turn their backs to you.

For that reason, you got hurt, earning yourself a few scratches here and there. You didn't even bother at all. Kai on the other hand, took the chance to treat your scratches. You're still not aware that he actually took your words this morning to heart and mind.

"It's just a scratch, Kai. No need to create a big fuss." You chuckled as he handed you a few bandages.

"Still, scratches can cause infection." He defended himself.

"Fine fine, you win." You sighed in defeat.

You two shared each other's company during lunch that day. You could even tell that many eyes are watching you -- no, most probably judging you at this point. Nonetheless, you just shrugged it off and enjoyed Kai's company instead. Not knowing that this could fuel some bigger fire. Fire that Kai holds, and fire that your boyfriend holds.

Since Soobin was not on the campus that day, he just stayed at home. He can't even contact you since you purposely left your phone. He was just cleaning all day. Just decluttering everything at home. He knows you're practicing today anyway. The only difference is that he usually accompanies you to school and waits for you until practice is done and brings you home, but now, he's just at home busying himself with the chores. He just planned to fetch you later this afternoon and treat you to some restaurant to make it up to you since he feels sorry about raising his voice at you.

"Let's wrap up here today." Your coach shouts as he reminds the assigned cleaners to clean the gymnasium before going home.

"Ugh! Cleaning this whole gymnasium sucks!" You complained, picking up the materials your team has used.

"Anyway, why are you still here? You're not on the list to clean today, right?" You were pertaining to the young boy tailing you. He smiled as he scratched the back of his head, "I want to offer you a ride home." His voice was barely above a whisper.

"Don't you have like, any other things to do?" You asked, counting the pompoms before storing them in the box.

"Don't have any." Kai shook his hand as he took the box from your hand and headed to the facility room.

As soon as you and the other were done cleaning, you immediately headed out, Kai insisted on carrying your cheerleading bag. Once again, eyes were gawking at the two of you. You can hear a few of them mumbling but you still ignored it.

Kai opened his car door to let you in. But before you could even step foot inside, someone spoke which made you stop in your tracks. "Where are you headed to?" You turn around to see Soobin as he brings his window down.

"O-oh Soobin hyung." Soobin nods at the younger boy to notice his existence, his elbow hanging at the open window.

You quickly retreat as you grab your bag from Kai. "I-i thought..." Kai stammered as he looked at you. "I was just messing with you Kai, it's not real." You sighed. "What did she say?" Soobin interrupted as he turned to you. You're just a millisecond late to cover Kai's mouth as the words slip out. "She said that you two broke up." Soobin snapped his head towards the younger, a smirk forming on his lips. "Did she?" Kai just nods, still clueless. "Get in," Soobin commanded over you. "I'll take her home, be safe, Kai," Soobin says as he closes the window, whistling.

The whole drive is deafening in silence. You can't hear anything except the faint music playing on the car radio.

"Wow, did we actually break up?" Soobin states with unbelief as he taps his fingers on the wheels.

You were still saying nothing. "Y/n, seriously, are you still mad at me? You didn't even eat last night." He sighed as he continuously threw you glances. Both of your hands were properly curled up in a ball above your thighs clutching your short skirt as you stared outside the window. Looking at whatever unpleasant view outside that seems interesting to you.

The once bright clouds turned darker. "Is it gonna rain? I thought I checked the weather news before I went out." Soobin whispers, changing the stations to listen to the news.

The raindrops started to fall on the car window, drizzling softly as it made the glass cold. "Grab my jacket in the backseat." Soobin talks to you again, but you're not even giving him a single glance.

Soobin messages his temple, "I wanted to take you to a restaurant tonight to make it up to you, but it looks like it's pouring really hard. I'm sorry y/n, just please talk to me." He's totally losing his patience at this point as if he's gonna burst again but tried his very best not to go over the top. He regretted raising his voice yesterday so much.

The once-familiar view of the road becomes foreign to your eyes. You turned to Soobin, looking at his unusual demeanor. If he'd been talking so much earlier, his lips were totally shut now. You wanted to speak and ask him where he was bringing you or what was wrong but you stopped yourself. Whatever will be, will be, you thought to yourself.

The rain started pouring harder, and the once busy road you were on looked empty now. Thunder clasps from far away making a rumbling sound. You try to rub your shoulder to create friction to keep your body warm. You're starting to feel cold and Soobin hasn't thrown you a glance nor commented anything at you.

He suddenly pulled up on the roadside, and the light from the lamp post dimly flickered inside the car.

"Not gonna lie, I felt like a dumb ass talking to a wall earlier." His eyes met yours for a while before you averted your gaze. He grabs his jacket and hands it to you, "Wear this, you must be cold. I just realized, your skirt is too short, and your tank top is too thin, at that." He eyes you up and down as you wear his jacket.

"This is fucking crazy." He mumbled as he pulled his hair.

"Y/n, baby, look, I'm really sorry for raising my voice at you, hm? I was just really tired last night." He gently placed his hand above yours on your thighs.

Your eyes were following a few cars passing by as if they were the most interesting thing in the world. You felt Soobin hold your face gently. "Baby, please look at me. I'm not used to this. You know me." Soobin's eyes were practically begging. He couldn't stand you giving him the cold shoulder.

The truth is you were just afraid. You're afraid to admit you had acted selfishly. Afraid of facing him after a petty argument over something so trivial.

"I just want you to talk to me," he caresses your cheeks, words so gentle and comforting, "I can't fix this if you won't talk to me."

Soobin pulls you in for a hug, warming up your heart. You buried your face in the crook of his neck, surrendering to him and putting down your stubborn pride. You mumbled a soft sorry as he gently rubbed your back. You let your arms move freely, as you return the hug to Soobin.

"Please don't do this again to me." He kissed your forehead. "I'm sorry for raising my voice, baby. I'm sorry for making you feel upset at me." Soobin's probably the sweetest guy you could ever ask for. He can make you feel loved and appreciated, but of course, you're just stubborn and bratty at times, which makes him wanna lose his temper.

Soobin pulls away, showering your face with a hundreds of kisses. You can't help but giggle at his actions."I didn't mean to shut you out." You mumbled with a pout. "You don't look sincere." Soobin commented which made you pout more. He chuckled as he pulled you in for a kiss.

The kiss felt soft and gentle. That's why you had no idea, why he was shoving his tongue inside your mouth. He bit your lip with a little harshness making you push him away. "Oww! What was that!" You complained. Soobin simply smirked at you. "I'm asking for an apology and forgiving you for one, but not the other issue." His smirk turns to a frown. "Soobin I can explain that..." Your heart began to race, thumping so hard you could feel it in your throat.

"Why don't we use that pretty little mouth of yours on something else good, yeah? Instead of giving people an opening to pounce on you." His eyes scream anger and lust at the same time.

"What do you mean?" You asked clueless. "What do I mean? You really want to hear the exact words?" Soobin taunted. "I don't get what you are saying." You shook your head. "I'm telling you that you just made an opening to let Kai pounce on you. Are you that dense, that you don't even know he likes you?" You were shocked at what Soobin just revealed to you. You opened your mouth to answer only for him to cut you off.

"Or don't tell me you wanted it all along?" He scoffs. "Soobin don't talk like that --" "Don't talk like what, doll? Aren't you the one who told him we're over?"

That's it, those words pushed you over the edge, switching your bratty side once more. "Okay, so what? What if I wanted it all along?" Your voice raised once more. "Kai is a good guy, plus he knows how to take care of someone he likes." You pushed Soobin's chest away from you. Soobin scoffed again, brushing his tongue inside his cheek.

"And I can tell --"

"Backseat. Or else --"

"Or else what? Huh? Are you gonna order me around again? Raise your voice over me again?" You taunt.

"I said backseat, you brat." He fixed his gaze on you and held your wrist.

His words are firm and strong which makes the hair on your neck stand up. He unbuckled his seatbelt and shifted the gear to park, leaving the car idle and the headlights on. You have no choice. You crawled your way to the backseat. you squeezed yourself to fit and pass by the center console. Soobin followed quickly, making his way through the front and back doors. As soon as he settled in the backseat, he ruffled his hair to whisk away some water from the rain.

Your eyes waver as you avert your gaze from him. His hand squeezed both your cheeks, "My patience is running low from your actions, doll. You're making it worse."

Soobin pulled you on his lap. You were almost covering him with how big his jacket you were wearing. His surname is written in big fonts.

He hiked up your skirt only to find out you had nothing underneath other than thin panties. Soobin scoffs, "Don't tell me you were gonna ride Kai's car with just this?" You bit your lip as you placed your hands on his shoulder when he started to rub you with your panties still on.

Soobin clearly knows how to make your knees weak. With just a simple touch and you're back to square one from being a brat. He pulled your panties off slowly without breaking the eye contact. His brows are still furrowed and you can still feel his anger.

"Let's see if you'd still want to ride his car after getting out of mine." He clicked his tongue and licked his finger, pushing two at the same time. Your mouth hung open as you squirm. "S-soob..." You can't talk straight, no, you don't wanna talk actually, but he has his ways to make you open your mouth. "How is it? Still wanna ride his car?" A sly smirk tugging on his lips. In which you replied with just a shake of your head.

"I'm close..." You whispered, biting your lips, watching how his fingers disappears and appears in your cunt. You shudder with the sensation, your high coming to you. But Soobin pulled his fingers out. You whined, hiding your face on his neck as you grind yourself above him.

Soobin's too focused on making you say the word sorry for the said issue. He did not even expect you'll act bratty once again after just apologizing for what happened yesterday.

He gripped your waist. "Stop moving or you'll not gonna cum for 1 week." Hearing this, you whine once more. You can't stand that punishment at least. But instead of getting the words out of your mouth, Soobin wasn't prepared for your action of apology.

You unzip his pants and slowly stroke him. Your face is still hidden in the crook of his neck. Planting soft kisses on his shoulder blade to his neck.

"Doll." His voice is warning yet you didn't budge, with only a small "please let me" coming out of your mouth.

His hand rubbed your back up and down, slipping them inside your top. Your skin is burning to his palm.

"What's with you, huh?" He asked, but he clearly knows you'd rather act like his little slut than let the five-letter word out of your pretty mouth.

You pulled back, squeezing your body once again on the small space between his legs. "Fuck-- just stop giving him signs -- ohh shit!" Soobin clearly shows his frustration at how he grips on the door. You gave him a few kitten licks and swirled your tongue on the tip of his cock making him jolt.

He looks down at you, meeting your eyes, "Fuck, is the word too much for you to say?" You took him whole the moment he spit those words making him thrust up a bit and lean back his head on the headrest.

"Ahh!" His breathy moans filled the car, making the glass foggy despite the rain and cold atmosphere outside. His hands tangled in your hair as you bobbed your head slowly.

You whimpered at how his cock pulsated on your tongue and how his tip kissed your throat. He gently caresses your cheeks as he holds them. You automatically leaned on his hand as you let him fuck your mouth.

His eyes were tightly closed. Lower lip trapped between his teeth. One hand on your cheek to hold you and the other firmly gripping the door to keep himself grounded.

"Baby fuck!" With one last thrust, he's cumming in your mouth. Draining himself on your wet and hot lips.

His heavy pants were the only thing that could be heard inside the car. Not until you hear a knock on the window. You quickly scrambled up your way to the seat as you sat properly, Soobin shoving his shirt down to cover his exposed length.

He opened the window slowly. "Is everything fine? You're hazard is switched on." A police officer said with an umbrella in hand, roaming his eyes inside the car. He even added that he was just passing by and noticed the car had switched on the hazard.

"I'm sure I didn't put the car on hazard though., must be when I got out.." Soobin mumbles, "But everything is fine, we just need to talk something out."

"Take care then, it's pouring hard." The officer apologized before going back to his car.

You looked at Soobin, fear evident on your face. You were doing things in a semi-public place but here you are, totally scared of getting caught. Soobin chuckled at you.

"Can you turn off the hazard light?" He appealed. You propped yourself on top of the center console to reach for the hazard button. But seems like some other button is getting pressed instead, as your hands retreat back to cover your mouth.

Soobin's tongue is licking your exposed cunt. Eating you out while you're still on the center console.

"S-soob, wait.." you tried your best to appeal to him but he did not budge. He continued shoving his tongue inside you. He then gently pulled you back to his lap, slowly sinking you down on his cock.

One of his hands lightly squeezes your neck, the other one pulling one of your hands back. He stopped you from covering your mouth as he continuously thrusts upward.

"Tight.. so tight..." He mumbles at your nape. "Pussy so good for me."

"M-more please." You quietly pleaded as you tried moving your hips. "Someone's eager to be filled." He commented back. "W-wanna be full of you, Soobin." You're feeling lightheaded at how he's squeezing your neck. He can't help but leave hickeys on your shoulder as he thrusts harder.

"I'm gonna get you pregnant at this point," he huffed. "D-don't care, w-want you," your words are slurred as you lean back on his chest.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" No other words just curses, was coming out of his mouth as he felt his cum being released.

You were totally breathless, your body slumped on him, his cock still twitching and pulsating inside your cunt. Soobin is totally worn out, dipping his head down on your shoulder.

"Let's stay like this for five minutes then we'll go home." He mumbled.

@binniesbooks 2024

#faye's library #soobin's books #soobin x reader #soobin smut #soobin x you #choi soobin x reader #choi soobin x you #choi soobin smut #soobin imagines #soobin scenarios #choi soobin imagines #choi soobin scenarios #txt smut #txt imagines #txt scenarios #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts

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grapefives · 7 months ago

Note

im in love w how u wrote for hoshina.... can i ask for more please 🙏🙏 any fluff or teasing (him) would be ok i just binged kn8 and fell for him 😩 ( also male reader rise up bc this man makes ME rise up i get cuteness aggression w him sb)

HIGH, HIGH | OS

hoshina x gn!reader (platoon leader reader!)

fluff + teasing + cuteness aggression + light mentions of injuries

a/n: (IMPLIED MALE READER) stop, i feel the same way. i just wanna east him up

your eyes won’t stop looking at those narrowed eyes, the ends of his bangs falling softly over them and casting a pretty shadow. you trail down to his cute nose, then to his lightly puckered lips. you smile, biting it back when you sense his narrowed gaze flitting towards you.

“y/n.” hoshina says sternly.

“yes?” you ask, returning your gaze to the belt you have yet to fasten around your waist.

damn him, he always catches your gaze before you look at the best parts.

“nothing,” he says, and he turns around to look around for his swords.

he can’t hide from you. you know your fiancé too well. you catch the redness in his ears as he gives his back to you. you eyes down at his waist, smiling at the empty slits on the back of his belt. you take the swords you had sneaked out of them and trudge up to him. he’s murmuring softly to himself as he looks around.

“-swear i never take them out-“ he says before pausing.

you put the swords back in their rightful spot before placing both your hands on his waist, a bit above the belt hanging around him. he’s not exactly frozen in place, but pausing with anticipation. you only smile, leaning your whole weight from behind to press him forward a bit…only to place a kiss on the shell of his ear.

he shivers before smacking your arm when you quickly step away with a cackle.

he glares at the back of your head as you walk out of the office, saying something about finding out the commander over an inquiry. he knows your lying, to an extent at least. he makes sure he has everything on him before walking out, he has to watch the officers practice and go through their training.

“hoshina?” a voice asks in his in ear.

“yes captain?” he asks, his boots thumping the polished floors as he walks down the corridor.

he listens in to her concerns and to her comments. his day goes on like that, he doesn’t see much of you throughout the day, it’s always like that. he’s immersed in office work while you’re more immersed in hands on, physical work. his mind sometimes goes back to how you two met, that mission that made his heart skip a beat around you.

where you had to drive the team out. where you kept scaring the living shit out of everyone with your recklessness. where you kept getting scolded and had the audacity to drag him into it. where you had smiled at him and winked when he glared at you.

“boom!” you open the door to his office with a loud exclamation.

“how’d the mission go?” he asks, yet doesn’t look up at you.

“well sweetheart, grant me a pretty smile and i’ll let you know.”

he rolls his eyes before looking up at you. the papers in his hands go slack but he remains calm. “you’re hurt?”

you flash a grin at him. “i miss those days when you’d drop everything and run up to me to check where i’m hurt.” you sigh out nostalgically.

he rolls his eyes, “after years with you, sweetheart, i’m used to the sight of you injured.”

“eh? hoshina from yesterday wouldn’t have said that.”

he looks back up at you, “what are you talking about?”

“yesterday you ran up to me and kissed me.”

“yesterday you went radio silent mid fight.”

he tries to glare you down but your eyes are soft, and your lips wear a small smile. you’re looking at him so tenderly he almost melts. he sighs and stands up. he melts.

“come here you baby.” you say with wide arms.

“how about you come here?” he huffs.

“because i’m in so much pain!” you yell and drop dead to the floor.

“ah, honey, you’ll get my floors dirty.” he squats down next to you, eyeing your face as you grin up at him.

“just me?” you grin teasingly.

his eyes widen before falling back narrowed. he lightly pushes your face away in an act of annoyance. you turn your face back to him and as fast as he normally is, with you, he’s always slow. before he knows it he’s tackled to the floor.

“ah- y/n! aren’t you in pain?” he looks up at you, a smile on his lips.

“yeah, my knee just popped back in place i think.”

“eh-?” he frowns. he tries to look at your frame but your caging him underneath your body.

you smile smugly at him, a hand grazing over the side of his ribs. “see, i got stabbed here, with one of the kaiju’s spikes.” you trail your hand down to his knee, voice softening and lowering, “i got thrown across the street and dislocated my knee trying to hop off a platform to run up to it.”

he stares up at you, listening to your storytelling. he knows what you’re doing and as much as he hates it, he loves how his heart still races at your warm touch.

“then, i had to duck and i think i sprained my hamstrings,” your hand moves lower down his thigh and his breathing gets slightly shallow-

“a-am i interrupting?” okonogi asks at the door.

hoshina gasps, trying to shove you away. you laugh and pat his thigh before getting off of him.

“no dear, we were just talking.” you smile up at her.

“o-on the floor?”

you nod, smiling wickedly at the flush on hoshina’s cheeks. “i was telling the vice captain how the mission went.”

“oh! i brought the reports about it actually, since you asked for them,” she says, forgetting what she saw to hand you the folder.

you sit criss crossed and thank her. “well dear,” you say to hoshina, tapping his head with the folder as you easily get up from that sitting position, “you should get back to work, i was only here to see you and you attacked me.”

“eh?” okonogi tilts her head.

“ah, how bad of me to want to inspect your injuries, honey.” he grits.

“you can inspect all you want,” you grin, pulling him up to his feet.

“hope you get better platoon leader y/n!” okonogi says cheerfully, “good to see you vice captain,” she bows respectfully before leaving.

you watch her leave and close the door. you look away for a second before smiling, moving your sight to hoshina who’s glaring you down. ah, how cute! he’s so cute when he’s all grouchy! only you get the worst out of him.

“yah!” he yells as your hug him and bite down on his cheek. “GET OFF!”

“BUT YOU’RE SO CUTE, BABY! WHY SO POUTY?” you ask as you grab his face, folder long forgotten and on the floor now.

“because you always interrupt my work-“ he frowns as you squish his face. your grip is strong and he glares at you.

“how can i not when i love you so much?” you grin before kissing his entire face as he grunts. ah, you just wanna eat him up!

“i love you too- DON’T BITE ME!” he screams and you cackle.

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loversrockx0 · 2 months ago

Text

christopher sturniolo x singer reader

series | silence between songs 🎻🤍⭐️ part seven

yourusername lazing on a sunday

likes 8.3 m

user0 so effortless beautiful

nicolassturniolo presleyyyy aww i miss him

user77 whats going on between her and chris

| user6 idk but they still follow each other so thats good

larray yes momma

user100 counting down the days till sbs

| yourusername you and me both

user80 are you and chris good

christophersturniolo beautiful girl

| liked by author

yourusername SILENCE BETWEEN SONGS TARCKLIST REVEAL🤍 3/6!!!! PRE SAVE IN BIO!!!!!

likes 15m

christophersturniolo 🤍proudest bf ever

| yourusername 🤍

user9 YAY THERE STILL TOGETHER

user8 i already know at your worst is going to hurt

larray im so so soo excited

nicolassturniolo im so excited but so much more proud

user44 FINALLYYYYY

user3 king of everything is going to be my fave i already know it

yourusername 🌾 silence between songs 🌾 official cover art and track !!!!!! yours on 3/6!!!!!

likes 9m

i don’t know what comments to make 😭

writers note

i know this doesn’t really make sense don’t even talk about it

tags - @chrepsi

#౨ৎ ˚⋆｡˚ ⋆#sturniolo imagine #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris x y/n #chris x reader #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #matthew sturniolo

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derww · 5 months ago

Text

have you ever read a fanfic where authors self-insert travels into some story and fixes the life of a sad and pathetic wet cat character? | some thoughts about several new members being lifesteal watchers before joining.

one thing ive been thinking alot lately. before s5 we didn't really have a moment of "oh, this new member has been watching lifesteal before joining". and even in s5, its almost like this is not that important because here we have, to a much greater extent, people whose metagame-luggage is in the fact that they knew lifestealers. as 4c having his friendship and silly feuds with mid, and jumper being really close vi's friend, and pentar being jumper's friend, and squiddo knowing ash for ages, and wemmbu being friends with zam&minute for like an eternity. even jepexx with all his ive literally founded this server, hes an irl friends with mapicc and poafa, I literally remember one time when he came in the middle of the lore and mapicc had to bribe poafa to distract him. and it is a really cool and interesting theme as its own, a great foundation for the different headcanons and aus and using it as a part of the dynamics, but nothing of what we've been searching, yeah?

wrong. minutetech. minutetech who was clowns fan and literally created a team clown would want to be – his actual character's basis has watching lifesteal in it, and his weird attitude towards clown drags on throughout the season, ending with his death. but hey, it's been more than that, not just watching videos, he was watching streams, he was a visitor in the zams chat. and watching streams, even in fragments, is a completely different level in regard to just watching videos. and it is obvious by how he speaks about zam and how he is inspired by past him, and how he remembers some specific parts. minutetech is the fanboy on the server, im sorry, and i love him for it. he wasnt a frequent visitor, but he was able to open the curtain and be impressed, and that's cool.

moving away from the relatively linear rookie roster of the season 5, the season 6 one if a fucking rolecoaster. okay, okay, lets start with something easier. hannah defo didnt get the memo, zero idea about sb but i think he watched atleast clown, e doesnt seem to really care, his thing is the reverse, his connection to bliss and how they showed themselves as both touching and deadly family, threatening pentar with knives in case he did not protect their boy, and chief does it s5-style, being friends with minute. its really hard to consider flame, he defo watched atleast part of the things, and he is friends with pentajumper, and he refers to the past seasons but misses out a lot and doesnt seem to have a consistent understanding of a context.

okay. manepear. his case is kinda close with minute's in a part that he actually was a big lifesteal and esp clown's fan. never saw that one fanart he drew for zam but really would like to. lifesteal was an important thing for him much before he actually joined, and i can see him having good ground knowledge of video-part of the server, albeit easily missing something really important. hes also friends with pentajumper and had his clown rivalry story on bizzare just before lifesteal, giving him an interesting starting point and explaining why he did betray his idol of the past so easily. making him vodwatch s4 eclipse would make him better in lifestealing i promise. he just needs to find a balance.

to the main course. lets speak about kab first. this is a part where shit gets actually interesting since. you know...

("Powerless", 03/29/23)

oh, hi, Derapchu.

(literally the betrayal stream 03/28/23)

wait, lets make a pause. look, its Fl4pp0!

(also the betrayal stream)

the one who made new lifesteal stickers! wow! absolutely nothing interesting about them aside from thi-

okay. let's digress from the topic for a bit – it will make sense later, I promise. you know showtime smp? its fine if you dont.

the important part you should know is that showtime aknowledges stream viewers as an important part of a plot. they are called the audience, and how interested they are in a particular character is directly responsible for their well-being. most of the characters know that they are being watched, and some even hear the voices of the audience, and sometimes they are even asked questions, the answers to which can have a real impact on what is happening. and here is mika flappo. yes, this flappo, from the chat. (fun fact, there was also atleast two other showtime members lol)

firstly he is just a really cool fanarter in the showtime fandom, and she enjoys the streams and the plot as we all do, and then it... then they are just HERE.

just imagine. you live your very fucking hard and terrible life, having to deal with all sorts of shit and somehow not lose your head, and you hide so, so fucking much from everyone, because they can't know, because it's so scary and dangerous. and then you meet someone for the first time, and the first fucking thing they say to you is "oh, its YOU". and they do know what you did.

they were a part of the audience because mika has been literally watching the streams all this time. and yeah, she doesnt know everything, only the parts gods chose to show to the viewers, and they actually watched live, but its still sooo fucking much. and now an absolute stranger is walking around the server, and they know your worst secrets and impute you for your sins. luckily, mika can't spoil things, so its not like he can actually tell anyone, but her existence by itself is still pretty fucking terrifying.

luckily, both kab and derap are not just some strangers, but also they don't have to keep their mouths shut. they know what only the audience knows, and for them it becomes an important part of their understanding of the world and zam, something that they can use to their advantage. and they do.

kab heavily relies on a feeling of understanding and knowing better, and sometimes for me it feels like shes trying to do it even speaking about zam's feelings. at some point shes been heavily relying on pitying him as a way to show that she understands, and she's sorry, and she knows what exactly zam has to change to be better. its like... being the chatter who always backseats, but now you are actually here. absolutely no neg to kab, obviously.

its actually interesting how kab simultaneously sees and knows (or thinks she knows) so many zams weak spots and problems and traumas and calls him broken and harming himself and almost as if unable to make the right decisions for himself, and at the same time she puts him on a pedestal, perceiving him as a hero, as someone who should adhere to the correct perception and reflect her idea of a good person and teammate. and... it makes sense as a way of wanting to help your favorite anime character to become better without actually understanding either them or their beliefs and wishes and just trying to recreate the picture from my head of how things have to be, depriving a character of personality and autonomy in the process. even her expecting him to help her with the karmas law – she thinks that this idea is objectively right, so obviously white knight (lol) princezam has to get it.

people really liked her asking if she reminds him of someone he once was. i really do not. because sure, shes right at the ground lvl, but she doesnt get it. shes not s5, shes s4. she is vi and zam at the same time, and it makes my head hurt. "not everything is about you, zam", but she does make everything about him, really. i wonder if he was her favorite character.

i like that sometimes she acknowledges that she doesnt actually know better than anyone else. that she is just scared because her methods doesnt work anymore. but she speaks the opposite so often that sometimes i just dont know what she really thinks. with her strange division into lore and non-lore, with how much kab lies to people and lies to herself, she remains frustrating. sometimes I have a feeling that she plays a completely different character than the one she ends up being, and hey, that's part of the server.

some of it can be said about derapchu, and its easy to say that hes better than kab, but i dont really think so. hes less pushy about it, surely, but he also thinks he knows how itd be better for zam and intends to make him change in a way he deems correct. sure, he doesnt idolize or pity him, but he still wants to fix zam.

its not that easy as just dividing things on yours and servers because zam has a connection to it, and the server's well-being is directly connected to his. with enough mental gymnastics, even the desire to repair the spawn can be called at least partially selfish since zam does it for himself too, since he loves things being pretty and cool. speaking of the server as a whole, it is difficult to draw a line between where he does something for himself and where he does something only for others with just how conditional the common good is and how important the server itself is to him, just alive, just working, just being played. he wanted to make everyone give a shit and never fully left this modus.

and in a sense, derapchu fails. as gapples being for the fights against mane, or considering that zam perceives the hearts in a similar way as he does (and he really isnt, our guy was giving out the hearts left and right, really, and he knows derap enough to be sure he wouldnt do anything malicious), or seemingly never noticing that zam, despite being mostly truthful during the whole dialogue, never actually opened up to him. maybe his common experience and zam trusting him makes him feel like it is enough, but its barely a half. he said sorry for being too pushy today tho. and helped zam just because. it was good. sadly its not enough to understand that he cant just choose whats better for the other person.

you know, i really like to think about having all this background of being a lifesteal watcher from the point of the full-blown lore, without pulling out the card that the characters are also streamers or youtubers. this is a part that requires an individual approach: for example, i have drafts where boomie and kab, as centrals, contact their lifesteal friends directly through hacked communicators. or, for example, clown is known because the coolness of his conquests spread into legends, caught everyone's eye, and became worldwide news. in general, you can just come up with a connection between the worlds, like fidonet, or even a more modern Internet, and this will make everything much better. or you can follow the showtime trail and give each character an audience – similar to just making them streamers, but that's the twist that makes just enough of a difference. and, in the end, people can just be friends, meet in their free time, and tell stories. both derapchu and kab were zams friends long before joining the server, and this is something that should not be forgotten either. they, unlike the rest of us, have a real context. and, like, wow.

overall: these aussies gotta understand that zam is not their pet project and that he doesnt need to be fixed. some help here and there wouldnt be bad, sure, but they cant just choose whats right for him and whats not. he is, in this context, his own person and not just a book character and he needs a friend, but not saviour nor doctor nor manipulator nor mechanic. just a friend.

#d.thoughts #lifesteal spoilers #do not pretend to be completely reliable lol #on this note. i dont really feel comfortable about them being like that but i do love them being zams teammates and friends.#i hope that things will change because i cant really analyze something that makes me so uncomfortable

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gyumibear · 4 months ago

Text

⩩ ‎‎Tomorrow X Together ‎‎‎‎

⠀⠀ ⠀📄 Choi Yeonjun

❝ denial ❞ — oneshot / angst

“after finding out that he cheated on you, you break up with yeonjun. you feel so alone, but you always have someone in your corner.”

❝ scavenger hunt: valentine's edition ❞ — smau / fluff

"your boyfriend has an interesting proposition for you: this valentine's day he wants you to go on a scavenger hunt. what's the reward for winning? yeonjun says you'll just have to find out.."

⠀⠀ ⠀📄 Choi Soobin

❝ three’s a crowd ❞ smau series / strangers to lovers

“being an ex-obsessed fan is hard, but you’ve been doing well so far. that is until your rival is revealed to be dating the idol you’ve been dreaming of for years. you’re simply not going to let that slide.” | DISCONTINUED

❝ into you ❞ — oneshot / songfic

“based off of still into you - paramore, moments of you and soobin’s relationship from childhood friends to lovers.”

❝ going public ❞ — smau / idol au

“soobin and 6th member!reader go public with their relationship without company approval…” | PART TWO

❝ underneath the tree ❞ — oneshot / fluff

"christmas with your idol boyfriend."

⠀⠀ ⠀📄 Choi Beomgyu

❝ create a sim(p)! ❞ — smau series / fake dating

“after stupidly claiming that you’ve been dating popular youtuber choi beomgyu in secret after accidentally creating an identically looking sim, you beg him not to reveal your lie to the public. weirdly, he agrees and you two begin to fool the public. can your lie become the truth or will it eventually catch up with you?” | COMPLETE

❝ going public ❞ — smau / idol au

“beomgyu and 6th member!reader requesting to go public with their relationship!”

⠀⠀ ⠀📄 Kang Taehyun

❝ love delivery! ❞ — smau series / strangers to lovers

“taehyun orders pizza like clockwork: same time, same order, same day, same delivery man… but wait, this isn’t the same delivery person? and why is some of his pizza missing!? enter reader, an unpaid delivery person that’s about to shake up taehyun’s life.” | DISCONTINUED

⠀⠀ ⠀📄 Huening Kai

...none yet!

⠀⠀ ⠀⩩ OT5

❝ txt as doordash texts ❞ — text chats

“txt as funny text messages from doordash and ubereats.” PART TWO | PART THREE

❝ txt as fool’s errand texts ❞ — text chats

“boyfriend!txt being asked to complete an impossible task + how they react to the prank.”

❝ txt as texts from my besties ❞ — text chats

“txt as text messages from my best friends / my trio groupchat.”

❝ txt when you see your enemy ❞ — text chats

“txt when they get text messages from their s/o who saw someone they both don’t like.”

❝ bf! txt vs rude fans ❞ — text chats

“txt as boyfriends defending their s/o from delusional fans.”

❝ would you still love me if... ❞ — text chats

“txt as boyfriends asking their s/o if they'd still love them in various ways.”

❝ falling out of love texts ❞ — text chats

“txt as boyfriends slowly falling out of love with their s/o.” YJ | SB | BG | TH | HK

❝ assorted text messages ❞ — text chats

“txt as various random text messages with the reader.”

❝ real down bad texts ❞ — text chats

“txt as various text messages of them being desperate for the reader’s love.” PART TWO | PART THREE

❝ late night texts ❞ — text chats

“txt as various late night messages they send to their s/o!”

❝ dog parents ❞ — text chats

“txt as dog parents with their s/o!”

❝ pay for my nails? ❞ — text chats

“reader asks boyfriend txt to pay for her nails.”

❝ when they miss you ❞ — text chats

“how boyfriend txt show they miss you.”

last updated: 03.12.25

⩩ back to navigation?

#tomorrow x together #txt imagines #txt x reader #choi soobin #choi yeonjun #choi beomgyu #kang taehyun #hueningkai #txt masterlist

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zepskies · 2 years ago

Text

Break Me Down - Part 14

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Female Reader

Summary: You’re a private investigator by trade, but now you happily sit at a desk — leading a surveillance team at Supe Affairs. After managing to end Homelander in New York, Soldier Boy escapes custody. You are recruited for the manhunt, joining Butcher’s team.

Truly, you joined the S.A. for the right reasons. But after you become his accidental hostage, Soldier Boy will break down every single one of them…

💚 Break Me Down Masterlist

AN: Stick around at the end for a special note — new SB fic dropping soon!

Word Count: 6,000

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! We return to the smut! Plus a healthy dose of fluff, angst, action, moral quandaries, and feels.

Part 14: Safe House

Jon lied in his hospital bed, frowning hard at a computer screen. His arm and collarbone were broken, along with a few ribs. He had a private room, at least, courtesy of Vought.

Stan Edgar strode in following a quick knock on the door.

“Hello, Jonathan. I meant to visit you earlier,” said Stan. Jon stared at his boss, silently simmering. On his laptop played footage of the destruction wrought on the Lower West Side by a major car chase.

“How are you feeling?” Stan asked.

“Why was Black Noir set loose on my wife and daughters?” he seethed through gritted teeth. Damn how the effort of keeping still was almost as painful as moving.

“Ex-wife, isn’t it?” Stan said, raising a brow.

Jon was not amused.

“I gave the order, yes,” Stan acknowledged. “On your eldest daughter.”

Jon was incensed. If he could get out of this bed, he’d very well contemplate strangling the other man. Stan seemed to know it, but considering his personal security guards were standing near the back wall of the hospital room, he also didn’t look worried.

“Why?” Jon asked, genuinely surprised and dismayed. “She’s not a threat.”

“Soldier Boy kept her for a reason,” Stan pointed out. “She brought him to our doorstep, with the intention of helping him assassinate me…eliminating her was a calculated risk.”

Jon shook his head.

“But since Noir has failed, we will have to prepare accordingly,” Stan said.

Jon glared back at him. “You think I’m going to help you?”

“I think you have a job to do,” Stan returned. “It didn’t stop you from breaking your daughter’s ribs, and very nearly her neck.”

Jon faltered, a brief regret weighing his frown.

“That wasn’t…that was to teach her a lesson.”

Perhaps he’d gone a bit too far, but he’d only been trying to subdue you. To get you to listen to him. But you’d always been stubborn.

Stan broke him from his thoughts.

“I am not being attacked, Jon,” he said. “We are. Your daughter is a part of it.”

“Marie and Luisa are not. Leave them out of this!”

Stan merely rose a brow. He folded his hands behind his back and withdrew. He was flanked by his bodyguards as he left the room.

“Rest up, Jonathan,” he said. “I’ll need you soon enough.”

The master bed was actually pretty comfortable, as you and Ben found out.

You clung onto his shoulders after both of you were spent. You panted for breath as he held you to him with his solid arms wrapped around your waist. You two were both kneeling, technically, in the middle of the bed.

Your thighs were molded to his hips, and he was still buried deep inside you. But as of yet, you had no reason to move. You were enjoying your vantage point above him, watching him collect himself with closed eyes.

The simple truth of it was, you’d missed him.

Even when he was being a stubborn pain in the ass, you hated every moment you had to watch him caged, watching him start to think he may never get out.

Your hands slid around to his back. It allowed you to hold him in more of an embrace as you caught your breath.

When his eyes opened, you met him with a smile. You slipped your fingers through his sweaty hair. Holding your free hand at the nape of his neck, you pressed your lips above his brow. Then another kiss to his scratchy cheek. His beard had gotten overgrown.

“You need a trim,” you said, letting out a breathy laugh. You kissed his cheek again. Slow, and with purpose.

Ben let out a sigh through his nose. His eyes closed again at your gentler kisses, your touch. Maybe he reveled in this—being able to hold you back. It felt right.

If he was honest with himself (and this time, he was), you were somehow able to ease the frayed edges of his mind. Edges that had been starting to unravel in that cell.

And there were other things too, that he was beginning to realize, but not yet willing to cement in his mind.

So you reluctantly detangled from one another, but remained in bed. The problem was, for whatever closeness you two had just shared…you weren’t quite sure what to do now.

You hesitated to ask him just what the two of you were doing. Mostly because you didn’t want to ruin whatever this was by labeling it.

So instead, you relaxed against his chest and pulled the blankets over you both. Ben didn’t just tolerate it; he settled a heavy arm across your lower back and over your hip. It made you smile.

“Ben…what do you want from the rest of your life?” you asked.

You didn’t know what possessed you to ask, but you had to wonder what the end goal was for him, after the issue of Vought was settled. After he presumably kept his end of the deal and retired to South America, or Europe, or wherever he wanted to go, really.

His hand came up to pet your hair. “I just got some of it.”

You huffed a laugh, hiding your face into his chest for a moment. You couldn’t see it, but Ben grinned at how easy it was to embarrass you, for how wanton he knew you could be.

“Come on, seriously,” you said.

“Seriously?” he teased.

“Yes,” you said, despite a giggle.

He let out something of a sigh. Meanwhile, his hand drew lazy patterns up and down your naked back.

“I always thought I had time,” he confessed. “To settle down. Have a family…I actually thought it would be Tess.”

That thought was accompanied by a bitter chuckle. Your brows furrowed in question.

“Crimson Countess,” he explained.

“Ah.” You nodded and rested a hand across his lower abs, playing with the thin trail of hair there that led south. He found it strangely soothing, if a hint arousing.

“Was it difficult killing Homelander?” you asked.

Ben scoffed. “Just chock full of questions tonight, aren’t you?”

You sat up and propped an elbow on his shoulder, so he had to look at you.

“Not physically. Emotionally,” you said. God forbid you ask him about his man feelings, but you really were curious.

Ben eyed you with a raised brow.

“I know he wasn’t really your son,” you said. “He was a raging psychopath and needed to go down, but was there a part of you that…was it hard for you?”

Ben’s mood dimmed as his lips pulled into a frown. “He was a true disappointment. Barely a man.”

That didn’t quite answer your question, but you thought you could read some of his true feelings on the matter. You didn’t think he regretted killing Homelander. But maybe he mourned the connection he could’ve had with a son. From what he’d said about Crimson Countess, you knew he wanted a real family.

That softened you. You brushed a lock of hair away from his eyes with delicate fingers.

“He was told he was a god his entire life. That’s what happens,” you said.

Ben scoffed at that, his gaze cutting away from you. You didn’t know what that meant exactly.

“And you?” he asked, turning back to you. “What do you want from all this?”

“Besides my family safe?” you retorted. But then, you considered his words. “I don’t know. I thought I knew who I was before I met you. Now I’m realizing that I can’t control anything in my life.”

Ben raised your chin, and therefore your face up to him.

“You can control you. You’ve been doing that since I met you.” His thumb swiped against your lower lip. “Especially this fucking mouth.”

You smiled. “But you like that though.”

His lips pulled at amusement, huffing in response.

“Come on,” you teased. You moved, slipping a leg over to straddle his lap. You delved into his hair with both hands, and he let you tug his head back as he now looked up at you.

“Admit it,” you said cheekily. “You like my mouth. Talking back to you…on you…and getting you off.”

All while you spoke, you brushed your lips across his cheek, down his jawline, pressed a nipping kiss along his neck, below his ear. Then you returned to his lips. But you also ground down into his lap, feeling his rising length brush against your wet folds.

He groaned deep as you plied him the way you’d learned to do. And your tongue slipped into his mouth with your next kiss. He gripped your hips tight, wordlessly urging you to lower down into his lap and onto his waiting cock. But you resisted.

“Say it,” you demanded.

When he merely smirked, denying you control, you lowered a hand to take a firm hold of his cock. He let out a low hum of pleasure as you pumped him a couple of times, then held him poised at your entrance.

“I’ll give you what you want,” you said, brushing his lips. “But first, tell me how much you missed this.”

His next breath came out sharp as you squeezed his cock in your hand. You knew you’d find his fingerprints on your hips and ass in the morning, but you didn’t care. Because you were about to fucking win.

“Fine,” he said, through clenched teeth. “Maybe I’ve been craving this, more than a fix. More than goddamn sleep.”

Ben’s eyes were dark with lust, and he thumbed at your lower lip.

“And this fucking mouth. Gets you into all kinds of trouble, baby doll.”

You smirked and finally sunk on top of him. His cock slid past your folds and bottomed out inside of you, making you shudder and Ben groan in relief.

You did exactly as you promised. With your hands braced on his shoulders, you moved over him nice and slow.

Well, nice for you. Torturous for him.

He cast his head back to the headboard as he fought not to make you move.

“You’re fuckin’ killing me here,” he growled.

Your mouth curved into a grin.

“Alert the media,” you said. “We’ve got the ultimate weapon against Soldier Boy: a slow ride on his dick.”

Ben’s rich laugh rumbled out, crinkling his eyes at the corners and making you smile. You felt the impact of his laughter deep inside you, which wasn’t unpleasant. But you had mercy on him and finally picked up the pace. He grabbed a fistful of your hair for leverage while your lovely tits bounced in his face.

Then his fingers slid between you, parting your folds to rub at your clit. It made your hips stutter as you let out a mangled moan. Your inner walls started to tighten around him, earning you another muttered curse. He couldn’t help but thrust up inside you, mostly in time with your movements.

But he got impatient.

He grabbed your hips tighter and flipped you over, with your thighs wrapped around his hips.

“The moment I saw you, I knew I’d have you,” he gritted out. “Fuck, just like this.”

You gasped as he pounded deeper inside you. You felt like the bed was going to swallow you up. But you pressed your heels into his lower back and held on for the rest of the ride.

Within moments, Ben spilled into you so hard and fast that it took both of you by surprise. It felt hot and tingling inside you, making you shudder again.

Thank God for IUDs, you thought.

And when his fingers found your clit again in time with his last wild thrusts, it was enough to tumble you over along with him.

Afterwards, Ben braced himself on the headboard as a line of sweat dripped down the column of his neck. You grabbed onto his free hand while you caught your breath. His lips tugged at a smirk, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand.

“And we’re not done,” he said. “Not by a long shot.”

Ben woke to the annoying sound of coffee percolating. A normal man would have slept right through it, but thanks to his sensitive ears, he was up at…

Christ, it’s 11 in the morning. He noted the digital clock on the nightstand and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He actually slept all night. And all morning.

Up until recently, that had been impossible.

He heard puttering in the kitchen, knew it was you because of your soft humming. It drew a smile to his face without him realizing.

He climbed out of bed, showered, shaved and trimmed off the wilder parts of his beard, and dressed casually with the clothing he found in the closet. Wasn’t a perfect fit, but it would do for now.

This house was also not what he was used to. It was small, and too “suburban dad” for his taste. But he guessed it was better than an underground glass prison cell.

He ventured into the kitchen, where the smell of good food made his mouth water, and the sight of you frying bacon (trying not to get burned by the sparking grease) deepened his grin.

All you wore was his discarded shirt from yesterday, presumably over your underwear as it hung around your thighs, and a pair of slippers you must’ve found in the closet.

Maybe you heard him coming, because you glanced back over your shoulder and met him with a smile. But it soon edged into a more serious look as you turned and leveled him with your spatula.

“Okay. I don’t want any smartass remarks,” you warned. “I did make breakfast, because I’m a nice person, but don’t expect this for every meal.”

Ben raised a wry brow.

“Morning to you too,” he drawled. He rested a hand on your lower back as he looked over your shoulder, surveying the plate of cooling bacon, the pan of scrambled eggs, and the toast ready to be buttered on the counter, next to a jar of strawberry jam. “Looks good.”

You watched him steal a piece of bacon, your lips quirking.

“Is that a thank you?” you asked.

He purposefully bit into the bacon instead of answering. You gave him a narrowed look, but you were still amused.

“Even a child can say please and thank you,” you pointed out.

Ben turned to you then and hooked an arm around your waist, suddenly pulling you tight against him.

“All right. How about this?” he replied. His head bowed and kissed you thoroughly. He tasted coffee and jam on your tongue. A surprised moan caught in your throat, and you clung to his arms on instinct. Meanwhile, his other hand went to your hip, bunching the material of the stolen shirt.

When he broke from you, he looked down on your somewhat dazed expression and had to temper his smile. He gave you a nice slap on the ass, shocking a yelp out of you.

You shot him a dry look.

“Is that please, or thank you?” you teased.

Ben rolled his eyes and kissed you again, trapping you against the counter this time. But he didn’t allow himself to get carried away (yet). He swept back strands of your hair and let his fingers skim across your cheek, feeling your skin warming under his touch.

He finally settled on brushing his thumb across your bottom lip, meeting your eyes.

“Thank you,” he said.

It had a deeper meaning, you realized from the gravity of his gaze.

“That fucking bitch probably wanted to put me on ice the second they brought me in,” he said.

You could only assume he meant Grace.

“You’re probably the reason that didn’t happen,” he continued. “And that I’m here now.”

Emotion threatened to choke you, beginning to sting your eyes. You cleared your throat and soothed a hand along his forearm.

“You made the deal,” you pointed out. Ben shook his head.

“You were right. I want the fucking target off my back, once and for all,” he said. He touched where a smattering of bruises from the car accident colored your temple and part of your cheek with fading purple and yellow.

“But I’m getting it off you too," he said gruffly. "You want a deal? Here it is: no one’s fucking touching you again as long as I’m around.”

Your breath hitched as your heart began to hammer in your chest. You wanted to ask what that meant. You wanted to ask if, maybe, he wanted to be with you. If he…

But you lost your nerve.

“The eggs are gonna get cold,” you said in a coarse whisper.

Ben smirked.

“That’s really what you’re fucking worried about?” he asked, shortly before he cut off your would-be reply with a heated kiss.

Your arms twined around his neck, almost of their own volition. He already had you by the waist, and from there he hefted you effortlessly onto a small clean portion of counter space in the kitchen. His hands burned up your thighs, underneath the overlarge shirt. When he encountered nothing but bare ass, his lips curved against yours.

“What a naughty girl. You’re out here cooking with no fucking panties on?”

It was your turn to smirk as you held a hand to his cheek. He did in fact trim the beard.

“You like that, don’t you?” you remarked.

His dark chuckle was your answer as he spread your thighs wider. Your breath came out a bit shakier as his hand went smoothly up the inside of your thigh and slipped between your folds.

“Already wet for me, I see,” he said. His smirk only grew as you whined with pleasure at the invasion of his fingers. First just teasing inside your entrance, working you up. Your grip on his neck tightened, your nails digging into his shoulders.

“Ben…”

“How many fucking times I gotta tell you to be patient?”

“Ugh.” You dropped your forehead into the crook of his neck. “You are the worst.”

His resulting chuckle reverberated in your chest and tingled down into your lower belly. Combined with his teasing, it made your inner walls tighten on nothing from anticipation…until two of his fingers suddenly sunk deep into your heat. You cried out into his ear in surprise.

“Ben,” you breathed, but it ended on a moan as he finally began to give you what you wanted. His thumb found your clit and circled slowly while he thrust and turned his fingers inside you. You gripped at his hair, holding on tighter and tighter as your walls clenched on his hand.

“That’s it, baby doll. I gotcha,” he muttered. Though you teased a grunt out of him when you snaked a hand between you to palm at the bulge in his jeans. If he was going to give you a good morning, you’d be sure to return the favor.

He kept working on you, but with shaking hands you unzipped his pants and aimed to free him from those tight boxer briefs.

Unfortunately, your cell phone ringing halted both of your plans. It was on the kitchen counter, and it vibrated across the tile next to you.

Butcher calling…

Both of your heavy breathing accompanied the shrill sound. But when you noticed the caller ID, you gave Ben a rueful look.

He frowned in annoyance, but he withdrew from you, wiping his hands on a kitchen towel before he grabbed your phone and answered it (even if it took him two or three angry tries on swiping the green button). You put it on speaker.

“What?” Ben grouched into the phone.

“Apologies for interrupting what I’m sure is a dewy morning after,” Butcher said with all due sarcasm. “We’ve got a lead on Neuman.”

You raised a brow at that. Tugging down your shirt back over your thighs, you answered, “Where is she?”

“She’s giving a speech at NYU this afternoon.”

You frowned. You knew for a fact he hadn’t run that by the whole team.

“It’s not a good idea to catch her there. Too exposed. Too many people could get caught in the crossfire,” you said.

“Her next scheduled outing is a fundraiser for the homeless. That any better?” Butcher asked with mock cheer. “At the least the college kiddos won’t be coughing up a lung because their hepatitis A’s on a flare up.”

Ben’s lips twitched at amusement, but your frown only deepened in irritation.

“You’re unsavory, you know that?” you said, rubbing at your temple. “…Fine. We’ll catch her at the college.”

“Wasn’t really up for fuckin’ debate,” Butcher replied. “We head out in two hours.”

This isn’t going to be easy, you thought.

You were teamed up with M.M., Annie, and Hughie on surveillance, sitting in Frenchie’s van on one of the side streets outside the auditorium where Victoria Neuman was giving her speech.

Kimiko and Frenchie had formed a perimeter with Butcher on the campus. After the speech came to a close, Butcher, M.M., and Frenchie had worked out where Victoria would likely be escorted out to get back to her limo.

But you forced yourself to take deep breaths. You watched the various camera angles you and M.M. had been able to hook up to the monitors inside the van. On one of the screens was Ben in his full Soldier Boy gear, sans helmet, waiting for his cue.

You felt M.M. glancing at you, and you met his stare. His expression was tight, but mostly stoic. Still, you had a feeling you knew what he was thinking.

“He can do this,” you said.

M.M. shook his head and faced the screens. “You think you can fucking change him.”

“No,” you said. “But he just might surprise you.”

You weren’t trying to change him, nor were you trying to free yourself anymore. He’d caught you, in more ways than one.

Now, you were just trying to help him. And maybe, help yourself.

“I don’t give a fuck,” M.M. bit out. Annie and Hughie glanced at both of you in thinly veiled concern. You just quirked a humorless smile.

“I think you do,” you replied.

“All right, look alive,” Butcher said on the comm. Victoria’s speech was over. She was shepherded off the stage by her bodyguards while the president of NYU got up to make closing remarks.

She got as far as the hallway leading to the back door of the auditorium before Frenchie and Butcher sniped out her guards. You watched Victoria gasp and flinch at the bullets flying all too close to her. She looked around sharply, but finding no one there, she made a run for the exit.

That was when Ben ambushed her from the side, grabbing her from behind and shoving her through the door of the next room before she could aim her gaze at any part of him.

Ben stalked in after her. You adjusted the camera monitors to connect to the science lab they’d burst into. Every muscle in your body tensed as you watched.

Meanwhile, Ben was wary but not afraid as he kept his shield in front of his face. Victoria raised a hand to a her now bruised arm, but she scrambled in her navy pencil dress and heels to pick herself up.

She looked up at the supe striding toward her, taking in his head protecting his upper body. So she focused her gaze on his right thigh, making him falter as her power made her eyes roll into her head and blast at his suit.

The skin underneath was durable though. It felt like a nasty sunburn, one that Ben could ignore. He approached until he could grab her by the hair and turn her face away from him. She cried out, clawing back at his hand.

He placed his shield onto the holster on his back and got a hold on the back of her neck. He forced her onto her knees while he made her keep looking at the ground.

“Soldier Boy,” she panted. “Haven’t had the pleasure.”

“Cut the fucking chit-chat. Where the fuck is Stan, that dick tease?”

He was about to start squeezing his grip, when he was suddenly thrown into the far wall. He fell into a mess of student desks, beakers, and various scientific instruments.

“Zoe!” he heard Victoria shout. Apparently the woman’s daughter was a supe too. A telekinetic, by the looks of it.

With an angry growl, he picked himself up and shook off the glass from his shoulders. By the time he looked up, Victoria was ushering her daughter out the opposite door.

Ben ran after them, following them into what seemed to be another classroom. This one was full of students busy taking a test, and a professor grading a large stack of papers. Ben zipped through and ignored the gasps and shocked faces, along with a couple of kids that recognized him and immediately took out their phones.

He also didn’t care that his elbow knocked the stack of papers to the ground (to the professor’s outrage).

He bulldozed his way into another empty classroom, where he threw his shield at Victoria’s back. With a cry, she tripped and fell into a desk, and was separated from her daughter.

“Mom!” Zoe cried and reached out for her, but Victoria raised a frantic hand.

“Stay there!” she shouted back at her. Her attention focused back on Ben.

She razed at his face and chest with her powers. Ben winced as heat flared across his skin, blistering to the point of second-degree burns on his arm after protecting his face. He strode forward and grabbed her again, this time with a thumb pressing over one eye.

“You wanna keep your fucking eyes, or you want to tell me where your father is?” he demanded.

“No!” Zoe shouted. She raised her hands, and a violet glow of energy spread between them. Ben picked up his shield, ready to use it as a projectile against the girl.

Until your voice sounded in the comm in his ear.

“Go easy, Ben. She’s not the target,” you warned. He hesitated, his lips twisting in annoyance.

“Zoe,” Victoria warned. His thumb still pressed threateningly against one of her eyes. The other looked up at him, defiant. But her lower lip was trembling.

“You really want your daughter to be a part of this?” Ben asked darkly.

You were on pins and needles. While you watched the screen, M.M. glanced at you.

“We need to do something,” Annie said. She had been antsy the entire time, and when Hughie tried to grab her shoulder, she shrugged him off.

“We can’t extract the girl without Neuman seeing us,” you said. But you weren’t happy about it.

Annie gave you an incredulous look. “So you’re okay with that psycho killing a little girl?”

“Of course not, Annie!” you snapped. “But this is the reality of catching criminals. They rarely go down by themselves.”

She frowned angrily at you.

“That sounds like an excuse for murder,” she said.

There was a tense moment, in which you and Annie stared back at one another. You eventually relented.

“Okay, go. But stay on standby with Kimiko and Frenchie. They’re outside the classroom, 112B,” you told her. She and Hughie raced out, and you let out a breath while you turned back to the tense scene in front of you.

“Look, I don’t know where he is,” Victoria said. “We haven’t exactly been on speaking terms.”

“Then get him on the fucking phone,” Ben snapped.

A tear streamed down her eye, the one that briefly closed, then looked up at him.

“He’s not a bad man,” she said. “Not…entirely.”

Ben snorted in response. “Well, aside from trying to replace me with a bullshit knockoff, shipping me off to motherfucking Siberia. He stole from me. My life. And the bitch of the whole bunch, tried to kill me with a fucking clone, with the help of my own DNA. So excuse me if I’m past the fucking point of forgive and forget.”

“Fine! Fine,” she said, when he started squeezing in earnest. “Let my daughter go, and I’ll help you.”

Ben glanced up at the girl. She was frightened, with her glowing hands still poised to try and take him out. He still had half a mind to knock her out first.

“She’s just a kid, Ben. Let her go,” you said in his ear.

After another tense moment, Ben nodded.

Annie burst into the classroom, followed by Butcher, Frenchie, and Kimiko. Annie reached Zoe with a gentle hand on her shoulder, and she shared a look with Victoria.

“She’ll be okay,” Annie told Victoria, who nodded as more tears slipped down her cheeks. Ben held her firm by the shoulders when Butcher came with a device, no doubt provided by the CIA. It looked like a large metal band that clicked into place around Victoria’s head, covering her eyes.

Kimiko and Frenchie led her out, while Annie and Hughie did the same for Zoe. Butcher shared an appraising look with Ben, who stared back at him coolly.

Meanwhile, you let out a deep breath. You sat back in your seat and ignored the way M.M. gave you some cursory side-eye.

Thank Christ that’s over.

Back at Supe Affairs, Victoria gave them addresses to her adoptive father’s known safehouses. Not because they expected to find him there, but because they might find even more material to leverage against him before they attempted to arrest the man.

While Butcher and the rest of the team ran down the leads, you and Annie made sure Victoria’s daughter Zoe was put in protective custody, again, with Grace’s help.

Afterwards, Ben was waiting for you in the car that would bring you both back to the safe house. You rode there in silence.

When you got inside the house and made your way to the bedroom, Ben followed you. It seemed he couldn’t help himself. His arms were crossed, and his face was tight. You waited on him to speak as you started rummaging in the dresser for a shirt and pair of jeans to change into after a shower.

“I don’t need you yapping in my ear when I’m trying to get shit done,” he said.

You paused in your search, and you turned to him, raising an incredulous brow.

“I wasn’t sure if you were going to stick to the plan. Targeted kills only, remember? Zoe wasn’t the target.”

His frown soured. “She hit me first.”

You stared back at him. Then you raised your eyes heavenward, praying for strength. And you let out a breath.

“She was trying to help her mother, Ben.”

“If you’re grown enough to throw a punch, you’re grown enough to take one,” he argued.

“You’ve never hit me once,” you pointed out. “Is it different because she’s a supe? Were you really going to kill a child?”

“I never said that,” he said, glaring at you.

“Would you have killed Ryan too?” you asked.

Ben expelled a sigh of exasperation. “Would you shut up already?”

“No,” you refused. And you followed him into the living room when he stormed out. “You’re not going to weasel your way out of this. Would you have killed Ryan?”

“I don’t know,” he snapped. “He was Homelander’s fucking kid.”

“And that makes it all right?”

“Yeah, are you gonna say that in a few years? If he turns out just like Homelander, are you going to come crying to me to take him out?”

You glared at him. He was making a valid point you couldn’t refute, but that didn’t change what he was trying to do.

“You’re unbelievable.” You shook your head and crossed your arms. “You’re actually justifying this.”

“Whether you want to admit it or not, a supe is a supe,” Ben said, raising a finger. “No matter how old they are, they’re a threat.”

“It doesn’t mean a child shouldn’t be protected, Soldier Boy,” you countered. “A life is a life.”

“Hey, if you want to be sanctimonious, good for fucking you,” he shot back. “But don’t tell me how to do my fucking job.”

“I’m asking you to keep your word,” you said. “For both of our sakes.”

That managed to shut him up. With a sigh, you tried to ease up by taking his hand with both of yours, holding it with care. His glove was busted, the skin underneath was red and raw. He allowed it, but he still looked down on you with reserved irritation.

You knew you didn’t have to remind him what breaking Grace’s agreement would mean, for both of you.

“Just follow the plan,” you implored. “Targeted kills only. No collateral damage.”

After Ben came out of the shower, he went into the bedroom to change with a towel wrapped around his waist.

You were already cleaned up, a messy bun atop your head, wearing a plain shirt and some shorts, and sitting up in the bed with your new laptop. But you subtly watched him move around the room.

You noticed the burns across his chest. You were still irritated with him, but you couldn’t help it. You set your laptop aside and went to him.

Ben saw you coming through the large mirror above the dresser. His head turned to you just as you raised a tentative hand near the burns across his chest.

“Does it hurt?” you asked with furrowed brows. Your fingertips were light in touching his chest.

It did sting, but it wasn’t that bad.

Still, all Ben said was, “No. They’ll probably be gone in a few hours anyway.”

Your lower lip stuck out a little, like you didn’t quite believe him as you inspected the various burns.

Ben eyed you. He still couldn’t fucking figure you out.

He knew you were into him…and evidently, you cared about him.

Still, you fought him on virtually everything. There were times when you seemed almost disgusted by him, but when he fucked you, you acted like he was the eighth wonder of the world.

Even now, that perfect damn mouth of yours was frowning while your fingers moved delicately over his skin.

“You want some aloe vera?” you asked.

He knew by your face that you were completely sincere. It made him chuckle. You looked up at him in confusion.

“What’s so funny?”

Not unlike this morning, he picked you up (smirking at your squeal) and set you down on the dresser. His hands rested on your hips while yours laid gently on a non-burnt area of his chest.

“For someone as breakable as you, you seem to be real concerned about me,” he said. “...You’re really not afraid of me, are you?”

Your fingertips ran down his skin, unintentionally raising goosebumps. Though you considered his question with a tilt of your head.

“Why, are you going to break me?” you teased.

Ben huffed in amusement. His lips drew near yours, hovering but not yet claiming. He wanted you to come to him this time. Wanted you to let him know if this thing, whatever it was between you two, was heading where he thought it was…

And you didn’t disappoint him.

You reached out and framed his face with both hands, and pulled him into a kiss. For once, neither of you were in a hurry as one languid kiss turned into another.

Your tongue slipped into his mouth, and he welcomed you with a deep, reverberating hum, along with your thighs slipping around his hips. He took a firm grip of you there, while your fingers carded through his hair.

“Still not tired of this?” you whispered against his lips.

He backed off enough to look at you. Really look at you. His brown hair fell above his brows, and as was your habit, you swept some of it out of his eyes.

You read his answer there without him having to say it in words.

So you pulled him back in.

AN: 😏 Was their reunion everything you wanted it to be? Let me know in the comments!

(And do you wanna know where we're going next?)

Next Time:

“Good morning,” Stan greeted, raising his mug. “Care for a cup? Perhaps a donut.”

“Still fucking smarmy,” Ben said. He stood in front of the man’s desk, flexing his half-gloved fingers. He glanced up at the walls of this office, this tower in the sky. “We’ve been doing this dance for a long time, you and I.”

“And yet, on entirely different tempos,” Stan replied. “How can I help you, Soldier Boy?”

Keep Reading: PART 15

Special Note:

I'm releasing a new one-shot soon, set in this story-verse called "Love Actually." It's part of @deanwinchesterswitch's Christmas in July fic event running this month!

Go here to check it out and participate (as a writer/artist or a reader)!

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wayward-dreamer · 4 months ago

Text

The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year

Square/s filled: dirty talk @jacklesversebingo |

Pairing: Soldier Boy x F!Reader

Word count: 3,820

Summary: After being forced to at least wear Santa's hat if not the full costume at the Vought Christmas party, Soldier Boy catches the eye of the alluring assistant from Hero Management. Despite the embarrassment, it just might work out in his favor. Set in mid 70s.

Warnings: Swearing, smoking, drug use, misogyny, objectification of f!reader, smut: dirty talk, sexual Christmas innuendos, (1) titty slap, oral sex (m receiving), deepthroating, SB spits in reader's mouth, v fingering, spanking, spit as lube, brief anal play, unprotected sex (reader is on some form of BC, but wrap it up people), couch sex, rough sex, cream pie. I hope that's everything, lmk if there's anything I missed pls!

A/N: Requested by @kamisobsessed, I'm sorry it took so long! I tried getting this done before Xmas but it was a crazy time as you can imagine. Anyway, I hope you like it! This is the most fun I've had writing SB and I just hope that it's worked out well. Happy reading everyone! Unbeta'd.

It’s the most wonderful time of the year…

Well that was total horseshit.

It was far from wonderful, especially when the Vought Christmas party came around and all the supes were obligated to attend. Even worse when one of them was forced every year to be Santa for the night, and that year the unnecessary honor had fallen to him. He had never put himself up for the stupid task, so of course he was left to believe that one of the higher ups at the company had whispered it in Hero Management’s ear, and now he had to deal with the embarrassment.

Pushing his hair back, Soldier Boy placed the red velvet hat trimmed with white faux fur back on his head, picking up the glass of Bourbon and throwing it back. He motioned to a waiter for a refill, receiving it from the tray instantly as he placed the empty tumbler back. He had made it clear that if management wanted him to be part of the event then the hat was the only part of the costume he was agreeing to, and knowing they had no place to argue with his status within Vought, they said nothing. He would’ve preferred not to do this, but it seemed a contractual requirement for all of them and there was no way he was risking any income he gained from it.

He was far from a Scrooge; he just wished he could blow off this snooze fest and start his infamous afterparty early.

He watched as guests gathered in groups of three or four, scattered around the huge foyer with drinks in hand. He found himself in brief, random conversations as he moved around the room, everyone wishing him well for the holidays. He always reciprocated the sentiments, but he wasn’t sure he ever meant them. Truthfully, it was the easiest way to get out of conversations.

He just knew he needed to get through another hour or so of this before the real fun could start.

He also knew he was far too sober for this party, the Bourbon not doing enough at this point of the night. He needed a hit and he needed it soon. Excusing himself from a mundane discussion about Vought’s profits, he sauntered through the crowd as he scanned the room for a quiet corner. As his eyes moved over people, they landed on a particular figure, draped in a sequined emerald green, long sleeve dress. It hit the floor, the high slit giving him a glimpse of a gold platform heel as it ascended up her smooth leg to the upper thigh, with a deep v-neckline down the valley of her chest making him practically salivate as he saw the curve of her breast.

The outfit along with the sultry, smokey make-up would’ve made her completely unrecognizable if he didn't see her face everyday as an assistant to Hero Management. The way she looked was a far cry from the powersuits and pencil skirts he was used to seeing on her, her usual attire work appropriate but also hiding her best assets. Though the skirts did a lot of her ass when he couldn’t help but watch her bend over to pick up something.

He continued to watch her as she chatted with some guy from the department, unable to think of his name when all he could think about was how to get her out of that dress. Luckily she gave the guy a small nod before he left, finishing off the last drops of champagne in the coupe glass. He waved a waiter over who was carrying a tray of champagne, telling him to take it over to her. He observed her as she smiled softly, accepting the drink as the waiter no doubt told her it was from him like he asked him to. Her gaze drifted over the guests, locking with his instantly. He tipped his glass at her before he took a sip of the amber liquid, a smirk pulling at his lips as her bottom one tucked between her teeth. This was going to be too easy.

Slowly, with that intimidating gait of his, he crossed the room towards her. She glanced behind before she began to walk away, looking over her shoulder invitingly as she climbed up the staircase to the second floor of the grand foyer into a corner out of the party’s vantage point. She situated herself in front of one of the big windows overlooking the city’s sparkling lights, pulling out a silver cigarette case from her purse, along with her light. She placed one between her red stained lips, lighting up. She blew the plume of smoke out with a tilt of her head, but her eyes remained on him as he loomed closer.

“Got another one of those?” he asked as he stopped a few inches from her.

Offering him one and handing over her lighter, she watched as he lit it and took a long drag, blowing out the large puff. Her gaze remained on him but drifted up, letting out a small huff of a laugh at the Santa hat adorning his head.

“How’d they manage to convince you to do that?”

He shrugged as he leaned against the railing, facing her. “It’s the only thing I agreed to.”

“Not one for Christmas, huh?” she pondered.

“Oh, I got plenty of Christmas spirit in me, sugar,” he smirked. “Just ask, and you can find out how much.”

She scoffed, shaking her head. “It’s not gonna happen, Ben.”

“I saw that look in your eye when you walked over here, Y/N,” he stated, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she denied, taking a sip of champagne.

He grinned. “That’s cute, doll, but you’re not fooling me. I bet there’s a mess between your legs that says otherwise.”

She felt her inner walls clench at his words, a heat pooling in her core. With another pull from the cigarette, she met his eyes. “If there was… what would you do about it?”

He leaned in closer, his green orbs roaming over her features. “Depends on whether you’ve been a good girl this year.”

She couldn’t help but smile. “What if I haven’t?”

“Well, you might have to take Santa’s big candy cane down that tight throat,” he suggested, smirking as he wiggled his eyebrows.

She giggled slightly, a combination of nerves, arousal and amusement. “Seems a little selfish. It’s the season of giving, you know.”

“Season of giving you my dick, maybe,” he whispered, their faces close.

She snorted, biting her lip as she felt herself close to giving into him. “You’re really committed to this bit.”

“So, what do you say we get outta this fucking pathetic excuse of a party and you can take a little ride to the North Pole,” he husked, staring into her eyes. “Or let me come down your chimney?”

“You’re insane,” she whispered, shaking her head.

He found his smile widening despite her words. He never let anyone speak to him like that and was always quick to lay down his authority over them, but considering he could see her resolve slipping with each word, each nervous breath that escaped her as he moved closer to her, he let it slide. They had spoken a handful of times over the years, he had even flirted because that came naturally to him, but this was the first time he got a proper reaction from her. He had to wonder if she kept her true thoughts hidden just like her work attire kept her from showing off everything he could see now in front of him.

Y/N observed him for a moment, thinking about what he was implying. She wasn’t an idiot. She knew what he and other supes got up to after hours. That was part of the job in Hero Management anyway: damage control for the talent. She had always been curious about what they did, especially when gossip would circulate around the office for a few hours before everyone knew they had to shut up and keep up appearances. She brought the glass in her hand to her lips, tilting her head back as she skulled the rest of the drink, putting out her cigarette in it. Her decision was made.

“Lead the way.”

He chuckled as he did the same with his Bourbon, dropping his cigarette into the tumbler. Taking both of her glasses in one hand and linking his other arm with hers, he guided her down the stairs, leaving the glasses on the bottom one as they walked out of the room. They moved down the hallway to the elevator, waiting for it to stop after he pressed the button. As soon as it opened, he pulled her in, pressing the button for the 40th floor. She breathed in deeply, letting it slow as she tried to calm herself down. He looked down at her, smirking as he reached into the pocket of his suit and taking out a small box. He saw the way she watched him like a hawk as he took off his glove, flipped the lid open, tapped some of the white powder along his fist and brought it up to his nose. He sniffed as he threw his head back, repeating the process with his other nostril before he peered back at her. Her gaze shifted between him and the box, a silent question in her eyes. He lifted an eyebrow as he tapped the substance onto his fist again, holding it closer to her. Nervously, she leaned down and snorted the powder, pinching her nose as she stood up straight, feeling the itching burn. Recovering quickly, she took another hit from the opposite side before she could hesitate.

“I… I don’t feel anything,” she muttered a moment later.

He guffawed, leaning down as their lips hovered close to each other. “Give it a minute, doll.”

His mouth crashed onto hers as he pulled her roughly against him, a surprised gasp escaping her as she grabbed onto his shoulders. The elevator dinged as the doors opened to the floor, and they stumbled out, clumsily making it down to his loft apartment. He threw the door open as they remained in a lip lock, pushing her up against the wood just as he shut it, her purse falling at her feet. Her hands struggled to hold onto him, her fingers slipping against the fabric as his arms wrapped tighter around her, his growing erection trapped under the material of his pants as he rubbed against her. His plump lips moved along hers, their tongues meeting in a searing kiss before he ripped his mouth away and left a trail down her jaw, biting and sucking at her neck as he continued to drift down. He licked down the deep opening of her dress, his hand coming up and peeling the fabric to the side to give him access to the swell of her breast. A loud moan escaped her as he sucked the stiff peak into his mouth, roughly circling his tongue over it.

“Oh, fuck,” she breathed, feeling a new sensation joining what he was doing to her. It was something she had never felt before, completely foreign to her before she realized the drug was kicking in.

He let go of the pebbled bud with a wet pop, looking into her eyes as he grinned. “There it is.”

Taking her hands in his, he dragged her away from the door and further into the apartment near the living area. He yanked the other side of her dress to display her whole chest to him, palming the soft tits. His thumb flicked over her nipples, her eyes widening as she whimpered. The sound cut off in her throat before she let out a stunned moan as he lifted both his hands and smacked them down over both breasts, holding onto him so she didn’t fall back from the unexpected feeling it gave her. Her flesh was tingling, a painful sting that turned into pleasurable as it moved in waves through her whole body.

“On your knees,” he ordered, his eyes darkened as he gazed down at her.

She did as she was told, knees on the hardwood floors as the split of her dress fell open and her thick heels dug into the back of her thighs. She watched as he reached down and unzipped his pants, his ungloved hand taking out his hardened length, stroking it slowly. A choked whimper left her as she saw how big he was, the tip red and leaking pre-cum, making her mouth water. Without missing a beat, she leaned forward, dropping her saliva along the length of his cock, softly sucking at the head. She took him in deeper, a soft choke escaping her as it pressed against the back of her throat. She pulled back slightly before sinking her mouth down, building a steady pace, bobbing her head back and forth, circling her tongue around the tip every time she drew back.

“Fuck, doll, that’s it,” he groaned, staring down at her. “Look at me, I wanna see those pretty eyes while you enjoy Santa’s treat for ya.”

A long moan vibrated against his shaft as she gazed up at him, continuing to take him down her throat. He smirked as he saw her dilated pupils, glassy as tears gathered with each swipe of her tongue over his cock. With his gloved hand, he fisted the strands of her hair and held her still, thrusting his hips back and forth swiftly, his length hitting the back of her mouth over and over and making her gag lightly. He pulled her back with the strands, a harsh gasp leaving her as her lungs burned, breathing heavily. He growled as he leaned forward, a thick glob of his spit collecting before he spat into her open mouth and brought her head back down. She didn’t think something like that could arouse her, but it did and she had no time to question as she sucked at his pulsing girth. The glugging sound grew louder as he continued to fuck her mouth, saliva collecting at the corners of her lips. Tears spilled down her cheeks as the pressure built in her throat, causing her mascara and glittery eyeshadow to run.

“Taking my dick so good, sugar,” he husked, gripping her locks tight. “Spread your legs, want you drippin’ and ready for me…”

She opened her legs, the high split giving her better access as she reached into her black, lace panties and found the bundle of nerves. She could feel how wet she already was, but worked her fingers over her clit regardless as his cock slid between her lips. He groaned as he felt her lips close tighter around him, her eyes fluttering as her hand picked up the pace between her thighs.

“Not so fast,” he said, glaring down at her. “You don’t get to cum yet.”

He stepped back and his length slipped out of her mouth, causing her to breath heavily as she stared up at him. He leaned down and fit his hands under her arms, lifting her up and walking back towards the couch. He turned her around, bending her over the arm of the leather sofa and kicked her legs apart. He reached down and pushed her dress aside, his hands moving over the curve of her ass. He tugged roughly at her panties, the seams giving as he ripped the fabric, tossing it on the floor. A shocked moan left her as she tried to look back at him, biting her lip as she felt him grip her flesh tightly, spreading the globes of her ass. His thumbs stroked over the lips of her pussy, a deep groan vibrating in his chest as her arousal dripped over his digits.

“Knew you were fucking hiding something special under those pantsuits,” he stated, his voice low and gravelly. “This is one gorgeous little pussy you got here, doll. I think she’s ready to be filled with my Christmas spirit.”

His hand smoothed over her skin before he lifted it, striking it down hard. A sound somewhere between a squeak and a moan fell from her lips, it coming out once more as he spanked her again, a little firmer. Just as before, the pain gave way to pleasure as the warmth tingled from the spot where he struck her to the rest of her body. He stood behind her, bending slightly as he dropped a long line of saliva from his mouth onto her folds, rubbing it with his fingers and pressing the tip of his cock at her entrance. A smirk pulled at his lips as his thumb moved up to tease the puckered hole, dipping into the tight ring a little just as he plunged deep into her.

Y/N moaned loudly as he instantly set a brutal pace, her walls clenching around him as thrusted out and back in, moving deeper within her. Her long, red nails dug into the leather of the couch cushion, trying to hold herself up on shaky arms as her whole body shuddered from the impact of his thrusts. He pounded into her, the slap of skin and their sounds of erotic bliss a cacophony that echoed around the room. He grinned as he looked down, hearing the wet squelch of her pussy taking his cock, her arousal turning thicker and whiter as her moans grew louder with each stroke.

“Such a needy little slut, doll. Desperate for me to stuff your stocking, huh?” he asked, chuckling lightly.

She whimpered, squeezing her eyes shut. “Y-Yes! Need it-”

“I know, sugar, I know. Just need to prove how good you are, don’t ya?”

“Yeah,” she gasped, emphasizing it with a small nod. She had a slight coherence that she probably sounded pathetic at that moment, but she couldn’t care about it when he was making her feel this way.

He laughed harder, almost mockingly. “But you know, a pussy that’s as wet, as tight, as needy as yours… always comes from the naughty list.”

He slammed into her, her eyes flying open as she felt him stretching her walls more, his impressive girth and length reaching places inside she didn’t even think existed. It was overwhelming, the sensation that coursed through along with the drug she had taken. It was too much and she didn’t know how much longer she could hold on.

“Oh, fuck, it’s-it’s so deep,” she moaned, her forehead pressing into the couch. “I-I can’t-”

“Oh, I think you can, doll. Can feel this tight little hole stretching around me, so good at taking my cock,” he husked, emphasizing his words with a powerful smack against her ass.

She shrieked, glancing back at him as she panted. “Ben, please. I need-I need to cum.”

A heat pooled low in her core, feeling her muscles tighten as she grew closer to that inevitable climax, one she already knew would be her undoing in many ways. Now that she had been with him, felt this erotic display of his sheer power, could she ever go back to normal after this?

“You’re almost there, aren’t ya, sugar?” he muttered, squeezing her asscheek. “Wanna see you soak my dick, make a mess on me…”

“So-so close!” she exclaimed, gripping the cushions under for dear life.

He smirked as his pelvis slapped against the curve of her ass, loving the way her walls clenched around him. He felt his cock throbbing inside her, his own imminent release making his hips falter. He leaned over her, his lips close to her ear as a smug smile graced his lips.

“You gonna let me cum inside you, doll? Fill up your stocking with a big present from Santa’s sack?” he whispered, the timbre of his voice rough.

With those words and another thrust of hips, a euphoric wave washed over her as the dam broke, his name ripped from her throat in a wanton cry. Her wetness dripped out of her and around his cock, running down his balls as he gripped her hips tight. He pounded into her once, twice more before his cock pulsed, his neck straining back with a strangled grunt escaping him as long spurts of his cum coated her walls.

Y/N breathed heavily, a soft whine coming from her at the loss of him inside her, turning on wobbly legs to see him tucking himself back inside in his pants. He zipped up and straightened the top of his suit, their eyes meeting when he glanced at her. She smiled softly, moving her hand between her legs and letting out a small sigh at the way his cum dripped out of her. She gathered some of it on her fingers, bringing it to her lips and swiping her tongue across them, moaning at his musky taste.

“Thanks for a white Christmas,” she quipped.

He chuckled, plucking the Santa hat off his head and throwing it on the floor, stroking a hand through his locks. “Pleasure’s all mine, doll.”

She bit her lip as she straightened up, fixing her dress back into place but remained still as she waited for the feeling to return to her legs before she tried walking in her heels again. She eyed him as he took that little box again, catching her looking at him as he waved the little tin at her.

“You know, the afterparty’s about to start in another hour,” he started, sauntering over to her. Peering down into her eyes, he grinned as he raised his eyebrows. “It’ll pass a lot quicker if you’re up for round two.”

“And then you kick me out before the real fun starts?” she jested, resting her hand on his chest.

He shook his head, slowly, his gaze never leaving hers. “Didn’t say anything about you leaving, sugar.”

Her lips pulled up as she felt her cheeks heat up, looking down as he offered her his hand. She slipped her smaller one into his, letting him pull her into his side as he walked out of the living area. His hand left hers and moved up her back, finding the zipper of her dress and pulling it down completely. His lips were instantly at the back of her neck as he guided her towards the bedroom, neither of them ready to come up for air any time soon. In fact, it would be the early hours of the next morning when she’d eventually leave, both of them euphoric and unable to come down from the high of the party, the drugs and the mind blowing orgasms.

Maybe he was wrong all along.

Maybe it really was the most wonderful time of the year.

#jacklesversebingo24 #Soldier Boy x Female!Reader #Soldier Boy x Female!Reader Smut #Soldier Boy x Female!Reader One Shot #Soldier Boy x Female!Reader Fanfiction #Soldier Boy Smut #Soldier Boy One Shot #Soldier Boy Fanfiction #The Boys Smut #The Boys One Shot #The Boys Fanfiction #the boys tv

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l-in-the-light · 7 months ago

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The most embarrassing series of posts about Lawlu you will ever read: edition Whole Cake Island (part 12)

Lawlu in Whole Cake Island? There is none! Actually... do we really need Law to be present to analyze it, come to think of it? Luffy is really all we need; to watch his behaviour, things he says, his determination, to guess how Law's influence would show and how partying ways with him (even if temporarily) would impact Luffy.

This is the Alice in Wonderland Arc of One Piece, which means Luffy's main struggle will be to face himself, his own weakness, fears, and maybe even his own self-hatred. Which is why this time it won't be the usual scrutinizing analysis of frame by frame, but instead I will take a deep-dive into Luffy's mind. Are you ready? :D

Luffy starts Whole Cake Island arc in a rush. Because why wouldn't he feel in a rush? There's a wedding to stop! There's a chance they won't make it in time, after all. But... seeing how Zou ended, there's probably one more reason why Luffy is so irritated and wants to get things done as fast as possible... there will be someone waiting for him in Wano, alongside the rest of Luffy's own crew. Luffy could tolerate being seperated from his own crew for two years, but this two weeks trip to Whole Cake Island seems like a torture to him. What changed exactly between timeskip and now? Oh, right, Law got added into the picture ;)

"See? She didn't have any problem with my yeeting!" and I wish he could add "Law also had no trouble after I yeeted us in Dressrosa, you should be more hardboiled like him!", because I swear, this feels like the thing he actually means. And he is right, Law hated being yeeted, but he dealed with it just fine in the end, keeping his clear mind and sense of direction intact.

And then, out of nowhere, Luffy gains an interest in cooking. Luffy, of all people! The very same Luffy who thought a musician is more essential on the crew than a cook!

He even compares Nami's nutritional knowledge to a doctor instead of a cook. For Luffy, a cook is just someone who makes your food look and taste extra great, but it's not neccessary for a kid who grew up in a jungle eating everything the way it comes or simply by roasting it over a fire. So why is he suddenly so interested in cooking?? Is he missing Sanji that much? Is he trying to make his crew miss Sanji so the reunion is more emotional? Good guesses, but they have one flaw: they don't take Luffy's personality enough into account.

Back in East Blue, Luffy agreed to recruit a cook before a musician only because his crew wanted one and also because he's a freaking glutton.

"You guys are really rude, I made this food for you!" now that doesn't fit with Luffy's personality of "I want to eat all the meat". Suddenly, it's for them, hm?

Then he tries his own "kitchen sink curry", spits it out, shouts that's it's inedible and flips the table! Why so mad? Oh yeah, because as we learn soon after, he tried cooking multiple times and it's still something that can't be eaten. He tried so many times that he wasted a stock of food they had that was supposed to last them for a week, for all of them! And it's all gone in one day.

Luffy's frustration is understandable then, because this is what he considers to be "his best attempt". As we learn from SBS, Luffy's best dish is just a bowl of meat (in other words: pieces of meat put in a bowl lol), which means he would not prepare "curry" or any sort of exquisite dish for himself. He indeed did this dish with others in mind. He would be more likely to just roast whatever he caught and shove it towards them, asking "you want some?", if it was only about him.

Despite his constant failures, he's still not getting discouraged and wants to learn how to cook edible things for people to enjoy. Nami though stops him and tells him "to never go into the kitchen again", ouch. They have been starving for days as the result of Luffy's "cooking attempts" and Luffy almost lost his life as the result (eating poisonous skin of a fish they finally caught), so her reaction is understandable. But this should make us realize that Luffy, thanks to this whole (mis)adventure, understands Sanji better without even realizing it. After all, Sanji was also told to "never cook again" by his father.

But I think this adventure has one more meaning. Whole Cake Island is basically a tale about the good and bad sides of food industry, but also how food creates connections between people. And I think XxXholic covered the latter part better than I could ever put in words, so forgive me for the unexpected crossover here. You don't need to know XxXholic, its plot or characters to be able to follow the quotes, they also don't spoil anything from the plot, so don't worry. We're just following one of the many, many side characters there.

First of all, if you want to repay a debt or show your gratitude, the best way is to offer food and good drink. And the best way to do it, is to offer stuff you cooked yourself, because they require your own time and effort, and include your feelings (of gratitude and love) for the person you cooked it for. If someone does you a favour, it's a good idea to say "thanks" by preparing a dish they like, for example.

"I would like to cook with you and then eat it together. And then I would really like to know more about you. And for you to learn about me, as well" says the protagonist to one of his clients. Cooking together is a big thing because it creates an equal, mutual bond: you get to know me, I get to know you, and we can both try to become better at cooking together, but also better people for each other as well. Because by cooking we learn more about what the other person likes and dislikes, but also about their personality: their usual way of problem solving, about their patience, flexibility, stubborness, ability to learn etc. Your prefered way of cooking can also reflect your personality this way and you try to offer your best through a dish you put a lot of effort to make, for someone to enjoy.

You can learn a lot about yourself as well through cooking. If you compare your own cooking to someone else's, you can realize your own personality traits you wished you would have never noticed (for example impatience, like Luffy flipping the table in anger: even Nami called him out on it, Sanji would not approve of that action!). You might also realize that someone preparing food for you did it with lots of feelings, of kindness and love, and that's why that food tastes good. And if in comparison your own food is terrible, bland, without flavour or personality, it just shows you don't really share your own love with the world through the act of cooking. In Luffy's case up there, his food was so terrible (though definitely full of his personality lol) despite him putting in his best effort and feelings. How did it make him feel about himself? Perhaps like he has nothing good to offer to people he loves? But his final reaction is always this: try to be better and do better!

Luffy offering his failed attempts to his crew serves the same purpose: he's offering them what he has, even if the result is disgusting. But this is the kind of person Luffy is at the moment and he has nothing better to offer!

The sidestory in XxXholic has a happy ending, the struggle continues on and the woman's significant other supports her efforts and says they will wait for as long as it takes. Now, what does that have to do with One Piece? The reason this woman couldn't cook something that would taste good wasn't because she's clumsy, or didn't put any effort in or lacked knowledge (she actually studied cooking like it's an university subject, it clearly mattered a lot to her!).

What she lacked in the end was love, not for others, but for herself. She hated herself so much that she believed anything she would do would turn out bad (which is exactly what happened over and over), almost like she was subconsciously self-sabotaging her own efforts. And since she didn't have love for herself she had nothing to give to others either, despite caring for them and being so grateful to people who loved her the way she is, imperfect, disbelieving in her own worth, broken. She just didn't feel like she has anything to offer to all the great people around her.

Sounds familiar?

"What can you do?" Arlong asks Luffy. "You can't do anything, you're a disgrace as a captain". And Luffy proceeds to say he has great people who support him (which means he does not think of himself as great, he knows he lacks in so many ways), but there is one, just one thing he can do for them back: it's to beat up people like Arlong.

And yet despite that, in Whole Cake Island, Luffy attempts to do what he literally can't do: to cook. He knows he can't do it, but he tries it anyway, knowing very well what the end result will be. It's not that he lost his mind. We mustn't forget why he's doing a stealthy mission on WCI. It's exactly because he can't do what he usually does: beat up Big Mom. He promised he won't do it. But what *can* he do then? It's his struggle to become better and get out of his comfort zone, and he starts that from attempting cooking. It won't be the first or last time that he will fight against himself in this arc, even denying things he had the most confidence in. This is the arc in which Luffy loses the sight of what he can and can't do, and needs to come up with a new answer or rediscover the one he already had all along. This is Luffy in a crisis.

Now is that related to Luffy being seperated from Law and dealing badly with it? Or Luffy realizing how much he knows Law has faith in him and he wants to live up to it? Because like we established before, Luffy is doing this stealthy attempt only for the sake of his alliance with Law, he would not bother usually and would just destroy Big Mom because she's in his way. I can only imagine Luffy's inner struggle when he tries to come up with a new solution here but can't get any, nothing works out if he just can't beat up the bad guy and move on. Luffy's later refusal to eat anything that isn't Sanji's cooking, not even the syrup rain, must reflect how Luffy feels about himself in this moment: he feels pathetic and useless and he must hate himself for it.

There's one more angle to it. Luffy suspiciously wants to cook as fast as they're seperated from Law. He thinks nutritional knowledge is something a doctor does and he's impressed with it. Law is a doctor. It's not a stretch to think that Luffy wants to learn something new to impress his favourite person upon return. It's highly likely he wants to cook for Law as well (and he's using his crew for taste-testing for now), because he has feelings of love and gratitude he wants to convey to him, but he doesn't know how to do it. But Luffy always had Sanji who used his cooking exactly for that: to show his feelings of love for people (and was very vocal about it!). Luffy is just trying to do the same, but he realized he can't do it no matter what. By the end of the arc he comes back to terms with himself and finds the old truth again: he will leave the cooking to Sanji and rely on his crew. He can try to be a better person in other ways, but he will keep on searching for a way to show love and gratitude to them.

And we will not talk about Luffy suddenly remembering people smooch each other and talking about it in context of Sanji's wedding, uhum. If that's on his mind all of a sudden when it wasn't even once for last 80 volumes, then you can guess why it suddenly would be. People who love and care for each other smooch, so maybe he was considering... things...

Another odd thing Luffy does, which is to check on the map and comments, frowning "it's weird". He has a point, because we learn later it was a deliberate trap. But he's paying attention here because he tries to be useful and does things he usually wouldn't be doing. Just like with cooking.

Same here. It's probably the first moment in which Luffy realizes that having a longterm plan would be actually a good thing. Yeah, Luffy of all people. That's because he must be thinking "if it was Law, he would definitely have one". I feel like other people were pointing it out to Luffy before, but it's the first time he actually shows that he kinda cares and isn't answering with "I'm just here for the adventure. And become a king of the pirates, no plans included!".

Look here. This is Luffy in a crisis. "I have to get back and I'll destroy everything in my way if I have to!" Not only he's not supposed to destroy everything or beat up Big Mom, which he points out a moment later, but Luffy is clear here, he made his decision: if he can't go back, he will simply get rid of everything on his way. Getting back is the most important thing, everything else be damned.

Except... are we really talking about Sanji here? Get back where, Luffy? To Wano perhaps, where your crew and Law will be waiting?

"I'm not going to die in a place like this!!", "I made him a promise, but it's not here!!". I'm just saying, this applies both to Sanji and the promise Luffy made "to meet up in Wano". And if he wants to get back no matter what, it's because he knows he can't die here, he can't force a certain someone to go through a big loss again. He would rather tear off his arms than not return at all and break his promise.

And we get Sanji with his "I didn't tell you to wait..." and Luffy just laughs in reply. This particular laugh he used only once before, btw, and I don't recall anywhere else:

When he was telling Zoro how much he's worrying about Sanji. Because why wouldn't Luffy know that Zoro and Sanji are the most important people for each other? Zoro is his best friend and his first crewmate, Luffy just knows what's in his heart, the same way that Zoro probably knows who is so important for Luffy as well.

Do you still think Luffy-Sanji scene was *only* about Luffy and Sanji? That the whole promise talk was only about Sanji? And not two particular people waiting for both of them in Wano? It was always about both reasons.

Luffy says he can't be the king of the pirates without Sanji. And demands that Sanji says how he really feels (which is "to go back on Sunny" ❤). Imagine if Luffy said both of those lines to Usopp in Water 7. Maybe a lot of the conflict could have been avoided. Especially if Luffy would also follow his very own advice, because he was not saying his true feelings in the quarrel with Usopp. What changed since Water 7 in Luffy? A lot, actually. Ace, timeskip, Dressrosa, Law... All those things are huge milestones in Luffy's development. But there's also the promise he made. He promised Zoro his crew to bring Sanji back. And that promise also changed everything.

WCI is also the first arc in which Luffy says he is ready to drop everything, even his own dream, and go save whoever needs to be saved for his crew's sake. It's very ironic how in this scene he also needs to struggle against himself, this time with his enormous hunger, that seems to sabotage his ironclad determination. For once Luffy doesn't do things for food and that despite the whole arc being exactly about food. That's how serious he is.

Now we have to talk about the alliance with Bege. Here is Luffy's initial reaction: "what an awful person", "Bege is gonna get it!". He does not like Bege at all, he also wants to punch him for what Bege did to Pekoms. In other words, Luffy doesn't think Bege is a good person, at all.

But just a moment later, when Jimbei tells him "you should work together with Bege", Luffy changes his mind immediately. He's all up for this alliance. His crew, that has been with Luffy the longest (Nami and Sanji) can't believe their ears. What an interesting change, isn't it? Like I argued at the beginning of this post, Luffy has to do things differently this time instead of doing what he usually does. The problem is, he's not good at anything else than "beating the main bad guy". That's why in this case he's determined to do something he would usually never do. And forgive me for the callback again to XxXholic, because I can't resist:

Luffy has the same idea as the protagonist here. "This is all I can do", and "if this person was with me, they would be able to find a better way". In other words, Luffy agreed to this alliance because he thinks this is something Law would do as well. Luffy is constantly wondering in Whole Cake Island how Law would handle the situation and he knows he can't come even close to his level, but at least he will try to follow in his footsteps.

Of course Luffy wants at first to punch Bege for Pekoms. He's still trying to make this alliance a friendship, and if he hits Bege then they will be even, so they can try becoming friends. That's basically the idea.

But he doesn't get to do that and in the end, Luffy agrees to alliance based on "common goal" or "allignment of interest". He did not become friends with Bege in the process and didn't make things even between them. This proves Luffy knows what an alliance is and it's not friendship. I wouldn't say this means Luffy finally learned what an actual alliance is (though it's tempting, ngl). I would rather say he always knew that, but he chose to make it a point that whatever he has with Law, is friendship firstmost, alliance second.

And here is Luffy listening to Bege's plan. He's trying, okay. Not his fault he's constantly getting distracted, sidetracked and overfocused on making a silly entrance party trick (jumping out of the wedding cake). Bege is just not Law, and Luffy's tiktok's level span of attention is struggling here, heh. Also please notice Luffy's unusual focus on the smooching lol.

Oh, so that's Luffy's idea for the wedding surprise. He just wanted to do ninja's shadow clonining trick, definitely inspired by Raizou's show in Zou.

Coincidentally, that's the technique that was Law's request and made Law so damn impressed. Yeah, this is for sure a coincidence, that Luffy chose to do it like that, even though he didn't really have to have multiple copies of himself here to make it work. I bet he just thought "if Law would be here, that would impress him, I'm sure!" and I bet he's looking forward to telling him all about this adventure later on and seeing his face.

But it was essenstial for his plan to create chaos! He didn't do it just for fun! Are you sure? Because it was Brook who hid himself in the midst and did the deed with Mother Carmel's photo frame, and Luffy did not tell him to do this. Luffy simply wanted to be cool, okay, he didn't think that far ahead. He was supposed to cause chaos, he delivered.

And in his fight with Katakuri, Luffy is the one who has to have faith. Law had his faith moment in Dressrosa, now it's Luffy's turn.

Luffy found his answer about what he can do and how to become a better person for someone. It's to master his observation haki. Which, coincidentally, is Law's forte.

Luffy's curious, very strict words to Jimbei. "Don't let even death stop you, we'll be waiting in Wano!" It's basically Luffy's own promise he made before leaving Zou, just said in more deadly serious manner. That's because his experience in Whole Cake Island made him realize it himself: he will go back to Wano and not even death can stop him from achieving that. Because he promised that to Law people.

I'm sure for Law this would be indeed the most important thing, not to lose anyone ever again, especially Luffy who he (miraculously) managed to save all the way back in Marineford. I don't know how Luffy knows this or if he knows at all about Law's deepest fear, but he's determined not to die on him, that's for sure.

This is also the first big seperation for Luffy and Law. Luffy deals with it, treating everything like an adventure to tell Law later so it feels like Law is there with him even though he's not. But also treats it like a challenge, to become a better and stronger person so he won't disappoint him.

Still convinced there was no Lawlu in WCI? Oh well, if that's the case then all I can say is: I tried my best :D

If anyone wants to read all the parts of this series without going to my masterpost, then just click "love is a hurricane" tag :3

#one piece #trafalgar law #luffy #lawlu #lulaw #luffy x law #zosan #just a bit because I couldn't refuse it #it was stronger than me #love is a hurricane #xxxholic #we're finally going to Wano from now on #my takes on Wano's Lawlu might be super crazy for you all #so I guess prepare for lots of surprises #so is “alliance means friendship” still so true to you Luffy? hehe #cooknumber3 you're right they're totally ghibli style of “love” striving to become the best versions of themselves for their ImportantPerso #one piece meta

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