#suppose his body just turned less smooth over time

[toad-in-a-trenchcoat]

wasn’t as sure what to do about him, but here’s elderly Sohone

[incognit0slut]

On camera

PART 4 OF KINKTOBER | MAIN MASTERLIST

Roommate!Spencer x Camgirl!Reader Spencer requests to take on a more involved role in one of your live streams.

content: (18+) 4k, exhibitionism/voyeur, reader wears lingerie, unprotected penetrative sex, creampie, overstimulation (surprisingly it’s him for once), and a hint of cockwarming at the end a/n: this is the second part to a special show although you don't necessarily have to read it to understand what’s happening. this took a while because… there was a little pressure? i didn’t expect people to wait on this i hope it lives up to the expectations, let me know what you think my cuties<3

You nudged your foot against his. “We don’t have to do this, you know. I don’t mind.”

“I’m fine."

"Are you sure? You've been quiet ever since you sat down."

He felt the words knot up in his throat. The quiet wasn’t hesitation, it was disbelief. The kind that lingered in the gap between what he imagined and what was happening. The lack of conviction that defied logic, even when he was the one who initiated to exist beyond just a pair of hands at the edges of the frame.

"Spence?”

He glanced at you. Deep pools of brown drowning in lust swept over the piece of lingerie you decided to put on tonight. Even without much fashion sense, Spencer could appreciate the soft frills of purple lace clinging to your figure. The garter belt wrapped snugly around your waist, leading down to thin straps that framed your smooth thighs, and every logical thought he tried to root out slipped away the longer he looked at you.

Wait. Purple?

Purple.

Although Spencer was sure it probably had a fancier, specific name that bordered on… lilac? Lavender? Or something else elusive he couldn’t quite pin down. To him it was just purple. He might not have the vocabulary to describe the exact shade, but he knew the way it looked on you was nothing short of captivating.

“You’re wearing purple.”

The frown creased between your brows as you tried to make sense of his sudden observation.

“I am.” Your lips formed a slight pout. “And you still haven’t answered my question.“

And he still couldn’t bring himself to answer.

“I thought you were supposed to be Princess Pink?”

The words left his mouth before he could stop them. It was true. Pink was your color. The soft, playful blush had always been part of your alter ego. You shifted on your feet, glancing down at the purple lace hugging your hips before meeting his eyes again. A small, hesitant smile tugged at the corners of your lips, and for a moment, you looked almost… shy.

“Well, yeah,” you admitted, your voice so soft it dipped into a tone he wasn’t used to hearing from you. Your fingers traced the edge of the fabric absently, and you glanced away again as if finding the floor more interesting.

“I thought maybe… it might help, you know? Calm your nerves or something.” The nervous laugh creeping out of you sounded strained. “I know you like purple… so I figured…”

The corner of his lips curled upwards. His smile reminded you of the times he caught you off guard with a look that was equally amused and deeply affectionate as if he couldn’t believe his luck.

“You wore it for me?”

You felt warmth rise to your neck but decided there was no point in hiding it. “I thought it might make this less scary for you.”

His smile faltered. “I’m not scared.”

“Spencer, you’re about to get naked.”

“You’ve seen me naked before.”

You couldn’t help but let out an amused laugh. He stated it so plainly with no hint of self-consciousness or hesitation. And technically, he was right. You had seen him completely, wholly bare more times than you could count by now ever since that first night you stripped away his innocence.

You still remembered how you had pulled him across the line from a curious roommate to someone who wanted to know every inch of your body. And that night turned into another, and then another, until what you were doing stopped being about one-off hookups and started blurring the boundaries you’d drawn between friendship and something more. Something you couldn't quite put your finger on that felt heavier than lust but not quite defined as love.

Spencer was a roommate, a friend, a lover, and eventually, an active participant in your live streams.

His hands were, at least.

You took a step forward, slipping between his legs where he sat comfortably at the edge of your bed. “I have seen you naked,” you agreed, “but they haven’t.”

His hands hovered at your waist, fingers twitching over your lace as if he wasn’t sure where to put them. He glanced up at you, his gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips before he finally admitted, “Okay… maybe I am a little nervous.”

“I know, but you don’t need to be. Think of it this way, the people who are going to see us will only be jealous of you.”

“Why would they be jealous of me?”

“Because you’re the one who gets to be with me.” You reached up to brush his hair back from his face, tucking those long, unruly strands behind his ear. “They’re in their rooms jerking off to a screen while you get to kiss me.”

A kiss fell on his lips.

“Touch me.”

Another peck.

“And fuck me.”

He chased your lips this time, his mouth puckering before he closed the gap. His words were muffled against you, “I am pretty lucky.”

“The luckiest,” you mumbled back. A soft smack of a kiss lingered in the air when you pulled away. “And you don’t have to worry, once we get started, you’ll be too distracted to remember what you were even nervous about.”

He hummed, the sound deep and rumbling in his chest as his grip on your waist tightened. “I think you might be right.”

“Good.” You moved to the side of the bed. “Now let me set up the camera.”

The tripod attached to the top of your computer screen wobbled slightly as you fiddled with it, adjusting the device until the lens angled down. You observed the setup, making sure it captured your body and the way Spencer’s hand rested on your waist without revealing either of your faces.

Perfect.

“You ready?”

Surprisingly, he was.

With a slight nod from him, you turned on the live stream.

Princess_Pink is online.

Spencer’s eyes widened as the chat erupted in a flurry of notifications, messages pouring in so rapidly they blurred into an endless stream of words.

“That’s a lot of people," he muttered under his breath.

“That’s the usual amount of people.”

“No, it’s not,” he countered. “I can’t even keep up with the chat.” Which was saying a lot. For someone who could read entire pages of text in mere seconds, this was overwhelming in a way he hadn’t anticipated.

“Don’t let them intimidate you.” You turned around and slipped between his legs again, feeling the way his knees instinctively parted to make space. “Just focus on me.”

Spencer barely managed to nod before your lips met his again, and with that, everything else seemed to dissolve. He could never quite get used to how effortlessly you could unravel him with just a kiss. His hands slid up the back of your thigh, the rough pads of his fingers brushing over your skin as they trembled slightly, grazing the delicate strap of your garter before settling firmly on your ass.

A surprised giggle bubbled out of you.

“Easy there,” you murmured, catching his bottom lip gently between your teeth before letting it go with a playful tug. “I have to greet them first.”

He reluctantly loosened his grip, letting his fingers linger on you for a final moment before slipping away to rest at his sides. His eyes remained fixed on you as you turned away, shifting your focus back to the screen and reaching over to the mic.

A faint hum filled the room as it came to life. Spencer could feel his breaths gradually falling into sync before your sweet voice cut through the silence like honey.

“Hi, boys,” you purred, letting the greeting roll off your tongue. “Did you miss me?"

Princess.no1.fan: Princess!!! JadenCums: we missed those tits Adam_4432: fucking hot as always Adam_4432: purple looks good on you Crazydick: who's the skinny loser at the back

You rolled your eyes as the comment popped up in the chat.

“This is getting old,” you said with a sigh, fingers hovering over the mouse. “You’re all obsessed with him.”

With a quick flick of your wrist, you blocked the troll and watched with satisfaction as his name disappeared from the list. Spencer tried to peek over your shoulder. “What did they say?”

“Nothing important,” you replied lightly, brushing it off as you turned back to the mic. "Didn’t I tell you guys to play nice?”

Princess.no1.fan: i always play nice with you JadenCums: they’re just jealous of your boy toy Adam_4432: ignore the haters, babe BigBoss88: let him stay in the background ThickNick: you're gorgeous princess

“Remember, if you can’t behave, you don’t get to stay. And I don’t think any of you want to miss out on what we've prepared."

That was his cue, right? He forced down the tightness in his throat, the sensation catching and shifting like a dry click as his pulse quickened. With a quiet exhale, he slipped off the edge of the bed and made his way behind you.

There was a moment of hesitation. But his doubt faded into the background as he focused on the curve of your waist beneath his fingers. He let his hands move slowly, tracing upward with a touch that lingered at the dip of your spine until his fingers brushed the delicate lace of your bra.

Wide hands covered the soft swell of your breasts.

Princess.no1.fan sent a $50 gift.

“See?” you breathed, pressing your back against him. “You play nice, you get to enjoy the show.”

He couldn’t help but squeeze your flesh, fingers sinking in and then pulling back, the skin dimpling under the pressure before slowly springing back. His veins looked prominent, winding up his forearm like delicate, raised lines that caught the light on camera every time he moved over the fabric of your bra.

And the lace offered the thinnest barrier. He could feel the way your nipple firmed underneath his touch, straining subtly as if it, too, was reaching out for more. He traced small, lazy circles around it, and when you arched into him, he had to bite back a smile. He pressed a kiss on your shoulder instead.

“You’re so good at this,” you muttered, letting your hand drift up to the back of his head, fingers threading through his hair.

He let out a quiet hum of acknowledgment, his fingers hooking under the edge of your bra’s cup before pulling it down. Your breasts bounced slightly, settling naturally in his palm as the lace slipped away.

“I’ve had a lot of practice.”

A soft moan escaped you as he began to explore, and Spencer couldn’t help the surge of satisfaction that followed. He was rougher than he intended to be at times, testing the line between what made you shiver and what made you push back for more. It was the way he rolled both of your nipples between his fingers, alternating between gentle pinches and firmer twists, that finally drew the most telling reaction—a subtle, instinctive rub of your ass against him.

He took it as a sign to touch you further, one hand drifting lower while the other stayed firmly in place. Goosebumps prickled over your skin as he slid down your stomach until he reached the edge of your panties. His fingers skimmed along the waistband, and you could feel his breath coming in quick, shallow bursts as he brushed his knuckles underneath the delicate material, hesitating.

Adam_4432 sent you a $100 gift.

That was enough to break through his hesitation. Without a word, he slipped his fingers beneath the lace.

The heat between your thighs greeted him, and there was no mistaking what that meant. You were wet, so wet that his fingers glided over your folds like silk. He couldn’t help but feel a flicker of smugness as each subtle shift seemed to draw a new sound from your lips.

He let his fingers slide lower, searching, and when he finally found your clit, brushing his fingertips lightly over it, you jerked in his arms. The tiny, sensitive nub was swollen and begging for attention as it pulsed under his touch like a racing heartbeat. He gave gentle rubs. Slow circles. Steady pressure. The more he explored, the more your arousal smeared against his fingertips.

“Oh—you’re gonna make me cum so fast,” you gasped. You threw your head back against his shoulder, letting out a whine you knew would drive your viewers wild. “What do you think, boys? Should he make me cum now?”

The chat lit up instantly, flooded with messages begging you to let go, but between the rapid scroll of usernames and flashing emojis, one message caught your eye.

Looking4Sluts: no Looking4Sluts: cum on his cock Looking4Sluts sent you a $200 gift.

The notification flashed across the screen, and you felt a surge of adrenaline, a wicked smile playing on your lips. “Do you see that, baby?”

He nodded against your neck.

“They want more of you,” you purred, letting your hips roll back against him, pressing yourself closer to his obvious erection. “They want to see just how good you make me feel.”

Your words went straight to his cock. His touch suddenly changed as he began to move faster against your clit, and a choked gasp spilled from your lips. But just as the pressure started to build rapidly, you quickly grabbed his wrist, pulling his hand from your panties.

“No, not yet,” you stopped him, turning your head to catch his ear, your lips brushing against the shell. “Wanna cum on your cock.”

He watched as you reached down and slowly hooked your fingers into the sides of your panties, sliding them down your legs. A thin string of your arousal followed as you lowered the fabric, clinging to the lace before it finally broke and left a glistening trail against your thigh.

His balls tightened painfully.

Princess.no1.fan: Holy shit, that’s so fucking hot JadenCums: fisting my cock so hard Fatcock_777: wreck that damn pussy PussyLover69: i bet she’s fucking tight Looking4Sluts: jesus christ, she’s dripping

Spencer’s mind emptied the moment you leaned forward, planting your palms firmly on the desk for balance. The way your body arched made his pulse stutter, a surge of heat rushing through him so quickly it almost left him lightheaded.

“Like… this? Standing?”

You glanced back at him over your shoulder. “Exactly like this.”

He could barely think straight. His hands moved on their own, one sliding over your hips, gripping you firmly, while the other fumbled with his waistband, desperately tugging his pants down. The fabric slid down over his thighs, and he bit back a groan as his cock sprang free, hard and aching, pressing against the bare skin of your ass.

He could feel the heat of you against him, and it took every ounce of self-control to keep himself from sinking into you all at once. He pressed in closer, feeling the steady thrum of his pulse echoing in the ache between you both as the tip of his cock settled right where your folds parted. He rocked his hips in shallow motions.

“Baby…” You tilted your hips just enough to align with him, “no teasing."

But hearing those words only made him want to draw it out even more. He let his bulging head nudge at your hole, barely dipping in before pulling back, feeling the way you instinctively pressed against him.

"Spe—" you faltered, then groaned. "Stop it."

He couldn’t help but smile as his fingers found the straps of your garter belt. He tugged on one gently, watching the elastic snap back against your skin. "But you look so pretty."

"I'll look prettier with your cock inside me."

That did it. With one last shaky exhale, Spencer gripped your hips firmly and began to sink himself into you, feeling the tight, warm stretch of your cunt.

“Oh my god,” you gasped. He felt a slight resistance as your body adjusted to him. He carefully gave a few gentle thrusts, easing in and out just enough for you to relax.

Looking4Sluts: fuck yes JadenCums: she's so fucking tight PeachyKeen420: look at him stretching her PussyFiend69: just watching this is gonna make me cum HotForTits: Fuck her harder dude she wants it

His eyes flickered to that last comment, and something inside him shifted, like a switch flipping. Without another thought, without any lingering trace of hesitation, he tightened his grip on your hips and pushed in all at once.

Your moan tore through the air. So. Fucking. Loud.

HotForTits sent you a $300 gift

The notification flashed across the screen, but Spencer barely registered it, his control was slipping further away as his hips moved on their own. He started to grind into you, eyes traveling to your connected bodies. You were practically swallowing his cock, clenching so tightly around him that he felt like you were pulling him deeper, refusing to let him go.

In a way, you did beg for it. Each time you met his thrusts with an eager roll of your hips, the sound of skin slapping together echoed around you. He would have thought he’d be shy doing this in front of so many watchful eyes, but the way you moved against him made it impossible to care.

It only made him bolder. He let his hand slide up your back, fingers fumbling slightly with the clasp of your bra before he unhooked it. The straps slipped down your shoulders, sliding down your arms, and then you were completely, utterly naked, except for the garter hugging your thighs.

You were so pretty like this, so incredibly beautiful it made his pulse stutter in his veins. You were so pretty that it was almost disorienting, as if looking at you too long might make him forget where he was. And in his mind, all the lofty notions of beauty and art seemed to fall flat compared to seeing you like this. He needed to see all of you.

A startled whimper left your lips when he suddenly pulled out.

“Can you angle the camera down?"

There was a knowing look in your eyes. Your fingers moved to adjust the tripod, and he wasted no time stripping himself. By the time you were done angling the camera, he was already sitting on the edge of your bed, his cock throbbing against his stomach.

He looked painfully hard. Hard enough that every heartbeat seemed to pulse visibly along his length. You crawled onto his lap.

“Hi.”

His palm found the curve of your hip. "Hi."

“Are you okay?”

He nodded, his fingers tightening around the base of his cock as he urged you to lift your hips. “I think I’m starting to understand why you do this.”

“Yeah?”

"Mhm.” He nudged his tip between your folds. “It’s kind of exciting.”

You let out a soft, breathy laugh, fingers curling into his shoulder for balance as you began to lower yourself. “See? Nothing to be nervous about.”

A deep groan escaped his lips the moment your walls tightened around him. “You make this seem easy.”

“Maybe you’re just a natural.”

He gave a low chuckle, but it caught in his throat when he felt the full length of his cock buried inside you. “I… ah… I think you’re the one making me look good.”

“Shut up,” you replied with a grin, burying your face in the crook of his neck. “You don’t need any help looking good right now, trust me.”

Spencer wasn’t entirely sure what to think about that. He’d never seen himself like this, not in the way you did. But when he glanced over your shoulder, catching a glimpse of the screen and the way your hips rolled over him, he started to believe it.

He looked like… well, like the porn he’d watched late at night in his room before you came along. But better. The kind that didn’t seem real, the kind that made him question if anyone actually had sex like that. He knew the vast majority of what’s portrayed in porn is exaggerated with only a small percentage even close to reality. Except this was real. It was really him, and you made it look like he knew what he was doing.

And sure, maybe he did in some way, albeit you being his only real experience. But that was the thing—he knew what made you tick. He could read the way your body reacted, knew the subtle cues that signaled when a whisper of his fingers could coax out a whimper or when the right shift of his hips would leave you trembling. And more than anything else, he knew how much you liked being watched.

He knew just how much it turned you on.

With that thought in mind, Spencer grabbed the firm swell of your ass and spread you open.

JadenCums: fuck yes FatCock69: she’s so wet BigdickXX: damn, I wish I could feel that pussy ILovePinkPrincess: spread her wider TommyGoode sent you a $200 giftDaddyDom92 sent you a $300 gift.

Your body squirmed beneath his hands.

“Babe… what are you doing?”

He ran his tongue over his lips. “Giving them what they want.”

Then he spread your flesh even further, fingers digging into your supple skin as he held you open. The sight was undeniably lewd, and yet he couldn’t deny the surge of pride swelling in his chest as he held you like this, putting you on full display. But more than that, it was what you wanted. The tension coiled in his muscles as he thrust his hips up, watching the movement play out in the reflection over his shoulder.

He could see everything. The slow drag of his cock, the way it stretched you open with each push, leaving no inch of you untouched. Every time he thrust up into you, his length came back slick and shining, catching the light for a split second before disappearing inside you again.

There was something hypnotic in the rhythm, in the way your body seemed to swallow him whole. And somewhere in that steady push and pull, you visibly clenched around him, a vice-like grip that sent a shudder through his body and pulled a deep, harsh groan from his throat.

His hands tightened their grip on you, and before he could think twice, his hips began moving faster. You squealed, an actual high-pitched sound that he hadn’t expected. It was almost cute in a way—if cute was even the right word for what was happening. But there was nothing cute about the way his body reacted to that sound.

His hips bucked upward, again and again by an instinct he couldn’t control. He was so lost in the sensation of your warm, slick pussy that he barely registered the rising tension in his own body. It wasn’t until his muscles locked up, his hips jerking with one final, forceful snap, that it all crashed over him.

Oh shit.

A sudden rush of heat coursed through him as he spilled inside you, the realization hitting him a second too late. His breath came in shallow gasps, a deep groan escaping his throat as pleasure overwhelmed him, leaving him stunned and gasping for air.

You paused, feeling the unmistakable warmth of his release slowly seep inside you. “Baby?”

His eyes widened. “I’m sorry,” he blurted, sliding his hands up your waist. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—that was—”

Fast didn’t even come close to describing what happened.

You cut him off with a soft laugh, shaking your head as your fingers gently cupped his jaw. “Oh, honey,” you cooed. “There’s nothing to apologize for.”

His eyes flickered to the camera behind you. “I ruined everything, didn’t I?”

You followed his gaze, then turned back to him with a smile. “Of course not,” you said softly, threading your fingers through his hair. “You kind of made everything better, actually.”

His brows knitted together. “I did?”

You nodded and wrapped your arms around his shoulders.

“Do you know…”

You started to roll your hips again.

“How hot it is…”

A soft squelch filled the air.

“To fuck with your cum inside me?”

He could barely comprehend the words that had just left your mouth, let alone the feeling of you moving against him. His eyelids struggled to stay open, the question catching in his throat before it spilled out in a breathy whisper. “Hot?”

“Insanely hot.”

Spencer couldn’t describe what happened after that. Obscene didn’t even begin to cover it. Surreal, maybe? But even that word felt lacking. It was all too real. You were rocking your hips on his lap, and the wet, sticky sounds filling the room were undeniably his own doing.

He held your hips tighter, half in an effort to steady himself, half because he didn’t know what else to do. The words were gone. Logic was gone. The only thing that existed was you, grinding against him with the same intensity that had already undone him once.

And he knew he was going to lose it again.

You leaned forward, your forehead pressing gently against his. “Spence, baby,” you whispered, making sure your voice was soft, just loud enough that only he could hear. “Can you fuck me again?”

He couldn’t say no even if he tried. His hands slipped beneath your thighs, fingers curling with just enough force to lift you, tilting your hips for better leverage. The shift pulled a startled gasp from you and you clung to him for balance, but he didn’t give you a moment to catch your breath. His hips met yours in a swift, demanding snap.

The sound of your body meeting was unmistakable, a rhythmic slap that would’ve made him blush if he were in any state to think clearly. But right now, all he could focus on was the mess he’d made of you, the way his cum seeped out, sliding down his cock in slow drips. Whenever he thrust into you, there seemed to be more spilling out, leaving thick, creamy streaks painted across your inner thighs.

Spencer had messy sex before (all with you, of course) but this was on a whole different level. It was chaotic—unapologetically filthy. The wetness between you spread everywhere. He could feel it pooling against his thighs, trickling down your legs, and the damp sheets beneath you were clinging uncomfortably to his knees while the heady scent of sex hit his nostrils.

And your voice wasn’t helping his self-control. It was high-pitched with a tremor, somewhere between a moan and a desperate whine tumbling out in a jumble of words that barely made any sense. Your voice grew higher each minute, more frantic, until finally, he could make out a few clear words through the haze.

“Gonna c-cum,” you moaned, “I’m gonna cu—ah fuck yesyesyes—”

A final, helpless cry pushed him over the edge.

He came for the second time tonight. He tried to hold back, but the way you were clenching around him, your body pulsing through your sudden orgasm tore down what little control he had left. He groaned, burying his face in your neck as his release overtook him again, shocked that he still had anything left to give as he emptied inside you.

The intensity bordered on painful. He could feel his body pushing to its limits and every pulse of pleasure felt like it was wringing him dry. And it was no less intense for you. You jerked against him, body twitching, sweat beading on your skin. Your muscles tightened and relaxed with the rhythm of his racing heartbeat as the last spark of pleasure finally washed over you.

Neither of you moved for a while after that. The only sound in the room was your labored breathing, the heavy rise and fall of your chests pressed together.

You were the first to break the silence.

“Baby,” you hummed, a soft, breathless laugh escaping your lips, “I think that might’ve been the hottest stream we’ve ever done.”

It took a second for your words to sink in, and when they did, his eyes widened slightly. The camera was still on. The audience was still there. His nose pressed harder against your neck as he tried to hide in embarrassment.

“Really? You’re getting shy now?“

His soft groan vibrated against your skin. “I wasn’t exactly thinking about the camera,” he mumbled, his voice muffled against your neck. “It left my mind the moment I… you know.”

You smiled, brushing your fingers through his hair. “Oh, I know. I could tell.”

You started to peel yourself off of him, only for his arms to tighten around your waist. You gave a playful tap on his shoulder.

“What are you doing?”

“Holding you.”

“Why?”

“My brain needs a moment to process this.”

Your hand danced aimlessly across his back. “Still embarrassed?”

“Mortified,” he confirmed.

A giggle slipped out of you, and you wiggled your hips. “We still need to clean up. I don’t think you want to stay like this forever.”

He let out a sound of protest but didn’t loosen his grip. “Just a few more minutes.”

Smiling at his stubbornness, you slid your fingers into his hair, letting your nails scrape lightly against his scalp. "Spencer," you said gently, making sure the mic didn't pick up your voice. “I need to turn off the cam.”

"They wouldn't mind watching us a little longer."

You sighed, feeling the undeniable stickiness between your thighs. It wasn’t the most comfortable feeling, and the warmth was quickly turning into a mess that would need attention sooner rather than later. But there was something so sweet about the way he wanted to hold you that it made it impossible to resist.

"Fine," you relented with a quiet laugh, "five more minutes."

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

35 / 2.1k / shark merman Price and remora mermaid reader for mermay :)

...

Price isn’t stupid. He knows you’ve been following him since the early morning as he makes the rounds through his favorite reef. You’re stealthing poorly—just poorly enough that he knows you’re there, but you’re still small enough to dart into the reef every time he tries to get a good look at you.

He's been ignoring you and hoping you’ll take the hint to buzz off before he makes you buzz off.

You think you’re getting the hang of sneaking up on him when you turn a corner and lose him. And then he’s sneaking up on you.

You peek around the bright lumps of coral, wondering where he’s gone, when something blots out the sunlight above. You look up to see him—the long expanse of muscle and bulk on top and the smooth shark’s tail below—as he peers down at you.

You stiffen, pressing yourself to the sandy sea floor.

He scans you with his dark eyes to determine just what kind of creature has been following him. Not a threat, decides. Even as a mer. You’re too small. Too soft. You have no teeth to speak of. How laughable. And a tiny little thing, at that.

You straighten up, watching him circle you. You’d been looking for an opportunity just like this. That’s why you were tailing him. But now that his shrewd gaze is finally on you, you feel exposed.

He takes his time inspecting you. Then he swims a wide arc around you once more and lowers his clawed as if to touch you. You force yourself to stay still, your tail curled under you on the sand.

“You’ve been following me,” he says. It’s not a question.

“Yes.”

Price hooks one of his claws under your chin and pulls your head lightly upwards. You slowly rise as he tilts your chin up until you're suspended in the water in front of him.

"You should be scared of me,” he says.

You settle your own hands on his wrist in contentment. You look less like a meal being evaluated and more like a kitten being scratched under the chin. "Would you like me to be scared?"

He chuckles at your enthusiasm. He knows exactly what this is. You're a remora mer, which means you instinctively seek out and bond with bigger creatures. Even if that creature is an unfriendly shark mer. Surely you must know how dangerous it is to be within his reach?

"You're very big. You must be king of this reef,” you say.

He pauses as the praise washes over him. He knows how intimidating he is, and you should realize you're nothing but small, soft and fragile. But obviously your instincts for fawning and flattery are finely honed.

He can see the way your little self seems to be drawn to him. A remora mer, indeed. He's seen others like you, but they've always avoided him. He could just as easily kill you as he could accept your company.

There is something pitifully adorable about you. The way you tilt your head and expose your throat unwittingly is endearing. He knows it’s because your instincts are leading you to bond with him for the safety he provides. You're too willing.

"Do you lack the common sense to fear an apex predator?" he asks, voice low and amused.

"Yes," you respond obediently.

He can see the way your little body is pressing up to his hand, desperate to get closer. He moves his arm, gently guiding you closer to him. "Good," he rumbles softly before using two claws to stroke down the curve of your neck. "Very good. You're too small to survive my teeth, you know."

"Of course. Much too small. Your teeth are so big and sharp."

"And you're soft and weak. Soft as a piece of kelp, I bet." He gives the tip of your tail a flick, and his eyes glitter as you bob and shake out your tail fin at the touch. Fussy little creature. "You're not very good at what you're supposed to do, little mer."

You open up your eyes. "I'm not?"

"Following me for hours without even trying to ingratiate yourself to me," he growls. "You're supposed to busy yourself with my needs. Not..." He trails off as you tilt up into his touch, almost nuzzling his hand. He gives your forehead a light flick with his claw to make you pay attention. "Acting like some kind of pet."

You quickly smooth yourself down. "Of course. I know that." You dart closer, putting your small hands on his inner arm, his shoulder, his chest, inspecting him. Your fingers glide over him, brushing and scratching and plucking away bits of sea debris and dry skin. Grooming him. "I just thought you might want me to be scared of you first."

Oh. He’s enjoying this far more than he thought he would. For something so soft, you’re quite bold.

He presses on your hip to turn you slightly as you work, idly inspecting you in return. "Maybe later. Let’s see if you’re worth the effort first." He rests his chin on his other hand to watch you fuss over him. It's been a long time since he had any kind of attention on him. You dart around behind him and busy yourself with his hair next.

He leans into your touch when you start to untangle his hair. "You seem to enjoy this.”

“I do.”

“Good for you,” he drawls. "Are you good for anything else?"

"I'm good for lots of things." You move from his hair down to his tail, trying not to stare.

"Oh?" He reaches up and idly drags the back of his knuckles down your spine and over the fin there. He smirks as your fin flattens with the touch. "Like what?"

"Anything you can think of."

"Anything?" He gives a low rumble in his throat at your words. "Don't go promising favors you can't fulfill, little remora."

"Okay," you chime.

He grabs ahold of your tail fins. "And don't agree with every single thing I say, either. That makes you far too easy to manipulate."

"Yes, sir!"

He rolls his eyes. You really are a pushover. It's like you want him to be cruel to you. He lets go of your tail but twirls his fingers in the tip of your tailfins. "Is it your instincts that are making you so deferential? Or are you just a coward?"

You pretend to think about this for a moment. Then you respond, pleasantly, "Which do you prefer?"

"Mm, so you do have a brain."

"Me? No, surely that can't be. Not a thought in my head, sir. Promise."

He eyes you like a disobedient puppy. You're putting on this fairly convincing act, being a mindless, servile little thing, and it's confusing his instincts to know you're doing a fair bit of manipulation yourself to win his protection.

"Might prefer you a bit more brainless, actually," he says. He nudges the underside of your chin with his knuckle this time instead of his claw, noting how you drop what you were doing to follow the gesture as he guides you out in front of him again. "You're willing to do anything I ask, then? No questions?"

"Yes, sir.” You rest your much smaller body against his forearm again. “Anything.”

He looks down at how you submit willingly to his hand, taking in the sight of your small body pressed up against it. He feels something primal coil in his gut at the display. You let yourself fall under his control so easily. "What if I told you to open your mouth like a goldfish?" He brings his thumb up to your lip. "Would you?"

You open your mouth.

Interesting. He taps your lower lip with the tip of his thumb. "Wide," he murmurs. "Open up wide for me."

You open wider.

"Now bite."

You bite down around the tip of his thumb.

His lips twitch up into a smile at the feeling of you nibbling at him, the little scrape of your teeth. "Good. Harder."

You reposition your grip and chomp down in earnest this time. He grunts. Your teeth are smaller than his, but they're still sharp.

"There you go. Not bad for such a small mouth." He pulls it away, half-expecting you to start hollowing your cheeks on his thumb if he dawdles too long. "Have you ever had to deal with bigger fish?"

"Of course," you chirp. Like it's no big deal.

Price snorts. It's hard to imagine something like you doing anything but darting behind the nearest rock at the first sign of danger. “How many have you killed?"

"None."

"Right, I'm sure you ask them nicely to leave you alone," he says. "And do they listen?”

"Sometimes they do. Sometimes they don't."

"And when they don't, what do you do? Do you fight back? Do you give up?"

"Well..." You wring your hands briefly. "You're going to handle it now, right? So what does it matter?"

"It matters to me." For some reason, the thought of you trying to fight back against a larger fish makes him restless. "You still need to know how to defend yourself."

You frown. "You're not going to do it for me?"

He scoffs, but you're starting to make him feel something close to concern for you. He doesn't know why the thought of you being defenseless irks him so. "Are you really that helpless? Are you really so soft that you just want me to fight all your battles for you?"

"I mean, you're a shark."

He huffs irritably at that, his annoyance with you outweighed by his annoyance with himself for feeling concerned over you. "Do you think I'm going to do everything for you just because I'm bigger and stronger?"

You smile at him, pleased.

Ah. He's the fool suddenly. He grabs you around the waist with just one of his big hands and brings you close, his voice lowering in warning. "Stop smiling, little fish."

"Okay," you chime.

"I told you to stop sounding so bloody agreeable. You make me want to bite you." He lifts you up in front of him to get a clearer look at your face. Your eyes are too wide, your smile is too sweet, your body is too flimsy. It's all infuriating to him. He’s been roaming the ocean a long time and he's grown comfortably hard and cold. You’re not changing that. "You have no self-preservation instincts at all, do you? You're just going to get yourself killed one day."

You settle into his hand comfortably. "Maybe so. Can I get you anything else, boss?"

You're hopeless, he decides. With how sweet and docile you are, he feels something clawing at the inside of his chest the longer he holds you.

Instead of answering you, he fits you against his chest, into the crook of his arm. There. Better. He can keep you closer this way without having to look at your silly doe eyes.

“Not now,” he says finally. “Maybe later.”

You lean into the position, tucking into the side of his chest like you're making yourself at home. "Okay, boss."

He can’t decide if he likes you calling him that or not. He can feel the way you nestle against him, settling in comfortably and making no effort to resist. You really are too easy to control. Just a little pull and you're molded against his side. He feels you start to smooth down some of his chest scales without even thinking. Grooming him. Nice and clean. Little busybody.

He's not used to being pampered, but feeling the tension start to bleed from his muscles under your touch… maybe it’s not so bad. He glances down at you, wondering how you're able to look so contented tucked up against him. His chest rumbles as you scratch near his throat. He lets his muscles relax under your hand.

You're an annoying little thing--too innocent, too naive, too sweet, and he conveniently forgets how capable you are of convincing him of that to win him over--but it's been too damn long since he's allowed himself to be comforted.

Maybe it would be alright to let you stay with him for a little while.

...

more Price / more mer au / masterlist tag

[silverflqmes]

Hai!! I was wondering if you’d be able/want to/feel comfortable with writing a nsfw cloud x reader? Maybe something sweet, like their first time together as a couple. If you don’t like the request is fine ! I hope you’re having a great day :]

໒⦂ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓.

notes. hi anon, i have not written nsfw in some centuries so i hope this is decent cuz i definitely lost my touch😭 i wrote the reader as female since that’s what i’m used to writing, given i’m.. well, a girl😵‍💫 hope that’s okay with you</3

genre. nsfw + fluff

tw. virginity loss, hand job, fingering, riding, slight uh pillow princess cloud in the beginning..

disclaimer. uncomfortable with smut or younger than 17? please dni.

cloud strife x fem!reader

it was quarter to midnight and the blond still could not find it in himself to sleep. not that he ever could, anyway.. but since he’d gotten with you, sleep came just a little more easily and the nightmares became less frequent.

tonight, however, was a slightly different case.

“cloud..” you mumbled sleepily, lifting your head from his back when you felt him shift against your hold. “still can’t sleep?”

remembering your presence, he blinked in the darkness, feeling your hand on his stomach, which he gently took ahold of, kissing the back of it. “sorry, having a hard time..” he paused to think of a vague excuse, if only to mask his embarrassment. “getting um, comfortable, right now.. nothing to do with you, though.”

his cheeks were twinged with pink under the sliver of moonlight that spilled into your shared bedroom through the curtains, but thankfully hidden from your stare.

while he had said it was strange for him to be the ‘little spoon’, part of him was grateful that he was now..

a pout came to your lips as you urged him to turn over, but he wouldn’t budge — adamant on not being seen. something was.. off. really off.

“cloud, come on- you can tell me. you know i won’t judge you for whatever reason that’s preventing you from sleeping.” you assured, smoothing the hand he wasn’t holding over his arm, comfortingly.

he shuddered unknowingly at the touch, hyper aware of your proximity to him — the way your body had pressed against his back and your light breathing on his neck now.

the fabric confinements constricted in protest, and he willed himself not to make any noises that gave away his sensitivity. why did it have to hit him tonight so suddenly? was it that lack of battling, with his arch nemesis no longer threatening the planet?

“i-it’s nothing.” he shook his head, attempting to steady his tone, but his facade was faltering. “just.. go back to bed, i should fall asleep in a moment or — a-aah.. aaah.”

panic crossed your features at the noise he made as you let go him within seconds, finally catching a glimpse of his expression to see he was not wincing out of agony.. but of pleasure?

curiously, your eyes slid down to his lower half to find him squeezing his legs together for dear life. oh.

“c-cloud, are you — ”

“yes-! fuck, i am..” he breathed out, turning his head to hide his shame in the pillow, but you turned him back over without harming him, pursing your lips together.

“y’know,” you began, heaving a sigh. “you could’ve just said you were feeling things- it’s a normal thing.. instead you had me thinking you had a bad dream again or something.” you shook your head, relief washing over you despite your scolding.

the former mercenary kept his gaze elsewhere, grumbling quietly under his breath. “it’s not so easy to say ‘i’m horny, do something about it’. feels awkward, okay.”

you found yourself rolling your eyes before you pushed yourself up, lavender colored sheets sliding off your body as you moved to situate yourself between his legs. “i suppose it’s blunt, but i don’t mind it. we’ve been together for over a year now.. and have known each other for several more.” you reminded him tenderly, leaning down to peck his lips softly. “if you needed ever needed to.. indulge.. i’m more than willing to do so, at your consent.”

cloud found himself shuddering at the words that spilled over his rosy appendages, rouge splashing across his his nose and cheeks at your boldness. while you had been confident, in contrast to how he behaved and presented himself.. this was a side he had yet to see from you — and goodness.

“but- it’s late..” he muttered back, aware that you had to wake up early to help tifa out at seventh heaven by daybreak. it was tedious work and he knew you weren’t one for getting up at first light.. cutting into your sleep felt criminal.

however your expression seemed unchanging, having made up your mind already, from what he concluded.

“and?” you pressed, hovering over his face. “i won’t be that long, and besides — we live in a society where coffee exists.” you reminded him, clicking your tongue before placing a hand on his hip. “i’ll be fine.”

his back nearly arched at the light caress, but he forced himself to be completely still, eyeing you with furrowed brows for a moment longer before exhaling. “are you.. sure about this?”

a quiet laugh tumbled past your lips as a knowing smile crossed your lips. “would i be offering to help if i wasn’t?”

it was a fair point, and although cloud wanted to continue denying himself for the sake of you getting rest.. he found himself succumbing to his intrusive thoughts the more he stared up at you.

“i guess not.” the blond concurred after a brief silence on his end, averting his mako tinted hues. “you’re not gonna let this go, are you?”

the eager shake of your head was enough of an answer as he closed his eyes in defeat. “okay, fine.. just take it easy on me, it’s..” he paused, pursing his lips together.

“your first time?” you finished in a hum before letting out a giggle when he didn’t answer. “it’s okay, i thought so.” you assured him, hooking your thumbs onto the waistband of his boxer briefs. “if it gets too much, you can tell me.”

a nod of confirmation was all that was needed for you to fully tug down his undergarments, a hiss leaving your lover’s lips as the frigid air caressed his most intimate part.

gingerly, you wrapped your hands around his shaft, never missing the gasp he failed to suppress as you pumped him slowly.

cloud’s hand flew to cover his mouth, eyes squeezing tighter as wave of ecstasy washed over him — gradually erasing the previous discomfort he’d felt.

in all his years, other than that massage back at the wall market of sector six, he’d never been touched in a way like this. a manner that sent bolts and sparks of pleasure down his spine, electrifying him in every possible way.

but the spiky haired male was too shy to ask for help on the rare occasions that he’d found himself pent up. all that fighting quelled any need for sexual release.. but now, with little to no battles to partake in these days, those late nights he’d spend away on deliveries were often occupied by his hand.

“f-fuck, y/n..!” he breathed out, feeling his legs tremble from the pleasure you had created.

you continued at an even pace, sliding your attention back over to boyfriend’s features when he called your name out. “does it feel good?” the answer was abundantly clear, though you felt the need to ask, anyway. couldn’t hurt to be safe.

he nodded his head rapidly, flushed skin glimmering under the glow of the moon. “ngh- f-faster, a-aaah~ please..” he whispered back pleadingly, tears gathering at the corners of his lashes.

it was truly a sight to behold — a part of cloud no one else had witnessed but you. and you had been the reason for his expressions, the noises he made — his reactions.. all of it was by your work.

wanting him to reach his high, to see the stars you had hoped he would see on your first time together, you quickened your ministrations, rolling your thumb over his tip. it was a little adventurous, but his moans was all the encouragement you needed to continue.

in an attempt to address your own aching heat, you slipped two fingers into the thin fabric of your panties, dragging them over your aching bundle of nerves before sliding them into your entrance.

a prolonged sigh escaped your lips, feeling your walls loosen around your fingers with each thrust while your partner became undone at the mixture of his own euphoria and the mere sight of you.

it made him strangely jealous, as he wanted to be the one to please you.

with a shaky breath, he reached down into the drawer of his nightstand for a familiar packet, carefully tearing it open when your breathing transitioned into panting.

you hadn’t even noticed that the self proclaimed ex-SOLDIER removed your hand from his cock, nor had you caught sight of him sliding a condom over himself.

no, it wasn’t until he grabbed your hips and brought you forward that you’d removed your hands at the brush of his tip against your clit, grasping ahold of his shoulders as a whine left your lips. “h-haahh~ cloud..” you drawled out in a needy beg, arching your back just slightly.

and that was all he needed to take you at last, sheathing himself slowly into your warmth.

he brought you impossibly closer to him at the squeeze of you against him, a staggered pant spilling past his appendages as he buried his face into your neck. “s-shit — was that too much?”

“n-no!” you refuted a little louder than planned, shaking your head. “j-just, one second.. a-and you can move..”

despite his worry, he took your word for it, exhaling lowly as he felt you shift.

with another sigh, you rested your chin on his shoulder, allowing yourself to nod. “o-okay, i’m good..”

cloud took it as a sign to continue as he pulled out slowly before plunging back into your core at an equal pace, steadily falling into an appropriate rhythm.

the stars you had thought of before in regards to cloud’s pleasure entered your vision at last when he nailed that special spot of yours.

“a-aahh~! cloud-!”

your whines and cries of his name was fueling enough to continue hitting that same spot, feeling you crash down on him harder.

“almost.. t-there..” he reassured you quietly, and perhaps even himself as well.

the knot coiling in your stomach was on the verge of snapping, one thrust away from unraveling completely.

in light of that, cloud captured your lips in a climatic kiss, swallowing your cries of elation when you met your end at last.

covered in a sheen of sweat, the blond gave you two more thrusts before removing himself from your dipping heat, allowing you to collapse against him.

his breath was far from even, yours no better than his own as he gazed up at the ceiling, eyes half lidded. “we should.. probably clean up..”

a tired laugh escaped you, having put together several other phrases he could have started with.. but then you reminded yourself that this was cloud strife — your very awkward, but adorable boyfriend.

“don’t w-worry,” you assured, sucking in another dose of air. “we will..”

notes. good grief i haven’t written smut in ages, i hope this was decent.. i feel like i’ve lost my touch😔 but wishing you a great day too, anon! along with anyone else reading this filth🫡

↳ return to main masterlist . request rules . send an ask

[junislqve]

afterglow ✶ jake

𝓢. you didn’t realize how much you still needed him, luckily he’s always been yours.

pairs ex!jake x reader content kissing profanity angst fluff self indulgent hooray not proofread wordcount 681 CATALOGUE

well i got lazy to proofread 🙁 thought of jake biting bread while writing this maybe im a little sick

REBLOG if you enjoyed!

you didn’t know how you ended up at this situation. sprawled on jake’s lap as he he held you in place, his hands firmly gripping your waist.

all you could remember was a few hours ago you got a call from jake’s sister, begging you to check up on jake as he wasn’t picking up her calls.

you knew she had been busy lately, packed with work and her engagement she barely had any time to do anything else.

so with a heavy heart, you walk up to the apartment you know all-too-well. up the elevator you’ve stepped in countless times, every corner haunting you with memories.

and just as you braced yourself to knock on his door, it clicked open.

jake raised his head, his eyes meeting yours.

“y/n?”

“hi” your voice was hoarse, you cleared up your throat “missed me?”

after putting out his trash jake invited you in, his place was dimly lit. it was midnight, you didn’t expect any less.

“your sister’s worried about you” you voice out, looking around. not much has changed, the place looked neat, untouched almost. “you should answer her calls” you turn to him, his eyes were already on you.

“my phone broke”

“you should tell her that”

the silence engulfed you both. it wasn’t uncomfortable, but you grew accustomed to it, trying to avoid him anyway.

you knew he was fine, you could already leave now. his sister didn’t ask for anything more than just confirmation that be was alive and well.

“why’d you leave?”

you had it coming.

“what?”

“it was great between us, i thought we were going to be together for long. i thought you loved me”

truth be told, you knew you were selfish. you knew the reason you both had broken up was just because you felt like you were going to suffocate him in the future. it was just a lingering feeling inside of you that couldn’t have left you alone.

so you made up a dumb excuse just to get it over with. just so he couldn’t hurt you before you did.

“i do” true. “i did” false. “it wasn’t-“

you felt it in motion when the power went out and everything went dark. it was pitch black, and the living room had no windows for sunlight.

out of panic, you yelp when you felt a warm hand slide its way towards your waist, your first thought was to push it.

and that brings us to the top.

you couldn’t tell how far jake’s face was from yours but maybe the warm breath on your lips could give you an idea. your arms were planted on his shoulders as his were on your waist.

“the power’s out” he mumbles

“yeah no shit sherlock” it was supposed to come out more sarcastic but barely made past a whisper.

jake’s thumb rubbed smoothing circles on your exposed skin, the warmth from his hand spreading through every corner of your body.

“jake”

he hums, his voice low. it reverberated all throughout your body, lingering.

“i still love you”

and that’s all that it takes for him to trail his hands up to cup your jaw. his lips moving against yours in a rhythm. his lips were soft, you forgot how much you missed this.

he was passionate, savoring every inch of your lips. the taste of your cherry lip gloss addicting to him.

his other hand raised to the nape of your neck, as yours circled his, tugging at his loose hair.

you both only let go when it was hard to breath. face flushed even it you both couldn't see it, chest heaving.

and you felt like it was a shame that you couldn’t see his rose-tinted cheeks and his pink lips. and maybe how blown out his eyes were.

jake only chuckled softly a few seconds later, his head landing on your shoulder.

“i missed you” he says, mumbling against your clothes, his grip on your waist, tightening.

and maybe at that moment you realized you’d give it all up for him once again.

© junislqve 2024. liking, commenting, and rebloging are appreciated.

[bellewintersroe]

Fernando Alonso x YoungerReader! Smut

HEAVY use of ‘daddy’, smut 18+, vaginal sex, oral sex (both receiving) fingering, squirting, anal play, choking, spanking, masturbation, everything ok. Reader is younger than Alonso (no age specified) who is friends with her dad, and the two engage in a secret, sexual relationship. Semi-public sex ensues and Nando fucks reader up against the door that people are trying to get in. Readers a massive tease and gets a kick from getting Fernando off in public.

It started when she’d followed Fernando around the corner, fixing his tie and collar for him when he leaned in and kissed her tenderly. Fernando didn’t know what to expect, he thought he’d massively overstepped a boundary, but little did he realise that y/n was going to kiss him back with twice as much need. He’d had his eye on the young girl on the past 6 months since the 2023 GP kicked off and he worked around her dad often. She was younger than him, it wasn’t anything inappropriate, but the positions they were both in wasn’t exactly a recipe for success. Fernando didn’t care, neither did y/n. For the first time in years Fernando felt excited, passionate, horny- he hadn’t felt so strongly towards a woman in as long as he could remember. The naughty texts he’d get from her, the images, the videos, he felt like his heart, body and soul was owned by her. He was uncontrollably infatuated with y/n and the younger woman felt the same towards him. She’d sit in the chair, smiling and sighing towards him like something out of a Hollywood film. Fernando felt desired, and when he smirked towards her, she felt the exact same way back.

In one particular, very boring meeting (that she was supposed to be listening to) she placed her index finger up to her lips, grazing over the soft area delicately. As she did, she noticed Fernando with eyes already focused on her. They were locked on her and only her. The way her finger that had been inside her only hours prior grazed over her lips. Fernando would die for them to be inside his own mouth, sucking off her sweet juices. He felt his cock jump from just thinking about it.

She bit down on her finger, offering him a smile before her eyes fell to the front of the room, sucking ever so slightly on the tip of her finger. Fernando adjusted himself, attempting to glimpse to what was occurring in the meeting, but he couldn’t turn away from her for any amount of time.

His head snapped back to see her crossing her legs, squeezing them together, the bare skin being so smooth and tanned. He imagined sinking his teeth into the flesh, spanking and then kissing over her thighs, hearing her squeal in a pained pleasure. His cock jumped again, this time there was so adjusting himself to make the issue less well- prominent. He could feel the way his cock was strangled by his pants, strained and aching against the confinements of his trousers.

Y/n’s eyes fell on the area that Fernando evidently tried to cover up. Offering him a sheepish smile, her heart fluttered as she proudly sat, knowing she could make him hard over barely anything. She writhed her legs together again, positive nobody else in the room would pick up on her subtly acts. She reached out, hand wrapping around her water bottle, grazing her hand down before taking a few sips, her lips gliding over her lips afterwards, picking up any stray drops of water. Fernando’s mind went back to the image of her licking his cum clean off his spilling cock, it dripped down her lips and chin deliciously as he exploded his seed inside her mouth.

Oh no. Fernando thought, feeling an uncomfortable stickiness gather against his pubic bone. He was leaking again thinking about her. For a moment he forgot he was a grown man. Slowly, Y/n slid up from her chair, Fernando and some of the other men’s eyes fell onto her ass as she made her way out of the room quietly, smiling innocently. Fernando gulped, wondering if that was an invitation for him to follow. His head snapped back and forth from her and then back to her father who was busy holding the meeting. He’d be busy for at least another two hours, thought Fernando. Gaining the confidence, the driver kept a hand over his crotch, excusing himself quietly before hurrying down the hall, the brush of his pants against his cock making him wince. He needed to be free, and fast. He pulled out his phone desperate to hear from her, only his eyes popped out of his head seeing the video she’d sent him only a minute prior.

Fernando eyed up the empty hall, turning down his volume to a low setting before playing the video and seeing it was her, sat on a couch of a small meeting room, pants off and fingers rubbing over her clothed clit. Fernando could faintly hear her soft pants, and had to stabilise himself from fainting at the pure bliss of receiving such a video.

Y/n: hurry the door is unlocked I’m in the same one from yesterday

Fernando’s body moved faster than his legs could take him and he was overwhelmingly quick to reach the room. He had to take a breath to compose himself, entering the room with a hitched jaw seeing her sat, legs pressed together under a blanket and a shy look covering her face. Thank God it was Fernando, she thought, and not some other person who accidentally stumbled into the room.

Fernando completely forgot to the lock the door, not that that would matter straight away, but he quite literally was gobsmacked when the blanket fell and she spread her legs, pushing her hand down over the lace of her pants, sighing as she rubbed over her aching pussy.

How Fernando didn’t cum there and then in his pants he’d never know. He looked so good, she thought, her head tilting back and to the side with a soft sigh of his name. His black polo tucked into his black pants, arms bulging out at the bicep, similar to how his cock pressed at the seams of his pants.

With the moan of his name, Fernando fell to his knees, a gentle smile tugging on his lips as he reached out, taking a hold of either outside of her legs, rubbing down the soft skin. “La mejor sorpresa.” (The best surprise) he hushed, pressing a longing yet tender kiss to the sensitive of her flesh. Y/n exhaled gently, continuing to rub gently, hips gyrating up and down ever so slightly. She was captivated with his Spanish words, the glisten in his hazel eyes. Her movements were relaxed with a second kiss to her inner thigh.

“My love.” He hushed in his husky voice, resting his cheek and temple to her legs as he gazed up to her. The moment was gentle, yet overwhelmingly sensual. His eyes trailed down to where she pleasured herself and he unconsciously pressed his crotch harder against the edge of the couch.

Y/n let out a soft hum, a slight plea for him to touch her. He slid his hands forwards, taking her underwear by the waistband and slowly pulling them off, tossing them to one side. “Necesito este coño.” (I need this pussy) he hushed, kissing her pussy lips gently. “Te necesito.” (I need you) Fernando whispered again, spreading her lips a little further and licking a stripe up between her folds. His tongue was hot and wet, flicking over her clit which sent a sigh of relief to leave her lips.

“What’re you saying, Nando?” Her voice broke on an inhale when he wrapped his lips around her pussy, sucking gently, her hips lolling forwards. “How much I need you and this pussy.” The Spaniard rasped against her, lips moving against her skin as she spoke. She was sticky from wetness, Fernando wanted to lick it clean. He imagined how badly she was squirming in her underwear at the meeting, her thongs dripping with her juices.

“Mh, you’re all I can think about.” She airily spoke. In response, Fernando ate her out, gently, but steadily. Her hand came up, swiping her hair out of her face like she was in a movie, Fernand’s eyes glued to her. “Fuck… yes.” She exhaled out in response, fingers stroking through his dark strands of hair. Fernando wanted to feel the tug of her fingers against his scalp, the scratch of his nails down the tattoo on his back.

Fernando flattened his tongue, swiping all over her pussy, letting out a grunt in appreciation as he hooked her thigh over his shoulders, delving deeper. The sound of her moan cracking had him going crazy, he slurped and sighed against her drenched core, spitting and adding a finger to the mix. Her sounds were pure bliss, she gasped and begged for more, fingering at his hair, his shirt which had pulled loose from his pants.

“Fernando… fuck, Nando, Nando, Nando.” She wept out his name like a mantra, still remaining relatively quiet. Fernando didn’t want quiet, he knew this area of the hotel would remain virtually empty, he wanted her screaming, cock hungry for more of him. After one particular sharp pull on his hair, Fernando let out a moan, eyes rolling back and voice vibrating against her aching pussy, he pulled back and bit firmly into the flesh of her thigh.

“Please.” Her hips bucked, and she yanked him by the hair back into her vagina. Fernando felt the ache of his cock now, painful in his pants, he thrusted slightly against the couch, rubbing the his cock up and down against the plush material.

Fernando brought his fingers up, pushing one into her hole with no warning. “Fuck!” She squealed, hand snatching the couch, nails digging into the material as he pushed the digit in and out of her. “Oh my god!” She moaned in a pornographic manner. Fernando smirked, this is exactly what he wanted from the younger woman.

Her hips were jumping so Nando pushed a hand against her hip bone, pinning her into the couch whilst finger fucking her with his other hand. Y/n felt the sensitive fuck of his digits against her g-spot and knew she wouldn’t last long. He sucked and licked like a desperate man against her pussy, hand moving up to pin at her throat as her moans became distorted through the lack of air.

The familiar tightness built and the squelch of her wet pussy was soon replaced with a gushing as she came undone, both with her orgasm and squirting all over Fernando’s hand. He growled, continuing to finger her over the edge as she screamed out, unable to take anymore. Anybody listening in would think there was an exorcism taking place. “Fernando, please!” She begged as he removed his finger, lapping up her spilt juices, hands moving down to unbuckle his belt desperately. “Oh fuck, fuck, fuck!” She choked out, tormented by the over simulation. Fernando quickly freed his cock, wiping the back of his arm against his chin and mouth before moving down to kiss her with an undeniable want. “Let me fuck you.” He grunted, jerking his hand back and fourth over his cock that had been deprived for so long.

“You don’t want to fuck my mouth first?” She giggled, Fernando paused, panting harshly before kissing her firmly again. “Please, please, I want your cock in my mouth.”

“You want that?” Fernando grabbed her hair, forcing her to look up at him. Y/n grinned through her excitement, the pain of his fistful around her hair making her pussy throb all over again.

“I want it so bad, Fernando.” He kissed her once, twice again, before pushing her down to her knees where she gagged herself on his erection, stuffing her mouth as full as she could have his large cock. Fernando immediately let out an animalistic groan at her hot mouth around his aching member. Her mouth felt so good, too good, almost as good as her tight little pussy.

She moaned around his length, gazing up through those pretty eyelashes as Fernando stared at the youthful woman. From this angle he could see to her breasts down her top, the swell of them in her bra, pushed together, he wanted to spill his seed all over them. Fernando’s mouth was open, face was red and he began sweating with eyebrows knitted together as Y/n watched him, sucking up and down on him.

Her cheeks hollowed out, she drooled down his cock, taking a handful of his balls, delighted to hear the many moans, pants and grunts that Fernando unleashed. She teased, running her wet tongue all down the base of his cock and over his head, over his balls, going excruciatingly slow, “why don’t you take charge, you know I like it when you are.” She giggled, sucking his tip lightly. Fernando’s voice cracked as his head fell back in pure bliss.

“Are you sure?”

“Please… please daddy.” She hushed out the next words and Fernando felt so filthy- in the best way. “Say it again.” He snatched at her jaw, “daddy.” The pet name caused him to pop a gentle smack over her cheek, one that made her grin before he yanked her chin open and began thrusting into her mouth. “Ah- shit- ah mierda!” He cursed in both English and his native tongue, hips jittering when he felt her take him all the way down her throat. Y/n’s nose was pressed to Alonso’s freshly trimmed pubic bone, she gagged slightly and Fernando pulled off with another loud groan.

“Are you ok?” He held her face, seeing the tears formed in her eyes from choking on his cock. “So good.” She confirmed as he smiled, lifting her up to her wobbly feet.

“You know you are good at that.” The man flirted, beginning to unbutton at her blouse, ripping it off before moving to her bra. “I know.” She teased with a giggle, the two of them sharing another kiss. “Where do you want me? Bent over?” She moved up and around to his ear, standing on her toes to kiss at his neck, jaw and earlobe.

“Yes.” Fernando breathed, tossing her bra to one side before taking a handful of the swell of her perfect breasts. “You can have me however you want.” She whispered, sending shudders down his back, the two of them sharing another heated, open mouthed kiss before she pulled at his shirt, freeing him and exposing his bare, toned abdomen.

Fernando twisted her by the hips, her body completely nude for him as he planted a spank to her ass- not too hard, he didn’t want to hurt her. “Harder.” She moaned in response when his palm caught her ass a little harder. Alonso moved down, licking a swipe all the way from her pussy to her asshole, delving in the area once again. It was irresistible, she was irresistible, and when his cock squelched inside the wetness of her tight little hole, Fernando thought he’d faint.

“Oh, Fernando!” She whined, petite frame pushed over the back of the couch as she arched her back, he continued fucking into her, sending a few slaps over her ass and thighs in the process. “Daddy, please.” She begged, reaching back. Fernando grunted, snatching her hair and pulling her back as he leaned forwards, catching a kiss to her forehead as she panted, breathless from the sex.

Fernando’s hand palmed at the flesh he’d slapped, smoothing the area and relaxing his hold in her head to hold under her chin, his lips pressed to the top of her head tilted back.

“Eres mi buena chica, ¿no? Qué buena chica sucia, rebotando así en mi polla.” (You’re my good girl, aren’t you? Such a good, dirty girl bouncing on my cock like that).That’s when the Spanish dirty talk happened and Y/n thought she’d pass out from pure ecstasy. “Yes, yes, yes.” She let out a low whine as Fernando knelt on the couch, resting his arms on the back, besides her body. His face was close to hers now as he bucked into her slowly.

“Yes?” He laughed. “You know what I’m saying?” Fernando grinned, kissing her cheek and pressing a second kiss to her lips as she giggled breathlessly.

“No, but I can guess.” She hummed. “I bet you can.” He panted in response, pulling her up my both her arms and continuing the same brutal pace as earlier. Her cries and whines continued as Nando breathed heavily, grunting through the building pleasure he felt. Her pussy was the tightest he’d felt, so warm and wet, he fit inside perfectly. He was meant for her.

As the two were evidently occupied, they didn’t hear the footsteps gaining towards the door- and no it wasn’t Y/n’s father- thank god. But instead, the handle jiggled, a businessman from the meeting looking for the bathroom. Fernando reacted quick, slamming his hand against the door and locking it. Y/n laughed, turning over her shoulder in surprise. Fernando let out a breath of relief before smiling towards her and gesturing her over. “Fuck, Nando, did you not lock the door?” She brushed her hair out of her face. The man simply shrugged with a sheepish smile and she playfully nudged him.

He reached down, grabbing her thighs and wrapping them around his waist, pressing her back to the cold door in which people were trying to get into. “Fernando! It’s cold!” “Shhh.” He teased, slipping easily back inside her dripping pussy. Her mouth opened and eyes glazed over again, this time, Fernando couldn’t stop staring at her beauty. His lips made his way to hers and their sounds were muffled by the kisses and the hitting of her back against the door. “Fuck!” As their love making continued they became careless, loud again, the door was rattling and Fernando began drilling into the girl who clutched at his shoulders, nails digging into her back.

“Nando!” She wept, her body tensing, coil tightening in her abdomen. “Not my name.” The sweating man grunted as she moaned out again. “Daddy.” She cried out instead which only spurred him further. One arm wrapped around her lower hips, whilst the other pulled down on her shoulder, stuffing his cock as deep inside of her pussy as possible.

“Gonna cum- fuck! I want you to come too.” She gasped, leaving a particularly harsh scratch in his back. Nando growled before pulling her hair to one side, his fist shaking as he chased his orgasm.

“Please, please, please!” She pleaded, fingers rubbing against her clit as she bounced aimlessly with every thrust. “Yes.” Fernando choked out. “Yes, yes, cum for me- I’m gonna- Mierda- I’m cumming.” His jaw tensed as he let out an animalistic groan of pure bliss through his teeth before he was thrown over the edge, her orgasm approaching soon after.

Their sighs of relief mixed with yells and groans of pleasure settled down, and feeling the drip of his cum from her pussy, Fernando let out a small sound, moving her gently and laying her down on the couch. “Mh-” before he could move she held onto his arm, the man chose to settle down besides her, kissing her tenderly and plugging a finger inside the hole he’d just filled with his cum.

“You did good.” He whispered, leaving a longing kiss to her temple, and another on her lips. “Nando.” She innocently whispered, fingers trailing through his hair. He glanced down, inspecting her leaking pussy as he pushed his finger in gently. Y/n whined slightly but Nando soothed her with gentle shushes.

“I bet your dad doesn’t know what kind of a bad girl you are.” He muttered as she giggled, swatting his arm slightly. Fernando rested on his side, admiring her beauty with a hand under his head, elbow prompted onto the couch. He felt bad for whoever had to sit here after.

“My good girl.” He then smiled as they shared another kiss. He brought his finger up, to her lips and she stuck her tongue out, sucking him clean. Fernando could have sworn he was ready for round two immediately, entranced by how sensual and purely beautiful Y/n was.

[dammn-dean]

Hii could you do Simon and his wife arguing like pretty badly and their shouting at each other as their arguing she hears her newborn cry and once she goes to the baby room and feeds looks after her baby she didn’t wanna go downstairs to talk to him she just went on her phone on social media.

(If you’re okay with doing that!)

Thank you so much for the request! I hope that this is what you wanted... I changed it up a little, but I still think it fits the request. Thanks again 🖤

Whispers and Words

Pairing: Ghost (Simon Riley) x Female Reader

Words: Almost 3k (oops)

Warnings: Reader is a new mom, Simon is a bit mean/clueless, reader is insecure, arguing, barely there sexual talk if you squint

Staring back at your reflection in the mirror, a small smile on your lips. You felt like you looked nice. A very casual, but cute dress adorned your body for the first time in a long time. Your baby went down for bed already, giving you a little extra time to yourself to shower and get ready for Simon to get home. You even fixed your hair and put on a little make-up. You felt good.

There really hasn’t been much time over the past 6 months for you to treat yourself, much less dress up. Having a newborn was a full time job! Simon had been gone almost the entire time, not by choice but because of work. You weren’t sure if that was supposed to make you feel any better, because.. Well it really didn’t. You missed him so much, and he missed so many things your baby was accomplishing. Getting bigger by the day. He was home off and on for a combined maybe 4 weeks the past 6 months, two weeks straight after she was born and a few days here and there since. All of that felt like it didn’t even really matter at the moment, your Simon should be home any minute now. 

You had decided to spend the time you had getting ready, which didn’t really leave you a lot of time to cook for him like you had wanted. Instead you settled on ordering in from a few of his favorite places, so he would have plenty to eat over the next couple of days. Simon was always a big eater, and you hoped you could get to the market to buy groceries in the next day or two. You loved cooking for him, and he loved eating your food. As much as you would love for him to come home to a big home cooked meal, this would work just fine. The last bit of food you ordered arrived not long ago, so you started moving some food to serving dishes. You hoped it would make it easier on him, just get home and dig in. 

Simon was due home about an hour ago, which had you a little worried. You sent him a text about 30 minutes ago, a simple, “You okay?” with no response. You felt crazy checking your phone every other minute, seeing if there was a call or text from him. Nothing yet. You stood from the stool you were perched at, tired of staring at the now cold food. You decided as an attempt to salvage the meal, you moved some food to baking dishes, turned the oven to keep warm and began boxing up the rest for later. Your back was to the door as you had placed the last of the food in the fridge when you heard the sound of a key entering the front door. 

Giddiness filled your body, a smile on your lips as you quickly shut the refrigerator door and made your way to the living room. Smoothing your dress nervously as he entered through the doorway.

Simon takes a couple steps in the house, pausing by the door to slip his mask over his head and set it on the side table there for the sole purpose of holding his mask. His eyes then search around the flat looking for you. His tired eyes fall on you with a small smile on his lips. You don’t miss the way his eyes flutter down your frame with slow blinks, which make your cheeks warm. You hoped he liked your dress.

“Look at you sweetheart,” he all but coos, with his arm out for you to fall in with a hug.

You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped once you were in his embrace. Your head rests on his chest, arms wrapped around him as well as you can muster. His strong arms swallow you whole, making you feel a warmth you haven’t felt in a long time. 

“I missed you so much, Si.” Your voice is muffled into his chest. You can feel the rumble of his laugh more than you can hear it.

“I missed you,” he responds with a kiss on the top of your head. 

You pulled back a little to look into his deep brown eyes, loving that he is here with you more than you can even explain. Simon leans down to press a gentle kiss against your lips, which you return immediately. His hands began working his way over your shoulders, down your spine, before gently resting on your hips. The feeling of his large hands on you in such an intimate spot, that is a bit softer than it was before the baby, caused your spine to straighten. 

You pulled yourself from the kiss. “Oh! Food, let me pull it out of the oven for you.” You gave a quick peck to his lips at that and pulled yourself from his embrace to head into the kitchen.

Simon followed in after you, watching you pull a few trays of food from the oven. 

“I’m sorry it isn’t homemade… but I ordered all your favorites. I tried my best to keep it warm for you,” you explained. “I was expecting you a bit earlier, so I kept some in the oven for you. The rest is in the fridge!” You clapped your hands together with a small smile. “So you can have more of your favorites over the next few days.” 

Once your eyes fell back onto him, he held an odd expression, almost sorrowful. Your throat tightened at the look. Feeling like you made a mistake with the food. Internally cursing yourself, you were so sure he would be excited about having a bit of all his favorite take out, but maybe you were wrong. 

“Or if you want I can just put it all up and make you something!” You attempted to sound cheery, but you knew there were barely any groceries in the house.

You turned to the cupboards, looking through them all. Hoping something would magically appear even though you know there isn’t much in there besides some dried pasta, canned goods and cereal. For some odd reason your eyes began to burn with humiliation. Of course he wanted to come home to a home cooked meal, he’s been gone for months and I just ordered him take out. 

“Love,” Simon said softly. You ignored him, heading to the fridge. Knowing exactly what’s in there isn’t much better than the cupboards, but you didn’t know what else to do.

Standing there with the door to the fridge open, Simon slips up behind you. He slowly wraps his arms around you, pulling your form firmly against his. Your breath hitched in your throat. As much as you missed his touch, you weren’t prepared for how feeling his strong hands on your soft stomach would feel. Your body has changed a lot since giving birth, which is to be expected, you know that. The both of you just haven’t had any time to be intimate with each other since the baby. Your body needed to heal, and Simon was beyond understanding of that. Then your doctor cleared you, your body was better and this is the first time really seeing him since.

“You did great sweetheart, thank you for ordering all my favorites,” he whispers into your ear. Sending chills down your spine. “I will eat every last bit of it, promise.”

“You sure?” You question softly.

“Of course lovie,” he kisses the back of your head tenderly. “But Johnny asked the team if we wanted to go to the pub tonight.”

Eyebrows pulling down at that with a frown on your face. You turned your head to the side, attempting to see his face from your peripheral. 

“What?” Surely he wasn’t going to go.

“Yeah,” Simon pulled back from you to go around the island and perch on the stool you were previously on. “This last mission was a bit tough, and we all wanted to celebrate it going as well as it did. Happy to be back home, ya know?” He says as plain as ever. Reaching over to one of the baking trays and grabbing some chips to toss into his mouth.

“Sure Si, I get it,” you start, slowly turning around to face him. “But… Well it’s just that I haven’t seen you in almost two months, and I was really hoping we could spend some time together.” You bit your lip softly, eyes not leaving his. You hoped he could see the desperation on your face without you having to say it outloud. After a few moments of his blank stare, you decided to change the subject to your daughter. “You haven’t even had a chance to see the baby. And-”

“Y/N, don’t do that.” Simon started with a bit of an edge to his voice. “You know how much I miss you both. I can go out for a couple of drinks with the team, and I’ll be back before you know it.”

“She’s been asleep for a while now, I know she will be up soon. She would love to see her dada, Si.” You felt your heartbeat in your throat now. If he won’t stay home for you, surely he will stay home for her. 

“That isn’t fair.” Simon stood from his chair. “You can’t hold her over my head. Our daughter isn’t supposed to be used as leverage.” 

“Of course not Simon, that isn’t what I meant. I just meant-”

“What did you mean then? To make me feel even worse about being gone from her? Because I don’t need your help to feel bad about that.” Simon’s voice was unintentionally raising by the second. You had no idea what it was like for him out there, on the job constantly thinking about you and your daughter. 

“I’m not trying to make you feel bad Si…” You gulped in some air, hoping it’ll calm your pounding heart. “I just have been so lonely and I was really looking forward to being with you tonight,” you explained softly. 

“It’ll be a couple hours Y/N.” Simon firmly stated with no room for argument. “I will be back before you know it.”

“I know that, but-” Cries echo throughout the flat, starting at the baby monitor on the kitchen island. You closed your eyes, telling yourself to keep your face even as your bottom lip attempted to wobble. You felt so sad and dejected. “Okay, Si.” You opened your watery eyes and gave a small smile that didn’t quite perk up the rest of your face. “Have fun and be safe okay?” 

You didn’t wait for a response before heading to your daughter's bedroom.

“What’s the matter baby girl?” You ask gently as you lean over the crib to pick her up.

“Hungry?” You whisper. 

Taking your spot in the corner of the room where your rocking chair is. You set up to feed her. You hum a small song to her as her cries finally calm and she accepts you feeding her. After her little belly was full you made sure that she was burped, then you changed her nappy and she was asleep again. You were grateful she was currently pretty good about getting back to sleep at night. Her tiny body was back in the crib as you looked her over. Perfect in every way. You gently brushed her head one last time before you turned to head back out of the room, but before your hand could twist the knob you changed your mind. 

You sat yourself back to the rocking chair, snagging your phone from the end table you had sat it on when you came into the room. You decided to just scroll for a while, not looking at anything in particular, just wanted to mindlessly scroll. Unfortunately it didn’t last long, after 10 minutes of not being able to take your mind off of him. You gave in, phone falling into your lap as the tears began to fall. You held your face in your hand, mascara long forgotten. You tried your best to keep quiet, not wanting to disturb the sleeping baby. Your mind just kept spiraling. 

“How could he not want to be here with me?”

“ I felt like I looked pretty… as pretty as I can look anyway.”

“Maybe I should have expected this. It’s so selfish of me to assume he would want to be intimate with me again, looking like this.”

 And worst of all, your mind started to wonder if he was even going out with the team at all. “Surely there isn’t someone else… No Y/N stop that.”

 You told yourself, nipping that in the bud. Simon would never do that to you, you knew that.  

The tears just kept on going and going, until you had no more tears left to cry. You felt exhausted, you couldn’t remember the last time you cried like this and it really took it out of you.  Checking your phone again, noting how much time has passed, you decided it was time to just go to bed. Using the back of your hands to wipe away the tears as best as you could before standing with a small sigh. You opened the door gently and slipped out without making any noise at all. 

Before heading to bed you wanted to drink some water, you could feel the beginning of a headache coming on. You started on your way to the kitchen, but stopped dead in your tracks before making it more than a few steps. Simon was still sitting at the stool where he was when you went to feed the baby.

“Si, I thought you were gone to the pub,” you breathed embarrassed. You couldn't help but notice the baby monitor in his hand. 

“I heard you talking to her, and humming that song you always do,” he started. “And I was just going to listen for a moment until you came back out.” His hazel eyes gazed upon you, heavy with the weight of sorrow. “Then you didn’t come out, and I heard you…” He stopped.

You swallowed nervously, hands knotted into your dress, eyes on the floor. Trying to do anything to avoid the tension rolling off of you in waves. 

“Baby,” he started only to falter momentarily. “Look at me please.” 

Unsure why, but you just couldn't bring yourself to look up at him. The stool was pushed back, as he gently stood up, his boots thud across the floor stopping in your line of sight.

His thumb and index finger grip your chin gently, pulling it up to force you to look at him. You weren’t sure what to expect, but seeing his beautiful brown eyes watery wasn’t it. 

“I’m sorry Si, I didn’t want you to hear that,” you tried to explain. “I’m just being selfish. I don’t want to force you to be here. I’m okay, go out with the team.” You attempt to reassure him. “I just want you to be happy.”

Your poor dress is a wrinkled mess, your sweaty palms constantly bunching and un-bunching the fabric. You weren’t sure why you felt so embarrassed, but you felt shame to your core over him hearing you cry like that. 

“You aren’t selfish Y/N, and I am happy, here with you and our daughter. It’s where I am my happiest, love,” he clarifies. “You two are my world, and you don’t need to apologize to me. I am the one who is sorry.” Simon pauses for a second to clear his throat, not allowing himself to get choked up. “I never want to hear you cry like that ever again, especially over me. You don’t deserve that, my sweet girl.” He presses a soft kiss on your mascara stained cheek. “The perfect mama to our perfect baby,” he whispers against your cheek. “My beautiful darling.” Mirroring the previous action, kissing your opposite cheek just as gently as before. 

His large hands reach for yours, gently coaxing them from your dress, forcing them to relax. He takes one hand in his and brings it to his lips, placing a soft kiss to it before repeating the same with your other hand. Simon warily looks you over, you are so beautiful, and yet your eyes are so sad. All because you want to spend time with him, how could he be so foolish. 

“You look amazing tonight sweetheart, this dress looks great on you,” he gushed. “I’m sorry I didn’t say it before.” His warm hands resume their spot on your waist. 

“Oh, it’s nothing,” you blush.

“Definitely not nothing, love.” Simon realized his mistakes, he was always a bit slow when it came to things like this. 

“How about we eat some dinner and get ready for bed love?” He asked sweetly. Large hands engulfing your hips, guiding you to the kitchen. “How does that sound?”

You couldn’t help the smile from forming on your lips. 

“I would love that Simon,” you muttered. 

Once he gets you to sit on a stool, he grabs some plates for the two of you and places a bit of food on each before sliding the plates over to where the stools are. Simon takes his spot beside you, and leans over to you and whispers, “Maybe then we can have some dessert, yeah?” 

Your eyes widen at that, as your duck your head to hide your burning cheeks. 

“You up for it, lovie?” Simon beckoned, placing a kiss on your warm cheek. 

“I- uh I mean we can, do whatever you want,” you kiss his cheek in return. 

“I have a few things that I want.” Simon says with a grin. “Eat up sweetheart.” 

Thank you for reading! Please let me know if you enjoyed it, and let me know if you have any ideas or requests.

[ma1dita]

trouble's coming for you

a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: 3.7k

summary: (established relationship) suggestive banter lol The one where Percy meets his two favorite counselors at Camp Half-Blood. Also known as the three times Percy is completely oblivious about you two, plus the time he learns what L-O-V-E looks like for two teen demigods. (Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader)

a/n: PERCY POV!!! maybe the real enemy was the blue balls Luke got from a clueless 12-year-old. you’re gonna tell me you wouldn’t overthrow the gods too? scream at me in the comments and feel free to reblog :)

(posted 2/29/24, edited!!! i think!!! four hours of sleep later and a big kiss to @hotchfiles miss lari as always for inspo mwah)

—

What’s in a name?

One of the last defining memories Percy Jackson had with his mother before arriving at Camp Half-Blood was her reminder that names have power. He’s held fast to that belief, treading carefully with his words in this unfamiliar place that he’s supposed to call home so soon after losing his own.

Being the new kid for the hundredth time in his life means that he’s accustomed to change, much less introducing himself as Percy Jackson, whatever that means at this point—but then becoming known simply as the kid who causes trouble. What then, is he supposed to do, when his first friend at camp introduces him to a girl who embodies the name trouble? 

To Luke, through Percy’s actions, it seems as if he’s trying to reclaim a crown that currently belongs to the beloved head counselor of Camp Half-Blood.

—

The dining pavilion is filled with mouth-watering scents and the sound of chattering campers to the point that it’s a bit overstimulating if he thinks too hard about it. Mr. Brunn—er, Chiron told him to take it easy after the events from yesterday, but he feels a bit tough on luck after making Luke run circles around camp trying to find what he’s good at.

“Is there a Greek god of disappointment? Maybe someone should ask if he’s missing a kid,” Percy says glumly, pushing the mac and cheese around on his plate. Luke sighs, letting the boy to his right speak.

“Oizys,” Chris mumbles through full cheeks before he cocks his head at the 12-year-old, “but she’s a goddess, and her whole thing isn’t really disappointment, it’s more like failure.”

Luke looks to Chris with a half smile before looking back at the kid and saying, “We’re gonna find the thing you’re good at. I know it.” He looks like he’s going to say something else before something, or someone catches his attention and it’s almost like the older boy is transfixed, eyes shining with mischief or something deeper that Percy’s young brain couldn’t comprehend just yet. 

“And here comes trouble…” Luke says with a smirk, eyes following your figure until your feet take you to their table. The sandy-haired boy twists around, expecting to see a goddess of some sort until he sees you, violet eyes and a lilt of something sinister—giving off the energy of someone who holds power but also likes to fuck with it. You cross your arms over your chest, gaze floating over the three boys and at the tip of your chin, Luke takes his plate off the table, prompting you to hop up and slide onto the smooth surface in front of him. 

“You look like someone kicked your puppy, so you must be the new kid. Peter, right?”

A snort of laughter comes from behind your slouched form, Luke partially concealed but body obviously shaking with amusement as he looks at you.

“He might just turn out to be a puppy kicker one day,” the son of Hermes jokes, “Meet Percy Jackson.”

“That’s not…”

You sigh at Luke’s idea of a joke, face incredulous as you lean over and conjure strawberries onto Percy’s plate. He’d never seen anything like that before, someone so casual about their abilities, but he didn’t have much of a reference past yesterday. This camp keeps surprising him in ways he’s never imagined possible.

“Heard D gave you a hard time earlier, sorry about him—I’d blame it on withdrawals but he’s just an asshole,” you offer with a smile and a handshake as you introduce yourself, watching the boy’s eyes widen with wonder.

“It’s not your fault…I’m used to being the new kid.”

Eyebrows furrowing at his tone, you lean in closer, voice turning serious. You’re a lot like Mr. D in the sense that it’s easy for you to poke at the kids who come through here for a reaction to make sure they’re okay mentally. When they don’t react is usually the call for help.

“Well, new kid, if anyone gives you a problem here at camp, you let me know. Even if it’s these two hooligans, or if it’s my dad.”

“You’re talking to our lovely head counselor, Percy. She calls the shots around here,” Chris chimes in jest. But only one part of your sentence sticks in his mind as he whips his head up from munching on a berry. 

“He’s your dad?”

“Yeah, unfortunately,” you giggle, “and though you’re sweet and I would love to have you as a sibling, he kind of has a rule on having too many kids at once, unlike other gods.”

“A rule he’s already broken,” Luke drones, hand fidgeting with the black bandana tied around your thigh, “but who knows? If Percy ends up to be one of you, well…may the gods have mercy on us all.”

A deadpan stare is directed at the scarred boy, and you swipe at his curls like a feral cat, making him wince and laugh all the same as he bats you away.

“Tough shit, 11. Do you know how many hellions inhibit your cabin? Your dad inflicts agony on me personally every time another one of your siblings walks past the boundaries.”

The petty squabble is interrupted by the chime of the bell over your heads, but you two are still in a world of your own. It reminds Percy of the time he watched two subway rats fight over a pizza slice on the 6 train—he didn’t really know who to root for then either. Chris sighs and gets up, nudging Luke to follow, which he does begrudgingly as he claps his large hand on your leg. You hiss.

“Our turn!” Luke says with a hint of sarcasm. 

“Our turn for what?”

“Burnt offerings,” you explain as you chomp on a strawberry, “the gods like the smell, so it gets their attention before you say a prayer.” You notice Percy stay in his seat, which makes a smile pull at your lips, “Think you’re off the hook for today though, bud. Or you can be just like me.”

“Don’t give him any ideas, Trouble. I’ll throw in a few for Hestia.” Luke chews at his lip as he leans over you to grab a few berries off of Percy’s plate to toss into the fire for you. 

“You don’t pray?”

“I’m not really the religious type. I’ve got what I need,” you concede, leaning back on your palms as you watch the son of Hermes stand for a few extra seconds at the hearth. “Besides, my godrent is right over there, and Luke worries enough for me. It’s more his thing,” you say with a lazy smile. The campers filing out of the dining hall wave at you and you enthusiastically greet everyone with dancing fingers. He doesn’t think he’s ever met anyone that…happy to be on the job, but things work differently around here, so he doesn’t think much of your upbeat attitude.

“Eat up. Some of that strength has to go to you. Gonna need it.” You say ruffling Percy’s hair, and when Luke comes back, he tugs at the shoelaces of your boots until you kick his hands away. You both share a smile like people do a secret, even here in the open air.

“Do they like the smell of burnt mac and cheese?” Percy says curiously, eating another spoonful of the meal. His head hurts at another thing to consider in this brand-new world he’s walked into.

“They like the smell of begging,” Luke grins, and you laugh like a firework going off, making Percy’s lips pull up into a smile.

“I’m not much of a beggar though, if you ask me.”

The son of Hermes hums at you like he wants to say otherwise, and you slap his chest as you suck air through your teeth. Beneath the wood top of the table and with Percy being none the wiser, your fingers intertwine with Luke’s like it’s second nature. 

“You burn what you’ll miss the most. Then they know you really mean what you’re about to say, so they listen.” 

Luke takes a breath after explaining how things work for the nth time to the kid, knowing Percy’s quite persistent about making his dad notice him. He remembers being jaded too—striving to be the best for a lick of his dad’s attention and all of his efforts were done in vain. Even though the kid’s arrival at camp was a bit unexpected, Luke doesn’t mind showing him around. 

Hopefully, less work on your end means that he can spend more time with you once this is over with— but by the looks of how the day is going so far, he’s not so sure. He hopes his offerings reach the gods and they grant him extra patience for his good deeds. Watching you laugh at something Percy says as you all walk out of the dining pavilion, Luke wonders if you know that every offering he burns for the goddess of the hearth and home is so that she’ll protect you.

—

“Lights out in 10 minutes, cabin 11! Everyone ready for bed?”

The sound of your voice jolts Percy awake from his post-dinner nap and he blinks slowly until he sees you walking towards him with extra blankets and pillows in your grasp. The other campers were kind of stand-offish, and after praying to his mom he was overwhelmed with the feeling of missing her, so much so that it drained the rest of his energy.

“Long day, huh bud?”

Drowsy with sleep, for a moment, Percy forgets where he is—the unfamiliar walls of the cabin making him shift with unease as he rubs at his eyes. The blurry version of you makes his chest go warm and for a second, it’s like—

“Mom?”

He blinks again, his pale face turning red when he realizes his slip-up. Percy’s shoulders drop when he hears giggles from somewhere in the big cabin and you reach out to smooth his hair away from his face with a gentle smile.

“Don’t worry about it. Everyone who first comes to 11 gets nightmares. For some of them, they don’t leave,” you mutter. Percy notices your eyes flicker over to Luke’s bed, where he’s zipping up his hoodie and chatting with one of his half-siblings. Cabin 11 is finally quieting down for the night—children scrambling into their bunks, doing nighttime routines, and having quiet conversations. It’s all so weird, this being everyone’s normal.

“You’re not alone though. Saw you earlier, outside. I still pray to my mom sometimes. She's quite the listener,” you say with a sad twinkle in your eye. The kid sniffs as you hand him the pillows and blankets, finally meeting your gaze.

“Did your mom…” Die too? The words feel like lead in his throat, feeling heavy as he swallows it down. He doesn’t want to cry in front of the pretty counselor, much less speak the truth, because if he says it out loud, it means his mom dying must have been real. Also, you’ve seen him sit in the dark of the forest burning blue jelly beans like a freak. What he didn’t know is that you pride yourself on being one. It takes one to know one, after all.

“Yeah. Makes for one hell of an origin story, but I found my place here, and people who care. I know you will too, when you’re rea—” Your words trail off when you see Luke walk past the both of you with a cool expression before he nods towards the door, and you squeeze Percy’s shoulder before getting up.

“Night guys! It’s getting late so we’ll have to do a story next time, okay?” You walk down the aisle patting heads and tucking in smaller campers, and he hears you whack the younger Stoll brother when he teasingly says, “It’s not fair that Luke gets a bedtime story and we don’t…”

“Connor, enough. I’ve lost count of how many times you’ve woken up and called me mom, so save it for tomorrow, chuckles.” He must have been the one laughing earlier.

“Everyone say goodnight Trouble!” Luke calls out with a coy expression, making you roll your eyes as you flick the light off to a symphony of jeers. It’s finally quiet as Percy is propped up against some pillows that smell like raspberries and soft cotton before he realizes he has to pee. 

But Chris said harpies hunt kids after curfew… he thinks.

In a moment of sheer panic, Percy looks around in the darkness of the cabin before the sound of your cackling pierces through the dim light from the outside. He hops up from the makeshift cot and tugs his shoes back on, slowly creeping past the long row of bunks to not disturb other campers before he gets to the door. Your head turns quickly to the intrusion as you spring away from Luke, stubbing a cigarette underneath the wood panel out of sight when Percy steps through the doorway. 

“Sorry, I need to use the bathroom,” he says sheepishly as Luke nods, scratching his neck and leaning a far distance away from you. Under the low burning lamps, Percy notices Luke’s cheeks redden and he wonders if he is interrupting something, but the urge to go increases as he steps between you two.

“Right. I’ll walk you to yours?” Luke blurts in one breath. With a wordless smile on your lips, you nod before Percy purposely interrupts this time.

“I can walk her, it’s on the way to the bathrooms, right?”

If only this poor kid knew he was being the cockblock of the century.

“Yeah, Percy’s got me. The harpies won’t like you missing curfew, Castellan,” you tease, stepping around him with a shit-eating grin. Your hair almost floats in the gentle breeze, and Luke rolls his eyes.

“Stay out of trouble. I mean it," he sighs, before shoving you off the porch, and you laugh at the irony of his words. Looking back at Luke, Percy noticed his eyes were on you like he wanted to live in your skin, which was equal parts disgusting and confusing to the 12-year-old. His steps double in pace as you both walk down the path and a brief side glance at your stifled smile quickly makes the kid wonder if you’d let him.

Pushing the sleeves of Luke’s hoodie past your elbows, you wave at Percy’s rushing figure as he almost bolts to the bathroom and you lean against the doorway of your empty cabin. You turn the light on and look across the way to see your boyfriend still leaning against his door, so you flip him off. Of course, he takes that as his cue to saunter over.

But then the loud clanging sound of pipes bursting reaches both of your ears and toilet water floods the dirt near the back end of your cabin. 

So close.

“I’m gonna go check on Annie to see if she’s still on duty. Tough luck, babe,” you giggle, pressing a kiss to his cheek before walking in the direction that Percy went, sending the son of Hermes to drag his feet towards your cabin, alone (he didn’t expect to fall asleep propped over your covers waiting up for you, but a lot happened in that damn bathroom).

—

“Hey, today feel like a winning kind of day to you?” Annabeth smirks at the son of Hermes. Next to them, Percy feels a hand clap him on the shoulder and all three of them turn to see you donning red.

“Didn’t you three hear the conch? Wouldn’t want you to fall behind,” you say with a grin as Luke steps up to you and whistles lowly.

“Didn’t know you were playing today. It’s a shame you look that good in red.”

Annabeth fake gags as she crosses her arms to say, “You’re also currently on enemy territory if you haven’t noticed.”

“Oh, you wound me. I’m not a threat. Percy, I obviously don’t have the flag, right?”

He nods a bit dumbly, still worried about the mechanics of the game and the part he has to play for the blue team, but no one else seems to share his concerns.

“Anyways, sorry I’m not on your team, Perce. The Ares kids snatched me up as soon as my name was on the roster, so I came to wish you all luck.”

“This better not be a diversion tactic, Trouble,” Luke simpers, playfully tugging at your staff, which you use for leverage to step up onto a rock to meet him at eye level.

“Nah. You know I like the competition, angelface,” you whisper, almost daring him to do something.

“Bite me, Trouble.”

There’s a fire in his eyes you’d love to stoke, but now’s not the time or place. You can’t help but indulge though—the both of you enjoy the reactions you can pull from each other.

“You’d like it too much.”

“Alright now,” Annabeth groans, calling your name, rolling her eyes as she pulls at Luke’s arm, “Gotta remember he’s your enemy!” 

“I’M TRYING!” You laugh, shaking your head and walking back towards your team as you shoot them a fake salute. It all happens too quickly as Percy’s unable to catch the spitfire words between the two of you, thinking further about how he might get maimed during this game (which in the grand scheme of things, he almost does. Thanks Clarisse).

“Those two are hopeless! Walk faster, sunshine—we lost too much time watching whatever that was.” Percy stumbles along the forest path as he follows Annabeth, the both of them leaving Luke smirking to himself as he follows the rest of their team. 

Hours later, at Clarisse’s muddy feet and holding her broken spear, Percy hears cheering in the distance as he watches the blue team led by Luke waving the red flag in one hand and your legs supported by his other. You’re in a fireman’s hold across his shoulders and everyone watches as the son of Hermes spins you around like a Tilt-a-Whirl until the sound of your shrieks is audible from the shoreline.

He sets you down gently, dominant hand still around your waist as he snickers, “Got my win and my girl. Must be time to celebrate.” You laugh at his absurdity, pulling his helmet off and wiping the sweat off his forehead with your bandana.

“You’re always going to be a loser in my eyes.” 

Slapping the plush of your hip, the sound echoes in the air—suddenly quiet as you gasp. But you’re not looking at Luke anymore, but rather the gleaming trident above Percy’s head as it’s revealed he’s a Forbidden Child. His jaw tightens at the sight, and there are a lot of emotions running through him, remembering Thalia and knowing that his plans will have to be altered once more because of Percy Jackson. You squeeze his hand before walking away from him to follow your dad and Chiron to the Big House, shooting him a nervous glance.

Damn.

—

The boys have been sparring for hours, and just as you think Percy’s getting the hang of it, Luke thrusts forward with an energy no one should have towards a 12-year-old. Although a bit concerning, he does have a lot to catch up on how to fight like a demigod before his quest in a few days.

“Take a break or else you’ll be crawling away from camp by the end of the week,” you joke, handing Percy and Luke bottles of cold water. Your boyfriend takes big gulps before pouring the rest over his head, leaving you gaping and a little hot under his stare as he nudges your chin and winks.

“You’re doing that on purpose!”

Luke shrugs slyly, and the both of you watch Percy catch his breath. He leans over your shoulder, the tone of his voice sultry as it tickles your ear, “What’s in a name? That which we call a rose, by any other word would smell as sweet.” 

You bite your lip, before bursting with laughter—which isn’t exactly the reaction he thought you’d have. Maybe he should’ve finished reading the sonnet before falling asleep, but you always take too long with your nighttime skincare routine.

“That doesn’t mean what you think it means, but you’re cute for trying,” you coo, leaning closer so that your cheek touches his. Luke’s whole face is warm from exertion and now embarrassment, but he smiles nonetheless at the proximity. He can’t believe he still misses you, even when you’re skin-to-skin like this.

“That stanza…Isn’t it about names being meaningless?” Percy says between gasps of air before he pours the rest of the water bottle over his head like Luke did. He’s looking up at the both of you as he leans against a tree, instantly feeling more rejuvenated.

You jerk up from your seated position on the large rocks, excited to talk about Shakespeare, and Luke almost pouts at the loss of your attention.

“Yeah! Good job, bud. I forget you went to a hoity-toity charter school,” you say tongue-in-cheek, before turning back to your boy.

“So Romeo would, were he not Romeo called, retain that dear perfection which he owes without that title. Romeo, doff thy name, and, for thy name, which is no part of thee, take all myself. You’re gonna have to interpret that one yourself, angelface.” 

“Trust I have no fucking clue but you sound really hot when you talk dirty to me,” Luke says with a shrug. Percy laughs at that, before finally bringing up the question that’s been on his mind since Luke introduced you to him.

“Why do you call her Trouble? She seems okay to me.”

“Thanks,” you say dryly, but the older boy leans on his arm with a lovestruck expression as he gazes at you. Oh…Percy thinks, brain feeling freshly washed. How did he miss that?

“She used to get in trouble a lot,” he says, before you elbow him hard, “I mean, we used to get in trouble, she’d always drag me into it.”

“You always offered! Don’t twist the fucking story,” you shriek, and the boys laugh at your exasperation.

“Yeah anyways, she’d always find me. Still does, my partner in crime. Trouble always comes for me,” Luke murmurs, waggling his eyebrows and intertwining your fingers together. Your jaw drops and cheeks flush and Percy thinks he understands better now, but gets confused again with what you do next.

You almost slap the goddamn scar off that boy’s face.

—

It is a terrible thing to be so open: it is as if my heart put on a face and walked into the world. -Sylvia Plath

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[erwinsvow]

you have this awful way of teasing him. logan doesn't like to be teased—at least not the way you do it.

all polite, sweet smiles when the room is filled with your peers and his students. they're not really his, but the feeling has stuck as of late.

logan shouldn't let you keep going. you're getting the wrong idea—thinking that this, whatever this is, can be something. something more than heated stares and heavy breaths. he's no saint—the thought has run through his head at least a hundred times a day.

how easy it would be to get you alone. to find an empty hallway and push you against the wall, keep one ear listening for footsteps and the other focused on how fast your heart is beating. it picks up everytime he's in the vicinity.

shit. when had he started zeroing in on you like this? it's not just your heart, it's your breathing too. hitched. if your breath is like that and your heart is racing, then what could be going on between your legs? he doesn't have to be a mind-reader to figure it out, but you're lucky anyways, that he's not. he might not be able to hold himself back.

not like you want him to. it's too obvious—if others haven't picked up on it yet, they're going to soon. your friends probably giggle with you late at night, help you perfect your plan to get the big, bad wolverine into the palm of your hand.

or maybe not—maybe you're quiet about it. maybe it's a running joke but nothing more, nothing shared with anyone except you and him. private, just between the two of you. looks that no one else understands, an ache that no one else feels. it doesn't make it less wrong, but it almost feels that way. like pining is supposed to help.

teasing certainly isn't the answer, not that you care. you're all pretty smiles, cocking your head and laughing sweetly, replying to something he said without caring about what he said. you ignore that part, electing to keep the conversation going even though he can't make it more obvious that what he really needs is for you to go.

you get closer, even when others prying eyes are still present. a hand on his arm, brushing up against him and then apologizing without any real sincerity behind it, even the way you rest your body against his doorframe, staring at him with teasing eyes. it's all you fucking do—tease, tease, tease.

logan would like to think some things about you haven't changed on his behalf. he pretends that maybe you always wore short skirts and tight tops, or that maybe you'd put them away for the winter and that's why they keep making appearances. but it's still cold out and somehow, the shortest and the tightest things are decked out just when he's around.

it's menacing. a girl as sweet as you shouldn't be capable of such devious things. the sliver of exposed skin between your white tank-top and your denim skirt, a place where his hand would fit perfectly. one touch and your entire body would get warm, he knows it—you wouldn't feel cold no matter what you're wearing or what month it is.

the way the hem of your sundress rides up when you take a seat next to him, legs crossing over and an endless expanse of smooth skin visible. all the way up to your upper thigh, any higher and he'd get a glimpse of panties—and what color would those be? matching? he can only think about it for a second until he snaps out of it. and when his gaze moves from your legs to your face, there's that smile again. devious. devilish.

you've been put on earth to torment him. he keeps trying to do the right thing—avoid you at every turn, lock doors if it means keeping you out. conversations are short and civil, no matter how much you both would prefer to keep them going.

it's just wrong. you're so young—you don't know any better. or maybe you do, and you choose to ignore it, but he can't do this too, on top of everything else. he has to get something right, and it's just your misfortune that this is the thing he's chosen to stay steadfast about.

because otherwise he wouldn't stand a chance. with every passing stare at your glossy lips and soft, pretty skin—skin that just so happens to be waiting for him to mark up—and clothes that are waiting to be torn off, bits and pieces of his resolve start withering.

you know what you're doing to him, and you don't stop. you don't plan on stopping until you've gotten what you want. yes, it's wrong, but there's not much in the world that's right anymore. you think you at least deserve this. and logan's a good sport—behind every closed door and curt word, his eyes reveal what his mouth won't. a simple truth known to both of you—that he wants you as badly as you want him.

it's a long game, one you're willing to play. you move the pieces same as usual—a shorter, tighter skirt here, a too-big tank top that leaves your straps somewhere on your arm there. conversations get a little longer, his stares get a little more heated, a little more aggressive. you can even hear him taking out his frustration on the punching bags instead of just giving in and taking them out on the object of his frustration.

but you're close—and if there's one thing that you are, besides a tease, is patient.

at half-past ten, all the kids are asleep. there's some older students scattered around the house, some upstairs and others watching tv, but you know your destination tonight, and where the occupant of a particular room is. the baggy button-up you'd put on over your dress, just to make it a little more appropriate for the day, was abandoned on the back of a kitchen chair. you made one stop to the fridge before heading up here—to logan's room.

patient you were, but a saint, you were not. there was only so much a girl could take. you knock twice, and without even realizing it, your heart rate picks up. it always does when logan's nearby, and then you curse under your breath. he might not open the door if he realizes it's you—but then again, who else would come knocking this late?

you hear it—a deep breath, footsteps getting closer. your back straightens automatically, biting your cheek in anticipation. when he opens the door, you beam up at him, knowing exactly what he's about to say.

"kid, you needa go t'bed-"

"i brought you something," you say, with another bright, sweet smile. you offer it to him with outstretched hands—two beers, still cold from the depths of the fridge you had buried them in, lest one of the kids saw them, or one of the jerks drank them.

"how'd ya even get these, huh?"

to anyone else, logan would look the same as he always did—gruff, angry, unforgiving. but you're not just anyone else. you noticed it—picked up on it immediately. the way the tension in his shoulder lessened, just barely. how his grimace softened. how the expression in his eyes betrays him—he sounds upset but he's really not. there's humor in them, sparkling back at you, because he thinks it's funny.

that you show up with beer this late. that you wear a dress you really, really shouldn't wear—the one he thinks of as his favorite, before trying to expel the damn thought entirely.

you roll your pretty eyes, pushing through the man blocking you. of course if he actually wanted to keep you out, he'd barely have to try. one push and you'd be on the other side of the wood, but like always, you know him.

"you do realize i'm not actually a kid, right? i can buy beer," you reply—and even your words, coated in humor and sarcasm, still come out sweet as sugar.

you couldn't be mean if you tried. logan can't be nice if he tried.

"yeah, yeah. c'mon kid, y'can't be in here this late-"

"late?" you repeat back at him, taking a seat on his bed. logan closes the door, wandering back over to where you're perched. you really shouldn't have sat down—not with how much he's pictured you under these very sheets. "don't be such a grandpa, logan. it's not even eleven yet."

"cuttin' a little close to your bedtime, huh?"

"ha-ha," you say dryly, holding one of the bottles towards him. "i didn't bring a bottle opener."

he takes it out of your hand, fingers brushing over each other for a second. it's nothing, twisting the cap off with his hand, tossing it somewhere to the side. you keep staring up, watching through fluttery lashes as he takes a long sip, enjoying the view a little too much. the cherry on top is the exhale logan takes after he finishes, fisting the beer bottle a little too tight.

"do you like it?" you ask quietly, heart thudding fast again. you suddenly hope he can hear it now, even clearer than before.

"yeah, kid." he takes a breath, and your eyes close for a second. "it's wrong." another breath, one from you this time. "shouldn't have beer in the house."

"yeah," you agree, eyes opening and taking him in again. you had planned everything perfectly, picked the best time to come. his flannel was flung on the bed next to you, nothing but the white wife-beater covering his chest. "nothing wrong with just once though, right?"

"kid-"

you stand up, much too close for comfort. your little pink dress looks even prettier like this, so close that he can almost feel the material. one strap has fallen���like they always do—but this time, your wish finally comes true. logan takes the strap between his thick fingers, sliding it up your arm and around to your shoulder, bringing it all the way up. even after it's secured, he doesn't let go.

his touch—barely present as it was, is enough to light your skin on fire. it's just as you thought it would be, and now all you want is more. your eyes shut again.

"i probably shouldn't tell you this," you start, and you hear logan groan—a soft noise, something that has imprinted into your brain forever. "but i really love it when you call me that."

"y'killing me, kid-" he says, all in one breath.

"what's it gonna take, hm? do you want the other beer? i brought both for you, i don't even like the stuff-"

he shuts you up by closing the space in between the two of you. logan's mouth is hot, hot just like the rest of him, blazing to the touch. huge hands wrap around your waist, bringing you in even closer, if it's even possible to be any closer. it's everything you dreamed it could be—the sheer intensity of how he kisses you, the way his tongue feels in your mouth, how hard he grips you. your hands find his shoulders, gripping on as hard as you can, nails digging in while you moan into his mouth. you should be quiet, anyone could hear, and yet, you keep going. and it's all of it at once, the taste of the beer and those cigars he loves so much. if they taste anything like this you might find yourself addicted to those too.

when he finally pulls away—and of course it's him that pulls away, you would stay attached forever if you could, and you plan to make it a reality—there's lines of spit between your mouthes, still connecting you. he wipes the corner of your lips with his thumb, and breathless you stare up at him.

your hand traces down his arm, all the way to his wrist and then his hand, resting just above his knuckles, running your soft fingers over them.

"logan," you breathe out, your heart as fast as he's ever heard it. "can i go lock the door?"

"yeah kid," he says, the gruffness in his voice something entirely new, laced with a desire and wanting you had only hoped to hear tonight. "go lock the door."

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Chapter 26 - I've Loved Everything About You That Hurts

Series Masterlist

Author's Note: They’re insane because I’ll try to write a chapter with no sex and they end up fucking, and then I try to do the sex in less words and now it’s emotional.

Chapter Title from G.I.N.A.S.F.S by Fall Out Boy

Word Count: 25k

Chapter Summary/Warnings: The team drives to DC for a meeting with Singer. Usual warnings, plus some extra smut and average No Love Lost angst.

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, canon divergence, enemies to friends to lovers, canon divergence, much smut (p in v, oral f receiving, fingering, squirting) fluff, emotional angst, established relationship

Read on A03!

Chapter 25 - Chapter 27

Ben was not the brains. And he was fucking fine with that. He was the muscle, and he was goddamn good at it. Because while She was stronger than he was—She was stronger and brighter and more vital than the fucking sun—she shouldn’t have blood on her hands. Her hands weren’t fucking meant to be covered in blood. They were meant to tap in a smooth, unyielding pattern against every surface, and turn the pages of books, and hold Ben’s face as she smiled at him. She was meant to fucking smile, and only be near blood to sit with Ben as he washed it off himself.

She kept letting it stain her skin. She kept taking fucking bullets meant for others and covering herself in the mud that pussies like Homelander pushed her into. And that’s what Ben was here for. He was now certain that he wasn’t here for fame or glory or money, he was here to move in perfect fucking time with the woman he loved. To listen to Her giggle and mumble and snort, and give her the fucking world. To dance with Her in the kitchen, and joke with her about fucking everything, and keep his arm around her during dinner as She gave him a secret look that meant I love you, Benjamin, you grump. He was supposed to watch baseball as She frowned at the screen, turning his hand over in hers as she tried to follow the game. He was meant to hold onto the easier, better things—the warm, well-fueled light that inflated in his chest when Ryan hugged at him after training, or the chuckle he couldn’t stop from escaping his body when She pouted at him about something stupid, or the way She moaned when he fucked her into the mattress—and hack and claw his way through the worse parts.

Ben was meant to be the only person in the fucking world who did the dirty work for Her. She’d done enough, and even though he believed her more and more when she told him I’m okay, Ben would do everything in his fucking power to keep her okay. He knew he couldn’t stop Her from running into traffic, because she was fast and stubborn and still didn’t care if She got hit. But he’d jump in front of the oncoming car, and continue to make her understand that he fucking cared. Ben would never fucking recover if She got hit. And if all he could do was tell Her I fucking love you, stop thinking you’re weak and expendable when I fucking love you and adore you and need you, and then run into traffic with Her, he’d do it. Ben was meant to fucking defend Her from everything that haunted her at night, and he understood that now. That he’d never chase away the ghosts, and She’d never chase away his, but they could really easily fucking kill them together. If they were together, those fucking pussy ghosts didn’t stand a goddamn chance. 

So Ben was the muscle, in order to make sure that She didn’t have to be. It was another thing for him to do for Her, when She’d made everything so much more beautiful just by fucking existing near him, and fixing all his messes, and loving him. Still somehow fucking loving him, because Ben was almost goddamn certain some cosmic entity had made a clerical error and sent him the most perfect woman in history, instead of leaving him alone. Ben thought he was supposed to be, mostly, alone. Making empty promises to women he knew he didn’t really want, and to keep fucking moving until it was enough.

It hadn’t been enough. It had never been fucking enough. 

But he’d rested for one goddamn second—his head held against Her body, the most awful aching fucking pain he’d ever goddamn felt consuming him like a storm—and it had been good. She’d hummed to him like she loved him, and She fucking did, and stayed. He’d rested, and it had been enough. 

And now he knew that the fantasy he’d created—where life was so fucking happy because She was happy—wasn’t something he’d allow to be a fantasy. He couldn’t control anything about Her, but he could keep her happy. And if Her nightmares were of blood, he’d never let her see fucking blood again. He’d hide everything that was blue—if they had a son, the kid would have to just fucking deal with green—and shoot out whatever fucking ceiling fans made her cry. He’d drive her everywhere, half because he was over a hundred and had never seen someone speed like She did, and half because she was afraid of heights, and shouldn’t have to use a single goddamn plane. He’d yell at whoever was in charge of bridges until they built one to Rome, and the rest of their fucking lives would be happy.

That was a life he wanted to live. Where he was resting with Her, and they were both happy. And Ben would fucking choke on blood and dirt and mud until it was a reality. 

Which is why he was losing his fucking mind as they entered that part of this war where it wasn’t about muscle anymore. It was about careful moves and well chosen words, and it was the only goddamn battle Ben couldn’t fight for Her. He wasn’t fucking stupid, but he wasn’t even fucking close to understanding whatever the hell went on in Her perfect, clever, insufferably brilliant brain. He knew how She thought—because he knew Her and loved Her and cared for Her—so when something happened that made her eyes grow glazed and her breathing become mechanical, Ben knew he had to hold her until she stopped thinking the only stupid thoughts she was capable of thinking.

That she was bad, when she was actually the only truly good thing in the world. 

That she was weak, when she fucking wasn’t. 

That she didn’t matter, when she mattered more than fucking anything, and sometimes it stabbed him deep in his arteries that she still didn’t get that. 

Ben knew how to chase those thoughts away. He was smart enough to know how to worship and tend to her, and to know when she just needed him at her side.

But Christ, he wasn’t smart enough for this shit. For the CIA and Singer and Edgar and Sage messes. This was Her territory. And Ben could stand at her side, but that was the only fucking way he could help, and it was driving him out of his goddamn mind.

What was worse, though, was that She was fucking confused. And that’s how Ben knew they were fucked.

Because not a single goddamn person could figure out what the fuck the keys were for. 

As they’d left the safe house, Neuman had stopped them. In reality, Neuman had stopped Her and Ben had simply fucking refused to leave them alone. He’d received several irritated glares from Neuman, but She’d moved her free hand to hold Ben’s forearm—in a silent request to keep his hand in Her’s, to stay at her side all the goddamn time—so Ben had stood tall and proud next to her, keeping her safe. Just by being there, like She’d told him to. Neuman could look fucking pissed at him all she wanted, Ben wasn’t going anywhere.

“You were at Red River,” Neuman had watched them carefully, arms crossed as she blocked their way down the stairs. “Did you get it?” 

There had been a pause as She examined Neuman, before finally nodding, her tone flat and  bored. “Yeah, we did. We’ll get it to Edgar-“ 

“What is it?” 

She’d blinked at Neuman. “Does it matter?” 

“Of course it matters,” Neuman had said Her name with an eye roll, and Ben had felt something bloody and zealous tense in his body. “Edgar raised me to be a lot smarter than just blindly trusting him, so I want to know what it is.” 

“And if I don’t tell you?” 

“Oh, come on.” Neuman’s voice had been vaguely amused, giving Her a flat look. “We both know you’re going to tell me. You trust me enough to bring Ashley here, and whatever it is I bet you’re debating whether or not you should give it to Edgar. I can help you decide.”

Ben hadn’t been debating shit. It was keys. Who gave a fuck about keys. As far as he had known, they’d toss the keys to Edgar, settling the debt, and figure out what the fuck to do with the V.

And that was another fucking reason why She was the brains. She’d studied Neuman—fingers tapping on Ben’s arm with lips pulled between her teeth—and found a conclusion that satisfied her enough to reach into Ben’s pocket and pull out the keys, holding them up for Neuman to see.

“Keys.” She’d jingled them with a shrug. “Got an idea what they’re to?”

Neuman hadn’t. Neuman had just looked fucking confused, and helped with goddamn nothing. Neuman had stared at the keys, bluntly stated that she didn’t know what they could possibly unlock, all of Edgar’s property assets were seized and all of Vought’s buildings used electronic locks, and suggested they figure out what they were for before giving them to Edgar. And—based on Her drawn, too-neutral face and the spark of indigence in her eyes—She’d already known all that, and had no intention of giving Edgar a goddamn thing until they knew what the hell was going on.

And now they were even more goddamn late to get back to the compound, and make the drive to DC. She’d volunteered to drive them back, and Ben, Hughie, and Kimiko had exchanged silent looks of not a fucking chance in hell. 

“I’ll be safe-“ 

Ben had drawled Her name, cutting off her protests as Hughie and Kimiko moved to the front of the car. “You will not be fucking safe. You’re worse than Butcher, and if you wreck his car we’re going to have to deal with his bitching for the rest of our goddamn lives.” 

“But-“ 

He’d tugged Her into the back seat, holding her half on his lap and kissing her pretty, pouting mouth until she relaxed in his arms. We’re going to be fucking fine. If Singer gets all goddamn pissed about us being late, he can shove it in his dick hole. 

A small smile had played on her lips, still pressed against Ben’s. Gross.

Her heartbeat had remained steady under Ben’s hands for the rest of the—perfectly fucking legal and safe—drive, and when they’d stepped off the elevator they’d been greeted by MM’s assessing glare and scowl.

“What the hell took you so long.” 

“Um,” Hughie had glanced back to Her—tucked under Ben’s arm—with a stutter of Her name and pallid face. “Do you want to-“ 

“You know what,” MM had run a hand over his face, shaking his head. “I don’t care. Kimiko, you and Frenchie are holding down the fort with Ryan. You three,” he’d turned his glare to Her, Ben, and Hughie. “Get ten minutes to pack. We’re rolling out in fifteen no matter who the fuck is in the limo.”

She’d blinked. “The limo-“ 

“Van’s still scrapped,” MM had muttered. “And we can’t fit six grown ass adults in a minivan or Butcher’s car. We’re renting a limo.”

Ben had no complaints about that. He didn’t have to wear a damn seatbelt in a limo, and it was a very opportune and appropriate place to hold Her in his lap as they drove without groans and pointed glares from their prude fucking team. If a life of luxury had taught him anything, it was that limos were meant to hold beautiful women, and he’d be fucking damned if he didn’t hold his beautiful woman—the most beautiful, perfect fucking woman who he fucking loved—when he was given the opportunity. So he’d let Her pull them back to their apartment, changing as she stuffed their shit into a suitcase, and taken over when her heartbeat became too fucking fast and her glare at their clothing became almost violent.

“I’ve got it,” Ben had walked up behind Her, wrapping his arms over Her shoulders and kissing Her neck until she let out a breath that didn’t sound fucking mechanical. “Don’t lose your damn mind, Sunshine, I can fucking pack.”

She’d nodded slowly, tilting her head back to meet his eyes. “Thank you.” 

“Don’t,” he’d muttered, leaning down to kiss under Her jaw, and felt something light and perfectly fucking mind-numbing wrap around his brain like a crown as she made a high, breathy sound. “Go get changed, darling.” 

She’d let Ben guide her to the dresser, and begun to hum under her breath as she’d changed.

“Rainbow Connection.” He’d grunted as she’d returned to his side, hanging off Ben’s arms as She surveyed his packing job.

Her smile had been all content, easy joy, and Ben whole fucking heart had skipped. Then she’d started to actually fucking sing, and he’d genuinely considered just letting the team leave without them. Her voice was like honey and summer rain and something peaceful and strong that Ben hadn’t heard before Her, and never wanted to stop hearing for the rest of his fucking life. The only thing that kept him from staying here, where She was safe and happy and the whole goddamn world was just color and light and her perfect fucking smile, was that she’d kick his fucking ass if they missed this meeting.

They’d had five more minutes, though. And that was more than enough time for Ben to spin Her around until she was dizzy and giggling, swaying in his arms to the instruments that weren’t really there as She sang, looking at him with such infinite and impossibly fucking ceaseless love.

This was the fucking shit worth fighting for. This was where Ben was goddamn supposed to be. And even as he’d kept his arm over Her shoulder—letting Her drag the suitcase behind them and grabbing his shield before they left the apartment—Ben didn’t fucking want to go. He wanted to stay right here, and let this ungrateful world that kept fucking hurting Her crumble.

But She wouldn’t let that happen, and part of why Ben loved Her—there were countless fucking reasons, and the world would probably be swallowed by the Sun before he’d finished naming them all—was because she loved fucking everything. She had a goddamn unfathomable amount of love to hold in Her body, and most of it might be for Ben, but it still spilled into everywhere that Ben could see. Music sounded better, and jokes were funnier, and water quenched his thirst faster when she was around. The only thing Ben remained at her side was hungry. For more of this fucking beauty, and whatever bit of love She’d spare for him. And as long as She kept loving the world, he’d defend it for her. If Ben had a goddamn say in anything, the world wouldn’t fall to ruin until She told him to burn it.

And She wouldn’t. So Ben had to kiss Her head and mutter that he loved Her—just in case she hadn’t heard him the million other times he’d said it—and stay watchful and dependent at her side. Walk with her to the elevator, out to the parking lot, and over to a sleek, black limo that already had the engine fucking running.

“Bout fucking time,” Butcher had grunted, jerking his head to the limo doors as they approached. “We were two bleedin seconds from leavin you twats behind. I’m drivin, which means I’m in fuckin charge, and that means no hanky panky in my bloody limo.”

She’d wrinkled Her nose as Ben opened the door. “Hanky Panky? What are you, a fucking grandmother? You sound older than he does.” 

Butcher had scoffed as She’d bumped Ben’s shoulder. “Shut it, Love, least I know how fuckin wifi works.” 

“I know how wifi works,” Ben had grumbled into Her ear as Butcher turned away. “You put in the numbers and the radio shows you the internet.”

“That’s,” She’d paused, tilting Her head as Ben pulled her into the limo. “Not wrong. Good work, Pretty Boy.”

He’d grunted, shifting them until She was on his lap, not sparing a goddamn glance to the rest of the team. “I didn’t fucking miss the old shit, brat. I’m not-“ 

“Fucking old,” She’d grinned at him, voice dropping into that dog shit impression of Ben that She’d only gotten worse at. “You know better than any damn pussy fucker, Sunshine, that I am not old.” 

He’d rolled his eyes, kissing at the base of Her neck, and MM had let out a very loud cough that almost made Ben bash his brains in, because it caused Her beautiful, perfect face to twist away from him.

“Sorry, MM-“

MM had cut Her off with a heavy, almost pained sigh. “It isn’t that shit. I mean, we’d all really appreciate if you toned it the fuck down for the drive, but I’ve given up on trying to stop you motherfuckers from humping like dogs in heat all the goddamn time.”

She’d flushed, and Ben had taken over. “The fuck do you want then-“

“The Cornucopia.” MM had looked between Ben and Her and Hughie with a raised brow. “What the hell is it.”

She’d reached into her jacket pocket, pulled out the keys, and tossed them across the limo to MM. He’d blinked at Her, she’d explained Red River as Ben added some very fucking helpful nods and Hughie jumped in with small, stupid details that didn’t seem like they mattered, but She’d thanked him for anyways. 

And now, after a whole goddamn hour of sitting in the limo, they’d made no progress in figuring out what the fuck to do with the keys. Everyone had coughed up fifty dollars to Annie for Her bet of any item that’s not a bucket—Annie had forgiven Her debt, and Ben had taken Annie’s dish duty for two fucking months to make up for his own—and they’d passed them around the group for everyone to examine like they’d suddenly fucking have Vought Sex Dungeon engraved on the side.

“Maybe they’re to a storage unit?” Annie looked around the group, fidgeting with the keys in her hands, and MM shook his head.

“No, they’d have a label on them. And then we’d have to worry about-“

“What the fuck is in the storage unit.” She mumbled, leaning Her head back onto Ben’s shoulder. “I mean, no matter what those keys probably lead to the actual Cornucopia. It can’t just be keys.”

“But it’s different, right?” Hughie leaned forwards as he spoke, arms on his knees. “If it’s a storage unit, or a box, or, like, a whole building? And it matters that they’re keys, I mean that sort of, um, narrows it down.”

Ben frowned, opening his mouth to ask Hughie how the fuck that narrowed a goddamn thing down, when She squeeze his arm over her stomach.

A lot of Vought buildings don’t use physical keys, they use keycards. And those keys don’t look old, so it’s not a warehouse that just hasn’t been modernized.

Ben reached his hand up to tilt Her head back, moving her full attention from Hughie to him. What the fuck do you think it is.

I don’t know. She sighed, pulling Ben’s arms around her a little tighter. I mean, I have guesses, but-

What are they.

Ben could see Her teeth as they tugged at her lower lip, her fingers tapping against the back of his hand. They’re just theories, and none of them are concrete-

He grunted Her name in his head. Tell me your fucking theories.

They don’t-

If you say matter, I’ll crash the fucking car.

Grumpy. She gave him a fake pout, and Ben hauled her a little further up his chest, kissing the crook of Her neck.

Tell me. I won’t interrupt you, and you can talk them out. That always fucking helps you. 

Her fingers stilled against him, and when Ben pulled back she was watching him with something so gentle and adoring in her eyes it nearly fucking knocked him out. He could feel the full fucking force of Her love, crashing into his body and making everything so good. There was a soft smile playing on Her face, and Ben didn’t understand it. That was the smile she gave him when he said something supportive to Ryan, or grumbled an agreement with Butcher, or exchanged short, curt nods with MM. It was the smile She gave him when he made her pancakes, or proved he’d been listening to Her rant about nothing, or she caught him humming one of her songs in the shower, and none of his scowling or protests could deter her teasing.

I love you, Benjamin. Her voice was almost whispering in his head, and she reached up to trace the lines of his face. I really love you.

I fucking know that-

No, you don’t. She brushed hair from Ben’s eyes, and let out a small sigh. I love you so, so much. I love you, Ben. I really fucking love you.

Something felt almost fucking radiant in Ben’s body. It wasn’t the nuke, because that felt violent and hateful and still fucking painful, even within Ben’s control. This was comfortable and open and so fucking painfully glorious it might drive him mad. It was so goddamn strange, and easy, and he’d felt it before but not quite like this. This felt like when he’d rested against Her, but without any of the pain or the lump of failure in his throat. So—though he still didn’t fully fucking understand what she meant, Ben did know She loved him and never fucking doubted it—he nodded, and dropped his face back to her neck. I love you too, Sunshine. Talk.

It could be an apartment or house that the feds missed. It’s likely Edgar’s and not Vought’s, because if it’s important enough to hide Vought would’ve already taken it. Sage would’ve taken it. Maybe it’s an incredibly well-kept secret, and Sage is looking for it, and that’s why Edgar wants it now. But if it’s that, it’s probably not a house, because what would Sage need with a house. I don’t think it’s going to be something small, because Cornucopia implies plenty, and Edgar isn’t someone who misuses words. My bet is on a warehouse that Edgar’s keeping a lot of shit in. Vanessa seemed worried about what we’d do with it, which makes me think it’s something dangerous. She turned Her head, resting it against Ben’s. But that’s all I have.

Ben rolled his eyes. Still a fuck ton more than everyone else.

Shut up. She whacked Ben’s arm lightly, and he could feel her smile brushing against his forehead. What’s your bet.

My money is on your fucking money, darling.

That’s very sweet, but not the slightest bit helpful.

Tough shit, I’m not changing my answer. Ben nipped at Her slightly, smirking at the small squeak that left her lips. You’re the smartest one here by a damn mile. Money on you is safe fucking money.

Love has made you stupid, Benjamin.

No. He drew back up, his grin unrestrained as he took in Her perfect, pretty face, and her sharp, amused eyes, and all Her fucking love and adoration for, and knew that all of it was fucking his. Ben got to have this. He loved Her like she deserved, so he got to be the one she looked at with a smile and watched like he was everything. Love has made me smart as fuck. Which is why I know to put money on you, beautiful. Because you’re always fucking right.

They were so fucking close, Ben’s breath passing into her mouth, and Christ, She was going to kill him. Her lips had parted slightly, her hands over Ben’s arms—holding them in their rightful place against Her—gripping him like she was going to fall down, and She wanted him. Her thighs were rubbing for friction against his body, and her heartbeat had picked up, and Ben was going to fuck Her in the back of the limo. Everyone else was just going to have to suck it the fuck up, because She fucking wanted Ben and he wasn’t capable of denying her anything. 

Then MM said Her name, and Ben almost bit through this tongue at the way She squirmed above him and made his cock jump, and the way she was still holding onto him, and the fucking smell and feel of Her above him, and Christ he needed to fuck her-

“Catch,” MM grunted, and Ben grabbed the keys flying through the air before She even had time to react. “That wasn’t mean for you-“ 

“Shove it up your ass, MM.” Ben tucked the keys into Her pocket, holding MM’s glare. “What do you want.”

She pinched Ben’s arm. Rude, Benjamin-

He shouldn’t just fucking throw shit at you-

You throw things at me all the time- 

No, I don’t, you throw shit at me all the damn time, because you’re fucking mean to me- 

You’re invincible, Pretty Boy, I think you’ll survive some paper-

MM let out a loud, overdramatic cough. “If you can listen to me for five minutes, I’ll let you dumbasses brain-fuck each other all you want. Think you can make it five fucking minutes?”

Ben had no interest in making it five minutes, and She didn’t either. He’d shifted against Her, pressing himself into her ass, and her breath had hitched as her heart began to stumble in her chest. But She was too fucking kind and good and perfect, so She nodded, and MM continued. 

“You have to keep those on you,” he said, voice firm and jaw set. “And no making any moves with them until we’re all on board, this could be dangerous. That goes for everyone!” MM raised his voice, glare turning to the front of the limo. “That means you, motherfucker. No stealing the keys and going all vigilante!”

Butcher snorted from the front. “I ain’t the one for you to worry about, Mate. If anyone’s goin fuckin rogue, it’s Bonnie and Clyde over there.” 

“We’re not going to go rogue, Butcher.” She flipped off the divider between them and Butcher, a pretty glower on her face. “And if you try to steal the keys, I’ll burn your face off.”

“Fuckin shame, that’s my money maker-“ 

“Can we please not kill each other when there’s still two hours left of the drive?” Hughie had gone all fucking puppy-dog eyed—looking between Her and Butcher’s back like a whining child—and She gave him an apologetic smile. 

“Sorry, Hughie.” She turned back to MM, and She needed to stop wiggling around on Ben’s lap or he’d go fucking insane. “Is that it?” 

When MM nodded, She twisted back around, dropping Her head into Ben’s chest, and sighed. Ben let Her stay there as Hughie, Annie, and MM trailed off into a conversation he wasn’t paying attention to, tangling his fingers in Her hair and kneading at her skin. Her heartbeat was a soft, even hum in Her chest, and he didn’t need to feel Her fingers tapping on his back or hear the chew of her tongue to know She was thinking. He didn’t push it—waiting for Her to speak first—because She fit naturally against him, and nothing in him felt wrong, so She was okay. Just fucking thinking.

Benjamin? 

He hummed Her name back, between their heads, and she exhaled against him. 

We didn’t tell them about the V. The vial of it we found with the keys. 

Ben paused, glancing over at their team. Do you want to.

I don’t know. I, Her arms around him tightened, and She looked up, meeting Ben’s eyes with a frown. I don’t want to give it to Edgar. I don’t trust whatever intentions he has with it. But I don’t want to make more supes. It’s fighting fire with fire, and it’s not- She cut herself off, eyes roaming Ben’s face like she’d find an answer there. It’s not fair.

None of this is fair- 

I know, She sat up a little, hands moving to cup Ben’s jaw. I know this isn’t about fair. But it’s still not fucking fair. I know you asked for this, for the V, but I didn’t. No one else did. And that’s so fucking unfair. It’s so unfair, Ben, and I don’t, I mean. She took a long breath. You remember how much it hurt, I can’t do that to someone. Even for the mission.

He began to trace patterns on Her waist, studying her almost glossy, pleading eyes. She wasn’t spiraling—Her heartbeat was too steady—but she looked lost. Unsure and so fucking tired that it made Ben’s whole head heavy. 

And he needed to help. Ben needed to make this fucking better for Her, whatever it goddamn took.

Do you know why I volunteered for the Vought trials.

She paused, tilting her head at him. To impress your dad, Butcher told me before we woke you up.

Yeah. Ben let out a dry chuckle, holding Her gaze. Did the cockfuck tell you if it worked?

He said it didn’t. Her fingers began to play with the hair of Ben’s beard as She frowned at him. Why?

Because I did this shit to myself, I made myself Soldier Boy, and it didn’t mean a goddamn thing. Everyone loved me, and nobody gave a fuck about me-

I give a fuck about you, She gave him a small, sweet, toothless smile, and Ben didn’t even fucking bother to stop himself from returning it. 

If you’d let me talk, brat, Ben drawled between their heads, dropping his brow to Hers. I’m fucking getting there. I missed my own mother’s funeral because my father somehow managed to outlive her, and I didn’t want to see his old, ugly, evil fucking face. My whole goddamn life was about being Soldier Boy, I never had a single pussy fucker I trusted, and I wasn’t aging so I decided to just keep damn waiting until this proved worth something. And you, he squeezed his arms around her, brushing his lips against Hers in a slight, soft motion. Are worth something. I waited a fucking lifetime, and I found it.

She made a small, choked sound, and Her eyes on Ben’s were filled with all that love he could feel everywhere around him. In Her, and traded between their body, and making everything so fucking good.

I love you, Her voice was soft in his head, her hands holding Ben’s head against Hers. But I don’t-

Ben had to spell it out for Her. He’d expected that. The one fucking thing she never seemed to get was that She was the whole fucking world, and Ben would follow her everywhere. I love you. I fucking adore you, and it’s not fair that you’re cleaning up all the goddamn messes I helped make in your name, before I even fucking knew you.

In my-

I was Soldier Boy to make this shit worth something. Everything I did was for whatever the fuck would be worth something, and that’s you. I was just a fucking dumbass who did it wrong. Love has made me smarter, Sunshine, because I’m doing it right now, but I still did it fucking wrong before. And I made messes, and now the woman I love has to clean them up because none of this shit is fucking fair. That V is my V, that they made to make you, and that’s it. Butcher might end up with us, but it’s you and me. We can flush that V down the toilet, or throw it off a fucking building, but that’s it. It’s not fair for you to make that call, so we’re taking it off the goddamn table.

She was silent for a second, and when She spoke she was combing her fingers through Ben’s hair, mouth dropped in a soft frown. You didn’t make these messes, Ben.

Yeah I know, fucking Homelander- 

No. She gave a small shake of her head. Not Homelander either. That's the worst part, I think. That all of this is so fucking unfair, and no one person can pay for it.

What the fuck are you talking about.

She sighed. I’m saying that I can’t blame anyone. That none of this is fair, and I can’t blame Homelander for all of it. Voguelbaum created him, and Stillwell enabled him, and- 

I fucking helped in making him- 

But they didn’t tell you to. And you didn’t make the system that he’s thrived in. You helped build it, to a degree, but not all of it. And I don’t blame you. I’ve told you that. I’ve never blamed you for how unfair this is, or what happened to me.

And I’ve told you that you fucking should- 

But I don’t. She searched his eyes, her own almost pleading. I really don’t. I love you, Benjamin, and I don’t really care for Soldier Boy, but I haven’t ever blamed you for this. Even before you were my Ben, I never blamed you.

He still didn’t fucking understand Her. She should blame him. This shit was unfair, and they both knew that fair didn’t matter, but Ben would still never be properly fucking worthy of Her. He’d never make up for how he’d set in motion things that had goddamn hurt her. But She was still curled in his lap, calling him mine, and looking at him like he was worth something. 

Why.

Do you know the Bhagavad Gita?

Ben gave Her a flat glare. You know goddamn well- 

It’s Hindu scripture. And there’s a really famous passage that says “I am become death, shatterer of worlds.” It means the soldier isn’t responsible for the deaths of the war. You were, sort of, a soldier. And you did benefit, and you were a real fucking asshole, but you were willingly blind. You committed atrocious, and didn’t think twice, because that’s what soldiers are meant to do. You aren’t a victim, but these messes aren’t just yours. A lot of people helped you make them. Vought gave you compound V, and the government signed off on the trials, and your father told you that you were worthless and you wanted a way to prove him wrong. You were an unstable dick, but you didn’t tell them the solution was to make Homelander. And you didn’t raise Homelander, or tell him to hurt me. You’ve been one of the only people who’s tried to stop him from hurting me, and that’s why I don’t blame you. Many, many people contributed to this, and none of them have ever repented. You’re repenting, and this will always be fucking unfair, but it’s you and me. You’re not a soldier anymore. You’re fighting for people you care about instead of power or glory, and you’re trying to help me fix this, and I love you. And that’s what matters.

She was fucking perfect. Ben hadn’t followed half the damn words She passed down their connection, but he understood the gist. She was still too good, too kind, too fucking forgiving, and She loved him. This wasn’t fucking fair, but he was doing everything in his goddamn power to make it easier for Her, and she fucking loved him. Ben bumped Her nose with his, and a smile tugged at her lips.

Lot of smart fucking words to say you love me and don’t blame me.

Well, you weren’t fucking getting it, Pretty Boy. That’s not my fault. She pressed a light kiss to Ben’s check, humming against his beard. Thank you.

Don’t-

Nope. Thank you. I love you, and thank you.

Ben sighed, and let it the fuck go. He had a lifetime to finally get Her to stop fucking thanking him for things he was supposed to be doing. He was meant to love Her, and listen to her, and hold her like this, so she needed to stop fucking pretending it was some sort of labor he needed thanks for. But for now, as Her head dropped down to his shoulder and she buried her face in his neck—warm breath fanning over his skin, a light touch tracing over his bicep—Ben let this be enough. She—all by her goddamn self—was more than fucking enough, and so he dropped it.

I love you too. He muttered in Her head, something relaxing and blooming in his chest as she smiled against him. Whatever the hell you want to do with the V, we’ll do it. And my vote is flushing it down the goddamn toilet. You and I are strong enough to kick Homelander’s pussy dick into his asshole all by our goddamn selves.

Her nose wrinkled. Gross.

Shut up. He moved his hand to the back of her head, running his fingers through her hair until she was molded against him. You fucking love it.

I do. There was a moment of silence, Her fingers still tracing over Ben’s skin before resting against his chest. Ben?

He grunted, keeping his hand around her and against Her in steady patterns. Circles on her hips and hair wrapped between his fingers, her skin soft under his touch and heartbeat in an even rhythm Ben knew better than his own.

You’re worth something to me as well. 

I know-

No. Let me finish. She pushed up on him, holding his gaze with an almost anguished intensity. You’re worth everything to me. You are everything to me. I love you and adore you and I give so many fucks about you it’s insane. You’re my whole life, Benjamin, now and after. And you make all of this worth something for me as well.

The radiant warmth was everywhere inside of him now, but it was fed by the ache. The way Her voice in his head was pleading, like she needed Ben to understand, and if he didn’t it might hurt her. The way Her hands were curled in his shirt as she held herself up—like she was forcing herself not to collapse against him—and her words were wrapping over Ben’s body and seeping in his skin, all of it born from Her love for him. And it all made the ache in him slide into his throat, and tug at his tongue to say a million fucking things he didn’t have words for.

Simple was easier. The only words that never failed to make Her smile, and set her heart back to an even rhythm. The only thing he fully knew how to be certain of in the entire goddamn universe.

I love you, Sunshine.

Her face split into a soft, gentle smile. I love you too, Benjamin.

She fucking loved him, and that was rooted so deeply inside of Ben that he’d never stray from it. It made him stronger, holding him in a place he knew and loved and wanted to defend. He pulled Her a little higher up his torso, dropping his head to top of her chest and just fucking living there. Where her heartbeat was the loudest, and everything felt fucking good.

They’d worry about all this shit later. They had a whole fucking day ahead of them to worry about Singer and Her stepfather, and Homelander and Mallory and Edgar. And they’d spent months that felt like lives worrying about all these fucking messes, and Ben had spent lives before that making them without ever resting, or feeling fucking satiated by it.

He was satiated here. Leaning into her, with Her legs wrapped around his body and her head resting over his. Her body was slumped over him, every hitched breath when Ben ran a hand up her thigh or traced down her spine brushing against Ben’s ear, and this felt right. This felt fucking right, and Ben didn’t think he’d felt something this plainly natural in his life. It kept amazing him—over and fucking over—how he’d spent his whole life tearing things apart when all he’d had to do was fucking wait. It had made it easier when She’d been away from him and asked him to just wait for Her, because he had a lifetime of goddamn practice waiting for Her already. Waiting for something that wasn’t fucking salvation—because She hadn’t fixed him or saved him, that was fucking stupid—but better.

She wasn’t a cure. She was too silently wrathful to be a cure, made of too many sharp, spiking parts that she cut off for others to consume for Her to be a cure. She wasn’t for others, she just didn’t know how not to be. She was something that was meant to be worshipped, that had been made into a fucking offering. Turned into something like a cure, but never able to do it right, because it’s not what she was supposed to be.

Cures were made for something deadly and diseased. And Ben wasn’t a fucking saint, but he wasn’t sick. He’d just been angry. He’d been furious and bitter and vigilant, so he’d made himself lonely half by choice and half by how vicious his bite was when he was wronged.

She bit too. She didn’t cower or maul or run. She just bit back, and Her bite was a match to his. Less brute force, but more targeted. Right into Ben’s neck, and feeding something in him he hadn’t known was hungry. So She wasn’t a fucking cure, because cures took things away. She’d made him more. Given him something he’d always wanted, and never known existed. And now Ben would always be hungry, but he’ll be satiated. He found purpose. He’d had waited his whole fucking life for purpose, and it was Her. This was a goddamn purpose, something he was meant to do and be and have and give.

Are you hungry?

Ben leaned back, meeting Her eyes with a frown. What. 

I’m thinking about dinner. We’re staying in a hotel tonight, and the meeting with Singer isn’t until the morning, and I’m hungry. 

She gave him a fake pout, and Ben seriously fucking considered throwing Butcher out of the car to get Her to a fucking McDonalds. She probably liked McDonalds, everyone fucking liked McDonalds, and she always ate Ben’s burgers, so it wasn’t like they’d get fucked by the menu.

Just in case, he asked, What do you want?

She hummed, her fingers tapping against Ben’s jaw. What do hotels usually have? Lobster? Do they have lobster? 

Fancy hotels have lobster. And if this one doesn’t, I’ll find you some- 

Ben. She gave him a flat look, even as Her love swept through him like a wildfire. Where are you going to find me lobster. 

I don’t fucking know, the ocean- 

We’re on a river, those don’t have lobsters. 

Ben rolled his eyes. Fine, smartass, another restaurant- 

They’d make you pay for that, Pretty Boy, and we’re broke. If you keep losing bets at this rate, you’ll be on dish duty until after we kill Homelander.

What the fuck else am I supposed to do, they won’t forgive my debts like they do yours- 

Because you lose all the time. She shrugged, dropping Her brow to Ben’s as she smiled at him. And I cover you, when I have the money. 

We should both have the fucking money. Ben’s hands gripped Her body against him, and she must have read his next thought on his face, because She frowned and shook her head. 

Do not use the meeting with Singer to demand a pay raise, Benjamin. That’s not what it’s for. 

It’s not a pay raise, my love, it’s a fucking union. You and I aren’t going to do more of their shit for them until they give us some goddamn money- 

We both know we’re not going to unionize. She sighed, her breath passing into Ben’s m. We might not be legally dead anymore, but we’re still not CIA employees. 

We should be-

You’d have to do an interview with Mallory. Amusement danced in Her eyes, a small smile playing on her lips. And they’d run a background check. You can’t even do a background check, Benjamin, your social security number is negative five. 

Shut up. I am not fucking old, and we still need some goddamn money. I’ll tongue Butcher’s taint before I become these pussies fucking maid-

We’ll make money. She pressed a kiss to the corner of Ben’s mouth. If escorts don’t pan out, we can try birthday parties. I know a guy who has a very authentic Soldier Boy costume, and I think he’ll let me borrow it if I give him a blowjob.

Ben snorted. He’d let you borrow it if you asked him real pretty and made him a bagel, Sunshine, but I’m not doing fucking birthday parties- 

You wouldn’t even have to talk. I’d stand behind a curtain, and I can say everything for you. The kids would never know the difference. She grinned as Her voice in Ben’s head dropped to that gravelly impression of him. Hi, I’m Soldier Boy. New York. Eagles. Baseball. Boobs. Don’t do crack, kids, do Benzedrine. Don’t wear blue, it’s a pussy color, wear green. And if you’re ever in a fight, go for the other guy’s dick. I’m a million fucking years old, and I sing Rainbow Connection in the shower when I think nobody can hear, and I know you can fucking hear me Sunshine, but you don’t goddamn count-

Ben buried his head in Her neck, sucking and biting that one spot until her words trailed off into a tiny whimper.

Brat.

Cunt. Her voice was soft and needy, and Ben smirked against Her, kissing a wet trail up her jaw and over her face. Ben-

I love you so fucking much, Sunshine. He kissed around her pretty, already open mouth, trailing his tongue over her lips. And if we didn’t have company, I’d fuck you right here.

Ben felt Her heartbeat pick up under his careful, firm touches, but she didn’t pull away. We get our own room tonight, She let out a small, breathy sigh as Ben deepened the kiss. If you can keep it in your pants for a little while longer, I’ll let you do whatever you want to me.

How much longer.

She pulls away from him slightly, reaching between their bodies to grab Her phone. She paused as she swiped at Her screen, looking up at Ben with a frown. We really need to get you another phone-

Later. How much longer until I get to fuck you. 

She wrinkled her nose at him. Horny old man- 

Needy fucking brat. Ben shifted Her above him, letting his half-hard cock push between Her thighs, gritting his teeth as her legs tightened around him. How much- 

An hour. She dropped her phone back between their bodies, wrapping her arms around Ben’s neck and lowering her face so their cheeks brushed. Think you can make it? 

Ben scoffed, moving one hand down to squeeze at Her ass and smirking at her soft squeak in his ear. I’ll manage, Sunshine. 

He wasn’t going to manage. They fell into an easy silence, Her body curled over Ben’s and her hands playing thoughtlessly with the hair at the nape of his neck, and the longer they stayed like that the more he needed her. She still smelled like that flower shampoo, but there was grass lingering over it, and a third smell that invaded Ben’s senses and so clearly just fucking Her. It was like the goddamn apples in their apartment, and chocolate, and warm smoke and the fucking sun. Ben didn’t have a better way to put it, because really it was just fucking Her. Like an aphrodisiac or song that tugged on something in his brain and called him home. Back to Her, closer to Her, always with Her.

It probably fucking was Her. That piece of her that was alive inside of him, growing stronger and stronger the longer it stayed. 

Ben had no fucking intention of letting it leave. If holding Her like this—sitting in complete goddamn silence and caring for every perfect piece of her in his arms and mind—was what this part of Her needed to thrive, he’d hold her like this forever. She lived in Ben because he was safe to her. She given this part of her to him—even if She hadn’t actually meant to—and he’d never fail Her and let it feel pain. 

He fucking loved Her, and she was all around him in every fucking way but the one that was starting to strain at his pant, and that sense of her everywhere wasn’t doing him any favors to make it through the hour. He wanted to make that piece of Her light up inside him, watch her perfect, beautiful face grow blissfully relaxed and adoring as he worshiped Her. Prove to Her that he thought she was too fucking kind and good for anyone at all, but he’d never let Her be wrong about him. If She said that Ben was repenting, he’d do whatever trial was laid out before him to prove Her right.

But as much as he wanted to bury himself deep inside of Her and mutter praise he meant and promises he’d always fucking keep, the hum of Her heart was growing slower and softer, and Ben realized she’d fallen asleep. He could feel a small amount of drool on his neck—her hair tickling his nose and her grip on his neck becoming slack—and he couldn’t stop the small smile that crept over his face. She was fucking safe here, where Ben was allowed to touch her in small ways that made her hum in sleep against his skin. Where he could trace patterns on Her hips, keep a steady arm around her waist, and let a hand move slowly up her spine to tangle in her hair until she fell further into him was a content sigh. Ben kept his breathing even and slow, his eyes on the rest of their team in a warning of keep it the fuck down, or I’ll crack your head open, so nothing could disturb her sleep.

She didn’t have a single fucking nightmare. No smoke rose from Her body, and no distressed, strangled sounds escaped her mouth. Everything in Ben felt right and a little high, so he knew she was really, truly, really fucking good. And when the limo finally stopped and Butcher turned to address them from the front, Ben’s respect for their team fucking doubled as a chorus of hissed be quiets filled the limo.

Butcher scoffed. “She’s a big girl, she don’t need a nap-“

“Butcher,” MM whispered, his tone and expression venomous. “If you wake her up, I’m not going to stop Soldier Boy from killing you.” 

“Oh, come off it, Mate-“ 

“She never sleeps well, you asshole,” Annie’s voice was hushed, her eyes turning to Ben’s. “When was the last time she had a real, full night of sleep?” 

Ben couldn’t fucking remember. Even after she’d stopped taking the suppressants, she still woke up screaming and wrapped and fire and sobbing about fucking blood. She fell back asleep easier now, but Ben had received countless fucking burns across his arms and face as he held Her down, trying to bring her back to earth before she flew off the bed and burned right through the fucking roof. She always healed the twisted for him if they weren’t gone by morning, and Ben always fucked Her after to chase off any useless goddamn guilt in her eyes, but it kept happening. He didn’t know how to fix it, other than only staying, just like she’d asked. 

Annie must have seen the clench of his jaw—images of Her perfect face empty and hollow and broken flashing in Ben’s brain, echoes of her screams ringing in his ears—because she turned back to Butcher with a glare. “You just have to lower your voice, Butcher. Don’t be a dick.”

Butcher’s attention darted to Her—still steadily asleep against Ben—and rolled his eyes as he dropped his voice. “We got four rooms, and all the lovey dovey cunts will be sharin.” Butcher threw keycards to MM and Ben, who caught their’s with ease, and Hughie, who made a small yelp as Annie’s arm shot out, catching it for him. “Meetin with Singer is at 8am, and we got to be there at 7. You lot will meet me here at 6, and I don’t want to see your sorry fuckin faces until then.”

Ben could live with that. It was a little past midnight, and six hours of sleep was a fuck ton more than She usually got, so he’d take it and rest at Her side until morning. He shifted Her in his arms—moving her carefully up his chest, looping one arm under her knees—and carried her out of the limo, into the back entrance of the hotel, and up the stairs. MM had grabbed their suitcase, and Ben gave him a silent, firm nod as MM pushed into their room.

A hand shot out before Ben could kick the door closed, and MM’s gaze bore into Ben’s skull, his voice low. “She okay?” 

She would be. As long as Ben could do a goddamn thing about it, She’d be okay for the rest of her fucking life. “She’s good,” Ben grunted, glancing down to Her perfect, peaceful face, half smushed into his shoulder, hair falling over her eyes. So fucking beautiful, and happily where she belonged. “I’m taking care of her.”

He wasn’t sure why he said that. It certainly wasn’t for MM’s fucking approval, because the only person whose approval mattered was Hers. And Ben did take care of Her. He took very fucking good care of Her, because he fucking loved her, and she was the most important person in the world. And he sure as fuck didn’t need to say that he took care of Her, because he proved that he did in his every waking moment. 

Even right fucking now Ben was carrying her to bed, holding Her like she was something holier than life—she was—and planning to stay at Her side all night. Wrap his arms around her and hold her in the dark, then march at her side in the morning to face whatever the hell Singer had ready for them. And then he’d figure out where they kept lobster in DC, and get her some. And that’s what fucking mattered. Showing Her she was good. Only saying he was taking care of her wouldn’t mean a goddamn thing if he didn’t keep doing it, over and over and over until they were the last people left in the world, and a long while after that.

But MM gave a short nod, and Ben realized that the man had just believed him. MM might not fully trust Ben—and if he was being completely fucking honest that was still an understandable call, Ben would shoot everyone in the fucking head if they became a threat to Her or Ryan—but he trusted Ben with this. With Her. He trusted that when Ben said she’s good, he was telling the truth. 

And he was. With a muttered reminder from MM not to be late in the morning and the door closing—leaving Ben and Her alone, together with the nightlights of the city casting shadows over her sleeping features—She was happy. Content as Ben laid her down on the bed, keeping one hand on her thigh as he unzipped their suitcase. He found one of his softer shirts and—a little selfishly, but he couldn’t bring himself to feel bad or give a fuck because She wore his clothing all the goddamn time anyway—changed her into it. She shouldn’t sleep in fucking jeans or her bra, so Ben carefully stripped her down—every movement debilitate and slow and silent so as not to disturb or wake her—and pulled his shirt over her body, kissing her brow before sitting at the edge of their bed and trying to figure out how the fuck to get them food.

This wasn’t the same hotel as last time, but shit had always worked the same at every hotel in history, so Ben figured it out. He read the directory, called room service, and ordered everything.

“And, um,” a nervous, soft-voiced woman was on the other end of the line, listing off more shit for Ben to add to his list. “Would you like dessert, sir?”

“Of course I want fucking dessert-“

Don’t be mean to the hotel staff, Benjamin. Ben cut himself off as Her arms wrapped around his torso, and looked down to see her head in his lap, her face buried in his abdomen. They’re doing their best, and it’s late. 

Ben sighed, letting his free hand wander into her hair, and grunted into the phone, “dessert is good. Add it.” 

“Do you have anything in mind, or would you like, um, all of it too?” 

Sunshine- 

I’d like ice cream. She hummed against him, and Ben felt her soft smile against his body. Whatever flavor you want. 

“Ice cream,” Ben muttered, his eyes locked on Her, tucked and resting against him, so fucking perfect. “Vanilla. Two of them.” 

A small giggle escaped Her. You’re very predictable, Pretty Boy. 

Shut the fuck up. 

“That will come to,” Ben heard the lady on the other end swallow, and there was a moment of static silence on the phone. “$492. Are you sure-“

“Get me the fucking food lady, and I’ll give you a 20% tip.” 

Ben had no idea how much that would be, but the woman seemed happy with it, because she gave him an eager agreement before hanging up the line. 

“Food will be here soon,” Ben muttered Her name, and his heart might’ve stopped fucking working when she rolled over in his lap, a beautiful, sleepy expression on her perfect face. “You’re-“ 

“Don’t say tired, or I’ll punch you.” She grumbled, poking at Ben’s chest with a pout. “You’re not allowed to do that right now.”

“I didn’t do fucking shit-”

“You were going to,” she mumbled, face flushing. “You were going to make me go to sleep.” 

“We both know,” Ben drawled, smirking as he traced his thumb over her lips. “That I can’t make you do anything, darling. You never fucking listen to me.”

She buried her face back into Ben’s body, words muffled against his skin. “Fuck you.”

“I did promise to.” He hummed, glancing at the red numbers on their bedside table, reading 12:49. “But you need fucking sleep. We’re moving real damn early tomorrow, and you-“

“How early?”

“Six.”

She sighed against him, and Ben felt the alarm of wrong. Something is very wrong, because She’s hurting and that’s the worst fucking thing in the universe. 

He grunted Her name, pulling lightly at her hair. “Look at me.” 

When She rolled fully onto her back—Her eyes not hollow, but glossed over and soft—she just watched him. Waited for Ben to speak, one of her hands reaching up to touch his jaw, the whole fucking world just them. Together.

“What’s wrong. And don’t say nothing-“

“I don’t want to go tomorrow.” She whispered, and Ben froze. She sounded so fucking tired, and it was wrapping around his head and dragging his body down. Down to Her, to soothe her, to touch her and fucking fix this. “I know we have to, but I don’t want to, Ben. I’m,” she took a heavy breath. “I don’t want to.” 

“Then we fucking won’t.” He snapped. It was pretty goddamn simple. He’d steal them a car, and they’d drive home. The rest of the team could handle this, and that was fucking that- 

“We need to.” She gave Ben a small, sad smile, and he felt like someone was fucking stabbing him. “You know we need to. I have to be there for this-“ 

“You don’t have to-“ 

“I do.” She sat up, twisting until their legs were tangled and she was leaning against him, holding Ben’s face in her hands. “I have to. I need to see him.” 

Ben's arms wrapped around Her body as he scanned over her face. Only inches from his, so goddamn sad and tired, a so fucking beautiful. “Muller.”

She nodded, and Ben’s was going to break his teeth. For that pussies' own sake, Muller better be too much of a goddamn coward to show face tomorrow, or Ben would damn the consequences and kill him. V or no V, he was still someone that was fucking hurting Her. As She spoke her voice was too quiet, and her eyes looked so goddamn far away, and Ben felt fucking sick.

“He never,” She swallowed, and Ben remained silent. Right now his job was to fucking listen, and he was damn good at it. Rubbing circles on her lower back, holding whatever of her gaze she gave him, and watching her the whole time. “He never acknowledged I was dead. Or alive. Or anything.” She sighed, leaning her brow against Ben’s. “I don’t want to talk to him, Ben. I don’t want to hear what he believes.”

“Believes-“ 

“About me.” She mumbled, Her eyes closed and heartbeat not fast, but uneven. “What Homelander and Sage have said, what Annie’s said, and-“ She shook her head, nose brushing Ben’s. “Everything. All of it. What I’ve done, and what happened to me. Who I might be, if I’m a whore, or bitch, or liar, or traitor-”

Ben muttered Her name, waiting for her to look at him before he spoke. “You’re not any of that. He’s not your fucking family. He’s a worthless pussy, and if he believes the wrong shit it doesn’t change the goddamn truth.”

“I know. I know, it doesn’t, but-“ 

“No.” Ben moved at hand up, pulling one of Hers off his face as kissing her knuckles. “No fucking but-“ 

“Please,” Her voice was barely a breath, and Ben’s whole body hurt as he fell silent.“I’m not worried about Muller, Ben. I’m worried about my,” Her hand tangled in Ben’s, her grip like iron as she took a long breath. “I’m worried about my mom. He’s just an extension of her, and whatever he believes-” 

She cut Herself off with a half-sob, and Ben let smoke curl between their fingers, not flinching away as heat started to burn his skin. He’d hold Her through this fall and catch Her at the end. He’d always fucking catch her, but he knew she had to fall first. Ben had to hear everything spiraling through her insane, perfect brain so he could get his words fucking right when it was his turn to speak.

“I,” She took a shaking breath, and there was something tight and curled in her throat that Ben could feel. “I know I shouldn’t care. It’s been years, and I shouldn’t care, and I’ve had worse things-“ She made another strangled noise, her heart bouncing around her ribs. “Worse things happen to me since. But it still hurts, everything hurts. She said I wasn’t strong enough to be alone, Homelander said I’m not strong enough, and I’m not, Ben, I’m not. I’m so tired. And I’m so sick of being tired, but I’m not, I’m not strong enough to just fucking be better-“

That was enough. Ben had all he fucking needed to pull Her back down, and he’d be damned if he let Her think for another fucking second that she wasn’t fucking everything. 

“You don’t need to be fucking better, you are better.” Ben tilted his head up, her words falling into soft tears that made something flail around in his gut, and kissed the space between her eyes as he muttered against her skin. “No matter fucking what, you’re better. You’re not whatever the fuck they think you are. Any of them. They don’t know you, Sunshine, I fucking know you. And you’re smart and good and kind and beautiful and a goddamn powerful fucking problem and you’re perfect. You’re fucking perfect, so stop being stupid.”

She made a choked sound, fully falling against him, and as her arms wrapped around Ben’s neck all Her love bloomed in his body. It hurt, it fucking ripped him apart inside as she sobbed into him, shaking slightly in his hands and clinging to him like he was an anchor. Something holding Her together, that she trusted to keep her safe, and She fucking did. Because Ben folded his body over hers, and touched her right, and waited for this to pass. It always fucking passed, and they both knew it would return, but then they’d just wait it out together once more. Every single fucking thing would pass but them. She’d stay planted in Ben, covering everything in him and the world, and if they burned they’d burn together. And that was where the love in her made this pain worth it by a million fucking fold. Because this hurt—this killed Ben and lined cracks along his skull, twisting and rotting something in his heart—but then it passed, and everything was warm. Turning the rot to smoke, healing every crack, and spreading through Ben’s veins like a fucking drug. Like something sacred, that everyone chased but Ben got to have. That he’d somehow managed to earn, just by loving Her and caring for her and staying.

So when this passed, and Her breathing still ragged but her heart growing even, Her voice in Ben’s head was soft but not weak. She couldn’t be fucking weak if she tried. I’m sorry.

Before Ben could grunt between them for her to never fucking apologize, She looked up at him with a beautiful, full-lipped, toothless smile, her face glistening with evaporated tears. 

What’s- 

I don’t think this is how meeting the parents is supposed to go. I think we’re supposed to have dinner at an Olive Garden and not talk about Homelander at all.

Ben snorted, kissing the top of Her head. I don’t give fuck about Olive Garden- 

That’s not very family-oriented of you, Benjamin- 

And I don’t give a fuck about your parents. I care about you, Sunshine, and I have no fucking interest in impressing idiots pussies who don’t. 

Her love was fucking infinite in Ben’s body, and nobody had ever fucking looked at him like that but Her. Like She believed him, but didn’t believe he was real. Would you, um, I mean I know we’ve been keeping Violet away from this, but after, my dad and my other siblings- 

He grunted Her name between them, and a pretty flush covered her face. Whoever you want me to meet, I will. But if I think they’re being asshole cockheads, I’m not fucking standing for it. I love you, and nobody is allowed to tell you who the fuck you are- 

You tell me who I am all the time, She gave him an amused look. You literally just told me who I was.

Ben rolled his eyes. That’s not the fucking same. I’m not a pussy dumb fuck talking out of my ass, you’re the love of my fucking life and you were being an idiot. You’re not weak, and I’m not going to let people who don’t goddamn know shit tell you that you are- 

She kissed him, soft and sweet, her hands gliding up his chest to hold his jaw. Thanksgivings are going to be really awkward, if you call my family a bunch of fucking pussies the whole time.

Ben smirked against her. Good thing those pussies aren’t invited to our thanksgiving.

Who is-

Nobody. It’s going to be me, you, and a massive fucking sex marathon. 

She giggled, and even though the sound was quiet, it was real. She was fucking happy, here, with Ben. Not even going to pretend we’ll invite our friends? 

No. Ben twisted his face in half-mocked disgust. We’re going to need the entire goddamn turkey to ourselves, to make sure you have enough energy. I will not have you fucking tagging out before we get started. 

All I hear, She pulled back, and that was Her full smile. Her wide, infinite smile that contained the whole universe and was made of something so fucking bright and vital Ben would never find anything like it if he tried. Is that you’re not denying they’re our friends. 

Ben’s eyes narrowed. Impossibly clever, beautiful, perfect fucking woman, backing him into corners and knowing him too fucking well. He didn’t have an argument out of it, because if he said they weren’t she’d push it and win—something starting with our friends care about me, and ending with and you trust them with Ryan and I—and if he just agreed he’d never hear the goddamn end of it, so his only avenue was to roll her onto her back, leaving sloppy, wet kiss all over her face as she laughed and let out blissful sighs, muttering brat and fucking love you, Sunshine against her skin and down her throat right up until someone knocked on the door.

Her eyes grew comically wide as Ben dumped their order of food on the hotel table, her face falling into a plainly adorable gape as she looked up at him. “Did you order thanksgiving? I can’t eat all of this-“

“Then take whatever the fuck you want,” Ben looped his arm around Her waist, kissing the top of her head as she leaned onto his shoulder. “And I’ll eat whatever you don’t.”

She smiled at him, tilting her head to kiss his cheek, and hummed against him. “I can’t believe I’m in love with a dog.”

He scowled. “I am not a fucking dog-“

“You are, my love. You’re a massive fucking puppy, and I adore you.” 

Ben is pretty goddamn sure his heart stopped working and then got jumpstarted within the same fucking millisecond. She’d tugged herself away from him—filling up one of the paper plates hotel services had brought up before shuffling back to the bed, waiting for Ben to join her with a patient, expectant gaze—and he had to make his feet move. He’d wanted to stay there for the rest of his fucking life, where She’d called him my love, and he’d understood why her heart always skipped when Ben said it. He was Her’s. Every single fucking part of Ben was Her’s, and he couldn’t even bring himself to be mad about the dog comment, because She was fucking right. He’d follow her everywhere, and snarl at what threatened her, and taking whatever fucking scraps she offered him of her love.

He’d never have enough of Her love. It was better than any drug or drink or high, and it was for Ben. It was all goddamn his, and if that meant he had to be a fucking pathetic dog for Her, then so goddamn be it. Anyone would do that, love Her how she asked, because it made Her fucking smile and chased off the pain faster.

And Ben had learned that, in his life, he’d really only despised two people. He’d hated a lot of people, but that was hatred born of vengeance and a sour, white-hot fury that had festered in his body for most of his life and found an avenue out through the drums. Despising people wasn’t the same. It was born of true, raw, pure disgust and loathing. A channel for that fury that wasn’t about Ben’s own anger, but about twisting and morphing the fury into ardor and zealous protection. Turning the drums and wrath into something better, that targeted the only two pussy fucking idiots who made Her fucking cry. The only two asshole cum-fucks who knew exactly how to hurt Her, and weaponized it, making Her sob against Ben as she broke.

Nobody made Her fucking cry but Homelander and her mother. She made herself cry sometimes, but that wasn’t the fucking same. That was born of how much She cared and loved everything, and how she seemed to remember every goddamn thing anyone ever said and took it as gospel—when it fucking wasn’t—to who she was. When Homelander and her mother made Her cry, it was born of something evil. Something evil and cold and horrid and covered in bile and guts to carve her open. 

Ben would kill Homelander, if not for the world, for Her. And despite the truth that he had no fucking interest in trying to entertain anyone in Her life who made her fucking cry like that, he still wanted to meet her mother. Not to kill her, but just put the fear of God in her. Make the woman understand that her daughter was a goddamn miracle on Earth, and Ben was going to love Her until it was just them in a ruined world, watching the stars and laying in the grass and smiling. He’d love her like the perfect, dangerous, beautiful thing that had crawled to him covered in blood and dirt and grime that she was, wrapped in fire and still seeking warmth. Ben wanted to sneer at Her mother to never try to fucking bother them, because if the woman said one wrong thing to Her, Ben wouldn’t tolerate it. There wasn’t a fucking chance he was letting anyone make her look all fucking sad, when She was meant to be happy. He might not cut out tongues when people misstepped, but he’d stay wrapped around Her, a silent reminder to the world—to Her mother—that Ben loved Her, and she’d always fucking have him. However She wanted Ben, she’d get him. 

Ben would always hate that she never got to meet his mother, because they’d have fucking loved each other. His mother would’ve liked Her, a bit because everyone fucking liked Her, but mostly because She was better than Ben was. She was better thanany other pussy in the universe, and She was smart, and kind, and clever, and the type of beautiful his mother would’ve said made gods jealous. That was what his mother had always said he should find, even after he’d become Soldier Boy,and he’d never fucking gotten what the hell it meant before Her. He’d had countless beautiful women in his bed, and not one would’ve made gods jealous. They were just beautiful. There was so much fucking beauty in the world, and Soldier Boy got all of it, and Ben had decided that the made gods jealous shit was just something a mother told her son. 

He got it now though. She was the type of beauty that made gods fucking jealous. Because she was the type of beautiful they wrote stories about, made art and castles and temples for, and searched through the world to learn more words for beauty just to fucking compare Her to. And all the beauty in the universe lived inside of Her, and she was fucking perfect. So Ben’s mother would’ve loved Her, because she carried Ben’s whole fucking world just by existing. He’d have sat in silence as they talked about whatever the fuck mothers and daughters talked about, and She’d have hit him halfway through the conversation to ask him his opinion, then made a joke about his opinion with joy and love in Her eyes and Ben’s body, and he’d have smiled at Her, and when they stood up to leave his mother would’ve hugged Her and that would’ve been it. It would’ve confirmed something that Ben already fucking knew, but still wanted his mother to know as well. 

And something still sour and angry in Ben wished he could introduce Her to his father. One, quick meeting just to say fuck you, you old pussy. I am worth something, because I’m repenting, and I’m fighting for people I care about, and the most perfect woman in fucking history loves me, and she’s never wrong. Ben wouldn’t let his father speak to Her—he barely deserved to be in Her presence—but he’d brag about her. Tell his father that She was a brilliant fucking woman, and a fucking doctor, and never took any goddamn shortcuts, and She loved Ben. To tell his father that their last name would die with him, and he’d rot in a grave for the rest of time while She and Ben were fucking happy, and Ben gave her the world. 

He’d give this perfect fucking menace—curled at his side, wearing his shirt and eating chicken nuggets like a fucking animal—whatever she wanted or needed and asked for. His lungs and heart and guts out of his body, the sun to hold in her hands, a hundred fucking trees planted in her name. Ben would offer his life on a silver platter for Her to do whatever she pleased with it, which is why he almost snorted when She started stealing looks at his food, chewing on her lips and eyeing his fries like she hadn’t just practically fucking inhaled her own. 

He dumped them onto her plate without a word, and when Her face lit up with joy he didn’t fucking understand how anyone could fucking think to hurt Her. He was a little bias—not everyone was as fucking genius as Ben was to love her, or strong enough to be loved by her—but he still just didn’t goddamn get it. How a single goddamn pussy fucker could look at Her and consider being cruel to her. Even when he thought back to the beginning, Ben had never wanted to hurt her. He’d found Her annoying, and been mad about the whole borderline blackmailing shit, but he’d never wanted to make her cry. Her crying had always set off something primal and feral and confusing in his body, making his every thought this is fucking wrong. Something like Her shouldn’t hurt or be in pain. 

Ben coughed, and her pretty eyes shot up to meet his with a little bit of sauce hanging on her lip. Sauce that Ben got to wipe off with his thumb, eat, and smirk as Her mouth remained parted and her heart kicked into a faster gear.

“Ben-“

“I haven’t had a thanksgiving since the 50s.” Ben grunted, and wasn’t fucking sure where this was coming from. All he did know was that She fell silent to listen, and the words started to fucking vomit out of him, and he needed Her to understand that She was his family. That he’d never allow himself to be someone who made her cry. “And it was fucking shit. Food was fine, drinks were weak, and I went because my mother begged me to. Nobody seemed to get why I was there, my own family didn’t fucking know me because my father didn’t let my mom talk about me, and all I did the whole night was answer fucking Soldier Boy questions.” 

She blinked at him. “What are Soldier Boy questions?” 

“What was the war like,” Ben grunted. “If I shoot you will it hurt. Think you can fucking outdrink me or beat me in a race. Elvis and Sinatra a good time, Garland a good fuck. I wore my fucking supe suit there because I’d be shipping off to film some fucking movie in the morning, and my father didn’t look at me the whole time. I left early, and that was the fucking end of it. But,” Ben swallowed, and suddenly this was impossibly fucking difficult. He had to get this right. “I’d try it again. I could kill a turkey and you could burn it, and if you want the team we could fuck after they leave-“

“Ben.”

He cut himself off, and Her smile was so simply fucking sweet. It wasn’t the syrupy, over exaggerated and slightly crude one she gave when people tried to make her be nice when the situation didn’t fucking call for it. This was all fucking love and affection and want for Ben.

“When we get to November,” she whispered, and Ben’s whole body was frozen in place. As if, should he blink, he’d miss a single word or moment of her love. “I’d love to do thanksgiving with you and the team. I’d love to do anything with you, except killing the turkey.” Her nose wrinkled. “That’s gross.”

She’d love to do anything with him. She’d love to do anything with Ben.

“Good,” he muttered, moving their plates off to the side and pulling her with him towards the headboard, moving her to rest between his legs, his arms wrapping over her stomach as he kissed her neck and hummed in her ear. “Whatever the fuck you want, beautiful, as long as you’re not cooking.”

She twisted around in his hold, pushing his chest lightly as he grinned at her. “Fucking rude, Benjamin. I can cook perfectly well now, and I certainly a whole lot better than you are-“

“You’re better at most things than I am,” Ben shrugged. “And fuck me for trying to stop everyone from eating your piss-poor pie and getting fucking poisoned-“ 

“You love my pie. You won’t shut the fuck up about my pie.” There was a smug, proud look in her eyes at her dogshit innuendo, and Ben snorted. 

“That might be the only thing you’re not good at,” Ben said her name, kneading his hands against her skin. “That didn’t even make goddamn sense-“ 

“Fuck you, Ben, you got hard-“ 

“Because you’re fucking sitting on me, darling.” He leaned down, nipping at Her lower lip. “And that will always make me hard.” 

Her heart stumbled in her chest. “Shut up.” 

“No. I love you, and I’m never going to fucking apologize for wanting to fuck my woman.” Ben winked at Her. “And I always want to fuck you.” 

She cleared her throat, and her gaze was suddenly sharp. Her love still lived in Ben—running up and down his spine, eternal and so fucking powerful it might consume him, and he’d let it—but Her fingers were tapping on Ben’s chest, the gears of Her impossibly brilliant mind turning behind her eyes. 

“Ben?” 

He grunted, the grunt she’d said meant he was listening to her, and she let out a long breath. 

“Do you, have you thought about after?”

“After what.” 

“After this.” She made a gesture to the air, eyes still locked onto Ben’s. “All of this. If we kill Homelander-“ 

“When. When we fucking kill Homelander-” 

She gave him a flat look. “When we kill Homelander. What do you, um, what do you want after?” 

Ben knew exactly what he fucking wanted. Her. Whatever way he got to have her, he wanted her. But he didn’t know how to say that without sounding like a fucking dumbass, so he hesitated. One fucking second too long, because something is her eyes looked wounded, and Ben had to talk right fucking now. She deserved to be told with all the fucking poetry and art in the fucking universe, but that wasn’t Ben. He didn’t know how the hell to do that, but she also didn’t want anyone but Ben, so he settled on his way. The blunt, clear as fucking day truth.

He said Her name, moving a hand up to cup her cheek, letting his thumb run over her cheekbone. “Whatever the hell you want, I want as well. That’s fucking that.” 

“But I want to knowwhat you want.” She mumbled, hands fisting in his shirt. “I, I just want to hear about it. Don’t worry about, um,” her tongue peaked out from her lips, her chewing becoming rapid with Her heart. “Anything. What I’ll think, how I’ll react. I just want to know.” 

Ben’s hand on her hips stilled, and he clung to Her—alive inside him—to make sure She was serious. He had the feeling they both knew what Ben wanted, but he’d had no desire to say it aloud. Not when Homelander was still fucking alive, still trying to hurt her, and had been so fucking close to crossing that final, horrible, unspeakable line once more barely a few months ago.

But She was content inside of him. There wasn’t any sickness or cold or sense of wrong, only the pleading look in Her eyes and her hands turning the fabric of Ben’s shirt between them as she waited. 

“Swear that if you start to-“ 

“I’ll stop you,” She whispered, holding Ben’s gaze. “I promise. Please tell me.” 

“I want this.” He muttered, a careful ear on Her heart for the slightest stutter. “I want you and me, for the rest of fucking time.” 

He stopped, and hoped that was enough. And of course, it fucking wasn’t. 

She dropped her face on his shoulder. “And?” 

“That’s it-“ 

“Where do you want us to be?” She mumbled, and Ben could feel her eyes on his as she turned her head. “Rome? A little no name town? New York, LA-“

“No. Not fucking LA-“ 

“Then where-“ 

“Wherever the fuck you are, I’ll be fine-“ 

“Ben.” His eyes moved to watch her without his fucking permission. “I want to know what you want-“ 

“That is what I fucking want.” He grunted. “I just fucking want you and whatever the hell you want I’ll be good with. I don’t give a fuck where we are, because I’ll be there with you, and that’s what I want. If you want a little fucking postcard town, then we’ll go there. I’ll get a job in the woods so I don’t have to see anyone but you, and you can do whatever the fuck you want all day. If you want Rome, we’ll get you there and do the escort plan until we have a fucking mansion, and I’ll fuck you in every corner of it. If you ask I’ll fuck you full of kids, until we can run our own goddamn little league.” Ben had started, and now he couldn’t fucking stop. “If you want to stay in New York, we’ll find a goddamn apartment and have Annie and Hughie over for lunch, and I’ll take you to stupid fucking movies and we’ll dance the kitchen and sit on the roof until I carry you to bed. If you want to travel the world and help people, I’ll be right at your fucking side, and if you just want to go back to Boston I’ll be there as well. We can have a shitty house that’s older than I am, and you’ll do your decorating shit and be nice to all our stupid neighbors. You can do whatever the fuck smart people do, and I can teach our kids to fucking hate all your stupid sports teams, and we’ll drive them down to the fucking Cape for the summer, and when everyone’s asleep I’ll bring you outside and fuck you on the beach. I’ll fuck you anywhere, Sunshine. I’ll be fucking happy anywhere, because I’ll be wherever you are. So I don’t care what you give me, kids or no kids or a house or a fucking dumpster. As long as you’re there, I’ll be good.” 

Before Ben had even fucking finished speaking, She was smiling at him. And it was all raw fucking joy. “Okay,” She whispered, and rose back up Ben’s body, pressing her brow to his and still fucking smiling. “I’d like that.” 

“Which-“ 

“All of it.” She made a small, blissful sound. “Thank you.” 

He didn’t tell Her not to thank him. Ben just allowed one arm wrap around her waist, and his hand moved up to hold the back of Her head. He let their lips brush, but not further, and muttered. “I fucking love you, Sunshine. I’m serious-“ 

“I know you are.” Her hands glided down Ben’s chest, pushing Herself a little higher up, a little closer, on his chest. “You’re a huge, very serious, grumpy old cunt.” She closed the last bit of space between them, her lips fitting so fucking perfectly against Ben’s, her body melting into his like it was fucking meant to. Her words hummed through Ben’s blood, setting him alight. “And I love you too.” 

It was all he needed. Ben rolled the over, caging Her between him and the mattress—safe, fucking safe and goddamn happy—without ever breaking their kiss. Ben let her hands roam over his body, let her tug his shirt up and her hands trace paths over the bare skin of his chest and torso that lit him on fucking fire. 

“Off,” She mumbled into Ben’s mouth, pulling his shirt further up his chest. “Off, Ben, please-“ 

Ben raised himself up—keeping her against the bed, pinned under his weight by his thighs—and half ripped his shirt off his body before immediately returning. Propping himself up on one elbow, diving down to her neck and sucking and biting a path that made Her sigh, a whining and high sound, and grind up into his torso. 

“Want you,” he muttered Her name against her skin, his free hand moving under Her shirt—Ben’s shirt—to play with the waistline of her panties. “Want you all the fucking time, Sunshine. What do you-“ 

“You,” Her answer was breathless, soft and high and ending in a slight whine as Ben’s thumb pressed right over Her clothed clit. “Want you, Ben, please. Need you.“ 

He groaned as one of Her hands slid between their bodies, palming at his cock, tenting against Her thighs. “How do you-“ 

“Don’t care, just want you-“ 

Ben decided to do it slow. Gentle and fucking sweet. Too good, and all Ben’s to praise and tend to and revere. So he pulled his shirt off Her body—carefully this time, because it did fucking things to Ben when she wore his clothing and he never wanted to take that away from himself—and pressed his palm over her soaked panties, kissing a line down between and under her breasts, rising back up to take a nipple in his mouth, smirking at the high squeak that left her mouth as he sucked. 

Her hands had shot into his hair, her chest heaving as Ben continued his work, starting to roll his hand over her clit. “Ben-“

You’re so fucking beautiful, Sunshine. He let his teeth graze over her—forcing himself to keep focus as she bucked her hips up—and switched to the other nipple. Can’t believe you’re all fucking mine. So fucking good for me, darling, so goddamn perfect. 

“Please-“ 

She cut herself off with a whine as Ben flicked his tongue, his palm pushing down against her, halting her movements up into him. 

Want to fucking show you how perfect you are, my love. Let me fucking show you- 

Please, Ben, fuck, please- 

He grinned at the breathless tone of Her voice between their minds, and surged back up, crashing his mouth into Hers and kissing her until she moaned. Long and desperate, half a sound of need and half his name, already fucking wrecked without friction, Ben holding her still under him. 

“Want you to be loud,” he grunted Her name into her mouth. “Talk to me, tell me how fucking good it feels-“ 

She nodded frantically, and Ben chuckled. 

“Words-“ 

“Feels good,” She mumbled, words practically fucking slurred. “Feels so good, Ben, god-“ 

“Have I told you,” he drawled, swallowing Her whimper as he pressed his hand further against her. “How much you consume my every fucking thought. How much I think about you, how it’s a goddamn problem, how much I adore and love you?” 

“You’ve-“ She took a ragged breath as Ben’s head dropped to suck and lick at her neck. “I think you’ve mention it-“ 

“See, I still think you don’t fucking understand.” Ben bit at her skin and she rolled Her hips, pulling at his hair. “You’re my fucking life, Sunshine. And I’ll say it until you get it into your pretty head. You’re perfect, every single goddamn part of you. You’re too fucking clever, darling, so good and kind and brilliant.” Ben trailed back up, tugging at Her ear and kissing over her cheekbone before pressing his brow to hers. 

“Ben-“ 

He chuckled as she tried to chase his mouth, and started to rub large circles against her clit with his palm, tracing his fingers over the slit of her pussy, still covered by her underwear. 

“Fuck-“ 

“I can fucking feel that sharp, insane mind of yours inside me, beautiful.” He dropped his mouth just an inch further down, holding himself where their lips brushed as he spoke, but no further. “And I love you there the most. Love how fucking bright you are, Sunshine. This mouth of yours is so fucking smart,” he traced his lips over Hers, and she whimpered, eyes blown out and wide on his. “And you can be such a fucking brat, darling, but I goddamn love it. You’re my best fucking friend, and the most impossible fucking pain in my ass I could ever ask to love.”

She was fucking coming apart below him. Sighing in Ben’s mouth and letting him push his tongue down her throat, letting him kiss Her until he decided he should probably keep up with the plan he’d come up with, or else he’d just fucking kiss her until he came in his pants like a goddamn teenager.

Ben dragged his lips from Hers, and her sound of protest turned to a soft moan as Ben kissed every fucking inch of her face her could reach, love and want fucking rioting inside of him as she tried to move to offer him better access.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he muttered, dragging his hand up from her cunt to hold her face, running his fingers over her lips and cheekbones and jaw. “You’re a goddamn marvel, Sunshine, you’re fucking art.” 

“Benjamin-“ 

Her words were a long, breathy, desperate moan, and he dropped back down to her lips. “I know, my love. I’ll get there-”

“I want you there now, you fucking dick-“ 

“And you get my fucking dick,” Ben hummed Her name, feeling himself twitch in his pants as he glanced down at her body, squirming and grinding and fucking perfect under him. “Patience.” 

“I hate you-“ 

“You fucking love me.” He kissed back down Her neck, over her collarbones. You love how grumpy I am, and how hard I work, and my fucking dick. But I think what you love most, Ben squeezed where he was holding Her waist. Is how I fucking worship you like you deserve. Make you feel fucking good, Sunshine, take real good care of you- 

I, She took a long breath, hands tugging Ben’s face back up, Her eyes on his still lustful, but now soft as well. That’s not what I love most about you. 

He grunted Her name between their heads, but she pushed on. 

I love how much you care, period. You don’t half-ass anything, Benjamin, and that includes caring. I’ve never seen anyone care about anything so aggressively as you care about baseball and stupid war documentaries and ice cream. I’ve never been cared about as much as you care about me. I didn’t think it was possible to care about someone as much as you care about me. She smiled at him, and Ben was pretty goddamn sure his heart fucking exploded. You care about me and Ryan and everything else you love so violently and wrathfully and powerfully, and that’s what I love most about you.

Ben’s voice sounded fucking hoarse in his own head. Sunshine- 

But, She curled up, kissing Ben’s nose. It’s only one reason on a very long list, my love- 

That snapped something deep in Ben's head, and it cleared his brain to Her. Everything in the universe narrowed to Her. 

This kiss was fucking brutal. Ben’s hand fisted Her hair, his teeth and spit and tongue Hers as well, his whole body demanding more. He’d never been more fucking satiated, and he’d never be more fucking hungry.

I love you, he muttered Her name between their heads. I love every single goddamn thing about you. And I’ve got a whole fucking plan to show you, so for once in your goddamn life, let me do the talking, darling. Moan and scream and beg all you fucking want, but I talk.

But you said-

I changed my mind. No talking.

Ben-

Deal? 

She nodded, finger’s curling on Ben’s face as she writhed below him. Deal, fucking deal, just please- 

I’ve meant everything I said about how much I love you. How smart and kind and clever and perfect that mind of yours is. But fucking Christ, Sunshine, you’re a goddamn wet dream. 

She moaned as Ben moved back to Her body, worshiping Her shoulder and neck and chest with his mouth, Her hips and waist and ass with his hands.

Every single fucking thing about you is goddamn perfection, but these, Ben returned his mouth to Her nipple, her moan only spurring him on. Were crafted by some sort of evil god. They’re fucking magic, beautiful, you could fucking win a war with them. He raised his spare hand to knead at Her other breast, and a strangled sound that sounded like his name left her mouth. 

“God, please-“ 

I talk. Ben squeezed Her one last time, flicking her nipple before switching to soothe the hurt with his tongue, and moved his hand back up to Her mouth. Be fucking good for me, darling, and listen.

Ben- 

He pressed his fingers between Her lips, and she didn’t fucking hesitate to start sucking on them. Licking and nipping and fucking moaning around him, and he groaned against Her tit. 

Fucking Christ, you’re going to kill me. He left one last kiss on her nipple, rising up just enough to watch her. You’re so fucking beautiful-

She whined, bucking up into Ben’s fully hard cock, and Her eyes on his were a plea.

Want to cum, Sunshine? 

She only nodded, kicking his abdomen, and he chuckled, pulling his fingers away with a pop.

Just a little longer, darling. Hold on for me.

Ben didn’t wait to see the desperation in Her eyes—he could feel it in his fucking body—before he was dropping back down, kissing between her breasts, over her stomach, and leaving one soft, fucking sweet kiss over her clothed clit before leaning back and ripping off her panties, admiring his handiwork.

She was fucking dripping. Soaking the sheets, so fucking perfect, and all goddamn Ben’s.

You’ve got the best fucking legs I’ve ever seen, he muttered into her head, kissing and biting a loose pattern over her inner thighs. Could fucking die here. But this, Ben parted Her swollen pussy lips, smirking at her small gasp. Is like a fucking drug. You’re always so fucking wet for me, my love, I don’t even need to prep you. But I think I will anyway.

Ben pushed two fingers into Her, pumping slowly and groaning as she squeezed around him. Then, just for his fucking self, Ben pulled Her clit into his mouth and sucked. Going and going without pointless shit like air, scissoring and pushing his fingers in deeper, and only stopping when She screamed, and his whole fucking face got soaked. He felt and smelled and tasted Her fucking everywhere, and it was like fucking water. Earthier and harsher and so fucking Her, but just as goddamn critical to Ben’s life now.

He pushed himself off of Her, rising back up to his knees and groaning at the sight of Her. Fucking glowing, goddamn ruined. Looking at Ben like he was something holy and sacred, and to Her, he was. He could feel it fucking everywhere, and taste it on his tongue as he licked his lips.

He hoped She fucking lingered there for the rest of time. That every night for the rest of his life, Ben could run a hand through his beard, and end up with his fingers fucking covered in Her. 

You fucking squirted.

She nodded, and—despite the fucking choir of Her love around Ben in the world—only moaned, reaching up for him. 

Think you can do it again? 

She whined, and Ben chuckled. 

Words, darling- 

Yes, fuck Ben, please- 

Good girl. 

She practically flew off the fucking bed as her hips jerked up, her heart stuttering with her breath. God, fuck, please- 

Ben grinned, and he could never fucking deny her anything, so he ripped his pants off, stroking himself once, twice—just to how fucking beautiful she was—and pushed himself in with a groan. He fell over Her as he bottomed out, and fuck She was perfect. Fluttering around him, fitting him like they’d been fucking designed to be as close as goddamn possible, gasping in Ben’s ear as Her hands clawed at his back. 

Ready, Sunshine? 

Just move, you ass- 

He kissed Her—bruising and demanding and made of all this fucking love for Her that consumed Ben’s whole goddamn existence—and obeyed. 

Ben didn’t think he’d ever worked harder than to memorize every single fucking part of Her. What every pout and glare and smile meant, how She said his name and every small way she existed around him—in music and movies and shows and books and the flowers in MM’s garden—and how She moved. Ben had learned Her like fucking she was a fucking testament to how he should live, and he took it goddamn seriously. It was what helped him know how to fuck Her right. How to angle himself inside her so he was hitting that spot that always made Her let out a strangled moan, how to kiss her in a fucking rhythm as he pounded himself into her, and that, if he groaned when She squeezed around him, she’d start to try and grind up into him. 

This was better than a fucking drug. This was fucking oxygen, how warm and tight she was around him, how when Ben deepened their kiss she opened up for him and scratched his back, how sensitive She was—leaning into his every touch, moaning at every muttered and growled praise—and how he could fucking feel Her. How fucking perfect She was, finally around him in every single possible way. So fucking bright, a green mist that smelled like pine and vanilla and damn strawberries covering the room as she shinedlike fucking star under Ben, Her eyes watching him like he was something good. 

Ben was something good, for Her. It lived in how he tended and adored and cared for her, and he wanted to be something that was half as fucking perfect as she was, just so she’d let him stay here for the rest of fucking time. Buried deep inside Her, his thrusts becoming stuttered as he began to lose control—no fucking idiot pussy could blame him, though, because She was squirming under him and moaning his name so I was a miracle he lasted this long—and letting every single fucking thought of Her fall out of his mouth, down her throat.

“So fucking good,” he grunted Her name. “Taking me so fucking perfect. You sound like a fucking song, look so fucking beautiful all fucked out, love you, taking me so fucking well-“

He cut himself off with a groan as her head dropped to his jaw, kissing along his beard with sinful fucking whimpers. 

“Christ, you’re a goddamn miracle, fucking made for me.” Ben pushed one hand between their bodies, rolling his hips to press against the deepest part of her as he pinched and rubbed over her clit. 

Her mouth fell open in a silent scream, Her heart hitting that frantic pace that meant she was close, and when Her hands trying to push Ben further into her he moved faster, crashing his mouth back into her and growling Her name. 

“You’re fucking perfect.” Ben’s words became fast and rough, their brows pressed together so he could see every inch of Her beautiful face, his own orgasm pushing at his restraint. “You so fucking good, darling, good to everyone, so fucking good to me. I fucking love you-“

“Ben,” Her voice was a whisper of pure fucking need that almost sent Ben over the edge. “Please-“

He kissed Her again, soft and sweet as his movements become almost feral, splitting her fucking open on his cock. Cum for me, Sunshine, say my name-

She screamed—Ben’s name lost somewhere in many high, wrecked sounds of God and fuck—and Ben let go. Driven on by Her fucking squirting over him, her pussy contracting like she was trying to really fucking kill him, Ben made one last, long thrust as he emptied himself into Her body. He waited for Her breathy, blissful sigh that meant she was happy and high on pleasure before pressing one last, soft kiss to between Her eyes, tucking hair behind her ears, and lowering himself down. Covering her body in his like he could serve as a shield from fucking everything. From the daylight and blue sky, slowing creeping over them and threatening that morning was here, and they couldn’t fucking stay here forever. From the battle they were staged to fight, where Ben would have to just be fucking silent at Her side. From every single factor that neither of them could control, from everything that might hurt Her or make her cry. Every single weak thing that dared to pretend they were worthy sharing the same air that She fucking breathed. 

And She let them stay like that. With Ben’s body likely fucking dead-weight over her, his arms wrapped around her waist as he buried his head between her breasts, her hands even moving to hold his face, tilting it up for Ben to meet her gaze. 

He scanned over her face, perfect and fucking beautiful and all fucking Ben’s. “Hi, Sunshine.” 

“Hi, Benjamin, my love.” 

She couldn’t be allowed to fucking call him that. If Ben ever wanted to be a goddamn productive member of society, She couldn’t keep calling him my love. And, Christ on a fucking cross, Benjamin, my love, was worse. That made him short circuit and practically fucking gape at Her. It repeated over and over in his head, and he probably looked like an idiot fucking pussy, just gaping at Her, but fuck She was so pretty, and happy, and Ben’s and Her Her Her, everything in him kept calling Ben home to Her. 

Ben managed to regain just enough control over his stupid fucking lovestruck body to roll them over, tugging Her down until that bright, drug-like smile was right above him, Her arms holding her a few inches away from him. 

“You’re a fucking thief,” Ben drawled Her name, and was unable to contain a dumb fucking smile from overtaking his face. It was born from Her—hair messy, fucking naked, beautiful mouth still slightly swollen and pretty eyes still so dazed from sex—being so goddamn near him. Her smell that was half wrapped in salt from sweat and Ben’s cum, Her perfect face all fucking happy above him, Her smile and love fucking intoxicating. A high Ben never had to come down from, because even as She gave him a fake pout he just got higher. 

“I am not a thief, that’s mean-“ 

“You’re fucking mean.” He grabbed Her hips, pulling them down to press against his and letting Her sit over him. “And you’re a goddamn thief. I call you my love, you stole my goddamn idea-“

She scoffed, crossing her arms and glaring down at him. “You are not the first dummy to call their person my love, Pretty Boy-“ 

“I said it first with us-“ 

“Well you don’t get a patent over it-“ 

“The fuck I don’t.” 

They were glowering at each other, and Ben knew he’d lost when a soft smile crossed her face, a sharp look glinting in her eyes. “Well then I am a thief,” She crawled back down his body, bumping their noses and kissing along Ben’s jaw. “Because it’s mine now. I call you my love, and that’s that.”

He scowled, but it was getting harder to even keep up the charade of this fake fight when She was squirming above him and his hands were bruising at Her hips. “You don’t get to just fucking take it-“ 

“Yes, I do.” 

Ben hauled Her further up his body, fully moving her to collapse over him, a high yelp leaving her as Ben kissed every single fucking inch of skin he could angle his head to find. “Fucking brat.” He grunted, rutting slightly up into Her thighs and growing harder as he felt her wetness, dripping down her thighs. “Already so goddamn needy for me again, want me to fuck you good, darling? Again?” 

She was fucking perfect. It wasn’t Ben’s own damn bias or love or something fucking pathetic—but entirely goddamn warranted, She was his life and Ben was allowed to be a little bit of a fucking pussy about her—She was just so fucking clearly perfect. She might be the only person alive who was more dirty-minded and horny than Ben, and he pitied any fucker who’d tried to keep up with Her before him. Her head ended up thrown back as she rode him, a beautiful fucking squeak leaving her when Ben took back control, grabbing Her hips and drilling up into Her until her pretty eyes rolled back and she was shaking around him. 

When he found his release with Her own—letting Her grind over his cock and scrape at his abdomen as she made sounds that were fucking music—Ben had to take a long, heavy breath to stop himself from just rolling Her over and going for round three when he saw his cum leaking and coating her thighs. 

She giggled slightly, brushing some of Ben’s hair from his eyes. 

“What-“ 

“We really do fuck like rabbits,” She said, shifting around until their legs were tangled, pulling Ben’s arms over her body. “Hughie asked if it was the supe stamina, but I think it might just be us.” 

“You talked to Hughie about our sex life-“ 

She wrinkled her nose at him. “Technically I was talking to Annie, but Hughie was forced to listen. And halfway through the story about the dishes incident, he asked if copious amounts of sex was normal for two supes.” 

It wasn’t. Ben had fucked half the female supe population before Russia, and it might as well have been juvenile dry humping compared to what he did with her. But he was still caught on the talking to Annie shit. “What the fuck else do you tell her about us-“

“Normal friend stuff,” she shrugged, leaving soft kisses along his beard as She spoke. “How much I love you, how you made me pancakes for breakfast again, how good you are with Ryan and how adorably grumpy you get when we talk about books, how I’m going to bribe you to read something with Ryan and I, and Hughie and Annie are welcome read with us-“

“You’re going to fucking bribe me-“

She continued, kissing the bridge of Ben’s nose and holding his gaze. “Usually Hughie clocks out when I start talking about how much I love your dick, though-“

Ben raised his brows at Her. “You talk about my dick with fucking Hughie? What, are you telling Butcher about my balls-“

“I would if he would listen.” She smiled, dropping back down, kissing everywhere but Ben’s fucking lips. “Benjamin, my love, if you were fucking you, you’d never shut up about it either-“ 

His eyes narrowed. “You did it again.” 

She hummed, her smile so perfectly and beautifully mocking innocence. “I don’t know what you could possibly be talking about.”

Ben snaked one hand up her back, tangling his finger in her hair and moving her back his mouth. Kissing her until she was writhing and moaning above him, a tiny whine leaving her lips when he pulled away. 

“Ben-“ 

“You’re the love of my fucking life, Sunshine, and you should know that-“ 

“I do know that,” She whispered, and Ben could fucking feel it. Spreading between them, how he was just as critical to Her as She was to him. Her piece of him so fucking strong inside of him, twined into something so deep inside of Ben’s body he’d never fucking known about it before. “I know that all the time, Ben. And I need you to know that I love you.” She sighed, wrapping her arms around his neck. “You do so much for me, and I want to give you something back-“ 

“You give me more than fucking enough-“ 

She shook her head. “I want to do more. It’s just a name, Pretty Boy. You have a million of them for me, and I’m sure you’ll come up with more.” 

Ben groaned, because he’d fucking lost this one as well. She was too fucking pretty, half-pouting up at him and loving him and so fucking happy around him, alive inside him, and Ben needed to get his fucking shit together, but he didn’t want to. This was so fucking good, and She was so goddamn perfect, and when he made a grumbling relent, her smile was so fucking bright and sweet and all for him. 

“Thank you, Benjamin, my love.” 

She kissed him one last time, and Ben needed to get better at faking a genuine scowl, because right now he goddamn knew he looked just like the fucking puppy dog She kept accusing him of being. Watching Her and trying to act like he was annoyed by this, when everything in him was just Her. Making his whole fucking life better and loving him and wanting him and being so fucking annoying and he wouldn’t change a goddamn thing. 

“We could both fucking use it-“ 

“No.” She mumbled, burying her face in his neck. “Mine.” 

And Ben couldn’t fucking argue with that. He was Hers. He was holding Her against him as they both made a completely fucking pointless attempt to properly rest in the last hour before they had to get up, watching the light start to dance over her perfect face, and he wanted to be here for the rest of his goddamn life. 

He really fucking wanted to be with Her, forever. He’d always fucking burn with her, but he wanted to just stay here. No burning, just warm and love and good. In whatever goddamn form it took, Ben just really fucking wanted Her. 

She was half-asleep, and there was a chance she wouldn’t even hear him. But Ben muttered Her name anyway, and waited for her small sound of acknowledgement, her hand squeezing his bicep in a silent signal that she was listening. 

“I love you.” 

“I love you, too-“ 

“I really fucking love you,” Ben grunted. “And we should get married. Now.” 

Her heart hitched slightly, but all she did was smile against Ben’s skin. “You’re going to have to try harder than that, my love.” 

Ben snorted slightly, and knew that he would. He’d have to make it romantic. Something that she deserved, that made every single other fucking gesture in history seem fucking stupid. There would be music and flowers—she fucking loved music and flowers—and chocolate, and maybe a horse. Ben didn’t have a goddamn clue why he’d need a horse, but those things always seemed involved in romance somehow, so he’d have to figure out where the fuck to get a horse, and how to work it in with everything else. 

But then he looked down at Her—sleeping peacefully above Ben, breath warming his neck and lips brushing over his skin—and knew she wouldn’t give a fuck about a horse. He didn’t need to make it complicated, just do it right. 

Fuck, if he tried right now—more than just a grumbled idea that made Her love spark in his head and bones—Ben could probably get it right. He could roll her over, kiss her neck, cheeks, brow, and lips, and tell Her to fucking marry me. I love you, and I love every single part of you, and I want every single part of you, and I’ll spend the rest of my fucking life proving that to you, starting now. If you let me, I’ll pick you up and we can go find a judge and do it right goddamn now. I don’t have a ring, but I’ll find one, I’ll find you whatever the fuck you want, and that will be it. You and me, for the rest of fucking time, together. 

He didn’t, though. She was, somehow, fast asleep, and Ben had no desire to wake Her. Not when her face was so relaxed, and Ben could just lay here and care for her in silence. Hold Her until he saw the clock flash 5:30, and they had to move. 

They were silent getting ready. Ben wore his supe suit, She kept his shirt on—her eyes bleary and gaze slightly unfocused as she shuffled around the room—and Ben didn’t fight her when she grabbed their suitcase. Her grip on it was white-knuckled and smoking, and even though she was probably about to do fucking everything at the meeting for everyone else, she needed to be useful. Ben knew that drawn focus, and mechanical breathing, and rapid tapping of Moon River. It was her I’m doing this, my way, and that means doing it fucking right, face. It was the one that Ben knew he could help with an arm looped through hers and a kiss on the side of Her head, promising that he was fucking there, and not going anywhere.

The rest of the team seemed to know that face by now as well. Enough so for Butcher not to make any mocking comments about how that shirt was very obviously Ben’s, Annie and Hughie not to try and engage her in boring, pointless fucking conversation, and MM to only give her a tight nod as they tossed the suitcase in the back and climbed into the limo. 

The ride was completely silent. Her head was leaned back on Ben's shoulder, her eyes closed but heartbeat fast, and her finger still tapping, faster and faster, on Ben’s arm. 

He muttered Her name between their heads, and her eyes slowly opened, her face turning to look at him.

Ben. 

You’re going to be fucking fine. 

I know- 

I’m serious, he pushed Her a little further up his body, making their eyes level. You’re going to be fucking fine. We’re going to figure this out, no matter what happens, or what the pussies decide. We’ll take care of this, together. 

She swallowed, but gave Ben a soft, reassuring smile that didn’t hit her eyes. Together. I love you. 

I love you too. Ben paused, scanning over her face. If those cumfucks ask- 

We’re dating. Her smile grew a little wider, and her fingers stilled on Ben’s skin. Or fuck-buddy-brain-connected. My vote is- 

Ben kissed Her, squeezing her body once, and Her giggle into his mouth might be the best fucking thing he’s ever heard. 

You’re not allowed to vote on what we call things. 

She fake-pouted against him. This is a democracy, Benjamin- 

No, it’s not. He grinned, nipping on her lower lip. It’s a constitutional monarchy, where you’re the fucking Queen. And the Queen isn’t supposed to vote. 

She pulled back, giving Ben a wide, amused smile he could feel something soften in his stomach. Look who paid attention in civics class. 

I paid attention to you and Ryan, not some boring fucking history teacher. I’ve told you, your boobs have magical fucking powers, Sunshine. They move when you talk and I always fucking listen.

Gross. 

You love it. 

I do. She traced a hand over Ben’s jaw, the sharp smile playing over her features lighting up the whole goddamn world. Because we’re fuck-buddy-brain-connected. 

Ben rolled his eyes. Don’t call us that. 

Can I call us that on the Ben’o’phone? 

You can do whatever the fuck you want in here, Ben held Her hand on his face, kissing her palm. But if you tell Singer that we’re fuck-buddy-brain-connected, I’m not fucking you for a week.

Her eyes narrowed. That’s a bad bluff, Pretty Boy. 

It was. Ben wouldn’t make it two fucking days before he caved, even if all She did smile and talk to him. But he kept his face set and neutral, shrugging slightly. So fucking call me on it, Sunshine. 

Her tongue peaked between her lips as she chewed, nose twitching, and she sighed. Fuck you. 

Don’t call us that shit, Ben winked. And I will. Hard, this time, until you’re rolling around and can’t feel your fucking legs. Until we finally get you to really, properly squirt, and I can fucking taste it. Ben kissed Her nose, light and teasing. I’ll fuck until we break the goddamn bed, and you’re burning down the whole goddamn building with how good I make you cum. Think you’d like that, darling? He smirked at Her slack expression, pressing his thumb between her lips and feeling his cock twitch when they parted. Think you’d want me to make you cum so fucking hard you scream my name and light up like a fucking star? Think you could be a good girl and let go when I fuck you? 

Her eyes had gone clear of glazed, grinding thought, and clouded with a lust that called Ben like a fucking siren. He was a strong man, but not strong enough for this. Things like will and resolve didn’t matter when She looked at him like that. When Her hands were curled on Ben’s arm, and her breathing was ragged in a way that made things feel right, and there was a little bit of fucking drool lining her lips. The limo was starting to be washed in a golden haze that meant she was turned on and probably fucking soaking her underwear, so nobody would be strong in this situation. Every other single asshole would want to make good on those promises, because they were to Her and she was perfect. 

Ben was either about to try and secretly fuck her in front of everyone, or try the proposal again, so or everyone’s sake, it was good they arrived within the next few seconds. If they did try to fuck the secret thing wouldn’t last a damn minute, and if Ben proposed—the right way—they’d definitely be fucking, loud and hard and wet, after. And even if Hughie and Annie had heard about how good Ben fucked Her, they still weren’t allowed to see it. 

Butcher twisted around from the front, his eyes landing on Her as he said Her name. “You’re gonna need to wear a fuckin disguise, we ain’t able to risk anyone figurin out who you are.” 

She rolled Her eyes, dramatically pulling her sunglasses out of her jacket and placing them on her face. “Good?” 

Butcher frowned, turning to Hughie. “Oi, lad. Give her your fucking cap.” 

“My-“ 

“I’ve got it.” Annie tossed Her a black baseball cap from across the limo, giving Butcher a flat, annoyed look. “Hughie doesn’t have a hat, asshole, it’s mine-“ 

“Don’t matter whose hat it is, long as she,” Butcher jerked his head to Her. “Is the one wearin it. Indoors too, Love, I ain’t lookin for Homelander to drop through the ceiling-“ 

“Keep your tits on, Butcher.” She plopped the cap on her head with another sweeping, sarcastic gesture. “Everyone ready?” 

MM nodded. “Grace is already there, so hopefully we won’t have a wait time. Everyone try to be diplomatic for once in your lives, don’t say something you don’t think over five fucking times in your head, and no weapons.” 

Everyone looked at Ben and Butcher. 

“That cunt is a bloody weapon, I’m takin my gun-“ 

“I’ll do whatever the fuck I want-“ 

“Both of you,” She glared between Ben and Butcher, voice not as loud as theirs, but with a threat of violence that made even Butcher snap his jaw closed. “Shut the fuck up. No weapons in the White House. Near the president. Ben, you are a weapon, we’ll be fine. Butcher, if you remind the fucking secret service that Ben and I are weapons, they’ll make us wait outside, and you’ll be fucked. You need me for this, I’ve put the whole thing together. Got it?”

Ben made a grumbled agreement, and Butcher scowled, pulling out at least fifty fucking guns and placing them in the passenger’s seat, glaring at Her the whole time. She gave them both a pretty, smug smile, and pulled Ben with her, out of the limo. 

As they walked through the halls of the White House, flanked by many, incredibly fucking useless secret service agents—Her hand over Ben’s, on her shoulder, warmer than usual but not smoking—Ben nudged her shoulder.

You look fucking hot when you order everyone around, Sunshine. 

She huffed a small laugh. You always think I look hot. 

Because you’re always fucking hot- 

I think. She smiled up at him, squeezing his hand. That I could eat vomit and roll in shit, and you’d still think I’m hot. 

You would be. 

I would objectively not be- 

Yes, you fucking would be. Ben kissed Her brow. You’re objectively hot all the goddamn time.

And you’re an incredibly biased party, Benjamin, my love. 

Ben almost picked her up and to fuck her on one of these stupid fancy benches in the halls. The only thing that stopped him was a secret service agent, coming to a halt in the hall with no warning. 

“Christ, you pussy-“ 

Her free hand shot up, covering Ben’s mouth. “Is this it?” 

The agent nodded, and started listing off a bunch of fucking rules that Ben didn’t care about. Not when Her eyes had gone glass-like once more, and her heart was stumbling in her chest. 

You’ve fucking got this, Sunshine. We’re going to be fine. 

I know. She let out a long, slow breath, and leaned into Ben slightly. Ready? 

Fucking born it. 

Singer was at the center of the table—in the same spot as last time—with Mallory on one side and a man Ben had never seen before on the other. 

Ben hated him. She was perfect and beautiful, and Todd Muller was a slimy-looking weasel-fuck, wearing a red tie Ben wanted to strangle him with and looking at them with gleaming eyes Ben wanted to stab. The man hadn’t even spoken, and Ben’s fists were already goddamn curling at his side. There was something in him that told Ben wrong. Bad, vile, fucking wrong, and it came from Her. When the man smiled, a crude cold smirk that made Ben feel like he’d been shoved into a fucking swamp, the warning became an alarm, and Her grip on Ben’s hand over her shoulders started to smoke.

Muller—it was fucking Muller, Mallory had made some introductions that Ben barely heard over the blood lining his every thought—wouldn’t stop looking at Her, and Ben had to fight every fucking urge in his body to just step in front of her. 

And when Muller said Her name—said it fucking wrong, with no love and only callous venom—Ben thought his jaw might crack. 

“You’re looking healthy for a dead girl.” 

“Todd.” Her voice was bored and cold, Her heart pounding like a fucking war drum. “You’re looking like a bitch ass cock guzzler.” 

Even with the tension in the air—wired and electric and set to detonate—Ben still had to cough to cover his laugh, and Muller’s eyes shot to his. 

“Soldier Boy,” a hand was extended over the table. Ben forced himself not to break it. “Big fan-“ 

“Don’t be.” Her voice was dry. “He’s a Phillies fan.” 

Brat. 

Cunt. A small smile tugged at Her lips, even as Muller’s attention returned to her. 

“You’ve been busy,” Muller said Her name again, and Ben was going to pull out his tongue. “Learning about baseball, getting your fifteen minutes of fame, never bothering to tell your mother and me that you were alive-“ 

“I’d been dead to you and Mom for years,” She shrugged. “What’s legal death to being locked out and left to fend for myself?” 

“And I see you’re still a little-“ 

“Secretary Muller.” Mallory’s voice was even and cool, and she didn’t even fucking look at Her or Ben. “We agreed to keep personal lives out of this meeting.” 

Muller’s face twitched, but he fell back into his seat, eyes still trained on Her and Ben. 

“Alright, let’s get this shit over with.” Singer nodded to the chairs before them. “Sit, so we can talk like damn adults.” 

MM cleared his throat as they all sat, nodding to a silent, bored-looking Singer. “Thank you for seeing us again, sir.”

“Don’t.” Singer sighed, rubbing at his beard. “If I don’t follow up with you dumbasses, the brit,” he jerked his head to Butcher, who winked. “Will probably start sendin death threats and bombs to my family. But I ain’t here to small talk or do fucking therapy sessions, so I’m just gonna say it.” Singer sighed, looking around the room. “You’re not gettin any V. You’ve been determined to be a liability and are being ordered to explore other avenues to eliminate Homelander.”

The shocked, angry silence only lasted a moment before the room erupted in protests. Butcher shouting about Singer being a bloody fuckin cunt idiot, MM and Annie trying to provide reason, and Hughie trying to make everyone stop yelling. 

But She was silent, watching Muller. No smoke, no screams, only a pure, horrid sense of wrong and sick in Ben’s body. 

Ben. She didn’t look at him, but squeezed his arm. Don’t freak out. 

What- 

She coughed, a tiny amount of fire escaping her mouth, the whole room erupted in clicks of guns. All fucking aimed at Her. The only thing that kept Ben only rigid and alert at Her side, instead of launching himself over her body and bashing in the brains of any pussy that dared to fire, was Her quick, sharp glance in his direction, and smooth words in his head. 

I’ve got this. 

She had this. Ben was right here, killing anyone who fired was still very much an option, and she had this. She was leaning over the table, eyes flicking between Singer, Muller, and Mallory, and she had this. 

“What exactly about us is a liability?” She asked, tilting her head in mock thought. “That would justify you refusing to provide us with the only definitive weapon against Homelander?” 

“Your team has proven reckless,” Singer held Her gaze, which was a little fucking admirable. Ben had seen fucking Butcher stop talking under that glare, and Singer didn’t even seem to have the cocky death-wish Butcher had. “Countless times. Truth-con, both of Firecracker’s rallies, Tek Knight’s club massacre, the Believe Expo, and that’s just off the top of my damn head. We’re past takin gambles that don’t pay off, and this is a massive gamble that we ain’t able to afford.“

“How so?” She blinked at Singer, her face innocent and her fingers tapping on the table. “This is not a gamble. V will incapacitate Homelander.” 

“On your word.” Muller sneered. “All we have is your word, and there’s nothing to stop you from simply taking the V for your own use.” 

She scoffed, giving Muller a bored, amused look. “That can’t possibly be your real excuse. Half of us are already supes, and the other half hate supes-” 

“I don’t hate supes-“ 

Hughie’s mumble was cut off by Mallory’s curt, snapped words. “You have all been known to make questionable moves.” 

This time, Butcher laughed. “Come off it, Grace. Questionable moves is real high and fuckin mighty from you-“ 

“I have always remained within the bounds of the law-“ 

“The law,” She drawled. “Is not the end all be all of morality. We need to kill Homelander. This will help us. There isn’t another way. So please give me one really good reason why you can’t spare one vial of V so we can eliminate the most dangerous man alive.” 

There was a beat of tight, furious silence, and then Singer stood. 

“Grace, Todd,” he flattened his suit, letting out a labored breath. “I got a fuckin country to run, deal with this. You dumbasses,” he nodded across the table to the Boys. “Are real lucky we’re still housing and entertaining you. And you,” Singer said Her name, and the whole world was lined in red. “Consider playing that role you designed for yourself, if you’re so fuckin committed to the safety of our country.” 

Ben felt his fists curl, and Butcher looked like he would’ve stood up and tackled Singer down had it not been for the countless fucking guns still trained on their heads. 

Muller cleared his throat as the door, and their last fucking hope, closed. “We have determined that the pitch comes from a non-lucid party-“ 

“Shut the fuck up, Todd.” She wrinkled Her nose, lip curling. “Just say it’s because of me, so we can all move on.” 

“You are not important enough for this call to be made in your name-“ 

“Try again.” 

“Homelander is a chronic threat of unfathomable proportion. You are not qualified to handle such a delicate situation-“

“Wrong.” She shrugged, and Ben felt like he was watching a sparring match. Muller’s face was growing more and more red, and Her breathing more mechanical, both close to snapping, but she still pushed on. “I am qualified. I have field experience, and I’m literally a doctor. And you used chronic wrong. That’s not what it means-“ 

“I do not care what it means,” Muller hissed. “You are not stable or reliable, and we will not put the most dangerous drug in history into the hands of an over-emotional girl.” 

The table cracked under Ben’s hands, and something fucking dangerous crossed over Her face. 

“Oh, fuck.” MM muttered, leaning back in his chair and running a hand over his face as the air of the room started to wave in the heat. 

“So,” Her words were slow, wrathful. “You are risking America, risking the fucking world, because you think I’m the same unstable teenager I was thirteen fucking years ago.” 

Muller didn’t waver. “I believe you are the same girl you were because you are spoiled and believe you are owed something from the world. We are not a weapons bank-” 

“I am not owed V, it’s the only weapon to hold down Homelander that we have!” Her voice was growing louder, the room crackling with heat. “I want to kill my fucking abuser, that’s not spoiled-“ 

“And she’s helped us!“ Annie jumped in, glaring at Muller. “She’s not spoiled, she’s made a lot of the hard calls-“ 

“Starlight,” Mallory muttered, shooting Annie a look. “Drop it.” 

“No, Mallory! This is insane, you can’t think this is the best choice-“ 

“This is the president’s call-“ 

Butcher let out a cold, angry laugh. “You ain’t ever been this much of a bureaucratic bitch before, Grace-“

“Times are changing, Butcher-“ 

“And Grace here,” Muller gave Mallory a cold smirk. “Still wants to be in the running for the sweet VP spot. So now isn’t the time to disagree with Mr. President.” 

MM gaped at Mallory. “Are you being serious, Grace-“

“Oh, she is,” Muller turned his grin to the team. “And she’s still trying to make up ground for letting her two most dangerous and unreliable weapons,” his twisted gaze turned to Her and Ben. “Fall in love. What did you drug him with,” Muller sneered Her name. “To get Soldier Boy to follow you like a weak fucking baby?” 

Ben still had to let Her handle it. Even as he felt so fucking cold, physically restraining himself from launching across the table at Muller, he had to let Her handle it. 

“Ben isn’t weak, or a baby.“ She lifted her chin at Muller, and Ben swore he saw something fucking spark in the air. “And I’m not like you, Todd. I don’t need to offer someone something for them to love me.” A cold, hollow smirk played across Her lips. “Tell Mom I say hi, by the way.” 

Muller’s eyes narrowed. “You whoring little bitch-“ 

That was fucking it. Fuck letting Her handle it, that was the fucking line. 

Ben shot to his feet, letting the table crack further under his fist, and Muller’s words faded off. 

“Don’t ever fucking speak to her like that again in your pathetic, pussy life,” Ben growled. “Or I’ll fucking kill you.”

“Soldier Boy-“ 

Ben ignored MM’s low warning. “And you should count yourself real fucking lucky, because otherwise I’d break your fucking skull right goddamn now.” 

Muller cleared his throat, and a flash of fear crossed his face. “Careful, Soldier Boy.” Muller said, voice less smug and assured as he straightened his already too-straight tie. “Or we’ll find some Agent Orange and put you back in the box, and she won’t have anyone to do her dirty work.”

Ben could hear the fucking drums. He hadn’t heard the drums like this in months, but they were pounding in his head. Not from Muller—he could throw his against the wall and crack his spine without a thought—but from the thought of leaving Her alone. Failing Her again, leaving Her and Ryan to fight Homelander alone. And the drums beat with the knowledge that She’d burn herself out to wake Ben up, and he could never fucking let that happen- 

“You won’t get near him,” She hissed. “Or I’ll burn your dick off, and your fancy house down. And you,” Her wrath turned to Mallory, her words measured and toxic. “Are fucking pathetic. You know this is the wrong call, and you’re just letting it happen. Actually do something to kill Homelander, or deal with the consequences of him being alive.” 

She stood, looping Her arm through Ben’s. We need to leave, now. 

We’re not going fucking anywhere without the V- 

Ben. Her voice was firm in his head, and Ben realized her heart had slowed. Trust me. 

“Oi, where are you-“ 

“We’re done here,” She announced over Butcher, giving the team sharp, pointed looks. “Thank you,” She gave Mallory and Muller a too sweet, toxic smile. “For absolutely fucking nothing.” 

The rest of their team exchanged confused looks, their mouths opening and closing in protest, but She was on a strange sort of warpath. Pulling Ben behind Her into the hall, barely looking back to see their team scramble up as she turned to face Ben. 

Take my phone.

What the fuck are you- 

We’re not getting the V, Muller is the leak. 

How do you- 

He said Agent Orange. You told me Frenchie used that for his gas, that Sage based Hers on. Nobody except the Boys, Homelander, and Sage know that. It’s him. But we’ll be fine, you just need to play the music-

How the goddamn Christ is music going to help-

Neuman said they had a backup of V, that isn’t under the pentagon's control. I’m going to find it, and I need you to play a song, any song, really fucking loud. Don’t stop until I tell you to. Please. 

Ben nodded, putting Her rapid word in order in his own head. They didn’t have the V. There was more V, that wasn’t under the pentagon’s—Muller’s—control. She needed him to play music. Ben could defiantly fucking play music. 

He took Her phone, and she glanced behind him as their team stumbled into the hall. 

“Love, we ain’t fuckin done here-“ 

“Listen to me, Butcher.” Her voice was controlled and firm, and Ben glanced up from her phone to see that sharp, almost hazardous focus in her eyes. “We need to go now. I need to have my back here, please.”

Butcher blinked, and—by some fucking miracle—nodded. “Let’s bloody get a move on, then.” 

“Butcher-“ 

“Nah, Mate.” Butcher cut off MM with a shrug, sticking his hands in his pockets. “We ain’t gettin shit out of those cunts. Let’s cut our losses and move.” 

“That’s,” Annie frowned, watching Butcher carefully. “Uncharacteristically forgiving of you-“

“What can I say, I’m a changed fuckin man. Let’s go.” 

MM, Annie, and Hughie exchanged looks, but before they could protest further, Ben felt Her bump his shoulder, her eyes fixed behind him. 

Now. 

He didn’t think about what he was playing, because it didn’t fucking matter. It was fucking loud, and it caused the team to jump slightly and give him odd looks, but She nodded. And that’s what fucking mattered. 

And then She fucking vanished, like she had at Red River. Something rushed through Ben’s body—indescribable and elusive and not wrong but strange—the world practically stuttered, and She was gone. 

Annie’s mouth fell open. “Where-“ 

“Oh, shit.” Hughie looked over at Ben, his voice muffled by the blasting vocals and drums and guitar. “She’s-“ 

Ben didn’t want to talk over the music. He didn’t understand how this weird fucking power of Hers worked—She’d explained it a few times, and he’d still gotten lost in Her pretty eyes and big words—and now wasn’t the time to pull experiments with it. So, he just gave Hughie a sharp nod, and waited. 

Butcher didn’t seem phased by this in the goddamn slightest, looking around the hall and rolling his eyes before starting for the exit. 

A secret service agent blocked his path, and an argument started about turning off the music and where is the sixth member of your party—MM grunted something about the bathroom, and they seemed to buy it—but Ben didn’t fucking hear any of it. She was taking too long, there wasn’t any telling where the fuck She’d gone, and Ben could feel Her tugging him with the Pigeon instinct—he was worried out his damn mind, and She’d never get to know he’d called it that—from deep in the building. 

Then She started drawing closer, back to Ben, and the instinct started to grow electric and feral. She was closer, and something felt sick, and he should just fuck this and go fucking find her- 

She was walking down the hallway, and, without a word, looped Her arms through Ben’s. 

Go. 

Ben didn’t stop playing the music—despite the many people in suits glaring at him—as She half-marched down the hall. Her face was too neutral, almost statue-like, and she still wasn’t speaking. Ben could swear he could hear Her fucking singing, like a ghost or phantom on the wind, but Her mouth was closed. 

They made it out. The rest of their team still looked tense and confused, and She was still being so fucking weird, but they’d made it the fuck out. Ben knew She was with them—he could feel Her humming and taut somewhere in his head—but she still didn’t speak. 

Butcher started driving, and when they crossed the lines out of DC, Ben finally felt a tug of his arm. 

Off. 

When the song stopped and Ben looked back to Her, tucked against his side, her eyes were far away, and he could hear Her fucking brain moving. 

“You gonna bloody explain whatever the fuckin hell you just pulled-“ 

“Drive, Butcher.” She snapped, eyes still glazed over. “Fast.” 

The ride was silent for another ten minutes. The didn’t have the V. They were out of fucking options, and they still had to figure out the Cornucopia, and they were fucked- 

Ben. 

He glanced down at Her, and found her staring at him. What- 

I got it. 

You- 

I followed Mallory and Muller to the oval office, which is like, really small by the way- 

Ben grunted Her name, trying to keep her perfect, too fast mind on one track. What the fuck did you get. 

The location. Of the executive V. It’s in a warehouse in Boston. 

Ben nodded slowly. So let’s go fucking get it. 

We need to deal with Edgar first. She sighed, leaning her head on his shoulder. No loose ends. We can’t get this wrong. 

She squeezed Ben’s hand—resting on her waist—and cleared her throat. 

Ben frowned. You’re telling them- 

Everything. “Butcher, pull over.” 

“We’re on the fuckin freeway-“ 

“So find a rest stop or take the next exit.” 

Ben could hear Butcher’s sigh, but the ass wasn’t stupid enough to keep arguing—not when Her tone was so flat and forceful, her face painted in a tight, resolved look—so they were parked within two minutes. 

“Can I, uh,” Hughie coughed. “I need to go to the bathroom-“ 

“Hold it, lad.” Butcher twisted in his seat, shooting Her a glare. “The fuck was all that-“

“I’m going to talk, and you’re all going to listen. No talking until I’m done.” She looked around the team, leaning forward. “Got it?” 

They got some nods and mumbled agreements—everyone glancing at Ben’s set, purposefully unreadable face like he had shit to say—and She let out a long, heavy breath. Ben’s hand moved to Her thigh, steadying her heart a little further, and she began. 

“We have a leak. I caught it when we met with Edgar, who’s probably doing some cloak and dagger double-agent bullshit, because he knew stuff only Sage and Homelander would know. And I wasn’t sure, but then Ashley jumped ship and confirmed it-“ 

Annie blinked. “Ashley-“ 

“Jumped ship.” She snapped, fingers tapping on Ben’s hand. “At Red River. Don’t get mad at Hughie, I told him to keep it quiet while we were in DC. Ashley’s staying with Neuman, and they’ve both confirm that there’s a leak in either the government or CIA. It’s the government, because it’s Muller. I don’t,” She sighed, chewing on her lips. “I don’t know what the fuck Muller is doing, or what Sage promised him to flip, but it’s him. It’s probably the real reason why we didn’t get the V, but it’s fine. I,” She reached into her jacket, pulling out a folded up piece of paper. “Fixed it. Neuman told me there was an off-site stash of V for the government. Off the books, probably part of a deal for the government to help fund Red River. And I’ve got its location.” She leaned forward, passing the paper over to Annie. “Boston docks warehouse. We’ll need to take care of Edgar first, but that’s it. That’s our shot.” 

The limo was silent as MM and Hughie leaned over Annie’s shoulders, all three of them reading the paper—likely just some fucking evidence—and Butcher scowled at the air. 

“So,” Butcher drawled. “All we gotta do is go to Boston, nab some fuckin V from the federal government, and we’re bloody golden and set?” 

“Unless we fuck up,” She shrugged. “Yeah. And we can clean up Muller and Ashley after, but I think we need to clear Edgar first. He’s actually dangerous, and I’m not sure if he’s playing us or Sage. Muller’s just an idiot, and Ashley’s out of the picture for now.” 

“All she told you was there was a leak?” MM looked up from the paper with a frown. “Nothing else?” 

“She recorded Sage. And if she’s trying to infiltrate us, I burned out her tracker and she doesn’t have her phone. Neuman will keep an eye on her, and she won’t get anywhere close enough to us to get useful information for Sage.” 

“And how do you know Muller is the leak-“ 

“Butcher,” She cut off MM with a sigh. “What did Frenchie use to make the gas, when you met with Homelander and Sage in January?” 

Butcher frowned, something flashing in his eyes. “Agent Orange.” 

She nodded, and turned to Hughie and Annie. “And what did Sage base her gas on?” 

“Oh, God.” Annie shook her head, realization flashing in her eyes. “That’s not good-“ 

“What gas does Sage have?” MM grunted, looking around the limo. “None of you motherfuckers mentioned gas-“ 

“It’s against me,” Ben grunted, and felt Her hand cover his, still on her leg. “Homelander tried to use it during the tower fight. Pussy said Sage designed it after Frenchie’s.” 

“And only we know that,” Hughie mumbled. “Us and Vought. Shit-“ 

“That’s how I know it’s Muller,” She muttered. “And that’s how I know this is it. The V is there,” She nodded to the paper, slightly crumpled in Annie’s hands. “And we’re going to get it.” 

There was another moment of silence, broken by Butcher once more.

“That it, Love?”

 She nodded. “That’s it. We’re fucking finishing this.”

End Note: For such a stoic and emotionally stunted character, all of the Ben centric chapters sure do contain a lot of emotion.

Thank you for reading!! If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

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[gatorlovebot]

honesty

pairing: john price x fem reader summary: john doesn't like liars. wc: 2.4k warnings: overstimualtion, penetration. a/n: this was supposed to be just a quick little thing about you faking an orgasm for price...and then i started projecting. whoops!

The one thing John Price has always asked of you is honesty. It’s not a hard thing to do when he’s so good at sussing out lies. 

Like when he’s been on a mission for just a little too long and you’ve just had one of the worst days in recent memory. Over the phone you tell him, “Oh, my day was fine, that project at work is coming along nicely.”

“Love.” He stops you. 

“What?” You croak out over the other line, your resolve dropping with each passing second.

“Come on, sweetheart, give us the truth.” His voice is so deep and warm and just like that you’re folding yourself up in your worn couch cushions as your voice warbles across the line. Stuttering and hiccuping as you begin to explain that your day was not fine and that your boss keeps giving you more and more tasks with less and less time to complete each one and that you just really fucking miss him. 

He coos at you and tells you to slow down in that gentle yet commanding way he always does when your emotions start getting too big for you to talk through. He praises you for getting through the day and thanks you for even being on the phone with him. Guilt tugs at his shoulders, something in his brain telling him to let you go so you can unwind and relax on your own. But the selfish part of him always seems to win everytime - he always wants to be the one to hear your cries and chase them away with the smooth timber of his voice.

He can’t help himself to make a quip about your boss, “Overworking you like tha’, ya’ know - I could easily find his address, maybe show up at his place-”

“No, John,” You whine, “I need this job.”

“ No, you don’t, you can just stay-”

“John,” You interject as sternly as you can be with him to try to stop the conversation you two have had hundreds of times. 

“Sweetheart,” He starts, the pause making you think he was going to continue, going to push you just a little bit more, but all he says is, “Thanks for being honest.”

John had been home from a mission for a couple days and since then you’ve found yourself in this position too many times to even count. You on your back, legs high up on John’s shoulders as he connects you two by the hips. His breathing is heavy as he pumps himself into your wet cunt, his presence all encompassing. 

You’d come home from work a few hours prior, your first day back at the office since taking a few days off to really savor and enjoy your time with John. Your first day back had been just as bad as every other day at the office. The only thing holding you together was knowing that Price would be waiting for you when you got home.

Your home was warm and smelt delicious as you entered. Kicking off your shoes and shucking off your jacket to the sounds of John in the kitchen. The table was set and you turned to look in the kitchen  to see John pulling a pan out of the oven. “Oh, welcome home.” He must not have heard you come in over the sound of a record blaring from the record player he had tucked away on the counter. He put the pan down on the stove and turned the music down as he made his way over to you. You go easily into his arms as he engulfs you with his body. You nuzzle your face into his chest, taking in the scent of the deep green henley he was wearing - your laundry detergent and his natural musk. 

After a long, long moment he finally shoos you out of the kitchen to sit at the dining table as he plates up everything in the kitchen. Dinner is phenomenal - as always when John cooks. You're not bad in the kitchen but nothing you come up with for yourself is as good as what John makes for you when he’s home. 

After dinner you force John to let you help clean up with him in the kitchen. Once the leftovers are put in the fridge and the dishes are all put away he leads you back out of the kitchen again and sits you down on the couch. “Oh, so tense, sweetheart.” He coos at you as he pulls you closer to him and gets his big, rough hands on your shoulders. “What’s got my sweet girl so tense, huh?”

All you can do is hum as you melt into his hands. You hear him chuckle to himself behind you, “Don’t worry, love, I got ‘ya.”

Over time his hands start to wander from your shoulders down your back to fidget with the waistband of your pants. It’s you who decides to break the tension, skin feeling hot from his hands as you turn to face him, “Take me to bed, Captain.”

And that’s how you end up here, on your back, John above you and your orgasm feeling so close but just not close enough. It makes you feel awful. John had this perfect night for you and you couldn’t just shut your brain off for once. Time kept stretching by and you know John, know that his goal is to always make you cum first before he even thinks about himself. He usually has no problem at making you a wet, trembling mess but tonight you felt like it was just too far out of reach and the guilt was starting to settle in your stomach. You just wanted him to cum, to finally make him feel as good as he made you feel. It’s hard to think through the sounds of his hot grunts but you decide a little white lie is worth it for John. But he’s very good at reading you, almost too good. And he’s really good at pulling different kinds of orgasms out of you. Like when the way his cock slides against your walls takes you by surprise and your mouth drops open on a silent gasp and all you can do is look up at him with big, wet watery eyes and wonder how someone could make you feel this good. Or when he’s on his way to giving you your fourth orgasm and you can barely keep your eyes open and your tongue is hanging out of your mouth as you pant like a fucking dog in heat. You almost feel bad at the way your sensitive pussy attempts to clench around his cock but he still leans down to whisper, “Good girl.” in your ear. 

You settle for something a little less dramatic, though. You allow your hands to trail up his back to pull him closer to you so he’s not looking directly at your face. You grind your hips to meet his thrusts as you whisper out, “Oh, fuck.”

“You gonna cum for me, love?”

“Yes,” You whimper out emphatically and tack on a sultry moan for good measure before you try your best to clench your walls around his cock. You force yourself to tremble against the sheets underneath him but before you’re finished with your performance he’s sitting up and pulling out of you. 

“What the fuck was that?” He questioned, his face pulled into a confused expression.

Fuck. You’ve been caught. And you should just fess up to faking it so he - “What do you mean? I just came.”

He pulls himself back down to lean over you again, big body blanketing yours. “When you cum,” His voice is dark and low right by your ear, “You greedy little cunt tightens down on me so hard it feels like you’re trying to break my cock off to keep it inside you.”

Unfortunately for you, he’s not wrong. He sits back up again on his heels and before your brain can catch up and form a reply he’s pointing at your glistening cunt, “Whatever that was, was fucking pathetic.”

You gasp at the insult as shame burns in your chest. “John, I’m sorry.” You plead, your voice sounding pitiful even to your own ears. “I just - I just couldn’t make it happen but I really wanted you to cum.”

You couldn’t tell if he was even listening to your weak little ramble because he was leaning over the side of the bed, rooting around in the bottom drawer of your nightstand. You watch him pull out your vibrating wand, something you really only use when John is gone on a mission and you need quick relief. He’s not even looking at you, too busy looking at the buttons on the wand. His face is hardset and his eyes are dark and you know he’s not actually mad at you but you can’t help the nervous feeling bubbling up in your stomach. “John, are you mad at me?”

He finally looks back down at you where you’re still nestled in the pillows. His face is significantly softer as he simply states, “No.” He looks at you purposefully before dropping the toy next to you on the bed and leans back down over you again. Early on in your relationship you had mentioned to him that for whatever reason, being close to him made you feel more comfortable and at ease talking about your feelings and he’s never forgotten it. 

“Making you cum is my favorite thing, why would you deny me that?”

“John, I’m not denying you, I didn’t do it to hurt you or anything. I did it-”

“You did it because you wanted me to feel good, I know.” He cuts you off. “But I don’t give a shit about me. You want me to feel good? You let me make you feel good.” 

He declares it like it's all so simple. And you realize that it is that simple. John Price is a lot of things. He’s stubborn when he wants to be. Sometimes a little too intense, been a bit too crass a time or two. But John Price is a giver. He takes care of his people first and that’s one of the many things you love about him.

Too lost in your own thoughts for John’s liking you feel him start to paw at your waist, pulling your hips into the cradle of his own. He nuzzles his face along your neck, nosing behind your ear so he can whisper into your skin, “Please, sweet girl, let me take care of you. Let me provide for you.”

“Let me provide for you.”

It hits you deep in your gut and tickles an itch in your brain - the one that always says, “Just quit your job and let John take care of you, he’s so good at it.” 

His words have you begging in an instant, “Yes, John, please, take care of me.” You plead.

His grip on you tightens as he rumbles against your skin, obviously pleased with your response. “Thank you, love.” He whispers, “Now, you just got to promise me not to lie about this shit again.”

“I promise,” You whimper out as he sits up again.

“Good girl,” He praises before picking up the wand again. “For your honesty and vulnerability I think you deserve a reward.” He says cheekily, with a mischievous glint in his eyes as he clicks the vibe on. You watch, entranced, as he brings the wand down gently on your sensitive clit. You jolted at the shock of pleasure, having forgotten how powerful its vibrations were while letting out little shocked, “Oh my god”s. 

“Yeah, ya’ like that?” John teases down at you, “How about I give you something else?” He asks as you feel one of his fingers sink into your wet cunt. The vibe relentless on your clit and his finger dragging along that sensitive spot in your pussy has you writhing on his fingers in pleasure. Just minutes ago you were throwing in the towel when it came to reaching your high and now it felt like it was coming out of nowhere. 

As your stomach clenches and you feel pleasure zip up your thighs you feel a pang of panic - what if it will feel like too much? “John,” You gasp, “I can’t do it-”

“No, no, you got this,” He reassures you in that deep, soothing voice, “just hold on to me.”

And you do, reaching out to grasp his muscled forearm as your orgasm finally rips through you, bringing tears to your eyes at its intensity. You barely register John’s voice but it makes your gut twist in a delicious way, “There she is, that’s my girl.”

He clicks the vibe off and extracts his finger from your weeping cunt. He gathers you up in his arms, cradling you in his lap as you catch your breath. Even with an orgasm that good you were still craving more - craving him.

“Please, John.” You beg into his shoulder.

“Please, what, love? Just tell me and I’ll give it to ya’.” His words sounded almost frantic.

“Fuck me, John.”

The noise he makes in your ear is almost a growl as he lifts you higher in his lap to sink you down on his cock. You moan in tandem as your walls wrap deliciously around him. His thrusts are brutal, rocking you up and down in his lap and even with how sensitive you are you wouldn’t have it any other way. His cock glides across all your sensitive spots just right and when you bare down on him it makes your clit throb. He reaches down your body to place a big thumb on your clit, pressure sending you over the edge once again.

You tremble in his arms as he keeps you up, muttering, “Yeah, clench that cunt, make me cum.”

You hear him grunt as you feel his cock pulse within your walls, wet and warm, groaning through his orgasm. You both take a moment to catch your breath before he lays you back down against the soft sheets. “So,” He starts, still winded, “what did we learn about lying?”

“Um,” You pretend to think, “if I lie, you’ll fuck me really good?”

“No!” He barks out a laugh, making your heart sing, before he pinches your thigh, leaning down to swallow your surprised yelp in a searing kiss. 

When you pull away after a long, languid moment he’s about to speak but you beat him to it, “Thank you for making me be honest.” You blurt out.

His responding little smile makes you feel warm all the way to your bones. “Thanks for letting me take care of ya’.”

[nisuna]

I got super inspired last night, so here's a short drabble about the smut adventures of cult leader!geto x non-sorcerer!f!reader let's goo

I have more planned along the lines of: First time sleeping with him; Public sex in front of his followers; Making you call him by his First Name during sex; Saying I love you during sex; things I have mentioned in my headcannon post (I might do a poll for the next chapter 🙈)

Feel free to check out the headcannons for this AU for more context! (part 2 here!!)

TW: heavy nipple play; nipple sucking, biting, pinching; manipulative geto, short non-con, unprotected sex, creampie, mutual orgasm, FIRST KISS, trust issues, crying, he calls you "pet", power imbalance; cult leader!Geto x non-sorcerer!f!reader

<3masterlist<3

-----------1.2k words; strictly 18+ MDNI--------------

"Geto-samaaa... I need a break today. Please, no more.", you huffed in his arms. Your hips and back were starting to hurt from the countless nights that you've been spending with him.

"What do you mean, pet? Have I overworked you? Oh poor you. But there has to be something I can do to satisfy myself. Tell me, what activity do you enjoy that doesn't involve my cock?"

You felt stumped, but something did come to mind. "Che..."

"Hm? What was that, pet? You need to speak up.", he demanded, looking at you expectedly.

"Chest.", your timid voice broke the silence. "I like it when you play with my chest Geto-sama."

After hearing the words leave your mouth, a toothy grin appeared on his face.

"Good job. Look at you speaking your mind. Such a good pet. Well then, get ready.", he cooed, loosening the knot on your robe. "Tonight, I'm going to town on your chest. Nothing more, nothing less. I promise."

He didn't lie when he said he would go to town, because that's exactly what's been happening for the last half hour. You were on all fours above him while his hungry mouth was sucking in your right nipple. Much to your dismay, however, he was paying attention to the right one ONLY. And at this point, you were getting impatient.

"Mmh whyy~", you mewled.

That caught his attention as he unlatched his mouth from your sensitive nub.

"What is it, pet? You don't like it? That can't be, you were the one who suggested this in the first place. I can practically feel you dripping all over me."

"It's not that...", you mumbled, turning your head, because you didn't have the guts to face him right now.

"What is it then? You have to speak your mind. How elese am I supposed to know if I'm doing something you don't like, hm?"

You sucked in a deep brath and squeaked. "The.. the other one..."

"Hm? Come again?", he cocked an eyebrow, putting his fingers on your chin, finally making you look at him.

"The other one...why do you only play with the right one. What about the left?", you mumbled trailing off.

His mind went ding as he smiled up at you. "Oooh your other one wants attention as well, hm? Why didn't you say so? I'm more than happy to oblige." He hummed caressing your cheek with his large palm.

"However, that service comes at a price."

"What do you-?"

"You have to put in a quarter to play."

"A what? I don't think im following Geto-sama..."

"Oh my dumb little pet. I'm talking about this, of course.", he smiled while sliding his exposed cock through your wet folds.

"Mh- no you said we wouldn't do that today!", you tried your best not to succumb to temptation.

"Just the tip, pet. I promise. Do that for me and I'll suck on your tits all night long.", the way his deep and smooth voice rolled off his tongue like honey made you weak.

How could you say no to such an offer. He wouldn't lie to you right? Geto-sama was a man of his word, you can trust him.

So you reluctantly nodded your head yes and began lifting your hips. He was quick to grab you by your hips and push into you. As promised, he didn't go deep and stopped immediately. You felt relief wash over your body as you tried your best to adjust to the sudden intrusion.

You let out a few huffs before finally discarding your robe, saying. "Mhh, I did my part of the deal. Now's your turn...AH-", as you were about to press your left tit against his mouth, he bottomed out, making you whine his name.

"Geto samaaa noo, you promised we wouldn't.. you.. you lied to me.", you sobbed, digging your nails into his exposed chest. The tears collecting in your eyes almost made him pity you. Almost.

"I'll continue pampering you, don't worry, this is just a quick detour."

You had no energy to defend yourself in his tight grasp, so you let him bully his fat cock into your tight little hole without protest.

After a few thrusts, he sat up, keeping you on his lap and finally fulfilled his part of the deal. His tongue darted out to your neglected left nipple while he pinched your right one between his long fingers. His hips kept rocking up into you while his hungry eyes kept looking up at you all throughout his ministrations.

Your tears of disappointment soon turned into tears of pleasure as you started losing yourself in his grasp. It was when he started to stimulate your puffy clit as well that your mind went blank. The expressions you were making were so nasty, that they soon pushed him over the edge as well.

It was the first time both of you came at the same time and it was understandable that you lost your mind at the intense feeling. It was when he kept fucking you through your high that you lost your sense of self and didn't notice that you grabbed onto his face and pushed your lips against his. Your mouth fell open as a needy moan left your mouth at the feeling of getting filled to the brim. You were so out of it that you didn't notice his eyes shoot open and hands halt all movement.

This was the first time you two ever kissed. Cult leader geto always saw sex as an act of service and obedience. Never once has he thought about kissing someone like you. He talked you through it and prohibited you from ever trying, or else...

Your eyes shot open as well at the lack of reaction and you almost had a heart attack at the realisation of what you have just done.

You were beyond terrified, immediately pulling away and shivering at the sight of his blank expression and his sharp eyes burning holes into you.

You began trembling in his tight grasp as your next words came tumbling out. "I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. Geto-sama, please forgive me-", you sobbed.

As you were about to pull your hands away from his face, he stopped you. You were petrified, expecting the worst. But to your surprise you didn't feel a punishment come your way. Instead, you felt him press his lips against yours and holding your hand in place on his cheek. The kiss was hungry, his tongue prying your mouth open and all you could do was moan and just take it. When he finally pulled away, you didn't dare speak, blinking at him with fear evident in your eyes. Your confusion only grew when you heard him let out a chuckle.

"You surprised me for sure, pet. But let's continue, I quite liked it.", he mumbled.

You nodded, letting out the breath you were holding as you closed your eyes and puckered your lips. While you were making out, you felt him harden inside of you again. This was going to be a long night, after all.

From then on out each time he crashed his lips against yours and made you cream on his cock over and over he thought "fuck it" abandoning his principles. All because of you.

----

I'd love to hear your thoughts!

[taylorsburner]

Good Mornin'

✧Summary✧ Billy wakes up early to take care of your baby boy and prepares a sweet surprise for his wife for a cozy morning in bed.

a/n: this is my first Billy fic so I hope y’all like it. it's just something cute and fluffy🫶🏾

Unlike most mornings where you were the first to wake up (if your little Theo hadn’t beaten you to it), Billy was the early riser this time around. However, unlike other times he’d woken up earlier than usual, his early rising this morning had no obligations for him to be anywhere but home with his family.Upon waking up, Billy was immediately met with the soft babbling of Theo in his bassinet on your side of bed. He slowly inches out of his side of the bed, making sure to not disturb you. Your husband rounds the bed to get the baby, dressing himself in his discarded clothes from the night before on the way over.

“Good mornin’ little guy.” Billy whispers with a wide smile, reaching down to pick Theo up out of the bassinet. “Did you sleep well?” He continues on, quietly bouncing back and forth with the baby.

“Since it’s just you and me, how about we do something nice for mama huh?” Billy whispers down to Theo, his eyes immediately turning up to his father at the mention of you. “I’ll take that as a yes.” He chuckles. Billy reaches down to pull the covers further up your body before leaving the room, closing the door behind him.

Billy had the thought of making a nice breakfast in bed for you and had enlisted the help of Theo. First on their agenda was to pick out to a couple of flowers for a little sprucing. He let Theo grab whatever his eyes landed on (and plucked a couple with less crumpled petals) and headed back inside to get started on cooking.

With Theo on his hip your husband singlehandedly, quite literally, cooked a miniature breakfast spread for you. He made a little something for the baby, feeding him as he cooked to tie him over until you fed him.

❃❃❃❃

When you woke up you were a bit more refreshed than usual, appreciating the extra time you got to sleep. However, you were a bit confused to find Billy’s side of the bed empty and the bassinet next to you was empty as well. You were pleasantly welcomed though, by the smell of food coming from the kitchen.

You pull back the covers and smooth out your nightgown, leaving the bedroom and making your way to the kitchen to investigate. And as you approach the entryway, your eyes fall on your husband towering over the kitchen counter cooking with Theo on his hip. You couldn’t help but to melt at the sight.

Without making a sound you step into the kitchen behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist and resting your head between his shoulder blades.

“Good morning” You mumble against him, your words vibrating through his shirt.

“Good mornin’ honey.” Billy replies through a smile.

“Can’t go dissapearin’ on be like that.” You playfully scold. “I don’t like waking up by myself”

“I know, but I got a little somethin’ for ya. Supposed to be a-“ Before Billy could finish his sentence, Theo cuts him off, wanting to get your attention. “Seems like someone wants to talk to ya.” He chuckles motioning to the little boy clinging to him.

“Good morning my beautiful boy.” You coo, softly pulling the little boy from his father’s hip, immediately leaving kisses all over his chubby cheeks.

“I thought I was your beautiful boy.” Your husband pouts, exaggerating the puppy dog eyes and pouted lip.

“You are, he’s just a bit cuter.” You reason, lightly tickling the baby’s pudgy tummy, causing an immediate stream of giggles that absolutely melt both you and Billy.

“I guess you got me there darlin’.” He concedes, beaming down at you and Theo. “How ‘bout you two go back to bed so that I can still try and surprise you.”

“Yes daddy” You whisper just for him to hear as you reach up to peck his lips before heading back to your shared bedroom.

“What am I gonna do with you” Billy chuckles to himself, finishing up the remainder of your breakfast that was sizzling in the pan. ….. Not long after you and Theo get all snuggled up and cozy underneath the warm covers, Billy is making his way back into the bedroom. He carefully walks down the hall and into the room tightly holding a tray with the food he’d made for you and a jar containing the small bouquet of wildflowers he and Theo picked earlier in the morning.

“Now what were you and daddy up to while I was asleep?” You happy whisper down to your son who was beaming at the reappearance of his father.

“We figured we’d take care of you the way you always take care of us darlin’” Billy says, gently placing the tray down on the bed in front of you and pressing a kiss to your forehead before rounding the bed to get back in with you.

“You two are the sweetest boys in the world” You gush.

“Well you’re an even sweeter mama.” Billy lovingly counters, leaning in to plant a proper kiss to your lips.

“I love you.” You contently sigh against his lips

“And I love you more doll.” Billy replies, leaving your with one more kiss before settling back into his spot next to you. “Now eat up darlin’, don’t want you eatin’ a cold breakfast.” Your husband instructs, removing Theo from your arms to free up your hands to eat.

Unlike most mornings where you were the first to wake up (if your little Theo hadn’t beaten you to it), Billy was the early riser this time around. However, unlike other times he’d woken up earlier than usual, his early rising this morning had no obligations for him to be anywhere but home with his family.

Upon waking up, Billy was immediately met with the soft babbling of Theo in his bassinet on your side of bed. He slowly inches out of his side of the bed, making sure to not disturb you. Your husband rounds the bed to get the baby, dressing himself in his discarded clothes from the night before on the way over.

“Good mornin’ little guy.” Billy whispers with a wide smile, reaching down to pick Theo up out of the bassinet. “Did you sleep well?” He continues on, quietly bouncing back and forth with the baby.

“Since it’s just you and me, how about we do something nice for mama huh?” Billy whispers down to Theo, his eyes immediately turning up to his father at the mention of you. “I’ll take that as a yes.” He chuckles. Billy reaches down to pull the covers further up your body before leaving the room, closing the door behind him.

Billy had the thought of making a nice breakfast in bed for you and had enlisted the help of Theo. First on their agenda was to pick out to a couple of flowers for a little sprucing. He let Theo grab whatever his eyes landed on (and plucked a couple with less crumpled petals) and headed back inside to get started on cooking.

With Theo on his hip your husband singlehandedly, quite literally, cooked a miniature breakfast spread for you. He made a little something for the baby, feeding him as he cooked to tie him over until you fed him.

❃❃❃❃

When you woke up you were a bit more refreshed than usual, appreciating the extra time you got to sleep. However, you were a bit confused to find Billy’s side of the bed empty and the bassinet next to you was empty as well. You were pleasantly welcomed though, by the smell of food coming from the kitchen.

You pull back the covers and smooth out your nightgown,  leaving the bedroom and making your way to the kitchen to investigate. And as you approach the entryway, your eyes fall on your husband towering over the kitchen counter cooking with Theo on his hip. You couldn’t help but to melt at the sight.

Without making a sound you step into the kitchen behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist and resting your head between his shoulder blades.

“Good morning” You mumble against him, your words vibrating through his shirt.

“Good mornin’ honey.” Billy replies through a smile.

“Can’t go dissapearin’ on be like that.” You playfully scold. “I don’t like waking up by myself”

“I know, but I got a little somethin’ for ya. Supposed to be a-“ Before Billy could finish his sentence, Theo cuts him off, wanting to get your attention. “Seems like someone wants to talk to ya.” He chuckles motioning to the little boy clinging to him.

“Good morning my beautiful boy.” You coo, softly pulling the little boy from his father’s hip, immediately leaving kisses all over his chubby cheeks.

“I thought I was your beautiful boy.” Your husband pouts, exaggerating the puppy dog eyes and pouted lip.

“You are, he’s just a bit cuter.” You reason, lightly tickling the baby’s pudgy tummy, causing an immediate stream of giggles that absolutely melt both you and Billy.

“I guess you got me there darlin’.” He concedes, beaming down at you and Theo. “How ‘bout you two go back to bed so that I can still try and surprise you.”

“Yes daddy” You whisper just for him to hear as you reach up to peck his lips before heading back to your shared bedroom.

“What am I gonna do with you” Billy chuckles to himself, finishing up the remainder of your breakfast that was sizzling in the pan.

❃❃❃❃

Not long after you and Theo get all snuggled up and cozy underneath the warm covers, Billy is making his way back into the bedroom. He carefully walks down the hall and into the room tightly holding a tray with the food he’d made for you and a jar containing the small bouquet of wildflowers he and Theo picked earlier in the morning.

“Now what were you and daddy up to while I was asleep?” You happy whisper down to your son who was beaming at the reappearance of his father.

“We figured we’d take care of you the way you always take care of us darlin’” Billy says, gently placing the tray down on the bed in front of you and pressing a kiss to your forehead before rounding the bed to get back in with you. 

“You two are the sweetest boys in the world” You gush.

“Well you’re an even sweeter mama.” Billy lovingly counters, leaning in to plant a proper kiss to your lips. 

“I love you.” You contently sigh against his lips

“And I love you more doll.” Billy replies, leaving your with one more kiss before settling back into his spot next to you. “Now eat up darlin’, don’t want you eatin’ a cold breakfast.” Your husband instructs, removing Theo from your arms to free up your hands to eat.

The three of you end up spending the rest of your morning in bed, too wrapped up in each other to even bother doing anything else.

Request new stuff here♡

[the-queen-of-hell-666]

Again

Kinktober 2024 - Day 15

Pairing: Part-Kraken!Steve Rogers x Princess!Fem!Reader

Kink: Tentacles

Word Count: 1300+

Summary: You weren't supposed to go to the black lake, but you went anyway and ran into a monster.

Warnings: DUB-CON, explicit language, explicit sexual content (monster-fucking, vaginal penetration, double vaginal penetration, clit suction, slight bondage, possessive!Steve, dubious-con), innocent!reader, porn without much plot

a/n: This was my first time writing monster-fucking but I hope I did okay, cause I've read a few but it was rough to write. I know this is a gif of Ari but I thought that he would look like this in this fic. I hope you all enjoy!

Banners by @vase-of-lilies

Since you were a little girl, your parents told you to stay away from the black lake inside of the dark forest. It inhabited a dangerous creature, the villain from every fairytale your mother would tell you. As you grew older, the less you believed in the monster in the lake. You just believed that it was a story parents told their children to keep control over them. When you turned 20 years of age, your parents were constantly trying to find you a husband that could become your king by marriage. You were sick of it, you wanted a say in your own life, you hated your parents controlling you. 

So one night, you decided to sneak out, to see what monsters really lurked in the black lake. You were dressed in a black gown and a black cloak as you walked through the forest quietly. You made it to the black lake and the moon shone down on the calm waters and shone on the underbrush and the water lilies floating on the water. It was beautiful. The calmness of it all made you want to bask in the moonlight, to thank the goddess for the beauty of nature. You took your cape off and laid it on a large flat rock by the shore and you laid down on the soft silk and let your skin bask in the moonlight. 

You closed your eyes as you listened to the crickets, the gentle splashes of the water lapping at the shoreline, but you were startled by the sound of something in the water. You jolted up, your eyes scanning the dark as a man surfaced from the dark lake. Well, he was a man from the waist up, he had large tentacles coming from his lower half. He looked like a greek god in the moonlight as it shone on his smooth chest and the moonlight highlighted his dark blue tentacles as he waded in the water. His hair was golden and his eyes were a light shade of blue, he was muscular and beautiful. 

You gasped as his eyes landed on you as you laid on the rock, and you were quick to hop off of the rock and grab your cloak, “I-I’m sorry, s-sir.” You stuttered as you wrapped your cloak around you but when you went to walk away, you felt a tentacle wrap around your waist and gently pulled you towards the shore. 

“Where you going, doll? I’m not going to hurt you.” The man gave you a dark grin as he took in your innocent eyes.

“I-I didn’t know a-anyone was here.” You stuttered as he pulled you against his chest with his strong arms, his wet chest soaking into your bodice. 

“Well, I live here, Princess. You came onto my property.” He smirked as a smaller tentacle undid your cloak and tossed it away. “What’s your name, darlin’?” He asked as his strong hands rubbed up and down your waist, teasing the strings of your dress. You told him your name in a stutter and he tested it on his tongue in his low bartone making your thighs clench gently. “I’m Steve.” He said as his deft fingers undid your dress in record time. 

“W-what are you doing?” You asked quickly as you tried to pull away but his tentacles kept you pressed against him. 

“Making you more comfortable. I’m being a gracious host.” He smirked as he pushed your dress off of your shoulders and let it drop to the ground and you shivered as your bare body was exposed to the cool air. His blue eyes trailed down your exposed body making you blush under his gaze. “It’s been such a long time since I've had a pretty girl in my arms.” He hummed as his tentacles traced up your thighs and hips, teasing your skin by sucking light marks into your sensitive skin. 

You whimpered as his lips overtook yours in a hungry kiss and his strong arms tucked your hair behind your ears as his kiss grew deeper. Your arms wrapped around his neck and kissed him back with just as much vigor. You know that you shouldn’t be kissing him but you wanted to rebel, you wanted to show your parents that you weren’t a little girl anymore, so you put your body in the hands of the scary lake monster. His hands moved down to cup your mouth in between your thighs and teased his middle finger through your wet folds, making you gasp against his lips. You felt his smirk as he kissed down your jaw and to the skin of your neck. He led you to the smooth stone by the shore and laid you back on it and he slithered on top of you. His tentacles spread your legs so his torso could fit in between your legs and his hands caressed up your waist and he groped your breasts, as one tentacle slid up your inner thigh.

You gasped as you felt the suction cups tease your outer folds, and you looked up at Steve with wide eyes, “S-Steve?” You whined as two of his tentacles spread your folds and another one came up and teased over your hole and up to your clit. 

“Shh, doll. Just relax. I’m gonna make you feel so good.” He purred in your ear as his lips moved down to your chest and he sucked and nipped on your peaked nipples. His tentacle slid the tip of it into your weeping cunt making your back arch due to the thickness of the one tentacle. It slid further into your channel and the suction cups sucked and stroked your sensitive walls, making you moan and throw your head back. 

His arms wrapped around your waist and kept you pressed against him as the tentacle started thrusting in and out of your cunt as another tentacle sucked on your clit, making your thighs shake. You moaned louder as your nails dug into his broad shoulders as pleasure coursed through your body. “S-Steve, it’s too m-much. I can’t t-take it.” You cried as the tentacle inside of you sped up and the sound of your sopping cunt echoed through the forest. 

He chuckled darkly and nipped at your skin, “You can take it, dollface. I know you can. I know your pussy wants me, she’s so wet and tight. She keeps sucking me back in.” He grunted in your ear as his tentacle sped up inside of your cunt. He bit down on your breast, leaving a dark bruise in the shape of his teeth, making you cry out his name. “I know you’re close, princess. I can feel you clenching and twitching around me.” He smirked as he continued to bite and bruise your soft skin. 

You moaned loudly as a second tentacle slid in beside the first one and they both started pounding in and out of your cunt faster. Your back arched into his mouth and grinded down on his tentacles. Your hands gripped his shoulders tight and your nails dug into him hard. Your orgasm hit you like a ton of bricks as his tentacle sucked harder on your clit. You screamed his name as you squirted on his tentacles and you held onto him like a lifeline. You slumped against the rock as you came down from your orgasm and he kissed up your chest and to your lips. He kissed you passionately and you melted into his embrace before you felt him pull away. 

You whined and reached for him but all you heard was the splashing of water as he slinked back into the lake. Your chest still rising and falling rapidly as you took in what happened and how you wanted it to happen again and again.

[fallenneziah]

I loved your story "Flicker" with Optimus so much, I like to read it as a comforting thing ❤️ can you do like a part 2, but this time reader being the "stressed" and "exhausted" one, reader and optimus going (again) for a drive, maybe going out holding hands just killing time

Thank you!! ❤️ Have a good day!!

Ps:. If you're not taking requests ignore this.

Thank you, I'm really glad you enjoy it. Here is a little part 2 to Flicker.

You sighed heavily. You rubbed your temples, your paperwork looked no more enticing than it did half an hour ago. You knew you needed to get it done, but there was just too much going on.

Everything in your small world seemed to get more stressful. You'd think with the prospect of giant Autobot life walking amongst you you'd feel less alone, but that wasn't much the case.

Your pen fell from your hands, having fidgeted it too much between your fingers.

You sigh again and close your book, shoving the work back in your bag. Whatever. You just couldn't do it now.

Bumblebee whirred happily, jumping up and down around the yard, talking with Optimus. Although Optimus kept a very watchful optic on you.

He could point out the stress in your body and the very clear sadness that lingered with you.

Optimus put his servo up to calm the young scout. "Take a breath Bumblebee, perhaps you can go talk to Crosshairs??"

Bumblebee revved his engine at the prospect and looked over where the green Autobot was talking away with Drift. He crossed his arms and turned up his helm.

Optimus chuckled. What would he do with those two. No matter, you were walking away and he needed to catch you.

You know, because he was almost 30ft tall, catching up to you wasn't a problem at all.

"Y/n, may we talk??"

You looked up at him and nodded. "Hey Optimus."

Optimus got down on one knee and looked at you, examining your face.

"Are you alright young one??"

You huff at the nickname and approach his servo, placing your hand on his digit. "I'm just having a bad day. There's a lot of stuff going on,." You shrug.

"You do seem very distracted. It is stressing you out." He says matter of factly.

"I know, but it's not a big deal."

Optimus, not entirely satisfied with your current state pulled away and transformed, opening the door of his truck.

"Oh?" You hum. "And where are we going??"

"That is a secret." He replied.

You shrugged and tossed your backpack in the front seat. You climbed up to his passenger door and got comfortable in the passenger seat.

The seatbelt came down and clicked around you, locking you in.

He set off down the road, the end of the day coming soon, looking out the window at the evening light took your attention in the silence.

"So, what is this paperwork you must complete?"

You look over at the steering wheel. You assume that If his face was anywhere it would probably be there.

"It's just for work."

"It seems to have you stressed."

You nodded, scratching at your arm.

"I have to have it finished soon. It's no big deal."

Optimus hummed.

You drove down the road a long way, into the city and then back out. The sun was really setting by the time Optimus decided to pull over. Along a deserted road out in the fields. Somewhere both of you could go, not be seen and just hang out.

He transformed and looked out across the dusty land.

"Where are we??" You walked along the road, squinting to see if you could find where you were supposed to be going.

Optimus bent down and held out his hand for you to step onto. You did so, settling in his palm and looking around at the world.

Optimus walked into a small field along the road as the sun set just right.

Orange and deep red streaked across the sky. Pink flaked off and dyed the surrounding scene a beautiful color. Bathed in the glorious light of the dim night glow.

You relaxed in his servo, watching the sun set. You held onto his index digit, smoothing your hand over the rough metal.

Optimus watches you, curious of everything going through your mind.

"I understand that work among humans is demanding task sometimes," He says. "But all humans deserve to be relieved of their duties for a time. You especially."

You look up at him and smile. You lay back against his palm, letting your legs dangle over the edge.

Optimus finds a place along the grassy area and sits down, careful not to rattle you too much.

He relaxes, holding you in his palm, close to his chest. You both watch the sunset, admiring it as it went down and took all the beautiful colors with it.

It did relax you. And for a while you forgot all about the stress of your work. You loved these moments with Optimus no matter how long or small they came.

"I enjoy your sunsets. We did not get many sunsets on Cybertron."

"You didn't?"

"The many moons and planets often blocked the sun by the time it fully orbited around your planet, and would keep us from seeing the glow I suppose."

"That and it was always very far away."

You hummed. "Well, I'm glad we could see one together."

You held his digit as tightly as you could. The exhaustion from the long work day finally starting to catch up with you.

"I am glad I get to spend this time with you."

Optimus noticed your eyes fluttering closed and smiled. The sun is fully setting, darkness bleeding into the beautiful colors and setting the tone for the night. "Shall we go home, you're looking about ready for recharge."

You nod slowly, rubbing your eyes just to stay awake a big longer.

"Thank you Optimus, for bringing me out here. I always love doing this."

"As do I, your presence is always a comfort."

You smile and slide off his hand when he brings you back to the ground. He transforms and pops open the driver's side door, letting you climb in.

He straps you in and you lay your head back against the headrest.

"I think your my favorite Autobot Optimus."

He chuckles. "You think? Who should I be worried would take my place??"

You smirk. "Drift."

Optimus scoffs playfully. "Of course it's Drift..."

You chuckle and pat the steering wheel. "Optimus, I'm only kidding, you are my favorite 'bot."

"I can accept that. Thank you Y/n."

You hum, your eyes starting to close. The world starts to slow down as you sink back into the seat and let the exhaustion finally catch up with you.

"You're welcome..."

Optimus feels his spark swell with love. Something he hadn't felt truly for a while. But having you around was refreshing, hanging out with you always brought him joy.

And he got to help you, just like you helped him.

Hope you enjoyed your part 2 anon 😊

[akataiii]

PPB & HS (Dabi x Female! Reader)

“FUCKK!”

Dabi startles awake from his nap on the couch of the League’s hideout, blue flames flickering alive in his palm and eyes darting around the room to find whatever it was that woke him up. 

“I'm so done!” He hears again, less loud than before but still at a relatively high volume. Enough to induce a headache.

Dabi allows his flames to die out, dragging a hand along his face in exasperation. Still, a tiny voice in the back of his head nags at him to get up and go check it out. He knows who the voice belongs to, after all, and he is loathe to admit he's always a tiny bit worried when said voice is in distress.

After hearing another frustrated yell, Dabi hauls himself off the couch with a grunt and makes his way up the stairs to the top floor of the hideout.

Bless Shigaraki’s thought process when he decided to move the hideout from the bar to an abandoned motel. The bedrooms were a much-needed upgrade from them sharing the cramped living room-esque space of the bar to sleep.

Dabi reaches the door he's looking for, hearing another angry yell from inside and letting out a resigned sigh. Whatever he finds behind this door—he will deal with it like the responsible adult that he is. He will not engage in any childish behaviour like baseless bantering, petty insults, unnecessary taunts etc, etc.

With a final sigh, Dabi swings the door open, ready to offer his support and—“Oh. My god,” he says before he can stop himself, the hand not holding the doorknob coming up to cover his agape mouth.

Y/N swivels around in her seat, eyes already narrowed and glaring as a forewarning. Dabi tries his best—really, he does—to not laugh at the absolute abysmal horror that sits atop Y/N’s head. 

Her hair was already naturally frizzy on a good, humid free day, but come rain and the morning after, and she turns into some kind of Persian cat that got thrown into a tumble dryer. Just her luck that there happened to be a nice rainstorm the night before.

Y/N notices Dabi desperately trying to hold back his laughter, and she raises a hand, pointing an accusing finger at him. “Don't you dare,” she warns, eyes narrowing into thin slits until her pupils are barely visible.

He loses the battle. After the first snort makes it past Dabi’s lips, he's done for, dissolving into a fit of laughter that has his stomach aching and has him believing he ripped out a staple or two. 

“I didn't realize you were leaving villainy behind to pursue the life of a clown,” he manages to taunt through his first bout of giggles, doubling over when Y/N lets out the most offended scoff he's heard from her yet.

“Fuck you. It's not funny!” Y/N calls out from where she's sitting by the vanity, an array of hair equipment laid out on its surface.

Dabi attempts to tell her that, ‘No, it's not funny, it's fucking hilarious,’ through his giggles, but he's unsuccessful as his body is racked with another laugh every time he tries to get the words out.

“Dabi! Stop laughing and get over here!”

It takes him several minutes to finally stop laughing and make his way over to Y/N, towering over her and the mop on her head that's supposed to resemble hair. 

He almost starts laughing again.

“Okay. So, how exactly am I supposed to help?” He asks, watching as she stares back at him from the mirror.

“I don't know? Just—try something! I'm done struggling,” she answers, letting out an angry huff and folding her arms across her chest with a pout on her lips.

Cute, Dabi thinks, letting a smile graze his lips as he focuses his attention on her very frizzy, poofy hair. He runs an experimental hand through the (h/c) strands, pleased to find that it follows a smooth course.

“Good news,” he pipes up from behind Y/N. “There aren't any tangles, so I should be able to brush it down.”

“Hah,” she barks out a laugh. “What do you think I've been trying to do for the last hour of my life?”

Dabi rolls his eyes at her dramatics, holding a hand out in front of her. “Just hand me the brush,” he instructs, and the item is forcefully placed in his outstretched palm.

He takes his time running his hands through her hair and brushing through the (h/c) strands, admiring the way it has a certain shine to it when the dim lighting in the motel room hits it at just the right angle. Appreciating the way Y/N relaxes into his touch instead of flinching away from it like she did all those months ago when she initially joined the League.

Alas, even with all the gentle care and tedious brushing, Dabi has no luck taming this tumble dried Persian fur, and he lets out his own frustrated sigh.

“A valiant effort,” Y/N comments from her seat, taking the brush back and earning her a flick behind her ear from Dabi.

After a few moments of pondering, and a few moments of eyeing Y/N’s hair, he gets another idea. 

“Hand me the straightener,” Dabi orders, hand already held out and ready as he continues to study the frizzy hair in front of him.

While frizzy, yes, Y/N’s hair usually laid flat and straight when tamed. If he could just run the brush and the straightener through it, it should be fine. He's had plenty of practice helping Fuyumi straighten her hair, so he won't be going in blind.

“Hate to break it to you, Hot stuff, but there's no straightener here,” she says after a few seconds.

Dabi dips his head to scan the items on the vanity from over Y/N’s shoulder. There was a brush, hair ties, bobby pins, and a spray bottle with some whitish concoction in it all displayed on the surface of the vanity. No straightener, or curling iron, or even a hairdryer in sight.

“The fuck?” He scoffs. “What kind of motel doesn't even have a hairdryer?”

“This one, apparently,” Y/N answers unhelpfully, and Dabi shoots her a deadpan look that screams, ‘No shit, Sherlock.’

He straightens back out and paces back and forth in the room, mind going through ideas and other possible solutions. Surely there was something he could do, right? 

Out of habit, Dabi starts to snap his fingers. It's an action he started doing as a sort of stim, usually pairing it with a little heat from his quirk to ignite tiny blue sparks. It kind of reminds him of a sputtering lighter. Barely hanging onto life but still trying its very best.

After around the fifth spark, his skin starts to feel the heat building up, the healthy skin of his fingers able to feel the burn from his Quirk. Dabi stares down at his stitchworked palm, and it's then that he gets his brilliant idea on how to tame Y/N’s hair. 

He stops his pacing to stand behind her again, placing two warm hands on both her shoulders respectively, and catching her gaze in the vanity mirror.

“How much do you trust me?” He questions, earning him a quirked brow in return.

“Depends,” Y/N answers, skepticism shining through in her tone. “Why?”

“Just—I'm going to need you to trust me this once,” he says, removing one hand from her shoulders to ask for the brush.

Y/N’s eyes cycle between his hand, the brush, and his eyes, eventually signing herself over to fate with a pained sigh, and handing him the brush.

“Better not ruin my hair any further,” she mumbles, and Dabi snorts in return.

“Doon’t worry, Princess. Nothing I do can top the mess you made,” he teases, narrowly avoiding the hand that comes up to smack him.

“Enough chitchat. Get to it,” she orders, resuming her pouty pose from before.

“Mhm.”

And so, Dabi puts his plan into action, gripping the brush with his left hand and creating a peace sign with his right; he starts the familiar process that is straightening hair. Granted, it wasn't as familiar given he was doing it with his heated fingers instead of an actual straightener, but the motions were all still the same.

It takes a solid 30 seconds before Y/N starts to question Dabi’s actions.

“What are you doing back there?” She asks, trying to spot what he's doing in the mirror.

“Stop moving,” Dabi scolds off handedly, and Y/N stills with a frustrated huff.

He laughs at her childlike pout, moving onto the next section of hair. “If you keep squirming I might make a mistake,” he says a few seconds later, earning him a sideways glance from the mirror.

“Dabi. What are you doing?”

He has to fight back a chortle at her wariness, instead running the brush through the now-smooth section of hair.

“Don't worry your pretty little head,” he quips back, pleased when he earns another frustrated huff from Y/N.

He works in silence for just about 2 minutes before there's an audible gasp that has his heart doing a backflip straight out of his ass.

“Are you straightening my hair with your fucking Quirk!?” Y/N asks, affronted. Her eyes are practically bulging out of her head where she's caught sight of Dabi's fingers clamped down against her hair.

“Maybe,” he fires back, if only because he's never been able to give a straightforward answer in his life. Maybe also because he's a sadist and enjoys seeing the panic flashing through Y/N’s eyes.

“I swear to fucking—Dabi if you burn my hair off—” 

“Didn't I tell you to trust me?” He cuts her off, and she sputters weakly in protest. “It's been working so far, no?”

Y/N takes a moment to scan her head of hair, which now lays mostly flat against her scalp, save for the few sections Dabi still has left to straighten.

She pouts for the umpteenth time, unable to argue with the visible results. “Just don't burn what's left,” she mutters, wanting to get the last word.

Too bad for her, Dabi is a certified yapper, who always has something to say, and doesn't hesitate to say it, even when it's uncalled for. He always gets the last word.

“I won't burn your new job wig,” Dabi teases, referring back to his earlier statement about a clown profession.

“If you burn my hair, I will never steal you a chocolate bar ever again,” Y/N says, casting him a threatening glance in the mirror.

Dabi does not get the last word that time.

—

“All done,” Dabi says, running his hands through Y/N’s now-flat and straight hair one last time before allowing her to do it herself.

She makes a show of turning her head from side to side in the mirror, nodding slowly as she insepcts each part of her hair in close detail. Her contemplative hums fill the air, eyes narrowing in scrutiny.

“Hmm,” she hums a final time, straightening her back and flipping her hair over her shoulder. Her (e/c) gaze catches Dabi's in the mirror, and she has a large grin plastered on her face.

“Did I meet your demands, my lady?” Dabi questions with a teasing lilt in his voice, knowing Y/N wouldn't be mad at it this time around.

“You did,” she says, eyes softening at him with gratitude as she tilts her head to the side. “You even earned yourself a new title.”

Dabi chuckles. “Oh yeah? And what might that be?”

“You've upgraded from the term ‘favorite comrade’ to ‘personal portable hair straightener,’” Y/N says, eyes shining with mirth. “‘PPHS’ for short.”

He can't help but laugh at the ridiculousness of the whole situation, falling back on the edge of the bed behind him when his knees grow weak from the laughter and having stood for so long. 

“I was hoping to reach the term ‘boyfriend’ before all that,” Dabi shoots back before he can stop himself, words leaving his lips and spilling the feelings he's kept to himself for so long.

Y/N doesn't reply with the expected shocked words, ‘You like me?’ Instead, the grin still painting her face seems to double in size and she's sitting on Dabi's lap before he even has the chance to blink.

“Maybe I can tweak the term a bit,” she says, grin turning playful. “‘PPB & HS.’ Personal portable boyfriend and hair straightener.”

His hands find their way around her waist and he pulls her in closer, gazing up at her ever so slightly and beckoning her down in return. 

“I can live with that,” he replies, eyes subconsciously fluttering shut and face drifting closer to hers, the actions of a starved man whose appetite can only be satiated by one particular thing.

“Good,” Y/N whispers before her lips connect with his in a searing, passionate kiss that shows just how similarly starved she's been. It's warm, and pleasant, and so good. It's everything so opposite of the villains they present themselves to be.

And Dabi hasn't been able to feel this satisfied since Toya died on Sekoto Peak. He's only ever wanted to burn everything that reminded him of who he used to be. He still wants to burn his family, and the society that brought the pain upon him.

He wants to burn heroes and everything they hold dear. Hell, he wants to burn it all. The world and anything in his path to lessen this raging hatred inside of him.

But with the lips moving hungrily against his, and the hands running needily along his chest, clawing at his shirt and grazing the staples that hold together his skin, Dabi knows that there is one thing; one person in this fucked up world that he will never want to burn.