#with this much skin on display why are you wearing a shirt at all

[coreytaylr]

CANT GET OVER HOW LOW CUT THIS FUCKING SHIRT IS JFC

[jeonginsleftcheek]

Work of art

pairing: sub!hyunjin x dom!afab!reader

genre: smut

word count: 7.3k

warnings: masturbation, foot job, degradation, body hair(does that need a warning), spanking, butt play, sex toys, hyunjin is called 'slut', ruined orgasm, pegging, restraints, hair pulling, overstimulation, cock milking, slapping, dom/sub dynamics, reader is called 'boss', light bdsm, praise(lmk if i missed something)

a/n: i need subby hyunjin like i need air to breathe, no joke! plus he said he hates shaving so i had to incorporate that fact into my fic🫣

~check out my: Masterlist

The first time Hwang Hyunjin walked into your studio with his hair tousled, sunglasses almost falling off of his nose, a coffee cup in his hand and a walk full of sass and confidence, you knew he was different.

In your line of work, you've met many different models, your specialty being erotic photography, you've captured many beautiful people of all shapes and sizes but no one was as captivating to you as Hyunjin was.

He was full of sex appeal, even when he was dressed, something about him excited you so much that you wished you could cross that line between work and pleasure and indulge in your fantasy of absolutely ruining the man smiling cheekily at you.

It wouldn't be the first time you crossed that line with your models, it's hard to stay desensitized while capturing the naked vunerability of someone. It's exhilirating to command a person's movement, have them in all kind of positions, especially if you're attracted to them.

You appreciated the beauty of a human body, any human body for that matter, you loved encapsulating all the little details in your work. Freckles, grey hairs, spots, knuckles, tummy folds, stretch marks, body hair... You found beauty in everyone. And sometimes you just wanted to give special appreciation to those bodies and those people.

Today is already the third time Hyunjin came to your studio, and even though you've already seen every part of him, you are always in awe of how beautiful he is, like he was carved out by the hands of a god.

"Hi, boss."- he smirks, jokingly calling you silly nicknames is always fun to him.

"Oh, hey there."- you whip around to look at him, and he looks effortlessly handsome, like he got up and put on the first things he found though you know he actually made an effort with his outfit.

You can see the details, the rings adorning his long fingers, the necklace framing his neck and the black cashmere shirt, two of the buttons undone revealing his prominent collarbone. The shirt is slightly crooked, sliding off of his left shoulder, revealing his smooth skin.

He takes you in too, your hair in a half updo held by an oriental looking hair pin, the black eyeliner on your eyes, making them look even sharper, and your black top, loose around your frame, your perky nipples on display since you hate wearing bras, your pants also flowy and your feet bare.

You hate being restricted while you work so you always dress as loose and casual as you can, unkowingly turning Hyunjin on as he takes mental notes and pictures of you.

"Brought you coffee too."- he says as he comes closer, and your nose is filled with his intoxicating scent mixed with the comforting smell of coffee, making you dizzy.

"Thanks, Jinnie."- you take the cup from him, your fingers grazing against each other's, sending a wave of electricity through your body.

"Why don't you go get comfortable while I prepare my camera?"- you say after you take a sip of coffee.

"No foreplay? No how are you, how's your week been?"- he jokes around, placing his stuff on the side and you look at him, your eyes narrowed and a smirk on your lips.

"We're gonna be here for hours, there's time to talk. Besides, you've done this before, you don't need foreplay."- you chuckle as he takes his shoes off.

"Maybe I like foreplay with you."- oh you know he's a flirt, he does it every time he comes here, taunting you and testing your patience.

If only he knew that he was playing with fire.

"Hm, maybe I won't give it to you for that exact reason."- you smirk and he clicks his tongue, shaking his head at you.

"Wow, you're mean."- he chuckles.

"Oh, you have no idea, pretty boy."- you say and the nickname goes straight to his dick. He got called a pretty boy many times by many different people, in more lewd situations than this one but hearing you call him that in your sultry voice thrilled him like nothing else.

"Where do you want me?"- he asks, dressed only in his shirt and his boxers, his long legs looking delicious.

"On the bed. We're doing a bed shoot today."

"Straight to it. I like that, boss."- he smirks and climbs onto the bed as you chuckle, adjusting some settings on your camera.

"Alright, let's warm up. Just do what naturally comes to you first."- you say, bringing your camera up.

And Hyunjin is a natural, he flirts with the camera easily. As soon as it's on him, the look in his eyes changes and it makes your core throb, the way his eyes stare at you hungrily through the lens.

Hyunjin is propped on his elbows and he throws his head back, revealing his long neck. He spreads his legs a little, looking absolutely delectable as he stares up at you.

You take a few photos as he gives you a few different versions of that pose, his hand coming up to undo another button of his shirt.

"Is that The Cure?"- he asks as you hum along to the music playing.

"Yeah."- you nod. "That's the mood for today."- you add and Hyunjin chuckles.

"Are you depressed or deeply in love?"- he jokes as you come closer to him and take a few close-ups.

"Neither of those. Not that it's any of your business, Hwang."- you smirk, and he cringes.

"Ew, don't call me by my last name."- he recoils as he changes positions, kneeling on the bed and sitting on his feet.

"What do you want me to call you? Pretty boy?"- you taunt, your hands on his thighs, spreading them apart. Hyunjin visibly gulps, his eyes boring into yours as he looks at you sweetly.

"That's much better."- he says, his breath short as he lets you adjust his hands so that they're in his lap, one wrist over the other, like you were gonna tie him up.

Your hand comes up to touch his chin and you lift his face up, your thumb pressing into his plushy lower lip. His lips part as he looks at you like he's mesmerized.

"Stay like that, pretty boy."- you smirk as you grab a chair and bring it closer to the bed.

You get up on it as Hyunjin looks at you wordlessly, his eyes following your movements.

You reach towards him and slide the shirt off his shoulder before you get into a position so you can snap a few photos looking down at him.

"Looking good?"- Hyunjin asks after a few more positions.

"Need your shirt off."- you say as you look through the photos, your brows furrowed in concentration.

"Your wish is my command, boss."- Hyunjin smirks, slowly unbuttoning the rest of his shirt as you look up from your camera.

The shit eating grin he has on his face as he undoes and slides the shirt off as slowly as he can, lets you know he's teasing you.

You stare intenly at him as he leisurely slides it off, the sleeves pooling around his wrists as he leans on them, his legs still spread, head lolled to the side. You can see the outline of his semi hard cock, and his happy trail disappearing under the top of his boxers. It's nothing new, you've seen him naked and fully hard already, taking pictures of him in the most vunerable state.

"Don't move."- you say and bring your camera up as Hyunjin gives you a sultry look and you snap a few more pictures.

"I want a few shots of your back and shoulders."- you say and Hyunjin nods, a smirk on his lips.

He gets rid of his shirt completely and turns his back to you. Your hand comes up to touch his hair as you play with it, making it look even more tousled than it was before.

You can hear Hyunjin's breath getting caught in his throat whenever your fingertips brush against the back of his neck, goosebumps rising on his skin and you're so close to him, he smells so good and you just want to lean in and leave kisses on his neck.

Your hands slide down his shoulders and arms and he leans into your touch, shivering a little as you run your fingertips on his upper back.

"Keep doing that and I'll lose my concentration very quickly."- Hyunjin whimpers quietly and you laugh at him, squeezing his arm a little.

"You're not that easy, are you?"- you smirk, removing your hands off of him and grabbing your camera.

"You wanna find out?"- he flirts again, looking back at you with a smirk.

"Stop flirting, we're working."- you tease as you get ready to take more pictures.

"Alright, I'm serious now. So serious."- Hyunjin smiles and you chuckle, shaking your head at him before he stills so you can do your job.

After some time, he gets turned towards you again and your eyes fall down between his legs immediately.

Hyunjin smirks as you eye his erection that's bulging and straining in his boxers.

"I didn't shave."- he whispers. "But it's trimmed. Is that okay?"

You look up, your eyes slightly widdened, the thought of his pretty cock framed like that made you so unbearably aroused, your pussy throbbing.

"More than okay, Jinnie."- you say, leaning closer to him without even realizing it, and your knee brushes against his bulge.

"Ah..."- he moans a little, his head falling back, eyelids droopy as he looks at you.

"Sorry, didn't mean to do that."- you swallow.

"I don't mind."- he says quietly, legs spreading more as he moves his hips up, brushing against your knee.

"Hyunjin."- you say in a warning tone but his hands grip at the sheets as he starts slowly rutting against you.

You want to stop him but he looks so freaking hot with his lips parted, knuckles white and pupils blown as he ruts against you like a desperate dog.

"You can't cum Hyunjin, I need more pictures before that."- you warn him, your hands on his hips, pressing down to stop his movement.

"S-sorry. I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me."- he looks pathetic and embarassed as he tears his eyes away from you.

You chuckle, arousal dripping on your lace panties as you grab your camera.

You stand up on the bed, balancing for a moment before you speak up.

"You look really pretty when you're pathetic like that."- you smirk, snapping a few pictures of his already fucked out face.

"Yeah? You wanna make me more pathetic then?"- he taunts.

"Don't challenge me, pretty boy."- you say.

"Why not?"- he bites on his lip, you can see he's so desperate for you to do anything, touch him in any kind of way and though you always flirted with him, you never went this far before.

Your mind is getting a little cloudy at the sight of Hyunjin under you like that, like he's giving himself to you on a silver platter.

"I don't know if you can handle it."- you whisper.

"I can."- he's sure of himself and you know you're going to have so much fun with him.

You've noticed he always stares at your feet and you smirk, your eyes getting hazy as you find your balance on the bed again and place your foot on his thigh.

Hyunjin jerks under your touch immediately, leaning into you. You slide your foot towards his cock before you press into his erection.

"Ah!"- Hyunjin whimpers, his back arching on the bed as you start slowly moving your foot on his length, his cock twitching every time you touch his head.

"Y/n... fuck."- he whines and you use that moment to take more pictures of him.

His eyes snap open as he looks up at you, his vision blurry from the pleasure you're giving him, your toes circling his head that's leaking pre cum, forming a wet patch on his boxers.

"You really are pathetic, Hyunjin."- you chuckle lowly. "This is what you get off to?"

"Mm, yes, yes!"- he whines, his hips lifting up into your touch as you speed up and press harder into him.

His cock twitches violently against you, and he looks more beautiful than before, his face and neck flushed, his nipples perky, face fucked out and hair messy, his legs spread for you.

You use that moment to take more pictures of him, ones you will keep only in your private collection.

"Say it, pretty boy. Say what you are."- you demand.

"Pathetic! I'm pathetic!"- he whines loudly, face scrunching up in pleasure and you know he's close. His thighs shake and you smirk evilly.

"Yes, you are. A pathetic slut."- you say and he whimpers your name loudly before you remove your foot, leaving him hanging on the edge, ruining his orgasm.

"W-why'd you stop?!"- he gasps, fisting the sheets in frustration. You snap a picture as you laugh.

"I told you not to challenge me. And we're not done with work."- you say, kneeling down between his legs. "I need your cock to be wet and hard for the next pictures."- you caress his thigh and he moans, tears of frustration gathering in his eyes.

"Will you let me cum after that?"- he asks and he looks so fuckable in that moment that you just want to put away your camera and fuck his brains out but somehow you manage to calm down.

"Maybe."- you say and he sighs, wiping at his eyes.

"You really are mean."- he pouts.

"Just take those off and shut up."- you pinch his nipple quickly and he gasps, his eyes widdening and cheeks becoming even more flushed.

He obeys your command and slides his boxers down, throwing them somewhere on the side.

His cock slaps against his stomach, it's painfully hard and throbbing, the tip is red and angry, pre-cum oozing out of it, the vein running over his length is prominent. But what grabs your attention most is the neatly trimmed bush framing his cock so perfectly and you can't help the gush of arousal pooling on your panties.

Hyunjin shrinks a little under your eyes as you keep staring at his cock.

"I-is it okay like that?"- he asks, his voice wavering.

"It's so fucking hot."- you lick your lips.

"Really?"- Hyunjin shivers when you look into his eyes darkly.

"Really."- you whisper, hand reaching towards him. He thinks you'll wrap it around his cock, instead you place it on his navel, fingers gently running down his happy trail to his bush, playing with the hairs and lightly pulling on them. Hyunjin jolts, his cock twitching as electricity runs through his body.

"Oh... oh that feels good."- he whines as you play with his hair.

"Touch yourself for me, will you?"- you say, smirking as you move your hand away again and he whines in frustration again.

"Anything for you."- he says and the look in his eyes confirms his words, he would really do anything for you.

His long thin fingers wrap around his swollen cock as he starts stroking it.

"Slower."- you order and he obeys, hand moving painfully slowly as little moans spill from his lips. His eyes are trained on you as you keep taking pictures of him.

"Spread your legs more. Let me see everything, pretty."- you smirk and Hyunjin spreads his legs, bringing them up as he leans down on his elbow.

"This good?"- he asks, his voice breaking and lower than usually as he struggles not to jerk off faster.

"So good."- you chuckle and keep snapping pictures of him. Hyunjin's going crazy, he wants some kind of release but you have different plans for him.

"Stop now."- you say and he whimpers but moves his hand to the side, gripping at the sheets again as you snap photos of his pretty cock.

"Are those for work or for you?"- he smirks, almost breathless.

"Wouldn't you like to know?"- you smirk back at him and he sits up, his face close to yours.

"I can give you even better pictures for your private collection."- he whispers lowly.

"Oh yeah? What do you get out of it?"- you ask with a smirk.

"You."- he says.

"You want me?"- you chuckle, placing your hand on his chin and holding his face firmly in place.

"I want you so bad."- he whines.

"If you want me, Hyunjin... You're gonna have to be a good boy and take what I give you without complaints."- you warn, your voice sultry and low, your camera forgotten on the side.

"Okay, I can do that. I can be good for you."- he says quickly and you chuckle at his eagerness.

"We'll see about that."- you say and before he can answer you grab him and easily turn him on his stomach as he shrieks and scrambles to grab at the sheets.

Your hand wraps around the back of his neck as you push his face into the bed, your pelvis colliding with his ass. You lean over him, your other hand slowly running down his spine as Hyunjin shivers, his eyes wide and breaths ragged.

"You think you can take me, Jinnie?"- you chuckle lowly, blowing at his ear as your hand comes down to grip his asscheek and he mewls under you, scratching at the bed.

"Y-yes."- he whispers.

"Are you sure? This sweet hole looks so very tight."- your fingertips press into his fluttering entrance, just to tease him a little.

He gasps, leaning into your touch as his eyes roll back.

"I- yes, I can take it! Please!"- he whines desperately, dragging the tip of his cock against the satin sheets.

His eyes close in anticipation but you move away completely, leaving him bare and he hears the clicks of your camera before he can even open his eyes and look at you.

He starts getting up, but you're quick to place your hand on his back and push him down.

"Did I say you could move?"- you snap at him and Hyunjin shivers.

"N-no."- he gulps loudly and you tower over him.

"Then why did you move?"- you ask, pinching his butt and he jolts and whimpers.

"I won't do it again, I swear!"- he cries out as you smack his ass and watch as it jiggles deliciously.

"Good slut."- you smirk and leave him on the bed as you put your camera aside and go to your table. There's a drawer in the table, holding all kinds of fun things and Hyunjin breathes deep as he kneels on all fours.

It wouldn't be the first time he got fucked in the ass but no one was ever this demanding and degrading towards him and he was so excited that he felt like could cum untouched any moment now.

You found a bottle of lube and an unused butt plug, your feet padding on the floor and you get back to Hyunjin as he eagerly awaits for you.

"Eyes up front."- you say as you kneel behind him, placing the stuff on the side. You spread his legs more with yours and he whimpers a little, his hands gripping at the sheets above his head.

You practically drool at the sight of him, face down and ass up, his pretty hole on display just for you, the muscles on his arms flexing as he grips and releases the sheets.

You decide to take your sweet time with him, knowing how hard he is and how close to his release he is, the sadist in you loving the power you have over such a beautiful man.

You run your hands down his back to his dainty waist, grabbing it and caressing his soft skin. Your hands slide down to his ass and the back of his thighs as you explore his body, squeezing, slapping, fondling, worshipping.

Hyunjin keeps shivering and breathing hard as he leans into your hands, hungry for more, like he's never been touched before.

"P-please..."- he begs and you chuckle, spanking him lightly.

"You're gonna have to do better than that, pretty boy."- you click your tongue, grabbing his ass harshly and he moans, fingertips digging into the matress.

"Please, y/n, please touch me!"- he whines.

"You want me to touch you?"- you smack his ass again.

"Ah! Yes, please touch me!"

"Where? Where do you want me to touch you?"- you smirk, your hands massaging his asscheeks, fingertips close to where he needs you the most.

"My- I want your fingers inside me, please!"- he begs and you chuckle.

"Was that so hard to say?"- you tease him.

"N-no, it wasn't."- he stutters as you grab the lube and pour it all over your fingers, warming it up a little, before you place two of them on his fluttering hole.

Hyunjin's thighs shake in anticipation as you press on it and start moving your fingers in a circling motion.

"Ah, mm..."- Hyunjin melts instantly, leaning into your touch. What was it about you that made him surrender so easily?

You keep massaging his hole, circling it slowly as it pulsates and opens up under your touch, and you lean down pressing your lips into his upper back.

"Ahh!"- Hyunjin whimpers, enjoying the attention you're giving him.

His cock hurts so bad by now, he hopes you'll let him cum soon before he loses control and cums untouched.

Your lips keep worshipping his back as you slowly push your finger into him. He tenses for a moment and you bring your other hand up to caress his lower back while you keep pushing into him.

"Y/n"- he whimpers your name as you wiggle your finger inside him.

"So tight. Just for me."- you smirk against his skin, leaving another kiss on his spine.

"Yes, just for you."- he whispers, his breath getting caught in his throat when you start sliding your finger inside him slowly.

"But I think you can take more."- you say, slowly pulling out to add more lube before you push two of your fingers inside him.

"Ah, fuck!"- Hyunjin's body jerks forwards as he whimpers loudly.

"Look at that. Such a slutty hole, taking my fingers so well."- you say, and Hyunjin hears the camera click.

"A-ah w-what-" - he stutters as you push your fingers as deep as you can.

"Private collection."- you chuckle as you curl your fingers and start fucking directly into his prostate, making him moan loudly and claw at the sheets, his cock dragging against the bed and leaking onto it, and he feels like exploding right away.

"Please don't stop, please don't stop, please..."- he keeps repeating, his body shaking as he gasps and moans.

You sneak your hand around him, sliding it against his navel, until your fingertips reach his bush and you start playing with it again, pulling on the hair. Hyunjin falls apart, moaning loudly, not even caring how pathetic he looks and sounds as he pushes his ass back into you and ruts his cock against the bed.

"You wanna cum, slut?"- you ask, running your fingers through his pubic hair and pressing them into his skin as you keep abusing his prostate.

His cock throbs and he can't hold it in anymore, his body shakes violently, sweat sliding down his forehead.

"P-please I wanna cum."- he cries and you laugh, you got him exactly where you want him.

"Pretty boy wants to cum."- you mock him.

"Yes, please y/n! Please!"- he begs again.

"Will you let me do whatever I want with you?"- you smirk as you keep fucking into him fast, your other hand grabbing his balls and massaging them.

"Oh my fu- yes, yes you can do whatever you want with me!"- he whines and you smirk.

"You can cum."- you say and Hyunjin's whole body convulses as he explodes hard onto the bed, spurts of cum keep painting the sheets as he moans your name over and over again.

"Fuck, what a dirty slut you are."- you smack his ass hard as you pull out your fingers.

His hole flutters and he whimpers at the empty feeling.

"A pathetic dirty slut. Aren't you?"- you ask sternly, your hand tangled in his hair as you pull his head back.

"Yes, I'm a pathetic dirty slut!"- he cries.

You snicker, leaning away from him and he looks back at you, his eyes teary, sweat on his forehead.

"Wh-what are you doing?"- he asks, straining his neck and trying to look at your hands.

"See this pretty butt plug? I think it'd look even prettier inside you."- you say. "Don't you agree?"- you ask, teasing his entrance with it.

"Mm, yes. Put it in, boss."- he whines and you chuckle as you push the butt plug inside him slowly, watching his sweet hole swallowing it greedily.

When it's pushed all the way in, you caress his ass as you grab your camera.

"Be sweet and stay like that."- you say and Hyunjin just whimpers, the butt plug designed specifically to stimulate his prostate and his cock is getting hard again, twitching against the bed.

You snap a few pictures before you stand up and grab your shoes.

"Where are you going?"- Hyunjin shivers, still not moving from the position you ordered him to stay in.

"We are going to my house, pretty. Get dressed."- you say and Hyunjin's eyes widden as he scrambles to get up, his legs like jelly from the orgasm before and the toy inside him, stimulating him constantly.

You only ever brought one of your models home before, Nelle, and you had so much fun with her but Hyunjin was something different, he was captivating to you like no one else and a small part of you hoped this wasn't the last time you'd be going home with him.

Hyunjin barely managed to get dressed, having to somehow tuck his semi hard cock back into his boxers, whimpering while doing so and you enjoyed watching him struggle, he looked good enough to eat in that moment.

You practically dragged him to your car after locking up the studio and he sat in the passenger seat with a loud whimper, the butt plug pressing into his prostate harder.

The whole drive to your apartment, Hyunjin was tortured, he tried to get off somehow, gyrating his hips and palming himself but you slapped his thigh every time he did that, warning him to be good.

"Stop that or I won't let you cum all night."- you pinch his plushy thigh and he whimpers.

"S-sorry."- he apologizes, sweat trickling down his forehead as he breathes hard.

He almost fell apart by the time you arrived at your building and you had to help him walk to the entrance.

When you enter your apartment, Hyunjin looks around, trying to take in the modern art that was displayed everywhere in your space, the smell of you mixed with remnants of some kind of spicy scented candle was overflowing his senses and his body was buzzing.

"Want something to drink?"- you tease and he whines.

"Y/n please..."

"Please what? You have to use your words, pretty. Tell me exactly what you want or I won't do anything."- you smirk, pushing him against the wall, your thigh lodged between his legs, your hand holding his face firmly.

His eyes roll back as he whimpers and tries to rut against you.

"You can form a sentence, can't you?"- you say in a mocking tone, your hand sliding down to wrap around his neck.

"Y-yes... I-I want you to fuck me, please."- he whimpers and you laugh, stepping back from him.

"Oh you're gonna have to work hard for that."- you say, grabbing his wrist gently and leading him to your room.

"I'll do anything! I swear!"- he scrambles behind you.

"Strip."- you order as you push him into your room, closing the door with your foot.

Hyunjin obeys quickly, peeling off his clothes and throwing it aside.

"You're making a mess, Hyunjin."- you warn and he gasps, grabbing his clothes from the floor and placing it on the chair next to your table.

"Sorry."- he mutters, his face is flushed as he looks down, avoiding your eyes and awaiting your next order.

"Kneel."- you say and his eyes widden a little before he falls on his knees, hitting your carpet with a muffled thud.

"Hands on your back, head down."- you order and he does everything you say.

You can see his breathing is becoming ragged, his pretty cock twitching and leaking down onto your expensive carpet.

"You're gonna wait like that and I don't want to hear a peep from you, understood?"

"Yes, boss."- Hyunjin whimpers quietly, eyes glued down to his body.

You leave the room and a few moments later, Hyunjin hears the shower running.

He curses under his breath, you're really enjoying torturing him. But, he knows he wouldn't be here if he wasn't enjoying it.

His mind keeps making up scenarios of what you would do to him, he wondered if you're even gonna let him taste you or fuck you.

His cock was getting painfully hard at the image of you riding his face, making him suffocate on your sweet pussy as your plush thighs frame his face perfectly.

He wanted to touch himself so bad but he knew you'd punish him for that, even though he would take your punishments happily, he'd rather you reward him for his good behaviour so he stays still.

You come back some ten minutes later, refreshed and naked, the only thing you have on is a strap on and Hyunjin dares to look up at you, his eyes bulging out of his skull as he whimpers.

"Pretty boy, is this what you want?"- you ask, strolling closer to him.

"Y-yes, please."- he whimpers again.

"Cock slut."- you snicker at him, hand in his hair as you grip him and pull on his head harshly.

"Ah!"- he moans loudly, his fingertips digging into his palms, his thighs and biceps flexing and straining as his hard cock twitches.

"Suck."- you simply order, pressing the tip of your cock on his plump lips. Hyunjin's eyes get hazy instantly as he wraps his pretty cherry lips around your tip.

He looks so sweet as he keeps his eyes on yours, sucking eagerly on the head of the dildo, getting it wet with his spit as it drips down his chin.

"You can take more."- you say lowly, pressing his head towards you and pushing more of it in. He moans around you, swallowing around your cock as his eyes roll back.

You fuck his face slowly and Hyunjin keeps moaning, taking more in, the gagging noises he makes as he chokes on the dildo get you extremely wet and horny.

"You look so pretty with your mouth full of cock. You were made just for this."- you smirk, reaching towards the table you were near to and grabbing your camera that was left there.

Hyunjin whimpers around you, choking on your length again.

"I'm gonna take a few pictures of your pathetic face, slut. Stay just like that."- you say as he swallows as much of the dildo as he can.

Hyunjin tries to breathe through his nose so he doesn't gag while you take pictures and his cock keeps leaking and throbbing painfully, begging for any kind of release.

You put your camera aside and start fucking his face, Hyunjin whines around you, his hands coming up to grip at your thighs so he doesn't fall from the sheer strength you're moving your hips with.

"Why are you touching me?"- you slap his cheek with two of your fingers lightly before you pull out of his mouth.

Hyunjin coughs, eyes fluttering as he grabs at his throat and looks up at you.

"Fuck, I'm sorry!"- he whines and you smirk, circling around him. He tries to turn around but you place your foot on his upper back and force him down into the carpet, his cheek leaned on it and his ass lifted up.

"You wanna be fucked, slut?"- you ask, holding his head down with your foot.

"P-please..."- he whimpers.

"Let me see you fuck yourself with the butt plug. I wanna see how much you want it."- you say with an insidious smile.

Hyunjin's hand is shaky as he reaches behind him and grips the base of the toy. He mewls as he starts moving it in and out of his hole slowly.

"Do you even want it? Try harder."- you press your foot between his shoulder blades, holding him down as his eyes wander and look at you.

He whines and starts fucking himself faster, his free hand gripping at the carpet as he tries his best.

"Faster, slut!"- you lean down and spank him hard making him jolt and whimper loudly.

"F-fuck!"- he swears, moving his arm faster, fucking the butt plug right into his prostate. His eyes are shut tightly, his cock is constantly twitching and he's close to his release.

"Faster!"- you smack him again.

"M-my arm hurts."- he whimpers and you chuckle.

"You're acting like a little princess, Hyunjin. You want me to lay you down and do all the work?"- you ask, moving your foot away and leaning closer to him, your hand covering his and helping him fuck himself.

"N-no! I want what you want!"- he cries.

"No, you don't. You don't get to want anything. I told you not to taunt me, didn't I?"- you smirk, pushing the butt plug deep inside his hole.

"I'm sorry, boss. I'm so sorry!"- tears gather in his eyes and you smirk, slapping his hand away and pulling the butt plug out.

"You're gonna do all the work."- you chuckle lowly, sitting on the bed as Hyunjin kneels and looks at you.

"I am?"- he asks, confused as to what you're asking him to do.

"Yes. What are you waiting for? Come and sit on my dick, slut."- you order and Hyunjin gasps, scrambling to his feet and almost running to you.

You have your camera with you and a bottle of lube which you hand to Hyunjin.

"Make me wet."- you say and he whimpers as he spreads the lube on his hands before he grabs the dildo and starts jerking it off.

His eyes fall to your breasts and he wishes he could suck on your sweet nipples and lay his face on them but at this point, he's sure you wouldn't allow that.

Hyunjin straddles you, hovering over your cock and you watch him with a smirk.

He grabs his asscheeks, spreading them apart and slowly sliding his hole on the wet strap-on.

The tip catches his pulsating hole and he mewls loudly as he slowly brings his hips down on yours, taking the whole thing in one slide, filled up to the hilt.

The way he looks in that moment is worth thousands of pictures and you grab your camera. Hyunjin stays still as you take pictures of him, his hole clenching around you, his cock twitching constantly, the pre-cum dripping down and pooling on your stomach.

"Come on, fuck yourself pretty boy."- you smirk and Hyunjin starts slowly sliding up and down on your cock, his dick jumping up and down with every move he makes, his thighs flexing from all the hard work he's doing.

"S-shit, ahh!"- he moans, beads of sweat already covering his forehead and sliding down the side of his face.

Your eyes roam all over his frame and you can't believe you have a man this beautiful falling apart on top of you.

Your eyes keep falling down to his cute bush, wanting to touch him again and pump his pretty cock, milk him dry until he cries for you to stop.

But you're patient and you let him set the pace for a little while as he gradually keeps speeding up, his hole hungry to be filled.

His eyes are closed and you smirk as you grab his hips and start fucking up into him without warning.

"Ah! Fuck!"- he almost screams, his eyes snapping open and finding yours.

You're fucking up into him fast and hard, using all your strength to abuse his prostate and he keeps moaning loudly, fucking himself on you like a feral animal.

"Look at you, taking my cock so well."- you praise him. "You were made for this."

"Yes, I was made to take your cock!"- Hyunjin moans, his mind completely gone as he chases his high.

"You're not allowed to cum yet."- you say and he whines.

"P-please, please, I need to cum! Please, I wanna cum for you, show you how good you make me feel."- he begs, his eyes glassy, the look in them like a kicked puppy and you adore him so much in that moment.

"Fine, but there will be consequences."- you smirk but Hyunjin just thanks you over and over again as he lets go, his cum shooting out and covering your stomach in it, a few drops reaching your breasts.

Before he can even come down from it, you manage to flip him over with your cock still inside him.

He gasps, grabbing at your sheets as you hover over him, pulling the dildo out of him only to push it back in harshly, bottoming out inside him.

"Fuck!"- he curses, tears and sweat mixing on his face and you grab his sensitive cock and spit on it.

"Y/n..."- he cries as you start jerking his soft cock, moving the dildo slowly inside him.

"It's not y/n to you!"- you warn him with a slap on his cheek and Hyunjin gasps, his cock twitching in your hand from the pain you gave him.

"Boss! I'm sorry!"- he apologizes for the nth time tonight and you push in deeply, placing your hand on his stomach and pressing down.

Hyunjin moans, his legs jerking up and you chuckle.

"See how deep inside you I am? You love being filled up like this cause you're just a little cock slut. My cock slut."- you run your hand down and pull on his little bush.

"I'm your cock slut!"- Hyunjin whines, arching into your touch as you keep stimulating him both on the outside and the inside.

His cock hurts and he thinks he can't take anymore but you know he can. You keep jerking him off, running your fingertip on his slit, your other hand playing with the hair framing his dick, your cock deep inside him, the tip pressing into his sweet spot.

Hyunjin has completely surrendered to you, his head lolling to the side as he lets you torture him.

When he's fully hard again, you slide your cock out of him and he looks up at you, his eyes almost crossed from the pleasure running through his body.

"Get on all fours."- you order and he slowly turns around, his face smushed in your pillow and ass up in the air. You stand up and Hyunjin's eyes follow you as you open up a drawer. His heart beats fast as he wonders what you'll pull out of it this time.

"Close your eyes and put your hands above your head."- he obeys, his forehead pressing into your pillow as he breathes hard.

You place one handcuff on his wrist, putting the chain around the headboard of your bed before you snap the other handcuff closed around his wrist. Hyunjin whimpers, looking up at his restrained hands.

"Spread your legs more."- you say and he does as he's told. He looks down between his legs and sees you grabbing more restraints. His heart skips a beat when you secure the bar between his legs, keeping them spread apart for you.

"Oh god..."- Hyunjin whimpers loudly, trying to close his legs just to test it but he can't.

"This is to make sure you don't try to close your legs on me."- you smirk, your hands roaming on his back, ass and the back of his thighs.

"I would never!"- he says and you chuckle.

"Good boy."- you praise him, hands on his asscheeks as you spread them apart.

You slowly push inside his little hole, stretching him to adjust you again and Hyunjin grips at the handcuffs, moans spilling from his pretty lips as you bottom out.

"Since you wanted to cum so badly earlier, you will cum now. As many times as I want you to."- you snicker and grip his hips, fucking into him harshly.

"A-ah!"- Hyunjin's voice breaks as his eyes widden.

Your hips keep slapping into his as you fuck his ass, his cock brushing against your sheets contantly as he drools on your pillow, little moans and groans spilling out of his lips, making your pussy throb with arousal.

Two orgasms later, Hyunjin is constantly trying to close his legs and move away but you keep pushing him back on your cock, you know he's okay unless he uses his safeword.

Your hand tangles in his hair and you grip it, pulling his head back, your other hand wrapping around him to grab his tortured cock.

"I- I can't..."- he's crying and drooling, his body sweaty and his muscles aching.

"You can give me one more, I know you can."- you coo at him and he whines, he will try for you. "Yours is a greedy little hole."- you smirk.

You fuck into his prostate, jerking him off at the same pace and Hyunjin's whole body shudders violently as he moans so loudly that you know the neighbours can hear him.

"B-boss ahh, it hurts!"- he moans.

"You love that, you little slut. Come on, give me one more!"- you order, smacking his ass hard.

Hyunjin chokes on his spit as he spasms, coming all over your hand and the sheets and you milk him dry as he shakes.

"No more... please no more..."- he cries and you finally release him and slide out of his abused hole.

"Wow."- you grab the camera and snap a few pictures of his ruined body as he shivers.

"P-please, untie me."- he says and your eyes soften as you put the camera on the night stand.

You remove the restraints slowly, removing your strap too before you put your arms around Hyunjin and pull him into your body. Both of you are sweaty and gross and the bed is a mess but neither of you care as you cling onto each other.

"You okay?"- you ask, running your hands through his damp hair.

"Mhm. So good."- he whispers, the side of his face smushed into your breast.

"I'm gonna run us a bath and you wait here, okay?"- you say and Hyunjin looks up at you with a dopey smile.

"You forgot something, boss."- he says.

"What is it?"- you ask and he sits up as best as he can, his face close to yours.

"You never kissed me."- he pouts and you chuckle as he leans in.

"Can I?"- he whispers on your lips.

"I think we're way pass that."- you say and press your lips into his.

The kiss is heated and messy like both of you were thirsty and couldn't get enough of each other, teeth nipping at your lips, your tongues dancing together, spit dribbling down your chins.

"I- I didn't get to make you cum."- he pouts at you sweetly again.

"That is something you need to deserve, darling."

"I will work extra hard for that, I promise."- Hyunjin's hand is on your cheek and your heart stirs awake at his touch.

"I believe you."- you whisper, leaning in to kiss him again.

"By the way, I was gonna ask you something before all this happened."- he says as you get up to prepare the bath.

"Yes?"

"What are you doing tomorrow at 7pm?"- he smirks.

"Depends on what you're offering."- you smirk back.

"I was gonna ask you out on a d-date."- he stutters shyly and you almost melt into a puddle. "There's this gallery I wanted to visit and we could grab some dinner too?"

His eyes are big and pleading as he stares up at you and the small part of you that hoped to take Hyunjin home more than once, grows bigger.

"Alright, it's a date, pretty boy."

✨Taglist: @moonchild9350 @janepg @velvetmoonlght @hwanghyunjinismybae @jehhskz

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

hi!! can i request carmy berzatto #16, t? 🤭

Finders, Keepers.

16. "Is that my shirt?" + t. Roommates

Author's Note - this is written as part of my 500 Followers Celebration!! find that post here if you're interested. my first time writing for beautiful angel boy carmy <3

Pairing - Carmen Berzatto x Female Reader

Age Rating - 18+

Warnings - smut!! + cursing

Word Count - 1185

Masterlist. 500 Follower Celebration Masterlist.

The Roommate Collection.

Having Carmen Berzatto as a roommate is a blessing and a curse.

It's a blessing for many reasons. He's kind, thoughtful, considerate. He cooks, he cleans, he loads the dishwasher correctly. He's fairly quiet, he respects your boundaries, he always lets you choose the movie to watch. He's perfect in every way, really.

He's perfect in every way. That's the curse.

He's the most attractive man you've ever laid your eyes on. And he cooks. And he cleans. And he's the best roommate you could ever ask for. You're convinced anyone would struggle not to fall in love with him. Anyone.

You've fallen victim to the Berzatto charm. As much as you'd love to tell him, you don't want to ruin this good thing the two of you have. It's not worth it. So, you keep your mouth shut, and your eyes glued to his perfect face whenever he's not looking. It's sometimes painful, but it works.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You're woken up bright and early by someone knocking on your bedroom door.

"I'm making breakfast. Lesson, or nah?"

Before you met Carmy, you couldn't really cook. Sure, you knew the basics, but he's opened you up to all sorts of new techniques and flavours. Whenever he starts to prepare a meal, he'll ask you if you want a lesson. Sometimes, you'll say no, content to watch him do his thing in the kitchen. More often than not, you'll say yes, allowing him to talk you through what he's doing and why. He explains everything step by step, always ensuring he's thorough but never patronising. These little cooking lessons allowed the both of you to get to know each other, bonding you together.

"Yeah, sure!" you call through the door, still half asleep. "Give me a minute."

You hear him turn the coffee maker on, the sounds of mugs clinking together filling the kitchen.

You stumble out of bed, grabbing around for something to wear. You find a dark grey t shirt on the chair and throw it over your head haphazardly. Pulling some socks on to tackle the morning chill, you run your fingers through your hair before making your way through the apartment.

Carmy's wearing his navy plaid pyjama pants and a white t shirt that hugs his biceps just right. His hair is sticking up in all directions, and it takes everything in you not to reach out and fix it into place.

"Morning, sweetheart," he says without turning around. "What do you want for breakfast, pancakes or waffles?"

"Hmmm," you debate. "Waffles, I think."

"Waffles it is."

Carmen turns around from where he's been brewing the coffee, and almost falls over. You're stood leaning against the counter, hair mussed and eyes still sleepy. Your legs are on full display, socks ending just above your ankle, skin glowing in the morning light. You smell like warmth and a golden sunrise. Carmy holds onto the mug in his hand like his life depends on it.

"Coffee," he stutters, handing it to you. You cross the kitchen and take it from him, kissing him on the cheek as a thank you. You both pretend not to notice the way heat blooms up his chest at the action.

The longer he looks at you, the more he can't put his finger on what it is that's driving him insane. There's something different about you this morning, and it's got him riled up. His eyes rake over your body once, twice, three times before he figures it out.

"Is that my shirt?"

You look down to find that yes, it is. You must have picked it up from the pile of clean laundry he did yesterday accidentally.

"Oh, shit. Sorry, Carmy."

"No, it's okay. You look... you... it's - fuck."

You've never seen his brain short circuit like this, and you're not entirely sure what's happening.

"Are you... alright, Carmy?"

"God," he groans. "Stop saying my name like that."

"... like what?"

"Like... fuck. You say it so fuckin' pretty."

He has a look in his eyes you've never seen before. It's almost animalistic. He looks feral.

He strides over to you, cradling your face in his calloused hands. He presses his forehead to yours, and exhales shakily.

"Will you let me taste you, honey?" he murmurs.

Your breath catches in your throat, and your knees go weak. It's a good job he's holding you up.

"Please," he practically begs. "I'll make you feel real good."

You answer him by smashing your lips to his, hands fisting in the front of his shirt. He kisses you back with vigour, tongues tangling and mouths melding. You moan and he swallows it, committing the sound to memory.

Carmy walks you backwards and hoists you up onto the edge of the kitchen table, before dropping to his knees. He looks debauched, knelt in front of you with wide eyes and swollen lips. You think he's never looked prettier.

He starts by kissing up from your ankles to your thighs, building the tension expertly. You're practically vibrating with anticipation, desperate to feel him where you need him most. Your underwear is soaked through, and you're convinced you're going to go insane if he doesn't get his mouth on you soon.

As if he's reading your mind, he nudges his nose against your covered core, inhaling. He groans at your scent, and it's the filthiest thing you've ever seen. He pulls your underwear down in one quick swoop, looking up at you carefully. You grab the hem of your shirt, ready to pull it over your head, but Carmy stops you.

"Leave it on," he mutters. "Please."

You nod your head, and he takes that as confirmation. He dives into you, lapping you up like a man parched. He's nipping, biting, suckling at you as if he's done it a thousand times before. You prop yourself on your elbows, giving you the perfect view of this perfect man in this perfect situation. He's so eager to please you it makes your heart and your core ache.

"Fuck," he groans. "Sweetest thing I've ever tasted."

He slips two fingers into you with ease, and your back arches. You're writhing, moaning on every out breath, struggling to inhale. Is there anything this man can't do?

You can feel your orgasm building, warm and persistent in your stomach. Carmy can too.

"Come on, honey," he begs. "Give it to me. I want it. Let me have it."

You're not sure if it's his dulcet tone or the way his fingers curl on every upstroke, but you fall apart, hips keening and back canting. You whine his name and he groans, low and deep.

"There we go," he's muttering. "Good girl. That's it. Atta girl."

When he's satisfied you're satisfied, he stands up and kisses you again, allowing you to taste yourself on his bitten lips.

"No Michelin star dish is ever going to compare to that," he teases against your mouth. You both laugh, giddy off of each other.

"Shut up," you giggle. "Now, are we making waffles, or what?"

[ncttytrack]

can you do reader giving daddy jake a head while jake is in front of his computer desk having a meeting with his colleagues 😵‍💫

Thank you so much for the request anon!! I don’t know if you meant daddy jake as in husband, or stepdad Jake…step dad Jake sounds hotter so I wrote about that hehe.

Daddy’s girl - s.j

All over the screen it was stepdad-stepdaughter related porn, full on display for you to see. And by the looks of it, Jake had already watched the majority of the videos.

Genre: Stepdad!Jake x reader

Words: 3k+

Warnings: Age gap, degradation, Jake is a creep lmao, dom!Jake, sub!reader

⋆ ��｡⋆୨ ʚɞ ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ʚɞ ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

You’ve always thought that Jake and your moms relationship was great. You never really knew your dad and growing up without a father figure was therefore difficult for you. That was until she met Jake. Jake married your mom when you were sixteen years old, four years ago to be exact, and it was nice to have Jake as the father you never really had. He really took care of you, making sure to give you the childhood you never really got. 

You had always thought Jake was attractive, like, how could you not. With his perfect smile, kind eyes, and soft lips, Jake was everything you liked in a guy, except for the fact that he was your “new” dad. It was fine until you became legal of age, it was like something happened the day you turned eighteen. 

Every occurrence with Jake at home became weird, from the way he looked at you, to the way he would talk to you, to the way he would sneakily touch you every chance he got. Everytime you felt that someone was looking at you, you would turn around and meet Jakes gaze, shamelessly looking up and down you frame - taking in your appearance in not-so-innocent ways. The way his tongue would grace over his bottom lip, and his eyes would darken when he stared at you a little too long would send shivers down your spine, making you always look away. 

Fuck, and you kinda liked it too. The step-dad trope growing on you because of Jake, sometimes even purposely buying Penelope Douglass books about fucking fathers to calm down the urge you felt every time you saw him. But you couldn’t go behind your moms back, that would be horrible and so morally wrong. Finally she was happy - how could you destroy that?

Today was Thursday, and your mom was at work. Jake usually works from home, having zoom-meetings by his computer desk in his office. Because you want to be a nice step-daughter, you decided that you wanted to fix something for him, hence why you are holding a plate with chopped fruit heading towards his office. You feel your face heaten up as you get closer to his office. Even after four years you never got the courage to visit him when working at home, too embarrassed to be alone with him - especially in his work clothes. 

Jake in his work clothes was something…else, you could say. If you thought Jake was attractive, then Jake in formal clothing was absolutely irresistible. He would always wear black suit pants, along with a white button-up. His shirt would always be rolled up at a perfect height, allowing you to sneak glances at his arms while making his coffee between zoom-meetings. And sometimes he even wore a god damn tie. Oh god when Jake wore a tie you could not take your eyes off him. Shamelessly you would always watch him at home, greeting your mom - welcoming her home after a long day at work, while loosening up his tie with one hand, showing off his skin in the prosses.  

When walking into his office, you noticed that he was nowhere in sight. Maybe he went to the bathroom? Well, you could just leave the plate on his desk, and Jake could thank you later, hopefully out of his work-outfit. 

You walked up to his desk to put the plate down, and couldn’t help but to look at his computer. You were always nosy, and just wanted to have a small peak on what your step-dad was working on. 

But the things on his computer make you let out a loud gasp, accidentally dropping the plate on the desk - making half of the fruit fall from the plate. 

All over his computer, there was porn. Porn everywear. He was watching porn, not working. You hastily grab the computer mouse, scrolling through the site. Omg. And it wasn’t just any porn, it was porn related to you. 

All over the screen it was stepdad-stepdaughter related porn, full on display for you to see. And by the looks of it, Jake had already watched the majority of the videos. 

You looked around the office to see if Jake had noticed you watching his screen, before hastily sitting down on his chair. Your heart was beating loud in your chest while you continued to watch the lewd pictures displaying on the screen. What if he sees you in front of your computer? What would he say? 

Embarrassed, but too curious to not continue, you scrolled through all the videos he had watched.

Step daughter, fucked roughly by her step dad while mom is home

Step dad fucking his step daughter while mom watches 

Step daughter begging her step dad to fuck her on his desk

The room was quiet, and the horrendous titles made you unwillingly clench your thighs. Did Jake watch these videos thinking about you? Wonder which one is his favorite, the desk one maybe? Nonetheless, you clicked on it, watching the video load on the screen in front of you. You bite your nails nervously while the video in front of you still loads, looking up from the computer screen to look around for a second time to make sure that Jake hasn't caught you. 

When the video started playing, you instantly became mesmerized by the filthy scene. You couldn’t stop watching it, seeing the way the daughter was crying for her stepdad's cock on his desk made your pussy clench, already feeling the wetness forming between your legs. Your breaths got heavier and heavier, intensely watching the stepdad get his way with his stepdaughter, ramming his massive cock in and out her absurdly tight pussy. 

You lean back against his soft office chair, massaging your thighs up and down with your hand, teasing yourself, before softly grazing your fingers on your wet pussy over your jeans. You can’t help but let out a small moan, biting your lips to hide the sound escaping your lips. 

Before you could open up your pants, finally giving in to the excitement you are feeling, you suddenly see someone in the corner of your eye. You let out a surprised scream when you see who it is. 

It’s Jake. Shit. How long had he been standing there? 

Jake is leaning against the doorframe, smirking when he sees you sitting by his desk, obviously watching one of the porn videos on his computer. He is still wearing his office clothes. Fuck. And even his stupid black tie. Damn you are really fucked. 

The smirk on his face makes you even hornier, clenching your thighs - something that doesn’t get unnoticed by Jake. “Why are you surprised, baby? It seems like you were enjoying yourself, didn’t think my sweet step-daughter was so naughty” 

You quickly jump out from his chair, backing away while shaking your head, hands in front of your chest to deny his accusations. “I-Im sorry I was just curious- I- I’m leaving now” You say, trying to walk past him before you can feel his hand grabbing your arm. You look up at Jake, and he almost looks angry, his smirk replaced with a stern face. “Where do you think you are going, do you think you can snoop around on my computer without permission, without some sort of punishment?” 

Jake was staring down at you, his grip on your arm beginning to hurt because of his strength. You shake your head again, looking up at him with big eyes, trying to ignore the arousal his harsh words give you between your legs. “Why were you in my office in the first place y/n?” He still holds your arm with his hand, the other now holding your waist, keeping you in place close to him. 

“I-i was just”, you try to form a sentence but you're too embarrassed by how close he is, even being able to smell his coffee breath. You glance over your shoulder to look at the apple bites you cut, still all over his table from when you dropped the plate. Jake looks in the same direction before a smile forms on his face. 

“Aw, baby, did you prepare those? For me?” He says, while tilting his head, his tongue grazing over his lips. If he wasn’t your step-dad, your moms husband, then you would really want to kiss him right now. As long as Jake doesn’t take another step, you could maybe resist him. But by the looks of it, backing down is not part of his plan. 

A hand still on your arm, he drags you to his office chair, sits down while pulling you with him - making you sit on his lap. You feel his cock against your inner thigh, already hard probably from watching you almost get off earlier in front of his computer. You watch as Jake's hand leaves your arm, picking up on the apple bites on his desk, before bringing it up to your mouth.

 “Open up” he says, poking your lips with the fruit. You obligate, opening your mouth - letting yourself be fed by Jake while sitting on top of him. You wrap your lips around the apple slice and take a bite. 

The way Jake was looking at you eating from his hand could only be described as predatory, his mouth letting out heavy breath from arousal. “Does it taste good, baby? hm?”. With the apple slice still in your mouth, you are unable to answer with words, nodding your head up and down. He lets out a small chuckle, while caressing your cheek with his hand, when suddenly he grabs your jaw. 

“Maybe I want a taste too”, he says looking down at your lips before hungrily kissing you. While he roughly kisses you, playing with the barely-there-apple bites in your mouth with his tongue, his hand sneakily rises up inside your shirt. You moan both at the feeling of his hand nearly touching your boobs and at the feeling of his cook against your clothed core. You feel Jake’s smirk against your lips when hearing your erotic sound, his hand suddenly grabbing your waist to push you further down on his bulge. You stop kissing him because of his actions, looking at him with pleading eyes. 

“Fuck, we can’t do this Jake” You really were pathetic. Your words were saying something, but the way your hips were grinding back and forth on his hard cock, mouth agape, forrowed eyebrows just begging to be fucked was signaling something else. You tried to sound so innocent, but really you were just a cock slut. 

“Maybe, but you are making it way worse when you grind like that on your step-dads dick like a slut” You were so cute, your movement in combination with how desperate you look makes him harder and harder every second. He leans back on his chair, and admires your state, grabbing a part of your hair to play with between his fingers. 

“But you’re right, we shouldn't” His words almost make you disappointed, you can’t lie. You kinda wish he got his way with you like in one of the porn videos he was watching. He cups your cheek and you lean into his touch, feeling up his rough hands against your soft skin. He shouldn’t, really shouldn’t, but he can’t resist you. “I know something else you could do”

He suddenly pushes you off of him, and grabs your shoulders - pushing you further down until your knees hit the floor. You look up at him with a confused stare, while Jake opens up new taps on his computer, erasing the porn that before was on screen. “Don’t let out any sound while you do it” He couldn’t mean, could he? “We don’t want my colleagues to find out my step-daughter is sucking me off, don’t we?” He says, now looking down on you between his legs, his eyes hooded and lips red from the kiss. 

He turned his concentration towards his computer, calling up his colleagues for a “spontaneous” meeting. The thrill of maybe getting caught with you makes his dick twitch, causing Jake to let out a moan at the thought. 

Jake looked like a mess. Messy hair, red cheeks, a hand on his cock - massaging it while looking intensely at his computer. His shirt was almost unbuttoned - showing off his chiseled stomach and his tie was hanging loose from his neck. Oh you wish he could use the fabric to choke you, drag you around holding it like a leash.

“Be a good girl now and please your daddy, alright?” He says while unbuckling his belt, right before unbuttoning his pants - pulling them down alongside his boxers in one go.

His cock was massive, to say the least. His tip was red, leaking with preecum - and it almost looked like his cock hurt from how hard it was, begging to be sucked. Jake, already starting his meating, sneakily looked down at you and whispered. “Like what you see baby?”, using his hand to squeeze the top of his cock, making more preecum leak out from the tip. 

Your mouth was watering, softly touching the veins on his cock, making Jake let out a hiss - grabbing his dick to slap it on your cheek. “Start sucking, slut. And don’t you dare tease me”, he says as quietly as possible, trying to not make his coworkers grow any suspicion. He looked up again at his computer screen, smiling enthusiastically when one of his coworkers started to speak, while guiding his leaking cock between your lips. 

Because of his growing impatience, he wastes no time to push his length into your mouth. The feeling of his hard dick into your soft mouth makes him lean back against his chair, glancing down on you. He has to see what you look like with his cock in your mouth. He lets out a small groan when he sees the way you look up at him back, big innocent eyes while your mouth slowly works up and down his length - trying not to gag. Fuck. How could you look at him like that, while having his cock in your mouth? 

His cock is almost too big for you, making you use your hands to jerk him off at the base of his cock. When he sees your small hands trying to fit around his girth, he almost lets out a loud enough moan for his co-workers to hear. You were so cute, really concentrating to please him just the way he wants to be pleased, making sure to not leave a single inch untouched - either pleased by your hand or your mouth. 

Jake has to cover his mouth to muffle his moans, his hips starting to thrust up - fucking your mouth to get closer. This causes you to gag every time his dick hits deep down your throat, tears beginning to form in your eyes. 

When Jake looks down on you, he almost loses his breath. Saliva was running down from your mouth, using it to lubricate his dick to make it easier for him to go deeper into your mouth. The tears forming in your eyes are now sliding down your cheek, your makeup getting completely destroyed because of him. He completely destroyed you, and you let him, and he can’t wait anymore. 

“Uhm, Jake? Are you okay?  Your face is completely red and you're sweating, are you sick?” Fuck, fuck, fuck. If Jake doesn’t come up with a pathetic excuse, then they will definitely know that the reason why he is red and sweaty is not because he is sick - but because he is getting head by his step-daughter. He tries to answer without letting out any suspicious sound.  “I-ah” Shit. 

“Are you hurt Jake?” His other co-worker asks, looking generally concerned by his moan. He glances down at you. The last thing he is right now is hurt. When you see Jake look down at you, you smirk up at him, suddenly deepthroating his dick - every inch of it inside your mouth, down your throat. Jake begins to internally panic of this, are trying to get him caught?

“I-I need to go”, Jake says, and without letting the others answer, he turns off his computer to give his full attention to you. 

He grabs your head and pushes your face down towards his cock, making you let out a painful cry. “Fuck, baby, your mouth is so warm.” He throws his head back against his chair, still holding your head down on his cock to make sure you gag around him, almost getting harder from the pathetic sounds you let out. 

He finally pushes your head back, letting your breath for a second before slamming his cock inside your mouth again. This time, however, he doesen’t wait, but continues to fuck in and out your mouth. “You like this huh? Sucking your step-dads dick in his office like the little whore you truly are?” His words are completely degrading, but the way he says it makes you even wetter, disgustingly grinding on the floor to feel some sort of friction. 

“Yeah, grind your pussy on the floor slut” He says, the pace he fucks your mouth getting faster the closer he gets to cum inside your mouth. You know he is close by the way his moans get louder and louder, his eyes completely shut from pleasure. “F-fuck, baby, I’m cumming” Jake says, shoting his load inside your mouth. 

He grabs your hair, causing you to wince with his cum still inside of your mouth. He looks at you and licks his lips. "Swallow, all of it” You do as he says, feeling his cum slide down your throat, opening up your mouth for him to see that every drop of his cum was now inside of your stomach. 

Jake leans back on his chair, manspreading, and puts both of his hands on his thighs. His cock is already hard again on top of his stomach, seconds after getting sucked by you. He slaps his thighs and tilts his head to the side, looking at you. “Did you think it was over? Now come here baby and ride daddy's dick”

[httpdwaekki]

tummy | s.c.

wc: 2.7k

summary: binnie is feeling a bit insecure about he tummy, but you’re there to tell him how much you love it.

warnings: smut 18+ (MDNI), chubbyfem!reader, tummy praise !!!, petnames, hand job (m. rec), unprotected sex (use protection!!), crying, def more, read at ur own risk!!

a/n: happy binnie day!!! happy birthday to my favorite boy <33 and of course i had to do a lil something for his tummy :3 this is week two or binnie month w @straykeedz !! special thank you to @thefantasyden for doing a quick proofread for me <33. i hope you enjoy, remember to eat, drink water and take your meds, ily <3

자기야 = honey.

my library | bee’s vers | bee | binnie month | fundraiser

(photos not mine! credit to owners!)

you love binnie’s tummy, you never let him forget it, and you touch it every chance you get.

but you had noticed a slight change in him. he was wearing less compression shirts and would tense up whenever you’d even brush his tummy. you knew what was happening, you knew the feeling all too well.

you made it your mission to make sure he knew how much you loved his tummy. and you finally got your chance.

you walk into your bedroom to find him laying on your bed, fresh out of the shower, towel wrapped around his waist. the water droplets still drying on his tan skin - his soft tummy on full display. he had his legs hanging off the front of your bed, scrolling through his phone, oblivious to your presence.

you make your way over to where he was, grabbing his attention as you climb onto the bed. he moves his phone, focusing on you as you move to lay on his tummy. you feel him tense for a moment, before he relaxes, putting his phone down next to him, giving you a soft smile.

“hi 자기야.” he whispers, placing one hand on your cheek, the other laying the cover the rest of his tummy. you feel a pang in your chest as you glance at his hand, covering his tan skin.

“hi bub.” you whisper back, placing a hand on top of the one that’s on your cheek. you look at each other for a moment before you turn your head, placing kisses across his soft tummy, feeling him tense once more

your hand still holding his, thumb brushing his fingers in a soothing motion- you sit up on your knees next to him, taking his free hand in yours.

you lean down, placing more kisses, looking up at him through your lashes as you place your lips across his plush tummy. you pull away, moving yourself to straddle him, placing his hands to your soft thighs.

you lean down to become eye level with him, place your hands on his cheeks. his eyes are wide, filled with confusion, the slightest glint of unshed tears.

“you know you’re gorgeous right?” you ask searching his eyes for any refusal. “and that i love your tummy so much, it’s one of my favorite parts of you.” the tears now prominent on his lash line, he shakes his head slighty. your heart breaks a little, you feel a familiar sting behind your eyes.

“you know how you always tell me how much you love every part of me, especially my tummy because you know i’m eating good and healthy.” he nods his head as a tear slips down his face. you quickly wipe the tear, continuing the soothing motion.

“i feel the same way about you. you’re the reason i can look at my tummy and not feel completely disgusted with myself. because i see a piece of you in myself when i look in the mirror. and i could never feel that way about you.” you feel a tear slip down your cheek, ignoring it, focusing on the man in front of you.

you lean back, quickly ridding yourself of your shirt, exposing your chubby tummy to him. leaving you in only your pink panties, feeling vulnerable under his gaze. you place his hands on either side of your waist, before continuing, “is this ugly or disgusting to you?” you ask quietly, slightly scared of the answer but you knew he needed this.

he shakes his head quickly, more tears shedding in wake of the movement. “then why is it any different from this?” you place your hands on his soft tummy.

you lean down, placing more kisses to the area, rubbing gentle circles to his sides as you do. his hands fall to your thighs once again, drawing circles on each one.

you kiss your way up his sternum, giving his pecs a few stare kisses as well before each nipple. he inhales a sharp breath as you kiss the sensitive buds.

you kiss all the way up his neck, across his jawline, each cheek before coming face to face with him. “i love you no matter what you look like,” you pause looking into his eyes, “as long as you’re happy and healthy, i don’t care if you have abs or a chubby tummy. as long as you are alive and well i will love you and your body no matter what, okay?”

his eyes are bloodshot but full of love as they look into yours. he sniffles, nodding his head before you lean down, giving him a passionate kiss. you bring one hand up to his cheek, the other staying on his tummy.

his hand moves to your cheek, pulling you impossibly closer. after a couple minutes, you pull away resting your forehead against his, both of you catching your breath.

“i love you so much.” he whispers, his chest raising and falling as he breathes. you smile pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “can i show you how much i love you?” you ask quietly against his skin.

he nods softly, pulling you back to his lips once more. you slowly make your way back down his body, leaving kisses as you make your way down, sparing a few extra to his tummy. you carefully kneel in front of the bed as he sits up.

you undo his towel, revealing his semi hard length, his pink tip leaking slightly. you give his thighs soft kiss each, causing him to tense, inhaling sharply, looking down at you.

you kiss your way up his thigh before grabbing his cock, give his tip a kiss. you move up, placing a kiss to his lips. “relax pretty boy,” you whisper against his lips, your thumb brushing his tip, causing him to stutter. “i got you, 자기야.” he groans into your mouth, kissing you before pulling away.

“you’re gonna be the death of me.” he sighs, leaning back on his hands. you giggle, placing kisses on body as you stroke his dick, making sure to pay extra attention to the glistening tip.

“god i love your tummy,” you say quietly into the soft flesh, picking up your movements, tightening your hand slightly.

“ah- fuck.” he hisses, throwing his head back, a hand coming up to cover his face. you grab his hand on his face, lacing his finger through yours, placing the intertwined hands on his thigh.

you feel his tummy tighten under your lips, signaling him coming closer to his release. you kiss your way up his body once, making it up to his ear, nibbling on the lobe.

“i know you close baby boy,” you kiss behind his ear, “let go.” you place a kiss to his jaw, giving extra attention to his tip, sending him tumbling into his release.

he squeezes your hand, turning his head into you as he groans, his cum spurts all over his soft tummy and your hands. you stroke him through his orgasm, his breathing heavy as he comes down from his high.

you pull away, looking at the mess he created, wasting no time bringing your hand down up to lick the salty substance off your fingers. you keep eye contact as you pull the digits out of your mouth.

“god i fucking love you.” he grabs your cheeks pulling your lips back to his. you grab the edge of the large towel, wiping his tummy before he grabs your hips, manhandling you onto his lap. you let out a noise of surprise into his mouth and as he grips your waist.

your arms wrap around his shoulder as he pulls your legs to wrap around his waist, pulling back slightly. “hold on sweet girl.” he warns but barely gives you time to react before he stands up.

he tosses the towel to the side, before laying you on the mattress. he places a kiss to the white bow on your panties, moving up to your soft tummy. mirroring exactly what you did to him, placing soft kisses over your tummy, trailing them up your sternum, placing a kiss to each peaked bud.

his arms move to cage you in, kissing up your neck and jaw, coming face to face to you. you smile, your hands coming up to lay on his biceps, turning your head to give one a kiss. “hi 자기야.” he whispers, loving eyes, flicker across your whole face.

“hi pretty boy.” you whisper back, bringing your hand up to lay against his chubby cheek. your thumb brushes his soft lips as he places a kiss to your kiss, pulling a giggle from you.

“as much as i love you worshiping my body, i thought it’s your turn this time big boy.” you lean up, placing a kiss on his soft lips. you tap his bicep, “come on.” you say against his lips.

he sighs before flipping over, laying flat on his back next to you. you sit up on your knees patting his thigh, “scoot up bub.” he complies, moving to lay against the pillows.

once he settled you moved to straddle him, your clothed core pressing against his bare semi hard cock. you lean down, hands finding his plush tummy once more as your lips find his.

you rock your hips, as your lips move against his, feeling him harden beneath your soaked panties. he has one hand positioned on your thigh, the other on your cheek, keeping you close to him.

he moaned into the kiss, kneading the soft flesh of your thigh. you pull away, sliding your thumbs into the waistband of your pink garment. you move your leg to get up but he quickly brings a hand up to stop it.

you pause looking at him, silently asking him what was wrong. “sorry-“ he gently pulls your leg back to the bed, bringing his hands to your hips. “can you just- lean back for me for a second baby.”

you listen, leaning back, placing your hands between his legs for balance. your legs spread a bit at the action, revealing the darkened spot on your panties to him.

he brings his hand up to rest on your pelvis, thumb rubbing slow circles on your clothes clit. “ah.” you sigh at the slight stimulation, your breathing picking up. he slowly picks up the pace, “look you, my sweet girl, treating me so well.” he sits up, causing you to fall back a little further.

he places kisses in the little bow on your waistband before sparing a kiss to your tummy. “my baby deserves something too, no?” his circles becoming faster and tighter, just like the coil in your belly.

“ah- bin-nie” you stutter, the more the coil tightens. you’re breathing is heavy, your hips have amind of their own, grinding against the signle digit.

“come on, bunny, give it to me, give it to binnie.” his words causing the coil to snap instantly.

“ah- fuck!” you whine, bringing a hand up to your tit, squeezing the soft flesh, brushing your senstive nipples in the process. “binnie- ah.” you moan as he continues the stimulation through your high.

once you come down he takes in the now bigger darkened patch. he places a kiss to the soaked fabric before tapping your leg, helping you pull off the material.

once you relax again, back in your previous position, leaning on your elbows this time. he uses one hand to spread your lips, giving your bundle a flick or two, your legs spasm at the action.

you sit back up, meeting him face to face, pushing him back down on the bed, “this is still about you, you know?” you ask, rolling your hips, causing your wet core to slide against his hard cock.

“you ready?” you whisper, looking into his eyes. he nods leaning up to give your lips a peck. you reached down, pumping his length a few times before rubbing his angry, leaking tip between your wet folds.

“ah fuck bunny.” he hisses, his hands finding your thighs once more, gripping the flesh. you whine as you slowly sink down on his thick length, thankful for your arousal allowing for easier access.

once you’re fully seated on his cock you lay onto his chest for a moment, enjoying the closeness and getting used to the stretch. he brings his arm to wrap around you, placing a kissing to the side of your head before you lift it.

“hi pretty boy.” you say softly, smile spreading across your face. “hi pretty girl.” he replies just as softly, smile gracing his lips.

you place you hands firming on his chest, bouncing slightly, your mouth falling open at the sensation. “fuck.” you whisper, dropping your head in pure bliss.

his cock stretching you so deliciously, the postion making it so he hits that one gummy spot that makes your toes curl. changbin wasn’t doing much better, one hand on your knee, the other squeezing your tit, pinching your nipples.

“ah! fuck i’m so full.” you groan, feeling filled to the brim and loving every second.

his hand drops to your bundle of nerves, pulling a high pitched moan from you. you slide your hands down to his soft tummy, loving the way it feels under your touch.

“fuck look at you,” you look at him as you bounce. “my big boy making me feel so good, like no else ever could.” you caress the soft skin, feeling him tense under your touch as your own release approaches.

“fuck i love you so much.” he groans, before thrusting up into your, making you lost your balance and fall into his chest. “i love you too.” you moan.

“rub your pretty little clit for me baby.” you comply, to fucked out to think about anything but changbin and your release.

you bring your hand down between your bodies, finding the senstive nub, rubbing quick circles. you clench at the added stimulation, pulling a groan from the man below you.

“god it’s like you’re made for me.” you nod, tears feeling your eyes because of the pleasure and love you have for him. he wraps his arms around you, rubbing your back as you ride him.

“made for binnie.” you babble, your circles getting sloppier, boucy becoming hard as your legs give out.

he takes notice of this, wrapping his arms tighter before quickly thrusting into you, pulling a silent scream from you. your eyes roll to the back of your head as changbin pounds into you, chasing both your releases.

“ah! fuck i love you, you fill me up so good, mine.” you babble, pure ecstasy floods your veins.

“i can feel it 자기야, let go for me, show me how much you love me.” the coil snaps once more, you’re not even sure you’re rubbing your clit, your fingers just brushing it with every thrust.

he follows soon after, your release was enough to send him other the edge. “ah- fuck .” he moans in your ear as he cums. he fucks you through both your orgasms before he stills, keeping you on him.

after a few moments you finally places your hands on his chest, gaining some sort of leverage to look at him. you whine as you feel him shift inside of you as you move.

you place a hand to his flushed cheek, rubbing it softly. “i love you soso much, no matter what you look like, that will never change.” you kiss him passionately, wrapping your arms around him as best you could.

you both wince at the movement, both of you feeling senstive. “i love you too my beautiful girl.” he kisses the side of your face wrapping his arms around you.

after a moment or too he taps you butt (to watch it jiggle) to signal you to get up. you slowly make your way off him, his soft length slipping out of you with ease, his cum sure to follow.

once you both pee, get changed and change the sheets, you cuddle up in bed, laying on his naked chest, pressing kisses every few seconds.

“i love you, bin, not matter what you look like okay? you’re mine forever.” you mumble into his pec, placing a kiss over his heart as if to seal it.

“i wouldn’t want it any other way.” you whispers , placing a kiss to your temple at you both drift off in each other’s arms.

do not repost

(comments and reblogs are always appreciated <3)

[misctf]

Make it Make Sense

Adam sat at his computer, finishing up a calculus assignment. He was trying to stay focused, but his thoughts shifted to his weekend plans. A few of his buddies were going to get together to see the football game, and he was looking forward to his club soccer game on Sunday. For all intents and purposes, it was going to be perfect.

“Are you serious?” The nasally voice of Adam’s roommate interrupts his thoughts, “I don’t understand, this doesn’t make sense.” Kelvin says, irritation soaking his words.

“What’s wrong?” Adam asks, turning towards his nerdy roommate. There were nerds and then there’s Kelvin. At first, he was relieved to have a roommate that was going to focus on their studies. But Kelvin proved to be more of a distraction than he could’ve ever expected.

“You know what’s wrong!” Kelvin says, “Look!” He slams his most recent lab report on Adam’s desk, “A 91%! That’s an A-.” He grumbles.

“That’s a great grade.”

“No, no, no! You got a 96%!” He continues, “How did you get a higher grade than me?”

You shrug, “It’s not that big of a deal. You’ll do better next time. And I know people that would kill for that grade.” Adam says, turning back to his assignment.

“No. That still doesn’t answer my question.” Kelvin adjusts his glasses, “How did you get a better grade?”

Adam runs a hand through his brunette hair, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re not supposed to be smart.” Kelvin retorts, “You like football and you play sports. Smart people don’t do that.” Adam raises an eyebrow, “You can’t be both.”

Adam chuckles, “Both?”

“A nerd and a jock!”

Adam smirks, “Alright, well why can’t I be both?”

“You can only be one.” Kelvin insists.

“Only one?” Adam chuckles. He wasn’t what one would consider a jock. Nor was he a total nerd. He always felt he was somewhere in the middle, “Hate to break it to you, but I’m not much of either. What do you think?”

Kelvin gave his roommate a curious look, clearly thinking hard about the question. He slowly smiles.

“Well, I guess all jocks have big muscles. And I mean, those are certainly impressive.”

Adam raises an eyebrow and looks down at himself. He could see his biceps and triceps putting strain on his shirt. And his pecs seemed to be jutting out a bit more than he was used to. He lifts a hand and feels his muscular chest. It felt unfamiliar to him.

“What...?”

“And I guess it makes sense that you never wear a shirt. Jocks hate hiding their muscles.”

The chill of the room air tickled Adam’s skin, his eyes narrowing as his bare torso is on full display. Wasn’t he just wearing a shirt? He looks up at Kelvin, clearly trying to make sense of what was going on.

“Wow, I mean, I knew your muscles were big, but now I can really see them.”

Adam grunted as his musculature expands. His pecs filling with more muscle, while his biceps and triceps grew larger and larger. He let out a pained grunt as his shoulders broaden and his back fills with muscle. He frame a now hulking mass of manly muscle.

“And I always found it odd how often you shaved your body hair. Always going on about how being clean shaven helps highlight your pecs.”

Adam looked down and watched as his dusting of chest and belly hairs vanish. His skin now clean-shaven and slowly staining with a rich tan. A tan he got from all his shirtless runs. Shirtless runs? He shakes his head.

“Kelvin, wh... something isn’t right, bro.” Adam’s eyes widen, “Dude, seriously! Cut this out, bro!”

“Say ‘bro’ and ‘dude’ ironically enough times and soon it becomes part of your vernacular.” Kelvin mocked, “But I doubt you’re worried about that. You care more about finding the right lighting for a quick flex.”

Adam gasps as he feels compelled. He slowly flexes his bicep, the lighting perfectly highlighting his musculature and abs. He can’t help but grin.

“And I can tell you care even less for hygiene.”

Adam grimaces at the musky smell that wafts from his exposed pit. But slowly, his grimace shifts into a grin. Something about his man musk always brings him a sense of joy. The smell of a real man. He barely registers his brunette hair becoming lighter, until the brunette becomes a blonde.

“Yeah, a blond jock. That’s what makes the most sense.” Kelvin continues, “But outside of flexing and enjoying your own stench, I guess it would make sense if you were obsessed with...”

“W-wait!” Adam says suddenly, “Please... Kelvin...” He looks desperately at his roommate.

“Don’t worry, it’ll all make sense.” Kelvin reassures, “Because jocks like you are dumber than a lamppost. Barely even able to do basic math. So obsessed with your body that you don’t have time to nourish your brain.”

Adam’s eyes widen as he can literally feel his brain shrinking. His intelligence, knowledge, and kindness quickly being overwritten. His school smarts replaced by gym routines and different poses. His empathy and kindness twisting into self-indulgence and narcissism. His eyes glaze over as they reflect his new IQ. A smirk forms on his chiseled face as brazen overconfidence overwhelms any semblance of decency. He looks up at Kelvin.

“The fuck you lookin’ at nerd?” He scoffs, “You like what you see, bro?” He flexes his biceps.

Kelvin smiles, “Don’t you have soccer practice?”

“Pfft soccer, bro? Really? Shit sport. I gotta lift.” Adam retorts. He looks over at his computer, “What the fuck is that?” He quickly exits out of his calculus assignment and stands up.

“Wait, Adam...”

“Adam? Nah bro. I’ve told you 100 fuckin’ times to call me AJ.”

“Right. AJ,” Kelvin says, “Don’t you need a shirt for the gym?”

The dumb chuckle that follows is music to Kelvin’s ears, “Nah bro, why’d I hide this?” He flexes again, “Trust me, the dudes and chicks at the gym dig this.”

Kelvin watches as AJ slams the door behind him. A grin forming on the nerd’s face. Everything made sense now. And while Kelvin celebrated his newfound comfort with reality, AJ took great pride in the looks he was getting from the people he passed by. Flaunting his muscles at every chance he got. His smaller brain satisfied with the attention. His dick twitching from the excitement of being lusted after. Because to him, this made sense. Who wouldn’t want to ogle over his hot bod? That’s right, no one.

[princessbrunette]

sleepy n thinkin ab using rafe while he’s on game!!

he’s too focused to care that you’re just so needy for him, whining and crying because you want him so bad till it gets to the point where you’re splayed in front of him, panties gone n rubbing yourself on his bulge just to feel a little bit better!!

⛸️✧˖°❅🤍

something about his nonchalance only further riles you up. he dodges around your head when you straddle him— hot in the face and teary eyed. you’d become tired of being ignored, but that romantic sickness that swirled in your stomach betrays you, and you miss him despite his presence being so close physically. he’s right there, but he hasn’t so much as glanced at you in hours.

his bulge presents itself to you. it’s always there, thick and prominent in any pair of slacks he wears, even clear in the old pair of grey sweatpants he wears to bed. you wondered why rafe never would be caught dead in the casual garment, being such a popular clothing item to sport among guys his age — and aside from his attachment to old money and being a ‘grown man’, maybe he wouldn’t wear sweatpants out doors because he was afraid of showing too much. after all, you could practically see each vein in his cock through the material.

if ignoring you for a screen wasn’t enough, he wears a headset today too. he’s not even a gamer, he wouldn’t call himself one anyway — viewing it as a hobby to be juvenile and time wasting. however; he was a sucker for 2K, coarse thumbs dashing across joysticks as he swears into the mic, undoubtably bossing topper or kelce about, telling them to pull their weight. classic rafe.

your legs are split either side of him as you find solace in the warm skin of his neck, peeking from the blue t-shirt he wears. he doesn’t mind you, it’s nothing he’s not used to anyway — your clingy and grabby ways catching up with you after an evening of being pretty much ignored for his friends and virtual characters on a screen. you’ve soaked yourself, it’s embarrassing really — how much watching your boyfriend relax and blow off steam can rile you up. like previously mentioned, it’s the lack of acknowledgment too. at this point, you’d do anything to appoint the attention to yourself.

“careful, baby.” is all he offers, barely opening his mouth to say it as he concentrates on the screen. you respond with a pleased hum as you grind on his bulge and he adjusts his headset, sitting up a little straighter with paranoia that his friends might hear. despite this, he continues to play — and you continue to hump him.

it’s clear it feels good for him too, because whilst he outwardly ignores you— he leans back, licking his lips and bucking his hips ever so slightly to adjust his seating, eyes glued to the screen. he even continues to boss his friends around through his headset, but you’re refusing to ignore the way his voice comes out just that bit breathier and slower, playing a little worse on the screen.

he knows when to call it quits on the game — and it’s when you really start putting on a show. you sit back, feet pressed onto the bed as you spread your knees wider — displaying your cunt fully to him as you grind, letting your pleased whimpers free without a care for his friends hearing. you tune in to what he’s saying through the mic as he speaks his farewell.

“alright — hey, i’m goin’. my girls — shutup, topper — my girl needs me. don’t expect you suckers to understand. yeah whatever bro.” you’re not sure what he’s responding to and you don’t care, only whining when your folds audibly part, your stickiness calling to him.

he yanks the headset off his head and looks down on you with a glassy gaze and parted lips.

“you wanna be heard. that right?”

“no, just want you.” you combat pathetically, panting like a puppy as you hump on your boyfriend.

“yeah…” he drawls, grasping a thick handful of your hip, lips shining from his tongue’s coat in the darkened hue of his bedroom. “you want attention. tha’s what you fuckin’ want.”

you pout at this, wishing he’d drop the mean act for just a moment. you can usually work it out of him, keep pleasing him ‘til he breaks — getting soft and sometimes even silly on you. you roll your hips, inspiring a low hum from him now as he helps you along with two hands on your ass.

“maybe i just missed you, rafey.” you groan, high pitched and bordering on pornagraphic. his nose scrunched when his lips part, eyes fixated on the way your folds part around the girth of his shape in his sweatpants.

“so god damn fuckin’ sexy.” he speaks through gritted teeth, and in a split flash you’re on your back — rafe hovering above you with strong greedy hands pinning you down. “gettin’ off on my lap. who’d you think you are, hm?” he hums, taking the lead as he noses at your jaw. there’s a faint clattering of his headset sliding off the sheets but you ignore it, lost in the moment.

“think m’your girl.” you daze, and if there’s any message your boyfriend drills into your head, it’s that his girl is allowed to take what she wants. even from him.

“got that right.” he’s fighting his sweatpants down with one hand, shoving your thighs open with the other. you didn’t need any preparation today, the art of being purely ignored for a game had gotten you as wet as they come.

⛸️✧˖°❅🤍

[gtgbabie0]

can i request a leon x reader, where leon takes polaroid pictures of reader and keeps some in him wallet. fluff or nsfw you pick 💕

Polaroids

{Leon keeps Polaroids of you}

This has been eating at my mind, I need him so bad!!

!18!

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Leon isn’t joking when he says he loves you from every and any angle, and he certainly wasn’t joking when he asks to take pictures of you, very raunchy pictures, for his eyes only because god knows Leon Kennedy doesn’t share especially when it comes to you.

That’s why you let him because you know for a fact they won’t be seen by anyone but him and because the idea excites you more than you care to admit.

“Fuck- such a pretty girl” You can hear the machinery in the Polaroid as it pushes out another picture, Leon’s free hand rubbing along your thigh, as you sit on his lap.

His fingers trace against the lace of your underwear, so delicately that you almost don’t even feel it, “Absolute Angel, my angel” he says noticing the way your hips grind against him in a desperate attempt to feel something, and you smile proudly when he lets out a shaky breath.

He loves how needy you’ve become, whining about how he’s ‘wearing too much’ as your hands grasp at the ends of his shirt urging him to take it off, but he’s quick to swat them away.

“Leon, take it off” you whine once more, fingers playing with the end of his shirt, it isn’t fair that he’s still clothed while you’re near enough naked sitting on top of him.

His hands continue to run along your thighs, “Such a needy thing” he says, leaning to press kisses to your neck a clash of teeth and tongue against the sensitive skin, and your hands thread through his hair urging him closer to you as he trails along your collar bones, and you can’t stop your hips from stuttering against his as his hand pushes against your lower back bringing you closer to him.

He pulls away, as he takes his shirt off and you watch how his muscles tense and move with the movement as he throws the fabric in the corner of the room, your hands instantly go for his stomach, gentle fingers tracing along his abs up to his chest, you notice the way his muscles tense at your delicate touch, Leon almost seems prideful at they way you gawk at him.

“Smile for me angel,” he says as he unclasps your bra, letting the straps fall down your shoulders, he points the camera to your chest, “Touch yourself baby” he prompts, watching as your hands squeeze at your boobs, he takes the picture, the dim flash lights the room for a second, and you hear him groan at the sight, as you once again grind against him and you can feel him underneath you.

Your fingers wrap around his wrist slowly guiding his hand towards your lap, he presses his fingers against the wet patch that stains your underwear, and he’s quick to move the camera to capture the sight, his finger circling your clit through your underwear, “Touch me Leon” you sigh and he goes dizzy with nothing but desperate want.

You honestly don’t really remember much, that was until today, so perhaps that’s why you almost have a heart attack when you hand Leon his wallet, the pictures of you tucked away in one of the pockets.

You gasp in complete shock, “What?” He chuckles at your expression, how your mouth is slightly agape with surprise, “You don’t like them?” He teases and you’re far too embarrassed to respond with some snarky comment.

“Leon, why do you have them there? I mean in your wallet of all places?” You ask, hand clasping over your mouth as you look down at the Polaroids of you, there’s one of just your chest your boobs on full display while you squeeze at them, and another, just your hips against his as you sit on his lap, and you can see how hard he is underneath you.

He laughs at your embarrassment, “So I don’t get bored at work” he whispers kissing your forehead, and you shake your head at the thought.

“God Leon- that’s so gross” you sigh, trying to ignore the way he’s looking at you.

“Oh yeah? Because I remember you taking this one” he says pulling out another picture, and your heart almost stops at the sight of your fingers knuckle deep inside your cunt, wearing one of Leon’s old shirts, and you close your eyes as the memory comes rushing back,

“That one is my personal favorite” he whispers pressing a kiss to your jaw and you go silent with shock, feeling very flushed, completely forgetting you had done that.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

[haetrack]

Haechan hard hours.

Can't get the idea of Haechan being obsessed with tits outta my head. Maybe I'm just going crazy

don’t even get me started on this SERIOUSLY

boob obsessed haechan would not be able to keep his hands to himself. he was already a touchy person, so once you started dating him, he touched you as much as he liked. you noticed he took a particular liking to your chest, hands always teasing you both over and under your shirt. he would even try to touch you secretly in public, making you wear an oversized shirt so he can cup his hands over your boobs.

it’s why you shouldn’t be too surprised when you get a text from him one day of a link to a porn site. another texts follows, him asking if you both could do what was shown in the video. after watching it yourself, there was no way you could say no to him.

which leads you to today, haechan sat right over your chest, practically heaving as he stares down at your tits on display for him. he shakily takes them in his hands, his cheeks turning a pretty pink as he gropes your boobs. he whines when you stare at him teasingly, “you don’t realize how much this is getting to me!”

shrugging, you say, “you were the one who wanted to do this.”

ignoring your teasing, he brings his hips closer to your boobs, freeing his cock from the confines of his boxers. he’s already hard just from the sight of your boobs, his tip leaking precum, begging for your touch. he bites down on his lip as his tip enters the valley of your breasts. he pushes your boobs together, hips canting forward when he feels them wrapped around his cock.

he’s quick to set a pace, sloppy and messy, not realizing just how good it would feel. it doesn’t help that you’re looking up at him in awe, watching him use you to get himself off. he probably already looks fucked out, his own whimpers filling the air as he continues fucking his cock in between your boobs.

he already doesn’t think he’d last long like this, your soft skin against his cock making it hard for him to hold back. your voice begins to call out to him, begging for him to cum. his eyes close, shaking his head as he tries to make the moment last longer. what he doesn’t expect is for your tongue to dart out, licking at his tip.

he cums with a whimper of your name, his cum shooting all over your face. it’s embarrassing for him to cum this fast, but he feels better when he opens his eyes to see you scoop up some of his cum, licking it off your fingers. he isn’t as tired as he though he was, his cock twitching at the sight. you hum, “seeing you like that… i need you, haechan. you’ll help me out, too, right?

haechan is quick to oblige, hands finding purchase on your chest again as he makes his way down to your clothed cunt. he will do anything you ask him to.

[eevees-hobbies]

Honeyed Kisses Against Tender Flesh (Fem!Reader x Hayato Suo) - NSFW

Author’s Note: I got carried away with this one. But shoutout to those of us who write for Hayato Suo cuz we really are working with crumbs. Like he’s whatever we say he is until we get more information. 

Synopsis: Your friend Kotoha and brother Hiragi are worried about your relationship with Suo. It all comes to a head at the beach, to your embarrassment and Suo's delight. No big deal, though; you’ll just have sex against Hiragi’s truck or whatever. 

Content Warning: I’m a really bad judge when it comes to dark content. To me, it’s a spectrum and while I don’t consider this particular story truly dark, others might. So I encourage you to read the warnings and make the best decision for yourself:

Smut with a plot, the obsessive kind of love, possessiveness, hickeys, bruises, biting, spit, enjoyment of public humiliation, teasing, licking of blood, sex/nudity in public, super brief mention of a golden shower, praising/worshipping language, unprotected sex, no-pulling out despite being asked (wrap it up, folks!), like he straight up says “nah.” 

Also, please note that you are written as Hiragi’s sister in this story. I do not expand on your relationship, so you might be his half-sister, full-sister, step-sister, adopted sister, etc. I say this for my readers who may hold a racial/ethnic identity different from Hiragi, hoping that you can still feel like this story is for you (because it is <3). Minors Do Not Interact.

Word Count: 3.2K

Divider by Saradika. Story banner by me.

On a day when you and your Bofurin friends decide to visit the beach, the unforgiving intensity of the sun makes you feel as though you’re simmering in a boiling pot. No one except you is ill-prepared; the men are wearing various colored shorts that seemingly match their personalities, and their unclothed torsos are on full, unapologetic display.

Kotoha, sitting on a beach towel next to you, is in a three-piece halter bikini set with a sheer sarong skirt that accentuates her curves. Even your brother Hiragi has abandoned his usual band shirt to showcase his well-toned arms and abs. You find it pretty horrifying but good for him, you think. 

It’s hard not to be jealous of all the bare, suntanned skin as you take inventory of your fit. You are wearing an oversized grey hoodie and sweatpants combo that covers every inch of you. Underneath your hefty clothes is a simple but cute black two-piece bikini you originally planned to show off that day. 

You are roasting under the sun's rays—and in your anger—as you glare at the person responsible for your attire: Hayato Suo. 

He’s sitting on the beach towel with you, his perfectly parted hair blowing softly against the breeze. Despite his attempt at trying to appear inconspicuous in reading his book, you can tell that he’s very much aware of your disdain for him with the way the corners of his mouth twitch upwards. 

Kotaho lowers her sunglasses so she’s looking at you over the rim of the frames.

“Why are you wearing a sweatshirt and sweatpants at the beach of all places? I’m getting hot just looking at you.”

You shift uncomfortably, having hoped that this was not a conversation that would come up. You instinctively pull the collar of the sweatshirt higher until it’s tucked snuggly under your chin. “It’s not so bad! I just have to stay hydrated!”

Kotoha leans closer to you and lowers her voice, obviously trying not to catch the attention of Suo. “But why? Is this a cry for help because of you-know-who? Say the word, and I will scream.”

You and Kotoha have become close since you applied for a position to work at Cafe Pothos. She was your boss, but she’s also the embodiment of a girls-girl. You bonded over cooking and annoying brother figures; there wasn’t a thing you didn’t know about each other. 

So color her shocked when one day she picked up her cell phone after receiving a series of texts that were coming in rapid succession. She had assumed the sender was Umemiya, but instead, they were from you!

8:50 PM: OMG 8:50 PM: You won’t believe what just happened to meeeeeeee ihfdnf 8:51 PM: SUO! SUO! 8:52 PM: He KISSED me!  8:55 PM: HELLO?! The love of my life just put his tongue in my mouth and you HAVE THE AUDACITY TO NOT ANSWER!? I’m heading to the cafe right fucking now.

Kotoha was confused, not because she didn’t think you deserved the world—you deserved the world and more. She was confused because she couldn’t picture you and Suo together. He was pleasant whenever he came into the cafe, only ordering tea and always leaving a big tip. But other than that, she didn't know much about him, and no one did, and that was a difficult thing to accomplish in a small town. 

So when you finally ran into the cafe, practically colliding into the glass door as you shuffled in, Kotoha poured you a fresh cup of coffee, sat you down, and asked if you were sure about this.

Were you sure it was a good idea to date a guy who wore an eyepatch, had never been seen eating, and had a different story about his life every time he was asked? You assured her that Suo was the man of your dreams and you’ve never been more sure of something in your life. And while Kotoha may not know much about Suo, there were small moments that felt as though you were gradually building up to this kiss all along. 

The way he’d offer to walk you home even though it was out of his way, how his hand would brush up against yours and linger when passing you coins to pay for his tea, and god, that smile of his that usually didn’t reach his eyes but did when he was talking to you.

You were adamant that this was something you wanted.

You didn’t exactly come out as “official,” though. In a strange way, your relationship just “was.” 

Your friends acted as though you had always been together, and the way Suo became a constant in your life—walking you home after every shift from the cafe, texting and calling you more often, holding your hand in public, and taking you out on dates to your favorite places—made it difficult to remember what life was like before him. You quickly became the shadow of the other, and not without concern from Kotoha and Hiragi. Some would call your love for each other smothering, but to you; it was anything but that—it was perfect. 

“Everything is fine, Kotoha, I promise.”

She lets out a sigh and pulls her sunglasses back up. You can see the reflection of the guys in her dark shades—Hiragi, Umemiya, Sakura, and Kaji playing volleyball, sand kicking up as shouts of, “get that, doofus!’ and “who are you calling doofus!?”  traveling over to you but being drowned out by the roar of waves breaking shore.

A bead of sweat travels down the side of your face, and you look up at the sun, hoping to will it away with a pitiful look.

“Why not take off that burdensome outfit, sweetheart?” 

Your head snaps in the direction of Suo, the tone in his voice–thick with faux concern–alluding to the pleasure he’s getting from watching you like this. He’s all too aware of what you’re hiding—he’s the culprit who put you in this situation.

He shrugs innocently, “you’re developing sweat stains,” you follow his finger as he points at you. To your horror, giant wet spots have formed at your armpits and collar. You groan, the realization that if you don’t shed these clothes soon, you’ll likely meet your untimely demise via heatstroke—and that’s a very unsexy way to go. 

A shaky hand grips the drawstring of the sweatshirt, and you peel it off with the sweatpants following shortly after. Before you can set the clothes beside you, Kotaha lets out an audible gasp. You wince, knowing that your movements and her sharp intake of breath will surely draw the boys' attention—a result that you were trying your damnedest to avoid.

You thought Hiragi’s booming voice would be the first to reach your ears, but instead, it’s Sakura’s. 

“What happened to YOU?!” 

The volleyball spinning through the air hits him square in the chest; a loud thud has him doubling over in pain, but it’s not enough to break away Hiragi’s stare from the bruises and hickeys that litter your neck, chest, and thighs.

After gathering himself, Sakura stands up and turns his attention to Suo, “You should really keep a better watch over your girl. She’s obviously getting her butt kicked somewhere-”

Sakura is unable to finish before Hiragi interjects. He takes a step forward, and if you weren’t on sand, you’d be almost positive that the sheer force would shake the earth. “Suo, what did you do to my sister's skin?”

You stare at Hiragi, deep veins already protruding from his forehead. If looks could kill, Suo would be dead right now. You give a sideglance at your boyfriend, who has two hands raised near his head and his shoulders shrugged up to appear non-threatening. 

“I am NOT doing this right now!”  You proclaim, hurriedly picking up the keys to Hiragi’s car and padding through the sand, trying your damnedest to escape the sound of rising voices. 

Suo follows you soon after de-escalating the situation. Assuring Hiragi that he may have gotten carried away with the amount of hickeys and bruises he left on your skin wasn’t easy by any means, but you two were both consenting adults, so there wasn’t much Hiragi could do anyhow. He desperately wanted to add that you didn’t mind the bruises when they were happening to you—but that didn’t seem wise.

Hiragi’s truck is parked next to the property line between the beach and the expanse of forest. When you arrived, the parking lot was full of people, but beach-goers packed their belongings and left as the day neared its end.

Suo can’t see you as he approaches the truck's passenger side, so he assumes you’re on the driver's side. As he rounds the corner, he’s met with the sight of you bending over and attempting to fish the keys off the ground, which must have fallen. The sight of your ass completely swallowing the seat of your bikini bottoms has him suddenly leaning against the car for support and blood flowing south. Even with one eye covered, he can see the outline of your puffy pussy. The bikini is much better, he thinks to himself.

You turn around, hearing the sound of gravel shifting quietly—hoping that your brother hasn’t followed you, but it’s Suo. 

“Well, that was awk-“ you begin, but you're cut off. The fluidity and quickness of his motions still surprise and catch you off guard. He pins you in place to the truck with his body—chest to chest.  

You can see arousal churning in his eye as his now rock-hard cock presses against your thigh. At that moment, you’re thankful that the shade of the trees shrouds this side of the truck and that anyone coming from the beach would need to walk around the vehicle to catch you in the act.

For Suo, the build-up of knowing what you were trying to hide from the group and the eventual reveal of his handiwork had given him one hell of a rush. Being in on the secret was fun, but the way Hiragi’s eyes darted over your skin, the way he caught Kaji’s cheeks reddening as his eyes swept over your exposed and marked-up flesh, it was practically unbearable.

Suo’s hand tugs at the string of your bikini top, and it doesn’t take long before the flimsy fabric releases and drifts to your feet. You shiver as cool air licks at your breasts and nipples, hardening the sensitive buds upon contact. It isn’t until Suo’s warm hands cup and massage your breasts that you let out a whimper; his touch feels firm and needy, delivering pinches and squeezes to the over-sensitive and bruised flesh.

“S-someone could c-catch us!” You protest in a hushed whisper, but you’re not pushing him away—you tilt your head back to rest it against the truck and arch your spine to give him more access to you.

“They’d be so lucky,” he growls softly into your neck.

As your stomach twists in arousal and nervousness, you know that the Hayato Suo who is fondling you in the parking lot against your brother's truck is a different Hayato than the one your friends interact with. 

Suo is often poised and has immense control over his emotions, but sometimes, he gets so overcome by desire that it feels like a gaseous cloud is seeping into your pores and lungs. 

You’ve become a welcome victim to the Suo that likes to grip you so desperately that he leaves bruises, bites you so hard that sometimes it breaks the skin, and fucks you so roughly that you’re confident that you’ve experienced the closest thing you can to death.  

“Suo, we shouldn’t. They saw my bruises and the hickeys. Toma might kill you.”

“You can’t convince me that this isn’t something you want. This,” he presses two fingers against the seat of your bikini, which sink into the moistness of you, “tells me otherwise.”

Your face grows hot because he’s right. You’re not innocent in your shared dynamic like Kotoha, and Hiragi would like to think—you crave him just as much as he craves you. 

You’re just as much of a thrill-seeker as he is but you two have to be quick; anyone in your group could come looking for you any second—and nothing would destroy your arousal more than Hiragi seeing your boyfriend fucking you in public. Suo would enjoy that, though. 

It’s as though he can read your mind because Suo is pulling down your bikini bottoms so that they hang around your ankles. 

His lips are on yours, his kisses somehow hungrier than his touches. Suo kisses you as though he’s found solace against the plush of your lips and the treasure housed within your mouth. He tilts his head so his tongue can explore every inch of you deeper; he’s unapologetically devouring you.

When he finally pulls away for air, his voice is low and almost gravelly, a departure from his usual calm tone.  

“You make me become the most disrespectful version of myself, Y/N.”

His fingers roll and pinch at your nipples, but his eye is on yours. His gaze is intense, and even though he looks at you as though you are his prey and he is your predator, the last thing you want to do is look away.

He continues, “I want nothing more than to be the nice, sweet boyfriend your friends and brother want me to be, but you turn me into someone I don’t recognize.”

He’s pushing his shorts down, and you groan at the sight of him. His dick sits straight up against his abdomen with a slight curve, an aggressive vein pulsates on the side, and the crimson tip of it is smeared in an ungodly amount of precum. How can such a pretty dick look so angry? 

Without much prep or warning, he pushes into your wet sex; he’s so deep so quickly that your body jerks reactively. 

He can’t hold back the moan that escapes his lips at finally burying himself in you. His mouth has found purchase against your neck; both he and you can feel your pulse quickening, firing rapidly against his tongue as it reaches out to lick at your skin. 

“When I look at you, just as you are, I want to ruin you. So if that means I’m covering you with bruises, hickeys, or the most intimate parts of me, so be it.” 

He sinks his teeth into your neck, and the sharp pain makes your eyes roll back. The searing sensation doesn't last long as his tongue laps up the droplets of blood that bubble from the punctures.  

“Tell me that you’re just as obsessed with me as I am with you,” his fingers are digging into the soft flesh of your thighs as he holds your legs around his waist, allowing him to bounce you on his cock.. 

“H-Hayato, I’m just as obsessed with you, baby. I promise.”

And you mean it. You’ve never felt a love quite so all-consuming and suffocating. He’s explored every inch of your body; at first, the way his eyes drank you in made you squirm, but he assured you that he was simply appreciating what was his—you wouldn’t fault an art curator for appraising the Mona Lisa, would you, Y/N? No? Then let me be.

Suo has licked parts of you with enthusiasm, parts that you’d be embarrassed to admit to anyone. 

And for you, the taste of him is just as nourishing. When he pulls your head back by your hair,  his hungry eye communicating to you without him having to say it, you find yourself eagerly opening your mouth and accepting his spit on your outstretched tongue. 

The good girl muttered in his smooth voice afterward, and his infamous smile that reaches his eyes when he looks at you makes your clit twitch. 

It doesn’t matter if it’s his spit, cum, or other golden liquid of his, you want it all. 

During intimacy, Suo tears you down to the most basic, hedonistic version of yourself—his delivery never includes harsh language in the traditional sense—he would absolutely never call you out of your name. You are far too important to be called something derogatory. Sometimes you’ll refer to yourself as “his whore” or “his slutty girl,” and it will make him leak so much precum he has to catch his breath, but he hasn’t reached a point in which he has personally referred to you as those titles…yet.  

For now, he uses deft fingers and honeyed words dripping in veiled threats of orgasm denial and overstimulation to push you to the precipice of your pleasure—and you trust him to build you back up afterward with softly cooed hymns of worship and strokes of your tender skin. To Suo, you are a goddess, a deity to be revered. To Suo, you are everything. 

And it isn’t until moments like this that you see his mask slip. Your usually stoic boyfriend's mouth opening and closing in pleasure the same way that yours is, soft guttural moans escaping his lips and his brow furrowing, obviously about to lose control to you—-for you.

“You are everything, dove. You are my everything.” He groans as your silky walls clench around him, clutching him for dear life.

“You like it when I compliment you, pretty girl?”

You give him a grunt of approval, feeling yourself so close to becoming undone as he fills your head up with chants of his devotion.

At this point, each thrust has his dick bottoming out into your sopping-wet cunt. Pelvis to pelvis, you can feel every inch of you stretching to accommodate him. His maroon-colored pubic hair tickles at your skin, dampening at the contact of your slick as deep thuds from frantic thrusts fill the air.

And even though you’re only participating in a quickie, a rarity for you both, your cunt still drools just the same, streaks of it managing to glide down your inner thigh and leave droplets at his feet. 

“S-suo,” your nails dig into his shoulders, resulting in a delicious hiss from his lips. “Y-you have to pull out! You aren’t wearing a c-condom!”

Suo presses his lips to your ear; you can barely make out what he’s saying over the soft gasps and the way he’s suckling at your earlobe that he has pulled between his teeth.

“I can’t. You’re mine, and I want to fill you up. So you have to take it, dove. Take all of it.” 

And the way Suo says it, you know that he isn’t asking; he’s telling you what he plans to do to your body because you are an extension of him–you are his, and it’s his right to cum in you without silly obstacles like “protection.”

His pounding against your cervix feels animalistic, and the force of him fucking you is making the truck rock back and forth. 

You bite your lip and hold onto him for dear life as that oh-so-familiar feeling takes over. Your thighs squeeze him, and to muffle the scream bubbling up into your throat, you take a note out of Suo’s handbook and bite his shoulder so hard that he sees a hot, white flash. 

In that moment, you give each other everything—all of you becomes all of him—mixing into a mess of creamy, frothy white essence that drips down balls, legs, and thighs.

Between soft kisses on the fresh hickeys and bite marks along your neck, Suo chuckles, “Hiragi is going to be upset.”

[murdrdocs]

been having a niche thought of marrying patrick sort of for the benefits and access that comes with it.

no one knows if you and patrick married for the right reasons. there were suspicions at the engagement party, jokes made by the people who knew you best. "i never thought these two would settle down, much less with each other". laughter followed, but everyone knew there was truth in the statement. why in the hell would you decide to marry patrick zweig?

love, is what you tell everyone. according to both of you, you're soulmates. and yeah, in most regards both are true. you and patrick share a love for each other. but that love is shared with others, too. you know each other better than most. but there are two others who know you both just as well. sitting at the end of the table during the engagement party. sitting just close enough to you and patrick during the wedding reception.

the donaldsons are maybe the real reason why you and patrick married. it started as a joke, really. a deluded, elaborate bit created by a drunk art (finally allowed to indulge now that he's retired) and a barely-tipsy patrick (put on a strict regimen by his new coach).

"if you two married, no one would suspect anything between us," was art's reasoning. it barely made sense to you at the time, but not much could make sense when you were struggling to stay awake, being lulled to sleep by the rumble of patrick's chest beside your ear where you lay, and the sweet waft of tashi's perfume carrying in the evening wind.

"think about it," art had continued. "people won't be suspicious over two married couples being close friends. they already probably think i'm cheating with," art slurred your name and you distantly acknowledged how nice the sound was like that. it reminded you of when he was fucked out and he called for you. "and they think tashi's cheating with you, patrick. but if you two were married..."

and art didn't have to say much else. because on a fresh mind the next morning, standing in art and tashi's kitchen, wearing patrick's shirt and waiting for freshly cooked eggs while looking at the sunspots covering art's back and shoulders, you began to understand the logic in art's argument.

married couples were friends. close friends. spend the night at the others house and hosts birthday parties for each other type of friends.

maybe that's why after that day, you and patrick started seeing just each other more. maybe that's why the two of you started dating. maybe that's why patrick took you to a nice place, had art help him set everything up, and popped the question with a ring that tashi assured him you would like. maybe it's why you went through with the wedding, why you bought a house together, why you became mrs. zweig in every sense of the title.

and truthfully, it's a nice life.

it's nice seeing patrick walk downstairs shirtless, his body on display for you to ogle. it's always been like that between you two, yes, but something's different. he has hickies on his shoulders, two from art and then one from you right beside it. there's scratches on his back from you and tashi. he's always wearing his wedding band, and the gold glints nicely against his tan skin. sometimes, you pull the ring up his lithe finger and admire the way he has a tan line now. a permanent reminder of you, even if your presence in a shared space is the same.

he looks cleaner, too, from work of you and tashi. his body a healthy mix between lean and toned. his skin glowing from the inside out. his beard shaped up nicely, a light brown that works well with the burnt orange sprinkle in his eyes. curly hair kept short, more and more greys growing day by day.

it's nice sitting in tashi and art's backyard on patio furniture the four of you had a say in, sharing drinks and old anecdotes before you all went upstairs to entangle your bodies upon the king-sized bed.

even without the legalities, you and patrick would've remained intertwined in tashi and art's lives. but it feels right like this. it feels more secure. like you're committed to each other in the same ways that you're both committed to the dolandsons.

plus, patrick seems to be more bearable as a husband than he was as a friend (the term used loosely of course).

[pursuitseternal]

Congrats on 1500 followers! Can I please play your Smut Ask game? Please? 👉👈 🫣

19. “You’re all mine” - “hm…” - “say it” - “I’m all yours.”

Ft. Astarion x Reader

“I’m all yours…”

Act 3 Astarion x Reader

CW: tooth rotting fluff, mating press, creampie

No more Underdark, no more Shadow Curse…

Sunlight once more on your skin, and Astarion couldn’t bring himself to leave it. Rivington was loud and crowded, but you don’t care. Not when you can see him smiling again now that you managed your way through the darkness of Reithwith. Back in the City….

Back into the sun.

It took some convincing, but Gale finally agreed to let you and your love take an afternoon to lose yourselves in the light.

Just a picnic, you had offered to Astarion. Well, a basket of food for you, a scroll of lesser restoration, and your neck for him.

Away from the crowds and eyes now, you spread your blanket on the grassy hill. The sun at its zenith, you can feel it tingling and burning your skin.

But Astarion craves that, you realize, as he pulls off his cream, ruffled shirt and lays at your feet in naught but his leathers. You scan him, shaking your head. That smirk on his face already tells you it won’t be long before those warm brown trousers are set aside too. He picks up the scroll to heal you and giggles. “Somebody planned for some extensive aftercare,” his smirk deepens.

You just give him a knowing smile, flounce your skirts, and settle on the blanket beside him. His fingers tease the pale pink ruffles in the hem of it. “I didn’t think you would ever wear something so… delicate. I almost don’t recognize you without a shiny, metal can on your body.” His crimson eyes rake over your form, noticeably lingering on the skin that shows— your legs beneath your skirt, your forearms that dart from the short frilled sleeves, and your bosom that bursts out the top of your bodice. “…almost,” he breathes, eyes settling on the marks that have grown on the side of your neck.

One arm extends towards you. Your heart in your throat, and down you go, already laying alongside of him, sprawling in the sun and cradled by his arm. His cool breath wafts over your neck as he nuzzles your bite scars. “I only need a taste, I swear…” comes the age old request, his little ritual of asking each time, even if the answer is always the affirmative, whispered like a prayer from your lips.

His fangs sink in slowly, his skin warmed all over by the heat and radiation of the sun. You know, as your blood runs and courses through both your bodies, you know he actually feels alive.

He wants to live, and now, he feels like it—the bloom of life within from your blood, the blazing light of the sun on his pale skin.

It doesn’t take much to coax him, just a sweep of your hand across his lower back, and he’s on top of you, sucking loudly in your ear. That ruinous body of his slots between your thighs, and now you realize just why he had teased you so often to wear a dress for once.

His lips drink you down, but his hands, those cool, featherlight hands skate up your outer thighs. The whisper thin fabric of your skirt ghosts up more and more… until he’s rucked it up around your waist.

His voice tickles your ear as he moans into your neck. “Oh… darling, I can already feel how wet you are. All this… just for me?” Fingers tease your panties, right where your dampness gathers. “Such a display of carnal lust, you wanton minx. All this is mine… you’re all mine…”

“Hmm?” You pull yourself out of your hazy cocoon of bliss and warmth, your body growing warmer and more aroused by your lover’s weight and the sun’s heat.

“Say it,” he orders, punctuating his command with a roll of his hips into your mound, even as his fingers press that damp gusset of your underthings to catch you clit.

You loll your head back to center, opening your half-lidded eyes to look up at him. Sunlight glows like a halo around his silken, silver hair, making it hard to see anything of his face than the gleaming crimson of his eyes. Your answer bubbles to your tongue as you lift your hips. “I’m yours, all yours,” you breathe.

“If that doesn’t just warm my undead heart,” he purrs. “How about a treat for my treat… it is a summer picnic after all…”

His mouth presses sweetly and softly against your lips. Wet and insistent, his tongue presses between your lips, and you let him in. He squishes your breasts as he shifts his weight, his hands hurrying to free his cock as he just lowers his leathers enough. That warmed, blunt cock head teases your entrance, your panties barely a barrier between you; and it’s one he so easily conquers with a slight tug of his finger.

“There we go,” he purrs as inch by inch he fills you. He’s slow and tender, working inside you with gentle rolls of his hips. All is warm and heavy, full and undulating. His mouth is locked to yours, his cock buried deep in your sex. And you have to keep your eyes closed, the light of the sun almost as blinding as how brightly he burns for you.

Drowning in the rhythm of his fucking, you are swept further into your bliss with every roll of his hips. His cock, thick and perfect, drags across every inch of your cunt, catching those places that make your spine arch and your belly coil with heat. Hot within, hot without. He presses his heavy frame into you, driving you into the blanket and dirt. He groans in your mouth, the metallic taste of your blood still strong on his tongue. Wave after consuming wave, his thrusts snap against you, that addictive flesh-slapping sound muffled by your simple skirts. He grins, lifting your thighs to press them to your chest. Your cunt bare to the light and revealed to the sun, now his thrusts echo in your ear and down your spine.

He floods you with pleasure, all your skin exposed for his touch. His thrusts grow erratic, his breathing against your flesh ragged. He’s near, so near… just a little more and you know he will tingle with pleasure in his balls and warm with bliss from the inside out.

A roar in your ear, and he fills you, coating you with cum deep inside your cunt. It’s enough to make you tremble and cling, to buck and writhe as your match him in his climax.

Hot all over. And just as loved.

Your hands trace the scars on his back, thier rises and ridges familiar by heart. But for now, his skin’s heat matches the afterglow of that slow-rolling passionate love making.

He’s warm and sweet, mischievous and cunning…. And he’s all yours.

Smut Ask List | Astarion Masterlist

[everyonewooeverywhere]

MDNI 18+ BLOG -> ageless blogs and minors WILL BE BLOCKED

pairing ✭ guitarist!hongjoong x f!reader

synopsis ✭ guitarist hongjoong fucks you in your hotel room

content/genre ✭ smut 18+ MDNI

word count ✭ 1.7k

warnings: smut, oral sex (f receiving), fingering

✭✭✭✭

Life on tour for Hongjoong was so much easier when he knew his baby in the crowd cheering him on. It was so much easier to show off to a crowd screaming his name, when he knew you were out there, too, watching him perform. He wanted to bring you up there with him, put you on display for all of the fans to see. He wanted them to see his girl. The only one he ever needed to scream his name.

He couldn’t do that of course, because your relationship was a well kept secret between the two of you. No one knew what happened between the two of you backstage after every show. No one knew of the way you snuck into his hotel room every night and left in the early hours of the morning to avoid being caught.

Why? Because you were the frontman’s little sister, and, if Seonghwa ever found out what the two of you got up to, he’d probably end up with a broken nose, no job and Ateez would need a new guitarist.

It wasn’t necessarily that your brother didn’t approve of you dating, but he made it abundantly clear that his bandmates were completely off limits. Of course, following the rules was never any fun.

Which is why when you got a call from Hongjoong at 2 in the morning, you were immediate with your pick up. Grabbing your phone off the nightstand in your hotel room. Falling back into your sheets. 

“Hey, baby,” he rasped out, voice tired from performing and partying subsequently. A party which you skipped out on, hoping to clean yourself up before you got this inevitable call. “I’m back at the hotel, can I swing by your room?”

“Hmm, I don’t know…” you teased, and he could hear the smirk in your voice. “I’m kind of tired.”

“Too bad, sweetheart, I’m outside your door.” You jumped out of bed at that announcement. Discarding your phone on the bed. 

You gave yourself a once over in the mirror. Admiring the reflection of you wearing nothing more than an Ateez band tee and a pair of painties.

You only cracked the door a little bit, but he pushed into the room immediately at the sight of you. No words were exchanged before he backed you up against the same door, one arm over your head one around your waist. 

When you slid your hands up to the collar of his jacket, he let you pull him down to your lips. It was a hungry kiss. Making up for the lost time of not being able to kiss you on stage. Not being able to go down on you backstage before every concert. Not being able to bend you over the sink in some random bar take you from behind.

Though, that last one had happened before, but your brother had almost walked in on it. And you had to hide in a gross stall until he left.

His lips were slightly chapped, but you couldn’t care less because he was so close to you. He smelled faintly of alcohol but he didn’t taste like it so you could tell he hadn’t been drinking. Something you appreciated because it meant he had full control of himself when he hiked up one of your legs and gripped your thigh.

The whimper you let out when he rolled his hips into your clothed heat drove him crazy. When he finally pulled away from your lips, they were puffy and your hair was scattered from his hand in it. 

“Hello to you too,” you breathed out. 

He chuckled, and kissed down from your neck to your collarbone. It took everything in him not to mark up every inch of your neck. He’d just have to wait until he could leave one somewhere less visible. 

“You did good tonight,” you tangled a hand in his blonde hair. “I love watching you play.” You sighed as his hands slipped up your shirt. Thumbs softly caressing the skin under your breasts. 

“Yeah?” he met your gaze, “you have no idea how much I love knowing you’re in the crowd cheering for me. Especially in your skimpy little outfits.”

“I wear them for you,” that was the truth. You knew that he always went crazy for your tiny skirts and ripped tights. 

He pulled your shirt over your head. Leaving you just in your lacy black panties. He took a step back but kept a hold of your waist, “fuck, baby…you’re so fucking beautiful. You know that right?”

He gave you no time to respond, though because he was immediately on his knees. 

“Joong,” you moaned when he kissed your pussy over your panties, gently biting the fabric, “I have a bed.”

He left a kiss on your thigh, “we’ll get there. Just let me take care of you here, okay?”

He slid your bottoms down your legs and let you step out of them before throwing them behind him. As a man of his word, he took care of you. Not wasting any time at all. 

He licked a stripe through your folds before finding your clit and sucking on it. Hard. You cried out and gripped his hair. 

When his tongue pushed into you, you rolled your hips over his face, clit brushing his nose. “Joongie, oh fuck, Joo—,” you tried desperately to get your words out but coherent sentences were beyond impossible at this point. He’d brought his thumb up to your clit. 

He felt so good. Every move he made was so calculated and executed to give you the most pleasure. And it paid off because you were practically screaming his name. Every whimper and moan built up his confidence. Making him work harder and faster to please you with his mouth.

He moved his mouth back to your clit so he could push his fingers into you. God his fingers could send you to hell and back on their own. That was the reason you really liked to watch him play. Every time you saw him brush his fingers over the strings, you imagined them gripping your hair, pinching your nipples and fucking your needy cunt like they were doing now.

“Oh you’re so close. Aren’t you, angel?”

“Mhmm, yeahhhh,” you cried out, “I’m so close baby, please don’t stop!”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Oh my—hah, fucking hell! I’m coming!” he groaned into your cunt as you finished all over his face. He took so much pleasure in licking you clean. Lapping at your both your thighs and the pussy he just fucked with his mouth and fingers.

When he stood back up, you were quick to grab at the jacket he still hadn’t taken off and to pull his shirt over his head. He kissed you again, and you could taste yourself on him. 

“You taste so fucking good, baby. I could do that for hours.” 

You pushed him back toward the bed in the middle of the room, “maybe another time. I really need you to fuck me right now, though.”

He chuckled and pulled you back towards the bed with him, “my baby’s so greedy. You can never get enough can you?”

✭✭✭✭

In his naked glory, he leaned back against the headboard. You crawled to him over top of the sheets and straddled his waist. He groaned when you grabbed his cock and slipped a condom from your purse onto it. Spitting in your hand and pumping it a couple times. 

“Baby, I’m gonna need you to hurry up,” he grunted when you slid over his length covering him in a mix of your own mess and his own spit from earlier. 

You positioned his tip at your entrance, and slowly teased it in. The moan you let out as you sunk down on his length almost made Hongjoong finish right then and there.

Everything was so fucking perfect. The way you looked at him through half-closed eyes. Fully engulfed in the pleasure he gave you. How your skin glowed because of your sweat and the low lighting of your hotel room. And your voice. God your voice. The alluring nature in which you cried out for him. Begging him to take you to your peak.

“Fu—” you threw your head back, “oh Joongie you're so big.”

“God, angel, your so fucking tight,” he grunted, “this needy little cunt is always so good to me.”

When you started to move yourself, he lost it. Gripping your hips and thrusting up into you over and over and over again. You had one hand tangled in his hair and one gripping at your own breast. Pinching the nipple and rolling it through your fingers. 

“Oh baby, God,” he groaned in your ear, “keep going.”

You moaned, “oh my god! Oh, oh–. Fuck, I’m close!”

As if on cue, he thrust up into you one last time and finished into the condom. He pulled out of you but kept a finger on your clit. Working at it so fast that your vision began to fog. 

“There! Oh my–,” you whimpered, “fucking hell!”

You reached your climax all over his hand.

Nothing could hold you back from collapsing in his chest. Your own chest heaving along with his. He ran his hand over your hair, “you good baby?”

“Mhm,” you sighed into his chest.

He sat up after a couple minutes, “let’s get cleaned up, ok?”

✭✭✭✭

In the warm water of the shower, he helped you wash your back. Massaging the hotel body wash into your skin and rinsing it off with the shower head. His fingers scratching at your scalp as he washed your hair was an incredible feeling. Especially when he leaned in to kiss your wet shoulders when the soap was cleared.

When you turned around to face him, you brushed a hand through his wet, blond hair.  “Do you wanna stay here tonight?” You asked him.

“Of course, baby,” he kissed you, “just let me go change.”

He grabbed a robe and wrapped it around himself. As he dried off his hair with a towel and slid into a pair of the hotel’s slippers, he reached for his phone which was discarded on your floor along with his clothes.

He was shocked to see he had 6 missed calls. All from your brother.

Shit. He ran hand through his hair.

There was a knock at the door.

Hongjoong looked down at his phone again when it buzzed. 

seonghwa: i know you’re in there open the fucking door.

Well fuck. 

✭✭✭✭

thank you for reading!! this one took a bit because i had an essay due this week. and i started crocheting a sweater and that's all i felt motivated to do in my free time 😅

anyways, if you are interested in joining my taglist you can now do so here, and my requests are now open if you feel so inclined.

as always, reblog, comment or message me to let me know what you thought! love you all 😙🫶💗

mwah~

[tinydefector]

Transformers reacting to Nipple piercings

Characters: Mtmte Rodimus, ROFB Mirage, TFP Knockout

Warnings: slight nsfw, oral fixation, nipple piercings, hinted smut, piercing care.

If people enjoy this series I might make some others.

Word count 3K

Request and ask open, read pinned post

Masterlist

Rodimus masterlist

Knockout Masterlist

Mirage Masterlist

_______________

Rodimus

They couldn't sit still. The fabric of their shirt continued to rub against their skin in an unpleasant manner, ignoring it was the only option at that moment. They sat on Rodimus' desk helping him with reports. "How's your report going Rodimus?" They ask while trying to get in a more comfortable position.

Rodimus sighed in frustration as he reviewed the long list of maintenance reports in need of sign-off. "Not great," he replied. "There always seems to be more work to do than cycles in a solar cycle. I don't know how Megatron keeps up with it all. or how Ultra Magnus can write so much" He offers a rueful smile. "Thanks for helping me plough through these. It's much more bearable with help and company."

Taking note of the fidgeting, Rodimus asked gently, "Is your plating bothering you? I wish we had better abrasives to smooth the rough spots. Being cooped up inside the Lost Light so much can't be easy on your systems." His optics shone with compassion for his human friend's discomfort.

"It's called a shirt Rods, humans wear them kinda like how you bots have plating over your body, And no the fabric is just irritating my skin today, keeps catching on my piercings" they mumble the last part to themself.

A curious look came over Rodimus's face. "Piercings? What in the Pits are those?" he asked.

"They are little decorative pieces of metal we have put through our skin. Some we wear in our ears, nose, lips, eyebrows, it's a little bit of a painful process but they are pretty" they explained.

Rodimus nodded thoughtfully at further explanation on human piercings. "I can see the appeal of adornments, even if the application sounds rather narely," he said. Furrowing his optics, Rodimus peered more closely at their frame. "Hmm, if they're meant to be visible decorations, then why can't I see any of you now?" he wondered aloud. "Are they retractable like transformation seams? Or is human flesh somehow capable of covering them up? Your species never ceases to perplex me with your biological quirks and tricks."

They laugh loudly before wincing slightly. "They aren't always on display, but no we can't retract them but we can take them out. Mine are just under the shirt is all. And feel rather tender at the moment"

"So they come out, huh?" Rodimus responded thoughtfully. Curiosity piqued, he asked, "Do you have them on you now under the shirt? Can I see? Do they have lights or are they just metal?."

He tilted his head inquisitively. "Fleshly adornments are such an alien concept to me." Pausing, Rodimus added excitedly.

With a small shake of their head in amusement at Rodimus' curiosity they speak again. "Sure I'll let you have a look." They are quick to discard their shirt sitting there so Rodimus can look. Each nipple has a bar though it with a little ball at each end. Rodimus is overly eager to touch and inspect.

Careful with his touches, Rodimus leaned in slowly for a closer look. "Fascinating," he murmured, optics shining with wonder at the novel modifications. Up close, he was even more intrigued by the symmetrical placements and elegant simplicity of the adornments. Softly, as if handling something incredibly fragile, Rodimus raised a finger and ghosted it above one glistening bar, mesmerised by the contrast of cool metal against warm flesh.

Servo hovering, as always mindful of organic delicacy. Rodimus barely grazed the ball end with his fingertip, amazed by its give underneath hard plating. Cybertronian armour was rigid and unyielding; sensitive inner workings always shielded. He had much to learn about life beyond his kind.

a soft gasp leaves their lips as Rodimus' digit graze against their chest. The piercings themselves were still rather tender, but the soft touch of cold metal against them left goose bumps across skin, they relaxed into the touch. Both their works are forgotten.

Rodimus noted the soft intake of air and sensations rendering their plating sensitive. "My apologies, I didn't mean to make it hurt," he said gently. When they relaxed into his feather-light touch, seemingly soothed rather than aggravated, Rodimus felt his curiosity heightening. The smooth textures and varied temperatures called out to his sensor net to further discern material properties through all means available.

Leaning closer still, Rodimus let his optics dim and his glossa slowly extended, barely brushing one adornment in a tactile sampling. Cool and slick, it traced intricate shapes with an elegance beyond his plated appendages alone.

eyes shoot open wide as they feel the cool touch of Rodimus glossa against the flushed skin, biting back a moan at the pleasant sensation. "Having fun?" They asked in a teasing tone, not stopping the bot from exploring, enjoying the feeling of Rodimus' glossa.

"Frag, sorry, curiosity tends to get the better of me," Rodimus replied lightly, though his field betrayed growing enthusiasm.

He held their gaze, optics half-shuttered, as his glossa traced delicate circles, learning every contour. Something in the way pleased noises were stifled stirred Rodimus's core, spurring his exploration ever onward in a dance of discovery.

Soft ex-vents ghosted warmly over newly sensitised skin, it prickles with more goosebumps as the air brushes the areas he had run his glossa across. eliciting subtle tremors that Rodimus felt to his struts.

They gasp and moan softly as Rodimus softly sucks on the tender skin. "Fuck Rodimus feels good" The young human arches into the touch as Rodimus' other servo slowly teases the other nipple.

Tracing lower, Rodimus' glossa circled delicately, tasting the sweet warmth of their skin through every sensor. His free servo rolled the other nub skillfully, marvelling at how small fluctuations elicited outsized effects.

Ventilation hitched as strange new feelings rose in Rodimus's spark. He focused on their pleasure, marvelling at them. slowly they pull Rodimus back, breathing slightly heavy from the experience. "I think that's enough exploring for one day Roddy, we still have reports to finish"

Rodimus loathes having to release the soft nipple from his intake, it makes Rodimus Rodimus rumbled apologetically as duty calls them back to boring reports. Yet parting from sweet flesh proved unexpectedly difficult after such revelation of how it tasted, It's addictive.

"Just a moment more," he pleaded between languid sucks, unable to relinquish the heady sensations. Never had something like this tempted him so much.

Mirage

Mirage had caught a glimpse of the piercings a few times. Mainly when he had been intimate with his lover, the small metal bars thought their nipples had never escaped his processor, But as they sat together a question lingers on mirages mind. What were they? 

"Raj can you grab me a tarp, gonna need it when I do this oil change on This car" they call out. 

 Mirage processes the request, grabs one of the tarps from the storage area and brings it over to where his friend is working on the vehicle. He sets it down nearby so it's ready when needed.  

"Here is the tarp. So..."  he thinks back to the memory files of their intimate moments together  "I have been curious about those things in your chest. On your nipples specifically. What made you decide to get those? Just something you found aesthetically pleasing? Or is there another reason behind it?" 

"My piercings?, I got them as a dare a while back, hurt like a bitch getting them done but I don't really mind them now, until they get stuck on things then they burn, mainly keep them in because I like them" they explain as they move around getting set up to do the oil filter change. Bucket set up under the car. 

 Mirage listens to the explanation with interest, tilting his head slightly as he processes the words. A playful smirk spreads across his faceplates as his friend mentions the piercings occasionally getting stuck on things.  

"Is that so? Well I can understand the appeal of a dare, though personally I think I'm too clever to ever get myself into such a predicament."  He chuckles cockily, exuding an air of lighthearted smugness.  

"As for liking how they look, I have to agree they do add a certain... aesthetic flair"  His optics briefly glance over their body in a subtle once-over before meeting their gaze again with a grin.  

"Just be sure not to let those piercings of yours get snagged on any wiring or plating during that oil change. Wouldn't want anything... sticking unexpectedly."  He waggles his optical ridges suggestively.  

"Let me know if you need an extra set of hands though. Wouldn't want an... accident to occur down there."  Mirage offers his assistance in a playfully teasing tone, enjoying the back-and-forth banter as usual. 

"Raj! Please, I'm working here! Perv" They call out swatting the bots hand away. They focus in on the car they are under. "Can you pass me the 10mm socket wrench" the call out while setting up their small touch to see.

 Mirage chuckles good-naturedly at getting swatted away.  "Ah, you know you love it when I tease,"  he says lightheartedly.  

Making an exaggerated show of pretending to pout with downturned optical ridges and a small smirk, Mirage turns towards the tool cart. "Alright alright, no more distractions while you work." 

He rummages around briefly before producing the requested 10mm socket wrench. Mirage saunters back over and holds it down for his friend, lover? to take it easily.  

 Settling back against the wall again, Mirage watches them get to work on the vehicle, angling his helm thoughtfully.  "You know, you perform repairs so dexterously." He teases 

They work quickly with undoing the oil cap to drain it. But when they lose grip on the small screw they curse. Oil spilling out quicker than expected. "Son of a bitch!" They hiss. Moving quickly after getting oil spilt over them. It makes mirage chuckle in amusement.

 Mirage can't help but chuckle in mild amusement as he watches the spat of unintentional spillage. "Well well, looks like someone needs to tighten their grip,"  he quips lightheartedly, unable to resist the playful jab.  

They roll out from under the car, oil covering them, they grumble trying to get the shocked shirt off before more of it could get on their skin or in their hair. And there they are on display again, those nipple piercings mirage liked so much, oil and grease lingering on the skin

 Mirage's attention is immediately drawn to the piercings on display as his friend struggles to remove their shirt. His engine emits a subtle purr at the tantalising sight, optics roving appreciatively over the grease-stained form before him. 

"Well well, what have we here?"  he speaks in a low, smug tone, cocky attitude radiating off him in waves.  "It seems our little spill has left quite the...messy situation." 

 His gaze subtly lingers on the piercings, glistening with oil, before trailing back up slowly to meet thier eyes. A grin plays across his faceplates, brimming with self-assured confidence.  

"Need a hand cleaning all that grim off? I'd be happy to...lend a digit or two. And perhaps a glossa too, if you'd like - can't have precious jewellery like that staying filthy now, can we?"  

 He steps closer, fuel pump thrumming in approval at the enticing view. Mirage oozes smug charm, revelling in the alluring scenario before him.  "What do you say...care for some assistance?"

"God you're a nuisance " the huff, but let mirage continue with his antics. Mirage lets out a playful chuckle at his friend's exasperated remark.  

"A nuisance, am I? You wound me so."  He clasps a hand dramatically over his spark, optics swirling with mirthful mischief.  

"But you haven't said no yet..."  Mirage points out, emboldened by the lack of outright refusal.  

Stepping closer still so they're mere inches apart, he levels his friend with a gaze of smouldering intent, laughter fading to a flirtatious smirk.  

"Come now, we both know you enjoy my particular brand of...nuisance. And I do so want to help clean you up properly."  His field pulses with suggestive magnetism as nimble digits reach out to gently brush over their exposed skin in a teasing caress. 

"Unless...you'd really rather I leave you to your grimy predicament?"  Mirage whispers huskily. 

"Get me a towel, Raj, then I'll think about it," they state, standing there with a smile as they wait for him to grab a towel.

"As you wish."  Mirage's engine rumbles with delighted intrigue as he accepts the challenge. 

Whirling on his heelstrut with a flourish, Mirage makes his way towards the storage closet at a leisurely stroll. Rummaging briefly, he selects one of the largest, grease towels.

Returning to his still-grease-laden friend, Mirage holds out the towel with an elegant flourish and a sly smirk. "Well? Have I earned the privilege of assisting further?"  he inquires softly, 

"Say the word, and I'll gladly help..."

"Trying to get in my pants again?" They ask teasingly before leaning back into the bot's touch, letting mirage help clean up the mess. Mirage chuckles low in his throat at the playful accusation, a hint of arousal mixing in with their humour.  

"Guilty as charged."  He flashes a roguish grin, azure optics dancing with mischief and desire.  

"Can you blame me, though?" Holding their teasing gaze, Mirage leans in to press a kiss to their cheek, his cooling ex-vents puffing against plating still warm from work. "How could I resist such beauty, even coated in oil?" 

Knockout

Knockout smirked as he leaned against the medical table, crossing his arms over his chassis. "Well, well, well, if it isn't my favourite lovely little human in distress," he purred, his voice dripping with charm. " I'd ask what trouble you have gotten yourself into, but where's the fun in that? I'd much rather tease you a bit first."

He sauntered closer, his optics lingering "Now, how did this happen, darling? Neglecting proper care for these delicate human chest adornments? It's a shame, I happen to rather enjoy your little jewellery pieces" he chuckled, his tone laced with amusement.

They don't look impressed, looking away when knockout asks how it happened. "Went out on a mission ended up in mud and now they hurt '' they hiss under their breath. "Knockout please I just need some help. I'm not embarrassing myself by going to ask ratchet for help!" They hissed.

Knockout raised an optic ridge, slightly taken aback by the lack of enthusiasm from the human. He couldn't resist a chuckle at their stubbornness. "Oh, darling, you wound me," he replied, feigning a hurt expression. "But fear not, for I am here to help. No need to embarrass yourself."

They continue sitting there uncomfortably while knockout moves around grabbing what he needed. Knockout sets up a dish of salty water with a cloth. His optics flickered with focus as he set up the necessary supplies, preparing to tend to the infected piercings. He approached the human with a suave yet professional air, gesturing for them to remove their shirt so he could properly examine and treat the area.

"Now, now, don't be shy," he said smoothly, his voice laced with a hint of playfulness. "We've got to get a good look at those piercings if we want to fix them up, don't we?"

As the human complied, Knockout dipped the cloth into the dish of salty water, ensuring it was properly soaked. With a gentle touch, he began to clean the infected piercings, his movements precise and careful. "Try to relax," he advised with a soft, soothing tone. "I know it stings a bit, but trust me, you'll feel much better once we've taken care of this."

He continued to work, his optics focused on the task at hand, all the while maintaining a charming demeanour. Knockout couldn't help but let a small smile play on his lips as he worked his medic magic, determined to alleviate the human's discomfort and make them forget their initial reservations about seeking his help.

They sit there quietly avoiding knockouts gaze, as the medic continues cleaning the inflamed piercings. Knockout couldn't help but notice the human's avoidance of his gaze, their quietness speaking volumes. He continued to clean the inflamed piercings with utmost care, his touch gentle and precise. As he worked, he couldn't resist a small sigh, his usual charm momentarily fading.

"Look, I know I can come across a bit... overwhelming," he admitted, his voice softening. "But I want you to know that I genuinely care about your well-being. I may be a Decepticon, but that doesn't mean I can't be a good medic, and primus knows im not letting an infection get you my dear"

With a final, gentle touch, Knockout finished cleaning the piercings and set aside the cloth. He reached for the disinfectant and carefully applied it to the affected area, his movements slow and deliberate.

"Just a little more, and then we'll be done," he assured, his voice filled with sincerity. "You'll be feeling better in no time, I promise."

"Thanks and please don't tell everyone, don't need the whole base knowing about this" they state while motioning to the piercings.

Knockout flashed a charming smile as he applied the cream to alleviate the inflammation around the piercings. "Your secret is safe with me, my dear," he assured, his voice filled with sincerity. "As much as I enjoy a bit of gossip, I understand the importance of privacy, especially when it comes to matters like these."

He leaned in closer, his optics gleaming mischievously. "But remember, secrets have their price," he teased playfully. "Perhaps a dance or a playful conversation in the future can serve as payment for my discretion."

Straightening up, Knockout took a step back, admiring his handiwork. "There you go, all taken care of," he said, his tone gentle. "Just remember to keep an eye on them and follow the aftercare instructions I've given you. If there are any issues or if they don't improve, don't hesitate to come see me."

"I will thank you again, and I might give you that dance once they heal, but don't expect anything" they reply while pulling on their shirt again.

Knockout chuckled, his optics gleaming with amusement. "Oh, I wouldn't dream of expecting anything more than a dance, my dear," he replied with a sly smirk. "But who knows? Sometimes, unexpected connections can be quite delightful."

He watched as they pulled on their shirts, "When those piercings have fully healed, you know where to find me," he said, his voice filled with a mix of charm and sincerity. "I'd be more than happy to share a dance with you, no strings attached."

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Chapter 16 - Let It Flood

Series Masterlist

Author's Note: This feels like a good time to tell you guys we’re only halfway done and that I pinky promise there’s a happy ending.  Chapter Title from Foundations of Decay by My Chemical Romance

Word Count: 22k

Chapter Summary/Warnings: It's time. Usual Warnings, with big smut and bigger angst.

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, canon divergence, enemies to friends to lovers, canon divergence, slow burn, fluff, heavy angst, smut, pining

Read on A03!

Chapter 15 - Chapter 17

“What about Paris?” 

She leaned around the bathroom door to frown at Ben, toothbrush muffling her words. “What about Paris?”

“For where they ship us off to after this shit.” Ben glanced down at his phone, displaying a generically fucking boring postcard picture of the Eiffel tower. “It’s full of fucking art and shit.” She loved stupid fucking art and shit.

“I don’t think they’re going to let us choose where we go, Ben.” She wrinkled her nose at him. “And you’d hate Paris. You hate France.”

Ben scowled. “It’s a stupid, useless, cowardly country full of-“

“Fucking pussies,” She smiled at him—so bright and happy—and Ben couldn’t bring himself to do more than roll his eyes at her dogshit impression of him. “I don’t think you’d make it a week in Paris. Someone would offer you food and you’d try to kill them.”

“What about,” Ben glanced at the next recommendation on the Ten Best Romantic Vacation Cities list he’d found online. It wasn’t total fucking shit, even if the website kept trying to tell him the Ten Best Ways to Use a Vibrator with a Partner. He’d save that tab for later. “Havana?”

“Cuba has a strained relationship with the CIA.” She shrugged. “I don’t think they’d agree to take us in.”

“Hawaii?”

“Well, I’d be fine with Hawaii, but I don’t think you would.” She retreated back into the bathroom, and Ben frowned.

“I’d fucking love Hawaii. It would be full of damn beaches to fuck on-”

“No,” She reappeared, walking over to stand between Ben’s legs. Looking so fucking perfect there—wearing his shirt and hair still messy from his hands and holding his face between her palms—that Ben almost missed what she was saying. “They wouldn’t put us in a resort, they’d put us in a town. Probably away from the beach, definitely without the infrastructure it should have. Just a real bummer of human rights. You’d hate it.”

She said those last words so simply that all the fancy, brainy shit she’d been telling Ben felt pointless. She thought he’d hate it, and she was always fucking right, and was smiling down at him with so much adoration on Her face that—even if she was somehow wrong—Ben was now certain he’d hate it.

“Fine,” he grunted, dropping his phone to his lap and tugging Her further forward with hands on the back of her thighs. “Where the hell would you want to go, if you’re so fucking smart.”

She was so fucking smart. And She knew it, because she was grinning when she said, “Rome.”

“Rome?” 

“It has a bunch of art and history and culture for me, and some very good fucking food for you. Plus, everyone there is stupid hot.”

Ben winked at Her. “You’re stupid hot enough to power a country, beautiful. I don’t need anyone else.”

“Thanks,” She mumbled, looking very firmly away from Ben as her face flushed that pretty fucking color. “But I was talking about for our escort business.” 

“And that’s why you’re the damn brains.” Ben rubbed circles on Her skin, and she fell a little further into him, hands tightening on his face. “Always fucking planning. We’re going to need to find some people half as damn hot as we are, because we’re only fucking each other.”

She scoffed, and Ben thought Her heart might beat right out of her chest. “How sweet of you, to keep your dick in your pants at even the prospect of money.”

“We’ll earn plenty of goddamn money. My dick is yours, Sunshine.” 

She hummed, and her hands started to play with Ben’s hair in a way that made him feel like a goddamn puppy. What was worse was that it felt fucking good. Her perfect fucking hands, touching him because she wanted to, because she liked touching him. “Even if someone offered ten million dollars?” 

“Yours.”

“That’s financially irresponsible.” She mumbled, still incredibly fucking determined to not meet his eyes. “We could buy a house with that money.” 

“If I was offering my dick for money,” Ben drawled. “We could buy a fucking island. But it’s yours,” he said Her name firmly, and she glanced at him with wide eyes. “So get damn used to chasing customers off.” 

“Chasing customers off?” 

“I’m going to have to do it for you,” he grinned at Her. “Fucking pussies who think they can fuck you the way I will.” 

She stuck her tongue out at him, but Ben didn’t miss the smile she was failing to fight. “Horny fucking cunt.” 

That was enough. Just that was a good enough reason for Ben to pull Her all the way into his lap, let her straddle his thigh, and silence her small sound of surprise with his mouth. For Ben to tug and touch Her skin in time with all the ways he’d learned to play her mouth until she was limp and moaning against him. Until he could bite Her lower lip and trace his hand along her spine and she’d throw back her head and arch against his hand. Until Ben could suck that spot on her throat and trace a hand across her ribs as she’d start grinding down onto him. 

“Ben-“ 

“Horny fucking cunt,” he echoed Her words against Her skin. “Your horny fucking cunt goddamn wants my dick, doesn’t it? Brat.” 

“Fuck you,” Her words were said through gasps, hands clawed and scraping at Ben’s scalp, and he chuckled.

“Afraid that’s not on the table right now, beautiful.” He pulled back to grin at Her. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t do anything about how fucking wet you are.” 

She whined something that might have been a plea, might have been a curse or vulgar phrase aimed at Ben, or might have been just one of the many pretty fucking sounds she made, but it all would’ve achieved this same effect. She was needy, She wanted Ben, and she was trying to fuck his thigh. Rolling her hips on it desperately, trying to chase relief against him. Making smaller, more desperate noises every time Ben’s hands brushed against her tits, every time his teeth or tongue found a new place to worship her skin. 

This was all they could do right now, and fuck it was torture. It was so goddamn painful to have Her grabbing at him and moaning and saying his name in that perfect fucking way—pleading and adoring in Her breathless voice—and not just be able to fuck Her. To know he had to goddamn wait another day, to feel his pants become tight like they had before and force himself to hold off when She wanted him to fuck Her. She wanted him. He had been given the image of Her slight drool when she’d jerked him off and knew she would look at him like that again. Look at him with more fucking care and want, because Ben would fuck Her until she wouldn’t ever think another weak fucking asshole could fuck her like she deserved. He’d fucking ruin Her. He’d have Her bounce on his cock like she was bouncing on his leg, and he would make her feel so fucking good. Make him worth something to Her, one fucking thing that nobody else would be able to give her.

Ben pulled back for a second, needing to just fucking see Her. See how fucking beautiful she was, wanting him, get a goddamn glimpse of how it would look when she rode his dick instead of his thigh. He’d never seen anything better. He’d seen mountains and waterfalls and the goddamn Northern Lights and they might as well have been fucking dumpster fires and car crashes compared to this. If anything, the car crash would be the only half-worthy comparison. Because She was destroying herself against Ben, staring at him with dazed, pretty fucking eyes, and all the bliss and pleasure on her face was from Ben. He was doing this to Her.

And he couldn’t look away if he tried. 

She’d made a small whine when Ben had pulled away from her throat—pushing down on him harder and hand scraping along the nape of his neck—but he pressed his head against hers and She moaned. 

“Ben, please-“

“So fucking good,” he growled, and She moaned again. “You want to cum, beautiful?” 

She nodded. “Yes.” 

“Beg.” 

“Fucking ass-“ She leaned forward, trying to capture Ben’s lips against hers. “Ben.” 

“I need you to fucking beg,” he kissed all across Her face, everywhere he could without bringing her any closer to the edge. “You want your horny fucking cunt to cum, then beg.”

“Please,” She was smoking. Her skin wasn’t growing warmer, but a glowing smoke was clouding the room as she tried to pull Ben closer. “Fucking please, Ben-“

He kissed Her, and she screamed into his mouth, clawing at his hair and skin. Bucking off his leg so that Ben had to grab Her hips and keep her still, had keep her from continuing to bump against him because he’d cum in his fucking pants. He had to pull himself the fuck together, he wasn’t a goddamn virgin pussy, but fuck She was so perfect. Ben might have almost cum just when She’d smiled at him, standing between his legs and touching him so easily.

As Ben looked at Her come down—beautiful and perfect and torn apart all over him—and she looked at Ben like he’d seen her look at the city skyline from the window, with the face she had when she listened to a song she loved. The Thing became painful. It had been trying to tell him something. Since the night before it had stopped trying to remind Ben how perfect She was, stopped trying to push him into her. Ben was well fucking aware how perfect She was. And since he’d crashed into Her there wasn’t a goddamn chance he was going to pull away.

So now the Thing was trying to tell him something. On repeat over twelve hours it had been rioting in Ben, trying to tell him something so fucking important. Something critical, that he needed to know so She could know as well.

And when She started to slide off of Ben—falling to her knees before him—the Thing felt like it might tear him apart.

“Hi,” She smiled at him, face so fucking bright and happy. Looking at Ben like he was everything.

He was. To Her, he was fucking everything. And weaker men than Ben would’ve cum just from Her saying that. Weaker men wouldn’t fucking survive Her. She’d look at them with sharp, infinite amusement on her beautiful face and fight with them over nothing and they’d simply goddamn die because fuck she was perfect. But She wouldn’t look at them like this. Like they were everything. That was—by some fucking grace of a god Ben was starting to be indebted to—a look She reserved for him. With adoration and care and something that was alive and powerful sitting deep in Her perfect eyes. Thank fuck Ben wasn’t a weaker man. He’d have never earned Her, on her knees before him with her hands on his thighs. He still hadn’t earned Her, but fuck him if he wasn’t going to dedicated the rest of his goddamn life to trying to. To showing Her that he was worthy of her looking at him like that, that he could keep up with her and protect her and-

Ben grunted Her name, because her hand was starting to trail up his leg and any and all thoughts were becoming just Her. “What are you doing.”

“Being an altruist,” She hummed, palm resting over Ben’s fully hard cock, still fucking smiling. “Giving back.”

“Sunshine-“ Ben cut himself off with a hiss, because she just fucking squeezed him. Her heart was stuttering around inside her, but Ben couldn’t tell if it was from desire. He didn’t need, didn’t want, Her to do this because she thought she had to. It had to be from desire. He wasn’t fucking Homelander. If She touched him, he needed her to need it. To want him. It wouldn’t mean a goddamn thing if she didn’t. If She touched Ben without looking at him like he was everything. “If you don’t want to-“

“I want to,” Her answer was fast, a little too fast, and Ben smirked. There it was.

“You want to?” He drawled, leaning over her, tilting her chin between his fingers. “How bad do you want to suck my dick, beautiful?”

“Bad,” She whispered. “But less and less by the second.”

Ben snorted. “Smartass.”

“Do you want me to suck your dick?” She blinked up at him, voice a little softer. “It’s just an offer, you don’t have to take it-“

Ben pulled Her face up between his hands, kissing her until her words name needy sounds and she was grabbing at his arms. When he was satisfied with the way she was moaning, Ben lowered her back down between his legs and grunted her name. “If I ever tell you not to suck my dick, fucking shoot me.”

“Yeah,” She nodded, glancing down at the outline of Ben’s cock, pushing against his pants that were still fucking on for some reason. “Okay.”

He muttered Her name, and she looked back up at him. “How much work do you want to do?”

She didn’t answer. She just started moving, pulling Ben’s pants down and taking him in her hand so quickly Ben would’ve thought she’d practiced. Stroking him once, twice, a third time, looking at his cock with pretty, lust-clouded eyes. Ben twitched in Her hand, and had to force himself not to rut into her, to just groan as Her thumb ran over the angry, red head of his cock. His job was just to watch Her—how she was so fully entranced in fucking torturing him—and let her do what she wanted. But it wasn’t fucking easy, not when she was so fucking beautiful, not when Her mouth was hanging slightly open and Ben didn’t think he could wait another second not being at least somewhat inside of Her.

Thank fucking hell and heaven and everything between that She didn’t go slow. Thank goddamn Christ that She took all on him at once, in a long movement that bumped him against the back of her throat, and set a brutal, torturous fucking pace. Found a beat, fast and rhythmic, where She’d pull up, up, almost all the way off with her hand trailing behind her, and lick the very tip of his cock before dropping back down. Down until Ben could feel the tightness of Her throat, squeezing his balls once before repeating it all again. Over and over, sucking with her teeth grazing him and her moans—loud and needy fucking moans—making Ben wonder if this was heaven. That was the only way that this—that She—was real, if he’d died and somehow managed his way into fucking heaven.

But Ben’s hand in Her hair that he’d tangled between his fingers to just touch her, was real. The small jerks of his hips into Her mouth—when her moans would vibrate around him and echo in his ears so he couldn’t help himself—were real. Her warmth and beauty and the feeling of Her was real. And fuck She was so fucking beautiful and perfect and-

Ben said Her name through strained teeth. “Where-“

She went faster. Moaned louder with a whine, her hand in time with the beat of her heart. Leaned into him, the wettest and most fucking sinful sounds Ben had ever heard escaping her. She was grinding down on air, so fucking pretty and focused, but looking up at him under eyelashes with want. Managing to take him deeper.

What did Ben in was Her. Fucking Her, groaning his name around his cock, looking up at him like he was everything.

He tried to pull away. He’d fucking swear he tried to pull away. He’d tried to paint her face or tits or any other perfect part of Her she’d allow, but she held him. She kept a firm grip on Ben’s leg for just a second—only long enough to tell him what she wanted—and he’d given in. He’d fucked Her face through his orgasm, and She hadn’t flinched as he came down her throat. Swallowing and letting Her tongue brush him all the way until he was done, then pulling off of him with a popping sound, and giving him a soft smile.

The amount of self-control Ben was capable of needed to be fucking studied. Every part of him needed to fuck Her. Anyone with half a fucking mind would need to fuck her if they were allowed to see her like this. Flushed and breathing heavy, eyes slightly unfocused with a want, cum dribbling out of her mouth. Allowed to see Her wipe it off with her fingers and suck them dry. Without hesitation, like it was something she didn’t even have to think about doing. But only Ben was allowed to see this, and that made it a million times more impressive that he was able to not throw Her onto the bed and fuck her until some stupid mission was the last thing she cared about.

The mission. The stupid fucking mission they had been supposed to be getting ready for. When it was over, he’d have all the time in the world to fuck Her like she deserved. But they’d have to actually do the mission first.

“What time is it?” She was looking around the room, still kneeling in front of Ben. “MM said we had to be in the dining hall at noon.” 

Ben couldn’t be fucked to stop staring at Her, let alone know the fucking time. “Check your damn phone, Sunshine, I’m not a fucking clock.” 

She stuck her tongue out at him. Her tongue that had just been wrapped around his cock. That had just been tasting his cum and she was still on Her knees-

“Mine’s dead, and like,” She waved vaguely past him. “Way over there. Give me yours.”

That snapped Ben out of it. Her palm was extended, she was looking at him expectantly, and he could not give her his phone. “You’ve got legs,” he grunted Her name, trying to look at her and remain completely fucking unaffected her flat glare. “Fucking use them.” 

She scoffed. “When have you ever been in favor of me using my legs.”

“I’m always in favor of you using your legs. They make excellent fucking handles.” Ben winked at Her, and her heart fluttered slightly. “And you’re always on my ass about letting you walk yourself. Here’s your fucking chance.” 

“Oh, fuck off.” Her voice was bored, unwavering. “Phone.”

“No. Get your own damn phone.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Why are you being so weird.”

“I’m not being fucking weird-“ 

“Yes, you are. What’s wrong with you.” 

“Nothing, it’s my phone-“ 

“Benjamin.” She snapped, and he was in trouble. He knew that voice, that was Her I’m fucking onto your shit, Pretty Boy, voice. “Is it porn? Because I won’t give a flying fuck-“

“It’s not fucking porn,” he scowled. “I wouldn’t hide porn from you, that’s fucking stupid.” 

“So you are hiding something.” 

Shit. “Shut the fuck up.” 

She dove forward, hand jamming into Ben’s pocket. Where She knew he kept his phone, because she knew fucking everything. Insufferable, brilliant, perfect fucking woman. Thankfully, Ben was just faster than she was, and slammed his hand down to trap Her hand against him.

“Ben-“

“I’m not fucking hiding anything,” Ben said Her name firmly. It was incredibly fucking important she didn’t think he was keeping secrets from Her, because he wasn’t. This was worse than that. “I just value my goddamn privacy-“ 

“Oh, shove it up your ass, Pretty Boy.” She tried to tug her hand—now wrapped around Ben’s phone—from his grip. “I leave the door open when I shit and you spent an hour last week telling me about what Baseball games made you hard. I just sucked your dick. There’s literally nothing on your phone that could shock me.” 

He doubted that. Ben almost wanted to just let Her have his phone, to prove her fucking wrong. His pride managed to win for now, but if She kept talking about how she’d sucked his dick his will might dissolve real damn fast. “I told you about the baseball in fucking confidence-“

“I didn’t tell anyone.” She wrinkled her nose. “How would that have even come up? Hey, Annie. You know how you’re not Ben’s biggest fan? Wait until you hear about how he got a boner when the Phillies won the 1980 World Series, I’m sure it’ll completely reverse your opinion of him.” 

“Brat-“ “Can I please just check the time?” She had stopped trying to pull away from Ben, only frowning up at him with her pretty fucking eyes watching him carefully. “I won’t look in your phone, I just need to see the clock. Please.” 

Ben didn’t love how well that worked. How Her saying please and somehow trusting that he really wasn’t hiding anything from her made Ben crumble completely in only a second. Worse, he didn’t hate himself for it. He couldn’t call himself a fucking pussy because goddammit, anyone would’ve given into Her. Anyone with eyes and a brain would be willing to give Her anything.  

“Fine,” he grunted, loosening his hand from pinning Her’s in his pocket. “But I don’t want to hear a fucking word out your mouth, got it?” 

She blinked at him, but nodded. “Uh, sure.” 

His whole body was tense as She pulled out his phone, tapping the screen on, still on her fucking knees. She needed to stand up, needed to stop being so fucking perfect that Ben couldn’t look away, because now he had to watch Her look at his lockscreen as his teeth ground enough to break. Ben had to watch Her eyes widen, hear her heart skip a beat, and soft lips fall open in surprise.

She looked up at Ben, and he couldn’t avoid her gaze if he wanted to. “Ben-“ 

“Shut up,” he grumbled. “You promised. Not a fucking word.” 

“I did not promise,” She pushed. “I agreed. You should’ve made me promise, because I-“

“Fucking promise then. Not a word.” 

“Well, that ship kind of sailed, Benjamin.” Her voice was dry, and Ben couldn’t figure out what that face meant. How She was looking at him—still like he was everything—but with something pushing up behind her eyes. That powerful thing, the one Ben couldn’t name. “So now we’re going to have several words about it.” 

Ben scowled, remaining silent as he realized there wasn’t a way out of this. She was sitting straight, one hand planted on Ben’s knee to balance herself, and had placed her body right where Ben would knock her backwards and onto the floor if he tried to move away. He could try and kiss and fuck his way through it, but She had the sharp look in her eyes that told him she’d either bite him, burn him, or let him fuck her before immediately getting on his ass again after. 

She sighed, and turned Ben’s screen so he could see it. “That’s me.” 

It was Her. She didn’t need to be fucking showing it him, he well knew that it was her. It was his favorite picture of her, the first one he’d taken that wasn’t a blurry piece of shit. It showed her downstairs, watching the TV with a focus Ben could only describe as violent. He remembered what they were watching, that she’d been tapping Ben’s arm along with the soundtrack, and that it had been close to midnight, because he could recite every detail of the photo—in picture and out—backwards with his damn eyes closed. She was wearing Ben’s shirt and shorts that had been small enough for the shirt to completely cover. It gave the impression that she was only wearing Ben’s shirt. She was frowning at the TV—perfect face cast in a green light from its glow—and leaning against Ben’s shoulder with his hand on her thigh. She had been half asleep, and the drawn frustration on her face and intensity in her eyes had been because she was fighting to make it through the movie. The fucking Muppet Movie, that she’d used a favor for Ben to watch with Her. He hadn’t watched it, he’d watched Her watch it, but there was no reason she had to know that. She’d seemed thrilled he was just there, and he’d been satisfied watching Her struggle to stay awake, feeling her fall further and further into his side, and listening to her mumble about the Muppet’s fucking cultural importance right up until the credits rolled and she immediately passed out.

Ben fucking loved that photo. How She could’ve just watched it alone but used a whole favor just for Ben to sit with her. How She’d been so determined to stay awake she’d been trying to inch away from him, but Ben would pull her back gently and she’d just sigh as her eyes drooped further. How at one point She’d started singing along with all the damn puppets, and the room had filled with a colorful, misting light. How She looked so much like his, how anyone glancing at the photo would see that she was choosing him and know that he had chosen her. How fucking beautiful she looked, even in the dark from the higher angle. So fucking perfect. 

He didn’t have any justification for it. The photo or why it was his lockscreen. It had taken Ben a whole hour while She was with Annie and Hughie to figure out how to set it. She’d told him, and he’d listened, but phones were a goddamn terrible, dogshit technology. But he’d done it. By himself. And fought the urge to brag to Her after. Because She didn’t need to know that it was his lockscreen, and Ben didn’t really know to explain why it was. It made him fucking happy. He liked seeing Her pretty face every time he used his phone. 

And he wasn’t sure how to tell Her that without sounding like a fucking idiot pussy.

So he just glared at Her and grunted, “Obviously.” 

“Ben,” Her words were slow, and she wasn’t looking away from him. “Why is that a picture of me.” 

“Because the camera was pointed at your damn face.” 

“Benjamin.” 

“It’s a good fucking photo, okay?” Ben snapped. “You look hot.” 

She glanced at the photo. “I do not look hot.” 

He scoffed. “Get your fucking eyes checked, Sunshine. You look hot. Every photo of you looks hot.” 

Her eyes somehow grew wider, her heart picking up speed, and Ben was going to chop off his tongue. “Every photo of me?” 

“That’s enough,” Ben lunged forward, but She swatted his hand with just enough heat for him to pull back with a hiss of Her name. “Give me my fucking phone.“

“Tell me what you mean by every. Every photo of me.” 

“No.”

She stuck her tongue out at him. “Fine, you stubborn, grumpy ass. Have it your way.” 

Before Ben could stop Her, she was swiping his phone open and entering his password. Hunching down so Ben could see her face, covering the phone protectively with her body. 

“This is violation of my fucking privacy.” He grumbled. “I’m going to report you to HR.” 

She shot him a flat look from under her lashes. “You didn’t even know what HR was until Mallory made us all sit in on that seminar because I called Butcher a hussy fucking cuntwad bitch and one of the regular agents overheard. And I could report you to HR for taking photos of me without my knowledge.” 

“They’re not damn pervert creep photos-“ 

“Ben,” She looked up at him, thumb hovering over the Photo Library app icon. “As your closest thing to unqualified legal counsel, I’d advise you shut the fuck up.” 

Ben scowled at Her, but snapped his jaw shut, watching her wearily as she opened his photos. 

They were all of Her. The only ones that weren’t of her were something called—according to his very thorough internet research—screenshots, that Ben didn’t know how he was taking, let alone how to stop taking. But the rest was Her. There wasn’t another fucking thing worth taking photos of in this stupid damn compound. In the whole fucking world. She was scrolling through them way too fucking slow, heart stuttering against her ribs, and Ben thought he might be fucking blushing. He didn’t fucking blush, he wasn’t a ditzy fucking schoolgirl or embarrassed pussy asshole who blushed- 

She surged upwards, yanking Ben down by his shirt to kiss him. Gently, sweetly, and so fucking soft, humming into Ben’s mouth with a smile. Leaning against his chest until She was hanging off him with her arms around his neck. When she pulled back Her eyes were burning with that strange fucking look, and she was chewing her lip and she studied him. Looking for something Ben didn’t know how to show Her. Mouth opening and closing, heart beating fast, and the Thing needed to tell Her something- 

“You’ve been playing Candy Crush,” She said with a small, smug grin. “I saw the screenshots. They go back like, three weeks.” 

“Shut up,” he muttered, rolling his eyes, and She just shook her head. 

“No, I’m going to rub this in your fucking face so hard-“ 

It was his turn. To kiss Her and hold her and hope that was enough for the Thing to just stop screaming at him. It wasn’t—it made everything worse when She relaxed against him with a happy sound—and the Thing grew impossible to ignore. Drowning everything out with Her, Her, Her, Ben had something she needed to have too, She needed to understand. The only thing to keep it at bay, from bursting out of Ben and into Her, was touching her. Setting his mouth deeper against Hers, hauling her over him as he lay flat on the mattress, letting her whines and breathless sounds run right through him. Let them satiate his undying need and hunger for Her. 

She pulled back first, and Ben let himself be slightly cocky about how her thighs were squeezing around his chest. About the fact that She just rested her head on his shoulder as she caught her breath. Warm breath fanning over his neck, heartbeat slowing right until Ben started to sit up and She mindlessly ground against him at the movement. 

The Thing had to tell Her about this indescribable, unending fucking something. But the Thing didn’t have words. It was a part of Ben, and Ben couldn’t get a goddamn fucking clue what was so apparently fucking crucial for Her to know. But She had to know, whatever it was she had to know, she needed to get it, get him, get why, Ben needed to tell Her- 

“It’s almost noon,” She whispered against Ben’s skin. “We need to go.” 

Ben nodded, and picked Her up against him, turning them so she was resting on the bed as he stood. “I’m wearing my fucking suit.” 

“Okay,” Ben could see her watching him in the mirror, still only wearing a shirt and underwear. He tossed her some pants and bra over his shoulder, and didn’t move until She started pulling them on. “You should bring your shield as well.” 

He frowned at Her. “What about you.” 

“What about me?” 

“You need a fucking weapon. I still have that pussy agent’s gun-“ 

She rose from the bed, padding over to Ben side with a small smile. “I’m the weapon, Pretty Boy. And I have you.”

Any protests Ben might have had about how She might be a walking, breathing weapon of mass destruction but Homelander always made her freeze were killed by those words. She did have him. She’d always have him. She didn’t need a weapon because she had him. She was brilliant and quick and made of fire, but if all that managed to fail, she had Ben. She was standing here, with him as he changed—stealing looks that he wasn’t fucking missing at his bare chest—and She had Him. 

“What wrong,” he grumbled, and She shook her head, hands roaming through one of the top drawers. 

“Socks.” 

Ben rolled his eyes, and grabbed out a simple black pair from the top. “I want my fucking phone back.” 

“Why, to play Candy Crush?” 

“Shut the fuck up,” Ben muttered. “I’m fucking winning. I’ll delete it when I fucking win.” 

She snorted. “You can’t win Candy Crush, Benjamin.” 

“What the hell are you talking about.”

“There’s like a million levels. And they’re always adding new ones. It’s not a winnable game.” 

“Well I’ll make it fucking winnable.” 

She snorted. “How.” 

“Shut the fuck up,” Ben frowned, watching Her as she continued to search the drawer. “And I just gave you perfectly good fucking socks-“

“I need underwear,” She mumbled, face flushing. “Mine are, uh, I can’t wear them.” 

Ben grinned—wide and smug—at Her reflection, “Why not?” 

“Fuck you.” 

“Ah,” Ben winked at Her when she finally met his eyes. “You’re welcome for that.” 

“Shut up,” She chucked a stray bra at Ben, glaring back down. “Go get your stupid fucking phone, you cunt.” 

Ben ran his hand up Her back, into her hair, and gently turned her head to look at him. He kissed Her one last time because she was so fucking perfect and no one could damn stop him. Long and wet, until She said his name in that perfect fucking way. “Brat,” he whispered against Her mouth, and she shoved his chest lightly. 

Ben took a steady step back, chuckling at Her glare, at the way her sharp eyes were still full of want for him. At the way Her dramatic pout was just a little bigger because he’d made her lips swollen. At Her. Just Her. So fucking simply Her. 

As She changed, Ben ducked under the bed and frowned at where he’d stashed the gun. Carefully between the mattress and frame, unloaded with the rounds beside it. He wouldn’t need it. The plan would work, and he wouldn’t need it. There was no need to bring it—to show the team he had it—and not need it. 

But it couldn’t hurt. He could stash it in his suit, hide it from Butcher and Mallory and Annie, and nobody would have to know unless he needed it. And then they wouldn’t try to take it away, because Ben would’ve just fucking saved their asses- 

“Just bring the gun, Ben.” 

His head bumped against the metal frame of the bed as he pulled out from under it and found Her standing above him with her arms crossed. “What-“ 

“You should bring it,” She shrugged. “I mean, it won’t hurt Homelander, but guns don’t weigh nothing. You could throw it at his face, if you needed to. Catch him off guard.”

Fucking Christ, She was perfect. Ben didn’t need to be told twice, and as he returned under the bed to retrieve the gun he heard her steps move away from beside him. When he stood back up, Ben saw that She had moved to her side of the bed, and was placing her sunglasses up on her forehead before turning to Ben with a grin. 

“Ready?” 

Ben shoved his gun into his pants, hauled up his shield, and gave Her a rough nod as he tossed his arm over her shoulder. “Fucking born ready.” 

For once, She and Ben weren’t the last people to arrive at one of these stupid fucking meetings. Butcher and Mallory were there—Ben didn’t think they had lives outside of fucking up everyone else’s—huddled along with MM at the head of the table. The French Prick and Kimiko were in a silent conversation on one of the benches, but Hughie and Annie were late. Ben tried not to feel too smug about it, but next time Annie tried to berate him about keeping his dick in his pants and his mouth to himself because he was making Her late, he’d shove this in her fucking face.

Seeing them, Mallory gave a curt nod and ushered Butcher and MM through the steel kitchen door as She guided Ben to drop down at the bench. Kimiko smiled at them both, the usual, toothy and broad smile for Her, and a small one with a nod for Ben. As She and Kimiko launched into an exchange of gestures, the French Prick gave Ben a nervous nod. 

“Good morning, Soldier Boy,” the French Prick was watching Ben carefully. 

“It fucking isn’t,” Ben grunted, and She kicked his shin under the table. 

Play nice, She shot him a quick glare before returning her attention to Kimiko, and Ben rolled his eyes. He was saved from the French Prick trying to continue engaging with him by Annie and Hughie’s arrival, Annie walking over to join the group of conniving dickheads in the back and Hughie halting at the bench, glancing nervously at Ben. 

“Just sit your pussy ass down, Kid.” Ben snapped, and braced for another hit to his leg. It didn’t come, and when he looked over at Her—expecting a glare or scowl—the only sign she’d heard him was her knee, pressing into his. 

Hughie sat, fidgeting at Ben’s side and trying to look at the doors without anyone noticing. With quick, weak glances and jerked head movements. Ben was about to tell him to just stand the fuck up and join them when he felt Her nudge his shoulder, and looked over to see her blinking at him. 

Kimiko said they were arguing about splitting us up. 

Ben scowled at Her. The fuck do you mean splitting us up. 

Mallory wanted you to go to the tower. MM didn’t. 

That was, genuinely, a fucking shock. MM hated him, there wasn’t a world where he’d stick up for Ben fucking staying with Her. It must have shown across Ben’s face, because She shrugged.

He apparently thought this wouldn’t work if they separated us. Said you’d just be a giant fucking whiny manchild without me. 

Did they decide? Ben decided to ignore MM’s manchild jab, because She’d just find a way to turn it on him with a joke and that fucker seemed to be the only one with a damn working brain. Because there’s not a fucking chance in hell you’re meeting Homelander without me. 

They’re still arguing. Butcher hadn’t voted yet, and they were waiting for Annie. 

Ben rolled his eyes. Who damn died and put those four pussies in charge of us. This is fucking democracy, Sunshine, we deserve a vote. 

Well, we’re both technically dead, Kimiko and Frenchie aren’t citizens, and I think Hughie just doesn’t want to deal with them. 

They’re talking about our fucking lives. We should get a goddamn say. 

Take it up with Mallory, Pretty Boy. 

I’m not taking shit up with Mallory. She can suck my dick if she tries to separate us. 

She pouted at him. I thought your dick was mine to suck alone. 

Ben snorted, pulling Her closer towards him and kissing the top of her head. Before he could growl something in her ear that would make her fucking horny enough to ditch this whole stupid goddamn plan and take off to Rome with him, the doors were swung open and MM stalked back into the room with Annie close behind him. Butcher and Mallory followed after a few seconds—Mallory having pulled a huge fucking poster out of her damn ass at some point—and they stopped at the head of the table as Annie dropped next to Hughie and MM sat beside the French Prick. She hadn’t tried to pull out from under Ben’s arm, and until she did she’d stay right fucking there. 

“Look alive, cunts.” Butcher glared around the table. “We’re moving out as soon as all our bloody ducks are in a row. Grace?” 

Mallory nodded, spreading the poster across the table. It was a blueprint. Ben recognized it immediately. He’d seen it far too many fucking times. It was a Vought Tower blueprint. 

“Butcher, Marvin, Frenchie, and Kimiko will take this door,” she tapped the blueprint, and something around Ben’s throat loosened when he realized he wasn’t going to the tower. He was staying with Her. “Into the building. It’s used for the Seven’s housekeepers and more illicit guests.” 

Hughie frowned. “Illicit?” 

“Hookers, lad.” Butcher winked. “It’s the hooker door.” 

“Oh. Uh, good for them.” 

“And we have access to it?” Annie leaned forward. “MM, you said A-Train-“ 

“He’s leaving it unlocked for us.” MM tapped the map, near where Mallory had just done the same. “And making sure someone conveniently loses their badge.” 

“Someone?” 

“Don’t worry your pure little bleedin heart, Starlight.” Butcher drawled. “We’ll be keepin the lady on lockdown. Best fuckin witness protection package the CIA’s got.” 

Hughie frowned at MM. “What about A-Train? Are we, are we just going to trust him?“

“He’s got his own ass on the line as well now.” MM’s voice was firm. Not leaving room for argument. “And after the Diner, he and Ashley both got skin in the game. I trust him.” 

“And he’s just leaving the door unlocked? Giving us an opening?” 

“He said he’d try and keep The Deep and New Noir distracted. Can’t account for Sage though.” MM looked away from Hughie, back to Mallory. “As long as there hasn’t been any leaks, it shouldn’t fucking matter that Sage is in the tower though. If she doesn’t get the drop on us, she’s a non-issue.” 

Mallory nodded tightly. “Agreed. And none of my men are stupid enough to say shit to anyone, so we’re in the clear. Team Butcher will take the elevator up, find Ryan Butcher on 99, and extract him. Butcher has the Becca and Anomaly files on his phone, and hopefully that will be more than enough to make Ryan go willingly.” 

Ben tensed, and when She spoke her fingers were tapping against his arm. “And if it’s not?” 

“Then Frenchie creates the diversion, and we leave empty handed.” 

She nodded slowly, examining the blueprints. “Frenchie?” 

“Oui?” 

“What exactly is your diversion?” 

“I have detested the billboard of Firecracker in the Times Square for several months. She is dead, she will not miss it.” The French Prick beamed with pride, and She glanced up with a frown. 

“Times Square?” 

“It will be controlled, Madame.” The French Prick assured Her, shooting Ben quick pussy glances. “Only just enough.” 

She nodded, narrowing her eyes back on the blueprint. “We’re taking two separate cars, right?” When nobody answered, She looked up. “Mallory?”

“You’ll all be transported in the van.” Mallory frowned. “It’s more effective-“ 

“No,” She shook her head, attention returning down once more. “It’s more dangerous. We’re already risking a lot by Annie coming with Ben and I. We can’t also have one group unable to make a quick getaway.” 

“I suppose,” Mallory’s lips drew in a thin line. “Butcher could take his car-“ 

“We’ll take Butcher’s car.” She tapped the blueprint, near the door. “There’s cameras. If they see Butcher’s car, they’ll know something’s up. You have,” She looked up, scanning the table with sharp eyes. “You’ve taken care of the cameras in the building. Right?” 

“We’ll shoot them as we go,” Butcher grunted, and She gaped at him. 

“As you fucking go?” 

“They won’t be entering the tower until after Homelander leaves it.” Annie leaned across Ben and Hughie to look at Her. “And they won’t be wandering. It’ll be fine.” 

“Speaking of Homelander,” Mallory crossed her arms. “Starlight, Campbell, Soldier Boy, and the Anomaly will,” she sighed. “Take Butcher’s car to the Starlight Fund. From there, Soldier Boy will call Homelander with Campbell’s phone. Once Homelander arrives, Starlight will alert Team Butcher, and they’ll begin. Do not-“ Butcher received a withering look. “Proceed with the extraction until Team Starlight has given the green light. Understood?” 

Butcher shrugged. “We’ll see.” 

“Butcher-“ 

“We’re playin real bloody fast and loose with a lot of this, Grace.” Butcher snapped. “I’d be more fuckin worried about what we’ll do if Homelander doesn’t take his bait.” 

Everyone looked at Her, still frowning at the blueprints. Ben squeezed her thigh lightly, and she glanced up at him a frown. “What-“ 

“What’s your plan, Love,” Butcher drawled. “For if Homelander don’t fall into your trap that easy.” 

She swallowed, and Ben could hear the rapid beat of her heart. “He will.”

Her voice was steady, every part of her controlled, but under the table her leg pressed into Ben’s, and her hand drummed against his leg. Ben grabbed it, stilling her movement, and She glanced at him.

You’re going to be fine, he glared at Her. This is going to fucking work, and you’ll be fine.

She smiled at him with sad fucking eyes that carved something open in Ben’s chest. I know. She tilted her head at him. And I thought you hated this plan.

I do. Ben scowled. I fucking loathe this stupid goddamn plan. But it will work, and tonight I’ll fuck you so hard you’ll stop making such fucking idiotic plans. 

She pouted at him. But making idiotic plans is one of my best qualities. 

Ben rolled his eyes. I’m well fucking aware of your best qualities. That’s not one of them. 

Really, She gave him a flat look. Because I think it’s in the top three. It’s stupid plans, my tits, and my ability to put up with your shit. 

Smartass, Ben bumped his knee with hers, grinning down at Her. You’re not even fucking close. 

Not even the tits?

Your pussy is better, Ben winked at Her. Trust me, Sunshine. You’ve got the best pussy I’ve ever fucking seen. 

She flushed, wrinkling her nose at him. Have you been ranking all the pussies you’ve seen? 

Had to pass the damn time somehow. 

I feel like there had to be other options. 

Maybe, Ben shrugged. But I don’t really give a shit. And now I can be fucking certain when I say your pussy is my favorite. 

What are my best qualities, if you’re such an expert? She was watching Ben carefully, and he almost scoffed at how nervous she looked. Like he might not be able to give an answer. Ben could list Her best qualities for fucking years, if someone let him. 

You’re a goddamn genius. You’re fucking kind, kinder than you should be. And you’ve got the best fucking pussy of all time. 

I don’t think I’m kind, She frowned, and that definitely made Ben scoff. 

You’re the kindest person I know. It’s fucking annoying. Ben studied Her soft, tight features. She didn’t believe him. You’re not nice, Sunshine. You’ve got a smart fucking mouth and a damn attitude. But you’re kind. 

She nodded slowly. And you don’t hate that? 

Ben blinked at Her. Why the fuck would I hate that. 

Kind people are pussies, Ben. 

Nice people are pussies, He glared Her name at her perfect face, watching him intently. They’re weak, lying, insufferable fucking holier-than-thou assholes. You’re not any of that. 

She smiled at him, without teeth but real. That was her real, comfortable smile that made the Thing so fucking loud. You’re not a pussy either. 

I fucking know that. He was trying to glare at her, but it wasn’t damn working. Not when She was smiling at him like that, and that deep, infinite thing in her eyes was so clear. Aimed at him. And the Thing had to fucking tell Her something- 

Butcher coughed, and Ben realized the whole fucking Pussy Brigade was staring at them. “You twats paying attention?” 

“Does it fucking matter if we are?” Ben drawled. “It’s her damn plan, and I know everything I’ve got to do. Not our fucking fault you dumbasses need a whole meeting.” 

“Then could you please repeat your instructions, Soldier Boy?” Mallory glared at him. “For our own peace of mind?” 

Ben held Mallory’s glare with his own. This was a fucking waste of time. “Go to the Starlight Fund, call Homelander, distract the pussy, then leave.” Protect Her. Don’t let her out of your sight, or Homelander within a fucking arms reach of her. Keep Her safe, at any fucking cost. 

“With whose phone, Gov?” Butcher sneered, and Ben rolled his eyes. 

“Mine, you fucking-“ 

Butcher made a loud buzzer sound. “Afraid that ain’t the right answer. Would you like to try again for double Jeopardy?” 

“That’s not how fucking Jeopardy works.” MM frowned, and Butcher shot him a glare. 

“That ain’t the fuckin point, MM. The cunt got it wrong-“ 

“Whose fucking phone should I damn use then?” Ben snapped. There would be time for Butcher’s fucking bitching later, right now Ben’s patience was about to fucking snap. This needed to be done. “Mine works fucking fine-“ 

“Your phone is a registered CIA number,” Hughie looked at Ben nervously as he explained. “Mine isn’t. Vought won’t take a CIA call, it’ll get screened on the first ring. And they probably won’t take a call from Annie, either. If we call the tower with my number we’ll get past the first checkpoint, and then you speaking will get us to Homelander.” 

This shit wasn’t worth arguing about. It was barely worth fucking talking about. “Fine. Are we actually going to do this, or just goddamn sit here like a bunch of assholes.” 

“We were just waiting on you and the missus to rejoin us, Gov.” Butcher sneered. “Everyone’s been clear for a hot fucking minute while you twats were eye-fucking.” 

Ben glowered at him, clenching his fist under the table. When this was over, Ben was going to kill him. It was going to be so fucking satisfying, and then he’d run away with Her to goddamn Rome. But this had to be finished first. 

As everyone started to filter out—tight nods and wishes of good luck being exchanged—Ben stayed at Her side. She was still looking at the blueprints, frowning as her eyes scanned slowly over the paper right until Mallory pulled it away. She started to stand, and Ben wrapped an arm around Her waist. Keeping her steady and at his side. 

“Team Starlight will leave first,” Mallory's voice was curt as she nodded at Annie. “Butcher-“ 

Hughie let out a high yelp as Butcher chucked the keys at him. Somehow, the pussy managed to catch them. 

“Lad, if you wreck my car, you’re buyin me a new one.” 

“Um, yeah. Okay.” Hughie nodded nervously. “Do I have to drive-“ 

“Yes, and any of those cunts bloody touch the wheel-“ 

“Your car will be fine Butcher.” Annie cut him off with a glare. “It’s just a car.” 

Butcher looked like he might kill her, but MM cut off any violence—fucking unfortunate, because Annie probably would’ve killed Butcher and then Ben wouldn’t have to—with a snap of, “We don’t got time to waste on this shit. The kid will drive, Butcher, and your car will live. Let’s fucking move.” 

Ben held Her against him out of the building, helping her into the backseat of Butcher’s car and pulling her back into his chest when he sat at her side. She let him, leaning against his body and burying Her face in his shoulder as her heart became uneven. Not fast, but arhythmic. Her breathing was controlled, steady against Ben’s skin, but her heart betrayed the fear in her. Ben fucking hated this. He hated that she was doing this to herself. He hated that the only thing he could really do about it was hold her, at least until it was over and he could kiss and fuck all the worries out of Her perfect brain. 

He could try to distract Her. He wasn’t sure it would work, not when she was hugging him so tight and so fucking afraid, but goddamnit he had to do something. He couldn’t just fucking sit here, in the back of Butcher stupid car, and do fucking nothing like a fucking weak goddamn pussy. 

Ben squeezed her against him once, and She hummed into his body. Not looking up at him, or speaking. So Ben turned forward, attempting a different strategy. 

“What the fuck were you pussies talking about in the kitchen?” Ben grunted, and Annie sighed in the shotgun seat. 

“It’s not that important.” 

Ben rolled his eyes. “So you weren’t trying to goddamn separate us?” 

Annie shot Hughie a glare, the kid’s knuckles white on the steering wheel. “Hughie, did you-“ 

“Kimiko told us,” She turned slightly in Ben’s hold, voice soft. “And they didn’t separate us, Ben. Don’t be an ass.” 

He glared at Her. “I’m not being a fucking ass-“ 

“Benjamin.” She wrinkled her nose at him, and Ben felt a little lighter. She was pushing back at him, she was less afraid, and that’s all he could fucking ask for. “Shut up.” 

“Uh,” Hughie glanced at them in the rearview mirror. “Are you, is he-“ 

“He’s fine.” She slapped Ben arm, and he scoffed. “Just grumpy.” 

“I’m not goddamn grumpy.“ Ben muttered. “I’m just trying to get some fucking answers. Figure out what shit they were saying about us behind our fucking backs.” 

“It’s really not that interesting,” Annie shrugged. “Mallory said it would be better to take you with Butcher. MM said it would be worse. Butcher and I voted with MM, and that was it.” 

She frowned, twisting around fully to look at Annie. “Butcher voted with MM?” 

Annie nodded, and She looked up at Ben. That’s weird right? I’m not insane? 

No, it’s fucking weird. Ben glared at Annie, and said aloud, “The fuck did he do that for.” 

“I don’t know,” Annie turned to look back at them. “I mean, would you rather he hadn’t?” 

“It’s just, it’s surprising.” She shrugged. “He hates us.” 

“I don’t think he hates you,” Hughie said slowly. “Butcher doesn’t like being wrong. Or challenged. You,” he said Her name, nodding to Her in the mirror. “Specifically, do both. I think when we found you he thought you’d be like either Annie or Maeve, and you weren’t.” 

“Annie or Maeve?” She gave Ben a confused look, and he shrugged. He didn’t have a fucking clue what Hughie was talking about, or how anyone could possibly be annoyed by Her not being Annie or Maeve. She was fucking perfect, and Butcher was lucky to be damn graced with her presence. 

“Like, completely against everything he does or completely for it.” Hughie looked to Annie for help. “Right?”

“I mean,” Annie frowned, nodding. “I guess. None of us were sure what we were looking for with you. Maeve said you were powerful, and hated Homelander. We all kind of took that as you’d been burned by Vought or something, not what, what actually happened.”

“And Butcher kind of got an idea that you’d be just, easy to work with. And after we did find you, I think he was sure you’d just be willing to do whatever he wanted to kill Homelander. And you weren’t.” Hughie shook his head, hands tapping on the wheel. “So I don’t think he hates you. I think he just doesn’t like that you’re um, not what he expected.” 

That was completely fucking insane to Ben. She wasn’t what anyone expected, that was one of the best damn things about Her. She was too damn forgiving and kind, but still a clever, vindictive woman who never fucking backed down. She didn’t ride any sort of fucking high horse, but also cared about people. It would be fucking annoying and insufferable if She wasn’t so fucking genuine about it. If her money didn’t live in her pretty fucking mouth when she said she’d do whatever it takes and understood what that meant for Her. She wasn’t easy to work with, not by a fucking long shot, but that was because she was goddamn resolved, so certain of what She thought had to be done and what She deemed unnecessary. She was always fucking right, she never fully broke, she never fucking faltered, and the whole goddamn world was better for it. 

“So he, he voted in our favor?” She was still looking at Annie, head tilted. “No conditions?” 

Annie shook her head. “I voted with MM, and he followed. Told Mallory he was with us.” 

She nodded, and gave a small sound of agreement. Even as he wanted a fucking reason—for Butcher’s goddamn attitude and cruelty to her, for why’d this was where he backed them up—Ben decided he would drop it for now, no how much this all made him want to pummel Butcher into the curb. There would be time for that later, now was about keeping Her here. With him. 

Ben kissed Her shoulder, because he fucking wanted to, he could, and she was starting to look damn sad again. She leaned her head back into Ben, and smiled up at him. Hi. 

How fucking far is this place. Ben met Her gaze, fighting his mouth tugging upwards to return her smile. This was serious. Fucking serious. He had to glare so She knew that. We’ve been driving for a million damn years. 

It’s been twenty minutes, Benjamin. We’ll be there soon. She gave him a teasing grin. You fucking toddler. 

Ben rolled his eyes. I am not a fucking toddler. I’m a fucking grown man, who’s doesn’t have the goddamn time for this shit. 

Really. She raised her brows, still grinning. It was getting a lot fucking harder to not grin back at Her. We have the same schedule, and I’ve got time for it. 

No you don’t. He winked at Her, and knew she figured out where he was headed when her finger dug into his arm and her face flushed. I’ve set aside our whole night to fuck you. And I’d like to get started as soon as goddamn possible. 

She stuck her tongue out at him, and Ben stopped trying to fight his smile. Cunt. 

Brat. He kissed her, pulling her fully into his lap and leaning over her body. She smiled against Ben’s lips, making a small sound from her throat, and the Thing was going to fucking explode and kill him. The only way out was to tell Her. Ben still wasn’t sure what the fuck the Thing thought he needed to say, but he was positive it was something for Her. Absolutely fucking certain that She needed to know that Ben- 

The car halted, the rumble of the engine going dead, and She pulled away from Ben to look around. 

“We’re here?” 

Hughie nodded, shoving the keys in his pocket. “Is everyone, uh, I guess ready?” 

“As we can be,” Annie unbuckled herself, taking a deep breath. “We should go inside. Fast.” 

She nodded, Her hands on Ben’s arm growing heated. Searing into his skin, smoke curling up into the air. 

Ben said Her name lowly, because this needed to be aloud. She needed to hear him. 

She looked up at him, her small smile not reaching her eyes. “Ben.” 

“You’re going to be fucking fine.” Ben hissed, turning Her body in his arms so she faced him fully. “I’m not going to leave your side. I’m not going to let him fucking near you. And then we’ll go home.” 

“I know,” She leaned forward, kissing him so fucking sweetly, pressing Her forehead to his. “I trust you.” 

As She started to slide out of the car, every part of Ben was telling him to grab her. To pull her back against him, commender a plane from any shitty fucking cargo airport, and leave. Get the fuck out now. The only thing that kept him from giving in was the knowledge that she’d hate him. She’d never fucking forgive him for making her leave, she’d never damn speak to him again, and Ben didn’t think he could live with that. He didn’t think that he could live without Her. He honestly wasn’t sure how he had lived without her before. He’d never needed someone like this, he’d never needed fucking anything before. He’d never cared so much what someone else thought, been so willing to do anything for just one person. One perfect fucking person. Ben had lived a whole lifetime, and then some, alone. And he’d been content. Not happy, but content. Now he was happy. Now he had Her, and she was perfect, and he never wanted to go back to just content. 

So he followed Her out of the car, shield in his hand. He’d follow her anywhere. Out of a car was barely anything when he’d move mountains and burn cities to follow her. Actually, he’d clear the cities first, then burn them. Ben was pretty certain She’d be pissed about him burning a city with people in it. Looking down at Her—beautiful and pulling his arm over her before he was at full height—Ben decided he’d probably follow her even if she was pissed. She’d probably be justified anyways, as she was rarely genuinely pissed at Ben anymore, so he’d always fix whatever he did and keep following Her. Right into hellfire, where he’d still be happy, because She’d be with him. 

The Starlight Fund was a completely desecrated fucking shithole. There was a truly fucking terrible amount of pro-Homelander graffiti—one even depicting every member of the Seven shitting on a group of Starlighters—and Ben was pretty goddamn sure the scraping he was hearing was rats. 

“This is gross,” She muttered at his side, and he snorted. 

“Lot of fucking doodles on the walls,” Ben pulled Her closer into him, speaking into her ear. “That one,” he pointed to a drawing of Fish-Boy ripping his shirt off to display disgustingly ripped gills. “Is my favorite.” 

She hummed. “Because of the gills, or the muscles?” 

“Because he looks like he just shat his damn pants.” 

She gave a small laugh, and Ben wished this could be it. That they had come here to make fun of something stupid and now they were leaving. But Hughie turned around, offering Ben his phone with a shaking hand, and Ben had to set his shield down and take it. Had to feel Her tense again, and hear her chew her lip as Ben frowned at the screen. 

“I already entered the number,” Hughie rubbed the back of his next, words soft and nervous. Part of Ben wanted to hit the idiot, because it wasn’t fucking Hughie who was in danger. If She could hold herself together, this fucking pussy should be able to as well. But Ben just grunted—hitting Hughie wouldn’t really help anything, and She’d probably just get more tense—and let him continue. “You just have to call it. Say you’re, uh, you, and ask to speak to Homelander.” 

“And no fighting, once he gets here.” Annie added. “We’re just distracting him. We can’t fight him, not now.” 

“Why the fuck not,” Ben scowled. “We’d be doing the world a damn favor, killing him-“ 

“He might leave,” She said, finger’s tapping against Ben’s own. “He might just blast into the air and go find Ryan and this would’ve been for nothing. Ben,” She looked up at him, eyes desperate. “Don’t fight him. Promise you won’t fight him.”

“Fine.” 

“Ben-“ 

“I swear I won’t kill Homelander right now, as much as he fucking deserves it.” Ben grunted, still looking at Her. “This is fucking stupid.” 

“I know,” She gave him a tight smile. “Thank you for doing it anyway.” 

“If shit starts to even look like it’s headed south-“ 

“Then we can leave and you can tell me about how you were right for a whole decade.” 

Ben nodded, still holding Her gaze. In Rome? 

In Rome, She squeezed his hand over her body. And you can fuck me every day for that decade as well. And the one after it. 

Ben kissed Her, long and slow, not giving a fuck that Hughie and Annie were watching, or that they were surrounded by rats, or that the awful graffiti and awareness of Homelander arriving soon was hanging over their heads. He kissed her like he had all the time in the world. 

“I’m ready,” She whispered against him. “I’ll be okay.” 

He didn’t move for a second, just sharing Her breath. But she pulled back first with a deep sigh and buried Her face into Ben’s chest, arms wrapped around him. Waiting. 

Ben called the number, and it picked up on the third ring. 

An overly sweet woman’s voice echoed through the room. “Thank you for calling Vought International’s Crime Tip Line! All of our operators are currently busy, please stay on the line until one becomes available! You are seventh in line.” 

The voice was sounded fucking robotic when it had said seventh, and Ben wasn’t sure that the lady had been real either. “What the fuck was that.” 

Annie sighed. “We’re on hold.” 

“The tip line?” She twisted around, still leaning against Ben, to give Hughie an exasperated look. “Really?” 

“I couldn’t find Ashely’s phone number,” Hughie muttered. “Apparently she kept getting protest calls from Starlighters, and it overwhelmed their servers.” 

“Mallory couldn’t get it?” 

“It’s being kept secret. We’d have to do a freedom of information request, and that would’ve tipped them off.” 

“Please stay on the line, your call is very important to us. You are sixth in line.” The voice disappeared again, returning so sort of too-happy fucking elevator music. She sighed, slumping slightly against Ben.  

“I guess we’re waiting.” 

It took fifteen fucking minutes. Ben’s shield was still on the floor, and he’d pick it up when he had to but right now was about holding Her properly. At some point Butcher called to yell about where the bloody hell the signal was, and Annie had to explain what was happening. Butcher called them fucking cunt idiots, and hung up. She stayed against Ben the whole time, tapping against his arm over Her stomach, staring into the distance. When that goddamn music finally came to an abrupt halt the whole room froze, Hughie and Annie looking up from where they’d been sitting against the wall. 

“Thank you for calling Vought’s crime tip line, my name is Gavin. How can I be of service.” “I’m Soldier Boy,” Ben said bluntly, ignoring Her flat look of Really, Ben? “I want to speak with Homelander.” 

“Sir, this line is not a joke. Our policy requires me to report prank calls as crimes themselves-“ 

“This isn’t a goddamn prank.” Ben hissed. “I am Soldier Boy. I need to fucking speak to Homelander now, and if you report me as a crime I will find you and fucking kill you.” 

“Sir, may I please have your location-“ 

She had turned to stand in front of Ben, tugging his arm, pointing a finger to herself. Me. She gave him an urgent look. Say you have me. Use my supe name. And my real name. 

“I have the Anomaly.” This was fucking annoying, they shouldn’t be doubting him. He grunted Her full name, and she nodded at him. “She’s with me. And I want to fucking talk to Homelander. Now.” 

The line was silent. Ben glared at Her. That didn’t fucking work. 

She shook Her head. Wait for it. 

The line clicked, and a new voice—less bored and uninterested and a lot more fearful—spoke through the speaker. “This is Ashley Barrett, CEO of Vought International. I understand you’re claiming to be Soldier Boy?” 

“I fucking am Soldier Boy. Let me fucking speak to Homelander now.” 

The line was quiet again. “And you have her?” 

“Christ on a cross, fucking yes.” Ben scowled at Her. This is goddamn stupid. 

She shrugged. I’m just impressed you haven’t totally crushed the phone yet. 

Ben looked back to his hand, and found that his grip on Hughie’s phone was starting to cause cracks to form in the screen. He glared at Her. Shut up. 

The line clicked again, and everyone froze. Her heart was going to push out of her chest, and when the static sounded again Ben wasn’t sure it was even beating anymore. 

“Soldier Boy.” Homelander’s voice was so fucking weak. Even crackling through the phone and making Her freeze, he was a fucking pathetic pussy. “Is she really there? With you?” 

Ben looked at Her, face full of goddamn fear. He could stop this. Ben could hang up and Homelander would never have to step foot near Her again. She wouldn’t have to be afraid ever again, because Ben would take her as far away as he fucking could, and She’d be safe. 

He’d never hated anything more than having to say, “Yes.” 

“I want to talk to her.” Homelander snapped. “Give me to her. Now.”

She extended her hand, and blinked at Ben once. I’ll be fine.

It was a bold faced fucking lie. Her heart was going a goddamn mile a minute, and her face was blank, eyes glazed slightly. 

Ben glowered at Her. If anything goes wrong, if he say one fucking thing out of damn line, we’re leaving. 

Her smile didn’t meet her eyes. It was barely a smile, closer to a sad, anxious grimace with upturned lips. I know. Then her face grew gentle, with adoration painting her every feature. For him. Something unending and almost dangerous crossed Her eyes, and Ben couldn’t look away from her. I trust you. 

Ben nodded. You burn, I burn. It wasn’t what the Thing wanted Ben to tell her, but it was close. Better than telling Her nothing. 

You burn, I burn. She wrapped her hand around the phone, taking it from Ben as he picked up his shield. Let’s fucking do this. 

“If someone doesn’t say something-“ 

“Homelander,” Her voice was stronger than Ben expected. Her face was painfully empty—every piece of light in her gone as she became hollow—but her voice was even and controlled. “It’s me.” 

Homelander breathed Her name, and Ben’s blood went cold. He shouldn’t be allowed to say Her name. Not fucking ever, not like that. “Where the fuck are you. What have they done to you? Why have you been hiding-“ 

“I’m okay.” She wouldn’t look at Ben, gaze fixed on the floor. Fucking empty. “They haven’t hurt me. Just, I wasn’t allowed to see you. Or talk to you. They said just this once.” 

“Tell me where the fuck they’re keeping you,” Homelander hissed Her name. Ben was pretty sure she was going to throw up. “I’ll come find you, you can come home, and we’ll be together.” 

“I can’t,” She whispered, fingers starting to curl with smoke. “They’ll get mad-“ 

“So I’ll fucking kill them! I can do whatever I want, and it’s not like people will miss them! Just tell me where you are and I’ll come save you.” 

They needed to leave, right now. Her face was bloodless, Her breaths were mechanical, and Ben knew they needed to leave. She shouldn’t be doing this, she shouldn’t have to do anything for these fucking pussies, they should just fucking leave- 

Homelander said Her name again, and his voice had gone cold. “If you don’t tell me where you are, I’ll find your pretty little sister and have her tell me. I know they’ve been making you hide. I know they’ve been hurting you. And if your sister loves you half as much as I do, she’ll want you to come back to me. Where you’re safe.”

Her eyes snapped up to Ben’s. She wasn’t trying to tell him anything, just looking at him. Her brain was turning, spinning, moving faster and faster with Her heart. Trying to find something, somewhere, that Ben didn’t understand. A way out, a way forward, some sort of fucking plan to get through this. He’d promised he’d let Her do this. No matter how much he hated it, Ben had swore. She’d do what she needed to do, and—as long as Homelander never fucking touched Her again—he’d stand with her as she did. 

Ben’s jaw clenched, and he held her gaze. I’m here. I’m right fucking here. 

There was more he needed to say. There was so much fucking more Ben needed to tell Her. But that was enough, because She nodded. I know. 

“They took me to the Starlight Fund-“ The words had barely left Her mouth when the line clicked dead. The room was silent, so painfully fucking silent, and She was staring at Ben. He needed to tell Her now, the Thing needed to get its fucking shit together and be damn clear about what it fucking was Ben needed to tell Her, so he could tell Her now- 

The roof crashed open, and Homelander dropped into the middle of the room. Cape and suit and so fucking weak. 

He breathed Her name, not even looking around the rest of the fucking room. “I fucking found you.”

Ben almost scoffed. Homelander hadn’t fucking found Her. She’d goddamn called him. Told him where she was. He must have made some sort of sound, because cold blue eyes shot to him.

“Soldier Boy. Thank you for bringing Her back to me.” 

Never in his fucking life had Ben hated someone more. She wouldn’t look at him, staring at Homelander and taking shallow breaths. Not touching Ben. Her back was too straight, all the smoke was gone from Her body, and Ben couldn’t hear Her heart. Like it has just fucking stopped.

“Homelander,” Annie stood up from the wall, a truly violent glare on Her face. It almost made Ben respect her, the contempt with which she spoke and the loathing in her eyes. “You’re not taking her. You can talk. That’s it.” 

“Oh, shut up, you boring fucking Girl Scout.” Homelander dismissed Annie with a hand, still not looking away from Her and Ben. “This is a family matter, you and Campbell can go fuck in a closet for all I care.” 

“We’re not going anywhere-“ 

“I don’t care,” Homelander finally shot Annie a bored glare. “But if you even try and interfere with this, I’ll laser Campbell’s dick off. Now,” he looked back to Her. “Let’s go.” 

She shook her head. She wasn’t fucking breathing. “I- I cant-“ 

“Yes you fucking can,” Homelander hissed. “You’re not mortal anymore, you’re a god like me. None of these weaklings could stop us. Soldier Boy,” he jerked his head at Ben. “Could even come with us. We could be a family.” 

“I’m not going fucking anywhere with you,” Ben could hear the drums. Distant, in his control, but building in time with his heart. “And we are not a fucking family.” 

“But you’re my father,” Homelander shook his head—as if he thought Ben could forget—and whined like a pathetic fucking child. “Don’t you want to meet your grandson? Be there for the birth of our,” he gestured to Her, and Ben was going to rip his fucking hand off. ”Next child? You’d never have to miss anything again. We’d be together.” 

“Homelander,” She was whispering, she was afraid, and Ben couldn’t do more than press his foot into Hers. Show Her he was there. He wasn’t going fucking anywhere. Slowly, her breathing became audible again—even if she remained frozen—and Ben didn’t take his eyes off Homelander. “Please. I just want to talk.” 

“We can talk at home.” Homelander took a step forward, and She flinched. 

“No. Please, I don’t-“ 

“What have they been telling you,” Homelander whirled on Annie and Hughie. “Have you been turning her against me? Poisoning her damn brain against me?” 

“They haven’t,” She pleaded, and that was it. Ben took a long step forward, until he was right at Her side. Homelander was too close, she was fucking breaking, and he’d stay right here until this was over. Then he’d hold Her until she smiled again, even if it took a hundred fucking years. But Homelander wasn’t going to make Her weak. Nobody was allowed to make Her weak, not as long as Ben was fucking alive. “Homelander, I just want to talk-“ 

“Fine,” he turned back to Her, face tight and furious. Glancing once at Ben, now right at Her side, before continuing. “Let’s talk. You’ve been hiding. I’ve been looking for you, and you’ve been hiding from me. They-“ a gloved hand pointed to Annie and Hughie. “Have been hiding you from me. It’s time to be a big girl and stop hiding. Time to come home so I don’t have to keep fucking cleaning up bodies while I look for you.” 

She swallowed. “Bodies?" 

“None of the workers at Tek Knight’s stupid fucking sex club would tell me where you went, so they all had to die. A bunch of fucking Firecracker supporters were demanding justice, so I had to kill them too.” 

“No-“ 

“Please,” Homelander rolled his eyes, taking another step. “It was for you. To protect you. They wanted to fucking draw and quarter you and I stopped them! I saved you, again.” 

“You didn’t save me,” She whispered, taking an unsteady step back. “You hurt me. You-“ She was shaking her head, voice growing louder. “You hurt me. You hurt me.” She was screaming, and Ben had never heard a worse sound. It was shrill, and unsure, and fucking terrified. “You hurt me-“ 

“Oh, grow the fuck up,” Homelander sneered. “You were nothing. You had no one. You’re lucky I even fucking looked at you, let alone saw something of worth! I made you everything you deserved to be, I fucking trusted you with my heart, and you just pulled it out and stomped all over it!” 

“No-“ 

Homelander raised his hand, and She fell silent. She was never fucking silent. “But I forgive you. I’m going to be the bigger person, and forgive you. We both made mistakes, I’m not blameless here, and I forgive you. We’ll get through this,” Homelander lowered his hand for her to take, saying Her name. “We’ll get through this together.” 

“No.” She breathed out. “You hurt me. I’m not going anywhere with you. Ever.” 

Homelander scoffed. “Stop being a fucking whining child,” he said Her name again, and moved forward, She moved back, and Ben blocked Homelander in his path.

Homelander blinked, but the shock on his face barely lasted a second. “You could come with us, Soldier Boy. You don’t have to keep working with those fucking idiots,” he jerked his head to Annie and Hughie in the corner. “Working for William Butcher. He betrayed you before, and he’d do it again. I’d never betray you. I’d make you fucking proud. We just have to leave together.” 

“I will never,” Ben spat, fist clenching at his side. “Be fucking proud of a pussy like you. A weak, spineless, pathetic fucking excuse for a man.” 

Something like hurt flashed across Homelander’s face. He’d thought Ben would agree. He’d thought Ben would fucking hand Her over. Homelander had truly fucking believed that Ben would ever let him fucking near Her again. 

“Fine. Have it your way.” Homelander looked past Ben, and said Her name. “Let’s fucking go. Now.” 

She must have shaken her head—Ben couldn’t turn and look, he couldn’t take his eyes off Homelander for a fucking second—because Homelander’s jaw ticked. 

“Now.” 

“Never.” She hissed. “I’m never fucking going anywhere with you again.” 

“This is your last chance to do this easy.” Homelander snapped. “We can be civilized about this. It doesn’t have to go this way.” 

“You fucking heard the woman,” Ben sneered, and Homelander looked back to him. “No.” 

Homelander sighed. “I didn’t want to do this. I told Sage it wouldn’t be necessary.” 

“Sage?” Her voice shaking. Ben hated not touching her, he hated that Her heart still was weak in her chest, he hated all of this stupid fucking shit plan. 

“I’m going to have to tell her she was right,” Homelander continued, frowning into the air. “She’s such an annoying fucking bitch when she’s right. But if you’re not going to chose the easy way, then let’s do the fucking hard way.” 

Annie was moving slowly from the corner, keeping Hughie behind her. “What the hell are you talking about.” 

“In January, after we found out you,” he gestured at Her. “Were alive, Sage said we’d need a way to eliminate Soldier Boy. I told her that was dumb, that when it came time you’d come back to the right side, to me, your son, but she was a real fucking pest until I agreed to her stupid idea.” The pussy was fucking monologuing, glaring around the room with his hands on his hips and sharp, exasperated movements. “She scheduled the meeting, said it didn’t fucking matter what actually happened as long as she got what she needed. I said you wouldn’t be that stupid, but you were. You told her exactly what that French asshole was using to stop you from going all boom without your leash there with you, and she locked herself in a lab for a whole month. It was unbelievably inconvenient. When she finally came out, she gave me this.” Homelander reached back somewhere, pulling out a small, seemingly empty vial. “And said to use it first chance. I don’t want to use it, but,” he sighed, shaking his head. “If you won’t listen to reason, I have to.” 

“Homelander,” Annie hissed. “What’s in there. What the fuck are you going to do-“ 

“Gas. It’s fucking gas. I was getting there.” Homelander rolled his eyes at Ben. “Women. Always so pushy.” 

The drums were louder. Homelander was only a half step from Ben. Holding gas. His head was pounding, hitting only a half-beat out of time with Ben’s heart. Over the rush of blood in his ears—vision stark and violent and red—Ben could barely hear Her speak. It was under her breath, and barely audible regardless. 

“No.” 

Homelander ignored Her, giving Ben a toothy, awful fucking smile. “Well, I guess I’ll see you in,” he paused, glancing back down at the vial. “Three days? I honestly just couldn't pay attention to Sage’s fucking lecture.” 

Time moved slow. Homelander’s hand went to the vial, the drums were a fraction away from taking over but still too far, and She screamed. A high, loud, raw scream that tore through the world. It might have been a word, or Ben’s name, but it didn’t matter because it was Her. Screaming, fucking breaking. 

The world broke with Her, and something exploded. A bone-rattling sound of destruction echoed through Ben, through Homelander, through everything as the room was almost blindingly lit. The vial cracked open, glass melting in Homelander’s hand, but Ben didn’t pass out. A small wisp of steam pushed into the air, Ben felt faint, and then it was gone. For a split second he could see all of Homelander’s face, with slight wrinkles and lines and wide eyes. Afraid. Homelander was afraid. Frozen, with a parted mouth and a slack face of terror, his gaze fixated just beyond Ben. 

At Her. 

Homelander was blasted backwards—fire arcing through the air and into his chest—and right through the dust-covered, paint-peeling wall. The building rumbled, the air was waving around Ben, and the whole world was electric. He didn’t have to turn to know it was Her. She was burning, and the whole world was singing for Her. It was alive, the air crackling and everything illuminated for Her. 

Ben had never seen anything like Her. All these fucking heroes pranced around like dancing fucking monkey’s, bragging about god-like power and being chosen. Homelander called himself a god. Said nobody was like him, nobody was as powerful as he was. Moaned about how nobody was his equal, how even Ben only just matched his power. Ben could wipe out Homelander’s powers, Homelander could knock out Ben, Ben could punch him and make him bleed and Homelander could leave a temporary cut on Ben’s skin. They could keep trading blows, measuring their dicks, and stand around all fucking day to argue like pussies about who was more powerful. 

Or they could just look at Her. 

Because She was a fucking god. 

Bathed in white flames tinted purple, floating off the ground, and burning. This wasn’t the bomb in Ben’s chest, running through her body like electricity in a wire. This wasn’t heat that lived in Homelander’s eyes, focused and hot but limited. This fire, bright and hot like a hurricane, ripping through the world and everything between it, was Her. Only Her. It wasn’t nuclear, or artificial, or confined. It was wild and feral and pure fucking power. Her. 

Ben had to fucking move. 

“Go!” He shouted the order to Annie and Hughie, still pressed against the wall. “Fucking move! Go!” 

Annie nodded, grabbing Hughie arm and pulling him with her to the exit. They’d start the car, but they wouldn’t leave Her. They might leave Ben, but they wouldn’t leave Her. Nobody with a heart would leave Her. Not ever, not here. Not with Homelander. 

And Ben had to fucking get Her out. Fast. 

Homelander was staggering to his feet—a few yards from the building in the broad daylight—and She had hurt him. She’d fucking marred him. Blond hair was tinted black with ash, one blue eye was milky, and his cruel face was half-melted. Twisted with scars and fucking hideous. 

And She wasn’t done.

She had landed on the ground and shrugged off her jacket—whole body still alight as the world bent and burned around her—before vaulting past Ben, out into the street. He roared Her name after her, but she didn’t look back. Homelander was almost fully stable, touching a hand to where She’d hit him, and Ben had to fucking go.

He followed Her in long, sprinting bounds, and reached them just before Her fist landed. Right on Homelander’s burns, blasting him back another twenty fucking feet. 

Christ, She was fucking perfect. 

Ben reached Her, grabbing her arms and ignoring the pain of the fire against his skin. He healed fast—faster than Homelander—and in the adrenaline he wasn’t able to be certain, but the flames felt duller than usual on his hands. Not meant to hurt him. 

He hissed Her name, trying to pull her with him. Back to the car. “We’ve got to go, right fucking now.”

She yanked Her arm from his grip. “Ryan’s not out.” 

“Ryan?” Ben gaped at Her. “What the fuck-“ 

“The signal didn’t go off. Everyone’s still in the tower. If we leave he goes back to the tower, and we’re assfucked.” 

“I don’t give a shit-“ 

“Ben,” She grabbed his face between Her burning hands, and Ben was goddamn sure it should’ve hurt. But it didn’t, it just felt warm. “This is it. This is what I need to do. And I’m fucking doing it.” 

He couldn’t stop Her. She wasn’t breaking anymore, she wasn’t in danger now—not like She had been before—and Ben was never going to fucking leave Her. “You burn, I burn.” 

She nodded. “Let’s fucking burn.” 

Ben needed to tell Her. She was dropping her arms, turning away, and he needed to tell Her. He was so fucking close to knowing, to being able to recognize that- 

Homelander blasted forward, landing only a few feet from Her and Ben. His words were low, cold. Angry. “You fucking bitch. We’re going to have a very long conversation later about trust-“ 

“Shut the fuck up.” Ben pulled out his gun and shot Homelander right in the fucking mouth. 

It didn’t kill him—they weren’t that lucky—but it worked goddamn wonders in making his words die in his throat. In giving Ben a chance to punch him in the throat, making him cough the bullet out and giving Her a chance to kick him square in the chest. It was a smooth hit, not strong but wrapped in fire that seared right through Homelander’s stupid fucking suit. Ben slammed the blunt end of his shield right into the exposed skin and revered in the sickly crunch of its contact. 

Homelander roared as his eyes began to grow red, aimed at Her, and Ben’s fist was just fucking fast enough to clock Homelander’s jaw. Hard enough to turn his head, to make the laser cut through the air into a glass building. 

She realized it at the same time Ben did, exchanging a simultaneous look of Fuck. We’re outside. 

No casualties, She narrowed her eyes at him. I back Homelander up. You blast him. 

Ben frowned, ducking under a weak punch, thrown by Homelander at what he imagined was supposed to be Ben’s face. You said not now. He didn’t know why the fuck he was arguing with Her. This wasn’t something at all damn worth it. But Ben still waited for Her answer, and the moment She gave the clear, he was going to fucking kill this pussy. 

We’re improvising, Benjamin. Her face was set, determined. Ready? 

Ben nodded, and turning to see Homelander right in his fucking face. Up close, even as the lasers built in Homelander’s eyes, the state of his wound was fucking disgusting. 

“I fucking-“ 

There was no chance to find out exactly what Homelander was fucking, because She dove at him—face wrathful, a fucking inferno—and they went flying through the air. Over the street, away from the gathered pedestrians, onto the manicured lawn of Vought Tower. People were screaming, scrambling away, and those already on the sidelines were watching through phones, flinching as Ben stalked past them. She could hold Her own, but he needed to get there. Get to Her. 

The grass of the lawn was smoking, and Ben felt like he was walking through a goddamn swamp as he approached them. She had twisted around—onto Homelander’s back with Her arms locked around his throat—and was growing brighter and brighter as his bellows turned strangled and choked. The pussy still had to fucking breathe like anyone else, but smoke was curling into his lungs as Her arms burned through his throat. 

Good. 

The drums were back, building and building, and light was starting to shine in Ben’s chest. He had a shot. A clear fucking shot. He’d hit Her, but she’d be fine, and then she’d be safe forever. 

Any hesitation—weak and fearful for Her at the top of Ben’s chest—was killed when She looked at him. 

Do it. 

The drums fell into time, and Ben’s vision went white. Homelander’s roar sounded through the air, and the world became something far away as the bomb went off. Ripping through Ben’s chest with a vengeance, through the air with an atomic boom. 

When the world became clear, Homelander wasn’t ash or a mortal body on the floor. He was gone. They were both gone. 

Ben screamed Her name. It wasn’t a roar, or a bellow, or a growl, or anything other than a scream. Where the fuck did She go. Why wasn’t She here, with him. Ben had failed Her, he had fucking failed her, and he couldn’t hear Her heart or see her beautiful face and where the goddamn fucking hell was She-

He could hear his name. Her voice, carried on the wind, was yelling his name. Ben looked up, just in time to see Her falling from the sky, a quickly dying comet, just a few feet to his left. 

Ben caught Her, shield clattering to the ground. He’d always fucking catch Her. And when their bodies collided, Ben could feel Her. Afraid. Every fiber and cell of Her body and mind, made of pure, unbridled fucking fear. Frozen fear, hollow and frigid in Her body. 

When She spoke, Her voice wasn’t full and furious anymore. “He took off, took me with him. I burned his dick and he dropped me, but he’ll be back-“ 

“Let’s fucking go,” Ben didn’t release Her, turning back to the Starlight Fund. If he was fast, fucking ran, they could get the fuck out now because Ben wasn’t going to survive another goddamn second of there being a chance he could lose Her. Not when he was certain this was Her fear in him. 

But She tugged at his arms, trying to get out of his hold. “Ryan, we need to make sure Ryan’s out-“ 

“No-“ 

“Ben, please.” She squeezed his bicep, and Ben looked down at Her. Safe, unharmed in his arms. He couldn’t fucking lose Her- “We just need to keep him occupied. I’ll be fine.” 

“You’re out of fire-“ 

“It’ll come back,” She didn’t sound sure. “I’m fine, he didn’t get me-“ 

“That was too fucking close-“ 

“Ben,” She was pleading, tugging at his shirt. “We have to. You promised-“ 

He snapped Her name. “You’re in danger-“ 

“I’ll go. I’ll go find them in the tower, and you keep Homelander here. Please. We don’t have time to argue-“ 

He wanted to tell Her no. Ben wanted to tell her that’s fucking insane, stay here, or don’t goddamn leave, don’t fucking go where I can’t follow you. But she was so fucking stubborn. It was one of the infinite things he loved about Her, but fuck it was pissing him off. She wouldn’t leave—be useless as She’d call it—and Ben couldn’t let Her fight Homelander. Not when he could feel her painful fear, and there wasn’t even smoke in the air. So he grunted, lowering Her onto the sidewalk. 

“Thank you,” She whispered, and that deep thing in Her eyes was back. It was in Ben, now, and it was peaceful and eternal in his brain. It was so strong, and wrapped around Ben’s every sense, making the world clear and everything alive. 

“Wait,” Ben grabbed Her arm, stopping her just a second. “Take this.”

She blinked at Ben’s gun, shoved into Her hand, before looking back to him with a nod. “I’ll see you soon.” 

“Stay safe.” He muttered, and She gave him a small smile. 

“I always do, Ben.” 

The thing he couldn’t understand inside of Her was bigger than the world. A world that, for a second, was just them. Her, fucking perfect, and Ben. With Her. When She started to walk away, into the tower, the whole world was going with Her. 

She looked back at him once, and Ben realized that the Thing had said it. Somewhere, when She had been in his arms, the Thing had found words and he couldn’t fucking remember what they were. He had to focus, to grab them back to him so he yell them after Her, so she could hear- 

Homelander dropped with a crack on the pavement, and the Thing’s moment of clarity was gone.

Now Ben had a fucking job to do. 

He was brutal. This wasn’t the fucking time to pull punches, to feel anything outside of hatred or a thirst for blood. Ben had to keep Homelander here, and he would. He would beat him fucking bloody until he was just a pathetic, whimpering fucking pile of bones and skin. People were filming, and he’d let them. Everyone should see Ben paint Homelander’s brain across the street with his shield—back in his hand—and there should be evidence of Ben peeling Homelander's burnt face off his skull. Everyone should witness how fucking weak Homelander really was, how fucking useless and desperate and evil. Homelander tried to jab at him—tried to mock him or ask where She’d gone—but all of Ben’s already thin patience was gone. He wanted Homelander to hurt, hurt the way Ben had felt Her hurt. He couldn’t take Her pain and put it into Homelander, so bashing his head open was the second best option. 

And Ben was winning. Homelander landed a few weak blows and Ben got scorched with one or two lasers he wasn’t able to dodge, but Ben was fucking winning. He’d have to thank Her, later, for how thoroughly she’d ruined Homelander’s face. Ben was pretty sure the fucker was—at least temporarily—blind in one eye. He was slower to block, turning his head more than he should, and it gave Ben a few extra hits right into his ugly fucking face. Homelander kept trying to grab something, scramble for a gun or some shit, but it wouldn’t matter. Ben was fucking winning. He’d knock the pussy unconscious and go home. Maybe even fucking kill him- 

Homelander’s mauled face shot up, and he was gone. Fucking blasting into the sky, fleeing like a goddamn coward, and Ben let him. He could’ve grabbed Homelander’s cape, pulled him back down, but the job was done. People were scattering away with screams at the remaining rumbles of an explosion Ben could only assume was the French Prick’s signal echoed through the city. He’d heard it go off, only a minute ago, but hadn’t fucking cared. Not when he could just keep hurting Homelander. And now Ben was left in the crowded street with a bunch of fucking idiots filming him. Flinching and scrambling away when he turned back to the Fund as part of his brain still looked for Her. In the crowd, somewhere off to the side, or in the remains of the Starlight Fund. He was searching for Her smile, her sharp eyes, just some sign she was there. 

Ben saw Her sunglasses. That was the only evidence that She had been here. There was smoldering wreckage and burnt grass, small fires clustered around the ruins and on the street, but this was evidence of Her. Of the perfect woman who laughed with him and never fucking faltered. 

They were broken. Tinted blue glass on the floor and bent frames. She was going to be really fucking pissed about that. For reasons Ben didn’t understand, She loved those stupid sunglasses. 

He’d buy Her new ones. He’d make sure Mallory finally started paying them, and Ben would buy her a million fucking off-brand Soldier Boy sunglasses. 

Annie and Hughie were in the car. Nobody had followed Ben into the ally—one very stupid kid had tried, but scrambled away at Ben’s glare—so Ben dropped into the backseat of the car. Alone. 

Hughie looked at him in the rearview mirror. “Uh, where-“ 

“She went after Butcher.” Ben snapped. “She’ll meet us there. Fucking go.” 

Annie and Hughie exchanged looks, and Annie pulled out her phone. Swiping through it, glancing up around Ben nervously until she found whatever the fuck she was looking for. 

“Butcher says they’re out with Ryan, and everyone’s heading back.” She showed the screen to Hughie, and he nodded. “We should go.” 

“That’s what I fucking said.” Ben muttered, and tried not to look at the place beside him. Where She’d usually be, rolling Her eyes or calling him a grump. 

The car ride back was long. Fucking longer than the car ride there. Time was stretching, fucking crawling so slow without Her there. Ben had been away from Her for less than a damn hour, and he missed Her. He missed Her so fucking much. A year ago, he’d have called himself a pussy. He’d have scoffed, sneered that he was fucking Soldier Boy. He shouldn’t miss anyone. People should miss him, and be thankful he ever looked at them in the first place. But Ben a year ago hadn’t met Her. He didn’t get it. That She was beautiful, and brilliant, and had the smartest fucking mouth he’d ever heard. That She felt like heaven and hell and Ben didn’t want to exist without Her. If being a pussy for this one perfect woman was the price Ben had to pay to have Her, he’d pay it. He’d pay anything. 

She wasn’t answering Ben’s texts. He’d messaged Her, asked her if everyone was in one piece or giving her shit for going off book, and She hadn’t answered. But that didn’t mean a fucking thing, because She kept her phone in Her jacket, which was currently smoldering ash in the remains of the Starlight Fund. He’d buy Her a new phone as well. And fucking punch Mallory in her wrinkled, sour face if they got any shit about Her destroying another phone. 

Annie and Hughie weren’t trying to talk to him. At some point Annie had put on Billy Joel, and Ben let her. He hadn’t hated his music, in the 80s, and knew that She just liked music. Any music. So it made it a little easier to pretend She was here. To pretend something wasn’t growing sick inside of Ben. 

Even as it started to rot. As everything started to feel wrong. 

Ben didn’t wait for the car to fully stop before opening the door. He didn’t even bother to grab his shield. Nobody else could pick it up anyway. Hughie gave a weak protest as he stepped out, but Ben saw Annie shake her head in his periphery and Hughie’s mouth snapped shut. It was a smart fucking choice. 

She’d had the keycard. The door was locked and She had taken the keycard. So Ben had to wait—glowering at the parked Pussy Mobile a few spots down from Butcher’s car—for Annie and Hughie to let him in. Stand behind them stiffly in the elevator with his arms crossed, and just fucking wait. 

“Butcher said we’d debrief in the dining hall,” Hughie mumbled. “I don't think he's happy with us. With the whole, uh, fighting Homelander thing.”

Butcher could fucking suck Ben’s dick. 

The doors opened, and Ben shoved his way out of the elevator, not waiting for Hughie or Annie to keep up. His steps were long, stomping, and fast—almost a full run—but there was no fucking time. He needed to see Her. He needed to see Her right fucking now- 

He shoved the doors open, marched into the dining hall, and froze. 

Butcher and the Kid were at the table, MM and Mallory sitting across from them, their backs to Ben. Kimiko and the French Prick were at the other end of the table, in a silent conversation. There were four empty seats between them and the larger group. Two for Annie and Hughie. Two for Ben and Her. 

But She wasn’t fucking there. 

And Ben couldn’t hear Her heart. 

“Where is she,” Ben growled, and Butcher looked up at him. 

“Good work to you too, you dumb fucking cunt-“ 

“Shut the fuck up,” Ben hissed. There wasn’t fucking time for this. “Where the fuck is she.” 

MM turned, frowning at Ben. “Who the hell-“ 

Ben roared Her name as Hughie and Annie pushed into the room, their hearts faltering behind him. Seeing what Ben saw. “Where the goddamn fucking hell is she!” 

Mallory was looking at him now, lips in a thin line, words clipped. “She was supposed to be with you-“

“I fucking know that!” Ben’s voice might be shaking the building. “She went inside the Tower, to find you fucking pussies. Where the hell is she?” 

“We,” MM blinked at him. “We haven’t seen her. She was supposed to be with you.” 

“Oh, shit.” Hughie whispered, and the room fell silent. 

The world was fucking ending. This was the judgement day, or apocalypse, or end of days or fucking something, because She was gone. She was gone. She’d disappeared into the fucking Tower, and she was in danger. Ben had let Her go into the tower, Ben had fucking failed Her. He should’ve gone with Her, he should’ve kept Her there and trusted her to fight, he should never have let Her go alone. She’d told him not to leave her alone, Ben had promised to keep Her safe, and now She was fucking gone. He’d failed. And nothing fucking mattered expect getting Her back. 

Ben turned roughly around to Hughie, extending an arm. “Give me the fucking keys.”

Hughie blinked at him. “Uh, why?” 

“To drive the damn car.” Ben snapped. He didn’t have the goddamn time for this shit. She was in fucking danger. “I’m going to get her. Fucking keys. Now.” 

Hughie was fumbling in his pocket—apparently not a complete fucking dumbass—but froze at Mallory’s cold words. “You’re going to stay here, Soldier Boy, until you receive further orders.” 

Ben didn’t bother to turn around. “Shove it up your ass, you fucking bitch. Keys.” 

“We don’t know where She is,” Annie said carefully. “She could’ve left the tower, could be coming back here-“ 

“Or she could be in fucking danger.” Ben’s voice was rising to a shout. “Give me the fucking keys-“ 

“Lad, if you give Soldier Boy my fuckin keys, I’ll shoot you.” 

Ben whirled to Butcher. “Shut the fuck up, you useless fucking pussy. Does fucking nobody,” he scowled around the room. “Give fuck about her but me? Do none of you care that you just fucking abandoned her?” 

You abandoned Her. It echoed in his brain, twisting around his throat. You failed Her. You left Her. 

“Of course we care,” MM snapped. “But I have to be with Butcher on this. She could be anywhere-“ 

“So fucking find her!” Ben bellowed. How could none of them fucking get it, fucking understand that She was lost, gone, alone, afraid. In fucking danger. “If you care, get off your asses and fucking find her!” 

“Frenchie,” Butcher stood, glaring at Ben. “Take Ryan to his room.” 

Ben looked away from Butcher just long enough to see the Kid watching him with wide, fearful eyes as the French Prick herded him past Ben, out the door. He glanced at Kimiko—still sat at the end of the table—and she was frowning at him. Signing something Ben didn’t fucking understand. She’d have understood. 

He looked back to Butcher, and spoke through gritted teeth. “I’m finding her. Good luck trying to fucking stop me.” 

“We will bloody find her,” Butcher snapped. “But we ain’t going to do it in a day. She’s probably fuckin fine-“ 

“She was in the fucking Tower. Are you that fucking stupid-“ 

“I ain’t stupid. I’m a realist.” Butcher held Ben’s murderous glare. “Like she is. We’ll find her, now sit the fuck down.” 

“Don’t pretend like you fucking know her. Like you’re fucking buddies and you know what she’d want-“ Kimiko was waving at Ben, trying to get his attention as he roared, and he shot her a withering glower. “What fuck is wrong with you?” 

She pointed to her phone, and reached it out for Ben to take. He snatched it from her hands—slightly thrown by the seemingly genuine sympathy and worry across her face—and looked at the screen. 

BREAKING NEWS: Vought Announces that the Homelander’s girlfriend has been recovered from Soldier Boy’s captivity.

He’d failed Her. In the worst possibly way, Ben had compelety fucking failed Her. 

The glass cracked in Ben’s grip, and he chucked the phone at Butcher. “Is that fucking enough to get you to move your pathetic fucking pussy asses, and fucking save her?” 

MM leaned over Butcher’s shoulder, reading the screen. “Fuck.” 

“What’s-“ 

Hughie’s confused words were cut off as Annie shuffled behind Ben, “I’ll check-“ Ben heard her swallow. “Oh, shit.” 

“Jesus,” Hughie whispered, and Ben’s skin crawled. Why the fuck were they just standing here. Why weren’t they moving. Fucking saving Her. 

Butcher only stared at the screen with a scowl, and Mallory stood to read the headline as well. 

“Butcher,” she said slowly. “This is-“ 

“Changes nothing.” Butcher tossed the phone back to Kimiko. “We keep on the fuckin track.” 

Ben’s whole world froze with wrath. Locking him in place. Spinning him around, stabbing into his chest, making the world painful. 

“Are you fucking insane?” Annie shouted from behind Ben. “She’s-“ 

“Nothing.” Butcher snapped. “We’ll get her back when Homelander’s in the bloody ground.” 

“Butcher, even for you-“ 

“This ain’t about me.” Butcher hissed over MM. “It’s about her.” 

“She’s not going to be our man on the inside, you psychopath!” Annie shouted. “She a fucking victim-“ 

“If we go now, Starlight, the bloody hell you think will happen?” Butcher leered at Annie, over Ben. Still unmoving, unable to move as the drums echoed in his head. “We’ll storm the fuckin castle and Homelander will just hand her over?” 

“We could,” Hughie protested, voice weak. “I mean, that’s kind of how we just got Ryan-“ 

“Homelander ain’t stupid, he’s not fallin for that trick two times in a row.” Butcher turned back to Ben. “If you’re that much of a whipped fucking idiot, Gov, we can go right now. I’ll even bloody drop you off. But they’ll see us comin, and Homelander will blast her far, far away. You wouldn’t ever even fuckin see her again.” 

“Butcher-“ 

“Let the man answer Grace.” Butcher held Ben’s gaze. “We ain’t going to stop him if he leaves, or goes after her. It’ll be her bloody funeral. Not ours.” 

He could. Ben could leave right fucking now, and find her, and then they’d leave together. He’d keep Her safe forever, do fucking anything to make her forgive him for failing her.

But a voice that sounded like Hers echoed through his brain. 

Don’t be a dumbass, Benjamin. Butcher’s right, which is annoying because now he’s going to be a cunt about it. But he’s right. 

You’ll find me. You’ll always find me, I trust you. 

I’ll see you soon. 

Butcher read Ben’s answer on his face, and nodded. “Right choice, Gov.” Something passed over Butcher’s feature, something a lot more human than Ben had ever seen. Almost understanding, almost pained. “She’s a clever lady. She’ll get through this.” 

She’ll get back to you. 

And Ben would be here. He’d get Her back, and be here to hold her and burn with her when she returned to him. 

He’d kill Homelander, and never fail Her again. 

——————

Something is wrong. 

Something is very, very wrong. 

Your eyes are closed, but nothing around you is warm. Everything is freezing, the blankets are silk instead of cotton, there’s a strange smell of factory-made coconut in the air, and you’re alone. Ben isn’t here. 

That’s what’s wrong. 

Ben isn’t here. 

You’re suddenly afraid to open your eyes. You don’t remember what happened, you don’t know where you are, and Ben isn’t here. Your mind is moving slower than you need it to, trying to pull back bits and pieces to figure out what happened. Rolling a loop of where are you, why isn't Ben here.

Why does everything feel so wrong. 

You ran into the Tower. You know that much, Ben had given you his gun and you’d ran into the Tower before Homelander could return. You’d almost said it, he’d looked at you like you were his whole world and you almost let yourself say Ben. Ben, I love you. But that had felt final. You didn’t want final, you wanted Ben. So you’d just left. 

You’d told Ben you’d find Butcher. You’d meant to find Butcher. You swear, now, in this strange cold place, that you’d really meant to just find Butcher. But you hadn’t. The blueprints of Vought tower had flashed in your head, along with a small, persistent voice asking you Where was Sage? In all of this, with you and Ben destroying the front lawn, where was Sage? 

There was a security room on the first floor. Actually, there were two security rooms on the first floor. One was labeled such, with faded notes about electrical wiring scratched onto the copy Mallory had shown everyone. The other was identical, with no notes but the same design, labeled office 2. 

You hadn’t been able to find an office 1. Only an office 2. 

So you’d headed there first. 

The door was locked, and your fire wasn’t coming. Homelander had taken you into the sky, higher and higher and away with hands gripping your arm around him, and everything had frozen. It wasn’t the chill of the high wind, it was your blood, your skin, your head. Everything became cold and the fire had started to flicker, all your control over it waning. You’d told Ben you’d hit Homelander’s dick, but he’d just dropped you. He’d made a surprised sound from his throat you’d never heard, and his arms had grown slack around you. You’d pushed off of him and fallen, any fire left dying as you’d dropped through the air. And now it was asleep. Not gone. Still under your skin, still running through your body in the way you’d come to trust, but dormant. Unwilling to come out, even when you’d desperately needed it. 

So you’d shot the handle off. 

You remember that clearly. You’d looked around the hallway, empty as people either hid from Ben and Homelander or went to watch them, thought fuck it, and shot Ben’s gun. 

The door had swung open, and Sage had been right where you expected her. 

She hadn’t turned from the monitors, and said your name in a bored tone. “You’re early.” 

“I’m early,” you’d repeated, raising the gun to a mediocre aim at Sage’s head. You remember wondering if Ben would cum on the spot if you asked him to teach you how to properly use a gun. “There’s no possible way you planned this.” 

Sage had shrugged. “It was more of an outline. A hypothetical. One of many. I honestly didn’t think you’d go with this option, but here we are.”

“Which one did you think we’d go with?” You’d been unable to help yourself from asking. You’d had to know just how predictable your plans were, so you could adjust. Be more erratic. Maybe you’d put Butcher in a dress, really have fun with it. 

She’d turned, spun in her chair to look at you with a small, cold smile. “My money was on you sacrificing yourself, trading yourself in. Didn’t anticipate Soldier Boy stopping you, but I’ve adapted. And now we’re here.” 

“What the fuck are you talking about.” Your hands had been shaking, and you’d looked behind Sage at the monitors. You could see Ben and Homelander on the lawn, and—running through a polished hallway—your team. With Ryan Butcher, failing to shoot at a single camera. You'd yell at Butcher about that later, when this was done. This was almost done.

“In January, when we met for the first time, you confused me.” Sage had tilted her head at you. “That’s impressive. Nobody confuses me. Once I’d found out who exactly you were, Homelander selectively filling in pieces as I figured out the rest myself, I still didn’t fully understand. Once again, impressive.” 

“Oh, gee, thanks.” You’d kept your eyes on Sage, but clocked every movement on the monitors. So close. “You really know how to make a girl blush.” 

“I’m serious. I couldn’t figure you out. You should’ve run when you got out. You’re a smart woman, you should’ve run. But you didn’t, which displays remarkable stupidity. You’d aligned with William Butcher, but seemed to hold qualms with his methods. And your deal with Soldier Boy, the cherry on top. In January you were,” She’d paused, frowned at you before continuing. “Strange. Not friends, not quite, but not simply hateful. Certainly not apathetic. Enough for me to worry about Soldier Boy truly being a problem. And then, by the end of the same month, he seemed to truly care for you. If anything, you managed to baffle me more.” 

“If you say impressive again,” you’d snapped at her. “I’ll fucking shot you.” 

“And you’re much more violent than I anticipated. Yet another thing that threw me, because all signs would point to you being a pacifist. But I figured it out. I found the thing I’d been missing. The club-“ She sighed at your shocked expression. “Please don’t get caught on that. I was separated from Vought for over a decade, I am well aware of the Renegade Room. I haven’t told Homelander about it, I won’t, but I’m aware. Of the club, and your plan with Butcher. That helped me figure it out. You care. About humans, about everyone. No matter how they treat you, how they collectively wrong you and fail you, you care.” 

You’d shrugged. “Kant said never to treat people as means to an end.” 

“Kant also said man must be disciplined.” Sage had shot back. “But you’re not interested in that. You’re forgiving. You tried to discipline Soldier Boy, but then you let him stop you. I didn’t think anything would stop you. I’m still trying to piece that part together fully, but I know how to adapt to an empty picture. I know, for all your care, something with Soldier Boy is different. And you can stop looking at the monitors.” 

You’d blinked at her. “The monitors-“ 

“I know Butcher has Homelander’s son. I’ve sent people to collect them. Right now this is about you. You, Homelander, and Soldier Boy. See,” she’d looked at the monitors with narrowed eyes. “Sometimes I outdo even myself. When I developed the gas for Soldier Boy, I didn’t think it would be this important. But, fuck, those months in the lab around about to pay off. Because-“ 

Hindsight coming to you now, you probably should’ve let Sage finish her speech. Figured out how this was going to pay off for her, and how it probably wasn’t in your favor. But you remember hearing people to collect them and gas for Soldier Boy and a ringing sound starting in your ears. So you’d shot Sage in the face. 

This part was harder to remember. This part felt painful. 

You think you’d sat in the chair. Pushed Sage’s body to the floor and sat. Or maybe you’d just stood at her side. Or behind the chair. 

No matter what, you’d looked at the monitors. You’d seen Noir and The Deep. Not being distracted by A-Train, but running through a hall that looked far too similar to the one your team was in. You’d stopped them. Somehow you’d stopped them because you remember the relief when they turned around. It might have been a phone call, maybe there was a walkie talkie, but it didn’t matter because you’d stopped them. And Ryan had gotten out. 

Then you’d seen Ben and Homelander, still fighting. Ben throwing steady, powerful punches and slamming his shield into Homelander’s body. Then you’d see Homelander reach for something. 

The gas. 

Homelander had been reaching for more gas. And Ben hadn’t been seeing it. 

You’d screamed. You’d grabbed Sage’s phone, or walkie talkie, or just screamed louder. Loud enough to be heard. 

You were in the Vought building. Alone. Homelander could come find you. 

And then Sage had stood up, and you’d been confused. You’d definitely just shot her. 

She’d pulled out a vial. 

And now you were here. 

In Vought Tower. Or a warehouse. Or a lab. Or underground.

Cold. 

Alone. 

You aren’t chained to anything. Your mouth has a gag around it, so you can’t speak, but you can move. You’re dressed. No shoes, but a shirt, loose pants. Underwear. You can’t hear anyone, only the hum of a fan. A lot of fans. It’s really, really cold. 

If Sage sent you here, she should know better. She should know cold doesn't matter. Your fire came from you, not the air around you. You could, if you tried, burn all of the arctic circle while standing at the north pole. But it was still so cold. 

And bright. When you peel your eyes open, blinking and wiping at them—your hands are cuffed and wrapped in big red mittens, so you can’t really accomplish much with them—the room is almost blinding. It might be because of how long you were out, how your head was pounding and aching when you’d woken, but it was so bright. 

You don’t recognize the room. Your eyes adjust quickly, the pounding is already gone and your exhaustion is leaving fast, but you can’t figure out where you are. It wasn’t the white room, or a new lab, but an apartment. A truly awfully decorated apartment, where everything was glossy marble and silk and sleek furniture that didn’t look usable in any way. The bed you’re on is low, the frame made of iron and the mattress feeling like it’s sinking into the floor. It’s not bright anymore, not as the effects of Sage’s gas—what you were assuming was Sage’s gas—were dissipating by the second. It’s low lit, too low lit. Everything is cast in a yellow glow, and the lamps and ceiling lights feel like they’re more for pure decoration than actual practical use. Another part of this hideous, unnerving picture. There’s a lot of red. A lot of white. A lot of blue.

Your heart drops. Deep into your stomach where it churns around with bile and fear. You know where you are. You know exactly where you are. Everything is too clean, too modern, and too impractical. Like it’s been designed to be gaudy, high-brow, and ostentatious. There’s a white marble statue of a bald eagle, and a painting of George Washington on the Delaware that you hope isn’t an original. 

But it could be. Because this is Homelander’s room. 

You need to run. Your hands are confined and your fire is asleep, but your feet aren’t chained. So you can run. Or jump out a window. Homelander’s room is on 99—you remember from the blueprints: floor 99, south facing quadrant, next to Maeve’s old room and Noirs’ current one—but you’d survive the fall. You’d survive anything. But you have to go. You have to push through the sick and crippling feeling that’s growing like mold in your body, through the sheer cold in your blood that’s trying to root you in place, and run. 

Rolling off the bed is easy. Getting your legs to stop shaking is harder, and taking steps without collapsing is near impossible. But you have to run. You can break when you’re home, when you’re safe and Homelander can’t find you again. 

You can fucking do this. You steady your body, and take a long breath. You’re strong. You’ve escaped him once before. And done a lot of other, crazier shit. At this point it’s just another Tuesday. 

It’s a Friday. A small voice—bored and petulant—reminds you. And you were in a lab upstate. This is Vought Tower. You’ve never escaped Vought Tower.  

Shut the fuck up. This voice isn’t yours. It’s deep, and always a little gruff, even as it encourages you. You’re strong, Sunshine. You’re a spiteful, brilliant, angry pain in the ass. You can fucking do this. 

You’re strong. You can fucking do this. 

You’re going to jump out the window. 

Getting out of the room is simple but difficult, and getting down the stairs is fast. You fall, tumbling down the steps and landing on the floor with a crunch, but the adrenaline makes it painless and whatever broke is already healed. You half-crawl, half stumble to the windows. Wide, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the New York skyline. You can’t really see the street below you. 

This is going to really fucking hurt. 

Two steps back. Actually, four steps back. Enough to get a running start. Breathe in, out. You’ll be fine. And if it kills you, it kills you. 

Anything would be better than this. 

You’ve taken three steps when something grabs the back of your shirt, halting you. You scream into the gag, and a red gloved hand covers your mouth. 

“It’s just me,” Homelander hisses in your ear, and you stop fighting. Your whole body shuts down into the cold, and you can’t scream, or sob, or do anything but let Homelander drag you back and throw you onto the long, stiff couch.  

You can’t look at him. Looking at him makes this real. 

He notices, and jerks your chin to force your eyes to meet his. Colder than the room, full of malice and something that might be his version of hurt. Blue. You fucking hate blue. 

“You weren’t going to try and jump?” Homelander’s voice sounds genuinely disbelieving. “I mean,” he laughs your name, and you want to throw up. “Even for you that’s drastic.” 

He doesn’t know you. He doesn’t know what’s drastic for you and what’s not. But you can’t even glare at him, because all your energy is starting to fade, weighing you down like stones filling up your lungs. 

Homelander sighs. “I mean, you’ve already hurt my feelings enough for today.” His grip on your face might crack bone. “Stealing my son,” he gestures to his face, still bubbling with burn scars. “Doing fucking this to me. I mean, what did they do to you? To make you do this to me?” 

He sounds like he’s going to cry. You don’t care.

“Well,” he stands up, releasing your face and frowning down at you with his hands on his hips. “It doesn’t matter now. We’ll fix it. It’s fine your little plan worked, because it brought you back to me. And we’ll get Ryan back, together, once you’re less,” he sighs, waving a hand. “Fucking broken. This time will be different, I won’t keep you two apart. That was wrong, and I’m sorry.”

You just look at him, and his face twists into a sneer. 

“I said I’m sorry. It’s your turn.” 

You have a fucking gag over your mouth. And, even with the fear making everything too loud and bright and blurry, you’d never apologize to Homelander. He’ll have to kill you first. 

His glower fades in a second when he remembers the gag. “Oh, well, I’m going to pretend you apologized, because I can’t really take your gag off. Not while you’re still,” he spins a finger around near his head with a whistle. “Cuckoo. You get it, it’s just a precaution. I mean,” he laughs. “We can’t have you doing your little reality warping trick when you’re still loosing your fucking mind!” 

It’s not reality warping. It’s sensory manipulation. And for some reason that starts to set steel in your body. You’re not losing your mind. You’re not unstable or drastic. It’s fucking sensory manipulation, and your plan worked. Homelander had said Ryan was gone, and you’d done that—ruined Homelander’s picture perfect, all-American face—because you hated him. The fear wasn’t leaving, but it wasn’t growing anymore. And you could glare at Homelander. Let all your hatred, your hatred, not anyone else’s but yours, show across your face. 

“Oh, don’t give me that look!” Homelander huffs with an eye roll. “It’s temporary. Just until I can trust you again! We’re going to do this right this time, we’re going to do us right this time, and once we’ve rebuilt our trust I won’t have to take these kind of precautions. They’re fucking annoying for me, too. This isn’t just about you.” 

You just glare. 

“I mean, you can’t be that mad. You’d do the same thing, if you were in my shoes.” Homelander leans over you, studying your face. “I’m not letting you go this time. Everyone’s going to know you fucking belong to me. I mean, we’re made for each other.” He laughs again, and it’s horrible. It’s joyless and mocking and scraping around your insides painfully. “I mean, you were a good option for me before the V. Smart, pretty, good genetics, more compliant than Becca Butcher, less annoying and weird than Stormfront. You’d never be as mean to me as they were. For Christ’s sake, Stormfront killed herself on my fucking birthday! Did I tell you that? How fucking mean!” 

He’d told you that. Homelander had visited you that day, and asked you if you’d ever do that him. You’d said you would, because you had to and part of you had hoped he’d just leave. He hadn’t. 

“But you’d never do that to me. And after the V?” He grins at you, and it makes the scars look uglier. “You’re almost as strong as me! All those fucking nerds said one shot was going to kill you, but you survived four!” He leans over you, making you crane your neck with a rough hand. “Did I ever tell you that? One V shot should’ve killed you, and you definitely shouldn’t have lived through two. One of those scientists kept trying to tell me that you were growing more powerful and unstable each time, that we should fucking quit while we’re ahead, but I believed in you. And now look at you. My equal.” He shrugs. “Or at least fucking close to it. Closer than Maeve, closer than Stormfront, closer than anyone. Which is why I forgive you, and now I’m going to do this right.” 

He keeps saying that. Keeps saying he’s going to do this right. You don’t know what that means. 

“Sage already announced you’ve come home. I would’ve done it, but,” he gestures to his face, and some sort of twisted satisfaction runs through you. “I could just wait it out, but you’re up before we thought you’d be, so you can fix it.” He grabs one of your hands and starts to undo the cuff, but pauses. “If you need an incentive to behave, let me just remind you that you won’t make it out the door. You’re strong, but I’m fucking stronger. You can run, but I’ll knock you down. You’re staying with me. All the fucking worms who tried to keep you away from me won’t be able to this time. Butcher can try and come get you, but I’ll just kill him and his whole merry band of idiots. They send Soldier Boy, and we’ll knock him out. Sage has wired the whole building for it, just in case. You don’t have to worry about that, but you should know. Trust.” Homelander pulls off the wrapping on one hand, raising to his face. “You’re never fucking getting away from me again. Now fix what you did.” 

The fire is back. It’s woken up—not at full power but more than enough—coursing through your whole body as Homelander words rattled around your head. They’ll knock Ben out. They’ll kill your team. 

You could run. Homelander’s moving your hand against his skin, and you could burn him and run. 

But you touch him, your skin on his, and suddenly you’re afraid. 

It’s not your fear. Your fear is freezing, made of panic and memories. This fear is foreign, hostile in your body, made of something vile and strange. This fear is buried deep, deep down, and strong. This fear is parasitic. This is Homelander’s fear. 

Homelander’s afraid. 

Of you. 

And in a split second, you make a choice. 

You had a plan for this. In the back of your head, you’d buried a plan. You’d never wanted to use it, you’d never told anyone you had it, you’d even pretended it wasn’t there so you could sleep at night. 

You could run. You could leave and go back to Ben and warn him that they had more gas, warn Butcher that Sage was planning something, because you were certain she was. But you didn’t know what. 

And you had a plan. 

Ben was going to kill you. You were going to kill you. As Homelander’s face healed under your hands and your own face grew raw and painful, you hated yourself. You wanted to leave. You wanted to go home, back to Ben, and just leave. But the fire was settling quietly back into your body, silent and cold once more as your choice became set. 

Homelander was right. This wasn’t about you. This was about the world, and making it safe. This was about trusting that Butcher wouldn’t let Ben come find you, as much as you wanted him to. Every part of your heart wanted Ben to burst through the door, pick you up, and take you away. Anywhere that wasn’t here, and you’d tell him you loved him and he wouldn’t leave. But you’d promised to keep him awake, and if he came to save you he’d go under. He wasn’t going under. And, as much of a prick as Butcher was, he’d know to keep Ben away. And you’d get back to Ben. Soon. But right now this wasn’t about you. 

Here were the cards you’d been dealt. Here was your shot at the devil. 

You weren’t going to miss.

End Note: I know y’all hate me now, but please let me cook. I swear I'm not a sadist and this is going somewhere. Remember the agreement we made that you didn’t know about; you GOTTA trust. 

Please, please, please leave a comment if you want to! Never be afraid it’s too long or too short and think I won’t read it. Every single one means the whole world to me, whether it’s a thought on an older chapter or a predication about the next one. No matter what you’re telling me, feedback or jokes or opinions, you will ALWAYS make my day. Cuss me out for this chapter, ask my why the hell I hate love, tell me about your day, no matter what I want to hear it <3. See you in Angst-town USA, population us, for chapter 17.

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[heartfullofleeches]

So considering that Leech Darling is a mermaid/lake monster type thing I imagine that they… don’t really wear any clothes and the first and only time Yan Dentist tried to dress Darling up they freaked out and nearly bit the dentists arm off (I do like to think though that Darling specifically has that design thing where their hair is so long and thick that it just sort of naturally falls over and covers their more intimate parts so they aren’t just crawling around with all of themselves directly on display, that’s more of a personal headcanon though)

Since leeches breath through their skin, clothing would probably make Leech Darling uncomfortable beyond a personal dislike. They wouldn't fuss as much if it's something light and breathable, but heavy clothes or having to wearing them in stuffy areas is a big no. Yan Dentist is invited to bring their spouse to a party at the office and bundles Leech Darling up which they seem fine with... Until they're stuck in that dreadful building with the broken A.C.

-

"Love?.....Is there something wrong?"

The leech squirms - fingers clawing, yanking at the collar of their shirt. Their breathes become labored, chest rising and falling sporadically as they struggle. The dentist doesn't understand - they were fine just minutes ago. Ever since they walked into the office, their love has acted strange. The human wipes sweat from their brows....

"Are.... Are you overheating? My love, I'm so sorry! Here, I have some water from your lake in my-"

The leech raids the dentist's pockets - ripping the lid from the flask and dumping the water over their exposed chest. Their shoulders slump, soft purrs bubbling from its throat as its skin absorbs the cool liquid. Happy as they are for their dear's relief, the dentist's eyes can't help but wandering to their torn shirt and bare flesh. They were used to seeing their spouse in nude, but something about it being exposed in such a manner made the tease more... stimulating.

The dentist pulls off their coat - averting their gaze and the notable flush to their face as they drape it over the leech's shoulders.

"R-right then.... I'm glad you're feeling better, dear. Why don't we just head home for tonight? I'm not sure why we even came - I hardly even tolerate anyone here!"

"Doctor?... Is that you-"

The dentist pushes their spouse towards the door. "Just forgot my contacts! I'll be off now- Enjoy the party!"