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rainrot4me · 9 months ago

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Eyeless Jack General Headcannons

Summary: Basic, SFW, and NSFW head-cannons. My personal thoughts, feelings, and opinions about Jack as a character.

TW: NSFW below the cut, minors dni! Above the cut is sfw! Mentions of gore

Words: 2.3k

A/N: NSFW is reader with female anatomy.

Basic:

- The definition of nonchalant, doesn’t convey his emotions very well at all so he lets his actions do the talking.

- Even though he may put on a front of being calculated and detailed, everything he does is purely instinctual or off the top of his head. He’s never made great plans or thought further on a problem than he had to, relying solely on time or for everything to work itself out. Ben calls it ‘thuggin it out’. He may seem all cool, calm, and collected- but really, he just doesn’t care.

- Drives a brown 1989 Ford F-250. Found it discarded on some old hunting grounds and spent the next 3 years learning about truck parts just to fix it up. It’s nothing pretty and the A/C doesn’t work half the time, but that doesn't stop the proxies from either stealing it for missions or Jeff cruising it to gas stations.

- Loves his alone time. If ‘Do Not Disturb’ was a living being.

- Incredible sense of smell, a blessing and a curse.

- Even though he doesn’t really feel emotionally tied to anyone or reliant on anyone's attention, he would never pass up a good conversation with Jeff or Toby. Finds their problems interesting (and funny).

- Even though he doesn’t have any eyes, he can still see. How? Who even knows? The demon would describe it as more of a viewing like he can detail everything that’s happening, but he can’t physically see it. Cryptic stuff even he’s too dumb to figure out.

- Despite everything, probably the most upkeep and clean member of the mansion. While eating organs and harvesting them can be messy, he doesn’t like the grime and prefers to clean off as soon as he can. The same goes for his clothes and room/office. Surprisingly tidy.

- Not as smart as he likes to present himself. Sure, he’s a medical student with more experience than anyone in a 50-mile radius, but that doesn’t mean he knows what he’s doing all of the time. Whenever the proxies roll in with serious injuries, the demon shoots them full of antibiotics, cauterizes the wound, and prays it doesn’t get worse from there. He knows what he’s doing, but that doesn’t mean he knows it’ll work 100% of the time.

- A silent panicker. Will absolutely tear his brain to shreds worrying or fighting with himself, but keep a stone look on his face the entire time. Gauging his emotions is like conversing with a brick wall.

- Dry humor. Absolutely will answer your long, emotional paragraph with a thumbs-up emoji.

- In some sick way, slightly prefers the life he’s living now. It may be grotesque and depressing, but his knowledge of the medical field and human bodies is infinitely more broad than it would’ve been. He quite enjoys the freedom he has now.

- Never happier than when winter is fizzling out and the first signs of spring show up. The warmth, the colors, the vibrancy coming back. He can’t get enough of it. Absolutely will get lost just studying the snow melting from the new flower beds.

- Locked in the basement of the mansion at all times. Only comes out to eat or on the rare occasion he’s assigned a mission. The only place he truly feels comfortable.

- Will get oddly emotional when light reflects on the lake just right or the fog settles on the ridge just perfectly. You’d never guess, but he’s a big poetic bum.

- Purrs. Like a cat. Ears flick around like one too.

- With music, he’s a big lyric listener. The song could sound absolutely terrible, but as long as he resonates with the words, will enjoy it anyway.

- Unorganized organization freak. Everything has a place, even if you don’t know where that place is.

- Seriously underestimates just how overtowering he is. He’s nowhere near Slender’s height, but the demon easily doubles in the average human’s vertical. When he was human he was taller, but never like this. He’s still getting used to it.

- Lanky but quick. Limbs and features are longer, but the muscle index makes up for it. He’s seriously fit, but everything is evenly distributed. Serious muscle definition in his arms and back, though. What he lacks in strength, he makes up in speed and agility.

- Enjoys Radiohead, Cigarettes After Sex, Paramore, and Three Days Grace. Will also never admit it, but really enjoy the Twilight soundtracks.

Dating Him/SFW:

“My pet…” “Little thing…” “Pretty thing…”

- Gift-giving love language. Loves to make you things unexpectedly and watch the surprise on your face. Steals jewelry or clothing from his victims to gift to you.

- It takes a lot for the demon to even consider you a friend let alone a potential love interest. But you best believe once he’s decided he wants you, that’s it. You take precedent, anything and everything else in his life takes a step back and you become the focal point. Heaven help if you ever change your mind about him.

- “My pretty thing… my lovely little pet… all mine…”

- Physically can not get enough of your smell. Whether it be sweet or sour, whatever emotion you dwell in, this demon will bury his nose into the crook of your neck and waste away there. It’s intoxicating to him, like an emotional tie he’s bound to.

- Like to study you. Your movements, your voice, the way you react to certain stimuli. Everything about you and your personality just intrigues him to no end.

- Possessive in the, ‘If they look at you, I’ll kill them’ way, but also is sure enough in himself and you to know he doesn’t need to go that far. Would rather lock you away for only him to see, but respects you too much.

- Has a deep-rooted fear of hurting you, so any fight or disagreement turns him distant. He’ll come back eventually, but that doesn’t mean he’ll be comfortable enough to get all touchy-feely again just yet.

- A lot like Edward from Twilight, he wants to taste you the most. It’s seriously a bad habit to nip at your skin or get lost in your scent because he knows how easy it would be just to take a chunk out of you. Has to be very aware and cautious of himself.

- Even though it took a long time for him to be comfortable enough to take his mask off around you, he still gets wildly conscious about it whenever you’re around. Loves nothing more than when you’re caressing his face or kissing his skin because he knows it's genuine.

- For a cannibal, he’s an insanely good cook. Will only cook for you, however. He says it's out of love, but really he knows deep down he wants to control what you eat so you have good organ health. You best believe he’ll have you hitting those core diet needs.

- Doesn’t sleep often, but when he does it's for long periods. The problem is, he likes to completely swallow you with his body and wrap around you, keeping you there until he eventually wakes up. Really enjoys the body heat you provide. Lowkey a small spoon.

- Slouches to your height.

- His favorite time is after a long day, curling up in a big chair with a book and you in his lap. You cocoon in his arms as he leans back, a blanket draped over the two of you. He’s naturally cold-blooded so he would stay there forever if he could.

- “You smell so good, pet… So good…”

- Talks in short, mumbled sentences. The mansion residents started using you as a translator because he would only say more than 3 words at a time around you.

- Absolutely never cared about how he looked before you. You taught him decent clothing styles and now he rocks the ‘dark academia/soft boy’ aesthetic like a champ.

- Made you your own special corner in his lab just because he couldn’t deal with having to be away while working.

- An intense kisser. It’s never soft pecks but full-on mouth-consuming makeouts. He’s a hungry guy who can only be satisfied if he feels like he’s swallowed enough of your tongue and lips with his own. Your lips and chin are absolutely soaked with slobber afterward.

- Firm believer in carrying you. No matter where or how far, he likes to bridal-style haul you around or have you latch onto his back.

- “I could eat you up. Just kidding… yeah…”

- Goes ridiculously insane when he can see the chubbiness on your thighs or stomach. You sitting down or lying out, you best believe he is fighting every demon internally not to take a massive bite on your skin.

Dating Him/NSFW:

- Again, skin. No better than a man during the dark times when you flash just a little too much leg or abdomen. He’s on you in seconds and clawing your clothes off to see more.

- You will never leave an encounter without cum dripping out of you. Refuses to get off anywhere else but deep inside of one of your holes. Call it a breeding kink but his animalistic tendencies just won’t let him pull out. Grunting and panting against your nape as he slams inside as far as he can to keep you from squirming away

- “You can take it, I know you can… Need you full of me… All of me…”

- A greedy kisser. Grabbing your jaw and fucking his tongues into the warm wetness of your mouth, teasing to just push them further past the tightness of your throat. Even when you squirm and gag, he just pushes them deeper, testing your resolve.

- You reach your breaking point longggg before he does. A couple of orgasms deep and he hasn’t even put his cock in yet, just milking your body for all it’s worth. It may be because he has a high sex drive, but it’s mainly because he gets off best when you’re pliable and numb to his touch. It’s a domination thing.

- A pussy worshiper. Much like his adoration for any organ, he really appreciates all of his knowledge of the female anatomy and how good he is at eating you out. If he can, or if you can take it, he’ll press all three of his tongues deep inside and spread your plush walls to his content. Likes to swap between focusing on your cunt and your clit, but mainly both at once.

- Bite marks galore. Has to be careful with how much blood he draws, but you’ll never get by without at least one good bite mark on your shoulder. Likes to possessively mark you all over just for others to see. Same feeling with claw marks.

- There’s some cognitive switch in his brain that flips when he gets to a certain point of desperation, like after not seeing you for a long period or after a particularly difficult day. It’s like a starved creature hungry and desperate for anything. He’ll ravage your body and mind, fucking you both to pure exhaustion or until he physically can’t cum anymore.

- On that note, ruts. They’re seasonal, usually coming around the first two weeks of spring and fall. He can’t control when they show up, but once started, they usually last 3 to 4 days, each day getting less intense. Since it’s such an animalistic ordeal, he loses all restraint or moral compass on how to treat you. Bites, blood, wounds, and injury are all possible. They’re not intentional, but he physically cannot control his mental or physical, blinded completely by lust. Thank god his sperm isn’t compatible with human anatomy, because that’s the only place he’ll cum.

- “I’m sorry- sorry, pet- Just one more time- just one more- Fuck- I promise-”

- Both ankles wrapped in one claw. Two claws overlapping around your waist. Yeah…

- Starts slow, so achingly slow you want to rut your hips and get him deeper. He likes the feeling of entering you, of spreading your plush cunt around his cock and finding its home deep inside. He’ll get faster eventually, but for now, he just wants to drink up the sights and smells of your desperation. That first gasp gets him every time.

- Mating press or nothing else. If you want to try something new, he’ll happily oblige, but the only way he’s truly happy is if your legs are pushed back to your shoulders and his hips are slamming down into yours. He’ll take the occasional doggy style, but only if his teeth are latched on to the back of your neck and holding you docile.

- Could watch your face come undone all day. Loves to see your eyes roll when you come, or the sweat and tears dripping off your cheeks. The dark flush of your skin gets him so hungry he has to physically restrain himself.

- “You’re so gorgeous- so fuckin’ pretty- Ah- Look at me. C’mon, don’t get shy now…”

- One time, after a particularly messy organ harvest, he couldn’t wait to get to you. He was so livid, body practically shaking with excitement when he snuck into your room that he didn’t even have time to clean himself off. Blood (not yours) stained your sheets and skin, messy claws dragging across your stomach and chest to coat you in dark red, his tongues quick to shoot out and lap at the stuff. You, covered in blood and his mess, sent him spinning. That was the fastest he’s ever came.

- Growling, panting, snarling, huffing, chittering, teeth gnashing, LOUD ASF

- Has a size thing. Comparing your hand to his makes him so horny and eager to just pick you up and fuck you. Admires how small and easy you are to just throw around like a doll.

- Absolutely has had sick fantasies of fucking your organs like a fleshlight. He’d never tell you, but the thought of cutting a slit in your abdomen to push his cock into the tangle of intestines and muscles makes him drool. He can almost imagine how warm it would be.

- Gets a high when you squirt. Feels accomplished to be covered in your juices and having you completely ruined for anyone but him.

- “You can take it for me, yeah? Go ahead and make a mess… It’s alright…”

Thanks for reading!

Comments and reblogs are appreciated! 𐚁₊⊹

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sknyuz · 2 months ago

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before the storm | na baekjin

pairing — na baekjin x gn!reader

genre — angst, hurt/comfort (don’t expect too much of the latter), found connection, canon to whc2 events

cw — major whc2 spoilers, violence (off-screen), blood, character death, emotional distress, gang activity

wc — ~4k (don’t ask...)

a/n — #neededthat in-depth baekjin backstory and wanted to give him more of a background to his humanity so viewers can empathize with "donald na" that the show lacked so much :c ily na baekjin <333

playlist — astronomy - conan gray | the night we met - lord huron | as the world caves in - sarah corthan | sa susunod na habang buhay - ben&ben | promise - laufey (main)

part of the “i can fix him!” trilogy

masterlist | join the taglist | request a fic

update !! ⤷ read cheers to youth here (prequel to this)

the rain’s loud tonight, like it always is when you want to be left alone with your thoughts. it’s relentless, drumming against the windowpane like it’s trying to tell you something. but baekjin doesn’t seem to notice. he stands by the window, looking out, his arms crossed, folded infront of his chest. the city lights reflect off the rain-soaked streets, but his eyes are distant, like he’s not really here at all.

you’re behind him, watching him, waiting for him to turn around. you hate seeing him like this—cold and unreachable. you know what tomorrow is, what it’s going to mean. the fight. eunjang high. baku. si-eun. you know it’s been building up, and you know he’s not going to walk away from it.

but you’re still going to try.

you take a step closer, voice barely above a whisper.

“baekjin, please. you don’t have to do this.”

your words sound too soft against the noise of the storm. his fingers twitch, like he’s heard you, but he doesn’t turn around. not yet.

“you don’t understand, do you?” his voice is low, cold, like it’s been coated in something bitter. “they won’t stop. they’ve pushed me for too long. tomorrow is the only way to settle everything, i have no say in refusing to fight.”

you know why he’s doing this. you’ve seen it in his eyes every time he talks about it—the anger, the frustration, the years of being torn down until there’s nothing left but this. he can’t see past the fight, the need for closure. the need to serve the union.

but you’re still trying.

“i know what this means to you, baekjin. but this isn’t the way.”

you take another step forward, your fingers brushing against his arm. the contact is tentative, unsure, like he might pull away at any second. “you don’t need to do this. you’re better than this fight. we’re better than this.”

he doesn’t flinch, but you can feel the tension radiating off him. his shoulders are stiff, his back rigid like he's trying to hold himself together, even though it’s all falling apart.

“i never wanted this,” he says quietly, almost like he’s talking to himself. “but it’s the only language they understand. they all know what i can do. they know i’m not going to back down.”

you hate the way he says it. like this is the only choice he has left.

“i know how you fight, baekjin. but you don’t have to fight this way. you’re so much more than that.”

you reach up, fingers brushing the side of his face. his skin is cold, like the rain. he doesn’t move, doesn’t say anything, but you see his eyes close for just a moment. that tiny crack, that hint of something more. it’s enough to make you take another step closer, your hand resting gently on his chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath your fingertips.

“you’re not heartless.”

he finally looks at you then, and for the first time, there’s something softer in his eyes. it’s not much, just a flicker of something that’s been buried for so long, but it’s there. you know him better than this mask he wears, better than the anger and the pride. he’s not just the fight. he’s the boy you met in your first year of high school. the boy who let you in even when he didn’t want to.

“this isn’t who you are,” you whisper, your voice catching. “you don’t have to do this alone.”

he pulls away, slowly, like he’s unsure of the comfort you’re offering. you want to reach for him again, but you don’t. you just stand there, waiting for him to decide, even though you’re terrified he’ll walk away from you.

“i never asked for you to save me,” he says quietly, his eyes hardening again. “i don’t need saving. i just need to end it. i need this to end, y/n. one way or another.”

he sounds so sure, so determined. but you can see the cracks. you always could. you know him better than he knows himself sometimes.

you don’t know what else to say.

you just hold him, pulling him into your arms like you’ve done so many times before. his body’s stiff at first, hesitant, but then his arms come around you, pulling you close, burying his face in your shoulder. you breathe in the familiar scent of him, the rain, and something else—something broken that’s been there all along.

“i’m not asking you to change who you are,” you murmur, your voice barely audible. “but i need you to know that you’re not alone in this.”

he stays quiet, his breath warm against your skin. the storm outside seems to die down a little, but inside, it’s still too loud. too much. the tension is thick, like something’s about to snap, but you’re holding onto him, holding onto whatever pieces of him you can.

you pull back, just enough to look him in the eyes. his gaze is conflicted, torn between the fight and the person standing in front of him. and you’re scared, because you don’t know which side he’ll choose.

“i’m here,” you say softly, your hand brushing against his cheek. “i’ll be here, no matter what happens.”

for a moment, you think he might say something. but instead, he just nods, a barely noticeable movement. his gaze flickers to the door, like he’s already thinking about tomorrow. about the fight.

“then i’ll be there... in case you change your mind,” you whisper, your fingers slipping from his skin.

baekjin doesn’t say anything more. he doesn’t need to. he walks away, his figure swallowed up by the shadows, and all you’re left with is the rain pattering gently on the window and the silence. you don’t know what tomorrow will bring, but you know you’ll be there. even if it’s too late.

— freshman year.

you had transferred midway through the semester, and already, you felt out of place. the private academy was stiff, everyone was too serious, keeping to themselves, absorbed in their studies. you tried to smile at a few people, but no one seemed to care. and now, after weeks of struggling to catch up, you were staring at a test paper—the grade glaring at you, a constant reminder that you were too far behind. you sighed, dropping your pen, sinking back in your chair. everyone else seemed to breeze through it, their papers already turned in. you had barely managed to finish. it was a mess. a failure.

when the test was graded, the score was worse than you expected. you didn’t even look at the sheet at first. you just stared at the red ink, the marks that burned into the paper like a reminder that you were out of place here. the teacher called you up after class, giving you a look that said everything: you need help, and you need it fast.

later that afternoon, you were told baekjin would be tutoring you. great. na baekjin, the guy with the sharp eyes and the reputation that seemed to follow him like a shadow. he was known around here—not just as the smart, mysterious guy, but also for his involvement with some kind of shady organization. you didn’t know much about it, but you’d heard the rumors. he was always busy, always in some kind of trouble, always surrounded by people who made you nervous.

but here he was, waiting for you in the library after school. you’d walked in, feeling awkward, unsure of what to expect, he had his legs crossed and was leaning back in his chair, his phone in hand, eyes focused on the screen. you weren’t even sure he’d noticed you.

you hesitated before sitting down across from him. there was no greeting, just the sound of his fingers tapping the screen. his face was slightly twisted as if he had just read something that displeased him. when he noticed you, he didn’t say anything at first—just let out a soft sigh, like the last thing he wanted to do was be here.

“sit down,” he finally said, his voice low, still glancing at his phone. “let’s get this over with.”

you sat down hesitantly, glancing at him. he wasn’t looking at you, his attention still on his phone as he swiped through the screen, clearly frustrated. when he finally put the phone down, his gaze finally settled on you—properly, this time. those cat-like eyes, sharp and calculating, now focused directly on your figure. you weren’t sure if it was the way you were sitting or if he was actually acknowledging you now, but there was a moment of pause before he spoke again.

“i’m not sure why i got stuck with you, but here we are,” he muttered, his voice quiet but firm. “answer these sample questions first. show me where you’re at. i’ll see if it’s worth my time, i’ve got places to be.”

he pushed a set of papers toward you. you stared at the first question, feeling a tight knot in your chest. none of it made sense. you looked back up at him, but he was already looking at his phone again, clearly uninterested in your hesitation.

“go on,” he sighed. “don’t waste time.”

you started scribbling down answers, trying your best, but the words felt like they were slipping away. you couldn’t keep up with the pace, couldn’t understand it the way you needed to. baekjin, however, didn’t seem to care. he only glanced up briefly, then back down at his phone.

“this is pointless,” he muttered, clearly displeased by what he was seeing. “okay, stop. you’re really not getting this, huh?”

he rubbed the back of his neck, letting out another exasperated sigh. for a moment, he just stared at the papers, thinking. then, his expression softened—just barely—and he stood up, grabbing his own set of notes.

“fine,” he said, his voice quieter now, a little more patient. “i’ll explain it to you, but you need to actually pay attention this time.” he sighed again, as if this was the last thing he wanted to do, but when he explained, it was clear and precise. you followed his lead, bit by bit. things started to make sense—slowly, but surely. it wasn’t perfect, but it was progress.

the session ended quietly. baekjin picked up his phone again, still not really looking at you. “don’t expect me to do this every day,” he muttered as he stood up. “next time, figure it out yourself. i helped you once because mr. park said so, so don’t get used to it.”

you nodded quickly, feeling relieved that at least it was over for today. but as you gathered your things, you thought the worst was over. maybe you won’t see baekjin one-on-one for a while, at least.

but the next day, when you walked into the library again, there he was, sitting at the same table, phone in hand. no greeting. no complaints. just baekjin—ready to tutor your sorry ass again. you couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips.

“don’t get comfortable,” he muttered without looking up, as if reading your thoughts. “this doesn’t mean anything. just get it together.” (정신차려)

you weren’t sure what to make of it, but you knew one thing for sure: na baekjin wasn’t just leaving you to fend for yourself and fail. and maybe, just maybe, you might finally be able to make him warm up to you.

—the aftermath.

you felt cold.

the field was empty now. the fight was over, and the only evidence left were the puddles of rainwater, mixing with the mud, reflecting the fading light from the sky above. discarded broken umbrellas littered the ground, abandoned like everything else. the air was thick, heavy with the last remnants of the storm, but the rain had finally stopped, leaving only a damp chill behind.

there was a figure lying in the middle of the field, chest barely rising and falling. you barely recognized him at first—the blood staining his clothes, his face battered and bruised, eyes closed. but it was him. it was baekjin.

your heart raced as you ran to him, your legs shaky but determined. tears blurred your vision as you knelt beside him, hands trembling as you reached out to him, touching his cheek, feeling the coldness of his skin beneath your fingers. raindrops, mingling with the tears already streaming down your face, fell onto him, mixing with the blood and grime, staining his face in a way that seemed unreal.

"baekjin," you whispered, voice barely audible, but desperate. "baekjin, please... wake up. you can't... you can't just be like this."

you were in denial, your mind unable to fully grasp what was happening, what had already happened. why? why did it have to end like this? he had to win. losing this fight was never an option. you knew what losing this fight would entail—the union wouldn’t let him get off so easily. they couldn’t. not with the tension within the ranks already building up the past few weeks.

you couldn’t fathom what would happen to him. the cold, hard reality of it was creeping in on you, but you couldn’t accept it. no, you wouldn’t accept it. "please, don't give up on me." you were shaking, but you couldn’t let him go—not now.

and then, with great effort, he coughed, a weak, wet sound that sent a wave of relief through you. his eyes fluttered open just slightly, meeting yours with an intensity that cut through the fog in your mind. a smile, small and faint, twisted his bloodied lips. it was weak—broken even—but it was there.

his hand reached up slowly, trembling as he felt pain shoot up into every muscle, as if it took everything he had just to touch you. his thumb swiped under your eye, gently, as if trying to wipe away the tears you hadn’t realized had fallen so freely. but when you looked at him, you saw red. his thumb was smeared with blood, and the smear stained your cheek too, just under your eye.

the blood was fresh, a stark contrast against your skin, and it hit you all at once—how real this was. how brutal the fight had been. how close you were to losing him. your breath caught in your throat, and all you could do was shake your head, still in disbelief.

“baekjin, no…” you whispered, voice breaking. “you can’t… i can’t lose you.”

the thought of him slipping away—of losing him—squeezed the air from your chest. you clenched your fists, and before you could stop yourself, they gently thumped against his chest, not hard, but enough to feel the weight of your frustration, of the desperation bubbling inside you. the betrayal of it all—how could he? how could he do this to you when he promised?

“you promised…” your voice cracked with the rawness of it. “you promised we’d leave all this behind... after graduation. we’d leave it behind, together... there’s barely a year left, baekjin-ah... please.”

and somewhere in your mind, that promise plays again.

you were curled up on the office couch in the back of the bowling alley—the one baekjin always holed himself up in after late-night deals and longer days. the place was a mess. no decorations. walls painted a sickly kind of white, like someone had tried to bleach the past away and gave up halfway through. his textbooks were stacked on the floor. your own was half-open in your lap, one hand flipping through the pages, the other clutching onto him like you needed the weight of him to stay grounded.

his arm was around your waist, thumb tracing idle circles into your back. absentminded, but gentle. like he always was with you when the world finally left him alone.

“this place is a mess, jinnie,” you muttered, frowning. “when are you really gonna stop?”

he didn’t answer right away.

“we’re almost seniors…” you added, softer this time. there was no judgment in your voice—just worry, just that ache of hoping too hard for something that kept getting pushed farther out of reach.

baekjin looked at you then. just for a second. then his textbook hit the coffee table with a soft thud. the hand around your back slid up to your shoulders, the other falling to your thigh, warm and grounding. he tugged you closer until your head rested under his chin.

“after graduation,” he said, and he said it like he meant it. like it was already a plan written into the sky. “we’ll leave this behind, you and me. we’ll have stupid quiet lives. cute campus couple stuff. matching outfits, photobooth pictures… you’d like that, right?”

he glanced down at you, and for once, his piercing gaze softened. searching your face. waiting for your answer like it mattered more than anything else in the world.

you nodded. a little unsure, a little hopeful. and that was enough for him.

baekjin leaned down, lips pressing softly to your forehead. he lingered there, breath warm against your skin as he whispered,

“thank you, darling.”

he wasn’t one for affection—not really. but his thank you held every star in the universe. your presence, a light in a boy who had forgotten softness until you showed him, for seeing the na baekjin underneath all the sharp edges, the one who never got to be soft, or scared, or saved. you were a rare kindness in the life of a boy who was taught the world would never be kind back.

thank you for finding me. thank you for failing that stupid test. thank you for understanding. thank you for not cowering away or fearing me.

thank you for loving me.

he didn’t say it out loud—na baekjin barely used his words to express his feelings. but you felt every word in the way he held you tighter, like you were the only thing keeping him from slipping into the dark all over again.

tears blurred your vision again, and you leaned into him, needing to feel his warmth—anything to prove this wasn’t the end. but just as you tightened your grip around him, holding onto him as tightly as you could, a sound cut through the stillness.

the low rumble of an engine. distant at first, but growing louder, closer.

you froze.

“y/n…” baekjin’s voice, hoarse and weak, barely reached your ears.

“baekjin...” you whispered, your voice trembling with panic. “no! please... no, baekjin!” as you held him tighter by the collar of his leather jacket, the faint beat of his heart the only proof that he was still there with you, he was here. baekjin was alive underneath you.

the sound of the engine roared louder, and you felt the reality of it sink in. the union. you knew what this meant. you knew the danger was still there—the threat, looming over you both. they wouldn’t let him go. they couldn’t. even more so after losing this goddamn fight.

and you knew, deep down, that if they came for him now, if they took him, you might never see him again.

the black car appeared around the corner, its sleek body cutting through the gloom. your breath hitched in your throat, and you pressed yourself harder into baekjin, as if that would keep him here, keep him safe.

“don’t…” you begged, barely able to form the words through your sobs, crying against his chest. “baekjin, please… don’t let them take you...”

his hand, weak but still there, found its way to the back of your head, pulling you closer as best as he could. the warmth of his touch was the only thing grounding you to him in this moment of terror. you could feel the tremor in his arm, the effort it took for him to hold you. you wanted to pull him up, carry him, do anything to protect him, but you knew you couldn’t. not now. not like this.

his chest rose and fell with each shallow breath, and though his body felt frail, his grip on you was unwavering. in that moment, he was the only thing holding you together.

“i’m sorry... i broke it... my promise,” he whispered, his voice cracking, but he still managed a faint, apologetic smile. “i’m sorry, i love you, y/n.” tears already streaming from the corner of his eye, his eyes shutting as his body wracked with sobs together with yours.

despite all this, baekjin’s thumb gently brushed the back of your head, trying to soothe you, even though his own voice was barely audible. “i’m here,” he repeated softly. “i’m always gonna be here, darling...”

you could feel the blood staining your skin, the streaks of red marking where his thumb had wiped your cheek. but in that moment, with his arm around you, holding you close, you didn’t care. all that mattered was that he was still there. still breathing.

you knew his words were a lie. but you held onto them like a lifeline. the raw, painful desperation filled you as you clung to him, refusing to let go. you pressed your face into his chest, your body wracked with sobs, hot tears seeping through the fabric of his shirt. you could feel his body, weak beneath your touch, but you didn’t care. you needed him here.

just then, the sound of footsteps drew closer. you felt strong arms grip you forcibly, pulling you away from him, and you screamed, the rawness of your voice echoing across the empty field. “no!” your body twisted in their hold, thrashing wildly, trying to reach him again. “baekjin! baekjin, no!”

please, please, please. please let him go. please, he’s just a boy.

you struggled against the grip that was tearing you away, but they held you tight, forcibly dragging you, thrashing against you with no mercy. you watched as baekjin was practically thrown around with no regard, his body being pushed roughly toward the waiting black car, his eyes barely open, but still locked on you. you screamed his name again, your voice breaking, almost unrecognizable with the fear and desperation.

“baekjin… BAEKJIN, NO!” you cried, your voice raw, as you were yanked away. your feet slid through the mud, your body slamming against the ground, but you didn’t care. all you could think about was him—his face, his eyes, pleading with you even though he was so far from you now.

they pulled you back, tighter, holding you to keep you from running, from reaching for him. but your hands still stretched out, desperate to touch him, to make him see that you wouldn’t let him go. “BAEKJIN!” you screamed again, thrashing with every ounce of strength you had left. but your body was weak from the panic, your limbs refusing to cooperate, his eyes slowly fluttering close in surrender, as the black car’s door slammed shut on his defeated figure.

you were so focused on keeping him safe, on protecting what little time you had left, on clinging to every moment like it wouldn’t slip through your fingers the second you blinked. you were too busy holding onto him to realize you never got to say it back.

and now he’s gone, he disappeared without ever hearing it.

without knowing that you loved him just as much as he loved you.

and that was the last time you saw na baekjin.

the next time you saw his face, it was framed. adorned with flowers, surrounded by people who had come to mourn him. the world felt hollow as you stood there, staring at his peaceful face, knowing the price of this fight—knowing that he had given everything for something that you didn’t even understand. and now, all you had left were memories and a lingering pain in your chest.

you couldn’t breathe. you couldn’t think. all you could do was stand there, as the cold reality sunk in.

the promise of leaving everything behind. of escaping. of being free. it was gone. baekjin was gone. your baekjin. and now, you were left alone, standing in the ruins of everything you had dreamed for.

because the truth was—no matter how tightly you held him, how many times you whispered that he deserved more—baekjin had always been in pain. maybe he was just good at hiding it. maybe you were just good at pretending not to see how deep it ran.

he was just a kid. just like you. trying to survive a world that asked too much and gave back nothing but scars.

you were two kids in love, trying to dream a future into existence—one with matching hoodies and late-night takeout and photobooth strips and polaroids taped to your would-be college dorm walls. a future somewhere far from the violence, far from the weight he was forced to carry.

but this place—this twisted, brutal position he’d been trapped in—it never let him go. no matter how warm your arms were, how soft your voice sounded when you said his name, it was never enough to save him. you couldn’t save him.

and now all that’s left are the echoes of that dream, scattered around your feet like glass. and all you can do is kneel there in the shards, clutching the memory of his voice in your hands—“thank you, darling.”

like that alone could stitch the pieces back together.

edit: changed the divider to soft bae nara as compensation for my readers crying under this fic 🥺🤏 sorry 2 everyone’s hearts xx

if you liked this, i appreciate a reblog as well :3 it helps my works and writing spread to other ppl very effectively !!

a/n — it’s literally 3 am... edit: i’m sorry for making you guys cry (⁠｡⁠ŏ⁠﹏⁠ŏ⁠) i reread this before publishing with the playlist and homestly teared up too ㅠㅠ

𐔌 . ⋮ taglist .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ @ateez-atiny380 @alien0n3arth @cuppasunu @dhaliaa1211 @seokminfilm @loserlvrss @nanamiswifesatorusgf @hateateez

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randomgurl2326 · 1 year ago

Text

the love of a bracken is meant only for a blackwood

benjicot blackwood x fem!bracken!reader

warnings: tiny bit of angst, overprotectiveness, family issues, weapons, blood, teensy weensy bit of smut at the beginning, piv

summary: being in love with your house’s enemy dating back centuries is not exactly… ideal. especially with a brother who only cares about you when it involves his (father’s) ideals.

a/n: part 2??? or too cringe???

“fuck! fuck! ben!” the sounds of moaning and bed creaking fills the west wing of raventree hall.

you grasp your lover’s raven black hair as he thrusts and moans into your neck. he grabs the back of your neck to look at him “go on. go on my love—fuck! cum for me!”

the black wood boy rests his forehead onto yours as his thrusts quicken as he chases your high. your moans bounce off the walls as you reach the precipice of pleasure. “I’m-I’m gonna cum! fuck! please, please, please…” your lover breaks your pleas with a searing kiss. with one final thrust you cum with a guttural moan.

as you cum benjicot pulls out and cums on your smooth stomach and full breast; pearlescent release dripping down your smooth body as he drops to your side and pulls you into him. as the panting subsides you curl into your lover and kiss his chest.

“I love you” your blackwood confesses into the h/c confines of your hair. the confession leaves you warm yet chilled. fluttering yet scared. and the worst of all: loved yet heartbroken at the thought of loving the one thing you cannot have.

you look at benji with a sadness in your eyes trying not to let the tears stinging behind your eyes cross the painful threshold of your lids. the ferocious voice usually used by the ferocious warrior now strained, “I-i love you, too.”

tears sting benji’s eyes as the same dreading thoughts that plague his lover’s mind plague his. the dreading thoughts of a centuries long feud between the two lover’s houses. the dreading thoughts of their families’ bringing a reign of bloodshed and terror if they find out of the boundless love between the blackwood heir and the bracken spare. the dreading thoughts that one day his love might not be his to have.

the borderwood of bracken and blackwood were comforting that day. the usuallly sweltering heat now a comforting warmth as you walked through the wood of your homeland. the slight breeze nipping through the air bringing comfort to your skin.

the comfort is slowly dragged away as thoughts of your brother run through your mind. your brother, the very protective entity that follows you around to make sure you don’t get into trouble. the trouble of course being the blackwoods.

you couldn’t count the amount of altercations that had transpired between the young blackwood lord and aeron, your brother. oddly enough that’s how you and your lover met. merely the age of eight and ten while you and your brother played duel by the wall one evening when a raven haired boy came over to pull at the “little bracken girl’s” hair.

only at the age of ten and four did anything romantic transpire between the bracken girl and blackwood boy. the tale one day would be heard by their great-great-great-great grandchild of the name Samwell Blackwood of the Nights Watch. the story of how they became one would be told another time, another day.

your steps quicken as your thoughts run around of what had transpired earlier that day. the way benjicot made you feel; the only one who could make you feel that way. the words shared after. the first time the two of you had said it in so many words. the afterlying thoughts of family, how they would—

crack!

the sound of the stick cracking reaches your ear before you realize you fall. the sting of the scratch on your leg like a spider, though only a flesh wound. as you assess your injury you hear voices. the baritone of your brother aeron’s voice talking to your cousins reaches your ears before you see him not before he sees you.

“sister! what are you doing out here? so close to the craven’s wall?” his queries were brash and quick. the only thing that could make him so harsh towards you were the mentions of the balckwoods.

his questions make your heart race as you try to think of an excuse as to why you were so close to the wall. you finally compose yourself to make a simple enough explanation as to why “relax, brother. crasses wandered too far off while I was tending to her in the pasture. stellane can attest to that; she was with me up until I told her I would bring crasses back. no need to worry.”

aeron’s once tense shoulders relaxed as he lead you and your cousins back to the pasture. “you know I worry. especially when it comes to those craven cunts who think-“

“who that they can take over bracken land. yes, brother, I’ve heard it all before from you and father. I need not hear more.” the lecture your family given to you over and over since birth burns your ears as you roll your eyes. “do not roll your eyes at the sins the blackwoods have committed against our house, sister.”

you huff and return your gaze to aeron, “I get to roll my eyes when I’ve heard the story a million times before…” you kick a rock out of your way as you continue, “…the blackwoods have forsaken our house, y/n. the Blackwoods only bring the seven hells, y/n.” you laugh bitterly as you continue, “stay away from the bloody blackwoods, y/n. I’ve heard it all before!”

aeron’s gaze turns to you stern as ever and harshly places his hands on your shoulders causing you to stumble. “that’s because you need to learn! a girl like you could never understand-!”

“I understand that our house doesn’t even know what we’re fighting for anymore! I understand that you, brother, don’t fucking understand-!” a slap sounds through the pasture, echoing off the wall you, he, and your cousins didn’t know you were traipsing across. the slap rings through your ears as you bring a hand up to your cheek.

tears begin to sting behind your waterline and they fall as your brother begins speaking, “you are little girl who doesn’t-“ a voice booms across the small confines of the wall, loud and deadly.

“bracken! you strike a lady this close to blackwood this close to blackwood land?”

your eyes soften and your eyes sting more as you see your lover standing there with your brother.

aeron saunters over to the blackwood boy and draws his sword, as he does one of your cousins tries to hold him back but your brother pushes him away. “what’s it to you, craven? this is bracken land, no place for traitors of your kind.”

benjicot’s eyes trail from the bracken’s sword to his eyes and smiles cruelly. “I believe seeing a lady in distress makes it a matter to any passerby, does it not?” your brother brings his sword up to your brothers neck and you gulp down another round of tears, “aeron, stop. he hasn’t done anything-“

“shut up, stupid girl!” his harsh words are cut off as benji pushes his sword away and takes him by the collar. “you speak to her like that again, I’ll gut your throat.” his words cut the air like a knife. aeron smirks and pushes your lover off of him, “what do you care, craven? my sister isn’t of any concern to a fucking blackwood.”

“this isn’t the time or place—“ your yells are fruitless as they fall on deaf ears. benjicot looks up as he smiles gravely and turns to your brother. for a moment everything is silent. then your only horror comes out of your lover’s mouth. “it’s a concern to me when fucking your little sister every night”

“you fucking blackwood! I’ll fucking kill you!” your brother goes feral as he hears those words and charges. as aeron goes after benji your heart stops at his words and your tears fall. your brother lands a swift right hook but his victory doesn’t last for long.

benjicot tackles your brother to the floor. he lands a swift punch to aeron’s leg and twist him over to land on top. grunts and sounds of pain fly through the air as your lover and brother brawl in the grass. for a swift moment your eyes meet ben’s and a look of sorrow in his eyes, no remorse for what he did but an apology for what he said.

it takes nearly five minutes for your cousins to pull the boys off each other. your brother clearly taking the brunt of the damage. a limp and bruises on his face as he tries to fight off the other bracken boys. “y/n, is what the craven says true?”

the question burns through your mind as you return your eyes to your lover’s. his eyes dark and hard before he catches your sorrowful, soft e/c one’s. for aeron the moment seems to take too long, “answer me!”

“brother… I’m sorry-“ the dam finally breaks as tears rush from your eyes. your voice breaks as you speak. “I can explain! aeron!” aeron stalks up to you and strikes you again. “there is not explanation! a whore of the blackwoods is no sister of mine.” he lands a final blow and you crash to floor as he walks away with your cousins.

your cries deafening to anyone who can hear. “aeron! brother!” you get up and try to run to your blood “let me explain! please! I love him!”

he turns to you one last time, “listen here, sister” his words bite as he says them “you dishonor our father! me! our house! you sully the bracken name for whoring yourself out to a blackwood cunt. if I ever see you walk the bracken grasses again, I’ll personally make sure you never come back” with his last words he walks away, your sobs heartbreaking. the only sound heard in the pastures of bracken and blackwood are the soul-crushing sound of your sobs.

as you cry you turn to the saddened eyes of your lover. “y/n, I didn’t-“ “shut up! shut the fuck up!” you walk up to the bracken boy, a broken look in your eye. “don’t you see what you’ve done? this is your fault! if you would’ve just kept your mouth shut—“

“he would’ve found out anyway!” he interrupts you “him, the rest your family, my family. they would’ve all found out one way or another.” his voice usually soft and gentle with you now harsh and cold.

“you don’t know that, ben!”

he looks away from your heartbroken eyes, “fine. if they wouldn’t have found out, what then? you or I would be sold to the next highest bidder? you a broodmare, me married off to some cunt from some lowly house in need of title? is that what you wanted?”

“of course not!”

“then what? what do you think would have happened?” his harsh words slash you like a dagger. his eyes finally meet yours again, “truly, what do you imagine would have happened?”

words fail you in that moment. scenarios run through your head, none good, none how you wanted. as you think you can only come up with one thing as tears trail down your supple cheeks. “I-i don’t know! are you happy? is that the answer that you wanted to hear? the little bracken girl wanting to be happy in her little dreamland! everything turning out in the end! is that what you want to hear? little daydreams running though her head as she wishes to be with the one she loves? the one she cannot have? is that it?”

benjicot’s lips start to wobble and his tears finally fall. his loves words hitting him all at once. the guilt, the pain, the torture of seeing his girl cry heartbroken because of something that he did. “y/n, I didn’t mean-“

“that’s just it! you never mean it that way! you never mean for it to happen…” you look to the cloud-clad sky and breathe, you look back to your lover’s pain-stricken eyes and sob “I want you to leave. I never want to see you again. I never want to hear from you again. and I don’t want you near me again!”

you pick up your skirts to leave. as you do, benjicot takes your small wrist into your his big hand. “y/n, please.” his voice small “i love you” he cups your cheek and places a tender kiss on your lips. the kiss soft and gentle as he fights for your love. once the two of you part he rest his forehead on yours as he whispers “i love you, y/n. ‘a bracken’s love meant only for a blackwood’ that’s what you always tell me. please, my love” his voice cracks “please”

you taste the mix of your salty tears on your lips as you kiss him again. this time the Blackwood’s heart breaks as he knows this is your goodbye. your last goodbye to him. to your love. once you part you brush the hair from his eyes away as you mirror his whisper ��I’m sorry.”

as you walk away it’s his turn to sob “y/n! please! don’t go!” this time he says it in a low whisper against the droplets that have started to fall from the sky “I love you…”

as you walk away you hear his sobs. more tears fall from the long broken dam of your heart. you don’t turn back to see the boy’s heartbroken voice. as you reach sight of the bracken fortress you come across a heartbreaking realization: you never said ‘I love you’ back. the only boy you had ever loved ripped away because of a centuries old rivalry that no one cares to remember what it was built on. your one and only love slipping through your fingers because of your torn fealty of your blood and your love.

‘the love of a bracken only meant for a blackwood’ what a joke you’ve come see. the love of a bracken is meant to tear apart, not to bring together you realize.

a heartbroken girl and a heartbroken boy on two sides of the same coin. always close but never to touch. one right, one wrong.

though, a rare melding of a coin unties the two sides, touching once more. heads and tails, bracken and blackwood, united. none yet to see. the rage of one house and the merriment of another. yet to be seen as the fates had foretold it. ‘all in good time’ as they say.

for now, our raven and stallion broken on the two sides of their fealty. of their blood. of their blood.

a/n: holy shit! I am sorry you guys. that is A LOT more angsty than I thought it was going to be. also, I’m really sorry if this is cringe or weird. I don’t know if this is my best work, but I hope you like it. this is my firsts time writing for bloody ben so I hope it turned out all right.

any and all comments and feedback are appreciated and I am in desperate need of a beta reader. so, if you’d like to help me with that DM me and we’ll get that all worked out. again, thank you for reading, I hope you enjoy, and I hope it wasn’t too cringe

#x reader #benjicot blackwood x reader #benjicot blackwood #ben blackwood x reader #bloody ben #bloody ben x reader #benji blackwood #ben blackwood #hotd x y/n #hotd x reader #hotd #hotd spoilers #hotd season 2 #house of the dragon

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dovveri · 1 year ago

Text

ordinarily

synopsis: you’re having a few issues with your sex life so you decide to start seeing a sex therapist with your boyfriend

warnings: reader receiving, cheating, lots of sex talk bcs this entire fic is literally set around sex, fingering, clitoral stimulus, vibrators, dildos + strap on, sana watches reader masturbate

w/c: 7.8k

a/n: if u didn't know im a psych student and this idea came to me at 3am while cramming sexual dysfunctions for my finals and i ltr wrote this in a few hours bcs i was OBSESSED - that being said this is all still fictional bcs... let's be honest i js wanted to have sex with dr sana but some of the facts are still real! the treatment however... not so real LMAO

❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

“ms. l/n?”

“yes!” you scramble upwards at the sound of your name, pulling your boyfriend up with you and walking briskly towards the woman who’s called you. she offers a kind smile, gesturing for you to follow her.

“is it alright if i bring my boyfriend along?”

she nods, “yes that’s fine. it’s actually customary that both partners are here for appointments like these.”

she leads you towards her office, a clean, organised room with a small couch next to the doctor’s table and chair, and what looks like an upgraded version of a classic examination table.

she seats you both and rolls her chair forward so she’s facing the both of you when she talks. “so how can i help you today ms. l/n?” her eyes are kind, a hint of a smile on her lips.

“u-um just y/n is fine dr. …” you glance to her badge, “minatozaki.”

“alright y/n. sana is fine for me too then.” she smiles.

“r-right sana. so we’ve just been having some trouble with our- um- sex life recently and i think it’s mainly my fault.”

she frowns a little, picking up a notepad on her table to jot down some things, “why would you think that?”

“um well- i- i haven’t um- i’ve never had a penis in me before. my previous male partners would only ever use their hands or mouth but because we were getting a little more serious than that, i wanted to let ben-“ you glance at your boyfriend who looks a little uncomfortable, shifting around in his seat a little, “be the first and we’ve tried for a while now but it’s always just too painful? and i know everyone says the pain passes and whatever but it never seems to pass for me…” you blush, getting progressively embarrassed as you go on.

"i see. do you mind if i ask you a few questions about your sex life?"

you nod, feeling intimidated by the things she's jotting down into her notepad.

"how long has this been going on?"

"umm- i'd say we've tried to have penetrative sex for about 2 months now?"

"have you ever experienced anything like this before?"

"no."

"do you have any history of previous mental health problems?"

"not really, no."

"when you attempt to have sex, do you engage in foreplay?"

"u-um... yes."

"and are you able to secrete natural lubricant from that?"

ben lets out an undignifed snort. you elbow him, face burning red when sana looks up from her notepad, narrowing her eyes at ben who shrinks in his seat, covering his mouth.

"u-um yes i think so."

"ben? is this true?" sana's eyes are locked on ben.

"sorry doc are you asking me if my girlfriend gets wet?"

"for lack of better words yes."

"well yes she gets plenty wet. i always make sure she's turned on before i go in. if you’re asking about if i'm good at sex then yes. i am. plenty of girls in the past have cum because of me."

"i didn't ask that but thank you for your contribution." sana says a little sarcastically, looking back towards you and then down to her notepad. you elbow ben again in response who glances at you slightly annoyed, the tips of his ears red.

"what sorts of foreplay activity do you engage in, does it arouse you, and on average how long would you say your foreplay would go on for?"

"i- um- i-"

"this is a safe space. everything i'm asking is purely for diagnosis reasons, there's nothing to be ashamed or embarrassed about, i deal with lots of clients everyday who come in and have talked about much more bizarre things and none of them are nearly as attractive as you are which makes it a lot worse when someone comes in here claiming they have sexual proclivities towards aliens or otherworldly beings."

you blush, the throwaway compliment in there didn't fly past you. "do people really ask about that?"

sana chuckles a little, "oh you'd be surprised the things people come in here about."

you laugh a little in response as well, feeling more comfortable around the doctor, "um well i guess we do all the normal stuff. kissing, whatever, um it usually lasts about... 10 minutes?" you turn to ben who shakes his head a little so you correct yourself, "20 minutes maybe. and um yeah i guess it does arouse me."

sana hums, making a few more notes, "are your nipples sensitive? your breasts? does he play with them? what about your clitoris?"

"i- um- yes... to all of those."

"have you ever orgasmed before?"

"i- yes."

she senses the hesitation in your voice, looking up curiously, "have you orgasmed during sexual relations with ben?"

you shuffle in your seat a little uncomfortably. ben looks at you expectedly, but you can't bring yourself to meet his eyes.

"yes. yes she has." ben replies for you instead when he realises you're not responding.

sana's eyes cut to his with a scowl forming on her face, "did you know only 64.4% of women are able to reach their orgasm during sex? and that number is even lower when the sex is just penetrative? in comparison, 91.3% of men reach their orgasm, in fact, sexual dysfunction in men is actually more common when men orgasm too fast."

ben raises an eyebrow defiantly, "your point doc?"

"that it's normal for women not to reach orgasm. and normal for them to fake it when their boyfriends are pretentious assholes that think they have the best game in the world but in reality, have inflated egos that would easily be shattered if he found out he wasn't as good as he thought he was. most of these women care too much about hurting their partner's feelings than to tell the truth."

ben leans forward aggressively, ignoring your protests for him to sit back down, "i don't know what kinda whack patients you got in here doc but i'm not one of them. i don't need anyone to worry about my feelings like you women do."

sana rolls her eyes, not backing down from his intimidation, "do you have any problems with sexual activity? come too fast? not able to get it up? not able to come?"

ben sputters, "w-what?! who do you think i am?!"

"it's a yes or no question."

"no! i don't have any of those problems! i told you i'm not one of your weird patients!"

"alright that's all we'll be needing from you today. i think this session will be much more productive for y/n if you leave the room. so if you'd please-" she stands up and opens the door, indicating for him to leave.

"what? you can't just kick me out! this is my girlfriend! i'm just as involved in this as she is!"

"actually, since you haven't admitted to having any problems with sex, and you've both said that foreplay and arousal is adequate, there's nothing more that involves you. so yes, i can kick you out."

ben looks back at you, his face red, but you push him forward, "just go ben don't make a scene. i'll see you outside." he frowns, sending a final glare to sana before stomping out the room.

sana closes the door softly after him, settling back down with a sigh.

"i'm so sorry about him i didn't know he would react like that i-"

"it's okay y/n. this is actually quite common. sexual dysfunction is often severely underreported in men, because of the masculine standards they put themselves up to, lots of them won't seek treatment. that's why most of the clients we get are women who come in here with their boyfriends, and a lot of the time these boyfriends don't think they have anything to do with the women's sexual dysfunction, and a lot of them can't accept that they do."

"but you just said-"

"i know what i said. and it's true that if your foreplay is indeed enough and arousing for you, and that this isn't because of any sexual dysfunction he may have, then it no longer directly regards him. however, just because it doesn't directly involve him, doesn't mean it's got absolutely nothing to do with him. i do think i have an idea of what you're going through, but to confirm i'd like to ask a couple more questions if that's okay with you? and hopefully you can be fully honest with me now that ben isn't here."

you shuffle in your seat a little. "yeah of course."

she smiles, going back to her notepad, "so backtracking a bit, i'm assuming ben hasn't been able to make you orgasm?"

you blush, shaking your head.

"how about with previous partners? is there anything they've done that's helped you reach that orgasm or are there any similarities you can think about between them?"

"mm well for one, i've only ever been able to come when i'm with women."

"oh?" sana looks up again over her specs, a twinkle in her eye.

"u-um yeah and with them it's mostly um, using their hands or oral, and even then i normally need at least some clitoral stimulation to come. i have tried using dildos before but i also find it a little too painful, but i'm at least able to bear it when it's with a woman, with ben i kinda just push him off because it's all too much."

"i see. that's quite normal. most women do require clitoral stimulation to be able to orgasm. a very small proportion of women are actually able to come from penetration alone. do you masturbate?"

you blush again, fiddling with your fingers, but her friendly smile reassures you, "yes. well- less since i've been with ben because he doesn't really like it when he finds out i've touched myself. he gets a little offended and always says i don't need to masturbate when i have him. he takes offense because he thinks i'm doing it since he's not doing a good enough job or something."

"hmm." she hums, jotting something else down, "is he doing a good enough job? i know you said foreplay was fine but i just wanted to check in on that again."

"he's alright i guess. like most men i've been with in the past he does kinda rush things a little, and he does do foreplay it's just a little rougher than i like sometimes. i also think um-" you blush, eyes flickering around the room.

"mm?" sana smiles gently again, encouraging you.

"i think he has trouble finding my clit? or i don't know he always kinda fumbles around when he fingers me so his hands always brush against my clit a little too rough and then he presses down on parts where he thinks it is and asks me if it feels good."

sana hums again, writing down some more notes before the next question. "so back to masturbation, before ben, how often would you say you masturbated?"

"oh u-um, maybe like once a month?"

"and you're able to make yourself come?"

"sometimes. sometimes it just gets too tiring and i end up just falling asleep."

"i see." sana writes a few finishing notes and then places her notepad on the table. "so from what you've told me today, it would seem like you have something called genito-pelvic pain or penetration disorder. normally this sort of behaviour has to go on for at least 6 months before it is diagnosable, but even though it’s only been two months for you, we can still work on ways to improve your symptoms. so there's nothing physically wrong with you or your body, this is more of a cognitive response to a fear of pain from penetration. what happens is because of this fear, you're vaginal muscles tighten when you're about to have sex, they're trying to protect you from this invasive thing that's going to enter your body and that it thinks will cause you a lot of pain. this is why it's so much more painful when someone does penetrate you, because you're muscles are already working actively to try and push it out, they only get tighter and tighter making sex more painful for you. this kinda creates this cycle of fear because it does hurt when you have sex, so the next time it happens, your muscles learn to anticipate this pain and try to close you off from this external invasion. does that kinda make sense?"

you nod a little hazily, the words floating around in your head.

"it's a good thing that you're still able to take penetration though. in some extreme cases women's vaginas have been sealed so tight penis penetration is impossible. now there aren't any medications for this unfortunately, but the main treatment is to unlearn this fear that's maintaining the disorder, and eventually you'll be able to engage in sex that is enjoyable for you again."

"how would i unlearn that?"

"well first of all, masturbation helps. a lot. you say you were only really doing it once a month in the past but actually, masturbating weekly or even twice a week is perfectly normal. and i know you said your boyfriend doesn't really like it but... well it's your body right? if he can't make you feel good then you need to start learning how to make yourself feel good. you need to start turning sex into a positive experience again. later down the line, that also means a lot more foreplay than what you're currently doing. i'm talking like an hour at least. using lube as well will be extremely useful, even if you are wet, it always helps to be fully prepared for that first penetration. i know this all sounds like a lot right now so we'll start slow. would you mind getting up on the examination table and taking off your pants and underwear. i'd like to examine your pelvic muscles a little more closely."

you nod, shuffling onto your feet and beginning to strip out of your clothes. sana pays you no mind, grabbing a new pair of gloves and slipping them on. you figure sana has done this plenty of times in the past, there was nothing to be embarrassed about. well... aside from the fact that sana was really pretty and her really pretty hands were about to be touching you and-

she's turning back around when you lay on the examination table, hands crossed on your stomach, fiddling with your fingers. you avoid her gaze but catch the way her eyes linger a little on your legs. she moves closer towards you, you keep your gaze fixed on the ceiling, feeling the tips of your ears go red at the attention.

she giggles a little and you're confused, "y/n you have to open your legs for me to be able to see anything."

"oh right i- um-" you shyly spread your legs apart, revealing your cleanly shaven lips.

sana squeezes something into her hand, "this is just lube. to see your pelvic muscles in action means i'll have to part your walls so i'm just lubricating them to make it a little more comfortable for you." she looks up at you, waiting for your consent, and when you nod, she gets straight to work.

you gasp at the cold feeling of the lubricant running down your folds, wiggling a little. then, sana's hands come in and start massaging the lube along your folds, spreading it so it covers the entire surface area of your core, fingers gentle as she spreads the liquid. your breath catches a little when she bypasses your clit, squeezing your hands together, and trying your best to not make any inappropriate sounds while in your doctor's office.

you sneak a glance down at her, watching the way she has her lip caught between her teeth while she focuses, eyes glued to your folds. she spreads your lips and starts applying the lube on your inner folds as well, meticulous with her work, making sure no slice of skin was missed.

"i'm going to start prodding around your entrance now alright?"

you can only choke out a hum in response, not trusting your voice to give away the fact that this was turning you on very much.

one of her fingers glides down to your entrance, her other hand still holding your lips open, and she starts to poke gently at your entrance, you can feel when a short fingernail dips in just slightly, wiggling around a little to try and loosen you up. at this point you're kinda glad sana went with the lube because it meant she couldn't tell she was actually getting you spectacularly wet on her own, your own slick mixing with the lube she's spread all over.

she starts pushing a finger in very slowly, but you cringe a little and shuffle your hips when she's about a knuckle in. she pulls out gently, "hurts?"

you nod, "a little."

she starts pressing gently against your folds again, "i'm just going to try massage your folds from the outside, hopefully it'll get your muscles to relax a little with some stimulation."

it is relaxing, the way she's gently pressing into you, it’s certainly never like anything you’ve felt before, it turns you on, but also eases you, it’s a combination you’ve never experienced.

when she gently runs a finger over the hood of your clit your hips jerk and you gasp.

“sorry! too much?” sana backs away quickly, hands raised so you can see she’s no longer touching you.

you inhale, forcing yourself to look at her, your gaze a little blurry, eyes lidded, “n-no. that was- g-good actually.” your voice is a lot scratchier than it was, you can’t believe how turned on you are from just minutes of being with her. “a-actually would it- um- are you allowed to take your gloves off? like if you want to! you don’t have to if you think it’s gross or anything i just think it could help a little so you can feel exactly where your skin and nails touch me.”

sana raises an eyebrow, seeming to consider you, and you want to crawl back into your pants, run away and never see be seen in public again the longer she takes to regard you.

but then wordlessly, she takes her gloves off, flicking them into the bin and reaching for the bottle of lube.

“oh um- you don’t have to. i’m wet enough i think.”

sana smirks then, squeezing some into her palm, “oh sweetie i know. remember what i said about lubing up anyway though? there can never be too much lube.”

you blush at the pet name, gritting your teeth when you feel the cool liquid and the soft touch of her fingers again. except this time it’s so much more real, you can feel every single brush, every stroke, every movement of her fingers against you. when she brushes against your clit again, you can’t help the faint moan you let out. your cheeks burn in embarrassment when you feel her still her movements against you. “s-sorry i-“

“it’s okay. you can make as many sounds as you want. just relax. stop thinking sweetie.” she brushes over your clit again, with a little more purpose this time, and you let out another whimper, trying to stop your hips from grinding against her hand.

the next few minutes are torturous. you're biting back moans every 2 seconds, focusing on keeping your hips solidly on the examination table, hands clenched tight together, you’re so wet you can hear the way she's sliding through your folds much more easily now, able to insert the entire length of her fingernail in with each stroke downwards. your breathing has gotten observably heavier, each inhale and exhale is strained, and you certainly couldn’t look at sana anymore, eyes glazed, just trying to focus on not giving yourself away.

"i’m gonna try go in again now okay?"

you nod, a little desperately, closing your eyes to block out the sight of her between your legs.

she gently prods at your entrance, now able to slide a knuckle in fairly easily, you feel like jelly around her, unable to control your own movements when you jolt downwards, sucking in more of her finger and moaning at the feeling.

“alright?”

“mhm just- just do it.”

“do what sweetie?”

“just- you know-“

“hmm?” she slips a little further in, and you clench around her, your muscles trying to trap her inside of you.

“f-fuck- i- yeah- fuck-“

she giggles a little and you flush, you realise again that she’s very attractive and very good with her hands and those hands are now inching even deeper into you, and before you know it, she’s got her entire finger buried inside of you.

you’re breathless at the feeling.

“painful at all?”

“n-no. not at all. feels- um- g-good.”

you can hear the smirk in her voice when she teases, “you feel good.”

you clench around her at the praise, unaware that sana’s trying her very best to stay as professional as possible, despite wanting so badly to rid you of all your clothes and fuck you until you were moulded to only be able to take her.

“relax baby. i’m going to slide back out now okay?”

you whine when you feel her retreating slowly, your walls gripping her finger, urging her to stay inside. but she comes out until just the tip of her finger is in you, and then pushes in again, filling you up deliciously.

you exhale deeply, back arching at the feeling.

“good?”

“fuck- so fucking good oh god-“

she’s pulling out and pushing in again, slow and careful, watching your body for any signs of pain and fixed on the way your face contorts in pleasure at the feeling of being sexually satisfied for the first time in months.

“think you can take another?” you peek open your eyes to find that sana looks slightly more dishevelled than before, her breathing also a little irregular now, her voice low with lust. you gulp at the sight.

“y-yeah.”

now that you've caught a glimpse of her, you can't look away, your eyes tracing the way her gaze is a little clouded, her tongue peaking out to wet her lips. then she's pushing in again with a second finger, rubbing your clit lightly with her other hand and pressing down onto the external parts of your folds to get you to loosen up.

you suck her in easily, whimpering a little when she stops and looks up at you in concern.

"k-keep going p-please- i can take it- fuck-"

so she continues her journey, pressing in deeper, and deeper, until she's able to fit two fingers snugly inside of you. you moan when she fills you up, pulsing around her, muttering curses and hands moving to hold onto the sides of the examination table.

but then, sana's pulling out again, and this time she doesn't come back. she clears her throat, moving towards the sink in her office to wash herself up.

you clamber onto your elbows hazily, completely soaked and watch in confusion as she dries her hands, her cheeks flushed.

"i think that's enough for today y/n. you can use the sink and this towel here to clean yourself up and get dressed. i'll wait for you outside." she doesn't spare you another glance and slips outside the room, closing it behind her to give you some privacy.

you take a second to recover because what the fuck just happened? you can only follow her instructions dumbly, picking up the towel she's left for you and cleaning yourself up, still incredibly sensitive when you twitch with each swipe along your folds. you put your clothes back on and rearrange your hair so that it doesn't look like you were just about to come mere minutes ago.

once you're tidied up and you've cleared your mind, or at least pushed all the lustful thoughts about being fucked into the table aside, you step outside the office, looking around to find that sana's with ben at the front desk, talking to the receptionist.

you clear your throat to announce your presence when you walk up to them. ben seems to have calmed down and he kisses your cheek sweetly when you sidle up next to him. you take note of the way sana eyes the action, her grip on the pen getting just a little tighter.

"alright y/n. i talked with ben to get an idea of your availability so i hope it's okay that i've booked you in for another session in about 2 weeks."

"yes that's fine!" your voice comes out unintentionally higher than you meant it to. the nerves and confusion hitting you at once.

"and i'll also set you a little homework. like we talked about, masturbation is key to getting better. so here's a self-care kit, it's got a clitoral vibrator and a few different dildo sizes as well as a couple of bottles of lube. i want you to try using the vibrator first, get used to the feeling of orgasming, and then start to bring in the smallest dildo. ben can watch if you want him to or help, but just remember what i said about making sex a positive experience. that's the main purpose of all of this, just relearning that sex is good and that it’s meant to be fun and enjoyable. i'll check with you in 2 weeks how the progress is going and we'll go from there. any questions?"

the entire time she talks to you, she barely looks into your eyes, it's clear she's already discussed all of this with ben who looks more than happy to be a bystander to your sexual pleasure if it meant he would be able to have sex with you later on. you find yourself a little disappointed that she won't acknowledge you. you shake your head no, and she slides you a few forms and the self-care package she mentioned, discreetly wrapped and in a cute little takeaway bag.

"great i'll see you in two weeks y/n. if you'll excuse me now." she sidesteps you and walks briskly back into her office, your eyes trail after her, but you shake the feelings from your head, refocusing on the present and the way ben has his arm wrapped around you.

❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

it's a fortnight later and you're sitting in a familiar waiting room, this time without ben because you convinced him to stay behind after his retaliatory actions the last time he was here. maybe you also just wanted to see sana alone but you weren't going to tell him that.

if you were being honest, sana hasn't left your mind once since you left the clinic two weeks ago. even when you were completing her assigned homework tasks, it wasn't broad muscles and rugged facial hair that you were thinking of, no matter how hard you tried, your thoughts always drifted back to the way sana had handled you so carefully, the way her fingers felt inside you, how she paid attention to every single reaction you made, every small sound, twitch, how attentive she was. and sometimes your thoughts drifted into territory that was a little more imaginative. those usually consisted of sana using the various toys she'd given you to bring you to heights you weren't able to bring yourself to.

"y/n?"

your head snaps up at the voice. you beam seeing her, she has her hair up today, pretty earrings and perfect features accentuated. she smiles in response at you, gesturing you to follow her to her office.

you settle into the familiar office again, much more relaxed and excited than the last time you were here.

"i see you're looking a lot more chipper than 2 weeks ago." sana comments with a smile, grabbing her notepad that you recognise from last week.

"just happy to see you again."

her smile fades a little at that, but you don't let that discourage you.

"right... so tell me how your fortnight has been. have you attempted to have sex with your boyfriend again? uh... bryson was it? or brendan?"

"ben. and no we haven't had sex again. i also took your advice and let masturbation be just a personal experience. he asked to watch and help but i told him it would be better if he didn't."

"that's good to hear. how has the masturbation been?"

"great! you were right! i've forgotten what having sex just for the sake of doing it for myself felt like. i've spent so long thinking i enjoyed it when i was really just an item for my partner's satisfaction. in a sense that brought me joy as well, being able to provide a source of happiness for them, but i realised that that's not a healthy thing to keep doing."

sana smiles genuinely, "very good y/n. i'm glad that masturbation has helped you realised that. how about your vaginal muscles? did you try using the dildos in the self care package?"

"um- yes i did but- i was actually hoping- uh-"

"hmm? what is it?"

"well i still haven't really been able to cum from using the dildos, only from the vibrator. it's not as painful anymore to put them in, and i'm still working up the sizes, but it still doesn't really feel good? like it just feels like there's something in me, it doesn't really derive pleasure or anything like that."

sana hums, thinking a little, writing down a few notes before closing her notepad. "would you show me?"

"i- um- sorry what?"

"how you've been masturbating. it may be something with the technique, but if it's something else more serious, i'd need to know about it."

"oh! yeah of course." you stumble upwards, repeating your movements from 2 weeks ago, stripping of your clothes, except this time, you take your top off as well.

sana yelps and turns around at your abrupt show of skin.

"something wrong sana?"

"oh- um- no nothing i just thought- um- i didn't think there was reason for your top to be off as well-"

"you wanted to see how i touched myself right? i generally try and stimulate my tits as well since my nipples are quite sensitive."

"right... yes of course." she turns around again, avoiding your gaze and looking to the floor, waiting for you to get on the examination table.

your lips quirk a little at how shy she's being, "is something the matter sana? you see naked bodies all the time in this line of work don't you? and you pretty much saw me naked last time as well..."

sana blushes even brighter, "um- well- yes but- most of my patients tend to be middle aged and they certainly aren't as attractive as you are."

"you think i'm attractive?" you're laid on the examination table now, head turned to the side so you can watch as the doctor fumbles where she's seated, still not looking at you.

"i- um- well- forgive me- i'm trying really hard to be professional right now and-"

"is that why you left in such a hurry during our last session?" you start trailing your hands over yourself, finding yourself easily aroused in the presence of the other woman.

"oh- um- well- yes i- i didn't want to make you uncomfortable-"

you moan gently when a practiced hand glides up to squeeze softly at a tit, the other sliding down slowly towards your centre. "you could never make me uncomfortable sana. well actually... i was only really uncomfortable when you left me so empty last time. i couldn't wait to go home and try out the toys you gave me, i haven't felt so turned on in so long and i needed to get that out of my system as soon as i could." you're trying to get a rise out of her, but everything you're saying is the truth anyway.

sana's eyes are on you now, wide and a little shocked at the words coming out of your mouth, and you revel in the way that meant her eyes now travelled your body. you try and angle yourself so she can see the way you squeeze at your breast, brushing over a nipple lightly with your palm and watching it pebble in reaction, your other hand dipping down to trace along your folds, finding that you're already dripping, the fact that the object of your sexual desires for the last 2 weeks is now only inches away from you, watching you touch yourself, driving you further off the edge of sanity.

"y/n..." sana's voice comes out almost 2 octaves lower than her usual register. you catch the way she wets her lips and crosses her legs.

"i'm so wet already i don't even need lube. and i know you kept saying to use it no matter what and trust me i did when i got myself off at home, but right now, just look-" you bring your hand up from between your legs, making an obscene display of licking your fingers and sucking on them, making sure she could see the arousal that coated your fingers.

sana's jaw tightens at the sight, she shuffles a little in her seat, unconsciously moving closer towards you.

"you don't have to worry about being unprofessional sana. i promise i want this just as much as you do right now." you slide your hand back down yourself, finding your clit easily after the practice you've gotten over the last fortnight, and rubbing circles around it.

"bold of you to assume i want this. this is my job after all." you leak at the register in her voice, it's something you've only been able to imagine in your fantasies.

"you don't want me?" you pout a little, turning onto your side so your entire body is facing her, your arm pushing your breasts together while a finger tugs gently on a nipple, your other hand still rubbing fast little circles into your clit.

sana chuckles darkly, her eyes closing, she seems to be trying to force herself to keep still.

"because just to be clear... i've thought about how you touched me every single time i came these past two weeks." your breath hitches when you recall the way you'd vigorously rub one out to her, sometimes multiple times a day ever since you started masturbating again. "i- oh fuck- no one has gotten me that turned on in such a short amount of time ever- nng- and i'd think about the way you felt inside me, and how careful and gentle you were- fuck- and then i'd think about how rough you could get as well- oh- and how i'd try and be so good for you- can you- can you pass me the dildo? i think i can slide the smallest one in now-"

she gets up from her seat wordlessly, exuding a dark aura that makes you clench your thighs in anticipation. she moves towards your bag, digging for the package and pulling it out, taking the smallest dildo and then moving back towards you. her pupils are blown, hungrily drinking you in, your fingers speed up just a little at the attention.

you reach out a hand mid-moan, asking for her to pass you the toy.

but she clicks her tongue, pushing your hand away gently and lubing up the toy herself.

you gulp, turning so you're laid flat on your back again, spreading your legs so she can see just how wet you were.

her eyes meet yours briefly, and you adore the way she checks in and makes sure you're okay with this, and you nod, giving her permission before she's sliding the dildo into you.

"oh shit-"

sana hums, pushing the little gold dildo in further, transfixed on the way your fingers move just a little rougher around your clit with every centimetre.

when she's completely inside you moan, clenching around the dildo, it was a comfortable size inside you.

"any pain?" her voice is rough, laced with barely concealed lust.

you whine, "n-no- you can move."

she starts pulling out, and it is almost painful the threat of being empty leaving you desperate, grinding down to try and keep her inside you, but she pushes back in, just a second faster this time and you moan unabashedly.

"f-fuck-" she starts up a rhythm, pulling out of you, then pushing back in, each time a second faster than the last.

you rub your clit, faster, harder, pulling on your nipple, switching to the other one to make sure both were attended to, you've never been built up this quickly. even when you were masturbating you had taken her advice and teased yourself for at least an hour before you got anywhere close to cumming.

you crave her, eyes lidded watching the way the veins in her arms become a little more visible when she thrusts in a little harder. you can hear the examination table shaking under you, you can't keep still at all, trying to meet her on each thrust, the tools and materials clattering about loudly. the possibility that someone could hear you outside flies across your mind but you can barely give it a second thought, in fact, it turns you on even more knowing that you were getting fucked by the most gorgeous doctor that you've been obsessed with the last fortnight, and on the other side of the door everyone was just going about their regular days, having no idea the heights of pleasure she was bringing you to.

"o-oh s-sana oh my god- holy fuck-"

"hmm? good?"

"yes yes so good- oh my god you feel so good inside me i'm gonna- oh fuck-"

"do you mind if i..."

you look down at her, vision a little blurry but you can tell she's asking to do something, "yes yes oh god- whatever- you can do whatever you want to me- oh fuck-"

you feel a soft hand come to rest on your stomach, sliding down to just a little below your belly button, and then it presses down just gently, "oh fuck!" your hips jolt upwards, pleasure running up your spine.

sana stops the pressure but keeps her hand on your lower stomach, "was that okay?"

"god yes- oh sana you're gonna make me cum please-"

so she presses down again, a little harder this time, and you feel the coil in you snap, white enroaching your vision, your thighs shaking, head tilted back, a high-pitched gasp leaving your mouth, feeling completely breathless.

sana waits for you to come down patiently, helping you through your orgasm, continuing her thrusts into your cunt but slower and much gentler.

eventually, you feel your back and hips meet the surface of the examination table under you again, breathing heavily and opening your eyes slowly.

sana's moved next to you, brushing strands of hair out of your face, you preen into her touch. but the next thing she does has you clenching tightly around the dildo that's still inside you. she brings her fingers to her mouth, sucking them in and making a show of wrapping her tongue around them. "exquisite."

you blush, clenching your thighs together at the sight.

she gives you a slow once-over again, before exhaling shakily and turning away, moving to the sink to clean up a little. you struggle a little to sit up, still recovering from your mind-shaking orgasm, and you're about to pull the dildo out of you when she speaks up again, still with her back turned to you.

"keep it inside you. that'll be your homework task for the next fortnight until our next session." she turns around, seeming to have collected herself a little better, her eyes fixed only on your face, purposely avoiding the rest of your body.

you sluggishly start to clean yourself up, wincing a little each time you accidentally move the dildo inside you.

"so you are able to come from penetration, you don't have to worry about that. and it's normal that you need some clitoral or other stimulation to be able to orgasm, often just penetration isn't enough. for the next fortnight i want you to continue masturbating, but i want you to practice leaving a dildo inside yourself afterwards, so your vaginal muscles get used to the feeling of something being inside. you can slowly work your way up the sizes, just don't push yourself and make sure you stop if it starts becoming too painful."

you nod, trying to bring your breathing back to a normal pace while you slip your clothes back on.

"alright. were there any other concerns you wanted to talk about?"

you shake your head, coming to a stand.

"okay. you can make the next appointment with the receptionist out front. i'll see you in 2 weeks y/n."

you nod, again, walking out the door when she opens it for you, but turning back before she can close it catching her a little by surprise, "thank you sana. i look forward to seeing you again soon." your voice is still a little scratchy but sana blushes, pursing her lips and nodding, closing the door after you.

you sigh a little dreamily, feeling more blissed out than you've been in a long time.

❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

this continues between the two of you for a few months.

you loved teasing sana and getting her out of her professional state. once you had worn lingerie under your coat to see her. you laugh remembering the way her eyes widened and her jaw dropped as soon as you took off your coat when you were in the privacy of her office. you'd let her fuck you however she wanted, and then you'd use each new experience to get you off during the fortnight that she'd give you new exercises, all increasing in intensity to help build you up to being able to take an average sized penis.

your favourite one to think about was that week that ben started complaining about how you'd been seeing sana for so long that surely you'd be able to take him by now. he insisted on coming to your next appointment but he was forced to sit outside and wait for you. little did he know you were on the other side of the door, a hand clamped over your mouth, the other holding you up against the door with your breasts pressed against it while sana railed into you from behind. of course she kept harnesses in her office. she had said they were mainly there for educational purposes, to show people how to put one on properly so it was safe and wasn't hurting anyone, it was just an added benefit that she also used them to pound into you with increasing dildo sizes each fortnight.

you lean onto your elbows while you watch her wash off the dildo she had just used on you. it was the biggest one yet and you're still fluttering a little remembering the way it filled you up while you rode her.

"what?" she turns around, drying off the dildo and slipping it back into your bag, pulling her shirt back on.

"just think you're nice to look at."

she rolls her eyes playfully, "shut up y/n."

you wiggle your eyebrows, "make me."

she glances at you, narrowing her eyes a little but making no effort to move closer, "as if you could go another round. you came so hard just then."

you giggle and sigh in satisfaction, resting your cheek on a hand, "i did. you're so good at what you do."

sana hums, finishing getting dressed and looking semi-presentable, settling back into her seat, but her expression changes a little while she studies you.

"what's up?"

"... have you tried having sex again with your boyfriend?"

"i told you i haven't."

she hums again, mind drifting elsewhere and you shrug, sitting up and starting to clean yourself up. "you can try now y'know? you were able to take that dildo and that's pretty much the average size of a penis already. unless he's bigger than that...?"

you scoff, shuffling into your pants, "no. he's actually smaller than the one you just used on me."

"then you should try having sex again."

you pull your shirt over your head, thinking over what she's saying. instead of sitting down in your own seat you climb into her lap, her arms wrapping around you automatically, hands gripping your waist while you make yourself comfortable. "doesn't that mean i won't be able to see you anymore?"

sana chuckles a little emptily, "i'm your sex therapist y/n. you knew this was going to end eventually."

"yeah but you don't fuck your other clients do you?"

sana laughs then, you feast in the sound. "no, no i don't."

"good. i was actually thinking..."

"hm?" she brings a hand up to your cheek, brushing slightly.

"would you... i don't know... like... i think about you when i get off yeah but i also think about you like... all the time..."

"mhm."

"so i was wondering if... i don't know if you felt the same if you wanted to like hang out outside of here? and like i don't mean to have sex i mean like go on a date maybe...?" you're shy, bringing this question up, blushing and avoiding her eyes.

"you have a boyfriend y/n." she deadpans.

"well yeah but i was thinking of breaking up with him anyway. now that you're bringing up having sex with him again i don't want that, and i don't want to stop seeing you. i guess just- just the threat that this all might be over soon- well i don't want it to be over. i like you sana." you say a little more firmly this time, meeting her eyes with decisiveness.

sana smiles then, all eyes, leaning in to peck you gently, "come back in a fortnight and we'll see. if you're no longer with him then... maaaybe i'll let you take me out."

your eyes brighten at her response, jumping out of her lap with excitement, "really?! oh my god i'll call him right now and do it-" you're reaching for your phone in your bag when she laughs, pulling you back into her

"don't do it over the phone silly. not even he deserves that."

you pout a little but it’s quickly wiped away when sana kisses you, lips slotting perfectly against yours with practiced ease. you sigh into her, addicted to the feeling, the taste, the smell of her. it was probably the easiest decision of your life, choosing your sex therapist over your boyfriend.

#sana #twice sana #minatozaki sana #sana x reader #twice x reader #sana smut #twice smut #sana imagines #twice imagines #twice sana x reader #twice sana smut #dovveri

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starburstsamo · 4 days ago

Text

think we're alone now; beating of our heart is the only sound

pairing: sammy bryant x f!reader

warnings: ben's little sister!reader, so like... brother's best friend!au vibe, but it's brother's partner!au... you know what i mean?; smut - oral (m and f!receiving), fingering, soft dom!sammy, unprotected sex, a little bit of choking, praise kink i guess, cum eating; secret relationship, a pinch of angst, and fluffffff

summary: for certain reasons, you have always avoided dating cops. but one time, you make an exception, and this exception so happens to be your brother's partner.

w/c: around 11k

a/n: another love letter from: me, to: sammy bryant.

You moved back to Los Angeles after you got tired of the cool and wet city of Seattle. Not only did you miss the weather, you also missed the things that came with it – the beach, the surfer community, the colors and fewer depressing days, chilling in the car when you were stuck in traffic… And you would never admit it to him, but you missed your brother too. Just a little.

You also loved this. Standing in the middle of a coffee shop and studying the new promo drinks, even though you knew you were going to end up getting your usual. Well, you supposed you could do that in Seattle too, but it didn’t make you so giddy there.

“I hear their white chocolate mocha is pretty good.”

You jumped a little at the voice before you turned to the source. Your eyes were met with a dark-haired man sporting a police uniform and a drink of his own.

“Is that what you got?” you asked, pointing at the to-go cup.

“No way,” he said, waving the cup in the air as he chuckled, “I’m too boring for that. I’m a regular, black coffee kinda guy.”

You nodded with a smile, turning your head back to the menu board. “You and me both.”

The officer’s brows furrowed, one of his fingers lifting from the surface of his cup and pointing it at you. “You must be the prettiest regular, black coffee kinda guy, then.”

You bit your cheek, side-eyeing him as you tried to stifle the smile that was creeping up on you. There was no way this guy was making your cheeks flush.

“I’m Sammy,” he introduced himself, passing his coffee from his right hand to the left, offering his palm to you. You shook it and told him your name. “Are you new to the area?”

“No. Well, yeah.” Sammy’s brows shot up at the contrasting words. “Kinda both. I just moved here from Seattle, but I grew up in LA,” you explained and Sammy gave you a nod.

“So, would it be too bold to ask for your number?”

You bounced on your feet, considering it. He was cute. And he was funny. But he was a police officer, for God’s sake. You only trusted a handful of those.

“I’m sorry,” you said apologetically, scrunching your face, “I don’t date cops. No offence.”

Sammy’s confident smile was replaced by a defeated one, the wrinkles around his eyes staying in place, although the spark disappeared.

“Okay, that’s fair. May I ask why? If it’s the uniform, I promise I never bring it on a date. Or home. Unless I need to wash it, of course.”

You chuckled, tipping your head down for a split second and Sammy followed your eyes with a tilt of his head.

“My brother is a cop. So it’s just… You know.”

Sammy didn’t know, not really, but he nodded anyway. He didn’t have any right to pry. You surely had your reasons. But…

“Well,” Sammy took out his notepad and scribbled down his number, “if there’s any type of emergency,” he tore the paper out and handed it to you, “or if you change your mind about dating cops, this is where you can reach me. One cop is enough, actually.”

Shit. He was charming. You took the paper and folded it in half, stuffing it in your pocket and thanking him.

“Enjoy your coffee,” he said and then he was on his way.

“No, I’m telling you, she liked me,” Sammy attempted to convince Ben, bouncing his thumb against the steering wheel.

“Sammy. 'I don’t date cops, because my brother’s one of them'? That’s the lamest excuse I have ever heard. She probably just wanted to let you down easily.”

The corner of Sammy’s mouth quirked upwards, frowning as he tried not to let Ben get to him.

“Whatever, man. She took my number, alright? I’m keeping my hopes up.”

As much as it pained you, you honestly couldn’t stop thinking about the police officer you met at the coffee shop.

You hated it when people made you reconsider your values, especially men. You felt like a hypocrite. But Sammy didn’t seem cocky, didn’t really use his rank to pick you up. Didn’t push when you told him no. And he was handsome. The truth is, you'd probably say yes right away if he wasn't wearing the uniform. So maybe you shouldn’t be so uptight and pigeonhole him.

You searched your pants for the piece of paper he gave you, taking your phone into your other hand as you held the items side by side, typing in the number. Then you pressed dial.

Beep.

“Bryant,” sounded from the other side, the voice deeper than you remembered.

“Um, hi. Is this Sammy? We met at the coffee shop the other day,” you said, reminding him of your name.

“Oh, yeah! Hi. Did something happen?”

“Well, yes. I’m in the middle of changing my mind about dating cops. You think you can help with that?”

You heard a soft laugh over the line.

“I don’t know. What does it entail?”

“I’m about to go for a stroll along the beach. Maybe get something to drink from one of those beach bars. So, I thought you could join me if you’d like and tell me about the pros and cons.”

Sammy agreed and one and a half hour later, you were walking on the pier with slushies in your hands. To be honest, your preconceptions were building up anticipation inside of you that made you tense almost throughout the whole date. You were just waiting for the moment he’d say something that would repulse you. And with your bias, just a small slip would be enough. But it never really came, or you just missed it and didn't care, because Sammy seemed genuine, confident but humble, and respectful.

He told you about all about him voluntarily stepping down as a detective after his partner had been killed. He didn’t try to hide that it still made him sad to this day, and it tugged at your heart.

The conversation felt natural, and you didn’t even realize it was so late when you circled back to the spot where you met up.

“Let me walk you to your car,” Sammy offered, figuring that you were parked somewhere close.

“Oh, I walked.”

Sammy paused, his eyes meeting yours. “You live nearby?”

“Yeah, like thirty minutes by foot.”

He huffed, his eyes went comically wide as he put a hand on the small of your back and steered you in the direction of his car. “Yeah, okay. I’m driving you home, then.”

“Thank you, but that’s not really necessary.”

“I’m not letting you walk fifteen blocks all by yourself,” Sammy said incredulously.

“Don’t worry, I have my pepper spray. I’m not an amateur.”

“Yeah,” he snorted, “I’m not even gonna tell you how well those things work. Please, let me do this. You don’t really have a choice, because even if you do talk me into letting you walk, I’m just gonna drive next to you until you decide to get your butt inside the car.”

“Is that a threat, Officer? I smell some elements of stalking too.”

“Yeah, well, we should have that nose checked because it seems to miss the real danger,” he said as he opened the passenger door of his car, rising his eyebrows expectantly.

With a roll of your eyes, you got in the car and Sammy carefully closed the door once you were seated.

The ride was short at this time of night. You caught yourself shamefully admiring Sammy’s face a few times, making him rotate his head in your direction when he felt your gaze. He didn’t say anything, though, sparing you any further embarrassment. But you felt the heat in your cheeks, and the butterflies in your stomach were restless too.

“Yeah, this is me.”

Sammy put the car in park and unbuckled his seat belt, leaning his head against the headrest.

“Thanks. I actually enjoyed spending time with you,” you smiled.

“Well, don’t sound too surprised,” he said sarcastically. “So, did you change your mind?”

Sammy’s head was tilted towards you, enough to be inviting, but not enough to invade your space. You glanced out of the passenger window, smiling to yourself before you turned back to him. His eyes flickered to your lips, so quick you’d almost miss it

God, he made you fuzzy for no apparent reason. You wanted to kiss him, to let yourself be pulled in. His front teeth were poking out of his mouth, and it made him look so imperfectly perfect.

“I’m getting there…” you said, thanking him again before getting out of the car.

God. You were actually killing him. But Sammy is nothing if not patient, and he definitely wasn’t counting on getting this far. But you did make his heart beat a bit faster when you glanced at his lips and bit your lip.

As much as you wanted him, this wasn’t you. You didn’t want to act impulsively and make any rash decisions. The date felt good, and you chose to leave it at that for the time being.

“You’re in a good mood today. D’you get laid or something?” Ben smirked at Sammy as they entered the briefing room.

“Or something,” Sammy said with a puffed up chest, sending a smile full of pride in Ben's direction.

“Yeah? Sooo, did the chick from the coffee shop text you?”

Sammy shot him a glance, his cheeks dimpling as his smile grew wider.

“Oh, man,” Ben laughed, patting his partner on the back. “Alright, I stand corrected. Congrats, bro. So, you takin' her out on a date?”

Sammy didn’t tell him that you’d already been on a date, because Ben would be busting his chops about not getting you into bed and he was in a too good of a mood to discuss that with him.

He did tell him that you were going to get some coffee later today and then head to the beach again, because apparently, you preferred spending time outside, which he respected.

Sammy liked spending time with you and didn't care where it was, he liked talking to you. You were sweet, but you didn’t suck up to him, didn’t try to act like you were perfect, didn't hold back, sometimes making his eyes go wide at whatever you said. But in those wide eyes of his, you were kind of flawless.

Actually, he loved going to the beach with you, because your hair shone under the beams and your eyes twinkled every time you looked at him.

Sammy didn’t know that you admired his eyes and his freckles just as much.

He made it a habit to drop you off at your apartment at the end of every date, and he let you set the pace. He was down bad and you must have known that he was dying to kiss you, because he felt like his eyes transformed into beating hearts when he looked at you. And he looked at you a lot.

And one night, when he parked his car in front if your building, you finally let yourself be pulled by them.

Reaching for his face, you leaned over the console and pressed your lips against his, your hand sliding to the nape of his neck and pulling him closer to you so you didn’t have to lean so far.

Sammy kissed you back immediately, his fingers tangling themselves in your hair and angling your head, his seatbelt digging into his chest.

When you scraped your fingernails against his scalp, he groaned, disconnecting your lips while keeping his forehead pressed against yours.

“Do you wanna come in?”

You pressed him against the door as soon as it closed, pulling his jacket off with you following it, sliding down his body and to your knees, impishly putting the jacket under your shins.

Your hands reached for his belt, clinking sounds echoing through the hallway as you unbuckled it before yanking both his pants and boxers down his legs.

Sammy’s hand reached down to your face, stroking his thumb over your cheek when you took his cock into your hands, his thickness stopping your fingers from creating a full circle.

And when you gave the first tug, his head fell against the door with a thud as he exhaled, relishing in the feeling of your soft hands pumping his cock while you let your thumb slide against his slit occasionally.

A moan escaped him when he felt the flat of your tongue drag itself from the base of his cock to the head where you wrapped your lips around him and slid back down as far as you could.

“Shit, you’re such a good girl,” he hissed through clenched teeth as he looked down, and then he felt his cock hit the back of your throat, making you gag, all teary-eyed.

The praise made you moan around him, sending vibrations through his body as you slid off of him, and when you freed his cock from the warmth of your mouth, strings of mixed saliva and precum connected you to his cock. He bent over and grabbed you under your chin, the need to kiss the fluids away overtaking him.

Sammy kissed you hard, manoeuvring your head as he pleased before he pulled you up, grunting out a deep come here.

He stepped out of the clothes that pooled around his feet and picked you up, his arms flexing with the added weight. Sammy didn’t break the kiss, not once, carrying you to your bedroom according to your instructions.

He put you down on your feet in front of your bed, breaking the kiss only to pull his shirt over his head. He smiled at you then, biting his lip when he reached for the hem of your dress and tugged upwards, leaving you in nothing but your black panties.

“So fucking beautiful,” he praised, cupping your breasts with his hands as he kissed you again, his lips traveling over your jaw, down your neck, until he was bent in an uncomfortable position just to latch his lips around your nipple.

He closed his teeth around you, nipping at the stiffened bud and forcing an abrupt moan from your throat, your fingers pulling on his hair and elicitng a groan from him, too.

Sammy stood to his full height again, one arm wrapping around your waist just to pick you up and lay you on the bed. Falling right over you, his hand reached down blindly, tugging on the band of your underwear for too long as he realized that it was impossible to rid you off it from this position, so he knelt up.

Once your panties were successfully discarded, he stayed on his knees and spread yours gently, his chest rising with shallow breaths.

“Already out of breath, Officer?” You had the audacity to tease. “I thought stamina was kind of a requirement in your field of work.”

Sammy scoffed, a smug smile playing on his lips as tugged you by your ankles closer to him, the undersides of your thighs pressed against his strong quads. Pressing his body against your front, he slipped an arm between the small of your back and the mattress and you let your hands fall to his wide shoulders, tracing the freckles there as his eyes raked over your face.

“Don’t poke the bear, sweetheart.”

Before you could retort, you were being flipped over onto your stomach, a gasp escaping your lungs. Sammy removed the pillows that were clearly in his way and instructed you to hold onto the bars of the headboard, situating you into a kneeling position, your back arched.

“Spread your legs wider,” he ordered as he knelt at your side, and you did as he asked. He shuffled on his knees closer to your body, dragging his fingertips down your spine until he reached your tailbone, goosebumps sizzling all over your skin. Then his fingers detoured to the globe of your ass and gave it a firm squeeze.

Your hips tilted on their own, chasing his hand as it ghosted over your skin. Sammy brought his other hand to your neck, wrapping his fingers around your throat and squeezing his thumb against your artery. His nose brushed your temple before he kissed over your cheek, angling your face towards him and kissing your pout away.

He released your lips with a soft smack and shifted on his knees an inch, straightening his posture and adjusting the hold he had on your neck.

Sammy’s other set of fingers finally touched you, lightly brushing over the wetness of your cunt. A shuddering breath released from your mouth when you felt his thumb being pressed into your hole while the rest of his fingers laid flat against your clit, cupping your whole cunt.

“Jesus, how long have you been this wet, hm?”

You whimpered at his words and you were glad that Sammy didn’t wait for an answer. He slipped his thumb out, circling the pond of slickness that was your entrance before he pushed back in and wiggled the finger against your walls.

The pressure was euphoric, the pad of his finger pushing all the right buttons inside of you to make your whole body buzz. His meaty thumb alone was stretching you out so good, and it made you wonder how you were going to take his cock.

You moaned out loud at the thought and let go of one of the bars, bringing your palm to the wrist at your neck, needing to touch him. To feel him. But Sammy, wasn’t having it and as soon as he felt your hand cover his, his movements stopped, his gaze switching from your ass to your face, eyes squinting.

“Put your hand back onto the headboard, or I’ll stop, and you bet your sweet ass that I won’t touch you again.”

Your whole body trembled and you did as he said. He turned your head to him before continuing.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice becoming softer which only made you wetter.

“Yes.”

Sammy gave you a nod and then he shifted again, the hold on your neck disappearing. You felt his palm splayed on your lower back as he pressed down until the back of his other hand hit the softness of your sheets and you were basically sitting on it.

“Fuck yourself on my finger.”

Your head snapped to him. Was he serious?

“What?”

“What? What’s not to understand, sweetheart? Ride my hand. Make yourself cum.”

You blinked, swallowing and returning your gaze to the wall in front of you as you started lifting your hips.

“Thaat’s it. Fuck, you’re swallowing my finger so fucking good.”

You felt awkward in this position, your hips faltering as you tried to pick up the pace. It didn’t help that all that Sammy did was curl his thumb every time you slid all the way down, before lifting your hips again, repeating the motion over and over again.

The next time his thumb was fully sheathed inside of you, you circled your hips, grinding against his fingers and creating a delicious stimulation against your throbbing clit.

“Yeaah, just like that. Look at you, a fucking natural.”

His praises spurred you on, but your movements weren’t enough to make you come. You didn’t have the strength, the speed, nor the leverage to fuck yourself on him, to use him like you really wanted to. You needed more.

“Sammy, please,” you whimpered, stopping your hips. Giving up.

“What? What do you need?”

“I need to cum,” you mewled, wiggling against his hand to relieve some of the ache from your clit.

“Then why did you stop?”

You were speechless. This was the first time your sexual partner was this communicative during sex. This controlling. You didn’t know how to act, and Sammy must have figured it out.

“Aww, does my babygirl need some help? Hm?” Sammy cooed, cupping your face with his free hand, his thumb soothing over your flushed skin as you looked at him with wide eyes. “Is that it? Do you want me to make you cum instead?”

“Mhm.” You nodded and Sammy smiled, all entitled and condescending.

“Use your words, sweetheart.”

Your heart beat faster as you tried not to feel humiliated.

“I want you to make me cum.”

“Good girl.” He brushed your cheek with the back of his fingers, pinching your chin before he leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear and sending shivers down your spine. “I’ll let it slide this time, but next time you have some smart-ass comments, I won’t be so nice. Understood?”

Jesus Christ. You actually wondered for a split second what he was capable of doing. You got the urge to test it, but you chose to fight it down.

“Yes.”

And with that, Sammy manhandled you into a position with your ass up, snaking his arm over your back and under your stomach, holding your hips up as he started ramming into your pussy with his thumb, while simultaneously rubbing the sensitive bundle of nerves with the four of his fingers.

You still kept your hold on the bars, only now your face was squished against the mattress. Your moans got louder with every glide of his thumb, occasionally slipping it down to your clit and flicking over it before he buried his finger back into your pussy.

Your walls fluttered around him, each stroke against that spongy spot was making your toes curl and soon, you started bucking your hips against his palm.

Sammy worked you up, and with a few more bumps and wiggles against your G-spot, you fell over the edge, orgasm rippling through you as he fingered you until you were reaching behind you and clasping your hand around his wrist with small no more’s.

Sammy took mercy on you, pulling his hand away from your sensitive pussy as he admired your shivering body. He dragged his nails softly against your skin, his cock twitching at the purrs leaving your mouth.

You brought your hips down, lying on your stomach, while Sammy positioned his body on his side, using his forearm to prop himself up. He traced his fingers over your back, drawing random patterns on your skin.

“I’m glad I changed my mind.”

Sammy laughed, his smile forming dimples in his cheeks making him look younger than he was.

“Yeah. Me too.”

When you finally caught your breath, you lifted yourself up, smashing your lips against Sammy’s and crawling over him. You forced him on his back as you threw your leg over his hips, straddling him and rubbing yourself over his hard cock. His hands ran up your thighs, thumbs creating temporary dents from how they dug into the softness of your skin.

He drew in a sharp breath as you kissed him, his eyes half open because he simply couldn’t stop looking at you. You snuck your tongue into his mouth, your fingers grasping his hair when he deepened the kiss by lifting his head from the pillow, trying to assert dominance. But then you angled your lips just right, the head of his cock barely slipping into the warmth of your cunt, but still causing him to moan and throw his head back into the mattress.

“Fuck,” he cursed and then you reached down, straightening your back and positioning him against your entrance properly. Sammy couldn’t tear his eyes off you as you struggled to take him all at once, hissing at the way your tight walls squeezed the shit out of the head of his cock. “Shit, I should have stretched you out first. You’re so fucking tight.” Yeah, his thumb definitely wasn’t enough.

You didn’t respond, too focused on sliding down his cock as painlessly as possible. You were so sexy like this, all desperate to fuck him, with that small crease between your brows and bitten lip. And as much as he was enjoying the view, he didn’t want to hurt you.

“Lie on your back, sweetheart,” he said, ready to flip you over, but you stopped him.

“No! I can do it. I just need a second.”

God, he would slam right up into you if he weren’t scared that he’d break you.

“Christ, you’re being such a good girl for me, aren’t you?”

Sammy at least brought his thumb to your clit, massaging it in small circles.

“Yeah,” you agreed mindlessly, making Sammy’s eyes snap to your face. You were so gone already. Only air in your head.

“Yeah,” he sighed, and sucked in his lips as you slid down another inch down, splitting yourself on his cock.

Sammy swore he couldn’t control it when his hips lifted themselves off the bed, just about a millimetre, but it made you mewl anyway.

Your palms braced themselves against his chest, your nails digging into his muscles. He had to remind you to breathe, and the stinging pressure only amplified when you finally slid all the way down, seating yourself against his hips.

Sammy moaned at the feeling, his eyes rolling back as he suppressed the need to buck up into you.

“Good job,” he commended and it was enough for you to lift your hips up, albeit painfully slow. It was easier for you to slide back down this time, your arousal combining with Sammy’s precum and creating a sticky mixture at the base of his cock. “You feel so fucking good. So hot.”

You finally looked away from where you were joined, locking eyes with Sammy’s. They were dark, blown out and full of lust. You lowered your upper body, your breasts pressing against his chest as you kissed him. You circled your hips, and this time, Sammy didn’t hold back, squeezing your hips before gently pressing upwards.

It made you hum into the kiss and he took it as a permission to do it again. Grabbing the flesh of your ass, he bent his knees and planted his feet against the mattress to give himself some leverage. Then he bucked up more forcefully, your body jolting against his and causing your lips to disconnect as you moaned.

He watched your face as he did it again, biting his lip when he saw your eyes roll back. He set a gradual pace, each thrust of his hips sharper than the last, your clit bumping against his pubic bone and applying dizzying pressure against the nub.

The lewd sounds of the slapping skin echoed through the room, combined with the gasps escaping your mouth. Sammy wrapped his arms around the small of your back, keeping you in place as he sped up his movements.

Your cheeks bounced against his snapping hips, and you had to brace yourself on your hands next to his ear, your fingers clutching the sheets.

This position left your breasts hanging close to his face and Sammy took the opportunity to lift his head, catching your nipple into his mouth. He sucked and nibbled as he drove into you, the bedsprings creaking under your bouncing bodies. He felt you spasm around him, your pussy sucking him in with every drag of his cock against your walls. Your cries got louder and his name was falling from your lips like prayer. It almost made him feel like a god.

You arched your back, your belly pressing against the firm muscles of his stomach and with three more thrusts, the coil in your stomach snapped, sending you over the edge.

Sammy started chasing his own orgasm as you shattered around him, riding you through your high with stammering hips. Once he was close, he flipped you on your back and let his cock slip out of your sensitive center, kneeling between your thighs while he pumped himself until he spilled over your stomach. He could’t hold in the moans that escaped him as he watched you getting covered in his cum.

Once his breaths went from shallow to deep again and his cock softened, he lowered himself on his heels.

“Shit, sorry.”

His words made you giggle, partly because of the oxytocin running through your body. A lazy grin appeared on your face. “What are you apologizing for?”

He jerked his head to the side, a knowing look on his face, because it was kind of obvious.

“Where’s your bathroom? Do you have something I can clean you up with?”

“Out the door to the left, there’s a washcloth hanging in the shower.”

Nodding, Sammy got to his feet with an exaggerated groan and it made you giggle again. He glanced at you over his shoulder with a what are you laughing at? look. You couldn’t wipe the smile off your face when you watched him trot butt-naked to the bathroom, catching a glimpse of the birthmark on his cheek.

When he came back, he was already in his boxers, washcloth in one hand and his pants in the other which he threw on the armchair you had in your bedroom. He also returned the pillows to where they belonged under your head, before he wiped away his spent, warmth spreading through you at the gentle touch.

When he came back again, after returning the towel into the bathroom, he threw himself on the bed, his body bouncing next to you.

“Are you alright?” he asked, bringing his hand to cup your face, his fingers playing with the hair by your ear and thumb swiping over your nose.

“Better than,” you smiled and he returned it, looking down in almost a bashful way, before he pecked your lips, releasing them with a gentle pop.

Gazing at each other then, you admired the color of his eyes and the small nose adorned by freckles. He truly was beautiful.

“I gotta go,” he said in a low voice, slurring the words out.

“You gotta?”

“Well…,” he began, the teasing tone returning, but still soft and a little high-pitched. “It really depends on the woman of the house. She has this rule about cops…” he rasped out with a playful roll of his eyes.

“I think she can make an exception.”

“Yeah?” He smiled, moving his face closer to yours and you nodded, repeating the word before he kissed you again. Sammy just couldn’t get enough of you.

Your dates became more frequent and eventually, you started seeing each other on daily basis. Sometimes you went to your place, sometimes you ended up at his. You started going on runs together and planned other activities if you both had free weekends.

Sammy was great, sweet and good-hearted, funny and sometimes fucking annoying. But you ate it all up.

Not to mention that the sex was amazing.

One morning, he had to borrow your brother’s old shirt, because he used his to wipe his cum off your ass and didn’t bring any change of clothes. It was a little tight, but it would suffice for the drive to work.

“I see you finally got style. Your coffee shop girl have something to do with it?” Ben teased when Sammy met him in the locker room, confusion flooding his face. “The shirt, bro. I think I even had the same one. A little out of fashion, but for you–“ Ben clicked his tongue and winked, making an OK sign with his fingers. “Kudos for the tighter fit, too. What’s next? Your hair?”

Normally, Sammy would come up with his own remarks, but all he could do this time was to watch Ben with careful eyes as he put on the white Underarmor shirt, wheels turning in Sammy’s head.

There’s no way.

Sammy changed quickly, throwing the borrowed shirt into his locker with more force than he intended. They did their usual routine, equipping the car with firearms and ammunition and searching for any leftover items from previous shift.

As they rolled out into the streets, Sammy couldn’t stop thinking about it. He should probably text you as soon as he had some time, otherwise his mind wouldn’t give him any rest. On the other hand, what if he found something he didn’t really wish to find out? Would that really help his case? Fuck.

Well, Sammy was restless, too impatient to wait as they cruised through the neighbourhood after responding to a help call.

“So… My sister is still on my ass about basically demoting myself from detective to patrol. It’s been years, and she’s driving me nuts,” Sammy set the bait, and Ben took it immediately.

“Yeah, sisters, man. As if managing their own life wasn’t enough.”

“You have a sister?”

Ben snorted.

“Yeah, man. Three,” he specified. And before Sammy could prod any further, Ben continued. “Actually, one of them just moved back from Seattle. Getting to re-know the city as we speak.”

Sammy’s head snapped to Ben, something close to a scowl pulling the muscles of his face as he stared at his partner over his shades

He forgot he was driving for a second– well, for more than a second, because the next thing he knew, Ben was yelling out his name and reaching for the wheel, steering the car around a cyclist.

“What the fuck, man? You alright?”

Sammy recovered quickly then.

“Yeah. Sorry.”

Ben made a note to keep a close eye on his partner for the rest of the shift, but brushed it off for now, going on a rant about wanting to become a detective too and asking Sammy for advice.

Sammy could not wait for the shift to be over. He was panicking and he needed someone to panic with. Except, he doubted that his partner would provide that service since Sammy was sleeping with his little sister. Oh, he was going to dramatically storm into your apartment, he knew it. He should probably give you a heads up.

Well, he didn’t have to.

You were perched on the bench in front of the police station, and when you saw Ben, followed by Sammy, your epiglottis closed up. No way.

When Sammy spotted you, you saw him tip his head back and roll his eyes towards the sky, as if asking some higher power to give him the strength, before he met your gaze again and shook his head subtly.

You didn’t even know what he meant by that, but instead of dwelling on that, you smiled at your brother as he greeted you with a half-hug.

“Alright, Ben, see you tomorrow,” Sammy said, trying to make his escape, but Ben stopped him.

“Sammy, wait.”

Sammy stopped reluctantly, the tip of his tongue prodding at his molars as his eyes flickered to you for a split second. “This is my sister I was telling you about. And this is Sammy Bryant, my partner.”

Sammy stuck out his hand and you took it, his lips quirked up and brows pinched together at the ridiculousness of the situation.

“Nice to meet you, Officer Bryant.”

“Likewise.”

Sammy had to give it to you, you definitely looked calmer than he felt. His hand lingered on yours, and Ben was the one to break you up with a nervous laugh.

Sammy was quick to say goodbye, desperate to get out of there, and while you went out for a coffee with your brother, Sammy decided to drive to your place, parking far enough so Ben wouldn’t see his car in case he was taking you home.

With Ben living in Castaic now, too, Sammy didn’t want to risk the chance of him appearing at his doorstep with you on his couch. He was proven today that fate had funny plans for him. Or for you, he wasn’t sure.

He sent you a text of course, informing you he was waiting for you near your apartment. And while stakeouts weren’t his favorite thing about his job, this made them seem like a piece of cake.

“So, now you see why I don’t date cops?” you asked him when you finally arrived home, and all Sammy could do was shrug.

“So, what do we do?”

“Well… We should tell him. I mean, the sooner the better. Like ripping off a band-aid,” you said, studying his face as Sammy chewed on his lips, seemingly on the fence about it. “Unless you want to end it…?”

Sammy met your eyes then, scowling at the idea.

“No, of course not." You felt relief wash over you. "It’s just… God, how did we not figure it out sooner? Where did my detective skills go?”

“Maybe the sex had something to do with it.”

Well, it was all easier said than done. It had been weeks since you discussed the ways of how to tell your brother. Should you speak to him together? Probably. But then it would seem like you were ganging up on him. Maybe you should tell him, you could calm him down in case he freaked. But that would seem like Sammy was just purposefully going behind his back, like he was’t even willing to face him. So maybe Sammy should tell him. He knew how to communicate worse things than this, so he could sit Ben down in his favorite restaurant, butter him up a bit and just get it out.

Shit. There was no good way to go about this.

You mentioned to Ben that you were seeing someone but didn’t give him any more details. And that was it, the conversation kind of ended there. You knew then that you weren’t able to tell him on your own. So, together it was.

However, both you and Sammy were stalling, and you often forgot about this whole mess of a situation when you were together, losing yourselves in each other’s presence. It was probably also because it was kind of exciting. To have this kind of secret, to be in this shared bubble with Sammy.

But it was harder on him, because he had to look Ben in the eye every single day and lie. Well, not lie per se, because the topic never really came up, but he still wasn’t truthful.

“My sister is actually seeing some guy. Wouldn’t even tell me his name or what he does,” Ben said one day, and it instantly made Sammy squirm in his seat, paranoia taking over him and making him think that Ben had found out somehow. I mean, he wasn’t stupid.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. And I mean, it’s her life, she knows what she’s doing. But I’m a little worried for her,” Ben said, causing Sammy to frown. “She never really had a serious relationship, you know. No doubt our deadbeat father had something to do with that, but...”

“So, you mean she’s like you? Changing her men like she changes her socks? Runs in the family?” Sammy tried to sound nonchalant, but Ben only put him on edge.

Ben chuckled at that.

“No, not like that. I think she just got so used to being on her own that she doesn’t want to put the energy into a relationship. To share her space. Or, she gets bored. I don’t know, man.” The car was now quiet, with Ben still pondering on his sister’s life choices while Sammy felt a lump in his throat. And to make it worse, Ben continued. “I mean, look at her, she couldn’t even settle down in a city for once. I’m just waiting for her to move back to Seattle or wherever the hell she chooses.”

Sammy was going to be sick.

“Right.”

Ben managed to numb Sammy’s head with all the crap he'd said and it made him feel scared all of a sudden. Was that what he was to you? Just a toy you’d throw away once you'd had your fill? After Tammi, he didn’t know what to think. He trusted her so many times and she let him down over and over again, and he wasn’t going to let you do the same.

“So, Ben told me an interesting thing today,” Sammy said, seated in your kitchen chair.

“Yeah? What’s that?” you asked, munching on a cookie as you came over to him and sat yourself sideways on his thigh, hooking your arm around his neck.

“He told me you’d never had a serious relationship,” Sammy said bluntly, watching your expression change to confusion.

“And? I never would’ve thought that would be a problem for you.” You took another bite, fully believing that Sammy wasn't going to make a scene about you never having a serious relationship.

“Well, he said that you either get bored or you don’t want to put up with the guys. Eventually. So I would like to know which group I’ll fall into.”

You clenched your jaw, studying his face with squinted eyes, trying to figure out if he was joking or not.

“Right now, you’re falling into a group of jerks, Sam. Are you serious?”

He chewed on his cheek, lifting an eyebrow as he shrugged. That expression finally made you get off his lap, turning away from him as you crossed your arms over your chest, thinking about what to say. Should you explain yourself? Wouldn’t that come across as defensive? What exactly would you be explaining anyway? Should you yell at him and kick him out? What were you supposed to do?

“I’ve never had a serious relationship, because the guys were either assholes or we just didn’t click.”

“And how do you decide that exactly?” Sammy stood up, stepping towards you in a swift motion. “Is every guy an asshole when it comes to you, then? You think you're too good for them?”

Your body span around, scoffing as you faced him. Unbelievable.

“Apparently, yeah. Look at yourself. Sammy, what the fuck did Ben tell you?” You tried to stop the tears from welling up in the corners of your eyes. “We’ve been seeing each other for months, because I actually like you. And what– would you expect me to settle for the first guy that throws me a smile and calls me kitten?” The tears slipped down, tickling your cheeks and it made you press the heels of your palms against your eye sockets. “Fuck!” you cursed through clenched teeth, frustrated. You seriously had no idea what he wanted from you.

Shaking your head, you turned away, wiping at your face on your walk to the bathroom. Once there, you sat down on the plush rug and leaned your back against the shower door, letting yourself weep.

In the kitchen, Sammy closed his eyes and let himself breathe. He needed to chill out. Needed to relax his fists.

All he wanted to do was to settle down, to finally meet the love of his life and spend the rest of his life with her. He had thought Tammi was it. And maybe you were right when you said that he expected you to settle for the first guy you’d dated, because that’s exactly what Sammy did with Tammi. And it was the stupidest thing he could have done, he had realized that a while ago, so he didn’t really know why his perspective changed back all of a sudden. You just made him fucking crazy.

A few minutes passed and Sammy headed to the bathroom, hoping you didn't lock yourself. He was greeted by the sight of you chewing on your lip and your jaw clenching, probably holding yourself from punching the fuck out of him. Your foot jumped up and down and your eyes rolled when you saw him. Yeah. You definitely wanted to deck him.

“I’m sorry,” Sammy said as he kneeled in front of you, but you avoided his gaze. “Can you look at me? Please?"

You only shook your head, another wave of tears rolling out. Sammy sighed, knowing there was no point in trying to make you.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, “I screwed up. I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions. But Ben said you couldn’t settle down, because of your father. That you’d move away again. And my ego just plummeted, while my insecurities skyrocketed.” Sammy watched another tear escape your eye, and his hand itched to swipe it away, but you were faster. “Because I want to be enough for you. I want to make you happy and I don’t want you to leave.”

Your eyes finally darted towards him and you sniffled, pinching the collar of your shirt and using the material to wipe your eyes.

“Next time, don’t listen to my fucking brother. Especially when he mentions our father,” you said, your tone weak as you still fought the lump in your throat, but it still had a warning bite to it. “And don’t you come fucking accusing me like that ever again. I know you’re not an asshole, but you sure were acting like one.”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

You shook your head, closing your eyes as you huffed. Swallowing, you shifted to your knees and extended your arms, wrapping them around his neck. He welcomed your hug with a relieved sigh, burying his nose into your neck and taking in your smell. Your cheek was squished against his shoulder, creating a wet spot on the soft material of his tactical, long-sleeve shirt, soaking it through. He rocked your body back and forth as he kissed the skin of your neck before pulling away and taking in your puffy face.

Sammy wiped the remaining wetness from your cheeks with his sleeve, even getting the snot under your nose which made you jerk away and a smile creep up on your face. “You’re disgusting.”

“What?” he watched you get up and stop in front of the mirror. “Just cleaning my mess.”

“You don’t have to kiss my ass. I forgave you.” You splashed your face with cold water before wiping it with your towel.

Normally, Sammy would make a lewd comment about kissing your ass, but now was really not the time. So he just settled for, “Can I stay?”

You rolled your eyes, a small smile still playing on your lips as they breathed out a quiet of course. You turned away from him then and exited the bathroom without another word.

Sammy knew you were trying to act indifferent. Pretending like this hadn’t somehow altered your relationship, and to be fair, you probably did want to sweep it under the rug. But he knew he’d hurt you, and just because you’d forgiven him didn’t mean he would act like nothing happened.

So, he cooked you dinner. Put on your favorite show with that actor that made you giggle and kick your feet. Let you think that the the attack you made with your piece during a chess game wasn’t against the rules. Traced shapes on your back for you to guess until you fell asleep. And the next morning, he made your favorite breakfast for you. Right after he made love to you.

Sammy realized soon that he shouldn’t have gotten pissed at what Ben said. He should have gotten selfishly proud about the fact that he was in your life unlike the assholes that couldn’t keep you, but instead, he almost fucked it up like them, letting his failed marriage with Tammi get the better of him.

But he couldn’t even compare his previous relationship to this one. Tammi had more than one screw loose, making their relationship doomed from the start. He just hadn’t realized it then, since his mind had been fogged by all the weed they smoked together.

Either way, Sammy was sure his mom would smack his head for the way he’d acted. She taught him better than this, not to mention she would’ve been pissed if he’d screwed it up before she got to meet the girl her son was always gushing about.

“We need to tell him,” you said after you cleaned the kitchen, your tone definitive, making Sammy pause as he rinsed his mouth with the mouthwash. He saw your reflection in the mirror, your arms crossed over your chest. He spat out the liquid and you continued, “I’m not really interested in letting any more misunderstandings ruin this relationship.”

“Okay,” Sammy agreed, wrinkles appearing on his forehead as he turned towards you, studying your face. “Are we good?”

Rolling your eyes, you came closer to him as he leaned against the sink, bracing himself with his palms against the edge. You circled both of his wrists with your fingers before sliding them up his forerarms, feeling the veins through his skin. You stood on your tiptoes to peck his lip. “No. We’re not good. That’s why I want to tell Ben, so he can kick your ass.”

“Ha. You’re so fucking funny,” Sammy mumbled, a teasing smile spreading on his face as he bobbed his head, catching your wrists and tugging, making you crash against his chest. “You know that? Know how hilarious you are? I should sell you to a fucking circus.”

You grinned at him and before you knew it, he was pinching your sides, making you cackle as you tried to escape his hold, but his forearm against your stomach trapped you to his body, and you fell victim to his torture.

Later that morning, you headed to work, leaving Sammy in your apartment since he had the day off anyway. You gave him your spare key and told him to lock the door once he left.

You agreed to drive to his place right after work, because you planned to spend the rest of the week at his house since Sammy actually had the whole weekend off, and you didn’t want to cramp up at your apartment.

Besides that, it was a great hiking area, and you already mapped out some trails which you were looking forward to, as well as getting some fresh air and spending time with Sammy.

You were balancing a bowl of ice-cream topped by a few M&M’s in your lap, your legs stretched over Sammy’s thighs as you lounged on his couch.

“Maybe we should like… pretend that we all bumped into each other at some café. That way it won’t feel like an intervention or something,” you proposed but before Sammy could reply, you interrupted by a knock on the door.

You both frowned, Sammy's tongue poking into his cheek as he lifted your legs off his lap before gently putting them down on the cushions. He headed to the door and when he opened it, he immediately braced his arm against the doorframe to block the view inside as he saw Ben standing on his porch.

“Hey, man. What are you doing here?” Sammy laughed nervously.

“Well, you were supposed to help with the detective exam questions, right?”

…

Shit. He was right. Sammy promised Ben to go over it with him and he totally fucking forgot.

“But seeing my sister’s car in your driveway, I’m here to ask, what the fuck is she doing here?”

Ben didn’t wait for an answer, shoving past Sammy and storming right into the living room.

“Ben, wait,” Sammy tried to stop him, but he wasn’t hearing it. You were, though, your eyes widening at the sound of your brother’s name followed by heavy stomps, and it made you straighten up as you prepared for the worst. Ben only scoffed when he came into view, pacing behind the couch.

“What the fuck is this?” he asked, dragging his hands down his face before extending them in front of him with palms up. “I mean, what the fuck, Sammy?”

“Ben, calm down,” you said, standing up and coming closer to him.

“Are you screwing my sister?”

“Ben!” you tried to get him to talk to you instead, but his focus was solely on Sammy.

“We’re dating,” Sammy corrected, but that really didn’t help anything.

“Oh! Oh, you’re dating. Well then, that explains everything, doesn’t it?” Ben fake-laughed, his hands on his hips now as he faced Sammy. “How long have you been dating?”

“A few months.”

Ben shook his head, sneering at his supposed friend. “So, you’ve been lying to my face for a few months?” Ben closed up on Sammy, their noses inches apart as if they were having a face-off. “You’re so full of shit, Sammy. All that bullshit about trusting your partner? You’re such a fucking hypocrite.”

“Ben, we didn’t know that–” you tried to reason, but Ben just hissed a save it at you. And you did.

“Listen to her, man,” Sammy continued, as calmly as possible. “I didn’t know you were her brother until recently.”

Ben shook his head again, snorting at the poor explanation, the sound followed by a painful silence. It was when Sammy met your gaze over Ben’s shoulder that your borther’s fingers grasped the front of Sammy’s shirt, and his fist connected with Sammy’s face, making him groan at the impact and his body twist away as his hand shot up to his face.

“What the fuck, Ben?” you screamed, but your brother was already storming out of the house. You didn’t follow him. Letting him cool off was the best choice for now.

Your feet carried you to Sammy, your hand coming to his back as he braced himself on the back of the couch with one arm.

“Let me see,” you said gently, willing his hand away with yours. You already saw his palm stained with blood, some of it even dripping on the floor. “Wait, you know what, let’s go to the bathroom, come on.”

“I’m fine,” he rasped out.

“Yeah, well, your couch won’t be if you stay here, and it’s not gonna be easy to get the bloody stains out. But you know that, don’t you? So, come on.”

Sammy groaned again, and you let him go ahead, getting some tissues first because you weren’t sure if he had any in the first-aid kit right now.

Meanwhile, Sammy washed his face only to have it covered in blood again as it trickled out of his nose. As soon as you brought the tissues, he used one to give his nose a good pinch, squeezing his eyes shut as he bent over the sink.

You were frowning next to him, gently petting his hair and tracing your fingers along his ear.

“Should I bring you an ice-pack?”

Sammy shook his head, his voice congested when he spoke. “Nah, I’m good.”

After a while, he sniffled, removing the bloody tissues before looking at his reflection. It seemed that the bleeding had stopped, but his nose was a dark shade of pink, a little swollen. Not broken though, hopefully. Some of the discoloration reached the skin under his eye too. He splashed some water on his face once again, cleaning himself up.

“I’m sorry,” you said from your place next to him, guilt washing over you. “I never thought he would react like this.”

“Yeah, well,” Sammy stood to his full height, facing you. “I deserved it. And it’s not your fault. He was right, anyway. I’m always saying that your partner is supposed to have your back, not go behind.”

“But you do have his back. He was never going to get killed because we were seeing each other.”

“It’s not just about getting killed… I just shouldn’t have lied,” Sammy bit his cheek, his eyes darting sideways.

You wrapped your arms around his ribcage, slotting yourself against him. You were relieved when you felt his arms wrap around you, his cheek landing itself on the crown of your head. You felt his chest expand as he took in a deep inhale.

You explained that it was probably Ben’s general overprotectiveness of women that made him lash out. That it wasn’t just them hiding their relationship. Several things came together at once.

“He’ll get over it. He looks up to you, Sam. He knows you’re a good man and this was just a lapse in judgement. From both of us.”

“Yeah. I think we’ll have to change our Sunday plans, though. I should pay him a visit before we go to work on Monday.”

“Of course. I’ll come with you.”

“Okay.”

Sammy proved to you again and again that he truly had his heart in the right place. And while he had his flaws, he was always trying to do good by people.

Ben was still angry when you arrived at his place. Or maybe more like annoyed. But he did let you both in, which you supposed was a good sign.

He was still throwing daggers in Sammy’s direction, but as you explained the whole situation, swearing that you had never meant to lie, Ben’s stares softened and his fists eventually unclenched. He even asked Sammy about his nose.

When you got up to leave, the two men shook hands, patting each other on their shoulders before Ben walked you out.

“Go ahead, I’ll catch up,” Sammy said, pushing you softly with his fingers as he handed you the keys to his car.

Once you were out of earshot, Sammy faced Ben.

“I’m sorry you found out this way, Ben. But I promise you that I’m not going to hurt her. You can… shoot me in the leg if I do,” Sammy said, only half-joking.

Ben huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. “I know. Now, get out of my face. Don’t keep my sister waiting.”

Sammy gave a tight-lipped smile and nodded. “See ya tomorrow.”

Ben watched your smile grow when Sammy got inside the car. The only reason he got over it so soon was because he knew Sammy was a good guy and if anyone could treat you right, it was him.

“So, now we’re like.. official.”

Sammy caged you against his kitchen counter, pressing himself to your front while you clasped your wrist with your hand behind his neck.

“I guess so.”

“Like, girlfriend-boyfriend official.”

You snorted at how ridiculous he sounded, but nodded anyway.

“I don’t know what you’re laughing at.”

“You sound like a thirteen-year-old.”

Sammy leaned down, pressing his lips against yours in a slow kiss, sucking on your lower lip before giving it a small nip, pulling a soft moan out of you.

“That felt like a thirteen-year-old to you?”

“Are you trying to get me to incriminate myself?”

Sammy tipped his head back, inhaling with an open mouth as he pretended to think about it, his eyes darting between random objects.

“Maybe I should bring the cuffs home sometime. See if you’re still runnin' your mouth when I have you tied to the bed. All helpless. Nowhere to run.”

“Or, I should tie you up. Torture you until you’re screaming for mercy.”

Sammy nearly burst out laughing, wrinkles appearing around his eyes, and you bit your cheek as he laughed at you.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” He flicked at your chin with his index finger, still smiling from ear to ear. “It’s just cute when you say it like that. I almost called my lawyer.”

“You’re an asshole,” you said, ready to pass around him, but he stopped by grabbing your hands and pressing you back into the counter with his hips, the edge digging into your ass.

“Wait, wait. I’ll let you cuff me up. Whatever you want.”

He brought your hands back behind his head and you played with the hair at the nape of his neck as he kissed you again.

He snaked his tongue between your lips, and without breaking the kiss, Sammy bent in his knees, grabbing you by the undersides of your thighs and lifting you up on the counter.

He spread your legs, situating himself between them as he leaned into you, your head gently thudding against the kitchen cabinet behind you.

Sammy’s fingers skimmed against your bare knees and up your thighs, teasingly slipping under the hem of your shorts until they reached for the band and started tugging.

“Wait.” You broke the kiss and his hands paused. “I don’t want to make a mess in your kitchen.”

“Why?”

“Well… I don’t know. You’re okay with it?”

He huffed out a laugh.

“Yeah,” he yanked on your shorts with all the strength he had, making your body jerk forward a little. “I want to fuck you right here, so I have something to reminisce about every time I make us dinner.” He tugged again and this time your shorts came free along with your panties.

Sammy got down on his knees, and as soon as his face was in front of your center, he inhaled, taking in your scent. You still couldn’t get used to how shameless he was about it. And not only that, but sex in general.

He kissed along your thigh first, opening his mouth wide and sinking his teeth into the flesh. It made you yelp, and all he could do was unlatch himself from you and admire the dents in your skin. He brought his head closer to your center then, letting his forehead rest against your abdomen and his curls tickle your skin as he stuck his tongue out, licking you from your hole all the way up to your clit.

Your legs snapped close around his head, but he was quick to spread them apart with his hands circling your ankles and keeping you from closing them again, all while sucking on your throbbing clit.

Your hand came down to the back of his head, grasping his hairr and trying not to tug too hard as he grazed his teeth against the sensitive nub.

Sammy was watching you as you threw your head back, revelling in the was his tongue massaged your slit, kissing and slurping sloppily at your cunt. You moaned above him and it was the sweetest sound he had ever heard.

Your nails scraped against the nape of his neck when his tongue plunged into you, and he had to flex his arms as your legs threatened to close once again.

He fucked you with the wet muscle, and when he felt you spasm around him, he withdrew it, returning his focus to your puffy clit. He sucked on you while drawing figure eights against the bundle, making your hips twitch against him as you neared the end.

It all came crashing down when he freed one of your legs and pushed two of his fingers into your cunt, hooking them inside and massaging the spongy spot.

Your hand tightened behind his neck, nails digging into his skin and creating small crescents, while your other arm shot up, palm slamming against the cupboard as your orgasm rippled through you.

He fingered you through it, and usually, he would stop once you started shoving at his head or his hand, but this time, he was glued to you, sucking on you like a leech.

You cried out a few stop's, and no more's, but to no avail.

You felt like you were on a roller coaster, coming down the railway track only to ascend again.

You were panting above him, and he quickened the pace of his fingers, slamming them into you as he kept his lips clasped around your sensitive clit, shaking his head from side to side, making you scream his name.

You hit him with your free knee as you came for the second time, trying to escape his working mouth and fingers in any way you could, but Sammy didn’t care. He let your heel dig into his back, to scrunch up his shirt as your thigh slapped itself against his ear.

When Sammy finally removed himself, he grabbed your leg again and you felt your wetness against your calf. He stayed on his knees watching your stomach move up and down, before his eyes drifted to your twitching cunt.

Sammy watched your cum dribble down onto the countertop, and he could’t help but ghost his fingers over the length of your pussy, making your hips jerk, before dipping them in the pool of your wetness decorating the marble surface. He brought his fingers to your mouth, and you licked at them, cleaning them with your tongue as you tasted yourself.

Sammy took you off the counter then, turning you around and bending you over as he unbuckled the belt of his jeans.

The clasps bit into your skin as he fucked you against the counter, your brains dissolving to the extent that you didn’t even think twice when he asked you to clean the mess you made. You licked it off with your tongue, some of it getting onto your nose before he grabbed you by your neck and yanked you upwards, your body arching against him. He kissed your cum-covered lips, tasting you one last time, before he made you cum around in cock, with Sammy following shortly after.

Your legs almost gave up on you, and if it wasn’t for Sammy holding you up, you would have probably toppled to the ground.

When you were able to stand on your own, you went to take a shower while Sammy really cleaned the countertop, only because you shot him a look when he half-joked that he wouldn’t mind to let it get dry and you know… 'leave it like that'.

He took a shower right after you before joining you on the couch only in his shorts. You snuggled into his bare chest, your cheek against his collar bone as you looked up at him, letting yourself admire him again, his cheeks still a little pink, his lips curled into a soft smile while his eyes looked so warm and loving.

Your eyelashes fluttered as you glanced down before looking back up.

“I love you,” you said, and Sammy leaned down to kiss your nose.

“Are you saying that because of the sex?”

You knew he was teasing, your cheeks cramping from the widened smile as you slowly swung your from side to side.

“You’re horrible. You can’t be serious for even just one second.”

“Yeah, because you wouldn’t even like me if I tried to play out a rom-com scene with you.”

And he was right. It was his loud, annoying ass that you loved about him. Among other things.

“But,” he said as he pinched your chin between his thumb and index, making you look at him, “I love you, too.”

fin.

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waynes-multiverse · 2 months ago

Text

Time After Time – Chapter 4

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

Pairing: Soldier Boy x supe!Reader

Warnings: 18+ for language, reader is a supe with chronokinesis (time manipulation), 1942 says hi, SB being a nice and kind human, angst, mentions of animal cruelty, fluff, humor, slow burn, a super cliché makeover moment

Word Count: 10.1k

Posted on Patreon March 21, 2025

A/N: Heads up! My responses will still be a little slow. The boys are sick and I'm the last one standing. Haven't slept a lot this week lol. In other news – we're beginning our deep dive into Ben's past and doing a little bonding. Enjoy! 😉 ✨ Chapter title comes from Gone with the Wind (1939)

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Chapter 4: After All, Tomorrow Is Another Day

You opened your eyes to soft sunlight filtering through heavy curtains. The room was huge, as was the bed, but it was the unfamiliarity of it all that made you shift uncomfortably in the plush sheets.

The clothes Ben had lent you felt strange. You couldn’t help but remember the quiet tension between you two in his father’s study, the moment you both had almost crossed some invisible line, and then he’d pulled away like it had never been there.

Still, you couldn't shake the pull he had on you. The more you thought about it, the more you realized that his kindness was a distraction – an unexpected one. His presence stirred something deep inside you, and you hated it. You needed to fucking leave. Fast.

You forced yourself to get up, the cool hardwood floors sending a shiver up your spine as you made your way to the door. You didn’t belong here – not in this house, not in this time. You needed to escape before things got any more goddamn complicated.

You descended the grand staircase, the weight of the mansion pressing down on you once more, its silence almost suffocating. The sound of your footsteps echoed through the empty hall before Ben already appeared at the bottom of the stairs.

How the fuck was he doing that? He didn’t have super-hearing yet, did he?

“Hey, you’re up early,” he greeted you with a brief flick of his eyes as he adjusted the cufflinks in his shirt.

He was dressed impeccably in a sharp, charcoal gray, three-piece suit that made him look every bit the man his father expected him to be. But he didn’t seem happy.

You had gathered enough courage to speak by the time you reached the last step – and him. “Yeah, uh, I was wondering if we could maybe get a jump start on my… departure?”

Ben bobbed his head, lips pursed, but avoided looking straight into your eyes. “Sure, yeah,” he said at first, but you knew there’d be more. A lot more. “I just have to drop by the office and take care of a few things. But I told Florence, our housekeeper, to take good care of you. She’s already prepared breakfast for you in the dining room. Anything you need, just tell her, and she’ll get it for you. Make yourself at home, okay?”

What the fucking fuck was happening?

Your mouth opened and closed a few times before you ultimately found the words. “Am I–“ Ben’s head tilted at you, a hint of amusement and curiosity on his face. “Am I a hostage?”

He barked a loud laugh at your question, but then instantly lowered the volume to a more soothing tone. “No, no, of course not. You can leave anytime, sweetheart,” he assured you, and miraculously, you believed him. “Look, if you want to leave, I’ll take you to the train station or whatever right now. I just figured, you know, you seemed like you needed a little more time. I mean, do you know yet where you’re going next?”

“I told you. New York.” You folded your arms, shrugging.

“You have a place there? A home? Family? Friends? What?” he badgered on, crossing his own arms over his broad chest with a scrutinizing look.

“Yes.”

“Which one?”

Shit.

You exhaled a frustrated sigh. This was getting old. “Why d’you care?”

Ben seemed caught off guard by the sudden sharpness in your voice. But then his lips curled into a half-smile, too tight at the corners, as he casually brushed off your question. “Yeah, guess I’m not supposed to care, right?”

He let out a short snort that almost sounded like an inside joke, his eyes flickering to the side, posture stiffening ever so slightly. He took a step back from you, adjusting his cufflinks again as if the distance and mindless fumbling could redirect the conversation, but the subtle grind of his jaw betrayed him.

You hesitated for a beat, but then decided to tell the truth. “Look, I-, I don’t really have anything in New York. I just figured I could find… something there, you know?”

Saying the words out loud caused a wave of panic to rise in your chest. He was right. Even if you left, you had no place to go and no idea how to get your abilities back yet.

“Listen, don’t worry about overstaying your welcome, alright?” Ben said then as if he could feel the anxiety taking over you. His eyes sized you up, wondering if you would push back again. “Take your time, sweetheart. Really, there’s no need to rush, okay?” A tame smile played across his lips. “I-, uh, I don’t mind the company. Makes the house feel a little less empty.”

Fucking hell…

You wanted to tell him to stop – stop being so fucking considerate and sweet when all you wanted was to disappear. But your throat tightened, and you couldn’t bring yourself to speak. So you just nodded and forced a smile, one that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Alright.” Ben gave a satisfied nod. “I’ll be in the office. You have a good day, sweetheart.”

Shit. By the affectionate gleam in his green eyes, you could tell he was enjoying this scene a little too much. You wouldn’t play The Donna Reed Show with him – and even that was still more than a decade of progressive thought away. All that was missing from his goodbye was a kiss to your temple and the sentence, “Can’t wait to see what you have cooked for dinner tonight, honey!”

“By the way, I arranged for my mother’s tailor to come by this afternoon,” he added on his way to the front door.

“What?!”

Oh, you didn’t like this at all…

Ben only laughed at your gasp of horror. “Don’t worry. I’ll be back in time. Not throwing you to the wolves alone,” he quipped.

Needless to say, that didn’t comfort you in the slightest.

“Wait, what?!”

Ben gave you a patient smile, his amusement still visible before it morphed to a more teasing nature. “Look, as much as I enjoy seeing you in my clothes, sweetheart, I figured we should get you something more… fitting. Especially if you still plan your escape to the big, wide world out there.”

Before you could say another word, he was already disappearing out the door, his footsteps echoing as they faded into the distance. However, you didn’t remain alone for long.

“Miss?” A soft voice interrupted your thoughts.

You turned to find a woman in a worn, but well-kept uniform suddenly standing in the foyer. She must have been the housekeeper Ben told you about – Florence.

Her face was kind, lined with the wear of years spent in this house, but there was a warmth in her smile that made her seem less like staff and more like family.

“Would you like something to eat, miss? It’s all ready for you in the sunroom.” Her voice was almost motherly, comforting, as if she’d been saying the same thing to Ben since he was a child.

You blinked at the mention of something called a sunroom. Sure, you’d heard of it, but you had never seen one nor had you ever known someone to own one. You’d grown up in a trailer park in Jersey, then lived in small and shabby cabin in the woods with a lot plumbing issues, and now in a shoebox apartment in a sketchy part of New York.

You glanced down the hallway at the dark, opulent, and intimidating dining room and figured the sunroom surely sounded… happier. But you didn’t want to eat alone in a big, empty mansion, your eyes landing on the housekeeper.

Florence had probably seen a lot over the years in this household. Maybe Ben wasn’t the only source of information around.

Since you couldn’t leave and Ben was so obviously avoiding you and your departure plans, you figured you could spend the day snooping.

This place was Soldier Boy’s diary, after all.

“I was thinking... maybe I could have breakfast with you? In the kitchen?” you asked her with a shy, yet friendly smile.

Florence’s brow rose in obvious surprise but quickly returned your smile. “Of course, miss. I can’t say I’ve ever had company for breakfast before since I’ve worked here, but I’d be glad to have you join me.”

Well, you had always loved being a little rule breaker.

You followed her into the kitchen, where the heavenly smell of eggs, bacon, and freshly brewed coffee wound its way to your nose. Your stomach suddenly grumbled. You hadn’t fucking eaten since that piece of birthday cake Annie had brought in that morning in the office.

It already felt like a lifetime ago. Had it been chocolate cake or red velvet? Why couldn’t you remember?

Swallowing, your gaze wandered around the kitchen as the housekeeper already bustled around, placing a plate down on an old oak table in the middle of the room. It was a warm, cozy space despite its size, shelves with china and silver lining the walls. Another fire crackled in the corner – they pretty much had a fucking fireplace in every room of this house.

You thanked Florence with a smile as you sat down, already stuffing a forkful of eggs into your mouth. “How long have you worked here, Florence?”

“Oh, I’ve known Benjamin since he was born.” She laughed softly as she continued working by the counters. “My mother had already worked for his grandfather.”

“Wow, so I guess you know Benjamin pretty well,” you said, trying to sound as casual as possible.

“I do.” Florence chuckled but then let out a soft, nostalgic sigh. “He always had a lot to say, even as a little boy. Too much sometimes, if you ask me,” she quipped.

Yeah, you knew what she meant. The supe you knew would go on for hours about his not-so-glamorous stories of the important parties he’d attended and the more important celebrities he’d fucked. And you’d sit there, slowly dying inside, wishing he had the ability to contract laryngitis.

But the current version of him seemed more muted. Sometimes, you’d gotten glimpses of the bragging, the fuckboi attitude, and the spoiled brat who couldn’t accept no for an answer. Last night, though, he’d been more honest than you’d ever seen him.

“Does he always talk a lot?” you asked, your fingers playing with a piece of bacon.

Florence sighed softly, wiping her hands on her apron. “Back when he was a boy, he could never stop talking. Always asking questions, always trying to be the best at everything. It’s a little different now. More weight on his shoulders,” she explained. “Mr. Brooks, well... he’s always had big plans for Benjamin. Too big, in my opinion.”

You only nodded in quiet understanding. The whole house was screaming it; she didn’t have to say more.

“You’re not from around here, are you?” Florence asked after a beat, watching you with a curious eye.

Of course the focus would fall back on you eventually. Here, you were the odd one.

You set your fork down and met her gaze with a smile. “You could say that, yeah.”

She didn’t fully reciprocate your smile, though, her expression turning thoughtful. “Benjamin used to bring strays home all the time. Cats, dogs, even little birds,” she said, and you didn’t like where this conversation was headed. “Poor things, starving or hurt, and he’d nurse them back to health. Always said it was his way of helping,” she continued, chuckling softly under her breath. “I guess he thought he could save the world with kindness. That was before he started... well, before his father started making sure he knew what was… right.”

“What do you mean?” The creases of your brow deepened, the eerie feeling in the pit of your stomach increasing.

“Here, take my coat. You poor thing must be freezing. Look at you, you’re shaking.”

Her hands stilled mid-wipe on the countertop. “One day, Benjamin brought home a small dog. Old, injured… it could hardly walk. His father... he made him kill it.” She looked at you then, her eyes sharp. “To teach him a lesson. About weakness. He said a man can’t be soft. That weakness could bring the whole family down. Benjamin never brought a stray home again after that.”

Until you.

That was her underlying message. Florence was giving you a warning. Suddenly, you weren’t all that hungry anymore. You’d swallowed enough for one morning.

Florence’s eyes softened as if she could sense your unease. She lowered her voice, leaning in closer as she wiped down the oak table in front of you. “Listen, miss, I don’t know what’s going on here, but you’d better leave before his father comes back.” Her tone was stern – protective. Apparently, one person in this house was looking out for Ben after all. It was just someone you hadn’t expected. “He’s a good boy, but his father’s a hard man. When he returns, all this–,” her eyes pierced into you, “–won’t be tolerated. Benjamin’s already been walking a tightrope with him. I don’t want you to be another problem for him.”

Her words hit you harder than expected. You nodded slowly, a cold shiver running down your spine as you realized just how precarious your situation really was. You weren’t here just because of a little time-traveling mishap. You were a complication – an inconvenience to the best-laid plans. She had seen what happened when Ben’s father decided that someone didn’t belong. And right now, you were the one who didn’t belong.

“I’ve told you what I can. Just-... don’t stay too long, miss. For your sake, and his.”

The mansion felt different in the afternoon – quieter, almost as if it were suspending its breath in anticipation for its owners to arrive. The morning, on the other hand, had been filled with staff scurrying around.

There was George, the groundskeeper and repairmen, who’d spent an hour switching broken lightbulbs in the endless corridors. You followed him to his work shed out back, finding a gigantic garden clad in winter magic as you chatted vividly with the sweet, older man. Soon, you started to freeze, though Ben had left his wool coat behind for you with a handwritten note, which was handed to you by Florence.

In case you go outside to look for an escape route…

Which brought you to your third encounter this morning – Ray, the chauffeur. He’d sought you out after breakfast with another message from his boss to you: “Mr. Benjamin wanted me to tell you that you’re allowed to use me for any getaway plans you may have.”

So, the younger version of Soldier Boy actually had a sense of humor. Who knew?

But even as you drifted aimlessly through the mansion, exploring one giant and overwhelming room after the next, your mind couldn’t free itself from the haunting conversation with Florence. You wouldn’t have cared if you caused trouble for Soldier Boy, but for some reason, you didn’t want Ben to suffer more.

Sure, his 80-years-older counterpart was the devil reincarnated, but this version of him had treated you only with kindness, the two sides of the same coin sometimes hard to reconcile.

Your sympathy, however, wavered slightly when you met the last two members of the staff – the maids, Frances and Dottie. Frances was the older one, probably in her forties, and didn’t pay much attention to you, going about her chores. Dottie, a girl in her early twenties, on the other hand, sent you a subtle glare every time you passed her in a hallway. If looks could kill, you would’ve been dead by noon.

As her narrowed eyes particularly stared at your choice of outfit, Ben’s shirt, you quickly sensed why she might not like you.

The man really was a fucking dog.

When Florence moved to do laundry, you offered to help, but she quickly shooed you away, more or less telling you to stop getting her into trouble. So, you kept cautiously wandering around like the ghosts that haunted this home. You took in all the portraits of solemn men in expensive suits, the velvet drapes, the old-world furniture that shone with polish and pride. Spying a beautiful grand piano in the living room tempted you to tickle its ivories, but you didn’t know if it was allowed or even welcomed.

At this point, you certainly didn’t want to cause more trouble.

You ambled down another hallway, and just as you rounded the corner, the front door swung open, and Ben stepped inside.

“Are you always this curious?” he asked with a grin, leaving coat, hat, and scarf with Florence, who had hurried to his side as soon as she heard him come home.

Again, it explained so much about the future version of him. You had almost rolled your eyes but tried to remind yourself it really wasn’t his fault that everyone catered to his needs. This whole house and life was designed to turn him into a spoiled, careless man-child, taught to eat his feelings.

And as you observed Florence’s devotion to him, you suddenly saw the pattern as clear as day and knew you could never, ever unsee it afterward. His future counterpart had certainly shown a… preference in older housekeepers and maids – sexually.

You stiffened a bit, feeling like you were just caught red-handed in his diary – or his underwear drawer. “I… well, I was just exploring. It’s a… big house,” you deflected from your disturbing thoughts.

His tongue licked over his bottom lip as he nodded. “Yeah, I know what you mean. Sometimes feels like it can swallow you whole.” He paused, probably realizing he let too much slip. “You find anything interesting?”

You gave an innocent shake of your head. “Not really. A lot of portraits of your ancestors, and some... old furniture.”

“Ah, yeah, there’s a lot of that.” He chuckled softly, the sound rich and warm. But when you met his eyes, you found more pain than anything else. “My father loves his legacy. It’s like living inside a museum sometimes.” He gave a shrug of his broad shoulders that was supposed to convince you he wasn’t bothered by that fact.

It failed, though. You hadn’t been able to pinpoint it until he said it, but walking through the mansion felt like taking a stroll through the Natural History Museum.

“So, uhm, how was your day?” you asked and would’ve loved to add a sarcastic honey. But again, it wasn’t his fault this time period was still domesticating women.

“Good. The usual, I guess,” he said casually, but you could tell by the small smile grazing his lips that he was happy you’d asked. “How was yours, sweetheart? Aside from exploring and scheming an escape plan?”

You giggled softly and gave him a smile that was almost shy. “Good so far. I had a lovely breakfast with Florence in the kitchen.”

Ben’s brow raised in surprise, but his smile hadn’t faded entirely. “You ate with the housekeeper in the kitchen?”

“Yeah.” You gave a nod before your brow puckered. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get her into trouble. She-… she isn’t, right?”

“Wha-… No, no, not at all,” Ben assured you, chuckling. “I just-… well, I’ve lived here for a little over twenty years, and I’ve never had breakfast before in the kitchen.”

“Huh, well, you should try it sometime. It’s fun.” You gave him a shrug, grinning.

“I’ll think about it,” he said and cocked a brow, his eyes dragging over your frame – the shirt of his you wore – with that little leer of his. “Do you always do what’s fun, sweetheart?”

The chime of the doorbell came as a welcome interruption and made both your heads turn toward the sound.

Saved by the bell. Your heart still thundered the storm of the century in your chest as Florence hurried to the front door once more. You had almost wanted him to step closer. You’d never experienced that feeling before with him.

“The seamstress is here, miss,” Florence said, swiftly ushering you toward another hallway. “Right this way.”

Fuck. You’d completely forgotten about that. You knew you needed some kind of period-appropriate attire. But why couldn’t he just take you to the 1942 equivalent of a V&M or Vara? You weren’t in the mood to entertain any makeover shenanigans.

“See you in a bit,” Ben said and fled down the opposite direction.

“Whoa! Hey! Where are you going? You said you weren’t going to leave me alone for this,” you said, your voice disturbingly close to a whine.

Ben must’ve sensed the panic blinking like an evacuation alarm in your eyes because he actually took a few steps closer to you again. “Five minutes, alright? Just have to take this to the study.” He gestured to a briefcase in his hand. “I’ll be right with you, sweetheart.”

Giving a hesitant nod, you couldn’t understand your own feelings. A big part of you hated to have him near you, hated talking to him, and hated to accept his help. Why him, of all the people on this planet? But there was another part of you that desperately sought the comfort his familiarity offered in an unfamiliar place.

Florence led you to the drawing room – a space specifically designed for entertaining guests. In your childhood, a burning trash can in the trailer park had served as your entertainment space for guests. In New York, it was your pull-up couch/bed. But sure, why not add an extra room if you’re shitting money?

The moment you stepped into the room where the tailor was waiting, your own personal nightmare unfolded in front of you as you were greeted by a flurry of fabric and an energetic woman in her forties, with short, stylishly curled hair and glasses perched on her nose. She was perpetually in motion, constantly fidgeting, muttering to herself as she laid out fabric swatches with dramatic flair. Her hands fluttered in the air like a conductor preparing for a grand symphony.

She straightened up when she saw you, eyes lighting up with immediate interest. “Ah, so you’re the one Benjamin’s been telling me about!” Her voice was brisk but warm, and she wasted no time in circling you like a hawk. Her eyes twinkled behind her glasses, scanning you from head to toe with exaggerated precision, as though the idea of fitting you for a dress was as exciting as solving a puzzle. “We’re going to make you absolutely stunning, darling. Don’t you worry about a thing.”

You hesitated at the doorway, giving her a tentative smile. “I’m really not sure about all of this. I’m not exactly–”

She waved her hand dismissively, cutting you off mid-sentence. “Not exactly what, my dear? Feminine? Pish posh. All women are feminine. It’s simply a matter of presentation.” She paused to give you another once-over, her eyes practically sparkling as she stepped closer, her hands bunching and tucking Ben’s loose shirt in various ways around your body. Were tailors always this handsy? “You have the shape, the frame. We’ll just need to... refine it.” She grinned, showing an alarming amount of enthusiasm for fabric and needles. “You’ll look fantastic in no time. You’ll be the talk of every high society ball, I assure you.”

“Huh? What now?” You blinked, unsure if you should laugh or run away. Did Effie Trinket just mention the word ball? You did not like the sound of that.

You shot a glance toward the door upon hearing a quiet creak, and Ben stepped inside, the faintest grin tugging at the corners of his mouth as he took in the scene. He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, and your eyes locked with his, silently asking him for a goddamn rescue. But instead, he looked entertained, maybe even a little pleased, which was infuriating, to say the least.

“You okay in here?” Ben asked, voice tinged with amusement as his green eyes darted between you and the seamstress.

“Uh-huh.” You nodded rather unsurely, your nerves ticking like a bomb inside of you. “Feeling like a tribute in the Hunger Games…” you muttered under your breath, aware your audience wouldn’t understand a pop culture reference from the 21st century. At least, the knowledge that Hughie and Annie would have laughed soothed your anxiety slightly.

The tailor, as if summoned by Ben’s voice, immediately sprang to action, striding toward him with a look of sheer joy. “Ah, Benjamin! What perfect timing! We’re just about to turn your lovely guest into a proper lady. You’ve done well bringing her here.” She beamed, patting Ben on the arm like a proud parent. “Wherever did you find this girl?”

“Uh… On the street.” Ben smirked, cleverly disguising the truth as a joke.

The seamstress threw him a pointed look at his antics, shaking her head. “Always a joker, this boy… However do you put up with him?”

“Oh, I have no idea.” You grinned, your eyes flickering mischievously to Ben. “It’s exhausting!”

Ben’s brow knitted, but to your surprise, he was more amused than anything else with your response.

“Oh, your mother will be so pleased when she comes back,” the tailor tells him wistfully before turning her attention back to you. “She always wanted a daughter to show off at tea parties. She’ll have you parading around Philadelphia’s finest circles in no time.”

Tea parties? Balls? Fuck no! Not to mention you wanted to be long gone before his parents got back, Florence’s warning still all too fresh in your mind.

Panicked, you blinked at Ben, while the tailor already swung a measuring tape around you like a ribbon.

“Uh, Ms. Vivian, my guest won’t be here anymore when my mother returns,” Ben informed her, approaching you as you stood in the middle of the room like a statue in an art gallery. “So, maybe we tone it down a little with the tea parties and the ball gowns.” He then looked at you, his eyes reassuring and encouraging. “Just tell her what you want, sweetheart. I told you – I got you.” He winked.

Your cheeks involuntarily blushed. Honestly, that little gesture might have been the nicest fucking thing he’d ever done for you.

With newfound confidence, you faced the seamstress. “Uh, maybe we could find something simple and casual? Maybe a little flowy?”

“Flowy? What, like a farmhand?” The tailor’s brow furrowed wildly as if you’d just offended her, clasping a palm to her chest. She sighed so loudly you almost felt like you had just shattered her entire lifelong dreams.

Ben snorted, and you couldn’t help but break into little giggles too, both your amusement flying right over the seamstress’ head.

“What about the cream one?” You pointed at a soft flowing dress on the rack, which looked perfectly fine to get around without suffocating.

“Oh, darling, no!” The tailor shook her head vigorously, but Ben sent her a stern look.

“Ms. Vivian…” His voice was calm but warning.

“Alright, fine.” She rolled her eyes exhaustively and put the dress aside before finding another one as well. She held it up to your face like it was a magic curtain. “What about this? Maybe a soft, ladylike lavender or perhaps a daring crimson to match the boldness I see in your eyes? That color would work wonders for your complexion, too!”

“Oh, uh, let’s steer clear of the crimson,” you told her, clearing your throat – not that Ben would actually catch why that made you uncomfortable.

“It seems like ‘no’ is your favorite word,” Ms. Vivian tutted in her frustration.

Ben laughed slightly at the comment. “Oh, she’s a hard one to win over,” he quipped, but his eyes never left you. There was a soft hint of a smile playing on his lips that you could almost confuse for affection.

Were you going fucking crazy?

The seamstress paused, considering the two of you, and then smiled in a way that felt a little too knowing. “Well, I suppose we could compromise. A sophisticated look, not too dramatic, but refined and elegant. The perfect balance. And just a hint of mystery, of course.”

God, she was good. You had to give her that. She really knew what she was doing, although you hated the fact she could read you so easily.

As Ms. Vivian eagerly rolled out fabrics and draped silks and velvets around your shoulders like sacred relics, Ben snuck closer to you. His fingertips lingered on your wrist, brushing but not touching as if to reassure you he hadn’t forgotten the rules.

But his breath fanned against the shell of your ear, the hair in the back of your neck saluting him when he checked on you in a whisper, “You still holding up here okay?”

“Uh, yeah, I’m fine.” You laughed softly, barely able to hold his gaze. This whole situation was nerve-racking. “Just not used to being the center of attention like this.”

“Hmm, that’s hard to believe.” Ben gave you a little grin. “You’ll be fine. Maybe you’ll even enjoy it.”

You cocked an eyebrow. “Enjoy being dressed up like a doll? You’re not helping, you know...”

Ben chuckled. “Maybe not. But I enjoy watching you try getting out of it. Besides, I think you’ll look stunning, no matter what you wear.”

Furiously burning heat crept to your cheeks at his flattery. Fuck, he was good when he wanted to be. You thought you could handle Soldier Boy like you’d done so many times before in the future without issue, but this was entirely different.

“Oh, we almost forgot the foundations!” The tailor’s voice luckily interrupted the moment and drew both your attention back to her.

Your brow quirked, accompanied by an anxious feeling in your gut. “Foundations?”

Her eyes twinkled with mischief. “Yes, darling. The proper undergarments,” she clarified and searched for the appropriate item in her large, wooden treasure chest. “What about a nice corset?”

“Oh, fuck no!” You looked at the thing in her hands with terror.

To your surprise, Ms. Vivian uttered a loud gasp of horror as well. Ben, on the other hand, snorted in amusement behind your shoulder, and you turned to him with a confused expression.

“What?”

Before Ben could answer you, Ms. Vivian spoke first: “Young lady, mind your language!”

“Oh.” Your brow raised in realization. “Shit. I’m sorry. I mean crap! No, dammit! Am I allowed to say ‘crap’?”

A louder, more forceful laugh escaped Ben then, and you could see the glassy veil of tears over his eyes. He bit his lips hard, trying to regain his composure when Ms. Vivian was scolding both of you with a stern look.

“Benjamin, you better get Mrs. Helen to work with her before you take her out,” the seamstress said, but it was more than a mere suggestion. Her eyes were practically pleading him.

“Who’s Mrs. Helen?” you asked your host in a whisper-tone.

“She’s an etiquette coach,” Ben informed you, his amused smile still unwavering.

Your brow furrowed. “What, so I know which fork to stabbeth myself with while some pompous dick is going on and on about his yacht and the stock market?”

Ben chuckled violently behind his palm, but Ms. Vivian was less than amused and quirked a high eyebrow.

“Young lady, you better mind your manners,” she chided. “You may not find a man this way. Men don’t appreciate sailor talk. You’re in company of a gentleman here.”

“Who? Him?!” With a severely wrinkled brow, you thumbed over your shoulder at your host.

Oh, that is hilarious…

“Alright, if a corset is out of question, then we at least need to get you a proper brassiere,” Ms. Vivian continued her quest to dress you appropriately.

“Oh, I don’t know. I think I’m good on that front,” you said.

The seamstress threw you a raised look, lowering her glasses on her nose for dramatic effect. “If you think I’ll let you walk out of here without the proper undergarments, you better think again,” she told you firmly.

“I wouldn’t mind,” Ben quipped, grinning cheekily.

“Merde…” You sighed and rolled your eyes. “Fine, gimme a bra.”

Ms. Vivian foraged through her magical treasure chest again, shaking her head. “You know, I understand French, too, young lady.”

Fuck me, you thought since you couldn’t say it out loud.

“You speak French?” Ben tossed you a curious glance.

“Uh, yeah, I’m fluent, actually,” you replied and watched his brow hike up in surprise.

“Well, I’m glad not all hope is lost,” Ms. Vivian chimed in. “French is very popular for girls your age.”

“You learned it in school?” Ben asked, and you could tell he was using this opportunity to pry more information out of you, but this time, you figured it couldn’t hurt.

“Uh, self-taught, actually,” you answered. Living in the French part of Canada for a couple of years, you’d certainly picked up a thing or two. “I’m also good with Latin and Greek. History, science, math…”

“Math?” Ben questioned, a trace of surprised intrigue flashing in his green eyes.

“Yeah, math,” you confirmed, smirking. “What subjects were you good at in school?”

Ms. Vivian snorted loudly at your question, Ben sending her a little glare at that. You knew why, remembering how he had flunked boarding school. And Soldier Boy would’ve probably pulverized the seamstress right this second for making fun of him, but Ben was a lot less hot-tempered.

“Uh, little bit of everything, I guess,” he replied vaguely at first, still trying to impress you. But then he wet his lips in thought. “To be honest, I wasn’t really paying a lot of attention to my classes.”

The sudden honesty surprised you, and you rewarded it with a kind smile. You gave a quick shrug of your shoulders. “School’s overrated, anyways. Most of the stuff you need for life, you learn on the go.”

Ben’s lips curved into a smile. “Like French?”

“Like French.” You nodded, grinning.

“You know, playing an instrument is very desirable as well for girls,” Ms. Vivian added. “It lets potential suitors know you’re refined and cultured.”

So, they know I can play their flute?

You bit back your comment, not knowing if Ms. Vivian wasn’t hiding a muzzle for you in her treasure chest as well.

“Well, I play the piano,” you offered instead. Truly, you didn’t try to impress Ben but the judgmental tailor. You hoped if she thought you had at least a little bit of a well-bred pedigree, she’d stay clear of the feathered hats you spied in the corner of your eye.

“Oh, that is wonderful!” Ms. Vivian clapped her hands in delight, making you quite proud of your achievement.

One point for the trailer park bitch!

“You know, we have a piano right there,” Ben said, gesturing to the corner where the beautiful grand piano stood that you’d admired earlier that day.

“Oh, I know. I wasn’t even sure I was allowed to touch it,” you said, giggling. “Seems a little too grand for my skills.”

“No, go ahead, sweetheart. It hasn’t been played in a while. I’m sure it’d appreciate the treatment,” Ben encouraged you with soft smile, the affectionate gleam reappearing in his eyes.

“Oh, it’s too bad your mother won’t be here to see this!” Ms. Vivian tragically sighed. “She would’ve loved it! She was a wonderful player herself, always entertaining the guests at parties.”

“Was?” You looked at Ben, but he averted his gaze to the floor, never quite meeting your eyes.

You couldn’t remember if Soldier Boy had ever mentioned his mother. You’d heard plenty about his father, but his mother seemed more like an elusive mirage, swallowed by the exorbitant daddy issues that haunted him.

“She-, uh, she hasn’t really played in recent years,” Ben gave as a polite explanation but didn’t offer anything more.

“Oh, too bad,” you replied and sent him a small smile. “I’m sure she was great.”

“Alright, Benjamin,” the tailor interrupted you two, “This next part of the process is not meant for your eyes, so you better leave.”

“What? Why?” You sure as hell didn’t want to be left alone with the eccentric seamstress. God knows what else she could force you into. You were sure there were a lot worse things than a corset in that trunk of horror.

“Because you have to undress, darling, so I can see what fits and make the appropriate adjustments,” Ms. Vivian told you.

“Oh, I don’t mind staying.” Ben smirked puckishly.

“Benjamin Percival Brooks! Where are your manners, young man?” The tailor flashed him a look full of authority, her voice firm and commanding.

“Percival?” you mouthed at Ben, slowly erupting into a laugh. His cheeks flushed so red you could’ve confused them for Mars.

“I know your mother raised you better than that,” she chastised. “Go on! Shoo!”

You chuckled a little at the face he drew upon her order. Man, you should remember that trick in the future. You were kind of jealous of Ms. Vivian’s skills.

“You’re gonna be alright on your own?” Ben still checked, even when the seamstress was impatiently tapping her heel, waiting for him to leave you to your transformation.

“I suppose,” you replied, amused when the tailor already eyed you with a measuring tape.

“I’ll be in the study if you need me,” Ben said and threw you a wink. “Try not to melt under all the glamour.”

As the evening arrived in the mansion, the grand windows that lined the tall walls dimmed with the fading sunlight. You had spent the last few hours adjusting to your new wardrobe before settling on a dress that made you the most amount of comfortable – which wasn’t a lot, to begin with.

Your choice had landed on a long-sleeved, navy blue dress with the hint of a v-neck that was tied with a pretty bow. Alright, you did like the bow. A lot. This was probably the girliest outfit you had ever worn. It for sure was a far cry from your Zeppelin t-shirt and ripped jeans, but at least you blended into your environment and didn’t stick out of the crowd like a sore thumb.

You also put on the vibrant red beret you had to fight Ms. Vivian for since it wasn’t “in fashion this season.” However, it made you feel very sophisticated and French, like you possessed a certain je ne sais quoi.

Alright, maybe you’d been daydreaming a little too much today. But one thing you’d learned during your epic adventures: Always commit to the bit.

Which meant fully diving into everything this period had to offer. You were stuck here, and you couldn’t get hunted down by an angry mob again, so you sucked it up like a big girl and channeled your inner Betty Draper.

Making your way downstairs, you passed Dottie, whose mouth dropped slightly when she saw you in your new outfit. If you thought Ben’s shirt made her hate you, that dress surely made her want to kill you now.

But Dottie, Grace, Betty, and Sheila all served as good reminders of why you had to heed caution with your charming host. You knew who he was in his essence. You couldn’t let yourself get blended by the pretty wrapping paper.

The door to his father’s study stood ajar, Ben sitting at the large oak desk as you carefully peeked your head inside and halted in the doorway. He was hunched over documents in concentration, scribbling something on paper with murmuring lips and a tensely knitted brow.

You took a deep breath and stepped inside, and the moment his eyes lifted and found you, he froze, the pen in his hand faltering midair. His gaze swept over you, not just disbelief but hunger creeping into the lush, green moss of his eyes.

Well, this was even worse than the Zeppelin shirt, the towel, or his clothes. You hadn’t expected the dress to be so noticeable. Maybe you should’ve gone with the pastel green one that made you look like a minted cupcake?

Ben’s mouth parted, but no words came out at first. He blinked, slowly, as if trying to make sense of what he was seeing. “You look, uhm…” he trailed off, unable to finish his sentence.

Uh-oh…

“Weird, right?” you offered in an attempt to deflect.

Ben snorted a chuckle then, breaking out a bit of his stupor. “Uh, that wouldn’t have been the exact adjective I would’ve used.” The laughing crinkles around his eyes then softened to something warmer, the heat of his lingering stare rushing straight into your veins. “You look… I guess ‘breathtaking’ is the right word for it.”

Yup, that melted your heart right down to your core.

You shifted awkwardly on your feet, unsure of how to respond. Then, you noticed a smile sneaking onto his lips when his gaze followed you down to your choice of footwear – you were wearing your same old pair of Chucks.

“Did Ms. Vivian forget the bottom layer?” he teased with an entertained smirk.

“Uh, no, she gave me plenty of choices. Not quite ready yet for that yet, I guess.” You blushed slightly. The truth was, your shoes still gave you a sense of familiarity and home that you wanted to hold onto. You could feel your own time beginning to slip your mind, little fragments starting to go missing from your memory. “She’d probably faint if she saw me like this.”

Ben grinned. “You’re tempting me to call her back just to see it.”

“Oh, too bad you haven’t seen her when I asked her if she had some pants for me, too. She almost collapsed like the London Bridge right then,” you quipped.

“Well, leave it to you to make me jealous I missed one of Ms. Vivian’s fashion shows,” replied Ben, giving you his signature smirk. “I was about to have dinner and was hoping you’d join me. I-, uh, I have a little surprise prepared for you.”

“Oh, uh, you know, that’s not really necessary. You don’t have to give me anything… or more, I guess,” you stammered, shaking your head, pupils flickering. “Letting me stay here, the clothes… It’s enough, okay? It’s more than I could’ve asked for, really. Thank you so much. You really don’t have to do any of that, you know?”

And you strangely meant every word. You were overwhelmingly thankful. Had that been his goal all along? Shit. Was it real it or was he playing you? The grin itching on his lips didn’t help you detangle the mêlée in your mind either.

“Is that a yes or no to dinner?” Ben formed a teasing smile.

“Uh… yes?” You were kind of hungry, not having eaten anything since Florence stuffed you full of crumpets during afternoon tea.

“Alright.” Ben nodded, clearly pleased. “Just, uh, give me a minute to finish this up.”

“Sure. Take your time,” you said and ambled through the study, your gaze drawing you to a row of framed photographs resting on the mantle.

One was a family portrait with Ben, no older than probably five, standing in the middle with two figures behind him – his parents. It was almost haunting seeing a childhood picture of that man, like seeing a teacher outside of school, buying groceries. It reminded you that underneath the emerald suit and the callousness was still a real, living and breathing person.

The contrast between his parents, however, was striking. His father stood tall and imposing, with sharp features and an air of authority that practically leapt off the picture. He didn’t share a lot of resemblance with his son, but weirdly, you could see some similarities between Ben’s father and his future offspring, making you wonder if Soldier Boy ever took note of those attributes as well.

Ben’s mother, on the other hand, was beautiful, her soft features highlighted by a gentle smile. Her eyes were kind, her posture relaxed, and she seemed almost ethereal compared to the rigid formality of her husband.

“Ah, my parents…” Ben’s deep voice ripped you from your thoughts. It was accompanied by a quiet chuckle, as though he didn’t particularly enjoy discussing that topic. He rose from the desk and sauntered closer to you, soon feeling his warmth radiating behind your back. “You see the resemblance?”

You glanced up at him, noting the subtle line of tension between his brows. There was something in his voice that betrayed the casual indifference he wanted to communicate.

“Yeah, you look a lot like your mom,” you remarked, studying the photograph a little closer. “You have her eyes and smile.”

Ben’s expression faltered for a split second with a flicker of something close to disappointment. His lips pressed together, averting his eyes down to the floor. “I suppose that’s true,” he replied with hesitancy. “Honestly, I’d rather prefer looking like my father. I’m not quite the man he is.”

You paused for a moment, your stupid hand itching to reach out to him in comfort. One thing was for sure, though: It was hard to see anything resembling Soldier Boy in the young man in front of you.

Yes, there was the occasional arrogance and bragging and even the insecurities. But you didn’t think this was an act or a game he was playing with you. Vulnerable honesty didn’t really fit his ammo when it came to wooing women. He was too proud in his virility for that.

So, you supposed you were just strange enough of a stranger to confide in. He couldn’t tell it to anyone else because – the girls he’d bedded, the staff in this house – they’d probably gossip, and he couldn’t risk that, could he? Not with a father like that. You, however, didn’t know a soul here. You were nobody. You were safe. You could keep his secrets.

“Oh, I don’t know. I think you got lucky,” you said, a teasing smile playing on your lips. You giggled when his brows shot up. “Your mom’s a lot prettier than your dad. I’d be grateful if I were you.”

Ben huffed a chuckle of disbelief, shaking his head. A grin formed and widened on his freckled, clean-shaven face. “You think I’m handsome?”

“I believe I said pretty,” you teased.

Ben clicked his tongue, lips curling to fight a smile.

Your face softened, deciding to probe further. “What’s she like? Your mother?”

He licked his lips for a moment, surely considering if he wanted to answer your question. “Well, uhm, when I was younger, she was warm. Sweet,” he said slowly, trying to retrieve the memory from someplace distant. “She was everything you could want in a mother, you know? I-, uh, I felt like I could tell her anything, and she-… she’d understand.”

“What happened?” you asked quietly, your hands itching again, only held back by a sliver of self-control.

“I guess my father did,” Ben said as if he’d only just realized that fact himself. “I don’t know exactly what happened. I first noticed it when I was teenager. She just stopped being the person I remembered. She became more distant. Cold. She’s mostly just a ghost here. I think she just gave up fighting him, so she played the role of his wife, but not the one of my mother anymore.”

You had no fucking clue what to say to that. The hurt in his voice was raw, and you knew you were intruding on something personal he wasn’t used to sharing. You’d just opened a big can of worms in Soldier Boy’s past, and you had not the faintest idea how to get those slimy, little strings back inside.

Your eyes drifted back to the photograph. She seemed like a good mother in that picture, how she protectively rested a palm on her son’s shoulder. But you also noticed the contrast between the warmth of his mother’s smile and the cold, steely expression of his father. It was as if Ben’s mother had faded into the background, a supporting character in a life that had never really been her own. A fate, you’re sure, that befell many women of this time.

“You think she’s still in there somewhere? The woman you knew?”

Ben was silent for a beat, his gaze fixed on the photograph as he thought about it. “I don’t know,” he said. “I used to think so. Now, I’m not so sure. The more time passed, the more she became… him.”

Well, you hoped Mr. Brooks Sr. would enjoy the bubonic plague as much as your parents did once you got your powers back. It was the least you could do. Maybe then, you and Ben could call it even in the future and go back to your normal routine of hating each other.

It surely sounded less frightening than whatever this weird, blooming thing between you was right now that spread like a nasty STD.

“I’m sorry,” you said, not knowing what else to offer. You still didn’t reach out to him. You were already playing with matches. You didn’t need to throw them into gasoline.

Ben gave a tight smile, trying to overplay his vulnerability. But you could see beneath all the bravado and arrogance. He was just a son who’d never felt like he was enough. Not to his father. Not to his mother.

Worst of all, you could relate.

He chuckled bitterly. “It’s alright. I’ve learned to live with it. You can’t choose your parents.”

“That’s true.” You gave a slight nod of agreement. “Mine were fucking assholes from the start.”

You hadn’t planned on sharing something personal with him, but it felt like the least amount of comfort and understanding you could offer him.

Ben’s brow twitched with surprise, a smile of amusement flashing across his lips, probably because of your use of sailor talk again. Honestly, though, how fucking ironic was that? You hadn’t even sworn a lot your whole life, but spending a year with Butcher and Soldier Boy in particular did a number on you.

“What-, uhm, what were they like… or are? Are they still alive?”

“No, dead. Probably,” you replied flatly. “And they were, uhm… selfish, unkind, elusive. Dumb like a bag of bricks, too.” Upon Ben’s blinking eyes, you uttered a half-hearted “sorry.”

“No, uh–“ Ben shook his head a little, as if to organize his thoughts. “So, that story about your father teaching you–“

“Bullshit, I guess,” you admitted, smirking a little.

“So, all that stuff you know–“

“I taught myself,” you confirmed with a proud smile, standing a little straighter. “I didn’t tell you because I thought you couldn’t deal with a woman being smarter than you.”

Ben’s lips hitched a smile that he tried to bite back. “I guess we’ll see,” he said, his eyes searching yours. “I’m glad you asked about her,” he added quietly, his look touching something within your soul. “Not many people do.”

You nodded, offering him a small smile. “I’m sure your mom’s proud of you. Even if she doesn’t show it.”

And then, the air shifted. You could feel it all around you, settling on your skin in a veil of delicate blossoms, rising in response to whispers of electricity. They danced across the surface, each little peak a shiver of anticipation. Your heart drummed louder, faster, till it drowned out all the other noise. There was just you and him at that moment in time.

You’d held eye contact for too long, the silence stretched on, but it wasn’t uncomfortable in the slightest. It was addicting.

Your gaze briefly fell to his plush, pink lips, immediately cursing yourself for the action. He took note of it, his own eyes landing on your unoccupied, open palm by your side. And in the short second he paused and gathered courage to move forward with his intentions, you retreated half a step and exhaled a sharp breath.

“Uh, food?” Your voice broke the spell on both of you, Ben blinking out of his momentary daze. “I’m kinda hungry.”

“Oh, uhm, yeah.” He cleared his throat. “Sounds good. Shall we?”

Ben offered you his arm, and for a fleeting second, you considered declining. But there was something in the way he looked at you, faint crinkles around his crispy apple green eyes from a kind smile that pressured you to cave. So, you placed your hand lightly on his arm, and together you strolled down the hall toward the dining room.

“Is it just the two of us in the dining room?” you asked with a lump lodged in the back of your throat. Your heart was pounding while you held onto him. The soft scent of his cologne reached your nose, notes of citrus, mint, and wood making your head spin.

Ben chuckled a little. “Yeah, it’s just the two of us. Unless you want to invite Florence again.”

“Oh, can we?” As you glanced up at him, you saw the subtle smirk on his lips. “Oh, you were joking…”

Ben laughed deeply. “I was, but hey, if you want to–“

“No, no, it’s fine.” You shook your head, trying to calm your jittering nerves.

As you entered the dining room, you were immediately struck by how large it was, the long table that easily fit a group of thirty stretching in front of you, lit by flickering candles. It was as grand as the rest of the house, but tonight it felt oddly intimate – just the two of you, and no one else.

Ben pulled out a chair for you, his movements graceful and old-fashioned. When you sat, he took the seat opposite you, and Florence hurried to set two plates of deliciously smelling meatloaf in front of you. Luckily, there was only one fork.

“So, what adventures were you up to today, sweetheart?” Ben asked, falling into the polite dinner conversation small talk. You were sure it was trained into him.

“Oh, uh, well, after breakfast, I spent some time with George in his shed. He’s got some cool stuff out there,” you said nonchalantly, only then noticing Ben’s look of amusement again.

“You spent time with George in his shed?”

“Is that not allowed?”

Ben tilted his head at you. “Why do you keep asking me that? I told you to make yourself at home. You can do what you want here.”

“No, I know,” you said, licking your lips as your chat with Florence crept along the edges of your mind. “I guess I just wanna make sure I’m not overstepping any lines here. Kinda like when you’re in a museum, and you’re not allowed to touch anything.”

Ben’s lips grew a smirk as he met your eyes. “Well, you’re allowed to touch anything you want in here, sweetheart.”

Oh no… You’d set yourself right up for that one, hadn’t you?

“So, out of curiosity, did you sleep with Dottie?”

Ben choked on the sip of red wine in his mouth, a few tiny drops staining his pristine white dress shirt. You’re sure neither Florence nor Ms. Vivian would be pleased with that – but you were.

“Hm? What?” He blinked at you like a deer in headlights, clearing the rest of the wine from his throat. “Why? Did she say something to you?”

“Might as well have answered that one with a resounding yes,” you teased and snickered into your glass of wine.

Ben frowned slightly. “You know, if she’s making you uncomfortable, I can fire her.”

Now, you frowned, eyes wide. “What?! No! Don’t do that. That’s such a dick move.”

“A dick move?” Both amusement and confusion flashed on Ben’s face.

Right… People probably didn’t say that yet. You also remembered the concepts of sexual harassment at the workplace and retaliatory discharge were still futuristic dreams, too.

“Well, you know, it’s kinda your fault. Suck it up,” you told him. “You’re her employer. You can’t just discard her because she makes you uncomfortable after you did… whatever you did to her.”

Ben was a little stunned by your bluntness. “Technically, my father is her employer,” he argued and then smugly added, “And I can guarantee you she also very much enjoyed whatever I did to her, by the way.”

Ew, gross!

“You just offered to fire her. I’m pretty sure you qualify,” you countered, not even touching the other comment with a ten-foot pole.

Ben pursed his lips for a moment, then gave a nod. “Guess I’ll suck it up then.”

You rewarded him with a wry smile. “There you go.”

“You know, that was just a one-time thing at some party my father threw. Months ago… Didn’t mean anything,” Ben added, shoving food around on his plate with his fork.

“To you, maybe,” you said and looked at him, waiting for another excuse.

But there came none. He just sipped his wine and dove back into his food.

Good. That would at least keep him from hitting on you for the next hour.

And it did – Ben and you had a pleasant dinner and stuck to small talk. You slowly began to relax, even though the tension between you two was still simmering underneath.

“You always eat dinner here alone?” you asked when Florence cleared the empty plate in front of you. You couldn’t remember the last time you had a home-cooked meal that didn’t come out of a box or a can.

One point for 1942.

“Usually, yes.” Ben shrugged. “Sometimes I go out with friends, have dinner in town.”

“Seems kind of lonely,” you noted.

“Can be. Seems a little less lonely tonight,” Ben replied, sending you a soft smile. “So, what was the house like that you grew up in?”

“Oh, uhm…” You weren’t sure if you should answer that one honestly but couldn’t find a good enough reason not to. “Well, it was a lot smaller.”

“How small?”

“About a quarter of this dining room,” you replied, slightly amused, and watched his brow crease in several directions as he tried to make sense of something like that.

“Huh.”

“We did have a sunroom, though,” you deadpanned with a sip of wine. “I mean, we just called it a window, but the thought was there.”

Ben snorted, soon fully laughing. He rubbed his lips with his fingers. “You ready for your surprise?”

“I told you. It’s not necessa–“

Before you could finish, your eyes flicked to Dottie in the doorway, holding a plate with a piece of cake and a burning candle stuck in it in her hands. The look on her face was devastating. Honestly, did this man possess no awareness at all?

It seemed like a cruel form of punishment for the girl. Fortunately, her grievances and anger weren’t geared toward you this time. The death stare fully landed on your oblivious host.

Dottie placed the plate in front you with a glare at Ben so biting you were surprised you couldn’t see teeth marks on his head yet. Both of you waited till Dottie had left the room again before you looked at him with a complacent smirk.

With a sigh, he rolled his eyes back. “Alright, I see it. Happy now?”

“As long as you’re aware,” you sang smugly.

“Stop gloating and blow out your candle,” he huffed, but a hint of playfulness swung in his voice. “I know I’m technically a day late for this, but I didn’t want you to miss out on cake. It’s the best part about birthdays.”

“Thank you.” You smiled and meant it. It was hard to deny that this was probably the sweetest thing he’d ever done for you. Uncharacteristically sweet and surely motivated by other nefarious reasons, but thoughtful nonetheless.

“You’re welcome.” He smiled warmly. “Which one is it, anyway?”

“Oh, uh… Twenty-… fourth,” you lied with some thoughtful reluctance. You knew if you’d told him your real age, there would’ve only been more questions about why you weren’t married and tamed yet.

“Older than me, huh?” Ben gave you a satisfied smile.

You bit your tongue hard at the irony and nodded, forcing a smile. Granny fucker.

“Well, happy birthday, sweetheart. Make a wish.”

And God, when that candle went out, you wished you’d be home soon.

▶️ Chapter 5: We'll Always Have Paris

Lots to unpack in this one! Some major insights into Ben's childhood and a glimpse at his mother. What did you think about Ms. Vivian? Should we get Mrs. Helen involved to fix reader's sailor talk? How much will Ben pay her not to reveal his middle name to Hughie in the future? 😂

And I'm not warning for age gaps in this fic because with Soldier Boy, it's kind of ridiculous anyway, but yes, reader is seven years older than him in 1942, but 74 years younger in the future, so they're even? 🤷‍♀️🤣

Coming Up:

So, yes, maybe you liked him. Liked him more than you’d be ever willing to admit. But were you just supposed to ignore everything else? Everything you knew and everything that might come?

Were you a fool for thinking you could change destiny?

“Tell me one thing,” you said, interrupting the comfortable silence between you two. “What would make you happy? I mean really happy. Forget about all the money and your father and everything else. What’s your happy place?”

“Hmm,” Ben hummed, teeth chewing on the plush flesh of his lower lip. He found your eyes. “Tell me yours first.”

“Alright,” you accepted, knowing you’d pushed him enough for today, knowing you had to give, too. Knowing his vulnerability didn’t come without a price. You contemplated for a moment, exhaling a sigh. “I guess… Paris. I’d wanna live in Paris. Go roller skating in the Louvre at night. Boop Mona Lisa’s nose.”

Ben snorted a laugh, shaking his head. “Sounds a bit cockamamie.”

“Hey, you have your dreams, I have mine. And you’ll see. I’m gonna do it. I have more tricks up my sleeve than just math,” you retorted playfully, causing his smirk to deepen, but there was affection in every crease and crinkle on his face. “Before you mock, why don’t you just tell me yours, huh?”

🚀 Read up to 4 chapters ahead on Patreon now

Tag List Pt 1.:

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deangirlsstuff67 · 2 months ago

Text

Soldier Boy’s Girl

Soldier Boy x Reader

Summary: You get the version no one else gets the pleasure of knowing.

Warnings: None

Authors Note: I love Jensen and his family. This is purely fiction and for entertainment purposes only.

—————————————————————————

Six months ago your Uncle Billy recruited you to be on his team for the fight against superhero’s. Considering your past involving any of them, it made sense.

They had found the weapon that was going to take down Homelander once and for all. Your job? It was simple, babysit the volatile ticking time bomb of a supe.

Seems easy right?

Uncle Billy knew you could handle yourself easily. You weren’t actually what he would call fragile or gentle by any means. What none of them were expecting was for you to grow attached to Soldier Boy.

For you it was different, while they were the same person, you fell hard for Ben, you’re learning to love Soldier Boy. Learning to separate his two personalities made living with the man so much easier.

Yes there was some Ben in Soldier Boy.

There was definitely Soldier Boy in Ben, he usually came out when you were withering underneath your boyfriend, begging him for more. That cocky grin, the I’m the man energy, all of it comes to light in the depths of your bedroom.

—————————————————————————

Today was a rough one for Ben. They went to herogasm and let’s just say it didn’t go as planned. Homelander showed up and a fight broke out between the two supes, innocent people got hurt in the process.

Soldier Boy comes off as a cocky, give zero fucks, rough, rude killing machine to many people. They all thought he was cold hearted and never cared when others got hurt by his hand.

To be fair he played that role well.

When the front door opened that night you instantly felt the sadness and regret rolling off your boyfriend in waves. Uncle Billy had called and told you what had happened. Preparing you for what mood Ben may come home in.

You had a glass tumbler full of his favorite whiskey locked and loaded. Ben came into view seconds later, no words were exchanged between you. You knew better than to pry, he’d come to you when he was ready.

Handing him his whiskey and kissing his cheek you simple walk to the bedroom to finish folding laundry.

Half hour later you hear the bedroom door close behind you as you continue putting clothes into the right drawers. Spinning on your heels you see Ben sitting on the edge of the bed staring at a spot on the floor.

Making room you crawl up beside him leaning against the headboard in silence. He wants to talk and you know that. Talking doesn’t come easy for Ben, growing up in a world much different than today’s day and age.

Softly he spoke, “I didn’t mean to hurt those people. I’m not a bad guy y/n.”

You make your way over to him, simply crawl into his lap, using your fingers to force him to look at you.

“I know you aren’t Ben. That was an accident.” Leaning in you capture his lips for a loving kiss. Holding him close as you rake your fingers through his hair.

You feel the stray tears falling from his eyes hit your shirt. To the world he’s a big, tough soldier, but in the comfort of your house Ben is so much more.

No one would have ever guessed he would have such a gentle side to him. You make him feel safe. You never judge him. You’re patient and loving.

Looking into your y/e/c eyes he asks you, “why do you love me doll?”

You kiss his tears away smiling at him, “because I’ve never met a man like you. You’re special Ben. The moment we met I knew I was done for. You’re filthy, moody, strong, caring, protective, and loving. You have a way of making me feel alive no matter what we are doing.” One more kiss to his sweet lips before adding, “plus you are amazing in bed.”

Winking at him as you start getting off his lap. Ben lets out a growl as he grabs you again and throws you into the pillows.

“Let’s see just how amazing I am shall we doll?”

This is why he loves you. You’re patient and kind to the man everyone deems a killer. You listen when others judge. Not to mention you can handle both the gentle and rough side of his personality.

“Come on Soldier Boy, let’s see what America’s hero can do.”

—————————————————————————

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gamesetattach · 3 months ago

Text

On the Record

Jannik Sinner x Reader A well liked personality in the tennis world, reader is one the favored sports commentators. Her interviews always make headlines for all the right reasons—the people love to watch her crack all their favorite players... especially Jannik Sinner because, I mean, the poor boy seems to just shatter. Honestly. Somewhere in time, this was an 800 word blurb... And now it's nearly 8,000. Not sure when that happened. This just became a tennis player personality study at some point, tbh

---

You weren’t just another sports commentator—you’d quickly made a name for yourself in your short career in the tennis world. The networks and the fans loved you, and so did the players. Your approach was the kind where players actually liked talking, one that made post-match interviews feel less like an obligation and more like an easy conversation. You had built a reputation for striking the perfect balance—professional and sharp, but always with just the right amount of humor to put players at ease.

It wasn’t uncommon for your analyses and your interviews to be clipped and spread, tennis fans enjoyed your commentary and admired how effortlessly you got athletes to open up. You asked questions that felt fresh, steering clear of the usual clichés that players had answered a hundred times before. You could tease them just enough to get a smile, knew when to pull back, when to lean in. And many of the players responded more than favorably to that.

---

Ben Shelton was a natural entertainer—electric on the court, brimming with confidence, always ready with a quip. But post-match interviews? Reporters could easily get him ticked off—understandably so. Questions were too often repetitive, formulaic, and sometimes interviews could be straight up disrespectful.

But with you holding the mic, it was never that.

"Ben! Congratulations on the win—another five-setter. You really like giving the crowd a show, huh?" you teased once, microphone in hand as he wiped sweat from his forehead.

Shelton grinned, shaking his head. "Look, I’m just trying to keep ticket sales up. If I finish in straights, what’s the fun in that?"

You raised an eyebrow. "Tell us, do you hold back on that power serve of yours sometimes—just to keep the game going?"

"I don’t know about all that," he replied smoothly, "But I will say, the longer I’m out here, the more entertainment value there is. I’m doing everyone else a favor."

"Selfless. A true man of the people." The crowd laughed, and so did you. “I can see why they like you.”

Ben nodded at you, moving to dap you up as the cameraman dipped the lens for the interview to wrap up. "See, you get it."

The moment was well loved, fans loving the ease of your exchanges. And that was nothing unusual—your interviews often made waves.

---

Your position often called for a sensitive touch, and your intuition meant you navigated that aspect better than most. You were always sure to respect the players’ boundaries.

When Jack Draper won his first top-ten match of the season, it hadn’t been pretty. He had barely scraped through in three sets, visibly struggling throughout, even throwing up courtside between games. It was impressive tennis, but it had been the kind of match that took everything out of both players, winner or not.

Networks had a certain, set agenda, and the players all knew of that obligation. And so some commentators might’ve been waiting, mic in hand—ready to pounce with questions about endurance, fitness, and whether he should’ve retired—without being mindful of the condition he was in. You’d offered Draper’s circumstance more tact and understanding than others would have.

You caught sight of him near the bench, after barely celebrating and stumbling his way to the net to shake hands with his opponent. He was still catching his breath as he toweled off and gathered his things, the sideline cameras were on him as your own crew quickly assembled in the middle of the court. You’d gently approached, mic cast behind your back to prevent any sound from being picked up, crouching slightly so he wouldn’t have to stop his movements to answer you.

The exhaustion was evident in his features to all who watched, his skin pale beneath the sweat, and you kept your voice soft, careful. "Jack, hey—no pressure. Are you feeling up for the interview? All good if not, I can cover for you."

Jack blinked up at you, sluggish, like it took effort to focus. For a split second, you’d even wondered if you should’ve asked at all—maybe it was better to deflect the crowd and let him slip away. But then recognition clicked in his eyes, and for a moment you thought he might wave you off, but he moved his head just a fraction down in a nod.

With a small, grateful smile at his lips, he said. "Nah, I’m good. Just… maybe we keep it short?"

You nodded immediately. "Of course. I got you."

So you’d kept the interview brief and simple, unprobing. Your voice stayed even, the questions light and general.

"Jack, congratulations. That was an impressive win against an impressive opponent. What are your thoughts coming out of it?" You asked, keeping the question away from his state.

"Yeah, tough one today, but looking forward to tomorrow." Jack exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “Apologizes for the throw up, everyone.”

A soft chuckle rippled through the crowd.

You’d smiled, keeping it easy. "I won’t keep you long, but one thing’s for sure—you showed a lot of fight out there and we’re sure you will tomorrow as well. Anything more you’d like to say to the crowd, along with that?"

Jack turned toward the stands, where the crowd erupted into cheers just at the acknowledgment. "Yeah, just… thanks for sticking it out with me. You all carried me through."

You gave him a nod, and he backed out of the frame with a grateful look as he took your okay to head out. "Alright. Go get some rest, Jack. You’ve earned it."

---

Sometimes, you’d poke fun with the players—though you never crossed the line. And those interviews always showed the strength of your rapport with those on tour.

Carlos Alcaraz was truly sunshine personified. Always wearing that wide smile, he was friendly with everyone. And, with you, he was always outright charmed, knowing the interview would be memorable and fun.

After yet another dramatic comeback win, you stood across from him, shaking your head. "Carlos, you make my job so hard. I try to plan questions, but every time you pack the game with so many good shots I have a hard time choosing which one to talk about."

“Sorry.” He said, grinning and laughing up at the crowd. "You know, maybe I'll make it easy for you next time."

"Now, don’t do that. We love watching you fall into the splits and run all over the place." You both chuckled, and you continued with your questions. “Tell me, today was a spectacular match—now you're moving on to the finals—will you get a tattoo of the match date?”

“We’ll see,” Carlos’s smile had widened at that, if even possible. "If I win, maybe. Let’s see."

“What makes a day great enough to qualify for a tattoo of the date?”

“I always just try and play well, but if there’s something really special—then I like to remember that.” He shifted his weight back and forth between his feet, nodding up at the crowd as they cheered. “Especially with the great fan atmosphere, like here in the tournament.”

"Well Carlos, if you continue playing as well as you did today, I think you may run out of space pretty soon."

He’d grinned, pointing to the tiny text of his newest addition. "I get them small, still have lots of room. On the legs and all—"

You shook your head. "I say, skip the legs—go straight for the forehead."

He threw his head back at that, leaning up and away from the mic for a full-bellied laugh, and the crowd erupted with him. "We’ll see, we’ll see."

"Alright, Carlos! Thank you for your time. Great tennis tonight, we’ll see you again in two nights against Rune!" You easily finished, wrapping up the interview as he waved once more to the crowd.

---

The same often went with Andrey Rublev, a character loved by all. An intense firestorm on the court, but forever soft-spoken off it. He was one that could be reserved and bashful in interviews, even though he often couldn’t help his witty remarks—a large part of why he was so well liked.

“Andrey, congratulations! You’re having a great year so far—making it to the finals again after just winning a title,” He nodded, taking off his headband as you began the interview. “I was wondering, do you have any new superstitions this season? Or any old ones that have evolved over time?"

“Superstitions… I don’t know...” Rublev exhaled, brushing a hand through his damp hair. His eyes landed on the headband he was spinning on a finger. "Maybe this one—the headband. When I was younger, in juniors or something, I didn't have this long hair, but now before the match I’m tying like this every time."

“Ah yes, I’ve had the privilege of seeing you primp and preen before a match.” You’d teased, laughing lightly. “It’s quite the routine.”

“Yes…” He smiled, looking down a little. “It’s not so easy.”

“I mean, yeah, with that head of hair—I believe it.” You grinned at him. “I know you always looked up to Rafa Nadal growing up, do you feel like it’s kind of an ode to him?”

“Yes, of course. He was always my favorite—I was… when I was little, I was always wearing the same kit as him. Same shorts and shirt, and headband—everything. But, yes, it takes some time in front of the mirror.”

“That it does—you diva.” You laughed, and those in the stands followed suit.

“No… Diva? What is this?” Rublev glanced off camera before looking back at you, perplexed but smiling still.

“Don’t worry about it… They know.” The crowd cheered again.

He shook his head at you, chuckling a little before he gestured to you in confusion at the crowd.

You continued on, still laughing to yourself. “Everyone, Andrey Rublev! Our finalist—thank you Andrey!”

With that, the sound of your mics cut out and the other commentators came back into the audio, but the camera stayed on you and Rublev—panning out a bit. The remainder of your teasing conversation could be seen, with you presumably explaining what you had meant by diva between laughs and him playfully swatting you away immediately after.

It was a fan favorite moment, one that Rublev couldn’t seem to escape for the rest of the season. He was always sure to give you shit for it whenever he saw you around, but no one—including him—could deny that you always carried out the most entertaining interviews.

Though no interview was watched quite as closely as your ones with Jannik Sinner, however…

---

When it came to Jannik, the lens people would watch your interviews with became something else entirely.

The same reason people loved your interviews still held true—the way you got players to open up, the way you made even the most media-wary athletes feel at ease.

And Jannik wasn’t cold by any means, but he was careful. Composed. Someone who, in most press conferences and interviews, gave measured almost scripted answers, efficient and to the point. He was never rude—just reserved. He’d smile, be polite, but rarely let people in further than he had to.

And yet, every time it was you standing across from him, microphone in hand, his expression changed—softer, just barely perceptible. But people started to catch on… And when they did, they started to look for it as well.

A flicker of something lighter in his eyes, the way his usual, fidgety stance seemed to relax. If fans didn’t know him well, they might’ve missed it. But those who did could always tell that, even if he would never express it outright, he genuinely enjoyed talking to you.

---

One of the first times people noticed it was soon after your promotion, when you conducted one of your earlier on-court interviews.

It was after an iconic, comeback three-set win of Jannik’s. And something about the way he answered your questions—the way he looked at you—set the viewers abuzz. It was like the crowd had faded away for him. He still inserted his usual expressions of gratitude, but it seemed you and your questions were the center of his focus.

"Jannik, long night for you. With quite an abrupt turnaround," you had started, a smile in your voice as he nodded at your words. "Was there ever a moment where you doubted that you could take back the match? You were down for the first half there."

“No—,” He blinked, a smile slowly growing on his face. "What do you think of me? I try not to doubt… Of course, it’s not so easy but…"

He grinned at you as he trailed off, and you jumped right back in. "Oh, so you always knew you could take the game back is what you’re saying?"

His eyes stayed on you, corners of his lips twitching up again. "No, but—it’s important to stay positive. You know… I just try and play well."

“You just try…” You scoffed and looked at the camera. “You know, I think on most people’s best and most positive days, they probably can't serve so many aces in a row…”

Jannik shrugged, smiling up at the crowd as the crowd laughed at his nonchalant reaction.

It wasn’t necessarily a funny answer, or even a funny question, but Jannik’s cheeky smile and your quiet laughs in response added another layer to the tone of the interview. The audience cheered at his demeanor, a rare display of tasteful gloating from one of the world's best players.

That interview reemerged pretty consistently, you just brought out a different side of him. Not too many saw it then, but those who did were hooked.

---

The moment people most loved to replay went down after a late-afternoon match, the sun casting long shadows over the court as Jannik walked back on court for the interview, exhausted but victorious against his self-proclaimed rival. When he saw you waiting for him on the service, he didn’t just nod in acknowledgement and snap into his professional, media mode—his face visibly brightened, a slow smile tugging at his lips before he even reached you.

The smile stayed on his face, eyes fixed on you as you gave the cursory congratulations and eased the viewers into the interview while welcoming Jannik to the frame. "—and you had quite a few dives today, are you still in one piece?" You transitioned the introduction into the first question, microphone poised at his mouth after asking.

He nodded, eyes having never left you, but stayed quiet. His mouth opened as if starting to answer, but then he stopped and shook his head, hands on his hips. "... Sorry, can you repeat the question."

He pushed down protruding hairs under the brim of his cap with a sheepish smile as the audience laughed.

“Wow, zoning out already—that was only the first question Jannik.” You shook your head in teasing disapproval at the camera, and the corner of his mouth lifted to widen his smile at your reaction. “That might have been an answer to the question in and of itself—maybe you’re not in one piece… I asked about the dives you took during the match—any scrapes or scratches?”

“Ah, okay,” He nodded in understanding, catching up and smiling when people laughed once more. “No I—I’m okay. It is hard court, yes, but no scrapes so far.”

“Seems like Carlos has that effect on you, doesn’t he? You’re always diving after his balls—” You cut yourself off immediately, hand slapping to cover your mouth when you realized how that last sentence could have been interpreted.

You doubled over in laughter, unable to help yourself, and Jannik joined in when he pieced it together. It took you too long to recover, more time than was professional for sure, but the stadium was laughing along with you. Jannik watched as you tried again and again to compose yourself before you broke back into laughter each time, he chuckled at you while wagging a finger at the camera.

Then he set his palm on top of yours, taking your hand holding the mic to lift it to his mouth. “What kind of interview is this?”

The crowd went wild, pleased to see Jannik play into the humor of the situation. You wiped tears from your eyes and covered your face in embarrassment, his hand still over yours for longer than it needed to be.

When he returned the mic, and your hand, you gave an exaggerated look of regret towards the camera, breaking the fourth wall in more ways than one. “So sorry if I violated any network guidelines with that one… Did not mean for the interview to take this turn…”

And then the production assistant behind the camera, also in tears from laughter, signaled that time was almost up. Jannik teasingly threw his hands in the air when he saw the count down, poking fun at the fact that you’d derailed the interview and eaten up the screen time.

You lifted the mic and continued, shaking your head at yourself once more while smiling. “Looks like we need to wrap this up… Jannik any final words?”

“Well this is also some of my first words…” He laughed as you mouthed something in response. Don’t remind me, you’d mimed. “But I want to thank everyone here for the good energy and Carlos for another great game… And, of course, thank you for finishing off this day with such a… interesting interview.”

He said the last bit towards you, not missing the opportunity to tease you further—and nobody missed that.

The interview had understandably blown up. It had all the makings of a viral moment. An accidental, suggestive line implicating both Carlos and Jannik was bound to spread like a wildfire. Adding Jannik’s funny reaction on top of that only fueled the fire. People enjoyed seeing the facade of his usual composure break, fans were quick to interact with those rare moments where he revealed more of his charm and humor.

Though somehow, with all the traction the clip received, the discourse always seemed to land on you. Or rather, how he was with you. After getting past the comedic banter in the video, people started commenting on his behavior. On how he looked at you, how he seemed to miss the first question because he was admiring you. How he took your hand with no hesitation, and how you seemed unfazed by the touch. He was clearly comfortable with you—and you with him, judging by how naturally you took his teasing.

And so, anyone who wasn't already watching the two of you closely certainly started to after that.

---

It wasn’t just post-match interviews people watched. It was media days, press conferences, those brief moments of footage where your paths crossed in hallways.

Fans really started to notice the way his eyes would stay on you, taking just a second longer than necessary before answering the question. The way he always seemed to open up when it was you on the other side of the mic.

Jannik wasn’t the type to talk much during an interview, he kept his answers concise, but with you, there was always something—an easy joke, a quick remark, sometimes he’d even ramble on in an answer.

"Try to behave this one," he had joked when you were up to interview him after another game against Carlos, referencing that one, fateful slipup of yours a few months after its debut. You gave him a look, that line was sure to spread everywhere whether or not the rest of the interview was entertaining, and you both knew it. The people present in the stands were already whooping.

"I’ll try my best,” You smirked anyways. “I’ll try my best not to mention how Carlos gets you to fall for him.”

The crowd roared, and he shifted his jaw as he laughed with you. “That’s not how you said this the last time.”

“Well, I made many promises to many important people that I wouldn’t say anything like last time. Ever again.” You winked at the camera. “—Not on TV, at least.”

He inhaled a laugh, “Good. It’s for the best.”

"Okay… Let’s leave that behind us." You raised your brows at him as you offered a hand to shake in truce.

“Okay. Promise.” He took your hand, trying to look serious while fighting back a smile.

“Okay.” You nodded up at him, matching his expression even though your lips pursed with an incoming laugh, hands intertwined.

You both just stood like that for a beat, looking at each other with your hands clasped in a stilled handshake, laughter clearly threatening to take over. He was the first to break the silence.

“Are you going to ask a question, or what?” A smile ripped onto his face, and then your laugh just had to come out. Everyone in the stands had been in pieces since the interview’s start, but the laughter doubled at that.

“Yeah, yeah,” You shook your head. “What am I going to do with you—I’m going to be out of a job.”

“Ah, no. You’re too good for that.” His own laugh had faded into an amused smile. An affectionate one, even.

“Hear that?” You address the camera, deadpanning. “Glad we got that on tape.”

That interview continued on without any inappropriate hitches, though it stayed just as entertaining throughout.

And it wasn’t just a one-off thing. The more you interviewed him, the more obvious it became—it was a pattern. And the common denominator was you.

Fans were relentless. They clipped every smirk, every subtle glance. Every moment where Jannik let himself react.

He’s always laughing when its her She’s the only one who gets him to act like this. i love how he forgets all his media training when he’s with her Jannik, blink twice if you’re in love There’s no way they’re not a thing. If theyre not, they should be. Like now.

---

The best part? The most implicating part? You never even tried to make those moments with him. It just… happened. It always happened.

Like the time you’d been interviewing another player on court—someone else entirely, an opponent he’d lost to. Jannik could be seen in the back of the frame, still packing up at his bench. You hadn’t given any sign of noticing him, there was no moment of acknowledgement, you were faced away from Jannik as you interviewed the winning player with your usual, unique questions and comfortable professionalism—but the viewers’ eyes were on Jannik in the distance more than the interview itself, because the camera had caught everything.

It seemed the moment Jannik realized it was you speaking, that it was you on court, his head snapped to your direction. He was slower in gathering his things, looking back at you often. Even when signing things for fans on the sidelines, he’d turn his face to you every time you laughed. When he did finally walk out, his eyes stayed trained on you, turning his neck towards you until you simply had to leave line of sight.

And, even after the loss, it seemed he had a slight smile playing on his lips when he left. The soft kind, the same one he always seemed to wear when you were around.

Fans had slowed it down frame by frame, zooming in—and they saw it all.

---

The phenomenon quickly took on a life of its own. People had moved past just noticing, fan just straight up speculated after a while. Even other players and commentators were aware of the trope—it was everywhere online and it was hard to ignore the dynamic between you and him even in person.

It started small. A few viral clips, some curious tweets, the occasional comment under a post-match interview: He never laughs like that with anyone else. But that phase passed quickly. Then the compilation videos came in swarms soon after. The frame-by-frame breakdowns of every interview, every shared glance, every moment where Jannik seemed just a little too engaged, a little too interested.

"It’s the way he looks at her," Coco Guaff even said in a WTA YouTube video, the content being a montage of players’ talking about associations and relationships with umpires and broadcasters. You and Coco had an easy friendship, despite your role usually landing on the ATP side, so it only made sense that she dropped your name…

But it just so happened that her mention of you very quickly devolved into propaganda supporting those fan speculations of Jannik’s relationship to you.

"I mean, that’s not normal." She continued, shrugging at the camera as she giggled to herself. “The proof is in the footage, I don’t know what to tell you.”

And that wasn’t the only instance—Coco herself being notorious for backing the allegations.

Once, a post on a tennis podcast’s Instagram had gone doubly viral after she liked it. It was a screenshot of Jannik in mid-interview with you, visibly engaged, stars in his eyes. The text above the image read: Mans has never been happier in his life.

And the comments were rampant.

Need someone to look at me like that Guys, Coco liked?? You’d never know he just won a title, looks like the highlight of his day is just her Si vede che è cotto! Uh, heyy Coco

Another, a comparison of images—A photo of Jannik immediately after a match, visibly drained, side-by-side with another of him only minutes after, beaming down at you. Find someone who looks at you the way Jannik Sinner looks at his favorite commentator.

Forget clostebol, bros drug is just love Si vede che è cotto a puntino if they have no fans, im dead

Even official tennis accounts and sports networks got in on it, subtly referencing it in posts and during match breakdowns and things of that sort.

The ATP social team once posted a story of you two laughing behind the scenes on media day. And people immediately jumped on it, the screenshot spreading all over twitter.

Tennis Channel’s table of commentators once referenced you after discussing the tennis rankings and Jannik’s consistent performance.

“How does he do it?” One asked, after running through Jannik’s match statistics and win streak.

“I’m not sure, but I doubt he’d say.”

“We gotta get [Your Name] to ask, then I’m sure he’ll tell all.” Another chimed in.

Everyone at the table laughed, very obviously understanding the context. “It’s true, it’s true.”

And, of course, that clip was everywhere within minutes of it airing, as well.

...But the kick of it all was that neither of you ever seemed to deny the rumors—no matter how many times they were thrown at your face…

It wasn’t like anyone was subtle about it.

---

Once, Frances Tiafoe, never one to pass up the chance for a joke, had been sitting in the player locker lounge when Jannik walked in after a win.

“The match was tough,” He said as he briefly looked up from his phone to clap Jannik’s hand in congratulations. Then Frances smiled to himself before tacking on a cheeky line for the room to hear. “I’m sure the extra motivation helped… Knowing you’d get your favorite interviewer after, and all that."

Frances immediately seized with laughter, cracking himself up, and others around chuckled with equal enjoyment.

Jannik only shook his head as he made his way to the stationary bikes, smiling at Tiafoe’s antics, but he was mostly unfazed. He didn’t bother to give a response—no denial, not even much overt amusement—just that calm, neutral reaction. Masterfully deflecting without a single word.

It was the response he always gave when people brought it up, behind closed doors or otherwise.

Like when John McEnroe playfully called Jannik out on camera during a post-match interview after a Grand Slams quarterfinals. When Jannik approached the court again after winning, waving at the stands, it was McEnroe waiting to ask questions, mic in hand.

The crowd still listened and cheered throughout the interview, hanging on to all of Jannik’s words, but it was nothing compared to the reactions your interviews always prompted.

McEnroe decided to bring you up towards the end of his questions, dramatically sighing and shaking his head. "Alright, thanks for humoring me Jannik—Sorry it’s me today and not your favorite commentator."

The audience roared at your mention, but Jannik only exhaled a laugh, catching one of his ankles in his hands to stretch as he simply shook his head.

And McEnroe took Jannik’s lack of response as an answer. "Won’t even deny it, huh?"

Jannik just smiled, eyes drifting off to his box, and McEnroe took the action as reason to continue. Looking towards the camera in exaggerated belief, he threw his hands up, “And now he’s looking away from me—Wow, I can’t even keep his attention.”

Jannik laughed at that, placing a friendly hand on McEnroe’s shoulder. “No, I just—I saw my team say something so I looked over.”

“Right, right.” McEnroe kept on with his lamenting, teasing at the point further. “I was only the World Number One for a bit, won 70 titles…”

“I think—I think we go back to the questions, maybe.” Jannik said jokingly and McEnroe let out one more incredulous laugh.

“Okay, I’ll try… but I’m starting to doubt if I’m any good at that now…”

“I have no favorite.” Jannik finally offered, his voice faint as the mic was still pointed away from him.

“Too late, Jannik, it’s too late.”

The moment was all in jest, and John was sure to relay the interaction back to you later that day, as if you hadn't already watched it unfold live. You only laughed in response, teasingly placating him but never touching on what he’d suggested in the interview. McEnroe was just one of many peers in the sports broadcasting world that would make little comments to you, and you never gave them much of anything.

It was harder when players called you out though—especially when they did it live, in front of thousands of people.

Fresh off a hard-fought win, Matteo was still slightly out of breath when you grinned at him for the interview. "Matteo, great tennis out there today! We’ve been seeing you play at the net a lot more since your return—more confident, more aggressive with those volleys—tell us about that."

"No, no, I think I've always felt comfortable at the net.” He shook his head immediately, ducking his head down to really look at you, teasing glint in his eyes. “Maybe you’re too young to know my earlier game… or maybe you’re getting me confused with someone else."

The crowd already latched on to the reference, a collective ooh passing through the stands, you tried your best to play dumb despite that. You went the first reason he offered, "I mean I remember watching your games before I got on the job, but if I blocked out memories of volleys like today’s, then no one’s more sorry than I am."

Matteo smirked, looking out toward the crowd, not letting you change the subject or take the easy way out. "I know we’re both Italian, but come on."

You allowed a laugh, but were quick to move on, not lingering on Matteo’s implication very long.

The exchange had made the highlight reels, fans eating up both Matteo’s teasing and your barely-there reaction, and the way you had to abruptly ask the next question to avoid it from dragging on too long.

But the teasing, the compilations, the endless speculation—it was all fun, all harmless. Because as far as anyone knew, it was just a fan theory. Just playful banter and an easy chemistry that everyone got to bear witness to. And, if yours and Jannik’s response to all the teasing was anything to go by, it really was just baseless guess work—after all, neither of you had ever given concrete proof on any of it.

But most continued to entertain it anyways, because if it was true: it was only a matter of time before it came out…

---

The long-awaited proof came after an especially grueling match of Jannik’s.

The game had been absolutely brutal.

It was one of those that felt less like a tennis match and more like a battle of sheer will. Three and a half hours in the sweltering heat, the air thick and unmoving, turning every rally into a war of attrition. Jannik had fought through service games that stretched over ten minutes, through back-to-back tie-breaks where every point had felt like a match in itself. He had been pushed to his limits, his legs leaden, his body aching from the relentless pace. Every time it seemed like he had finally broken free, his opponent clawed back, forcing another hold, another deuce, another impossibly long rally.

By the final set, even his renowned movements had lost their usual crispness, his footwork a fraction slower, his serves just a little less sharp. But he refused to let up.

So when he finally won—when the last point ended and his opponent’s shot sailed long—it took him a second to process it. It took a second for everyone watching, too.

He barely lifted his arms in victory, letting his head drop as he panted. The stadium erupted around him, the crowd on their feet, but it seemed that all he could think about was how his entire body felt like it had been wrung out. He made his way to the net, movements heavy but thoughtful in his handshake and hug as he offered a good game to the opponent that matched and elevated his level throughout the game. Then trudged toward his bench with a nod to the umpire, shoulders still rising and falling with every exhausted breath.

The play had tested endurance more than anything—nearly four hours under the blazing afternoon sun, and no easy points. He held his face into his towel for a long moment, and then flicked water from his bottle over his face and on the back of his neck, his usual expression one of raw exhaustion.

He barely had enough left in him to toss a fist into the air when he made his way back onto the court, though the crowd had yet to cease their cheering. And then he all but stumbled his way over to you.

You. Waiting just off the service line, a steady presence in the chaos, a welcome face after the intense match.

And the familiarity of it, of you, cut through his exhaustion. Your expression was still pleasant, but it was different from the smile you usually had during interviews. There was something tight under your professional exterior—concern, maybe subtle, but unmistakable once anyone saw it. It was in the way your eyes flickered over him, assessing, before you even said a word.

And still, as he approached, his gaze softened—as it always did when his eyes landed on you. But his face was flushed from the heat, sweat dampening the curls at the nape of his neck, so as he stepped closer, you instinctively reached out, fingertips brushing against his arm before you pulled back.

Maybe people would pick up the small gesture later, but for now the stadium was still roaring, the energy crackling through the stands. You hadn’t moved to begin the interview yet, your crew still assembling beside you.

He gave you the slightest of nods, eyelids low and heavy. You held his eyes, raising a single brow, before giving the go-ahead to the production assistant. And then the mic was live, and you fell into interview mode.

Or you tried to, as best as you could.

"Jannik—what can I even say? That was a battle out there," you started. "I know you love tennis, but a part of you has to hate it at least a little right now. I mean, congratulations for sure, but are you regretting any life decisions?"

His head was down for most of your intro, chin tucked to his chest as he rolled out his ankles and looked at you through the brim of his cap. He smiled, despite himself—he could always count on you to keep the mood high.

“What do you mean? That was the most fun I’ve had in my life.” His voice was a little labored, but he managed to answer lightly.

“The scary part is, I believe you.” The crowd laughed. “I think we can all agree, watching that match was the most fun any tennis fan could have. Honestly.”

You had to raise your volume towards the end of your praise as the audience joined in to cheer in agreement. It really had been an incredible display of the sport.

The stands then erupted into a joint song, all chanting his name in unison. You dropped the mic as he stepped back to humbly receive the attention, and he looked up at the people while you looked up at him.

You held the mic back to him after the chants subsided, knowing his next move would be to thank the crowd. “Thank you everyone for supporting. It really is an incredible thing to play such tennis with this amazing crowd—it’s very special. Thank you!”

He waved up at everyone for a moment longer before returning his attention back to you. You were waiting patiently, watching him with a tender smile.

“We should probably be grateful that even such a taxing match could only make you love tennis more.” You restarted, picking back up from your initial question. “I don’t know if the sport could take it if that wasn’t the case—”

“No, I will be honest—” Jannik interjected, and you tilted the mic to him so it could catch his voice properly. “I will be honest. Right now I feel good, tired, but good. But maybe tomorrow, when I wake up, my legs will be sore and this kind of things… and then I might hate tennis—just a little bit. I will still be happy, but…”

“Wow, thank you for the honesty.” You laughed at the confession. “But even then, you say hate but it’s probably just like a ‘minus one’, right?”

“That’s true, 'minus one' on a scale of ten.”

“So where do you usually rank tennis, when you're not terribly sore? On a scale of ten?”

“... At least 11, maybe higher.” He said grinning, proud of the answer.

“So, we’re right back where we started then.” You threw up your hands in fake exasperation. “I’m trying to make you look bad here, at least help me a little.”

He shrugged and continued to smile at you, and you shook your head before moving the interview along. “In two days, hopefully after recovering from any remaining soreness, you’ll face off with De Minaur. He’s been playing really well throughout the tournament, how do you plan to approach that?”

He nodded thoughtfully, as he shifted to stretch his legs. It seemed that his adrenaline had faded again, along with the banter and the peak of the crowd’s celebration. The tension of exhaustion furrowed his eyebrows once more as his smile lessened while he took a moment to deliberate an answer.

“Alex and I are good friends, we practice together often and he’s a great player. I look forward to playing him in the finals. And hopefully, we can make a good match like today.”

You cast a glance at your production assistant, who signaled that you still had half the allotted session for the interview left, before nodding at Jannik’s answer. You decided to use up the bulk of the remaining time yourself, to help take the weight of Jannik a bit, and so you let your next question have a long and wordy lead up.

“You and Alex go way back. You kind of made your breakthrough a little after his, winning the ATP Next Gen tournament against him soon after he broached the top 20. You’ve kind of revolved near each other since then—you practice together often, like you mentioned—and it seems you and him often make big evolutions for your respective careers in and around the same tournaments.” You droned on, stalling an actual ask of any question, and you hoped no one took notice.

His face was strained, though his eyes were still on you—even though you hoped to cover your intent, it seemed Jannik had caught on to your attempt to alleviate the need for him to use any further brain power. You could tell he’d switched off from listening because of it, now focusing on his body. You continued to string together facts in the background, trying to catalog Jannik’s state as you did.

Within the minute and half you spoke, it seemed he couldn’t help but fidget in all his fatigue. He flexed his right wrist once. And lifted one heel, and then the other. Rolling his shoulders back four times and then forward three times. He hit the heel of his palm against his quads, once, then once more. And his fingers twitched, rubbing absently at the sorest spots—digging into the tender muscle of his forearm, kneading at the base of his neck.

Every shift in position came with the faintest grimace, something only you could catch in your proximity to him. In all your closeness to him.

Then Jannik parted his mouth every so slightly, a quiet exhale leaving him as he did. He shifted his jaw side to side in a slow, stiff motion, testing the tension held there before it clicked with a faint pop. And, words still on autopilot, you forgot yourself.

You kept speaking, though the spiel was probably well past erring on excessive, but you unconsciously reached a hand up. Your palm settled on the side of his face, index on the bone behind his ear, thumb on hinge of his jaw. Your fingers nestled under the hair at the nape of his neck as you gently rubbed your thumb back and forth.

It was a simple, almost thoughtless action. An instinct. An undeniably intimate one. And then, before you could move to pull away, he caught your hand in his.

He lifted it ever so slightly, so your palm rested on his cheek, and he pressed his own hand into yours as he leaned his face into your touch.

The gesture was effortless, organic, like he had done it a hundred times before. Like he needed it then.

He sighed and his eyes flickered closed. His thumb brushed against the back of your hand, and he didn’t let go immediately. And when he did open his eyes, his expression softened just slightly as he glanced at you, as if all his strain melted away with your warmth.

The whole display happened within just a handful of seconds, but it was like the stadium fell still. And it might have just been the moment between you, but as you slipped your hand back to your side from underneath his, it really did feel like the entirety of the crowd was holding their breath.

You had trailed off somewhere in your monologue, and you couldn’t be sure of where, but you didn’t dare risk a look at the camera or towards your crew. The audience came alive again, murmurs rippling through the stands.

Jannik ran a hand over his face, taking only a beat to reset and set his attention back to the interview, looking as collected as ever. You tried to follow suit and compose yourself, finally asking the last question. "So, how do you plan to go into the match with Alex?"

You resisted smacking your hand to your face as soon as you said it. That might as well have been the exact question you’d asked earlier—it basically was—and it was far from the natural recovery you’d wanted. But Jannik, to his credit, took the redundant ask in stride and mixed up his response from his last one.

“Alex has kind of this defensive playing style that matches well with mine, and, of course, he’s fast and has the ability to return every ball. I’ve seen him grow and develop into an even better player in the past few years… so, it will be a very tough match—but, we’ll see.”

“Yes, we will!” You tried not to slump in relief when you caught the times-up signal in your periphery, and faked the best, most enthusiastic camera voice you could muster. “Thank you, Jannik, and good luck!”

You avoided his eyes, and the lens of the camera, and he smirked a little at that as he waved once more to the crowd before walking back to his bag. You allowed a single glance at him when he moved to the tunnel after signing some autographs, and he was already looking towards you. His smile was small and teasing, and you could see the mirth in his eyes even from your distance. You shook your head at his expression, just enough for him to see—he should’ve been more scared.

Because you both were in for it.

It was all out now.

---

The internet lost its mind.

For a year—two, even—everyone had speculated. The entirety of the tennis world.

They analyzed every glance, every subtle moment, every clipped interaction, convinced there was something there. And now? There was no denying it.

What you both pulled in that last interview couldn’t be faked, it couldn’t be rationalized. This wasn’t playful banter or a viral compilation of smirks and long-held eye contact. This was something neither of you could explain away. It was intrinsic. Reflexive intimacy, something was too practiced, too familiar.

It was proof.

Slow-motion replays were everywhere even before you ended the interview. The reception flooded all social media platforms.

Okay that wasn’t just chemistry. That was straight-up muscle memory. This whole time??? This WHOLE time?? I KNEW IT. I KNEW IT. Guys we called it

Tennis journalists tried to stay professional, but even the most formal accounts posted some variation of "well, this is interesting… "

And the fan posts were endless. Someone strung together a complete timeline of your relationship, tracing back all the way to when you started your role. Another person edited a fake wedding invite.

And the players—the players…

When Jannik walked into the gym to cool down, it was like stepping into an ambush. All eyes were on him.

Everyone behind the scenes has stopped in their tracks to watch the legendary game of his that had just gone down. And so, everyone behind the scenes also witnessed your accidental reveal. The confirmation.

Every congratulations he received was immediately followed up with some sort of reference to it.

“Great game,” Alex De Minuar said. “...And, mate… the whole time?

"That game was insane, man…" Ben Shelton patted Jannik on the back as he passed, turning as he added. "And I guess now's as good a time as any… to hard launch I mean."

“No words, no words.” Carlos Alcaraz, from where he was stretching, shook his head up at Jannik in disbelief. “For that match, and for the reveal.”

Jannik chuckled a little with Carlos, shaking his head to himself as he moved deeper into the facility.

“I knew it so—” Coco just watched from a distance, her and Madi Keys stopping mid conversation when Jannik entered. "Like literally the whole time, I believed it."

"Niente da dire?" Nothing to say? Matteo drawled, clapping Jannik on the back with a smirk. "Neanche una spiegazioncine?" Not even a little explanation?

And, around then, you’d made your way back to the commentary box, bracing yourself. You heard John McEnroe's voice from behind the door before you even entered. You couldn't help but cringe at the volume.

“Where is she?” The sound of a headset being placed down, with significant force. Laughter came from around him. “Where is she at?”

“Here we go.” You whispered to yourself.

---

Okay so, tell me, like for real, were you surprised? Did you know they were together all along, or did I get you? Because, I meant to get you, I did. Tell me where you realized, please please. It's okay if it wasn't a surpise, dw

Okay anyways, this was so fun. Too fun. Got carried away, in a lot of places, but I hope it's a fun read. Did not in fact edit, don't care, too long, didn't read—jk I'll go back in at some point soon. But if you're one of the lucky early few, read with one eye closed, and with the other mostly squinted.

Got almost all my favs in here, not nearly enough of the ladies, but my near-goat Ms. Coco has a cameo and what else really matters. What else really matters? And maybe, while reading, you were wondering: when is Jannik coming in? Does he ever? Well, I was wondering the same, okay...

K , kisses xx

#jannik sinner #jannik sinner x reader #jannik sinner blurb #jannik sinner one-shot #jannik sinner fanart #jannik sinner smut #atp tour x reader #tennis #tennis fic #jannik sinner fluff #Jack Draper x reader #GameSetAttach #jannik sinner one shot

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theamberparadise · 16 days ago

Text

BEN DROWNED THIRSTS

includes three NSFW drabbles. (dear lord. Here we fucking go) (I'm not even sure if these are counted as drabbles anymore they're so long.)

TWs; semi-public s3x (in the mansion's living room) , use of "b1tch", "wh0r3", improper use of wires, reader's boyfriend ch34t1ng on her, very brief mention of gore, blood from aforementioned gore, BEN begging for reader to send n00ds, cnc

BEN shoving the handle of his game controller inside your sopping wet cunt after making you lose the game on purpose.

You dont know how you got here.

Well, actually, you do.

You were about to lecture BEN on freezing your character on purpose during your fifth round of street fighter just to make you lose, enabling him to snag the unfair ultimate win.

You were fuming. You pressed every single button on your controller in a fury, squeezing on the L and R tabs before the back of your neck is grappled onto and your face suddenly meets the cushion.

Trying to rise up, your body strains and fails, falling back face-first once again onto the stuffy covers of the couch, a pair of cold, heavy metal chains weaving through your wrists.

Your knees can feel the hard structure under the soft material, and your back was aching on how much it ended up arching against its whim.

You were restricted. And you were exposed.

And yet, you've made no other effort to try and struggle against BEN's control.

A part of you tried to say something, but only a whimper slithers its way through your lips.

BEN chuckles at this, a few repeats of his guffaws loops over again in a glitched out manner, seeing your thighs tremble right before his very eyes. You twitch as soon as his ice-cold fingertips made their way under the waist band of your red boy shorts, tugging them down until your bent knees.

You feel a regrettable heat across your face when the cold, empty, mocking air kissed your bare cunt.

"No panties, babe?" his thumb pressed on the space right between your asshole and the edge of your cunt, almost as if it was threatening to shove itself inside.

You can only do so much but let out only a whine, hands balling into fists-- both in frustration and impatience.

His thumb then slides itself down until it meets your clit.

Your teary eyes close themselves, hips moving on their own nudging at him, begging to be finally relieved of what you've been so deprived of since coming to this hell of a mansion.

BEN notices this, of course. He grins even wider at the effort, clicking his teeth at the show he found himself tuning in.

"Just like that, bitch. Grind on it, grind on it just like that. Fuck yeah," he chided.

The blinking screen with the paused game displayed was long forgotten. It had been so long since you felt like this, not even your vibrator can match the feeling, not even close.

And as if he can read your mind, he struck your ass and gripped it like he wanted to mark you.

"Much better than that subpar pathetic little vibrator of yours, huh?" you thought you couldn't get any redder. But then again, he wasn't any better.

You manage to choke out, "N-not like your tentacle hentai c-can do much e-either..."

You can basically feel his stare getting hotter by the second.

"So you do know these walls were thin," His grip was tighter, now. "And yet you kept on using your little pink pill. It's like you wanted me to hear, didn't you, pixie?"

Without warning, he raised his free hand up and shoved two fingers inside your sopping cunt, immediately curling itselves inside you, while drilling in and out rapidly.

You squealed and whined in inconsistent, loud bursts. Your thighs seem to be moving on their own, swaying and pushing your own cunt more and more onto his fingers.

Maybe you really did wanted him to hear you almost every nightnight, if this is what you would get in return.

"You have any idea on who's really been controlling the settings on your toy, pixie? Any idea on who's been turning it on and off whenever you're about to cum?" his fingers continued to ram itselves so deliciously inside your dripping pussy while you wallow in the sudden realization on why your vibrator has been misbehaving lately.

Honestly, you should've known. Your room was beside his, and you already had an idea on how flexible his abilities can be. You just never realized he'd take so much interest in using it on you.

The sudden absence of his fingers put you off-guard as you see his shadow reaching out to the table. You growl in frustration.

"Easy now, girlie. Wanna do something," He condescendingly muttered.

When you feel him sit upright on the cushions behind you, you turn your head at him.

In his hand, sits his controller. He waved it at you like a mocking reward, before glancing at it once again.

With a slight raise of his eyebrow the controller suddenly began vibrating like it would when his game character took a hit, except this time-- it was him making the offense.

Your eyes widened, and before you begin to say anything he shoves the handle of the controller inside your cunt, its constant bursts of vibrations shakes you like a leaf. You moan, almost scream in ecstacy, like a curse within you was finally lifted.

"Ben!" you moaned out, dragging his name out on your drooling tongue.

"Yeah, pixie? Got something to say?" He mocked, nudging the controller up and down repeatedly, watching small spurts of your juices stain the cushions beneath him and you.

He laughs, free hand reaching down once again to rub your clit harshly, catching endless amounts of your slick ont his cupped palm.

"Shit-- don't you think you're liking this a little way too much than you're supposed to, bitch?" he scoffed, while you can only muster up another loud squeal, the vibrations getting more intense by the minute.

"If you do actually like this, then," he sighed, chuckling darkly while pressing the controller deeper, making you let go and squirt all over him and the couch, leaving behind a big, shameful mess that dripped on the floor. "Fuck. I think it's game over for me too, baby."

While inside an abandoned networking station that The Operator had sent you two out to recon and investigate in, BEN takes advantage of the isolation and fucks you with the overlaying wires that tangled from the ceiling. And instead of telling him off, you dance for him.

It was easy-- get in, scope the place, see if the routers can be repaired and leave.

Except, now you couldn't do that; because when you leaned backwards onto the dusty table where the monitors lay, pesky wires started to slither under your shirt.

You breathed, then smiled.

Upon looking up, you find your cheeky mission partner grinning at you.

At his side, his fingers were wiggling and twirling, it was clear on who had control of these neglected tech that were now paying attention to you.

BEN just couldn't resist ogling at your presses tits under the corset you wore, and you swear you felt him lightly grazing his fingertips just above where the rips of your leather pants reveal your skin.

The drive was almost an hour long, and now he finally gets to touch you without disturbing your focus-- and you weren't complaining.

In fact, he keeps on pestering you about sending your nudes to him every time he gets horny. (And those times, were-- well. Every time.)

And you loved it. You loved at how his black scleras almost tear up whenever you try avoiding him in the hallways, how his code flashed at you for a moment when you give him a little sneak peek in front of the others, and the slight tint his ears would emulate when you let yourselves check each other out on training.

You giggle at the thought. You can feel the coolness of the metals that were sticking out of the slender rubbers, sending goosebumps wherever they touch.

"Begging for a preview, baby boy?" He pouts at the nickname, earning you a slap on the side of your ass from a thick USB wire.

You squeal playfully before reaching up on the zipper of your corset, licking your freshly glossed lips before pulling them down ever so slowly.

But before you can even get to your midriff, an aux cord wrapped itself around your wrist firmly, raising your dominant hand up in the air.

Then, another wire raised your other hand until both were wrapped over your head. Your feet were now being grappled on by the lower cables behind your heels, and you looked as if you were being crucified.

The monitors behind you suddenly flicked on, displaying bright white static as the speakers above you blared a song-- which of you knew was BEN's choice.

The side monitor on your left (by which you figured was the source of the audio) flickered a tab, with the iconic pause-play buttons with a title on top.

"Is There Someone Else? - The Weeknd"

The beat started and you can hear the own sounds of your zipper being pulled all the way down until it popped, dropping your corset to the ground.

Your belt followed. Then your pants, then your bra, then your panties.

BEN was watching you like a hawk ready to eat. And you were more than happy to take the place as his prey.

It wasn't long until two wires started prodding at your clothed cunt, rubbing and circling at your hole.

You couldn't help but moan when the wires entered you, ramming in and out, both at separately delicious paces.

Your hips were met with BEN's cold palms. He leans in-- close, until his chin was resting on your shoulder, swaying your hips side to side.

You were gasping and whining his ear off, the constant please, please, please that leaked from your lips like sin, begging to be forgiven.

BEN rocks your hips back and forth, left and right in accordance with the song's distorted and echoing beat, making the gooey, spongy spot inside you melt from the constant prodding.

Another wire wedged itself between your teeth, wrapping itself around your head, making you bite on a makeshift gag.

You play along, nudging your clit on the metal of his belt for more friction, tilting your chest up and down so your nipples can harden even more.

He notices this. He notices everything. From the way you squeal a little louder than you already were when he rocks your hips faster, the way your teeth gently bites the side of his jaw a little more tighter when he forces you deeper...

"C-cock.. pleash.." you desperately begged, his hard on practically staring at you from below.

"Aw," he cooed at you as if you were but a baby. "So now you're desperate?"

He lifts his head, making your foreheads touch each other, the forced proximity between you two releases even more slick from your cunt, adding more wet onto the floor.

"Can't believe you were hiding all this from me," he reaches for your nipple and tugs at it harshly, before patting your hip in cunning encouragement.

"C'mon, girl... work for it."

After witnessing your boyfriend's head blow up in front of his screen in real time, a digital entity pushes you inside your former lover's hentai porn, causing you to be used by the entity while you watch your boyfriend's corpse bleed out while you get ruined in a digital realm of sex.

If only you got there in time.

You were getting stalked, not by a real person, but by something. And that something: was a cursed version of Zelda who goes by the name of BEN.

At first, you didn't know what he wanted. But his intentions became clear after three weeks of mental-- and sexual torture that he himself instilled.

All it took was one sketchy link on a sketchy website promising a part time job at a little restaurant to get him to appear.

You tried to resist. You needed to resist. Because the way he made you feel, was anything other than what you have experienced before.

And when he revealed to you that your "scum of a boyfriend" was cheating on you on several sites after it was eating up at you ever since your second anniversary with him.

You sobbed, of course. You were at an all time low, now. The person you gave two years of your life to, was sexting other girls behind your back.

But after he told you he was about to kill your not-so-significant other, you panicked.

You tried to tell him that it might be you the police will accuse the murder of, but he was already gone.

So, you put on what you could from your laundry basket and sprinted to your boyfriend's apartment, but once you saw the haunting red pooling on his bedroom carpet, it was too late.

His corpse seemed shell-shocked. You glanced at his monitor screen and you can see flickers of green code glitching in and out of a hentai anime your boyfriend apparently watched. You blush.

Out of stupid curiosity, you slowly stepped closer and closer to the screen, before being pushed inside the surprisingly physically accessible.

You grunt at the fall and after you take a look at your now-animated hands, you come to the conclusion that you were in a world that wasn't yours.

You met the entity face to face, and bit by bit, one thing led to another.

A lick turned to a kiss. A kiss turned into hickeys. Hickeys turned to undressing each other.

He terrified you. Yet, you didn't fight back.

And before you knew it, you were being pounded doggy style against the virtual barrier that reveals the gnarly sight of your now-dead boyfriend.

BEN tugs your hair up, giving you a full view of what he's done.

"Look at him. Fucking look at him!" he hissed, ramming into you even harder.

"What the fuck did I tell you, huh? What the fuck did I tell you?" the side of his face was touching yours, his breath lingered on your ear.

"H-he..ungh!" you choked out. His other arm was hooked on your neck, leading to your voice becoming strained and broken.

"He what? What, pixie?" he growled in an awfully, mocking glitched manner.

"H-he... ishn't.. Guhck! good enoufgh... for-- m-me!" you broke out. His chuckle was echoing in your ear.

"And who the fuck owns you? Who makes you feel this way?" when he realized you were too cock-drunk to respond, he strikes on your ass, earning a squeal from you.

"Y-you! Only you..!" You mewled out.

"That's right, bitch," he rammed into you harder. "Fuck-- you're gonna make me insane, girl."

You were screaming in ecstasy at this point. It didn't take you long to finally let go what you've been holding in for him, shaking and squirting all over the animated floor in his digital world, feeling his warm cum coat your ass.

You drop flat on the floor, your red, sore ass remaining in the air, fully exposed to him-- and only to him.

"Whore," He spat. Chuckling in a repeated manner, he palmed your ass, lotioning in his cum deeper and further up to your hips. All you could do was whine pathetically.

"I wonder how that would look like in real life," he teases. "Preferably with you covered in that pig's blood. Oh-- red would look so good on you, pretty."

#ben drowned x reader #ben drowned creepypasta #ben drowned headcanons #ben drowned #creepypasta #creepypasta headcanon #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta fandom #creepypasta au

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rainrot4me · 18 days ago

Note

Let's say the creeps have a wound that isn't fatal at all but it needs to be stitched up. And when the attractive nurse that works beside EJ asks them to lift up their top and begins to treat them, the creeps take a certain "liking" to them.

Would they a) flirt, b) say nothing but flex their abs, c) wink at the reader or their friends, or d) all of the above

During every one of these, just imagine EJ in the corner glaring daggers at these idiots and scoffing every once in a while.

✦ . jeff the killer

D) All of the above.

Flirts without shame, immediately and constantly.

“You sure you’re qualified, sweetheart? ‘Cause you’re makin’ my heart race.”

Absolutely flexes the second his shirt is lifted. Grins when you pretend not to notice, then grins even harder when you sway at him to quit being so tense so you can stitch him.

Will wink at you and anyone watching, especially if it makes you blush.

Might “accidentally” flinch when your hands touch his skin, just to get your attention and make you look up at his face. You’re met with smugness.

“Might need a kiss to make it better. Y’know, for medical reasons.”

✦ . ticci toby

A little of B), and then A) with accidental flirting.

Nervous laughter. Tugs his hoodie up slowly and immediately regrets it when his whole body feels like it’s on fire from embarrassment.

Doesn’t know what to say but ends up flirting by accident.

“So uh… how much of me do you need to see? Just medically speaking, of co-course.”

Tenses up hard the moment you touch him and swears he’s fine, even if he’s not.

Red ears, twitchy grin, glances at the door like he might bolt the second you take your hand off him.

Might whisper: “You’re kinda hot. I mean—your hands. They’re warm. I mean—” shuts up.

✦ . masky (tim wright)

B) Flex his abs + say nothing (but he’s dying inside).

Tries to act unfazed but is clearly tense the entire time.

Won’t flirt, he’s too awkward. But oh, he’s thinking about it.

Definitely flexes the second your fingers graze his torso. Pretends it’s “muscle tension.”

Eyes flick down to your lips more than once before he looks away fast.

Mutters something like, “Just do it quick,” but his voice cracks slightly.

Later? He won’t stop thinking about it and lowkey hopes he gets injured again.

✦ . hoody (brian thomas)

C) Wink at you, then A) flirt.

Cool and calm on the outside. This man oozes nonchalant charisma.

Pulls his hoodie off painfully slowly and locks eyes with you just to watch you get antsy. Winks as you reach toward him, then leans in just a little too close.

“You always this gentle, or am I special?”

Quiet, low flirting. He wants you to blush without even realizing it.

Will whisper: “Careful, Nurse. You’re getting awfully handsy there.” (He’s bluffing. He likes it.)

✦ . ben drowned

A) Flirt.

Absolutely flirts. Nonstop. Thinks it’s a game and he’s winning.

“Hope you’re better with your hands than you are at hiding that blush.”

Might glitch the lights in the infirmary just to spook you and get closer, cooing about being a little scary-cat as if it wasn’t his doing.

Doesn’t flex—he knows you’re already looking.

Might “accidentally” short-circuit your phone so you have to talk to him again later.

“You patch me up now, I’ll return the favor later however you’d like, cutie.”

✦ . clockwork

D) All of the above.

The moment you say, “I’ll need you to lift your shirt,” she grins wide, toothy, and dangerous.

“Well damn, at least take me to dinner first,” she purrs as she shrugs out of her jacket and lifts her shirt halfway.

Flexes on purpose. Definitely watches your reaction like it’s the highlight of her day.

If any of the other creeps are around? “See that? They’re into me.” And then she’ll wink at them, just to rile everyone up.

Flirts the whole time you’re stitching her, with comments like, “You gonna patch me up and leave me wanting, or…?”

✦ . laughing jack

D) All of the above, but exaggerated and theatrical.

Makes it a whole show. Shirt flung dramatically, exaggerated gasp:

“Oh nurse, be gentle with me!”

Flexes and strikes fake model poses, making it harder for you to stitch him. It takes you yelling before he sits down fully.

Winks shamelessly and adds commentary like, “This is starting to feel like fanfiction. Should I be moaning?”

He flirts aggressively—just to see you squirm.

The minute you’re done, he goes, “Need a reference for future injuries?” and offers his number.

✦ . slenderman

None of the above… until you think he won’t react.

No visible injury to stitch (or is there?), and yet…

He’ll allow you to tend to him, utterly silent, still, and unsettling. There’s no obvious injury, so it’s more of an evaluation than anything.

Just when you start to relax, he leans in, voice smooth like silk:

“You handle sharp things well. That’s reassuring.”

His version of flirting is hypnotic and intensely intimate.

You leave shaken, unsure if he was going to kill you, kiss you, or kick you out of the mansion.

꩜ .ᐟ

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tonixe · 2 years ago

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ਏਓ `cute little housewife

``a/n: I'm back, and I have so many good ideas for Coriolanus it is so crazy, so be ready for that. And also if yall have any ideas DM them or request them <3.

warning: p in the v, unprotective, creampie, somnophillia, breeding kink. ** (not proofread)

pairing: Coriolanus x wife!reader

word counter: 1.1k

It's been too long since you have seen your husband, he was always busy in the capitol.

You knew his schedule by heart, knowing he was mostly busy throughout the day and night. You tried to wait on the parlor, laying down on a velvety couch and resting your head on the armrest. It was already 12 when you looked at Big Ben's clock staring at you. Opening the fridge and placing the food in, stretching your body back. Before walking to the bathroom, turning the knob and the hot water flooded out of the faucet to the tub. Putting your hand in the water, it was warm. It was already too late to wait for him any further, so you thought to get ready for bed.

Putting some bath bombs inside, hearing the sizzling of the bath bomb, with the colorful colors diffusing into the water making it look vibrant. Turning off the running water, strip off the clothing on your body. Stepping inside the tub, relaxing your shoulders, and laying your head back.

Parting your legs, allowing your muscles to relax. "Finally" You whispered, closing your eyes and easing your joints. The steam of the water fogged up the mirrors, You laid down in there for an hour, before stepping out and wrapping your wet body with a warm towel. Putting your feet on the fluffy carpet. You did your usual routine changing into a light nightgown that draped your body fully, it was fairly hot today. Getting into your luxurious shared king-sized bed. Closing your eyes, You slipped into the dream world.

Coriolanus stepped onto the porcelain flooring, as it was the large doors were closed by guards. Coriolanus felt pent up from work, walking down to your guy's shared bedrooms. Taking off his shoes and throwing his jacket somewhere else, loosened his tie as he walked to the bedroom. Immediately looking at your peaceful figure on the bed. He found it cute, walking to your side and looking at your calm sleeping face.

He felt ashamed feeling the need for you, your nightgown was skimpy and it was see-through. Exposing every curve of your body and your breasts. His hand touches your face gently. You did stir from that sudden movement. The sudden movement lifted the blanket from your body, making your body more visible to his eyes, making you stir a little bit. His eyes widen at the lack of panties you had, his hands flipping your nightgown over revealing your slit. The cold air makes you almost wake up before he traces your folds making you tense up, your legs locking in his hand. "Haah~" you moan through your lips at the feeling, Before he gently opens your legs, sliding one of his fingers into you, he hears quiet moans from your lips.

Making him more excited, thrusting a few more digits into you, more moans came out of your mouth, as he heard some groaning. Feeling your cunt getting wetter, he felt you tensing up against his finger before he withdrew. Your were deep asleep, rubbing your legs together. Looking at your figure, your body was hot and a blush covered your face, heavy breathing coming from you. "Please–" you murmured out.

He hovered himself above your sleeping form, being careful to not wake you up, playing with his belt slipping off his pants then his boxers. He line himself to your slit, and before thrusting into you, he groaned out in pleasure. He slid into you before his hips collided with yours, your moans becoming louder, "Fuck" he whispered.

Ripping off the top of the nightgown, rolling your nipples with his finger, feeling your nipples getting harder as you got tighter around him. Placing the palm of his hand on the bed, his hips smacking yours, his ball hitting your lower core. Your walls massaged his cock, as he groaned pushing his cock further into you. "Haah~" moans rolling off your tongue, "Corio~" You murmured.

He grabs your thighs and presses them down onto your chest, he gets on top of you, his chest pressing yours, as he thrusts into you, feeling you tighten around him, his ears hearing your heavy breathing.

You woke up almost as soon as he was getting to his climax, "Honey?" your tired eyes looked at him, rubbing your eyes. Your eyes felt heavy, as you moaned. "Fuck, I just really need you" he growled into your ear, moving out and in, before his lips touched yours, in a hot kiss. a string of saliva between both of your lips, looking down at your core, his cock slipping out of you and forceful going back in, making you jolt. "Corio—" you moaned.

His hips smacking onto yours, his hands putting your legs onto your chest, into a better mating press. He looked at your fucked out face, your body feeling ecstasy and pleasure. You felt his pace slowing down, feeling his climax coming in soon, your eyes looking at the messy scene in between your legs. "I'm going to give a little cute baby inside of you" He groaned into your ear, groping your tits.

Realizing your nightgown was gone, your body is unveiled to him. Feeling his hot load painting your gummy walls, he shoved himself into you, fucking the cum into your hole. Your hands gripping the sheets, as you cummed too, feeling a rush of hot liquid dripping out of you. Before he slips out of you, his soft cock is pulled out of you. You missed the warm length inside of you. The erotic scene of your naked exposed body and your pussy dripping from his cum, your dewy, sweaty body, and the ripped fabric around your body.

You were still tired, and weary. You tried to lean onto the headrest but failed, your back laying onto the soft mattress, Looking down at the mess between your legs. Rubbing your eyes, yawning. "Come" You motioned him towards you, patting the side of the bed, "Lay down"

The way you looked made him hard again, the lewd and vulgar scene of your body, white liquid dripping out of your pussy, your breast decorated with little hickies and bites. Bruises and marks on your waist and your hair were a mess. Sounds of panting echoed in the chamber of the room, he obeyed laying next to you still in the nude. He pushed your body close to you, rubbing your waist gently. Feeling him pressed onto your ass. Feeling him close to made you feel safe, his hand secure around you, you felt your eyes drooping down and falling asleep again, with his hands around you.

#coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus smut #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus x you #corio snow #coriolanus snow smut #tom blyth #president coriolanus snow #tbosas x reader #tbosas movie #tbosbas #tbosas #president snow x reader #snow x reader #snow x you

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aemondapologistfrfr · 1 year ago

Text

Sworn Protector

aegon x sister!wife!reader x the bloody ben we thought we got but we’re delusional 🫠

anniversary gift pt 2 but can be read alone!

Summary: Benjicot Blackwood is Aegon and yours sworn protector. He takes your protection and pleasure very seriously much to Alicent and Viserys dislike.

Warnings: 18+, graphic depiction of murder fr, blood, drinking, swearing, oral(m and f receiving), fingering, public, penetration(p in v), double penetration 🫣😮‍💨, honestly this whole fic is a warning idk what to say!!!!

Authors Note: “look at me, this isn’t you.” moment and honestly good for y/n, fucking the sworn protector is a family tradition apparently 🫣, no bc i’m enjoying writing this problematic throuple too much 🧎🏼‍♀️, i may make one more part idk but it’s set up for that so we shall seeeeee

Word Count: 3.9k

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ �� ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

I jolt awake as I hear the relentless crack of bone and squelch of blood. Aegon is like a rock next to me refusing to wake or be bothered. I pull on one of his shirts and walk to the door to listen through. Metal slams into flesh repeatedly as I crack open the door and gasp at the scene before me.

“Ben?! Ben stop!” my balance wavers as I rip open the door and see the state of the man beneath him. “Benjicot Blackwood I said that’s enough!” I shout firmly and his bloodied fist halts, hoovering above the mans pulverized face.

“I’m sorry.” Ben turns to look at me as the man’s blood continues to cascade down his face.

Guards rush into the hall and stop abruptly taking in the scene. They look from me to Ben and then down to the unrecognizable body. Some of them put their hands on their sword pommels and before I can think I step in front of Ben protectively.

“Princess go back to your chambers and we will deal with this.” a guard holds his hands out in front of him slowly walking towards me.

“If you come closer to her you will be in the same state as this man here.” Ben spits as he rises and towers behind me.

“Enough,” I hiss out to him. Gods the one time I wish Aegon were actually awake to help me deal with something. “You all will see to it that this mess is cleaned up. Ser Benjicot was simply doing his duty and protecting Aegon and I. I’ll hear no more on this matter at this hour.” my voice unwavering hoping they’ll listen and heed my words.

“What happened that could lead to this?” a guard asks baffled, his face turning queasy.

“I intend to question him myself, along with Aegon, to get to the bottom of this. We shall speak on the morrow.” I toss over my shoulder pushing Ben into our chambers and sealing us shut behind the doors.

“What the fuck?” I push him harshly into open space of our chambers. “What the fuck was that?” I ask again throwing my hands in the air at a loss for words.

Ben says nothing and takes a seat in a chair as I fill up a glass with wine. I begin to light some candles around our chambers as it’s still hours before sunrise. I take a long sip and exhale deeply. I walk over to the bed and shake Aegon a little more roughly than needed.

“What is it?” Aegon pushes me off of him and rolls over.

“Get up. We have a situation.” I grit out through my teeth. “Ben just slaughtered a man outside of our chambers and I don’t know what to do.” Aegons eyes shoot open.

“What are you talking about?” he sits up and his eyes bulge as they land on Ben’s bloody face. “What the fuck?”

“Hey.” Ben smiles and offers us a small wave.

“What happened?” Aegon rises out of bed completely nude and takes a seat in a chair near Ben.

I refill my glass while pouring them each a cup of wine and bring it to them. I claim the couch and spread out. I cross my legs and take a sip of wine as I look to Ben expectantly for him to begin telling his story.

“Some cunt from the servant staff was walking the halls with his little cunt friends,” Ben’s voice starts to rise. “He started saying all it took to become the new sworn protector was to fuck you. He said he planned to walk into your chambers and take you as you were while Aegon slept beside you.” I can feel the rage radiating off of him in palpable waves.

“So you killed him? Brutally?” Aegon raises his eyebrows shaking his head in disbelief yet a smile begins to form on his lips.

“Yes.” Ben says nodding as if nothing is wrong with that answer

“Well at least we know you do a thorough job.” Aegon shrugs and sips his wine. “Shall we call you our sworn executioner now?” he smirks walking to the bathing chambers.

“Come, let us clean you up.” I hum offering Ben my hand.

Ben looks up to me as he grabs my hand. His gaze never leaves mine as he places a soft kiss on my forehead. I lead us over to Aegon who has a basin of water and a clean cloth. We have Ben sit as we begin to remove his bloody armor.

“Thank you for protecting me in the halls, although, it shouldn’t have come to that.” Ben looks to me as I begin wiping off his face.

“We all protect each other.” Aegon adds as he removes the last piece of Ben’s armor. “Truth be told, this will most likely be blamed on us anyway.” Aegons eyes look to mine.

“As long as Ben can stay I care not.” I say shrugging as I try to wipe dried blood off his brow.

“Agreed.” Aegon hums bringing a clean cloth to Ben’s neck to start wiping the blood from there.

We finish cleaning Ben in silence as he stares at the both of us with devotion. The pile of bloody armor is moved to the bath so it can be washed in the morning. Our hands begin to slowly undress Ben and lead him over to our bed.

“Thank you for protecting my wife.” Aegon hums helping Ben lay back on the bed. “Let me reward you.” his smile is devilish as he slowly begins to remove Ben’s underwear.

Once freed Ben’s cock bounces against his lower stomach as he stares at us with low lids. Aegon nestles himself between Ben’s thighs as I cuddle into Ben’s side. I turn Ben’s head to face mine and capture his lips into a heated kiss. Ben groans deeply into my mouth as Aegon licks him from base to tip.

“Shh, shh,” I whisper as I trail kisses down his jaw.

Aegon takes Ben fully in his mouth, accepting every inch until he reaches the base. Aegon begins to lift his head leaving trails of spit coating his member. Ben lets out a strangled whimper as Aegon brings his hand up to his balls.

“Fuck, my Prince.” Ben rasps as one of his hands tangles in Aegons hair.

Aegon chuckles around Ben as his hips begin to jerk. Aegon uses both of his hands to push Ben’s hips into the bed and shower him with the pleasure of his mouth. I start to kiss and suck on Ben’s neck as our names fall from his lips like a prayer.

“Come for us.” I murmur against his neck before I bite down on his pulse point.

A low groan spills from Ben’s mouth as his hips twitch as he begins to fill Aegons throat. Aegon licks every drop that Ben has to offer him. He continues offering small licks as Ben’s thighs begin to shake.

“My prince,” Ben groans pulling Aegon off of him by his hair.

Aegon chuckles lowly as he crawls up Ben’s body and claims his lips for his own. Aegon releases Ben and turns to me to ensnare me. I sigh into Aegons mouth as I taste Ben. We slowly pull apart and all cuddle into each other on the spacious bed.

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

My eyes flutter open as the morning light peeks through our windows. I untangle myself from Ben and Aegon and softly pad over to the doors. I poke my head out to ask a guard to have a servant bring up some fresh water and cloths.

The supplies are brought to me with haste along with a letter for the three of us to hold an audience with the King and Queen once we dress. I bring the supplies into the bathing chambers and begin to clean off Ben’s bloody armor. The bath water has turned a deep burgundy and I sigh when I see that it’s also crusted under my nails.

“You don’t have to clean up after me.” Ben whispers to me as I jump at his voice.

“Am I not ceaselessly cleaning up after the both of you?” I raise my eyebrow as a smile spreads across my face.

Aegon begins to stir from the bed and sits up pouting at being left alone. He gets up and joins us in the bathing chambers and I tell them about the note I received. We all slowly pull our clothes on and Aegon and I help Ben put his armor back on.

Upon opening the door we’re greeted with the stain that has been left from last nights events. We walk past silently and flow down down the steps. As we turn the corner we can see Viserys atop the throne looking less than pleased.

“I’m far too sober for this.” Aegon whispers in my ear.

“Hush,” I elbow him in the side.

“Your Grace.” Ben says bowing deeply.

“Who cares to tell me what happened last night?” Viserys voice is rough as he looks to all three of us.

“A man was heard loudly speaking in the halls of how it was his plan to come into our chambers to rape and harm me. Ser Benjicot was simply protecting me from those events occurring.” I offer hoping my somewhat thought out words will distract them from the brazen violence that followed.

“So you took his life? We have dungeons for a reason boy.” Viserys voice carries throughout the empty hall as he looks to Ben.

“I-“ Ben starts.

“Is it not his job to protect me and Aegon? By whatever means necessary?” I challenge Viserys as my voice rises to meet his.

“Daughter, I’m not mad that he protected you, I’m mad that there’s stain on the stone reminding us of the brutality.” Viserys eyes narrow on me.

“Gods save us! There’s a stain on the stone.” Aegon brings a hand to his forehead rolling his eyes.

“Aegon.” Alicent warns staring daggers at him.

“You three already cause me enough rumors and whispers throughout court. If you’re going to kill someone for my daughter at least make sure there’s no one to witness it.” Viserys relents shaking his head looking to Ben. “All three of you leave the Keep, I do not wish to see you for the rest of the day.” he waves his hand at us in dismissal.

Ben takes us past the guard quarters so he can remove his armor before we leave for the day. We linger on the front steps not really having an idea of where to go. I suggest we claim an empty villa in the gardens and have drinks and food catered to us.

“Excellent idea, my love.” Aegon claps his hands together. “And where are the gardens again?” he clears his throat.

“This way.” I roll my eyes and lead us.

I find us a villa surprisingly quick and servants are upon us in moments. We order many bottle and ask for them to close the billowy curtains around us for extra privacy. We have an intimate table at the entrance and a couple of couches and chairs tucked away in the back.

“Why didn’t I know about this place sooner?” Aegon relaxes back into his chair with his glass.

“Because you wouldn’t appreciate it as the sanctuary that it is.” I hum as I take a sip of the sweet wine.

“I’m sorry about last night.” Ben breathes out looking to us.

“Don’t be.” Aegon scrunches his brows.

“My actions just made your father kick us out of the Keep for the day.” he clenches his fists angry with himself.

“Fuck the Red Keep.” I shrug my shoulders with a smile.

“Fuck the Red Keep.” Aegon raises his glass to me and we look to Ben expectantly.

“Fuck the Red Keep.” Ben sighs raising his glass.

“You don’t have this position just because you fuck me. You are a brave knight who understands us but loves and protects us anyway.” I say grabbing his hand with an appreciative smile.

“Our father is basically a walking corpse. By the time we stumble into the Keep later he’ll probably forget all about it.” Aegon offers with a lopsided smile.

“And we can forget all about it right now.” I drain my cup and go to refill it.

We sit and drink and let Ben vent for a while listening intently to him. More drinks are brought to us along with lunch and we leisurely graze. The air starts to get warmer and we all shed out of our first layer of clothing leaving us absolutely indecent.

“Up on the table. I want to write my apology with my tongue.” Ben turns to me with low lids as his words go straight to my core.

He moves our glasses and bottles then turns to me expectantly. I slowly rise out of the chair on shaky legs, giggling as the wine rushes to my head. Ben stands grabbing my waist and placing me on the table. He claims his seat once more and pulls me closer by my hips causing my silk slip to bunch around my waist.

“Finally we have some good food.” Aegon chuckles lowly as Ben starts to dip his head down.

Ben places a soft kiss on my wet center sending a shiver through my body. He trails his tongue along my slit making my breath catch in my throat. A breathy sigh escapes my lips as he pulls back to place small kisses on my inner thighs.

“Ben,” his name seeps out of my mouth as he playfully bites down on my tender flesh.

He props my legs on his shoulders and finally brings his torturous mouth to my core. His main focus becomes my clit and at the rapid pace his tongue is moving I would believe that he’s truly writing his apology. A cry erupts from my throat as he slides two fingers into me.

“You guys are so hot.” Aegon groans.

My eyes follow Aegons voice and our eyes lock. My eyes roll back as Ben starts to curl his fingers. Once my vision returns Aegon is hovering over the table and claims my lips. I squeak out in surprise as wine trickles out the sides of our mouth as Aegon brought some with to the kiss. I get lost in the taste of Aegon and the wine as my hips begin grinding onto Ben’s face.

Ben’s rhythm never falters as he begins to pump his fingers faster. Aegon releases my mouth and I let out a loud moan as Ben starts with a third finger. One of my hands buries itself in Ben’s hair and he grunts as I pull. Moans fall from my mouth like a symphony as my orgasm slams through my body washing me in pleasure.

Ben continues with his tongue and fingers while pulling my hips even closer to his face. My whole upper body is arching off the table as he continues his assault. Aegon brings his mouth back to mine to try and hide the whimpers and moans that have been pouring from my mouth.

“Quiet down before I shove my cock in your mouth to silence you.” Aegon says hoovering above my lips.

I come hard squeezing my legs shut around Ben’s head and sobbing into Aegons mouth. Ben offers small licks that continue to send jolts through my body. He finally detaches himself from me and looks up to me with a wet face.

Ben removes both of my legs slowly offering kisses down each until they’re hanging off the table. Aegon grabs my ankle and pulls me over to him. I slide across the table giggling as I stop in front of Aegon.

“I think I would like a taste too.” he hums before bringing his mouth to my over sensitive core.

“Aegon fuck,” I breathlessly pant as his tongue laps at me.

I fall back onto the table with a thud as his tongue zeros in on my clit. My body is trembling with pleasure at every swirl of his tongue. Ben captures my lips in a kiss and swallows all of my whimpers. My hips rise off of the table as I explode all over Aegons tongue.

“Fuck, please,” I whine voice cracking as he continues with his mouth.

“You can give him one more on the table.” Ben coos to me as he pushes my slip the rest of the way up.

Once I’m fully exposed on the table Ben wastes no time reaching for my breasts. His fingers are quick to start pinching and pulling my nipples. Both of their names fill the space between the pants that tumble from my mouth.

“Aegon, I- I, fuck Ben,” a sob tears through me as I come across Aegons tongue again.

“Mm, such a good girl for us.” Ben whispers smoothing my hair.

Aegon removes himself to sit up and take in my disheveled state. My breathing is ragged as my chest rises and falls. Ben slowly pulls my slip back down and they shower my body with kisses offering me words of praise.

“Come, let’s go lay on the couches with some wine.” Ben offers me his hand as Aegon gathers the bottles and cups.

As I hop off the table my legs threaten to give out underneath me. I giggle as Ben’s hands rush to my forearms to help steady me. We all collapse onto the couch which is more of the size of a bed thankfully for us. Aegon hands us our cups filled anew and we all sip in silence.

The wine helps me calm my breathing as I sink back into the couch between the two of them. They both have hands grasped on my thighs rubbing soothing patterns and squeezing softly.

“I wanna fuck you.” Ben’s breath fans across my neck as he trails kisses up my jaw.

“Please Ben,” I whine as his hand travels under my slip to wet core.

“Get on your stomach. Head in Aegons lap.” he nods his head standing up to tower above us.

I slowly start to turn over and place my head on Aegons thighs and raise my ass into the air. I feel the day bed dip behind me and turn my head to look up at Aegon who is smirking down at me. Ben’s hands go to my hips and lift them up to meet his. His tip swirls around in my wetness and glides against my clit causing me to gasp.

“You ready?” Ben asks breathlessly trailing a hand down my spine.

“Yes,” I mewl as I rock my hips back.

He slowly slides every inch into me as I bury my head in Aegons lap. Once his hips are flush against my ass I sigh pushing it back into him seeking more friction. He pulls out and slams back into me almost sliding me across Aegons legs. Both of his hands grab my hips roughly as he starts pounding into me.

Moans keep pouring from my mouth has his hips repeatedly snap into mine. My hands are gripping Aegons thighs as my nails bite into him. I rest my head on his thigh and get lost in my pleasure as Ben continues with no end in sight.

“Keep her quiet.” Ben looks to Aegon as a particularly loud moan falls from my lips.

Aegon is quick to slide his underwear down and free his cock. He wastes no time trailing it along my parted lips. I let my tongue fall out of my mouth and press into his hardened length. Aegon groans and begins to push himself inside my mouth.

“Taking us both so well.” Aegon groans moving my hair to the side so he can watch.

I begin to sloppily bob my head as spit trails out from the sides of my mouth. I groan around Aegon as Ben lifts my hips a little higher to reach a new angle. Tears are streaming down my cheeks as Aegon sets a pace of his own.

Aegon and Ben find a rhythm where when pulls out the other is pushing in. My body is shaking from the amount of pleasure I’m receiving and I let out a harsh sob when Aegons sneaking fingers find my abandoned clit.

“Fuck, squeezing me so good.” Ben pants as his hips begin to falter before he finds a new rhythm.

Aegon shoots down my throat without warning and it begins to spill out the side of my mouth. He pulls out panting and stokes my jaw affectionately. Ben’s hands travel up my spine before wrapping around my front. He pulls me up flush against his chest and begins driving his cock up into me. He wraps a hand around my throat and turns my head to look back at him.

“Beautiful.” Ben whispers as his mouth attaches to mine.

Aegons come mixes with saliva trailing down mine and Ben’s face. His hand applies soft pressure and I kiss him even harder. I whine into Ben’s mouth as I feel Aegons traitorous tongue begin to softly lick at my clit. Ben and I break away from the kiss and gaze down at Aegon. Ben and I both come as we look upon him under us.

We all slowly pull apart and fall back onto the bed, breathing ragged. Aegon takes a sip of wine and passes the cup to us. We all look thoroughly ruined as we lounge back into the couch.

“Someone has to call a servant for more wine.” Aegon sighs as he picks up the empty bottles.

“You’re already up.” I roll my eyes. “Wait! Put some fucking pants on before you scar the staff.” I shout at him before he opens the curtains.

“As if your moans didn’t do that already.” Aegon tosses over his shoulder as he slips back into his trousers.

Aegon breezes out of the villa and Ben tucks me into his side. He kisses me lazily as his fingers stroke my cheek. We pull apart when Aegon returns with more bottles and candles as the sun is beginning to set.

We continue drinking late into the night and then start to pull our clothes on to make our way back to the Keep. We stumble in the main doors giggling and hanging off of each other. As we make it up the stairs Alicent is standing in front of our chambers with a scrunched brow.

“All of you get to bed. Now.” she says through her teeth. “We will discuss your actions in the garden on the morrow when, Gods hoping, you all will be sober.” she looks to us with disgust and swishes back to her chambers.

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

masterlist

#bloody ben smut #bloody ben x reader #benjicot blackwood #benjicot x reader #benjicot blackwood x reader #aegon ii smut #aegon smut #aegon x reader #aegon x reader x ben #hotd imagine #hotd fic #hotd smut #x reader #x reader smut #viserys targaryen #alicent hightower

513 notes · View notes

dwonfilm · 9 months ago

Text

Teaching tech. | Soldier Boy x Reader

Summary: Butcher tasked you with the job of teaching a freshly thawed Ben, aka Soldier Boy, how to use technology. First off you started with teaching him about the iPhone.

Warnings: bit of Solider Boy being Soldier Boy but otherwise, mostly fluff.

“Dammit!” [Y/N] heard Ben’s voice from the other room and she sighed. Next was a smash and that made her rush back into the bedroom. Immediately Ben’s eyes lifted up to see her coming in and he scoffed. “I didn’t break the cocksucking thing this time.” He stated plainly. “Good,” she answered. “I don’t have the money to buy you a fourth phone.” She moved to sit on the bed next to where he was currently sitting. “This shit ain’t a phone, it’s a thin ass rock with futuristic shit inside. Phones have a base and a receiver or they were these massive bricks with buttons—not whatever the fuck a touch screen is-“ Ben ranted, but [Y/N] just laughed. “Yeah, they were those things once but this is 2022. Life’s changed a lot and eventually you’re gonna need to learn all these things.” She spoke, picking up the phone that was on the bed between them, swiping up to unlock it. Bits of her [Y/H/C] hair covered her face while her attention focused on the screen. Ben just watched, a grumpy expression on his facial features. “How’d you get stuck doing this anyway? Where’s the Cum Guzzler or the Cheerio?” She laughed, Ben’s nicknames for people were always pretty humorous. “Hughie is scared of you and Butcher can barely explain anything in the entire history of life’s existence.” Ben gently laughed at her answer. Fingers moved across the screen, making selections that she didn’t think were necessary to explain to him at the moment. “So, the bean pole’s afraid of me huh?” He asked, not really expecting an answer. However it did bring up another question. “Why aren’t you scared of me?” His tone seemed indifferent but there was a hint of something more inside his eyes. Something she was oblivious to since her own were focused on the screen of the phone in her hands. Though, she slowly gazed up from it for a moment. “Honestly,” she began with a pause directly after. It was as if she was attempting to think about how to answer him. “I was at first, a little bit, but I just try to sympathize.” He scoffed almost immediately. “You sympathize with a piece of shit like me? No wonder it’s so easy to get you women in the sack. Jesus Chris-“ She turned her head and shot a glare at him. “You can sympathize with people without wanting to fuck them, for starters.” She rolled her eyes, moving her gaze back to the phone in her hands. “No one’s perfect, not that it’s excusing.. well everything. Despite all that, no one here has any real room to judge too harshly.” Ben quirked a brow at that. “That so? Don’t tell me a pretty lil’ thing like you has baggage!” Part of him was sort of mocking her, though he was getting curious. “Moving on, I made the email for you and set up an account for you to use the phone.” She began to explain, looking over to him but finding a confused expression on his face. “E-what?” He asked plainly, green eyes gazing into her own. “Right, I forgot you have no grasp on the basics.” She turned towards him now.

“Email is pretty easy, it’s like sending letters to people—only digitally and in a much faster time period. It used to take y’know, days, weeks for those to be delivered. Now it just takes seconds—also instead of a home address you just need their email address. Does that make sense at least somewhat?” Her voice was gentle, not sarcastic or cruel. [Y/E/C] eyes meeting his green ones as he was silent for a moment. “Yeah, I guess.. I mean it seems straightforward enough—though doing that stupid shit is gonna be harder than understanding what the fuck it is.” He answered. “Well, yeah, but we’ll get there.” [Y/N] offered a half smile at him. “No one’s asking you to be Steve Jobs after a day,” she tried to encourage him but his face was blank yet again. “Who the fuck is that?” He asked, to which she sighed gently. “…never mind, it’s not important. What I meant is that none of us are expecting you to know how to use it all within the blink of an eye.” She replied before moving her gaze back to the phone. He peered over at the phone while knitting his brows together. None of it made any sense to him. Now the screen was black again, before the stupid symbol popped up. “..the fuck is it doing now?” He asked, moving his glance to her face. “It’s updating the software,” she spoke before shifting it to an analogy he’d understand. “..which is like maintenance on a car kind of—it makes sure everything’s working and also is.. replacing the parts in a sense. Fixing things that weren’t working and replacing them with things that will work and hopefully work better.” It took a second, but the analogy did help. “Makes sense I guess.” He spoke, arms crossed over his chest. His eyes watched for a moment before he became bored, so, he did what he usually did and turned his attention to whoever was occupying the space with him. “So tell me, how’d a gorgeous gal like you get tangled up with a fucker like Butcher anyhow?” She laughed softly but she didn’t look up at him this time. Mostly to hide the fact that she was blushing just a little. [Y/N] knew that she shouldn’t be feeling this way, by all accounts this man was still Soldier Boy. He wasn’t a good person, but the more she spent time with him the more she realized he was letting her see the man behind the persona and maybe.. maybe there was more than what he’s done in the past. After all she was preaching sympathy just moments prior. “Flattery will not get you out of the tech lesson, but since it’s updating you’ve got a little wiggle room.” She took a gentle breath before beginning to tell a very condensed version of events. “Becca, Butcher’s wife, she was my mom’s best friend. When my mom got killed in a car wreck, Becca sort of.. became my maternal figure.” Ben nodded, feeling some of the strings attached to his heart pulling. “I’m sorry about that, doll.” It was the least he could say. “Where the hell was your dad?” He asked, not knowing subtly if it were to bite him on the ass. She sighed gently. “Couldn’t tell you, never met him.” Ben could sympathize with that in a way, his own father being a piece of shit and all. “Sorry ‘bout that too.” He spoke, keeping his gaze on her own. She simply nodded before the phone’s screen lit up in the bright colors again, signifying that the software update had been completed. Picking the phone up, [Y/N] swiped up to begin the process of actually setting things up. “Okay, back to this-“ she spoke but was immediately cut off by Ben’s loud groaning. “Fuck sakes, is this really necessary?” He grumbled, which caused the woman next to him to roll her eyes. “You already know the answer to that.” Again he grumbled, acting like a mix between a grumpy old man and a stubborn child. “If this was forty years ago and some fine piece of ass was trying to tell me I had to do somethin’..” She turned and her [Y/E/C] eyes met his face with a pointed glare. There was a momentary pause as Ben contemplated whether or not to continue.

However, he was mischievous by nature and so he opted to continue on with his train of thought. “..I’d have grabbed her by her pretty little chin and talked her into getting on her knees so I could show her a better way to use that mouth.” [Y/N] again rolled her eyes. “Anyway,” she brushed it off and moved on immediately though Ben was wearing a little smirk. “Picturing it, aren’t ya’?” He asked, clearly attempting to make the woman flustered. She turned her gaze back towards him with a blank expression upon her face. “Picturing me, punching you in the face? Absolutely I am.” She answered, which had Ben’s smirk fall completely. “You new age women, chicks in my day would’ve been creaming their panties at the chance to get with Soldier Boy.” Ben grumbled, irritation showing on his face. It was amusing to [Y/N] that he thought he’d get her to crumble so easily. Pushing herself up into a better position she’d lean the phone towards the Supe. “Alright, so I made two emails—one has the Soldier Boy name on it, just in case there’s.. I don’t know people that have business offers or something. Granted, that’s if we all live and you don’t get thrown into jail or whatever they do to other Supes and the other is for, well, more personal shit. That’s the one I was telling you about when I mentioned it initially, the one that’s tied into everything on the phone. I downloaded some stuff but now you need to try it.” She handed the phone over to Ben, praying he wasn’t gonna break this one. It was clear that he was trying to hold it gently, which would’ve made her giggle out loud—however the man was in an overly sensitive state and she wasn’t going to push that. “Alright, so tap the icon that says ‘App Store’ and wait for it to open.” [Y/N]’s voice was gentle and Ben nodded, putting his finger over the square with that name underneath it. However he left it there and so the apps began to all shake. “What the fuck is happening?!” He exclaimed, to which she gently moved her hand and pressed the button labeled ‘done’. Now the apps went back to being still and she sighed. Gently she grabbed his index finger and lightly pulled it towards the screen again, Ben wanted to grumble but he was too distracted by how her fingers felt against his own. Where his skin was rough, battle tested and calloused.. hers was soft, maybe a scar here and there but nothing compared to his and the contrast? It was more enjoyable than he’d ever admit out loud. [Y/N] pulled his finger down toward the screen and gently tapped it against the screen to open the app. “You just gotta tap, see.” She spoke, letting go of his finger. “Huh.” He replied, but it wasn’t very loud. “Now typing on these things is probably gonna annoy you, it annoys us all and we’re used to the technology. Just.. try to not freak out and break it yeah? Shit is easy for you to snap, given y’know..” After she said that, she couldn’t help but to chuckle. When she did Ben felt himself smirking just a little. There was a split second where their eyes met and lingered, before she spoke up again. “Alright, so if you just click on this one it’ll take you to the place where you can download them. I think most things that are necessary for now are already there but I wanted you to know how to do it, so.. you like sports right?” She asked, tone kept gentle. “Uh, yeah, obviously little less on the up and up these days.” He replied, to which she nodded. “Alright well type in ‘MLB’ right there in that search bar, click it first though.” [Y/N] explained and for a moment Ben just stared at her, as if she had three heads. Eventually though he moved his gaze to the phone and tapped the screen over the search bar, which brought up the keyboard. “So.. these fucking things are called apps?” He asked, typing the three letters slowly into the bar and then she pointed to the blue button labeled ‘search’, which he tapped before looking up at her again.

“Yeah, they have one for just about everything these days.” She replied, pointing to the button that said ‘get’. Ben tapped it and the symbol to signify it was downloading appeared. Once it had finished, she smiled slightly before reaching underneath his arm for a second. “So, to close an app, you just swipe up like this.” Gently she placed her thumb on the screen and swiped upward to bring the phone back to the Home Screen. “Now, that closes it for the moment. Swiping up in a short motion brings up all the open ones like this-“ she explained, demonstrating. “Once they’re up like this you can swipe up again and fully close them.” She closed all of the currently open apps to demonstrate to him how to do it. “You really think I’m gonna remember all this shit?” He asked, almost glaring when he looked in her direction. It was a lot of information to take in, so she took a gentle breath and locked the phone. “Okay, fair, let’s take a break then.” [Y/N] placed Ben’s phone on the bed between them and slowly pulled out her own. He couldn’t help it, curiosity took hold and he glanced over. “You can put pictures on that thing?” He asked, noticing her Lock Screen photo of a drawing of the moon. Quirking a brow for a moment, she then figured out what he meant. “Oh, yeah! You can. Did you wanna do that on your phone?” Her voice was sweet as their eyes met yet again, bringing back the slight tension that continued to linger between them. “Fuck it, shit looks better than whatever the fuck it comes with.” He replied after a moment or so of silence. “Do you have anything specific you want?” She reached up with her free hand and tucked some of her [Y/H/C] hair behind her ear. Ben’s expression was pensive for a moment or so as he tried to think of anything he’d like to have as a background on the phone. “I dunno, just find something badass—none o’ that girly shit.” She shook her head before thinking herself, trying to figure out something she could use. “I’m gonna go take a leak.” He spoke up, pushing his frame up and off of the bed before grumbling about something and making his way over to the bathroom door. Once he’d closed it, she thought for another second before smiling to herself. Lifting the phone up at a decent angle, she quickly opened the camera app and primped herself slightly—snapping a couple of pictures of herself right after. Flicking through the few she found the one she liked the most and made it his Lock Screen wallpaper. Thumbs darted across the screen and within another two minutes or so, spent entirely on Google, she’d found a nice photo of Ben’s shield. It worked well for a Home Screen.

It wasn’t long after that [Y/N] heard the toilet flush and the sink turn on, seconds passing before the door was pulled open and Ben re-entered the bedroom. Lifting her gaze up to meet him, his green eyes held something she couldn’t quite pinpoint. She gently laid his phone onto the mattress and kept her attention on him while he sat back down onto the bed. “Are we doing more of this shit? ‘Cause I think my fuckin’ brain might implode.” His voice was deep, housing a distinct rasp to it. [Y/N] couldn’t help but to chuckle at the old man antics he was displaying before answering the question. “No, I think we’ll save some lessons for another day. After all, there’s much more than just the phone you’re gonna need to learn.” After she’d spoken, he groaned for what felt like the millionth time. “It’s amazing how you bounce between acting like a senior citizen and acting like a teenage boy.” Her voice held a humorous tone as she again chuckled, it was Ben’s turn to now offer her a pointed glare but there was definitely a layer of amusement behind it. Just as he was about to offer up a retort, the bedroom door was pushed open and Butcher popped his head in. “Oi [Y/N], need ya’ to come help Frenchie with a little project.” His accent was thick and his eyes held a wild expression that was pretty standard for the man. [Y/N] sighed and slowly pushed herself up from the mattress, but turned towards Ben with a gentle smile. “If you have any questions just.. come find me.” He nodded, because his brain wasn’t sure how to react to the little smile on her lips. Sure there was a lot of unholy and downright vulgar thoughts swimming around in his noggin about her, there had been since he laid eyes on her—however there was something more that lingered and that was causing a short circuit in his mind. She turned back to the Brit and groaned. “This better not be anything messy because the last time-“ she was cut off by Butcher’s laugh. “It ain’t, I swear.” [Y/N] rolled her eyes as the two left the room, closing the door behind them. After a couple of minutes Ben remembered [Y/N] lecturing him about locking the goddamned phone, but she had left it unlocked. Pushing the button he heard the clicking noise, but tapped onto the screen to make sure he hadn’t accidentally turned it off somehow—and that’s when he saw it. There underneath the time and the other bullshit, was a picture of her and her smiling face. Since he was by himself, he didn’t have his guard up and his lips curled upward into a smile. “Pretty lil’ lady.” He spoke out loud, his heart feeling something he’d not felt in quite some time.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Hi guys! I am soooooo sorry about how long this took. Between writer’s block and my fear of it sucking, I was just struggling for a while. This is my first attempt at writing for Ben so if it’s bad, I’m sorry! He’s a more complex character to nail in writing and hopefully I’ll get better at it over time. Anyway, hope you enjoyed!

• —– ٠ tag list: @roseblue373 @mrsjenniferwinchester @stillhere197 @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @aylacavebear @ladysparkles78 @globetrotter28 @jc-winchester ✤ ٠ —– • ·

#fanfic #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy imagines #the boys #the boys imagine #x yn

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thesilmarillionblog · 7 months ago

Text

A CHRISTMAS CAROL

THE BOYS: Christmas Special 🎄

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader

Summary: Along with other team members and their infants, Soldier Boy and you decide to spend Christmas at Butcher's house with your three children. He has to act nice.

Warnings: discussion of divorce, bittersweet, fluff, angst with sweet ending. everyone has children, Ben sings "Rapture".

Word Count: 4044

A/N: English is not my first language. Divider: @strangergraphics ❤️

When your oldest child, a three-year-old son, told you he had to pee, you screamed out Ben's name while you were packing your babies' luggage.

Since he had been working on mending his car since the morning and you were here trying to care for all three of your babies at once, you practically yelled out his name, “Ben!” once more in an attempt to obtain some of his help. Actually, since your first child was only three, you had no intention of having any more. Ben was the reason you became pregnant so quickly for the second time. It was almost amusing how certain he was that he hadn't come inside you that night and pulled back just in time. Almost.

Tonight, you were going to spend the Christmas with others and their babies at Butcher's house. Your son enjoyed spending time with Ryan, and you thought it would be a warm and lovely Christmas to hear all of your kids screaming and having a good time together. Additionally, you wanted Ben to interact with his grandson. It wasn't the sweetest time for them years ago. Ryan was a kind and lovely kid.

You apologized by kissing both of your babies on the forehead after they both jumped in fright at how you spoke. “Sorry, sweet little pies.”

You said, “You hold on a little more, sweetheart,” as Ben eventually entered the house and shut the door.

He asked, “What now?” as though he couldn't see how much you were struggling, which made you somewhat irate, but you were keeping your cool so as not to scare the kids. You will discuss this with him at another time. You took a deep breath to help you relax. If not, you will quickly lose your shit. But Ben's recent actions were really getting on your nerves.

Your son, who was moving constantly to avoid the obvious, exclaimed, “Daddy, pee,” as if he were going to cry.

Ben said, “Fu-, come here,” as he swiftly lifted your son, Jared, and ran to the bathroom. At last. You chuckled at Ben's encouraging remarks about how your son was doing well and had strong self-control as you saw him run to the bathroom with Jared in his arms.

“You come back!” you exclaimed in a panic as you noticed that your one-year-old daughter, Jeanna, had truly begun to run and crawl on the carpet when you removed her pants to change her diaper. She climbed down the couch, but you couldn't even see it.

She made a joyful noise when she heard your voice and paused to study your face, which made her to giggle even harder. After you stood up to grab her before she carried on crawling. You were glad she was only a half-Supe and not yet displaying any of her abilities because she crawled so swiftly. Her strength would be impossible to handle otherwise. However, you can think about getting her ready for the Super Olympics in the future.

She screamed delightfully as you took her in your arms and put her back on the couch. For her, it was just another game.

Diana, your other daughter, remained composed despite watching her twin crawl with perplexed eyes and then attentively examining her own feet. She clearly got your coolness and persuasiveness in particular. But Ben never agreed with that. When it came to expressing and reflecting her feelings, Jeanna was a lot like her father. She was emotional and found it difficult to accept rejection when Ben or you refused to give her what she demanded. Just as your son and Ben returned, you gave Ben a look that conveyed your own rage. Jared proceeded to play with his sister's cheeks, expressing his affection for them.

Ben wasn't making your day any easier, even though you wanted to make this Christmas lovely and your kids happy by spending the holiday with your friends and their kids as if you were a big family. As you struggled to care for all of your children alone, like a single mother, you felt alone lately as you watched Ben become engrossed in his job in Vought and his new car. You were on the verge of a breakdown, but you managed to hold back your coolness by concentrating on your twins.

Ben swiftly sat next to you after seeing a change in your mood and moved your face toward him, kissing you firmly as though it would make everything better.

You wanted to playfully threaten to divorce him to get on his nerves, but you kept your tongue shut since you knew Jared would feel awful and might have assumed he was acting improperly. Children did, after all, have fragile sensitivity and were vulnerable. Ben made things really hard at times, but you were being overly cautious.

You simply replied to Ben's kiss and smiled, but he sensed that something wasn't quite right. You said, “Can you help me with these, please?” before he spoke.

While you changed your girls' clothes, you ordered him to hold both of them straight. As you tried to control the tremendous emotions Ben caused, you couldn't stop kissing your twins one by one since they were so adorable in their matching little red outfits.

Ben whispered, “Look at that dress and little shiny socks,” and kissed each of them on the forehead for a few seconds while closely examining you to make sure everything was okay. Both of your daughters were bothered by his beard and pushed Ben's face away.

“All clean and nice now,” you whispered, kissing their cheeks briefly. You never stopped showing Jared the same affection and attention since you were so tuned in to his emotions. You even gave him additional kisses to let him know that he wasn't being replaced or anything.

You could already see both of your daughters playing with their toys on the carpet. Jared continued to demonstrate his limited strength by carrying Diana on the carpet and offering her his favorite toy in an attempt to entice her to play with it. Having an older super brother to keep them safe was an excellent thing.

“Hey, what's wrong?” Ben inquired as you shifted your face toward him and he drew your body closer to his. His green eyes grew anxious as he saw your practically teary ones. He immediately cleared his throat in guilt and attempted to explain himself. “The car is a little difficult these days, you know. In order to keep us from being late, I had to handle it.”

“It's not about that, Ben,” you interrupted him before he could say anything more.

“What is it about then?” He now seemed somewhat harsh, and you immediately began weeping when you saw how indifferent he was toward you despite the fact that you were giving him and your kids all of your energy. It was simply too much for you. You weren't even a Supe.

You gave him a brief glance before getting up to go to the kitchen so that neither you nor he could raise their voices and frighten Jared as he played with his sisters in such an excited manner and was enjoying himself. You didn't want to talk at this moment and ruin the day.

Ben immediately followed you into the kitchen as you began cleaning things to relieve yourself of your miserable state of mind. To your astonishment, he turned your body toward him after taking the dishes from your hand and gently setting them aside. “Come on. I didn't mean to sound that way. Let's talk it out. Why did you become upset so quickly? Don't shut me out.”

You were nearly soothed by his kind tone and the way he held you in place while massaging your back with his fingertips. You gave up trying to get rid of him and laid your arms across his wide chest instead. Recalling your divorce-related ideas, you stated sourly, “You're going to make me a widow soon.”

Ben initially got confused by what you were saying, but he quickly offered you a huge grin, confirming that he lacked the intelligence to understand what you were talking about. “Well, I'm not planning to die soon, but you may try, love.”

Instead, you remained calm and smiled miserably at him. He needed to understand that you felt alone in this marriage and didn't want to do anything by yourself anymore. “I wasn't thinking about killing you.”

His smug grin abruptly vanished, and he turned to face you in confusion.

“I am talking about divorce.”

You spoke so harshly and definitely that you could swear Ben's face turned pale. Great. He needed to know the consequences of his behavior, but even uttering that term out loud made you shudder with something you never wanted to express. You weren't sure if he truly cared about your situation because he was so preoccupied with his work and his dumb car. You only needed a bit of help.

He eventually said, “Fuck, no,” while hugging you tighter. “I can't believe you just said that word right to my face.”

Now amused by the way his face turned pale and the way his arms tightened around your waist as though you were about to abandon him, you did your best not to smile and continued to gaze at him solemnly without breaking your character. Ben was shocked to hear such things because you hadn't spoken of them before, and he knew how much you loved him. He waited for a response, but you kept quiet to avoid making him lose his mind. It might be a useful lesson.

He had confidence in himself too much.

“You're not serious, right?” he asked, affectionately caressing your neck and hair. Ben swallowed and said sternly, “Why are you bringing up such nonsense when we can discuss it? I told you that I was only taking care of the car so we wouldn't be late.”

“You make me feel lonely in this,” you muttered, observing his unexpected outburst of rage. “There are moments when I think I'm the only one attempting to help them grow up. It was fine when there was just Jared, but now that there are three, things are different.” You took a deep breath to avoid becoming angry and making this into a small fight. “What am I? A single mother?”

His ego had been bruised since he believed he was simply doing okay as a father and a husband, but his eyes instantly became softer. You felt sympathy for him since you knew precisely what he was thinking at the time, yet you put up with his actions to the point where you wounded yourself in order to keep his pride intact. Despite how much you loved each of them, what you were doing was enough for him and your children, but it was consuming your soul and drowning you with a flood of despair.

He calmly remarked, “Of course you're not alone,” and gave you a firm hug after seeing how worn out you were. “You know, I thought I was simply doing okay. But you're right. Considering that they are all newborns and that we have recently become quite crowded, I should have shown more consideration. I know. But from now on, I'll be better for you and our lovely little soldiers, okay?”

His gentle and caring comments made your heart melt. You needed him to spend a little more time with you and your children, not that you want to discourage him. Being a supe, he most likely had no idea how much energy it took to deal with them all at once.

You sighed and gave him a hug in return.

“Yes, caring for all of them at once—breastfeeding, putting them to sleep, dressing them, changing their diaper... can be truly exhausting. Without you keeping an eye on them, I can't even take a nice shower. Ben, I need you to see just how tired I am. I need more, even though I know you're trying your hardest. For me.” You continued to stroke his arms, demonstrating your love and making sure he heard your pleas without coming across as aggressive or harsh this time.

Ben kissed your forehead and continued to softly touch you because he was so moved by your words and how you still did your best to comfort him in spite of his wrongdoings. “I... keep forgetting that they are my babies and half-supes, which is obviously considerably harder to deal with. I know that. Nothing is more important than you.” With your hands between his, he muttered, caressing the top of your head while giving you his most intense and sincere glance. “I love you.”

You gave him a deep kiss and withdrew a bit. “I know.”

When you didn't use the same terms, he was offended. “Who am I? "Princess Leia?” he complained, eagerly awaiting you to say the same thing. It was easy to break his pride today.

You chuckled. “I love you too, Ben.”

“The new house rule is similar to the one you mentioned about ‘not swearing’: You will never use that word again: Divorce. Otherwise, I'll have to punish you, sweetie. Do you think that I wish to punish my children's mom? Absolutely not.” Ben picked you up with ease and put your body on the kitchen sink, which made you giggle. “So let's watch our naughty mouths,” he added in a humorous voice to lighten your mood.

“You wouldn't want to punish me,” you said, gradually lowering your hands until they touched his bulge. Ben shoved himself against your palm when he saw that his green eyes were gleaming with anticipation. Ben pushed up your skirt, and a sneer appeared on his lips. He gulped when he pulled back a little and dipped his head to see what you were wearing underneath.

He moaned, “Fuck,” and kneaded your legs firmly. “How the fuck did I not notice you were wearing this all this time?”

But as soon as you straightened your skirt, he gave you a lustful glance. You said, “I really don't want to manipulate you, but—” as you brushed his neck and played with his hair.

“Well, I'd like to be manipulated right now,” he interrupted. “Use me, take advantage of me, and brainwash me. I'm all yours.”

You were chuckling when he toyed with your skirt and gave you happy grins in a playful manner. As Jared kept your daughters occupied, you both glanced in their direction as your daughters screamed with delight in sync. Ben focused on you once again after determining that nothing was wrong. He touched your chin and made you focus on him again and look at his eyes.

“You were saying?”

“Well, don't get angry over nothing and don't cause any trouble tonight. That's all. Very easy. There is nothing that the strongest Supe Daddy cannot handle.”

“You are aware that I am a hot-tempered man? Given that we'll be spending Christmas listening to Hughie and Butcher's crap, what you want from me is pretty difficult.” Ben replied, causing you to extend your legs a bit wider as his fingers lingered on them. “What will I get in return if I behave just like you want?”

You smirked at the fact that he was always prepared even if you had a busy sexual life. However, it had been months since you felt him inside without a plastic barrier, and he was irritated when you told him to use a condom. In actuality, you were driven to discipline him for failing to pull back at the right moment a year ago.

But you loved your daughters. You were happy that they happened. It was only about Ben's confident ass refusing to acknowledge that he hadn't pulled back in time.

You smirked as you noticed him growing eager and ultimately agreed not to ask him to wear those dumb fucking plastic condoms. “Without a condom, while wearing this, all night, just you and I,” you added abruptly. He hadn't felt how you felt in such a long time, and sometimes it was becoming agonizing.

“Wait. You mean it?”

“I mean it. If you-”

“Deal,” he responded immediately, without waiting for you to complete. For a day, it wouldn't be so difficult to be fucking polite. However, he had no intention of behaving like a jerk while he was with you and his children for Christmas already.

Ben jokingly remarked, “You know what you want from me is not even that difficult. Just admit you miss the feeling of my cock, the times I fuck you raw and deep. I could probably knock you up again without even properly filling you with my cum, love.”

You slapped him across the chest and said, “Keep it low!” He kept forgetting about Jared at times. “And... I guess we'll never know.”

You grabbed him by the shirt and gave him passionate kisses till the babies interfered, your heart bursting with delight at how excited he was already and how he began telling you how good he could be.

Ben cursed out loud at Butcher for making you wait at the entrance for a short while while he was carrying all of your children in one hand and clutching the gifts in the other when you arrived at the enormous place he had rented for Christmas. All you were doing was trying to soothe him while you were carrying their luggage. When his father used the F word, Jared looked at you and laughed. He knew you didn't like it when his dad used such words around the kids.

Ben remarked, “I'm going to break this damn door down now,” and he gave you the impression that he only needed your approval.

“Then you're gonna fix it yourself!”

Ryan opened the door and greeted you like a gentleman just as Ben was going to smash it with his leg. He was such a kind boy.

Ryan used to spend his time with Jared whenever you came to visit because he was now living with Butcher. He was like a brother to Jared.

When Jared saw Ryan standing in front of him, he quickly urged Ben to release him, and Ryan grabbed him. Meanwhile, Ben continued to curse Butcher and the others; they were simply preparing the table. Children were screaming all over the house, and when they spotted your babies and Jared coming, they screamed even more because they knew their new gaming buddies were back home.

“Hey,” you said, setting the bags next to the couch. You then took the gifts Ben was holding and put them beneath the Christmas tree and gave Annie and Kimiko a brief hug.

Ben put your twins on the carpet and said, “I swear I'm gonna break that damn door on your head one day,” as your twins became excited upon seeing other infants and tried to get rid of their father's tight hold.

When he stated, “You all play nicely, alright?” Ben surprised you by lightly touching Hughie's one-year-old daughter's head. You didn't make any remarks about Ben's small, sweet gestures to make him feel shy. He didn't need to try being polite sometimes. He was more sensitive since he became a father. Something had changed in him.

Butcher grinned and remarked, “Are you kissing your babies with that mouth? There were just three of you last Christmas,” as he glanced at your twins. “Look at how crowded you are right now. What are you? A rabbit family in heat?”

Ben, sitting on the couch, laughed at his remark. “What can I do? I shoot my shot well.”

“Yeah? When Hughie's little boy grows up and starts making moves on one of your daughters, I'll see you then. You'll all get along well as relatives, won't you, Annie?”

“Say that shit again?”

Butcher's smile grew when he realized he had hit a sweet spot to get Ben's nerves.

When Ben suddenly became unreasonably frustrated, you sat next to him, and you kicked his leg. While Annie, MM, and Frenchie set the table, you watched Hughie use a milk bottle to feed his son. You were touched by his dedication and his constant smile.

Your head began to throb from the sounds they made as Ryan and MM's daughter assisted Jaden and others in playing games, but it was a pleasurable ache.

It was beautifully snowing outside as the hours went by while you were seated at the table, deep in conversation. Ben was eating turkey like he was starving and was talking about how difficult it was to be a father and how war and fighting superheroes were much easier than anything else because fathering required so much contemplation. You didn't hurt his pride and interrupt, but you and Annie exchanged glances and rolled your eyes when Hughie agreed with him, and they spoke as though they were the ones who gave birth.

Your heads turned back when you heard a guitar sound. While his sisters were destroying the strings together, Jared was playing with it. Jared was behaving like a professional and had a humorous look on his face. Then he stood up and touched his father's legs while carrying the guitar.

“Hey, where did you find this?” Ben asked when Jared instructed him to take it.

“Can you play this?” Without waiting for Ben's response, Frenchie requested and promptly stated the names of the French songs he wanted Ben to sing.

Ben put the guitar and Jared on his lap as he became filled with enthusiasm. “Of course I can.” To feel like he was the one playing, Jared placed his tiny hand on his father's big ones. He looked at you and smiled shyly to see if his mom was proud of him. You blew a kiss to him and smiled.

Ben began singing his well-known song ‘Rapture’, and you had to control your laughter to keep from embarrassing him. You had to think negative stuff to avoid ruining his and Jared's mood because of how serious his face was and how he was acting like a pop star at the time. Jared wasn't any different.

Since everyone was trying their hardest not to crack up when you looked at their faces, Jared and Ben were the only ones on the clouds there.

Butcher was tearing up as Ben said the ‘Rapture’ line because he was unable to contain himself any longer as he laughed out loud.

Ben gave Jared the guitar, instructing him to play like him for his sisters and younger buddies to show how talented he was, and when Jared ran to his sisters and buddies, he stated, “I'm gonna break this on your damn head,” giving Butcher a stern look.

You told him, “Don't be a dick, Butcher,” and rested your chin on Ben's shoulders. “Baby, you did perfectly. I had no idea you were such a good guitarist, you played so well.”

Ben was proud of your compliment and forgot about Butcher. He winked at you and remarked, “I'm good at playing with many things,” as if to remind you of your little arrangement.

“There are already enough babies. Because of these random sperms, I am going to become mute, I’m telling you.”

As she held the baby on her lap, Kimiko gave him the middle finger and made Annie's son do the same gesture with his tiny fingers. When Annie's son made a happy sound, as though she knew what was happening, Kimiko was grinning broadly. Butcher claimed that Kimiko's nasty demeanor would spoil Annie's son, but Frenchie told him to shut the fuck up. Ben was feeling better when he saw everyone opposed to Butcher.

As the night went by, you all talked about wonderful memories while simultaneously handling your babies. The house was filled with your babies' happy screams as the snow poured outside, providing you with the ideal setting for the start of the new year. Your back was pressed against Ben's warm chest as his powerful and gentle hands caressed your arms. Remembering how he sung his own carol, Rapture, with such a solemn tone and face, made you smile uncontrollably.

A/N: I'm not proud of this work, but I hope you like it. :/ I'll be better, I promise...

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