#but how I see this is that it's just fantasy

[artdcnaldson]

in the sex lessons au, reader was definitely introduced to porn by patrick. i bet he also gave her massages that “required” her to take off her shirt and bra and always ended up with his hands on her nipple….

Rating: E (18+)

Warnings: SMUT (mutual masturbation, exhibitionism kinda, more manipulative perverts but that’s par for the course)

A/N: how did you know I eat this up. I wrote a 3 part Steve Harrington fic with this exact plot like…. This is my bread and butter simply. Unedited sozz

It was easy to succumb to temptation when it was just the three of you— holed up in Art’s dorm, hidden away from the rest of the world.

A few cans of beer, cold from his mini fridge, the warm press of your legs on top of Patrick’s, of Art’s chest against your back. There’s a movie playing on Art’s laptop— some shitty action movie he’d rented for the three of you.

“Have you ever watched porn?” Patrick asks you bluntly.

Your eyes widen in surprise. “What? No— websites like that give you computer viruses, and stuff.” Art laughs, his body shaking with it. You suppose it is a little childish, but you’re being completely earnest. “What? Doesn’t it?”

Patrick laughs, shakes his head. “If that were true I would’ve gone through a thousand computers by now.”

You grimace, toss an empty beer can at him. “You’re so fucking gross.”

But Patrick just laughs, takes another swig of his beer, leans forward curiously. “So… I mean, do you just use your imagination when you’re touching yourself?”

Heat burns in your cheeks, and you roll your eyes. “Shut up.”

“Well, how do you know what you need to imagine if you’ve never seen anyone fucking? Is it just sweet kisses and hand holding?”

You kick him and Art comes to your defense like the sweetest knight in shining armor. “C’mon, Patrick, leave her alone.” Art’s hand is splayed across your tummy— firm, warm, protective. Patrick pretends like he doesn’t hear him, leans closer.

“I wanna know what innocent little fantasies you get off to. I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” It’s hard to resist Patrick when he’s so close, when Art’s so close, when you feel warm and dizzy all over.

You sigh softly, relishing as he presses his warm body against your side, so it’s Patrick and Art and you sandwiched hot between them. “You realize you’re being a major fucking perv, right?” You ask in a low tone, meeting his gaze through your lashes. He nods, and you’re so conscious of his hand between your knees as his eyes bear into yours. But he wants you to continue, so you swallow and go on. “I dunno, sometimes it’s not about a fantasy. It’s just about me wanting some stress relief, or, like, my body needing it and it’s too hard to ignore.”

Art’s fingers flex against your stomach and you take a slow breath. “But, I mean, I guess I fantasize about being desired, like, taken care of I guess,” you mumble, mortified that you’re admitting it.

Patrick grins, runs his thumb along the inside of your knee. “That’s so sweet.” You roll your eyes, take a long drink, and try to ignore the heat in your stomach. “Do you want to see what Art likes to watch?”

Art’s eyes go wide, and he shakes his head. “No, no, we’re not doing that,” he says firmly. Patrick brushes him off, ignoring his pleas as he grabs the laptop and pulls up his trusty porn site. You peer over Patrick’s shoulder, eyes going wide as he opens to the home page, to all the recommended videos.

Your jaw drops, just a bit, and you let your eyes rake over the screen. It’s all right there— flagrant. Pretty girls with dicks in their mouths, pussies, hands. Lewd titles, the preview videos playing brief glimpses of obscenity.

“Aww, Art, this is so adorable,” Patrick teases as he scrolls. “Girl best friend deepthroats like a champ. Morning lovemaking ends in creampie.” Art mumbles something against your shoulder, blushing so hard you can feel the heat emanating from his skin.

Patrick clicks the latter and it opens to slow, deep kissing. A mess of tongues, rife with need. You know it’s normal to watch, to an extent— a right of passage, or whatever. But watching it feels so voyeuristic, so invasive. Especially when you’re practically in Art’s lap, when Patrick’s hands are hot against your skin.

Patrick gets bored of soft kissing and wandering hands and skips five minutes ahead in the video. By the time the buffering catches up, they’re fucking onscreen, all slow and sweet. Still kissing, still holding hands. But you also see the way the man’s cock sinks into her, can hear the moaning, the wet sounds of her body taking him in.

Art exhales a shaky breath against your skin, makes you shiver. He’s hard, you can feel that clearly against you, and you know he’s provably fucking mortified over it. But he doesn’t move to turn off the video, doesn’t do anything. His hand twitches against your stomach and you realize he’s still holding you.

The video is short— too short, you decide. The man finishes, you get a close up of the woman’s pussy, of cum dripping from her entrance. It makes your face burn, makes desire burn equally as hot as your embarrassment. The video ends, and Patrick stops auto play.

“Art, that shit is so fucking boring.” It snaps your attention from the paused screen over to him, who seems completely unaffected. You might actually believe he was unaffected if he wasn’t visibly hard.

You peer over at Patrick curiously. “What do you watch?”

He smiles, like he’d been waiting for you to ask, and grabs the laptop. Art makes a weak complaint that Patrick is going to fuck up his recommendations, but is ignored. Patrick logs in to an account and opens a tab for liked and saved videos.

Oh. You lean forward for a better look, expression twisting between shock and interest and confusion and disgust. Patrick’s tastes vary widely— venturing into areas you hadn’t even known were sexual. It’s like he had thrown everything at the wall to see what would stick, and everything just stuck.

“Oh my god, Patrick,” Art mutters, equally as intrigued as you are. “What the fuck, dude.” Art steals the laptop, scrolling through thumbnails of feet and anal and gangbangs and piss and bdsm dungeons and girls in stupid fucking schoolgirl costumes.

Patrick grabs the laptop back roughly, scrolls and clicks. “This one’s good, it’s perfect for when you just want to cum fast. Art, I know you don’t have that problem.”

Art flips him off and looks at the screen, reading the title aloud. “One hour squirting and cumshot compilation. Could you be any grosser?”

“Yes, actually. Sorry I don’t watch your sweet lovemaking bullshit.” Patrick shoves him, then Art shoves him back, and suddenly the laptop is on the floor in front of you and you’re just watching while they squabble on either side of you.

The video is exactly as described— it skips all of the pretense, all of the build up. It’s just people cumming, over and over and over. Your body feels like a live wire as you watch, lit up all over.

You squeeze your thighs together, conscious of the heat and wetness between them. Patrick clocks it— of course he does. A smirk plays at his lips.

“Maybe it’s not so disgusting, Art. She likes it.” Patrick relishes in the hazy, innocent look in your eyes as you meet his gaze. Relishes in the embarrassment and the need. “It’s good, huh? Getting to watch?”

You nod and Patrick takes your hand, slips it beneath the waistband of your shorts. “Go ahead. You want to.”

You shiver, temptation itching down to your fingertips. Sensing your hesitation, Patrick spits into his hand, slips it into his own shorts. You manage to hold out a few more seconds before you let your fingers brush over your clit.

“C’mon Art, don’t be a fucking creep,” Patrick says, moaning as he works his fist faster. Art swears under his breath and quickly shoves his own hand into his boxers.

You’re all so close, bodies pressed together hot and firm. You can feel the way their bodies move with each stroke, the way their thighs tense as they instinctually buck into their fists.

You moan, head falling against Art’s shoulder. His hand splays against you, inches up, brushing against the underside of your tit. It makes you whimper.

Patrick grabs your face, redirects your attention back to the screen. “Keep watching, it’s getting good.” His voice is strained, affected.

He usually lasts longer than this when he’s in your hand or your mouth, but maybe the video really was that good. Surely it didn’t have anything to do with you, panting and writhing as you rubbed at your clit beside him.

For once, Patrick cums first— doubling over, groaning muffled into your hair. Then it’s Art, whining so pretty, pulling you closer, mouthing at your shoulder as he comes down. And then you, overwhelmed by the two boys on either side of you, cumming with a rush of wetness that ruins your already soaked panties.

You sit there panting as the video continues playing— obscene wet, lewd sounds, wanton moans. Art hits stop, shuts the laptop and kicks it away.

You wonder why every time you hang out with them, it always seemed to end like this. And you wonder why you don’t mind, not even a little bit.

[flowerandblood]

Play with my heart (1/3)

[ modern actors • Aemond x Strong • female ]

[ warnings: kissing, sexual tension, unprofessional behavior ]

[ description: He gets the main role in a series about a great family and dragons, which could change his career. He is set to play the uncle and love interest of his childhood friend. When he meets the actress who plays her role, he begins to lose track of what is an acting and what is his real feelings. Sexual tension, grumpy, withdrawn, thirsty Aemond. ]

Author’s note: Yeah. I talked about it and I did it. You don't even know how much fun I had doing this. Of course, my characters play in a series whose script is an exact copy of my story The Fall from the Heavens. In this universe, Aemond (playing the One-Eyed Prince) and Rhaenys (playing the Princess) are of course not related – the other characters are also just actors. This three-part series is my gift to all fans of the original series, thank you so much for your support. "Rhaenys" in this story is her artistic pseudonym which she use instead of her real name. In this chapter you will see her Instagram photos without any face reveal, just treat it like some moodboard of her modern look. You can read this as a standalone story.

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

Despite his resistance, his grandfather said this series could be his big chance. Because what's the likelihood of a big production looking for a tall actor with a scar over his left eye?

The white line running from his eyebrow to his cheek was a reminder of when his nephew smashed a bottle next to him, the shards of which shot upwards as he leaned over it. He lost the sight in that eye at the time, but got a new artificial one that looked almost identical to the real one.

"The director became interested in you when I described your appearance and character to him. It's a leading role, Aemond." His grandfather continued, clearly excited. He, however, felt only discomfort at his words.

"It's a fantasy series. Dragons, gowns and knights. Romance, on top of that, between an uncle and a niece. I don't know. It's…" He started and didn't finish, running his hand over his face.

It sounded idiotic and he felt he would have made a fool of himself in front of millions of viewers who would forever remember him in the role of the cripple prince in an incestuous relationship.

"At least read the script." His grandfather didn't give up and placed a thick volume of stapled white pages in front of him.

Resigned, he spread himself comfortably on the sofa in his flat in the evening and began to read. He pressed his lips together when he saw that it all started with a flashback – the characters of the prince and his niece were still children at the time and were to be played by younger actors.

There was no cloying or exaggerated sweetness in the story or dialogues that he had expected. What surprised him was the moment when his character lost his eye and the fact that he decided not to speak to his betrothed for eight years.

He thought it was a bit of an overreaction, but perhaps in those days men approached their honour in this way.

Then he got to the scenes where their adult characters appeared and their first scene when they see each other in the courtyard. He imagined what was happening as if he was watching a film, them, throwing glances full of pain at each other, and him, unable to bear it, attacking his opponent in rage.

To his surprise, the next scene, the scene in his chamber turned into a love scene that made him hot – and then, just when he thought the rest of the plot would be a soap opera, his character suddenly became aggressive and cold again, destroying everything they had managed to accomplish.

He thought curiously that he liked how complicated and unpredictable the Prince's character was, how hard he tried to suppress the feelings he felt for this girl, how confident he was at the same time, with so many complexes and hatreds inside him.

He was intrigued.

He decided he would go for an audition and to his surprise, the next day he received a call that the director had decided he was perfect for the part.

He got the lead role in the series.

His grandfather, as his agent, contacted the production and it turned out that they wanted to rehearse scenes between him and the actresses who would play the Princess. He was to appear in the studio in a setting specially prepared for this, which would resemble the Prince's chamber.

They were to portray the scene in which his niece comes to the Prince's chamber on the evening they see each other for the first time in eight years.

There were no wigs or costumes prepared yet, so he was given something of a substitute, a simple leather tunic and boots, and a black eye patch that had been designed specifically for his character earlier and was already finished.

The lights were turned off, leaving only the lamps for illumination and the candles and fire lit all around. He looked towards the fireplace, fiddling with the knife between his fingers, recognising that this would add an air of unease to the scene.

"Action!" The director shouted, and the door opened. He looked to the side and spotted a tall, black-haired girl. Her lips curved in pain at the sight of him, as if she was suffering greatly, but he thought in the back of his mind that her facial expression was exaggerated.

"Did you received my letters?" She asked in a trembling voice, looking at him with her chin raised high.

This was not how he imagined her, but he decided to focus on his role, rolling the knife between his fingers.

"Yes." He replied coldly and dispassionately.

The girl swallowed hard.

"Have you read them?"

"Cut! They see each other for the first time in eight years. They feel anger, fear, disbelief! Give me something more than theatrical indifference and tears." The director called out, making both him and the girl in front of him swallow hard, embarrassed.

"Action!"

It seemed to him that it went on forever. Girls similar to themselves went in and out, and he repeated the same line over and over again, feeling nothing.

He was in character as much as he could, taking his role very seriously, trying to identify with it, but he couldn't bring up the feelings he was supposed to have for this girl who, after all, was supposed to be the love of his life.

He sighed heavily, adjusting the eye patch over his eye when the director said that there was another rehearsal ahead of them. He nodded his head to let him know that he was ready.

"Action!"

The door opened, but the girl who stood in it looked at him for a moment with big eyes, as if she didn't recognise him. There was something endearing in that gaze. She turned behind her, as if she was afraid of being seen, and immediately closed the door, breathing loudly.

At last, real acting.

She turned towards him, as if she was afraid of him, and he pressed his lips together, involuntarily looking at her body hidden only beneath a thin nightgown, her slightly wavy, long dark hair falling freely over her shoulders.

Her face was gentle, warm, her eyes large, her lashes and eyebrows dark, accentuating her charm.

She was silent for a moment, her lips trembling, as if she wanted to say something but couldn't.

"Did you received my letters?"She muttered softly in a hopeful voice, from which he felt goosebumps pass along his back.

"Yes." He whispered, his voice soft and low.

Yes, he thought, give me something I can work with.

She swallowed loudly and clenched her hands into fists, shifting from foot to foot. She shook her head, her eyebrows arched in pain as if asking how he could do this to her.

"Have you read them?" She asked, and he pressed his lips together, tilting his head back and snorted under his breath, turning the blade in his hand. She jumped up, horrified when he slammed it suddenly into the armrest lying beneath his hand.

"Yes, my Lady Strong. I have read them all. Many times, here, in this chair." He murmured mockingly, looking at her with slightly parted lips, lifting his chin in a gesture of superiority.

He was sure the director would interrupt, but he let them continue.

The girl lowered her gaze, her body quivering as if she was about to cry, an expression of humiliation, pain and shame on her face from which he felt heat in his heart.

Her gaze suddenly changed. She swallowed hard, as if she had also swallowed his insult, and moved ahead of him, pretending to walk towards the bookshelf.

He pressed his lips together and looked at her over his shoulder, measuring her with a furious, cold stare.

"Do you often visit men like this?"

She turned to him with a look as if she wanted to kill him, her hand dropping as if she had run out of strength after what she had heard.

"Have you no shame?" She asked coolly, the way she said it, the look in her eyes made him feel a cold sweat on his back.

"Cut! That was fantastic, thank you!" Said the director, and she blinked, the expression on her face turning from cold and disgusted to a wide smile full of joy, her gaze warm and welcoming.

"– you were amazing – I had goosebumps –" She whispered as she walked past him and giggled, waving goodbye to him, disappearing out the door a moment later.

When it turned out a few days later that she had got the role, he breathed a sigh of relief. The director had told him in a phone conversation that he could feel the kind of tension on camera that he expected from their characters and that this was it.

He was ashamed to admit it, but he agreed with him.

She was good and pulled the most subtle, intriguing expressions from her face with ease.

Although he didn't usually do this and resented his grandfather for forcing him to create an official instargam account, which was almost dead anyway, he used it to find her. At first he thought Rhaenys was her name, but then the producent told him it was her stage pseudonym.

He did not know what he thought of this, finding that it was an approach to acting that he was not fond of, but he decided not to judge her hastily, being a very private and withdrawn person himself.

Finding her turned out to be child's play, and he felt like a voyeur, scrolling through all her posts on her wall one by one, wanting to get a sense of who he would be working with, or at least that's how he tried to explain this unnatural curiosity to himself.

He snorted involuntarily in amusement upon seeing her Pikachu shirt, thinking with a kind of admiration that she had a distance to herself that he lacked.

She apparently wasn't afraid of harsh judgement from the outside world, of someone saying she was childish or immature, retaining a kind of innocence he hadn't seen in any actress in a long time.

Usually, like him, they created themselves, how they wanted to be perceived, making from their characters a style under which everything else was adjusted.

He felt a strange kind of satisfaction that he couldn't explain when he didn't see her in any of the photos with any man in an embrace or position that might indicate that she had a boyfriend.

He thought this would make it easier for him to get into character and not feel remorseful – although of course it was only his job – that he was touching someone else's girlfriend.

Although he was not convinced about this project at first, he was now beginning to feel excited at the thought that this really could open the door to his career.

All the way up to the start of shooting, he had been preparing himself to actually get into the character mentally, reading the script again and again, trying to understand Prince's character, unintentionally identifying with him more and more.

With his pain, his shame, his longing, his despair, his unfounded, cold, calculating irony and aggression.

While not everyone applauded the method acting, he felt the need to understand the character he was playing, to get inside his head, to become him in some way, to properly portray his emotions.

He and his grandfather flew to the hotel a few days before shooting to acclimatise, attend rehearsals and costume fittings. He met the actor, Aegon, who would play his brother-king, and Jace, who would play the Princess's older brother, and although he was an aloof man, he quickly found common ground with them.

Looking at the size and number of sets, the scenery created especially for one or two scenes, he felt the grand scale of the whole project and thought with excitement that he would be a fool if he refused.

When the make-up artists and stylists applied the wig on his head, his leather tunic, his breeches and his eye patch they said he was made for this role. When he glanced at himself in the mirror, he found in disbelief that he really did look like a different person and he liked what he saw.

He looked dark, menacing, malicious.

Just as he had imagined.

They met formally for the first time at, much to his liking, a session with a woman who he understood was a psychologist and was supposed to take care of them when it came to approaching intimate scenes and their comfort zone.

They shook hands with polite smiles in a way that was a tad too official, but there was something heartfelt and warm in her expression and her bright eyes that made him feel a pleasant sensation in his chest.

He tried not to grin as he saw her wearing a Pikachu t-shirt, the exact same one she wore in one of her photos on Instagram.

The woman invited them with a hand gesture to sit across from her on the couch as she sat on the other side, in an armchair.

"As I understand it, you have both read the script and your director's suggestions and know that there will be scenes involving you touching your naked bodies or exposing yourself in front of each other." She said calmly and they nodded their heads.

"Okay. I'll start by asking if you have any questions or concerns." She continued, but they were silent.

"I will be with you during every scene of this type, offering you advice and support. You have the right to say if you feel uncomfortable, if you are made to feel bad by a certain type of touch and you don't want to repeat the scene in the same way. The director wants you both to feel safe here." She added, and they nodded their heads.

"Do you have any barriers, things you're sure you don't want the other party to do? Touch in places that you find unacceptable?" She asked, and he remained silent, but looked at his partner out of the corner of his eye, curious.

He saw that she pressed her lips together, as if she wanted to say something but was afraid to. She swallowed quietly at last, fiddling with the material of her black tracksuit shorts.

"– I – let's just say I'm not experienced in this kind of scenes – it's hard to say where my comfort limit is – what should I do if, for example, we're in the middle of filming and I feel unwell? –" She asked uncertainly, looking at her with her big, bright eyes.

The woman nodded.

"– of course, you should then stop the filming – it would be a good idea if you just agreed between you beforehand what you plan to do, where you plan to touch each other – this will help you to prepare in advance for what is going to happen, to say what causes your concerns –" She replied calmly.

The girl smiled and let out a quiet breath, as if something in her answer had reassured her.

He saw her for the second time during a party at the hotel that the series' production organized for them, so they could get to know each other better and relax before the first day of shooting.

Like him, she was dressed plain, in long mid-thigh length, fluffy sweatshirt and woollen cream, overknee socks, while he, as usual, was dressed all in black.

She approached him to greet him for a certain out of sheer courtesy, he however appreciated her professional demeanour. When she asked if she could sit with him and the people from production he involuntarily moved over on the sofa, making room next to himself, which she accepted with a smile.

He watched her out of the corner of his eye while chatting to the set crew all evening, a few drinks were enough for him to loosen his tongue a little and start talking like a normal person.

He furrowed his eyebrows, feeling the whisky already humming heavily in his head when he saw her get up from the table and go to the toilet, leaving her half-finished drink with them.

He figured he'd wait with his assessment of the situation until she returned, but to his dismay, surely enhanced by the alcohol, he acted rather dramatically, pushing the glass away from her as soon as she sat back down next to him and tried to reach for it.

"Never leave your drinks with strangers in this business. Always take them with you." He said as if he were her older brother or father.

She blinked, horrified and ashamed, clearly not even thinking that anyone among the people around her might want to hurt her, but he knew this environment better than she did.

Seeing the look on her face, he pressed his lips together.

"Believe me. I heard this kind of stories. They put pills in your drink, tell you they'll help you back to your hotel room when you start to feel worse, and the next day on set they tell you that if you say anything to anyone, you can go back where you came from."

They stared at each other for a moment in uncomfortable silence and although the people around them were laughing, she seemed to be experiencing some sort of shock.

"Do...do you know such women personally?" She mumbled, and he shook his head, playing with his glass between his fingers.

"No, thank God. But I've heard hundreds of stories like that. I'm not trying to scare you, I'm just trying to warn you. For your safety." He added, feeling for some reason like an idiot who was now lecturing and moralising her.

She nodded quickly, however, her gaze filled with a warmth and understanding that made his chest hot, though he blamed the whisky he'd drunk for his condition.

"Yes, you are right, I should be more careful. I'm glad I'll be working with someone like you." She confessed with a kind of embarrassment that surprised him, playing with the material of her woollen knee-length socks.

He looked at her, spread out comfortably on the leather sofa, realising that there was so little room at the table that their knees were pressed against each other.

When she said she would go to sleep, for some reason he offered to walk her to her room. She smiled broadly at his words and they set off together for the lift, exchanging quiet, non-committal remarks on the way.

There was something about her demeanour that made him feel at ease, her gentleness, openness and the alcohol humming in his head made him more daring when it came to spoken words.

"You made a great impression on me during the auditions." He hummed and she looked up at him, her eyes shining with joy.

"You don't even know how much these words mean to me. You were wonderful, convincing and charismatic. I hope I won't disappoint you." She said.

"Mmm." He hummed and flinched as the elevator doors slid open on the floor where their rooms were located. They walked out into the hall in silence, the warm look in her eyes that she gave him over her shoulder made him feel hot.

"– see you tomorrow –" She said and he nodded.

"– sleep well –"

The first scene they were to play, although it was only in the fifth episode, was when they returned to her chamber after speaking with her stepfather following negotiations about the succession to the throne.

Their dialogue was about what they really thought regarding what had happened in the past – this scene did not contain intimate moments and was meant to help them get into their characters well.

She walked into the room, which was also a large medieval chamber immersed completely in darkness and smiled at the sight of him. He nodded his head in greeting.

She approached him, all beaming with happiness and excitement, a nightgown on her body and a thin robe thrown over her shoulders.

"You look amazing. Wonderful characterisation." She said softly with a sincere cordiality from which he felt warmth in his heart.

"Thank you." He replied calmly, not knowing what more he could answer.

"I am the one who wants to thank you. For what you said yesterday. I guess I needed to hear this." She said, giving him a warm look full of gratitude that made him feel relieved.

"Forgive me if I was too harsh." He whispered.

"You were not." She said calmly.

He nodded and grunted, swallowing heavily, being sober having problems again with putting his thoughts into words.

They looked up at the director who ordered that they were about to go to the first shot where they were lying on the bed, so they took their places next to each other on the sheets.

He felt the stress gripping his body, the tension at the thought that there were dozens of people around them looking at them and judging him.

He had been given this role with ease and now he had to prove himself.

"Action!"

He shuddered as he felt her hand on his and looked up at her – her face was frighteningly close to his, pleasantly smooth and soft, a warmth in her gaze from which he ran out of words.

"Speak to me, uncle. Don’t lock yourself in your mind." She whispered to him, as if these words were meant only for him, as if she really cared about him, missed him, loved him.

He looked at her with his heart pounding fast, thinking with horror that he had forgotten his line.

"– I will –" She whispered.

He swallowed hard and closed his eyelids, trying to turn his fear into an expression of regret and rage on his face.

"I will never understand how could you leave me then." He hissed through clenched teeth, looking at her again, pain in her gaze, as if his words had really surprised and hurt her.

"– that was never my intention –"

"– then why? –"

"My mother then told me to let you rest and calm down. That the guards wouldn’t let me visit you anyway by order of the Queen."

He snorted, looking at her with both disbelief and frustration. He blinked, smelling her pleasant scent, and realised that, just like in the script, she must have rubbed her skin with some vanilla oil.

He looked at her lips, pink, soft and full, and for a moment he forgot again what he should say next.

What was happening to him?

"It doesn’t matter." He muttered finally. "I needed you when it happened."

He saw her furrow her brow, her lips tightened in pain.

"I needed you too." She said in a trembling voice. "When Criston Cole held my cheeks as your mother’s guards poured moon tea down my throat. I wondered at the time if that’s how you felt."

He was impressed to see real emotion in her gaze – pain, grief, shame, fear. He didn't know why he lifted his hand and touched her cheek – he thought it was idiotic, but she followed it up and grasped his fingers in hers, kissing gently the inside of his palm.

He cursed in his head feeling his manhood pulsed softly in his breeches.

He put his arm around her waist and snuggled her into his chest as scripted – her hands embraced him, her face pressed against the hollow of her neck.

He seemed to feel her puffy little nipples through the fabric of his shirt before the director shouted ‘cut!’.

They pulled away from each other, looking up at him, rising on their elbows.

"– I liked it, but I would change the ending – I know it's not in the script, but the moment when he touches her cheek begs for a soft, tender, innocent kiss – can we try it that way? –" He asked, and they nodded and grunted, embarrassed.

She returned to her earlier position, trying again to bring to her face the same sadness, pain and grief he had seen seconds before.

"I needed you too." She said in pain. "When Criston Cole held my cheeks as your mother’s guards poured moon tea down my throat. I wondered at the time if that’s how you felt."

He looked at her for a moment with a gaze full of regret and touched her cheek again, running his thumb over her jaw. She kissed his hand as gently as before, cuddling her face into his rough skin, closing her eyes. She sighed quietly as he drew her closer to his face, her warm breath enveloping his skin before his fingers weaved into her hair, forcing her to lean down.

They clung to each other in a slow, shy kiss with the quiet click of their saliva, her plump, fleshy lips tasted of some sweet strawberry lipstick, deliciously soft, warm and wet, their breaths shaky and excited.

It seemed to him that time stood still; her touch was tender and full of peace but also the certainty of her affection, her soft fingers gently trailing over his jaw and cheek, caressing him as if she wanted to give him a sense of security.

Something about her closeness reassured him, and his broad hand stroked her head as if she were a small child, brushing gently her lower lip with his own, a quiet, shy sigh left her mouth.

He swallowed loudly, terrified as he felt his manhood swell and throb at the sound, at her closeness, at her taste, craving more.

They finally pulled away, her forehead pressed against his temple as his knuckles ran over her warm, soft cheek, something in her gaze he couldn't name.

"Cut! I loved this!" Their director called to them and they let out a loud sigh of relief, as if they had accomplished something very significant. His partner smiled at him.

"Everything's all right?" He asked, somehow condescending towards her, afraid she wouldn't tell him she felt uncomfortable even if she did.

She blinked, surprised by his question, and leaned over him as the crew discussed with each other whether they wanted to change anything in the shot.

"Why are you asking?" She asked lightly, curious, as if she didn't understand what he meant.

There was something intimate about how close her face was, her pleasant scent filling his lungs.

"We didn't talk about this before the scene. You know." He replied, not knowing what else to call what he was thinking about. Her eyes widened as if what he said scared her.

"– oh – no, no – I feel fine – but it's very kind of you to ask –" She whispered warmly, laying her head next to his on the pillow, pressing her forehead to his temple.

"– I feel safe with you –" She said softly into his ear, her words intended only for him.

He swallowed loudly at the thought that this could be a huge mistake on her part.

[poppy-metal]

are we rocking with art stealing panties that you bled thru while on your period (i am on my period duh) and using them to jerk off because that’s we he can smell you the best from a distance… now that i mention it are we rocking with smell kink art?? it’s always smelly patrick (which i adore) but what about art who moans like a slut when YOU fucking smell like sweat and pussy and blood and sweet musk. who doesn’t let you shower or shave or anything before he eats your pussy, taking every salty morsel into his mouth. who forced your arm up by pinning your wrist down and sticks his face into your arm pit while fucking you from behind, curving his entire body into you so he can inhale your heady musk. god. you beg him to stop because it’s embarrassing (you don’t actually want him to, but you feel like you have to. for anyone to be this into any part of you is so intoxicating), but luckily he doesn’t listen, instead licks your arm pit and holds you harder and wider open as his cock drills deep inside your pussy, the smell of sex and sweat and musk permeation the room in a mingling haze

too gross??? maybe. i apologise. no i dont. i’m crazy but i am free

the divide of loving patrick when HES stinky and art loving when YOU'RE stinky..... yesssss.....

not to be tmi but you know how when you have a FAT JUICY pussy and its wet during the day and that white fluid is on your panties? like pussy cream. can be a panty ruiner fr if its too much - but art loves that shit. the first time he tugged your panties down and you were worried about it because it'd been a particularly gushy day and hes just like "i dont care. everything about you is sexy to me-" and if you dont believe him, you will when he pushes his nose into the seam of your panties where your cunt was all day, right where you'd leaked and he moans into it. the musk of you - the salty taste - he'll jerk off with your used panties pressed against his face if you let him.

and period sex..... he dont care !!!!! hes secretly disgusting because he gets excited about it. like visibly leaking from his tip - at the thought of sinking inside your slick bloody cunt. wants to fuck his fingers in and out and spread it all around your outer lips and clit. loves how fucking wet it makes his cock when he fucks you - disgusting freak begs you to push his cum out when hes done so he can see the pink of his spunk gush out of you mixed with your blood.

he'll suck your toes like. sweaty pussy is his favorite meal. one of his biggest fantasies is you sitting on his face after you go to the gym - just letting him yank your yoga pants down and lowering yourself down against him so hes smothered in your ass. wants to rub his tongue all over your asshole and your sweating pussy until he can barely breathe, he'd keep going till he passes out, even.

the armpit thing...... my head will spin. just continuing to pound into your pussy while he drags his tongue in the crevice of your arm where most of your sweat is - whining his name but he just holds you down and licks up your arm, all the way to the tips of your fingers which he promptly sucks into his mouth too. its like he wants to consume you.

[dante-mightdie]

I need more toxic!price, I need to cry. Like cry cry 😭

how about toxic!price where you finally build up the courage to ask what you two actually are before you leave his flat one night. his shoulders slump and a quiet sigh leaves his mouth, you apparently don’t see that reaction and he decides he doesn’t want a confrontation or to deal with you crying. with his rejection so he just gives you vague answers that he knows your delusion will turn into fantasy

sends you off with a little smile on your face, waiting until you’re in your cab and away from his home to delete and block your number :)

[entirelysein-e]

『 Sins of the flesh 』

☼ synopsis: You catch your roommate Choso getting off with his little silicone fleshlight and decide to help him get off, indulging in his sinful fantasies of a threesome with the help of his toy.

☼ character: Choso

☼ wc: 2.2k

☼ cw: fem!reader, afab!reader, dom!leaning reader, Choso getting caught, mutual masturbation, cum eating, cunnilingus, sex toys (fleshlight), mentions of sex

☼ notes: so uhm this happened 🫣 totally not self indulgent as always- I would never | don't forget to sign up for the taglist! | requests are open!

Having Choso as your roommate was the best thing that could have happened to you. That man was almost nonexistent while you were home, next to your shared dinner and movie night on Fridays - A thing you started since you found out you both enjoy the same genre of movies. Otherwise, he was as quiet as a mouse, never bothering you or taking up too much space. The shared living room was always kept tidy, although his room was a pure mess, but he would never make his chaotic habits a problem you'd have to sort out.

When your work day ended earlier than usual, you made it your first priority to let your mouse of a roommate know, texting him a simple “coming home early! :)” a habit both of you grew used to, just to let the other know to take private things into your own rooms. The moment you entered the shared apartment, the lights were out and it made you a little suspicious. He should be preparing dinner already; perhaps he just forgot it was his turn this Friday?

As you made your way towards your room, you casually walked past Choso’s room since just the small hallway stood between your rooms, doors across from each other. A small whimper made you stop dead in your tracks, almost alarming every molecule in your body for a potential threat. Your head snapped towards the noise - Choso’s room - just when another noise came through the crack of the door. The heat rose up your cheeks, the tips of your ears suddenly became hot to the touch when you heard the way he just moaned your name. It wasn't a pained moan, your body letting down its guard upon hearing how pleased he sounded and you should be repulsed. You should loudly announce your early arrival and stare him down when he comes crawling out of his room, but you didn't. Instead, you leaned against the doorframe, trying to spy through the smallest crack in the door, to see him lying sprawled out on his bed, one hand holding onto the pillow beneath his head as the other fisted tightly around the fleshlight he used to pump his own cock.

The sight made your thighs clench and you started to imagine how hot it would be to ride him, how pretty he would look beneath you and how cute his whines could get when you made him cum. “Ngh yes! Just like that,” he whispered and his brows knit together when his hips started to meet the movement of his hand. Perhaps you could slowly push open the door and get a better view of this breathtaking scene to fulfill your own perverted fantasies?

Just as you wanted to put your hand against the door to grant you a better view, the shift of weight made the floor creak beneath your foot and Choso ripped the blanket over his body, covering the shameful act of getting off to the thoughts of his roommate.

“Hello?” He called out, cheeks burning bright red and you simply knocked against his door, trying not to act obvious - like you didn't just watch him masturbate like a little creep.

“I’m home early. Can I come in?” You ask through the almost closed door in front of you and you hear the fabric of his blanket shifting.

“Uh… yeah, I just got out of the shower." Choso lied, trying to excuse his lack of clothes as you opened the door. His hair was dry, of course and he cursed himself for that excuse - why would he go hide in bed naked after a shower?

You glanced around awkwardly, avoiding to look at Choso, who had the blanket up to his chest, his face sticky with sweat and a few stray strands stuck to his blushy skin as he avoided your gaze as well.

“I texted you that I'm home early so you could already co-” *thud* You stopped talking mid-sentence as the rather loud thud cut you off, both pairs of eyes snapping to the source of sound - and there it was in all glory: A slicked-up silicone fleshlight.

Both of you were unsure about what to say or do, your eyes glued to the toy until yours suddenly darted around the room, looking everywhere but the toy as you cleared your throat.

Choso wished to be swallowed whole by the ground, to disappear in a box of shame upon getting caught like that. He shouldn't have allowed you in, told you he's changing and now he's in this unbearable situation.

“I- I didn't know you were… busy,” you lied to break the uncomfortable silence, but your eyes kept flicking back to the silicone pussy on the floor, glistening in the soft light as the lube that was running out of it slowly pooled beneath it. It took a while for Choso to muster up the courage to speak again, the bed creaking when he sat up to reach for his toy.

“I'm so sorry… I didn't mean for you to… see,” he mumbled ashamed, unable to let his eyes wander towards you as the toy disappeared under the blanket again, but you shook your hand and wiped off the sweat that formed on your hands.

“Can I help you? Can I please you with it?” Your voice almost cracked, but you were sure of it, wanting to indulge in your fantasies if he'd allow it. “I heard you moan my name,” you continued, simply pointing out the fact to let him know that you're aware of what he was thinking about.

To everyone's surprise, Choso gulped and his Adam's apple bobbed visibly, the soft fabric of his blanket slowly sliding down his chest when he stopped clutching it tightly. “You don't have to… but I wouldn't say no to you,” he confirmed verbally, not expecting you to indulge in his sinful acts, but gods - he craved your touch. He couldn't stop imagining how soft your hands would feel against his skin, how your skin would be glowing when you're riding him, or how sweet your kisses would taste after you came around his manhood.

With legs like jelly, you walked over to his bed and the man simply leaned forward to capture your lips in an almost innocent kiss. Both of your insecurities were felt, but things quickly escalated when you slowly pulled back the covers to touch his skin. Your fingers raked over his chest down to the little happy trail and back up to his chest, where you teased his sensitive nipples. A small whimper escaped his lips, which gave you a chance to slip your tongue into his mouth.

When you parted from the kiss after what felt like a small eternity, a small string of saliva connected your lips and eager hands peeled the covers back further. Your eyes went from his down his body, eventually resting on his cock, which almost let you gasp in awe of how well endowed your roommate really was. With a firm grasp, you take ahold of the fleshlight that rested next to his thigh and your other hand grabbed the base of his cock, your eyes looking for any signs of hesitation.

“Please,” Choso begged, his voice barely above a whisper when you grabbed his cock, the anticipation of the pleasure you'd bring eating him alive. Your eyes were fixated on his when you moved to straddle his lower legs, your lips coming closer to the tip of his cock but leaving just as quickly after you simply spat on it, the fleshlight engulfing him seconds later. The sight was one to behold, his dark eyes rolling back as his jaw slowly went slack to let out the softest moan known to mankind and one of his hands flew up to grab ahold of the pillow again. Seeing Choso so lost in pleasure turned you on beyond belief, wishing you switched places with this shitty piece of silicone you used to fuck him instead. The lewd, squelching sounds filled the room alongside Choso's breathless moans and you simply couldn't bring yourself to look away, moving the fleshlight just slightly faster.

Choso was chasing after his high when you picked up the pace, his hips meeting the thrusts of your hand since he was so close when you made your presence known.

“Are you gonna cum for me like a good boy?” You asked sweetly, the grip on the silicone toy tightened to help him reach his peak faster. You wouldn't edge him - at least not this time.

The man beneath you could only nod helplessly at your words, his moans and ragged breath made answering quite hard, but you didn’t expect him to moan your name this lewd when he spilled the seed into the fleshlight, hips sloppily thrusting into it when you slowed down to not overstimulate him.

“What a waste,” you mumbled more to yourself upon pulling the toy off of him, his cock already growing soft, but he heard your words, unsure if you meant that he was disappointing. His brows furrowed together, but your next move made his cock twitch and grow hard once again.

Without letting a drop go to waste, you brought the silicone cunt up to your lips and put your tongue out to catch the cum that slowly drizzled out. The first drop hit your wet muscle and you whimpered, the hot, salty liquid resting on your tongue before swallowing it down. “Get off with it. Rub your pussy with it,” Choso ordered with a hoarse voice. He didn't want to be selfish, you deserved to find pleasure with the very same toy and he didn't care if it was filled with his own cum, he'd paint your walls white any day if you'd only ask him for it.

Wondering if you just heard him correctly, you processed the words in your head before nodding in such a needy way before shedding your clothes in record speed. You should be ashamed to sit on your roommate's bed with your legs spread wide while you rub his cum-filled fleshlight over your glistening cunt, the silicone clit nudging yours just the right way. Yet the shame never came, perhaps it was drawn out by the overwhelming pleasure you felt upon smearing the cum all over your already wet folds, humping the pussy-shaped silicone like a bitch in heat while Choso palmed himself to the view.

“You're so fucking hot,” he mumbled out, moving his hand to cover yours and rubbing the toy against you now to help you get off just like you helped him.

Nodding your head as it fell back, you started grinding your hips a little harder. A small stain of your own arousal mixed with his seed started to stain the sheets, but neither of you cared, minds hazy as you got each other off.

“Need to have two fucking- need to have one on my face and another riding me." Choso moaned his fantasies out, dreaming of having two women use him for their pleasure and it was enough to send you over the edge, whining desperately when he moved the fleshlight against your sensitive clit faster to prolong your orgasm until you pushed him away, thighs closing out of instinct and it made you chuckle softly.

“You couldn't even handle two women.” Your words sounded teasing, but perhaps you can start preparing him for it.

The man barely heard your words, his fist working faster over his cock to reach a second orgasm. Only your hand pushing him down onto the bed ripped him out of his own thoughts and before he could ask what you're doing, your dripping wet cunt was right above his face as you straddled his head.

“W-what?” He asked slightly confused, wondering if you'd want to take this further than just mutual masturbation and his tongue darted out to wet his lips.

“You wanted two pussies, got a real one and a silicone one here, so go ahead,” you said smug, a grin tugging on the corner of your lips when you reached for the lube on his nightstand and squeezed a generous amount over the fleshlight before wrapping it around his cock for a second time tonight.

Choso's mouth fell open once again, his cock was so sensitive, but he needed this, needed you. He needed you so badly that he didn't even mind his own cum coating your folds as his tongue started dragging through them in a lazy zigzag motion before his lips wrapped around your bundle of nerves to suckle on it ever so gently.

“That's my good boy. Make me cum before you do and I'll let you finish in my cunt,” you moaned out when his tongue eagerly flicked over your clit upon hearing your offer. Of course you wouldn't make it easy for him, the fleshlight gliding over his dick faster with each stroke and it took everything in Choso not to release, needing to feel your pretty pussy milking him. Perhaps he should have let you catch him sooner.

[thehmn]

So I immediately deleted my last post because I could tell people didn’t really get my point. Some seemed to think I was saying all fictional bdsm and power play is problematic and all I can say to that is you clearly don’t know me, and others seemed to think I was saying no good bdsm fiction exists and were giving me recommendations or telling me that only queer bdsm is good, but I have a collection of stories so I know they can be good, even the straight ones. I am however only into Dom woman/sub guy so none of the most popular books are my thing and I know how to dig deeper.

The videos I like to watch where people tear bad dark romance stories apart are about books that are badly written. Think Fifty Shades of Grey where the plot makes zero sense and people change their minds on a dime or are upset about the strangest things which makes the whole thing seem less like a dark fantasy and more like a bad understanding of humans and their relationships.

What I was getting at is, most low-effort trash straight dark romances in the west all seem to default to Dom guy/sub woman so I was surprised to see so many low-effort trash straight reverse harem games from the east having equal numbers of dominant and submissive guys for the female protagonists to pick from.

Even the most mass produced low-effort games still catered to a wider variety of power fantasies than what I’ve seen in the west, and it made me wonder if there are a lot of badly written dark fantasy romance books for dominant women in the west that people just doesn’t pick up on because it’s a man being beaten with a belt by his female captor, or if there’s a cultural difference that means there’s more of a marked for women who want to explore dominant fantasies in the East which is why even the trashiest trash try to cater to them.

[wh0rrorb4by]

big brother - kuroo

tw: stepcest but take it however u want lol, naive reader, virginity loss, dubcon(?), umm i need big bro kuroo in my life

18+

ugh. thinking about kuroo as your older (step) bro and how annoying he’d be. constantly making fun of your height, eating the last of everything in the house (even when you wrote your name on it!), hogging the bathroom in the morning or waltzing in while you’re either in the shower or only half-dressed. he literally has no boundaries with you!

he reads your diary and holds it over your head when you demand he give it back, making you jump and paw at him for it. and if you don’t give him a kiss on the cheek he’ll read it. it’s so embarrassing! he doesn’t need to know about your fantasies, or how it makes you giddy when his friend bokuto playfully puts his arm around you and calls you affectionate nicknames — especially baby sis. God, kuroo never let you live that one down. you thought your face was going to catch on fire when he pinched your cheeks and asked if you got excited when he called you that, too. it was humiliating, and you swore he placed a ban on bokuto coming within 20 feet of you after that.

he’s such a clingy big brother, too. always hugging and grabbing at you, making you sit on his lap so he can squeeze you, holding you down and tickling you until you’re squirming and squealing — and he won’t stop that unless you give him a kiss on the lips. it’s so annoying. and he’s always coming into your room in the middle of the night to “check on you,” but really it’s just so he can crash in your bed and keep you close to him all night. he caught you by surprise the first time he did it, walking in to see you whining and humping your pillow like you were in heat. you’d never been so embarrassed in your entire life. you started crying, thinking he was going to tease you like he always does, but he only let out a breathy chuckle and told you it was okay, that it was normal. he even told you that it was hot, that guys love little virgins who get themselves off so cutely, and asked why you even bothered with a pillow when he was just across the hall.

that’s when you started to realize that even though he’s annoying, he really is a nice big brother. you couldn’t imagine any other brother letting his little sister tag along with him to everything, or letting you cry in his arms when you were all worked up and just couldn’t cum on your own. it broke his heart when you told him you think you’re just defective, that you’ll never be able to please a guy if you can’t even please yourself. you guessed he just felt bad for you when you cried, that he really had a soft spot for his little sister, because he offered to teach you how to touch yourself. you were grateful to have such a smart big brother, too, because after just looking at your hands he found that the problem was that your fingers are just too small! you need big, long fingers to really make you feel good. better yet, you need a long, thick cock to really give you a good orgasm — and who better to guide you through your first time than your big brother, who’d taken care of you your whole life? you were nervous to accept at first, but he eased your little mind by telling you that only bad brothers leave their baby sisters all needy and empty and insecure about still being a virgin, and besides, he’d take better care of you than anyone else could. and he was so right — you were shaking and whining and cumming all over your sheets by the time he bottomed out inside you and taught you the proper way to rub your little clit. kissing with tongue really helped you get more into it, too.

by the time he fucked you open enough to really start thrusting, you were all dizzy and dumb and wondering why you didn’t come to him earlier. and when he was whispering praise in your ear and sucking marks into your neck and filling you up with his warm cum, all you could think about was how grateful you were to have such a good big brother.

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

You Call It Madness But I Call It Love

Chapter 18: First Impressions Are Often Correct

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy.  This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter eighteen of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Word Count: 11.6K

Warnings: I'm going to rate this one 18+ just to be on the safe side. :) References to sex, Cursing, Angst, Mentions of Death, Blood, Gore, Possessive Soldier Boy, Protective Soldier Boy, Soft Soldier Boy, Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, completely a little OOC. Soldier Boy is really all you need as a warning.

Note: This is told from the Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. Reader is described as "curvy" occasionally. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

A/N: I'm so sorry, I know this has been a long time coming. I work hard, but writer's block works harder tbh.

********************************************************

It had to be herogasm. You think to yourself with an audible groan looking up at the mid-century house from your position in the tree-line while watching the couples on the back porch writhe against one another.

The three hour drive from your apartment to Vermont had been uneventful and quiet. Every once in a while Ben would whisper something to you and you would half answer, but only because your mind was somewhere else or rather on someone else.

It was on Rosemary. She had stopped trying to text you or call you, and the silence was worse. You had no idea what she was going to do or what she was thinking. It was a miracle that she hadn’t shown up to your apartment and kicked down the front door before you left. You knew she was angry about the whole situation. And the sooner you dealt with the twins the sooner you could go see her.

Of course you still had no idea how you were going to bring up the conversation with Ben and you knew that there was no way he would let you just leave with no explanation to go talk to her.

This is why I hate texting. I should have just gone to see her, I shouldn’t have told her that Ben was back in a text, if anything that's a three drink minimum. Hell, she's probably half way through a second bottle of wine by now. Something that you also had considered several times today. Guess sobriety is going out the window. Shocker.

Ben kept asking you what was wrong, sensing your discomfort on the drive and held your hand tightly between the two of you, but you only shook your head whenever he asked. He thought that you were having second thoughts of going after the twins, but that was the one thing you were sure of. They deserved to pay for what they did, all of your team did. Anger rises beneath your skin like a roaring crowd when you think of all the years Ben spent alone in Russia being tortured and experimented on. Years that you could have stopped if only you'd known, years that he could never get back, memories that wouldn't fade in the next decade or two, and memories that you hoped you could replace by making him feel loved, by holding him close, and allowing yourself to forget the memories that still plagued you when you thought about the past.

But you still didn't know how the hell you were going to tell him about Rosemary. Every moment it felt like the words were going to vomit out of your mouth, but you clamped your jaw shut. You didn’t want to talk about Rosemary in front of Butcher and Hughie, didn’t want to tell Ben like that. What you needed to say about Rosemary and Lou didn’t deserve to be shouted at him or said in haste, you wanted to sit Ben down and tell him, give him time to adjust to the idea. Because you had no idea how he was going to react to the news that he was a dad and a grandfather.

Would he pull away again? Would he run? Would he leave me? Those thoughts kept swirling around your mind like a mixtape. You were scared that by telling him about her would make him go cold like he did the moment you told him you loved him. You remembered the distant look that replaced his smile as soon as you had uttered those three little words.

Little but not simple. Three little words that launched ships and started a hundred wars. Three little words with the power to create and the power to destroy. Three words that Ben had said to you more times than you could count since he came back to you, and three words you wished you never stopped hearing him say, the three words you always wanted him to say to you.

If Ben pushed you away now, you knew that you wouldn't survive it this time, knew that there was no going back. Which made you more fearful about Rosemary's reaction to Ben coming back into your life.

You were afraid that Rosemary would give you an ultimatum and make you choose between her and Lou or Ben. You really hoped that it didn’t come to that. You had just gotten Ben back and you didn’t want to have to pick between him and your family.

Because Ben is family too. You knew that deep down in your bones, even after everything that happened, Ben was your family. He was the only person who knew you inside and out, the only man you’d ever loved and the only person who understood you. You couldn’t turn your back on him and you didn’t want to shut him out. Not when you loved him more than life itself.

Your frown deepens as you continue to watch the people on the back porch while your supe hearing picks up the moans and sounds of the couples inside and the subtle thump of music, new pop songs that you didn't understand and didn't try. You were up with the times, but it didn't mean you had to like what was happening or the new music being produced no matter how hard Rosemary tried to get you to listen to it.

You sigh again, trying to drown out the sounds by focusing on the wind moving through the trees and the birds flitting through the branches overhead, but it wasn’t working. The beautiful day was already ruined by the loud and messy sounds from the inside of the house. 

“Always wanted to bring you to one of these Sweetheart.” Ben glances over at you with a cheeky grin, lowering the binoculars from his eyes, but then he notes your frown. “Then again-“ His hand comes around your waist to pull you into him. “That means I would have had to share you with someone else, and I’d much rather have you all to myself.”

 You can feel his smirk against your ear, but it does little ease your anxiety about Rosemary and the looming conversation you were going to have with Ben when this was over.

Hughie had disappeared a few moments ago to scout out the inside and to find the twins, while Butcher was doing a walk of the perimeter, leaving you and Ben to wait for the all clear. A welcome break, because every few minutes Hughie would play with a Geiger counter and the high pitched creak-like squeak was giving you a headache. Not to mention annoying you. You'd only been able to have a few sips of your coffee this morning after Butcher and Hughie burst into you apartment, but at least your anxiety was picking up the slack.

Because of course it was.

The house in front of you looked innocent enough on the outside, big windows light wood,  but now that you were here, you really didn’t want to go inside. Despite wanting to face the twins, you didn’t want to go inside and be reminded of the one reason why you stayed away from Herogasm.

At least today we aren’t attending it as much as crashing it.

“Why do you think I hated going to Herogasm?” You murmur, frown deepening at you continue to stare at the house.  The memories of the past had an ugly way of crashing down on you and despite not wanting to make Ben feel guilty, keeping them to yourself made you feel worse. Plus you figured he knew when you were lying, because Ben was basically a human lie detector when it came to you.

Ben sighs, his warm breath washing over the side of your face as his arm tightens around your waist to secure you to him. “Sweetheart please look at me.” His voice is comforting, filled with emotion, but you still don't look at him.

“What?” You whisper, mind still a million miles away.

His fingertips come under your chin to turn your face to his. Ben’s green eyes lock with yours, soft and apologetic, familiar in the best way and weird given the fact that he was wearing his uniform. You’d never seen him look so sorry when he was dressed up as Soldier Boy.

“I would have killed any man who tried to touch you, especially after the night we shared together. When Vogelbaum danced with you I wanted to rip his arms off.”  His eyes darken.

You remembered the way he watched Vogelbaum and you dance together at the premiere with the cameras flashing in your eyes, but then the image of Countess plastered to his hip arises. The way she ran her hands up his chest, the way he turned his gaze away from you to stare at her.

“Yes, but see I never killed any woman that touched you-“

Double standard much?

“Well-“

“Countess doesn’t count.” You snap.

Ben’s thumb strokes along your jaw, before his expression softens again. “I’m sorry.”

“You’ve apologized-“ You sigh, suddenly guilty. You hadn't meant to snap at him like that, you were on edge because of Rosemary, not because of what Ben did in the past. You were already starting to forgive him for what he did.

“Not for this.” He takes in a deep breath before he pulls you closer to him. “I’m sorry that I made you think I didn’t want you. Because I do. I don't want anyone else, haven't ever wanted anyone else like I want you. I was so stupid. I fucked those other women because I couldn’t handle how I felt about you and I didn’t think that you would ever want me even a fraction of how much I want you-“

“More.” You whisper before you can stop yourself, laying your hand against the front of his suit.

“That is impossible.” Ben smiles faintly.

You toy with the material, plucking it between your fingers. “It’s okay. I understand why you did it. But it was hard to watch you with them.” You try to fight the image of him and Countess again, that is quickly followed by the memories of the many women over the years you’d see Ben with in public and of course the memory of the first and only Herogasm you ever went to, the one you left early because you couldn’t bear to see Ben with anyone else. The same one that you swore you saw Ben watching you just as closely when Noir tried to reach out for you and you walked away.

It’s different now. You think to yourself. Ben said that he’s wanted me this whole time and I believe him. I don’t think he would lie about something like that, not to mention he’s been more open about what he’s feeling.

“I know.” Ben continues to stroke along your jaw. “But I promise it won’t happen ever again.”

“I believe you.” You lock your arms around the back of his neck to hold him closer to you, loving the way his body felt wrapped around you, like he was molded just for you.

“Good.” He leans his forehead against yours for a moment. "Can I kiss you yet?" Ben's words are quiet, barely above a whisper, so low that you know if you didn't have super hearing you'd have missed them.

"You've never been a patient man. In all the years I've known you." You breathe with a smile.

"Maybe I've just never met someone worth waiting for." Ben's nose nudges into the space between you faces, waiting for you to tell him it's okay and you want to. "But you are Sweetheart."

"You've waited forty years."

"You waited longer."

His words make a ball of emotion lodge in the back of your throat, because it meant Ben listened. He heard everything you said to him and he wasn't going to forget, he was going to make this up to you.

It was hard to say no to him, not when he was smiling at you and gazing at you the way you'd always wished him to.

"We both know I'm a bit more patient than you."

"Maybe."

"You know, maybe we should be focusing on something else right now." You smirk, still keeping your lips just as hairsbreadth away from his.

“It's hard to focus on anything else, not when you’re wearing something like that.” Ben purrs, thumbs brushing against you hips in a way that makes your chest tight.

Your smirk deepens “Oh this old thing?”

At the last minute you had chosen to wear the outfit you had picked when you thought you were going to be going to Russia to get Ben, rather than your old supe suit. You didn’t want to be connected with the person you were then, and despite Ben’s want to hold on to Soldier Boy, you were more than happy to let Indigo go.

The outfit was working better than you thought. The tight black tactical pants, combat boots, black leather jacket, and long sleeved leather corseted blouse that was sinched at your waist all perfectly accentuated the curves that your mother tried to hide. When you had walked out of your closet wearing it, Ben’s entire body had gone rigid.

“What?” You’d asked him with an innocent smile standing just a few steps outside your closet, while watching the tension in his shoulders.

“Damn it sweetheart you’re making this hard.” He had responded, clenching his hands into fists at his sides to hold himself back from crossing your bedroom to touch you. It made you smile wider to understand that he was trying to respect the boundaries you made between the two of you.

“What is it that I’m making hard Benjamin?”

“Fuck. Don’t tease me. Nobody likes a tease.”

You’d smirked at him. “Sorry babe you walked right into that one.”

“It’s not fair-“ Ben had growled.

“What’s not fair?”

“You wearing that, biting your fucking lip like that-“

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He’d stalked towards you, eyes dark, causing you to back up until your back hit your pale bedroom wall. His hand had landed next to your head, the other wound around your hip so you could feel the heat of his skin through your clothes.

“You know, two can play at that game Sweetheart.” Ben had murmured, easing his face so close to yours that you could feel his breath against your lips.

“And what game is that?” You’d said it trying to keep your composure, but the dark look in his eyes and the smell of his shampoo was everywhere. Your heart beat had given you away, thudding violently in your chest as if it wanted to break free. It was hard to ignore how much you still wanted him after all these years.

"You know exactly what game." Ben had held your gaze, raising an eyebrow as a confident smirk pulled at his lips. He could hear your heartbeat too, probably could smell how much you wanted him. “But you’re so fucking beautiful I'll let it slide.”

“Huh?” It had been the last thing you thought he was going to say. If anything you’d thought he was going to tease you.

The hand that had been previously on the wall near your head dropped onto your face to gently trace the arch of your brow and the dip of your bottom lip.

“You always have been. I thought I remembered wrong but-" His expression shifted from the seductive smirk into something softer. "Fuck I missed you." Ben had leaned his forehead against yours. "So tease me all you want. I'll wait, because you're worth every second."

Remembering what he said earlier still filled you with an incredible amount of love and made you want to kiss him all the more now. Knowing that he was willing to wait for you to be okay with whatever came next made you fall harder for him. But now you knew that you needed to focus on what you were about to do. And standing here in front of the house, listening to what was going on inside made you sober up, just a little bit…. But not completely.

"Then again I thought those overalls were pretty sexy too." Ben states, staring down at you with a wide smile as the mid-afternoon sun turned his hair into a light brown and found the flecks of gold in his eyes. He looked every bit as handsome as you were accustomed to, so much in fact that it made your heart ache.

"Sure." You roll your eyes. "I think you're the first person in history to say that." Your fingers lightly curl into the strands at the back of his head.

"Maybe. Or maybe you're just the sexiest woman in history."

"Shut up."

Ben's gaze darkens. "Make me, Sweetheart."

Every viable thought except the thought of crashing your lips to his vanishes.

I wonder if they're as soft as I remember. If he still makes that sound when I-

"You two ready?" Butcher interrupts appearing just over Ben's shoulder, but smirking when he sees how close the two of you are. "Or do you love birds need a little alone  time?"

You roll your eyes and let go of Ben's hair, as he loosens his grip on your hips. Stepping back away from him was like having a bucket of cold water drop over you, you missed him and yet he was standing a full sixteen inches away from you.

This is really not good.

"You have the worst fucking timing." Ben moves to pick up his shield, but the playful smirk he'd had a few seconds ago has been replaced with a frown.

You wondered if he was as disappointed as you were.

The wind shifts and you can smell the Temp V in Butcher's veins, hear the steady beat of his heart as it pumps blood through his body, strengthening him, making him feel indestructible. When Butcher and Hughie had injected it at the back of Butcher's car, you couldn't help but be reminded of the day you took V. You had been afraid and when they injected it, you remember the pain, the unspeakable pain that made you scream so loud that Ben heard you from the room he was being kept in, and he broke through the wall to get to you. It was how the scientists learned that Ben had super strength, because he had smashed through solid rock to make sure you were okay.

Butcher shrugs and begins to walk through the trees towards the side door of the house, leaving you and Ben alone.

"You didn't answer my question." He hefts his shield up with a smirk.

He didn't have to explain, you knew he was asking about the kiss. "I'll take a raincheck."

"Hmm." Ben takes a few steps towards the house, before he stops to look back at you. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Huh?"

"In the car, even now. You're kinda quiet." He shrugs.

"I-" You were going to say that you were fine, but you knew that he would clock the lie. "We need to talk about something, but it can wait. This is important too."

Ben's frown deepens, but then he finally sighs. "Alright. Come on you’re lagging behind doll."

"Guess you changed your mind about wanting me here." You snort as you catch up to him.

Ben puts his hand on your wrist, turning you to look at him. "I always want you with me." His hand trails up your arm to finally rest under your chin. Ben smiles, leaning down towards you, but before you can arch up into him, he presses a kiss to your forehead. "I love you." He murmurs into the top of your head.

"I love you too."

And with that, you both follow Butcher into the house hosting the worst event in all of history.

************************************************

I should have brought ear plugs. You cringe as you follow behind Ben and Butcher, weaving through the lower levels of the house. Maybe someone will let me borrow their blindfold. Hopefully there are nose plugs somewhere… well there have been other kinds of plugs but those are a bit big for my nose.

You walk down the staircase after Ben and Butcher who pulled ahead a few moments ago and as you do the sharp sour smell of a chemical wafts in your face, different than the other odors in the house.

What is that?

You round the corner and see Ben up ahead, shrouded in smoke, staring down an attractive muscular black man who for some reason has decided to raise his fists to challenge Ben. Your eyes trace the man's face, recognition pulling at your heart. You knew who he was. The first time you'd seen him he'd only been a boy, made eye contact with you at a funeral you couldn't help but go to, after Ben made a mistake. You'd offered the boy an encouraging smile and left the boy's family an envelope of cash in their mailbox because you couldn't think of anything else to do for them. You knew it couldn't replace who they lost, but you didn't know what else to do. Ben had been upset with himself after, he always was when he lost control. He showed up on your doorstep like he always did, drunk, high, smelling like stale perfume, and fell asleep in your bed after you reassured him the same way you always did.

Now that little boy was grown up and standing in front of you. You see recognition flash in his eyes as he sees you. Of course it does. You didn't look any different and you hadn't worn your supe suit when you went to the funeral.

"Not him." Butcher says to Ben, but Ben doesn't look away from the man.

"Ben." You whisper, reaching out to touch his arm gently.

Ben's eyes flick to yours. The look in Ben's eyes is familiar, predatory, unwilling to back down from a fight. Soldier Boy. You'd seen it countless times before, talked him out of killing people in the past. You hated how quickly you had to slip into your old job, the one that made you feel like a babysitter, but you shake it off.

"He doesn't know what he's doing. Come on. The Twins are upstairs, I can hear them arguing." It was true, you could, but you didn't want this to turn ugly so quickly. Not when the real reason why you were here were currently arguing about toilet cameras. 

His jaw tightens, eyes sliding to the man standing at the other end of the room, before he nods once and motions for you to go ahead of him.

As you continue to move through the house, you fight the shudder that threatens to travel down your spine when you think of how Ben looked moments ago. It was the first time you had seen Soldier Boy since Ben showed up again, and it was the same way you remembered it. You just hoped deep down that Ben really did want to change and that he was adopting the façade of Soldier Boy to get through what came next. You knew that you were going to have to adopt one as well.

"Here." You stop just before the two of you round the corner where the Twins were in the other room. "Let me go first. They might not try to run if I go in before you."

Ben frowns. "I don't want you to-"

"I know, but it'll be better this way."

"Fine."

You walk around the wall and towards the circular room where the Twins are fighting, ignoring the couples on the outskirts that are grinding against one another.

Like Countess, the Twins didn't look good, both were considerably older, rounder, grayer, and more wrinkly than the last time you'd seen them, but they were still the same. Still arguing and still just as annoying as they had been forty years ago.

"I never want to see you again!" Tommy spits at his sister, adjusting the golden robe slung over his shoulders that flaps around him like a cape.

"Oh sure!" Tessa sniffs while puffing on a joint. "Our Westfield mall appearance is next week and nobody is going to come see you without me!"

That must suck to have your powers depend on someone else.

"Wow, mall appearances? Aren't we all getting a bit old for that?" You flash a winning smile as you step down into the room, locking eyes with Tessa.

Both of the twins visibly pale, their hearts speeding up to work overtime, as the stench of adrenaline begins to waft through the air between you. It's almost comical how identical their reactions are to Countess' at seeing you for the first time in forty years. Then again you hoped that you looked better than they did.

Why didn't I try to find out more after Ben "died?" If our entire team had this reaction to seeing me then I would have known the truth and Ben wouldn't have been in a fucking Russian Lab all these years!

Their plan to ensure you not being in Nicaragua had paid off, because not only were you not there, you didn't want anything to do with any of them. And you wished that you had confronted them all those years ago. You knew that you'd live with that guilt for a long time, but now you allowed your anger at what they all did to Ben, overpower it.

"Y/n-" Tessa stutters.

It was weird to see her at a loss for words. You and all of Payback had listened to her nag Tommy since the moment they joined the team. Judging by what you had walked into, you figured that she hadn't changed at all.

"Hey long time no see!" Tommy fakes enthusiasm while licking his lips nervously, eyes darting to the open doors behind you. You could practically see the escape plan forming in his mind.

"You know, when I found out you guys were living in Vermont I was surprised. I would have thought that you moved down South. They’re probably more accepting of your relationship.” You make air quotes around the word relationship, before shifting your smile into an worried frown. “Oh sorry, are the two of you still pretending that you’re not fucking?”

Tessa’s gaze turns stone cold. “What the fuck do you want?”

“I was in the neighborhood, thought I’d check in.” You look around the room. “You guys have a nice house. Must have budgeted better than Countess did. Her tailer, now that was a shit hole. Must not have done as many mall appearances.”

Tommy’s heart skips a beat at the mention of Countess’s name. “Look y/n-“

“Please. We didn’t have anything against you. We didn’t come after you. Even after all these years we left you alone.” Fear seeps into Tessa’s voice with her plea, eyes wide with worry.

They had reason to be worried, you’d all but admitted to killing Countess.

“Oh sweetie.” You with false sweetness in your tone. “It’s cute that you think you can beg for mercy. That you're deserving of it.” The room begins to shake with the force of your anger as your eyes shift to bright purple. Cracks like thin spiderwebs stretch through the wide windows behind them and through the thick drywall as you lose control, the composure you always held on to drowning in the flood of emotion you feel when you look at the two of them. “Ben told me exactly what happened that day-“

“He lied to you!” Tommy exclaims. “He went crazy! You know how he gets, how he loses control!”

“He lost control and we had to protect ourselves y/n-“ Tessa adds, another lie.

Ben steps into the room beside you, his eyes are focused on the Twins, and if you thought they looked afraid when you showed up, they look near dead when Ben appears.

"You were saying?" You raise an eyebrow.

"Ben! Hey Buddy!." Tommy forces another smile but pales when he realizes Ben just heard him and Tessa try to lie to you. "How are you? Long time. We were just talking to y/n about-“

Ben's eyes narrow, stopping whatever Tommy was going to say about you.

"Nicaragua wasn't our fault!" Tommy says to recover. "Neither was the premiere." His eyes dart to yours, cowering under the purple light that pulses from your irises.

Wow. Just. Wow.

"We swear." Tessa adds.

"Why should we believe you?" You spit.

"Please-"

"Then whose fault was it?" Ben's frown deepens, hand tightening on the shield.

None of the other couples have stopped what they are doing, too enthralled in one another to notice what was going to unfold between the four of you.

"It was Noir!" Tommy shouts desperately, his eyes flitting from Ben to you as if trying to see which one of you will believe him. "He gave Ben to the Russians."

It's almost pathetic watching his mad scramble to protect himself. Apart of you hates that you don't feel guilty for any of this, at least with Countess at the beginning you felt some guilt for hurting her, but with them there was nothing. Not even the prick of remorse, there was only anger.

Ben chuckles under his breath. "We all know that Noir didn't even take a shit without Vought's say so."

"Not to mention his head was so far up Stan's ass it's a wonder that he could breathe." You narrow your eyes at the two of them waiting for them to make a move. They might be cowards, but if you knew the Twins well enough, you knew that they weren't above throwing a bolt of lighting in your direction. And you knew for a fact that electrocution wasn't fun.

"It's the truth!" Tessa shouts above the moans and wet squelch of the people around you. “Please y/n we have children.”

“You're really the worst liar hon. Always have been." You snap, listening to her heartbeat jolt in her chest as she attempts to save herself.

"Please talk Ben out of this, just like you did for Noir-“ Tommy's plea falls on deaf ears, but you knew what he was talking about. The day that you saved Noir's life because he started a fight with Ben over a stupid role in a movie. But this was different, no part of you wanted to save them from this, to save them from what they deserved.

“Noir will get what’s coming to him.” You don't recognize your own voice. "You brought this on yourselves."

But then something shifts in the air, call it a feeling, or an energy current, but something feels wrong.

The music coming from the radio has changed to a Russian pop song, why it's playing you have no idea, all you know is that it does something to Ben.

The sound of his shield hitting the ground rings in your ears and you turn to look at him. His entire body is tensed beneath his suit, sweat dotting along his hairline, red beginning to creep into his cheeks. His eyes are squeezed shut and he shakes his head as if he's trying to clear it.

"Ben? Are you okay?" Your hold on the room vanishes, eyes fading back to their normal color as your worry turns to Ben.

His fists are clenched tightly together as he brings them up to the sides of his head, chest beginning to glow with his new power, the one you'd never seen before, the one that Ben said practically vaporized whatever was in it's path.

Shit.

"Ben. Stay with me, listen to my voice." You touch the sides of his face, begging him to listen to your plea. As much as you wanted the Twins to pay, Ben wasn't just losing control of his powers, this was different. It was almost like he was being dragged somewhere else, somewhere you couldn't follow.

"Everything's okay. I'm here, I'm right here." You soothe, but he continues to glow brighter and brighter and you're directly in the line of fire.

Shit.

Ben's eyes flash open, no longer bright green but an orange-gold that makes fear snag in your ribs like a fishing hook. His hand makes contact with your chest shoving you to the side, out of the way of the beam, but unfortunately through the solid rock wall.

You don't really know what happens next. The world goes black for a few minutes, not like when you die, but just black as everything burns around you when Ben explodes. You're not sure how long you're under, could be minutes, could be hours, all you know is that when you wake up everything hurts.

It's how you know that you didn't officially die. Whenever you woke up after death, it was different, you felt powerful, reborn, but right now you felt like a train ran over you. A headache throbs at your temples as you begin to come to, blinking your eyes against the darkness that doesn't go away. Your ears are ringing, filled with the screams of those who survived and the smell of burned flesh and blood surrounds you like a cloud.

A mountain of rubble and roofing covers you, leaving you in the darkness to get your bearings, but nothing feels broken.

At least the brick fireplace broke my fall. You think to yourself with a groan as you begin to push off the planks of wood and pieces of the roof that cover your body, so you can sit up. As soon as you do, your head spins and you fight the unpleasant urge to throw up.

Great. Might have a concussion.

You might be as strong as Ben, but your ability to die meant that you were just a little bit less equipped to handle a hit like that.

Ben. Worry and fear war in your heart as you look around the broken room that lays in tatters around you.

The house isn’t recognizable anymore. Singed carpet floats in tufts with ash around your face like a swarm of flies while fires burn in clumps all over the ruined room. Chunks of drywall and planks of blackened wood litter the floor and the back half of the house is gone, burned to a crisp in the blast from Ben.

What the fuck did they put in his chest? Ben had tried to describe it to you, tried to explain it, but standing here in the rubble you understood just how bad it was. The ruins in Mid-town you had seen the coverage of on the news, but it was a completely different thing to experience it in person.

People are going to think that he did this on purpose. That he's a bad person, that he's some kind of terrorist. The thought is immediately followed by the fear that Vought and the government would come to take him away. Your jaw tightens. I'd like to see them try.

The bodies of Tommy and Tessa are burned beyond recognition, still holding hands, but now are just blacked lumps of flesh and bone that lay where they tried to make their final stand. But you feel no remorse.

It’s what we came here to do, to make them pay. You bite the inside of your cheek listening to the screams of those who survived. I just didn't think that so many others would get hurt.

You continue to look around the room, worry rising in your chest as you think of Ben and remember the look on his face. He had been scared of what was about to happen even if he didn’t want to admit it. He lost control. In the past when he lost control the worst thing he could do was rip someone in half or smash their face into a pulp, but now if Ben ever lost control he'd level a building.

I see a lot of yoga in his future. Or maybe anger management classes.

Although the thought makes you smile, as soon as you see Ben everything else fades from your mind. Ben is on his knees in the center of the room, head slumped forward on his chest, hands laying limply by his sides, as he takes in shaky breaths. You could hear the frantic pound of his heart, beating hard against his rib cage as if begging to be released. Seeing him like that almost sends you into overdrive. You’d never seen him look so defeated, so small, so tired, so… lost.

“Ben?” You fall to your knees next to him, reaching out to touch his face, to bring his attention to you.

His body tenses as you do so, eyes narrowing when he meets yours like he doesn’t know you. His eyes miles away.

But where?

“Hey, it’s me.” You say gently, cupping his face with your hands to rub your thumbs across his cheeks while fear grips your heart as you try to bring him back to you. “It’s me, I’m here. It’s okay.”

Ben inhales sharply as if suddenly remembering, the look in his eyes clearing for a moment, rising through the fog. "Y/n?" He whispers.

"Yeah. I'm here." You repeat, smiling at him even though the urge to cry builds in the back of your throat. It broke your heart to see him like this. You push his hair back from his face, brushing the ash from the mahogany strands.

 “Are you okay? Did I-“ Worry etches itself across his handsome face.

“I’m fine. Shhh.” You soothe, pulling him against you so your can rub his back softly and lock him in your embrace. But the truth was you were afraid. You didn’t understand what happened and couldn’t explain the look in his eyes when he went under, when he started to lose himself in his newfound powers. Ben crumbles into you, leaning his head against your shoulder as if needing it to strengthen him.

“It’s okay. Everything’s okay.” You weren’t sure the effects the blast had on him, just that he seemed unsure as to how the hell he did it.

 Where did he go in those moments?

“The twins?” Ben mumbles.

“They’re dead.” You could hear the approaching ambulances and police cars, hear the anxious chatter of the survivors outside.

We’ve got to get out of here.

“Come on. Let’s go.” You say softly rising to your feet and helping him up. Ben stumbles a step, shaking his head like he can’t catch his bearings and the worry comes roaring back. You catch him and tilt his body so he can lean on you. “Ben are you okay?” Your fingers dance against the sides of his face trying to bring his focus back to you, because you were afraid he might lose himself to whatever the hell happened before.

“I will be in a minute.” Ben takes in a shaky breath, leaning on your shoulder. "I don't know what happened."

"It's okay." His shield rises telekinetically from the rubble and into your outstretched hand that glows a brilliant purple in the dusty light. Smoke billows up from the room around you obscuring the sunlight that filters through the ruined front of the house, but you can still see the front drive already becoming swarmed with people and news crews.

Because that's exactly what Rosemary needs to see, me and Ben on the 5'oclock news. Fuck.

"Come on." You lead him back the way you can, toting his shield in your free hand, down the stairs.

When you spot Butcher, Ben straightens finally catching his bearings and takes the shield from you. Butcher looks from Ben to you, eyebrows raised.

"Sorted?"

"Yeah." Ben frowns.

You could tell that he was still a little shaky, but you knew he wasn't going to admit that to anyone, especially not to Butcher. Your gaze falls on the man from before laying on the ground, the man that Butcher had told Ben to leave.

Why did he want Ben to spare his life if Butcher was only going to beat him down?

But just as you take a step towards the man to check him for injuries, a long shadow falls on the floor at your feet.

Your eyes jolt upwards and focus on Homelander. The smell of hairspray, hair dye, and cheap cologne waft through the air at Homelander's appearance.  He's shorter than you expected him to be, not overtly muscular, but he didn't need to be. Supes with superstrength didn't need to look like body builders, and you suspected that the only reason why Homelander even had any kind of muscle was for his image as America's Hero. Then again, you never complained about Ben's muscular physique.

I don’t think anybody should complain about that and- Nope. Nope. Not thinking about that right now.

But as you stare at him there's something wrong, something that you can't place, something that tugs at the back of your mind when you look at him, almost as if you've forgotten something important.

Seeing him in person is surreal. You'd only ever seen him on the news or on billboards or on those stupid energy drinks that were sold at the bodega on the corner where you get coffee filters sometimes, but the look in his eyes is the same. It's cold, unfeeling, and reminds you of those ridiculous shark documentaries that Rosemary is obsessed with. The only time she could watch shark week was after Lou went to bed. She said that watching it made her feel better about her job and you didn't complain.

Homelander looks around the room forcing a smile, a predatory glare in his eyes.

"William Butcher and Soldier Boy. Of course you are behind this. It really is all about me." Homelander's smile widens.

Narcissistic much? This guy's like a walking red flag.

He takes a step closer to the three of you, and Ben steps in front of you to shield you from Homelander's view. Homelander clocks the movement, but then tsks his finger at Butcher.

"William we made a deal to fight to the death, you and me." Homelander's eyes begin to glow. "You cheated, deals off."

The red flash of the laser-vision illuminates Ben's face in sharp contrast as the beam hits Butcher full in the chest propelling him back into the wall. His body falls to the ground and lies still.

Well. That's not good.

Honestly you didn't like Butcher all that much, but you couldn't help but feel a little bit bad.

You glance up from Butcher's body to gaze at Homelander again. Fighting him hadn't been on the agenda today, but it was starting to look that way. You knew what his powers were, knew that Vought probably told him his entire life that he was a god and that no one could compare to him. And you knew that the man standing next to you hadn't changed enough to walk away from the fight, no matter how bad his odds were.

And deep down you knew that you weren't going to let Ben take that beating, which of course meant that you were going to fight Homelander. Not that you were afraid of him. One look at him might have sent everyone else heading for the hills, but he didn't intimidate you.

"I watched all your movies, hundreds of times. You were the only one that was nearly as strong as me." The look on Homelander's face is one of respect almost wonder.

And you can imagine a smaller version of Homelander being fed all the same propaganda that Ben and you were fed all those years ago, imagine Homelander growing up hearing that he was stronger, greater, faster than Soldier Boy, and imagine Vogelbaum working hard to make sure to mold Homelander into the hero that America wanted. Not to mention all the shit he probably heard when he was with Stormfront. You were very happy that you didn't have to see her again, though now you had a fun story to tell Ben about one of his exes.

“Buddy you’re wearing a cape, do you think you look strong?” Ben frowns at Homelander.

“It is pretty stupid.” You agree examining Homelander’s supe suit. “Honestly I thought you had it bad with that dorky looking helmet-“ You glance at Ben out of the corner of your eye.

“Really? You’re gonna do this now?” Ben glowers turning his attention to you.

“I’m just being honest it was pretty bad and I’m glad you decided not to wear it today. But his cape is definitely worse.”

“Do you want me to bring up that ridiculous hood you had?”

“You can, but I won’t believe you, because that hood was fabulous and I looked fantastic in it.”

Homelander clears his throat to catch your attention. “Um hello?”

“Hi.” You force a smile. “Oh sorry did we interrupt your little monologue?”

Homelander's gaze turns icy as you continue. “Because we can take this from the top. What was the line again? Something about power or watching his films? I was only half listening. Did you want me to record it for you so you can post it on your socials?”

“What the f-“ Homelander begins to say, but you interrupt him.

“I mean. That is why you practiced it in the mirror for so long right? And why you did your hair and makeup?" You scrunch up your nose. "I'd skip that last mist of hairspray if I were you. You want it to look smooth, not look like you stuck your finger in an electrical socket.”

You could tell that Ben was trying to maintain his composure, but his mouth was twitching in a smile. “Oh wait does your suit have a body cam? I guess that makes things easier, because it probably doesn't have pockets. Not to mention if you dropped your phone while you were flying around-"

"Who the fuck are you?" Homelander spits interrupting you.

"No one important."

“Is he really what passes for a hero these days?” Ben cocks an eyebrow. “He’s just a cheap fucking knock off of me.”

“No.” Homelander snarls, eyes beginning to glow bright red. “I’m the upgrade.”

The laser cuts through the air in slow motion, but you’re already moving.

"Ben!" His name rips from your throat as you lunge forward and shove him as hard as you can out of the way of the beam. You feel the laser tear through your body, the force throwing you backward through one of the wood paneled walls and then the darkness swallows you whole.

If someone were to ask you what it was like to die, you wouldn’t know how to answer. To exist in those thirteen seconds sometimes feels like a dream, like you're floating, but it's always silent. And the silence scares you. How quickly it comes to drag you under and how it seems to replace everything you know or remember about the real world until you come back to life. You understood why Ben didn't like being alone, because you didn't either. It reminded you too much of those moments you were gone, wishing for it to stop. There was never a bright light, there was only the darkness and the silence that fell when your heart stopped beating.

When you take your first breath in thirteen seconds it's full of dust and ash, swirling into your mouth as you inhale sharply to jumpstart your lungs. But at the same time everything is different. The colors in the room are brighter, the sounds more acute, the smells just a fraction stronger, and you feel different. Power floods through your limbs, swirling through flesh and bone, pouring through your veins, electrifying through each nerve ending and setting you on fire, more than any other power ever has. You'd never felt power like this before. Even with Countess and the others that had killed you, no other power you'd ever gotten had felt this strong.

You stand up from the rubble you landed in, covered in a layer of dust and blood. The hole in your new outfit where the laser struck is just under your left breast, the mark left behind already a pink scar. And you knew that Ben would probably kill you for it later, for taking the laser for him, but you didn't care.

Homelander is floating in the center of the room, holding Ben by the throat, smiling cruelly at him.

"Hey asshole." You snarl, spitting out a glob of blood onto the ruined carpet. "We're not done."

Homelander turns his head towards you amused, while Ben grabs at the front of his suit, trying to get his attention, but Homelander is focused on you.

"So that's it? That's your big trick? Laser vision? Forgive me for not cowering in fear." Your hands clench into fists at your sides.

He eyes you for a moment. "You're Indigo aren't you?"

"I used to be. Now I'm just disappointed. I expected more from Vought's big hero, but now I see that you're just another asshole who thinks he's a god." Your eyes drift to Ben for a moment, worry clawing at your heart when you meet his gaze. "So drop him. Before I drop you."

"You’re very confident for someone who was dead a few seconds ago. I don't really see how that ability is going to help you-"

"Before I didn’t want to kill you."

"And you think you can?" He laughs.

"No." You smirk. "I know I can."

"Who do you think you’re talking to?"

"I’m not talking to much." Your eyes narrow. "But I'll be nice, and I'll give you a chance to leave. To tuck your tail between your fucking legs and fly away. We didn't come here for you and you and I don't have to do this."

"And if I don't leave?"

"Then I'll kill you."

"I'd like to see you try." Homelander throws Ben as hard as he can through the brick fireplace, causing rock and mortar to rain down on top of him, but Homelander's eyes don't leave yours. “Well why don’t you give me your best sho-“

He doesn’t have time to finish his sentence, your body ploughs into his tackling him through the solid outer wall and onto the back lawn.

Truthfully you hadn’t meant to go through the wall, you’d only meant to pin him to it, but flying was proving just a little more difficult than you expected. Your hand closes on Homelander’s wrist bringing him down against the ground so hard that the earth quakes, before you throw him as far away from you as you can.

His body spins awkwardly in the air, before he ploughs into one of the thick oak trees head on, at the edge of the backyard. The loud snap of the tree compensating for Homelander’s body fills the air.

He stumbles to his feet, eyes narrowed in pure hatred, lip curled back in a snarl, and his blonde hair flopping forward into his face.

“You chose wrong.” You spit, rolling your shoulders, preparing for what came next.

Homelander lets out a roar and flies towards you, arms outstretched for you, but you’re ready for him.

You catch his fist before it lands against your face and tighten your other hand around his throat. Your bodies are floating two feet off the ground, but it doesn’t faze you.

When Homelander’s gaze meets yours you see just a flicker of fear, a spark, quickly masked by his shock. He struggles to pull away to push you away with his free hand, but all you do is tighten your grip.

 "You've never felt real pain before have you?" You force your face into a sympathetic frown, before your eyes harden. "Allow me to enlighten you."  You throw him to the ground again, watching his body spin and screech against the grass and dirt.

 Given the screams and smell of blood in the air, any witnesses from the massacre inside were at the front of the house waiting for the police, leaving you and Homelander on the backside of the house alone.

Worry for Ben rose in your chest like the peak of a wave, you hadn't seen him since Homelander threw him through the fireplace, but you funnel that worry into all encompassing rage.

"They told you that you were a god right? That you were the most powerful supe that ever lived. They were wrong. There's only one supe more powerful than you, and you just fucking pissed her off." You shout beginning to float towards him.

Homelander growls rising to his feet, eyes glowing bright red as he fires a laser at you, but you’re ready.

Your own beam catches his mid air between you, the high pitched sizzle and smell of ozone floats across your face, but you don't back down. If anything, it just makes you more angry.

And then something slams into you from the side, breaking the connection between your beam and Homelander's.

"What-" You shout, looking up at the body above yours, preparing to blast them off, but you realize it's Ben. "Ben what-"

"Stay here." He growls, eyes black. Ben looks pissed, whether it’s because you pushed Ben out of the way before or if it’s because he’s annoyed that Homelander punched him you’re not sure.

"What?" You look beyond him, to see Hughie and Butcher tackle Homelander to the ground.

They're going to try to turn him human.

"I can hold him down-" You say. “Let me help.”

"No." Ben snarls as he stalks towards Homelander, his chest beginning to glow.

“Ben-“

“Stay the fuck there.” Ben shouts still looking at Homelander.

Your eyes flit to the leader of the Seven. Watching him struggle against Hughie and Butcher, who yell at one another, but you don’t hear them. You wait for the remorse to crash over you, the guilt, but it never comes.

I gave him a choice. He could have run. He didn’t. He chose this.

And just when you think it’s all over, Homelander breaks away from them, surging up into the air to freedom. You feel your feet leave the ground to follow him, someone’s hand tightens on your ankle and drags you back down to earth.

“No.” Ben’s voice is more of a growl than anything else.

He’s angry, that much you can tell from the look on his face and from the way his eyes have hardened into two solid chunks of emerald as he locks eyes with you.

But why? Angry because Homelander got away or angry because I pushed him out of the way?

“Ben I can get him. Let me go.” You kick your ankle but Ben holds on.

“No.” Ben snarls. “You’re not about to go after that sick fuck by yourself.”

“Ben-“

“No. If I have to chain you to the ground I will.” Ben pulls you down further and releases your ankle to  fasten his hand around you waist to hold you tighter against the ground. “You’re not going after him.”

“Fine.” You snap pulling yourself from his grasp, your own temper flaring.

You hated when Ben did that, when he acted like you weren’t just as capable as him of doing this. It reminded you of your childhood, when you were treated like you were made of glass, a pretty doll that was made to be looked at but never touched.

And you knew it came from Ben’s want to protect you, knew that it came from his fear of losing you, but that didn’t make it any less annoying.

You didn’t pout when Ben went out to face someone, didn’t try to act like he couldn’t do it.

“I know that maybe I’m a little behind but… WHAT THE FUCK JUST HAPPENED?” Hughie shouts. “You have laser vision and you can fly and you can move things with your mind!?” He looks frantically from you to Ben.

You don’t answer, your eyes are still on Ben who looks ready to throw Butcher’s car into space. You could practically see the waves of anger rolling off of him like a comic strip.

“You didn’t before, did you?” Butcher’s eyes trace your body as things begin to click into place. “You didn’t before he killed you.”

“Hold on.” Hughie holds up his hand. “Are you telling me that you die and you come back to life WITH THE POWERS OF THE SUPE THAT KILLED YOU?”

“It wasn’t in the files.” Butcher’s eyes still haven’t left you. “Vought didn’t know did they?”

You don’t like the way he’s looking at you, don’t like the glimmer in his eyes as if you’d just solved all his problems. It was the exact look that was in the eyes of the scientists the day you took the serum for the first time. To them that’s all Ben and you were, lab rats, people who were stupid enough to listen to the wild ideas of glory and a better world they spouted.

“We should go.” You murmur, listening to the sounds of the ambulances and the police coming up the driveway. “It’s about to be a circus here and I'd rather not make my big social media debut covered in rubble and blood."

Ben’s mouth is clamped together, green eyes blazing at your mention of blood. You knew that he was focused on the bloody hole left behind in the corset where Homelander's laser had ripped through your body.

Another scar, another fun story to tell my daughter when I see her… great.

*****************************************

The car ride to Legend’s is dead silent. Ben doesn’t look at you, doesn’t try to hold your hand, and doesn’t try to touch you in any way. Instead his hands are curled into fists, sitting on the tops of his thighs while his anger heats the inside of the car like a furnace. You knew it was only a matter until he exploded, but now you had bigger things on your mind.

You had just exposed yourself to Homelander, showed your face to him, not to mention you admitted to being Indigo. It would be easy for him to find your real name in the Vought archives find your file and the same name that linked you to Rosemary. She’d gone back to her maiden name when her husband died, which meant the two of you had the same last name and it wouldn’t be difficult for Homelander to find her.

Which meant you needed to get to her first.

You had tried to text her, tried to tell her to have a bag ready and that you were going to pick her up, but she was refusing to do so and you didn’t exactly want to text “Homelander is a fucking psychopath and he’s going to come after you” to her phone. Plus you couldn’t exactly call her, not in this cramped car.

Legend is waiting on the front porch of his country home when Butcher pulls his car into the end of the long driveway, somewhere that you’d been to many times in the past. He's smoking a joint and scrolling through his phone, wearing the same outfit you had seen him in a few days ago.

"Kitten!" He smiles wide at you when he sees you and pulls you into a hug. “I was worried when I heard about that mess with Countess. You never called.” Legend frowns at you, blowing out a lungful of smoke. "Guess you guys had a talk."

"Something like that." You frown. "It got complicated really fast."

“I told you so.” His eyes shift to where Ben is glowering a foot behind you. "I see he found you. I didn't tell him-"

"I know you didn't. Thank you for keeping your promise." You smile tightly, squeezing Legend's hand. He really was a good friend. One of the oldest ones you had besides Ben.

"Figured if I did, you'd keep him from ripping my head off."

“Haven’t decided if I’m not going to yet.” Ben snarls and Legend's eyes widen in fear.

But you knew that he was just redirecting his anger. Ben was angry because you put yourself in harms way to protect him and the sooner you had it out, the sooner you could go get Rosemary and Lou.

"Ben we both know that you're not mad at Legend, you're mad at me. So you might as well spit it out, because we've got bigger problems than your hissy fit-" You begin to say. You were sick of him pouting, refusing to look at you, refusing to touch you.

"What the FUCK were you thinking?!" Ben roars towering over you, eyes flashing. "Getting between me and him like that!"

Legend backs away, afraid that he's going to get caught in the cross-fire.

"Calm down." You sigh, gritting your teeth together. You were trying your best not to lose it either, because the last thing this situation needed was you losing control.

"DON’T TELL ME TO CALM DOWN." Ben's hands are clenched tightly into fists, his suit beginning to glow bright.

"You're going to have to calm down or you're going to blast me to kingdom come!" You snap back.

Ben grits his teeth together and closes his eyes tightly while his chest begins to fade back to normal and when it does, he opens his eyes to glare at you. "Why did you do that? I had him handled-"

"You didn't."

"Yes I did. You didn't give me a chance to-"

"No what I did was I didn't give that psychopath a chance to punch a hole through your chest with his fucking laser vision." You poke him in the chest. "Of the two of us, I have a greater chance of surviving that!”

By then Butcher and Hughie had moved to give the two of you a wide berth, standing where Legend was watching the two of you looking bored. They were probably hoping that you didn’t cut one of them in half with your new powers.

"Are they always like this?" You hear Butcher ask Legend from where they stand a safe distance away.

"Pretty much." Legend answers, blowing out a puff of the fowl smelling smoke.

"Do you ever get used to it?" Hughie mutters.

"Nope."

“Is there an off button?” Butcher sighs.

“Nope.” Legend puffs his joint.

"You don't know that!" Ben spits back at you. "I could have!"

"I wasn't willing to take that chance damnit!"

How can I make him understand this? How can he finally understand what it would be like for me to lose him all over again, just when I got him back?

"Do you really think that I'm willing to play Russian Roulette with your life?" Ben snarls, grabbing you by the shoulders so tightly you're sure they'll be bruises but all you can do is look into his quickly darkening eyes. "Do you have any idea what it did to me to see you die AGAIN? To see him TOUCH YOU? To know that he HURT you?"

"We've already had this conversation Ben-"

"And we're going to fucking have it again!" His grip tightens. "I told you to stay behind me!"

The last time he'd touched you like this was the night of the premiere, when he told you that he didn't care about you, that he could never love you. The memory of that night lodges itself in the back of your throat, but you keep it down.

"And I told you that I wasn't going to do that!"

"Damn it y/n you can't-"

You pull yourself away from him. "No Ben. You can't tell me what to do. You don't get to control me. People have tried to control me all my damn life and when I first came with you I thought I was giving that up. But no, I just moved on and Vought took over. When I decided to live my own life, to stop being a supe, I was free! Finally! After forty years of bullshit I was finally free!"

Ben’s jaw is so tightly locked together you think you hear the grinding of his teeth. “So what are you saying? Are you saying that when you’re with me you feel trapped? Like I’m holding you fucking hostage?!”

“No.” You exhale heavily. "I understand that you love me. I understand that you want to protect me. But you need to understand that I love you too. That just as you're willing to lay down your life for me, I am willing to lay down my life for you. And if you want this to work between us, you need to understand that you don't control me. You're not my dad or my owner, you're the man I love. And until you realize that I am just as capable of protecting you as you are protecting me-"

"I know that." Ben seethes.

"What?"

"Do you really think that I don't see how strong you are?” You watch something flash in his eyes that isn't anger, the vulnerable look is back for a fleeting moment and it rocks you to your core. "I don’t want to control you! I’m not trying to. Have you thought that maybe after all this time I just wanted you to need me like I need you?"

His confession makes your heart stop. Does he really think that I don’t need him? That after all these years there’s no one else that I’ve needed more in my entire life?

“Ben.” You sigh while stretching out your hand to lay against his arm, but he flinches away. “ I do need you. You have no idea how much I need you, no idea what it did to me when I lost you even after everything that happened. I just don’t want you to treat me like I’m made of glass.”

“I don’t treat you like you’re-“ He begins to say.

“Yes. You do. And there’s nothing wrong with wanting to protect me, but you have to understand that I want to protect you too.”

He huffs out a breath, shoulders tensed, arms crossed over his muscular chest. “I do understand that. I just hate it when you do that, that you push me out of the way. I hate when you get hurt.”

“And I hate when you get hurt." You bite the inside of your cheek. "You say that you were angry that Homelander hurt me, but did you stop to consider what it did to me to see him try to hurt you? Do you know what it did to me to see him touch you?”

Ben stands there for a minute glaring down at you, before his gaze begins to soften. “No.” He grumbles.

“Exactly.”

You both stand there for a minute eyeing one another, daring the other to break the silence.

This is ridiculous.

Finally Ben, sighs out a breath and jerks you forward against his chest. The hug would be bone crushing for anyone else, but not to you.

“You’re so fucking annoying.” He mutters into the top of your head, while his body curves around yours.

“I love you too asshole.” You huff, hugging him back just as tight.

“See they always work it out.” Legend shrugs at Butcher. “Takes them a while to get there. They made my job so much harder in the 70’s. Though I will say it’s a relief that they’re finally admitting they love each other. Way too much sexual tension before, gave me anxiety.”

Ben pulls back to look at your face with another loud sigh. He still looks a little angry, but not angry enough to start shouting again. His thumb strokes against your cheek. “Are you okay?”

You nod once leaning into his touch. “Are you?” You brush back some of his dark hair out of his face, looking for bruises but you don’t see any.

“Yeah.” He nods.

“If the two of you are done, we have bigger things to worry about-“ Butcher begins to say.

“We are and we do.” You interrupt looking away from Ben to stare at Butcher. “I need to borrow your car.”

“Why?”

“I need to go back to the city.”

“What?” Ben sputters releasing you from his grasp.

“And I think it would be better if I went alone-“ You continue slowly.

Honestly you did think that it would be better if you went alone, but you didn’t want to. You wanted Ben to come with you, the problem was Rosemary.

“Like hell I’m letting you go alone with that son of a  bitch flying around!” Ben shouts, temper flaring again.

“Which is why I have to go.” You try to say it diplomatically, try to have him understand without having to explain it. But there’s really no way around it, around any of this.

“No.”

“Ben please c-"

“Don’t tell me to calm down again! I’m not being crazy. You’re not going after him!” His eyes blaze a brilliant green, as he crosses his hands over his chest.

“Ben-“

“Why can’t you listen to me for once?”

“BEN!” You shout, grabbing his face and holding his cheeks between your palms to catch his attention.

“What?” Ben’s eyes lock with yours.

“I’m not going to the city to go after Homelander.”

He pauses confused. “Then why are you-“

And you just can’t take it anymore. You can’t hold it in any longer, can’t think of a way to tell him without just ripping the bandaid off. Your eyes meet his, apologetic, determined, and just a little bit fearful.

“I’m going back into the city to get our daughter.”

*****************************************************

A/N: I know I know, it's been a while and honestly I didn't mean to get hit by writer's block this bad 😂😭

But it kinda works out, because what better way to celebrate Father's Day than to tell Soldier Boy that he's a dad?

As always thank you so much for reading! There are big things coming! And thank so much for the love and support! If you'd like to be added to the taglist please let me know :)

Taglist: @roseblue373 @anundyingfidelity @cheynovak @cassiecasluciluce @muhahaha303 @deans-spinster-witch @kayleighmeister @demodemo909 @fruitfacess @bobbobbobinogs @bughill126 @simplyfixated @sleepjam @tiredstrangerr @freefallthoughts @onlyangel-444 @lov3vivian @mxltifxnd0m @mayafatimakhan @marvel-mistress @my-obsession-spn @lifeonawhim @soldirboy @liuope @brynanna @carpenterswife @xxannyxx @babyinatrench-coat1 @the-gentle-spirit @valryomen @cassieriddle713 @shaggzthatsnottheworm @lil-soup @ej13928 @topstory21 @boywivlove @mrsjenniferwinchester @vivre-dans-la-nuit @megara0224 @daisy-the-quake @thesilmarillionblog @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @libby99hb @peachhiz @tinydancer40

[nanamisdarling]

《- dad's best friend Nanami Kento x ftm reader

Cw!: readers genitalia reffered as: cunt/pussy(mentioned boobs), somnophilia, mating press, pussy eating, age gap, Nanami is in his 40's (reader is 18 or above), dilf Nanami, pregnancy kink (?)

Summary

Your dad invites his hot friend, nanami, to come over. He just finds u so cute!! And has been fantasizing about fucking you, so at nighttime he takes action♡

A/n: i apologize to any grammar errors English isn't my first language >□< and this is shorter than I expected..

-

"[Name] you better get ready, nanami is coming in any minute!" Your dad said. It was daytime around 1 pm, you were in your bedroom. So excited to meet Nanami!! :3

You have actually had fantasies about him for so long, his big veiny hands touching you...his long fingers fingering your pussy!! >:3

You realized that u had been zooning out and you proceed to dress up. Then there is a sudden harsh knock at the door, you guessed it was Nanami. You went downstairs and u see your dad greeting Nanami by the door. "[Name]? Oh yeah he is right here!" You heard your dad say, all the attention coming to you. Fuck, seeing Nanami staring at you just makes you tremble...this is wrong, Nanami has a wife and kids!! He'd never like you, you thought.

"Wow [name]! It's good to see you! It's been a long time since we met." He smiles at you, you bit your lip and looked away. You didn't even notice the lustful eyes Nanami was giving you.

"Y-yeah.."

-

It was nighttime. You were fast asleep. Nanami wasn't originally going to stay over, but the time flew, so he thought he could stay overnight. Maybe it was his plan, his plan to fuck you and make you his.

Nanami waited until he could hear your heavy snores through the thin walls. He then went quietly to your door and opened it. It creaked, but he's glad you're a deep sleeper. He slowly went his way to you, so vulnerable sleeping♡

He grabbed your covers, putting it beside. Revealing your half naked body infront of him. What a slut! He thought, seeing your perky boobs, he wanted it all from your pussy to your nipples. He then discarded your boxers, revealing your pretty cunt♡

He quickly lapped his mouth around your cunt, licking on the clit and fingerig your hole with two fingers. He heard slight moans coming through your mouth, how cute!!♡

He ends up putting his tongue in your hole, tongue fucking you. The immense pleasure making you yolt awake.

"MH!?N-nanami?! W-what are yo-aahh!!...Doing!! GK!!" You moaned out, eyes rolling back.

You stared down making eye contact with Nanami, watching him as he flicks his hand on your clit. "N-nanami!!..fuck please! My D-dad is going to hear..!!" You cry out. Nanami stops eating you out. "Shh baby boy, be a good boy and br quiet."

You whimper as you feel nanami pulling your body into his!♡ Spreading your legs up to your shoulders and hovering above you, he takes his hard dick out from his briefs and doesn't bother preparing you and slammed his dick in you♡

"N-nami! Too much t-too MUCH!!♡" You rolled your eyes, trying to cover your mouth with your hands. It didn't matter though, u were still loud despite covering. "Fuck..you don't know how long I wanted to do this." Nanami whimpered, his hard thursts making you even closer to orgasm.

"Cum!! Nami I'm g-going to cum!!!♡" You yelled out, making him thurst faster, getting sloppier and sloppier.

With one last thurst he makes you cum. "Uwah!! NHAMII!!♡" You scream out, probably waking up your dad. Nanami comes after you feeling your throbbing cunt clench around his dick. Clear slick squirting out from you as it's mixed with his white liquid, filling you up to the brim♡

"Are you okay?" He asks, nanami looks at you in awe seeing your face flushing red, heavy n rapid breathing. You slowly nod at him. Almost forgetting the fact that the man u so constantly masturbate to just came inside you!! :3

"I will take care of you, go to sleep."

Was the last thing he said until your eyelids felt heavy and u fell alseep(*≧д≦)

[billskeis]

hi can you do Tom smut where he is dating reader and she likes reading and he just like tells her to read for him while he is fucking her and she just like struggles to talk and he is just kinda chuckling and listening to her

ᡣ𐭩 tom’s personal bookworm

lol haha hi so imagine tom kaulitz, considered the sexiest guitarist in germany right now as tokio hotel rises up to the top as rockstars with a bookworm reader. never really goes to their concerts because she enjoys her alone time but however will support from the other side of the screen as their concerts are constantly being streamed.

you were never the type to be upset about not being able to spend actual time with tom knowing his packed schedule, understanding and content with just being able to see him from afar.

reader loves book. and i mean, LOVES books. her whole room is filled with them. her parents were concerned for her every passing day because all she did was spend her allowance on books. not that they’re complaining because at the end of the day she was smart, humble, quiet. never really got herself into trouble since she would spend most of her days reading.

they’ve always wondered how she got a boyfriend that’s the total opposite of her.. mr popular who has thousands of girls just waiting for him to court them, is dating a nerdy nobody who only spends her free time reading? i guess you can say opposites really do attract.

tom now has been making more frequent visits to his girlfriend’s humble abode to catch her often stuck in a book that she’s been raving about the day before. rambling on how exciting it is to be able to start a fresh new book after just finishing one. it could only really take her a day to finish a thick novel that she had just purchased long ago, head in the clouds of true crime, thriller and fantasy. tom wishes his girlfriend would pay more attention to him now that he’s off tour and can finally spend time with her. ohoh, he’s jealous. jealous of a fucking book, or books, lol.

and all of a sudden, the new books that you have recently bought have been collecting dust, stuck on the same book for a week now.

tom had asked you to read out the dialogue between the main protagonist and the villain, sliding himself inside of you as he slowly fucks your soaking walls sitting on the ottoman stood at the end of your bed. “oh fuck, you’re tight.. ‘s been a while huh schatzi?” a firm grip on your ass as he holds your body upright, sitting in his lap as you hold a book in-front of you like a teacher standing at a podium. “t-tom, i can’t concentrate like this.”

“c’mon, read to me baby.” moving your hips up and down his length, slowly and agonizing, your cunt feels every inch and vein of his cock, the stretch just right as he presses kisses to your cervix with his tip.

you huffed in defeat, biting your lip before speaking, “a-and so.. you e-either—mmgh.. surrender to me or, o-or.. ah!” yelping as the curve of his dick presses against your velvety walls in a new angle, pleasure shooting through your body as legs threaten to shake. tom can only laugh at you, a throaty groan while he continues to move your body at a rhythm that satiates the both of you. he indulges in controlling how you ride him, a soft and pliable body made for him to fuck and distract her from what she loves the second most, him coming in first after all.

you hold onto your book for dear life, stuttering words as they struggle to fall off your lips, drool coming out more instead as you grind your hips on tom.

he silently watches you, watches how you fail to get a complete sentence out without choking on a moan or a whimper, chuckling as he is completely enamoured with your being. how pretty you are in his lap riding his cock as you attempt to fill out his request of storytelling one of your current reads.

but he listens. he listens as you break it down to him on how the superhero and the villain instead come to redeem themselves as lovers rather than enemies. and it’s quite sweet, isn’t it? how people on the opposite sides of the universe can just come together as one, quite ironic if you ask me. but he absolutely adores the way you read to him, even if it involves shoving his cock into your cunt, over, and over again.

as a hand holds your waist, he uses his other hand to rub your clit in front of him, your body jolts from the overstimulation as you leak onto his pelvic moan, juices spilling to seep onto the suede chair.

feeling overwhelmed, your book almost slips from your grasp as you wrap your arms around tom’s neck, complaining that it’s ‘too much’ and you ‘can’t take it,’ but he doesn’t listen, he can only press a kiss to your cheek and tell you “you’re doing good baby, just a few more pages mkay?” his hands massaging your waist as he bounces you on his cock. you swallow your words instead, incapable to recite the dialogue as you cried out in pleasure.

with a smirk plastered on his lips, tom takes the book from your hand and throws it to the bed behind you, he can’t risk in damaging your goods now! your struggle for speech was quickly replaced with the creak of the ottoman inside your bedroom, your back arching as your chest is now flush to tom’s clinging onto the body that bullies you as eyes roll back.

your head rests on tom as tears roll off your face and tongue lolls out onto his shoulder, you babble ‘sorries’ to tom, as you now realized that despite his time off, you prioritized the books you read 24/7 over your own boyfriend.

“s’okay.. i can—ugh, have my smart girlfriend all t’myself now, yea?”

so i didn’t proofread this lol >_<

anyways , i’m off to disappear for another couple days (maybe)

[actuallysaiyan]

The First Time(Aka How Nanami Kento Lost His Virginity)Chapter Five: Drink Water To Cry Better

Chapter Five: Drink Water To Cry Better

warnings: mentions of alcohol, partying, slight suggestive themes, angst, bullying pairings: Emo!Nanami Kento x Fem!Reader summary: you and Kento get invited to a frat house party and he decides to take you out even though he much rather stay in. you two have been getting closer, despite your own denial about your feelings for him. during a drunken make-out session, Kento soon learns what he believes is the truth about your relationship. things are left unsaid and things are colder than ice.

taglist: @beneathstarryskies @seireiteihellbutterfly @kenpachisbrat.

@marikuchanxo @harlekin6 @gennaray @markleeisdabestdrug

@entirelysein-e @brokennerdalert. @sugurusprettygirl

Masterlist

As the weeks go by, you and Kento find yourselves teetering on the edge of being in a relationship and still remaining casual. You really are falling so deeply in love with him, but you’re in denial. You try your best to remind yourself that this is just a college fling, but you wonder if maybe you could really be in a committed relationship with someone like him.

At night, you think of him. Even while in your bed alone, you cling to your pillow and wish he was here with you. In the last little bit, he’s been staying the night even though he’s not really supposed to be. You’ve dusted off your old Nintendo 64 for the two of you to play Ocarina of Time well into the wee hours of morning. If you’re not playing Legend of Zelda, you two are falling asleep to AVGN playing on your clunky laptop.

Kento has found a place in your heart, and you fear you won’t be able to let him go. You don’t want to consider him exclusive, but you are also not eager to share him with anyone else.

As the second semester comes to a close, you and Kento find yourselves invited to a party at a —---. He’s finding excuses not to go, but the minute you say you might want to go for just a bit, he sees the appeal in it.

“I think it could be fun,” you mention as you two have lunch together at your favorite cafe. “It’s a good way to unwind after exams.”

Kento nods and sips his coffee. “Yeah, I guess I never really saw it that way,”

“Will you come with me? I wouldn’t wanna go without you.”

This makes his heart flutter. Kento, on his end, has found himself completely head over heels for you. He’s gone through his denial phase a while back. He had tried his best to hide his feelings for you, but the more you two hung out, the more he found himself just hanging on to your every word. The more he would take an extra second to admire you.

And with every moment that passed between you two, he longed for the day that he could fully call you all his. He wanted to hold you in his arms, post-coitus and in that beautiful afterglow and to finally whisper those three words to you. For now though, it was just a singular fantasy. The one he imagines whenever he’s aroused and you’re not around to take care of him.

“Earth to Kento,” you wave your hand in his face.

“Yeah, sorry sorry…” he shrugs and tries to hide his blushing cheeks. “I’ll come with you if it means that much to you.”

You chuckle softly, reaching over the table to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. Just that little touch sends shivers down his spine. He can’t quite look you in the eyes right now, and you love the way his cheeks and tops of his ears are tinged just a little pink.

“It’s tomorrow night around 9,” you mention. “I’d like for us to go together.”

The words play in his mind, even after he’s promised to come by your dorm to pick you up around 8:30. He wonders what you’ll wear. Kento’s mind is very active that night, while he lays in his bed. He holds his pillow close.

The thought of you wearing a cute dress with fishnet tights makes his heart flutter in his chest. You were that type of girl too. He sees what you wear when you’re not trying to dress business casual for class. It turns him on to see you in such alternative attire.

The next morning, you two meet up for breakfast before a short morning class. You notice how he’s in a much better mood than usual, and you wonder if maybe the promise of cutting loose for a bit is making him happy.

The night comes quickly and you’re in your dorm texting a few friends and listening to music as you get ready. You settled on a gray and black plaid skirt along with knee high red and black socks. Your shirt was a cut up Green Day shirt you had bought the last time you went to a concert. You finished up your makeup in the mirror plastered in polaroids and old pictures taken from music magazines.

There’s a knock on your door and you rush over to answer it. Your breath hitches in your throat when you see Kento standing there, a single red rose in his hands. He’s blushing as he thrusts it in your direction.

“For you.”

Your eyes widen and you smile sweetly. You gladly take it, bringing the rose up to your nose. It smells floral and lightly sweet. Then you take in the look of the man who stole your heart. Dressed in his signature black skinny jeans and ripped up Vans slip-ons, he looks so good. And you notice the new checker print hoodie he’s wearing with his thumbs poking out the holes in the sleeves.

“You look really good,” you comment. You invite him inside and he sits on your couch.

He stumbles with his words. He tells you that you look pretty, but he means you look beautiful. He wants to take you into his arms, kiss you softly and tell you not to go out tonight. You two could stay in and finally take your relationship to the next step.

“Thanks Ken! Do you want to head out now?” you ask him after touching up your makeup.

He nods. “Y-yeah. Let’s go.”

You take his hand and grab your purse before you two leave your dorm. The walk to the frat house wasn’t far, so you two had a little time alone to enjoy each other’s company. The night is so beautiful. The sun had just finished setting and the sky was getting darker. The stars would be shining soon. You felt like this was one of those nights you’d never forget.

The minute the two of you step into the frat house, you know that this party is going to be wild. Beer bottles litter the ground amongst a group of drunken college kids. You look around as you and Kento enter the house, moving around waves of bodies that are either getting drunk or dancing. You spot a group of girls in the kitchen and you notice a few of your friends within that group.

“Hey!” You wave at them. Your fingers still interlocked with Kento’s.

The girls giggle before your friends spot you and they wave you over. Kento feels nervous about this. He knows what others think of him. They all think of him as a loser, a loner and someone who doesn’t fit in. What makes him fall so deeply for you is that you see him for who he truly is.

“Hey girl, glad you made it!” One of the girls comments, her eyes darting towards Kento. “You too! Nice to see you out of class.”

Kento shrugs. “Is there a reason for us to meet like this?”

You bite your lip in an attempt to stifle your laugh. “Awh, be nice, you.”

Kento smirks when he notices how some of your friends are trying to hide their laughter too. Maybe he could truly be a part of your fold. He holds your hand a little tighter.

You two make it to the counter where a large stash of booze is displayed. Kento grabs the bottle of whiskey, pouring some into a red solo cup. He hands you one, and the two of you sip on your drinks. It’s nasty and strong, but you two long to get a little fucked up tonight.

Throughout the night, you two drink your fair share of booze. Kento keeps a tight hold on you, preventing you from stumbling over or ramming into anyone accidentally. 

And finally, the moment comes when the two of you find a room that’s unoccupied. Your mind is a hazy mix of alcohol and lust for the man who’s been glued to your side this entire night. You kiss him first; it’s sloppy and hungry. Kento follows your lead, cupping your face.

The two of you make it to the bed, and you pull him on top of you. You giggle as he groans, then he kisses you again. His tongue feels a little tied, but he wants to tell you just how much fun he’s having.

“Such a good time when I’m with you,” he slurs between kisses. “I wanna…fuck I wanna show you just how much you mean to me.”

The minute you squeeze his hardened cock through his jeans, it seems to sober him up a little. He then realizes maybe he needs to cool off before he does anything else. Kento pulls away despite your protests.

“Just gonna get us water, ‘kay? Stay here, beautiful.”

When he steps out of the room, he’s wondering if he should even be leaving you in the room like that. You’re clearly drunk and anyone could enter. He decides to make it super quick. He goes into the kitchen, quickly swiping two bottles of water before making his way to the room again.

But before he can go inside, he hears girls giggling. Kento looks over his shoulder at the group of girls that you two had been talking to earlier.

“So,” the leader starts. “You’re the virgin, huh?”

The word sounds so nasty on her tongue. Kento knows you don’t care that he’s a virgin. You’ve been so patient and sweet with him this entire time. You’ve shown him the right way to explore each other. But the way she’s saying it now, it makes him feel ashamed of being a virgin at his age.

“You really think she likes you, huh? Come on, you’re just a pity fuck.”

The words cut him deeply. “Shut up, you don’t know her.”

The girl smirks, “And you think you do? Come on, get over yourself! She’s only using you as a pity fuck…or well not even cause you’re still a virgin.”

His blood boils and his heart is in his stomach now. He thinks back on all the things you two have been through together. Would you really do that to him? He thought that you two were really becoming close and things would progress really soon.

“See ya later, you fuckin’ virgin.”

With his stomach in knots and tears of frustration in his eyes, he enters the room. There you lay, on the bed. You look so fucking beautiful and he wants nothing more than to make you his. But now, he knows that maybe he’s been nothing but a joke to you this entire time. He gives you the bottle of water.

“I won’t be bothering you again.” He states. He hates that he’s doing this, but it was to protect himself. He watches as you slowly come to terms with the words coming out of his mouth.

Your heart flutters in a panic. You sit up, but you’re so dizzy. Kento wants to help you, but he’s hurting. He doesn’t want to let this continue if all you were doing was stringing him along. 

“Just forget we ever met, okay? You and I are done. There wasn’t anything between us anyway. Just continue your perfect fucking life without me.”

You stare at him in disbelief. You swore that tonight would be the night that you two would finally go all the way. And if not, you were ready to tell him how much you loved him. You feel tears stinging your eyes.

“Kento…wait…” You cry out. He shakes his head and turns away from you.

But before you can continue, he storms out. It’s only a few minutes later that your friends come in, sitting with you and consoling you as best as they can.

Kento walks home alone, his heart pounding and his mind racing with thoughts of regrets. He just messed up the greatest thing to ever happen to him.

[elumish]

I saw a post recent about the idea of, what happens after the revolution that some people are yearning for, and I have a lot of thoughts about that, but it actually also got me thinking about how a lot of people conceptualize government, and particularly how this shows up in books.

I've read a lot of books where someone is secretly or not-so-secretly the heir/rightful king or queen/the one true chosen leader/etc., and one thing that I see in a lot of those is this idea that government is its leader, and if you have an evil leader then the Government Is Bad and if you replace that evil leader with a good leader then the Goverment Will Become Good.

And there is definitely truth to the idea that an ineffective, immoral, greedy, cruel, etc. leader will generally lead to the government being worse and doing bad things, but a government is not simply the will of the person in charge taken form.

There are a few ways to think about a government, but I'd think of it like this:

A government is the services it provides, the rules it enforces, the external engagement it has, the people who decide all of that, the people who make it happen, and the fact that people agree that they are the government.

You'll see there that only one part of that is the leadership. Anyone can stand up in the middle of a town square or go on YouTube or whatever and say "I'm in charge and here are the four thousand rules that everyone needs to follow" and if they don't have legitimacy and enforcement power, it doesn't mean anything.

It also means that changing the head of state can't automatically change everything else. Most governments (especially national governments) have a large set of professional civil servants who do the business of government regardless of who is in charge, and that is a huge ship to resteer.

Often, the fastest way to resteer that ship is to literally fire everyone--and as we've seen in instances like the de-Ba'athification of Iraq, it can have massively negative impacts on the country and its ability to provide services.

There's a certain branch of fantasy that I've read where the government "is in charge" but doesn't seem to actually provide any of the services that exist in the world. There's a king or a ruling counsel or whatever--but there are no departments/ministries/public sector.

Who provides utilities? Who provides human services? Who collects taxes? Who manages the allocation of government funds? Who enforces regulations or laws? Who manages public spaces? Who delivers mail? Who prints money? Who facilitates relations with other countries? Who maintains public safety?

A lot of these stories act as though all of those things just happen, that they are self-perpetuating machines that have always existed and will always exist, and government is an unrelated piece of the world that is just there to look important and make decisions.

[poppy-metal]

i just saw your ask w angelplummie with daughters bsf art and respectfully i must ask your thoughts on dad’s bsf patrick

hhh gonna kill myself because imagine being arts daughter,,,,, growing up with patrick in your life hes like the fun uncle in your memories, dunking you in the pool, taking you on a ride in his truck, giving you noogies - it isn't long though before your thoughts aren't innocent anymore and he's not an uncle at all to you - he's a man. and you've watched him grow too, art being a teen dad - you remember him when he had no scruff on his chin - you watched him fill out - become more rugged, lose the boyish quality of his 20s and become the man you know today. hes still the same person at his core, impulsive, your fathers polar opposite in every way - fire to his ice.

your relationship shifts when you enter high-school. if only because you experience your first rebel streak. art is a good dad, but hes nervous and tight laced. the thought of you seeing boys or drinking and staying up late getting rowdy,,,,, it'd send him into cardiac arrest.

but you know patrick gets it. he was like you when he was your age, a free spirit. he still was, because thats not something that dies. and maybe that's how you develop feelings for him beyond that of a family friend. when you see a kinship there. a shared soul. you're soulmates, you're sure of it. meant to be. cut from the same cloth.

it happens in tenth grade. its not your first party but its the first time you get reckless. drink too much. things stop being as fun when boys grab at your hips and leer at you, and you feel sick. you want to go home but you know you cant call your dad. it'd break his heart to see you like this. the lecture alone would make pound against your head. you dont want to deal.

so you call patrick zweig. in your phone as 'Ricky 💗' only you were allowed to call him that. special. soulmates. he'll get it. hes been here, you're sure of it. and he wont tell. countless times he was drunk and lied to his parents about it, you bet.

you call him. he comes.

and you were right about the not telling but what you dont expect his quiet anger. you can feel it in the stillness of the car. when he pulls up to pick you up and his jaw is tight and hes tapping on the steering wheel. you think if you were more sober you'd care more about pissing him off. all you can think about is how pretty he looks in the moonlight.

"thank youuuu." you slur to him when you tumble in.

patrick flicks a look at you you're too drunk to decipher - he was smoking with his elbow propped outside the window while he waited for you. he flicks the ash out the window and turns the ignition on. "put your seatbelt on."

woah. thats gonna be a new fantasy, you think. that authoritative tone. you fumble with the belt, but your fingers look fuzzy and keep missing the hole. "no clicky." you complain.

patrick huffs and then he's leaning over his center console - his arm reaching over your body. it happens in slow motion in your head. you look down at his arm stretched out across your waist, notice the veins in his arms, the dusting of hair. thicker than when he was younger. filled out. your lips part.

he tugs the seatbelt from your fingers and clicks it into place. tugs the belt securely over your chest and his knuckles brush over your chest for the briefest moment. you inhale. exhale.

he pulls back. starts to pull out of the driveway. you say, "thank you." a full minute later, your voice small and soft.

he doesn't look your way. thats okay. you can watch his hands on the steering wheel all you want this way. the smooth glide of his palm over the wheel when he makes a turn. the idle rub of his thumb over it when hes going steady.

"how wasted are you?" he asks eventually.

you take a moment to think. try to count the alphabet backwards... yeah, no.

"pretty wstd..." you mumble. then you giggle. "wasted." you sound out the word.

patrick breathes deeply like he's purposely staying calm. "jesus." he looks at you again, a quick up and down assessment. "art cant see you like this. he'll lose his shit."

"he'll..." you hiccup. "he'll ground me foreverrrrrrr."

"your ass should be grounded." patrick snaps. "i mean, what the hell?" he says your name all disappointed and it shouldn't make you feel things but it does.

"you were doin worse at my age." you tell him.

at this, he finally laughs. more of a chuckle. a huff of amusement. his lips twist wryly. "kid, what i was doing at your age would make -" he pauses, thinks better of whatever he was about to say. "- lets just say nobody should be doing what I was doing at that age." he looks at you, "fucking especially not you."

your lips purse. "maybe i wanna be like you."

he shakes his head. "no, hun - you dont. trust me -" he grins but there's a kind of.... morose? tone to his voice. wistful almost. "you don't wanna be like me."

you frown, lips tugging down. you twist in your seat as much as your seatbelt will allow. his side profile really is something. you see hair at the nape of his neck is slightly damp - curling at the ends. he must have been taking a shower when you called - or quickly took one before he came to get you -

"i think i already am like you." you tell him honestly. the alcohol loosens your tongue. makes you more bold than you would be normally. "like, right here." you thump a hand against your chest. "on the inside." your teeth dig into your bottom lip. "i feel it. that.... thing we have."

"its called stupidity."

you shake your head. hard enough to make your brain feel knocked around.

"no, dont... dont diminish it. its not that - its like. you wanna be free - like... you were born a wolf but raised as a sheep. and you just wanna get out - run into the forest and be wild. you have that. i can see it. you try to push it down, but i see it. i see you, ricky. and i think you're cool as fuck. dont let -" you swallow. "- dont let anyone make you feel.... like you have to - have to - conform. i like who you are."

its quiet after that. patrick doesn't say anything. you watch your words run through him. see his adams apple bob. his lips work from one side to the other. hes chewing on it, you think. on what you said.

eventually he looks at you. his eyes are dark from it being night outside, but you can still see their green. his fingers tighten around the steering wheel.

"you're drunk as fuck."

but he says it like his voice is ran through gravel. rough and soft. you think what he really means is, thank you. i see you too.

you fall back against your seat and nod. you're getting sleepy.

"yeah." you agree. "i am that."

you hear him sigh. "I'll take you back to mine - tell your dad you got caught in a storm and couldn't make it all the way to his." his voice does that authoritative thing again, "but dont make this a habit, im too old for this shit."

"what're you gonna do? spank me if i misbehave again?"

he says your name in warning. once. clipped and short. so serious.

"I'll try." you tell him. "but no promises."

"you're gonna give me gray hairs."

"tuck me in when we get to yours?"

"dont fucking push it."

[klaraslevi]

Levi and the most irrelevant topics about his character

I have been seeing so much discourse in the fandom lately so I wanted to clear a few things up. I think Levi and his great character gets lost in all the pointless discourse.

His sexuality

Oh boy, you people make me irritated with this one. It was never confirmed or brought up simply because it doesn't matter, it is irrelevant as it gets especially for a character like Levi.

One thing I see poeple often bring up a is an "interview" where Isayama supposedly says that Levi like tall people and I would like to make one thing clear, that is an answer with no written down evidence or an actual translation. There is a version where Isayama says "does he like women?" And then there is another version which says "the type of women he likes?" Among 30 other translations and some fans saying that this was never even said, you cannot take this as canon, let alone give someone a screenshot from a random article online to convince people into your headcanons. This interview, be it fake or not, is not canon evidence and shouldn't be taken so seriously. In canon? Levi showed no interest in either genders. Using offical art as evidence that he is straight or gay based on way he is sitting standing or how he dresses is the dumbest thing ever and I don't even think I have to tell you why.

Bottom line: Levi has no confirmed sexuality, he could be straight, bi, gay, pan, ace etc. It is irrelevant to his character and wouldn't change a thing about him. You're free to headcanon Levi as you like just don't push it onto canon when none of us know and quite frankly, shouldn't care that much about it.

Ship wars/ships/Levi's love interest

Again, another topic that people take way too seriously. Ship wars for Levi shouldn't even exist but he is among the most popular anime characters so I suppose naturally they will. Levi doesn't have a canon love interest and no matter how much some push thier ships into canon, it won't change that fact. The shipping fandom is having fun most of the time and you actually going into thier spaces to hate on them is stupid.

Shipping community is huge and most poeple are having fun. You cannot group a whole shipping fandom into the toxic bunch which I see so many poeple do. No Eruri's, Levihan's, Rivetra's, self interests etc. aren't all bad because you saw one toxic fan send hate to people who don't ship or ship a certain pairing. People seem to forget that the person they are attacking over FICTIONAL CHARACTERS is an actual person, with hobbies and emotions. Sending someone death threats or hat over a ship they ship or don't ship makes you an asshole and shouldn't be a thing.

Fun fact: Japanese fandom has a name for poeple discussing Levi and his love life. They call it "landmine" because it's so irrelevant and poeple get so worked up over who he should/shouldn't be with rather than just acknowledging the story and his character for what it is.

Bottom line: Levi has no canon ship or a love interest. Headcanons are fine and having an opinion is too but pushing it onto canon and hating on poeple because of ships is not a way to go.

The sub or dom debate

Do I even have to explain to poeple why this is stupid?

It's mostly discourse around Levi x reader writers on here and other platforms. I am a Levi x reader writer, I have a separate blog for that but as I said many times before, those things are just my little fantasies and I never push those into Levi and his actual character. I see so many get worked up when someone sees Levi as a Dom or a sub and someone doesn't agree. This is fanfiction, it is not an analysis on his character. We don't know how Levi is during sex or if he even had sex in the first place and the fact that people actually get so worked up over it is ridiculous. This is super irrelevant, has zero baring on Levi and his decisions in canon. I have my headcanon, we all do but let's not pretend like we actually know anything about Levi in this context because we don't and it's the last thing we should focus on. None us are right, it is not that deep that someone sees Levi as a sub while you see him a Dom, trust me, this shouldn't be in discussion, it had nothing to do with canon. And who even actually cares? How does this affect Levi?

__________________________________________

Levi is a great and complex character, the fact that people let all his qualities get lost in such discourses is upsetting. We can't decide these things because we emotionally attached ourselves to a headcanon or a ship. Levi is not something because you "feel" he is, remember facts over feelings. Worrying about these irrelevant things makes Levi's character get lost in pointless and never ending debates.

[ponett]

Since you are a gamedev, do you notice any difference in how you play and critique games in comparison to how non-game developers do it?

Sometimes, yeah. I pay attention to details a lot, especially if it's something that inspires me for my own work. With pixel art games, I pay a lot of attention to where the devs choose to use bespoke sprites and scenery. I also tend to pay attention to when changes in mechanics are used to underscore a story beat. That sort of thing.

In general, I think that actually making a game and studying game design can make you better at gauging how individual design decisions contribute to the overall intended experience of a game. This can sometimes make me more understanding or even appreciative of little things that annoy the average player.

For an easy example: Lots of people complain about how you have to backtrack to a goddess statue to upgrade your health in BotW and TotK, rather than just being given a Piece of Heart. But even setting aside any discussion of the choice between upgrading your health or your stamina (or neither, if you're a masochist) that the goddess statues offer, as a designer I understand the value in making players go back to town. Maybe while the player is backtracking to town to use a goddess statue they also see that the NPCs are doing something different now due to a change in the state of the world, or a new side quest has unlocked, or they're reminded to stock up on items and use their cooking ingredients. But there's also just value in down time, offering a tonal contrast between the safety of town and the excitement and danger of the rest of the world. And the player is more likely to grow attached to a town they visit repeatedly, their home away from home within the game world, compared to a location they pass through once or twice and then never have any reason to revisit. I think as a designer I'm able to appreciate these sorts of things more, rather than just judging them as a player based on whether or not the game is "wasting my time."

This can go both ways, though. I think I've become more picky with JRPGs because I've spent so much time analyzing their specifics in the process of making my own RPG. A lot of people will look at something like Bravely Default and see them as faithful throwbacks to classic Final Fantasy with a few modern twists, but to me the differences in how those games are structured and paced and balanced are glaringly different in a way that just makes me appreciate the way the classics did things more. Or like I'll play Octopath Traveler and just hyperfixate on how the areas are all structured identically.

Granted, I don't think you NEED to have made a game to get into this sort of mindset, but it's a factor.

[yarrayora]

On Adulthood in Dungeon Meshi Universe

i've seen multiple people use math to convert the ages of fantasy races in dunmeshi into a Normal Human Age, or in this case, a tallman's, as a metric of adulthood

i feel like that's obviously an unreliable way to go about it, especially since a half-elf like marcille exists, her growth is far too slow compared to the short-lived races, and we still don't know how that compares to an actual elf. and that's when you only consider the physical aspects of it.

we have chilchuck who became a dad at age 13, a year before he could be considered of age in half-foot community. maybe with that we could assume 14 in half-foot is like 18 in tallman and do the math from there? except 16 is considered the age of maturity for tallmen in-universe. and we also have to consider whether the concept of legal age exists in dunmeshi universe, because the term of "age of maturity" used in adventurer's bible could very well refers to puberty and not what the society at large consider to be adulthood.

hell, do we even know if different cultures in different continents agree on what age is considered 'adult' even when they're of the same race? probably not! the cultures in dunmeshi universe are pretty clearly insular

for example, back in the touden siblings' hometown, being a gravekeeper is considered an ill-omen, but marcille talked about it as a respectable job falin could have taken if she didn't run off to go dungeon diving with laios

people at the island don't know that rice is a staple food in the eastern continent. and so on and so forth.

so how do we figure out whether someone is an adult or not in dungeon meshi? by figuring out their role in society

let's go back to chilchuck

it could be because adventuring is really dangerous that he retires early, but considering the reasoning provided was "in terms of age" it's more likely 26 is middle-aged or older for half-foots. although since we already find out that he's already a father of three grown adults, nobody would argue against this.

the most controversial topic regarding this whole subject seems to be marcille. was she a child when she was in magic school? was she an adult? surely because she's more of an elf than a human she's actually still a child at the age of 50! especially when an elf's age of maturity is at 80 years old!

we don't really see a lot of children getting their own roles in dungeon meshi universe, but what little we see in canon paints a picture of how children are treated there. let's focus on the orcs

orc is considered an adult at 14, Leed is 14 and she leads her own hunts. and despite their pride as a warrior race, just like every other community they don't make their young hunt for their own food.

so what we got from here is that despite only reaching adulthood recently, Zon considers his sister competent enough to be in charge.

if we use that as a metric of adulthood, then Marcille who was a teaching assistant at the magic school, has reached adulthood for quite a while now. especially when her main job involved researching illnesses, a responsibility you wouldn't hand over to a child

don't forget that a lot of those who came from long-lived races are biased against short-lived ones and dismissing their metric of adulthood

southern continent where the magic school is situated is mostly populated by gnomes and dwarves, so clearly even to them marcille is already considered an adult

even in the real world the concept of adulthood changes depending on the eras and the culture. there were times in history when it was common for 14 years old children to shoulder the responsibility of a working adult in 21st century, and that includes marriage. in japan the legal age used to be 20, and only recently changed to 18 during 2016. but that's not their age of consent either, that's their legal age for being eligible to vote

maybe centuries later when comfort and leisure become much more common in the dungeon meshi universe people will balk at the idea of a 14 years old orc being considered a full-pledged adult, but as of the standard of the year 514, marcille is an adult, and her role in society proves that