⋆｡𖦹°‧★ Hughie's the first to clock it. He can't prove it, but he knows. Soldier Boy has the emotional range of a brick except when you're in the room. If you get too close to danger, it becomes personal to him.
⋆｡𖦹°‧★ If Butcher ever found out, you'd be toast. When you bring it up to Ben, he shrugs, lights a joint, and mutters, “I’ll kick his limey ass.” He means it. He’s not afraid of Butcher, and he’d burn bridges for you, no hesitation.
⋆｡𖦹°‧★ He doesn’t sleep well but will knock out faster if you’re touching him. He gets peace of mind when your arm is draped over his hip, and your leg rests between his thighs.
⋆｡𖦹°‧★ In bed, he'll grip your waist, thumbs dragging under the hem of your shirt. His palm splays wide on your sides, stroking lines up and down.
⋆｡𖦹°‧★ Frenchie and Kimiko walked in on you once. You were perched on the bathroom sink, legs wrapped around Ben's waist while he shaved. Frenchie smacked a palm to his forehead. “I knew you liked ‘em dangerous, but mon dieu, he’s a walking war crime!" Kimiko dragged him back out by the arm, eyes wide like that was not our business. They never said a word about it.
⋆｡𖦹°‧★ Ben gives you his dog tags as a token. You find them on your pillow one morning, still warm from his skin. You wear them under your shirt.
⋆｡𖦹°‧★ Sometimes, after a bad mission or a trigger from his past, he gets quiet and stares at nothing. You’ve learned to sit close, press your forehead to his shoulder, and wait. He always comes back to you.
⋆｡𖦹°‧★ Once, when you were patching up a gash on his side, he looked at you real soft and murmured, “You’re the only damn thing in this world I’d bleed for.”
➪the one where you finally let jake take you out on a date after countless rejections, but it turns out that the guy you convinced yourself he was, isn’t who he is at all.
Warnings: smut, fluff, pda, unprotected sex, swearing, pining, oral (f receiving), jake being whipped bc i missed writing for him
Word Count: 4.7k
Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡
You weren’t sure why you had reapplied your makeup for the third time now after deciding that it didn’t look good enough. And you opted to leave your hair how it normally looked right after a shower and to not touch it, but here you were, hastily curling it as you checked the time on your phone for the fourth time since plugging in the curling iron.
None of it mattered at all. It was just a stupid date. One stupid date you promised Jake Seresin you’d go on with him, that was it.
The guy had been asking you out for months now, and you’ve shut him down every time since you knew how he was with the women who frequented the Hard Deck. He was a player, in the sky and on the ground, and you wanted nothing to do with it, which is why you’ve rejected him more times than you can count on both hands.
Yet he was persistent, the fucker. To get him to stop, you agreed to go out with him the last time you bumped into him, and that date was scheduled for tonight. In exactly four minutes, but you were planning on being late just to fuck with him, because there was no way you were going on a second date with him. No way. No.
You just finished your hair when your phone went off with a text, and you glanced down at it as you unplugged the curler and set it down on the counter.
For some reason, reading that gave you butterflies in your stomach, and you quickly typed out a response before setting your phone down and pulling on the simple black dress you picked out for tonight.
Nice. I’m not ready yet.
The dress was tight around your torso area but got looser around your thighs, and the straps were so thin, you had to wear a strapless bra so it didn’t look dumb. The hem around your chest was lace and provided a small amount of cleavage that left nothing to the imagination, so yeah. It was very simple.
After checking yourself a respectable three times, you slide on your ankle boots and grab your purse.
You wondered if Jake was annoyed that you took so long to get ready since he read your text but never responded to it, but you were wrong as you opened your front door and saw him leaning against the passenger side of his truck with a stupid fucking smile on his face. “Hey, sweetheart,” he greeted as you huffed and turned to lock the door. When you made your way over to him, Jake moved out of the way and opened the passenger door for you. “You look stunning.”
“Thanks,” you drag the word out a bit as you hop up onto the seat and place your hands on your lap as he shuts the door behind you. A few seconds later, he was sitting beside you in the driver’s seat as he put the truck into drive. “Where are we going?”
Jake grinned over at you as he flicked the radio on, and some country song began playing quietly through the speakers as he answered, “It’s a surprise. Shocking, I know, but if I’m only getting one shot at this, I’m gonna do it right,”
“Great, I love surprises,” you mumbled, looking out the window before quickly looking back at him once you further processed his words. “And there’s no if, Jake. You are only getting one shot at this.”
You weren’t sure whose head you were trying to get that through at this point.
But Jake wasn’t fazed as his grin grew. “Better make sure I don’t fuck this up then,” he said, glancing over at you. “I promise, I’ll make it count.”
He sounded so excited and he looked hot in his jeans and button up and jacket. You hated it, because you’ve seen him with other girls before, and he never put on this nice of an outfit, and he never gave them the amount of attention he’s already given you since you left your house.
And you were even more annoyed when he pulled into a parking spot right outside your favorite Italian restaurant ten minutes later. You looked at the bright sign that said the name of the restaurant with squinted eyes before looking over at Jake. “Why are we here?”
Jake looked a bit panicked for a second as he paused mid-way through taking off his seatbelt. “Is this not…I thought this was your favorite place to eat at,” he sounded nervous now and you loosened up a bit as you took off your own seatbelt.
“It is,” you confirmed, “But how did you know that?”
Jake looked more relaxed as he finally let his seatbelt go and opened the door. “Bird Boy told me,” he said and you groaned.
“Damnit, Rooster,” you muttered as you grabbed your bag and reached for the handle, but Jake was already there and opening the door for you. “I’m going to yell at him the next time I see him.” You state as you get out of the truck.
Bradley was your best friend, and the guy who had witnessed a lot of your rejections to Jake firsthand. You weren’t all that surprised that he felt a little bad for the blond and helped him out with this, because your best friend was a decent guy and one of your favorite people. But you were still going to yell at him.
“Really?” Jake laughed as he placed his hand on the small of your back and led you towards the doors of the restaurant. “Because I can’t stop thanking the guy, and that’s kind of a big deal for me.”
You huffed out a laugh in return as he guided you inside, and a few minutes later you were sitting at a booth with him with your drinks placed in front of you. Your menu was flat on the table while he held his up, his eyes flickering over the options as you subtly watched him.
“What’s good here?” He asked, “This is my first time in this place.”
You picked up your margarita with a shrug, “Everything, from what I can tell,”
Jake glanced at you over the top of his menu, his brows furrowing as he realized that you didn’t even look at your own. “What are you doing? What’s wrong?”
You set your drink down and leaned back against the booth. “I know what I’m getting. I get it every time,”
Jake’s lips turned upwards at that as he set the menu down and slid his water closer to him on the table. “Oh, you’re one of those people, huh?” He asked with a smirk as he sipped a bit of the bland drink. “You don’t like, I don’t know, trying something different?”
“If it’s not broken, don’t fix it?” You offer with a raised brow as you watch him set the water back down. “You’re seriously not drinking tonight?”
He shook his head as he closed the menu and pushed both yours and his to the edge of the table. “No. I want to be sober the whole time so I can remember this night with vivid detail. I think you deserve that,”
Your face heated up as you cleared your throat, his words doing a number on you as you sat up a bit. “What are you getting?” You quickly change the subject as you felt the sudden urge to kiss the guy you’ve been avoiding for months now.
“What are you getting?” He asked back and you narrowed your eyes as you told him your usual order. “Perfect, I’ll get that too. Maybe I’ll like it enough to order it every time I come here.”
And that was how you found yourself eating identical meals not long after, and a blush seemed to be stuck on your face as you answered every single question he had for you. Your favorite color, your favorite song, the teacher you hated most in high school, your worst dating experience, all of it.
For some reason, this wasn’t bad. This wasn’t bad at all. Talking with Jake felt easy, like you could do it all the time and never complain about it. Why was this shaping out to be kind of the perfect first date? Why was he kind of being the perfect gentleman?
He seemed so interested in you, like how he was during the build ups to him eventually asking you out. You were beginning to feel bad about constantly saying no, because you were actually having a really good time with him.
“Well?” You started as Jake asked for the bill. “How was it? Will you be returning just to order that every time?” You gestured to the empty plates in front of you and Jake shrugged as he took out his wallet.
“It wasn’t bad. Your taste in food is pretty decent,” he hummed as the waitress, who had been checking Jake out the whole night and who hadn’t been looked at by him for more than a total of six seconds, placed the bill on the table. You reached for your own wallet but he stopped you and handed you his keys instead. “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. Wait in the truck for me, okay?”
You take the keys from him and give the waitress a soft smirk as you stand up, noticing the scowl that had formed on her face as she heard the affectionate nickname Jake gave you.
Less than a minute later, Jake was beside you in his truck again as he backed out of the parking space with one hand. You were feeling a bit shy now as you looked over at him and took in just how handsome he actually is. “Thanks for tonight,” you say quietly as he pulls out onto the road. “It was kinda…it was fun.”
“You think it’s over?” He laughed softly as he glanced over at you in the dark truck. “I only get you to myself for one night, you really think I’m just taking you out to dinner?”
Your face heated up for the hundredth time tonight as you quickly broke eye contact. “Oh…where else are we going?”
Jake looked back at the road as he drove with one hand, and you were sure he wasn’t aware of just how hot that was. “To the place we first met,” he answered simply and your eyes widened a bit as you laughed.
“The Hard Deck?”
“Yeah,” he grinned over at you. “I have to show at least one person from work that I actually managed to get you to go out with me. And Bird Boy doesn’t count.”
You weren’t entirely sure why, but that had you smiling like a love struck teenager the whole ride, and when you arrived at the Hard Deck, you allowed Jake to lead you inside with his hand placed firmly on your hip.
A few of his coworkers smirked at him, a few looked beyond shocked, and then there was Bradley, who avoided eye contact with you as soon as you entered the bar. Okay, so maybe you wouldn’t be yelling at him later.
The Hard Deck was rowdy as usual, but Jake wasn’t paying attention to anyone but you, and you realized just how much you liked being the center of his attention.
And he was completely sober as he held you in his arms as the two of you swayed to an old song playing on the jukebox. He looked content and so handsome, you had to look away as you mumbled, “Okay, so maybe this isn’t so bad after all,” and pressed the side of your face against his chest. “You kind of planned the most perfect first date, Jake. I’m actually so surprised.”
Your head vibrated a bit when he laughed and tightened his hold on you as if he was scared to let you go. “Well, when you’re determined to make someone fall head over heels for you, you’ve got to put in a bit of effort,” he said and your whole body heated up in a blush. “So, uh…does this mean there’s gonna be a second date?”
You pull back slightly and look up at him. “That depends on you,” came your quiet response as you slid your hands up his back. “You’ve been the most perfect gentleman tonight, and you’ve been so sweet, but will it be like this every time? Or was this just a show for tonight?”
Jake lifted a hand and brushed some of your hair behind your ear, his thumb stroking your cheek after. “You deserve to be treated right, and I want to be the person to do that. I want to be the perfect guy for you, Y/n. You’re special to me,” he said and sounded so genuine, you had no choice but to believe his words. “Give me a chance to show you that I’m not the stuck up ladies man you think I am. I’m falling for you…and I don’t want to mess this up.”
There it was. Jake had just put his heart on his sleeve for you, and now it was completely up to you what happened next.
You press your lips together and look down at the wooden floor of the bar. “I was wrong about you. You’re not the player I thought you were. And honestly, I don’t care about how many women you’ve been with. The guy you’ve been tonight…it’s a different side of you, Jake. Or maybe it’s who you’ve been this whole time and I’ve just been too stubborn to see it,” you murmur and place your hands flat on his chest as you look back up at him. “The guy you are right now, I can see myself with him. With you. Tonight has been…perfect, in every single way. You’ve been perfect, Jake.”
There was your own confession that, early this morning, you would’ve never said out loud, but things had clearly changed.
Jake smiled and leaned down to brush his lips against yours in a teasing kiss. “You haven’t seen anything yet, sweetheart,” he whispered against your mouth before pulling back to look into your eyes. “So why don’t we skip right to the part where you agree to a second date?” He asked in a deep voice as he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you closer to him.
You laughed, looking up at him with unguarded eyes. “I think it’s safe to say you got that second date. And the third. And the fourth,” you grinned, curling your fingers around his jacket as your gaze intensified a bit. “Tell me something, does the perfect gentleman kiss on the first date? Because that teaser you just gave me wasn’t nearly enough to satisfy what I’m feeling right now.”
Jake’s smile grows before he leans down and presses his lips to yours in a searing kiss. It starts off somewhat soft, and he lets you take the lead as you kiss him a bit deeper, and then his tongue was pushing past your lips and brushing against yours.
It was clear from the kiss that he had been holding back his desire for you for months, and you suddenly didn’t regret pushing him away so much, because it allowed you to feel every inch of his want for you with every brush of his mouth against yours.
After a few more seconds, he breaks the kiss. “There you go,” he murmured, his thumb brushing against your puffy bottom lip. “But that’s just one of many. I plan on kissing the fuck out of you on every single one of those future dates.”
A content hum leaves your lips, a feeling of excitement for the future settling in your bones as you lean up and kiss him again. Soon enough you’d become addicted. You were sure of it.
Your fingers slide into his hair as the music continues to play and the patrons of the bar chat amongst themselves, not paying either of you any attention as you lose yourselves in each other.
Jake’s hands grip your waist tighter, pulling your chest against his. “You’re mine now, Y/n,” he mumbled when he finally broke the kiss after a few minutes, and you held back a squeal at just how good that sounded. “I’ll make you happy, I swear it.”
You bite down on your lip and trace the sides of his face with your fingers. “Any chance the perfect gentleman takes me to bed on the first date?” You playfully asked, but you were also very serious, even if you thought that you should probably wait to have sex. Maybe until the second date. That seemed long enough.
“Patience, baby,” he rasped, tugging at your bottom lip with his thumb. “A perfect gentleman knows how to build anticipation.”
He tucks a few strands of hair behind your ear as you hum quietly, threading your fingers through the hair on the back of his neck as you try not to squeal again at the cute pet name.
“Besides, I have a feeling you’re going to be worth the wait. I know it’ll be…fucking amazing between us,” he added, brushing another soft kiss to your lips. “Don’t worry, by the end of our second date, I’ll give it to you so good, you’ll still be sore when we go on our third date.”
You grin excitedly and nod. “It’s okay,” you whisper, “I can wait. I know that now, Jake. You’re worth the wait.”
Jake smiled down at you before kissing you one last time then taking your hand and leading you towards the bar.
-
A couple weeks, and several dates later, you and Jake are officially together and crazy in love with each other.
The realization that you had only pushed him away for so long because you were so into him was a tough pill to swallow, but when you finally got it down, you threw yourself headfirst into this relationship with him, and neither of you planned to look back.
It became official shortly after the first date, where he drove you home, kissed you sweetly, then left you wanting more. By the end of the second date, Jake stayed true to his promise and fucked you so good into his mattress, you were addicted by the time the sun came up.
You’d both been insatiable since then, which wasn’t all that surprising. The chemistry between you two had been undeniable from the start, so of course the sex was fucking amazing.
Now, having just gotten back to his place after your eighth date, you and he can’t keep your hands off one another as you stumble through his front door, your mouths connected and your hands all over each other.
You pull off his jacket and let it fall to the floor of the entryway while he helps you slide off your heels, your mouths meshing noisily together. He kicks the door shut before reaching down to grab the backs of your thighs, never breaking the kiss as he lifts you into his arms. He begins to walk towards his bedroom, his hands gripping your thighs tightly as he pulls away. “I’m gonna take you slow and deep tonight,” he mumbled against your lips. “Wanna drag it out this time.”
He was referring to the previous date, when he fucked you hard and fast into his couch while you screamed your throat raw, and the reminder of it just turned you on even more.
Jake lays you down on his bed before standing back up and working on ridding himself of his belt. You lean back on the bed, pulling your dress off to leave you in a matching black lace lingerie set that paired sinfully well with your thigh high stockings.
Leaning back on your elbows, you spread your thighs and beckon him to you with a curl of your finger. “Come here,”
Jake’s eyes darken as he takes in the sight of you. He’s seen you naked countless of times by now, but seeing you in something so effortlessly hot was something else, especially since he knew exactly what the black fabric was hiding from him.
His hands reach down to pull off his belt and he shrugs off his clothes, leaving on his boxer briefs for now and showing off just how hard you made him through the thin material.
Crawling onto the bed, he positions himself between your thighs, his lips peppering kisses along your stomach as his fingers tease the edge of your panties. “God, you’re fucking stunning,” he mumbled, running his fingers over the flimsy fabric. “Tell me, baby, were these expensive?”
You hum, looking down at him as you shrug. “A little, but not too bad,”
Jake smirked, mumbling a quick, “Good,” before he ripped the delicate fabric and tossed it aside, revealing your slick folds to his needy eyes.
“Jake!” You gasped, your eyes widening as his big hands gripped the backs of your thighs and spread your legs a bit wider.
“I’ll buy you more, one in every color,” he promised, grinning up at you before looking back down at your heat. He runs his fingers through your wetness, a satisfied hum leaving his mouth, “You’re so wet for me, baby. All for me.”
Then he was burying his face between your thighs, his tongue poking out to lick a stripe up your entrance before sucking on your clit. “Oh, fuck,” you whined and he groaned, sending a jolt of pleasure up your body. You shuddered, your muscles tightening as you reached down to tangle your fingers in his hair. “Just like that, Jake. Feels so good.”
Jake’s tongue pressed more firmly against your clit while his fingers gathered more of your wetness before sinking knuckle-deep inside you. He fucks them in and out of you as his teeth gently nip at your sensitive bundle of nerves, and you fell back onto his pillow as he devoured you.
The sight of you looking already so fucked out with your hair draped across his pillow had him refraining from bucking his hips against the bed, because it was something he had been dreaming about seeing for months. He was still kind of shocked that he could now see it whenever he wanted.
“Fuck,” you gasped, arching your back as he guided your legs to rest over his shoulders. Your fingers were pulling on his hair pretty hard, and he fucking loved it. He loved every single second he spent with you, and he couldn’t get enough of your sweet taste, your soft moans and the fact that you had finally, finally given him the chance he’s been craving for so long.
You were finally his, and he was never letting you go.
“Cum for me,” he mumbled, flicking your clit with his tongue as he curled his fingers deep inside you. “Cum all over my face, baby. Let me taste it.”
If there was one thing Jake knew how to do, it was to spew the most filthy fucking things to you. And he knew you loved it. He found that out pretty quickly the first time he took you to bed, and he was more than willing to delve into your desire for dirty talk.
Like he suspected, your mouth parted in a loud moan as you tugged harshly on his hair, and a second later you were coming on his tongue and fingers. “Jake…holy fuck, baby,” you moaned as you writhed against his face. “Fuck…feels so fucking good.”
The taste of you on his tongue makes him groan, and he continues to ravish your pussy until you’re shaking and whimpering incoherently. Once you settled a bit, Jake lifted his head, his lips and chin soaked with your release as he grins up at you and begins to place kisses along your stomach while he pushes his boxers down.
He hovers over you, his hands squeezing your breasts through your bra as he teases your quivering heat with the tip of his cock. “I need you, baby,” he mumbled, reaching down to grip his base as he coats himself in your arousal before slowly pushing inside you. “Fuck, you’re tight.” He groaned, dropping his head to your shoulder as he started to slowly rock into you.
His hand moves from your chest to grip your hips as he picks up the speed a bit, his body fitting perfectly against yours with each deep thrust,
“There you go,” he rasped, kissing along your neck. “Take it all, baby, every inch.”
You moan loudly as you arch your back, and you guide his hands around you to the clasp of your bra. “Fuck, Jake, you feel so good,” you whimpered, wrapping your legs tightly around his waist.
Jake hums, expertly unclasping your bra before guiding the straps down your arms, all while keeping the pace of his thrusts. His eyes immediately lock onto your breasts, now bare to his dark eyes as they bounce with every movement. “You’re a fucking dream,” he mumbled, leaning down to wrap his lips around one of your nipples as he rocks his hips against yours. “You make me lose control, every single time.” He grunted through ragged breaths, his cock brushing against every hidden spot deep inside you.
“Jake,” you moan desperately, guiding his mouth to yours in a messy kiss. “I love you.”
He groans, kissing you again as he feels himself close to coming already because you felt that fucking good. “I love you, too,” he rasped, his words muffled against your mouth. “So fucking much.”
You moaned, tugging on his hair as you lazily met his thrusts halfway. “I’m close,” you mumbled and he groaned in both pleasure and relief as he reached down to rub circles against your clit.
“Me too,” he muttered, pinching and pulling at your bundle of nerves. “Cum with me, baby. Let go for me.”
A few seconds later, you were coming for a second time, but on his cock, and a couple thrusts later, he was too. He filled you up as his body shuddered, his lips pressing soft kisses to your neck as he fucked his seed deep inside you.
Once you were both spent, he collapsed gently on top of you, keeping his cock lodged inside you as he cuddled you against his chest. “Stay with me tonight,” he begged quietly, turning you both on your sides and tucking your head under his chin.
You smiled, nuzzling against his sweaty chest. “Where else would I be?”
Jake smiled back, pulling you impossibly closer. “What about tomorrow? Will you stay here tomorrow, too? We can have breakfast in bed,” he offered with a teasing grin on his lips.
You hummed, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “Pancakes or waffles?” You ask instead of answering him, confirming that you will be staying at his place for the remainder of the weekend.
“Pancakes,” he replied, pulling back to press a chaste kiss to your lips. “And bacon. A fuckton of it.”
Even though this wasn’t the first time you would be spending the night in his arms, Jake still felt beyond happy that, after months of pining over you, he was given the chance to experience life with you. He was also really fucking excited to spend tomorrow morning with you in his bed.
“I’ve wanted this for so long,” he mumbled, holding you a bit tighter. “Wanted you.”
You go silent for a few seconds before pulling back to press a soft kiss to his lips. “I’m sorry I made you wait so long,” you whispered, tracing the curve of his bottom lip with your finger. “Truthfully, I didn’t think it could be this good. I was so wrong.”
Jake shakes his head, taking your hand in his and pressing a few kisses to your knuckles. “Don’t be sorry,” he said quietly. “It was worth it, all of it, if it meant we’d end up like this. Together.”
He leaned down to kiss you deeply, and you returned it instantly. “I love you,” you mumbled against his lips as you gently gripped his face.
“I love you, too,” he said back and meant it with his whole heart as he rolled you onto your back again and settled on top of you.
Because without a doubt, his heart had been entirely yours since the second he saw you, and he knew that, he was just finally able to make you see it too.
soldier boy x fem!reader cw 99% fluff, implied nsfw (mdni), age gap (reader is implied to be around hughie’s age so significantly younger than ben), not proof read + written on my phone so the formatting may be shit
summary behind closed doors, ben can be gentle
notes i lied in my last post i have a lab report due on monday that i haven’t been to any lectures for 😔 also this might be ooc but i like to believe that the “i didn’t mean to hurt those people” line is the closest we’ve gotten to seeing his actual personality underneath all the gravitas so i took that and ran with it lol
before you met ben, you were warned about him. as one of hughie’s close friends, you’d been dragged into the whole homelander situation when he’d shown up at your apartment covered in blood. after that, he’d been unable to stop you from sticking your nose in where it arguably didn’t belong, and he was so glad you did.
until, for some unknown reason, you fell for soldier boy of all people.
luckily (or unluckily, in hughie’s case. god, he’d never let you hear the end of this), your feelings didn’t go unrequited. somewhere between buying him takeout and weed and teasing him about his awful clothing choices, the two of you had struck up a bond. it was a weird bond, one that comprised primarily of teasing and raunchy flirting on his part, but you wouldn’t change it for the world. somehow he’d become your person.
and yet, that wasn’t the strangest thing. the strangest thing was finding out that beneath the gruff exterior and ego, in the comfort of your apartment with nobody else around, ben was gentle.
when he wasn’t fucking you into next week for the third time in the same hour, he’d hold you close to his chest. his hands would find your waist while you were cooking. he’d tuck your hair behind your ear while you slept on his chest, turning down the tv so that it wouldn’t wake you. he’d tell you stories of his glory days while you did odd bits and bobs around the apartment. he’d hum tunes from the fifties and sixties to calm you after a horrific nightmare.
of course, he wasn’t always gentle. he was relentless in the bedroom, and the second someone else was around his walls were back up again. but those walls were cracked. the longer you were around him, the more the ben that you knew would shine through.
nobody believe you, of course, and hughie called you fucking insane on more than one occasion for even implying that soldier boy could be soft. but you knew. you had the images imprinted in your mind of his chin resting on your shoulder, the deep rumble of his voice as you laid spent on his chest telling you how good you were, the way he looked at you with eyes full of something akin to awe.
somewhere, between eating you out ‘til you were on the verge of fainting and giving himself the job of your protector, he’d grown a soft spot for you. despite his annoyed grumbles, you felt the way his hands rested on your hips lightly, applying just enough pressure to so that you could feel him. everything was measured, calculated, gentle.
you were fragile to him. precious, like a dove. his light in the darkness. his person. you’d wormed your way into his cold heart with kind words and soft kisses that he was adamant he didn’t deserve, and there was no way he was letting you go, no matter how soft he became.
content: yapper reader, talk of sex because this is ben we're talking about, old man coded ben, age gap kind of mentioned but you could ignore it, slight ooc ben maybe, fluff
word count: 1k
note: this fits into the universe with the reader from "it will come back" but could definitely be read on its own. this is inspired by the song "talk too much" by queen renee rapp and myself because i am a yapper by nature.
masterlist
----
You were making that face again. The one you made when you were having a silent conversation with yourself, or when you were listening to those smut audiobooks you seemed to love so much. Taking in your lack of headphones, Ben went for the former option.
You and Ben had been having a normal -- or as normal as you could possibly get with an over one-hundred year old supe -- morning, complete with fresh-brewed coffee and omelets made by you. When he had swiped up the morning paper you had brought in for him, you knew he wanted to be left alone to read the headlines. Well, left alone with the occasion scoff of “fuckin’ pussies” at a particularly progressive story.
You were happy to sit next to him and read along. You had gotten comfortable being in his presence after the many months together. You were something of a couple, though it had never been said out loud by either of you. You both just eased into it.
Somewhere between a story on the local shelter hosting a bake sale and a murderer at large you had zoned off, eyes floating to the floor. You were thinking too much again.
Ben watched you out of the corner of his eyes, pursing his lips when you made a face of disgust. It was quickly replaced with a pout and your eyes narrowed. Okay, enough of this. He couldn’t take it anymore.
“What’s on your mind, doll?” Ben asked, pulling the newspaper taut to keep it from folding over. You shot your attention to him, looking up at him with wide eyes that told him you knew you had been caught.
“Nothing.” You answered quickly, nestling into his side. You hoped this would distract him, make him think more about your hand brushing against his bicep rather than your ability to overthink.
“You were obviously thinkin’ about something.” He argued, squinting his eyes at a black-and-white picture of a giraffe. You scrunched your nose at him and he was tempted to kiss the pout off your face.
“How do you know I was thinking? Maybe I was just staring at the wall.” You defended. It was a weak argument. Ben had gotten to know you too well, much more than you had gotten to know him, thanks to your near constant flow of words to him. You just liked talking and most times he was happy to listen.
“That mind’s always running, sweetheart.” He smirked and tapped a finger on the side of your head. You tried to duck away, but the action only resulted in your head bumping against his shoulder.
“It is not. I can have an empty brain.” You knew it was a lie. Even when you were sleeping you were still thinking of something.
“Only time it’s empty is when I get you all cockdrunk. Now,” Ben raised his eyebrows, “what were you thinking about?”
You would have argued back, but you knew it was true. He knew all the right buttons to push to get you all but babbling nonsense at him while he fucked you. You dropped your eyes to the table.
“Well,” you started, stalling, “I was trying to figure out if I like you.” You realized exactly what you had said after it came out, your mouth running faster than your brain. You whipped your head back to look at him. He was giving you a confused look and you felt the need to explain yourself.
“Not that I don’t like you. I just don’t know if I like like you. Well, I do like like you, but maybe I could like like like you, you know?” You sputtered out. Ben opened his mouth to talk, but you beat him to it.
“No, you probably don’t. Did people talk like this in the forties? Or wait, the eighties? What time are you from? Oh my gosh, you’re old. What would people think about us together?”
Then you suddenly looked horrified.
“What would my mother think about us?” You quickly moved into contemplation. “I mean, I don’t care too much what she thinks. She can be a bitch sometimes.” Immediate regret.
“Not a bitch!” You blurted out. “She’s not a bitch!” You took in a steadying breath. “I love my mother, she just can just ask too many questions sometimes. But I guess that’s better than her being dead.” Your face morphed into sadness.
“I don’t want my mother to die. I can’t live without her.” You thought about what you said and decided it made you seem co-dependant on her. “Well, I can, but I don’t want to.” That was when you caught Ben’s amused look. You frowned.
“Do I talk too much?” You asked, though the answer was clear. Ben opened his mouth, again, but, again, you cut him off.
“Actually, don't answer that. I don’t know if I could handle the answer.” You cringed at the childish tone of your words. “I mean, I could handle it, because I’m an adult. But you know that. Of course you know that. We do adult things all the time. Not that we only do adult things, but-,”
Ben decided to put you out of your misery. He grabbed at your face, squishing your cheeks together with one hand to prevent you from speaking any more. You looked at him with those wide, baby deer eyes he loved so much.
“You don’t talk too much.” He said calmly and placed a kiss right on your lips. He hoped that would be the end of it and he could get back to his paper. You smiled gratefully when he let go of your face and cuddled back into him.
“Thank you, Ben.”
Unfortunately, that inspired a new spill of words.
“Wait, do you like Ben or Soldier Boy better? I know Ben was your name from before, but most people call you Soldier Boy. Of course, I’m not most people, but what do you like more?”
“Oh God,” you breathed out, “I should have asked months ago. What if I’ve been using the wrong name this whole time? You probably hate me now.”
Ben sighed and let you ramble on. You would tire yourself out eventually.
Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, established realtionship, the tiniest amount of fluff and angst, just pure, raw smut (fingering, p in v sex, choking)
Summary/Warnings: Request from an anon! After you get drunk and expose your secret relationship with Ben, you know there will be consequences. Good thing they seem to be the fun kind.
Author's Note: I'm putting this one in the 60s-ish. It is very horny. Enjoy!
Word Count: 5k
This is a disaster.
You barely drink. It takes half a bar to get you drunk at all. You rarely have the patience or time to get to buzzed, let alone wasted.
Stumbling and tripping over your heels and words, the world is vibrant and bright but also a little hazy—like watching it through a thin, shimmering layer of fog—and loose-lipped, giggly, wasted.
Curled up in a booth with your normal, non-supe friends and whispering about nothing wasted. The room is spinning and turning but you’re too engrossed in how funny the word squirrels sounds wasted. One of your friends always keeping a hand on your shoulder, or an arm around your body, because one wrong ditzy smile or mention of him, and you’ll start to float upwards fucking wasted.
And they know that.
And you’d been really drunk. It was the weekend, and it was a celebration of something—you didn’t really remember what—and you’d been so fucking drunk, so when one of your friends asked how’s Ben with a teasing grin, you’d almost ascended just from the sound of his name.
You think you said he was perfect. Actually, you know you said he was perfect. Despite the entire night being hidden behind a shifting curtain of your drunken brain, you know exactly what you’d said about Ben, word for word.
Because it’s printed on the front page of the news. A massive quote of Soldier Boy settles down with B-list Hero? In big, black letters, accompanied by a very handsome picture of Ben, and a smaller, poorly lit photo of you.
An inside source tells us that, last night in uptown Manhattan, Vought’s own second list super-heroine Hurricane revealed that she and Soldier Boy have been going steady for over a year, and proved herself to be quite smitten with American’s Son.
You’d always hated that title for him. Ben was not America’s Son. He was more in line with America’s very grumpy father, and you were not a second list hero. You had the third highest save rate, and you’d only been at Vought for two years. You’d caught up with everyone in the first three months, and surpassed the rest by the end of the summer. You’d been warring back and forth with Liberty—the snide, conniving, weirdly possessive over Ben and hateful bitch—for second place for about a year now.
If fact, if you counted non-criminal saves—aiding people with their daily troubles, helping people who were in crisis, offering aid to charities and foundations—you were only a dozen or so behind Ben.
He says that’s why he noticed you. He says he’d seen how close you were creeping up behind him after only a year, how fast the gap between him and second place was closing, and he’d been furious but intrigued. Then he’d always say that he went to find you to snap that you should calm the fuck down and stop acting like you own this place, but you’d been so damn beautiful he’d forgotten how to breathe.
“I’d known you’d be mine right fucking there.” He’d grumble, his lips latched to your neck and his arms caging you against the wall. “I see a lot of hot fucking women, baby, but you’re the only one who’s made me look twice.”
You’d always giggle, run your hands through his hair, and try not smile like too much of an idiot into the air. “You know, you can’t be positive I didn’t just steal the air out of your lung on-“
Ben would swallow your words with a deep, rough kiss, shove his knee between your thighs, and chuckle at your high whine.
“I’m real damn sure,” he’d grunt your name, guiding you to grind against him as he spoke. “Because that shit doesn’t work on me, doll, and you fucking know it.”
“I-“ You’d gasp, pulling at his hair and squirming in his grip. “You’re getting cocky again-“
“You fucking love it.”
God, you did. You loved him. He’s full of shit, and you know he’s full of shit—he hadn’t been awestruck by you, he’d marched up to you, told you that you were a fucking problem, and then walked away—but you don’t love him any less for it. If anything, you love him more. He’s honest. You’ve never seen him be anything but himself, and it was a little like a sanctuary. Ben would tell you if you were being dramatic about something if you were in the wrong, or he’d threaten to chop off the balls of whoever had hurt you with such a violent fervor in his eyes if he knew you were right.
You feel bad a little for whoever one day pisses you off enough to let Ben loose on them.
He’d make sure your ideas were heard and implemented, when nobody was listening to you, then point at you when someone congratulated him on it and snap it was her fucking idea, you pussy-faced cock gobbler. Thank the lady then keep fucking working.
He’d bring you silent gifts every time he stepped over the threshold of your apartment. He’d fuck you like an animal in your bedroom, then hold you in the dark like you were something priceless. He’d put a hand on your thigh under the table, when meetings got too heated and you were in danger of quite literally flying at some dumbass who thought he was smarter than you.
And he did keep you secret, but you’d never protested. It had been your idea to begin with, and maybe you’d expected him to one day grunt at you that this dumb fucking secret shit is over, you’re my date to the movie tomorrow night, but he never had.
You’d go to all the red carpets separately, he’d track you down in the bathroom and fuck you on the sink—muttering low, dirty praise about how good you were taking him, how everyone was going to be able to fucking smell his cum filling you up, how you looked so fucking gorgeous in that dress and you were trying to damn kill him—before you parted ways and acted like co-workers for the rest of the night, right up until he showed up at your apartment as the after party settled down.
And you could’ve had him like that for a million years. If it was all he could give you, you’d take it and worship it and never try to make him more than he was. He was already, arguably, too much. But he was yours. He didn’t fuck other women—he hardly even looked at them—and it had never mattered what the vultures of the press said, you’d known Ben was yours, and that was all that mattered.
But now you’re staring at the paper, re-reading the article over and over like the words could suddenly change and nothing would be wrong, and for the first time, you’re afraid.
Not of Ben. Never of Ben.
Of how you’re going to lose him.
Because you’d been explicit. Vulgar. Incredibly detailed in ways you never were while sober.
Hurricane described in great deal her alleged sex life with the Golden Hero, claiming him to be a firm but generous lover, using a multitude of words not suited for publication. Our source details how she’d claimed that she reaches climax about “four times a night,” and that she wants to “marry his and have all his stupid, giant babies.” Multiple times throughout the conversation, Hurricane called Solider Boy the “best thing that ever happened to her,” and said she’d “jump off a cliff if he asked her to.”
If these claims are true, should the public prepare for an upcoming great American wedding? Or is Hurricane speaking of a one-sided obsession? Solider Boy has rarely been seen in public with the air-powered supe, and there is no evidence but her alleged word that they are anything more than co-workers. If Hurricane is lying-
You have to stop reading there, or you might choke on your own spit and fear. You’re not lying. It’s not alleged, it’s real and you meant every word of it, but Ben wasn’t supposed to know that. He was supposed to take the lead about where you went, and you were supposed to trail in his wake, admiring the way his skin seemed to sometimes be golden, and bask in how when he looked at you there seemed be something flaring and catching light in his eyes that was never there for anyone else.
You mean something to him. You know he sees you as more than a body. Ben calls you his girl, and his jaw twitches when a Vought suit or lower-level hero tries to flirt with you, and he has all the money in the world but he touches you like you’re the most valuable thing in his life.
You’re not sure how you’re going to face this. You have to face this—it’s the front fucking page, and it’s a mess, and you’re solely responsible—but you don’t want to. You want to fly up to space and never come down, or sink into the floor, or seal all the doors and windows and never leave.
And you know none of that would work. Ben would launch himself after you and you’d slam into his gravity because you didn’t know how not to. He’d pull you up from your self-inflicted grave without breaking a sweat. He’d kick and pry the doors open no matter how tight you sealed them, crashing into your apartment with an animalistic look in his eyes, his arms flexing and attention all on you, before picking you up and cradling you without a word because he was bad at them, but he did care.
Ben really did care.
And you can’t face him.
But you have to go to work.
And you hope you’ll just vanish off the face of the earth before you can enter the building, but the universe doesn’t seem to like you all that much today, so instead you’re barely a foot through the door before Legend his standing in front of you, brows raised and voice firm.
“Hurricane.”
“I, uh,” You swallow. “Yeah. Hi.”
His face doesn’t even move an inch. “I believe we need to talk, girl.”
“Do we?” Your voice is barely a squeak, and you really wish everyone would stop fucking looking at you. “I don’t- um- Look, I swear I didn’t-“
“My office.” Legend snaps. “Now.”
All you can do is nod and shuffle behind him, feeling a little like a child in trouble. You can feel all their eyes, almost hear the judgmental expressions and thoughts, the bitter and withering fears you’d been harboring in your chest since Ben asked you out—although it was more like he said you were smoking hot and he wanted to fuck you, you’d told him he’d need to try harder than that, and then the next day he’d shown up with more roses than you could hold in your hands and said you were hot, and interesting, and he wanted to fuck you put he wasn’t going to do it until you were begging him for it—coming to life in a loud and suffocating cloud around you.
You know he’s out of your league. Ben’s out of everyone’s league. He’s more than a god, he’s something primordial that crawled out of the earth just to guard it with his whole fucking existence.
And when you sit in Legend’s office, it feels even more certain that this is the end of more than just the love of your life. It’s so drastic, how much higher and better Ben is than you are, that there’s no way they’ll allow you to just say he’s yours. The public would never want him to be yours, because they can see it too. Everyone can see how unworthy you are-
“You get three minute to explain yourself.” Legend mutters, settling in his big, velvet chair, spinning a pen in his hands. “But you better have a top of the line reason for fucking around and claimin’ all that, or we’re going to be revisiting your tenure here. Go.”
Every breath you take is thin in your lungs. You need to speak, but no words are coming out. His chair is a throne, and the pen is an executioner’s axe, and you whole life is on a thread that depends on you speaking, but you can’t-
“I-“
There’s a crashing sound outside, a roar that sound like a lion or dragon or avenging angel, and Legend looks away from you with a shocked expression—which for him, means genuine interest flashing in his gaze and a twitch near his eyes—as Ben crashes through the door.
“Mr. Solider Boy, sir-“ Legend’s receptionist is scrambling behind him, her voice high and frantic. “You- He’s in a meeting- You’re not supposed-“
“Shut the fuck up, Mary.” Ben grunts, and the receptionist’s snaps closed. You mouth think she’s shocked he knows her name. “And close the damn door, Legend and I need to have a fucking chat.”
You swallow, starting to push to your feet, but Ben’s faster. His hands grasp your shoulders, pushing you back down into your chair, and they rest there as he glowers at Legend.
“Ben,” Legend sighs. “I told you we’d be meeting later-“
“And I told you there’s no way you’re talking to my girl without me there,” Ben hisses, his hands squeezing on your shoulders, and you’re a little dizzy.
His girl.
Not a secret, but still Ben’s girl.
And suddenly nothing really feels all that faraway or terrifying at all.
“I understand this is distressing for all of us-“
“Oh, fuck off and eat my fucking ass,” Ben rolls his eyes, leaning slightly over your body as he leers at Legend. He’s really warm. “You don’t know what in goddamn Christ you’re talking about, Legend, and you’re being a pussy fucking idiot-“
“Ben-“
“I said fuck off.” He growls your name, and it’s not at you. It’s like a wolf snarling and snapping at a threat to their pack. “She didn’t do a goddamn thing wrong, and you’re going to make her give herself a fucking aneurysm, so calm the fuck down and listen when I tell you to just fucking drop it, or I’ll carve your brain out of your skull and fucking feed it to you.”
Legend doesn’t flinch. He only tilts his head, scanning over Ben with an odd expression. “What have you been offered, Solider Boy, to defend her-“
Ben scoffs. “I can’t be fucking bribed, you dick-headed asswhore, I goddamn love this woman-“
It hits you like a freight train. Explosive and fast and brutal, irreversibly changing everything in your body until it all just a crumpled pile of Ben.
“You-“ Your voice is hoarse, and you lean back to look at him with wide eyes. “You love me?“
“Of course I fucking love you, shut up and-“ he grabs your hand, pinning it to the chair. The world had gotten so light, and you’d started to float, and Ben was keeping you there. With him. And he loved you. “Don’t lose your damn mind. Let me save your fucking job-“
“I love you too,” you whisper, and that manages to air its way through his fury.
“I know that. Stop flying.” Ben turns back to Legend, and you think he’s somehow taller. “You fire her, you lose me.”
That makes Legend’s face twitch again, and his eyes dart to you for only a second. You’ve seen that expression before, during meetings or negotiations that weren’t quite going his way.
He weighing his options. Trying to work out if Ben is bluffing.
Legend should know better.
Ben doesn’t bluff.
His hand still squeezing with carefully measured pressure on your shoulder, and his gaze is firm, and he’s not a liar. Ben has many, many vices—fractured and chipped and defunct parts of him you love just as much as the shining titanium that makes up the rest of him—but lying is not one of them.
If anything, Ben only ever doubles down.
“Don’t be a damn idiot,” he drawls, his words casual but his gaze on Legend a silent promise of violence. “The people fucking love it. They love her. She scores higher points with younger demos, and America loves love. They’ll love us. so I don’t know why you’re being such a pussy-brained motherfucker, but she is the best goddamn thing to happen to this company in fucking years.”
You think you’re going to ascend. That all the dizzying light and joy that Ben always silently plants in your body is going into bloom and rocketing up to the sun with his every word, and you have no choice but to rise up to that high, clouded but bright heaven with them. It’s a place born of Ben’s love. It hazy, pastel clouds, but they’re sturdier and more certain than anything else has ever been. You could build something here, known it would never crumble because Ben really, truly loves you. Even Legend’s skeptical expression and cool words can’t drag you down from down this.
And what they trigger only launches you further upwards.
“They’ll have to actually believe it,” Legend snips. “If we are going to allow this-“
Ben’s hand glide over your throat to grab your chin, he tips your head back, and kisses you. Deep and rough and heavy. The type of kiss he’s only ever given you behind a locked door, where he’s folding himself over you and invading your every sense, because now you’re pliant and moaning, and everything is Ben. Reaching up to try and tug on his hair and urge him further, grabbing his forearm for balance despite sitting down, making a strangled sound that’s meant to be his name when he presses his tongue down your throat-
He pulls back, presses a smaller, dangerously sweet kiss to your brow, and looks back to Legend.
“That fucking believable enough?”
You’d like to see Legend’s expression, but your gaze is trapped on Ben. His hand is still on your chin, grip relaxed as his thumb trails over your lower lip—you’re not sure he knows he’s doing that—and you can see the exact place on his jaw that you want to try and suck a mark on, even if it’s never worked before. His brows are raised in a challenging question as he stares down Legend, and his hair looks soft, and when he licks his lips slightly it sets off a million little sparks in your lower stomach-
“Ben.” You whisper, and he looks down at you with a frown.
“Wha-“
“Please.” You squeeze his arm, and he tenses behind you. “I- Please.”
A smirk creeps over his lips, and you think someone coughs, but they’re not Ben so it doesn’t really matter.
“You need me right now, sweet girl? Can’t even fucking wait, need me to fucking ruin you in the goddamn office-“
“I- You-” you squirm in your chair, reaching up to try and tug him back down to your level. “Stop being mean-“
He chuckles, but doesn’t move an inch. “You know I’m not being mean. You’ve seen me be fucking mean,” he drawls your name, and if he doesn’t move soon, you’re going to explode. “I’m just waiting for you to beg me fucking properly-“
“Please, Ben, please-“
“Please what.”
You’re past dignity, or trying to spar back and forth with him on this. He said he loves you. He said it, then kissed you like that, and nothing in the world is more important than feeling him all around you and over you and in you-
“Fuck me, Ben, please-“
There’s that same cough again, but you don’t really hear it. You can’t really hear anything but your heartbeat in your ears as Ben’s face splits into a wide, almost feral grin, and you won.
He slams his mouth back down to yours, grabbing you by the waist in a second and hauling you up to his chest—your legs wrapped around his torso as you shamelessly grind onto his stomach—and holding you there as his kiss turns starved and brutal, like he hasn’t done this almost every night for the past year.
You’re not complaining. With just his mouth almost molded into yours, one hand fisted in your hair while the other holds you steady against his body, and grunts that you can feel vibrate in his chest, you’re wrecked and whimpering in his arms. You need more. He’s everywhere but it’s not enough, and you’re aching and burning under his touch but it’s not enough-
Ben breaks the kiss when you start to scratch at his shoulders, and you take a ragged, sudden breath. You’d forgotten you needed to breathe, and the rush of air is sending you so high-
He starts to attack your neck and shoulders, tugging at your supe costume to continue his dizzying assault on your skin, and you wrap your arms around his neck in desperate attempt to not fly out of his hold. Ben’s own grip tightens in response—he knows how close you are, just from his kiss and touch, he always knows so you so well—and you squeak his name when he bites at your neck-
“Alright. I got it.” Someone’s talking that’s not Ben. Legend. You’d forgotten he existed at all. “It’s not fake, you’ll be dating, fine. You two can stop now-“
“Get out of my office.” Ben grunts, and Legend sighs.
“We’ve been over this, Soldier Boy, it’s not your-“
Ben pushes you down on the desk, rips off your shirt, starts to kiss over your breast with a possessive growl that sends a shiver up your spine, and Legend groans.
“Fine.” You’re vaguely aware of something shuffling around, but Ben’s rubbing a thumb over your nipples through your bra, and you’re incredibly focused on just holding on. “No messes.”
Neither of you make any promises, and you don’t think no messes is possible. Not as Ben shoves his hand into your panties the moment the door closes, tearing off your bra and lowering his mouth to suck and bite along your breasts.
“I-“ You gasp, your hands shooting to grip at his hair when two rough fingers shove right into your cunt, starting to pump in a smooth, unyielding rhythm. “God, fuck-“
“Say my name, baby,” he grunts, flicking his tongue over a nipple, working you into a frenzy as his fingers bump that deep spot and crook against it- “Say my fucking name and I’ll ruin you like you fucking deserve-“
“Please-“ You squeak as his thumb finds your clit, just pressing as he starts to kiss down your stomach. “Ben, please-“
“There she goes.” Ben nips at your stomach as he lowers himself further, an arm wrapping around your waist to pin you down when the remainder of your clothing is torn from your body and his fingers still, leaving you grinding hopelessly against his hand and gasping for air as a warm breeze picks up in the room. “Want my cock, sweetheart? Going to fucking beg for it like the pretty little slut you are, so fucking needy-“
“I’m-“ You gasp as he bites at your inner thigh, and you can feel his grip tighten again as your hair starts to float around your head. “Just for you, Ben, just need you, please-“
“Such good manners,” he drawls, pressing one, mockingly sweet kiss to your clit as he shoves your knees further apart. “So fucking wet, too. Anyone else get you like this, sweet girl-“
You shake your head, bucking your hips up into the air. “No- Never anyone else, just you-“
“That’s fucking right.” He growls, his thumb pressing to your clit, his breath warm over your cunt. “You’re all fucking mine-“
“Yours,” you gasp. “Ben, please-“
He rises back up, pinching your clit as his mouth crashes back into yours and groaning your name when you writhe against him.
“Christ on a fucking cross, baby-“
“Ben-“ Your snake your hand between when his body is wrapped over yours, palming at him through his pants. “More, need more-“
“Always fucking give you more,” he grunts, pulling your hair until your head tips further back with a whine. “Need to wait, use those pretty fucking manners-“
He cuts himself off with a groan as the wind starts to tear through the room, and you shove your hand into his pants, wrapping your hand around his dick and stroking it until his hips rut up into you-
Ben catches your wrist, and before you know what’s happening you’re flat on your back, your hands pinned over your head and Ben’s face hovering inches over yours.
“I said fucking wait.” He hisses, and you swallow. “You pull that shit and I’m going to blow all that cum you love so much on your fucking hand. Is that what you want?”
You shake your head, grinding up into where you can feel him, pressed right on your inner thigh.
“Words-“
“No.” Your words are breathy and desperate, and you don’t care. “Ben-“
“What do you want?” His tone is mocking, a smirk pulling at his lips, and God, he’s such an asshole but you fucking love him-
“You, want you, Ben-“
He hums, dropping the full weight of his hips over yours and chuckling at your high whine when the head of his cock bumps at your clit. “What do you want me to do-“
“Fuck me,” there’s no hesitation in your voice. With Ben, there never is. “Want your cock, Ben, please-“
It’s all he needs. Ben slams into you with one movement, but doesn’t move. He just splits you open beneath his and grins at your dazed expression, the head of him pressed right on that spot and fuck, he needs to move-
“Need a second, pretty girl?”
“I- move-“ You squeeze around him, pride glowing in your chest at the low, rumbling groan it draws from his chest. “Ben-“
He gives one rough thrust, pulling all the way out before slamming back in, and you let out a high, strangled sound of need.
“Say you’re mine.” He growls, repeating the movement, a little faster. “Tell me who fucks you this good, who you fucking love, who makes you a cockdrunk, needy little slut-“
He’s makes another thrust with every demand, and the euphoria of Ben all around and in you is like a truth serum. If you wanted to lie, you couldn’t.
This feels too fucking good.
“Yours Ben, I’m yours, it’s only you,” you gasp as he bruises against that one spot, his mouth diving down to suck at your neck. “Always you, just you, I love you, please-“
That snaps him. Ben starts to fuck you, really, properly fuck you, your hands still trapped above you and his cock bruising your cervix as he hammers into your dripping cunt, letting your scratch and claw at his broad, muscled back and whine his name as his balls slap on your ass and his free hand plays with your tits until you’re writhing and gasping below him-
“Fucking mine.” He grunts, his thrusts never breaking pace as you hurl towards release. “So fucking desperate for me, baby, nobody’s gonna fuck you like I do, fucking love you, love this pretty fucking pussy, such a good girl for me, squeezing my cock so fucking tight-“
You make a strangled sound that’s supposed to be his name, and Ben swallows it with his mouth over yours.
“Need to cum in you, baby,” he growls down your throat, his hand gliding your body to rest over your throat. “Need to fucking fill you up, let everyone know you’re fucking mine-“
You nod a little stupidly, a white-hot coil wound so tight in your stomach, so close to snapping-
Ben pushes up off of you, reaching an inhuman, abusing and perfect pace in your cunt, and right as the coil burst like starlight through your body, he squeezes his hand around your throat with just the right amount of pressure to drag the mind-numbing pleasure on and on, letting you ride your orgasm as he roars your name and comes with one last slam of his hips.
He tugs you back to his chest as you both come down, knowing far better than you let your body go when you’re still light-headed and drunk on how warm you feel. Full of Ben and used by him in the best possible way, and he loves you, he’s said it two times now and that’s real.
Ben drags two fingers through your dripping, still fluttering pussy, stuffing his cum back inside of you—a tiny ritual he always seems to do for himself, because you’re on the pill but he always glows with pride after, so you let him indulge—as he kisses over your collarbone, and you bury your face in his neck with an easy hum.
“Are you,” you sigh, clinging to his body like a baby as his rubs firm circles over your back. “Were you serious?”
You can hear the frown in his voice. “I’m always fucking serious-“
“I know, I just mean-“ You sigh, leaning back to scan over his handsome, solid features. “About us. Are we- Is this public now?”
His jaw clenches slightly. “You’re the one who was calling me the best thing that ever happened to you-“
“I- you are, I just want to be sure you’re sure-“
“I’ve been sure since I fucking saw you,” Ben says your name, his voice firm, and you just stare at him. “The secret shit was your idea, and I’d move a fucking mountain for you, so I did it, but it’s always been fucking dumb as shit.”
“Oh.” You swallow, offering him a small smile. “Sorry.”
He rolls his eyes. “Shut up. We’re public, sweetheart, and every single fucking pussy in the world is going to know you’re mine.”
“Good,” you hum, resting your head back on his shoulder. “You’re mine too, you know.”
“I’m damn well aware.” Ben kisses the side of your head, tracing a hand up your spine. “All fucking yours.”
End Note: I never have more fun than coming up with Soldier Boy insults. Channeling all the swearing I can't do at work into this.
If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3
୨୧ warning(s). domestic fluff | toddler swearing | ben being a menace & bad influence on ur child | affectionate teasing (?) | light humor.
୨୧ kari notes. i wrote this yesterday in my car while i was running errands for my baby sister's birthday LMAO and this sounded funnier in my head but (in bree's words) fuck it we ball. i also missed writing for mr. soldier boy <3
saturdays are sacred.
it's the one day of the week where you don't have to rush out of bed, don't have to fight through traffic or sit through meetings or deal with deadlines. it's the one day you get to just be—with ben, with your daughter, with the small, messy, ridiculous family you somehow built together.
today had been a good one.
you'd all gone to the park, let your daughter run wild for a few hours, watched her climb the jungle gym with the reckless confidence of a toddler who thinks she's invincible. ben had trailed after her the whole time, grumbling about little shits not watching where they're going when other kids ran too close, but you caught the way he smiled every time she threw her head back and laughed.
now, the three of you are home, settled in the living room. your daughter sits on the floor, surrounded by a mess of her stuffed animals and plastic dolls, while you and ben take up the couch, curled into each other as an old '80s movie plays on the tv.
it's one of ben's favorites—something with big explosions, bad one-liners, and way too much synth in the background music. he's been mouthing along to half the dialogue, grinning whenever a fight scene starts.
"god, movies were so much better back then," he mutters, stretching his arm across the back of the couch.
you snort. "you just like them because they're all violence and tits."
"yeah, and? what's your point?"
you roll your eyes, but you're smiling.
it's nice—the warmth of his body beside you, the steady hum of the tv, the quiet sounds of your daughter mumbling to herself as she plays. it's one of those rare, perfect moments where everything just feels right.
but sometimes… those moments aren't always forever, are they?
"oh, for fuck's sake."
your daughter's tiny voice rings out clear as day, full of frustration as she glares down at one of her toys like it's personally offended her.
your head snaps toward her so fast you nearly give yourself whiplash.
ben stiffens beside you.
"what," you say slowly, "did you just say?"
your daughter huffs, still frowning at the plastic dinosaur in her hands. "i said, 'for fuck's sake.'"
you stare at her.
then, just as slowly, you turn to ben.
he's sitting completely still, eyes locked on the tv, expression carefully blank—like if he doesn't move, maybe you won't notice he's there.
you narrow your eyes. "ben."
"hmm?"
"benjamin."
he exhales, dragging a hand down his face. "look, before you start bitching—"
"are you fucking kidding me?"
the man smirks. "oh, now who's teaching her bad words?"
you elbow him hard in the ribs.
he grunts, but he's still grinning, the asshole.
meanwhile, your daughter is just looking between the two of you, completely unfazed, like she hasn't just dropped a full-blown curse word like it's nothing.
"baby," you say, rubbing your temples, "we don't say that."
she tilts her head. "but dada says it allll the time."
ben immediately turns away, suddenly very interested in the movie again.
you shoot him a glare. "unbelievable."
he shrugs. "what? she spends all day with me, she's bound to pick up some things."
"yeah, like a sailor’s vocabulary."
he smirks, leaning in, voice dropping low. "c'mon, sweetheart, you didn't exactly marry me for my clean mouth."
you swat at him, fighting back a laugh. again asshole.
your daughter, still sitting cross-legged on the floor, lets out a little put-upon sigh and mutters, "jesus christ."
ben loses it.
he throws his head back, laughing so hard his shoulders shake, like this is the funniest thing in the goddamn world.
last book: Currently reading The strings of murder by Oscar de Muriel and The word is murder by Anthony Horowitz but so far neither have me really hooked tbh
last movie: Basic Instinct
last tv show: The Blacklist - I’m rewatching
last thing googled: the raw results from monday and WHERE ARE THE GUNNS again?!
favorite color: black
sweet/savory/spicy: I have a baaad sweet tooth
currently looking forward to: Finishing my essay - and spring😌
current obsession: Police bodycam footage bye😭 It’s like research for the novel I’m writing
Dean huffs but doesn’t move as you press up on your toes, cupping his jaw to inspect the damage.
You’d only meant to give him a quick kiss—a soft peck before heading out on your respective errands. But Dean being Dean, he had to grab your waist, tilt your chin up, and kiss you like he had all the time in the world.
Which is why he now has a very noticeable smudge of your lipstick at the corner of his mouth.
You try to fight back a giggle. “You’re a mess.”
Dean grins, the dimple in his cheek deepening. “You’re the one who kissed me.”
“You kissed me,” you correct, swiping your thumb over the mark. It doesn’t budge. "Wow, this stuff stays put."
Dean’s eyebrows raise, eyes glinting with amusement. “Guess that means I get to wear it all day.”
You roll your eyes, grabbing a tissue from your bag and wetting it with a little spit before reaching up again.
Dean jerks his head back, mock-offended. “Oh, hell no. You’re not about to mom-wipe me.”
“Oh my God, just let me fix it!” You try again, but he dodges, laughing as you chase him around the motel room.
He finally relents when you tackle him against the bed, your knees bracketing his hips. His hands settle on your waist, eyes warm as he watches you carefully wipe away the smudge.
“There,” you murmur, brushing your fingers over his cheek. “All good.”
Dean hums, his hands tightening slightly. “Too bad. Kinda liked wearing your mark.”
Your heart does something stupid in your chest.
Instead of answering, you lean down and kiss him again, slow and sweet, ignoring the fact that you’re probably just making another mess.
Dean doesn’t seem to mind.
ꔛ. navigation 𓂃˖ ࣪ all drabbles ; compatibility readings ; support my work .ᐟ
Sherlock Holmes modern adaptation but the main characters (Sherlock, Watson, Mrs. Hudson, Irene Adler, and maybe even Lestrade) are all vampires and they’ve just been doing their thing since the time period of the original books
Irene gets to be from New Jersey like she is in canon and she’ll occasionally show up and help Sherlock with a case but they don’t ever date or hook up or anything
the latest one isn’t even a cop she works nights at the 7-11 and Sherlock keeps coming in at 2am to slam two gallons of Monster Energy and ask her what what the fuck an “amogus” is (it’s case related) and tell her how much better she is at lateral thinking than her tragically straightforward ancestor and also is her girlfriend still going to school to be a defense attorney, how’s she handling the workload
1) Irene adopts and yes she is The Cool Grandma for generations of children forevermore
2) Mary is also a vampire, she got turned at the same time as John, she and Sherlock have Wine Wednesdays every third Saturday of the month
3) Mrs. Hudson is immortal but she’s not a vampire and nobody can figure out what her deal is
4) absolutely 100% correct
whenever anybody asks how they got turned the response is something along the lines of “that was like. Over five years ago. How do you expect me to even remember that.” or “idk man I just woke up like this” or “got bitten by a mosquito on a case” and it’s never the same twice
Yes the Sherlock Holmes books exist and whenever they’re brought up Watson gets very upset that this dude stole his writing and considers him his archnemesis despite the fact that Doyle is a totally normal human and dead as hell
imagine Watson’s frothing rage at the Doyle estate insisting Holmes can never be shown having emotions. like he didn’t personally watch Sherlock weep during the moon landing.
Okay, but consider
The Problem (Aka Sherlock Holmes) doesn’t hit ALL The Lestrades, only those that Holmes can rightfully refer to as “Inspector Lestrade”.
Obviously, police inspectors and detectives are affected by The Problem (as family lore refers to Holmes) but, like, subsequent generations have learned how loose the definition is.
Our latest Lestrade, let’s call her Billie, gets called up by her boss one day, and her boss is like “hey, Corporate says somebody at the store needs to know about health regulations and stuff. If you take a couple night classes and get this certification, we’ll give you a bonus on your next paycheck, and one of your jobs will be to sign off that we don’t have mold everywhere”. And Billie is like “Sure, sound good, whatever” and goes to the night classes and takes the test at the end and the tired bureaucrat who runs the course is like “Okay, congratulations, you’re now a Certified Health And Hygiene Inspector (Class D-Small Retail Food Storage and Service)” And Billie just freezes and is like “Ummmm, is it possible to get something different? Maybe I can be a Health and Hygine Expert?
And the bureaucrat is like “No, you passed the test, you’re now a Certified Health and Hygiene Inspector (Class D- Small Retail Food Storage and Service)”
And Billie is just SWEATING as she leaves the building, because she knows about The Problem, but maybe this wouldn’t count? Like, it’s not like she works for the government or anything. It’s just a dumb piece of paper that says she’s allowed to fill out other dumb pieces of paper. That can’t count. It’s not like her JOB changed or anything.
But, as soon as she steps out into the night and makes her way to the Bus stop, a slim figure steps out of the shadows and falls into step next to her.
“Ah, Inspector Lestrade, congratulations on the promotion. I have a few questions for you about-”
And Health And Hygiene Inspector (Class D- Small Retail Food Storage and Service) Billie Lestrade repeats the three words that have become motto and mantra for her family.
“Go Away Holmes”.
