Collection of my stories, drabbles, request, etc. for this account! Enjoy my 🩵Sabrina Carpenter Era🐾 and other sweet & spicy things that I obsess over.
💌 Requests are open!💌
🍒 - Smut 💞 - Fluff 🌧️ - Angst
The Boys
You’re Worse than Me - 🍒The Boys get dragged out by their girls to go dancing. Ain’t nothing like wrangling a bunch of drunk women to keep them from fighting or fucking in the middle of a club.
Fantasize - 🍒Kimiko takes matters into her own hands and gives her friend a little nudge in Butcher’s direction (inspired by Fantasize by Ariana Grande).
Soldier Boy and Butcher being Dads - 💞Little glimpse into the beginning of The Boys going domestic.
Too Cozy - 🍒🌧️ They’ve been casually hooking up for some time. Just when things seem like they’re about to get kinda serious, Butcher pulls away and starts ignoring her. Certain signs lead her to taking a pregnancy test, which leads to confronting Butcher. In front of everyone.
because i liked a boy - 🍒🌧️ It was all so innocent, dating boys with exes. While Soldier Boy isn’t phased by the scandal, she’s being painted as the slut that broke up America’s favorite couple.
buy me presents - 🍒 Soldier Boy can’t help his obsession with his little Beverly Hills beauty and spoils her for Christmas.
Hedonism - 🍒 (buy me presents pt. ii) A vulnerable goddess prey to his godly appetites. She’s the prize of one man. He just has to catch her first.
Why Bunny? - 🍒The Boys find out why Butcher calls his girl bunny.
Wanna Bet? - 🍒🌧️ After inviting her to be his date to some dinner, she finds out about the cruel and sleazy bet between Soldier Boy and his sidekick.
Smell so Sweet - 🍒Soldier Boy’s powers make it easy for him to read people’s physical reactions. He happens to pick up on the fact that every time she’s around Butcher and himself, she gets REALLY horny.
Incentive - 🍒 Butcher and Hughie dress to the nines to attend a movie premiere with their Supe girlfriends. Butcher is apprehensive since he’s gotta rub elbows with the likes of Homelander, but she promises a reward to her good boy if he behaves.
“Cat” - 🍒 Soldier Boy goes on and on about how much he loves “cat”, but she’s never seen him with an animal.
Dirty Little Secret - 🍒 Secrets, secrets are no fun, unless that secret happens to be a beast in the sheets.😈 (Billy Butcher)
Tears - 🍒 ‘I get wet at the thought of you, uh huh, be-ing a responsible guy!’ (Billy Butcher)
…But I Wish It Was - 🍒🌧️ She hated him and wished it was her, but it wasn’t. (Soldier Boy)
Sweet Dreams - 🍒 Dreams do come true. Inspired by The Boys Seasons 5 Trailer. (Soldier Boy)
Sweet Dreams pt. ii - 🍒 Dreams become a reality. (Soldier Boy)
Manchild - 🍒 She wrote a hit about him. Now he’s out to prove her wrong. (Soldier Boy)
Shower Confessions - 🍒💞 Billy catches her self-doubting in the mirror.
The Good Girl Tapes - 🍒 Sleeping with the talent wasn't a good idea, and filming it was an even worse one. (Requested: Soldier Boy)
The Engagement - 🍒💞 (Pt. ii to The Good Girl Tapes) The engagement is for the cameras. The feelings are not. (Soldier Boy)
Read Receipts - 💞 She’s drunk, she’s horny, and she’s feeling brave enough to text Billy.
Negan/JDM
Purely Precious - 🍒🌧️How could something so beautiful, so precious, have been created from a man who lusted for blood? How could fate be so cruel as to make her have his distinct dark hair and his dimples?
Part I Part II Part III Part IV
Fragile- 🍒🌧️ It’s not everyday the devil meets a woman he wants to be gentle for.
You Ain’t Easy to Love - 🍒🌧️JDM as a cowboy OC I created. (Rooster x ofc)
Part I Part II
Misc.
What's My Name? (Alfie Solomons) - 🍒 Alfie wants to hear his name leave her lips.
My Sultan (Nandor the Relentless) - 🍒 While the boys are away, Nadja and Nandor’s human lover have a girls night in of swapping juicy secrets. Nadja reveals to her mortal friend that Nandor gets a hard on when being called “sultan”, the ultimate position of power and dominance for a once great and aspiring Ottoman general. Nadja, and the whole house, will soon realize what Nandor is capable of.
Obvious Solution (Laszlo Cravensworth) - 🍒Nandor and Nadja have become so busy with their Vampiric Council duties that their respective lovers are starting to feel forgotten and neglected. Even though he enjoys feeding on the quarreling couples, Colin Robinson suggests an obvious solution: letting Laszlo and Nandor’s lover satisfy one another when their partners aren’t available.
Let Me Make You Juno (Ian Malcolm) - 🍒When Ian returns from Jurassic Park, he has a new perspective on some decisions he’s been contemplating. Like the need to lock down the love of his life. (Inspired by Sabrina Carpenter’s song Juno)
Moxley-Master Masterlist
old primary account that I might occasionally reblog posts on. WWE themed.
cw: smut 18+. fem!reader. age gape. fingering. use of the word rape twice. p in v sex. creampie. breeding kink. cheating. I’m super rusty so sorry if this blows
You’re laid on your back legs spread, Bens fingers wading through the messy puddle of your cunt—eventually slipping two thick digits inside.
Your back arches off the new sheets you helped his wife pick out. Satin baby blue. He hates it.
“You're gushing for your old man like a goddamn faucet.”
He picks up the pace, his fingers hammering in and out of your embarassingly sloppy pussy. The room fills with a sick sloshing sound.
Your face burns in shame but it doesn't stop a pornographic moan from escaping your lips.
You see, playing house with her pays the bills and keeps his approval rating high—even thought they went only on a few dates. So for now he's a real lovely, doting husband.
Except for when she's out on a business trip and he splits you open on his cock.
You didn’t mean to start fucking him you swear! it just sorta happened.
You were her cute, new assistant who kept making heart eyes at him even when she was is in the room. Eventually he cornered you in the bathroom— your panties at your ankles as he hammered into you over the sink so hard, the porcelain edges dug into your skin.
She's kind and generous and genuine. You almost feel awful for betraying her.
Almost.
"Feels so fucking good!" you groan. His fingers are hitting your sweet spot deep inside over and over and over again. "Uh-uh-harder!"
"You want me to make it hurt huh? Want Soldier Boy to rape this stupid cunt?"
You beam at his question, not being able to help the stop the shameless giggles from escaping you. “Uh huh! fuck yes! r-rape my dirty pussy".
“Fuck, doll—you’re so goddamn cute.” he breaths as he flips you onto your stomach. His large hands immediately come to lift your hips to his, you feel the hardness of his cock pressing against your ass.
“You ever feel bad you’re keepin' a man away from his wife with this sweet fuckin body of yours ?” He punctuates his taunt with a harsh slap to your ass cheek.
Usually any mention of her used to make your stomach turn with guilt. After awhile it got replaced with jealousy, possessiveness. Being reminded she existed was part of the game, the shame and guilt of it all made you both disgustingly turned on.
“Don’t care,” you pout, “and I know you don’t either—daddy.”
“Damn fuckin right I don’t.” he grunts as he lines his swollen tip with your pretty entrance.
He pushes inside with a loud groan and a tight grip on your hips, the bruising already forming underneath his fingertips.
You on the other hands can barely breath. No matter how many times he’s had you in this position it always hurts. The dull ache in your belly makes your head spin.
“Christ this cunts tighter than a fuckin' Chinese finger trap.”
He drills into your sensitive core, the plap plap plap of his balls smacking against your clit sends jolts of pleasure through your body.
“Dumb broads probably waiting by the phone right now hoping I’ll call" he chuckles to himself. “You on the other hand, well fuck, I'll always make time for my best girl."
You moan at his praise, another giggle escaping your lips.
"Wonder if she ever smells you on me?, you think she'd be happy knowin' you're a fuckin nympho? huh?"
"N-no Sir—ngh—just l-leave her already" you groan into the sheets.
He ignores your plea and violently flips you onto your back, his big arms coming to place your ankles on his shoulders.
"No no no, this right here, this, is what matters most doll" he coos as he slowly slides back inside you.
"This creamy fuckin cunt soakin' my balls is what I care about, it's all I fucking live for."
The sweet spot inside you becomes a sensitive bruise he keeps jabbing until your body goes limp. It's all too much. His thrusts grow more aggressive and so do his moans. He sounds pained, hungry, desperate.
"I'm gonna fill you up now and you're gonna thank me huh baby?"
You nod feverishly, face flushed and borderline drooling. "Yesyesyes breed my pussy Ben, c-can we have a baby? please!"
That breaks him. He empties himself into your pussy with a string of curse words and filthy ramblings. You pull him closer and revel in the shockwaves pulsing through your body. “fuck—thank you, thank you, thank you so so much” spills from your mouth. It's moments like these where all the lies seem worth it. You feel so close to him, what else could matter more?
When you feel yourself come back down to earth, Ben has pulled out of you leaving you in a puddle of his spend and your own slick.
He’s got his phone pressed to his ear and you can faintly hear the voice on the other end. His eyes roll and you try to stifle a chuckle. Feeling left out, you drag your fingertips down to your mess of a cunt, spreading yourself open to reveal what's left his his cum being pushed out slowly.
Ben does that tongue poke-in cheek move at your actions. You’re slutty and messy, but most of all shameless. So he hangs up at the phone and orders you ass up again.
“Since you’re so damn desperate—let’s make that kid now.”
❆ Summary: One look is all it takes for you to fuck things up royally just before a meeting.
❆ Warnings: smut, switch!reader, dom!Ben, name calling, oral sex (m!receiving), deepthroating, hair pulling, spit/drool, references to training, cock-warming, Homelander being a weirdo and a cockblock
❆ Word Count: 1k
❆ Requester: @i-gotta-go-so-much-bigger
❆ Rating: Explicit/16+
❆ Author's Note: I'm feral, goodnight.
꧁ Read my rules and send in a request! ꧂
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You know that look better than you know the fucking alphabet by now.
It's the look Ben gives you every time he's lookin' for a little…..stress relief.
So at least twice a day, usually three times. Weekends are a world of their own, best not to discuss those just yet.
You throw the file you were reading on the table with a little huff, rolling your eyes as you take the elastic off your wrist and tie back your hair nice and tight, you know he likes it that way.
You walk over to him, slowly unbuttoning your shirt, pulling it over your head and tossing it onto a nearby chair. The lacy black bra he'd slipped into your drawer getting shown off. He was damn glad he bought you that. In every colour.
He always had a thing for the little strip tease, hence why you sat across from him a lot of the time, gave you more of a chance to show it all off as you approach him
You lean down, lips brushing his ear, tits pressed up by your arms, almost entirely in his face.
"You're a slut, y'know that?"
"Yeah well you're a whore, Sweetheart" He grinned, hands on your shoulders, pushing you down "Nah, you're my whore. Now get to work"
You send him a little smile, genuine, followed by an obnoxious sallutte, you gotta get your fun out of this too.
When you duck your head under the table, you see his cock, rock hard and begging for attention.
Your hand wraps around the base, giving him a few slow pumps before you see his thighs tense up, he really does need you this time.
Possessing the tiniest bit of sympathy, you decide to stop your teasing. Probably for the best, or he'd have you bent over the table screaming just in time for the twelve o'clock meeting.
You run the tip of your tongue up his length, following a bulging vein on the underside before taking the head of his cock to the back of your throat in one spearing motion.
The little growl he lets out is music to your ears.
He always likes it rough, he likes everything rough, so you barely give him a moment before bobbing your head up and down, hollowing your cheeks.
You pull back, running your tongue over his slit before diving back down, gagging around him.
That's his last straw. He tried just letting you go for it, he's trained you enough, but he can't just sit there.
He reaches under the table, grabbing your hair, the perfect handle, as he kicks his desk chair back, dragging you out.
"There's m' pretty girl" He grins, pleased with the pained little look on your face.
"That fucking hurt!" You barely manage to pull off his cock, a hand coming up to the top of your head, trying to soothe, before he shoves you back down, hips jolting into the back of your throat.
"C'mon baby, just be good 'n quiet for me, yeah?"
You breathe out heavily through your nose, voicing your annoyance without your actual voice before continuing.
You don't have much work left to do really, considering Ben has a vice grip on your hair, forcing your head back and forth, drool pouring down your chin, coating your chest.
"Look at tha'" He smirks, breathing a little heavy "Wan' me t' fuck those pretty tits next?"
You let your teeth graze him not so gently, signalling your disapproval.
"Aww, m' little whore too needy for me, huh? Won' let me fuck anywhere but that tight pussy? 's that right, doll?"
Your hands come up to grip the backs of his calves, nails digging in as you suck harder, eager for what's to come.
Him, namely.
His hold tightens, if that's possible, hips jerking, rutting into your throat before cumming with a loud roar, pressing your head down to make you swallow every last drop.
You pull off with a gasp for air as Ben leans back in his chair, a smug smirk creeping over his lips.
Your gaze flicks to his, taking a breath as you stand, moving back to sit on the table, legs spread.
"My turn"
He's on you in seconds, tasting his cum on your tongue,clicking up the little dribble falling down your chin, pushing you onto your back as he shoves your skirt up.
You hear a click.
You look back and see that weird, blonde fuckwit standing in the doorway.
He locks eyes with his father, completely ingoring the situation, really, ignoring you.
"The meeting's been moved up, it starts in five minutes"
Ben smirks, a little laugh "Y'think you can give us ten, junior? Kinda in the middle of something here"
"The meeting starts in five minutes"
He turns, dumbass cape swishing as he leaves, almost missing your sweet, honey-voiced "Hate you!"
Ben takes hold of both your hands, pining them above your head.
"Y'know, you should be less of a bitch to him, he's my kid after all"
"And a freak show"
"Yeah, but he's m' blood. You should really watch your tongue"
"About thirty seconds ago you had no problem with my tongue"
"Things change, doll"
"What, you gonna punish me now? Fuck me 'til I get some sense in my head, or whatever it was you said last time?"
"No" He smiles, almost sweet "I wouldn't hurt my best girl"
You can feel your suspicions rising.
He rolls his chair back, sitting down comfortably, dragging you onto his lap.
He positions his cock at your entrance, sliding in blissfully, soothing that itch, for a moment.
"Y're gonna be a good girl and sit still f'me, okay?" He whispers against your skin, leaving a soft kiss before handing you your shirt, just in time for everyone to file in and take their seats.
Some people called Soldier Boy a hero, some called him a villain, but you knew him for what he really was.
A cruel fucking bastard with a massive cock and an attitude to match.
A/N: this had been in my drafts for so long i had to reformat it bc it was in my old format version. SORRY! anyway hope you like it.
Warnings: Smut, masturbation (both f and m ;)//mutual masturbation, sexual daydreams about f! oral, creampies, etc, squirting
You had the place alone tonight.
It's the first time in awhile actually. Your roommate got forcibly dragged out by your ridiculously chaotic neighbor Wade. Something about a boys night out, and your roommate did not sound happy about it.
and while you liked having the place to yourself, you actually found yourself missing Logans presence quickly.
Showing up suddenly about 6 months ago, Wade had graciously offered your 2 bedroom apartment for Logan to crash in till he gets on his feet. Considering Wade is one of your closest friends, the people-pleaser in you, and the fact that Logan was the hottest man you ever seen- you accepted it in quiet resignation.
Logan was a nice roommate, does the dishes, helps with rent- and actually has managed to keep Wades nosy ass out of your home. He was a bit quiet and reserved at first, and you were a nervous wreck anytime you got close to him but soon you both melted into a routine, and became something like good friends- as much as Logan will allow anyway. You always would like to get closer to him, but there's a wall that you can't seem to cross with him.
You don't know a lot about his past. Wade rambled something about a TVA and multiple timelines when he first introduced Logan (by barging into your place and loudly welcoming Logan into his new home) and you decided not to pry, letting Logan tell you if and when he was ready. There's been snippets, when he gets drunk, where he admitted he did some terrible things.
Yet for some reason, you could never find yourself scared of him.
You had a big crush on Logan, a crush that was growing more and more by the day and it was becoming harder and harder to hide it.
Especially because now, as you lay in bed, ready to sleep for the night. You can't stop thinking about him.
You can't stop thinking about every interaction you had with him. The multiple times you've walked in the bathroom where he had nothing but a towel on- still wet and glistening. You thought about how his muscles bulged when he moved the couch for you- by himself. His hand touches your lower back every time he squeezes past you in your incredibly tiny kitchen- The way you could feel his breath on your neck when he excuses himself, and the press of his broad chest against your back....
Fuck.
Your skin was getting hot. You pressed your thighs together trying to give yourself relief from the ache in your core. You hadn't done anything in awhile, despite the vibrators that lay inside your bedside table. After you learned about Logan's enhanced hearing ability when he told you about your elderly neighbors who are apparently a bit rambunctious when it comes to their sex lives and keeps him up some nights- you couldn't bring yourself to use them anymore unless it was a rare night he wasn't home. If you needed to get yourself off, you used the shower.
You felt an excitement you haven't felt in a long time thinking about Logan and it filled you with slight guilt.
He's your roommate, your friend. You shouldn't be thinking about him like this- and yet...
You toss the blanket off yourself. The cool air of your bedroom brought relief to your hot skin. Still apprehensive about what you were going to do, you slowly spread your legs, tipping your head back and closing your eyes. You lifted your shirt over your breasts, feeling your nipples harden against the cool air.
You pictured Logan sucking on them. His tongue swirling around the bud. His teeth tugging at the skin before he leaves several bite marks around your breasts. It sends a fresh wave of warmth down to your pussy.
Your hand slid down your belly, resting over your panties. God they were soaked. You don't remember ever getting this wet when you were with an actual partner.
You tested with a teasing stroke against your panties and it causes you to gasp from just a little touch. Your mind flashes to Logan in that towel- and immediately you try to push it out of your mind. You can't, you shouldn't. It was perverted, you're sure Logan would be disgusted if he ever knew you did something like this.
Your hand didn't stop. Your fingers pressed into the fabric and rubbed teasing circles against your clit, until you finally slipped under your panties into your slippery folds. You pictured Logan's fingers doing the same- Big and strong- God he could probably get you off so fast with his hands before he even used his dick.
You spun fast circles into your clit, desperate for a release while thinking about Logan and you got it. Your mind went to him eating you out first- but quickly switching to the picture of your legs hooked over his shoulders and he's pounding you into the mattress. His cock stretching you open over and over- His voice taunting you, then praising you for taking him like a good girl. That's what sent you over the edge.
Your free hand came to cup your breast, squeezing it and rubbing circles into your nipple which spurred you on. Your hips lifted off the bed, and you moaned his name while you came. You fell back into bed when you finished letting the aftershocks continue, out of breath with your heart pounding.
That felt great, but it left you feeling emptier- and needier after your first daydream of Logan. The urge to be full- preferably with Logan's cock was strong.
You pulled your panties off, tossing them somewhere in the room. You press your fingers into your clit again, gently swirling against the sensitive bud, while your other hand worked down to your hole- begging to be filled. You dipped one finger inside, working yourself open. You thought about Logan again, how endowed he must be under those pants.
You haven't seen it, no- but a towel, boxers, especially the sweatpants. They leave little to the imagination. He's big. You could tell just by the frame of him, and his goddamn attitude too. He's hairy too, judging by the hair of his arms down his chest- You were able to peek a thick bush from the towel and that spurred you on more.
You added another finger, biting your lip and holding back a moan at the stretch. Logan would definitely have to spend some time preparing you- with his hands, maybe his mouth too, dipping his tongue inside your hole. Maybe it would feel good for his entire cock to be pushed inside you, taking you as you are and using you in every way he desires. You even thought about him cumming inside, filling you up so much you're leaking him for days.
You moaned his name again, your hand working yourself faster as you felt another orgasm rise in you- stronger this time, with the way your pussy squeezed your fingers and the core of your belly coiled tighter
"Moan any louder, and the neighbors are going to hear sweetheart."
His voice snapped you out of your dirty daydream. You yelped, hands quickly pulling away to cover your breasts, pulling your shirt back down as you sat up in bed. It's futile, since the person the voice belongs to just saw the whole package of your body- but it helps you protect your dignity- Although now you probably don't have any.
Logan stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame. His expression stern and made you cower a bit. Panic was all you could feel, your mind running through with a million, humiliating, horrifying things he was about to say to you. Your heart had sunk, and you had to fight back tears.
"Heard you calling my name." He says, taking one step into your room. Shame was eating your alive, and you just wanted to crawl six feet underground.
"Why'd you stop?" He finally ask after a brutal silence. Everything inside you freezes, you blinked at him, opening your mouth and shutting it- looking and feeling like a fish out of water.
He completely steps inside your room. Pulls a chair from your desk out, staging it at the end of your bed and sitting down with his legs spread. Your eyes unconsciously went down to the bulge in his jeans.
Holy shit, am I dreaming?
"Keep going." He orders, "I want to see how it ends, pretty girl."
You're still frozen, everything in your body telling you to move, to say something- anything. You're staring at each other, and slowly he starts to crack a smile.
"Feeling shy with an audience?" He asks. "Don't gotta be... it's just you and me."
You swallowed hard, like a robot, you slowly laid back down, resting on your elbows as you continued to meet his eyes. You spread your legs, giving him an absolute delightful view of your pussy he couldn't fully see from the door. His eyes looked down, and they looked hungry.
He licks his lips, "Good girl." His voice was deep and husky, with an edge- like he was holding himself back. "Lift your shirt back up hm?"
You nodded amazed by his confidence- the way he took control of everything while you stared at him like a deer in headlights. Your hand grabbed the hem and lifted the shirt back over your breasts. He lets out a hiss.
"Fuck, you're gorgeous darling." He grunts, his hands digging into his thighs, his eyes scanning over you. "You been thinking about me?"
You nodded again. Your hand slipped down between your thighs again and he smirks. "Eager to get back to it, hm? Before I rudely interrupted you sweetheart?"
You found your clit and began circling over again. Logan leans back in the chair, a hand resting over the bulge in his jeans, where he gently palms it every so often.
"I want to see you cum, darling." His voice turns husky. "You already did once didn't you?"
"Yes-" You find your voice again. You tipped your head back with your eyes falling shut, spreading your legs in the air. Spurred on by the heat of Logan's stare- Your mind rushing through the embarrassment of being discovered- and the excitement of being able to continue, and perform for Logan.. "Thinking about you." You pant.
He smirks, "Here, I thought you couldn't stand me...Fuck."
You heard a clink of his belt and lifted your head to see him. You moaned at the sight of his cock- big and thick, just as you thought. He spits into his hand and starts stroking himself, using his thumb to gather pre-cum at his angry and red tip and lubed himself further.
"Keep going-" He grunts through his teeth. He's matching your pace, but you could tell he wants more. For a moment- you thought about playing with him, a tease to make him pay for scaring you. Go slower, draw out every second and make it harder for him to resist cumming.
Maybe another time- Your body ached for release, and even more for him.
"Oh, Logan-" You gasped, your free hand coming up to cup your breast again.
"Good girl, say my name."
You both continued like that, fucking yourselves while watching the other until you finally climaxed. You came so hard your whole body froze, arching off the bed.
"Logan!" You cried out his name again, feeling pressure build up and before you could stop yourself- You squirted. You never did it before, but you couldn't even focus on that as you rode out the wave of pleasure, any shame you felt left your body as you basked in the relief of your orgasm, your body and limbs became empty.
Somewhere in the fuzziness in your mind you could hear Logan grunting, and you opened your eyes- knowing you wanted to see him cum too.
You hadn't even noticed he grabbed your panties, now using them to finish himself off before cumming into the fabric. He tips his head back, letting out a guttural noise of your name. His Adam's apple bobbed in his throat, his ears red, and a sheen of sweat on his skin. His head falls back forward with his mouth in the shape of an O as he pants for air.
You're both taking a minute to catch your breath. You're starting to realize what the hell just happened- but before you could say anything or even think about regretting it, Logan was on top of you.
He didn't say a word before he was kissing you. It was needy and desperate. He had an arm braced above your head, and a hand cupping your cheek. You pressed your hands against his chest, kissing him back - He took your breath away.
He finally parts leaving you both gasping for air.
"You okay?" He asks, brushing a strand of hair out of the way. You nodded.
"You scared the hell out of me." You laughed breathlessly. "You're home early."
"You can thank the loudmouth for that." He chuckles. "Got us kicked out everywhere we went- Not that I'm complaining..." He leans down to press a kiss to your cheek, and along your jaw. You laughed, because you really do have Wade to thank for all of this...Not that you ever would.
But you're suddenly remembering now- this whole situation. What does this mean for your friendship? Did you hear him say he thought you hated him?
"Logan..." Your hands reached up to cup his face so he'd look at you. "About what just happened....We, we should talk about it-"
"Sure." He sits up, and you find yourself already missing his closeness.
Instead of leaving, he lifts up his shirt and tosses it aside, revealing his toned and hairy body. Your eyes drifted back down to his cock that was still hanging out of his jeans. He was hard again. He lays back down over you, his hand wrapping around your thigh and lifting it over his hip. He presses his cock against your core.
A/N: idk where tf this came from, but I just needed soft SB. KEEP IN MIND THAT I AM PRO CHOICE AND JUST HAVE THIS ODD OBSESSION WITH THINGS LIKE THIS. I'm in it for the dramatics. This might be a bit ooc but idk.
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!
WC: 3,046
>>READ ON AO3
CW: Daddy kink, breeding (yep, yep. Kiri's specialty), miscarriage, pregnancy (talks of it), and I thiiiiink that's it? Lemme know if I missed any.
From a very young age, she was uncertain about children. In her adolescence, girls around her played house, pretend marriages, baby dolls and picture perfect families. It was entertaining to a degree, that much she would admit, but she never really got involved with the other girls on the playground. As a teenager, the abstinence talk had been drilled into her head. Teenage pregnancy still happened to her peers in high school. Though it was rare, it was no less gossiped about around the building.
She never had any interactions with babies or kids either. The most she gave the time of day to them was a quick smile at a baby in a grocery cart or a wave to a beaming 4 year old. There wasn't a whole lot of time for her to think about kids in her younger days. The American dream: work hard, study hard, get into a good college and land a job to slave away until that ripe age of 60… It would be too late by then. In her mind, the idea of even fitting time to have a family into that schedule seemed impossible.
With the world the way it was at the moment, bringing a child into the world would be far too dangerous. She wouldn't want to subject such a fragile being in a life with false idols, corrupt politicians, and scummy “heroes”. Granted, there would always be those types of people, but there seemed to be an abundance for the time. So, since she had been indifferent about kids and having no partner, the idea quickly faded to the recesses of her mind.
Then Soldier Boy walked into her life.
She had been involved with Butcher and his boys for a little over a year and a half due to her inside knowledge of Vought. What she hadn't anticipated was waking up America’s golden boy from a Russian freezer and falling head over heels for his rude ass.
Like her opinion on children, the relationship between her and Ben was indifferent. They flirt, they argue, they fuck and the cycle continues. Unfortunately, he had been the pinnacle of what she wanted in a man; minus all the bigoted opinions. She didn't know how he felt. Ben was a man of many colorful words, but he was not a romantic and didn't “do pussy shit feelings”. He was a man, not a teenage boy. For one thing, he wasn't fucking some other woman to her knowledge. Butcher had been surprised to learn that Ben could be loyal. Regardless, everyone warned her about him.
Two months ago, she was in his bed and being railed into the mattress. Both were coated in a thin layer of sweat as their bodies moved in a carnal harmony. He had ripped orgasm after orgasm from her and came at least a dozen times inside. She was on the pill, it would be okay and it was a safe day.
She couldn't even speak properly, only babbling and crying while Ben's massive cock kept abusing her pussy. That stretch of his long, thick dick was delicious. He fit so wonderfully inside of her that it made her agree with him that he should stay inside of her forever. Just keep filling her up with his cock and her cunt oozing that creamy mixture of their combined fluids.
“Ben please-” Her voice is hoarse after hours of being fucked into. She was certain she wouldn't walk properly for a few days. “Please, more.” The look in her eyes and the way she's on her stomach pathetically wiggling her ass at him has Ben hard in a flash again.
He watches as his cum dribbles down her thighs from her pussy and ass. A deep chuckle rumbles in his chest as he pushes the cum back into her pussy. “Look at you, doll. Ruined. No one's gonna want you after this.”
“Don't want anyone else. Just you, daddy.” She looks over her shoulder at him, exhaustion starting to show in her pretty eyes. “Jus’ want you in me. Fillin’ me up.” She's completely cock drunk and delirious from her diminishing energy. But what she is saying is all true, she doesn't want anyone else but Ben. Her heart and soul are his, even if he doesn't feel the same. She would gladly throw her life away just to be by his side for the rest of her days.
“Yeah?” Ben mounts her one last time, he was getting a little tired too. “You wanna have daddy fill this tight, pretty pussy up?” He grabs his cock, rubbing the tip of it along her puffy folds.
“Please, daddy. Please. Need you.” She practically sobs, looking into his eyes. “Please-” Before she can finish, her eyes roll in bliss as she feels him sink into her. Just the feeling of his cock slipping inside nearly makes her cum alone. “So fuckin’ good. Mmmh!” Her fingers claw into the sheets.
Ben wraps one of his strong arms around her waist before his hips start snapping into her. “You're still so fucking tight.” He growls into her ear. “Gonna give you my babies. Stuff you nice and full”
Without even thinking, something in her brain snaps. “Yes! Yes! Please! Make me a mommy!! Please!! I want it! Daddy please make me a mommy!!”
Both of them find a burst of renewed energy at the enthusiasm she shows upon being bred. Ben pulls out quickly before flipping her onto her back and pushing her legs over his shoulders in a mating press. He slams back into her, eyes locked on hers. “Yeah? You want me to make you a mommy? Give me pretty babies?” he couldn't deny the idea made him excited. If he was going to have rugrats with anyone, it would be her. This woman he had held secret strong feelings for had changed him, but he wasn't about to admit that.
“Please, daddy! Please!! Please!! Make me a mommy!!” Tears are rolling down her flushed cheeks as she begs for something she isn't even certain she wants. In the moment, it was everything she wanted.
Leaning down, Ben shushed her with a sloppy, wet kiss. They are both approaching their limits. “Then that's what I'm gonna fuckin’ do. Knock you up. Watch your tits get fatter and your tummy get all round with my kid.” Ben slurs against her lips, breath mingling with hers. His hips pick up speed but movements start to falter.
“Do it, daddy. Do it, please, please, please, please, love you so much-” After babbling more nonsense, her jaw falls slack as just a touch to her oversensitive clit has her pussy grip Ben's cock like a vice. Her orgasm tears through her hard and she lets out a broken wail from how powerful it is.
Soldier Boy soon follows, burying his face into her neck and growling as he shoots a thick stream of his seed in her. “Fuck!” His teeth add another mark along her neck, beard tickling her warm skin.
The two lay in an exhausted, sweaty heap, catching their breaths, and limbs feeling like noodles. After another moment of silence, Ben pulls out of her and lowers her legs down. He places a kiss to the side of her soaked hair and surrenders himself to just lay on top of her. Their heartbeats sync and no words are spoken between them; they don't need to. Without worrying about the outside world and the issues at hand, they fall asleep in each other's arms.
–
Now, a couple days before Butcher and his boys finally take out Homelander, she and Ben fight. He had been distancing himself from her and questioning how he actually felt. Domestic life almost scared him with how calm it was. Sure, he still snorted coke up his nose and drank himself into oblivion, but this? Soft life? No parties, lavish lifestyle, hookers and drugs? It's all he has really ever known.
“Why!? Why can't we just move on from all of this after you take him out!?” She cries, lip quivering and eyes shimmering with tears.
“This? This isn't who I am, doll. I'm not meant for playing house.You should have known day fuckin one that this would all end at some point. This fairy tale bullshit you've got yourself cucked in is nice now, but just wait until you wake up.” Ben's heart is tugged a little upon seeing the look of heartbreak on her face.
She wraps her arms around herself, not only feeling the emotional hurt of his words but a sharp pain in her pelvis. All she can do is stare at Ben with tears continuing to slide down her face. Her breaths become shaky and the pain intensifies. A warmth blooms between her legs.
A coppery smell hits Ben's nose and he raises an eyebrow at the growing stain in her sweat pants. He says nothing and turns his back on her, knowing that this was probably for the best. He couldn't give her the life she wanted… Even if he craved it, too. Deep down, something told him to turn back and stay. Kill Homelander. Ditch Butcher and his merry band of fuckwits. Put a ring on her finger. Live happily. He was happy with her but the life before her called to him; no strings and all play.
“Ben, don't go. BEN!!” She collapses to the floor, back aching and pain getting worse. “Please, don't go. I love you!!” One final attempt to get him to stay.
The Supe looks over his broad shoulders at the pitiful state of the woman he loved too much. “That's why I have to leave.”
Another wave of pain courses through her body as Ben walks out of her apartment. She gasps through the pain, crawling toward the door and sobbing. “No. No, no, no, no!!” Her jaw clenches tightly from a horrific cramp that feels like something is stabbing her womb. It had been a bit since she last had her period and the pill did have her skip it sometimes. This was just icing on the cake having it come right at this moment. While she wanted to lay on the floor and sob in a pile, she couldn’t exactly bleed on the carpet. She musters what strength her body allows and hobbles toward the bathroom. Once inside, she frantically strips down and turns the water on in hopes that the heat will soothe her body and soul; it does anything but that. She’s on the floor of her shower, breathing hard and clutching her stomach. A slew of emotions ravage her mind and she doesn’t know if she wants to be sad, mad, in pain, or what. Everything is so much and-
“Oh my god.” She finally looks at the tiled floor and watches the water run red. Another wave of pain hits her, and she growls from it. Her body trembles and heavy sobs mingle into the steam of the bathroom. She finds herself on all fours, hips swaying from side to side and forehead pressed to the shower floor. Ben isn’t even on her mind at the moment as the throbbing sensation of being pulled open from the inside has taken over. There’s no one to call either as she has no one. She made her bed and lay in it by falling in love with Ben.
She spends the next few hours in a ball on the tile floor, energy sapped and pelvis radiating with pain. An uncomfortable oozing sensation slips from between her legs followed by a soft “plop” on the tile. She sits up carefully to look at what had transpired and her eyes widen at the sight. It wasn’t a normal clot like she was used to. Her stomach sinks and a wave of nausea rolls in like a tidal wave upon the realization of what that clot most likely is. Unable to deal with the emotions and pain anymore, her eyes roll and the world around her becomes black.
After a concerned neighbor had called for a wellness check on her and the doctors confirmed the worst, she was back in her apartment. It was dark in her room as she sat on her bed staring at the wall with a blank expression. There had been life growing inside of her. Ben had left her and he didn’t know… Now? Now he is dead. Homelander still walked in the light of day and Soldier Boy is dead. Perhaps this was for the best, because if he survived; how could she ever look him in the eyes and tell him what had happened when he walked out the door?
–
Ben isn’t dead. He was put in that god damn freezer again and then woken up by his weird fucking son. After getting reacquainted with the new world, yet again, he makes his way to that familiar apartment. Raising his fist, he bangs on the door three times before it’s opened.
She’s white as a sheet when she sees Soldier Boy alive and well standing before her. “I must have forgotten to take my medication.” She mutters, slamming the door in his face and quickly making her way to the kitchen. This has to either be some sick prank, someone impersonating Ben, she really did forget her medication, or she is seeing a ghost. The door opening and then shutting is confirmation that it was none of the above. She takes a moment to breathe and center herself. Memories of that day flood back and they make her want to start crying. Instead, anger rushes in and she spins around to slam her fist into his face.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Ben catches her wrist and looks at her, unamused. “That’s how you greet me after I’ve been stuck in that god damn ice box for a few years?”
Something inside of her ticks and she growls in frustration. “I could have said a whole lot worse, but you can’t just fucking waltz in here and expect everything to be the same!! You left me!! I loved you, poured my whole heart out for you and you took it and tore it in pieces!!” Tears blur her vision. She raises her other fist and manages to slam it on his chest. “You fucking left me!”
“Oh Christ- You’re on your period again, same as when I left.” Ben rolls his eyes, not taking this conversation as seriously as he should.
Her brows knit together as she looks up at Soldier Boy, shaking her head. “I wasn’t on my period.” Her lip quivers.
“Bullshit. You were bleeding all over the floor. I saw it.”
“No! You- You don’t get it!!” She looks away, finding it hard to tell him what had happened. “Just go away! Leave me alone!”
“You’re not helping your case here, doll. I know when you get all bitchy and-”
“I was pregnant!”
The room falls silent and Ben’s grip on her wrist loosens. His expression remains stoic, but inside he feels something break.
“I miscarried.” Her arms drop to her sides before holding herself tightly. “I thought that the pill helped lessen the chance and that we had sex on my safe days.” Her voice quivers as tears slide down her cheeks. “Then you left me. I still have nightmares about that day, Ben.” She stands a little taller, nodding her chin up at him while still shedding tears. “So what gives you the right to come in here and-” She’s stopped as Ben does something completely by surprise. His arms wrap around her frame and he pulls her close.
“I made a mistake.” He says flatly. “I thought that the life I had was all I wanted. Turns out, I was wrong. This whole world is fucked up and not the same one I knew.”
That tight feeling in her throat comes back. She can’t bring herself to give in so easily, not when she still loved him. “You don’t mean it.”
“If I didn’t mean it, then I wouldn’t fucking be here.” Ben gives her a little squeeze, being mindful of his strength. “Like I said, this isn’t the same world I knew… With you? I feel like I know it better.” He pulls away, large hands holding her arms as he looks into her eyes.
He did seem to ease into current life easier when he was around her. It was definitely because she had changed him in some way. But… The pain still lingered in the air. “I don’t want to be hurt again.” She whispers.
Ben pulls her into a tight embrace again and sighs through his nose. They stand there in silence for a brief moment before he speaks. “Did you want it?”
“Want what? To be hurt? No-”
“That’s not what I meant.” He runs one of his hands through her hair, hesitant to answer.
“What did you mean, then?” She tries to look at him, but his hand shoves her back into his shoulder.
“The kid.”
She hadn’t truly thought about it. Even having gone through such a traumatic experience still garnered uncertainty on that stance. Yes, she mourned the loss of what could have been, and yes, she begged him to make her a mother but that was in the heat of the moment. Closing her eyes, she thinks deeply. The job she has wouldn’t be enough to provide for the child if the miscarriage wouldn’t have happened. She would be reminded of Ben everyday while he was “dead” if she went through with it. There were so many underlying factors to consider: but she would have never hated her child nor would she want it to suffer. Again, did she want it? If it was with Ben…
“Yes.” She answers quietly, wrapping her arms around him and nuzzling her face into his shoulder. “But only if it’s you.” That much, she was certain of.
A small smile touches Ben’s lips and he rests his cheek on the top of her head. There was hope for him after all. A world he looked forward to being a part of as long as she was in it with him.
The first thing you noticed about Soldier Boy was that he looked like he didn’t want to be there.
Everyone else at the Vought party glittered.
You didn’t.
Well—technically you did. Your dress shimmered under the lights, soft pink and carefully chosen by a team that never asked what you liked. Your heels pinched. Your smile had been rehearsed.
But him?
He stood off to the side like he’d rather set the whole place on fire than make conversation. Drink in hand. Eyes half-lidded. Completely unimpressed.
You stared too long.
“Stay close,” Ashley hissed beside you, her grip tight on your arm. “Do not wander. Do not improvise. Just smile.”
You nodded.
You lasted three minutes.
Because you felt it.
Not saw. Not thought.
Felt.
Like something in your chest pulled—sharp and curious and certain.
Your gaze snapped back to him.
He was already looking at you.
Oh.
Oh.
You smiled—bright, immediate, a little too eager—and slipped out of Ashley’s grasp before she could stop you.
“Hi.”
He didn’t answer right away. Just looked down at you, slow, assessing, like he was trying to figure out what category to put you in.
“…Hi,” he said finally, flat.
Up close, he was worse.
Better.
Stronger. Broader. The kind of presence that filled space without trying.
You rocked slightly on your heels, hands clasped behind your back. “You look like you hate it here.”
“I do.”
“That’s fair.” You nodded, completely serious. “It’s really loud. And fake. And the lighting is kind of aggressive.”
That got a reaction.
Small. But there.
His brow twitched. “You always talk this much?”
“Only when I’m interested.”
There it was again—that look.
Sharper now.
“Yeah?” he said. “And what exactly are you interested in?”
You tilted your head, studying him openly. “You.”
Silence.
Not awkward.
Heavy.
“I just—” you gestured vaguely between you, smiling a little softer now, “I have this feeling. Like… we’d get along really well.”
His jaw shifted.
“That so.”
“Mhm.” You leaned in just a little, lowering your voice like it was a secret. “Like really well.”
Something flickered behind his eyes then.
Not dismissal.
Not annoyance.
Something darker.
You felt it click into place.
—
He should’ve walked away.
He didn’t.
—
“Don’t you have a handler or something?” he asked after a beat, glancing over your shoulder.
“Oh—yeah.” You waved a hand. “Ashley. But she gets stressed easily.”
“Yeah. I can see why.”
You laughed.
He watched you.
Too closely.
“So,” you said, rocking back on your heels again, “do you want to come over?”
That landed.
Hard.
His eyes narrowed slightly. “You just invite strange men back to your place?”
“You’re not strange,” you said immediately.
A pause.
“…You’re you.”
That wasn’t better.
And yet—
He exhaled through his nose, something almost like a quiet laugh. “You got no sense of self-preservation, do you?”
“I do,” you said. “I just don’t think you’d hurt me.”
Another look.
Longer this time.
Like he was testing that.
“Yeah?” he murmured.
“Yeah.” You smiled again, softer now. Certain. “I just know.”
—
Your apartment was exactly what he expected.
And still—
“What the hell…” he muttered under his breath as he stepped inside.
Pink.
Everything pink.
Soft lighting. Plush textures. Clean. Controlled. Like a dollhouse.
Like you.
You shut the door behind him, turning with a small, pleased smile. “Do you like it?”
He looked at you.
Then around again.
“…It’s something.”
“That means no.”
“It means I don’t get it.”
“That’s okay.” You stepped closer, unbothered. “You don’t have to.”
You were close now.
Closer than before.
And you didn’t stop.
He noticed that.
Of course he did.
“You always this friendly?” he asked, voice lower now.
“Not really.”
“Then what’s this?”
You tipped your chin up, meeting his gaze without hesitation.
“I told you,” you said softly. “I have a feeling.”
His hand came up before you even realized it—fingers brushing your chin, tilting your face just slightly.
Testing.
You didn’t pull away.
Didn’t even flinch.
Just watched him.
Curious.
Open.
God.
“…You don’t know what you’re doing,” he muttered.
“Then show me.”
That did it.
Whatever restraint he had left snapped.
He moved fast—hand firm at your waist, pulling you in, your back hitting the edge of the bed as your breath caught.
But you didn’t panic.
Didn’t resist.
If anything—
You leaned into it.
Your arms came up around him, fingers brushing his shoulders, then higher—your eyes lighting up slightly.
“I like your beard,” you said, completely sincere.
He stared at you.
For half a second.
Then he laughed—low, disbelieving—and the sound of it sent something sharp down your spine.
“Yeah?” he said.
“Mhm.”
“You got a thing for bad decisions, sweetheart?”
You smiled.
“Maybe.”
—
The shift after that was immediate.
The teasing edge dropped.
What replaced it was heavier.
Slower.
Intentional.
He didn’t rush.
That was the thing you hadn’t expected.
Every movement was deliberate. Controlled. Like he was watching you as much as touching you—learning your reactions, your sounds, the way you responded to him.
And you—
You reacted to everything.
Too much, maybe.
But you couldn’t help it.
Everything felt new. Overwhelming in the best way. Your fingers gripping his shirt, your breath catching, your head tipping back as your body tried to keep up with sensations you didn’t have words for.
“That’s it,” he murmured at one point, voice rougher now. “Just like that.”
You didn’t know what you were doing.
But somehow—
It worked.
For both of you.
—
It built.
Slow at first.
Then faster.
Then—
Too much.
The feeling hit you all at once, sharp and consuming, your body tensing as something inside you snapped—
The lights flickered.
The walls trembled.
Something cracked—loud, sudden.
You gasped—
And the entire room shuddered.
—
He stilled.
For exactly one second.
Then his grip tightened.
And he smiled.
Not soft.
Not surprised.
Something darker.
“Yeah…” he muttered, almost to himself. “There it is.”
You barely had time to process it before he moved again—firmer now, more certain, like he’d just figured something out.
The room trembled again.
And this time—
He didn’t slow down.
—
After—
Everything felt quiet.
Too quiet.
You were sprawled across your bed, breathing uneven, your head resting against his shoulder without thinking.
He didn’t move.
Didn’t leave.
Which surprised you.
A little.
Your fingers traced absent patterns against his arm, soft, curious.
“…That was good,” you said after a moment.
He huffed a quiet laugh.
“Yeah,” he said. “It was.”
You tilted your head, looking up at him.
Smiling.
Soft. Content.
Like this was the most natural thing in the world.
Something in his expression shifted.
Just slightly.
—
Morning came slower than expected.
Warm.
Quiet.
You stirred first.
Then him.
Your eyes opened at the same time.
And for a second—
Neither of you moved.
Then you smiled.
Like nothing had changed.
Like everything had.
Your hand came up, fingers brushing his jaw gently, tilting his face toward yours.
“Hi,” you murmured.
He watched you.
Carefully.
Closely.
Like he still hadn’t decided what you were.
You didn’t wait.
You leaned in and kissed him again—soft, easy, certain.
Pairing: Billy Butcher x You (Reader) || Rating: Explicit || Word Count: 4k || BeYoursBB FIC MASTERLIST
Summary: Although you blend in with the boys on the outside, Butcher knows how to make you feel like a woman when he’s inside. (Timeline for this work is Season 5, Episode 1)
Author's Note: This is my longest and most self-indulgent piece of writing yet! I just kept wanting to throw in more cuz a masculine presenting straight woman like me still wants to be fucked like a princess hahaha.
Warnings: swearing, oral sex (female receiving), mutual masturbation kind of, spanking (just once lol), unprotected p in v, very light bondage (restrained but not actually tied up), little overstimulation and mention of size difference, creampie
Awake on your bunk, you stared up at the ceiling of the classroom you called your bedroom in the abandoned school that served as the boys’ safe house. It had been five days since Butcher, Annie, and Kimiko rescued you and the guys from Freedom Camp 47 and you were still adjusting. Unlike Hughie and Frenchie, who reconnected immediately with their partners, the person you had been most excited to see had hardly interacted with you besides an initial side hug of reunification.
The thought of reuniting with Butcher again was often the only thing that drove you forward when you were stuck in that internment camp for a year. You weren’t able to stay endlessly optimistic like Hughie. You didn’t dive into black market trading to keep busy like Frenchie. And you weren’t interested in beating up the other prisoners for entertainment like MM.
You were tough as nails, strong as a bull, and could fight as well as any one of the boys, but sometimes, you just wanted to be a girl. And a girl was allowed to daydream, even if those daydreams bordered a delusional crush on her older boss who would never, in any universe, reciprocate. On the most basic level, you just weren’t his type. Not that you really knew the women Butcher had been with, but from the ones you’d seen, you concluded at minimum, being gorgeous was a requirement — one that you didn’t physically meet in a traditionally feminine sense.
From the small mannerisms you developed, to the way you walked, talked, and dressed, your masculine exterior was all that most men saw, and passed on. Most days, the way you presented yourself did not bother you in the slightest; it was how you felt most comfortable in your own skin after all, and a man’s opinion was quite low on the list of things you valued. But on the rare occasion when you wanted someone specific to notice you, you couldn’t help but wish to lean more “girly.” If only you knew how to do a little makeup, or style your hair, or have the patience to paint your nails — maybe then you’d garner the attention you wanted. You looked to your friends, Annie and Kimiko, who were badass women just like you, but still had a feminine charm. You had yet to discover that balance for yourself.
You let out a huff and threw the blanket off. The only cure you had for restlessness was exercise, so you quietly changed out of your pajamas into a t-shirt and shorts, then tip-toed your way down the hallway to the classroom you used as a gym. It wasn’t the most complete set-up, but contained the essentials and even had an extra large mirror propped up so you could check your weightlifting form. You put down your water bottle, and connected your Bluetooth headphones to your favorite playlist.
You quickly found a flow state transitioning from your warm up routine to lower body lifts to an ab circuit to finishing with upper body lifts. Midway through, you got so hot you had to shed the shirt to use as a towel. Towards the end of your workout, you were so focused on doing single arm rows bent over on the bench, that you didn’t notice Butcher standing in the doorway until you looked up and saw his reflection in the mirror. You almost didn’t recognize him wearing only a white tank top, gray sweatpants, and…slides?
“Jesus!” You dropped the dumbbell to the floor with a loud thump and pushed your headphones down around your neck. You immediately sat down so your butt wasn’t up towards him anymore. “How long have you been standing there?”
“Long enough to see your form crap out on those rows,” he answered.
You rolled your eyes. “I’m a little out of practice. Freedom Camp didn’t really have equipment y’know.”
Butcher sat on the empty bench across from you. His eyes flicked up and down your body, almost imperceptibly. But it was enough to make you self-conscious of your worn out appearance. You removed your headphones, picked up your shirt to wipe yourself off, and left it hanging on one shoulder so it at least partially covered your damp chest.
“Even without, you’ve maintained your size. Maybe even got bigger.”
You stared at him blankly. He was complimenting you like a guy and internally you were screaming. Truthfully, you had worked very hard to maintain your physique in camp through body weight exercises despite a lack of protein and nutritious meals. If it was anyone else who mentioned this, you would have taken pride in them acknowledging your consistency, but the girl in you wished he hadn’t commented on your body at all.
“I know it was hard in there, luv,” he said, placing his hand on your knee. His touch sent a shock of electricity through you and you involuntarily squeezed your thighs together. “But I knew I didn’t have to worry about ya.”
You nodded, trying not to overthink his statement, when again, he meant well. He obviously had a lot of confidence that you’d be fine and hold your own, which you did. Nevertheless, it made your heart sink a little that he had no idea how much of your strength had come from the simple hope of seeing him again.
You took a swig from your water bottle. “So, why are you up? Can’t imagine you wanted to join for a quick midnight pump.”
Butcher raised his eyebrows slightly. “Hard to sleep with all that grunting yer doin’ in here.”
Warmth rushed to your face, remembering his bedroom was right next door, but you tried to play it cool. “My bad,” you answered. “I’m almost done.”
You stood, picking up the dumbbells to re-rack and replace them with a different weight for your last exercise, incline bench press.
“Need a spot?” he asked.
You nodded a “sure” and adjusted the bench from laying flat to propped up at a thirty degree angle. Butcher stood behind your head as you sat with both feet flat on the floor and each dumbbell resting on top of your thighs. You hiked up the weights one at a time, letting the momentum bring you back against the bench, then squeezed your shoulder blades together, causing your spine to arch and push your chest out.
Butcher hovered his hands under each of your elbows, following your movement up and down each rep in case you needed assistance. The first and second set were challenging enough — doable, but not easy. The third set was when you felt your arms start to shake.
“C’mon, luv, that’s all ya got?” Butcher challenged, refusing to support your arms. “I’ve seen you lift heavier than that.”
You grunted, muscles tense under the strain, until at last, you reached your failure point, unable to extend your arms fully anymore. You carefully lowered the dumbbells onto the floor on either side of you.
“Man, fuck you,” you panted, lungs heaving. “You’re not even helping.”
Butcher chuckled. “Got distracted. Was enjoying the view.”
You sat up and focused on his reflection in the mirror, tracking his eyes downcast. At the angle you had been laying back, then his gaze would align right above your…
As your brain connected the dots, Butcher’s hand came under your chin, twisting it to the side enough so you could choose to either maintain eye contact with him in the mirror, or talk to him face to face. He wasn’t harsh with it, yet it felt thrilling. Your boss was an inch away from giving you a hand necklace and that sent a wave of heat straight between your legs.
“Why‘ve you been avoiding me, luv?” Butcher questioned, in a much softer tone than you expected. “Did I really make ya that uncomfortable when we got back? Swear I didn’t see too much when you were changing outta those camp clothes.”
You stood, grabbing his wrist as you faced him, confusion morphing into defensiveness. “What are you talking about? I haven’t been avoiding—” You paused, processing, then released his forearm. “Wait— you— were checking me out?”
Butcher’s face contorted into something akin to taking offense. “What? Just ‘cause you got muscles ya think I’m not gonna fancy a peep? I still have eyes.”
He gave you the same once-over as earlier, but now you could definitely tell his gaze lingered on your breasts.
“You might borrow from the blokes’ closets, but I know you’re just a girl under alla those clothes.” His mustache gave away the slightest twitch of a smirk.
The nervous pit in your stomach — familiar when in Butcher’s presence — began to dissipate at this new information. You allowed yourself to take the chance to copy him, raking your eyes across his own muscular chest, dark hair peeking out from under the tank top, and down all the way to the faint outline of a bulge through his gray sweatpants. You bit your lip subconsciously, to which Butcher gave a smug grin.
“Speak ya mind, luv. I take it you like what you see as well?”
Replacing that dissipating unease was a swell of confidence. You smiled, relaxed, took a step back and crossed your arms in front of your chest. Your biceps flexed naturally, and you felt even more assured knowing that being buff wasn’t a deterrent but actually the baseline of his attraction to you.
You regarded him carefully, then took another chance. “You’ve seen me shirtless multiple times. It’s your turn to show some skin.”
Amusement flickered in Butcher’s hazel eyes but he didn’t hesitate, stripping off his tank top to join your shirt in its pile near the benches. “Careful darlin’,” he warned. “You sure this the way you want to get even?”
In mere seconds, your new-found confidence surged into brazen disregard for your dignity.
“I don’t want to get even. I want to get off.”
Once the words glided off the tip of your tongue, there was no taking them back. You did not have the slightest clue what possessed you to say them in the first place. But you promised to pray later to whatever higher power took hold because the searing kiss that followed was not anything you could have dreamed of. With the intensity Butcher planted his mouth on yours, the heat of desire would have melted you into a puddle had he not been clutching your neck and face in both of his big hands. With each breath he deepened the kiss, his tongue battling for dominance that you were more than willing to give into. You may have started this, but fuck if you knew how to finish it. It was out of your hands, and you were entirely in William Butcher’s.
“Cheeky little thing,” he muttered, reaching down and encircling your waist. In one fell swoop, he picked you up: one arm supporting your lower back and the other cradling your knees. Naturally, you draped your arms around his neck and immediately felt like a princess. The ease with which he carried you straight out of the gym and ducked you both through the door into his own room while never once breaking from the kiss made your heart flutter. He made you feel light as a feather, and you were still floating when he set you down in front of his bed.
You both stepped out of your shoes, and Butcher wasted no time yanking your shorts and underwear off, claiming a spot on his mattress in the process.
“C’mere,” he ordered as he laid back, motioning with his fingers. “Sit on my face.”
You scrambled on top of him, leaving a trail of kisses up his torso. You maneuvered yourself into a sixty-nine position, thighs straddling his head, then hesitated, hovering over his mouth.
“Don’t get shy on me now. You said you wanted something, and I can provide,” Butcher tsked playfully.
“You told me to speak my mind.”
“And I’m sure fuckin’ glad I did. Now sit.”
He pulled you down and the instant his tongue hit your entrance felt like fire and ice. Butcher lapped at you firmly and precisely, like he was painting a picture onto your walls, his tongue the brushstroke. His eyes were closed in a look of appreciation, savoring every drop of your essence while you basked in the awe of being his muse. You experimentally shifted your hips, your inner thighs scuffed by his scratchy beard as you grinded down into his face. With one arm holding your waist, he snaked his free hand into his own pants and revealed his swollen member. Without missing a beat, he stroked it in time to your movement.
“Fuck, Butcher,” you sighed in disbelief.
You always assumed he was big, and to get the front row seat to this delicious sight was unreal. Before you could stop yourself, two of your fingers flew to your clit and you rubbed quickly, a tight coil of pressure beginning to stir in the pit of your stomach. Balancing one hand on his abs, you leaned forward to wrap your lips around his cock, but he held you back with the hand around your midsection, as if to say “No, you just watch.”
So you did. You watched him touch and tease himself, noting how his fingers curled along the vein, deftly tugging at the head of his shaft every time his hand slid to the apex of it. His thumb spread the leaking precum across his tip and it took every ounce of restraint in you to not lick it up yourself. The pressure in your center steadily rose and you could feel a new sheen of sweat start to drip down your neck. Everything together — his display of self-pleasure, your own fingers on your clit, his beard soaked from you, and his dexterous tongue still intently exploring every inch of your slick pussy — threw you into a jolting climax. You came crying incoherent mumblings with the visual of Butcher handling himself at the same time he ate you burned into your memory. Your whole body shook, and your legs weakened, collapsing you, nearly suffocating the man responsible. No one had ever been able to do that before.
“Fuckin ‘ell, luv,” Butcher steadied you down into the empty space next to him, a single strangled breath escaping him. “You taste fuckin’ exquisite.”
He held you with both hands as he pressed kisses and bites along your neck and collarbone, his hot, hard length tucked into his clothes again, forming a tent. You breathed deeply, inhaling his manly scent, then helped yourself to his lips, glistening with the remnants of your sweet tanginess. When you pulled away after catching your breath, Butcher had a smirk plastered across his handsome mug.
“We haven’t even done your cardio yet, darlin’. I need ta know how gorgeous you look bouncin’ on my cock.”
You smiled at this suggestion, eagerly straddling his hips once he removed his bottom layers. Together you guided him into you, a relieved groan slipping from both your throats when his tip first breached your wet cunt. You took your time easing onto his girth, until he was buried in you to the hilt. Butcher relished in watching each inch disappear into you, his hazel eyes drinking you in.
“Let me see those beautiful tits,” he commanded, sitting up.
You whipped off your sports bra, tossing it behind you. Butcher cupped each tit, kneading the soft flesh, then followed with his mouth sucking each nipple to a hardened peak, prompting an arch in your back as you began grinding at a comfortable, even rhythm. The stretch to accommodate his size felt incredible, and you were at the perfect angle for your clit to rub against his pelvic bone.
“Butcher, you feel amazing,” you moaned.
“Just Billy, sweetheart,” he grunted. “Say the same for you—fuck—you’re so fuckin’ tight.”
Placing your arms around his neck kept him caged to your frontside. His mouth worked overtime to pepper you with hickies across your boobs while his rough hands glided up and down your spine causing goosebumps to rise over the sensitive skin. You threw your head back in blissful stimulation and quickened your pace, the tension in your core building again.
“You like this, don’t ya?” he asked. “You might fit in with the boys, but at the end of the day, you just want a real man to take care of ya.”
You nodded. “Please,” you exhaled, “Please, Billy, I need you.”
“How bad?”
You felt his hands drop to your waist with a sudden downward force, holding you still on top of his throbbing cock.
“How bad d’you need me?” he repeated. He leaned back, taking in the view of your growing desperation as you squirmed for friction, and peered up with a mischievous glint. “How long you been waitin’ to be split open on this cock?”
Without warning, he lifted and slammed you back down on his length, the sheer force from his pelvis meeting yours driving your whole body forward. You yelped and grabbed at his shoulders to hang on, digging your nails into his freckled skin as he set a punishing pace. Each thrust hit that spot deep inside that you could never quite reach yourself, the spot that made your eyes roll back into your skull and melted your brain to mush. Words escaped you, and forming sentences was unfathomable.
“Still pretendin’ you're shy?” Butcher smacked his palm against the thick of your ass, forcing a vulgar noise out of you. Your eyes snapped open to meet his, which were darkening with lust every passing minute. The way he was bucking into you was mind-numbing — rough, passionate, like he was racing himself to witness you come undone for him.
“Billy,” you whined, barely able to hear yourself over the obscene sounds of slapping skin. The unbearable heat emanating from your core felt like it would combust, and your body tensed.
“Good, just like that,” Butcher encouraged. “Don’t put on a front with me. I got ya, pretty girl.”
You emitted a pathetic whimper at his coaxing. Butcher studied your every reaction like a hawk. He slowed down enough to pull you into a greedy kiss, as if you weren’t already totally consumed by all of him. As his tongue danced with yours, he focused his ministrations on your swollen clit, his fingers gently teetering you on the edge of ecstasy while relinquishing his control of the tempo to your own grinding hips.
“Shit—” you cursed. “Billy, I—I’m so close.”
“You gonna come for me, sweetheart? Just let go.”
His voice was milder now, not as demanding. As the tension rose to its peak, you caught his eyes again, still dark with an intense hunger, but also with a flicker of something deeper in them.
You quickly grasped the word: yearning. Yes, that’s what it was, had to be. He yearned for this moment as much and as fiercely as you. Your body, mind, and heart settled for a moment realizing this; then his next words arrived like an invitation.
“Let me feel you come on this cock.”
With a gasp, shockwaves coursed through your body up to the crown of your head all the way down to your curled toes, making you shudder as your walls clenched around him. Butcher was so deep, you could have sworn he rearranged an organ or two. Your juices coated him thoroughly, seeping out and slicking his balls.
“Tha’s it, tha’s it, pretty girl. You feel so fuckin’ good—Give it to me,” Billy groaned, his words steering you through your roller coaster of pleasure while he enjoyed every sight and sound of you falling apart for him all over again.
You planted your hands firmly on his chest to stabilize yourself as you continued riding out your high. Exhaustion from your previous two hour workout was finally catching up to you. Your lower body was sore, especially your quads, and your arms slowly turned to jelly, to the point where by the time your movement stilled, you were laying almost flat against the wide expanse of Butcher’s torso, fingers entwined in his thick hair, your lungs struggling for oxygen. You felt so fucked out, it didn’t even register that Billy flipped you over to your back until your wrists were pinned above your head in one of his big hands and his weight was pushing you into the mattress.
He smirked, looking down at the wet, wheezing mess he made of you. His eyes seemed to glow with a renewed, enlivened thirst. You realized he still had not finished, and instead had pulled out, trailing his heavy, rock-hard member through your damp folds. He leaned down to nip at your exposed biceps and you trembled from the new sensation.
“Yer so strong, luv,” he cooed. “How’s it feel to be so small for once?”
On cue, you tested yourself and strained against his grasp. As expected, he didn’t budge. You couldn’t help but giggle. “Feels nice, Billy.”
Tossing your legs over his shoulders, he pressed down even harder, simultaneously plunging into you with one harsh thrust. You were given no time to adjust before Butcher was back to fucking you like a madman, and honestly, you could hardly blame him at this point. He had been edging himself all night for you to get yours first; you were ready for him to devour all that was left of you for his.
“Fuck!” you screamed. “You’re so fuckin’ big, Billy, I can’t—”
“You can take it, luv,” he rasped, one hand on your waist while the other still anchored your wrists above which would surely show bruises tomorrow. “I ain’t gonna break ya. Just need a little more.”
At the current angle, with your feet in the air, your face practically between your knees, and his dick assaulting both your g-spot and clit, your whole body was twitching with overstimulation.
“Billy, please,” you begged, close to tears. “I need you to come inside me, now.”
“One more time, gorgeous, and I’ll fill you up. Wan’ta feel your pretty cunt come one more time.”
With all the strength you had left, you wrapped your ankles around his neck, your calves digging into his shoulders and forcing his head down towards yours, close enough for you to kiss him. The surprise attack loosened his grip on you, and you slipped both hands out from under him, one tugging the hair on the back of his head as you made out, the other landing on your sensitive clit. Sparks flew instantly at your touch and for the second time, your pussy trapped Butcher’s aching cock in a vice. The pounding of his hips synched with the pounding of your heartbeat echoing in your ears, which drowned out the growl he released as he broke away from your lips. With furrowed concentration, he held you down as he kept his promise and filled you with streak after streak of his warm sticky cum.
Completely dazed and speechless, your whole body spasmed with after shocks as Butcher pulsed inside you until softening. Carefully, he untangled your bodies, rolling you onto your stomach. Propping himself up on an elbow, he used his other hand to massage your tired muscles, starting at your shoulders, and working his way down your back, to your glutes, and hamstrings.
“Not sure how we’ll top that, luv,” Butcher admitted after a few minutes. “But it was a long pent up year for me. I ain’t gonna wait anymore when it comes to you.”
You side-eyed him quizzically, brows tilted. “You saying you missed me?”
“Just ‘cause I wasn’t worried about you, doesn’t mean I wasn’t thinkin’ about ya. Felt fuckin’ sick when I heard you got picked up with the others. ‘M sorry I didn’t break ya out sooner.”
You couldn’t help smiling. “I missed you too. Had no idea I was your type though.”
Butcher scoffed. “What type did you think I liked? I ain’t tryna fuck a fairy.”
He leaned down, the bed frame creaking as it shifted under his body and you could feel his overbearing weight on top of you again. He grabbed the back of your neck as he kissed your temple, then stayed next to your ear.
“But if you ever try another fuckin’ jiu jitsu move on me, I promise I’ll throw you in a position yer never gettin’ out of.”
omg write more hate fuck diva!!! but make it both sides wants to be dominant one love you<333 female reader if it’s okay with you💋
I am here to deliver 🙂↕️
The fight for dominance
MDNI!!
-Warnings:Billy Butcher x female reader,blink and you’ll miss it CNC,power dynamics,rough play,verbal aggression ,strong language,biting,hair pulling,mutual ejaculation.
-Summary: So, the mission went to total hell and you and Butcher are back at the safehouse absolutely fuming at each other. Both of you are trying to call the shots, neither is willing to budge, and the tension is just peaking. It goes from shouting matches to a proper messy power struggle where he finally decides he’s had enough of the back and forth and decides to show you exactly who’s in charge..the hard way.
————
The heavy steel door of the safehouse slammed shut, the sound echoing like a gunshot through the room. You barely had time to plant your feet before Billy shoved you, his hand a heavy, calloused weight against your shoulder that sent you stumbling back against the wall.
"You were meant to wait for my signal, you daft cow!" he roared, his face a masterpiece of fury and adrenaline. "Did ya leave yer brain back at the compound? You nearly got yerself killed, an’ for what? To play hero?"
"And you were too slow, Billy!" you spat back, stepping right into his space and shoving him in the chest. You didn't care that he towered over you..you twisted your hands into his shirt, bunching the fabric until your knuckles went white. "If I had waited for you, we both would have been killed! Stop acting like I’m some liability you have to babysit."
The air was electric and thick with the scent of ozone and unspent rage. You stood your ground, glaring up into his face with everything you had. He went to pin your wrists to the wall, his massive frame looming over you to box you in, but you twisted out of his grip, grabbing a fistful of his hair instead and yanking his head down hard to your level.
"Think you’re in charge, do you?" you hissed, your voice low and defiant. "Maybe in the field, but not right now, and certainly not with me."
Billy let out a dark, guttural growl, his eyes darkening with a mix of genuine irritation and something much more dangerous. He reached out, his hand clamping around your throat..not to hurt you, but to hold you exactly where he wanted..and his thumb grazed your jawline.
"I am in charge, yeah?" he rasped, his voice dropping to a low threat that vibrated against your skin. "Always. And I’m gonna make sure you don't forget it, no matter how much ya scream. You want to act like a bloody nuisance? I’ll show ya exactly what happens to those who don’t listen."
He lunged, his teeth grazing your neck before he bit down, hard enough to leave a mark. You gasped, a sharp sound of defiance, and immediately countered by sinking your own teeth into the meat of his shoulder, hearing him grunt in surprise. It was frantic and brutal, just two people trying to break each other's resolve.
He wrestled you onto the sofa, his superior weight pinning you down, but you thrashed beneath him, nails digging into his back as you fought to flip him over, to force him underneath you.
"Still fightin', are ya?" Billy breathed against your ear, his hand tangling deep in your hair to pull your head back, forcing you to look at him. "Let’s see how much fight ya got left when I’m actually done with ya, you daft sod."
You glared up at him, breathless and unyielding. "Then quit talkin' and show me, unless you’re all talk, Billy."
His grin twisted into something predatory, his eyes glinting with a dangerous, dark amusement. He didn't answer instead, he grabbed your hips with those massive, scarred hands and hauled you up, flipping you onto your stomach. You hit the sofa hard, your face sinking into the cushions, breath hitching as you tried to scramble up, your nails digging into the fabric to anchor yourself.
"Not so fast, sweetheart," Billy growled, his voice a gravelly rumble that vibrated through the sofa. "You wanted to fight, didn't ya? Well, let's see how you like it when I’m properly in charge."
He didn't bother with finesse. With a sharp and violent tug, he shredded the denim of your jeans and yanked your panties down to your knees in one go. You could feel the cool air on your skin, followed instantly by his hot, heavy presence looming over you. You were already slick, your pussy aching and dripping, desperate for the friction you’d been denying yourself all day. Behind you, you heard the metallic clack of his belt buckle and the heavy slide of his zipper.
"Look at ya," he hissed, his hand clamping down on your lower back to hold you flat against the cushions. "Soakin' wet and beggin' for it. You think you're gonna be on top? Think again, love."
He didn't wait. He braced himself against you, his heavy, rock hard cock pressing against your entrance. You tried to shift, to turn your head to glare at him, but he shoved your face back into the cushions with his palm, muffling your gasp.
"Stay still, you stubborn little shite," he commanded, his voice dark and possessive.
He lunged, slamming into you with one deep, brutal thrust. The force of it knocked the air out of your lungs, the sheer size of him stretching you until you felt completely full, completely claimed. You let out a muffled cry into the cushions, your body arching reflexively as he filled you, his touch rough and demanding.
The rhythm of his hips was relentless, a punishing rhythm that drove you deeper into the cushions until your lungs burned. You were kicking your legs back, your heels drumming against his thighs and glutes in a frantic losing battle to regain some shred of control, but every movement only seemed to invite him to hit you harder. He kept his palm firmly pressed against the back of your head, pinning your face into the fabric and muffling your whimpers, effectively stripping away your ability to even protest.
"Still kickin', are ya?" Billy growled, his voice a gravelly rasp against your ear. "Won't do ya any good, love. You’re finished fightin' me. Just take it and be quiet."
As his hand shifted to grip your hip, his thumb digging into your skin, a sudden blinding tension began to coil in your core. You bit down hard on the cushion, forcing yourself to stay silent. You refused to give him the satisfaction of a verbal surrender, even as your body betrayed you. Your walls began to clench around him, twitching in rhythmic, involuntary waves of pleasure that you couldn't hide.
Butcher let out a rough, pleased exhale, the friction between you turning frantic as he felt you tightening around him. "There it is," he murmured, his voice dropping into a low, possessive growl. "I can feel ya comin', can't I? Look at ya, tryin' to stay quiet for me..but your body's givin' you away, you little liar. Tell me how good it feels to be properly filled by me, yeah?"
He didn't slow down. Instead, he shoved into you with renewed, savage force, his own breathing hitching as he neared his own peak. He didn't bother pulling out, his movements becoming desperate and heavy as he slammed into you one last, brutal time, pinning you completely against the sofa.
"Fuck," he groaned, his voice cracking as he surged deep, his entire weight pressing you down as he emptied himself inside you. "All mine. Fuckin' hell, every bit of that heat is mine."
He stayed braced against your back for a long moment, chest heaving and his breath hot against your neck, his hands gripping your hips with a bruising intensity as he rode out his own climax. When he finally pulled back slightly, his voice was still rough, dripping with the dark, smug satisfaction of a man who had won the war. "Told ya, didn't I? You were always gonna be beggin' for it, and I was always gonna be the one to give it to ya."
———-
I fucking loved writing this! Apologies that it took me a while to publish..I have so many requests I’m working through, lol. Thanks again for all the love!🖤
I can’t believe a thousand people like reading my smutty and unhinged stories! 😍🔥
I honestly just started posting for my own entertainment and meet other fanfiction lovers. Thank you so much for all the likes, comments, reblogs, and follows! You’re feedback is so helpful and warms my heart every time someone leaves a comment😭🩵
Please leave suggestions in my inbox, I add them to my list of ideas I want to write and post. I’m always working on something but I’m a perfectionist so it takes me forever lol💌
Idk if you do Soldier Boy but if you do I have kind of a toxic request🫠
So you’re Soldier Boy’s PR-wife that stays home, keeps his house, warms his bed, his arm candy at events and galas and such. You know he’s out fucking other women and doing all kinds of shit, but he fucks and treats you so good when he’s home that you don’t really mind it too much.
As long as daddy has enough energy for his little wife and spoils her like a princess, you’ll have a pot roast and a manhattan waiting to him every night🫣
I love your writing! Thank you for taking my past requests. Much love🩵🐾
Ooooooo
The golden standard
MDNI!!
-Warnings:Solider boy x fem reader,husband/wife dynamic,pet names,power play,Ben’s chest blast play,power dynamic, slight mention of cheating,kissing,ejaculation.
-Summary: After a night spent with others, Soldier Boy returns home to his PR wife, who maintains their shared life with domestic perfection. Their reunion quickly turns intense, as the physical connection…heightened by the touch sensitivity of his chest..leads to a raw, possessive encounter that reminds her exactly who is in charge.
————
The front door clicked shut, the heavy sound echoing through the foyer. You didn't even look up from your book in the lounge, though you caught the familiar scent of his cologne and a faint, lingering hint of perfume that definitely wasn't yours. You knew where he’d been, but as the rhythmic thud of his boots grew louder, you just kept your cool.
Ben walked in, jacket slung over one shoulder, his tie loose and hanging around his neck. He looked tired, that world weary look he wore like a second skin, but his eyes zeroed in on you immediately.
"Evenin', sweetheart," he drawled, his voice a deep, gravelly baritone. He leaned against the doorframe, watching you with a smirk. "House smells like dinner. You been a good little wife today?"
You set your book aside and stood up, smoothing down your dress. "Pot roast is in the oven, Ben. Manhattan's on the side table, just how you like it."
He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound, and walked over to wrap a massive arm around your waist, pulling you flush against him. He wasn't subtle about the fact that he was coming home from someone else, but he didn't care, and honestly, neither did you. He grabbed his drink and took a long pull, his gaze dropping to your neckline.
"Always taken care of, ain't ya, doll?" he murmured, leaning down to press a kiss against your temple. "I don't know what I’d do without you waitin' here."
"Probably waste away," you teased, tracing the line of his jaw.
"Maybe," he grinned, his hand slipping down to firmly squeeze your hip. "But you know I love it when you play the part. Looked damn good on my arm at that gala last night, by the way. Made every other suit in the room look like they were dressed by their mothers."
He set his drink down and suddenly scooped you up into his arms, carrying you bridal style toward the bedroom. He kicked the door open and tossed you onto the bed, immediately shucking his jacket and pulling his shirt over his head, revealing that broad, scarred chest.
He was between your legs in a second. He bunched your dress up to your waist, his hands working quickly to rip your panties down, his fingers grazing your already soaking wet heat. He didn't bother undressing fully, just unbuckled his belt and shoved his trousers down to his thighs.
"Look at that," he muttered, his eyes darkening as he watched you dripping for him. "Ready and waitin', just like a good girl should be."
As he moved to position you on your hands and knees, you reached out, your fingertips tracing the hard, hot skin of his chest. The moment your skin made contact, a faint, pulsing yellow glow emanated from beneath his skin, dim but unmistakable. Ben let out a low involuntary groan, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise as the sensation sent a jolt of pleasure straight through him.
"God... don't do that, doll," he rasped, his voice dropping to a hungry, pained growl. "You know what that does to me."
You whimpered, the feeling of his power humming against your skin making your head spin. "It feels so good, Ben... just keep going," you gasped, your nails digging into his skin as you stroked the glowing center of his chest.
He shoved into you in one single, brutal motion, filling you so completely it stole the air from your lungs. He started with a slow, grinding rhythm, bottoming out against you with every thrust, making you moan into the mattress. As he picked up the pace, he slapped his hand against your ass, his movements becoming aggressive and demanding.
"Look at me," he commanded, his hand reaching forward to grab a fistful of your hair and force your head back. "I’m the only one allowed to fill you like this. Forget everyone else. I’m the only one who matters."
He slammed into you, deeper and harder, the friction turning your senses into static. Every time he pushed in, he ground his pelvis against you, his heavy, rhythmic thrusts vibrating through your entire body. He was relentless, his own breathing ragged and heavy.
"Yeah, that’s it," he groaned, his voice thick with the pleasure of it. "You’re mine. All mine to break apart and put back together. You love it when I take control, don’t ya, doll?"
He drove into you until you were mindless, your body betraying you with every shuddering, wet contraction around him. As he neared the edge, he lunged forward, capturing your lips in a deep, ravenous kiss, his tongue invading your mouth, tasting you as he bucked into you one final time, pouring himself into you. He didn't break the kiss, keeping his tongue tangled with yours as you both collapsed into the aftermath.
He stayed braced against your back, his heavy frame weighing you down, his chest heaving as he slowly regained his breath, still pressing his face into yours. "Always come home to you, doll," he whispered against your lips, his voice still ragged and dark with satisfaction. "Never forget that."
———-
Sorry this took a while to publish! I won’t lie, I was struggling a little with capturing the way Soldier Boy speaks, but I think I did pretty okay in the end. Thanks for all the love!🖤
summary: Ben comes home after a long day and he’s not happy about finding you with a toy doing his job
warnings: 18+, MDNI, explicit sexual content, established relationship, possessive ben, dirty talk, rough sex, spanking, edging/orgasm denial
─────────｡ ₊°༺❤︎༻°₊ ｡────────
The air in the apartment shifts the moment the sound of the front door echoes through the hall.
Ben is home, and he’s in a foul mood.
Vought had dragged him into some last-minute disaster after a mission went sideways. By the time he finally got home, he was tired, irritated, and all he wanted was a stiff drink and his girl.
He shut the door behind him with a heavy click.
Then he heard you.
A soft gasp from down the hallway.
Then another.
Ben froze near the kitchen island, eyes narrowing.
For one sharp second, something ugly twisted in his chest. The thought hit fast and violent.
Someone else. Someone else was in there, with you.
But the thought disappeared almost immediately.
You wouldn’t.
Not you.
You adored him too much for that. You clung to him like he hung the damn moon. Always crawling onto his lap, always touching him, kissing him, always waiting for him to come home. You looked at him like he was the center of your damn world. And God, he loved that. Loved how dependent you were on him. Loved knowing you needed him more than anybody else. You’re the one thing in this world that belongs entirely to him, and he prides himself on the way you lean on him for everything.
But another moan drifted through the apartment. A sound he knew so well coming from you. And even knowing it wasn’t another man, the sound still made something furious rise in him.
Because something was making you moan like that.
Something that wasn’t him.
That alone made him feel sick.
Ben moved fast down the hallway to your shared bedroom, boots heavy against the floor.
And there you were, tangled in the sheets, your breath catching every few seconds as the toy buzzed between your thighs, a place Ben considered his. The room was dark besides the bedside lamp, your head thrown back against the pillows, completely distracted by the feeling.
“You gotta be fuckin’ kidding me” He finally spoke, voice sharp.
You jolted upright instantly, eyes wide.
“Ben, I-”
He crossed the room before you could even finish. He was already riled up beyond reason, seeing how that stupid toy is doing the job he considers his divine right.
The toy was ripped from your grasp so fast it startled you, and a second later he slammed it hard against the wall.
You stared at him “Ben-”
“The fuck is this?” He snapped, breathing hard already “You seriously in here makin’ yourself come with this piece of shit?”
His voice was rough, offended in a deeply possessive, arrogant way.
“That little piece of plastic got you making those sounds?” He muttered harshly “Got you spread open in my bed?”
Your face burned instantly.
“You that desperate you can’t wait a few goddamn hours for me?” He asks sharply.
You opened your mouth again, flustered “You were taking so long, I-”
“Then you fucking wait for me”
The answer came instantly. Like it was obvious. Like there was no other acceptable option.
Ben stood over the bed now, staring down at you with a dangerous intensity. Angry, yes. But underneath it was something worse. Possession. Ego. That caveman belief that you belonged to him and him alone.
“You think I wanna come home and find you letting some bullshit toy do my fucking job for me?” He growled “You got this cheap little piece of shit between your legs where I’m supposed to be”
His hand gripped your jaw suddenly, not enough to hurt, but enough to make you look at him.
“I’m the only one who gets to make you feel good” He said lowly “You understand me?”
“Ben…”
“Say it” He cut you off.
You hesitated just enough for his grip on your jaw to tighten slightly.
“Say your pleasure belongs to me”
“My pleasure belongs to you” You whisper.
Ben stared at you for another long second before climbing fully onto the bed with you. The anger hadn’t disappeared. If anything, it had turned into something lower, hotter, more possessive.
His hand widened your legs roughly, sliding from your thigh to your core. The second he felt how wet you already were, his expression twisted.
Usually he loved that.
Loved seeing you desperate for him.
But right now?
Right now all he could think about was the fact that something else had done it.
His jaw clenched hard.
“Jesus fucking Christ” He muttered darkly “Look at you” He grunted “All this for that fucking thing?”
His fingers pressed harder against you, making you whimper.
“No” He said firmly “That’s mine. No one else gets this. No man. No toy. No fucking anything”
He stopped his ministrations abruptly, leaving you panting and frustrated.
“You gonna do that shit again?” He grumbled.
You swallowed “I-”
“You’re not” He cut you off sharply “Because you don’t need that shit. You need me” He growled “You only sound like that for me”
He loams over you, pinning your wrists above your head with one hand. The grip is like iron, immovable and possessive. He leans down, his face inches from yours, his voice dropping into a dangerous tone.
"I don't care how fucking desperate you get. If you’re aching, you wait for me to fix it” He growls "You think some piece of junk knows what you need? It’s an insult. Everything you feel, every breath you take like that, it’s mine. I’m the only one who gets to make you lose your mind. Not some toy, and sure as hell not yourself"
He doesn’t give you a second to process. The fury is still rolling off him in waves, but now it’s mixed with that suffocating, macho pride he carries with him. He shoves you over, forcing you face-down against the pillows with a strength that reminds you exactly who he is; the strongest man on the planet.
"Since you couldn't wait for me, I guess we’re doing this the hard way"
The first strike of his palm against your ass is sharp and heavy, echoing in the quiet room. It stings, making you gasp.
But he doesn’t stop at one.
"That's for thinking a fucking toy could replace me" He grunts, smacking you again "And that's for being a brat while I was out working"
When he finally stops, your skin is tingling and your breath hitching. He flips you back over, his eyes taking in the way you’re looking at him; flushed, breathless, needy.
His favorite thing in the world.
He moves over you, his hand sliding between your legs again with a deliberate, agonizing slowness. His fingers start working you, but just like before, he stops. Every time you start to drift, every time your back arches and your eyes begin to roll back, he pulls away just enough to leave you stranded on the edge, breathless and begging.
"Look at me" He commands, his hand now tangling in your hair to keep your eyes locked on him "You're not coming until I say so. You want to feel good? You earn it from me. Not from anything else"
He does it again and again, bringing you right to the top of pleasure before ruthlessly pulling you back. He watches your frustration grow with a smirk, loving the knowledge that he has total control over your body.
The second you tried pulling him closer, he pinned your wrists down with one hand and smirks at you, enjoying your frustration “Oh, now you’re desperate” He mocked “Where’s your little toy now, huh?”
“Ben, please” You whimper.
“What? Want me to make you feel good?”
You nodded quickly.
He laughed under his breath at that, low and arrogant.
“Yeah” He murmured “That’s what I thought”
His fingers slid between your legs again, rubbing slow circles over your clit until your body started trembling all over.
Every time you got close—
He stopped.
Again.
And again.
He dragged you to the very precipice of a climax before abruptly withdrawing, leaving you gasping and desperate. His smirk widens. He loves knowing that he is the only person on who can fix the ache he’s creating "Look at you" He mocks "Can’t handle it when I stop for two seconds"
Finally, when he’s decided you’ve learned your lesson, he stops the games. He settles between your legs with a proprietary force. He enters you with a single, deep thrust that almost knocks the air from your lungs.
“Fuck—” Ben groaned low in his throat at the feeling of you wrapping around him.
He claims you with a rough, possessive intensity, his movements powerful and unapologetic.
“Tell me” He demanded roughly “That fucking toy make you feel this full?”
“N-No”
“Didn’t think so” Another hard thrust punched a cry from your mouth “That stupid fucking toy could never do this” He groaned “Could never make you feel what I do”
The bed frame creaked under you, and every thrust is a reminder of his strength, of his ownership over you.
He finally lets himself go, making sure you go with him. It leaves you shaking and clinging to his broad shoulders.
He stays heavy on top of you, breathing hard, looking down at you with a dark, satisfied triumph.
"That's my girl" He mumbles roughly, kissing your forehead with a rough tenderness that’s still layered with ego and possessiveness.
“And next time?” He continued “You fucking wait for me” Ben lowered his head closer to your ear “Because no one…” He said slowly “Nothing…” He squeezed of your thigh “Is ever gonna make you come like I can”
note: this is my first one shot and english is not my first language so please excuse whatever mistakes you may find 🙈
【⠀new ִ ࣪𝑠ᴀvᴇ 𝑓ɪʟᴇ ׅ🎮 】 hello dear bunny reader !! thank you for this request, I've been meaning to post this as a full fic but i figured it was too short so hopefully you enjoy!
🇹🇦🇬🇸 : boss!ben, pervy ben, age gap, power imbalance, mean ben, slight sir kink, slight breeding kink, unprotected p in v, light impact play, light choking, degradation.
Working for Ben was a mistake. A nightmare.
You figured that out sometime during your second week, right around the point he stopped pretending to be professional. It wasn't subtle either, oh no, Ben wasn't the kind of man who did subtle. He stared when he felt like staring, said whatever came into his head, tested you more and more.
He was mean, and even that is an understatement. One day he'd lean against your desk, call you "pretty girl" and so obviously stare down you blouse, seeing what pretty bra you decided to wear today, the next day he'd rip into you because somebody else screwed something up.
"you're useless." "dumb fuckin' kid." "can't do one goddamn thing right."
"You always this slow?" Then he’d already be looking away, because the conversation was done whether you agreed or not. Nothing ever seemed to matter when Ben was in a bad mood.
"C'mon, sweet girl. One drink."
"No, sir."
"Why? You a stuck up?"
Because you were his employee? Because he was old enough to be you father? Because he was an asshole? But you never got that far.
Ben would just roll his eyes as if you were the difficult one.
The annoying part was that he never stopped. Not after you said no, not after the second no, not after the tenth.
One day you'd get a lazy "Mornin', doll." The next it'd be "You can't actually be this fuckin' stupid." And somehow neither one felt stranger than the other, because it always made your belly twist in the best way.
Maybe you should've reported him. Maybe you were actually that fucking stupid, because why would you let him treat you that way? Maybe you enjoyed it more than you wanted to admit. Maybe he was telling you to stay away from him while already looking for reasons to drag you closer. Because why else would you keep letting him get away with it? Why else would your stomach still flip every time he walked into a room and stared at you like a hungry wolf?
You should've listened to the logical part of your brain. Instead, you kept finding yourself in his office. Finding excuses to stay a little longer after meetings, finding yourself alone with him more often. You enjoyed it, his attention, it was gratifying in a way, no matter how much of a cruel asshole Ben was, and the fact that he was the most handsome man you’d ever seen wasn’t helping either. And he knew that, oh, Ben knew. He knew that no matter how much he pushed you down you'd always crawl your way back to him. You always came back into his orbit because it was the only place you were meant to be. Because you were a good girl. Really, you listened to authority, respected him because of his age, his position. You were a good girl, and he was an awful, awful man.
The office is empty at this hour.
Ben growls at the sight of you already spreading yourself like some desperate slut on his messy desk. The grip on his cock tightens as he steps closer, pressing the thick head against your dripping entrance. "Done bein' a fuckin' tease?" Ben asks and all you can do is nod all meek, but he doesn't like that answer very much. Pain shoots through your scalp as he harshly pulls at your hair. "Speak." He tuts. "Y-Yes, 'm done.. I'm sorry— sorry, sir.." The words stumble out through a soft whine.
Ben laughs mean. "You ain't sorry, sugar." A determined thrust buries him to the hilt in one brutal move, stealing a ragged cry from your lips as he bottoms out inside your tight pussy.
"Oh my gosh—" You suck in a deep breath to stop yourself from crying, grabbing onto his shoulders for support.
Ben swallows. "Fuckin' hell.. So tight, baby." He loves how he's already stretching you out, how you're so responsive just for him, a mess. He loves how you looked right now, and your noises, god, the sounds were shooting straight to his dick getting him harder than he ever has been.
"That's right— look at that, doll. That all the way in, just lemme own this sweet little pussy of yours, mkay?" Ben roughly pats at your cheek as you wriggle your hips, urging him to move. A rough thrust punches another sob out of you, his smirk only widening. "Greedy bitch."
God.. he loves having you just like this, all desperate, crying and trembling against him like his personal little toy. Ben knew you'd eventually fall, they all do, one way or another. He's for sure keeping you after this, he thinks to himself.
"So goddamn desperate for cock, huh? Bein' a little tease for the past few months.. Testing me, just to get me all worked up and wantin' you. I was so obsessed with you, baby, from the first moment you opened that pretty mouth, jesus." Another pathetic moan cascades out of your open mouth. "Thinkin' you could refuse me, what a silly, stupid girl." Ben lets out a short laugh as he bullies deeper into your pussy. "You just wanted me to snap, didn't you? Wanted me to finally go crazy and fuck you right?"
His hips snap wildly up into you, the obscene squelch of your pussy echoing through the empty office. "H-Hah— yes~"
Ben smiles proudly at the sound of your broken voice, his thrusts getting rougher, harder, meaner. His grip on your hips tightens as he drags you onto him with every snap of his body. A sharp slap to your face makes you yelp as he leans in closer, lips brushing against the shell of your ear. "You want me to fill this pretty little cunt up? Want me t'mark ya from inside out?"
You cried out, all high-pitched, pathetic really, Ben thinks. You're already this stupid and he hasn't even fucked you properly yet. "Yes, please, please y—es!"
His thrusts turn brutal, slamming into you with enough force to knock you forward on the desk, knees now pressed to your chest.
"Gonna breed ya full and leave ya right here until morning so people know who they're workin' with. Yeah, she likes that.." A rough growl rumbles in his chest as he feels your pussy clenching around him in fast pulses.
"Gonna make sure everyone knows exactly who owns her, ain't that right?" His hands slide up to grip your throat "Say it."
A sharp thrust urges another cry out of you as he comes in closer, his voice demanding.
"Tell me who owns this pretty cunt, tell me whose cum's gonna be dripping outta ya."
"You— you do-" you mewl, legs falling around his hips "Yours, jus' yours, sir, only yours!"
Ben hums, the sound ripping from his throat as he slams into you one last time. His grip on your throat tightens as he spills deep inside you, hot and thick spurts of come painting your gummy walls.
"Oh, mhff, fuuh—" you breathe out, back arching against the desk as you finally come over the edge too, whole body convulsing into his hold, mind a fuzzy mess.
Ben smiles as he feels you tighten even more around his cock, body spasming, cunt milking every last drop of his come. The grip on your throat loosens just enough to let you breathe, but he doesn’t pull out just yet.
"Ah yeah.. Look at that." A chuckle rumbles in his chest as he watches the way some of his release spills from you the moment he moves back only a little.
"Gonna be feelin’ this for days, sugar. You'll be walkin’ funny.."
You can only pant like a helpless puppy, back flat against the cold surface. Ben clicks his tongue and pulls out a bit more. He hums in satisfaction as he watches his cum leak out of you, walls still twitching like they're trying to keep him inside forever.
"Tch. Messy fuckin' girl.. Can't even hold my load, huh?" Ben drags a finger through the mess, pushing it back inside with a slow thrust just to feel you squirm. "Gonna have t'make sure this stays put next time."
You whimper, immediately squeezing aroud the thick digits "W-wait, sir, too sensitive—"
He grins sharp, his other hand gripping your chin, forcing you to look at him. "Poor girl. Shoulda thought about that before beggin' for it like a slut." Ben mocks.
A rough plunge of his fingers makes you choke and he leans in closer, voice dropping into something grave. "I'll make sure this gets through your thick skull, 'til you learn your lesson. Gonna have ta fill ya up again just t'make my point."
Ben withdraws his fingers slowly, leaving you feeling cold and empty. He grabs your hips, hoisting you off the desk, and drags you over to the couch against the west wall of his office, practically tossing you onto it.
"On your knees, princess. Ain't done with you just yet."
You're wondering if you're gonna get that promotion any time soon.
✦Read on aO3! - Masterlist - Soldier Boy Masterlist✦
✦summary: ben starts acting rather strange. being quiet. hitting on you less. making sure you eat. you're worried, even though he doesn't want you to be. you never could've guessed the reason why.✦
✦warnings/tags: Soldier Boy x female!reader, no use of y/n, no description of reader, age gap (he's a hundred), light angst, softer!ben in a way (as soft as he can get lmao), canon divergance, pining, plot to earn the smut (panty stealing/kink, posessiveness, teasing, messy sex, size kink, dry humping, sex pollen, stripping, body worship, dom!Ben, blowjobs, finger sucking, masturbation, fingering, begging, nipple play, manhandling, oral f!reciving, pussy spanking, overstimulation, praise and degredation kink, clit abuse, creampie, monster dick ben, rough sex, this man is a sex god, just so many orgasms, dumbification, dacryphilia, hyperspermia, squirting), love confessions, fluff✦
✦wc: 10.3k✦
✦author's note: request! i dare to ask the question. can this man get hornier✦
Ben is being quiet. It’s incredibly worrying.
You’d been waiting for them to get back from the mission on the couch, and he’d stormed into the room like the world outside was on fire. You’d sat up with wide eyes, and he’d gone perfectly still. His face had been red, his eyes blown out, his attention almost burning through you.
“Ben?” You’d whispered, unsure if you should be running to him, or as far away as you could get. “Are you- Is there something wrong-“
He’d lurched back, blinking wildly. You’d sat up on your knees, ready to reach for him, and he’d taken a staggered step back.
“Ben-“
He’d marched into the meeting room like something was dragging him there. You’d sat on the couch for another minute, staring blankly after him until the rest of the team came up.
You sat next to him for the debrief. You always sat next to him, no matter how you protested. It didn’t matter how many times you asked not to play babysitter, you were the best at it.
It was a low bar. You just had to not egg him on like Butcher, or try to give him a free, unlicensed therapy session like Hughie. You just sat there, and glowered while he grinned, and everyone said you had Soldier Boy on a leash.
“What’s wrong with you,” you hiss during the meeting, and Ben shoots you a sideways glare.
He still doesn’t say anything. When you poke his arm, he recoils, flinching as if he’d been shot.
That’s what makes you freeze.
Ben doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t wince, and he doesn’t whine or bitch or moan. You’ve seen a rocket launcher slam into his chest, and he’d roared like an animal before throwing the thing back at the shooter. You’ve poked and slapped him almost every day for the past year. He’s only ever looked down at you with raised brows and a smirk, like you were a misbehaving bunny trying to eat his socks.
But this time, his eyes are black, and his brow is knit. There’s a tension in his jaw that makes your breath hitch, and his nostrils flare. The table whines under his grip. You’re rooted to your chair, unable to rip your gaze away. He grunts your name, low and rough, and you’re suddenly all too aware of it. The space between your bodies. Your knees aren’t pressed together under the table. His fingers aren’t grazing your arm every few moments, like they have every single day since Butcher tossed you into his den and told you to keep the old man from blowin’ something up.
There’s a heat radiating from his body that makes your head spin. It’s not the radiation or the bomb. His eyes aren’t empty and there’s no glow coming from his chest.
Ben runs warm. You’re more aware of it than he’s ever going to get to know. Ben’s always made of the kind of heat that pools between your thighs and makes your heart skip, even when you’re shoving his chest and flipping him off.
But this.
This feels like a fever.
Soldier Boy isn’t supposed to be able to get a fucking fever.
You open your mouth to ask what’s wrong again. Ben looks away, and leans back in his chair. His body is angled away from yours. Your feet bump, and he jerks away with a low, almost feral sound. You swallow, a bile rising from the back of your throat. He’s never passed up a chance to touch you.
Through the entire debrief, there wasn’t one word. He grunted in response to questions. Not an insult or crude joke, not a brag or boast about how much they’d needed him, not even an attempt to get into your pants. He’d sat, stiff and silent, then left the moment Butcher waved for everyone to fuck off.
You watch him go, your hands clasped under the table, worrying at the cuffs of your sleeves. You’re not worried about him. You don’t get worried about him. He’s an old ass with a pretty face, who spends more time trying to make you spread your legs than listening to plans for missions. But there’s an uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach, and it feels like a ship, rocking back and forth in a storm.
“Butcher?” You call, still watching the door Ben vanished through.
Butcher turns back to the table with a groan, glaring at you in your chair. “Fuckin’- I was about to go get Waffle House, love, so if you’ll excuse me-“
“What happened?”
“What-“ Butcher cuts himself off, running a hand down his face. “You mean on that mission Ijust fuckin’ debriefed-“
“No, I mean with Soldier Boy-“
“Ah, your sweet lil Ben-“
“No- I mean- He’s not-“ You shake your head. “Butcher, I’m fucking serious, he’s being- He was quiet.”
Butcher shrugs. “So? Far as I can see, he’s learnin’ how to be a good boy.”
“But he’s not,” you say flatly. “He’s not a good boy, and- You fucking know that.”
“Maybe. But I don’t go ‘round lookin’ for holes in good things, Love-“
“Oh, fuck off, that’s all you do-“
“Well, I’m a changed man.” Butcher gives you a lazy grin. “You got anything else for me? Gonna whine about grandpa actin’ too polite?”
You narrow your eye, holding Butcher’s stare. His tone is indifferent. His posture is bored. “You know I’m right about this,” you say, cold and quiet. “Don’t try and- And fucking dance around this. Ben’s acting weird, and-“
“Ben,” Butcher coos, and you snap your mouth shut. “Ain’t that sweet-“
“Butcher, I swear to fucking God-“
“What? You’re gonna tattle on me to your Ben-“
You shoot to your feet. “I am worried about the safety of our team, you dipshit-“
“Then go talk to your sweet Benny Boo, and maybe he’ll let you tickle his balls for an answer-“
The door slams open, and you and Butcher both freeze.
You’ve never found Ben as scary as you maybe should. He’s all muscle and talk and bite, but the teeth don’t seem sharp when they’ve only ever been bared for you. He tells you he’s a breathing fucking weapon, so you should watch your mouth. You ask him why you should bother, when he’s watching it for you. He laughs in that way that only you ever get to hear, and tosses his arm around you on the couch. Not a danger. A mountain of a man, that you know better than to try and topple with nothing more than moral hands.
A mountain that you’re used to bowing down to your height. That usually looks at everyone else like he’s measuring the minimum amount of effort he can use to crush their skull, right before offering you a hand to climb. When you take it, his lips twitch. When you tell him you don’t need help, he stares at you like he’s still learning how to look.
You know what the team says about you. What they think about the peace you’ve found with Ben, and the way it lingers around him whenever you’re near. But that’s really all it is. An understanding. Something close to friendship that you’re not brave enough to name. You think about him in the dark. He tries to fuck you, and you turn him down because you know.
It would be easier to fall for him that it should be. Whatever things are broken inside of you, he’s made of a kind of gold that pours into the cracks and makes them shine. But it’s fool’s gold. It would crack under pressure, leaving you more hollow than before. He’s not the kind of man that would want to build something. You only want to build something. And so he gets nothing, and you remain empty in a way that still lets your heart beat.
And you never fear Ben.
Not until he’s looming in the doorway, glaring between you and Butcher with a white-knuckle grip on the door and a glint in his eyes.
Butcher takes a small step back. You can’t move. Ben makes a low, rumbling sound from his chest, and the air suddenly feels hot and wet. No one dares to move.
“Ben,” you breathe, and his gaze snaps to yours. “Wha- Are you okay-“
He vanishes. You feel the floor rumble, as he stomps away, leaving you and Butcher frozen in the room. You turn slowly, glaring at Butcher. He throws you a winning grin, and slips out the door before you can ask if that seemed normal. Your fingers curl on the table.
Something’s going on, and you’re going to figure out what the fuck it is.
In the days after the meeting, Ben seems to almost get better. He speaks again. He walks around and jokes and smokes on the couch like everything is normal. Butcher acts like nothing happened, but you catch MM and Hughie giving him cautious looks. Annie and Kimiko are hanging around you more, and Ben seems angrier about it than usual.
“I think we need a new dryer,” you mutter one morning, sighing when Hughie gives you a curious look. “It’s eating my underwear.”
“Eating your- What?”
“My underwear. Like- How washers eat socks.” You frown at your cereal, poking it with your spoon. “It’s all going missing, I think it’s the dryer-“
“The fuck is wrong with the dryer,” Ben grunts, dropping next to you at the table.
“She thinks it’s eating her underwear,” Hughie mumbles, watching you nervously. “Are you sure you’re not just like- Dropping it in the hall or something?”
“Yes, I- I’ve even gone back and checked, it’s all just- It’s getting eaten, I swear-“
“Well- Um-“ Hughie glances at Ben. “Has your underwear been eaten?”
“Fuck no,” Ben grunts, and you sigh.
“He doesn’t believe in the dryer.”
Hughie blinks. “What- What do you mean, doesn’t believe in it?”
“Too many fucking buttons,” Ben grumbles. “Never trust a fucking robot to do what you can do with your goddamn hands. I wash my shit in the sink.”
“Mhm,” you smile at your coffee. “And then I wash it with the machine.”
Ben glares at you. You smile in return, and his mouth twitches. You expect a smart little comment about whatever gets you touching his boxers. Instead his eyes dart to your cereal, then your mouth.
“What-“
“You’re not eating.”
You blink. “I- I was talking to Hughie-“
“Why.”
“Because- My underwear- And-“ You swallow. The room is getting hot again. Ben’s glare is almost like a laser, driving into your body. “Ben, I’m going to eat-“
He grunts, and pushes the food closer to your body. He doesn’t look satisfied until you’ve cleared the bowl. You glance at Hughie, who seems just as lost as you do.
“Um- The dryer-“
“I’ll look at it,” Ben stands up, his own coffee and bacon completely ignored. You and Hughie exchange another look.
“Ben,” you say gently. “You- You can’t even turn it on-“
“It’s just fucking buttons, I’ll figure it out-“
“But- Ben-“
He’s already walking away. You chase after him, and barely manage to stop him from ripping up the whole laundry room. You’re not sure if this is part of it. You’re not really sure of anything right now, except odd looks behind your back, and your increasingly declining supply of underwear.
You keep an eye on him, closer than you have to. You don’t want him exploding, or going feral, or getting sick. If he gets sick, you’re the one who’s going to have to deal with it.
If he gets sick, you’re going to have to watch him get pale and small, and the thought makes your gut turn into a tight, strangling fist that reaches your throat. You spend the night curled up, staring at the ceiling. You walk to Ben’s room and linger outside the door, then shake yourself and go back to your room. You’re not some foolish, doting nurse. You’re his friend, and he’s a grown man who can take care of himself.
“Are you feeling okay?” You ask him in the morning, because you can’t help it.
Ben laughs, rich and deep. “Feel like a million fucking dollars, doll.”
“Hm,” peer at him on the couch. He’s relaxed. The color on his face is back to normal, and his thigh is pressed against yours easily. Ben catches your gaze, and smirks.
“You got something you wanna say to me?”
“No,” you say quickly, and Ben laughs.
“You gonna take my fucking temperature? Ask about my sleep and my fucking smoking habits?”
Your nose twitches. “No, I’m just- You had a fever yesterday-“
Ben cuts you off with a grunt. “I don’t get fucking fevers.”
“You were sweating, Benjamin-“
“Room was hot,” he grumbles. “Don’t lose your damn head about it.”
You scowl, moving up to your knees. “I’m not- You were acting weird,” you hiss. “You weren’t talking, and you- You didn’t touch me once-“
You cut yourself off, face flooding with heat, and Ben’s smile becomes wolfish.
“Oh,” he drawls, turning in his seat. “You missed me touchin’ you?”
“I- That’s not what I said-“
“Isn’t it?” He leans forward, fingers brushing near the top of your thigh. “You want my touch, sweetheart, all you have to do is say please.”
You narrow your eyes, tipping your chin up like it can defend you. “Fuck you.”
“Don’t you want to,” he teases, and your jaw drops.
“I- You’re fucking- I hate you.”
He laughs. His fingers trace the hem of your shorts. “No, you don’t.”
“Yes, I do.”
“You’re a shit fuckin’ liar-“
“You’re a shit fucking liar.” You spit, hoping he buys the false venom in your voice. “You were sick, Benjamin.”
Ben shrugs. “And you’re givin’ me the sex look.”
Goddamn him. Every, massive, cocky inch of him, and how you can’t seem to figure out how to stop him from affecting you. “I- I am not- There’s no- No-“ You look around the room, leaning forward to hiss low enough no one will hear. “There’s no fucking sex look.”
Ben hums, looking you up and down with that dragging gaze. The one that makes your body hum in excitement, that feels like more pressure than any other man’s hands.
“Stop doing that,” you snap, and he laughs.
“You’re real mouthy this morning, aren’t you.”
You scowl, sinking back into the cushions. “I’m hungry.”
Ben goes rigid. His hand fists on his knee, and his eyes lock on yours with that gleam again. You blink, leaning slightly back. Ben’s mouth presses in a thin line, and a low grumble rolls from his chest.
“Wha- What-“
He stands up, and marches away. You don’t move, too confused to remember how. Things hadn’t been back to normal, but they’d been a stilted version of it. Then he’s gone again, leaving you with too many fucking questions and an empty couch.
You’re seconds away from following him, when he stomps back into the room with a scowl.
“Ben, what’s- Shit-“
He tosses an apple straight into your lap. You fumble with it for a second, trying to figure out if a secret code or something, then look up at him with an openly confused expression.
“I- Um-“
“Eat that,” he grunts.
You blink. “What?”
“You said you’re fucking hungry, didn’t you?” He snaps, jerking his head to the apple. “Eat.”
You stare at each other for a long moment. The apple feels heavier than diamond in your hand, but Ben’s gaze is a burning, impossible pressure. It presses down against your core and makes your thighs ache. His eyes have gone almost wholly black. He’s back to that predatory stillness. You look at the apple, then him, and slowly raise it to your mouth.
Ben watches you take a large bite, and hums in satisfaction. You chew, and his eyes gleam. A little juice dribbles down your chin, and your tongue swipes out to catch it on instinct.
He moves back. You sit up, the apple tight in your fist, and Ben stumbles backwards like you’d punched him.
“Ben, what the fuck-“
He marches away again. You’re alone again, this time with an apple instead of Butcher.
At least the apple is less judgmental, while still offering the exact same amount of answers. You stare at it for twenty minutes, before you move. Ben doesn’t come out of his room for hours, and when he does, he won’t even look at you.
And that heat. The air-waving, mouth-watering heat is back, rolling off of him like an approaching storm. No one else seems to notice it. You’d think you were going insane, if you didn’t still have that apple, tight in your fist.
“You didn’t finish it,” Ben grunts from behind you, and you yelp in surprise.
“Jesus fucking- Ben-“
You whirl around, and cut yourself off. He’s right behind you. His legs are pressed to yours, his arms braced at his side, the weight of him almost locking you against the counter. Your hold on the apple goes slack, and it thuds to the floor. Ben’s glare deepens. His brow is beaded with sweat again.
“Hi,” you breathe, and he grunts.
“You were supposed to eat the fucking apple.”
“I- I had eggs,” you say, and Ben’s jaw locks.
He takes a long breath through his nose, leaning further down. This is the kind of thing that should make you want to run. It doesn’t.
“Who the fuck made you eggs,” Ben growls, and you blink.
“Me? I- I mean- I made me eggs- And- Um-“ You scan over his red face, his black eyes, and God, all that heat is so intoxicating you might be getting dizzy. “Be- Ben?”
He grunts your name. His arms brace on either side of your body. You might be about to melt.
“Can I please check your temperature?” You whisper. “I’m getting really worried. About-“ You take a deep breath, closing your eyes and forcing the words out. “About you.”
Ben doesn’t answer. You don’t dare to look. There’s something hard and thick, poking into your upper thigh. You grab Ben’s forearm for balance, and a low, dangerous sound rumbles from his chest.
Then, suddenly, the weight of him is gone. And when you open you’re eyes, it’s almost like he was never there at all.
Hughie coughs from the dining table, and you blink at him. You hadn’t even realized he was there.
“What- What the hell was that?”
You shake your head, staring blankly ahead at the wall. “I- I don’t-“ You cut yourself off, then look back to Hughie. “You were on the mission.”
Hughie swallows. “I- Um-“
“Hughie-“
“What mission?” He says, moving to his feet. “I mean- We go on so many, it’s easy to lose track-“
You block his path out of the kitchen, and he swallows.
“Please don’t-“
“Sit,” you point back to his chair, and he obeys.
“I- I really- I think Annie’s calling me-“
“Talk,” you hiss, and Hughie swallows. “Now.”
Ben got hit with a chemical. Hughie doesn’t know what—none of them do—but you’ve got a theory.
It’s a fragile thing. The way he’s acting, how you could possibly deal with it. You walk into the kitchen in the morning and find that he’s made you eggs. The plate gets shoved towards you with a grunt. Ben doesn’t stop staring until you’ve eaten every last bite, and then he stomps away without another word. You do your laundry and catch him staring at your clothing with twitching hands. You shower that night and open the door to find him standing in the hall, his whole body tense and his mouth hanging open.
“Ben,” you say gently, and he takes another one of those stumbling steps back.
You sigh, as he vanishes down the hallway. He hasn’t had a normal conversation with you in three days. The last time you bothered to try, he’d pinned you down on the couch and stared until you whispered his name, and he ran again.
He spends most days locked in his room. He comes out to make sure you’ve eaten or follow you to the grocery store, pressing behind you in the milk aisle and glaring at anyone who comes too close.
“Do you want anything?” You ask him softly before you go to checkout, and he just stares at you. Some days he’s not even talking anymore. Last night Annie tried to walk past you both on the couch, and he snarled like a dog.
He leans down until his nose is pressed to your hairline. His lips drag over your brow, and you stare up at him, trying not to let your heart burst out of your chest. He inhales deeply, and a low rumble rolls through his chest. His hand finds your waist, massaging and kneading at the skin.
Your gaze drops down, and there it is again. The outline of his cock, tenting in his jeans. You bite the inside of your mouth. Your knees wobble, and your hand flies to Ben’s shoulder. He’s burning up, skin searing even through his shirt.
He yanks back again, eyes black and chest heaving. You sigh, and turn back to the grocery cart. You’re too used to it now. It makes you worry more.
You try to get a straight answer out of Butcher that night. It’s somehow more useless than last time.
“I know Hughie blabbed, ain’t no reason in tryin’ to talk to me-“
“You know what’s wrong with him,” you hiss, and Butcher shrugs.
“Maybe. Gonna make any fuckin’ difference to what you’re doin’?”
“Yes, that’s why I’m fucking asking-“
“Oh, like you ain’t figured it out yourself.”
You glare at him. He smirks back, challenge lining every inch of his expression.
“You gonna go put your money where your mouth is, doll?” Butcher mocks. “Or just keep whinin’ around about it?”
And you don’t have an answer. Because he’s right. You figured it out when Ben snarled at MM for offering you a cup of coffee, a boner pressing through his sweats that everyone pretended to ignore. It would take a true idiot, to not be able to figure it out.
“When did you know,” you mumble, leaning back against the counter. Butcher shrugs, watching you carefully.
“Moment it hit the fucker.”
“Where you there-“
“I was the only cunt in the room.” Butcher shudders. “He started moanin’ and gettin’ hard, it was the most disgustin’ thing I’d ever seen.”
You sigh, giving him an unimpressed look, and Butcher smirks.
“He was cryin’ for you, love. Almost had to put him back under to stop him just sprintin’ back to the house to take you. Like a fuckin’ dog.”
You blink. Your heart does a little flip that you refuse to acknowledge. “He hasn’t touched me-“
“Don’t know why,” Butcher mutters. “I thought I was gonna follow him inside and find him- Well, you know.” He winks, and you narrow your eyes.
“But he hasn’t. Which-“ You swallow, looking up to the ceiling and biting your tongue.
It’s fine. It’s fine if it’s not you he wants to do this with. Probably for the better. It helps you cling to that last shred of dignity. The sliver of an illusion, that you don’t think about him more than you think about yourself,.
“Do we think this- Can it hurt him?” Your voice is smaller than you want it to be. Butcher just shrugs.
“Ain’t gonna kill him. Probably hurts.” His lip curls. “Permanent fuckin’ blue balls. Hell don’t go deep enough.”
You sigh. “Well, what if we hire him like- a hooker-“
“Tried that,” Butcher dismisses. “Almost got punched through a damn wall.”
Your mouth opens, then closes. “What? That’s- Ben wouldn’t turn down a hooker-“
“He did,” Butcher gives you a pointed look. “And it ain’t a hooker he’s makin’ eggs for, genius.”
You blink at him. “No, that’s- That isn’t part of it-“
“You willin’ to bet his life on that?”
And you aren’t. You’re not willing to bet anything. Because it hasn’t just been boners and staring. Ben’s been feeding you, following you like all illusion of not being your personal guard doesn’t matter anymore, refusing to let you do anything that might get you hurt.
“But- If it’s just a sex chemical,” you say slowly, and he cuts you off with a raised hand.
“I ain’t holdin’ your hand through this,” he says. “You talk to him yourself, and-“ He looks you up and down, a smirk pulling at his lips. “Bring protection. We don’t need soldier tots runnin’ around the house now, do we.”
“Butcher-“
“Not just a sex chemical,” he shrugs. “And you know it.”
You do. You wish you didn’t but you do.
A sex chemical would be easier. You could climb into bed with Ben, get railed into oblivion, then collect your heart off the floor and move on. But this is more. This is possessive and targeted and that means something. Something you don’t want to know. Something you have to know.
Butcher leaves you in the kitchen to collect yourself. You close your eyes, and try to control your breath, but it’s useless against your pounding heart. He turned down hookers. He moaned your name.
If this means nothing, you’re going to fucking kill him.
If it means something, you’re ready to deal with it. You don’t think you really have any other choice.
“Ben?” You knock on the door once, forcing your voice to steady. “Ben, can you please- We need to talk.”
He doesn’t answer. You weren’t expecting him to. The knock was more of a polite courtesy, then a question. You steel yourself, holding the doorknob with shaking fingers, and push into his room.
You barely make it a step inside, before all the will is knocked out of your body. It’s as if you walked into a wet dream. One of the private, dirtiest ones that make you wake up with the sheets bunched between your legs, that make reality feel like a slap to the face.
The room reeks of sex. Salty and heady, sweat and something rich that just smells like Ben. The sheets have been ripped and tangled on the floor, the pillows tossed off the unimportant corners of the room with piles of boxer and shirt and panties.
Your panties.
Ben sits, silent and dark-eyed on the bed, completely naked. One hand is fisting on of your panties, the other is wrapped tight around his thick, red cock. It’s veiny and so big it makes you sore just to look at. It throbs in his grip, and your cunt pulses in return. White pre-cum leaking from under his thumb, and his balls sit heavy between his thighs.
Your tongue darts out over your lips, and you force your gaze to drag up. Ben’s staring at you with a vein in his brow and that same burning intensity. The heat lingers in the air, humid and electric. Sweat falls from his neck, over his broad, flushed chest. His thighs are locked, his lips parted and eyes narrowed.
You glance back to the panties in his hand and swallow. You suppose, at the very least, you were right.
“I lost those,” you breathe, and Ben grunts.
“I’ll give ‘em back later.”
You blink, then glance at the pile in the corner of the room. Ben doesn’t look away from you for a second, and a low chuckle rumbles from his chest. It sends a thrill up your spine, and you have to lean back against the door to stay upright.
“You here just to collect your panties, doll?”
You shake your head, looking back to him hopelessly. You’d had a whole speech, about how he needed you to fix this, how you knew it must hurt, how if he asks nicely, you’ll let him take what he wants. It’s misting into thin air, with every thin, fraying thread that had been holding your dignity. Ben doesn’t make it easy. His gaze rakes over your body, a strange, blurred line between worship and hunger etched over his handsome features.
You don’t know how you’re supposed to pretend like this. With all of him at your fingertips, only a few steps away. You’d prepared yourself to be a toy, but you’re a lamb to slaughter. An offering to a god who won’t take anything else, who holds your sanity like a delicate bird in his rough hands. He could destroy you, and you’re going to thank him. He could recreate you, and you’d never know a better blessing.
Ben leans back, something iron lining his words. “You should go.”
You shake your head, and his jaw ticks.
“Go.”
There’s a low, deep command in the word. You almost obey.
“Those are mine,” you breathe, nodding to the panties, and Ben sighs.
“Fuckin’ Christ- Go-“
“Why are they mine?”
The question is soft. You know he hears it, because he goes quiet again. You stare at each other for another long moment, and you take the smallest step forward. A low groan pulls from Ben’s throat. Your knees almost buckle.
“Don’t,” he gives you a look like it’s a command, but there’s something thinner under the word. Something soft.
“I- I know about the chemical,” you whisper, and Ben’s throat bobs. “You could’ve asked-“
“Ask what? For you to suck my cock? Like some limp-dick pussy who can’t handle his booze?”
Your lips twitch. “Your dick isn’t limp.”
Ben gapes at you. His cock jumps in his hand, and you take another step.
“You’re- Fucking unbelievable,” he grunts, and you laugh. “This shit ain’t funny, doll-“
“It’s a little funny,” you murmur, stopping right above him.
No part of you is touching. Every inch feels gravitational. He has to be the one to crash first.
“You turned down hookers for me,” you whisper, and Ben scowls.
“It doesn’t want hookers.”
You glance at his cock, then his tight face. “What does it want?”
He glares. You don’t back down. You never have before, and you’re not about to start now.
“Don’t be a fuckin’ tease-“
“Don’t be a dick,” you lean down. Ben’s legs part to make room for you. It’s an effort, not to just touch him. “What does it want, Ben.”
What do you want.
He hears the invisible question. His jaw works, and his eyes drop to your lips.
“I’ll fuckin’ break you,” he rasps, and you smile.
“No,” you say. “You like me too much.”
Ben’s gaze rips back up. You raise your brows, daring him to do it. To say it. To put you both out of your misery.
A low growl rips through his chest. “Go. Now.”
You don’t move, and watch as the last line of Ben’s control snaps.
He grabs you by the waist and drags you fully into his lap. You gasp as his lips smash against yours, the kiss rough and demanding. There’s so part of you that isn’t consumed by it, that doesn’t mold into his touch. Your legs spread so you can straddle his lap, and Ben grabs your ass with a grunt, forcing you up so his cock is pressed against your clothed cunt. You moan against his lips, and he presses his tongue into your mouth.
“Be- Ben-“ Your nails scrape at his shoulders, and he squeezes your ass with a grunt. “Fuck- Ben-“
“Already whining,” he mutters, dragging his free hand up to rest on the back of your neck. “Barely fuckin’ touched you are you’re already sayin’ my name like I fucked you.”
Your face burns, and Ben weaves his hand through your hair, gathering it in on fist and pushing it down to deepen the kiss. You almost don’t know what to do with yourself. His touch is hot and possessive, sending shivers through your whole body. His cock rubs against your underwear with every shift, and the pressure makes your legs spread wider. You start to grind down to chase the friction, and Ben moans, deep and low.
“That’s it,” he grunts, massaging your ass with shockingly gentle hands. “That’s a good girl. Show me what you’ve got, doll, prove that you’re gonna take this cock for me.”
You try to drag him closer, but he’s immovable. When you push, his hand moves from your ass to your lower back, pushing down so you can feel every inch of his dick, rubbing between your thighs. You make a strangled noise, and Ben chuckles. It’s an even rougher sound than before. His mouth has started to wander over your cheeks and jaw, pressing open, sloppy, kisses everywhere he can reach.
It’s almost like you’re being seduced into the same, sex-focused daze that’s taken a hold of him. The kisses light undying fires over your skin, spreading and spreading until you think you’ll die if he moves away. Ben’s started to lose focus himself, pawing at your ass like an animal and growling against your skin.
“Bennn,” you moan as his fingers graze on your inner thigh, turning your face to bury in his neck. “Mmmm- Ben- M- More-“
He growls again, and his hips slam up. It knocks the air from your lungs, and he’s not even inside you. Your arms wrap around his neck, trying to hold on as he starts to rut against your core, broken, desperate sounds falling from his lips.
You manage to lean back to look at him, and he’s thoroughly wrecked. He grabs your jaw, still rutting, and you try to smile. His nostrils flare and he kisses you again, the fervor only seeming to build as he chases his own orgasm. You hum against his lips, trying to make yourself pliant and soft, easy for him to use.
“Smell good,” he rasps against your skin, beard tickling against your neck. “Always smell so- So fuckin’ good-“
He cuts himself off with another groan, his cock twitching between your thighs. He shoves you further down, rocking his hips back and forth as he keeps trying to get there against your body.
“Gonna wreck you,” he mutters, mouthing at a pulse point. “Fuck you ‘till you can’t walk, fuck you stupid, fuck you mine.”
You moan happily, dragging your hands down his bare, thick back. The muscles ripple under your touch, and Ben moans like that touch is almost enough to set him off. You kiss over his cheekbone and beard, along his jaw, and slowly guide his mouth back to yours. He lets you lead this kiss, mindlessly focused on trying to fuck himself against your body. He’s panting so hard you’d be worried about anyone else.
He groans against your lips, clawing at your clothing with blunt nails. “Off- Get- Fuck- Get this shit off-“
He whines like a dog when you push on his chest, and you expect him not to let you up, but his grip loosens. You smile down at him, moving back to your feet, and he stares at you with a slack jaw.
“Get back here,” he growls, one hand still splayed on the back of your thigh. “Now.”
“I’m helping you,” you tease, slowly pulling down your shorts. “Say please.”
Ben’s eyes flash, and his jaw locks. You know he won’t beg. You don’t really want him to. This—the undivided, adoring attention, the way he’s staring at you like you’re the only thing he could ever possibly want in the world, when he’s spent a century of life indulging in sweet things and easier desires—is more than enough.
You sink to your knees, and he lets you. That hand on your thigh drags up to fist back in your hair, and he goes back to that predatory stillness as you rub his thighs with light hands.
“I ain’t beggin’,” he grunts, and you hum, letting your fingers brush against the base of his cock.
Ben’s hips jerk up, a moan ripping from his chest. You giggle, guiding his hand away, and he glares at you under hooded eyes.
“Something fuckin’ funny?”
“Mmm,” you shrug, wrapping your hand around his cock, and god, he’s even bigger than he looks. “I’m just… Learning.”
“Learning,” Ben echoes, the awe pushed through gritted teeth. “Jesus fuckin’- Christ-“
You lick a long, slow stripe up the length of Ben’s cock, and he tosses his head back like he’s praying.
“Holy- Fuckin’ hell-“ He tugs at your hair without actually trying to move it, biceps bulging as he tries not to overtake your mouth. “You’re- warm-“
You giggle again, pumping your fist as you kiss the tip. Ben makes a low, sinful sound, his free hand fisting at the sheets. You’ve never seen him in such control of himself. A living god that could skullfuck you until you sobbed, trying to let you lead your way. You think it’s something in the way he’s holding you like you’re made of lace instead of silicone. It makes an unbearable ache return to your core.
You take Ben in your mouth until he bumps against the back of your throat, and he groans your name so loud it must echo through the city. You work what you can’t fit in your mouth, sucking on his cock like it’s candy.
“Fuckin’- You can suck some fuckin’ cock, doll-“ He chokes out, hips bucking when you squeeze him near the base. “Best mouth I’ve ever felt- Son of a-“
His words turn to moans, and you look up at him under your lashes. He’s leaning back with a glazed eyes and veins pushing at his neck. His shoulders are tense, his abdomen flexing, and you can’t control your own hips as they start to chase relief against the air. Ben catches the movement, watching it as if he’s under a spell. His cock is heavy and pulsing in his mouth, and it just makes your cunt ache more, imagining the weight of him buried inside of you.
“Jesus, you’re a needy thing,” he mutters, his thumb dragging over the soft skin behind your ear. “You fuckin’ like this? Like choking on some proper dick?”
You whine, eyes rolling back as he presses back against your throat. You press your shoulder forward, forcing your tits further up for him to see. Ben jaw clenches, and you feel him try to not move. His pre-cum is getting thicker, and who knows how long he’d been going before you.
“Ben,” you pull off for a split second, dropping your hand to massage his balls as you kiss over the head of his dick. “Please.”
You drop back down, and he understands in a second. He uses you like a toy, pulling your head up before slamming it back down. You make your jaw slack, moaning around him with every single thrust. Your eyes roll back in your head, and the need builds and builds between your thighs.
You drag you’re hips forward shamelessly, grabbing Ben’s leg and angling your clit to rub against whatever it can reach. Ben groans at the sight, and the sound just floods between your legs.
“Shit, I can feel how fuckin’ wet you are,” he growls, and you whimper, watching him under glossy lashes. “Shit- Lookin’ at me like that, gonna make me-“
You moan eagerly, and Ben’s control snaps again.
It’s fun to see the edges of it. How the pit of his restraint is far deeper than you would’ve imagined a week ago. He tries to drag you off his cock as he cums, but you push yourself back down. It comes in thick, sticky ropes, shooting down your throat until you’re gagging and almost unable to breathe. You try to swallow, but there’s so much it falls out of your mouth like drool, dripping down your cheeks and onto your breasts.
“Jesus, thought you were gonna drown in it,” Ben pulls your dazed head off, grinning down at you. “Look at you, baby. Little fuckin’ trooper.”
You blink at him, still trying to lick the remains off your lips. You glance down to his cock, and it’s still hard. How the fuck is it still hard.
“Hasn’t been goin’ down since that shit hit me,” Ben mutters, dragging his thumb over your lower lip. “Needs it’s pussy.”
“It’s pussy?” You breathe out, and Ben sighs.
“Your pussy,” he mutters. “Needs you, smartass.”
“It needs me?”
You give him your best innocent look. He glares at you, and you just tilt your head, smiling like you’re made of honey. You sort of feel like you are. You’ve never been this gooey, just from sucking a guy off. You’ve never even liked sucking someone off.
But this is Ben. Rough everywhere, but made of tiny divets that go soft when pressed. The kind of man you can crawl into and never have a harsh hand find your body again.
He swallows, his thumb lingering on your lips. You kiss the pad of it, then the knuckle, before slowly wrapping your lips around him and sucking. Ben’s cock twitches, somehow getting harder. You don’t think you’re ever going to walk again.
Worth it.
“I need you,” he rasps, pulling his thumb away. “Feet. Now.”
He taps your nose, and you scramble up. You’ll fight him tooth and dirt when he’s fighting back. When he’s not, you can’t think of a single reason to deny him a thing.
Ben grabs the back of your thigh again, watching you with an expectant glint in his eyes. You swallow and pull your shorts down, trying not to fall over when he stares at your core like you’re showing him a treasure. His fingers dig into soft skin, and his free hand wraps around his cock, pumping slowly as you continue to strip in front of him.
You peel off your shirt, and Ben’s tongue darts over his lips. His grip on your thigh tightens, and he slowly coaxes you forward. You rest your hands on his shoulders, shoving down the bubbling, electric nerves in your chest.
“Ben,” you whisper, and he hums, dragging a massive, rough hand up your side. “E- Easy-“
“Oh, doll,” he coos, pressing a soft kiss to the side of your breast. “This is easy.”
Your legs wobble, your confidence quickly waning. The doubts start to pool like rainwater in a gutter, as Ben takes in your naked body. Maybe you weren’t the dream doll he had in his head. Maybe you pushed it too far with the teasing. Maybe he doesn’t really want you in the same, volcanic kind of way you want him.
He drags two fingers along your inner thigh, teasing the sensitive skin as he mouths at your breast. You close your eyes, trying to just breathe, and Ben chuckles.
“And you wanted me to say please,” he drawls. “Look at you, all fuckin’ sweet for me. You gonna beg for me again, baby? Or that mouth only good for sucking my cock?”
You whimper, a gush of heat flooding between your thighs.
“Yeah, you like me talking,” Ben mutters, kissing over your sensitive nipple. “Like knowing you’ve got the only fuckin’ pussy in the world that makes me act like an idiot. Pretty girl, pretty fuckin’ tits,” he sucks a dark spot on your breast, his thumb slowly dragging between the lips of your cunt. “Pretty fuckin’ pussy, wet like a whore in the summer for me.”
Ben thumbs at your slit, wrapping his lips around your nipple and sucking hard. His thumb drags up in the exact same moment, finding your clit and rubbing tight, unrelenting circles. You vision blurs and you stumble forwards, wrapping your arms tight around his head.
“Be- Fuck- Bennnn-“
He hums around your nipple, grazing his teeth over the perked bud. His mouth is warm and wet, his tongue flicking back and forth until you’re in a sex-addled frenzy. You press your face into his hair, gasping his name as he drags his thumb back and forth across your clit.
He wraps a massive arm around your body, fingers splaying over your back and cradling you close to his body.
“Feel that fuckin’ mess,” he drawls, kissing over your breasts. “No one else gets you this wet, do they?”
You shake your head, and Ben leans back with narrowed eyes. He slaps your pussy with a harsh little tap, and a broken cry escapes your lips.
“Do they,” he growls, and you shake your head.
“No- No-“ You try to lean down, desperate to just kiss him, to get as close as he’ll allow. “Just you, Ben, just you-“
He smirks, slaps your cunt again, and goes back to making out with your nipples. You moan, slumping over his body as the tension becomes almost painful. You don’t know what he’s getting out of this until you feel his hips rocking beneath you. His cock rubs against his stomach and your thigh, already smeared with pre-cum again. You gasp and Ben moans around your nipple, the sensation vibrating through your whole body.
“Oh- Oh my god-“ You squirm, the pressure getting unbearable. “I- I’m- Oh my god-“
You’re babbling, but you’re not sure what else there is to do. You cunt his clenching around nothing, the thick scent of Ben clouding your head as he works you like a toy. Ben nips at your nipple and pushes his thumb down hard. Your knees buckle, almost making you fall back to your knees on the carpet.
Ben’s arm around your back tightens, and he rolls you both over, tossing you back onto the mattress without even a grunt. You almost cry out at the sudden cold, the lack of Ben all around you. It only lasts a second before he grabs your ankle and drags you forward.
You’re lain on the bed, staring at Ben with an open expression. His jaw clenches and he rubs your thighs, slowly pushing your knees up to your chest. Your cunt is on full, open display to him, and your breath catches as he drags his thumb between the swollen lips of your pussy.
“Look at that,” he almost purrs. “Mine.”
You whimper when he flicks your clit again, but it quickly falls into a moan as he leans down and presses an open mouth kiss to your pussy. Your eyes roll back in your head, your hips arching to meet his chapped, full lips. Ben groans against your cunt, his grip on your legs tightening.
You’ve had men eat you out before. You’ve had them be good at it, and horrible.
Ben does it like it’s a job, and he’s never hated work a day in his life. You were already on such a thin wire that the first press of his tongue against your clit makes you snap, a cry falling from your lips and your hands flying wildly to catch a hold of something. Ben grabs them and pins them against your stomach, forcing you down into the mattress as his mouth keeps working against your cunt.
He’s open with it, moaning and sucking and pushing his tongue into your fluttering cunt as he rocks his face back and forth, dragging your orgasm out until you’re almost floating. The heat hasn’t stopped building. Every time you think you’re going to come down, Ben kisses your clit, and darts his tongue back and forth like he’s trying to get a high score of most orgasms in an hour.
Maybe two hours. You can hear the bed creaking in a steady rhythm, as Ben’s fucks down into the mattress, but then he drags another orgasm out of you, and the only thing in the world is Ben’s mouth against your cunt. The sounds he makes, the way he’s watching you under hooded, smug eyes, the way his massive back forces your legs further apart whenever you try to close them and exposes you to him further.
You writhe when your third orgasm hits, shoving at his head with weak hands.
Ben draws back, pinning your legs down to the bed and fixing you with a stern glare.
“Stay still,” he grunts, and you swallow.
“Too- Too much-“
“You want cock?” He snaps, and you nod frantically. “Only good girls get cock, baby. You bein’ a good girl when you whine?”
Your lip wobbles. Your face burns. Ben raises his brows, daring you to be a brat, and any other day you would. You’d stick your tongue out and mock him, you’d test his buttons, you’d see just what you could say, to get bent over his lap or tossed around the bed.
But there are tears streaming down your cheeks, and you’ve never been so totally aware of how empty you are. You really think the chemicals might be contagious. You really don’t fucking care.
“No,” you whisper, shame burning at your cheek and between your thighs. “I’m not.”
Ben hums, spits on your clit, and starts to rub it with a fast thumb. “You gonna be a good girl?”
You nod, and Ben smirks.
“Yeah. I know.”
He dives back down, and stars burst behind your eyes as another orgasm overtakes your body. You’re trembling and gasping for air, pulling at his hair and only earning another moan that makes your back arch. Ben laps at you through the orgasm, hips still slamming against the bed.
Then, one second, his beard his grazing over your inner thigh and his lips are pressed against the over sensitive, pulsing bundle of nerves. The next you’re face down with a thick arm around your stomach, dragging you back against Ben’s chest like a ragdoll.
“Need to get in that pussy,” he growls, dragging his cock between the lips of your cunt. “Give you this cock real good, show you who the fuck you belong to, right now.”
Ben bites and sucks on your neck, the head of his dick bumping against your clit, but he still doesn’t push inside. Your nails dig into your forearm, the wet sound of him sliding against you filling the room, and you almost don’t know what the fuck he’s waiting for.
“Please,” you breathe out, dropping your head against his shoulder and giving him your best, sweetest eyes. “Please, Ben- Fuck me.”
Another one of those feral sounds rips from Ben’s chest, and his hand drags down to press two thick fingers against your clit as he slowly pushes himself inside. The breath is knocked from your lungs at the first inch, a broken sound escaping your lips.
Ben’s free arm wraps around your neck, the bulging bicep forcing your head back further so he can kiss over your open, drooling mouth.
“That’s it,” he coos, rubbing your clit back and forth as he presses deep into your cunt. “That’s a good little slut, takin’ just what I give you, come on-“
You whimper, and Ben deepens the kiss, pressing his tongue down your throat as he pushes another inch. You clench down around him and he groans, kissing you brutally as he bullies the last few inches inside of you.
He’s so big it makes sparks dance on the edge of your vision. You’ve never been this full, every single nerve in your body all too aware of the delicious split of Ben’s cock. Between the head lock and his mouth against yours, the tears can’t stop streaming down your face. Ben growls your name, kissing a stray one near your lips, his tone a warning you can barely hear.
“Christ- You’re fuckin’ tight- Gotta- Relax-“
You can’t. You’re overstimulated and so needy you can’t think, can’t move, can’t do anything but feel the smeared arousal between your thighs, the drag of Ben’s cock against your g-spot, the muscle and heat of his body wrapped all around you.
You clench down again, and the very last bit of Ben’s resolve snaps.
He cums inside of you suddenly, moaning down your throat as he ruts up in short, rough thrusts. The cum spills into your until you’re warm and stuffed, then runs down your ass and over your thighs. It’s so wet you think he’d slip right out of you, if it wasn’t for the headlock. You’re so full you don’t even remember how to breathe, until Ben squeezes just under your breast and groans your name.
“Don’t go out on me, doll, c’mon-“ He groans and kisses you again, his hand dropping back down to spread against your tummy. “Fuck- You feel so fuckin’ good- Better than coke, baby, Christ-“
You make another broken sound, your voice hoarse and small from the arm around your throat.
Then Ben starts to fuck you, and you think you might ascend.
He rolls his hips in long, deep thrusts, dragging in and out of your cunt like a machine. The sound of your cum mixing—sliding between your bodies with every single shift—is obscene. You’re being used like the most tended to, adored fuckdoll in the world. Ben cradles you like he thinks you’ll break, and fucking you like he’s trying to take you apart.
You feel him everywhere, with every single slam of his cock against your g-spot. Your vision swims, the tears falling freely, and Ben kisses every single one away with another, brutal thrust.
“Fuckin’ crying for me, babydoll?” He nips at your lower lip, and you whine a sound like his name. “Pretty girl can’t fuckin’ take it after begging? So sensitive you need to fuckin’ whine?”
You turn your cheek, giving him your best, pleading doe eyes. You can’t tell if his gaze sharpens or focuses. His thrusts become deeper, and his thumb finds your swollen, pulsing clit again. You sob, and he kisses the sound away with a hum.
“Bein’ such a good fuckin’ slut,” he mutters, pinching your clit and rolling it between his fingers. “Takin’ this cock like a pro, baby, like you were fucking made for me.
You babble his name again, and Ben smirks. This kiss is slower. Almost loving, and in a stark contrast with how he’s drilling into your gaping cunt.
The orgasm washes over you like a wave, and Ben moans your name as you squeeze down around him. Your vision goes white and you thrash, your body being wracked with so much pleasure you can only scream. Ben’s cock slams home against your g-spot, and rush of something wet and hot flood out of your pussy, and you think you might pass out.
At the least, you’re floating out of your body. Ben cums with rough, spat out praise, then slowly lowers you back down to the mattress. Weight shifts around. He rubs your back as you gasp for air, then slowly rolls you over and pushes your legs back open.
“Look at you,” he murmurs, the words far away, but his voice softer than you’ve ever heard it. “Didn’t know you could get this fuckin’ dumb and quiet. Should’ve been fucking you every day.”
He laughs to himself, and your hand flies up, unsure what it’s looking for.
Ben catches it, twines your fingers together, kisses your knuckles, and presses it back into the mattress.
“Need more, doll,” he rasps, and you whimper. “I’ll go easy. Not tryin’ to break my-“
He cuts himself off. You don’t have the words to push him. You don’t have the energy to do anything. Ben kisses your stomach, then lower, then lower. You gasp softly, when you feel his tongue lapping at your pussy. It’s gentler than before. Slower, almost careful. He works you open, mixing your releases together and tasting it almost for the sake of tasting it.
Your eyes cross, as the soft, tickling sensations. They’re strangely relaxing, even if they make your pussy flutter hopelessly.
“Easy,” Ben murmurs, kissing over your clit. “Nice and fuckin’ easy.”
It is. You go limp again, letting yourself get lost in the feeling of his tongue. He’s not trying to make you cum, or get you ready. God knows you could probably take a fist in there right now, with how he’s left you soaked and open. You can hear his fist working against his cock again, and find the energy to look up again.
He’s almost art, above you. Hair mussed and tangles, dominating your vision, whole face wet and eyes blown out. You squeeze his hand in yours and smile. He blinks, and his jaw sets as he understands.
This time, he doesn’t ask if you’re sure. He must understand by now, that you might be more depraved than even he can dream up. You’d sit on his cock for the rest of your life, if he let you. And there are worse ways to be worshipped, than with everything a man—a broken, titan of a man who’s made of more than he can understand—has to give.
You let yourself lose track of it all. Ben moves you into positions you didn’t know you could make, hauling you back into his lap, flipping you over and dragging your ass in the air, sitting you on top of him and guiding your hips back and forth until you’re mewling his name and shaking around his cock. The whole room might have to be burned, when this is over. There isn’t an inch of your body he hasn’t cum on, kissed, spanked, or grabbed.
He ends up on top of you again, holding your knees back against your chest with a single arm, fucking you slow enough to drag long, loud moans from your lips every time.
“That’s my girl,” he mutters, watching his thick, swollen cock slide in and out of your cunt, smearing and spreading hours of cum between your thighs. “My pretty fuckin’ doll.”
You moan, reaching up with shaking hands to cup the back of his neck. His gaze drags back to yours, and you smile. You don’t know where the delicate, flowering thing inside of you is coming from. You think it’s always been there, and Ben’s stripped you so bare there’s nowhere to hide it, no way to make it wither. With his hands so gentle on your hips and thighs, his gaze so clouded with adoration you think that—to anyone else—he wouldn’t look like the same man, there’s nothing left to do but let this bloom.
“I love you,” you breathe out, the first words you’ve said in hours. “I love you, Ben.”
His eyes go impossibly darker. His fingers dig into you, and he crashes forward with a groan.
Ben cums one last time, and you pass out at his kisses all over your face, murmuring words you feel more than hear.
He doesn’t say it back. You didn’t think he would. Ben coddles you like a child after, wrapping you in a shirt that somehow survived the damage and carrying out back to your room. You get a warm bath and glass of water. Your stomach rumbles, and suddenly there’s food in your hand. Ben rises you both off in the shower, his breathing heavy and his face pressed into the crook of your neck.
You can feel it with every single touch. That he’s trying to find a way to tell you. That it’s carving through his chest that he doesn’t know how.
And you’ll wait. Telling him he doesn’t have to will do nothing but make him more frustrated, and you’re happy to have whatever he can offer after… this.
He figures it out faster than you thought, though. He lays in bed with you, glaring at the ceiling and rubbing your side. You watch him, your head propped on his chest, and smile. You lean up and press a kiss to his jaw, and he grunts in surprise, his gaze dropping to yours.
You smile again. His throat bobs. He opens his mouth. Closes it. Looks back to the ceiling and lets out a slow, deep breath.
“Marry me.”
You blink at him. If you had an ounce of strength left in your body, you’d sit up. “What?”
“You heard me,” he grunts, glancing back down at you. “You mean what you said?”
“Of- Of course I meant it-“
“You sure?”
“Fuck you,” you shove his chest, and his mouth twitches. “I wouldn’t have said it if I wasn’t sure, asshole. But-“ You point a stern finger. “I’m not marrying you.”
That makes him really, deeply frown. “Why not.”
“Because I’m not crazy.”
“That ain’t crazy, doll, you love something, you fucking marry it-“
“Marry it?” You snort. “What, are you gonna marry the fucking TV?”
“No, you brat, I’m marrying you.”
Your mouth falls open. Ben glowers at you, his fingers digging on your hips again, like he’s worried you’re going to run. “Me?” You whisper, and Ben grunts.
“Don’t see me fuckin’ proposing to anyone else, do you.”
You laugh weakly. “But this is- Ben, this is a bad proposal-“
“It is not bad-“
“It’s horrible-“
“You’re going to say yes,” he snaps, and you sigh, tracing over the line of his pecs.
There’s something raw under that demand. Something you don’t want to mock or poke at. That you want to nurture, to get him to show without barbing it in a defensive wire.
But you’re also not marrying him after one sex marathon.
“I want dinner,” you say, and he frowns.
“I’ll get you a fucking ring-“
“No.” You lean down until your noses bump. “Dinner.”
Ben glares at you. You glare back, rubbing his chest, and he slowly relaxes under your touch.
“Dinner,” he mutters, and you beam, pressing a quick kiss to his lips.
He grabs the back of your neck, holding you above him. “You’d say yes, though,” he rasps, and god help you, you would.
You just kiss him instead. Long and slow and deep, telling him in a language you know he prefers to speak. And you can feel it, under every single touch. How much he really, truly means it.
Five dinners, you tell yourself, but if Ben keeps holding you like this, you know. You’ll only last until he asks you again, and then—just like before—you’ll all too happily give in.
✦End note: theory answered: yes he can ✦
✦If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3✦
Summary: Watching your husband defend you at a Vought party turns you on so much that you need him to fuck you now.
Word count: 6k
Warnings: +18 MDNI. SMUT (unprotected p in v, public sex—they’re in a bathroom, m!receiving oral), established public relationship, good husband!ben, FLUFF but angsty at the end ngl, homelander and the deep existing is a warning as a whole.
a/n: this is heavily inspired by “Thank Goodness” from Wicked. great musical. watch it pls.
Vought would forever be your heaven turned hell.
You still remembered the excited tears you spilled when you were accepted into The Seven, the happy squeals at the news that you would do most of Vought’s propaganda, and the butterflies in your stomach when Soldier Boy asked you out.
But those happy memories were tainted by your cruel coworkers at The Seven, the humiliating, pervy stuff the marketing team had you do almost every week, and the pit in your stomach when Vought found out about your relationship with Ben and turned you into America’s sweethearts.
Homelander was people’s favorite, their savior, their perfect hero… but Ben and you were the greatest symbol of love, the goal everyone desired to reach.
The perfect, happy couple.
Your discreet dates turned to extremely photographed walks in the park; Ben’s soft kisses started being scripted for the fans to go crazy; and Vought even reached the point of forcing your wedding to be at Madison Square Garden with a whole audience full of celebrities and millionaires.
Yet despite everything, Ben and you kept your genuine, profound love behind doors. They could take away what was supposed to be the most special day of your life, but they would never watch Ben and you dancing in your kitchen at one in the morning, or listen to the sweet promises he whispered in your ear every night as he hold you gently against his chest, or catch a glimpse of how devoted your husband really was to you…
Vought’s anniversary was one of the biggest events of the year, so of course everyone was expecting America’s couple to arrive hand in hand, kissing on the red carpet and waving at fans.
Your gaze was lost in the tinted window, the only surface that separated the cruel world from your precious life.
Ben noticed your frown and kissed your temple. “You look beautiful, doll.”
The car turned right, nearing Vought’s tower and making you clutch the car seat.
Ben placed an arm around you. “We will only be there for around two or three hours. Then we will… eat some of your favorite food.”
You looked up at him. “McDonalds?”
He smiled softly and nodded. “We’ll get a twenty McNuggets combo and finish that awful reality show you love at home.”
“Love Island?” Your hand searched for his and squeezed it. “How did you know there is a new season?”
Ben rolled his eyes. “Because you’ve talked about it every day for the past two weeks?”
You giggled and kissed his nose. “Did I?”
He caressed your cheek before diving down to your lips. You pulled back. “Careful with the lipstick!”
Ben sighed but forced a smile. Right, you had to look perfect for the cameras. For the fans. For the entire world.
The limousine stopped at Vought’s tower, right at the start of the red carpet.
Ben grunted at the sight of the multitude. “They could be normal and watch from their televisions or from that small square you all carry.”
He was a phone hater.
As he was about to open the door, you grasped his wrist hard. “W-wait!”
Ben turned to you, fully concerned. “What’s wrong?”
The worried frown decorating his handsome face made your stomach drop. Sometimes you couldn’t believe you were dating such a beautiful man.
“I love you.” You gulped and caressed his arm. “Just… needed to say it.”
He felt a pang in his chest, those three words always causing his heart to race. Ben kissed your forehead before murmuring, “I love you too, princess.”
You took a deep breath, steeling yourself and clutching your tiny purse. Ben huffed as he finally pushed the door open. The second he stepped out into the cold night air, thousands of flashes bombarded him. It seemed as if everyone had been expecting this moment.
Ben got out first, waved casually at the cameras, and turned to you, offering a hand. You made a show of just showing your manicured hand first. Your recognizable diamond ring made fans scream.
Your husband helped you out of the limousine, gently holding your waist as he closed the door behind you. The flashes seemed to duplicate in your presence.
“Y/N! Y/N!”
”Soldier Boy, over here!”
“We love you!”
You chuckled charmingly as you waved and sent kisses. “We love you too!”
Vought was a vicious company and you felt used most of the time, but you couldn’t deny you loved these moments, these showers of attention and love. There were people crying at the sight of you, dressed with your superhero suit, wearing shirts with your face… Most of them had probably camped for hours outside of the tower just to get a glimpse of you.
How could you ever let go of this level of stardom?
Ben’s big hand caressing your waist brought you back to reality. While you were smiling and posing for the cameras, his green eyes were focused on you. Still getting giddy by his devoted stare, your cheeks turned red.
“What is it?” you asked with a shy smile.
He shook his head and pulled you closer to his side. “Nothing.”
Ben sighed and finally posed for the cameras too. He knew that even though he was one of the first superheroes, you were the people’s favorite. Their Princess Diana. He could pretend people were excited for him, but deep down he knew the popular one was you.
And, honestly, he didn’t mind it, you deserved all the adoration and love. But he still felt a bit territorial and protective when people got too close.
He came from a different time. Sharing you with the world was something he would never get used to or be okay with. You were his wife, his woman… but Vought had gotten their hands on you before him, so now you were a superhero, a model, a socialite, an actress, an icon, and anything they wanted you to become.
Ben grew up in a different society, one that made him an angry, explosive mess. A society that taught him that he was destined for greatness and fame. But when he met you, he turned into a completely different person. The simple idea of hurting you, of treating you like an object, or of disrespecting you caused a shiver to run down his spine. He didn’t understand how people could look at you and exploit you.
You… beautiful, sweet, caring you.
He never hid that he would kill for you. He would destroy everything and everyone in Vought if you asked for it. But this was the life you had wished for…
As a security guard led you through the red carpet to the tower’s lobby, a paparazzi managed to jump over everyone and approached you with his blinding flashes.
“Y/N, Soldier Boy! When will you be back to Keeping Up with The Seven—”
“Back the fuck off!” Ben yelled, quickly getting in front of you to shove the man away.
More Vought security guards swarmed over and dragged the paparazzi away.
You had a hand on your chest and one on Ben’s arm, slightly paralyzed by how they were treating the man. Well, he could’ve been dangerous, but it still left a bittersweet feeling.
“Are you okay?” Ben whispered and cradled your face.
“Y-yeah, I’m fine,” you mumbled, forcing a smile. “Thank you.”
Ben kissed your temple and you could already see the tweets: “Oh, he saved her! He is such a great husband! I need a man like Soldier Boy!”
“Let’s go inside. It’s getting cold,” he said, reaching for your hand to lead you to the lobby’s elevator. “Last thing I need is to play nurse again.”
“Wait!” You stopped and took a quick, impulsive decision.
Bunching up your gown, you ran towards the fans and signed pictures, took selfies, and even kissed a puppy. You could feel your husband’s worried eyes on your back but you didn’t care. These people literally made you the most followed person on every social media platform.
”Y/N, how is Soldier Boy in bed?!” a brave fan asked.
Normally, you would’ve ignored her, but she was recording you directly to the face and you never lost a chance for a viral video.
You chuckled and pretended to be shy. “Y’all are crazy! But between us… there is one big reason I didn’t hesitate saying yes to that ring, girl.”
Everyone screamed excitedly at your answer. Oh, thank goodness Ben hated social media and would never see that video.
He looked serious as you walked back to him with an apologetic smile. “You almost gave me a heart attack,” he muttered before placing an arm around you. Then he whispered in your ear, “Don’t fucking do that again, okay?”
You forced a smile and pinched his cheek. “You’re peachy today, aren’t you?”
Ben smirked at your annoyed tone. “And you’re bratty today.” His hand wandered to your lower back, not quite reaching your butt. “What happened to my good girl?”
“Don’t start,” you mumbled.
He would always tease you in the worst moments. At least this time you weren’t in the middle of a combat… and it wouldn’t end in you giving him a blowjob on an abandoned rooftop… again.
The elevator ride was swift but nerve-wracking. Now that the fans’ part was over, came the worst part of the night: dealing with your peers.
The event’s salon was all marble and glass with Vought’s logo everywhere. It was packed with wealthy businessmen, celebrities, superheroes, and more big names.
Ben glared at the crowd with disdain, not trying to hide his dislike.
Not even half a step in, people noticed you two. Everyone tried to start a conversation with you as Ben dragged you across the crowd to the bar. You faked smiles and shook hands, trying not to be as rude as your husband.
As soon as you reached an empty spot, Ben placed an arm around you to create a wall between people and you. “Enough talk. The lady’s thirsty.”
You leaned on the bar and looked up at him. “You could’ve greeted the president.”
Ben grimaced. “Why would I do that?” He ordered a glass of whiskey for himself and a margarita for you.
You were in the middle of a joke when a different type of piercing eyes met yours. Not adoring in the slightest. A stare full of cold, hard jealousy and hatred.
Ben noticed the sudden tension in your body and followed your gaze. He went stiff too at Homelander’s attention.
He grumbled and turned back to you. “What does that bastard want now?”
You gulped. “I don’t know, but he’s coming this way.”
Ben grunted, taking a long sip of his drink. He had never tolerated Homelander, but his disdain grew when the supe made obvious his disapproval of your relationship, laced with his dislike for you.
“Father,” Homelander greeted him, placing a hand on his shoulder. He glared at you. “You look lovely tonight, Y/N.”
”She does,” Ben mumbled, his arms snaking around your waist to engulf your body. “Most beautiful woman in every room.”
Homelander sneered but quickly masked it with a fake smile. “What happened to your suits? Laundry day?”
Apart from your status and beauty, Soldier Boy and you stuck out like a thumb for your lack of superhero uniforms. Vought knew that pictures of everyone’s favorite supes with dashing outfits would be trending, so they sent a green tuxedo for Ben and an emerald gown for you.
You placed your hands on your husband’s shoulders and joked, “I think the dress code memo got lost in the mail.”
Ben smirked. “Seems like it, honey.”
Homelander’s eyes wandered down your body for a little too long before they snapped to Ben. “Then my multiple meeting invitations must have gotten lost too, huh?”
Ben kissed your cheek, making a show of not looking at his son. “Mhm, most likely.” He bit your jaw playfully. “I’m never really in the mood for leaving our bed.”
You blushed and giggled at his sexual innuendo. “Honey!”
Homelander’s deep, long sigh was a call for their attention. “So… I heard you’re giving this year’s speech.”
Ben noticed your stillness and swiftly caressed your back. You muttered, “Yeah, I will.”
The blond supe scoffed and muttered, “That’s so weird since I’m the one that always does it.”
Your husband was starting to lose his peanut-size patience. “Sometimes we don’t get chosen and we have to suck it up and move on, don’t we?”
Homelander stared at him quietly for a long second, then patted his father’s back and faked a big, predatory smile. “Have fun, you two.”
And he stormed away like an irritated child, his cape flowing behind him. You felt your soul coming back to your body.
“You know he won’t hurt you, right?” Ben whispered. “Boy’s too needy for my approval that he won’t ever lay a hand on you.”
You gulped, your eyes still on Homelander’s back. “Maybe not him, but he has an army of idiots following his every order.”
Ben sighed and pecked your lips. “Don’t think about that right now. Last thing you need is more stress tonight.”
A second margarita was delivered by the bartender, who gave Ben a flirty smile. He didn’t look at her as he grabbed the glass. “You’re drinking too fast.”
You rolled your eyes. “Can you blame me?”
Ben sipped the margarita and grimaced. “This tastes like a gasoline store’s lemonade, honey. How can you drink this shit?”
Playing with his tie, you jokingly replied, “Are you saying I have bad taste?”
He huffed and cockily arched an eyebrow. “I mean, clearly you don’t since I’m your husband.”
You snickered and kissed his cheek. “I need to go to the bathroom.”
Ben grabbed your wrist as you reached for your purse. He looked at you with wide eyes. “Don’t leave me alone,” he mumbled. “Honey…”
You frowned at your antisocial husband. “I’ll be right back. Go talk—”
”Nooo,” he whined, looking around to make sure no one could hear him. Various people were still staring at them in awe. “They will come to me like vultures. I’m too sober for this.”
“I told you to do a line with me in the car and you refused like the boring bitch you’re becoming.”
He clenched his jaw. “I’m trying to be more responsible… and I mentally scheduled that line for midnight.”
You shrugged and freed yourself from his hold. “Too late. I’ll do another one and come back.”
”Don’t finish the bag,” he called weakly as you walked away to the main hallways.
The second you were far enough from him, people started to approach him like nervous, sorta-scared fans. He posed for pictures with a stoic face, mentally cursing you for leaving him alone so early.
Being good at playing the sweet celebrity card also meant knowing how to avoid crowds. You knew Vought Tower all too well, so naturally, you went to the farthest bathrooms.
You swung the door open to the posh women’s restroom and checked every stall. “Empty,” you sang and excitedly took out your bag of coke.
It was boring doing it without Ben, but he had recently started using weed to relax. You weren’t complaining much; more coke for you.
You did the line, wiped away all evidence from the counter, and washed your hands. Faint music from the party reached your ears as the bathroom’s door opened. You barely glanced up as a hooded person came in.
Not caring much, you dried your hands and started fixing the lip combo that your husband’s kisses had messed up.
The figure stepped closer, leaning against the wall near you. They still hadn’t said anything, just stared at you with an unsettling intensity.
You side-eyed them. “Hi?”
They pushed the hood back and revealed your least favorite person, The Deep. “‘Sup,” he greeted you with a smirk.
You sighed and continued with your makeup. “Didn’t you read the sign on the door?”
He looked you up and down. “Mid dress, by the way. Are you on a mission to be a flop all year?”
Ignoring his words, you muttered, “What do you want?”
The Deep and you had never gotten well. He tried to hit on you at the start, but after humiliating him a couple of times in front of the team, he placed you on his enemies’ list. So you were absolutely sure he wasn’t there to gossip or giggle with you.
“I heard you’re giving tonight’s Vought speech,” he said between gritted teeth. “Who did you fuck to get that, huh?”
”Let’s see…” You bit your lip, pretending to be deep in thought as you counted with your fingers. “The executives from the twentieth floor, Noir, the lobby guy, all the marketing team and, yeah, basically everyone… except an octopus.”
His hands turned to fists as his face turned pink. “Watch your mouth.”
You smirked, always happy to rile him up. “I didn’t need to move a finger to get tonight’s speech. I’m the most famous Supe. What did you expect?”
The Deep’s jaw dropped. He seemed genuinely shocked for about ten seconds. “Are you serious? Like, seriously serious, dude?” He gestured to himself. “I am the most famous Supe in the whole world. Have you seen me? I’m handsome, rich—”
“Add comedian to the list,” you interrupted him with a sarcastic smirk.
He placed a hand on his hip. “I’m the fucking Deep, sweetheart. I have endorsements with Wendy’s and Old Navy. I’ve been in magazines. Meanwhile, you…” He scoffed. “You’re nothing without Soldier Boy. You’re just a hot housewife and a slutty puppet.”
You could feel your powers trembling inside you from the rage. He was completely wrong and just pushing your buttons, but you weren’t known for your patience.
“I’m the most followed person on Instagram and I’ve been on Vogue. Lie to yourself all you want. Nothing will change the fact that people love me while they just tolerate you.”
The Deep’s nostrils flared. “Love you? I haven’t seen you on most of this year’s red carpets, though.”
You couldn’t believe you were arguing with him about something that stupid. “I’m invited to everything, fried fish. I just prefer to spend time with my husband and loved ones… something you obviously don’t have.”
He inhaled as your words hit him. “Love…” He let out a fake chuckle. “You think that’s some kind of flex? Love only makes you weak.”
The drugs were starting to affect your system. You placed your makeup in your purse. “You think I’m weak?”
The Deep looked down at you with condescending confidence. “Sure do. Without powers, you’re nothing but a good pair of tits and—”
You raised one of your arms to send him flying across the bathroom. He crashed into the wall, his body slamming against it hard enough to crack the paint.
The Deep groaned as he slid down to the floor. “You little…” he whimpered, struggling to breathe. “Little bitch. I’ll get—”
Not wishing to listen to his pathetic rambling anymore, you walked out of the bathroom. Your heart was pounding like crazy and it definitely wasn’t from the coke.
You weren’t an idiot; you knew where The Deep and you had been standing: in the perfect, water-full place for him to use his powers. So you had no other option than to attack first and hard.
Ben was still in the bar, clutching his whiskey while surrounded by people. The second you re-entered the party, as if pulled by nature, his eyes found yours. But the relieved smile didn’t make it to his face.
Something was wrong; he noticed instantly.
Without hesitation, Ben excused himself from the group and walked straight to you. He gently grabbed your arm and studied your face. “You okay, princess?”
You tried to force a smile, but it wavered. “Hi. Yes, don’t worry.”
He squinted his eyes, noticing the tension in your expression and the slight flush in your cheeks. “What happened?”
Your hands found his shoulders. “Honey, you don’t wanna know.” You kissed his cheek. “I’m fine.”
Ben frowned, clearly not believing you. He had heard that lying tone from your stubborn mouth before. “Tell me,” he insisted. His hands cupped your face as he whispered, “You’re upset, doll.”
His firm (not angry… never angry at you) voice pulled your heartstrings. You gulped and mumbled, “The Deep appeared randomly, said some shitty things and we ended up fighting.”
Ben’s face darkened, his ears turning deaf to every voice but yours. “What did he say?”
“It’s not impor—”
“What did he say, Y/N?” he cut you off.
You sighed, stressed. “Classic Deep stuff, Ben. Called me a slut and—”
“That motherfucker…” he growled under his breath.
Without another word, Ben let go of you and marched out of the party. He knew which bathroom you usually took for coke breaks, so he didn’t look back as he planned many ways to make The Deep regret ever speaking to you.
“Ben, stop,” you muttered, following behind him and trying not to trip on your heels. “C’mon, let’s go back—”
The ladies’ room door opened as The Deep walked out, limping. He noticed your angry husband walking towards him and quickly scurried back inside.
Ben kicked the door open and wasted no second in throwing Deep to the ground. Just in case the sea boy tried anything, you used your telekinesis to control all the pipes in the room.
Ben grasped Deep’s collar and slammed him against the floor. “Who do you think you are, huh?”
”I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Deep cried.
Your husband punched him hard enough to draw blood and screamed to his face, “I should kill you for even daring to speak to my girl.”
Deep was sobbing now. “I won’t do it again. I swear!”
Ben wanted to throw more punches, but he couldn’t kill Deep tonight, so he just kicked him in the balls.
“You’re pathetic.” He pulled him up and threw him out the door. “Get the fuck off this party.”
You let your guard down as silence filled the bathroom. Ben sighed and washed his bloody hands on the sink. The sight caused your thighs to press together… and he noticed.
Ben closed the tap and smirked at you. “Really? Now?”
You bit your bottom lip and shrugged. “That was… something.”
The sexual tension was thick as you just stared at each other. Then, impulsively, you held onto his shoulders as his hands propped you up to wrap your legs around his waist. He pressed you to the wall and attacked your mouth hungrily and carelessly.
Bunching up your dress, Ben held you with one hand and wasted no time to move your panties with the other. He smirked against your lips. “So wet already. Did watching me beat that idiot turn you on?”
You clutched his shoulders at the feeling of his fingers teasing your entrance. “Y-yes. Fuck. You look so hot when you defend me.”
Ben snorted and pulled his hand back. “That’s why you’re always dripping for me like a damn fountain.”
You twitched your hips, desperate for contact. “Ben…”
But he gently lowered you to the ground. “I think I deserve a thank-you gift for tonight, right, princess?”
Despite the lust clouding your mind, you understood his words and quickly got on your knees. Ben helped you unclasp his belt as your trembling hands tried to push it all down.
Once his boxers freed his painfully hard cock, you looked up at him. “Did beating Deep turn you on?” you joked.
Ben rolled his eyes and grasped your hair in a makeshift ponytail. “Honey, I’ve been hard since you came out of our room in that dress.”
You smirked and grabbed his cock. There was no time for slowness, so you opened your mouth wide and took as much as you could. Ben groaned loudly and tightened his grip. You held onto his strong thighs and moved as fast and deep as his big size could let you.
Sucking Ben off had always been a challenge, but in the last six months, you had gotten on the mission of trying to deepthroat him. It was inhumanly possible, but now you could at least reach the middle without suffocating to death.
Ben looked down at you lustfully as you pleased him with devotion. “Just like that, princess. You’re doing so good.”
You pulled back until his tip reached your tongue, dived in until your jaw hurt, then repeated the cycle. Ben had to use all his willpower to not come right there and make you swallow it all. Seeing you do your best effort to please him, in a public bathroom at a party, was too much for him.
“Such a pretty mouth. So perfect,” he groaned. “But I need to come inside that pussy, baby. Get up.”
Disappointed by the interruption, you pulled away from his cock and stood up with wobbly knees. “I was almost reaching the base.”
Ben kissed your forehead. "I know, sweetheart. You were doing great, and we’ll continue that at home.”
He took off his jacket and placed it next to the sink. You bit your lip at the sight of his firm muscles pressing through his white shirt. You pulled your husband by his tie and kissed him passionately. His arms wrapped around your waist as he pressed his hard-on against you.
“Need you so bad, doll,” he mumbled. “Please.”
You pecked his lips and pointed to your discarded purse on the floor. “Grab a condom.”
Ben pouted and caressed your waist. “Baby... c’mon. I need to feel you,” he begged. He kissed your jaw and neck, looking for your weak spot. “Need to feel my wife coming as I fill her up.”
You moaned as he kissed you right below your ear. You had gotten back to birth control for this exact reason: Ben's infinite need to fuck you raw.
“Alright,” you muttered. “Just because you look so handsome tonight.”
Ben propped you up and aligned himself to your entrance. “Only ‘cause of that?”
You gasped at the warm feeling of his tip. “And... because you are the best husband ever?”
Ben pushed in just a centimeter. “Try again.”
You hated how cocky he could get during sex, but you couldn’t lie that he was an expert at making you desperate.
“And because I love when your cock fills me up— Oh!”
Ben slammed into you swiftly, thanks to how wet you were.
You whined and slapped his shoulder. “That hurt!”
He pouted mockingly. “Sorry. Too big?” He pulled back until the tip was almost slipping out of you. “Thought you could handle it by now, honey.”
He pushed in half-way slowly and elicited a moan out of you. “I c-can. I've had bigger,” you whimpered.
Ben scoffed, knowing you were lying but still getting a little jealous. He held you firmly by the thighs, got you off the wall and started pounding into you. Your husband could have placed you on the counter, but he wanted to show you how he can fuck you while only using his strong arms as support.
And, fuck, it turned you on badly.
You placed your arms around his neck and moaned uncontrollably as Ben manhandled you into him. His effort grunts against your lips were making your pussy clench.
“Fuck, fuck, baby…” you moaned. “Yes, right there!”
He bit your lip and squeezed your left thigh. “You feel so good, doll. Best pussy I’ve had.”
You smirked, realizing your previous comment about other men had struck a nerve. “Yeah? That’s why you married me?”
Ben nodded as he sped up. “Can’t let other men touch you. You’re mine forever, princess.”
You messily pushed down your cleavage, needing him to kiss you everywhere. The moment your breasts spilled out of the dress, your husband lowered his lips to your nipples. You threw your head back at the feeling of his tongue encircling them. “Oh, God!”
Ben squeezed your thighs hard to get your attention back. “Eyes on me. Say you're mine.”
“I’m yours,” you moaned. “F-forever. I’m never leaving you.”
Ben smirked as he noticed you were entering a submissive headspace. “Bet you would let me lock you home to keep you like my personal whore.”
You whined and nodded. “Y-yes.”
“No other job but letting me fuck you dumb.”
Your pussy clenching hard around his cock was answer enough. He grunted and drove rougher into you. “Fuck, you’re so tight.”
“Y/N? Are you here—?”
You two barely registered when the bathroom door was opened by a stressed-looking Ashley. She froze at the sinful sight. Her eyes lowered to where your bodies connected and she smirked. “Damn.”
You looked to your right and frowned. “Oh, hi. You need s-something?”
Ben shifted you up to leave hickeys around your breasts.
Ashley blinked and struggled to look into your eyes. “Uhm... It’s time for your speech. Everybody is waiting.”
You moaned as Ben sucked your left nipple. “Gimme t-three.”
“Five,” Ben grunted.
Ashley nodded, took one last glimpse at his enormous size splitting you open, and left in a hurry. Now she understood why you had married him after just a year of dating…
Ben held you in one arm, finding a comfortable position to keep fucking you without support, and rubbed your clit with his free hand. “Come for me. I can tell you’re close.”
You arched your back and kissed his face messily. “D-don’t stop. Right t-there.”
Ben rubbed you in a practiced way as he searched for your lips. “Come around me like the good girl you are.”
You whimpered, trembling as the waves of pleasure hit you. Your vision turned blurry and your lower body shook as Ben kept pounding into you. “Just like that, doll. Fuck, I’m gonna fill you up.”
You nodded pathetically. “I love you. Come where you deserve to.”
Ben smirked, your words squeezing his heart, and kissed you softly. “Love you too, baby.” He let out a loud grunt as he let go deep inside you. “Fuck!”
You rested your forehead on his shoulder when he finally stopped moving. “Holy shit…”
Ben walked to the sink counter and gently placed you on it. Both of you whined as he pulled out, his cum dripping out of you and staining your dress.
"Shit!" Ben looked around for napkins, then took a quick decision and sank two fingers into you.
You whimpered at the overstimulation. “Ben, no. I have to go.”
“I know,” he muttered and reached for paper towels with his free hand. “Sorry for not wanting your dress to get ruined.”
He slowly pulled away his fingers and replaced them with the napkins. He cleaned you gently and readjusted your underwear. “There you go.”
You were still panting as your husband put on his jacket and picked up your purse. Realization sinked in and you slowly turned to look at your reflection.
You were a fucked mess.
You groaned and stood up. “How am I gonna give a speech looking like this?”
Ben frowned and readjusted your cleavage. “You look gorgeous.”
“I don’t! Give me my purse,” you whined.
With napkins and water, you tried to fix your makeup while Ben helped with your hair.
Ashley knocked. “It’s been ten minutes!”
Your husband started cursing her, but you stopped him. “I’m ready!”
Your reflection wasn’t as perfect as before, but you looked acceptable.
Sensing your insecurity, Ben hugged you from behind and kissed your cheek. “You’re still the most beautiful woman at this party.”
You smiled lovingly at him. “Only this party?”
He huffed and playfully squeezed one of your breasts. “Saying ‘in the world’ was too corny.”
You teasingly pressed your back to his front before freeing yourself. “Let’s go before Ashley offers a threesome.”
Ben grimaced at the thought and followed you out.
Like the woman had said, everyone was waiting around the main stage. Cameras and lights were pointing at the microphone stand.
“Remember,” Ashley whispered. “Read the teleprompter. Don’t improvise. Orders from the high-ups.”
You reached the side of the stage with Ben holding your hand. Even though you were the speech deliverer, Ben had to enter with you to remind people that he was a supportive, perfect husband.
He squeezed your hand. “Don’t overthink it. Just another day at the job.”
You forced a smile. “Mhm.”
“And now, some words from our dear Y/N!”
The crowd went crazy as you two entered. Ben walked you to the microphone, kissed your temple, and stood a few steps to your left. The teleprompter behind the camera started running.
You smiled perfectly and read, “Hello, everyone! Hope you’re having a great night. I sure am and it’s all thanks to Vought. Let’s give them a round of applause!”
Everyone followed your order like a trained flock.
“Fellow Americans, as terrifying as the Starlighters’ actions have become recently, let us put aside our panic for tonight and celebrate our wonderful Vought.”
People applauded again. You took off the microphone and walked around the stage as you discreetly kept reading.
“I speak for all Supes when I say that we couldn’t be happier. This year we’ve done so much together to fight evilness, and it’s all from the goodness of our hearts and our wishes to help all of you.” You point at the camera. “And we’ll keep doing it with a wide smile. Because thanks to Vought, we are living our dreams. For example, me. Thanks to Vought I found the love of my life.”
You followed the teleprompter’s orders to smile at Ben and leave three seconds of silence for cheers. He just smiled politely to the camera. You walked to him and placed a hand on his chest as his arm found his usual spot around your waist.
“Thanks to Vought, I found my other half, my perfect, thoughtful, kind, most handsome husband. And—” you gulped as you tried to not let the next words affect you. “And maybe we will get our perfect finale soon by…” You touched your belly. “Expanding the family.”
Ben's smile wavered, but people were too excited to notice. He soothed your waist discreetly as he cursed Vought and whoever wrote the teleprompter’s script.
A while ago, you both had agreed to avoid having children while being Vought’s trained dolls. Ben would rather die than have his kids be Vought's products too. But if they had constructed your wedding as a big marketing show and had made you say this in front of millions of viewers... they were definitely brewing some plans for your love story’s next chapter.
You kept talking but not really processing the words as you used all your energy into not crying.
“... and that’s why my Soldier Boy and I are so thankful for Vought. Right, dear?”
He cleared his throat and replied to the mic, “Of course, honey.”
'FAMILY-FRIENDLY KISS' said the prompter. Ben hesitantly leaned down to kiss you. People were eating it up with cheers and hoots.
But you two... you knew what this kiss represented; it was the seal of it. The signature to your contract. And the speech was a wake-up call to both. You could miss red carpets and events; could go to the beach and the mountains; could try to have a normal married life, but at the end of your day, Vought was the one in control.
Vought was the one making decisions, and if they wanted you dead, alive, or pushing babies... you would obey.
“I love you,” Ben whispered for your ears only. Three words that were a promise: that no matter what Vought did, he would always be by your side.
You smiled weakly and intertwined your fingers. “I love you too.”
He kissed your hand, not for reactions, but so you could know how much you mean to him.
Ben wouldn’t react to Vought’s silent threats; he wouldn't destroy the party and run away. He was planning his next move quietly because he was determined to not let that sad spark remain in your eyes.
He would find a way to save you from Vought. This was the end of being nothing but their products.
s.boy x fem!reader ⋮ nsfw, 17+ ⋮ grinding ⋮ riding ⋮ mentions of war ⋮ ben being a cocky s.o.b ⋮ mean!ben ⋮ use of the words 'baby', 'slut', 'doll', and 'cockslut' ⋮ ass slap ⋮ no use of y/n ⋮ reader's appearance is not detailed !
“Look at ‘ya,” Ben grunts, watching you grind down on his lap, little skirt riding up your thighs as you rotate your hips. He had your legs bracketing his thighs, big hands rubbing your soft skin. A wicked smile adorns his lips. Ben’s eyes are narrow slits, green eyes swirling with hunger. “Little fuckin’ patriot.”
Ben was sitting propped up against a lawn chair in your backyard. His long legs were stretched straight out, boots planted firmly on the ground. Spurts of colors painted phantasmagoric images across the night sky, the booming sounds of fireworks ricocheting off the Earth. The lights bathed Ben’s face in red and blue shadows. He looked in his element– America’s colors bouncing off his skin.
It was the 4th of July- a holiday that Ben took seriously. He’d spent the day telling Hughie and Butcher stories from war and what the trenches were like. He recounted how he’d filled a commie with lead, only stopping when the magazine of his gun was empty. He lounged around on the couch and snapped at Butcher whenever he asked him to do something– using the excuse of how he fought for the country to be free. It was another Veterans day for him.
Ben nodded as your hands pawed at his chest, whimpering his name softly. “Please.. Ben, please.” Need had pooled between your legs, leaving a wet patch on his sweatpants right over his crotch.
His hand left your thigh to grab the bottle of beer sat next to him, hand gripping the neck of the bottle. He took a leisurely swig. Grinned when you ground your clothed pussy down onto the outline of his cock. He watched how you withered over him, hips bucking and twitching.
“Ready to thank me, baby?” He asked, setting his beer back down. His eyes glanced down at your figure, holding a sort of power in his gaze that never failed to make you shiver. “Fought for this fuckin’ country. Deserve some fuckin’ gratefulness for slaughtering them fuckin’ commies.”
Ben’s hand bunches up your jean skirt, thumb rubbing your clit through your panties. A jolt of pleasure shoots through you. A whimper falls past your lips, feeling yourself flutter and clench around nothing. When you nod, hips jerking as you chase for friction, Ben coos softly.
He helps you get his cock free from his sweats, pulling it from the slit in the front. You made a mental note to thank whatever high up above for him being allergic to wearing underwear. His cock is large in your hands, thick and heavy. The crown is flushed a deep shade of pink, twitching as you stroke up the length.
Like you were staring down at your favorite food, you felt your mouth water at the sight of it. You knew what would come next. You knew the delicious stretch of your cunt around him would feel like heaven. Every nerve inside your body felt frayed, anticipation bubbling through your veins and clouding your mind.
Ben leans back and grabs his beer, looking down at you without another word. His gaze is predatorial as he watches you peel your panties to the side. He brings the bottle to his lips as you line him up to your entrance, taking a long swig as you sink down on him.
“That’s it, jus’ like that. Bounce on that cock.” His words are slow as he watches you find a rhythm, hips rising and falling and rolling around him. “Earnin’ those stripes, huh slut?”
If you thought Ben was big in your hand, the looks of him was an extreme understatement to him inside you. He stretched your cunt out, thick length splitting you open. Just sitting on him, filled up to the brim, the tip of his cock was kissing your cervix. Your walls clenched around him, the stretch bordering on painful. But every inch felt like magic as he nudged himself further inside.
“Fuck! Ben.. so full.” You mumbled your words as your hips rocked, starting a sloppy rhythm. Your eyes had fluttered shut, focusing only on the immense pleasure each glide of his cock in your cunt brought exploding through your nerves.
Ben’s grunting is barely heard over the clamoring of crackles and booms coming from the sky. His free hand slithers behind your back to slap your ass each time you sink down. It’s not a little love tap– it’s a cracking smack that is sure to leave a handprint on your asscheek.
A mewl leaves your lips as you slip and slide on his cock, chasing after that sweet release. Ben laughs as he watches you try and fail to keep up with the tempo. He watches with faux sympathy before he slams his hips up, length pistoning into you.
His pace is wild. Animalistic. He lets his now empty beer bottle clatter to the ground, hands gripping knot your hips. His hands ignite a fire in your skin, burning all the way down to your bones. He guides you forcefully until you’re babbling and your body goes limp.
“Fuckin’ perfect little pussy.” His voice is rough like gravel, shooting fireworks of pleasure rattling your ears. His grasp is bruising, skin tingling as he slams your hips down against his. “squeezin’ me s’well. shit, I’d fight another million fuckin’ commies just to feel this cunt ‘gain.”
The coil in your abdomen feels tightened, every stroke of his length hurdling you closer to the edge. Every ridge and vein of his cock was indented into your cunt, absolutely ruining you for anyone else. This moment— when Ben’s watching your greedy pussy welcome his cock every time he rutted his hips up into you— was better than winning a damn war.
“Rub that fuckin’ clit, doll.” The command fell from his lips easily, voice smooth as whiskey. “Fuckin’ cum on my cock, you little cockslut.”
Your fingers trembled as they found their place nestled between your folds, rubbing tight circles on your clit. Your eyes fluttered closed. Just focusing on how good everything felt.
You came in tandem with the last boom from the fireworks show, light exploding in the sky as light exploded behind your eyes. It was messy— cunt dripping down the length of him. Walls squeezing him so tight he shot up into you, his mark painting your cervix.
“Happy fuckin’ Independence Day.” He groaned, cock twitching inside of you.
Your body slumped against him, chest heaving as you crashed down from your high. Every light seemed brighter, every crackle louder, and every pass of Ben’s hand up and down your back had you shivering.
This 4th of July would be one for the books.
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i haven’t seen anyone talking about shotgunning weed with soldier boy and i think we need to rectify that
I can just picture this being a moment in bed, a post sex joint being lit as you still sat on his lap- cock softening inside you slightly as he prepares to breathe in a drag, looking up at you.
“C’mere…” Ben mutters, the fat blunt sticking out the corner of his mouth- a hand moves upward toward your jaw to take a weirdly gentle hold.
Ben brings your face down to his, lips closing over as he breathes in the pungent smoke, his chest rising as he fills them before taking it out of his mouth.
“Open wide.”
He watches your mouth fall open- his fingers moving to pinch your cheeks, giving him the opportunity to expel the cloud in between your lips for you to breathe in.
He hears your lungs take it all in, and it satisfies him greatly to watch his girl do so.
“That’s it…” he grins, watching his fucked dumb and newly high girlfriend giggle lucidly as you exhaled the remaining weed in your body. “My pretty little doll…”
You felt him twitch, his cock beginning to harden again- and your hips started to move slightly, making him groan and lay back, taking another drag as he watched you whimper and grind on him.
“Yeah, grind on that cock baby. Do it like it was made for you.”
at first, ben despised the idea of anything pr related. he let it slide when vought started to go hollywood and he became more of a heart throb than a hero. but, a pr relationship was a lot.
until they told ben the truth.
you were made just for him.
miss merica. ben never saw anything more beautiful in red, white and blue.
and you were nothing but america's sweetheart. all bright smiles and soft words— perched right next to soldier boy in front of dozens of cameras— talking about how honored you were to be standing there with vought. with ben.
he learned to love having you next to him. his pretty little arm candy. america's favorite couple.
but it took him a while to get you to stand next to him so pretty.
"ohhh–b-soldier boy!" you couldn't feel anything but ben. his huge arms were pinning you down completely.
your eyes were blurring so much that the green in ben's suit was taking over your vision and his tongue was taking over everything else.
you could lie and say you were shocked you ended up with soldier boy in your bedroom at vought tower. but really, it was inevitable.
you knew you really wanted each other when he started practically living with you. sleeping in your bed, changing in your green room— he refused to eat a meal without you.
and you knew it was more real than you realized when clara started looking at you like you took her favorite toy.
because really, you did.
ben's eyes were shut while his mouth was sucking in anything your pussy had to give him. he'd been doing this for a while— almost an hour now.
he pulled back from your soaked cunt to hit his heavy palm against it. you jolted at the sensation and whined up at him.
he grinned at your reaction with that stupid soldier boy smile. he was rubbing your clit now to sooth you from the smack and simultaneously keeping you on edge.
he laughed at you before leaning back down and getting ready to dive in again.
"come on doll, i wanna see how sweet america's sweetheart can really get."
