Summary: Though you don't really want to, Butcher persuades you to fuck Soldier Boy in front of him since he believes that your relationship is becoming duller by the day.
Pairing: Soldier Boy, Billy Butcher / Reader
Warnings: Dark Fiction!, +18! (MINORS DNI), smut, dirty talk, threesome, rough Soldier Boy, Butcher is a manipulative boyfriend , hair pulling, breath playing, kinda forced, established relationship, forced oral sex, multiple orgasms, reader is manipulated, overstimulation, porn without plot, a plot twist in the end
Word Count: 2709
A/N: English is not my first language.
This is for @anundyingfidelity. I love you and your stories, bestie.
You let out a loud gasp as you locked your legs around Butcher's hips, squeezing him till he hit your most sensitive spots.
Sucking his lower lip, you used one hand to brush his thick beard and the other to nail his back in an attempt to stop yourself from moaning.
"Don't hold yourself back, love," he smirked at you. Let me listen to those lovely sounds. You are free to be as noisy as you would like to."
You questioned, "What if he's listening?" and gasped softly as Butcher tightly gripped your nipple and squeezed one of your tits, causing you to scream.
He continued, firmly thrusting his cock inside your pussy, “Are you afraid he's jerking off right now to your moanings? He better be.”
You cried out, “Don't say such things,” as he began to fuck into you more and more inside of you.
He spit in his palm and began to stroke your clit, muttering, “Why? Imagine him jerking off while watching us, getting hard watching your cunt railed by me.”
“Screw you, Butcher. Shut up,” you said, hitting him fiercely on the shoulder as he attempted to make you scream once again.
“The thought of you looking like this fucking drives me on so much. Are you okay with him watching us? Do you want to see your pussy full of my jizz as he watches you being fucked and cum in his hands? He must be beating his cock right now, hearing me filling your tight cunt.”
“No,” you said as you raised your hips in an attempt to match his tremendous rhythm. When he spoke to you in that manner, it was difficult to get off. “Cut it, Butcher.”
Despite your constant statements that you weren't into that kind of thing, Butcher was becoming more and more brutal with each stroke. This put your relationship on the brink, but you still cared deeply for him and found it difficult to please him at times, which left you feeling quite exhausted.
Butcher roared, “Fuck, yes,” slowing down to take his time and enjoy the twisted moment. “Maybe I should let him watch next time or even join; let him fuck you raw.”
You managed to say, “I don't like it when you talk this way,” in between his embarrassing words.
“Your body seems to like it, though,” Butcher remarked slyly. “Right now, your pussy clenches around my cock so well. Are you okay with him fucking you?”
“No,” you said, your eyes welling up with tears from his powerful hits, which were both pleasurable and painful. Even though you were so close, he was taking his time to enrage you. “All I want is you. The only person I want to fuck is you.”
Butcher turned you, pressing your face into the covers with a roar. You forced yourself to look away as he continued talking about really obscene things and becoming lost in his own fantasies, but his hand stopped you from speaking.
“I'm going to let him fuck you and rail your tight cunt till he fills your pussy up, until you are ready for me to be filled. Is it okay if he spills inside your pussy? Would you rather be fucked by someone else in front of your boyfriend?”
His hand over your mouth prevented you from denying it and telling him to stop talking. Your eyes welled up with tears as you continued to scream into his palm as he began to pound into you quickly and violently. While your other hand was firmly gripping the sheets beneath you, you tried to get him to relax by holding his palm to your mouth, but he pressed it even harder. You were really close.
“See your pussy's reaction to me. You need another cock so much. My girlfriend is such a big slut; I didn't know that.”
This time, Butcher moved his hand away from your lips and gave you a hard spanking on your ass cheek, nearly causing you to shout out in agony and pleasure. You moaned, “Please,” not really comprehending what you were pleading for.
“Please what?” Excited, Butcher asked. He continued to stroke his cock inside of you while gathering and pulling your hair. “Tell me you want to be fucked by him. How much do you want to be fucked by him, huh? Imagine Soldier Boy sucking your cunt.”
With one forceful stroke, Butcher slammed his cock into your pussy just as you tightened around it, roaring as he began to come inside of you. You finally clutched around his cock, moaning as your orgasm hit strong because his triggered yours.
“Fuck, love. That was good,” Butcher remarked, grunting as he removed his softened cock from your pussy.
Your cheeks reddened as you straightened your skirt, pulling up your underwear and giving him a furious look. “You know I don't like it when you talk about threesomes or anything related.”
He murmured, “Come on,” embracing you in his arms as he lit a cigarette. “We haven't been together for fucking two years, and you're not interested in trying anything new. You are aware that our relationship is currently becoming a little monotonous.”
You questioned with shock and disgust, “Boring? We love each other. Is this not enough?”
“Love can't solve everything out, my dear.” Butcher planted a firmly planted kiss on your lips. “You need to be receptive to new ideas. You know, I wasn't aware that you were so old-fashioned-minded.”
You refused, blushing with shame. “I'm not,” you said. “But what if it ruins our relationship?”
“It fucking won't,” he murmured, running his fingers over your tender spot. “It will make our relationship even better than before.”
You asked, hoping that at some point he would change his mind because it was twisted as fuck and you didn't want another man to touch you: “Do you really want to watch me getting fucked by someone else though?” Not Soldier Boy, in particular.
“Is it not evident? I want to jerk off and watch your gorgeous pussy get filled up with another man's sperm while you scream and get fucked hard.”
You sighed and reluctantly replied, “Okay.” A grin appeared on Butcher's face. He was shocked to see that, after weeks of trying, you were finally saying yes. “So be it.”
A week later, with just the three of you living in the house, Butcher was fucking you with his fingers when Soldier Boy burst through the door, smoking some weed.
When your eyes met his green ones, you wanted to press your knees together, but Butcher grabbed you firmly and murmured, “Don't be shy, relax,” as if it were natural and not at all awkward.
Before giving you a sly grin, Soldier Boy sat on the closest chair and smelled the white from the desk in front of him.
You made an effort to clear your head and concentrate just on the pleasure. You moaned in protest when Butcher stopped, leaving you on edge, just as your walls were about to tighten.
He noticed and then said, “You're ready now,” whispering to your lips as Soldier Boy removed his shirt, his broad muscles in sight.
After Butcher kissed you firmly, you put your knees together and sat in the chair that was very next to the bed, feeling a little uneasy.
Soldier Boy whispered, “Let's see what your little girlfriend is capable of.” He worked his cock and pulled down his sweatpants. “Come here.”
He moved your body on the bed before you could respond, put his hand behind your back, and brought his cock to your lips. You assumed it would be limited to simple fucking. In your lengthy partnership, even Butcher had only ever fucked your mouth two or three times. Now, a stranger who you had never even fucked before was going to make you suck him.
Before you could say anything, he slipped his cock between your lips, and your pulse was pounding in your chest. You gagged strongly, pressing your hands across his thighs to make him slow down.
With a deep voice, Butcher said, “Suck him good,” stroking himself as he watched your eyes well up with tears from being fucked on the mouth.
Soldier Boy moaned, “Use that mouth better,” and forcefully pressed his cock to your throat. It was difficult to swallow everything because it was so much larger than Butcher's.
His hand stoked your hair as you palmed his testicles and squeezed him, all while using your tongue to satiate him and get him to release his grip.
When you began to use your tongue and hands simultaneously, he groaned loudly. "Look at her eagerness. Desperately trying to make me cum in her mouth like a bitch.”
He halted your motion, grasped his shaft, and fixed your head in position. His precum was dripping from the tip, and his thumb hovered over the head of the cock.
This time, he said, “Suck the head,” pressing the head between your lips once more. “Look at me.”
His salty precum covered your tongue as you sucked the head off his shaft and took a look at him. It tasted nasty and salty. similar to Butcher's.
As he watched you suck Soldier Boy's hardness, Butcher remarked, “Fuck, you are so hot like this, baby,” and continued to stroke his dick.
“Fuck, I'm about to cum; don't you fucking stop.” With a moan, Soldier Boy kept your head still.
When he told you he was getting close, you attempted to back off. After all, you've never been fond of the taste of sperm.
Butcher remarked with a cunning smirk, “She doesn't like it to be spilled in her throat. You may, however, spill over her face. She finds it more appealing.”
“Do you take permission when you fuck her mouth and are about to cum?” With a single, hard thrust, Soldier Boy laughed and plunged his cock deep into your throat. His legs continued to push against your hands, which were trying to stop him before he reached your mouth, and your eyes began to well up with tears. “Relax your throat or it will be harder for you.”
When he groaned and began to fuck into your mouth, pushing it all the way down and spilling, filling your lips with his thick, white ropes, you kept moaning in fear. “Swallow it all.”
“Yes, fuck,” Butcher groaned out. "You're so fucking hot like this. Allow him to fill that lovely mouth."
You followed his instructions, and when he finished spitting inside your throat and you gasped, he pulled his cock out of your lips.
Soldier Boy pushed you to the bed and stated, “Not bad, but it can be better,” preventing you from catching some air.
He immediately inserted two fingers into your pussy and groaned, “Fucking slut. You are very wet. Look at you. Is it pleasant to get face-fucked by someone else in front of the one you love?”
“No,” you replied, trying not to break down too soon and astonished at how already wet you were. You were incredibly close.
“You adored it to the hilt. Perhaps you enjoy being forced? Did you enjoy being dominated?”
This time, you didn't respond, and as you rode your climax, your walls constricted around his fingers, causing your lips to separate in pleasure. You moaned so loudly that it caused Butcher to experience an orgasm as well.
“Fuck, sweetie.” He said, “I knew you would like it,” as he approached you and observed Soldier Boy continuing to finger your pussy. You wanted him to slow down, but he kept forcing his fingers inside, even though you felt oversensitive and your legs were shaking.
With a “Now it's time for real fuck,” Soldier Boy turned to face you and gave you a spank to your ass behind you.
Soldier Boy moved behind you, pumping his hardness a little harder, and Butcher took himself in hand again.
When Soldier Boy shoved his cock inside and Butcher groaned, “Look at me when he fucks you,” you closed your eyes.
When you opened your eyes, you saw him stroking himself while he watched you get railed by another man.
You were momentarily out of breath when Soldier Boy began to fuck you raw and hard while holding your hips tightly. His balls were slamming against your clit and making nasty noises while he was hissing behind you. You bit your lip to stop yourself from moaning, but as soon as he began to quickly stroke your most sensitive area, you began to scream with both pleasure and pain.
Soldier Boy growled, “You fucking shameless slut,” and he hurried to get behind you. “Look at your guy as he takes himself in hand while I'm giving you a raw fuck. You enjoy being taken on by a stranger so much, don't you? You tightly clasp around me. Fuck it. From now on, I will fuck you every day.”
He forced your head into the covers, causing you to gasp for air while he continued to pound into you. You tried to get a breath, but you were powerless against his strong grip.
He grinned and added, “Cum around my cock or I'm not going to let you go. Cum around my cock while your boyfriend watches you getting railed.”
You clenched around him, desperate for air, and with a silent groan, you stepped around him. His strong hands made you tremble, and your climax lingered longer than expected, much to your surprise.
“This is how you fuck your woman,” Soldier Boy declared. “By stopping fucking taking permissions and giving what her slut body needed.”
Butcher got to the bed with a roar, and you found yourself on top of him. “Come here, baby.”
Your eyes widened in horror as Butcher shoved his cock inside your pussy while Soldier Boy was still inside of you. You trembled and whispered, “It's not possible.”
Your ass got spanked by Soldier Boy, who moaned, “Fucking shut up.”
You clasped your hands around Butcher's arms and screamed as their huge cocks were shoved in your pussy.
“You're so gorgeous like this, taking our cocks so good,” Butcher murmured when he simultaneously began to fuck you and so did Soldier Boy.
To press your pained moans, you started to kiss Butcher while Soldier Boy kept soaking and insulting you as he fucked you from behind.
“Such sluts like you have to be fucked exactly like this. For you, one cock is never enough. See your body's reaction when you take two dicks at once. You're encircling me with clamps and fucking leaking.”
Butcher moaned, “Keep going,” as he gave you short, hard strokes.
Soldier Boy muttered, “Gonna fill you up, baby,” and gently bit your neck while speaking in your ear.
Soldier Boy moaned as he fucked you with Butcher, and with one last blow, he began to spill inside of you, causing Butcher to have another orgasm. This continued until Soldier Boy humiliated you with words in every way possible.
With a loud gasp, you clamped around Butcher and continued to kiss him passionately.
Soldier Boy moaned, “Oh fuck,” as he continued to spill his thick white ropes inside of you and kissed the back of your neck firmly.
Turning your back to him, you kissed him on the lips passionately and said, “That was so good, baby.”
⋆⋅☆⋆☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋆☆⋅⋆
A/N: It’s not as good as as I hoped, but it’s something I guess. Let me know what you think about this one. 🩷
Summary: Ben is highly against when other men hit on you
Original Prompt: Requested by anonymous | HEYYY THERE. First of all- I love your work so freaking much. Second of all- if you’re still accepting requests I was wondering if I could ask for a soldier boy x reader where they’re out at a bar and some creepy guys hits on her?? Basically how Ben would react and everything. THANK YOU SO MUCH LOVE <333
Word Count: 2.3k
Warnings: Cursing (21x) & Possessive!Ben
Authors Note: I re-wrote this I think like a handful of times cause I honestly wasn’t happy with it. But now I am finally happy with it | I really hope you guys liked the way this turned out | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡
“So tell me why you fucking dragged me here again?” Ben asked, walking very close behind you that he might as well be attached to your back.
“Hughie’s birthday,” you reminded him.
“Remind me again why he invited me?” Ben asked. “Because we aren’t really buddy-buddy babe.”
“Because believe it or not, he doesn’t hate you,” you said. “Besides, even if he didn’t invite you, I would have dragged you here anyway cause he said I could bring a plus one. And you my guy, are my plus one.”
He rolled his eyes. “I seriously do not want to fucking be here. I have other things I could be doing than hanging out with your friends.”
You turned to him, cocking a brow. “Like what? Smashing bennies on our kitchen counter while you watch re-runs of M*A*S*H?”
He furrowed his brow, hating that you knew him all too well. “Fuck you,” was how he chose to respond.
“Fuck you too,” you smirked. “Now let’s go grandpa,” you said, taking his hand in yours and making your way to the back table where your friends probably already were.
“Y/N!” Hughie exclaimed, holding a beer in his hand. “You made it!”
“Of course I did,” you smiled; him and you exchanging hug. “I wouldn’t miss actually seeing Butcher let loose,” you winked.
“You’ve seen it plenty of times luv,” he said, picking up a shot of vodka.
“Yeah but, that was when strictly murder was involved,” you clarified. He shrugged his shoulders in response, knocking back the shot.
“She dr—” he started to say, but changed his mind when he saw you, looking at him with the biggest ‘do not piss me off’ look. “Wouldn’t have missed it.”
“So, what’s everyone drinking?” You asked.
“White claw as usual for me. But we have beer and vodka shots too,” Annie replied, gesturing around the table as your eyes followed the drinks.
“Anyone in the mood for some rum?” You asked. “Kinda in the mood for a rum and coke myself.”
“You’re always in the mood for rum and coke,” Ben mumbled. “Rum and my coc—” He mumbled again, but you quickly cut him off, not wanting him to finish his sentence.
“Okay!” You clapped. “I’m gonna go get some rum and coke. Ben, you wanna come with me?” You asked, turning in his direction.
Ben weighed his options: he could either sit at this table making small talk with your friends that he had nothing in common with, or he could go with you to the bar and maybe have the chance to convince you to have a quickie in the bathroom. “I’ll come with you.”
“Perfect!” You clapped again, aggressively taking his hand as the two of you started making your way toward the bar.
As soon as you and Ben were out of ear and eyeshot, Annie was the first one to break the silence. “So, what’s going on with them? Because whenever I bring up their relationship she always changes the subject.”
“They aren’t in a relationship,” Butcher clarified. “Not a real one anyway.”
“I mean, friends with benefits is kind of a relationship,” Annie said. “I mean, it’s not like the two of them don’t have feelings for each other ya know?”
“How do you figure?” Butcher asked.
“You don’t see the way the two of them look at each other? Those are more than ‘I only fuck you cause you’re convenient eyes’,” she explained.
“He doesn’t love her. Dont think the cunt is even capable of love,” Butcher replied, taking another shot of vodka.
“Did you actually want rum and coke or did you just want us to have some alone time?” He smirked. “Come and cock if you will.”
“Why does everything that comes out of your mouth sound disgusting?” You asked, not nearly as disgusted as you were over a year ago when you had first met him. Because you had been around him for as long as you have, you had basically become desensitized to basically everything he had said or did. Him walking around naked? Just an average Tuesday. Him snorting coke while you make pasta? Just an average Friday.
“I thought you liked the things that came out of my mouth,” he winked.
“We are not doing this right now,” you warned him.
“I mean we could. Your heart is beatin’ rather fast right now. And your cheeks are turning that pinkish color they usually get whenever you wanna jump me,” he smirked.
“Either go and sit down or stay quiet. Cause I don’t need these random people in this bar to know about our sex life,” you whispered yelled.
“Where’s your sense of adventure Sweetheart?” He smirked again, starting to tug on your empty belt loop on your jeans.
“Ben,” you whispered through gritted teeth.
“What?” He asked, whispering in your ear. “It’s not like anyone’s paying attention to us. This bar is fucking crowded.” He pulled you close, and kissed your neck; which caused you to let you a tiny moan. “There she is,” he smirked against your skin.
“Okay. I need you to go sit down,” you said, Ben still very much kissing your neck.
“You really want me to go and do that when we can go into the bathroom and have a good and quick fuck?” He whispered.
His offer was tempting, more tempting than you would have liked to admit. But you had to restrain yourself, at least right now — because you didn’t want to get fucked in a dirty bar bathroom. “Ben,” your voice stern.
He knew that voice all too well, and he immediately stopped what he was doing. “Fine,” his voice annoyed. “Gonna go sit by your friends.”
“Ben, you can still stand here. Just keep your hands to yourself,” you told him, but he was already half way across the room. “Fucking child,” you whispered, full well knowing that he would still be able to hear you.
“Pain in my fucking ass,” he mumbled to himself.
“They’re been over there a long time,” Hughie said, trying to see over the sea of people. “Oh wait! Here they come.” But instead of you and Ben coming back toward the table, it was just Ben; and everyone looked at him with slight confusion. “Where’s Y/N?”
“Getting her rum and coke. Weren’t you paying attention?” Ben slightly snapped.
“Jesus,” Hughie mumbled.
“I think what he means is, I thought you were getting one with her,” Annie said.
“Trouble in paradise?” Butcher asked slightly smirking; holding up a shot of vodka for Ben to take. Ben just rolled his eyes and took the shot. “That’s what I thought.”
“Can someone fucking move so I can sit the fuck down?” Ben asked, his voice full of annoyance.
As you waited at the bar for yours and Ben’s drinks, you tapped your fingers along to the music that was playing even though it was very muffled sounding due to the immense crowd in the bar tonight. “Hey little lady,” you heard a male voice say, but you ignored it, thinking that he was probably talking to the girl next to you. But then you felt an aggressive tapping on your shoulders. For a split second you thought that maybe it was Ben, but you knew he would never do something like that to you.
When you turned around, a man about a few inches taller than you stood in front of you. “You talking to me?” You asked.
He scoffed. “Yeah, who else would I be talking to pretty lady?” His words made you shudder. “Cold?”
“Uh yeah…I uh…I run a little cold,” you lied. Fuck, he noticed the shuddering, you thought.
“You can borrow my jacket,” he said, starting to take off a leather jacket that reeked of menthol and cheap whiskey.
“No I’m good, thanks though,” you said, trying your best to be nice. “Besides, I’d never see you again, so you would never get your jacket back.”
“See, I fully intend on seeing you Sweetheart,” he said. “In more ways than one,” he winked. Again, you felt your body shudder. “Are you sure you don’t want my jacket? It’s honestly really fucking hot. Kinda like you.”
Oh sweet baby Jesus, you thought. “I’m good honestly. And plus, I’m sure my friends have a jacket I can borrow.”
“Your friends uh?” He cocked a brow. “They as hot as you?” You honestly didn’t know how to answer that, so you just stood there a little dumbfounded. “I’ll tell you what, I’ll give you my number and we can meet up later for a little party.”
“I don’t thin—” you started to answer.
“And before you say no. I’m sure you would love it, it’s a sex party. Like uh, that Herogasm. Ever been to Herogasm?” He asked.
Of course you’ve been to Herogasm; but it wasn’t for pleasure on any account (as that kind of thing wasn’t remotely your thing). You were strictly there to make sure things didn’t go more south than they already did. “That’s not really my —”
“I really think you’d enjoy it,” he said. “The guy who created it must of been such a freak.” You have no idea, you wanted to say.
“Soldier Boy,” you said, and the man looked at you with slight confusion, furrowing his brow. “Created it…Hero…gasm…”
“Oh shit he did! Man, that guy is a fucking legend,” the man said. “Hey, you think he would still be going to those if he didn’t get killed in that nuclear thing in Ohio back in the eighties?”
“I honestly wouldn’t know,” you said, starting to actually get embarrassed.
“Anyway, enough about that guy. Have you ever had a threesome?” He asked, abruptly changing the subject.
“Hey Sugar,” you heard Ben say from behind you.
“Get in line pal,” the guy said. “She’s with me.”
Ben raised a brow out of amusement. “Oh she is, is she?”
“Yeah and—hey, has anyone ever told you that you kinda look like Soldier Boy? Man, he was my favorite,” the man said. If Ben’s ego couldn’t get any higher…
“He gets that a lot,” you chimed in.
“Shit, you two know each other?” The man said, looking back and forth between you and Ben.
“Yeah,” Ben said. “We’re real familiar with each other. So why don’t you scam before I break your nose for hitting on my girlfriend here?”
The man couldn’t help himself but scoff. “Girlfriend? Dude, you wish.” Oh no.
“Excuse me?” Ben asked. “I don’t think I heard you quite right.”
“Of course you didn’t, cause you’re an old, fucking —”
Ben’s hands went into fists, and you felt him start to push past you, but you stopped him by pressing a firm hand on his chest, which was starting to get unbelievably hot. “Let’s go sit down. Annie just texted me asking me where we are.”
The drinks that the bartender made you and Ben got slid toward you, and you picked them up, attempting to hand a glass for him to hold to replace one of his fists. “Don’t wanna worry her now would we?” Ben said, his voice still full of anger, but it was attempting to sound calm.
“You’re pissed at me aren’t you?” Ben asked, as the two of you started making your way toward the table.
“Why do you think I’m pissed at you?” You questioned.
“Because I didn’t let you handle that yourself,” he answered. “I know you’re all about feminism or whatever, but I didn’t like the way he was talking to you.”
“I admit what you did was slightly more alpha than I would have liked but, I’m not remotely pissed at you,” you told him. “It was kinda…hot actually,” you confessed. “I’m just more intrigued by the choice of words you used.”
“What words?” He raised a brow, the two of you stopping in your tracks mere feet away from the table.
“The fact that you called me your girlfriend,” you said. “You could have just said friend, but you choose to use the word girlfriend.”
“Jesus Christ,” he rolled his eyes. “We are not having this conversation now.”
“But you can grope me in a crowded bar?” You asked, cocking your head.
“That’s different,” he said.
“H-okay, I’m not gonna touch that. But seriously? I think we should really talk about this at some point because you’ve been doing that a lot lately,” you said.
“Doing what?” It was his turn to cock his head, and look at you with slight confusion.
“Calling me your girlfriend,” you stated.
He rolled his eyes again. “Tell me one time before this time that I called you my girlfriend.”
“Literally yesterday,” you responded all too quickly.
“Because some creep was hitting on you. To be fair, you call me your boyfriend,” he said, trying to turn this conversation in his favor somehow.
“I have never once called you my boyfriend,” you stated.
“You did. Yesterday when you were on the phone with your mom,” he told you.
“A conversation that I told you not to listen in on might I add,” you retorted.
“Okay, that’s besides the point. Point is —”
“Look, I’m gonna make this simple. Do you want me to be your actual girlfriend or not?” You asked bluntly, cutting him off.
“What?” He asked, for some reason acting like he was confused.
"I'm tired of beating around the bush okay? We like fucking, we already live together, and we genuinely like spending time with each other. So, why not just make things official?" Ben knew that you had a point. "So, do you want to be my boyfriend or not?"
"Yes," he replied, sounding slightly annoyed.
"What?" You asked, sighing.
"I wanted to be the one to ask," he mumbled.
"Fucking Christ," you mumbled.
Tag List: @syrma-sensei @k-slla @justletmereadfanfic @deans-daydream @midorimachisenpaii @rachiem4-blog @zepskies
Summary: During a mission, Soldier Boy receives a hug from you unexpectedly. He likes it.
Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x female supe!reader.
Word count: 0.9k
Warnings: canon violence and language, reader is kinda hurted, descriptions of blood and stuff, AU where Ben is working with the team on missions (which is what should've happened on the show btw), Soldier Boy being Soldier Boy lmao, Ben and reader are totally opposites and I live for that. Based on this post.
Note: soooo I'm still making some arrangements to my Soldier Boy long fic and instead I have this short drabble in the meantime. Hope you enjoy it hehe.
the boys/jackles tags: @k-slla
(if anyone would like to be added to my tags just tell me^^)
☕ if you like my writing, support me with a ko-fi !
GEN MASTERLIST!
You groanned, feeling the hard wall hit against your back. It was hard to believe but you thought probably you wouldn't go out of this alive. Your body ached and not even your strenght could stop this guy.
Fucking Butcher, why did you have to follow him to suicide again? Just a couple of cunts, he said. But he forgot to mention they had a weird improved dosis of V injected.
You fell to the ground as the man walked towards you. He was extremely tall and well-buff. No sense the Compound V on his system made him better, or at least that's what he thought. He was tossed to the ground by your side, and you crawled to the corner of the small room.
The distance was not enough to let you run away. You stayed there, watching Soldier Boy's big frame over the man. He used his shield, beting him to death and destroying his face and neck during the process. You were so damn sure his loud groans of pain would remain on your mind at least for a couple of days.
"Fucking pussy," the old man said, wipping some blood off his face. He got on his feet ungracefully and grabbed his shield back. He turned to look at you, still sitting on the floor. "You okay?"
You nodded. "Yeah."
He held you a bloody hand, which you took to stand up. There was an akward silence as you and Ben left the small room, you followed him around the dirty basement, filled with lifeless bodies and fluids on the ground, to meet with Butcher and Hughie.
"Guess those were all," Butcher announced.
"I have the remaining dosis," you took the tube from the pocket of your pants and showed them with a smile on your face. "Was the last one."
"Excellent," Butcher grabbed it and tossed it to Hughie, who saved the tube on a bag.
"We made it out, huh," you mumbled.
"Well, we're still down here, so," Hughie shrugged and three pairs of eyes narrowed at him. "What?"
"Just think positively, for once," you pleaded with a fake sharp tone. "Isn't that hard, y'know."
Ben rolled his eyes.
"We're on a fucking shithole, the kid's right. Let's go now before any of you fuck this up," he ordered and passed by between Butcher and Hughie, hitting his shoulder intentionally in the process.
You quickly followed behind his long soldier strides. "Wait!"
Soldier Boy scoffed and closed his eyes slowly only to open them again. You stood on his way with a big smile and wide eyes. Bruises and blood adorned your face and neck, your clothes were also splattered with dry blood and dirt after killing those clandestine stupid supes on an undercover mission at night, and still you acted like nothing had happened. He stood in place, with Hughie and Butcher standing behind expecting what the fuck you'd be doing this time. Sometimes he thought you were so fucking annoying.
"The fuck you want?"
You opened your lips to say something but nothing came out. Once you closed them, you beamed again and closed the distance between him and you. You wrapped your arms around his strong waist and rested your grubby check against his chest. He tensed visibly under your hug and after a moment you pulled away, your hands behind your back with a shy smile. Hughie and Butcher were clearly holding back a good laugh. They knew better not to mock Soldier Boy, not yet though.
Ben blinked a couple of times, trying to process what happened.
"What the fuck was that?"
You giggled. "Affection."
He wrinkled his nose. "Disgusting."
You gasped and faked sadness on your voice. "Why? I was just saying 'thank you for saving my ass'."
"It's fucking nothing," he rolled his eyes and started to walk again to guide the team outside, with the other two men with playful smirks on their faces following behind.
"Ben!" you quickly caught his pace to stand by his side. "Thank you, okay? Probably you don't like physical contact but I do. And this is how I show others that I care about them and that I'm thankful. I also give hugs because I like them and–"
"Shh!" Ben raised his hand, suddenly stopping his tracks by the end of the stairs that'd lead you outside. He turned and looked at you with that grumpy face of his. "I said you're welcome, sweetheart. Now we need to go, you can talk to me about your hugs shit later."
He pointed to Hughie and Butcher. "Now, you, cocksuckers, go up."
Butcher grinned, going first. "Sure, cap."
"You shut up," Soldier Boy warned, Hughie gulped and nodded, and made his way up on the stairs.
You stood there, with a smile on your lips. Always that fucking, idiotic, stupid smile, even after hard missions like the one you just had. It was like if you were the only one who didn't seem scared of him or anything else. Sure, you were a supe and a smart asset on the team. But still, a very peculiar lady through his eyes.
He sighed and rolled his eyes. Once Butcher and Hughie were out of sight he finally talked.
"Do it again."
"Excuse me?"
"The stupid hug, do it again."
You raised your eyebrows, eyes bright as you realized his request. "Really?!"
"God, woman. Do I need to fucking repeat my—?"
His words were cut by your strong hug. You crashed against his frame so hard he lost balance for a bit. He was certainly surprised by how warm your hug it actually felt. You angled your eyes to see his face.
"Thanks!"
You let him go and got up the stairs. He barely curved his lips at how happy you climbed them. Yeah, well he actually liked your stupid hugs.
Summary: Your wandering hands are keeping Ben up at night.
AN: My nightly daydreams led me to Soldier Boy this time. 😂
I was imagining the Break Me Down-verse for this one (shortly after Checkerboard), but it can also be general Soldier Boy x Reader.
Word Count: 650
Tags/Warnings: 18+ only to be safe. Fluff, innuendo, Sleepy Ben, implied smut.
You traced down his back with light, trailing fingers.
Lying next to him in bed, with scraps of moonlight filtering through the closed blinds in the window as your only guide, your mind was still drifting even though you should’ve been sleeping.
You couldn’t help yourself.
You drew invisible patterns across his bare skin. Ben was warm, always warm, even though the AC was making the room almost frigid. You knew it was the ever-present radiator in his chest that made him your own personal heater.
You propped your head up better with an elbow on your pillow as you laid on your side. You then let your hand drift over every dip of muscle between his shoulders, every small freckle you knew just from memory, then down and down his spine.
You flirted with the idea of inching down the sheets, where his bare ass would greet you. From there, you supposed you'd decide what wandering direction your hand took next.
“If you don’t go to sleep,” his deep voice rumbled, “I’m gonna wake up and fuck you again.”
You bit your lip against a giggle, but you didn’t quite succeed.
“It sounds like you’re already awake,” you remarked.
Ben grumbled incoherently in response. He was tired, you knew. He’d just come back from a week-long mission with Butcher and Co. for Supe Affairs. Hence the long night you two spent catching up.
If you were honest, you were still tingling between your legs. Your thighs and ass were a little sore too. Likely they’d be sporting a few fingerprints tomorrow.
You didn't mind it so much though. You two now had a safe word for that kind of thing.
You smirked, sifting your fingers through his hair. It was getting long again. Maybe you’d trim it for him tomorrow, since you both had the weekend off.
Your hand meandered down the back of his neck, just to begin dragging your nails up and down the slope of his back.
“What does that feel like to you?” you asked curiously. You often wondered how much his invulnerability affected the way he felt things, especially the way you touched him.
“Like a tease,” he muttered.
You applied some more pressure with your nails. Not the way you’d scored his back about an hour ago, when he’d had his sinful mouth all over your body, but enough to be more than a tease. Enough that it would’ve left an angry, red trail on your own “fragile” human skin.
Still, you weren’t able to leave any marks on him. Just a faint whiteness of pressure against his skin that soon returned to normal when you moved your hand away.
“How about that?” you asked.
“Like you’re playing with fucking fire,” Ben said, though you heard the smirk in his voice. “Go to sleep.”
You smiled too.
“We'll pick this up in the morning,” he made sure to add, though he was already halfway back to slumber, from the sound of it.
“Oh, I’m sure,” you said, laughing lightly. You leaned over and pressed a soft kiss against his shoulder. “G’night, babe.”
“Mhmm,” he responded.
He groaned deep in his throat and turned over onto his back. Your smile remained as your body tensed in anticipation, but all he did was slide an arm under your waist and curl you towards him, trapping you against his chest. His hand splayed against your lower back, heavy and warm.
His lips brushed your hair away from your forehead and lingered there. He closed his eyes and let out a deep exhale. You did the same, relaxing against him. Your hand came to rest against the steady thrum of his heart.
Moments like this with him still managed to surprise you…but admittedly, less and less the longer you lived and shared together.
A girl could get used to it though.
AN: Lol should she have pressed her luck? Let me know what you think of this one! 😉💚
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Including the BMD tag list on this, since that's what my heart was imagining. 😂
You grabbed the gun from Ben's suit and placed it in your bag without even waiting for a response since you knew he wouldn't refuse you. “May I take this?” you said. “Just for safety issues.”
Ben joined the team to kill Homelander months ago, and because you two have been on missions together for so long, you two have kind of gotten to know one another. He frequently teased you, and most of the time he really got on your nerves. Another thing Butcher's wanted from you regarding Ben was to make sure you kept an eye on him while he was high or furious.
He sighed, “You are already in safe hands,” and then gave you a little push toward the car, where Butcher and the other members of the team were waiting. “You know that you are something different. Trying to protect yourself with a firearm in spite of the fact that you already have three supes with you, me included, who are the strongest and greatest.”
“After the job is completed, even the biggest dicks become smaller. I wonder if your gigantic ego will ever be smaller one day, Ben.”
“Not mine,” he winked at you in between his laughter before the two of you entered the car. “How on earth does a naive virgin speak like that? I must discipline your dirty mouth at some point.”
He pushed until you reached the other side of the seat, and you muttered, “Shut up.” Your face flushed. “You leave no space for me.”
“Do I look like your personal driver?” Butcher growled at Hughie to come in too, questioned in a disapproving tone. Then Butcher turned back to Hughie, who was sitting in the passenger seat, and said, “Where the fuck is your girlfriend?”
“She arrived earlier with the others. They were driven there by Frenchie already.”
“Will you shut up and drive?” Ben messed with your hair for a while while ignoring what you said that he was going to ruin it, saying to Butcher in an irritated manner.
“Good boy gone bad, huh?” Ben ignored you and filled the entire seat between your complaints. Butcher murmured, “Let's fucking have some fun there since we may not be finding any free time soon, Navy girlies.”
Luckily, Butcher managed to locate a club devoid of supes, but it was still massive and insane, complete with loud music. Hughie's gaze found Annie right away, and Butcher followed after him while he winked at the girl who was staring at him with a chuckle.
You gave Ben a drink and complained, “Do I have to babysit you?” Even though all of the girls were capturing his attention, he was undoubtedly hearing what you were saying.
He patted your head and said, "Babysit me?" with a look of astonishment. "Sweetheart, it's me who has been watching you for several months. After all, it's easy for you to get into trouble."
"Me?" As he messed with your hair, you giggled and attempted to push his hands away. "You're always on the verge of being furious for no reason at all, and I have to keep your ego boosted when you are about to lose it."
"Or maybe I act it this way to get you even more anxious; what do you think? Your human face looks so funny when you're trying to calm me," he smirked and remarked with arrogance.
Punching him in the chest, you said, "You're impossible," although your wrist ached. You sighed in agony, "Fuck, Ben," and made sure everything was okay by looking at your hand. Thankfully, there were no physical wounds.
"Why the fuck have you tried to punch me now? Haven't you still learned I'm built to last?" he complained, gently massaging your hands.
You muttered, "You're so annoying," while he sighed and released your hands. "I can't imagine why almost nobody likes you."
"All you do this evening is talk rudely with that lovely mouth of yours and spit poison. Also, you are to blame. How many times do I have to tell you not to try to punch me? Wish to adopt a tough-ass persona? You're just a little sensitive, soft doll," he continued to tease, causing you to flush with rage.
"Remember the day I gave myself a Temp-V injection? When I really punched you, you seemed rather surprised, and I'm sure it hurt."
“I didn't think being a temporary Supe could happen, and that was a while ago.” Ben continued to smirk and replied, “Keep that in mind. I was merely trying to comprehend the change in your scent when you unexpectedly struck me and pushed me against the wall. You know, I should have been doing that. Of course, I'm not referring to the punching; rather, I'm speaking to the second one, but more gently.”
Ben flirted with you, giving you a tiny pinch on the chin and a wink. He was perhaps the most flirtatious man ever, but the reason he acted this way was that you told him you were a virgin, and even when he understood you were becoming too shy and a little anxious, he continued to tease you verbally. You didn't feel uncomfortable about it, though.
“Whatever.” You rushed to end it, fearing he would start talking even more profanely. You tried to silence him by putting your palm over his mouth. “When are you going to shave this beard? It's really lengthy.”
He murmured, “I thought you liked it longer and thicker,” as he combed his facial hair.
This time, instead of being annoyed, you giggled. “You're impossible.”
You said, “I'm going to check on Annie and others,” feeling a little guilty for something you didn't even understand when you saw him searching for women who fit his tastes. “So that you can have your fun.”
Ben, who had just bought a drink for himself, approached a redhead who had been staring at him passionately ever since he entered the bar. You led the way to join Annie and the rest of the team, but you were carrying a heavy weight that you couldn't quite explain. You did your best to ignore the stupid ache in your heart and laugh out loud at Butcher's half-made-up stories. It was a rare, heartfelt moment of calm after months, shared by all of you as you briefly watched the redhead woman take Ben's head and lead him to the second floor.
Ben's social batteries ran out after a few hours, and when he got into a fight with Butcher, you volunteered to take him home in your car because you were starting to have headaches too. Annie and Kimiko were dancing in the center; it appeared like they were just getting started. Either their heightened enthusiasm was to blame, or you simply didn't feel like having fun at that particular time. Ben was the source of your annoyance because he preferred to spend his time in the club having fun with other women and left you kind of alone.
You just said, “I will drive Ben back; just stop arguing for once,” and snatched Butcher's keys. “I assume everyone will be arriving home late. It appears that Kimiko and Annie won't be calling it a night anytime soon.” After observing them for some time, they realized you were right. Kimiko was high as fuck.
Ben didn't have a shower in his own room, so he quickly took one in yours once you drove home. Surprisingly, he hasn't complained to Butcher about it in any manner, and you've allowed him to use yours anytime he needs to, even if he occasionally takes a shower a bit too frequently, leading you to believe that he does it on purpose to irritate and enrage you so that you two can argue. But no matter what, his unique word choice never failed to make you chuckle.
As he was taking care of himself in the bathroom, you considered something you had long since ignored: your virginity. You could never go one step beyond, not even if you were in your mid-20s. You just didn't want it to be just one fleeting, pointless act, and you didn't feel anything at all. Perhaps you were a shamefully traditional person who was eagerly awaiting the realization of your real fate.
Ben used to make jokes about your virginity, which you didn't mind, but tonight it kind of got under your skin and made you feel uneasy, like there was something wrong with you. It just didn't seem right at all to be a virgin in your mid-twenties.
“You appear to be lost in thoughts. What's consuming your mind so much?” Ben queried.
His long beard and damp hair were pouring over the floor as he emerged from the bathroom, his thick, muscular belly wrapped in a towel. Your eyebrows are raised between your sighs. Though you always knew he was extremely attractive, he seemed even more so at this moment.
Ben glanced at your short dress too, seeing that you were staring at him as your lips parted slightly in a hint of yearning. He smirked, conceited, seeing your legs pushed together.
“I think I can make a guess.” He walked over to sit on the bed next to you and mumbled.
You hesitantly said, “I was thinking something,” not quite sure what to say exactly.
“About?”
You abruptly asked, trying not to flush too much as you moved the bed and fully turned your body to face him. “Would you take my virginity?”
Ben exclaimed, “What?” with his lips parted in wonder as he tried to understand what you meant and raised an eyebrow.
“You already heard me.”
Ben laughed and ignored your request, saying, “Are you drunk or do you need to jerk off? You're going to be a good nun when you grow up.”
“I'm serious here,” you said, blushing red from embarrassment and rage at the fact that the fact that he didn't take you seriously at all.
Ben's mocking expression changed to one of confusion as he realized you were serious. “I thought you were waiting for the love of your life or something. Why did you change your mind all of a sudden?”
“I wasn't waiting for someone,” you denied right away. “I decided being like this bothers me, and I want to change it.”
You continued, “We have known each other for months, and I think we kind of formed a good friendship during this time,” before he said anything, you added, “It must be okay to ask your friend for help, and it's better than to be with a total stranger, right?”
“I'm not the right person to share something like that.” Ben said in a serious tone, “I don't know why you made this decision so quickly, but you'll regret it tomorrow, I promise. If you are horny, I can give fingerfuck you, though.” It was clear that he was not hearing you clearly.
“It's not really that significant, is it? I didn't wait for someone right away, as I had said. If I knew I would regret saying it, I wouldn't have said it in the first place. What's the purpose of friends?”
Hesitantly, you reached out to touch his damp arms to gauge his reaction while also conveying your concern. You felt your small confidence begin to fade as you noticed he was staring at you with the same expression, so you brought your hands back to yourself. “Well, of course I won't try to convince you to take my virginity if you don't want to get into such an intimate interaction with me,” you said, trying not to seem offended or disappointed. “It's a different issue.”
Your heart raced under your thin dress as you anxiously awaited his response.
“I would fuck you with pleasure; it's not that I don't want it,” he added, examining your bare legs and breasts as they rose and fell in time with your heavy breaths. He whispered, placing his rough palms on your chin. “But I can't promise it won't hurt, and I don't want it to be just a one-time thing.”
You muttered, “I know it's going to hurt,” and at last he relaxed and seemed to agree.
He smirked and continued, “I'll fuck your cunt whenever I want,” staring right into your eyes and making you tremble at the sensation. “You'll spread your legs for me and beg me to fuck you.”
“It's better,” you said as his hand lowered to your throat, causing you to become even more thrilled. You chuckled awkwardly and murmured, “Practice makes perfect, right?”
Your lips parted in ecstasy as his thumb massaged your hardened nipple, and he gently pinched it between his fingers through your dress. He didn't even slightly break eye contact with you, as if he wanted to watch every move you made.
Ben mumbled, “I wonder if you're dripping under there already,” as he climbed on top of you. Feeling uncertain about what action to take, you placed your quivering hands on his large chest.
His palm stroked your pussy through your underpants, and you clenched around nothing, murmuring, “I feel like it.” You were already embarrassingly drenched; you knew that.
“Ben,” you murmured quickly, and his hand instantly froze there. He stared at you, confused, not knowing if you wanted to stop or not. You grabbed his wrist and stopped him just as he was about to return his hand to himself. “Can you do the entire job for tonight” you said in a hesitant manner. “I have absolutely no idea what to do.”
Ben surprised you with a kiss on the forehead and said, “Of course I'll do the entire job. You just lay down and relax. I'm going to take care of you well, okay?”
You nodded quickly, trusting that Ben knew what to do when he started to rub your pussy through your underwear again. Your hips rose higher to meet his movements as he played with your clit with a gentle thumb. “Let's get rid of your dress, huh?” he said, helping you to remove it from your body. You were lying under him naked, except for your underwear.
You wanted to hide your body with your hands because you felt a little shy, but you forced yourself to look at him with courage because you wanted this to be good. Even if he was already erect under the towel, he ignored his own needs to give you the pleasure you needed first.
Then he pinched your nipples once more and added, “You have such lovely tits.” Before you could respond, he put his warm lips on one of your tits and started sucking, giving you very light bites. You were a little scared that he could harm you because you had a big power imbalance since he was a supe, but you chose to put your trust in him because you knew he had experience having intercourse with normal people just like you.
As he continued licking both of your nipples, you placed your hands behind his hair and pulled. You pushed his head to your tit as you raised your hip to match his movement, but you moaned loudly when he ripped off your panties and inserted one of his meaty fingers inside of you slowly, even though you were trying really hard not to scream. It was difficult to take even one finger, so tears welled up in your eyes, but you didn't want to ruin the moment.
Groaning, “Fuck, you are tighter than I expected,” he lifted his head.
When he noticed your pained expression, he began to gently massage your clit with his thumb once again. Thankfully, this helped you feel better, and after a while, you began to slowly tighten around his finger.
He asked in a rough voice, “Do you like me fingering you?” and continued to push his finger in and out. “Your pussy is so adorable and swollen. You so desperately need me to fuck you raw.”
He commanded, “Tell me it's just for me,” tensing up his motions as you continued to tighten around his finger.
You said, “Just for you,” and he attempted to press another finger, but you were simply too tense to take it. You said, “Ben, be slow,” in a panic.
“In order for you to take me easier, we need to properly prepare your little pussy. Now spread your legs and don't cover that adorable cunt,” he gave another command. It was then that you realized you were attempting to press your legs together.
You spread your legs so he could see you as per the directions he gave. You let out a loud cry of pleasure and agony as he carefully inserted another finger. Ben swallowed your groans and stretched you with two fingers, his warm lips meeting yours in a passionate kiss.
You were moaning inside his mouth while his tongue and fingers dominated you. Ben felt your wetness on his fingers, your hips rising to match his rhythm, and he felt like he might come without even touching himself.
With a harsh voice, he commanded, “Cum on my fingers,” and proceeded to fuck you while your walls tensed up. With a loud moan and his name between your lips, you nailed his biceps while he watched you orgasm under his touch. “Good girl. You are so easy to make cum. Fuck, you're a needy one.”
You continued orgasming and wetting them while Ben held your fingers within. Even though your pussy felt extremely sensitive, he continued to finger you without giving you a minute's break after your climax had passed.
“Ben, it feels sensitive.”
“Fucking take it,” he growled. “You'll come as much as I want you to.”
You muttered, “I don't think I can,” as your legs continued to shake uncontrollably.
“You can and you will,” Ben responded, and he proceeded to fuck you even more forcefully than before.
The bedroom was filled with obscene noises, and your eyes welled up with tears of pleasure.
“Cum to me,” he commanded again, and you instantly clenched around his fingers. Putting your hands over his head, you kissed him, pressing your lips to his in an attempt to stop your moans.
As you orgasmed, you sensed him grinning slightly against your lips throughout the kiss. He whispered, “You're so fucking tight, you're almost going to lock me inside your pussy,” as you calmed down after your climax subsided. “I guess you're ready now.”
Your eyes widened with fear and dread as he removed the towel from his belly and threw it to the ground, revealing his firm cock. Ben began to give himself brief strokes while spreading your legs apart. Aware of your discomfort, he smiled slightly at you. “I'll do my best to be gentle. You're enough soaked already.”
You nodded to him, waiting tensely as you watched him pump himself between his rough hands. You tensed up abruptly as the tip of his cock touched your entrance, and he took himself in hand after giving it enough strokes.
He said, “Relax,” and kept pushing the tip inside. “Fuck, take it already.”
You attempted to let him in, your legs trembling with desire and dread, but you couldn't stop clenching.
You whimpered, your eyes welling with tears, as he thrust his cock inside with a forceful move. You also pulled his hair around his neck. Your hips were being held in place by his hands, preventing you from moving them. You were certain that it would bruise badly.
You cried out in fear, “Ben,” as he persisted in pushing. Tears fell from the corner of your eyes onto the covers when you were nailing his arms.
He groaned, “Calm down,” and gave you some time to relax. “It's just the head.”
“Sorry,” you said, ashamed that you weren't able to bear pain and adding unnecessary difficulty to the procedure.
His eyes widened at the sight of your face, and he planted a gentle kiss on your forehead. He whispered, “Hey, it's okay. You take me so good, so warm,” in between kisses and proceeded to place his cock inside of you once more. You knew it was a major step for you when you felt like he broke your hymen. This time, his hands gently remained on your hips as he sensed a change in your feelings.
Thank goodness, you relaxed between his kisses and compliments, and your wetness allowed him to enter at last. Ben gave you time to get used to his size after his cock completely filled your insides.
After planting another hard kiss on your lips, he asked, “Are you okay now?” and stroked your cheeks.
You responded, “I'm okay,” as the agony lessened and you began to get pleasure from his cock pulsing inside of you.
Ben put his hands on the sheets, and as he started to move slowly inside of you, you locked your legs around his hip.
He groaned, “You're so tight around me,” as he began to move faster. “I should have fucked you sooner.”
He gave you quick kisses, and his bushy beard tickled your chin as he began to fuck you quickly and roughly. “I'll turn this little cunt addicted to my cock.”
As you continued to moan beneath him, he gave another order: “Tell me you want me to fuck you hard.”
You murmured, “Please,” and he slowed down.
Ben wrapped his hand around your neck and said, “Beg me properly,” but he wasn't using force against you.
You sighed, “Fuck me hard, please, Ben.” You moaned as you saw his mucsles stretching as he continued to penetrate you quickly and roughly. Your hands nailed his chest and broad abdomen.
He put your legs on his shoulders and stated, “I'm going to fuck you every day; make you my little cumslut. Do you enjoy having your friend fuck you? Does this turn you on?”
When he kept talking filth, you couldn’t stop clenching around his cock.
He moaned, “Fuck,” in between hard strokes. “Look at this pussy clench. You really get turned on by it.”
Ben intensified his movements as your legs trembled with pleasure around his hips, and you felt your climax strike with a loud moan and a cunning sneer on his face. You tried biting your lip to muffle the moans, but it was difficult as Ben fucked you raw, on top of you, dominating your whole body.
He whispered, “I'm going to fuck your face another time,” and put his thumb inside your mouth. “Suck it. Prove to me how much you crave my cock inside your mouth.”
You groaned in displeasure as he slowed. Ben strictly said, “Suck it, show me how badly you want my cock inside your mouth, and I'll fuck you as you need,” when you lifted your hips to get him to return to his previous rhythm.
With the expectation that he would like it, you put your lips around his thumb and started to lick it with your tongue.
He mumbled, “Fuck yes, gonna cum inside that mouth,” and started fucking you quickly and roughly once more.
He muttered, “Almost there,” and continued to fuck you while staring at your bouncing tits.
His hardness continued to throb inside of you as you tightened around him one more time and orgasmed. He moaned and spilled inside of you, filling you with his thick and warm ropes.
Ben continued to fill your pussy as your climax subsided. You felt incredibly satisfied because you felt so full of his seed.
When he was finished, he carefully pulled out his cock, exposing the blood at the tip. Ben gave you a long, hard kiss on the lips when he noticed you were staring at it.
You offered him a tiny smile as he whispered, “Come closer,” and he embraced you with his large arms. “Are you alright?”
You continued to stroke his beard while responding, “Yes.” Actually, you've never felt better.
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A/N: Maybe I was drunk writing this one shot story. Comments and reblogs are very appreciated. <3
summary: the not-so-innocent things that go on in noir’s head abt you during The Seven meetings (wc: 1.8k)
warnings: MDNI, dub-con, rough p in v, doggy style, primal play themes, size kink, gagging, sobbing, corruption kink, Homelander being a weirdo at the end… just a lil’
first fic on this blog and I lowkey hate it- ughhh sorry if it’s all over the place!
The morning sun cast its golden glow upon the Manhattan skyline as The Seven assembled in their meeting room.
Homelander paced before them, detailing some new initiative he had conceived, but his words rang as emptily as the void behind his eyes. The Deep hung on his every syllable, eager as ever to prove his ass-kissing self with poorly-timed quips. This earned him nothing but a withering side-eye.
A-Train and Maeve listened with feigned interest, checking out of the conversation all but in body. Noir sat apart, idly fidgeting with a pen as his mind wandered. But his attention was drawn not to the usual faces, for there was a new supe among them—you, the latest fresh-faced recruit to their team.
On the surface, you appeared the absolute picture of attention—eyes forward, laser focused on Homelander as he tiresomely outlined the team's objectives.
It was cute, really, how focused the newbies always strived to be. Yet beneath the facade, you were actually anything but so, not when you felt an unseen gaze assessing you, weighing you.
Flicking your eyes discreetly aside, you confirmed a suspicion you could smell from miles away: Noir watching from across the table, his expression shrouded as ever behind the visor of his helmet.
Ugh, talk about creepy.
A subtle flutter of your eyelids shifted your line of sight, choosing to trust that his thousand-yard stare just so casually happen to drift your way and not an attempt to burn his gaze into your very soul.
Besides, what else could the guy possibly think about? Training, orders from Vought, simple pastimes—usually, such painfully mundane, run-of-the-mill thoughts occupied him.
But little did you know in this moment, as he studied your presence from afar, his mental reflections took a turn less… innocent.
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“N-Noir… mmph-… please…”
It wasn’t his doing, he didn’t ask to be plagued with this sickly obsession; but every time he heard your voice, it was as if sweet, smooth-spun sugar had come alive.
An alien lust scorched Noir’s consciousness, catapulting his fevered mind into unfamiliar territory. Try as he might, he couldn’t shake the sinful thoughts that stubbornly stuck to him like glue. Just the mere notion of ever being responsible for those pretty little sounds was enough for arousal to creep through his veins like a nasty virus, sapping what was left of his crumbling self-control.
Your every whine, your every moan, would be a siren's call that beckoned him to claim you, to strip away your composure until you were utterly, helplessly his. All he craved was to watch the light in your eyes dwindle, to witness your breaths dampening into shallow puffs of air that blanketed your gaze in a veil of fog, gradually muffling you into a stillness even quieter than he was.
And truthfully, it wasn’t a matter of whether you liked it or not.
Noir would ensure his touch left no room for refusal, his grasp iron-hard as he positioned your trembling, naked body on the floor to his liking—face pinned down, ass arched up, just as it should be. Yet even as he held you fast with a palm braced against your sweat-slicked spine, his other hand moved with a surprising tenderness, gently teasing loose and brushing apart the knotted strands of hair clung to your ruddied features.
He imagined the merest of touches would set your blood aflame, rumbling up a ripe groan from your core. “…Oh m-my god… fuck…” words fled your mouth on airless breaths, nearly inaudible but still enough for him to catch. In response, he’d slowly lift a finger to your glistening lips, accompanied by a soundless ‘shh’—a signal for you to behave.
After all, good girls should never cuss.
Large, strong hands would then greedily paw at the lush fat of your ass cheeks, the scratchy textured fabric of his gloves leaving blooms of red across your flesh. Spreading you open, he’d admire the way your juicy, moist folds parted slightly, the aching emptiness within your entrance eliciting an involuntary clenching—your muted moans, trapped in your throat, acting as a wordless plea for more of his touch, more of him.
He liked to think you’d be mere putty in his hands, before he was even close to fucking you.
Noir would take his sweet time exploring you, his curiosity of the human form eclipsing the immediate need to quell a white-hot carnal desire every red-blooded man gets. He was good at rearranging people’s insides, literally, but what if he flipped the script in a much different way?
Experimentally, he’d run the very tip of his gloved finger along the weeping slit of your sex, ghosting ever so lightly over your swollen, hypersensitive clit to collect your slick arousal. Then, without warning, he’d dip an entire digit into your quivering depths, reveling in the way your spongy muscles squeezed and welcomed him in.
Your breath would hitch at the intrusion, skin prickling with a visceral need as you eagerly shoved your rear back against his palm, craving more. However, just as swiftly, he would withdraw his hand, bringing it close to his face to observe it covered in your juices, inspecting how the slimy, milky-white essence connected a trail between his fingers.
Who knew light fondling and agonizing silence was all the foreplay you needed? (or at least, in Noir’s fanciful pornographic depictions of you)
Once done playing with his food, he’d drag his knees closer to your body, his hips flush against your ass, leaving your peripheral vision filled with nothing but his imposing, darkly-clad figure dwarfing your own. Without hesitation, he’d reach down to remove the codpiece off him, freeing his hefty cock which sprang forth in the air, where it stood rock-hard, veiny, and impossibly large.
Wrapping a hand around himself, the thickly-roped, buzzing veins were betrayed by each gritty pull of his glove, drawing a guttural grunt from behind his balaclava. He’d guide his erection between your warm folds, the engorged ridge of his tip prodding against your bundle of nerves, sending electric jolts of pleasure to crackle through your core, before he began to sheathe himself inside you with a push that drove him home.
With a grip possessive and firm around your waist, Noir quickly fell into a steady, almost robotic rhythm of sturdy pushes and pulls. Each punishing collision of your bodies was answered by the lewd, rapid sounds of skin-on-skin, making damn sure you felt every single inch of him as he rutted into you like a man possessed.
He’d only hope to see you struggle taking him all in, envisioning how the sheer scale of his size forced the very air out from your gasping lungs.
“P-Please Noir!… ngh-… my body can’t handle this much,” your once-lovely voice now ragged and frail, scraping sobs grinding your vocal cords near silence as you churned and coiled like a fawn caught in the clutches of a big, bad wolf. “Be gentle, I’m begging you!—-” You choked out weakly, bordering on a soft, pitiful whine.
Expectantly, a weighted silence followed suit from Noir. In his typical, unsparing fashion, he slipped a glove from his hand, jamming it into your mouth and effectively gagging you into silence, as if to say—pipe down, be a good girl, and take my cock like you’re supposed to.
Even without a single word uttered by him, it worked like absolute fucking magic.
Your torso would practically collapse under the onslaught, wobbly limbs giving way as you let Noir use your arched up, offering form like a personal fleshlight. His hips would retract further back in an excruciating slowness, simply marveling at your wetness coating the base of his member like a second skin, only to slam back into you with raw vigor.
Your tight, gummy walls would be offered absolutely no time to adjust to the relentless invasion of his girth, the sheer thickness of his cock forcefully stretching out your cunt to shape him, to the point it felt like he was trying to split you into two.
He’d yank your flexing thighs back to meet his brutal series of thrusts, burying himself into you to the very tilt as the fleshy head of his cock kissed your cervix, igniting a searing white bolt of static to lance through your vision, momentarily fracturing it.
The all-consuming, dizzying sensation hit you like a ton of bricks, toppling your senses and wrenching a strangled sob out from your slack jaw once more. This earned you another biting touch from Noir’s thumbs pressed into your sides, as if seeking to wring every gasp out of your chest, to hear your moans rattle through your ribcage.
However even your rawest cries were swiftly muffled, swallowed by the balled-up glove shoved roughly between your teeth, which reduced you to nothing more than a gagging, pleasure-drunk whore for him to claim.
─────────────────
Meanwhile…
“Welp, that about covers it for today,” Homelander announced with a thunderous clap, loud enough for it to ring through Noir’s ears and bring him back to the present.
Slowly, Noir spun his head back towards Homelander, who had just finished addressing the team while his own thoughts drifted to places where even the pearly gates of heaven wouldn't give him the time of day.
“Now shoo- and no more sloppy behavior. I’ll be keeping an eye on each and every one of you.” Homelander dismissed them with a casual wave and a chuckle laced with another one of his thinly veiled threats.
As everyone, including little-miss-oblivious-you, got up to leave the meeting room, Homelander sauntered over to Noir, heartily slapping a heavy hand onto his back. “Earth to Noir! I know that look—thoughts a million miles away behind that sphinx-like mask of yours,” giving a sly little shrug, he slanted a meaningful look towards Noir’s codpiece. “But methinks, someone here isn’t as impenetrable as I thought…” A thin wry smile played his lips, a subtle hint at his x-ray vision allowing him to see a particular something-something of Noir’s that was currently just as hard as his body armor.
“It might do you good to line that suit with zinc. Wouldn't want any unwanted eyes peeking where they shouldn’t, do we?" An amused exhale, part sigh part snicker, slipped out of Homelander as his gaze swept over Noir once more.
True to form, all he received in turn was Noir’s standard muteness, as soundless as a grave.
Homelander eased the quiet with a huffed laugh, rocking back on his heels as he tilted his head in playful study of Noir. "But don't worry," he added with a knowing smirk, "it happens to the best of us. But do try to keep your head in the game! And not with your other one, ‘kay buddy?” Homelander jested in mock-reproach as he landed one last waggish, firm slap between Noir's shoulders, flashing his gleaming white yet eerily pointed grin.
Noir remained statue still, no hint of feeling betrayed by his rigid posture despite the toe-curling awkwardness of the encounter, or perhaps he'd yet to fully realize Homelander had peered within and seen his aching, raging hard-on behind the suit's facade.
Noir silently watched Homelander shoot two playful finger guns, his cape swirled shut behind him before leaving the room.
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Pssst- Likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated in this household and keep me motivated! <3
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Apologies if there are any grammatical errors here, cuz I’m alr so done with this fic 😭😭😭
i recently watched You, the hit netflix series and got inspired to write whatever the fuck this is. So I hope you enjoy ittttttt (i'm losing my mind :3) sorry that it isn't platonic/familial but i just needed to write something, and here it is :33
"Joe, what the fuck is happening."
Given the situation, you were pretty calm for the most part. You weren't hysterically crying, banging on the clear walls begging him to let you out. Unlike Beck or all the other victims he had in your position. Maybe you were different.
Joe. Joe fucking Goldberg. You knew there was something off about him, since he moved into the apartment next to you. You were internally panicking, any sane person could see this hurtling at them from a mile away.
You were glaring daggers at the man as he walked around, his demeanor was one of pity. Pity. That was laughable. You wanted to fucking murder him, how dare he act like that when he was the one caging you.
"Joe you fucking creep!" Alright there it is, the first step when it came to people who were kidnapped. Panic.
He saw as you went up against the clear wall and start banging on it, you were scared. Terrified even, but you shouldn't be because he was doing this to protect you.
"Please-" You took a breath to calm yourself, you could feel yourself about to break down but you didn't want to seem weak. But your trembling lips, your shaky breath were an obvious giveaway.
"Please Joe, I swear I won't tell anyone." You shook your head, tearing up. "I-I don't know what I did and I'm sorry-"
"No- no, no, no you're not in trouble, I would never hurt you."
"Then let me go, Joe please!" You plead, your throat is raw from crying and yelling. This brought back memories from when Beck was in the same position as you were, the same hysteria and the same panic.
The tears, the screaming. It was all the same. You were gonna calm down. Hopefully you won't try and do what Beck did. His feeble attempts of trying to calm you down from outside of the cage he had placed you in did little to nothing.
"I'm sorry, Y/n I-I just did what I thought was right."
"This. This isn't- Right Joe please, please." You slid down and sat on the ground. This was a new low. Joe looked at you as you cried, plead with him to let you out. He crouched down as well, watching as you start to break down.
"You were suffering. I saved you, can't you see? I am keeping you safe, you don't have to worry about anything anymore."
"I never needed saving! I was fine- fuck..." You turned around, leaning your back against the wall. Looking up at the ceiling, you regretted ever bumping into this man.
It was a play by play of Beck. Your claims of not needing a saviour was synonymous to hers, but another similarity you had with her was that you did need his help. After observing you and how you lived you were practically begging for his help.
Your suffering hurt him as well. You needed his help and he was happy to provide it. But you caught on after a while. You started to seperate yourself from him, you avoided him
Avoid him? How could you? After all he's done for you? The people he has murdered to save you, to make you happier. It couldn't happen. There was no way he could just let you go, No. He needed you to stay alive.
He needed you.
--
this show grabbed me by the neck and pulled me from the depths of my writing slump, ik all of my content is surrounded around anime content but I hope yall could entertain something like this
also, one of the only romantic content that I have ever written (well, romantic-ish) so yay, we're evolving.
I won't stop writing platonic content but it's just getting harder to do so, not sure why don't ask im tweaking.
- joe’s happy you’re making friends in london, until he notices the way that stupid writer looks at you.
joe’s hand settles on your hip as soon as the door closes behind him. it’s become a habit since your early stages of relationship. he simply follows as you say your hellos and press your cheek against other girls’ faces with loud kissing noises.
from what you told him, he wasn’t really interested in meeting your friends, if anything he thought of them as one of the many reasons he clung to you a little bit tighter every morning
“y/n, you made it!” joe watches as a peppy blonde throws her arm over your shoulder, not minding how the two of you were almost tangled together.
“hi! phoebe, this is my husband, joe” the blonde brightens up (something joe thought impossible) when you present him. he only nods with a small smile and shakes her hand, despite her attempts of hugging him.
she smiles “come, come. i have to introduce someone to you”
his hand burns into your side, fragments of earlier and your poor attempt of a quickie still in your head as the two of you follow after your friend(ish) to a secluded bar. where a pale, almost your height man sat, swirling his shot of whiskey in its glass. joe recognized him immediately. it’s rhys montrose, the writer nadia had been talking to him about earlier.
“rhys! y/n, the girl i had been talking to you about and her husband joe”
“it’s my pleasure” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand. joe doesn’t miss the way his eyes roam you over, throwing the cleavage of your dress a longer stare, he watches you all over, probably imagining lewd scenarios only your husband was lucky to experience.
he wants to leave then and there, but he wants to give it a chance, for you. he can’t think of another reason as to why he would sit there and gulp through this guy’s staring and his always dismissed attempts at flirting with you.
he sees a perfect window when you excuse yourself from the group, something about the powder room, which you never get to, because along the way, he manages to sneak the two of you off to one of many guest rooms.
he knows you felt it too, the way rhyse was staring and making inappropriate jokes, undermining joe and your relationship, inviting you on many scenarios in which he wasn’t included, he doesn’t need anything other than his rough lips and kisses to express what he’s feeling right now.
angry, jealous, possessive? those were just a few of the feelings coursing through him as he moans into your mouth, caving and letting your fingers tangle in his hair and steer him around like a puppy.
“please” your plead breaks him, you look so pretty like this, everytime, even if you were worse than him, kinkier, dirtier, he adored having you like this, under his frame, blushed, sweaty and with your chest racing as if you had just gone running.
“i don’t know doll, what exactly are you asking me for?” his nose nips at your cheek and so do his lips, pressing open mouthed kisses to your skin as he waits for an answer
“fuck me.” he groans when you whisper so sweetly. “please, i want you inside me”
“fucking hell” he struggles to pull away from you even slightly. “you just know i can’t resist when you ask me like that”
there’s some fumbling, but he manages to fish himself out of his pants, tucking your thin underwear to the side before he easily sinks inside you. the two of you make animalistic- guttural sounds at the feeling, and he can’t help when he says
“can’t believe that guy thinks he even has a chance” he chuckles against your jaw before nipping at it, and he just stares. at your furrowed brows, your parted lips. and he listens to your whiny noises and how needy you get for him, and he feels complete.
not as fulfilled as he feels though when he’s sure rhys has heard you, moaning his name over and over until you come.
“y/n?” there’s some incessant knocking, and a faux concerned man on the other side. “are you okay in there darling? you’ve been a while”
“y-yes. yes! im good rhys. i’ll be out in a minute, i think”
“is there anything i can do to help?” god, you wish you could see the two of you from afar. joe’s nibbling at your jaw and neck while your arms around his own keep you closer than ever, your fingers tangling in his hair as you clench your pussy around him. you can’t pretend you’re just touching up your makeup in there. you can care less if the man is waiting for a response, the way joe whispers against you both reassurance and degradations sends shocks of electricity to your poor and abused bundle of nerves.
“are you gonna come?” he chuckles “come on my dick baby, let him hear you. let him know he will never be inside you. that he will never make you feel this good. show him”
“fuck- joe. i’m so close, please”
“i know angel, i’ve got you.” almost on purpose, his hips slam deeper and faster, his thumb quickly presses back and forth on your clit and with his beard grazing against your neck it all becomes too much for you to take. and you’re soon shaking around him, biting his lip after a chain of profanities and his name that you hoped were masked by the music playing outside.
all of this, unaware of the encounter your husband was going to have just outside the door with the relentless writer who did in fact hear everything that just went down
Prompt: YN is close friends with Peach, Annika, Beck, and Lynn. She doesn't fit into their circle, nor does she try to. Joe soon sets his sights on YOU, leading to a domino effect within Y/N's life.
It had been some time since you last spoke with Peach and her willing and obedient entourage. You blissfully ignored them, avoiding the usual hangouts and skipping daily walks with your son. You took different routes and dined at other eateries, and for a while, you enjoyed this simple and slow-paced lifestyle.
It was a particularly warm day in New York; the increasing winds had died, allowing you to turn off the space heaters that litter your apartment. You relished the smell of cleaning products and baby formula rather than burning rubber. You watched as Rafi bounced around in his walker from his room back to the living room. His hand slapped against some trinket that sang a quick tune of “You are my sunshine.” It was probably his favorite plaything on that bouncer, but it annoyed the absolute hell out of you. The loud and high-pitched continuous loop of "you are my sunshine... my only sunshine", but he loved it, so you endure it. You cracked open the window, allowing the fresh air to filter into the apartment, the warm breeze washing over you briefly before returning to stillness. Contently, you sighed. Your eyes flickered to the door; a hesitant knock followed by two more confident knocks. You shuffled off the couch, unable to gaze through the peephole due to the grime built up over the years. You mentally noted that you need to tell the landlord about that. Unlocking your three deadbolts, you pressed your ear against the door, hearing the muffled female voices.
You opened the door and noticed Peach, Beck, Lynn, and Annika. Your eyes widened as you stumbled back, Peach charging into the apartment. Her eyes glanced around as she brightly smiled at Rafi before returning her cold gaze to you. She crosses her arms, waiting for you to fill the silence with an apology. The tension hung in the air like a heavy fog, palpable and suffocating everyone as they all watched you, their once easy rapport replaced by an uneasy silence. Every word left unsaid seemed to echo between them, filling the space with a sense of unease that was almost tangible. You chuckled before turning away, gathering some of Rafi’s items out of habit. “You don’t just go MIA for weeks like that!” Everyone slowly shifts into the apartment; you feel suffocated. “I called, you never answer.”
You plainly answered, “I know.” You shoved some clothes into the hamper before returning to the group. You tried to think of something to say and formulate something harsh and crude to say back to Peach and her brainless minions that followed her every call, jumping at the snap of her fingers and pleading for some sort of acceptance from her. You sighed, sitting on the sage-colored love seat, your elbows resting on your knees as you rubbed your temples gently. “Peach, you and your…whatever this is. Can happily get the fuck out of my apartment. You can’t just storm into my home and expect me to drop to my knees begging for you to what…forgive me?”
You felt the couch dip next to you, the smell of her engulfing you. It iterated the fuck out of you yet offered you a warm feeling. She was home; despite her manipulation, gas-lighting, and bitch behavior, she was home. You finally looked at her, your face growing warm as you pressed your lips together. Her smile growing as she knew, she squealed, wrapping her arms around you. “Say you forgive us… me?” You nodded against her before pulling back. “Great, let’s go out to eat! We’ve missed you and have lots to catch you up on!”
You nodded, pressing a feigned smile on her lips; Annika smiled, wrapping you in a brief, one-armed hug. She was followed by Lyn, who seemed more than pleased that you had returned. They moved away, gawking at Rafi as they spoke with him in an annoying, high-pitched tone. They were flashing toys in front of him before snatching them quickly as he giggled loudly. You stood beside Beck; an awkward silence washed over you both. Beck wanted to speak… she wanted to ask if what Peach had been filling in her head was true. Suppose you had been trying to pine after Joe; how would she feel? She admitted her feelings for Joe were growing; she liked having him around and the attention he provided her when Benji was off on a binge of whatever drug would provide him with whatever relief. “We missed you… I missed you,” Beck spoke, cutting through the silence.
“I’m sorry,” You mumbled, bumping into her shoulder and offering her a half smile. She tucked a small piece of hair behind her ear.
“I’ve been dying to tell you about everything, I mean everything,” Beck whispers through her laugh as she watches you for a moment. Beck confided you about everything; you weren’t judgmental and never gave advice—you were just a lending ear that she craved in the whirlpool that was Peach. You sighed, knowing that no matter where you were in your life and how far you thought you had escaped Peach, she was always lurking in the shadows, ready to devour you at any minute.
You hummed softly, your hand occasionally, moving the visor back to check to see if your son was still alive. Your hand fluttered in front of his face; quickly, he reached for your fingers. You had spent most of the morning shopping for groceries and wanting to find some fresh produce. You gathered green apples, strawberries, and some blueberries. It has been a slow-paced morning; class was canceled, you were finally caught up on your assignments, and only needed to grade some papers from some of your classes. You hadn’t seen Peach since your lunch date with the girls two weeks ago. It was spent, for the most part, talking about Beck’s choices in men and the plethora of men that have taken her to bed… all this steaming from Benji ghosting her. You didn’t know what she saw in him, but he was a poser and couldn’t hold down an idea, let alone his own business. She had fucked, Mr. Bedroom Eyes, someone that she had met in the library, all while leading on Joe and worrying about Benji.
Your eyes shifted slightly; noticing him underneath the navy-blue baseball cap, he examined the fruit before placing it down. You smiled brightly, peering left and right before approaching him. You stuttered for a moment; wait is it weird that you were approaching him? Did you even need to say hello? You stood behind him, mindlessly watching his gaze at the fruit. Weaving through the throngs of people as your eyes held steady on him, your hands tightening against the stroller. Panic surged through you, threatening to overwhelm my senses as your hands hesitantly reach out to his shoulder. Joe jumped as he spun around; a toothy grin fell on his lips as his eyes shifted to Rafi. “Sorry, this must be weird.” You quickly tried to explain, and yet there you stood.
“No!” Joe smiled, “No weird at all.” He watched you, taking in your beauty from the curve of your lips to the furrow of your brows. Your eyes are a soft color, filled with so much emotion. He contained his excitement, continuing to handle the slightly ripe peach in his hand. A soft breath of relief escaped your lips; Joe watched you, taking in every moment, from the twitch of your eye when you smiled to the slight tightening of your hands against the stroller’s handle. Were you nervous? You didn’t need to be! I am all yours! Joe’s thoughts muddled aggressively through his head, his eyes concentrating more on your slight movements, the way you shifted your weight to your left hip as you stood there, watching him. Your index finger nervously taps before stopping.
“Good, I thought it’d be weird if I recognized you in this crowded space,” you laughed; it was soft. A small smile crept on his face as he moved closer to you, a single step to be closer to you. You slightly shifted, leaning against the stroller as you pushed it in front of you before bringing it back. “It’s nice to see you again.” Your heart fluttered as you watched his goofy take hold of his lips. His cheeks dusted pink as he nodded hesitantly; he stepped forward, watching you walk away in the crowd, occasionally wiggling your fingers in front of your son’s view.
“Are you alone?” Joe mentally cringed as you paused, peering over your shoulder in confusion, “I meant, I could keep you company while you go shopping… If you don’t mind.” Do you mind? You wouldn’t mind, would you? Joe thought; he watched you ponder his offer, and you fully faced him as you smiled, nodding at him. Joe joined you, shoulders bumping into each other as you continued to walk through the farmer’s market. Looking at the different herbs and vegetation sprawled on the tables, you fingered at them, rubbing your fingers with a concentrated look on your face as Joe pushed Rafi. Joe watched you in awe, his hand gripping against the stroller in angst and yearning. He watched you tuck a piece of hair behind your ear; you quickly turned to him, putting a strong-smelling herb in his face. He winced as he swatted at his nose; you laughed softly before agreeing with the saleswoman that the left one was more pungent.
“My mom made this weird-tasting soup for me when I was sick, but it always helped. It helps when Rafi has a little bug. He hates it; he scratches at my arms when I force-feed it to him.” You laughed, showing him the small craters in her skin that hadn’t healed properly. Joe took your arm, letting his thumb trace over the craters. “He’s so mean when he wants to be; I guess he gets that from his dad.” Joe watched you, taking in every word that was said.
“His dad hit you?” You were stunned; you placed the herbs in your tote bag before looking at Rafi, making a slight face and tickling him. Joe observed you, your face tense as you seemingly tried to feign enjoyment in the brief time with your son. He watched how you weren’t standing so close to him; your shoulders still touched every again, but not the same as before. Joe cursed at himself for bringing it up; Joe hated that he made you feel so small and helpless again. You froze at the sound of your name; Joe noticed it, too. He peered over his shoulder seeing someone rush to you, his hand waving wildly as he began to jog to catch up to you. He called your name again. Joe’s eyes flickered at you, and you were frozen, eyes wide in fear. Joe leaned closer to you, but you were snapped out of thoughts when the man stood directly behind you. You slowly turned, now facing the stranger. Joe watched the man; something about was familiar, the curve of his lip and the bushiness of his brow. His hair was long and pulled into a rendition of a man-bun with some pieces falling in front of his face; he was clean-shaven and muscular. His skin was a deep cooper color that glistened but wasn’t sweat…more of an oil-based lotion.
“It’s been so long!” he smiled with a bright smile, teeth perfect and in a row, no obscurities or imperfection. He tried reaching out for a hug, but you backed away, letting a small smile rest on your lips. You didn’t say anything, but you didn’t have to for Joe to notice how uncomfortable you were. “Who’s this?” His eyes never left yours. Joe could see the intimidation in his eyes, and his smile never reached his eyes when he spoke.
Joe moved the stroller before him, stretching his hand in the process; a bright smile rested on his lips. “Joe.” The man didn’t acknowledge him or care for his name. Finally, he passed him a glance, his face churning into a distasteful look. His eyes moved to the stroller, and as a bright smile crossed his lips, he bent down for a moment. Wiggling at Rafi’s shoes, speaking in a babbled baby talk before looking up to you again.
“You know he misses you and him; you shouldn’t run away. Especially with his child.” The man spoke, and he stood to his feet. “See around.” He spoke before brushing past you. Joe grabbed your arm, and you winced momentarily, flinching away from him. Your eyes finally connected with Joe’s; you sucked in a deep breath before grabbing unto the stroller. A sense of comfort washed over you.
“Thanks for today… for this. I appreciate it,” you hummed. Joe nodded, watching you walk away; his eyes focused on the man who had ruined your perfect day together. It started innocently enough, stumbling into an impromptu game of hide-and-seek. Plunging into the maze of crowds, Joe found himself, trailing the stranger, drawn by the same curiosity that everyone in the market has. Joe shadowed his movements, picking up a weathered journal or a fruit that was slightly ripe. His eyes cut to the man every chance he had gotten. As Joe meanders through the maze of makeshift booths and colorful displays, the man he’s following remains blissfully unaware of his presence. They weave through the crowd, partaking in a dance that only Joe is aware of.
“Dom! Dom! Dom Batista! As I live and breathe in the flesh it is you!” Joe groaned at the dramatic nature of New Yorkians, every word that stumbles out of their mouth an illicit affair with Shakespeare and a Soap Opera. “It has been so long since we’ve last seen each other!”
Joe followed behind you, face low as he watched you hurriedly move through the streets, passing men and women alike.
Batista….Batista….Batista is the name of a Judge in New York City; their mother was an actress who starred in plenty of movies before her fall from grace and getting addicted to cocaine. They had three children, three boys: Jonathan, the oldest—who was a criminal defense attorney. He was married with two sons. He didn’t post on social media, but his wife, Mary Glassgo, came from an Affluent family in Virginia who had established wealth through “other means.” during the late 1700s, did, in fact, post and posted often. She was overly descriptive and pictured all the locations where they dined, shopped, and vacationed. She was on a trip with her two sons, enjoying the mountains in Vermont. The caption was, “Can’t get away from life all the time, but when I do, it’s always with my two favorite boys.” Joe followed you across the street, scrolling through her Instagram until he came across a photo from Thanksgiving; he dragged his thumb across the screen, revealing a picture of her and another man who looked similar to Jonathan, tagged was St_Do_Batista. Dominick, the middle— Joe, recgonized him as the man he saw today; he frequently posted almost every day at the gym. He was a professional boxer; his face wasn’t riddled with too many lacerations and scars, which indicated that he was good at his craft. He had a girlfriend, one of many girlfriends. They all came and gone, as soon as a new one would be posted with a bright smile, not knowing her fate. Petite blondes, curvy brunettes, tall red-heads, even some bald girls with tattoos riddling every surface of their bodies.
“Hello….” Joe thought; he scrutinized the photo, and you were smiling, your cheek pressed against him as you embraced him. He just won a fight; he hugged you tight. Joe scrolled to the following image… it was a video; he played it. You giggled as he spun, cheering as one hand held you tight against him. You spoke gently, words that the camera didn’t pick up, nor did anyone else. He continued to scroll as he noticed that most photos were of you cooking in his house, at the park with him, on his couch with the laptop tucked on your thighs as you carefully examined whatever was on the screen. You took up a majority of his life and then nothing. Joe saw a picture of him and another look similar to the Batista family; he clicked on the tagged name. RafiBat didn’t post much, but when he did, he generated a lot of attention from women. He was a boxer, too, and he and his brother were often referred to as the Basista Brothers. He didn’t post you often, once or twice; that was in photos with Dominick. But it was evident that you both were friends. He was attending a university known for its Marine Biology program. He had been traveling overseas, where he had been for the last few months, pictures of him with sharks, fish, turtles, and some other classmates. There was a picture of you, smiling brightly in his bed with her belly exposed; it was small, possibly in the early months of your pregnancy. His caption read “My Everything.”
Joe’s attention was averted to the left as he noticed someone briskly walking, eyes concentrated on you. His hand dug into his pocket as he pulled out his phone, dialing quickly. He spoke before hanging up. Did you not notice? Did you feel someone following you? Joe broke off in a sprint, laughing softly before calling out your name; you peered over your shoulder in confusion, hesitating as you squinted your eyes at him.
Joe’s body collided against yours, taking your hand as he smiled gently. “Why’d you run off like that? I was looking for you everywhere!” he calls out exaggeratedly loud, his hand falling at his side; he watched your wide eyes swiftly snap to him while he continued to guide you forward, Joe’s hand pressed on your lower back. “Someone has been following you,” he whispered through a gritted smile. Her body stiffened as his words echoed through the stillness in the air; you were tempted to look, her head inching to the left slightly. “No, don’t look… Just keep walking baby.” You hummed in understanding. Joe peered over his shoulder, watching the man avoiding the dim street lights, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his body focused ahead of him, but he could see the whites of his eyes and the darkness of his orbs staring deep into your side. Then Joe remembered the small encounter you had at Peach’s party, the drunken party-goer grabbing you, retelling his woes of missing their friend group and a man who seemed to miss you just as much. Your body reacted negatively, your eyes watering, and your skin paled as you stumbled away from him. Joe watched your hands dance against your face, trying to wipe the anxiety that was trailing through your body. Joe wanted to lead you home, protecting you from the evils lurking in the shadows you weren’t aware of. Joe allowed you to lead you both to your apartment complex. Joe swiftly grabbed Rafael, allowing you to close the stroller. You put in the code 76477; Joe held open the door as you shuffled in your hands, digging through your satchel in search of your keys. He noticed three locks; just as if you practiced this a hundred times, you easily unlocked the door.
Joe smelled deeply, taking in the scent of baby powder and your aroma. Rafael rested against his neck, his chest breathing gently as he slept. His tiny breaths could be heard as they smacked against his pacifier. Joe scanned your apartment again; it was vastly bigger than Beck’s and his. His eyes fell on an opening; it wasn’t too big but just big enough to have a window, an oak-colored crib decorated with white and green. “You can just set him down in there…He won’t last too long in the crib,” He heard your voice as you locked the front door. You were latching on the deadbolts and other self-brought knick-knacks. Joe set Rafi down, brushing his hair out his face; he squirmed slightly in a panic. Joe quickly turned on the mobile, slightly out of reach for Rafi. He pressed a button; the mobile began to hum to live, and soon, water sounds came on. Splashing, sounds of whales and dolphins, and what seems like rain hitting the waters. It was soothing, and Rafi’s face soon mellowed. Joe allowed Rafi to hold unto his finger; his grip was tight as his body sprawled on the crib’s mattress.
“He usually isn’t so peaceful to put down. He must like you.” He heard you whisper; Joe peered over his shoulder, watching your head pressed against the door’s frame. Joe removed his finger, returning his attention to you. You walked out of the room as Joe followed you. The silence washed over you as you paced around the room, trying to find the right words. Joe stood there, waiting, allowing you to take as much time as needed.
“Joe?” You finally whispered, your eyes finally landing on him. In that moment, Joe felt your souls tying together, latching and burning into each other. “Thank you.” you pushed out, tucking your bottom lip into your teeth.
“I noticed him following you after the market…I didn’t know what to do but when I saw him trying to cross the street… Who is he?”
“Dominick, my ex’s brother. Rafi’s father.” Joe nodded; you trusted him, you trusted him. You weren’t a liar like Beck, “Dom and I were close; I even thought we would be together, but then he got a girlfriend. He stopped coming around, that’s when I met Rafael, he was gentle at first…but I guess that was the point. I had a fling with him and then with his brother, shit just got messy fast, and I got pregnant. That’s when he got abusive… I tried pressing charges, but his dad always dropped the cases, saying that I was a daughter of a junky prostitute and a “john.” I asked for a different judge and each time I was denied. I was finally….finally allowed to get a restraining against him, but it expired, and I wasn’t allowed to renew due to no current impending dangers.” Joe watched you; he stepped close to you, grabbing your arms. You sighed, looking up at him.
“If you need anything, anything… I am here for you.” Joe whispers; you nod, folding your arms underneath each other.
Please ask me to say; please beg me to stay. Joe thought; he nodded as he moved away from the couch. “Joe, wait!” You stood up, “You don’t mind staying for the night, do you? I would feel comfortable with a man around the house… just for the night.” Your voice is soft, and Joe could tell you needed him. He couldn’t deny you. He peered over his shoulder and smiled.
The night progressed as you lay in the bed, shifting uncomfortably in the bed. Your eyes squeezing shut, trying to feign being asleep in hopes of tricking your mind into slumber.
“Joe, are you sleeping?” You called out into the darkness, “Joe?” You called out once more, panicked; you sat up quickly squinting through the darkness as you watched his chest slowly fall and rise. You sighed for a moment, shifting comfortably in the bed.
“Yes?”
Joe rises from the couch, groaning as he shuffles to you. He crawls into bed, and you open the covers, allowing him to slide in. His eyes were low from being awoken from his sleep, his hands tight as he observed you move closer to him. You craved his warmth; a sense of comfort and protection seeped through to you. Your eyes focused on Joe’s, watching through the stillness of the night and the slight light that the moon gave you. His hand gently reached out, tucking your hair behind your ear, holding onto the strand until he reached the end. He moved closer, pressing a kiss on your forehead. He held it, trying to compose himself. He didn’t want to push himself onto you; he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. He wasn’t going to be like your ex or your father. Joe pulled back, your eyes fluttering open hesitantly, and you moved closer to him. Your lips molded together, smacking in the silence as your slight hums vibrated into his mouth. He pulled away; you were vulnerable and seeking out comfort in him. He needed to wait to see if this feeling rang true. He wanted you more than you could know, more than he thought possible. He couldn’t take advantage of you like this, not right now… not ever. He cuffed your cheek, kissing your forehead before you, wishing you a good night.
Burning something evoked a wide range of emotions in Joe, a symbol of something new shifting in the atmosphere. The flicker of a match igniting, the scent of smoke swirling in the air, and the crackle of flames consuming the body— the overwhelming sensory experiences that engage him in the death of Benji. He stood over the growing flames, watching them dance against his body; Joe thought he would feel at ease. He couldn’t–his mind racing back to you and Rafi. Joe grew angry, feeling compelled to kill Benji; he was powerless against the woe of Beck, her smile and innocence being stripped away. It's as if his autonomy is being stripped away, leaving him feeling vulnerable and exposed. The heightened feelings of frustration and resentment began to grow through this loss of control.
He thought of you as he smelled the charred remains of Benji, your face dancing in the flames. He sighed, pushing his forearm against his brow. He quickly dialed you; he needed to hear your voice.
“Joey?” Joe heard you whisper, soothing all anxieties that rushed through him. His hand gripping the steering wheel. “Joey? Everything alright?” He hummed, letting his head rest against the steering wheel. It has been one month since he had forced his way into your apartment, leaving articles of clothing behind and coming up with any excuse to stay the night, not that you minded. He had a key to your apartment now, coming in the mornings and getting Rafi together for daycare as you prep for classes and graded papers. Your glasses hung off the bridge of your nose while you gnawed on the cap of the pen—your eyes shifting from the monitor to the paper as you scribbled some markings on it before moving on to the next. The way his lips danced against yours, his hands gently caressed your skin as your lips tangled.
“Yes, everything is alright.” He heard you shuffling, the covers shifting off your body. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”
“No, Joey, no, you didn’t. What’s wrong?” You could always read him; you would always tell. You didn’t even have to look at him to see that something was picking at him. He knew that you were good for him; you were everything that he needed you to be. Joe remained silent; the only that was heard was Rafi’s babbling. “Just come over and well talk, okay.”
“Okay.” Joe hung up and made his way to you, his head spinning from his recent murder. His fingers trembled as he pulled down your street, finding a parking spot adjacent to your apartment building. He moved out of the car. His key jingled in the locks swiftly; you swung open the door, watching in bewilderment. Worry drawn on your eyebrows and lips. “Joey, what is going on? Was it—”
“No…no, just Beck.” You nodded for a moment, allowing him to enter the apartment; slamming the door, you proceeded to deadbolt the locks. You stared at the final lock, trying to compose yourself; he wasn’t yours. You were just friends. Why did it hurt at the mention of her name at the thought of him being at her apartment, embracing her? “She just makes me insane, always having to watch her and look out for her. All the lies and the—” You picked up the clothes that scattered the floor, tossing them in Rafi’s dirty clothes hamper. Mindlessly, you grabbed the toys, tossing them in a bin as they interrupted his sentence.
“I see.” was all you could mumble out, your eyes flickering to him. He continued to ramble about how he didn’t trust her–how she was always so secretive around him. But that was Beck; the doe-like look in her eyes always masked the truth that crawled beneath the surface. She was manipulative; everything she did was calculated and meticulous. Her bold red lip contrasted against her pale skin, and her dress revealed just enough of her thigh to keep her professor yearning for more. The way she teased and poked at man’s most animalistic and primitive yearning, dangling it in front of their face before yanking it. You turned to face him, letting the hamper fall against the floor.
“I frankly don’t want to hear about Beck. I understand she’s your girlfriend or whatever she is but, I can’t take hearing about her. When you’re sitting in my apartment, helping me take care of my son… playing house with me. I don’t want to hear about Beck. I get enough of her when I am with them. Every issue that plagues her, I hear about, all the damn time. Benji, you, the Captian. I can’t–I just can’t do it.” You turn away, heated you move into the bathroom face burning with embarrassment and angry. Angrily you slapped at the knob, turning on the hot water on. It screeched for a moment before the hot water spit out.
As you step into the shower, the hot water cascades over your skin, offering a momentary reprieve from the turmoil. Droplets dance across your body, carrying away the remnants of anger and frustration that cling to you like a heavy cloak. With each passing second, the tension melts away, replaced by a soothing sensation of renewal. You close your eyes, allowing the water to envelop you completely, washing away the Beck and Joe's monologue that echoed in your mind. Steam fills the air, wrapping you in a comforting embrace as you stand beneath the gentle stream, letting it cleanse your body and soul. Slowly, the weight of the conversation begins to lift, replaced by a sense of clarity and calm. In this sanctuary of steam and solitude, you find solace. You sighed as the shower opened; you saw his feet planted in the shower and the sound of a soft sigh resting in the air. You feel his hands gliding against your waist, pulling you closer to him. His lips pecked your shoulder, sucking in the aroma that cascaded around him. “I’m sorry…I’m sorry. Do you forgive me?” His hand gently drummed your abdomen, his cock hardening against you as he pecked at you, his hands moving to your breast, kneading at them slowly, letting his fingers squeeze and tug at your nipples.
“Please, forgive me” he whispered; you couldn’t say no to him. So, you nodded, turning around fully to face him. Pressing a gently kiss against his lip, stepping out of the shower, grabbing the towel as you instantly moved to Rafi’s crib.
As the tears streamed down his Rafi’s flushed cheeks, Joe’s heart ached with empathy. With gentle hands, he lifted the sobbing child into his arms, cradling him against his chest, his hand rubbing circles against his back something that he noticed his mom and he liked. Leaning close, he murmured soothing words in a soft, reassuring tone, his voice a balm to the boy's distressed soul. With each gentle stroke of his hand and whispered promise, Joe felt the tension begin to melt away from his Rafi’s trembling form. He rocked him back and forth, a steady rhythm that mirrored the beating of his own heart, a silent vow to always be there to chase away the shadows and dry the tears. Joe moved back your bed, and you reached out your arms, allowing Rafi to settle into your chest and Joe to cuddle back into your side. Rafi was a crybaby and wanted you to hold him 25/8; you wanted to break him out of that habit. Joe and you had been working on getting him to sleep through the night in his crib, it would only last two nights out of the week before Joe caved and dragged himself to Rafi’s crib, engulfing him in his arms. You didn’t bother to correct him; you could tell that something was off with him. You two didn’t speak much after your moment the shower; you didn’t try to get him to speak either.
A heavy knock on the door had woken Joe; he hissed in frustration, moving the walker out of the way as he stumped his toe against it. He looked back, seeing Rafi whining for him, his arm stretched as he crawled closer to the edge of the bed. Joe scooped him up, snatching your phone and checking the time—7:37 AM. He grunted as he moved to unlock the deadbolts and finally the door. The door swung open, revealing Peach. Her eyes widened as she glanced at Joe; quickly, she shook her head, trying to find the right words to say but couldn’t. Peach observed him, eyes squinted in fury and confusion. “She’s sleeping Peach.”
She called out your name, moving into the living room, her eyes falling on you as you lay in bed. Her head snapped to Joe, realizing that he was in his boxers. “What the fuck! What did you do to her?” Peach asked as she tried to grab Rafi. Joe stiffed her and backed away as she continued to reach for your son.
Joe held Rafi tightly in his arms as Peach had her outstretched arms and a determined frown on her face. Ignoring Joe’s protective grip, Peach reached for the child, her fingers brushing against Joe’s before clasping around the little one's hand. Joe’s heart skipped a beat, a surge of protectiveness welling up within him. He pulled back, his hand resting against Rafi’s back as he watched Peach’s face morph, her eyes narrowing before he turned her attention to you.
“Peach? What–What are you doing?” You shifted from the covers, you were in a grey crewneck, a B printed in brown and outlined in red. Your hair messing tied away from your face as you squinted to fully focus on her.
“No! No—what are you doing?” She hisses, stomping towards you, your finger jabbing into the air as she throws her hands dramatically.
“Peach, he was just—I saw Dominick. Since then, he has been here for me. Nothing… Nothing else has been going on.” You shouted over her rambles. Something in her face changed; she slammed her mouth shut, looking at you, taking in your words. She grabbed the back of her arm, holding it tighter to her person. Joe noticed the slight change in her demeanor at the mention of Dominick; he scared her.
“Did you–” You quickly shook her hand, stretching out your hands for Rafi; Joe quickly moved to your side, sitting on the edge of the bed as Rafi crawled into your lap. Joe’s hands rested on top of yours; he pressed his lips against Rafi’s head before cuffing your chin. He rose to his feet. He grabbed his things, placing them on his clothes. He jiggled his phone before leaving out of your apartment, a silent single for you to call him when she leaves. “When did that happen?”
“Nothing happened. He just was here for me at the time and… I trust him.” Peach laughs, sitting on the bed.
“Trust him, absolutely not. You know he’s playing you just like he’s playing Beck!” You rolled your eyes, unsure of what to make of her accusations. I mean, they weren’t incorrect in their entirety. Joe had a fleeting romance with Beck and probably still does. “He’s using you. I lost Beck to him, and I am not going to lose you. In this stupid ideology where you think you need him! You don’t need him! I am here for you; call me if you are feeling scared; call me if you are feeling down!”
“I know” you mumbled, caressing Rafi. “I shouldn’t trust him” you confessed. “I really shouldn’t” a bitter laugh left your throat as you chocked on a sob that rose in your throat.
“He could be like Rafael! You are so blinded by love that you didn’t see it then, but I did, and now, I do.” Peach whispered, as she inched in Joe’s spot. Resting her head against your chest, her hands wrapping against your torso.
Joe stood outside the closed door, his fists clenched at his sides, he strained to hear the muffled voices from within. Anger simmered beneath his skin, fueled by the snippets of conversation that reached his ears. Each word felt like a dagger, piercing through the thin veneer of his composure. He could hear her strained voice, a mixture with a Peach’s voice—a voice that grated on his nerves like sandpaper. His jaw tightened, muscles coiling with tension as he fought the urge to burst through the door and confront the source of his jealousy head-on. The temptation to intervene, to demand answers, pulsed through him like a steady drumbeat, drowning out reason and restraint. With every passing moment, his anger mounted, a raging inferno threatening to consume him whole. Yet, for now, he remained on the other side of the door, a silent witness to his own unraveling emotions. Something needed to happen, Peach was always in the way, the intricate dance of relationships that she always blocked. Stepping on his toes and stealing you away from him. Tangling you in her grasp, the same spell that Beck was under. She was a figure looming in the background, casting a shadow over any potential romance that Joe worked so hard to grow and nourish. Her presence was like a shield, deflecting any attempts at romantic advancement with a casual remark or a well-timed interruption.
He needed to kill her; her undoing was all the fault of her own.
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