⏝꒷︶ ͡𑁬⁠ ✯ ໒ ͡ ︶꒷⏝

❀ spn, the boys, occasional other fandoms ❀ ❀ 18+, mdni & read at your own discretion !! ❀

[semiautosantigold]

ᡣ𐭩•｡ꪆৎ˚⋅ mx. santi's archive for filthy fantasies !! ᯓº·

♔ santi, they/them .

♔ 18 yo blk queer writer (⚣) .

♔ nb asf and my writing reflects that (rarely do i write for a gendered/racialized reader inserts; the furthest i will go is give reader a set aesthetic) .

♔ smutty smut smut with a sprinkle of fluff and sfw content ; mostly supernatural, other fandoms includes ... the boys.

spn masterlist ♔ the boys masterlist .

[semiautosantigold]

♔ supernatural masterlist !!

.ᡣ𐭩 dean winchester

LI (LICKY) CK (LICKY) Y (pierced! reader)

Freaky Tonight (BJ Vers.)

wips // shapeshifter dean! smut .

.ᡣ𐭩 sam winchester

LI (LICKY) CK (LICKY) Y (pierced! reader)

Sammy w/ a cutesy! s/o (partial fluff ??)

wips // stanford! sammy hcs, "freaky tonight (bj vers.)" (sam ver.), 2000s! celebrity sam hcs.

⏝⊹⏝ㅤ꒰ა⑅໒꒱ㅤ⏝⊹⏝

[semiautosantigold]

Freaky Tonight (BJ Vers.)

⊹︵︵︵⊹𝄞⊹︵︵︵⊹ freaky tonight masterlist (tba) , ,

ᡣ𐭩 " a little licking on my clit (munch vers.) / a little suckin' on your dick " - ms. sancha.

ᡣ𐭩 dean winchester/reader (gender, race, nor size are specified), smut (oral sex (d!receiving) + edging, subby!dean, throat creampie (d!). not proofread, sam ver here (link tba).

ᡣ𐭩 how dean would respond to you giving him frenulum bjs/massages as a way to edge him .

ᡣ𐭩 Dean Winchester

Each brush of your lips against the sensitive underside to his cock made his hips stutter, fighting against the steady grip of your hand on his thigh. His head has long since been thrown back, grimace pulling relentlessly at the sharp features of his face. Even the dark woven fabric of his shirt couldn't hide the way his breath shuddered, coming and leaving as quick, hissed grits between his teeth.

"Shit," the look on his face could've been mistaken for excruciating pain if it weren't for the pathetic whimper that slipped under his radar of not giving you the satisfaction of watching him fall apart (something he's failed horrifically at). Dean forced a slow, shaky exhale as his eyelids fly open, rapid blinks doing nothing to mitigate the near painful throb between his legs.

You pull away from his cock with a smile, eyes locked on his despite his efforts to look away. Dean's nails dug deeper into the leather of your couch the second you ghosted a finger over his frenulum, gently rubbing back and forth in slow strokes as your other hand wrapped around the base. Another strangled sound left his throat when your gentle – borderline nonexistent – touch moved to run over the slit of his cock.

Beads of milky precum ran down the curve of his length, gathering around your fingers as you leaned closer to kitten-lick at the trail it left. Dean's cock twitched in your hand, his balls tightening with every small movement you made.

Sloppy, sideways kisses to the head of his cock blended into you lapping and swirling your tongue around the first inch of his length. The room soon filled with Dean's heavy sighs of pleasure and throaty, guttural curses alongside the wet, sloppy sounds of you teasing him. You spit onto his cock, quickly wrap your lips around him to suck it back into your mouth, then press your lips to his underside, tongue pushing the mixture of spit and pre back into his length.

"God, you're a fuckin' mess," he panted, hand coming to cup your slick chin as he finally let go of his composure. His green eyes darted over your face, lingering as if committing the sight of you kneeled and slick with both you and him to memory. You simply hummed a small "mhm" that trails of into a moan, pressing him back into your mouth as your hand pumps the rest of his length.

"mm, you fuckin' love that shit, don't you?" The combination of your words, the filthy image of you between his legs, and the lust-drunk chuckle that left your lips moments after tonguing at the head of his cock; Dean released a sound between a groan and a whine before throwing his head back yet again.

"Fuck, y'know I do," he panted. "Fuckin' love how nasty you are," Dean was cut off by an involuntary shout of pleasure when you suddenly took his length down to the base, throat squeezing tight.

Broken, half-minded babbling of how sexy you were and how good you made him feel spilled out of him like wine over a glass, filling the room with the echoes of his praise. It's not until your free hand gently massaged his balls that you knew he couldn't hold back much longer.

Dean's thighs jerked together – his tell-tale sign that he's moments from busting – as both of his hands flew to cradle your head. Thoughtless pumps of his hips into your mouth brought him to the very brink of pleasure, his bottom lip pulled painfully between the growing pressure of his teeth.

You let him throatfuck you until he's grunting, broken "jus' like that"s and "fuck, baby"s filling your ears as his cum gushed down your esophagus. Each swallow and added suction from your mouth coaxed more cum until he physically couldn't anymore. His hands that once held your face pawed at your shoulders, weak attempts at stopping the overstimulated pleasure racking his senses.

You pulled away with a grin, only to making a show of licking him clean and stuffing any remaining precum on your fingers into your mouth. He watched behind half-lidded eyes and parted lips, throat bobbing as his half-soft cock twitched at the sight.

"God, you're dirty," he huffed a bout of incredulous laughter, voice hoarse as he guides your lips to his. He groaned at his own taste heavy on your tongue and he deepens the kiss with no hesitation.

you simply laughed and nodded as he licked away the remaining arousal and spit off of your chin.

. fin.

[tocka-irbis]

I MISSSS YOUUUUU

This was a sweet message to return to. I miss entertaining you all with my writings, even if they aren't the best.

My lovely mutuals, anons, and readers I do hope to put together something worthwhile for you. I've been doubting myself for sometime hence the radio silence. Later today I will attempt to put up a blurb to make up for lost time.

Do take care and drink plenty of water dear anon.ᡣ𐭩

[semiautosantigold]

ᡣ𐭩•｡ꪆৎ˚⋅ which of these would y'all want to be posted first? ᯓº·

90s! college boy! dean headcanons (fluff/smut)

90s!Stanford! sam (smut)

Trashy!2000s! au sam & dean headcanons

something else (comment)

Voting ended onJan 16

⏝⊹⏝ㅤ꒰ა⑅໒꒱ㅤ⏝⊹⏝

I've been having au brainrot for the past few days. For the first option with dean, I was thinking something along the lines of dean going to stanford alongside sam as a physics major. he's balancing his studies to become a medical physicist alongside keeping up in a healthy relationshio with his s/o that's in nursing school (nursing student!reader).

A synopsis of the fic would be dean going for a study/lunch date with reader and continuing the study session at his shared apartment (he rooms with Sam); dean gets overwhelmed and needs a study break, sam steps out to tutor another classmate who's been struggling in law, dean decides to get freaky with the reader.

For the 90s!Stanford! Sam au, it would be a simple headcanon post describing what it would be like to date sam if he managed to actually live his collegiate boy dreams and complete law school.

The trashy 2000s au would essentially be one where the boys are reimagined to be D-list celebrities (either somehow nepo babies, myspace-models turn reality tv stars, or socialite-adjacent hot boys that everyone wants to date, idk). Reader is building their career, typical 2000s scandal tabloids, paparazzi attacks, fucking where you're not supposed to be fucking, etc.

[semiautosantigold]

𝐒𝐚𝐦𝐦𝐲 𝐰/ 𝐚 𝐜𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐲! 𝐬/𝐨 ...

︶ ⏝ ︶ ୨୧ ︶ ⏝ ︶

݂ ͘ ౨ৎ sam winchester / cutesy! reader (gender, race, & size not specified, reader loves pink, collects stuffed animals, wears short shorts, skirts, tube tops, etc), fluff and smut.. .ᐟ ⟢ ۫

❀ song recs: bambaleo - red velvet, miniskirt - aoa, airplane mode, Limbo, shadow, f(x) .

❀ sam loves to watch you get ready for the day, his hair disheveled and his bare, tanned skin contrasting from the frilly plush of your duvet cover. he barely fits in your bed, but he manages to make it work. propped up against the palm of his hand, his large biceps practically crush the pillow underneath him as he takes in the sight of you changing into one of those ridiculously cute outfits he adores.

❀ he makes sure that you know that you can wear whatever you want. not once has he ever made you feel as if you should change or cover up. in fact, you can't think of a time where his face didn't light up instantly upon seeing you, or a time where a compliment isn't the first thing that comes out of his mouth.

❀ there's been a handful of moments where you noticed men staring you down, but the moment they realized the hulking 6'5" man next to you was... well, with you, their gaze shift away with either a grumble or a quick double take.

sam has no problem cutting in if someone makes you uncomfortable. he tends to walk in front of the other person and greet you with a "there you are, baby" and a protective peck to your lips. he acts as a physical barrier between you and the other person until they get the point — whatever conversation they were having with you? It's long since been over.

❀ sam, ever the gentleman, does everything he can to make sure no one sees more than they're supposed to. he stands behind you when you bend over, a protective hand on your back as he ensures that the only person to get a glimpse of your bright colored thong is him.

he gently pulls you into his side and whispers in your ear if your top sinks lower than usual or borders on indecent exposure. he walks behind you when you walk up stairs, intentionally blocking the way just in case someone were to try to sneak a peek up your short dress or skirt. he offers his jacket when you get cold and never chastises you for not covering up or prioritizing fashion over function. overall, he does his best to make you feel the best you can be.

❀ however, sam is still a man. he can't deny the lingering looks he gives your body or those brief moments before he prevents a potential wardrobe malfunction where he just... stares and lets his mind wander back to the memory of your bare skin grinding against his that morning.

❀ sam absolutely denies how horrible his impulse control was near the beginning of your relationship.

sam wasn't used to having someone so comfortable and confident in their body around, so when you started showing up in tight little mesh tube tops and short shorts that left little to the imagination? he definitely had to find something nearby to cover the growing tent in his pants. the fact that he's excused himself to rub out a particularly bothersome erection with you in the next room? on multiple occasions? he's taking that to the grave. his ears go red eith embarrassment whenever those moments crosses his mind.

❀ he genuinely thinks that you're adorable. even when he's moments away from burying himself balls-deep inside of you, all he can think about is how cute you look when you're out of breath and needy for him. he's a pretty big guy, so when your hands can barely wrap around his biceps as you struggle to breathe through the stretch he's giving you? his heartstrings tug the same time his cock throbs.

❀ if you get whiny and desperate during sex, he coos gentle words of affirmation at you, murmuring how good you're being for him against your forehead. he loves the small noises you make and encourages you to make more. he memorizes what spots inside you gives him his favorite sound of pleasure from you.

❀ if you're a dirty talker, he genuinely goes speechless sometimes. whether you're moaning about how big he feels inside you, how well he fucks you, or degrading yourself and begging him to fuck you like the cockdrunk slut you are, he's letting loose a strained groan and putting his hips deeper into you. the dirtier you get, the more breathless he becomes. honestly, he can come just from listening to you talk dirty to him.

in fact, sometimes when you're not around, he shuts his eyes and imagines you sitting behind him and your hand wrapped around his cock instead of his own (yk, like these porn videos? cw: p-link). he replays his favorite phrases he's heard from you and imagines you murmuring them into his ear as you jerk him to completion.

❀ if you're not that vocal, he does most of the talking. the closer he gets, the more he stutters. he's a moaner, so he's making the prettiest sounds against your skin as his hips stutter. he compliments you, your body, and how you make him feel the whole time, going on about how lucky he is to have you until he's pulling out and coming all over you.

❀ one time, you got shy and asked him to turn your stuffed animals around right when he was getting ready to pull you to the edge of your bed, drop to his knees, and wrap his lips around where you needed him most. he could've swore he fell for you all over again in that moment. depending on how horny he is, he'll either take his time turning each and every one of your stuffed animals around or press a kiss to your lips and ask for a compromise.

"let's js cover them up, yeah? that way they can't see."

he'll toss a blanket over the sea of plushies on your bed, careful not to squish any other them as he begins to eat/suck you like a man starved. in general, he's very respectful of your belongings and your wishes. he's never going to call your requests stupid.

[semiautosantigold]

𝐋𝐈 (𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐘) 𝐂𝐊 (𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐘) 𝐘

︶ ⏝ ︶ ୨୧ ︶ ⏝ ︶

𝄡𝄢 dean winchester / pierced!afab! reader (no gender specified but reader has a pussy), reader has nipple, belly button, christina, and vch piercings, smut (nipple play & nipple sucking, reader recieves oral).

˚⊱ a/n: i got a little carried away and made this wayyy longer than the sammy one. i might extend the sammy one just to make it fair, but at a later time. ⊰˚

sam ver. here !!

︶ ⏝ ︶ ୨୧ ︶ ⏝ ︶

when dean notices the jewelry of your nipple piercings through the soft fitted fabric of your tank top, his eyelids sink a bit lower over his green eyes and his lips part instinctively. he does a terrible job at hiding the fact that he's barely listening to what you're saying, nodding a moment too late and responding with half-assed "mhm"s and "yeah"s. he gives himself away when answering your yes or no question with a "oh really? that's... that's uh, great."

you shoot him a look and wave a hand in front of his face, making him snap from his trance with a small jump and a series of blinks. "I was listening!" he attempts to defend himself, but he quickly falls silent when you ask him to repeat the question you asked just moments before.

"... I didn't catch that part."

when you fold your arms and turn away from him, his hands gently wrap around your hips before you could walk away.

"c'mere, baby. i'm sorry. y'know I'd never tune you out on purpose," he guides you to sit in his lap as he rests his chin against your shoulder, his eyes running over your mildly annoyed expression, dipping back down to your thin shirt before finding your eyes again. "jus' got a little distracted, that's all."

︶ ⏝ ︶ ୨୧ ︶ ⏝ ︶

"jesus christ, that's hot," he pants as you tugged your shirt over your head, eyes focused on the metal threaded through your nipples.

even when you smash your lips back against his, one of his hands move to grab the swell of your ass as the other digs into your back, pressing your chest directly against his. your brief moments of dominance come to an immediate end when he wraps one his strong arms around your body and flips you to be underneath him, a protective hand on the back of your head as he guides your body down to rest against the bed. your thighs sit against his, knees squeezing around his sides as he sheds his own top, necklaces gently beating against his solid chest.

those same necklaces trace gentle pathways against your skin as dean kissed down your body, his calloused hands running down your sides until settling on your waist as he popped one of your hardening buds into his mouth. he groans softly, pulling back long enough to swipe his index and middle finger over his tongue to tweak your other nipple.

"drive me fuckin' insane, y'know that?" he practically growls against your skin, a string of saliva connecting his glossy pink lips to your nipple as he pulls away. "y'got any more surprises you wanna fill me in on?"

︶ ⏝ ︶ ୨୧ ︶ ⏝ ︶

"you've got to be kidding me," he deadpans at the sight of full vision of your body. the way the bars of your still-glistening nipples match the curved barbell of your belly button piercing, how they have the same colored gemstones as the ones anchored through your christina and vch piercing — fuck, of course you'd get matching jewelry.

dean, with all of his sex appeal and charisma, genuinely looks like he's about to cream his pants in that moment. he moans despite not getting any kind of stimulation, situating himself between your legs with a kind of reverence one could only imagine on the face of a man before his god.

"please let me eat you out," his voice wavers, his half-lidded eyes zoned in on the glistening arousal coating your lips. "please," his voice actually cracks when he repeats himself. a shuddered mix of a groan and a whimper echoes against your core when you guided his face to your pussy.

the major difference between sam and dean when it comes to going down on you is that sam is a pleasure top; dean is about as subby as you could get.

dean lets out these breathy, desperate noises against your clit that he denies ceaselessly when he's no longer pussy-drunk. he encourages you to wrap your legs around his head and push him deeper into your cunt. one hand stays on your mons pubis, careful not to apply too much pressure to your christina as he keeps your clit exposed to each swirl of his tongue.

he sucks your vch jewelry into his mouth and places an extra emphasis to your bundle of nerves; teasing it with the tip of his nose, quick flicks with the tip of his tongue, long, deep bouts of suction from his swollen lips, etc. he (just like sam) grinds his hips into the bed, but the smooth rock of his hips are far more desperate. honestly, he could come just from eating you out (though he chooses not to out of sheer embarrassment and never being able to live with himself if he did).

"y'gonna come f'me, gorgeous? gonna come all over my tongue?" his voice is wrecked, but not nearly as wrecked as he looks; flushed cheeks, blown pupils, knitted brows, spit and arousal-slick lips, nose, and chin, etc. when you do come, he's moaning as well, his voice at least an octave higher than usual as he pants and laps at your core until you're shaking. he licks you clean, eyelids still heavy as he rises.

︶ ⏝ ︶ ୨୧ ︶ ⏝ ︶

bonus (?); if you gather the arousal and spit he accumulated over his face and gently push it back into his mouth, he's groaning as he sucks on your fingers, licking them clean.

︶ ⏝ ︶ ୨୧ ︶ ⏝ ︶

[dollfacefantasy]

SYMPATHY FOR THE DEVIL ♡

pairing: homelander x fem!reader

summary: homelander has taken an interest in you, vought's new intern. no matter how you look at it, as a good or bad thing, it ends the same way: him getting what he wants.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, dubcon, p in v, oral (m receiving), body worship, sir kink, obsessive behavior, manipulation/coercion, age gap (reader in early 20s)

wc: 7.7k (oops lol)

a/n: hehe. never thought i would write for this man but it was pretty fun :) comm for my sweet beloved @gor3-hound love you so very much mwah mwah <33

At the junction of the V-shaped table, Homelander sat. With his back to the skyline and his gloved hands folded in front of him, he held the posture of a statue. Ashley had been rambling on and on and fucking on for the past five minutes about shit he couldn't care less about. Her nasally voice bounced off the tile floors and painted ceiling, ricocheting around him like a rogue bullet. Only his impregnable skin didn't protect him from the discomfort of this situation.

It was moments like these that really made him regret killing Stillwell.

That woman knew how to handle things. As manipulative as she could be, at least she wasn't absolutely insufferable. How could Stan let Ashley replace her? She was a poor excuse of just about everything. Absolutely spineless, unintelligent, reactionary, and opportunistic. He really couldn't picture any person on this Earth genuinely liking her.

However in the midst of his mental complaints, he realized that the annoying sound of her speaking was directed at him. All the other stares in the room were zeroed in on him too. A-Train observed in cautious silence. Noir's goggles reflected Homelander's own image right back at him. Maeve judged with a sideways glance. And Starlight prepared for the worst.

He tore his own bright blue eyes from the door opposite the table and refocused them on Ashley. They scanned over her thinning ginger locks down to her gaudy outfit - a piss poor attempt at imitating power.

"What?" he asked, his voice cutting through the air with a force similar to one of Maeve's swords.

Ashley blinked in return. Fear swirled in her wide eyes. She tried to maintain that empowered appearance she so desperately wished was real, but he could see the innate urge to cower bubbling within her.

"Was that lineup for the funeral ok with you, Homelander? A-Train and Noir open, Starlight sings, and then you close?" she repeated.

Now it was his turn to blink. Like he could actually give a shit about the order of segments for Translucent's funeral. He swallowed hard. While she projected a mirage of power, he had to do the same with level-headedness.

"That's fine, Ashley. Have those two go first, and Starlight can follow up with Amazing Grace or whatever shitty hymns they teach in that hick town she's from, and then I can finish us out," he responded.

He could see how her knuckles were going white around the edge of her clipboard. She gripped it for comfort, as if that could save her from his potential wrath. It only irritated him more. If he wanted her dead, he would turn her to ashes where she stood. How hard she braced herself in advance wouldn't matter in the slightest. But people could be so foolish in moments of terror.

"Well speaking of that," she said before clearing her throat, an attempt at a natural transition, "We were trying to decide what song she would sing. Maybe one of our originals? Or do you think it would be more tasteful to go with something from an outside source?"

Gritting his teeth, he buried the urge to unleash the bright beams of red from his sockets. His hands slid off one another and pressed down onto the cool table.

"Do you really need me to decide what song is going to send Translucent to the grave?" he replied, "I don't care what you play, and no one else attending will either. They'll be focused on working up some tears for the useless dipshit they never had the displeasure of knowing. Instead of trying to gain their approval, we should be working on finding the next member of the Seven who can replace him. There's no use dwelling on the past. We need to be preparing for the future."

He paused to let his words permeate the room, giving everyone a chance to absorb the sentiment and adapt accordingly. With his pupils still trained on Ashley, he planned on continuing his tirade, but his train of thought came to an abrupt halt.

Soft pitter-patters of footsteps clacked down the hall outside this room. They sounded in a delicate rhythm, only audible to him. As they grew louder, he caught the scent of the source too. Airy and light. A stark contrast to the brash perfume Ashley doused herself in.

The doors at the front of the room slid apart to reveal you.

You stood there for a moment. The realization that you'd interrupted something was visible in your eyes. The small spheres cast down as you wobbled in like a fawn that sensed wolves watching from nearby.

Ashley turned to face you, a glower already set on her features. The resentment she held for everyone else in this building awoke from its usual dormant slumber because there was finally someone weaker she could take it out on.

Once you reached her, your hand rose and gave her a thin stack of papers. 

"I'm sorry for interrupting. It's a memo from 82. They made it sound urgent," you explained, everything about your temperament meek and timid.

After a brief pause to let you marinate in the few moments before your inevitable humiliation, she snatched the papers from you. Her eyes roamed over the page with disinterest. Even if the information conveyed by the small black letters was important, he doubted she would give it any reaction. She wanted to lash out, and she was going to, whether it was justified or not.

"They couldn't have emailed me this?" she snapped, as if that was something you could control.

"I don't know. I'm sorry. I'll check next time," you offered.

"You better or you'll run out of next times," she threatened, "Incompetence like this won't fly here. You're in the big leagues now, so act like it. Think before you do something instead of taking commands like a lap dog."

"I'm sorry," you replied, ducking your head again.

"Don't be sorry, just do better," she commanded.

"I will," you agreed.

"Good. Just get out of here now. Go pick up my lunch," she told you.

His lips curled into a scowl as he watched the scene play out. It was pathetic - not you, but Ashley. He hated seeing the fucking smirk on her face as you walked away. She had nothing to be smug about. She was nothing more than a feral coyote going after the scraps the other predators didn't take.

To make matters worse, when she returned her attention to the group at the table, she saw the look on his face. She saw the disdain, but instead of striking regret into her, it only deepened her sense of self-satisfaction.

She thought the look was for you. That he was disgusted with your mistake. Annoyed with your intrusion.

He couldn't have that. Not when that assumption was the farthest thing from the truth. Honestly, he didn't know if he was even capable of feeling such ire towards you. Not his precious little fawn.

Rising from his seat, his glare remained on Ashley. She did show a little fear then.

"You know, I don't have all day, Ashley. I'll open Translucent's funeral, Starlight will follow up with a song, and that will be it. A-Train and Noir can have the day off, because let's be honest, nobody will give shit either way," he mocked.

"But, sir-" she said, clearly confused by his sudden impending departure.

"I have more important things to deal with. If you need anything else, I'm sure one of the others can help you," he dismissed.

With that, he stepped back from the table and began heading to the doors. He hoped if he was fast enough he could still catch you. Even in a building as sleek and modern as this one, the elevators could be quite slow.

Walking out into the hall, his head swiveled in the direction you would have gone. For once, his own portrait didn't catch his eye. He didn't even think about stopping by Stillwell's office to reminisce. Instead, he just headed down towards the elevator. His red boots thudded across smooth tile in rapid succession, covering the path you'd just taken.

Finally, after a few feet, he spotted you. Bottom lip pulled between your teeth. Eyes glossy with embarrassment. Tip of your polished shoe tapping against the ground. You startled when his voice boomed across the space, calling out your name. So cute.

You looked at him with fear in your eyes, but disgust didn't fester in the pit of his stomach like it did when others gave him that anxious stare. Another feeling bloomed inside him, one he couldn't really place. It was just that the nervous gleam over your pupils didn't make him hate himself and all the circumstances of his life that put him in his position.

Instead, your wide eyes and pouty lips made him feel strong. You made him feel like a hero. A real one, not the artificial caricature that Vought projected to the world. With you nearby, he felt like the kind of guy who deserved the American flag blowing off his back with a pretty girl cradled in his arms and a dead enemy at his feet. When you gazed up at him, he could only imagine that the pride rushing through his chest and confidence pooling between his hips was the feeling his creators intended for him.

"Did you need something from me, sir?" you asked, reminding him that he actually had to provide a reason to talk to you. Just wanting to stare at you like a psychopath would not suffice unfortunately.

"Oh no," he waved off, "The meeting just finished up. I was heading out too. I saw you, and I realized I haven't really taken the time to get to know you yet, which is unfortunate because I usually like to be familiar with the newer people we have working with us."

A complete lie. Before you, he didn't remember ever giving any of the interns a second glance. They were true nuisances. They were Ashleys.

"Oh... well I'm around whenever you wanna talk. Ashley keeps me busy, but I'm sure I could make an exception for you," you replied.

"You absolutely can make an exception for me," he chuckled, "If Ashley gives you any trouble, just let me know, and I'll make sure she remembers who's really in charge around here."

It wasn't until he heard your heart rate increase that he realized those words probably came off as threatening. Well, they were threatening, but you weren't supposed to see him that way.

"I'm kidding," he forced out with a laugh, "Just joking around like I do... I just don't want you to worry about getting in some kind of trouble for me sniffing around you."

You huffed out an awkward laugh of your own and nodded.  "I'll be sure to make some time for you in the future then and let Ashley know it was at your direction."

"Great," he said with probably too much enthusiasm. 

His jaw clenched into one of his usual tight smiles. He averted his eyes from you and looked towards the numbers on the elevator. Fuck, it was reaching the bottom. He didn't want to let you go, but it wasn't like he could just stroll down the street with you to go get Ashley's lunch. His mind scrambled to come up with a solution.

But like your earlier intrusion into the meeting, your gentle voice cuts through the hurricane forming in his head.

"Are you alright, sir?" you ask, anxious concern written all over your features.

He refocused on you and nodded. His arm extended out behind you, his palm landing against the elevator wall. As he leaned in, he could smell your adrenaline spiking. He could hear the shift of your shoe against the ground. If only he possessed a sixth sense for the mind, so he could know what little thoughts about him were flitting through your head.

"I'm fine. You don't need to worry about me," he answered. He smiled down at you, observing the slight nod you gave him in return.

"Of course not. It probably seems silly coming from me," you said.

His brows raised in amusement. "What's that supposed to mean?" he asked.

He saw the flash of regret in your eyes. The one people always gave him when he asked a question in that tone. The one that came from the panic of realizing they may have said something that offended Homelander.

You suppressed it pretty well though and brought out a smile that gave the impression that you hoped he was messing with you instead.

"Well you know... because you're you," you said and tilted your head in an innocent way that made his chest ache.

He chuckled that charming, prepackaged laugh that had been trained into him. "Even I can appreciate someone taking an interest in checking on me," he replied.

It was maddening, how bad he wanted you. He wasn't even sure when this craving had sprouted inside him. He had been so preoccupied with his affinity for Stillwell that his fixation with you struck him like a glass window in front of a flying bird. But no matter the timeframe in which it blossomed, it had taken root by now and wasn't going to go away on its own.

When he looked at you like this - staring up at him with earnest fascination - his mind drifted to darker places all on its own. He couldn't stop it if he wanted to (and really, he didn't want to). It's just how was he not supposed to be aware of the fact that it would be all too easy to take you back to his room? How could he not think about what it would feel like to have your fragile body beneath his own in private? How could he not wonder what you'd sound like crying out in a sinful mix of pleasure and pain?

Hell, how was he supposed to pretend like he couldn't just bend you over and fuck you dumb right here in the middle of this elevator if he wanted to? No one would be able to stop him. There wouldn't be a thing they could do other than watch. They could stare in horror as he used you like he deserved, as he pounded into your warm, soft, dripping hole like he needed...

Unfortunately, painting that picture in his head had his blood rushing South. He felt the subtle simmer of desire in his pelvis, and he knew in no time his length would be filling out. This suit gave him no way of hiding it either. Clearly, whoever made it hadn't anticipated the Homelander popping a boner on the job.

But luckily for him, the elevator chimed with its arrival at the bottom floor. He straightened out as you looked ahead in preparation of your departure. But before you could go, he grabbed your arm. His touch was tender, holding the same force he'd use when cradling a baby at a photo-op.

"Maybe later tonight you'd like to take me up on one of those talks? After you're done for the day, you could stop by my place. The sooner the better, right?" he asked.

Your eyes widened ever so slightly, but you still nodded. "Um... sure thing. I'll head up once I've finished all my work. It should be around six if that's ok?" you offered.

"Yeah, that works for me. I'll be waiting," he said in an attempt to be playful.

You smiled once more and then headed out of the elevator. His fingertips dragged down your arm to your wrist as you walked away before you finally slipped from his grasp. He could hear your heart pounding faster than your footsteps as you headed towards the exit of the building.

At six o'clock sharp, a knock sounded through his penthouse. And it only took him a few seconds to swing the door open and greet you.

"There she is," he beamed with exaggerated politeness.

You smiled modestly in return, shrugging and smoothing out a crease in your blouse. "I couldn't let the leader of the seven down," you joked.

He scoffed but opened the door wider, beckoning you into his place. You took the invitation and crossed the threshold. Your eyes glanced around the place, taking note of all the things in the apartment that housed the most powerful man on Earth.

The American flag taking up an entire wall almost stopped you in your tracks. It would've been funny if it was someone else, but because it belonged to him, it stood there like a warning. You tried not to show how daunting you found it. Average people could be touchy about that famous piece of cloth. You didn't want to find out if the strongest supe felt the same through means of offending him. 

In place of letting that bother you, you shifted your attention over to all the historical pictures hanging on the walls and the sleek surfaces and drawers filled with things you couldn't begin to imagine. Your eyes casted over the statues accenting the space as well. It was all so very polished. It looked like what you'd expect the Homelander entry in an Ikea catalog to be.

"So what do you think?" he asked. He knew his words came off as stiff. Probably a little stilted sounding. He just couldn't help it. For the first time, he couldn't get a read on how you felt through physical signs alone. And right now, he really really wanted you to like him.

"It's... impressive," you answered.

But he could hear the hesitation in your voice. In each word, there was the same wavering quality to it that you get when Ashley grilled you in front of an audience. It wasn't the precious reverence that he saw in the elevator. The nervous kind of admiration you held for someone above your standing. This was just plain anxiety, and that served no purpose to him. 

Despite your trepidation however, you walked forward to the window at the back of the place. You looked out over the city in awe.

"I would love to live somewhere high up like this," you said.

He came up from behind to stand next to you in front of the glass panes. His eyes landed on your face. You stared out the window, wonder twinkling in your eyes. Your voice sounded almost breathless. It was adorable.

"No fear of heights?" he asked.

"Not when it comes to being inside. Maybe I'd be nervous if we were on a balcony or something," you replied.

"Oh come on. You'd have nothing to worry about if you were with me. I'd never let you fall," he said, dropping his voice a few octaves.

You made that cute little face again when those words hit your ears. Your eyes widened before they fell to look at your shoes. So modest, the way you shied away. He wondered if you were always so timid or if it was only when a god amongst men like himself flirted with you.

He chuckled and reached out, tilting your chin back up to look at him. "You don't need to be nervous," he soothed, "There's no safer place to be than with the Homelander, right?"

You nodded right along. His words left no room for objection.

"Good girl," he smirked and dragged a gloved thumb over your cheek. He pulled his hand back and stepped in the direction of the brown leather sectional that sat in the middle of the room.

"Come over here and sit down. We can talk," he directed.

Following him to the large couch, you took your seat near the corner. You assumed he'd sit at the other end or at least towards the middle of the perpendicular cushions, but no. He sat down in the corner with you. His body was at most a foot away.

He continued to smile at you though he didn't speak. It felt odd, sitting there in silence across from him. He wasn't doing anything overtly threatening, yet you still felt at his mercy.

"So, do you like it here so far? Do you feel like you're fitting into the Vought family?" he asked with a bit of an edge to that second word.

You nodded again. A relieved breath seeped from your lungs as the tense void in conversation came to an end. "Yeah, it's nice here. I feel like I'm learning a lot."

He chuckled and leaned back against the stiff backing of the sofa. His muscular arm draped along the top. Though it wasn't his intention to draw your focus there, he caught the way your eyes dragged over his bicep.

"That's good," he said, "It can be a lot when you're new. I wouldn't want you feeling overwhelmed."

"That's nice of you. I appreciate it, but I'm used to a busy schedule," you replied.

"You're freshly graduated, aren't you?" he checked.

"Yeah," you said, your lips quirking upwards at his guess.

"I thought so. You have that cute, wide-eyed, optimistic thing going for you."

A small laugh leaves your lips. "I know. Ashley said I'll grow out of it by the end of this quarter."

His face dropped, and he almost abandoned the prince charming act he was attempting to pull off for you. The mere mention of Ashley was enough to irk him, but the thought that she was trying to change you? Not only change you but jade you. To strip away the soft and sweet qualities that hooked him on you in the first place. It was criminal. He couldn't hide his disdain.

"You shouldn't listen to her," he said. He wasn't angry, but his cadence held intensity. "Ashley's problem is Ashley. To be honest, I don't even know why they gave her an intern. It's not like she'd be good at teaching anything when she still doesn't understand most things about our business herself."

Your fingers dug into the edge of your seat. It wouldn't have been significant in a normal conversation, but when speaking with a man who could hear a pin drop forty stories down, he noticed.

"You're still nervous," he observed.

In an instant, your hands flew to your lap, like you knew what gave your anxiety away. You fidgeted with the hem of your skirt and shrugged.

"A little," you admitted.

"Are you scared of me?" he asked.

You shook your head without even thinking about the question.

"No, it's not that. I swear," you reassured, "It's just that this is a big deal for me. I'm really honored you want to get to know me, and I just want to make a good impression."

"You don't need to worry about that. I wouldn't have invited you here if I didn't have a good impression of you," he said.

You sighed slightly, letting out a bit of tension, but he could still smell that boosted cortisol running through your blood.

"Come here," he ordered, his voice soft but undeniably firm.

"What?" you asked.

A puff of amused air blew from his nostrils. "Come here," he repeated, "Sit closer."

As if you needed the guidance, he patted the space directly beside his hip. He could see the uncertainty in your eyes even after the gesture. The lack of understanding toward his reasoning persisted. Regardless of your skepticism however, you scooted in his direction and ended up where he wanted you.

"That's better," he said.

With careful fingers, he slipped the glove off his right hand. Your eyes locked on it in subtle awe. You'd seen this man on billboards and commercials for years. His face dominated newscasts. His voice broadcast over the radio on a weekly basis. Still, you had never seen such a human part of him. Five fingers and a palm reaching for your own.

They clasped around your hand. His skin was smooth. The gloves preserved them from any marks of experience.

"Did Ashley warn you about me?" he asked, drawing your eyes back to his own.

Your heart thundered, but you couldn't lie. Never had Vought bragged about Homelander being a human lie detector, but in this moment, you felt like that was the case.

"Yes," you responded.

He clicked his tongue in disapproval. "You didn't believe her, did you?" he asked.

You could tell he already knew the answer. He just wanted to hear it.

"Yes," you whispered again.

"What did she tell you?"

It was hard to remember that conversation you'd had a few weeks ago with Ashley. Feeling like you were two seconds away from having lasers beamed through your skull made minute details fuzzy and distant, but you manage to choke a few out anyways.

"She said that you have a very specific vision for the Seven, and that you'll do anything to make your dreams reality. She was just saying you're ambitious. That you care about the greater good," you summarized.

"I have a feeling you're saying it a lot nicer than she did," he teased. He could feel the fear rolling off of you in waves, and in a moment, he would rectify that. But for right now, he didn't mind letting his precious little fawn tremble in terror for a few moments more.

"Yeah, she can be kind of blunt," you said with a shaky laugh.

"That's one word for it," he said.

"She's not gonna get in trouble because of what I said, is she?" you asked.

He couldn't help laughing at that. The sound came out low and throaty. You were just so fucking pure. Worried about protecting someone who wouldn't hesitate for a second to sell you out if it meant she could climb up another rung on the corporate ladder.

His exposed thumb rubbed back and forth over your knuckles. "No. Of course not. We're just talking," he said.

He leaned in closer to you, positioning his mouth in close proximity to your ear. His free hand came up to cup your jaw.

"I appreciate your honesty though. Ashley probably couldn't tell you this, but I appreciate a loyal girl like you," he murmured.

On both your hand and through his glove in contact with your chin, he could feel your skin heat up.

"Oh... thank you, sir," you said.

He chuckled. His fingers squished into the flesh of your cheeks, making your lips puff out as though they were seeking a kiss.

"So polite, but I like that. We need more people here who understand their place," he said.

At this point, the gravity of your circumstances began to settle on you. Your fear had worn off a bit, and you realized what a compromising position he had you in. With one tight squeeze, he could crush every bone in your face.

Out of instinct, you tried pulling back a little. You didn't make it obvious, only attempting to gain a few inches of space.

That was a few inches too many though. He tightened his grip and kept you where he wanted you.

"Ah ah," he tutted, "How many times do I have to tell you that you don't need to be scared? I'm not going to hurt you."

You dropped the resistance right then and there. It wasn't worth pursuing. If he didn't want you getting away, you weren't getting away.

He took a few more seconds to study your face, taking in every minutiae of your expressions. Then, his hands dropped to your waist, and he pulled you into his lap. His thighs were firm against your ass, both rigid in how he carried himself and defined from the pure muscle that made them up.

His hands smoothed up and down your sides, coasting over each crease in your blouse. He massaged your soft tissue with gentle squeezes from the beginning of your bra down to the swell of your hips.

"God, you're beautiful," he muttered, "You fit here like you were made for me."

You vibrated in his grasp. He could feel the way you quivered with the urge to pull away.

"Thank you, s-sir," you stammered, "I really appreciate it but-"

"But nothing," he cut you off.

"But I don't think we should be... doing this," you tried to continue anyway.

"Why not?" he asked. Though his tone made it obvious that no matter what reason you provided, it wouldn't change his mind.

"Because you're like my boss, y'know? And I worked really hard to get my spot here, and I don't want people thinking I slept my way to where I am," you explained, "You're really nice, and I admire you a lot, but it wouldn't be right."

He didn't respond immediately. He paused and let your words hang in the air for a few moments.

"You know," he finally spoke, "I don't think you understand how things work around here. It doesn't matter what anyone else in this building thinks. Only me."

You blinked at him, unsure of how to respond to such an assertion. It didn't matter though. He continued without your input.

"What I do with you, how I feel about you - no one else will know about it unless you tell them. But even if you do and even if they care, there isn't a thing they'll do about it. There's not a thing they can do about it," he continued.

"I still don't think it's a good idea," you maintained.

"Good thing this isn't for you to think about then," he mocked, "You're a fast learner. You'll figure it out soon enough. I am God in this tower. And a god doesn't listen to his subjects. He guides them. He knows best."

One of his hands slid up your tummy and over your chest onto your throat. He cupped your jaw and swiped his thumb back and forth across your bottom lip.

"What did Ashley tell you about me?" he asked.

"That no one gets in your way."

"Good. And she was right. No one gets in my way. Nothing stops me from getting what I want. And I've wanted you for too fucking long not to try you out."

That set of fingers on your chin pulled your face towards his and brought you into a kiss. You froze against his lips. It felt as though all of time stopped. This high up, you couldn't hear the sounds of the city outside the penthouse. No one existed in this moment but you and him.

Unlike you, he melted into the exchange. He sighed against your skin and pulled you flush against his toned body. After a second to let you come to terms with what was happening, he kissed you again. His lips sucked on yours gently, attempting to coax you into returning the affection.

The most he got is you puckering them up ever so slightly.

He pulled away with frustration in his eyes and grabbed your face, jerking you a little to look at him.

"Don't act like you don't want this. I know you do," he said, "You're scared, but you don't need to be. Relax and let yourself enjoy this. It's not everyday that the most powerful man on earth wants to fuck you."

Your eyes blew up like little saucers, but before you could really process the directness of what he'd said, he was kissing you again. This time it wasn't as nerve wracking. You softened up a little and kissed back.

You didn't put much effort into it. Your lips responded like this was a juvenile first date. But he didn't let up. He didn't let you give him anything less than your best. His hands roamed across your body. They groped and fondled your breasts and then migrated South to feel up your ass through your pencil skirt.

Your muscles started to loosen up after a minute or so. You told yourself this wasn't so bad. He was being gentle so far, and for someone with his abilities, you wanted it to stay that way. You brought your hand up to his face and cupped his cheek. With that as leverage, you deepened the kiss.

He groaned as soon as you started to give in. His hands fell to your hips and tugged you so that you were straddling him. He smacked your ass, the sound echoing around his apartment. You could tell he held back. A real spank from Homelander could shatter your hip, but this one barely even stung. Maybe he did like you.

His fingers came up and with a sharp tug, he popped the front of your top loose. The column of buttons sprung free. The strips of cloth fell away to each of your sides, exposing a sliver of your skin. He furthered it by pulling off the garment entirely. His eyes trailed along your bare shoulders to your collar bone before finally landing on your breasts. He gave them a firm squeeze, kneading them through the barrier of your bra.

Meanwhile you rolled your hips down on his lap. Immediately, you felt his bulge that had risen to attention between your thighs. You did it again and then again. Each time you ground yourself against him with more pressure.

He grunted, and his eyes fluttered. His hands returned to your waist and gripped you hard, guiding your movements. He seemed transfixed for a few moments, as if he couldn't decide his next move.

After a few seconds though, he got his momentum back. He yanked you off his lap and flipped over so that you were seated on the couch again.

He rose to his feet before you. There your eyes scanned over his body from his tousled blond hair and his kiss-swollen red lips to his sculpted abdomen and his swelling erection. You reached out to touch him, but he stopped your hand mid-air.

Once your arm was limp on the couch again, he removed his other glove. He dropped it to the floor before bringing his right boot to the spot on the sofa next to you. He unzipped the red shoe and then discarded it like he had with the other item. The other boot followed the same routine.

"I don't let just anyone see me like this," he told you as his fingers began to undo his collar, "You should feel lucky."

Lucky wasn't the word you would use to describe your feelings in this situation. Maybe special. Or distinct. Individual. Either way, you continued to watch. Your eyes glided over his figure as he pulled away the tight blue costume that seemed like a second-skin for how much he wore it.

His defined chest came into view. Your reluctance hadn't vanished all together just yet, but at this point, it was fading fast. Pale hair dusted the muscular expanse and trailed down his stomach to the waistband of the bottoms. The waistband he soon hooked his fingers over and peeled down.

He dropped the scaled navy fabric to the ground before kicking it away, leaving himself in just a small pair of boxers. His hand came down and rubbed the swollen tent at the front while his eyes lingered on you.

"Do you want to touch?" he asked.

You nodded. It wasn't a hard decision. This was still a bad idea. You hadn't changed your mind on that. But at this point, what else was there to do? Defying Homelander wasn't an option for anyone on this planet ever. You were no different.

"Ask," he commanded.

"Please can I touch you?" you said.

"Please what?"

"Please, sir. Can I touch you?"

"Good girl," he praised before nodding, "Go for it."

You reached out, this time successfully. Your palm landed flat on his stomach. You held it there for a moment, just feeling his skin. In a way, it was unreal. To feel that someone propped up on the world's pedestal was flesh and blood like you.

Rubbing up and down, you continued getting a feel for his body. He smirked at your wonder before guiding you up by the elbow.

"Stand up and do it right," he said.

"Sorry."

The word came from your mouth automatically. You brought your other hand up to his chest and felt the muscles in his chest. Everything was so built. You expected that, but it was still odd to feel beneath your fingertips. He felt like a living ken doll. You almost didn't believe if he dropped his boxers there would be a real cock there.

Your hands traced up to his shoulders with precision. They explored down his biceps and forearms. And then finally, you brought your lips into his chest. He sighed and tilted his head back, relishing the feeling.

You kissed all over, swirling your tongue and tracing shapes onto his skin. It was almost entrancing, to be so focused on someone like this. You barely noticed as he turned the two of you and sat himself down on the couch, lowering you to your knees.

You worked your mouth down his abs, licking and kissing the twitching muscles. Your fingernails scraped up his sides and then down onto his thighs. When your lips reached the waistband of his boxers, your eyes glanced up at him.

"Can I take them off, sir?" you asked.

He smirked at the title. Only one word of correction and he'd trained that phrase into you.

"Yes," he answered. It was a simple answer. All that was required for someone so naturally obedient.

You took it in stride, tucking your fingers over the elastic and tearing them down. His hard cock popped up and slapped against his pelvis. You couldn't have been happier about your earlier ken doll theory being proven wrong. The sight of his dick was enough to make you drool. It was better than any work of art out there.

It rested against his body at the perfect length, the perfect girth. The tip flushed beautiful red and pearly white beads of precum smeared at the top. Your fingers wrapped around it and gave it a few strokes, testing the waters.

His hand came down and petted your head. He watched as you studied the appendage, as you experimented with your own touch. It was so fucking cute he thought he might cum right then and there. Fuck, he thought you were sweet every moment he had eyes on you, but right now, you were darling. You were doing as he said. Accepting your place at the feet of a superior being.

"Put it in your mouth," he said from above, "I want you to taste it."

There was no hesitation on your end this time around.

"Yes sir," you responded before leaning forward and wrapping your lips around his cock.

He groaned and let his chest hollow out with a harsh exhale. Your mouth was so warm and wet, nice and snug around his length. He rocked his hips up, pushing it further into your throat. He expected a small gag or sputter, but instead you moaned. You shut your eyes and flattened your tongue against his shaft before beginning to bob your head.

"Fuck," he hissed. His legs tensed up, and he pressed down on your head. That did get a tiny gag out of you. You gripped his hips to stabilize yourself though and stayed in place. Your nose nestled against the darker curls of hair that sat at the base of his cock.

Spit leaked from your mouth and dribbled onto his skin below. He took a few moments to just enjoy the feeling of his dick down your throat. The sight of his sweet, innocent girl choking on his cock. Then he let you pull off and catch your breath. 

You took a few deep puffs, letting the spots clear from your vision before you dove back in for more. Your hand stroked the lower part of him your mouth didn't cover in its shallow sucks while your other set of fingers caressed his balls tenderly.

He'd never experienced devotion. As much as it pained him to ever acknowledge, his sexual experiences had been lackluster up until now. There were the times with Maeve, but they always left something to be desired for him. Then there was the time with Stillwell that ended before it really started. In either case, no one had ever put all of themselves into pleasuring him like you were doing right now. It drove him wild. He could feel his sac tightening up, and he knew he had to get you off.

Planting one hand on each side of your head, he tugged you back. You looked up at him with glossy, cock-drunk eyes and saliva-coated lips. He swiped some of the mess away before addressing you.

"You're doing so good for me, but I think you're ready for more, don't you?"

"Yes, sir," you agreed.

"My perfect pet," he crooned and pulled you up onto the couch.

He laid you flat on your back and ripped your skirt and panties off in one go. His eyes drank in the sight of your nude lower half, but he didn't spend much time savoring it. He spread you out, slotting himself against your center.

With a few rocks of his hips, he dragged his length through your wetness. He let the sticky fluid coat his shaft, and then he sunk in. His tip bullied its way into your entrance and the rest of him followed. You whined at the stretch. Your walls clamped around him, eager to accept the intrusion.

"Atta girl," he grunted as he worked himself all the way in.

His hips connected with your ass, but he still bucked them, trying to get more. You yelped at the force. He was already buried inside you. Anymore and his tip would be nudging the entrance to your womb.

Fortunately for you, he pulled his hips back, giving you a short break from feeling so full. It was short lived though. Seconds later he snapped back in. That began the quick rhythm he set into. It was desperate and needy, emotions he'd tried to hide until this point.

You whimpered as your body bobbed with the momentum. His thrusts bounced you back and forth. The sounds of his body smacking against yours filled the room. His fingers dug into your waist hard enough to bruise. You didn't complain about the minor pain though because you could tell he was holding back in every other regard. If a few marks on your side kept you from being pulverized by a super cock, then that was a burden you were willing to carry.

Above you, he starts to pant. His breaths leave him raggedly huffing, sucking down what oxygen he can get in the midst of rutting into you. He tilts his head down at you and gazes at your blissed out face with lidded eyes.

"I could have anyone. Any person on this Earth would be mine if I wanted them to be. But the only one I want is you. Doesn't that feel good?" he breathed.

"Yes!" you cried out. Your back arched up off the couch. "Feels so fucking good, sir."

He leaned into you more, squishing your body into the surface below. Your thighs pressed against your tummy as he bent you.

"Yeah, it does," he grunted, "It's all there is. It's all you need to think about. How you're all mine."

"Mhm," you whined with a lazy nod. You were getting closer to cumming and responding to his words was taking a lower priority in your mind.

"And to think you tried to deny yourself of it," he mocked. He clenched his jaw and slammed into you harder.

You shrieked and clutched his shoulders. In the back of your mind, you hoped his penthouse was sound proofed or at least enough distance from the nearest one. Otherwise you wouldn't have to tell anyone about this incident for it to spread throughout the tower.

"I knew better, didn't I? I knew this is what you needed," he said.

Again, you nodded. You felt the heat in your belly reaching the boiling point.

"Say it," he huffed.

You tried to force it out, but your own hiccuped sob of pleasure cut you off. He didn't give you a break though. He stared down at you with expectation, so you continued.

"You know best- uh, fuck- you know best, sir," you whined.

"Good fucking girl," he growled on top of you.

He was already close from the blowjob you'd given him. Only a few strokes more, and he was ready to explode. He swiveled his hips, angling them upwards to pound into that special spot that would make you see stars and stripes.

You mewled when you came. Your body trembled harder than it did when you were scared. Arousal gushed out of you and coated his skin. He huffed and buried his face in your neck before letting go.

Everything faded into the background as you laid underneath him in the haze that came after the absolute high of pleasure. Now you could feel his heartbeat too. The organ thundered against his chest over and over as he came down.

Minutes later he pulled back. His knuckles caressed down your jawline before he climbed off of you entirely. He sat back on the couch and let out a deep breath. You weren't sure whether you were supposed to pick up your stuff and leave or follow along with him and stay close to his side. There was no real indication of what he wanted in this moment, but he turned to smile at you and huffed out a laugh.

"I think I'll keep you with me more often now. Really show you the ropes of fitting in around here."

You sat up and nodded awkwardly. He leaned toward you, cupping your cheek.

"I'll be a much better teacher than Ashley ever was," he said. His arm snaked around you and pulled you to his chest again. "No more errands or coffee runs. I'll show you things you need. Things that you'll enjoy."

He ran his fingers over your face and kissed your temple. The touches were tender against your skin. They would have been romantic if your mind wasn't racing with what this all meant in terms of your job and the grand scheme of your future.

Looking at him though, he wasn't worried at all. He smiled down at you before whispering once more.

"My sweet little pet. All mine now."

[semiautosantigold]

𝐋𝐈 (𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐘) 𝐂𝐊 (𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐘) 𝐘

︶ ⏝ ︶ ୨୧ ︶ ⏝ ︶

𝄡𝄢 sam winchester / pierced!afab! reader (no gender specified but reader has a pussy), reader has nipple, belly button, christina, and vch piercings, smut (nipple play & nipple sucking, reader recieves oral).

dean ver. here !!

︶ ⏝ ︶ ୨୧ ︶ ⏝ ︶

the first time he gets you topless and sees that both of your nipples are pierced, he freezes for a moment. his adam's apple bobs as he swallows thickly, eyes not leaving the jewelry until you smiled and called his name. his attention snaps to your face as he tries to regain stability in his breath, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. he struggles to keep his eyes off of your chest before he rests his giant hands on your hips to pull you closer.

"god, i'm really trying to listen, honey, I swear..." his tongue darts out again as his gaze drops low again. "but right now, all I'm thinking about is getting my mouth on these," his hands slide up to gently palm your chest, thumbs ghosting over your hardening nipples. his eyes finally meet yours again.

"is this okay?" he checks your face and your body language for signs of discomfort, only bringing his mouth to your nipple when you give him verbal consent or shove his face into your chest. He groans and lifts your body to either sit in his lap or wrap your legs around his waist, his tongue lapping over the hardened bud. he sucks gently, taking the bud in between his teeth for an experimental bite. his soft eyes gaze through dark lashes as he watches your face for your reaction. he's trailing sloppy, wet kisses down your stomach, murmuring sweet praise against your skin until he gets to your pierced navel. despite the warm flush burning his ears and cheeks, he curses under his breath and flicks his tongue against the dangling lolipop charm and takes the 'lick it' charm between his teeth for a small tug. he presses kisses around your stomach, voice already half-gone with lust as he speaks.

"fuckin' gorgeous, i swear. love everything about you." he legitimately loses his breath when he tugs down your underwear to see your christina and vch piercing. he releases an incredulous huff before looking up, expression full of bewilderment. "you're full of surprises, aren't you?" he pulls away just a bit to admire the piercing setup, his eyes shining with joy as he smiles. "y'know, i've only seen this kind of stuff in pornos. never really thought it would be my thing, but on you?" he looks you in the eye, half-lidded and lust-drunk as he flattened his tongue to lick a stripe through your folds, flicking gently at your clit. "fuckin' filthy. god, i love it. jus' fuckin' love you, baby." one hand raises to palm your chest as the other wraps around your thigh as he begins to eat you out like a man starved.

he's messy with it, burying his nose against your clit, sliding his tongue deep inside of you, flattening his tongue and shaking his head back and forth, grinning into you when your hands fly to push back his hair or grab hold of it, murmuring filthy praise against your labia as he watches you from between your thighs, groaning and sending vibrations through your core as he grinds into the mattress, etc. the piercing through your clitoral hood makes his movements far more weighty, the sensations only growing more intense the longer he goes on.

sam becomes obsessed with your pussy, making you cum at least twice with just his tongue and fingers.

"nuh-uh. jus' one more for me, baby. yeah? can you do that for me?"

as you approach your peak, he hums quick encouraging "mhm"s and "that's it"s into your clit. once you finally orgasm again, he licks you clean with a breathy laugh, pressing kisses to your twitching thighs and your christina jewelry.

[very-merry-birthday]

Angel: 000 - Opportunity

000 • Opportunity • You are the creator of your own destiny.

000 . 111 . 222 . 333 . 444 . 555 . 666 . 777 . 888 . 999

Summary: Life is peachy - classes going well, beloved by your sorority, and your next five years planned out. But a chance encounter with Sam Winchester's drug dealer brother might change a thing or two.

Warnings: Smut, drug use (weed), sex while high, sorta corruption kink if you squint.

A/N: *Googles when Who Wants to be a Millionaire started, what they called weed in 2005, and synonyms for big dick* "Yes I'm a very serious writer."

You're gonna sleep with him.

You don't want to. Not really. He's not your type. All muscle, no mind. You can't even remember his name. Chris? Chet? Chad?

What you do know is three girls have already come up to you tonight to tell you he's been staring at you. As if you can't see it. It's all you've been focused on since the party started.

Because as much as you really don't care for the idea, you know this is an investment. You sleep with him tonight, by next week you're dating, by next semester it's official, by the time you graduate you're engaged, and in five years time you're married in the suburbs with twins on the way.

The perfect life.

So yeah, you're gonna sleep with him.

"Y'gonna sleep with him?" The low drawl comes from behind you, preoccupied, like it doesn't care about the answer.

You turn, confronted by the most gorgeous green eyes you've ever seen, the face to match. Sharp and soft all at once. Angelic.

He's chewing away at something, the chips from the bowl behind you. He looks at you, waiting for your answer.

"You don't go here, do you?" You smile without thinking, it's not a question of obstruction but intrigue. If he did you'd recognise him, if you'd ever even seen him before you'd recognise him, that's not the kind of face you forget.

"I'm that obvious?" He chuckles, grin plastered across his face. He's not been caught- he clearly doesn't care. You wait expectantly as he finishes the chips, swallows, "I'm visiting family."

"Anyone I'd know?"

"His names Sammy- Sam. Sam Win-"

"Winchester? You're Dean-" You speak with a kind of admiration you don't mean to.

He looks concerned, "Yeah I- how'd you know that?"

"We studied together- he uh- he mentioned you."

"He mentioned you too, said I'd find a gorgeous angel among this crowd tonight-"

You know better, "No, he didn't."

"You're right, he didn't- but he should've-"

You shake your head, turn away from him. It's on the tip of your tongue- Chase? Chay?

"He- uh- he doesn't exactly know I'm here- so if you could keep it quiet-"

You nod, don't turn to look at him. You're trying to keep on the task at hand.

"What's y'name?"

You keep your eyes forward as you tell him, trying not to give in to the draw of the question.

"So-" he steps up next to you, you can see him in your periphery, "-y'gonna sleep with him?"

"What's it to you?" You still don't look at him- that's a risk you're not willing to take. You're certain of one thing, Dean definitely is your type. And if you look at him again, you're not stopping any time soon.

"You've been starin' at him for the last hour- haven't smiled once. No cute lil giggles, no twirlin' your hair- sweetheart you look pissed."

That makes you break. You turn back to him, that grin still plastered across his face. He looks tired. Still hot, and strong and handsome and all the other words you're trying not to think- but tired all the same. The kind of tired guys like Chad-Chase-Chet don't ever look. Sam has that kinda tired. You have that kinda tired.

"I look- interested? Don't I?"

"Yeah- interested like oh look at this spider I've trapped in a glass not interested like I want this guy to fuck me into next week."

You laugh. It's a stupid laugh, like teenage giggles- cute lil giggles. You shake your head, "If I've been staring at him for the last hour, you've been looking at me for the last hour."

Now he's caught. He gives a hesitant chuckle, "I uh- well that's-"

"I'm not saying I mind." You smile up at him, keeping your face straight, trying not to let on how much you're enjoying his squirming.

"That so?"

"Only if you've been looking at me with the good kinda interested."

His face floods warm, not quite blushing but he's not far off. Flirting he seems used to, teasing maybe less so. You don't normally tease- it's fun.

You hand him the solo cup in your hand, watch as he takes a second to study the lipgloss stain on the rim, then he presses his lips to the same imprint, takes a swallow, hands it back.

"Sam's from Kansas, right?"

He nods.

"So- you're from Kansas, too?"

He nods again, like you're putting two and two together in an equation he didn't know you were solving.

"So tell me, Dean, why have you traveled across- what, five states- just to avoid your brother and come to a party you clearly don't wanna be at?"

"Hey- I wanna be here-"

"No, you don't- you haven't even got your own drink- you look like someone who wants to leave-"

"Okay, sorority parties aren't exactly my scene, especially not ones with pink decorations and bad music and-" he takes you in for a second, let's his eyes fall down your body. You watch as he notices your short pink skirt, right on theme, the heels you didn't really want to wear. For someone who's supposedly been looking at you for an hour, he's only just got a view of your body, "-oh my god, you're a sorority girl-"

"Yup." you hide a smile, try to look vexed, "I even picked out all those decorations you like so much-"

"I didn't mean-"

"You're right-" you break your smile, keep hold of your laugh, "-they're tacky-" you look at the pink balloons by the door, the streamers you put up this afternoon, "-but they're the kinda tacky people like-"

He nods, swayed by your ill-conceived argument.

"So why are you here?" You smile again, drop your gaze only slightly to his lips, the tiny sheen of your lip gloss dancing on the bottom one. It's barely visible, but you know it's there, you bet he can taste it.

He reaches into his jacket pocket with a smile, pulls out a small see-though bag of weed. You recognize it, you've smoked before- but not since you joined the sorority, not since you started college- not since you earned the scholarship that got you here in the first place.

You've been good, real good. Straight-A good. Blow-up-balloons-for-the-party good. Hold-a-girls-hair-back-while-she-vomits good. Absolutely-no-drugs good.

You're so bored of being good.

You reach out to grab his hand, enclosing your fist around his fist around the bag. His skin is hot, fire against your own.

"Are you seriously trying to sell pot right now?"

"I've got other shit too-"

"You really can't do that here." You keep hold of his hand for moments longer than you need to, you like how it feels.

"Scared I'll get you in trouble?" He teases.

"I'm scared you'll get yourself in trouble- the girl's here aren't exactly pro-drugs-"

"Are you?" He cocks an eyebrow.

You break apart as a girl sidles past you, a sweet smile on her face as she catches your eye, "Chance keeps looking at you-"

Chance. You were so close.

She walks off again as you turn back round. She's right- his eyes are still on you, that cocky smile that looks more patronising than confident. He clearly hasn't noticed Dean, it doesn't seem like many people have. He's got that kind of incongruence that blends in rather than stands out.

You feel as he steps up next to you again, looking out into the sea of people.

"There's that million dollar question again, sweetheart- y'gonna sleep with him?"

"Yeah- yeah, I am-" You turn back to face him with a smile, "-Unless I get a better offer."

He grins, shameless, "I'm staying in a motel, it's not far."

"What can I do at the motel I can't do here?" You know the correct answer - him - but you want to hear him say it.

He thinks for a moment, "You can smoke my weed?"

That works too.

You grab his hand as you weave through the crowd, lacing your fingers into his, tight. No one's looking, it's like he's sharing that secret ability to go unnoticed as you shift through people, make your way towards the door. It's takes getting outside for him to start leading you, his fingers slipping out of yours to wrap around your waist, pulling you gently towards his car.

He presses his lips to your ear, a low whisper, the heat from his breath brushing past you, "You're fuckin' gorgeous-"

The words go right through you, sleek and thick- the way he says it, like it's a secret he can't help but spill.

You realize you're at his car as he opens the door for you, trying to be such a gentleman while he takes you back to a motel to be fucked into next week- as he put it. You giggle slightly at the action and he smiles, he knows it's an empty gesture just as much as you do. You slide in, let the vinyl leather seats cool your skin.

You're not drunk, you never get drunk at parties, but part of you wishes you were. You want the cool air to sooth you, not chill you, you want to blame the alcohol rather than your very clear mind.

He takes his seat next to you and turns the engine on in a singular practiced move, throws an arm over your shoulder as he turns back to reverse. He catches your eye as he straightens out again, that smile still there. He has a look on his face, set deep into his jaw- a kind of desperation he's trying not to show. In need of stress relief. That's all you are tonight. That's fine, that's all he is too.

He glances down at your thigh, bare but visible even in the dark. He reaches out, takes hold- not firm, but possessive all the same. His thumb rubs against your skin, soft.

"Y'know, you really shouldn't be going to motels with strangers, sweetheart-" A chuckle as he chastises you, "-I could be a serial killer for all you know."

"If you're anything like Sam, you're too well-mannered to be a killer."

His smile breaks for a moment as he nods, the mention of his brother clearly kicking him in a way you didn't mean to.

Then he laughs again, "I should warn y', I ain't gonna be well-mannered the second I get you naked-"

You bite your lip at the confession, squeeze your thighs together instinctively.

He glances over to you, rubs his thumb again, "Fuck you're adorable."

He doesn't say it like a compliment, the words almost seem like a challenge, a dare.

You reach out, run your hand up his jean clad thigh, not even thinking as you cup the sizable bulge at his groin.

He lerches back, but tightens his grip on your thigh to keep you there.

"Fucking hell sweetheart, are you trying to make me crash?" He laughs through his hesitation.

You don't reply, just slowly unzip his fly. He sucks in a sharp breath, holds it as you push your hand past his waistband, let your fingers wrap around his hardening cock. It feels large, growing harder under your touch- twitches slightly as your run your thumb over the head.

You tug his waistband down, letting his cock spring free. Even in the dim pulsating streetlight you can see just how pretty it is- the cherry-red head is already swollen as you brush your thumb past it again, veins noticeable against the pale shaft. He's clearly cut back some of the hair, it's kempt- that surprises you. He lets go of your thigh, wraps his hand around the wheel tight, trying to keep his focus on the road ahead, his jaw clenching.

You lean forward, let your lips wrap around the head. You feel the car jerk, a stuttering brake as he pulls it straight again, let's go of the breath he's been holding. You push your head down slowly, let your tongue glide across his shaft as you move your hand down the the base, grip it tighter.

He lets go of the wheel, his hand flying to the back of your head- you half think he's trying to stop you until he starts pushing down gently, guiding you into taking his length.

"Goddamn- you're full of surprises, aren't y'-" It almost sounds like admiration the way it drips out rough.

You sink down until your lips are pressed against your fist, his cock just teasing the back of your throat, feel as his abdomen tightens next to you, a soft grunt from above. You swallow, suck in your cheeks as you start to bob your head, lips shielding teeth- still pressed against your hand as you stroke him.

The car jerks in rhythm with you, speeds up when you do, slows at the same pace. You know he doesn't realize he's doing it, his feet tweaking on the peddles like a beg. The silence is filled by obscene sounds, wet as your mouth works over him, tongue dancing over the head, lips sliding slick down his length. You let saliva pool in your mouth, seep slowly through your fingers. Hot and fast and dirty.

It feels good. Not honor-roll no-teasing engagement-by-graduation good. A different kind of good. A messy kind.

He knots his fingers into your hair. You catch a -fuck- between quiet mutters, like he's reciting a prayer he can't let anyone hear. His hips start to rut up against you as he pushes you lower, keeps his cock hitting the back of your throat as you choke through the feeling. You feel tears pricking just behind your eyes, threatening to spill if you don't let up. They well up as you bob your head faster, tighten you fist, let him fill your mouth over and over. You want him to ruin your mascara, to ruin you.

"Jesus, doll, you gotta quit-" he laughs, tugs at your hair, pulling your mouth off of him as he shakes his head with a smile, "-do'y know how embarrassing it'd be if I come before we even see a bed?"

You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, your hand on your top. He glances back over at you with a sleek smile, eyes darker than before, like you've passed a test, or maybe just a look of surprise you can't quite understand. He pushes his cock back into his boxers, the bulge still obvious- too big to do up his fly. He leaves it undone.

He pulls off of the road into the parking lot, face set as he stops the car. The motel is clearly designed for Stanford visitors, the cartoon graduation cap on the sign a sharp juxtaposition to tonights plans. You wonder how many one night stands these rooms have seen- probably far less than Dean has.

You don't give him a chance to open the door for you, you slide out even before he does. It doesn't look like he was going to anyway, heading towards the motel with only a small glance back to make sure you're following, his key swinging over his finger. Only when he gets to the room does he resume his gentleman act, opening the door and letting you step in first. You slip past him, feel the heat of his body through yours as you do.

It suddenly feels clumsy again, like you're not completely sure why you're here. Of course you know why you're here, but it's also odd, almost two years of playing the perfect good girl, and it takes a five minute conversation with Dean for you to forget it all. To follow him to a motel. To give him a blowjob while he drives. To smile at him as he follows you into the room.

He senses your uncertainty and smiles back, steps forward to rest a hand on your waist, looking down at you with a soft look on his face, "Y'okay?"

You nod, "Yeah I-" you think for a moment, "Was that-" you gesture your head back to the door, the car- you don't know what you're trying to ask, "-I don't normally do that."

"Y'don't say." He chuckles lightly, teasing you just a little. He reaches into his pocket, emptying it out onto the small table- his wallet, a bag of pills, a pack of smokes, a couple bags of weed. He catches you looking, and steps back, takes off his jacket and throws it on top of the pile, hiding them away.

"I need to- uh- freshen up-" You speak quietly, glance towards the bathroom. He nods, turns away as you walk in.

You look at yourself in the mirror. Your mascara's smudged under your eyes, only slightly but you can still tell. You swipe it away with your index fingers, neatening yourself back out. Your clothes are crumpled, disheveled- you go to smooth them out before thinking better of yourself.

You know what this is- he knows what this is. There's no use pretending, no use you acting innocent and him acting like a gentleman. You pull your top off over your head, drop your skirt down your legs. You fold them both, place them on the bathroom counter, put your heels on top. You look back in the mirror, smiling at your matching pink underwear- right on theme.

You'd put them on expecting Chance to take them off. But this isn't a look meant for the Chance's of the world- the bra pushing your tits right up, the skimpy thong extenuating your ass- no this is a look meant for men like Dean to ruin.

You step back out. Dean's sat on the small chair, he doesn't look up, focused on the joint in his hands, rolling it carefully between his fingers. He lifts it up, swipes his tongue along the paper, pressing it closed. He finally glances up at you, double takes as he splutters out a choke.

This isn't the kind of reaction you can fake, the awe dancing across his face as he takes you in, the way he blinks hard to try and pull himself together. His jaw hangs open. It takes him a moment to readjust himself, he shifts awkwardly- his fly is still down, bulge still obvious.

"Jesus- You're something else-" He sucks in a breath, wide eyes still dancing over you. You smile, you kind of like seeing him on the backfoot. He lifts up the joint in his hand, gestures it towards you, "D'you still wanna?"

You nod, take a seat on the bed, opposite him. He smiles back at you, lifts it up between his lips and lights it. He takes a breath, gets the embers burning, then pulls it back out, lets out the smoke without reacting. He stands up, closing the gap between you.

"Have you smoked before?" He lifts an eyebrow, holding back on handing it to you.

"Yeah- not since-" you cut yourself off, "A couple times, yeah."

"You really are full of surprises." He chuckles, finally passes it to you, "This stuff is strong, you gotta take it slow-"

You pull it up to your mouth, take a deep breath in. It burns into you, hits the back of your throat in an instant. For a moment you try to hold back a cough, then you choke it out, the smoke spluttering in front of your face.

He chuckles again, releases the joint from between your fingers, "I told y' it's strong-"

You feel that prickling in your eyes again, the smoke and the choking making them sting. He smiles, takes another puff as he glances back down at your body, lingers on your tits for a moment longer than you both know he should.

He smiles, soft, "I feel like I'm wearing too many clothes-"

"So take them off." You smile back, playing your innocent part.

He hands you the joint back -"Slow breath, okay?"- and begins tugging at his own clothes. He pulls his top up over his head, you take another go at the joint as you watch him. It's smoother this time, the smoke tangles into your mouth like moss, the burn in your throat feels more rewarding. His chest is strong, shoulders broad. He's got scars across his skin, old and etched deep. You don't hide your look as you watch his muscles shift, his shoulders flexing as he goes to pull his pants down his legs.

The third breath feels good. Tugs your lungs, tingles in your mind. You can tell you're starting to feel it, that little high you've missed so much. You look at his legs, thick thighs, muscular calves- you land back on his boxers, the bulge just tempting you to reach out.

He steps back up to you, you hand the joint back and he smiles, clocking your slightly glossed state. He slumps down on the bed, his back against the headboard, legs stretched out in front of him as he gestures his head wordlessly for you to join him.

You shift, move towards him until you're able to straddle him, put your legs either side of him. You can feel his cock through the fabric of your underwear, pressed right against your desperate cunt. He doesn't look as needy as you feel, but his face still twitches only slightly as you settle on top of him.

His hand reaches up to your hip, rests there as he looks up at you, then he lifts the joint, presses it between your lips. His fingers linger there.

Then he moves, his thumb rests on your chin, finger hooked under it, "You're dangerous when you wanna be, aren't y'?"

You don't reply, just take another drag of the joint.

He nods, like that's your response, thinks for a moment, "You ever had sex before?"

You choke on the smoke, stuck between a laugh and confusion, "Jesus, do I really look that innocent?"

"Yeah. Yeah, you do." He laughs, pulls the joint from your hand, takes his own toke. "You ever had good sex?"

You shrug. Sex has never been something you've thought much about, a means to an end more than anything. It's fun, sure, but the kind of fun that lasts twenty minutes and never quite hits the spot the way you want it to. You're not sure if that's an answer he wants to hear.

"If y'dont know that means you haven't." He hands it back to you, runs his thumb over your bottom lip, "That's fuckin' criminal. A body like that and it's never been treated the way it deserves? No wonder you wanted to get away from that shit party-"

"Hey-" you warn, stern, "- I helped plan that party."

He's only half listening, "Bet no one back there has seen this side of you- you're hot when your makeup's all smudged and you've got a joint in your mouth."

You take another drag, longer, let the feeling really burn into your veins. He nods, entranced.

"Bet no one knows how good these tits look-" he drags his finger down your neck, across your collarbone, just teasing his fingertip across your breast, the edge of your bra. Your breath cuts, you keep your eyes on him as he draws patterns across your skin, "-Bet no one knows you let men fuck your mouth when they drive."

You shift, arousal flooding through you. You feel your pussy clench around nothing, he clearly feels it too, looks up at you with a surprised smile.

"That it, huh?" The grasp on your hip tightens, fingers curling into your skin, "You don't want a well-mannered man, do y'? You want a man who talks to you dirty? Talks to you like y'deserve? Like this body deserves?"

You nod. The joint's almost finished, you see him eyeing it. You hand it back to him. He takes one last drag, let's it burn down to the filter, then he leans over and stubs it out on the nightstand.

"Bet they think you're a fuckin' angel-" He hooks his finger back under your chin, pulls your face forward as he leans towards you, speaking soft, "-you wanna see heaven, pretty girl?"

"Yes-"

His lips crash against yours, hungry as he reaches his hands up to your cheeks, messy on your jaw. He bites your bottom lip, sucks it between his teeth for a moment, your mouths colliding.

Then he moves, one hand on your cheek one on your waist as he flips you under him, his body landing on top of you, pinning you against the mattress. You gasp and feel him smile against you as he drags his mouth lower, wet and messy as he starts to kiss your neck.

You arch into him, your body pressing against his, your tits against his skin, his cock still pressed to your underwear. You grind against him slightly, desperate for friction, your pussy still clenching around nothing. He groans, the vibrations thick against your skin as he trails down to your tits, let's his tongue play across your skin.

You feel his hand shift between your thighs, dragging up the inside until he's pressed against your underwear. You rut against him, the slight pressure on your clit as he gently circles it.

He hooks his fingers round the fabric, the tips only just jutting into your soaked folds. The second he touches you, you feel how wet you are, your whole body reacting instinctively to him. He looks back up at you with that surprised admiration again, like he wants to boast about how aroused he's got you.

But he doesn't, you know he's too focused on making you feel good, on proving he can make you feel good. He pushes his fingers into you- two- it fills you instantly, makes your mouth hang open in a needy moan. You reach out to his shoulder, wrap your hand around it to steady you. You feel his muscles flex under you as he starts to thrust his hand, fast and needy, just pushing into you with a kind of desperation.

He moves quick, drags his fingers out of you as they wrap around your thigh, still wet and sticky against your skin as he kisses down your stomach, your pelvis, your cunt. A light kiss just above your clit, like he's asking for permission but doesn't wait for an answer. He pushes his tongue into you- you moan, a guilty stuttered moan- your fingers lacing into his hair, tugging at him. He breaks apart for a moment, drags your panties down your legs quick, then he's back, mouth on you.

You can feel his cheeks curl into a grin as he starts lapping you up, pushing his tongue through your folds, wrapped around your clit. It's like he can't keep focused on just one thing, the moment you start rutting against him he moves again, changes what he's doing. He's dragging it out, making sure you don't peak too soon.

It feels different to anything you've felt before- you don't know if it's the weed or just him. It feels more fluid, like it's flowing through every part of your body- from your pussy into your tensed up thighs, your tightening stomach, your arching back. You feel it in your head, dizzy and delicious.

You feel as he breaks away, looks up at you, that smile still plastered, "Play with your tits-"

You hesitate for a moment, lift an eyebrow with clear confusion.

"-They're great fuckin' tits, but I'm a little distracted down here- let me see how good they look in your hands-" He presses his tongue against your clit, pushing his fingers into you again, his eyes still trained on you.

You swallow hard, trail your hands over your stomach slowly, up towards your breasts.

"Take y'bra off, honey-" he chuckles.

You shift your body, awkwardly contorting yourself to unclasp your bra, slide it off down your arms. His eyes go wide as he slowly starts to thrust his fingers, flicks his tongue over your clit.

You pull your hands back up grab your tits, push them together for him. He lets out a sharp breath, watching everything closely. You tease yourself, trail your fingers along your skin, across your nipples, let out a small shiver at your own touch. You pinch your nipple, twist it between your fingers, giving him a show.

He speeds up his thrusting, your movements only spurring him on as he focuses his tongue on your clit, flicking against it rapidly. You feel your orgasm rising quick, your hips rutting against him instinctively, desperate for his mouth.

He sucks on your clit and your whole body arches out, twisting in giddy pleasure. His pupil swallowed eyes swell with desire, a need to see you fall apart under him.

He does it again and your body snaps. You squeeze your eyes shut as you come, let out a loud and desperate moan. Your mind spins, filling with a syrupy pleasure- sweet and sickly and gorging. He keeps pushing into you, keeps his tongue lapping you up, until you feel like you've reached the point of obliteration- his other hand tightening around your thigh to keep you steady, keep you from moving away.

Only when your legs start twitching does he let up, slowly moves his mouth off of you, dragging his fingers out until you're achingly empty. You whimper quietly and he smiles, kisses your thigh.

"Y'fuckin' gorgeous-" he mumbles against you, that same secret he can't hold onto.

He shifts away, standing up so you can see his boxers again, the way his cock is strained against the fabric, the soaked patch of precum. He pulls them down his legs, lets his cock finally spring free. You look down at it, desperate to reach out, needy to touch it.

"Y'keep looking at me like that and I'm not gonna last long-" he laughs, holding your hip gently to get you to turn over for him.

You follow his movements, pulling the small amount of strength left in your legs until you're kneeling on the bed, your hands against the mattress. You feel as he climbs back in the bed behind you, his finger trailing down your back slow as he takes in the sight.

Then his cock's being pressed between your soaked and swollen folds, just carefully, enough that you can feel him. He pushes in slowly, clearly he knows how big he is, just inching his cock in as your pussy stretches around him. You wince slightly, suck in a ragged breath as you get used to his size. You can tell he's trying to be careful, but you have to ball your fingers into the sheets just to stop yourself from whimpering again.

"Y'okay?" He murmurs quietly, wrapping his hands around your hips.

"Y-yeah- you're just big is all." You laugh hesitantly, feeling his thumb rub against your skin.

"Relax baby- breathe real slow- y'taking me so good-" he slowly starts to move, pulls his cock out of you and then pushes it back in, slow enough that you can feel every inch of him fill you.

It only takes a few thrusts for you to break, for your arms to give and your body to melt as you start feeling the pleasure flowing through you. You collapse your body against the mattress, keep your ass up in the air as your face presses against the pillow. He speeds up, rocking his hips into you, hitting that sweet spot as your fingers twist into the sheets.

"Goddamn you're tight-" His voice is a groan, thick and hungry, "-it's like your pussy's fuckin' beggin' for me-"

He pistons into you with a relentlessness you could only beg for, brutal but steady, making sure he fills you on every hard thrust. His hands tighten around your hips, pulling you onto his cock in time with him, a soft grunt out of his throat on every movement.

"F-fuck sweetheart, ain't so innocent with your ass up and your pussy full of cock, are y'?"

You let out a whining moan, so full of him, your body on fire with the feeling. You're delirious, high and hot, desperate for him. Your body aches for more, too much and not enough all at once. He moves faster, frenzied, still filling you- but messier. You can tell he's just as needy as you, the way he tugs at your hips, his breath shallow and sharp.

"'S like y'greedy for it- that right, honey? You greedy? All for this cock?"

You whimper against the pillow, jaw hanging open, "Y-yeah-"

"Such a good girl, all pristine and pure- you wanna come? Want me to make you?"

"P-please- Dean-"

He slams into you harder, you feel as his body hits into your ass, your pussy full of him, his grip on your hips throbbing through your body.

"Come f'me-"

You feel it hit you, white hot and sudden- your orgasm ripping through your body. You bury your face into the pillow to hide your sounds- you can't tell if you're moaning or screaming, your whole body aflame with pleasure.

He doesn't relent, just keeps pounding into you, pushing you through your orgasm and beyond, his hand moving to your back to push you against the mattress. You whimper out, too overwhelmed to do anything else, your body limp with exhaustion.

For a second he stops, you think maybe he's about to come- but then he pulls out, carefully rolls you onto your back. Then his cocks back inside you- slower, dragging through you, still deep, still unrelenting, but it's careful and deliberate. He reaches out to your clit, circles it with a delicate pressure. You can't tell if it's your last orgasm still dying, or a new one starting to rise, but you feel it deep in your gut, a desperate need.

"S'too much-" All you're able to get out, your body still arching into him, moving in time with every thrust, pushing him deeper.

"Just one more sweetheart- that's all I want- just wanna see your face when you come-"

You nod, unable to say anything, your jaw ajar, your eyelids hooded.

"That feel good?"

You go to speak, but no words come out, just a desperate whine.

"All fucked out, huh?"

He leans down, his whole body pressed against yours, his cock still pushing into you slow and considered. He brushes his thumb against your cheek, wiping away whatever smudged makeup he can see as he leans down to kiss your forehead. He trails his kisses down, light against you, your cheek, down to your ear. He nips at your earlobe, just slightly, enough to get you to lean into him.

His voice is quiet, barely over a whisper, "All pretty and ruined-"

He kisses along your jaw, stumbling over his own actions just to taste you, just to touch you. His hand trails over your face lightly, cups your cheek, holds you carefully. He moves his thumb across your lower lip, kisses you gently.

"-all f'me."

You nod, let out a quiet mewl, all you're able to do. You want to come so bad, your body so full of need, but it feels too much, like you can't quite break.

"Y'doing so good- look so good- so fuckin' wrecked-"

You wrap your hands around his shoulders, feeling him flex under you, grounding you to his actions. They're strong and powerful, moving with every thrust.

He kisses you again, staring down at you with those blown eyes, "Show me what it looks like when an angel reaches heaven, sweetheart- I just gotta see-"

You fall apart, a slow and foggy orgasm, like you're wrapped in him, wrapped in pleasure and softness. It pushes through you, through your limbs and your mind. You squeeze your eyes shut, your mouth pressed against his jaw to stop you from being too loud, just whimpering against his skin as you collapse, every cell filled with gratification.

A moment later he pulls out, jerking against his own hand fast as his cum spills out of him, streaked across your stomach, hot and dripping. You can't do anything but sink into the mattress, your mind and body too exhausted to move. He stays above you, just breathing heavy, his eyes still locked onto your face, a smile poking at the corner of his mouth.

He finally pulls away, sits up. He takes another shaky breath, pulling himself back together, and then stands up.

He looks down at you, and lets himself smile completely. He pulls his fingers up, makes a square with them as he closes one eye, looking through it, "I should fuckin' frame you-"

You giggle lightly, your head finally coming back to you, your body still stuck to the sheets. You hear him walk off to the bathroom, the sound of a running tap. Then he walks back in, takes one last look at you before he runs the cool damp cloth over your stomach, wicking away the image he enjoyed so much. He throws the towel back into the bathroom as he sighs, pulling himself together.

He sits back on the bed, dragging your limp body up, half on top of him, your head on his chest, your arm wrapped around him. He keeps his arm around your shoulder, holding you steady, as he slowly starts to drag his finger over your skin. It tingles and dances, the feeling soft and warm.

It takes a while for you both to fall back into reality, your breathing evening out, your bodies sinking into one another. He shuffles down lower, keeps you on top of him as he holds one hand in front of his face, chuckling lightly.

"Fuck-" he laughs, drops his hand again, kissing your forehead, "-I'm so high. I really can't drive back tonight- you okay staying here?"

You nod, smiling against him. He drags his finger down your cheek, hooking it under your chin until you're looking at him.

"Y'okay, pretty girl?"

"Yeah- that was-" you blink hard, look away from him, relax your head on his chest properly, comfortably, "-Jesus, I'm so high."

He laughs, drags his hand down your body. It's warm, caring, just his fingers playing across your skin, drawing lines and patterns, feeling the way you shift under him.

For a while you're both just silent, falling into tentative sleep. Then he moves again, relaxing fully against the mattress, pulling you further on top of him.

You look up at him, a weak smile on your face, "Sam doesn't know you're here?"

He smiles back, it's a question he clearly want expecting, but he doesn't seem to mind, "He doesn't need to, that's not why I visit-"

"Then why do you?"

"We ain't that kind of family." His full answer. You wish you didn't know what he means, but of course you do. You know this kind of family far too well. He closes his eyes, his breathing slow, "Y'younger than Sammy, yeah?"

"I'm a sophomore, one year below."

He nods, "You know him well?"

"Not really, we've studied together a few times. He's good at that stuff- knows how to explain shit when I don't get it."

He smiles, like he's proud. A moment passes, then he speaks again, "You knew a lot about him, where he grew up, his brother's name-"

You think for a moment, "He was interesting. Got all excited about the old books in the library. The more interesting someone is, the more of them I remember."

Dean chuckles lightly, pulls you in just a little tighter, "You gonna remember me?

You smile, "Oh, I don't think I'm ever gonna forget you."

x♡x♡x

Asked to tag: @starringrcll | @bitchinwallaby | @mauvvie68 | @mellowyellowdaydream | @kiana1387jina | @matae-marie | @unicvnthalle

Just comment/message to let me know if you'd like a tag :)

[lacydaydream-deactivated2026032]

mdni. 18+

pornstar!dean who’s reputation truly precedes him. in the adult film industry, dean winchester is a household name. he fucks like a god with a filthy mouth and giant cock. you would be lying if you said you didn’t drool over his videos. his latest, “breeding my bunny girl”, had your hand slipping beneath the covers and between your thighs.

pornstar!dean who has been with everyone under the sun. he never had a set type in any of his work. he’s been with every size, color, and gender. and each time he always treats them like they’re the only person in the room— like it’s not just a way to make rent. his hands are always on his partner, whispering dirty secrets into their ear before letting the mic pick anything up.

pornstar!dean who’s over the moon to meet you. you were nervous because of his stardom and your recent career in the industry. but dean walked onto set in his fluffy robe, met your eyes, and grinned like a mother fucker. “prettier in person, sweetheart.” he spoke gently, caressing your hand and kissing the top of it. his eyes wandered over your figure, appreciating you and offering a wink.

pornstar!dean who’s actually a sweetheart in his own way. he tells you he respects the hell out of you but in the same breath tells you he’d gonna fuck you like he thinks you’re scum.

pornstar!dean who makes sure you’re comfortable. before the scene even starts, the two of you are talking about anything and everything. he revealed that he picked up porn videos as a way to help pay for his younger brother’s college. the sentiment made you feel so close to him— which is probably what made the on-screen chemistry so prevalent. right before the director calls action, he whispers low into your ear, “tell me if you wanna stop or you don’t like somethin’. yeah?”

pornstar!dean who’s a cocky bastard. his cock is shoved all the way inside you, tip bullying your cervix as he grinds slowly into you. there are tears streaming down your cheeks as the pleasure builds in your abdomen, heat rushing through your veins. “gonna cum already?” he mocks, hand slipping down to rub lazy circles on your clit with his thumb. when you babble and whimper, he grins into the nape of your neck. “uh!” he parrots, tone condescending and ruthless. “words, sweetheart. tell me who’s beatin’ this pussy up.”

pornstar!dean who’s not performative at all. every word, every noise, every movement he makes eminates from who he is. he’s finely tuned to how your body works within minutes. the man knew exactly where your bundle of nerves was located.

pornstar!dean who knows how to work the camera. with certain angles, he makes his movements look far rougher than they actually are. during a scene, your head is against the wall with his cock shoved down your throat. dean takes your hair gently and weaves his fingers through, then each trust of his hips he bangs his knuckles against the wall. on camera, it looks like your head is getting put through the damn drywall. but in reality, it was much less painful and far more enjoyable.

pornstar!dean who takes ample care of his body. he goes to the gym every day to look and feel his best. every crease and sharp edge of his body looked to be cut from marble. his muscles were defined and bulky— a modern statue of David brought to life.

pornstar!dean who’s a gentleman. “where do you want it, baby?” he roughs out, hips snapping unevenly against yours. “where d’ya want this cum?” when you answer him, a meek squeak with a muffled ‘inside’, he moans lowly. “dirty fuckin’ girl. s’perfect.”

pornstar!dean who wipes your tears away when the scene ends. he gently pulls your head to his chest to paw at your tears, whispering sweet nothings as you both cool down. “did s’good. you’re my best girl, you hear?” he’ll press a kiss to your temple and rub your back before the crew comes in with robes.

pornstar!dean who texts you a few days after filming. “just accidentally jerked off to our scene. twice. let me see you again. I’ll bring every food and condoms. whatever my girl wants first.”

pornstar!dean who specifically requests to film with you again when your schedules match up. he’s not subtle at all— he’ll text you after wrapping up a scene with someone else, “wish it was you I got to cum all over :(”

[makeamericapsychoagain-deactiva]

Hii, I absolutely loveee your blog<33 And I was wondering if I could send in a request!

As we all know, Sam is a big guy (with a big dick) but lately I’ve thinking a lot about how he would handle it if his partner couldn’t take it or how he would make them take it etc etc. (size-kink-ish) Your fics are incredible btw! Xx ♡

⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 CROSS MY HEART, CROSS MY FINGERS .ᐟ

cw: 18+, size kink(ish), unprotected sex. dirty talk.

"ha—ah! sammy!" you gasp. he gives another experimental circle of your clit, your mouth gaping into a fucked-out 'o'.

"c'mon," he mutters, his dick still buried halfway inside of the slick, tight walls of your cunt that was squeezing his thickness. "loosen up f'me, yeah? 'm proud of you."

his voice was rough with restraint—and you could only guess he was trying his hardest not to slam the rest of his cock into the homage of your tight, sopping cunt and make you go dumb.

his thumb keeps moving on your clit, as he shallowly thrusts his hips—just enough for you to feel the slide of his cock shallow inside of you, a shuddery moan leaving your mouth.

"relax," he breathes out. "please."

"mm—hah, i'm tryin', uh, to." you choke out, still feeling the split and slide of sam moving inside of you. "i, uh—" you cut yourself off.

"ready f' more?" he asks, his hazel eyes looking for discomfort in your half-lidded eyes.

you nod, letting out a breathy whine. "please, sammy."

he thrusts more—just an inch deeper, feeling your tight walls quiver around his length—making fireworks explode behind his eyes. your sweet cunt was so warm.

your eyes roll back in your head, as sam's hand works faster on your clit, making your walls quiver so deliciously over his cock.

"you're so b—big, sammy." you moan.

"yeah? I know, baby." he replies. "want me deeper?"

"yes!" you gasp.

he slips all of himself in, your legs quivering around his waist, your walls clamping down on him, delicious pressure building rapidly in your lower belly. he gave an experimental thrust—dragging himself out to his tip, then splitting you open again—watching your cunt get stretched around his cock. you let out shaky moans that could only wake up half of the motel residents—but sam doesn’t seem to care. he thrusts slowly, watching your walls split just for him.

his smart, hunter girlfriend getting all cock dumb for him. getting caked in slick and wet, stretching herself open for his biiig cock.

he gives another deep roll of his hips, making your moans go all high-pitched—before he realised you were gonna come with just a few thrusts.

“ha-ah! sammy, i’m g’nna cum!” you whine, before your walls give a particularly hard clench—and you’re fucking gone.

your back is arching up, your cunt contracting and squeezing around sam’s big cock. you’re so wet, tight, oh, and slippery around him. he’s buried so deep inside of you, and the sound of your moans—the feel combined—being so deep inside of the girl that was struggling to take him—

he feels stars explode beneath his skin as a pleasant feeling shudders through him—and he’s emptying his hot load inside of you. he can feel it—your walls still quivering around his dick as his load spreads inside of you, hot and deep.

good lord.

[semiautosantigold]

god, January has gotta be the month I reach flow state bc the ideas just keep coming like idk what.

[hrtsoldierboy]

Let fictional men be bad at fucking!!! Let reader teach them!!!!!

[hadesrise]

## one true love !!

summary──── ben feels true love with you, his enemy, and finds himself able to break from the toxic masculinity he surrounded himself with.

pairings──── soldier boy / benjamin x anti-hero!male reader

warnings──── nsfw content, porn with too much feelings, fluff, slight angst, foul language, probably (very definitely) ooc soldier boy, top!reader, sub!bottom!ben, gentle love, praise kink, hair pulling, creampie, fingering, unprotected sex, overstimulation, vibrator, pet names ( love, baby, pup, etc. ), short oral ( r. receiving ), love-making, mating press, missionary, riding, aftercare, light D/S dynamics, pillow talk, a lot of vulnerability, ben proposes to reader unexpectedly, enemies in forbidden love, internalised homophobia, morally grey!reader, possessiveness, homophobic slurs, canon typical misogyny, reader’s anti-hero name is lucifer, reader has magical powers

author’s note──── i might’ve made him too soft and vulnerable, so forewarning that he doesn’t show much of his asshole side in this fic. the ooc warning already says much, i guess?

MINORS DNI !!

Peaceful jazz music and well dressed crowd fills the grand hall decorated in gold curtains, men and women from different wealthy families flaunting around their riches with drinks in hand. Adorned in nothing but expensive attires that feeds off of the poor were most guests that have been invited to celebrate another success of Vought-American with a superhero movie that starred its own team, Payback, while the heroes themselves remained in their pretty little costumes for the publicity and fame.

Cameras, photographers, and journalists lurked in the corner section of the hall, where they’ve been assigned to fulfil their destiny of capturing significant moments that are interesting enough to be written on headlines or shown on television.

Nights like this were when Soldier Boy wanted to beat the shit out of Vought employees for their incapability in making celebrations entertaining. The lack of excitement and chaos infuse Ben with excessive boredom that just gives him the urge to shoot himself in the head, all of its professionalism becoming nothing but a burden and straight up pain in the ass. He’s been hardly enjoying the night, having to put up with Crimson Countess attached to his hip at all times to keep appearances, which he admits is worse than fucking a loose cunt. It didn’t make him feel better that Stan fucking Edgar was watching, making sure things are under control.

The jazz music suddenly stops short with a loud screeching sound that has everyone covering their ears in pain, startled murmurs filling the air as all eyes turned to the stage where a famous band stood, confusion also plastered across their faces. One of them repeatedly presses down on the piano’s key, frowning when it does nothing as if it lost its function all of a sudden. Sensing the panic slowly rise among guests, Stan opens his mouth to speak, only for his words to die in his throat when the lights begin to flicker.

“You know, I’m quite displeased to not have received an invitation.” Deep, resonant, husky voice littered with confidence and cockiness erupt out of nowhere as the flickering lights return to normal, an utterly familiar figure making themselves known.

Gasps, of either excitement or fear, falls from everyone’s lips to your powerful presence that almost immediately caused a shift in atmosphere. Soldier Boy’s breath hitched, feeling his throat dry as he cleared his throat and swallowed.

You don’t miss the quick look of surprise and panic flashing across Stan’s face before they were hidden behind his casual mask of greedy businessman, making the corner of your lips twitch up.

“You’re simply not welcome here, Lucifer.” The man uttered with barely contained irritation despite his best efforts to remain calm, spitting your antihero name — given by, not Vought, but the public themselves — in distaste.

Amusement emerge on your expression, completely unbothered by the antagonistic perspective Stan sees you with.

There’s an underlying overconfidence and arrogance to the way you hold yourself, a man who clearly knows how influential and threatening your own existence is and isn’t even apologetic for it. It wasn’t just for a show — you knew you mattered, knew exactly your worth, and didn’t hide behind the fake persona of a beloved public figure that pretends they’re enjoying a single bit of what they’re doing. Your ego and pride seemingly rivals that of Soldier Boy’s yet yours come more naturally, like you were born with it without the need to develop them in amidst of your life to trick yourself into feeling more relevant. You held charisma, a charm that seems to pull people closer to you despite the dangerous, deceitful, fucking jackass attitude you had that’s supposed to be driving them away. It makes Ben want to either punch your face or suck your cock like a fag whore.

“Fair enough,” You shrugged. “But I certainly make parties more fun. You could learn a couple or two from me.”

Stan’s eye twitches in annoyance at your arrogance; it’s much worse that he can’t use anything to stomp on it because your ego wasn’t fragile like the others. While most men, supe or not, wrap their self-importance in toxic masculinity in order to feel superior than they actually are, you were fully comfortable with yourself. Your emotional capacity was extremely high that developed you to become invincible against criticism or rejection. He can attempt to hurt your feelings, manipulate you, use your own ego against you all he wants — none of it will force you to surrender or submit no matter what because you, quite simply, loved yourself too much to be under power hungry maniacs.

When Stan can’t seem to muster a snarky remark, you smirk and invite yourself in, walking further into the grand hall as you snap your fingers, the white bright lights turning into colourful disco lights with your magic.

You stared at the band members on stage, eyes glowing red, and forcefully overtake their minds to play an upbeat party worth music instead of the boring jazz they did. It’s not that you dislike jazz music, it’s peculiar and beautiful on its own, you’re just not really fond of formal parties where everyone’s required to be in their good behaviours, barely having the time of their life if not to shove their riches down less wealthy people’s throat, which you don’t particularly find amusing or fun at all.

It seems to excite the guests, some of them even beginning to bop their heads to the catchy rhythm, moving their previously still bodies along with the beats. Energy surges through them, life revealing itself within their eyes that was filled with misery before you barged in.

“Let go of the fucking formality, ladies and gentlemen.” You grinned wide with your arms spread open to your sides. “It’s time for a true fun party!”

Ben was in awe when all cheered at your declaration, how quick you were able to turn this entire place into your own playground despite the hosts — authorities — being present, how much of a natural you were at gaining people’s faith and attention without doing more than show up and be yourself.

It should be making him envious; he’s doing all these heroism, model, actor bullshit and hiding behind a perfect macho-man façade to be loved and paid attention to for fuck’s sake, and yet it’s so easy for you to bend people at your own will just by being yourself. He should be pissed as he always did when others get the spotlight more than him, but Ben couldn’t find it in himself to.

How the fuck is he going to be pissed when you look so disgustingly hot doing all of it?

“He’s fucking doing it again,” Countess seethes through gritted teeth, glaring at you. Her little tug on his arm snaps him out of daze as he shifts his gaze to her. “Taking all the attention away from you. With the rate he’s going, I wouldn’t be surprised if he interrupts everything you’re in.”

Ben had to pretend to irritably clench his jaw, and smiled with sarcasm. “As if I’d let him. Fucking asshole needs to be put in his place.”

He knew you heard him when the corner of your lips pulled up in a smirk, one of your brows raising to shoot him a challenging look. It sends a thrill down Ben’s spine as he scowled, giving you a death glare that everyone sees for it is; rage, hatred, despise.

“Pleasure to see you here, Soldier Boy. Crimson Countess.” You greet in a feigned enthusiasm, swiftly taking a cocktail from the waiter that just passed, and approach them in all your glory.

“Fuck you,” Soldier Boy quickly snarled as Countess spits, “Get the fuck away from us.”

Amusement instantly cross your face, nearly making both of them want to punch you. “So much for greeting lovebirds in clown costumes,” You dejectedly say with a hand over your chest for dramatic effect, in contrast to the mocking way in which you spoke. “C’mon, I just made this boring, useless party worth your precious little time. At least now you can stop being a pussy hiding behind an awfully constructed television personality.”

That strikes a nerve in Soldier Boy as his face hardened and a cold look appeared, stepping forward warningly, “I’d choose my next fucking words wisely if I were you.” Countess tugs his arm in a nervous manner while scanning their surroundings, taking notice of people watching your interaction.

You meet his glare with a calm yet daring look and leaned closer, “I wouldn’t. I know I can beat you.” Your eyes glowed in red once again as you grinned confidently.

Ben’s hand twitched, but before he could make a move, a woman approached you from behind and tugged on your elbow, interrupting the little rivalry you had going on. “I’m sorry, do you mind if we dance and have fun for a bit?” She shyly but bravely asked you, not even sparing Soldier Boy a glance.

An unimpressed look flashes in your eyes that only Ben took notice of, the subtle annoyance to the woman for cutting into your rather hostile conversation. You, however, plastered on an emotionless smile within a split second, not giving anyone the chance to see through you. “I’ll lead the way,” You barely looked at him before walking off with her to the centre of the hall where bodies swayed to the beat.

It takes everything in Ben not to square up and make a mess of this party when you started dancing with her, your body dangerously close to hers as she stares at you with a look that made him want to strangle her slim neck. As if you’re a divine sculpture created by Gods, like you’re the entire universe, most precious being to ever exist in this planet, like she knew everything about you when she, in fact, absolutely did not. But he does.

And Ben knows he’ll be screaming your name, holding you impossibly close to him, digging his nails onto your back as you grind into him — everything she wished you’ll do to her — when all of this shit show is over.

At the end of the day, no slut or pussy fucker would come home to you but him; you’ve chosen him despite the countless amount of people throwing themselves pathetically at you, and Ben will make sure he’ll forever be the only one who does.

Lewd squelching, sucking sounds fill the dimly lit bedroom of your home as the stench of sex and arousal surround the air, more prominent due to your and Ben’s enhanced senses. You sat comfortably against the headboard of your shared bed with Ben in between your legs as he sucks and slurps your cock, taking it as far as he can in his mouth and gagging. Tiny muffled moans or groans escape him occasionally, hips grinding against the mattress to stimulate his own aching dick while the vibrator you bought for him nestled deep inside his prepped hole.

“You love my fuckin’ cock so much, don’t you?” You chuckled hoarsely, almost degrading, and Ben shudders. “It’s alright, love. m’not goin’ anywhere.” Your fingers tread through his hair, gently scraping your nails against his scalp, making him groan as his hips stutter.

Maintaining eye contact with you, Ben inhales a deep breath through his nose before taking your cock further down his throat, tears gathering in his eyes when he nearly gagged. A genuine smile adorns your face when he looks at you expectantly, the most beautiful green eyes you’d ever seen holding desperation and self-doubt. Pleading expression that he shows only to you.

“You want me to praise you, pup? Call you good boy?” He whines in response — God, that fucking sound you know he’d rather die than let anyone else hear. Ben doesn’t have any idea how much it affects you, the fact that you’re the only one whom he allows a vulnerable side of him show.

Realising he has to earn what he yearns for, Ben gently wraps his hand around the base of your cock where it didn’t fit and starts to bob his head. You moaned softly, throwing your head back; the sight being such a blessing to Ben’s eyes that makes his own cock throb and needy. He swirls his tongue on the underside of your shaft, his free hand gripping your thigh for support.

“Doin’ so good, love. You’ve gotten better at this,” You cooed, petting his hair and gently thrusting up into his throat. Ben closed his eyes, a blissful look appearing on his face as he relaxed and allowed you to move instead.

The trust and faith Ben has in you makes something explode within your chest, heart swelling in love and adoration at your troubled yet adorable partner.

Building a healthy and trustful relationship with him was more difficult than anything you’ve ever done before, considering the absolute bigotry his father forcefully fed into him and all the unresolved issues he had with himself. Despite the tough and harsh exterior he constantly put on, you had seen right through him when you first met — those broken spirit that yearned to be loved or needed by people hiding behind his douche, Soldier Boy persona, a man that his imbecile of a father always wanted him to be. It amused you as much as it squeezed your chest; one of the first strongest superhero being a fucking attention starved bastard was undeniably funny, but pitiful. It’s also why you fell in love with him.

You’ve accepted that Ben was always going to have a deep rooted homophobia in him, that there won’t be a day where you’ll be seen in the public with him holding hands like star-fucking-crossed lovers, that he’ll always be too much of a pussy to be fully himself — but you never expected him to be so open, comfortable, with you like this to the extent of willingly trusting you with a needy and desperate version of himself.

Benjamin is laying his heart out bare for you to take, and you didn’t know whether you wanted to make love to him or fuck his brains out. You decided with the former.

Confusion settles on Ben’s expression when you gently pushed his shoulders to make him pull away, a sudden worry if he’s done something wrong, but all thoughts flies out the window after you passionately smashed your lips against his and guided him on your lap. Ben gasps when you pulled the vibrator out of his hole and replaced it with your thick fingers, hooking his arms on the back of your neck.

“So good, love. Lookin’ all pretty for me.” He moans at your praise, the compliment making his heart flutter rather than boost his ego.

“s’for you…” They come out in whisper from his lips, littered with slight reluctance around the edge, but you hear it loud and clear. “All for you. I— fuck… just for you,” He grinds on your fingers, crying out when you curled them just right to stimulate his prostate.

You almost feel dizzy for his words that he’s never uttered before.

The utmost pride he upholds made it difficult for Ben to completely submit to you, often being a disobedient brat that needs to be put in his place or a quiet, reserved man that’s embarrassed to be loved by another man which causes him to be tense for the first half of this activity — so seeing him like this, hesitantly yet openly letting you in to his comfort zone, spilling the thoughts he’s always been fearful of admitting, holding you tight to him as if you’d slip from his grasp if he let you go, was pleasantly surprising. Your heart flutters, butterflies filling your stomach as the urge to protect and gently take him apart piece by piece runs like electricity through your veins, fuelling your desire for Ben.

You thrust your digits with gentle pace, Ben’s hips moving on its own to chase the pleasure. “That’s right, baby. All f’me, yeah? My pretty darling?”

The gentleness of your whispered voice and your eyes staring at him with pure love sends shivers down his spine; Ben holds your face and nods, pulling you in for a kiss. You can feel his suppressed fear through his desperate lips, the doubts that lingers in his mind that you might see him differently for being so vulnerable like this, and you quickly silence his thoughts by slipping your tongue inside his mouth.

Ben mewled when you add another digit in him, now having three fingers penetrating his hole, as he breaks the kiss to breathe for air. There’s a hazy look in his tearful eyes when he meets your gaze, “Take care of me, please.”

You groan at the plea, immediately pulling your fingers out to instead align your cock with his entrance. Ben must’ve been waiting for so long because he doesn’t hesitate to sink down on it almost in an instant, a loud collective moan escaping the two of you. Your hands gripped his hips while he rested both hands on your shoulders, and fuck he felt so fucking good. The way his warm, tight velvety walls deliciously clamp around you as if swallowing your cock whole, the way his divinely beautiful body perfectly fit against yours like he was made for you.

“fuck… you’re so fuckin’ perfect,” You praised, kissing up his throat as he threw his head back in pleasure. “Completely mine, so is Soldier Boy. Everythin’ about you, Ben. It’s all mine.”

Ben nods vigorously, gripping the back of your neck and starting to ride you at a perfect pace, tiny sounds escaping his mouth. Slipping his fingers through your hair, he gently tugged on them just enough that had you groaning, and laid his forehead to rest against yours. “Y-yours- ah… Yours as… as much as you’re fucking mine,” He grunts out, possessiveness hanging onto his every word that shot excitement through your body. “No one gets to f-fucking have you… oh fuck—!” He cuts himself off with a strangled moan when you snapped your hips up.

“Yeah? Not even that slut that danced with me on the dance floor?” You teased, smirking.

His bright green eyes seem to darken as he sinks even further down on your cock, forcefully stretching himself out, hissing at the delicious pain. You moaned, wrapping an arm around him to pull him to your chest. “Fuck, especially her.” Ben almost growls, one hand coming up to wrap around your throat, feeling you throb and seemingly get bigger inside him due to it. “You… belong to me, o-only me.”

You hum, moaning softly when he squeezed your jugular just right. “Always, my love.”

Relief washes over his entire body as he begins to roll his hips and move again, leaning down to suck and kiss on your exposed collarbone. “Oh fuck… It’s— a-agh…! Tell me- tell me, please…” He whined desperately.

Ben needed to hear you say it, have the promises of you completely belonging to him nailed into his brain so he’ll never feel insecure or doubtful again. He’ll never admit it, but you always know every little thing that goes on inside his head, those haunting words of his father that seems to have a tight grip over him. You’re the only one that could see right through his soul; someone exactly opposite from his father, someone who fearlessly challenges the normality or ancient traditions, someone who actually have their shit together that enabled you to be mature, wise, unapologetically yourself.

You were extraordinary in every way possible, and Ben knew his inner vulnerable — not quite the man his father wanted him to be — self was safe with you. Always secured. Never judged nor ridiculed, instead embraced perfectly by your strong and warm arms that shields him away from the mental, emotional harm.

He knew you would catch him when he falls. You would keep him and his treasured thoughts safe. You weren’t afraid to love him loudly, wholeheartedly, and Ben allows himself to be brave just this once without thinking about his fears.

Trailing one of your hands up his nape, you pull him back to a searing kiss, pouring all the desire and love into it. Ben melted, his hand on your throat loosening as you gently twist your bodies around to lay him down on the bed without pulling out. He whimpers and chases you when you detached your lips from his, which nearly made your heart explode.

“I belong to you, my love.” You whispered, kissing down his neck and chest, thrusting your cock sensually slow inside him. Nothing quite like the animalistic sex you two usually have due to your powers, but it was more right than ever. “My heart, my body, my soul, my spirit. All for you, belong with you.”

Ben feels as if his heart would hammer right out of his ribcage from how rapid it was beating.

Your soothing yet powerful presence all over the place, hovering over him and embracing every bit of the damaged part of himself that he refused to acknowledge. There’s resistance gnawing on his skin, the unhealthy urge to push you away and guard himself again with a thick wall despite being the one who willingly showed vulnerability, but Ben uses all of his ability to shove it down. He wanted to listen to your overwhelmingly romantic and gentle words that he’s been taught men should never utter, he wanted to be held with so much care like he was your most prized possession, he wanted to be actually loved. For once, he wanted to allow himself to not be drowned in the toxicity his father had force-fed him with.

It doesn’t take you a second to notice him relaxing even further underneath your body, practically leaning onto your existence as the pretty noises escaping his mouth seems to gradually get louder, like he stopped holding himself back.

An awe surrounds your expression, genuinely taken aback by him letting everything go, and a soft sigh of pleasure falls from your lips. “That’s it, baby. You make the most prettiest sound. Don’t hold back,” Cooing gently, you adjust your hips and rolled into him, brushing his prostate at a perfect angle.

Ben keened, arching his back. “Fuuuck… oh, please. Deeper.”

You obliged, keeping the same slow and sensual pace but pushing further inside. “You’re made for me, aren’t you? Just as I’m made for you,” You sharply snap your hips once to emphasise, and he cries out. “We’re one, my love. No one can have me, I come home to you and only to you no matter what.”

His breath hitched, the pleasure and your words sending explosions of euphoria into his brain, nodding mindlessly at your promises. “Y-yes, fuck… I’m- I’m yours, too— ah, hng…” Tears spill from his beautiful green eyes as he spread his legs more wide, one hand grabbing your wrist that was propped beside his head to stabilise your body, almost clinging onto you while the other scratched against the mattress. “F-fucking Christ, always- always yours.”

“I know,” You softly acknowledged. “Always mine, no matter how much some part of you can’t accept it. I can see right through you, love. I understand everything about you.”

“I- oh yes! There, fuck!” Ben sobs when you start picking up your pace, hips bucking against you. “Y-you do… God, you a-always fucking do.”

That causes a grin to spread across your lips before you leaned down to devour him again.

Truth be told, Ben was afraid of how much you saw everything he’s been trying to hide all his life. It takes a bit of his soul every-time he learns to be indifferent, more sick and twisted. The innocence in him had died out long ago, but the desperation of a child never vanquished — the pathetic, ruined and heavily deprived of any love someone that he always forced himself to forget or get rid of, was seen entirely by you without much effort. He didn’t need to say anything, you always understood all the hidden insecurity, longing, pain, and fear nested deep in his mind. You also understood why he was the way he was, why he does what he does, who he had to become.

To be loved is to be seen and understood, he guesses.

A love he’s never thought he’ll ever experience from anyone, let alone his supposed enemy. You gave it to him, though. All so willingly, happily, like he was meant for it, like he was always meant for you.

Strangled, loud moan was forced out of him when your hand wrapped around his achingly hard dick, making him feel dizzy from all the overwhelming desire and pleasure. Every bit of love that emits from your touch sends a frying electricity through his veins, fulfilling his inner thirst that was supposed to be unquenchable.

“Fuck, fuckfuckfuck—!” Ben wails, arching his back and digging his nails on your forearm as your thumb rubbed his sensitive slit and smeared precum all over. “C-close… oh, Christ! Cummin’, cummin’, please—”

“It’s alright, Ben. I got you,” You purred, slamming your hips down on him. “Let go, cum for me.”

As if that’s all the permission he needed, Ben instantly tumbles over the edge with a loud breathy whine as his eyes rolled to the back of his head, sticky loads shooting out from his cock to his stomach. Body spasming and head thrown back, letting his mind-blowing orgasm wave right off of him, still clinging onto you. You gritted your teeth when his hole tightened impossibly around you, feeling yourself throb and ache to release.

Ben — in spite of his cloudy, mushed state of mind as well as hazy and cock-drunk look in his eyes — suddenly wraps both strong legs around your hips to keep you in place, which forces you forward to bury yourself deeper inside him, eliciting a growl of curses from you.

His mouth splits into a dumb, shit-eating grin. “Inside, baby. Fill me up… give me all you got. I need you.” He moves his hips and squeezes down like a fucking expert prostitute, and it’s enough to have you let out a guttural groan as you spilled inside his tight hole.

Ben released a shattered breath, moaning delightfully at your warm cum that taints his insides, his hand that was gripping your forearm moving down to caress his belly where he could feel you finishing.

It makes your breath hitch; the action sparking a deep hidden desire and possessiveness within you that you’ve had shackled for so long in order to not be too greedy.

But Ben, oh your precious Benjamin, pressed down on his perfect belly and whined so brokenly that tugged the strings of your heart, as if he wanted something so unreachable. He attempts to bury his face on the pillow in what you recognised as shame and you quickly hold his face to keep him from hiding from you, subtle concern glimmering in your gentle eyes.

“What’s bothering your mind, love?” You whispered with such carefulness, afraid speaking too loud would break the bubble of sensitivity that surrounded the two of you as you pressed a light kiss on his temple. “You can tell me, Benji. It’s not embarrassing nor shameful.”

Ben’s heart swells at the way you cage him in your protective arms and words, the back of his eyes stinging from the tears that threatened to come out. He doesn’t deserve you; he never did, but you’re so good to him and he doesn’t think he can live without you. No, he knows he can’t live without you.

What would he do without your captivating eyes looking at him with so much passion no one ever gave him before, your gentle voice uttering such carefully crafted words that embraces rather than cut through him, your big and muscular yet warmly protective arms holding him like he was a treasure to behold, your soul healing and rebuilding every damaged bit of his spirit like it was your purpose? What would he do without you?

And fuck, everything would be so much easier if he wasn’t a fucking man. If he wasn’t such a pussy who’s afraid of risking everything.

You gently roll your hips against his, slow and steady, as if to comfort his nerves and overthinking thoughts with a soft pleasure.

Letting out a quiet, breathy sigh, Ben holds your face close and internally fights back against the restraints that wanted to keep him from opening his soul up to you. “We’d be… We’d be so much happier if I wasn’t a fucking man,” His whispered voice breaks at the end.

His heart ached and so did yours, a realisation dwelling on you of how serious Ben actually was with your relationship. It comes off as an unexpected admittance. While you knew he did love you like you love him, you didn’t think it was to this extent of imagining the countless possibilities if either of you was a woman instead, much less he’d think of himself to be the woman. It was odd and so unlike him — true love brings out something within people, you suppose.

Tears glimmered in his green eyes that’s filled by storm of emotions.

Ben hated this, hated you for making him such a crybaby and a pussy, but he’s so in love with you it fucking hurts. He doesn’t know what triggered him to be an annoying, pathetic, insecure loser the moment you held him. God, he’s Soldier Boy for fuck’s sake!

Then, you look at him with so much tenderness like he hung the moon and was the only thing that grounds you down to earth, and Ben realises it’s this.

“You’re such a fucking fool,” You affectionately cursed with a tone barely above whisper before pressing a lingering kiss on his lips. “I wouldn’t have spared you a glance if you weren’t. Women never captivated me, love. Only you.”

Wrapping his arms around your back and burying his face on the crook of your neck, Ben inhales your scent as you gently rock your bodies together. “Love me more,” He almost demands, voice low and trembling.

You smiled, “Of course, Benji.”

Pressing a sweet kiss on his head, you grab the back of his thighs and push them to his muscular chest, Ben’s flexibility despite his well defined physique making it easier for you to fold him. In a swift motion, you slam down on him, beginning to pound away the loud thoughts that made home in his mind. Angelic, high pitched sounds escape Ben’s mouth with each rough thrusts, bordering on pornographic. The blissful look across his face enhance his already ethereal features, and you can’t help but stare intently at him.

“You look so beautiful like this, love. Taking me in so well, letting me cherish you.” You praised, earning a needy whimper from the love of your life. “My Benjamin… my brave soldier.”

At the unexpected pet name, Ben’s body jolts and a choked sob erupted from his throat, suddenly pushed over the edge as he cums undone on his stomach. “F-fuck!”

“G-god, baby…” You groaned, shuddering in pleasure at the way his gummy walls spasms around your girth. “Drivin’ me insane, y’know that? Cummin’ with just my words alone? Shit, wanna fuck you hard and love you at the same time.”

Digging his nails on your back, Ben attached his lips on your collarbone with an intent to leave several possessive marks, making you jut your hips forward. “D-do it, fuck me.” He mumbled breathlessly.

That’s the only permission you needed to let go of your own self-control and just rut into him like an animal, thrusting your cock with more vigour and roughness that forced the headboard to repeatedly bang against the wall. Feeling the way your shaft practically drill into and rearrange his guts that brought immeasurable ecstasy, Ben finds himself finally unable to make out a coherent thought as drools drip down his chin. The two orgasms you milked out of him already left him sensitive enough, his thighs quivering under your grasps.

Lewd sounds of skin slapping against skin and wet squelches filled the room, accompanied by feral noises of both of your moans and grunts.

It’s nearly incomprehensible how you’re able to quickly switch between loving him and treating him like a slut next, a perfect balance to Ben’s constant yearning for admiration or appreciation and his tendency to always be an inconsolable brat that needs to be put back in his place.

He feels so complete and whole, so loved. And so so fucking dumb for your cock. He could stay like this forever without heavy expectations weighing over his head all the time, just taking you whole and letting you ruin his body, looking all pretty and beautiful for you. Yeah, he can do that. Being pretty and sexy has always been a talent of his, after all. He can even learn to cook for you like a fucking perfect, pretty housewife, maybe you’ll stuff him full of your cum again while at it and tell him to keep them in. Fuck, he can do that too. He wants to do that.

“Oh fuck, Ben…” An almost pornographic, low growl rumbles from your chest when he squeezed down on you, his warm walls fluttering against your girth from the imagination. The coil in your stomach tightens as you twitched inside him, too close to your high.

“I- ah—! Please, pleaseplease—!” He babbles, one hand shifting to press your ass and push you in deeper, syllables slightly slurred from how cockdrunk he was.

Understanding his wordless signal, you increase your pace with an angle that drives your instincts wild, a chill running through your spine from the overwhelming pleasure. Seeing Ben completely fall apart and surrender underneath you gives your ego an infinite boost, the powerful man such a sobbing, wrecked, pretty little mess just because of your cock. Drunk in every little euphoria and precious love you feed him. Oh, how fucking adorable and gorgeous he was.

Before long, Ben feels you throb inside him and pulls you in with what little willpower he had left, clumsily slipping his tongue in your mouth, overwhelming you with different sensations of his body against yours. It’s enough to have you harshly ram your hips down in one swift motion and empty yourself inside him, a loud wail of your name leaving Ben’s lips as he finishes as well. You feel his body tremble violently due to overstimulation, breath stuttering.

“You look so fucked out,” You laugh breathlessly, hips softly grinding to ride out your climax. “Still fuckin’ hot when you’re all dumb n’ mindless.”

Petting his disheveled hair, a soft contented hum leaves Ben as he closed his eyes and nuzzled to your touch. The entire erotic sight of his hair sticking to his forehead from the sweat, tears staining his cheeks, hazy look across his eyes, and swollen lips sends amusement and satisfaction through your veins — you definitely fucked whatever self-loathing thoughts he’s had out of his head.

Having completely spilled inside him, you moved to pull out only for Ben to groan in protest. “Stay the fuck in,” He grumbled, panting to catch his breath.

“I need to clean us up, love.” You gently say, but kept yourself sheathed inside him as your lips attach to his neck. “Wanna take care of you properly.”

Ben quietly sighs in content, “You already do.” Before he tilts his head to capture you in a passionate kiss. You slowly pull out of him in amidst of the moment, holding his face and reciprocating with equal passion.

He breathes low and heavy when you start to wipe him up with a wet towel you magically conjured up, running it across his body gently as your other hand massaged his sore hip with such tenderness. Your eyes taking in every part of his physique feels much more innocent now compared to before, deep appreciation and subtle awe flashing across your irises the more you stare, which causes his cheeks to tint slightly. You find it adorable how shy or embarrassed he gets whenever you look at him like he’s something born out of the stars in contrast to the overinflated cockiness he displays when others compliment him; it just proves he feels different, more special with you.

You shoot him a gentle smile that makes his brain shut down and his heart jump.

Christ on a cross, just what did you fucking reduce him into?

“Will you marry me?” The words had left his mouth before he could even process.

You froze, eyes wide as you snapped your gaze to him at the same time his own widened in shock. Fuck, did he just say what he thinks he did? After you fucked him ‘til he couldn’t even speak properly? God, his legs feel wobbly after all that delicious pounding of your dick in his tight little—

His distracting thoughts were interrupted by your hands cupping his cheeks and forcing him to look at you. There’s a bit of doubt lingered across your expression, worried that you mistakenly heard him, and Ben’s gaze softened. “Will you marry me?” He repeats quietly this time with genuine emotion, wiping away your worry.

Excitement and happiness seem to explode within you as you beam; “Yes! Fuck, yes, I’ll marry you.” However, your smile slowly deflates and a foreign look of insecurity replaces the joy surrounding you. “Are you… are you sure? You’re not pushing yourself?”

Confusion spreads across his face, “Why would you think I am?”

“It’s just not that easy to break away from all the homophobia, love.” You softly remind him. “You’re still having a hard time accepting it, could barely even call yourself the right term. You’re afraid, and that’s fine. We can continue on like this. You don’t have to marry me because you feel obligated to.”

Ben frowns, his hand pulling you down to the mattress at his side as he props up on his elbow and stares at you incredulously. “You think I wanna fucking marry you just ‘cause I’m guilty about hiding this? Did it ever occur to you that I actually fuckin’ love you?”

You smile to yourself; what a long way it took for him to just be able to admit that. At least he’s letting himself know he can be vulnerable with you now, compared to when he was convinced you’ll despise his inner self — a big fucking pussy, he says — and completely shut himself off in the beginning.

“Hey,” He grabs your chin to make you pay attention. “I know I still don’t do enough to show you, but I do. I really fucking do, baby.”

You look into his captivating green eyes for a second before releasing a deep breath, “I know. Trust me, you don’t have to do enough to show it, I can already tell. And I love you too.”

Ben nods and kisses your lips, lying down beside you. Your hand instinctually attaches to his waist, caressing his soft skin and shooting warmth throughout his body.

He can’t help but stare at your features, the way you look different now from how you looked at the party you crashed earlier. A certain amount of coldness, hostility and displeasure usually lurked your expression in a daily manner — hidden behind the undeniable charisma and obnoxious arrogance — directed at others that told exactly what their worth to you was; nothing. Ben hasn’t seen a day you were even remotely pleased by someone in the long years of knowing you, the people who attempted to get in your good graces often ended up screwing everything up instead and irritating you enough to kill them off.

But with him, you wouldn’t even spare him a cold glance. Your gaze twinkling with a pleasant spark, always warm, always comforting, always proud. God forbid you look at him with hatred like you’re supposed to. So affectionate for a man who’s been named after the Devil by the idiotic public that only sees what you let them see.

It is then had Ben realised; to him, true love is you.

True love is when you embrace a part of him that he deems undesirable, mend his broken soul, and melt the ice of deep rooted trauma surrounding his heart — it is when Soldier Boy doesn’t drive you away from seeing Benjamin, an ordinary boy from South Philadelphia who desperately wanted to make his father proud. You see them as one, as equally significant parts of him.

Good fucking Lord, he was a gigantic imbecile if he didn’t want to marry you, even if the idea still makes him feel quite… odd. Fuck’s sake, he really needs to learn how to deal with this homophobia bullshit, doesn’t he?

Ben licks his lips anxiously, reluctance plastered on his face. “I… I actually got the rings,” He hesitantly admitted.

Your eyes widened. “You did?”

“I- Jesus Christ, of course I did! I know I don’t fucking do shit like that, okay?” He snapped before quietly muttering, “Just wanted you to believe me when I propose.”

“I do,” You don’t miss to give him comfort, grabbing his hand. Ben’s nerves soothes at your touch. “I just thought we still have a long way to go and you need more time to figure yourself out.”

He shakes his head, “Gotta claim you before some fucker decides you’re free for them.”

“Yeah?” You smirked, raising one eyebrow. “Could’ve gone with a collar, y’know. It would get your point straight across. Plus, it’s more visible.” Tapping your neck to emphasise, which made Ben swallow.

Yeah, you’ll look good with a collar in his colour. You can even wear both. That’ll definitely get his point across to anyone that even looks at you. Maybe next time, he decides.

A mischievous smirk spreads across his lips, “That’ll fucking work best. Think I could put a leash on you too?” He teased, letting out a chuckle and sliding his hand up to your neck and hold you there.

“Mhm, fuck yes,” You almost purred from how pleased you were at the idea.

Ben laughs, lightly squeezing your neck in affection before turning around to rummage through the cabinet on the side of your bed, pulling out a velvet box that’s in the shade of his green. You could tell he was enthusiastic and overwhelmed with emotions from the way his hands slightly trembled, though you made no mention of it to avoid bursting his adorable bubble.

His grin was as bright as the sun on a sunny day when the ring perfectly fits around your finger, already snuggling comfortably on your skin and bringing a weight of new purpose in life. You slip the other ring on his as well, feeling the entanglement of your destiny with one another, the red strings of fate on both of your pinky fingers thickening. It’s a sacred oath that ties you to each other forever.

Warmth spreads around your chest at the fact it’s his first time giving you a gift and it’s something so unexpectedly intimate. A silver engagement ring with a ruby in his shade of green and his name engraved on the inner side; practically a part of his soul, settling itself home around your finger. You shift your gaze to the one he wears — the same silver ring but with a dark red ruby instead, your signature colour, and you assume also have your name engraved on the inner side as well.

A big, significant step for a man who’s constantly afraid of what others think about him, and you couldn’t be more prouder.

Lying back down on the bed together, Ben turns his back on you and scoots closer to your chest, making you smile when he grabbed your wrist to pull your arm over his torso. He always loved being hugged by you from behind despite the fact he’ll never admit it out loud; as much as it sounds pathetic and unmanly, he doesn’t argue with himself of how it gives him safety and protection from the harsh judgmental world. Being in your arms always dissipated the cruel words of his father carved in his mind.

You gently pulled him closer to your body and pressed a kiss on his shoulder blade. “Don’t have to rush about coming out, love. It’ll take more than a simple courage to be open about something considered taboo by our society. You’re still dealing with personal issues, we’ll focus on that for now.”

Ben’s heart warms at your consideration, unable to resist the urge to stick to you like a glue as he leans back on your chest. “How the fuck did you do it? This feels like a pain in the fucking ass,” He muttered disdainfully, though there was a hint of willingness in his tone, like he’s willing to make an effort just for you.

You shrugged, “m’not exactly shaped by my childhood trauma, Benji, and I didn’t like my parents that much. Never really gave a fuck about somethin’ that has no benefit to my life whatsoever.”

“Entitled asshole,” He laughs.

“So are you,” You teased, making you both erupt in loud laughter.

I could get used to this, Ben thinks as genuine happiness glows bright in his heart, your love anchoring him and providing a solid land for him to stand on. Dealing with his own problems doesn’t sound so bad when you’re there for him every step of the way. With your protective arms around his body, both Soldier Boy and Benjamin knew their heart will always be safe with you.

For once, Ben believes he can finally learn to create a family of his own.

Until disaster struck and life suddenly decides to not be fair on someone as fucked up as him — ripping his world apart into shreds in the form of coward, betraying bastards known as his fucking teammates.

© all rights reserved to hadesrise ──── stealing, plagiarising, or using my works for monetary gain is strictly prohibited. ask permission before reposting or translating.

[tocka-irbis]

Just Friends? Yeah, Right.

⚠18+ [Sexual] Themes, [Soldier Boy x Male Supe!Reader]

﹂Contains: friends with benefits/situationship, mentions of substance abuse, alcohol and drugs, internalized homophobia(?), implied past flings, riding, couch sex(?)

It had been long since Ben returned from his captivity in Russia. Filled with resentment towards his old teammates that stabbed him in the back.

There were very few individuals he could say that he's able to trust blindly. Luckily, you weren't involved in the whole debacle. Instead you helped break him out and find somewhere to lay low.

The use of substances to get the edge off has become mainly routine for him. Occasionally rolling a joint to unwind and relax after another long day, sometimes a few drinks and so on.

From time to time you'd join him, mostly to keep an eye on him from doing anything unruly or getting into unnecessary trouble.

"Pass me the lighter would you." Between his lips is the rolled up contraband, his hand outstretched to receive the zippo from you.

"I ain't got all day, hurry it up." His nerves are coiled like a viper ready to strike, his patience almost non-existent. That British fellow had really wore it down to a thin sliver with the constant questions and insistence on getting him on board with his agenda. Ben has his own plans to get through than fulfilling Butcher's.

The cool casing of the metal meets his palm, he doesn't miss a beat to flick it open and light the end of the joint.

It ignites into a low ember and he takes a long drag letting the intoxicating fumes simmer in his lungs before blowing it out into the air.

"Now that," his tongue darts out to wet his lips before he takes another hit. "Really hits the spot."

Another cloud of smog flits out and vanishes without a trace. You've gotten used to Ben's brusque mannerisms by this point, you didn't really have much of a choice in the matter.

He pats the spot next to him on the couch with a slight grunt, telling you to take a seat rather than pace around like an anxious teenager about to get caught doing something they shouldn't.

"Live a little why don't you," he half-jibes holding out the joint for you to take a hit. He wouldn't admit out loud but he enjoys sharing moments like these with you.

Rather than admitting how he likes seeing you all relaxed and loosened up —he makes up an excuse of not having to put up with your restlessness.

Always making some bullshit justification for his actions or words— never really getting to the point when it matters most.

It may be due to the influence of whatever substance he's on or just the effect you have on him. He'd never tell that's for certain.

Without fail his mind gets all the more hazy and unreasonable— perhaps that's what caused him to do or say certain things in times like these.

"A few bounces on it won't affect our friendship, right?"

That's what Ben claimed the last time this happened.

He's high out his mind but he can still tell how well you stretch him open. His senses narrow down to the feeling of your cock— the way it hits the deepest parts of him that makes him see stars. How the sensation makes his back arch in order to press down more into your lap.

"Motherfucker," he moans out lowly, head lolling back onto your shoulder.

This position makes him feel oddly...vulnerable. His legs spread apart, hooked over your knees as he sits on you. He can't find it in himself to complain. It feels too good for him to care right now.

He had grumbled earlier about not wanting to face you since it would be gay or whatever, saying he isn't one of those people. "Straight as and arrow," he insists.

Yet the way he moves on top of you clearly says something else entirely. His hips undulating and rolling at a steady rhythm as if he's done this thousands of times before, at this point he kind of has.

How many times has it been that he's had you fuck all those bothersome thoughts out of his head until he was a drooling mess? Especially the places it's happened— some more risky than others.

Just like all the other smoke sessions he plans on keeping you within arms reach until the numbness in his thighs gives out. Surely you'll have no issues in keeping up, right?

Tocka-irbis © 2025 —Please -do not steal, translate, modify, repost on other platforms.

[hrtsoldierboy]

Ben knows that it’s okay to like guys now. He knows how you can feel free to be whoever the person wants to be, he knows that… but he can’t seem to shake off the overwhelming feeling that he shouldn’t be with Butcher. That it wasn’t right to think about kissing the other man. That it wasn’t okay to be himself. He couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of shame whenever he thought about being happy with him.

He knew his father was long dead by now, but his words still made an impact to him. About ‘how unnatural queers were’ and other foul language that Ben was taught to be proper, including other factors in his time that influenced him to the greatest. He hated it so much.

And he loved Butcher. The way he didn’t make any sense with how thick his accent was. The way his closet was mostly just Hawaiian shirts and sweaters and two pairs of that fuckass trench coat he always wears. The way his eyes were different at the center near his pupil. The way he smirked whenever he was right about something.

He sometimes wishes he could be just more emotional.