I have a vague memory of waking up in the middle of the night a while ago with some brilliant idea and quickly drafting it on Tumblr. Today I checked out what it was and-
Has N ever accidentally injured another drone while wagging his tail?
He's SUPER careful around others and keeps his tail close, but is no stranger to smacking himself upside the head at least on a weekly basis b/c that thing has a mind of its own sometimes
Summary: There’s only so much teasing Ben is willing to take. He has no choice but to punish you.
AN: Here we go! lol. This is the highly requested Part 2 to This One’s For You, over in the BMD-verse!
Word Count: 2.2K
Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, edging, teasing, fluff, and feels.
💚 Break Me Down Masterlist
You gasped, your nails raking through his hair. Your grip threatened to rip out a few strands as you panted into his neck.
“Ben, please…for God’s sake…”
“Please what?” he said. There was grit in his voice when he spoke into your ear, but he was all too controlled. Taunting.
Asshole.
He was relentless, dragging his fingers inside your quivering pussy, rubbing his thumb around your clit, but almost never where you wanted him. Your thighs were shaking on either side of his frame as he had you naked on your back, writhing in the middle of your shared bed. You’d sucked him off until his spine rattled and his eyes nearly crossed, swallowing up as much as you could of what he had to give.
Still, he wasn’t satisfied.
“I’m sorry!” you burst in frustration, but you also had to stifle your laughter. Your husband narrowed his eyes at you, spying the hint of your smile.
“How come I don’t fucking believe you?” said Ben. With his elbow digging into the bed beside your shoulder, his occupied fingers curled inside you, finally brushing against the sensitive ridge of your inner walls. It drew a faltering moan from your lips.
“What exactly are you sorry for?” he demanded. He bowed his head and laid a biting kiss along your throat. “Use your fucking words.”
You exhaled roughly, gripping his hair tight again. Now that he couldn’t see your face, you could allow yourself to grin in amusement.
Three Days Ago…
Ben was tired and more irritable than usual when he stepped into the Flatiron Building. The night before had been a battle of wills between him and his infant daughter, who’d been finnicky, having a hard time going back to sleep. He’d done his best to help her, since you had been dead to the world and unable to leave the bed (or so you’d seemed).
Now, he took the elevator up to the right floor and used his key to get into the office suite, where Butcher and the rest of your delinquent friends were already dicking around.
Some horrible French rap was playing on the Bluetooth speaker. Kimiko was flicking tiny pieces of paper across the dining table, into a “goal” made by Hughie’s hands. Frenchie wore a “Kiss the Cook” apron as he pulled a fresh batch of croissants out of the oven in the kitchenette, while M.M. swept the excess flour stains off the counter.
Annie was trying to get Butcher to smoke his cigarette out on the balcony.
“Really, you had fucking cancer. You’d think you’d try a little harder to take care of yourself,” she said. Butcher gave her a wan smile, and blew a coil of smoke upward between them.
“Nice,” she said flatly.
But all that stopped when Ben strode into the room. They stared at him, each starting to smile, no matter how much some of them tried to hide it (like Kimiko, with a hand over her mouth).
“What the fuck’re you staring at?” Ben snapped. “We got a job, right?”
Butcher cleared his throat and recovered first. He dabbed his cigarette on an ashtray on the dining table and grabbed an iPad to give to the supe.
“Yeah, got us an escapee. Our little slumlord, Sapphire,” he said.
Ben frowned. Sapphire was the supe who nearly vaporized you a couple of years ago, after they broke up her drug ring. While he read the file documenting detailing her escape and what the CIA knew of her whereabouts so far, Hughie shared a look with Kimiko and Annie before he spoke.
“So, uh, how’s Lila doing?”
Ben shot him a look through furrowed brows.
“Fine. She’s with her mother,” he replied. Hughie predictably asked about you, and again, Ben said you were fine at home with the baby.
“Lila’s almost a year old, right?” Hughie asked. “Aw man, that’s gotta be a fun age, right? I mean, fun, but challenging. All the crying, the diaper changing. Getting her to sleep through the night must be tough.”
Ben’s attention piqued at that, and not in a good way. His dark suspicion grew when his gaze flicked up to Hughie’s dumb fucking face, and then the rest of them, with their dumbass smiles. Biting her lip to stop herself from smiling, Annie pressed a button on her phone.
All of a sudden, Ben heard his own voice playing from the speaker.
“H-Hey there, Delilah, what’s it like in New York City?”
“Now ain’t that a lovely warble,” Butcher remarked. Ben shot him a warning glare, but the Brit raised his hands in amused surrender. He crossed his arms and continued to smoke as he watched the scene unfold.
Ben tossed the iPad onto the kitchen counter and strode over to Annie with menacing steps, intending to put an end to this bullshit. She grinned and tossed her phone over to Kimiko, and Ben glowered, changing directions.
“I'm a thousand miles away, but girl, tonight you look so pretty. Yes, you do. Time Square can’t shine as bright as you…I swear it’s true.”
Kimiko’s eyes widened at the angry supe heading toward her. She tossed the phone to Frenchie next. The phone bounced between his flour-stained hands as he yelped in surprise.
“Oh, shit,” he uttered, when Ben began stomping his way.
“Hey there, Delilah, don't you worry about the distance. I'm right there if you get lonely. Give this song another listen…”
“A voice like warm butter,” Frenchie praised. He quickly tried to move from side to side to evade his attacker. “You should be proud, Monsiuer Grincheux! A man soothing his baby is a beautiful thing.”
“Shut your fucking cockhole,” Ben gritted out, but he still reached out when the phone sailed under his arm—only to land in M.M.’s hands. He froze with widened eyes, not wanting to be in the game. But it was too late, for him and Ben.
“Hey there, Delilah, here’s to you,” his voice sang, more quietly, more tender, deep and baritone. “This one’s for you…”
A brief pause. And then—
“What the fuck’re you doing?”
M.M. managed to pause the video. A beat of utter silence, and then...
Everyone burst out into laughter. Hughie started it; he was damn near folded in half, leaning heavily on his girlfriend as he wiped a tear out of his eye. M.M. tossed the phone back to Frenchie, whose entire frame was shaking with restrained glee.
Ben’s jaw worked as he contemplated how exactly he was going to kill every one of these cocksucking morons.
And then you. Because how else had they gotten that video? You had to have sent it somehow before he got ahold of you last night.
“All right, enough!” he bellowed.
The entire room fell silent.
“First of all, erase that shit right now, or it’s coming out your ass,” he barked, pointing at Frenchie. The other man jolted and did as he was told.
“As for the rest of you, I better not hear another fucking word about this, or so help me Christ, I’m gonna do some barbecuing.”
About three days later, Sapphire had been caught and re-imprisoned, and Ben returned home. He found you in the living room. He was taciturn to your happy smile when you welcomed him with a hug around his waist, though your smile fell after he didn’t respond to your kiss.
He slowly lowered his gaze down to you, and you knew.
Biting your lip, you soothed a hand along his cheek. “So, how’d it go?”
“Fine,” he said, but little else.
In fact, Ben didn’t speak to you for most of the evening. You tried cooking him a good hot meal, but he barely said two words to you. The only thing he did, before he was even showered and changed, was venture into the nursery to lay a gentle hand on his daughter’s head as she slept, over her downy brown hair. He bent down to press a kiss to her forehead.
After that, he strode past you in the doorway and slammed the door shut in the bathroom.
Aw shit. Despite yourself, you couldn’t help chortling with laughter. You should’ve known he’d be a great big man child about this.
So you decided to call your mom and see if she could take Lila for the night.
You had some damage control to do.
Now…
He'd brought you to the edge of your pleasure three times before he withdrew his mouth or his hand from your body, not letting you touch yourself, not letting you come—driving you to the point of frustrated tears.
You grabbed his head with both hands and guided him to look you in the eyes.
“Baby, please. Stop torturing me,” you pleaded. You used every tool in your arsenal to make him break, giving him soft, tearful eyes. You leaned up and pressed gentle kisses to his cheek, his chin, the corner of his mouth, and finally his lips.
“I need you,” you whispered, drawing him into deeper, messier kisses. Part of him started to falter. He briefly closed his eyes and breathed into your kiss.
But then, he stubbornly broke from you with a frown.
“Nice try. You’re not getting off that easy,” he said. “Now say it. Why the fuck are you sorry?”
You huffed in aggravation, but you twined your arms around his neck and brushed slightly sweaty strands of his hair away from his forehead.
“I’m sorry for embarrassing you,” you said, even though your mouth began to curve upward. “It was a sweet thing you did, and I’m glad I captured it. But I am sorry that sharing that moment with our friends bothers you so much.”
“First of all, they’re your idiot friends,” he said. You wanted to interject on that one, but you knew he wasn’t in the mood, and you didn’t want to fight with him for real.
“Second of all,” he began…but he didn’t have any more words after that. They were caught between his irritation, and his unwillingness to even voice what it was he felt. Eventually, he found them.
“There’s some shit that needs to stay between us,” he said.
You smiled, but you mercifully drew him down for another slow kiss.
“Okay, okay. I hear you. It’s not that big a deal though. You love your family, and look! Your macho-ness is still very much intact,” you said, gesturing at his very much hard cock pressing against your thigh. “Now are you gonna fuck me like a man, or do I need to find a vibrator that will?”
At that Ben looked down at you with a raise of his brows. His lips twitched, mostly at your audacity. Shaking his head, he slid a hand behind your neck and drew you in for a kiss, fueled by passion and frustration in equal measure.
You wrapped your thighs around his hips, urging him closer. His straining length pressed against your center, the wet tip slipping against your glistening folds. He groaned at the sensation.
“Please,” you repeated, licking into his mouth for a sensuous kiss.
The once-iron grip on his restraint finally broke. Ben slid a hand between you to hold himself to your entrance. With one smooth thrust, his cock buried deep inside you. Your moan of relief echoed his own. If nothing else good came out of this situation, you two hadn’t had the time or the energy to go at it like this in a long time.
He grabbed your thigh and angled you higher, so he could sink in at an even better angle as he began to rut into you.
With all of his earlier edging and teasing, you were already so close. Your inner walls fluttered around him, welcoming him home and gripping him tight. All it took was a few well-placed swipes of his thumb over your clit to have you tumbling over the edge—a delicious cresting of pleasure that made you arch off the bed, biting your nails into his shoulders, a cry caught in your throat.
Ben fucked you through your release, all while chasing his own. His grip on your hip tightened as his thrusts grew ragged, his own breathing shallow and rough, until his balls tightened and his body locked up on him. He spent himself inside you, coating your inner walls until he had nothing left.
He just barely managed to keep himself from smothering you as his body relaxed. You still welcomed his weight on you, soothing your hands up and down his back while you both caught your breath. Your thighs slipped from his hips, your feet meeting bed and sliding out a little.
Ben brushed your sweaty hair away from your face. Looking down on you now, his face gentled from its hardened angles and furrowed brows. You smiled lazily.
“Still mad at me?” you teased.
Ben resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Instead, he let out a rough exhale through his nose.
“Something tells me you didn’t learn your fucking lesson,” he said, somewhat incredulous, and yet, amused.
Your smile was undoubtedly cheeky, even as you leaned up to give him a sweeter kiss.
“Sure did, baby,” you said against his lips. And another kiss. “Lesson learned, I promise.”
He really did roll his eyes this time.
AN: 😂 Ben just can't win, can he?
Translation: Monsiuer Grincheux - "Mr. Grumpy"
Keep Reading in the BMD-verse:
Coming up next, Ben has his Adventures in Babysitting moment in Green:
Summary: Ben spends the day alone with his daughter, to varying degrees of success. When you get home, it prompts a serious conversation.
